Don't Fret

I'm alive! I have not been writing, but it is not because some terrible fate has befallen me. I have just been half busy, half lazy, and half procrastinatory (and I suppose yet one more half... bad at fractions). Busy with work - on the real estate front, mostly, but also lots of nights at Memphis's great new comedy club, Comedy,TN - and travel to the wedding of a good friend. Lazy with, well... nothing. That's just how laziness works, I guess. And procrastinatory with things that I see and experience that I want to tell you about, but figure, "Well, I'll just gather a few more thoughts and then write them all together. You know... later."

What sorts of things have I seen? I'll tell you. I saw comedian Todd Barry perform in Memphis. You may have seen him on Comedy Central. Or somewhere else. He was quite funny, though he didn't do my favorite bit - probably becuse it's old - that I've seen of his in which he makes fun of a musical presentation on an awards show that featured Guns 'N' Roses playing with a symphony orchestra. The orchestra is using sheet music. Guns 'N' Roses is not. He does a great job of making that sound just as stupid as it is. Speaking of strange musical performances, sharing the stage with Todd was a local musical duo, one of whom played... the saw. He was playing a saw - with which you might cut a piece of wood - with a violin bow. It was hauntingly beautiful and incredibly strange. Even stranger was that no one else in the crowded establishment seemed to think anything of it. I was flabbergasted. The rest of the crowd was not gasted in any manner, whatsoever. What I still can't figure out is why the saw didn't cut through the strings on the bow. We'll save that for another time, though.

All else is well. I'll report on the wedding weekend just past later, and I'll close by sharing with you the fantastic news that I am now wearing two shoes. Normally not a big accomplishment, I know, but I was wearing the "I'm a brittle old man and I broke a bone in my foot doing nothing" boot for most of the last six weeks. It's good to be back in matching footwear!

Opening Day, Opening Night, and an Etymological Query

This week saw some exciting beginnings. Wednesday was opening day at the URJ Henry S. Jacobs Camp in Utica, MS. I spent many - very many - a summer there as a camper and staff member, and was there as a "staff brat" prior to my camper years and as a "visiting professional" since my staff tenure came to an end. If I don't make it there during this summer's sessions, it will be the first time since around 1976 or '77 that I haven't been there during the season. At present, I have no concrete plans to visit. We'll see.

Even though I am no longer there, though, I still feel "it" on opening day. It's similar to how I still have a weird little feeling in my gut on the first and last day of school, though I am no longer on a school schedule, myself. Anyone who ever passed through the gates of my camp - or probably any other - on opening day is likely to have vivid memories of that excited, nervous feeling of wondering who your counselors would be, who would be in your cabin, would you be in time to pick a good bed, etc. Camp is a special thing. I feel for those who never had the experience and I expect I'll always know deep down when it's opening day.

In other news, Comedy,Tennessee, Memphis' new comedy club opened it's permanent location this week. Wednesday night was a soft opening for comics, friends of the club, sponsors and the like. Thursday night was the grand opening. I was privileged to perform there that night, opening for headliner, J. Scott Homan, whom I have now seen 5 times (3 in the last two days) and who entertains me greatly every time. I also performed at the early show Friday night. I have yet to have a great set in the new club, but I look forward to a breakout performance really soon! I think the pressure of being "Funniest Person in Memphis" is finally getting to me! It's tough man!

Okay, no. No it's not.

Did you ever take etymology (in which you study the parts and origins of words and phrases)? I did. They made us take it in high school. I found it fascinating. To this day, I often find myself wondering whence some of the things we say came. Last night, I said something to someone and they told me they “didn’t give a rat’s ass.” Rude, huh? Well, that’s okay. I’m not easily offended. But that did get me to wondering. Should my goal have been to say something so good and valuable that they would give a rat’s ass? Was there ever a time or place in the vast experience of humanity that a rat’s ass was considered substantial compensation for a job well done? “Thank you so much for that very valuable information! I feel like I owe you something. Hmmm… I know! How about this? What do you mean, ‘what is it?’ Why, it’s a rat’s ass, of course! No, don’t be silly! Take it. You’ve earned it, believe me.” **

** Yes, of course I recognize the fact that there’s an excellent chance you don’t give a rat’s ass about this, and I’m sorry. I hope one day to write something better. Maybe then you’ll give a rat’s ass. I hope so. I’m plumb out.

Chocolate on the Pants. A Shoe on the Foot.

Big day! I wore a shoe on my right foot for the first time in four weeks. Not for long, but still... what a feeling! I put the shoe on in order to ride an exercise bike - basically my first workout in four weeks. Yikes. I have gone quite soft. Soon, though, I will put a shoe back on and I will work out again. It's rather an elegant little plan I've put together, isn't it?

Earlier today, I met my parents and my nieces and nephew at an ice cream store for a few minutes to say hi. I sat in chocolate. It melted on my pants. The part of my pants that was directly over... well... the part of my posterior. Bulls-eye.

I don't know if you can envision this, but chocolate on your butt could, could look like... well... poop. That's no good. I was not far from home and figured I would go home and change pants. It was, however, nearing the end of the business day and I wouldn't need to be making many more public appearances in those pants. What a shame it would be, I thought, to have to go put on a whole new pair for just another hour or so of work. But people will think I have... well... poop on my pants, I pointed out to myself. And then it hit me...

Why on earth would anyone think I had... well... poop on my pants? Is there really any chance at all that I would have soiled myself, then thought, "No big deal! So there's... well... poop on my pants. That won't bother anyone. Not even me. I'll just work through it."

So I learned today that not only should we not assume that a brown stain on the rear indicates that its owner has... well... pooped on him or herself, but that if a person is walking around with such a stain, that is probably the most certain you could ever be that they have absolutely not... well... pooped.

You see? It's the clean-pantsed people we should worry about.

See me. Feel me. Touch me. Heal me.

Well, see me, at least. I have comedy video on the web. Finally! I have known I should get this done for a long time, but alas, I'm am a lazy, lazy person. There will be more to follow and you should watch early and often.

I am using YouTube, source of such famous videos as the recent viral smash hit, "History of Dance." Perhaps me performing my bit about grandparents' nicknames will be the next big thing. Well... I mean... it won't. But if I put up a better clip someday, you never know!

Best way to get to the video is to go to www.laughwithziggy.com and click the video link on the opening page. There is, of course, a direct link to the video, but I don't remember it and wasn't smart enough to copy it before starting this post so that I could paste it in. I'm sorry, okay!

I hope you are having a great day! Thanks for Ziggybackriding!

*Those who are creeped out by the title of this post should know that those are lyrics from The Who's "Tommy," nothing more!

The Real World

Well, I'm back. Back in the real world. What's that you say? You didn't know I was gone? Yeah, I probably didn't mention (since I haven't been writing nearly enough) that I was going to camp last week. I spent the week in Utica, MS (probably story enough!) at Camp Dream Street, a summer camp for children with physical disabilities. It was about my 13th year helping out there and it was as incredibly fun, funny, and touching as ever. You can find out more about Dream Street and see pictures of all the fun at www.dreamstreetms.org.

I have long known that things happen at camp that just don't translate in the real world. Things that just don't compute with any sense of normal life. Never in my 13 years at Dream Street or my 20+ at the summer camp where I grew up has it ever been more evident. Three nights ago, for instance, there was a moment when I paused to look at the situation, and just burst out laughing. (Two things: keep in mind that I am a 30 year-old man who works in commercial real estate and stand-up comedy AND be sure to read this whole thing 'cause it's gonna sound weird for a minute.)

I was sitting in a makeshift camp radio studio wearing pajamas, boxer shorts outside the pajama bottoms, a pillow case cape, a sleep cap (you know the long stocking cap with a little ball on top that no one in real life - but everyone in story books - wears to sleep), and of course, my boot for the foot that is hopefully healing well. Yes, that is how I was dressed, and what was I doing? I was hosting a radio show for children who were taking showers. (this is the potentially weird part. hang in there. Okay, fine. I guess we're past potentially.) I just looked at myself and what I was doing, and thought, "Wow! What kind of life is this? And more importantly, how will I ever explain this to people at home and to the loyal readers of Ziggybackride?"

So, here's an attempt to explain. The pajamas, boxers, cape, and cap were all part of my superhero costume (the theme of the week was Superheroes). I was "The Snore: snoozing for justice, putting the bad guy to sleep, wearing pajamas!" (I think you have to imagine that being said by the movie preview voice. You know the one.) And the radio show? There's a little radio station at camp that can be picked up on an FM frequency. It can also be heard by some of the neighbors of the camp, which is a little embarrassing, though I seriously doubt they were tuning in to The Power Shower Hour on Radio Dream Street 100.3 FM! The show was packed with good music, witty banter and fun interviews with camp characters and others. It even included an interview with college football announcing great, Keith Jackson, though I played Keith and interviewed myself, which I'm told was highly entertaining for those in the studio to watch. Ziggybackride reader and Dream Street enthusiast, Ben Dorfman (of dorfmangoestohollywood.blogspot.com) even called in to the show. That was a new high/low for Radio Dream Street.

Okay, this is getting way too long. Suffice it to say that the week was wonderful, the kids had a great time, and we all got to do things that we rarely have the opportunity to do. I feel very, very lucky to have been a part of it.