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“Dog in The Park” with Maddog Mattern!!!
OK. I wrote a blog about vegetables. I liked it. But I know people want scandal from me. So I promised at the end of that piece I would go out drinking and try and hook up. Well damn, kid I is a man of my word. Snippity snappitity!!
Sunday night Brooklyn. It’s colder than a penguin’s vagina. It takes me 4 trains and over 2 hours to get to this gig. The crowd is colder than the weather outside. They are a swiss cheese crowd. Spread out and not filling. Hard to get anything going. After a couple minutes comics would look at the crowd and freak out. I closed the show. I felt like a kamikaze pilot waiting to crash my plane and die. There was a guy in the front with an Asian girlfriend who didn’t say a damn thing. He was a statue. More stoic than Brutus in “Julius Caesar.” My set starts good. Energy up. F U attitude in full effect.
Next thing you know a girl from the crowd recognizes another girl in the crowd in the middle of a rant. I repeat bubbas…….MIDDLE OF THE RANT!!! They were at the gig the whole time. They recognize each other in a lightly populated room two hours into the show. Momentum was lost. I dream of a piano falling on my head “Looney Tunes” style. Gig ends. All the comics want to drink cyannide. I drink wine. Decide to take ride from friend.
Before I walk out this girl I’ve messed with a couple times gives me a vibe. I contemplate staying and letting out my frustrations with a massive hookup. I leave instead. She is nuttier than Chinese chicken salad. I didn’t need her nutso talk to make me feel worse. On the way to my friend’s car I realize I need something to write about.
Glutton that I am I go back. She’s already talking to another kid. He looks like he works in the music department at K MArt. I sit by myself now committed to drinking like the scourge I have become. The girl who killed momentum shakes my hand and tells me how great I was. Nobody likes a liar bubbas. Her friend akwardly starts a conversation with me. She’s a beautiful blonde with a big chest and Buddy Holly glasses. She tells me she is an English major. Game on player. Or so I thought babies. The conversation starts weak. We are like two fighters trying to figure the other one out in the early rounds of a boxing match. Jab, step back. JAb, guard up. Jab, Hold. I switch to vodka soda, hoping it will make me feel like Don Johnson in the 80’s. I still feel this is going nowhere. I want to hang myself. Bombed onstage.
Now I feel I am bombing with my blonde salvation. Some how I feel like I had this coming. I start embracing the lack of connection with her. Every missed one liner, and every time she looks away from me, I start feeling an eerie calm. Bombing builds character. Onstage and in real life. Failure is what makes us who we is babies. Falling off the bike leads to being able to riding the bastard like Evol Kneiviel. I text my roomate this message. “I am totally bombing with this girl. And I’m ok with it.” I take a leek. Come back and………… To Be Continued
Written by Maddog Mattern
Tags: Darkness on The Edge of Town, Dog in the Park, Maddog Mattern, maddog mattern's blog, maddog's blog, The Comedy Point
