Where the hell have I been? Don’t worry about it. I was on vacation. I found out that I am allergic to free time and have developed a dependency on stress. The last few days of my vacation were a tormented hell for me. I need to keep my mind busy at all times lest it reach a critical core temperature and I have an “episode”.

Lots of stuff has changed in the past month. My approval rating with the ladyfriend is at an all time low. Ever the optimist, I consider it a “soaring disapproval rating”. I could write pages about it and moan about how much my soul aches and all of that, but then I’d fall into the mould of most of the writers on this site. Part of the reason it sucks is that no one else wants to hear you whine. We are better off if we just let it suck. Plus, I’ve never been a good boyfriend, so it’s not like I didn’t see it coming.

Just in case any of you had any misconceptions, this relationship crap (and the ending thereof) doesn’t get any easier as you get older. You just develop highly advanced coping mechanisms and ways of hiding it. It’s an art.

Over the Christmas break; I managed to clog the toilet of a relative stranger. Nothing says, “I feel welcome in your home” better than a turd so big it should have a periscope.

The whole part where you have to ask for a plunger is an exercise in humility as well.

I’m going to take another Improv class in February. Having taken the level one class and successfully made a theatre full of folks laugh with the help of my team, I feel I have developed the requisite moxie to pass the audition for the level two class. I have no idea what happens after the level two class, but my guess is that I am very funny.

Speaking of improv, I almost stabbed a guy last Friday at the improv club, where I volunteer on weekends so I don’t have to shell out $15 to see the show.

I just have to clean up after those who do.

Oh yeah, and occasionally become the target of some asshole who is determined to get into a fight.

As you may or may not have already read , I am like a magnet for maladjusted chops who desire to do harm to someone, and on Friday night, just such a guy came into the old improv joint with eight of his friends.

They had just come from some football game that had been played that day, and were quite intoxicated, as I noticed while checking their ID’s. Only one of them seemed to be a mean drunk, so I told the bar tender to keep an eye on him. The trouble started when they got in and realized they couldn’t all sit together because everyone was already seated. The asshole guy was all “WHAT THE HELL. We RESERVED our tickets. Aiggha get seats kliptaaah!” It was explained to him that the seats are first come, so that’s how it was. He was seated with two of his friends in the front row, and I sat on the end of the row. The three of them ran the spectrum of assholitude. The guy in the middle was asshole supreme. Probably an eighth degree assbelt or something, able to irritate and anger with a simple sarcastic gaze between his swollen eyelids. Total chop. The guy on his right was more of an enlisted asshole, perhaps going through AOTC (asshole officer training corps), and the guy on his left (next to me) had little interest in the ways of the anus, being pretty cool about the whole deal for the most part.

Before I delve into the whole drama fest, I’ll let you know what the rules are in an improv club. These are for your own good, should you ever find yourself in such a club. First, everyone comes to such a club ready to laugh, but they don’t necessarily want to laugh at you. There are professional Improv comics on stage to provide the giggles. Leave it to them. They are better than you are at being funny, and you yelling stupid crap out in the middle of their act will make them mad. They will outwit you and make you look very stupid. Second, when they ask for suggestions for subject matter, you can yell obscenities as loudly as you want, but they won’t pick your suggestion, no matter how insistent you are. Last, when they take people out of the audience, do not make fun of that person, no matter how badly they freeze up, how fat they are, or whatever. You may end up being the next one on stage, and you will go home crying.

During the first half of the show, Dan (I picked up his name at some point during the evening) kept yelling stupid, neither-funny-nor-particularly-enlightened crap, and his prodigy on his right giggled like a 30 year-old overweight, balding schoolgirl. He showed the utmost class when they took a woman from the audience and he commented not only on her “tight ass”, but her “great titties”. If every guy were as smooth as Dan, we’d all be getting laid.

At intermission, the stage manager asked me if I would mind politely but firmly telling Dan to hold it down during the show. Ignoring my better judgment, I agreed, but decided to do it where a couple of larger employees were standing nearby. I thought I was very reasonable, but it probably sounded differently through enraged, drunken ears.

Me- Hey, uhh…we’re all here to enjoy the show, and I’m glad you like it, but the whole operation works better when the audience participates only when they ask us to. No need to yell stuff out during the show.

What he heard- Hi, admiral smalldick. I am here to ruin your evening. I’m running a bit late as I just rolled off of your mom, but I just wanted you to know that you should shut up because you suck and no one likes you. Unfortunately, since I am a non-paid volunteer, the only way to rectify this situation is through male posturing and possibly violence. I hate you.

Dan- Dood…(pats me lovingly on shoulder), I ain’t doing nothing wrong. You folks just aren’t ready for a guy like me around here. How ‘bout you stop trying to ruin my fun and schpeskta waygone.

Me- mmm. Well, I have gotten a few complaints, and none of us wants to ruin your evening, but everybody has a right to enjoy the show.

What he heard- Well, I just want to fight you. The only thing that will give my life meaning right now is to kick you in the nuts, if you have any. You don’t, do you? That explains your shitty behavior.

Dan- What did I do? Name one thing. Name one.

Me- okay..you-

Dan- Name just one.

Me- okay..you-

Dan’s a-hole sidekick- one.

Me- You insultedthewomanwhogotonstageandtalkedabouthertitsandass.

Dan- (holding one finger up so he could better keep count) Okay, what else?

Me- I thought one was the magic number. Okay, you kept yelling “three” after every countdown, which made no sense, you kept saying something about circumcision during a scene, you tried to hand something to one of the guys on stage, and all of these are not okay. It distracts them, and the last thing you want is their undivided attention.

What he heard- SHUT UP AND PUNCH ME!

Dan- Well, ahsgink yer a BITCH (points at me to make sure I don’t think he’s talking to another bitch)

Me- Great, enjoy the show.

When the second half started, he got all pouty and said that if no one wants him in there, he’ll just sit outside. I told him he didn’t have to, but if he really wanted to, I’d get him a chair so he could still watch from the lobby. I got him the chair, and he sat sort of quietly for the rest of the show, muttering “three” after the countdown for every scene, because, you know, that’s really funny.

At the end of the show, I waited at the exit for everyone to clear out, and Dan decided that that was the perfect time to tell everyone there that this theatre was bullshit, they had no sense of humor, and he was never coming back. In fact, he said, “I’ll just go to Whole World Theatre across town!” One of the girls offered to call and make reservations for him, and let them know he was coming. I thought that was funny, so I laughed, which started the exchange that almost caused me to commit homicide.

Dan- (pointing at me again, because I have a hard time knowing when someone is talking to me, especially when they are five inches from my face) Well, if this little pussy bitch hadn’t gone around tattling on me, I’d still be a customer! You are an ASS!

Me- That’s what my mom calls me.

I have a tendency to make people laugh at the guy who’s being a jerk, which is probably the reason they end up trying to kill me.

Dan- Yer jessa’ little BITCH. (reaches out and flicks my forehead, knocking my hat to the floor)

I also am very good at avoiding violence. Until you touch me. Once you touch me, you’ve flipped my dickswitch, and bad things will happen.

My plan was to reach down, pick up my hat, and land a fist full of keys across his chin on the way back up. You develop more power if you punch with your whole body than just your arm. Something I learned growing up as a small kid who had to fight now and then. A bunch of keys sticking out between your fingers also causes much more damage, so that is the preferred method.

As I crouched down to pick up my hat with one hand in my pocket, I realized that I had my knife with me, and would very much like to see this guy lose 20-50% of his blood. Luckily I also remembered that stabbing someone for knocking your hat off is hardly going to fly as self defense. The firing of that synapse is what separates me from the common thug in prison because society put him there. There’s another word for it. Are you ready for this? Responsibility. That’s right. If I had stabbed him, it would be my doing and mine alone. Not Depression, white rage, the economy, or the fact that I was born into poverty. As such, I would have to pay whatever penalty the law deemed appropriate. I lost my cool for a couple of seconds, and had to consider the big picture. By the time I stood up, I had decided against even breaking his nose, as appropriate as that may have been. The consequences for that would have been telling the cops the story, having them write down a bunch of stuff, maybe a misdemeanor assault charge, and I’d go home with a sore hand.

Nope. I just stood up and said, “Okay, you’ve pretty much worn out your welcome. You can do whatever you want from here, but you will lose this one.”

Then his friends all grabbed him and said “Dan, stop it. You’re being an asshole”, and turned to apologize to me, “man, I’m sorry, he’s just super drunk. He’s not usually his bad”

So I told Dan, “Okay, now your friends are mad at you too. Congratulations, you’ve pissed off every person in the building. Now go home.”

His friends apologized profusely to everyone, but we all just wanted them to leave.

So Yeah…My life is…weird, right now, but I did get to seriously consider committing a violent crime. If you are mad about anything I wrote here, save it for when I am not as fragile so you don’t get stabbed.

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