Tag Archives: funny

Make The Leap or Pissing In A Sink

Preface: I was going to write an essay about the shameless commercialization and overall cheesiness of the holiday that is Valentine’s Day and the utmost importance of small intimate romantic gestures, but I felt this post (which was long overdue) was more important. And seriously fuck that teddy bear rose bullshit, my heart is a barren rock anyways. But please trust me, that essay will come soon. And with a vengeance that only the Old Gods would know.

Another small tiny preface: Be aware that I will post this drunkenly and on a whim without proofreading.  I am well aware that his post will be a convoluted loose mess. Which is fine because at this point in my life, I am too. I have written these posts as a form of venting and to be truer to myself. Know that I hope to one day alter, perfect and shape these posts to be something coherent that I can compile in a larger collection of my own thoughts at this point in time. That being said, consider this a first draft. Provide me with criticism and I will do my best to turn these pieces from drunken rants into something more…eloquent.



So, the only thing I can say is that it’s all about perspective. The lows or highs you once cherished or lamented will one day look meaningless or oddly symbolic (trust me angsty young ones). There was a very distinct time in my life when a much chubbier version of me stood pissing in his underwear (solely blue Haines for you undie perverts) into an unwashed slop sink in a basement apartment in a decrepit house where the water never ran and rain water dripped through the ceilings. Drunk on whiskey and shaking the last few drips off my dick tip, I would begrudgingly (as I had nowhere to walk) crush the crunchy squishy bodies of the cave cricket horde that bounced excitedly around me (sometimes three to four feet in the air!). After each of their tragic demise I would crouch next to them as the life left their oozing corpses and mutter a vaguely atheist prayer. I apologized for having to kill them and pleaded that in their afterlife they would be kind and forgiving to me in mine. I considered this at one point in my life an all time low. I had recently totaled my car, broken up with my first major girlfriend of two and a half years, discovered my father was fatally ill, and was soon to be evicted. Not to mention I was just beginning to grasp the concept of “game” in my Upright Citizens Brigade 201 Improv class. All in all times were tough. And all in all that last reference was very niche.

I know I got away from myself there and that’s dandy because I find these to be honest words. Although writing them on an excessive of confidence driven by lots of deep thoughts and acted upon by excessive drug and alcohol use is troubling, I find the need to rant therapeutic. So excuse me if I am too wordy, long windy, aloof or “all over the place”. If your oxford sensibilities can’t handle my erratic grammar, please take your left handed (as I’m left handed) and lick your palm nice and moist. Then promptly proceed to, and this is the most important step, stop reading and fuck yourself. Either by violent masturbation or fisting. Whatever suits you.

Christ, do I come off as a snarky and bitter cunt.

Although it could be, the main point of this essay is not depression and bipolar disorder (although anyone that knows me well knows I have a very intimate relationship with both), the point is all about what we perceive as the all-time lows of our lives. They are all very personal and subjective to each person. I mean how many times have we heard the sobs of a sullen drug addict saying he sucked dick before getting high? I mean, Christ, I could often do both of those voluntarily at the same time just for kicks. The point is that it’s different for everyone and very close to the heart. That being said, I will share with you some of my NOW “perceived” lows in the hopes that it may help a lost soul and that I may share myself with you in terms of loving myself.

So, where do I begin? I suppose from the beginning. And please if this whole thing seems a tad too self-indulgent, sign off. But if it seems interesting or if you can relate, please read on. What I consider my first real low was actually combined to my self-confinement in the strange hell that is New Jersey. A colorful but affluent barren wasteland filled with friends, loved ones and the promise (at least to me) of a brighter future in either ‘grand’ city adjacent states away (Philly or NYC).

I don’t currently hold any harsh feelings but with the promise of an easy commute to my dream of comedy (in NYC) I was somewhat duped into moving to northwest New Jersey. A friend of my cousin (fellow punk rocker) convinced me into moving into this massive house beside a creek that was to say the least falling apart. Often the fresh water didn’t run and I had to resort to using bottled water to drink or wash my hands. The shower was clogged up to my knees with gross dirty piss water and my ingrown toenail swelled to unbelievable sizes with infection. Rain water leaked through holes in the ceiling and I lived in a basement apartment (that I unsuccessfully tried to harvest large yields of psychedelic mushrooms in) with large otherworldly insects. Soon, my friend moved out leaving us unable to pay rent and me destitute.

In that year I nearly lost everything including my sanity, moved six times from house to house and eventually found myself homeless. With not many options left I moved into the cold unforgiving attic of a very welcoming family’s house (who had recently lose their mother, god bless them). In this time frame I was a complete animal. I fucked my girlfriend (kinda girlfriend, I really owed her a real relationship. Sorry Katie.) with no regard to her feelings, did pull ups from the beams in the ceiling, pissed in a collection of two litter bottles (not unlike Howard Hughes), fought constantly with a cat who pissed everywhere and popped my air mattress and huddled like a rat in rags with nothing but a space heater to keep me warm. I did copious amount of drugs and held solace in the kind band of sisters (Casey specifically) who would endure me. I thought at the time I was living the dream by attending UCB (the famous Upright Citizens Brigade Theater, founded by the quirky goddess Amy Poehler) and as much as I could commuted to the city to do shitty open mics.

I eventually had to move (at the request of their father) to an even colder house with an unbearable comic, his two dogs, filth and again no run had running water before I finally had enough.

Despite meeting some lovely supportive people and deeply bonding with an amazingly beautiful autistic young boy (I lived with his mother, and to be honest I owe him a post of his own), I had had enough of not being true to myself and trying to actually realize my dreams. As a preface, I just want to say that these times while dark for me personally and my ambitious goals, were not met with great people. Particularly, a fleeting unsustainable romance with a spacey hockey loving star child of a mother (a different one from the other) which I will always cherish. But this lifestyle of grinding and drug use was tiring. My strange complacency of living the lifestyle of an unheard tragic artist kept me from actually moving. It felt oddly justified but false.

It was only when this comic I lived with (a white man named Eddie Murphy) had financial troubles and I was given a week to move that I made the single most influential and important decision in my life. I was going to be homeless (again) in a week and despite moving several times with the goal in mind had of not having reached the false oasis that was New York City. Disgruntled, I was forced to quit my job and crash on my father’s couch in his apartment in Pennsylvania. Having made in my mind, massive steps backwards. I had tried to save money going back to my days in the attic “dwelling” and had found myself short of what I considered able to move to NYC. I, at this point, said “FUCK IT”, took what little of my pathetic savings I had, scourged craigslist and purchased a Uhaul with all my meager belongings. Within a week of having to leave my last ‘home’, I moved to NYC on a whim ultimately deciding that no time was ever going to be good enough.

And this is my advice for people that want to make that leap and follow their dreams. Those dreams as outlandish as they may be, can seem hopeless and unreachable. But to you I urge to “FUCK IT” proverbially and just go for it.

Make the leap. Trust me, you won’t regret it.

It may seem scary and you may have no idea of what future you may have. It may feel so alien and so unbelievably frightening, but I urge you to just do it. We’ve all heard unlikely success stories of that artist who with nothing but a shirt on their back and perhaps a car trekked to their destination to ultimately find success.  I am in my mind specifically talking about Bill Hick’s journey to Los Angeles.

I am here to say that this particular dream is a dreamy crap chute. You won’t find immediate treasures in your travels (as I didn’t, and still haven’t) but you will have made the first important step in your colorful ‘story’ of having realized your dreams. It may seem like things won’t work out and that you will be a cardboard sign carrying stinky bum asking for change (and in reality I’m not going to sugarcoat the truth, it may happen) but that first step will inspire you and feed the burning hunger in your soul necessary to realize yourself. As sappy as this seems, it appears that lucky fancies the bold and will favor to those who take chances. As much of as a fluke as it is, with no job oppurtunities, I luckily found two very profitable waiting jobs within the first two weeks.

Will you realize your dreams? No, maybe not. But will you rest assured that you made an effort and tried? Yes, you will. No longer will you have to be plagued by the troubling What If’s? Instead knowing first-hand what they exactly entailed.

It’s struggle. It’s hardship. And for an artist it’s anger and loneliness caused by what you perceived as your shortcomings. But trust me it’s worth it. If not for the opportunities you deem ‘important’ but for the comfort that you at least tried to reach your dream.

And I know, I’ve had many ‘lows’ which have been changed by my growing perception and I’ve not gotten to them in this essay (Perhaps I will in a post about depression), but I do have an ultimate point to make overall-

The point I’m trying to make is, Make The Leap.

Do it. Trust me, although it seems like it you might now, you won’t regret it.

My dreams are ambitious but not grandiose. All I want to do is make a simple living doing what I love, telling jokes from my point of view. And I may not be the success story everybody is hoping for, I am still waiting tables in Greenwich village. I am making numerous stand up appearances throughout the city, running my own stand up burlesque show at a prominent (up and coming creative) comedy club and I have now finished UCB’s main long form improv program. I am not the epitome of taking chances, but I am the epitome of a first step in realizing yourself and what you want. And I’m still growing.

So as my father once said ‘Stop Being A Goddamn Pussy” and do it.

Because I wasn’t happy pissing into a sink hopelessly and neither should you.


Upcoming Show Dates For February 2015

Sunday 2/15

FoxandFriendz 9PM (Marty O’Briens 1696 Second Ave, NYC)
Raunchy & Risque​ 10 PM The Creek and The Cave​)

Wednesday 2/18

Greenwich Village Comedy Club 8PM (99 Macdougal St, New York, NY 10012)
The Village Lantern 10PM (167 Bleecker Street, New York, NY 10012)

Wednesday 2/25
The Lemonade Stand 10PM (The Stand Comedy Club and Restaurant​)

Sunday 3/1

Raunchy & Risque 10PM (The Creek And The Cave)

Sunday 3/15

Raunchy & Risque 10PM (The Creek And The Cave)

Monday 3/16

3 Drink Minimum TV​ 8PM (Livestreamed show)

I’m Bisexual. Go Fuck Yourself. Because I Won’t.

“Hey! Boys Can Wear Dresses Too”

So, if you thought my last essay about my Dad was ‘bad’, read this, And go in with an open mind…or butthole.

As a preface, to any ‘friends’ or ‘family members’ who disagree with what I’m about to say because it’s about me sucking dick and eating pussy, sincerely go FUCK yourself and unfriend. I don’t need you. And if you get offended by me or this article, I don’t need your close minded bullshit in my life. You may say I am generalizing or am a smite against your ‘God’, but to that I say, STOP knowing me. I’m bored with your one lane mindset.  For all the male  “BRUH” bullshit comics, if you don’t find this truthful or interesting or you’re afraid of my truth, let me suck your dick and show you what’s what (not really you guys are disgusting puds). I’m done caring about you. I need to move forward and you’re only dragging me backwards. Also, if anyone knows a good Catholic confession booth I can wheel myself into that won’t suck my dick, please steer them my way. Not for being who I am but for writing an essay on a mix of hookah, alcohol, cocaine, comedic confidence and love.

Therefore, let’s go.

The first time I sucked a dick the only thing I could think about was how it didn’t really taste like anything.

I had gone down on many girls before. My ratio at that point had probably been somewhere between 20 girls to that one singular guy. And my findings were that vaginas could significantly taste different varying from girl to girl. With a sexual organ like that there were so many different things to take into account; was the PH balance fucked up? Did she shower or go running that day? How wet was she from making out first? Had she previously had a yeast infection? It could go a number of ways.

But when I put that extra three dollars into the bill acceptor in the jerk off booth at the back of the porno shop, and my friends dick came through that slot in the sliding glass door and into my mouth, the only thing I could think was-

“Hmmm. It doesn’t really taste THAT bad.”

I don’t know, maybe he was really into his grooming and the pampering of his member but to me it kinda didn’t taste like anything. Something like a fleshy pulsing warm meat popsicle. But not necessarily bad. Then again, it was the first dick I sucked (they can taste bad like anything else). And to go further, it’s not the actual sucking part that tastes bad, it’s what comes at the end. When he comes. Which to be honest, ladies, you’re over exaggerating.

I mean to be honest I’m not opposed to tasting cum. Being on a long distance relationship with a long term girlfriend (an exoctic Puerto Rican goddess, you know who you are), I once ate my salty baby batter on a dare on Skype. And to be honest, I’ve tasted many off putting vinegar-y vaginas, so how is that any different?  I ate pineapple juice so it tasted sweet!

If any of you know me, you’d know that I am pretty openly bisexual (and if you don’t we need to be better friends, or I don’t care to know about you or me). Not that I identify myself as bisexual per se but when it comes to brass tax and defining things in terms of black and white instead of abstract and grey, I have to sometimes assume a label. (Because you assholes make me, Auntie I’m looking at you).

I tend to define my sexuality in terms of the Kinsey scale, which states that no one is sexually fully straight or homosexual. Homosexuality in my mind is in terms of gray and deviations. Do I typically seek out long term relationships with women? Yes. Do I want to have sex with women? Oh my god yes. Almost to a fault. Do I want to have sex with men? Yes, almost to a fault. I am addicted to sexual attention and even more to attention in general. It’s a fault in me that I want to be wanted. I want people, not just women, but everyone, to want to have sex with me. Is it wrong of me to purposely be sexually obtainable? In a basic sense no, but in an overall sense, yes it is. It’s an addiction.

If somebody doesn’t fuck me in a week, I get antsy. I get the shakes,

I want people to fuck me because in the end not only do I want to be desired but I am also helplessly addicted to sex. The euphoric rush of getting my rocks off no matter the sex is a fault, a treasure and an addiction of mine.

I hope in writing this small confession that I secretly with a small spitefulness hope that my extended family is disgusted. I know in the end some of the more open minded ones will understand but that the majority will just assume I AM GAY. Which isn’t true. Not in the least. Just ask all the women I’ve fucked senseless (or for the women who don’t think so, I fucked half hearted on a drunk or coke addled dick). Looking back I wish I had more viagra.

If they (my old punk bandmates Shaughn or Jack, my cousin who I hold so dear and love) ever reads this, I hope they fully understand although I hope they do. And to that point I hope my so called “gay” friends, who are so eagerly judgmental (and the whole community) of my sexuality come to appreciate and understand a truly bixexual person. It’s not an identity.

And please to all my biphobic friends (gay and straight) please understand that I don’t want to fuck all of you. Gross! I mean, in all reality, I’m sure you’ve met a woman or man, you’ve never wanted to fuck. Just because you’re a man(sexuality excluded) doesn’t mean I want to throw myself down and suck your dicks and just because you’re a woman doesn’t mean I am in capable or don’t want to give you my mouth.

I’ll lick that pussy up. (I sincerely hope my gay friends gagged at this).

How short sighted and shallow. Please, get over yourselves. You may be fuckable to some but just like everybody else you’re not fuckable to me. And to my gays, for a community, who knows the sting of close minded conservative communities, a large portion of you (more of my friends than I’d like to admit) have been hurtful and close minded yourself. I understand being “bisexual” to many of you was a transitory phase, but not to me. I live in this beautiful greedy reality.

It’s wonderful! Amazing even.

So, if you feel this way, please stay away (homo or hetero), I don’t want you to change or “turn” me to what you feel is the appropriate “side”.  I am happy with myself, my sexual orientation and my identity. So please accept, or sign off and kindly leave me alone. I’ve gotten enough ‘testimonials’ from both sexes telling me I changed their ‘mind’ or made them ‘believe’. And to the last few ‘girls’ who told me they couldn’t believe I was a ‘real man’. Fuck you. Weren’t your legs shaking I do recall? (Not that I am a sexual pariah, which I am not, but who made you cum?) Answer is..ME.

That aside, I will disclose to you which is a very personal experience to me and many others, the experiences in which I identified my love for others and the experience in which I embraced it.

So I’ve always acknowledged my bisexuality on a numerical sense. Being a young awkward overweight kid obsessed with science and statistics, bisexuality on paper doesn’t seem too outlandish. With nearly seven billion people on the Earth it seems somewhat crazy to assume that not one handsome man might be your soul mate. The odds are theoretically against you. To assume out of that many people that a man might sweep you off your feet is scientifically irresponsible.  Just accept it homophobes there is a guy out there who can make your knees weak.

That being said, the first real time I came to this realization was ironically tripping (on 6 hits) of LSD with my girlfriend at the time in her parents’ house (where we lived). It was an incredible and sublime experience (and my intense love affair with hallucinogenics will have to be for another post). It was the season of fall (my absolute favorite) and amongst watching the leaves change color and die, we were riddled with drugs.

We stocked up on pumpkin flavored beer and fresh sashimi from the local Japanese joint. We bunkered down and watched Finding Nemo (which was wondrous) and The Nightmare Before Christmas and Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory (which were less than ideal suggestions; seriously that sequence in the boat with the Grim Reaper Mowing were made for us!). We had a wonderful time until my girlfriend at the time spewed her guts upon the bathroom mat. Being somewhat cognoscente I made the choice to rush downstairs and throw it into the washer while speaking falsities to her mother whose head would not stop swelling and moving.

“Yeah! You’re right. It must have been the sushi that made us sick.” Heh. Lies.

Regardless, following this sobering incident, we resorted to hanging out in her room while she was absorbed in being a ‘psychedelic kitty”. She zoned out while I ranted about quantum mechanics and blackholes. With nothing to sound of from as she was in a state, I reached a startling and daring realization.

I came to this strange idea that perhaps in an alternate dimension that we were the same sexual being but split in this reality. Her being the female portion and me being the male form. We were the same perfect person but split in unfair gender definitions. I gripped my penis (rather harshly) and wondered why I couldn’t wear a pretty dress if I wanted to.

Why was this lump of flesh dictating my behavior and everyone’s interpretation of me? It all seemed so incredibly unfair. I REFUSED to allow my physical body to ever decide my feelings or intuition again.  If you wondering you savages, we fucked. And she came. It was great. Not that I condone drug use (But I do, but I’ll get to that another time).

Why couldn’t I do what I wanted to? Not that I wanted to wear a dress or lipstick and fuck men, but more importantly why couldn’t I if I choose to? Being a libertarian, why wasn’t I free to do as I please? Especially to my own body? I have the right to do and act as I please. As long as it doesn’t involve animals or children. Which my mother always said. But that’s a whole different essay.

This sudden thought process shattered my idea of gender roles in our society from which it never recovered. I may try to glue the pieces back together but the cracks never evaporated.

It never made sense again.

This same girl years later (as much as I love her as a person and fellow druggie) when confronted about my sexuality despite being an adventurous psyhconaut seemed mystified.

“Why would you want that? When you can have this?”

She asked in my mind seemingly groping her body for clarification. As if her intense womanly form would every dissuade me from my conclusions. Her interpretation seemed childish and small minded when my own mindset would never remain the same. Perhaps she was struggling with the idea that the man that once fucked and ate her out to orgasm could ever even accept the otherworldly ‘unnatural’ alternative. My father when my brother confessed the details came to him came to me surprised, disgusted and appalled. As we folded clothing, he asked –

“But you sleep with girls right?”


“You fuck beautiful girls. I’ve met them.” Weird thing to say. Thank you, Pops for saying you want my girlfriends,

“Yes, and?” I replied.

“I just don’t get it. Why would you want to fuck a man?” He asked relenting.

And so to my dear drunken Papa, you don’t have to. I don’t expect you or anyone else to understand. I’m just asking for you to accept it. I am attracted to and fall in love with amazing beautiful people.

The COCK is a sleek and sturdy amazing piece of work. The VAGINA both comforting and outwardly floral. Both are beautiful. If you believe in a ‘God’ (which I don’t), they made them both this perfect fleshy form of fucking. Therefore why cannot I appreciate the craftsmenship in either? Although they both tend to leak in anticip-

Pation! Even though one bleeds. Which I don’t really mind. Seriously, just put a towel down. Stop being a pussy. I still like you regardless.

People still aren’t able to understand. And so to explain things I resort to pandering and give this explanation.

I’ll leave you with the experience in which as a bisexual, I truly felt beautiful and free.

I was at a pretty popular bar and club. Fuck disclosure, it’s the uptown Dream Hotel in NYC.  Unfortunately it’s the one that houses jock stereotypes and cheap beer. I was with a hetero friend named Eric (I’m sure he wouldn’t be upset being outted) and we regaled in guessing the relationships of partners, being analytical as we do. A gorgeous muscular man named Greg (which I came to find later) was dancing with an insatiable sleek red head woman (whose name I don’t remember). They danced to and fro so seductively and precise.

Eric was convinced they were a couple but I disagreed and I was sure by Greg’s movements (I could just tell). And so I made a bet with Eric that they were plutonic. I bet That Greg was just a friend and that his illustrious freckled companion was a trained dancer (she was really good and graceful). To prove my point, once they stopped dancing, I made a point to pony up next to Greg and gather information. Lo and behold judging by his demeanor and voice I could tell he was part of the ‘family’ (which in hindsight isn’t fair and prejudiced in itself, but I just knew). Greg and I hit it off and I gave him my number to meet up later.

A fellow comedian friend of ours with a slew of gorgeous Korean girls and a filmmaker decided it was best for us to head to a very popular hotel to an expensive rooftop for drinks. Being broke as shit, I obliged. Wearing a punk rock t- shirt and cut off jean shorts (which were against dress code) I got us into the expensive club where a bottle of vodka was at minimum four hundred dollars (I wasn’t paying). I smooched my way into the club with my dare I say boyish charm past the beautiful dark skinned Maitre’d. To impress my new friends, I invited Greg and his gorgeous fire headed friend with hopes of sleeping with either of them.

The excitement proved too much and the striking view of midtown Manhattan somewhat startled them. I really wanted either of their immaculate bodies but alas the dancer had a boyfriend and seemed disingenuous. But I didn’t care.

Because I was caught in a liberating win-win situation. I would get in with her gorgeous gay friend and fuck her, and if it didn’t wouldn’t work out, I would just fuck him. Not that he was a second choice as he was an Adonis.

In the end, she wasn’t interested and he was. In the dreary rooftops of an expensive hotel dimly lit by paper lanterns, I asked if he wanted to go home with me. Thus initiating my first real gay experience with a nine inch cock.


We drunkenly went back to my house where I recited some half ass terrible poetry and he fawned over me. And after a long discussion over who would fuck who (which I came to learn is a common disagreement in that community), I fucked him sore with my ass.

He came quickly telling me my ass was tight (I hope my father faints at this), and after we both went to sleep. He left that morning abruptly, and I resorted to a slippery asshole (from the lubed condom) and a very gratifying shit in which I voided my bowels with ecstasy.

That being said, I have slept with many desirable women (most than more  you douchehating fucktards can attests to) and men (beautiful studs) that both have left my legs quivering.

I have never felt so desirable and fuckable in my life, and I’ve never felt so free in my life. In a weird twist I pity you ( both gay and straight) because I can do whatever I please liberated from social norms and the homophobic gay/comic community. For the gay men who say I should just convert (try me) and for the women who feel I am in incapable of screwing you into a coma (try me) or meeting their needs ( I will eat you out until the sun comes up), please call me. I am not a faggot, or a fancy. I am a MAN (first), who regardless of your gender or sexual orientation finds you beautiful. Also I may be a sex addict. Seriously, call me at 267-694—

(My editor asks that I refrain from using my real number because he gets jealous).

The Hamster Rant or Addled Adderall Asinine Aggresively Apathetic Rants

So I found this recently  on my computer from when I thought I was apparently the poor mans  Bill Burr, Bill Hicks and Doug Stanhope. I call it the HoBurraHicksAHopelessHomelessAStan. Can you tell I like like alliteration? Anyways, and now for the humiliation.

Full Disclosure I may or may not have written these completely stoned and tweeked on Adderall. Allegedly.

Hamster Rant

You see we’re just hamster’s carrying AK-47’s.

Weddy to infwiltwate wif cuteness sir!

Let me explain. Too many people. Not enough stuff like food and water which you need to not be dead. I recently saw this Vice documentary about this terrible little Indian slum where people were living out of plastic barrels and kids were grinding away in shops making Walkman. And that’s not even the worst parts! Oh, No! People don’t even use them anymore. They’re inefficient and cost fifty cents. They’re inefficient and they don’t even know!

But in the distance the tallest skyscraper in the city is like eighty stories tall and is the house for the richest guy in the town. Let me just repeat that, he has so much useless shit that he has to put it all in a skyscraper. With a full staff, who just kinda watches and organizes he endless collecton of what I can only assume is reruns of the Kardashians, hair gel and gold chains. And he drives Lamborghini’s around in the street with the common folk! Next to like a dude with like a bag of a couple thousand plastic bottles on a moped and he’s carrying a rooster and a donkey. And they’re carrying scrap plastic too.

African Overload
Imagine this bull fuck of a monstrosity but on a tiny blue moped from the Cold War. 

And you could see the reporter with almost tears in their eyes asking the plastic people making george foreman grills, how they could deal with that guy in town? And you could almost see, it was hard for them, to just to not say “Oh Frank, we’re all about to murder that guy.Yeah at midnight, Phil, the gang and I are pulling this greasy Armani wearing fat ass, and probably spit roast him. Because he is more nutritious than mud crumbs out of an old Fritos bag.”

“Welcome to my humble abode peons…” Seriously go fuck that guy with a platinum plated jeweled dildo.



cute hamster
So friggin’ cute. And fluffy! Just like people before they grow up.


See I think people are kinda like hamsters, if there’s one or just a few they’re pretty adorable. Just imagine one day you’re in your house and these adorable little two inch tail people just show up. They’re precious and dance with all these little ideas. But they’re procreating like hamsters, and everything is covered in hamster people. You’re wading through the litle bastards. Pretty soon you’re like there’s too many fucking hamster people! I can’t shower, or lay down, or move or jerk off with out feeling guilty. They judge me! Oh, my god is that one smoking crack and suicide bombing the other one? Is that one taking pictures of the other one’s naked ass to break the internet? They have to be stopped! Next thing you know you’re punting them into walls, and putting them in blenders, making meat smoothies, just curb stomping all those little mother fuckers into the furry oblivion from whence they came from. You would be so angry at how shitty and plentiful these hamster people were until you begin screaming I am become Death! The many headed god of hamster apolcalypse! Feel my wraith Mr. Snuggles! That’s kinda what I think of people. Worthless little fluffy things with AK-47’s. They were cool when it was just started. But now they’re kinda lame.


“They got too big for their own good. I knew them before they were cool.” -Hipster Hamster Dude circa Williamsburg












Which brings me to next bane of my existence and solution to my sanity, I’m talking about World Star Hip Hop. Which is essentially Youtube for morons. I would say they should be sterilized but in most of the videos they doing it themselves with nutshots. Who is more dangerous to society twats pulling out each other’s weaves in a McDonalds lobby while holding their babies? Or methed out rednecks 9/11 illumanti truthers firing RPG’s in the woods and screaming ‘Murica? Answer is neither. They’re equal.

Please consult this music video for further advice.

Sometimes I seriously feel like with every video I watch of someone doing the Nay Nay, I lose a chapter from Ulysses that I read. Like after hearing people fascistly chat “World Star! World Star” for a few hours, I lose brains cells and memories. I’ m like “Damnit! I lost my first kiss! Just lot that one. Shit, yep. All my Anchorman quotes are gone! Milk was a bad choice!” But there is a flipside if you will. A silver lining. With every douche that bites it accidentally parkourking off a construction site or leaping into the tiger pit at the zoo, I feel the human race getting a little stronger. Natural Selection. The dumbest are weeding themselves out for fame and paving the way for my curdled gene pool. Now I’m not saying every life doesn’t matter, I’m just saying most of them don’t.
The way I see it my pudgy pale nerdy CHUD-looking offspring might be able to live fulfilling lives. Lives without weirdly innapappropriatedren beauty pagents, homophobia, mysogngy, the band One Direction or police officers killing unarmed people. If we keep ourselves learning and let these scat munching caveman dude die out, we might just make it. World Star Hip Hop has inspired my hopes for books in the future and for humanity. It has also inspired my hopes for more twerking asses. Lots of twerking asses.












Somehow it’s cuter when puppies do it.
Look at these bitches go!
They fell in puppy love in a boneless place.
These puppies are just doing it to get back at their stepdad, Chad! You’re not our real dad!
Look at these Thotweilers!


Alright, that’s all I got.


Oh Yeah, I Run a Show Now: Raunchy & Risque!

And you should like totally check it out by clicking the banner below:







It’s at 10pm on the 1st and 3rd Sunday of every month at the lovely The Creek And The Cave Comedy Club (10-93 Jackson Avenue, Long Island City, NY 11101) (718) 706-8783










Here’s a little bio about the show and a small mention in the Village Voice:

“RAUNCHY RISQUE is the brainchild of comedians Freddie and Charles Stunning. Bringing comedy back to its vaudeville and cabaret roots, R & R is a no holds barred strictly R-rated comedy variety show. Proudly featuring filthy stand up and story telling acts sandwiched between some of the hottest burlesque acts in the city. If you want to be shocked, disgusted and slightly turned on, then come out to see one of the most outrageous shows this city has to offer.
Featuring the insatiable sultry vixen Charles Stunning who is part of the hilarious Afterbirth Monkey comedy musical duo (known for their many comedy festival appearance and award winning music video It’s Raining Dicks) and Freddie Heinemann (UCB graduate and NYC comedian).”

And from the Village Voice (click for article):

Raunchy and Risque

The Creek and the Cave, [Sunday], 10pm, [Free]

Don’t bring your mother to the Creek tonight. This new show is trying to inject some old-school vaudeville and cabaret salaciousness into stand-up comedy. Strictly R-rated, it blends dirty joke-tellers with morally liberated burlesque performers.”

Here a few pictures to gaze your lovely vision balls upon from our Christmas 2014 show:

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Pretty sexy eh? I know. Schnazzy as fuck. Anyways, check out our next one, which is tonight! Click the poster below for more info:

New poster

Alright my friends, my peeps, my cohorts, my noun for friends! I have a couple shows coming up! Hooray!


Come check me out at:
Wednesday 5/27

8pm Stand Up NY (236 W 78th St, New York, NY 10024

(212) 595-0850)

Sunday 6/1

8PM RAPTURE LOUNGE (34-27 28th Ave, Astoria, NY 11103
(718) 626-8044) for the incredible Afterbirth Monkey show!

Sunday 6/1

10PM The Creek and The Cave (10-93 Jackson Ave, New York, NY 11101
(718) 706-8783)  To do stand up for the hilarious The Internet Disagrees show!

Monday 6/9

7PM Casual Showcase (448 E 13th St, New York, NY 10009
(646) 746-1357)

Wednesday 7/16

8PM StandupNY (236 W 78th St, New York, NY 10024
(212) 595-0850)

I’m Not Dead Yet! Some show dates.

So I haven’t been very good at updating this thing with show dates…or at all. But here are some dates of mine coming up!


APRIL 13th – Rapture Lounge (34-27 28th Ave, Astoria, NY 11103) 7:30 PM

This should be a fun one as it is a Vaudeville style variety show hosted by the lovely taco infatuated comedy duo




APRIL 27th – Rapture Lounge (34-27 28th Ave, Astoria, NY 11103) 8 PM

Performing for Ben Rosenfeld’s awesome comedy shows!

MAY 12th – Casual Showcase ( M.White Bar, 448 E. 13th Street, between 1st and A) 7 PM

This is for the lovely Leanne Linksy and her great group Casual Sketch, Free show with a one drink minimum!

MAY 21st – Character Flawed (STAND UP NY 236 W 78th St, New York, NY 10024) 8 PM

The famous Character Flawed up and coming show is a 13 year staple in the comedy community hosted by Bob Dibuono. Tickets are $15, 2 drink min. By them online or at the door!


So Assassin’s Creed Is Real…

Because scientists have somewhat proven that human memories (such as fears and dislikes/likes) can actually be passed down through genetics.

Which explains why most people are afraid of snakes for example even if they have never encountered one. Does this mean I can blame my cynicism, unbearable sarcasm and hatred of Root Beer on my parents fucking? Because that would be cool. 


Full article is here:


So There’s A New Double Dick Player In Town…Literally










Two dicks! I have two wieners!

As some of you may know there is an condition known as Diphallia in which a man is born with two penises (one of which is usually removed at birth and doesn’t function). However a man going by the apt pseudonym DoubleDickDude has posted a reddit AMA (with some NSFW pictures) regarding his highly photogenic uncircumcised dicks. He has also mentioned that he is involved in a monogamous three way relationship with a man and a woman and that he is bisexual. Because I suppose if somebody fucks the other dick it isn’t considered cheating? What a loophole. This man should become a lawyer. 

Anyways the AMA is pretty interesting and worth a read.

You can read the article and see the pictures here:



Also of note is this article which is about an 1800’s circus performer with Diphallia who against all odds met, fell in love with and married a woman across the globe (who was also a circus performer) and had two vaginas. And people say love doesn’t exist!

The article with the NSFW pictures are linked below: