Crazy-Pops

Well, like Andrew Ridgeley had to leave George Michael and like Garfunkel had to leave Simon, I've decided to go out on my own and leave this Crazypops place. So, if you'd like to hear more from Jeff C., who knows he can be WAY better than George Michael ever was (at least I'll never get caught engaging in a lewd act in a park in Beverly Hills - I mean, I rarely get back to California these days) please head over to my new blog at:

http://footprintsontheceiling.wordpress.com/

We'll leave Crazypops up for a while and then shut it down. So maybe somebody else can have the address. If they want it. Or maybe they just want your sex. Either way.

“By the time a child reaches nursery school, he or she will laugh about 300 times a day. Adults laugh an average of 17 times a day.” – Some important scientist.

Tired of sitting inside, eating leftover ham and watching it snow? Itching to get out, see some live performance, and laugh your newly enlarged ass off? Yearning to rediscover your inner child? The Rodents of Unusual Size Comedy Improv Troupe is very proud to present its first 2007 improv and sketch comedy show, Wednesday, January 17, 2007, 7:30 p.m. at the Avenue Theater. $10.00 gets you in and gets you a drink, so come out and laugh with and/or at us! Hey, you’ll probably get back those 283 laughs that you’re missing. And it’ll be good for you:

“When we laugh, natural killer cells which destroy tumors and viruses increase, along with Gamma-interferon (a disease-fighting protein), T-cells (important for our immune system) and B-cells (which make disease-fighting antibodies). As well as lowering blood pressure, laughter increases oxygen in the blood, which also encourages healing.” - "Science of Laughter” Discovery Health Website

Hopefully it will have stopped snowing by then and you can all get your cars out and get over there, but if you can’t, we’ll bring a snowplow to your street to dig you out! Oh, wait, wait, the Mayor says he already did that. Uh, yeah. Anyhow, we CAN promise that, if you make it to the show, you’ll have a good time and you’ll laugh and you’ll increase those tumor-killing cells, so you won’t have to go see your doctor and when he calls begging you to come in for a checkup you can laugh at him, too! Increasing your tumor-killing cells yet again! See that? It’s a cycle. A healthy, healthy cycle. A Catch 23. Or something.

See you there. Details below:

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

7:30 pm: Mid-squeak comedy!
$10 cover, includes one drink

The Avenue Theater
417 East 17th Avenue
(303) 321-5925
www.avenuetheater.com

www.myspace.com/rodentimprov

I just want to give a special shout-out to Honda for their new ad for the Honda Odyssey mini-van (if you've seen it, you'll know what I mean). Honda, thanks to you and your magical PR firm (or whoever thought of it), The G-Man (my 3 year old) is now walking around my house demanding the funk. In fact, he's gotta have the funk. He wants the funk. He's got to have the funk. He's even demanding that I tear the roof off the sucker.

Thanks, Honda. I always thought I was going to be the one to get The G-Man out of his rock and roll phase and into more esoteric forms of music. Actually, I appreciate the help. While I have explained to him about rock and roll and jazz and even soul music, I have not yet ventured into the funk, because I didn't think he was ready for the funk. But now he demands it. He wants the funk. So we're going to be spinning a steady diet of P-Funk around my house over the holidays so he understands what the funk really is. And he'll know when he has it. SO HE STOPS ASKING FOR IT, HONDA!!!!

Well, the holiday party season is upon us. And, being that I'm married to a Career Woman (she can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, and go to Canada to get the kind I like, too!), we go to holiday parties. Actually, we had one at our house a couple of weeks ago, which was surreal. There were 50 people in my house. And, a couple of times through the evening, they were all in the same room. Which was cool. I wish I had taken a picture, because it reminded me of one of those pictures from the 1950s where they'd cram as many college students as they could into a phone booth.

But, like Canadian Bacon, I digress. We've gone to several holiday parties this year, to be honest, because it's important politically to play that game. After all, Mrs. C has to maintain her high level job so that I can sit around the house all day noshing on Canadian Bacon and bon bons. Which don't come from Canada, I don't think. They're probably French. Or something.

But, again, I digress. So we've gone to several parties and, at one of these parties, I mentioned to somebody that I went to college in San Luis Obispo, California, and they started talking about wines, because that's an up and coming wine area and they are a big wine fan. Now, understand, I don't know dick about wines. Not that wines don't have dicks; they might. I certainly know that flowers do, now (see "Question of the Day" post below). Anyhow, so, where were we? Right. Holiday parties. And nothing like standing around talking about wine all night with a bunch of strangers. Especially when I don't know anything about them. That's where my improv skills come in handy. "Yes, the 1995 Wild Horse Pinot had a hint of the oak barrel in its flavor, while the 1996 Pinot was burdened with flavors of cat piss and donuts. Which, when you're 21 and in college, is a treat for the palate, but as you get older, you come to terms with the fact that donuts are an unsophisticated cuisine. Now where are those canapies?"

…I graduated from college. Saturday, December 13^th, 1986, was the first winter graduation ever held at California Polytechnic State University at San Luis Obispo (Cal Poly, as it’s known – or “Cow Poly” for you humorists). I guess up until then they never had anybody take more than 4 years to finish a degree, but for me and about 1,000 other slow students, a winter graduation was the perfect thing. Because, yes, I took 4 ½ years to finish a 4 year degree. As did 5 of my Architectural Engineering classmates (out of a class of 48).

What does this have to do with music? Well, dear friends, it has a lot to do with music. Let me explain. No, no time, let me sum up. 3 things:

1) I was, in some sense, aware of the big change I was going to go through. I had a job waiting for me in Los Angeles at a large architectural firm, I was leaving a small town, and more importantly, I was leaving all of my college friends behind and moving to a big city where I knew exactly nobody. So I was feeling slightly reticent to go through it all. And sad about losing what I had. And afraid of starting over. Then, a couple of nights before I graduated, I drove out to Los Osos (a smaller town right on the coast) to my favorite place at the time – a little coastal inlet surrounded by trees that nobody really knew about – and I sat and I pondered. And a song came into head. An incessant song that wouldn’t go away as I sat there, looking out over the water, pondering what was coming up. A song that somehow made it all okay. That song? “Solsbury Hill” by Peter Gabriel. More specifically, the part with the lyrics “grab your things they’ve come to take you home.” When that song wouldn’t get out of my head, I somehow knew I was going to be okay. And that I needed to go to Los Angeles.

2) As a defense mechanism against the deep emotional aspect of it all, my classmates and I employed humor to help us all enjoy the actual graduation day. And, being that it was 1986, and we all had a very bright future, we all wore shades to the ceremony. Yep, “The Future’s So Bright I Gotta Wear Shades” by Timbuk 3 was one of the hits of the day. It’s funny to look back and see that they were a one hit wonder, and that we used their one hit at our college graduation.

3) The Architectural Engineering Department had some sort of senior “party” that year, where we all got together somewhere to eat and drink and celebrate our impending Overworked and Underpaid status (little did we know!), and they asked me to provide the music for said party. Somehow I had a reputation for listening to lots and lots of music – probably brought about by the fact that I always had my Walkman on at our engineering lab, where we spent most of our waking hours, and by the fact that I was always listening to something quite loudly. Anyway, I made two 90 minute tapes for this party, and, sadly, the second one has gone missing. But the first one still exists, and yesterday I tortured Emily (my 27 year old assistant) with it by playing it. First I had to go find a tape player…what an archaic piece of machinery! Anyway, as a gift to you, dear reader, here is the song list from Mix Tape 1 prepared (from records!) in 1986 for a bunch of engineering students. Enjoy:

Side 1:

1) Old Mother Reagan – Violent Femmes (it was 1986!)

2) Let’s Go Crazy (12” remix) – Prince

3) Are You Leading Me On – General Public

4) She’s a Doll – Jesse Johnson’s Revue (he’s a former member of The Time)

5) I’m Down – Adrian Belew (the Beatles song)

6) Never Say Never – Romeo Void (“I might like you better if we slept together…”)

7) Bachelor Party – Oingo Boingo (the theme song from the movie)

8) La Bamba - Richie Valens

9) I Wished I Looked A Little Better – Sparks

10) Shining Star (live) – Earth Wind and Fire

11) Hungry Wolf – X

12) I Saw Her Standing There – Beatles

Side 2:

1) Can’t Get There From Here – REM

2) Close to Me (extended) – The Cure

3) Kiss Off – Violent Femmes

4) 867-5309 – Tommy Tutone

5) White Lines – Grandmaster Flash

6) Tell Me – Bangles

7) Shout – Otis Day and the Knights (From the “Animal House” soundtrack)

8) Modern Love – David Bowie

9) Jeanette – English Beat

10) The Bird – The Time

11) I Do – J. Geils Band

Crossposted from Waking Up With Morning Song

This morning I was trimming hair. From my ears.

Yeah.

Could be worse, I suppose. One of my neighbors doesn't trim any of his hair and he's got it coming out of every orifice and he's got a huge unibrow. Which, honestly, inspires me to attempt to keep myself trimmed. But still: from my ears? Dammit.

From The Mixmaster:

"Do flowers have penises?"

And, yes, I SO wanted to answer, "No, but trees do. That's where the wood is." But I didn't. I shouldn't confuse the boy.

From last night:

Tomorrow night (Tuesday, the 28th) is the ROUS' last show of 2006 and our last Tuesday show ever! That's right, at 7:30 p.m. tonight we go on at the Avenue Theater for the last time in 2006, and in 2007 we move to the third Wednesday of each month. We're done with Tuesday shows forever! Or until they ask us to move back to Tuesdays. Whichever comes first. If I were a betting man, I'd bet that they'd ask us to move before forever. Because, really, forever's a mighty long time, and I'm here to tell you - there's something else. The comedy world.

Get off the couch and come out tonight. And laugh. And cry. And hurl. If you've had too much turkey. Or cranberry sauce. (You know who you are.) See you there!

Your Political Profile:

Overall: 30% Conservative, 70% Liberal

Social Issues: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Personal Responsibility: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

Fiscal Issues: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal

Ethics: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Defense and Crime: 75% Conservative, 25% Liberal

Our pals at Monkey's Uncle Comedy Improv are having their 5th Anniversary Show tonight - check it out:

Something I found out just today: The Mixmaster thinks "Driver 8" by REM is the funniest song ever...if you replace all the lyrics with the words "chicken butt."

Crossposted from Waking Up With Morning Song.

Oh, the places we go: Last night I found myself eating prosciutto-wrapped figs and talking politics with some people at a fashion show. Yeah, I'm serious. The story of how I got to that point from my lowly origins in Chula Vista, California, is a long one, so I'll write that up in the next day or two. In the meantime:

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Overheard at lunch today: A conversation about the types of milk available at the Mixmaster's elementary school:

Second grade girl: "You can get chocolate milk, strawberry milk, and white milk. I know all about the three kinds of cows that make the milk and how they make it. The chocolate cow eats chocolate, the strawberry cow eats strawberries, and the white cow eats grass."

I spend a portion of the weekend cleaning out my closet - actually throwing away clothes I don't wear! - and organizing my sock drawers. ORGANIZING MY SOCK DRAWERS! And I actually ENJOYED it.

I'm worried about myself. Is this what it means to get old? If you know me at all, you know I'm a slob. At best. I once had 6 cats, I like leaving my shoes wherever I take them off, and I tend to let clothes pile up until I have nothing left to wear. That's my true nature. Or, it was my true nature. All of a sudden....okay, so maybe it's not "all of a sudden," because this has probably been a slow transition. After all, I have been married to Mrs. C. for 12 years now and she's a total neat freak. I think the only way we've managed to avoid divorce court is because we have a house cleaner.

Anyway, now I'm 40 something and I'm actually "getting" the benefits of having things clean and in order. It's sort of a Zen feeling. There's so much more peace around here when the toys are picked up and the dishes are done, ya know? And that, my friends, scares the crap out of me. Because it goes against everything I've ever been. I'm crossing over to the dark side. Those of you who are already there, please welcome me. I'll organize your sock drawer for you. And those of you I'm leaving behind? Pick up those socks! AND PUT THEM IN A DRAWER!

In Vegas a week ago, walking down stairs at Caesar's Palace:

"My uncle got his nose bit off by an iguana."

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A conversation between my 3 year old (The G-Man) and me:

Me: "You're precious."

The G-Man: "Of course I am."

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The G-Man having breakfast with his mom:

The G-Man: "Mommy, what's that under your shirt? Is that a bra?"

Mommy: "Yes, it is."

The G-Man: "Can I see it?"

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Putting the G-Man down for a nap:

The G-Man: "Daddy, from now on, my name's Bayster."

Me: "That's an interesting name. Where'd you get that?"

The G-Man: "California."

I'm a registered Democrat and a liberal at heart. And, honestly, when we went into Iraq after 9/11 instead of going after Al Qaeda with all of our resources, it felt like it was a huge mistake from the beginning. The current administration had the entire world behind it on 9/12/2001 and could have done some amazing things with that support. Instead, they screwed it up. It's a screw up and a war that, IMHO, will go down in history as one of the greatest blunders this nation has seen.

If you're a sports fan, you know about Pat Tillman. He was an NFL player with an NFL salary who left it all behind to join the Army with his brother and serve his country in Iraq and Afghanistan and was killed in a friendly fire incident in 2004. ESPN and others have covered his story extensively because, honestly, somebody who leaves behind what he left behind to serve his country is a hero.

Now his brother Kevin chimes in on where we are today. This is a must read. We'll get back to the comedy soon, but I had to share this. It's powerful stuff. And no matter what, please vote on November 7:

After Pat's Birthday.

I was told today, by a client, that I'm being "discourteous." Is that even a word? I mean, I realize you're waiting for something from me and that I've been horrifically slow in getting it to you, but if you're trying to get to me, please use proper English words. Maybe I'm being "disrespectful" or "not at all courteous" or even "the world's biggest jerk who I'm about to fire so I can go hire a decent structural engineer" or even "a dick," but I'm in no freaking way "discourteous." Because there's no such thing. And now? Now, because you are making up ridiculous words to describe my lack of professional care for you, I'm going to make up even MORE excuses as to why I haven't completed your stuff. "Sorry, dude, but my discourteousness has gotten worse and I've had to go see a specialist, who said I'm contagious and can't leave the hospital room. Oh, and since you and I had contact several months ago, when I started your stuff and said I'd have it done in a week, you probably now have discourteousness in your blood as well. The symptoms don't show up for some time. You should really get that checked out."

On second thought, if you want to get to me, go ahead and make up words. Because it obviously worked. Congratulations, you disintelligent dishuman.

Oh, hell, I just looked it up. I take that all back.

Here at Crazy Pops, we give you more value for your entertainment dollar. With that in mind, I'm starting a new weekly feature, called "Overheard," because the things children say and do are much too funny to keep to myself. Here's episode one:

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Overheard this week:

At the elementary school playground:

- 6 year old girl, running at full speed around the playground, saying to nobody in particular, "Who let the dogs out? Who, who who who who?"

- Two boys, swinging on swings. One of them says to the other, "Do you have your bling bling on?"

At my house:

- From the 3 year old, as he's playing cars and building a city. "Look, Daddy, it's a city! No, it's a town! No, it's a universe!"

- From the 3 year old, as I'm trying to convince him to get dressed: "Daddy, I don't love you anymore." (pause) "Okay, maybe I love you just a tiny bit. But I love Mommy more."

- From the 6 year old: "Daddy, Mommy's stronger than you." "No, she's not." "Yes, she is! She can lift up a whole house! But you can only lift up the attic!"

Back to our regularly scheduled comedy:

Like I said on Tuesday, I've been spending a lot of time at the Mixmaster's school. A LOT of time. Because, well, I have an anxious child. And he has trouble in certain situations. And, well, before you get to thinking that the situation is dire and that my kid's never going to make it out of first grade because he can't read or write or add, let me assure you that's not the case. No, my kid is doing fine where it counts: In reading, writing, and adding. Where he's not doing fine? The lunchroom. There, I said it. My kid is the one kid who, as soon as the lunch bell rings, starts crying. Because he's afraid of the lunchroom. He's also got a problem with gym class, but it's not as big a problem, because who the hell actually likes gym class when they're 6 years old, right? I sure didn't. Heck, when I was a kid, I played one season of little league baseball and never swung the bat because I was too afraid. So we know where the Mixmaster gets it from. And honestly, if the two major things that give my kid problems are lunch and PE, I think that's pretty good. It could be a lot worse.

But I digress. So while the 200 other 6, 7 and 8 year olds are crowding into the lunch room with all their friends, making all kinds of noise, being boisterous like only little kids can, my kid's freaking out because it's so noisy. He's always been a little sensitive to noise. And so, on his first day back in August, M (I'm getting tired of typing "The Mixmaster") ate his lunch in the school office, by himself. And so, subsequently, ever since then, for the past 6 weeks give or take, I've been walking over to his school with my own sack lunch and eating with him, Monday through Friday. I don't really mind, but it does play havoc with my schedule because I can't take any meetings in the middle of the day anymore. And we have been working on seperating more and more and eventually I'll stop going. And, being the super intelligent father that I am who doesn't have to resort to tricks, as soon as he can eat without me he gets to watch "Star Wars IV" AND he gets some trains. Parenting, my friends, is all about bribery.

But that's not the point of this story. That's just an uber-long setup. And if you're still reading, congratulate yourself for your stamina and resilience. And now, here, in Act III of this blog post, comes the comedy:

One day a week ago, it was going to be quite nice outside, according to the Denver Post. So I awoke, dressed my kids, made their lunch, and sent them off to school. Then, around 11:00, I dressed myself in my green plaid shorts, my yellow t-shirt, and my black sandals. Yes, it's a weird combination, but it looks good (if a 42 year old engineering geek knows what looks good, anyway - hahahaha!) and it's important to the story. So I walk over to see the Mixmaster and we grab our lunches and we sit down to eat. After we're done eating, we walk out to the playground to find a swing for him and a place for me to return phone calls (it's what I do at that time) and one of his friends walks up to us and says, "Hey, you look the same!" I look over at M, and guess what he's wearing? C'mon, guess! Yep - he's wearing green plaid shorts, a yellow t-shirt, and black freaking sandals. It was, in a moment, hilarious and creepy at the same time. Because I really don't pay attention to how I dress the boys, as long as they pseudo-match, and if you know me you know that I typically dress in whatever's clean, so the fact that I came up with same bizarre combination of clothes for me and my son says....um....I'm not sure what it says. But I felt like a dork standing in the hallways of an elementary school dressed the same as my kid. Like we planned it or something. And, really, when can you ever feel like a dork around a bunch of 6 year olds? That's an accomplishment.

I've taken some time off from the blog for other things....which I'll get to tomorrow. But first, I've been spending a lot of time at the Mixmaster's school, for reasons I'll explain later. And with the new round of school shootings that seem to be taking hold of our country lately, I've been watching the kids and thinking about what a cowardly act that is. If you're psycho and you have a gun and you want to end your life, go ahead. Go ahead and do it. Go out to the backyard, stick the barrel of the gun in your mouth, and do it. With nobody around. And if you hold a grudge against somebody in your past and you're psycho and you own a gun, put the gun in the gun closet, lock the gun closet, throw away the key, and go talk to the person from your past. Or, better yet, go buy yourself a pile of new CDs and spend a couple of days with your headphones on, getting over your grudge and realizing that life is worth living and grudges are worth getting over. Or go to Hawaii for a couple of weeks. Or go volunteer at a soup kitchen and see that your life isn't nearly as bad as it could be. Something.

Because if you're the kind of person who's psycho, has a gun and a grudge, walks into a school - which, honestly, should be the safest place in a community, with a church a close second - and starts taking out kids, there's a special place in hell for you. Children are the most innocent creatures in this race we call the human race and they don't have a freaking clue as to why you're mad and they don't really care why you're mad and they certainly don't understand why you're mad. And what the hell kind of point are you trying to make, anyway? "Hey, look at me, I can shoot kids!" Um, yeah, that's a Big Man right there. You've taken your stupid grudge against whatever/whoever out on innocent creatures who don't have anything to do with it and you've ruined countless lives. Imagine - somewhere in America tonight there are at least 6 households who are newly missing a daughter. That's absolutely crushing. To the spirit, to the soul. And there are countless other families who have sons and daughters who are injured, physically or mentally. And there are the rest of us, who are left to try to explain to our kids how such a thing could possibly happen and try to answer to questions like, "Why didn't their daddy save them?" And we go to our public school and we drop our kids off and we look around and if we don't recognize an adult face, we wonder what they're doing at our school. And we go to our public school and the other adults look at us and also wonder what our motives are for being there. And all we're trying to do is drop our kids off at what should be the safest place around.

Thanks, Big Men. Thanks for taking your silly grudges or your anger or whatever and shattering whatever idealistic notions we had about our communities and our schools. Fucking cowards. There's a special place in hell for you, doing unspeakable acts with other unspeakable cowards from history. And if there isn't a special place in hell for you? When I get there (I think I've done enough things in my past to warrant an admittance) I'll make one for you.

At this month's Radio Avenue taping (a couple of weeks ago), I was asked again to do a "rant," so I took my "Urinal Conversations" blog entry from below, tidied it up a bit, and performed it in front of a live studio audience! It was great. To enjoy - and I do mean enjoy - go here. Download it as an mp3 (see the upper right hand corner of the page) and start listening at the 42 minute mark for my rant. Or listen to the whole show - it's really very good. I play a policeman in one sketch and there was a woman on who runs www.liberatethis.com and talks about what's really happening in Iraq. Obviously that part of it's not comedy; overall it's a very good radio show.