The Great Florida Trip of 2012- Day Fowa
Just a special note...I'm better at writing in the morning, so these accounts are blogged the following day. My mind is clearer in the morning, in fact, a lot of writing books tell you that you should write the first minute you get up. The problem with that is I'm always peeing in the first minute, so I usually starting in the second minute, sometimes on the third minute, depending on how much I had to drink the night before. Today I started on the 49th minute because of last minute wheeling and dealing of setting up the best motel deal for me. And, I can successfully say, I did. But, that's day five material, I'm here to talk about day four.
It occurred to me, yesterday(day 4) that there's a vast difference from being on vacation and working. I'm in Florida to work. I've been here on vacation, so I know the difference. Vacation is fun because you forget about the work, you put it away. That part of the brain is dark, the lights are off, there's nobody home. It feels good and you're at ease. Working, is different. Calls have to be done, goals have to be accomplished and bottom line, money and or important connections have to be made. It's a stress and a bit of a bummer because I'M IN FLORIDA.
It's the routine that counts. Doing the same routine that I do back home is key. It put me into a good place and I feel good this morning. I feel like my old self again. Two things make me feel at home: tennis and comedy. I did both of them yesterday. The tennis was less than stellar but it felt great to be outside amongst the palm trees and hit tennis balls. I do love palm trees.
The comedy portion of last evening was a lot of fun as well. A friend of mine from Boston, who lives here now, introduced me to a local fellow/comedian who kind of acted as my informal guide for the evening. He's a very gregarious and energetic chap who shares the same passion for barbecue as I do. He recommended a place right down the street from where the gig was called, "Slow and Low". Perfect name for a barbecue joint. We met there before the show. Long story short, the ribs were spectacular, just like he said they'd be. We shared many laughs and I'm happy to say I met a new friend here in Florida. Typical guy bonding conversation, it was cool.
The only problem of the night was after I ate. You see, being on the road, your eating routine changes, and for some reason, maybe it was the hot barbecue sauce I smeared all over my juicy succulent baby back ribs, I had to run to the bathroom. It was horrific but I want to make perfectly clear that it didn't diminish the meal whatsoever. It was just having normal good food that did the trick. I thought that was the end of it but little did I know.
As my new friend and I were walking into the establishment where the comedy show was, I innocently squeezed out a slight fart. But, it wasn't quite a fart. In which I exclaimed, "I think I just shit myself!" To which my new friend replied, "Go check it out, dude." Then proceeded to laugh and laugh and laugh. To his credit, he did check on me when I was on the "thrown". I said, "I dodged a bullet, it was just a wet fart." He laughed and almost shit himself. Was it an omen for the comedy show?
Quite. I had a great set, other than a bit of a lull when I did the newer personal material that needs work, but I was pleased nonetheless. My buddy went up and did a guesty and ripped it as well. We celebrated our triumph by having a beer and watching the headliner, a Mr. John Ferrentino, who mixes magic and comedy and is quite good at it.
Well, what happened next was insane. My new friend farted. He owned up to it, which I respect. But, this "thing" was so bad it was good. Good in the sense that it did its job as being gross. You guys know what I'm talking about, right? It's one of those stinkers that 50 years from now I could run into this guy and say, "Remember that fart?" And he'd know exactly what I was talking about. This fart definitely had that, "do you remember where you were" characteristics reminiscent of past horrific events in world history. Oh, this guy's name is Duncan. I won't give his last name but it starts with the letter "J". Duncan J. @funduncan.
One more thing, this fart influenced me. Seriously. I, and this is no lie, had a dream last night that I was at a bar. A dude cut a tremendous fart and people scattered. The next group of people I was talking to, someone did the same and we scattered again. Then, a guy came up to me and asked me if I farted and I said, "Yes, and tell Patrick I said you're welcome." Whatever that means I don't know but I dreamed, I had a dream about disgusting farts that you remember. Crazy. Thanks Duncan. This guy's a good man and I thank him again for the hospitality he showed me.
Here's where I did the show:
It occurred to me, yesterday(day 4) that there's a vast difference from being on vacation and working. I'm in Florida to work. I've been here on vacation, so I know the difference. Vacation is fun because you forget about the work, you put it away. That part of the brain is dark, the lights are off, there's nobody home. It feels good and you're at ease. Working, is different. Calls have to be done, goals have to be accomplished and bottom line, money and or important connections have to be made. It's a stress and a bit of a bummer because I'M IN FLORIDA.
It's the routine that counts. Doing the same routine that I do back home is key. It put me into a good place and I feel good this morning. I feel like my old self again. Two things make me feel at home: tennis and comedy. I did both of them yesterday. The tennis was less than stellar but it felt great to be outside amongst the palm trees and hit tennis balls. I do love palm trees.
The comedy portion of last evening was a lot of fun as well. A friend of mine from Boston, who lives here now, introduced me to a local fellow/comedian who kind of acted as my informal guide for the evening. He's a very gregarious and energetic chap who shares the same passion for barbecue as I do. He recommended a place right down the street from where the gig was called, "Slow and Low". Perfect name for a barbecue joint. We met there before the show. Long story short, the ribs were spectacular, just like he said they'd be. We shared many laughs and I'm happy to say I met a new friend here in Florida. Typical guy bonding conversation, it was cool.
The only problem of the night was after I ate. You see, being on the road, your eating routine changes, and for some reason, maybe it was the hot barbecue sauce I smeared all over my juicy succulent baby back ribs, I had to run to the bathroom. It was horrific but I want to make perfectly clear that it didn't diminish the meal whatsoever. It was just having normal good food that did the trick. I thought that was the end of it but little did I know.
As my new friend and I were walking into the establishment where the comedy show was, I innocently squeezed out a slight fart. But, it wasn't quite a fart. In which I exclaimed, "I think I just shit myself!" To which my new friend replied, "Go check it out, dude." Then proceeded to laugh and laugh and laugh. To his credit, he did check on me when I was on the "thrown". I said, "I dodged a bullet, it was just a wet fart." He laughed and almost shit himself. Was it an omen for the comedy show?
Quite. I had a great set, other than a bit of a lull when I did the newer personal material that needs work, but I was pleased nonetheless. My buddy went up and did a guesty and ripped it as well. We celebrated our triumph by having a beer and watching the headliner, a Mr. John Ferrentino, who mixes magic and comedy and is quite good at it.
Well, what happened next was insane. My new friend farted. He owned up to it, which I respect. But, this "thing" was so bad it was good. Good in the sense that it did its job as being gross. You guys know what I'm talking about, right? It's one of those stinkers that 50 years from now I could run into this guy and say, "Remember that fart?" And he'd know exactly what I was talking about. This fart definitely had that, "do you remember where you were" characteristics reminiscent of past horrific events in world history. Oh, this guy's name is Duncan. I won't give his last name but it starts with the letter "J". Duncan J. @funduncan.
One more thing, this fart influenced me. Seriously. I, and this is no lie, had a dream last night that I was at a bar. A dude cut a tremendous fart and people scattered. The next group of people I was talking to, someone did the same and we scattered again. Then, a guy came up to me and asked me if I farted and I said, "Yes, and tell Patrick I said you're welcome." Whatever that means I don't know but I dreamed, I had a dream about disgusting farts that you remember. Crazy. Thanks Duncan. This guy's a good man and I thank him again for the hospitality he showed me.
Here's where I did the show:
Posted by Tony Moschetto at 1/14/2012 11:30 AM 
Categories: The Daily Paragraph, The Great Florida Trip of 2012
Categories: The Daily Paragraph, The Great Florida Trip of 2012
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