This is a true story.

He needed me to be an on camera comic host for a Bat Mitzvah he was shooting.  ”You’ll be perfect” Ben said.  ”I don’t have a lot to pay you, but you won’t want to miss this event.  It’s going to be epic”

He was right.  This Bat Mitzvah was for the daughter of a very wealthy business man here in town.  You’d know who he was if I told you, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the budget for this party was over $200,000.

The kids arrived on tour busses.  There were huge spot lights waving around in the sky out front. Inside there was a stage with 2 deejays, big video screens, and lots of robotic lights and lasers.   There were professional dancers and a host from MTV.  A Beatles cover band even made an appearance before the night ended.

Oh, and it was a black-tie event.  I’m pretty sure that means you have to wear a tux, but I find this to be a confusing description.  I feel like it should be called a “black everything but your shirt” event.  None-the-less, I showed up in a t-shirt.

“It’s okay” Ben said as he handed me my microphone and my costume.

“I have to wear a costume?” I thought to myself.  It was a big purple suit.  Don’t think “Barney.”  Think “Sinbad.”

Whatever.  I was  there to help Ben, and I was positive there wouldn’t be anyone there that I know.

“Hey! Are you Tripp?”  A woman said to me as soon as I walked through the front entrance.

“No…  I’m Tyler.”

“I love your videos! You guys are so funny!” she said.  I know what she was really thinking, “So this is what he does for an actual job.”

I was embarassed, but I sucked it up and went on my way.

The first hour of the night went surprisingly well.  I felt good about my interviews, and people played along well with my antics.  Then something weird happened.

A woman in her 40’s started walking towards me from across the room.  She was moving at a brisk pace, and her eyes were locked in on mine.  I felt like I was about to get in trouble for something.  These are the exact words she said to me:

“That guy over there is a doctor.  I am a psychotherapist.  And, you are acting like a narcotics addict.  Are you on heroine?”

“Me?” I asked.

“Yes.  Are you okay?  You are acting like you are high.”

“No ma’am.  The way I’m acting during my interviews is part of my act. I’m a comedian”

She looked at me straight faced as if she was thinking, “A comedian…. yes.  I’ve heard of those”

“Are you okay?” She asked again.

I did everything anyone wearing a purple suit could do to convince her that I wasn’t on drugs and that is was my job to act like I wasn’t listening when I asked people questions.

Now, my night was ruined, because I knew fifteen minutes wouldn’t go by before everyone in that place was instructing their kids to stay away from the high guy with the microphone.

“Are we done?” I asked Ben.

“Almost.” He answered. “I just need you to change.”

I was about to thank God.

“Into this” he continued.  Ben was holding up white pleather Evil Knievel suit with an attached cape.

“Haha. Very funny!” I said.

“No, I really want you to put this on and do a few more interviews”

I slumped my shoulders, went to the bathroom, and changed.  Not only was this an Evil Knievel suit, but it was three sizes too small.  You could see at least an inch of shin hair between the white bell-bottom and my black sock.  And, the seam between my crotch and my shoulders needed about a foot more of material.  I had choice.  I could either be Evil Knievel, the hunchback or stand up straight and be Evil Knievel, the sausage smuggler.

I was hoping this would be the most humble point of my career in comedy as I walked through the sea of people looking for Ben.  I wondered what everyone in their cocktail dresses and tux’s were thinking as a too-tall Evil Knievel was weaving his way through a tightly packed group of 12 year olds.  If the guys who drive ice-cream trucks really are good people, then I know what they feel like.

After an eight minute search, I found Ben.  These were his exact words:

“Oh yeah man, we’re going to do something else.  I don’t need you to wear that anymore.”

I didn’t know if I was mad or relieved.

“I need you to put on this bunny suit.”

I knew by now that he wasn’t kidding and since I was being paid as his employee I had to do it.  But there’s no way I was going all the way back to the bathroom.  Narcotic Nancy is for sure convinced by now that I’m also a child molester.

So I changed back stage. It was a complete bunny suit with feet, a tail, a huge head with ears, and eye holes that were at least eight inches apart. I could hear through them better than I could see through them.  In order to walk I had to look to the side, memorize three or four steps, and then move.

Whatever.  I knew this night couldn’t get any worse.  Right?

As soon as I walked out from behind the curtain, I felt someone grab my arm.  It was the MTV guy, and he started yelling into my eye hole.   “Can you do the Cupid Shuffle?”

“No. I can’t even walk in this” I yelled back.

He must not have heard me, because he  pulled me with him up three stairs onto the stage.  I was surrounded by professional dancers, and there were hundreds of people watching me.   I really had no idea what was going on, so I started doing something that loosely represented the Macarena.  At least this time no one could see who I was.  I thought, “Maybe if I just close my eyes and daydream about being back home in my bed it will all be over before I know it.”

Then something happened that I can’t explain.

I don’t even know how to say it, except to say that a group of kids bum rushed the stage and beat the living hell out of me.  There was one on my back.  Another grabbed my wooden cane and starting taking swings at my shoulders.  Someone else was boxing me between the legs.  All I could do was crumble to the ground.

This was my career low.  I was on stage in front of the who’s-who of Atlanta dressed as a rabbit getting brutally assaulted by a bunch of pre teens.  Could it get any worse?

Yes I could.  And it almost did.  Two young boys began to pull at my ears in hopes of ripping off my fake head.  I’m not kidding when I say this.  I would have rather gone home with three broken ribs than be identified on that stage.  So, I stopped blocking all the punches and held on to my rabbit face with every ounce of strength I had left.   They pulled me all the way across the stage before I was rescued by an adult – an adult that could have done something five minutes earlier.  I guess I would have watched too.

I made my way back stage again, and I could feel myself trampling over cables and boxes.  But I didn’t care.  I wanted out of that suit, and I wanted my mommy.  I scrambled around as fast I could to find my real clothes, and just as found them….

Pshzzzeeeeuuuwwwwwwww…..

Everything went black.  And quiet.

I knew exactly what happened, because I felt it under my giant furry foot.  I had stepped on a cable that was attached to something important.  The entire event was now without power.  No music.  No moving lights. No Deejays.  No party.  Now I’m really in trouble.

I quickly changed back into my clothes, and I could hear AV guys shouting cuss words in every direction.  One of them found me behind the curtain.

“Did you unplug something?” He asked in a very concerned tone.

I lied, and then I ran.

By the time I made it around to the back of the room the lights came back on.  I was laughing as I thought about the whole event.  At least I’m back in my t-shirt, and no one knew that was me in the bunny suit.

I felt a tap on my shoulder.  It was the lady who recognized me earlier.

“Great job in the bunny suit!” She said.

I can zap the P-RAM on my Mac, but I still can’t find the start button on a gas pump without first pressing a few stickers.

Then, somehow I always get the pump handle with the broken lock latch thing.  So, I have to squeeze.  The entire time.   I watch the car next to me fill with gas while it’s driver is inside picking out his favorite slushy.  I’m thinking, “I know I”m supposed to use 89, but that green handle looks like it works. What is deisel?”

Now, I’m no dummy.  I know that when the attendant inside sees me manually squeezing my pump handle he immediately rotates the gas flow dial to extra slow.  Does he realize how bad I have to pee?

15 minutes later, I’m having to squeeze two things, but the tank is full at $59.98  I give the pump handle one more quick burst so that I can pay an even 60.01.

My hand is now aching and convulsing. which complicates things inside the bathroom.  I now understand where all the wall splatter comes from.  It’s from all the other guys who used pump 5 and then this urinal.

I rarely get interesting graffiti to read either.  I usually end up standing directly in front of the wall “item” dispenser.    You know the one.   There are 6 different products that you can buy for 75 cents.

The first three are exactly what you are thinking – each one a different color of course.  I find this confusing.  Why should the color matter?  I’m pretty sure when these devices are being used properly they are somewhere you can’t see them.

The other three slots squirt out cologne when you pay.  Cologne that smells just like Polo Sport, Abercrombie Woods, or Old Spice.  Who would know?  Nothing that comes out of that machine can smell any better than the best cologne in the world mixed with whatever is lingering inside of that bathroom.

These machines are obviously for two kinds of people:  Guys who are suddenly inspired to impress a woman, and guys who are already confident about it.   I’m neither, because I have a new problem to solve.

How do I wash my hands and get out of the bathroom without touching something on the door that a non-handwasher touched?

And why do I wash my hands anyway?  Aren’t hands proven to be the most bacteria infested part of the body?  I can only imagine the cleanest part of my body is whatever part spends most of its time covered up.  If so, then it’s not my hands that are getting dirtier when I use the bathroom.  Seems like I should be washing something else.  Or maybe that is what that one lower sink has been for all this time.

The Bible is very clear about lust being sinful.

What is lust?

It’s an uncontrolled sexual appetite towards another woman.

What other woman?

A woman other than your wife.

I’m not married.

Then all women count.

So I’m not allowed to think about sex?

Sex isn’t wrong to think about. Just don’t long after a woman who isn’t yours.

So I can think about boobs as long as they don’t belong to someone specific?

Hmmmm….

What if I think about a generic naked women to masturbate?

How would you do that?

I don’t know.  I guess I could use a Worldbook Encyclopedia as porn.

I’d say you’re looking for an excuse to masturbate.

So masturbation is wrong?

According to [list of well known teachers] it is unhealthy.

According to [list of well known teachers] it’s healthy.

Has it helped you in any way feel closer to God?

No.  At times I even feel guilty about it.

So then why do you feel guilty?

Because I’ve been taught that it’s wrong.

And you do it anyway?

Sometimes.  I mean, no.  Yes. I have before…  Who hasn’t?

I knew a guy once who never had.

Did he have arms?

Yes.

Congratulate him for me.

Now you’re being sarcastic.

And you appropriate attitude makes you seem automatically right. Not fair.

I didn’t say I was right about anything.

But you think masturbation is wrong

I don’t see how it’s helpful towards intimacy with God or your wife.

I’ve never met anyone who claims that masturbation has damaged their marriage.

Neither have I.  But I bet someone reading this has.

Sounds very theoretical to me.

It’s theoretical, because I’m not married nor have I surveyed a large number of couples.

So what’s worse: The debated and theoretical negative effects of masturbation or the immense guilt that comes from believing it’s wrong and doing it anyway?

I don’t know.  Is there a way to avoid both?

I could not masturbate.

And why is that a bad option?

Because suppressing something that I’m not supposed to suppress scares me.

You should care about widows and orphans.  Do you ever suppress that?

You are good.

No, it’s just easy to debate with someone sharing the same brain.

So if we have the same brain, then we also have the same….

Okay! you got me.  I do it too.

Want to be accountability partners?

1 Jeff Foxworthy -  He’s the best selling comic of all time (outselling Cosby and Pryor combined).  We all know him as the master of redneck jokes, but he’s also mastered the art of making all people laugh between the ages of 8 and 80.

I could go all day about his delivery and his writing, but you should know that the most inspiring thing about Jeff is the way he chooses to live his life.  I’m extremely humbled to be able to call Jeff a friend, and I can tell you first hand that he is one of the most humble, generous, God-fearing, risk-taking, mold-breaking, men I know.  I’d take his lifestyle over his fame any day.  (having both would be my real first choice)

2 Jim Carey – Don’t act like you can’t quote “Dumb and Dumber” from start to finish.  Also, don’t do it.  No one is impressed anymore.

Maybe you’re tired of Jim’s silly faces,  so check out some of his more serious flicks like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. If you aren’t impressed, then we aren’t friends.  Gosh, there’s few things that I love more than getting a glimpse into the deeper, darker  parts of silly people.  Will, we are still waiting on you buddy.

3 Chevy Chase - He took the likable, slightly dumb, underdog character to places inspector gadget could only dream of.  Clark Griswald and Fletch are seriously my model roles.  As an actor, I want nothing more than to perfect these characters.

Don’t forget about Chevy’s success on SNL and of course his appearance in that one Paul Simon video.  Do forget his attempt at a late night talk show.

4 The Lonely Island – If you’ve seen any of the SNL digital shorts (**ck in a box, lonely sunday, lazer cats…) then you know these guys.  I can’t get enough of their perfectly executed video sketches, but it’s their story that most inspires me.  Three young sketch comedy nobodies get discovered and almost immediately they’re hired by the most influential sketch comedy show of all time.  Hey SNL!!  Hum dee dum.  TrippandTyler.com! Oh nothing.  nevermind.

5 Mitch Hedberg – One line jokes that don’t work if anyone else tries them.  Mitch why did you leave us?  Or are you really still alive and disguised as Demetri Martin?

6 David Crosby Jr. – Haven’t heard of him?  Well, he’s my dad and arguably the most undiscovered comic of all time.  Vouch for me friends. (seriously – in my comments section)  Dad, why the insurance business?  You could have made millions in the entertainment biz and been a distant father.  I’m not saying my dad doesn’t make millions.  Okay, he doesn’t.  He’s also never served in the military.

7 Bill Cosby – I felt like I needed to include a black person in my list.  JK, but remember how funny he was in Picture Pages?  And, if you haven’t seen at least 14 episodes of the Cosby Show, I will fight you along with  Theo’s brother (who sold me a car a month ago).  I also highly recommend some of Bill’s early standup.  It’s brilliant, and now I’m thinking Bill should have been higher on my list.

8 Christopher Guest – I’m not sure if he invented it, but he most certainly introduced us to the mockumentary. Go watch Best in Show and Waiting for Guffman,.  Already seen them?  Go watch them again.  And again.  And again until your comedy tastebuds become completely dependent on high doses of satire.

9 God – Brought us all the essential ingredients for comedy – gravity, testicles, farts, and this goat.

10 David Robertson – It’s time for  you to notice David’s Zingers in my side column.  David is one of only a few people alive that can generate completely origional thoughts.  He’s been referred to as “the new Jack Handy” but I still think of him as the guy who tolerates my stuff lying around our apartment.  He barely made the list, but I can honestly say he is the guy who makes me laugh the hardest.  Oh, and the iBible was his idea.

HUGGING

1. Go for the mid-height hi-five with your right hand, but lean in a little with your shoulder so he knows what is coming.

2. Don’t let go, and pull.  (Your right hands now serve as a buffer eliminating the possibility of a full-torso touch.)

3. With your left hand, reach around behind his back and tap 3 times. This is code for “I’m not gay”

BONUS MOVE:  Lean way back during the  final release of your initial  hi-five, and pull as hard as you can with just your fingers.  A snapping sound will occur.  Sweet!

KIND WORDS

This one is easy.  Just speak from your heart, and then add the word “man” or “dude”.

I.E.:  “I love you man!” or “dude this has been fun” or “I appreciate your advice man”

SPANKING

This is a very delicate move, and it must occur with absolute precision.

1.  First of all, the male-to-male spank can ONLY take place when both parties are dressed for AND  participating in a team sport .  Never attempt when bowling, golfing, fishing, or repairing an engine.

2. ALWAYS spank in public.

3. DO NOT make eye-contact.  In fact, it’s better if something else already has your attention before your hand even makes contact.

4. ONLY spank in a moment of praise.  NEVER spank as a means of discipline.

5. ONLY SPANK ONCE!!  I cannot overemphasize this.

OKAY:   “Nice Block Jim!” [spank] “Let’s go Steve!”

NEVER OKAY:  “You can’t do that Mike. That’s cheating!” [spank] “Cheating is naughty!”  [spank]

HOLDING HANDS

This is only okay when praying in a group, playing Red-Rover, or when saving your friend from falling off of a cliff.

TICKLING

This is never okay.

NOTE: I do apologize if you’ve read this before.  I reposted for some expected new visitors today, and I wanted to make a good impression.  Thanks for understanding.

AJ: Sir, the limit for you bag is 50 pounds.

ME: Yeah, I know.  I’ve thought this through.

MY BRAIN:  I can’t believe I was able to pack everything in one bag.  I have such an incredible sense of space.   I am the man!

AJ: That will be $90 sir.

ME: 90 Dollars?  For an extra 15 pounds?

AJ: 50 pounds is the limit.

MY BRAIN: 90 divided by 15 is 6….  that’s $6 per extra pound.  I’m pretty fast at math. I am the man!

ME: So what if I had just brought a second bag?

AJ: Um, lets see… [typing stuff] 2 bags is 25 dollars.

ME: So, I can bring two bags totaling 100 lbs. for $25 or one bag that weighs 65 lbs. and pay $90?

AJ: That’s our policy.

MY BRAIN:  That’s all the math I’m willing to do to make my point, from now on I’m using a rigid tone.  I am the man!

ME: (in a slightly firm tone) What is the explanation for this?

AJ: The weight of your bags costs us in fuel.

ME: hmmmm….

MY BRAIN:  Poor guy.  He can’t add as good as me.  Now I don’t know what to say.  Think of something Tripp.  Stop feeling sorry for him.  Be the man!

AJ: There’s a shop down there where you can buy a bag for $20.

MY BRAIN:  That’s $20 for a new bag plus… wait.  I’m sticking to my no math commitment here.

AJ: You’ll save $45 dollars, and you have plenty of time.

MY BRAIN:  He has a point here, but his addition is probably off.

ME: Can I leave this one bag here while I do that?

AJ: No, you can’t leave your bags here.

MY BRAIN:  Do I want to lug all this to the other side of the terminal, buy a bag that will break before I get back home, unpack my suitcase right here in front of everyone potentially revealing that I have three speedos inside, not to mention I’d have to undo my packing craftsmanship from before and leave my items with room to rattle around all day so I’ll have to spend who knows how much time at the hotel ironing shirts, and washing toothpaste off of my socks?  Is that worth 45 dollars?

ME: I’ll just pay the 90 dollars.

AJ’s BRAIN:  I am the man!

Fortunately, I enjoy “embarrassing”, and that’s why I invented a gome called “10 seconds of zany“  I could explain it or I could just show you.  I played just the other day with Tyler, Aaron, and Blake.

I’m willing to share this clip only because the satisfaction I get from embarrassing my friends is well worth the few seconds I have to feel embarrassed.  (and that’s pretty much the point of the gome)

Enjoy.