Dreams

Dreams                      6166  (2226)

Wednesday, November 29, 2006-8:20 A.M.

You wanna be a comic?  I'm pretty sure that the life I lead would kill you dead.

It's feast or famine in this business.  One minute, you're living high on the hog, flush with comedy money, and the next, you're rolling pennies for gas money.  I'm not proud.  Right now, I owe my daughter Preschool Harmony (that's what she calls herself), a two-and-a-half year old girl, about $200 that I took from her piggy bank.  Where does a toddler get that kind of money?  From Daddy, who put all his money in there in the first place because Mommy told him to.

I got spoiled on Thanksgiving week.  I worked at home with my good friends Sky Sands and Mike Glosek, filling that cushy middle slot and selling some good product.  Thursday was a day off for Thanksgiving and remembrance, and a nice restaurant cooked meal-the compromise when your wife and daughter don't eat meat, and you still want a slice or two of roast turkey.

The shows were good and I spent the week trying to be the buffer between Mike (a rather "salty" act) in the mc spot and Sky (who prefers to work clean) headlining.  The late shows were young kids and there isn't much you can do except demand their attention and be rude as possible, or else they float away like you're an internet page that's taking too long to load.

A single day off to hit the bank, do laundry and run errands, and I'm looking down the barrel of another 12-hour drive....didn't I just do this?  I'm scheduled to play Lake Norman, North Carolina on Tuesday night.  Lake Norman's just outside of Charlotte, which is where I was the week before last.  I'll be driving through the town of Summersville, West Virginia, proud recipient of $155 of my speeding ticket money.  I hope they choke on their biscuits, those bastards.

So I get everything ready for a death drive on Tuesday, a 4 A.M. wakeup call and I go to bed around 10 PM, only to be awoken by my daughter at 11:30 (Daddy!  Wake up, Daddy!) and don't really get back to sleep until 2 A.M.  I reset my clock for 5 A.M., and drift off to sleep.

Only I don't sleep the whole time....I wake up 20 minutes before the alarm, and figure I'll get a jump on the day, even though I'm 40 minutes behind the 8-ball.  I still have it planned that I'll get to the gig a couple of hours early, and maybe I'll take a nap.

So I shower, dress, and finish packing.  I kiss my wife and daughter and load the car, hop in and start the ignition, only I'm greeted with dead battery.  I didn't drive the car the whole week I was home, and the battery went dead from non-use, I guess.  Luckily, my mother-in-law parks on the street, and I have a key for her vehicle, so I spring into action, pulling the car into the driveway and executing a jump start.  Now I'm ready to go.

Only my oil light is on.  My car leaks oil when I take it on long trips (which is all the time), so now it's dry.  I use synthetic oil, so you're never really "out" of oil, but who wants to take chances?  I drive to Jiffy Lube, as it's 6:30 and all of the auto parts stores that are only blocks from my house are closed.  Jiffy Lube also is closed until 8:00 A.M., and I can't wait that long.  So I head to Wal-Mart, up the road.

Wal-Mart's open, but it's not 24 hours open, so it's open for employees to come in.  I'm not an employee, and they know it, and I have to stand on the carpet for 10 minutes until they "officially" open at 7 A.M.  So I stand there and wait until I'm released, and head to the automotive section.  Three quarts of Quaker State Full Synthetic, and I'm ready to go, only now I have another problem....my hood won't latch.  I can get it to close and click to the thumb latch, but it won't click all the way down.  Time is melting away, and my blood pressure is rising like corn futures in the Spring.

I head further down the road (I'm so far west I'm almost in Buffalo by now) to Vanderstyne Toyota, my regular mechanics who work on the car.  They're closed tighter than a drum.  So now I'm completely at a loss.  I can't drive more than 40 miles an hour with any reassurance that my car hood won't go flying up into my face, and at 40 miles an hour, I might as well be driving to Mars, there's no way I'm gonna make an 8 P.M. show.

I head towards home and drive past Ralph Pontiac Honda, and notice their service department is open, and they have no customers.  Hoping against hope, I make a U-turn and pull in.

I explain my situation and as I have neither a Pontiac nor a Honda, I'm a little embarassed asking for help, but figure the service shouldn't be more than I can afford.  I left most of my money home with Pam to pay bills, but figured if the repair was ridiculous, I could go home and get the money.  Steve Pecora, the service man on duty at Ralph, was familiar with the Corolla because his wife has the same car.  He got under the hood and after messing around with screwdrivers and some WD-40, found the part that was failing to release and got it to work.  I sheepishly asked what the charge would be, and he told me "no charge today."  I want to point out that that kind of generosity is not often found in the automotive repair business, and this guy is getting a nice fruit basket from me this Christmas.  I don't begrudge Vanderstyne for not being open at such an early hour, but they were happy to take my $700 for auto emissions equipment last month, and it feels funny that they weren't there when I needed them.  Also, they popped the hood to put that equipment in, didn't they notice that the hood wasn't closing properly?  This isn't a new problem, you think they would've fixed it, or at least mentioned it to me.  My faith is definitely being tested here.

So now it's 20 minutes before 8, and I'm really cutting it close.  To make a long story short, I motor the 728 miles to Lake Norman, arriving just before 7 P.M.  if you're keeping track, that's 11 hours and 20 minutes later.  I averaged 64.4 miles per hour the whole trip, and that includes when I was standing there pumping gas (three stops for that), in line at the drive-thru getting something to eat (twice) and stopped for rush hour traffic/construction/accident slowdowns (one each).  In other words, I was speeding most of the way.  I'm not proud, again, but drastic times call for drastic measures.

I got to the hotel, and instead of that nap I'd been craving, I got a nice hot shower and got my ass to the gig.  And that wasn't even easy because the decrepit desk clerk sent me in completely the wrong direction.  I had to call the club three times to get reoriented, and made it with ten minutes to spare.  I never understand how people who are FROM a community can be so dismally poor at directing strangers to destinations in or around that community.

The show was absolutely the best show I could put on, despite the fact that even after a nice hot shower, I was hallucinating.  My redneck audience (oh BOY were they redneck, not that that's a bad thing) were easy to read, but I insisted on testing them with material you had to think about (bad judgement brought on by the hallucinations).  I wasn't unhappy with the show as a whole, and headliner James Sibley went up and did his "aw shucks" hillbilly humor and they ate him up with a spoon.  He was fun to watch, even though I almost fell asleep in my chair twice from exhaustion.

Today, it's off to Goldsboro, North Carolina, stop number 2 on my 6-day whirlwind tour of the "First In Flight" state, and today it's my sister Nickki's birthday, so if you see her, wish her a happy one.  Right now, I'm going back to bed for an hour and let the images in my head melt through my eyes.  And by the way, when I talk about hallucinations, I'm not just waxing metaphorically, I actually see small moving objects just outside of my peripheral vision, like small bugs or animals flying past.  It's very distracting when I'm driving, and I've hit the brakes more than once to avoid something that wasn't there.  Just thought you should know.

Pleasant dreams.

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

Radio Song

Radio Song                       6112  (2172)

Tuesday, November 21, 2006-1:30 P.M.

O.k., so Michael Richards is apparently doing my act in Los Angeles...how exactly does a small-time nobody like me with no financial resources get him to cease and desist?

I'm home after my wonderful weekend in Belmont, North Carolina.  The Comedy Zone there in Starz Restaurant in a neat little room, 60 seats, maybe, and one of the nicest staffs you'll ever meet.  I checked in Thursday to the Holiday Inn, which is a short ten-minute drive away, closer to the heart of downtown Charlotte.

I was working with headliner Robert York of Tulsa, Oklahoma.  Robert's a variety act, he juggles, balances a cowboy hat on his nose, and cracks an 11-foot bullwhip over the heads of the audience.  If that doesn't sober ya up, I don't know what will.  Robert's good people, and I've known him for several years, so we had a good time working together.  The room was rated PG-13, but I found that you can get away with a lot as long as it's funny and not disgusting.  I gots plenty of that funny stuff, and I try to walk around the sticky parts whenever possible, if you get my drift.

Friday's early show was fun, we had some latecomers arrive during my set, and I had to address them, because it's such a small room that it's perfectly obvious that four people are coming in and seating themselves near the stage.  I did a lot of impromptu stuff and was able to direct a lot of set material towards their table, and we had great fun.  It reinforced the illusion that I was making all this great comedy up as I went along, the illusion that most comedians strive for.

Unfortunately, the late show was canceled for lack of patronage.  We probably could have done the show for the five people that showed up, but the club opted out.

Saturday, Robert and I decided to take the restaurant up on their employee discount and had lunch together, and we wound up talking about art, culture, the fine art of finding treasures in thrift stores, and a few hours' worth of like-minded conversation.  It was definitely a welcome change of pace.  I caught the tail end of the Ohio State/Michigan game, and headed to the club.

Saturday's shows were excellent, well-attended and fun, but I had a dark cloud hovering over me in the form of conflicting weather reports as to what I'd be driving home in....some called for snow, some called for just rain showers, but either way, I wasn't pleased.  I had 11 hours and 45 minutes in front of me, and snow can definitely make the driving treacherous and slow.

After getting paid and settling up for my food tab for the weekend (they graciously let the hotel tab go....hooray!), I headed back to the hotel, packed up, and started my way northward.  I don't exactly know how I made it as far as I did, but somewhere around 5 o'clock in the morning, one of West Virginia's finest clocked me at 75 mph in a 55...that's gonna hurt...it's my second West Virginia speeding ticket of the year, and their modus operandi seems to be that they park themselves at the bottom of a hill (and mountainous West Virginia's got plenty of them) and as you coast downhill, you almost always wind up heading toward a town, and the speed limit comes down from 70 to a 55, and you get nabbed.  I haven't called yet, but that's probably gonna be in the $160 range.  Shit.

I stopped driving around 7 A.M. when my ability to read road signs had left me.  I saw signs but couldn't put the letters together into words, so I pulled off at an exit that didn't have anything but an RV dealership.  I pulled into their driveway, which was closed by a big swinging metal gate, and put my seat back, put my sweater hood over my eyes and began to doze.  Around 9 A.M., someone came to open the dealership, and I must have noticed that someone was in the area, because my eyes flicked open and I craned my head up to see a man walking toward the gate....I must be part whitetail deer or something.

I put my seat back up, put the car into drive and headed north again.  I wound up arriving home around 3:30 in the afternoon, prodded on the last few hours by getting to listen to my beloved Buffalo Bills beating the Houston Texans on the radio.  A little snow fell, but nothing on the level of what I was expecting.  I probably could have stayed at the hotel and slept in, and gotten home safely a few hours later and without the speeding ticket, but what's done is done and I can't change that.  I somehow think that God has been telling me the last few months that I'm just not meant to have any money.  I know I have a tendency to mismanage it, paying bills and buying food for my baby and stuff like that....I'm going to have to learn to tighten my belt.

This week is a homestand at the Comix Cafe in Rochester with my buddy Sky Sands.  I've known Sky for a long time, too, and it should be fun working with him again...we haven't really shared a stage together since a year ago this summer, and Wednesday night, the night before Thanksgiving, is one of the busiest club nights of the year, so I'm really looking forward to it.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving, watch the roads, and save me a drumstick!

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

Too Much Time On My Hands

Too Much Time On My Hands                                  6085  (2145)

Friday, November 17, 2006-3:15 A.M.

Good morning my red-eyed speedfreaks.  If you are up at this hour, you are either a night-shifter, a milkman getting the jump on his day, a fisherman, or you're hopped up on the jobabba juice.  Regardless, good morning, amen, and good morning.

I'm chilling out in the Hee-to-the-Eye, Holiday Inn, in Charlotte, North Carolina.  I started out my little jaunt by heading out to Huron, Ohio, gateway to Sandusky, and a show at a club called i5's, which is an abbreviation for "It's 5 o'clock Somewhere."  Well, showtime was at 8, but it might as well have been at 5, because we only had about 20 people.  They were nice enough, but how do you rock 20 people?  If I was a drummer and I threw my sticks into this crowd, they would have hit the floor.  I worked with a comic who shall remain nameless who I caught pilfering a line or two from a big-name comic's HBO special....not a classy move, even in front of 20 people.  He's a guy I've worked with before so we had a nice chit-chat, but nothing beyond that.  It's a shame because his own stuff is plenty funny....I guess headlining is a different sport for some.

Wednesday, it was on to Kelsey's in Bluefield, West Virginia, and a reunion with my pal R. Bruce from Fredericksburg, Virginia.  Bruce and I have been friends for almost 13 years now, and he's one of those guys that I'll see once a year, and we just pick up right where we left off.  We did our show for about 50 West Virginia hillbillies, and from past experience, I knew I really had to just pound it out to them....you take a pause, and they'll start a conversation or heckle or do some other stupid thing to stop the show.  Bruce did his thing and showed off for me a little, playing some of his new songs (he's a guitar guy) that he knew I hadn't heard.  I contributed a line to one of his songs, and he goes out of his way to mention it from the stage everytime we work together.  It's nice if not totally necessary, but he's a gentleman and that's how gentlemen conduct themselves.

We hung out after the show, showing off pictures of children (my kid, his grandkids) and talking business. I was bummed to be spending my 40th birthday away from home, but it was nice to at least be with a friend for it.  I didn't have cake, but there were pop tarts in the vending machine, and I had a brown sugar cinnamon one...yummy!

While I was driving to Bluefield, I worked the phones, not for comedy work but to figure out where I was gonna stay on Thursday, my day off.  I called the Holiday Inn, but they were interested in charging me $129 for one night, and I was interested in them kissing my black ass.  The Comedy Zone (where I'll be playing on Friday and Saturday) is getting a drastically reduced rate, and I talked the club into extending my reservation to Thursday, which got the aforementioned rate (I'll spill it....it was $45....much better than $129, eh?).  Katie, the big kahuna over at Starz, graciously did the legwork making the reservation and paid for the room in advance, and they'll take the difference out of my check for the week.  It's nice being able to spend the whole week in one place, and with a Holiday Inn, you can't hardly go wrong....wireless internet, restaurant on the premises, no bars on the windows, you know, the good stuff.

I took a nice nap which turned out to last until almost 10:00, and I hadn't had dinner, so I headed out to find some chow, and I ran into hypnotist Rich Guzzi in the lobby....Rich started out as a standup comic back when I ran the room in Rochester, and he remembered me....we had a nice chat, and might have lunch together tomorrow or the next day.  He's playing at the Comedy Zone's main room in Charlotte this week (they have three, plus a one-nighter in Lake Norman just north of here, that I'm actually doing in two weeks).  I'm working with Robert York this weekend, so it's gonna be like a comedy frat house up in this hotel because the comics from the Matthews, NC room will be staying here, too.  I'm wondering if my old buddy T.L. Johnson will be in town....he lives here, and I've known him for several years from his time in Rochester.

I really need some sleep....I tried to buy a soda from the vending machine right outside my door, and the Diet Pepsi was sold out, relegating me to purchase Diet Mountain Dew.  I've had three of them tonight, and I'm so jacked from the caffeine that I'm ready to challenge a bunch of guys in a meth lab to a staring contest.

More foolishness about the shows later this weekend.  Have a happy!

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

A Pirate Looks At 40

A Pirate Looks At 40                  6065  (2125)

Tuesday, November 14, 2006-12:50 A.M.

I got my car back today; it was a good feeling and horrible at the same time....$710 after tax for emissions work on the engine.  It felt good to drive, though, like it was getting more air or something, just responding to the gas pedal and moving without hesitation.

We bought a Christmas tree for Harmony today....a small one, but an artificial one with colored lights, it's about 4 feet tall, so for Harmony, it's just right.  This is the first year that she really knows about Christmas, I think, so it felt good and right to pick it up today and set it up and watch her wonderful, beautiful brown eyes soak up the wonderment of it all.  I get maudlin, joyous, overly romantic and sullen this time of year, it's a time when I feel close to God and I lay all of my hopes and dreams at his feet and ask forgiveness for my vanity, sloth, and a host of other sins.  Buying Harmony a tree definitely makes me feel more hopeful and positive; she doesn't know about car repair bills and canceled comedy shows (and I hope she never will).

So the big news is that I turn 40 on Wednesday...the first of the three Tetta kids to cross that black line.  Nickki's happily married (after an early misfire) and working a good job in North Carolina, Chris just got a promotion at the radio station he's working at, and he'll get to work a more steady schedule so that he can enjoy time with his wife and two children.  I'm getting into a car tomorrow morning and leaving and won't return until late next Sunday night, the eve of my 6th wedding anniversary.  I've been a little wound up about this turning 40 business, and what it all means.  I read an article in a men's fitness magazine (several years ago) that described 40 as the perfect time in a man's life; knowledge and experience coupled with the physical energy to make the best use of them.  I don't know if that's true, I don't feel very energetic, much less knowledgeable or experienced.

My good friend Kevin Naughton told me, "You'll be 50 someday and wishing you were 40, so enjoy it."  That seemed kind of simple to me, but correct if not inspiring.

I have to admit that I don't know what life is.  All I know is what life isn't.

Life isn't about the foolish pursuit of wealth and material things.  High ticket electronics make you dependent on them, and then they break down.  Clothing wears and frays, and low ticket items that you think will make you happy wind up on a table at your garage sale, sold cheaply and without hesitation.

Life isn't about worrying.  Nature corrects itself, and your worry neither adds to nor subtracts from the process.  The Bible says this well, that worry will not turn one white hair on your head back to black.  It's true.

Life isn't about anger or grudges.  Most of the time, the person you are angry with or have a grudge against doesn't even know it.  So you waste your time and increase your blood pressure over someone who doesn't even know you have a problem with them.

Life isn't about waking up to alarm clocks or drinking coffee to "get going."  If you have to wake up this way, you aren't done sleeping and you're just wearing your body out and forcing your mind to operate before it's ready.  Not smart at all.

I guess I do know what life is about, maybe just a little.....life is about reconcilliation, mending fences and helping people.  Life is about listening more than talking, giving more than you expect to return, teaching what you know and learning what you can.  Gayle Sayre's book "I Am Third," which was made into the TV movie "Brian's Song" comes from a quotation of his, "God is first, my family is second and I am third."  I can't argue with that.

40 is coming and it's not a death sentence, but it is a line of demarcation in my business.  Comedy and show business worship youth, and I have none to offer anymore.  I still haven't received my big break!  And yet, the success stories of Jimmie Wiggins (google him if you don't know), Rodney Dangerfield and the likes of David Letterman and Jay Leno (who all got their breaks after the age of 40) give me inspiration and hope.  If nothing else, I've got the easiest job in the world, one that gives me satisfaction if not material reward.

Is that knowledge or wisdom, I wonder?

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

Jackson

Jackson                                       6052  (2112)

Sunday, November 12, 2006-2:10 A.M.

Hello from Jackson, Michigan, home of the Jackson Comedy Club.  I headlined a show this evening with feature act Jesse James Lundy, guest performer Kate Brindle and MC Chris Young.  Our crowd was small but spirited, and I had fun in my closing role, despite a 7-hour drive across Canada and into Michigan.

My weekend originally included a Friday show, but the club hasn't been drawing well, so they cut the Friday show.  It's a shame, because it's a really nice room with good sound and lights, and also I really could have used the money this week.  I took my car in to (finally) get my New York State inspection, and the repairs necessary to get it up to snuff were $600-some-odd dollars (before tax) which put an ass-whuppin' on the family finances.  I actually took my wife's car to the gig this weekend because we couldn't really afford to get my car out of the shop without taking all our scratch....I needed X amount of money for gas, so I wound up taking the Mazda, which doesn't get as good a mileage as my Corolla.

The only thing that really brought a smile to my face this week, other than having good quality time with my wife and daughter, was the election results on Tuesday and the resignation of Donald Rumsfeld.  I have had an itchy asshole about that guy ever since the "hillbilly armor" story broke, and this prick had the audacity to say that you go to war with the army you have, not the one you hope to have.  For the billions of dollars being funneled into the war effort, you'd think the soldiers would have the armor on their person and vehicles that they would need......but I don't want to get into a long political dissertation.  All I know is that payback is a bitch, and with the majority party now in the minority, I look forward to seeing some radical shit coming down the pipe.

I've got a 6 or 7 hour drive in front of me tomorrow, so I'm gonna keep this brief and catch some sleep.  But before I go, I want to mention something.  I notice that there is a trend that's been going on for some years, and it started in e-mail and spread to websites like "myspace" and the like....it's the personal information quiz.  I don't know who writes these things, but they are more often trite than not and while I want to answer them, I can't bring myself to answer questions like "what's your favorite color?" and "what is the last thing you ate?"  If you really want to know, my favorite colors are the Buffalo Bills team colors, Scarlet Red, Royal White and Navy Blue, and the last thing I ate was some Burger King chicken nuggets (the only food I could find this late at night, Steve).

So I thought, why not go ahead and answer a quiz, but the questions would be provided by folks who read my blog.  So I submit to you, my faithful readers....what do you want to know?  I'll assemble the first 20 questions and answer them, and then pass the quiz along into the ether, where people will answer for themselves or delete at their discretion.  So when you write a question, don't direct it at me, but at anyone who would want to answer such a question.

That's it.  Nappy nap time.

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

Where Is The Love

Where Is The Love                 6021  (2081)

Tuesday, November 7, 2006-1:50 A.M.

Well, good morning.  It's election day, so don't forget to go out there and fire someone (or hire someone, for that matter).

I'm home after the two-week jaunt in Wisconsin.  I worked this week with Chicago's Kevin Naughton, a comic I have been in the trenches with before.  We had decent shows all week at the State Street Comedy Club in Madison, one of the coolest places to play.  Gus Pappas and his wife Mary are the genial proprietors, and they definitely make you feel welcome in their club.  For God's sake, they pay you in an envelope with a thank-you card....how cool is that?  Mary turned me on to Keith Olbermann, who I've been watching on YouTube.  It's not a hard sell because he's beating that left-wing drum, but I like hearing it and I can't get enough, either.  He had one commentary that lasted about ten minutes that said either President Bush was lying or too stupid to know the truth.  Well, that may be pandering to the liberal base, but I can't say I didn't enjoy listening to it.  I have to switch off from CNN now and again and catch some MSNBC, now that I know what sort of flag they're flying.

I spent the weekend in the Monona Lake Suite at the Madison Concourse Hotel.  It's a beautiful property, really, and just a short, two-block walk from the club.  I've been to this club five times, and only once was the hotel sold out, and they had to move us to another place.  I think Gus has a deal with the owner of the hotel, because we had strange accomodations this week.

Instead of a regular guest room (which I guess were all sold out), Kevin and I were put in what is called "parlor suites."  Basically, these are rooms that are set up for meetings and don't include the regular guest room amenities.  For example, my room was basically double the size of a normal room, but there was no bed, so they rolled in a rollaway bed.  I had the normal TV/entertainment center with bureau drawers, a phone, iron and ironing board, but I also had a long meeting-room table and four chairs, also a small sofa (on wheels).  There was a normal bathroom, but I also had a bar area with another sink, and a small refrigerator.

There was a lot of extra room, so I spent the first hour moving furniture, condensing all of the items into a space about a quarter of the entire room.  This made things cozy and accessible, and I made sure I was going to be comfortable for the three days so I could do my job.  I set up the ironing board out in "no-man's-land" so it wouldn't be in my way, and ironed the shirts I would need for the weekend, hanging them on the backs of three of the four aforementioned chairs.

The hotel had wireless internet, so I set up my laptop on the big meeting room table, which I placed adjacent to the TV/entertainment center.  My bed was tucked in the corner, facing the TV, and I moved an end table next to my bed for the lamp, clock/radio and still had plenty of space for my CPAP machine (a piece of equipment that humidifies and blows air through my nose while I sleep to counter my sleep apnea).  I rolled the couch up to the table and sat on that while I worked at the computer, because it was much softer than the chairs.  Also, I had room on the sofa next to me for my briefcase, so from a convenience standpoint, it was optimal.

Thursday night was open mic night, and there were three of them, plus our mc.  They were very clique-ey and unwatchable, spitting out half-baked "shock" humor and then chastising the audience for not "getting" them.  It was really an obnoxious display.  I went up with my old school "setup-punchline" jokes and slaughtered, and none of the new kids talked to me afterwards.  I guess it must hurt to be 25 and hip, and some 40-year old bastard comes out of nowhere and shows you how it's done.  I hate to pat myself on the back, but the pretentiousness of some of the youth in this business is really starting to get to me.  When I was starting out, we paid our respects to the older comics who had figured out the game, and we learned from them.  These kids seem to think they know it all, and I never thought I would be talking like this, but I guess old people prattle on for a reason....it's a never-ending cycle that keeps getting played out over and over.

Friday night's shows were soft, but Saturday was excellent.  The University of Wisconsin won their big football game against Penn State, and I literally walked against the crowd earlier in the day as they headed down State Street from the stadium towards the downtown where my hotel was, and I was walking up State Street looking for lunch.  I was the only person out therenot wearing the red 'n' white of Wisconsin, as a matter of fact, beneath my black hooded sweatshirt, I was actually wearing Tennessee orange.  It was a faux pas easily remedied by not taking the sweatshirt off.

For a little while, I thought about driving home overnight, if for no other reason to get through Chicago in the night when traffic was light.  I nixed that idea in favor of six or seven hours of sleep (closer to six, to be honest), and headed out in the morning.  Chicago wasn't bad, but Indiana was very slow going....lots of trucks blocking both lanes (get right, asshole!) and construction cutdowns to one lane changed my estimated time of arrival from 8 o'clock in the evening to my eventual return sometime after 11 P.M.  Still, it was great to get home after two weeks on the road, and today I spent practically the whole day watching Harmony while Pam went out running errands.  My little daughter gave me the biggest hug I ever got, and it hurt a little bit (o.k., a lot) to realize all at once and in a very physical, tangible way what I deny myself because of my vocation and the pursuit of it.  At one point, I took out the colored pencils and we colored together in one of her coloring books, and it didn't matter that the sky had a big orange splotch in it even though I was trying to show her how to color it blue, she just appreciated that I was there with her, spending time with her.  Children spell "love" T-I-M-E, and I musn't forget that.

Wives spell love a bunch of different ways, and when I got home, Pamela had showed off the special things she got me at Tops, namely products with the Buffalo Bills logo on it....they were simple things, chunky-style soup, cornflakes and peanuts, but she knows how much I cherish the Bills, and got them to make me happy.  I had a big bowl of the cornflakes and enjoyed the soup for lunch.  It's a little thing, but much appreciated.

And while I'm on the Buffalo Bills, on Saturday night, a comedian friend of mine named Nathan Craig (I worked with him in Cleveland back in September) stopped in.....Madison being his home town (he basically lives in Chicago now).  We did the pal-around thing, and one of our last conversations regarded his beloved Green Bay Packers and how they were going to beat Buffalo this weekend, and I told him that Brett Favre sucked so bad, his football card was worth more than he was.  I listened to as much radio as I could on the drive home Sunday, and when I couldn't get a radio station in, I called my brother Christopher in Syracuse and made him describe the play-by-play to me over the phone until it was certain that Buffalo had won.

I have to go now...I'm really tired and I have to send Nate an e-mail telling him that the Packers suck.

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

Whatever

Whatever                              5979  (2039)

Thursday, November 2, 2006-1:10 A.M.

Well, I'm in Iowa.  Calling home and saying that I'm in Iowa is just a little less embarassing than calling home and saying I'm in prison.  And at the very least, no one has ever had to be bailed out of Iowa.  Except Howard Dean....boy, that was a mess.

Saturday night, I did my first ever three-show evening.  I had to look it up in my past road books, and apparently, it's never happened before.  I feel like a rookie, and I'm fast approaching 19 years of doing standup comedy.  And boy, doesn't that feel weird.

The shows were good, if not very well-attended....we probably could have gotten away with two shows, but the money was better, so I wasn't complaining.  I got back to the room and didn't realize how tired I actually was, I was out like a light.  I got some good rest, which was appropriate, because I had a big couple of days "off," and needed to prepare for them.

I had scheduled an audition on Monday for the NBC TV show "America's Got Talent."  I found out about the audition in Chicago through my friends at the Comedy Zone, who forwarded the press release to all of the comics on their roster.  I decided that because I was in Milwaukee, and staying at the club's comedy condo (a two-bedroom apartment where they store the comedians while we're in town), I might make good use of one of my days off by going down and throwing my hat into the ring.

On Sunday, I paid my cellular bill (had to drive all over Milwaukee to find a Cingular Wireless store that accepted cash payments) and just around the corner, as good luck would have, there was a public library branch that was open on Sunday!  I went in, used the internet to print out directions to the Chicago Navy Pier, which was much farther than I would have budgeted time for.  It was definitely a lucky happenstance that I wasn't able to pay my bill on Saturday, because I most likely would not have tried to print directions to Chicago, figuring it to be a "straight shot" and trusting myself to get there on my own instincts.

I was going to sit in the apartment on Sunday and go over my act with a fine-toothed comb, as I had to prepare two 90-second sets to perform for the casting people.  I decided I was better off not to dwell on it, and went to go see the new Robin Williams movie.  I highly recommend it, if you're interested in taking a nap in a movie theater.  The film has a great premise, but it does less-than-nimble handsprings around itself, trying to become something, and merely tangling up the cord of the kitchen telephone.  I got home in the early evening, less than inspired, and popped one of my DVD's into the player to see if there were any jokes that I'm not doing anymore that I should be doing.  I wound up writing down a dozen or so that I thought were good and appropriate, leaving out anything racial, sexual or controversial.  Also, anything having to do with pooping or gas also was deleted.  For some reason, they love that material in the club, but get the same people home in front of the TV, and all of a sudden they're picky.

I got up good 'n' early, shaved, showered, dressed, and headed to Chicago.  I got there relatively on time despite the heavy traffic, and instead of arriving an hour before my 1:30 audition, I got there 40 minutes early.  A stop to the bathroom ate up 20 minutes, and I cursed McDonald's and their dollar menu.  I had 20 minutes to go, and the information desk informed me that the auditions were at the other end of the Navy Pier, which is a big tourist trap (on an actual pier) with a food court, gift shops, a stained glass museum, and large banquet halls.  I beat feat for the end of the pier, as fast as my dress-shoe shod feet would allow, and got there with exactly two minutes to spare.  Come to find out, they had me down for 1:45, but it didn't matter, because nobody saw me until 2:30 anyway.

The audition went pretty well, as well as could be expected, doing a minute and a half of comedy in front of five people sitting at a table with no alcohol in front of them, and knowing that they sat through a whole day of auditions yesterday, and were going into the second half of a busy day when I arrived.  They were friendly, but didn't inspire any real hope in me....the actual selection process doesn't begin until they go to Los Angeles and one other city, New Orleans, I think, and then they alert the folks they're interested in by phone.  My phone might never ring, but if I stayed in the apartment in Milwaukee, it definitely never would have rung.

The guy that went in before me was a variety act, and I have to comment on this.  He was a tall, like Tim Robbins tall, guy, wearing a suit.  When he came out, some fifteen minutes later, he was naked except for his shoes and socks, and a pair of pink and white striped boxer shorts.  He also had a huge afro wig that was pulled down so far it obscured his vision, and he had his clothes in his arms, and was asking where the bathroom was.  I pointed him to the men's room across the way, and he went ass over teakettle into an easel with a sign with all the NBC audition rules.  I figured that this guy is definitely getting on to the program, but for all the wrong reasons.  They're gonna make fun of him, and he's got no shot at the cash prize, which I did not know was a million dollars until my wife looked it up online.  I hung out with a pair of magicians, Dean and Denise, and we chatted to make the time go faster.  They went in just before I did, and came out pretty quick.  While they were in there, an older guy with a bullwhip and his wife came up, the next act after me to try out.  They had roses, which I presume they would be using the bullwhip to whip out of each other's teeth, and I thought that no matter how clever I think I am, if I'm putting someone on TV, it's the old guy with the whip.

The drive home to Milwaukee from Chicago was a monster, and the next day, Halloween, it was off to Lacrosse, Wisconsin.  Now, having comedy on the same night as Halloween may seem like a great marketing plan, but it really isn't.  There were seven people at our show, and while they were great and fun to work in front of, it felt like the audition in Chicago the day before.  If it wasn't for the money, there'd be no reason for me to even have been there, having played Lacrosse just a month and a half before (at a different room for a different booker).  Today was Dubuque, Iowa, at the 3100 club, which is a pale replacement for the old Brass Ring lounge that used to put 300 people in the club each night.  Our crowd tonight was about 50, and not bad until folks decided that they could chime in with their two cents like it was a town meeting.  Again, if it wasn't for the money, I wouldn't even come.

The rest of the week, it's Madison, Wisconsin, one of the smartest (and most liberal) towns in the United States, and the lodging is at the five-star Concourse Hotel, which just happens to be walking distance from the State Street Comedy Club.  This is one of the clubs that I look forward all year to playing, I always do well and have a really good time.  Hopefully, tomorrow I'll find a comic book shop (I know they have one, just don't remember how to get there) and have some gyros at this Greek place down college row.  State Street, where the club is located, follows all the way to the University of Wisconsin at Madison (Go Badgers) and features a long string of shops that are very eclectic and interesting.  There's also the obligatory Starbucks and chain-style fast food (Taco Bell, Burger King) and a great pizza place that stays open quite late.

It's been a fun and interesting tour this last couple of weeks, but I'm reaching saturation and can't wait to get home again.  I don't know how the "big name" guys do it, touring for months on end; actually, I do know, it's called drugs and alcohol and meaningless groupie sex.  I guess I really need to make sure that I'm home at least once a week, my body can't handle any of those three things.  I turn 40 years old on the 15th, and it's a milestone that I'm not going to be able to ignore, at least because the people around me probably won't let me.  But inside, I definitely know what's going on....I've looked forward to 40 as the perfect synergy between wisdom and physical stamina, figuring that as I've collected knowledge, I would still have (at this point) the energy to use that knowledge.  There are some days I'm not so sure, but as my health gets better and I continue to do the important things, watching my diet, excercising and monitoring my blood sugar, I'm sure my outlook will change.

OK, that's it.  I'll check in again before the end of the week, I'm sure, and if I don't, make sure you vote this Tuesday.

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY