Fast And Loose

Fast And Loose                       9059  (2269)

Wednesday, September 26, 2007-1:40 A.M.

I know it's a little early in the season for a horror story, but here goes....

I worked in Connecticut this past week, which for those of you keeping track, is my 22nd state this year, and you should know that working a lot of different places usually makes me happy.

And actually, this trip was making me happy until the very end....here are the details.

I took off from Rochester on Thursday morning and had an uneasy feeling about this roadtrip; too many loose ends were hanging.  I was working two consecutive nights for two different bookers, and I didn't have an itinerary for either of them.  I put one together for myself using all of the information, but it was still just put together by me, and I didn't feel "ready" to leave the house without all of the info coalesced on one document.

I picked up Ray Salah, my best friend for the last 19 years and my opener for Thursday and Friday nights, and off we headed on our six-hour journey into Connecticut.  The drive was easy, although New York State raped us on the Thruway tolls, $9.90 one way....thank you, New York.  No wonder businesses are leaving the state by the dozen.

We got to the Motel 6 in Niantic, Connecticut around 5:30 P.M., more than enough time to catch a nap and shower up and get ready for the big show.  We were playing at a place called Raya's in Gales Ferry, CT, booked and hosted by Connecticut comic Dave Zamoider.  Dave's a new jack in the business, and when I put the word out on the internet that I was looking for a companion gig to my Friday engagement, he put together a show for me, which was very much appreciated.

Raya's is an Italian restaurant owned by a middle-eastern man named Muhammed.  It was sparsely attended, but the sound and lighting were decent and the folks who hung out mostly paid attention to the show.  Ray went up and did his thing after Dave's mc set, and I was looking forward to a good barroom show.

Five minutes in, one of the chains holding one of the long lamps over the billiard table gave way, sending the Budweiser light crashing to the slate top of the pool table.  It was just a sign of things to come.

I soldiered on through my show, which becamean open forum for discussion.  Don't get me wrong, I enjoy interacting with the crowd, but this wasn't even heckling, they were talking to me like we were at a cocktail party!  I'd get them with a laugh, and then they had stories to tell.  At one point, a birthday cake came out, and Muhammed *shushed* me so they could sing "Happy Birthday."

The high point of the evening was meeting Dave, and Liz, the bartender, a 26-year-old lass who sported a unique tattoo on the back of her right shoulder; it was a heart with a nail through it.  The tattoo, she explained, was relevant because it represented all the pain she had gone through, and it's placement represented that it was all behind her.  I would never personally get a tattoo, but if I did, it would have to be one such as this, with an actual pertinent meaning.  She was delightful to meet and to speak to, and making the acquaintance of people like her, even if only for a short time, is one of the reasons I truly enjoy my job.

The next day we dragged our feet checking out of the hotel, cadging a late check-out by virtue of not leaving on time, and we headed out to lunch and then the library to use the internet (my laptop is in the shop, being de-virused by The Geek Squad), and then we started off on a tour of Central Connecticut's thrift stores.  I found five good ones in the phone book, mostly in New London and Norwich, and we started off on our journey.  I wound up finding quite a few books that I expect to sell for a profit on the internet (a great way to kill time while on the road), and after a series of twists and turns, we started out towards Marlborough, CT, home of the historic Marlborough Tavern.

We didn't get a hotel for the gig as one was not provided, and we planned on just doing the gig and driving the five and a half hours home.  We got started promptly at 8:00 P.M., and started performing for the 40-some-odd patrons in the room.  They were enjoying the show, and every so often, John, the manager (who I found to be of the stiff-upper-lip, soft spoken New Englander variety), would pop his head in the room to see how things were going, and the crowd would always get quiet, like the proctor for an exam had just caught them cheating on a test.

A little while later, at the 50-minute mark, I was closing up, planning on doing an hour, and Ray popped his head in the room and said, "Ralph, you have to get off stage NOW."  I was a little concerned because I was in the middle of an oral sex bit, and I was wondering if I had somehow crossed the line or something.  Come to find out, the booker had a headliner not show up at another gig about half an hour away, and I was being redeployed.

Ray and I piled into the car and headed to Uncasville, CT, home of the Polish American Club, where Ray and I had performed together two years ago.  We were greeted by the club manager, a gentleman whose name I forget, but face I would easily remember.  He was an electrician, and earlier in the week a transformer blew up in his face, leaving his forehead and cheeks pocked with a scarring that looked like a strawberry dipped into chocolate sauce.  He was wearing goggles, so a raccoon mask of pink flesh ringed his eyes, causing him to have a very intimidating stare.

On stage was Sheila Van Dyke, a comic out of Boston who I'd never worked with before, but had communicated on the internet with.  She was rocking the room with what turned out to be an hour of her act, and she wrapped it up and let me take the stage.  I did about 35 minutes, as requested by the booker, and closed up.  The show had started late, about 45 minutes, and then gone an hour and thirty-five, plus whatever time the mc had done.  The sound system wasn't very impressive, either; it sounded like mud coming through three pairs of panty hose.

After the show, I was shaking hands and kissing babies, selling CD's and talking to the folks, and unfortunately for me, I happened to be in earshot of the conversation between the manager and the booker's man-in-the-field, Dave.  Dave was basically being told in no uncertain terms that the manager was not satisfied with the services rendered, specifically the sound being bad, the show starting late, and the slipshod manner in which reserves were called in.  Luckily, none of this reflected on Sheila, myself, or the mc whose name I don't think I ever learned.

So now it's a regular cluster-fuck, with Dave calling the booker on his cell phone and trying to communicate his problem, and the booker insisting that he not leave until he collected the money due.  Scarred-up guy was going back and forth with another gentleman who I think might have been his brother, and his brother was advocating for the comics...we did our job, we should be paid.  At that point, I just wanted to get out of there, follow Dave back to the gig in Marlborough, and collect my money and drive home.  These situations are rarely solved properly in an evening.

So scarred-up guy starts going to the comics one by one, asking us specifically what we were supposed to be paid.  He grabbed the mc first, and the kid didn't know any better so he spilled his guts.  Sheila had money coming from another gig she had worked that was part of the budget, plus the money for this show, so she shot off a figure.  When it came to my turn, I basically just reached into my pocket and drew out the index card that Ray had scribbled his notes on back at the Marlborough Tavern...."35 minutes, $175."  I handed the card to the manager.  He took my home address and promised me a check, which was fine with me...I just wanted this manic night to be over.  Basically the three numbers he received was about half the budget for the gig, and he was pretty sure he was being overcharged.  Also, he didn't like the idea that he was paying one of the comics for a show they did somewhere else....I guess that wouldn't sit very well with me, either.

I helped Dave out with his sound gear, hoping to get him moving back to Marlborough, 30 minutes to the northeast, to collect the money, pay Ray and myself, and let us begin our five and a half hour drive home to Rochester.  While I was helping Dave load the gear into the truck, the manager's brother came out and handed me cash.  They asked me to come back into the club and sign a receipt, that I had been paid, which I did.  We headed back to Marlborough, with Dave in the truck behind us, and we got back to the Marlborough Tavern, which was closed, but with a few employees finishing up their closing duties.  Dave collected his envelope, paid Ray and myself, and we wished him well and drove back to New York.

Long story short, but I guess it's too late for that, when I got back to Rochester, I got an e-mail from the booker that basically said "Thank you for working the other gig, I'm glad you got your money, you're not supposed to talk money with the account, it's not your place, you won't be working for me again."

I've worked for this booker exactly three times in the last four years.  I guess I'm upset because none of what happened really was my fault, if anything, I'm the guy who road in on the white horse and took the place of the comic who was originally booked to close the room.  My sin was talking money with the client, who was unhappy to begin with, and bottom line, was going to argue the point that he didn't get what he paid for regardless of what he was given.  Part of the conversation that I did hear was that Dave tried to calm scarry-face down by telling him that they had already come down $75 on their commission....well, that's basically the difference between what I made closing the first gig in Marlborough and the second one in Uncasville...so they basically came down on their commission by trimming it off the headliner budget, i.e., me.

And I'm fired.

Well, again, I'm disappointed that somehow I'm the bad guy here, although I communicated with Sheila online and she was fired, too, and misery loves company, I guess.  All I know is that I responded back to the booker's e-mail in an even, respectful tone, explaining my position.  This is a business, and if you conduct business poorly, it will come back to haunt you.  The Bible says "Your sin will find you out," and if you're playing fast and loose with the budget with a client, eventually, something will happen and if you're overcharging, then you will have to explain yourself.

This week, it's off to the Pittsburgh Funny Bone, and it's the first time I'm working the club, sharing the stage with Matt Davis from Charlotte, North Carolina, and it's none of your business what I'm making!

Yours Sincerely from the Connecticut Unemployment Line,

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

 

Get In The Ring

Get In The Ring                            9006  (2216)

Tuesday, September 18, 2007-4:50 A.M.

Good morning.  I can't sleep, so I may as well blog....also, I'm getting more and more miserable about keeping this journal; life seems to be getting in the way, but that's good, right?

My week started out with a bang, courtesy of a performance at Turning Stone Casino with Great Lakes Productions' cast of Joey and Maria's Comedy Wedding.  Now, I used to perform regularly with this cast and also with the casts of their 25th Anniversary show and also the spoof show "The Soapranos," but haven't done one of these shows in years.  In their heyday, we were doing three shows a week with the wedding, so I know the show pretty well, and once we got into the swing of things, it was easy to drop right back into place, remembering the lines, the bits and the moves.  It was a lot of fun.  I played Enzo Prosciutto, the usher on the end who has a bunch of gold chains pinned inside his coat and tries to hawk them at the wedding.  I had a great time with old buddy Mike Ruiz, who flew in from New York for the show, as well as cast members new and old.  They really had a great bunch of actors working on the show and the corporate client, Kinney Drugs, were a good audience, the only criticism being that they got a little tired toward the end of the show, but that's on us; if we see them starting to flag, then we should be cutting bits and getting to the end.

Special thanks I offer to the cast of Joey and Maria's Comedy Wedding; Ken Rondo (Joey Gnocchi), Jordan Betts (Maria Cavatelli), Allison McCrossen (Viola Vermicelli), Maly Iorio (Mama Nonna Cavatelli), Adele Cuminale (Theresa Tortellini), Bill Repp (Pastor Faggioli) and Mike Ruiz (Giovanni Gnocchi) with Patrick McCann running sound.  They boosted my while I was trying to remember the show that was such a big part of my life for so many years, and I had a blast.  Thank you all!

Wednesday, I substitute hosted at the Comix Cafe for Leo DuFour and Eric Kirkland.  I'd worked with both of these fellows before, but in a managerial capacity, and it was fun sharing the stage with them.  My back and legs were still a little sore from the Joey and Maria's show because of all the running around, but my pulled groin muscle seemed to have settled in my foot, and actually the extra activity seemed to have massaged it out, so I was o.k.  That's the beauty of hosting...you only need to do about 15 minutes up front (if that) and then you can go sit down for half an hour.

Friday morning, after a series of errands, I loaded up the car and headed for the Comedy Zone in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.  I really enjoy working this particular club because the gig is in Doc Holliday's steakhouse, and they have the Harrisburg West Conference Center adjoining the building, which means the gig, the lodging and a great restaurant are all within 50 feet of each other.  Also, it's right off of route 83, so I've driven past it so many times on the way to and from other gigs that I don't even need to print out driving directions anymore.

Friday night was excellent, and I shared the stage with headliner LA Hardy and our mc was Rich Carucci, the Comedy Steamroller out of New Jersey.  We clicked as a team and I told both those guys that this was the best show I'd been a part of in a long while.  Rich has an in-your-face style of hosting and his spritzing is definitely his strong point.  LA is a seasoned veteran with a great stage presence and perfect timing, and as for me, well, I should be headlining, so I was knocking it out of the park every show.  I set a personal record for merchandise sales going back to March when I was in San Antonio, and I had to work a seven-show week to beat this week's four-show schedule.  And the money is always helpful, believe me.

Saturday I was up with the birds (those birds that get up at 10 o'clock) and out running errands.  I hit the bank, an office supply store (I won't tell you which one, but they sell staples) and the library where I used the internet while my laptop is in the shop getting de-bugged.  They were having a book sale and I picked up some interesting titles, including some religious and philosophical ones, as well as a copy of Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World" that I'd never read before but had been promising to get to.  Then I met Rich and LA for lunch and we chattered about the comedy business and our families and I enjoyed some of Doc Holliday's delicious sirloin-tip chili (one of their best items, in my humble opinion).  Then it was back to the room to grab a nap, anticipating two shows and a five-hour drive home.

The shows were great, not as energeticas the Friday early show, but good nonetheless and for our early Saturday show, we were treated to a guest spot by the area's own Sonya King, who clocked in with a quick five.  I hadn't seen here in years, but she's been working steadily all over and she was fun to pal around with.  I added a bit this week that I'd done before, but only as a stand-alone bit, and I figured out how to dovetail it into a core bit that I'd been doing, and it worked great.  And it was clean!  I always impress myself when I can add a new clean bit to the set and have it get a really strong response, which is the prize you get for trusting yourself, I think.  After the second show, the club settled up with me, I went back to my room to pack out and get ready to head home.

I rolled my luggage out to the car, tossed it in, and cursed myself for packing so quickly for this trip as I failed to bring a coat or a sweater because it was so warm during the day, and now it was down around 46 degrees and all I had was a button-up shirt to throw on over a t-shirt.  I got some heat blowing in the car and called my wife, and just before I got on the exit for route 83, I noticed my wedding ring was gone!

I hung up with her and spun back into the parking lot of the hotel/restaurant/club.  I left my room key (one of those credit card swipey numbers) on the bureau so I had to find the night manager, who was totaling up the club receipts, and ask him to cut me a new room key.  I raced back to the room and found.....nothing.  I was really starting to sweat, as I didn't want to end such a good weekend on a downer, and I started re-tracing my steps.  LA was chilling in the lounge and was yelling at me "Why are you still here?" And I told him that my wedding ring was gone and he yelled back "It's in your car!"

I decided he was probably right.  I ran back to the car, flipped on the dome light and got ready to start tearing my luggage apart, figuring the ring must be in my other pants that I had changed out of.  The ring was sitting, clear as day, on the back seat next to my bag.  I put it on, kissed it like I always do when I think about my wife, and got heading home.  What a relief! It had slipped off my finger when I was packing the car, due to two things; one, I've lost a whole lot of weight since I got married, and the ring fits loosely to begin with, and two, the cold makes my fingers shrink, and the ring has slipped off before, but usually I notice it.  I lost about 40 minutes but not my wedding ring, so I was happy to have made the sacrifice.

Today is Pamela's birthday, so if you know her, feel free to drop her a birthday wish, you can also get to her via my MySpace page (she's the first friend in my top 40, so she shouldn't be difficult to find).  She's not old, but she doesn't get carded at bars anymore, much to her chagrin, so don't tease her about having so many candles on her cake that there's only enough room to write HB instead of Happy Birthday!

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

The Song We Used To Call Wasting Time

The Song We Used To Call Wasting Time   8950  (2160)

Monday, September 10, 2007-8:45 P.M.

Hey, I'm back in New York after my hell-drive home from Charlotte, North Carolina.  Ever bust a windshield on a rental car?  I have....

So I worked Friday night in Morgantown, West Virginia, headlining with special guest Kate Brindle.  I got in early and did some laundry, as I had only packed for the last weekend in Newport News, and didn't plan on continuing on to North Carolina, but did it anyways.  I lounged around the hotel room and made it down to the club (just off the lobby of the Ramada) and was met by Larry, the house mc and an old friend.  He didn't look very happy.

Come to find out, the hotel didn't have my check.  I was basically a fill-in booking, by a week or more, not very short notice but just enough to cock things up.  I had a short chat with the folks at the front desk, and Larry, and the best we could come up with was me returning to Morgantown on my way home on Sunday (I was passing right through) and they would have my check ready.  I'm a pretty easy-going guy, so I agreed, and set off to do the show.

Kate was a little nervous, having never worked in this venue (or anywhere in West Virginia, for that matter) before.  She did a great job, got a couple of applause breaks, and got off just a minute or two shy of what was expected of her.  No problems, she's a veteran and a performer who can do the job on stage.  Now it's my turn.

Well, Larry and I talked before the show, and we were recounting the last three visits I made to Wit's End in the Ramada at Morgantown, West Virginia.  This time around, they didn't have a check for me.  The last time, my feature act got sick and I had to do the whole show myself.  The time before, they were sold out and I had to share a room with the other comic.

I let all the pressure come out on stage, and it was fantastic. 

I don't like to be the guy who crows about how great he does, but I was there, so I might as well tell the story.  I had them eating out of my hand.  I knew what they wanted, and I shoveled it at them as fast as I could.  I ad-libbed, messed with the crowd, and just gave them an avalance of punchlines.  And they loved it!  I sold a bunch of merchandise, handed out a big pile of MySpace cards (the legions are growing), and headedback to my room to settle down and get some sleepto prepare for the big 6-hour drive to Charlotte, North Carolina.

I went down for breakfast (the Ramada in Morgantown has a great hot breakfast buffet...I recommend it highly) and then headed back to my room to shower and pack.  Upon returning to my room, I got a call from the front desk.

"Mr. Tetta, how was your breakfast?"  It was the night manager from the evening before.  "Just fine" I answered.  "I have some good news" she said.  "We have your check, so make sure you stop by the desk before you check out."

Now, not bragging or anything, but if I didn't destroy that room the night before, they wouldn't have gone through all the trouble to get me my check.  Matter of fact, if I ate it, they would have stiffed me on the Sunday and just mailed it to me.  But I got people hopping, and the next day, they were STILL talking about my performance.

Saturday night, it was night and day.  I cashed my check and made the drive with time to spare, and was feeling pretty good about my luck that day.  The luck dried up at the Belmont Comedy Zone at Starz Tavern, which was a great room the last time I played it.  The only thing that changed was the audience, which got real "red-necky" this time around, and they weren't hecklers, but they thought the show should be a conversation, which is great, but that's not the way I wrote my part of it.

Headliner Kerry White was great, and it was great to see him again, and I was working with the mc, Jared Burton, for the first time.  Second show was the nightmare, as a rumble broke out about something Kerry said about religion, and long story short, four police cars.

This week should be a little tamer, as I appear at the Harrisburg, PA Comedy Zone with Mike Veneman, a great comic and an old friend.  In between, I have a "Joey and Maria's Comedy Wedding" show at Turning Stone Casino, and a night as the fill-in mc at my home club, the Comix Cafe, so it's a mixed bag of performances, but enough to keep me busy.

Oh, and the cracked windshield?  Yeah, I caught a rock in the windshield last Friday and was pissed that I didn't take the extra insurance, but when I turned the car in today, the guy said "Oh, we don't care about glass" so I ran away like I stole the car.  Hertz is officially back on the "good boy bench" as far as I'm concerned.

If you have a little spare time and you don't mind integrating a little religion into your life, say a prayer for Buffalo Bills tight end Kevin Everett who got injured in yesterday's game against the Denver Broncos and may never walk again.

Best,

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

Power of Positive Drinking

Power of Positive Drinking                                        8918  (2128)

Thursday, September 6, 2007-3:50 P.M.

Well, good afternoon from Garner, North Carolina, where I'm sitting in a McDonald's using their brand-new Wayport Internet service.  It's $2.95 for two hours of internet, but when you can't find a Panera Bread or a public library, it's just the ticket for browsing the web or as us road comics call it, "our day job."

I'm right around the corner from my sister's house, and I'm meeting her and her husband for dinner tonight.  It will be the first time I've seen her since before my father died, and I'm looking forward to the visit.  Hopefully, the conversation won't get too heavy...I'm not really in the mood for it today.

I last checked in on Saturday, before the Saturday evening shows at Cozzy's Comedy Club in Newport News, Virginia.  The first show was pretty sedate, a non-smoking crowd full of folks who wanted to chat, so chat I did.  Straight comedy wasn't impressing them at all, they wanted to discuss things.  It was as annoying as a husband and wife trying to converse when he wants intercourse and she wants to talk about feelings.

Second show, they wanted straight sex, no foreplay.  I said something bitchy about some guy who was drinking a Jaeger bomb, which to the uninitiated, is Jaegermeister dropped into a glass of Red Bull energy drink.  It's God-awful, and I called the guy a pussy and told him "real men don't drop their liquor in soda pop."  So, here comes the Jaeger shot with the Red Bull, courtesy of faggy drinking guy.  I downed the shot and returned the can of Red Bull, unopened, to the server.  "I drink whiskey!" I thundered, and six shots of Jack Daniels' later, I was declaring war on West Virginia and trying to get the Virginia National Guard to go with me.  And to show you what sweethearts the gang at Cozzy's are, the last shot was watered down....thank God....after 5 shots of whiskey and a Jaeger, who knows what a sixth one would have done?  Good looking out Jimmy, you English bastard (Jimmy is the limey bartender at Cozzy's....good guy, but pushes the cocktails like he's on commission).

The next morning, I paid for my indiscretions with a blood sugar count of 300...the proper range is between 90 and 120, if you're keeping score.  I had only a mild buzzing in my skull, not a full hangover, but I wasn't going to play three rounds of racquetball, either.  I took it easy, getting laundry done as I stayed as a guest of the club in their comedy condo (also known as Karen's house).  Karen spent most of the time sleeping, so it was easy for me to stay out of her way.

Monday, I spent most of the day killing time, screwing around on the internet and capping the day off with a six-episode [Scrubs] marathon.  I managed, thanks to the TV section of the Sunday paper, to find six episodes of Scrubs on three different stations thorughout the day, with only a half-hour break to watch Futurama (another of my favorite shows).

Tuesday, it was back to the road and a six-hour drive to Lake Norman, North Carolina and the Comedy Zone room in the Galway Hooker.  I was working with headliner Just June, who I work with a lot, and I had a fun show.  I did a bit on stage for the twelve or so audience members, basically asking them if they wanted to hear my normal comedy act, or would they indulge me in telling a story?  They opted for the story.....had they seen my act before?

Wednesday, I headed over to Greenville, North Carolina, home of the University of East Carolina.  The gig at Tie Breakers was fun, there were about 60 people there, which was quadruple the attendance the last time I played there.  June knocked it out of the park, and I was no slouch, if I do say so myself, although it's getting harder and harder for me to do only 25 minutes.

The highlight of this morning was finding out a little prank my good friend Steve Burr pulled on me....while my laptop computer was unattended, he changed some of my toolbar favorites to porn sites, and didn't change the icons.  Boy, was I surprised when I tried to Google something!  The funny thing was, I was looking for information about Bill Clinton, and I wound up seeing a girl with a cigar.....truth is stranger than fiction, I guess.

Friday I'm back to headlining at the room in Morgantown, West Virginia with feature act Kate Brindle.  Kate's a good kid and we've worked together a bunch before, so I'm looking forward to some good-natured tomfoolery, or in other words, I'll make off-color remarks, and Kate will scrunch her nose and make a face at me like if she smelled something bad.  Look out, Morgantown!

Saturday, it's back to Belmont, North Carolina, just outside of Charlotte, where the weekend has dried up from Thursday through Saturday to just the Saturday.  It's a small club, and the last time I was there, I did really well, so I'm happy to be going back.  The last time I was there, I was with Robert York, the cowboy juggling comedian, and this time I'm with Just June.  I'm starting to feel like a Comedy Zone All-Star!

I'm semi-dreading the 12-hour drive home, but I've gone longer and the weather's mostly nice, so I just need to keep my head down and plow, and try not to dawdle in the morning.  If I can get moving by 7 or 8, I can do the whole drive in daylight, and that will make a big difference, I think.  Also, I spared myself the Labor Day traffic by not going home last week, although I've become pretty homesick.  Maybe if I'm lucky, I can listen to some football on the radio while I'm driving.  That sattelite radio package is looking better by the day.

O.K., that's me out.  Have a good one and enjoy the rest of the summer weather before it splits.

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

The Promised Land

The Promised Land                               8873  (2083)

Saturday, September 1, 2007-2:40 P.M.

Good afternoon from Newport News, Virginia, home of Cozzy's Comedy Club.  I'm seated in a cubicle at the NN Public Library, which among other things, provides us wireless interntet users a place to park our laptops.  I'm checking e-mail and droning away on MySpace, like any good road comic with fuck-all else to do on a Saturday afternoon.

I got home from Florida safely and made my way directly to bed, courtesy of the fact that I can't sleep on airplanes.  I tried, and I wore my hoodie to cover my eyes and I actually slept a little bit, but not enough to really feel refreshed.  I had a big cup of coffee with breakfast, and all that did was give me an underlying buzz, like a small snooze alarm in my head parked behind both ears.  Just enough to keep me rattling and away from blessed slumber.

I slept until my internal clock reminded me that I was hosting open mic at the Comix Cafe in less than an hour, and I jumped in the shower and got ready.  I managed to pull a groin muscle wrestling around with fellow comic Steve Burr in the Jokeboy's comedy condo, and it still hurts today, roughly a week later.  I had always heard about groin pulls in the sports world, mostly football players out on injury, but never knew they were so damaging.  I figured the injury would be proportionate to the size of your groin, but that's not the case....mine goes from just under my left nut to just below my left knee....and I guarantee you, I'm being taxed well into the next bracket on that one.

I appeared at the Comix Cafe the next night as well, as they are saving money on high-priced radio talent Tommy Mule in favor of more afordable talent such as myself.  I had a good time working with old friends Valarie Storm and Ross Bennett, who I have had the pleasure of working with before, and while Ross labored under his old stage name, Eddie Strange. 

I was supposed to work the weekend, but a headlining opportunity arose at Cozzy's Comedy Club here in Newport News.  I hadn't worked at Cozzy's in quite some time, and wanted to get back in.  Come to find out, I had been deleted from the roster due to my name appearing on the website of a competing club that was open in the area for a very short time.  Needless to say, I never worked at that club, and I was blackballed for no good reason, but I was offered as a replacement this week and accepted, so my exile must be over.  And that was funny to me, too, because the booker told me that the original headliner couldn't work the weekend because "his wife wouldn't let him."  Now, I'll be honest, my wife's gotten awfully spoiled this summer with me being home so much, but I don't know that I'd ever let her forbid me to work.  That would be cause for a guy to up and get his own place, let me tell you what.

So I rented a car, as my wife needed access to our vehicle this weekend, and I got a nice Kia Spectra to drive.  It's a peach, and good on gas, not that I need it so much this weekend.  Gas here in Virginia is running $2.44 a gallon, quite a change from the $2.89 a gallon I left in Rochester.  I drove all night Thursday to get through Washington D.C. (the worst traffic jam in America) before Friday morning, knowing full well that it's Labor Day Weekend and traffic was going to be double.  I got to Petersburg, Virginia, and parked at a rest area for a three-hour nap.  I didn't crack my windows at all for safety reasons and I didn't run the air conditioning to save on gas, and the morning sun roasted me like a rotisserie chicken.  Not fun.

I worked last night with Richmond comic Ray Bullock, a guy I'd never met before, but clicked immediately with a pre-show discussion of movies, television and literature.  He drove back home so we didn't get to pal around today, which would have been cool.  I'm out on lunch right now, checking e-mail and MySpace and if I don't go around and do some junking looking for books at thrift shops, I might just go back to the condo and rest.  But before I do, I'm gassing up and I'm planning on stopping at the comic book shop over by the club to see if they have any Teen Titans Go! back issues for my nephew William, so I'll have a nice afternoon before I have to start getting ready for two shows tonight.

Next week is a tour of North Carolina with a stop in West Virginia, and then a few weeks of gigs in Pennsylvania and Connecticut, closer to home.  It feels good to be getting back into my "road comic" routine.  Home is great, but when you work on the road, you want to be on the road.

God knows the desire of your heart, and trust in him for all things.

Peace,

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

Those Shoes

Those Shoes                                                  8808  (2018)

Saturday, August 25, 2007-2:10 A.M.

It feels pretty gay to tell a shoe-shopping story, but I'm gonna do it.

I'm in Ocala, Florida, home of Jokeboy's Comedy Club (www.jokeboys.com) and nestled snugly into the two bedroom comedian condo with comedy buddy Steve Burr, my partner in crime this week (www.steveburrcomedy.com).  Steve's been complaining that his MySpace page is far outgaining the hits on his regular site, so be a friend and look at his website today...it will cheer him up.

When last I wrote, I had one more show to do in Reading, PA at the Reading Comedy Outlet, and I'm happy to report that the show went fine, even though the crowd was overly happy to respond to every joke I attempted to tell with a little addition of their own.  I eagerly finished my set and turned the stage over to Auggie Cook (www.AuggieCook.com) and went back to my hotel room to pack.  I must have misjudged the time, though, because I started back to the club to try and sell some merchandise, and wound up walking through the crowd as they were leaving the club.  I still managed to move a few pieces, which was encouraging.  It's hard, I think, to enjoy a comedy show when others in the crowd are heckling and making the show a living nightmare for the comic.  It's like assholes who sit up near the projector at the movie theater and keep sticking their hand in front of the lens...you just want to slap the shit out of them.

I drove home in the evening fog, courtesy of a hot day and a cold night.  I wound up taking a strange detour to Allentown, PA, a little out of my way but a nicer, more well-lit road home.  I stopped by my brother's house and dropped off a comic book for my nephew, which he enjoys quite a bit.  It was 4:30 in the morning when I hit Syracuse, so I killed my headlights, rolled quietly up the driveway, and dumped the bag with the comic on my brother's enclosed front porch.  I called him the next day and he collected it along with themorning paper, and I was glad that it didn't just get trampled over as they left the house.

So what about the shoes?

Sunday was a sleep day and Monday was a packing and preparation day for my Tuesday morning flight to Florida.  I was rocking the new contact lenses and they were dried out as hell by the time I landed in Orlando.  I met Steve at the airport as we were lucky enough to coordinate our flights so that his plane from Los Angeles and my plane from Rochester landed within half an hour of each other.  We rented a car and started off north to Ocala.

Steve had very little sleep, having been in the air since 10 o'clock the night before, and I was pretty red-eyed with only about four hours of sleep under me, and we were heading up the 441 when Steve decided to pull a little trick on me.  We were stopped in four lanes of traffic at a light, and Steve honked the car horn and used his driver's controls to roll my window down.  Needless to say, I looked over and caught the glare of two Hispanic girls who were none too amused.  The driver, a hard-faced young lady who looked like she just got off shifts flipping mattresses at the EconoLodge, rolled her toothpick to one side of her mouth, bobbed her head and said "What do you want?"  Actually, she only said two of those words, connected by the word "chew."  Ah, you gotta love the Latinas.

I tried to scavenge as much dignity as I could in the situation, and I said "Sorry, my friend thought you were someone else" to which the girl replied "Yeah, well you look like Peter Pan" which I didn't completely understand.  Then she rolled her window up and back down and then said "You look like a big polar bear" which I guess is a crack at me being big and white, or maybe a comment on the salmon that I was eating that I had just flipped out of the river with my paw.  I sheepishly turned to Steve and said "You can roll my window up now" which made him laugh, because obviously I was too tired to realize that I could have done that anytime I wanted to.  Cute little prank, eh?

We stopped for some lunch and made the drive the rest of the way to Ocala, and stopped by the club to get some directions to the condo, and the keys.  We got the envelope with the keys and directions, but the directions might as well have been a recipe for blueberry muffins, because all they did was make us lost, sweaty and mad.  We finally figured out where we were supposed to be and got settled in, and after unpacking, showering and getting into clean clothes, we both definitely felt better.

O.K., so what about the shoes?

The next morning, we shipped out for Destin, Florida.  It was about a 5 1/2 hour trip, but we traveled up onto the panhandle of Florida, and gained an hour by virtue of passing into the Central Time Zone.  I was so happy to pick up that extra hour, though, because it meant I was able to have a nice nap.  We met early at the Sportsbook Grill and bar, right across the parking lot from the Best Western, and had a little dinner before the show.  Or, I should say, we had dinner before the little show.  The audience was cobbled together from a small amount of folks who had actually come out for the show, members of the restaurant's softball team who elected to stick around, and some folks that were in the bar that the manager decided to comp.  It wound up actually being a very good show, but it was clear that with shabby turnouts like this one, the venue isn't going to be doing comedy very long, and that's a shame, because it was a nice place with a good stage, lights and sound.

The next day, Steve and I hit the road good 'n' early, courtesy of a schedule from hell.  Steve was booked to open for Josh Blue from Last Comic Standing at the auditorium in Ocala for a 7:30 show, and we had the six hour journey, a missing hour courtesy of crossing the time zone, and the basic creature need of getting back home to shower, iron clothes and maybe eat something.  We hit the road early and drove into the sun, and before long, my left contact lens started drying out and basically did everything except shrivel up, jump out of my eye and stick to my cheek.  I drove into a hurricane-spawned severe thunderstorm with one camera on standby...you ever drive a car 80 miles per hour with one eye closed?  It's a treat, let me tell ya.

The thunderstorm was so severe, the radio station we were listening to actually cut away from the song they were playing to go to the Emergency Broadcasting System.  I'm 40 years old and I've never heard anything other than a test from them.  The sky darkened and it rained, but the worst of it was south of us, and I sped down route 10 as fast as possible, and once I hit 75 south, the skies were sunny and clear.

We got home, and everything went off without a hitch.  Our mc, Chase Holliday, opened the show and I guess he upset some of the seniors from the Villages retirement community that came out (in a big bus, no less) for the show.  He asked if they were drinking and they said yes, and he said "Go ahead, the AARP is paying for it" and even though it got him a round of boos, I didn't think it was that offensive.  But some tight-ass called in, and that's a shame, because he was definitely not deserved of such harsh criticism.

Great....how about the damn shoes, already?

Steve got back before I hit the stage, and we both turned in our sets, and did the basic after-show hand-shaking and product-hawking that has become the norm in our business.  Josh came over from the auditorium to take a look at the club, and we chatted for a few minutes.  He was nice enough, but didn't have much to say.  He was heading to Atlanta, and I'm sure after winning LCS, he's probably had his fill of fawning comics, comedy clubs and everyone else that wants to kiss his ass.

Friday was beat, except for the shoes (I'm getting to it, hold on, OK?).  Steve and I set out for radio, early, early in the morning.  We literally had to get up at 7 AM and drive to Gainesville, which is a full hour away.  We got to the Buzz 100.5 FM studios and did about 20 minutes on the Mojo and Leigh Scott morning show, and they were pleasant enough and the spot went well.  After getting back home, we unwound for a few hours (I slept, I don't know what Steve did), and then we went back out looking for lunch and to run some errands.

Well, suffice to say that we continued our lousy trend of getting lost on the winding streets of Ocala and their highways and state roads that all seem to run concurrent of each other and then split off like they were diagrammed by a dyslexic electician.  Steve wanted to get a pair of Converse sneakers, but he was looking for the old-style white ones, not the black Chuck Taylor ones that are fairly ubiquitous.  So we happened into Shoe Carnival, and while Steve was looking around, I headed back to a rack marked "Clearance" to see what they had.  I take a size 13, and they had a pair of Rockports, brown, and a nice looking pair of shoes, I might add.  They were originally $89.99, and I've never paid that much for a pair of shoes in my life, and I never will.  But they were marked down to $49.00, and that's a $40.00 savings.

Now, I'm generally a frugal man when it comes to such things.  I don't make a lot of money doing standup comedy, but I know a deal when I see one.  And I had to think hard on this purchase.  I flipped a coin, measured the weight in my mind, and finally picked them up and headed to the sales counter.  On the way, I noticed that one of the shoes was missing a lace.  A brown lace, for a brown shoe.

I met Adam, the store manager, and I said "Adam, I am interested in these shoes from your clearance rack, but I notice that one of 'em is missing a lace.  What can we do about this?"  I figured Adam would conjure up a pair of laces, hand me one, toss out the spare and chalk it up to the cost of doing business.  But I guess that must have been ruled out when the price was slashed so severely on June 1st, 2007, the date of the first clearance sticker on the box.

Adam looks at me, looks at the shoes, and with the soul of a used-car dealer says, "Listen here. I don't have any brown laces, but I will mark these down to $29.99 and you can get yourself a pair somewhere else, Wal*Mart or somewhere, deal?"  $30.89 later, your pal Ralphie is walking out of Shoe Carnival with some kickin' waterproof Rockports.  So now the fun begins.  We headed over to Wal*Mart, and no brown laces in stock.  We headed to the Paddock Mall, and hit every store that had shoes, but no brown laces.  The first shoe store actually had an "orphan" box of laces, and I asked the clerk to hold on to a pair that were flat, not round, but just a little shorter than the original laces.  After a day's walk through the mall, Steve had acquired a pair of white Converse All-Stars and I headed back to Shoe World or whatever the name of the store was to retrieve my brown laces.  The clerk, a strawberry-blonde-haired beauty, handed me the laces, and I said "What's the damage?" to which she replied "Take them.  They don't have a bar code so I wouldn't know what to charge you anyway."

I wore them on stage tonight, and they looked and felt great.  $90.00 Rockports for $30.00.  I doubt that even my lovely wife, Pammey "Discount" Davis, could have done a better job.  And she'll try running a coupon through a Coke machine if nobody's looking.  And that's the first and last shoe story that you'll ever get out of me, I promise!

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY

 

Cinderella Man

Cinderella Man                                                8747  (1957)

Saturday, August 18, 2007-11:15 A.M.

Boy, I will be one happy camper when summer is over.  Comedy in the summer BLOWS.

You can tell that I'm not that much into the summer as I've only been blogging once a week or so....that's a far cry from my original goal of "every day" which I quickly learned is a ridiculous goal.

So last Friday, Steve Natarelli and I ventured up into Niagara Falls, on the U.S. side, and did guest spots at Fatboy's Comedy Club, where I was actually supposed to be headlining for money all this past week.  The show drew exactly six people, and then some more folks trickled in, including a group of folks who were just going out to get a drink, not necessarily looking for comedy, but to commemorate the one year anniversary of their mother's passing.  Fun times, eh?  With six people in the audience, we decided to do some time for them anyway, because they made the trip out and nobody wanted to cancel.

"Evil Jim" from one of the Buffalo radio stations went on first after mc Bernie Rice rolled out ten minutes of the "I'm getting killed over here!" stock lines.  I don't know how much time or money he had invested in the club, but he wasn't making any of it back that night.  Jim turned in a short set, not very emotional but almost like in a "let's get this thing over with" sort of way.  I went up, same crowd, and did half an hour like I was taping a live album.  I started out doing some improv, but they really wanted to hear jokes, so I did my act, peppering it with conversation.  The thing I was sure they wouldn't buy was exactly what they wanted.  Live and learn, I guess.

Steve did his show and then closer James Middleton, who supposedly has been around forever but who I'd never heard of before, did his 20 minutes and got off, and then it was back to Rochester for Steve and myself.  It's important to get those comedy repetitions in or the muscles of the mind go soft.

Sunday I made the scene at Boulder Coffee Company and my wife got a little cranky that I was going, thinking that it should be a "family night."  Well, I've had so much time off this summer, *every* night is a family night!  I need to WORK!  I'm starting to feel like one of those humps in the movie "Cinderella Man" lined up at the docks and they only need nine guys, but there's 150 guys standing there.  Enough, already!

Anyway, the set was good enough....I found an old set list, circa 1995 or so, and I blew the dust off about half the bits and they still played.  I need to start investigating some of my old tapes and see if there are bits that I've forgotten or that have fallen into disuse and can be rejuvenated.  New material is great, but I've already done the work on a lot of stuff over the last 19 years, and I shouldn't let that work go to waste.

Tuesday, I hosted open mike at the Comix Cafe, and it was a "fuck or fight" crowd, complete with two young, drunk heckler chicks sitting in the front row, except for when they were running outside to smoke.  It was disruptive for them to keep getting up so many times during the show, but at least it was a small respite from the one girl's constant yelling out of "Hey-YO!" which the last I looked was an Ed McMahon catchprase from the old Johnny Carson show which went off the air when this bitch was six years old.  One of the open micers brought his buddies from work, and they basically talked through everyone's set and then left as soon as he was done.  There was absolutely no ettiquette to be found, and very exasperating to say the least.  The kid was all juiced that he had friends coming, but that's the worst thing you can do when you're new in the business...friends in the audience don't help, they make you nervous, and when you bomb (and all new guys bomb), you have to hear it from them at your day job/school/wherever you know these humps from.  Not a very good combination.

Wednesday, I was running errands all day and had settled down to get ready for some dinner, when the bell rang for Yours Truly as a call came in from the Comix Cafe.  Seems their regular host, WCMF's Tommy Mule was on vacation or something and couldn't make it, and how soon could I be there?  Showtime was 8:30, and it was five after eight, and I made it there with three minutes to spare.  It was nice to pick up the extra money, especially since my pay for running open mic Tuesdays had been cut.  Well, the Wednesday show was more of the same from Tuesday, almost like the Tuesday audience had trained the Wednesday people how to act, and even though we were working on the main stage, in a room with proper lighting, pre-show music and the like, they were still a little rowdy and inattentive, until I started shouting at them, which got them focused.  Matt Bergman, our feature this week, and Bob Jay, our headliner, both turned in admirable sets but the 140 folks in the room were a tough sell.

One of the funniest moments of the night was after the show, I was hanging out in the lounge with Matt as he was peddling his comedy CD to interested audience folks, and traffic at his table was so light, at one point, a guy playing billiards nearby set his beer glass down on Matt's table while he was shooting.  I guess since it looked like nobody was using the table that there was no harm done.  Matt laughed it off and I promised him that this would go in the blog, and here it is.  Ta Da!

Friday I returned to the road for my first actual sleepover gig in what seems like months (actually five weeks) and headed out to Reading, Pennsylvania, home of the Reading Comedy Outlet.  It's a five hour drive from Rochester, unless you count construction delays, and then it turns into six or more.  I ran into a hassle on the route 80 heading east and decided to four-wheel it on some back roads, and lucked myself into a route that dove-tailed right into 61 south, which heads right into Reading.  I had plenty of time to get ready for the 9 PM show, treating myself to a shave and a hot shower...my back insisted on reminding me that six hour drives are a young man's game, and I'm not in that age class anymore.  Hot water always seems to do the trick for me, though, and I'm suspicious that a lot of it might actually be in my mind.

We had a decent turnout for the show, and afterwards, headliner Auggie Cook and I compared notes; it seemed that the crowd was awfully fickle as to what they would respond to, and I noticed early that dirty material was not so much what they wanted, so I worked away from it, and actually still wound up doing some sexual material, but "walked around" the topic, which they appreciated.  I had applause breaks and silence in the same set!  It was very weird, to say the least.

One last note....gas here is $2.56!  I paid $2.69 when I got off of route 80 and thought I was the king, and then saw it at WaWa for 13 cents cheaper!  I'm tempted to go buy a very large gas can and fill'er up for the ride home back to Rochester, home of $2.94 unleaded and you have to be a wholesale club member to get THAT.

Alright.  One more show tonight and then it's back home for a couple of days before I return to Florida, and some decent-paying road work....plus, my second airline flight of the year....whoo-HOO!  Cramped seat, recycled air and luke-warm beverage service, HERE I COME!

Up The Irons!

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY