It's Monday night, I just came from the Upper West Side and tried to get on stage. Nothing. I did the open mic at New York Comedy Club earlier tonight, I tried some new stuff out, some worked. Overall it was a good and productive night. I went out drinking the other night with Andre. We went into some cool little dive called “101 on Seventh”. It was fun. I drank and danced. Some stupid girl started dancing with me and then started freakin me. Good Times. I was having fun, she was cute, nice little body. She was rubbing her ass on my noughty bits, my twig and berries, my frank and beans. I kept dancing and drinking. She got behind me and started rubbing my chest, my legs, and my crotch…Good Times. She was pinching my nipples and getting really freaky. She got on her knees and did her best Lewinsky impression. I, of course, still clothed, kept getting jiggy with it. The band started playing “Get your freaka on”, by Missy Elliot. Then they said “Give it up to the crazy couple! That's it for us, have a good night!” And they stopped playing. The whole room was quite, really quite. So I yelled, “You can't stop now! I haven't came yet!” Neeedless to say the whole room laughed and started clapping. This is the funny part, ready? The girl gets away from behind me and lets go of my ass and says, “You jerk!” And she leaves. People get offended at the weirdest shit! I didn't get her number. Oh well. I spent a little too much money this past week, I think I'll stay at the shelter for another three weeks. Yeah, I know. But it's all good! Work has been gruelling. The Austin Powers movie came out this weekend, I was supervising the main concession stand. Thirteen registers, fifteen employees, and four screens showing Austin Powers. Rough weekend.

I looked at two apartments today. They were ok. I'm hoping to move out in the next couple of weeks. I can't take this shelter bullshit anymore. Everyday I come “home” to a bunch of ingnorant, ex-convict, trash talking, errogant assholes. And that's just the staff. Then there's the “residents”, the ones that live there. They act just like the staff, except they don't have jobs. I'm fuckin sick of that place. I haven't saved up as much money as I would've liked, but I need to get out.
“This train conversation keeps passing me by.”
Andre, my old roommate had gotten kicked out about four days ago. He slept on the trains most of the time. He's a soldier, that's for sure. When I was kicked out, I got a fuckin hotel room. Fuck that. I've slept on the streets, on the trains, in buses. I wasn't going to do that again. Especially if I had money.
I really don't feel like working today. Tommorow's payday, I hope I got my raise. I don't I did. There's supervisors that have been waiting for months and still, nothing. I need that money, I need to look for another job, or a part time gig. The only problem is I need to keep getting on stage. That's a must. That's my therapy. I can't give that up. I started working on my act last night, just jotting down ideas. I have tons of material I haven't even tried out yet. There's an open mic tonight at Glady's, but I'm working. I just got my new schedule and I can get on stage twice next week on Monday and Wednesday. I'm happy for that. Plus I hope I can find an apartment by then so I can get back whenever I feel like it. Andre is supposed to look at one tonight. Right now he's getting some legal matters resolved. I hope we find something together, that sure will help on the rent, that's for sure. Ok, I better do something productive while I'm online, maybe some beastiality porn. See ya!

There, in the same stage where Seinfeld, Chris Rock, Tim Allen, Drew Carey, Brett Butler and many others have set foot to speak to a dim lit room. I rocked the stage with the timing of a common house fly, with the attitude of a stubborn high school teacher, and with the comedic precision and talent of the others that stood before me in the past years.
I did good tonight. Put me in a room with 30 “pres-piring” comics and see who brings the laughs. ME! I'm the best! I rocked, yeah, yeah. I did a little bit of this, a little bit of that, some new stuff, some of my classics, and a little bit of improv. The guy after me, “Caffiene Man” couldn't follow my act even with his elaborate Starbucks jokes. I was the talk of the Open Mic! Guys came up, shook my hand, did the “tilted head” nod that you give to someone when they just knocked a guy out with one punch. That was me… Superstar. I need to go home and write. I can't wait to get on stage again with some new stuff. I've got the skills to make millions of dollars! I am the greatest! Ok, I better get back to the Homeless Shelter. If I'm not there in 30 minutes I'll be sleeping in the subway.
========================== Holla!!!!!! ============================