Pictures from the Connecticut Weekend

There are reasons I could give for wanting to live in Connecticut.  It’s very clean, everyone drives very nice cars, the women seem pretty, the beer is cheaper than Jersey, and there are reasons that keep me from ever leaving my home state for more than a week or so at a time.  Namely, that in Connecticut is perfectly acceptable to dress like this:

Now I’m not exactly a fashionista, in fact, I’ve been accused of dressing like a homeless man on more than one occasion (I generally don’t care what color matches with what, which can result in a multi-colored, multi-layered, dirty hoodied ensemble), but I’ve never looked this bad.  Not even on laundry day.  To make matters worse, there were actually other people at this show, dressed just as badly as he was.  I even got them to pose together.

Blue shirt? Pink shorts?  Nothing says hilarious like an outfit reminiscient of chewing gum cigars for expectant fathers.  Are you fucking kidding me.  Aside from how people dress, they also act strange.  I got drunk and left my digital camera on our table when I went out to go smoke.  When I returned it was not where I had left it.  I automatically assumed that Sal or Shuli had photographed their penis, and put my camera back. 

 

Sadly, it was even less childish than that.

The people at the next table, used the camera to take photos of themselves, as if they were actually ever going to see the pictures.  The worse part is, they’re not even good photos.  They’re awful and out of focus.  If Michael J. Fox were a wedding photographer, this is what his portfolio would look like:

If they gave a Pulitzer prize for stupid, whoever took these photos would be the hands-down odds-on favorite for 2007.

The shows were packed both nights, and as such, I ran into a little trouble with seating.  Namely, the Miserable Men Intern, Rachel, took my seat.  Sat in it. Right next to my girlfriend, and then wondered how I could be upset.  Previously she had taken Shuli’s seat, as evidenced by the bright yellow Howard 100 news jacket on the back of the chair.

The napkins at the restaurant matched the color so perfectly we tucked one into his breast pocket like a folded handkerchief.  Apparently, when he was done with his emcee set, she thought she’d give him his chair back and plop down into mine while I performed, which would have been fine had she ever given it back.

Right next to Jess.

The girl, Rachel, even had the balls to question my resume when I casually remarked, “Well, at least the Intern is sitting.”  Who am I?  I’m the guy that rocked 1200 people at the Electric Factory, I’m the guy who won Kill or Be Killed, I’m the guy who actually pissed someone off so much they voted “FUCK YOU” instead of a number between 1-10 in the first Philly’s Phunniest competition.  I’m Chris Mc-Mother-Fucking-Devitt, a raging egomaniac, who also happens to never speak up for himself at all.

Seriously, if it’s not actual physical violence, I bottle it up.  I don’t even honk my car horn at people.  I’m a repressed mess.  Hang loose, bro.

Still aside from that everyone had a great time, and great sets.

People outside even wanted their picture taken with me, though admittedly none of them could really remember my name.  There was a lot of “Hey funny guy, smile, you’re funny, funny smiling guy.”

I cross my arms like this so you don’t touch the goods, sir.

All in all it was a decent weekend, aside from the chair stealing and shitty motel room.  Oh, and I forgot, my ninjas, Bob Levy had a message he wanted me to give you.

“Buy my porno.”– Bob Levy

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~ by chrismcdevitt on August 23, 2007.

One Response to “Pictures from the Connecticut Weekend”

  1. Hi. Thank you.

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