The Truth About The Seattle International Comedy Competition:
The only viable reason I have for telling “The Truth” is to keep me out of the back of a squad car. Everything else that comes out of my mouth is a translation of facts and occurrences designed to land the things I want from minute to minute; booze, girlfriends, car rides and Milky Way candy bars. Every good story needs some extra juice to distract you from whatever my hidden agenda is (in this case, to get you to read and subscribe to my Boozecoma Humor Blog http://boozecoma.wordpress.com/2009/10/30/how-to-read-an-online-job-posting and as the winner of The Seattle International Comedy Competition http://seattlecomedycompetition.com/winners.php as well as 2 time host and emcee of the contest, I have several tales that I tell about my experiences that have augmented from actual occurrence to showstopper story. Here are some of the stories followed by what is most likely recorded on the police report.
Interview With A Vampire:
H. Clay Jones was the Seattle Comedy Competition’s minister of cool in addition to being an important part of the operational machine running the contest. Mr. Jones is also a card-carrying vampire http://vampireadvice.com .
H. and I were out one night after the contest’s early rounds and were able to con 2 girls into taking us back to their apartment using the vampire angle in addition to the normal M.O. of Irish Car Bombs http://irishcarbomb.com and Senior level bullshit. Once there we were treated to a heinous buzz killing parade of Duran Duran albums and Chi Chi’s margarita mix. Somehow we had to cut the cord on the slumber party and get on to “Fuck Street.” I pointed at the clock and said we need to get down to business before H. Clay turned to stone at sunrise and became too heavy to move. I am not sure if it was the threat of heavy lifting or the fear of not getting their deposit back, but I have never seen panties hit the floor that fast. We were able to contain our laughter until we sped away from this caper less than an hour later.
H. Clay Jones is indeed a vampire. After drinking in various bars around Seattle, H. Clay and I got some late night breakfast. Checking the time, I remarked “The sun’s coming up. Do we need to go before you turn to stone?”
After breezing through the first round of the Seattle International Comedy Competition, the second round proved to be more of a challenge. The 1st night of round 2 I was lost on stage and barely made the minimum time by 1 second (going under would be the same as going over your time-thus deducting points). I was able to battle my way back to contention but on the 6th and final night of the semi-finals the top 4 spots were all but locked up and your truly was in a rugby scrum with 2 other comics for the final spot the finals. My closest competitor was DJ Hazard
I huddled in the back corner of the Comedy Underground
I honestly don’t remember much about that night other than the huddling in the back, as I had stayed out all night drinking in what I thought would be my last night in town. DJ picked up the work 2 days later.
Sweet Connie Doing Her Act
During the semi-finals we played a show in a Bellingham WA. mall. There was a girl at the show determined to fuck one of the comics that night and she made the rounds trying her luck on each comic. If this was a normal road show and you did not have to face everybody the next day, somebody would have jumped on this train wreck. This was not the case, so everyone was acting non-chalant waiting for chance to break from the pack and add this state to the “special” map that comics keep of road conquests. The passive-aggressive party carried out into the parking lot giving the comic hosting the semi-finals the opportunity to make his move. Before I left the scene I told the host to let me smell his finger the next day and he did me one better by “Jack Horner-ing” this cooze’s
That went down pretty much as I explained it. The host’s name was left out to keep him from spending the night sleeping in his car…
Gimme Gimmie Gimmie
You have no idea how much weight being the Seattle Comedy Competition winner carries. When I arrived in Seattle to host a segment of the competition 2 years ago, I mentioned what I was doing in town to the car rental agent who as it turns out was a comic. He upgraded my bullshit mid-sized rental to a FUCKING MUSTANG! He must have alerted the authorities of my arrival because I blew right past a cop on I-5 doing 110, and he never gave me a second look. I also scored a free bootleg Clash DVD from a Tacoma record store plus never dug into my pocket once for a drink.
They were out of the car I rented, the clerk at the record store never looked up from his gaming magazine but I did drive 110 mph past a cop. The cop was going the opposite direction on the other side of the highway and was most likely a security guard.