As of now, I’m officially off the road for 6 weeks. I’ve been gone every week and/or weekend since June & as I sit in the “Park-N-Fly” shuttle as it drops me off at my car, it’s kinda bittersweet. It’s like I pressed “Pause” on my life back home and returned 6.5 months later just to un-pause.

But things have done changed in 6.5 months. Life ain’t what it was back then. I feel like I’m visiting.

Hotels and planes are all I’ve known for over 6 months. Ears popping. Kids crying. Continental breakfasts. Housekeeping knockers. Economy rentals. 12 pillows on one bed. Driving from one time zone into another without knowing. Sweet-talking gate agents to let me board when I’m too late to board. The entire first-class cabin wondering what I did to deserve sitting next to them.

Before I took off in it, I thought I’d hate it but somewhere around mid-October I fell in love with being on the road. I hated coming home.

I’ll miss it.
Alot

—

I performed at some college some
months back and they told me they had a Squirrel Watchers Society called “Squatchers”. I instantly felt bad. Bad for the guy who’s spent the last 2 semesters following one squirrel in particular, only to find out that it was a chipmunk.

—

Can we admit that the potato isn’t a vegetable? Anytime said vegetable is in a “salad” that consists of eggs, pickles, and mayonnaise? Eggs, pickles AND mayonnaise? That’s what a redneck bleeds when you cut him

—

I also think it’s time to change the national anthem. Our current one is too hard to sing & very hard to remember. That’s why I’m nominating Sir Mix-Alot’s “Baby Got Back”. Cuz everyone knows atleast the 1st verse. I may not remember to “gallantly stream” but I CAN remember to “Uh-Double Up-Uh-Uh”. Plus “Baby Got Back” pays homage to the present and the past. Cuz right now in America, we’re in the midst of an obesity epidemic so there’s alotta “big butts”. And “I cannot lie”? That’s what our founding father George Washington said after he chopped down the cherry tree.

(Applause Break)

You’re welcome

Let me set the scene:

I’m in Missouri, driving down 55 South on my way to the Drury Lodge in Cape Girardeau. Later tonight I’ll be performing at Southeast Missouri State University as part of their end-of-the-year comedy extravaganza. Now if only 6 people show up, it won’t be much of an extravaganza, merely a lightly attended vaganza, of which I’m highly experienced in

Left hand is on the steering wheel. Foo Fighters’ “White Limo” is playing on the cd player of my (hold on to your seats) white Nissan Versa. Right hand is blogging.

Texting and driving is illegal but blogging isn’t. Neither is uploading kitten videos on YouTube or placing bids on eBay or adding virtual glitter to your MySpace homepage. All are allowed and encouraged while behind the wheel of an automobile.

Joking aside, some kid in some state at some school that I said some jokes in, told me that texting is illegal but using smart phone apps isn’t. It’s supposed to allow you to use your GPS without receiving a fine.

But this kid said “apps”, which I took to mean that I was allowed to drive AND try to defeat the 2nd level of Angry Birds .. I just wasn’t allowed to drive and TEXT someone that I just defeated the 2nd level of Angry Birds.

—

After hitting up countless cities/towns throughout the US these past few months, I discovered this:

• The less trees you have, the more Applebees you do

• The less Applebees you have, the more Amish you do

• The less Amish you have, the more minorities you do

• The less minorities you have, the more trees you do

—

Some of the Applebees restaurants in these smaller cities advertise on their marquee “Tuesday is Ladies Night”.

“Ladies Night” at Applebees: For the online dater who never had a computer.

—

Ever been halfway thru an argument and regretted ever getting into it in the 1st place? That’s been my experience in every argument I’ve had in 2011. Here’s to 2012: The year of the satisfying heated debate.

—

If I call that number on the back of semis that says “How’s my driving? Dial 1-800 …” does the driver pick up?

—

Watching couples eat out in public and not say a word to each other evokes the same amount of sadness in my heart as those Sarah McLachlan caged puppy commercials. To quote my mom: “Too many people date too long THEN get married. They spend all this time asking questions about each other then when they get married, they run out of stuff to talk about. I’ve been with your father for 41 years and just last year I found out he was lactose-intolerant!”

Dr. Phil ain’t got shit on Leelamma Varghese.

The title of this post is in reference to the phrase “Hair of the dog” which refers to drinking even more after a hangover to cure said hangover. 

Considering that I haven’t blogged in over 2 years symbolizes a creative-writing hangover of sorts, so what better way to get out of it then to start creatively-writing again?

Since I last blogged, I’ve been on TV a couple of times (Showtime & Comedy Central), am still traveling over the country doing clubs/shows and such, and right now am in the midst of a crazy road-intensive college run (70 plus cities in about 100 days). I planned on video-blogging my experience of my travels and travails of writing a new act but then got so self-conscious about it that I decided to watch Man Vs. Food instead

So today, I’m taking step One back into creativity by re-introducing my blog.

Welcome.

I’ll be a bit rusty for a week or so until I find my groove. 

In the time that my blog was on hiatus, I fueled all my creative energy into (www.twitter.com/paulvarghese) and (www.facebook.com/paulandoates). It’s a nice catalog of silly thoughts/one-liners/observations I’ve made in that time.

Now normally these blogs will be filled with random ramblings, but since this is my first one back, it’ll be more linear. 

—

Right now I’m at a Super 8 Motel in Indianola, Iowa. I’ve got a show tonight at Simpson College. As has been the case this entire college run, I have no clue what to expect tonight. All these shows are free for all college students so the turnouts can vary from 8 to 250. I’ve had great and terrible shows performing for either of those sizes. I’ve found that since I spend all day traveling (plane .. car .. pogo stick ..) that I tend to have little to no social interaction, outside of customer service, until the show that night. So in my head, my entire opinion of said day is based on how good the show goes. 

Is that healthy? Who knows. If I was all about health, I wouldn’t be addicted to cherry sours.

—

I finally saw the movie “Up In The Air” and minus the George Clooney looks, charisma, and array of suits, that’s pretty dead-on to my life. 

I’ve officially travelled enough to where I found myself on the plane bitching out loud to myself, to where everyone could hear me, about the 3-year old who was trying to sound out every word in his Clifford the Big Red Dog novel.  I guess that’s cute if it’s your kid but it’s still strange to me that parents now have no problem letting their kids speak as loud as they want to in public as if we’re all gonna find it adorable and try to record that moment on our iPhones. I blame the ignorance of these parents on that ONE person in public who does make a fuss about it and feels the need to smile and tell the parent about their nephew/grandchild/komodo dragon pup who does similar things.

I wasn’t allowed to speak outloud in public because my parents thought I’d say something stupid/awkward that they’d have to laugh it off just as awkwardly or defend it to whoever got pissed. That might explain why I now have a career where I use a public forum to say stupid/awkward things and then when the crowds don’t laugh, I have to laugh it off or defend it just as awkwardly.

—

The documentary “Marathon Boy” is about to pop up on HBO. It’s about a little Indian kid who’s training to be a long-distance runner. 

I’m watching for 2 reasons:

1) Because it’s filmed in India and I always like seeing shots from back in the motherland. 

2) Who knew that all those years I spent running from my mom’s wooden spoon/flyswatter/tree branch/sandal/ashy hand that I could’ve harnessed that athletic prowess for potential Olympic gold?

Films based in India always make me feel less and less Indian (even if I am ingesting chicken biriani and garlic pickle at the time).  

But, you know what’s less Indian than my inner dialogue? The fact that the Halle Berry movie “Catwoman” is right before it? Who’s in charge of the programming schedule at HBO? Does any other job scream “pulling slips of paper out of a hat” than that one? I wanna meet the person who’s into both of those movies. Who deems this the perfect 3 hours of entertainment ever slapped together? The only thing both movies have in common is brown skin. And ONE of these movies has their main character’s brown skin covered in leather. 

(Oh and you’re sick if you think it’s the little Indian kid. After all, he’s probably Hindu which means he’s anti-Cowskin anyway.)

When I see terrible movies like “Catwoman”, I always think of the people who went to see this on opening day and loved it. The people who actually own this on DVD. I wonder who they are. 

And then I’m reminded that people actually call in to vote for “American Idol” and my questions are answered.

Gotta go .. “SlumJog Millionaire” is about to start.