When Will the Madness End?

The answer is tonight, actually. But, I guess I'm talking about a different type of madness than March Madness. I won't money this with my brackets, which if you know me is exciting because I choose basketball teams like your mom. "That one, with the colors." Sure, there's the general sense of world madness, but I wouldn't touch that situation even if you paid me me Stormy Daniels-type money. And threatened me in a parking lot. What I'm talking about is the crazy situation happening down south, past my belly button and above my kidneys. If you hit my balls, you've gone too far (or in some rare cases, not far enough!).

Now, I'm not alone in thinking that my brain might be controlling my stomach. I once heard that the world was gonna end in 2012, and then my stomach hurt for months. The world didn't end in 2012 cause the Mayans don't know crap! More like Nostradumbass! (I get hit by lightning after writing this.) No, what I'm clamoring on about is my psyche. There's so much wrong with me mentally that my therapist thinks there's nothing wrong with me. I said "You're confusing unwillingness to share with nothing to share," and he said... nothing because I didn't say that to him. I probably said something like "Ok." I gotta get better at that. Personal growth, Charlie. Stay in your lane. Talk to the guy. He's taking your money.

Anyway, Happy Pesach and Happy Easter! Easter? I hardly know her. Haha, just kidding, I know her. She went to school with me. Easter and Passover fell on nearly the same day this year. And no one was more confused than the staff at Walgreens. "How come the shelves are empty? Did people actually buy that crappy bread? And hey look, the Matzah's gone too." That was a Peeps joke. Nailed it like Jesus to the cross. It's ok, he lived or something.  We don't quite know. What we do know is that both holidays involve eggs and looking for hidden things, which, if you think about it, is what life is truly about... Man, eggs are so good. And hidden things are good too. Sometimes. That's for my therapist to decide.

Spring Cleaning Spree

Ok, what did I miss?

Wow, I gotta stop going away for so long. I basically forgot my password to get back on here. Remembered it at the last second, though, good 'ole 123456 hasn't let me down yet.

I've been busy in my absence from this far away place, deep cleaning my apartment and my colon. That's right, I had a colonscopy, which, in Latin, roughly tranlates to colon guided tour. (I had a really spunky freshman leading the way. High hopes I'll get into Colon College.) I got one because people dying around me hasn't made me feel old enough yet. And that's including the fact that I was born a forty year old woman who is slowly self-realizing that right now. I cleaned my bathroom right after because after you prepare for a colonoscopy, you need to clean your bathroom.

The preparation is the worst part, followed by the 2.5 hour wait to be seen by a "licensed professional." You know how much hungry and tired people love to wait, right? Because the night before, you basically drink a gallon of human approved Draino and then try to go to sleep. Alternatively, tide pods will clean you out as well. Life hack! #tidead Around glass 12 or 13, you get good at drinking the stuff, only to find out that you have like 1 glass left. Practice makes perfect, and this stuff makes you poop. Well, it's more like peeing out of your ass. You've heard of talking out of your ass; well, this is everything out of your ass.

The procedure itself is really no big deal. Someone sticks a camera up your butt and takes pictures, a person I'm calling "the pooparazzi." The hardest part was reconfirming my birthday for every God damn person I met. It hasn't changed, you morons. For the rest of it, they administer Propofol and you're out cold. That's the drug Michael Jackson died from. I didn't die, but I did wake up and learn that I had starred in a Pepsi commercial. Turns out, I'd been hit by a "Poop Criminal."

When you wake up, you fart for a while and feel squeaky clean. Or as I call it, Wednesday. You grab whatever drink they've given you, and then someone takes you home to eat something. Everything tastes good cause it's all food. Remember food? So good, that stuff. When all is said and done, you've been violated with a camera and charged $200, or as I call it, Wednesday. 

The results of my stomach thing came back fine, so now we think it's stress. That's probably it. I am a nervous person. Always have been. Always will be. So we will see, I guess. I'll figure it out. How hard can managing stress be, guys? Guys? GUYS?!!

The bathroom was its own beast, needing some absolutely warranted tender love and care, or TLC, only in this case, we wanted scrubs. And I took every cleaning solution we had and scrubbed my watery colonoscopy poop from the windows. There's no more more hair down the sink drain or up my butt. Just kidding, there's still a lot of hair up my butt. I do not manscape. Sometimes, I flick the hairs down there in the shower and watch them go down the drain. That's called flickscaping, and it sounds less like a grooming technique and more like a movie streaming platform. I'll make that for next week. I've gotten the bathroom cleaned, and I've been eating regular meals off of the floor ever since. That won't affect my stomach at all, will it? Let's wait till next week to find out.  Bye!!

Where the Hell Have I Been?

Hi! Hello! How are you? No, you're not crazy. I've been MIA for the month of February, and by that I mean I've been recording music. I know I missed Valentine's Day. I wanted to say that I did buy a single rose for my girlfriend. Because nothing screams LOVE like watching a plant die together. Besides that, I missed the Olympics. I just didn't watch any of it. If I were to win a medal, it would be in 'not watching the olympics.' There, I said it!

The reason I've been MIA is that I've been  trying to get my stomach under control. Last year, it was cancer; this year, it's like severe IBS or something. No one knows. I'll be pushing more out about this in the following weeks, but suffice to say that I got a colonoscopy and that wasn't fun. It wasn't funny either. And that's what we're here to try to be, isn't it?

Let me figure some stuff out and get back to you. I'll be the butt of the joke in no time. Butt first, let me figure a few things out about the stomach I now have. It's the same one from before, only it's hangrier. You get it!

DIY Guy: Clogged Sink

Well, I'm from Philadelphia, so when I woke up at noon on Monday after partying all night, the first thing I said was "Ew, I need to clean up in here. And whose ceramic goat is this?" I don't normally buy ceramic goats, so I knew it wasn't mine. One thing that I did know, however, was that I had to fix, almost immediately, the bathroom sink. It's been clogged since way before the Super Bowl. Maybe I should've called the Eagles over and told them that the drain was every other team in the NFL. They would've knocked that clog right outta there. #flyeaglesfly #slipperywhengreased

Now, I can't afford Drano, the good stuff, so I went online and looked up what I could do that I had at home, like an old wives tale, as the misogynistic saying goes. I remembered watching a video a few months back about unclogging a drain, but my hungover brain couldn't find it in my Facebook activity. The internet came to the rescue and immediately showed me how to use salt, vinegar, lemon/lime juice, and boiling water to unclog a drain.

It's not hard. You mix the salt and vinegar (equal parts) and add the lemon/lime juice for acidity. (Note: the salt will not dissolve. Don't waste time by not understanding chemistry and stirring for 10 minutes. Afterwards, I had to do what I did in chemistry class and fall asleep.) Then, you pour it down whatever drain is clogged, and let it sit for 15-30 minutes. The clog marinates in the ersatz vinaigrette that you've created and breaks up like unfaithful spouses; in the bathroom. Finally, you just need to pour boiling hot water down the drain. Careful of splash back. I've literally been burned before.

You're wondering if it works right now. I can report that, yes, it kind of works. The water used to sit in the sink and now goes down. I should say that I did two rounds of it, but I think I took a page out of the government's playbook and partially fixed the issue. I was impressed, because basically, I took things from the kitchen and fixed it. I threw everything but the kitchen sink at it, because two clogs don't make a right. I didn't follow all the rules because I'm not a cuck. I am my own person. But hey, moral of the story is that it kind of works, if you don't mind the number one complaint on the Titanic today: a salty sink.

Join me next time on DIY Guy, a segment that I'm starting right here, right now. Maybe next time, I'll tell you how to remove a stain from a shirt. #TideAd It's helpful, sort of.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Birthday Wishes

Today is my birthday! Please, hold your applause. I can't hear it. What I'd like to do is help you out. I'm willing to bet that you've had a couple of birthdays in your time, too. $50, take it or leave it. This isn't the helping you part. Sorry, I'm a gambler. Anyway, here is my help. I would like to break down the different birthday wishes that one receives on the ever-consuming app of Facebook.

Remember Facebook? You got here from there. This is a breakdown of your (and my) friends' wishes and what they really mean:

Happy Birthday - This is the one that I call plain and simple. It says "Hey, I know you, and I like you just fine." It's comforting.

Happy Birthday! - Ah, here we go. An exclamation point is key in a good birthday message. The more exclamation points that there are, the more excited you are to see one another and wish them a Happy Birthday. But don't overdo it. This one conveys that "You and I are close, and we always have a time when we see each other."

Happy Birthday!!!!!!!! - This one overdoes it. It might as well say "I was high and saw your name on Facebook. Lol." Totally disrespectful.

happy birthday - This one is getting into the business of becoming informal. It says "Listen, Facebook told me that you were born today, but I wouldn't have cared otherwise." 

Happy Happy Birthday! - As if doubling down on the word happy makes the day better, this person wants nothing but the best for you and to let you know that, at 12:01 A.M., they are still up, always fun, and he first one to post on your timeline. "We still down to rent a party limo?" It screams.

Happy Birthday! Hope you had a good day! - A desperate cry for attention, this person wants to make it publicly known that they are wishing you a happy birthday, as they try to reconnect with you after not speaking to you for four years. It basically reads as "Remember high school or college?" It's only a little pathetic.

Happy bday - I mean, why would you even? Is there a worse, less thought out message than this? If there is, I don't want to read it. This should always be followed by "How do we know each other?"

Hope all of this helps when you have a birthday. If not, I don't know what to say. I'm trying here. Let me know how it goes.

Pop Quiz!

If you're like me, you've been inspecting the cultural zeitgeist with a fine tooth comb. You're not like me? That's a shame. Well, what you may have uncovered is that there is a new trend out there. A bunch of new apps have hit the market, all of which claim the same thing: that you can win money by answering trivia questions. The most famous of these games is, you guessed it, HQ.

If you don't know what HQ is, it's an app that lets you win real, free money for answering multiple choice questions twice a day during the week and once a day during the weekend. It's like Who Wants to be a Millionaire, if you had to play Who Wants to be a Millionaire about 100,000 times to become a millionaire. What happens is this: you answer a possible 12 questions, of increasing difficulty, and each player gets locked out if/when they are wrong. So you could start with 1,100,000 players and end up with 147. Then, those 147 people who got all 12 questions right each split the top prize: $2,500. So, they each walk away with a whopping $17.01. It's like a reverse $25,000 Pyramid scheme.

The game is hosted by two or three New York based comedians and comediennes. They each read a teleprompter and deliver the worst (best?) HQ inspired and current events influenced puns. All in all, the game lasts about 15 minutes and uses upwards of 60 MB of data. So I would advise you find WiFi if you don't have unlimited data. My family plan doesn't have unlimited data, and I work for the government. The WiFi was the first thing to go in the shutdown, followed by all non-essential personnel.

If you are thinking of signing up, why not help me by doing so? Enter this code at the start: Chuckchuckgoose3. That's my username, and it lets them know that I sent ya! Think of it as a way to repay me for all of the wonderful content you've enjoyed on here, since I don't have a way to monetize this blog yet. But, maybe, if I win HQ like 98,405 times, I won't need your help. Ahh, that's the dream. Anyway, happy quizzing! Let me know if you win anything, and we can further spilt your $8.05.

The Week of Me

Whoops! I seem to have skipped a week. Sorry about that. I had to take care of a family emergency. Are we all ok? Not right now, but in time, yes, we will be. However, as the terminator prophesized about himself, I'm back! No more hasta-ing la vista, for me. No sir! Or should I say No madam! #TimesUp 

I guess what I want to talk about this week is... drumroll please... ME! (I'm a bit narcissistic, look it up in a much earlier post on here) Now, I know what you're asking? "Charlie, what makes this week different from every other week, all of which you refer to as "the week of Me?" Glad you asked in thought.  I have three shows this week, the first one being tonight. I'm in two shows that you'll see me in and one that you won't. How can I be in a show that you won't see me in? I wrote for it. Much like any boats with holes in the bottoms, I'll plug them below.

Why do I tell you all this? To rub it in your faces that I'm doing stuff? Nope. I share this because it's not every day that I get to be a part of three shows in one week. I enjoy being busy. It won't last forever at I trying to stay in the moment so that I can enjoy it. We forgot how fragile life is sometimes, always onto that "next" thing. I'm here to ask why don't you make like Netflix... and chill? We can't control the future and we can't change the past. So that lends to us only being able to live in the moment. (Side note: I have an application into the housing lottery for a midtown apartment called the Moment. If I get that, then I could actually live in the moment in the Moment. We'll have to wait and see.

Speaking of seeing, I hope to see you at a few shows this week, all of which or none of which could be mine. Doesn't matter. I know I'll be at my shows, and that's about all I need right now. As promised, here they are below. Extra incentive: I hear I'm going to be paying everyone who comes to each one. What? Wow, gettied paid with the experience of good theater, a currency more valuable that actual money. I'm jealous of you now! (Just kidding, I'm not.)

Shows: 

Tuesday: https://www.facebook.com/events/327997734381686??ti=ia

Friday: https://www.facebook.com/events/1566332243454859??ti=ia

Sunday: https://www.facebook.com/events/137705333662639??ti=ia

Another Year and We're Still Here

Happy New Years!!!  If you haven't already been made aware, today is the day when we turn the clocks and calendars forward. So stop writing 2017 on your checks, and also stop using checks. It's 2018. 

My, how a year has come and gone. 2017 was the only year on record that simultaneously flew by and crawled by. 2017 was more of a train wreck than 2015, the year the movie Trainwreck actually came out. But all in all, we can learn a bunch from the recent past and move on to bigger, brighter dumpster fires of a years. You know me, always looking at the positives.

It's a new year, folks, and with that comes my resolutions. Here they are, in all their shining glory: 

1. Start drinking 1% milk (it was a relationship compromise, and by compromise I mean I'm whipped, like heavy cream).

2.  Have a recurring sketch show at a New York Comedy theater, with new sketches every time. 

3. Craft a solid 10-15 minute set of stand up. 

4. Perform more with my girlfriend (a duo called Shewitt).

5. Finish a spec script of a TV show and an original show.

6. Develop a late night television packet (close, but close only counts in government work).

7. Write a one act play.

8. Release a book of the posts on here.

9. Track my spending on a very strict level, like down to the penny, and plan financially.

10. Begin regular classes doing pilates, tai chi, or yoga.

11. Eat at more fancy restaurants and sample the food that NYC has to offer. 

12. Get a new job. (It's complicated.)

13. Write and perform a solo show. 

These are the leftovers from last year plus a few new ones sprinkled in. I am going to track my money to see where it goes this year. I need get more financially stable in 2018. I hope to build my savings up and get out of debt. Besides that my creative ideas are hopefully ambitious and doable. Gotta strive to survive, as I just made up.

Anyway, nurse that hangover today and get ready for tomorrow. We are tackling 2018 like a defensive tight end. And yes, we will give it a concussion and permanent brain damage, cause that's just how you play the game.  Ready, set, hike!

We Can Say Merry New Year's Now!

Did you hear? We can say whatever we want now! Merry Christmas is back, baby (Jesus)! I wasn't aware of it's leaving, but it's Irish Catholic goodbye was apparently well received.

A small note about the past two weeks. I mistakenly thought that my one night of Hanukkah posting could last for 8 whole days. Doh! My bad. It worked for the Jews once and I assumed it would again. You know what they say when you assume; you're racist.

Also, Merry Christmas!! Forgot to say that on Monday, as it was Christmas. Did you get good gifts? Does that matter to you? I found it relaxing to spend some time at "home." You know, someone just told me that home is wherever you are with other people, and I like that definition. It captures the Friedmans, as they say. Ahh, the Friedmans.

Anyway, let's move onto those New Year's Resolutions. I'll post next week about my official ones for 2018. But let's take a quick look back at my 2017 ones, which we've never revisited.

1. Stop breaking out into Miley Cyrus songs (check)

2.  Have a recurring sketch show at a New York Comedy theater, with new sketches every time. (nope)

3. Craft a solid 10-15 minute set of stand up. (not yet)

4. Perform regularly with 1 or more improv teams. (can't say that I do)

5. Write a few episodes of a television show.  (definitely not)

6. Develop a late night television packet. (close, but close only counts in government work)

7. Write a play. (still looking for a good pen)

8. Release a book. (maybe next year)

9. Attend the ever popular play 'Hamilton.' (I did not throw away my shot!)

10. Begin regular classes doing pilates, tai chi, or yoga. (A recent opportunity has presented itself, but no)

11. Join a bowling league.  (Haven't pinned this one down yet.)

12. Get a new job. (It's complicated.)

Well, I can say with great certainty that we have some stuff to work on in 2018. I mean, I need to get down to business. It'll happen. You'll see. Just you wait....

Also, before I forget, I was on a podcast. It's a good talk and I had fun. We gabbed about late night, of which I know nothing. See you in 2018. I'm riding this dumpster fire of year into the sunset. 

http://dhapshow.com/episode-558-charlie-shulman/

I Think Santa is Jewish

I think Santa is Jewish. Oh, come on, we all know Santa is Jewish. He's one big furry black hat away from saying a blessing before eating all of those cookies. That's why milk is such a treat for him. He doesn't have it with dinner. Also, that beard. Are you kidding me? I know Jewish men who would kill for a white beard like that. He'd be the talk of the kibbutz with that beard. He's already the talk of the shtetl where the factory is. Plus, he owns a factory where tiny men and women work for him, making toys. I don't know why but that sounds Jewish to me. A house with that many little people, a.k.a. children. It's right there! You've always got a minion with that many guys and gals. And Mrs. Claus takes care of everyone! Hello?? That's every Jewish mother. Have you had...? Do you need...? Can I get you a spoonful of honey? It all makes sense.

You know, it's weird. Jews don't believe in Santa or Satan. That's like, poetic, no? I think it is. Like the letters are mixed up, but they spell the same word. Coincidence? I think not.

Now, the Grinch is definitely Jewish. That hairy and furry of a guy? Who hates Christmas that much? I'll tell you Cindy-Lou-Who, the Grinch! (I never could figure that out: is it Cindy-Loo in a playful way, or is it Cindy-Lou, like she has a male middle name, effectively being the girl named Lou instead of a boy named sue for kids my age?) It's gotta be, it only makes sense.

Sorry for rambling, but then again, you'd be rambling too, if you discovered a revelation like this. I'm going straight to the failing NY Times. This is just the story they need to save the paper. Gotta go! On Q train! On B train! On Comet! On Blitzen! On Dasher! On Prancer! On Donner! I'm schvitzen!