Chips have grown to be linked to an inside joke amongst my circle of friends. It started with the phrase, “you want some chips?” Which I would say as obnoxiously as possible. There’s a face that goes along with it. The latest installment in the Chips Saga is the Chippy Yo rhyme. When performed correctly it reads like this:
Chippy yo
Chippy chippy yo
Chippy YO!
Chippy fucking YOOOOO!!
This is a vid of my friend Matt Rappaport attempting this complicated rhyme after a night of partying. Enjoy the extras.
I wrote this routine the day I performed it. I tried to stray from the typical setup and punch format, which hasn’t worked too well for me. Even though my set was cut short, I felt like my jokes started to sound like me for the first time. Anyway, this little set gave me hope that I can improve and not bore myself.
When I was a “student,” at San Diego State, the good people from Axe Body Spray gave our fraternity enough free cans of their product to attract every bleached blond, fake tanned, slut within a 10 mile radius. I’ve gotta hand it to their marketing department, this promotion nailed their target demographic…Bro’d out, pussy hungry frat boys, who were retarded enough to believe that a shot of Axe meant they could not only put off showering another day, but get laid in the process. If the backwards hat, lip piercing, and frattoo didn’t work, maybe the Axe would. And if it didn’t, it’s back to the old roofies. “Either way bro, you’re gettin your fuckin’ dick wet!”
If this can't get you laid, you're weak sauce bro!
Axe came in a mind blowing variety of scents. With cryptic names like Phoenix, Kilo, Essence, and Rape, anything was possible. Every fraternity brother had their preference. Matt Goss was a Phoenix kind of guy, for he was born a-new with every shot. Jerad Kaliher would only wear Kilo, for the sultry low notes. Kyle Rector fancied Essence, because “Dude, this shit works! Amber was like all up on my shit and I was like ‘Dude! This chick wants my fuckin’ nuts!’ She seriously grabbed my dick on the dance floor, dude!” And yes, that was a verbatim quote.
It’s a miracle our pubes never went up in flames. Axe is incredibly flammable, and it was not uncommon to drain half a can on your crotch. When you combine an aersol drenched groin and illegal fireworks, bongs, and Zippo tricks, it’s astounding we escaped without third degree burns.
Needless to say, we were really connecting with the product. The testimonials were mounting, and instead of giving the credit to Natty Ice, generic vodka, or Abercrombie and Fitch, Axe won all the praise. Probably the simple fact that our clothes didn’t smell like mildew was enough to spread some already open Panhellenic beav.
My Axe days are behind me now, but the company is still going strong. The commercial below captures everything you need to know about their target consumer and is nothing short of a masterpiece. “Double pits to chesty,” has become my new exclamation. Use it liberally, much like Axe Body Spray. Enjoy.
If you haven’t seen the show Intervention on A&E, it’s about royally fucked up addicts who are in the midst of bottoming out. Not only does this show make you feel better about yourself, but like Thai massage, there’s often a happy ending. The video below is a musical salute to my favorite episode where a girl gets addicted to a compressed air product, similar to Dust-Off. You know, the spray you use to blow off electronics and keyboards. I strongly encourage you to watch the original episode, but for those who have already seen it, here’s a twisted tip of the hat to the original.
I watched the men’s Wimbledon final with my brother, Mark, over the 4th of July weekend. Now, I’ve smacked some balls around and I’ve even played a little tennis, but I’ve never really been fist deep in the sport. Wimbledon is one of those events you can appreciate even if you’re not a real fan of the sport. It’s like the Super Bowl or NBA Finals but without the booze and tits. It was a great match and I thoroughly enjoyed watching Roddick lose after he’d given it his absolute all.
I can’t remember how we got on the topic of men vs. women in tennis but Mark was surprised that I’d never heard about the match between Bobby Riggs and Billie Jean King. As soon as I heard that a retired male tennis player shot his mouth off about the top female player, for the sake of spectacle, I knew I would love this guy. I hope I can leave a legacy in the same vein. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Bobby Riggs.
Last night I hit a new open mic. The Etiquette Lounge at 7th and Market in the Tenderloin is a very cool spot. With $3 well drinks and a happy hour that goes from 5 to 9, you can get sideways in a hurry and laugh your dode off all night. It’s run by three brothers who have also started their own coffee company called Bicycle Coffee. It’s a medium roast, delivered by them on bike, and I hear it’ll get you jacked up as all hell.
Bush buck
This was a big night for me. Sure, I was doing the same played out Michael-Jackson-pedaphile jokes that completely bombed two nights prior, but this was a better room and I had no idea I would get paid! I was proud of myself for enduring the beating from Monday night at Bliss Bar and going back for more. Bombing is a part of every comedian’s journey and since mine has just begun, there’s going to be A LOT OF IT. You know the auditions from American Idol that they show you of people who are completely clueless and horrible? That’s what amateur comedy can be like. It can easily be that bad without even trying.
Anyway, at the end of the night, MC and Host extroardinaire, Tony Sparks, gave me a cut of the nightly donations. Six dollars baby, cash! I did contribute three of those dollars myself, but none the less, I was paid. My first comedy dollar. It was a good feeling.
