Hi. My name is Andres du Bouchet. I'm a comedian based in New York City, and this is where you can find out a bit more about me, get details on my upcoming performances, or just read my silly ramblings.
True story - Sting has mastered his diet to such an extent, that when he performs a Dutch Oven on his wife, the resulting trapped gases REMOVE BLEMISHES AND SMOOTH WRINKLES FROM HER SKIN. And also, it smells like the Aurora Borealis.
...and I totally seem like an asshole! CHECK IT OUT!
Last night my computer said the wisest thing to me:
bagel.
Check out the "Your E-mail Alerts" box at the lower right corner of THIS ARTICLE.
Smoke from the Vatican chimney is black this morning, indicating that the gaggle of Cardinals holed up in there have not yet chosen a new The Pope. Either that, or they're burning the latest issue of Damned Pre-Teen Choir Rumps.
Today marks the 10th anniversary of the tragic Oklahoma City Bombing. I think it's important for us all to reflect on this tragedy, but to also take heart in the fact that Saddam has been brought to justice.
I have no punchline. I just thought it sounded like a truly awful set-up.
This is annoying. I just purchased a wedding gift for a friend (post wedding, but I'm told I have a year), and in the space where it lets you fill out a little gift card, part of it was FILLED OUT ALREADY. And it wouldn't let me change it! What the whuh?
CAN I WRITE ANYTHING INTERESTING IN TWO MINUTES??!! OOPS NOW JUST ONE MINUTE.
The assortment of staff and oddballs have left the room, murmuring excitedly about the new plan to convert the Insaniterium into a bed & breakfast. Charles, the owner and proprietor of the asylum, is now alone with his wife and righthand woman, Emily.
A drawing room in a large, old mansion. Our main character, Charles Worthington (I'll probably change the names later) a well-spoken, calm, middle-aged man in a nice suit, holds a phone receiver to his ear and listens intently. The cord from the receiver extends down to the phone itself, which rests on a silver tray being held by a large butler. The room is full of oddball characters and various servants, all hanging on the main character's every reaction.
Making love to a panda...
That's it. My brain is officially empty. Kaput. No more ideas. Sorry folks. Wait. Let me try...
So get this - I shot him, chopped him up, threw the pieces in an incinerator, and guess what? The gold teeth were STILL fuckin' there! So let me ask you this - if the gold teeth are indestructible, why don't they make the whole Tony The Fink out of gold teeth? EH??! YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE?! Ah ha ha ha! It's like one uh them jokes what is famous, but about I guy I knocked off. Shit.
I would like to remove all of the DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME warnings from everything ridiculously stupid and dangerous. If we play our cards right as a society, this could be a useful way of thinning the ranks! Of idiots!
...known as the Marco Polo Fish. I first encountered this luminous monstrosity in the summer of 1978, off the coast of Bernique Isle. While tarp baiting for Rainbow Skates, a member of my crew, Corduroy Stan, pointed off the starboard side of our vessel, The Saint Santa, and noted a bluish glow in the water. He pointed at it and called out to our resident photographer, "Marco, Marco! MARCO!" At which point a nearly circular maw rimmed with razor-sharp dagger-length teeth positively erupted out of the water. The until-then-undiscovered Marco Polo Fish. Corduroy Stan completely slathered the deck with his distress. Marco arrived just in time to take a few snapshots before the six-foot-wide glowing mouth slid back down into the depths.
The tales started circulating circa 1912. Baxter & Brahms Crate and Teeming Masses Transport Co. had opened up new shipping routes through the East Malzores, and despite the occasional Hair Whale attack or Reverse Wave, transoceanic commerce thrived! However, a murmur of a doubt lingered in the back of the collective consciousnesseses of the shipping industry. Two words: Marco Polo.
...atop KISSYSMOOCH MOUNTAIN!
It always looks like the train is coming, but just a few painful drops dribble out.
So, the other evening I was riding on one of New York City's "Subterranean Means Of Going That Way Trains", which we call the "subway" for short. I stood there, pleasantly jostling in place, my mind drifting as I patiently waited for Point A to recede into memory and Point B to make itself known, when I noticed that the woman across from me was TALKING ON HER CELL PHONE HOLY.
Lately I've been performing "blind." That is to say, I've been wearing sunglasses and keeping my eyes close while I do standup. I don't know why. It's very relaxing!
Anyway, it struck me that, as far as I know, there is no equivalent of closed captioning for blind people. A deaf person can watch a television and see what's taking place, but can't hear the dialogue. So the closed captioning provides it. However, a blind person can HEAR the dialogue, but can't see what's taking place! So I propose...
CLOSED CAPTIONING FOR THE BLIND
(the words in all-caps would be heard on top of the other dialogue, not in the pauses as this would seem to indicate - it's all funnier when heard and not read! YAY! This e-posting can bite me).
Monica: Hi Chandler.
YOU HAVE FLIPPED TO AN EPISODE OF FRIENDS. MONICA AND CHANDLER ARE TALKING IN THE MEN'S ROOM OF A RESTAURANT.
Chandler: Monica! This is the Men's room! (Pause) Isn't it?
MONICA IS WEARING A BLUE BLOUSE AND A BLACK SKIRT. CHANDLER IS WEARING A MAROON V-NECK SWEATER OVER A WHITE BUTTON-DOWN SHIRT AND A PAIR OF KHAKIS
Monica: Yes it is. You see I've always found the men's bathroom very sexual. Haven't you?
MONICA HAS STARTED NERVOUSLY WASHING HER HANDS FOR NO PARTICULAR REASON. CHANDLER STARTS TO PACE.
Chandler: No. And if I did, I don't think we'd be going out. Monica, this is getting ridiculous!
ANOTHER RESTAURANT PATRON ENTERS BRIEFLY, SEES THAT THERE IS A COUPLE HAVING A DISCUSSION IN THE BATHROOM, AND SHEEPISHLY EXITS.
Monica: Come on, we can't let them win!
Chandler: Ugh, we have already proved that we are hot! Okay? So why-why are you getting so obsessed about this thing?!
Monica: Because Phoebe and Gary are in that-can't-keep-their-hands-off-each-other-doing-it-in-the-park phase!
Chandler: (gasps) So?
CHANDLER HAS A SARCASTIC LOOK ON HIS FACE.
Monica: I feel really sad that we're not…really there anymore.
MONICA HAS A SAD LOOK ON HER FACE.
Chandler: Oh wow! Is that what this all have been about?
CHANDLER HAS A SURPRISED LOOK ON HIS FACE.
Monica: Wasn't it a lot more exciting when we were y'know all over each other all the time?
Chandler: Yeah that was great. That was really great! But to tell you the truth, I'm more excited about where we are right now.
CHANDLER PUTS HIS HANDS ON MONICA'S SHOULDERS WITH A LOVING LOOK ON HIS FACE
Monica: Really?
MONICA HAS A HOPEFUL LOOK ON HER FACE AS ANOTHER RESTAURANT PATRON ENTERS AND THEN IMMEDIATELY LEAVES.
Chandler: Yeah! I've never been in a relationship that's lasted this long before. Y'know to get past the beginning and still be around each other all the time, I think that's pretty incredible. And the fact that this is happening all with you, yeah I think that's pretty exciting.
THEY ARE KISSING. ANOTHER RESTAURANT PATRON COMES OUT OF ONE OF THE STALLS WIPING HIS EYES WITH A TISSUE. HE HEARD THEIR DISCUSSION AND IT MADE HIM GET TEARY-EYED.NOTICE: If received in error, please destroy and notify sender. Sender does not waive confidentiality or privilege, and use is prohibited.
NOTICE: If received in error, please destroy and notify sender. Sender does not waive confidentiality or privilege, and use is prohibited.
So, posting via e-mail simply does not work. Half the posts I sent never popped up here, and the ones that did were all out of order. Here are all of yesterday's posts in the order they were sent. Then we can put this whole unfortunate affair behind us!
