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This weekend I was at the Arlington Drafthouse in Arlington, Virginia to feature for Jay Chandrasekhar (or Jay C as I would have called him if I knew him better and had thought of that funny nickname on the spot instead of on a train two days later), known best as a comedy director and star of the films Super Troopers and Beer Fest, though I was happy to hear that he had also directed several episodes of Arrested Development.  I took Amtrak down to DC on Saturday and then ventured to the Metro Pentagon City stop, which was also the location of the mall I always went to during law school when I wanted to spend money I did not have. I hopped a cab to my hotel, the Pentagon City Sheraton, a 4 star hotel according to Hotwire.com, which continued its excellent streak of providing me with criminally low prices for DC Summertime hotel rooms (honestly – I feel like the cheapness of DC area hotels in the Summer could not be any lower even if there was an outbreak of Ebola in the DC area).

When I arrived at my hotel with an almost dead cell phone I realized I had left my cell phone charger at home.  So I took the hotel shuttle back to the Pentagon City Mall to purchase a cell phone charger, which quickly put my net earnings from the weekend at a robust -$21.00.

It was then time to head over to the theater.  My hotel was literally .9 miles in a straight line from my hotel so I started walking, forgetting that I am 36 lbs heavier than the last time I lived in DC for a Summer.  By the time I arrived at the theater I looked like Robert Hayes trying to land the airplane at the end of Airplane!  The staff at the club was great and the crowds were some of the best I have performed in front of.  And CD sales were surprisingly robust.  I saw an older gentleman leaving the theater on Friday night wearing a Williams College hat and I said – “Hey Williams – I am class of 2001.” He then gathered his family around to chat – he was Class of 1964, his son was class of 1996 and his daughter was a vile human being, which I inferred when she said that she had attended Duke.  We had a nice chat and then they bought my albums, which made me finally feel like I was benefiting from the Williams College alumni network.  After that an older drunk woman sort of sexually harassed me which was made weirder by the fact that her date/boyfriend/lover/husband/benefactor was right there. She actually spent 4 drunken minutes guilting him into buying one of my CDs.  It would have been less awkward if he had just paid me $10 to come back to their apartment and have sex with her while he filmed.

The next day was a big day of podcasting.  First was recording a mega movie episode of my podcast with Chris Lamberth (goes up tonight/Tuesday morning) and then I headed back to the theater to record back-to-back-podcast episodes with the guys behind the Three Guys On podcast.  Then, with 7 hours of my life gone I felt like I had had a busy day of accomplishments, until I realized all I had done was record three podcast episodes.  The show was not until 10pm so I had more time to kill so I grabbed dinner with my buddy Ross, whose wedding was chronicled in last week’s blog post.  He then revealed a  truly shocking pair of opinions to me: he is a huge fan of The Leftovers and hated Guardians of the Galaxy.  I asked him when he was joining up with ISIS, since he clearly hates America.

The show was surprisingly packed, sold a few more CDs and then headed back to the hotel. Sadly, my trip back to NYC this morning has been punctuated by a disturbing amount of people in my Acela train car with bare feet up in the air or on their seats.  I am so tired of people putting their feet everywhere like the world is their foot rest.  Feet, whether covered or not, belong on the floor, unless you are in your own home.  And no one wants to see your feet.  I have been angry about this and not many people articulate it better than Adam Carolla in his new book President Me.  From my perspective it is one of those things that is wrong, but the burden shifts to the complainer if you complain.  Like being owed $5.  The person should just pay you back, but if you ask for it back too often you will get the “Jeessh, alright – it’s just $5!!!”and YOU end up feeling like an asshole even though they owe you money.  Put your shoes on people and keep them on the ground.  Other than that, really successful trip to DC.  Hope to see some of you people at the DC Improv October 24-26 when I am back (assuming the people at the shows read this blog).

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on iTunes and/or STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe for free!

This weekend was one of those rare weekends (62% of all my weekends) when I was not booked to tell jokes for minimal profit.  So I did the next best thing – I brought my comedy skills to a wedding in DC for free (food provided, no room – like most gigs now)!  My friend Ross was getting married to his lady of almost ten years, Anne.  Interesting story – I met Ross in my first and only Improv class (the thinking was I am new to stand up so let me bolster my overall comedy game, includign the comedic arts that people find annoying) in DC when I was just a few months into starting as a stand up comedian. He has been one of my most loyal and valuable supporters/critics of my comedy (for those of you that like my podcast he was like Josh Homer 1.0).  When I left DC in 2004 to be a Bronx ADA, Ross met Anne shortly thereafter, proving that there is no good luck as good as J-L relocating to another part of the country from you #blessed.

I arrived in DC and got a sweet deal at The Melrose Hotel, which was right across the street from McFadden’s where I would occasioanlly drink when I was just a DC law student with loads of potential.  The Melrose was super nice, to the point that I think hotwire.com made a mistake with the price they gave me.  My room was spacious and beautiful and came with a section of the US Constitution on the wall, as I usually request when on the road.

I went for a nice stroll through Georgetown to the Ritz Carlton Georgetown where the wedding was.  It was a nice fairly small ceremony and the Maid of Honor was Bridgette, a cute female bull terrier, who rumor had it was a real whore with a couple of the groomsmen later that night.  I thought it was cute, given the small ceremony, for Bridgette to be involved, but can you imagine being the bridesmaids and losing out to a 112 year old Bull Terrier?

Then it was time for me to shine. The miscellanous wedding table.  I was sitting with four couples and one married dude whose wife was back home.  Definitely one of the most fun wedding tables I can remember in my wedding career.  Instead of feeling like Lebron on the Cavs, I felt more like Chauncey Billups on the 2004 Pistons – a real solid team effort from everyone at the table.  Added bonus was sitting next to a celiac (the gluten diseased people) which meant double dinner rolls and double cake (cut me some slack I dropped 40 lbs since March) for me. I even asked for permission by the time I took her third roll.

Due to my extra working out, my lack of partying conditioning this Summer and my insomnia over the last month I left around 1015 and went back to the Melrose. I fell asleep and was having a nice time until my hotel alarm went off at 3 am.  And then again at 530 am.  Here is something I think all hotels should do (this has happened to me 4 times in my life) – the maid should have to reset or turn off all alarms as part of her (or HIS #equality) duties.  As revenge I jerked off into the shampoo bottle and then cleaned it off like it had never been used.  It is a thing I like to call “Shitting it Forward.”    But seriously, there is nothing more annoying then having exactly one night a week to sleep well, having swank and cozy conditions to get eight hours and then, with 6 gin and tonics and a belly full of gluten, getting jolted awake at 3 am.

But overall, a great little trip back to my old stomping grounds. Here is a throwback photo of Ross and I (and comedian Danny Rouhier on the left) in 2003 or 2004 when I started.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on iTunes and/or STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe for free!

This past week was a whirlwind tour of Canada-South, aka Minnesota.  It was the typical J-L Cauvin comedy trip: Southwest Airlines, solid merch sales, complaints to the club and complaints directly sent to me while on stage.  The trip began with a 5 am run on a rainy Wednesday morning in NYC. It felt good – the city was dark and quiet and the only thing to fear in Midtown Manhattan was the 6’7″ bi-racial guy looking like a small B-cup version of Baywatch-Manboobs Edition running up and down 1st and York Avenues.  I got back to my apartment, showered and grabbed my bags for LaGuardia’s Southwest Airlines section, which is as close in feel to Port Authority Bus Terminal as any airport in America gets.  Upon arriving at Minneapolis-St Paul Airport, after a Chicago-Midway lawyover, I was picked upby my feature Joey Vincent, who for NYC comics looks like Jon Fisch, if Jon Fisch played Left Tackle for the Minnesota Vikings.  So the two of us drove the 2 hours in his van to the Black Bear Casino in Carlton, MN.  The gig at the Black Bear Casino is always interesting – it is run by a nice little fellow named Chuck, for whom ever year is 1987 when it comes to fashion – he sort of reseembles a short, mustachioed version of Sean Penn’s lawyer character in Carlito’s Way.  Well the casino has no table games and the showers have curtains instead of doors, so basically I don’t expect Floyd Mayweather to have his next title defense there.  Seven minutes prior to showtime I took a photo (look it up on my Facebook page (157 likes #blessed) or instagram: jlcomedy to see the 4 people sitting in the room.  But as soon as you could say #quitting and#RobinWilliamsMusthaveHadThisAsHisLastGig, the floodgates opened and we had almost a full room. Joey had a great set and I did what all legends do – performed so great that I sold one CD after the show.  If this sounds unremarkable, it isn’t because Joey said he had never seen someone make a sale at Black Bear and this was the second straight year I had at least one sale. I am basically the Wilt Chamberlain of selling CDs at weird casinos.

We headed back down to St Paul on Thursday for the first of my five shows headlining the Joke Joint Comedy Club.  The club has a condo, but unlike many condos, this one is the second floor of the club owner’s house so you know he keeps it clean and cozy.  It is like your own small, 2 bedroom apartment equipped with Dish TV and a PS3, which is a great contrast to the comedy condo at Rivercenter Comedy Club in San Antonio Texas, which is fully equipped with West Nile Virus and cockroach semen.

The Thursday show was actually just me doing twenty minutes after a comedy contest, which was fun because you could feel both the fatigue and the “this guy isn’t our fu*king friend” vibe from the crowd. Still sold three CDs to an avid reader of this blog so here’s to you if you are reading this post.

Fridays shows represented the highwater mark of the week for sure.  The early Friday crowd was massive. Not kidding. From what I was told it far exceeded Summer expectations and then I ended up selling 17 CDs after the first show (leaving me with two left for the remaining three shows).  And there was only one complaint to management!  The late Friday show was a much smaller crowd, but really really good (other than the fact that they bought zero CDs).  They also were treated to an eight minute off the cuff discussion of Barkhad Abdi, the Somlian pirate from Captain Phillips and Minnesota resident (until he moved to LA for movies and teeth whitening… I hope) that was not vidotaped and will go down as the greatest 8 minutes of comedy dedicated to Barkhad Abdi EVER.

Saturday’s shows had me stressed because, if I was pushing that much merchandise weight on Friday, there were bound to be a lot of disappointed fans on Saturday. Fortunately for all of us, the large crowd featured a woman I will call Grandma Steve Austin. The show was going alright, but then an odd exchange occurred:

Me: My father is Haitian-

Lady (possibly Grandma, but not sure): We like you anyway!

Crowd: Nervous laughter.

Group of Latin and Possibly Mixed Race Women on the other side of the room: What the fu*k did she just say?

Me: That was weird (followed by some laugh line).

(15 minutes later)

Me: I think if the state has marriage powers then they have to be given to gay couples, but I think sometimes Dads who are upset at having gay sons get a bad rap.

(Definitely) Grandma Steve Austin: FU*K YOU!

Me: (turning to see who she was arguing with to see her staring right at me) Huh? But the joke is really funny

Crowd: TELL IT

Me: (I tell it and it kills)

5 minutes later doing my closer:

Me: So my girlfriend was actually in the movie The Wolf of Wall Street

(I then turn to GSA’s side of the room where she is holding out a double middle fingered salute (Steve Austin style), waiting for me to turn – as in she already had them up before I turned towards her)

So unless this woman has a gay son and was ripped off by Jordan Belfort I am not sure why she was so hostile, though I learned afterward that she was extremely drunk and her husband ditched her halfway through the show.  Sadly this led to me selling zero CDs after the show, mainly because of the awkward tension, even though I did get a “great set” worth of handshakes after the early show.  At this point I was feeling like Tiger Woods chasing Jack Nicklaus – after the 21 CD sales prior to Saturday I figured there was no way I wouldn’t sell out.  Now, just like Tiger, after a belligerant exchange with a woman, I had lost my mojo and was still stuck with 2 left to complete the task. Well, the late crowd was really good, even though it was probably my weakest set of the week.  I sold one album. So I left with 23 from NYC and would return with just one. Pretty good considering for my last road trip (Cleveland-Chicago back-to-back) I brought 40 and returned home with 32.

The next day the club owner was nice enough to drive me to the airport at 545 am where he told me that the headliner at his Houston club, which I will be headlining in September, sold $700 worth of merch this weekend.  Given my track record I better bring more CDs and a willingness to harvest my own organs if I want to sell that well. Stay tuned.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on iTunes and/or STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe for free!

On Sunday night I performed at Jazz on the Park, a twice weekly show run by the nicest, if not least influential booker in NYC, Randy Epley.  To give you a visualization he looks like a slightly sickly Gary Oldman. He is generous with the spots and I will always remember his hostel show as the last place I did a warm up set for my appearance on The Late Late Show 43 years ago. Now the show, which takes place at the aforementioned location is on Manhattan’s Upper West Side.  It is actually a good place to work out material for broad audiences, because the crowds are usually foreign, but English speaking, so they get jokes, but not necessarily inside-America/NYC jokes.  Now the show can be hit and miss with crowds, but last night was practically a full house and very receptive to the comedians.  I went up third and had a very strong set, with the exception of a new joke at the end that I am still “working out.” The premise of the joke is basically how some women will reassure you that they never slept (intercourse) with a douche bag, which only makes a reasonable guy assume that she gave him a bj, which to many men is far worse.  The joke got some laughs, but ended poorly (that is why we work on them and why it is a silver lining that I am not famous and having my open mic work recorded for Upworthy or Jezebel).  After the set I headed upstairs to talk with a comic who was nice enough to recently purchase my albums as a way of helping support Breaking Obamacare, my (hopefully) new sketch video.  As we were talking with another comedian, Corey, a young woman came upstairs and complimented Corey and me on our sets.

Full disclosure, the young woman was fairly attractive, but I had remembered her sitting next to an older woman who seemed to dislike my material (folded arms and shaking head are good signs of comedy displeasure).  The young woman said “That was my Aunt.  I think you were very funny, but some of it might be generational.”  She began to talk to the three of us about comedy and of course she was a Louis CK fan.  But she seemed to be fairly comedy literate and engaging in a comedy discussion.  We told her to check out my CK video and Corey handed her a piece of paper with our twitter handles on it. She said she didn’t have Twitter.  It was all going well and then her Aunt showed up.  I turned to the Aunt and said “Hey, I hope you at least liked some of my jokes.”  She then looked at me, pointed to her niece and quietly mouthed the words:

“She’s only 17, so you know…”

If there was a record of the formerly iritating theme song to Louie playing in my head based on the conversation we had ben having, it would have screeched to a stop.

First off, why are you only telling me?  Was my erection poking through my jeans?  Secondly, what does “so you know mean?” First 17 is legal in NY. Second, no I don’t know!  She came up to me. I have a monogrammed LL Bean backpack on and am walking out the door with two other comedians.  Why do I look like a threat? Other than my jokes about oral sex and my 6’7″ frame and terrorism-inspired eybrows?

I have never been at a loss for words after a show before, but I just had no idea what to say.  To be fair I would have guess the young woman’s age to be 20, but I didn’t realize that I should be introducing myself to neighbors as a sex offender according to her aunt.  I think I would have preferred the woman’s father punch me in the face for talking to his daughter than her aunt come in with the “Keep the dick in your pants; she’s a child you filthy pervert” attitude.  And let’s be honest, what kind of attractive, confident 17 year old walks up to three grown men in a hostel to compliment them on their comedy?  I know this might be wrong to say, but she was asking for a conversation!  She was practically begging for a chat about comedy!  There I said it. Sorry if that is out of line with today’s culture, but in my book, when a young woman strikes up a conversation with older men at a comedy show, she is there for one reason and one reason only. To get blasted with chit chat.

If you want to see me perform this week and talk the ear off of some 45 year old housewives I will be headlining the Joke Joint in St Paul, MN Thursday through Saturday.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on iTunes and/or STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe for free!

Bartenders have been doing well for themselves for decades.  You don’t have to look like Tom Cruise or flip bottles like he did in Cocktail to collect numbers, though depending on the establishment they usually stack the deck in favor of the bartender.  You hire good looking bartenders and women arrive, get intoxicated and look to bang the bartender.  It’s like a legal way of banging your Saturday night therapist. If you build it, they will cum. You get the vulgar point I am making. Whether it is the classy dude at the swank location, or the bro wearing sweatbands talking about how cross fit has changed his life, bartendinng is like being a firefighter in the vagina obtaining game, except unlike firefighters, bartenders put their clients in more danger, instead of saving them from it.  You may be asking, why is J-L talking about bartenders? Shouldn’t he exposing and overinflating an injustice in the comedy business?  Well, as my comedy career possibly winds down it is time for me to be exploring bigger injustices in the world, not just in the navel gazing comedy community.  And there is an injustice going on of epic proportions to the salad making community in NYC.  They are the bartenders of daylight, but getting none of the vaginal benefits of bartending. And this needs to change.

Every day for the last few months I have been going to Chop’t, a very popular salad chain (co-founded by a class of ’93 alumnus of my high school – just another way for me to feel unaccomplished on a daily basis while eating lunch) in NYC.  I have dropped a good amount of weight and have been very impressed with the workers at my local Chop’t.  They work with sharp blades and never get injured, they work at breakneck speed and they have to remember more salads than a Starbucks barista has to memorize coffee drinks.  But I have yet to see a phone number handed over by one of these demanding “tofu, hearts of palm, avocado, kale salad” ordering chicks (or guys – no judgment).  So let’s break it down.

Health

In this day and age of obsessively healthy eating who is doing your more good?  The guy who makes you a $10 salad full of nutrients or the guy who “makes” you a $7 fireball shot?

Equality and Efficiency

At a crowded bar you can wait 5-10 minutes for a drink… and that is if you are a hot 24 year old chick.  Well at Chop’t it doesn’t matter if you have tits spilling out of your work inappropriate  outfit or if you are a grandmother with varicose veined cankles, the staff at Chop’t will deliver your product fast.  And there is no room for error.  At lunchtime during the work week people treat their break as sacred and will snap if things don’t move quickly enough. At a bar on the weekend, take your time Broseph – give me a watered down drink for too much whenever is conveninet for YOU!

 

 

Meat Market

At my Chop’t the ratio of male to female salad makers is about 11:1. And they are all Latin, a people generally known for their passionate love making.  So let me get this straight – you would rather go for the bro riddled with HPV who has his pick of the litter every weekend or Miguel, the guy working his ass off, starved for vagina because he is surrounded by dick all day, just looking for a woman to have his 8 babies?  For every woman that walks into a Chop’t saying they can’t find a man or are running our of time to have kids, Angel should cut off one of their fingers with the blade they cut salads with. (On a side note – having a woman chop your salad is fine – but try to avoid them picking the ingredients for you – they have small hands and cannot scoop as much chicken in your chicken salad as a dude. In fact, Chop’t should hire a 6’8″ inner city black teen basketball player as an intern and his job is simply to scoop chicken with his Kawhi Leonard hands – Chop’t gets associated with a potential NBA player while doing good for the community and I get 3 lbs of chicken in my salad. Everybody wins).

Latinos Are The Future

I have met very few Latino batenders in NYC.  However, Chop’t looks like a South American soccer team.  When Chad or Brint from the nighclub “Blessed” (doesn’t exist yet) turns 50 (if you make a go of it) and the magic is gone what are you left with?  A bunch of dumb kids that are good looking enough to pull some high school tail and then be underachieving, aspiring actors until you die.  You hook up with Carlos from Chop’t? You have a kid that speaks the language of the future (Spanglish) and looks like the future.

So basically it boils down to this: if you like a hardworking person who makes your life better, has the skills of a bartender and the hardware and tattoos of Machete, do the right thing and throw a bang in the direction of your local salad chopper. Either that or you are a dumb racist.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on iTunes and/or STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe for free!

Everyone is buzzing about Comic Con 2014 in San Diego this weekend, but in light of the popularity of the real Comic Con a lot of lesser, more exploitative “Comic Cons” have sprung up around the country. This video from Action 4 News details the man behind a lot of these other Comic Cons and goes behind the scenes at the Buffalo, NY Comic Cons.

What do you think?

Today’s blog is one that will hopefully adequately lower expectations of my content for the rest of the Summer.  The podcast will continue to come out every Tuesday and I plan to maintain the “at least 1 video per month” schedule as well, but thanks to the nature of comedy I am working a fairly time intensive job for the next few months to help fund my respected-in-every-way-but-monetarily comedy career.   All this could be cured with a manager’s phone call to Lorne Michaels that he has to check out my reel of sketches and impressions, but assuming that guardian angel does not exist this is the way of the world.  So movie reviews will be sporadic and almost definitely not on Fridays and blogs will be all over the board as well, most likely.  Consider this just a friendly update to my 18 loyal readers that I am not dead (yet) or quitting comedy (yet) or moving to Cleveland (yet), but simply working to fund this terminally ill dream of a career in comedy.

In other positive news I have lost 17 pounds in the month of July bringing me down once again from morbidly obese to “football player who let himself go a little bit” level.

This Wednesday a new sketch will be unveiled on my YouTube page, which I hope you all watch, laugh at and share with no one to maintain my career’s current trajectory of a Malaysian airliner over Ukraine, and of course, tomorrow there will be a new episode of my podcast.

OK. Bye.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on iTunes and/or STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe for free! 

With the flurry of NBA free agency signings last week and this week, as well as the announcement of several Saturday Night Live departures. it got me thinking.  Last year I had a manager submit my stuff to SNL and I know it got to a level where I had to fill out a legal form so I know someone had to at least care that much.  Shockingly to all of us I did not get an audition, let alone a spot on the show.  But with a recent expulsion of feature and regular players on SNL (UCB is calling it their Red Wedding) it seems there is another shot for me to replace the Fred Armisen Latin-Middle Eastern-North African -White slot on the show.  Plus, in the interest of non-traditional diversity, I think there should be a push for the show’s first 6’7″ cast member (I think).  So because I don’t have  a manager, an agent or any heat to my career here is hoping that the 8 videos I post here as my reel can become one of those fun viral posts where a loser catches a huge amount of attention from the industry. Oh who am I kidding – just enjoy this diverse group of impressions and sketches and subscribe to the YouTube channel.  Here you go:

Adam Sandler

Adam Carolla, Donald Trump & Barack Obama

Notorious B.I.G.

Louis CK

Bill de Blasio

George Lopez

The Rock

Liam Neeson

Assorted (Alan Rickman, JC Van Damme, etc)

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on iTunes and/or STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe for free! 

Well yesterday was my first day in Chicago to start a week of feature work at Zanies.  I flew a very bumpy short flight from Cleveland to Chicago and had my usual dosage of annoyance from the new brand of airline terrorist: the woman (or man) who thinks they are the sole owner of the window.  I like seeing outside but I would at least like it put to a vote of the row of seats.  Otherwise I reserve the right as the aisle seat person to refuse the window seat passenger access to snacks or the bathroom.  Anyway I arrived in Chicago and was picked up from the airport by my friend from law school who has provided me with shelter each of visits to Zanies in 2010, 2012 and now 2014.

The last time I was in Chicago she had added a cat to her apartment and that cat promptly sat on my head while I was sleeping, putting the fear of God into me.  So this time when I met the cat I have been kissing its ass and scratching it – like Anthony Cumia taking pictures with black fans I was out to show Biscuit (the cat) that not only do I NOT have problems with cats… some of my best friends are cats!

The other thing this trip is providing is a great contrast in paths taken by Georgetown Law graduates.  As I wrote on Facebook last night, many of my law school classmates, several of whom who have been exceedingly supportive by either recruiting people to shows in different cities or, in a few cases, providing me a couch or a spare bedroom (see as a lawyer you can have more than a one room apartment) to stay in when clubs do not provide lodging.   Well my friend owns her own place in the heart of downtown Chicago and it is a great loft.  Then she gave me guest passes to the East Bank Club – the greatest-to-an-absurd-level gym I have ever seen.  I am legitimately living a more luxurious lifestyle (except with a cat creeping around) than if I were staying in a great hotel (by great I mean EVEN BETTER than my usual Hampton Inn when I am feeling like a baller).  The point is the best thing I can say about law school is that it puts you in contact with people who will be successful and might help you on your difficult path to mediocrity. #Blessed

The show last night went very well at Zanies.  Here are my three favorite interactions that will help you see how I did:’

3) “Are you always the middle at clubs? (Yes) You should be a headliner.”

2) “Did you perform at Vanderbilt with lawyers?” (YES!) “That was a lot more tame than your act here” (well did you still enjoy it?) “To be honest I am very much against porn (I did a bit on the absurd fact that porn is still labeled interracial in 2014) but you did get lots of laughs.”

1) “My boyfriend died this week and I lost my job and you made me really laugh tonight and I am going to tell people about you.” (So you’re single?)

This will probably be the last blog of the week, but be sure to check out www.YouTube.com/JLCauvin for my review of Dawn of the Planet of the Apes on Friday.

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on iTunes and/or STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe for free! THIS WEEK’S EPISODE WAS A MASTERPIECE

Well, another week in my home away from home, Cleveland, has concluded and between good shows, great weather and saving money on my Con Ed bill back home this week was a huge success.  Since I was busy snapping a ton of photos on the trip I will just give you a short write up before giving you the photos (with hilarious captions of course).  Wednesday through Saturday I middled for Tim Gaither and Sunday I emceed for Gary Owen.  The great thing about working with Gary Owen (other than him being a funny dude) is that my first paid gig in August 2004 was emceeing for Gary Owen at the DC Improv.  So in 9 years, 11 months I have finally made it to the point where I am… emceeing for Gary Owen?  But since I worked with him in 2013 (and he remembered me then too after an 8 year gap) he remembered me as “the Georgetown law grad” (better to be remembered for something, right?).  He also remembered me telling him how good Season 3 of Breaking Bad was (apparently I really was like a Born Again Christian with that show).  But all the shows were fun (some more fun than others), but unlike most of my road comedy blogs I will let the pictures of the city and my time here do he talking.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For more opinions, comedy and bridge burning check out the Righteous Prick Podcast on iTunes and/or STITCHER. New Every Tuesday so subscribe for free!