The Unposted

I've decided to put up all of the posts that I haven't previously posted. These are all posts that, for whatever reason, never got posted in the past. Some of them are meager. For whatever reason all have never been finished. If you happen to like one, or many, please let me know. I'd be glad to give it another whack. I'm doing this to spite myself. I could use the encouragement... or the guilt.

Titles are in bold. Comments are in italics.

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I'd love to do New Orleans Justice. I was really hoping that writing about New Orleans would turn me into a Hunter S. Thompson like legend. As you can see I wasn't even able to get a blog up on it's feet. this one crawls along at about three paragraphs and a shitty picture of Tom's plane landing. Some day I'll finish this one. It deserves time and effort. The short of it is: we were completely wasted the whole time and I took a ton of pictures of my awesome, drunk friend while trying to stay alive. I got my ass kicked in New Orleans. I'm, seriously, lucky to be alive after that one...

New Orleans: Old Friends, New Enemies (4/20/07)
The Following posts cover four fiendish days in New Orleans. Time well spent with one of our closest, funniest friends. A one Mr. "Big Thomas" Dustin. There are many scoundrels on this large planet but there is only one Tom Dustin.

On Monday March 9th at 4:15 AM David and I departed our parents house and quickly ran over a dog sized racoon. THUMP. David, "What was that?" Me, "Racoon... zzzzz." I quickly went to sleep. (It's a condition I have. Killing animals, for some reason, makes me sleep like a baby.) # of miles from our Parent's house in Florida to The Big Sleazy? Roughly 700. I slept most of the way. (We killed a lot of animals.)

We finally arrived in New Orleans at around 1pm and made our way to the airport because that was the, same exact, time that Big Tom was scheduled to arrive. We happened to pull into the airport just as Tom’s plane landed...















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To be completely honest with you there's nothing I would rather do than blog about my experiences in Scotland last summer. I could make your eyes bleed with the tales. It would be great therapy and I imagine I've learned a lot from that trip. The problem is I've buried it deep within my soul and this post never got finished because I, no shit, started to get physically ill while trying to write about said experiences. I used to think I was well balanced... Edinburgh changed that and my sanity. "One and the same thing?" Pshaw!

There were some great things that happened there. There's a picture in this one that was part of what I love about life and someday I'll finish what I began. I do believe we came as close to seeing a person get possessed as anyone ever has on this trip and it happened shortly after I took that picture...

Enter These Haunted Halls (8/26/07)
I promised myself I'd blog when we got to Edinburgh and it's a promise I never kept. Hopefully I can disprove the old adage, "too little, too late." The time I spent in Scotland was one of the hardest months of my life and definitely the most difficult experience of my comedy career to date. As I sit here now, the recollection is difficult. My curse is having the memory of an elephant.















"Why such a bad time?" You ask. A combination of many things. Terrible shows chief among them. Don't get me wrong, there were plenty 'o great times to be had. And we had 'em. I just wish we were received better. From what I hear it's always difficult on your first visit, especially for American performers, and blah, blah, blah... Chalk it all up. The end result was one of the most grueling learning experiences one could ever hope to have.

Now, I'd like to go into great detail about everything that went on overseas but my posts have been entirely too long lately. So, this one'll be brief.

Gather round everybody and listen to these Haunted Tales.















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I took a trip to Vegas with my parents on Thanksgiving and I had a better time than I ever thought I would. I came to a lot of realizations. For one, I realized that I care more for slot machines than I ever thought was possible. I care an unreasonable amount for them, it turns out. I also, direly, wanted to make a comparison between Egypt's Pyramid and our Pyramid. One fact I learned in my research is that our Pyramid is the owner the most powerful light on earth, while their Pyramid is still larger than ours...


Pyramids (12/6/07)
Not long ago I took a trip with my Mom and Dad to Las Vegas. Two weeks ago to be exact. It was a great time. Much better than I expected. I'll tell you all about it but not now... I haven't the time. There was one thing, though, that caught my eye and tickled my fancy. They've got a pyramid. Can you believe that? I know that everybody knows but I love that we're still building pyramids. I think it's great.

Old Khufu the King would marvel at our pyramid...













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This post was supposed to be about how I won the Reggie Lewis essay contest and got to shoot free throws at half-time at a Celtics game when I was a sophomore... The problem is my description is longer than the post.

Free Throws (1/05/08)
I'm not a huge sportsfan. I guess I'd consider myself to be more of a movie guy or a

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Again, I think I just lost it on this one. I wanted so badly to write about my sadness but I couldn't do it. If I made a video blog of me crying about the Patriots loss I'm sure I would've gotten 2 million hits... and every comment would've been about how much of a "pussy" or "fag" I am.

Becoming A New England Patriots Fan (2/5/08)
I woke up in Phoenix with a hangover, wearing the same Patriots sweatshirt I fell asleep in the night before. The previous night a haze of mixed emotions. Mostly shades of blue. Everyone knows the Pats lost but few know that less than ten minutes after their defeat I suffered another, larger, more personal one. I lost my notebook. Probably the hardest thing to conceive of in my overly-active imagination. A most unkind fate.

I awoke with a sadness that was unexpected. I'm chalking it up to residual effects of the alcohol mind-numbing I submitted myself to. I wasn't prepared to feel so bad. In seasons past I've never been invested as much as this season. It has less to do with an unstoppable Offense than the fact that I've moved Three Thousand Miles from home. I'm not one of those "rub winning in everyone else's face" kind of fan. Watching makes me feel close to home. It's just nice. So, my brother decided we should take a drive to Arizona to spend the Super Bowl right where it was being played. It's a Historic occasion. So, that's exactly what we did.

We had some friends in from Charlestown and they were staying at a Hotel right next to University of Phoenix Stadium, where the game was going on. Theres also a third friend
who's a minor celebrity and now helps promote parties for high profile companies. So, that's how we found ourselves watching the dreams of our Patriots get crushed, in a tent, in the middle of Scotsdale, Arizona.

There was a moment where I had to give it to them, though. The Giants, the Giants' fans. The Patriots sucked. They choked. No disrespect to Brady and the gang but they didn't deserve to win and life is good that way. I'm sad that they lost. More sad than I thought I'd be. But it's good to see a victory go to a team that deserves to win sometimes. And to tell you the truth, I smiled at the reaction the Giants' fans had when they won. Don't get me wrong, I was crushed, but there's just something infectious to seeing grown A-dults cheer and hug and jump up and down. It's hard for me to be unhappy when other people are sooo Happy. That's why I do comedy.

When the thought above struck me I felt the familiar urge to draw my pen and whip out my notebook and that's when I noticed it was gone. Everything came crashing down. It's a dreadful feeling. The same as having your car stolen. (I've been there too.) I only had four six pockets and I kept checking them over and over again. To no avail. I could pull neither a notebook nor a Patirots win out of my sweatshirt...

I pushed past the initial shock, bought my friend James a round (he's a Giants fan) and wrote my thoughts down in- my new notebook- a bar knapkin. As the night wore on we drank a lot more and there was live entertainment in the tent. Some of the worst bands and rappers I've ever seen. I was prepaired to leave even though I had no idea where I was or would be going. That's exactly what happened when my buddy James' friends arrived.

Luckily, the notebook was recovered (from the Lincoln Towncar that we had taken from the Hotel our friends were staying at in Phoenix)

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This is the Post that made me come up with the idea to post all of the other ideas. Would you rather have me rant about how great Stephen King is? We all know that he's a National effin' Treasure... Right? Read the Dark Tower. You'll see.

Stephen King is Our Shakespeare (Tonight)
You're Fuckin A right he is! And I'll take Stephen King over Shakespeare any day of the week and twice on Sunday. Consider, for one second, what authors they made us read in High School. Who did we have to...

-Chris