Saturday night I headed to Philly to see a sketch comedy show. The show was written largely by a woman I work with, Leanne. Leanne has recently been accepted to Second City Chicago comedy/writing school. Yeah, that Second City. She is the shit. But I digress, she wrote most of the show, and she acted in a bunch of the skits. Milk out the nose funny stuff. Stomach hurts in the morning afterwards funny. This was the second show of hers that I have seen. She and the entire cast are so passionate about what they are doing. I think that I would enjoy watching them, based on their passion. The fact that the show kicks ass would be my recommendation to anyone looking for something cool to do. I think this group is going to do one more show before Leanne moves to Chicago. If you get a chance. Go to the show. So damn funny. There was also bluesy sexy band that played between the skits. They were also very good. The Jesse Shurr Band. I will admit it was odd having my funny bone tickled and then my blues ybone tickled too, but the overall package was very good. Anyway, check ‘em all out on the web:

www.skitsoid.com and www.Jesseschurrband.com

Perhaps as memorable as the show was, the events afterwards certinaly spiced the evening.
As Ted, Gwen, Diane and I approached the parking lot where our car was parked,
we see 4 black men all huddled closely and yelling at each other. Well that’s not exactly true, as it turns out it was one fellow yelling at the parking lot attendant, his 2 boys trying to get him to let it go.

Yelling Dude shouts loudly, “you motherf-cker, you scratched my car, and practically destroyed my boys car, you bastard I’m not paying you a cent to park here and you better take care of my car.” The parking lot attendant sat quietly, and patiently dealing with the verbal battery being laid down on him. The yelling dude’s buddies were trying to get him to leave. Ted and I puffed up our chests directed Diane and Gwen towards the toaster. To be honest we really were not sure how this was gonna play out.

The yelling dude comes over to Ted and I and smiles. He is very well dressed, suburban almost, with large bling, bling rocks in his ears. His face had a number of stylish piercing including a large barbell through his soul patch area.

Very calmly and frankly eloquently, he comments to us “that bastard scratched my car, and I told him I wasn’t gonna pay to park here anymore. He damn near ripped my boy’s bumper off, that rat bastard. And of course, you can’t say anything once you leave the lot. I mean it’s 4:00 am you’re coming out of the club, you’re drunk, you’re probably not even sure which car is yours right? So the next morning I see the gouge in my paint, what am I gonna do? I got no way to prove he did it, but God Damn it, he did it. I told him, I’m gonna park here for free for a year, because of what he did to my car”

I ask coyly “so when did this happen?”

Yelling dude replies matter of factly, “about 9 months ago, it’s not like I’m gonna torture this fucker for the rest of his life, just for a year. Shit as I see it, that’s fair, after a year, I’ll leave him alone.”

The parking lot attendant approaches.

The dude politely concludes “excuse me.” He turns to the parking lot attendant and starts his tirade again
“listen motherf-cker you’re gonna park my car over here, and it better not get scratched. You Jamacian bastard.”

Ted and I look at each other and start laughing not because it was funny, but because we didn’t know what the hell else to do. Looking around our group I can’t really describe the confusion on our faces. It’s like laughing as Bam or Tom Green torture their parents. On one hand it’s totally wrong and just insane. On the other, the sheer outrageousness of the situation caused us to laugh. The yelling dude seemed like a nice guy. His boys were getting kinda antsy and wanted to go to the club but he was staying steady on the attendant’s ass.

As we all stand in utter disbelief of what we are watching, Ted asks his boys “So he does this every weekend?”

The two men look at us and reply, “every weekend, sometimes, both nights” “he was in the military for a while, and well he just gets real militant about this…” we laugh as much because we can’t believe it as it was funny. “George is just too damn militant.” They rugged men finally coral the yelling dude, and scamper off for the club.

We load up the toaster and head for home.
Life in the big city. Damn.