Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Stand-up for your love rights

Did Stand-up tonight at the Front cafe and gallery in Lyneham as part of a regular monthly gig they have with about 7 or 8 comics on the Bill including an MC who came up from Melbourne (oooh Melbourne, edgy)

I gotta say I loved it. I think I did pretty well, got some good laughs, some good ad-libs. I felt very comfortable.

This was my third time doing stand-up. I also did Raw Comedy in 2004 and 2006 when I really didn't feel like I performed to my expectations -- just came away disappointed. But this, this was great.

But the August gig is booked out -- I probably won't get on the bill so may have to wait until September...

Monday, July 09, 2007

City meet surf, knees meet your doom

Yes, I've just signed up for the City2Surf fun run. Any other local [local to the run, I'll have to travel to be a local for this] bloggers feel like coming for a run? We could carry a giant banner that says: "Super blog friends make the best friends!!!"


Sunday, July 08, 2007

[Cross-posted at Snarkeology.]

[I was walking down the street, whistling and minding my own business, when I saw a car hit a tree and burst into flames. Heroically and without a thought for my own safety, I pulled the driver from the burning wreck which was just seconds away from exploding. She turned out to be J.K. Rowling and in return for my selfless deed she handed me a page from her new book, the final Potter installment, Harry Potter and Deathly Hallows. I present it here for your interest.]

In an earlier scene of the uh, movie which hasn't been made yet, Hermione and Harry discuss quidditch tactics when Ron notices a mysterious ghostly sandwich for the first time. Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, Mama Cass Elliot looks on, disgusted at their lack of respect for the new Minister for Magic, Mal Brough (not pictured).

Before Harry could react Voldemort raised his wand and another jet of green light streaked at him, knocking him to the cold flagstones of the crypt.

"You are a fool to defy me, Harry, like your parents were, like Dumbledore was." A dark smirk spread across the Dark Lord's ashen features like a slick of oil. "Only your fate will not be destruction, your fate will be to rule the world at my right hand."

"No!" Harry screamed and dove across the floor towards his wand but Voldemort moved quickly, too quickly.

"Paralytica!" He said and Harry felt something cold brush against his heart. He fell to the stone again, harder this time where he remained, staring upwards, seeing and hearing all. In a twirl of his cloak, Voldemort transformed hismelf into the image of Ron, grinning fiercely in a sickening parody of Harry's friend's true smile.

And then Harry heard a noise which almost stopped his heart. Hermione. He suddenly heard her voice and her careful footsteps. No! Harry screamed within his silent rigid body. No! Get away! That's not Ron! But it was no use, he was unable to make even the smallest sound.

"Oh, Ron," she said. "Ron! I was so afraid that you'd be hurt! And where is Harry?" 'Ron' gestured down at Harry's supine form.

"It's OK, he's just sleeping. Old Voldy must have hit him with some pretty powerful stuff before he went down. Pooped poor Harry out and now he needs a rest. He'll be fine. Here, have something to eat. I bet you haven't eaten since breakfast. You're no good to Harry starving to death, are you? Eat this." Ron/Voldemort produced a strangely glowing sandwich from under his coat which Harry immediately recognised as the fearsome throat-blocking Deathly Hallows sub. No! He screamed silently inside again. No!

'Well I am a little peckish,' Hermione said, tearing delicately at the sandwich with her small incisors. And then it began. The terrible choking which Harry had observed in Hogsmeade. The choking from which there was no return."

Amazing stuff, huh? Bad luck about Hermione, eh? Still, Harry gets Voldemort in the end.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Woe is freakin' me (out)

I just found this old post of Killer-rabbit's (took a while to get around to my customary ego-surfing).

(Yes, this is another 'why don't people like me?' post. And yes I've been doing a few of these of late. And yes, this is a large part of the reason for the birth of Snarkeology. But this is a different kind of whiny post. This is a whiny post looking for answers.)

I used to post a when crustaceans attack and then took an 18-month hiatus and came back with this site. Periodically, people tell me (as KR did above): 'dude you are teh shit, teh funy and probably teh spunky hotness too for all I can see. I want to have your little comedy babies.' This is nice -- don't get me wrong, this is not what I'm whining about.

It's the fact that despite that surely though I'm on the 48th percentile of quality bloggers in a world of 7 billion bloggers (everybody on Earth has at least one, some have two) I can't seem to pull much in the way of readership. My all time high is 43 hits in a day (and the bottom is about 5). Some other bloggers bend down to scratch themselves and come back to find more hits than that...

Also -- not so many comments but I suspect these two things are linked in some unknowable fashion.

It is with pointless life-characterising envy that I see other newer bloggers zoom past me in the readership department. Wuhuh?

So what am I doing wrong? What am I not doing at all?

Comments, er, welcome. Please don't feel the need to just say 'dude you are teh lite of teh world, please don't ever bring the darkness for it will be a world of teh pain for teh me' because as nice as that is (and it is nice!) I just want to avoid making the mistakes of the past (which Germany wasn't able to do so why should I be any different?)

Are the any particular technical tricks that work a treat? Someone I should be sleeping with? (Because I tried that with my wife and it doesn't bring me any hits I can tell you).

And I promise promise promise this will be the last such whiny post until the next one.

Monday, July 02, 2007

Snarkeology is up

The new group blog Snarkeology is up!

And oh my God is it punk rock! (In a very minimal, early, garage band kind of way where everyone is 15 and the guitarist hasn't turned up yet because he has soccer practice).