Prices that suck comedy cock

I tip my hat to Vino Piazza for supporting and promoting stand-up comedy in this little area, including "Men who kick comedy butt."

I tip a single finger to them for charging 25 bucks a head for admission to these events, plus a $5 deposit for a wine glass. Wine glass deposit?? Just serve the goddamn drinks! Every other venue manages to deal with flatware logistics without having to take such extraordinary measures! What's next, frisking patrons on the way out for forks and ketchup bottles?

They would have had two more attendees for their Saturday show except for these brazen prices. Pepperbellys in Fairfield is a dedicated comedy venue, is closer to the astronomically-priced Bay Area, and they charge less for nights featuring genuinely nationally-known comedians. Shit, they had Orny Adams for $15 a show, and Dana Fucking Carvey for $20!

With my birthday coming up, I would love to find a good comedy gig to splurge on, but this just isn't it. This area needs more comedy options, bringing quality up, and prices down.

Why God thinks I'm hilarious

If it's not clear, the title of this blog refers to my life's little tribulations, and my certainty that God laughs his ass off as one of the ants in his ant farm struggles, flails and does wild combat with forces no one else sees or understands. I know this because God tosses odd little things in my path just to see what I'll do. Some examples:

• The DUI program I signed up for is run by a guy whose last name is "Boire," the French word for "to drink."
• Collecting the one egg our 40-odd chickens produce per day, I slipped it into my pocket for later dropoff. It broke in my pocket during my morning chores before I could unload it. This is the second time so far.
• Getting dressed the day we took my daughter to the airport for the big goodbye, I seriously considered wearing the "World's Greatest Dad" T-shirt she bought for me a few years ago. I didn't do it, but I shoulda.

It just keeps gettin' funnier...

Nice...

Today, my wife stopped, looked at me and for no specific reason said: "Hey! I love you..." With a little smile that was genuine and coy.

Man, that was nice. I'm filing that memory away for posterity.

Airports always affect me this way

We're in line at the airport. All i can think about is putting a Paris ticket on the credit card.

Back to Utah, an imperfect familial milestone

Today is the day my daughter flies back to Utah to live with her mother again, as Fate intended it.

I haven't blogged much about it because of the negative feelings that have seeped into the whole arrangement. There are senses of failure, regret and loss that make it unpleasant to ponder, especially in print for everybody to ponder with me. My Dad and my brother (why do we capitalize the word "Dad" and not "brother"? Am I doing it wrong?) and my good friend Joe are very against it, and I don't blame them. I'm not thrilled about it myself. Unfortunately, they're human just like me, and as limited as I am in their ability to come up with a better plan, and so we roll with the plan we have now: back to Utah.

I said I'm not thrilled about it, and I'm not. That doesn't mean it's not the right thing to do. It just means it's not a perfect solution. There are signs that it's the right thing to do, if such signs are to be found at all:

• No other option made itself known, and believe me, we were lookin'
  
• Once the decision was made, the relief of said decision-making process was immediate
  
• No resistance to the idea was raised, from any of the quarters that could have arrested the process (her Mom, my daughter, etc.)

In other words, if one were looking for signs, as in: "Hey Universe, if this isn't right, let me know by fucking it up like all the other plans you determine aren't 'meant to be,'" then this absence of impedance could clearly be construed as God's rubber stamp of approval.

I have to admit to the relief of closure about the whole thing that borders on exultation. The last year hasn't been a picnic, familially speaking, and the last six months even less so. I am very much looking forward to the drive back from the airport, and the simplicity, privacy, certainty and freedom promised thereafter.

I have to remind myself that we can take pride in the fact that we took a chance, brought her out, and did the best we could for as long as we could. That's not nothing. I don't know that it's fair to paint ourselves heroically over it, but it's worth remembering. I tend to forget positives like that, and focus on the negative, searching for something to feel bad about. What a lousy habit that has become. Gotta ditch it.

And so we'll trudge forward today with the unpleasant business at hand, resolute with the sense that it's the best imperfect step we can take. It's still a bummer.