On becoming a comedian. Day 1, 9/20/2008 1:32 PM

I decided to become a comedian. Actually I decided it a year ago, but just remembered since I’m currently unemployed. In high school, my best friend and I said when we went off to college we were going to do stand up. That never happened. Actually my friend Ontario was the comedian. He had natural timing and instant charisma. All I wanted to do was be his comedy writer. I thought we would be a good team. He eventually got his high school girlfriend pregnant, they’re married and now he’s an elementary school teacher. I talked to him some years back, but I was prissy drunk and high, not making any sense dribbling idiotic. I wasn’t helping to dispel my high school reunion rumor that I had become a crack head.

I don’t consider myself a comedian. I consider myself a writer. I don’t even think I am funny. I am awkward. I don’t like people. I have anxiety problems.

I started making phone calls. I called my favorite Aunt and told her I was going to become a comedian. She asked me if I had had a HIV test. I was like what the fuck does that have to do with me becoming a comedian. It’s not like I was going into the army. She said she was watching the news and HIV rates up north scared her. She said I can’t be funny if I was dead. I told her if I died by slipping on a banana peel like in the cartons and busted my head, that would be funny.

I told my roommate that I was going to become a comedian. He said rent was due on the first, no fucking excuses.

I called my older sister and told her I wanted to become a comedian. She said I wasn’t funny, more annoying. She said I was actually sad and pitiful. I called a fat bitch and hung up the phone. Fat black women are the meanest people in the world. I was always afraid of her growing up. She always looked like she was hungry. I once ate her cheetos and she hit me in the head with a brick.

I told the cashier at my grocery store I wanted to be a comedian. She laughed. I was like finally, somebody got the joke