Tomorrow night is the show I’ve been waiting on and dreading. Sure, M. was sweet enough to get the ball rolling, but he could have just shot me when he had the Berreta in his hand that time.

Anyway, it is for a good cause and if I don’t stiffen a la my first attempts at stand-up comedy or projectile vomit on the audience, it should be a good time. One more time, check out this website: http://raptorhead.com/comedy.html.

In unrelated to my self-loathing pursuit of jolly laughter, I found out what my raise was the other day. Considering through the luck of the draw and a change in policy I’m getting it as of 1/1/06, rather than the June 1 date discussed at hire, it’s pretty goddamn sweet. Plus it’s more than I expected, and there appears a slight threat they might check it out in June anyway and see what’s what when I crack a year.

That and the fact that the other day the president shouts down the hall to me, “Hey, D., did you see The Aristocrats?” makes me think it was an OK idea to take this job. (Better yet, he followed that with greeting my somewhat intensely serious boss (who’s yet to see hear the dirty joke of a movie) with a riff akin to the opening, “So a man goes into an agent’s office…” For a split second I thought he was going to launch into it. Would have been awesome.)

Even further afield of unrelated, the Shitboard at the Comedy Studio continues to haunt my hopes and dreams. A boy named “BarryK” whose douchiness is so extreme it’s boring actually PM’d me “Your about as funny as a sunburn. In fact a sunburn is actually funnier then you.”

I only wish I still had nine-year-old nephews, so they could help me craft the perfect response. (Sidenote: he appears to have attended the high school my uncle taught at, but he’s so boring I can’t bring myself to do any due deligient like detective work.)

As M. points out, many of the arts include delusional dreamers with no discernible talent on one end and geniuses on the other. And, it seems like comedy draws out and tosses together the extremes even moreso.

I sure wish I could fly back to Boston and punch the kid.