YOU DO WHAT YOU GOTTA DO

About a year before I got my job on Animaniacs I was dead broke. I remember my wife and I searching through our couch to find loose change so we could buy an 'Oh Boy" pizza. For those of you who have never had an 'Oh Boy' pizza, just know that they came frozen in packages of 2. They cost 2 dollars. It wasn't so much a pizza. It was a pizza product.

I was performing with the ACME Comedy group at the time. I was buying costumes and wigs and props and charging it to the credit card. One day my wife pointed out that we had no money to pay for all these things. I had to get some income. Quick.

A few of us at ACME were in the same boat. Although some situations were more dire than others. Mine was dire. Deeply dire. Depressingly dire.

I read in an acting magazine that a company was hiring performers for children's parties. How bad could that be? I was already performing at ACME twice a week. I can do that. Of course I can do that. I think I can do that.

Auditions for the job were the next day. I talked it up to other members of the ACME troupe. We should all go. It'll be fun. Nobody took the bait. Nobody but Adam Carolla. Frankly, I don't think he actually took the bait, I think he just went to see how stupid this was going to be and perhaps to give me moral support.

Luckily for Adam, the audition went beyond stupid towards the sublime. About 20 of us role-played, pranced around stupidly and learned how to make balloon animals. Halfway through, Adam and I started laughing. The sort of laugh you laugh in church. The laugh that won't stop. Finally, he gave up and stood in the back of the room. Adam was out. 

I, however, needed the gig. I was in.

The company had all sorts of costumes of different characters that they provided for specific parties. However, because of copyright issues, the characters couldn't be called something like "Winnie The Pooh", but had to be called, "Chubby Honey Bear." The "Ninja Turtles" couldn't be called that and were instead called, "Karate Kicking Turtle People" or something like that.

The "Ninja Turtles" were really big at the time and that's what I got stuck with the most. 

The day before my very first party, I went and got my costume from the company. I took it home and tried it on. It was basically a body tight with a fake, styrofoam shell. Then, I put the head on. The head. Oooooh. That head. 

It smelled worse in there than I can possibly describe. Actually, I could describe it, but you'd be sick. There was no way I was going to wear that head. I bought some Woolite, filled up the tub and soaked the head.

The next morning I got up and took the head out of the tub. I tried to dry it. Unfortunately, the head was never meant to be washed and was now more like a green, spongy, blob that sagged all over. It looked like one of the Turtles had been a victim of a massive shotgun wound to the temple. AND, it still smelled.

The party that day was in a very bad part of Los Angeles. BAD. I got there early and parked my car a block away. I had a half hour to kill so I just waited in the car...in costume. I didn't put on the head. I didn't want to be in that disgusting, squishy head longer than I had to. 

As I waited in the car, another car pulled up behind me. Two tough looking guys were in the front seat. They stared at me. I started getting nervous. Great. I'm gonna be shot in a turtle costume. How humiliating. 

Finally they got out of the car and walked to my car. Great. Perfect. I'm dead! I'm a dead turtle! One of the guys came up to my window. He tapped on the glass. Great. Perfect. Dead, dead, turtle.

He flashed his badge. He was an undercover cop and he wanted to know why I was just sitting in my car. I said I was waiting to do a children's party down the street. I picked up the head on the seat next to me.

He looked at me. Then at his partner. He looked at the head. Then he said, "I'm sorry." The "I'm sorry" wasn't a sorry about disturbing me. It was an "I'm sorry" you're so broke that you've dressed up like a turtle. The "I'm sorry" was an I'm sorry you're about to get the sh#@ beat out of you by young boys who are going to be VERY disappointed by your cruddy costume.  

And he was right. As soon as I walked through the door the boys could see by my cruddy costume that I wasn't real. They spent the next hour tormenting the homeless man in the stupid turtle suit. 

I spent the next five months driving from one side of LA to the other doing parties. I was mostly turtles. Sometimes I was Pooh. (I passed out as Pooh in the hot LA Summer.) I was Peter Pan once. That was horrible. 

The last party I ever did was in a park. I was Batman. Halfway through the party I saw a man standing next to a tree. He was laughing. He started waving, "Hi, Batman! Hi!!! Good party Batman!" 

It was Adam Carolla. He was beckoning me back to join the real world, regain my dignity and forever leave the land of childrens' parties behind. And, their smelly heads.

ADIOS ICELAND

As I write this I'm flying home from Iceland. What a total waste of time THAT was! Looks like I won't be buying Iceland after all. Which is too bad. Cuz, I would have been a really cool ruler. As it is now, I'm thinking seriously about suing their butts. I come all that way and even pay for my accountant to come...FOR WHAT? 

My accountant says I misunderstood. He's just mad because I'm making him sit in economy for the flight home. Good riddance! He can walk home for all I care. 

Hold on. There's the flight attendant. I'm gonna get another glass of wine.

Okay. I got my wine. So here's what happened. So a couple of days ago. Wait. I wanna get one of those hot towels from the flight attendant cuz I spilled a little bit of my wine. Hold on.

Okay. I got my hot towel and a fresh glass of wine. So anyway a few days ago my accountant calls and wants to know if I want to buy Iceland and I said yeah. He said, "Well come on by the office and we'll sign the papers."

And I said, "Heck no! If I'm gonna buy Iceland, let's fly to Iceland and do it there. I'll buy us two first class tickets."

And he said, "Cool. Okay. Yeah. I've never been to Iceland and I love first class."

So I'm all, "Yah! Let's do it! I'm buying friggin' Iceland."

So we land in Iceland and then when. Oh, wait, there's the flight attendant. I wanna get me another glass of wine and another hot towel to stuff in the guy's mouth behind me because he's snoring and I am beyond annoyed.

Okay. I got another gliss of win and I stuffed a hot towel in the mouth of the man who is sitting behind me because he's snoring and I didn't pay to hear that. Hold on. A woman in the next aisle is looking at me because I stuffed a towel in that guy's mouth. I'm gonna look back at her and be all, "You looking at me! Mind your own beeswax!"

Cool. I don't think she's gonna bug me anymore cuz I told her off really loud. Anyway, my accountant and I go to the government building in Iceland and we go to this room and there's this guy there and I said, "I'm here to buy Iceland."

And he says, "Fine." And he has me sign some papers and I give him a check and then I ask what happens now and he gives me these...these like little embossed pieces of paper and I'm all...

Hold on. There's the flight attendant. I wanna get another glass of wine and nut. 

The flight attendant says they're out of wine. BUMMER. Hold on. The snoring man behind me has a full glass. I'm gonna go get his wine and come back and finish my little story.

Okay. I got Mr. Chubby snoring man's wine. Cool. Okay. So this dude in the office hands me these pieces of paper and I'm wondering what they are. And he says, those are your bonds. Thank you for investing in Iceland's future. And I'm all, "No. No. No. I just bought your country. I don't want little pieces of paper. I want the keys. I'm the boss of you now."

And he looks at my accountant and is like, "Whu?"

And my accountant is all, "Whu?"

And I'm like, "Whu? I thought I was buying Iceland."

And the guy is all, "In a manner of speaking you are. You're buying into Iceland's future. Your investment will help this country build roads, infrastructure, bridges. Help Iceland get back on it's feet. That's what a bond is."

And I'm all, "What am I? Watching friggin' Mary Poppins? I JUST BOUGHT YOUR COUNTRY DAMNIT. NOW GIVE IT!"

Hold on. I want another glass of wine. The woman next to me is just sipping hers and I don't think she wants it. I'm gonna take it. I'll be right back.

Man. I don't know what her deal is. She said I couldn't take it and I said that she was done with it and she said she wasn't. So I just took it. The nerve of some people. 

Anyway, so I looks at my accountant and I said, "You said we were buying Iceland! And I got all excited about that. And now, all I get are some cruddy pieces of paper? You lied...you lying liar man!" Then I took the bonds and threw them in the Iceland guy's face and said I wanted my money back and he said I couldn't.

Hold on. The flight attendant wants to talk to me.

Whatever. Can you believe this? She's saying I'm being rude and loud and frightening the passengers. So I told her, "Do you know who I am? I almost bought Iceland. That makes me almost the boss of you! So BE GONE, LADY, OR I'LL FIRE YOU." Then I told her to tell the pilot that I order him to go faster.

So...I don't think she told the pilot to go faster. Just a second. I'm gonna go do that. I'll be right back.

Okay. Uhm. They've locked me in the bathroom. Say I have to stay in here till we land. This whole trip has been terrible.

Here's a picture of my cell.

I'M BUYING ICELAND!!!!

Hey, everybody! I'm in Reykvavik, Iceland! Wooo! It's cold. I don't have much time because my accountant and I are about to meet with some government people cuz...I'M BUYING ICELAND! Wow! I get chills every time I say that. Iceland! Friggin' ICELAND! I mean, it's a whole country. Whoa!

The way the whole thing came together was totally weird. I called my accountant the other day and he said that I've maintained pretty good credit even though the economy is tanking and did I want to buy Iceland. And I'm like, "Are you kidding? Iceland. Yaaaaa! I think so!"

I guess Iceland is totally broke and with my good credit I can dip into my home equity and....FRIGGIN BUY ICELAND! ICELAND!

My accountant did warn me though that I'd sorta be responsible for everybody in Iceland if I bought it and did I want all the pressure and I thought about and said probably.

I'm probably gonna throw out their constitution cuz it's in Icelandic and I don't read that. Bottom line there's only gonna be five or six laws and everyone is gonna kinda be left to do whatever they want.

I guess I'll be president or something, but since I own the country, I don't think I can get voted out cuz it's my country and I'll just tell them to leave. Or something. I gotta figure that whole part out.

Plus, with my auditions, from time to time I'm gonna have to leave my country to go to Burbank and I'll have to leave someone in charge. Probably my wife.

Plus...me and the whole family really love Puffins. They got gobs of Puffins over here in Iceland.

Anyway, I'll tell ya'll how it goes after my meeting.

I'm buying FRIGGIN' ICELAND!

DON'T MAKE IMPORTANT THINGS OUT OF CARDBOARD

A FEW MONTHS AGO...

A square piece of cardboard came off the inside of our microwave. It's only about 3 inches square and my first reaction was to just throw it away.

My wife looked inside the microwave and saw that the cardboard had been covering an opening. An ominous opening. An opening that you don't want to play with. She asked me to put the cardboard back. I couldn't figure out how to get it back on. I told her that it was okay. It didn't need to go back on. It's just cardboard.

Having grown up in communist Cuba for much of her childhood, my wife has a greater respect for cardboard than I do. In Cuba they made all kinds of stuff out of cardboard: boats, planes, car engines, surgical tools, statues, dictators.

Anyway, the little cardboard square would fall off and I'd put it on and it would fall off and I'd put it on...until last week. I just threw it out. It's cardboard. We've been using the microwave since then and it heats my tea up very nicely. Fine. 

Fearing the ominous opening that the cardboard had been covering, my wife contacted the manufacturer yesterday. She got on the phone with a customer service rep and explained that her husband is a putz and he couldn't get the cardboard back on and he didn't think it was important and...

There was a gasp on the other end of the phone. "HAVE YOU USED IT? HAVE YOU USED IT WITHOUT THE CARDBOARD? HAVE YOU? HAVE YOU? ANSWER ME!"

My wife said that, yes, we had been using the microwave without the cardboard because her husband (the putz) said it would be okay.

There was a SCREAM on the other end of the line. My wife heard a chair being pushed back in haste and then heavy footsteps running out of the room. A door opened. Then a shout. "I NEED PATTERSON! AND GET INTEC ON THE LINE! ROUTE ALL INCOMING CALLS TO CENTRAL! ALERT OLIVART, QUEEL, JENKINS AND KIRK! I'VE GOT A SITUATION!!!!!!!!"

A bunch of footsteps could be heard running into the room. A man's voice shouted, "What is it?" 

The woman's voice said, "They've used the microwave without the cardboard thingy!"

The man's voice screamed. "NOOOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOO! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! WHY? WHAT WERE THEY THINKING?"

The woman's voice said, "Her husband is a putz."

The man then said, "Alright. Let me talk to her. Let me calm down first, though. Gimme a second. I don't want to frighten her. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! WHAT KIND OF HUSBAND WOULD LET THE FAMILY USE A MICROWAVE WITHOUT THE CARDBOARD THINGY! WHAT KIND OF BASTARD...AHHHHHHHHH! Okay. Okay. I'm okay. Let me talk to her."

He then came on the line. "Hello there. I'm Patterson. I'm going to get you through this. It's going to be okay. I'm here to help." My wife thinks she heard him cry as he said those last words.

He continued. "But first. I need to ask you some questions. Do you or anyone in your family have anything growing on you that wasn't there a few weeks ago?"

My wife asked him to clarify.

"Like a third leg...or a large boil that could be another head. It wouldn't have full features yet, but you could make out two eyes if you looked close."

My wife told him that we didn't.

He went on. "Do you or any member of your family feel as though they are being followed or are following someone?"

My wife said no.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

My wife said she didn't know.

He seemed relieved. "Good. Excellent.ESP can sometimes be a symptom of the poisoning."

"The poisoning," my wife gasped!

"Mrs. Rugg," the man said. "I'm going to ask you to do something very unusual. But it's important. Can you do that for me? Can you do something unusual for me?"

My wife said she could.

"Good. Good. I want you to take you and your daughter outside. I want you to wrap yourselves in heavy duty alluminun foil. It must be heavy duty! IT HAS TO BE! Then, I want you both to stand in a bucket of distilled water and listen to Harry Belafonte songs. Not from when he's all raspy and throaty, the older stuff. Do that for 72 hours. It should dissipate any buildup."

"But what about my husband?" my wife asked.

"Do you really want to help HIM, Mrs. Rugg. Wouldn't it be best if he grew a second head? A walking testament to his vile and selfish putzyness?"

Thankfully, my wife is a kind and loving woman. 

BACK TO NORMAL

Alfredo Ruiz, Little Lord Lawyery, left yesterday. We dropped him off at the airport and then sped home. Truth be told, he's an obnoxious, little man and we're glad to be rid of him. I take it a few of you are going to use his legal services. Fine. But don't blame me if things go wrong. 

Perhaps the most annoying part of his stay was his eating habits.  After sitting at the table he would completely cover his head in an ermine shawl and...by the sound of it...attack his food. Sometimes he'd yell at the top of his lungs..."I am the conqueror! You cannot escape my teeth. Die, food!."

Anyway. He's gone back to Miami and I can once again pursue a life filled with interesting things to blog about. Like this...

YESTERDAY I MADE AN OLD MAN NOISE

I was on the couch and as I got up I went, "Yuooooooip." It was quick. I don't think my wife and daughter heard it. But I knew. When old people get up from the couch they always make a noise. I call it "the helper noise". Without that noise, they can't get up.

I MADE THAT NOISE. 

When everyone was asleep, I went back into the family room and sat on the couch. I then got up. The urge to go "Yuoooooooip" was strong. But I resisted. I practiced over and over and over. I don't want to make old man noises. I'm still in my forties. However, I fear I might be one of those to have E.O.O.M.N. (Early Onset Old Man Noise.)

My fear is that E.O.O.M.N. is usually the first stage of E.O.O.M.B. (Early Onset Old Man Behavior) and eventually E.O.O.M.F.S. (Early Onset Old Man Fashion Sense).

Truth be told, I think I might be in the grips of all three. We were at the mall yesterday. We stopped in at the book store and I told the person behind the counter that, "I want to read anything by Studs Terkel or Louis L'Amour." Then I asked if they had any Ed Ames records.

At the drugstore I felt compelled to buy easy-grip canning jars. When my wife asked why I said, "Hush, woman! To put my nails and bolts in! Now stop naggin' and get me liniment."

Perhaps most disturbing was that I started whistling the tune to Winchester Cathedral while whittling a toy boat on the front porch. (We don't have a front porch per se, so I sat in the middle of the street and yelled at kids when they came by on their bikes.) I told them all to "slow down or I'll call the police and that I know what they're up to and I have a shotgun for protection."

When my wife served dinner last night I complained that the portions were too big and that I just wanted tomato soup and melba toast.

Most telling, I think, is that while watching television I complained bitterly that the commercials were too loud and that the weather girl was a honey.

Then, while tucking my daughter in for bed I asked if she knew how to dial 911 in case daddy fell.

While I write this I'm thinking seriously about buying, front-zipper overalls for puttering around in the workshop. We don't have a workshop.

On the upside, this morning I got a call from a telemarketer that said I had won a grand prize. Yep. My own island. Yep. All I had to do was give him my credit card numbers to confirm I'm me. He was very pleasant. The island should be arriving soon.

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DO I HAVE TO?

I have an audition today...

Auditions are a lot like going to the dentist...only there's no novocain. At times, given the choice, I would prefer root canal to the experience of auditioning.

Don't get me wrong, some auditions can be enjoyable and...fun. Not fun like..."oh, let's do that again." Fun in the sense that..."oh, I didn't die." Other times you leave the auditions hoping to be hit by the largest bus you can find (preferably filled with the morbidly obese...just to give it extra mass.) The interesting thing is...you never know which it is going to be. 

These days, thanks to high speed internet, most auditions are done from the splendor of your own home. You get the copy, grab a mic, record it and send it off. If they like it, you get a callback. That's what I have today.

THE CALLBACK

The callback is a second audition. It usually means they sort of like what you did the first time. The callback is always at a recording studio. You show up and sit in a room filled with other people who have also gotten a callback. You stare at each other and wait. It's sort of like being sent to the principal's office. You're called in one at a time as if the principal want to cross examine you to find out if you know who put the razor blade in Mrs. Princh's coffee cup during recess.

I think it would be better for everyone if they had clowns and balloons and puppies to play with while you wait. Maybe not clowns. Perhaps something like a clown but not as frightening and pathetic. Maybe a nice old woman volunteer who could read us stories and give us milk.

Then it's your turn you go inside the booth and give it your best shot.

Perhaps one of the most bizarre experiences I ever had was a few months ago. In my original audition I had done the voice of the character with a thick Scottish accent and a lisp. When I got the callback, I drove to the studio while rehearsing the whole way doing my best Scottish...lisp voice. 

When it was my turn, I went into the booth and did the lines in a thick Scottish accent and a heavy lisp. When I finished, the director turned to the others in the room and talked. Now, you can never hear what their saying. You just have to kind of wait. Normally they'll talk for a few seconds and then have you do it again...and perhaps again...and again if they like where you are going with the voice. 

In this particular case, they talked and talked and talked for what must have been five minutes. Finally the director's voice came over the speakers. "Good. Okay, Paul. Let's do it again. This time, lose the Scottish accent and the lisp."

What? What? No Scottish. No lisp. Uhm. No Scottish. No lisp. Uhm. Okay. No Scottish. No lisp. I stared at them blankly. The director thought I didn't understand.

She said, "In other words. Do it the same way you just did, only this time without the accent and the lisp. Other than that. We loved it. It was perfect. Really."

I just sorta stared again while quickly thinking what to do. No Scottish. No lisp...which means...I should...I should...sound like...Me. I guess. Okay. I'll do it again. Okay. 

I did it again...only without the lisp and accent I sounded like...me. Which I knew I would. I finished.

They talked for another five minutes. Then. "Okay, Paul. We liked your energy before when you had the accent and the lisp. So do it again and sort of do the accent and the lisp...but in your head...without us hearing it. Subtext, in other words."

Oh, hell. I don't know what that means. Damn. Okay. Subtext. Damn. Okay. 

I did it again doing the accent and lisp in my head while not doing it in my voice. The result sounded like a mentally challenged infant from Paraguay. 

When I finished there was no talking this time. Just a polite, "Hey. Thanks a lot for coming in, Paul." Those words always mean...you're done. That's your cue to leave. Now, you always hope to leave the room without hearing this next sequence of words:

"Good stuff. Really good stuff. Really. Really." That ALWAYS means they hated it. ALWAYS.

Alas...the next words I heard were...

GOOD STUFF. REALLY GOOD STUFF. REALLY. REALLY.

Where's a bus?