Will the Real Roger D Please Stand Up?

Since Katy likes to call motherfucker's out on how NOT often I post shit, here's another post in the same month as the last. 

In yo face, Katy Beth.

Some of you know that I tried a stand-up comedy night a couple of months (since COVID, it could have been 4 years ago for all I know) ago and it went like this:

I went to a bar on a Monday night just to chill. Sitting, talking to some random folks at the bar, the bartender tells me there is an open mic night for comedy upstairs at 8pm. It's 6:30pm and I have had enough to even consider it. I get a little excited. I text some people to ask if I should do it. Being the GREAT friends and also dummies they are, they encourage me to do so. So I go upstairs. And sign up. And IMMEDIATELY start drinking heavily. I have HORRIBLE stage fright. Karaoke is one thing, but if you've ever been in a place where I had to give a presentation, you KNOW I suck at public speaking. And I just signed up to public speak on purpose. So. Fireball.

I tried to get anyone to come and be my hand to hold and no one showed. In their defense, I gave about an hour notice so I get it. No hate, I swear. I wouldn't go either.
The show starts. I watch several people go up and make the crowd laugh. I laughed HARD several times. With each chuckle, my confidence level is diminishing. "I CAN'T DO THAT SHIT" keeps running through my head. I get closer and closer to my turn to go. And they call me.
And. I. Am. Hammered.

Usually when I am doing karaoke or something, I can drink a couple and be cool to go. This was different. I had to APPARENTLY get hammered to even stand up. Literally.
So I walk up to the stage. And try to remember what I wrote to say. 

Three sentences come out. I got exactly ONE person to chuckle one time. And I completely forgot anything else I was going to say. I said, "Ok. That's it." And ran away like I was Wayne Campbell getting caught taking pictures on a phone pole. I would have run into a gay bar like he did except I was already at one. It was DEVASTATING. I bombed worse than Hiroshima. 

My comedian friend, Bryan Kellen (look him up - he's fucking hilarious) told me that everyone does so on the first try. His incredibly encouraging and I love him for it. But I also wanted to punch him in the throat at the same time for saying that. I ain't trying to fail! But. I get it.
So... taking his encouragement to heart, I am going to now post what I was SUPPOSED to say and hope that my thirsty ass will get the laughs I wanted to get that night if I had been able to speak english like a real person instead of a belligerent fat boy with a microphone. 

So. Likedtohearit, hereitgo.

Hello. How’s it going? My name is Roger. And I am a homosexual.

I don’t wanna say that. That’s too strong. It’s just been too damn long, I don’t even know what going on down there. It’s basically whoever touches it first. I’m like the next election. “I guess this is what we’re doing now.”

I did recently go through a breakup, though. Yea. I know. Sad. It was with my dentist. Apparently, I’m too “damaged” and “out of money” to continue our relationship. Ass hole.

He was fine, too! I met him on Tinder. Starting flirting and shit. Then asked me to come in. At the end of the day, too. So of course, in MY nasty ass mind, I was picturing the shit I done seen on PornHub.
Or the porn site of your choice…
Like, I walk in the office. He’s with someone so he hollas from the back. “I’ll be right with you!” Goddamn RIGHT you will. The last patient leaves and he calls me back. Awwww soookie soookie now!!! I seen THIS movie. I sit in the chair and he tells me hello. He says, “Put this on” and instead of a bib, he hands me a condom and shit. OOH WEE!

Instead this nigga hands me a bib and starts drilling my goddamn teeth. Instead of wanting my fucking phone number, this fool wanted my insurance group number and shit. Ain’t THAT a….

That's it so far. I'm working on the rest. The next time I go, I hope I have enough time to have the backup my thirsty ass needs so that you can be there and I don't have to get so goddamn hammered. Help a brotha out. 

Anyway. Thanks for your support and donations (hint hint) and help. I love you dearly. 

Until next time...

Life at Bowser Oaks

If you know me at all, you know that I usually move about every... ummm... 4 days or so it seems. I am not in one place too long. Mostly because of legal reasons but that's neither here nor there.

Most recently, I moved into a complex in Dallas called Bowser Oaks. And I love it so much. My apartment reminds me a lot of my apartment in New York, minus the bitchy cunt that lived across the hall. And the kitchen is bigger than the Easy Bake Oven of a kitchen I had there. But the size is comparable (that's what she said), the "central" heat and air isn't controlled by me, and the community is so nice.
Being where it is, there are quite a few people of the homosexual persuasion. They like the outties instead of the innies. And nothing is more obvious that this is the case than when the pool guy comes. He's a young buck that has that, "I probably haven't showered since I went and fucked that girl last night and I am still burping up Coors Light and Jager" bad-boy look. And when he comes to do the pool, the dudes come out to watch. He doesn't get shirtless or anything, but there are about 5 apartments that open their windows and/or doors and watch him work that pole. And by pole, I mean the one that's attached to the pool skimmer. It's pretty hilarious.

A couple of days ago, we had a little incident involving a hammer, a crackhead, and my window.

Earlier that night, I had decided to drink a bottle of premade watermelon margaritas. So around 1am, I was in the kitchen in my underwear and a tshirt making a salami sandwich. Cause what else would I be doing. All of a sudden, I hear glass breaking. Twice. I run out the front door - with my bare legs and hamster package showing. My upstairs neighbors tell me, "he went that way!" So I run in and put shorts on so that I don't get beat up and made fun of all at the same time. I go after him and, being not sober, confront him.
"What the fuck, dude? Was that you??"
"Yea, so what?"
"The fuck is your problem??"
As he walks toward me, holding the hammer with which he just spread glass across my walkway.
Still completely not sober, I wasn't afraid. I was just ready to break out my Berry Gordy's Last Dragon, Bruce Leeroy moves.
He stopped walking toward me and turned back to the street. I think he got intimidated by my dad bod and buldging biceps. And by biceps, I mean belly.
I called 9-1-1 and went back inside to grab my glasses. What I found out was that he had done the same to 3 other apartments in my complex, which is why the neighbors were outside. They heard the noise and were outside when he smashed through mine. He is standing in the middle of the street with the first cop arrives, still wielding the hammer.
"Drop it! Drop it!"
Crackhead turns and walks away.
"This your third warning, drop it! I'm going to tase you!"
He continues to walk.
The cop yells out to the group of us that gathered to both watch this dick nugget get arrested and sweep up the mess he created.
"You guys are my witnesses - I warned him!"
And taser.
And it was just as great as you're picturing.

Eventually, like, 10 other cop cars showed up. Not sure why. I guess there wasn't going on in Dallas on Thursday. They took my statement, my info, and I swept up the mess and went to bed. Didn't finish making my sandwich. Mostly because I took this as God's way of telling me to not eat that bread.

It's really the only incident that happened here and I'm a-ok with it. I get my own parking spot, the neighbors are fun, it's literally across the street from a bar, and the shower is something from Red Shoe Dairies. I already told my landlord to bury me in my parking spot because I don't plan to leave.

Come by and see it sometime! After this COVID shit is done. Don't be bringing that shit over here.

Until next time...