One Stupid Little Joke

Earlier along the way to stand-up comedy

From the Archive, February 2013: Wrote this right before giving a toast at my friend Kent’s birthday.

I've been carrying a new joke around with me all day.

It's been an upside down pop bottle cap in my shoe. It's been a burr in my britches, just tagging along and irritating the hell out of me.

It's such an irritating little bastard, it makes me want to keep mixing metaphors just to spite it.

It's not so much that it's been following me around, as that I've been chasing it — turning it over again and again, trying to understand it, trying to get it right.

I'm on my way to my friend Kent's 40th birthday party. The joke’s about him — and at his expense — and I can’t wait to hurl it at him when I celebrate him in a speech.

The most important thing, of course, is expressing how much his friendship means to me.

But what's weighing me down with this little bastard of a joke is this:

Will it get a laugh, a smile, a flash of joy? Or will it just land with a confused look — Huh?

One stupid little joke.
It matters to me.

This was originally published on a blog I kept back then. One of my workmates left a comment under the post, asking, How did it turn out?

I never answered at the time. But I’ll answer now:

It slipped right in just like I wanted it to.
Nice…