Considering the fact that my last few posts have had absolutely no relevance to grass roots stand-up comedy whatsoever, I fear this blog is slowly turning into another below average blog following the life of someone nobody cares about. Sounds a bit harsh, but let's face it, I'm not wrong.
The thing is, I just haven't had the time or energy to get down to see any comedy from the festival, let alone do any. I've actually found it quite hard to get back into the rhythm of it all now that I'm in a strange new country. I've gone as far as making contact with a woman that runs an open mic night here every Wednesday, which I have been meaning to get down to for the last three weeks but things keep getting in the way. If it hasn't been work or rugby injuries, it's been pure lack of motivation. I'm also having a few nervous moments where I let my mind wonder and start imagining, "What if Kiwi's are really nasty hecklers?" or "What if their sense of humour is completely different to Australia's and I crumble on stage?". I guess if I'm honest, I've been putting off getting back into it as much I have actually been too busy.
The idea of performing on stage scares the shit out of me. But I do enjoy it because you get a huge adrenaline buzz and an awesome feeling if it goes well. However, I'm not an arty, creative, performing type person, I'm more of a "Have a laugh with the lads" type person. As news trickled home that I was now doing stand up they all probably pissed themselves laughing at the thought of me dying on stage. I know this for a fact because I would do exactly the same. I never had the urge to try stand up, although (slightly vainly) I would consider myself to be a funny person. I only got into it because I happened to live with a guy that did it. The only reason I mention any of this is because I feel the need to explain how out of my comfort zone I am when I perform. I get a truly bizarre "I can't believe I did that" feeling when I think back to the gigs where I performed in front of a few hundred people.
One other thing that is slightly off-putting about getting back into it here, is the fact that I don't know anyone here within the comedy circuit. At least in Oz I had the guys at the workshop I could bounce ideas off before I use them. I also had my friends within the Melbourne circuit that I knew would help me find the positives in bad gigs. I'll do a little name drop here because I feel they need a mention, but Dil Ruk, Greg McDonald and Nick Hawkins were all good friends of mine in Melbourne and I miss having them around now.
That's more than enough soppy and negative talk now. Let's talk about something more uplifting. I had a guy fall off a ladder at work last week and break four bones down his right hand side. That was fun. He ended up having huge screws fitted into his pelvis and smaller ones into his wrist. He flew out from Oz to come and move the mechanics hoist at the back of our workshop. Not only did he not manage to move the hoist, but the landlord came in just after he went to hospital to tell us it was in our contract that we don't move the hoist. What a pointless and painful trip for the guy that ended up in hospital. This is the fun and games I deal with on a daily basis.
I've been told by my boss that, if I want, I can have a dog here. I'm not sure what the landlord would think of this but I'm seriously considering it. I love dogs and have wanted one for ages. In England if you don't have a dog, you don't really think about getting one because the only time you ever see one is when the owner is out doing the shit stuff like walking it and putting all it's little poos into wee bags to chuck away. That doesn't really sell the idea of having a dog to me.
But in Oz they have puppies for sale in shop windows. Really cute little puppies that just anyone can walk in and take away that day. It's incredible how much you can want a dog after only seeing it for five minutes. So we may end up with a dog. The only problem being, what happens when we move on and stop working here? The boss told me it would be a work dog and the next people here would look after it but, a) I don't think I will be able to leave a dog after getting so attached to it, and b) I will be leaving the care of my dog to someone I have never met before. Both are things I'm not sure I can do.
So that's the latest update from me. As you can see, not much stand up comedy going on here at the moment. I promise though, I will get down to one of the open mic nights so I can at least report on what the standard is like here. I might even take some photos so you have some eye candy to look at next time.
If you are someone who has read this blog more than once, whether it be because you know me or you are just curious to find out if it will get any better, I feel I should thank you for your patience and apologise for my lack of relevant writing material. Hopefully soon enough I can get back to writing about how unfunny I am on a public scale. That will be nice.
Peace,
Sean
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Sunday, May 8, 2011
How Did I End Up Here.........
Just this morning I took steps to my first New Zealand gig. It was only the little tiny wee step of writing an e-mail address down of a venue that does open mic nights but a step none the less. I also found out this morning that a comedian friend from Melbourne is doing a show in the New Zealand Comedy Festival at the end of this month and I'm going to make an extra effort to pop down and see him.
But, for today, I thought I would explain the situation myself and my lovely girlfriend Susie (I don't have to be nice to her on here because the bitch doesn't even read my blog but I will be because I love her) have found ourselves in. We flew into Auckland on a Tuesday a few weeks ago, I forget the actual date and I'm far too lazy to look into it. I then started working here the following day. I was told by the guy that hired me that there is a nice little flat above my place of work that we could live in rent free. By the sounds of things, it was all looking rosy.
Before I get into the details, we moved in because it is rent free (who would turn down free accommodation as a backpacker?). But let me just describe the place. I'm working at a campervan rental company which is located on an industrial estate outside of Auckland. There is nowhere within walking distance to buy food from and one of the factories around here must sell burnt pubic hair or something because that's what the area constantly smells like. The place we are actually in is basically a big warehouse with about fifty vans parked inside. And it is understandably dirty. The floor in our "flat" is stained with a non-descript brown substance that doesn't seem to want to be cleaned off. When we arrived, every surface in the room was covered in either dust, cobwebs or dead flies. It's not too much better now to be honest because we're both pretty lazy. The bed is approximately 37 years old and has a distincively different stain from each person that's slept in it. When we get into our respective sides at night, the mattress collapses and we both roll into each other in the centre of the bed. Basically it's not the The Ritz. In fact it's not even a Travelodge.
The other day I spotted a mouse running across our kitchen floor. As a man it's in my DNA code to want to hunt this mouse and exact revenge on it for intruding in my private area, so I went out and bought a couple of mousetraps. I was eagerly anticipating and kind of Tom and Jerry, battle of wits, man vs wild type encounter and strategically placed my mousetraps around the building where I thought mice might go. I was willing to play the waiting game and new it might not happen overnight. The next day I woke up and checked the trap. What I found was a dead little mouse with it's jaws still locked around a big chunk of peanut butter. It was quite sad really. I was disappointed at the fight it had put up.
I scooped it up and chucked it in the wheely bin outside. A fitting end to a noble foe. I have since set more traps up but have only caught one other mouse. Perhaps the concerned wife of the first mouse, who went out in search of her little mousy husband but met a similarly swift end. Who knows.
Anyway, this was just a little update to keep your apetites whetted. Oh and before I forget, I have had 13 views in 11 days since my last post. Which means that, presumably, those 13 people googled "Porn, Vaginas and Penis Pumps". Interesting.
I'll catch up soon.
Sean
But, for today, I thought I would explain the situation myself and my lovely girlfriend Susie (I don't have to be nice to her on here because the bitch doesn't even read my blog but I will be because I love her) have found ourselves in. We flew into Auckland on a Tuesday a few weeks ago, I forget the actual date and I'm far too lazy to look into it. I then started working here the following day. I was told by the guy that hired me that there is a nice little flat above my place of work that we could live in rent free. By the sounds of things, it was all looking rosy.
Before I get into the details, we moved in because it is rent free (who would turn down free accommodation as a backpacker?). But let me just describe the place. I'm working at a campervan rental company which is located on an industrial estate outside of Auckland. There is nowhere within walking distance to buy food from and one of the factories around here must sell burnt pubic hair or something because that's what the area constantly smells like. The place we are actually in is basically a big warehouse with about fifty vans parked inside. And it is understandably dirty. The floor in our "flat" is stained with a non-descript brown substance that doesn't seem to want to be cleaned off. When we arrived, every surface in the room was covered in either dust, cobwebs or dead flies. It's not too much better now to be honest because we're both pretty lazy. The bed is approximately 37 years old and has a distincively different stain from each person that's slept in it. When we get into our respective sides at night, the mattress collapses and we both roll into each other in the centre of the bed. Basically it's not the The Ritz. In fact it's not even a Travelodge.
The other day I spotted a mouse running across our kitchen floor. As a man it's in my DNA code to want to hunt this mouse and exact revenge on it for intruding in my private area, so I went out and bought a couple of mousetraps. I was eagerly anticipating and kind of Tom and Jerry, battle of wits, man vs wild type encounter and strategically placed my mousetraps around the building where I thought mice might go. I was willing to play the waiting game and new it might not happen overnight. The next day I woke up and checked the trap. What I found was a dead little mouse with it's jaws still locked around a big chunk of peanut butter. It was quite sad really. I was disappointed at the fight it had put up.
I scooped it up and chucked it in the wheely bin outside. A fitting end to a noble foe. I have since set more traps up but have only caught one other mouse. Perhaps the concerned wife of the first mouse, who went out in search of her little mousy husband but met a similarly swift end. Who knows.
Anyway, this was just a little update to keep your apetites whetted. Oh and before I forget, I have had 13 views in 11 days since my last post. Which means that, presumably, those 13 people googled "Porn, Vaginas and Penis Pumps". Interesting.
I'll catch up soon.
Sean
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