Monday, December 29, 2008

Merrrrrry Christmas! There's just something about the holidays that makes me want to dress up like the saddest Santa you ever done seen, sit on some unforgiving New York curb, and smoke a but. But that's just me...

If you need a little more cheer, how about this?

Yes friends, the prunes will hit you with a thud. That was just a glimpse from inside the New England Compound, where I am hiding out this weekend because it is easier than real life. I here's hoping your Holiday keeps you regular! See you in the New Year!

Monday, December 22, 2008

Snarkiness Foiled Again

This post is usually the post most of you look forward to all year. The 3rd Annual Holiday Tourist Pictorial. The time of year where I rope some poor bastard into following me around while I try to appear less creepy than normal as I angle to capture tourists doing stupid / cringeworthy /commendable activities. Every year I too am filled with this anticipation. Will I capture some one wetting themselves? Will someone be eating a Chiptole while wearing a Statue of Liberty hat? A Southern Senator getting a handjob in the Ramble, perhaps? You just never know.

However, on this year something was different. As I rose, I woke to the pitter pat of little raindrops. "Sure am glad I have that Power Rangers rain pancho," I nodded with a smile as I contemplated whether or not Condi's forehead might declare war on the rest of her face.

After getting dressed, I grabbed my Cannon Powershot (the official camera of Patrick Garrigan) and prepared for hilarity. My iPod, that staple of passive aggressive New York isolationism, had been left at my desk. I guess I would just have to just listen to what's happening around me I thought as a shudder shook my frame.

On my way to the train, I encountered an old lady struggling with her shopping cart on the white ice (or "whice" as it's known in some ciricles). Guess what I did then? You'll probably guess steal all the protein out of her cart to fuel my ever growing biceps -but you would be dead wrong! I helped her across the street! No, really I did that. Then as if that wasn't bad enough, when she made is safely to cleared sidewalk I said, "Happy Holidays!" Happy Holidays?! I was covered in sentimentality, it smelled like a apple cinnamon Glade plug-in, and I did not like it.

No sooner did I enter the epicenter of clumbsy, tense awkwardness that is Times Square and bring my camera to my eye, wouldn't you know it, my battery died. Too lazy / cheap to go buy a new battery, I just walked around, and thought to myself, "the city is so much different without my headphones on."

What struck me then was the calm. When I headed out of my house that morning, I expected nothing but hustle, bustle and distinct overtones of absolute panic. I didn't find that at all. The mood was content and helpful(?) Strangers talking to each other. New Yorkers giving directions without a hint of irony. It was, dare I say, picturesque.

Winter agrees with New York, and even snarkiness can take a holiday. ...for now.

EDITORIAL: Never fear, the Holiday Tourist Pictorial is not dead. Tourists look like TOTAL ASSHOLES during New Years! Hooray! Details to follow.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Tightening Santa's Belt


Has it been an awesome year or what??? Gas prices have gone up and down like Richard Simmons at a truck stop, (2) kick ass wars, and now we're in an official recession! Fucking sweet! Fortunately, none of this has effected me as I don't have a car, the military said I was too fey to join, and sales of my book (which coincidentally makes the perfect holiday gift for your loved ones this holiday season) and wise investments in cardboard boxes/single occupancy homes have wholly insulated me from the tumultuous peaks and valleys of our unstable economy.

Despite my good fortune, I am not in touch out of touch with the common man. To prove, it I use phrases like "reckon," "fried mayo balls," and "No, you can't have a sample of my DNA, Maury." Beyond these more superficial gestures though, I've decided to use this week to help people who may not be in the fortunate position that I find myself by providing a few helpful pointers to help you, the pauper, get the most out of this holiday season, and start the New Year a healthier, happier you!

A Gift That Keeps on Giving.

This year forget the Wii Fit or Elmo Live or Havoc Helis. No, this year show your family you care by arming them to the teeth. Nothing says, "oh, I'ma gonna get me my money when there's a run on the bank." quite like the warmth from the of a freshly fired Smith & Wesson.

We've all seen that holiday classic "It's a Wonderful Life." Learn from George & Mary Bailey -don't let the complete and utter collapse of our financial infrastructure ruin your honeymoon! So this season put large, barely legal guns under your Christmas trees, present them on all (8) days of Hanukkah, give them whenever you give shit to each other during Kwanzaa -your families lives might just depend on it.

Heating Bill Woes?

Did you get your heating bill this month and think to yourself, "I sure am glad I have (2) desirable kidneys?" Me too. If I had a heating bill, which I don't. Nevertheless, I understand your plight as it is the same feeling I have when I get my cable bill for On Demand porn. The cure for both of our problems: loiter more.

Yes friends, learn what our indigent friends have known for decades. Staying warm with out spending a dime is a simple matter of staking claim to a public-private place until that place closes! So turn off your heat, grab your laptop and head to your local Starbucks.

Here, you can bask in perceived importance as you play brick breaker and finally write that feel good screenplay about Phil the one legged unicyclist (poster tagline: "Phil: One Foot, Countless Possibilities") -all the while saving you money you will undoubtedly blow on artisan beers and arugula salads, you douchebag.

It's Your Money, Not Theirs

You know what eats up a lot of people's year end money? Charitable contributions. Ew. Let's think about this. Every year, you give money to some deserving organization, and how do they thank you? By sending you a year of direct mail assaults ASKING FOR MORE MONEY! The nerve.

Luckily, I have a solution that will give you that warm, fuzzy feeling while keeping you wallet chock full of dolla dolla bills, y'all! Go to your local Dollar Tree, Big Lots, or rich persons garbage can and get the most expensive stationary you can find for under $1.50. After purchasing some classy correspondence it's time to get to do some role playing -this time without the policewoman uniform. Hey-yo!

Imagine you are a well educated, underpaid development assistant for some non-profit or do good organization and write yourself a cornucopia of flowery thank you notes on behalf of these groups. Don't forget to use loopy script and include phrases like "sizable contribution," "staggeringly generous" and "we look to name a wing after you, " in your letters for maximum effect.

When people ask about all the thank you cards, and they will, reply "every year it's like passing a kidney stone, but it's so worth it." Then sigh humbly before resuming your conversation.

So that's that! I hope I made your holidays better! If so send me a big, gushy letter I'll set it next to the others. And tune in next week for the 3rd Annual Holiday Tourist Pictorial. Get into it!


20th Annual New York Cares Coat Drive. As in past years, I’m collecting coats for New York’s needy. So if you live in the (5) boroughs of NYC and have a new or gently used winter coat that you would like to contribute, please drop me a line @ and I will be happy to make arrangements to swing by and pick those up from you! Best part? FREE HUGS!

Monday, December 08, 2008

Warming You Up

For some reason, this year my landlord has opted not to turn the heat on in my apartment. Fortunately, for me I will simply make angry calls and threats not to pay this months rent. Others are not always so lucky.

This year, as in the past few years, I will be helping with the New York Cares coat drive. So if you live in the (5) boroughs of NYC and have a new or gently used winter coat that you would like to contribute, please drop me a line @ and I will be happy to make arrangements to swing by and pick those up from you!

Additionally, there are a series of cool events that you may want to take advantage of ranging from discounts at gyms to free hats and gloves to my personal favorite, free booze. Thanks so much for your help and I look forward to hearing from you!

Monday, December 01, 2008

We Chop Down Trees Better Than You Chop Down Trees

With holidays now upon us, it’s time for that most cherished of jolly seasonal traditions –anxiety induced overeating.

Additionally this is also a unique opportunity to get in the festive spirit and decorate your home! The Garrigans are good at three things: Irish jigs, selecting the perfect Christmas tree, and the planning and execution of military coups. Fortunately for the world, winter is an awful time to stage a military upheaval so we opted to go find a nifty tree!

As children, rather than going around enjoying the sights and sounds of the holidays, my sister Lise and I would use our spare time to peek in widows and judge others holiday displays. “You call that tinsel? Fucking amateurs,” Lise and I would snicker and then high five.

A lot of you are probably wondering, “why are you guys such assholes?” Frankly, I really don’t know. Our parents are really nice people. While our judgey quotient might be slightly higher than yours (and who the hell are you to judge me, I know your other Firefox tab has porn on it), what this really does is create opportunities to excel in stupid shit that no one else sees as a competition. Like cutting down the perfect Christmas tree. This Saturday we engaged in that competition that ages back to the first Olympiad –CRUSHING YOU IN CHRISTMAS TREE SELECTION.

As the sun rose on the Garrigan Compound, and I finished my favorite nude sun salutation pose, the Farting Gopher, I exhaled from my Burnt Cyan Shock rah, and thought to myself, “this is going to be the day that I select the best Christmas tree. The best Christmas tree ever. This is also the day I should do some serious manscaping, yowsa!”

After consuming a bowl of generic brand Raisin Bran Crunch, I gathered my team of parents and sibling for a pep talk:

As we enter Christmastime, I want to impart a little bit of advice. In this season of giving the best gift that you can give to others is being the best you, you can be. So much so that the best you that you are is better than the you that others are and they will be all, “thank you for giving me the gift of your superiority, can I get your dry cleaning for you?” You will then pat them on the head and say, “you’re welcome, and yes you may get my dry cleaning, but not too much starch this time it makes me itchy, okay?” Because that’s what Christmas is about, chemically laundered clothing, and gifts of Greatness. Now as we go out there on the lots today there will be lots of “families” and “youngsters trying to enjoy the magic of Christmas.” Scrape ‘em off. You have one goal and one goal alone; get the best tree on the lot. Now, the terms of my parole will not allow me to openly advocate violence, but all of you will all have unforgivingly sharp tree saws in your death-paws and accidents happen out there on the rolling hills of Holly’s Happy Home Farms, accidents happen all the time…. That’s all I’m sayin’. Does anyone have a valium to counter the ‘roid rage I’m feeling right now? No? No one? Okay. Don’t forget to wear a muff and let’s go out there and kick some Christmas ass! Hoo-rah!

With that we loaded up our intimidating Honda Fit and aptly named Truck-That-Could-Use-Some-Serious-Maintainence-Because-It-Sounds-Like-The-Entire-Exhaust-System-Could-Fall-Off-At-Anytime-Mobile or TTCUSSMBISLTEESCFOAAM for short, and headed off to Holly’s Happy Home Farms.

When we arrived at Holly’s Happy Home Farms, I realized quickly that in fact, no one was happy. No one at all. No, these people with their babies, dogs and merry hats with ear flaps had one thing on their mind, stealing my tree. “NOT TODAY ASSHOLES!” I shouted as I threw the paper cup that formerly held just the most delicious spiced apple cider you ever did taste to the ground and stormed out of the wreath barn.

The great Chinese General Sun Tzu once said, “he who wants to chop down a tree should go to a tree farm.” Having followed this first axiom to a t, I knew the perfect tree was not far away. But wouldn’t you know it, no sooner did we hit the lots, my entire team suddenly fell to skitter. Well, here, look for yourself.

The most crushing blow to morale was when my mother informed us that she wanted to have a giant Christmas. Knee-jerk reaction: Awesome! Costa Rican villa here I come. Imagine my disappointment when instead it just meant that she wanted a tiny tree so she could wake up on Christmas morning, lumber down the stairs and go, “fee fye fo fum, I smell presents –give me some!!!” and then shake the presents out from under the tree. When I told her that was an awful idea she told me –and I quote- “shut up, pinhead.” And then she ate another family’s baby.

If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s the green movement. A bunch of people telling me I can’t use my Styrofoam cups to choke river otters. I am an American, I do what I wanna do. Well, imagine my chagrin when I discovered that I had a tree hugger on my team! No really, he wouldn’t stop hugging the damn trees. Stinking hippies.

Listen, given my love of musical theatre I can understand the desire to break into dances impromptu, but when Lise performed the entire dream ballet from Oklahoma on the stump of a previously felled tree, well it was just too much. When she finished she ran over to me pleading, “I’m sorry I let the team down Patrick, it’s just that I was moved by the spirit of the dance. The hills were alive with the sounds of music!” To which I icily spit back, “the sounds of music don’t put the perfect Christmas tree in our den do they, Lisa? DO THEY?” She started crying and I took a hit of Skoal.

Disappointed by my team members, I knew it would be on me to find the perfect tree. Unfortunately, I quickly realized I didn’t know how to pick a tree. In my blind pursuit of getting a tree that was better than everyone else’s I didn’t know what made a good tree, what made a good Christmas.

Suddenly, across the glen I saw a family more attractive than mine pointing at what I guess was a good tree. Re-invigorated, I hopped on my tree sled and flew under the radar, shuttling myself directly beneath this perfect (?) tree. By the time the attractive family made their way to the tree I was able to get a good (3) hacks into the tree’s trunk. “Great minds must think a like,” I smirked and as the WASPy family walked away I gave them the finger. Just because.

So now I have the perfect (?) tree and I have trimmed it with the perfect (?) ornaments, so I will now have a perfect (?) Christmas. This concludes yet another story of how I beat you at that competition you didn’t know you were in. Seasons Greetings!


Hello Friends, it’s that time of year again where I get drunk nearly every night and hit on you at that party because that sequin top really brings out your eyes.

It’s also time for the 20th Annual New York Cares Coat Drive. As in past years, I’m collecting coats for New York’s needy. So if you live in the (5) boroughs of NYC and have a new or gently used winter coat that you would like to contribute, please drop me a line @ and I will be happy to make arrangements to swing by and pick those up from you! Best part? FREE HUGS!

Thanks in advance for your help supporting this worthy cause and I look forward to hearing from you!

Sunday, November 23, 2008

The Worst Thing That Could Happen To Me

This week the worst thing that could possibly happen to me happened.

I was covered in angry bees.

Nay! It was worse than that! I lost my beloved voice! Yes, the dulcet tones you picture as you read my profound prose was vanquished from my larynx via an infection caused by "acute chattiness."

Since we're all friends here I can honestly say to you that me without a voice is likea peanut butter and Cap 'N Crunch sandwich without the Cap 'N Crunch or a tranny without tuck tape or a pedophile without a mustache. Yeah, it's like that.

You wanna know the worst part of it? It caused me to become something I loathe...

A MIME! What becomes of a man who becomes what he detests most? No really, what's going to become of me, because I feel absolutely awful.

For those new readers to the blog, I have this thing -it's just a small thing- I HATE CLOWNS. While I apologize for the overuse of the caps lock function, this I'm only so limited in my options to share my frustration. Clowns are awful things that hide under your bed, steal your other sock, put the toilet seat up right before you go take a dump, and sell people into the sex trade. They are dregs of society. These parasites are the basest of human kind and, as I've often stated, must be stopped.

Given the mime's close relationship to the clown by virtue of awful make up, and propensity for annoying / upsetting behavior, I also hate mimes. We Americans may not agree on everything, but I think the one thing that I find universal is that no one fucking cares if that mime ever gets out if it's imaginary box. Frankly, I hope the box is made of steel and is placed out in the desert so that bastards bake -but that's just me, I think outside the box, I guess.

I have been fortunate in my life (knock on wood) to avoid most medical problems, aside from an injury-induced case of epididymitis & a tumor in my butt, but those are stories for another day. Because of this, I make for a positively awful patient. Compound this with the fact that I had lost that most treasured tool of the performing class, the natural voice.

In all honesty I never realized how much I used my voice until I didn't have it. The process went from mild frustration in not being able to communicate a story about the homeless man who opted not to stand up when the urge to urinate struck him to the total helplessness of not being able to say, "yes ma'am, I would like another Cinnabon, please." Before long I was complete relegated to the world of hand signals and striped, skin tight shirts.

Given my esteemed utterly useless, waste of a degree, I have a developed "sense of my body in the space." It wasn't long before I found myself using "my instrument" to better my day to day life whilst stricken with the affliction and embracing my inner, unwanted mime.

I know how much you kids like your bullet pointed lists, so here's an overview of where my miming took me:

  • Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home is a good movie. Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home as retold by me dressed as Marcel Marceau, using nothing but a tire swing, a tape of whale mating sounds and a little bit of Gumption is a great movie.
  • You know what is better than working from home? Miming working from home. The work is much easier and makes my brain less hurty.
  • I discovered my new love of suspenders. While I initially found that their support provided me with an unwanted cameltoe, I quickly discovered that simply adjusting the straps created a look that was both supportive and fashionable.
  • I had never gone repelling before for fear of falling and for fear of having to use my enormous, mostly cosmetic arm muscles. But I found repelling to actually be a delightful activity as a mime. There's no danger of falling off an imaginary cliff and I find fake rope to be far more gentle on my carefully moisturized hands.
  • People annoy me. I really just haaate the stupid shit people say. Do you know how to sidestep this problem? Befriend mimes. Don't like what their acting out? Much like your stages of early development, close your eyes and they cease to exist! Just like my first wife.
  • Performing in a cabaret has never been so liberating. As a cast member of the wildly received What's the Point??! (see the post below) I have felt a lot of personal satisfaction. However, like any performer, I too struggle with insecurities. Will I crack on this note? Will people like my interpretation of the song? Can I make sweet, sweet love to the hottie in the third row? You can avoid all these crippling questions by simply miming the song. And fellas, ladies love mimes. Fucking weird, but true. Just ask the hottie in the third row.
Oh, the places you'll go....

Fret not friends my voice is back and I'm using it to make up for all the dick & fart jokes that I could not communicate while rendered mute. So that's nice; you know, I feel like I'm giving back to the community that way. So on this eve of Thanksgiving weekend, I urge you to not take anything for granted. Depending on what you believe, God, aliens, and/or your mom provided you with a voice. Share your gift with the world. Who knows, tomorrow you could become a mime.

Monday, November 17, 2008

The Natural New Englander

Well-a good morrow to you, there. Fah from mah flat Ohio accent, ovah the ye-ahs, I have adawpted this hella New Englund accent, which is clearly wicked pissah.

Will i'a do this 'ere blawg entirely with this accent? No, I'm lazy.

As you may have noted from a lot of my past posts, I have been spending a lot of time lately sliding up into the nether regions of Boston & New England. To the loyal New York crowd you're probably thinking to yourself, "hey, what gives???!!!" Maybe your not thinking that, which causes me to think, "does that mean you don't think about me when I'm not around? Are you just using me for my blog? Something to read and then discard until next week? Well, is that it? Is it!? Well, I am not some word whore you can filaciate with your eyes and then throw in the gutter with sunflower seed shells, old US Weekly's and Stevie Nicks -I'M NOT!"

Sorry, it's that time of the month.

The reason for these trips are for strategic cultural exchanges between New York & Boston. You see the other night I was smoking a big fat joint (because I can) with cultural juggernaut, Boston's Chief Revolutionary War Reenactor, Dale "Camel Toe" Johnson, and he says to me, "Patrick, you're one wicked funny, dude." "Oh Camel Toe, you're just fucked up." I replied. "No man! I mean it, you're hysterical. What if I make you my Brigadier General of Lobster, dude!? My fucking Brigadier General of Lobster, man!!!"

It was at this point that I politely informed him that I was currently Ft. Atkinson, Wisonsin's Superintendent of Cheese, a role that I took very seriously. No, if I was going to take on a new civil service or fake military role, it would need to be a more passive position [insert joke here]. "Perhaps a Cultural Exchange Envoy?" I asked. "Done, now pass those fucking Sun Chips. I got the munchies SONNNNNNNN." And as Camel Toe housed a bag of French Onion Sun Chips, I began my preparation to be the Cultural Exchange Envoy to Boston.

What would the exchange be? Well, here's the deal: I do a bunch of stuff in Boston and surrounding areas and bring my unique formula for awesomeness to said activities. Sound awesome, Boston? It so is.

After the copious amounts of cannibus, I too was hungry. Where to? Why the Langham Hotel's Chocolate Buffet, of course.

When I was a kid, my parents would put me in the seat of a shopping cart and push it into a nice looking family, and then run away screaming, "you touched him last!" Aside from not being a very adulty thing to do, I developed some severe abandonment issues. As a result, I brought my Uncle Ray & Aunt Becky to help me partake of the chocolatey goodness. Relatives = safety.

The buffet was truly as sight to behold. Over (160) various forms of chocolate from indulgent chocolate cotton candy to the slightly misguided chocolate covered oil filter.

However, the cordial continuance of the chocolate confection consumption did not last long. Through yet another defect in child rearing I was quickly taken to task by the buffet mistresses.

Growing up, rather than eating at the dinner table we had to enter a cage match and fight it out like dogs. The winner of said match would then be served dinner. When a fellow consumer asked if I might pass her a custard cup, I instinctively began growling. When the buffet mistress came over and tried to reprimand me, I humped her leg, and was promptly whisked out by the scruff of my neck. "Stupid, uptight Bostonians," I concluded.

I wanted to get out of Boston. I wanted to see how REAL PEOPLE lived, not cotton socked Boston pansys. So I headed to Gloucester to document the real New England Blue Collar Experience, so that I could share the plight of the fisherman.

As Cultural Envoy, I can choose my own staff, so I selected noted Trail of Tears reenactor / hand model / photo journalist Salli, to help capture the majestic nature of the quaint fishing village. Below you'll find a smattering of our work:

THE UGLY GO DOWN: This thrillingly accurate portrayal documents the strength of the wives who lost their husbands to the temper of Mother Nature and her unforgiving seas. More specifically, it speaks to the wives willingness to drown their ugly and/or stupid children. Her outstreched hand gently says, "plese step back, the fugly one's gotta go."

THE MERCHANT MARINE: This could be one of our most touching works. The weathered face, sinewy muscular build, vintage leather blazer -this piece screams I make money throwing my line into great expanses.

Interesting fact: While these are lobster traps, they, much like my pants, are full of crabs.

WHEN I'M GOOD, I'M BAD: This installation hearkens back to Gloucester's more shadowy past. In particular this piece shares the tale of Tally, the most notorious hooker in all of Gloucester who would lure cute young things into her bordello with the promise of Battery Service -offering not only the battery itself but free installation as well. The little innocents never stood a chance against Experienced 'Ol Tally. No chance at all.

After conquering the cultural genuses of cuisine and photography, I decided I would press on to the the avant-garde world of guerilla street theatre. To do this I ventured back into Boston and staked out a corner of the T platform. No sooner did I get half way through my interpretive dance, "It's Just Sweat, Fatass: The Rise & Fall of Richard Simmons," I got stabbed in the eye by -of all things- a unicorn!!!

At this point, I resolved that perhaps Boston just wasn't the city for me, thanked Camel Toe for the rocking smoke and resigned my Envoy position.

Sometimes, people just aren't ready for all that awesomeness.


Gay animals, Me with a Gun, Songs about Masturbation. Just another Friday? Perhaps, but this Friday is musicalized! Come see the refined What's the Point?! this Friday at the Laurie Beechman Theatre @ 7pm. Mention my name and they'll charge you full price!

For more info, visit

Sunday, November 09, 2008

Repping Beantown

I am busy repping in Beantown and have limited access to blogging magic. So enjoy this picture until you can enjoy my tales. Enjoy.

Monday, November 03, 2008

On A Night Like This

Ya tie ti ti teee!

I'm so sorry that you had to start your Monday without my regular commentary, but I have a good excuse.

After a kick ass Halloween, the details of which are under lock and key for National Security reasons, I had a long day at the New York City Marathon.

Yes friends, Sunday morning I was up at 4:00am to make my way to the course to provide runners at Mile 18 with unsolicited Irish step dancing (pictured). It was a long day -what with all the shuffle hop step, hop, step, hop stepping, but it was a world event and I would not disappoint the race's 40,000 participants. They had trained too damn hard to let that happen. Ball change.

Consequently, when I arrived home I swaddled myself in 800 count Egyptian cotton, and settled in for a long winter's nap.

While yesterday, I couldn't close my eyes soon enough, this evening I find myself utterly unable to sleep.

When I was a kid there was one day that drew Christmas-like excitement to Garrigan kids -Cedar Point Day. If you are from Ohio, you're probably nodding your head furiously in agreement. Well stop, no one thinks your cool when you do that. For those readers not familiar with Cedar Point, it is the Roller Coaster Capital of the World, and a child's wonderland.

I remember being 10 or 12, and laying on the top tier of a bunk bed I shared with my brother, Brian, staring at the ceiling. Oh, how I could picture every magical moment: The second where the roller coaster skyline appeared like Brigadoon when we crossed the causeway, the smell of greasy corn dogs and sweaty people, and the parking lots littered with carcasses of seagulls, felled by Alka-Seltzer induced assassinations. Ah, memories...

There was this level of excitement, I thought I would never fall asleep. When I did fall finally asleep, I immediately peed the bed -much to the chagrin of my unfortunately placed brother. That's the kind of excitement / bladder control issues Cedar Point Day would illicit. Tonight, friends, on the eve of voting, I feel that same wet the bed anticipation.

Now, I don't know if it is all the amphetamines, the impending riots, or just a lil' case of pre-post-mortem depression caused by the death of the word, "maverick," but darn it all, I can't sleep. I'm too excited!!!

Never one to waste time, I've decided to use this anticipation-fueled energy to be productive. Why here's just a smattering of what I've done tonight:

  1. Taught myself how to tie a bow tie.
  2. Wrote and choreographed an evening of Judy Woodruff inspired haikus / interpretive dances.
  3. Bought a gun.
  4. Taped up my wrists and engaged in an extensive carpel tunnel stretching routine to avoid a voting lever-induced injury.
  5. Interstalked you on Facebook.
  6. Used Video Professor to take the mystery out of using the World Wide Web.
  7. Tidied up my underground bunker.
  8. Wrote blog post blaming Ohio / Florida / Pennsylvania for Obama loss.
  9. Wrote blog post celebrating Ohio / Florida / Pennsylvania for Obama win.
  10. One word: decoupage.
Yeah, so all this antsy-ness really hasn't been useful to any one. So, um, sorry about that. Anyway, don't forget to vote tomorrow. Kthxbai!

The Soon to Be Posted Post

I'm sooo sleepy. Wanna know why? I'll tell you. Later tonight after I get some sleep. Blogging like stew-making requires patience and a commitment to excellence. More soon.

Saturday, October 25, 2008

GWGG Endorses...

Please press PLAY:

Yeah, that's my jam. I am going to make a pronouncement, and I feel like a pronouncement needs a good anthem. Wouldn't you agree? Of course you would, I know how you feel about anthems.

Ladies and Gentlemen, here at this monument to self-importance we like to call Greatness With Garrigan Gumption, I have made strident efforts to curb the impulse to place my own political views here out on the internets, because frankly, they're just not very funny. Well, I think abortion is hilarious, but no one else seems to agree. You can't win them all, I reckon.

I, like most of the country, am a radical moderate. Middle of the road. To folks back in Ohio I'm a liberal heathen. To my New York crowd, a heartbeat away from becoming a Republican. Maybe it's my contrarian nature, but I like that. I believe in a strong military. I believe in personal responsibility. I believe in social freedom. I believe that I have been blessed to be born in this country and I should have to pay my fair share. In other news, I believe in the deliciousness of Cinnabon.

Because of this duality, I've watched the run-up to the election like a hawk. A wildly attractive, sadly talonless hawk. In so doing, I tried to give both candidates a genuinely fair shake.

The Endorsement

After careful review, and (unanswered) requests to both candidates for a gift bag and Cabinet-level position, Greatness With Garrigan Gumption endorses:

Throughout the early season, I watched with glee as candidates ran the campaign gauntlet. Mostly, because it allowed me the opportunity to post pictures like these:

When Hillary was knocked out, I was one of the scorned 18 million who considered McCain an option. McCain's stances, choices, and words made this a very short honeymoon.

All the big ticket items, left me sad faced.

Iraq: Stay until we're done. As someone with family members currently in Iraq, that's not a plan. At this point, 'should we have gone to Iraq' is academic to me, what we're going to do now is the question. I am one who will concede that the surge has worked, but this success by our talented military is moot if it doesn't forge a path to getting family safely home.

Economy: “The issue of economics is something that I’ve really never understood as well as I should.” -John McCain (Boston Globe, 12/18/07). Holy shit! I don't really understand the economy either but I'm not running for President.

Health Care: Opposes universal health care. Now, I'm not advocating a socialist state. (Unless it means we get to return to those cool, vintage red propaganda posters, 'cause I would really like one of those framed over my couch to compliment the one I have of a monkey drinking vodka RIGHT OUT OF THE BOTTLE. Silly monkey....) But as someone who spent years with sporadic or non-existent health insurance, the lack of options is terrorizing. To write it off as a non-issue or offer a piddly tax credit ain't the answer when so many people are in this same position.

The final straw came with the announcement of Sarah Palin as his V.P. pick. If I am to be honest, it is a fact that I want to lay her down on a bed of roses, for tonight I sleep on a bed on nails. I want to be just as close as the holy ghost is, and lay her down on bed of roses. That aside, her nomination is an insult to the ticket and the GOP loyal. It's particularly insulting to moderate Republicans such as Tom Ridge, Christine Todd Whitman, and (for the closeted gay vote), Charlie Crist who would have been qualified, effective choices to sway Independents.

Oh, and if she says maverick one more time, I'm going to gouge out my eyes.

Overall, the tone of McCain's campaign has been angry and divisive. We've had that for the past (8) years and my ears hurt.

Which brings me to why I've come to Team Obama.

I LOVE CLADDAGH RINGS! I believe we deserve better.

In 2000, when W. was elected, I was like, "eh, that sucks." In 2004, my response was, "you've got to be fucking kidding me." Since then I've been hoping for a day when things would be better. I see the promise of that in Obama.

I want a country where by the time I have kids, I won't have to sell my remaining kidney (the other was taken from me during a stint in Mexico City), to allow my kids the opportunity to go to college. A country where when I inevitably contract some exotic disease, I won't have to file for bankruptcy to pay the bills. A country which is again respected in the world and not a punchline to a joke about arrogance and ignorance. I see the promise of that in Obama.

There have been numerous assaults to stir up fear and resentment. He's an Arab terrorist. He's a socialist. And my personal favorite, he's too smart. I want my President to be smarter than me. One time I made out with a girl I didn't know at Blockheads because she said she liked my pecs. Prideful, not smart. We currently have a President who would make a choice like that, and he's a crap President.

The thing is there are more things that unite us than divide us. To my more conservative friends, I may not share your views on social wedge issues -but on the big things- the things that directly affect your day to day life, I'll bet we're not too far apart? In fact, I bet we would have a delightful dinner if we were given the opportunity, and you picked up the check. While open minded, I'm also very cheap.

I make jokes here, but seriously think about where we are right now. Is this where you want to be? If so, I think that aligning yourself with McCain is a good play. Under his leadership -and I say this with genuine respect for the man- the next (4) years will be a continuation of where we are. I don't think most people would say this is where they want to be.

I passionately believe the right vote for this country is Barack Obama.

Regardless of where you are in the spectrum, I strongly encourage you to vote. If you are Obama leaning, vote November 4th. If McCain leaning, remember your voting day is November 5th. I kid. I kid....

Beyond that, what else you can do? Can you donate time to make calls? (IF SO, CLICK HERE). No time? Can you spare $15 (c'mon that's 2 beers, you alchy...)? (IF SO, CLICK HERE)

This is really important and will make a difference. With 8 days remaining, a whole lot can happen between now and Tuesday.

We stand at the precipice. Please don't make me jump off it.



Sunday, October 19, 2008

C'est ne post pas


Le visage vous voyez à votre gauche l'est-ce que visage souriant est votre vraiment en faisant ses débuts le Tour international de l'extrêmement réussi "Quel est le Point ?!" à Montréal.

Beaucoup d'entre vous demandent sans doute ce qui entre dans un Tour international. La réponse : beaucoup. Là répète, il y a des visas qui doivent être obtenus, il y a des machinistes d'un groupe rock en tournée qui doivent être loués, il y a 4 et les hôtels de 5 étoiles qui doivent être réservés - on me dit.

L'est le tour n'était pas différent sauf étaient allaient juste au Canada, tous nos supports y correspondent ces gens de chinois de sacs portent autour d'et nous sommes restés dans un charmant, B*B encore abordable.

Les voyages peuvent dans le monde entier avoir c'est le propre ensemble des considérations et des questions : "puis-je ouvertement demander aux prostituées le sexe ?" "Comment m'occupe-je du fait que je suis du lactose intolérant dans un pays où tout est servi avec cheese ?" Finalement, la question chaque fois que l'on va à un pays parlant français, "fait j'ai à l'annonce ooh, la la à la fin de chaque expression ? "(vous faites).

J'ai pris toutes ces peurs et incertitudes dans le pas comme j'ai avancé à nos Voisins au Nord.

Sur notre arrivée il était évident qu'il y ait beaucoup d'anticipation entourant notre visite. Chaque où nous sommes allés des posters vantant les mérites du fracas la Révision de Comédie de New York a été plâtrée. Les foules d'adorer les fans nous parviendraient et demanderaient :

Heyyyy, est-ce que vous êtes le Quels sont les gens de Point ? Vous êtes très bizarres, ils diraient. Nous ferions un signe de tête dans l'appréciation faux-humble, avec la conscience intelligente que nous étions en fait, "la merde."

Beaucoup comme être un maître d'arts martiaux, que je suis aussi, la clé à l'utilisation prudente de votre pouvoir sait quand. laisser votre lustre de pouvoir intérieur. Sauvez-le pour le spectacle j'ai pensé, le sauver pour le spectacle.

Quand nous sommes arrivés au théâtre après une sortie voyant vue brève j'étais égaré pour constater que nous n'avions pas reçu d'affichage supérieur. Qui a fait, vous pourriez demander ?! La Reine Traîne! Oui, fait rebondir du vestiaire d'étoile de mon Tour international par la Reine Traîne. Ce ne serait pas.

Donc je suis retourné à mon Vestiaire d'Avance de Soutien, (qui n'a pas la cuve de pied de griffe exigée dans tous mes cavaliers de talent), a saisi les perruques voyantes quittées par la Reine Traîne et leur a mis le feu. Personne n'allait me pousser autour de, j'ai résolu.

Que je ne savais pas est cela traîne les reines ont un sens maternel de leurs perruques. Vous savez, la façon que les ours font et la Reine Traîne m'est venue complet penchent!

Nous nous sommes livrés à la Bataille Mortelle à l'air d'un méga-mélange de meth-enduced. Quand la musique est venue à une fin, j'étais sur le cri d'étage. S/he avait emporté mon vestiaire et ma dignité. Touche Tirent la Reine, touche.

Le Canada m'a cassé, des amis. Oui, le Canada et un portage de stylet traînent la reine m'a cassé. C'est que j'ai appris de mes voyages :
  • Ne quittez jamais votre maison. La Reine Traîne vous recevra.
  • Le français est une langue agréable. Si vous allez à un pays qui le parle et vous ne faites pas, vous vous sentirez légèrement muets - et je crois qu'est introduit dans la langue aussi.
  • Finalement, moins de réalisation et de plus d'une réaffirmation, un brie et moi n'est pas d'accord.


The face you see at your left is the smiling visage of yours truly while making his debut International Tour of the wildly successful "What's the Point?!" in Montreal.

A lot of you are probably asking what goes into an International Tour. The answer: a lot. There's rehearsing, there are visas that need to be obtained, there are roadies that need to be hired, there are 4 & 5-star hotels which need to be booked -I'm told.

The is tour was no different except were were just going to Canada, all of our props fit in those bags Chinese people carry around, and we stayed in a charming, yet affordable B&B.

Traveling internationally can have it's own set of considerations and questions: "Can I openly ask prostitutes for sex?" "How do I cope with the fact that I am lactose intolerant in a country where everything is served with cheese?" Finally, the question whenever one goes to a French speaking country, "do I have to add ooh, la la to the end of every phrase?" (you do).

I took all these fears and uncertainties in stride as I made my way to our Neighbors to the North.

Upon our arrival it was obvious that there was a lot of anticipation surrounding our visit. Every where we went posters touting the smash New York Comedy Review were plastered. Throngs of adoring fans would run up to us and ask:

Heyyyy, are you the What's the Point people? You are very funny, We would nod in faux-humble appreciation, with the keen awareness that we were in fact, "the shit."

Much like being a master of martial arts, which I also am, the key to prudent use of your assets is knowing when to let your inner power shine. Save it for the show I thought, save it for the show.

When we arrived at the theatre after a brief sight-seeing outing I was distraught to find that we had not received top billing. Who did, you might ask?! The Drag Queen! Yes, bounced out of the star dressing room of my International Tour by The Drag Queen. This would not stand.

So I went back to my Supporting Lead Dressing Room, (which does not have the claw foot tub required in all of my talent riders), grabbed the garish wigs left by The Drag Queen, and set them on fire. No one was going to push me around, I resolved.

What I didn't know is that drag queens have a maternal sense of their wigs. You know, the way bears do, and the Drag Queen came at me full tilt! We engaged in Mortal Combat to the tune of a meth-enduced mega-mix. When the music came to an end, I was on the floor crying. S/he had taken away my dressing room and my dignity. Touche, Drag Queen, touche.

Canada has broken me, friends. Yes, Canada and a stiletto-wearing drag queen has broken me. This is what I have learned from my travels:
  • Never leave your home. The Drag Queen will get you.
  • French is a nice language. If you go to a country that speaks it and you don't, you will feel slightly dumb -and I think that is built into the language as well.
  • Finally, less of realization and more of a reaffirmation, brie and me do not agree.

Monday, October 13, 2008

You Guys Are Swell

Hip. Irreverent. Racy. Scandalous. Itchy. These are just a few of the words used to describe this illustrious page of the internets. One word that has never been connected with this here site, humble. Until today....

Yes friends, today I hung my self-involved hat on my superego chifferobe and walked for Pancreatic Cancer Research! Over the course of this week, I was overwhelmed by the generosity of friends and family. Team ECON 101 (pictured above) raised upwards of $3,000! A truly exciting achievement.

That said, I just wanted to take this week and say a humble "thank you" to all those who sent positive thoughts and dolla, dolla bills my way. It was a great event, thank you so much for your support!

PS- If you'd still like to donate I believe you can still do so by clicking here!


Monday, October 06, 2008

Not So Heartless

Yes, you will find your dose of dick and fart jokes below. But in THIS space, I wanted to let you know that I will be doing the Walk for Pancreatic Cancer Research in Boston, Sunday Oct. 12. My sister's boyfriend's father passed away from pancreatic cancer in 2005, and so it is something that is near and dear.

What's that? You want to give me money for my efforts? Too kind. You can do so by clicking here or here or here. Click whichever you want, they're all going to lead you to my walk page. Seriously, every little bit counts*. If you are a Boston GWGG fanatic (and who isn't at heart) you can walk with me by clicking here, registering and joining team, ECON 101.

Regardless, thanks so much for your help. Now if you'll excuse me I really must stretch.

*Except for pennies. Pennies don't count. Pennies are a stupid currency that should be done away with.


Related Posts with Thumbnails