Comedy in this city is on the upswing. Just ask Mike and Robert Lariviere, the brothers behind Mad House, a big comedy club set to open in Horton Plaza in November. Our comedy scene is unique, too. As San Diego comedian Allison Gill puts it, “Unlike L.A., we are not inundated with droves of unfunny ass-hats.” At least not yet. Lots of the comedians we talked to described the San Diego scene as still young but growing faster than a hipster's beard. So, here are a few of the funny folks you can find live, onstage working their butts off for laughs at venues around town. Some of the jokes are dirty, so keep this page away from the kids.
So, I like sex, but I like it a little weird. You know, sort of kinky—left of center, if you will—and the guy I'm dating right now knows this. So, the other night he asked me, “Do you want to try rape fantasies?” I said, “No.” He replied, “That's the spirit.”
I'm poor, but I'm American poor, which is a big difference. I don't have to hike to a river to get water. If there's a fly on my face, I swat it immediately. Christians have never given me any money, ever. Seventeen cents a day is not going to do anything for me. I lose more than 17 cents when I take the keys out of my pocket and I'm too lazy to pick it all up—just the quarters. I'm American poor: I have an iPhone and a laptop. I have two devices that I can use to go online and see that I have no money at all! And in the off chance that I get depressed about it, they just release a new Angry Birds and I'm happy again. In this version, they're in Brazil!
I did the gayest thing I've ever done in my life today. I tried the Shake Weight. I was at Walmart, and they had one opened, so I just had to see what all the fuss was about. It felt pretty good—you could feel the burn and everything. But, just out of instinct, I kept spitting on it. I don't think you're supposed to do that.
I tried hot yoga recently. That's where they turn the heat up in this room until it feels like you're on the surface of the sun. Then they make you do impossible stretching moves while listening to pan flute music and the whole time you're just trying your hardest not to fart. That's hot yoga. Basically it's a preview of Hell and I don't want to go there.
My mom keeps telling me to find a girl to spend the rest of my life with. My father always tells me the opposite. He says, “Son, don't listen to your mother. Dont ever get married because when you do, your wife never wants to have sex.” I never know what he's talking about, though, because I sleep with married women all the time.
Every time I see a really old couple, like old, like in their 70s or 80s, just walking through a park or sitting on a bench or holding hands, I just put my hand on my chest and think, “Awww, one day soon, one of them is gonna be so sad.”
I don't get the argument against gays having kids, 'cause they should have priority. They have to put forethought into it. The gay kids at my high school weren't the ones missing prom because they couldn't find a babysitter. That's because you'll never find two gay dudes getting hammered, and then stumbling into an adoption agency at 3 a.m. bent over a desk filling out paperwork and waking up hung-over the next morning saying, “Dammit! We really should have put a cap on that pen!”
A lot of people have those stickers on the back of their cars, the ones with the stick-figure family with everybody's name under their respective stick figure. I have one of those stickers, too, but mine is just one stick figure that says “Kyle” underneath it, and under the blank area of the window where a wife and kids should be it says, “Freedom.”
I get bothered by a lot of things that most people don't notice. I like boobs, in case you're wondering what to get me for Christmas. There's only one time I don't like looking at boobs. I don't like it when girls use their bra as a pocket. That bulging rectangular tumor of your cell phone, ID, lip-gloss and money all hair-tied together is very distracting. I think the reason the bra pocket bothers me so much is because I'm jealous there's no male equivalent that I can pull off: “Wait! I'll get this round of drinks, but first I have to extract it from under my sack, which is where I keep my stuff when I wear this outfit.”
I've been trying this whole online-dating thing. I've never seen such a collection of lies in one place. You know the girl's profile is bullshit when her profile picture is from here (top of face) to here (bottom of face). And then from here (left side of face) to here (right side of face). Like, how fucked up are her ears?!
I was recently at a bar with some friends and discovered a new flavor of vodka, a bacon-flavored vodka. Now, I obviously love bacon, but never before have I been enjoying my vodka cranberry and was like, “You know what this drink is missing—bacon!” What was the marketing campaign behind this bottle of vodka? What was the demographic they were trying to target? I can see the tagline now: “Bacon-flavored vodka: For the alcoholic that knows breakfast is the most important drink of the day!”