Quirkee.com

When I was starting out on the road as a comic, an experienced comedy guy told me that there are two kinds of people that can handle being on the road without going insane; the kind of person that can find something to do no matter where they are and the type of person that is perfectly happy doing nothing at all.

I tend to fall into the latter category and because of this I frequently enjoy laying on my ass in the hotel room watching television until it's time for the show.

Because of this, I watch a lot of daytime T.V.

I have become convinced that nothing in this world can make you feel more like a loser than the commercials that air during daytime T.V. They seem to have a demographic and a target audience of people that have given up on all of it.

One of the challenges for a comedian traveling on the road is food. You're in a strange town with even stranger people, but you still have to maintain the daily dietary sustenance that allows your brain to produce the words that will take down a heckler and get the crowd on your side (even after you've knocked back 4 or 5 shots with the club owner before the show).

I'm not proud of the things I've eaten while touring. I've become quite the aficionado of gas station sandwiches. I've contributed to the increase on the digits in the billions served sign on many McDonald's. I've eaten pizza that another comic had thrown in the trash (it was still in the box and the trash can was otherwise empty was my justification... also, I was drunk).

One time I actually ate something called, "chum." I put it on a cracker but it wasn't very good.

Normally, we, the voices of Quirkee.com tend to focus on columns about ourselves and what we think of the world around us. We're usually not known for hard-hitting, tabloid-style journalism.

But all that is about to change.

I happen to have a buddy that works at the L.A. County Jail hospital ward and I was allowed to do an interview on his cell phone with Paris Hilton herself. Here is the transcript of our conversation...

Today is my 36th birthday. When I was a kid I thought that 36 was very old. My parents were 36. Congressmen were 36. Hell, when I was born Wilford Brimley was 36.

June 7, 1971 was a tumultuous time for our country. The United States was involved in a war overseas that was wildly unpopular at home. The president at the time was arrogant, paranoid and believed that he had the right to act without the approval of the Congress or the American people. Good thing my generation came along and changed all that. You're welcome.

I just did a week in Oklahoma City and boy, is my career tired.

I don't have anything against the city, per se.

There is a big rivalry between Oklahoma and Texas, where I live with regard to college sports. But there is a marked difference between the cities in how they feel about the rivalry.

I've been happily married for five years. I'm very lucky to have nabbed a truly wonderful gal. Do people still call them gals? Whatever.

One of the central issues in our relationship since we've married has been the method by which I proposed. It wasn't very good. It was actually pretty sucky.

You know those videotaped proposals you sometimes see on TV? The really spectacular ones where the guy parachutes into a baseball stadium with "Marry me, Karen" written on the parachute? Yeah, it wasn't one of those. But whenever one of those proposals appears on our television, the wife looks over at me and sighs mournfully.

My column is about life as a standup comedian. But the column is called Guy Walks Into a Bar. My craft and my affection for alcohol are inexorably entwined. Honestly that would also probably be true were I a surgeon, a garbage man, or a call girl.

Bearing that in mind, I'd like to devote this week's column to the six different liquors and the way I feel about them.

METRO AND PROVINCE

Thursday, May 03, 2007 Montreal Observer-Gazette-Herald Section B

American Visitor Looks Like an Ass

With a Parka and a Good Amount of Ignorance, a Foolish Texan Feels Really Uncomfortable.

By Pierre DuBoeuf

Comedian Matt Sadler arrived in our fair city last week, wearing 2 t-shirts, a sweater and a parka, looking like a complete moron considering it was 60 degrees outside and locals were wearing shorts and tank tops.

* Due to my strong personal convictions, I wish to stress that this article in no way endorses a belief in the occult.

I get paid to drink beer and talk about my dick to drunk people. I guess we all have our crosses to bear. You probably have your own problems.

Last week I performed 5 nights at a casino in Reno. It was Easter weekend, which normally doesn't mean a whole lot to me, but on this of all weekends, there were some eerie parallels to a guy like me who could heal the sick, believed in peace and frequently spoke to an adoring public. He also had a really good body (Have you had communion lately? That thing is delicious!).