Black/Sho Tour Day Three & Four: Boston/New Haven


(Sho) Boston. Home of the Boston Red Sticks. Oops. I mean Red Stacks. Oops. I mean Rod Stocks. Wait, what? Oh. I got it. Rod Stewart. Boston, Massachusetts hometown of the great baseball team Rod Stewart. Mac and I (I call Mike “Mac”. He hates it but I don’t care because I think it’s really HI-LAR-IOUS!!!!!!) So anyway, Mac and I drove into Bean Town and set up shop at a Starbucks where we typed away at our computers and didn’t speak to each other. It was another beautiful day and the fall leaves were in full bloom, like a blooming onion.

(Black) Boston is my town. I grew up there, of course, and have fond memories of sculling on the Charles. It’s worth mentioning that I did not grow up in Boston, and have never been sculling. Moreover I am afraid of water. Boston was founded in 1958 by Mormons looking to escape persecution, and it still retains it’s old world charm. For example, I noticed that several of the shops used this spelling: “shoppe.” Very cute. Michael and I spent the day at Starbucks tip-tapping on our computers and looking at pedestrians. Michael ate nineteen mixed berry scones.

(Sho) And Black ate his boogers. It’s true. I saw him sneak some into his craw.

It was a really packed show. Michael Ian Black’s name was high up on the marquee and my name was…n’t.
So, that was cool. But it’s okay because I love my friend Michael and was really excited to see his name up in bright lights.

Many colleges were represented including: Northeastern, Harvard, BU, BC, and of course Brandeis. I predicted that the BC and Brandeis kids would have a religious war after the show.

There was a heckler in the crowd. I do a bit about getting candy at the movies and he screamed out that I should order “balls.” I assumed he meant “Whoppers.” After a heated exchange we agreed that I’d put my balls in his mouth but in a nice way. Michael dealt with him too. He’ll tell you all about it.

(Black) The heckler was obnoxious with Showalter, but at least coherent. By the time I got on stage, he was just shouting syllables that sometimes were words and sometimes not. For example, during my set he started yelling noises. When I asked him what he was yelling, he said something, which I eventually understood to be: “You suck otherwise!” Normally, this would hurt my feelings because I’m sensitive, but then I became confused. Otherwise what? Other than this show? In which case it’s okay because he likes the show but hates every thing else I do. Or did he mean that I just suck? But if he meant that, why the “otherwise?” We talked about it a little, but he wasn’t making sense. Finally, I told him to “shut up,” which was my witty way of saying “shut up.” Amazingly, he did shut up, but I found out later it wasn’t because I scared him but because security threw him out.

Otherwise (that word) it was a good show. Great crowd. Lots of attentive and attractive people. Afterwards we signed a bunch of DVDs and said hello and then I went back to the hotel and watched “The World Series of Poker” for eight hours. I wish there was a way to beat off to “The World Series of Poker,” but there isn’t. I’ve tried, and it doesn’t work.


(Sho) We had some time so we drove to Black’s house and spent the day at his beautiful country house on 174 Newbie Street, in Skilling, Connecticutt. He’ll be pissed I gave out his address but fuck him. He stole my iPod and claims it’s his when it so obviously isn’t.

New Haven is where Yale is. As such, there’s many smart people shuffling around in sweaters and scarves with backpacks full of books and cups of coffee. Michael and I threw drive-by water balloons at them from our rental car and had a grand time.

The show went off without a hitch: unless you consider my computer going dead in the middle of my set and me stopping for five minutes while a tech guy crawled on stage and tried to fix it a hitch. (He fixed it.)

Afterwards we signed lots of DVDs, including two sets of heaving breasts, and took a bunch of pictures.

We went our separate ways. I to Brooklyn and Michael to Connecticut. Next day, we will meet in NYC and drive to Baltimore.

(Black) Our New Haven venue was weird. It’s called Toad’s Place, and it’s run by very nice people, but there were some annoying and strange things about it. First of all, the floors were sticky. Not regular sticky like you expect when you go to a place where people spend a lot of time throwing up, but extra sticky. To the point where I was wondering if they mopped the floors with tree sap. I thought maybe they were trying to figure out a way to freeze us all in amber so that millions of years from now scientists could discover us. Even the stage was sticky like that. Why was the stage so sticky? Every time I took a step it sounded like I was unfastening something made from Velcro. It was terrible. The other annoying thing about that place is that there is giant fence in the middle of the room. I am not being metaphorical when I say this; for all ages shows, rather than give people bracelets or whatever, they erect an enormous fence in the middle of the room so that the drinkers and non-drinkers are separated by a giant metal barrier. This is in no way at all a fire hazard. Giant metal fences are not necessarily conducive to great comedy. They are conducive to segregating large segments of people from each other, and on that front they succeeded. I was hoping that we could play “Border Crossing,” but nobody was up for it. As far as my performance goes, I did not do a very good job. Sniffing all that model airplane glue before the show probably did not help matters.

It was great, however, to spend the day with my kids. They kept calling me “Larry.” I don’t know why. I asked my wife if somebody named Larry had been coming around the house. She said she had no idea what I was talking about.


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