Entries from August 2006 ↓

Advances in communication technology has made people accessible 24/7, but it has also made lying to your friends the norm.

Since Pluto is offically no longer a planet, Earthlings stationed on Pluto were ordered to come back home. The majority of the colonists were elated about the government’s decision. According to a poll survey, the number one reason for wanting to return to Mother Earth was the length of day. One Plutonian day is the equivalent of seven Earth days. The colonists kept lamenting to their relatives through electomagenetic mail about the lethargic days that never seemed to end. Following at a close second in the poll was losing fingers due to freezing temperatures. Third place went to the new Sewage is Food program.

We are the only animals on the planet that celebrate it. It’s just an arbitrary point in space that we’ve invented. All we do is get drunk every time we go around the Sun.
Weeee! (one year lapses)
Yaaaay!! (365.25 days later)
Happy New Year!!!

We are eternally trapped in this boring cycle. Fuck that. I know that not everyone hates New Year’s like I do, and I can only encourage them to do one thing: Leave Earth and move to Mercury because they have a New Year’s party every 88 days.

Ain’t no party like a Mercury party because a Mercury party don’t stop.

A lot of sex happens on Mercury. They should rename the planet Herpes, the Greek god of STDs.

The only planet that should be able to celebrate New Year’s is Pluto (especially now that its been downgraded to an ice chunk. How humiliating?). The reason I say the citizens of Pluto deserve a party is because they have a New Year’s every 250 years. When it does happen they don’t even know what to do. They have to read it in their Plutonian bibles.

Ezhekial 3:17

And the Lord mixed margaritas.

Imagine the mayhem that would ensue as the ball dropped. Plutonians would come out of their houses and stick syringes of heroin in their eyes and have sex with parakeets screaming, “Happy New Year!” Now thats a DVD I would buy. It would make the backstage of Motely Crew concert look like the Lilith Fair.

They’re like guys who only like trannies. They’ve somehow convinced themselves that they are not gay but can’t be aroused unless the “woman” has a penis.

I wouldn’t be surprised if most Jews For Jesus smokers smoke American Spirit, the whitewashed all-natural “healthy” cigarette.

Snuffleupagus fans around the globe were sadden by the news of the well-known wooly pacaderm being diagnosed with testicular cancer.

Fortunately, New Zealand scientists have been able to hydoponically produce synthetic Muppet balls. His surgery is scheduled for next week.

The Tony Award winning cast of the Broadway musical Avenue Q has offered his life partner Big Bird a benefit show to pay for the procedure. Click here for tickets.

I get offended when people tell me my watch is slow. I like to think of it as chronologically challenged.~Danocrates Allenopolos

I also get offended when people use the word fucktard, not very PC. I like to say mentally fucked.~Danocrates Allenopolos

Prior to moving here in June of 2001, I worked as a pawnbroker for my family’s pawnshop in Virginia Beach and performed regularly at Thoroughgood Comedy Club. I was an aspiring comedian on my way to be a road comic middling up and down the east coast. I got engaged to a young lady who I had been dating on and off for five years. We bought a townhouse together (well technically it was in her name so “we” should be amended to “she”. A wiser person would have seen this as a telling foreshadow of what was to come). During those five years, the aforementioned young lass went back to school for her master’s degree at Old Dominion University. She had a bachelor’s degree in anthropology from U. Conn but decided it was worthless when she found out that there were no whips or Nazis involved in the actual field work. It mostly involved labeling chips of bone fragments in a musty room. During her studies, she began a metamorphosis. Slowly she gained about twenty pounds, got glasses, and braces—a reverse Cinderella story.

I wasn’t deterred by these superficial changes. I was smitten and blinded by true love. I should also reveal the fact that Virginia Beach and Norfolk has five Navy bases and has the highest rate of eligible bachelors (eligible meaning douchebag sailors) and ranked second as the fattest city (Hence the reason why Norfolk is pronounced, “No-fuck”). With that said—at the time, I wasn’t fully aware of my self-worth and thanked God for anyone to put up with my neurosis. I felt if she left my life, I would be doomed for eternity, never to be loved again (fucking pathetic).

Somewhere within the five years of our courtship, we had taken a seven month sabbatical. My friends were very disappointed in me when they heard that I had decided to get back together with her. Someone told me, “If someone gives you a spoonful of poo, why would you ask for another?” I should have listened but again I didn’t know my self worth and had a second helping. I proposed on Christmas Eve of 2000 and are wedding date was scheduled for August 2001 in Hawaii.

Everything was moving along swimmingly for an average couple living in Suburbia. A yard, a lawnmower, a cat, a fireplace, a laundry room, an office, a guest bedroom, a garage, a grill, etc…I knew I was on a path to domestication when I bought a twenty-five pound bag of winter rye grass seed and a seed hopper at Home Depot and was excited as I drove home to my wife-to-be.

As our wedding date approached, my fiancé finished her degree, landed a job, lost the twenty pounds with yoga, got contacts, had her braces removed, and started to go to a tanning salon. In one month, she had transformed into a sexual butterfly. Think Sandy from Grease or Tony Danza’s daughter in She’s Out of Control. She became the knock-out girl I originally fell in love with. Life seemed incredible.

In April of 2001, she informed me that she was going on a cruise to the Bahamas with her teenage sister for some bonding time. Having two brothers myself, I completely understood her want of one-on-one time with her sibling. Why not? The previous year they had gone to Cancun. Unfortunately, we ran up a four hundred dollar phone bill because she wanted me to be there and spoke every night. However, this particular trip I didn’t even receive an email. Something seemed amiss but I didn’t put too much thought into it because it was ship in the middle of the ocean with limited access to telecommunication.

She came back tanner and hotter than I had ever seen her. I quickly set her bags down and leaned down to kiss her passionately. However, my sexual energy was rapidly dissipated by her cold response. She returned my advance with a contrived, emotionless embrace equivalent to a great-aunt who you are meeting for the first time. The psycho jealous part of me immediately started to chant in my head, “She fucked someone!” I shook that off as immature thoughts and gazed in her eyes. She quickly looked away and walked into the living room and sat on the couch. Not good. She was avoiding eye contact. I asked, “Do you want me to fix some eggs?” trying to sound casual. She stared out the window and stroked our cat Buddha. I nervously observed her with my peripheral vision and stared at the frying pan. As I flipped the eggs over with a spatula, my mind was flooded with images of her in a cabin in various positions, sweating, panting, crying out in ecstasy…the eggs…focus on the eggs…make the bad thoughts go away.

An internal dialogue began:

As I carefully placed the eggs on a plate and buttered the toast, she turned to me and said quietly, “Dan, I have something to tell you.”

I left the plate of food on the counter top and walked out to the living room and sat next to her. She looked at me. Here eyes were vibrating and slightly teary. She looked me in the eyes and said, “I kissed someone on the cruise.”

“WHAT!? How could you?” I cried out and stood up and placed both my hands on the mantelpiece and stared at with wall in front of me. She started to cry and I felt this white cloud of rage ebb through my body. I closed my eyes and let it fade out. I finally turned around and rubbed out the rest of my anger from my eyes and face with the palms of my hand. I massaged my forehead with an up-and-down motion. My hands still smelled of bacon and butter from the meal I just made her. It made me feel nauseous. I started to relax and started to rotate my fingertips on my temples to bring me to a sedated state. I opened my eyes and looked at her. I wanted to be an adult. I want to have a mature response. So I firmly planted my left hand on the mantelpiece and calmly said, “Obviously, this is a cry for help. Something is wrong with our relationship. I want to fix it. I still want to marry you. I still love you. I forgive you.”

And how did my precious love-of-my-life respond you ask?

It reverberates in my head to this day. In fact, every time I need to illicit rage, sadness or combination of both all I need to do is raise my left arm and look down to the right. My body responds to this like Pavlov’s dog does a bell.

Here is what she said verbatim:

“You forgive me? (confused smirk) I don’t want your forgiveness. If I had a chance to do it again, I would.”

As traumatic as this tale may seem to be, I thank her for what she did that day. If she hadn’t done that, I would probably be in a sexless marriage, own a pawnshop and perform comedy sporadically throughout the South.

To raise awareness for their annual Race For the Kids on September 16th

(http://raceforthekids.org)

Mon | Aug 14th | 7:30PM
$12 with a two drink minimum
Gotham Comedy Club
(Rated one of the top ten comedy clubs in the nation)

W. 23rd St btw 7th and 8th Ave, 367-9000
Please call for reservations and mention “Big Brother”

Should be a fun show with a great all-star line-up who moonlight as mentors:

Bull Burr
http://billburr.com
(HBO One Night Stand, Comedy Central Presents, Letterman)

Tom Shillue
http://tomshillue.com
(Comedy Central’s Presents)

Wali Collins
http://walicollins.com
(Letterman, Leno)

Michael Somerville
http://www.mikesomerville.com/
(Comedy Central’s Premium Blend, Montreal Comedy Festival)

Veronica Mosey
http://veronicamosey.com/
(Comedy Central’s Live at Gotham, HBO Aspen Comedy Festival)

Jon Fisch
http://jonfisch.com
(NBC Last Comic Standing IV, Premium Blend)

Dan Allen
http://taoofdan.com
(Premium Blend, Us Weekly Fashion Police)

There will also be a silent auction at the door. Various items (Video iPod, $100 Yankees tickets, etc…)

See you there.

When I first moved to Queens, I thought OTB was a crappy bank. I never understood why anyone would want to bank there. It was always filled with cheap cologne-wearing guys in polyester suits who would rip their bank statments apart once they left the “bank” to smoke a Doral Light 100.

Since my mother was a single parent of three, the majority of my childhood was spent locked in various apartments in San Antonio with my two little brothers (see photo to left) sans parental supervision. We were the classic example of latchkey kids.

In order to bring some order to our lives, my mother created a task list that she posted to the refrigerator every morning. It had three columns with each of our names on it: Dan, Chris, and Nate. Chris and I would be given more difficult chores such as vacuuming, cleaning the bathroom, or the dishes. Golden Boy Nate was the youngest and deemed a “gift from God” was always assigned light duty (i.e, dusting, organizing his MicroMachines or ThunderCats, etc…).

Being the oldest at thirteen, my mission was the same everyday: Round up the troops at the bus stop, escort them home, get everyone inside, lock all the doors, eat a snack, and complete the assigned duties by the time Mom got home.

Quite often our confinement became our personal purgatory similar to Jean-Paul Sartré’s No Exit. We became each other’s demon and tormented each other. Chris and I would haggle over responsibilities. We’d spend hours negotiating a deal of who would do what. Nate never had a problem with his “chores”. It always enraged us of his special treatment. Chris pulled rank on Nate and told him he was going to dust and that Nate had to vacuum. This did not sit well with Nate and he refused to take out the trash and started to dust. Chris started to chase Nate around the house. I intervened by chasing Chris. Mayhem ensued and the apartment became a pay-per-view cage match. Time sped up and six o’clock crept up on us. The instant we heard the key in the door our hearts stopped. A mutual alliance was formed and a silent treaty was made with frightened eye contact.

We felt like Ann Frank’s family as the Gestapo had discovered their hideout and the sound of their boots could be heard on the wooden steps leading up to the attic. As we were untangling our bodies from various choke holds, Nate somehow fell onto a lamp. It fell back against the wall and shattered the moment Mom opened the door.

“Hello, boys…Mommy is…” her chirpy salutation faded into questioning rage, “What the hell happen here?!”

The place looked as if a Category 3 hurricane had swept through it. The broken lamp became the center of attention.

“Who broke the lamp?” she barked out.

Chris immediately answered, “Nate…(glancing at Nate with a sneer) and I think he did it just for spite!”

“Is this true Nathan?” she asked with disappointment to her favorite son.

“What!? Spite? Spite who? I don’t even know Spite?” he tearfully cried in confusion.

I muttered under my breath, “Spite Lee.”