Sacramento, Reno, The Carribean, Jamaica, West Palm Beach

Sacramento A 74-0 blowout on the gridiron sounds like a game you'd leave at halftime but this one was probably the most entertaining football game I have ever been to - NFL, XFL, Arena or otherwise. The Sacramento Sirens are unbeaten in their two seasons in the IWFL. Andrist spots it in the paper that they're playing an exhibition game and we are immediately in tailgate mode. We can only drum up six of us total - 3 comics, a process server who'd delivered me a summons the night previously and his two buddies - enough to spell S-I-R-E-N-S across our chests except the opener was afraid of getting watercolor in his chest hair, leaving us one S short. Oh, those Jews and their hangups.

The fact that they didn't serve alcohol in the stands was probably the only thing that kept the thing from going out of control. Sober and in the midst of 50 or 60 low-key family types, we decided it wouldn't be fair to piss all over their Saturday afternoon. The game was so lop-sided that we over and cheered possibly against their will - for the Redding team in the 3rd quarter before going back to cruise the Sacramento sidelines for hotties.

Oh, did I mention? The Sacramento Sirens are chicks. Big, bad, angry motherfucking chicks. From the monstrous Dana "D-Train" McIntyre to little Julie "Wicked" Wicher who scored about every 30 seconds and made "22" my new favorite number.

Half the team was at our show that night, listening as Andy begged them to put their unwashed jockstraps on e-Bay and probably thought he was kidding.

The IWFL has teams all over the country and I would definitely suggest packing a flask in your coat pocket and taking in a game. And guys - I noticed a lot of these girls weren't wearing rings, if you know what I mean. If you like short hair and all.

See you at the championships in July.

 Reno

Renee showed up just in time before the Sirens could sweep me off to a bar called "Choices" to break the bad news to me. In the morning we headed to Reno, again finding some great seedy neon motels - the Golden West going high above the call of duty by having rotary dial and bandaids covering bullet holes in the ceiling. That kind of rot and nostalgia is what keeps Reno yards above Vegas for anyone who has any humor in their souls. Dying shells of people meandering across the streets under the flashing clown, 30 dollar rooms and vintage cars with original owners. A condom in a tumbleweed. Men with tattoos on their knuckles who aren't afraid of anything except the sushi, and for good reason. I could live in this town if I weren't headed in the opposite direction.

We headed south from Reno to Tahoe and then Beatty, where we drank at the Stagecoach Casino lounge to be stylings of the Enchantments. At midnight, Renee had them sing me Happy Birthday - more to end the string of Casio keyboard-driven Huey Lewis numbers than out of any real celebration. I'm 37 years old. As a comic I can't remember once said, "There ain't no pony anymore."

Royal Carribean Cruise Lines 

Rogan was the smart one when he passed on this one. Comedy Central is filming promos on a Royal Carribean Cruise and they're going to pay me to go. A sucker bet, sure but what the fuck. Plus, I can bring Mother. I have never in my life heard someone come back from a cruise and say they were really happy they went. I'm sure someone has said it but I purposely avoid those people. RC's Voyager of the Seas is a floating Mall of America, a fifteen floor cattle trough of people who need to be told how to have fun. The size of the ship is awestriking. The size of the ship-goers is appalling. The hoards of shrieking children running in spastic circles as though on fire made you want to loosen a railing on the viewing deck. Nervous buffet squatters freebasing Dramamine as preventative medicine and taking notes at the lifeboat drill.

Women and children first, my foot. This is the Darwin's boat and it's survival of the fittest. If the band has their instruments in their hands when this pig goes down, it's only to swat your shit-eater overboard.

All the fun to be had on a cruise seems pretend and it's all things you could have done right there in Knoxville, stupid. They have a pretend dance club, a pretend skating rink, a faux-Irish pub. They even have a Johnny Rockets. It's almost like not going anywhere at all. The only way you could out-stupid a cruise as a form of vacation is to find a way to actually transport your own home into the middle of the ocean, draw the blinds and play with your GameCube while you float.

Too add suck to shitty, we spent 12 hour days shooting some the most unfunny promo scripts ever written. Fortunately Nick DiPaolo was on the boat, too, and no one is funnier in a bad situation than Nick. Nick can take a bad day - add anger, racism, sexism, vulgarity, edge, bitter and spite - and turn it into the hardest you've ever laughed.

The producer from Comedy Central was Mike Klinghoffer. The name Klinghoffer sound familiar? As in Leon Klinghoffer, the old guy on the Achille Lauro in the wheelchair - the one the terrorists shot and threw off the boat?

Mike is his second cousin. Such a glaring bad omen and still I hit the casino after hours. 1900 dollars and you don't even get free drinks, you cocksuckers, suckers of cock. Never play roulette on a moving surface. I'm now sure they can time the waves with the wagers. The Titanic could have avoided that iceberg but someone loaded up on Double Zero. Rapists.

Three and Three-Quarters Hours in Jamaica - A Travelog 

Fuck this shithole, yes Mary. Fuck it but good. You barely get ten feet off the boat before these parasites try to rabbit-ear your pockets. You can take that big phoney smile and eat shit with it, "Mon". Those pricks on the cruise ship took me for 1900 in their so-called casino so you can suck my cock and still go back to your shanty-house with not a penny.

This is Ocho Rios - the driver tells me while careening down the wrong side of the road - which means Eight Rivers. Wow, isn't that interesting? Keep your eyes on the road, fuckie. Columbus brought you smallpox for a reason, now I know. Eight rivers and the one that isn't full of untreated sewage is probably running the blood of 1,000 murdered tourists out to sea.

The climate in Jamaica may have been nice but I was too busy watching our backs to notice. I look up for half a second to check for clouds and they'll pull Mother in an alley and cut out her mouth to pawn her bridgework.

The cuisine in Jamaica is shit. I didn't eat it but I saw a guy at the airport eating something out of a styrofoam carton. Some type of meat - monkey or maybe a baby arm - on a bed of fouled rice. I ain't eating that shit. He ate every tainted kernel and then tried to suck the seasoning out of the bottom of the box. They'd eat ticks off you ears in this shithole and then ask you for money.

Fuck this place. When's this fucking plane gonna get here, anyway?

West Palm Beach 

Ah, finally an Improv that doesn't make you feel like you should be wearing a name tag.

Yes, it was a good time and thanks to the Sunday crowd bearing coke and to the staff. I'm still hungover.

But in the meantime - as I sit here writing - Stern is fined almost half a million dollars and dumped permanently from Clear Channel. Is there no corporation with any balls out there? You motherfuckers. I got nothing else.

Here - read this in the meantime. And turn off the tv and the radio while you do it.