When I was a kid, I went with my friend Chris to his grandparents house. His Grandpa was showing us pictures of him in WWII. Chris asked his Grandpa if he ever killed someone while he was there. He said, “I hope not. I was the cook”!
I am not a good cook. Oh, I can throw a few things on the BBQ and do OK with that. I can scramble some eggs and steam some vegetables, as long as they are in the sealed bag that you just need to nuke in the microwave. I nail that!
I can make some decent pancakes and whip up some nice bacon on the George Foreman grill and I can order a pizza on the phone with the best of them. Oh, and I do make some pretty good biscuits from scratch and a killer peanut butter and jelly sandwich. But that’s it. So, I could survive if I was a bachelor.
Who am I kidding? I hated to go to the store when I was single. I did my grocery shopping at fast food joints. I bought lots of hot dogs at gas stations and convenience stores, too. When I was on the road as a comedian, I would get gas at truck stops and grab something really bad for me on the way out.
It’s what you do as a comic. Or a truck driver too, of course. If I was gone too long, the horrible food, lack of sleep because the room accommodations given to comics are usually pretty bad I would come back looking and feeling horrible. Combine those elements with the drinks people bought me after the shows, and its a wonder I’m still alive.
There was one place where I used to perform where they would put the comedians in the condemned rooms of the aging hotel. I know! The lights in the hallways were burned out, there were rats and the bedsheets were duct taped together. I wish I was kidding.