Stand Up Comedy
Dec 14, 2010 18:51:43 GMT -5
Post by ∂αмєη on Dec 14, 2010 18:51:43 GMT -5
Good to have a little back story on anything really. So...
I. Back Story
In Drama class, turns out we wouldn't be working on Romeo and Juliet anymore. So any work on that was scrapped :D...anyways, we moved onto the next unit, which is Stand Up Comedy. Definately the funnest unit, seeing as I kicked azz at it in Gr. 11.
So, we began and I did a routine on Relationships, doing pretty damn good. She called 4 of use back up, myself, my friend Zack, Jake and Troy. Then she told us that the top four would be offered a slot at the local comedy hall. It took a few seconds for us to realize that there were 4 of us up there and that we would be going.
After a lot of high pitched screaming, we got the details. This Friday, we'd preform :D So, we needed to write up a comedy act. And, well, I don't want to go on there and absoloutley fail. So, I was wondering if you guys and gals could give some feedback.
II. Warnings
Warning that there might be some swear words, and depending on where my muse goes, and the type of crowd that might be there, it could be a little bit dirty :P So, I warned you, shouldn't be over PG-13.
III. The Routine
This will probably be really rough, but it's my first copy, just to toss out all my ideas.
Alright everybody, Hello. My name is Damen Storm, Damen with an 'e'. I go to ________ Highschool, attending the 12th Grade. I am 16 though, skipped a few grades. Well uhh, knock knock? [wait] Owls [wait] Yup. They certainly do. [/monotone]
Ah, I'm just joking with you. I'm not actually that boring. My name isn't George Bush. Ladies and gentleman, my name actually is Damen Storm. Growing up, I actually hated the name. You know, I had those bullies that would bother me about it. Mine was big, tough, hairy for a child at that age. Really scary with a deep voice. I still shiver when I remember Rachel. Ugh. Anyways, yeah, I got bullied for my name. It was always 'Oh em gee. Your name is Storm. What, are you going to zap me with lightning?'. Yes, my goal in life is to zap you with lightning. Definately. I'm going to rain all over you and then zap you. Yeah, for sure.
Now, I love it. It's like I'm one of those James Bond characters. Storm. Damen Storm. I work with the national secret intelligence of London, England. The Central Intelligence Agency have me on speed dial. Now get in my bed and let me show you some of my spy moves. Anyways, it is a decent name now. It was one of the sole reasons I actually got one of my past girlfriends.
Yeah, pretty damn cold huh? 'Hi Damen Storm. Let's go out.' Oh, I thought she was head over heels for me at that point. Yeah, I forgot to establish that she was a woman. Everything she would say would only hurt me in the end. Now, I don't mean that as an insult, but rather a compliment. It would be just a simple sentence, maybe something that seemed so friendly at the time. 'Oh, they wouldn't care if you did that Damen. They wouldn't care.' Oh okay. Thanks babe. They wouldn't care if I talked about the bitch that was locked in my trunk last night. I mean uhh...they wouldn't care. Yeah, that's where I was. They wouldn't care that I did this certain thing. Well, then the fucking bomb exploded. Why wouldn't they care? Oh my god! Is it because nobody likes me?! Does she like me?! Now what? She doesn't like me! Oh my god! I sounded like a freaking Paris Hilton on steroids.
Yeah, turns out it was only for my name. She wanted the last name. Becca Storm, Rebecca Storm. Bitch. But you know, some relationships don't always end the right way. One of the girls I really cared about was not the object of my love anymore. So I broke things off. It wasn't that I was now single and people were starting to make moves on me that was bad. No. That was actually pretty damn nice. It was the fact that I felt bad. Now she's sad. Now she's mad. Great, those tears in 4th period Advance Placement Science were definately because of me. Now she's sad again. Now her friends are sad. Now her friends hate me because I made her sad. Now I'm sad. Ahh! FUCK MY LIFE!
Ahh. Women. You hate to love them, love to hate them, can't live with them and can't live without them. They are like sleeping. Sometimes they may piss you off and waste your time, and other times you want to do it like it was the only thing you could do to live. I live with four women most of my life. My mother, an amazing woman. Really, I'm not doing that brown-nose and try and get forgiven for saying a 'naughty word'. Then there's my sister. She's 12. God damn, what have I done to receive such a satanic child. Her favourite activity? Asking me to pick her up at places, waiting until I get half way to her, and then fucking tells me she has another ride. Is that fun for you? Just wait until you actually need me. It's like the boy who cried wolf. It's the girl who called chauffeur.
Then there's my current girlfriend. Let me tell you, guys, this is the type of girl you need. Beautiful, smart, funny. And she knows when to shut the hell up! Most just ramble on and on and on about Days of our Lives or Young and the Restless, without actually asking if you care. Reality check, I don't care if Sammi's child is stolen by EJ. Didn't that just happen last week? But honestly, my girlfriend is the best. She fits in nicely with my family too.
Finally, there's the final girl in my house. My brother. I'm just kidding. He's probably out here somewhere. Yeah, I joke around with him. You see, it's kind of one of those sob stories with him. His father was a jerk. So, he came to live with me. It's actually pretty awesome. My best friend gets to live with me. The only thing better than that would be a huge back of jerky, a few beers and no women nagging me to clean the house. I'm watching the gaaaame! I'm a maaaaan! Give me some tiiiiimmmeeeeee!
My father isn't a jerk though. He is a soldier. See, when you tell people what your parents do for a living, they are usually all happy and stuff. You know. 'My daddy is a firefighter.' Yay! 'My mommy is a lawyer.' Aw cool! Here I am, walking up to the front of the class. 'My mother is a nurse.' Cool! 'My dad is a Canadian Soldier fighting for our freedom and rights.' Oh. I'm sorry for your loss. It's always sad though. Like, my dad is out there, still alive, and you are all like 'Oh damn. So sorry. Shit. Uh, sorry about that.' I've made it my job to do that now though. It actually pisses people off. 'My dad is an explorer.' Aww sorry for your loss. Confuses the hell out of them too.
Alright, so, let's be honest, your first impressions of me are probably done. First, I've talked a lot about girls. Either I'm a player, or I secretly have received a type of surgery to remove any trace of woman from me. Neither actually, but think what you think. Next, I am wearing a scarf. Now, stereotypically, I am either gay or a ninja. Well. I'm a ninja. You may bow down, you are not worthy.
I actually do hate stereotypes to be honest. I can't do one thing at school without bringing up some accusation against religion, sexuality or morals. I go to write with my left hand, the quiet kid in the back jumps up and starts chanting to exorcise me. Holy shit kid, calm down, get back in your seat or get home schooled. Not my fault I'm ambidextrous. No need for your rituals and blood sacrifices. Shit doesn't need to hit the fan.
Alright. Let's see. Relationships, women, quiet kids, stereotypes. Oh, and the ninja joke. Okay, what else is usually insulted in a comedy act. Families? Did I hear families? Sir/M'am, did you say family? Shh, just say you did. Okay families! Well, mine isn't like a normal family. My family is so god damn competitive that they put the Olympics to fucking bed! Tuck them in, kiss them goodnight, out like a light. I'm serious though. We recently bought a new Wii to replace our broken one. Bad fucking idea. Should've just stuck with the broken one. Anyways, I never thought my mom would be competitive. She picks up the remote, confused as to what to do at first. I love how technologically dumb some parents are. 'What's this Damen?' Well Mom, that's a computer.
I think she lied though. I think my mother lied. My lovely mother took my mind and treated it like a little lie accepter. We finally got her learning how to use it, ready to play that Wii Bowling game. I was all like, okay, I've got this. Let's go Damen. You're ready for this. You were born to kick your mother's ass at Wii Bowling. Born for this. Okay, here we go. Perfect. Line it up, pull back, release. Ah yes, strike. Quietly celebrate. No need to share the fact that you are wetting yourself right now.
But it wasn't what I expected. Oh hell no. She pulls back, launching the ball to get a strike too. Really? You are suddenly the Tiger Woods of bowling? What next, are you going to sleep with a lot of ugly men prostitutes, later lying about any interactions? Great, guess who is getting their ass kicked? I did get it kicked too. So, I brought it to my home game. Mario Kart. Oh, nothing has gone down until we hit Rainbow Fucking Road. I'm always Yoshi too. He's just so green and cute. He's like the Incredible Hulk after a tea party.
My mother always takes Bowser. She's always like, 'Oh children, you don't know Maria Kart until I run you over with Bosner.' Maria Kart? Bosner? Technologically a fail I tell you. Sister Storm always goes with Luigi. She thinks that he always gets the short end of the stick. Mr. It's-a-me Mario prances in, getting the chicks, squishing them Goomba's. He is the BAMF of all games. Pacman ain't got nothing on him. Seriously sister. Do you really have to be curtious for a fucking game?! Then there's my brother. He always takes different people. Tells me that he likes experimenting with many different things. I don't know if I should be so damn proud at his obvious reference to women, or if I should be questioning if that was actually an easy way to come out of the closet.
What scares me the most though is my father's pick, when he actually has the time to play with us. Let me first establish that he is one of those people who is actually pretty damn scary. Huge, deep voice, actually scary. Still, time and time again, he picks Princess Peach. King I'm Going to Kick Your Ass chooses Princess Peach. You can't question him either, unless you want to have your head knocked in. He's got like an Inspector Gadget hand, one that turns into a baseball bat. Beep Beep Vrooooooooooo. Whack. 'Don't question Peach.' God damn Peach.
Thanks for listening everybody to my endless ranting. My name is Damen and I want to strike you with lightning bolts. Goodnight!
I. Back Story
In Drama class, turns out we wouldn't be working on Romeo and Juliet anymore. So any work on that was scrapped :D...anyways, we moved onto the next unit, which is Stand Up Comedy. Definately the funnest unit, seeing as I kicked azz at it in Gr. 11.
So, we began and I did a routine on Relationships, doing pretty damn good. She called 4 of use back up, myself, my friend Zack, Jake and Troy. Then she told us that the top four would be offered a slot at the local comedy hall. It took a few seconds for us to realize that there were 4 of us up there and that we would be going.
After a lot of high pitched screaming, we got the details. This Friday, we'd preform :D So, we needed to write up a comedy act. And, well, I don't want to go on there and absoloutley fail. So, I was wondering if you guys and gals could give some feedback.
II. Warnings
Warning that there might be some swear words, and depending on where my muse goes, and the type of crowd that might be there, it could be a little bit dirty :P So, I warned you, shouldn't be over PG-13.
III. The Routine
This will probably be really rough, but it's my first copy, just to toss out all my ideas.
Alright everybody, Hello. My name is Damen Storm, Damen with an 'e'. I go to ________ Highschool, attending the 12th Grade. I am 16 though, skipped a few grades. Well uhh, knock knock? [wait] Owls [wait] Yup. They certainly do. [/monotone]
Ah, I'm just joking with you. I'm not actually that boring. My name isn't George Bush. Ladies and gentleman, my name actually is Damen Storm. Growing up, I actually hated the name. You know, I had those bullies that would bother me about it. Mine was big, tough, hairy for a child at that age. Really scary with a deep voice. I still shiver when I remember Rachel. Ugh. Anyways, yeah, I got bullied for my name. It was always 'Oh em gee. Your name is Storm. What, are you going to zap me with lightning?'. Yes, my goal in life is to zap you with lightning. Definately. I'm going to rain all over you and then zap you. Yeah, for sure.
Now, I love it. It's like I'm one of those James Bond characters. Storm. Damen Storm. I work with the national secret intelligence of London, England. The Central Intelligence Agency have me on speed dial. Now get in my bed and let me show you some of my spy moves. Anyways, it is a decent name now. It was one of the sole reasons I actually got one of my past girlfriends.
Yeah, pretty damn cold huh? 'Hi Damen Storm. Let's go out.' Oh, I thought she was head over heels for me at that point. Yeah, I forgot to establish that she was a woman. Everything she would say would only hurt me in the end. Now, I don't mean that as an insult, but rather a compliment. It would be just a simple sentence, maybe something that seemed so friendly at the time. 'Oh, they wouldn't care if you did that Damen. They wouldn't care.' Oh okay. Thanks babe. They wouldn't care if I talked about the bitch that was locked in my trunk last night. I mean uhh...they wouldn't care. Yeah, that's where I was. They wouldn't care that I did this certain thing. Well, then the fucking bomb exploded. Why wouldn't they care? Oh my god! Is it because nobody likes me?! Does she like me?! Now what? She doesn't like me! Oh my god! I sounded like a freaking Paris Hilton on steroids.
Yeah, turns out it was only for my name. She wanted the last name. Becca Storm, Rebecca Storm. Bitch. But you know, some relationships don't always end the right way. One of the girls I really cared about was not the object of my love anymore. So I broke things off. It wasn't that I was now single and people were starting to make moves on me that was bad. No. That was actually pretty damn nice. It was the fact that I felt bad. Now she's sad. Now she's mad. Great, those tears in 4th period Advance Placement Science were definately because of me. Now she's sad again. Now her friends are sad. Now her friends hate me because I made her sad. Now I'm sad. Ahh! FUCK MY LIFE!
Ahh. Women. You hate to love them, love to hate them, can't live with them and can't live without them. They are like sleeping. Sometimes they may piss you off and waste your time, and other times you want to do it like it was the only thing you could do to live. I live with four women most of my life. My mother, an amazing woman. Really, I'm not doing that brown-nose and try and get forgiven for saying a 'naughty word'. Then there's my sister. She's 12. God damn, what have I done to receive such a satanic child. Her favourite activity? Asking me to pick her up at places, waiting until I get half way to her, and then fucking tells me she has another ride. Is that fun for you? Just wait until you actually need me. It's like the boy who cried wolf. It's the girl who called chauffeur.
Then there's my current girlfriend. Let me tell you, guys, this is the type of girl you need. Beautiful, smart, funny. And she knows when to shut the hell up! Most just ramble on and on and on about Days of our Lives or Young and the Restless, without actually asking if you care. Reality check, I don't care if Sammi's child is stolen by EJ. Didn't that just happen last week? But honestly, my girlfriend is the best. She fits in nicely with my family too.
Finally, there's the final girl in my house. My brother. I'm just kidding. He's probably out here somewhere. Yeah, I joke around with him. You see, it's kind of one of those sob stories with him. His father was a jerk. So, he came to live with me. It's actually pretty awesome. My best friend gets to live with me. The only thing better than that would be a huge back of jerky, a few beers and no women nagging me to clean the house. I'm watching the gaaaame! I'm a maaaaan! Give me some tiiiiimmmeeeeee!
My father isn't a jerk though. He is a soldier. See, when you tell people what your parents do for a living, they are usually all happy and stuff. You know. 'My daddy is a firefighter.' Yay! 'My mommy is a lawyer.' Aw cool! Here I am, walking up to the front of the class. 'My mother is a nurse.' Cool! 'My dad is a Canadian Soldier fighting for our freedom and rights.' Oh. I'm sorry for your loss. It's always sad though. Like, my dad is out there, still alive, and you are all like 'Oh damn. So sorry. Shit. Uh, sorry about that.' I've made it my job to do that now though. It actually pisses people off. 'My dad is an explorer.' Aww sorry for your loss. Confuses the hell out of them too.
Alright, so, let's be honest, your first impressions of me are probably done. First, I've talked a lot about girls. Either I'm a player, or I secretly have received a type of surgery to remove any trace of woman from me. Neither actually, but think what you think. Next, I am wearing a scarf. Now, stereotypically, I am either gay or a ninja. Well. I'm a ninja. You may bow down, you are not worthy.
I actually do hate stereotypes to be honest. I can't do one thing at school without bringing up some accusation against religion, sexuality or morals. I go to write with my left hand, the quiet kid in the back jumps up and starts chanting to exorcise me. Holy shit kid, calm down, get back in your seat or get home schooled. Not my fault I'm ambidextrous. No need for your rituals and blood sacrifices. Shit doesn't need to hit the fan.
Alright. Let's see. Relationships, women, quiet kids, stereotypes. Oh, and the ninja joke. Okay, what else is usually insulted in a comedy act. Families? Did I hear families? Sir/M'am, did you say family? Shh, just say you did. Okay families! Well, mine isn't like a normal family. My family is so god damn competitive that they put the Olympics to fucking bed! Tuck them in, kiss them goodnight, out like a light. I'm serious though. We recently bought a new Wii to replace our broken one. Bad fucking idea. Should've just stuck with the broken one. Anyways, I never thought my mom would be competitive. She picks up the remote, confused as to what to do at first. I love how technologically dumb some parents are. 'What's this Damen?' Well Mom, that's a computer.
I think she lied though. I think my mother lied. My lovely mother took my mind and treated it like a little lie accepter. We finally got her learning how to use it, ready to play that Wii Bowling game. I was all like, okay, I've got this. Let's go Damen. You're ready for this. You were born to kick your mother's ass at Wii Bowling. Born for this. Okay, here we go. Perfect. Line it up, pull back, release. Ah yes, strike. Quietly celebrate. No need to share the fact that you are wetting yourself right now.
But it wasn't what I expected. Oh hell no. She pulls back, launching the ball to get a strike too. Really? You are suddenly the Tiger Woods of bowling? What next, are you going to sleep with a lot of ugly men prostitutes, later lying about any interactions? Great, guess who is getting their ass kicked? I did get it kicked too. So, I brought it to my home game. Mario Kart. Oh, nothing has gone down until we hit Rainbow Fucking Road. I'm always Yoshi too. He's just so green and cute. He's like the Incredible Hulk after a tea party.
My mother always takes Bowser. She's always like, 'Oh children, you don't know Maria Kart until I run you over with Bosner.' Maria Kart? Bosner? Technologically a fail I tell you. Sister Storm always goes with Luigi. She thinks that he always gets the short end of the stick. Mr. It's-a-me Mario prances in, getting the chicks, squishing them Goomba's. He is the BAMF of all games. Pacman ain't got nothing on him. Seriously sister. Do you really have to be curtious for a fucking game?! Then there's my brother. He always takes different people. Tells me that he likes experimenting with many different things. I don't know if I should be so damn proud at his obvious reference to women, or if I should be questioning if that was actually an easy way to come out of the closet.
What scares me the most though is my father's pick, when he actually has the time to play with us. Let me first establish that he is one of those people who is actually pretty damn scary. Huge, deep voice, actually scary. Still, time and time again, he picks Princess Peach. King I'm Going to Kick Your Ass chooses Princess Peach. You can't question him either, unless you want to have your head knocked in. He's got like an Inspector Gadget hand, one that turns into a baseball bat. Beep Beep Vrooooooooooo. Whack. 'Don't question Peach.' God damn Peach.
Thanks for listening everybody to my endless ranting. My name is Damen and I want to strike you with lightning bolts. Goodnight!
