I'd Prefer to Sit Down, but...

              I recently completed one of my bucket list items (performing stand-up at an open mic night) at DRNK coffee house in the Bixby Knolls neighborhood of Long Beach.  There were about 20 of my friends to support me, about 20-25 Neil Young fans there to play guitar after I finished my set and three or four college students who were just trying to study for finals.  Two of my friends recorded it but they are both having issues with getting the video to me so I thought I would share with you my routine.

 

                My name is Dustin and I’m sure you can tell from my accent I am not from here.   I grew up in East Texas and Mississippi.  For future reference, this is what a redneck looks like.  Now if anyone asks if you’ve ever seen a redneck you can say yes and he was wearing orange pants but not as part of a chain gang.

                I’m from the boonies.  And I want to make sure you understand what I’m talking about.  We lived outside of a town with one red light.  My family is so country; if we had a crest it would have a tractor and some cornbread on it.  As you can imagine I never really fit in.  For instance, one year I got a .22 rifle with a scope for Christmas.  You can understand the confusion as what I asked for was an argyle sweater.

                I feel we’ve bonded so I can share with you that I’m gay, in case you had not already guessed.  My father always told me I wasn’t macho enough.  It’s ironic the only people who use that word are my Dad and the Village People.  Luckily I was really overweight as my father equates girth with strength.  I don’t know why.  When I was fat I used to be too tired to so much of anything except eat.  Now that I’ve lost so much weight, my father thinks I’m too skinny, like too skinny to go to the grocery store alone.  He’s thinks I’m going to get beat up while shopping.  I don’t know where he thinks I buy groceries but there are neighborhoods I specifically avoid in Long Beach.

                I’ve devised a few rules about living in Long Beach.  If you are on a Fruit Street (Cherry, Orange, Lime) and you can’t actually see the ocean, you need to get off that street.  They will kill you in the face in the daytime.  I live in Belmont Shore (a couple of blocks from the beach) and I consider anything north of 4^th street to be Compton.  Yes, Bixby Knolls is Compton.  We are currently in Compton.  I’m going to need an escort to my car later.

                You can plainly see I am not skinny, however, I’m also not fat.  I’m in a weird in between body zone known to gay men as “might as well be a woman”.    I wish I could tell you under this sexy sweater vest is a ripped body but truthfully what is holding my torso into the shape of a torso is Spanx and hope and a series of ropes, pulleys and trick mirrors. 

                I’ve been in Southern California for almost two years and what I can tell you is there are so many feelings here.  I don’t know if it’s the tofu or the open-toed shoes or what but everyone feels too much here, which causes me to feel things too, like annoyance, anger and condescension, especially to the guys who love to wear jeans, hoodies and flip flops. 

                First of all, it is physiologically impossible for your upper body to be cold and your feet to be hot.  Secondly, no one wants to see your big nasty feet.  At least women have the decency to have their toes done.  Men, it’s just gross.  If your toenails look like a photograph of the Earth’s crust from a science book, nobody wants to see that mess.  And another thing, specifically for the hipsters in the audience.  If you can fit all your stuff in a pair of skinny jeans, you don’t have a lot of stuff.  I’m just saying.  Women notice that sort of thing.

                And the gay guys are just as ridiculous.  I have tried online dating and people are…I don’t know.  There was one guy who was nice and we went on two dates.  The first date was great and we made the second date.  Now I tell them upfront, I am not having sex on the first date.  Like Kelly Clarkson, I do not hook up.  This guy abruptly states during dessert on the second date that there was no chemistry, which I took to mean no forthcoming nudity, and he left.  I sat there thinking “What is the protocol when someone leaves during dessert on a date?  Can I finish his dessert for him?  It’s just sitting there.”  So I ate it.  It was a good brownie.

One guy on OKCupid sent me a message that said, ‘I want to be a baby.”  I told him I didn’t understand what that meant.  He said I want someone to treat me like a baby.  I told him, “I’ma pray for you heathen” and then I did what you’re supposed to do when you have an unwanted baby, I called Child Protective Services and had him placed with a foster family in Valencia.

                There was one guy who was a bisexual man in an open marriage with a bisexual woman.  I asked “What exactly in my profile made you think I’d want to be part that nasty mess?  I’ma pray for you heathen.”  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not judging.  Be who you need to be.  If you want to be a whore, go right ahead but keep me out of it. 

                My profile says I’m a Christian and it’s important.  I mean I’m not taking Jesus on the first date, but it’s going to come up at some point.  I tried gay Christian dating sites but they were worse.  One of them was like Grindr with Bible verses.  My screen name is BrooksBrothersPrep, which is obvious.  One guy’s name was Git U Sum 2Nite.  I don’t think he was talking about salvation.  Call it a hunch.

                Well, I’ve noticed a number of heathens in the audience who need prayer so I’m gonna stop talking now and go pray for them. 

Thank you.