Video promoting the next OSCW show is here. It's December 12 at the Hazeldean dome.
I also have a YouTube video up of a recent set. Because it's shot from a different angle and a different spot in the club in front of a different crowd, it's hard to compare it to this first video shot back in February and see if there's been any growth.
But that's comedy. You never get the same show twice.
So feel free to come watch and see what you get.
Upcoming shows are:
Saturday, November 28 - PRIVATE FUNCTION, Grande Prairie
Wednesday, December 9 - The Laugh Shop, Edmonton
Thursday, December 17 - PRIVATE FUNCTION, Evansburg
Monday, December 21 - The Comic Strip, Edmonton
Upcoming Wrestling Appearances
Saturday, December 12 - OSCW Above The Rest, Hazeldean Dome, Edmonton
I've never particularly enjoyed watching myself on video. I spent half the time staring at myself going 'do I always hold my right hand like that?'
According to Bastet, I do.
Off to Grande Prairie. The road is always fun. You never know what to expect. Sometimes it's Hot Chicks and Glory. Other times it's nearly running out of gas and freezing to death along a stretch of deserted highway.
Eitehr way the stories--and the memories--are great.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Dogs Dogs Dogs
Bastet is house-sitting for a few months.
They have dogs.
As her pseudonym might suggest, Bastet is NOT a dog person. During the first few days, she even referred to one of the animals as "Kitten," hoping it would start acting like one.
No luck.
They are now "Dog A" and "Dog B." Dog A is whichever one happens to be closest to her at the moment.
I've been helping out where I can, although I have to admit, I love dogs like I love children--other people's are great, but taking responsibility for one of my own is a little too much for me.
I spent all last night dreaming of dogs. Not the Slayer's quiet, comforting dog either (although The Slayer WAS in it). Dogs in my apartment. Dogs outside.
Big dog. Little dogs. Weirdly misshapen dogs with oversized heads and tiny bodies. Dogs with owners. Dogs with notes on their collar that I couldn't read (Because you can't read in dreams, doncha know) but that I knew were things like "We've moved. If you find this dog, please take care of it."
Dogs everywhere, and somehow I was supposed to look after all of them.
Doing a show in Grande Prairie this weekend.
I never thought I'd say this, but I think it will be good for my health to get on the road.
Saturday, November 28 - Grande Prairie
Wednesday, December 9 - The Laugh Shop, Edmonton
Monday, December 21 - The Comic Strip, Edmonton
Upcoming Wrestling Appearances
Saturday, December 12 - OSCW Above The Rest, Hazeldean Dome, Edmonton
They have dogs.
As her pseudonym might suggest, Bastet is NOT a dog person. During the first few days, she even referred to one of the animals as "Kitten," hoping it would start acting like one.
No luck.
They are now "Dog A" and "Dog B." Dog A is whichever one happens to be closest to her at the moment.
I've been helping out where I can, although I have to admit, I love dogs like I love children--other people's are great, but taking responsibility for one of my own is a little too much for me.
I spent all last night dreaming of dogs. Not the Slayer's quiet, comforting dog either (although The Slayer WAS in it). Dogs in my apartment. Dogs outside.
Big dog. Little dogs. Weirdly misshapen dogs with oversized heads and tiny bodies. Dogs with owners. Dogs with notes on their collar that I couldn't read (Because you can't read in dreams, doncha know) but that I knew were things like "We've moved. If you find this dog, please take care of it."
Dogs everywhere, and somehow I was supposed to look after all of them.
Doing a show in Grande Prairie this weekend.
I never thought I'd say this, but I think it will be good for my health to get on the road.
Saturday, November 28 - Grande Prairie
Wednesday, December 9 - The Laugh Shop, Edmonton
Monday, December 21 - The Comic Strip, Edmonton
Upcoming Wrestling Appearances
Saturday, December 12 - OSCW Above The Rest, Hazeldean Dome, Edmonton
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Comedy Updates
Saturday, November 28 - Grande Prairie
Wednesday, December 9 - The Laugh Shop, Edmonton
Monday, December 21 - The Comic Strip, Edmonton
I also perform most Sundays at The Druid in Edmonton. Shows start at 9 O'clock. If you're interesting in TRYING stand-up comedy, it's a great place to get your feet wet.
Wednesday, December 9 - The Laugh Shop, Edmonton
Monday, December 21 - The Comic Strip, Edmonton
I also perform most Sundays at The Druid in Edmonton. Shows start at 9 O'clock. If you're interesting in TRYING stand-up comedy, it's a great place to get your feet wet.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Dan Vs. The Witch From Stardust
It's occurred to me that I spend more time talking about the OSCW wrestling after-parties than I do the actual shows...which probably isn't great promotion work
So here's the run down.
The show was great. Eclipse is the new OSCW champion after defeating Heavy Metal. Brady Roberts made his triumphant return. Barricade--well, he didn't WIN his match--but he's in the record books as "not losing" which is forward progress, I suppose.
Also, Big Jess accidentally pinned a referee and threw up under the ring.
Next show is December 12. I actually have tickets this time, so you can buy them from me.
In comedy news, it was a good weekend. I did a spot at the Comic Strip that was filmed. I was happy with the set, and if the quality is okay, I may shortly have a decent current clip of myself on YouTube. BUTCH BRADLEY is headlining there and he's a great comic in addition to having some hair-raising stories about his multiple tours entertaining troops in Iraq.
Say, did you know OSCW has after-parties?
As usual, many ridiculous things happened. We sang a lot, I salsa-danced with the promoter's significant other and had my shirt ripped open by a woman I hadn't met, and 'The Athlete' Alexander Hale and I were hit on by a rather interesting woman, which lead to me saying words that I've heard 93 235 935 times in bar pick-ups but have never actually uttered myself until that night.
This woman looked like a cross between Miss Hannigan in Annie, and the mummy. She was weathered by time and despair, extremely drunk, and terrifyingly sexually aggressive.
She slinked up to me as I was finishing my song and without saying anything, stood inches away from me, raking her gaze--which blazed with naked hunger--up and down my body.
To which I replied classily: "Lady, you're scaring me."
(Big Jess overheard this exchange and burst out laughing. I think he thought I was joking or teasing her. Naturally, I encouraged this interpretation in order to maintain my dignity in front of the guys, but I really was scared. It felt like coming face to face with one of the witches from Neil Gaiman's Stardust)
She then pulled the same move on Alexander Hale. Hale is over six feet tall and 200 pounds of twenty-something main event muscle. This man broke his arm in two places and gutted out fifteen hours of agony before he was able to make it to the hospital.
Alexander Hale is a tough, tough man.
Yet in this moment, he had the wide-eyed, pale expression of a four-year old who has just discovered the Boogeyman is real after his babysitter accidentally left the closet door open when putting him to bed.
And that's when I said the words. They're words I've heard in every awkward bar pick-up situation I've ever seen. I've heard them said to strangers, friends, and even had them said to me. But I've never heard them said by a male. Certainly I never believed I would say them.
But I did. I opened my mouth, straightened my spine, looked that woman assertively in the eye and said...
"I have to go to the bathroom now."
And Hale, without a second's hesitation, said: "I'll come with you."
I didn't actually grab his hand and pull him away like a nineteen-year-old girl saving her friend in a nightclub, but I'd be lying if I said the thought didn't flash across my mind.
(There's a post-script to this story. While the woman was singing her song, "Cold As Ice" William Saint, who is supposed to be OSCW's heartless, vicious, sadistic villain went up and presented her with a rose. And when she attempted to make out with him, he deflected her with grace and good-humour, citing loyalty to his wife. So in the end, the good guys hid in the bathroom while the bad guy made some lonely woman's night. There's a moral here somewhere.)
So here's the run down.
The show was great. Eclipse is the new OSCW champion after defeating Heavy Metal. Brady Roberts made his triumphant return. Barricade--well, he didn't WIN his match--but he's in the record books as "not losing" which is forward progress, I suppose.
Also, Big Jess accidentally pinned a referee and threw up under the ring.
Next show is December 12. I actually have tickets this time, so you can buy them from me.
In comedy news, it was a good weekend. I did a spot at the Comic Strip that was filmed. I was happy with the set, and if the quality is okay, I may shortly have a decent current clip of myself on YouTube. BUTCH BRADLEY is headlining there and he's a great comic in addition to having some hair-raising stories about his multiple tours entertaining troops in Iraq.
Say, did you know OSCW has after-parties?
As usual, many ridiculous things happened. We sang a lot, I salsa-danced with the promoter's significant other and had my shirt ripped open by a woman I hadn't met, and 'The Athlete' Alexander Hale and I were hit on by a rather interesting woman, which lead to me saying words that I've heard 93 235 935 times in bar pick-ups but have never actually uttered myself until that night.
This woman looked like a cross between Miss Hannigan in Annie, and the mummy. She was weathered by time and despair, extremely drunk, and terrifyingly sexually aggressive.
She slinked up to me as I was finishing my song and without saying anything, stood inches away from me, raking her gaze--which blazed with naked hunger--up and down my body.
To which I replied classily: "Lady, you're scaring me."
(Big Jess overheard this exchange and burst out laughing. I think he thought I was joking or teasing her. Naturally, I encouraged this interpretation in order to maintain my dignity in front of the guys, but I really was scared. It felt like coming face to face with one of the witches from Neil Gaiman's Stardust)
She then pulled the same move on Alexander Hale. Hale is over six feet tall and 200 pounds of twenty-something main event muscle. This man broke his arm in two places and gutted out fifteen hours of agony before he was able to make it to the hospital.
Alexander Hale is a tough, tough man.
Yet in this moment, he had the wide-eyed, pale expression of a four-year old who has just discovered the Boogeyman is real after his babysitter accidentally left the closet door open when putting him to bed.
And that's when I said the words. They're words I've heard in every awkward bar pick-up situation I've ever seen. I've heard them said to strangers, friends, and even had them said to me. But I've never heard them said by a male. Certainly I never believed I would say them.
But I did. I opened my mouth, straightened my spine, looked that woman assertively in the eye and said...
"I have to go to the bathroom now."
And Hale, without a second's hesitation, said: "I'll come with you."
I didn't actually grab his hand and pull him away like a nineteen-year-old girl saving her friend in a nightclub, but I'd be lying if I said the thought didn't flash across my mind.
(There's a post-script to this story. While the woman was singing her song, "Cold As Ice" William Saint, who is supposed to be OSCW's heartless, vicious, sadistic villain went up and presented her with a rose. And when she attempted to make out with him, he deflected her with grace and good-humour, citing loyalty to his wife. So in the end, the good guys hid in the bathroom while the bad guy made some lonely woman's night. There's a moral here somewhere.)
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Open Letter To Evil Criminal Overlords
Dear Sir/Madam/Creature Beyond Human Comprehension:
I have been noticing an alarming decline in the quality of the minions conducting the Business of Evil's day-to-day activities. I would like to remind you that a minion's failure is NOT the minion's fault. It is YOUR fault for not providing them the foundation they need in order to serve succesfully as expendable cogs in your master plan.
Remember, first contact with your organization typically starts with your minions. They are the public face of your organization. As such, they should be well-trained, professional, and properly groomed at all times. Uniforms should be in good repair. There should be no in-fighting or profanity in public, especially when on-duty or around children and families. When attacking they should do so in orderly fashion.
Your minions are a reflection of your character. Please treat them as such.
Sincerely,
Dan Brodribb
I have been noticing an alarming decline in the quality of the minions conducting the Business of Evil's day-to-day activities. I would like to remind you that a minion's failure is NOT the minion's fault. It is YOUR fault for not providing them the foundation they need in order to serve succesfully as expendable cogs in your master plan.
Remember, first contact with your organization typically starts with your minions. They are the public face of your organization. As such, they should be well-trained, professional, and properly groomed at all times. Uniforms should be in good repair. There should be no in-fighting or profanity in public, especially when on-duty or around children and families. When attacking they should do so in orderly fashion.
Your minions are a reflection of your character. Please treat them as such.
Sincerely,
Dan Brodribb
Friday, November 13, 2009
Things That Make Dan's Head Explode
(This is a repost from my Hot Chicks & Strangers blog)
Read a post on a message board the other day about a guy who complains that women he hits on in bars rarely call him back. Then later on in the post he referred to women who go home with guys after meeting them at a bar "whores and fucked up."
That kind of shit makes my head explode.
First of all, there's the judgment.
Second of all, there's the weird madonna/whore psychology going on there.
Third of all, there's the fact that--oh I don't know--HE IS HITTING ON THEM.
If you really, truly, sincerely believe these women are whores and fuck-ups, WHY ARE YOU LOWERING YOURSELF TO HITTING ON THEM? It says your standards are either a) low or b) not something you are able to uphold. Neither of those qualities are panty-wettingly attractive.
Fourth of all, there's the fact that HE is hitting on them and then judging THEM when they do exactly what it is he's trying to get them to do in the first place.
Let's turn it over to the Hot Chicks & Strangers Cheer Team:
Gimme a W
Gimme a T
Gimme a F
Gimme a ?
That is the weirdest combination of counterproductive, hypocrital, and psychologically fucked-up I've heard of in some time.
If I were a woman, I wouldn't call him back either.
Read a post on a message board the other day about a guy who complains that women he hits on in bars rarely call him back. Then later on in the post he referred to women who go home with guys after meeting them at a bar "whores and fucked up."
That kind of shit makes my head explode.
First of all, there's the judgment.
Second of all, there's the weird madonna/whore psychology going on there.
Third of all, there's the fact that--oh I don't know--HE IS HITTING ON THEM.
If you really, truly, sincerely believe these women are whores and fuck-ups, WHY ARE YOU LOWERING YOURSELF TO HITTING ON THEM? It says your standards are either a) low or b) not something you are able to uphold. Neither of those qualities are panty-wettingly attractive.
Fourth of all, there's the fact that HE is hitting on them and then judging THEM when they do exactly what it is he's trying to get them to do in the first place.
Let's turn it over to the Hot Chicks & Strangers Cheer Team:
Gimme a W
Gimme a T
Gimme a F
Gimme a ?
That is the weirdest combination of counterproductive, hypocrital, and psychologically fucked-up I've heard of in some time.
If I were a woman, I wouldn't call him back either.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Conan The Bodhisattva: Film Studies With Dan
I like quotes from movies. Reservoir Dogs. Big Trouble in Little China. Tommy Boy. In an old Edmonton Journal column I once posited--inconceivable as it may seem--that the greatest pick-up lines in the world are lines from The Princess Bride.
Wrestler One (*) and I often amuse ourselves by quoting Transformers: The Animated Movie back and forth at each other. I've never met anyone else who knows it that well. My favorite line is one I use whenever someone ignores my helpful advice. In my best Orson Welles as Unicron voice I say. "Very well. Proceed on your way to oblivion."
Maybe I'm getting too into Buddhism but, I was watching Conan the Barbarian recently and something occurred to me.
As an action movie, Conan is plodding and slow. As a story...it isn't one. It's just a collection of scenes held together by the loosest of thru-lines.
But as a meditation piece, it's awesome (**). Where the Buddha talked about the suffering and the end of suffering, Conan asks the question "What is best in life?"
Every character in the movie seems to take a stab (sometimes literally) at that question. What can one believe in? Love? Revenge? Money? Power? Faith? Technology? Enemy-crushing and the resulting female lamentations? Every person in the movie is driven by their own answer to that question...as is their ultmate fate.
Think about it. The film opens with Conan's father giving his answer:
"The secret of steel has always carried with it a mystery. You must learn its riddle, Conan. You must learn its discipline. For no one - no one in this world can you trust. Not men, not women, not beasts.
[Points to sword] This you can trust. "
It's a convincing and poetic speech, and only slightly undermined by the fact that less than ten minutes Conan Sr. delivers it, he is eaten by wolves.
So much for trusting the sword.
That's okay. Conan may not have his father, but there is no force stronger than a mother's love...oh, wait. She just got her head chopped off by the guy who plays Eric Roberts' taekwon-do coach in Best of the Best.
It sounds crazy, but I'm sure I'm right about this. Everyone from the gladiators to Thulsa Doom to Subotai to the dead skeleton king put their faith in something. And where did it get them?
Watch the movie to find out.
So what's the answer? According to the movie, what is best in life?
I don't actually know. I got bored and stopped watching. If I wanted to meditate, I would have fucking meditated. This is supposed to be a damn action movie.
But one quote stayed with me. I don't know why, but the old king said something that kept me up thinking for a long, long while:
"There comes a time, thief, when the jewels cease to sparkle, when the gold loses its luster, when the throne room becomes a prison, and all that is left is a father's love for his child."
I'm not a father. Partly because of circumstance, party because I decided seeking fame and fortune was more important to me.
Yikes.
Now I really HAVE to make it as a famous salsa-dancing, Buddhist, comedian/relationship writer.
After all, if my throne room becomes a prison, then I want to be able to afford a sweet stereo system for it.
(*)Who competes in OSCW, next show November 21 at the Hazeldean Dome, getchur' tickets NOW
(**) Granted, my views on movies are a little skewed. I still believe that the Nightmare on Elm Street series is not really about a dream-stalking monster but about parenthood and the generation gap--going full circle when Nancy, the daughter in the first film, becomes the mother in the New Nightmare. Except for the second one. That one was about being gay.
Wrestler One (*) and I often amuse ourselves by quoting Transformers: The Animated Movie back and forth at each other. I've never met anyone else who knows it that well. My favorite line is one I use whenever someone ignores my helpful advice. In my best Orson Welles as Unicron voice I say. "Very well. Proceed on your way to oblivion."
Maybe I'm getting too into Buddhism but, I was watching Conan the Barbarian recently and something occurred to me.
As an action movie, Conan is plodding and slow. As a story...it isn't one. It's just a collection of scenes held together by the loosest of thru-lines.
But as a meditation piece, it's awesome (**). Where the Buddha talked about the suffering and the end of suffering, Conan asks the question "What is best in life?"
Every character in the movie seems to take a stab (sometimes literally) at that question. What can one believe in? Love? Revenge? Money? Power? Faith? Technology? Enemy-crushing and the resulting female lamentations? Every person in the movie is driven by their own answer to that question...as is their ultmate fate.
Think about it. The film opens with Conan's father giving his answer:
"The secret of steel has always carried with it a mystery. You must learn its riddle, Conan. You must learn its discipline. For no one - no one in this world can you trust. Not men, not women, not beasts.
[Points to sword] This you can trust. "
It's a convincing and poetic speech, and only slightly undermined by the fact that less than ten minutes Conan Sr. delivers it, he is eaten by wolves.
So much for trusting the sword.
That's okay. Conan may not have his father, but there is no force stronger than a mother's love...oh, wait. She just got her head chopped off by the guy who plays Eric Roberts' taekwon-do coach in Best of the Best.
It sounds crazy, but I'm sure I'm right about this. Everyone from the gladiators to Thulsa Doom to Subotai to the dead skeleton king put their faith in something. And where did it get them?
Watch the movie to find out.
So what's the answer? According to the movie, what is best in life?
I don't actually know. I got bored and stopped watching. If I wanted to meditate, I would have fucking meditated. This is supposed to be a damn action movie.
But one quote stayed with me. I don't know why, but the old king said something that kept me up thinking for a long, long while:
"There comes a time, thief, when the jewels cease to sparkle, when the gold loses its luster, when the throne room becomes a prison, and all that is left is a father's love for his child."
I'm not a father. Partly because of circumstance, party because I decided seeking fame and fortune was more important to me.
Yikes.
Now I really HAVE to make it as a famous salsa-dancing, Buddhist, comedian/relationship writer.
After all, if my throne room becomes a prison, then I want to be able to afford a sweet stereo system for it.
(*)Who competes in OSCW, next show November 21 at the Hazeldean Dome, getchur' tickets NOW
(**) Granted, my views on movies are a little skewed. I still believe that the Nightmare on Elm Street series is not really about a dream-stalking monster but about parenthood and the generation gap--going full circle when Nancy, the daughter in the first film, becomes the mother in the New Nightmare. Except for the second one. That one was about being gay.
Monday, November 09, 2009
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
Never Cry Swine
Upcoming Comedy
Wednesday, November 4 - The Laugh Shop, Edmonton
Monday, November 9 - The Comic Strip, Edmonton
Upcoming Wrestling
Saturday, November 21 - OSCW Principals of Destruction, Hazeldean Community Hall - Edmonton
Writing
Dan Brodribb writes on dating and relationships for the Suicide Girls website. Current article is here.
My sweetie has been ill with the swine flu.
It sucks watching someone you care about suffer because there is only so much you can do. In my case, I have been reading to her. Of course, the book I've chosen--Eat Pray Love--is one I've wanted her to read for a long time. Naturally, I'm seizing the opportunity to force feed it to her.
There's no audience like a captive audience.
There's also no sweetie like my sweetie. The flu has given her chills so she's spent the last couple days wearing the giant, furry wolf costume her friend wore for Halloween.
She is the cutest wolf ever.
It's kind of weird coming upstairs to see a giant wolf laying sick and forlorn on the bed though. All she was missing was a caption beneath her:
Swine Flu--The Three Little Pigs' Revenge.
Or possibly it should have been a picture sent with a note formed with letters cut out of the newspaper:
"Dear Mr. Wolf,
You aren't the only person who can play dress up.
And wolves have grandmothers too.
Sincerely,
Red Riding Hood"
The H1N1 outbreak has also instigated a round of one of my pet peeves--people refusing to acknowledge their mistakes.
It drives me crazy when figures both public and otherwise either a) refuse to admit fault or b) issue these mealy-mouthed non-apologies. I suppose there are legal reasons for it, but I still get annoyed.
Is making a mistake that bad? Seriously, we've never had anything like this H1N1 thing before. There's nothing wrong with admitting you were not fully prepared or miscalculated how things would play out. Instead they refuse to acknowledge any problems whatsoever.
It isn't just him though. I've met people who refuse to admit they're wrong, even when they clearly are.
Even more frustrating, I've had people tell me that I shouldn't ever admit to being wrong or making a mistake, that it's a sign of weakness or lack of confidence.
I don't buy it. I've always believe truly self-assured people aren't afraid to admit when they mishandled things. I tend to respect and trust a person who acknowledges failure more than someone who doesn't.
And I think a lot of us would in a better place if we focused a little less on LOOKING confident and a little more on BEING confident.
Wednesday, November 4 - The Laugh Shop, Edmonton
Monday, November 9 - The Comic Strip, Edmonton
Upcoming Wrestling
Saturday, November 21 - OSCW Principals of Destruction, Hazeldean Community Hall - Edmonton
Writing
Dan Brodribb writes on dating and relationships for the Suicide Girls website. Current article is here.
My sweetie has been ill with the swine flu.
It sucks watching someone you care about suffer because there is only so much you can do. In my case, I have been reading to her. Of course, the book I've chosen--Eat Pray Love--is one I've wanted her to read for a long time. Naturally, I'm seizing the opportunity to force feed it to her.
There's no audience like a captive audience.
There's also no sweetie like my sweetie. The flu has given her chills so she's spent the last couple days wearing the giant, furry wolf costume her friend wore for Halloween.
She is the cutest wolf ever.
It's kind of weird coming upstairs to see a giant wolf laying sick and forlorn on the bed though. All she was missing was a caption beneath her:
Swine Flu--The Three Little Pigs' Revenge.
Or possibly it should have been a picture sent with a note formed with letters cut out of the newspaper:
"Dear Mr. Wolf,
You aren't the only person who can play dress up.
And wolves have grandmothers too.
Sincerely,
Red Riding Hood"
The H1N1 outbreak has also instigated a round of one of my pet peeves--people refusing to acknowledge their mistakes.
It drives me crazy when figures both public and otherwise either a) refuse to admit fault or b) issue these mealy-mouthed non-apologies. I suppose there are legal reasons for it, but I still get annoyed.
Is making a mistake that bad? Seriously, we've never had anything like this H1N1 thing before. There's nothing wrong with admitting you were not fully prepared or miscalculated how things would play out. Instead they refuse to acknowledge any problems whatsoever.
It isn't just him though. I've met people who refuse to admit they're wrong, even when they clearly are.
Even more frustrating, I've had people tell me that I shouldn't ever admit to being wrong or making a mistake, that it's a sign of weakness or lack of confidence.
I don't buy it. I've always believe truly self-assured people aren't afraid to admit when they mishandled things. I tend to respect and trust a person who acknowledges failure more than someone who doesn't.
And I think a lot of us would in a better place if we focused a little less on LOOKING confident and a little more on BEING confident.
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