The most anticipated show was Omid Djalili, an Iranian comedian. Me and Nick got tickets three days ahead because they were selling out.

I felt he was going to be the Middle Eastern version of Yakov “What a country!” Smirnov. I was gladly wrong.

Almost.

He started his show by playing the soundtrack to Mary Poppins. That was a good mood setter for the ambivalent.

I laughed alot. Alot.

He’s a big guy who does a good, unintentional Kathy Najimy. He started out, “I’ve been tired with my flight lessons and all.” Oh boy, here comes Yakov. But he was truly funny. He belly-danced and it was funny. I kept laughing. I don’t get many British references and there were many but I got some. I know Michael Fish does the weather on BBC. Now.

“My wife is British and we have to compromise to make it work. She has come tonight with her sister-in-law. They are sitting in the back with veils.”

I can’t remember everything but he ended his show with a nice message about Sept 11. And danced again.

I ate a nice sit down dinner of fried haddock, peas, mash potatoes, a bit of haggis, tatties, and beer. Good.

I saw a sketch comedy team that was a bit too much on the college humor. They did a Meatloaf parody but it wasn’t funny and pretty much just made fun of his Lose Weight Exercise. Fuckin stupid. Meatloaf is greatness and you better know how to make fun of him. Shit, I don’t know.

Also, if you are going to make political humor, fucking know what you’re talking about and don’t make self-aware sound bites.

I’m no funny guy but I watch enough funny to know funny.

And if you’re gonna make fun of Dawson’s Creek, well, you can fuck that up if you wish but don’t.

I can’t think very good. You’ve made me stupider.

I ate some pasta and drank some Austrailian wine. Sometimes, I feel a punchline to what someone else has said but it takes a fucking eternity to get there. So, those that know me tend to roll their eyes as I begin, “Have you seen ‘Moscow on the Hudson’?” because they know it’s going to be a long night.

People are real polite here. Like those chipmunks that say things like “indubitubly”.

I bought some socks today, too. I’ve been wearing the same pair for at least 3 days. I put them in the window sill to let them air out. I’m excited about tommorrow. New socks!

Everyone should have a one-man show.

I had shitty pizza last night.

I listened to Frank Zappa after dinner.

This is the cultural capital of the world right now so I’m told.

I had an eclair at the bakery on the way home from bad pizza last night. It was dry. If you see my belly when I get back you will know why it is large.

People love smoking here. Alot. They smoke and smoke and smoke and it’s more normal than American smoke.

I drank some apple juice and some wine and some scotch and some orange juice. Today.

I saw Throat today. It was a one man show. It was amazing. He did two rope acts and a cloud swing act and sang and dance and kneaded dough. It’s one of those shows you can’t really explain. It was just brilliant.

Yesterday, I saw two shows: Goner and Saucy Jack and the Space Vixens. Goner was a comedy set in a hospital. It was fast-paced and funny.

“What do you have against white people? Don’t you like castles?”

Saucy Jack though . . . I wanted to like it. Shit, if you’re going to make a rock musical have a little originality. Rocky Horror is a good musical to take from but don’t take all of it! Fuckin A, they had a Frankenfurter, an Eddie, a Riff Raff-well two Riff Raffs, and a Colombia. It’s okay to have a catchy dance-along number which they did and the performers were good. The stage within a bar was cool. The bartender was a part of the show. But the musical itself sucked. It even had the same ending as Rocky Horror. Shitty.

Mark, the Swiss drummer, refused the wine after smelling it at the pizza shithole last night. He’s so Swiss.

I had haggis today. It was like corn beef hash, deep fried with potato.

My two French-Swiss friends are very good people. One plays stand up bass and the other plays drums. It’s hard to talk to them sometimes because of the language barrier but it’s my own fault for not speaking French.

I learned some Swiss insults:

Your mother is your father.

Please tell your mother to stop changing lipsticks. My cock is a rainbow.

Even their insults are beautiful.

It’s okay to get high in Switzerland. The chocolate, cheese, watches still get made on time; the money in the Swiss bank accounts aren’t going anywhere; and taking a bottle of wine to the lake is so yesterday and Weimar. You can buy it at the store.

You can also get a work permit as an artist and be a prostitute. For real!

You can walk around with an open container of beer, too.

But you can’t take a shower after 11:00. I can’t wait to see “COPS” in Switzerland.

“Yeah, this one’s got a lot of soap on him. He’s gonna be hard to catch.”

Friday

I had a “cheese n burger” for lunch today. It’s a cheeseburger but it’s dipped in batter and deep fried and put on a bun with brown sauce.

I lost my wallet.

I found it. It was under my bed.

I saw girls in shiny jumpsuits like in “Cannonball Run” giving away soda.

I saw a show today called “The Cat Must Die”. I wanted to like it because it was a Comedy/Musical. It had the ingredients for a good show:

-a cat that drives a remote control car. The cat wasn’t real and not a puppet either.

-God has a Scottish/Yiddish accent.

-Stephen Hawking sings “I Got You Babe”

-A pirate named Edgar Allen Poe

-Underwater scientist who builds “clockwork Nazis” 50 ft tall out of glass. She is Hawking’s nemesis

-The ultimate force of evil is a moustache.

But I didn’t like it.

There are fanny packs all over Europe. They don’t feel shame from the comics who scold them.

Thursday

I saw “Jerry Springer: The Opera”. It was good. It wasn’t just a gimmick winky. And if it was it was very well done.

My favorite was the man/baby who sang “I just want to shit my pants”.

I also liked the Jerry cam followed by the singing, dancing Ku Klux Klan. The singing was fucking good. The second half was a bit too much ridiculous with Jerry shot and sent to hell. I’d go see it again.

We’re still stuck at this rest stop. Two girls in horse-riding pants put diesel in their car on accident.

“Did you start it?”

“No.”

“Don’t. We’ll drain it in the garage.”

I like girls in horse-riding pants. I like when girls dress like baseball players, too.

I lived next door to a girl in high school who rode horses. She’d come out of the house in those tight pants and I’d stare at her from my window. She was hot. She was good friends with the girl I took to the homecoming dance. After we broke up, she would come over to her house and lay out in the backyard. I’d mow the lawn and pretend I wasn’t looking but it was hard. She loved metal and wore those flip over boots.