I’M READY FOR MY CLOSE-UP
AKA, what I’ll do when I hit it big
I’m Outta Here!
So the movie premieres at 7:30 p.m. Sept. 11 at Somerville Theater. It’s called “Sweeney Killing Sweeney.”
It’s going to be a huge hit. I’m going to be rich and famous. I’m moving to Hollywood, I’ve already packed the Irish luggage — two rubbish bags (jumbo size).
I’m going to be huge, the phone won’t stop ringing; it’ll be ringing off the hook. (Does anyone have a phone with a hook anymore?)
I digress. Here’s my to do list:
The next gig I do, the first person that texts while I’m performing, I will take it and stick it where the sun don’t shine. The first heckle I get from some drunken halfwit “who is just trying to help me,” I won’t answer with some clever witticisms but with a right cross breaking his jaw, YAY!
Cancel all dates in clubs named after the guy. (Note to young comics: Don’t ever work clubs named Vinny’s Hell Hole, Billy’s Comedy Cave, Joey’s Comedy Toilet. You get the idea.) Inform all Chinese restaurants my jokes are no longer part of the buffet. (I’ve worked at one place 20 years, they still don’t know who I am. It could be karaoke for all they know; “butts in seats” is the only criteria.) Become a humorist working in theaters only. No obligation to be funny, just be “interesting,” “compelling,” “thoughtprovoking.” My datebook will be full from Cambridge all the way to Somerville. Looks — Give me the works:
Stomach reduction. Lips fattened up, give me two fat lips.
Widen the eyes. Break the nose.
Give me $80,000 in dental work.
Hair: hair transplant, scalp reduction, wig (make it hideous), Hair Club for Men lifetime membership.
Then spray tan me, double dose. Make me hazelnut.
Become a movie star. Develop opinions, don’t bother with facts to back them up, I’m a star for God’s sake!
Go on Bill Maher, “The View” and maybe even “Morning Joe.”
Storm off one of them, it doesn’t matter which one.
Become difficult; practice saying “I’m not leaving my trailer.”
Do a showing of my paintings. No I don’t paint, but it will show how intriguing I am.
No more sunglasses from the Dollar Store — only CVS. I’ll have the money, and I’m worth it!
Write a moving autobiography. It will be titled “I Was A Mistake: How I overcame unbelievable odds to become unbelievable, the unbelievable true story.” (Oprah will do the introduction.)
It’s going to be amazing. I’m going to become so big, I won’t even talk to myself. Please don’t look at me, if you see me, don’t look at me directly, meanwhile just in case, next weekend I’m playing at the Dunkin’ Donuts in Somerville, I work weddings, bar mitzvahs, store openings etc. Contact my manager, Paul Manafort.