My weight has affected me all my life and in every area. I believe I am in the financial situation I'm in because of it. By financial situation, I mean I have no finances. None. zilch. Nada. Goose egg. Ummmm...other words for nothing inserted here. You get the idea. I was pulled into the entertainment business because it seemed to be the only way I could fit in with society. I always felt like an outsider, sometimes even a freak. So I didn't follow my friends into college because I never thought I would be accepted. Yeah, it sounds like I have an inferiority complex and I do, because of the weight. Not an excuse, just a fat...I mean, fact. See? See how it affects everything?
It also has affected me with women. In my earlier blogs, I mentioned I was very late getting to the sex table (ok, ewww, sorry for that). I had no self esteem and couldn't believe a woman would find this (gestures widely up and down the body) attractive in any way. And for the most part, I was right. Some people have asked me why I didn't just go to a professional (as in hooker) and just get it done when I was younger. Its simple. I believed I would get rejected, even by them. That is how bad my self esteem was...and is.
Every once in a while, I would come across a girl that was crazy enough to get with me. Even then, they would struggle internally between what I would guess was attraction to the personality and revulsion to the physicality. It was never more apparent then when I went on a date with a woman I had met on an online dating service. A free service that will go unnamed except to say they treat you like seafood. This woman contacted me first. She seemed to like my pics and we went from texts to phone calls. Because she had a cold at the time we first started talking, we weren't able to meet right away. consequently, we got to know each other on the phone for almost 2 weeks. I am probably one of the funnier and more charming people you will talk to, especially if I am trying to impress. It is natural, but entirely traced back to my weight and having to "entertain" to be accepted.
Not only did we hit it off, she even went as far as coming up with a pet name for me. Can't recall it, but I do remember it was kind of strange to start calling someone a cute name before meeting them.
We finally set a date to meet and since we were hitting it off so well, we skipped the coffee meet and went straight to the dinner date. We decided on the Cheesecake Factory. Now, she knew I was obese. She saw pictures. I told her. There was nothing hidden on my part. She told me she was plus sized also so there it was.
I got a little dolled up, nice shirt, good pants. Combed my bald scalp. The usual. I get to the restaurant and she is already inside. A big and tall blonde, with a lot of hair piled high. She looked as I had expected. Then she saw me. And I saw "the look" all over her well painted face. Disappointment emanated from her like too strong perfume. It was like someone told her that not only there was no Santa Claus, but also that Jesus was really a fat guy.
The dinner was uncomfortable at best. We would talk, I would make her laugh and then, almost like magic she would remember she didn't like my look. Half the meal she would be laughing and the other half looking away. I figured it was over so I tried to get us out of there fast. We finished and I walked her to her car. I was about to say goodbye when she says,"So, its still early, did you want to go somewhere else? You mentioned mini golf at your work. Can we go there?" I was very confused. She looked like she couldn't get out of there fast enough and now she wanted to spend more time with me. I said ok and she followed me to the putt place. We played a round of golf and seemed to have a good time. Got back out to the car and I started to shake her hand goodbye when she grabbed me and gave me a big hug. She left and I headed home. Not 5 minutes later, I get a call from her. She was telling me what a great time she had. I decided to put all the cards on the table and called her on the way she acted during the date. She said I was right and that she was sorry. She didn't know what came over her, blah...blah...blah...
I told her that it was nice to meet her and sorry it didn't go anywhere. She really sounded upset that it ended that way. More mad at herself than anything. She even continued to call me but I finally stopped answering.
I took my profile off the site. It made me realize that I just didn't want to have to deal with that kind of rejection. Or so I thought.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
The music of my life
Years ago, I had come up with the title for my memoirs, if I was going to do anything exciting enough to warrant them. This title stemmed from a period in my life that was at once very rewarding and deeply painful at the same time. It starts here.
In the late 80's, early 90's I was still searching for the one area in which I would make my mark. Although I had some success with stand up comedy and improv acting, I still felt drawn to my real passion...male modeling. Okay, maybe not that. What I really loved to do more than anything else was music. As far back as I can remember, I loved how music made me feel. My grandmother on my mom's side was one of the first women to graduate the Yale school of music around 1920. She worked her way through college by playing piano in a silent movie theater as the movie was running. When I used to visit her as a child, she would have me sit on the bench with her as she played classical music. My favorite was always Beethoven and to this day, "Moonlight Sonata" will make me tear up. It always reminds me of her and that time that was all my own.
Later in life I learned several instruments including trumpet and baritone horn, which I played in the high school band. But I really loved percussion and started playing drums at about 14 years old. I would set up my drums in the basement and attach red and blue lights to the ceiling beam, pointing down at me. With my stereo behind me, I would blast 70's rock and play along. To my parent's credit, they never once told me to turn it down or stop playing. I really loved them for that. When I moved to Ca. I drove across the country in my Chevy van with all that I owned in the back, including my drum set. After living in Ca for several years, I started playing with a few bands. I was also acting and one day, a friend of mine introduced me to a friend of his. This guy was looking for someone just like me who was an actor and a musician for a special play he was doing. Seems the play was written by another friend of his from Texas, where they had all grown up together. the play was about a blues guitarist in Texas who's 8 month pregnant wife is forcing him to give up his dream of music to join the real world by getting a job. He promises he will but finds out an A & R guy from a record label will be coming to his last show. He feels this could be his big break. He has a band playing with him and in the play, the band actually needs to perform several numbers. This is where I come in.
They needed a drummer who could also act. They already had a bass player who sang, the guitar player (my friends friend) and a harmonica player (the guitar players brother). I auditioned for them and when they found out I could sing better than the bass player while also playing drum, they hired me instantly.
Rehearsals began for the play and the band. My character's name was Doodad and that is all they ever called me. they almost never referred to me as Scott.
They also had a celebrity connection. One of the guys they grew up with in Texas was Lou Diamond Philips form La bamba and Young Guns fame. He helped produce the play. The band actually rehearsed in his house that he had just purchased in the Hollywood hills off Outpost road for himself and his wife. While renovations where going on, only Lou lived there and we had the run of the place. We used to practice, then take a break and play poker in the game room with Lou and Brandon Lee, Bruce Lee's son and also a friend of the guys.
I remember one night during a break in practicing, Lou got a call on his cell phone. Keep in mind, this was the early 90's and cell phones were still brand new. he had one of the fancy Motorola flip phones that were popular with the young, rich and famous. He answers the phone and immediately gestures for us to be quiet. It was Robert Deniro on the phone, calling from his car! He and Lou Diamond were in talks about opening a restaurant together. We were all star struck as Deniro had just done "the Untouchables" and was going strong.
As we listened to the one sided conversation, we were like little kids trying to get Lou to laugh and pushing each other. All of a sudden, Lou starts saying what would become the cell phone mantra for years to come:
"Hello? hello? Can you hear me now? Helloooo?" The call had dropped. We just pictured Deniro in his car driving down Santa Monica blvd going, (in my best Deniro as Capone impression) Hello? Hello? Mother fucker! I want that operator dead! I want her family dead! Hello?"
There was something else going on at this time that I was not aware of until much later. By the way, the play had opened and closed the same night. It was a really bad play. But the band turned out to be really good so we stayed together. We even kept the name of the band from the play. We were called "the Pipefitters". Great blues name, huh? turns out, all the guys were plumber helpers in Texas at one time and thats what helpers were called there.
During the time we were practicing in Lou's house, we found out he had a connection to a pretty famous musician. His wife, Julie was the video director for Melissa Ethridge. She was a favorite of mine, even though I was not a lesbian (at the time). She had a powerful but beautiful voice and a presence that just grabbed you. She also lived up the street from Lou's new house. One night she came over and jammed with the band. We knew this was a special event and set up a video camera to record it. I still have that tape. We did several blues tunes with me on drums and her singing. Then we duetted on a Three Dog Night song that turned out to be a favorite of us both. It was a song called, "Never been to Spain". The vocals start out in the lower range and shoot up to the higher ranges as it progressed. It was a perfect song for our 2 vocals. It was probably the highlight of my musical life. the song has no real ending and it seemed like neither of us wanted to stop. We finally had to but on the tape you can hear her scream, "That song has no end!" and laughing.
What none of us in the band knew then but found out later, was that Lou's wife Julie was having an affair with Melissa and ended up leaving Lou for her. They "married" and had 2 kids through an anonymous sperm donor. It was later rumored to have been David Crosby's stuff of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.
The band was getting better and better so I worked hard to get us gigs around town. The boys wanted to do a small tour of Texas so we loaded up my van and I drove all the way there and back. At the time, I was pushing 500 lbs and struggled with loading and unloading the drums. I always had to have help from the other guys. I found out later that they resented me for that. Also turns out that they had been planning on firing me after we got back from Texas. I was oblivious to all this. We played in Austin and Dallas and had a fun time. At the end of the last gig I started getting a pain in my right wrist. I found out weeks later that I was getting the onset of Carpel tunnel syndrome. I ended up getting a cortisone shot directly into my wrist. It was the most physical pain I had ever experienced (up to that point) but a much worse pain was coming down the pike.
Days after we returned from Texas, the guitar player who had first hired me came into my apartment that I shared with his brother the blues harp player. He informed me that I was out of the band. I asked him why, not believing my ears. he told me point blank, "You are just too heavy and it is affecting all of us."
I said the following and this is what my memoirs or book or whatever I end up doing will be called. I asked him, "Are you telling me I'm too fat to play the Blues?"
That sums up my life, gang. It will be on my headstone when I die. Here lies Scott...too fat to play the blues.
I was devastated when this happened. But it did give me a great title for my book.
In the late 80's, early 90's I was still searching for the one area in which I would make my mark. Although I had some success with stand up comedy and improv acting, I still felt drawn to my real passion...male modeling. Okay, maybe not that. What I really loved to do more than anything else was music. As far back as I can remember, I loved how music made me feel. My grandmother on my mom's side was one of the first women to graduate the Yale school of music around 1920. She worked her way through college by playing piano in a silent movie theater as the movie was running. When I used to visit her as a child, she would have me sit on the bench with her as she played classical music. My favorite was always Beethoven and to this day, "Moonlight Sonata" will make me tear up. It always reminds me of her and that time that was all my own.
Later in life I learned several instruments including trumpet and baritone horn, which I played in the high school band. But I really loved percussion and started playing drums at about 14 years old. I would set up my drums in the basement and attach red and blue lights to the ceiling beam, pointing down at me. With my stereo behind me, I would blast 70's rock and play along. To my parent's credit, they never once told me to turn it down or stop playing. I really loved them for that. When I moved to Ca. I drove across the country in my Chevy van with all that I owned in the back, including my drum set. After living in Ca for several years, I started playing with a few bands. I was also acting and one day, a friend of mine introduced me to a friend of his. This guy was looking for someone just like me who was an actor and a musician for a special play he was doing. Seems the play was written by another friend of his from Texas, where they had all grown up together. the play was about a blues guitarist in Texas who's 8 month pregnant wife is forcing him to give up his dream of music to join the real world by getting a job. He promises he will but finds out an A & R guy from a record label will be coming to his last show. He feels this could be his big break. He has a band playing with him and in the play, the band actually needs to perform several numbers. This is where I come in.
They needed a drummer who could also act. They already had a bass player who sang, the guitar player (my friends friend) and a harmonica player (the guitar players brother). I auditioned for them and when they found out I could sing better than the bass player while also playing drum, they hired me instantly.
Rehearsals began for the play and the band. My character's name was Doodad and that is all they ever called me. they almost never referred to me as Scott.
They also had a celebrity connection. One of the guys they grew up with in Texas was Lou Diamond Philips form La bamba and Young Guns fame. He helped produce the play. The band actually rehearsed in his house that he had just purchased in the Hollywood hills off Outpost road for himself and his wife. While renovations where going on, only Lou lived there and we had the run of the place. We used to practice, then take a break and play poker in the game room with Lou and Brandon Lee, Bruce Lee's son and also a friend of the guys.
I remember one night during a break in practicing, Lou got a call on his cell phone. Keep in mind, this was the early 90's and cell phones were still brand new. he had one of the fancy Motorola flip phones that were popular with the young, rich and famous. He answers the phone and immediately gestures for us to be quiet. It was Robert Deniro on the phone, calling from his car! He and Lou Diamond were in talks about opening a restaurant together. We were all star struck as Deniro had just done "the Untouchables" and was going strong.
As we listened to the one sided conversation, we were like little kids trying to get Lou to laugh and pushing each other. All of a sudden, Lou starts saying what would become the cell phone mantra for years to come:
"Hello? hello? Can you hear me now? Helloooo?" The call had dropped. We just pictured Deniro in his car driving down Santa Monica blvd going, (in my best Deniro as Capone impression) Hello? Hello? Mother fucker! I want that operator dead! I want her family dead! Hello?"
There was something else going on at this time that I was not aware of until much later. By the way, the play had opened and closed the same night. It was a really bad play. But the band turned out to be really good so we stayed together. We even kept the name of the band from the play. We were called "the Pipefitters". Great blues name, huh? turns out, all the guys were plumber helpers in Texas at one time and thats what helpers were called there.
During the time we were practicing in Lou's house, we found out he had a connection to a pretty famous musician. His wife, Julie was the video director for Melissa Ethridge. She was a favorite of mine, even though I was not a lesbian (at the time). She had a powerful but beautiful voice and a presence that just grabbed you. She also lived up the street from Lou's new house. One night she came over and jammed with the band. We knew this was a special event and set up a video camera to record it. I still have that tape. We did several blues tunes with me on drums and her singing. Then we duetted on a Three Dog Night song that turned out to be a favorite of us both. It was a song called, "Never been to Spain". The vocals start out in the lower range and shoot up to the higher ranges as it progressed. It was a perfect song for our 2 vocals. It was probably the highlight of my musical life. the song has no real ending and it seemed like neither of us wanted to stop. We finally had to but on the tape you can hear her scream, "That song has no end!" and laughing.
What none of us in the band knew then but found out later, was that Lou's wife Julie was having an affair with Melissa and ended up leaving Lou for her. They "married" and had 2 kids through an anonymous sperm donor. It was later rumored to have been David Crosby's stuff of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.
The band was getting better and better so I worked hard to get us gigs around town. The boys wanted to do a small tour of Texas so we loaded up my van and I drove all the way there and back. At the time, I was pushing 500 lbs and struggled with loading and unloading the drums. I always had to have help from the other guys. I found out later that they resented me for that. Also turns out that they had been planning on firing me after we got back from Texas. I was oblivious to all this. We played in Austin and Dallas and had a fun time. At the end of the last gig I started getting a pain in my right wrist. I found out weeks later that I was getting the onset of Carpel tunnel syndrome. I ended up getting a cortisone shot directly into my wrist. It was the most physical pain I had ever experienced (up to that point) but a much worse pain was coming down the pike.
Days after we returned from Texas, the guitar player who had first hired me came into my apartment that I shared with his brother the blues harp player. He informed me that I was out of the band. I asked him why, not believing my ears. he told me point blank, "You are just too heavy and it is affecting all of us."
I said the following and this is what my memoirs or book or whatever I end up doing will be called. I asked him, "Are you telling me I'm too fat to play the Blues?"
That sums up my life, gang. It will be on my headstone when I die. Here lies Scott...too fat to play the blues.
I was devastated when this happened. But it did give me a great title for my book.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
I've been trying to do these blogs in kind of a chronological order, but there are times when I may move back and forth in time. Sometimes, I can't remember when certain events took place in my life, partly due to age and partly due to...the FALL. I will be talking about the FALL in later blogs and you will see why I use caps to describe...the FALL. Suffice it to say, the FALL changed my life forever.
But this blog is not about the...you know. It's about my first 15 minutes of fame. Almost everyone has it. That one moment in time where more than just a few people know your name. Or at least they know that they know you from somewhere. I've had several of these moments. My first happened in the early 90's while I was doing stand up on a regular basis. One night, while waiting to go on at the Cabaret a bunch of us were hanging outside when a couple of a guys came up to us and introduced themselves as representatives of the video show "America's funniest people." This was a show hosted by Dave Cooliere that came out soon after "America's funniest Videos" hosted by Bob Sagett but before the completely failed "America's funniest serial killers" hosted by John Stamos that never really made it to air.
They were looking to tape comedians doing anything funny and asked if any of us wanted to try out right then and there. All of us being comedy whores, we jumped at the chance. My bit was what I call a throw away bit where its funny then you move on. In my act I would ask if anyone liked impressions. They usually do so I do the one impression I know, I took a mic stand and raised it to its fullest height, I had it on my left and I would say,. "My impression of the number 10. I would grab the mic stand plop it down next to me and kind of turn myself into a zero next to the one. most people would get the joke. It was ok and got a laugh but I never intended for it to go any further, They taped me doing it that night and I found out later that they added a sound affect of a bouncing ball as I lowered my self to make the O.
A week goes by and I have stopped thinking about it when I get a call from the network. "Is this Mr. Dorfman? "Yes". "Mr Dorfman, your video has been selected as one of the top 3 and could you come in today for the taping." I told him I would and started to get nervous. 1st prize was $10,000! 2nd was $5000 and 3rd was a measly $1500. I show up in the green room where they keep the talent until its time to put us in the audience so we can looked shocked when they announce us. I was there with the other 2 in the contest. a 9 yo skinny kid that did impressions of hulk hogan by jutting out his sharp, porcine shoulder blades and doing various muscle poses. The other guy was someone who did some decent impressions. They announce each of us and show our respective videos. then the audience judges. It should have gone guy impressions first, me second and kid third.
But nooooo. They announce the runner up first and it happened to be the guy impressionist. That left me and the kid as first or third. Problem with these shows is any kid that is up against anyone else automatically has the "awwwww" factor and this was no different. They announced a no talent kid the winner of 10 grand and I got a check for $1500.I threw a little viewing party with most of it and paid a bill or 2. That was the extent of the money. But then weird stuff started happening. The morning after the episode aired I got several calls from people wanting me to do projects for them. One guy asked me if I ever though about Sumo wrestling. Turn out he was just some creep that got off talking to fat guys about wearing a diaper.
But I started to get recognized by people and they were yelling "do the number 10!" I had started my Oregon tour and one night, after I had finished my set 2 attractive young women came running up to me and asked me for my autograph. I was surprised. I knew my act did well but an autograph? Then one of the girls says, "I can't believe I'm meeting the number 10!" I thought the whole thing was strange but I did sign her book "from one 10 to another", Scott. She gave me a big hug and they ran down the hall squealing.
They re-run that show to this day and I still get recognized every once in a while. Its a strange feeling. I wonder if I ever lose enough weight if I could do the number 11? Or I could get a spinal disease and do the #12!
But this blog is not about the...you know. It's about my first 15 minutes of fame. Almost everyone has it. That one moment in time where more than just a few people know your name. Or at least they know that they know you from somewhere. I've had several of these moments. My first happened in the early 90's while I was doing stand up on a regular basis. One night, while waiting to go on at the Cabaret a bunch of us were hanging outside when a couple of a guys came up to us and introduced themselves as representatives of the video show "America's funniest people." This was a show hosted by Dave Cooliere that came out soon after "America's funniest Videos" hosted by Bob Sagett but before the completely failed "America's funniest serial killers" hosted by John Stamos that never really made it to air.
They were looking to tape comedians doing anything funny and asked if any of us wanted to try out right then and there. All of us being comedy whores, we jumped at the chance. My bit was what I call a throw away bit where its funny then you move on. In my act I would ask if anyone liked impressions. They usually do so I do the one impression I know, I took a mic stand and raised it to its fullest height, I had it on my left and I would say,. "My impression of the number 10. I would grab the mic stand plop it down next to me and kind of turn myself into a zero next to the one. most people would get the joke. It was ok and got a laugh but I never intended for it to go any further, They taped me doing it that night and I found out later that they added a sound affect of a bouncing ball as I lowered my self to make the O.
A week goes by and I have stopped thinking about it when I get a call from the network. "Is this Mr. Dorfman? "Yes". "Mr Dorfman, your video has been selected as one of the top 3 and could you come in today for the taping." I told him I would and started to get nervous. 1st prize was $10,000! 2nd was $5000 and 3rd was a measly $1500. I show up in the green room where they keep the talent until its time to put us in the audience so we can looked shocked when they announce us. I was there with the other 2 in the contest. a 9 yo skinny kid that did impressions of hulk hogan by jutting out his sharp, porcine shoulder blades and doing various muscle poses. The other guy was someone who did some decent impressions. They announce each of us and show our respective videos. then the audience judges. It should have gone guy impressions first, me second and kid third.
But nooooo. They announce the runner up first and it happened to be the guy impressionist. That left me and the kid as first or third. Problem with these shows is any kid that is up against anyone else automatically has the "awwwww" factor and this was no different. They announced a no talent kid the winner of 10 grand and I got a check for $1500.I threw a little viewing party with most of it and paid a bill or 2. That was the extent of the money. But then weird stuff started happening. The morning after the episode aired I got several calls from people wanting me to do projects for them. One guy asked me if I ever though about Sumo wrestling. Turn out he was just some creep that got off talking to fat guys about wearing a diaper.
But I started to get recognized by people and they were yelling "do the number 10!" I had started my Oregon tour and one night, after I had finished my set 2 attractive young women came running up to me and asked me for my autograph. I was surprised. I knew my act did well but an autograph? Then one of the girls says, "I can't believe I'm meeting the number 10!" I thought the whole thing was strange but I did sign her book "from one 10 to another", Scott. She gave me a big hug and they ran down the hall squealing.
They re-run that show to this day and I still get recognized every once in a while. Its a strange feeling. I wonder if I ever lose enough weight if I could do the number 11? Or I could get a spinal disease and do the #12!
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
The city continued
I had moved to Ca. to pursue a career in the entertainment field. I was an actor, musician, comedian and dabbled in magic. Surely, something would take off. I know, I know...don't call you Shirley.
Unfortunately, nothing ever really hit big for me. Oh, don't get me wrong. I was able to make a living using my entertainment skills I had so keenly developed to compensate for my obesity. Just not quite in the way I wanted.
I started off as many people do, signing up with the "extra" or what many called "background talent" agencies.
when people would ask me on a set if I was an extra, I would reply, "No, I'm an extra large." Fortunately, I was also a drummer and could do my own rim shots. Badum bump!
I would do extra work in the day which paid like $50-$80, depending how long you were on set. At night, I would hit the open mic nights at the various comedy clubs. One night at the Comedy store, one night at the Improv, another at the Laugh Factory. One place that I worked a lot was called the LA Cabaret, a local joint in the Valley that up and coming comics would work until they got actual paying gigs over the hill at the Store and Improv. I was starting at the same time as Carlos Mencia, Tommy Davidson and many others that you would know if you saw them. We were all just beginning, really. Unfortunately, it was just before the comedy bubble had sprung a leak. Yes, there was a comedy bubble just like there was a dot com bubble and a housing bubble.
in the mid eighties, comedy was blowing up. You came to Los Angeles and went up twice at an open mic before you got a shot at the tonight show and your own sitcom. Jerry Seinfeld, Ray Milano, Tim Allen, Ellen Degeneres, all made it huge just before I got there. Comedy clubs were popping up all over the country and comics could book all kinds of tours for themselves. I'll tell you about the northwestern tour I did a little later.
The problem became, all these comedy clubs started popping up all over the country, trying to cash in on the latest trend. this created a need to fill time for the clubs and they started hiring anyone that was once told they were funny in high school. Everyone decided to become a comic and it got to the point where they would be willing to work for free just for stage time. this created a pay for play situation where you could get on stage if you brought people with you. Hacks (bad comics who thought just saying "fuck" was funny enough and you didn't actually need a joke with it) where overtaking the industry. Everyone thought they were the next Eddie Murphy or Robin Williams. They weren't. It was getting harder and harder to work as a stand up.
I started making friends with some of the other comics and we would perform at a club like LA Caberet and then go down the street to Jerry's famous deli to hang out. The last guy would go on about 1:30 in the morning so we didn't hit the deli until 2am. We would stay there for hours, critiquing each other's act and brainstorming new material. It was a great time for me as I was able to be creative on the spur of the moment, which is what I do best. my written material was funny but I found I was always better at improvising off the top of my head. I fed off the conversation as much as I did the food I was eating. And speaking of that, my favorite order was the lox and bagel platter and an extra bagel. This was a large plate with a bagel cut and each half topped with cream cheese, lox and tomato. The extra bagel was to make it into 2 sandwiches. I would wash down this healthy dish with a large chocolate milk (I was a real partier in those days, slamming C milk and such. Don't even get me started on Yoohoo. The stories I could tell...).
So, I'm eating a 2000-3000 calorie meal at 3 in the morning and then going to bed and doing this 2-3 times a week. Why was I still gaining weight? It was a conundrum!
The problem became, all these comedy clubs started popping up all over the country, trying to cash in on the latest trend. this created a need to fill time for the clubs and they started hiring anyone that was once told they were funny in high school. Everyone decided to become a comic and it got to the point where they would be willing to work for free just for stage time. this created a pay for play situation where you could get on stage if you brought people with you. Hacks (bad comics who thought just saying "fuck" was funny enough and you didn't actually need a joke with it) where overtaking the industry. Everyone thought they were the next Eddie Murphy or Robin Williams. They weren't. It was getting harder and harder to work as a stand up.
I started making friends with some of the other comics and we would perform at a club like LA Caberet and then go down the street to Jerry's famous deli to hang out. The last guy would go on about 1:30 in the morning so we didn't hit the deli until 2am. We would stay there for hours, critiquing each other's act and brainstorming new material. It was a great time for me as I was able to be creative on the spur of the moment, which is what I do best. my written material was funny but I found I was always better at improvising off the top of my head. I fed off the conversation as much as I did the food I was eating. And speaking of that, my favorite order was the lox and bagel platter and an extra bagel. This was a large plate with a bagel cut and each half topped with cream cheese, lox and tomato. The extra bagel was to make it into 2 sandwiches. I would wash down this healthy dish with a large chocolate milk (I was a real partier in those days, slamming C milk and such. Don't even get me started on Yoohoo. The stories I could tell...).
So, I'm eating a 2000-3000 calorie meal at 3 in the morning and then going to bed and doing this 2-3 times a week. Why was I still gaining weight? It was a conundrum!
Monday, June 7, 2010
Sexless and the city 2
My new life had begun. I was living on my own, 3000 miles from the only place I had ever called home. I had never lived anywhere else but Connecticut and so I was not used to the alien ways of what the natives there called "Cali". I soon learned it was not going to be easy to adapt. For example, they had freeways that interconnected with each other and going every which way. I will admit, I was a little intimidated by the system. I was living in what was known as "the Valley" (as in, "like, ohmigod, gag me with a spoon"). It was actually pretty centrally located. Just over the hill from Hollywood and minutes from the world famous downtown Burbank. I would find out later that for most people who had lived in Southern Ca awhile, the "hill" that divided the Valley from the city might as well been the great wall of China. There were snobs on both sides that regarded the other as "less than" and would never find themselves in the other's territory except for business.
Here is an example of how bad it was for me driving. I had a job interview in Culver city, which was about 30 mins away from where I lived... by freeway. But I didn't want to risk that concrete and metal monster called "the 405", so I looked on a map to see how far it was by surface streets. Let's see...heres me and here is Culver city and there is a main street that goes all the way there called Sepulveda blvd. Perfect! It shouldn't take me long at all! I started at 100 Sepulveda and needed to get to 8400 Sepulveda. Shouldn't be too hard. I started down the street whistling a happy tune, content in the knowledge that I had beaten the system and would not have to face the scary, scary freeway. I followed the numbered addresses as they went up....400...700...900. I was getting close, I could feel it! 1500...2600...5400....almost there. 6000...6800.... 200. Wait. 200? What the fuck? what happened to 6800? The street was starting over? Nooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Godammit! I'm going to be so late. 800....3200...........traffic stops. just stops. It goes from 3 lanes to one and bumper to bumper. Right near a freeway entrance. I can see the cars on the freeway flying by, as if to say, "Dorfman, you're a pussy!" Actually, I think someone really did yell that out as they drove by. Not sure how they knew my name but, whatever. An hour and a half later I get to the job interview. It ended up being a bullshit sales job for your very own car detailing business. I told the guy who interviewed me the story about the trip down. He laughed and said, "Wow, Dorfman, you're a pussy!" He still gave me the job. Total commission gig. I lasted 3 whole weeks there. Needless to say, I took the freeway back home from the interview.
Here is an example of how bad it was for me driving. I had a job interview in Culver city, which was about 30 mins away from where I lived... by freeway. But I didn't want to risk that concrete and metal monster called "the 405", so I looked on a map to see how far it was by surface streets. Let's see...heres me and here is Culver city and there is a main street that goes all the way there called Sepulveda blvd. Perfect! It shouldn't take me long at all! I started at 100 Sepulveda and needed to get to 8400 Sepulveda. Shouldn't be too hard. I started down the street whistling a happy tune, content in the knowledge that I had beaten the system and would not have to face the scary, scary freeway. I followed the numbered addresses as they went up....400...700...900. I was getting close, I could feel it! 1500...2600...5400....almost there. 6000...6800.... 200. Wait. 200? What the fuck? what happened to 6800? The street was starting over? Nooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Godammit! I'm going to be so late. 800....3200...........traffic stops. just stops. It goes from 3 lanes to one and bumper to bumper. Right near a freeway entrance. I can see the cars on the freeway flying by, as if to say, "Dorfman, you're a pussy!" Actually, I think someone really did yell that out as they drove by. Not sure how they knew my name but, whatever. An hour and a half later I get to the job interview. It ended up being a bullshit sales job for your very own car detailing business. I told the guy who interviewed me the story about the trip down. He laughed and said, "Wow, Dorfman, you're a pussy!" He still gave me the job. Total commission gig. I lasted 3 whole weeks there. Needless to say, I took the freeway back home from the interview.
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