Birthday Wishes

Today is my birthday! Please, hold your applause. I can't hear it. What I'd like to do is help you out. I'm willing to bet that you've had a couple of birthdays in your time, too. $50, take it or leave it. This isn't the helping you part. Sorry, I'm a gambler. Anyway, here is my help. I would like to break down the different birthday wishes that one receives on the ever-consuming app of Facebook.

Remember Facebook? You got here from there. This is a breakdown of your (and my) friends' wishes and what they really mean:

Happy Birthday - This is the one that I call plain and simple. It says "Hey, I know you, and I like you just fine." It's comforting.

Happy Birthday! - Ah, here we go. An exclamation point is key in a good birthday message. The more exclamation points that there are, the more excited you are to see one another and wish them a Happy Birthday. But don't overdo it. This one conveys that "You and I are close, and we always have a time when we see each other."

Happy Birthday!!!!!!!! - This one overdoes it. It might as well say "I was high and saw your name on Facebook. Lol." Totally disrespectful.

happy birthday - This one is getting into the business of becoming informal. It says "Listen, Facebook told me that you were born today, but I wouldn't have cared otherwise." 

Happy Happy Birthday! - As if doubling down on the word happy makes the day better, this person wants nothing but the best for you and to let you know that, at 12:01 A.M., they are still up, always fun, and he first one to post on your timeline. "We still down to rent a party limo?" It screams.

Happy Birthday! Hope you had a good day! - A desperate cry for attention, this person wants to make it publicly known that they are wishing you a happy birthday, as they try to reconnect with you after not speaking to you for four years. It basically reads as "Remember high school or college?" It's only a little pathetic.

Happy bday - I mean, why would you even? Is there a worse, less thought out message than this? If there is, I don't want to read it. This should always be followed by "How do we know each other?"

Hope all of this helps when you have a birthday. If not, I don't know what to say. I'm trying here. Let me know how it goes.

Pop Quiz!

If you're like me, you've been inspecting the cultural zeitgeist with a fine tooth comb. You're not like me? That's a shame. Well, what you may have uncovered is that there is a new trend out there. A bunch of new apps have hit the market, all of which claim the same thing: that you can win money by answering trivia questions. The most famous of these games is, you guessed it, HQ.

If you don't know what HQ is, it's an app that lets you win real, free money for answering multiple choice questions twice a day during the week and once a day during the weekend. It's like Who Wants to be a Millionaire, if you had to play Who Wants to be a Millionaire about 100,000 times to become a millionaire. What happens is this: you answer a possible 12 questions, of increasing difficulty, and each player gets locked out if/when they are wrong. So you could start with 1,100,000 players and end up with 147. Then, those 147 people who got all 12 questions right each split the top prize: $2,500. So, they each walk away with a whopping $17.01. It's like a reverse $25,000 Pyramid scheme.

The game is hosted by two or three New York based comedians and comediennes. They each read a teleprompter and deliver the worst (best?) HQ inspired and current events influenced puns. All in all, the game lasts about 15 minutes and uses upwards of 60 MB of data. So I would advise you find WiFi if you don't have unlimited data. My family plan doesn't have unlimited data, and I work for the government. The WiFi was the first thing to go in the shutdown, followed by all non-essential personnel.

If you are thinking of signing up, why not help me by doing so? Enter this code at the start: Chuckchuckgoose3. That's my username, and it lets them know that I sent ya! Think of it as a way to repay me for all of the wonderful content you've enjoyed on here, since I don't have a way to monetize this blog yet. But, maybe, if I win HQ like 98,405 times, I won't need your help. Ahh, that's the dream. Anyway, happy quizzing! Let me know if you win anything, and we can further spilt your $8.05.

The Week of Me

Whoops! I seem to have skipped a week. Sorry about that. I had to take care of a family emergency. Are we all ok? Not right now, but in time, yes, we will be. However, as the terminator prophesized about himself, I'm back! No more hasta-ing la vista, for me. No sir! Or should I say No madam! #TimesUp 

I guess what I want to talk about this week is... drumroll please... ME! (I'm a bit narcissistic, look it up in a much earlier post on here) Now, I know what you're asking? "Charlie, what makes this week different from every other week, all of which you refer to as "the week of Me?" Glad you asked in thought.  I have three shows this week, the first one being tonight. I'm in two shows that you'll see me in and one that you won't. How can I be in a show that you won't see me in? I wrote for it. Much like any boats with holes in the bottoms, I'll plug them below.

Why do I tell you all this? To rub it in your faces that I'm doing stuff? Nope. I share this because it's not every day that I get to be a part of three shows in one week. I enjoy being busy. It won't last forever at I trying to stay in the moment so that I can enjoy it. We forgot how fragile life is sometimes, always onto that "next" thing. I'm here to ask why don't you make like Netflix... and chill? We can't control the future and we can't change the past. So that lends to us only being able to live in the moment. (Side note: I have an application into the housing lottery for a midtown apartment called the Moment. If I get that, then I could actually live in the moment in the Moment. We'll have to wait and see.

Speaking of seeing, I hope to see you at a few shows this week, all of which or none of which could be mine. Doesn't matter. I know I'll be at my shows, and that's about all I need right now. As promised, here they are below. Extra incentive: I hear I'm going to be paying everyone who comes to each one. What? Wow, gettied paid with the experience of good theater, a currency more valuable that actual money. I'm jealous of you now! (Just kidding, I'm not.)

Shows: 

Tuesday: https://www.facebook.com/events/327997734381686??ti=ia

Friday: https://www.facebook.com/events/1566332243454859??ti=ia

Sunday: https://www.facebook.com/events/137705333662639??ti=ia

Another Year and We're Still Here

Happy New Years!!!  If you haven't already been made aware, today is the day when we turn the clocks and calendars forward. So stop writing 2017 on your checks, and also stop using checks. It's 2018. 

My, how a year has come and gone. 2017 was the only year on record that simultaneously flew by and crawled by. 2017 was more of a train wreck than 2015, the year the movie Trainwreck actually came out. But all in all, we can learn a bunch from the recent past and move on to bigger, brighter dumpster fires of a years. You know me, always looking at the positives.

It's a new year, folks, and with that comes my resolutions. Here they are, in all their shining glory: 

1. Start drinking 1% milk (it was a relationship compromise, and by compromise I mean I'm whipped, like heavy cream).

2.  Have a recurring sketch show at a New York Comedy theater, with new sketches every time. 

3. Craft a solid 10-15 minute set of stand up. 

4. Perform more with my girlfriend (a duo called Shewitt).

5. Finish a spec script of a TV show and an original show.

6. Develop a late night television packet (close, but close only counts in government work).

7. Write a one act play.

8. Release a book of the posts on here.

9. Track my spending on a very strict level, like down to the penny, and plan financially.

10. Begin regular classes doing pilates, tai chi, or yoga.

11. Eat at more fancy restaurants and sample the food that NYC has to offer. 

12. Get a new job. (It's complicated.)

13. Write and perform a solo show. 

These are the leftovers from last year plus a few new ones sprinkled in. I am going to track my money to see where it goes this year. I need get more financially stable in 2018. I hope to build my savings up and get out of debt. Besides that my creative ideas are hopefully ambitious and doable. Gotta strive to survive, as I just made up.

Anyway, nurse that hangover today and get ready for tomorrow. We are tackling 2018 like a defensive tight end. And yes, we will give it a concussion and permanent brain damage, cause that's just how you play the game.  Ready, set, hike!

We Can Say Merry New Year's Now!

Did you hear? We can say whatever we want now! Merry Christmas is back, baby (Jesus)! I wasn't aware of it's leaving, but it's Irish Catholic goodbye was apparently well received.

A small note about the past two weeks. I mistakenly thought that my one night of Hanukkah posting could last for 8 whole days. Doh! My bad. It worked for the Jews once and I assumed it would again. You know what they say when you assume; you're racist.

Also, Merry Christmas!! Forgot to say that on Monday, as it was Christmas. Did you get good gifts? Does that matter to you? I found it relaxing to spend some time at "home." You know, someone just told me that home is wherever you are with other people, and I like that definition. It captures the Friedmans, as they say. Ahh, the Friedmans.

Anyway, let's move onto those New Year's Resolutions. I'll post next week about my official ones for 2018. But let's take a quick look back at my 2017 ones, which we've never revisited.

1. Stop breaking out into Miley Cyrus songs (check)

2.  Have a recurring sketch show at a New York Comedy theater, with new sketches every time. (nope)

3. Craft a solid 10-15 minute set of stand up. (not yet)

4. Perform regularly with 1 or more improv teams. (can't say that I do)

5. Write a few episodes of a television show.  (definitely not)

6. Develop a late night television packet. (close, but close only counts in government work)

7. Write a play. (still looking for a good pen)

8. Release a book. (maybe next year)

9. Attend the ever popular play 'Hamilton.' (I did not throw away my shot!)

10. Begin regular classes doing pilates, tai chi, or yoga. (A recent opportunity has presented itself, but no)

11. Join a bowling league.  (Haven't pinned this one down yet.)

12. Get a new job. (It's complicated.)

Well, I can say with great certainty that we have some stuff to work on in 2018. I mean, I need to get down to business. It'll happen. You'll see. Just you wait....

Also, before I forget, I was on a podcast. It's a good talk and I had fun. We gabbed about late night, of which I know nothing. See you in 2018. I'm riding this dumpster fire of year into the sunset. 

http://dhapshow.com/episode-558-charlie-shulman/

I Think Santa is Jewish

I think Santa is Jewish. Oh, come on, we all know Santa is Jewish. He's one big furry black hat away from saying a blessing before eating all of those cookies. That's why milk is such a treat for him. He doesn't have it with dinner. Also, that beard. Are you kidding me? I know Jewish men who would kill for a white beard like that. He'd be the talk of the kibbutz with that beard. He's already the talk of the shtetl where the factory is. Plus, he owns a factory where tiny men and women work for him, making toys. I don't know why but that sounds Jewish to me. A house with that many little people, a.k.a. children. It's right there! You've always got a minion with that many guys and gals. And Mrs. Claus takes care of everyone! Hello?? That's every Jewish mother. Have you had...? Do you need...? Can I get you a spoonful of honey? It all makes sense.

You know, it's weird. Jews don't believe in Santa or Satan. That's like, poetic, no? I think it is. Like the letters are mixed up, but they spell the same word. Coincidence? I think not.

Now, the Grinch is definitely Jewish. That hairy and furry of a guy? Who hates Christmas that much? I'll tell you Cindy-Lou-Who, the Grinch! (I never could figure that out: is it Cindy-Loo in a playful way, or is it Cindy-Lou, like she has a male middle name, effectively being the girl named Lou instead of a boy named sue for kids my age?) It's gotta be, it only makes sense.

Sorry for rambling, but then again, you'd be rambling too, if you discovered a revelation like this. I'm going straight to the failing NY Times. This is just the story they need to save the paper. Gotta go! On Q train! On B train! On Comet! On Blitzen! On Dasher! On Prancer! On Donner! I'm schvitzen!

In the Market for a Holiday

It's that magical time of the year, when early December isn't winter but it might as well be. Also, outdoor holiday markets are hot! (I mean, they are cold because they are outside, but they are hot, in the metaphorical sense.) Now, I love a good holiday market. One can never have too many chatchkies. Unless you're me, in which case you can have too many chatchkies. But it's fine because I put most of them on my shelves and I leave the rest under the windows like Kevin McAllister in home alone, to deter any bad guys from climbing up to the sixth floor and breaking into the apartment (wait, maybe I'm a hoarder?!) It stands to reason that I've been keeping the apartment burglar free since I moved ALL of my stuff in. Take that, people who call me a hoarder.

Anyway, what I want to talk about is holiday markets. I went to a holiday craft market in New Jersey this past weekend, in a little town called Hope. Now, if you ask me, I would tell you there is no hope in New Jersey (because New Jersey is terrible). So don't ask me because that's wrong. It's a one horse town (I saw three horses but please let me use that expression!!) and is maybe as big as Bryant Park. Like the whole town is that big. So it was nice to get away from the city for a few days and escape to the land of New Jersey (I bet that's never been said before because New Jersey is terrible.) Still, we had fun. I spent money. But I got most of my Chrstmas/Hanukkah shopping done, so now I just have to figure out what to get everyone else (ba dum! tisss!!).

I can barely control my genuine excitementat holiday markets, which for me, looks like a real internal battle between my normal sullen demeanor and a smile. It almost looks like I'm having a stroke. But, I'm ok. I'll learn to harness it this Christmas. I'm new to the whole celebrating Christmas thing. After all, I'm very Jewish. Like I don't leave cookies out for Santa. I leave bagels and schmear. As if to say, "hey, from one Jew to another, Merry Christmas." (Oh, come on, we all know Santa is Jewish. Next time...)

Left Over Right Down

Much like a weekly hour slot on HBO, we're all drowning in leftovers. Please remember to swallow your leftover food and leftover rage from fighting with your family, in-laws, neighbors, inner demons, etc. Keep. That. Sh#$. Down. (See what I did there? I even censored my censorship. Now That's What I Call Repression, Volume 2!) The best practice is to go home, say hello, grab a few more childhood things that you don't need, and leave quickly, hopefully in the dead of night, with a turkey leg and suitcase full of crap. I will not go light meat into the night! The night is darkest before the meat, as they say. 

What did you buy today? ANSWER ME!!! (Sorry, that's some leftover rage that trickled out of my inner stronghold, or as my therapist calls it, the reason I'm here.) I hope you didn't spend to much between Black Friday and Cyber Monday. Spending too much is the leading cause of not having a lot of money, scientists say. I would save the money that you have leftover. You never know when those leftovers will become worth something someday.

As I write this, I'm reminded of something that won't be leftover after this week: anything of value in the space that used to be occupied by the UCB, underneath a Gristedes Market on 8th Avenue. In fitting UCB style, there are farewell shows being produced to the space, as if the theater is dying. The physical theater, yes, won't be around anymore. The actual theater company will, in fact, continue on, from a location in Hell's Kitchen. From a Gristedes kitchen to Hell's Kitchen, lots of memories have been made and lots more will be forged soon. I can't wait. But seriously, cut it out with acting as if the theater is dying. It's not dying, it's doing what every 20 year old theater major should eventually do: moving out of its parent's basement. 

What this all boils right down to is this; sometimes, we need the leftover stuff. It gets us through to the next thing, while being able to rely on the help of previous things. Is this vague enough for you? Can I go now? Jeez, anyway, I'm gonna go, but this was fun. I have to go see if my Cyber Monday toys are here yet. Mailman, where you at?

Spacey-ed Out

Can you even believe that I went from a huge 6th anniversary blowout to missing a Monday? That's irrefutable and irrevocable. Irregardless, the time is at hand so let me grasp it with all of my fingers. I need to say my feelings, my thoughts, my prayers, my beliefs, MY DREAMS! And I need to say them now. Time is of the essence (magazine) people (magazine). Wake Up Sheeple!

I'm actually riding a pretty strong high right now. (No, I'm not on weed, although I do have someone's number for that, I think.) No, I did something weird today. I came out as a comedian at work. I totally Spacey-ed the situation, told everyone that more importantly than touching people as a civil engineer, I'm also touching people as a comedian. #bestself I totally used it as an excuse for my previous actions of missing hangouts after work, being a self introspective guy, and acting like I didn't need these people. Classic distraction effort! But I was wrong. I do need them. I need them a lot.

 [sarcasm] But again, to reiterate, I definitely have to insensitively relate this to the very real struggle of people aiming to feel comfortable in their own bodies, against fear or judgment, resentment, humiliation, and being loved. I do. I have to do this. Comedy dictates that I blow this minuscule detail of my life that I'd been hiding from a few people way out of proportion and act like I'm making great strides in the civil rights movement. If only I didn't have to do this. But of course, I was a comedian the whole time, just like every male actor in show business was a pervert the whole time. These are our albatrosses. [sarcasm]

Back to my incessant need to be liked. It's really hard to get people to come to a 10:00 PM Triple Crown show, even if "Matt Demon" is doing a killer Harold on stage. But do you understand what I have here? It's an audience (more than two people and my mom) who are familiar with me and support me from the start. That's the goal of any comedian on stage. To immediately walk out and have the audience be on board with them as people and performers. If you don't bring an audience, you can still win them over the old fashioned way: confidence, experience, and paying them to be there.

None of these newly educated coworkers will come to anything that I do. "Wait, what Charlie?" Listen, I invite hundreds of people to shows all of the time and 0-5 people show up. Statistically, it's unlikely that any of these 10+ people will go somewhere to see me. I also don't want them to get burnt out on live comedy performance, because yes, that's a thing. You can get burnt out on live performance, if you go to a Michael Jackson or Richard Pryor show or something. And if they have to buy a ticket? Please, I know what they each make every year. They can't afford it!

All in all, I had been not showing my true self at work. We put up walls because we don't want to be hurt or we think that by covering up we maintain a mysterious person. It's impossible to connect with a mystery person though, that's why they reveal the people at the end of the dating game. So, I don't even know if I'm real anymore. What if I'm just an extension of your internet reality. Oh Shit! What if I've been Keyser Soze the whole time!!!!!!

Happy Thanksgiving folks!  Remember to pardon your Uncle and not to talk politics with your Turkey.  I'll of course be back next Monday, cyber or otherwise, to regal you of leftovers lost and turkeys gained. I didn't do a big Thanksgiving post this year because times are tough these days and we should poke fun at the more important stuff. Eat some turkey and sleep. Watch the parade. It'll be worth it. Enough of this gobbledegook. Let's eat!

The Candy/Iron Anniversary a.k.a. Mo' Shavings November

Michael Jackson's This is It and NBC's This is Us. We've done it. We've made it to the 6 year anniversary of me starting this blog. Well, I've made it and you've just sort of ridden my coat tails to this mile marker. No worries, my coat tails are long and numerous (that's what she said).

I didn't exactly know what I was going to do for this anniversary, but then, after perusing Hallmark.com late at night and spending $20 on 3 cards and some chocolate mints for my pillow, I figured it out. Anniversary #6 has typically been the candy/iron anniversary. I said "How fitting!!" This comes just days after Halloween, and also that one time when I thought about going back to the gym. I love it when the universe and I align. So I bought a mint or two (Hallmark is expensive) and here we are.

But I think, in all honesty, what I'd like to talk about this week, on this 6th year reunion, is something a bit different. I could drone on and on about my goals or my finances or my cancer (plays laugh track sound), but I'm all about fresh starts (and Fresh Air, I just started listening to NPR in the mornings). And what a better way to get a fresh start than taking a few, seemingly unrelated things, and shoving them together with glue until you can hang a shoe somewhere. Because the 6th year anniversary is not just the candy/iron anniversary (side note: if I ever wrestled, my name would be the Iron Candy), it's also the wood anniversary.

I have wood (that's what she said). No, I mean, like, I collect wood. Not big two by fours or anything, but yes, like small slabs and dowels. I'm under the delusion that one day I will build something out of all of these small pieces of wood. You can ask anybody that knows me whether or not I have a wood collection, especially the termites that think I'm a god. Everyone will agree. Because yes, I am that guy who, when he passes by wood lying scrapped out on the street, pauses for a moment and thinks "would it fit in the apartment, and by that I mean the plastic bin where all of my wood is?" I think it just might.

Now, I don't collect wood like some lumberjack hobo (By the way, my improv team Lumberjack Hobo is doing three consecutive shows tomorrow at the Triple Crown from 7-9pm. Come on out! You wooden want to miss it!) I have a plan for all of this wood, which is basically a couple dowel rods and the bases of used mousetraps.

I'm planning to make a shoe rack first, because we ordered one and never got it. One night in bed, I realized that I had everything already and said "Babe, I can make it. I have wood," but, to be fair, I say that every night in the bedroom. Second, I'd like to make some sort of night stand or table. We have an IKEA one that we stole from our other roommate, but hey, what about one made with my bare hands, huh? Also, I don't need no instructions, IKEA. Take your Flomso table and scram!

A third idea that I have is to make a bunch of holders for things that I already have, like my decks of cards or portable charger. I've already made some zen gardens. Those are fun to make because I can craft a small rake out of basically anything and it makes me feel like I'm at the beach. I've also collected wood from the beach.

So, things are going well 6 years later. I'm crafty with my hands and that's something. Also, I'm still working on that book of these blog posts. You would read a coffee table book of these posts, right? I see people get it printed all of the time, so how hard can it be? The holidays are upon us and I'm stoked. I'm feeling good about this year. Big things are on the horizon. Maybe I'll sell some wooden furniture on here too. I have a ton of popsicle sticks to get rid of.

Happy Anniversary and please like and share this. If you're just starting to read this blog now, there is no better time. It's raw, it's me, and the future looks like an uncut slab of thin plywood: grainy as hell.