One of my favorite methods of joking around is to take an unusual premise and stretch it until it has gone beyond all reason or logic and into the realm of the sublimely insane.

My old friend Chris Brenna and I used to have a really strange joke that we would do that exemplified this principle. We’d be hanging out in my basement, and my brother had a little crappy handheld video game that used to sit around down there. It was a volleyball game called Kings of the Beach.

For some reason, we would regularly play-act a slow-boiling domestic dispute triggered by Kings of the Beach. I would be playing the game, and it would go something like this:

Chris: “Hey Pete, do you want to go upstairs?”
Me: *silence, concentrating on the game*
Chris: “I was thinking maybe we could go on a walk or something?”
Me: “uhhh……hold on a minute…”
Chris: “Can you set that game down for a moment?”
Me: “I’m playing Kings of the Beach here, Chris.”
Chris: “I can see that you’re playing Kings of the Beach, but can you set it down for a second and look at me?”
Me: “I’m almost done.”
Chris: “We never do anything fun anymore! You’re always playing Kings of the Beach!”
Me: “Look! I love Kings of the Beach, okay? It’s really fun and exciting!”
*pause*
Me: “Unlike you.”
Chris: “You play Kings of the Beach so much and you always ignore me now! I hate Kings of the Beach!”
Me: “SHUT UP! You don’t know anything about Kings of the Beach! You never leave me alone anymore!”
Chris: “YOU SHUT UP!!! I HATE KINGS OF THE BEACH!!!”

*Chris leaves the room sobbing*

-The End-

You see? It’s hilarious, isn’t it?

Let me regale you with the tale of the worst job I’ve ever had.

When I was 14, I signed up to be a part of a city-sponsored program called the Youth Employment Project (YEP). We would get assigned odd jobs like cleaning up parks, raking old people’s lawns, picking dog crap up off sidewalks and other sorts of tasks that were probably better left to prisoners or illegal immigrants. While we were on the job, we had to wear these awful flourescent yellow t-shirts that had YEP! emblazoned on them. This served to scar and humiliate us until we didn’t have enough will to resist our supervisor’s commands.

That summer, during the annual Rochester-Fest celebration, I was assigned to tend to the garbage bins for a two-block area. Rochester-Fest is similar to a county fair, only it’s more cramped and much less enjoyable. So there I was, wearing my nasty YEP! shirt and some gloves, dealing with overflowing trash receptacles, and fighting off the bees that were invariably swarming near the garbage. It was hot, I was sweating badly, and I was a gangly, uncoordinated 14 year old boy.

I did this all day, every day for a week. I was paid $4.25 an hour for it.

But this wasn’t the worst of it. No, the worst part is that I was assigned to clean up after the block that featured a stand called, “Learn to Country Line Dance!” This was during the summer of Billy Ray Cyrus’, “Achy, Breaky Heart”. So for every line dancing lesson they handed out, they’d play “Achy, Breaky Heart” 4-5 times. Lessons took place twice an hour all day. For an entire week. So not only was I a painfully awkard 14 year old wearing a flourescent yellow shirt smelling like garbage and fighting off bees, but I was doing this amist the constant backdrop of “Achy, Breaky Heart”.

I still have nervous tics whenever I hear that song.

My brother Patrick is one of the funniest people I know.

His humor is very dry and never obvious – always displaying a level of complexity and strangeness to it that makes it continually rewarding. He’s part of an improv comedy troupe that performs during the summer, and he’s a writer for a satirical college newsletter called the Tommy Basement Times.

Recently, Patrick put together an entire issue of the Times, and was kind enough to email a copy of it to me. Here’s a note he sent along with:

peter-

i’m glad you appreciate the articles though. a lot of my humor is doing things despite or without recognition and appreciation, but it’s nice to know that you enjoy it.

-dad

My favorite article is piece on cats on the front page – I’ve been giggling to myself about it for the last 24 hours.

Click here to read it!

A few weeks back, I began what I hoped would be a regular feature on The John Larroquette Project called Awkward Moments. My first entry on this topic was devoted to the Awkward Tinkle. Today’s is called Awkwardly Botching a Big Announcement.

Sunday was a shooting day for Rock TV, and after we finished, a small group of us went out for dinner to relax and celebrate being done for the day. My friends Leroy and Todd (Scotty Poppenjaws) were there, along with Rachel and our married friends Ryan and Arlene. We were going on about something or other, and the topic briefly paused on the topic of our friends Laura and Ryan who had a baby last year. I briefly paused asked, “Is there another married couple at the Rock who have gone ahead and actually had kids once they got married?” As I paused to think about that, Arlene popped up, “You’re looking at them.”

For some reason, the concept of Ryan and Arlene being pregnant seemed so far out of the realm of plausability that it felt appropriate for me to abruptly change the topic of conversation. My friend Todd and I started talking about something else, I can’t remember what, and I just remember there being an odd vibe at the table at that point.

Later on, when I got home, I happened to remember having seen ultrasound pictures on Ryan and Arlene’s fridge that day. I talked to my friend Matt on Monday and he mentioned that they were pregnant, and suddenly it all painfully came into focus.

This Awkward Moment also falls into the sub-category of the Delayed Gratification Awkward Moment - where you don’t realize how awkard it was until a day or two later. I called Ryan yesterday to congratulate him and laugh about the incident. I didn’t get to talk to Arlene, but I plan to drag out the awkwardness with her as long as possible. I hope to wait until she is about 8 months pregnant and then toss out an offhand comment that perhaps it’s time for her to give the Atkins Diet a try.

That should be plenty uncomfortable.

Lonely? Looking for love?

Uncle Pete’s got the solution for you!

Some see internet personal ads as an unpleasant or ineffective way to find a spouse. I disagree - I believe that no greater way of finding love has ever been devised throughout the entire history of mankind. They allow you to put yourself out there in an interesting, dynamic way, and let the dates roll in. Some of you might say, “but I don’t know how to write a good one!” Don’t worry, Uncle Pete’s gonna help you out. Here are a few personal ads I’ve posted online that have proven to be greatly fruitful. I have gone on an estimated 9ooo dates in the last 18 months using these. Use them wisely!

—-

Greetings - I am nearly 8 feet tall. My hands are roughly the size of an 8 1/2 x 11 sheet of paper. I am, by any reasonable standard, an inhuman freak of nature. I enjoy dabbling in arts and crafts, but my fingers are too large to grip the required tools. Please call me (immediately, if possible). One final note: I am currently bleeding from my mouth and ears.

—-

Some have said that it is foolish to spend 6 months floating on an innertube in the Baltic Sea. I have proven those people wrong by doing so. I am currently writing this while floating adrift with just me, my innertube, my laptop, and my wireless connection. I recently encountered a gang of pirates who stole all my other clothes and belongings before punching me in the mouth and throwing me overboard. I have my days when I feel lonely and/or brutally cold. This is where you come in. Please rescue me. I will reward you with a series of dates in which I will be charming and engaging. I will purchase the finest flowers for you and my eyes will sparkle. Time is of the essence in this matter, as my body has recently become wracked with spasms due to my enormous salt ingestion. I look forward to meeting you!

—-

Falling asleep is my favorite part of the day, because in that moment I am finally released from my anger.

I also like cats.

—-

A few months ago I downloaded AIM onto my computer in a futile attempt to help make my boring days at work somewhat more bearable. Before AIM, I would spend my free time at work obsessively cleaning my glasses and keeping up on fingernail maintenence. Now I get to spend those hours chatting with some of my friends. I’ve made some new friends - Geof, Rhonda, Sarah, Dave, and Michaela; I sometimes chat with my high school friends Dane and Erik; and sometimes I’ll even chat with my brother Patrick.

Over time I learned all the little acronyms and AIM-isms like “lol” and “brb”, and I even learned the difference between “haha” and “hehe”. However, sometimes those aren’t enough. In the spirit of making my AIM chats more efficient, I am introducing some new acronyms that can be used:

IYFP: I yearn for pudding
IAOTD: I am off to defecate
TIASAMD: There is a squid at my door
BSHJBATNPFC: Bob Saget has just been awarded the Nobel Prize for Chemistry
IACS: I am currently squatting
TPNMS: This pork needs more salt
ISWTFAM: I someday wish to father a mule

These new acronyms will improve the speed and efficiency of chats, while still allowing us to touch on such universal topics as unspiced pork and land-moving squid. Any other suggestions?