The U of H show.
Oh Christ. Why do you have to go pissing in the open
wound that was the UH show? It was part of some KRBE-sponsored (but not
broadcast) variety show in spring 1999, but we didn't discover until we
arrived on campus that it was in some tiny-ass, narrow cafeteria, and
that only people that hated laughter had been invited. I'm all in favor
of overcoming adversity to shine, but the deck was stacked against our
wee contingent (Blake, me, and I think Eric, Nathan and one other).
First off, we didn't warm up, because we thought we weren't going to be
on for an hour when the dipshit guy running the show (Senthil Ramamurthy
- funny which names stick with you) called us up. I had been doing history
reading up until that point, and had nothing but jokes about Wilhelm II's
militaristic foreign policy in my head. Anyway, this Senthil guy had tried
to impress upon us before the show the importance of relying on sex jokes,
and, as if to prove his point, he laughed riotously whenever other people
(or better yet, he) mentioned the use of a penis. Worse, the act before
us was some inert lump of dude reading depressed, hackneyed poetry about
girls 'n' stuff. So the audience was catatonic throughout our eight-minute
eternity of a performance, and looked at us as if we were some weird (but
not funny-weird) twitching fish pressed up against the cafeteria's movable
What a whiny bastard you must think I am! Anyway, that
sucked. But the Yale show and every Owl Weekend show ever rocked. I mean,
we're really hot.