Friday, March 30, 2007

She's a Lady Whoa Whoa Whoa She's a Lady

Okay so file this under you can't make this stuff up.

I wish this would have happened before I posted my last post because it's perfect for it.

I came off of the stage last night and went outside the club followed by two drunk hookers, or college girls, it's hard to tell sometimes.

Maybe it was the glitter all over their bodies or the six inch clear plastic hooker shoes.

Welcome to Spring Break 2007 in San Diego.

Anyway they come up to me and one of them grabs my arm and says, "For an old guy you're F&*#*!g funny."

"Gee thanks."

Her friend falls against me and as she's trying to steady herself says, "I just puked."

"Thanks for sharing."

The other one says, "OUT HERE???"

And the one hanging all over me says, and I quote, "No bitch, in the toilet like a F&*#$^g lady."



What else can you say?

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Cigarettes!!! Drink Fresh!!!!!

Next month, April 20th, I will have gone twenty years without a cigarette.

Twenty years….

Twenty years ago I was an inch taller.

Twenty years ago I had more hair.

Or less face.

Twenty years ago I weighed 165 pounds.

Soaking wet.

Okay so maybe it was closer to 185 pounds.

Then I quit smoking.

Cold turkey.

It’s appropriate they name quitting that way after food.

I gained a hundred pounds in a year.

I remember feeling like I could become a serial killer in that first thirty days after quitting. I would be the killer that did the world a favor by killing every person that asked, “Doesn’t food taste better now that you’ve quit?”

Apparently it does.

I used to smoke four packs of cigarettes and have two or more pots of coffee a day.

To help me relax.

I would smoke a pack of cigarettes and drink a pot of coffee before 10:00am every morning.

I was what scientists called, awake.

I had to quit drinking coffee at the same time I quit smoking because I couldn’t separate the two.

Oh I was a REAL joy to be around that first month.

I could have invaded Iraq by myself.

I remember after I quit smoking trying to take a drag off of something that wasn’t there.

In my mind I was holding a cigarette.

I would bring my hand up to my mouth to take a drag off my imaginary smoke only to take a hit of air.

I remember thinking, “So that’s what air tastes like. Huh… It’s a little dry.”

I was sitting here trying to remember why I quit smoking. I think it was because smoking kills.

But then I thought to myself, “Not everyone.”

We’ve all known that one old guy who lives to be ninety years old who smokes no filter cigarettes and drinks a couple of shots of Jack a day.

Maybe scientists need to focus less on what’s killing us and more on what’s keeping that guy alive!!!

At least he was skinny.

I’m not saying this because I want to start smoking again.

I’d much rather have shortness of breath because I’m fat than because I have emphysema.

I guess I started thinking about this because lately it seems like I’m seeing more and more young people smoking.

I see them all the time smoking outside the comedy clubs where I perform.

A scientific study conducted by me and three other comedians outside of the Comedy Palace in San Diego concluded the following:

75% of the smokers are women.

They’re drunk.

They think I’m Jon Lovitz.

They want me to buy them another drink.

They’re dressed like hookers.

They’re young enough to be my daughter.

It is not unusual for a breast or two to come flying out for no reason. A friend of mine almost lost an eye. Thank god he just suffered a mild concussion.

They speak in a unique language.

Here’s an example from Saturday night.

“F*&#^*#G AAAAAAAA!!!! Yuurrr funneeeeee. You…Yash…Youuuuu…..

“Well thank you.”

“Yoush….. I know yoush.”

“No I don’t think so.”

"Shhhhurrre…. Yurrrrrrr that guy… The eath fresssssshhhhhhhhhhh guy.”

“Jon Lovitz.”

“YASH!!! Yourrre that guy.”

“No I’m not Jon Lovitz.”



“Thas whut I shaid. You has mo… mo…. Money. Buy me a drinks.”

“I can’t. My wife won’t let me.”

”Pussshy. Thish guy ish a PUUUUSHHHY!!!”

“No I’m just not allowed to talk to women that are half my age. I could hurt myself and I don’t like your music.”

“ISSSAaaaac ish my boyfren. Will you talk to my boyfren?”

“Um…At the end of the show.”

“NO NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!! I neeeeds another shmoke. Give me a shmoke.”

“I don’t smoke.”

“PUUUSSHHHYYYY!!!!! Yurr sush a pussshy.”

“Um… you have burn marks from cigarettes all over your clothes. Maybe smoking isn’t your thing.”

“Issac likesh when I shmoke. He says ish makes me look older. Will you tell Issac what a catch I am? Tell him. Tell him I’mmmm pretty.”

“I’m sorry I can’t. That would make me a lesbian and possibly a democrat.”

“He lovesssshhh me.”



Ahhhh….. The sound of a dead drunk, smoke filled twenty something year old woman hitting the pavement.

At least her fake breasts broke her fall.

I did try to use my cat like reflexes to catch her. Put this Pusshhhhhy is getting a little older and a little slower.

So is it the alcohol that makes them smoke or the smoke that makes them drink? I can only go on my own experience.

I quit smoking cigarettes twenty years ago.

I quit drinking coffee twenty years ago.

I’m not crazy. I still drink tequila.

Maybe I should have my own slogan.

“Drink Freshhhhhhh!!!!!!”

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Can you hear me now?

This post is really a follow up to my last post.

Because now I’ve seen everything.

It’s official.

Everyone has a cell phone.

I just saw a homeless guy unplug the water machine outside of 7-11 and plug in his cell phone to recharge it.

His cell phone….


Who’s he gonna call?

Pizza Hut?

Who’s on his “Fav – Five”?

Father Joe’s Village?

Can you see other homeless guys yelling at him for pushing his cart and using his phone at the same time?

What would you call a hands free device for a homeless guy?

A “One Tooth”?

I was mesmerized watching this.

You don’t see this everyday.

I was tempted to ask him if he had a “My Space” page but I could smell him from my car and I didn’t have any spare change.

Achmed from 7-11 must have been alerted by someone else because he came running out yelling.

“Hullahullahullahullahullahullahullahulla!!! You stop smelly man!!!”

At this moment I realized that I was watching the triumph of the American spirit.

The homeless guy looked up at Achmed and said, and I quote, “Kiss my ass you terrorist F&*K!!!”
I was stunned.

Then I started to laugh.

Then I started to applaud.

Don’t get me wrong. I felt bad for Achmed. He was just doing his job and I know he’s actually a Chaldean Christian. But in that moment I realized that America was secure.

Because even if they could defeat our military they could never defeat a country of homeless pissed off alcoholics with cell phones.

If Patrick Henry was alive today he would say, “Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me Verizon or give me death!”

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

We all just need to sloooowwwww down.......

I think technology is advancing in the wrong direction?

Cell phones are so small they look like something you’d find in Barbie’s “Dream House”.

What’s next? Are human’s going to evolve so that we have little tiny points on the end of our fingers so we can use the damn phone!!!

I can’t use any one of those stupid “berry” things because my hands are too damn big.

Why create smaller things when we all know we’re getting bigger?

Why does new technology mean it has to be smaller?

At what point do we say enough is enough? When we just download TV directly to our brains?

Have you ever tried to watch movies or TV on these stupid “pod” things?

Is anyone really sitting around saying, “Damn I missed American Idol, but at least I can download it to my two inch screen and shove it in my eye.”?

These “pod” things can hold up to 20,000 songs.

Who even knows 20,000 songs? I can’t remember the right lyrics to “Louie Louie”!!! How in the hell can you remember 20,000 songs?

And I’m not even counting Rap or Country Western songs because all Rap and Country Western Songs sound the same. Download either one and you’ve pretty much downloaded them all.

“But Tony how can you compare Rap to Country Western?”

Because a Country Western song is basically Rap translated into English.

In either song someone or something is getting shot, stolen, screwed or driven around.

Am I wrong?

I believe you only need to listen to three songs.

Stairway to Heaven, New York New York and Santa Got Run Over By a Reindeer. You have those three… you’ve pretty much heard everything.

The thing that really makes me nuts is this “blue” thing. The…. what the hell is it called?...... “Blue Tooth”!!!

They should call it “Blue Balls”!!! You can’t get a woman to go out with you wearing one of those stupid things in your ear.

You never see a woman wearing one of those.

You know why?

Because women know that Star Fleet Command doesn’t exist!!!

“But Tony how do we talk to people when we’re driving? We’re supposed to talk hands free.”

Nooooo……. you’re supposed to drive and shut the “^%*& up!!!

Why do we always have to be connected to something?

There was a time when we could make our own decisions without having to call our wives for permission.

I remember those times.

Okay maybe it was just one time.

But we were men, the man of the house, the hunter, the Alpha dog!!!

Now we can’t go to the store without calling to make sure we get the right diet cheese and feminine napkins.

What has happened to us?

We don’t need to be plugged in.

We need to wake up!

Why is it we have access to more information than ever before but no one seems to know anything?

Our kids can get a “youtube” video downloaded to their cell phones showing a grill cheese sandwich in Somalia with the face of Lou Gosset Jr. imprinted on it 30 minutes after it’s grilled up but they don’t even know where Somalia is.

Technology has become the new religion.

You don’t think so?

Haven’t we all heard, “Oh don’t worry eventually technology will catch up and we’ll figure that out.”?

Um…. Isn’t that pretty much faith?

Huh… I wonder what songs Jesus would download.

“Knock Knock Knockin on Heavens Door….”

I guarantee Madonna won’t be on his iPod.

What would Gandhi download? Jingles for food commercials?

What would Abraham Lincoln download?

“Well I think I’m going out of my head…..”

What would Mother Theresa download?

“Don’t you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?”

I got a million of em…….

I just want to get through one day where the only reason I hear the word “downloaded” is because someone drank too much tequila.

I tired of technology I hate it!!!

“Are you done whining Calabrese?”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.”

“Is all this stuff you’re spewing because you can’t figure out how to change the time on the microwave?”

“It’s not just the microwave. It’s my phone and my watch too. Stupid technology. It was a lot easier when there was just an hour hand to move ahead. Stupid digital technology. Communist bastards. I hate it.”

“Do you want me to get your grandson to do it?”

“Very funny woman, I’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Yeah… next year.”

“Stupid technology, stupid daylight savings time. If this was saving so much electricity how come we aren’t on daylight savings time all year? Communists…..”

“You don’t hate technology Calabrese. You write a blog on a computer for Christ’s sake. So stop your bitching and fix the clocks.”

“Hey!!! I’m the man of the house! I know what I’m doing!”

“Apparently you’re the man of the house that’s going to be one hour late for the next year.”

“Fine, get your own diet cheese.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Don’t you wish your husband was hot like me……..”

Friday, March 02, 2007

And I'm Freeeee!!! Free Fallin!!!! Ouch!!!!

Now I have had my issues with gravity in the past but I had never fallen off the stage.

Until now.

In front of 250 people.

I knew when I went out on stage that it was unusually dark. I couldn’t see a soul. Not even the people in the front row. The spot light was soooo bright it was like standing in a tunnel six feet from an oncoming train.

I saw the mike stand and knew it was just few inches from the edge of the stage so I pulled the mike out and proceeded to talk to my invisible audience. I even joked with the people in the front row, that I couldn’t see, about having the dangerous seats and how dark it was and how they may have a big Italian guy in their laps shortly.

But I knew roughly where the edge was and stayed safely back.

When I finished my set I turned to leave the stage and….

Well here’s the thing.

I knew where the front of the stage was.

I didn’t know where the side of the stage was.

It’s a very weird feeling walking into air.


Exhilarating actually.


I thought to myself, “this must be what an angel feels like”, as I hovered ever so daintily over the crowd.


Then I heard Sly and the Family Stone in my head.

“I wanna take you higher…. Baby baby baby light my fire.”

“Boom Shaka laka laka boom.”

Using my cat like reflexes, I think it was on the second "laka", I reached back and grabbed the stage curtains.


At that point I heard a voice in my head say, “Dude, you don’t seriously think you can hold yourself up with just your left hand?”

Apparently not.

As the curtains slipped through my fingers I felt a sharp pain in my hand……where the straight pin, that had no business being in the curtains other than to make a falling fat guy miserable, had gone thru my fourth finger.

That’s right.

All the way thru.


Still attached to the curtains.


You see a three inch straight pin isn’t strong enough to hold the weight of a 250 pound falling Italian comedian.


Since I was now attached to the curtains I didn’t drop straight to the floor. I kind of swung out.

Almost like Tarzan.

Only fatter.

And without Cheetah.

When I hit the floor I landed on my left side.

A lot.

Ignoring the pain and humiliation I immediately sprang to my feet and shouted, “I’m okay.”

Then I tripped over a chair and fell again.

Which was followed by a standing ovation from my now adoring fans.

You can be bleeding out of your eyes but if you get a standing ovation you’re thinking, “MADE IT MA!!! TOP OF THE WORLD.”

When the bleeding stopped I limped out to the lobby to thank people for coming out to the show, which is something I always do, usually without the limp or compression bandages.

What was kind of funny to me was how some people thought that my fall was staged.

My favorite quote was from a guy that looked and sounded like Al Pacino in Scarface.

“Ju do dis ebery tine? Ju one crazy mudder#%$&*#.”

I just showed him my bandaged finger.

“Say hello to my little friend.”

Thursday, March 01, 2007

Do you suffer from painful hem...........?


“What’s wrong babe?”


“Honey what happened? Uh… Why are you holding a needle and thread in your hands? You don’t sew.”

“I can sew. I just choose not to sew.”

“That works for me. I can use a hammer I just choose to hire a Mexican.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“So what’s with the needle and thread?”

“I was trying to save money.”

“Uh…. Doing what? Were you going to sew my mouth shut while I was sleeping?”

“Don’t tempt me Calabrese.”

“Why don’t you put that needle down before you poke my eye out with it? What does saving money have do to with you sewing something?”

“I didn’t want to pay to have these pants hemmed.”

“It’s seven bucks babe. You didn’t want to spend seven dollars?”

“It was the principle of the thing.”

“Okay so now they’re hemmed what’s the problem? Did you stick yourself?”

“Look again.”

“What? I think you did a pretty good job. I don’t usually see you doing chick stuff like that. That’s very impressive babe. Good for you.”

“Chick stuff?”

“Uh…. You know like sewing and mending and stuff…. You know…. Chick stuff.”


“I mean… you know… housework stuff like women do.”

“So now you’re saying I don’t do housework?”

“No I mean…. Um… Okay stop right there. I’m obviously an idiot and you’re confusing me.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“I said I was an idiot. I’m sorry, what else can I say?”

“Nothing, I already know you’re an idiot. I can’t believe I did this to my pants.”


“I should know better than to tell you.”


“I hemmed the wrong side.”

“How can you hem the wrong side? A hem is a hem.”


“Uh… Yes well… It is on the outside… It doesn’t look that bad.”


“It doesn’t look that bad? It doesn’t look that BAD? I hemmed the wrong side.”

“You could just wear them that way as a fashion statement.”

“A fashion statement? What statement am I making? That I can’t hem my PANTS???”

“Why didn’t you just let the little Chinese lady at the cleaners do it?”

“I told you I was trying to save money.”

“Uh huh… because it was the principle of the thing?”


“So the principle of the thing is to go out and spend some amount of money, which I don’t want to know, buying a new pair of pants and then rather than letting a highly trained Chinese professional hem them for seven dollars, or the equivalent of two cups of some frappolattomacho crap from Starbucks, you hem them yourself as a statement to fiscal responsibility?”

“Something like that.”

“Okay so just take the pants down to the Chinese lady now and get them fixed.”

“I will, I just have to let the hem out.”

“Let me guess… so she won’t know you hemmed them the wrong way?”


“Just blame me and you won’t have to screw around with them anymore.”

“Oh I’m going to tell the lady at the cleaners that my idiot husband tried to hem my pants and hemmed them on the outside?”

“Sure, why not?”

“She won’t believe me.”


“Because she’s met you and she knows I wouldn’t let you anywhere near my pants.”

“Um… you might want to rephrase that.”

“No… I don’t think so.”

“Is that because you think I’m going to write about this in my blog.”

“You’re not that stupid.”