Monday, August 27, 2007

Does Jimmy Choo make a man shoe?

Friday night I came off the stage at The Comedy Palace and went outside to cool off and get some air. There were a couple of other comedians out there and of course the usual drunk young girls smoking Camel no filtered cigarettes.

I was followed outside by a woman that looked like a very tanned version of Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies who had obviously had a few too many.

She was probably about twenty one years old.

“Hey man you were f&*^*ng funny man.”

“Well thank you.”

“Naw man I mean really f&*^*ng funny.”

“Thanks again.”

“Hey man you wanna hear a joke?”

Most comedians today don’t tell jokes. We talk about life and put our own twist on it. But every comedian will tell you that people constantly offer them jokes. Usually they are old jokes we’ve all heard a million times but we’re polite, tell them they’re funny and thank them. That way everybody’s happy.

“Sure I’d love to hear your joke.”

“Give me your shoe.”

“Excuse me?”


“I’m not giving you my shoe. Just tell me the joke.”

“I need your shoe man.”

Now the other two comedians that are out there, my dear friends, are egging her on.

“Give her your shoe man, come on man, give her your shoe. Don’t be a pussy man give her your shoe.”

“Why don’t you guys give her a shoe?”


“Okay okay here’s my shoe.”

(What am I doing this for?)

She then takes a huge drag off of her cigarette and places my shoe over her mouth like a gas mask and exhales the smoke into my shoe.

She then holds my shoe out to me. Smoke is coming out of my shoe billowing up from the opening.

“What’s this man?”

“I... uh... have no idea.”


“I don’t know.”

“A Palestinian bus stop.”

I lost it. I don’t think I have ever laughed at a joke that hard in my life. To see this sun burnt wrinkled drunk chick holding my smoking shoe deliver that punch line was just too much.

The two other comedians were laughing just as hard as well. One of them spit out his drink.

The drunk chick handed me back my shoe and then turned to stumble back inside. As she turned she looked at the three of us and said, “I should be a f$%#*ng comedian.”

Not one of us could argue with her.

The three of us told that story the rest of the weekend. The comedians we told that story to all laughed. They loved the setup, the punch line and the fact that a drunk chick told the joke.

It’s a great joke.

Not one of the women around us liked the joke.

Not one.


It was originally told by a woman.

It’s a brilliant joke.

It always amazes me how something can be funny to some people and not funny to others.

I decided that I would consult an expert on jokes and humor to find an answer.

I decided to tell the story to my wife.

“You’re not laughing.”

“It wasn’t funny.”

“Oh it was funny.”

“No so much.”

“How can you not like that joke?”

“That girl put her mouth in your shoe? I can’t believe that girl put her mouth inside your shoe.”

“I know isn’t that hilarious.”

“It’s disgusting. How drunk was she?”

“Pretty drunk, but don’t you think that’s a brilliant punch line?”

“So you’re telling me that a perfect stranger, who was drunk, asked for one of your stinky smelly shoes, which you then gave to her, and then she put her face into it and blew smoke into it?”

“My shoes aren’t stinky and smelly.”

“The girl put her MOUTH inside your SHOE!!!!”

“Forget that part. Focus on the joke. The smoking shoe, Palestinian bus stop, get it? That’s funny.”

“How did that girl get home?”


“How did that girl get home? You didn’t let her drive did you?”

“How do I know? I’m sure her boyfriend took her home.”

“Do you always hand your shoes to drunken women?”

“Of course not.”

“So this particular woman got you to give her your shoe.”


“Was she pretty?”

“I told you she looked like a tan version of Granny from the Beverly Hillbilly’s.”

“Uh huh… Did she have big boobs?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t looking at her boobs. You’ve forgotten the point here.”

“The point is you need to stop hanging around these drunken women.”

“I don’t hang around drunken women. I don’t hang around any women.”

“You seem to always have a story about some drunken slut outside a comedy club.”

“She wasn’t a slut.”

“How would you know?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to know. I don’t know any sluts. I don’t know anything about sluts. I couldn’t find a slut if you paid me to find a slut. I’m slut free. I’m 50 years old. I’ve been married for 29 years. I’m in a slut free zone. I only told you about this because of the joke. That’s what I was trying to get across. I was trying to figure out why women don’t like the joke. I don’t care about that drunken slut.”

“So she was a slut.”

“How on earth would I know if she’s a slut?”

“You just called her a slut.”

“I only called her a slut because you called her a slut and I’m trying to get past the whole slut part.”

“So you’re trying to shut me up?”

“That’s not what I said. I was just trying to turn the conversation back to the joke.”

“The joke the slut told.”

“Fine she’s a slut. She’s a comedy groupie. We’ve all had her. All comedians secretly have a fetish for Granny and Miss Hathaway. It’s the threesome we’ve all yearned for. I can’t sleep at night without thinking of her tanned wrinkled flesh. Are you happy now?”


“Yes what?”

“I’m happy now.”

“What the hell are you happy about?”


“So the joke…. You like the joke?”

The joke…The joke was stupid. Me getting you all worked up over the story? Now that’s funny.”

“So you put me through that on purpose just to make me feel like an idiot?”

“If the shoe fits…..”