#11 IN A SERIES . . . . . NEW BIG MOVE
EVERY MONTH! Hey Tom, where've you been? Glad you asked. It's been a
crazy month-and-a-half around here. My best friend's friend,
and cousin of Jimmy Kimmel, Sal Iacano, arranged for me to
submit a writing package for The Man Show.
Needless to say, I didn't get the job. That sucked, but
it was not nearly the worst thing that happened to me
On April 18 I went to Happy Hour at the Bungalow club
on Melrose with comedians Peter Grumbine, Rob Little,
Mark Saldana and Jimmy Shubert. Jimmy left early, as he
had a set at the Comedy Store. We all eventually met up
at The Improv where, once again, Jimmy had a set. Two sets
in one Hollywood night-- that's some kind of record!
Jimmy's set at The Improv was for some new "Red
Light" show Bud's (Friedman) been running where,
between the comedian's sets, porno stars do sketches, improv
and not-so-great standup. But since we're talking porn
stars here I must admit it was kind of fun to watch. A young
lady named "Houston" was there. I was not familiar
with her work, but word on the street is that she once had 500
guys in one day. Did I mention my wife came with me to The
Improv to see Shubert? As the story of Houston's record-breaking
gangbang got around, my wife got a little agitated, acting as
if I was one of the aforementioned 500.
"Why would anyone do that? What girl would subject
herself to that? And what kind of guy would want to wait in
line to stick his dick in 438th," my wife asked. And
she had a point. What kind of lunatic would wait in line
all day to plunk his pecker in her for 15 seconds? I won't
wait more than ten minutes to do most anything, let alone
get up close and personal with a vagina that would have
to resemble road kill after about guy number 50.
It's not something you can really brag about, is it?
You can't really boast of banging some girl 368th out of
500. Who could you tell? Your parents? I don't think
so. Your coworkers? Not unless you're a comic. Even
if you have the most open-minded spouse you could never
tell her. You certainly couldn't tell your siblings as
they might open their big mouths next Thanksgiving when
even grandma would find out. And the list goes on and
on. It's just not worth it. There's no up side. You
do crazy things for the story and I'm not so sure you
get one with this. Then again, maybe I'm too conservative
now that I'm married. If you'd asked me about this when
was in college at Syracuse, (Home of the 2003 NCAA Basketball
Champs) I might have reacted differently.
Right before Jimmy went on, my glands started to
feel swollen and I got somewhat of a headache. I went
outside to get some fresh air where I saw Doug Stanhope
hanging around. Surprise, surprise! Dozens of porn stars
are in the club and Doug Stanhope just happens to show up.
Coincidence? I think not.
As we talked for a minute or two, Sandra Bullock got
out of a Mercedes and popped in for a drink at the front
bar. No real reason to tell you that, I just thought it
was weird she popped in. Upon finishing up our chat with
Doug, my wife and I left as I really started to feel like
crap. We never got to see Shubert's show, and I really
wanted my wife to see him it.
The next few days, I felt lethargic and had a slight
fever, but didn't think it was anything serious. I went
to the doctor to be sure. He prescribed an antibiotic
because that's what doctor's do. "Oh, you're not
feeling well? You better take an antibiotic."
On Wednesday, I flew to Ft. Lauderdale to begin what
was to be two consecutive split weeks at Uncle Funny's--
one of my two favorite clubs along with Stanford's in Kansas
City. I felt like shit as I checked into my hotel and
somehow got through my set. I immediately went back to
the Residence Inn and got the chills and the sweats and
then the chills once again. This went on through Friday
afternoon, but the worst was just around the corner.
After the second show Friday night, in the
back office of the club, my resting pulse was
around 125-130. I started to get very nervous.
Club owner Andrew Dorfman came in to see what was
wrong. He told me to relax and not worry about the
rest of the weekend's shows. He just wanted to be sure
I was okay. I told him I'd never felt as sick. Moments
later I started to throw up. It was a puking session
that lasted all night Friday, through Saturday (Yes, I
missed the shows) and into Sunday. On Sunday morning
I asked the hotel to call me a cab so I could go to
the hospital. One of the girls at the front desk
ran to her car and took me to the emergency room
Now here's a little trick for you: If you ever get
tired of waiting in the ER and want to see a doctor, I
suggest puking right there in the waiting area. It
worked for me and it can work for you too. When they
brought me in I had been suffering with the worst headache
of my life and it shot all the way down my neck. I was
also having a difficult time with my eyes-- they were incredibly
painful and sensitive to light.
The next thing I know they're sticking needles in
both my arms and I hear the one thing I was afraid of,
"Nurse, we're gonna have to take a spinal tap."
The spinal tap itself didn't hurt, but the local
anesthesia beforehand hurt like a motherfucker. I don't
know if you've ever seen the needles they use for spinal
taps, but they are HUGE. I would have passed out had
they showed it to me first.
"Okay, Tom, cut to the chase," you're probably
saying. I was diagnosed with viral meningitis, phlebitis
and irisitis. The latter being an infection of the iris,
which, if left untreated could have caused blindness.
On the one hand, I'm glad to be getting over the irisitis,
but on the other hand, being a blind comic would've been
some kind of hook, don't you think?
In all seriousness, it was very scary and I'm happy
to say that although my vision is still blurry, the irisitis
is just about gone. My ophthalmologist has told me that
he's seen a 90 per cent improvement over the last two weeks and
that my blurred vision is now more from the eye drops I've
been taking than anything else. He expects my vison to
be perfect about a week after I conclude the drops.
I spent ten days in the hospital and experienced a
spinal tap, two CAT Scans, two chest X-rays, an MRI,
and what seemed to be dozens of blood tests. What did
all this cost you say? The first hospital bill came in
at just under $36,000 and that doesn't include any of
the eye specialists I've had to see three times a week
since I've returned to LA.
I did get tons of pain killers and no, I did not go
through them all so I'm anticipating a number of
messages on my voice mail when this is all over.
"Hey Tom, you still got any of them muscle relaxers?
How 'bout that Fioricet? I heard that works wonders on
pain." It does. And how many times did you call
when I was in the hospital? I thought so.
So what's the moral of the story? Get yourself
health insurance. You say you can't afford it? Then
at least marry someone with insurance like I did. I'd
be in a hole deeper than Jimmy Hoffa if we didn't have
insurance to cover that $36K. If you can't get insurance
and don't see marriage on the horizon you might want
to start thinking about a move to Canada. Send a tape
to Yuk Yuks and pack your bags.
And if you don't want to get married and have no
interest in becoming a Blue Jay's fan might I make one
more suggestion? Keep away from 500 guy gangbangs of
one woman. I don't care how hot she is. The health
risks are too great. My doctor says you could even
come down with meningitis. But what does he know?
See you next month.