You can tell when a comic is from out of town because he or she does jokes about the weather. Also, they look and smell different, but the first sign is usually their opener about not having a hat.
I can’t say I blame them. I’m sure when I get around to doing spots in LA I’ll announce how perfect the weather is , just as long as a mudslide or an earthquake or a wildfire doesn’t ruin my day, and how I’ve been making sure not to stand still for more than five minutes so that I don’t get graffito-tagged by a graffiti artist. But boy, all these hot blondes out here, huh? Holy shit! Our tens are your eights! *pause for laughter* *look around frantically for laughter* *wonder why there is no laughter* *accept familiar awkwardness of uncomfortable strangers* *hate self*
Chicago has nasty winters. Nasty. They’re nasty not because of the weather but because … oh, and by the way, Minneapolis. People in that town must hate Chicago. We get all the bad winter props that, in all honesty, should be going to them. Their winters are way worse than ours, on account of them being farther North, and because they are in Minneapolis.
People say about Chicago: How do you live here?
People say about Minneapolis: Why would you live there?
See the crucial difference between those two statements. People actually visit Chicago, but people only hear about Minneapolis, like some kind of Medieval town a couple streams off the spice route that is rumored to be terrorized by a dragon. Rumors like that can be really bad for tourism. It’s why I’ll never visit Rockford.
Why am I crapping on Minneapolis? It’s a fine state filled with fine people. I’m looking at you, Franken!
Canada, now that’s a town that has something to brag about in the shit winter department. Did you know that canadians have only one word for “snow” but twenty-three words for “mustache icicles”? It’s true. And boy, their women sure do have eyebrows, huh? I don’t know if I want to give them a tweezer or scrub my pots and pans! What, did Gandalf go on a rape spree here? Drunk on wizard wine and filled with a rageful lust for women with fuzzy thighs? *pause for laughter* *hear a polite chuckle and the sound of someone texting* *decide that joke has potential* *hate self less*
But now that its getting warmer (mid 30s) people are looking forward to shorts weather (upper 30s). I had a moment of happiness when I realized that all across this city women are plotting to wear skirts outside of their homes. Some on a near daily basis. If flowers were made of whiskey and could walk in heels, then they would be a woman in a skirt.
People often ask me if I’m into breasts or legs and to them I say, “I love the entire thing!” Then they say, “What would you like?” To which I say, “Everything but the foot!” Then they say, “Sir?” And then I say, “This is a strange conversation to be having at a KFC.” Then they say, “Please pull up to the next window.”
In the Spring we wear shorts and skirts when it hits the upper 30s but we wouldn’t dare wear such items in anything under 60 degrees in the Fall. That was the only sentence I wanted to write when I started this post.