Thank You

I want to put into words what I think all the time but hardly ever say online anymore: Thank you.

My biggest priority in life right now is to truly appreciate what I have and express my gratitude, instead of assuming people know and taking such things for granted as I’ve done for most of my adult life.

I will try to keep this short and sweet but I took an Ambien, so if I trail off or things get confusing my only response is strawberry shortcake butter dog town.

Twitter is not the be-all-end-all of comedy, to put it lightly, but it has impacted my life in ways I never would’ve surmised.

I’m not good at the math or sciences. I’m terrible at the sports and the last time I danced I could hear the floor beneath my flailing limbs actively rooting against me.

I tried magic but the rabbit kept pulling me out of the hat with visible disgust and when I became a librarian I found out that declaring it in my head doesn’t make it a fact, even if you whisper it over and over.

I enjoy writing with all my heart and most of my thighs, especially comedy. After I got clean from heavy drugs I never thought I would have a shot at being a reputable person, let alone a comedian again.

But life is funny.

I moved to New York to become famous for stand-up comedy. Two months after I arrived I declared bankruptcy. I could barely afford to make ends meet so I turned to Twitter for an outlet and from the beginning people were so kind, generous, and supportive of my writing that I’m still in awe.

I try my best every day to step outside my comfort zone and take chances with my jokes. My sense of humor is bizarre and fantastically twisted, like a slinky with scoliosis practicing yoga. It’s not for most people and I’m actually quite happy about that fact. I’m a weird dude and that isn’t and was never going to change.

Yet, somehow over the course of the past seven years, I have built a small following of like-minded lovely nut cases.

If I’m honest, I still don’t think I deserve what I have after all mistakes I’ve made in my life. I constantly want to throw my ego out of a moving car. But until my time machine is fixed, I can’t change anything except my pants and how much rouge I should apply to my kneecaps.

This is where you come in. If you follow me or followed me or have ever laughed at a joke of mine or shared it or come out when I perform, thank you. I know there are a million different things you could be doing during your days but the fact that you took time out of your life to check out my ridiculous musings means more than words or emojis or a Latino barbershop quartet could ever express.

Thank you. Your kindness has seeped into my soul and all I want to do is give back. You have given me confidence to follow my dreams and I would be nowhere without the support of so many friends and wonderful strangers.

I appreciate you and I don’t say it enough. Thank you a million times. I will try harder to be more vocal with my praise for all you wonderful weirdos.

All I want is to create something that makes you laugh, smile, think, or shit your pantaloons every day for the rest of my life.

I love comedy but I would be nothing without you.

In conclusion: