Please Don't Sexualize My Cat
The worst part about working with comedy writers on a daily basis is that everyone is always “on.”
9am to 6pm. Riffing. Riffing. Riffing. On. On. On.
I’m not into endless riffing. Not that I don’t like to joke around here and there. But I don’t riff like I’m a racehorse hopped up on steroids. I riff when an opportunity presents itself. Some people riff like they are filibustering an abortion bill in Texas.
Remember to breathe between zingers, Brian. Everything will be okay.
There are plenty of times I don’t even wear a specific shirt to the office because I just don’t have the energy to deal with the ensuing riffs it might spur.
Every couple weeks I hear something to the tune of: “Matt, you’re posting a lot of cat pics lately. Are you guys getting engaged?”
A hurrdee-hurr-hurr.
I have to stop myself from saying “No. But that reminds me, are you fucking your kids?”
Next time you make that kind of joke to a cat owner, please know there’s a good chance you are ruining his weekend. He may laugh, but inside he is thinking “maybe putting a dab of tuna salad on my nose and letting my cat lick it off isn’t as wholesome a Friday night activity as I thought it was.”
Side note: Letting your cat lick tuna salad off your nose IS wholesome. There’s nothing sexual about it. It just tickles a little because their tongues are so bristly! But it is firmly not sexual. I repeat. NOT. SEXUAL.
Whitefish salad on the other hand…
NYC Koffoholics: Next week I am putting up a new solo show called “Barbra Streisand Cloned Her Dog.” It’s gonna be a big old schmear of jokes and existential dread.
I will be running it along side a new show from the truly hilarious Nick Naney. It will be a fun night. Come if you like brand new comedy shows that are still covered in afterbirth.