Tag: michael martin

RISK podcast

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

I got to tell a story at the RISK storytelling show a few weeks ago.

It was fun, and full of awesome, interesting people – including handsome, hilarious comic Sheng Wang.

I was worried about how my story would go, because it involved running around naked with my brother in a rain storm, and giving myself an enema in the front yard after taunting the neighbors. But the audience loved it – it killed!

RISK! is a live show and podcast “where people tell true stories they never thought they’d dare to share in public” hosted by Kevin Allison, of the legendary TV sketch comedy troupe The State. The award-winning live show happens monthly in New York and Los Angeles.

Notorious Rice Queen Kevin Allison

It’s featured people like Janeane Garofalo, Lisa Lampanelli, Kevin Nealon, Margaret Cho, Marc Maron, Sarah Silverman, Lili Taylor, Rachel Dratch, Andy Borowitz and more, dropping the act and showing a side of themselves we’ve never seen before. The weekly podcast gets hundreds of thousands of downloads each month. Slate.com called it “jaw-dropping, hysterically funny, and just plain touching.”

I’m on this week’s podcast with one of my heroes – comedy goddess Kerri Kenny-Silver.  She is hilarious and if you don’t know of her, you’re an asshole.

You can download my episode of the podcast here.

Just to warn you, I do talk about giving myself an enema in public, and shooting a turd out of my butt like a poop cannon. You’re welcome, Mom and Dad.

Enjoy the RISK podcast.

Jerks.

Thanks Old Faggot – Part Two

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Him: So tell me a little about yourself?

Me: What do you want to know?

Him: Well, why do you meet people online who are clearly lying about their age?

Me: Well. I write about it. I had a string of painful, awkward dates about a year and a half ago, and I started writing about it. People starting reading. Now, when I come across someone online who seems angry, self important, or blatantly deceptive -no offense…

Him: None taken…

Me: Instead of ignoring or blocking those people, I go out with them and write about my experiences with them.

Him: I’m not sure I like that.

Me: I’m not sure I asked for your approval.

Him: That’s why. That’s why I don’t like it.

Me: What do you mean?

Him: You’re being glib. Sarcastic.

Me: Do you think?

Him: I do. I think it’s a real problem with your generation. You roll your eyes at everything and you’re terrified of any sort of genuine human interaction.

Me: Doesn’t this particular interaction – me sitting with you on this park bench – prove your theory wrong? Isn’t this a genuine human interaction?

Him: Well it would be, except you have the ulterior motive of wanting material for your blog.

Me: And you have the ulterior motive of wanting to sleep with me.

Him: No I don’t.

Me: Come home with me and give me a blowjob.

Him: Okay.

Me: SEE!

Him: Okay fine, I concede that you’re right about that. But where did you meet me?

Me: On Grindr.

Him: Exactly! A site for guys to meet each other because they want to hook up…

Me: So?

Him: So – who’s worse? Me, the horny, dishonest old man?? Or you, the good-looking young liar?

Me: Jeez, Old Faggot – can’t we BOTH be awful people?

Him: HAHA. We can…

Me: And thanks for the compliments. You’re a handsome guy yourself.

Him: Thanks, can I put my hand in your lap?

Me: Twenty years ago you can.

Him: What an asshole.

(pause)

Him: So why?

Me: Why what?

Him: Why put yourself in these awful situations? What do you gain from it?

Me: I don’t know. I like writing about things that are true…

Him: Don’t give me that horseshit. You’re being sarcastic.

Me: I’m not! I’m just saying it sarcastically!

(pause)

Him: So you started writing why?

Me: To process stuff. I was in a long relationship that ended. About a year went by with me being single. Then I started dating again. People were awful. Defensive. Petty. Small. I wanted to write about it. Kept me from getting depressed. After a while though, I started seeking out people because they seemed a little off. It got alienating. I don’t know exactly why I’ve kept doing it. I’m compelled to, somehow.

Him: Ugh.

Me: What?

Him: Just…  Your generation.

Me: What?

Him: You guys all feel shy, and alienated, and lonely, and yet you’re so very hyper-connected. It’s narcissistic. Everyone is squawking constantly, but nobody is listening. Nobody cares. And worse – you don’t just urgently need to communicate your awkwardness or your ironic detachment – you guys fetishize it.  

Me: I’m not sure I’d go that far.

Him: I would! What is an American Apparel ad, if not fetishizing awkwardness?

Me: Uh…  It’s…

Him: Or what about those movies by P.T. Anderson?

Me: … Boogie Nights?

Him: No, that’s a great film. I mean like Rushmore and the other one…

Me: Royal Tenenbaums?

Him: Ugh. Awful. So coy, and precious, and ironic…

Me: So you mean Wes Anderson.

Him: I guess. He’s all the things about your generation I don’t understand. He fetishizes that alienation you were talking about. He urges the rest of you to indulge in this glorification of the uncomfortable. Life doesn’t have to be so labored and ungraceful, you know. We used to just call it ‘going on a bad date,’ and it happened every once in a while, but we didn’t react by being glib or sarcastic on the next date. That was considered rude. We certainly didn’t write about it for the world to read.

Me: Okay fine. I get it. You don’t approve.

Him: I don’t.

Me: Well then don’t read.

Him: I certainly won’t.

(pause)

Me: You know. You spent a lot of time calling me indelicate. But that doesn’t explain why you think I’m interesting enough to sit here and waste the afternoon with. Stop looking at my dick. It’s nothing special.

Him: It looks pretty nice, through your pants.

Me: Thanks Old Faggot.

Him: Can I ask you one more question?

Me: Sure. But you have to wait until Part Three.

Him: Why?

Me: I rarely blog more than 800 words.

Him: Why?

Me: It’s self indulgent, Jerk.

Thanks, Old Faggot – Part One

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Him: Hello there. Are you Michael?

Me: That’s right… Are you –

Him: Ed. Edward.

Me: Which is it?

Him: Ha. I dunno. Whatever you like. It’s Ed at work, but I’m Edward to most of my friends.

(pause)

Him: So…

Me: Yes?

Him: Don’t get mad, but you’re better looking in person than on Grindr.

Me: Thanks. I’m not mad, by the way. I don’t think it’s rude. I’m intentionally less attractive on Grindr and OkCupid.

Him: Why?

Me: I want to be a pleasant surprise, rather than an immediate disappointment.

Him: Oh no!

Me: No. NO. Stop, Edward. I was speaking only for myself.

Him: But I don’t look like my Grindr profile, do I?

(pause)

Me: No, Edward. You don’t. But that’s totally okay. Okay?

Him: Yikes. Why don’t you be brutally honest?

Me: Edward. Your Grindr profile says you’re 35.

Him: How old do I look?

Me: How old is that photo?

Him: Guess how old I am.

Me: 45?

Him: Ha. I’m 51.

Me: Jesus.

Him: Is that old?

Me: No. But it’s older than 35.

Him: I know. Sorry.

Me: Don’t be sorry. It’s fine. Sit down and talk to me.

Him: Okay…

(pause)

Him: You, uh…  You don’t seem that disappointed or surprised by this turn of events… People are usually relatively put out.

Me: Why’s that?

Him: Because they think they’re going out with a significantly younger man.

Me: Then why do it? Why post old photos of yourself and meet up with younger people?

(pause)

Him: That’s complicated. A lot of reasons.

Me: Well… What are a few of those reasons?

Him: I didn’t have a lot of gay friends when I was younger. They were all straight. Now they’ve all got children, and lives, and some even have grand-kids at this point. I’m lonely. I miss being young. I like spending time with young people.

Me: And sleeping with them.

Him: Well, most of them don’t want to sleep with me, and I don’t blame them – but lots of them will spend some time with me, and I like that. And yes, some of them don’t care and will take pity on an Old Faggot.

Me: Ha. I like that…

Him: What?

Me: The way you say it – Old Faggot. Like a title.

Him: Well.  I started sleeping with guys when I was 16. I’ve been a faggot for 35 years.

Me: That’s an Old Faggot.

Him: Thank you. So, Michael?

Me: Edward.

Him: Why did you seem so unfazed by my appearance-slash-age?

Me: Uh…  I kind of guessed it – that you were Secretly Old.

Him: Secretly Old?

Me: Yes. Hiding your age online.

Him: I don’t get it? Do you like old guys?

Me: I wouldn’t say so specifically. I mean, most of the guys I sleep with are under 40. There have been exceptions, but mostly I keep it my age and younger.

Him: So why meet up with me, if you knew I wasn’t being forthcoming about my age?

Me: I do that, sometimes. I meet up with people online that seem off-beat, or troubled, or lonely.

Him: Why?

Me: I write a blog about it. About awkward dates.

Him: I see. So do you want to go back to my place and have sex, Young Man?

Me: I do not. But maybe we can sit on this bench and watch people go by and chat with one another?

Him: That sounds lovely.

(pause)

Him: Can I say? You seem very kind and intelligent.

Me: Thanks, Old Faggot. So do you.

Him: You’re welcome Young Man.

Advice

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

eryc perez de tagle

Hey I love your blog and I found it on Google. I do need advice cause I have issues that are bothering me. My bf and I (or I should say hubby – we did a little wedding in France but that does not count here) have been together since I was 11 and he was 15. 

I am 21 now but I feel like he is still treating me like the kid that I was. I know that I am not as strong as he is and not as masculine, but I feel like that should not mean that I can’t be independent, right? He won’t let me stand up for myself and if someone offends me he always gets my battles for me, or sends his friends to do it.

I recently graduated but now he won’t let me look for work he is saying that the economy is not good now and I will be under payed. I feel kept and useless and I don’t like it. But I am scared to bring it up cause he gave me a good spanking one time when I disobeyed him.

What should I do? I feel like its my fault this has gone this way. I got a tattoo when I was 14 saying ‘owned by (first ,last name)’. What should I do? Please help?

JJ

Hey J.J.,

I think you realize how abusive and controlling and manipulative this relationship is, right? He beats you. He gives you orders. He’s been having sex with you since before you even went through puberty. This relationship is no good.

Why do you think he really doesn’t want you working? I suspect you already know – it’s because the idea of you being self sufficient terrifies him. It’s the same reason he fights your battles for you. He needs you to need him. It’s a co-dependent power struggle. And, J.J. – you’re not without your role in this. It takes two people to dance this dance, buddy.

I think it’s time to break the pattern. I think you know it’s time, otherwise you wouldn’t be reaching out to a stranger asking for help. You’re becoming a man, and you want to establish your own identity. But up until now, your identity has been ‘property of so-and-so.’ You owe it to yourself to explore who you are as an individual, and you’ll never be able to get that done if you stay with this man.

It’s arguable that he’s been molesting you since you were 11 years old. I’m not sure what the legality of the issue is, but I know there’s a huge difference between 11 and 15. This guy’s been in your head since you were a child. Half your life. You’ve got to get yourself out of this situation.

This isn’t love. This is a cycle of abuse you’re participating in. He’s never going to change, or treat you differently, or realize that you’re powerful. If you try to get him to recognize your independence I suspect he’ll become violent again. He’s already manipulative and controlling. And he’s ‘spanked’ you once? That’s straight up domestic abuse.

Get yourself out of the situation. Stay with family, or friends. Or go to a domestic abuse shelter if you’re able. Get out, and stay away from this man. He’s not a good man. He might be sexy, and charming, but he sounds like a sociopath. I know you think you love him, but if you look really deeply into that feeling, don’t you have to admit that it’s based on fear? Sure it is. It’s because he’s tricked you into thinking you need him. You don’t.

Get away from him. Own yourself. Otherwise you’ll never be the man you want to be. And that’s a terrible thing to have to live with.

Post Racial

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

eryc perez de tagle

I keep hearing people talk about how we’re living in a ‘post racial’ society. That racism somehow isn’t relevant to the younger generations. Man, I wish that was true. Wouldn’t that be great?

Here’s some snippets from a recent conversation I had on Grindr.

The guy who was chatting with me is significantly younger than me.

I think it’s safe to say this guy isn’t living in a “post racial” America.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking. It’s an attractive idea: a society where race no longer matters to anyone in any way, shape or form.

A friend of mine recently pointed something out. Whenever you hear people talking about ‘post racial’ America, it’s almost always a white person. You don’t hear a lot of people of color going around giving lip service to that idea.

I  wanted to hear more of this guys crazy, awful opinions. I wanted to write about him here, and start some sort of dialogue about race and the gay community.

I think he got wise to me, though. He was less enthusiastic about meeting me the next day. Maybe he was embarrassed about the idiotic things he’d said via Grindr. Or, maybe he checked out my blog from my profile, and realized that if he met me, I’d do my best to make him look like a Jerk.

It wouldn’t have been difficult. He did a good job of making himself a Jerk.

The Lonely One

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

I like seeing the middle aged Chinese man in the window when I’m walking home at night. He’s usually cooking in the blond lady’s kitchen. Pots and pans and sieves, all hanging around him as he tends to this or that.

I used to work as a local barkeep. The middle aged Chinese man was a regular customer, drinking whiskey and craft beers. He worked in IT, odd hours, which meant he could do things like hang out in local dive bars until very late. He knew lots of little facts about a lot of things and he was respectful. He tipped well, and brought in food he’d made at home. I probably bought him more drinks than I should’ve.

At the time he was single. And lonely. He walked with a limp, and carried a cane. My boyfriend, who also worked at the local bar, used to sit with him until very late. We drank beer, and ate his homemade beef jerky, or scallion pancakes.

Sometimes we would talk about him at home. I would worry. He seemed alienated. My boyfriend would shake his head at me and then touch my face.

“You think about other people too much,” he would say to me. “That’s one of the reasons why I love you.”

That was lifetimes ago. I don’t work at the local bar anymore, and I barely even nod at the middle aged Chinese man as he walks down the street with his cane, and his girlfriend.

Still. I see him. I monitor his happiness. He lives in the apartment building next to mine now, with the blond lady who’s lived there forever, quietly assembling an impressive kitchen. Pots and pans and sieves – all hanging around them, as they tend to this or that.

I’m not a big part of their life or anything.

But I like seeing the middle aged Chinese man in the window, when I’m walking home at night. I like seeing her come into frame, from time to time, and peek over his shoulder. I like seeing him fish out a morsel or a scrap for her to savor. I like seeing them happy, together.

Even if I’m the one who’s lonely now.

Letters

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

eryc perez de tagle

Him: I’ve been following your blog for awhile now, not only because I enjoy reading it, but because I think I’ve projected a fantasy onto you and admire you for everything I am not – handsome, talented, comfortable with their own body, freely pursuing their passion. I admire someone who is not afraid to put themselves out there – mentally and physically (in your case, literally, via photos). Do you have any advice for someone that has pretty low self esteem on how to get a shred of that? Also, any workout tips would be appreciated.

– clue do

Me: Hey Clue.

I need you to listen to me for a second, okay? Are you listening?

You’re beautiful.

I know you are. I’ve never seen you or met you but I know you’re beautiful. You might not be everyone’s type, but trust me- there are people in your life who already stand in awe of you.  I know that. You’re unique and perfect and beautiful.

And I know how you can become more beautiful:

Identify your passion, and pursue it.

Stop listening to the reasons why you can’t succeed. That critical inner voice that says you can’t do it? That voice is the devil. It’s the closest thing to pure evil on this planet.

Don’t compare yourself to other people.

Most people who feel inadequate have a little mental list of people who have done more, achieved more, are better looking, more talented, or deserve more than they do. Keep things in perspective. Even huge movie stars have a list of artists they think they’ll never measure up to.

(In Anna Paquin’s case, that list must be very, very long.)

(we can still see your vagina, anna)

Realize that everyone’s just faking it.

All these photos you see of me running around my kitchen with cute boys in the gorgeous late afternoon light? Carefully staged. I’m a guy who constantly doubts himself, too. I’m faking it as much as Meryl Streep, Barack Obama, or your mailman. We’re all faking it. But if you start behaving like someone who believes in themselves, eventually you trick yourself into having moments where you actually do believe in yourself. Then after a few years, you forget why you were terrible in the first place.

Work.

There’s not much we can do to alter our circumstances, besides working. Some people were born rich, good looking, unnaturally talented. Good for them. The rest of us have to work at it. Identify the thing you love, or are passionate about, and go for it. Don’t expect to master it overnight. Just take the slow steps you need to take for your passion to flower. Work toward goals. Set attainable ones. When you attain them, set loftier ones.

You might not wind up getting what you want, but I guarantee – the very act of pursuing a goal will take you places that astound you. You’ll never believe how much good fortune you have if you work every day toward a simple goal.

I never met anyone who was ‘lucky’ that didn’t work their ass off.

Oh, also – if you want to be more ‘cut’ then lift weights. Free weights. Not machines. Aim for five days a week, and be happy when you go four days. Get mad if you’re only doing three. If you want to slim down, then do cardio. Run outside, or swim. Again, try five days a week.

Aw. Clue. You’re adorable. I want to find a way to end this post where I call you a Jerk, but I just like you too much to do that.

Jerk.

See? I did it anyway. Sorry.

You’re Welcome

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

lex millena

Him: Wow. You’re a busy guy.

Me: You’re busy too! It took us months to find some common time. You look good, by the way.

Him: You’re welcome.

Me: Haha. Thanks for looking so good.

Him: I told you – you’re welcome.

Me: So you did. You said you had a doctor’s appointment?

Him: Sort of. Chiropractor.

Me: I agree.

Him: With what?

Me: A Chiropractor is a ‘sort of’ doctor.

Him: Stop! I really like my Chiropractor.

Me: Hm. Got a little crush on him?

Him: Shut up. He’s such a bro, though.

Me: Bro?

Him: Yeah. He’s a ‘hey bro’ type of guy.

Me: I gather you love that.

Him: Yeah, that’s why I play in the gay sports leagues. I like bromance.

Me: You’re hilarious.

Him: I’m worried though.

Me: Why?

Him: He said that he was going to cancel our appointment next week. He doesn’t think I need to see him every single week.

Me: Isn’t that good news?

Him: What? No! It means he’s breaking up with me.

Me: That’s hilarious. Do you really  think that?

Him: What else could it mean?

Me: That you’re getting better?

Him: Yeah, maybe… See – I’m neurotic.

Me: Only a little. Still – that does seem like a Seinfeld plot.

Him: What does?

Me: My Chiropractor Is Breaking Up With Me. Sounds like a Seinfeld episode.

Him: Who watches Seinfeld?

Me: Comedy nerds?

Him: Do you know comedy nerds?

Me: I kind of am one.

Him: Comedy nerds don’t look like you.

Me: You’re welcome?

Him: What?

Me: I was repeating your joke from earlier. Never mind.

(pause)

Me: You’re thinking about your chiropractor, aren’t you?

Him: It’s just, why wouldn’t he want to see me every week? My insurance pays for it.

Me: Listen, if I was being paid an exorbitant amount of money every week to give you a back rub, I’d totally schedule more appointments – not less. Who is this guy?

Him: You’re sweet. Maybe you should be my chiro.

Me: I’m available. I’m only a few hundred dollars an hour.

Him: It’s really bothering me, though.

Me: Would you say you care about other people’s opinions too much?

Him: Yes! I’m totally neurotic about what people think of me.

Me: Oh no. That must suck.

Him: It does. I’m worried about what you’re thinking about me right now.

Me: I’m thinking you’re adorable.

Him: You’re welcome.

Me: Thank you.

(pause)

Me: I think I have the opposite problem…

Him: How so?

Me: I think I don’t care enough what people think of me.

Him: Really?

Me: Yeah. I’m super self absorbed. I had an improv teacher once say “The only absolute in life is your own opinion.” That stuck with me over the years, maybe too much.

Him: That’s a good quote though. I wish I could think that way.

Me: I do think that way, but I wonder if I might be a little bit more successful if I desperately needed to please other people.

Him: Maybe it’s more about you.

Me: Hm?

Him: Do you please yourself, ever?

Me: I’m happy with certain things. Milestones, or accomplishments. But even when I do a really good job in a show or at an audition, I still feel mildly dissatisfied.

Him: Maybe that’s the trick – pleasing yourself.

Me: That’s a very astute observation.

Him: We should order. I want oysters.

Me: This restaurant is great, by the way. You made a good selection.

Him: You’re welcome.

You’re the Jerk, Jerk

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

photos by tommy kha

Him: Do you intentionally go on dates with people that you think you’re more intelligent than to make yourself look better when you write about it online? I’m serious. You come off as so holier-than-thou you’re either embellishing – or at least altering to your advantage – much of these conversations, or you go out of your way to find idiots to make fun of to your readers on the internet. It was funny the first few reads, but it’s just the same old bad date where “Him” doesn’t have any social tact or depth, and “Me” is completely grounded, sane, and level-headed. Is this a self-esteem thing? It really is starting come off as “look at how great I am! Can you believe I keep going on these dates with such duds?!” Do you go on any good dates? Are these just the bad ones? Look, I don’t mean to be an asshole. You seem like a cool guy. You seem interesting, you’re hot, you’re funny, and I bet you make delicious food, but to be frank, you’re really starting to come off as a big jerk, Jerk.

Me: Andrew, you really have to work on your flirting skills… Still, it’s flattering…

Him: I figured that’s the type of response I’d get, seeing as how what I wrote wasn’t some two-dimensional middle-school comment criticizing something on your bookshelf. But I’ll take it as a sort of affirmation: you’re a jerk.

Me: Andrew, what you wrote was an out and out attack that I didn’t feel deserved a serious response. I don’t understand what type of reaction you were trying to trigger by calling me a bunch of names? I blog about awkward dates and cringe-worthy situations – it’s right at the top of my web page. If you don’t like it, best just to close the site rather than attack me for it.

Where do you blog online? I’d like to read what you write, make personal assumptions about you, and criticize your choices.

Oh wait, no I wouldn’t. But if you’d like to go on a date…

Him: I didn’t call you names, nor did I attack you. I stated how you are coming off to me in these re-caps of your dates, and asked you questions about them. Don’t put something on the internet – let alone allow people to comment about it – if you can’t handle criticism or give a dignified response.

I’m not even criticizing you for writing about your awkward dates. I think that’s a funny premise. My only criticism comes from how extremely one-sided the awkwardness seems in every single post. It’s like the entire time you’re rolling your eyes, or winking to the audience, throughout the re-cap. I’m sure I’m not the first to wonder why you’re consistently going on so many awful dates that you seem over or better than before they even begin.

I don’t have a blog myself, but if I did and I wrote about something as personal as you do in the way in which you write, I would expect personal assumptions, criticism (both constructive and not) and yes, the occasional attack (which I still believe is not what I did).

Me: I’m not surprised that you don’t have a blog yourself. Some people find it easier to criticize the work of others than to actually put themselves out there in a real way. You called me holier-than-thou, and implied that I suffer from self esteem issues, no? That’s what I meant when I said you were name calling and attacking.

I’m a little confused. You say you like the premise, but then complain when I execute the premise. That seems like an odd complaint. So, you think my postings are a little one sided? Okay, fine, but I’m not naming these people or showing photographs of them. I’m not harming anyone by writing this. Me blogging about the dates in a ‘one-sided’ way is the equivalent of me telling my pals over brunch about an awful date I had last night. Who’s side am I supposed to tell but my own?

Am I intentionally going out with people who seem awkward, defensive, or lacking in social skills? Absolutely. That’s what I write about, after all. That’s my currency. Do I think I’m better than them, or smarter than them? Nope. I just write about the awkward, cringe-worthy things they wind up saying to me.

I’m not going to apologize for expressing myself on my own website. I get that you don’t like it, but I’m flattered that you’re reading.

Andrew, this really is the most convoluted way anyone’s ever asked me on a date. Sheesh.

Wanna know more about the redhead with the side boob?

She’s doing a hilarious show at Upright Citizen’s Brigade called Naked People.