Shower Cap Adventures!

Hello, friends and weirdos searching for that girl from the “one weird trick to stay asleep all night” ad (we get about 10 search engine hits a day for this one now)! I’m back from my first of three casino shows this month. Wednesday night I was at Black Bear Casino opening for the hilarious Paul Hooper (who you kids in the twin cities can see at the Joke Joint Comedy Club this weekend). Yesterday morning, as I was getting ready to leave the hotel and stealing everything that wasn’t nailed down including but not limited to tiny bottles of shampoo, scratchy towels, single serving packages of coffee and Gideon Bibles –



Placed by the Gideons. Stolen and eaten by Bill Young. That's right. I eat bibles.




I noticed that this hotel provides shower caps. Even before I started going bald I never had my hair long enough to require a shower cap. Frankly, I don’t even know if you can buy these in stores. Maybe shower caps haven’t been used in decades but nobody bothered to tell the hotel industry.


Whatever. I don’t care why they have them but whenever a hotel does provide a shower cap I promptly make sure to wear it.


Why wouldn't you wear a shower cap?




As I packed up my remaining items and got ready to leave, Mr. Hooper knocked on my door. I opened it and told him it’d be just a second. He asked why I was wearing a shower cap and I told him “uhhh… because it’s funny? (see above photo. It is). He agreed but told me he asked in case I had lice or something (which I don’t!). He then dared me to wear it in the casino as we checked out and left. I agreed.


We walked to the front counter, dropped off our key cards and then went to the coffee shop inside the casino. Plenty of people saw the bald guy in a shower cap but nobody batted an eyebrow. I’m not sure if it’s because people hanging out at a casino at 9AM on a Wednesday aren’t exactly self aware or if people think I have a weird medical thing and they’re making an effort to not stare. Either way I’m not getting any the attention that I’m quite plainly craving. I ask to stop at the diner to grab some food to go and we walk all the way to the back of the casino. While we’re at the diner, Hooper ups the ante by suggesting I cry as we walk through the casino back to the car.


I dismiss the idea at first, thinking it’d be too much of a hassle to fake cry for three full minutes but when I get the food and we start walking back I start weeping softly. Squinting, misty eyed and a few sniffles. Hooper is walking a few steps ahead of me and doesn’t even notice I’m crying until we pass a group of people and they just stare at me. He asks if I’m okay, playing along and I say “I just… *sniff* I just, can we go home? I wanna go home”.


Now fully aware of what’s going on, Hooper starts snaking through the casino, trying to walk by as many people as possible as I follow behind, sobbing softly wearing a shower cap and carrying a breakfast sandwich. When we get to the front entrance a double decker bus is parked and and a stream of senior citizens walk into Black Bear, their first sight of their casino journey is that of a grown man walking out crying and wearing a shower cap. Once in the parking lot Hooper looked back and said “Okay, we’re in the clear. You can stop. Seriously, man. Stop it. Please stop crying.”


I’m method. Once you’re in character it’s hard to pull out.

The Casino Buffet.

Since writing about what a goddamn pig I am last week I’ve made some healthier choices so I can get myself back down to “husky” or “stout”. I’ve been doing some cardio most days and yesterday I even chose carrots when I could have just as easily made a giant peanut butter and jelly sandwich and eaten it in the pantry so the wife and boy wouldn’t witness my shame. My stomach growled like a dealer growing impatient with a junkie coming up with excuses on why he doesn’t have any money but I ate those carrots. I ate them and told myself that was enough.


These are baby steps but I had a dozen people tell me after that blog that I can’t go on a diet, I have to change my lifestyle. This isn’t about temporarily cutting something out until I’ve lost the desired amount of weight but actually rewiring how I make decisions regarding food and exercise. It makes sense but changing the way one thinks about something as fundamental as eating isn’t the easiest task. To make it even harder I have three shows in casinos this month.



Casino gigs are usually pretty rough. I’ve done shows in a half dozen casinos and the set up has always been the same. You’re usually performing in the “lounge”. A bar in the middle of the casino that isn’t separated from the casino by any walls so the maddening electronic beeps and dings of slot machines assault you from all sides. The only people hanging out in the lounge are the ones that lost all their money already and are waiting for their friends to finish or the bingo bus to arrive or the cyanide capsule to kick in or whatever. It’s pretty much like that episode of Louie but I don’t get to bang Joan Rivers at the end of the night.


You can't tell by looking at it but in this photo I'm telling jokes at a comedy show. Somebody paid me to do this.




The above picture was taken at a casino bar in Wisconsin. The bar was in the middle of the casino and the walkway was the only way to get from one side of the casino to the other. There was no stage and no stage lights. There was no speaker system in the bar so they hooked the mic up to the PA system for the entire casino. Three people were in the bar my entire set and one had his back turned to me, watching the TV that the bartender didn’t turn off for the show. It was the second worst casino gig I’ve ever performed at.


While casino shows are usually an uphill battle and I normally don’t get my hopes up, sometimes they turn out well. For example, any booking agent for any of my upcoming casino gigs googling my name probably has the best show ever. Whether the show itself is good or bad, there’s always one thing to look forward to performing at a casino. The free buffet –


I feel like I died of a heart attack at a young age and went to fat people heaven!




I normally treat the “all you can eat” suggestion of a buffet as a command to eat until I physically am unable to eat anymore and the casino buffet is no exception. Even the smallest casinos usually have a huge buffet with a giant selection. When eating at a buffet the fat part of my mind and the poor part of my mind get together and I eat as much as possible because the more I eat, the better use I’m making of the money I spent and when the buffet is free it’s like I hit the jackpot. They say the house always wins but I’m fucking Rain Man in the casino buffet. I’ll down three plates before I even hit the dessert and when I do get dessert it’s cake, cookies and ice cream. Maybe a slice of pie, too if they got french silk.


I should mention that when I down three plates of food, these are plates arranged fat guy style. When heaping food onto your plate at the casino buffet you have several options –


Regular People:
A normal person will get a few things at the buffet. Maybe even start out with a salad plate and put salad on it. Then they go for a second trip and get food, something that makes sense like turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy and why the hell not a slice of pizza (these people normally wouldn’t have a slice of pizza with a turkey dinner but it’s a buffet!). Third trip they’ll get a dessert.

Overeaters (people like me):
Salad bar? Fuck that. The only time I’m going to the salad bar is to get some chocolate pudding or ranch dressing to dip my chicken fingers. First trip is to get a sampling of as many things as possible on the plate. Foods that were never meant to touch are plopped right next to each other and if a little gravy gets on the spaghetti, so be it. Second trip is for anything that got left out and a second helping of the favorite from the first plate. Third plate is the cool down round. Something light and maybe something weird that I’ve never tried before. Then as many desserts as possible.

The Vacuums:
There are always people at the casino buffet that make my eating habits look normal. These people probably didn’t even come to gamble unless it’s a metaphorical game of Russian Roulette where the chamber’s their aorta, the bullet is a hunk of fat and the trigger is a pile of honey glazed ham. These are the kind of people that have mathematically worked out how much food they can get on a plate to minimize trips and the energy spent walking. One time I saw a lady balance two plates on the front basket of her Rascal scooter while she held a third in her hands. Another time I saw a guy cover a plate of food with pizza slices and then put food on top of the pizza slices. He used food as a plate to put food on top of other foods. These are the champions. The kind of people whose ranks I could one day join if I make the wrong choices.


Like I said, getting healthier is about changing the lifestyle. If I refuse the casino buffet I’ll probably just end up there in the morning eating 50 sausage links for breakfast. I need to make the decision to go there and not eat “all I can eat” otherwise I’ll end up like pizza plate guy, trying to avoid eye contact with the chef as he cuts up the roast beef. The chef, having seen this plenty of times in his career asks “should I just put it on top of the pizza, sir?”


First casino gig’s tomorrow. I’ll let you know if I used the salad plate for salad.