Copyright
Copyright © 2018 by Jim Florentine
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Da Capo Press
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First Edition: February 2018
Published by Da Capo Press, an imprint of Perseus Books, LLC, a subsidiary of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.
ISBNs: 978-0-306-82563-7 (hardcover); 978-0-306-82564-4 (ebook)
E3-20171230-JV-NF
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Foreword by Jim Norton
Epigraph
PART ONE: AWFUL FACEBOOK
Chapter 1 The Education of an Awfulologist
Chapter 2 My First Prank Calls
Chapter 3 Construction Stories
Chapter 4 Strip Club Paradise
Chapter 5 Pranking Like It’s 1999
Chapter 6 Florentine’s Got Talent!
Chapter 7 Crank Yankers: The Early Years
PART TWO: AWFUL CONVERSATIONS
Chapter 8 Crazy Concert Stories
Chapter 9 Snuff Calls
PART THREE: AWFUL RELATIONSHIPS
Chapter 10 Adventures in Home Abortions
Chapter 11 Meet the Creeps
Chapter 12 My First Murder Confession
Chapter 13 That Metal Show
Chapter 14 Acting Awful
The Awful Afterword
Acknowledgments
FOREWORD
“Yuck, what an asshole” was my first thought as I eyed up the guy across the room with long blond hair, ass gripping jeans and snakeskin boots. I was standing with NJ comedy booker Pat Gaynor in 1990, about one month into my comedy career. We were in a Spotswood bar called The Varsity Pub, the place I did my first stand up set. Pat was giving me the rundown on the local open mic scene and suggesting where I might be able to get onstage. “I’m going to introduce you to Jammin’ Jim. He’s a local comic from Old Bridge and will be able to help you get some stage time.” We walked towards the creep in the snakeskin boots, who looked like a Stonehenge rock in a Bette Midler wig.
“Jesus, he has throat cancer” was my second thought as Jim croaked out a “Hey man, what’s going on?” in his trademark gravelly voice. I immediately realized my initial summation of this guy had been completely wrong. He didn’t know me from a hole in the wall (and God knows I’m familiar with those), but he talked to me about comedy and the local scene and started making suggestions as to where I could perform. He gave me his number and told me to get in touch about going on at the Playpen Lounge, a local strip club off Route 9 in New Jersey. Shockingly, a strip club off of Route 9 proved to be an awful place for comedy. I bombed there more often than not, but Jim always had something good to say, he’d always tell people about me and keep me in the loop about local open mics. I had nothing to offer in return, but Jim took care of me anyway. I was extremely unsure and vulnerable in those early days and he took me under his wing (and by wing I mean his giant scrotum) and introduced me to everyone. Most of the bookers hated me, I was doing jokes about fucking my grandmother in church and one of them even thought I was a Nazi.
I had expected him to be an aloof douche and he turned out to be one of the closest and longest lasting friends I’ve ever had in my life. I could write chapters on all of the great times we’ve had. In twenty-seven years, we’ve done countless gigs together, been to concerts together, acted together, pulled trains together, written pilots together, traveled together, lived together as well as seen each other through breakups, deaths and a never-ending list of career flops. So to narrow it down, I figured I’d list a few of the “firsts” I’ve experienced because of or with Jim Florentine.
The first time I got paid for doing comedy was because of Jim. In April of 1991, a local booker (the one who thought I was a Nazi) had a Holiday Inn gig that paid $25. Jim assured him I would do well and keep it fairly clean. Jim lied. I was a pig onstage and I bombed my fucking face off.
The first time I met a girl after a gig was because of Jim. It was some shithole in Connecticut and I was working with Jim and Bob Levy. After the show, a girl who looked mildly retarded was rubbing my leg under the table. I had never been more turned on in my life. It was the first time I might get laid because of comedy. I couldn’t do anything with her due to the fact her brothers, who looked like linebackers on a prison football team, were cockblocking. Jim and Bob tried occupying her brothers by slowly rotating a shiny object in front of them as I attempted to sneak her into the parking lot. We didn’t even need to have sex; I’d have been happy if she just gave me a kiss and threw rocks at my dick. Her brothers stood in the doorway and watched us, which of course ruined everything. On the way home, Jim was driving and Bob Levy was in the passenger seat. I masturbated in the backseat.
The first time I wrote a pilot was with Jim. We had both auditioned for a VH1 pilot called Couch Potatoes and miraculously, we both got it. They liked the idiotic chemistry we had together. The producers had us write all of our dialogue and our story line for the episode. I forget what we wrote, but I remember it was something about how we found the neighbors panties in the dryer and the gay couple upstairs was missing a gerbil. Very highbrow shit.
The first time I was ever in a movie was because of Jim. It was 1996 and the film was called White Chicks Incorporated. (Worst Film Ever Made must have been taken). Jim and Artie Fletcher played two losers who went to a witch doctor (played by white comedian Jeff Pirami). I played a successful, celebrity comedian. I was awful. And so was everyone else. But fuck it, it was a movie and it was my first and it wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for Jim.
The first roommate I ever had was Jim. I lived at home until I was thirty. I was doing stand-up every night, but was spending all my money on prostitutes. I finally moved out of my parent’s house and in with Jim and his girlfriend. We lived in Cliffside Park, New Jersey, and I was so happy to be on my own, I didn’t realize the place was a cesspool. Three of us split $900 a month rent, and I just assumed that all cool bachelor pads were infested with silverfish, had rain water leaking into the living room and black mold openly growing on the walls. It was like living inside the asshole of a wild animal.
The first time I ever had a threesome with a buddy was with Jim. There was a woman I knew who was a really good egg and would have me over after her kids went to bed and blow on the sofa. She had a thing for long hair and one night I just brought Florentine over, figuring she’d be delighted to fellate him. She actually wound up blowing me while Jim had sex with her from behind, because my penis was wilting in shame and I knew if I tried have sex it would be a dismal failure. Jim, the consummate professional, maintained his erection and saved the day. The second guy I brought to see her was Rich Vos. Rich had sex with her an
d then walked outside like an asshole to smoke. She hated him.
The first time I met Ozzy Osbourne was because of Jim. He knew a guy named Frank who worked at MTV and Ozzy was being interviewed by some Russian host. Frank walked us backstage and we looked into the green room and saw Ozzy sitting there. I had no idea how to act, I was completely paralyzed. Jim played it cool and just talked to people like we belonged there and instead of following his cue, I just stood in front of Ozzy’s door and stared at him like Boo Radley. Ozzy walked by us and I actually followed him to the bathroom to ask for an autograph. I didn’t do photos back then, I typically just got people to sign my business card. We finally made it into the green room and as Ozzy is signing my card, Jim grumbled, “Get the picture.” I forgot he even had his camera. We snapped photos of each other with Ozzy, and thus began my twenty-year photo obsession. So for every celebrity who’s had to throw their arm around my sloped shoulders and fake a smile, Jim is the guy to blame.
The first time I ejaculated on a television set was because of Jim. Bob Levy, Jim and myself had done a gig outside of Baltimore. All three of us were sharing a room, Bob the headliner in one bed, Jim and I in the other. (Jim’s generosity once again. Neither of those guys had to let me stay in the room and Jim certainly didn’t have to let me into his bed). After the gig, Jim was out sodomizing some waitress and Bob and I were smoking cigarettes in the room. Bob suggested we jack off on the TV so Jim could see it when he came back. I thought this was a fine idea. Bob went first, (when jerking off on the television, the headliner always goes first) and then I got up to the plate. I had a hard time getting going knowing one of my comedy heroes was laying in the bed behind me passing out with a Marlboro Light in his mouth. I forged ahead and finished. Then… we waited. We waited and smoked and finally, hours later, Jim came back in and saw the two loads on the television. He said, “Beautiful” and went to bed.
I don’t even know where to end this because I love Jim so much and have spent so many of the most important moments of my life with him. There isn’t enough room to write about when we waited on line to meet Black Sabbath, or when we flew to LA and I farted so much the flight attendant spritzed air freshener next to Jim’s seat. Or about us performing at Woodstock 94, when we walked around in the huge performer tent and giggled at the giant penises bulging out of the shorts of the African musicians. Or about the time Jim talked his girlfriend and her friend into urinating on me. Or about the joy Jim expressed when Otto Petersen tracked dogshit into my new car. Unfortunately, this group of sophomoric, idiotic stories must wait to be told another day.
What I can say about Jim is I absolutely would not have made it as a comedian if it weren’t for his friendship. And that no one can talk me off an emotional ledge like Jim Florentine. He is brilliantly funny and 100 percent original. Jim is probably the most genuine person I’ve ever met and has undoubtedly contributed more to my life than I have to his.
JIM NORTON
October 2017
Any woman that uses the word kiddos doesn’t like to fuck.
—JIM FLORENTINE (2016)
PART ONE
AWFUL FACEBOOK
CHAPTER ONE
THE EDUCATION OF AN AWFULOLOGIST
I’m a simple man trying to live in a complicated world. Most days, all I want to do is maintain my peace of mind. But, that’s hard as hell when everything I consider normal has flipped on its head.
All the rules have changed. Now, people broadcast their lives over the Internet instead of living them. Relationships are formed and lived out in cyberspace instead of real time. Conversations are had on smartphones where anyone with a shred of social media muscle can censor and troll you if they don’t like what you are saying.
Let’s face it; there isn’t much room for a simple life anymore!
It’s fucking brutal!
Being at odds with the way things are has caused me headaches, but it’s also the source of almost everything I find funny. Believe me, there is a lot of awful shit that should not be. In a strange way, the stuff that frustrates the hell out of me has been the source of my comedy.
In fact, there are so many awful things to make fun of I’ve made a living out of it!
If you’ve followed my career, been to my shows, or heard my podcasts, you know I have fun raging against stupid shit. Sometimes the shit I deal with ruins my day but you guys enjoy me going off on it so it’s all good.
That may be the silver lining! Laughing about our complicated world makes it easier to accept.
I wrote Everybody Is Awful for people like you. I know how annoyed you are with the drama in your life. I also know it’s hard to find the humor in the bullshit awful people bring to our lives, but there is always something to laugh about when you look hard enough. Especially when you look at social media, or the crazy things that happen in relationships, or the stupid conversations we are forced to have throughout our day.
That’s what this book is about!
I started the book by writing down the craziest stories from my career. While I was cataloging those insane moments, I discovered a backlog of frustration I needed to get off my chest. It’s no surprise there was enough material to fill a whole book, the one you’re now holding.
In the following pages, I’m going to ridicule the jerk-offs that foul up our good day.
I’m going to prove to you that everyone (except you) is truly awful! Laugh along as I rant and rave.
Maybe, if we’re lucky, you’ll learn to spot awful people and awful trends like the ice bucket challenge, Pokémon, or a new dumb Facebook game and avoid them at all costs. Maybe that will be enough to reclaim some peace of mind. Or, maybe that simple life will always be elusive, but if that’s true, at least we can have some laughs while we look for it!
The Catholic Kid Goes Rogue
To start things off, let’s go back to the beginning. I was an awful kid. How did I turn out this way? That’s the big question.
Well, I’ve done about five minutes of serious analysis on this subject and I’m pretty sure it’s my parents’ fault. As a kid, my parents were super religious. While raising me, they had to depend on their faith and constantly prayed for divine intervention. You see, they had seven kids to raise and wanted to give us the best of everything.
Making sure we had a good education was important to my parents. Because they were Catholic, they made an unfortunate assumption that the local Catholic school could set me on the path to becoming a priest. There was one big problem with that—I don’t like little boys.
Honestly, why does any parent think a school full of Catholic priests can offer a better education than a regular school? For instance, the school I attended had priests teaching sixth-grade math. How is a priest an expert in any subject other than religion?
Does counting how many kids you’ve touched give you special math skills?
How can a priest learn new math theories when they have so many inappropriate back rubs to give out? What would his math theory be? If I touch ten kids and no one says anything, did I really touch anyone?
Also, there was another reason I wanted to escape Catholic schools. All my friends were getting touched and the priests left me alone. I felt left out in a weird kind of way. Like most kids my age, I wanted to be with the rest of my friends, and they attended the local public school down the street. I begged my parents to transfer me but they wouldn’t budge. So, since I couldn’t get my way I rebelled—against everything!
There wasn’t a rule I didn’t bend, and there wasn’t a piece of school property I didn’t break! If that didn’t work, I’d break the broken stuff until I was banished to the principal’s office.
This resulted in me being grounded all the time. Most teenagers would love to be confined to their room so they could masturbate until they needed a life raft to float out of their room. For me, sex was the last thing on my mind because I was going to burn in hell if I did that. I treated my dick like it was a loaded gun. I was so afraid that even when I h
ad to piss I’d try not to hold it because I was afraid it would go off accidentally. Making prank calls is all I wanted to do. Instead of studying or doing homework, I would use the landline in my room to practice my pranks.
I had no idea that my creepy misbehavior was forming the building blocks of a successful career. With an old rotary phone and a seriously demonic, I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude I was in the early stages of mastering my craft. I had just turned eleven years old, and I was on the way to becoming a professional comedian.
ANNOYING AIRPLANE ANNOUNCEMENTS
I just got off a flight going to Las Vegas. During the flight, the pilot gave us four different updates on the weather. I don’t care about the weather when I go to Vegas. When I go there I go to drink, gamble on football games, and hope I have enough gas money to fill up my rent-a-car so I can drive out to the Bunny Ranch.
I don’t care if the winds are six miles per hour out of the northwest. I’m not going to Vegas to fly a kite. Stop giving me an update on the weather!
At noon, we got the update:
“It’s eighty-seven degrees and sunny right now in Las Vegas, I’ll give you another update in an hour.”
Why?
Why are you going to give me another update? What’s it going to be, ninety in a couple of hours?
It doesn’t make a difference. It’s Vegas. It’s August.
It’s going to be fucking hot!
Part One: Awful Facebook
Facebook is fucking awful!
Does Facebook have any redeemable qualities? Does it do any good or just waste our time? For the most part, it fucking stinks! People are either bragging or looking for sympathy.
Pick a random place in your news feed and start reading, I guarantee that 99 percent of what you read will be meaningless junk news or annoying status updates, the kind that make you want to demolish your laptop with a sledgehammer.
Everybody Is Awful_Except You! Page 1