Jasen Fredrickson

I haven’t really left the room today.  It seems that Mississauga is right outside this hotel, all around it.  I’m not sure how it happened, but it’s out there.  Personally I don’t have anything really against Missisauga, but I really don’t have anything about Mississauga that inspires me either.  Let’s call it a draw.  I’ll Forrest Gump this leg of the tour.  When I’m hungry, I’ll eat.  When I’m tired I’ll sleep.  When I have to do stand up, I’ll go do stand up.  And I’ll run everywhere I go wearing my shirt buttoned all the way up.

Blech.  Not much to add.  Thursdays.  Thursdays make me want to gnash my teeth. GNASH!  GNASH!  THURSDAY!  GNASH!

I have pictures of stuff, I have to get home to upload them, I left the cable there.  Home. It has such a nice ring to it.  Home. Such juxtiposition against “Thursday” and it’s cold embrace.

I think Mississauga is a nice place.  I can see it from here.  There’s a window in the room.  I don’t have anything at all to write, and yet I continue.  It’s one of the many hazards of connecting to the internet.  You’re there, may as well spew off rambling senseless crap.  Maybe go off and read someone else’s rambling senseless crap.  Maybe I can buy some senseless crap.  Just get online, send off a couple emails about some senseless crap that someone forwarded to me.

Ramble ramble ramble…GNASH!

Man, and it’s FRIDAY, not Thursday.  This is what Thursday’s do to you.  Damn that Thor.  Damn his day.

GNASH!

Oh yeah.  I met mark Mckinney yesterday.  Nice kid.

Yesterday went well, more Toronto covered.  After the sushi, coffee, and a nap I did a spot at the downtown Yuk Yuks.  It’s refreshing to see that Wednesday crowds are as amazing as back in Calgary.  Yessir, a raucous bunch who didn’t let up laughter until the night was over.  They continued their applause for what seemed an eternity.  Wolf whistles, panties thrown at the stage, people passing out…

Yep, it was something else.

So after we got down from being carried around on people’s shoulders we headed over to Spirits.  I got five minutes stage time later in the evening where the people, my god the people.  There must have been five hundred people crammed into there.  How could I NOT go on with them chanting my name.  I thought for sure it was a fire hazard, but apparently some people had camped out for several days just to see me.  Well, I’m not one to disappoint.  Dan Gordon warmed them up sufficiently, I didn’t know if I could follow – they just wouldn’t let him leave the stage.  My dear God, the love that was shared!

…and then we ate polish sausages from some meat selling guy.

Second day in Toronto – filled with sarcasm.

The shows went well.  It’s an underrated feeling, “well”.  It’s like having a nice tall glass filled with lukewarm water.  Not bad, but it’s kinda feels like drinking piss without the salty

The weekend approaches.

So this is Toronto.

I’m well into my second day here having had an odd experience eating sushi with Peter Anthony.  There is a place near his where they make some outstanding dishes. The service was complete with a poor waiter who had literally just got off the boat; we actually helped him with his bags.  The guy was super nice and the food was fantastic, it could have only been better if he had a clue what we were trying to order.  We wanted to share a plate with the regular assortment of fish flesh, underwater foliage, green hot paste, and rice.  The confusing part was the soup and salad that came with the order.  Peter in his maniacal state, asked nonchalantly to magically turn the soup into a salad as well so we could both enjoy the exact same meal.  What was he thinking?  What kind of person does this?  It made no sense, what did we want again?  Four salads?  Of course.  That had to be it.  So the polite, bespectacled waiter sloshed off in his still drying, ocean water soaked shoes to get us four salads.  This is exactly what we wanted after all.  I won’t mention what happened what happened when I asked for water AND green tea for both of us…and the ‘jug’ of water request from Peter.

He got a nice tip, I’m not a dick.

After the crazy night at the airport waiting for my flight to Toronto, all is more that I could expect. < I hitched a ride with my father in law at about 10:00pm being my flight didn’t leave until 6:00 am, I had to be there for 5:00am, whoever would have given me a ride in the morning would have had to be up at about 4:30am.  No good.  Think about getting an 8.99 month pregnant woman (a very hot and sexy woman may I add) out of bed, heartburn, ongoing cough due to cold and all.  Get the same pregnant (hot and sexy) woman to wake up the two year old, who is ALWAYS pleasant when he low on sleep, get ready and drive daddy to the airport.  Doesn’t that sound like fun?  So I went with a night at the airport.  I am lucky my day job has a good drug plan.  That’s all I’m saying about that.

Question: Are airports always under construction?

Peter gave me the quick and dirty tour of Toronto.  I think tours of Toronto are probably always dirty, regardless of the time spent.  After eagerly piling into a double fistful of spicy East Indian Roti and a damaging round of Texas Hold ’em with Peter’s roommate Christian Hopson and their buddy, Eric Bowden (both goodfellas), Peter and I went off to the Underground Garage.  It was pretty empty at 10:00pm.  We were the first there. Very pubby with low light ambience, Polaroid’s as wallpaper, an amorous aromatic mix of nutty beer and bleach cleaned hardwood floors, with the piece de resistance of misplaced bras lining the bar ceiling.  Sort of a slut couture I suppose.  But it wasn’t a sleaze place, don’t get me wrong, the only sleaze would have been the newly jiggle tatted skink (skank plural) who did NOT make any appearances that I could smell.  I wonder what those poor sluts wake up to the next day after something like that. “Jesus.  What happened last night?  Who are you…and you…and you…what is that taste in my mouth?  It tastes like day old stale pickled ass.  AND WHERE IS MY BRA?!?  Whew, that’s right, I took it off at the bar when it got all itchy and respectable.  What is that shoved up my…?”

What would have been an early night turned into a rocking eve with the advent of the comedic contingent. John Dore, Tim Rabnutt, and Steve Dylan Patterson made the grand entrance forever changing my Toronto experience.  “Of all the bars…”  Maybe it was the microphones.  Maybe it was the demonic rhythms pulsating from the jam session, maybe it was the incessant cajoling of Peter, but Freddy brought out the ‘no harmonica’ harmonica.  The backup accompaniment took a 180 at the realization that no one was doing vocals.  I tore into a fifteen minute song I call “Done Too Much”.  An eloquent and universal hymn singing the praises of going way the f*ck overboard.

Toronto rocks.

Revelation: Frozen orange juice mix should ONLY be prepared in a blender.

Day one point five…done.

I was told Carson was immortal!  This is garbage.  The king of late night…gone…and I don’t mean Conan O’Brien.  Conan’s not gone is what I mean, he is the new reigning king, no offence to Letterman.  I have no comment about Leno. And poor McMahon…and I don’t mean Vince.  First Arsenio Hall is bastardizing Star Search with “showmedemdigits” and now this?  I think Eddie’s waiting for the TV’s Bloopers and Practical Jokes crew to show him the hidden cameras.

When I was a kid, I didn’t know that the Tonight Show was anything but Johnny Carson.  I had no knowledge of anyone before and I was astonished that they would continue with anyone different after.  Johnny Carson IS late night talk show, anything else is just comparison.

Links on Johnny:
Johnny Carson’s web site
CNN
The Guardian
MSNBC

Man, I have REALLY been getting the gears for not updating my web page more often.  It seems I have a high level of life enrichment.  Some people say that they need to drink more water, eat more vegetables, maybe study a new language…then there are those that need more Freddy in their life.  To some I am a cool drink of water and I taste better than broccoli too, je suis le pinacle, l’épitomé si vous, du sustinance… ou pas.

Last weekend I was in Edmonton doing the weekend shows.  Harold Preuss MC’ed the events and Steve Patterson was headlining.  Paul Sveen came in on Thursday to take it downtown. Welby “I need a web link” Santos was a regular that weekend to add some Filipino flavour to the mix .)

Paul “not much here to link to either”Myerhaug suprized us with a visit on Friday, with Kelly “the only picture of me on the internet has a big red ‘x’ through it” Dakus setting the bar with his guest spot on the Friday late show.  Saturday had Winston “I bet you thought I have a link, but I don’t” Herbert pop by to help out with a solid set.  All in all it was a grand time.  The shows really went well, and I got to see some faces that I hadn’t seen in awhile and new ones to boot. (*note-I didn’t boot anyone in the face, don’t be retarded

An exciting thing about Edmonton is that it’s the newest club on the circuit, meaning they relocated to a brand spanking new venue.  Along with being a new venue, they also have a green room, which Calgary does not.  I (had) posted a photo here to show the ambience, the faux antique brass bull and matador adorning the wall, with the retro velvet couch/rocking chair combination, which can only accentuate the wicker/wood coffee table and partial brick panelling memorabilia from the old club.  Tastefully done…you may wish to lay a towel before sitting on the couch.

I played BC this weekend with Martha Chaves. Good times. Kelowna was lovely, and Cranbrook took the Spectravision out of the rooms.  Two days in Cranbrook with nothing to do but walk to Zellers.  A highlight of the trip was when I was able to pick up five books from the sale at the “mall” that the library was putting on.  Total price = $3.50. Five, FIVE books for $3.50.  Only in Cranbrook, where books are tools of the devil.

In more important news, master of comedy Rodney Dangerfield passed away.  He lived a great and long life, and I’m sure he would not want anyone to be particularly sad, he was a comedian.  My take is on this is how he impacted the comedy community.  There is an energy that is held and shared by all mankind where I believe that there is even a stronger bond shared by individual groups: peace officers, salepeople, vegans, any group where you would feel comfortable around “like” people.  Ever feel a connection with a person or group?  Or feel that certain people are repellant?  Some believe that it is a personality thing, I believe it goes deeper than that.

Chortle’s article on Rodney
CNN article on Rodney
MSNBC’s article on Rodney
Rodney’s home page

What is WIERD, very very wierd, is that a guy here at work had said he thought that Rodney had died years ago.  We were watching Caddyshack and commenting on how hilarious he was – radio in the huge golf bag, great one liners, perfect antagonist – and my buddy pipes up, “Didn’t Rodney die?” I almost flipped on him, I was telling him that he was still alive, went to his web page, and didn’t find anything of the sort.

Last night I went to the club to pick up a cheque and I was really feeling odd, and really down.  I was all down that all of my buddy comedians were moving away (Toronto, England), I was just bad energy feeling sorry for myself.  I even had to leave early because I really did not want to be there feeling the way I did.  It was an inexplicable feeling that, while having it, I was really aware I was feeling it, and really felt that I was being ridiculous for feeling that way.  You know how sometimes you feel down but need someone to tell you, “Hey, you look down,” to notice?  I really noticed, and no one needed to tell me.

And today I got the news about Rodney.

After rehashing everything I’m left with a peculiar, creepy, odd, yet empowering feeling about the events over the past day. I think this kind of explained everything, and adds another “cementing” to the belief in common energy that comedians, and all of us share. He had a very powerful and influential presence in the community.

…Or I could be a whacked out head case.

Regardless, I don’t think I was the only one who felt his passing, he was one of the good guys…maybe finally he’ll get some respect.

Longview, Alberta, Canada.  The best beef jerky in the world!  You kids put on a good show.  Thank you goes to Holly Clarke and the Longview Fire Department for having Daryl Makk and I perform at the fire hall September 18th.  The food was great, the guests laughed HARD.
Daryl and I went across the street to buy up some of the world famous Longview beef jerky only to find the shop was closed for the day.  Daryl half jokingly told our story of woe as a little anecdote during his act.  By the end of Daryl’s set we had some honey garlic, some teriaki, and buffalo(hot) we were told it is “da bomb”.  I claimed the honey garlic and it was finished before I made it into my house.  The next morning my jaw ached so much I thought it was dislocated. 1 full bag Longview beef jerky X jerky chew factor = 1 Freddy lockjaw.