The Liam McEneaney Experience

I temped for a while. I'm a terrible temp. First of all, I have a bad attitude.

No, I take that back, I have a great attitude, just for me. Not the people I work for. I worked for a guy once, he was talking to me about fishing. By which I mean, he was talking at me about fishing. And he said, "Nothing's better than getting up at 4:30 in the morning - "

I interrupted, "Whoa whoa whoa! If that were true, I'd have been here on time - ever."

Also, I don't know why, if you're a temp, it's "bad attitude" to say, "I hate this job." It's a shitty job. If it were any fun, my boss would be sitting in a cubicle, and I'd be at a desk asking where my dry-cleaning is.

I worked for a large law firm for a while, for three lawyers, all three of whom thought I was busy working on stuff for the other two. It was great, one of them would come in, see my hammering away at my MySpace profile, say, " Sorry, I didn't realize Mike and Eric had you so busy," and back off.

I got caught stealing office supplies. I mean, everyone steals office supplies, but I opened a Staples in my cubicle. I outsold their supplier by 30%, so they made me their main office supply source. I'd sell them supplies, wait until they put them in the closet and then steal them again. I sold them the same stapler 37 times.

My job became setting up interviews for the person who was going to be hired to my job full-time. But it as so easy, I started setting up appointments with people who were clearly unqualified. The lawyers would talk to me after an interview:

"Liam, did you know that guy had just been arrested for murder?"
"I know, you defended him. You were so convincing telling the jury how innocent he was, I figured you wouldn't mind."

"Liam, that woman is a children's clown."
"Look, she said she was fun at parties. Also, look how adorable her pony is.

* * * * * *

I type 7 words per minute - outside of IM.

I can type 873 in an IM window.

* * * * * *

Here's the Borat Channel 4 special from Britain:

I've been reading the book The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists, and it's being protested by dumb people who only read the blurbs on Amazon and then get offended. They've been calling it a how-to book teaching men to manipulate women into doing whatever they want sexually, but it's more of a cautionary tale, explaining how seeing women only as objects, as vaginas-on-legs can ruin you. (And the worst part was I couldn't get my money back.)

Anyway, I don't need tricks to get exactly what I want from women. Check this true story:

A couple of weeks ago, a friend had her coat stolen at a comedy show. This getting-stuff-stolen nonsense is pandemic; at a comedy club Christmas party, I left my bag by the coat check because the only stuff I had in it were some dirty gym clothes and a Duane Reade bag with deodorant and mouthwash I'd bought on the way over. At the end of the night, I picked up my bag and - you guessed it - the mouthwash was gone. That shit was three dollars at Duane Reade. My only hope is that whoever stole it has a Kitty Dukakis-style drinking problem, and the mouthwash is what finally destroys this person's liver.

Anyhoozles, she didn't lose anything important like mouthwash; just her house keys. Happily, I had a copy of my friend's keys at my apartment (and boy was she surprised! LOL! J/K! SIDEWAYS WINKING SMILEY FACE!), and we went into Queens to retrieve them.

On the subway ride in, we were sitting in an otherwise empty car, and three young women, I'm guessing high school, pretty in that Queens a-little-too-much-makeup-and-hairspray way. They approached us and started singing some awful pop song in loud, toneless voices. Then they explained that they were trying to raise money to get Pizzeria Uno, and they wouldn't stop singing until they got a dollar. After a couple of minutes, my friend gave them a dollar. "We got a dollar!" they exclaimed, like they'd won the lottery, or they'd found out their first pregnancy test was negative. "Let's go to the next car!"

As we walked back to my place, my friend bitterly explained that these girls were probably the most popular girls in their school, and whenever she sees girls like that she wants to punish them. I asked how she expected giving them the dollar they asked for was punishing them. Also, I highly doubt that if you're begging for money on the subway, you're going to be the most popular anything in your social scene for very long.

Here's my point, gentlemen: We entered my apartment, and probably within two minutes of conversation, my friend was offering to, right then and there on the spot - and to be fair, there'd been some drinking involved beforehand - to help me clean my apartment.

It was a little depressing, because the week before I'd had a "throw out everything garbage and clean up" weekend, you know where you discover things you'd forgotten you had, like your grandparents. "Oops, I guess I put them under those magazines a month ago!"

Anyway, not to brag but we must have cleaned for two hours, before we were exhausted.

No, we didn't have sex. I clearly don't need sex so much as I need a goddamned nanny.

* * * * *

From the British sketch show Not the Nine O'Clock News, Rowan Atkinson plays the kind of clerk you've encountered if you've ever shopped for a Mac product, or any store or restaurant in Brooklyn:



And here's the Gerald the Gorilla sketch:

It's like an entire town gets together and says, "Let's just all be gay for an hour. We'll put on sparkly costumes and march around blasting showtunes!"

* * * * *

My parents have two cats, and I realized recently that I'm going to have to fight them to stay in the will. It's like they were able to go out and pick a child who wouldn't disappoint them.

And the cats know it. I can see it in their evil little eyes. Sometimes I'll be alone in a room with them, and they'll just start staring. And I will say, "Don't even think about it, because I will take you down. I know a guy who can make it look like an accident."

* * * * *

Teenagers will say things like, "Hey, I'm old enough to join the Army and defend my country, why aren't I old enough to drink?"

If you're eighteen and you can't figure out how to get your hands on beer, I'm not sure I want you defending my country. If you can't get it together to find that one store where half the lights are always turned off and one of the freezers has been broken since the Reagan administration and buy a 6-pack of PBR from the guy behind the counter wondering why he bothered to leave his home country in the first place, then how the hell are you going to be able to find Osama bin Laden?

* * * * *

My buddy Todd Levin turned me on to a new recording artist named Reh Dogg. He's that rare R&B singer/rapper who does both with equal measures of skill. The following is a video for his song Why Must I Cry?, and it features the signature trademarks of his video work (running through the woods, showering):

I was in K-Mart last Christmas, and I saw the worst gift idea - four salamis in a gift box for ten dollars.
What kind of friend are you giving this to?

"Here. I drew your name in the office Secret Santa. Here's to another year of no eye contact. I found it while shopping for extension cords."

Those gift foods are never for eating. It's like you're saying, "Hey, imagine what it would be like if you had food you could eat."
Because I don't know if you've ever tried to eat gift meat, but it always tastes like it came from rubbery dehydrated cows,

And why give fruit baskets? "Here's twenty pounds of fruit - enjoy the gift of uncontrollable shitting. When you spend three days on the toilet, I want you to think of me."
Fruit baskets are the only present that goes rotten after two days. Except for the pears, which will stay nice and hard and unripe until the Judgment Day.

It's like guest soaps - those seashell-shaped nice-smelling soaps that you're afraid to ever use.
They're called guest soaps, but no one actually wants their guests to use them.
They're actually "guessed" soaps, as in, "We guessed you would find the soap you're supposed to use on the sink."

If you want to buy your friend a ton of food he can't eat, just go balls-out and go to Costco and buy him a 40-pound tup of I Can't believe It's Not Butter.
Which is the greatest name for a food ever, because that thing's been on the market for 25 years, and I can't believe that guy still can't believe it's not butter. I imagine him in his factory, tasting spreads: "Mmmm, okay, that's gotta be - whaaaat? Are you kidding me? NOT BUTTER????? Okay, how about this - this is definitely - NO WAY! THAT'S NOT BUTTER EITHER! I mean, here I am in the factory I own where we make non-butter spreads all day long, and none of this stuff is butter!!!!"

He should make other foods that he can't believe what they aren't. Like, he could make Budweiser, but the label would say, "I Can't Believe It's Not Horse Urine."

* * * * *

David Bowie does a phenomenal acoustic version of Dead Man Walking on "Conan." I used to have this on a "Best of Conan" CD, which I sorely miss:



And here's the same song, very different version:



And finally, here's Bowie before he was cool:

Not gonna do that. Because I'm not sorry, I'm just tired.

Instead, here's a promise that tomorrow will bring something interesting. And in the meantime, check out this show tonight:

Not since the season premieres of 24 (number two among the coveted "males 18 - 34 who like watching things blowded up real good" demographic, behind only "The Care Bears in the Land Without Feelings") and American Idol (number one among people who enjoy watching karaoke) has an entertainment event been this highly anticipated.

And tonight is the night everyone! So get into your comfy pajamas, bring a bowl of popcorn, and get 'faced! We've got a heckuva lineup.

FUN FACT! If you imdb "Care Bears," Keri Russell's name comes up!

MONDAY, JANUARY 22nd
Tell Your Friends!
at the Lolita bar!
226 Broome St., at the corner of Allen
8:00pm - FREE!

Featuring:
* Victor Varnado: AS SEEN ON TELEVISION! (Late Night with Conan O'Brien, and the movies End of Days, Julien Donkey Boy, and Pluto Nash)
* Allison Castillo: AS SEEN ON TELEVISION! (Comedy Central's Premium Blend, VH1's Best Week Ever)
* Jessica Wood: AS SEEN ON TELEVISION! (First white woman on HBO's Def Comedy Jam)
* Liam McEneaney: ONLY DOING THIS AS PART OF REHAB! (Comedy Central's Premium Blend, VH1's Best Week Ever)

Plus, our opening act, A Brief View of the Hudson!

WHAT THE PRESS HAS SAID ABOUT "TELL YOUR FRIENDS!"
* Time Out New York called it a "DON'T MISS" twice now, and said: "With a slew of talented stand-ups . . . and folk-rock duo 'A Brief View of the Hudson,' Liam McEneaney's new show—and 'workout comedy room'—is sure to please."
* The NY Daily News made it a Monday pick of the day.
* AM New York put it in their "Best Bets" section.
* "Editor's Pick!" - clubfreetime.com
* The Onion says, "Though it's pegged as a 'workout room' for comics to test their new(ish) material, Liam McEneaney's weekly show Tell Your Friends flexes enough comedic muscle to pull its weight alongside more established downtown shows. Demetri Martin, Slovin & Allen, and Late Night With Conan O'Brien writer Brian Kiley are among the stand-ups who have squeezed into Lolita's narrow space since the show's debut this summer, alongside the surprisingly tolerable resident folk duo A Brief View of the Hudson."

* * * * *

After Richard Nixon lost the 1961 Presidential election, he appeared on the Jack Paar show to play a piano concerto he wrote. No, I'm serious guys:

He's not a mastermind at terror. Let's be honest, 9/11 didn't inspire terror in America, because he totally hit the wrong target.

He hit New York City. Half the country was like, "Good. Them queers deserved it."

No, if you want to inspire terror, you have to hit a target that will actually upset Americans.

You have to hit the Nabisco factory. You tell people that they ain't getting their Chips Ahoy! or E.L. Fudge no more, there'll be rioting in the streets.

* * * * *

I heard a guy saying, "At my job, I get treated worse than a dog." Another guy used the phrase, "It's a dog's life."

Here's what I don't get - dogs are treated great. Have you ever looked at the ingredients on a can of dog food? It's got pure beef, pure chicken, protein, vitamins and minerals. Dogs don't even want all that stuff, they're like, "Hey if you don't mind, I'm just going to eat my own turd." But no, people want to give them that stuff.

Do you know what I had for breakfast? Tater tots.
If I treated a dog like I treat myself, I'd go to jail.

Also, it's alright to let your dog just go to the bathroom right on the sidewalk in broad daylight.
Know what would happen if I did that? According to the judge, this time I'm going to jail.

* * * * *

Also, the phrase, "The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence."

Who the hell is that passionate about grass? Or at least, that kind of grass?

"Goddammit Barbara, have you seen our neighbor's grass? Is he some kind of wizard?"

* * * * *

Here's Miles Davis and John Coltrane performing So What from "Kind of Blue," the jazz album you own that you've listened to:



And here's Dave Brubeck performing Take Five, the other jazz song you know (what's funny is, for some reason, the YouTube community has this flagged as "objectionable content"):

The other evening I was taking a stroll along one of Manhattan's pleasant and tree-lined avenues, when a homeless gentleman sitting in a doorway started yelling for my attention.

Now, I try not to take notice of people yelling at me on the street in general; on the sidewalks of New York, nothing good has ever followed the phrase, "Hey yo, my man!"

No one has ever said, "Hey yo, my man! I just baked some cherry pie, want some?" (If they do, don't eat it. Unless you were thinking about ending it all by jumping in front of a moving train, because at least if you eat poison pie, I won't have to wait fifteen minutes in the tunnel behind your death train waiting for the MTA to move out its robo-scraper).

Anyhootenanny, this homeless fella was so insistent that after a moment I turned to face him, to hear what he had to say. He yelled, "You gotta take pride in yourself! Stand straight and walk tall!"

Which would have been inspiring coming from a guy who had not just clearly peed himself all down his pant leg about two minutes prior.

* * * * *

There's some guy using YouTube to hawk his "Smartass Technique" of picking up women. Which would be fine, except he's posted the hidden camera video below of his technique in action, and he's clearly just bothering some poor woman in a pizzeria, and he doesn't even get her phone number!

Here's a tip: If a woman says, "Why don't you give me your number," what she means is, "I am so unimpressed with your attempts to talk to me, I can't even be bothered to think up a fake number to give to you."

When I was growing up there was an old woman, she had two of those annoying little dogs. One was name "Foofy," and the other was named "Reginald."

Foofy was what I called a "football dog," because he was approximately the size, color, and shape of a football. And whenever he started yapping and trying to bite my ankles, I would fantasize about punting him for a fifty yard return.

Reginald, I'm convinced, had died and was too dumb to notice. His legs moved, his tail wagged, but there was nothing going on in the brain. The way you played fetch with Reginald was, you stood about an inch away from him and you yelled "FETCH!" and you threw a ball directly into his face. And wherever the ball rolled away to, you picked him up and you put him down in front of it. And if he moved at all, this crazy old lady would shout, "Oh Reginald, what a good boy you are!" and pet him while you stood there feeling like an idiot because you were the one who did all the work.

And I swear, the reason I'm creative today is because when I was seven, any time I saw this woman, I had to immediately think of a good excuse for not standing there for an hour listening to her talk about the lives of her dogs and what the vet said about their bowel movements.
"I'm sorry, but I'm late for boot camp. Yeah, I'm joining the Marines."

She also had two grandkids. Did not know their names. She called them, "Hey you!" and "C'mere!"

I remember seeing this woman carrying this stupid little dog in her arms, cradling it like a baby, in its new Christmas sweater, while her grandson trailed behind:

"Grandma, can we go get ice cream?"
"Maybe later, but right now Reginald is very upset. You scared him with all that screaming."

And over her shoulder, I saw Reginald shoot this kid the smuggest, most human look I've ever seen on an animal that wasn't a WWE wrestler. And I realized that perhaps Reginald was not quite so dumb as I'd assumed.

* * * * *

Years before he was Ziggy Stardust, David Bowie was David Jones, 17 year-old mime. Don't believe me? Well, thanks to the magic of YouTube you can check out David Jones in "The Mask":



And here's Bowie's absolutely brilliant appearance on HBO's Ricky Gervais show,Extras:

In college, I was told that astronomy was one of those can't fail classes, but it was one of the most difficult things I'd ever done.

See, our first assignment was to go to the tallest building we could find and look at the moon through our telescopes.
I didn't have a telescope so my Vietnam vet neighbor Charlie lent me his. Unfortunately, I couldn't get it off of the rifle.

The tallest building around was a clocktower, which was right across the street from the police precinct.

And that was when the science lab's new strain of killer swine had escaped, and I guess I was a little jumpy because right when I sighted through the 'scope I thought I saw a shadow, so I started screaming, "YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE PIGS!"

I had to call 911 to get cops to come protect me from the cops that had arrested me.

They hit me so hard, I saw stars which thanks to my class I was able to identify:

"There's Cassiopeia! There's Orion's Belt!" (Officer O'Ryan wouldn't stop hitting me with his belt.)

* * * * *

The Two Ronnies are a famous sketch comedy duo in England, and although I never was a huge fan, after seeing the following sketch, I may have to give them another chance. Absolutely brilliant from concept to execution:

Taking the local train home, I had the extraordinary pleasure of having one of those skinny, snotty ladies squeeze her way into an almost-empty space right next to me. I'm kind of a big guy, and there wasn't really room for her to sit between myelf and the dozing Mexican fella, but bless her for trying.

What I found especially not charming was her insistence on not only wiggling around in her seat, as if to say, "Hey, I need you to move a foot over to the left and help crush someone else sitting on that long bench to death," but on delivering a sharp elbow to my ribs. And not by accident either, as I watched the Mexican on her other side wake sharply. She then had the nerve to send her arms at 90-degree angles as she fished a Sudoku book and pen out of her purse.

I myself had just finished one of those free alt. weeklies, and was staring with boredom at the hooker ads in the back. I still had 15 minutes on my ride, though, and so I closed the paper, turned to this woman and said, "Could I borrow your pen a minute?"

She looked at me blankly, so I pointed at her pen and said, "Do you mind?" And she kind of nodded so I took her pen from her fingers, opened the paper back to the hooker ads, and begin deliberately reading each one and circling two. The woman watched me, not too happy, and so I circled one more, X-ed one out, and made as if to hand the pen back to her.

I then said, "Hey, while I've got this, can I get your number?"

She stood and walked to the end of the car. I said, "Your pen!" and she walked out the door to the next car.

For the next ten minutes, the rest of the car avoided looking anywhere near my general direction.

* * * * *

Pee Wee Herman pays a visit to the old Joan Rivers Show:

Dear Penthouse,

I attend classes at a prestigious university that we can just call "Barvard Booniversity." I was taking an Introduction to French 101 class, and I couldn't help noticing that my teacher was totally hot. Like 38-24-32, with long black hair, green eyes, and the the most adorable French accent you ever heard.

Anyway, during our last class, I guess I was staring at her pretty hard and not blinking until my eyes dried out and I couldn't help noticing that she kept making eye contact with me every few minutes. I took this as my cue to wait for her after class.

I approached her and said, "Brofessor Bohnson, I couldn't help noticing during today's lesson that you kept looking at me."

And she said, "Are you registered for my class?"

And I said, "I know a little bit about French, if I can show you."

And she said, "Aren't you that guy who hangs out on campus even though he isn't a student?" Then she called campus security, and Boger and Bteve came to take me back to my job at the Buncan Bonuts on Barvard Bquare.

She totally wanted it.

Bobert B.
Bambridge, Bass.

* * * * *

Dear Penthouse,

I never thought this could happen to me, but I was alone in my room, masturbating to your last issue, when I just burst out in tears and started crying.

I think it's because my crippling porn addiction has made me unable to establish any kind of genuine relationship with a woman in the real world, as they will never measure up to what my ideal of a woman is.

Or it may be because my cellmate sold me to an Aryan Nation guy for twenty bucks.

Either way, it was hot.

Frank M.
Los Alamedas, CA

* * * * *

Dear Penthouse,

On your way home, could you stop and pick up some orange juice. Thanks.

Oh, by the way, I told these people I met in Chicago that they could come crash on our couch. I know this is kind of short notice, but I totally spaced out. I'm super sorry, I feel like such a dumbass.

It's my turn to do the dishes, right? Cool, I thought you were going to do them which is why they've been in the sink the last couple of weeks.

Also, is it cool if I don't pay the electric bill next month? I'm going to be staying at my girlfriend's place a lot, and since you're going to be using most of the electricity I figured it'd be cool if you paid for it. Same thing with the cable, right?

Thanks!

Frank M., Waukegan, Ill.

PS: I just got a pit bull. Her name is Baby.

* * * * *

Speaking of wankers, here's a young Paul "Pee Wee Herman" Reubens on The Gong Show: