The following is a stand-up segment from the NBC show Friday Night... I saw it and taped it sometime in October of 1995 I believe. Then I accidentally taped over it. I'd LOVE to get a tape of it again, but it's probably impossible. So anyways I found this segment so funny I watched it over and over again and memorized it... and later wrote it down. I just dug it back up from the bottom of my trunk and here it is for your reading pleasure:

Oh my God, I'm pooped! Let me tell you why... I spent all night just the dancing fool. I went to a rave last night, have you ever been raving? Ah man, it's the dance sensation that's sweeping the nation... you should get yourself connected. Here's what you do: shave your head, get all 13 years old and stuff, and find your favorite Dr. Seuss hat and some big, orange pants. Or some big, green pants. Or some big, purple pants. Or maybe all your pants at once. And you wear the waist really low, like down around your knees so it looks like you're looking for toilet paper all night. And you have your mom drive you down to the warehouse where all of your similarly-panted friends are hangin out and you dance the night away to Euro-industrial-techno-rave-core until your mom gets tired of honking and comes in and drags you out in front of all your friends, you little rebel!

All my friends have tattoos and they want me to get tattoos so I can be different... just like them! I don't know what kind of tattoo I would get... it wouldn't take too much ink to make me completely blue! Just a Bic's worth and I'm booberry, hey! Hey, what's your tattoo? I'm frostbite. Look, my toes are snapping off!

If you're going to get a tattoo you should get something you can live with cause you're going to have it for the rest of your life. It's like a kid... or herpes... or a kid with herpes, or who knows? But get something discreet, something you can cover up if you need to, like with a shirt sleeve, or a pant leg, or hair, maybe pick up a cat if you've got a job interview... I think I'd be a real asset here at Kinko's...

There's a guy on my block, he's 18 so you know he's got decades of enjoyment ahead of him with this one. He's got a tattoo of a tarantula on his face. Now what are you thinking when you tattoo a tarantula onto your face?? It might be fun playing base in the garage for a few weeks, but eventually I'd like to have, I don't know - SEX or a JOB or a conversation with someone! What kind of conversation could you have with this guy? Hey, go like this... you have a little bad judgement on your face. No, up a little. You've still got some stupid right here.

My coffee's wearing off. I love coffee, don't you? Yeah, ya do. I don't know what I like most about coffee. I don't know if it's the way it keeps me up at night thinking about my rent, the way it gives me splitting headache if I don't drink at least a cup a day, or if it's the way it makes my stool so "firm and satisfying," but gosh I love it nonetheless.

I love the scene, man, the coffee shop with the neoquasipseudoposerdisadvantaged beaniks hanging out, with the berets and the mutton chops and the maitre'd smithereends jazz beards. I love the spoken word scenes, man, they're the best. It's just a guy gets up with a clipboard of bad poet after bad poet after bad poet... 'All right next on the list, Quinn. Come on up here Quinn. Let's hear it for Quinn.'

'This is called fish. Super duper grouper trouper. Now the fish have guns. Man has infected the sea. Sea war. Sea war kill. Kill war, kill. Go fish.'

'This is called skin. Here's to my skin, it keeps my guts in. Encases my meat like a sausage. But could sausage walk? Could sausage talk? Could sausage think? I think not. Therefore, I am sausage.'

'This is called plaigerism. That's why I'm easy. Easy like Sunday mornin'. That's why I'm eeeeasy. Easy like Sunday maw-wa-wa-nin''

'All right everyone that was Quinn. Let's hear it for Quinn. Good job Quinn. Nice tarantula.'


Go home or back to my me page

Brought to you by the lovely people at Geocities.com