Dave’s a Stand-Up Guy…

So yeah. Those of you who also check all the comments may remember that I was invited to participate in an open-mic Monday night. Propositioned through the blog… how exciting. I received a lot of encouragement from friends far and wide, so I decided to go for it. At first I was nervous about performing for a Pakistani audience, and I’ve always heard people say that 5 minutes seems like nothing, but is actually a lot of material. But I poured myself a drink and started jotting down ideas and in no time I had a page of notes to draw from. I had the opposite problem. I roughed out a general routine and then had to cut and slash it down to five minutes. Maybe I should just have my own comedy special.

Those who know me will attest that I have a, shall we say, slight tendency to procrastinate. So in typical Ford fashion, I didn’t really write the routine until the day before. I wasn’t too worried, because a) I’ve done the same thing for just about every event I’ve hosted or MC’d (I refuse to endorse the spelling "emcee"), and b) I tend to have everything simmering in my head, so writing it down is more of a means of ordering the bits and ensuring transitions. Another "problem," if you want to call it that, is that new jokes to add always occur to me as I go, so it gets tough to keep to the time limit. I finally got it down to about 7 minutes, but that was without audience laughs, so I figured on about ten minutes. Twice the time allotted me, but then I figured, oh well, fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke.

I personally think the night was a great success. Everyone I spoke to really enjoyed it. Full Kudos to Saad for organising the whole thing. Saad was very funny with his own material, and did a good job of keeping things roling. The two musicians that participated did a great job, and I especially appreciated the Leonard Cohen cover that was beautifully done, and added a bit more Canadian content. Sami, who had extended the comment invitation originally, did a good job with some stand-up material of his own.

Here, more or less, is the routine I performed. I would imagine it loses quite a bit in transcription, and it was designed with jokes for this context, but what the hell. Who cares?


Hello….. My name is Dave, and I’m a Pakistanaholic. (Pause) Um, I’m not sure if you guys have seen any movies, but that’s the part where you’re supposed to say, "Helllllo Dave!" (Half the audience responds)… Too late… too late… thanks for coming out though. But it’s true, I am a Pakistanaholic. I have a problem. I can’t explain it. I wish I could. People say to me, "Dave, you’ve been here a year, why are you still in Pakistan?" And I have to answer, "I have NO Idea!" I’m addicted to you’re crazy-assed country.

I even tried to set up a support group once, Pakistanaholics Anonymous… P.A… but it didn’t really take off. I tried to hold a meeting but only one other person showed up, and he was like (half-assed British accent), "Hello, my name is George, and I’m a Pakistanaholic…. I said, "Hi George, I have a problem" He said, "Hi, I have a TV show." I was like, "There’s the door… yaar."

But the most amazing thing for most people is that I decided to come here in the first place… of my own volition. Hard to believe isn’t it. But it’s really quite simple. I was bored. Needed something to do. I walked into a travel agent’s and said, "I’m looking for some excitement, but I’m not sure where to go." The girl said, "Well, we have a new database here, you give us your criteria and it matches up destinations." So I thought about it and said, "Oh, ok, that’s cool, alright... I could go for some near constant political tension, that would be good.... Uhmm, how about some explosions and bomb-blasts to shake things up a little.... And I guess the potential for natural disaster would be nice, just to keep me on my toes... Let’s see… Oh, a figurehead democracy, that would be great... Religious fanaticism would be fantastic.... Oh, and throw in a massive divide between the rich and the poor." So she typed it all in and there were two hits: Pakistan and the United States of America…. The US? It’s full of crazy people, so here I am.

And now I’m addicted. I’m addicted to the people. I’m addicted to the food. I’m addicted to the clothes. I mean look at this (gesturing to the Shalwar Kameez I wore for the routine) it’s fantastic. You may be thinking I just wore this tonight to get a few extra laughs… and you’d be right… but I do love wearing them. I’m in my pajamas all day long... I’m sorry, I’m going to take a nap... I remember the first time I bought one of these outfits. I brought it home and opened it up, all excited like a little kid, and started unfolding the shalwar (that’s the pants part, westerners). I was prying it apart (unfolding actions accompanied by strange "prying" noises) because there’s more starch in these things than a truck-load of baked potatoes… If you’re on the Atkins diet you’re not allowed to wear them. And I’m unfolding, and unfolding, and unfolding… and I thought, "You have got to be kidding me. I’ve slept in tents made of less material than this." Finally I got it opened up, put them on, and I’m standing in front of the mirror like the "after" shot of a weight-watchers commercial (miming holding out the waist of a huge pair of pants with a goofy smile and thumbs up)(special thanks to Jeff on that joke).

I mean, how can you not love a country where people wear shoes like this (holding up the ornate, pointy, curly-toed shoes (saleem shahi?) I was purposely wearing)… and they’re being serious. Come on man! You’re a genie in a bottle… and I’m not going to rub you any which way... If you’re wearing these shoes, I’m sorry, but I have to laugh at you. I’m wearing them for this bit and I’ve been chuckling all night. You could be standing on the side of the road in tears, but if you’re wearing these shoes, I’m going to lose it. There are three things that I cannot NOT laugh at. One is these shoes. Another is when you fall down in a comic manner. I’m sorry, I hope you’re okay, but I’m going to laugh. And the third one is a running midget.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love midgets. Power to the little people. But when they run… when those little guys start to pick up speed, I just can’t help myself. Their little, big, asses start wobbling back and forth and I’m finished. A midget could be running towards me with a butcher knife and rage in his eyes and I’d be laughing saying, "Whoa, little fella, slow down, you’re making me giggle." Now, if a running midget were wearing a pair of these pointy shoes?… That would be just plain ridiculous. It would be like some kind of Pakistani Leprechaun. (Half-assed Irish accent) "Ahhh, there’s a pot o’ Biryanni at the end of the rainbow… yaar."

Ahhh…. Midgets…. We used to have a midget in my home town. What a little bastard he was. We had a dwarf too…. He was mean too… Grumpy… Our little town had a good representation of the little people now that I think of it. Cause, I mean, I grew up in a very small town. There are probably more people at the Special Olympics New Year’s ball than live in my whole town. We had one black family. Their name was the Grays… that was confusing... We had a Korean Family… no Pakistanis though. But I guess that makes sense, because my home town was way too small to need a Taxi… Oooh… low blow.

People ask me how I could grow up in such a small town and adjust to living in a metropolis like Karachi. Well, I was worried about the same thing when I first arrived. But after a while, I realized that I was actually very well prepared. Living in this Clifton Defense bubble, I was completely prepared by my small town upbringing. Let me explain. I’ll tell you what it was like growing up in a small town. You tell me if it sounds familiar… Growing up in a small town everybody knows everybody else… OR you’re related. You’re bidness ain’t your bidness, it’s everybody’s bidness… as the Grays used to say. Sound Familiar? When you grow up in a small town, there is NOTHING to do at night, unless you make your own entertainment. If you’re not going out to coffee, if you’re not going out to dinner, than what are ya gonna do? Rent a movie? I’m convinced that’s why the teen-pregnancy rate was so high in my town. Standing there (looking from left to right).. "Well… nothing in at the video store (turns and looks "girl" up and down)… Whatcha wanna do?"… When you grow up in a small town, every party is exactly like every other party. It’s the same people, the same faces, it’s just at someone else’s house. Maybe we’re partying at the beach, maybe around a bonfire, maybe by the pool, but it’ll always be the same. There’ll be a fight, there’ll be a break-up, and enough drama to get us through to the next party. Familiar? And back then, we were all under-age, so alcohol was illegal. We had to go to bootleggers and pay crazy prices for booze (pause with pointed stare at audience). So you’ve got kids chugging back booze like they’ll never see it again. (Half-assed frantic teenager voice) "What’s this in the water bottle? Is that Vodka? It’s Vodka… I’m going to drink it straight! Yeah! Chug!… Is this Scotch? I’m going to mix it with lemonade and Pepsi! Let’s Dance!" So after I’d been on the scene for about a month, I plopped down on the bed one night, stretched and said to myself, "Ahhhh, Home Sweet Home."

Thanks, you’ve been great.