BAD ASS CLOWN

BAD ASS CLOWN ENTOURAGE

Did you know there's a typo in your blog title?

Uhhh no and I dont care, ok I care a little what is it?

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If you had to pick another character/costume to do your job as, who or what would it be and why?

Jack the stripper, because I'm a little ghoul at heart

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What's the best tip you've ever gotten?

Never bet on a horse that’s a layoff ( one that hasn't raced for more than 45 days) it rarely comes in.

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The Perils of Clowning

Clowning to me is just an exaggeration of my own personality traits. I’ve simply chosen to emphasize certain physical attributes and enigmatic qualities instead of exhibiting a pension for buffoonery. Really I’ve just taken a more contemporary approach to traditional clowning and incorporated the world’s oldest profession. I mean, a lot of performers put on makeup or costumes to get into character. I tend to get naked to free mine. I wouldn’t say this line of work is glamorous, in fact it’s sometimes dangerous, but it beats the hell out of delivering pizzas. Recently I was hired to do a private show for an estranged wife will call “Jane Doe” for privacy reasons. I agreed to meet her at her home in Westlake Hills, a rich ass suburb here in Austin, as she was uncomfortable with the idea of meeting a clown at a Motel 6 in the middle of the afternoon, I prefer The Four Seasons myself, so who, was I to argue? It was clear she had concerns about discretion, so I decided to take a yellow cab. If a clown on a big orange motorcycle were to drive through Westlake Hills people would naturally be inquisitive, & I’m not exactly inconspicuous. I had been working a lot that week, so I took a penile enhancement pill to get me in the mood before the big show; nobody pays to see a naked flaccid clown. The pill had started working about the time the cabbie pulled up to the residence which typically would have been a good thing, however when I got out of the cab the driver noticed my erection and misunderstood my excitement. “Fuck you clown, you fucking homosexuals, I’m not down with that’ he shouted in broken English and speed away honking his horn and giving me the finger. Fuck it discretions overrated anyways, I thought to myself. Mrs. Doe greeted me at the door in her underwear. “Have you seen a little car with 20 or so clowns go by, I seem to have lost my ride,” I said embarrassingly. “No but I saw a yellow cab leave here in a hurry. Now get in here before someone else sees you,” she replied curtly. I honked the bicycle horn in my pocket and imitated the cabbie “Fuck you, I’m not down with the clown’ she simply rolled her eyes. “Would you like a glass of wine,” she offered. “I don’t drink… wine, but I’ll take a Vodka Martini,” I said in my best Count Dracula voice. Again she was not amused. Then she noticed my erection. “Oh my God; is that a dick in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Finally she appeared amused. “Will that be cash or check? I asked smugly.” There wasn’t a whole lot of conversation after that. She pulled me down a long hall into a guest bedroom and preceded to tear my clown suit off in such a hostile way, I was afraid she might have lured me to Westlake to fulfill some latent, clown murder sex fantasy she’d been harboring. As it turns out, she had no interest in clowns one way or the other. She was merely a sexual frustrated middle-aged woman with a self-absorbed spouse to busy or too indifferent to take care of her sexually. I just happened to have an erection and be in the room with her at the time. An hour and a half later I awoke from my clown slumber to a man’s voice. I sat up with a shot. “You’ve got to get out of here now, it’s my husband.” How fucking cliché, I thought, Clown gets murdered by jealous husband. My family will be so proud. “I thought you said you were separated,” I strained to whisper. I remember hearing his footsteps as he came down the hall. “He’ll kill you if he finds you here,” she said as she opened a window throwing my jacket and trousers into the yard. “Are you fucking serious?” I asked. That’s when she noticed I still had an erection. “Are you?” She replied. “There’s clown white make up all over your face and sheets,” I screeched. Suddenly the door swung open revealing a 400 lb killer. “Aahhhh!” I shrieked like a girl. “That’s your husband?” He looked at my erection and screamed, “Aahhhh!” you’re fucking a clown?” As I dove out the window my big shoe hooked on the windowsill sending me face first into the dirt. I heard glass break behind me as he lunged after me to ring my neck. The next-door neighbors, who were having a bar-b-que, heard the commotion and began shouting call the police there at it again. The look on their faces however as I tried to compose myself was one of complete incomprehension. I grabbed up my clothes and started running but adrenaline and the medication made it feel like I was going into cardiac arrest. I could hear the neighbors shouting again, something about filming the naked clown and putting it on You Tube, my cue to leave. Once I was comfortably far enough away from the house, I found some tall hedges to get dressed in and do a quick inventory of my belongings. The last thing I wanted was to discover that I had left my wallet, keys, or cell phone at the house of horrors. I called a buddy of mine who worked on that side of town to come get me. He was delivering pizzas so I ordered a large to expedite the process and waited nervously in the bushes for what seemed like hours. I could here sirens in the distance but figured; I’d rather get picked up by the cops for hiding in someone’s bushes than chance running into her husband. That was one of the best pizza I’ve ever eaten. The next day I called “Jane” to check up on her. She told me her husband had gone to jail on a domestic charge, and that this was his third offense, so he would be doing some time. Thank God I thought. She asked if she could see me again and I agreed but only if we could meet at a Motel 6. I continue frantically to search You Tube for what is arguably my best, on film performance to date, but so far nothing comes up under naked clown with boner, running for his life.