Tag Archives: Snow

LET IT BURN!

This comedy blog post was made possible by Patreon. One of the rewards for becoming a Patreon backer is suggesting a topic for the blog. Two different patrons, Jen Manna and Jim Crider, suggested discussing the Midwestern perspective of Los Angeles. Jim wondered about how I would adjust as a  Minnesotan. Would I be treated as a “fish out of water?” Jen expressed valid concerns about “Asshole Weather Updates” bragging about the sun and lack of snow. This is a frequent problem when a midwestern person moves to my new home, Los Angeles. Here’s a story that sums up a deep misunderstanding of both my old and new homes! Enjoy!

Let It Burn

My wife and I moved to Los Angeles primarily for career reasons. But on top of that, I was personally incredibly done with winter and the snow.

Here are the some of the jokes I posted on twitter to try to cope with the winter:

  • Snowflakes are falling. They are all unique. And yet they are all assholes.
  • Did you know Minnesotans have over 72 different swear words for snow?
  • My wife is RAKING snow off of our roof. Where’s your damn song dreaming about that, Bing Crosby???

I had to move, if no other reason, because I was running out of ways to express my personally being done with the winter.

When I posted that I was moving to Los Angeles, I was lucky enough to receive mostly positive, supportive feedback. Although there were some nasty things said about both the Midwest and Los Angeles.

But a couple of people said something that struck me as very odd. I’m paraphrasing, but they said, “Okay. You might be escaping the snow by moving to Los Angeles, but you’re just trading it…FOR FIRE.”

I understand it gets very dry and fires are a real concern in Southern California. But comparing fire to SNOW to a person from MINNESOTA made something break in my brain.

Having now lived in both the Midwest and Southern California, I’ve noticed there are several CRUCIAL differences between fire and snow.

I’m pretty sure that here in LA, the sky is not going to RAIN FIRE ON ME FROM ABOVE for six to seven months of the year.

I’m  probably not going to make plans with friends and then be unable to get there because my car got stuck in the fire. Sorry, guys! I tried to push it out but the tires exploded.

Since I moved to Los Angeles, I have spent exactly ZERO MINUTES of my life scraping an inferno off of my car’s windshield.

I don’t have to put on layers and layers of flame retardant hats, coats, scarves, boots, and mittens every time I step out of my home.

You don’t hear people in Los Angeles say, “You know the fire is so beautiful when it first comes. You know, right around Christmas, you look outside and your neighbor’s house is just engulfed in flames? So beautiful! And the kids are outside throwing fireballs like they’re Super Mario? And the little ones are inside singing that great Disney power ballad LET IT BURN over and over again! It’s all so romantic! But then around March, you’re just like GO AWAY FIRE! YOU’VE BURNED EVERYTHING I’VE EVER KNOWN AND LOVED AND I WANT TO GO TO TRADER JOE’S WITHOUT IMMOLATING MYSELF!”

In fact, did you know that native Angelenos have over 72 different words for fire?

Fire, flames, heat curtain, infernonado, super hot juice cleanse, the REAL burning man. The list goes on and on.

Anyway, I have not yet burst into flames in Los Angeles. I’ve enjoyed the weather, but I’ve enjoyed it in the spirit of the Midwest–quietly, calmly, and without posting asshole comments to my friends back in Minnesota.

And so far, all the Angelenos I’ve met have been welcoming and kind to a newbie from the Midwest. Even the guy who decided to hit on me at 11 pm on Sunset Boulevard.

A man who like me was wearing a jacket (thus being grossly overdressed for LA) approached me. I thought maybe he was a fellow Midwestern human. Before he could reach me, the wave of alcohol hit me like advance troops storming the beach. He started to say something and I said, “I’m sorry. I’m not interested.”

I turned to walk away and he yelled something else. I thought there was no way I could have heard it right so I turned back and asked, “What?”

He repeated himself. He yelled, “It’s okay! You can trust me! I’m a presidential candidate!”

This was funny to me on a minimum of two levels.

I laughed to myself and continued down Sunset to walk back to my new home in Los Angeles. A home that I knew was not buried in eight feet of fire.

The man yelled one more thing.

“I REALLY LIKE YOUR JACKET.”

Maybe he was from the Midwest after all.

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Filed under Comedy Real Life, Comedy Trip

HOLLYWOOD AND/OR BUST

Big life news!

After many years of calling Minneapolis home, my wonderful wife Sara Stevenson Scrimshaw and I are moving to Los Angeles. Los Angeles, California. I don’t know if there is a Los Angeles in Ohio or Cambodia or any other place, but we’re not moving there, we’re moving to Los Angeles, California.

Below is an FAQ. These are questions I’ve frequently been asking myself about the move. If you think you might enjoy reading my (frankly pretty informative) inner dialogue, then please continue reading!

Q: WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?

A: There are many reasons. When Sara and I first got married we agreed we wanted to try living different places. We did a pretty good job of that by living in TWO DIFFERENT PLACES in South Minneapolis, but it’s time for a real change.

Sara is interested in exploring new job opportunities.

After a lot of visits and investigation, I’m convinced Los Angeles, California is the best place to pursue the kind of comedy performance and comedy writing that makes me happy.

Also, I really do want to break-up with snow.

Q: BUT ISN’T MINNEAPOLIS AWESOME?

A: Yes, yes, it is. Saint Paul is not bad, either. When I was a little kid my parents had a pack of playing cards with a picture of the IDS, the big blue skyscraper in the middle of Downtown Minneapolis. At the time we lived in Brainerd–also known as “The Paris of Northern Minnesota.”

I was fascinated by that big blue, sci-fi looking building. I wanted to go to the big city and be a part of things. Years later, I worked in the IDS building at Kinko’s. I’ve done a show on the 50th floor. I’ve been on dates, laughed with friends, had a homeless guy say he would like to shoot me but couldn’t afford a gun–all in that building.

When I see the IDS all of this flashes through my mind. To me, it’s Minneapolis. It’s been a part of me since my earliest memories and it always will be.

But it’s time to check out some other skyscrapers.

Q: THAT’S ALL NICE AND ROMANTIC–WAY TO USE YOUR LIBERAL ARTS DEGREE–BUT WHEN ARE YOU ACTUALLY MOVING?

A: We’ll be making the transition–going back and forth a little bit–over the next several weeks with the goal to be all settled in Los Angeles, California by the end of March.

Q: WILL YOU EVER BE BACK IN MINNEAPOLIS?

A: Yes, thanks for that nice segue. I’ll be back in July to perform at CONvergence. Check the LIVE SHOWS section of this very website for details on this and other shows across the country.

Q: DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT LOS ANGELES?

A: Yes. I’ve been there several times and I’m lucky enough to know a lot of cool people. I look forward to hanging out and doing fun weird creative things with friends, fellow performers, writers, and all of their small, adorable dogs. Plus, I’ve watched every season of 24 so I know it only takes 5 to 15 minutes to drive anywhere in the metro area.

Q: WILL YOU BECOME A TOTALLY PRO-WEST COAST GUY OR WILL YOU BE ONE OF THOSE GUYS WHO LIVES IN LOS ANGELES BUT CONSTANTLY TALKS ABOUT HOW GREAT THE MIDWEST IS?

A: All I can say for sure is that I will make fun of both places equally.

Q: WHEN WILL YOU DO YOUR FIRST JUICE CLEANSE?

A: When it snows in Los Angeles.

I think that’s it! Thanks for reading and thanks for your support during this weird transitional time.

Sincerely,
Joseph “I’m really done with snow” Scrimshaw

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Filed under Comedy Real Life, Uncategorized

IT’S OVER, SNOW

Before I lived in Los Angeles, I lived in Minnesota for many years. As the difficulty of winter increased for me I struggled to describe to friends how I felt about snow. I realized the best analogy for my relationship with snow was this: It’s like dating a crazy person. The following is my attempt to  break up with snow. It will probably get ugly.

Snow.

You and I have to talk.

We’ve been seeing each other on and off for more years than I like to think about and—no, no—Snow—I don’t want to play. No, I don’t want to throw you at my friends or roll you into balls and make you a man. That’s just weird.

Snow. This is serious.

It’s not you, it’s me, but I think we need to break up.

No, no, Snow, don’t lose your shit. I don’t deny we’ve had some really good times together. Usually in December.

You’ve been away for a while and when you first come back I’m excited to see you. You look fresh and pretty. And, honestly, it’s really nice to have you around for the holidays. I sit by a warm fire and I could just stare at you all night.

But then January 1st hits and I am so fucking done with you.

Why? Because I know you’re going to spend months making ridiculous demands of me.

How many times have I made plans with friends that I have had to cancel because of your bullshit?

I’m sick of the embarrassment of calling my friends and family and saying, “Sorry, I can’t make it to dinner or the show or the family reunion because Snow showed up in the middle of the night and fucked up my car.”

You don’t care what’s going on in my life. You show up whenever you want with all your needs and your issues. Shovel me! Scrape me! Blow me!

Not to mention my favorite passive aggressive game—pour kitty litter on me or I will knock you on your ass. That’s just deviant.

And then you try to play it off  like it’s cute. You’re all like, “Oh, come on, stay home from work, lie down inside me, and let’s make an angel together.”

It’s cute in December, Snow, but by February, it’s just pathetic.

And that’s another thing. By February, you’re not exactly pretty anymore. Thousands of different people and machines have trampled through you, you’re full of mud and filth, you keep melting and refreezing, melting and refreezing. By March we finally start to see the truth: you are a messy, dangerous bi-polar pile of crazy mush.

No, no, I am not being overly harsh. Remember when I said it wasn’t you, it was me? I was lying.

It is totally you. You’re insane. You dictate where I can park my car!

By the end of March, you are downright sociopathic. I’m not playing with you enough, so you start a big melt to try to get my attention back. The second I start to feel a little sad that you’re leaving, you pound me with another ten inches.

That’s it.  That’s the end of the story. Can we just be friendly about it?

Can I have my stuff back?

What stuff?  All the stuff I’ve lost inside you over the years. Hats, mittens, keys, glasses.

No, you do not give them back every year. I wait while you slowly melt to find the stuff I dropped. Somehow, my class ring never reappears but you manage to retain every single piece of dog shit you’ve collected for the last six months.

See? I can’t do this anymore. You drive me into a frenzy of anger and whining. I can’t even complain about you to my friends because they’re sick of hearing it.

All they say is, “If you hate this relationship so much, why don’t you just move on?”

And the answer is: I don’t know.

Maybe I  like to complain. Maybe it is me. Maybe I’m afraid to try a different relationship.

What the hell is out there for me, anyway? I don’t want to date fog. I don’t want to build a life with dry heat. I know you’ll just follow me to the mountains.

I need to be strong. I need to break the cycle. I need to do something crazy like hook up with a fault line.

Until then, you and I are stuck with one another, Snow.

But from now on, we are just friends. And barely that. I’m sure I’ll see you at parties. Whether you’re invited or not.

I’ll do my best to be civil and if I can’t look at you without screaming, I’ll just hide in my house. But if you pile up on my roof and try to break into my house—I will get a restraining order.

Have a good life, Snow, have a good life.

This story is now available in audio format as part of my comedy album A VERY HOLIDAY THING. The album and the blog post were made possible by funding from Patreon. Thanks, patrons!

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Filed under Comedy Story, Uncategorized