Last night I saw a man. A funny man. A man who, when I was in high school, came into my bedroom many late nights.

Alright, so he was just on TV, but still. We had something special. The State being on television was one of the bright spots of high school.

Oh, Michael Ian Black, how you make me laugh. With your inappropriate and awkward humor. Nazis… YAY! I don’t know how all that way-super-awesomeness is able to be contained in that lanky, scrawny body. I laughed so hard, I almost peed a little. I did hack up a couple lungs, though. The remnants of this stupid cold present themselves when I talk too much or laugh at all. I thought I was going to die. The show was that good.

There was only one dark spot. The hecklers. These asshats next to us kept talking during the opening act (“comedy fluffer” Rob Cantrell). Talking at regular conversation-level and singing and shouting. Really annoying. We said several things to them that they didn’t hear, until K-Dogg (snicker) shouted at them to shut up. A twelve-year-old style argument sprang forth (Why don’t you shut up? Why don’t you? No you! Etc.) It was effective, though. They were quiet for the rest of the evening. Hooray! I still think it helped that I told them that they sucked. At life. Itself.

And I feel quite vindicated that MIB feels the same way I do about the word, “blog.” I say it sounds like a rude bodily function. He says it sounds like another word for stool sample. Awesome.