Up Myself


The medical people have told me I need to get as muscley as possible asap. I also have to lose weight to the tune of 5 to 10% of my body weight. This is the sexiest news that has ever been relayed to me by experts. They’re not just going to save my life, I am going to be cured of dad bod. I’m not even mad that I’ll be too exhausted from exercise to be able to do standup over the next months.

When they first broke the news about how bad it might be, one of my topmost thoughts was intense grief that audiences in desperate need of my towering comedic gifts would miss out for a while. I really did think that cancer had to be fucking kidding me though. I seriously felt like the threat of not being able to do standup was as bad as having cancer, which I also have, because I have cancer.

Well, I have a cancer, singular, just the one, probably not enough to talk about for an hour of extremely self-involved standup comedy, thank god. Imagine how heavy your body would feel as you left your home to come see me talk about having cancer. You’d say to yourself that this is the last time you buy tickets to a show when you’re drunk. “Haha! This will be hilarious!” Famous last words. Now you have to sit in a chair for an hour and pretend to enjoy my self-absorbed bin juice. Anyway, I’m not doing that because I am of the view that comedy should be enjoyable.

I learned a lot from my extremely brief return to standup, and not just obvious stuff like that the comedy world desperately needs me, that’s just a given. When you’re this talented it’s a case of gracefully allowing yourself to be humbled by your own brilliance. Just joking, I don’t need to learn stuff, I already know everything, which some well meaning types have tried to tell me is not the right attitude? Bless them though. Obviously I’m still joking, to the point that right now I am losing track of what the fuck I was talking about. Oh! That! Yeah, so I learned, or more accurately I was reminded that standup is worthwhile because it’s hard to do well.

When I wasn’t autistic I would get on stage and have so many ideas that it was the same as having none. I had very little control of what I was doing. It was super fucking embarrassing and after what felt like a million years I just stopped. A few years later I got the covid vaccine and after that I naturally got an autism diagnosis and everything fell into place. Then I did standup for a few weeks and then they told me I have cancer. The problem with this story is it’s happening to a straight white man who isn’t in poverty, so who gives a fuck? I don’t. It’s so fucking boring . Boooooooooooooooooooooring!

You know what else is boring? Exercise. And I have do it for as much as humanly possible to get in shape for surgery. Like, I was at the gym earlier and I’m going back as soon as I finish writing this. I’m sure I’ll be grateful when I return to comedy and they won’t let me on stage because I’m too handsome. Come to think of it, thanks for reading this pep talk to myself, I want to go to the gym now.

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