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60 Second Newberg: Observation

Let’s talk about Ghosting…

 

Ever been ghosted? It’s super fun.  Ghosting is defined as the act or an instance of ending a romantic relationship by not responding to attempts to communicate by the other party. In other words, you disappear.

I have to be honest, I’ve never done it. I’m more a of a blocker deleter, but I at least let the person know what’s up first. I however, have been ghosted a ton.

Everyone knows dating sucks. And it does. “It’s like finding out that your girlfriend fucked a boy bander, but it wasn’t even someone good it was like someone in O Town or 98 Degrees. Yes, it sucks that much at times.

As a single guy in Los Angeles, I am presented with my share of meeting new people opportunities and I do my best to make the best of them. The bottom line is so many people just flake.  Here is one of my favorites.

I met a girl at a party and we hit it off and by hit it off I mean we talked all night, and then went home with each other and spend a lot of time not talking, but sounding out words and moaning til like 12 or 1 the next day. Translation: We fucked. It was that rare fun connection where we listened to music all night, laughed and just had fun. I think I even gave her a cool shirt as a gift. Imagine, sex so good, you needed to give a present. Wait, I just figured out marriage.  They should make a post sex shirt that says, “Hey thank you for all the sex, please take this concert Tee.”

The mistake I made was texting her the next day and thanking her and saying I’d like to get together on a proper date. I know, I’m an A Hole. Never heard from her again.  Okay… That’s a drag. Actually I did, but it was months later and the same thing happened. Lot’s of sex, but I didn’t make the mistake of calling her after because I knew that all I was to her was a hot steamy stack of mancakes. I KNEW. Then. Not ever in between. I thought I was horrible. All she had to do was fill me in, but she ghosted and of course ego beat my ass. Never again.

I understand if you’re not into someone, some people are a lot, plus it’s just easier.  But, it’s soooooo easy to say or text, “That was fun. But I’m like done and stuff.” So much better than torturing someone by making them wonder what they did wrong. When the reality is, it’s nothing (I don’t think) it’s just easier for some people to avoid it. Side note: Does that work with bills, food, responsibilities, and babies? Maybe I don’t know. Side note again: Have you seen my baby?

It’s happened to all of us and many of you have done it, because Dating sucks, but we are always going to do it. I’m always going to do it, because I love women. I think women and men know that they can get away with it consequence free and it’s why it will keep happening. It’s like when you go into a Mercedes dealership. The dealer can be an a hole, because he knows if you really want a Mercedes, you’re going to have to get it from them. If you don’t someone else will.

What’s my point? If you don’t like someone, cool, but don’t treat them like they’re dead. Ha. Even if it’s easy or more convenient and technically there really aren’t any consequences, it’s maybe the right thing to do.

Oh, and if you ghost people and that’s your jam, I wish you a wonderful life of happiness with loose skin, too many mirrors that remind you and cats that try and eat you when you’re sleeping.

I love your face

Go away. Come here.

Now Go away.

 

J Chris Newberg

@thechrisarmy

 

 

 

Comedy is hard. Kinda…

“Welcome to Hell…” Is what I always say when I meet a comic that just moves to LA. I don’t say it to be a dick, or even to be funny. I say it because comedy is hard… Kinda.

Perks:

You have a lot of down time. Like a lot.
You can participate in any kind of vice you want, and you probably won’t get fired.
The weather is awesome.
You can write all day.
You work like 15-45 minutes a night.
Everything is funny, so you can write jokes about it.
All the right comics make it and become famous. So if you work hard, you’re fine.
Agents, managers, Producers, casting agents love you. Because you’re funny.
When you accomplish something, you’re perfectly happy for a while.
You can write blogs that people will read.
You’re always happy and supportive.

Cons:
You have a lot of down time. Like a lot.
You can participate in any kind of vice you want, and you do.
The weather doesn’t matter. You’re inside with black out curtains.
You don’t write all day.
You work like 15-45 minutes a night. (Once a week)
Nothing is funny, Why can’t I write jokes about it!
Some of the most famous comics are the least funny, and you and they know it, and it changes nothing. So, suck it.
Agents, managers, Producers, casting agents ignore you. Because they can.
When you accomplish something, you want to be knee deep in the next thing. Yesterday doesn’t matter
You can write blogs that 7 people will read.
You’re always happy and supportive. When people ask, but inside you have fights with the silence.

Comedy is hard. .. Kinda.

I moved out here 10 years ago. I was performing 16 years before that. I have had the lowest lows one could have out here. Car living, illness, heartache, loneliness, poverty, horrible setbacks and crushing defeats. However, I’ve had insane victories and tastes of what I have always wanted. I could give some positive affirmation about not quitting and you will win, or be positive or whatever. Truth is, I don’t quit because it’s not an option. Being funny is in my blood. I can never imagine me doing anything else. When I was at my worst, I never wanted to quit, I wanted to hang on.

Comedy is hard… Kinda.

I hustle. I do it all myself. That’s the only choice. I laugh when I hear a comic or an actress say, “My team.” Ha! Team. I am my team. I think once you have a team, you’ve gone to another level. Like I don’t see Brad Pitt writing a blog. He may have someone on his team do it for him. Because each level you climb, you lose a little bit of what it was that got you there. To be honest, comedy is hard. Way harder than you think, but that’s also why it’s worth it when it works.

I love it. So yeah, comedy is hard, but so is fucking in the dark. Eventually you figure it out and it’s really fun for three minutes til you hate yourself and obsess about it until you get to do it again.

I think…

Lesbian by J Chris Newberg

Heart, Hospital and The What What.

 

A few weeks ago, I went in to the Hollywood Clinic, because I had been feeling sick since January. Short of breath, bloated, tired, not hungry. I thought it was the FLU. Nope.

While I was at the clinic, they said my heart rate was 153 and that it appeared that I was having a heart attack and to get to the ER ASAP. It went like this:

Doctor: You’re having a heart attack.

Me: It doesn’t feel like it.

Doctor: Trust me you are. You need to go to ER immediately!

Me: You want me to drive there? You think that’s safe?

Doctor: Yes.

Me: When has it ever been safe to drive during a heart attack? Should you call an ambulance?

Doctor: That will take too long!

Me: Okay, cool a heart attack that you can drive with. I must be Italian. Oh wait, I am somewhat I think.

So, I did what any normal person who was told he was having a heart attack would do, I drove home, took a shower, and packed a bag. I sat on my bed and had some chocolate pretzels, and some bottled water. Called a friend and had them come get me.

Drove to Cedar’s Sinai Hospital where they admitted me immediately and said that I was not having a heart attack, but it appeared that I have heart failure. They lowered my heart rate and kept me for several days. They checked my arteries, they were clear. They checked blood pressure and cholesterol, both fine. So why was/is my heart rate insane?  They didn’t know. They threw pills at me.

They gave me tons of meds. Beta blockers, water pills, blood pressure meds, blood thinners, magnesium sulfate, and vitamins and sent me on my way. They told me that I was okay to travel and do shows in Milwaukee, but to take it easy.  Vague, but alright.

I travelled to Milwaukee with an arsenal of meds, including syringes that I had to shoot myself in the stomach with. The walking was insanely difficult. However, the actual shows were easy. I spent the rest of the downtime in bed. I was exhausted.  I should not have gone, but I am the only one who pays me and I had no choice. I needed the money, and that’s that.

Came home, went to my follow up visit with the doctors and they said, I looked great, was responding to the meds wonderfully and on the right track. I was fine to go to Dallas and to start exercising and they even reduced the doses of some of my blood thinners. Sweet!

I went to Dallas, did the shows, took it easy, and came back for my final cardiologist appointment yesterday. I hadn’t noticed, but my stomach was liquid bloated again and so were my ankles and feet. Like huge.  The doctors said my heart was functioning at 9 percent and that I needed to go to the ER immediately. However, they also said I looked good, but it was deceiving? So, I did what any normal person told to go to the ER immediately would do, I drove home, took a shower, packed a bag and had a buddy drop me off here again. They admitted me and this is what I know:

I have something called Atrial Fibrillation (The most common cardiac arrhythmia,) an enormous clot on my heart, fluid for days in my belly, lungs and ankles, and Congestive Heart Failure. I got it from a virus when I was stuck in the polar vortex. Wasn’t booze, drugs, sex, rock and roll, bacon, or pudding. I caught a virus at an airport.  Go figure.

Depending on the doctor, they all say something different. Here are my favorites:

“We will try our best.”

“You are very sick. Is your family close?”

“I have seen people live to a hundred with this, it’s very common.”

“This is rare.”

“We can fix this.”

“It’s all about how you respond.”

“I don’t know.”

“You got this.”

So,  as I sit here and wait to speak with my new team of Doctors today, I know that I have been told I will be here a week and I have also been told I will be going home today. I just want to fix this. I was also told, I would be getting my heart zapped into normal rhythm.  I am listening, asking all the right questions and obeying their diet and instructions. I am also determined and capable of handling a lot of pain and struggle. I will either beat this or find a way to live a long life with this. Everyone suffers setbacks. Everyone. But experience has taught me, most are well disguised.  So, in conclusion, I am sick, but I don’t feel it. I am lucky that they found whatever this is twice now early and to me that means, I am supposed to be here and still have things to do. I believe that.  Onward and upward always, especially when it’s super hard to move. Glitter

 

 

 

Happy Newish Year.

So, I just wanted to fill you in what’s happening with me. I am excited to announce that I have a new Podcast called, “Like Super Famous.” It’s so fun and I have already completed two episodes, with the third one coming this week. The link to the Facebook page is below in the comments:

and the link to the actual podcast is also below:
If you like podcasts, give it a shot.

I will be doing Arsenio Hall soon. I don’t have a date yet, but it will be happening when it’s supposed to. I am working to sell two pilots that I wrote, one with Gary Allison and one with Carlson Young. So there will be meetings etc and hopefully they will stick.

Next week I start mixing my hour comedy special shot on tour with Russell Peters in India, Dubai, Sri Lanka, Oman, and Qatar. This will be a totally new kind of Comedy special. I don’t know where that will end up, but I am sure it will land somewhere as well.

Excited about the year. I’ll continue to write and to hustle for myself and for y’all. However, right now I am stuck in a blizzard in Illinois. I am going to start writing something. Maybe a movie. I don’t know.

It’s time to take it to the next level. I fixed the dates and the site so the calendar will be up to date this year.

Rock out Army.

Radio Interview San Diego

J Chris Newberg on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SpuaRIc6xLQ

How To Find Love In LA. Part 4

Love in Los Angeles Part 3