"From The Unpublished Book, "Eating, Drinking, Drugging, Quitting: A Jokebook"?
My Father was a rocket scientist for the Space Program and my mom was a CPA for the Federal Government for 30 years. (But hey, no pressure on me.) I had a full scholarship to Stanford at 16 but didn't use it so I could become a comic. Sometimes Mom and Dad and I get through a whole dinner without that shit coming up.
I love my parents but they're tight with money. My dad dries paper towels on the sink to use again. . . and dates them.
My folks can squeeze a penny until Lincoln turns his head and coughs.
They went to Reno to get married but they didn't because Mom couldn't find the coupon.
I'd call my Mom, and she'd say, "Hello stranger, what's new?" I'd say, "Well, I have a gig in Hollywood, a TV show taping, a writing job, and I just finished a book." She'd say, "So, will $200 dollars hold you?" I would say, "Mom, I just called to say I love you!" "What's the bottom line, Douglas?"
As a fetus, I heard them argue so much, I asked to be put up for adoption.
The difference between my parent's house an a boxing ring is the ring has a neutral corner.
My folks do not hug. They wouldn't even do a Heimlich Maneuver.
I would say, "But you're my mother and father!" They'd say, "Oh, don't take everything so personally. It's always about you."
My mom and dad bronzed the first thing I ever broke. I was always in trouble. My Dad would just say, "Get my belt." Boy, was I glad when he went to those Sans-a-belt slacks.
Too bad when I got spankings it wasn't child abuse yet. "You're grounding me? I'm suing you!"
Someday I'm going to make a horror movie called "Wait Till Your Father Gets Home".
FIRST YOU HEARD THE CAR IN THE DRIVEWAY.
THEN, YOU HEARD THE FRONT DOOR SLAM.
THEN YOU HEARD THAT VOICE YOU'D NEVER FORGET:
"WHAT'S HE DONE THIS TIME?"
"Wait Till Your Father Gets Home" --
"YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO SIT DOWN FOR A WEEK!"
from Chapter 1: ME
My name is Doug and I'm a grateful recovering addict. I was born left-handed in San Francisco on Christmas Day, 1956. I am Italian-Irish -- so you know I have no temper whatsoever.
I can argue with myself and lose.
I could plant a car bomb in my own car, but it wouldn't work.
Born on Christmas Day. Mom always said I ruined that holiday for her forever. Being a Christmas baby sucks because you cannot compete with Jesus. It's like doing a concert when Sinatra's playing next door.
I don't do well with banks and money. They send my Visa card pre-cut in case the cashier has no scissors handy. You know the hologram bird on your credit card? Mine died. My cash bounces. My wife has to have her purse attached to a string and a bell. Is that a bad sign?
I'm the only 45 year old that still gets cash in his parent's birthday card. I once asked my Mom for a loan. She asked for two pieces of ID -- I had to show her my belly button and a birthmark.
People like me. They just have to throw out their first impression.
Whenever I came home with flowers, my girlfriends said, "What have you done this time?" Every woman I was with married the very next guy she dated.
I was the poster boy for self-destruction - they hold up my picture at grade school lectures.
I went to church and said, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. My name is Doug Ferrari and I want to make my confession. The priest said, "I'm sorry -- I don't have that kind of time."