I live in a fun house with carnival workers…

We moved into our name-ever-changing abode late at night on June 6th of this year (or Devils Day as the lady at the redneck convenience store down the street called it – who, if you want to buy a case a beer – some cat food – and a set of non-full tang samurai swords, all while staring at gas pumps that havent worked in 20 years, is the lady to see).

I stayed for two days of Wal-mart trips for supplies and recreational explosives and went off on the road to Baltimore, NJ and NYC, and Pittsburgh like my constant event invites probably told you. Kerry and Paul were in and out but gone about as much as I was for the next few weeks in short, we havent done much with the place.

In fact let me break for a moment and explain the place and why were there for those who havent been informed I moved to Charlotte back in Jan/Feb of this year into the former glorious residence referred to as the Regret Lounge in place of its co-founder and owner senor Scott No-No as he was pursuing interests of the flesh out of wedlock. He took a job in Tampa, put the Lounge up for sale and graciously gave us 2 months free of rent to relocate. 
The interim was full of chaos and stories regarding Paul that if you dont know them already youll have to ask him or wait for the movie to come out cause I havent the time or energy to indulge any inquires on the matter. At the end of the two months I was renting a room from my buddy Mike and Paul squatting at Tim Kidds trying to procrastinate himself into a new residence while pondering his new found sobriety (again, ask Paul). Kerry, or as I never called him “Care Bear”, was in and out of frame during all of this, crashing with us at the Lounge and trying to relocate both himself and his sense of self simultaneously. If you dont what I mean by the latter, I’m sure Kerry would be more than willing to explain it in full I’d ask him myself for you but hes on the phone tending to things. In all of this the idea was presented why dont we all get a house somewhere, save some cash, and bounce off each others creativity etc., you know… a BAD idea. 
We started looking and Julian presented us with a place he had known since a strange little child simply as: The Dome House. 
I said (and I believe this is an exact quote): “The Dome Who- Fuck you -where is it -lets go look at it now!”
And we did. 
Paul saw it the next day, laughed for 20 minutes and agreed. 
Kerry didnt see it until we moved in again 20 minutes of laughter and agreement.
His son Shaun who will also be living with us wont see it until late tonight (3 weeks later) I plan to time the laughter.

So we live in a Dome house on a dead end road next to a soy-bean field behind a grave yard, that was built in the 60s by someone with an engineering degree and an obvious drug problem. It was designed to withstand hurricanes, a comforting fact in the event a cat-5 makes its way inland a couple hundred miles; until then it’s just ridiculous. 
Ridiculous being the effect it seems to have on peoples behavior too. From Kerry climbing to the platform on the top of the roof in cowboy boots to  “hang out” -  Me welcoming the neighbors at 6am on the 7th with a little electric guitar action via my crate amp and the front porch – Paul and I feeling the late night urge to sit on top of the car port and stare at a field – Jarrod Harris sleeping, eating, watching moving, and even relieving himself in his van in the drive way (ok, actually Jarrod does that everywhere.. I just wanted to bring up the fact that he like to drop a deuce in his mode of transportation) – Mike Storck insisting I let him set off fireworks in the fucking living room (a bad idea actually thwarted… a rarity really) – Paul sounding off an air horn at all hours of the night because it echoes from his tree-house looking bedroom, and he apparently thinks loud echoes are hilarious (on a side note, I dont exactly disagree with him on this) – to most recently, my purchase of a car boot off Ebay to surprise fellow comics who leave their car in my parking spot (a spot that changes periodically depending on where they park their car).

In conclusion, it used to be that when people asked my where I live I would try and explain all the places I have belongings, my travel, my plans, etc. For brief time I could say the Regret Lounge and a select few got the picture weve even tossed about similar names for this newest accommodation, “The Regret Compound” was Kerrys favorite, Paul keeps saying “The Regret Learning Annex”.. today Mike Storck Left a sign on the door reading: “Welcome to Crowd Walker Ranch “

But for now I’m content in just telling people: I live in a fun house with carnival workers.

Hope that made sense the house wrote most of it.