Anyone who knows Tim knows that he has an almost perverse need for attention. Last night, I made the mistake of saying once, in passing, that I might blog about his painfully unfunny ad-libs. (This was after I lamented several times about my weird crying jags.) So far today, he has sent two emails begging me to blog about him. (He’s asked nothing about my inability to stop crying, which only makes me cry harder.)
So, here goes.
Tim loses the crowd pretty early when he says, “Put yo hood up.” The crowd goes silent. Crickets chirp. The Lil’ John fans either hadn’t arrived yet, or like Steve Blow, folks were afraid the mere mention of those lyrics might initiate a melee.
While thanking sponsors, Tim freestyles: “Is Kidd Kraddick in the house? Probably not. He probably big-timed us and didn’t show up. Kidd if you’re here, I never listen to your show.”
You’ve seen the pictures. There were scantily-clad women everywhere. And it was a little weird watching them writhe to “Ticket to Ride,” but okay. Whatever. Everyone tried to ignore the obvious. Not Tim. During one stream of consciousness, he suddenly says, “They are NOT strippers. Go-go dancers. Totally different.” At least one go-go dancer, previously in denial, probably left crying. (Join the club, sister.)
On his second trip to the stage: “Reviews from my first stint up here mentioned two things. I need to hit puberty, and I never said who I was. I can’t do anything about the puberty thing. But I am Eric Celeste. I work at American Airlines. Come talk to me.” Later as we were getting a beer, someone yelled, “Hey, Eric Celeste!” Tim waved.
He showed the crowd how sensitive he is to the plight of the crippled. “25,000 might sound like a lot–and it is. But that’s how much, like, ONE prosthetic leg costs.”
In another unabashed plea for attention, Tim tried to shush the entire crowd and force them to listen. He singled out a few people in the food line. “I see you talking,” he said. Note to Tim: It wasn’t endearing when my 10th grade American History teacher did it; nobody likes you, either.