Joselyn Hughes

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Wednesday, June 23, 2010

up yours, buddy!

i’ve been doing comedy for awhile now, but part of me kind of wishes i had started doing stand up earlier.

like at the age of seven.

it would have been right smack dab in the stand up comedy boom of the eighties; when people were willing to throw down fifty bucks and pack out theaters to watch gallagher smash watermelons.

i would have combed my hair back, worn a little tuxedo and gone onstage to recite tired one liners that all ended with the line, “up yours, buddy!”

and people would laugh; laugh like crazy. i would get booked like crazy. i’d open for paula poundstone and at the height of my career i’d do a special with andrew dice clay, smoking candy cigarettes and drinking ginger beer.

he’d do a bit, i’d look at him, roll my eyes, and say, “up yours, buddy!” 100% hilarity.

i would gone on to make guest appearances on family matters, perhaps a hollywood square or two, and then slowly start to lose everything in a fierce battle with alcohol and drugs. afterall, i was a child star.

then hollywood would be done with me.

“up yours, buddy” would begin to take over most of my vernacular. i’d show up in a grocery store, pizza hut, or walk up on random family reunions in parks and start doing my act. people would call the police, and i’d scream things like, “don’t you know who i am? you’re making a big mistake! up yours, ASSHOLE!” and they’d pull me away in cuffs, muttering things about erkel and i’s inside jokes being more genius than any regular civilian would ever understand.

e! would never do my true hollywood story, but you’d see me in the background doing drugs in a couple episodes where they profiled stars that had actually reached some kind of real fame—that would be enough to keep me thinking i was still making it.

i’d creep people out by wearing a tuxedo and asking for change and/or cocaine in dive bars. i would forget that i had grown up and was unrecognizable, or that no one really had ever seen me in the first place.

and then, by the age of which i am currently, i would have really done it. really made it happen. really done the deal.

AND maybe, just maybe, be lucky enough to be on “the surreal life” or “celebrity rehab with dr. drew.”

and while i never accomplished real fame, at least i’d get to witness vern troyer peeing in the corner of the room in the middle of the night. everyone’s got dreams, guys.

if only i would have gotten off my duff in ‘87. dammit.

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