An entry from Dan Harmon’s Myspace Blog
Nov. 1, 2006
I guess it's safe by now to tell you:
My parents came to visit me in Los Angeles a month or so ago.
They didn't want me to blog about it because they were concerned that someone could read that they were in Los Angeles, and go rob their house in Florida.
As a man raised by these parents, allow me to inform you that this world is apparently filled with highly intrepid, very cowardly agoraphobic house robbers. The only reason my parents have never had a single one of their homes robbed is because they've been very discreet about their travel plans. And the only reason all home robbery happens in urban areas is because those people all live very close together and they always know when their neighbors are taking a cruise.
We could reduce the crime rate to zero if we all simply adopted a strict "need to know" policy regarding our vacations. I mean, let's really be honest with each other. We all WANT to rob my parents. It's one of those primal urges we never talk about. The thing that keeps us from robbing them is not their burglar alarm, and it's not the criminal justice system, and it's not the ten commandments. The thing that keeps us from going over there right now and looting their luxurious trove of ceramic animals and Betamax tapes is the fact that they're home. We know that while we hold my father's stained glass butterflies in our gloved hands, estimating their street value by head-mounted flashlight, they'll be standing there reciting storylines from Everybody Loves Raymond and asking us when we're going to get married. And that's enough to make us think twice. It keeps honest people honest.
Speaking of marriage, I went to Chris Tallman's wedding in Chicago last weekend. That does not mean he's on his honeymoon so please swallow your temptation to head for his apartment with your suction cups and glass cutters.
I've never cried at a wedding, for the same reason I've never cried while getting an oil change. A guy checking your brake fluid, two people mumbling through promises to cherish, they go in the same drawer of my emotional filing cabinet. Same folder, really. But at the reception, Tallman's little brother Matt got up and talked about the day Chris moved out of the childhood bedroom they shared, and my eyes got wet. Then Tallman's Dad got up and ....I can't even summarize it, it would sound stupid if I did; he referenced a scene from Finding Nemo and he talked about his kid leaving the nest. It was all in the delivery. Water squirted out of my tear ducts and halfway across the dance floor. I kept my head really still and didn't wipe so that nobody behind me would know I was crying. Then the toast was over and I quickly dabbed my face with a napkin, and when I turned back to the table, a room of a hundred fifty or so people were weeping in silence.
I got drunk and hit on an old friend at that wedding. She wisely turned me down.
I hit on four o�ownr five women at the party after the Channel 101 show on Sunday. One at a time. Bing, bang, boom. Want to go out? You're here because you enjoy Channel 101, right? Well, Dan Harmon of Channel 101 is hitting on you. You're welcome. What do you say? Okay, nice talking to you, bye. Very lonely. Very horny.
Doesn't matter. What's the point of being with someone, anyway. Best case scenario, you mumble some vows into a bad sound system, your Dad makes everyone cry, the DJ plays "Hey Yah," you have children, you go to their wedding, you make everyone cry, you go home and find out you've been robbed.