Tarun's Thoughts

Cougars, Lions and Tigers. Oh My!

2011-11-14T19:25:00.000-08:00

So I’m reading this in the news, “Cougar J Lo is reportedly dating 24-year old, Casper Smart.” God, I love this town. Let’s forget about the fact that somebody actually named their son Casper. Let’s focus on that this is probably the only place in the world outside of prison where you can date someone 20 years younger than you and nobody cares.

George Clooney is 50 years old, his girlfriend Stacy Keibler, 32. Katie Couric, that wholesome 54 year old TV news correspondent? She’s slamming some dude 17 years younger. Film director Roman Polanski was 43 when he hooked up with 13 year old… well, never mind. You get my point.

Some people do make a big deal of it, and I don’t get it. Hollywood is a really hard town to meet people. It must be even harder when you’re a celebrity and everyone knows who you are. You think George Clooney is on Match.com? He is! I saw his profile. This is what it says:

“Hi, I’m an actor. I like long walks on the beach, sushi and Nickelback. Oh yeah, I was voted People Magazine’s Sexiest Man alive 12 X’s and am worth 200 million dollars.”

Pretty much all my single friends (both girl and guys) gripe about finding love in L.A. and it’s fair to say that both sexes think that the other gender is insane. Girls think men are pigs, guys think girls are drama queens. Both are correct. In fact, I would never date a transgender person because they are probably lunatics.

So I think if you do meet someone who is from a different generation but you connect with their personality or you feel a deep attraction for their wallet/purse, you should definitely go for it.

Me personally, I don’t date anyone under 25. Not because I don't like younger girls, but I can’t fake talking about Justin Beiber for more than 60 minutes at TGI Fridays. *Editors note - If it was 3 years ago and you were Asian, I would give you more leeway, but I grew out of that phase.

So next time you want to date someone who is vastly different in age, but you’re afraid of what people will think. Well, it’s that or you’re the weird guy/girl who lives alone with your cats. You decide. I’m picking Jlo. Unless I named my cat Jlo which would make it extra creepy.

In Time... For What?

2011-11-01T18:04:00.000-07:00

I just saw the movie “In Time” with Justin Timberlake. Yes, I saw the 2pm show on a Tuesday with four other people in the theater. (Yes, this is my life. Check my tumblr page at tarun.tv if you really want to get scared)

I’m not here to review the movie, but the gist of it is that everybody has a counter on their arm, and life is slipping away. In this fantasy world, time is literally money. So rich people can live forever and buy more time while poor people face an early death.

I’ve got to stop watching high-concept movies that deal with time. For some reason, they make me over analyze my life purpose, and I’m not sure if that's good or bad.

(Remember, Adam Sandler’s “Click?” Where the guy has a remote control and can fast forward time? I couldn’t sleep for like three days. Seriously!)

What does this tell me? I have problems and should seek therapy. But it also makes me aware that we have a finite amount of time on Earth. In my opinion, most of humanity has numbed their minds and slog through life using various coping mechanisms: alcohol, career, family.

I used to think Hollywood was the anti-thesis to this. After all, it’s the land where people risk everything in pursuit of their dreams. And then I look around and see my ego-driven acquaintances who would push their grandmother in front of a moving truck for under five lines on "How I Met Your Mother." I want to shake these people and yell, "Is this what you really want?!"

I, myself, am the worst because I am driven to not lose. So I spend inordinate amounts of time doing things I have no interest in. It's like being trapped in a Reality TV show where the contest challenges keep coming, each one larger and more insane than the last.

My point to all this is that I think everybody can benefit by sitting down for a few minutes and trying to find some objective. It's a simple thing to do, and I'm not sure if people take the TIME to do this. (I'm never using this word again) I’ve been lucky to meet some great people who have: comedians, teachers, doctors. There is this guy who uses a leaf blower outside my apartment every Friday morning. He's always smiling. I think he may be high, but I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he's found something that he likes to do.

I think that’s the difference between people that live happily and do meaningful things vs. people who watch Justin Timberlake movies in the middle of the day.

I'm going to go watch Captain America now.

Moral Dilemma

2011-10-26T16:28:00.000-07:00

I was a bit undecided about what to blog about today. On one hand, Lindsay Lohan is doing community service at the morgue. On the other, the nation is having a financial meltdown and people are taking to the streets.

In an effort to not become any dumber while living in L.A. I'm going to blog about the latter. Namely, the arrest and 11-year jail sentence of finance titan Raj Rajaratnam, who ran the hedge-fund at Galleon Group, and the imminent court date of Rajat K. Gupta former director at Goldman Sachs. Apparently, these guys were best buds and were sharing inside information. Maybe it's because they both had the same nickname "R.J." Whatever the case, WHOOPS!

As a South Asian, I'm troubled by this. Not because they did something wrong but because they got caught. I know it's immensely greedy and a lot of innocent people were hurt. I guess I'm biased towards Indians. Probably because Hollywood is a dogfight for South Asians while finance seems like a meritocracy where you just have to be smart. Anyways, Rajat is indicted on 5 counts of securities fraud and faces 20 years for each count. Looks like he better use his money to buy a time machine and fix this mess because he is not going to get off easy.

A little while ago, I was planning to work at CAA, a talent agency in Hollywood and I was having nightly meetings with my other friend who worked at WME, a rival talent agency. We were coordinating ways to share information for personal use. Did we care? Not the slightest. As anybody in Hollywood knows, living here is like total anarchy and you fend for yourself.

It makes me think that some South Asians are hyper competitive, and we are wired to pull every trick in the book. To think, thousands of years ago we were probably goat herders and things were the same.

Goat herder #1 - Hey did you hear? Raj is retiring next month and will be selling his goats.
Goat herder #2 - Are you insane?! You can't tell me this! That's illegal. (thinks about it) Saaaay.... how many goats does he have?

We live in a country where our forefathers stole land from Native Americans so we could build Walmarts. Perhaps our absence of morals is substantial proof that we have successfully assimilated into American culture.

USA baby, USA.

Crackhead Darrell

2011-10-24T16:19:00.000-07:00

Well, it was revealed in the news today that Darrell Hammond is a crackhead. Ok. He isn't a crackhead but he did use crack and had to be "taken from the NBC infirmary to New York Hospital in a straitjacket" when he was on SNL.

All this time I thought he was really good at impressions, turns out he was probably going through a drug trip and was channeling the voices in his head. Go figure.

I once did a pot brownie in the middle of the woods. I couldn't even stand up and passed out in my car. Around 4 am a forest ranger knocked on my window, and told me I was parked on the grass. Still high, I saw something banging on the glass and thought a monster was trying to eat me.

Still, I'm NOT against drug use. If it means that I'll be more successful, sign me up! I just don't know what drug to commit to. Booze, I don't like the taste. Needles, I'm afraid of sharp things. Pot/Crack, I have asthma. What's left? I guess I could sniff a bunch of paint thinner. Is this even illegal? Swat team busts into my apartment, and I have all these open paint cans lying around the floor. YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!

I guess for now I have no choice but to just settle for never reaching my full artist potential. I'm going to go to the gym now. Hey, wait a minute. I work out several times a week. Almost like I'm.... addicted. YES!

Indian Wedding Reception

2011-10-22T17:51:00.001-07:00

I'm about to go to an Indian wedding reception. The wedding was yesterday and the reception is tonight. There's so many events at Indian weddings. I think there's a post-reception next week to celebrate tonight's reception.

Whenever I go to a wedding my first thought is "wow, these people have to spend the rest of their lives together... forever" Actually wait, my first thought is, "are there any hot girls at this thing?" No wait, that's my second thought. My first thought is "what time are they serving dinner?" No wait, even that's not right. My first thought is "will anyone notice that there's a big stain on this suit because I spilt maple syrup on it at IHOP last week and didn't have time to get it dry cleaned."

The point to all this is I can't be the only person who over-analyzes every situation they walk into. Just walk in, put a big fake smile and congratulate the couple. When people ask me what I'm up to, I'll tell them that everything is great and then proceed to check my phone to make it seem like I'm so busy.

me - "Hey, hold on, one sec I have to take this."
other person - "Your phone isn't even on."
me - um...

So off I go to experience merriment and laughter. Congrats to everyone who is able to get through the night and wake up tomorrow without a hangover. I hope I don't spill any alcohol on me.

When Animals Attack

2011-10-20T15:06:00.000-07:00

This is what I read in the news this morning:

"Deputies shot and killed 18 rare Bengal tigers, 17 lions, six black bears, two grizzlies, three mountain lions and a baboon. Six animals were captured and sent to the Columbus Zoo, a wolf was found dead and a monkey was still at large, though feared eaten by a lion."

Forget the fact that this is news in America. This sounds like some kind of horror movie where the zoo animals revolt and humans fight back. My favorite part is "monkey still at large, though feared eaten by the lion" Obviously, there was some dissidence in the group and the lion took care of business.

But seriously, this story is hilarious to me because the owner of this "animal preserve" ended up shooting himself after releasing the animals. He pretty much was like "fuck it, if i go down this shithole town is going with me." Which brings me to my next point. If we want to avoid such a catastrophe in the future, we need to have some kind of regulation which prohibits people from having more than 10 Bengal Tigers. 9, OK. I get it. But 17?! Dangerously excessive.

Also why did he only have one monkey? Maybe he was like Michael Jackson and used the baboon as a personal assistant. That would explain the lion's deep-seeded vehemence because he was finally able to seek revenge on his jailer.

Or possibly, the owner of the preserve was trying to emulate "Noah's Arc" and was collecting specimens in case a giant flood kills us in 2012. These specimens were supposed to be the survivors to procreate in the new Earth, in which case deputies just made them into living room rugs.

There are a lot of unanswered questions here. As a citizen, I think we need to demand why these animals were killed. Me personally, I think they were super smart and were being experimented on by the government and trained like the X-Men. They managed to escape and were put down. The government has led us to believe an entirely different story. Yes, hard to believe but so is "wolf was found dead" insinuating that he took his own life.

That would never happen.

Tarun Shetty - Writer

2011-10-20T00:51:00.000-07:00

Wow, this is my second post this week. It's happening. I can feel it. I'm writing again.

If you are an old school fan of tarunshetty.com then you know that I used to write in my online blog once a week. I've always loved to write. Mostly because it's one of the few things I'm actually decent at or deluded myself to thinking I'm good at. If you've read my other blog entries, you know that I was never a good "communicator" and was very shy growing up so I think I forced myself to learn how to use a pen. I've used this skill for good -- to write motivational stuff for readers. And sometimes evil - sophomore year of high school I wrote a ten page biography on a person that was supposed to be true but was, in fact, entirely fiction.

Then slowly, I've been pulled into 1000 different projects and i lost all my free time. These past two years, I was working for a movie producer and literally spent 10-15 hours a week writing script coverage. So naturally, when I finally did have free time, I wanted to be as far away as possible from a computer keyboard. (When I did try to write my thoughts, it was mostly profanity and vitriolic messages that would rival the diaries of most serial killers)

I think my true passions are coming back. The movie, Starship Troopers was on TV and there was this great quote in it. Johnny Rico, the lead, asks his high school teacher if he should join the academy and fight space aliens or go off to college and the teacher responds "the greatest human freedom is the ability to make our own choices" (I'm paraphrasing here, but it was something of that nature). Johnny then joins the academy, which was a good decision because the aliens end up destroying his hometown and his family dies.

This really struck home. Meaning, in life, we're constantly being pulled and tempted by so many different things and for some reason we feel obliged to do them. However, EVERYONE HAS A CHOICE, which is an easy thing to forget.

The message here is if you don't want to do something, say no. Otherwise, aliens will destroy your hometown and everyone you love will die. The-End.

Saturday Night

2011-10-16T01:31:00.000-07:00

Well, it's officially Sat night. It's 1:16 in the morning and I just got back from the Parlor in west hollywood. I spent most of the evening talking to my friends Josh Wade and Jay Montepare, two talented comedians. Scary that I didn't even TRY to talk to any girls. I didn't even check any girls out. I'm starting to think that I'm asexual. Like I just don't care. Maybe my sex drive is gone. Who knows. I definitely can live without drama. Perhaps being by myself for now is a good thing.

I also haven't produced any major undertakings in a while. I spent the last three years producing a feature movie and I don't want to do anything right now. I just wake up, write jokes. Sometimes I have an audition, go the gym, and at night I do stand-up. I was very angry two months ago. Just a bitter aftertaste from all the nonsense in this town. I think that's what life is about. Figuring out what makes you happy and just do that. But I also feel like you have to follow your instincts and sometimes your instincts tell you to do things which at times, seem like someone is beating your head with a rock.

I don't know. If I ever try to give you advice, don't listen to me because I probably don't know what I'm talking about.

later ~

Tarun's New Website

2011-10-07T03:30:00.000-07:00

Well, it's 3:26 a.m. and I finally finished this new website. It's about time. I'm sure news of this creation will be on the front page of Google news tomorrow morning and I expect this website to crash because of the millions of expected hits.

I was a bit frustrated that I couldn't make a comment section and email list, but I figure people can just add me on fb or email me using the contact form. Ok. that's it. Nothing really to blog about. I did stand-up tonight. Some jokes worked, some didn't. This seems to be a consistent pattern over the past 14 years.

good night!

Letters People Send Me - Nov 15 - 2010

2011-10-06T02:08:00.001-07:00

Letters People Send Me

Monday, 15th November

Yes, it’s been a while. If I could put a new blog up here every day keeping everybody up to date, I would. However, time is fleeting, and I apologize for being AWOL. Anyway, we at RDP truly appreciate the support, and thanks to all the cool media outlets who have given us coverage the past few months.

I’ve also been getting a lot of FB messages/emails asking random stuff. Unfortunately, we’re not Google and don’t have an admin support team so I picked a handful of questions and answered below. After reading, if you still need to know something please bug our production coordinator Yalda Sadiq. She has a fb page, and she would love to fb chat.

Tarun what the f**k is going on with your movie Bobby Khan’s Ticket to Hollywood? It’s been like 5 years? – Dev

Dev, First of all you need to buy a calendar because it hasn’t been five years. It’s been seven years. Making a movie is very hard. Especially a good movie. We at RPD pride ourselves at making quality work and this movie will define what we are capable of. We’re working pretty hard and laboring over every detail to the best of our abilities. Bobby Khan will be worth the wait.

….when is the next Desi OC coming out? Also, how come you guys aren’t on youtube anymore? - Sujatha

Hi Sujatha, we have shot 3/4 of DESI OC 17. Hopefully it will be out very soon. The reason we are not on youtube is because we are sponsored by the magnificent Shaadi.com (according to the contract, I have to write that every time I mention the site) Although we can’t run private ads on youtube, you can keep up to date with all DESI OC episodes on our homesite Raisingdesi.com.

… did u create your shows to hook up with desi chicks in Socal? -Ravi

Yes, that’s it totally.

Is that girl in the yellow bikini from Desi OC 11 single? – Josh

Is every guy who watches Desi OC some sort of creeper? She's a robot. We built her. Check out the 80's movie Weird Science. It's based on us.

I heard Russell Peters is in your Bobby Khan movie. Can you give me his contact information? I’m making a movie and want to get a script to him.

Yes, he is. Here’s his contact info – http://www.russellpeters.com/

… (long rant about some school and an annual Bhangra show) We were going to get you to host it. Aren’t you some kind of stand-up comic? You performed at Tulane in 04’ which is an two hours away. What happened to you? - Aafreen

I still do stand-up comedy but only in L.A. clubs in front of 15 people at 1 in the morning. (my personal webpage lists my upcoming shows) I started a production company so I could make comedy movies.

…. big fan of your Rising Desi’s. I’m moving to Hollywood. We should meet for coffee. What’s your number? Mine is, XXX-XXX-XXXX. In the meantime, can you give me advice on how what I should do? – Prakash

Prakash, First of all, our company is Raising Desi not Rising Desi. We’re not a bakery. Also, I run it with Atif Mirza who directs everything and has written a lot of stuff. Yes, lets get coffee.

Here is my contact info - http://www.russellpeters.com/

Re: how what you should do. I don’t know what it is you seek but grammar seems your strong suite. I recommend becoming an English teacher.

best,

Tarun

No Fear - May 4th - 2010

2011-10-06T02:07:00.001-07:00

No Fear	Tuesday, 4th May
Trust me when I say, never in my wildest dreams did I ever think my present life would be possible. If you throw me in front of an audience and give me a microphone I can handle myself pretty well. I hosted a segment on a TV show and I’m a decent comedic actor. Without a doubt, I think my ability to speak is my best quality. But this wasn’t always the case. Growing up I had a speech impediment. Yep, it’s true. I’m not going to say what sound I couldn’t say because to this day I’m still insecure about it. But I assure you from the time I was a teenager, I have spent more time practicing my speech probably more than you have spent driving your car. (in L.A. that’s a lot) My speech is better than perfect and I dare you to try and find any flaws. But as a kid, talking out loud was the bane of my existence. Being a child is awful because you have no perspective of the world and you don’t know if you’ll ever grow out of your insecurities. I prayed to God for help. I hated being pulled from class to work with a speech coach, being teased at school (there are kids from my hometown that I still refuse to add on facebook) people asking you what the heck you just said. I remember somebody once asked me if English was my first language. It can really mess with your head. But talk to any kid with a speech impediment. You learn tricks. You quickly learn what words you can and can’t say and you expand your vocabulary out of necessity. So one summer in high school I enrolled in Boston University’s College of Communication Broadcasting school. I thought this would be a great way to learn about TV/Film, something I was interested in. You can imagine my horror when it was brought to my attention that all prospective students had to report to the broadcasting booth to check your speech. It was like going to the dentist or something. You had to talk into a microphone for 5 minutes and read a passage while a speech pathologist analyzed your words. This was not in the brochure. I thought about packing my bags. If I was going to be sent back to New Hampshire it would be by my own choice not because some guy with a Masters degree thought I would be better off as a mime. My appointment was Sat, 1pm. My roommate Danny had his appointment 7 days earlier. He walked in smiling, still holding the script they tested him on. “Cake.” Danny grinned. His father was the host on a national radio show so Danny had his dad’s genes. He even sounded like he was a professional radio DJ. Danny crumpled up the paper and threw it in the trash. When he left for dinner I picked it out and looked at the words. Words that would decide where I would be spending the next 8 weeks. I CAN DO THIS. I practiced that passage the following week. Hour in the morning, hour at night. I even bought a recorder at Best Buy so I could hear my pronunciation and went through three sets of batteries. I was going to pass this test. Danny walked in one day and busted me reading in front of the mirror. “What the heck are you doing?” I revealed to him my problem and he told me I was “over thinking” it. “It’s just a stupid speech test.” he explained. “For you maybe” I thought. “This test is my life.” Saturday rolled around and I was ready. I had the whole passage memorized so I didn’t even need the sheet. I stepped into the sound booth and saw a microphone and a headset. On the music stand was a sheet of paper. Through the glass I saw the speech pathologist, a rickety old man, listening through a set of headphones. His muffled voice crackled through my earphones. “Just read what’s on the paper until I tell you to stop.” I picked up the paper -- it was a different passage. The SOB gave me a different test! I’m panicking. I am screwed. I could just see Danny and all the other kids in the program laughing at me because I couldn’t get by this retarded speech test. Should I walk out? What the heck is this old man going to do. If he tries to stop me I will knock him out. Then I’ll take the whole school hostage. I’ll be yelling from the top of the communication building, making demands through a megaphone but nobody can understand me because I still have this lousy speech problem. WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS! But this was just a fantasy. I took that test. Three minutes into it I hear “Ok, that’s fine. Thank-you.” “Am I set?” “Yes. That’s fine. Can you please close the sound booth door on your way out?” “Um, sure.” And that was it. I passed that test and went on to have a great summer. It was a moment where I realized that with preparation, no challenge is insurmountable. If nothing else, I know that to be true. And if you’re a kid reading this and you have a speech impediment, it’s not the end of the world. Wait, actually it is. Especially if you want to do comedy or anything that involves talking. So practice and when you're done go practice some more. And pray to God. Pray like you have never prayed before because being a mime sucks. -- Tarun

The Day We Almost Got Shot - Feb 11th - 2010

2011-10-06T02:06:00.001-07:00

The Day We Almost Got Shot

Thursday, 11th February

I don’t want to reveal too much here but we finished the next DESI OC, which will be coming out soon, and the episode almost ended with a bang… literally.

Here’s what happened. One of us had the bright idea to involve a very realistic looking gun in the episode. Being the thespian actors that we are, we rehearse everything before we roll tape.

So there we are in my living room in West Hollywood acting out the scene. Talented actor Brian Swineheart is playing a bad guy and Hedi (Samina) is screaming her head off.

The lines sound good, and Atif and I are ecstatic over this compelling masterpiece. After about twenty minutes, we decide that this is good enough to capture the magic on tape. We head out to our exterior location within my condo complex and start shooting.

“Action!” Brian starts screaming, Hedi is yelling nonsense… when all of a sudden we hear, “FREEZE!!! PUT THE GUN DOWN!”

Hmmm… I don’t remember that line in the script. I turn around and there is a real police officer pointing a gun with a laser aimed at Brian’s head. Another officer shows up also armed with a gun.

Turns out there were ten 911 calls alerting the police of a crime going down in West Hollywood, namely us.

Brian instantly drops the gun, and I’m frantic to explain that this is all a hilarious mistake and he’s stumbled upon the making of America’s favorite web series, DESI OC!

I can’t say he was a fan (nor was he in our demographic) but it was a good lesson for us and for anyone reading this blog.

Anytime you film something with a fake gun in a public area and have your actors scream stuff, people will hear and may do something about it.

I’m glad Brian didn’t get shot that day. After all, he has a big part in our Bobby Khan movie and we’ll definitely need him for marketing and press junkets.

I’m also lucky because we reshot this scene at another location at Pico/Olympic, Los Angeles -- an area where people get shot all the time so nobody called the police.

So when you watch the next episode remember that team RDP almost got killed. It was a good reminder how lucky I am to work with a dedicated team who believes in a vision but who can also shield me from stray bullets.

That’s gotta be worth something.

--tarun

Jet Lag vs. Tarun vs. The Elderly - Jan 18th - 2010

2011-10-06T02:05:00.001-07:00

Jet Lag Vs. Tarun Vs. The Elderly

Monday, 18th January

I am so freakin jet lagged. I got back from India last Sunday and have made no attempt to fight my jet lag whatsoever.. It’s so random that I just fall asleep in the middle of the day. I feel like this is what it’s going to be like when I turn 80. You think your day is going fine and then BAM – nap time! I’ve realized that this is a good thing and I’ve become more envious of the elderly. Old people can just fall asleep in random places and passerbyers give them a free pass because of their age. I once saw an elderly guy with a headband sleeping on one of those sit down exercise bikes at the gym. He could have been dead, but everyone was like “Shhhh…he’s so cute!”

I’ve also noticed that the elderly can get away with having s***** attitudes. I was in line at Rite Aid and this walking mummy of a lady was in front complaining that the pharmacist was too slow and NOBODY WAS PAYING ATTENTION! I complain for two seconds and everyone says I should see a therapist. WTF?

And lets not forget about that if you’re old people and have money you can still bang chicks 1/4 your age. I swear, if I see one more rich dude walking with a cane on Melrose and holding hands with a girl that could be his granddaughter…

Let’s be clear. I have no problem with the elderly. In fact, I really believe the majority of them are sweet and nice and the grandma next door to me frequently bakes me cookies. BUT… if you see a complaining old person who may look like he/she might be worth a couple million dollars and he’s giving you attitude. Just push him out of the way and keep walking. If I see you do this I will probably hi-five you on the street. We are stronger because God made it so and we should take advantage before time takes our soul. Peace. Love. Joy.

Mother India - Dec 2009

2011-10-05T13:51:00.005-07:00

Mother India

Thursday, 31st December

Happy holidays to everyone. I’m writing this from my grandmother’s house in Bangalore, India. It’s the final stop of a life changing experience through my motherland. The past few days I’ve been to Jaipur, Delhi, Mumbai, Agra and Udaipur. I feel like I’m on that TV show “The Amazing Race” with no prize money.

As I expected, India is a beautiful country filled with culture and history. In addition to the Taj Mahal, Mosques and museums, I’ve toured palaces that Indian kings lived in. (Shah Jihan, Jodhaa Akbar, etc…) and has really changed my perspective about life back then.

The most meaningful thing I discovered is that some of the kings had like 30 concubines! Which means they could have a wife and then like mess of other girls they could fool around with on the side. Are you serious?! That is the most awesome thing I have ever heard. I don’t know who abolished the concubine rule but they deserve to be shot. I would be happy with 7 concubines. Even four is OK, I’m a simple man. Nothing crazy, but just enough so that I when I enter a club people are like “Who’s that gangsta with the concubines?”

And while I’m on the topic of being shallow, I’d like to take this moment to slam Northern Indian girls. I’ve gone through my entire life with people telling me that North Indian girls are the most beautiful girls in the world. Seriously, I saw like three girls my entire trip and one of them was a Jet Airways airline stewardess. In my opinion, girls in Mumbai and Bangalore definitely have an edge with Delhi, Udaipur, Agra, and Jaipur following behind. (in that order)

I would like to remind everybody that this is still all in theory and I wouldn’t recommend citing this blog for academic research papers. And if this blog didn’t do it for you, I’ve been shooting a video about my trip. It will probably be called “Trailer for Twilight 3” just so I can get more hits on youtube. God speed and happy new year!

Fa-la-la - Dec 14th - 2009

2011-10-05T13:51:00.003-07:00

Fa-la-la-la-la

Monday, 14th December

Hey Y’all. I’m leaving for India tomorrow for two weeks. I'll be traveling all around, Mumbai, Bangalore, Delhi. I'm going to try and make a new video while I'm over there. Tarun Goes to India Part II. Also, we are well into editing our feature movie “Bobby Khan’s Ticket to Hollywood.” It looks great! A lot of hard work put into it by team RaisingDesi and I can't wait to share. I hope everyone has a great holiday and new year ahead! Xoxoxox—tarun

Tiger Woods is My Hero - Dec 8th 2009

2011-10-05T13:51:00.001-07:00

Tiger Woods is My Hero	Tuesday, 8th December
So Tiger Woods is having some serious problems. I read an article this morning that this guy could possibly have had nine mistresses while married. 9! And his wife is hot. No doubt about that. Which raises the obvious question, are all guys slimebags? Well, I think “all” is a bit absolute, but I think 90% of dudes are cheating assholes. To be fair, 91% of chicks are manipulative crazy psychos. Here’s the problem. When we’re kids we are brainwashed to buy into this fairy tale marriage bs. Girls are like “I’m going to find prince charming.” Guys are like, “I’m going to find a hot wife who will look that the rest of her life and I will love forever.” (plus, if you have million dollar endorsements up the ying-yang, projecting a fake family life is probably beneficial) With that said, if you don’t want to get married – DON’T. I’ve see too many people pressured into marriage and they are miserable. This is a person that you will have to wake up next to for the rest of your life! You will never get laid by another person – ever. I’m not going to quote any fancy stat or whatever. I just think people would be happier if they followed their own instincts rather than succumb to external pressures. I know what people are thinking. “Tarun you’re just bitter because your own relationships suck.” This couldn’t be more true. I am bitter. Very bitter. In fact, I am emotionally dead inside. But with an empty soul comes clairvoyance and I speak the truth. Quoting from the bible Apostle 16:32 “Get laidth us much as possible and enjoy your life” So if you still really want to get married, go for it. Good luck to you and your Thursday date nights at Blockbuster. But lets not crucify Tiger, let’s thank him. This man has shown us what a sham marriage can be if done for the wrong reasons, and we should all pay attention. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Esr_okP5Qmo&feature=channel

Day Job Advice - Nov 13 - 2009

2011-10-05T13:50:00.003-07:00

Day Job Advice

Friday, 13th November

I had a day job… for such a long time. I’m not going to lie, it sucked. I know many people who love what they do, their office, their collegue, whatever, and I so envy them. But if you have other interests the whole experience is soul killing. As a person who doesn’t have to go into an office but spent ten years setting an alarm clock, I want to give some advice. NOTHING IN LIFE IS PERMANENT!

You could be reading this on a computer right now. Guess what, in twenty years the monitor will probably be in a trash heap. See that pen by your desk? It will be in a landfill. Your boss who has no martial spouse and makes up for the loneliness by micromanaging you? He/she will be dead one day. At the very minimum, you will also be dead and don’t have to deal with lame office x-mas parties and “team spirit” mixers.

I’m telling you, there is hope. I know. Just do one thing. When you do get home tonight, spend 30 minutes doing what you want to do. Writing, painting, pottery. You might enjoy reading about Cats online. Whatever it is, DO IT! Life can be difficult so give yourself that. I know that you’re probably exhausted from work and all you want to do is watch tv and unplug your brain. But this is your only shot. 30 minutes. 1800 seconds. These little things add up. This is my life philosphy. Be so good that they can’t deny you. One day you will wake up on a Friday at 9:32 am, in the comfort of your own bed and be like. “Wow. I am free. I still hope my ex-boss is dead but I am free. Hallelujah.”

The BK Experience - Nov 9th - 2009

2011-10-05T13:50:00.001-07:00

The BK Experience	Monday, 9th November
I am writing this Monday, 3 a.m. I know it’s been a while since I last wrote a blog. Every night I think about writing a new one, and every night I come up with a 101 other things I should be doing. Anyway, November looks to be a good month. We are officially wrapping up our movie Bobby Khan’s Ticket to Hollywood. I don’t want to say too much about it until we officially wrap but it’s been a great journey. I’ve also been watching the dailies and know that everyone will really like it when it’s all done. Part of me just wants to release it for free on the internet so everyone can enjoy it. However, too many people have worked really hard so we’ve got to play the Hollywood game a little bit and see where it takes us. Ultimately, all we care about is putting out the best work and continue to make people happy. I’d also like to thank Ashish Wahi, Prateek Saxena and Azam Mirza. Ash and Azam have consistently come through for us and provided endless movie locations. Prateek Saxena designed our new snazzy RD logo. They say this town is all about “relationships” but I think friendships are way better. Which brings me to another point. Last week we put out a casting looking for an Indian actress. I remember once, we put out a casting and two people sent in their photo, both of them family members. This time around we received a crazy number of headshots. Every girl looked like a model. (where were you when I was 21?) I really wish I could cast everybody because I know how hard it is to get work in this town. Just wanted to say thanks to everybody and we look forward editing this fast so everyone can enjoy. All the best, --tarun

Mr. Conrad Murray Manslaughter - Aug 21 - 2009

2011-10-05T13:49:00.001-07:00

Mr. Conrad Murray Manslaughter

Friday, 21st August

“Michael Jackson's personal physician, Dr. Conrad Murray, will be charged with manslaughter within the next two weeks,”this according to Fox New.

I love Michael Jackson and I love his music but I am tired about reading about his doctor Joseph Conrad. Really I’m tired of it. I’m tired going to the gym and seeing Dr. Conrad’s Murray’s face on all the TV screens. I’m tired of seeing every other article on Google News about him. Last week somebody sent me a youtube video!

This guy is now making youtube videos?! I added Dr. Conrad Murray on facebook, and he still hasn’t gotten back to me.

When I first saw his picture in CNN I was like “Why was Sidney Poitier administering Michael Jackson Propofol?” Now I’m afraid to admit I am a Dr. Joseph Conrad expert. I know where he’s from (Las Vegas) where he went to medical school (Meharry Medical College School Of Medicine) I even know what he got on his SAT’s. (680 Math, 640 Verbal)

So he killed one of the biggest pop icons in the world. These things happen. Look if anybody reading this wants to pay me $150,000 a month I will kill anybody you want. Heck, I’ll kill Lak Rana for free just let tell me where and how.

I’m not condoning what he did but Michael Jackson knew what he was getting into. Especially when you hire someone to drug you every night with hospital drugs. He’s lucky Dr. Conrad was insane enough to do this. Listen, I go to sleep every night the old fashioned way -- a bottle of red wine along with 9 sleeping pills. I tried the Propofol thing and I couldn’t even get the stupid gas from the tank into the stupid facemask.

So when Dr. Joseph Conrad goes to jail, which he will, don’t celebrate. He was just doing what he was paid to do. He just happened to get paid to kill Michael Jackson, which would probably get a death penalty in Bahrain or some other non-English speaking country. But at least he was doing a job, which is a semi-not bad thing.

Shahrukh Khan's Bad Day - April 18th - 2009

2011-10-05T13:48:00.003-07:00

Shahrukh Khan's Bad Day

Tuesday, 18th August

So yesterday I read that Shahrukh Khan got stopped at an airport and was delayed 66 minutes. Today I’m reading in Google news that there are RIOTS in India, which I think is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard. Even more ridiculous than people thinking that Lak Rana is hotter than me. Before anyone sends me hate mail, I think Shahrukh Khan is awesome and is one of the biggest and best stars in the world. However, this stuff happens all the time in airports and we, as South Asians, should accept this for what it is and move on.

Look, stereotypes are a part of our culture. Japanese people can’t drive, Jews are cheap, Indians, we’re super good looking (ok, so this is slightly exaggerated) and almost all brown people are checked three times for being terrorists – especially if your last name appears on a government watch list.

I’ve gotten pulled out of lines. So has my dad. I bet the four people reading this have too. Also, do protests really do anything? Let alone a protest taking place across the Atlantic Ocean? OH MY GOD INDIANS ARE PROTESTING ACROSS THE ATLANTIC! CALL A PRESS CONFERENCE!

Here’s the reality. As much as we’d like to believe, Bollywood stars aren’t famous enough in the US where they can do anything they want like American stars. (Although a few months ago I did see a picture of Akshay Kumar in Hollywood and I swear he was wearing a sparkle suit and gold sneakers. This outfit alone is a felony)

Shahrukh Khan has responded by saying that he will cut down on his US trips, which is unfortunate. I have no problem with whatever he decides. I have more of a problem with Bollywood movies including scenes where the actors play basketball and nobody can dribble! Really, I’ve seen four year olds dribble a basketball better, why write this into the movie? Like all the actors can dunk and they can jump like 30 feet in the air. NOW THIS is something worth protesting.

Trust me, one day if a Mexican blows up a government building every Mexican from here to Tijuana will be have to spend three hours getting their pockets searched. But for now it’s our turn and Mr. Shahrukh Khan will have to deal with it like the rest of us.

--tarun

Blog From A Famous Person - April 2009

2011-10-05T13:48:00.001-07:00

Blog from a Famous Person

Monday, 20th April

It’s Sunday night and I’m blogging. It only took me two weeks to throw out the “I’m going to blog every Sunday rule” so I’ve decided to make this blog super awesome, and I hope you have time to read it all the way through.

So a couple months ago I was trying to get Kal Penn to do a cameo in our movie, Bobby Khan’s Ticket To Hollywood. (Which by the way is coming out great, and you should check it out when we release.)

Also, before you read any further, this blog is not a dis on Kal Penn who couldn’t be a nicer guy. He’s cleared a path for people like me, and we at RaisingDesi wish him the best of luck with his new job at the White House. Continue reading…

Anyway, so I’m sending Kal e-mails. I mail him the script and stuff, and it’s not really going anywhere, and we’re about to give up. Now as some of you may know, I perform stand-up every Monday/Thursday in Westwood which has a karaoke room next door. So one Monday at about 12:00 am who do I bump into? Kal Penn! He’s just chilling with his boys. It’s a freak coincidence. Naturally, I bring up the movie and ask what’s going on. Kal’s like “I haven’t read the stuff yet” which is fine because he’s a busy guy, and I didn’t think anything of it. This town is all about putting yourself out there, and I would have kicked myself later if I didn’t ask.

However, one of our Raising Desi employees happened to be with me. We’re walking outside and he’s like “wow, what a d***! How could he not read it?! You sent it two months ago!”

I politely explained to my friend that Kal is on a network TV show and he probably has people pitching him stupid s*** all the time, and he probably thinks this isn’t any different. What surprised me about the situation was how quick my friend was to judge Kal after a two minute encounter. Trust me. I’ve met lousy people in showbiz and Kal Penn is a straight shooter.

Cut to two weeks later. My friend Tony Kundu, who could possibly be the best South Asian house dancer in the world (look him up on youtube) e-mails me from Canada. He’s like “Hey, my friend is coming to LA. Can you meet with her? I don’t think she knows anybody.”

I am a nice guy, just ask my mom. I hate Hollywood BS, and I look out for my friends, and even friends of friends. I also work my a** off and rarely hang out just for the sake of killing time. But I go because it is a favor asked of me.

The meeting goes ok, and I tell my new friend about LA and the next day, I even ask if she wants to roll with me and my comic friends to a few comedy clubs.

The next week I run into another mutual friend that knows the girl who I just met with. The first words out of her mouth are “What did you say to her?!”

“Excuse me?”

“She thinks you’re arrogant and completely full of it!”

Apparently, in her make-believe world , I started the conversation by saying, “Hi, I’m Tarun Shetty and I’m famous.” And then couldn’t stop talking about myself.

Although in retrospect, the line is hilarious and I wish I did say it, this is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.

Then it hit me. Her same pre-conceived attitude towards me is a lot like the attitude my friend had towards Kal Penn.

I’m not saying I’m famous. In fact, I’m far from it.

One time I sold out a comedy show in Virginia only because people mistook me for M Knight Shyamalan. But as I’m finding out, no matter what I do and no matter how many fans I have there will always be someone ready to shoot me down.

What sucks is that people form opinions about someone and then share their thoughts with others, forcing that person to write a blog that is read by ten million people.

My point is whether the words are good or bad, it’s a good reminder to myself and everybody reading, that only you can determine your self-worth, nobody else.

Luckily, my self-worth makes me famous. I guess that must make me pretty awesome.

Peace out.

--tarun

Digits - March 23 - 2009

2011-10-05T13:47:00.003-07:00

DIGITS 101

Monday, 23rd March

Ok, so both of these stories are completely true! I go for a casting last week and I meet this girl at in the waiting room who gives me her number. I get the digits, and I’m thinking EASY. It’s been a while since I’ve been in the dating scene. Why do guys make such a big deal about getting numbers? It’s cake. The girl was cute, good personality blah, blah. I’m Tarun Shetty, social interaction king. So four days go by and I call her and she doesn’t call back. Wow! OK NOW I UNDERSTAND why everyone complains about this.

Thankfully, I have a million other things going on to distract me but still, rejection sucks on any level so I was irritated. I mean why give me the number in the first place? Tell me you have a boyfriend, you’re a lesbian, you joined the peace corp! Make up something! Cut to yesterday night (Saturday) I get four missed calls from a random number. And then I get a text from the same number reading “DAM, I CAN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU” These calls are coming from a 323 number, around 11pm so obviously, someone out there in LA wants to get with me.

I lost my phone sometime ago with all my numbers so I have no idea who on earth is calling me. I call my friend Lak because we have a lot of the same friends and I’m like “can you call this number?” I really believe it’s this girl from way back when who used to call me but I never did anything. Fate has magically brought her back into my life.

Lak calls me back two minutes later, laughing. He’s like SOME DUDE PICKED UP! I put two and two together and realize it’s some actor/comedian guy who I met sometime back and obviously he got the wrong message.

A part of me was totally grossed out by the whole thing, but then I’m like. You know, this guy is just going what I was doing to that girl I met at the casting. You gotta try.

Ladies, if some guy is asking for your number, just remember he’s just putting in the effort and seeing where the chips fall. And fellas, if some DUDE who looks three days away from being homeless, like he just got out of jail, and you find out that he was selling himself for gay sex 15 years ago for drug money. If he asks for your number. Well, it’s still gross and I get disgusted just thinking about it!

Over and out.

tarun

Blogging - March - 2009

2011-10-05T13:47:00.001-07:00

BLOGGING 101

Monday, 16th March

Ok. So here’s what I’m going to try to do. And I say this with caution. I’m going to try to put up a new blog post every single week. Both here and on my own personal site at TarunShetty.com. At least till our movie comes out or until I get bored and move on to something else.

I’ve actually had a blog on my site for nearly six years but only update it like once a month because it takes me so freakin long to write a new entry. (I consider myself a writer so I always try to make the entries good) However, someone recently told me that Kanye West’s blog is the number #1 blog on the net. So I went to it and it’s like a bunch of pictures. It’s like a blog made by a fourth grader. When he does write I don’t he’s even using complete sentences. I DIDN’T KNOW YOU CAN DO THAT!

So long story short, I’m going to blog how everyone else does. I guess that’s why they call it a blog. Not composition class 101. So from here on out don’t have any expectations for my writing.

Anyways, so everybody knows by now that we are making a movie called Bobby Khan’s Ticket to Hollywood. (it’s on IMDB) It’s pretty exhausting and whatever but so far so good.

I’d like to blog today about the incredible shape I’m in. Yes, that’s really what I’m going to talk about because I don’t think anybody is ever going to realize the amount of work that this takes unless I blog about it. Everybody in the crew knows it because I drive everybody crazy asking questions like “do I look fat in this tank-top?” I think I go to the gym like 5 days a week. I can’t go any more because by the 5th day I’m bordering insanity and am going to shoot everybody. I’m realizing that I can’t get any bigger than what I look like. Seriously, I’m not sure if it’s an Indian thing. Perhaps Indians can’t get big unless I start taking steroids, which may or may not happen. Its sad that I bust my a** every day and then someone sent me a video of Amir Khan (Bollywood film star) training for this movie and he’s all buff. The guy does like 25 pull ups which is crazy! Isn’t he like 60? He also has a home gym and so maybe my point to all this is that I should get a bo-flex.

Tarun Shetty - Zoolander - May 2009

2011-10-05T13:46:00.001-07:00

Tarun Shetty - The New Zoolander?

Wednesday, 11th March

Hey, quick blog. I’m writing this at 1am on a Tuesday. Trying to pack my bags, can’t seem to get away from my computer. Tomorrow morning I fly to St. Louis. Booked some modeling job and they’re flying me out for a couple days for a shoot.

Interesting because never in my wildest dreams growing up that I would one day work as a model. I always thought it was stupid, especially after seeing Zoolander. Yet, I gotta say. Having people pamper you and being able to fly around and see different parts of the word is pretty interesting.

I used to fly around as a stand-up so I know what it’s like but this is slightly different because I don’t have to make people laugh. I know this won’t last forever so I try not to get too attached to it! People ask me what I do and I don’t even know what to tell them sometimes: Comedian, writer, actor, producer, male model! In truth, I really like being an artist. Aside from the total insecurity and the artistic quirks which are misconstrued by others, it’s very liberating.

St. Louis! Of all the places. Why couldn’t it have been Paris? I’m there for three days. I don’t think I even have a car so I guess I’m limited with what I can do. Every time a photographer takes a photo all I think is BLUE STEEL, BLUE STEEL!

A Fine Winter's Day - 2009

2011-10-05T13:45:00.001-07:00

A Fine Winter's Day

Tuesday, 20th January

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” my first grade teacher asked.

“Um, a firefighter” I reply.

I remember this vividly. Don’t ask me why but I do. And I only said “firefighter” because my other friends both said firefighters and I thought we would all drop out of elementary school and get jobs together. It would be funny if we lived in a dictatorship or something and whatever you said when you were 6 you had to become.

Dictator - “You will become firefighter”
Me - “What? Why?”
Dictator - “Don’t you remember what you said in 1984? We have it on tape!”

My point to this is I’m in New Hampshire right now and today my mom found a gray hair on my head. I ran to the bathroom mirror and stared at it. It’s sticking out of the left side of my cranium for the world to see.

I grabbed the delicate strand with my index finger and was getting ready to pull when something occurred to me. This hair was more than just some dead follicle growing from my scalp. Like an army sergeant receiving a purple heart, this hair was being awarded after years of life experience. Every obstacle, every hurdle. They all come fast and unexpected. All we can do we is give our best and accept reality, even if that means not becoming firefighter.

I open the front door of my house unleashing a sub-arctic wind, frosting the tip of my nose.

It’s good to be home.

TV HOST - Nov 29th - 2008

2011-10-03T15:37:00.003-07:00

My Former Life As a TV Host

Saturday, 29th November

I walk amidst a thick crowd of people holding my trusty microphone and followed by a camera guy. A young girl in her early 20’s runs up to me “Hey Tarun! Can I be interviewed?”

I’m a bit thrown off. The way she asked it was almost as if she knew me personally.

“Um, ok”

Her face lights up. I see this look a lot.

I came to Hollywood to become the greatest stand-up comic I could be and yet somehow I developed into the weekly Bollywood host guy who pops up sporadically on the national cable show Showbiz India. For those who don’t watch the show, I guess I could compare it to being the goofy weatherman on TV. When I was recognized people would talk to me as if we had been friends since high school. It’s very hard to explain but this is the best way I can describe it.

To this day I have no idea how I became a Bollywood TV host. I grew up in New Hampshire away from all aspects of Indian culture and heritage. The job introduced me to South Asian parties, Indian restaurants, meeting cool stars and of course, led to me making a fool of myself for the general public.

I wouldn’t want to do it again, but it was a good experience, and I put some of the things I learned below in case someone out there has a similar opportunity that I had.

TV HOSTING RULES 101

1. Don’t give up the mike. This is rule numero uno. Never let go. You are always in control. Even if someone grabs the mike, hold on. Without it, you are powerless.

2. Never give out your phone number no matter how friendly the person seems. Sometimes people would ask me for my number and I would give it out not thinking twice about it. Not only did I accumulate stalkers but I also got a lot more calls from random people who wanted a copy of their 3-second appearance on TV.

Stranger - “Hey Tarun, remember me from three months ago at club so and so. I was wearing the red dress?”

Me - “Of course! You and 400 other people. I’ve been waiting for you to call!”

3. When covering college parties, don’t hook up with girls. Sure, it’s easy and I would be lying to say that I didn’t try. Then I realized that the same girls go to the same parties every weekend! I quickly decided to do all my dating the normal way, internet chat rooms and Craig’s List.

3. Inevitably, at places where alcohol is served, someone will try to pick a fight with you and when that happens, step down. I attracted a lot of attention from girls and guys hated me! It got so bad that I took boxing lessons for two years because I thought I would get sucker punched. My fighting career never went beyond classes, but I’m proud to say that I do have a pretty good left hook.

4. If you interview a family and there’s a kid that looks mentally disabled. Don’t talk to him because he probably is mentally disabled. Let’s just leave it at that.

5. If some dude comes up to you and TELLS you to interview him or his girlfriend and you don’t want to, don’t do it. Remember, in your small hosting world you decide who makes it on TV and who doesn’t. Half the time, guys who demand to be interviewed are big time losers who drive their dad’s BMW’s and spend most of their free time getting wasted. Plus, their girlfriends don’t even want to be on camera which makes for unwatchable interviews

6. Did I mention don’t hook up with girls? I’m just saying….

7. Go all out. When someone has agreed to be on camera its on. I think what makes a good host the ability to show his/her true personality so you can’t hold back. My rule was to always say whatever I thought was funny. Let the editor cut out whatever is not appropriate. Sometimes from a 5 minute boring interview, 10 seconds may be gold.

8. Prepare! I did a bunch of press junkets. It’s where you sit one on one with movie stars talking about their upcoming soon to be released movie. The truth is you have a limited amount of time with the stars and everything is taped so you can’t mess up. I interviewed Neil Patrick Harris for Harold & Kumar 2. I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up but luckily I spent a few hours the night before and practiced asking questions into my camcorder. Yeah, it sounds stupid but it’s better to look like an idiot in the privacy of your home than on national TV.

9. Smile! Charisma is key.

10. Enjoy the moment. Do you know how many lame jobs there are? Whenever I was hosting and hated life I would think “I can’t believe I’m being paid to talk to people!” If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that nothing is permanent. Even jobs. If you ever have the opportunity to be in front of the camera, take it. You never know where it could lead to!

Attached below are the last of the hosting videos, which I shot for Showbiz India a few months back. I was pretty burned out but you can’t tell because I’m a pro. Damn straight.

Me covering a party:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PInbIGWgios

Me covering India’s Independence Day Festival:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HRBiKXFmlGk

best,

Tarun

Movie Blog 2 - Nov 1st - 2008

2011-10-03T15:37:00.001-07:00

Movie Blog 2

Saturday, 1st November

So we are in November and are well into shooting the movie. We’ve been shooting on weekends because this shooting schedule gives us more time to prepare.

Shooting is quite fun… and exhausting. I’m glad we shot all those Desi OC’s because at least I know somewhat how I am coming across on camera. I especially like this project because it’s not all Indians in the cast. Sometimes I get sick of doing everything targeted towards South Asians and it’s good to branch out.

Jerry O’Connell was in my improv class and I asked him to do a cameo in the movie. He didn’t say no but he didn’t say yes. He’s a super nice guy and very funny so I have nothing against him. I would have regretted it if I didn’t ask.

Here are some people in my movie that I’m pretty happy about: Lak Rana, Shazia Deen, Theo Von, Jason Zumwalt, Deema Mauladad, Kunal Shetty. (yes, my brother)

Everybody is showing up prepared and doing a great job. I am definitely better when I’m having fun, so the cast and crew is making my life very easy.

When not shooting, I am constantly thinking and working which is probably not a good thing. I think that after this I will take a vacation but knowing me I will probably just use that time to do start more projects and keep the cycle going. I hate the fact that I can't leave town to do stand-up so maybe I'll just do more of that.

I did manage to go out yesterday and went to a costume party (two actually) I found this sombrero in my closet so I just put it on and carried around a bag of oranges. I know this is racist so you don’t need to e-mail and tell me. Lak Rana rolled with me as well as my little brother. I told Lak that we should just wear our normal clothes and go as “Sanjay and Ajay” but I don’t think people would get that.

Atif and I are going to location scout tomorrow morning. (Sunday at 10 am) I hate the fact that I have to wake up early and drive an hour to check out a location but this is what I have to do.

--tarun

Movie Blog - Sept 24th 2008

2011-10-03T15:36:00.001-07:00

Movie Blog 1 - And We're Off...

Wednesday, 24th September

Well it’s September and after five years in LA we’re finally on our way to shooting our first movie. I’m happy to announce that we’re making the movie under my production company RaisingDesi, which I run with Atif Mirza. I figure we don’t have an official movie site yet so I can use this journal entry to blog about everything from now till the initial release.

In all honesty. sometimes I get scared. In addition to writing/acting I’ll be doing most of the producing. It’s a lot of work, but aside from collaborating with Atif, I can do what I want and think this is the best way to do it. My ultimate goal is to write/produce all my movies. I have some experience, but I’m learning that movie making is a lot more work than what I expected. I’ve never run from anything in my life, and I certainly won’t run from this.

ANYWAYS…. I wrote the first draft this past summer and then Atif and I re-wrote it and made it a lot funnier. I don’t want to say the title, but here’s a hint: I think the script is quite “rocking.”

As of now, we have locked a cast. We spent the past few months auditioning actors. Some great, some forgettable. I can’t believe how many talented people there are in this town. There are also a lot people that are wasting their time, and I don’t’ think “being famous” is a good enough reason to become an actor. I know what it’s like to go into an audition and then walk out not knowing what the heck just happened, so I guess everyone deserves credit.

We did a read through at my apartment last month and both Atif and I were happy. I always find it strange to hear lines I wrote read by actors. Everyone said it was funny but my own insecurities tell me that it needs to be better so we re-wrote it one more time.

It’s getting especially difficult because we are also trying to keep Desi OC going. I’ve already turned down three stand-up gigs in October, but I have to be very careful to not burn out and save myself for when it counts.

I think Desi OC is picking up slowly, and I’m happy with the results and where we’re going. Though sometimes I get tempted to write an episode where “Ajay” has a dream and makes out with every hot Indian girl in LA. Every day I get new fan mail or facebook friend requests (especially from Canada). It helps knowing that all this work is appreciated and makes people happy. It’s also great that we have 8 episodes under our belt because it’s given us a lot of practice with the camera, coordinating schedules and shooting with actors “guerilla style.” Fans of the Desi OC will be in for a big surprise in the movie.

That’s all to report. We’re doing our first rehearsal this weekend and then on to location scouting.

best,

Tarun

Time of My Life - Aug 10th

2011-10-03T15:35:00.002-07:00

Time of My Life

Sunday, 10th August

It’s going to happen. I’ve seen this day coming for sometime now, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Ladies and gentlemen, this Friday, with the company of some of my closest friends, I will be turning 30.

That’s right. (Sorry ladies and everyone else who thinks I’m 25 or whatever.) I’ll be 30, and I’m more than ready for it. Last week, I gave notice at my Bollywood job, and I’m currently working as a television producer at the G4 network. I’m shooting my first movie with my partner at RaisingDesi in the fall, and we’re more than ready. I know that accomplishments mean nothing in regard to age, but it does help knowing that things are moving forward, and I feel I’m right where I should be….

I’d like to take the rest of this journal to briefly recap what I learned the past ten years. Who knows, maybe somebody out there is reading this, and it may help as they embark on their own post-collegiate journey.

From my personal experience, 20’s are about finding out who you are. You’re tested in insurmountable ways, at times wanting to kill yourself only to later realize that these experiences will have a lasting effect on developing your character and maturity.

I hope everything in my life happened for a reason. Maybe in another ten years I’ll be able to better understand it all, and can write another entry. But for now, this is what I learned in a few brief sentences.

And if you’re reading this right now, please feel free to come to my birthday this Friday on the 15th in Hollywood and say hello. Without the constant support from everybody I probably would have given up on these crazy endeavors a long time ago. Check out the invite video at the bottom of this entry. See ya!

Tarun

WHAT LEARNED IN MY 20’s

1. Nothing is permanent.

2. Girls are confusing.

3. If you care about what others think, you become their prisoner.

4. Be nice to everyone.

5. Evil people do exist on this planet, and there is nothing you can do about it.

6. You can’t do everything. You will burn out if you try.

7. As you think, so shall you be

8. Generally, people only believe what they see.

9. Everything happens for a reason. (I still struggle with this daily)

10. Stop comparing yourself to others, there’s only one you.

11. Monitor and check your ego.

12. Preparation, preparation and more preparation.

13. Try to enjoy the moments where everything seems awesome. (remember #1)

14. Everything is a numbers game.

15. You form habits, habits form you.

16. Sometimes the best way to cope with problems is to just be.

17. Keep your dreams and goals alive despite all circumstances.

Birthday Video

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LnI1nwfUUMU

How Not To Succeed in Business - July 3rd

2011-10-03T15:35:00.000-07:00

How Not to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying

Thursday, 3rd July

It pisses me off when I hear someone say they can’t do something. It’s my pet peeve. I find it annoying. I don’t want to hear it. So when people tell me that I am not capable of something, well don’t even get me started.

I say this to everyone, whether you’re in showbiz or not, you’re responsible for your own life. You set your own path. Do you ever see someone do something and you’re like “I wish I could that.” You can! If you’re afraid of doing something, do it anyways. And when you’re finished, do it again. I guarantee by the 1000’x time, you’ll be pretty good and somewhere out there, you’ll be inspiring others to do the same.

Flashback two years ago.

I was in our television offices when my producing partner, Atif, comes running up to me. “So and so agreed to a meet us!”

We had just started raising money for our first movie. We were asking anyone and everyone. Family, friends, whoever. The thing about raising money is that it’s like the wild west. There are no rules. You can ask and get nothing for years and then one person comes along and gives you 5 million dollars because he wants to see his name in the credits. It makes no sense.

So a few years back Atif and I set up a meeting with a very wealthy business person. I can’t mention his name for obvious reasons. But he was Indian, worked in computers and once funded a movie on his own that didn’t go anywhere. There are many people like that in Hollywood. I’ll leave it at that.

I used to get mad at Atif when we started out trying to set up business meetings, we’d send out these query letters asking to meet. “We’re not business people!” Atif would say. I hated it when he said that because deep down, I knew it was true. Neither of us had experience in anything related to business. I once had a paper route, and I gave it up after a week. I went to film school and work as an on-air host. The toughest part of my profession is putting on my own make-up on for TV shoots.

Still, I wanted to learn how to run a production company so meeting a financier one on one was a good place to start.

We met our financier at Starbucks. A nice, friendly environment. What could possibly go wrong? Atif and I showed up early and got the corner table. Our “investor” showed up 20 minutes later.

He was quiet and sort of reminded me of my uncle. The only difference was that this guy truly believed that he was the Jerry Bruckheimer (famous Hollywood producer) of India. For an hour we listened about how great his past film was (the only film he’s ever made), how “script” is the most important thing in a production, and most importantly, his critical analysis of our webisodes.

We responded like two mental patients let loose. I rambled with really no sense of purpose while Atif vehemently defended our productions. “We get fan mail from around the world!”

I realized at some point in the meeting that this 50 year old computer software guy from Northridge wasn’t our normal 15-35 demographic. I’m willing to bet that “Desi Karate Kid” didn’t tug at any emotional heart strings.

In retrospect, the funniest thing was that we didn’t even have a business plan or investment model to present. We were just like “Hey, we’re funny guys! Give us your money!”

So, two hours later, as we’re getting ready to leave, he says “Send me script. If I like, I’ll give you 300,000 dollars.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. We somehow just convinced this random guy to read our script and potentially launch our film careers. We were in business! Hooray!

Our investor leaves and Atif and I head out the door to the sidewalk. We’re talking excitedly like two girls about what just happened.

“Wait.” I say. “What if he drives past and see’s us blabbering away. We made a good first impression, we should head back inside.”

So we go into Starbucks and wait in line to get some coffee.

Atif, standing in front of me, says. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“Sure.” I respond. “But if that dude understands anything in our script, I’ll eat my hat.”

Atif turns around. He looks frozen, which is strange because he never gets rattled. I turn around, looking straight into the eyes of our beloved investor. His eyes are popped open, I could see the blood leaving his face.

“The frappacinos here are really good!” I squeak. I ran out the exit to my car with Atif following right behind me.

“Do you think he heard me?”
“He’s not deaf! He was standing five inches from you!”

Now I guess you could say, what I said wasn’t that bad, but it certainly didn’t help the cause. When I got home I wrote the investor an e-mail to apologize and thank him for his time, but I never heard back.

It was one of those life lessons. Don’t make judgments on people, and if you are, at least make sure that guy isn’t standing directly behind you.

It was like right out of a movie. Whenever Atif and I reflect back on it we bust up laughing because it’s so stupid. Looking back, we’re almost happy it happened because I’m not sure it would have been such a good idea to make a movie with someone who doesn’t share your sensibilities.

What’s my point to all this? We’ve had countless business meetings since this first incident. Some good, some bad, but we always try and hopefully we’re getting better at presenting ourselves. And even if we don’t get money, we don’t take it personal and have long term amicable relationships with our business associates, many of them are reading this right now.

And If I don’t have a good relationship with you, well I’m probably talking s***, but just far far away where you can’t hear me.

--tarun

Downtown - April 4th

2011-10-03T15:34:00.001-07:00

DOWNTOWN

Friday, 4th April

Here we go with another exciting journal entry, as always about three months late. Sometimes I wonder why I started this journal thing. It’s hard to find the time to sit down and write, and I realize that a lot of people have given up on me and have stopped coming back to this site. But when I do it, I remember how much I enjoy the process and recall the days when I wanted to do this for a living.

I still write to some extent, but I had a lot of desire as a kid. I wrote an endless supply of bad comedy sketches and even applied to an arts college with the intention of becoming a TV writer.

So much so that I did research on how to become a TV writer and found out I needed a ‘spec script.’

A spec script is the equivalent to having a resume in the real world. Essentially, a wannabe TV writer picks out a show currently running on the air and writes a sample episode. The spec script demonstrates if the writer has the capability to capture the characters voices, emulate structure, and most importantly convey a story.

So this is what I did. There was this show called ‘Just Shoot Me’ starring David Spade who worked at a fashion magazine office. The show was quite silly, but I liked the fact that there were a lot of jokes, which is what interested me at the time. I watched a bunch of episodes and sat down to write my first spec script. It wasn’t very good, but I was proud enough that I finished it and could put my name on something.

A year later I’m walking through NY, and I pass by the MTV building. Being from New Hampshire, I was very impressed. “Wow, maybe one day I’ll work there!”

As soon as I got home, I looked up who the development head was, pulled out my spec script and sent it along with a note introducing myself.

You can imagine my surprise when I got a phone call in my dorm room three months later. “Hello, is this Tarun?”
“Yes.”
“Hi, this is so and so at MTV and we read your spec script. Can you come in for a meeting?”

Take note, I’m 20 years old at the time. The whole experience of being called in with the head of MTV development was pretty exciting. It could have been the MTV janitor, and I would have been happy mopping floors.

I go to MTV and I’m sitting in an office with this lady who was well into her 40’s but her bandana, Abercrombie jeans and Converse sneakers made me think she was going through a mid-life crises. (When I left I noticed everybody wore similar clothes. Maybe MTV has a dress code to look like your 16?) She’s like. “Tarun, I like your spec script. How would you like to be a writer on our new TV show ‘Downtown?’

“Ok!”

She then goes on to tell me how ‘Downtown’ is MTV’s newest soon to be hit animation show. There was this other popular show called ‘Beavis and Butthead’ and so like any TV network, they made a bad spinoff with almost the same characters but with a new title! Genius!

She complimented me on my spec script’s dialogue. Especially the parts when I used words like ‘cool’ and ‘awesome. ’ I guess she never heard of these words before. “You’re so in touch with your generation!’

“Yes I am.”

She then asked the question which probably changed my life for the better.

“So, what else do you have?”

“Else?”

“Yeah, you don’t just have one spec script, do you?”

I almost fell out of my chair. ‘How could I be so stupid to only write one spec script!?”

I stumbled around and blurted out something like “Oh, I think I have something, but I left it at home.” The sad truth was that as a TV writer, I had just given her my entire body of work.

Later that week, I sent her like ten comedy sketches or something but I knew my days as being MTV’s newest prodigy writer were numbered. I never heard back from her, although ironically, I did intern for the same department 2 years later and ran around the city getting Starbucks for the animators.

MTV gave me my first lesson in television writing. Always come prepared and if you’re 20 years old, write a spec script with lots of ‘cool’ words or if you don’t of any, just make them up. It doesn’t matter. Nobody knows anything. This is a definite and with this knowledge, you too may almost catch a break and work in the wonderful world of showbizness.

--tarun

Union College - Feb 24th

2011-10-03T15:33:00.002-07:00

Union College	Sunday, 24th February
I'm writing this from the Hilton Garden Hotel room in Albany. Thank you to Shakti and everyone who came out to tonight's show at Union College. I had a great time especially eating the free Indian food afterwards. It made the long flight and travel delays worthwhile. I hope you all keep in touch with me! Add me on facebook or e-mail! Wow, walking back to my car tonight, I don't think I've ever been that cold in my life. Thanks Varun for letting me borrow your jacket! all the best, Tarun

Goodbye Brewco - Feb 1st 2008

2011-10-03T15:33:00.000-07:00

Goodbye Brewco

Friday, 1st February

So this past month has been pretty momentous. As some of you may or not know, I perform stand-up comedy. (how could you not know, it’s the only thing I talk about on this website) So I landed in Los Angeles on a cold October month 3 and half years ago and found that my best friend was running one of the hottest comedy rooms in Hollywood upstairs at “The Westwood Brewing” company.

To make a long story short, my friend’s comedy career took off and while he was on ‘the road’ he left the room to me. Every Monday and Thursday I would shuttle over there after work and set-up the chairs, microphone lights and hustle an audience for a comedy show. Essentially, it’s a little attic above a bar down the street from UCLA. Sometimes the room has 75 college kids, sometimes there’s 4. Either way, I like performing so it really never made much of a difference to me.

Running a comedy room is great. I highly recommend it for any new comic in Los Angeles. Not only does it allow you to book comedians and meet a lot of neat people but you can book yourself and perform all you want! Hooray!

In addition, some of my best friends are the bouncers and bartenders who work there. It was also pretty cool that some of Hollywood’s hottest comics stopped in including Dane Cook, Dave Chappelle and Chris Rock.

Well this past month, after three years, I gave the room to another comic.

Some of the most interesting and weirdest stories that could only happen in Hollywood, happened to me in that room. I thought I would use this entry to highlight a few of them. And if you don’t like it TOUGH! This is tarunshetty.com so if you’re with me, read on…

David Arquette/Pee-Wee Herman

This was a pretty weird. One time David Arquette (Courtney Cox’s husband) had a film party release down the street Westwood. To celebrate, he decided to bring his entire film crew to the Westwood Brewing company and have a party upstairs one floor up above our room.

I guess David is a big fan of stand-up comedy because when he heard of our show, he ditched his own party, came downstairs and sat in the back to watch.

To make it more interesting, Paul Ruebens (Aka, Pee-Wee Herman) was at the party and was looking for David Arquette so he wandered into the room too and also stayed. By this time, the show had been going on pretty long, and the crowd began to thin out.

Around 12:30 in the morning I finally get on stage to perform. I look out into the bright lights and have to squint to see my audience: A UCLA couple making out on a couch. David Arquette and Pee-Wee Herman are sitting beside them, listening politely.

I’m like “Ok, so what do you guys do for a living?”

Rick Fox

This story might be kind of lame because I don’t even consider Rick Fox a celebrity in any right. I know he was on the Lakers and married to Vanessa Williams but I don’t know if that means anything.

So Rick Fox is watching the show and the room is packed, standing room only. Of course, this dude is like 6’6 so he really sticks out and one of the comics calls him out. I forget the chain of events but somehow, Rick Fox is called on stage to tell a joke. (I remember watching this and feeling sick because rule #1 in comedy is never give up the mike. I don’t care who it is.) Well, Rick told a joke, followed by another and another and another. All in all, he ended up performing for 25 minutes! To make matters worse, he had a great set and I had to follow him! I remember complaining to a friend afterward “If I see Kobe Bryant performing stand-up comedy here next week, so help me God…”

Being Discovered

I always dreamed of someone discovering me while doing stand-up and this would launch my acting career. Well it hasn’t happened yet but one time they set up karaoke in the room next door.

Some comic was on stage so just for fun, while waiting, I went down the hall and signed up for karaoke. I think I sang Billy Joel or something. I get off stage and there’s a lady with a big smile handing me a business card. “I’m an MTV casting director how would you like to host our new karaoke show?! “

“Uh, I’ll have to think about it.”

Her smile disappeared. “No, you don’t understand. IT’S ON MTV and you get to sing on karaoke too!”

‘I understand fine, but I don’t want to sing karaoke on your channel or anywhere else on TV. See you later.”

I thought that was the last of it. Turns out, this girl came to every comedy show for like two weeks after that asking me to host her stupid karaoke show. I would have considered it had I not had to start off each episode singing a song -- in a shower bathroom!

I never saw her again nor did I ever see a show like this on MTV. I guess they couldn’t find a host who could sing as well as me.

NY Hustle - Nov 23rd - 2007

2011-09-26T15:46:00.001-07:00

NY Hustle

Friday, 23rd November

I stepped out of the 42nd street subway station into a cold February day. People walked hand in hand. I trudged through Times Square with my head down. I didn’t want anybody to see me. Not for the next hour anyway.

It had been over a year since we started the comedy room in the back of Joe Franklin’s Restaurant. Me and my ‘comedy friends.’ It was a simple concept. We ran a comedy room (essentially a microphone stand in front of a bunch of chairs) in the back of a restaurant located a block from Times Square. No more scraping for 1 am spots around town. We could book ourselves as many times as we wanted and practice our craft -- for a price.

“Here you go, Shetty.” Jake stuffed a handful of colored flyers into my mitten.

“Where is everybody?” I asked.
“Just us barking tonight and Melissa working the door. Everybody else is out of town.”

I hated barking. ‘Barking’ is going out into the streets and recruiting strangers for our comedy show. On most nights, we had 6 comics to help pack the room. 5 on the street, 1 to stay at the door and collect money. Because we were understaffed, tonight would be harder.

We barked once a night, twice on Friday/Saturday (weekend late shows). We were there throughout the year: summer, winter, fall, winter, spring, winter. It was such a part of my life that when I think of NY, that’s all I remember. The corner of 45th and Broadway. The lingering stench of the garbage cans. The neon ‘Lindy’s” sign glowing beside me. The freezing wind. In four years, I had blended into the scenery, no different than a street lamp.

Jake and I headed out the front door. Like two soldiers stepping onto the Vietnam battlefield, we went our separate ways. “See you in an hour.”

“Comedy show!” I yelled from my corner. A lady stopped.
“Who’s on it?”
“Me!” She rolled her eyes and continued walking.

The cold started eating away at my fingers. A half hour went by. 30 minutes of ‘No thanks’ ‘We have reservations,’ and ‘Sure, I’ll come back later.” I gave a flyer to a passing man. A minute later, the paper came back to me, tumbling with the wind along the sidewalk.

“Forget this. I’m done.”

I started walking back to the subway. I turned the street corner, stopping dead in my tracks. What I saw has stayed with me everyday since. It was a 25 year old man. His weathered face, tired eyes, no smile. In his left hand was a stack of colored flyers.

I stepped closer to the glass doors. What the hell has happened to me?

My phone started ringing.
“Hello?”
Jake’s voice yelled at the other end.
“I just got two people in!” I need some help here!”

I turned around and went back with a new sense of determination.

“Comedy show!”
An old man side-stepped past me. I quickly ran passed him and asked again.
“It’s really good! Think it over!”
He grumbled and took my flyer.

That’s how it was. People still didn’t want my flyers, but it wasn’t going to stop me from trying.

“HERE! TAKE THIS FLYER!”
“I SAID NO!”
“WELL THEN, BURN THIS FOR HEAT!”

300 flyers in my hand thinned out. 200… 100… 50… and finally nothing.

I met Jake at the entrance. “Good job, Shetty.”

We peered into the comedy room. I couldn’t believe it. Every chair was full. It was always interesting for me to see a stranger on the street and then to see him inside with his coat off.

“You want to go first or second?” Jake asked.
“It doesn’t matter.” I replied. It really didn’t. Looking back, the shows in itself meant nothing, but what I did to perform meant everything.

~Tarun

Russell Peters - Sept 18th - 2007

2011-09-26T15:45:00.001-07:00

Russell Peters

Tuesday, 18th September

So I was checking my inbox the other day and I got this e-mail.

“Tarun, do you hang out with Russell Peters? Are you guys doing a show together soon?”

Well, there is no show, but I’ve gotten a few e-mails like this so I thought the following story was relevant:

When I was doing comedy in NY, I randomly came across this comic named Russell Peters. I knew he was some guy in Canada, but that’s about it. So I was pretty surprised a few years later when his video was being forwarded to me on the internet. My mom called me up ‘have you seen this guy Russell Peters?’ Now, I’m pretty set in my own ways. I learned early on that show business is a race against yourself. If you think otherwise then you’re an idiot and you should quit now.

Still, I was annoyed that people kept mentioning this guy to me because we’re both Indian. “Russell Peters, Russell Peters” Even my boss at work asked ‘Tarun, you do stand-up comedy, can you get me an interview with Russell Peters?” ENOUGH!

I also used to take boxing classes with my friend Adam. There was a big fight on HBO and Adam calls me up. ‘Hey man, I met a comic at the Laugh Factory and he invited me to watch the fight at this house. I mentioned you and he said to bring anybody I want, wanna go?"

"Yeah, what's his name?"

"Russell Peters.”

SOOOOO…. a few days later I’m in Hollywood at the edge of Russell’s driveway. I was just standing there looking at his house thinking, ‘this is not a good idea.’ I say this because although my two very best friends are stand-up comics, I find a lot of comedians irritating, especially those that are always ‘on’ which sometimes seems like everybody. I've also been doing comedy for 10 years and my closest friends have been in the trenches with me. I didn't want to meet anybody new.

I turned around to go home when the 12 pack of Coronas slipped through the grocery bag I was carrying and crashed to the cement.

"NICE JOB, MAN!”

I turn around and there was Russell pulling up in his car with a big smile on his face. I rolled my eyes and started picking up the glass.

Without going into too much detail, Russell gave me a tour of his house, showed me his DJ equipment and even made me a hamburger. I learned that the guy has been doing comedy some 17 + years. He has paid so many showbiz dues that somebody owes him money. He didn’t even know me but went more than out of his way to accommodate a total stranger.

An hour later we were on his living room couch and he’s like ‘mind if I call a few friends?” Twenty minutes later I’m watching the fight and am sitting between Adam Corolla and David Allan Grier. (I know i don't have to mention this, but to me, it's the coolest part of the story. Adam told me that he used to be a carpenter and a boxing trainer!)

It just goes to show, you can’t base anybody off what they seem like on TV or any pre-judged notions. I’ve only seen Russell a few times after that, and he's always extremely nice. (except for the time I tried to take him down upstairs at the Laugh Factory and he put me in a jiu-jitsu hold) other than that – he’s cool.

If you haven’t heard of him, I recommend you check out his webpage at russellpeters.com or buy his comedy DVD ‘Outsourced’ which is probably available on his webpage. And if you still don't like him, go over to his house. He makes a great hamburger.

Thanks Russell!

--tarun

Stupid Gigs - Aug 22nd - 2007

2011-09-26T15:44:00.003-07:00

Stupid Gigs

Wednesday, 22nd August

This journal entry is about a stupid gig I did about 6 years ago. I’m just telling you right now so you know. There’s no moral or message or any inspiration of hope. It’s just another gig, one of many, that I probably shouldn’t have done. If you’re still with me then you’re welcome to read on…

So one day my friend Adam Hunter calls me up. I’ve known him for a long time, and at the time we were still passing out flyers together on the NY streets for stage time.

‘Tarun, wanna open for me?’
‘Where?’
‘Just show up at Chelsea Piers tomorrow at 11pm.’
‘Done’

I liked opening for my friends. It was easy money and I only had to do about 20 minutes of material. (Which was all I really had at the time) Kind of like just warming up the audience and getting out of there. Perfect for an up and coming comedian.

I show up the next night and Adam is standing by the docks.

“Where’s the show?”
“There!”

He points to a half-sized cruise ship floating next to us. It sat peacefully, floating in the water, a stark contrast to the absolute doom that awaited us.

“Excuse me?”
Adam had big smile ‘It’s a high school prom show!”

Oh God, did I hate these shows. They used to have them at New York Comedy Club at 2 am in the morning. The club would basically cart in about 80 high school kids who just finished their prom for a magical nightcap of stand-up comedy. What a dream!

I didn’t care. It was 50 bucks. Being a comic is like being a prostitute with a microphone.

“Let’s go!”

We board the boat with the kids. At the time, both of us looked young enough to be in high school. However, like most of the high school prom shows I’ve performed for, this was an inner city school. Kids are speaking Spanish, wearing doo-rags with tuxedos, America’s future!

We push off and the ship chugs around the harbor. Adam and I hang out outside by the lounge chairs. The ship sucked. It was dingy, the paint was peeling and it smelled of rotten fish.

‘Having fun?’ Adam asks.
‘The best.’

About forty-minutes into the voyage the DJ, a big fat guy who’s sweated through his shirt, approaches.

‘Which one of you is first?

“Me. Tarun Shetty.”

He shoves a wireless microphone into my hand and we follow him inside to a small dance hall. The first thing I noticed was how small the room was. All the kids were compacted into this tiny room, making it unbelievably hot. Rap music blared from two giant amps while a hanging strobe light shined red blue and green colors onto the wooden floor. Still, the kids were having fun. A night away from their parents and the pressures of school -- a taste of freedom.

Suddenly, the music stops.

The DJ’s Voice sounds from the speakers. “Everybody get off the floor!”

A tiny spotlight from the DJ booth illuminates me.

The kids look confused. The DJ gave me no intro whatsoever. For all they know, I’m the captain of the ship.

I momentarily freeze like a deer in the headlights before launching into my act.

“So I’m from New Hampshire, Anybody here from New Hampshire?”

Silence. I do another 3 minutes before people start voicing their displeasure.

“PUT ON THE MUSIC!” “BOOOOOO!”

People are shouting, yelling profanities. Obviously, this wasn’t comedy. I was just some guy interrupting a prom. I do 5 more minutes and introduce Adam. I don’t really remember how Adam did. Maybe I blocked it out of my memory or I left the room in search of a lifeboat. Either way, this had to be one of my top 5 worst gigs.

Adam and I made it back to the shore that night. I think we hid somewhere on the boat, in complete denial, bragging to each other that we were both incredibly funny and the crowd loved us.

Although a monetary victory, I would later use the money several years later to pay a therapist and help cure the irreparable damage showbusiness has had on my mental psyche.

It was just another gig. That’s all. This one just happened to be really, really stupid.

Tarun

KO Kid - June 16th - 2007

2011-09-26T15:44:00.001-07:00

KO KID

Saturday, 16th June

I have a lot of rage. I know I don’t seem like it, but I do. I keep it bottled away, which I’ve learned isn’t a good thing. So last year, I was driving somewhere in Hollywood and passed by a faded sign that read ‘Wildcard Boxing Gym.’ You couldn’t even see the gym from the road, you had to turn into the lot and drive in.

I’ll always remember the first time I saw it. It didn’t even look like a gym. It was on the second floor of a decrepit two story building above a Chinese Laundromat. The paint was peeling, the window blinds closed. From inside I could hear the sounds of clenched fists hitting a speed bag.

I walked in and everyone seemed to just stop what they were doing and stare. All the fighters were ragged and had this menacing look. I reached into my pocket and made sure my wallet was secure.

I had discovered a secret boxing lair. In the land of beauty, fame and dreams was a place of blood, sweat and reality. The walls were lined with mirrors and cutout pictures of well-chiseled boxers. An old boxing ring was in the center of the room while large heavy bags hung from the ceilings. This was the real deal.

I started working out that day and have continued to make a trip to Wildcard twice a week. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to learn and respect the art of boxing and work off a lot of stress.

I’m not a bad, but certainly far from great or being considered a ‘prospect.’ I’ve been in the ring enough times with my trainer, Jason, to learn that I always drop my hands, and I get exhausted after a few rounds.

Jason is a former pro fighter. He is smaller than me, but won the New York Golden Gloves boxing award. He is a cool guy who never made the Olympic team, but one day hopes to be an actor like everyone else in this town.

I get along with almost everyone who works out there. The key word is ‘almost.’

The first time I saw ‘Baby Drago’ was a chance encounter. I was headed to my car and he was shadow boxing outside on the street. He was a white kid with a crew cut who always wore a gold warm-up jacket. He looks like a smaller version of the bad guy from Rocky 4 so I nicknamed him ‘Baby Drago.’ He is also very skilled with his hands and seemed to have been boxing a lot longer than me.

Sometimes when I worked out, I’d catch him watching. I thought he was measuring me up. We had the same proportions. Height, weight, arm reach. Which means, if we were real fighters, we’d be in the ring together.

One day I was wrapping hands (you wrap your hands with tape before you put on boxing gloves) and I heard a voice directly above me. “Let’s fight, three rounds.” I looked up, sure enough, there he was looking down.

“Lets fight!” He repeated. He had a baritone voice, and I was a bit taken back that he really did sound like a movie bad guy without the foreign accent.

“No thanks. I don’t spar.” Which was the truth. The only time I go into the ring was with a trainer who is there to teach me.

“Come on, just for fun!”

Wow-wee! Me getting punched in the face sounded like a great time!! “NO THANKS!”

A few weeks later, I was hitting the heavy bag and ‘Baby Drago’ comes up to me again. “Come on, lets go one round!” I looked at him incredulously and then continued with my workout without saying anything. “p****.” He turned and walked away.

One afternoon, I had just walked in the front entrance and sure enough, there was my new-found boxing friend using a jump rope. He saw me and quickly climbed into the ring.

“Hey! Taroon!” I was a bit surprised that he even knew my name because I rarely talk to him. “Hey! Lets go!” Now he was dancing around the ring, bouncing off the ropes and had this big stupid smile on his face.

At the time, I was at the gym with my friend Adam. I was in a really bad mood and was there because I really needed to hit something. “s**** this.” I said. “I don’t care what happens. “

It wasn’t till I got halfway to the ring that I realized that this was a big mistake. As playful as he looked, I knew that once I stepped inside he would try to knock me out. Normally you wear padded headgear, (which neither of us were wearing) so this was just a street fight with gloves in a boxing ring.

I could hear my heart beat though my shirt. Everybody was watching so I couldn’t back out. Like a captured sailor walking the plank, I climbed the stairs to the ring and was about to face doomsday.

“Hey!” I turned around and there was Jason, putting on his gloves. “I’ll go a few rounds! I need a workout!”

I let out a sigh of relief and went back to the floor. Baby Drago’s eyes widened as Jason climbed through the ropes. I knew what he was thinking. Professional fighters are on another level. They work their entire lives to learn how to take a shot and most importantly, hit back.

They fought. It lasted about 30 seconds. I could tell Jason wasn’t even trying and was holding his punches. Still, those Golden Glove hands moved lightning fast, throwing swift punch combinations. Baby Drago backed into the corner and waved off the onslaught.

Jason climbed back outside and hit me in the shoulder. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Next time you can fight.” He smiled and resumed working the speed bag in the corner.

“Yeah, next time.”

I happily resumed my workout in peace. I learned an important lesson that day. It’s good to have friends, and even better if those friends can kick a**.

Tarun

Interview with Mangalorean - May 3rd - 2007

2011-09-26T15:43:00.001-07:00

Interview with Mangalorean.com

Thursday, 3rd May

I did an interview with Mangalorean.com. Check it out!

By: Team Mangalorean, USA

Washington DC, March 26: Some people believe there are only two types of comediennes in this world. The one's who make you laugh by their actions and the one's who make you laugh by talking. So, which one are you? Are you the kind of person whose lips don't even twitch when you see two guys slamming pies in each others faces? Or are you the one who sits a wee bit forward in his seat and really listens when a witty person takes to the mike? If you are, well then, our own Mangalorean, Tarun Shetty is the man for you.

Simply put, Tarun is a stand up comedienne who takes to his audience like a duck takes to water and what's more he doesn't just quack to make you laugh. Using wit and humor to entertain the world is Tarun's profession and he enjoys doing it too. Puts his heart and soul into it to be more precise.

A product of NYU's School of Arts, Tarun has worked his way up the New York Comedy Club Circuit. He has worked for the Boston Comedy Club for two years and made his first television appearance on the Nickelodeon Show 'Laugh Out Loud' also in New York. In 2001, at the Harvard University Demon Comedy Fest, Tarun premiered a Short Film at the New York International Film Festival.

In 2004, Tarun headed west and signed on as a correspondent for the Bollywood program, 'Showbiz India Extreme.' At present he is producer and host of the segment 'Generation Desi,' and travels across California in the course of his work. In addition, he continues to audition for film and television and tours the country to visit fans whenever he can.

Tarun thinks it's no piece of cake to do stand up comedy. It's tough to make people laugh and those who think its easy need to try it out sometime. We think you just gotta have what it takes to be a stand up comedienne and Tarun certainly has it. Making people laugh is a talent. And in today's world it could even be a blessing. With Tarun however, laughter is simply the best medicine and he prescribes huge doses of it to his audiences.

Tarun was born on 15th of August. Another Midnight's child? Must mean something surely. We asked Tarun and he had something profound to say about that. Tarun was also not averse to sharing some special thoughts with Team Mangalorean.

When did the interest in Comedy start?

I fell down a flight of stairs when I was 8 and instead of helping, everybody laughed at me. I had a self-revelation, 'Next time this happens, I'm getting paid.'

No, there wasn't an exact incident. I do remember being obsessed with American comedy stars in grade school. Then in study hall, instead of schoolwork, I'd be writing comedy sketches. I later sent all those ideas to real TV shows and wondered why nobody wanted to hire a 12 year old.

Ever done a standup comedy act on Mangaloreans?

Not that I recall.

The date of your birth coincides with Indian Independence Day. Being born and brought up in the US how 'Indian' are you?

I was born and brought up in the United States but we made long three-month trips to India once every two years. I'm very Americanized, but my parents who are Mangaloreans, have exposed me to Indian culture here in America and did a good job instilling the proper values in me.

If you had to choose between being a writer and a comedienne what would you choose?

I'd be a comic, but being a writer is essential to being a good comedian. If I wasn't able to write my own material for my stand-up, TV, movies, I would be useless to society. I never try to label myself anything specific. I'm a comic who also functions as an actor, producer, writer, stand-up. They all go together. At times, I have a very specific vision of what I want to make, and I need to do all these things to make it happen. If I can be truthful to myself, I'll be happy.

Do you think there is a dearth of humor in this world?

There is plenty of humor in this world. Some people and places have more of it than others, you just have to be aware when it happens around you.

What's your take on Bollywood? Any interest in joining the film industry sometime in the future?

I like Bollywood. I think it's great that Indians have a niche in the entertainment industry and I'm happy that it's starting to attract attention and interest from Hollywood.

As for me joining Bollywood, probably not. I like to dance, and I think Govinda is a genius but my ultimate goal is to be successful in the United States.

There have been a recent spate of stand up comedy shows and competitions on Indian Television. Is that a good thing?

I'm not really for stand-up competitions, but I think it's very cool that Indians are taking a chance on stage and audiences are tuning in. I actually saw the stand-up show last time I was in Bangalore. Those judges look tough, but I'm all for creative expression.

How often do you travel to India?

I went last summer. Not sure when I'll go again.

What's the ONE big difference between being young in the USA and being young in India?

Although I was young in India, I never grew up there in terms of going to school, having friends or facing problems and challenges that Indian kids have to deal with.

As for being young in America, sure, there were moments, like on the basketball court, birthday parties, classroom, whatever. I'd remember that I was the only Indian kid and everybody else was white. But everybody where I lived was so friendly and accepting, I really forgot about it and had a pretty normal childhood.

Tell us more about Showbiz India and your work with them.

'Showbiz India' is a South Asian show airing here in the United States. It focuses primarily on Indian entertainment which includes, events, music videos and Bollywood celebrities.

I was hired by Showbiz India about two years ago to produce a segment called 'Generation Desi' for a new show called 'Showbiz India Extreme.' Essentially, the segment was just me, a host and the director, Atif Mirza, covering college Desi parties in California and interviewing very drunk Indians who probably shouldn't have been on camera.

I'm not sure how it happened, but somebody got sick and I ended up hosting a lot of the segments. Somewhere along the way, I think both myself and the director, Atif Mirza, realized that we had no creative restrictions so we started shooting whatever we wanted. Around the same time, we started creating original content for the internet under our own banner, RaisingDesi Productions. We were getting lots of hits, and positive responses from around the world on my website tarunshetty.com and raisingdesi.com. All this pretty much led to where we are now, making our first movie.

We still work on the television show. "Showbiz India Extreme' just got picked up by Zee TV in March so it will be broadcast pretty much everywhere. I'm scheduled for some correspondent work but I'm not sure how much I'll be on because I'm so wrapped up with other projects.

'Showbiz India' gave me the opportunity to meet a lot of great creative minds in Hollywood, develop my comedy and reach a lot of people who otherwise would have probably never heard of me.

Team Mangalorean thanks Tarun for his time in answering our questions and wishes him the very best in his future endeavours!

Showbiz is for the Dogs - March 18th - 2007

2011-09-26T15:41:00.001-07:00

Showbiz is for the Dogs

Sunday, 18th March

When I was trying to get into showbizness I was pretty much just a lowly college student. My family didn’t know anybody in the industry, and I wasn’t connected in any way. I was also debating whether I wanted to be a TV writer. You can imagine my excitement when I found out that I was selected to be the writers’ intern on the television sitcom ‘Spin City.’

At the time, Spin City was a hit television show on ABC and was, in fact, the only sitcom to tape in New York. I was very lucky.

It starred Michael J. Fox, from one of my favorite movies “Back to The Future,” Heather Locklear and a bunch of other really funny actors.

I had a few college internships so I knew what to expect.

I did everything from grocery shopping for the writers, making copies of scripts and taking lunch orders. In return, the writers were super cool to me. They let me sit in on meetings and would include me in foosball games and whatever else was going on in the office.

There was no way I was going to mess this up. That is until one day, I was on set and I met one of the actors, Richard Kind. He played the goofball guy on the show and didn’t seem a lot different in real life. He’s been in a bunch of stuff, and I guess you can Google him if need be.

Anyway, I was on set one day and he had his dog with him -- Gratzi. It was a small dog, kind of like a terrier or something. I guess the dog was in-between the puppy and adult phase. Even though it was on a leash, it was pretty hyper and ran little circles around Richard.

“Hey!” Richard called out to me.
“You work with the writers right?” he asked.

“Yes”

“You like dogs?”

In truth, I am very indifferent to dogs. I like smart dogs that are intelligent, but I can’t stand dogs that run around mindlessly.

“Uh, sure.”

“Here!” he put Gratzi’s leash into my hands. “How bout you take Gratzi out for a stroll.”

“Ummmm.” I think Gratzi could feel the change of guard because as soon as the leash was in my hands, he took off with full force almost ripping my arm off.

“Bye!” Richard waved.

So off we went. Gratzi and I, by ourselves in New York. Now ‘Spin City’ taped in Chelsea Piers, which was an open area by the water. There were some docks so I thought that it would be a fine place to walk the dog.

I started running up and down the pier with him. Richard also gave me a tennis ball. We had this game where I throw the ball, it would bounce off Gratzi’ head and then he would chase it down. Pretty stupid game if you ask me.

After about a half hour of this, Gratzi laid down under a bench and closed his eyes. Finally! I looked at my hand which was now turning blue. I had wrapped the leash so tight that it was cutting off all blood circulation to my arm. I thought this was a good opportunity to untangle myself.

I had just slipped the leash off my hand for a split second when Gratzi caught sight of another dog in the distance and took off. I could feel the leash escape from my hands and watched helplessly as Gratzi dragged it across the pavement.

“Gratzi!” Gone. I spent the next hour walking up and down Chelsea Piers yelling out his name. “Gratzi! Gratzi! Gratzi!” Some Italian people by a bench looked at me awkwardly. ‘Gratzi’ means ‘thank-you’ in Italian. I guess I would find it strange if I saw a kid yelling to himself, “thank-you!” “thank-you!” “thank-you!”

I did this for another hour. It was getting dark, and I had three missed calls on my cell phone from my supervisor who was probably wondering where the hell I was. I thought I was going to cry. Actually, I wasn’t but I was certainly trying. I took an acting class and thought if I could get myself to cry, then maybe Richard would feel bad and not strangle me.

I headed back to Pier 12 building (it kind of resembled a large airport hangar) where ‘Spin City’ taped. As I walked to the set I could hear a faint bark from inside. I opened the door and there was Gratzi playing with one of the production assistants.

I ran to them, waving my arms enthusiastically. “Where’d you find him?”

“Outside. Hanging out. Are you supposed to be watching him?”

Take note, there were 24 piers, which means 24 warehouses. For Gratzi to go back to the one where ‘Spin City’ taped was just incredible. I guess Gratzi wasn’t as dumb as he looked.

She put the leash into my hand and I walked to Richard’s dressing room. He opened the door and gave Gratzi a big hug.

“That was certainly a long walk!”

“Wait don’t go anywhere. I want to give you something!”

I thought he was going to give me 20 bucks for my troubles but instead he gave me a script to bring back upstairs to the writers.

“Thanks.”

That was the first of many memorable experiences at ‘Spin City.’ I would go on to walk Richard Kind’s dog a bunch of other times throughout the year. To be honest, I don’t think he even knew my name aside from ‘the kid that walks my dog’ but he always managed to find me and seemed somewhat grateful.

One day soon, when I fulfill all my dreams, I’m going to hire Richard Kind. And you can certainly bet that he’ll be walking my dog. Woof-woof.

~tarun

6 Dollars - Feb 3rd - 2007

2011-09-26T15:40:00.001-07:00

6 Dollars

Saturday, 3rd February

The road. It’s where comedians get good. I forget who, but some famous comic said there’s no way around it. Performing from club to club. Living out of a suitcase. Endless one night stands with the club waitress and drunk audience members. Then again, I don’t really know much about it. I’m just repeating what I heard from my friends.

I’ve always wanted to be on TV which meant staying in town for auditions. I’ve done a lot of colleges and casinos here and there but I usually catch a flight home the next day. Except once…

HAZY flashback sequence.

It was around mid February. I was passing out flyers for stage time and freezing my a** off in NY. Three months earlier, I randomly submitted a tape to a booker and was getting the call now.

“Hi, this is Jerry. We received your tape. Can you host at our Wisecrackers club this weekend in Scranton, Pennslyvania? ”

Host? By now I had been doing comedy for about four years or something in New York. I had never heard of Scranton, Pennsylvania, plus I didn’t have a car. Of course, I just applied my non-sensical logic which has guided me through all important life decisions.

“OK!”

Three days later I was squeezed next to someone on a Greyhound bus to Scranton, Pennsylvania. It was about four hours away, and I was traveling with a busload of people.

With each stop, the bus crowd slowly thinned out until I was sitting by myself.

“Scranton, Pennsylvania.” the bus driver grumbled. I think he was annoyed that he had to drive all this way just for me.

I took a cab to my motel, (I wasn’t old enough to rent a car, not that it mattered because I don’t think there was anything to rent.) “Are you lost?” The cab driver asked.

“No, I’m a comic. I’m going to Wisecrackers comedy club!” I proudly stated.

“That’s my favorite place!”

“Obviously.” I thought. I had never been there but it was probably one of America’s top comedy clubs if they booked me, Tarun Shetty, 23 year old comedy sensation.

We pulled into a motel with one car in the parking lot. I didn’t care. I was getting 75 big ones to do comedy. I marched into the lobby, with my chest out, head high, feeling great.

“Who are you?” the desk clerk asked.

“I’m Tarun Shetty – the comedian.”

She looked at a list on the wall.

“Oh, your room is right there.” She pointed to a door like five feet down the hall.

“Can I get some room service?” I asked.

“We don’t have a kitchen but we have a microwave and a vending machine.” She pointed to a big brown thing plugged into the wall. The on and off humming made it seem like it was dying a slow death in the corner.

“How about the comedy club. Can I get a ride tonight?”

She started laughing. “This is the comedy club!” She pointed to a set of double doors literally right next to my hotel door. Sure enough, inside was the motel showroom and I saw a xeroxed black and white picture of me hanging crooked on the wall.

I went back to my room. There's a lot of things to do before showtime, especially in Scranton. Like sleep, write jokes, watch TV, sleep, read, call home, sleep, take a shower, more sleep.

It seemed like I had just closed my eyes for the 15th time when I heard a loud knocking on my door. “10 minutes till showtime!”

I threw on my crumpled ‘comedy shirt’ from my bag, stuffed some Skittles into my mouth and trudged five feet into the next room. There were about 30 people seated and two older men standing in near the bar.

A lady approached me, waving her hands frantically. ‘Are you Tyroon? Ok, listen up. We have a packed show! (I guess 30 people was the whole town) I need you to do a tight 10 minutes up front and 4 and a half between each act. The red light is on the back wall. When you see it, wrap up, get off stage and don’t forget to mention the cheese stick specials.” I had no idea what she just said.

“Sounds good!” I replied.

I went to the bar, thinking shots of rum would clear my new headache. I ran into the other two comics trying to flirt with the bartender.

One guy was really fat, the other had on all black and wore a black trenchcoat. I assumed his onstage comedy persona was some sort of serial killer or something.

“Hey, guys. I’m the host. Can I get your credits?”

They looked at me as if I embodied everything that was wrong with stand-up comedy.

“Say whatever.” The fat man muttered and walked off.

Trenchcoat guy starting listing off credits. “MTV, A&E, Conan O’Brien…”

“You were on Conan O’Brien?” I interrupted. I was a big fan of the show. I even had an autographed Conan O’Brien picture hanging in my room in college.

“Um, yeah.” he replied.

“When?”

“Er, last year.”

“Who were the other guests?” It was an innocent question hoping he would later tell me all about it and bond an old veteran comic with an up and coming star.

It never occurred to me that maybe he was LYING about his credits and I was pretty much calling him on it in front of a girl he was trying to nail.

“Just say it, all right!” He slammed his drink down and stormed away.

That night was an awkward night of comedy and probably shaped the next few years of my life. The audience was nice, but I don’t think they had ever seen a South Asian guy, especially one doing comedy. I remember opening up with, “Hey guys, I’m not a comic, I work at the gas station across the street and they asked me to do some time.” I heard a guy in the front row go, “I’ve never seen him at the gas station.”

I was also reprimanded later for going over my time and threatened that I would never work the Wisecracker comedy circuit again. “Promise?” I asked.

They ended up cancelling the second show because nobody showed up. When I finally got back to NY, after all expenses, I made six dollars! I was rich!!!

I’m pretty sure comedy on the road is a lot more fun that this. In fact, I know it is. But I did have a revelation that night. If I was going to be funny for a career, I had to find a medium that reached as many people as possible, and not a microphone in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Even in NY. Had to get out of there, take my shot. Take risks, no regrets.

6 dollars is great, but it'll take at least 10 for me to sellout my dreams.

Country Music Television - Nov 28th - 2006

2011-09-26T14:21:00.001-07:00

Country Music Television

Tuesday, 28th November

Every comic wants to be on television. Unlike regular day jobs, we don't have any job promotions or awards so sometimes people measure our self worth by how many television credits we have. Doing a set on the Tonight Show or Letterman is the ideal but most comics will pretty much do anything that comes his/her way. There is a perception that television makes you official. It's like being on television means you are finally accepted by the masses, but in reality, a television appearance comes down to a talent booker's opinion or simply who you know.

Some of my early TV credits include bad children's programming. I was on a Nickelodeon pilot as well as a short-lived CBS show called "Wild Wild Web" – a program that blended teaching kids how to use computers with stand-up comedy. (I think the description says it all) When I was living in NY a new type of programming trend was just starting to take off – television commentary

You know what I'm talking about. It's pretty much the only thing that plays on VH1 and the other B-cable channels nowadays. These shows basically play music videos or relive parts of the 80's while a bunch of no name comedians and actors make fun of whatever is on screen. I got to be one of those lucky comics, well sort of.

It all started one day in New York. I got a call from a new manager I was working with in Los Angeles. "Tarun you're going to be on TV!"

"Really? When? What channel?" I replied.

"Country Music Television! You're going to commentate on the videos."

Let me just emphasize that my manager was in Los Angeles and had never even seen me in person. Also, I didn't even have to audition for the show, which goes back to the old showbiz rule, half this business is not even based on talent or merit.

"Great!" The problem was that I didn't know anything about country music. In fact, I didn't even know there was such a thing called a Country Music Television Channel.

For those of you who are like the millions of other Americans who watch commentary shows, I'll give you the backstory of how these shows work. Usually a producer from the show will contact you a day or two before the taping and send you a bunch of topics and fun facts to write jokes for. In my case, the show was called "40 Greatest Done Me Wrong Songs" and they were counting down, you guessed it, country music songs!

The segment producer called me up.

"This is so and so. Do you like country music?"
"No, not really."

"Have you ever heard country music?"
"I think so."

"Perfect, I'll send you a DVD of some videos we'll be playing and some notes. Come up with some material, and be at the studio next Friday at 1pm."

A few days later I received the music DVD along with a large packet of useless country music trivia. Every night I would go over the information and write down any funny thoughts that came to my head. The whole thing was retarded. I did some research on CMT and found out that the channel is pretty popular in the South. I wondered what people would think when they saw me, a 23 year old comedian nobody's ever heard of, thrashing their favorite country song. It was a tough job but somebody had to do it.

Friday came, and I went to the studio at the Viacom building in Times Square. By "studio," it was basically just a small room with a camera set up against a blue screen. Some lady put makeup on my face while I placed a few notecards I made the night before on the floor next to me.

The next 25 minutes went by pretty fast. Somebody off camera asked me questions, and I went rapid fire through my jokes. I can pretty much go on automatic when it comes to comedy. Boom-boom, camera man laughs, boom-boom-boom. Thank you very much you've been a great audience! I thanked everyone in the room and made a quick exit.

A few weeks later, I tuned into the program with my family and we counted down the videos. It was my career defining moment. Out of about fifty jokes, I think I was used about three times, usually right after the comedian, Carrot Top.

It was a brief appearance but that day, like my peers, I finally had a TV credit which meant nothing in the grand scheme of life. A credit that reaffirms my belief that stand-up comedy is to the entertainment industry as candlepin bowling is to professional sports. A credit that serves as a lesson for everyone reading this. If you work hard, believe in yourself, and catch a little bit of luck, just maybe... you too can be a country music telelvision star.

--Tarun

ps. I went home this Thanksgiving and was going through some old stuff. I found a clip from the actual show! It really is ridiculous. If you want to see it, just click on the following link. Ciao

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=42HIlJgrtWI

Formal Apology - Oct 23rd - 2006

2011-09-26T14:20:00.001-07:00

Formal Apology to YJP Convention

Monday, 23rd October

Dear YJP Convention,

I’m taking this months journal entry to formally apologize for the Oct 14th performance at the Hyatt Regency. I know that I don’t have to apologize because I was in fact, extremely funny, but I also realize that about 48% of the audience wanted to kill me. I figure that I owe a couple apologies to a few people and would like to make amends.

Apology #1

First I want to apologize to the person who booked me. I heard you may not have been happy with the performance. A friend who I brought to the show conveyed to me that you looked ‘distraught’ when I called this the ‘worst singles convention I have ever seen.’

Here’s an optimistic way of looking at this. Singles conventions are pretty bad with lots of hopeless people. However, everyone at WJP looked very attractive and full of life. So by me calling it ‘the worst singles convention’ I was actually saying how great everything is and was paying a complement to your gala! Pretty cool! You are welcome! :)

Apology #2

Sorry to guy in the gray shirt sitting in the front row. I know I talked to you many times over the course of my show. Half way through my set I jumped off stage and ran around the room doing my act. I went to shake your hand, and instead of reciprocating you looked at me like you were going to stab me with your fork. Well, I want to let you know that you have won 1000 tickets to all my comedy shows. That’s right! You get to watch me 1000 more times! Congratulations!

Apology #3

I would like to apologize for telling a bunch of ‘non-truths’ during the course of the night. First, I was not paid ‘6 million dollars’ as stated in my act. The correct figure is 3 million dollars, which I have donated to setting up college scholarships for Native Americans. Also, you were not the ‘greatest audience I had ever performed to.’ Although I did enjoy my time with you, collectively, as an audience, I would probably rate you #986 out of about 5000 shows, which is still pretty good.

Anyways, I hope we settled our differences. I love Jain people and have the highest respect for your community. I look forward to performing at next years YJP Convention and hope to see you all there.

Your friend,

Tarun

Star Search - Sept 24th 2006

2011-09-26T14:19:00.001-07:00

Star Search — This Show Sucks

Sunday, 24th September

We are still raising money for a movie. If you want to know more and would like to help. Please go to raisingdesi.com. Check out this month’s entry below…

I lay huddled against a brick building on 52nd street. It was November and it had to be at least 20 degrees. I was wearing every piece of clothing I could find. Layers of t-shirts, thermal underwear, hat, gloves. I don’t mind cold weather, but New York wind is unmerciful. It always finds you and slashes through everything you are wearing.

I couldn’t feel my hands. Through gloved fingers I pressed play on my frozen CD player. I had Tom Petty’s ‘Running down a dream’ (my motivational CD) playing for about ten minutes before the batteries died. I looked at my watch, 3:30 am. It was going to be a long night.

How did I end up here?

Flashback – two weeks earlier.

When you start out as a New York performer you’re going to do a lot of crazy stuff. There’s a disease in NY where people think you have to suffer for your art and it’s contagious. I remember I was just finishing up performing at some bad comedy room when a friend ran up to me.

“Did you hear the good news?!”

“What?”

“They’re bringing back Star Search!”

“You mean that horrible show from the 80’s?”

“Yeah, with Arsenio Hall!” He was beaming . He looked at me like this was the greatest day of his life.

“And?”

He took out this crumpled e-mail from his back pocket. “See? ‘dancers, models, and COMEDIANS!’ They’re having an open call this Thursday. You’ve got to do it with me!”

I rolled my eyes. I knew what ‘open call’ meant. Every jackass performer and his mom would be standing in line. I did a couple open calls starting out because I didn’t no any better, and it usually involved hours of waiting, and then doing 30 seconds of stand-up for a guy who had just heard about a thousand acts before you. Usually open calls are created to help publicize and hype whatever event it was. While in line, there is always a guy with a camera who walks around recording footage they can use for their upcoming TV promo.

I put my foot down. “No way. I hate open calls and I hated the original Star Search. This show is going to tank.”

“PULEEEESE! It’ll be fun! We’ll do it together!”

I felt bad for my friend. He was pretty much a loser and quite frankly his comedy sucks. But I did like him as a friend, and I always look out for my friends. Always.

“Give me the details.”

The game plan was this. The building was at 52nd and 8th. Doors open at 9am. I figured, if we show up at 12 am the night before we have a shot at getting seen at a legitimate time.

I put on every piece of warm clothing I could find. I also tucked away a folded collared shirt and pants into my bag. Something I could change into before performing. If I prepare mentally, I can take a lot of punishment. I was ready.

I showed up at the location that my friend and I agreed on. It was a lot colder than normal. Like any November night, it was dreary and dark, and there were a bunch of homeless people sleeping on the sidewalk. Upon closer inspection, I realized they were not homeless but actually a New Jersey boy band who actually brought sleeping bags and were asleep in line!

I was 16th. Not great considering how early this was, but not bad either. My friend was nowhere to be seen. Awesome…

I spent the next 9 hours bonding with the “Jersey Town Boyz” and a middle aged Chinese lady who played the xylophone.

The Chinese lady spoke horrible English, and I wondered if she made it on, would the show put subtitles when she talked to Aresenio Hall?

“WHAT YOU DO?! WHAT YOU DO?!” she screamed. Well since she asked so politely…

“I’m a magician. A combination of optical illusions and laser lightshows.”

She turned her back, unimpressed.

I was on the ground, against the wall with my hat over my eyes. A part of me wanted to fall asleep, but I saw a movie somewhere that hypothermia makes you fall asleep and then kills you. I think it's every artist’s worst nightmare to have a tombstone reading “Here lies Tarun, died while auditioning for the new Star Search.” I tried to stay as alert as possible.

Looking back, I think it's many scenarios like these that make performers who they are, for better or worse. Having started out somewhat young, I realize that this business makes you go through a lot of stuff. It took me a long time to really understand. Most artists (I used to be one of them) have nothing else, aside from a crappy Starbucks job and their miserable studio in Brooklyn, 2 hours from the city. If their career sucks, then their self-worth is reduced to nothingness.

Sometimes I still see it. Though LA people are a lot better at hiding pain, it's common in NY. Miserable comics walking around comedy clubs like zombies. It’s so ironic that their job is to make others laugh yet they are unsatisfied with life. Then I see others. Comics that are genuinely smiling, just happy to be doing what they’re doing. What is it that makes some go down that dark path while others have such a great attitude?

Truthfully, I have no idea. This has nothing to do with a spiritual awakening or any of that nonsense. I just know that if I’m going to be NORMAL and not go completely insane in this career path, I’ve got to set my own gauge for happiness.

I checked my watch. 9:01 am. The doors were open and they were starting to take people. It was a brutal night and seeing the sunlight brought hope that in a few hours I’d soon be back home asleep in my own bed. I looked behind me. The line now stretched down the street and around the block. Also walking towards me was my ‘friend,’ embracing a Starbucks coffee.

“Sorry, man. Fell asleep. Can I get cuts?”

About ten people around me shot him piercing glares. If he had taken a step into that line, I’m sure the Chinese lady behind me would have beat him unconscious with her xylophone. And to be honest, if that happened, I probably wouldn’t have done anything.

“Maybe it’s best I go to the back of the line.”
“Probably” I replied.

I did get a callback that day, but I never made it onto Star Search. It’s ok. At the end of the day, I gave it my best, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Raising Desi - The Movie Aug 13th

2011-09-26T14:18:00.000-07:00

Raising Desi - The Movie

Sunday, 13th August

August entry! Thanks for coming back. So much has happened the past few months, and I appreciate that you are on this webpage even if you are mistaking me for Bollywood star, Sunil Shetty.

A lot of people e-mail, asking for more videos. Well, the reason it's been so long was because we wrote a movie. Yep, get ready. It’s going to be good.

(For brand new videos and movie information: please check outRaisingDesi.com)

The movie is entitled ‘Raising Desi.’ It’s a comedy South Asian American film, starring myself and soon to be casted actors.

It took a lot of effort to write but I'm 100% confident that this is the best thing we've ever written. So good that after today, I hereby have changed my name to M Night Shetty just to confuse the Hollywood community.

Most importantly, we want to make this movie right, on our own terms. I mention this because we started to raise money, and I need your help.

If you, or for that matter, know anyone who may be interested in film financing: your brother, son-in law, mailman, ex-lover, please have them contact me directly: raisingdesi@gmail.com

Film production is expensive (*movie fact: the kid in the Harry Potter movies is an animatronics robot and cost 47 billion dollars to build) Plus, we plan on paying everyone back before we take any profit.

This movie is dedicated to all the people across the country that have supported my career as well as everyone who hates my guts.

best,

Tarun

Real Journal Entries From Hell May 27th 2006

2011-09-26T14:16:00.001-07:00

Real Journal Entries From Hell

Saturday, 27th May

This month's journal entry is dedicated to Shawn Shetty. Get well soon :) --Tarun

So I have been performing almost 9 years this June! Thank-you very much.

As some of you may or may not know, I am a writer at heart. I love to write and it’s probably the one thing I can do somewhat ok. Also, I have a kept an online journal over the past 9 years and have documented about 85% of the shows. Surprise! I’m insane! That’s a lot of writing! I thought maybe one day I would randomly print out pages and send them to the NY Times like some kind of crazy manifesto. Seriously, I don’t know why I started keeping tabs. It just happened, and I never stopped.

It’s interesting to see how much I’ve changed as a person. For example, on May 12, 98’ I started an entry with “I hate showbiz” while just last month on April 23, 06 I started with “ I loatheshowbiz…” I’m like a totally different person.

I’ve posted some entries from interesting times in my life. See you next month.

June 23, 97 - Boston, MA

“…so the host finally brings me up with this lame intro “have you guys seen Letterman, well he watches it too!” He did the same thing last week. What a hack. If everybody is this unfunny than I should be on television by Tuesday. I did 3 minutes. My friends said I was hilarious but a lady in the front row stood up and said “NEXT!” so I am pretty sure they are lying to me. This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my life…”

June 30th, 00' - New York, NY

... I saw Dave Chappelle again tonight. He remembered that I opened for him back in Boston. He is a really nice guy! I've never seen anyone so natural on stage. I think he’s going to be super famous one day. He told me that his writing partner Neal Brennan also used to work the door so maybe there’s hope for me. He told me ‘just don’t care and things start to happen.’ Well, starting today, I don’t care.

September 14, 01 – New York, NY

Just got escorted out of Uptown Comedy Club. It’s an urban club in Queens, which means pretty much all black people. I don’t know why I agreed to this. I get up and everybody starts chanting. “Go home Osama” and “You Suck.” They wouldn’t even give me a chance. I was so angry. So I just said the first thing off the top of my head “You don’t think I was affected by this. On Sept 11th, I woke up late for work. I put on the TV and saw the plane go into the building. I was like “Man, they did it without me! What am I supposed to do with all these boxcutters?” This guy threw a glass full of ice and hit me from the back of the room. Another lady nailed me with an ashtray. Not only did I incite a riot but also I had to leave through the back door. The host also told me I should ‘come back next week.’ Great.

August 11th 05 - Hollywood, CA

Saturday night. Woo-hoo! Just performed at an Indian engagement party at the Makala Indian Restaurant. This is what my career has come to, whoring myself out to my ethnic class. I had to have at least done 45 minutes. It was a lot of fun. I built my act in New York in front of American tourists so I had a bit of trouble at times. I don’t even care! I don’t think half the audience has even seen a comedy show before so I could have gone on stage with sock puppets and said it was stand-up comedy…And I still got paid! HAHAHAHAHA!

May 23, 06 Hollywood CA

Weds again. Did stand-up comedy twice this week. Haven’t been motivated to write but I took time off cause I was prepping all week for an audition to play a gay terrorist on Showtime. Hmmm, that definitely does not read well… I question, is this is life? Why am I always chasing something? High school, college, present. I did, however, feel really proud of myself after I left the casting office. That’s never happened. I am the worst auditioner and usually want to jump out a window.

I think maybe that’s the key to happiness. To have objectives rather than specific goals. To be a role model, to break down stereotypes and barriers for other South Asians. Or maybe just have really, really low expectations. Either way, I can't miss.

Tarun Shetty - The Dark Side - April 28th

2011-09-26T14:15:00.000-07:00

Tarun Shetty - The Dark Side

Friday, 28th April

Ok, before you read any further I want to say, I don’t have an alcohol problem. I never have, never will. It’s a rare sight to see me wasted and the following took place over a span of like three months.

I do, however, admit that at one point in my career I used alcohol as a crutch on stage. It all began a long time ago in a galaxy far far away…

FADE IN:

When I was in New York, I used to play a club in Times Square. We’d have these huge tourist crowds in the summer time. They were by far the best audiences because they were from all over the country and were always ready to have a great time. Those shows were moments where I really enjoyed comedy cause there was no outside pressure of showbiz whatsoever.

One Saturday night in particular, the room was especially packed and somebody bought me a shot and a jack and coke before I performed. I never drank in college so I was buzzed pretty quick and went on to have the set of my life.

The next few weeks, I always had a few drinks before performing and always a drink in hand on stage. All the years learning about timing and concentration went out the window. Even when I made a mistake or stumbled over a word, I didn’t even care, and audiences loved it! I was finally the cool guy on stage, and I found a magical shortcut to being funny.

WARNING #1

A couple weeks later I was auditioning for the owner of the Comic Strip, Three minutes till showtime, and I’m at the bar rifling through my wallet for spare dollars. “Where’s the bartender! Can I get a drink?” I needed it right then and there. Worst of all, I requested a Baileys which is like the girliest drink you can get. It was pathetic.

A month later, I was on a plane to LA. I had just signed with a new manager. My dream was coming to life. The company had never seen me live, they signed me off a tape, which is pretty rare in Hollywood, and I was booked to do the biggest show of my life.

It was a showcase for every industry types in Hollywood at the Laugh Factory on Sunset Boulevard. The Tonight Show people were there, Fox, whatever… it was an impressive list and the club was totally sold out. I also had just spent the last 7 or so years doing stuff like working the door at a comedy club and passing out flyers on street corners for stage time. I’ve never been to jail but it was like being up for parole and starting a new life. I never came close to having any opportunity to showcase myself so this was a big deal for me.

Anthony Clark, the star of a CBS sitcom was on right before me. He was doing well, with like no effort. I sat unimpressed from the balcony, watching below, drinking my jack and coke. I’m not sure how many I had but it was a few. I was so out of it, I remember telling a complete stranger next to me ‘They’re just laughing because he’s famous.” She looked back like I was nuts. I didn’t care. I was bursting with confidence and everyone was about to witness the great comedy stylings of Tarun Shetty

I’ll try to recall this as best I can, though it's hard to remember. The host introduced me and I sauntered to the stage. My head was so big, if I smoked I probably would have taken a cigarette out and lit it. I took the mike out of the stand and almost hit myself in the head. Great, 30 seconds in and I'm re-creating some sort of slapstick Charlie Chaplin routine.

My first joke completely missed. Second one, miss. I wasn't even saying the jokes right. I’m usually pretty alert on stage, and am good at getting myself out of jams. But tonight I couldn't focus and had no chance at getting this crowd going.

I plowed through. Not a complete disaster, but it was far from the 6 minutes I envisioned.

I didn’t even stay for the rest of the show. I was so embarrassed I went back to my friend’s place and caught a flight the next day back to NY. (I came back though!)

I realized a lot of things that night. One, I am a total lightweight and have the alcohol tolerance of a 90lb girl. Second, when people come to see me, I want them to see me in the purest form, where I am alcohol free and on my A-game.

No specific experience will ever determine the rest of my life. I’ve had many more opportunities and will have more to come to prove myself.

I’m still the cool guy on stage. Only now when I wake up the next morning I don’t have a headache and can remember everything from the night before.

That’s gotta be worth something. I'll raise my glass to that.

tarun

Fan/Hatemail... Mostly Hate - March 29th - 2006

2011-09-26T14:13:00.001-07:00

FAN/HATEMAIL.... MOSTLY HATE

Wednesday, 29th March

Here's a bunch of e-mails people have written to me over the past three months. If you want to see your letter on my webpage with a reply from yours truly, please send all mail to tarun@blackcircle.net

Dear Tarun,

Saw you at Brewco tonight. Thanks for the laughs.

Mike

Dear Mike,

Thanks for the totally banal and unoriginal fan mail.

--El Shetty

Dear Tarun,

I saw you perform at the midnight show at the Comedy District last Friday night. I was a big fan of your show on Showbiz India extreme and for all the hype I heard about your stand-up. I was not impressed. You did not try, your hair was a mess, you slurred your words and seemed like you were drunk. As one of the few South Asians comedians, I think you represent us in the entertainment community, and it is a shame that a fine talent such as yourself gave the audience such a subpar performance. I hope you realize that I am a comedy fan in general and think you have lots of potential to be great. Plan on seeing you at the Improv on the 13th. Take care,

Ajay

Dear Ajay,

You’re right, you’re right, you’re right. My hair ‘was a mess’ on Friday. Let me explain. I got like 6 hours of sleep the night before, I looked in the mirror in the morning and was completely shocked when I saw my hair. (I’ve been trying to grow it out for the past year, and it’s been hard to manage) Immediately, I tried to comb it down, but it wouldn’t stay. I don’t know why. Maybe I slept on it wrong. Anyway, I have this baseball cap. It’s like camouflage, and I wear it sometimes because it makes me feel cool. I wore it for most of the day and it did a good job hiding my hair. But then at the end of the day when I took off my cap, my hair was even more messy! You can imagine the sense of panic and fear I experienced. I had a show in twenty minutes, and hate wearing baseball caps on stage because I’m always fidgeting with it. So, as you saw on Friday, I went up with messy hair. It was a decision I’ll probably regret for the rest of my life. I sincerely apologize to you and your family.

T Rock

Tarun,

You are sooo funny! Are you single? Check out my myspace profile at xxxxxxxxxxxx. Don’t worry, I am not a stalker.

--Sameera

Sameera,

I am single!!! And we’re both on myspace! I guess this is destiny!!!

Tarun aka Future Lover

Dear Tarun,

We tried to get you here at the University of Utah, but your booking manager, Peter, is a complete p**** and made the event completely unaffordable. We are an ISA (Indian Student Association) and don’t have any money in our budget. We’d love to get you down here. Can you cut us a deal?

--Ekta

Ekta,

This is a general response to all college kids. If I had a billion dollars I would tour the country and perform for free. There’s nothing more important to me than promoting the arts at ISA’s and encouraging young people to follow their dreams. Peter told me about your situation, and I decided that after travel fees, hotel, management fees, I simply couldn’t afford to do this show. Nothing personal. I love you.

T$

Dear Tarun Shetty,

YOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCKYOUSUCK

Anonymous

Dear Anonymous,

GREATTHANKSFORSHARING.PLEASEUSETHESPACEBARKEYFORFUTUREE-MAILSALSO I THINKYOURCAPSLOCKBUTTONISONTARUNSHETTY

Dear Tarun,

Hey man, we loved your show yesterday (Riverside). Is all that stuff true? How do I get into stand-up? Is it ok to use other people’s jokes? Please keep me updated when your CD comes out and add me to your mailing list.

See you,

Alex.

Alex,

Thank-you very much. Um, I’m not planning to record a CD anytime soon, but now that you mentioned it, maybe I will. You are officially added to my mailing list. 78% of my material is true. If you want to do stand-up, you should probably see a therapist and get your head examined. After that, if you still want to do stand-up, I suggest writing material, going to an open mike, signing up and performing. And yes, you should steal as many jokes as possible and pretend like it’s yours. Other comics will probably get mad and physically hurt you, but you should always strive to be totally unoriginal. This will keep you off lame TV shows and keep away annoying opportunities that will make you a real comic. Thank you very much for your support.

T-dog

Asthma Attack - Feb 27th - 2006

2011-09-26T14:12:00.001-07:00

Asthma Attack!

Monday, 27th February

It wasn’t a good month. I was getting over a relationship, I was frustrated with Hollywood, and I wasn’t eating. When I get stressed, I work out -- hard. I began running more, boxing classes, lifting weights. Anything I could do to keep my mind occupied. Everything seemed normal until I started getting these dizzy spells and felt a bit winded. No problem. I’m an asthmatic. These things happen. I’ll just relax a bit, and it’ll go away. After all, I am a self-operating machine. Nothing can hurt me.

Around 2:00 am on a Thursday, something was wrong. I was dizzy. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like my chest was being crushed by a grand piano. However, me going through one of my many mood swings, I thought ‘I’m just going to close my eyes and die in my sleep. Finally.’

The thing that sucks about asthma is that it messes up your breathing so much that you can’t even take in enough oxygen so you can die normally. 15 minutes later, I’m on my bedroom floor trying to pull myself up. ‘I’m not gonna go out like this.'

The UCLA hospital is great. I have only been in a hospital twice. Once when I had an operation and was too drugged up to remember. The second time I was in high school when my dad tried to convince me to go into medicine. I watched him perform a cataract operation. I felt awkward being there, standing beside him. “Can you see what I’m doing?” he asked.

“Yeah, dad. Neat.” In actuality, it was boring, but I got to keep a cool surgical mask, which I wore on Halloween.

The ER was a lot different than the TV show ER. For starters, nobody was there. No homeless people, nobody bleeding. Maybe this was an off night. I pretty much walked right in and the nurse looked almost happy to take my blood pressure and finally do something.

“Problem?”

“Can’t breathe” I squeaked.

Her eyes lit up. “Let’s get to work!”

After my pre-examination, I sat in a tiny, barren room waiting for my doctor. The dizziness was gone but my breathing echoed across the hall. I figure having asthma is what fish feel like when they’re taken out of water. They don’t die instantaneously but just suffocate to death. I felt bad. I remember how many times I went trout fishing with my brothers, pulling them out and watching them die. I imagine I am like Hitler to fish.

Snap back into reality.

The doctor stuffed a nebulizer into my mouth, forcing oxygen into my body. I could feel it working, the air passages in my lungs opening up. The simple act of breathing is a wonderful. I hope all of you non-asthmatic readers realize that you are God's chosen children.

“All set,” the doctor said. I popped off the examination table and filled out some paperwork.

“You’re Tarun, I saw you at a comedy show. Are you performing anytime soon?”

I gave him my card. It’s a new card with my photo on it. I don’t know why, but I’m still embarrassed when I give it out. Hey, look at me! I’d almost rather give a card with somebody else’s photo on it. There’s a cute girl in my building who lives across the hall. That would be a great business card.

“Nice card.”

“Um, thanks.“

The next day I sat at Starbucks sipping coffee. I was exhausted from being up the night before, but pretty much forgot about everything that was bugging me. Life is short. I’ve got a lot to be thankful for. Of course, having asthma isn’t one of them, but everything else is pretty good.

A girl jogging on the street entered. She took out a tiny blue inhaler and shot a spurt of Ventolin into her mouth.

A lot of people wish they didn’t have asthma, but in some weird way, it’s who we are. We can do everything just as well as you can - just not breathe very well, and long distance running, and rock climbing, and fencing and martial arts and speed skating and swimming fast… well maybe not everything.

I sat back in my chair and finished my coffee. It’s great to be alive.

--tarun

A New Beginning - Jan 3rd - 2006

2011-09-26T14:11:00.001-07:00

A New Beginning

Tuesday, 3rd January

Welcome 2006! I hope everyone has made a New Years resolution and will go on to have a great upcoming year.

The big change is that the show I've spent the last year on has come to an end. There are rumors that we might go to another network, but until that happens I want to thank all the viewers who watched Showbiz India Extreme on AZN. It's been amazing to have random people approach me and get e-mails from girls who want to marry me. To create and be on a national TV segment has been one of the high points of my career and the experience has been awesome.

With that said... this past week I was contacted to perform at a New Years Eve party. For most people, New Years means a time to get together with family and friends, for comics it means selling your soul and making $$$$. Every season I'll get random offers to perform at company christmas/new year parties.

I've done a lot of weird gigs in the past. I remember one time an indian family hired me to perform in their basement somewhere in New Jersey. It was one of those desi parties where everyone was over 40, and I had to perform using a karaoke machine. Another time I performed on a cruise ship for a high school prom at 4:00 in the morning. Nobody even knew I was doing stand-up until I was about 15 minutes into my set. A few years ago, I said enough is enough. I refuse to have any involvement in lame comedy shows.

So this this past week, I was invited to perform at a New Years party. I ask, what type of crowd? He says, 300 mexicans. Not my ideal audience. Where? In the basement of a restaurant in Los Feliz. Not ideal working conditions. How much money? He gives me a figure that's like a week's salary at the television show I used to work at. SIGN ME UP!

Cut to: I'm at a bar at 8:20 doing shots with the bartender sizing up the room. Like forty tables in a highly done up basement. Along the walls are half-lit x-mas lights from the week before. In the middle of the room is a dance floor with two amps. Everyone is mexican except for one table that has an older group consisiting entirely of Indians. (aka the owners of the company)

I'm having an existential moment. I'm supposed to make a group of strangers, most of which having nothing in common with me, laugh for 40 minutes. Why did I agree to this?

The bouncer comes up to me. "Are you ready?"

"Let's rock"

The dj stops the music and pulls out a wireless microphone. 'Ok, I hope everyone is having a great time, and we a special guest!

(Who can it be... George Lopez?)

"TYROON SMETTY!" Techno music plays, I walk out. The crowd is definitely confused. A man yells out. Who are you!? I'm Tyroon Smetty! Don't you recognize me!? Your boss hired me to perform while you get smashed off free liquor.

I start banging out the act I've been working on this past year. Some sets are easy, the audience is with you. This one is tough. They all having amazingly low attention spans. If I lose them for 5 seconds then I lose them for the rest of the night. I don't give up. Never. Just keep hammering them with jokes. If I go down, fine, but I go down swinging. People are shouting stuff out during my premises

"I used to live in NY..."
"Go Jets!"
"Great. Thank-you so much for thoughtful insight."

46 minutes later, I slip off stage to a half applause. Thank-God this is over. The bartender passes me a drink. "I bet you weren't expecting this!"

Indeed I was. After all I am a comic. This is what I do and I've had this same show like 100 x's before. Still, there's a part of me that had fun. The rush I have right before I perform is still there. If it's not there, I should quit and find another career.

I sip my rum and coke and relax in the corner where nobody can see me.

Happy New Years.

Gobble, gobble, gobble. - Nov 26th - 2005

2011-09-24T15:29:00.001-07:00

Gobble, gobble, gobble

Saturday, 26th November

Happy Thanksgiving!

Right now, it's 10 o'clock in the morning here in Hollywood. I am in my boxers and sweatshirt. I just ate a bowl of Kix and a slice of cheddar cheese. I rented the movie 'Stripes,' and I'm going to eat chinese food with some friends tonight.

I am a very, very lucky person. This month I want to give thanks to all the great things in my life.

1. Everyone on my mailing list - Thanks to my fan base who has given me a career. Even though I still get mail from people who think I'm directly related to Indian movie star, Sunil Shetty. (not true!) I'll take anything I can get.

2. New York - Thank-you for completely breaking me as a human being. Without NY, I would have never come to Los Angeles, become more bitter and self-loathing and then finally experience some success.

3. Peanut Butter Sandwiches - Thank-you for helping me survive, 2001-2003. Also, Tarun Shetty fact #456. Tarun's first post-college job was making peanut butter sandwiches in Greenwich Village for $7.00 an hour. So without peanut butter I would have never bought my first Ferrari.

4. A&E Television - Thank-you for giving me time to plan. My first job in corporate television. I would get all my work done by 11 am and then plan my life the rest of the day. To this day, I still never really understood what I was supposed to do.

5. Stand-up Comedy- I hate stand-up comedy 64% of the time but love it 37% of the time. Thank-you for the opportunity to overcharge colleges and date girls that would normally never talk to me.

6. New Hampshire - the best place on earth. If you think I'm saying that cause I'm from here... well, you're right.

7. LA Girls - I've been asked so many x's 'what kind of car do you drive?' Thank-you LA girl for making me appreciate the private education and upbringing God has blessed me with.

8. Bollywood Television - Thank-you for giving me an outlet. Although I didn't know who Shahrukh Khan was (Indian movie star) til about 6 months ago, and I can't sit through a Hindi dance number without wanting to jump out a window, I'm glad such a thing exists.

9. Bruce Lee - Have you seen Fists of Fury? The man is a phenom and his ability to kick a** reminds me of myself.

10. Internet - Before the internet, everytime I'd send out a newsletter I'd have to get all your mailing addresses and write out individual letters. This thing has saved me soooo much time.

Oh yeah, other things I want to thank: family, friends and peace on earth.

see you next month!

--tarun

Daily Thoughts - Oct 31st - 2005

2011-09-24T15:28:00.001-07:00

Daily Thoughts

Monday, 31st October

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Ok. First off. I almost titled this month's piece 'LAME JOURNAL ENTRY' because I'm writing this under the gun and am due at a comedy club in 34 minutes. My 'thoughts' (which is code for poor grammar and no substance) will have to do. Ready... set... read!

TARUN'S FREE ASSOCIATION

I remember when I used to write online once every two weeks. It seemed like I had nothing better to do. Now, every thought is directed toward some weekly deadline. That's what Hollywood does to you. I am producing and hosting a show 6 days a week, performing stand-up 4 nights a week. Traveling free weekends across the country to perform at colleges. I’m very tired. But what is life if you go through it and not give it your best shot?

I don’t know why people have the need to mention Russell Peters to me. "Do you know Russell Peters?" I get asked this question like 5X a week. He's a great comic but you should probably contact him directly if you want to get in touch with him. Yesterday someone asked me if I know Russell Peters and I told him he was my father.

I literally broke up with my girlfriend yesterday. And really, I don’t even know why. I could be the most self-destructive person on earth and I feel bad for any girl who starts a relationship with me. So ladies, if you’re out there my cell phone is 917-345-2434.

I was watching a desi comedy show, and I wonder why do desi comics rely on Indian accents so much in their acts? I now do an impression of my dad with a German accent, just to separate me from the pack.

I have a 3X5 picture of Charlie Chaplin hanging on my mirror. I've finally accepted that I'm no Chaplin. Not even close. However, I am Tarun Shetty, which I hope is worth something.

I casted a kid in one of my videos a few months ago. I met his roommate. I sat down, gave him advice on stand-up comedy and television. Next thing I know, my executive producer calls me into her office and gives me an e-mail. The kid actually wrote her a letter saying he could do better at my job and they should fire me! I almost had our receptionist call him for an interview.

“Thanks for coming in. So how did you hear about us?”

11:13. I am going to be late for my spot. I'm not getting paid tonight so does this mean I owe them money? It still feels good to vent even if you don't know me… I'm still here.

Dream Girl - July 26th - 2005

2011-09-24T15:27:00.001-07:00

Dream Girl

Tuesday, 26th July

Hey Tarun here. So it’s been a while since the last entry. Apologies. It’s been a hectic two months. Been performing like crazy. Have been offered so much work, and I apologize to everyone who I’ve turned down. It’s hard for me to leave the city sometimes.

I see all these summer hookups going on, and I guess it’s appropriate to tell the first time I ever asked out a girl. I know to some people this is trivial, but it’s my journal and if you don’t like it then please go to cnn.com and read about current events.

So anyways, the first time I asked out a girl. Which is about four years prior to the actual experience. I was taking a summer course at Boston University. I was on some sort of kick that I’d read a newspaper everyday and head to the main periodical section of the library. There was an Indian girl working behind the counter. You had to give her your id if you wanted to scan out books. Take note, aside from family, I had never really been exposed to other South Asians. I was raised in NH and there really wasn’t anyone else. So maybe it’s like when you put a tiger raised by lions and then you put him with another tiger. His first instinct is that he wants to jump the other tiger after years of sexual repression. Ok. Let’s continue. The point is, from that day on, I read the Boston Globe... a lot.

Everyday I would sit there, level B2, read the first two pages and think ‘ok. Go introduce yourself and ask her out.’ When you have no experience you really have no foundation so it’s all a matter of learning hands on.

About two weeks into it I finally had the courage to approach her. “Hi, what’s your name?”
‘Jasmine.’
‘That’s a nice name, like Aladdin?’ She rolled her eyes.

Back to the newspaper. I couldn’t believe how I already screwed that up. I called my older brother.
“What do girls like?”
“Confidence. You got to have confidence.”

Right! That’s it! Confidence! I showed up everyday for the next two weeks. Most of the time I just analyzed my own body language trying to figure out how to look sexy while reading a newspaper. (t-shirt + glasses = sexy) I read each article, CONFIDENTLY. Three weeks later I made another approach.

“Hi! Do you like food?” I meant to ask her if she wanted to go to dinner and instead I asked her if she liked food. I couldn’t backtrack. Women like confidence. Yeah, I asked you if you like food. That’s the way I roll.
“ I guess so.”
“What kind of food do you like?”
“Um, Taco Bell.”
“Me too.”

By now, she thought I was completely insane. I talked to her two times and both times I didn’t even ask her out but instead made fun of her name and talked about Taco Bell.

This time when I went back to my newspaper there was a random guy sitting there who had just watched the entire incident.

“You should have just asked her out for coffee.”

Whatever. I am a super cool dude and you are a 37-year old librarian. I went home that night with something to think about. “Coffee.” Isn’t that a bit cliché?

Three days later I walked into the library on a mission. Coffee or bust. I made my approach.

“Hi, my name is Tarun.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Would you like to get coffee?”
“Um, ok.’
“Let me get your number.”
“No, let me get YOUR number!”

Success! I did it. That single incident made it the greatest day of my life. Of course, I was also introduced to a successful girl trick. Writing down the guys number and never calling.

Regardless, my life is rejection. Showbiz, performing live, girls, and everything else.
It’s only made me stronger. And if your name is Jasmine and you worked in the periodical section at Boston University like 7 years ago. Get over me. It’s time.

Tarun the TV Star - May 26th 2005

2011-09-24T15:26:00.001-07:00

Tarun the TV Star

Thursday, 26th May

I want to send a message to my loyal stand-up groupies. Because of this show I am currently on, I now perform mostly in Hollywood. I will have colleges lined up for next year and hope you can make it to a show.

Many of you are now reading this because you may have seen me on the tv show ‘Showbiz India Extreme’ (airing on the AZN network/fridays 9pm/sundays 12pm) and have googled my name. This web page has been up for almost three years now. Although you are a little late, I will tell you that this journal entry is riveting and is up for many literary awards.

Anyways, the segment I produce, ‘Generation Desi’ has been getting rave reviews, it’s seen by about 25 million people every week, and I have hosted about half the episodes. Because I am a control freak, I have asked to edit most of the segments myself. (hooray for film school!) I am also very grateful to our house editor, Atif Mizra, for going over my work and making it airable. For the record, I want to say that anything that’s not funny wasn’t my idea, and I have nothing to do with anything that sucks. Because many of you write in and ask what it is I now do, I have written my schedule.

The Schedule:

Monday – Come into our Pasadena office. I lock myself in my room and start brainstorming ideas for next week’s show. This usually involves me opening up my 4th story window and yelling “NAMASTE! SHOWBIZ INDIA!” to people walking on the street below. I lock myself in my office for six hours and play online poker. I emerge six hours later and brag to our secretary that I have come up with the best idea ever even though I have nothing. I lock myself in my office and resume poker.

Tuesday – Day off. I work on my stand-up act.

Weds – I come into work around 2pm and tell my boss that I’m late because I had 12 network tv auditions in the morning although in reality I was up till 4am the night before at a bar performing for drunk UCLA kids. I pitch my newest idea. ‘Tarun hangs out with three superhot desi girls to see what a typical day is like.” I get through two sentences before I am stopped and am reminded that alcohol is forbidden during office hours.

Thursday – I make about 40 phone calls to the heads of all the college south Asian student groups throughout California. I try to convince them to let me come to their school with a camera crew and use my celebrity influence. I leave messages, but I always ask the females to send me their photo in JPEG format for ‘records.’ Most people hang-up, but I am convinced that we got ‘disconnected’ and California has bad phone lines.

Friday – None of the girls I called the day before have called me back. I make more phone calls but realize that half the numbers in my ‘blackbook’ and just phone numbers to McDonalds. This one girl gave me a 1-800 number… There’s a note on my computer. ‘Reggie Benjamin’s publicist called… call back’ Reggie is a south asian singer and an international star. Apparently, they want coverage for his newest cd. Jackpot.

Sat – I meet Reggie Benjamin at his rehearsal space. Reggie Benjamin’s publicist is there and she is clearly wondering who the hell I am and why I am wearing a bandanna. ‘I’m Tarun, I host the show.’ She rolls her eyes but I know she is impressed with my star power. (Either that or she recognizes me from my Nickelodeon tv show six years ago that got me 5 minutes of on-screen time and lasted two episodes.) I also interview Reggie who happens to be a nice guy.

Sunday – I edit 11 hours straight. In college, I paid off an asian kid who sat in front of to edit my student films. (it now makes sense why my college films have so many shots of Godzilla and people running and screaming) I clock out at 1:03 in the morning. I take a moment, why am I working so hard? Are people even watching? I check my e-mail and see that someone has posted in my online guestbook. ‘Tarun your humor is dry.” I couldn’t believe it… PEOPLE ARE WATCHING! I am overjoyed with happiness because I know I have made a difference in this person’s life. God bless…

Tarun out.

I Got Punk'd - April 3rd - 2005

2011-09-24T15:25:00.001-07:00

I Got Punk'd

Sunday, 3rd April

Happy April! It’s Saturday morning here in West Hollywood. I finally put aside some time to update this journal. Quick updates. The Laugh Factory show from last month’s entry went well. So well that they asked me to come back in August! Hooray for urban shows!

Also, I have taken a writing job with the program ‘Showbiz India Extreme’ (airing on the I-Channel) It’s more work than I expected. I produce a segment on the show called ‘Generation Desi’ where a camera crew and host ventures into California colleges and nightlife spots to find out what the young Indian community is up to. I, personally, think it’s the best part of the show but the exec producer keeps telling me, “Tarun, we can’t make fun of people. Bad karma.” It’s a lot funnier than my description so you’ll just have to watch it yourself.

I think my most interesting experience from March came from an audition I had for MTV’s ‘Punk’d.’ It was to be a regular cast member on the show, I guess one of the sidekicks who helps play pranks on celebrities.

I tip my hat to anyone who’s an actor. Whether you’re auditioning in California for movies or Montana for community theater, it is extremely hard to accept constant rejection as a way of life.

So you can imagine my state of euphoria/confusion when I got a call telling me I was down to the final 12 to be on Punk’d. I go to MTV on Thursday morning. They have all twelve of us wait outside. People sitting on steps, standing around. It’s a bit weird because we know some of us will be cut and some of us will have a little bit more money tomorrow. I converse with this girl, Sarah. (I think she made it onto the show.) She’s really sweet, and we talked about comedy, life, anything but this audition.

Deep down I know it’s in the bag. The improv I had with the casting director the past week was pretty good, I’ve been doing stand-up for a long time, and I have a lot of audition experience. It is my time. I’ve paid my dues. Success is imminent.

An hour later I’m brought with another auditioner into the casting room. There’s at least six producers and of course, Ashton Kucher. He’s got this lame winter hat on even though it’s like 80 degrees outside. I do a double take because he’s actually really tall in person. Anyways, they tell me and my partner to choose a subject we’re an expert on. He chooses Batman, I choose cockatiels. (I had a pet cockatiel when I was kid.) Then they tell us, “Make assumptions, making fun of each other without making fun of each other.” I ask them to repeat the instructions because I am lost. They repeat the instructions, and I am still lost. Sensing my confusion, the casting director chimes in “Tarun, just like how we did in the casting room this week.” Well, I did improv scenes with her this past week, so now I really have no idea what I’m doing. I look at my partner for help, and he shrugs his shoulders.

We start the scene. Three minutes of inane dialogue and ‘assumptions’ that goes nowhere. No laughter, I actually heard somebody cough. The exec producer stops us. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” Ashton asks us to start again.

At least there is no way we can get any worse than the first time, right? Wrong. Our second attempt sucks even worse. A part of me is thinking “Am I being Punk'd?” The other half is thinking how funny this is considering this audition is a complete train wreck.

This time Ashton stops the scene, “THIS IS NOT GOING ANYWHERE!” He asks us to break for a minute and try one more time. I ask my partner, “Any suggestions?”
“Nope.”
We tell them we’re ready and do the scene the same exact way from the first time. “BOTH OF YOU... OUTSIDE!” Supposedly, they wanted us to come back, but then I found out we were ‘released,’ which is Hollywood code for ‘please never come back.’

People always ask “Was Ashton Kucher a d***?” No, actually, he was quite cool. And except for his annoying hat, I have nothing bad to say about him. Although I will say, my manger got feedback that I ‘imploded’ in the casting room, which is absolutely not true. I just wasn’t great that day. In fact, I wasn’t even good! I was terrible! But you know what, I gave it my best, and I ‘assume’ that’s good enough for me.

--tarun

Urban Legend - Feb 20 - 2005

2011-09-24T15:24:00.001-07:00

Urban Legend

Sunday, 20th February

Happy black history month! I would like to dedicate this journal entry to all my African- American friends. You know who you are and thanks for being there. I remember when I started out, the “white rooms” never put me on stage, but the black rooms always gave me shot. Of course, most of my sets ended with rap music played over me, and the audience yelling for the next act. Still, they gave me a chance, and I am very grateful.

To commemorate this month I have decided to do the Chocolate Sunday show at the Laugh Factory Feb 21. The last time I played an urban room it was three years ago in New York and the audience wanted to kill me. It was at the “Uptown Comedy Club” in Harlem a day after Sept 11th. As soon as I grabbed the microphone the audience chanted “Osama! Osama!” “Get out of our country!” Irritated, I responded, “I was affected by this too! Yesterday I showed up late for work.... I was like, Hey! They did it without me! What am I supposed to do with all these box cutters?!”

This lady stood up and whizzed a glass at my head. Another guy charged the stage. They stopped the show for ten minutes while the host escorted me through the back of the club.

Since then, I’ve stayed away from the ‘chitlin circuit’ as it’s called, but have decided to make my return tomorrow. I feel like Rocky in Rocky III after Clubber Lang beat the stuffing out of him in the first fight. Rocky began his quest to regain his title and hired Apollo Creed to whip him into shape. I, Tarun Shetty, am currently in training. To prepare for the event, I have been performing in the worst Mexican rooms I can find in LA. They are great audiences for some, but it can be tough relating to the crowds, and I have found the last week extremely challenging.

So tomorrow I dedicate my set (for better or worse) in honor of the great African-American leaders who took risks and paved the way for their community. I salute you, and hope I, too, can make a difference for my people. God speed.

tarun

2004 Fanmail/Hatemail - Jan 17th 2005

2011-09-24T15:23:00.001-07:00

2004 Fanmail/ Hatemail

Monday, 17th January

Happy 2005! Hooray!

This past year, I’ve received a lot of e-mails from people asking about what showbiz life is like in Hollywood. I don’t respond to 99% of them because one, I don’t have time. Secondly, no offense, but I’m not comfortable having relationships with people I don’t know via e-mail. So to commemorate 2004, I’ve taken a few e-mails out of my account and have responded. These are actual e-mails. If this is your e-mail, please don’t sue or write me another letter. After all, I have changed your name and I will post any complaint letters next month.

Dear Tarun,

I saw you at the NetIP convention in Philadelphia. Thanks so much for coming. I really enjoyed your performance. I am not into Indian guys but you are really good looking. One question, Is there a Mrs. Shetty in your life? If not, are open to a blind date? When are you coming to NY?

Signed

Cynthia X
New York, NY

Dear Cynthia,

Thanks for your letter. I was actually living in NY when I performed at NetIp and stayed there for another 2 years so you probably should have checked my website calendar. Secondly, yes, I am single, but I am really not that good looking and have had incredible amounts of plastic surgery. As for marrying me, sure, why not? Let’s get married. E-mail me the info (place, time) and I will be there.

Your future lover,

Tarun

Dear Tarun,

Yo dog, you were the s*** at that Indian Masala show at New York Comedy Club. That show f*cking sucked till you came on. I never seen a desi comic b4. How long you been doin this for. You must get all the p*ssy dog. When are you coming to RIJ? Thanks for making fun of my friend Sanjeet (we sat in the front right next raz freak). do you remember? Hit me up 917-***-****.

-- Prassad
Queens, NY

Dear Prassad,

Thanks for your letter. Yes, I do remember you. You sat in the front and talked the entire time. Um, thanks. To answer your question, I’ve been doing this about seven years. Also, I have no idea what RIJ is so I will probably be there sometime next week. Also, didn’t I talk to you after the show? You were very trashed. Peace out ‘dog’.

word,

Tarun

Tyroon,

You came to NJIT last Saturday. You were awful. Two words: Quit comedy.

--Mike
Trenton, NJ

Dear Mick,

Thank you for your kind words of support.

Tarun

Dear Tarun,

I typed in “Shetty” into Google and your webpage came up. Do you ever perform in India? I’ve never heard of you. What movies have you been in? Have you met Sunil Shetty? Do you like Bollywood movies? Where can I buy or rent your movies? My friends have never heard of you either and I’m guessing you’re a United States star. Come back home. We need you here. FYI, your webpage needs more journal entries and pictures.

--Sanjay
Bombay, INDIA

Dear Sanjay,

Thanks for visiting my webpage. You sure like to ask questions and I will answer all of them. No, I don’t perform in India, I’ve never been in a movie, I’ve never met Sunil Shetty, I don’t like Bollywood Movies, you’ll be able to rent a Tarun Shetty movie by 2006 at your local Blockbuster. The United States is my home so I’m afraid you’ll have to come here. And I agree, my webpage does need more pictures and journal entries. Send me some pictures and journal entries and I’ll be sure to post them.

Best,

Tarun

Dear Tarun,

Who is your favorite comic? What Nickelodeon Show were you on? I can’t find it! Where can I see you on TV?

Dan
Manhattan NY

Dear Dan,

I like this guy named Warren Hutcherson who now exec produces the Bernie Mac Show. He’s really funny. Chappelle was good about seven years ago. I don’t watch too much stand-up nowadays and just try to do my own thing.

I did stand-up on a now cancelled program called “Laugh Out Loud” where they mixed kids trying to do comedy with professionals. Look for me on other cancelled shows and programs nobody watches such as “Wild Wild Web” on CBS, Country Music Television “40 Greatest Done Me Wrong Songs,” and the Independent Film “Guns Don’t Kill.”

--Tarun

Dear Tarun,

You came to Unversity of San Diego last week. My friends and I had a great time and hope you can come back. I’d like to do comedy and am not sure how to get started. (my parents will kill me) Could you give me some advice?

Any help would be appreciated,

Stan
San Bernidino, CA

Dear Stan,

Thank you very much for having me. If you want to do comedy, the most important thing is to get on stage consistently and write as much as you can. Comedy is fun. It’s very political and I’ve met a lot of people I could do without, but it’s the process of getting better and developing that will keep you going.

My parents almost killed me too, which is why they live in NH, and I live in Hollywood. I suggest having a normal job and doing this as a hobby. If you keep working hard, things will fall into place and you’ll be able to quit your job and do comedy more full time. (Which is where I am now.) I’m not sure what happens after that, but so far I’m pretty happy how things have turned out.

See you,

Tarun

Life 101 Nov 5th 2004

2011-09-24T15:20:00.001-07:00

Life 101

Friday, 5th November

Somebody once told me, ‘decide what you want and then ask yourself what price you’re willing to pay to get it.’ Well this past month I think I paid enough to put me ahead the next few months. Everyday is a new adventure here in Los Angeles. Rather than focus on just one thing, I’ve condensed each experience for your reading pleasure. The following stories are 100% true. *note: everyday has improved since my arrival. I hope my experiences will help you become more vigilant in your own life.

1.) The Sexual Assault - So I’ll begin with that I live in West Hollywood and gay guys love me in my neighborhood. I’m not homophobic, but I do wish I got hit on by as many girls and the large men in my neighborhood. Last week, I decided to explore my new home. I was strolling down Santa Monica Blvd, and this guy who was twice my size starts following me. (ok, maybe not twice my size. I’m 6’0 but the guy was at least 6’5.) He began with the usual, “Hey gorgeous’ or something. I can’t quite remember. I lived in New York for six years so I’m pretty good at ignoring sexual predators. The next thing I know, I feel this large hand touch my inner thigh reaching for something. I responded by pushing the guy as hard as I could over a fire hydrant and threatened to punch him. He replied, ‘punch me really? mmmm… delicious!’ Since that day, I have worn my oversized Gap hooded-sweatshirt every time I set foot outside my apartment.

2.) The Car Crash – I had a brand new 2004 Passat. Brand new. It had 148 miles on it. I stopped at an intersection for a left turn. I had the green light. A lady in lane #1 coming in the opposite direction stopped and motioned for me to go. Unfortunately, I didn’t see the car in lane #2 flying down the street. Long story short, I have $6000 worth of damage on my car and am now driving a Hertz rental. My nerves are shot, and my insurance will probably go through the roof, but I am alive – hooray! The lesson in this is always drive with your seatbelt on and never admit fault at an accident scene.

3.) I Am Not a Pedophile – As I said last month, I took this job part-time passing out free movie flyers and get paid by how many people show up. I’ve never quit at anything in my life but this may be the first. Basically, the studios have fancy pre-screenings of movies and they hire the company, who, in turn, hire us to pull in the targeted demographic. I have a few problems with this company. One, the movies usually suck. Two, I can only give them out to the targeted age and ethnicity instructed on the ticket. Three, they send like five of us to the same place so you can imagine how competitive it gets.

Last week, they send me to Thousand Oaks, California to the Marketplace Mall to give out movie passes for the ‘Mask II.’ Yep, they made a sequel. This time with Jaime Kennedy. I’m not going to say the movie will bomb but when it gets released, the country will be put in orange-alert. (insert rim shot here) Anyway, my boss tells me to only give out passes to parents who have children between 7-11, otherwise they can’t get in. I drive two hours to this god-forsaken town, arrive at the mall and find five other guys giving out movie passes within a 50 feet radius of each other. Ridiculous.

The people who know me best know that I am extremely arrogant and refuse to do anything the way it’s supposed to be done. With that said, I ask around and head to St. Josephs private elementary school. What better place to find parents and kids then school? On my way, I pass a group of kids who were having a bake sale. I haven’t volunteered in a while so I justified that buying five dollars worth of cookies from a group of children would cleanse my sins.

I arrive at 3pm, a half-hour early. I’m in the front parking lot outside the school entrance so I can catch the parents as they pick up their kids. It never occurred to me how suspicious I seemed waiting out front with a box of cookies. Next thing I know, the police arrive. After five minutes of bad explaining, I am not arrested and am escorted off school premises. Later that day, I was kicked out of a Macy’s “junior section” department store, a McDonald’s playground and a nearby school soccer field.

I guess the lesson learned is that sometimes it's better to play by the rules. But if not, be prepared to run. t$

Tarun vs LA Oct 16th 2004

2011-09-24T15:18:00.003-07:00

Tarun vs. LA

Saturday, 16th October

So I’m writing this in LA on my friends’ floor while watching Rocky III. I want to thank Adam Hunter who has put me up in his apartment this past week. I am not easy to live with and he has been nothing but good to me. Showbiz is a tough life. Careers are at stake, so few spots for so many people. Throughout my short career, I’ve learned that it’s almost impossible to not be stabbed in the back with this year being no exception. However, with a strong support system, it’s easy to bounce back and keep going.

As expected, LA is no joke. I feel like this entire town is a movie set because nobody seems real. It's hard to make allies unless you have something that you can offer in exchange. I am not getting on stage as much as I was in NY, and I left all my representation so I’m not even auditioning. I am scrambling for money and took a part-time job last week. I spent Wednesday giving out free movie passes to ‘Bridget Jones Diary II” at UCLA. (the man training me admonished me four different times and instructed that ‘this is not a dating service’ because apparently I flirt too much.) Every gay guy in LA hits on me, the sun has made me four shades darker, I am tired. I miss my friends, running in central park, Jane Street, St. Josephs’ soup kitchen, seeing movies with J-Lu, my brother, house classes, NYU gym, the A&E thugs in room 1205, the list goes on.

For anyone who feels sorry for me please cry me a river. Life is hard and these are the rules. I am a persistant guy, and I have every intention of coming out on top. keep the faith.

tarun

Life to Do List Aug 11th 2004

2011-09-24T15:18:00.001-07:00

Life To Do List

Wednesday, 11th August

My birthday is next week. Hooray! I’m not sure what my plans are. I may be performing at a wedding in Pittsburgh, though it’s still up in the air. And like all birthdays, I’ve become reflective these past few days. My life could end tomorrow, but there’s so much more left to do. Below are five things (in no particular order) that I have set out to accomplish.

#1 Sell Out The Beacon Theater – The Beacon Theater is a small venue in New York. It’s nothing special, but I used to walk by this place every night on my way home after working the door at a comedy club. To be honest, I’ve never even been inside. But I know Ellen Degeneres played it a couple times. Perhaps it’s just for validation or maybe I want to feed my own ego and see my name on the small light board outside. It’s just a matter of time, and it would beat playing at a s***** comedy club.

#2 Have a family – If you were to ask me if I wanted a family five years ago I would have said no. I was all about sacrifice. No pain, no gain. I wouldn’t let anyone stand in my way. My motto was ‘relationships are for the weak.’ Not saying I was wrong. That’s just how I felt five years ago. Things change. I was at my cousin’s three year birthday last weekend, and I think I changed my mind. At the same time, if my kid turns out to be anything like me… God save us all.

#3 Join the Peace Corp – I may not go through with this one. Only because a two-year commitment is a long time and if I happen to accomplish goal number two then there’s no way I’m leaving for Guatemala or whatever for twenty-four months. However, I really intend to have positive impact on this world. I will always continue to volunteer, but the Peace Corp would be the ultimate.

#4 Financial Security:
I’m going to do this. Mark my words. Don’t get me wrong. Let me be clear. I am not obsessed with money. In fact, I was broke five years ago, and made $6.25 an hour to make peanut butter sandwiches. I just don’t ever want to come near this state of being ever again. However, the great thing about being poor is when I had nothing, I found myself falling back on my character, and I tried harder to be a better person. I wouldn’t be the person today if it wasn’t for the hard years starting out.

#5 Fall In Love - This is the gayest thing I’ve ever wrote in this online journal. But I can safely say that I’ve never fallen for a girl, ever. My married friends encourage me to find this, my divorced friends warn me. The people closest to me know that I work incessantly on my career. I put minimal effort into finding ‘the one,’ plus I am very shy. Also, for some reason, girls don’t like it when I ask them to sign a pre-nup on the second date. Que sera, sera….

t$

Japaenese Superstar July 12th 2004

2011-09-24T15:17:00.001-07:00

Japanese Superstar

Monday, 12th July

I started acting about three years ago and have come to terms that this is probably one of the most ridiculous professions in the world. I pretty much fell into it. I get sent out by these crazy agents in New York. Not sure what the end result will be, but for now it’s a fun thing to do on the side.

So a couple months ago I had an opportunity to do extra work. Anyone with a photo can do it. Basically just fit some physical type and you too can work as an extra in a commercial.

I get the call. “Tarun, you want to be an extra?”

Of course, no one in their right mind wants to be an extra. But I think, ‘I am an artist. As of yet, I’ve never done extra-work and perhaps the experience will serve me well in the future.”

“OK!”

It’s still barely spring and quite cold. Cut to 4:30 am in midtown, New York City. I’m on set for a Honda commercial airing only in Japan. In fact, the entire crew is transported from Japan so 90% of the people don’t speak English. They wear spray-painted hats with titles such as “DIRECTOR” and “PRODUCTION ASSISTANT.”

I spend most of the morning asleep on a trailer floor huddled between fourteen other extras. Around 11:00 am I’m dragged outside and paired with another extra who is supposedly my pretend wife. She is hot. Well, maybe hot like ten years ago but hot nonetheless.

I’m framed in the camera shot and walk up and down the street a couple times when the director pulls me aside and starts yapping in Japanese. I nod, trying to decipher his body language.

A translater informs, “You and your wife walk arm and arm towards car.” I made it! Yes, an extra, but now a featured extra. My face and body will be visible to the world.

I fix my hair and adjust the black suit I squeezed into that morning. Action! My partner holds my arm with her head on my shoulders. We walk toward the cars, a young couple in love, strolling towards our brand new, s***** Honda mini-van. “Cut!”

By the sixth take, the sun is really shining. Her dress is clinging to her. Really clinging to her. She’s pretty, and is flirting with me big time. She’s whispering in my ear and finding excuses to touch me between takes. I force myself to play along. For the sake of the scene, I am an actor.

Then I hear it. “Action!” What?! No, I’m not ready, dare I say – I am turned on. Go away!

“Action!”

I walk very slowly, very delicately. My partner asks if I’m in pain. “Cut!”

“Excellent Tarun. The last take -- excellent.”

"Uh, thanks."

So right now, I’m on some commercial in Japan with a – well, let’s just say I’m happy. Honda will probably sell a billion cars. No need to thank me, after all, I am an actor.

The Early Years May 3rd 2004

2011-09-24T15:15:00.001-07:00

The Early Years

Monday, 3rd May

At 19 I was hired to work the door at the Boston Comedy Club. For the next two years I spent three days a week, four hours a night, on a narrow, metal rail outside the entranceway in exchange for the last spot of the night. The audiences were unruly animals, I was never paid well and ultimately fired. (My first true introduction to show business!) Still, I learned the basics of my craft and think the experience made me a better man.

One of my more memorable nights occurred during the Toyota Comedy Festival. Basically, it’s a festival in New York, which has shows throughout the week at different New York comedy clubs. Tonight was the Boston Comedy Club’s turn. It was such an event that even the club’s owner/ talent manager, Barry Katz, a man who I saw three times during my two-year tenure, made a surprise visit. More importantly, actor/comic, Jay Mohr, was making a much-publicized 10:15 visit.

Being the naïve child, I sat outside thinking how lucky I was to work such an event and that one day I, too, will be able to perform on a festival that no one has ever heard of. The crowds filed in, and I parked my a** outside the club thanking God for the goodwill bestowed upon me.

At 10:09, Barry came outside and frantically called somebody on his cell phone. The MC asked me if I had seen any of the other comics. “Nope.”

The MC whispered something into Barry’s ear, and then they both looked at me. “Can you do 8 minutes?” Yes!

My shot at stardom came early. Tonight was my night to prove that comedic greatness had come in the human embodiment of Tarun Shetty. Unfortunately, it was my first time playing to a large, attentive audience and it showed.

For starters, I’m talking fast. So fast, I finish all my jokes in about five minutes and am looking for the flashing red light that signals comics to get off stage. I think I even did a joke twice from the beginning of my set. People are laughing only because of the ridiculousness of my act. I look to the right and owner Barry Katz is watching in bewilderment. I’m starting to sweat while self-analyzing each thought. Why am I talking about world politics? I’m only 19. Do I have a perspective on Israel? Furthermore, why am I talking about Israel? “So my girlfriend… ” But wait, my previous joke informed the audience I was single. Did anyone notice? How did I get from Israel to my girlfriend? Go for the glass of water. It’s too far! Go for it! Empty! Fake it!! I take a fake sip. The red light comes on. ‘Thank-you. You’ve been a great audience!’

I walk off stage, and find Barry is waiting for me. My big break? He takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “Um…find Jay and tell him he’s on next.”

I didn’t become a star that night. In fact, I didn’t even get paid because they forgot to include me when they allotted the nightly cash fund. But I learned an important lesson that night: I suck. No, wait. I guess the moral is “don’t be arrogant.” No, that’s not right either. Well, I guess if there is a moral it’s that if you’re going through a tough time in life you absolutely must hang in there. Trust me. I've been there and life will get better. Believe that good things are on the horizon because they are. My first few years of comedy could have easily broken me had I not believed in myself, as you should too.

L8r.

Fight March 3rd - 2004

2011-09-24T15:13:00.001-07:00

Fight!

Wednesday, 3rd March

College was an interesting time for me. I had a few good friends, but I also had just as many arch-enemies. One incident that sure didn’t help came late during my sophomore year.

I was going to class one February morning when a pretty Indian girl got into a crowded elevator with me. Anyway, she started talking to me, (* important detail!) Being the nice guy that I am, I reciprocated, and she ended up inviting me to a party on Saturday night. Amongst the people in the crowded elevator was a short, leather-jacket wearing grubby kid who shot me a dirty look on the way out. I smiled back.

Dinner is an important part of college social life. Every night between 5 and 7:30 pm kids flocked to the dining hall to have their pre-paid meals, which they paid thousands of dollars for at the beginning of the year. This particular dining hall that I frequented had two rooms. The larger one was more festive. Kids sat at tables based upon what group they fit into: basketball team, foreign kids, pretty girls, basically any quality that you shared with another.

The second room was reserved for people who wanted to study while they ate. Anyways, every night I would catch the last half-hour of dining hours, sit in the small room and work on my act. I enjoyed it. I used to work the door at a comedy club in Greenich Village so going over my notes at dinner was a pre-ritual.

One night as I crossed through the big room to my usual spot. I passed the Indian table and recognized the grubby kid from the elevator pointing me out to another kid seated beside him. Here’s the strange part. He looked exactly like me. Well, minus the greased hair, leather jacket and gold earring, but if I had an evil doppelganger on this planet it was that guy. I rolled my eyes and continued walking. I got about ten minutes into my dinner when the two kids from the table strolled into the room. They were carrying empty trays and wanted to speak with me before departing. My twin walked right up to my table and looked me right in my eyes. “What the f***?”

The English language can be especially tricky because of the different types of slang adopted into everyday use. I think this particular phrase is commonly used by people who are completely exasperated. I’m sure these words were uttered and started many gunfights in the old west. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if these were Napoleon’s last words before he was wiped out at Waterloo. I looked it up in Webster’s dictionary.

Websters defines “f***” as

v. fucked, f***•ing, fucks v. tr.
1.To have sexual intercourse with.
2.To take advantage of, betray, or cheat; victimize.
3.Used in the imperative as a signal of angry dismissal.

Obviously, this guy was using meaning number three. He began ranting about his girlfriend and how he has “issues” with people who flirt with his girlfriend. I put on my headphones and turned the volume up.

The next few moments took place very quickly, but I will recall each detail just as I later told the building’s residential assistant. I remember looking down at my notes and feeling coke splash against my face. I looked up. The Grub stood above me, holding an empty plastic glass. I got up and flipped his tray towards him, splattering leftover hamburger helper on his shirt and mistakenly onto the thugged one’s jacket. My doppelganger pushed me. I fell, but not before grabbing onto his jacket, bringing him down with me.

Soon we were rolling around the cafeteria floor as students filed into the overcrowded room to cheer us on. A minute later, two security guards broke through the commotion and pried us apart. As we were led through the dining hall, students broke into applause, making it one of my first positive responses from a mass crowd of strangers.

Nothing happened aside from a letter to my parents and a letter warning of suspension upon “further incident.” I’m not sure why I lost control that day. I’m usually very calm and am quite embarrassed about the whole incident. It may even be connected to why I don’t shut down audience hecklers quick enough. But I guess sometimes in life you have to stand up for yourself.

I told my brother this story and he reminded me of the 80’s TV show ‘Knight Rider’ when the lead character, Michael Knight, must take on his evil twin. Michael defeats him, but must have a final confrontation with him once more in a future episode. I don’t know when that day is. But if you’re out there and reading this doppelganger, you’re going down.

My Day With the Achilles Track Club - Jan 29th 2004

2011-09-24T15:12:00.001-07:00

My Day With The Achilles Track Club

Thursday, 29th January

Hey friends. As many of you know, in addition to showbiz, one of my ultimate goals in life is to leave the world a better place.

Last summer I worked with the Achilles Track Club. In general, it’s a program for disabled runners with cerebral palsy, paraplegia, arthritis, amputation etc… The New York City Achilles Track Club specifically deals with runners with visual impairment. Basically, if you can run, you show up and guide someone who needs help.

Blind people live dangerously in New York. The city is filled with endless landmines -- moving cars, subway terminals, stairwells. One small lapse in judgment could result in a serious fall or injury. I was determined that whoever ran with me would experience complete liberation from their disability and run with complete freedom.

Saturday, 8:40 in the morning, 86th street and Fifth Ave in Central Park. It’s 85 degrees, which is unusually hot for a July morning. A small group of people have gathered. The volunteer runners stand on one side, and the visually impaired are directly across.

In my conversations, I realize that all the volunteers have good genes and fit some strange ‘over-achiever’ mold: athletic, good-looking, great day jobs. I make friends with a volunteer who works as an investment banker during the day and has been an Achilles Track Club member for the past five years.

“It’s my first day, but I plan on coming back.” I respond.

Andy, the group director, writes our names in his clipboard and pairs us with disabled runners based on how much you want to run. (I say ‘two miles’ unlike my usual ‘seventeen’ because I want to go easy on my jogger.)

My partner is Eric. He’s a guy my age, but needs a stick to get around. My first impulse is to extend my hand. Instead I opt to say “hello” really loud. Andy offers us a short, tethered rope with giant knots, a running tool used to connect volunteer with the disabled, but Eric prefers to lightly hold onto my arm as we run. Our adventure begins.

I think the complete jogging track in Central Park is eleven miles. However, if you take an appropriate turn you can run a two-mile loop. We run slowly. Eric is quiet, and a good guy. Harvard undergrad, wannabee screenwriter, he tells me that he’s spent most of his life trying to lose weight.

Meanwhile, I can’t stop talking. I have this incredible need to be more than an empty void. In addition to sharing every life experience, I ask millions of questions and add miscellaneous conversation tidbits like “That’s great!” “Really!” In actuality, I feel self-conscious that I am running with a grown man holding onto my arm, and remember that I haven’t had an intimate relationship in six months.

Eric gets tired after a mile and a half. I can hear it in his winded-breath. “Are we almost there?” He asks.

“About another half mile.” I respond. “We’re right there.”

I look at the passing park maps. Something is off. I’ve ran this route twice before, and I clearly remember passing a water fountain. I am lost.

“Can we stop for some water?” Eric asks.

“Yeah, coming up.” Don’t get me wrong. I’ve lied many times in my life. I’ve lied to my mom, I’ve lied to college roommates, I’ve lied to potential employers, but lying to the blind was clearly a first.

Ten minutes pass. The sun is disgustingly brighter. Eric is really sweating, and I’m getting tired. I wonder how far we are from 86th street. I wonder how far we are from the nearest subway station, and if Eric carries a metro card on him.

“I need to stop.” Eric proclaims.
“In a minute.” I reply.

I pick up the pace. Something about Eric is bugging me. Maybe I sensed an underlying snideness in his tone of voice. Or maybe it is his blissful ignorance that life is great. Life is not great. You’re blind.

Eric stops running.

“I’m walking the rest of the way.”
“But we’re right –“
“My legs hurt.”

Like two adventures crossing the Sahara, we amble down the dusty Central Park horsetrack arm in arm. I am not a bad guy. I really want Eric to have a good experience, and I simply forgot a turn. I fear that Eric will tattle-tale on me to Andy, the club director, but my immediate concern is I let Eric down.

“Tarun!” I turn around. It is an odd sight. The investment banker guy races towards me. His flush-red face is a sharp contrast to the fluorescent green rope wrapped around his wrist, which drags his visually-impaired partner.

“How much further?” I yell.
“Just a little ahead!”

Eric and I both run to the finish and practically bowl over Andy and his stupid clipboard to get to the water fountain.

“How was it guys?”

“Fine.” Eric responds.
“I got lost” I blurt, but no one seems to hear me.

I walk Eric back to the Achilles Track Club Center, and help him locate his walking stick.

It was cool that Eric didn’t make a big deal out of it, but it was a reminder that it's ok to ask for help once in a while. I still want to save the world, but for now I think I’ll just stick with writing jokes.

How To Pick Up Strippers - Thurs - Dec 25th - 2003

2011-09-24T03:52:00.001-07:00

How To Pick Up Strippers

Thursday, 25th December

Merry X-mas Gang. Enjoy…

When you live the life of a comic, you must accept that your life is going to be a little different. The way you react to normal everyday occurrences will be different, the people you hang out with are going to be different, and what you do in your free time will be different.

So for a while, a tiny little strip club in the heart of Times Square became my hangout spot.

I don’t know how I ever got into a habit of doing this. I’ve never been a stripper type of guy. But I did perform stand-up comedy at Grammercy Comedy/Strip Club in New York City. I would do comedy there for people who really had no idea why they were watching comedy, and then hang out with strippers.

I learned the dancers names, I learned their real names, but most importantly I learned that strippers are like comics. Sure, they smile and let you stuff a dollar bill in their g-strings but ultimately we are both performers who have to be on stage no matter how we feel and make people happy. One way they’re not like us is that strippers are incredibly hard to pick-up.

At this point, I’d like to introduce a friend who usually accompanied me after hours, Adam. Adam is a good comedian, but he’s even better at picking up strippers. And I’m not talking about the 45-year old who’s on her way out to the stripper retirement home. He’s gotten the best: Rica, Lana, Katrina. A-List strippers who don’t mess around with losers.

I remember my first time out. We got a table off to the side. I was incredibly embarrassed to make eye contact with the naked girls who danced before me, and I felt bad for them because of the predicament they were in. Adam, however, was incredibly outgoing, and made an effort to make conversation. Even more surprising was that he left with a stripper’s phone number.

A freak occurrence? I saw this happen again, again and again and quickly learned the five golden rules.

Strippers are people.
When a stripper approaches be personable but not desperate.
Don’t be cheap.
Make eye contact when they dance. (They’re performers too!)

And the most important rule…

NEVER GET A LAP DANCE.

I stress the last rule because in a roomful of guys it’s the only thing that differentiates you from being another customer. I became good. Not the best, but I was certainly more relaxed and was getting closer to picking up a stripper.

Judgment day came in late August. We had wrapped up a comedy show and got our usual table. The club was dead, and a young Persian girl named Hessa sat down beside us. She was an ok looking girl with amazing features. I pretended not to notice.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

I calmly answered “Tarun,” sipped my Corona and looked the other way.

From that point on, Hessa was mine. We mostly talked about the rigors of a performer’s life. How much she hated nights like this where she couldn’t make money, trying to make ends meet and support her family and I did my best to enlighten her about the harsh world of comedy. I couldn’t get over her intelligence. She was like some sort of erotic superhero: Columbia graduate student by day, stripper by night. I thought I made a new friend.

It wasn’t until she grabbed me at 3:00 in the morning and whispered in my ear, “I get off at 4. We’re going to have a good time tonight.” It was on.

I had a date with a stripper. The next hour was probably the toughest of my life and this is where the Indian part of me kicks in, ultimately driving me one-step closer to insanity.

Do I take her home? No, I don’t do one-night stands. Do I take her out for food? By ‘good time’ I don’t think she meant eating omelets.

A two-front war broke out in my head: the hormones vs. the code of ethics.

I’m 25. Have fun... No. Having sex with a stripper underlies every good deed I’ve done in my life… I live for one purpose and one purpose alone… No. I live by my own decisions, not some values delegated by some eight-armed elephant.

Hessa saw me sitting in the corner struggling with my demons and put her hand on my shoulder. “Wanna dance?” I looked up and saw a pretty, half-naked Persian stripper standing before me.

I don’t know what possessed me to get that dance. I think it was a compilation of confusion, anxiety and curiosity. To tell you the truth, she wasn’t even that good.

3:58 am. Hessa stepped off stage, and I approached wearing my coat. “Listen, I –“

She cut me off. ”I’m really tired. Come back again. You know my name.” Any chance I had was gone. I was a customer.

4:30 am. I walked down Broadway with Adam at my side. The night’s peacefulness quelled any leftover tension and washed away the hormones and morals which lay dead on the battlefield.

Adam gave me the chide/make you feel better lecture, “You never get a lap dance, never… she was a dog anyway.”

It was ok. There are few things men can only dream of doing in their lifetimes. Climbing the Swiss Alps, seeing Michealangelo’s Sistene Chapel and for a brief moment I came close to picking up a stripper.

The Window - Monday - Nov 10th - 2003

2011-09-24T03:51:00.001-07:00

The Window

Monday, 10th November

Hey loyal readers. So I’m back with another exciting entry. I want to just say that these past few weeks have been really busy, and I apologize for keeping everybody waiting. Soooooo…

A long time ago in a land far away, I used to work a full-time job. Egads! Say it isn’t true. Well I did, and let me tell you it sucked. I worked on the 28th floor in W-ABC’s storage room in New York City. I knew the job wasn’t going to be fun because a year before I got there a guy hated his job so much that he actually jumped out the window. Anyway, on this top floor of this particular W-ABC building there was this balcony. It wasn’t a real balcony. It was like a large ledge, almost like a sidewalk with a guardrail that encircled the building.

My first day I asked the girl next to me if I could go outside, and she looked at me like I was crazy. As if programmed into her head, she stated, “NO GOING OUT THE WINDOW,” and then took out an office memo from her desk drawer, which officially prohibited people from going outside. I continued asking around. Anyone I could find: fellow employees, managers, and mailroom people. From cameras to laser beams, everyone had a different story, and all of them seemed frightened by the unknown consequences if you dared to venture on the balcony.

Those of you who that have worked a job they hated can understand the mind-numbing effects. Everyday I would sit at my desk, and imagine myself doing greater things. The window was my salvation. A reminder that a world existed outside of W-ABC.

One Friday I worked late. Real late. Everyone left the office, and I was stuck filling out tape evaluation reports, which could be the most boring television job ever. I noticed that all of the lights were off in the building across the street. Curious, I got up from my desk and walked around my floor. Empty. There’s a good scene in Ferris Buellers’ Day Off when he has a showdown with his sister. He represents the free-spirited teenager while she was the frustrated girl who played by the rules. That’s how I felt. All my life I did exactly what I was told: don’t do drugs, don’t mess up in school, do your job. This was my chance to be Ferris.

I stood on my desk and yanked hard. Granted, it took me three tries because the thing hadn’t been open in years. It actually just popped, and I remember wondering if I could ever get the window to close again, and how I would explain the reason for opening it in the first place. I stuck my head outside. Barbed wire to my right, but the ledge extended to the left and wrapped around the building. No cameras. No lasers beams. “Don’t think. Do.”

I slithered out head-first on my stomach. I guess I felt more clandestine in case there was someone watching me from across the street. Plus, a sharp wind would rush by every few seconds, and I felt more safely rooted to the ground. I pushed myself up using the wall behind me, and took a baby step forward. The view was AMAZING. In addition to the Blimpie’s where I got my chicken sandwich everyday, I could see the entire city. I also had access to everyone’s office. It made sense. Because the company would never actually spend money to make a fortified balcony, someone had the idea to make one up, and have our imaginations set our own restrictions. I carefully walked along the side of the building and sat down with my feet over the side. Twenty-five years of mental repression liberated by the sight of opportunity.

--Ferris

Evening Citizen - Oct 28th - 2003

2011-09-24T03:50:00.003-07:00

Evening Citizen	Tuesday, 28th October
So I'm getting a lot of 'are you ok?' messages from friends and family because of that last post. I guess the world is not ready for 'dark Tarun.' Until I am able to collect my happy thoughts again, here is the link to the best newspaper in the world. tarun http://www.citizen.com/

Thoughts - Oct 24th - 2003

2011-09-24T03:50:00.001-07:00

thoughts

Friday, 24th October

Ok. If you are expecting a story: stop reading. In fact, don't even read this because most of what i'm going to write will make no sense to you. However, I really need to vent so maybe there will be some good in this. So tonight I went on stage in the wrong frame of mind. Every problem I encounter in life just weighs down on me, can't let go. Every insecurity, all the negative energy. It's like I'm haunted by all these demons. The fight alienates me from others. I fear i am slipping into insanity each with passing year and, with much regret, am doing an excellent job of hiding it. I am my own worst enemy.

Ok... better

The Seven Components of Dating - Monday, 6th October - 2003

2011-09-24T03:48:00.003-07:00

Hey Gang.

I went on a date two weeks ago. (That’s right! A date!) Or at least I think it was, I still don’t know. I broke it down into seven components, which will hopefully bring new understanding to the mind of a single guy, and aid relationships around the world.

THE SETUP:

I perform at Netip, a huge southasian event. Good set all around. The plus side is they give me passes to all the after parties. I’ve got nothing else to do. I figure why not.

I go to the party only to realize I know absolutely no one, and everyone appears to be five drinks ahead of me. People making out on the dance floor. Girls look thrashed. I’m about to leave when I recognize a girl who was at the show earlier. Normally I’m pretty shy. However, I’ve been drinking, and because I just started drinking like a year ago, I have this abnormally low tolerance level and act ridiculously foolish. I approach. We talk for two minutes when her friend almost collapses. She’s about to make a hasty exit. Alarm bells go off. GO! GO! GO! I whip out “the card,” man’s true best friend.

THE PLAN:

A week later I get a voicemail on my cell phone. It’s her. Bang. The message is cryptic. She reminds me of our meeting, but adds the line, “I’m just calling because I think you’re a good contact to have.” What does this mean? She’s in dental school. I’m a comic. How am I going to be a good contact? Do you need me to tell jokes when you drill into a patient’s teeth. Like any good detective I bring the message to my female friends for analysis. One of them tells me, “She thinks you’re going to be famous. She wants to have you in her repertoire of friends.” The others say “She’s into you but she’s doesn’t want to say it outright.” Which one to believe. Only one way to find out. I make the call. “I’m coming back to Philadelphia in two weeks. I have to visit family but will be free for dinner.” She answers, “yes.” There is no family. Who cares. I’ve got a date.

THE ACTION:

I’m on a train back to Philly. Two weeks before this “meeting,” I put myself through the most rigorous exercise regime ever experienced by the human body. I run five miles a day, lift weights, and endure a macrobiotic diet. I also buy a $60 shirt at Kenneth Cole. I look at myself in the window reflection. ”I am a dating machine.”

Enter God. My train breaks down, and I lose two critical hours. I leave her a voicemail but the damage is done. “My uncle’s 60th birthday is running long.” (lame excuse) I call her when I reach. Big moment. No answer. I wait a half-hour and call again. NO ANSWER. I have just spent four hours traveling to hang out in some strange city by myself. I don’t know anybody. It’s Sunday so everything is closed. I’m walking down the street with forty-bucks in my wallet. I experience a self-realization moment that I’m living out a Billy Joel song.

THE MELTDOWN:

I end up at the Hard Rock Café. I order a banana split, a chocolate cookie dough pie, and a piece of chocolate cake. The waiter is disgusted by my order. I overeat and there is chocolate all over my face. My phone rings. “Hi, it’s me. I was waiting for you and fell asleep. Are you with your friends?” Let her have it. Dig into her. “They just left. Weeeeell... sure why not!” I suck.

THE DATE:

We go to Dave and Busters video arcade. I’m hoping for a miserable time so I never have to come back here. It’s turns out to be great. She laughs at all my stupid jokes, but most importantly she is an extremely fun person to be around. The whole time I’m thinking “How the hell did I pull this off?” We play a lot of video games and over the course of the evening we save 251 coupons, which you can redeem at the prize counter. (Just 100,000 coupons short from buying the digital TV.) We buy two miniature decks of cards, and she lets me win a game of Rummy.

THE AFTERMATH:

I call her once, telling her I had a good time, but she doesn’t call back. Not going to be the aggressor although I wonder what is going through her mind. Does she have a boyfriend? I look for her in Google, thinking that perhaps she too has a website, and a journal entry I can read.

THE LETTER:

I pick up the phone many times but do not have the courage to dial. I write a letter. I don’t have her address. I consider calling her, and reading it out loud on her voicemail.

Philadelphia Girl,

Sorry that it has come to this. Either you are completely swept by my charm, lost my #, e-mail and website address or maybe we didn’t hit it off. It’s ok. I had a great time, and hopefully we can continue to be friends.

Your pal,

Tarun

Please call/e-mail me if you need some jokes.

NETIP - Sept 15th - 2003

2011-09-24T03:48:00.001-07:00

NetIP

Monday, 15th September

This past month I performed in Philadelphia for a NetIp convention, standing for “Network of Indian Professionals.” It allowed me to take a much-needed break from New York. I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to life on the road, but I managed to take some notes and have attached weekend highlights below. Enjoy!

2:11 pm – Missed Amtrak train to Philadelphia. Walked around aimlessly in Penn Station train trying to kill time till the 3:11 train. Bought nachos and spilt cheese on myself. Extra shirts are at the bottom of my bag. Good job, Tarun. Great start. Really terrific.

4:30 pm – Arrived in Philly. Walked to Loews Hotel. (Lady at train station said it’s only four blocks. Four blocks or four neighborhoods?) Bs conversation with hotel concierge. “Hi, I’m the comic.” “No seriously, who are you.” “I’m the comic.” “Ha-ha. Very funny. Who are you?” “I’m a computer-engineer person who is here for a networking seminar.” “Ok. Your room is 4b, 17th floor.”

5:15 pm- Moment of truth. In a few hours I have to go downstairs and entertain a large group of strangers. Feel weird doing this outside a controlled environment of a comedy club. I reason that a comic lives in a comedy club similar to a penguin in Antarctica. Some penguins live in zoos where they are forced to adapt. This is my new mantra… “I am penguin… I am a penguin.”

6:00 pm- Hour till show time. Got burger at Hardrock Café. Strangely, this Hard Rock Café is a lot better than the one in New York. Perhaps there is some inverse equation to explain it all. The smaller the town, the better the Hard Rock Café. Note to self: check out Hard Rock Café in Crofton, Nebraska.

9:00 pm- Got off stage at 8:30. No complaints although the list of requirements I sent to NetIp director were not followed. E.g. No stage lights. Attempting to find better light, I jumped off stage and performed on the floor with the audience. I think the person in the front row thought I was moving in to attack her. That would be something. “You’re not laughing. Now I will strangle you with this microphone wire.” Would never do that, too many witnesses.

12:30 am - NetIp after party. A.K.A. ‘Hook up with a girl and pray for chemistry so you don’t have to get an arranged marriage’ party. Giving the pretty girl by the entrance a card is ok, but the bathroom attendant? Show restraint! My game is a bit rusty. Only shot is to hang out and wait to get recognized for my amazing stand-up comedy performance. A girl approaches “Hey, aren’t you….” Yes! YES! GO ON! “Aren’t you the guy that puked on the dance floor…” Sure, why not. “I am. I think I have one business card left… ”

5:05 am - Silence. I sit by the big board that has all the train times on it 'Amtrak 412 to Boston 5:15 am – ON TIME.' Unbelievably quiet. Reminds me of something I heard when I was a kid, ‘If a comic is stabbed and screams in a train station at 5 o’clock in the morning and no one is around to hear it, does he make a sound?” Two family members would be viewing my open casket: “He was so young.” “Yes, but look at that nacho cheese stain on his shirt. How hard is it to use a napkin?”

The Tarun Obituaries - Aug 11th - 2003

2011-09-24T03:47:00.001-07:00

The Tarun Obituaries

Monday, 11th August

We picked a bench in Washington Square Park. I held her close. The watermelon flavor Hubba-Bubba bubble gum still lingered in her mouth. “When’s you’re birthday?” she whispered.

“Next week.”
She pulls away. All is lost. ”You’re going to be 25! You’re OLD!”

That’s right loyal fans, next week is my birthday, and I’m going to be in my mid-twenties. Seriously, it sucks but life goes on. If anything it’s another year that simply reinforces the set path, which I embarked on six years ago.

Because I enjoy what I do, I think I’m insured a long happy life filled with merriment and bliss. But what if I did something else? Would the stress and anguish of doing something I hate have a debilitating effect? Would I take care of myself? Would I look the same? How would I act? No one knows for sure, but I’ve been thinking about it (for the past two hours anyway), and I think my obituaries would read something slightly different. You’ve been warned:

April 23, 2052 – Evening Citizen- Laconia, NH

Dr. Tarun Shetty M.D. died Saturday morning in St. Bethuen Hospital surrounded by friends and family. Dr. Shetty studied medicine at New York University and went on to take over his father’s ophthalmology practice in New Hampshire. He lived with his arranged-marriage wife and is survived by his son and daughter. (both currently in medical school)

March 14, 2014 - New York Times – New York, NY

Tarun Shetty died Friday night of a stroke last Friday night. Being one of the leading traders at Salmon Smith Barney for the past 13 years, Tarun lost all his hair at the age of twenty-four and had four heart attacks when he was twenty-seven. Living in a mansion in the Hamptons with his pregnant-white girlfriend, Tarun was known to frequent the local prostitutes, and spent lavish amounts of money to keep himself intoxicated to forget his life. He is survived by his dog, Mutual Fund.

June 10, 2009 - London Times – London, England

Tarun “Maddog” Shetty of the english rock n’ roll grunge band “Sex!” died Saturday night in a riot in Manchester, England. Unsure what to do with himself, the quiet American kid studied abroad in England to find himself where he met his future guitarist and bassist. Quitting school and touring in Europe, "Sex!" became the biggest overseas sensation with platinum hits, “I Want To Tie You Up,” and “Can we have a Threesome?” In and out of rehab for five years, Tarun was doped up on heroin when he showed up two hours late and told a crowd of 25,000 grunge fans to “Go f*ck themselves.” A mourning will be held at the Hard Rock Café this Sunday. He is survived by his step-son and divorced wife.

Sept 30, 2070 - Italy Today - Rome, Italy

Pope Tarun Shetty I died last Wednesday in his Vatican home as members of the catholic diocese looked on. Renouncing his religion when he was twenty-one, Tarun studied Catholicism at Long Island University and was ordained a minister at 27. Starting as a summer intern at the Vatican, Tarun rose through the ranks filling wine glasses, working as the main receptionist and eventually becoming Pope. Noted as one of the “Sexiest Men Alive” by People Magazine, Tarun committed to celibacy and prided himself as exemplifying inner goodness. He is survived his fellow clergymen and the stacks of Penthouse Magazines found under his bed.

Aug 14, 2058 - Los Angeles Times - Los Angeles CA

Comedian/Actor Tarun Shetty died last week in his Brentwood Home in Los Angeles California. A veteran of the stage and TV, Tarun committed his life to learning the craft of stand-up comedy. It wasn’t until his 25th birthday that he wrote and starred in the first of many blockbuster movies, “Would You Like A Slurpee?”, radically changing the stereotypical ways in which South Asians are viewed by mainstream society. His comedy specials were frequent, but he will always be remembered for his charity work that helped millions of underprivileged people lead better lives. He is survived by his wife and two children.

The Cavity - July 13 - 2003

2011-09-24T03:46:00.001-07:00

The Cavity

Sunday, 13th July

So I’m at home right now. I have taken a two-day vacation from stand-up to go to my dentist in Laconia, NH. Yes. I traveled 7 hours to go to a dentist. I know it sounds crazy, but I’m very finicky about who looks at my teeth. As a kid I battled many demons in school. There was the glasses I was diagnosed with in the second grade, the speech therapist in the third and a slew of other childhood problems, which I will take to my grave. However, the one thing I had better than everybody else was my teeth. It sounds silly, but it’s true. Maybe it was because of my parent’s rigid enforcement of brushing twice a day or maybe because I hate soft drinks, but I have been led to believe that my teeth are perfect. That is, until today.

I drove to my dentist’s office this morning for a 10:30 appointment. A small office with a couple assistants, a lady named “Lee” cleaned my teeth. As she dug into my mouth we talked about her kids, arraigned marriages, and I was even bold enough to challenge the motivational quotes poster taped to the ceiling. “Do not confuse wealth with success.” Does this mean homeless people are successful? I don’t think so.

Dr, Eckel, my dentist, entered the room and pulled his stool next to my chair. Nothing out of the ordinary. Dentists do this. Almost like a quick rundown to make sure the assistant didn’t s**** anything up. Something was wrong. I could see it in the hesitancy of the assistant’s face. A minute ago she was a talkative, cheerful lady who was telling me about her 26-year old daughter’s sex life, and now she was painfully stoic, nervously clutching her hands together. Dr. Eckel jabbed one of my back teeth with the pointed end of the scraper, “See how it sticks.”

“What sticks?” Honey sticks. Gum sticks. My teeth do not stick.

Then the words came out. “A little decay.”

Decay? For a moment, I thought that this was that awful MTV show where they play pranks on B-level celebrities. I sat up expecting Ashton Kushner to jump into the room with a camera crew and yell “You’ve been punked!” No, it was not the case. Dr. Eckel looked me in the eyes. “You have a cavity.”

If you’re still reading this, you may be asking yourself two questions. Why am I reading this, and what does this have to do with anything. Well, for starters this cavity was almost a gentle reminder that anything can come from anywhere and disrupt my life. Three years ago I was broke, shut out of the only comedy club which I worked in and contemplating an offer to join the JP Morgan trainee program. Today, I am back on feet, and am making a strong run almost soley as a stand-up comic. Next week I’m returning to my dentist to get the cavity fixed. I don’t know what exactly he’s going to do. My friend, Mike Tsirklin, said that whatever he does, it’s going to hurt. Needles, novocaine, drills. I hope it does hurt. Deep down I know it would hurt more if I didn’t do anything about it and gave up my dreams for a cubicle at JP Morgan.

Desi Pride June 27th 2003

2011-09-24T03:44:00.001-07:00

Desi Pride	Friday, 27th June
Just got back from New York Comedy Club. Had a great time. Didn't realize so many people were willing to see comedy at 7:00 in 95 degrees of heat. Thanks to everyone who came out to support. And big sorry to those who came and were turned away at the door. I promise I will make it up to each and everyone of you. ~ Best

One-Night Stand... Sort Of Monday, 16th June

2011-09-24T03:43:00.002-07:00

So I was at the big Joe Franklin’s show last Saturday night. Completely sold out. There’s a good vibe on Saturday night. If you haven’t gone yet, be sure to make reservations and check it out before the end of the summer. Anyways, I would like to address a question which I have been asked many times by my non-comic allies. Do comics get laid? Particularly, do comics get laid after shows with random audience members? I’m not sure what the fascination is with comics having sex. Perhaps it fulfills some sort of penthouse fantasy or maybe people are just curious about a comedian’s breeding habits. The answer to this is yes. Funny guys get laid. Funny girls get laid, but I don’t see it as much. I’m sure there’s a scientific formula to explain it. Guy gets lots of laughs in front of big audiences. Girl impressed. Guys hooks up with girl at bar. Guy takes her home for the night. Guy writes s***** joke the next day on why women put on chapstick before going to bed, etc.. etc…

The second question I often get is “Tarun, have you ever had a comedy one-night stand?” The answer is no. I have never had a one-night stand with a random audience member. Although I have had a few memorable experiences, and face incredible pressure from my peers to “close the deal” as if me having sex makes up for their lack of sexual inadequacy. I remember walking a 23-year-old girl home after a show, when her lunchbox (that’s right lunchbox, ‘Superman’ if I remember correctly) popped open and codeine pills fell onto the pavement. It was like watching a chipmunk scamper after nuts before the big snowstorm. I imagined the look on my parents face when I brought my new bride home and codeine pills spilled out of her knapsack and onto the kitchen floor. Or the time I gave my phone number to a girl after a show, and she called me obsessively, leaving messages on my answering instructing me how to build floor cabinets. We were not meant to be.

So yesterday was another night for the record books. Comedian Mike Tsirklin brought two friends from acting class to last night’s show. “Tarun, they want to meet you.” Great, great, great. Another comedy floozy to get drunk with and more mental demons telling me that this is completely wrong. I was quite surprised when I approached the bar and found one of the girls to be decent looking! Definite plus. Even more interesting, the girl was somewhat intelligent. Plus, plus! A sauntering comic stopped and whispered into my ear, “You had a good set. You can parlay it into a blowjob.” Thank-you, Shakespeare. I cleansed this thought from my mind and the night continued.

By the time we hit the first bar I realized this girl was a lot different than the other comedy groupies who I’ve gone out with. Firstly, I wasn’t thinking how do I get rid of her, which I usually think around the 2:00am. Secondly, I was striking out… hard. She made no attempt to start conversation, made no eye contact, and was frequently distracted by a homeless man outside the window. I picked it up a notch. We stood amidst an ocean of people, drinks in hand, standing our ground against the flowing traffic moving across the room. “I’m tired, ” she whined. Go, Tarun. Go. I wrestled my way to the end of the room, grabbed a chair from an overcrowded table, dragged it back, and set it in front of her. “You’re only 24?” She asked incredulously. “You look old!” It was going to be a rough night.

By the time we hit the second bar, I was making no headway with this girl, and was stuck listening to her sob story about her estrangement from her Pakistani family. I should have won an Oscar for my part as the “sensitive” guy. I put my hand on her lap and took in the moment. “I’m sorry to hear that.” I replied. She rolled her eyes. Damn!

At certain times in the night, if things aren’t going as planned, a guy has to revaluate the situation. Do I smell? No, I showered before the show. Do I have bad breath? No, a quick check proved that I was OK. Am I losing my charm? Not humanly possible. I sat at my wits end. It didn’t make any sense. It was nearly 4:00am. This is the part where I’m making up excuses to the girl explaining why I can’t go home with her. I looked at Mike in bewilderment. Mike asked, “Would you take Tarun home with you.” Both girls answered without flinch, “I don’t trust you.”

According to Websters dictionary:

Trust: Firm reliance on the integrity, ability, or character of a person or thing.

Integrity: Steadfast adherence to a strict moral or ethical code.

Ethics: A set of principles of right conduct.

It dawned on me that I have spent most of my life proudly conducting my everyday existence to a set high moral standards and was now willing to wash it away for a quick h****** in the bathroom.

“Mike, lets go.”

Around 5:30 am I sat in Hans 24-7 diner with Mike Tsirklin eating pancakes and recapping the night when Adam Hunter, fresh from his LA tour, joined us.

“How was the night?” he asked.

“Great.” I answered. “Sold out shows and we went out with two girls.”

“Worthwhile?”

I let it sit for a second and thought about it. “Yeah, I got out a new joke. The people liked it.” A definite worthwhile night of comedy.

Idols, Inspiration and More Nonsense - June 13th 2003

2011-09-24T03:43:00.000-07:00

If you ask a comic how he/she chose the career path that they did you’ll hear a lot of different answers. Most have this answer down pact and ready to go as if they’re rehearsing for their RollingStone interview: “So and so changed my life… blah, blah, blah… I was memorizing Bill Hicks routines when I was four… blah, blah, blah… I’m hilarious!” Others are like “I want to change the world,” and then when you see them live they rant about people who read over their shoulder or chewing gum. Really powerful stuff.

Well, I’m here to say that I never wanted to be a comic. Nope. Not me. When I was in junior high I obsessed about becoming a Saturday Night Live writer, and must have written a couple hundred really bad sketches, which I actually sent to NBC. Needless to say, I never got a response and was shocked that they didn’t a want a 12 year-old to serve as head writer. In fact, two years later I actually trekked to New York, camped in the NBC lobby for 8 hours, and met television writer Fred Wolf (I recognized him from my SNL fan book.) I think he thought I was a stalker, and he quickly escaped in the elevators.

That’s who I idolized, the writers: Warren Huthcherson, Adam Sandler, Dave Attell. All comedy writers who did stand-up. That’s the path I wanted to follow. Let’s focus on the first guy, Warren Hutcherson, for a sec. The only man I’ve ever seen do Def Jam with skilled performance and well-written jokes, has filmed an HBO’ ½ special, and is currently a much-respected TV writer in LA. Well in early April I met Warren Hutcherson. I didn’t feel comfortable writing about it when it happened, but since we’re all such good friends. This is my story.

It all began in Washington Square park when yours truly was on the way to the gym. As mentioned in previous entries, I wear a baseball cap, walk with my head down and listen to my cd player. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Warren Hutcherson strolling towards me. Those who have actually met a childhood hero will understand. I will elaborate for the rest of you. For starters, it’s weird. It is. To see someone transform from a figment of your imagination to a real person with a 3-dimensional shape, occupying space, matter and time is really freaky. “Nah, it couldn’t be.” I thought. After all, he wasn’t even dressed well, and doesn’t this guy live in LA? I kept on walking, but just in case… “Warren!”

I yelled out as loud as I could, which must have been much louder because I had rap music blasting out of my headphones. (See May 8th entry.) The man turns around. Jackpot. From that moment on, I was real conscious about my thoughts, and the words coming out of my mouth. I learned an important lesson from Fred Wolf. Don’t come across too strong or they might think you want to kill them. Still, I managed to get across that I was a fan, and we talked for a good ten minutes. Check this out. At the end of the conversation, the guy gives me his e-mail. It’s not huge but whatever. The fact that he thought I was worthy enough to have his e-mail made my day.

I got home that night and wrote him a thank-you letter for the advice and included a series of questions. This was going to be great. Me and Warren Hutcherson. Best buds. I remember having a pen pal in elementary school. It never amounted to anything but this was going to be different. I could feel it. This is what I wrote. Yeah, it’s a bit gushy but the guy was an idol of mine so cut me some slack.

Hi Warren,

It was great to meet you earlier today in Washington Square Park. I hope you found Bleecker Street. It's very inspiring for me to write/perform at another level whenever I hear your stuff. Funny, when you're in NY, I always find out the day after. (Luna Lounge/Boston Comedy.) I really thought I was delusional when I walked by you and must have seemed like a psycho shouting your name out like that.

Anyways, any words of advice you can pass along? Do you perform regularly in LA? What do you prefer: stand-up or tv writing? Sorry for the mess of questions. Your insight is much appreciated, and I've already told like five of my friends what a great guy Warren Hutcherson is.

Please keep me updated on your next NY visit. I'll definitely come out and support.

thxs again,

tarun

Pretty good, right? Wrong. The next day I checked my e-mail… nothing. “Ok. I just sent it, he’s probably in NY still. He probably doesn’t even have a computer with him, and God knows how slow those internet cafes are. I’ll just check it tomorrow.” So I checked it the next day… nothing. And the day after… nothing. And the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing. It was like a ritual. I think it got to the point where I expected nothing and would have been blown out of my seat if the guy actually did write to me. I also went through the denial phase. I double checked the address, and even yelled at my webmaster and blamed his server for not delivering my message. I have the man’s e-mail. He asked me for directions. How can he not respond?! Then I had a flashback to three years ago. The last man to give me his e-mail address and not respond was the exec producer of Spin City after I spent a full year changing the coffee filter and collating his stupid scripts. I was starting to believe that getting someone’s e-mail address was Hollywood code to get lost.

Let’s stop one more time just to clarify things. I wasn’t depressed. Seriously. I’m not trying to cover up my manhood, but as a comic, I’ve gone through the most insane things that sometimes I feel that my pain threshold is abnormal, and I’m desensitized to human emotion. But it did hurt. The part about telling my friends was true, and I was officially blown off. There was only one thing left to do.

I wrote the following letter May 8th. About three and a half weeks after our first encounter.

hi warren,

I’m the guy you met in the park in ny a while ago. I was having trouble with my server and may have missed your e-mail. Anyway, please keep me updated on any shows you do in the area. Will bring my friends to support.

--tarun

I clicked the send button and waited.

On May 14th at 12:25 pm, L.A. time, Warren Hutcherson wrote me back. It’s a bit private, and can’t disclose what he wrote, but he answered all my questions and gave me sound advice. He even apologized for not replying sooner, and explained that he was traveling, which makes sense, considering that he is a tv writer and summer is vacation time. Most importantly, he took the time to reply, when he easily could have chosen not to.

I think a lot sometimes about what I’m going to say to him when I outgrow New York, and have to move to LA. Honestly, I’m not sure, but there's no rush. I have his e-mail address.

Sopranos - May 28th - 2003

2011-09-24T03:42:00.001-07:00

Ok. Been super busy these past two weeks. I apologize to the weekly readers and promise more spontaneity with the entries. Quick shout out to all the people who came out to support in Jersey. Two great shows. Much love to the Desi crowd from Dallas.

So back in New York. Finally got an audition for the Sopranos. I was the "hotel manager" who argues with Carmela after she finds out that her son is smoking pot in one of the rooms. I almost walked out after the casting director told me to play up the "Indian thing" a little more. I've already walked out of five, why not six? The acting world is not pretty.

Also at Luna Lounge last Monday night. I was there from beginning to end! I haven't sat through an entire stand-up comedy show since 98'. I now understand why audience members walk out half-way through a show. A lot of horrible comics out there taking up space. Props to Barry Sobel, Marc Maron and Dom Irerra for saving the show and giving a comic much needed inspiration.

tarun!

E Train to Hell - May 8th - 2003

2011-09-24T03:41:00.001-07:00

E Train to Hell

Thursday, 8th May

“Give me your wallet.”
“Come and get it.”
The mugger lunges. Tarun side-steps allowing the mugger to clumsily fall against the pavement. Tarun pushes one of his accomplices into a pile of trash cans and punch another in the face. The attackers writhe in pain as our hero escapes into the night.

This is how I always envisioned myself to act if I were to ever encounter danger. Last Wednsday, I learned that fantasy is far from reality.

It happened around 1:00 am. I finished up a late night comedy set, got a bite to eat and was on the E train home. The E train. A hellish ride complete with a passed out drunks, sleeping homeless people and yes, yours truly.

For the record, let me just say that if there’s one thing I’m really good at it’s riding the subway. Using my cd player to reduce all mental awareness, I can go anywhere in the city and reach my destination with no recollection of the actual ride.

For this reason, around 42nd street, I was the last one to notice a gang of street kids filtering onto my subway car. I’m not exactly sure how many or how old they were. Looking back, I’m guessing high school seniors. They entered from both open doors and pushed into the crowded space. A boombox blared, fleeing passengers were doused with Coke, a Chinese man froze in his seat. The doors slid closed. I was trapped.

Now I’ve only lived in the city for a few years, but I know that the first rule of “street” is to never act scared. The Chinese man sitting across from me was clearly oblivious to this rule. He bolted for a nearby door, attempting a daring escape to the adjacent subway car. Bad decision. Four kids pushed him against the wall. They held him there while a fifth emptied a bag of Cheetos on his head before letting him go. A spongy, orange crumb fell on my lap. I flicked it off inconspicoulsy and continued my pretend game of listening to my CD player, which was now turned off.

I also made a decision not to look at the two kids flanking me, burning a hole into the sides of my face with their stares. Finally, one of them tapped my shoulder. I turned and faced my potential assailant. I studied his face. 17-year old African-american, red bandanna, front gold-tooth. (Yes, a gold-tooth. Clearly I’m out of touch with today’s trends.) Another one stood above me, looking down. 20-year old, spanish descent, long black hair, earrings, Avirex jacket. Not good.

“What are you listening to?” Goldtooth asked. My heart was beating fast. I looked him cooly in the eye, trying not to give any indication that my right hand was deep inside my pocket, fingers sliding up and down the metal surface of my CD player, searching for the "on" button.

“Wyclef.” I answered. I was quite proud of myself. I answered assertively as if it was an everyday occurance that I’m interrogated on a subway at 1:00 in the morning about my choice of music.

“Give it to me.” Ah, yes. The moment that I was waiting for. A moment that was the very beginning of my long-running fantasy to laugh in the face of danger and make my stand against crime. A moment that I played over and over again in my head when I was a fourteen-year old boy sitting on my bed in New Hampshire reading Spider-man comic books.

By the time I snapped back into reality my hands had already removed the earpieces and handed my cd player to its new owners. At least I got the CD player on. Track 10, “I’ll be gone till November.” I felt it would be much longer than that before I saw my Wyclef CD again.

It’s this very belief in racial profiling and condemnation of those that reject morals and ethical values different than mine, which has left me in a confused state of mind.

Goldtooth puts on the headphones and bobs his head for a few seconds. “Good stuff,” he comments. “I like Wyclef too.” He removes the headphones and gives me back my CD player. I REPEAT. HE GIVES ME BACK MY CD PLAYER, and then ignores my presence as if I’m not even there. Of all the insane moments in my life. I almost wish that he took my CD player just so I have empirical evidence that today’s youth are crime-oriented, and we should all be doomed by 2010. But no, he gave it back to me.

Whether it was the bond of rap music or he was simply inquiring what I was listening to, he made the decision not to take my CD player from me, and let me enjoy my ride in peace.

“Give me your wallet.”
“Come and get it.”
The mugger lunges at Tarun. Tarun side-steps, allowing him to clumsily fall against the pavement. Tarun pushes one of his accomplices into a pile of trash cans and punches another one in the face. Tarun thinks over what he has just done and extends my hand. He helps the man off the pavement, pulls the second out of the trash cans and offers his handkerchief to the one with the bloody nose.

“Sorry.”

“No, it's our fault. You wanna get some coffee?”

“Sure!”

The foursome stroll into the night and embark on a what turns out to be a long-lasting friendship.

The Cupcake - April 19th 2003

2011-09-24T03:40:00.001-07:00

The Cupcake

Saturday, 19th April

Ok. So I’ve been really slacking in my journal this past week. I’m doing a college next Saturday so I’ve been scraping around town at clubs trying to tighten up my act.

Last night was the grand opening of Joe Franklin’s Comedy Works. It’s a new club in the city (44th/8 Avenue). A separate comedy room in the back of Joe Franklin’s restaurant, run by my closest friends, and I was happy to be part of the sold-out show. Special guests in the lineup included Pat Cooper, Jackie “The Jokeman” Martling, and of course, yours truly.

Every comic had a hand in contributing to last night’s gala. My friends Adam Hunter bought the supplies, Dave Rubin built the stage, Mike Tsirklin made the sign. I really wanted to do something special. So what did I do? I bought cupcakes. Originally I wanted to buy a cake but getting an inscribed cake takes three to four business days, and I sought salvation at the famous Magnolia Bakery.

You would not believe how hard it is to get homemade cupcakes at this bakery. Firstly, you’re only allowed to buy 12 cupcakes at a time. If you want more you have to pre-order. (There’s apparently an over-saturation of cupcakes, and they don’t want to flood the market) Secondly, Magnolia cupcakes run about $1.75 each, so I’m looking at $26.25 worth up cupcakes. I bought fifteen assorted cupcakes and placed the order two days ahead of time.

Cut to two days later. I’m running late, sprinting down 8th Avenue with two boxes of cupcakes. I entered the room, out of breath, staring into the curious eyes of my fellow peers. Granted, it’s only 7:30 pm, and there are only twelve comics in the room. I opened box #1 and placed it on the center table. I guess it’s my own fault. I’ve always held these unreasonable high-expectations for myself and held my cupcakes in the same light. Almost like this deep-rooted fantasy where the frosting would spur a massive feeding frenzy of people diving across the room, clamoring for a taste.

Nobody touched a cupcake. They just rested in the open cardboard box with the lid popped open like some kind of open casket funeral. Fifteen minutes passed. I was thinking, “Maybe nobody saw the cupcakes.” I figured that it’s all right. After all, it was early evening. I rationalized that when the time is right, the people will eat.

Around 9:30 pm two hours had gone by and nobody had touched a cupcake. At this point in the show, the boxes had moved underneath a table where the comics sit in the restaurant area. I was scheduled to perform in ten minutes and my mind was in some type of cupcake quandary. Why isn’t anyone eating the cupcakes? “Do they think I did something to it? “Do they know it’s for everyone?” Here is actual dialog between me and a fellow comic:

“Tarun, are you ready to perform? We really need you to kill, there’s industry her --“

“Yeah sure, sure. Cupcake?”

“I’m all right. Look, we need you –“

“Fine, whatever. I need to be alone.”

It really was bothering me. I picked up the box, neatly re-arraigned the cupcakes in straight lines and floated around the restaurant. Originally, the cupcakes were just for the comics but now it was fair game. Customers, waiters, anyone who wants a cupcake could have one. I walked up to Billy and Al, the head managers at Joe Franklins. Cupcake? I could see the apprehension.

My heart was beating so fast I swear I thought they could hear it. The inner monologue in my head was screaming. “Take it! Take a cupcake!”

Billy was first; he took a bite of the chocolate. A smile stretched across his face and he gave a thumbs up. Al was next and thanked me for my kindness.

Slowly but steadily more people gravitated towards the delicatessens with open hands. Comics, friends, I felt like a savior who just liberated a small town and was distributing parcels of food to hungry villagers. “Take one my child.” Cupcakes, cupcakes for everyone.

My set was good that night. I was satisfied with my performance, and I was once again more than willing to entertain a room full of tourists who had no clue who I was. After the audience filtered out of the room, I sat at a table with my friends. A lone cupcake sat in the box. The wrapper was half-off as if someone started to eat it but had a pang of guilt and dropped it back in the box on its side. A slab of frosting was removed but otherwise it was all right. I wrapped the cupcake in a napkin and stuffed it into my pocket.

As I write this, the cupcake sits in my refrigerator. I don’t know why I brought it home. I don’t think I’m going to eat it. But as a comic, I feel that the hardships and sometimes-solitary lifestyle, I can relate to the cupcake left in the empty box in many ways.

I'll throw it away when I'm ready. After all, it's just a cupcake.

New Hampshire - April 8th - 2003

2011-09-24T03:39:00.001-07:00

New Hampshire

Tuesday, 8th April

This past weekend I performed at a college and headed north to where I grew up, New Hampshire. Yaay! Yep, New Hampshire. I find it disconcerting that I spent 18 years of my life there and still pretty much know nothing about my home state. Anyways, I had a bit of free time so I jotted down a few journal entries for your reading pleasure. Enjoy!

Friday, 6:00 p.m.

Just boarded the bus. Greyhound. I hate this bus. Greyhound is like some kind of present-day Mayflower. Stuff eighty people onto a bus and see which ones live. I think two hours have passed but uncertain. Not sure if I’m falling asleep or if I’m slipping into sporadic comas. Not fun.

Saturday, 10:00 am.

Ok. I reached last night at 2:00am. Good to be back home. Nothing has changed. The pillows on my bed are exactly how I left them three months ago. I think my parents have gotten a little older though. I’m a lousy son for coming home once every blue moon. Thank God my little brother is going to college two hours away. Helps alleviate some guilt. I’m not doing jack today. I don’t even want to touch my notebooks. Did I mention that I have no TV in New York? So weird to have this thing in the house. We’re at war, and I’ve never even seen any of it. I watched it for like five minutes and changed the channel to “Are You Hot” on ABC. The blond-haired chick on that show is definitely hot.

Sunday 3:00pm.

This weekend has been good but incredibly short. Yesterday was pretty good. I’m trying to relax and refresh myself for more battles in New York. I watched the 8 Mile DVD. Eminem is really good at playing himself. I’m sure he’ll have a great film career playing white rappers who rap-battle amongst inner-city minorities. Also went out to Chinese food with my parents and younger brother. My fortune said “Death is not far away.” That’s inspiring. Are these things supposed to be hand-written? I want to freeze time and stay another three weeks. And I lost an hour thanks to day-light savings. Greeaaaaat…

Sunday 12:31 am

I’m about to board another Greyhound bus at Boston’s South Station. Does Greyhound have some kind of monopoly over s***** buses? These two guys behind me almost got into a fight, and I think the old lady in front of me thinks I’m trying to cut her. As soon as I get on the bus, I’m going to get a single seat, put all my luggage on the seat next to it and pretend I’m asleep. Ha-ha-ha… s**** you Greyhound.

Dear Mr. Heckler - March 30th 2003

2011-09-24T03:18:00.001-07:00

I’d like to use this week’s entry to address an incident that occurred last week. I was heckled on Thursday night. Gasp! (the sound of comedy fans across the globe in utter disbelief that someone could take a cheap shot at yours truly) For the most part, I don’t care much for hecklers. They are mostly pathetic individuals who work unbelievably horrible day jobs, and think that being part of the show for fifteen seconds can make up for a lifetime of wrong decisions.

However, this heckler was different. After being promptly ejected, he accosted me at my table to continue his senseless diatribe. I didn’t say much. For the most part, I let him ramble and counted how many times he used the words “suck.” (Twenty-three) I would like to use the remaining part of this entry to address this man. Though I don’t know his name, and he is probably incarcerated by now, this letter is for you.

Dear Mr. Heckler,

Do you remember who I am? You visited a comedy club last Thursday night and you were kicked out after the third act. Do you remember this? You were amazingly drunk and everyone thought you were an a******. (It just occurred to me that this is probably not a new development for you so I will continue.) After being kicked out, you ambled at the bar outside, wondering why the comics were ignoring you from across the room. Anyways, I just wanted to thank-you. Really, I do. I realize you must not get this a lot working at the mass-transit station, but I suddenly remembered how great my life is compared to the abysmal hopelessness that you must encounter everyday of your existence. Anyone who turns 40-person crowds against them and makes me seem like a noble hero is worthy of my gratitude. Thank-you, Mr. Heckler. I will dedicate my life to helping others and enjoy life’s rewards while you change tokens for dollar bills.

Your friend,

Tarun

Starbucks - March 24th 2003

2011-09-24T03:17:00.000-07:00

Starbucks

Monday, 24th March

Ok. I like Starbucks. It’s true. After years of indifference, I’ve finally decided that Starbucks is ok. I’ve been somewhat ambivalent about this for most of my life, but I think starting today, I will go public with my decision and there’s no turning back.

Honestly, I’m confused where this deep-rooted embarrassment stems from. Perhaps because everybody I respect is so against this multi-billion dollar conglomerate. My friends, all the mom and pop coffee stores, coffee drinkers, even the people who work at Starbucks probably hate it.

So what has brought me to this conclusion and impelled me to write about it? Well, it all began a few days ago around 11:30 pm. I had just wrapped up a show, and my friends and I were looking for a place to hang out at. Some moron actually came up with the phrase, “NY, THE CITY THAT NEVER SLEEPS,” and it’s now worked its way into colloquial English. Well it’s not true. Yeah, I said it, and I’ll debate anyone within good reason via long-distance e-mail who has conflicting views. So many times I have found myself ambling down Broadway looking for a comfortable after-hours spot. (Remember, this is 11:30 pm at night, which is more like 12:00 noon comedy time if you’ve adjusted yourself to early morning comedy sets.) I swear to the thousands of weekly journal readers, we couldn’t find one place. I know what you’re thinking: Tarun, what about 24-7 deli’s, bars, Mcdonalds! Surely, you didn’t forget one of the greatest institutions of present-day America! I said “comfortable.” Deli’s suck, bars are smokey and Mcdonalds gets thugged out after 9. If I’m going to relax, I’m going to do it without having to worry about a shooting breaking out and a bullet lodged in the back of my head.

Enter Starbucks on 50th street/Broadway. Mood lighting, greatest hits from the early 90’s playing in the backdrop, couches. Granted, the place was a karaoke machine away from unbearable, but I was at ease. I don’t know. Maybe it was the southern accent of the girls from North Carolina standing in line with me. Maybe it was the relief of giving in to corporate branding after so many years of fighting. Or maybe I was just happy, knowing that I was a few minutes away from peaceful self-reflection. “You want something?” The Jamaican guy growled from behind the counter.

“White chocolate cappuccino, small.” As he turned around, I happily slipped a nickel into his tip jar, no regrets.

Jesus Loves You - March 19th 2003

2011-09-24T03:15:00.001-07:00

Jesus Loves You

Wednesday, 19th March

All right. First entry. I'll be honest. I'm a bit scared to write in this because my webmaster said I can't erase anything so if I write anything, it's up for good. They also said that they've never tested this diary thing. Which means that the words that I type could come out all jumbled on the website and make this writing spurt a big waste of time.

With that said, I was on my way to do a set when my friend and I were stopped in the middle of Times Square by a lady and these two 15 year-old girls from South Carolina. They were giving out flyers that read "You're Special" and "Jesus Loves You." Ok. Firstly, let me just say that I have nothing against Jesus. I'm not Catholic, but I'm sure Jesus loves me and whatever. So my friend, who is a comic and can get very political on stage, rips into the adult. I don't know. He was saying something about how children should be allowed to be children. And that she was abusing the children by forcing them to pass out pamphlets because no one would ever take a flyer from a 40 year-old dude. The girls were really uncomfortable and even the lady who loves Jesus and spreads goodwill and cheer looked like she was going to rip his head off. I think I was more intrigued that yeah, we can yell at you on the street and make you feel bad, but if you come into a comedy club and have to pay $8 and a drink minimum, everything my friend was saying would suddenly be hysterical! Ah, the magic of stand-up comedy.