When dealing in crazy, beggars can't be choosers.

I just got back from Chico, Modesto, and Albuquerque and I'm finishing up my tour this week in St. Louis. A cool thing started happening on this tour. People are starting to come to my shows on purpose. As a comedian, you mostly perform for drunks, bacholorette parties and passers-by and you hope that at some point people will show up who actually like your type of humor.

But I've noticed that the people who tend to like my type of humor are CRAZY. And maybe it's because I talk on stage about how my girlfriends all end up being crazy. "Everything seems cool, and then two months in she'll be like 'Maybe this weekend we could 'I'M CRAZY!!', and then she's blows away like a tumbleweed. And I'm like "Come back! I'm crazy too."

But on this tour I've seen some new breeds of crazy.

For example, some people have gone on my Myspace page and posted photos of themselves dressed as panda bears, beer bottles, and Mexican wrestlers placing my Two Drink Mike CD in various locations. Which is just fine. As a matter of fact, I'm thrilled about it, except I don't have any jokes about Mexican wrestlers. So perhaps that person actually is a Mexican wrestler. Perhaps he enjoys Mexican wrestling. Or perhaps that person is CRAZY.

The other thing people have been doing is making homemade tee shirts that acknowledge my jokes and/or their own boobs. This occurred in Albuquerque this week with two girls named Emily and Gretchen. Emily and Gretchen, as it turns out, are gorgeous women who had shirts embroidered that have my last name on them. And maybe they're huge fans. Maybe they sense a deep connection with my jokes about polar bears, cinnamon toast crunch and sleepwalking. Or maybe…they're CRAZY.

And then finally, I've noticed that people at my shows are rowdier than ever. And, as a comedian, that's not always a good thing. Last month I was in St. Louis and I was getting heckled by this drunk loud guy. He kept going "Hey Mike- you got a girlfriend?" And I'd be like "Well, drunk loud guy, yes I do. But could you stop shouting stuff at random because I have to talk to all of these other people too, not just engage the drunk one-on-one conversation you're having with me in your drunk brain." But he wouldn't shut up for the whole show. And the people around him are telling him to shut up. And by the end of the show, it just becomes so juvenile that I go so far as to call the guy a douche bag. And he has the saddest, most misunderstood drunk red face and he goes, "I'm crazy. Crazy girlfriend!" And I realize that the guy has simply been requesting the "I'm crazy" joke all along.

As it turns out, my fans are so crazy that they seem like they're heckling me even when they're trying to be supportive. So I ask you, Dear Journal, why must my fans be so crazy and incoherent? And I think the answer is that for every Mexican wrestler and drunk red-faced incoherent fool, there's a gorgeous busty girl with a shirt that says your name on it, even if that shirt is a not-so-subtle advertisement for her own boobs.

When dealing in crazy, beggars can't be choosers.

That concludes this week's entry in my secret public journal.