I have been putting this column off for the past two weeks, waiting for the inspiration to hit me in the right spot. In the past month, I've experienced enough to warrant a funny story, but still, I cannot figure out what to write about.

I spent some time (and toll money) in New Jersey and New York City, was told to “Get the fu— off the stage” by a comedy club patron before I even started my act, cruised around in a cop car in Manhattan at one in the morning looking for a stolen van my cousin Nate had rented, and still, while remarkably buzzed, had a better eye than the cops and Nate combined. So, yes, I could be NYPD Shaner.

I went and visited Ground Zero, and spent time in the area soaking up the vibe, I drank in Greenwich Village, and slept on an air mattress in what had to be the most disgusting apartment I've ever been in.

I went and saw a kickass concert in Times Square, watched a girl vomit on the subway, and told a manager at a Roy Rogers to Go fu—themselves.

So why, no witty, punch filled wacky Shanerisms, you ask? Well, I dunno. I wrote an article loosely based on a part of my stand up act that I've been working on, but I can't even look at it. I hate it. I'm happier writing this, sans the silly punches, than doing what I've always done.

The only thing I understand is that life as a comic is far different than any life I've ever led. Writing is the act in which I put everything I experience into 500-700 words for people to laugh at. As a comic, you get instant gratification. An audience member laughs at what you say immediately, and if you're lucky, remembers a portion of your joke, and carries it with them. But with writing or recorded music, it is etched in stone, to be read on paper and my website for years to come. You never know who or how many are reading or listening, so you better be proud of it. I simply will not print something I don't feel is my best. I'm far too proud and too much of a perfectionist to allow that.

Whatever it is that you, the reader, do with your life is your stamp and signature. Whether you're an artist or a dishwasher, be proud of what you do, and don't accept anything but the best. You become recognized and respected for your craft, and you stand taller knowing that you are good at what you do.

Of all the columns I've done, there are none that I don't like. Granted there are a few that stand out as better than others, but I've never released anything that I thought was second best.

Many of you readers have an impression that I'm a hapless twenty-something barfly looking for cheap laugh, and rightly so. I've established that as my 'voice' and I've been happy with that. The truth is, I'm always writing jokes or columns, striving to be my best. It just so happens that I like to party too. It's par for the course in the comedy world, and It also just so happens that I love the word “hapless.”

I also love feedback, hearing what you have to say about my column. So, if you see me at a show, tell me what you think, or send me an email through my website, www.shanekinney.com. I'm not as unapproachable as I make myself out to be, and I don't know that you're reading it if you don't tell me. If you have a Corona or a sandwich, then I'll really love you. A heartfelt thanks to everyone who reads and appreciates this column, I promise I'll be back next month to make you chuckle.

Shane apologizes for being so selfishly introspective when you want to laugh, but promises that next month will be more of the sophomoric rants for which he's tried and true.