My Heckler

Happy 2012 everyone!

Soon enough, I knew it would happen. When you upload public videos for everyone to see, you'll eventually get that one loser who trolls the Internet for said videos so they can trash the people in them and make asinine comments.

So this blog is about hecklers and my thoughts on them, including how to handle them.

Comedians and celebrities deal with hecklers and naysayers constantly.  You know the type.  The loser who is probably in their 30s or 40s, is unemployed, lives in mommy and daddy's basement playing World of War Craft all day, and trolling the Internet trying to make fun of other people because they aren't happy with who they are.

My heckler goes by the handle MikeDitka100 and posted several nasty comments about my videos and me personally.  Words can hurt, but you've got to get over it.  If you don't like the YouTube channel, change it, bitch.  I'm looking at you MikeDitka100.

Hecklers are an interesting breed.  My guy decided to post several comments and click "dislike" on many videos, presumably around midnight so that I would see them Christmas Eve morning.  But thankfully I saw them as they were posted, so it didn't upset me too much once I got over the initial shock.

Hecklers aim for below the belt, personal attacks on you because they're not happy with their own lives.  I am happy with my life.  I have a great family, friends, a house, and a job.  Pretty much the American Dream, right?

So I wonder about MikeDitka100.  Does he fit the stereotypical characteristics of what I described regarding cyber hecklers, or is he someone who was not loved as a child, like Voldemort?

I was at a comedy show in Atlantic City recently where there was this one heckler whose last name was McGedigan who would not leave this one comic alone.  The comic employed techniques in response that left this kid, who was celebrating his bachelor party, almost in tears.  It was great to see him get his comeuppance and be embarrassed in front of the whole crowd, as in the clip above.

There's no need to personally attack the heckler; just attack their logic.  When they're calling you names like asshole or bitch, they're just resorting to the negative to try to tear you down. Ask them: and so what if I am wearing an Eagles shirt with cats in the background in a house?  To me that says I am successful and have pets and a house.

You've gotta have thick skin and realize that these people (admit it, we all encounter hecklers in our everyday lives) have no life and are basically using the only comeback they know because they are stupid losers: "Are too, nanny nanny boo boo!"  It's funny to see how pathetic they are.

So I guess don't let anyone tear you down.  You know how awesome you are and how awesome other people think you are.  That's all that matters. MikeDitka100 went away like the Internet troll he is but it's crazy what people will do for attention. Imagine, I actually took the time to write about it.

Have a great New Year's and I hope 2012 is a better year for everyone!

A Case of Mistaken Identity

This post tells the story of New Year's Eve 2007. The only people currently aware of what actually happened are my grandmother, my aunt, my cousin, and my brother whom I told only last year. For those of you reading, this is not a pity me entry but I came across my old journals and found the entries. This is what actually happened and I am only writing about it now to gain some closure. The following did occur.


Picture it. Worcester, MA. I was driving on an eight hour trek to the apartment I lived in near Becker College. It was snowing, and I was running very behind schedule. I returned to my apartment, the second floor of a triplex behind Ernie's pizza on West street, near Elm Park.
I had gotten back later than I thought, around 8:30 pm.

My plan? Unpack, feed Oreo and Battlecat (my two feline traveling companions), and maybe drive another hour east to my friend Ryan's house in North Reading for a party he was throwing in honor of the new year. After unpacking and feeding the cats, I felt tired and called to leave Ryan a message that I was not going. I did not think much of it.



I had some beer in the refrigerator, and a bottle of champagne in case I decided to go to Ryan's. However, now that I was not going I decided to shower, eat a snack, have a few beers and watch TV. I called Ryan around 9 and it was now 9:30. I had not heard back so assumed he got my message and was OK with me not going.



I opened a beer around 9:45 and after a few sips, the buzzer to my apartment began ringing nonstop for five minutes. I had no friends in the area and think the people above and below me were gone for the holidays or out at the bahs. My roommate was in New York City with his family. I ignored it, at first, but it kept ringing.



I looked outside from my upstairs window and went downstairs. There were three people who were banging on the door asking if Sean lived here. I said I didn't know and they said they had something very important to tell him. So I opened the door and said "I think he lives on three." They thanked me and I went up the stairs, with them behind me.



As I went to open my door on the second floor thinking they would go upstairs, all three followed me into my apartment and kind of pushed me inside. They closed the door. My heart was racing as they confronted me and demanded to know where Sean was. I told them I had no idea, and that I lived here with my roommate and two cats. The lone female obviously noticed how scared I looked and told me it would be OK. I just had to tell them where Sean was.

As I was about to repeat my story she interrupted me and said "I'm feeling a little full right now. Do you mind if I "blast" in your bathroom?" I thought she was either going to throw up or go to the bathroom so I said OK. She walked inside, did not close the door, and whipped out a pipe and tossed a crack rock in. She began smoking and offered me some. I refused. Then the two other men who were with her and were looking in my room and my roommate's room came back and finished it with her.


The African-American guy then came up to me and asked again where Sean was. I told him I didn't know. I repeated my story, and stood my ground. He asked me if I thought I was being funny saying I didn't know where Sean was and that my roommate worked for a bank in Worcester and I was back from Christmas vacation. As the female was asking me more questions about why I was so nervous I was trying to watch the other two in the bedrooms as I thought they were going to rob me. They had gone into the kitchen at this point. They were looking in the cabinets, on my deck outside and in my refrigerator.

I repeated my story to the female as the other two came back to the little foyer from which the bedrooms and kitchen were semi-visible. I said i thought this Sean might live upstairs and I carefully moved myself near the door into my apartment. I opened it and repeated my story and pointed to the third floor apartment where I thought this person could have been. I was almost paralyzed by fear. My phone was in my pocket but I wanted to make no sudden moves. They all appeared agitated, and were most likely high on something.



The girl in the group told them I was probably right and that Sean was upstairs. I had no idea how long this interaction had gone on. The minutes felt like hours. They could have been there ten minutes, a half hour. I have no idea as I had no way to see a clock. But all I know is, for whatever reason, they agreed and looked like they were about to leave. As the tall, African-American was walking out the door Oreo (I have no idea what the cats were doing during this ordeal) darted out after him up the stairs.



Here's the dilemma: I wanted my cat but did not want to get hurt. I was about to close the door and worry about it later when the big dude reached out his long arm with a massive mitt at the end, and scooped her up. He turned to me and said with an eerie smile "this little n***a tried to get out. I grabbed Oreo back, said thanks without thinking, and slammed the door.



As I was reaching for my phone to call...who? My parents 600 miles away? My friends partying in North Reading probably annoyed that I had backed out of going to their party? As I was pondering this I heard the three people come back down the stairs. They began pounding on my door telling me to open up. I had to know where Sean was. Bang bang bang went my door. I was naive in opening the main door to the triplex initially. But after they saw how scared I was did they really think I was going to open up again? I might be stupid, but not that much. They went downstairs and outside but soon came back again, buzzing my apartment saying "We know you're in there."



After that I just stood by the door which I had now dead bolted, and my head was swimming. My heart was racing and I felt sick to my stomach. I didn't know what to do so I called my roommate in NYC. He was buzzing already (his words) and told me to call the police. I asked him another question and he said hold on, and shouted something to others in the room where he was, and basically said he hoped I was OK and he had to go.



So who to call next...my parents? Who I'm pretty sure would ask why I opened the door in the first place? My friends partying in North Reading who were probably pissed that I didn't come to their party? So I called the police. Waste of time.

So since I thought Ryan was mad at me, I called another friend who I knew would be at the party. He picked up, asked where I was, and I told him what happened. It was now around 11:15 and it was clear he did not believe me.



I asked him to get Ryan or anyone else, and he told me that he was disappointed I didn't go to the party. Speech was slurred like I wish mine was, as it was New Year's. I told him what just happened again, and he laughed and said he had to call me back. He did not. I called him again and he did not pick up. I thought I would try Ryan's house phone which went unanswered. It was a party. I doubt anyone heard it. So I stopped calling people.



The bottom line is that it was the worst New Year's Eve I ever spent and I spent it alone. I was exhausted from driving and should have gone to Ryan's, been a man, and sucked up the extra hour more to see friends and have a good time. Instead of the party, after this incident, I put on the TV, watched the ball drop, drank my beers, and my champagne. I put on my iPod loudly to block out any noise, wondering, until I was too drunk to care later in the evening, if those people would come back looking for Sean.