Green Day digs One Kolor Designs...

Recently spotted in downtown Austin, Green Day popped into Parts and Labour for some shopping and purchased one of my homegrown t-shirts, Unissection.

How cool is that? Tre Cool!

I'd add more exclamation points, but I don't want to seem sycophantic.

Maybe he'll wear it. Maybe he'll wad it up in a ball and dampen his bass drum with it. Either way, I'm flattered as f**k.

Curiosity killed the Catholic

So a priest and a deacon walk into a comedy club...

There's no punchline, that actually happened. I had just finished a show at the Funny Bone in Columbus, Ohio and a paunchy gentleman in his 50's was chatting me up. I don't know how we got on the topic of religion, but I made the mistake of telling him that I'm agnostic.

(For those too lazy to click on the link, it just means that when it comes to the 'how and why' we exist, I have the courage to say, I don't know, and I don't care.)

The guy wasn't a jerk or dogmatic, and the conversation ended with him complimenting my act, then disappearing into the mall.

Not five minutes later, he returned with a priest and a deacon dressed in full regalia, each toting a doggie bag from a nearby Italian restaurant. Apparently, the dude from the show summoned them like two off-the-clock super heroes to come save the clown from eternal damnation.

I liked the deacon right away. He had a friendly face covered with near-hipster whiskers and was sharp and witty. The priest was a bit smug for my taste, and both were in their mid-20's.

Like most good Christians--and they do exist--I don't wear my beliefs on my sleeve. If I believe in anything, it's common courtesy, and I generally don't voice my distaste for religion out of consideration.

Unless I'm provoked.

This particular evening, I felt like a zoo animal getting prodded, jabbed and gawked at by three slack-jawed deists.

"You grew up with Catholicism? What went wrong?"

I told them I was a bad Catholic...I asked questions.

"Don't you have faith?"

Yes I do. I have faith in my lack of faith in man. Man can manipulate and con the masses. There are sheepish people and shepherds with soap boxes. Hell, it continues today, and we're supposed to be smarter than witch-burners! Want proof? Google "FOX News viewership."

And peddling the idea of blind faith is the scam of a lifetime.

I began to question everything when I was 12. I was on the porch with my best friend, star-gazing, and I said aloud, "You know the only reason we believe in God is 'cos our parents told us to?" That was the beginning of the end. I spent the next several years looking for answers that no one had. Even a priest said, "You're just supposed to believe."

Nice, huh?

Then I felt guilty for not believing. Then I got over it. I came to the conclusion that I don't need religion to be a good person.

In essence, curiosity killed the Catholic. And thank Christ for that.


You could poke fun at my disbelief until the flying pigs come home, you'll only strengthen my grip on reality. But it rarely works in the opposite direction. Most people get offended if you rag on their religion, even if said ragging is civil discourse.

In my opinion, "getting offended" is just insecurity with a fake nose and mustache.

So I remain Agnostic and sure of it. It's not cowardly, it's honest. And for those who say things like, "get off the fence," I always reply with tongue buried in cheek: "I like it up puts me above the rest of you."


Oh yeah, so back to the three wise men...each shook my hand and took their leave. It was a lively discussion, and my pleasant nihilism remains intact. The deacon gave me a genuine smile, but Father Superior's good-bye reeked to high heaven of judgment.

At that moment, I bet he was thinking the same thing I was thinking: God help this poor soul.

Okay, sermon over. Go now, in peace.

spiritual hugs and hickeys,

Class, today we'll be dissecting unicorns...

Click to enlarge. Order one here.

Unicorns have magically saturated the t-shirt market, and while I sprained my ankle making a jump for the bandwagon, I couldn't resist the idea of a butcher chart for these magnificent beasts.

And if you plan on attending Burning Man this year, you might want to buy a few of these to trade for a sandwich bag full of 'shrooms...

Click to enlarge. Order one here.
Finally, here's a tongue-in-cheek (rather, finger-in-throat) way to say no to bulimia...

Click to enlarge. Order one here.

More new designs to come! Just keep clicking back to OneKolor every now and again.

hugs and mythical hickeys,

OK, Stupid...

I raised the camera to accentuate my jawline and conceal my lower body. Hawt! Woo!
So I posted a fake OK Cupid profile to poke fun at everyone's impossible standards...funny thing is, I've gotten more messages than ever. Go figure.
You can take a peek here.
It's extra funny-cos-it's-true if you're an actual member on the site, but you'll get the idea.
I've said it once, I'll say it a bazillion times...internet dating is NOT for average-looking guys like me. Seems I'm too straight-laced for the quirky gals and too quirky for the straight-laced.
Fickle bitches.
Anyhoo, enjoy!

Comedy Condo Treasures...

Who needs cable? Our video library has everything from crap to shit.

Filed in order of testosterone. Not pictured: The Firm and K2: The Ultimate High.

Or perhaps you're more of a reader...

All I have to say is, the book is nothing like the movie...
...60 pages in and still no arm wrestling.

Just lots of "womanly heat."


What's the deal with erotic novels? Here is the deal with erotic novels:
  • I was a proofreader for an erotic novel publisher...we didn't have cubicles, we had stalls.
  • I read one to my girlfriend, and she got wet...'cos I spit when I talk. 
  • What's that spot, you ask? Let's call it a bookmark.
  • Hey smug parents, my "kids" started reading at a reeeeally young age.
  • I skip over the boring pages so I can get to the money-sentence.
  • Does that Kindle come with a squeegie?
  • Best. Book club. Ever.

See you next year, Little Rock. Maybe.


*Laughing my boner off


    Patrick Swayze was right.

    Like most comedians, I'm a recovering addict. My drug of choice? CFC. Common f**king courtesy. And pot. But mostly, good manners.

    My biggest mission when I leave the house is to not bother anyone. My biggest mistake is expecting the same from other people.

    And as a friend in AA* once told me: "An expectation is a resentment in the waiting."

    I wonder if a support group exists for the overly-polite. Enable me for a moment...

    Hello everyone, my name is Mario and...I'm a nice guy.

    It's been 7 days since my last act of kindness. I hit bottom, too...I was holding doors open for strangers, using my blinkers in traffic and, at my lowest point, I found myself in bed with a woman and I...I let her finish first. I know, how cliche...nice guy finishing last.

    I should've seen it coming, too. Growing up, my dad was warm and generous. Mom was loving and thoughtful. All the warning signs were there, man.

    But I'm proud to announce that for the past week I've been leaving my cell phone ringer on at funerals; reading lots of Maxim magazine; putting the toilet lid down...before I pee; when I see a woman standing, I offer her my lap...

    And the last time I held the door open for someone, I tripped them in the process.

    So where's my chip? I wanna put it on my shoulder.


    What truly sucks about being a pleasant fellow is how people see it as a weakness. Girls, especially.

    Part of the phrase, "nice guy" is "guy." We still have the same urges, we're just not all Dane Cook-y about it.

    Once, I overheard a woman bellowing how "All men are scum." To which her friend replied, "What about so-and-so? He's a nice guy." Without hesitation, the other snorted: "Pfft. Nice guys are boring."

    Hang on, now, Acrylic Nails...all men are scum, but nice guys are boring??

    This is like walking into a flower shop, only touching the cactus, then complaining how all plants are pointy assholes.

    Look around you! There are ferns! Succulents! Super Happy Lucky bamboo! Nothing flashy, perhaps, but reliable and low-maintenance. Take one home and talk nice to it.


    Because I am a decent human being off stage, I tend to be a bit of a prick on stage, and on the page. It's fantasy therapy. Man's gotta vent, yo.

    But I think I've found my new mantra to echo, courtesy of one James Dalton in Road House: "Be nice. Until it's time to not be nice."

    Ditto, sir. Ditto.

    Like a welcome mat over a trap door.

    So take heed, time you're sending a text at a red light and ignore my warning honk when it turns green, I'm gonna have to rip your throat out with my bare hands.


    *The insecure mofo in me needs to clear up that I am not an actual recovering addict, and I sincerely hope no members of AA think ill of the references.

    A Brief Chat with Mario...

    By Brian Gaar | Thursday, May 12, 2011, 12:22 PM
    [Original link to article]

    As the final round of the “Funniest Person In Austin” contest draws near, it’s worth remembering that, in years past, some comics have come out of nowhere and won the whole thing.
    One of those was Mario DiGiorgio, who won the 1999 FPIA title just eight months after his first open mic. From there, DiGiorgio has become one of the mainstays of the Austin scene, having performed on Comedy Central and the Montreal Just For Laughs Comedy Festival.

    But DiGiorgio, whose background was initially in advertising, has diversified himself - he designs t-shirts, logos and recently wrote a book, “A Cynic’s Guide to a Rich and Full Life.”

    DiGiorgio is headlining the Velveeta Room this weekend and we chatted about the FPIA contest and whether or not he’s really a cynic...

    Your background was in advertising, how did you get into comedy?

    It’s not a giant leap from advertising to stand-up. I was writing pithy slogans and brief copy — often with tongue in cheek — and that’s pretty much all I do now. The only difference is, now I’m selling me. And I’m a terrible salesman. But I believe in the product. As soon as they get the bugs worked out.

    Did you really win FPIA eight months after starting standup?

    Yessir. However, I was NOT the funniest person in Austin that year. I happened to have the best set with that crowd in front of those judges on that evening with those jokes. But that won’t fit on a t-shirt. It was good to get it over with right away, though. I see the stress it’s caused my fellow comedians.

    You’re one of the most respected voices on the Austin scene, has the scene here changed over the years? Why is this such a good town to start doing comedy?

    I see it getting stronger with each passing year. I think because it’s so easy to live in Austin, it’s an attractive place to develop. We have a glut of smart, creative comedians — both new and established — and the best part is, there’s not a jerk in the bunch. Maybe that Gaar fellow. Thinks he’s so big. But it’s been a welcoming community for as long as I’ve lived here, and the bigwigs and other comedy industry folks love to visit Austin and scout the local talent.

    You’ve written the awesomely-titled book “A Cynic’s Guide to a Rich and Full Life” — any free life tips for my readers?
    Yes. Anyone can hold a door open for a stranger. But it takes a rare and special breed to trip them in the process. And the book is also awesome…not just the title.

    PS: You’ve never struck me as that cynical. Are you on hiatus?

    Yes. I’m waiting to see if my apathy gets picked up for another season. PS: You’ve never struck me as that observant. I’m a cynic in the sense that I loathe inconsiderate humans, and this world could benefit from a little more common courtesy. I’m more of a pleasant nihilist: While I may agree that nothing in this world really matters, there’s no need for bad manners.


    Big Nose Little Dog has been put to sleep...

    ...the brand name, that is. Not my actual, little dog.

    Hard to believe I've been printing shirts for seven years. Then again, that's only one in bignoselittledog years...but I was overdue for a change.

    And despite what your Grandpa in Phoenix thinks, change is good.

    About the name, I've always been a fan of simple, one-color artwork on t-shirts, so it's the only method I use. I thought, why not market them that way? Might work. Might not.

    "Why kolor? That's stupid."

    No, you're stupid.  And "" was taken.

    But it turns out I had fun making the logo, and I like the idea of a mousy, self-aware slogan like: "Welcome to One Kolor Designs...where all our designs are just OK."

    Everything's Alright.

    Redefining the term!

    I still do all of the printing myself and continue to use American Apparel tees.

    I'm also excited to be back in Parts and Labour on South Congress with 11 new designs. Perfect timing for the SXSW shoppers...a great barometer for what sells and what becomes a homemade Sham-Wow.

    Anyhow, go check 'em out. Some are snarky. Some are inside jokes. Some don't mean a thing. Some make me look like the Marcel DuChamp of screen printing.

    (Free shipping to anyone who gets that reference.)

    Oh yeah, I also put up a Facebook page for One Kolor...the only place to hear about sales and out-of-print clearances. I'm just sayin' is all.

    wholesale hugs and hickeys,

    Kindly shut the f**k up.

    Do you hear that whistling noise? That's my blood boiling.

    Everyone talks about the lack of discipline with children--seriously, everyone's doin' it--but what about adults who behave like children? Who reprimands them?

    People complain about laws. Do you know why laws exist? Because people are assholes. Thanks to assholes, we have speed bumps; car alarms; pay-before-you-pump; spyware; airport security; automatic faucets and tepid coffee.

    Where is this all coming from, Mario?

    I'm glad you asked, imaginary reader. I'm in Little Rock, Arkansas this week. It's a little slice of heaven...if heaven were a shithole. (see also: Shreveport, LA). For those who have never stepped inside a comedy club--and I can't really blame you sometimes--a comedy show is just like a movie: sit down, watch the show and shut your ignorant cake hole. Look at the name on your ticket stub. Who's playing tonight? Is it "Obnoxious Douchebag" or "Fat Cunt"? Nope, they were here last week. And the week before that. Infinity plus one.

    More clubs need to "train" their audiences. You get one warning. If it happens again, you're out. It eventually weeds out these oblivious shit-stains...

    "But we were just laughing!" Really? Then how come the bouncer hasn't had to talk to everyone else who's laughing? Some clubs are afraid to throw out the jackasses, for fear of losing their business. What about the 100 or so well-behaved people who will never come back? Why should they?

    "Say sumptin' funny and thin I'll pay attention." You've got that backwards, sweet-tits. First, you pay attention, then you'll hear something funny. The reason I'm "not funny", is because you've been talking through all the set-ups. Still not funny? Then you're right, that is my jokes are catered to people who've completed high school, and I sincerely apologize. Git-r-done.

    "You guys are 'sposed to be able to handle it." But for how long? I was working with the incredibly adept Jimmy Pardo recently, and he skillfully and hilariously shut down a heckler FIVE times throughout his show. Did she shut up? Of course not. Jimmy got understandably frustrated. After the show, she had the balls to tell Jimmy he shouldn't be doing comedy if he can't handle the crowd. But for how long do the comics have to "handle" your shit-faced, trailer-trash, coked-up outbursts? Apparently, for 90 minutes straight.

    "Dude, man, bro, I'm helping the show." Oh yeah? Do you bring your own food to a restaurant? Your own drum kit to a concert? Yer mom to a brothel? We got it covered, fratboy. Climb back up into your Ford Compensator and hit the titty bar. Don't forget to bring your own stripper.

    "It's my birthday! Wooo!" Ever hear the expression, "Attention Whore"? Well, pay attention, whore...the show is not about you. I know you think it is, and that's precious, but I'm rather certain the other 200 people don't give a shit how old you are. Go to Bennigan's next time. Better yet, casting couch sessions for Girls Gone Wild 12: Egocentric Boogaloo are right around the corner. Get in line. Whore. Wooo!

    [Note: I apologize to the gals if this all smacks of misogyny. I adore women. I love my mother and my two older sisters. But 95% of the time, it's the ladies who can't zip it. Of that 95%, I'd say most are dried-up, tattooed, forty-something "ex-hotties" who never took the time to develop a personality back when their skin was tight and their tits were perky. Reach deep into those leathery saddlebags you call hips and wrangle up some common courtesy.]

    And please, all of you...shut the fuck up.

    enjoy the show,

    (drawing by Toothpaste For Dinner)

    New Cynic's Guide is here!

    Hello friends, fans and light readers...

    They're heeeere...and they're super squishy!

    The expanded edition of A Cynic's Guide to a Rich and Full Life won't hit bookstores until early March...BUT, you can be the first to own one if you order here.

    You're right. That's pretty sweet.

    A big box of wrong.

    We went through two print runs of the original version, and decided to make the third pressing a bit thicker, squishier and...wrongerer. 

    Here's a proper peek at the updated cover:

    It contains 40 extra pages of eloquent filth, which include an additional 120+ hilariously inappropriate tips on how to dampen the days of those near and not so dear.

    At the very least, you get a year's worth of snarky status updates.

    (I also deleted about 30 excerpts so the folks who purchased the first edition don't feel gypped.)

    You can order a copy on Amazon; Barnes & Noble, or from this website when it becomes available...which is now!

    And if you purchase it here, I will sign it and give you a shiny, silver, laptop sticker. Same goes if you get one from me after a show. Check my calendar for dates.

    My publisher is also working on an e-version of the book. Can't wait for that.

    Hoo-ray, I say.