An accidental mullet, a Doniphan tattoo, a missing unicorn, and a town that adopted me before the comedy show even started. Chapter One of The Week Before Saturday.

I keep an old hat in my safe. Not because it's worth anything. It's not. I bought it for Nana when she had cancer.

One of the most useful things anybody ever taught me about stand-up comedy was to shut the fuck up. Rocky Dale Davis taught me that.

Jesse Peyton booked me for a show at District 249 in Houston. I sold around 450 tickets and showed up with my entire merch operation in a Hefty bag.

My cousin Hannah had a really good idea when Nana got cancer. She said, “We should shave our heads for Nana.” Apparently we had different definitions of pronouns.

Dana is from Brooklyn. So obviously about a year and a half into our relationship I took her camping in the woods behind my mom's house in Muscadine, Alabama.

At 15 or 16 I had a pretty good system for skipping school. Then one morning I opened the shed door and discovered two grown-ass men already in there.

One of the first decent paychecks I ever got was about $800. I spent almost all of it on something I was absolutely convinced would prove Nana could walk.

The first time my mom let me have a friend spend the night, I cleaned that house like the motherfucker was coming to buy it.

I had a red 1978 Ford F-100 that I fucking loved. One night I wanted to sneak out. By morning, I was helping investigate the theft of my own truck.