Mike Buzzelli

I like to listen to people talk. No, not my friends and family. (They’ll be quick to point out that I don’t really listen to them.) I like to listen to total strangers.

Last week, I made my triumphant return to my day job in downtown Pittsburgh. You would think it would be easy to slip right back into the routine, but it wasn’t.

Dear COVID-19, I miss standing up in front of people and telling jokes. I miss the laughter – and the occasional groan.

A bunch of people are reporting that they’re having weird dreams since we began self-isolating. My dreams have always been a bit weird. I didn’t know they were ever supposed to make sense. They’re dreams. Here’s a clue: If you’re flying or having a conversation with a rabbit, you are most li…

On New Year’s Eve, I remember people cheered the end of 2019. They were very excited to enter the New Year. Yeah. About that. Our current situation makes 2019 look like a walk in the park – without a mask or gloves!

I never thought the day would come, but I am officially sick of television. As a kid, I laid in front of the boob tube, elbows propped up my head as I gazed into the small screen (it was only 12 inches wide at the time). Television was my best friend back then.

Yes, everyone is talking about the COVID-19 virus. While I will mention it peripherally, I am on to bigger, more important matters.

In 2019, 40 new words were added to the dictionary. Now you can confound your Scrabble friends with all of the new words and get away with it.

As a standup comedian, I’ve been pretty lucky. I haven’t had to deal with very many hecklers.

There are some horrible things going on in the world, but sometimes you stumble upon a story about a really dumb criminal. Stories about thieves who get caught are my favorite kind, but this dude should win an award.

Anyone who knows me can tell you that I have Arithmophobia, a fear of math. I’m not just bad at it. I am afraid of it. When people say they are afraid of snakes or spiders, I tell them I’m afraid of numerals. Excel spreadsheets give me the heebie jeebies.

It didn’t happen on purpose, but someone purloined my gym socks from the locker room. It had to be an inadvertent and unintentional swipe, because they were sweaty and the left one had a hole where my pinky toenail had cut its way free.

I did some last minute shopping on Christmas Eve. It was a warm, sunny day in December (those words don’t go together very often), and I ran around for some odds and ends before the official start of the holiday.

I did it again. I broke another toe. This time I broke the Piggy-Who-Gets-Roast Beef, but I also injured the Piggy-That-Gets-None. Twenty years ago, I broke the same toe on the right foot. I still find it frustrating that toes don’t have names. It’s just the big toe and all the other toes. F…

I am preparing for a great fall. I need to specify: I am a known klutz, but – this time – I mean autumn. I have never really embraced the season before. For too long, I think of the fall as a precursor to winter, and winter is definitely not my thing.

Comedy is funny. I mean, obviously. But it’s not just “funny ha-ha,” it’s “funny strange.” Most people think it’s pure chaos. If you’ve ever seen the early appearances of Robin Williams on “The Tonight Show,” it sure looks like chaos (use your YouTube, kids). But there was even a method to R…

It’s been a good summer so far. I’ve been to the pool, the beach and a water park. I’ve gotten wet and wild while enjoying the sun.

Recently, I celebrated my niece’s wedding. I ate way too many cookies from the cookie table (a tradition), and bumped into way too many people doing the slide dances, both Electric and Cha Cha. They’d go right, I’d go left. They zigged, I zagged. I’m not so good at line dances.

Dear Mr. John Cena,

Last weekend, I went down to Washington, D.C., with a group of friends. My friend Michael and I were sharing a room at the Wardman Park Marriott, which is a stately, venerable hotel right on the Metro line. It also has an outdoor pool (one of my requirements).

It was standing room only on the bus ride home the other day. Much to my chagrin, I stood near the front of the bus.

There is a certain madness in going to the grocery store. Just when you have the layout memorized, they move everything. Aisle three is no longer cereal! That’s news! Someone should put this headline above the fold: They’ve rearranged the Shop ‘n Save!

Everyone is afraid of something. I had a long list, but, over the years, I’ve gotten over some of my deepest, darkest fears. For example, I’m no longer afraid of suspension bridges or general dentistry.

“Avengers: Endgame” is smashing box office records before it even arrives in theaters later this week, and I am very excited.

Last time we were together I regaled you with stories about wackadoos in the state of Florida doing all sorts of weird and illegal things (by the way, there is a restaurant named Wackadoo’s in Orlando, and it couldn’t have been more aptly named or more conveniently located).

What the heck is happening in the Sunshine State? There’s a new Internet game called “Florida Man.” It’s easy and fun to play. Just Google the words “Florida Man” and add your birthday (just the day and month – the year is unnecessary). Several surprising results appeared.

I’ve been very unlucky with condiments. Looking back, I have several embarrassing moments involving crushed red pepper, ketchup and Italian salad dressing.

This month, I had a joke published in the Reader’s Digest. Most people I told would cock their head and say, “Huh. They STILL make Reader’s Digest?”

Once upon a time, I was meeting my friend Sandy at the movies. I stood outside the theater, waiting impatiently. I kept thinking, “If she shows up right now, I have time to go get popcorn, go to the restroom and see all the trailers.”

A few years ago, I read an article about children. They took tests from grade school kids and showed off their most ridiculous answers, because kids say the darndest things. One particular answer struck me as right, even though the teacher didn’t like it.

During the holidays, I get together with my cousins for The Great Gingerbread Contest. We start the evening building gingerbread houses. We use graham crackers, old iced tea cartons and leftover Halloween candy to build our holiday masterpieces. By the way, it’s not just houses. In the past,…

Today is the last day to go to the gym before it gets mobbed by newcomers. The drugstore will probably sell out of Chantix, but there will be one more empty stool at the bar. At midnight, people will make some crazy vows they can’t keep.

It’s the holiday season, and Santa Claus has a toy for every good girl and good little boy, but … do you? If you’re stuck without an idea for the kiddies, don’t panic! I have a list of hot, new items to stick under your tree.

My mother was right. My face did freeze this way. That pained expression on the aforementioned face is a reaction to a bitter cold blast of winter. Picture Jack Nicholson’s icicle-covered head in “The Shining.” That’s how I feel. I’m just not quite as murdery. Yet.

Wednesday, Nov. 7, I had jury duty. And yes, the word duty still makes me laugh when I hear it out loud.

Call off Nancy Drew. The Kansas City police recovered the large, inflatable colon that was recently stolen. Yes, according to The New York Times, a giant inflatable colon was pilfered, but, luckily, the police recovered it. It was national news!

A friend of mine requested a scary story for the Halloween season. I recalled a recent true tale of terror. A story so frightening, I felt it needed a warning. Please, read further … only if you dare. This story is guaranteed to give you chills!

I’ve stayed in a lot of hotels. I have the basket of baby soaps and mini-shampoos to prove it. Every hotel has its own unique quirk. That’s a polite way of saying … they’re messed up.

It’s 5 o’clock in the morning and I can’t sleep. My body doesn’t have to be up until 6:30, but my brain is wide awake. No one can tell my head what to do. It’s like my mind has a mind of its own.

Preface: It might be a bit early in the season, but I’m going to get spooky. Think of this column as a pumpkin-spiced latte: It’s early, but you want it anyway.

I have been contemplating writing a letter to my younger self. I know I won’t be able to deliver it without a time machine, but that’s not the point. It’s supposed to be a psychological exercise. However, I really would like to jump into a DeLorean, jet back to the past and tell my younger s…

And now, another episode of “Mike Puts His Foot in His Mouth – an ongoing saga of a man whose mouth works twice the speed of his brain.” We join tonight’s episode already in progress, because – let’s face it – it’s always happening.

I am reporting from the eye doctor’s office. I can’t see anything right now. The doctor just dilated my eyes, and my pupils are gigantic. I look like a cartoon character. Think Speed Racer before he crashes.

My summer is shaping up nicely. Thanks for asking. There has been frolicking and much merriment. Huzzah! No, I’m not spending the summer in Elizabethan England. I’m just excited.

I have always been curious about flying saucers. I have seen some strange things in my lifetime, but I’m not sure I ever saw a UFO.

I realize that there are gargantuan problems in the world, but I like to focus on the little things. There are a lot of dumb little things that really shouldn’t bother me … except they do.

I celebrated Memorial Day weekend in the traditional way – a beach vacation. I hit two beaches: Virginia and North Carolina. I partied in two states in one long weekend, like a rock star. I just didn’t damage any hotel furniture.

I have never been a fan of noise. I have ranted against loud TVs in doctor’s offices, in hair salons and at gas pumps.

Spring is in the air and prom pictures are starting to pop up all over social media. My prom PTSD is kicking in. Reminiscing about the prom makes me a little itchy.

According to Fox News, a majority of Americans curse when they are stressed. Most likely, because they’re watching Fox News – or any news for that matter. When I read the report, I said, “No $#!” which, for those of you who don’t read comics, roughly translates to “No duh!”

A few days ago, I read about the closing of the Pittsburgh Playhouse in Oakland. I don’t normally wax philosophical about a building, but I have some very fond memories of this historic locale. I’ve seen Greek tragedies, classic comedies, drag queens and German soldiers in that theater.

I have a friend who once told me he would never go on Facebook because he believed it was invented so that the government could spy on him. Back then, I thought he was crazy. Granted, he did wear an aluminum foil hat to keep aliens from scanning his brainwaves, but now I realize he was proba…