Best Philly bar: Bob and Barbara’s—cheap drinks, cool people and ping-pong, plus Nate Wiley and the Crowd Pleasers. Although Nate died a couple years ago, they don’t have ping-pong anymore, and I haven’t been there in a couple years.
The first time I got hammered: I think I was in Rome? I was young and stupid so I drank Long Island iced tea, and I was at a discotheque dancing in a tight shirt because I was in Europe, and I staggered through Piazza San Pietro and saw someone trying to steal a moped.
Greatest onstage drunk talk: Drinking does not help my comedy. If I’m drunk on stage, it’s because the show is horrible and I don’t want to be there and my brain is like, ‘I refuse to stick around for this shit. You’re on your own, body!’
Best drink you would never order around another man: Spunk Guzzler.
Best Philly bar: The Bards; it’s very cozy and there’s not a lot of riff-raff.
Greatest onstage drunk talk: Anytime at the Raven where I’m just as drunk as the crowd. It’s like a rough town meeting where no one agrees with me, but I have the floor. It’s just so genuine. It’s like Fight Club—you beat the shit out of each other, and then you’re like, “You know, I could totally hang out with you ... But I don’t think you’re funny at all.”
Best Philly bar: I spend a lot of time at The Bards. It’s close to Helium, and it’s a great mix of people and beers. My other favorites are North 3rd and Standard Tap.
Most loco Four Loko experience: I don’t understand the craze. This drink has been around for years and still goes by its original name, “Alcohol and Cocaine.” Until it’s acceptable to share Four Loko with complete strangers in a bathroom stall, I’ll stick to the original.
Best drink you would never order around another man: The blood-orange margarita from North 3rd. It’s like having the show Glee in your mouth. The bartender lines up martini glasses rimmed with orange Tang, then shakes them violently in front of your face, as if to say “HEY EVERYBODY! There’s a couple dudes over here about to disappoint their dad!”