Chris White Sucks: Biography

Hey there, amigo! I call you "amigo" because I'm operating on the assumption that you are not a) a bounty hunter or b) someone from my high school checking to see if got super fat. I'm also assuming we've met face to face at some point, because despite my hideous talents, I'm not famous. Once I GET famous, I'll be happy to stomp on the little people, and at that time my entourage of embittered Ivy League lawyers will rewrite this bio. They'll probably use the phrases "meteoric rise," "electric," "crowd favorite," and "hottest young comedian today," even though I'm in my mid-30s. You should probably understand that the entertainment industry is like "Logan's Run," where you're basically dead by 30. If you're an ugly person you can hang on as a character actor, but I'm clearly far too beautiful. It's a blessing and a curse.

Anyway, on to that bio! Please note that it's written in first person. I feel this makes it more personal, thereby strengthening our amigo bond, and perhaps increasing the chances that you will spend money on me. As an amigo, you deserve to know that up front.

I'm from Philadelphia, because saying you're from Delaware County never starts an interesting conversation in a sports bar. My parents are cool and I have two brothers who are also nice guys. This is almost unforgivable, as my family provided me with no serious mental problems on which to base my entertainment career. NOT ONCE did my dad leave me in a locked car in a strip club parking lot. As a really smart dude, I was on the quiz bowl team, and I played trombone in the marching band. And the ladies? OHHHHH YEAH.

Seriously, just tons of ladies.

OK, I think you're sensing that I'm lying, and that was a breach of our trust. So I'll be straight with you: NASA requested that I abstain from the ladies until college. I'd explain but it's classified. So anyhow, I did go to college in Richmond, Virginia, because it was 250 miles away from Philadelphia. Let me tell you something, amigo -- that's a good distance. It lets you be independent, but if you accidentally, oh, say, drive your parents' car into a reservoir, it's close enough that they can be there that evening while still leaving you enough time to come up with a plausible excuse. That's a hypothetical, mind you. I drove the car into a Cirque de Soleil performance, on NASA's orders.

After school I moved to Washington, D.C., stopping back in Philadelphia only long enough to watch "Boy Meets World" reruns for three months. After a few months in D.C. I got a job at The Washington Post, and I worked there for five years editing opinion columns by really smart people. While I was there I saw an article about open mic nights in the area, and I decided to try it. Since I was sort of good, I kept going back, and eventually quit the super-lucrative world of journalism to do comedy.

I'm supposed to brag about my achievements here, but let's keep it real: There are about 7,000 people with "Premium Blend" on their resume who you never heard of. Nor should you! They're terrible. So I'll just mention my two proudest comedy achievements. First, I once performed at a roadhouse in Paducah, Ky., on the same day I visted the National Quilting Museum. Second, I one time stretched a set about 20 minutes to cover for Paul Mooney being late to a club in Philadelphia, and the crowd LOVED IT. I was also on "Last comic Standing" for three minutes (the TV credit that will be my generation's "Evening at the Improv") and they play me on satellite radio sometimes.

You should also know that I'm diversified: my empire has expanded to include comedy albums, a podcast that includes interviews with all kinds of great comedians, and some short humor pieces. I actually picked up a hobby while traveling for comedy: the U.S. presidents. I write columns for McSweeney's on the commanders-in-chief and review my visits to every presidential site. I've recorded an audio book and I'm wrapping up a crappy novel of my own. I host a crazy awesome trivia night and I created (and maintain) dcstandup.com, a great resource for stand-up comedy in the Washington/Baltimore area.

There! You should now have enough information to determine of your own free will that I'm a pretty great comedian -- one who would easily be worth $350 to perform at your church picnic. Get on it, and if you need some more info on me, feel free to write me an e-mail.

Oh, and I'm married, ladies. I'd explain but NASA won't let me.