After moving back to Pittsburgh, I began to work regularly at a club called the Funnybone. I was hired by the owners, two well-meaning but constantly bickering brothers. In a dynamic that one could easily see had been playing out all their lives, they’d get into some incredibly nasty verbal spats and were never shy about doing it in front of employees and customers alike. I distinctly remember one snapping at the other, “Hey, eat my shit!” in front of a group of stunned patrons. During shows, they’d often slip into the kitchen area to “discuss” something, and from onstage I could hear them shouting at each other. Periodically, they’d poke their heads out into the showroom, make sure people were laughing, then go back into the kitchen and continue arguing. Ah, the world...

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