SPRING is here and so is me doing shows.  I’ve actually been doing shows all winter but it’s a little warmer and now you can finally unwrap yourself from your quilt, halt your current season of Friends on Netflix, put down the herbal tea and join me out in the WORLD!

April 1- Underground Comedy Club Toronto

April 3- The Black Swan, Social Capital theatre space Toronto

April 6- The Rivoli Toronto

April 9-11- Yuk Yuk’s Vaughn

April 13- The Rivoli Toronto

April 14- Stoney Creek, Ontario

April 21- Comedy Bar Toronto

April 22- Comedy at Spirits

April 23- JFL42 show at Comedy Bar Toronto

April 24- Stratford Ontario

April 25- Leamington, Ontario

April 26- The Hangover comedy show at the cloak and dagger

April 29- Comedy Bar Toronto


The cold dong of winter lags on and so do my shows! Come see me in February and let me warm your dong with laughs?!











Happy New Year come see me in 2015 won’t you?


Jan 4- Yuk Yuk’s Toronto

Jan 5- The Rivoli Toronto

Jan 9-10- Yuk Yuk’s London

Jan 14- Comedy Bar Toronto

Jan 17- Superstars of Comedy at Comedy Bar Toronto

Jan 19- The Rivoli Toronto


Here’s some shows I’m doing up until the new year come on out and watch me ask the crowd if they “feel good tonight”


Dec 4-6- Yuk Yuk’s Montreal


Nov 3- Comedy Monday Nights Calgary 8pm

Nov 5- Jupiter Lounge Calgary

Nov 7-8- Yuk Yuk’s Edmonton

Nov 9-10- Medicine Hat Alberta TBA

Nov 12- Kelowna British Columbia TBA

Nov 14-15- Yuk Yuk’s Vancouver


Oct 14- McMaster University

Oct 16-18- Yuk Yuk’s Mississauga

Oct 22- Algonquin College

Oct 30-Nov 1- Yuk Yuk’s Calgary


More good news I’ve been nominated for a Canadian Comedy Award for Best Break Out Artist this year, check out the website and if you’re in Ottawa come check out some shows and the awards show…and then come check out me drunkenly proposing to a poutine after the awards! Fun!

NXNE and JFL 42

MORE festivals to announce June 18 – 22 I’m part of the NXNE festival in Toronto look out for my shows and also look for me staggering around in a ripped t-shirt at 4am every day yelling drunken profanity into a slice of pizza

I’m also beyond excited to announce I am one of the official 42 in this years JFL 42 in Toronto this year, such a prestigious title with so many amazing acts look out for that happening Sept 18-27



It’s officially been announced I’m very happy to say I’ll be doing a TV taping at this years JFL festival in Montreal- once I get exact dates and times I will post them right here in the mean time enjoy the promotion video and my name popping up in the bottom left corner of one of the montages.




great month of shows coming up, took a bit of a vacation in April but I’m back and all over the place in the next few months ALSO big announcement I just found out I’ll be taping a set at Just for Laughs in Montreal this July MORE details to come!

MAY 2014

May 2-3- Yuk Yuk’s Ajax

May 6-8- Yuk Yuk’s Toronto

May 12- The Rivoli Toronto

May 15-17- Yuk Yuk’s Niagara Falls

May 23- Oshawa Shrine Club

May 26- The Rivoli Toronto

May 30-31- Yuk Yuk’s Kitchener


Here we are in MARCH and it feels like the cold icy fart of winter will never leave Toronto, so why not warm up your farts at a show! Here’s where I’ll be in March



MARCH 13- Tall Boys Bar in Toronto- ALBUM RECORDING!

MARCH 19- Fanshawe College, London Ontario

MARCH 20- The Rose Theatre, Brampton Ontario

MARCH 23- I’ll be an awards presenter at the Prism Awards

MARCH 24- The Rivoli Toronto



I’ll be in LA for a couple weeks in Febrerraururary and if you’re also there come to a show, please and I think that would be great.


Feb 3rd-930pm Barneys Beanery
99 E Colorado Blvd
Pasadena CA 91105


Feb 3rd-10pm Pubilc House
1739 N Vermont Ave, Los Angeles, CA 90027


Feb 6th- 9pm Comedy Palace (this one will be a really good one)
2112 Hillhurst Ave., Los Angeles, California 90027


Feb 7th- 9pm The Capri

4604 Eagle rock Blvd LA, CA 90041

Feb 10th – 9pm 4100 Bar
4100 Sunset Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90029


Feb 12- 930pm West Side Comedy Theatre
1323-A 3rd St
Santa Monica, CA 90401

Thank you!

1000 words a picture

I heard the internet was short on BLOGS so I started a new one to help level things out for the universe.

I Google a random word and write 1000 words for the first picture to show up in the results.

if you want me to write 1000 words about one of your pictures or you have a request email me matt@mattobriencomedy.com


I Poo on Futons

Here’s how I think it started.

It was a cold rainy evening, early October, lets say 1876…cowboy times…yeah….cowboys….maybe not cowboys but people are on horses…picture a time when people would be regularly on horses and the general public wouldn’t be in awe of a person on a horse. Not like nowadays when people see a police officer on horseback and they have to take pictures and clap like a bunch of sea lions jacked up on antidepressants…. we’re in cowboy times….comfortable horse times.




An injured farmer sees the warming glow of a cabin in the distance, he limps towards it and gently raps on the front door.

a woman answers, stirring a large pot of stew, warm fire behind her…it’s the old timey days so she also hasn’t had a decent bowl movement in months, so she’s a bit on edge.

“Sorry to be a bother ma’me,” the scruffy Farmer mumbles with his hat to his chest. “But my horse got spooked, bucked me off in the woods, and left me for a bruised mess….do you mind if I tend to my wounds and rest a bit before I scurry on after him?”

“Oh not at all you poor soul,” the woman politely whispers. “Come on in I’ll get you a warm meal and a lay down.”

The man hobbles into the cabin.

“When you get your belly full of my sweet delicious low fibre stew, have a lay down on that there couch in the corner”

The man glares at an old couch in the corner he’s supposed to use as a bed.



“Not too be a bother ma’me, but my back is aligned in such a way that I need to sleep very wide….I need to spread myself out large so my bones reset as I sleep.”

The woman gently replies “I’m sorry it’s the best I can do at the moment…my husband wont return with our guest bed for another 3 days.”

later that night the man tosses and turns on the old couch unable to get completely comfortable…then he has an idea.

He gets up off the couch, snaps the couch in the centre, spreads it outwards, and opens it like a fresh encyclopedia.

He sleeps on the jagged couch remains in the position he desired, and drifts off to sleep.

The woman awakes the next morning to a broken couch….and a DEAD MAN.

After the initial shock of seeing a mangled mess of dead stranger on her broken couch, she is overcome with a wave of inspiration.

“From this day forward I will only buy couches that fold properly into beds…I swear to you, dead stranger, as God as my witness I, Janet Williamson Futon will market this product.”

And she did…and we are still plagued with it’s existence to this very day.


To label this article “Whats the DEAL with futons” would be all too obvious, and also all TOO accurate.

What REALLY is the DEAL with these horizontal spine melters we subject our friends and relatives to.

I write this article as a human with a library of experience on the subject of passing out on a futon.

Whether I’ve snored too loud and my girlfriend banishes me to the living room, or I’m visiting my parents, or I’m drunk at a house party I’m obviously way too old to be at, but at the time I was wearing a backwards snap back hat I stole from a Red Lobster lost and found so everyone thought I was first year “poli sci”,

futons are always there when you need them and when you need them you realize you’d be better off without them.


If you’re not familiar with the experience of sleeping on a transforming couch, grab an old bean bag chair, drape it over an old sewer pipe and try to get a full 8 hours of sleep.

It’s impossible.

Not only are futons terroristically uncomfortable, they’re always placed in areas of the house that guarantee maximum morning activity.


Futon in the living room guarantees everyone in the house will pass your open, gaping mouth sucking in the precious few minutes of sleep after hours of night time wrestling with the metal beast and it’s 800 plus “bumpy spots”.  Any kids in the house will shove your mouth full of Playdo and if you’re lucky you’ll wake up to a cat planting it’s naked asshole on your face like a furry periscope.

If the futon is in the basement you’ll get to hear the symphony of the washer,  dryer, and furnace as they click and hiss all night like you’re a personal assistant on set of a robotic porno, with special guest “Cat that stares at you as it relieves itself in it’s sandbox toilet in the corner” .


The design of the futon also makes it so every movement you make is greeted with a screech, squeak, or a nose bleed inducing thud.

Just when you think you’re comfortable the futon will check you back into reality and shift it’s weight entirely to one side, then roll you to the centre where the jagged metal barbed aluminum penis dwells beneath the saw dust and newspaper filled “mattress”.

As much as I hate futons I feel like they consciously don’t want us sleeping on them.  Futons are probably the rejects of the couch community, and are outcasts of the bed society.  They’re lonely, depressed and hated by all furniture conglomerates and all they want is to be left alone.


Which is evident when you want to finally move a futon.

Futons do not want to go anywhere.

The frame and mattress are designed to be a permanent fixture of wherever they were originally assembled.  Like an old willow tree, if you try to up root it, it will disintegrate, shed all its limbs, and all you’re left with is a pile of old dead wood that smells like the farts of a million uncles.

The mattress changes shapes whenever you touch it making it impossible for a single person to transport it.  Even with two people the giant semen stained fabric balloon will shift and slip like an angry toddler that doesn’t want to leave the county fair.



So what do you do if you have a futon.  Ask it to leave?  Just deal with it?  Cover it in MORE old blankets you got at the flea market?

You do what that old injured farmer should have done in cowboy times.

You go home.

Have a nice big bowl of stew.

Then you burn your house to the ground and rejoice.


You dance in those ashes to send a message to all the other futons out there.

We will no longer put up with sleepless nights on jagged half couches.

No longer will we try to ignore crusty stains and nap face down in a crevasse of crumbs and loose back hair.

We will rise up, and we will make our relatives and loved ones sleep in heaps on the floor and they will wake up the next day saying “thank you for not subjecting me to a night atop a rejected puzzle from the movie Saw”.

And hopefully someday the futon will be all but an old wives tale of days past.

Elementary school students will gather in bathrooms with the lights off and whisper “futon” three times into a mirror in hopes that the legend of such an uncomfortable demon are not completely true.



The Zoo-tacular Zoocapades of Matt O’Brien

So last week I went to the Zoo.

First of all that sounds like maybe the most wholesome sentence a human being can write.

“what’d you do last week?”

“I went to the ZOO!”

*explosion of balloons and zebra erupt from the phone and delightfully trample the person you’re talking to*

It’s true, the Zoo is one of the few places in the world that just feels genuine. You go there expecting animals, and the Zoos gots animals.

You go expecting over priced crappy keychains and souvenir cups, theys gots it.

Going to the Zoo is right up there with telling someone you’re going “travelling” or you’re going for a “massage”.
It’s one of those things that costs a bunch of money but people perceive it as
“you’re doing something, and experiencing life to the fullest regardless of money, you don’t care because you’re a life liver!”

The last time I went to the Zoo I was 10, and I remember it being amazing.
Class trip, all my pals were there, goofing around, flipping off penguins- what a wholesome growing experience!

Now I’m 28, and I havn’t been to the Zoo in a 18 years…..JESUS, writing that just gave me the realization that I have an experience that is 18 years old…I seriously just erupted in a full body sweat. I know 28′s not old, but just knowing that I was at a place 18 years ago as a functioning human and that me not being there the Zoo has grown another full grown 18 years is terrifying.

Back on track, we plan a Zoo trip, myself and m’lady, and two other couples- hop in a rental car- zip to the Zoo for an afternoon of animal gawking and overpriced sippy cups.

Initially it’s very exciting, there’s a buzz at the entrance to the Zoo, everyones wondering what the animals are going to do next, what they’re eating, what are they doing NOW I want to see them NOW, OH GOD I HOPE ONE LOOKS AT ME JUST SO I CAN FEEL SOMETHING!

The entrance to the Zoo might be the most exciting part, at that point anything is possible.

But after the first 25 minute line to see the panda bears, the glitter and magic of the Zoo possibilities turns into a hunched over panda pancaked on a rock, baking in the July sun.

I don’t know if the pandas hate this kind of weather or they’re just doing what any of us wearing a giant black and white fur coat in July would do, but that was the extent of our panda experience.

Then we frumped over to the polar bears only to see another bag of meat and hair in the distance sawing logs and soaking in the sun.

And again, I don’t blame them- if I were them all I’d do is sleep- what else is on your to do list when you’re a caged Zoo animal. You have no errands to run, all you have to do is be an animal.

It was at the polar bear exhibit that it really set in for me, a guy beside me jokingly elbows me and says “they should have a machine where you put a dollar in and it gives’em a little shock, get my moneys worth here, ya know!? ha haaaaaHAAA!”

I chuckled and then almost barfed at the fact that I instinctually chuckled at this cave man request of his.

The rest of the day we wandered around, the lemurs put on a show, the penguins were charming as all hell- and then we left.

To be honest I’d be fine if the Zoo wasn’t a park to walk around, I’d be fine if the Zoo was tucked away in the middle of the woods somewhere, and all public saw was a sign on the side of the highway saying “All the animals are still alive!” and maybe a donation box you can chuck a pile of change into when you’re rocketing off to work.

This isn’t an anti-Zoo rant, I was just taken back by wanting these wild animals to entertain me in a way and being upset when they weren’t tap dance juggling on top of an empty Sprite bottle.

The more I write about this, do we even NEED Zoos? You can go on Youtube right now and there is any animal you want, doing whatever you want, when you want. Really the only reason you would goto the Zoo in this day and age is to create a hilarious Youtube video on an animal taking a dump or trying to have sex with something.

Zoos are basically wild animal Youtube film studios.

I know Bob Barker is pissed that Toronto has elephants and he’s raising money to get them shipped out.
But it’s really hard to take that headline seriously-

“Former gameshow host saves Toronto elephants”

Maybe that crazy old bastard is right. Maybe 100 years from now we’ll look back at Zoos and wonder what the hell we were thinking. The quicker we get rid of Zoos the closer I get to finally interviewing and eventually hiring a monkey/chimp butler/sous chef- and isn’t THAT what writing a blog about Zoos is all about?


Bananas for Bandanas

Let me start out by saying I am in NO WAY fashion aware.

I don’t know what goes with what, I’m partially coloured blind and I still don’t know the difference between a skirt and a dress.
The other day I had a call back to audition for a bit part on a TV show –  now before you send me baskets of cheese flavoured roses and bouquets of congratulation kittens, I did not get the part.
And no thats not an open invite for any kind of pity party, it happens a lot.  It happens a lot to anyone pursuing acting, it’s an industry of constant rejection.
Which is why, thankfully, I have standup comedy as an outlet to spew my emotions on strangers on a nightly basis, instead of curling up into a soggy disappointed ball in the corner of a Pet store
…why a Pet store? why not.
I was probably depressed from all the rejection and wanted to go stare at some unadopted kittens, and after hours of staring and crying, my clothes became drenched in tears and forced me to the ground until I was dry enough to get up and escort myself out of the Pet store

The role for this TV bit part was “Bungee jump instructor”- hippie laid back out doorsy cool dude, how hard could it be.

Preparing for the audition I had no idea what a Bungee instructor looked like, I was thinking neon jump suit, but having none available in my apartment I opt’d for the ultimate symbol of laid back confidence-a bandana.
I walked into a thrift store, and I bought JUST a bandana.
Which reminded me of buying condoms at a drug store, it’s weird to JUST buy condoms.
I always stack a chocolate bar or a pack of gum on top of them just so the cashier knows my trip is not fully invested in cocooning my dick in a latex sleeve.
I buy the bandana on it’s own, it’s only $3, the cashier says “will that be all” but I in my head I heard “what kind of biker gang puke chugging shotgun festival are you attending today”.

I get the bandana, scurry home- no really, I scurried.
Like a kid that just bought a new video game and couldn’t wait to get home and play it- I scurried home to figure out how to wear this bandana.
I should add I’ve never been a bandana guy.  I feel like it takes a certain type of a person to wear a bandana, like tough biker guys, tattoo covered punky chicks, LA gang bangers, or a 1950′s house wife mopping up her sons ovaltine kitchen mess- I don’t fall into any of those categories (although it would be nice to have my hair out of my face when I’m cleaning up my ovaltine spills) so when could I possibly wear a bandana?
I figured now was the time- I folded it up, strapped it on….and I liked what I saw.
Side note, I liked it so much I was afraid to unroll it for a week, I kept it rolled and tied on my dresser like a bandana tiara for the winner of “Ms. Porta-Potty 2013″.
First off I could totally pass for a bungee jump instructor let me get that out of the way, second I looked in the mirror and was immediately intimidated by myself.
Throughout my life whenever I’ve come in contact with a person wearing a bandana I immediately felt inferior- I’m not sure why.
Maybe because bandana people are so confident that they don’t need hair product, or a regular hat, they decided to fold up their own head gear and screw the whole head garment system.
Maybe because they had a bandana on, it was a true symbol that they were doing what ever the hell they wanted that day.  They had no day job to answer to, no appointments, just an open day and a soggy sweat glazed bandana soaking up the smells of an entire day of chilling out to the maximum humanly possible.
You can’t get away with wearing a bandana at any normal job- if i walked into my Dentist and saw her wearing a bandana I’d run out screaming thinking she was going to rip my mouth empty of teeth and wear them on a necklace made of my pubes….or at least she’d spit in my mouth, call me a “wuss” and skate board down my chest into a pitcher of beer.
I head to the audition in my newly wrapped head, and I immediately noticed the change in looks towards me.
Maybe it’s the combination of bandana and big beard but the tension on the street car ride to the audition was palpable- you could spread it on toast and serve it to Gammy, know what I mean?
Now this isn’t me saying “man I looked tough that day, trust me…guy”
I’m saying I witnessed more than two women clutch a purse, an older man gave me his seat, and I’m pretty sure a dog winked at me.
Something about a bandana told the public that I was ready for action.
Which is true, what do you see any major action star in the 80′s or early 90′s do before they jump into action- they strap on a bandana and they cannon ball into the pit of bad guys in a flurry of flying scissor kicks and pistol whips.
I wore that bandana the whole day even after the audition.  I strutted around town like I was a 28 retired bass player for a folk band that never existed.
It was a weird confidence boost that I think, if you the reader is looking for one, you should try out.
Bandanas should be bottled next to antidepressants at the pharmacy
“now strap on one bandana each morning and be sure to rock the shit out of it 2 to 3 times a week”
So heed my advice you lost soul, if you’re ever feeling dumpy, frumpy, slumpy, or chumpy, just strap on a bandana and go freak out the general public.
And you should listen to me, I’ve been wearing a bandana the entire time writing this and I’m as intimidating as dog shit wrapped in barb wire being loaded into a home made potato gun.