Hurricane Milton came through St. Petersburg, Florida, in October 2024, and I did not want to leave my house. I left anyway, at the last minute, and I came out of it with one firm conclusion: I'm never doing this evacuation again. Below is everything I wrote about those days, from the drive out to the cleanup, plus a stand-up set I recorded in the middle of it. My answer to the question most people ask, whether to get out or stay put, is that I would rather prepare my house properly ahead of time and stay home than get swept up in the news and rush out the door.
My reasoning was specific to my situation. My house is a concrete block house, so I wasn't really worried about the wind. I was worried about water. The house had flooded before, and I did not want my house or my Toyota Corolla to flood again. I also heard the warnings that the floodwaters could be worse than Helene. I didn't fully believe it, but I could feel the pressure building, and that is the moment I started packing like I was leaving for the rest of my life.
Here is what happened. On October 9, I took the dogs for a long walk in the rain, then watched the news on my phone and got sucked into the fear. Around 2 p.m. I loaded the dogs and the dog food into my car and drove 20 minutes south to the house of my daughter's best friend's parents, which sits about 20 feet higher than mine. The roads were nearly empty. Their house had a generator, and after the power went out around 7 p.m. I rode out the worst of the wind reading by candlelight. I told that night's story in Evacuating for Hurricane Milton, and Finding Peace by Candlelight.
The next morning I got word around 10 a.m. that the roads were open, and I drove back through a neighborhood I barely recognized. Trees were down everywhere, palm trees hung on power lines, and most traffic lights were out. My house was fine. The trees were fine, though my banana trees were blown over. The cell service was so bad I could only text and call, and that night I walked the dogs through a dark neighborhood where most people were not running generators yet. I told that day's story in The Day After Hurricane Milton: Trees Down, Power Out, House Standing. I came home to a house that needed no flood plan at all, and I spent an hour or two undoing the preparations I had made the day before, when I had set it up for at least a foot of flooding.
Two days later, on October 11, my power was still out and my family was stuck in traffic on the drive home from Orlando, which took them over five hours. My mom's power came back around 5 p.m., and that set off an argument with my nine-year-old daughter about who got to sleep in the bed. I decided to let her win and went back to my own house to sleep. That is the story in Picking My Battles After Hurricane Milton, and the lesson I took from it is that being a grown-up means picking your battles, not winning every argument.
The stand-up set went up first, on October 15, and the three posts that followed went up on October 25. Read in the order things happened, the story runs from the evacuation drive on October 9, to the cleanup on October 10, to the bed argument on October 11. Across those days my view moved from fear and a rushed decision, to a calmer and almost amused acceptance, and finally to a firm rule for next time: prepare early and stay put. The stand-up set is where I joke about the same things, from my neighbors' piles of ruined furniture to the one-hour set I did in the middle of the night, in my daughter's best friend's parents' bed, with my own sheets on it.
Below this opening you'll find all four posts in full, newest first, with the stand-up set last. If you want the rest of that month, the October 2024 vlogs and diary cover the same stretch, and A Day in My Life is the hub for more ordinary days like these.
On this page
Every post I have written on this subject is below in full, newest first, each under its own heading.
- Picking My Battles After Hurricane Milton (October 25, 2024)
- The Day After Hurricane Milton: Trees Down, Power Out, House Standing (October 25, 2024)
- Hurricane Milton Evacuation: Why I Said I'd Never Leave Again (October 25, 2024)
- My Hurricane Helene and Milton Stand-Up Comedy Set (October 15, 2024)
Picking My Battles After Hurricane Milton
From my video published October 25, 2024.
On October 11, 2024, a day or so after Hurricane Milton came through, my main thought was: when are we going to get power back on? We actually had no power all day yesterday, for the first time ever that I've been in St. Petersburg, Florida and didn't evacuate. This was the stretch right after the day after Hurricane Milton, with trees down and the house still standing. So I'm taking as much opportunity as I can to do stuff outside now — to clean things up, to move debris around, to cut off banana trees, and to get everything ready so that when the power does come back on, I'll be ready.
Living like it's end times while the family drives home
The wife and kids are coming home today, and they have miserable traffic to face. Meanwhile, I'm living like it's end times, just eating all this food at home. I did not even leave the house yesterday after I got back home, and I don't know if I'm going to even leave the house today either. All the stuff I usually do — like my yoga and AA meetings — I can't get to, and my phone isn't even getting data on it. So I have no idea what's open or what I can even do. So I'm just putting in work, cleaning the house up, and getting ready for the wife and kids to come home.
My mom's power comes back on, but not mine
What amazes me, after the wife and kids sit in traffic for five hours, is that somehow my mom's power comes on around 5 p.m. — even though she's just diagonally across the street from me, and I still have no power. So as soon as the wife and kids get home and my mom's power comes on, I call my mom up and ask: since she's staying another night in Orlando before she comes home, can we stay in her house since she now has air conditioning?
Right before her power came back on, I had thrown everything out of her fridge, as well as my own fridge, which took about an hour just to do by itself. It wouldn't have mattered if the power came back on — the stuff in her fridge, like all the ice cream, was already pretty far gone. She had so many of these drinks, like Starbucks drinks with milk in her fridge, that I poured out.
The bed argument with my daughter
When my mom's power comes back on, Laura is very enthusiastic to sleep over there with the kids, but my daughter starts getting in an argument with me about where she's going to sleep. I submit that I would like to sleep in my mom's queen bed with my wife in the bedroom, while Madeline and Jack can sleep wherever they want. I think Madeline, being nine years old, should sleep on my mom's couch, and Jack has his air mattress and could sleep in the bedroom with me. My mom says please don't use her bed, because it's got a bunch of stuff on it and she just left it like that.
So Madeline starts in this big fight, willing to go to town with me over whether she can sleep in the bed with my wife or not.
What's nice about being a grown-up is picking my battles
And I realized that I could win this argument. I could fine her five or ten dollars. I could punish her. I could try and bribe her. And I realized — you know what? What's nice about being a grown-up is being better at picking my battles. She really wants to sleep in the bed with Laura and have Jack in the room, and they'll just all sleep over there and be fine. Madeline says I should sleep on the couch, which is ridiculous — I know I'm going to get a crappy night's sleep if I sleep on the couch.
So I surrender, and I say: look, Madeline, go ahead, sleep in the bed with Laura. Even though Laura was gone a few days and I was trying to get some time in bed with just Laura — fine, whatever. We'll just wait till tomorrow. It's not a big deal. I'll miss out on my joy and my pleasure because you want to sleep in a bed with your mother. So go right ahead.
A better night's sleep after the storm
So I end up going back and sleeping in my own house again after taking the dogs for a nice walk. And I realized this might actually be nicer — I might get a better sleep than they will. I'll have my own space, and I can stay up later, because they're all going to bed a little after 8 p.m., maybe 8:30 or 9 by the time Laura finally gets them in bed. Laura's tired. The drive back from Orlando took her over five hours. It's amazing how little gas our hybrid used — it still has three-quarters of a tank after being full when she left and being on the road for five hours. Just getting food was difficult. And she's ready to go to bed early.
So I enjoy staying up, and I'm glad the shower and the sewer are on. I take a nice shower, take a long dog walk, and take some quality time to myself to read. Then I go to bed about 11, having had another really nice day after the storm. If you enjoy these everyday moments, you can watch my newest daily vlogs in my Life playlist.
The Day After Hurricane Milton: Trees Down, Power Out, House Standing
From my video published October 25, 2024.
On October 10, 2024, I documented a day in my life as Hurricane Milton blew through St. Pete. You see what I did there? Milton blew through last night, and honestly, it wasn't that bad at all in terms of flooding. They were so full of crap, as usual, on the news. It doesn't look like there's going to be hardly any flooding at all in my neighborhood. I totally didn't need to leave my house.
What the news got wrong about the flooding
Thankfully, I spent the night anyway and had a good time at the home of the parents of my daughter's best friend, who let me stay at their house. I got up around eight, having gotten a very nice night of sleep. I did a little bit of reading this morning and ate some of the fruit I'd left out on the counter that had been in the refrigerator yesterday. The power's been out since 7 p.m. last night, and I'm waiting for word that I can go back to my house.
My wife says the county is asking people to stay off the roads until they clean them up a bit. I'm looking forward to seeing how much damage there is from the storm, because the winds were pretty severe. It looks like the house I stayed at lost a few fence panels and had some trees fall down. But thankfully, there's no damage to my car, no damage to the house, and no damage to their cars either.
The drive home through a neighborhood I didn't recognize
I get the word about 10 a.m. My wife says the roads are open and I can go back home. I throw everything in my car, which takes nearly an hour because I brought way too much stuff. Then I make the 20-minute drive from the south side of St. Pete to my house in the northeast area.
There are trees down everywhere. I've never seen damage like this in my life before. This is incredible. There's a massive tree that fell down, which probably took our power out last night around seven. The roads are just nuts. There are palm trees hanging on power lines everywhere. If you can even get a one-lane or two-lane road to be drivable, it's a celebration.
I go on Interstate 275, which thankfully is clear, but it's incredible to see the top of Tropicana Stadium ripped off and all the parts of it still attached blowing in the wind. I head toward my neighborhood and there are so many traffic lights out, including the one getting right off the interstate. Most of the traffic lights are out. I'm actually impressed whenever any traffic light is on, but there's not much traffic right now, so it's pretty easy to navigate. I'm driving as carefully as I can to try and not run over any debris. I've had so many flats, and these are four new tires, so let's keep it going.
Pulling into my driveway
I pull into my house and I'm very happy to see there appears to be no major damage. The trees are all fine, although my banana trees are blown over and I'm going to need to cut those out. All my preparations for flood and water were completely unnecessary, as I suspected.
Why I'm never evacuating again
I'm never doing this evacuation crap again. I'm going to get my house better prepared and I'm going to stay every time, mandatory evacuation or not. You're going to have to come get me out of there if you want.
So I undo all the preparations in the house, which I did at the last minute yesterday, including taking the drawers out of dressers and putting stuff up high. It takes me an hour or two to undo all the preparations I made yesterday, when the house was set up for at least a foot of flooding. I pick up as many things as I can, too. I move trash cans around in the alley, and I'm outside with my shirt off most of the day trying to clean things up as much as possible.
Cleaning up with no power and no cell service
The cell phone service is so bad that I literally can't even send pictures. All I've got are text messages and phone calls. It feels like I'm in a third-world country or something. My wife calls to give me the updates and says everything's good on her end in Orlando, and she thinks they're going to come home tomorrow, which seems like a good idea to me.
A spooky night walk and a grateful end to the day
I take a really cool walk with the dogs at night. The power is out everywhere in my neighborhood, and most people aren't even running generators yet. It's dark with no street lights and no house lights. It feels like a third-world country. It's eerie and spooky. There's debris everywhere. There's a tree across the road at one point. It's a really cool vibe for walking my dogs tonight.
I make a plan to put the dogs on one side of the house in the bedroom and shut them in there so they won't bark. I put myself on the other side of the house, open all the windows, and thankfully it's only in the 70s, so even without power and air conditioning I'm going to be able to get a good night of sleep. I am so grateful the house is okay and the cleanup's not so bad. This was actually a pretty fun day today. If you enjoy these slices of ordinary and not-so-ordinary days, you can watch more in my Life playlist, and you might also like a rainy day in St. Petersburg from another day around town.
Hurricane Milton Evacuation: Why I Said I'd Never Leave Again
Originally published October 25, 2024.
Hurricane Milton came through St. Petersburg, Florida, in October 2024, and I did not want to leave my house. I left anyway, at the last minute, and I came out of it with one firm conclusion: I'm never doing this evacuation again. Below is everything I wrote about those days, from the drive out to the cleanup, plus a stand-up set I recorded in the middle of it. My answer to the question most people ask, whether to get out or stay put, is that I would rather prepare my house properly ahead of time and stay home than get swept up in the news and rush out the door.
My reasoning was specific to my situation. My house is a concrete block house, so I wasn't really worried about the wind. I was worried about water. The house had flooded before, and I did not want my house or my Toyota Corolla to flood again. I also heard the warnings that the floodwaters could be worse than Helene. I didn't fully believe it, but I could feel the pressure building, and that is the moment I started packing like I was leaving for the rest of my life.
Here is what happened. On October 9, I took the dogs for a long walk in the rain, then watched the news on my phone and got sucked into the fear. Around 2 p.m. I loaded the dogs and the dog food into my car and drove 20 minutes south to the house of my daughter's best friend's parents, which sits about 20 feet higher than mine. The roads were nearly empty. Their house had a generator, and after the power went out around 7 p.m. I rode out the worst of the wind reading by candlelight. I told that night's story in Evacuating for Hurricane Milton, and Finding Peace by Candlelight.
The next morning I got word around 10 a.m. that the roads were open, and I drove back through a neighborhood I barely recognized. Trees were down everywhere, palm trees hung on power lines, and most traffic lights were out. My house was fine. The trees were fine, though my banana trees were blown over. The cell service was so bad I could only text and call, and that night I walked the dogs through a dark neighborhood where most people were not running generators yet. I told that day's story in The Day After Hurricane Milton: Trees Down, Power Out, House Standing. I came home to a house that needed no flood plan at all, and I spent an hour or two undoing the preparations I had made the day before, when I had set it up for at least a foot of flooding.
Two days later, on October 11, my power was still out and my family was stuck in traffic on the drive home from Orlando, which took them over five hours. My mom's power came back around 5 p.m., and that set off an argument with my nine-year-old daughter about who got to sleep in the bed. I decided to let her win and went back to my own house to sleep. That is the story in Picking My Battles After Hurricane Milton, and the lesson I took from it is that being a grown-up means picking your battles, not winning every argument.
The stand-up set went up first, on October 15, and the three posts that followed went up on October 25. Read in the order things happened, the story runs from the evacuation drive on October 9, to the cleanup on October 10, to the bed argument on October 11. Across those days my view moved from fear and a rushed decision, to a calmer and almost amused acceptance, and finally to a firm rule for next time: prepare early and stay put. The stand-up set is where I joke about the same things, from my neighbors' piles of ruined furniture to the one-hour set I did in the middle of the night, in my daughter's best friend's parents' bed, with my own sheets on it.
Below this opening you'll find all four posts in full, newest first, with the stand-up set last. If you want the rest of that month, the October 2024 vlogs and diary cover the same stretch, and A Day in My Life is the hub for more ordinary days like these.
On this page
Every post I have written on this subject is below in full, newest first, each under its own heading.
- Picking My Battles After Hurricane Milton (October 25, 2024)
- The Day After Hurricane Milton: Trees Down, Power Out, House Standing (October 25, 2024)
Picking My Battles After Hurricane Milton
From my video published October 25, 2024.
On October 11, 2024, a day or so after Hurricane Milton came through, my main thought was: when are we going to get power back on? We actually had no power all day yesterday, for the first time ever that I've been in St. Petersburg, Florida and didn't evacuate. This was the stretch right after the day after Hurricane Milton, with trees down and the house still standing. So I'm taking as much opportunity as I can to do stuff outside now — to clean things up, to move debris around, to cut off banana trees, and to get everything ready so that when the power does come back on, I'll be ready.
Living like it's end times while the family drives home
The wife and kids are coming home today, and they have miserable traffic to face. Meanwhile, I'm living like it's end times, just eating all this food at home. I did not even leave the house yesterday after I got back home, and I don't know if I'm going to even leave the house today either. All the stuff I usually do — like my yoga and AA meetings — I can't get to, and my phone isn't even getting data on it. So I have no idea what's open or what I can even do. So I'm just putting in work, cleaning the house up, and getting ready for the wife and kids to come home.
My mom's power comes back on, but not mine
What amazes me, after the wife and kids sit in traffic for five hours, is that somehow my mom's power comes on around 5 p.m. — even though she's just diagonally across the street from me, and I still have no power. So as soon as the wife and kids get home and my mom's power comes on, I call my mom up and ask: since she's staying another night in Orlando before she comes home, can we stay in her house since she now has air conditioning?
Right before her power came back on, I had thrown everything out of her fridge, as well as my own fridge, which took about an hour just to do by itself. It wouldn't have mattered if the power came back on — the stuff in her fridge, like all the ice cream, was already pretty far gone. She had so many of these drinks, like Starbucks drinks with milk in her fridge, that I poured out.
The bed argument with my daughter
When my mom's power comes back on, Laura is very enthusiastic to sleep over there with the kids, but my daughter starts getting in an argument with me about where she's going to sleep. I submit that I would like to sleep in my mom's queen bed with my wife in the bedroom, while Madeline and Jack can sleep wherever they want. I think Madeline, being nine years old, should sleep on my mom's couch, and Jack has his air mattress and could sleep in the bedroom with me. My mom says please don't use her bed, because it's got a bunch of stuff on it and she just left it like that.
So Madeline starts in this big fight, willing to go to town with me over whether she can sleep in the bed with my wife or not.
What's nice about being a grown-up is picking my battles
And I realized that I could win this argument. I could fine her five or ten dollars. I could punish her. I could try and bribe her. And I realized — you know what? What's nice about being a grown-up is being better at picking my battles. She really wants to sleep in the bed with Laura and have Jack in the room, and they'll just all sleep over there and be fine. Madeline says I should sleep on the couch, which is ridiculous — I know I'm going to get a crappy night's sleep if I sleep on the couch.
So I surrender, and I say: look, Madeline, go ahead, sleep in the bed with Laura. Even though Laura was gone a few days and I was trying to get some time in bed with just Laura — fine, whatever. We'll just wait till tomorrow. It's not a big deal. I'll miss out on my joy and my pleasure because you want to sleep in a bed with your mother. So go right ahead.
A better night's sleep after the storm
So I end up going back and sleeping in my own house again after taking the dogs for a nice walk. And I realized this might actually be nicer — I might get a better sleep than they will. I'll have my own space, and I can stay up later, because they're all going to bed a little after 8 p.m., maybe 8:30 or 9 by the time Laura finally gets them in bed. Laura's tired. The drive back from Orlando took her over five hours. It's amazing how little gas our hybrid used — it still has three-quarters of a tank after being full when she left and being on the road for five hours. Just getting food was difficult. And she's ready to go to bed early.
So I enjoy staying up, and I'm glad the shower and the sewer are on. I take a nice shower, take a long dog walk, and take some quality time to myself to read. Then I go to bed about 11, having had another really nice day after the storm. If you enjoy these everyday moments, you can watch my newest daily vlogs in my Life playlist.
The Day After Hurricane Milton: Trees Down, Power Out, House Standing
From my video published October 25, 2024.
On October 10, 2024, I documented a day in my life as Hurricane Milton blew through St. Pete. You see what I did there? Milton blew through last night, and honestly, it wasn't that bad at all in terms of flooding. They were so full of crap, as usual, on the news. It doesn't look like there's going to be hardly any flooding at all in my neighborhood. I totally didn't need to leave my house.
What the news got wrong about the flooding
Thankfully, I spent the night anyway and had a good time at the home of the parents of my daughter's best friend, who let me stay at their house. I got up around eight, having gotten a very nice night of sleep. I did a little bit of reading this morning and ate some of the fruit I'd left out on the counter that had been in the refrigerator yesterday. The power's been out since 7 p.m. last night, and I'm waiting for word that I can go back to my house.
My wife says the county is asking people to stay off the roads until they clean them up a bit. I'm looking forward to seeing how much damage there is from the storm, because the winds were pretty severe. It looks like the house I stayed at lost a few fence panels and had some trees fall down. But thankfully, there's no damage to my car, no damage to the house, and no damage to their cars either.
The drive home through a neighborhood I didn't recognize
I get the word about 10 a.m. My wife says the roads are open and I can go back home. I throw everything in my car, which takes nearly an hour because I brought way too much stuff. Then I make the 20-minute drive from the south side of St. Pete to my house in the northeast area.
There are trees down everywhere. I've never seen damage like this in my life before. This is incredible. There's a massive tree that fell down, which probably took our power out last night around seven. The roads are just nuts. There are palm trees hanging on power lines everywhere. If you can even get a one-lane or two-lane road to be drivable, it's a celebration.
I go on Interstate 275, which thankfully is clear, but it's incredible to see the top of Tropicana Stadium ripped off and all the parts of it still attached blowing in the wind. I head toward my neighborhood and there are so many traffic lights out, including the one getting right off the interstate. Most of the traffic lights are out. I'm actually impressed whenever any traffic light is on, but there's not much traffic right now, so it's pretty easy to navigate. I'm driving as carefully as I can to try and not run over any debris. I've had so many flats, and these are four new tires, so let's keep it going.
Pulling into my driveway
I pull into my house and I'm very happy to see there appears to be no major damage. The trees are all fine, although my banana trees are blown over and I'm going to need to cut those out. All my preparations for flood and water were completely unnecessary, as I suspected.
Why I'm never evacuating again
I'm never doing this evacuation crap again. I'm going to get my house better prepared and I'm going to stay every time, mandatory evacuation or not. You're going to have to come get me out of there if you want.
So I undo all the preparations in the house, which I did at the last minute yesterday, including taking the drawers out of dressers and putting stuff up high. It takes me an hour or two to undo all the preparations I made yesterday, when the house was set up for at least a foot of flooding. I pick up as many things as I can, too. I move trash cans around in the alley, and I'm outside with my shirt off most of the day trying to clean things up as much as possible.
Cleaning up with no power and no cell service
The cell phone service is so bad that I literally can't even send pictures. All I've got are text messages and phone calls. It feels like I'm in a third-world country or something. My wife calls to give me the updates and says everything's good on her end in Orlando, and she thinks they're going to come home tomorrow, which seems like a good idea to me.
A spooky night walk and a grateful end to the day
I take a really cool walk with the dogs at night. The power is out everywhere in my neighborhood, and most people aren't even running generators yet. It's dark with no street lights and no house lights. It feels like a third-world country. It's eerie and spooky. There's debris everywhere. There's a tree across the road at one point. It's a really cool vibe for walking my dogs tonight.
I make a plan to put the dogs on one side of the house in the bedroom and shut them in there so they won't bark. I put myself on the other side of the house, open all the windows, and thankfully it's only in the 70s, so even without power and air conditioning I'm going to be able to get a good night of sleep. I am so grateful the house is okay and the cleanup's not so bad. This was actually a pretty fun day today. If you enjoy these slices of ordinary and not-so-ordinary days, you can watch more in my Life playlist, and you might also like a rainy day in St. Petersburg from another day around town.
My Hurricane Helene and Milton Stand-Up Comedy Set
From my video published October 15, 2024.
You're about to experience some incredible hurricane comedy, recorded right after the aftermath of Hurricane Helen, or Helena, or whatever, and Milton, back to back in Florida. Like, back to back, you know, Dallas Cowboys, except for hurricanes. We got the worst hit ever in Florida, and I'm gonna see if I can make some jokes about it. I'm Jerry Banfield, full-time YouTuber, and I set the intention: let's see if I can make anything funny. So today's topic is hurricanes. Oh God, he already hasn't made me laugh yet, and it's been 30 seconds. This is hopeless.
The naked neighborhood
I was looking outside at all the furniture. You know, normally people's houses are really private. You don't usually get to see what's inside someone's house, like the kind of couch they have, the bed they have. And walking my dogs in the neighborhood after people's houses flooded for the first time ever — my house got three inches of water; it's never flooded any other time since 1950-something, when it was built, so we tossed out both our couches, all the rugs — and normally I wouldn't see my neighbor's couches and rugs and beds. God, when is he gonna get to the funny part? Ha ha ha ha ha.
It's so intimate. Like, normally we walk around with clothes on and you don't get to see everybody's, what's under their clothes, you know? I'm imagining what's under somebody's clothes now. And right now I feel like neighborhoods are just, like, all this junk out, all these intimate parts of people's lives and homes just dumped out on the street. It's as if, if the houses were people, it's like if everybody just got their clothes wet and just took them out of the house and threw them on the ground, and everybody's, like, walking around naked, disgusted and traumatized, like, I can't believe my clothes got wet. No, it's really funny, Jerry, for all these people who've lost everything. It's so tragic.
It's not like clothes, it's not — I mean, you look at some of the stuff people have thrown out. It's like, really, your upright piano? Your upright piano was damaged by flood? Maybe if it got like three feet, okay. You see some stuff like this thrown out, like a clock. Why? You had a clock? I would imagine that was on the wall. How did your clock get damaged during the flooding? You get the feeling that some people are just using this as an excuse, like, I'm gonna just throw my whole house out right now, we'll just put that on the contents damage.
Screw those stuffed animals
You see some sad stuff too, like there's kids' toys that looked precious and loved. My son had this rainbow dinosaur that was on the ground when the floodwaters came in, and because it was 1:30 in the morning, I didn't take the time to pick it up off the floor and get it away from the floodwaters. I looked over and I thought, screw those stuffed animals. The next morning I showed my son the dinosaur that had got hit with the nasty flood water. The flood water has all kinds of stuff in it, like oil, gas, sewage, all the nasties. Oh, does it have this comedy routine in it? Does it have this comedy routine in it, Jerry? Because that's nasty.
I've now spent almost four minutes sitting here trying to laugh with my pants off and my stuff out in front of the yard. All right, buddy, just a second.
You're only crazy if you interrupt yourself
Some people say, well, you're not crazy if you talk to yourself, but if you interrupt yourself, then you're really crazy. I don't agree. Like, why can't I interrupt myself if I can talk to myself? I grew up in a house where we interrupted and talked over each other. I don't think I'm crazy just because I interrupt myself. Oh, you are, Jerry. Are you ever. You only told them what you were really thinking about.
Well, we got some great comedy routines coming. I'm setting the intention that — oh, setting the intention, that sounds so enlightened — I'm just recording some comedy because I feel like it every day, to see how good I can get at stand-up comedy. You make me laugh. Yeah, that's gonna help you. If you practice every day, you're not gonna get good, buddy.
Walking the dark neighborhood
I love walking around my neighborhood when things are unusual. Unusual, not your regular neighborhood. Let me touch you — you're gonna feel something unusual. Oh God, does this get any better? That's what she said.
So I was walking around, the power was all out the other night in my neighborhood. When's the comedy gonna start? I was out in my neighborhood and the power is out, it looked like a third world country. Jerry, that's insulting for third world countries. I mean, who even knows what a third world country is? It's a way of saying somewhere that looks like a rough neighborhood. Also insulting. It looked crazy. I'm walking around and there's all this furniture, all these naked homes with their insides right there on the outside, so we can see them, and — oh, you wish those were boobs, don't you, Jerry? Yeah, I'd rather do the scenario where everybody just takes their clothes off and throws it down, because seeing everybody's houses turned inside out just leaves me feeling kind of crazy. I don't know if it's awkward, but I guess if everybody just took their clothes off all of a sudden and threw their clothes on the ground, it'd kind of be awkward too, because I at least do feel comfortable staring. I mean, I'll stare at people's crap piles, I'll stop there. Oh, of course you stare at people's crap piles, Jerry. How long you been doing that?
I'm the next Nate Bargatze. That's not how you say it. Whatever, he's got enough listeners on Spotify, it doesn't matter if I pronounce it correctly. So I'll sit there and park my dogs in front of a pile of junk and just look at it, like, really, this painting? Why did this painting get flooded? Was this painting like laying on the floor? You already did that routine, Jerry, the clock, you already did that with the clock, man. But still, I'm like, why is a painting in this junk pile? Was the painting laying on the floor when it got flooded? I picture people, like, just seeing their houses flooded and having a tantrum and throwing everything on the floor, just walking in and grabbing the toaster and throwing it on the floor, and pushing over, ripping stuff off the walls and just throwing it on the floor and being like, look, it's all ruined, you know? There's one painting left on the wall that's like, ha ha, I made it, I made it, and the person walks over and just rips it off the wall — it's like, screw you, you're dying too, killing you off with all this other stuff, you're dead to me. Painting's laying in there drowning, it's like, I didn't deserve this, why me, why me, if I was in Jerry's house I'd still be alive. Oh my God, this has gotten really demented.
I made them disappear
So I was walking around the other night and it was all dark outside and you could see the stars and it was so beautiful, and I was thinking, like, Home Alone, I was looking around. And I'm big into manifesting, you know, like I'm the creator of my reality, that I make everything happen, and I'm looking around and I'm like, I made them disappear. I'm like, yes, so nice, just peaceful, walking without all these aggravated, fearful people buzzing around me. But then I've been happy to see people come back. I don't understand that. Maybe I do, because I'm God. Oh, we're gonna stick you on the cross if you think you're God, Jerry. That's not funny. Where did you even come up with that?
Oh, he hasn't done his Indian accent yet. It is offensive, but it is funny also. Oh God, not that one. I used to hate it when Eminem did some accents in his music, which I don't listen to anymore because, wow, that's rough.
Mandatory evacuation: how exciting
It's like sticking your head right in the — not the eye of the hurricane, but, like, all around the sides. I enjoyed it. They tell me to evacuate and they're like, mandatory evacuation, get out or you're gonna die. Am I the only one that sees those messages and I'm like, nice? It's like, it's gonna be a fun couple of days. Am I the only one that's like, how exciting? The wind is gonna blow harder than usual. I'll tell you what blows harder than usual, Jerry. What is it, what is it, my mom or this comedy? You wish your mom blew harder than usual.
I just try and see how hard I can make myself laugh, because the truth is, I'm just standing in my office by myself. I hit record on a video, took two minutes — two minutes is generous — all right, it took maybe a minute, and I'm like, oh my God, I'm gonna throw up this hurricane picture off a Canva and slap some text on it, and I'm just literally talking to myself in my studio.
So you're wondering, well, how did you get the idea to do these comedy routines in your studio by yourself without a live audience? Well, you see, I evacuated for the hurricane too. Oh, I thought you didn't evacuate. It's all fun and exciting, like, okay, I thought it might be nice. They're like, it might flood and you could die, and I'm like, it'd be stupid if I died, and I'm like, oh, died up in the attic by myself trying to punch through the roof, and I couldn't make it through the roof and I just drowned in the attic, and that was my obituary. It was like, this: Jerry drowned after not listening to 68 text message alerts that said get out you're going to die, and then he died in his attic.
If you want the straight, non-comedy version of those same days, I wrote up evacuating for Hurricane Milton and what I came home to in the day after Hurricane Milton.
A one-hour set in my own sheets
So I thought I could easily go to a friend's house who offered their home. It was really intimate being in somebody's home. Like, how does somebody trust me this much? And, well, my daughter did stay at their house, because this is my daughter's best friend, so, okay, I guess my daughter stayed here. You let your kid stay somewhere, that's really trusting. You know, it's probably not as intimate to let somebody stay at your house when you've already let them watch your kid overnight.
So I'm laying in bed — where is this going? Oh my God — I'm laying there and I woke up at like three in the morning during Hurricane Milton, the wind had stopped blowing, and for some reason I hadn't filmed a video in like 18 hours, so I had these creative juices flowing. Actually, I had done a 10-minute livestream, so maybe it'd been less than 12 hours. But I'd been thinking about doing comedy, I'd been listening to all this stand-up comedy, and — oh, don't tell them this, Jerry, they're never gonna watch again, ha ha ha — I proceeded to perform a one-hour stand-up comedy routine by myself, in bed, in my daughter's best friend's parents' bed, with my own sheets on it.
I don't know who does this, but I just thought, I'm gonna stay at somebody else's house, I should pack my own sheets. Like, I'll take the clean sheets out of my closet, because they evacuated, they probably didn't plan on having somebody sleep in their bed, so I took my sheets, I took their sheets off, put my sheets on, and I'm in my sheets in their bed, and from three to four in the morning I did a one-hour stand-up comedy routine. And the material was so raw and crazy. I was looking around, I'm like, I don't know, man, if I'm so used to filming YouTube videos, the community guidelines are so stuck in my head that even by myself, doing a comedy routine in the middle of the night during a hurricane, I'm like, can I say that? Can I say that? Like, that's so crazy. Oh yeah, Jerry, it's so crazy. I bet you're really wild at three in the morning. You're sober, you're a parent. Oh, you're so wild now.
And I thought, you know, if I just love doing this this much, to talk to myself out loud for an hour, and I laughed so much, I was cracking the craziest jokes — I'm like, you know what, I guess this would be fun to do at home too, wouldn't it? This would be fun, to just turn the mic on and do a little bit of comedy, see what squirts out. Oh God — see what comes blasting out of my mouth. That 3am set in somebody else's bed is the whole reason I decided to turn my life into a comedy diary.
Maybe it's too soon
So this turned into a little bit of hurricane comedy today. Maybe it's too soon for some of my neighbors. I'm like, how do you have this much stuff? There's junk piles that are almost as big as their house, they've torn out the entire inside of the house. And maybe it's too soon for them, so I hope they don't watch this until it's not too soon — or if it is too soon, whatever. Oh God, please stop recording, I haven't died yet laughing, please cut it off. That's not what he said.
My first comedy album
So if you enjoyed this, I recorded it live, and I'm going to drop it on Spotify and the music platforms as my first comedy album. Oh yeah, that's not gonna sell, is it? Well, good thing you can just listen to it without paying for it. Oh yeah, because you're not even gonna be able to get people to listen to this for free, are you? Suck it, critic self. People are gonna listen to this and they're gonna laugh and they're gonna put dead emojis, they're gonna go and open up a chat and text me dead emojis because they laughed so hard. Suck it, critical self. Oh yeah, you would like me to suck it, wouldn't you?
If you enjoyed this, you can watch my newest videos in my Life playlist, and if you want to send me those dead emojis in person, you can join Jerry Banfield Family and drop them in a weekly call.
The darkest thoughts in laughing yoga
Is he laughing for real? Is he laughing for real, or is this like one of those — I did a laughing yoga before. Oh, please stop it before it gets to 20 minutes, that's too long. That's never what she said.
I did a laughing yoga before, it's one of the weirdest things I've done in my life. So you just make yourself laugh? Dude, I had the darkest thoughts when you try and force yourself to laugh. Because, you know — oh, my mic, I need to turn the noise suppression off, it's censoring my laughter. Oh, thank God somebody's censoring something on here. It's censoring some of my laughter. But oh my God, I did this laughing yoga, and you can just make yourself laugh for about 10 minutes, but the last 50 minutes I needed to reach deep into the darkness of my soul to pull laughter out. By the end of this I was getting the darkest thoughts in my mind. It was just me and one other girl, the yoga instructor — because who wants to go do a laughing yoga? — and we're staring into each other's eyes as we're laughing. And I'm having the darkest thoughts. I'm like, what if the roof just fell and smashed us apart right now? And I'm having just one thought like that after another. It's like, what if we just started punching each other in the face right now? Oh, look, he's laughing at it right now, isn't he? So maybe — I don't think this is like that, but I think I'm going to stop now.