Nov 14, 2022 3 min read

I was one of those weird kids who grabbed a hairbrush and pretended it was a microphone, a mic with a clump of curly, black hair on it. Eww. I used to pick up my GI Joe action figure and pretended that he was an Academy Award, an Oscar with Kung Fu Grip!

Side note: Back in the late Jurassic, GI Joe was 6 inches tall. My guy had fuzzy blond hair, instead of plastic hair like Ken. At one point, he lost his arm in combat, but I was able to glue it back on. He hung out with Spider-Man, the Six-Million Dollar Man, Barbie and Caesar from the Planet of the Apes. It was a very eclectic group, an action figure Algonquin table.

But I digress, like I do. I interviewed the “Man in the Mirror” with that hairbrush. It was like talking to myself out loud, but I took commercial breaks. When practicing my Academy Award speech, the orchestra never played me off.

As a kid, I used to put on shows in my nana’s basement, playing all of the characters, performing for my cousins. It sounds psychotic to me now. I couldn’t tell you what “the act” was about back then. I’m sure it was more like a desperate cry for attention than a comedy show.

My nana’s basement wasn’t an ideal place to put on a One-Boy Show. It was a Batcave with a wringer washer and a working toilet sitting smack dab in the middle of the room, the infamous Pittsburgh toilet (that’s another column).

I was meant to be a performer. Reader Josephine Stotka once called me “a Maker of Smiles.” I spend my days trying to live up to her expectations (I hope you’re still reading, Ms. Stotka).

As an adult, I feel comfortable in front of a microphone. I enjoy standing up and being my ridiculous self. My inner child is on the outside.

Now with Zoom, I am, once again, staring at my face, talking. I am alone in my house, telling jokes to a silent audience. The mute button isn’t good for comedy. Laughter is meant to be heard.

During a fundraiser for Junior Achievement, I could see the emcee, KDKA’s Larry Richert, but I couldn’t hear him. During my punchlines, he covered his mouth and tittered like a geisha, silently laughing.

Thanks, COVID.

I’m a hybrid now, like a Prius. I’m performing out in the world again, but, sometimes, I’m behind a microphone at home, back where it started.

Recently, I started a podcast with my cousin, Janine Falvo, an award-winning chef who’s been on “Top Chef” and “Cutthroat Kitchen.” We call it “F & B, Falvo and Buzzelli on Food & Beverage.” We talk about recipes, restaurants, cocktails and more, it’s about food and beverage (d’uh). Now, I’m in her basement recording episodes. Her toilet is behind a door, in an actual bathroom.

I’m just glad to be sitting in front of a microphone again (there’s no hair on it).