Comedian Christian Finnegan won't reveal his age, but his humor displays a boyish willingness to go wherever the laughs take him, whether that means kissing a chimp for a photo op or turning childhood bullies, vacation fights, or buying a vibrator into onstage material. Even though he's a fixture on the alternative comedy circuit in New York and performs at clubs across the country, the stocky, Boston-bred Finnegan is best known for his television roles as "Chad" on Chappelle's Show and his recurring gig as a pop culture commentator on VH1's Best Week Ever. Finnegan proves that his comedic talent isn't lost in translation as he emails Gothamist about hecklers, crowd work, and embracing his inner "jock asshole."

How did you get into doing standup? When and where was your first gig and how did it go?
Basically, I got into stand-up because I’m too egocentric to be an actor and not disciplined enough to be a writer. I spent some time studying acting in college, but eventually I got bored of rolling around on the floor and moaning from my diaphragm. Besides, at the time I thought myself far too great an intellect to be relegated to mere “actor” status. I had mind-blowing theories about Life, Death and the filmography of Ralph Macchio—the world needed to know! Stand up is a great medium for people who think they’re oh-so-very-interesting but can’t be bothered to sit down and write a novel.

My very first “gig” was in 1996, at “Faceboy’s Open Mic Night” at the now-departed Surf Reality. When I was toying with the idea of trying stand-up, I went to a bunch of comedy clubs and felt very out of place. There was a faint “jock asshole” vibe that felt very much a remnant of the Eighties comedy boom. Surf was another world entirely. There was music (most of it tuneless), poetry (most of it awful), sketch comedy (most of it gay-sex themed), and lots and lots of uncomfortable nudity. I dug it. It was the perfect place to start out, as everyone involved was utterly nonjudgmental. But after a couple of years I started to resent the kumbuyah ethos and drifted away from that world, to the extent that I now probably feel more comfortable in a comedy club than I do an “alternative performance space.” Maybe because I’ve become the jock asshole.

A lot of your jokes are actually little stories, whether about getting teased as a kid or going on vacation with your girlfriend. How much of those are rehearsed and how much is embellished when you get onstage?
It generally starts out as something real and then gets pruned and embellished a bit over time. Like when I talk about going on vacation with my girlfriend, I’ve replaced the words “into a darkened men’s room stall” with “on vacation” and the words “my seventh grade shop teacher” with “my girlfriend.” But the basic truth is still there.

Is there anything you won’t talk about onstage?
As a general rule, I’ll talk about anything, provided it’s funny. But some topics (disease, famine, Big Daddy Kane) have a slightly higher threshold for how funny an idea must seem for me to try it onstage. It’s fine to shock people with something truly vile, but it has to be in service of something. You can read more about this in my new book, “How to Tea-Bag a 9/11 Widow: Humor in the 21st Century “

How often do you write jokes and what’s that process like? Do you write them as things happen to you or do you have a designated time set aside for writing?
Most of the good stuff comes in unexpected bursts—for weeks on end I won’t come up with anything worthwhile and then one night at 3 a.m. I’ll write ten full minutes of solid stuff. But I’m always trying to be more workmanlike in my writing habits, even if it’s futile. Sometimes I’ll pick random words out of the dictionary, one for each letter, and use them to come up with premises. It rarely results in useable material (unless you count my all of my hilarious “Quahog” material), but it gets the brain clicking. I’ve never bought into the mythos that a comedian has to be an irresponsible flake in order to be funny. This “bizness of show” is unpredictable enough by itself without you making it harder on yourself. That said, I am a something of a flake.

Do you have a favorite of all your jokes? What’s the average life cycle of one of your jokes—how long is it between when you first perform it and you get tired of hearing yourself say it out loud? Do you ever tweak them as you go along or change them just because you’re bored?
My favorite stuff is probably the weird stuff I would never bother doing at a traditional comedy show. Back when the DC Sniper was on the loose, I made up lyrics to a “lost” Smiths song called “Sniper, Sniper.” It’s not the kind of thing I’m going to inflict on the crowd at the West Palm Improv, but I still get a kick out of it. That’s why websites and blogs are such a great tool for comedians—you have a forum for all of your gleefully half-baked nonsense. Fake Smiths songs notwithstanding, I generally avoid topical material, because 1) you can’t use it for very long, and 2) there is a certain cheese factor to “ripped from the headlines” kind of stuff. I write topical jokes for Best Week Ever, of course, but little of that material finds its way into my stand up.

You’re often on The Today Show being witty about pop culture as part of your Best Week Ever duties. Are you more nervous during a taping like that than during a standup set?
The main thing I worry about when doing The Today Show is that I’m going to say “fuck” on live television. That word is so ingrained into my everyday conversation; I figure it’s only a matter of time before I screw up. And when I do, I already know exactly how I’m going to handle it. I won’t reveal that here, but let me assure you—it will be a day for Matt and Katie to remember.

Speaking of Best Week Ever, how in tune with pop culture are you? In other words, if you weren’t on Best Week Ever, how many names would you recognize from Page Six? Do you care about celebrity gossip in and of itself, and do you think we as a culture are too obsessed with celebrities?
I’ve always had the ability to absorb pop culture minutiae like a sponge, but I ain’t gonna lie: it might not all be right up at the forefront of my mind, were it not for the show. I’d still read Page Six, because deep down I’m a snarky little girl. But if Best Week Ever didn’t exist, I would probably spend a little less time thinking about Wilmer Valderama. Only a little, though.

You played Chad, the only white roommate in the Mad Real World sketch on Chappelle’s Show, and get recognized for that, especially by younger people. How do you feel about permanently embodying Chad for these kids?
It’s pretty surreal when some dude you’ve never met before walks up to you in the supermarket, points in your face and bellows, “I HAD SEX WITH KATIE TOO!!!” But that’s just shows you how much Chappelle’s Show meant to people. I’m honored to have contributed, in some infinitesimally small way, to what twenty years from now will be considered the very best comedy show of its era.

Recently, a Marine almost killed you while you were onstage. Is that the most danger you’ve ever been in while doing comedy? Looking back, would you have done anything differently?
“Killed” is probably an overstatement. I think the young fellow just wanted to have a nuanced discussion on First Amendment issues and geopolitics (whilst simultaneously making blood pour from my ears and nose). But in the guy’s defense, he’d returned from Iraq only two weeks before the night in question. Regardless of your feelings about the war, it can’t be denied that a soldier in Iraq is dealing with a level of stress that you and I can’t even fathom. If this guy’s emotional baggage happened to overtake him on that particular night, it’s not the same as if he was just some asshole “tough guy” accountant or shoe salesman. That said, if this guy is still drunkenly threatening people five years from now, he should then be considered a garden variety douchebag.

Is there a political element to your humor or do you try to keep that out of your act?
I dip my foot into political stuff here and there, but usually I find that kind of comedy boring. I appreciate someone like Bill Maher, who pulls that stuff off really well. But I’d much rather talk about general social issues than do six minutes of Tom DeLay material. Like I was saying before, there’s a real cheese factor there. I find the specificity of personal experience a lot funnier. What people say as opposed to what they truly mean, who people really are as opposed to who they pretend to be, stuff like that.

You also touched on how you do or don’t change your act when traveling. Do you feel most comfortable or “yourself” when performing in New York? How much do you tailor your act?
To be honest, I’ve yet to find any audience where I can be myself 100%. Maybe that’s because I’m still not completely settled as to who I am, exactly. Not just in comedy, but in life. Whenever I’m in the presence of any like-minded group of people, I find myself feeling strangely “other.” I was a kid who loved The Cure and Queensryche and watching football on Sunday. At the same time, I had nothing but withering disdain for goths, metalheads and jocks alike. It’s definitely something that’s carried over into my career. I’m proud that I can win over a crowd of Williamsburg hipsters and then fly to Jacksonville and do pretty well there, too. But that comes with a price: when I go to Williamsburg I feel like Bert Convy and when I go to Jacksonville I feel like GG Allin. Oh well.

You wrote on your site about people expecting you to be funny 24/7; what other misperceptions do you face as a comedian? Do you feel you’re not treated as seriously by certain people because you do comedy for a living?
People who aren’t involved in the funny biz (“Civilians," as we call them) often think there are only two levels of entertainment: superstardom and complete obscurity. They think if you’re not Jerry Seinfeld you must be some deluded open mic-er wasting time until you finally wise-up and take that job at Morgan Stanley. I was very fortunate, in that my family has always been supportive of what I do (even when a bit of skepticism may have been appropriate). But random people still give me ridiculous pieces of advice, like “Hey, you know what you should do? Get a spot on The Tonight Show.” Um . . . yeah. Thanks.

You do a lot of shows at colleges and clubs around the country. Do you enjoy the traveling? What are the biggest differences you find when you go on the road? What would be your ideal schedule?
I do enjoy traveling, although it’s been a bit brutal lately. Up until a couple of months ago, I didn’t have a driver’s license, which meant I’d find myself in some shitty room at the Doubletree Inn for five days straight, sitting in my underwear playing Grand Theft Auto (yes, I bring my Playstation on the road with me). If I’m going somewhere cool, my girlfriend will come with me—she forces me to get out of the hotel and actually do things. If I had my druthers, I would never leave New York, because I love this city so damned much. But if you want a life in comedy, a certain degree of rootless-ness is part of the bargain. I think it would be great to travel for about ten days a month, and then be in town for the rest of the time. But honestly, I’m grateful for the work—if that means being away from home a little bit more for the next year or two, so be it. I wouldn’t look that particular gift horse in the mouth.

What are your favorite kinds of rooms to perform in? Does it affect your material or performance when you know (or don’t know) people in the crowd?
As I mentioned, I’m not sure if I’ve ever found the “perfect” room. But I will always feel most comfortable in those guerilla comedy shows that happen in bars around New York, as that’s where I really started (and where I continue to be, whenever I’m in town). As for knowing people in the audience, I think it’s important for a comic to perform in front of familiar crowds and strangers equally. Comics who only do the road tend to stop writing—why write new material when Pittsburgh has never heard your hilarious DMV bit? On the flipside, if you’re going up in front of the same group of people over and over again, you get so concerned with not repeating yourself that you may never learn how to “perform”—how to pace yourself, how to look comfortable onstage, etc. There are hundreds of people in New York alone who write brilliant material, and writing is always the most crucial component of good comedy, but I think the next step is learning how to take that material and perform it effectively. Hopefully I’ll get one of the two working for me in the near future.

Tell me about the new movie coming out, Eden Court, that you acted in.
Well, it was shot this past summer in scenic Schaumburg, IL. Tom Lennon from Reno 911 stars, along with Kimberly Williams-Paisley from Father of the Bride and Stephnie Weir from Mad TV. I play Tom’s best friend—kind of a “pull my finger” type dude. It’s being edited as we speak and then I think the producers are going to take it out on the festival circuit. I really think it’s going to be a wonderful little movie. Hopefully I didn’t screw it up too much.

You’ve done a lot of things in your comedy career, from make prank phone calls to act to being a game show host on TV Land. What’s your favorite, and do you like having the mix of kinds of jobs or would you prefer just one?
Well, I’m still holding out for a sweet gig at Morgan Stanley, but until then . . .

Who makes you laugh? Can you hang out at a comedy show and just enjoy it anymore as an audience member?
I definitely enjoy watching great comedy, although it’s hard to watch it as a regular audience member. I see someone do a great new bit, and I’m automatically admiring a specific word choice or marveling at a well-placed pause. Watching bad comedy, however, is still soul-crushing. As far as specific people who make me laugh, it would be impossible to name everyone, but a very short list would be: Patton Oswalt, Bill Burr, Greg Giraldo, Dave Chappelle, Bill Maher, Louis CK, Sarah Silverman, Tenacious D and the guys who run Giant Tuesday Night of Amazing Inventions (the best show in NYC, in my humble opinion).

Crowd work: pro or con?
Crowd work has a deservedly bad reputation, especially here in New York, but I think it can be done gracefully. It’s not a talent I’m particularly blessed with, but I admire those who are. And sometimes a bit of crowd work is necessary. If a waiter drops a tray of drinks in the middle of your set, you need to address it—otherwise the audience may as well be watching TV. There’s a reason why people pay money to come out to a comedy club: it’s Sheila in accounting’s birthday! But also, they come out because they want be a part of a live event. That doesn’t mean you need to spend twenty minutes ragging on some guy’s ugly sweater, but at least let people know that you’re in the same room with them.

You’re performing tonight at UCB as part of Best Week Ever Live, where you and some of the other cast members critique the week’s pop culture news. There’s been a few of these live shows, and I’m curious how they differ from the TV show tapings. Does having an audience there make you ham things up more or are you pretty much the same as you are in the studio?
The live show is a slightly different animal than what airs on TV. Sure, many of show’s recognizable elements are there, but if the entire live show consisted of us wryly sitting back in our chairs, it would make for a rather boring event. So yeah, you do need to “ham it up” kinda. But it’s mostly a matter of energy level. Many of the jokes I’ve used in the live show are ones I’ve done on television—I just have to shout them a bit louder. I would say the main difference is that the live show tends to be a bit darker and lot dirtier. Also, we’ve started to build a good deal of audience participation into the live show, which has been surprisingly enjoyable.

What are you working on next?
Well, I’ll continue to do Best Week Ever until they stop taking my phone calls. And I host a silly little game show for TV Land, called Game Time that airs on Monday nights. I’m also really excited about this satellite radio show for hardcore music geeks that I’m trying to get off the ground. Other than that, just lots and lots (and lots) of traveling, bringing my brand of semi-hilarity to dozens around this great nation of ours.

Do you have anything else to add?
Hell no. I’m winded.

Visit Christian Finnegan's website at www.christianfinnegan.com. Catch him tonight as part of Best Week Ever Live at Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre, 207 West 26th Street, with Paul Scheer, Doug Benson and Pete Holmes and tomorrow with Paul Scheer, Doug Benson and Danielle Schneider (Reserve your tickets here, both shows start at 9:30 and cost $8) and at The Comedy Festival in Las Vegas on November 19th. Game Time airs every Monday night on TV Land from 9 p.m. to 11 p.m.