Comedian Alex Reymundo often sees double. When he isn’t shooting specials for Showtime and Comedy Central, he is busy running Number Juan, a tequila company he owns with his best friend, brother-in-law and fellow comedian Ron White. “I think the world would be a better place,” he said, “if everyone had a tequila and a smile.” Reymundo headlines The Caravan this week.
LEO: Having grown up in Texas and now living in Kentucky, what do you see as the big differences in day-to-day life?
Alex Reymundo: Hills, trees, water, flowers. I always say that Texas is like my first girlfriend, flat and brown. It has a place in my heart, but it ain’t too pretty. The big difference is the landscape. To this day, when I’m flying back here, I always get a little bit giddy right before the plane lands. I love the Southern people. I lived in LA for years, and I almost got used to people not saying ‘hello’ or ‘thank you.’ They’re just too busy. I love the speed people move here.
Tequila or bourbon?
It’s tequila for me. Tequila is my heart. I love it. Don’t get me wrong — I do love bourbon, but I’m a tequila guy. It’s my everything. What was it, everyone should have a Coke and a smile? I think the world would be a better place if everyone had a tequila and a smile.
You’re working on material for a new special. So, what’s been on your mind, lately?
I’m getting old. It’s funny — I still feel 7 years old, but I’m not. I hope this doesn’t come out wrong, but I’m also watching my wife age, and I love it. I love her even more. I’ve started calling her Granny Clampett. She’s got the same tiny, little frame as her, and I’ve always told her that she would look like Granny Clampett one day. She doesn’t yet! Then, I realized the other day, I was somewhat attracted to Granny Clampett back in the day. I loved her. I loved her tenacity. I loved her sense of humor. And, I don’t know, maybe it was that old prairie skirt she used to wear that got me going. Maybe I should get her a burlap sack and see if we could have some fun. But yeah, I’m getting older. I talk about my kids — they’re 16 and 20 — I’ll just leave it there. Somehow, I love them still.
Does your family ever get embarrassed at stuff you say onstage?
I guess we’ll find out in therapy. I get to say what I want, and they get to eat.
What would you call your autobiography?
I think it would be ‘The Party Ain’t Over.’ I really take the party seriously. My dedication to the party is relentless and sincere. I mean, the overarching, oblivion aspect of the party. The fun part. When I was 16, my mom had that ‘what are you going to do with your life?’ talk with me. I had this epiphany. … I told her, ‘Mom, if I could figure out a way to party for the rest of my life, I think I’d be the best one at it.’ I wish you could see the look that was on her face. Like any mother would be, she was deeply concerned about the words that just came out of my mouth. I didn’t mean getting fucked up all of the time. I take it seriously. When we had parties, everyone said mine were just more fun. I knew how to energize people and get them talking and feeling comfortable. …
Would you let your kids read it?
Absolutely. I’ve never been afraid to let my kids know the things that I’ve done. I’ve never been the guy who was falling over drunk. I’ve made some bad choices. But that’s where experience comes from, and I want my kids to experience life for themselves. I’m not afraid of them seeing how I gained what experience I have. There are a few things I wish I could shelter them from, sure — but life’s messy sometimes, and you can’t protect them from that. So, what the hell? •
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