Stand-up comedian Dave Attell is 39 and balding. He sports a perpetual 11 o’clock shadow and a sizeable beer gut that peeks out from his short-sleeve button-down shirts. From all outward appearances, he’s more a last-call casualty than party-time hero.

Funny thing, though, when Attell enters a bar almost anywhere, he’s guaranteed to be swarmed by college students and barflies, plying him with free shots.

They’re making offerings to their late-night party idol.

It’s all thanks to “Insomniac,” Attell’s 30-minute show on cable channel Comedy Central, in which the comedian plays an off-the-cuff, down-the-hatch commentator cruising the alcohol-fueled nightlife of cities throughout the world. (He profiled the Valley in the show’s second season.) The series earned odd critical praise, proclaiming Attell the next Charles Kuralt — albeit Charles Kuralt with a beer bong.

“Insomniac” ran four seasons, pulling in a large college-age fan following, and though the show lives on in cable reruns and on DVD, last year Attell decided to slow production down to a few one-hour specials a year for the comedy network. The next is “Insomniac” in Tokyo, which is scheduled to air Aug. 22.

Without the regular series, he took on other projects, like releasing a live comedy CD, “Skanks for the Memories,” and went on a cross-
country theater tour with fellow Comedy Central cult hero Lewis Black (from “The Daily Show with Jon Stewart”), which stopped into Phoenix’s Dodge Theatre in November.

Still, Attell says, he’s a stand-up comic foremost, and the intimate comedy club — not a 1,600-seat theater — is his home. This weekend, he returns to the Tempe Improv for a four-night, six-show stint with new material. Recently, Get Out phoned the comic at his Manhattan home to talk about his career, the “Insomniac” hangover and why he won’t be the next Seinfeld:

Get Out: The tour with Lewis Black was just gangbusters for you. Did that change your attitude toward working theaters?

Attell: I learned important lessons by doing that — I learned I need another guy to sell out a theater. It’s just a different ballgame. In a club, you have other stuff to work with, people are drinking ... But in a theater, people are paying top dollar and they want to see a quality show. It’s hard when you’re a hack.

GO: Tell me about deciding to limit “Insomniac.”

Attell: It was hard. The word was out on the street by the fourth season. It became this big, kind of, what it wasn’t supposed to be. It was supposed to be me wandering around with my (film) crew, but it became this drunk “American Idol” audition. I wanted to get away from that for a while. I just got back from Germany. When you go overseas, nobody knows who I am, so that’s good. And Germany, let’s face it, it’s a serious place. In Germany, you really drink to forget, because there isn’t anything good to remember. The next one is Tokyo, and don’t give me any (expletive) for it, but they’ve called it “Lushed in Translation” or something like that. That’s their hook.

GO: You’ve talked about how you can’t go into a bar now without frat boys buying you drinks.

Attell: Yeah, it’s a lot of shot-buying and a lot of, “Hey, dude, you have my job.” I’m not really that person, I never wanted to be recognized. I’m all about getting drunk and looking for whores, but it’s not everything I wanted to do. But it’s a good problem to have. I think it’ll eventually wear off. Because, after all, I’m a one-note wonder.

GO: You’re off the tour, and now doing some club dates.

Attell: I’m doing a tour called Paying Off My House. I love doing the clubs. I’d like to do some other theater stuff, but I don’t think just because I did it with Lewis I have to do it every time. The clubs are where I live and where I come up with new material.

GO: After all this success, what have your agents and managers been telling you to do? Any sitcoms? I can’t imagine you the hapless but lovable father. Maybe the creepy uncle ...

Attell: Yeah. Every agent and manager, they want you to be the next Seinfeld, ’cause that’s where the money is. But my agents and managers all know I’m not talented. If I could act ... Maybe if I could take some acting lessons. Again.

GO: Because you’ve become this late-night icon for so many folks, is there a lesson you’d like them to learn from you, Dave?
Attell: A late-night icon? Well, the advice is, when you see me, use me as a role model of what not to do. I’m a man in my late 30s who still wears Wrangler jeans, breaking many fashion rules.