March 7th, 2011. Show numero uno is Motel Luca. (Ok, so I took Sunday off. There was an awards ceremony for the festival I was just in, and this marked my last chance to get my baby-dyke light designer drunk before she heads to Philly and her stupid girlfriend who is not me. Diet starts Monday!)
Luca is a great mic, and I had been there before, so I knew it wasn't going to be total weird-o-ville, though it did force me to face one of my worst fears head on--that fear, of course, being, interacting with other comics. An audience of thousands pales in comparison to an audience of five to fifteen bored comics, not to mention the pain and agony that is a one on one conversation with a comedian. There are exceptions to this rule, but without my bedazzles and costumes, I am not a particularly social bug to begin with, and this boys club freaked me the fuck out. I stood outside the bar texting for a while thinking of excuses, until I had sent my last "perhaps I should have gone to grad school" text out into the tele-universe, and forced my oh so unwilling self to go in, order a stupid glass of wine (which gave me heartburn. I think I may have an ulcer, but that's neither here nor there.) (Seriously, though, does red wine often give people heartburn? I'm freakin 27, why do I have heartburn.) I brainstormed my face off as to what jokes to tell and way over prepared for what was, in the end, four and half minutes and about one and a half of the eleven bits I had written down in my little comic notebook. Still, I didn't eat shit, I tried out some new stuff and left feeling perfectly lackluster. Could be worse. I could be Mario Lopez.
The next day a friend had booked me on her show which takes place in the back of a restaurant. The show was canceled on account of absolutely no one showed up, so I went to see a friend's play about breast cancer with my ex, who also used to have breast cancer. Welcome to the big time.
The night was not lost, however, as show numero dos came in the way of Penny's Open Mic.
I have been a regular here for eons, though almost never do stand-up. I tend to sing or, yeah, usually I sing. This made me face another of my biggest fears, which is doing repeat material in front of people who already know large portions of my body of work. A huge part of me feels like I should be constantly creating, never the same show twice! But one of the big points of this is to work on material, to boil it down until all that is left is the funny, none of the fat (stress-a-rexia, here I come) so time to get over that. Always a loving crowd, and my breast cancer friend(s) were both in attendance, so I pulled out my chemo material and killed. Er... didn't kill. Ugh. Wordplay.
It should also be noted that I heavily considered sleeping with one of my exes on this eve, but cooler heads (and also the fact that she has a job in New Jersey) prevailed and I, like a true comic, went home alone.
Wednesday I had a promotional modeling gig and got paid to stand in one place all night, which was awesome. I will say, however, that it was a benefit for The Humane Society and a shocking number of patrons entered adorned in their finest furs, and I'm not talking poodle. If I had been getting paid to talk, I would have some things to say, let me tell you. The night also featured a guest appearance by a Broadway actress currently appearing in "Catch Me If You Can," who inspired me to never wear a bedazzled unitard to a charity event once I have passed the age of 40, nor to title my upcoming album "Sass," nor to dance Fosse choreography while audibly gasping for air into a microphone in front of a medium sized group of subdued party guests ever. Before her performance, I wouldn't have put any of that past me, so good life lesson to learn.
I also made my way to the venue of my old Monday night show and fought (successfully) to get my Mondays back, so victory! I also broke a fever and almost passed out, and think I want to get nose surgery because I think I have an overly abundant proclivity for sinus infections. I also may be a hypochondreac... and a horrible speller. What? One thing at a time.
Show numero tres would have to wait for my dear friend Noah's new Thursday mic, The F*&king Free Mic, which went insanely well. So well, in fact, I had a fleeting sensation of, "this may not be so bad after all." My dear friend, John Murdock, was at my side, which helped. We had the two non-comic bar patrons rolling, and I made a vow not to do material about being at open mics. I am here to work out material for the big time, not to be able to kill at an open mic.
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