The bum that sits on Third Avenue near my building says that Rudy Guiliani is Hitler.
“Has there ever been another Hitler? Guiliani is the only Hitler I know!”
How did this bum get to meet the mayor when I still haven’t seen him yet?
Archive for March, 2007
1. There’s a restaurant in the East Village called Pie by the Pound. I can eat it by the pound, but I’ve never ordered it that way. YUM!
2. “Fuck! There’s a Tasti D-Lite right there!” we learned as we walked to the Loew’s on Second Avenue to see Reno 911: Miami. (It was good!)
3. Fun quiz question: What did Kat do on Sunday?
a. See the play, Avenue Q. (That was good too!)
b. Churn my own peanut butter at the Bloomberg office.
c. Get elbowed in the tit by a guy with nothing better to do than stand by my subway car for
10 minutes and yell obscenities at me for being upset about it.
d. All of the above.
We had our last-last-LAST comedy class on Monday. Andy, the man in charge, gave us all kinds of info on clubs, formats, and what not to do if you want to make it in the tempestuous world of comedy. It was highly suggested that we refrain from doing open-mics, or at least be wary of them. So of course, the very next evening, I found myself on the lower level of Maui Taco listening to some guy’s dick jokes.
Andy had me prepared for the worst. Open mics tend to be full of comics just looking for a chance to get onstage, and most of them are bad. Really. Really. Bad.
But a friend of mine from class wanted to go to this, and the venue was less than three blocks away. I’m also not working and have little better to do at home, so I went out, not even expecting to perform. I wanted to support my friend, and I need to make a point of leaving the house at least once a day, even though I usually end up frustrated and/or uncomfortable.
When I got there, I met two guys from my class, one of their friends, a very young guy, and dude whose laugh goes like this, “HA.” Before the show began, I met the emcee who called me “Meg” less than five minutes after we exchanged greetings. Not exactly a schmoozer, eh? I called him on it and he was appropriately embarrassed. He was a pretty nice guy all around. His jokes were funny, but in more of a thoughtful, interesting way that would reflect better in print than in speech. His girlfriend came a little later to support him and she seemed pretty laid back. Gus came a little later too, as I had signed him up and made the compelling argument that I would be there. I probably didn’t even have to sign him up at the designated time, since people were coming and going a lot that night.
The first person to go on was terrible. I don’t care if he somehow finds this and reads it and knows I’m talking about him. It was really the worst display of public oration I’ve seen in my life. The guy was about 50 and he just stood there for 10 minutes shooting off a bunch of shitty one-liners that he either wrote or lifted off of someone else 10 years ago. He was trying to be shocking with his sexual overtures and wife-killing daydreams, but it wasn’t funny or even interesting. His emphatic speech and gestures were stiff, maniacal at best. I sat there and cringed through the whole performance, beginning to feel angry that I’d left my warm bed and walked three blocks in the cold less than an hour ago so I could go there and see that.
I haven’t gotten to the most disgusting, offensive part yet. This guy performed at three open-mics that night. THREE. He had been to one, performed (poorly) at this one, and left early so he could go to the last one, no doubt performing the same horrible shit each time. It’s shit like this that makes me think, Why bother? He was like the Hitler of comedy, annhilating anything that could possibly be funny. Someone should really stop him.
I think he was introduced as having been doing comedy for 20 years or something. One of the guys who performed later said, “I’ve been doing comedy for nine weeks and I’m pretty sure I’m more successful than that guy.” I’m glad he said it so I didn’t have to. But I guess I just did. Oh well.
Everyone after Hitler did a good job. I even went on stage because the crowd was small and I felt comfortable enough after a few more people did their routines. I think I actually did a better job this time around than I did at my videotaped performance at Caroline’s. Perhaps it would have been wise to practice at a few open mics before baring it all in front of the bright lights and crowds of people. My classmates afterward all agreed that it felt like the best high ever, but to me, it was like one more thing I plowed through and finished. Anyway, this time was better. The feeling of being onstage was the same, but I had concentrated more on what I was going to say and delivered it better.
We also met another couple from Austin there. They came late and headed to another open-mic night at The Pit when ours was over. They were a little younger than us, and funny, and I hope we see them again because I want some compadres.
So even though comedy guru Andy feels differently, I think it’s essential that I go to a few open-mics to hone my showmanship skills before I invest in a big performance. Oh, writing a few new jokes might help matters too.
“How did your comedy show go?” everyone asks. “Thank God it’s over,” I reply.
My first show, although a lot of fun, did not go as smoothly as I had hoped. To sum it up, Gus absolutely killed and I forgot my jokes. But in general, our class did well and I enjoyed watching everyone perform for a large audience.
I was thinking about posting my jokes on here, but I’m probably going to use them again at an open-mic somewhere. It would be cool if Gus and I could hit one when we go back to Austin (he in a week, me in a few weeks) to perform for our friends that couldn’t make it up here. I think I’ll be able to put on a better show once my mind is clear and I can watch my tape to see what needs improvement.
I had been under some unnecessary stress (but in the end, isn’t it all unnecessary?) about my car during the week prior to my show, which I think contributed to my uninspiring performance. Mind being elsewhere, I didn’t memorize everything I was going to say, so I ended up tripping over some of my words. This made some of my punchlines muddled or harder to understand than they needed to be. I pretty much nailed down my routine in the bathroom before the show started, but I knew my confidence and stage presence weren’t quite where they needed to be. That spills over into other areas, unfortunately, like speech.
Worst thing ever: I just plain forgot my last joke. That was probably the worst feeling I ever had in my life. Laughter died down, time’s almost up, and I am absolutely speechless. Ugh! I also fucked up my opener. The two most important things in a comedy bit are a strong, defining opener and a crazy-good closer. Damn. I need to do this again, not because I think I’m anything great, but just to show myself that I can do this without fucking up!
I think most of my jokes were good (or at least had a good premise to work from), but I may need to rewrite them so I can deliver them with more punch. As Colin Quinn has shown us, the joke isn’t funny if you can’t spit it out with some panache.
But at least I got to be a total attention whore for five minutes and no one hated me for it afterward. I also met a big group of fabulous people, who I’m looking forward to supporting at future shows around town. This was a good experience, and I learned some stuff.
Velveeta Room, anyone?