So, Tuesday is Trivia night. It just is. I go, I yell out answers to questions the part-time comedian/part-time journalist/part-time trivia host asks and often times, my friends and I get free drinks or, God Willing, cash. The host asked us out to an open mic night at a local place where he was going to perform. A friend and I said we'd go.
I've kept a scrolling list of standup bits for years. Something hits, I'll write it down and email it to myself so I have a record of it. Last night, I started listening to the local amateurs (no judgment with the term; just fact; they ain't being paid) and I got the itch. But like Luke with his targeting computer, I turned off my phone. Most of getting comedy across is the delivery and style, moreso often than the words. That's what I was getting from listening to the guys read off their notes. And earlier in the day I'd listened to a podcast where Louis CK extolled the virtues of winging it.
So on the fly, I came up with an angle, and I wrote it down, and I wanted it real so I'd remember it without having to read it much (because reading kills it) and slugged a few beers and asked the guy to let me go on. I got to go on last. The host introduced me as a "first time comedian." So the recording starts after that.
Below, I'll type out the transcript of what I wrote, and I'll attach the mp3 of what I actually said (look, I pay all this money for this damn phone, so you're damn right I recorded my first attempt).
The audience was encouraging or at least not pissy (which would be weird since open mic means they all want to succeed and see others succeed, but I wouldn't say they felt I revolutionized comedy). Since my wheelhouse is that uncomfortable place of "that's either rude/depressing/angry or hysterical" and I start by going after the audience (people trying to be comedians) about their jobs, I think the smattering of applause when I hit the required beats are about right.
Whatever. I'm hysterical.
_____________________________________________________________
What I meant to say/what I wrote down (NSFW):
"I'm not going to be a comedian. I can't be. It's fine. I'm cool with it. It is what it is. You know how I know?
Comedians work food and bev, retail or some "clearly I'm biding my time til my stadium tour" bullshit job. "I host trivia!"
I work a job. Like, a career. And, holy fuck, it's not even my first career. I have a gay man bullseye on my face and I was in the Army. But, I want to be clear, I didn't stab babies in the face, or anything like that.
Not. NOT that I was against that, but because I was an officer. I had other people do the "distasteful" stuff. But that kinda sucked.
Which is weird. Because growing up, until people could do them back at me, I thought explosions. were. awesome!
"FIRE! God, I have such a boner right now! AMERICA!"
But then it was
"IED! Fuck you! You shit yourself too! Do I still have my dick? Praise Jesus! I want my mom..."
But now I work an office job. I sit at a cubicle. You can't be funny doing that shit. There's no escape. When shit is bad and your boss sucks, you laugh, because laughter's the best medicine, but years with no escape and it's not funny.
It's depressing and your soul dies and you just rage. But you rage and you'll get fired.
And I'm not funny at work.
But, and this is key, people, office drone "I'm excited about shopping on Thanksgiving" fuckwad assholes aren't funny either.
However, and this is my saving grace, they have TVs and they know the sound of someone trying to be funny. "Bah, dah-dah-dah-dah bah!" and then wait for the laugh...which, frankly, is fucking weird in any other context.
But whatever. Normal people are polite and don't want to admit they don't get it and they want to fit in.
When I started this career, the mundane horror was funny and I did that and what I said, regardless of what I said, I said the "funny" way and so they laughed and I became the office "funny guy."
Which, thank God, because now I'm dead on the inside and drunk most of the time and I say hateful shit...and they LOVE it.
Like I'm a deadpan absurdist.
"Gail, if you don't fill the coffeemaker again, I will burn your house down and fuckstart your face."
"Oh, you rascal!" she laughs.
"Bob...Bob...Just...fuck off..."
"Oh ho! That boy's going places!" Bob says, delighted.
"Yeah," I respond, "the bar"
"Ha!" he chortles.
"And then over to your house to fuck your fat wife."
"Ho boy! What a joker."
I've kept a scrolling list of standup bits for years. Something hits, I'll write it down and email it to myself so I have a record of it. Last night, I started listening to the local amateurs (no judgment with the term; just fact; they ain't being paid) and I got the itch. But like Luke with his targeting computer, I turned off my phone. Most of getting comedy across is the delivery and style, moreso often than the words. That's what I was getting from listening to the guys read off their notes. And earlier in the day I'd listened to a podcast where Louis CK extolled the virtues of winging it.
So on the fly, I came up with an angle, and I wrote it down, and I wanted it real so I'd remember it without having to read it much (because reading kills it) and slugged a few beers and asked the guy to let me go on. I got to go on last. The host introduced me as a "first time comedian." So the recording starts after that.
Below, I'll type out the transcript of what I wrote, and I'll attach the mp3 of what I actually said (look, I pay all this money for this damn phone, so you're damn right I recorded my first attempt).
The audience was encouraging or at least not pissy (which would be weird since open mic means they all want to succeed and see others succeed, but I wouldn't say they felt I revolutionized comedy). Since my wheelhouse is that uncomfortable place of "that's either rude/depressing/angry or hysterical" and I start by going after the audience (people trying to be comedians) about their jobs, I think the smattering of applause when I hit the required beats are about right.
Whatever. I'm hysterical.
_____________________________________________________________
What I meant to say/what I wrote down (NSFW):
"I'm not going to be a comedian. I can't be. It's fine. I'm cool with it. It is what it is. You know how I know?
Comedians work food and bev, retail or some "clearly I'm biding my time til my stadium tour" bullshit job. "I host trivia!"
I work a job. Like, a career. And, holy fuck, it's not even my first career. I have a gay man bullseye on my face and I was in the Army. But, I want to be clear, I didn't stab babies in the face, or anything like that.
Not. NOT that I was against that, but because I was an officer. I had other people do the "distasteful" stuff. But that kinda sucked.
Which is weird. Because growing up, until people could do them back at me, I thought explosions. were. awesome!
"FIRE! God, I have such a boner right now! AMERICA!"
But then it was
"IED! Fuck you! You shit yourself too! Do I still have my dick? Praise Jesus! I want my mom..."
But now I work an office job. I sit at a cubicle. You can't be funny doing that shit. There's no escape. When shit is bad and your boss sucks, you laugh, because laughter's the best medicine, but years with no escape and it's not funny.
It's depressing and your soul dies and you just rage. But you rage and you'll get fired.
And I'm not funny at work.
But, and this is key, people, office drone "I'm excited about shopping on Thanksgiving" fuckwad assholes aren't funny either.
However, and this is my saving grace, they have TVs and they know the sound of someone trying to be funny. "Bah, dah-dah-dah-dah bah!" and then wait for the laugh...which, frankly, is fucking weird in any other context.
But whatever. Normal people are polite and don't want to admit they don't get it and they want to fit in.
When I started this career, the mundane horror was funny and I did that and what I said, regardless of what I said, I said the "funny" way and so they laughed and I became the office "funny guy."
Which, thank God, because now I'm dead on the inside and drunk most of the time and I say hateful shit...and they LOVE it.
Like I'm a deadpan absurdist.
"Gail, if you don't fill the coffeemaker again, I will burn your house down and fuckstart your face."
"Oh, you rascal!" she laughs.
"Bob...Bob...Just...fuck off..."
"Oh ho! That boy's going places!" Bob says, delighted.
"Yeah," I respond, "the bar"
"Ha!" he chortles.
"And then over to your house to fuck your fat wife."
"Ho boy! What a joker."
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