Comedy Etc.

This weekend was a good weekend. My first night didn't look so good. It was like being at a party where you meet someone who seems nice but as you talk you have nothing in common. When most NYC comics come across this, they figure it's a gig and they get in and get out, happy they are still alive to tell the tale and laugh it off later. After stepping off the stage I figured they were nice at least, but these werent my people.

However, luck would soon change. The club owner who's also a comic, one who has headlined in Vegas, and does so twice a year, had some things to say. One being, "Things better be different tomorrow night."

Usually when a club owner gives feedback one shrugs and says whatever, or it's good. It all depends on the club owner. At first in my mind I was like, "Whatever, I've been on TV." It's a craptacular attitude to have albeit an egotistical one, but it has kept me going as my life has unraveled the last few months.

However, within seconds my attitude changed once it was revealed he had been doing comedy for 25 years, nearly as long as I had been alive. During some of that time, he also taught comedy and mentored comedians quite a bit. Oh, and he had just returned from a headlining engagement in Vegas. During our talk, he mentioned Abbot and Costello, something my mentor always cites as an example of what a vent act should be. And then he also mentioned he liked the Mr. Okay concept and used Defending the Caveman as an example. (The longest running Broadway show on The Las Vegas Strip). Yes, another show my mentor is very heavily involved with. Something in me, that part that sometimes has a good idea, said, "Don't be your asshole self and listen to this man."

He worked with me for quite a while the next day on my act and had some excellent suggestions. I tried them the following night and it was like NIGHT AND DAY. Even the waitstaff of the club was like WTF?!!?!?

I was talking with the headliner who told me it was good I took suggestions, good I listened. In the end I figure why not? The worst that happens is someone's suggestions don't work and I move on. Or they do and I am better because of it. Either way, I was very happy with the second night and now know what to do to go to the next level with my comedy.

Our headliner who was in several movies has been doing comedy since before I was born I think. Actually, yeah he has. Either way, he was what the owner referred to as a 10 on the scale of funny and headlining. The way this man closed out a show was amazing. I'll admit I pale in comparison, but he has made himself so funny that he's impossible to follow as all closers should be.

At the same time, he's been doing comedy longer than I have been alive. It was amazing how he could just make the room do what he wanted, and didn't sweat about being liked. A lot of comedians do that. Yeah, I am trying to do it less, but when the audience doesn't give me what I want I panic. I go for the cheap laugh. The club owner as he was working with me said don't go for the cheap laugh.........but it's so easy when you aren't getting what you want. I think most comics do it out of fear. Actually, we all do it out of fear. But this headliner, it seemed as if that fear was gone. Maybe it was because he didn't care, that's why he just killed it so easily.

Another comic who partners at the club is also a touring headliner, however, he didn't headline that night but rather stepped in because the club owner was doing a spot elsewhere. He revealed he had been doing comedy for a mere 20 years in comparison to the club owner's 25 and the headliner's 32. We had a conversation about wanting to be liked onstage, and he said the most important thing was to have fun. If you had fun the audience would have fun. And the audience, they are on your side. They want you to do well. How hard that is to remember when you are onstage. But they are on your side......and we both agreed yeah, again, it is hard to remember sometimes.

The fellow who booked the gig has also been involved with comedy for sometime. Maybe not as long as I have been alive but since the 80s. While never a comic himself and always on the booking end, he is an eternal student of comedy and has even hung out at clubs just for the hell of it because he likes being around comedy. When he takes notes at a showcase, he goes joke by joke writing everything down. I know because he has done so for me in the past. Very thorough, he tells you what works, what doesn't and why. His feedback has never failed me. Translated, just like the club owner, the headliner, and the other partner in the operation, he knows his shit.

This whole weekend, my mentor in Vegas was there for emotional support. Of course he's managed some top grossing variety acts who have been on every major TV program ever. And he is actively involved in the Vegas scene, and his people play Caesar's Palace among other places. It is safe to say he's been involved in show business longer than I have been around. Mind you he started his life as a magician touring college campuses and evolved into managing. As I was bitching about all that was happening, he says, "It's called growing pains. That's all."

Eh. Growing pains. Eh. Then again, he's probably also thinking that I'm a little over a decade in, oh poor kid, she's only ten years old........

I guess the point is, you are always still learning and growing. And sometimes it is best just to listen to people with more time at something, because they might know something you don't. Actually, most of the time they know something you don't. Bottom line, you only know what you know when you are supposed to know it. Am I a better comic and ventriloquist than I was years ago? Probably. Still, it's amazing how much I still don't know after all this time.

However, I am also learning to embrace the knowledge and experience of those that do know. It's cool to get to work with those people. It's cool that they were so gracious to guide me. The club owner mentioned that others had done the same for him........like Mitch Hedberg (RIP).

My landlord mentioned the same is true with life, you are never an expert and you are always learning something new. Mind you, he always understands where my parents are coming from being one himself. Yeah, he's got more time on this planet which comes in handy sometimes. It's life.

Comedy is about being real. It's about life. It's about telling the truth. It's about reaching people. Fake doesn't sell. How soon we all forget. Or maybe we don't realize until we are supposed to. Shit this was deep.

Either way, my problems are now I need to perfect my act to go to the next level. I need to purchase a stand for my puppets like the one the club had on hand this weekend that MADE ALL THE DIFFERENCE IN THE WORLD and suggested I use. I need to stop saying the f word onstage. I also need to talk slower. Oh, and I got rid of a really hack stupid bit I leaned too heavily on that was just cheap. Go team!

As opposed to a few months ago when I was being eaten alive by bed bugs and the mold in my place made breathing difficult. Not to mention when I complained my landlord retaliated by trying to evict me. My hair was also falling out because of the chemicals, stress, and other issues involving my living situation. I was in court or a lawyer's office at least once a week. Then when my landlord tried to burn down my apartment I was told by the cops to find somewhere safe, and had to move under duress. Once I moved the doctor's thought I might have uterine cancer because of the way my tests came back.

These days my problems are having my act be funny onstage, and how to make that happen, being the headliner who can reach all audiences like a Jeff Dunham. (The booker mentioned he was the most watched Comedy Central Special of all time). Heck, my sister in law and 13 year old cousin both love him. I can focus on what's important, and that's what I do onstage.

Maybe at times I am guilty of becoming embittered and beaten down by the politics, or resting on the laurels of the successes I have gotten so far, refusing to grow. Both are the wrong way to go because they warp your perspective. I can say that for all the hell I have been through in recent months, for the first time in forever I really and truly love comedy again. I love it. I love it. I love it. I will scream it I LOVE IT!!!!!!

(Of course all those I encountered this weekend have probably had similar feelings to mine at times)

And if it took walking through hell to get me to this feeling and a rough first night in the middle of no where complete with pinched nerve in my neck, I will do it again. Watch me, I'm unstoppable. But first I need to take a shower because I don't want to be unstoppable for all the wrong reasons.

I'll be here all week. Try the veal.

Stepping Up My Standup

This past Sunday I did a show. It was one that could have been a disaster because it was Oscar night. However I was pleasantly surprised. Not only was it awesome, but all the comedians brought their game. The energy in the place was electric, and everyone stayed to support everyone else. Yes the place wasnt filled, but it was still fun. I hadn't been onstage in about a month. In between a short film, plus my audiobook, plus mapping my musical, and telegram season getting busy I havent had a moment to breathe.

Not to mention there has been some stuff that has happened in standup with me that was terrible with a shitty club system. I won't go into it. It's like the scene in Death Becomes Her with Goldie Hawn where she is in group therapy during the fat cat lady thing she does where she says, "I would like to talk about Madeline Ashton." And then everyone goes, "NOOOOO!!!!"

Bottom line, I want to step up my standup. I don't know how I am going to do it but I am. Originally I hoped after the shit club system and I fell out that an A list club would scoop me up because of my exposure and the fact people knew me and my puppet children but it didn't happen. Probably because I wasn't a man. "Madeline Ashton.....NOOOOO!!!!"

Anyway, I want to step up my standup and I don't know what is next. I am certainly not going to that shit club system again. There are two other additional clubs I refuse to deal with. I am past the stage where I bring. I have more TV credits than the (male) headliner. I want A Club or no duce. I know I will get there and it has to be soon.

Either way I had a good set Sunday but as always I could do better. I want to write more and I want to step up my game. I don't know how I will, but I will. I think I need to put my ego aside and just humble up. But I have done too much to be treated like crap. Either way, I want to step up my game and I don't know how. I would go to a comedy class but I know more than everyone their and the teachers for the most part. I would have a private writing session with a so called coach but I tried that once and it was an epic failure. I would go to an open mic but I am at the point where I waste my money, get nothing done because everyone cracks inside jokes, and then at least once a mic someone tries to start sit with me because I have been on TV. Sometimes they start with me mid-set. Plus I am much too famous to pay for stage time.

I don't know what is next but I want to step up my standup. I don't know how. Things are complicated right now. I know I have my friends, fans, God, and my puppet children. The answers will present themselves in time I know. I just have to be patient and listen to the universe.

Love
April

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

Available as a paperback on 877-Buy-Book, Amazon.com

Available as an ebook on Nook and Kindle

Audiobook available on itunes in Spring 2013

Portion of proceeds go to RAINN

Does Stage Time Really Matter

Since my book and everything, I really havent been getting onstage. Plus since a bunch of things happened that I wont go into because I am sick of writing about them and everyone is sick of hearing about them,my club dates have been cut in half. Okay, whatever. But since my book people want me onstage and stuff.

Since everything with the TV show I did some open mics, but for the most part found I was no longer welcome in my own community. When you are a dumb woman with no ambition thats content to go no where it seems the comedy world in NYC wants to make sweet love to you. But when you get ambition and want to do things, they view you as a traitor. It's almost like how dare ye have goals. Seriously. So when this all went down the mics werent as safe for me. I was dealing with people who gave me the silent treatment onstage not so much as feedback but because they were pissed with what I was supposedly doing. Then there were the people who werent so silent about what I was doing and gave me shit to my face. A few people tried to fight with me. One was even posting about my open mic sets on a well trafficked gossip site. Essentially I couldn't get honest feedback and wasn't safe. Plus I was wasting my money.

On the flipside, my live show were awesome. Probably because I viewed getting onstage as a treat rather than the chore it had become in the hellish post I held as open mic host, the countless terrible check spots and other things I did, and the road gigs for the red necked bikers where despite getting dough I always burned it on travel. Plus because my puppet children and I were on the tele everyone wanted photos. So stage time became more about the excuse to see my fans rather than to be funny.

In a way it's terrible but it is what it is.

Here's the thing, I am in between a rock and a hard place. Since I want to start doing spots again I dont know whether or not to even bother with the mics.I have a list of impressive TV credits and have been around. I know what to do onstage. Plus at an open mic you seem to regress and get nothing done most of the time. And you have to pay for stage time.

On the otherhand I am not getting up as much and in some ways I feel rusty. I feel out of place and it makes me sad. Plus getting onstage even if it is a mic keeps me out of trouble. It keeps that devilish sense of humor in check, it keeps my head on my shoulders, and keeps me humble. Plus it's a chance to run through old stuff and get new stuff on it's feet.

Still I have been onstage more lately than I have in some time and seem to be getting nothing done. In my experience too, I have seen peeps bust their ass to get onstage but they still don't have it.

Then peeps who really dont but constantly kill.

So does stage time matter? Should I get up and run through my stuff or practice my tried and true fifteen in my room.Hmmm LOVe, April

I Came,I Saw,I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl

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www.buybooksontheweb.com

Dropping the Rock-MAYBE or MAYBE NOT

I have a love/hate relationship with Queens. Sometimes I love getting out of Manhattan into my friend's apartments who have more space for less rent. I even considered moving out there at one point. It would be a great way to live on my own without the annoyance of paying too much or dealing with the rat race foot traffic. But here's the thing, the TRAINS FUCKING SUCK WHEN THEY ARE DOWN AND IT IS A MAZE TO GET THERE AND TO GET AROUND. THERE IS 34 TH STREET, 34TH ROAD, 34TH AVE AND IF YOUR TURN THE WRONG WAY YOU HAVE TO TURN AROUND AND AROUND AND IT SUCKS AND CAN BE LIKE A MAZE!!!!!!! Every borough has it's downside. With the Bronx it's the fact everything is so far away. With Staten Island it's the fact there is no subway aside from the Staten Island Railroad which they build and said, "Ah, we quit," halfway through the project. Brooklyn has a nasty washed up reality star I once made the mistake of dating and the crazed alcoholic welfare abusing father of a former ex of mine. Is there a free lunch anywhere?

Yes my feet got wet in the rain. My friend was cool and made me coffee though.

I ended up leaving Queens and getting a Ruben and coffee. Odd combo I know. I fumed over the fact I am returning to the venue this week that I put on TV and they had the nerve to fucking fire me from my own mic without telling me as a thank you. I know when I bitch I don't look good. I know when I hold a resentment I am not happy. It's just that I know they are shitty people. Ordinarily, I would have told them I have lots to do, like my grandpa has heart disease and he is dying. It's partially true, that grandfather did have heart disease and he died nearly forty one years ago this month. I could tell them the funeral is at the last minute. The only reason I am bothering is that this is a chance to do a headliner show and a chance to sell my book. I wouldn't give a damn about it being a headliner show except I get to sell my damn book. My book, my book, my book.

I guess after all this time it still hurts that I worked so hard for them and they did what they did. And then their in house cronies spread nasty rumors about me. In a lot of ways I am glad I never moved up the ladder there,otherwise I would be pathetically wandering there everything damned to repeat the same tortured existence. Hell, twenty years later I would still be there. Still, I have a huge chip on my shoulder about what happened and for as much as I pray and ask God to remove it He just doesn't. I attribute it to the fact that the help is going to the orphans with AIDS.

Since then my dreams have changed too. I really don't care about being respected by certain comedy circles like I used to. Hell, I really don't care about being a respected comedian. There are a lot of people wandering, doing the same damn thing, plus television has killed the art form. Then lots of the pro comics are bitter and beat to shit from long nights and years of chasing the pipe dream that doesnt materialize. You hear them talk and make up lies about women in the business who make it performing sexual favors because it boosts their male ego. I guess I wonder why they just dont quit? Work a forklift, paint houses, donate to PBS.

In many ways I have moved on not only appearing on TV more than any of those morons that are regulars at that club will ever in their lackluster careers but also having songs that were hits on the internet and even writing a book that is getting some nice press. I have even spoken to people about turning it into a musical or screenplay. Did I mention I had a series that almost got picked up by a fucking network this year and a film I was in is going to festivals?!?!?!

The truth remains though, what went down still hurts. I could list my fucking accomplishments all day long and know I already have a better career than most of the alumni of Last Comic Standing these days. (The show where you had to have the least amount of talent to qualify and even less to win. Yes, they gave me a good clip. Thank God I didnt become a contestant). But again, what went down still fucking hurts and I have a huge assed chip on my shoulder. Maybe it's because for so freaking long this was such a big part of my identity. Every night was getting onstage, and every weekend was being on the road to perform. So much of me was tied into this,and when this all went down it was worse than having my heart broken. There have been times this year that I have found myself crying because I don't perform as much as I used to.

I know this whole thing is me being called home. It goes with being a have to. As in I have to do this, there is no other way. The universe is telling me there is no choice. But in someways I am fighting it. There is no way I can ever flourish as a woman and feel safe in that world. But when it isn't in my life I feel empty, sad, play devilish pranks on people,and write my dead friends notes on facebook. It's a mess. LOL

On the other hand I have been getting stage time again and it has been interesting. It seems the Gods are laughing at me. Went up Wednesday at an open mic where there was just so much chaos and I was the last up. Nothing got done really. I should have stayed the fuck home. Thursday I did an open mic in Coney and somethings almost got done. I got up and riffed and actually did rather well on my riffs. It felt good to be up onstage again. Plus I got some laughs from the three people there. Tonight was a disaster. My brain was tired. I did two sets back to back and tanked it. I tried running old material,but manbasher shit in front of all men never works. Then I just wasnt feeling it. Essentially shit didnt get done.

Some of me dreads that I lost my gift. I probably did to some extent. I know some of it is that I see the newbies bright eyed and bushy tailed and have such a chip on my shoulder. Plus I have a resentment about paying for stage time and have a bad attitude. I know it comes across when I step behind the mic but I dont care. Wait, yes I do. Some veteran comedian who hasn't done shit in years and that tried to lure me in bed to try to revive his dead career that keeps dying like a beached whale told me that if I didnt care so much I wouldnt have any chance of being good. Maybe the pick up line laced in masculine lies looking for a meal ticket had some truth. In some ways I wish I could get that back, that wonder and love. I do love being onstage, I do love making people laugh. But everything that went down killed a part of me. I know I let them. But I got fucked. Lets be honest. Once you are a pickle you can never be a cucumber again.

They say open mics are supposed to keep you fresh. So far they are just annoying and sometimes unsafe for me. Once a comedian who has a drug problem verbally assaulted me for a TV appearance I did. This has happened more than once. I am debating whether to get onstage or to stay home in front of my mirror. Plus the group of people are below me careerwise for the most part and really have nothing to offer as far as well paying gigs and connections go. Is stage time really that important? Who knows?

I have lots to do this week.

I know I have to drop the rock.

Not before I throw it first.

Burn a bridge, break a mirror, idolize myself.

Maybe I will tell them my grandfather died again come Thursday.And he did forty one years ago. But my grandfather that I never met would also want me to sell books. If it's a disaster those fuckers really don't deserve my best. But my books would like to be sold. Hmmmm.

Okay, I am dropping the rock. But not before I break a few windows. And for the record,dont expect me to be warm and effusive when the time comes. The bitch is back!!!!

UNDECIDED

Love April

I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Person

www.buybooksontheweb.com

877-Buy-Book

Bombing Brilliantly

Yesterday I made the decision to start getting up with the gusto I had when I was twenty years old. While the whole standup thing made me ill and I had such a terrible parting with the home club I had done so much for-don’t even get me started-I didn’t want to be touch and go forever. Sure, I have a chip on my shoulder about how I have been repeatedly shafted for being a woman and for being as different as I am. Yes, I feel the art form is hypocritical, goading the comedian to be groundbreaking but the second you are the doors close on you. Or better yet, once you have ambition and are a woman there must be something wrong with you. My list of issues goes on.

Anyway, on the other hand I enjoy being onstage. I have a day job where I perform. I have performed on the street and subway too and love it. There is something about stepping out there, the lights on my person. I always request the Apollo spotlight like they did in the movie Ray. When the room is dark, I say my opening line and I hear laughter. Sometimes when things are going well I hear, “Wow, this girl is funny.” Of course, then May Wilson comes out and people are amazed that I can make her talk without moving my lips. They have never seen a ventriloquist. Premise, set up, punchline, I am awesome. They love me. I feel on top of the world. This is my safe place. This is the place where everything goes right when everything is wrong. When I am going through a breakup, running from myself, trying to be an adult, trying to get through the death of a best friend from drugs, trying to deal with being broke this is where everything is fine. This is when I am safe.

That is, when it goes well.

I decided yesterday to go to an open mic. It was my friend Hector Luis’s mic. I love Hector because not only is he a good guy, but he is a student of the art form of standup comedy. As part of the prizes at his mic, I have won several comedy DVDs that he so lovingly burned. I won best set once or twice, and the place is always supportive. It’s fun, laid back, and safe. Something told me get up, go, do it. I also told Hector about my book and he was awesome. So was Maritza. As a matter of fact, Hector invited me to promo the book this Saturday on his radio show Rat Dog Radio. More details to follow.

I of course came with my type written set of jokes and was ready to rock and roll.

I didn’t.

Instead it was sort of the opposite. None of my jokes hit. I was like WTF?!?! I wrote these, I spent time on them, where did this come from? All the jokes I had written weren’t working. What had I done wrong? What was wrong with me?

Immediately I left the stage feeling like I had to fight for all the laughs I got. Then it hit me in a way. Maybe I had lost my ability to make people laugh. I had written my book. Yes, it was funny, but I had lost my stride onstage. Last two weeks, I had been up a few times and did well, but my jokes were tried and true and had worked for sometime. I was also getting sick of them and wanted to work on my new puppet Don Juan.

Still, maybe I had lost my ability to make people laugh. That paranoia shook me.

After I ran out of the mic to get some dinner before meeting my friends on my friend Tony’s yacht, I told myself maybe I had made a mistake. I should just stick to author land. I had been inconsistent as a comedian. When I hit I really hit, and sometimes handled some tough crowds very well when others were eaten alive. On the other hand, at times I should have just held the damn torch I always just dropped it and burnt down the village. It was an either/or situation. At this point I felt things should be better, I should be more crisp when I hit the stage, right?

Then I remembered the immortal words of Chis Murphy, a comedian and comedy coach I have had the pleasure of crossing paths with several times. He once told me that even if you tank, you still got up which means you won. Then it hit me that I still won. I had written new material and didn’t do the same A stuff like some people do at mics. Yes, there are people who do A material at mics. Sometimes it is to workshop a set for a showcase, but sometimes it is because they just aren’t writing anything else. I had put new material on it’s feet and some of the jokes have a future, some need to be shelved for a little bit. Some need to be put in a circular file never to be heard from again. I also have to relax a little onstage, which means getting rid of that diva chip on my shoulder. I need to have fun again with new material, and know that everything happens in it’s own time and this means not always knowing where the punchline comes from right away.

I have had some awesome sets in my life. I have done a lot in my short time on this planet. None of that is going to go away. Yes, I tanked like hell but I took the risks. I also didn’t sit on my ass and wonder what the next move was. For months I have been agonizing over what next. I wrote a damn book that is coming out in a month, I have had songs that charted on the internet, I was a talking head and left that job. I have been wondering, what’s next. The answer is and has always been to get onstage. In a career where there is so much one cannot control the only thing you can control is your output and quality of the work you produce. Sure, if you are funny you can still be denied, but on the other hand it does make life easier.

Yes, I have an attitude about all I have done and the whole comedy thing and again, wont get into it here. I will be the first to cop up to the fact I am a drama queen and a diva. But perhaps it’s time to scrap that, eat humble pie, and just keep getting up no matter how many times I get knocked down. The crazy part is, I want to do it again, and again, and again. I don’t even care if I tank. I just want to do it again.

So to bombing, and doing so brilliantly.

Nagasaki Mutherfucker.

Love,

April

PS. Listen to Rat Dog Radio this Saturday. More details to follow

The Skinny Part 1

It was two days ago when I got a message from Sean Lynch to be a part of his latest project. I was dizzy from new author land. My dear mother, my partner on my publishing venture, had read in a book that the pages should be off white. I told my publisher who gently told me most book sellers don’t care. It inspired me to perhaps write a book, The Writing of the Writing: A Woman’s Journey to Literary Superstardom and How She Almost Developed a Heroin Habit Along the Way. Translated, her head is spinning as much as mine. Our heads are spinning together. No wonder we work so well as a team.

As a part of the email, Sean also invited me to be a part of his show at Skinny Bar and Lounge on Orchard. I am not getting up enough these days so I thought why not? Last weekend I had done a spot in Bushwick and literally blew up the house. I remember leaving the venue feeling like a rockstar. That same week I had done Buttermilk feeling like a rockstar. But as of late, not much comedy. Throughout May I was so injured I could barely leave my house. Plus I was still bitter over a split I had with a club I had worked with and earned a lot of money for. While my bitch was with the club system and it’s selfish owner, the resentment transferred onto standup, an art form I am guilty of loving. I remember May consisted of me crying because my knees and ankles hurt so badly, but then asking myself if I did the right thing by pursuing comedy as hard as I had been in the past.

I had met Sean a few months ago at the Underground Lounge. Right away, I was struck by his positive energy. I am a firm believer in energy, and can often read a persons essence within meeting them. When I met Sean I liked his vibe. He was a fabulous storyteller and spun this yarn about his days in Catholic School, and how as a joke he and his friends put a porno in the VCR for health class. Needless to say the nun wasn’t laughing but we were. Sean also has a distinctive, infectious laugh himself.

After the show I remember Sean and I talking at the Underground. Apparently, Sean is a fan of puppets. Every once in a while, he does an act with a black ventriloquist dummy. Hence the project we are working on together, more on that later. Either way, I remember thinking he was pretty cool.

I made my way to Orchard St after dinner at a Spanish restaurant. I figured the rice, beans and food that was filling would offset my usual diet of cheese twisties. When I got to the Skinny, I saw the usual suspects. Chewey Mai was there and yes I still do have her pretty pink umbrella. Kyle Bostic was also at the bar having a drink, and it was nice to see him since his debut on Adult Swim. Rob Shapiro came, and was well, Rob. For as crazy as this super twin is, when he gets onstage he brings it in a way that still amazes me after all this time. Soon Angela Cobb walked in, looking spiffy as ever. The question remained, where was Sean?

Minutes later, he wandered in with Chad Plaines carrying a huge wooden stage. I looked at the both of them lugging this malevolent fiend only capable of giving one a hernia. Sean was huffing and puffing, and Chad had the other side. My neck hurt just seeing them. The show was to be in the back of the bar. I walked back to see the space. It looked like the wall of an AA meeting complete with light that you had to pull to turn on. This was either going to be awesome or an awesome disaster. There was no in between for an evening like this.

The show started and as Sean told his first story, we all laughed and people began to drift back into the show space. Sean’s storytelling was incredible, and he told us all he had a feeling it would be a fun night. Suddenly, my attitude began to change. This wasn’t going to be a trainwreck of a bar show but awesome. Especially when Sean said he lugged the stage for twenty blocks. That’s not just suicide, that is dedication to the do it yourself aspect that makes standup so special out of all the art forms. Actors require so much prep and fuss with their props. Singers warm up for hours and musicians must tune their instruments. As comedians, it is a mic and a stage. We have no tune or eloquent monologue to hide behind. It is baptism by fire, we either shit or get off the pot.

And awesome it turned out to be.

The show began and Neruda Williams took the stage. At first I wasn’t sure if he could follow Sean’s lead but he did quite well. At that point I knew it was going to be a good. Angela Cobb went up soon after, and I remember her being rather green when I first met her. However, she had grown into quite a funny lady from what I saw that night. In that mix was Carolina Hidalgo who I always enjoy. Spliced in was a saucy redhead with an Irish sirname who’s first name escapes me that was a girl after my own heart. Chad Plaines also did quite well, and I laughed especially hard at his Sleepy’s joke. Kyle Bostic also did well too.

In between some guy kept tapping me on the shoulder in hopes of scoring until finally he was told by Sean and the owner of the place, also Sean, to watch the show or get out. He got out. I had two knights in shining armor. Still, I wanted to know, would he pass me a note that said, “Do you like me?” And I was to check yes, no, or maybe?

Of course then there was the guest star from 30 Rock which made me say, “Damn, Sean Lynch is the man.”

Just when it looked like the energy in the room would die, Sean Lynch kept it going. Not only was he a good storyteller but a fabulous emcee. I found myself entertained and wanting to stay and support rather than do what I usually do, go outside and join the smokers cause I am bored. Rob Shapiro went up and destroyed. He reminded me not only what a good comedian was, but why I looked up to him as much as I did when I started out.

Then there was the peanut gallery, a few kids who were fans of Sean’s shows from the Underground. One girl, who couldn’t hold her liquor, began stumbling around. Her mouth started flapping, however she was no match for Dave Lester. As usual, Dave destroyed.

Then a girl went up who had attended Ukranian school as a child. She was funny which was good. Then I went up. Would I hit the mark or would I miss it completely? It was nearly the end of the night and people were getting tired. While the liquor had set in, some were in the stupor. And at this point they would either love me or hate me.

So I got up, said fuck it, and went to the stage.

I went up and had an awesome set. It was especially wild because mid-set May betrothed herself to Rob Shapiro. It wasn’t Madison Square Garden but I was having fun, rocking the house, being myself. Sure, in the past few years I have had my share of TV time. But this was the best I have felt about my standup in years. I wasn’t as eager to impress, I wasn’t trying to prove myself, I was rocking and rolling and having a great time.

Chewy closed the show, and she did a great job. She had also come a long way from the last time I had seen her, which made me proud of this youngster. I always like to see comedians grow out of that green stage and into their skin. As a vet it makes me smile to see someone focusing on the art and what’s important, and actually honing an act. A plus.

When the show was over I had a chat with Sean’s girlfriend Christina who is currently attending Columbia. She too is a writer. Much like me she has written a memoir. Christina is still penning her manuscript, but I have a feeling it will be excellent. From what she told me it is a heart touching story about how one’s death can change a person. I know I would buy it. The death of my dear friend Roger Ferrer made me fly right. Joe Cannava got me to write my book. That’s why I know in my heart I know in my heart people will pick Christina’s book up a million times and read it. I know I would.

Sean Lynch then swooped in declaring Christina the best girlfriend ever. She supports live comedy, of course she is the best girlfriend ever. So I implore on you Sean Lynch, KEEP HER, KEEP HER, KEEP HER. And every once and a while dine and dash at a nice restaurant. Or steal her a nice present.

Wait those are my boyfriends, nevermind.

The show at the Skinny made me remember why I do standup. I don’t do it for the TV time. I don’t do it for the fan mail. I don’t do it so people will talk about how fabulous I am.

Okay, maybe I do

But bottom line, I do it to make people laugh.

Love,

April

PS. I returned the Skinny again the following night for an different adventure. Part 2 soon to come xo