I’m doing my first non-open mic show in Chicago tonight at the Edge Comedy Club. The show is called Pizza Party, because the price of admission includes FREE PIZZA!
It’s also called Pizza Party, because, accoding to Dave Odd, the show’s producer, comics are supposed to spend time talking about their childhood and getting all nostalgic. I don’t have a ton of material along those lines, so I’ve been thinking about my childhood a lot, and it has been depressing the shit out of me. But I don’t care, because I am going to eat a ridiculous amount of pizza and gross out all those around me.
The show starts at 10:30 tonight (04/17/2009), 777 N. Green St., Chicago
Two days before Derek and I were supposed to move to Chicago, our house caught on fire. And not in a, “Oh, no, my pie is burning!” (a phrase I shall never utter), kind of way. It was more of a, “Holy fuck! Our couch is on fire!” experience. That’s not what you want to see when you get out of bed at 1:30 am because you smell smoke. If you’ve never been in the situation, let me tell you, it will freak you out.
People keep asking how it happened. I’m not sure exactly, but based on where the fire was when I first observed it, I’d say it was our floor furnace. What could it have ignited? My guess is my hopes and dreams. Apparently that shit is like leaves and dryer lint.
Maybe it was just Memphis’s way of saying, “You should have left on Wednesday,” or “I’m saving you the trouble of a U-Haul rental.”
Not funny at all part: our cats died. That’s the second cat I’ve personally lost through unforeseen tragedy in the past year.
I’m glad I don’t believe in any sort of God, fate, or destiny (that isn’t decided on a quantum level that humans are incapable of understanding or affecting, but guess what, it has nothing to do with us), otherwise I’d be pissed. But Derek and I are in Chicago, and we’re trying to sort a lot of things out: jobs, living arrangements, how the hell to get anywhere. The little comedy I’ve done so far has gone well, and I’m excited about it. And yes, for the purposes of certain jokes, my cats are still alive.
If the next time you see me, I’m wearing pantyhose, look like I’m judging you, and then say something racist with food in my mouth, it’s because I am now an old lady. And I don’t mean that in a, “I’m 26, I’m starting to feel old, but not really, let’s be funny and condescending,” kind of way. I exhibit behavior now which is that of an elderly woman, and I have the anecdotal evidence to back it up (if Bush were still in office, I could get science funding based on that! Irrelevant Zing!)
Tonight I went to Walgreens to get some sort of menstrual medication (from now on referred to as “lady pills.”) I know, ew, but also, what kind of old lady still needs menstrual relief? Probably the kind that writes insulting blogs about the elderly. First, my paramour, Derek, and I walk in and the music playing all over the store is Patti Smith. Granted, it was “Because the Night,” and Patti Smith’s before my time, but still, why must music we love constantly be put in settings that ruin it? I’m sure there’s a corporation and a white man at fault somewhere.
Then, while seeking the aforementioned “lady pills,” I remembered I needed new shoe insoles. Derek immediately mocked me for this (as he should have), and I saved some face by responding to his criticism in my lispy, spitty Christina voice.
Derek: Why do you need those?
Me (Christina voice): I have flat feet! Are you making fun of my disability? Because I would never make fun of someone’s disability.
So I got my insoles, found my “lady pills,” and on my way to the cash register, I picked up a box of $1 prunes. There are several reasons why I bought this box of prunes that are too sad/not funny to go into. Sad/funny enough to go into? The prunes were an impulse buy.
There you go. Friday night and I’m buying “lady pills,” insoles, and prunes. Yes, I’ve been drinking since I got home (like Richard Burton on a Tuesday! Irrelevant Zing!)
I’m moving to Chicago in 10 days to become a famous comedian.
Fuck.
I’m not physically prepared (there are a lot of boxes in my apartment right now, most of them empty) but mentally, I think so.
Whenever I have something big on the horizon, something I’ve been planning for a long time, I never think it will actually happen. I plan for it. I do everything I’m supposed to do to get ready, but I never think it’s going to happen until it does.
I think it’s because it’s so hard to imagine something you’ve never done before. I’ve been to Chicago. I’ve made the drive several times before, and I’ll be glad to see the 200 foot cross in Effingham, Illinois again. I’ve never moved to another city before, though.
It’s like, I imagine if I ever got pregnant [and kept it! (maybe in Bizarro World, me keep fetus)] I would feel like I’d just be pregnant forever.
So why now? This is the part I hope every Memphis comic reads: It’s because of all of you. I’ve been doing comedy, in Memphis, for a long time, (which I never bring up because I’m so humble) longer than most people before they decide to really “go for it.” For about 8 years, I felt alone. No other professional comic from Memphis should feel slighted by this, especially Mo, but I felt like it was just me. Name another female, teenage comic in Memphis. Don’t bother with your Google search bar; there wasn’t one. I was at all the open mics and venues that came and went, and other comics came and went, but I was always here.
There are so many reasons I stayed so long. I was sick for a long time and didn’t know it (that will be an even longer post at some point.) I fell in love a couple of times. The main reason: I wasn’t good enough. Am I now? I won’t really know until I try to move farther.
This is the first time Memphis have ever had a “comedy scene” since I’ve been around. It’s not perfect, but it’s what I’ve been wanting. To really explain why I have confidence now, we have to delve into a comedy dichotomy that I don’t think anyone can explain.
A comedian has to make the audience laugh. If you haven’t done that, as far as I’m concerned, you haven’t done your job. We can talk all we want about “bad crowds,” or “it’s not my crowd,” or “they’re too stupid to get me,” but any time you bomb on stage, even if intellectually you don’t care, on some level after you’ve plowed through your time, you feel like a failure. Because you just failed.
It’s more important to us to make other comics laugh. I’m laying that out as a general rule. The ideal is to accomplish both and be someone like Brian Regan, who I think I could kill in any room at any time. That might be the hardest thing on the planet.
There are comics who make audiences laugh that get no respect from other comics, and I imagine they weep over their low-brow, fraudulent lives on giant piles of money every night. (Actually, most of them just work the road and will until they die, but it’s so much easier to despise someone if you think they’re richer than you are.) There are comics who make other comics laugh, and their chances with crowds are hit and miss. I always thought I was that type of comic, but I never had proof (other than Mo, and one person’s opinion just isn’t enough to move to another city on) until there were comics in Memphis I respected that watched me on a regular basis.
You have all given me confidence, and that has made me better. All the new stage time has made me better. The talks and riffing sessions until two in the morning have made me better. There is a thing now called “Memphis Comedy,” and I want to take that to the rest of the country and world. I hope the rest of “Memphis Comedy” will follow me.
February is black history month, so naturally, I’m swamped. I identify so greatly with the African American struggle, that a lot of white people have asked me to perform and tell some dick jokes of solidarity.
Feb. 6th @ The Hi-Tone, Taking Care of Lady Business
This show will be amazing. You’ve got three fucking awesome bands, and they have the myspace pages to prove it.
I rejoined the Wiseguys last year, and it is without a doubt the best group of people I have ever done improv with. Imagine your seven (or eight) smartest, funniest friends making you laugh your ass for an hour and a half, and you’ll get a good idea of what a Wiseguys show is like. Oh, even more so, if there’s a palpable feeling of homoerotic tension between your guy friends.
I’ll be performing at the CD release show for The Original Cyndi. This show will not be like anything else you see. It’s the kind of thing that would get you called, “Queer!” and run over by a pick-up truck in the sort of small town where irony is illegal.
Another Wiseguys show. So which one should you come to? Cafe Eclectic shows are free (we do pass around a bucket and expect you not to be a cheap bastard), but they clean shows. Hilarious still, but that’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Full Moon shows are $5, but there’s drinking, smoking, and dirty talk.
Feb. 26th-28th @ Comedy, TN
This is the professional gig. I am featuring (30 minutes of my own special Judy Blume/Bill Hicks style comedy) for Jamie Kilstein. Jamie was here last year, and he’s not just a hilarious stand up. He’s got a liberal, political style that you don’t get to see here in the Bible Belt very often.
This all sounds so awesome Mary, why would you characterize it as a descent into madness? It sounds more like success, like a professional comedian’s schedule. You forget that I am equally funny and lazy. I don’t handle stress well. Social situations make me feel awkward. Don’t be surprised if I say some random, weird shit when I’m around. Also, don’t be surprised if you see my boyfriend with an “If this crazy bitch doesn’t shut up, I’m going to shove a rusty hook in my eyes,” look on his face.
I’m sorry this title is misleading, but I feel it’s the sort of thing my fan base has come to expect (if I say I have one, that makes it true right?) If that’s all you’re interested in, you can go here http://www.flickr.com/photos/87258185@N00/sets/72157603724213121/ (link courtesy of Mike Degnan.)
This video is several months old, but I’m really proud of how good the Wiseguys Sketch Show was. This is probably my favorite sketch that I wrote and appeared in, and it’s for purely girly, sentimental reasons:
1. I get to play Elizabeth Bennet from Pride & Prejudice.
2. I get to talk in a bad, silly English accent.
Sorry I’ve been away so long. I had to waste a day auditioning for Last Comic Standing (Keep an eye out for me behind the guy in the banana costume playing the ukulele, and I’m not even kidding,) and I’ve been sick ever since I got back into town. Not the kind of sick that gets you sympathy, but the kind that grosses people out and makes them fear your touch. Since I couldn’t do anything very taxing (like typing a blog entry,) I watched a lot of movies. Derek and I made several trips to Black Lodge Video, the best rental place in Memphis, and we each picked out a few things we hadn’t seen. This brings me to the part where I ruin a precious part of your childhood, internet.
I’ve made this observation on stage before, but it bears repeating in a format that will last forever. My generation, that includes you internet, is so fucking in love with its own nostalgia it sickens me. Bring up Thundercats to your average 26-year-old American male and he’ll practically climax in front of you. Are we really that hard up for memories that aren’t even decades old yet? Toy companies made shitty cartoons twenty years ago to make our parents spend money, and now they’ve realized they can take our money directly for rehashing the same crap. People complain all the time about how there’s nothing original coming out of Hollywood, but instead of getting excited about a brand new story, the internet is all twitter over the G.I. Joe movie. I know the Baroness gave you your first boner, but is that any reason to give a hundred million dollar budget to a concept that could barely hold an eight-year-old’s attention for thirty minutes?
So in that vein, I come to one of the films Derek and I rented, The Last Unicorn. We all remember it fondly don’t we internet? Back in the days when Red Bull wasn’t an energy drink, and trees magically grew giant breasts (we all remember that scene, and if that gave you your first boner, you’re probably really fucked up now), that was the time of The Last Unicorn. I will give this movie one compliment: the animation looks awesome on DVD. It’s so much better than the crappy VHS version. However, the rest of the film is worthless. Did a part of your childhood just die? Good, because that’s where this movie belongs: in a long forgotten past. First of all, the band America does all the music, and it sucks, even compared to the rest of America’s music. You’d think, hey guys, just change one word in your biggest hit, and you’re half way done. No, they made all new songs that have no redeeming musical value. And I know, you see Mia Farrow, and you naturally think, well, she has no obvious connection with reality so a mythical creature should be the perfect fit. Very, very wrong. A monotone stroke victim would have done better voice work. And Jeff Bridges is The Dude, not a gallant prince. If you rewatch this movie, don’t do it with an open mind, where you mix it up with fond memories of lazy Saturday afternoons. Watch it like the hopefully analytical adult you are now, and then try to convince me of how awesome it is.
There were two great comedy shows in Memphis earlier this week. Sunday night at the Hi-Tone was the Memphis vs. Nashville comedy showcase. Four great Memphis comics went against four of the best from Nashville, and the quality of that show was not reflected in the audience turn out. Really, people, you’d rather watch the Oscars? I could have told you No Country for Old Men was going to win, and then instead of wasting three hours watching Hollywood talk about how great and important the movies they make are, you could have watched an awesome comedy show.
Anyway, Katrina Murrel hosted the proceedings, and she did a great job at being funny and arbitrarily awarding points to people. Representing M-town, the 901, the Detroit of the South, were myself, Michael Klein, Andy Flemming, and the organizer of the whole thing, Brandon Sams. On the Nashville side, we did combat with Paul Strickland, Sean Parrott, Corey Reppond, and Brad Edwards. Nashville’s win proved that the Oscars weren’t the only ones handing out pity awards that night (see Diablo Cody.)
Soon the Memphis comics will make their way to Nashville to try to wrest title of Funniest City in a state where it doesn’t matter at all.
Thankfully Monday night at the P & H turned out to be an awesome comedy show with a large, appreciative crowd. Stan Chen recorded his CD that night, and I was one of the lucky people who got to do some time before he did his set. Stan is an incredibly talented, surprisingly dark comic who splits his time between Memphis and Indianapolis. He also brought his friend Yoshi to perform, and since Yoshi is a comic living in LA, hopefully we’ll see him on TV soon because he was, as we say in the business, “funny as shit.”
If you’re in Memphis, keep your eye out for flyers about shows like these. Live comedy has never been stronger in this town.
I went to my first open mic over nine years ago, and I can write without hesitation that the comedy scene in Memphis has never been stronger or better than it is right now. Over the preceding nine years, there have been periods were there wasn’t a comedy club or open mic around. Now we have one of the best clubs in the country, Comedy, TN, and four open mics every week. There is stand up every night in Memphis, and that is something I thought would never happen.
Even more amazing than these developments is the quality of comedians. There are unbelievably weird, quite probably mentally unstable people who show up, because well, they are attracted to unrestricted PA systems. And there a few people who just don’t get the concept of a joke (setup-punchline, it’s very simple and if you don’t get it, you’ll never be the next Bill Hicks, no matter how insightful you’re convinced you are.) However, the majority of people coming to perform at the open mics around town are really funny, creative people who want to learn how to be a good stand up comic.
I’ll be posting more about the scene here in town and putting up information about specific shows, but I want to give some advice to all those talented and creative people I just mentioned. The open mics here are so great and rewarding, that they are not preparing you for what comedy on a professional level is like at all. We are supportive of each other and encouraging. Most other comics are really cool, but they are not the coddling sort, and they have enough of their own shit to worry about to not really care that much about you. Also, most club owners/bookers (Comedy, TN being an exception), are purely business minded people. Sure they probably liked comedy at one point, but they could give a fuck about your precious art.
I guess the best way to explain it is to really let you guys figure it out for yourselves. Come watch the comics at Comedy, TN. If you perform at open mic on any kind of a regular basis, you can get in free to almost every single show. Watching the acts that come through each week will teach you a lot. Even if you don’t think the person that week is funny, they are still way farther ahead than you in this business. Observe, observe, observe, and pay attention. You’ll see how different comics approach crowd work, close out their show, handle hecklers, etc. Most comedians are willing to talk with you about comedy after the show, and you should take this opportunity every time it arises.
Now that I’ve blathered on about how great the open mic scene is, here’s a list of the open mics you can attend in Memphis.
The only open mic you need to sign up for in advance is the one at Comedy, TN. Just call or email the club. Comedy, TN is also the only open mic with a cover charge, but it’s only $5.
