I went back and did more stand-up comedy last night. Spoiler alert: I got more laughs than expected. I arrived at 7:36 and the list was already pretty full.
“Is there room on the list?” I asked Nick, the M.C.
“Just put your name down toward the end,” he replied. Score!
The place was super crowded and my friend Ruth showed up with a couple of friends in tow, so this time I knew someone in the audience. This made me a bit more nervous than I would have been, but it wasn't anything a Maker's Mark on the rocks with a splash of water couldn't cure. I had to sit through a lot of comedians because I was in the final four (final three, actually, but who's counting? Me.).
I'd prepared a bunch of stuff over the past week and then didn't use any of it, choosing instead to use the stuff I wrote in the car on the way over. It worked great: much better than expected, per the spoiler alert. I'm proud to say that I didn't recycle any jokes from the week before; it was all new material.
Once again I was the only woman to take the stage, so my opening line was, “I'm Lynn B. Johnson and let's give it up for all the guys who came before me (big applause) because I was on the balcony with them before the show and they ALL came before me (big laughs), which means they're all either really good at it, or really bad at it.
Then I talked about how it's my personal philosophy to set the bar low, except when playing limbo, and how I've lost 60 pounds since the day I gave birth to my second kid, and about my size 16 skinny jeans being like a one-night stand: you're not fooling me, and you're not fooling you, but you're saying what I want to hear, so yeah, I'll get in your pants, Old Navy. Then I talked about fast-food and I got to tell my filthiest joke, yay, and then I talked about BK's $1.99 apple fries (because when I buy an apple I want to pay extra for the packaging), and how God is smarter than us and how that was proved by my conversion to Christianity, and about this Saturday's alleged apocalypse, which everyone had heard about so really, not a bad return-on-investment for that guy's life savings, and then I closed with, “I'll tell you this one last thing: if on Saturday, I'm raptured away, and you loot my house, I will fucking haunt you.” Big laughs. Thanks, you've been a great crowd, goodnight!
Then, at the end of the night when the M.C. puts all of the comedians' names in a hat and the bartender pulls one out and a crappy prize is awarded, guess what? I won! I gave the M.C. shit about the sweater vest he was wearing — I accused him of stealing it from my mom but seriously, I would *never* let my mom wear that thing — and he gave me a credit-card-payment folio with a “happy anniversary” bean in it; I'm to plant it and then it allegedly will unfurl a blossom that somehow conveys a message of “happy anniversary.”
Well, we had already known each other for a week, so I suppose it's apropos. Got lots of “you're funny”s after the set and plenty of hearty handshakes from the other comedians. Nick told me how happy he was that I won tonight's mystery prize, and how he just grabs something crappy from his room to raffle off every week.
Terrific, terrific, terrific. Maybe there's something to this, after all.