Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

Just did my first night of standup. I made more people laugh off-stage. It was my plan, you know, throw off my fellow comedians by being hilarious over drinks and then bomb.

I didn't want to upstage them or anything.

All things considered, I didn't do too badly, considering it was a tough room, full of comedians. So why did I wake up this morning hearing Blondie's "Rip Her to Shreds"?

Then again, if my experience was that bad, why am I already coming up with new material? Why is it that I wasn't completely humiliated by this experience?

Well, because I got a few laughs, and with this crowd that's a start. Not to mention, two of the guys I thought were the funniest talked to me afterwards and congratulated me for doing a decent job. They said I looked really comfortable up there, which they seemed to think was a great sign.

So I've had a few ideas for new material...

I just broke up with a guy I'd been seeing for two years, and I was a little surprised by how some of my friends reacted. "What will you do now?" they asked, all concerned. Oh, I don't know. Ritual suicide? But while my Hari Kari set is on order, I thought I'd just rent some movies I want to see. Maybe stop shaving...

I was trying that out for my sister's roommate and he took me seriously. And he starts getting into this big conversation about relationships. And finally I'm, like, "Dude, I'm just trying out my standup on you." And he gets all offended. And he says, "Well, when you go up there, you better make sure they know they're jokes." So I made some signs...

<hold up sign that says "Joke">

Because that way people know when to laugh, you know. Because it says "joke."

<hold up sign that says "Uncomfortable Silence">

Because then they know when to laugh, you see?

<hold up sign that says "Smoking Break">

I'm a freelancer. I write for business publications. Nobody wants to write for business publications. It's not their dream job; they want to be entertainment reporters or investigative journalists or columnists. And I heard they have an organization for business writers. Isn't that kind of like, in New York, having an organization for actors who are currently waiters?

And they have seminars on things like how to carry hot soup, how to tie a bow tie? And people join it just to make connections... until they realize everyone in the organization is a waiter. And the only thing they're likely to get out of it is a better table.

I had a Celine Dion song stuck in my head last week. She has this Vegas show now, and I saw part of it on TV. While she's singing, there's a thousand dancers behind her in perfect synchronization.

<sing "I Drove All Night" while doing ballet moves>

So I begged my sister, "Please sing anything, anything, to get my mind off this song." And she sings a song from "CATS." So now I have dancers in cat makeup dancing in my head, and I don't even know the words

<dance catlike, while mumbling>

The only way this would have been worse would be if she'd sung "Roll Out the Barrel" while backed by an entire parade of Mummers.

I knew about the Mummers before I moved here, but I never had any direct experience with them. And one morning I was walking to work, sipping my coffee, saw a bunch of them on the street, panhandling. They needed more sequins.

"Come on, Guvenor! You got a bauble for us? Something sparkly! Brighten our day, Guvenor!" They talked like that because I can't do a Philadelphia accent. I gave them a subway token.

I don't drink alone anymore, because I'm tired of discovering things in my apartment the next day. "Why is there a dildo in the freezer?" There's a melted popsicle in your bed. The phone is covered with pudding, which is off the hook, and somebody on the other end is screaming at you in French.

I need to lay off those wine coolers.

Back in college, it didn't take much to get us drunk. One of my best friends was nicknamed "Half a Beer Nelson." She'd take a few sips and giggle. "I'm drunk! <giggle> I'm drunk! I love you!" By the end of the beer, she'd be, like, <slurred> "I never had a pony." <head falls down drunkenly>

Most of my friends didn't drink much, so we used to go to parties and have a designated drinker. Everybody else would be drinking soda and talking about "Star Trek" and someone would bring a bottle of Jaegermeister. We'd monitor them, like it was an experiment. "Subject has difficulty speaking Klingon properly." Later on, "Subject has difficulty telling a Romulan from a Betazoid." And even later, "Subject says Star Trek sucks. Set phasers to stun." And if they passed out, they'd wake up wearing Spock ears. "Professor Englebert, it's time to go home."

Moral:
If at first you don't succeed, don't take the hint.

Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson

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