Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts
By Alyce Wilson
A friend of mine is trying to get me to do standup. He goes regularly to an open mic in Northeast Philly, and he said I could come along if I could come up with five minutes of material.
We stayed up late trying out ideas on each other. I thought his material was best when it concentrated on his family, because the humor came from a genuine place.
But his wife had different ideas. She made him put on a funny hat and insisted he show me his prop gags.
I suggested he do a bit about his wife forcing him to wear funny hats:
"It will make you funnier!"
I came up with a few scattered ideas but am still trying to work out where to go with it. Right now they range from dry observations about my hometown to jokes about pop culture to just plain off-the-wall stuff.
My friend had a notebook of jokes and was testing them out on me, watching me to see if I laughed. When I did, he made a note next to the joke. I felt like I was participating in a bizarre psychology experiment, designed to test my reaction to humor stimulus. I wondered if the next stage would involve navigating through a maze. I hoped so, because then I might get some cheese. I love cheese.
Surprisingly, my friend and I are the only members of our group who would consider trying standup, despite the fact that when I'm together with these friends, they get into high-speed comedy competitions. Compared to them, I feel about as funny as Howie Mandell. Without his rubber glove.
And even when you've known these guys long enough to know many of these jokes are canned, to be pulled out when appropriate, it's a bit overwhelming. Faced with such rapid-fire battles of wit my response is to turn to the absurd, the nonsequitur. At least, that way I get noticed. And sometimes I'm rewarded with cheese.
Of course, no matter how late I stay up any more, I get up early the next day. I've become an old lady. I'm going to start eating grapefruit and bran cereal for breakfast, wearing shapeless cardigans and talking about the "good old days." Come to think of it, that's pretty close to me already.
So I've been up for awhile, trying to come up with ideas. My only audience, however, is my dog, who is pretty useless. I came up with a routine that involved making monkey sounds and throwing her favorite toy.
I may have to try it out on some people, too. But maybe I should wear a funny hat. And give them cheese.
Moral:
It's perfectly acceptable to bribe someone for a laugh, unless you run
out of cheese.
Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson
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