I did some stand-up tonight at a local club. Wednesday night's open mic night, see. I did it three weeks ago with moderate success -- success enough to try it again.
So I put together my set: stuff about Phoebe Cates and robots and sacks full of gnomes and a superhero named Monosyllabic Man. I brought energy, I brought delivery, I brought giddy delight for all things odd.
To a room full of college kids.
I was dying up there; it was critical. I was on, I was doing it, I was totally there. But it wasn't working. I finished my five minutes and I was done.
I didn't get the laughs, but the guy who talked about trying to pee when you're drunk and you have an erection? Belly-laughs.
"Your material is funny," one of the judges later told me. "You just have to find a way to make these people comfortable with odd. Emo Phillips did it; Judy Tenuta did it. You just need to find a way to work it in."
On the one hand -- yes, it's infuriating. Being totally outdone by "If I make the push to piss, you'd better believe shit's gonna be flyin' out the other end" is really annoying. But on the other waldo...there's a time and place for weird, and Frat Night ain't it.
