Tip-Toe Backwards

I don’t give a shit about stand-up comedy right now. I never thought I’d reach this point, making cocky statements early on, “I’m in this for the win.” Judging comics that invest more time in their OTHER thing.

Oh, you occasionally do comedy, but this other thing is your REAL passion.

I’ve been excited about something else and the scales have finally tipped. There’s that feeling of Oh, I gotta keep showing up to let my friends know I’m still in! I’m not backing down, I’ll keep fighting for time. Just to save face. Am I really fighting for time? Nah.

I won’t walk away, not yet. I just wanted to acknowledge that I’ve hit this wall. It’s so dumb because I feel so close, but I’m just excited about other stuff.

I’ll probably check out a mic next week, feel the high from performing again and debate whether to delete this entry- whoops! Just went without stand-up for a week…sorry about that. Maybe I do love this. I texted my wife that I have to do standup and wanted her to tell me that it’s ok. Now I’m down and feeling like I could walk away. The fuck is going on?

So much complaining, bragging, and shit-talking everywhere. It feels good to do something outside of stand-up that doesn’t involve these things. Maybe I’m not strong enough. I’m lazy about writing material but I work til’ I’m sick on the stuff I’m excited about.

I know I’m a funny guy, just not sure the best version of me translates into standup.

I hear a pool of voices, the cynical comics that have a smart answer for anything that anyone posts. Good, walk away. Concentrate on that feeling.

It feels sacrilegious to voice these doubts, because we’ve all invested so much.

I feel like Garraty in Stephen King’s The Long Walk. It would feel so good to just sit down. Close my eyes. Hear the footsteps of thousands of comedians advancing up the next hill while I sit here until they’re all gone. Just the sound of crickets and my lungs no longer gulping for air.

Didn’t get around to a Best Open Mic of the year post because it felt like a chore and I was busy. I seem to hit those entries once every two years.

I think the frustrating thing is I don’t want to go down easy….material wise. I don’t know how to get people into Martyland without them being weirded out and hating my guts.

BOO HOOOOOOOOOOO.

I’ll see you at the next mic. Don’t bring this up. Yes, I’m reviewing it…to let the nice people know if it’s worth it. Not sure where I stand on this journey.

(struggles with closing laugh line)

(picks up a hobby instead)

Comedy Advice From A *%#king Idiot (Under 10 Years)

I love giving advice. I’m only 6 years in, but I think I know everything. Until the next bomb. Then I think back to the time I gave unsolicited advice to a fellow comic and she’s been on television since then. She was fine, she didn’t need my input.

The harsh reality of me giving comedy advice is that I can get up on stage later and bomb in front of everyone that read this. It makes you think, Jesus, why would anyone take advice from that asshole?

From just a few months in to 10 years or more- you’re gonna hear all kinds of shit from people you probably shouldn’t listen to. So jump ship now or keep reading!

A handful of comics asked me about getting booked. How does one go about that? Why am I not getting booked?

I’m probably not the guy to ask. I get booked 3 to 4 times a month, and even that is pretty generous when I’m still learning so much. You’ve seen comic’s memes with full schedules. Clearly I’m not working hard enough. They have the hustle. I hustle in different directions. I feel uncomfortable asking too much. Even when I’m at my best, something inside tells me I don’t deserve to ask for more. I have to get over that.

Some nights I exude so much confidence, and then another night I feel like a beginner all over again, struggling through a longer set, forgetting my set-list, or closing with a joke that never works. What the hell was I thinking??!! Why did I have a beer? I’m losing focus, too relaxed.

I was in denial about a lot of jokes. I let them stay mediocre for years. Even my friends were probably wondering, why the fuck is he still doing that joke? It’s so easy to get set in my ways. I guess for a while there’s just not enough material, so I circle to older bits over and over again. Making mental notes after my set (oh, that line tanked again, I should change that) then blip! Forgotten until the next time it bombs again. It’s an unproductive cycle.

There’s real homework to be done. It’s not supposed to be all fun. We can’t just keep winging it on stage. We’re not all great like our heroes. If the line sucks take it out. Maybe the joke still works, but now it’s better because it’s shorter. I waste so much breath setting things up and it kills the actual funny part. I get this attitude like, I can’t think of anything else, that’ll do for now. I just admitted to myself that I don’t even like it.

Rewrites. Coming up with a better line, or a better set-up. So many of my jokes eat shit because the set-up doesn’t make sense, and no specific point of view is coming across. Sometimes I’ll ask an honest friend for an opinion. I’m sensitive about my jokes, so the response can be hard to take, but if something is not working, I’m not gonna be defensive about it. Riffing on the idea with a funny friend can put me back on the right track.

I have an app called The Comedy Companion. It lists all my jokes. It breaks them down into two categories: In Development or just Jokes. I rehearse individual jokes at home and list the time it takes to perform them. Then I give them my most honest grade. I love performing my Metallica bit, but it’s a C- at best. The first couple minutes get laughs, but then it eats a dick before I get to the huge act-out. It’s either too much of a niche audience thing or it’s just not funny enough. Maybe the storytelling is too sloppy. It’s a problem. I can’t keep doing it at shows until I do some rewrites. I can’t just blame the audience for not caring about Metallica. They still laugh at the set-up, so it’s not just the reference.

I like any book that goes into the mechanics of joke-writing with quotes from respectable comics. This is a good one.

There are jokes that I’m not crazy about performing like My Last Name is Wurst, but it usually does great, so it gets an A rating. It says something about me. It’s personal and there are a few good lines that always hit. A good opener for sure. People hear my last name is Wurst when the host brings me up, so naturally I should open with that joke, right? (Yeah, but I die inside every time.)

So eventually, I can whittle down a set-list and they should all be A’s and B’s. Close on a A-rated banger if I can. Do I have any other foolproof jokes? Anyway, this is just how I do it…or forget to do it, but mean to do it. Just gotta work on those C’s, D’s, and F’s.

Any comic who complains about not getting booked is not doing the homework. They’re still doing the same shit and saying it the same way. Or maybe they’re so cocky and new that nobody wants to book them. Maybe they’re making people uncomfortable on Facebook with negative rants (I know I can only take so much). Maybe they’re getting laughs consistently at the same open mic, which is not a good judge. Go to a place where nobody knows you with actual audience members. Get out of your comfort zone. I love my Orange County friends, but they know me too well. Getting laughs at mics where nobody knows me feels like something. It’s fun walking in at some place where there’s a clique, too. I feel like the underdog. If I bomb, I can stay away for a long time or come back with a vengeance.

But the drive, blah blah blah- nobody gives a shit. We all drive our asses off. I took public transportation for 15 years! Shut-up-a-yo-face! Speaking of which, I’m tired of headliners complaining on stage about driving 2 hours to a paid gig at a nice club, you fucking wankers.

You gotta be honest with how you’re doing! So many people get into the “I crushed!” “I killed!”mindsets. You post that all the time and it makes me question your credibility. Ah whatever, I can’t even talk to those people. They’re trying to get ahead by overhyping themselves. They don’t want to work on getting funnier.

(Ten years later, Marty comes to the realization he’s jealous of everyone.)

Did Gary Gulman mention listening to your sets over and over? That’s how I come up with new tags. It’s hard to listen to awful sets (I delete them pretty quick), but a good set is fun to listen to. For me it’s a drug. I keep rewinding to some lady’s cackle. After hearing bits over and over I start to think of alternate lines and directions. Or remind me of the fucking tag I dropped! A mediocre set will at least keep my interest, but it’s still a lot of cringing.

Nearly all of my bookings are a result of doing well at an open mic. Rarely from a Youtube clip. I just got my first Brea Improv spot because I made someone laugh at Father’s Pub, a fun and extremely divey bar mic in Santa Ana. You never know who’s watching, and because of that set I got to perform to a crowd of 250. That’s a big deal for me, to earn a club spot by just doing well at an open mic. The same thing happened at the Hollywood Improv. The booker was watching, and I did well when it mattered. A huge victory for me. I’m 6 years in and I almost stayed home that day. I never would have known, this is the day I get pulled. Kick ass in a room full of competitive comics, that’ll make an impression. Don’t go to a lottery mic just assuming you’re not gonna get pulled. Get amped up and review your set and be ready. Then light a fire in the room when your name gets called. It’s a test every time. We all blow it when it matters. I think we’re just unaware of it most of the time.

I booked Harvey Snowman at The Virgil based on this set. See, you never know who’s watching at an open mic. The other snow comics bailed after their sets. Way to support the room, shitheads.

Jeremiah Watkins said to treat every mic like a showcase. Seems like a little much, but he’s fucking right. Don’t waste it because the crowd looks like shit. Be your best at every open mic. You get a reputation, oh, here’s somebody to watch. Say somebody complains about the audience and shits on the gig during their set. That’s an opportunity to turn the room around when you go up. Make those people your friends so that last comic looks like an asshole! Oh, you think this is a bad situation? Well, I just made it great, so fuck you, ya negative hack!

I watch people deliberately blow it and it drives me nuts because I’ve done it too. Bailing out on bits, slurring jokes, watching somebody too high to form a thought—in front of the people that matter. There’s a dude that works at an amazing comedy club and gets spots. Then he gets on stage high as fuck, doesn’t remember his jokes, and leaves prematurely after bitterly complaining in front of the booker. Fucking dude doesn’t know what he has and he’s pissing it away.

If there’s just one takeaway from this entry, remember this. Most Los Angeles and Orange County open mics have one or two comics in the audience who book their own shows. Sometimes more. They’re just there to do sets too, but if they like you you’ll probably hear from them at some point. Sometimes advanced comics are waiting to go up, too. Maybe you do good and they’ll take note of that. So work on your set. Don’t be a dick. Be friendly. Awkward is fine, just be yourself and genuine.

Blah blah, blah, I’m so good at giving advice!!!!

I was delusional starting out. With no point of reference and doing things for the first time, my perception of a good set was much different from someone who’s been doing this for 5 to 10 years. I was eager to post those early Flappers clips, but I’m telling you, take those fucking things down now before you shoot yourself in the foot! If you think you’re serious about comedy, you’re gonna be better in 5 years anyway, might as well wait a bit before posting anything. Don’t embarrass yourself by sending those mediocre sets to bookers. Even my current clip is far from a home run…I should probably take it down. It’s a C+…maybe a B-. I’m embarrassed that some of my most successful jokes are dick jokes. There are enough of those already. I know I’m better than that. Clever over easy, Marty. Be clever first.

So what I’m saying is if you have jokes about cocks, I’ll tag them. Let’s do this.

One of several Flappers clips I prematurely posted on YouTube. Nice wig, Dipshit! Doing some bully character in my first year of standup. I don’t do stuff like this anymore, so it doesn’t even accurately represent what I do and then to top it off it has some embarrassing dead spots- don’t make the same mistake! Keep your clips unlisted until you feel Tony the Tiger (Grrrr-eat!) about it.

Big thanks to the comics who shot me a nice message about openmicreviews, the blog, or just had something nice to say to me about my set. The kind words in person at the bleakest open mics mean the world to me. I’m sorry if I didn’t remember your face from Instagram. There are people who occasionally donate, too- fucking unbelievable, thank you so much.

If you find a great mic that more comics should know about, hit me up! I also post a lot of ridiculous stand-up shenanigans on my personal account. If you’re ever in Orange County, make sure to follow Orange County Standup on Instagram. Dude posts everything going on daily, it’s great. Hit me up online if you need to bitch or ask about anything. If I don’t have the answer, I know a lot of people who might!

Man, I’m all tuckered out from giving out all this A+ advice, I’m plum worn out! I’m turning into a regular Greg Dean here. If you’d like to hear more, check out my past entries, learn from my mistakes and I’ll keep writing about it. I hope it wasn’t too obnoxious. Sometimes, I just need to remind myself of my own advice. Don’t end on a stinker Marty.

Good luck out there.

(fizzles out)

…(blows out candle)

Links to past entries:

Best Open Mics of 2018

Douchebags Helping Douchebags

The Resentful Open Micer

My First and Worst Year: Open Mic Hell

My First and Worst Year: Bringer Shows

My First and Worst Year: Westwood Brewco and Onward (the beginning)

My First and Worst Year: Producing a Show

Year 2: The Worst Comedian

Year 2: The Worst Comedian (Part 2)

Always Bombing

I can’t believe it. The pain finally subsided. That was rough man. I have to get a tooth extracted after the holidays and that’s not even the one that just tortured me for the last hour. Turning screws into my gums, I just wanted to enjoy a slider from work! Who eats while they’re in pain, that’s no fun.

It made me wish I was bombing on stage. That kind of pain is ok. I can deal with an audience staring at me during one of my confusing act-outs with maximum levels of flailing. But I can’t block out the pain of tooth #3.

A picture of my jacked up tooth.

I can fix the teeth. I can fix my reputation. I can’t fix that joke. Time to extract it.

Bombing in the moment, it feels like it’s all over and I let everybody down. My friends on the show. The booker, well, that’s a one and fuck you, you’re done. That one comic that I’ve been wanting to meet and now this is their first impression of me. The couple that I met before the show, they were so excited for me. They didn’t say goodbye on the way out. Even the servers were disappointed, they could feel the awkwardness in the club while dropping off cocktails.

There are many comics that I look up to that have ONLY seen me bomb. People I really like, but I only run into them every 6 months. I want them to know that I’m a pretty funny guy, but yes, I also bomb huge when it goes wrong. Spin the wheel on any given week and there’s gonna be a bomb. Those people always see me bomb. Then I have a good set, but they left early- shit! If you pay attention to shit like this then you’re crazy like me. I have a handful of names that I want to impress because I love funny people. I want to be funny with them.

Posting about bombing on Facebook sounds like a cry for help, but I just think it’s interesting. I know I’m fine, I bomb all the time, it’s part of the work. Maybe non-comics and family members think, “Oh, standup is just not for you Marty.” It’s hard to explain that I have to be terrible to get anywhere. That’s what we forget, we all fucking bomb, but mentioning it is like admitting you’re a shitty comedian or something. It shouldn’t matter online anyway, when you do good at mics, people notice, that’s that. Wait, this guy just admitted he bombed, forget it. I didn’t realize he dabbled in failure, I’ll book Neel Nanda instead. I like to reference Neel Nanda, I haven’t seen him in years. I’m pretty sure Neel Nanda has only seen me bomb.

I’m having the sudden realization here that everyone hates my guts. I’m usually making this face when it happens, I swear!

I’m not gonna post how I kill. I don’t kill, I don’t destroy, I have good sets. I don’t know how to destroy yet. Seems like a lot of comedians do, but I don’t do that, believe me. I’ve seen professionals wait a minute on stage to start their next joke because the room was too busy howling. That seems like a bonafide murder. That’s a killer.

Sometimes the room isn’t with me, but then I’ll see a random couple laughing their asses off through an entire bit. They liked my Metallica routine or they like the horror movie stuff. I just caught a sneak preview of my future fans. They’re out there, just gotta trust myself. Keep writing the stupid stuff that makes me laugh. Do the comedy I want to do. Eat plenty of shit on stage to get there.

I bombed in San Diego harder than I’ve ever bombed in my life. It’s worse when you feel it happening and it’s so strong it interrupts your joke. I actually stopped because it was overwhelming. I started talking about how it wasn’t going well. I insisted a woman in the front row hated me. I dug myself deeper. I sounded insincere when talking about a charity. My jokes floundered. I fucked up other comic’s intros. I got the light 10 minutes early. I bought an audience member a beer and even that gesture looked back-handed. I guess I killed after all, but not in a good way.

The other comics avoided eye contact while it was happening, just listening to me drown. Nobody liked me. Then I did it a SECOND TIME in the same night. It really shook me to the core. Thank Christ I didn’t record it, one of the few fucks ups that paid off, I don’t have to quote my bombing to you verbatim. Believe me it…was…the…WURST. (seven assholes have a heart-attack from laughing so hard)

Every week is different. My ego inflates after a string of minor victories. Then the inevitable bombing sideswipes me a day later, hurling me backwards into the shit. There’s that feeling of, well now my friends don’t think I’m capable of being funny. They’ll forget I was ever good! I did everything we usually mock at open mics. I didn’t trust myself. I got caught up in the words. I never looked at the audience. Fuck, I thought I had it all figured out! Guess I’m starting over again.

Here’s a short documentary I shot about a group of comics dealing with a tougher than usual gig. Bombing seemed like the only option, even though our booker insisted that “If people don’t laugh, you are not bombing.”

We all enjoy watching our friends bomb right? Come on! Yeah you do. I love seeing my talented friends fall from grace every once in awhile, it makes us equals. Or puts me slightly on top, haha! (high-fives nobody)

Understanding the pain, that’s what brings us together.

Just remember, you’re not alone. I saw you bomb. Maybe you saw me bomb. It know it’s awful. I’m sure you’re very good, just not that time. Huh. Next time was actually a little worse. Well, it happens. Three times is definitely not a charm. ….uh-oh.

On second thought, I’ll never bomb as hard as you- YEEEEEEEESH! (pulls collar, makes farting noises)

Here’s a clip of me bombing through a half-idea that I can’t seem to articulate or say in an interesting manner!

And here’s a video of me bombing more. Happy Thanksgiving!

Douchebags Helping Douchebags

Douchiest thing I've heard on stage this week:

"You ever been on a set of a web series and all they have is a veggie platter?"

I just sat at a mic for 2 1/2 hours. I got pulled 2nd to last. It was an eternal struggle to muster any energy for my own material, I almost shit on a comedian that went up before me. Never a good idea. Should I comment on how their mic is run? Definitely not. Am I allowed to punch a wall after the 2-hour mark? Relax man, every open mic'r goes through this, I'm not special.

I step outside for a couple minutes. That's the best idea. Take a few deep breaths, get some fresh air. Regroup, look over the jokes I want to do. Go back in.

I gotta take a break from this open mic and have a James Dean moment. Everyone hates my jacket- my comic identity is not working. Who the fuck am I? Why are you taking my picture? I'm sooo MIZ--WAH-BULLLL.

The set goes ok, but now I'm a major tool if I leave before the last comic goes up. I want those 5 minutes, I want to run out to my car and peel out, but this poor jerk has been waiting longer than me. So I watch the set and be supportive. Does anyone get a prize for sitting through an entire mic? I know that sounds funny, all of us should be supporting the open mic, but that was a fucking marathon. Almost everyone else bounced, it's just part of the game. I don't have to stay, but I know how it feels to perform to two people, so every once in awhile I stay.

When I started standup I was overly supportive. I thought that was how it worked. I'd watched people pop in, do their set and leave immediately. I'd think, what the fuck? What a bunch of assholes! There's three people watching and everyone else is hanging out in the other room. Oh Marty, you ignorant lass. I didn't know about the grind then. Multiple mics, pop-ins, favors, favoritism, clicks, and networking whores. Then me, a shitty amateur that doesn't even know he's shitty yet.

A lot of comics have a built-in audience. 3 friends that laugh at everything they say. It's a packaged deal, they turn up to mics together. They call their friends out in the audience and make in-jokes. Haha, I just laughed at how silly I'm being on stage! (mugs their way to victory)

After awhile they start to sound the same too. It's like the valley girl equivalent for standups. Their voice goes up and it sounds like a question....but it's noooot? Kill me now. 

That's usually what they end on, kill me now or fuck my life.

Fuck your life? You're booked on every show asshole! You've duped enough people to believe that you're funny, you're doing great!

I hate it when I've been sitting for an hour and a bunch of comics arrive late and add their names to the bucket. Then they get drawn before me. Man it's a huge bitchslap. Fucking lottery...the worst.

I start going back to that paper-folding theory. Throw your name in last, they forget to mix it up and keep picking paper off the top!  When you sign up first come, first served on a list it's different. Showing up late and then having to go dead-last isn't a big deal, it's not like you're bumping anybody because of your yuk-cred. Unless the host just desperately wants to go home or whatever, but going last is rarely a good thing. 

Going with friends can help. My friends don't always laugh at my bullshit, trust me. I have to be pretty spontaneous or have a new joke up my sleeve. But we might as well suffer together, so we can vent about it later, share a story, talk about the people we saw. So if you've made any friends in this ghastly scene, do yourself a favor- GO TOGETHER. It's a whole different experience. Going to multiple mics and hearing everyone's perspective is great. First impressions, comics you may have noticed, the host, random hilarity. Good to share all those things on the drive. You might as well go to war together.

There was a point where I started getting more than 1 show every couple a months. Multiple shows. I got over eager and wanted to invite friends out to some of these dive bars. Now I wish I could just be a total dick and make flyers with all my dates, with a little Asterix next to the shows that are in nice venues. A skull and cross bones to represent venues with possible rat infestations (more on that later)

I hate it when a friend decides to advertise with an invite riddled with curse words and then tags me. "PLEASE COME OUT TO THE SHOW YA FUCKING CUNTS, IT'S GONNA BE A OFF THE CHIZZ-ARTS...dickholes are fun!"

You're not helping me dude. Most of my friends are pushing forty and you sound like an asshole. This isn't eye-candy advertising,

"Your flyer with the shit-covered toilet really spoke to me, I had to come out and support! At the very least check out the bathroom!"

But yeah, a lot of the bar shows I'll just post on Facebook and Instagram, lazy effort, but it's out there. I don't have my own fanbase yet, sorry! 

This old man named Barry opened up his set with how God hates faggots and that he knows one thing's for sure, Jesus wasn't gay. Then he proceeded to act out a bit about Moses (For a second I thought he was trying to do an old Cosby bit from Carson) and lead with a flamboyant limp-wrist impression. The worst part of it was the stupid woman that was supporting him, clapping and laughing the whole time. They had come to the mic together of course.

"Praise God!" she said.

"Why don't they just get some pussy- I don't understand this faggot shit!"

"HAK-HAK-HAK-HAK-HAK," the friend laughs, looking around as if to say- he's amazing!

I was so angry that I couldn't let it go for the next 30 minutes, plotting how to destroy these fuckheads. What tactic should I use? A joke about Jesus sucking cock? What's the ultimate trigger for this piece of shit? How would he feel if I went up on stage and did his own material back to him, but replaced Faggot with another slur? Oh boy. Yeah, I would be banned for life and I would probably have all the time in the world to write these blogs. Fighting anger with anger. Slur with slur. I'd destroy myself before getting through to this guy.

A comic went up a little later and addressed Barry's set with some jokes about Jesus masturbating, and that helped me calm down a bit. I just didn't want to have to perform for these idiots, they sat in the front row for the entire mic. 

Later I watched an arrogant dude named Drake eat chips on stage- he was also angry about certain groups of people that were left unnamed. What the fuck is with this place? Everyone wants to share their deepest hatred here. When the host lighted him he said,

"Yeah, I see it, go away."

After he sat back down he vaped from his seat. There's your poster boy right there, vapers.

How the hell do you recover from watching so much toxic waste? Am I weak because I let this shit affect me? I'm not writing a gotcha blog, I see this at mics all the time. But I step away, try to calm down and then still attempt to be funny. I don't make a scene..even though I want revenge immediately and my face feels red hot. I can't even appreciate the jokes coming out of the next comic's mouth- whether it's good or not, because I'm temporarily paralyzed- the venom rushing through my body. The kettle will boil1` for hours, but I try to compose myself on stage and not make things worse..or God forbid, awwwwkwarrrd? I can turn my brain off most of the time and endure all the predictable misogyny, the gay jokes, the little people jokes, race race race, "fuck you guys for not laughing, that's funny!!"

I'm worried about the long-term effect. Will it affect my relationship, to the point where I start to turn on Claire? 

It was just one night man, shake it off.

I got pretty close to snapping the other night. A group of bumblefucks were sitting in Shanghai'd during the open mic and made a game out of cheering or clapping really loud every time someone came out of the bathroom. Because that's what's funny in high-five culture. They kept doing it and it would totally derail whatever joke the comic was doing. They did it once, then twice during my set and I got really angry. I'm weird when I'm angry.

I got back to the jokes and had an ok dismount, but that's kind of the worst part. If I'm funny, then these douchebags come out and pretend to be my friend, like the nerd that gets a pass because he did everybody's homework. Yeah, I was funny for you, don't worry about it. You guys are great at fantasy football and rape, that's your thing! I'll do the jokes. 

One guy clapped me on the back,

"WORST!"

Die soon buddy. Die soon. You can always single out the bullies in the audience, they love my last name- they've been bullies all their life.

We just went to a mic where they have rats. We saw them, they were running past the curtain. Two separate incidents and nobody was talking about it. My buddy Kenny was just about bursting, the excitement in his eyes, just wanting to get on stage and address it. I filmed him just in case he really flew off the handle or got some backlash. If anything, the audience was still pretending it didn't happen.

It's been a few days and the depression comes creeping back again. I watched Drag Me To Hell last night. It has one of my favorite downbeat endings. Alison Lohman is cursed and the demons will never leave her alone and at the end they're literally dragging her down to hell. Yeah, I think it relates to standup, haha it can get pretty fucking grim. How long can I keep running away from these bastards?

I feel like these blogs bring out the WURST in me!

You get it? YOU FUCKING GET IT?

(resumes gang-bang, high-fives all around through waves of idiotic laughter)

Mish-mash of Comedy Musings

I write my name on the paper strip and glance into the bucket to see if the paper strips are folded and then fold my paper accordingly. I got a tip early on that if I should drop my name into the bucket 5 minutes before the mic starts, my name would be closer to the surface. Superstition among comedians. Sure enough, I got called up first at The Hollywood Improv with this method. Most of the time I drop my name too early and then my name isn't pulled for a good hour. Maybe there's something to this. When my name is on the bottom, the host doesn’t always mix it well enough to get that baby back to the surface.

Why do I even think about this bullshit, just throw the name in.

********************************************************************************

The Devastator (a partial set)

One day she decided to meet me half way. She decided she was on board with anal sex...yeah. So that way technically she could still be a virgin...at least in God’s eyes and I would get what I want. And BOY let me tell you man, everything they say about the ass is 100% true, the tip just slides right in man and aww fuck... my asshole hasn’t felt the same since.

Scattered laughs. It’s over-rehearsed, but the joke sort of delivers. He’s wearing a loud Aloha shirt of the Weird Al variety. It feels like a put-on. He came with his friend, who of course is filming his set. He’s going by the name of Devastator. I can’t stand him and I don’t care what the fuck he’s doing. His tone is vaguely arrogant, but there’s clearly no truth behind his material and his delivery is boring.

The last girl I was dating was a fucking asshole. She made me do things I didn’t want to do. The last time I talk to her was...pretty rough. She made me stop watching black porn. Which is ridiculous man...I don’t fuck black women- I have nothing against them, I just can’t have babies with them because I have something weird called sickle-cell trait- you guys know what I’m talking about...it means my kid would come out retarded, so that’s the only reason I wouldn’t go out with them...that and cuz they’re black.

Wakka wakka. He ends his next joke prematurely, leaves the stage, putting on an air of “That’s EXACTLY how I wanted this to go down,” and exits through the side door to the parking lot.

Part of me wants to follow them down the sidewalk, close enough to hear them brag about their accomplishment,

"How fast can we upload this video?"

"That was so Andy Kaufman right there!"

Then I would interrupt,

“Excuse me, DEVASTASTOR? That was amazing man, I’ve never seen anything like that. So BALLSY and unfunny, just like you planned!”

"YO, this guy GETS ME!"

**********************************************

Some guy saw me standing around and introduced himself. He turned out to be the one thing that made the open mic worthwhile.

***********************************************

I was sitting next to a heckler at a bar while an open mic was going on. The host almost had a meltdown dealing with the guy earlier and for now it seemed like the heckler had won. He was yelling from across the room, so he clearly had the advantage over the host, who had to squint at his enemy through the lights. I was tempted to ask him for an interview, but he gave me the information I wanted pretty quick. The heckler complained to his neighbors that it was a bar, "Fuck them if they can’t handle it. Maybe they should perfect their craft first!"

Meanwhile, this guy showed up alone to drink, sharing boring conversations with like-minded idiots. I guess he perfected his craft.

(dramatic One-Up sound as if Marty schooled the man through a shitty blog entry months later)

************************************************

The crowd slowly filtered out, and I recognized an elderly couple giving each other loving looks. My heart swelled. They had chosen stand-up comedy for a date night. They were laughing through the entire show and on their way out the old man excitedly explained to his wife, "It was THE WAY he made the microphone stand an extension of his penis...that's what separated him from the other comics!" For a moment, I felt triumphant, until I realized he wasn't talking about MY SET, but Jareth's...who had stolen my bit for his own selfish shot of glory. (to be continued)

**************************************************

I'm going to be guesting on a few podcasts:

Comedian Talk (comedians talking about comedy)

Comic Gab (comedians talking about stuff related to comedy)

Funny As *%#! (comedians talking shit about stuff and comedy)

I Can't Stand That Mother-*%@! (comedians talking shit about comedians)

Comedians That Love Cats (comedians having cat discussions with token pussy jokes)

I'm Depressed (comedians working on their openers)

Dude, How'd You Do It? (comedians begging successful friends for advice that doesn't involve actual work)

Yeah, But You're White (black comedians guilting white comedians one joke at a time)

Yeah, But White People Have Problems Too (white comedians trying to convince black comedians that they understand the struggle)

Let's Get Baked (comedians getting high and struggling to make it funny)

Comedy Club Podcast (club owners talking about comedy classes and name-dropping. They need interns!)

I Killed Last Night (2+ year comedians bragging about their amazing sets to anyone who will listen)

Too Soon? (comedians ripping into celebrities that just died, with discussion about cutting-edge comedy)

I Have A Podcast (a comedian who co-created a podcast with a guy who gave up on it after 3 episodes. Should he keep recording?)

***************************************************

"SO you're a comedian, ay? Tough racket. Have a seat son. How long have you been on stage? A YEAR? Wow, you're still wet behind the ears. (fondly) I remember when I told my first rape joke. Seems like the day before yesterday. I went by the name of Johnny Bonkers. I used to take a banana and stick it up my ass. Then I never addressed it- I just went into my act. I alienated millions! It was very courageous for the time. But anyway, let me give you one piece of advice. Sometimes, you'll feel alone up there, when it's so dark you can't see if anyone is out there and there's that devil of a spotlight BLINDING YOU... and you can't remember the next joke, you're covered in flop sweat, and you start to feel the old ticker head-butting your chest, trying to escape the nightmare that is taking place. But you can't just leave! Because there's always that ONE COMEDIAN out there. Watching you...and you know what? He WANTS to watch you shit your pants. So let him have it."

- excerpt from "A Stand-Up Guy" A one-act play written by Johnny Bonkers.

*****************************************************

The laughs are not good enough anymore, I'm chasing after that laugh-clap. Am I a comedian or a bonafide junkie?

*****************************************************

There seems to be a pattern where I bomb miserably at a show and then I hit up a second mic where I have no expectations...or hope. I'm completely numb from bombing, but I end up having a good set. Because I'm loose, relaxed, and just being myself. This gave me the idea that I would go into every mic with the mentality that I already bombed in spectacular fashion, sulking my way to the stage, but I could only trick myself so far. The moment I gained confidence, I would start mugging my way through bits and trying too hard once again. Maybe I need a little guardian angel to approach me as I'm walking to the stage- give a quick whisper,

"You suck."

********************************************************

Don't Forget To Funny!

Shitting on people in conversation. Shitting on the Comedy Store potluck, it's clearly rigged! Shitting on people in jest because I'm fresh off a Roast Battle and just can't help myself. Shitting on other comedians because my comedy is far superior. Shitting on people when I guest on a podcast. Shitting on lowly beginners who don't know any better. Shitting on my own comedy. Shitting on people on stage. Shitting on the venue. Shitting on the host who means well, but still fucked up my name. Writing a shitty review on ITunes, just so I can shit on the host who I hate.

Shitting on the comedy couples who stick together. Shitting on podcasts that I wish I was invited on. Shitting on bookers that never book me. Shitting on comics that never say hi. Shitting on hosts that don't even try.

Shitting on bringer shows. Shitting on your Instagram account. Shitting on your pool party with your stoner friends. Shitting on your sexy pics.

Shitting on your stupid ass glossy flyer that misrepresents the shithole I'm performing in. Shitting on your outrageous cover charge for a show full of amateurs. Shitting on becoming a Comedy Store Regular- why you? Shitting on your tour. Shitting on your GoFundMyShittyComedyChannel.

Shitting on everyone in a public forum because you're all against me. Shitting on other clubs. Shitting on talent coordinators. Shitting on the 1-drink minimum. Shitting on you because I can't take a compliment. Shitting on you for being on your phone. Shitting on you for talking during my set. Shitting on you for leaving right away.

Shitting on your pre-booked open mics. Shitting on your living situation. Shitting on comedy festivals. Shitting on comedy contests. Shitting on clean comedy shows. Shitting on your inability to skip the rape joke. Shitting on hecklers. Shitting on your first open mic videos.

Shitting on your Twitter joke. Shitting on your pathetic merch. Shitting on your attempt to brand yourself with a catchphrase. Shitting on your hashtags.

Shitting on your blogs. Shitting on The Comedy Bureau. Shitting on that Netflix special. Shitting on improv, actors, and anyone who wants to check off comedy on their bucket list.

Shitting on tags that I didn't ask for. Shitting on your webseries. Shitting on your workout pics. Shitting on your inspirational quotes. Shitting on your sudden change of attitude you hypocrite.

Shitting on your new headshots, shitting on you for quitting comedy or not quitting comedy. Shitting on you for starting comedy. Shitting on you for pitching a joke to me.  Shitting on you for doing a show in your underwear. Shitting on the person who just died. Shitting on you for joking about it and beating me to it.

Shitting on all the negative fucks that I want to distance myself from. Shitting on desperate cries for help. Shitting on someone who just wants a sincere answer on Facebook. Shitting on people that just want someone to stand up for them. Shitting on your political beliefs. Shitting on you for getting political. Shitting on you for being emotional.

Man I'm exhausted. What am I doing here again?

15 Minutes in Spokane

Amber Scalzo and I are hitting the road. Santa Cruz, Coos Bay, Seattle, Spokane. Maybe Boise, Grass Valley, San Francisco and Bakersfield on the way back. It's a long haul for only a couple of shows and whatever open mics we manage to get on. Is this a tour or a very long drive?

Comedian Amber Scalzo.

I feel bad about it, but it wasn't for lack of trying. I've been down many rabbit holes the last couple of months, searching for mics and shows, trying to put the puzzle pieces down and creating a schedule that makes sense. Hitting up bookers and friends of bookers. Some of my LA friends tried to help and they came through. Some bookers asked for our stand up clips and never got back to me. Damn. It hurts that we don't have stand up clips that are current, I think it's blowing our opportunities. Then my new laptop died on me, so now I can't even edit the recent stand up footage I got of us. Great timing. When I load up my Macbook Pro it looks like an 8 bit video game that gets stuck on the apple boss.

I think the uncertainty of the trip makes me nervous too. We have two shows that are spread out and a lot of breathing room. Will we hit this mic, can we make the drive in time, should we just go here instead and meet up with these people or power it out and drive through the night? Boise or Everett? Portland or Grass Valley?

Fuck it all. This is what I love. To go on the road. This is an adventure. I'm super lucky to be able to do this. I'm unemployed and my girlfriend is letting me take her car so I can drive 2,400 miles. She knows I have to do this and she understands the difficult world of comedy that I've chosen.

Portrait of a saint.

So why feel bad about it? I'm already going on my 2nd trip, with only 4 years into comedy. I'm going to see some cousins and Amber and I have multiple places to crash. All we have to do is drive, try to get some sleep and do some stand up comedy. Yeah, there are some nights where it's just impossible to get to a mic without killing ourselves to get there, it's not worth it, we need our sleep. Sometimes the days and mics are not going to align perfectly. I guess that's when those pop-up mics come in handy, I gotta get my own setup like Johnnie Flowers.

We did a pop-up mic in front of a 24 Hour Walmart at 1 in the morning. Lot of shoppers surprisingly. Love the giant magnet sign that Johnnie slaps on his car. He just brings a simple speaker and microphone with him wherever he goes. "Sometimes, I don't even get out of the car!" Here's a sample of the experience here And a behind the scenes look at this operation here

Claire is carpooling and taking the bus while I'm gone. She lives close to work, but I still feel like I'm leaving her life in shambles. She's totally fine with it and only encourages me. I started feeling lonely last night and I'm missing her already. There's always Facetime and consoling emojis I suppose.

I'll be able to feed our cat Tune with this handy Kittyo app that I have on my phone. We have a Kittyo machine (it looks like a blender) that shoots kitty treats and has a laser pointer- so I can interact with the cat remotely. You know, the necessities in life. It barely works, but it gives me a cheap thrill. It was a Kickstarter project that was 2 years late on the delivery date and then it took me a year to get the damn thing working. Some things are worth waiting for. Now I can shoot treats at Tune's dumbfounded face!!!

I told my mom about the trip and when she found out I was going with a woman there was a long pause.

"Oh...that's nice. So Claire is okay with that?"

"Yeah... I mean Amber is a comedian too, we're just friends."

"Does she have a boyfriend?"

"No."

It was pretty uncomfortable and I even started to question myself. Wait, am I doing the right thing? Is there something wrong with this picture?

Claire was listening and she quickly pointed out that my mom must think I sleep around. Yeah...what the fuck? It's not like we're getting motels together or sharing a fucking sleeping bag. We're crashing on friends couches and driving a couple thousand miles to do less than an hour of comedy. And what does that say about Amber? Single people just hopelessly fuck out of desperation? It doesn't matter with who, where, or when, as long as it's a "plump delicious cock"? That's a Norm Macdonald description, sorry.

I'm no skank and besides, Amber likes men, not comedians.

The last time I hit the road was almost a year ago. Tom Allen, John Parr, and Casey, our video guy, hit Arizona for 5 days. We were extremely lucky. We had 7 booked shows and a couple of open mics thrown in the mix. A paid hotel, courtesy of my Aunt Dorise and Uncle Marty- incredible gesture. I was expecting to crash on their floor with a bunch of cats next to me, but they were happy to do it. To top it off, my Uncle passed away after the trip, so it was the last time I got to see him.

Casey filmed nearly all of our sets and some great behind-the-scenes footage, but we never saw it. Weeks after the trip, he said all the stuff he filmed was lost and then he abruptly moved back to Colorado. It's really a shame, our first comedy trip lost, so we'll just have to go by memory:

We did a backyard show, a dive bar, an upscale restaurant, a pizzeria, a blackbox theater and a comedy club. Every night was totally different and kept us on our toes. I had my first drunk woman rush the stage and blather at me,

"Wurst Wurst!"

Tom had the lights go out in the middle of his set at the Firehouse space. The outdoor crew rushed to fix it and 5 minutes later the spotlight came back on and Tom picked up right where he left off. We also watched Tom go into a sports bar no less than 3 times to ask a bartender out, but he would make a B-line for the bathroom every time because he was nervous. He would return to the parking lot, looking defeated, and John would start to build him up again until he reluctantly caved in and marched right back. Goddamn it was funny. We got invited to a coke party after a show. We ran into Arizona's Mike Enders EVERYWHERE. He almost became a parody of himself- the shit-eating grin, the warm greetings around the room, drunker and drunker every time we saw him. I'll have to write about Arizona in a separate entry.

Anyway, I guess we'll never see that footage. I'll just have to film these experiences myself from now on. Arizona was one of the best experiences of my life and now I have another trip to look forward to....tomorrow!

Bueller is a rich asshole that manipulates his best friend and gets away with everything, but man it looks fun. "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it."

Got some good playlists. Going to have the blackest coffee, blacker than the souls that frequent The Blacklight District Lounge. I've got the right partner in crime. We have shows. There are mics to be had. No swanky hotel this time, just couches and floors and maybe a bed, but I might as well thank everyone in advance.

THANK YOU.

You want to do this some day? Here's Ron Babcock's helpful guide:

Ron Babcock's Do-it-yourself Standup Tour Guide

Something that really helped me is going through my Facebook friends and writing down a list of every state and linking my friends to the state and city, so I could map out a trip and know where my contacts are. I asked for places to crash or just invited them out to a show. No shame in it. I have family all over, so this is a good way to connect, even if it's incredibly brief. We gotta hang out when we can and help eachother out!

I also wrote down all my phone numbers in a notebook in case my phone decides to die on me. I guess I could write down all the directions too, but I'll just trust that one of us will have a working phone. Or use a handy Thomas Guide! (blows the dust off) *cough cough*

Oh and the day after we get back from this trip, I'm doing a show in Phoenix. Bad scheduling on my part.

YOU NO GO, STUPID!

I'll be back kitty. I should take that Medieval Times crown out of my suitcase.

Comedy Reminders to Myself (to others it may not apply)

1. Sometimes, it's not about the show. It's about the people you meet before/after. Oh yeah, I met that fantastic person at that shit show!

2. There may be less than 5 people in the audience, but they're nice enough to listen and they want to be entertained. Fucking give it to them! You never know who is watching.

3. Make eye contact. Don't be checked out and staring at the back wall.

4. Have something fun to say when you get on stage. Maybe a little thing to add to the last comedian's joke. A callback to something. A little greeting- something goofy, anything!

5. Before the show it's always good to meet the other people on the bill. Why be an anti-social asshole? Find out what these other people are all about. We're all awkward, it's not a big deal. Get past it now and try to learn their names.

6. If you're going to be on your phone, for fucks sake, don't sit near the stage! You're setting a bad example to comedians and you're telling other people in the audience that it's okay to check out.

7. Take a compliment and don't shit on your set. Just say thank you.

8. Don't shit on the venue, don't shit on other comics and stop being negative.

9. Don't give out compliments if you don't mean it. Just be genuine.

10. Take a deep breath, relax. Enjoy what you're doing.

Work hard. Be funny. HAVE FUN.

This Half-Assed Hustle (compiled truths and occasional fiction)

2:25pm

Driving up to Los Angeles with my Spotify playlist on shuffle. Some day I would like to be driving a car full of comics, singing along to Lady Marmalade as we drive 100 miles to our next gig.

3:21pm

I have to piss so bad. I gotta get out of this fucking car. Adjusting my seat to find any angle that gives my bladder even the slightest relief. You can't pull a Dumb and Dumber in your girlfriend's car, you're not pissing into that bottle.

3:40pm

Park at Amoeba Music and then walk over to Arclight Hollywood. I haven't seen a movie here in years, but I'll happily take a piss any chance I get. The dome is especially good for taking a dump- best bathroom in Hollywood. Its been 10 years since I quit and I still have a couple of friends that work here. Amazing.

3:47pm

Go through hundreds of "As Is" used DVDs, prices ranging from $1.99-7:99. I'm gradually buying back my old collection- this was my addiction for awhile. I've bought and sold and repurchased DVDs from this place dozens and dozens of times. Losing money every time. Like when I first moved to LA and didn't have a checking account, so I'd go to one of those Check Cashing places and they'd take a huge chunk. I've perfected so many ways of losing money. Some comedian said, "I'm the Michael Jordan of overdraft fees." I think most comedians could've written that.

5:10pm

Meltdown Comics

Sign my name on the scrap of paper and throw it in the lunch pail. I see a comic that I want to say hi to, but I'm too worried he's going to think I'm kissing up to be on his show. Forced conversation might raise suspicions. He's kind of goofy like I am. In the end, I shy away. We give mutual nods of acknowledgement instead. I've made attempts in the past, but it never lasts past a couple of pleasantries. Goddammit, why do I act like it's a fucking audition, just relax.

5:20pm

The room is starting to fill up. People are smoking out back. I have a few exchanges with other male comics. Majority of comedians in Los Angeles are familiar with this dialogue:

"You going to the Store next?"

"Nah, I'm gonna bounce to Marty's or Pig N Whistle. You?"

"If I don't get up at the Store I'll go down to The Improv Space."

"Cool, cool."

It's all hollow and predictable, but I say these things all the time. Where you coming from? Where you bouncing to next? Is that a good mic? How many minutes? You got anything coming up?

If I find out the person I'm talking to was booked on a cool show I'll get a little pissed off. It'll show on my face too, I'm an incredibly bad liar. It's completely insane, it doesn't even matter if I genuinely like the person, I'll still feel a flash of jealousy. It's involuntary at this point, I've programmed myself to be competitive against everyone because everyone is doing things that I'm not.

Then I remind myself that I'm not very good yet. I don't have to be everywhere, Jesus. Get good and then worry about that shit!

Awkward hug. Forgot that person's name.

5:35pm

One of two hosts calls out my name for the 20th spot. Shit. I probably can't do The Store and then bounce back and make it work, so I guess I'll just be here. Some of the other guys know how to flip-flop to multiple places, but I haven't figured it out yet. It's a little disheartening when 3/4 of the room clears out and there's less than ten people in the audience.

6:20pm

Still waiting around. They worked in some of the more established comics into the line up, which drags things out. Still burns my ass when someone drops in for five minutes and then they're gone in a flash. Must be nice.

I step outside and I have a conversation with Jeff for a bit. He talks my ear off about surface level comedy shit and keeps asking me questions. It's irritating because he immediately looks down at his phone when I start to answer and then he asks me again. It all feels out of obligation and reinforces my fear of losing my own personality someday; where I become an automatic networking robot of a comic that vomits out the same line of bullshit over and over. Never connecting with people, only advertising, advertising, posting, tweeting, and screaming at all the other comics, HEY- HERE"S WHAT I'M DOING- HERE I AM! PICTURE OF ME AT SHOW. PICTURE OF ME HAVING ACCOMPLISHED THIS THING. PICTURE OF ME POSING WITH BETTER COMIC THAT SHOULD HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH ME!

7:10pm

I'm on stage and only half way through a joke when the realization that I'm bombing stifles the little energy that I have. I feel myself trailing off and force myself to finish. It's painful. I even got a fake laugh, which is worse than silence because it probably came from another comic. I'm supposed to listen to this set on my phone later to find out where I went wrong. How about when I got on the stage?

7:15pm

I'm scrolling through other open mic options on The Comedy Bureau. I really just want to go home. I don't want to pay $5 for a mic I can't stand, or a 1-drink minimum when I don't want to drink. I mean, I could get a soda, but when I'm at a bar I just gravitate towards beer. Why do I keep going to these 3 minute mics and waste my time with tried and failed material? Where's the progress Wurst?

By the time I decide on one, it'll be too late for me to get there in time. I suppose I could pop into Tribal and see what's happening. A nostalgic stop that probably won't do much for my mood, but I already bombed once anyway.

The romantic side of me wants to spend the remainder of my monthly allowance on a Reuben sandwich at Canters. Write jokes with coffee and a sandwich. Then worry about money later. But would you really write anything?

I like to bottom out. When I have a little money, I quickly burn through it almost to get it over with, embracing the inevitable. Then I hit zero and it's a reset button. I get help from my Dad, or I occasionally land some random gig with filming or editing. The audiobooks were completely unrealistic; I basically donated a few hundred work hours and barely made anything. I'll work my ass off on projects that make little to no return. I go after the impossible each time. Acting, filming, now comedy and audiobooks, why does anyone continue to support me?

7:26pm

I have Claire on the phone. She says I'm not a piece of shit. I was trying to convince her otherwise, but she knows my self-esteem is just low, because I bombed and now I'm just trying to bear-hug all the negative things that I can. I am a good person. I'm just incredibly stupid.

She says I'm not stupid. She says that I'm kind and generous. I finally give in and tell her I love her. I tell her there's a chance I'm going to hit one more mic. She asks me to text her when I'm heading home.

7:40pm

Sitting in the car, thinking I should've signed up at Anchor Bar for a late spot. That would've been perfect. Just get the fuck out of LA, you're burned out on this side. Maybe I could visit an old friend while I'm up here. I could go back to Amoeba and get that Kung-Fu movie for four bucks. Go home and eat that can of black beans and not spend another dime. Do mics in Long Beach the next week without spending anything.

I could easily make it to Mel's or Big Wangs later. The list at Tribal could be a mile long- plus I think you're supposed to order a sandwich now. Their food is good but their service sucks.

7:49pm

Hit the library just before it closed. A little inspiration might help! Autobiographies from Sarah Silverman, David Spade, and Bernie Mac! Plus a book about Cult Films and Facts I Should Know- warm up the brain matter, possible premises. I love walking out with a shitload of books!

9:30pm

Who calls it a night when comedy is just starting? This guy!

Claire is still up and our fatty kitty Tune is sitting an inch from her face, her paws propped up on her favorite human's chest. She's in purr mode, but when I get close she briefly sniffs my face for identification. I check out.

Sometimes it's not the number of mics I hit. I hit a wall tonight and needed an out. I need to cut myself a break. So many people are working harder than me and I know it. What's it going to take man?