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?

No Comedy Advice.

Who the fuck is this guy? Should I confirm our friendship? We have 152 mutual friends. About a hundred of THOSE friends are comedian acquaintances. 40 of those I don't know if I've ever met.

I'm close to 1,200 friends. I can't believe how much this has jumped since I started comedy. I'm constantly adding people, I've got a backlog worse than my Netflix queue. That Netflix remark is dated now, everyone is streaming- FUCK.

Half the guys I talk to are constantly roasting. There's no flow of conversation anymore, it's just insult after cheap insult. I just walk into a room and someone is commenting on my wardrobe and my haircut, followed by their impressions of an airhorn- BUH-BUH-BUHHHHHHH.

I'm doing the Roast Battle again. I'm dreading it. I want to puke from the anxiety and bury my head under my pillow. It's not about the jokes anymore. I'm throwing myself into the lion's den. They just need another excuse to hate my stupid face and I'll give it to them. The mumbly guy, the Wurst, he's older- fuck him. I stutter out my jokes, Mike Lawrence destroys me. Periscope followers agree, this guy is truly the worst.

I don't have to worry, but I do. I lost the first time, but it was a fantastic night. Everyone was warm and supportive.  I got good advice from experienced roasters...I didn't take the advice, but I loved it just the same. I was a part of something great for one night.

My girlfriend defends every mistake I make in comedy. She knows I'm just venting and need to blow off steam, so she hears me out and builds me back up. I have to destroy myself in order to rebuild a better version of myself. Constantly updating software. Marty 2.0. Marty 2.5 Marty X. Now I'm driven and motivated. Hey, I accidentally had fun writing a new joke- how did that happen?

Oh yeah, I've been doing this comedy thing for years. Its always been there. Standup is just new and hard, but I'm learning. I'll get better. I have to. I have my own voice. That will always be my ace. A lot of people just hate this voice and I don't blame them. It's not sure what it wants to be. I need to remind myself what I'm going to do every time I walk up on stage. All those motivational things that I've read or written down in my phone, but never remember to look at again.

It's fun, right? It has to be fun, man.

Never let them know that you have doubts.

I just apologized for the next premise before telling the joke, JESUS!

My cat is burying her poop right now as I write this. She stares at me sometimes and it reminds me of the all-comedian audience that I'm bombing in front of. There's a similarity in the gaze. Neither audience understands that I'm funny. I want to scream, I swear I'm funny! Not for you, but maybe some day!

My cat just laughed at me. That hurts. It's terrifying too, but her timing is uncanny.

Open Mic Comedian Gary Has A Meltdown (Fiction) WARNING: PooPoo-Language.

Fuck this mic man, it’s for a bunch of pussies. I can’t believe I got kicked out for calling the owner a cunt, you can’t say anything anymore, it’s too PC! Fucking social justice warriors will probably write a blog about how they wish they could have this DEE-YICK!

Anyway, I’m going to Lexington later- they don’t give a fuck. I kicked a man in the stomach and did 20 minutes to his mom. He thanked me for it.

Dude...you should go to The Next Stage. It’s like, there’s no fucking judgement you know, everyone just gets naked and fucks and the lights are really pretty.

Marty’s man, you gotta do Marty’s people are REAL there, for reals. Where else can you do 30 minutes for a cockroach? Then you can go to the other room and do another 78 minutes to a couch occupied by the ghost of a dead comedian that hung himself. Dude...if you get your picture on the wall... no one will ever know, because two photos down, there’s a picture of a woman with her titties out, that’s all anyone sees anymore.

Dude, do the Oeno Vino man, they have a great selection of cheeses and a really good selection from the Cass Winery- I highly recommend comedy and the cheese bullshit.

Hey man, Flappers! Do the audition show. Bring people though. Kill yourself! High five.

How can you not do Delicious Vinyl man? Just fucking DEWWW IT MANNNNN. Fucking pink lights- fuggin...fuggin pink lights bro- WOOO WOOO, vinyl and shit in the title- punk rock and smell your farts out back! ALLL right!

Hey man. Comedy Store potluck. I’m loyal as fuck. I sign up every week on the dot. Got up 6 times in 17 years. It’s only a matter of time. You might want to hop on the train now because I’m going FULL SPEED AHEEEAAAAD.  Chugga Chugga- WOO WOOOO! PINK LIGHTS BRO- CALL BACK! (roundhouse kick)

Meltdown Comics is the best open mic to hear people laugh in the sound booth-HANDS DOWN. They’re having such a great time back there! DO IT ASSHOLE! DON’T YOU LIKE COMICS? GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF THE NINJA TURTLE STATUE, IT’S DYING!

You gotta do Rockpaper Man. WHO CARES IF IT’S FUCKING CLOSED- TELL PEDESTRIANS TO SUCK YOUR DICK- IT’S THE SAME THING!

Hey...hey...if you want to really get serious about comedy? Laugh Factory man. Nobody waits a fucking week to perform at an open mic, but I do! I’m so funny man, I made that Burt Bernie guy laugh so hard and that guy has seen some shit! Jamie watched my set via FaceSkypeShowcase and I think I’m going to feature for the turd in the bathroom. Anyway, I’ll send you the link when I get the tickets- if you say my name at the door you get choke-slammed Cena style- CAN’T WAIT!

You got an agent? How did you get one man!? Let me meet him- I’ll suck his wang-wang. FUCK IT. I don’t need that shit, I got this comedy dick!

Hey...if you want to do heroin later, I’ll be at the Buttfuck Backyard Bucket Mic in Burbank.

THE END

YEAR 2: The Worst Comedian

"Coming up right now, I hope he brings his...BEST material, uhhh, MARTY WURST MUCH?"

After bombing this particular set at the Silverlake Lounge, the host added,

"Marty Wurst...he has the secret to comedy, being loud."

That got a big laugh of course and nothing felt worse than some cheap shot after I already bombed. Everyone there hated me. It was like high school all over again. I'd go to these mics and sure, I sucked, but it struck me that the same group of stuffy assholes were laughing at each other's sets no matter how lousy their jokes were.

Self-deprecating comment (laughter). Fuck my life! (laughter) I should probably just kill myself (laughter, clapping). I don't even want to do comedy tonight...(standing ovation, ticker-tape parade, group orgy ensues).

Then I'd go up and just... nothing. Crickets puking.

I started off in 2013 with an adventurous spirit, where I was willing to try characters and bizarre bits on stage, but the constant bombing made me shy away- plus comedians I looked up to were always insisting, "You have to make it personal."

I've always resisted that. Why can't I just be goofy and absurd?

Nobody was buying it. They saw through my lies and I couldn't sell it, that's why.

I was determined to hit mics, though. Once I spent 5 hours on public transportation for a whopping 7 minutes of stage time. I must've been out of my fucking mind. One night I missed the last bus and was stuck in Hollywood, so I just wandered around for a few hours until I could take the train back to Long Beach the next morning. I wanted to hang out at The Comedy Store until 2 a.m., but I couldn't miss that last train!

I didn't mind taking the Blue Line up to Hollywood at first. I could read, listen to podcasts, work on jokes, and not worry about traffic. 90 minute trip. Honestly, I was afraid to start driving again, but Claire eventually persuaded me to take her car, for safety's sake. There were a couple of late nights where some drunken assholes tried to mess with me on the train and I finally said fuck public transportation. It's not worth it.

The first year I hit 88 mics. The second year was closer to 200, which is still nothing compared to what most comics do in my circle. I tried to hit 4 to 8 mics a week and anything under that felt lazy. I would get moody and depressed. Sometimes I'd be out of town for the holidays and I'd be lucky to get one mic in, it was something, but then a week would go by and it'd feel like starting over again.

Explaining this process to my family always came off apologetic. It's hard for anyone outside of comedy to understand that you have to go up almost daily. I sure as hell didn't know. The fact that I was barely getting booked must've seemed like a spectacular failure to them. It still feels bad. I can't really brag about going up in bars and coffee shops. The whole bringer show fantasy was gone and now it was time to put in the actual work.

Sept. 2014, Jeanne Whitney and I took a short jaunt to San Diego for a gig at the Second Wind Bar on Navajo Road. It was my first taste of taking a drive with a friend and doing a show more than an hour away.

The Second Wind Bar (which has since closed down) was an ugly little dive bar with a pretty good stage, but hey- a show! Plus, they brought in a giant pizza- we're getting paid! The dude who put us up on the show was nice enough and the place definitely had some colorful customers.

Funny how we were just a couple of hours away and the place felt like a total redneck bar in middle America. A couple of loud, drunken ladies were trying to size me up and had a few questions about my act:

"Are you going to do jokes about Mexicans?"

"Nah, nothing like that. Just goofy stuff."

"Are you going to do jokes about Asians, like how they're bad drivers?"

"No.'

The second hag-in-command got excited,

"You should, because it's actually true. I had one cut me off on the way here! Asians can't drive!"

"I KNOW," first hag interrupted, "You're going to do jokes about JEWS."

"Probably," I said.

The way she said it, too, "JEWHOOOOS," made it particularly offensive, but at least she was enthusiastic about a comedy show. Now that there was the possibility of a racist act, the ladies would probably stick around. They might even throw out some extra tags or slurs.

I should've opened with, "So a Mexican, an Asian, and a JEWHOOO walk into a bar..."

A phone went off during my set, but other than that, the ladies were surprisingly cooperative. Maybe they couldn't handle the suspense.

When is he gonna say what I'm thinking? Here it comes...wait for it...maybe he forgot, I'll help him! (mouthing the word) jeh-whooooooo.

They tore into Jeanne instead. Jeanne fought back and was really funny--I wish I had recorded that set!

Then there was the Kill Tony show in The Belly Room. I'd tried to get up for weeks and listened to the podcast a lot. It's a crazy, wickedly funny, and occasionally maddening experience. The hosts are so mean-spirited and for some reason I still wanted to do it. The guests were a huge part of the appeal: They've had Moshe Kasher, Bill Burr, Sarah Silverman, Doug Benson, Roddy Piper, Ian Edwards--it was pretty impressive.

Comics are picked randomly out of a bucket, then they perform 1 minute of standup in front of the hosts and a couple of guest comedians. Then there's a post interview that usually involves a lot of cheap shots and ridicule at the amateur's expense. There's rarely any constructive criticism, but it does make for an entertaining show. Tony Hinchcliffe is the snarky and quick-witted host, Brian Redban is the sleazy sidekick, and there's an audience of Neanderthals that gobble up juvenile behavior. Plus, you got a guy in an Iron Patriot costume standing there for the whole show. He was sort of the show's perverted mascot. The original guy was fired, so various comedians were subbing inside a cheaper get-up.

Ian as the Iron Patriot.

I used to see the original Iron Patriot character standing on the bus and holding onto the rail because he couldn't sit down in that expensive suit.

"Next stop, Hollywood and Highland!"

During the show, I hung out in the green room and would just hover in the hall when they were calling up the next guy. They only get 5 to 6 people up each episode, and I was so used to not getting up. It was one of those nights when I started to regret signing up altogether and kind of hoped I'd be passed by again. Jamar Neighbors and Brian Moses were the guest hosts--I barely knew those guys and couldn't care less. Eccentric comedian Mugzilla had just stormed out of the room. He went after Jamar Neighbors for being a paid regular and then threw the mic down, marching off in a huff. Eddie Whitehead Jr. followed him, doing his Samuel L. Jackson schtick and then plugging his documentary on Youtube. Then I was called.

I hurried out of the green room and was completely out of breath during my entire set. I sucked hard, the material was dumb, and the interview that followed is what temporarily destroyed me. I'm a sensitive guy and not cut out for The Comedy Store's frat-boy behavior. I've always been the pussy.

They took it easy on me by the end, but the damage was done. Like Tony said, I was about to cry--I felt like shit. I kept doing these stupid bits and everyone would take it as an insult to their intelligence. I felt misunderstood and they had basically told me to quit. My voice alone seemed to infuriate Moses.

You gotta build your armor Wurst, they tare you down to make you stronger.

Are you serious? So you only thrive at the Store if you're a fucking bully?

Anyway, it was a painful lesson. I didn't grow up with a bunch of friends constantly ribbing me at school. I'm not used to being called a pedophile for entertainment purposes. It wasn't a joke at my expense, it was just punishment. My material was that annoying to them.

Somehow I made one friend on Twitter.

I'd done The Laugh Factory "audition/open mic" a few times. The owner Jamie Masada was there on my second try, but I got passed over. The process got old pretty quick and it seemed like the serious comedians I knew were avoiding that place anyway. It makes me feel good to know that Jamie had to sit through my armpit farts. TOO CONCEPTUAL, JAMIE? DID THAT ONE GO OVER YOUR HEAD?

I was really gunning for a showcase, taking schoolyard behavior to the stage. I would forget about The Laugh Factory for months and then go back with no expectations.

Bombing at The Comedy Store potluck for the first time was exhilarating. That room is pure magic. Unlike the Laugh Factory, that club never felt like a waste of time.

You sign up at 6 p.m. with 50+ comics and wait until 6:45 for the list to be posted. It's a long shot; a combination of new names that pop out, friends of the hosts, and maybe a couple of randoms. I'd hear comics grumble over and over that it's rigged, but I brought a buddy who just started standup and he was picked the first time he signed up, so you never know.

Anyway, on December 1, 2014, they posted the list and Brandon Brickz called it out,

"Marty Wurst!"

(sings) I've got the gol-den ti-cketttt!

It really was exciting. Plus Jeremiah Watkins was hosting, who I sort of knew.

You talk to comics about the Original Room and I'm sure they'll say the same thing. There's so much history, it's got the perfect stage, perfect lighting, and the whole room is painted black, so everyone is focused on the performer. It's also the most deadly when you bomb.

I bombed for 3 minutes and Jeremiah was merciful on my exit.

"Guys, he had stage presence, he had character work... should've given a little bit more than that."

The performance sucked for a number of reasons, but I finally did it.

I'd had a good set on this stage before, but it was a bringer show. The potluck open mic actually meant something. I was finally a comedian. A shitty one, but I'd been coming for months and I finally got my 3 minutes. It felt like an honest failure. Many more to come.

To be continued... (when my girlfriend proofreads the next chunk)

For the next installment about "The New Comedy Store" click here

OR Back to YEAR ONE Click here

My First and Worst Year: Producing A Show

I get caught up in the gossip. Shitting on comedians that I barely know. I'm trying to stop that. Early on, I was one those guys that would say something negative because I was trying to start a dialogue and reinforce any negative feelings I had about someone. Usually based in nothing; maybe one lousy first impression or through the grapevine on Facebook. Unfortunately, talking shit is a major way to bond with other inexperienced comics. A lot of miserable, sarcastic, unmotivated, boring comics. Or 10+ year comics that bitch about how unfair everything is. They can't talk to you for 30 seconds without shitting on something.

Now I know that's not me. I never feel good about it and it never helps.

The comics I look up to are modest, rarely say anything bad about anyone because they're just focused. They don't feed the fire. I'd rant about something and they wouldn't have anything to add to it. Maybe something along the lines of,

"Yeah, that can happen," kind of response.

I'd see the look on their face. I'm the problem.

I was the same way in Junior High. Picking on the popular kids and being obnoxious because I was so desperate to be a part of their circle. Afraid to be myself. Afraid to put in that kind of work.

I'll be obsessed with some idiot for hours on a Facebook thread, so tempted to participate in the attack, but where is it going to get me? Fuck, I could've written something. I should be writing jokes now, but I think I know something about blogging and comedy! I feel like I'm just regurgitating boring opinions that have been voiced on hundreds of podcasts already, I'll try to pepper this section up! Check out this sweet ass pimp kitty vest!

At least 7 comics named Dave would kill to have this. One cat has a chainmail helmet!

I always want to prove myself to other comics. An audience of strangers is always amazing, but I do feel the pressure of an all-comic mic. It's way too important to me. I don't want to be written off, I know I can be funny. Maybe not the last 20 times you saw me, but I'll get there, don't write me off!

When I had a decent set in front of someone I respected, I felt like I could check that off. Okay, that person doesn't think I'm a piece of shit anymore. I proved myself. Getting closer to being an actual comic! Every good set is a stepping stone. My bad sets would just temporarily render me useless. Instead of doing my homework and adjusting, I would just write something new or beat a bad joke into the ground. Maybe it'll work the 27th time.

"The people that go to Burning Man only need these two words to communicate: Burning...man!"

*crickets slashing wrists*

Only 3-4 survivors from this list and my taint is still funnier.

I bombed in front of Sean Conroy and took it kind of hard. Intimidating dude, (like the Ron Perlman of improvisation) he was sitting in the front row at Echoes Under Sunset with his arms crossed, waiting for his set and just watching me hang myself. He'd probably seen a thousand variations of the heckler character I was doing. I picked on him in character, but he wouldn't roll with it. Why would he? It was more fun to watch me squirm.

Every time I asked him a question he would answer,

"Sure."

Which is sort of the "fuck you" version of "yes and,"  It's an improv thing.

I was berating the audience for being a bunch of hipsters. Yelling out,

"Well I got something for ALL OF YOU!"

Then I started handing out free coffee coupons from a local coffee shop. Sean politely declined.

I had my bombing routine where I would call up Claire afterwards and tell her I just ate shit. Or who I ate shit in front of. She would convince me that it was okay, everybody bombs, and remind me that I'd had good sets before. She would tell me that she loved me and make me feel better about what had happened. Oh, there is life after tomorrow, I forgot! Thanks, baby!

Claire understands the grind. She's a fan of a lot of the people I look up to and we listen to a lot of the same podcasts now. She got into Jen Kirkman and The Longshot Podcast early on and now she subscribes to more comedians than I do. We went to Power Violence and a number of shows at The Improv. Pete Holmes, Todd Glass, Ron Lynch, Eddie Pepitone, Maron, Sebastian, Ian Edwards, and Tig- we love Tig. She pushed me to go on the road. She encouraged me to stop using the train and take her car instead. She makes this all possible. It's unbelievable. She even made cookies when I produced my own show.

(insert hacky Field of Dreams quote) Michael Donato designed these fantastic flyers.

I'd done a couple of shows at The Lexington with Tony Bartolone where I did some character stuff. I played a wrestler, a heckler that takes on Mr. Goodnight and a squarish Steve Allen type talk show host. Anyway, the owner liked me enough and said if I ever wanted to use the space, hit him up.

Tony was nice enough to help me too, he ran sound for me. Uggh, I didn't even give him a fucking spot and he ran sound for me- that's how great a guy he is and how SELFISH I can be.

Post "The Revolution!" show outside the Lexington with Tony.

I think the best thing in comedy after doing standup is booking your own show. Reaching for the stars, pulling in friends, what a great position to be in! Compiling a fantasy list of mostly male comics and shooting them a message on Facebook.

A combination of comic friends, comics I met at open mics, (but hadn't talked to) or comics I saw on a show.

So if you're a new comic wondering, how the hell do I get booked on a show?

Well, a moron like me could accidentally see you at an open mic and then end up liking you! And I'm the guy who did a shitty set before you, remember? You never know who could be running shows.

Most people got back to me pretty quick. Comedians love a full calendar. 

I adored The Walsh Brothers. So original and twisted. They blew my mind at TigerLily and I finally met the guys through a mutual friend.

Brian Scolaro was someone I had talked to outside of The Comedy Store. He's one of the first comics to give me any kind of advice,

"Don't move To Long Beach."

Oh shit. Brian Scolaro just caught my girlfriend taking a photograph.

I was a fanboy of Dean Delray. I heard Matty Goldberg on Danny Lobell's podcast and dug his book about his friendship with Angelo Bowers. Ron Babcock was one of the friendly guys on the scene, loved his standup. I'd worked on a webseries with Paul Danke. Just met a lot of the other comics at open mics. I worked with Jeanne Whitney at Arclight Hollywood and we started standup around the same time. I watched Timika Hall do her first set at Echoes Under Sunset and she was great! Ester Steinberg cracked me up at The Palace and then I wanted to book her after I saw this sketch. She just happened to be hanging out with Neel Nanda when I was booking him, so I got both of them right then and there.

Robert Vertrees was brand new like me, but I just dug his story.

I knew I'd never have to worry about Ken Garr.

Just read his awesome blog entry "One Year Later and Why I Should Quit"

I should've taken note and made my blog shorter! That dude is a complete professional and will never hesitate to give you his tour dates at the MGM in Las Vegas.

Jak Knight was edgy and exciting. Jon Durnell was the best thing about a bringer show I did at the Formosa. I didn't even know Lisa Landry, but Brian asked if she could be on. Same thing with Kevin James Moore, a buddy of Matty's.

Maagic Collins is one of the kindest souls I've ever met. I love his standup. He would show up to my afternoon Tribal mic on Saturdays. Very supportive guy.

I think I saw Rick Wood at Power Violence and he just blew me away.

Anyway, you get the fucking point, this was just an excuse to drop everyone's links. Jesus Christ.

One time I made the amateur mistake of messaging too many people at once and then having to tell one comic I'd put them on the next show. I got a lot of grief for that and I was pulling my hair out. I was getting a guilt trip from the disappointed comic and now I didn't want to book him at all. It was totally my fault, but I was just getting through the learning curve. Book carefully, and wait for your damn responses.

Another recurring thing that kept coming up is a comic wanting to bring a friend for a guest spot. It's a good rule of thumb to keep a spot open for a possible drop-in. Or just book less comics Marty. Aren't you glad you paid $200 for this helpful comedy workshop tip?

I was also planning on doing all these wacky sketches and transitions that had nothing to do with the stand-up comedy. I wanted to make it an event. I asked Chris Walsh if we could have an extended dialogue where the Walsh Brothers get in an argument with me and then pretend to shoot me from the audience...so now I'm suddenly on the level of The Walsh Brothers! Proposing bits. Chris was really nice about it and declined in the best way possible. He made me realize that I should only work on the hosting- not all this extra dressing. I'd be stressed out enough. Plus, The Walsh Brothers have their own thing going on and it's hilarious.

Claire helped me with some basic PR stuff; shooting out emails to various websites with LA calendars of events. Lot of people check online for free entertainment. I hit up LA Weekly early enough to get this delightful blip:

Did I pay anyone? I paid Dean Delray. I paid Brian Scolaro. It seems a little unfair now, I had The Walsh Brothers, Ron Babcock, Paul Danke, and Matty Goldberg, who all have a shitload of experience.

I got this dumb idea that I should write thank you notes to everyone else. Looking back, I gave comedians false hope of money in those envelopes, only to find a badly scrawled "thank you" with some shitty stick figure doodles. At least there were cookies at the gig.

Brian mentioned the 50 bucks onstage and I was really embarrassed. It exposed the inner-workings of my inexperience and that I was holding out on everyone else. I think I would do it differently now, but it was a free show.

2nd show was a lousy turn out, but I had a handful of people because they saw an ad in the "LAist" They specifically said, "We saw it in the LAist." It blew my mind. So you never know! Send those emails out.

Tony watched me have a mini-meltdown. I was stressing out because there was a band that was booked on a show immediately after and it was clear that I was going to run over their time. I thought if I gave up my own set and kept bringing the next comic up, we'd finish on time without cutting anyone's sets down.

Tony explained to me that I shouldn't of worried about that, that it was worse to bring the comics up cold. It's better to keep the audience warmed up, but I was hopping back on stage saying,

"Give it up for Ron Babcock, and now let's keep it moving- Matty Goldberg!"

I didn't get it. I thought running over my time would fuck things up and I'd never get to do a show again. I shouldn't of booked so many comics anyway- Paul Danke was going on dead last, and he'd been waiting around so long, I felt horrible. I should buy his album.

So don't sacrifice your time for the sake of the next show- be a good host, Wurst.

But that first show had a great turnout, especially for The Lexington. The comics were kind of impressed. That extra leg work paid off.

I remember I wanted to bring Dean Delray up to a Led Zeppelin song and I kept bothering Tony about it when the order changed. Then when the music came up, Dean was clearly stoked and that little moment meant a lot to me.

On his way out he yelled,

"Congratulations on your 1st year of stand up!"

Speaking of which, I asked Melina Paez if I could be in her "DropTheSoapTV" series, where comics do stand-up in her shower. It was a fun way to cap off my first year.

Okay, that was rather manic. Just a couple steps away from Denis Leary- uggh. Anyway, I STOPPED doing that. Here's a message to myself as I time-travel back to the shower,

Horrible jokes, asshole! Your taint is hilarious by the way.

I just want to thank the people that encouraged me or gave me useful information when I started bumbling my way through open mics that first year (July 2013-2014)

Brett Gilbert, Ric Rosario, Matty Goldberg, Tony Bartolone, Jason Van Glass, Ron Babcock, Dean Delray, Chris Walsh, Matt Walsh, Danny Lobell, Mollie Gross, Melina Paez, Brian Scolaro, Jamie Flam, Jeremiah Watkins, Mike Celestino, Justin Alexio, Neel Nanda, Mikey de Lara, Paul Danke, Ari Mannis, Lydia Robinson, Ryan Doolittle, Maagic Collins, Don Barris, Elissa Rosenthal, Rob Antus, K-von, Jarrett and Emily Galante, Christiane Georgi, Hiro Matsunaga, Greg James, Carly Craig, Matthew Hilton, Sally Mullins, Matt Sauter, Matt Gamarra, Donald McKinney, Ryan Kain, Jeremy Fultz, Del Weston, Derick Armijo, Alisha Morine, Nicole Malina, Devon Schwartz, Andy Salamone, Barbara Gray, Sean Conroy, Myles Weber, Ricky Winston, Frankie Ma, Rishi Arya, Brandon Birckz, Sean K., Mike Menendez, Jamar Neighbors, Mr. Goodnight, Erica Rhodes, Matt Champagne, David Gerhardt, The Martin Duprass, John Silver, Ryan Pfeiffer, Kevin Anderson, Whitney Melton, Kym Kral, Jared Levin, Kenneth Lion, Alex Croll, Adam Carr, Trevor James, Deon Williams, Amber Brashear, Pat Regan, Brad Silnutzer, Rob Weissman, Marty, Graham Curan, Eddie Pepitone, Quincy Johnson, Blythe Metz, Willie Dynamite, Freddy Morales, Marcela Perdomo, Nick Kaufman, Atelston Fitgerald Holder The 1st, Bruce Boiman, Tom Allen, Melissa Villasenor, Maria Bamford, Todd Glass, Lou Perez, Allison Anders, Jeremy Bassett, Tony Alfieri, Laura Niles, Tamoy Sherman, Chaliss Robinson, Eddie Whitehead Jr, Brent Weinbach, Jill Maragos, Jodi Miller, Luz Pazos, Brianna Murphy, Sasha Kapustina, Alain Villenueve, Brad James, Lauren Kiang, Yoav, Ken Garr, David Gregorian, Jordan Leer, Stefano Della Pietra, Down Under Comedy Club, Mike Garrison, Brad and Sara Harris, Thomas Hussey, Harold, Chino, Tiffany Gomes, Simon Gibson, Joe Wagner, Scott Luhrs, Jay Weingarten, Joe Kardon, Pedro Salinas, Willie Dynamite, Robert Vertrees, Amber Kenny, Karah Britton, Alison Tafel, David Hill, Andy Kosec, Micah Lile, Chris Putro, Kris Rubio, Jade Thom, Brodie Reed, Ryan Talmo, Kevin Lee, Kellie Ann, Jeanne Whitney, Jake Kroeger, Nikki Riordan, Tim Mars, Christian Chavez, Jake Adams, Louise Hung, Michael Donato, my Geffen peeps, all my Arclight friends, Stella friends, childhood friends and family that came out to support.

Or if you're just generally nice to me thanks. You gave me the strength to go out and bomb one more time.

Shout out to Mike Celestino's great documentary "That's Not Funny".

and finally To Claire:

For every time I called you up to moan out my discontent, only to be dissuaded from my stubborn misery because of your constant light, love, and gentle reasoning.

For those open mics you'll never be able to unsee.

I love you more than open mic comedians love pussy jokes.

And as you know, that's a hell of a lot.

Jamie Flam, artistic director at The Hollywood Improv, closing out 2015 with Claire at the VanJam. He proudly wore the ridiculous squid hat that she brought from the aquarium.

If you'd like to continue on to Year 2 click here

OR Send me back to Open Mic Hell click here

My you are a glutton for punishment. You must be a comedian!

My First and Worst Year: Open Mic Hell

It can be pretty lonely going to an open mic when you’re starting out, especially if none of your friends are comedians. I missed the boat when a wave of my friends had just quit a year prior. I think they were just depressed by the overall experience or had moved on to better things. Eventually, I ran into a couple of people that I knew, but we didn’t hit all the same mics.

You venture out to these open mics, sign up on a list or throw your name in a bucket for a lottery draw. Echoes Under Sunset was typically swamped with 40-50 comedians. If I was way down the list, it could be hours before I got up. Then by the time it was my turn I might have an audience of 2 because everyone either bounced to other mics, or were just hanging out in the other room, charging their phones and socializing. I’d marvel at comedians that dropped in and were immediately put up. What the fuck? Why do these motherfuckers just get to go up and bounce immediately after? I've been waiting for 2 hours!

It made my blood boil.

Typical sign up scenario. Maybe 5 of those comics are actually there when it starts, the rest are gradually drifting in from other mics. Note Atelston's custom-made stamp.

Sometimes I'd go to an open mic early and the host would show up with the list. Then I'd go to sign up and there would be 10 people on the list already! What the FUCK?

All part of the game. This would happen for a number of reasons. People are texting the host for an early sign up- friends hook friends up, especially when everyone's trying to hit 3-4 mics a night. Or maybe it's a comic with a higher status- someone who's been in the game longer, so they get the respect and are granted "pop-ins". A few of those comedians would drop in and then shit on the venue in their set. Like it was beneath them to do that open mic.

Occasionally I'd luck out, get up early, and see a lot of comics in the audience...looking down at their phones, not supporting at all. Maybe just frozen in a grimace. I realized that all of this was just part of the grind. I think it's personal, but it's not. I'm just not funny.

Some mics feel like cliques, where the support isn't there unless I'm already in their circle. More than likely, I just suck!

The lounge area of Echoes Under Sunset. You could watch the comic's act on a couch without actually being inside supporting! It was always kind of funny to hear laughs in the other room- you never knew who was listening.

Comedians in the open mic scene have witnessed the same cliches pass through a million times. The young cocky guys that want to be shocking. The misogyny. White guys that think they can drop the N-word because their favorite comedian did it. Comedians that can't take the silence so they start screaming at the audience. And not at other comics, they're screaming at customers- just innocent people that happen to be there.

I saw a comic walk up to someone who was studying and scream in his ear. Just some student who didn't care that an open mic was going on because it was a fucking coffee shop. Lot of these open mics are in random places and customers might feel like they're being held hostage. I saw a young comic scream at an elderly man to suck his dick. Others have called audience members cunts. Long sets devoid of jokes.

Familiar topics range from:

1. Fat women should be grateful that I want to fuck them!

2. Midgets are ridiculous.

3. Homeless people are gross.

4. I'm fine with gay people, (my cousin is gay) as long as they don't try to fuck me in the ass.

5. Rape, molestation, 9/11, Hitler, and incest.

6. Passive aggressive rant about (insert race here)

7. Bitches be crazy.

8. A woman having her period (a disgusted man's perspective)

9. Asians are bad drivers. (occasionally told by a comic of Asian descent)

10. Dude, that's so gay.

11. Hitting women.

12. Aids. (very popular)

One of my favorite segues was at Rockpaper Coffee- a mic where the darkest of souls would gather to charge their phones. This dude named Glenn just said horrible stuff about women for a few minutes and then he transitions with,

"I just want a girlfriend."

I remember there was an avant-garde asshole at The Palace. We'd perform upstairs in this Chinese restaurant (it's still going) and this one dude starts yelling down at a family that's just trying to celebrate their kid's birthday party. The comic is doing this violent hacking cough, flailing his arms, jumping into the wall behind him, and leaning over the balcony to yell at the party. He picks up a potted plant and all this soil spills out over the floor. It might sound hilarious as I'm describing it, but nobody was laughing. The host was livid. Of course he leaves without helping to clean up. One of those real artistic performers.

I change my mind, that guy was fucking brilliant. I think his name was Crispin Glover.

That's the thing, I end up meeting people that respect those kind of performers immensely and I have to question my judgement all over again.

Oh, I see, he's emulating unfunny incarnate, I just didn't get it!

I've seen so many long, ranting monologues. There's never a shortage. I'm so depressed. I want to kill myself. Comics shitting on everything they're not. Shitting on religion just because. Comedians rolling around on the stage, screaming, doing their version of an uncomfortable Andy Kaufman set. I subjected my girlfriend to a few of these mics.

Back and forth notes with my unfortunate girlfriend, while sitting through an open mic at The Lexington.

I've become a little desensitized to the appalling behavior and just come to accept it. Most of these morons will be gone in a year or two, or they'll change their strategy from attacking the audience to writing actual jokes.

I'm friends with comics that have done these things. That's on me. I have conflicting emotions because you meet really nice people that have done awful things on stage. You should be able to express yourself at an open mic right? Maybe they just needed to get that shit out. I've definitely embarrassed myself countless times, but I firmly believe that I sink by myself. I hate comics that attack the audience because they can't handle their bombing.

With that said, I'm sure I'm due for a meltdown in the future.

Besides, that last bit killed at Flappers, so fuuuuuuuuuuck you pregnant lady, your unborn child's a cunt!

...sorry about that.

This might cheer you up, here's a picture of Jared Levin playing to a totally empty room!

Jared alone at the doomed Vaucluse Lounge on Sunset Blvd.

So I would spend hours trying to get up at various places. Sometimes there's a drink minimum. Maybe a $5 entry fee. Some mics are absolutely free. Average 3 minute sets. Some were 4-5. At Marty's you could do 20 or more. That's not necessarily a good thing.

To add to the insanity I'd see these crazy people getting on stage.

They're clearly not serious about doing comedy, and now they're robbing me of stage time! Motherfucker.

I took it really personally. Anyone who didn't seem to care about stand-up just got under my skin. I was taking the metro blue line to the red line from Long Beach up to Hollywood, which would take anywhere from 90 minutes to 2 hours. Then I would wait around for an hour or two to MAYBE go up (lottery draw, mixed with drop-ins and employees) and then some careless fuckhead employee at the Improv automatically gets to go up? They didn't even write any shit! They even said it three time during their set,

"I didn't write anything."

GREAT! Now there's this ancient vaudeville fuck doing his act from the 1940's. He's getting out the shoe polish....DEAR GOD.

I actually heard a Tammy Faye Baker and Monica Lewinsky joke- I couldn't believe it.

It's just one of those things, there's certain people you only see at certain open mics over and over- like The Laugh Factory, The Comedy Store, or The Ice House. Same weirdos popping up. A woman singing some horrible song and rambling incoherently about her life story. The dude with the huge sombrero that kept clearing his throat and fucking with his phone during everyone else's set. There was also a conspiracy theory guy that would bring charts on stage.

Most of the hosts just embrace these people. Just give them their time and move on. Maybe these mics are keeping them from doing something worse. Or maybe it's keeping them alive. Pretty dramatic, but who the fuck knows.

One guy showed up to The Ice House to battle his fear of public speaking. He would break down and cry almost every set.

Some open mics encourage feedback from other comics after your set. It's a great idea that a lot of people take advantage of. I was never crazy about it because I'm stubborn and I hate most comic's material, so why would I want their input? I do like technical notes about what I'm doing on stage, but I'm a stickler for what's written. No one can improve my 9/11 dick joke, it's the best one clearly.

Then I found myself giving unwarranted advice to comics that didn't ask for it. Jesus Marty, you're barely a year in. What the fuck do you possibly have to offer?

There is a light at the end of the tunnel. I gradually made friends. It took awhile. I struggle to be myself in front of other comics to this day because I care too fucking much. I come off like a phony and I know it, but I'm trying to let it all go. No one is thinking about me! They're probably thinking, well that guy sucked, or not this piece of shit again, but that's probably it. They're worried about their set.

The Comedy Store patio mic was instrumental in finding my voice a bit. Very thankful to Josh Martin for hosting it. It was the 50-yard line for an open mic week. Wednesdays AND Thursdays at 4pm, which is really early for a week day mic. It left me plenty of time to hit some more mics at 6 or 7pm. When I was taking the bus everywhere, it meant a lot to get those two guaranteed mics in every week. I started to loosen up because of this place. I felt a camaraderie here. I really bonded with some good people.

Josh Martin hosting.

There were so many distractions- the street noise alone. Every few minutes, a bus would pull over to take pictures. TMZ and Rasta buses. Double decker buses. Just a bunch of tourists on vacation getting bombarded with worthless information about The Comedy Store and now they were staring at us. So we would try to make something of that moment. Or I might just say something lame, lose my place and never recover. Some comics screamed at them. We'd hear the occasional request of,

"Tell us a joke!"

One time I took the challenge and told a quick joke to a bunch of tourists on a bus and got the laugh. That felt like the accomplishment of the year for me- Sean K. was just clowning on how I was gonna choke and then under the gun I got the laugh.

One time a bunch of dudes in a party bus asked a comedian to hop in for a ride.

He did. We never saw him again.

Mike Schmidt performing.

PJ Stansbury would wander into the mic, drinking PBR and promptly shit on everybody during his set. He's what most moms would call a "potty-mouthed troll." I had no idea he was a paid regular. This guy was spewing so much toxic bile I was stunned to know his name was on the fucking wall. First impressions man. They never last. Now he's just a potty-mouthed troll that I happen to like.

Pauly Shore would occasionally pull into the driveway to do business at the Store and give us a wave.

Sometimes pedestrians would participate in the madness. They could hear us from the street, so they'd yell shit out as they walked by. Heckling would take place too, or on a couple of occasions a shouting match. It was always fun to see people stop in their tracks and then actually come in for a few minutes to watch. The bar was open after all.

That particular mic was a great training ground and there was just something about that energy outside on Sunset Blvd.

Chris Dunham.

There were the audition mics like Flappers, that could lead to an audition, which would lead to those bringer-type shows.

Or you could stand outside the Laugh Factory for a few hours and sign up to perform the following week! Also an audition type scenario that could lead to longer sets and showcase consideration... don't hold your breath.

Brandon Brickz and I waiting outside the Laugh Factory.

Always a sober moment when some beautiful person in a fancy car rolls down their window to question the line of 15 comics, standing outside the Laugh Factory.

"Who are you waiting for, what comedian?"

"No, we're waiting to sign up- WE'RE the comedians."

"Oh." (sympathetic wave, drives off)

Some of the comedians are in lawn chairs. One guy is eating a sandwich from the deli next door. An old man is talking our ear off about his "comedy career" back in the day. They cut the line at 15, but the 16th person is waiting anyway- just in case. They're going to be disappointed. No exceptions.

I'd sit around, try to write a joke for a minute and then give up. Someone would start a conversation with me. Or hand me their dog for this picture.

I lied, I asked to hold the dog. This is Cloud. He is a poodle/chihuahua mix.

That's the only good thing I really have to say about standing outside the Laugh Factory. I meet good people. I won't meet the owner, Jamie Masada. At least, not any time soon. He's in the Bahamas or something. Which is a good thing, I'm still terrible. He was there once out of the 7 times I've done it. so I eventually grew bored and got involved with other things.

I'll end this entry with another painful artifact. I can't bring myself to watch this again, but I'll post it.

I was interested in the Flappers podcast, the "FlappCast" because the owners/hosts had on a lot of comedians that I knew. Anyone could do a short set. Plus they booked some pretty good guests to sit in and give feedback. Very much like the KillTony podcast except nothing funny happens. 

I take that back, GT's appearance, which I must hunt down. They were so shocked by his performance. Nothing like an eccentric, hated, ticking time-bomb comic to blow the lid off an unsuspecting room.

So I found out how to sign up and made a fool of myself. I remember being so disappointed that they didn't get me. That I was doing these outlandish bits; an over-the-top impression that couldn't be serious. An over-the-top story that couldn't be true. When I talked to them I felt like they hadn't even listened to me.

Not that any of my material was good, my shirt alone sealed my doom.

to continue to Producing A Show click here

OR BACK to the BRINGER SHOWS (gag reflex) click here

My First and Worst Year Doing Stand-Up Comedy: Westwood BREWCO and Onward

3 years in. This is a rundown of some of my favorite things and most cringe-worthy moments that happened in my stand-up journey so far. It's a list to remind myself because I don't want to forget. Even the stuff I wish I could, like when the host cut the mic on me 3 minutes into a ten minute set because I said "cock." 

I'm not a great writer, so I apologize if this style is hard on the eyes. I'll try to get my girlfriend Claire to proof-read it later. Maybe you can recommend a background color that's easier on the eyes. I'll try to include a lot of pictures and clickable links whenever I reference a particular open mic or venue, so you can see what these places look like.

In 2013 I told myself I'd give stand-up comedy a year and then decide if I wanted to continue. It wasn't so much a bucket-list, but a personal goal because I'd been doing comedy in different forms for a number of years. Plus I felt like my soul had bottomed out after a nasty break up and I think I was just trying to go balls out on something new and exciting.

I was listening to comedy podcasts, I started dating Claire and I saw a great show with her at the Improv with Jen Kirkman and Eddie Pepitone. I think the excitement of the possibility was building in my head. I tried to convince my friend Matt to start with me, but he went his own way. It was one of those weak pacts like,

"Hey man, you want to fast for 7 days?"

And then by the end of day one,

"Hey man, you want to hit Del Taco and split a chocolate cake?"

1. I went to Westwood BrewCo's final open mic, which was a long-running, highly regarded place run by Vance Sanders and Robert Yasumura, who were worshipped. Many great comedians had honed their craft there- it was a place that was serious about comedy. That night was more of a somber farewell with guest drop-ins. I was a total outsider and didn't know any comedians yet, but I worked just around the corner at the Geffen Playhouse. I got the idea that I was going to cause a stir- make an undeniable first impression. I was going to do something CRAZY.

If I got called up, the plan was to perform Robert Yasumura's material AS Robert Yasumura, as a sly nod, but mostly because it was a cocky thing to do and I could sort of mock him at the same time. We're talking a highly respected comedian, not to mention one of the FOUNDERS of BREWCO. Real dickhead plan, Marty, Good on you. Totally shitting on the event because I thought I had to go in STRONG!

I studied his routine for 30 minutes and convinced myself that I was ready. I honestly thought that everyone would love it. Oh man, he's doing Robert's material- that's so funny!

The merciful comedy gods were on my side that night. Robert didn't pull my name out of the bucket. He got to one newbie, but it wasn't me. Thank God. it would've undoubtedly been my first lesson in humility and would've backfired a million times over. I would've burned so many bridges, slurring through the routine with several beers in me, probably forgetting the jokes, while the other comics would just marvel at the idiot that was committing suicide at their mic.

What a total douchebag.

It didn't happen though. I'm so GRATEFUL I didn't get to make that first impression.

2. July 14, 2013. 

I read about Marty's on Badslava. There were hilarious reviews and it seemed like the perfect dumpy place to get my first performance out of the way. It didn't sound like anyone would be paying attention, which was good. Like going to a whorehouse to lose my virginity. Quick, sad, and over. So I went there, paid my 5 bucks, and Marty brought me up.

"Hey, going to try and work out my jitters," I said.

I performed maybe 2-3 minutes out of a possible 10-15. My set-list was as follows:

My Last Name, Bob Marley, Cat-Clicking, Man of Steel, "You're Cuter!" and Normalize Breast Feeding.

A comic named Austin said,

"That was your first time? That was good man." I remember I loved one of his punchlines,

"It was the elephantitus in the room, but nobody said anything."

Chuck Bronson was there, along with some performance artist called DYSFUNCTIONAL.

I had survived my first mic. The next week, I went to Marty's again, then Sal's Comedy Hole, then Meltdown Comics. The Jon Lovitz Comedy Club was mysteriously closed one night and I never had a chance to go back.

3. After weeks of bombing I got my first "big laugh" at The Palace.

"Had a great open mic last night- my first break thru where I heard the whole audience laugh.  Now I want to chase after that moment again and again.  Been going to some really interesting venues- last night was the 2nd floor of a Chinese Restaurant." (from an e-mail to a friend.)

That was a game changer. I accidentally connected or something, but getting a small group of comedians to laugh was very special. I should've thrown the mic down and said,

"Holy shit, I'm done," and walked away from comedy forever. I'd never get a group of comedians to laugh again.

4. I was huffing it back to the train from the Dangerfield's 3 mic and I saw Paul Scheer and his transparent party tour bus slow down next to me. It was for the "Crash Test" pilot he was filming with Rob Huebel. I had my earphones in and couldn't make out what he was saying, but he was waving to me, so I just saluted back. I had my Long Shot Podcast t-shirt on and I felt like I was having my first comedy nerd moment. I've had Hollywood moments- I've been out here since '99, but that was the first thought of, Hey, I'm one of you guys! I'm doing comedy too! Can I get a ride? No? WELL FUCK YOU, HUMAN GIANT SUCKS!

5. I was consistently hosting at Echoes Under Sunset because no one else would. What a great opportunity! Christian was so cool to me and never hesitated to give up the reigns to young and eager comics. I was suddenly on stage, bringing people up, fucking up their names, apologizing profusely, bombing spectacularly, and often! Great way to start remembering names and faces though. I was writing helpful pronunciations on the side of their actual names,

"Jeff WATT-AND-HAW-FUR."

I was so confused when comics were angry about me fucking up their name, yet they refused to tell me the actual pronunciation!

"No, let me have this to hate about you Wurst. Go fuck yourself new guy!"

Despite my bumbling on stage, I managed to make a few friends. One night I was doing a heckler character and I swear there was only two people watching, but one of them was Tony Bartolone. He came up to me after and said he liked my bit. He was really enthusiastic about it. He asked me if I could do a little improvised bit on a show he was doing. My first real booking!

6. I kept a comedy journal of my first year. I wrote down names of comics that I liked with a star. Ron Babcock- "Funny!" Matt Champagne. Ester Steinberg.

"Jake Cannon told us all to leave." (from a Sal's set)

Dave Ross. I also marked the comics that were doing stuff outside of the box. Some of them I hated. Some of them I liked. Some I hated, started talking to them, and then realized I'd made a bad call. I made a lot of bad calls. First impressions were usually way off, with the exception of GT. I met comics and then listened to them being interviewed on podcasts. More confirmation that I had been wrong. So many interesting people.

7. Chris Putro saw me at The Other Door and put me on his Crispy Comedy Show. 8 minutes seemed like an hour, so I prepared a lot that night.

8. One night when I was bumbling through my hosting duties at Echoes, I brought up Maria Bamford. I barely got her name out.

Some of my favorite ladies in comedy showed up at the Echoes Under Sunset open mic that night. Maria Bamford, Melissa Villasenor and Amber Kenny!

9. I did Tony's show at The Lexington and played a wrestler obsessed with John Cena.  Eddie Pepitone was the headliner that night and he saw me perform. At one point I called the audience a bunch of assholes and I heard Eddie's cackle for a moment. Man that felt good.

10. I hosted at Tribal Cafe for 3 hours every Saturday afternoon for 6 months. I had plenty of time to practice by myself, because ...not a lot of foot traffic.. I was lucky to have more than 3 in the audience. Jeanne Whitney occasionally hosted with me. Anyway, it could be pretty bleak, but I met some cool people like Maagic Collins and Tamoy Sherman. Then there was the guy in the cowboy hat.

It was already a crazy day because earlier, a fight almost broke out. Some guy was performing and it was one of those aggressive uncomfortable sets and Tamoy made the mistake of telling the guy to tell some jokes. That escalated into a shouting match and it was clearly going to get ugly, so I cut the mic and told the guy to leave.

"FREEDOM OF SPEECH!" was his parting argument.

Yeah, we all thank our lucky stars for having freedom of speech whenever an asshole rants on the mic.

Anyway, so that left things tense. So then the dude with the cowboy hat enters.

He's an older man, not particularly funny, and I'm guessing he's just one of the many eccentric characters that hang out in Echo Park.

He made jokes about going postal and with a grin he opens up his shirt to reveal he's strapped with dynamite.

Claire was there, she can vouch for this.

Of course it wasn't real, it couldn't be, but the day had taken a turn and it would've been entirely appropriate for some dude to walk in and kill us all- that was the punchline! I told one comedian he had to leave and another popped in to blow us up! Hilarious.

Claire said it had to be candles. So now everything is weird in the room, he's still doing his set and next he unsheathes a samurai sword. I'd failed to notice he had a sword on him, I know this is surreal.

He's waving it around and there was no mistaking it, a real sword. It's a David Lynch moment, the dude is still grinning like he's my friend, he even asks me,

"Did I get the light?"

"I'm not going to light you, you got the sword," I said.

He finished his set and left. The bored, unaffected Tribal employee failed to notice this was even happening. The service always sucked there anyway. I called it a day and quit early.

In the following weeks I went to Fanatic Salon, IO West, House of Tacos and Rockpaper Coffee. Jamar Neighbors was hosting at the Hollywood Improv on the main stage. What a fun mic.

I took the bus to Burbank and had my first audition at Flappers- nailed those 3 minutes. I practiced it until 3am the night before. I'm sure that was completely unnecessary. That lead to my exhilarating, but mostly painful experience with bringer shows, so I'll stop here. I can't wait to re-live the next chapter.

To be continued in the next day or so...

To go to the next entry about Bringer Shows, click here