I Get No Respect, I Tell Ya

I want to thank Emily for coming along with me, I hope it wasn't too awkward, because it kind of was for me.

I saw an interview with Dave Chapelle where he retold his experiences as an emerging stand up comedian. He said that before he even stepped foot on stage, he would go watch open mics with comedians both good and bad, taking notes on what worked and what didn't. This way when he went on stage himself, for the first time, he would have some idea of what not to do.

I figured that this was a great idea, and even if I didn't have any immediate plans to be a stand up comedians (I certainly don't any more), it would be a great resource for my writing. After all, an open mic night is just a bunch of guys standing up, telling jokes and seeing if people think they are funny. Jokes 101, right?

Maybe, but a crowd can be brutal. And by crowd, I mean fifteen people, myself included, sitting in the corner of a small bar. I was hoping to slip into some club, somewhere in the back, and take notes while sipping my beer. Instead, after Emily left, I was the only person there who was not a performer, noticing that everyone was talking to each other, and looking at me like I was some spy from NARC-land, sent to make the room un-funny. It reminded me of one of those vampire movies where the dude is dancing at the club, and just having a great time, and then realizes that the chick he is with has fangs, and then looks around to realize everyone's a vampire.

Interrupting the brotherhood of not-so-funny-men, I was the clear target of jokes for the 'headliner' at the end. It seems that he was just going to 'say things and hope they were funny'. Well, they weren't, jokes are planned, and take a long time to make funny. And maybe because I wasn't laughing, I was singled out. I was suddenly the 'guy' in the audience who gets pointed out. Shit. Where's my garlic and silver cross? I took a quick peek behind me, hoping that there was some pointdexter behind me. Blast. I was that pointdexter. Just play it cool, he'll get bored and move on. If not, I'm going to have to fashion a wooden steak out of this bar stool.
I wish there was a Gidgeons Bible within reach.

The night ended awkwardly and uneventfully, with the emcee 'freestyling' what were clearly inside jokes, because only one girl in the back was laughing. All in all, I would not reccomend that experience to anyone, unless they are prepared to preform themselves. And I promise, if I ever do, I'll post it on here, so you can laugh at me. Notice I said 'at'.

There's nothing funny about stand up comedy.