What was going through my head recently while sitting at the back of a show:
Argh, stop running the light already. Especially since you're eating it. Nothing worse than a guy who is just sucking balls and then decides he's gonna do an extra 10 minutes. And since he's lost them already, he decides he might as well get filthy and offensive. Lots of faggot this and cocksucker that.
I'm up next which makes it that much more agonizing. The host is lighting him. Then I start lighting him. It feels as if the universe is lighting him. Finally, he wraps up. He leaves the stage and then people start walking.
OK, hopefully the host will bring me up quick at least. No such luck. He gets up and does five minutes that also doesn't work. (After each comic he's doing five minutes that don't work, but he doesn't seem to care.) By this point, over half the room has walked. Finally he brings me up. And I go up to a few dazed people who look as if they just watched their mother get punched in the face. What I want to say: "Hey, who's ready to laugh? OK, who's ready to not commit suicide?" I tried to power through, but it was a tough go.
It's one thing to keep doing time if you're killing. But when you're sucking the life out of the room, it's just lame and selfish.
Sandpaper Suit is NYC standup comic Matt Ruby's (now defunct) comedy blog. Keep in touch: Sign up for Matt's weekly Rubesletter. Email mattruby@hey.com.
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5 comments:
Ah yes.. I once did a comedy show with an incredibly amazing line-up, but instead of keeping things moving, the host would sing agonizingly long and boring songs between each performer, killing any possible momentum. It was pretty unbearable.
YES! That's me, hating every second in the back of the room, waiting for my turn. It's funny, because irritated and impatient is exactly how you DON'T want to come up to the stage.
This last happened to me at a late-night gig at Broadway Comedy club, where the lady who was on before me--a special guest hand-picked by the novice producers-- was OH-BLIVIOUS to the fact that she was bombing. I would guess it was her first time on stage. She told non-jokes while pacing, and the hosts were using a travel flashlight to signal her. I used my phone which was brighter, but she ignored that too. We were giving her all kinds of cues to leave (coughing, waving, music--the audience noticed). By some grace of God she finally shrugged and said, "That's all I guess." YOU GUESS? That's all the demons wanted me to share tonight. See you on the Subway.
I thought my final extra 10 minutes of Faggots and Cocksuckers was illuminating.
I believe that those 10 minutes could have been done in 5 or 6, if you combined your faggot bits with your cocksucker ones (there's an overlap in those categories, I think, and people are just upset that you were being redundant).
Love,
Fagsucker
PS That's all my time, I guess. Or is it? Have I gotten the light yet? How do I see the light over the internet? My screen is lit, and stays lit as long as I'm typing. The lights aren't on in my home, but there is natural light coming in from outside. Maybe if someone calls me and my phone lights up, and I see it even though it's buried in my jacket pocket...
I got nothing. Cock.
I believe that those 10 minutes could have been done in 5 or 6, if you combined your faggot bits with your cocksucker ones (there's an overlap in those categories, I think, and people are just upset that you were being redundant).
Love,
Fagsucker
PS That's all my time, I guess. Or is it? Have I gotten the light yet? How do I see the light over the internet? My screen is lit, and stays lit as long as I'm typing. The lights aren't on in my home, but there is natural light coming in from outside. Maybe if someone calls me and my phone lights up, and I see it even though it's buried in my jacket pocket...
I got nothing. Cock.
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