Sometimes comedy can just get a girl down. The reasons of course vary. From having a shit set, to running into ones arch comedy nemesis, or simply from having lunch with old pals who have either thrown in the towel or are on the verge of it. Blaming everyone and everything for not getting on stage including the sexism and ageism that exists in the game. I’ve been quite the cheerleader to those friends saying “Screw them, just get up somewhere, just keep being funny. Do a bringer show, don’t let it hurt your feelings, it’s just how things are done now. Stop worrying about being disrespected, because anything is STILL possible!” I’m completely guilty of looking at comedy through rose colored glasses.
Yet last night, I found myself moping around the Comedy Store. Walking past the famous and not so famous names that are painted on it’s wall. Most times when I pass by Bill Hicks, I stop and touch it, thankful that it’s within a hand’s reach. I’ll even admit that every once in awhile I look up at mine, which always unleashes a jillion memories from the “wayback” machine in my brain. It’s these memories I have bouncing around me as I have to explain to a baby-faced door guy that I really am a comic and I’m in the Main Room on the “girl” show. I used to be questioned back in the day, at the same spot by a different baby-faced door guy. Because there weren’t a lot of women doing comedy. They would cock their head in disbelief until someone vouched for me and I was let in. I still get the same confused look, now more so because I’m awkwardly aged, unrecognizable, yet weirdly comfortable as I ask patiently to be let in. Most comics at this point who are awkwardly aged, have hit some kind of apex in their careers and breeze by those in charge of the doors. Me, I sometimes still have to get someone to vouch for me. It’s the curse of the worker bee/single mom comic.
Last night after being bumped down to open after my “bringers” didn’t show, I got down. I was still glad to be part of the show, but because I was first, I couldn’t get a great read on the new jokes I wanted to try for a showcase I have in New York in a couple of weeks. I was roaming around from room to room, mulling this over, when I ran into Marcella Arguello. I’ve always wanted to see Marcella. Sometimes you just eyeball other comics out about in the wild, and you just gotta see what they bring. For no other reason than, what the fuck is that about?
It’s this curiosity that keeps me in the game. Sometimes I hear my old comedy buds, who have tired of seeing new comedy, grouse about how young comics only point out weak ironies. That’s it. No punch. No point. In full disclosure, most would attest, that I’m a complete whore to the punch. I really could use more point. As I watched Marcella in the Belly Room, she supplied irony, point and punch. The goddamn mother f*cking trifecta.
I left the Comedy Store, having regained my skip. I decide right then and there to add to my cheerleader’s jargon, “There are people out there that will inspire you.” I also realize again for the hundred millionth time, that sometimes working out at a comedy club isn’t all about your jokes, it can be all about what you need to see.
By happenstance, I photographed Marcella at Felipe Esparza’s wedding a few weeks back.
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