One of the things I mentioned in the preface was stand-up comedy. I know that I'm a pretty funny guy, but I also know that for the most part, I don't think like a comedian. I'm funny when I tell stories to my friends because they know the parties involved - sometimes they are the parties involved, but that's another story.
So the seed had been planted long ago to at least give stand-up a shot of some sort. I recall freshman year in college discussing how to get started in stand-up with a guy named Josh Wade, who performed at Marietta College. He basically just said you have to go for it...find open-mic nights and just start trying.
Over time I had slowly gathered a little bit of material. There wasn't really a theme to much of it, which is dangerous. I watched enough stand-up that I realized that the good acts have something tying most of the jokes together, and even if they aren't together, there's at least an absurd segue into the unrelated joke. I had enough stuff written down that I tried to find a theme to it and decided maybe I'd go give a stand-up gig a shot - nothing to lose as a recent college grad, right?
I looked to the internet, trying to find where in Cleveland would have open-mic nights or auditions or things of that nature, and I found the Improv...which is the same chain of comedy clubs that people know about. The Improv. I checked on a Sunday night, and according to the website, they held auditions on Tuesdays at noon. Excited, I decided I was going to put together some kind of routine. They asked for three minutes of original material, and I figured I had that in my back pocket, I just had to figure out what of my ideas were actually funny to other people.
So Monday evening rolled around and I had compiled what I thought would be entertaining enough to at least get me some interest from whoever was going to hear me perform, at which point I double-checked the website. I expected to once again see "Tuesdays at noon." Much to my surprise, the website now read "Wednesdays at noon." So despite my telling several people how exciting it was that I was about to go audition for standup on Tuesday at noon, I was apparently wrong, thus making me look like a jackass.
With an extra day of preparation available, I was more than ready on Wednesday. Upon arrival at the Improv I was very promptly turned away because, as you may expect, "Auditions are Tuesday...always have been...sorry bud."
Fantastic start.
With an extra week of preparation available, I was more than ready on Tuesday. Upon arrival at the Improv I saw two other people waiting outside...success! I got the day right! The other two folks prepared me for what was about to happen: There's one guy who judges you, the other people auditioning will also be in the room, and no one will be laughing. If you get this guy to laugh, you're a god. It's uncomfortable, nerve-racking, and intimidating, but it's the only option. As we waited for this situation to get underway, the other guy (one guy, one girl, and me) asked the doorman whether or not the boss was on his way to judge us. The doorman's response? "I'm pretty sure auditions got switched to Wednesdays..."
From 50 feet away I calmly shouted "I'm gonna take a dump in someone's shoes if I have to come back again tomorrow." But luck was on our side...sort of. The boss, Lee, was actually on his way and decided that if three people were there, he'd give them a shot instead of sending them home.
The doors to the Improv opened up, and the three of us walked in. The woman who let us in immediately asked me what nationality I was, to which I responded "well, mostly just English, maybe some Irish...and a lot of American." She said "Oh, I thought you looked Hispanic."
To that point, the Improv had done nothing but make me question my mental stability, reading skills, and familial heritage...made me wonder if I'm adopted.
Tension mounted, but eventually Lee showed up, briefly explained that he was going to give us three minutes, then give us some commentary when we were all done with our sets. Since it was my first time, I was up first.
I jumped up onstage, felt the bright lights penetrate into my soul, and started talking. Three minutes flew by. I wasn't particularly nervous, which was nice, and I didn't really stutter over my words...they just weren't that funny.
Lee didn't laugh, but the girl gave me a couple chuckles, so I had a bit of confidence and felt pretty good about it. I wrapped up my act and basked in the glow of moderately-enthusiastic applause from the three other people in the room.
I committed a cardinal sin and did not move the mic stand out of my way to start my set...oops. Good start.
But I watched the other two candidates fall flat on their faces, garnering zero courtesy-chuckles from anyone else...they were painful to watch. I probably wouldn't print their names if I remembered them, but I don't, so their identities are safe.
Once all three were done, Lee started doling out the information. He bashed the girl because she had next to no material; she just stood up there and tried to BS with us and it did not work. The other guy appeared to be reading (with great effort) off of imaginary cue cards. Again, it did not work. I was far from a golden god out there, but I was the one who received the most constructive criticism of the bunch; my set-ups were tremendous, but my punch-lines were lacking. It may take months, years, or even decades to get it all worked out, but there's promise to what I was saying. I was comfortable, I had some really promising jokes, but the end of the jokes were a bit of a let-down.
I spent my drive home thinking about everything Lee had said, and I knew he was absolutely right. I knew going in that I was (and am) more comical in a conversational manner than I am when telling stories. I don't quite think like a comedian, but I had to give it a shot. I was more comfortable than I rightfully should have been, which is a good sign for me. If I have no problem being myself in front of people who are making decisions about me, I'm doing something right. Someone is going to love what they see.
I don't necessarily feel like standup is my ticket to stardom, but I want to get my feet in as many doors as I possibly can. Standup comedy is officially something I've tried to do. I'm not really planning on getting back into it anytime soon because I don't really know how to come up with the stronger punchlines that I need, but knowing what I need to do is a big step in the right direction.
So the seed had been planted long ago to at least give stand-up a shot of some sort. I recall freshman year in college discussing how to get started in stand-up with a guy named Josh Wade, who performed at Marietta College. He basically just said you have to go for it...find open-mic nights and just start trying.
Over time I had slowly gathered a little bit of material. There wasn't really a theme to much of it, which is dangerous. I watched enough stand-up that I realized that the good acts have something tying most of the jokes together, and even if they aren't together, there's at least an absurd segue into the unrelated joke. I had enough stuff written down that I tried to find a theme to it and decided maybe I'd go give a stand-up gig a shot - nothing to lose as a recent college grad, right?
I looked to the internet, trying to find where in Cleveland would have open-mic nights or auditions or things of that nature, and I found the Improv...which is the same chain of comedy clubs that people know about. The Improv. I checked on a Sunday night, and according to the website, they held auditions on Tuesdays at noon. Excited, I decided I was going to put together some kind of routine. They asked for three minutes of original material, and I figured I had that in my back pocket, I just had to figure out what of my ideas were actually funny to other people.
So Monday evening rolled around and I had compiled what I thought would be entertaining enough to at least get me some interest from whoever was going to hear me perform, at which point I double-checked the website. I expected to once again see "Tuesdays at noon." Much to my surprise, the website now read "Wednesdays at noon." So despite my telling several people how exciting it was that I was about to go audition for standup on Tuesday at noon, I was apparently wrong, thus making me look like a jackass.
With an extra day of preparation available, I was more than ready on Wednesday. Upon arrival at the Improv I was very promptly turned away because, as you may expect, "Auditions are Tuesday...always have been...sorry bud."
Fantastic start.
With an extra week of preparation available, I was more than ready on Tuesday. Upon arrival at the Improv I saw two other people waiting outside...success! I got the day right! The other two folks prepared me for what was about to happen: There's one guy who judges you, the other people auditioning will also be in the room, and no one will be laughing. If you get this guy to laugh, you're a god. It's uncomfortable, nerve-racking, and intimidating, but it's the only option. As we waited for this situation to get underway, the other guy (one guy, one girl, and me) asked the doorman whether or not the boss was on his way to judge us. The doorman's response? "I'm pretty sure auditions got switched to Wednesdays..."
From 50 feet away I calmly shouted "I'm gonna take a dump in someone's shoes if I have to come back again tomorrow." But luck was on our side...sort of. The boss, Lee, was actually on his way and decided that if three people were there, he'd give them a shot instead of sending them home.
The doors to the Improv opened up, and the three of us walked in. The woman who let us in immediately asked me what nationality I was, to which I responded "well, mostly just English, maybe some Irish...and a lot of American." She said "Oh, I thought you looked Hispanic."
To that point, the Improv had done nothing but make me question my mental stability, reading skills, and familial heritage...made me wonder if I'm adopted.
Tension mounted, but eventually Lee showed up, briefly explained that he was going to give us three minutes, then give us some commentary when we were all done with our sets. Since it was my first time, I was up first.
I jumped up onstage, felt the bright lights penetrate into my soul, and started talking. Three minutes flew by. I wasn't particularly nervous, which was nice, and I didn't really stutter over my words...they just weren't that funny.
Lee didn't laugh, but the girl gave me a couple chuckles, so I had a bit of confidence and felt pretty good about it. I wrapped up my act and basked in the glow of moderately-enthusiastic applause from the three other people in the room.
I committed a cardinal sin and did not move the mic stand out of my way to start my set...oops. Good start.
But I watched the other two candidates fall flat on their faces, garnering zero courtesy-chuckles from anyone else...they were painful to watch. I probably wouldn't print their names if I remembered them, but I don't, so their identities are safe.
Once all three were done, Lee started doling out the information. He bashed the girl because she had next to no material; she just stood up there and tried to BS with us and it did not work. The other guy appeared to be reading (with great effort) off of imaginary cue cards. Again, it did not work. I was far from a golden god out there, but I was the one who received the most constructive criticism of the bunch; my set-ups were tremendous, but my punch-lines were lacking. It may take months, years, or even decades to get it all worked out, but there's promise to what I was saying. I was comfortable, I had some really promising jokes, but the end of the jokes were a bit of a let-down.
I spent my drive home thinking about everything Lee had said, and I knew he was absolutely right. I knew going in that I was (and am) more comical in a conversational manner than I am when telling stories. I don't quite think like a comedian, but I had to give it a shot. I was more comfortable than I rightfully should have been, which is a good sign for me. If I have no problem being myself in front of people who are making decisions about me, I'm doing something right. Someone is going to love what they see.
I don't necessarily feel like standup is my ticket to stardom, but I want to get my feet in as many doors as I possibly can. Standup comedy is officially something I've tried to do. I'm not really planning on getting back into it anytime soon because I don't really know how to come up with the stronger punchlines that I need, but knowing what I need to do is a big step in the right direction.
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