I just had two of the best/most fun comedy nights of my career thus far (Gilda’s Club Fundraiser, and hosting my Comedy Girl class recital,)  but tonight, I ate shit at Yuk Yuk’s and that’s ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT!

Why is Larry at Yuk Yuk’s ONLY on the nights when I do terribly?  I did well last week = no Larry.   Why can’t I just prove to that guy I’m capable of doing a good set?!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH fiddlesticks.  I’m going to bed.  Nights like this, I wish I’d have been knocked up in high school.

Huge thanks to everyone who came out to support Nola & my little comedy show to raise money in support of Gilda’s Club Greater Toronto!

Here are my pre-bed thoughts about tonight’s show:

1)  What an amazing night!  I hope you all liked it!

2) If you weren’t there, you should have been.

3)  I have so many mugs left over.  Do any of the performers who left early want a free Humber mug?

4)  What an amazing crowd.  What an amazing life.

5)  I hope nobody breaks into my apartment and steals the money we raised for Gilda’s Club tonight!  Quick Peanut, guard it with your life!

It's in that red thing under her butt.

I have so much more to say about the show tonight, but first: sleep!

As you may have gathered from the last late-night post reflecting my predictions of the inevitable discovery of my colleague’s talent by Hollywood or what have you, and the subsequent benefits of that association/friendship I shall reap, her play went rather well.  As did all performances Wednesday and Thursday nights.  Thus, our second year “Ten Minute Play Festival” and most of ours’ first attempt at play-writing comes to successful completion.

There were some neat ones, some serious ones, some non-verbal ones and it was always fun throughout to ask “which one of my colleagues wrote this one?” and to be pleasantly surprised at the answer.

Anyone who knows of my history as a tour guide at Vimy Ridge would not be surprised to discover I was the playwright of “the one about the WW1 brothel.”  It turned out well!  It was serious against a backdrop of ridiculousness; drunken and horny soldiers, Brandon in drag as the “Madame” of the establishment, Ron successfully pulling off a full “under the slip” boob grope to an unsurprised and perfectly-deadpan French whore, Ashley.  And my two leads, Kyle & Paige, keeping the romance and escape plan serious and honest while all this other nonsense is going around them.

It’s so rewarding to see the words you’d written and rewritten and rewritten performed on stage with the help of a seasoned director who can make your vision appear, and extracting emotional responses you hadn’t even considered in the writing process. There’s also some interesting feeling about seeing the actors work hard at memorizing their lines and becoming these characters; putting in the effort so that they too, can make your vision a reality.

I hope I was able to do that for the two roles for which I was cast – one as a middle-aged strict Russian dance teacher, propositioned by two jocks who just really need to pass their ballet exam to make the football team, at whatever cost. 😉 – and Gracie, the teen dog who’s getting too old to play pretend with her dog-brother and her human mother who wants nothing more but to create the most beautiful Dog Wedding in history.

Whether it was that or Romeo learning to appreciate his wing-man, or an English teacher getting his funk back. Getting past  St. Peter into Heaven or curing his son from his own online game persona.  Buttoning down and finally applying for that first job at No Frills, or  watching the Tooth Fairy struggle to get the job done…it sure was nifty to see the talent and creativity of my colleagues’ brainboxes come to life.

Bravo, all!

For as much negative press Facebook, other social media and the Internet in general lately have been getting about “well, we’re basically spying on you”-type problems, as a budding comic, there really is no better tool to help keep your finger on the pulse of what’s going on around town.

For example, the other day, a fellow-comic and the first person who ever paid me to do a set, posted an event on Facebook that caught my eye: Goodmans Presents: Women in Comedy a panel discussion presented by the not-for-profit organization for women in screen-based media; WIFT.

  • Sidenote:  The discussion was held at the head office of the National Film Board, which I thought was pretty dang neat.

Should I have taken photos of the panelists as well as the coolness of the NFB build-your-own-igloo display? Yes.  Did I?  No.  I’m dumb.  Maybe it was the complimentary wine, or the excitement of meeting female writers and filmmakers living out their dreams as artists and encouraging me to do the same, but for some reason, photography was not a priority.

Here’s what I think about some of the topics the panelists covered and how they are relevant on my end of the spectrum (starting out) all the way through to those who’ve made their living from it.  Like her:

Female Role Model

The Drop-Off Rate:

The drop-off rate of women in comedy is huge.  This was attributed to many factors identified in the panel – but mainly, other things getting in the way.  Some of the gals discussed such life events as marriage and having kids.  It seems fairly evident that if you’re a woman who wants to settle down and have a family, the life of a stand-up comedian, performing nightly in dingy bars, and eventually working your way up to touring the country and even the globe, doesn’t seem all that conducive to typical parenthood.

I feel there are probably some lady comics who quit because they feel they do not have a place within the thousands of rape, abortion and baby killing jokes you have to sit-through as an amateur.

The high-testosterone-charged environment also makes it tough as a lady, because you might have to deal with some not-so-well adjusted men behaving in such a way, speaking in such a way as to make things rather uncomfortable.  *CERTAINLY NOT ALL male comedians are like this. Most aren’t!  But the few who do tend to stand out and can make an environment rather uncomfortable for someone who just wants to get up and get some stage-time, not be propositioned, or judged according to looks, breast size, waist size, length of legs, length of skirt…you catch my drift. Hell, sometimes it only takes one creepster!

I guess what I’m trying to say in old fashiony terms is that these environments are sometimes (*insert old British man voice*) “No place for a young lady!”  But listen, we want to be there, so make room and stop fucking around, guys.  We’ve got shit to say too!

...and planes to fly!

The panelists touched on this a little when we discussed the success of Tina Fey and Melissa McMcCarthy.  Both very successful ladies owning the scene right now for their work on TV and film.  I won’t go into much detail about these women or the other famous and successful women the panelists identified as their “comedy idols” because everyone knows about how most of these people got to where they are as most of them have written, or are in the process of writing, bestselling autobiographies on the subject. So you can just read those, ok?

OK.

Another way to look at it, and one of the panelists did, is that there is often an unintentional exclusion among male and female comics because say, some men might not feel comfortable writing for women and vice versa.  Men want to talk about what they know: guy stuff and same with girls.  But there are a lot of girls out there who want to write both for men and women and basically cover the whole human condition.  It becomes difficult to navigate when these boundaries exist, especially when people aren’t aware they’re putting them up.

Sometimes women do it to each other too.  “Well, I cover the woman-quota for this troupe, so no more chicks allowed, k guys?” Girls are awesome at treating each other terribly out of whatever; competitiveness, jealousy, territoriality, you name it!  This is something I’ve studied in sociological setting, but women are often terrible to each other; worse to each other than they are with men, hands down.  It’s awful.  In a perfect world, we’d all work together and everything would be peachy, but as it stands: “Kim’s a total slut, and rumour has it she fucked Sally’s ex, so you probably don’t want to put her on tonight’s bill, do you? I’m manipulative!”

Your Art

There was a strong overall sentiment of “Do it yourself and for yourself” among the panelists, stating that in this business, women must “work twice as hard and complain half as much”

*JUST TO CLARIFY, RE: The amount of complaining in this blog… just ignore it guys, OK?   Can I get a job now?*

Here are a list of several tips to this regard I thought will be helpful for the budding lady comic:

  • Latch onto people who WANT to work;
  • Reach out to the community if you’re struggling.  Lots of the gals have gone through what you’re going through and will be glad to help lift your spirits and encourage you to get back to it (sometimes with the help of a couple delicious pints, while they’re at it.)
  • Comparison is the WORST kind of self-harm
  • Perform AS MUCH as you can (if you want to be a performer… if you want to be a writer, substitute PERFORM with WRITE, if you want to do both, don’t sleep.  Ever.)
  • Collaborate with like-minded people;
  • And don’t give up… because if you give up, the terrorists win.

Thanks to Sarah Hillier, Sharilyn Johnson, Catherine McCormick, Erin Rodgers and moderator Jocelyn Geddie for a truly inspirational evening. And to all the other wonderful and talented women I had the pleasure of meeting that evening.

With the launch of Facebook’s new Timeline and, as time, in the real, non-social-networky world goes on, I’m beginning to realize I have a bit of an obsession with time.  Let’s add the word “time” in here one more time for good measure.  Time.

I'm making it easier and easier for you to find out everything you need to know about your next victim.

I’ve never been the greatest at managing time.  I used to sign up for many extra-curricular activities, (dance, piano lessons, army cadets, sports, improv, taxidermy, etc.)  I was out so often that some of my fondest memories are of my parents and eventually my siblings rushing me from one place to the next.  It was a regular occurrence for the driver to brake especially hard at red lights and stop signs when I was trying to put on my cadet dress uniform over top of my ballet tights in the back of the moving car.

In university, I became a bit better at managing assignments, but not until third year.  I’d had enough of all-nighters because I worked.  I needed to be (somewhat) conscious to up-sell popcorn to miserable suckers.   I began to recognize patterns in the professors’ assignment-schedules, knowing I would be given a certain amount of time to write a certain amount of essays that were all going to be due within the same week so, I’d begin writing them well in advance. By fourth (and fifth) year, I had pretty much managed it.  And if I still couldn’t finish on time, there was always bribery. Sexy, sexy bribery.

I finished school and moved to France and there, time sped up.  It started to feel as though it was going so fast I was spinning. (Note:  it might have been all that wine.)

When I came back state-side, (province-side?) I was obsessed with seeing people; staying in touch with friends I’d made in France and re-connecting with school and work friends – booking and often over-booking myself,   throwing parties at which I would try to combine all of my social circles at once in an attempt to save time and thus, kill several birds with one party-stone.

Who spiked the punch?

It is impossible to combine everything in one.  Comedy in Toronto is helping me to realize this. On any particular night, there are at least a dozen performances I can attend, either as a performer, or (more commonly) a spectator.  I can’t see them all.  I can’t do it all.  And  there are parties.  And there are other meet-ups.  And there are joke-jams.

Then, there are nights in.

Nights. In.

Sometimes they’re the simplest and the most meaningful.

You think it’s over.  You tell the cashier at Shopper’s Drug Mart that this is it.  The last item on your Christmas shopping list.  You go home to celebrate.  You begin wrapping everything up and realize…

Nope.

I still need to get a basket to put all this person’s stuff in, because it’d be weird if they opened them up individually.  Individually, it’s a weird gift, but in a basket, it makes sense.

This person’s basket looks to empty, I should go buy more chocolate to fill it up, or something like that.  Maybe a candle?

This person didn’t get as much stuff as this person.  They’re going to think I like this person more than them.  I’d better go buy them something else so they don’t get that impression.

I hope I don’t see this person until this time, because I won’t have a gift ready for them in time.

Oh shoot, I keep forgetting to send those Christmas cards I’d written at least a week ago.  There’s no way they’ll get them on time for Christmas now.  Should I even bother sending them?

It.  Never. Ends.

Merry Christmas Eve Eve everybody!  I need to go find more baskets.

I’ve been down a bit lately with regards to our sketch troupe falling apart.  I had all these ideas for sketches.  Even when I didn’t have any ideas, I knew that if there was a show coming, I could sit in front of my computer and come up with something funny for the show.

But now, without a sketch troupe with which to perform, I’ve decided to turn my sketch ideas into short stories.  The first one I’m working on is Christmas-themed, which is good because there’s no way I’d be able to stage it on time before Christmas.  Once we start school up again, people will have moved on from the whole Holiday thing. (Ah, How fleeting is our time?…)

I don’t know if the humour I wish to depict on stage via sketch performers will translate as well onto the page.  Maybe it’ll be more difficult when it’s not possible to see the reactions on the actors’ faces.

Hopefully readers’ imaginations are still capable of visualizing such emotional responses in their minds…, if the piece is written well enough!

Ooooh.  New challenges!

Extremely Short Story

The current project we’re working on at school is a 3-walled shoot of a sketch parody we’ve written.   I’m excited to say that my parody was selected as one of the sketches to be filmed.  However, the upcoming rehearsal schedule is a little daunting; especially considering I still have to go in to work, I also have three additional assignments due this week and LaughDraft is performing at the Hard Luck on Tuesday.  This is going to be nuts.

I wonder if anyone else is feeling the pressure of this impending week of parody doom?