I was reminded today of my two favorite benefits of performing standup comedy — it keeps you on your toes, and provides lots of practice for saying ridiculous things to strangers while keeping a straight face.
(Given that I vanishingly rarely performed for cash, and that I’m still on my self-imposed hiatus, those also happen to be the only benefits I’ve received from performing standup comedy.
Unless you count a scarred psyche and a swollen liver. To me, those are more ‘byproducts’ than ‘benefits’. When you take money out of the equation, it’s all semantics, right?)
“To suggest that my basket was ‘full’ would be like saying Courtney Love is ‘a little high-strung’.”
I remembered the lessons that standup has taught me while in the liquor store today, loading up on alcohol for our barbecue tomorrow. When my grabby booze frenzy had finally ended, I was left pushing a shopping cart with four full cases of beer, an oversized bottle of tequila, and various mixers. I could barely fit it all in the cart, frankly. To suggest that my basket was ‘full’ would be like saying Courtney Love is ‘a little high-strung’. Dig it.
As I muscled my cart toward the register, a demure older lady — in her fifties, maybe — walked past me toward the aisles of red wines. She glanced at my cart and gave me a knowing but wary look. In an instant, she’d clearly sized me up and didn’t much approve, but decided that ‘boys will be boys’ and ‘at least he looks like he’s not from our neighborhood’. As she passed, she suppressed a cluck and said:
‘Hrm. Having a party, I suppose?‘
To which I immediately responded:
‘Nope. Boy Scout Jamboree.‘
And kept right on walking to the register. Standup taught me that — always be ready, and never look back. But she was clearly scandalized. Her footsteps stopped, and I could imagine the gape creeping over her face. Why, the nerve of me! I’m surprised she didn’t huff out to the parking lot, just to tell me, ‘I never!‘
Anyway, it was a bit of pre-party fun. Tomorrow’s the big day; at this very moment, there are beer brats soaking and bits of dead chickens marinating in my refrigerator. I won’t tell you which parts of the chicken, exactly, or precisely what they’re marinating in, but I can assure you — they’ll be delicious.
I’m not sure I’ll have a chance to check in tomorrow, so if I don’t see you, you have yourselves a spiffy weekend, would you? Come to our BBQ, or find another one, or get outside and do something else. Maybe a Scout Jamboree — I hear they make the best margaritas.
At least, that’s how this Jamboree’s going down. Happy July, folks.Permalink | 2 Comments