Enter Doofus

You know those great commercials where a couple is giving a testimonial to the viewers at home, and a sales associate is standing there calmly? You sit at home and think, "They could replace that person with a giant fern and I wouldn't miss him/her". Well picture me as the fern, doing the following at an audition:

Take one:
The couple announces they tried shopping elsewhere for furniture, and then they came to my store for the better price. There's silence. I'm four feet away, looking at them stand together.

Director: You're supposed to enter the frame to stand next to them and read your line, Abbi.
Me: Oh, right. I thought they would walk back over to me. Even though you explained that I would walk to them. I thought the camera would pan back to where we were all standing at first. But I got it now.

Take two:
The couple says they came to my store for the better price. I walk in and look at the cue card and say, "I told them we have the best deals in town," then I look away from the card at the couple and blank so I add, "...all the right stuff. All the right stuff."

Director: Remember to look at the camera, not the cue card when you say your line. And please say the whole line correctly. And don't repeat a line that's not even on the cue card.
Me: Oh yeah, I will. I wasn't sure if you wanted me to be married to the script or not. Because I started reading it directly, but I wanted to sound natural, so I winged it by reading what I thought it should say. Okay I will just look at the camera the whole time.

Take three:
The couple starts to talk and I walk in and say, "I told them we have the best deals...oh you're not done talking. IDIOT!" I slap my forehead and back out.

Director: Well that's the first time I've heard someone shout, "Idiot!" at one of these things.
Me: Yes, I don't know what's wrong with me, hahaha! Oh no, now I've got the giggles! (To actress) You were talking, and I interruped. I should have waited my turn!
Actress: (glares)
Me: Hahahaha, okay, so this time you guys go first HAHAHA!
Couple: (glares)

The fourth take, I nailed it. If by "nailed it" you understand that I faced the camera but read the line incorrectly again. I also threw in emphatic hand gestures to convey what a great deal this couple was getting. This made me burst out laughing again.

At the elevator, I started to chat up the guy of the couple with, "You'd think it was brain surgery in there!" He gave a pursed-lips smile, got on his phone and turned his back to me.

That Was Rough

I auditioned for Comic Strip Live last night.



I felt like Will Ferrell as Dr. Beaman from an SNL sketch (circa 2000):

Thank God...[ sighing ]

...Whew... [ starts to write on his papers, then stops ]

...Yikes... [ writes some more, stops again ]

...That was rough! [ props his feet on his desk ]

I participated in The Lottery Show hosted by Sherrod Small. Twice a year comics gather to draw a number from a fish bowl. When their number is called they are given an audition date. People affiliated with the club decide whether you get passed to perform on their regular shows, passed to perform on their late night shows, or passed to the garbage. Lately, the auditions have been a little flashier as they take on the form of a contest, featuring a full house, fog machine and panel of comedian judges. I'm told they weren't always this way, so it's probably something special they did for me.

Judges included Modi, Keith Robinson, and Greer Barnes. There were other funny comics and the owners of the club on the panel as well. The set was a fast and fun five minutes, with a nice reaction from the audience. Comedians Helen Hong, Luke Thayer, Gary Gulman , Lisa Harmon and Joseph Rocha were supportive behind the scenes.

Then for intimidation purposes all comics are brought out one-by-one to hear what the judges have to say. It's very entertaining for the crowd, but completely nerve-wracking for the comic. Hats off to Sam Morrill who got over-critiqued last week so they brought him back again this week to do it properly. He had the strongest set of the night.

The good: they said I was funny, I had a lot going on in my set, and I did a good job. Also I'm better than one of my jokes, which I'm counting as a compliment.

The bad: they said I lunge too much during my set. (I can't afford the gym.) They said not to be the voice of an animal in any joke because it's too easy. (Oh yeah? Figure thisssss one out! <--Snake, right? Wrong! Gila monster. BOOM!)

The ugly: I was told that I finished with a weak joke. Sherrod said, "Aw, that's not fair. How long have you been doing it?" Six years. "Yeah, you should have known better then."

My goal of performing at 11:00PM after a long day was to stay awake for the whole process, so mission accomplished. I call it a success.

Photo credit:
snltranscripts.jt.org

Gossip Girl

A few days ago I got an e-mail with a friendly business proposition from a stranger. I handled it in a friendly, business-like manner. Then I proceeded to make fun of that person in an e-mail to my buddy and partner in wise-cracking crime.

Making fun of people is a part of my daily survival. Hell hath no sarcasm like a woman bored. With nothing but cubicles to entertain us, we become Statler and Waldorf, the cranky old Muppets in the balcony, finding a way to prove that everything sucks. It usually makes for a hilarious morning and a great substitution for the fresh-baked donuts they don't serve at my workplace.

But I didn't send the e-mail about the stranger to my buddy. I sent it to THE STRANGER.

What the? NO! Come back. Retrieve! How did this happen? I have no idea. I scrambled to un-send the message, a function that has never been a part of Yahoo Mail. Then in my panic, I turned the format from Classic to Beta, changing the font, colors and placement of everything on my screen. I was squinting at tiny words, frantically clicking in an attempt to do damage control.

It's like that story you read in gradeschool about the kid who gossips. He asks a wise old man how he can undo the harm caused, and the old man tells him take a pillow and empty its feathers onto the ground. The kid does as he is told. Then the old man instructs him to return each feather to the pillow, but the wind has blown half of them away. The kid understands how hard it is to take words back. And switches from Yahoo to Gmail.

The person that wrote me was gracious enough to let it slide, but it has still been bothering me. It's one thing to criticize someone to their face, and another thing to do it behind their back. But doing it behind their back and accidentally to their face takes ALL the fun out of it. I think the only thing that will make me feel better is time. Because Time is a magazine rife with idiots to ridicule. It's like shooting fish in a barrel.

Sometimes Some Crimes Go Slippin' Through the Cracks

ARGH! I did it again! Last night I was scheduled to leave Positively Awesome early to perform on someone else's show. I guess I was so focused on producing that I forgot to hand the reins over. I wish I could say it was the first time this has happened.

The shows I've missed in my life (and the people who have accepted my apologies):

Little Ethnic Girls and Friends at Stand-up New York (Maria Shehata and Helen Hong)
Ed Sullivan on Acid at Freddy's Back Room (Pat O'Shea)
Custer Fluck (Jeff Ashworth)
Beauty Bar (Vince Averill and Jesse Popp)
Kofi Anan and the Laugh Squad at Chelsea International Hostel (Jay Welch)

I'm not posting this to broadcast that I have early-onset Alzheimer's but more as a way of holding myself accountable. Especially during busy weeks where I have a show every night. Next time I miss your gig, your pizza's hot, or it's FREE!

Missing a Gig

Last night while checking my e-mail I realized I was scheduled to do Vince Averill's and Jesse Pop's Beauty Bar show a week ago. I failed to put it in my calendar, and so I completely missed it. That's a horrible feeling for a comedian. Not only does it make you look unprofessional but it is a missed opportunity to get better. Every minute of stage time is crucial to growth as a comic. Remember how Kris-Kross felt when they missed the bus? It's like that.

On the bright side, I did fold some socks that night.

The One That Got Away

Sometimes you don't get the commercial you audition for. Actually most times. And you get used to that. But I auditioned for one in particular that I thought would be really fun. This one had a prop microphone in the auditioning room. And you had to pretend to be a stand-up. Me likey!



We had the option of reading the American role and the UK role, if we could fake a British accent. Can I fake one? Chim-chimeney chim-chimeny chim-chim-charoo!

At the callback (CALLBACK? YES!) they told us all to stop kidding ourselves and just do it with our normal US dialects. Fine. We were given several different "bits" to read as a comedian. Great. Then we were asked in, one by one, and David Steinberg was in the room, smiling a patient smile. An I-Direct-Curb-Your-Enthusiasm-And-May-Remember-You-For-Future-Projects smile.

"Hi...uh...you're from the TEE-VEE. Me Abbi. I like to reading for you now." I kept stuttering and lost my cool. He told me to relax and start again. I flubbed the line in a different way, tensed up, apologized, and the mood in the room dropped. The other people evaluating my read were somber. I switched gears and I went with my own stand-up and got a laugh. THERE. But alas, I didn't get the job. And when I see it on TV it's going to remind me of the time I got flustered over a big name. This better be the last time! And by that I mean The Hoff had better not dabble in commercials.

Science!

This is a picture of my husband Luke holding a compact for me while I put makeup on before a show. It was taken by Harris Bloom outside of Conker Hill Bar. I am often holding four things at once, so Luke was nice enough to provide an extra set of hands. I think I was squeezing a pair of boots between my legs, planning to put them on next.

The show was quite a doozy. By no fault of the comedians, the audience was unpredictably insolent. There was a pizza box kicked back and forth across the floor during my opening.

Crowd: We're playing soccer!
Me: That's not how you play soccer.

I learned beforehand that most of the people attending Happy Hour worked at the advertising firm "Ogilvy".

Me: Who's here from Ogilvy?
Crowd: WOO!
Me: I love your delicious, chocolatey drink.

They were so loud and unruly, I began most of my jokes without finishing them. After I settled them down they became ghostly quiet and refused to laugh at anyone. Then a man at the bar, close to the stage decided it was okay to laugh but also added, "Science!" after every punchline he enjoyed.

Harris: Yeah, science...I don't understand what that means.
Man: "Science!" From the 1980s.
Harris: Oh, Weird Science? The movie?
Man: No...
Me (from the audience): She Blinded Me With Science, the song?
Man: No...the sportscaster on the local news channel who would always yell, "Science!"

Riiiight. Doug Adler and Harris Bloom put on a great show and invite great acts, so do check it out. Just don't bring pizza. And for the love of the 1980s, keep the demons in your head.

Comedy at Conker Hill
640 10th Ave (45/46 streets)
Tuesdays at 8:00PM, FREE

Rolling the Comedy Gutter Ball

Two bombing stories in a row! Can you tell I haven't had my Wheaties?

Yesterday, I was slated to perform at Caroline's for The World Series of Stand-up. Unfortunately the show was cancelled. Fortunately, I dodged my own bullet. I have had such a bad attitude about performing lately, that I was convinced I would fail. I was toying with the idea of going on stage and just playing recorded music from the last time I was put on hold by tech support.

Every time I have gone up I have lost to whoever I was pitted against. I felt the same as when I was six, and went bowling with my family. So many of my balls had veered into the gutter, that on my next turn, I saved the ball the trouble and deposited it directly to the gutter THEN rolled it. My parents scolded me for being a spoiled sport and a quitter, which just made me feel worse.

The lesson I did not learn then, that I am supposed to learn now, is that failure is not trying. So did I fail since I did not have to try? I pondered this dilemma by eating a Cinnabon for dinner.

Fat Chance

This past Monday marked the return of the Root Hill Open Mic!

I was pumped to host the show. Giddy with excitement. Then about 4 minutes into my opening the vibe went south. My energy dropped, my confidence disappeared, and my desire to perform turned into a loathing of humanity. I was in the middle of working on a new joke called, "Dating Heavy".

"I don't like to joke about fat people. Have you ever been in love with someone who was overweight? The hugs alone are heaven! So soft and warm..." (this is the set-up to a joke that ultimately refers to uncooked pizza dough. I know. It's in the works.)

But in response to my rhetorical question one of the comedians at the mic playfully muttered something, and four comics around him burst into laughter.

Me: What did he say?

Audience: (Silence)

Me: Seriously, what did he say?

Luke: He said, "No."

Comic: (Mumbling again. More laughter.)

Me: What's he saying now?

Audience: (Silence)

Me: You're not going to tell me?

Luke: You asked if anyone had dated a fat person, and I told you, he said, "No."

Abbi: Well, now I've lost my train of thought. Any more outbursts like that, and you are cut from the list.

Audience: (Slight chuckle followed by Silence).

I didn't recover for the ENTIRE show. Every time I tried to comment about a performer I felt like I was antagonizing them. I was already bummed out about a few things that had happened this week: some articles I read online coupled with good old fashioned self-doubt. It happens to everyone, and it's what makes doing comedy so hard sometimes. Going through the motions when you don't feel like it. Getting out of your head about how you come across. Calmly dealing with distractions and bringing the focus back to yourself.

I am determined not to let that happen again, so I look forward to seeing you and your doughy behind at the next one!

Root Hill Open Mic
262 4th Ave (@ Carroll St)
Brooklyn, NY 11215
Mondays at 8:00PM, sign-up at 7:00PM

You Passed! Hooray!

Jon: Pronounced his first patient today.

Abbi (likes this): Congratulations Dr. K! Way to go with treating a patient! I have a rash I think you should take a look at.


Cyrus: um abbi - i think pronounced means bad news.

Alisa: Yeah, pronounced as in pronounced dead.

(EEEE...Quick! Recover!)


Abbi: Oh, that's horrible. I am sorry you had to go through that.

(Good. Just in time. Now move along...)

Abbi (continued): (...is that why they say, "I pronounce you man and wife"?)

(Oh boy. You couldn't resist, could you?)

Abbi (continued): Okay no time for jokes.

(Too late!)

Abbi (continued): Sorry again Jon. But still proud of you.


Jon: Abbi, that's hilarious. Seriously, this made my morning! Yeah, it was really sad but also a unique experience to be with the family through that. But your comments...awesome. :)

(All's well that ends well!)

The Crowd That Could Not Love Me

I was so geared up to knock it out of the park Sunday night. Great club, great lineup, funny host who had sufficiently warmed everyone up. Then it was my turn. Many jokes were met with polite laughter, but too many others were met with blank stares. The crowd looked like a panel of Guess Who tiles.

"Is your person young?"
Yes..
"Is your person wearing a frown?"
Yes...

Once in between silences a man in the back muttered something, and the people at his table laughed. I said, "Oh, what was that Sir?" to which he responded by becoming a stone statue--like kids playing hide and seek who think if they don't move, you'll walk on by them. I tried to show him I wasn't annoyed, just curious. "All I see over there is a Hawaiian shirt and a nice smile". This was true. When someone sits in the back of the room, beyond the bright lights, if you stare long enough their form starts to develop, like in a Polaroid picture. All that was coming through were green palm trees over white, and a few inches above that, gleaming teeth nervously clenched.


He finally showed a sign of life. "I HAD to wear the Hawaiian shirt. I knew someone was gonna crack on this shirt."
--No, there's nothing wrong with your clothes! Let's talk about MY clothes." After all, the next 10 minutes are supposed to be about me. I looked at myself. I saw nothing funny about what I had chosen to wear. I shrugged and moved on to my next joke. Sadly he didn't come with me.

Even sadder, that God-awful shirt remained uncriticized.
Photo credit: boardgamegeek.com

Nyack-ety-yack (Don't Talk Back)

Had a gig in Nyack, NY this past weekend.


We carpooled, with Luke driving,


me back-seat driving,


and Matt Little, Kevin McCaffrey, and J-L Cauvin in tow.

The show was Comedy Night, in a cozy Latin fusion cafe with a theme of religious relics. A section of the crowd, one table up front, were Comedy Night regulars, and apparently their tastes were a little refined. Each of us had completely different material, and none of it was to this table's liking. Out of the three men and three women seated together, two of the women were stone-faced, one woman had commentary for every performer, two of the men stared down and sat with their hands clasped over their mouths. The third man turned his whole body away from the stage to show his distaste. The entire show.

Some of us went blue, some of us were clean, all of us talked about life experiences which differed from one another. Here were the topics that did not go over well with these people:

Being raised by a single parent
Being raised by both parents
Dating
Being single
Being engaged
Being black
Being white
Being black and white
Having a job
Being unemployed
Being religious
Hating religion
Happy that Obama is in office
Not liking that Obama is in office
Ambivalent now that Obama is in office

These people were like Teflon. Nothing stuck to them. Nothing resonated with them or seemed to come close to what they live through each day. Apparently they were cleverly disguised aliens from another planet. Talking to them did not help, ignoring them did not help. Finally, we squeezed a few chuckles out of them.

Here's what did well, or at least inspired one woman in the front to start talking loudly with us:

Dogs
Ad-libbing about the objects in the room
Asking what they wanted to hear about (answer: Spring time. Unfortunately this answer came at the end of the last performer's set)

But what do you want? It's not the Big City. Like I said, their tastes are little refined.

Ask Abbi: Hecklers

Chris of cynical-c.com writes:

Hey have you ever been heckled while on stage?

The third time I ever performed stand-up, I talked about working as a waitress. I said something about the tips I get, and a guy shouted, "Your what?!" I was so focused on telling the joke right, I had no idea why he was confused. "My TIPS." The audience giggled, and I realized what "tips" sounds like. I felt like Moe on the Simpsons. "Bea O'Problem! Bea O'Problem! Come on, guys, do I have a Bea O'Problem here?" He heard me wrong and got a laugh. Heckle or not?

Another time, I was talking about being single after a breakup, and someone in the crowd muttered, "Good," but no one in the crowd reacted. He had a knee-jerk reaction to my anti-man rant that only I heard. Heckle or not?

Once a couple in the front row was whispering to eachother about what to order, and several heads turned away from me and in the direction of the couple. Heckle or not?

Often I mistake a distraction for heckling, and I point it out when the audience was already listening with full attention. This breaks up my momentum, and it's best to ignore it and roll right through. From the comedian's perspective, we see and hear everything. A fly buzzing around, a cell phone opening in the back, the air conditioning rumble, someone shift in a chair. Being comfortable on stage and staying focused are two good ways to not be distracted. When someone flat out interrupts, the audience becomes distracted. Diffusing it with a joke shifts the control back to you. Then there's always the Bill Burr approach...

Feel free to post your questions for Abbi in the comments section, to be answered in a later post, or write curlycomedy (at) yahoo.com with "Ask Abbi" in the Subject

Photo credit:
blazesoftball.com

Failure = Not Trying

Missed a guest spot at a comedy club due to late train

A casting agent for a major network changed her mind about considering me for anything

Forgot half of costume for character at my own show

Tanked an audition to perform in an improv troupe

Elicited pity heckles from an open mic full of poets, the saddest people in the world

Ad-libbed, "I just finished watching a Chris Rock special, and I really feel like I can tell it like it is! Watch! (searched brain for shocking and insightful statement) I...like...gum. I'm NEVER SCARED to talk about gum."

Blame It On The (T)Rain

I had a very exciting evening cut out for myself. I was going to give my second guest spot at a particular club. Warm, hearty laughs inside, chilly drizzle outside. Cozy, fun, and a great opportunity for stage time.

I left the house with an hour of travel time for what should be a 45 minute commute. In a perfect world, I would have shown up early. In New York City, I have just kicked sand in the bully's eye. The Metropolitan Transportation Authority doesn't like its naps interrupted.

After pacing the platform for ten minutes, I went to the booth to get some answers. The man leaned forward in his chair to realize his second calling as an interrogating officer.
"Let's go over this one more time. You want to go uptown."
That's right. I have to be there soon. Where is the train?
"I'll tell you where you have to be. Right here, until I get some answers."
Huh?
"We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way..."

He finally revealed that the local train was inexplicably and unusually running express, bypassing my stop. I would have to exit, take the train the opposite direction to an express stop, and then take it back uptown. But it may switch to local again, slowing me down. I went above ground and tried to jog twelve blocks to a station where I would have other train options. I called the club and warned them I was running behind. I had 38 minutes to get my spot, or an additional 8 minutes if I used the time slot after mine. At this point I was watching the clock like a hawk. On a rock. With a sock.

8:53 I catch the Q. I am sweaty. I am panicked. The train stalls. Don't STALL! GO!

8:55 We are back in business. How bad was the wait? Take two minutes to brush your teeth with a pumice stone.

8:58 Train stalls on Manhattan Bridge I am thinking, I have 24 minutes before I lose my second chance to perform.

9:00 Back in business. How bad was the wait? Spend two minutes inhaling the aroma of a package of baloney.

9:05 Stalls between Prince and 14th Street (WHY?)

9:10 Stalls between 14th and 23rd (WHY ME?)

9:13 Stalls between 23rd and 28th. (Oh, why not?)

9:14 Stalls after moving a few feet. I have no way to call the club underground, but it is pretty clear I am missing the 9:22 spot.

It is one thing to have to skip movie previews and another to be late to work, but I had a deeper level of disappointment. It's like the train missed my little league championship for a business trip. With its secretary.

By 9:17 a full on delay was declared. "Attention Ladies and gentlemen hmmmshrmfmf smoke on 5th avenue hmmshrmfm punctuality is for nerds mdmgsjdfhth I have to do my sudoku." I threw in the towel. The train inched towards 34th St and shut down completely. I called the club from above ground and apologized for the drunken uncle that ruined my prom.

I was able to head back down town towards the East Village to catch Matt Ruby's Flying Carpet show. No stage time, but Jesse Pop and Matt McCarthy made me forget my troubles. Then I ducked out briefly for some dumplings down the street and got monsooned upon.

Performing For Ghosts

Why I Don't Talk Politics

On January 23, 2002, I got to take part in a political talk show on MSNBC called "Alan Keyes is Making Sense". It was very exciting for me, as a sophomore in college. Not only was it my first time on national television, but it was also the first time I ever received public feedback for my opinions. Shout-out to CW in the Colorado Department of Corrections! It may have also been the pivotal moment I decided I have no idea what I am doing pursuing a career in politics. I gave stand-up a try eight months later and never looked back.

From the transcript:

KEYES: Aren't there certain crimes that just cry out for the death penalty?

CRUTCHFIELD: No, there are not. And the subject of evil, I think that evil, the basis of evil is hatred, and the basis of the capital punishment is also the vengeance and hatred itself. And the only thing we can combat that with is the abolishment of capital punishment, which would suggest forgiveness or love. And that is my main theme, I think, that I'll be talking about this evening.

This was the first thing out of my mouth. I was so nervous about sounding knowledgeable that I just babbled key words that had been floating around my head that day. I couldn't even put together a coherent sentence.

The brief segment was filled with pauses and confused looks from me and the other two panelists (also students). The Evil vs. Love debate may sound a little out there, but this was three months after 9/11 (when the Pentagon ruins burned two visible miles from my dorm room), and I was on a crusade for peace.

Looking back, however, I would have answered his question differently. There ARE certain crimes that call for the death penalty. Producing political talk shows for example.

Lessons I Learned:
Don't come to a talk show with a theme.
If you have a theme, don't announce that you have a theme.
Love and forgiveness are still important but are probably best taught through song or religious texts.
"The Vengeance and Hatred Itself" is not an acceptable description for a government policy, but would make a good band name.

Don't Cry For Me Argentina

I handed my championship belt over to the talented Julian McCullough last night.

Catch him at The Comedy Cellar, or competing again next week at Caroline's. Experience the excitement of March Comedy Madness, as advertised on Shecky Magazine! Although I won't be a part of the further festivities, it is a guaranteed good time. Josh Filipowski did an excellent job of organizing it, and together with Caroline's own Bryan Kennedy, they have drawn the attention of the MSG network! Click here under "Recently Featured on MSG, NY" for a clip of the madness!

I did my best, Mick. I gave 'em the old one-two combination with dog jokes at the end. I mean, are there dogs in this city or what? HAHAHA! You feel me. Thank you to my friends and family for coming out or sending supportive e-mails. None of that is as appreciated as money, but you do what you can.

We're All Old

I recently performed in a show that had the laughs in the right places but an overall sense of "Huh?" from the audience. This could be because I was not on my A-game that night, or it could be attributed to the fact that a lot of the crowd was young and male. If I were a college comic the room would have rocked with hoots and spilled beer. But instead, the candles on the tables flickered periodically from chuckles, and I was unsure of whether my Alan Thicke references would be properly savored.

Dear youthful crowd,
I don't want to let an age gap between us intimidate me because no matter who you are, there is someone younger than you. You know how you think you're awesome because you scored a fake id? Try to rock a pair of Heely's. Hear that? It's the sound of your youth whizzing by.

If you don't think you're old yet you will. It happens by accident. Your eyes trail from the comics to the electronics ads. Then they see a picture of a politician. Then they read the article! You think,Stop. Go back to reading the comics. Sigh, these jokes are so...unfulfilling. Wait, I mean they suck. Yeah. These comics suck. Hey, what's this? Today's Family Circus is so...touching. You're not the loudest on the subway anymore. Then someone calls you Sir, and you laugh, and they're serious. Your parents don't even have to have gray hair yet or stop paying for your loans for the transition to happen.

So just live life and try not to regret how old you are or how lame the older girl on stage is when she says, "Who's watchin' the Antiques Road Show here? I see ya! I see ya!"

LYLAS,
Abbi