I hosted the Comic Strip's Hit or Miss night last night and I'm beginning to show my comedy age.
First there was the comic who refused to follow one of ANDREW IWANYK's impromptu performance pieces (in this case, with his co-conspirators JORDAN CHYSOWSKI and MATT ALEDDINE, the artist formerly known as Powermann), instead insisting he went on first.
I didn't mind accomodating his request, but I was genuinely surprised to hear him make it. When I started in stand-up, it was a privilege being invited to be a part of Iwanyk's debacles. And being the guy trusted to clean-up the devastation left in Andrew's wake...that was a badge of honor. Had I been in this comic's place, it never would have occurred to me to turn down the challenge.
Times change, I guess.
The second event was introducing in a new comic to the stage. After saying his name, I looked towards the stage entrance.
I've had this happen before. New comics sometimes aren't ready for their cue and take their sweet time getting to the stage, leaving me standing there like a doofus.
Fucking amateurs, I thought.
Actually, what I thought was fucking amat--
Because before I could complete the eur in amateur, the Comic in Question leaped out of the crowd and onto the stage behind me like Diamond Dallas Page coming after NWO era Randy Savage.
The sound tech said I looked more pissed off than he had ever seen me walking off stage.
And he was right.
I would like to say that I was mad because the comic was unprofessional. The truth is, I was mad at myself.
I've watched professional wrestling for twenty-three years. Almost two thirds of my life, and longer than every romantic relationship I've ever had combined.
And if there's one thing I should know from all that time, if you call a guy's name and his music plays, and he DOESN'T show up...you better turn around because nine times out of ten it's because the motherfucker's coming at you from behind out of the crowd. Possibly with a chair.
If I don't pick it up, I could finish my next set laid out on the stage with NWO spray-painted on my back.
In other news, I had a dream last night.
Not a Martin Luther King type dream of little black boys and little black girs and little white boys and little white girls.
My dream was about Guns N Roses getting back together.
The only problem was Axl refused to sing 'You Could Be Mine'
Calling on my negotiation skills, I offered to sing instead, provided the name of the band was changed to Guns N Brodribbs.
Axl laughed and agreed to sing. Catastrophe averted.
The only part left was to teach Edmonton comic--NATHA SEMENYNA--who was singing back-up vocals how to sing 'with your bitch slap rappin' and your cocaine tongue'
You're welcome GnFnR fans.
Saturday, February 25 - RCW Explosion, Glengarry Community Hall - Edmonton
Dan's writing on Dating and relationships can be found at thegatewayboyfriend.blogspot.com
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