#standupcomedyblog

I can’t believe it. The pain finally subsided. That was rough man. I have to get a tooth extracted after the holidays and that’s not even the one that just tortured me for the last hour. Turning screws into my gums, I just wanted to enjoy a slider from work! Who eats while they’re in pain, that’s no fun.

It made me wish I was bombing on stage. That kind of pain is ok. I can deal with an audience staring at me during one of my confusing act-outs with maximum levels of flailing. But I can’t block out the pain of tooth #3.

I can fix the teeth. I can fix my reputation. I can’t fix that joke. Time to extract it.

Bombing in the moment, it feels like it’s all over and I let everybody down. My friends on the show. The booker, well, that’s a one and fuck you, you’re done. That one comic that I’ve been wanting to meet and now this is their first impression of me. The couple that I met before the show, they were so excited for me. They didn’t say goodbye on the way out. Even the servers were disappointed, they could feel the awkwardness in the club while dropping off cocktails.

There are many comics that I look up to that have ONLY seen me bomb. People I really like, but I only run into them every 6 months. I want them to know that I’m a pretty funny guy, but yes, I also bomb huge when it goes wrong. Spin the wheel on any given week and there’s gonna be a bomb. Those people always see me bomb. Then I have a good set, but they left early- shit! If you pay attention to shit like this then you’re crazy like me. I have a handful of names that I want to impress because I love funny people. I want to be funny with them.

Posting about bombing on Facebook sounds like a cry for help, but I just think it’s interesting. I know I’m fine, I bomb all the time, it’s part of the work. Maybe non-comics and family members think, “Oh, standup is just not for you Marty.” It’s hard to explain that I have to be terrible to get anywhere. That’s what we forget, we all fucking bomb, but mentioning it is like admitting you’re a shitty comedian or something. It shouldn’t matter online anyway, when you do good at mics, people notice, that’s that. Wait, this guy just admitted he bombed, forget it. I didn’t realize he dabbled in failure, I’ll book Neel Nanda instead. I like to reference Neel Nanda, I haven’t seen him in years. I’m pretty sure Neel Nanda has only seen me bomb.

I’m not gonna post how I kill. I don’t kill, I don’t destroy, I have good sets. I don’t know how to destroy yet. Seems like a lot of comedians do, but I don’t do that, believe me. I’ve seen professionals wait a minute on stage to start their next joke because the room was too busy howling. That seems like a bonafide murder. That’s a killer.

Sometimes the room isn’t with me, but then I’ll see a random couple laughing their asses off through an entire bit. They liked my Metallica routine or they like the horror movie stuff. I just caught a sneak preview of my future fans. They’re out there, just gotta trust myself. Keep writing the stupid stuff that makes me laugh. Do the comedy I want to do. Eat plenty of shit on stage to get there.

I bombed in San Diego harder than I’ve ever bombed in my life. It’s worse when you feel it happening and it’s so strong it interrupts your joke. I actually stopped because it was overwhelming. I started talking about how it wasn’t going well. I insisted a woman in the front row hated me. I dug myself deeper. I sounded insincere when talking about a charity. My jokes floundered. I fucked up other comic’s intros. I got the light 10 minutes early. I bought an audience member a beer and even that gesture looked back-handed. I guess I killed after all, but not in a good way.

The other comics avoided eye contact while it was happening, just listening to me drown. Nobody liked me. Then I did it a SECOND TIME in the same night. It really shook me to the core. Thank Christ I didn’t record it, one of the few fucks ups that paid off, I don’t have to quote my bombing to you verbatim. Believe me it…was…the…WURST. (seven assholes have a heart-attack from laughing so hard)

Every week is different. My ego inflates after a string of minor victories. Then the inevitable bombing sideswipes me a day later, hurling me backwards into the shit. There’s that feeling of, well now my friends don’t think I’m capable of being funny. They’ll forget I was ever good! I did everything we usually mock at open mics. I didn’t trust myself. I got caught up in the words. I never looked at the audience. Fuck, I thought I had it all figured out! Guess I’m starting over again.

Here’s a short documentary I shot about a group of comics dealing with a tougher than usual gig. Bombing seemed like the only option, even though our booker insisted that “If people don’t laugh, you are not bombing.”

We all enjoy watching our friends bomb right? Come on! Yeah you do. I love seeing my talented friends fall from grace every once in awhile, it makes us equals. Or puts me slightly on top, haha! (high-fives nobody)

Understanding the pain, that’s what brings us together.

Just remember, you’re not alone. I saw you bomb. Maybe you saw me bomb. It know it’s awful. I’m sure you’re very good, just not that time. Huh. Next time was actually a little worse. Well, it happens. Three times is definitely not a charm. ….uh-oh.

On second thought, I’ll never bomb as hard as you- YEEEEEEEESH! (pulls collar, makes farting noises)

Here’s a clip of me bombing through a half-idea that I can’t seem to articulate or say in an interesting manner!

4 years 4 months later…

I drove home on the 405, singing to The Beach Boys "Barbara Ann" like an asshole, alternating on the harmonies. I’ve been singing along to this song since I graduated from Maui High School (Class of '98 brah!) and I always get swept up in the happiest of memories. The Beach Boys are laughing while they’re singing, totally unprofessional. Musicians trying to be funny...when will they ever learn? There's a time and place- when you're in the studio performing, you BE PROFESSIONAL!

So what do you guys think I should write about?

I’m happy now because I hit two mics and I had fun at both of them. I feel good about what I’m doing. I occasionally THINK that and then some miserable mic sets me back a thousand years and I don’t know shit all over again. Wait, I think I just figured this- SMACK! I’m starting to get comedy now-WOMP! Last year I didn’t know dick, this year, I finally found my voi-BLOPFUK!

I’m becoming more and more relaxed, putting hundreds of hours of bombing in. Keeping my expectations low, trying to have fun and BE GOOFIER. Trust myself to be more spontaneous and not just saying the words that are over-rehearsed, trying to find new words to paint the picture. Then occasionally phoning it in, but acknowledging it, like when you stray away from meditation with distracting thoughts. Now Marty, take a deep breath and just get back on track when you can...you dildo. You can look up that classic Sesame Street clip AFTER you’ve finished your meditation. You can try to tell your joke in a fresh way at the next mic. Now visualize your dick jokes slapping across the street like a game of Frogger…

Sometimes I’m so desperate for approval of a new bit I’ll ask Claire to watch me. It’s usually pretty painful, but she’s a good gauge of what’s godawful or she’ll see the potential in a bit and try to contribute. Then I’ll shut her down real quick because who’s the comedian here, right? I really think she believes in me (because she told me she believes in me, in those words) but sometimes I just want another comic to say "Hey good joke!" preferably someone with a Laughs on Fox credit.

Years have gone by and someone I’ve admired all this time is on the same show and we finally exchange pleasantries. No ego, just hey- we were on the same show! You’re pretty great. Love what you’re doing. Now you say it back to me. SAY IT BACK MOTHERFUCKER, I JUST SUPPORTED YOUUUUUU (falls into abyss, tongues of drunken audience members wagging and stabbing my mid-section)

I see those late night, sentimental “I love comedy” posts on Facebook every once in awhile and I can feel the cynical cesspool of backlash forming a giant tidal wave, but I totally get it. I had a night like that tonight. I have nights like this at many open mics. It’s friends, it’s the few people that are suddenly looking up at me, who were buried in their laptops a minute ago. It’s a hug from a comic that I love, or some rapid-fire joking going on outside in a semicircle of idiots. Being around funny people. Standing alone at an open mic that I’m dreading and suddenly finding that one person- a friend. They have my back with the perfect line that triggers a bark of laugh out of me, because it’s also relief. It’s gonna be okay because I can still hang with this fantastic funny person.

I got paid for some impossible bar show. I wasn’t told in advance and when I finished my mostly silent set I got a handful of bills. Mostly pesos and a farthing, but it’s amazing to get paid when you’re not expecting it. Now if only I could win some tickets to a Flappers show! (get yer jabs in ya cynical fuck, don’t get too sentimental Feelie Dan!) One comic offered me his hotel room for the night because he wasn't going to use it. Almost made me cry- the room was a shithole!

I think our cat is out of the woods. Tune is napping in front of the heater, thanks for asking. Claire is gently snoring in the bedroom, I assume. She doesn’t snore loud enough to penetrate two doors. Now the cat is lapping water from a jar- one of my favorite sounds in the world. Oh yeah, the Patreon thing is kind of funny. I have 6 subscribers, but I’m enjoying making the videos- kind of a video journal of some open mics I’ve been visiting for the first time. A video review of the mic and some random interviews, testimonials, etc. If you can’t get enough of the open mic bullshit and you’re curious it’s $2 a month to join.

My Patreon

We can’t end this journal entry on a plug though, that’s pathetic.

It’s nice to have a new family of friends in this strange world, but then I remember my friends from acting school or the people I knew through the Geffen or Arclight. Years are going by. Marriages, break-ups, babies, health scares and the occasional tragedy that affects us all. I’ll hear a song or see a clip from some project that brings those people swirling back in my head- oh yeah, there are other people you love too. Maybe I should give them a call. See one of their shows. Stop by for a visit. Finally introduce myself to their ten-year old baby.

I get asked,

“How’s the comedy going?

I usually ramble for a few minutes about the intense highs and lows, desperately trying to make sense of it all and it all sounds absurd saying it out loud, like I’m lying to their face!

You gotta bomb? You gotta do shit mics? You gotta write? Network? But what about the comedy special?

I always manage to squeeze in that one overly sincere declaration of,

I’m in this for the win.

I mean it. Sure I’ve FLIRTED with quitting in my head, but it’s because I’ve been on vacation and it can feel especially troubling going back to a mic after a week of no stage time. It rarely happens and when it does I feel sad. Yet it gets harder to go back for some reason. I never seriously considered quitting. I made a feature film in 2007 because I told myself I could do it. I never said My movie will get distribution. It kind of fizzled out after the completion thing.

But I can do this. I am a comedian. I do other stuff, but if you’re interested we can always talk about it.

Don’t forget the patreon thing. Come see a show- check my dates at Martywurst.com. I have Dvds of my short films, ask me and I’ll give you one. TheWurstTweet on Twitter. Search me on your podcast app. Find me on YouTube. Open Mic Reviews on Instagram or Marty Wurst for my regular pinups. I have old movie reviews on FirstShowing.net. My website has a Steve Buscemi voicemail. I’m in a shitty movie called Death Valley: The Revenge of Bloody Bill. I sang to Jennifer Connelly at a press junket for Blood Diamond. My Google search is pretty great. I made a movie called Salivate- you can’t find it anywhere. I have two audiobooks on Audible- Dark Sanity and Zombies in Love.

Shitting on people in conversation. Shitting on the Comedy Store, it's clearly rigged! Shitting on people in jest because I'm fresh off a Roast Battle and just can't help myself. Shitting on other comedians because my comedy is far superior. Shitting on people when I guest on a podcast. Shitting on lowly beginners who don't know any better. Shitting on my own comedy. Shitting on people on stage. Shitting on the venue. Shitting on the host who means well, but still fucked up my name. Writing a shitty review on ITunes, just so I can shit on the host who I hate.

Shitting on the comedy couples who stick together. Shitting on podcasts that I wish I was invited on. Shitting on bookers that never book me. Shitting on comics that never say hi. Shitting on hosts that don't even try.

Shitting on bringer shows. Shitting on your Instagram account. Shitting on your pool party with your stoner friends. Shitting on your sexy pics.

Shitting on your stupid ass glossy flyer that misrepresents the shithole I'm performing in. Shitting on your outrageous cover charge for a show full of amateurs. Shitting on becoming a Comedy Store Regular- why you? Shitting on your tour. Shitting on your GoFundMyShittyComedyChannel.

Shitting on everyone in a public forum because you're all against me. Shitting on other clubs. Shitting on talent coordinators. Shitting on the 1-drink minimum. Shitting on you because I can't take a compliment. Shitting on you for being on your phone. Shitting on you for talking during my set. Shitting on you for leaving right away.

Shitting on your pre-booked open mics. Shitting on your living situation. Shitting on comedy festivals. Shitting on comedy contests. Shitting on clean comedy shows. Shitting on hecklers. Shitting on your first open mic videos.

Shitting on your Twitter joke. Shitting on your pathetic merch. Shitting on your attempt to brand yourself with a catchphrase. Shitting on your hashtags.

Shitting on your blogs. Shitting on The Comedy Bureau. Shitting on that Netflix special. Shitting on improv, actors, and anyone who wants to check off comedy on their bucket list.

Shitting on tags that I didn't ask for. Shitting on your webseries. Shitting on your workout pics. Shitting on your inspirational quotes. Shitting on your sudden change of attitude you hypocrite.

Shitting on your new headshots, shitting on you for quitting comedy or not quitting comedy. Shitting on you for starting comedy. Shitting on you for pitching a joke to me.  Shitting on you for doing a show in your underwear. Shitting on the person who just died. Shitting on you for joking about it and beating me to it.

Shitting on all the negative fucks that I want to distance myself from. Shitting on desperate cries for help. Shitting on someone who just wants a sincere answer on Facebook. Shitting on people that just want someone to stand up for them. Shitting on your political beliefs. Shitting on you for getting political. Shitting on you for being emotional.

Amber Scalzo and I are hitting the road. Santa Cruz, Coos Bay, Seattle, Spokane. Maybe Boise, Grass Valley, San Francisco and Bakersfield on the way back. It's a long haul for only a couple of shows and whatever open mics we manage to get on. Is this a tour or a very long drive?

I feel bad about it, but it wasn't for lack of trying. I've been down many rabbit holes the last couple of months, searching for mics and shows, trying to put the puzzle pieces down and creating a schedule that makes sense. Hitting up bookers and friends of bookers. Some of my LA friends tried to help and they came through. Some bookers asked for our stand up clips and never got back to me. Damn. It hurts that we don't have stand up clips that are current, I think it's blowing our opportunities. Then my new laptop died on me, so now I can't even edit the recent stand up footage I got of us. Great timing. When I load up my Macbook Pro it looks like an 8 bit video game that gets stuck on the apple boss.

I think the uncertainty of the trip makes me nervous too. We have two shows that are spread out and a lot of breathing room. Will we hit this mic, can we make the drive in time, should we just go here instead and meet up with these people or power it out and drive through the night? Boise or Everett? Portland or Grass Valley?

Fuck it all. This is what I love. To go on the road. This is an adventure. I'm super lucky to be able to do this. I'm unemployed and my girlfriend is letting me take her car so I can drive 2,400 miles. She knows I have to do this and she understands the difficult world of comedy that I've chosen.

 So why feel bad about it? I'm already going on my 2nd trip, with only 4 years into comedy. I'm going to see some cousins and Amber and I have multiple places to crash. All we have to do is drive, try to get some sleep and do some stand up comedy. Yeah, there are some nights where it's just impossible to get to a mic without killing ourselves to get there, it's not worth it, we need our sleep. Sometimes the days and mics are not going to align perfectly. I guess that's when those pop-up mics come in handy, I gotta get my own setup like Johnnie Flowers.

Claire is carpooling and taking the bus while I'm gone. She lives close to work, but I still feel like I'm leaving her life in shambles. She's totally fine with it and only encourages me. I started feeling lonely last night and I'm missing her already. There's always Facetime and consoling emojis I suppose.

I'll be able to feed our cat Tune with this handy Kittyo app that I have on my phone. We have a Kittyo machine (it looks like a blender) that shoots kitty treats and has a laser pointer- so I can interact with the cat remotely. You know, the necessities in life. It barely works, but it gives me a cheap thrill. It was a Kickstarter project that was 2 years late on the delivery date and then it took me a year to get the damn thing working. Some things are worth waiting for. Now I can shoot treats at Tune's dumbfounded face!!!

I told my mom about the trip and when she found out I was going with a woman there was a long pause.

"Oh...that's nice. So Claire is okay with that?"

"Yeah... I mean Amber is a comedian too, we're just friends."

"Does she have a boyfriend?"

"No."

It was pretty uncomfortable and I even started to question myself. Wait, am I doing the right thing? Is there something wrong with this picture?

Claire was listening and she quickly pointed out that my mom must think I sleep around. Yeah...what the fuck? It's not like we're getting motels together or sharing a fucking sleeping bag. We're crashing on friends couches and driving a couple thousand miles to do less than an hour of comedy. And what does that say about Amber? Single people just hopelessly fuck out of desperation? It doesn't matter with who, where, or when, as long as it's a "plump delicious cock"? That's a Norm Macdonald description, sorry.

I'm no skank and besides, Amber likes men, not comedians.

The last time I hit the road was almost a year ago. Tom Allen, John Parr, and Casey, our video guy, hit Arizona for 5 days. We were extremely lucky. We had 7 booked shows and a couple of open mics thrown in the mix. A paid hotel, courtesy of my Aunt Dorise and Uncle Marty- incredible gesture. I was expecting to crash on their floor with a bunch of cats next to me, but they were happy to do it. To top it off, my Uncle passed away after the trip, so it was the last time I got to see him.

Casey filmed nearly all of our sets and some great behind-the-scenes footage, but we never saw it. Weeks after the trip, he said all the stuff he filmed was lost and then he abruptly moved back to Colorado. It's really a shame, our first comedy trip lost, so we'll just have to go by memory:

We did a backyard show, a dive bar, an upscale restaurant, a pizzeria, a blackbox theater and a comedy club. Every night was totally different and kept us on our toes. I had my first drunk woman rush the stage and blather at me,

"Wurst Wurst!"

Tom had the lights go out in the middle of his set at the Firehouse space. The outdoor crew rushed to fix it and 5 minutes later the spotlight came back on and Tom picked up right where he left off. We also watched Tom go into a sports bar no less than 3 times to ask a bartender out, but he would make a B-line for the bathroom every time because he was nervous. He would return to the parking lot, looking defeated, and John would start to build him up again until he reluctantly caved in and marched right back. Goddamn it was funny. We got invited to a coke party after a show. We ran into Arizona's Mike Enders EVERYWHERE. He almost became a parody of himself- the shit-eating grin, the warm greetings around the room, drunker and drunker every time we saw him. I'll have to write about Arizona in a separate entry.

Anyway, I guess we'll never see that footage. I'll just have to film these experiences myself from now on. Arizona was one of the best experiences of my life and now I have another trip to look forward to....tomorrow!

 Got some good playlists. Going to have the blackest coffee, blacker than the souls that frequent The Blacklight District Lounge. I've got the right partner in crime. We have shows. There are mics to be had. No swanky hotel this time, just couches and floors and maybe a bed, but I might as well thank everyone in advance.

THANK YOU.

You want to do this some day? Here's Ron Babcock's helpful guide:

Ron Babcock's Do-it-yourself Standup Tour Guide

Something that really helped me is going through my Facebook friends and writing down a list of every state and linking my friends to the state and city, so I could map out a trip and know where my contacts are. I asked for places to crash or just invited them out to a show. No shame in it. I have family all over, so this is a good way to connect, even if it's incredibly brief. We gotta hang out when we can and help eachother out!

I also wrote down all my phone numbers in a notebook in case my phone decides to die on me. I guess I could write down all the directions too, but I'll just trust that one of us will have a working phone. Or use a handy Thomas Guide! (blows the dust off) *cough cough*

I had an encounter with former Comedy Store talent coordinator, Tommy, who was fired just months prior and was working on developing another home base where he could still play comedy godfather. The Vaucluse Lounge was a mere two blocks away from the Comedy Store and now Tommy was recruiting comics that were still loyal to him and putting on shows. They were calling this place Chaplin's House, but I don't think there was anything historic about it.

It really was an impressive bar/lounge, but management was falling apart. It was a ghost town. I ordered their onion rings and got a pile of American cheese on a couple of turd circles (psst, I'm not really a writer). I ordered something disgusting and got so much more.

"Ooh, that looks good, I'm gonna get that!" one comic said, pinching and stretching some cheese off my plate.

A couple of nights the place was locked up unannounced, black curtains drawn, even though a show was supposed to be going on. Headliners were bailing before their sets.

There were a couple of open mics going on there, too. Tommy would play some acoustic guitar for 30 minutes to get the room warmed up. He played the same three songs over and over. Or maybe it was just the same three chords, I can't remember. He was like one of those dudes that destroy a party by forcing us to listen to a cover of Hotel California. Strictly Hollywood Blvd quality. Then he would hang out for the mic and occasionally give advice to some lucky comic.

After one of my sets, he was suddenly next to me, talking into my ear like David Blaine.

"There's something that's still missing, but I don't know what it is."

"I'm not connecting with the audience?" I asked.

"There was just something missing. Try sitting on a stool and just saying your material, so it's not so (in-your-face gesture) forced. Your material is good, it had an intelligence and you have a good look. It's not about how you look on stage, it's about how you look on camera....really. But I think you just need to say what you have to say- I took it in. You'll get there, I enjoyed it."

Then he patted me on the shoulder and walked away.

Maybe if I worked hard enough I could become a Vaucluse regular! I honestly thought it was cool to get advice from Tommy, despite him being a reputed racist douchebag. I mean, he was once the apprentice of The Comedy Store owner Mitzi Shore, so his opinion has to count for something, right? A racist's opinion is still an opinion. Plus, he really wailed on the guitar!

One night at Vaucluse I waited around for 2 hours to do a 10 minute set. That's actually a good set for that kind of wait, but this night was excruciating. There was a line-up of all male comics that had plenty to say about the opposite sex: Stories varied from "This bitch was sucking my dick," to "I wanted to give her brown eye a black eye!" and so forth. I remember hearing the bartender making pained noises behind the counter, like some victim of a stabbing. left for dead. She had to just stand there and take it...every worthless comedian. Worst of all, EVERYONE got 10 minutes. When the first 30 seconds are torture, the next 9 1/2 feel like a lifetime. When they finally got to me the host said,

"Uhh, you get 2 minutes."

I've never been that pissed at an open mic before. Mother...FUCKER. They were letting the worst people host, nothing ever started on time, the food was godawful, the bartender wanted to kill herself, and no one seemed to give a shit that the place was falling apart. I was mentally trying to stay positive and tune out all the negative shit I'd been listening to, but now I wanted to douse myself in gasoline and tackle the host into the fireplace--that would be such a great closer. My stomach was turning from the onion rings, so I opted for my shitty set instead.

But hey, it's 2 minutes so I did it. I got through a joke-and-a-half. Once I left, I cursed and muttered angrily all the way to the bus, letting the "cocksuckers" and "motherfuckers" fly.

I went home and looked at their Facebook page and saw this ridiculous post,

"Chaplin's House is being called the New Comedy Store...no joke."

Nobody's laughing.

Anyway, that place folded and Tommy moved on to another space where he still occasionally gives out his comedy pointers.

Also in my second year I was doing fewer bringer shows, but I still got roped into a couple more at Flappers. I would quickly get stressed out again and moan to my girlfriend about why I put myself through this. Just reading the emails made me want to puke:

Respond to this email with a head count of how many audience you expect so that we can properly staff the room. 

It takes everyone involved to have epic shows--we do ask everyone to always aim to have at least 5 people per show.  If you are unable to get anyone out please let us know and we will re-schedule you for a date that is more convenient for you to support.

Like I said before, they only want me back when I make some fucking friends!

I decided to not show up at all and go to the Rebel Bite open mic in Long Beach instead. An open mic at a pizza joint was better than doing a bringer show, at least in my head. I wrote back:

Sorry for the delay,   I wanted to get a more accurate count of zero confirmed.    I think my friends tapped out months ago.  Let me know if you want to reschedule or give me the boot.  Or I'll audition again once I have a little fanbase I can depend on instead of wasting everybody's time. Nothing personal.  Thanks.

I shouldn't have felt bad about it anyway, since I bought 4 of my videotaped sets from them.

Then there was the Formosa Cafe. I did it because I was told it wasn't REALLY a bringer show...just sort of. Uggh. I won't mention the names. I can still hear the producer pretending to laugh at other people's sets--so forced and obvious, trying to get the crowd on our side. He'd be looking down at his phone and let out a

"BWAHAHAHAHA!"

Then I'd have to listen to some jerk-off host do his Family Guy impressions for 15 minutes. Then the producer would go up and do the most dated material--many of these bringer show people stick to their one routine. Anyway, what do I know, they're the ones cashing in, right?

I had friends show up for my first and second show, then the third time none of my friends came out and the producer stopped booking me. During past shows, he was blowing smoke up my ass and said all these nice things about my particular brand of humor, but he was only thinking about the head-count. He was a phony just like his forced laughter.

 There were some nice moments. My blues buddy, Street Slim invited me to do a set at The Rainbow Bar and Grill, a really cool rock bar on The Sunset Strip. Just to do something outside the ring of comedians that I was usually bumping heads with felt really special.

My friend Donald and I rented out a black box theater and produced a variety show. It ran 2 1/2 hours and half the audience left, but we had a great time.

I co-produced a comedy show with Jeanne Whitney and Timika Hall at Echoes Under Sunset. We only did 3 shows, but it was a fantastic experience.

I remember bombing at the new UCB on Sunset and when I was walking back to the car, a couple I've never seen before starts yelling at me from their car.

"Marty, you were funny!"

"What?"

"We were inside."

"Really? Thanks, it felt like death in there."

"We thought you were funny."

"Working on it, working on it."

That blew my mind. Who does that? And they remembered my name!

One time they moved a Comedy Store open mic into the Main Room and after we finished our sets, Bill Burr dropped in and did 15 minutes to an all-comic crowd. It was awesome.

Another time I was waiting around for Tony Bartolone's Hat Show to start and the great Rick Shapiro was outside with Rick Wood and Jeremy Bassett. Shapiro was making fun of the Oldtown Pasadena scene and he suddenly gets a glimmer in his eye and this evil grin,

"Let's go to the Mac Store and jerk off!"

It was said with such demented glee. Later we went to get him some Starbucks and he told the barista that his name was Johnny Two Chicks. He was so excited to hear the name called out, but it didn't get the reaction he wanted.

 Then there was the time that I was waiting in the green room for another possible Kill Tony episode at the Comedy Store. Dom Irrera comes in and sits down across from me. It's silent, it's uncomfortable, the guy is amazing, so I'm a little in awe. He asks me if I'm a comic and how long I've been doing it. Very friendly, but I just gave him short answers. Meanwhile, Pat Regan was on stage singing about how much he misses getting jacked off in San Francisco, and Dom and I are just sitting there while this song is in the background. Dom turns to me completely serious and says,

"This song brings back a lot of memories." I barked out a laugh.

I started making goofy set-lists and posting them online. Just a good way to vent about the shit I'd seen at open mics during the week. Here are a few of my favorites:

The usual variety of homophobic/misogynistic shit I'd hear on any given week.

 My second Kill Tony appearance went a little better, but only because I managed to get a few laughs. It was a unique situation because I brought my buddy Dakota Freeman with me, but he was under 21 and wouldn't be allowed inside the club unless he was called up to perform. So I stood outside with him, listening through the door every few minutes to see if we'd get called.

About 30 minutes into the show I got called, but I couldn't open the door from the outside. For a second, the hosts thought I had flaked, but a couple of my friends were in the audience, telling them I was behind the door because I was with a minor. They opened the door for me and at this point there was some confusion because the hosts were under the impression that I was the one underage. Then when it was cleared up Tony says,

"Oh, you're hanging out with underage boys. Ok!"

Before I've even started my set, another pedophile joke had been spiked over my head. You can probably see where this is going.

I didn't gain any Twitter followers this time--in fact, I think I lost a couple.  They probably thought I was really a pedophile.

 Gradually, I found some open mics down in Long Beach, where I had moved in with my girlfriend. There was the SOM open mic at the Rebel Bite pizzeria, The Library Coffeehouse, Blacklight District Lounge and Makai Coffee.

Now if I wasn't feeling the LA scene that week, I had the option to hit some mics in my neighborhood. Rebel Bite, Makai, and The Library were just a mile away. Long Beach was also calmer. I could do longer sets- I did my first 15 minute set at Rebel Bite. I met some nice people. It's funny how these two coffee shops were the polar opposite in terms of an audience--take a look below.

I was also hearing some positive feedback for a change. Sometimes my conceptual ideas would play well and even if they didn't, I'd still be writing the kind of stuff I wanted to try. The support I was getting from my new friends gave me the confidence to try bigger ideas. Showing up to mics and finally having a group of friends to talk to was a nice break. I was so used to being the creeper that was eavesdropping outside a circle of comedy nerds or asking Dean Delray stupid questions in the Comedy Store hallway. Complimenting comics on their podcasts, or a joke that I liked, thinking I always had to go in with a compliment or they'd hate my guts. Then I would fuck up their name anyway, which made the compliment null and void.

I'm still learning to relax, but I'm usually amped up whenever I'm in Los Angeles. I feel the cutthroat competition and that air of judgement. Mostly because I'm carrying it around with me--turn that shit off Wurst, these are your friends! I don't have to prove anything to these comics, we're all showing up to the same mic. Charles Disney was just saying how we ask questions that we want to be asked in return,

"You got any cool gigs coming up? No? NOW ASK ME IF I HAVE ANY COOL GIGS! THANK YOU, I DO! SLEEPAWAY CAMP BABY-MARGARET CHO HEADLINING! ENJOY YOUR SHOW AT P.F. CHANG'S, YA ASIAN FUSION COMIC! "

There's usually 4-5 standard questions (How you doing, got anything coming up, you hitting another mic after this, you ever go to Marty's?) and if there's no conversation beyond that, we're not really friends. It's just surface level pleasantries for insecure comics.

Then there are just genuinely great dudes like Spencer Kalendar, who's never putting on airs and makes me feel like I can just be myself. I think the very first thing he said to me was,

"Coming up right now, I hope he brings his...BEST material, uhhh, MARTY WURST MUCH?"

After bombing this particular set at the Silverlake Lounge, the host added,

"Marty Wurst...he has the secret to comedy, being loud."

That got a big laugh of course and nothing felt worse than some cheap shot after I already bombed. Everyone there hated me. It was like high school all over again. I'd go to these mics and sure, I sucked, but it struck me that the same group of stuffy assholes were laughing at each other's sets no matter how lousy their jokes were.

Self-deprecating comment (laughter). Fuck my life! (laughter) I should probably just kill myself (laughter, clapping). I don't even want to do comedy tonight...(standing ovation, ticker-tape parade, group orgy ensues).

Then I'd go up and just... nothing. Crickets puking.

I started off in 2013 with an adventurous spirit, where I was willing to try characters and bizarre bits on stage, but the constant bombing made me shy away- plus comedians I looked up to were always insisting, "You have to make it personal."

I've always resisted that. Why can't I just be goofy and absurd?

Nobody was buying it. They saw through my lies and I couldn't sell it, that's why.

I was determined to hit mics, though. Once I spent 5 hours on public transportation for a whopping 7 minutes of stage time. I must've been out of my fucking mind. One night I missed the last bus and was stuck in Hollywood, so I just wandered around for a few hours until I could take the train back to Long Beach the next morning. I wanted to hang out at The Comedy Store until 2 a.m., but I couldn't miss that last train!

I didn't mind taking the Blue Line up to Hollywood at first. I could read, listen to podcasts, work on jokes, and not worry about traffic. 90 minute trip. Honestly, I was afraid to start driving again, but Claire eventually persuaded me to take her car, for safety's sake. There were a couple of late nights where some drunken assholes tried to mess with me on the train and I finally said fuck public transportation. It's not worth it.

The first year I hit 88 mics. The second year was closer to 200, which is still nothing compared to what most comics do in my circle. I tried to hit 4 to 8 mics a week and anything under that felt lazy. I would get moody and depressed. Sometimes I'd be out of town for the holidays and I'd be lucky to get one mic in, it was something, but then a week would go by and it'd feel like starting over again.

Explaining this process to my family always came off apologetic. It's hard for anyone outside of comedy to understand that you have to go up almost daily. I sure as hell didn't know. The fact that I was barely getting booked must've seemed like a spectacular failure to them. It still feels bad. I can't really brag about going up in bars and coffee shops. The whole bringer show fantasy was gone and now it was time to put in the actual work.

Sept. 2014, Jeanne Whitney and I took a short jaunt to San Diego for a gig at the Second Wind Bar on Navajo Road. It was my first taste of taking a drive with a friend and doing a show more than an hour away.

The Second Wind Bar (which has since closed down) was an ugly little dive bar with a pretty good stage, but hey- a show! Plus, they brought in a giant pizza- we're getting paid! The dude who put us up on the show was nice enough and the place definitely had some colorful customers.

Funny how we were just a couple of hours away and the place felt like a total redneck bar in middle America. A couple of loud, drunken ladies were trying to size me up and had a few questions about my act:

"Are you going to do jokes about Mexicans?"

"Nah, nothing like that. Just goofy stuff."

"Are you going to do jokes about Asians, like how they're bad drivers?"

"No.'

The second hag-in-command got excited,

"You should, because it's actually true. I had one cut me off on the way here! Asians can't drive!"

"I KNOW," first hag interrupted, "You're going to do jokes about JEWS."

"Probably," I said.

The way she said it, too, "JEWHOOOOS," made it particularly offensive, but at least she was enthusiastic about a comedy show. Now that there was the possibility of a racist act, the ladies would probably stick around. They might even throw out some extra tags or slurs.

I should've opened with, "So a Mexican, an Asian, and a JEWHOOO walk into a bar..."

A phone went off during my set, but other than that, the ladies were surprisingly cooperative. Maybe they couldn't handle the suspense.

When is he gonna say what I'm thinking? Here it comes...wait for it...maybe he forgot, I'll help him! (mouthing the word) jeh-whooooooo.

They tore into Jeanne instead. Jeanne fought back and was really funny--I wish I had recorded that set!

Then there was the Kill Tony show in The Belly Room. I'd tried to get up for weeks and listened to the podcast a lot. It's a crazy, wickedly funny, and occasionally maddening experience. The hosts are so mean-spirited and for some reason I still wanted to do it. The guests were a huge part of the appeal: They've had Moshe Kasher, Bill Burr, Sarah Silverman, Doug Benson, Roddy Piper, Ian Edwards--it was pretty impressive.

Comics are picked randomly out of a bucket, then they perform 1 minute of standup in front of the hosts and a couple of guest comedians. Then there's a post interview that usually involves a lot of cheap shots and ridicule at the amateur's expense. There's rarely any constructive criticism, but it does make for an entertaining show. Tony Hinchcliffe is the snarky and quick-witted host, Brian Redban is the sleazy sidekick, and there's an audience of Neanderthals that gobble up juvenile behavior. Plus, you got a guy in an Iron Patriot costume standing there for the whole show. He was sort of the show's perverted mascot. The original guy was fired, so various comedians were subbing inside a cheaper get-up.

I used to see the original Iron Patriot character standing on the bus and holding onto the rail because he couldn't sit down in that expensive suit.

During the show, I hung out in the green room and would just hover in the hall when they were calling up the next guy. They only get 5 to 6 people up each episode, and I was so used to not getting up. It was one of those nights when I started to regret signing up altogether and kind of hoped I'd be passed by again. Jamar Neighbors and Brian Moses were the guest hosts--I barely knew those guys and couldn't care less. Eccentric comedian Mugzilla had just stormed out of the room. He went after Jamar Neighbors for being a paid regular and then threw the mic down, marching off in a huff. Eddie Whitehead Jr. followed him, doing his Samuel L. Jackson schtick and then plugging his documentary on Youtube. Then I was called.

I hurried out of the green room and was completely out of breath during my entire set. I sucked hard, the material was dumb, and the interview that followed is what temporarily destroyed me. I'm a sensitive guy and not cut out for The Comedy Store's frat-boy behavior. I've always been the pussy.

They took it easy on me by the end, but the damage was done. Like Tony said, I was about to cry--I felt like shit. I kept doing these stupid bits and everyone would take it as an insult to their intelligence. I felt misunderstood and they had basically told me to quit. My voice alone seemed to infuriate Moses.

You gotta build your armor Wurst, they tare you down to make you stronger.

Are you serious? So you only thrive at the Store if you're a fucking bully?

Anyway, it was a painful lesson. I didn't grow up with a bunch of friends constantly ribbing me at school. I'm not used to being called a pedophile for entertainment purposes. It wasn't a joke at my expense, it was just punishment. My material was that annoying to them.

Somehow I made one friend on Twitter.

I'd done The Laugh Factory "audition/open mic" a few times. The owner Jamie Masada was there on my second try, but I got passed over. The process got old pretty quick and it seemed like the serious comedians I knew were avoiding that place anyway. It makes me feel good to know that Jamie had to sit through my armpit farts. TOO CONCEPTUAL, JAMIE? DID THAT ONE GO OVER YOUR HEAD?

I was really gunning for a showcase, taking schoolyard behavior to the stage. I would forget about The Laugh Factory for months and then go back with no expectations.

Bombing at The Comedy Store potluck for the first time was exhilarating. That room is pure magic. Unlike the Laugh Factory, that club never felt like a waste of time.

You sign up at 6 p.m. with 50+ comics and wait until 6:45 for the list to be posted. It's a long shot; a combination of new names that pop out, friends of the hosts, and maybe a couple of randoms. I'd hear comics grumble over and over that it's rigged, but I brought a buddy who just started standup and he was picked the first time he signed up, so you never know.

Anyway, on December 1, 2014, they posted the list and Brandon Brickz called it out,

"Marty Wurst!"

(sings) I've got the gol-den ti-cketttt!

It really was exciting. Plus Jeremiah Watkins was hosting, who I sort of knew.

You talk to comics about the Original Room and I'm sure they'll say the same thing. There's so much history, it's got the perfect stage, perfect lighting, and the whole room is painted black, so everyone is focused on the performer. It's also the most deadly when you bomb.

I bombed for 3 minutes and Jeremiah was merciful on my exit.

"Guys, he had stage presence, he had character work... should've given a little bit more than that."

The performance sucked for a number of reasons, but I finally did it.

I'd had a good set on this stage before, but it was a bringer show. The potluck open mic actually meant something. I was finally a comedian. A shitty one, but I'd been coming for months and I finally got my 3 minutes. It felt like an honest failure. Many more to come.

I get caught up in the gossip. Shitting on comedians that I barely know. I'm trying to stop that. Early on, I was one those guys that would say something negative because I was trying to start a dialogue and reinforce any negative feelings I had about someone. Usually based in nothing; maybe one lousy first impression or through the grapevine on Facebook. Unfortunately, talking shit is a major way to bond with other inexperienced comics. A lot of miserable, sarcastic, unmotivated, boring comics. Or 10+ year comics that bitch about how unfair everything is. They can't talk to you for 30 seconds without shitting on something.

Now I know that's not me. I never feel good about it and it never helps.

The comics I look up to are modest, rarely say anything bad about anyone because they're just focused. They don't feed the fire. I'd rant about something and they wouldn't have anything to add to it. Maybe something along the lines of,

"Yeah, that can happen," kind of response.

I'd see the look on their face. I'm the problem.

I was the same way in Junior High. Picking on the popular kids and being obnoxious because I was so desperate to be a part of their circle. Afraid to be myself. Afraid to put in that kind of work.

I'll be obsessed with some idiot for hours on a Facebook thread, so tempted to participate in the attack, but where is it going to get me? Fuck, I could've written something. I should be writing jokes now, but I think I know something about blogging and comedy! I feel like I'm just regurgitating boring opinions that have been voiced on hundreds of podcasts already, I'll try to pepper this section up! Check out this sweet ass pimp kitty vest!

 I always want to prove myself to other comics. An audience of strangers is always amazing, but I do feel the pressure of an all-comic mic. It's way too important to me. I don't want to be written off, I know I can be funny. Maybe not the last 20 times you saw me, but I'll get there, don't write me off!

When I had a decent set in front of someone I respected, I felt like I could check that off. Okay, that person doesn't think I'm a piece of shit anymore. I proved myself. Getting closer to being an actual comic! Every good set is a stepping stone. My bad sets would just temporarily render me useless. Instead of doing my homework and adjusting, I would just write something new or beat a bad joke into the ground. Maybe it'll work the 27th time.

"The people that go to Burning Man only need these two words to communicate: Burning...man!"

*crickets slashing wrists*

I bombed in front of Sean Conroy and took it kind of hard. Intimidating dude, (like the Ron Perlman of improvisation) he was sitting in the front row at Echoes Under Sunset with his arms crossed, waiting for his set and just watching me hang myself. He'd probably seen a thousand variations of the heckler character I was doing. I picked on him in character, but he wouldn't roll with it. Why would he? It was more fun to watch me squirm.

Every time I asked him a question he would answer,

"Sure."

Which is sort of the "fuck you" version of "yes and,"  It's an improv thing.

I was berating the audience for being a bunch of hipsters. Yelling out,

"Well I got something for ALL OF YOU!"

Then I started handing out free coffee coupons from a local coffee shop. Sean politely declined.

I had my bombing routine where I would call up Claire afterwards and tell her I just ate shit. Or who I ate shit in front of. She would convince me that it was okay, everybody bombs, and remind me that I'd had good sets before. She would tell me that she loved me and make me feel better about what had happened. Oh, there is life after tomorrow, I forgot! Thanks, baby!

Claire understands the grind. She's a fan of a lot of the people I look up to and we listen to a lot of the same podcasts now. She got into Jen Kirkman and The Longshot Podcast early on and now she subscribes to more comedians than I do. We went to Power Violence and a number of shows at The Improv. Pete Holmes, Todd Glass, Ron Lynch, Eddie Pepitone, Maron, Sebastian, Ian Edwards, and Tig- we love Tig. She pushed me to go on the road. She encouraged me to stop using the train and take her car instead. She makes this all possible. It's unbelievable. She even made cookies when I produced my own show.

I'd done a couple of shows at The Lexington with Tony Bartolone where I did some character stuff. I played a wrestler, a heckler that takes on Mr. Goodnight and a squarish Steve Allen type talk show host. Anyway, the owner liked me enough and said if I ever wanted to use the space, hit him up.

Tony was nice enough to help me too, he ran sound for me. Uggh, I didn't even give him a fucking spot and he ran sound for me- that's how great a guy he is and how SELFISH I can be.

 I think the best thing in comedy after doing standup is booking your own show. Reaching for the stars, pulling in friends, what a great position to be in! Compiling a fantasy list of mostly male comics and shooting them a message on Facebook.

So if you're a new comic wondering, how the hell do I get booked on a show?

Well, a moron like me could accidentally see you at an open mic and then end up liking you! And I'm the guy who did a shitty set before you, remember? You never know who could be running shows.

Most people got back to me pretty quick. Comedians love a full calendar. 

I adored The Walsh Brothers. So original and twisted. They blew my mind at TigerLily and I finally met the guys through a mutual friend.

Brian Scolaro was someone I had talked to outside of The Comedy Store. He's one of the first comics to give me any kind of advice,

"Don't move To Long Beach."

I was a fanboy of Dean Delray. I heard Matty Goldberg on Danny Lobell's podcast and dug his book about his friendship with Angelo Bowers. Ron Babcock was one of the friendly guys on the scene, loved his standup. I'd worked on a webseries with Paul Danke. Just met a lot of the other comics at open mics. I worked with Jeanne Whitney at Arclight Hollywood and we started standup around the same time. I watched Timika Hall do her first set at Echoes Under Sunset and she was great! Ester Steinberg cracked me up at The Palace and then I wanted to book her after I saw this sketch. She just happened to be hanging out with Neel Nanda when I was booking him, so I got both of them right then and there.

Robert Vertrees was brand new like me, but I just dug his story.

I knew I'd never have to worry about Ken Garr.

Just read his awesome blog entry "One Year Later and Why I Should Quit"

I should've taken note and made my blog shorter! That dude is a complete professional and will never hesitate to give you his tour dates at the MGM in Las Vegas.

Jak Knight was edgy and exciting. Jon Durnell was the best thing about a bringer show I did at the Formosa. I didn't even know Lisa Landry, but Brian asked if she could be on. Same thing with Kevin James Moore, a buddy of Matty's.

  Maagic Collins is one of the kindest souls I've ever met. I love his standup. He would show up to my afternoon Tribal mic on Saturdays. Very supportive guy.

I think I saw Rick Wood at Power Violence and he just blew me away.

Anyway, you get the fucking point, this was just an excuse to drop everyone's links. Jesus Christ.

One time I made the amateur mistake of messaging too many people at once and then having to tell one comic I'd put them on the next show. I got a lot of grief for that and I was pulling my hair out. I was getting a guilt trip from the disappointed comic and now I didn't want to book him at all. It was totally my fault, but I was just getting through the learning curve. Book carefully, and wait for your damn responses.

Another recurring thing that kept coming up is a comic wanting to bring a friend for a guest spot. It's a good rule of thumb to keep a spot open for a possible drop-in. Or just book less comics Marty. Aren't you glad you paid $200 for this helpful comedy workshop tip?

I was also planning on doing all these wacky sketches and transitions that had nothing to do with the stand-up comedy. I wanted to make it an event. I asked Chris Walsh if we could have an extended dialogue where the Walsh Brothers get in an argument with me and then pretend to shoot me from the audience...so now I'm suddenly on the level of The Walsh Brothers! Proposing bits. Chris was really nice about it and declined in the best way possible. He made me realize that I should only work on the hosting- not all this extra dressing. I'd be stressed out enough. Plus, The Walsh Brothers have their own thing going on and it's hilarious.

Claire helped me with some basic PR stuff; shooting out emails to various websites with LA calendars of events. Lot of people check online for free entertainment. I hit up LA Weekly early enough to get this delightful blip:

Did I pay anyone? I paid Dean Delray. I paid Brian Scolaro. It seems a little unfair now, I had The Walsh Brothers, Ron Babcock, Paul Danke, and Matty Goldberg, who all have a shitload of experience.

I got this dumb idea that I should write thank you notes to everyone else. Looking back, I gave comedians false hope of money in those envelopes, only to find a badly scrawled "thank you" with some shitty stick figure doodles. At least there were cookies at the gig.

Brian mentioned the 50 bucks onstage and I was really embarrassed. It exposed the inner-workings of my inexperience and that I was holding out on everyone else. I think I would do it differently now, but it was a free show.

Tony watched me have a mini-meltdown. I was stressing out because there was a band that was booked on a show immediately after and it was clear that I was going to run over their time. I thought if I gave up my own set and kept bringing the next comic up, we'd finish on time without cutting anyone's sets down.

Tony explained to me that I shouldn't of worried about that, that it was worse to bring the comics up cold. It's better to keep the audience warmed up, but I was hopping back on stage saying,

"Give it up for Ron Babcock, and now let's keep it moving- Matty Goldberg!"

I didn't get it. I thought running over my time would fuck things up and I'd never get to do a show again. I shouldn't of booked so many comics anyway- Paul Danke was going on dead last, and he'd been waiting around so long, I felt horrible. I should buy his album.

So don't sacrifice your time for the sake of the next show- be a good host, Wurst.

But that first show had a great turnout, especially for The Lexington. The comics were kind of impressed. That extra leg work paid off.

I remember I wanted to bring Dean Delray up to a Led Zeppelin song and I kept bothering Tony about it when the order changed. Then when the music came up, Dean was clearly stoked and that little moment meant a lot to me.

On his way out he yelled,

"Congratulations on your 1st year of stand up!"

Speaking of which, I asked Melina Paez if I could be in her "DropTheSoapTV" series, where comics do stand-up in her shower. It was a fun way to cap off my first year.

Okay, that was rather manic. Just a couple steps away from Denis Leary- uggh. Anyway, I STOPPED doing that. Here's a message to myself as I time-travel back to the shower,

Horrible jokes, asshole! Your taint is hilarious by the way.

I just want to thank the people that encouraged me or gave me useful information when I started bumbling my way through open mics that first year (July 2013-2014)

Brett Gilbert, Ric Rosario, Matty Goldberg, Tony Bartolone, Jason Van Glass, Ron Babcock, Dean Delray, Chris Walsh, Matt Walsh, Danny Lobell, Mollie Gross, Melina Paez, Brian Scolaro, Jamie Flam, Jeremiah Watkins, Mike Celestino, Justin Alexio, Neel Nanda, Mikey de Lara, Paul Danke, Ari Mannis, Lydia Robinson, Ryan Doolittle, Maagic Collins, Don Barris, Elissa Rosenthal, Rob Antus, K-von, Jarrett and Emily Galante, Christiane Georgi, Hiro Matsunaga, Greg James, Carly Craig, Matthew Hilton, Sally Mullins, Matt Sauter, Matt Gamarra, Donald McKinney, Ryan Kain, Jeremy Fultz, Del Weston, Derick Armijo, Alisha Morine, Nicole Malina, Devon Schwartz, Andy Salamone, Barbara Gray, Sean Conroy, Myles Weber, Ricky Winston, Frankie Ma, Rishi Arya, Brandon Birckz, Sean K., Mike Menendez, Jamar Neighbors, Mr. Goodnight, Erica Rhodes, Matt Champagne, David Gerhardt, The Martin Duprass, John Silver, Ryan Pfeiffer, Kevin Anderson, Whitney Melton, Kym Kral, Jared Levin, Kenneth Lion, Alex Croll, Adam Carr, Trevor James, Deon Williams, Amber Brashear, Pat Regan, Brad Silnutzer, Rob Weissman, Marty, Graham Curan, Eddie Pepitone, Quincy Johnson, Blythe Metz, Willie Dynamite, Freddy Morales, Marcela Perdomo, Nick Kaufman, Atelston Fitgerald Holder The 1st, Bruce Boiman, Tom Allen, Melissa Villasenor, Maria Bamford, Todd Glass, Lou Perez, Allison Anders, Jeremy Bassett, Tony Alfieri, Laura Niles, Tamoy Sherman, Chaliss Robinson, Eddie Whitehead Jr, Brent Weinbach, Jill Maragos, Jodi Miller, Luz Pazos, Brianna Murphy, Sasha Kapustina, Alain Villenueve, Brad James, Lauren Kiang, Yoav, Ken Garr, David Gregorian, Jordan Leer, Stefano Della Pietra, Down Under Comedy Club, Mike Garrison, Brad and Sara Harris, Thomas Hussey, Harold, Chino, Tiffany Gomes, Simon Gibson, Joe Wagner, Scott Luhrs, Jay Weingarten, Joe Kardon, Pedro Salinas, Willie Dynamite, Robert Vertrees, Amber Kenny, Karah Britton, Alison Tafel, David Hill, Andy Kosec, Micah Lile, Chris Putro, Kris Rubio, Jade Thom, Brodie Reed, Ryan Talmo, Kevin Lee, Kellie Ann, Jeanne Whitney, Jake Kroeger, Nikki Riordan, Tim Mars, Christian Chavez, Jake Adams, Louise Hung, Michael Donato, my Geffen peeps, all my Arclight friends, Stella friends, childhood friends and family that came out to support.

Or if you're just generally nice to me thanks. You gave me the strength to go out and bomb one more time.

Shout out to Mike Celestino's great documentary "That's Not Funny".

and finally To Claire:

For every time I called you up to moan out my discontent, only to be dissuaded from my stubborn misery because of your constant light, love, and gentle reasoning.

For those open mics you'll never be able to unsee.

I love you more than open mic comedians love pussy jokes.

thanks! this site has a lot of good wallpapers.

ahhh tough question! I'm torn between 2. I want to have my own personal You Made It Weird and sit down with Pete Holmes.. talk about all the usual life topics. But I also really would like to hang out with Todd Glass and laugh about silly stuff while also discussing some of the seriously fucked up shit in the universe.