Thursday, September 9, 2010

Got Balls? (Part 3)

I was standing in the back of the room, unable to think straight, when the woman running the place came over and told

me we were starting in a few minutes. She said the audience was packed with high school wrestling parents. They were having a benefit at the club that night. She wanted me to talk them up. Immediately a joke popped into my head about wrestlers, but I was questioning myself. Am I funny? Is that a good joke, or will it be insulting? Should I say that? Second guessing yourself equals death.

I was interrupted by the Headliner who started to give me advice. It was similar to the Middle’s advice about being myself. I nodded my head and said, “Thanks.” But all I wanted to do was run. I needed to get it together.There was a minute to spare, so I ran into the bathroom. I locked the door and gave myself the "bathroom chat." I looked

at myself in the mirror and said out loud, “You are funny. Fuck last night. You can do this.” Then whenever I talk to myself in a mirror, it makes me laugh, so I started laughing. I heard the music playing, and I ran out.

I was introduced, and I ran up on stage. I stopped thinking about my tight jeans, the old bastard, last night, everything. All I could focus on was the crowd. The energy was amazing. The place was packed. These people had come for a show. I grabbed the mike. And I decided to go for it.

I said, “I’m your MC tonight. I heard there are some parents in the audience.” They clapped. “And your kids are wrestlers?” They clapped and cheered. It was about half the audience of probably 200 people. I said, “You must be so proud of your sons...those anorexic faggots.” The audience exploded. “They’re always spitting in a cup, trying to make weight. Popping boners the entire match. This is a sport? I’m so sorry your sons wrestle. How upsetting for you.” More laughs.

It was a good show for me. I could’ve read the dictionary, and they would’ve stayed with me. Once they like you, they’re yours. After I got off stage, the energy was high. I set up the other two comics for success. That’s the MC’s job, and I had done what I needed to do. The other two comics killed. The show was amazing. It was just what I needed.

When the show was done, I was getting my stuff together to leave. The Middle and Headliner came over to me. The Middle said, “I couldn’t believe when you said that thing about the wrestlers. I died laughing.” The Headliner agreed, “I don’t know if I would’ve said that. Nice job up there. You’ve got balls.”

The woman running the club had complimented my job, and that made me happy because I knew my manager would get a good report. But compliments from comics are scarce. They meant more to me. I wanted to hug both of them. I wanted to tell them about what happened the night before. I wanted to tell them how relieved I was that it had gone over, and that I had a good show. But I didn’t know these guys, and we were talking about balls now. So I smiled and said, “Thanks. See ya around.” And me and my new set of very big balls walked out, happy to be back.


  1. Got Balls? I would have to say the answer is a resounding YES!!!...good for you! What a way to make up for the night before huh?

    (What in the hell is that guy doing in that pic? Is he really sniffing his funky azz shoe???)

  2. Brava, brava! I'm sitting here at my laptop hysterical. Very funny stuff, Miss Thing!

  3. Oh, YAY! Honey, I'd hang on to those tight jeans. If they can show off some big cajones in guys, who says they can't do the same for little 'ole you??

    YOU ROCK! I'm THRILLED for this happy ending...and an hysterical one at that!