Mic 38 : Punching Back

Venue: 5 O’ Clock

Host: Big Rich Greene, Bek  and  Tyrone Gaines 

Show: Monday Night Wrong

Set Time:  5 Minute

I bombed at One Star tonight. Crickets. It is all in the Mic 37 so check it out but I will not relive it here.

So now I am at 5 O'Clock trying to figure out how I feel. Unpacking the material and my thoughts. More than anything I am struggling to decide what to talk about next. Tonight, like in a few minutes. 

I am thinking of new stuff to perform. Reliving the embarrassment of the material, not the reaction, the material.

I raised two daughters, there is no humility that can compare. So I don't mind that people didn't laugh. I minded that there is a limit to what I can do. I am still reeling in that epiphany.

The 5 O'clock has a curved bar with probably 25 stools. It is deep behind it, with one bartender. On Monday's the stools are filled with comedians catching up, writing jokes, waiting to go next or avoiding comedians they don't want to listen to.

It's early, so I am with the recently arrived, close to on time group and so I order a drink, take a seat and tell another comedian that I just don't feel all that bad about the set that I just bombed at. 

My comedy is the confidence I have on stage.

So I sat at the bar thinking of what to talk about and reveling in my newfound awareness.

I had nothing.

I really couldn't think of anything to talk about.

And that isn't always good.

Sometimes I can get up on stage and resurrect something from the past or pivot to the vibe in the room.

But honestly, tonight I was out of sorts.

I want my brain to move on but it is captivated by the fact that I couldn't pull off a set because I was vulnerable.

I resigned myself to work on the set I am doing for a guest appearance coming up.

Good plan. 

Sigh of relief. 

I am getting to do some minutes for the Rock Comedy Show. A new production that is in three states and growing. So, I thought I would use tonight's stage to work on the material for the show.

Open mics are about working material out.

Sometimes it's new material, sometimes it is timing, sometimes it is a set you have been doing but it could be better.

So open mics give you a space to practice. So that was my plan.

However, as I sat in the audience, I was greeted with a parade of comedians talking about women in the worst way possible. The host opened that mic calling women whores. The hair on the back of my neck rose to attention.

I think he recently broke up with a woman and as is with many comedians I see, he brings all of it to the stage. The frustration, the regret, the anger and then pokes fun at all of it to get a laugh.

Relationships and women were the topic of the night and the comments and stories were about who left, who was crazy, what we don't like about women and if one had no context or empathy you would think this, He-Man Woman Haters Club was swearing off the opposite sex forever.

They weren't. They would never. It was a room of mostly men and so they were laughing, they were even encouraging each other. I just didn't have the taste for this tonight, not that I ever do but tonight, I was just over it.

I was standing in the back of the room next to a comedian who just always makes me laugh. We are leaning against the pool table in the back of the room, shoulder to shoulder, close enough to whisper. Andre Myrie.

He and I have a good rapport. I am the prudish white suburban woman with a brain and he is the frustrated young Jamaican with an axe to grind and something to say.

Andre and I are doing color commentary from the back of the room. Him and I were watching this unfold on the stage and whispering jokes back and forth. Like the aliens in Mystery Science Theater.

When I finally took the stage, I fought back. Pulling out material from earlier mics and freshening it up for the crowd.

I started by asking if they ever wondered what their mothers thought about these jokes.

From the audience comments flew to the stage. A young man in the front row, whose mom thinks he's a good boy, shouted out that she's begging him to tell a clean joke so I can share it with my friends.

I reminded them that I was a mother and when I hear jokes like, how should I say this.

Jokes about a man  making themselves happy, spending time with himself, pleasuring himself. I am immediately disappointed.

Delegate.

Find someone to do that for you.

Did I teach you nothing?

I moved on to talking about a term I just learned: Raw dog.

Raw dog means unprotected.

Sometimes we shouldn't change terms and make them cooler. Unprotected is scary and it should be.

Help me here.

If your penis is your most prized possession why don't you take care of it?

You told me women are whores.

Why aren't you protecting yourself against us.

For the love of God, you take better care of your cars.

I have seen you park your cars at the end of the parking lot so they don't get scratched. Yet you will park your winky in anyone's garage.

You worry your shoes will get scuffed.

But you don't protect the most valued possession.

I leaned over to the young man in the front row, who had the Ted talk about self-pleasure and said:

I know you moisturize so it's important to you.

I ended the set with a PSA announcement, suggesting that men try harder, wash their khakis, take a shower, and leave the baseball cap at home. Maybe don't go on stage bitching about the one thing, other than your winky, you have an interest in.

It is funny to me that I cannot talk about the things that go on in the bathroom, normal things, things we all go through, but somehow the grown woman in me can poke at the ridiculousness of men and their attraction to women yet they climb on a stage and insult them. The dichotomy is fascinating and I will be unpacking it for days.

I do know this, raw dog, unprotected, Missy Hayes is funny, she just needs to remember that she is of good upbringing and some things are off limits for a reason.