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This Half-Assed Hustle (compiled truths and occasional fiction)

2:25pm

Driving up to Los Angeles with my Spotify playlist on shuffle. Some day I would like to be driving a car full of comics, singing along to Lady Marmalade as we drive 100 miles to our next gig.

3:21pm

I have to piss so bad. I gotta get out of this fucking car. Adjusting my seat to find any angle that gives my bladder even the slightest relief. You can't pull a Dumb and Dumber in your girlfriend's car, you're not pissing into that bottle.

3:40pm

Park at Amoeba Music and then walk over to Arclight Hollywood. I haven't seen a movie here in years, but I'll happily take a piss any chance I get. The dome is especially good for taking a dump- best bathroom in Hollywood. Its been 10 years since I quit and I still have a couple of friends that work here. Amazing.

3:47pm

Go through hundreds of "As Is" used DVDs, prices ranging from $1.99-7:99. I'm gradually buying back my old collection- this was my addiction for awhile. I've bought and sold and repurchased DVDs from this place dozens and dozens of times. Losing money every time. Like when I first moved to LA and didn't have a checking account, so I'd go to one of those Check Cashing places and they'd take a huge chunk. I've perfected so many ways of losing money. Some comedian said, "I'm the Michael Jordan of overdraft fees." I think most comedians could've written that.

5:10pm

Meltdown Comics

Sign my name on the scrap of paper and throw it in the lunch pail. I see a comic that I want to say hi to, but I'm too worried he's going to think I'm kissing up to be on his show. Forced conversation might raise suspicions. He's kind of goofy like I am. In the end, I shy away. We give mutual nods of acknowledgement instead. I've made attempts in the past, but it never lasts past a couple of pleasantries. Goddammit, why do I act like it's a fucking audition, just relax.

5:20pm

The room is starting to fill up. People are smoking out back. I have a few exchanges with other male comics. Majority of comedians in Los Angeles are familiar with this dialogue:

"You going to the Store next?"

"Nah, I'm gonna bounce to Marty's or Pig N Whistle. You?"

"If I don't get up at the Store I'll go down to The Improv Space."

"Cool, cool."

It's all hollow and predictable, but I say these things all the time. Where you coming from? Where you bouncing to next? Is that a good mic? How many minutes? You got anything coming up?

If I find out the person I'm talking to was booked on a cool show I'll get a little pissed off. It'll show on my face too, I'm an incredibly bad liar. It's completely insane, it doesn't even matter if I genuinely like the person, I'll still feel a flash of jealousy. It's involuntary at this point, I've programmed myself to be competitive against everyone because everyone is doing things that I'm not.

Then I remind myself that I'm not very good yet. I don't have to be everywhere, Jesus. Get good and then worry about that shit!

Awkward hug. Forgot that person's name.

5:35pm

One of two hosts calls out my name for the 20th spot. Shit. I probably can't do The Store and then bounce back and make it work, so I guess I'll just be here. Some of the other guys know how to flip-flop to multiple places, but I haven't figured it out yet. It's a little disheartening when 3/4 of the room clears out and there's less than ten people in the audience.

6:20pm

Still waiting around. They worked in some of the more established comics into the line up, which drags things out. Still burns my ass when someone drops in for five minutes and then they're gone in a flash. Must be nice.

I step outside and I have a conversation with Jeff for a bit. He talks my ear off about surface level comedy shit and keeps asking me questions. It's irritating because he immediately looks down at his phone when I start to answer and then he asks me again. It all feels out of obligation and reinforces my fear of losing my own personality someday; where I become an automatic networking robot of a comic that vomits out the same line of bullshit over and over. Never connecting with people, only advertising, advertising, posting, tweeting, and screaming at all the other comics, HEY- HERE"S WHAT I'M DOING- HERE I AM! PICTURE OF ME AT SHOW. PICTURE OF ME HAVING ACCOMPLISHED THIS THING. PICTURE OF ME POSING WITH BETTER COMIC THAT SHOULD HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH ME!

7:10pm

I'm on stage and only half way through a joke when the realization that I'm bombing stifles the little energy that I have. I feel myself trailing off and force myself to finish. It's painful. I even got a fake laugh, which is worse than silence because it probably came from another comic. I'm supposed to listen to this set on my phone later to find out where I went wrong. How about when I got on the stage?

7:15pm

I'm scrolling through other open mic options on The Comedy Bureau. I really just want to go home. I don't want to pay $5 for a mic I can't stand, or a 1-drink minimum when I don't want to drink. I mean, I could get a soda, but when I'm at a bar I just gravitate towards beer. Why do I keep going to these 3 minute mics and waste my time with tried and failed material? Where's the progress Wurst?

By the time I decide on one, it'll be too late for me to get there in time. I suppose I could pop into Tribal and see what's happening. A nostalgic stop that probably won't do much for my mood, but I already bombed once anyway.

The romantic side of me wants to spend the remainder of my monthly allowance on a Reuben sandwich at Canters. Write jokes with coffee and a sandwich. Then worry about money later. But would you really write anything?

I like to bottom out. When I have a little money, I quickly burn through it almost to get it over with, embracing the inevitable. Then I hit zero and it's a reset button. I get help from my Dad, or I occasionally land some random gig with filming or editing. The audiobooks were completely unrealistic; I basically donated a few hundred work hours and barely made anything. I'll work my ass off on projects that make little to no return. I go after the impossible each time. Acting, filming, now comedy and audiobooks, why does anyone continue to support me?

7:26pm

I have Claire on the phone. She says I'm not a piece of shit. I was trying to convince her otherwise, but she knows my self-esteem is just low, because I bombed and now I'm just trying to bear-hug all the negative things that I can. I am a good person. I'm just incredibly stupid.

She says I'm not stupid. She says that I'm kind and generous. I finally give in and tell her I love her. I tell her there's a chance I'm going to hit one more mic. She asks me to text her when I'm heading home.

7:40pm

Sitting in the car, thinking I should've signed up at Anchor Bar for a late spot. That would've been perfect. Just get the fuck out of LA, you're burned out on this side. Maybe I could visit an old friend while I'm up here. I could go back to Amoeba and get that Kung-Fu movie for four bucks. Go home and eat that can of black beans and not spend another dime. Do mics in Long Beach the next week without spending anything.

I could easily make it to Mel's or Big Wangs later. The list at Tribal could be a mile long- plus I think you're supposed to order a sandwich now. Their food is good but their service sucks.

7:49pm

Hit the library just before it closed. A little inspiration might help! Autobiographies from Sarah Silverman, David Spade, and Bernie Mac! Plus a book about Cult Films and Facts I Should Know- warm up the brain matter, possible premises. I love walking out with a shitload of books!

9:30pm

Who calls it a night when comedy is just starting? This guy!

Claire is still up and our fatty kitty Tune is sitting an inch from her face, her paws propped up on her favorite human's chest. She's in purr mode, but when I get close she briefly sniffs my face for identification. I check out.

Sometimes it's not the number of mics I hit. I hit a wall tonight and needed an out. I need to cut myself a break. So many people are working harder than me and I know it. What's it going to take man?

 

 

 

 

My First and Worst Year Doing Stand-Up Comedy: Westwood BREWCO and Onward

3 years in. This is a rundown of some of my favorite things and most cringe-worthy moments that happened in my stand-up journey so far. It's a list to remind myself because I don't want to forget. Even the stuff I wish I could, like when the host cut the mic on me 3 minutes into a ten minute set because I said "cock." 

I'm not a great writer, so I apologize if this style is hard on the eyes. I'll try to get my girlfriend Claire to proof-read it later. Maybe you can recommend a background color that's easier on the eyes. I'll try to include a lot of pictures and clickable links whenever I reference a particular open mic or venue, so you can see what these places look like.

In 2013 I told myself I'd give stand-up comedy a year and then decide if I wanted to continue. It wasn't so much a bucket-list, but a personal goal because I'd been doing comedy in different forms for a number of years. Plus I felt like my soul had bottomed out after a nasty break up and I think I was just trying to go balls out on something new and exciting.

I was listening to comedy podcasts, I started dating Claire and I saw a great show with her at the Improv with Jen Kirkman and Eddie Pepitone. I think the excitement of the possibility was building in my head. I tried to convince my friend Matt to start with me, but he went his own way. It was one of those weak pacts like,

"Hey man, you want to fast for 7 days?"

And then by the end of day one,

"Hey man, you want to hit Del Taco and split a chocolate cake?"

1. I went to Westwood BrewCo's final open mic, which was a long-running, highly regarded place run by Vance Sanders and Robert Yasumura, who were worshipped. Many great comedians had honed their craft there- it was a place that was serious about comedy. That night was more of a somber farewell with guest drop-ins. I was a total outsider and didn't know any comedians yet, but I worked just around the corner at the Geffen Playhouse. I got the idea that I was going to cause a stir- make an undeniable first impression. I was going to do something CRAZY.

If I got called up, the plan was to perform Robert Yasumura's material AS Robert Yasumura, as a sly nod, but mostly because it was a cocky thing to do and I could sort of mock him at the same time. We're talking a highly respected comedian, not to mention one of the FOUNDERS of BREWCO. Real dickhead plan, Marty, Good on you. Totally shitting on the event because I thought I had to go in STRONG!

I studied his routine for 30 minutes and convinced myself that I was ready. I honestly thought that everyone would love it. Oh man, he's doing Robert's material- that's so funny!

The merciful comedy gods were on my side that night. Robert didn't pull my name out of the bucket. He got to one newbie, but it wasn't me. Thank God. it would've undoubtedly been my first lesson in humility and would've backfired a million times over. I would've burned so many bridges, slurring through the routine with several beers in me, probably forgetting the jokes, while the other comics would just marvel at the idiot that was committing suicide at their mic.

What a total douchebag.

It didn't happen though. I'm so GRATEFUL I didn't get to make that first impression.

2. July 14, 2013. 

I read about Marty's on Badslava. There were hilarious reviews and it seemed like the perfect dumpy place to get my first performance out of the way. It didn't sound like anyone would be paying attention, which was good. Like going to a whorehouse to lose my virginity. Quick, sad, and over. So I went there, paid my 5 bucks, and Marty brought me up.

"Hey, going to try and work out my jitters," I said.

I performed maybe 2-3 minutes out of a possible 10-15. My set-list was as follows:

My Last Name, Bob Marley, Cat-Clicking, Man of Steel, "You're Cuter!" and Normalize Breast Feeding.

A comic named Austin said,

"That was your first time? That was good man." I remember I loved one of his punchlines,

"It was the elephantitus in the room, but nobody said anything."

Chuck Bronson was there, along with some performance artist called DYSFUNCTIONAL.

I had survived my first mic. The next week, I went to Marty's again, then Sal's Comedy Hole, then Meltdown Comics. The Jon Lovitz Comedy Club was mysteriously closed one night and I never had a chance to go back.

 

3. After weeks of bombing I got my first "big laugh" at The Palace.

"Had a great open mic last night- my first break thru where I heard the whole audience laugh.  Now I want to chase after that moment again and again.  Been going to some really interesting venues- last night was the 2nd floor of a Chinese Restaurant." (from an e-mail to a friend.)

That was a game changer. I accidentally connected or something, but getting a small group of comedians to laugh was very special. I should've thrown the mic down and said,

"Holy shit, I'm done," and walked away from comedy forever. I'd never get a group of comedians to laugh again.

4. I was huffing it back to the train from the Dangerfield's 3 mic and I saw Paul Scheer and his transparent party tour bus slow down next to me. It was for the "Crash Test" pilot he was filming with Rob Huebel. I had my earphones in and couldn't make out what he was saying, but he was waving to me, so I just saluted back. I had my Long Shot Podcast t-shirt on and I felt like I was having my first comedy nerd moment. I've had Hollywood moments- I've been out here since '99, but that was the first thought of, Hey, I'm one of you guys! I'm doing comedy too! Can I get a ride? No? WELL FUCK YOU, HUMAN GIANT SUCKS!

5. I was consistently hosting at Echoes Under Sunset because no one else would. What a great opportunity! Christian was so cool to me and never hesitated to give up the reigns to young and eager comics. I was suddenly on stage, bringing people up, fucking up their names, apologizing profusely, bombing spectacularly, and often! Great way to start remembering names and faces though. I was writing helpful pronunciations on the side of their actual names,

"Jeff WATT-AND-HAW-FUR."

I was so confused when comics were angry about me fucking up their name, yet they refused to tell me the actual pronunciation!

"No, let me have this to hate about you Wurst. Go fuck yourself new guy!"

Despite my bumbling on stage, I managed to make a few friends. One night I was doing a heckler character and I swear there was only two people watching, but one of them was Tony Bartolone. He came up to me after and said he liked my bit. He was really enthusiastic about it. He asked me if I could do a little improvised bit on a show he was doing. My first real booking!

6. I kept a comedy journal of my first year. I wrote down names of comics that I liked with a star. Ron Babcock- "Funny!" Matt Champagne. Ester Steinberg.

"Jake Cannon told us all to leave." (from a Sal's set)

Dave Ross. I also marked the comics that were doing stuff outside of the box. Some of them I hated. Some of them I liked. Some I hated, started talking to them, and then realized I'd made a bad call. I made a lot of bad calls. First impressions were usually way off, with the exception of GT. I met comics and then listened to them being interviewed on podcasts. More confirmation that I had been wrong. So many interesting people.

7. Chris Putro saw me at The Other Door and put me on his Crispy Comedy Show. 8 minutes seemed like an hour, so I prepared a lot that night.

8. One night when I was bumbling through my hosting duties at Echoes, I brought up Maria Bamford. I barely got her name out.

Some of my favorite ladies in comedy showed up at the Echoes Under Sunset open mic that night. Maria Bamford, Melissa Villasenor and Amber Kenny!

Some of my favorite ladies in comedy showed up at the Echoes Under Sunset open mic that night. Maria Bamford, Melissa Villasenor and Amber Kenny!

9. I did Tony's show at The Lexington and played a wrestler obsessed with John Cena.  Eddie Pepitone was the headliner that night and he saw me perform. At one point I called the audience a bunch of assholes and I heard Eddie's cackle for a moment. Man that felt good.

 

10. I hosted at Tribal Cafe for 3 hours every Saturday afternoon for 6 months. I had plenty of time to practice by myself, because ...not a lot of foot traffic.. I was lucky to have more than 3 in the audience. Jeanne Whitney occasionally hosted with me. Anyway, it could be pretty bleak, but I met some cool people like Maagic Collins and Tamoy Sherman. Then there was the guy in the cowboy hat.

 

It was already a crazy day because earlier, a fight almost broke out. Some guy was performing and it was one of those aggressive uncomfortable sets and Tamoy made the mistake of telling the guy to tell some jokes. That escalated into a shouting match and it was clearly going to get ugly, so I cut the mic and told the guy to leave.

"FREEDOM OF SPEECH!" was his parting argument.

Yeah, we all thank our lucky stars for having freedom of speech whenever an asshole rants on the mic.

Anyway, so that left things tense. So then the dude with the cowboy hat enters.

He's an older man, not particularly funny, and I'm guessing he's just one of the many eccentric characters that hang out in Echo Park.

He made jokes about going postal and with a grin he opens up his shirt to reveal he's strapped with dynamite.

Claire was there, she can vouch for this.

Of course it wasn't real, it couldn't be, but the day had taken a turn and it would've been entirely appropriate for some dude to walk in and kill us all- that was the punchline! I told one comedian he had to leave and another popped in to blow us up! Hilarious.

Claire said it had to be candles. So now everything is weird in the room, he's still doing his set and next he unsheathes a samurai sword. I'd failed to notice he had a sword on him, I know this is surreal.

He's waving it around and there was no mistaking it, a real sword. It's a David Lynch moment, the dude is still grinning like he's my friend, he even asks me,

"Did I get the light?"

"I'm not going to light you, you got the sword," I said.

He finished his set and left. The bored, unaffected Tribal employee failed to notice this was even happening. The service always sucked there anyway. I called it a day and quit early.

 

In the following weeks I went to Fanatic Salon, IO West, House of Tacos and Rockpaper Coffee. Jamar Neighbors was hosting at the Hollywood Improv on the main stage. What a fun mic.

I took the bus to Burbank and had my first audition at Flappers- nailed those 3 minutes. I practiced it until 3am the night before. I'm sure that was completely unnecessary. That lead to my exhilarating, but mostly painful experience with bringer shows, so I'll stop here. I can't wait to re-live the next chapter.

To be continued in the next day or so...

To go to the next entry about Bringer Shows, click here