#6

The last two nights, I worked and went out with comedians after the shows. Along with the usual "what's the next move?" or “how can we improve our game?” types of questions, I can count on witnessing some playful ribbing & quick witted banter that sparks between the guys when they talk about each other’s attire. This is customary among comics. Years ago, I was fortunate to see it done well and often between Rich Vos, Patrice O'Neal and Keith Robinson.

This juvenile behavior has carried over from high school and still holds up as the guys hit their 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s and beyond. Tonight’s topic is “sneakers” and it starts with "look at those shoes!” “you can wear those inside out!" and it escalates from there. I'm silent and I smile into my soup because I know I'm not fast enough to take part.  I’m the kid that thought of the funny thing to say after the fact. It's really okay. I'm wearing boots anyway. I'm also reeling from being told only moments earlier, that I look like Roz from Frasier. I understand the comparison but I'm hoping I'm the sexier version of Roz...no offense to Roz.

So, waking up this morning wasn’t the easiest. I probably look more like Roz then, let’s say, Demi Moore (who I prefer to resemble). I’m definitely groggy and rushing. I scan my tiny bedroom for a clean dress and settle on a blue, black and brown polka dot-style Anne Klein print and I pair that with my blue converse sneakers and dash. Sneakers. I definitely look like someone’s misfit mom.

I’m on time for work and within seconds the first delivery of the day arrives.  Shortly, the place will be abuzz with rehearsals, improv shows, open mics and our headliner showcases.

It’s never dull. That’s for sure.