Batting .500

Batting .500

It’s the weirdest thing that I’ll never get used to, in that you can’t judge any room whether you know it or not. Got the opportunity to do the new room opened at Midtown, at College and Bathurst, hosted by Mike McGregor. Apparently the space used to be a poolroom, not that you’d know now. The back is almost like a nightclub setting with booths and tables throughout. An elevated stage gives a prime focus and a very decent PA system fills the room with sound nicely. We all figured we’d do really really well as the vibes were right. They weren’t really. My set didn’t go as well as it could have, which I take ownership for, frankly. I was way too laid back for what needed to be done, but I’ll know that for next time. Thank God I wasn’t alone in my assessment. Dave Paterson didn’t have the worst set of his life, but far from a Top Five performance. How do you know you need to do better at a room? When Boomer closes his set with the fart singing. Fraser Young sold it at the end and saved us all from a fiery death.

So where do you go from there? You try it at your home room. Did the Old York next for another monthly installment of “Drink ‘Til They’re Funny.” Don’t ask me what the pattern is for these shows now, because I can’t tell you. Let’s run with the 3rd Saturday of every month. That just might work. The night had a crowd in it that wasn’t really laughing as much as critiquing the jokes. No laughs, just things like “That’s a funny joke.” Well, thanks. I’ll remember that when I’m crying beside my toilet tonight thinking I died. Again, didn’t die. But did not get a “Comedy Now!” from it either. Highpoint of the night happened when Ginny Allen chased out a family (middle-aged parents, twenty-something kids) out with one of her jokes about spiders that elicited a comment from the departing mother stating “Immigrants aren’t lazy” as she ducked out of the restaurant. Again, thanks to Nile Seguin for putting it all where it needed to be.

So, licking your wounds where do you go next? Well, how about working a burlesque show, that’s where. A night of musicians, comics, and yes, strippers at a club called the FunHaüs for a night called “Slaves of Seduction”. Goth-types and strippers filed into the show. Oh yes, I can play to this crowd. How do I know I’m ready? Iiii’m wearing my ‘Interpol’ shirt. Surprisingly, I did 15 minutes from what I thought was only ten and got off the stage with decent applause. Maybe they were still jazzed from the male stripper that came on before me. I’ll say it was me, anyways.

So, rounding out the tour of great esteem, how do you cap the loving? Host Ein-Stein’s. No Sonya, so at least I thought I’d get a word in edgewise. Nope. We had to compete with a going-away party that had no need for stand-up that night. So…ehh. Hosted, got the job done, got some new material to drop out of my gob. So I’ll count that as a success. Two out of four ain’t bad. Playing 500 ball, but still need an HR at some point. Hopefully that’ll come at Fallsview Casino. At 11:00pm. Or 1:00am. We’ll not hold our breath, will we?

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