Like A Romantic Comedy, Only Funny (Or how me and Mrs., Mrs. Jones met Pt. 1)

I had tried doing stand-up comedy again in the summer of 1997, after 12 years of saying I would never try it again (which is a story in itself, filled with a lot of name dropping and whining... "And this is different... how?" you ask, to which I sniff and keep right on going, as if you had said nothing. Because I have class and dignity, dadgummit), because my dear fiend Lizzy Beckwith (she's been on "Curb Your Enthusiasm"!) talked me into it. If it weren't for her, I would never have met my wife.

On Mondays, the now-defunct Santa Monica arts/performance space "Creativity" (and kids, this was the early nineties) had a comedy open-mike (well, to be fair there was some poetry and music there, too, but, as I had found in Sanf Francisco previously, poetry and songwriting that sincere can be pretty funny) that was frequented by a lot of the fiends I like to mention ("You mean name drop, don't you?"... to which I shoot you a withering glance) in this here blog. And on Monday, August 18th, 1997 I met my wife there. If it weren't for "Creativity"'s Monday night open mike, I never would have met my wife.

My future wife had come out from Boston with arch-fiend Joe Wilson with a two-person show called "Subject To Stress" and were trying their hand at doing stand-up as well. They each had an act, Joe's being very dark, very funny observational humor (always from smarts, Joe being very, very smart) and my future wife telling an amazing assortment of funny stories about previous relationships gone bad (but without male bashing... she made it clear these guys were unique, shall we say?) and her huge Irish family. Her stuff, from the first time I saw it, was really great, and much different from my obscure Show Biz references and impressions ("You're kidding!" you exclaim sarcastically, to which I glare, but continue). If it weren't for Joe Wilson, I would never have met my wife.

During her stand up, I hear her mention it was her birthday. The weird thing was, it was my birthday too. She also said how old she was. We were the same age. After her stand-up, I kept looking over at her and she would look back, giving me this look and I would blush (because basically, when it comes down to it, I'm a big girl) and look away. Then I went onstage and did what I laughingly called (but now somberly referred to as) an act. In it, I mention that the previous comic must have looked at my notes, because it was also my birthday and I was also that age she had said. Everyone "oohed" and "ahhed". Or something that sounded like that. And if it weren't for that audience, I never would've met my wife.



end Part one...

In tomorrow's installment, I tell how New York comic and provacateur, Andrew J. Lederer helped me meet my wife...