So, I’ve been trying improv lately, and I’ve discovered a couple of things about myself.
I use profanity in nearly all my sentence construction.
I am who I am on stage; basically, I’m a 35-year-old single comedian with an obsession with penis jokes.
This is fine. I love who I am, all my parts, even though my boobs are probably too big.
(Sidebar – I went in for a consultation, and; did you know that they want $8k to reduce them? I don’t know if they’re going by pound or what, but I feel as though they ought to be paying me. This is quality boob flesh, we’re talking about.)
But, what I’ve noticed about Improv is, mainly, that they’re a bunch of kids, 14-20 tops. Like a dozen high school-age kids, me, three older guys and Emma-the-standup-comic-I-actually-respect.
My first ever scene is about a baby shower, with a girl that has no baby daddy. And, I’m in a room of 14 children, and Emma-the-standup-comedian-I-actually-respect. So, I’m actively trying NOT to spew the filth that’s rapidly formulating in my brain. I think I may have given myself an aneurism, holding it all in.
I’d never seen so many dick jokes, so clearly. Like an idiot savant of genital one-liners. It looked like a pornographic warp-speed. It was beautiful.
I don’t know him or anything, but I think George Lucas would have been proud.
I imagine it’s what St. Paul felt when he was knocked off his horse and called by God. It was biblical.
I'm Jane Malone.