8/19/13 Chicks Are Funny: July

In the weeks leading up to this show, there seemed to be a lot of conversation in the local comedy groups about an all-female line-up. Or maybe it only felt like a lot of conversation because I found myself in the midst of most of it. In person, by text, in our Facebook Playground, we were discussing the merits of funny women. The opinions seemed to fall into a few specific categories.

1) Women are funny? Don’t even get me started. That was not a happy chat.

2) If women are so funny, why do they need their own show? This was a legitimate exchange, with good dialogue and a willingness to explore the whys and wherefores. Ultimately, I shared my thought, that all-female comedy shows serve much the same purpose as the Apollo and Motown did for black musical performers. To get the attention of the money holders, invariably men and mostly white, it didn’t hurt to show that you could fill a room, sell out a show, bring a fan base. And sometimes it’s just fun to be with your own, to talk short-hand and share insider moments. Besides, it isn’t a question of needing a single-sex show. It’s just the reality that most of the shows we see locally have a 1:10 female to male ratio; usually there are 5 male comics and an audience of supportive wives. At the club level, female headliners are becoming more frequent. And some of the women you’ll read about in this review will be among those ranks one day.

3) Who said women aren’t funny? I love this. It means either there’s a new generation coming up that just doesn’t think so hard about the gender differences, or it means a number of the open micers just don’t know enough history to realize what an issue it’s been. Both of those possibilities speak to a brighter future.

In the present, however, there is this awesome show at Funny Bone, co-produced by Anna Phillips and Pam Werts. These ladies have been creating showcases for some of the funniest women on the east coast - and a few from across the border - to entertain intimate rooms and packed clubs alike. And on this night, the house was sold out. The box office was turning away anyone without reservations – even being in Pam’s entourage barely got her husband through the door. With solid promotion and the obvious support of management, Chicks are Funny was a win all around.

It’s no secret that both Anna and Pam are my girls. And, the same way I told you that I had to try to check my bias when reviewing my male comic friends, I would struggle having to tell either of them if they hadn’t delivered. Fortunately, they both consistently bring the laughter.

Pam is a naturally funny storyteller. Sitting across the table from her over Saturday afternoon scallion pancakes at Chen’s Garden, I hear every detail of the past week; even without the accompanying texts and photos, I can envision the myriad expressions, locations and situations she’s experienced since our last lunch and I spend most of the meal trying not to choke on my steamed dumplings. Tonight, I get to hear her take on graduation parties, the Amish Mafia (Drive-bys must be epic fails. Can’t they hear the carriage coming?), the ridiculous world of insurance advertising and the importance of getting smart people to start fucking again. Not only is she a funny chick, but she’s also a great MC. She’s good at reading the crowds, working the room. Just like Santa, she sees us when we’re sleeping, and uses her energy to push us back up to the proper laugh level as she ushers each comic to the stage.

First up is Anna Phillips. It would be hard for me to imagine, among my comedy chick friends, a greater contrast of energy. Anna is low-key, her wit is desert dry and lightning fast. She starts by commenting on the entrance music (Spice Girls? Really? Is that ‘cause I have a vagina?), then goes straight into breaking down some very new personal information: getting a mammogram and being diagnosed “prediabetic”. (Isn’t everyone pre-diabetic? It’s a little like being pre-dead.) The interactions with the registered dietician (She’s talking to me like I’m five years old. Eat healthy fruits – watermelon is bad. Oh, that’s bullshit, man. That’s probably why black people have diabetes in the first place.) and the x-ray tech (I don’t like nudity. I take a shower in my clothes. When she put that slime on me, I felt awkward, started moaning.) feel like time-treated bits, even though the mammogram had happened mere hours before the show. Because she’s my friend, I can tell you that this is her natural state, this is how her brain processes.

And I love that she is fearless when it comes to discussing race. She talks about white-on-white racism (I can’t co-sign on it, but I enjoy the “fight amongst yourselves” approach.), the racially divided reaction to her not voting for Obama (My black friends were like, Nigga’, explain yourself, while my white friends were like, Explain yourself, Nigger.) and the way she uses history against her supervisor (She asks me to bring her a cup of coffee, I say “yes, Massa, right away.” She says never mind, let me get you some. I like my coffee with a little white guilt.) She ends by addressing her black guilt: I tip 70% to make up for those who came before.

Anna and Pam will both be on next month’s show. See them in person, because I don’t really do justice to either of them here.

Next on the bill is Anne Lin. She dives right in with the difficulties of growing up Asian in a small town (I went to a small school where I was ALL the minority.), having a dad who she describes as a Chinese redneck (pick a different American dream, one with fewer Jeff Foxworthy jokes), waiting ‘til college to have sex (I’m Asian. I was an overachiever. I didn’t realize freshman 15 was about weight….). I really like Anne’s joke writing. “My dad has a deer head mounted on the wall, with Samuri swords crossed underneath. Like he’s saying, ‘Don’t worry, we’re still Asian.’ Yeah, but not Japanese.” Or this one, about a guy who is hitting on her: “’Taiwan? I love Thai food!’ Never mind. I don’t have time to explain fifty years of Cold War history.”

Anne seemed a little nervous, and the audience was restless. Talking to her after the show, I learned that that was her biggest crowd to date and that she didn’t know where the light was, so wasn’t sure when to end. Those are performance mechanics, and I am confident they will improve over time. Right now, her strength is in her very smart writing; I am looking forward to watching Anne grow as a comic.

Martha O’Neill reminds me of an actress whose name I still can’t recall, but she’s boozy and blowzy and full of confidence. She begins her set by telling the audience how gorgeous they are (I’ve been married to my husband for 19 years. Anyone who isn’t him is doable). After struggling to get into her jeans, then looking down to discover they were her husband’s, she’s started the Cayenne/Maple Syrup/Lemon diet (My piss makes an awesome salmon marinade.). She has a nice bit about aging as an attractive woman (I walked by a construction site. Silence. I doubled back, got nothing. The third time, I actually walked into a guy who said, “Sorry, I didn’t see you,” to which I responded, “Hey, buddy, my breasts are down here.”) that leads to an Orange is the New Black reference (I walk past prisons at lunch. Incarceration makes this look attractive again.)

Martha’s style is powerful without being in-your-face. Sometimes, as women, we push too hard to sell ourselves; Martha gives out a very solid energy that basically says, I know I’m funny, you know I’m funny, so why pretend otherwise? Her closing bit about reading stories online with her son and searching for “big brown bear” (Mommy, what was that man doing to Santa?) is killer. Check out www.marthaoneill.com and listen to her pod cast, “The Joke Merchants with Martha O’Neill.”

Next on the stage is Suga Mama, a Rochester comic whose act I have been watching develop weekly at Comedy at Acanthus. Suga Mama’s style is audience-friendly, light hearted even when the jokes skew a little dark. She tells the crowd to give themselves a hand for coming out and supporting live comedy, and it’s a well-deserved acknowledgment, considering the house is packed. She jumps right in with Anthony Weiner jokes (speaking of hard…this Weiner’s a real dick. His wife is sticking by him. I hear she’s getting counseling from Hillary.), followed by a Rhianna reference (I went to her concert because I wanted to see where she was punched) and the new way she has to justify calling off work (I think my grandmother has died like three times now. My boss says I have to bring proof…I don’t care. I’ll walk into a funeral home and snatch a program, no problem!). Her closing bit tonight is about the couple who were born on the same day, eloped at 18, spent 75 years together and died a day apart: She’s up in Heaven, he shows up. She’s like, “Damn, I can’t get one day to myself?” Catch Suga Mama at open mics and local shows in the WNY area.

Thanks to Pam’s orchestration, Becky Bays takes the spotlight to people chanting her name and cheering; because of her own wit and wonderfulness, the laughter and cheering continue throughout her entire set. This is my introduction to Becky.

      

I’m visiting from Toronto. I was approached by a homeless guy asking if I could spare some change. I said no. He told me to go fuck myself. “Sir, that is never my first choice. I may have to, though, given our lack of chemistry.”

I honestly spit water on myself. Here is this very petite, proper woman tapping my shoulder with these simple premises - did you know birds eat one and a half times their weight in food each day? – and then landing the punch – I DO eat like a bird! – right upside my brain. I struggled not to miss a single joke while scribbling like a mad woman so I could do her justice in this review. I’m going to offer you a few of my favorites, then compel you with all my psychic strength to go to www.beckybays.com and watch her video clips. This one, you need to see for yourself!

“I can’t date younger guys. The judge was very specific….”

“The trainer told me, Becky, I never want you to do a regular crunch again. I’m waaay ahead of you. I stopped years ago.”

She’s in a museum in Croatia when she overhears Joanne from Nebraska say, “If I hadn’t run into you ten minutes ago, I would have missed this. That was God – God wanted me to see this.” So Haiti and Darfur fell through the cracks because God was too busy helping Joanne set her travel plans.

While sharing her one great skill (spelling and grammar) which has no modern application except being a complete asshole on blogs and Facebook: Oh, you “alluded” them? Hahaha. I think you mean “elude”. Oh, you should “of” done that? Perhaps you mean should “have.” When you say you allowed your seven year old to do something and you spell it a-l-o-u-d, aren’t you just really saying she’s already exceeded your level of education?

“My mother said, never assume. It makes you a bitch.”

Go to Becky’s web site and listen to her tell the tales of meat chunk showers in 19^th-century Kentucky, people who believe everything happens for a reason and Haida beds. Follow her on twitter. Personally, I’m waiting for the “Becky Bays Quirk-A-Day” desk calendar.

Working our way to tonight’s headliner, the audience has been engaged, excited and expressive: Erin Judge comes out swinging. “Lots of promises in hip hop music to do it until the break of dawn. Guys don’t do that. Maybe if you start at, like, ten minutes to dawn.” “I’m bisexual. If you don’t know what that means, is, you’re my type. Unless you’re a type that wouldn’t like me back, like gay dudes or the Amish.” People can’t seem to wrap their mind around her bisexuality. “’You have so many choices, oh my god, Erin, how do you deal with it, so many choices, so many choices.’ There are two, okay? Dudes and chicks. Dudes are dumb and chicks are nuts…with chicks, I end up saying stuff like, ‘honey, please stop crying. sweetie, I’m sorry, don’t cut yourself’…with dudes, it’s more like, ‘Don’t pee on that!’”

Erin is a skilled balance of all we’ve seen on this bill. She has an assured manner, a bright presence, an invigorating energy and funny material that she weaves from personal to political, like Arachne building a flawless tapestry. When she says she doesn’t want to be a maid of honor (can’t I just write a check for $800 and avoid the fake nails, horrible hair?), it feels like a conversation you’d have with your sister. When she kicks it up a notch (Brides wear veils. I’m pretty sure we declared war on people for that…our women only do it on the day when their property and rights get turned over from their father to their husband….), it feels more like an Advanced Feminist Theory lesson taught by an ultra-cool grad student.

Here are a few of my favorites from this show. “In case I get mugged, I carry two iPods. One is loaded with songs about stealing and remorse.”  “People say, ‘I don’t mind God – it’s his followers I can’t stand.’ That’s how I feel about Dave Matthews.” “My mom showed me how to put condoms on bananas, which is great because most bananas I have sex with don’t know how to put it on themselves.” “This car doesn’t run on fear of abandonment and low self-esteem.” “I personally have never understood the appeal of 69. For me it’s like this. I either want to be at work or on vacation. I don’t want to be getting emails from my boss while I’m at the beach.”

There’s so much more about Erin that I’m sure you will love. Go to www.erinjudge.com, where you can pick up a copy of her cd, “So Many Choices.” Follow the link to her blog, So Make It Up.

I am so grateful to Pam for batting her lashes – or bobbing her breasts, whichever – to get us into this show. I hope every last one of the naysayers who seemed puzzled at an all-female line-up will come check out the next Chicks are Funny on August 28^th. Carlisle Carey, Jaye McBride, Sabrina Davis, Anna Phillips, Pam Werts and headliner Liz Russo will provide another much-needed night of laughter, and Funny Bone Syracuse is a great room in which to take it all in.

Back to question number three. Who said women aren’t funny? Not this girl. A month later and I’m still giggling. Glad you joined me.

Earl David Reed

I have not been here for awhile.

I have not been able to go to the club, watch a show and then come home and immediately share the experience. There have been requirements and distractions for weeks and I have been challenged to keep my commitment to you, to these comics, to Comedy herself. I needed a jump start, a palate cleanser.

I needed tonight’s show.

I knew far too little about Earl David Reed, but I adore Tim Almeter and Anna Phillips, both of whom would be taking the stage on this Saturday night. We got to The Club a few moments after the start and squeezed into the first booth as Tim was telling one of my favorite jokes. It’s the one about the black friend from the group home who is afraid of deer – check the September Ben Bailey review for the awesome punch line. The room was filled with people who came to laugh, and they did, with and for Tim, for his whole set.

My last few comedy encounters with Tim have all been open mics, so it was a blast to be reminded how polished he is, how easily he takes that stage and transforms from young friend to professional comedian. Later tonight, Tim will insist that he’s giving it up, that he can’t do it if he can’t start making money. The truth of that situation is that he hasn’t positioned himself to, yet. While I remain convinced that Tim is the real deal, and will do well once he dives in, he struggles with his pro and con list, and I respect his struggle.

Tim brings Anna Phillips to the stage with the introduction, “This is one of the funniest people I know,” and he is not just spouting host hyperbole. We both love this woman, for her quick, dry wit and her unassuming nature, her ability to move an audience and her genuineness. Tonight’s audience seems to agree with us; they are roaring for Anna. I marvel in her vulnerability as she talks about going home for family gatherings and hearing their reactions to her weight gain; I dig her serial killer routine (Any serial killer who wanted to cut me up would need to make a lot of trips to the car. Dexter would need a two-part episode…You all deserve to die, and when I get that gastric bypass…for now, the only cereal I’m killin’ are these Honeycombs.); I laugh out loud every time I hear her “balls to the face” bit. Anna, like Tim, tried to convince me she was taking a break a short while ago; and Anna, like Tim, should not walk away from comedy ever.

Tonight is just what I needed. Tim and Anna have me and this room full of strangers laughing loudly, ready to openly engage with the man formerly known in these parts as Brother Earl. And five minutes into the show, I realize how much he scares me and how glad I am to be in the back of the room.

 

Earl David Reed is an exciting comic, a lightning-in-a-bottle comic. He takes crowd work to a place most can never hope to go, and the room rushes along with him like second graders in a Field Day race. Starting with simple questions we’re all capable of answering – What’s your name? Where are you from? What do you do? – Earl builds his 50 minutes around the audience, and they love it. Tom loves being hung like a Tic Tac; his wife giggles knowingly when Earl says she has fresh breath. The guy who says he’s from Webster (oh, so you’re from here? Obviously. Obviously? You’re not from this room….) postures for just a second, then surrenders immediately. Travis’ future wife is thrilled to let him be the punch line (When you get a name like Travis, they gotta’ give you a truck.). Matt, the engineer, is almost bursting when Earl tells him he looks tired “from working on the railroad all the live-long day.”  A second later, he’s saying exactly what’s in my head: your wife named Dinah? Someone in the kitchen with her? I won’t say “will she blow?” The audience was howling from start to finish. I have seen very few rooms this engaged, this joyful to be part of the show.

Once I realized that what I was watching was not just the way Earl warms up a crowd, but his act itself, I had to switch processing gears. And it was a simple shift, because I recognized what was unfolding onstage. If you take a look back to July, you’ll find my first-ever review of Mike Dambra, a friend and comic whose photo makes me smile and whose act left me dazzled by its brilliance. I said this: “His written jokes…are delivered in and around audience play, which makes them appear more improvised than they really are. It’s what Robin Williams said he was doing in his stand up days: he wrote a lot of material that flowed so well with the stuff he was making up on the spot, the audience thought it was all improv. That style is a lot of work, no matter how easy Mike makes it seem.”

And here was Earl David Reed, with that similar gift, wrapping his jokes around the shoulders of whoever showed up tonight ready to play. I was at once impressed by his skill, and scared that he might eventually work his way to the back of the room. It’s a weird thing with me and, like most PTSD issues, one that I can trace back to a specific incident or two, but I absolutely hate to be engaged by a comic during his/her show. I watch differently than the average audience member. I’m listening to the jokes, but I’m also analyzing the audience response, the body language, the use of silence, the energy in the room, the wordplay, whether or not I’m laughing out loud. I once unintentionally derailed a friend’s bit because I couldn’t name a woman when she called on me. I was so busy admiring her body awareness that I couldn’t shift in real time, and the only thing I could utter was “Jesus Christ!”

I shared that with Earl between shows, that I enjoyed and admired his skill but was so grateful not to have been a part of it. He pointed out to me that he wasn’t asking for real engagement or deep thought; he was asking simple questions that anyone could answer, and then just riffing on whatever he’s given. He’s not making fun of his audience, he’s playing alongside them, sharing his toys. I see that, but it doesn’t alleviate my anxiety, and I’m grateful I was on the back wall. But I’m equally grateful I got to see Earl in action. He is truly talented, and a joy to watch.

I realize that I related to Earl on two other important levels. The first is his joke joke material: Time out was what my mother used to take when she needed a rest from beatin’ the shit out of us. Remarrying someone you previously divorced is like drinking sour milk, then putting it back in the refrigerator for the next day. These Civil War re-enactors asked if I wanted to hang out with them. I know my history, too. I told ‘em to call me when they get to the Motown years.

The second is the fact that he now lives about 20 minutes from my childhood, and for the first time in years, someone recognized the name of my hometown and didn’t smirk, giggle or roll their eyes. Anyone who knows Dillsburg and doesn’t immediately start in with the pickle jokes is a potential friend for life. I will make it a point to learn more about Earl David Reed, and so should you. You can follow him on twitter at @earldavidreed, check out his website, www.imearldavidreed.com, and pick up a dvd or a tshirt. Earl gives at least half of the proceeds to breast cancer awareness projects, so you can help others while helping yourself to some serious funny.

Comedy With Curves: Witty Women, All

When my friend Pam Werts was asked to produce a show with female comics, she didn't think twice about it. She knew, as do I, that there are plenty of funny ladies in Western New York and an all-female line up would bring a needed dose of estrogen to The Comedy Club. It never crossed her mind that the night wouldn't be laugh-filled and successful.

Sure enough, the first Comedy with Curves was both those things. Successful, because 83 paying fans showed up on a Sunday night - yes, even I gave up some precious NFL hours - to hear Dewey Lovett, Anna Hall, Maryanne Donnelly, Anna Phillips and Pam talk about decoy sluts, go-to lesbians, suicide lines, balls to the face and mom's moist box. Laugh-filled, because they talked about decoy sluts, go-to lesbians, suicide lines, balls to the face and mom's moist box.

Every one of these women is funny, and each of them has a style/persona all her own. Pam rocks as a host because she has a take-no-prisoners delivery and pop culture reference points that span 30+ years. From Bon Jovi to Adele, human insurance agents to Geico geckos, Pam can paint a broad stroke of ha ha across a room. Dewey is so unexpected, her tiny frame and squeaky mouse voice are a sharp contrast to her sarcasm and innuendo. MaryAnne's stylized Sad Sack is a well-crafted and honestly maintained vehicle through which to deliver her smart word play. Anna H is quirky and upbeat, with a bit of a Caroline Rhea vibe, while Anna P provides some of the most hilarious lines of the night with a "funniest girl in the break room" casualness. These women rocked the stage, and made the Comedy With Curves show an instant hit.

Next week, on Sunday December 23rd, Comedy With Curves will present its second show. There have been grumblings around the town. "It can't grow without real sponsors." "There just aren't that many funny women in upstate New York." "It can't work without a known headliner." What do my kids say? "Haters gotta' hate." Success breeds many responses; always, among the well-wishers, will be some people who, for whatever reason, don't want to acknowledge the good. That's ok. I believe in Pam. I believe in funny women everywhere and I believe in these funny women, all of whom I am blessed to call friends.

So, here's what One Girl's Giggle is gonna' do. This blog is now an official sponsor of Comedy With Curves. This blog will put up money to pay the comics, who did the first show for the love of their art and a beautiful bouquet of flowers from Pam. And I will offer to pay the $5 admission fee for the first 10 people who contact me here on Blogspot or on my Facebook page. I will call out to Dario, Mike, Kevin, Bryan, Jimmy, Woody, Austin, Nate, Tim, Vince, Mikey, Law and any other local guys in my comedy click and say, hey, come support this show. On my dime or yours. Be here for Dewey, for Anna, for the girls who have always laughed at you and made you feel supported, loved. I will ask Natalee to be my guest and sit with me in the booth, laughing away some free time before the big holiday push. I will ask you to bring family members, friends in town for festivities, even strangers who look like they could use a giggle in this season of giving.

There will be both new and familiar faces on this line-up. That's simply a matter of holiday timing, NOT because there aren't a plethora of funny women in the area. Once the new year rolls around, there will be larger sponsors, and shows will be spaced out a bit. This is not a whim, an anomoly. I can't wait to see Rich Vos's movie, "Women Aren't Funny," but I know his talented comedian wife, Bonnie McFarlane, reinforces for him every day why that title itself is just another punch line.

Women may use, process and deliver humor differently than men. There is plenty of research, scientific and informal, to explain why. You guys are peacocks and making us laugh is another way of winning our favor. We have tits and ass. Your funny bone is the last thing you care to have us arouse. And that's fine. We, the fans of comedy, are all here for the same reason: to laugh. I'm behind anyone who can give me that release, whether you pee sitting, standing up or spinning distractedly in a circle while evaluating the tilework.

Come join me at The Comedy Club on Sunday, the 23rd, at 7:30 pm, for Comedy With Curves. You won't be disappointed. At the very least, you can watch the giggle jiggles as a room full of breasts heave with laughter. Most likely, you won't be able to stop yourself from joining in.