I did a rather unique show Saturday night. I walked backstage and six women in various states of undress were hanging out. Usually my pre-show comedy routine involves me and another drunk and/or depressed comedian talking about how bad the show is going to be or how shitty the hotel is…you get the point.
The ringleader of the show announced that no one on the show was to drink more than one beer. I almost had to choke her when I realized she was speaking to the dancers. OK, we’re cool again. Sorry for overreacting. I thought getting drunk would help with the whole taking clothes off in front of strangers, but then again it is probably difficult to dance in high heels with a DUI level blood alcohol content. Then again, I wouldn’t know and hope to never find out.
It really was interesting to be backstage at a theater. There were two couches, four chairs and not much room with all the props, saws, and such. Basically, what I’m telling you is that every time I turned around there was a nearly nude chick with pasties doing something…but they didn’t care. I still felt like a creep and ending up looking at the ceiling, floor, or acting like I was perusing my set list. Hmm, I’ll tell the one about the bad haircut I had when I was in third grade, yes, that works…oh look, silver pasties. Well, this is awkward. Oh! Then I’ll do the one about how women love inspirational quotes…as a woman is changing her garter belt…time to move over to the corner of the room. Wait, that is creepier than being front and center. This really backfired. I could hang out in the bathroom instead…and back to worse options than before. Give me the mic and let me get the hell out of here.