#kathleenmcgee

It gets said a lot: “Location! Location! Location!” I think it’s original meaning has more to do with things seen on Love it Or List It, but it also has meaning in stand up comedy. (I think.) You technically can do comedy anywhere. But should you? After already enduring “Show Us Your Tits” and “Show Us Your Tits” in a facking comedy club, should I really be pushing my luck?

I’m booking my own shows now. It’s a learning experience, to say the least. Nothing I’m ashamed nor scared to do though. Our country only has so many shows available, so through word of mouth, it’s pretty easy to figure out who’s trust worthy, and who’s not. (But at least pays… eventually.)

So I flew across the country for some gigs. Don’t worry. I didn’t pay for the flight. And neither did my dad, shockingly. I have a curse/lucky streak of being on flights that are over booked, and the airline staff ask for passengers to step off for a voucher and take the next flight. I don’t wanna brag, but I once did this FOUR times in ONE day. I scored FOUR free flights for United. (That’s why I’ve been to Boise, Idaho.) It takes patience, a good book and a special skill of being able to turn your purse into a pillow, but you too can be a poor man’s frequent flyer.

So I decided to turn my free flight into an opportunity to make money. The booker was very excited to have me, and thus, I was excited to put on a good show. I had the option of bringing an opener, but I chose to do something different. One of the perks of booking my own shows, is I get to pick who I work with. Instead of an opener, I brought another headliner, Kathleen McGee. We combined the opener and headliner money, and split it down the middle. I know, I know… I’m Humble Magoo when it comes to cash money. But I’d rather have fun on the road, than make an extra few hundred bucks. (Plus I’ll be able to blast Taylor Swift in the car. SUPER important.)

The booker was amazing to us. What started off as a two show weekend, grew to a four show weekend. But there was this one show….

That was in a strip club. 

At first, I validated the booking by thinking,

“Well, it is Prince George. They probably don’t have a lot of proper venues for stand up. Maybe the other bars in town aren’t open on Wednesdays… Maybe Alicia Keys has played there… At least I know I will be on a real stage, and not a ten-foot piece of elevated wood. I wonder if they’ll have craft beer on tap…”

Plus, if the strippers are as fast as the drag queens with coming up with new numbers, there’s a good chance I’m gonna see a “Shake It Off” routine after my set. The fun thing about working with Kathleen, is I know we are two comics that have a similar philosophy in life:

“When life gives you shit, make shitonade!”

We walk into Alibis, after eating what I might add, was the best salmon supper I’ve had in forever in the adjoining restaurant. And comped! I could get used to this. In comedy clubs, we only get half price. After getting the who’s who talk of Prince George, (who should be in jail, but’s not,) Kathleen and I have to figure out who’s going first. We flip for it. I win- or lose. I have to go last. FACK! I’m jealous of her, because these are the sets I’d MUCH rather go first, so I can get off stage and start drinking immediately. Plus, she’s got more dirty material than me, and I always believe solid dirty material should go last. It’s hard to follow.

The booker is also the host, and to his compliment, he actually did bring a crowd who was expecting comedy. That could have been awkward-

“Sorry, gentlemen! You won’t be seeing any boobs tonight! Instead, we bring you… talking ladies!”

The second Kathleen takes the stage, I start video taping. Cuz that’s the world we live in now. We video tape EVERYTHING in search of the next viral video. I thought I was going to make her a STAR that night, but surprisingly, everybody was quite well behaved. Well, some guy did “make it rain” for her immediately. WOW! Do these guys know you don’t have to throw money at comedians? Wait! Let’s start a rumour that you DO! (I always need fives for work.) Kathleen is actually having a fun set. Not as tragic as I thought it would be. And not until I get on stage, will I understand how hard it will be NOT to take a swing or two around the pole. 

I take a shot of Jameson before I hit the stage, as probably most women there do. I take a deep breath, and grab the mic. Wow… If my dad only knew I borrowed his car for this…

I decide to do my set the same way I usually would. I’m doing 40 minutes (or the equivalent of 11 songs, as I explain to the DJ- So yes, you have time for a smoke break.) The way I like to craft my act, is start off with all my clean material, slowly bring them to believe I’m pure, then… BAM! Kinky joke!

I didn’t request a specific intro song, but am quite pleased with the DJ’s decision to go with DJ Kool’s “Let Me Clear My Throat.” That song really brings me back. For all I know, the DJ, IS DJ Kool. With every clean joke I tell, I feel like Michelle Pheiffer in Gangsta’s Paradise. SO educational, you know? (Also, can we start a new saying that goes, “I” before “E,” except after “C-” or Michelle Pheiffer?”) With every big laugh I get, I feel compelled to take a swing around the pole. I gotta say, it really is fun. Maybe some strippers don’t have daddy issues. Maybe they just find the pole to be a grown up slide. Obviously my clothes stayed on, but I was wearing a baggy shirt, so everybody got to see some sweet, sweet, collar bone. 

It was one of those shows where I couldn’t believe I did my FULL time. I thought for sure I’d go running off the stage after 20 minutes, but I prevailed! A comedian success story! Doing your FULL time in a super weird venue is not easy, y’all. We feel pain too, you know. When I finished my set, some man came on stage to clean the floor. (Apparently my Chuck Taylors were a little muddy, and left a mess that was hazardous for the stripper heels.) He didn’t even use a mop. He just skated around with dishcloths stuck to his feet. (A move I know all too well…)

We don’t stay too long after the show. Shockingly, the merch sales and autograph signings don’t take too long. We have a driver take us back to our hotel. (See? Prince George IS classy!) Kathleen and me have one request though…

“Hey, is there any chance you can take us through the McDonalds drive-thru before you drop us off?”

(Canadian entertainers are SUCH divas.)

The driver sighs. 

“Okay. But NO shredded lettuce.”

Kathleen and me look at each other and try to contain our laughter. It seemed like an odd request, but at the end of the day, isn’t he right? It’s his car. And shredded lettuce gets everywhere. In between the seats, on the gears, in your crotch… Shredded lettuce can’t be stopped. It’s like the bed bugs of produce.

We order McChicken meals, but promise we’ll only eat the fries in the car.

The next morning, Kathleen texts me. 

“Just woke up. My bed is covered in shredded lettuce.”

See. This is why the royal baby is named after this town. Such wisdom.

Using my fingers for things other than rings,

Walkinsauce

P.S. I’d also like to state I ALWAYS get sick after hanging out in strip clubs. Is it possible there are extra germs there?

P.P.S. The only reason I didn’t use the booker’s name in this blog is cuz I was scared he’d get bombarded by comics. If you wanna get in touch with him, message me. He’s a grade A guy, and I’m happy to help out struggling comics:)