I am not kidding. I don’t know what has changed in society. I don’t know if it’s the internet, or if y’all just stopped having secrets. But…
Y’all just out here telling all y’alls business.
I am not your therapist. I am not your priest. I am a comedian. My job is to tell you my business, which is mostly fake and exaggerated, so that you can laugh.
It is not a two-way street.
But you don’t care. As soon as I walk into the crowd with this microphone, it’s like a truth serum. It’s like I’m holding a magical confession stick. Y’all see me coming, and your brain just goes, “Oh, thank God. A stranger I can emotionally ruin.”
I was in Des Moines last week. Des Moines. People are supposed to be polite there. They’re supposed to have shame.
Not this lady.
I’m doing my usual crowd work. I see a woman in the front row, she’s having a great time. “Ma’am, what do you do for a living?”
She grabs the mic. Grabs it! Like, my mic. She yanks it.
“I’m an accountant!”
“Oh, an accountant! Nice! You must be good with numbers, very organized.”
And she says, “I am! Which is how I figured out my husband was cheating on me!”
…What?
The what? Ma’am! I just wanted to know if you liked your job!
The whole room does that thing. That “OOOOOOH-no-he-didn’t” sound.
And her husband is right next to her.
He’s just sitting there, looking at his menu. Like he’s suddenly fascinated by the appetizer selection. He’s like, “Ooh… spinach dip.”
I’m frozen. I’m a comedian. My next joke is about how Pop-Tarts are just ravioli for breakfast. I am not emotionally equipped for this.
I’m like, “Ma’am… I… okay. You… wanna… tell us about that?”
Do I? No. But do I really? Yes.
She goes, “Oh, yeah! He thought he was slick! He was using the company credit card to buy gifts, but he was coding them as ‘Office Supplies.’ And I’m just sitting there at the kitchen table like, ‘This is a lot of laminating sheets, Gary! Are you laminating the entire street?!'”
I am crying laughing. The crowd is screaming. And Gary is just… sinking. He’s just slowly sliding down his chair. He’s trying to become one with the floor.
She is out here, on a Tuesday, at a comedy club, telling a room full of 200 strangers that Gary is a lying cheat who doesn’t know how to use QuickBooks.
Y’all! I don’t need this! My act needs this, but I don’t!
I’m not your confessional. Stop telling me your secrets. You’re just out here broadcasting all your trauma for a two-drink minimum.
…But also, please don’t stop. This is the only way I can write new material. 🤣
