Live At The Improv

[Cori]

[OFF-CAMERA]

The Improv
12:35 am


”--I stayed over at my mom’s house last night. She fell asleep reading so I tucked her in, woke up really early and made breakfast. First thing she tells me is she how she hates her feet being covered by the blankets because they get hot.”

A 'WTF' look on my face. A little bit of laughter in the crowd. Way in the back. They can already tell what’s coming. The light in my face has become natural now.

”She tells me she feels confined... Too warm. I tell her y’know... Our family has always had good circulation. She looks at me and says you can trace it all the way back to great-grandma Matilde, which is new to me because we don't have a great-grandma Matilde. I tell her you could say circulation has always been in our blood!”

Laughter. Groans. More laughter. I let it push me forward.

”My mom doesn’t understand me when it comes to dating. Apparently getting by on pity and how many cherry stems you can tie with your tongue wasn’t a thing in her hey day. ‘Oh honey you should try Tinder. It’s been working great for me!’... There’s just some things you don’t wanna hear from your mother... That she’s been using Tinder or she’s been using it better than you.”

That one kills. The whole room lights up this time. The buzz on my second Mai Tai is spurning me on.

”Parents are too hip nowadays. Years ago you’d hear your parents something like, ‘Oh you use the Tinder’. Now they know how to use the thing better than you do. Now they can tell you about the apps, used to be they typed on Facebook with two fingers. 'Look, I'm tweeting!'. God...”

Things rest. I walk around on stage to the stool and the stand the microphone was previously on. I grab the Mai Tai and take a sip. One girl whistles and I quietly toast her before putting the glass down and grabbing the glass full of water. A quick sip and I’m off to the races again.

”Dating is a headache. You can’t date anyone too young because they don’t get your jokes and you don’t get theirs. Can’t date anyone too old because they can’t hear your jokes.”

Old joke. A palette cleanser.

”Worst thing is the prospect of having kids. Man I don’t want kids. I don’t want kids because I like kids way too much. You see parents go away without their kids. How do you tell your kids that? ‘We need a break from you.’ ‘Oh no problem mommy. No problem pops, you just wanna get away from it all.’ ‘’Actually we’re going with the Bergers across the street. Couples on a cruise ship. No really, it’s just to get away from you.’”

Not as much laughter there. I’ll need to work that one out of the set or get better on delivery. That or perform in front of a crowd who has a lot of kids. It’s a Saturday night. What are the odds?

”I’ve got a system when it comes to dating. I only do serious relationships with women, I only do one night stands with guys. Honestly, it's like being a noncommittal vegetarian.”

The setup is easy here. I give a little pause, I get a little laughter. A little expectation of what’s to come.

”’Oh yeah, I’m doing the vegetarian thing these days. I’m very happy... Oh this? This is spaghetti squash with a carrot and onion bolognese... What is that?  Is that steak?’”

Pause. Bite my bottom lip.

”Hanger steak?”

Head tilt. Tongue click. Absurd pause like I’m staring at the world’s biggest package... Of Omaha Steak.

”I’ll say.”

Killing joke. Not the best but it gets the room rolling. Mannerisms help. Mannerisms help a WHOLE lot.

”Thank you, I’m Raquel Fair, you’ve been beautiful!””

Wave a hand, walk off stage...

...Come back for my Mai Tai. That was an accident but the laughs keep coming anyway.

I could get used to this.