LAUGHING AGAINST MY BETTER JUDGMENT
The way I did it.
I went to a brunch comedy show today.
Completely spur of the moment.
I was at church when the text chirped at me, which reminded me to silence my phone. That may be the first of the several “Is this a good idea?” thoughts that entered my mind when considering going to a live comedy show on a Sunday afternoon.
I’d been feeling defensive about my lack of spontaneity, so I agreed to meet some friends at the club for brunch and a show.
Generally, I’m leery of live comedy. It’s a self-preservation skill I learned when I was running an independent movie theater that had a live, local improv comedy show on Thursday nights. Their weekly shows were hilarious. Remember the TV show Whose Line is it Anyway? Those shows were a lot like that and hilariously different each week. But once a month, the show was strictly for adults only. They called it their Blue Show. That was my cue to hang out in the back, checking the stock, or running reports.
My husband would say that I’m a goody-two-shoes. I like to say that I don’t need to hear about what happens in your bathroom or under your covers—some things are better kept to yourself! It would be fine with me if I never heard a dick joke again. And I’m not talking the Tom, Dick, and Harry kind of joke.
My preferred comedy flavors are LeAnne Morgan and Nate Bargatze. Both have specials on Netflix that had me laughing so loud that my husband came running from the other room to find out what was going on. Egads … I’m just digging the hole deeper and confirming my husband’s goody-two-shoes opinion of me. I did it again—I can’t help myself. And who even says egads these days?!
The second time I questioned my judgment in accepting today’s spur-of-the-moment invitation, I was seated in the second row feeling sorry for the couple in the front row, who were asked about their sex life. They actually handled it well … They shrugged and announced that they had been married for 22 years. I was sure glad I wasn’t in the front row. They were singled out by every comedian who took the stage before the headliner appeared.
My husband, on the other hand, probably would have loved being in the front row spotlight. One of my favorite things about him is the way he makes me laugh. He works for it—50% of the time his jokes aren’t funny—they’re too crass, or it’s just bad humor. But the rest of the time, he has me in stitches. He told me that was good enough for him, and I guess that goes for me, too.
If I use that same ratio—funny 50% of the time—I’d say my comedy club experience was a success! The comedy club hostess, Cristy B, was beautiful, gracious, and crude. She told the most aforementioned dick jokes, and I laughed because it was so unexpected! The next two comedians told jokes about drugs, sex, and marijuana. Right away, you know I didn’t get them because I’ve used the word “marijuana.” I’m sure they said POT. I realize that I’m not helping my coolness factor at all.
This seems like a good time to tell you the story that has my husband in stitches every time he re-tells it. I was working as a bartender in Daytona Beach, and one of the hot young barbacks asked, “Do you burn?” and I replied, “Burn what?” I don’t think he ever talked to me again. Obviously, I wasn’t playing in the same sandbox as he was.
The final comedian to take the stage was Rauce Padgett, the headliner who told jokes about marriage, family, and parenthood. Not just sex. He told us he got his start as a character at the Universal Studios theme park, where I’m sure he had to be “G” rated. He had everyone in the room laughing. Like the comics before him, he picked on the two couples in the front row, and he dubbed another guy Ozempic Santa. His charm was that he brought them into his misfortune rather than asking them to share theirs. And that was funny.
The way I did it. Laughing against my better judgment.
This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—my quest to find what a meaningful life looks like. One experiment per week: Possible strategies for a happier life. Trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to try—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.
Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers
Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with what surprised me the most, what I didn’t expect, what I might do next time, plus things I’m still working on.