Barefoot In The City Of Broken Dreams Part 10

Gina's show was at this little comedy club in Santa Monica called Punchlines. I expected it to be small, and it was, but I didn't expect it to be so crowded, with so many tables and people crammed into such a tiny s.p.a.ce. Seriously, does Los Angeles not have fire codes or what? You could barely squeeze between the tables, and we ended up, like, three feet from the stage. I could also complain about the insane price of drinks, but I realize that will make me sound like a small town rube, and also someone who complains a lot, which is all true, but it's not something I like to advertise.

The stage was basically one of those wood pallets that a forklift lifts, with a microphone on a stand, all in front of a brick wall. It wasn't even a brick building - they had their own brick backdrop (probably fake), maybe eight feet long. What is it about comedy clubs and the brick backdrop behind the stage? Clearly, it's just one more thing that serves absolutely no purpose whatsoever, but somehow makes everyone feel better, like neckties or the entire British royal family.

We had to sit through four comics before Gina took the stage. They were all guys, and they made a lot of jokes about how small their p.e.n.i.ses are and how s.h.i.tty the Los Angeles traffic is. Seriously, if I'd known what a total cliche that was, I wouldn't have mentioned it earlier.

Three of those four comics were bad, and the fourth outright bombed, which was awkward. But no matter how bad they were, each one of them, even the guy who bombed, also had at least one table of friends who had clearly been encouraged to laugh at anything even remotely funny, like Gina had told us to do. It was really obvious which table was there to see who, mostly because the laughter was so phony. I'm no actor, but when it came time to fake-laugh for Gina, I was determined to do it much more convincingly.

When she finally took the stage, I was actually nervous for her. I barely knew Gina, but the four comics before her had to be going home feeling pretty c.r.a.ppy, especially the guy who outright bombed. I'm a gold-stars-for-everyone kind of guy: I don't want anyone feeling bad, not even s.h.i.tty comedians who make bad p.e.n.i.s jokes.

For a moment, Gina stood at the microphone, glowering at the crowd, like she was seriously put out, but I knew this had to be part of her act.

Laughter rippled across the room. I laughed too.

Gina still didn't say anything, just glared at us harder.

People laughed again, a little nervous.

"Whaaaat?" she said at last, completely impatient.

Everyone laughed now. A couple of people whooped it up and applauded, and somehow I realized that Gina had a catch-phrase.

"Whaaaat?" she said again. "You think I'm your b.i.t.c.h? Think I'm your little performing monkey? Well, it don't work like that! You want my comedy, you have to earn it! You hear me? You have to f.u.c.king earn it!"

People started applauding and hollering. Gina looked a.s.suaged, but just barely.

It was a pretty shrewd way to start the show. It was a comedy bit, true, but she'd also immediately established that she was calling the shots, that she was in charge. It wasn't like the four previous comedians, who had all acted desperate, like they had something to prove. Gina had totally turned the tables, making it so the audience had something to prove to her.

"This city is such a piece of s.h.i.t," Gina said. "But no one who lives here seems to realize it. No matter what you say, they always say the same thing: 'But the weather is so great!' Everything smells like ozone and p.i.s.s, but people say, 'Yeah, but the weather is so great!' The city's completely corrupt and totally segregated, and they say, 'Can you believe how nice it is outside today? And in March!' They built this f.u.c.king city in a desert, we've sucked the water table dry, and now we're all totally screwed, but they're, like, 'I'm going to sit around the pool! Oh, and yay, In-N-Out Burger!'"

I laughed. It was funny, especially the little coda about In-N-Out Burger, which people here did seem totally obsessed with.

"Just so you guys know," Gina said, "I'm actually a lesbian, and my girlfriend is here tonight."

Gina motioned to Regina, and a couple of guys made lewd catcalls.

Gina gave the guys the look she'd given the whole crowd at the start of the show. "What the h.e.l.l was that for? You guys do realize that the fact that we're lesbians makes us less likely to f.u.c.k you, right?"

One of the guys booed, which I gave him total props for. I wouldn't have stood up to the woman on that stage.

Gina was impressed too. "Okay," she said, pointing. "You we'll f.u.c.k."

She'd read the audience exactly right: it got a good laugh.

"Just so you guys also know," Gina said to the whole room, "I'm not just a lesbian. I'm an angry lesbian."

The audience oohed and aahed.

"You know how angry I am?" Gina asked.

"No!" someone said. "How angry are you?"

"I'm not just angry about the usual things - helicopter parents or people who don't clean up after their dogs. I'm angry about everything. I'm angry about hub caps. And crown molding. And pinecones. Oh, man, pinecones make me livid! Number two pencils. They! Make! My! Blood! Boil! I hate teabags. And dividing lines in roads. Grrrr! Windex, don't get me started on Windex. Morgan Freeman, he can eat s.h.i.t. I hate ice machines. Oh, and what's the f.u.c.king deal with door k.n.o.bs?"

The audience was eating all this up. I looked at Kevin. He was laughing too, enjoying the show.

"But you know what makes me the angriest?" Gina asked the audience.

"What makes you the angriest?" someone called.

"Dental floss! Nah, just kidding, it's actually Fox News."

The audience went nuts. She had an absolutely perfect read on them.

"Let's talk about lesbians for a minute," Gina went on. "There are a lot of stereotypes about us. That we hate men. That we want to cut your b.a.l.l.s off. That we're going to f.u.c.k your wives and girlfriends." She shrugged, indifferent. "You know what they say: sometimes the stereotypes are true."

I kept laughing along with the rest of the crowd.

Gina went on like this for a good twenty minutes, and she kept pretty much killing it. She'd taken the "angry lesbian" stereotype, and somehow made it both subversive and empowering. At the same time, it didn't feel like "inside" jokes that only a lesbian would understand or find funny. Her angry lesbian was somehow universal.

Finally, up on stage, Gina said to the audience, "Lots of 'comedy insiders' told me that I'd never make it as an out lesbian comic. And appearing in this little s.h.i.thole of a club with an irrelevant audience like you pretty much proves they were right. I'm Gina Carver, thank you and good night!"

The whole room laughed and cheered and applauded, including me, and I realized I hadn't needed to fake-laugh once the whole set.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

After the show, Gina joined Regina and Kevin and me at our table. I would've expected her to look happy, but she didn't.

"You were great!" Kevin said. "Really great."

"I didn't have to fake-laugh at all," I said with a smile.

"Thanks," she said, but it sounded bittersweet.

"What's wrong?" Regina asked Gina.

"Eddy never showed," Gina said.

"This booking agent was supposed to come," Regina explained to Kevin and me.

"Aw, that sucks," Kevin said.

"You guys wanna get something to eat?" Regina said. "Gina can never eat before a show."

"Sure," Kevin said. "Where to?"

Regina looked at Gina. "Stefano's?"

"Fine, whatever," Gina said, obviously sulking.

"They've got things you can eat."

"Yeah, spaghetti without parmesan."

"Okay, since this has to be all about you, where do you want to go?"

"What about RAWvolution?"

"Great if you're a rabbit."

Kevin interrupted. "I think there's a diner just down the street."

Gina invited a couple of people to dinner with us, Rodney and Kyle - two of the other comics from that night. They were both sort of hapless straight guys, one black and one white (neither of them was the guy who outright bombed).

As we were waiting for the waitress to take our order, I said to Gina again, "You really were great." Then I remembered that Rodney and Kyle had gone on that night too, so I added, "You all were."

It sounded completely insincere, even to me. I thought back about how I'd been so certain that my fake-laughter would sound real. Sincerity was harder to fake than I thought.

"S'cuse me," Gina said to a pa.s.sing waitress. "Can I get a Red Hook?"

"I never realized how much comedy is like writing," I said to the table. "I mean, I know it is writing. But what makes a successful comedy set is exactly what makes a successful screenplay. It's all about the voice."

"Yeah," Kyle said, sort of apologetic. "I had a sore throat tonight."

"No," I said, feeling awkward. "I meant the perspective. That kind of voice, you know? All the jokes revolve around a certain point of view. Something new, something authentic. They're not just random jokes."

I was mostly pulling this out of my a.s.s, and was frankly worried I sounded like a total t.o.s.s.e.r. But then Regina piped up and said, "Oh, yeah! It really is the same thing as writing a screenplay."

I smiled at her, grateful. "Anyway, you guys all have great voices." Obviously, I really only meant this about Gina, but I said it to Rodney and Kyle too, because I didn't want to be an a.s.shole. I sounded a little more sincere this time, but not by much.

"You really think so?" Rodney said.

"Oh, yeah!" I said, faking it again. "Totally."

"Thanks," he said, almost pathetically grateful.

"Yeah," Gina said. "Finding my voice sure has made a big difference to my career."

Gina didn't sound insecure like Rodney. She sounded p.i.s.sed.

No one said anything for a second.

"Gina's been a little discouraged lately," Regina said.

"Really?" Gina said to her. "What am I, nine?"

"I wasn't-" Regina protested.

"Just drop it, okay?"

Fortunately, the waitress came back right then with Gina's Red Hook and to take the rest of our orders.

After the waitress left, no one said anything for a second.

Then Kevin, smart enough to try changing the subject, said, "So what do guys think of Key and Peele?" These were two comedians who had a TV show that Kevin and I liked a lot, especially their reoccurring "Obama anger translator" bit.

"They're great," Kyle said, and everyone nodded.

We all relaxed a little in our seats. The subject had officially been changed!

"They're sketch comedians," Gina said, sucking down her beer. "That's not stand-up."

We all tensed again. Gina may have killed on stage tonight, but she also had a habit of killing conversations.

"So who do you guys like?" I said. "Comedians, I mean."

"Louis CK is brilliant," Kyle said. "Aziz Ansari."

"Chris Rock," Rodney said. "Affion Crockett."

"What do you guys think of Kathy Griffin?" I said.

"She doesn't tell jokes," Gina said, drinking again. "She tells stories."

That's the whole point, I thought. It was a different kind of comedy. She'd written all about it in her autobiography - how, at one of the lowest points in her career, she reinvented herself over and over until she finally found a way to connect with the audience. But I didn't have the nerve to mention any of this to Gina.

"And lately, she tells those f.u.c.king boring stories about reality TV stars," Gina said.

"Yeah," I said, trying to find common ground. "It does seem like she's dumbed it down lately. Her act used to be about making fun of the whole idea of 'celebrity' - how self-important it all is. But now it seems like all she wants to do is gossip."

No one said anything.

"Do you guys think about that?" I said. "Trying to, like, make a point with your comedy? Or is the only thing that matters making the audience laugh?"

As soon as I said it, I realized this was a stupid question. With Gina in such a foul mood because that booking agent didn't show, I should have tried to steer the conversation away from comedy completely.

"I don't think about any of that," Kyle said, unsure. "I just tell jokes."

"Yeah," Rodney said. "You just wanna make people laugh."

It didn't surprise me that neither of them had thought about what I'd said. It was part of the reason why their acts stank (but only part of it). But it was obvious that Gina must have given this some real thought, so I was actually kinda sorta curious to hear what she had to say.