WOW Tattoo
My last post was about how soul crushing the Festival has been, this one is about what a properly great time I am having doing The Wrong Show and The After Party. A man said my face looks like his mother's vagina. A woman pulled down her pants to reveal great big fucking capital letter W's tattooed on her buttocks. This same woman was the best racist I've met in ages. Some shitfuck hecklers dropped 50 bucks on the ground so me and me mate picked it up and went to the Golden Tower to spend it all on booze and fried food.
The spots at The After Party have been a delight. You just have to know how to handle that room. Last year I got into an argument with three drunk women just before I did my spot and went on to do nothing but crumble into ash. That year I begged awful bogan men to fuck me in the arse and bellowed at others to shut the fuck up. About halfway through the festival I cracked the code and started doing proper comedy.
I'm not sure why now, but I wasn't planning to do the Exford this year, but I need to for flyering reasons and to get myself on fire for a spot at Hi-Fi next week, which is the festival club and sort of the place to be seen kicking in dicks. The Exford is also fun to do, I was reminded on Thursday as Tim Hewitt smashed the audience's face in. Soon as I saw that I was all in. It's like tasting blood, which as we all know is delicious.
Last night a very loud little man talked very loudly through the show, completely unaware a show was happening. No one felt like bullying a man with dwarfism so he was allowed to burble on mindlessly. Exactly the same thing happened last year. I am not lying. The racist ass woman was with a big bunch of mums who, "Fucked the kids off and now we're running amok." I tried to get them to come to the Exford to create chaos but turns out they'd been kicked out of there earlier. I wanted those crazy bitches in my life.
One comic seems to be on a mission to kill himself with beer and another thanked me for the advice, "Or go be a person instead", when he ran a particularly fucked up late night option past me.
Flyering is mental. I stand there smiling at people and say, "Hello! I am very funny!" and offer a flier. This is not getting people to the show, but I like saying stupid shit to randoms, so that's a thing. Apparently I am supposed to be engaging in conversation with these people but I reckon I'll let myself warm up and bubble over naturally. You can't just take an introvert and tell him to engage warmly like a human, that's madness.
I basically walk from one place to the next and talk about what just happened on the way there. Saturday I went to the Hi Fi bar to experience the weirdest scene Melbourne comedy has to offer. I don't remember much of that which is possibly for the best.
In the middle of all this is this year's controversy, where a whole lot of people are being drawn into an incredibly bloody battle over free speech. Fucking hell.
Tickets to Two Bearded Ladies
The spots at The After Party have been a delight. You just have to know how to handle that room. Last year I got into an argument with three drunk women just before I did my spot and went on to do nothing but crumble into ash. That year I begged awful bogan men to fuck me in the arse and bellowed at others to shut the fuck up. About halfway through the festival I cracked the code and started doing proper comedy.
I'm not sure why now, but I wasn't planning to do the Exford this year, but I need to for flyering reasons and to get myself on fire for a spot at Hi-Fi next week, which is the festival club and sort of the place to be seen kicking in dicks. The Exford is also fun to do, I was reminded on Thursday as Tim Hewitt smashed the audience's face in. Soon as I saw that I was all in. It's like tasting blood, which as we all know is delicious.
Last night a very loud little man talked very loudly through the show, completely unaware a show was happening. No one felt like bullying a man with dwarfism so he was allowed to burble on mindlessly. Exactly the same thing happened last year. I am not lying. The racist ass woman was with a big bunch of mums who, "Fucked the kids off and now we're running amok." I tried to get them to come to the Exford to create chaos but turns out they'd been kicked out of there earlier. I wanted those crazy bitches in my life.
One comic seems to be on a mission to kill himself with beer and another thanked me for the advice, "Or go be a person instead", when he ran a particularly fucked up late night option past me.
Flyering is mental. I stand there smiling at people and say, "Hello! I am very funny!" and offer a flier. This is not getting people to the show, but I like saying stupid shit to randoms, so that's a thing. Apparently I am supposed to be engaging in conversation with these people but I reckon I'll let myself warm up and bubble over naturally. You can't just take an introvert and tell him to engage warmly like a human, that's madness.
I basically walk from one place to the next and talk about what just happened on the way there. Saturday I went to the Hi Fi bar to experience the weirdest scene Melbourne comedy has to offer. I don't remember much of that which is possibly for the best.
In the middle of all this is this year's controversy, where a whole lot of people are being drawn into an incredibly bloody battle over free speech. Fucking hell.
Tickets to Two Bearded Ladies
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