Last night’s Gotham show.

The Gotham show last night went well enough. My throat is still not feeling 100% better so it was good to know that I could perform a set and not get booed off when I’m not feeling my very best physically. It’s also good to know that getting a tonsillectomy can provide about 10 minutes of material. I wonder if other surgeries would provide as much. Does my appendix look frail to anyone else?

One joke that completely didn’t fly was when I said that I felt bad for the germs that used to live and work in my tonsils because they are now homeless and jobless. And they can only collect unemployment for six months before they have to find another organ to infect. I thought that was pretty damn funny when I wrote it but it bombed on stage. I have no idea why. That’s comic gold! Germs aren’t people!

Anyway, here is a picture of my stage hand. For new material open mics, I bring my little note pad on stage but for shows, I write my notes on my hand as I was taught at my first Gotham appearance. It’s a cheat sheet and my security blanket. And I think it looks sexy.

The Baby Shower.

My younger cousin is about to give birth to the first baby of the next generation on my Mom’s side of the family. Very exciting times, indeed. Seems that the rest of us cousins are either too bitter, too busy, or too gay to reproduce.

This is what lead me to look for baby clothes. I don’t care much for babies but I love baby clothes. I love anything that’s a miniature version of something else. I go gaga for kittens, sake cups, tiny salt shakers, clementines, those little liquor bottles from a mini bar, the tiny etch-a-sketch key chain I used to have, and the full deck of playing cards the size of a matchbook. You get the idea. So, while the idea of producing an heir from my loins repulses me, the idea of shopping for its tiny fashion needs is delightful.

I saw a strange shirt while I was shopping the other day. It was sized for a 6-9 month old and had a cute sparkly pattern with the words “I’m the birthday girl” written on the front. Now, I’m no expert, but isn’t it impossible for a 6-9 month old to actually be a birthday girl? Wouldn’t the only size that would make the shirt a truthful statement be for a 12 month old? Are we teaching 6-9 month olds to lie so soon in life?

Mind you, I’m no clothing nazi. You can wear Tuesday underwear on Saturday for all I care. But if you were the manufacturer of baby clothes, couldn’t you put something else, more truthful, on the front of a shirt for 6-9 month olds? Something chronologically non-specific like “I’m a friggin’ baby” or “I can’t help but crap myself” or “No blood for oil.” Something that will be true for at least a few years.

A 7 month old girl wearing a shirt that claims it’s her birthday? What’s next? A 2 year old claiming to be 3 to get the student discounts? Where does it end? Get with the program, baby clothing manufacturers.

(And come see me at Gotham on March 25th!)

Whycome a new website, Carrie Gravenson?

My dream is to pay the rent with my personality. People would describe me a lot of ways but most of them would agree that I have a razor sharp wit. When I’m searching my soul for a way to make a living and still be true to myself, comedy seems to be the only way I can accomplish that. It’s taken me many years to decide this. Many years of waiting for the self confidence to kick in and make it real. Many wasted years. (Or years developing material, depending on how you look at it.)

Monday, February 11th was my first performance at Gotham Comedy Club. I packed the room with friends and gave it my all. I had practiced hard at home and at various open mics around the city but it was still my first full crowd at a real comedy club. It was like a drug. I scribbled my notes on my hand and I hoped for the best. And it worked. The audience was amazing and I got lots of laughs. I went over my time because laughter takes time. It was the thrill of a lifetime and when it was over, I had the feeling that it was only the beginning.

At the end of the show, some guys in suits asked me if I had a website. The answer was not really. I have a website for my business and a blog for my secret identity but none for me, Carrie Gravenson, the budding comedian. So this blog is for you, strange men in suits. I hope you were talent scouts or rich men who need an heiress or publishers looking for the hot new writer.

I’ll put my upcoming shows at the top and post other information around the site. I’ll post observations about the comedy world and ask opinions about possible jokes. I’ll write my musings on trying to make this comedy thing work for me. I just bought a new camcorder and as soon as I figure out how to use it, I will post clips of myself being hilarious. When I get paid for it, I’ll scan and post the dollar bills that were shoved in my panties.

It’s going to be a wild ride.