The Comedy Show

I smoke an American Spirit cigarette outside a comedy lounge in Central Phoenix and I say,

"Why is it that every white male between 18 and 30 has Catcher in the Rye on their top five books?"

Top Five is my new favorite past time in the office.

"I think you have to be a male to connect with it."  The Fanboy who sits directly behind me in the office says.  He collects comic books and has referred to himself as a "fanboy."  Fanboy is "a term used to describe a male who is highly devoted and biased in opinion towards a single subject or hobby within a given field."  Namely,  a dude obsessed with comic books and super heroes, villians shit like that.

"I don’t know though," He continues, "I really liked White Oleander."’

I laugh and then make fun of him because that book sucks.  Tech Guy says,

"It’s a great book, you shouldn’t shit on it."

The night is warm and muggy, like there’s a lake nearby even though there’s not.  The parking lot is just dirt, and you have to park at Wells Fargo to get inside the place.  People walk in and out, smoke sitting on curbs, we can see the buildings in the city in the distance.  The show is over and it’s late.  We go back inside and watch a band set up their equipment on stage until all of us leave, one by one. 

Earlier, I met Fanboy, Tech Guy and Portland Dude at the tiny lounge.  The Ruby Room is small, with dark red walls and a stage that has red streamers on the backdrop, like it’s Christmas or something.  If smoking wasn’t banned, there’d be shaking smoke in the air and cigarettes puffed around the room.  It has a nice feel to it, windowless and cozy, with dark colors and drab lighting around the tables.  A place where you could shoot a movie or meet a dude who wears his hair in his face and talks about how he likes guitar but his passion is bass. 

I show up at the same time as Tech Guy and we go inside and find Fanboy and Comedy Girl bullshitting at the bar.  Comedy Girl used to work in Fanboy and I’s office.  We’d joke about hookers and talk about feminism and the downfalls of drinking too much and vaginal discharge.  She since has been promoted.  She produces a comedy variety show here on the third Monday of every month.  In addition to this she’s done stand up throughout the valley and wrote her Master’s thesis on the art of stand up.  Really, Comedy Girl is fucking awesome.  She’s super thin, with short mousy brown hair and a sweet, low voice that reminds you of someone’s little sister instead of a foul mouthed comic.

Tech Guy and I find a table in the front corner right by the giant speakers.  Fanboy and I sit against the wall and Comedy Girl gets me a free vodka soda.  I’m stoked cause I’m fucking broke.  Portland Dude shows up and talks to Fanboy and I about the joys of unemployment and how Starbucks burns their coffee.  Portland Dude is tall with thin rimmed glasses and a receding hairline even though he’s only, like, 30.  He’s a little pompous but a good conversationalist.   He’s from Portland and brings it up a lot.

Like, "oh, well, yeah that’s cool, but back in Portland we did it this way…"
Or, "yeah that place has good Salmon but in Portland…"
Or, "I was going to kill her after I raped her, but then I found out she was from Portland…"

He has a wife who is that thing where you’re not yet a doctor but you work as a doctor.  He gives me a hug and I tell him that New Girl is boring and talks about her iPhone too much.  He orders a Newcastle.  Fanboy tells me about how he ordered a Michelob Ultra at the bar and the bartender told him they didn’t have any but he was starring right at them.  The second time he goes to the bar he still doesnt have the balls to point them out, he orders Bud Light instead.  Fanboy is about 23, my age, he has horn rimmed glasses, dark Jew hair, and a tattoo on his calf which looks like and represents a zombie attack.   

The four of us clink our various drinks together and cheers to our company.  We all talk about hating the pay, except for Tech Guy, who makes substantially more than us.  Tech Guy is tall and gangley, with long limbs, blue eyes and a "know-it-all" attitude.  He’s the IT guy for the company.  He fixes the computers when shit gets fucked up.  Anytime there is anything even remotely wrong with our computers Fanboy and I make it a point to send him extensive messages about how we "think it’s the drivers or maybe the cookies need to be deleted or the server has too much technical overhead."  He knows something about everything, corrects us when we’re wrong and orders a vodka tonic.

The show is awesome, funny, inspiring.  I win a Dale Earnhardt coloring book.  Comedy Girl gives us all a shout out during her comedy spot and does almost her entire set about working at the company.  She talks about editing articles on dog aromotherapy and we all laugh and laugh.  I feel happy, in the moment, at ease.  I laugh a lot and I genuinely dig the company.  After the show, Comedy Girl is kind of drunk, slurring a bit.  We all mingle.  She sits by me and tells me she wants me to write something for the show.  A short, she says, a monologue, whatever I want, she trusts me.  I say I don’t know, I freeze up on stage, I’m not a performer.  A dude comes over, hugs her, knocks her Stella over and it gets in my lap before she can encourage me. 

I think it’s a sign.

Portland Dude leaves first ’cause, you know, he’s married and married people always leave first.  Tech Guy, Comedy Girl and I sit at the bar as the crowd dispenses.  We talk about the short we’re trying to make, bad movies and work.  Fanboy hovers around us and then leaves, says the gf keeps calling.  I look at my phone, no calls or text messages.  The band is still setting up on stage, but I leave before they play.

I drive slow in Central Phoenix, head back to the East valley.  I think about what Comedy Girl said about doing something for her show, and write this entry in my head.

I like that I’ve made friends at work.  I dig Fanboy, I’m comfortable with him and he reminds me of a friend I’ve had for years.  They’re all interesting, funny, three dimensional characters like out of a Wes Anderson movie.  I go home, make a Lean Pocket and drink one of my roommate’s Sapparos.

The boyfriend and I are still broken up but we make up two nights later when I stand outside his driver side window and then kiss him to this really melodic One For The Team song that’s playing in his car.  My eyes get teary, and the whole thing feels sweaty and emotional.  We fuck finally, after a week or so.  He pulls my hair and I cum twice.    

I wanted to laugh that night, at the comedy show, forget about the perpetual tension and my emotional confusion and the discussions about relationship ethics.  I realized, sitting around a group of people I enjoy, that the reason I survive on the low pay and the tedious articles is because of them, and because we laugh all the time.  We play Top Five Ways to Kill a Hooker and send each other websites about fat women in hats and wikipedia pages on "cat fights."  It makes my day comfortable and bearable.  I laugh when Fanboy spits out his Lean Cuisine turkey dinner and talks about beating his girlfriend for making him eat portion controlled food.  I laugh when Comedy Girl sends me websites about senior citizen hairstyles and when Tech Guy bitches about the rap music blaring in the sales department.

I laugh because there’s nothing else to do when work is menial and life is sort of dramatic like Desperate Housewives except no one is as pretty and also my boobs are kind of small.  But when I think about it, those shows, like everything else, are still more funny than anything.  I laugh today, giggle slightly, when I look down at the date on my cell phone; the 18th.  Funny, I think, shaking me head, I don’t think I’ve ever been this late before.