Big in New Hampshire

We have to buy land in New Hampshire. That's where I am the funniest. There are at least 1700 people there who think I am hilarious. I now have 5 minutes of material purely on New Hampshire. I don't think those 'Man of the Mountain' jokes are going to work anywhere else.

My roadtrip with the divine Miss L (pas deux) was spectacular. Great theater, great night and a self-pleasuring audience. Honestly, I think I could have pulled out a snowman in a wagon and they would have laughed their butts off!

When I listened to the audio tape I made of the set, I heard myself actually stepping on laughter to deliver the punch lines. They were guffawing so mightily at the set-ups, I almost had to ask them to simmer down so I could get the punchlines out. May that be my biggest comedy problem! I'll never get an audience like this again ...

So now I'm the David Hasslehoff of New England comedy. Still struggling in Massachusetts ... but boy they love me in New Hampshire!

The entire experience was delieriously wonderful & stood in stark contrast to the comedy week I was experiencing closer to home.

A good friend and fellow mom-comic aka 'momic' in town was hosting a charity benefit for a local youth organization. She and I are pretty tight, having been writing partners, fellow competition contestants, and performers in a local comedy line-up we jokingly refer to as the "comedy all-stars" since four or five of us seem to perform so often on all the same shows that we should rent a little bus and come out like the Harlem Globetrotters.

I first found out about this local benefit while attending this momic's 40th birthday party. I saw a poster for the show in the club and a partial list of comedians. I had a little thud in my chest when I didn't see my name, but quickly rationalized that you need to mix up the line-ups now & then so the shows don't get stale for the audience. I pushed myself back to a happy place and continued to celebrate.

Then things started to get a little funky. Every time I saw subsets of our "All-Star" group, everyone was talking about the show in front of me, as if I knew all about it and had opted out. My momic friend never mentioned the show to me directly or asked me to be a part of it. I just sort of ignored it and played along.

The week before the show there was a big article in the paper and when I saw all the comics listed ... I saw that I was the ONLY comic that fell off the "All-Star" bus ... they only left little Medowlark Lemon behind :( .... there went my 'mixing it up' rationalization.

Just as I was headed out for a Doctor's appointment one of the other comics I have been writing with sent me an email suggesting we get together and do some writing that Saturday afternoon since she had to "be in my town anyway" for a show that night. THAT show ... thanks for reminding me. I literally groaned out loud.

Then ... like herald trumpets from above ... I checked my Blackberry in the Doctor's waiting room only to find a message from the Divine Miss L.
"I think you are a fabulous woman. Would you like to open for me again this Saturday in New Hampshire? The limo can pick you up at 4."

I think my answer began a little something like "Hot diggity dog!" About this, I do not exaggerate.

How delighted was I to politely decline the writing session because something wonderful had 'come up'! I was absolutely thrilled and tickled pink that Miss L. had been so happy with last week's performance that she invited me back.

It was like getting a free ticket to go back on the thrill ride again and I could even get some more mileage about of my New Hampshire jokes. Had the gig been in Rhode Island ... I'd have been sunk!

Everything happens for a reason, so they say. And, if I had previously committed to the charity benefit -- I would have had to say "no" to Miss L. This would have been devestating for so many reasons. We had great mentoring time together and her brand of inspirational comedy is giving me a whole new path to consider, away from the bar circuit.

Even though I was thrilled with the outcome, I had repeated pangs of feeling left-out when I saw the local event advertised all over town. There was a flyer from school in my son's back-pack, the car wash had the show advertised on their sign and my husband teased that the School Superintendant had left a town-wide voicemail on our phone encouraging everyone to come out to the "SueB-free comedy night."

I'm trying to be less conflict averse in my middle-age, so I finally got up the gumption to call my momic-friend on Sunday to hear about the show, congratulate her and ask the awkward question: "Was there any specific reason she didn't ask me to be on the show?"

"No" she replied. "No reason." "I just felt bad asking people to do a free show."
"Please don't ever feel bad asking me to work a benefit. I'd love to do it." I replied. I thought she would know this about me.

I don't know if that was the real reason -- given everyone else's participation. I have a feeling its something more complicated and maybe even subconcious. There wasn't an obvious "thing" though and that made me feel better.

We comics are a complicated group. The drive to connect, entertain and express is intertwined with a need to feel needed, validated and even loved. We're quirky that way. I don't know if I'll ever know the "real deal" or if there was one.

Heck, I had a hell of a swell gig at one of my biggest venues ever, quality time with a wonderful mentor, and my momic offered me a paying "guilt gig" on a show for her this summer. That sounds like a win/win/win to me.

And if it ever gets too "chilly" here in MA ... I'll always have New Hampshire.