“Dickblowers”: Worst Comedy Club Ever.
Every now and again somebody will ask what my worst road story is, and I tell them about the time I once performed at a show, got paid afterward, went to the hotel and left the next day. That’s probably my worst road story because of how lame it is.
Then there’s others who ask what my worst gig was or what’s the worst club I’ve ever worked for. Well they’re both one and the same. “Dickblowers” in my uncle’s basement. Worst club ever, worst gig ever! No emcee, awful lighting, no sound system, but that’s not even the worst of it…
First off, the booker/my uncle makes you perform practically naked, which I am not entirely against, but at least let me know in advance so I can get in better shape, or at least trim my pubes before the gig. Well, ok, admittedly I hadn’t really grown pubes yet at the time, but you know what I’m saying. If you knew you were going to perform naked you’d make some effort to make yourself look somewhat more presentable – get a pedicure or something. Which gets me to complaint number two…what’s up with the booker painting your toenails in the green room? And why does he paint one foot a different color from the other? And why does he insist on braiding your hair into piggy-tails?
By the way, I use the term “green room” loosely. Yeah, it’s equipped with a toilet, sink, and heart-shaped jacuzzi, but that’s all there is! There’s nowhere to sit, outside of the toilet. Hell, the room’s so small you couldn’t fit a sofa in there even if you had one. So you’re just standing there naked while he paints your toenails. And not to dwell too much on the naked thing, but does he have to be naked too?
I’ll give you one guess how many people showed up for the show. If you guessed 23, you’re 23 people over. NOBODY showed up for the gig. Now a reputable booker/club manager would’ve canceled the gig, right? Well no such luck here, I ended up having to perform with my uncle as the sole member of the audience.
I couldn’t even do my regular shit. It’s bad enough when a booker censors you and tells you what material you can’t do, but it’s the worst when the booker not only tells you what you Can do, but what you Have To do. Needless to say, pigtails lambada in a tutu comedy isn’t my forté. I tried to make the best of it though, and in my defense, I will say that the sole audience member (my uncle/booker/manager) appeared to be very into the show all throughout. He didn’t laugh much, but you could tell he was excited. Perhaps too much so. Quite literally.
So after 45 minutes of this shit the show is finally over, I get off the stage/coffee table, and to top things off the booker stiffs me. And as if that wasn’t bad enough he also has the nerve to threaten not to pay me. In his words I was contractually obligated to perform an “encore”. Well I’m not gonna get into the details of what the “encore” entailed, but yeah, “Dickblowers”? more like… well, no, actually “Dickblowers” is pretty accurate.
I hope this serves as a warning to all the comics out there. Avoid this Gig at All Costs! It’s not worth the candy!
(Originally Posted 7/2/08)