"... there are shoulders inside my vagina..."
Depression, Post and Pre, August 1, 2006
It's huge.
Kilbaby affects the way I walk, move. My boobs are out of control. I stopped running and started elliptical-ling. I sit with my legs spread like a whore so my belly can uncurl like Buddha's. I'm so tired, and of course, it's fucking hot. Three more months to go. Then I can relax with an infant!
I'm disgusting.
The pre-partum depression combined with a post-Montreal depression has really left me wasted. No matter how good Montreal is, afterwards your life is just about exactly the same except you have a cool new entry on your resume.
My sets were uneven, but good. The audiences were fairly conservative and if I'd done some easier material, I could've killed. The Masters shows were in a Russian neighborhood. If the longtime Reader knows anything at all, it's that I have Russian jokes. It hurt not to do them.
Hurt. But I was brought there for the cynical baby jokes, and I did 'em. One made the "best jokes" section of Monday's Montreal Gazette.
So there.
I didn't see many shows at Montreal but my favorite was
Billy the Mime. Billy shows a placard that lists the topic, like"The Abortion," and then he mimes it. Among other things, he mimed 9/11, Terri Schaivo, and the Life and Death of JFK Jr. You were either laughing or saying, "oh my God." The most breathtaking was "Altar Boy and the Priest." It was worse and better than you can imagine. Some asshole sitting behind us would cry out, "No!" every time Billy brought out another placard.
At the short filrm festival, El B and I almost fast forwarded past the funniest short. It was less than two minutes long, starring a real wood spider, and after fifteen seconds of setup, it was non-stop, accelerating laughs. The filmmaker moved so quick that you didn't have a chance to even guess at what the next line would be. It's a great feeling to laugh so hard. I spend alot of time watching comedy, not laughing, saying, "that's funny."
Every so often, I realize there are shoulders inside my vagina. Nothing else about the baby's presence bothers me- its head, penis, legs and arms are no big deal. But a whole pair of shoulders is weird.
I'm taping a set for a Showtime series on Wednesday- it's called White Boys in the Hood. The premise of the show is white comics performing for an urban audience. I'll be starting my seventh month of pregnancy and I'm not married to my baby's daddy yet, which is all very urban of me.
Daily Comedy officially launches that night with a party at the Comic Strip, and Best Week Ever is having their 100th episode wrap party. All the good shit is happening on one overheated Wednesday in August.
