Oh Where, Oh Where Has My Funny Bone Gone?
As of Monday night the clock has officially started ticking, counting down the hours until The Moment I Have To Get Up On Stage In Front Of Hundreds Of People And BE FUNNY! (Otherwise known as March 26th.) On this day I will take the stage at The Punchline and perform a 4-minute routine I’ve created, and hope against hope that the nice people in the audience will at least pretend that they think I’m as funny as I do.
All of which is great, except that seriously? I have never felt less funny in my entire life. I have to write one joke for next week’s class-one!-and it’s as if some external invading force has leached all of The Funny out of my bones and replaced it with Humor Kryptonite.
Every idea I have is immediately smacked down by my internal White Hot Hammer Of “I cannot believe you think that’s funny!”
I open my mouth to speak, and instead of words, giant slimy slugs tumble out, which I guess is nice in that it saves my tender, precious words the trouble of being born into this cruel, cruel world, and then shriveling up and dying a painful, humor-less death.
I go to the keyboard to type and from my fingers fall huge lead weights, each one burdened by the weight of all my Un-Funny Ideas.
It could be a really long six weeks.
So…how was your day?