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In my last blog I talked about how I love to tell people I’m a comic, even if I haven’t had a gig in months. I’m not sure if they are intrigued, envious, or amazed that an old gal like me is still pursuing the stage. (I also told what I hate about being a comic. Take a look back.)

I love being around other comics and sharing our horror stories of hecklers, faulty sound systems, and audiences of three or four people. Comics have got to have thick skin because they take a gamble every time they step on stage.

But when the audience “gets you” and they are “with you” and everything works just right, there is nothing more satisfying than raucous contagious group laughter. Those times when the audience is so in tune with you that they can hardly wait for you to hit the next punch line. That’s what I love about being a standup comic.

It’s like finally getting it right. And I bask in that high that goes with bringing the audience joy and laughter and forgetting all the darkness in the world. I bask in it because when it’s over, it’s over and I can only hope and pray that I can make it happen again some day. Or will tomorrow night be the night that only 3 people show up, or the guys in the back are celebrating a birthday and have no idea there is a comedy show going on, or the 10 minutes you were promised turns into 3 because another comic went over their time (ran the clock).

Something just keeps calling me back to do it again. Like a golfer who knows the challenge of getting that little white ball to go in the hole, the comic just keeps hoping to hit a hole in one with that perfect act that makes people slap their knees, dip their heads, and wipe their tears away. That’s what I love about being a comic.

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