Do Not Come See Me at the DC Improv Lounge Tonight

It’s not that it won’t be funny. Dear God no. It will be amazing comedy-wise. Keith Irvin, Damone Miller, Kojo Mante, Brian Parise, Matt Sapsford, and Lisa Fine are all great, hilarious comics from the D.C. scene. If you want to come to laugh, then by all means check it out. It’s not that.

In all honesty, I’m really worried that an orgy is going to break out.

The sheer talent and good looks of the above-mentioned performers will be too much for any audience to resist. I would be shocked if at some point you don’t see the crowd move to the stage, as one, and romance whoever is performing at the moment. This is dangerous. The DC Improv Lounge is a fine room in a great venue, but it was not made to withstand a 75 person sex party. What room is?

The sucky thing for me is that I have to go to the show no matter what. I can’t back out like you and say I’m washing my hair. Nope. I have to go show off my incredible wit and movie-star good looks in front of a throng of comedy-starved patrons just waiting to have a 50-way. I’m not trying to say I’m too good for anybody, but I just want to tell some jokes and have a good time. I’m in no mood for a giant bangfest. I didn’t even buy a poncho.

I’m not trying to be rude. It’s just that a lot of my friends and family will be at the show, and I don’t want to embarrass them. If you’d like to come up to me after the show, great. If you want to shake my hand and tell me I did a good job, even better. But when we start to have problems is when you try to proposition to meet your wife and “family friend” while slipping me a glass of wine with a pill in it. Sorry, Chachi. I’m better than that.

The other thing is this: what if I have to go last? By that point, all the other comics will have done their thing and amazed the audience into a horny stupor. The last thing I want to perform in front of is a giant fuck mob. I can see it now: me, onstage, wearing a yellow slicker and hat, trying to crack some jokes about the airlines while Keith Irvin fists a couple of tourists from Minnesota who couldn’t get tickets for Bill Burr.

I don’t like to make guarantees, fans of D.C. comedy, I promise you this: what will start as a comedy show with a great lineup will end as a sloppy, disheveled nightmare of an orgy. If you do decide to come, at least bring a covered dish. There’s an old saying my mama taught me: if you’re going to have an orgy, might as well make it a potluck orgy.

Oh and also: while I was writing this I just figured out the show is sold out. My bad. To make up for it, here is a picture of Justin Tuck pwning Brady:

Goodday sir.


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