Chapter 10- Let Me See You Twirl

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It was hard to believe my Ford Festiva was surviving Ontario winters, but it was. As a broke 21 year old girl, I believed oil changes were a luxury, possibly even a myth. I was more focused on the price of gas. My dad used to tell me to go to Chevron, but considering he was on the other side of the country and I didn’t have his gas card anymore (Reality Bites style*) he’d never know. He also approved of Petro-Canada but I still filled up at Mr. Gas.

As a young comic, having a car made you very workable. You’d be surprised how many comedians in Ontario don’t have cars. Sure mine probably classified as a golf cart, but the lightening bolt on the door and the saggy muffler made it quite recognizable if you were waiting for me to pick you up. 

And speaking of my dad, I had a new opener that was going quite well.

“My dad just confessed to going to the strip club… he was very honest about it, “Christina, just so you know, I didn’t like it, I’d rather use my imagination and I’m not going back. I just went there to sell a car.” I was like, “Wow…. Thank god I wasn’t working that night. Mom must have been in the champagne room.”

I soon came to hate that joke, cuz obvi the punchline wasn’t true. The premise was though. I wanted my material to be honest.  But it kept working, so I kept doing it.

Especially since I needed the time for all the road work I was getting. Me and my comedian bff Jen Grant were booked to play Barrie, Ontario. Our careers were finally starting to take off. 

We had a strong young road comic game plan. We’d drive four and a half hours to Toronto, stay on Jen’s friend’s pull out couch in High Park, then drive an hour to Barrie every night. (We had no friends north of Bloor Street at the time.) Since the Barrie club was just Thursday-Saturday, we got spots on the Wednesday night show at Yuk Yuk’s at Yonge and Eglinton. There was an all women’s show sponsored by a fruity lube, something that actually would have been more practical for an all-male show in hindsight.

The Toronto comedy scene was stacked with strong female comics. They had four… maybe five. Very progressive. Kristeen Von Hagen, Laurie Elliot, Martha Chaves, and headlining was Jessica Holmes. Being in Toronto felt kind of big time. My stomach starts to get in knots as Blitzkrieg Bop plays.

There was one table in the corner you couldn’t sit at, cuz that was reserved for the owner. But there was one beside it, where comics would sit. Since it was an all female line up, I guess the male comics who showed up were just browsing. A guy who I’d seen on CBC’s “Comics” sat next to me. He smelled quite “earthy” but was very cool and friendly. I told him my favourite joke of his to confirm it was him.

“You have that joke that goes, “I’m a depressed narcissist… Basically what that means is I wake up every morning and think  “What’s the point?” Then I look in the mirror and go “Oh yahhhh….”

Hahaha! Still makes me laugh as I write it. That comic is obviously the amazing Alan Park. Being in Toronto was exciting. It’s one of those cities that everyone else in the country hates. And thus, I’m attracted to it. 

The show was amazing. I met the owner who I got invited into the office with. He told me I should move to Toronto. I said “Totally!” This seemed like the place to be. Then I asked him where exactly Barrie was.

The next night, we drove up the 400 to our glamorous franchise Yuk Yuks. Downtown Barrie is actually quite cute. Looks fun, has energy. But that’s not where the comedy club is. It’s in a more industrial part of town beside a 24 hour gym. Because if there’s two things that belong side by side, it’s a comedy club and a gym.

For what Canada might lack with a low glass ceiling, the Barrie Yuk Yuk’s made up for it’s very high actual ceilings. It felt like performing in a dimly lit school gymnasium.

But what happens on stage almost doesn’t really count sometimes. Comics, when given proper green rooms, will barely even check out the show until they’re about to go on stage. So that creepy room with jizzy couches in the back of the club is where most of my weekend is actually happening.

I feel bad saying I forget the host. That seems like something that still holds up. I remember the headliner though. Big guy who wore a wrestling belt. Very elegant, as you can imagine. He might have been seasoned on staged, dealing with audiences, but he definitely seemed new to working with female comedians. 

When you walk into a green room, there can often be this aura of arrogance to one comic sitting on the couch. I truly don’t think there are that many headliners of this nature in Canada, because we each typically have two very barely scene tv credits, so the ego never gets that big. But once in a while…

You encounter a man who’s confidence is something you wish you had in high school. Only less creepy. 

He sat on the couch in a green room like he was Santa Claus. It looked like he expected us to sit on his leg every time we walked in the room. I’m acting like I saw through this at the time, but the truth is…

I didn’t.

It was always responsible to get to the club early, (this club was known to doc your pay if you didn’t) you end up having quite the pre-show hang. Me and Jen sit on one couch as the headliner sprawls on the other (in modern day we’d say “manspread.”)

Then he says, 

“Why don’t you two girls get up and twirl for me. Show me what you got…”

I awkwardly get up, do a 360, and sit back down.

But Jen has a different reaction.

“If you think I am going to twirl for you, you better think again. As if I would do that!?!? Who do you think you are?”

Oh ya, that’s what I meant to say.

FUUUUUUUCK!

Why did I do that?

Is it too late to change my mind? I didn’t know we were allowed to be assertive. Part of me calmed myself down thinking “I’m wearing my Silver jeans. They’re baggy. He didn’t really see much.” 

This moment haunts me to this day. Why was I so complacent? How can one woman say,

“Go fuck yourself!”

And I go,

“Okey dokey! No problem!” 

It didn’t help that this man seemed to kill on stage. For what comics lack in their off stage etiquette, they sure do make up for on stage. It kind of makes you let it go. Maybe if he bombed I would never have gotten up and twirled.

The idea of boundaries is huge today, but back then when I heard the word I just thought of Boundary Road in Vancouver. 

But here’s the great part of road comedy. You can always pray you never work with that comic again.

OR… 

You can grow some balls.

Guess which one came first?

(Here’s a pic of me and Jen on a couch during happier times. Really quite bummed I don’t have a lot of photos of my early years in comedy. Obvi new comics will have 8758439784758389 of them.)

*I really did the Lelaina Pierce gas card move as a teenager, but I ONLY filled my Aunty Marion’s car. We’d put all the gas on my dad’s card, then she’d pay me cash half of the actual cost. She got half price gas, I got free money. A win-win scam for both of us. This is why I don’t add my family on social media. These stories can’t come out. My dad might sue his sister. 

Chapter 8: Comedy Before The “Women Support Women” Movement

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I recently saw a friend promoting a fellow woman’s new comedy album. I slid into her DM’s right away.

“I’m excited to check it out! How is it?”

Then she confessed she hadn’t actually listened to it. This is a pretty amazing development. Women just support each other now? You don’t ask 82 people to make sure it’s okay to ally yourself with this person? Do you mean to tell me you’ve never had a drink thrown on your back by another woman before? Things have changed.

So let’s go back in time. I started comedy in the late 90’s. The Spice Girls roared girl power! Then broke up. There were a ton of prominent women fighting with each other: Linda Tripp & Monica Lewinsky, Nancy Kerrigan & Tonya Harding, meanwhile I’m walking around town reading Amy Fisher’s “My Story.” (It was in paperback by this point, so it was cheaper. Don’t forget books are more expensive in Canada.) It seemed as though all the Blossom and Six friendships had disappeared. 

For the most part, I was lucky. A year into doing comedy, Jen Grant entered the Ottawa comedy scene. She not only looked like my sister, but to this day is still like one. Wendi Reed, Andrea Jenson- both so kind and funny as well. There were so few female comedians, we just naturally came together. Andrea had a great joke about how cigarette wrappers could also be used as Barbie police tape. The joke always worked, cuz back then only losers didn’t smoke. Wendi had a joke about how great Jaws is, cuz he eats hot skinny chicks. I always loved watching them.

But then there were other women…

Ones that seemed to have no patience for other female comics. 

Howard was always progressive, putting on all women comedy line ups. I didn’t really understand how special they were at the time, but I do now.  The shows would get promoted in local papers with a headline like:

“Chicks Ahoy!”

(True story. I have the paper somewhere.)

And most of these shows were a positive thing but there were a few…

That made me feel like a piece of shit.

I was officially “split middling” as we called it in the motherland. Me and another comic splitting the time of the middle, or “feature” as Americans call it. The headliner was amazing, having worked on the Ellen DeGeneres Show, and the host was a woman from Toronto. She was confident, did well with the audiences, but made the green room an uncomfortable nightmare. My fellow split middler was new at the time, just like me, but I assure you she’s a monster in Canadian comedy today. Our host was determined to make us uncomfortable before we got on stage.

“Do you have a GUY who loves you?”

Split middle girl:

“Uhhh, my dad.”

It was a good answer, considering the host’s day job was stripping.

She introduced Margaret Smith as “Maggy Smith,” who is actually a different actress altogether, so that didn’t go over well.

I was still pretty new to getting weekend spots, but I was doing well and was feeling good about myself. But this particular weekend threw my confidence in reverse. I got intros like:

(The host on stage, with a worried face.)

“Your next comic coming to the stage…. (sucking in spit) she’s REALLY new to doing stand up, but she tries hard, and she keeps getting better and better every time she gets up here, so I think we should really make her feel like she belongs on the stage. Let’s make some noise for… Christina… Walk….in….shaw?!”

Taking the stage felt like walking through Planned Parenthood. Everybody in the room clearly thought the worst of me. I had friends in the crowd, and after the show they were pissed.

“I did NOT like the way that host brought you on to the stage. It made you sound like a Make A Wish kid.”

It did have that kind of vibe. And that’s not even the worst intro I got back then. Another female comic intro’d me with: 

“This next comic coming to the stage could teach me how to lose a pound or two… and I could teach her how to tell a joke. Please welcome to the stage, Christina Walkinshaw.”

You know, “Women Supporting Women” stuff.

At the time you just tell yourself,

“This must just be how comedians treat each other…” 

But a dirty part of you thinks,

“The male comics are so much nicer…”

(We’ll find out why later!)

I asked a few friends my age if they had any experiences like this and all two of them did.  

“I showcased for a female comic’s talk show and SHE heckled me.”

“I opened for a female comic and had an amazing set. When I came off stage she said, “This crowd must be really dumb.” A few days later I saw her again, and she said, “I broke up with that guy I was dating at the show. He kept saying how funny you were.”

In retrospect, I wonder if the surge of more women in comedy effected some female comics. Maybe it was fun to be the only chick in a boys club. But with more women on the scene, that attention you were used to being solely yours started getting divided. Maybe that annoyed you, or jilted your ego, as it might a male comic. I can admit I loved being the only girl watching Monday night RAW with a bunch of Ottawa stoners. (And just like comedy, more women got into wrestling.)

I’ve never been good at standing up to bullies, or anyone who makes me feel uncomfortable. But once in a while, somebody else stands up to that shitty person, and a smile beams across your face like an old school episode of Desperate Housewives. Like this anecdote:

I wasn’t at this particular show, but I heard about it. That host who rubbed the entire lineup the wrong way was performing back in the Toronto area. She had a bit where she threw a line to the crowd as she played guitar:

“Quick! I need a word that rhymes with fellatio!”

From the back of the room, another comic yells,

“Get off the stage-eeoo!”

That comic was Ian Sirota. Apparently she was a dick to him too. At least she didn’t discriminate. She was mean to all genders. And while I’m sure bullying a bully is not today’s #1 form of problem solving, I can tell you this story still puts a smile on my face. Sorry, but that’s just how we did things in the 90’s.

I’ve always done my best to be supportive of new comics. I never want to make them feel as uncomfortable as some people made me feel. Plus there’s a good chance most of them are gonna pass me success wise anyway. Can’t wait to ask them all for jobs.

I hope all this “women supporting women” culture is real. It could just be a trend some people post in support of, but don’t truly feel. On a dark day, I can’t help but wonder which female comics mock or even hate me… I know that’s blatant insecurity, but guess what?

I keep putting myself out there anyway. 

(I shouldn’t write a whole blog about women who were dicks to me then tag it with, “And now here’s a pic of me and Jen Grant!” She’s the best and we’ve been family since the beginning.)