Chapter 21: Savior of the Week

As it turns out, it was VERY hard to make people go see Craig Kilborn. When I showed up to the bar at Islands for what I thought was going to be epic payday I was shocked that I only made $90. My first thought was,

Ninety isn’t even divisible by 12…

I’m good at math. 

This money doesn’t make any sense. And def not worth the risk of full blown skin cancer standing on the boardwalk all day. Although I was also trying to get people to see pilot tapings, which gave me PTSD to a hideous show me and my family once got dragged into seeing. I was sold cuz the guy from The Cutting Edge was in it. (D.B. Sweeney, baby!) But it turned into a hostage situation fast. Some how this half hour sitcom was taking four hours to tape. It was a struggle to even go to the bathroom, which is a huge deal breaker in my family. 

I needed a new plan. 

(I seemed to “need a new plan” every week.) 

I kept using the pay phone in the hostel to attempt to reach Shaun Majumder. When he finally picked up the phone I was so excited. 

“WALK-IN-SHAW!”

It always amazes me when people flock to my not so easy to remember last name, as opposed to Christina- which nobody ever remembers either, so I don’t know why I’m bringing it up.

We plan a cool night in West Hollywood for Natasha’s 21st birthday. Natasha and I take the bus, because as you know from my passion for recycling, I’m also eco-friendly. (Broke.)

There’s a bus along Santa Monica Blvd that takes us straight to place we’re going for dinner with Shaun. As a girl who listened to Sheryl Crow’s “Tuesday Night Music Club” on repeat in high school, I couldn’t help but stare out the window looking for the bar that faces the giant car wash.

We head into town a little early, and hop off the bus a little after passing through Beverly Hills. There seemed to be a lot of bars in this area, so it might be perfect for happy hour.

We spot a cool looking patio just off the main drag on Robertson and decide to wander in. I hit the bathroom first thing (again, it’s a Walkinshaw thing.) I notice a man walk out of the women’s bathroom. Ohhhh this place is fun already. Then I hit the bar to buy a round.

“Hi! I’ll have two apple martinis.”

A 2002 classic.

The bartender shakes em up, and hands them over.

“Twenty-four dollars.”

“Oh, I just wanted two.”

“Right. That’s twenty-four dollars.”

Yikes. That’s like my whole bank account in Canadian. Gotta bad feeling the standard dollar a drink tip won’t hold up here either. At least there’s a huge slice of apple floating on top. Supper too. 

We meet a couple of women who chat us up and end up buying us a round. Thank God. That subsidizes my loss on the last purchase. We explain we’re from Ottawa, and as per uje we get,

“Iowa?”

“No, Ottawa.”

Being Canadian is like being a vegan. We bring it up a lot. There’s no conversation we won’t interrupt to sing along to an Avril Lavigne song, while also proclaiming “She’s Canadian!”

We wander around the corner to another bar that actually has a real happy hour. Phew. I won’t chirp anyone for drinking Bud Light if it’s only three dollars. 

This bar is loaded with hot guys. Our lucky day! We start chatting up two babes. Obvi we let them know we’re from Canada. Seems to be our best ice breaker.

They start smiling and giggling at us. 

“Are you guys together?”

“No we’re just friends- sorority sisters, actually. She’s my little.”

“Do you guys know where you are?”

The question is mildly confusing. Then one of the guy’s blurts out,

“You’re in BOYS TOWN!” 

That explains the good music and the bar across the street called Motherlode. A solid lost tourist moment. Should have gone with the story we’re from Iowa. To this day, Boys Town still remains the funnest part of L.A.

We finally make our way down to Jones, where we’re meeting Shaun for Natasha’s birthday dinner. The place is so cool (still my fave restaurant in L.A. 19 years later.) Shaun is so welcoming and happy to see us. I had only done a few shows with him in the motherland. Most recently he hosted my Just For Laughs showcase at Yuk Yuk’s. And just when I think he can’t get any cooler, he waves at a girl he knows from across the room.

“Brittany!”

Omg it’s the girl from Swan’s Crossing! I LOVED that show. She was also on Sweet Valley High, but as a HUGE fan of the books, I still preferred to read about Jessica and Elizabeth. (Great, now I’m throwing shade to both Brittany Daniel AND Craig Kilborn in one blog. Apologies to both, cuz I’m Canadian.)

(See, brought it up again.)

Brittany is SO nice and gorgeous and it wouldn’t be Hollywood without at least one celebrity sighting. Over dinner we tell Shaun all about our glorious lives in Venice Beach being maids in a hostel.

“You’re doing what?”

“Ya, for free rent.”

“No, no, no. My apartment is gonna be empty for a month. I’m going back to Canada for 22 Minutes. You can stay there while I’m gone.”

Holy shit. This was too fucking nice. And his place was awesome too. I had nothing but horse shoes up my ass with people rescuing me. First Lisa, then Marcus, now Shaun… this was all becoming a pattern of my early life in L.A. Every week I seemed to have a new savior. 

And Shaun was definitely not the last either. 

(This pic is actually my birthday at the Improv a few years later, including comedian Kristeen Von Hagen and Dave Nystrom who will also go on to house me. The pic at the top of blog is Natasha, Shaun and I the night of her birthday. That’s not Jones though, it’s us at Popeye’s after a Hollywood bar crawl.)

Chapter 11: Too Soon

I’m 22 years old and three years into comedy. Cell phones are becoming more popular, and not just something only dads and cab drivers have. I am vehemently against getting one.

Hell no. The thought of people being able to get ahold of me 24/7 scares the shit out of me.

Straight from my diary, May 15th, 2001. (That’s right! I have all my diaries from this date forward here in my apartment, so I’ll be able to plagiarize my old self, and you can mock my EXACT dated thoughts!)

My supplementary job and boyfriend had changed. I quit my job at CD Warehouse shortly after the Spice Girls broke up. What was the point? Sure I bought Geri’s solo album, but “Look At Me” was the only good song. I got a job serving at Canada’s finest restaurant, Boston Pizza. (An Edmonton based chain, obvi.) After winning employee of the year at the end of 2000, I was feeling on top of the world. I took the DVD player I won and exclusively fed it Sex & the City season one DVDs.

I broke up with Marcus, but only after we did acid together. He tried to video tape the trip, but the second I started to feel it, I made him turn the camera off. To be honest, I REALLY wish I let it roll. I’d love to watch that now. That wasn’t the tipping point by any means. My break up was a solid reason:

“I just really need to focus on the sorority right now.”

My focus on comedy was building too, which was awkward having a restaurant job. Both these industries have the same busy nights of the week. But I thrived off slow days like Monday and Tuesday, cuz I could rock my friendly Canadian personality and sometimes get the full 15% tip I deserved out of the cheaper side of Ottawa. (WINNING!)

My material was coming along too. I replaced my first closer:

“Guys, if you go out later tonight, just remember, NO means NO… NO also means I’m not drunk enough, you’re not rich enough and your dick is way too small.”

(OOOOOF I am cringing writing that. I would NEVER make fun of penis size today. Those guys are great at oral. And I always date broke guys. And… well, I have a solid tolerance. I’m never drunk enough. That holds up.)

But my new and improved closer is way better:

“My best friend has a tongue ring…”

(HI, MEGHAN!)

“I think we know what they’re good for… I’m too scared to get one. I think it might hurt and make me talk funny, so I’ve just decided if a guy wants that texture in my blow job, I’ll just pop a marble in my mouth… It’ll be the best game of Hungry Hungry Hippos he’s ever played.”

The joke was a quality closer. Something I could count on even if the middle of my set wasn’t going well. And I was finally trying to write more than just stand up. I wanted to write a SCREENPLAY! Something like Reality Bites, obvi. I was incredibly optimistic about the future. I was really starting to think anything was possible.

And then…

I woke up one Tuesday morning in September. (As a diary writer, I can confirm I’m never sure of the date when I pick up the pen.) I had to work at 10:00am. I hopped in the shower around 8:45. My mom was selling AVON at the time, so she had gifted me a shower radio. I’d blast Magic 100fm, cuz even at 22, I enjoyed some Phil Collins. All of a sudden, the sultry voice of the female DJ came back on after “Against All Odds.”

“We just learned news of a devastating plane crash at the World Trade Center in New York. Our hearts go out to every one effected.” 

What happened? 

I run out of the shower, and turn on the TV. That’s when I see it.

And then I see it again…

But this time it’s the other tower.

I don’t need to explain to you what happened. 

It was the most traumatic thing I had seen on TV since The Challenger. But this was something different. You could convince yourself after the first tower got hit, it must have been an accident, but the second… 

All of a sudden every dream, goal and worry you had yesterday seems to be superfluous. 

By the time I got to work, it seemed like the whole world had fallen apart. Normally we’d have sports on our big screens, but today it’s news, and everyone is glued to it. Nobody knew what to say, how to act or even work. My boss was sticking his keys in his ears like they were Q-Tips, which he only did when something was bothering him.

We kept the TVs on CNN all day with sound. Something we had never done before. All the government buildings in the city were being locked down. Planes were being diverted up to Canada. I didn’t really think we’d get attacked too, but it was a possibility. I worked with a lot of people from Lebanon and Afghanistan who were able to explain way more about terrorist groups than I ever knew. It’s embarrassing how it takes something catastrophic to happen before you choose to learn more.

I was always a big smiler, but I couldn’t do it today. If I saw any tables laughing I’d literally get pissed off. I was on a split shift, but after watching replays of the planes crashing into the twin towers all day long, I eventually broke down. Incontrollable sobbing. I couldn’t pretend I or anything was okay. My boss sent me home. 

Yuk Yuk’s cancelled the show on Wednesday. Thank God. I couldn’t imagine trying to make people laugh at a time like this. I didn’t feel like being funny nor could I pretend I had the power to cheer people up.

But when the club did open back up, I had to go. I wasn’t on the show, but I wanted to see how professionals would deal with it. The headliner was from Toronto. Ottawa comics had an interesting take on Toronto. Some of them had tried out the city, hated it, and came back. Some found the Toronto comics arrogant.

“Let me see you Twirl” man was from Toronto, so I could understand. But surely on a week like this, they wouldn’t try to make jokes about a terrorist attack that was surely leading us to war, right?

Wrong. 

As I sat on the bar stool close to Tommy (the bartender) in case I needed another pint of Keiths for the pain, I PRAYED nobody would try to make jokes about Tuesday. It was DEFINITELY too soon. I don’t even think the phrase “Too Soon” was in my vocabulary until this particular week. The first few local comics seemed to get through their sets respectfully. The crowds were polite, but low energy, which was to be expected.

But then the Toronto guy went on stage.

And you KNOW he had to try to make a joke about it.

I was horrified. The whole crowd was uncomfortable. 

It took a certain calibre of comic to talk about 9/11. Three years in, I knew it wasn’t me. Jon Stewart did it right.

But not many people in between.

I actually really like this comic today, but that was an awkward first impression.

I had only been to New York two times at this point in my life. Most comedians dream of performing there. But after that day, I feared it might never happen.

But guess what?

Dreams do come true.

I finally moved here…

March 1st, 2020.

P.S. Pretty sure learning of 9/11 in the shower has scarred me out of proper hygiene to this day.

P.P.S. If you watched Sex & the City back then, that first season the towers weren’t in the beginning anymore was a sad reminder.

P.P.P.S. I know this is a LOT of P.S.’s, but that first pic is of me and my sorority sister/friend Natasha when we drove to NYC for a “Canada Loves New York” Rally. Didn’t want to say that in the beginning, cuz I didn’t want spoilers. Was it obvious I was writing about 9/11? You can tell me…