Comedians in 2002 Getting Into Parties

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I was addicted to Miyagi’s. Not on any day of the week, just Wednesdays- comedy night. While most girls my age were trying to get into Garden of Eden or The Lounge to get a glimpse of Paris Hilton or Wilmer Valderrama, I was hoping to run into Alonzo Boden. He played Ottawa Yuk Yuk’s once and I was hoping he’d remember me.

I didn’t want to over stay my welcome at Shaun’s, but luckily Meghan linked me up with her friend Steven who she met working at Club Med in Mexico. (What did the “Med” stand for again?) He said I could share his Fountain & Sweetzer studio with him since he never slept at home. And he didn’t cook, so I could use the kitchen cupboards for my clothes. (I don’t need to explain he’s gay, right?) At the time, his arm was in a cast that for some reason had to stay elevated, so he always walked around town like he had a question.

(Steven and my friend Andrea from Vancouver.)

Living right in the heart of We Ho was amazing. I was able to bounce around to all the comedy spots every night. Plus Steven crowned me with a new nick name, “Hooker,” which really made me feel at home.

It was another fateful night at Miyagi’s where I met a guy who would become a huge part of the next few years. Shaun introduced us, and I guess that was a pretty sweet vouch for me. His name was Sam and he was a comedian too. (Who wasn’t?) He was extremely funny, ballsy and original. He made me feel included even though every time I hung with his circle of friends I couldn’t help but notice they all pronounced “Montreal” weird. (They go heavy on the first syllable- “M-AAAWN-Tree-all.) I also had no idea Just For Laughs was that big of a deal until these 2002 nights in West Hollywood. Every Canadian comic wanted to get to L.A. Every L.A. comic wanted to get to Montreal. 

Me and Sam starting bowling together. He always needed to stay up past midnight for his late night spots at The Comedy Store. Everyone knew Eddie Griffin would go up for two hours so there was no point in rushing there. Which brings me to the inspiration for this classic bit of mine:

“I like bowling… I think it’s a good first date activity… cuz if a guy has to watch me bend over all night, he’ll forget how small my tits are.”

(And yes, I would act it out.)

Me and Sam kept ambiguously hanging out, without really discussing what was happening. (My FAVE! Who wants to have that awkward conversation?) I was still haunted by the last guy’s words…

“I already have friends that complain I don’t spend enough time with them. I’d make time for a girlfriend, but I don’t have time for more friends.” 

I really didn’t want to lose Sam. And he was already panning out to be way better than Huntington Beach guy, so maybe it was time to put my guard down a little. 

He invited me to a party in Beverly Hills for The Fourth of July. He must have seen stars in my eyes when he asked so he qualified the invite with,

“SOUTH Beverly Hills. Where comedians can afford to live.”

Hey, people in Canada don’t need to know that. 

It was my first of several Fourth of July parties at Shawn Pelofsky’s house. She was (still is) amazing. Great comic, great host. We walked into her place and I was floored. I was still in my “B.Y.O.B.” party years, so seeing that kind of spread of food and booze blew my mind. Bottles of every kind of alcohol imaginable and trays of fresh vegetables that no one even touched! Where do I put my Two Buck Chuck and bag of chips? 

(I seriously think I hid it cuz I was so embarrassed. Oh well. I tried.)

Most of the guys who worked at The Comedy Store were there. Some were nice, some weren’t. My fave was the guy who parked cars, Fat James. (He called himself that- it wasn’t a bully thing.) He was always sweetest and made me feel welcome. The “No time for more friends” comic was there too. We quickly said hi, and then avoided each other the rest of the day.

There was a comic who had been in one of the towers on 9/11 at the party. It had been less than a year since the attack, so it remained a very tender topic. My heart still ached thinking about it. As I got tipsy, I decided to ask him to teach me all the words to The Star-Spangled Banner. I’m Canadian and didn’t exactly have it down. (Don’t judge me. How many Americans know all the words to “Oh Canada?”)  I was so inspired by his story of quitting his job and moving to L.A. to pursue his dream of stand up comedy after that tragic day. I knew it would actually be sentimental learning the national anthem from him. 

I was doing pretty good at the start and finish, but there were a few lines in the middle I kept messing up, when all of a sudden our lesson got interrupted. A fight seemed to be breaking out, and unbeknownst to me, I was at the centre of it.

“STOP TRYING TO GRAB MY GIRLFRIEND’S ASS!”

Say what? What’s happening? Wait, MY BUTT? Oh god why does this keep happening in life? My booty had been a perv magnet for years now. One of the attempted ass grabbers was on TV too! Not that I should be excited about that, but brains were wired differently back then, so these details show up in diaries with exclamation points. The two comics whose hands had been nearing my ass backed away as Sam snapped at them. If there’s one thing I can say about Sam is that he was very protective of me. And protection isn’t something you get every day in L.A. 

I was relieved he took me out of the situation, but it was too uncomfortable to stay after being the official scene of the party. The altercation had immediately sobered me up. I had retained most of The Star-Spangled Banner anyway, so I was fine with leaving. 

We awkwardly get in the car, and drive back towards West Hollywood in silence. 

Well, silence until I had to ask…

“Did you just call me your girlfriend?”

RIP Fat James (Price.) You were a real gem during a time female comics at The Comedy Store didn’t have a lot of allies. You are missed. (Pictured with one of my truest BFF’s Melissa McQueen on her birthday.)

Chapter 22: It’s Hard To Make Friends in L.A.

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When I was a little girl I made a goal that I was going to live in five cities in my life. That being said, you know I don’t have a fear of meeting new people. Even when I moved into my university dorm to discover my roommate was ESL, I was excited.

“Wow, we get to rely on the six sentences I know in French to communicate! This is gonna be fun!”

But nothing was like my [first] move to L.A. With Natasha’s back in Ottawa and Shaun gone, I was one of the many lost souls wandering Hollywood.

There are so many details of this time in my life I feel like I need to glaze over…

So the internet is getting this:

ATTEMPT TO MAKE FRIENDS PART ONE

I met this girl. Doesn’t matter how, but we were forced to spend hours together. At the end of the mandatory hours, she asked me,

“Hey, do you wanna go get a drink?”

I was SO excited! 

“Yassssss!” 

We didn’t actually say or write “Yasssssss” in 2002. I should really keep my dialect on brand for the year. (I probably said “Hot Diggity.”)

She had a car, which already saved me from any sort of public transportation after dark. She suggested going to WeHo, and that was closer to home so I was even more pumped.

She pulls over on a steep hill of a street just south of Sunset Blvd. I can’t help but notice an insane amount of parking signs. 

“Uhhh, I don’t think you can park here…”

“Oh I park here all the time. My ex-boyfriend lives right there.”

She points at the building right in front of the spot. Well, hey, she must know the parking in this area better than me. Maybe West Hollywood is lenient with parking restrictions.*

We walk north, passing the patio of a fancy restaurant. 

“My ex-boyfriend hangs out there all the time. Oh shit, there he is! Duck!”

She jumps in a bush. I just stop and stand there confused. I’m not jumping in a bush. He’s not gonna recognize me unless he works in one of those cheap clothing stores on Melrose. 

When she finally decides she can make a clean break out of the bushes she yells, 

“Run!”

Ummm, I don’t like walking on inclines let alone running up them. But I do a light jog behind her, to be supportive. We head around the corner to some bar called Red Rock. She keeps discussing the bush man.

“Here, lemme give you his number. Maybe he can help you with your papers. Don’t tell him you know me, or that I told you to call.”

“Oh… is he an immigration lawyer?”

“No, he’s a doctor. Which is shocking considering he gave me genital warts.”

I’m never calling this man. 

The longer we sat waiting for him to walk out of that restaurant, the more I realized I had been roped into a stalking expedition. But hey, I gotta ride home. (And yes, there was a ticket on her car when we returned.)

CUT TO:

ATTEMPT TO MAKE FRIENDS PART TWO

I went back to the Laugh Factory to pay my Tuesday night dues. I had another great set, and since I wasn’t in a hurry to figure out how to get back to Huntington Beach, I decided to hang. I watched the showcases, one of which was a comic I knew from Canada- Mini Holmes. I wasn’t sure she would remember me, but she did (or pretended to) and told me Ian Sirota was coming to town and I should come out with them. She scribbled down her number and wandered off for her talk with Jamie. I stayed right through to the pro show, watching an amazing comic I had never heard of named Mitch Mullany. As I was watching him, one of the guys who had just been on came over to me.

“Hey, I run a show at Farfalla. Call me and I’ll give you a spot. You’re funny.”

He slipped his number on a napkin and away he went. I returned to watching Mitch kill.

The next day I called the guy for a spot. I still didn’t have a cell phone yet, so Shaun’s landline was my office. The guy seemed cool, though a little brief assuming I was just calling to get booked.

After three hours of sitting on my ass doing nothing, I called him back.

“Hi, it’s me again. Christina.”

“Didn’t I already give you a spot?”

“Oh ya, I just wondered what you were doing tonight.”

He seemed so shocked.

“What?! Really? Uh… I have a spot at Miyagi’s. Do you wanna come?”

“Yup.”

He still seemed confused, but with more enthusiasm.

(I actually still want to do this today being new to a freshly re-opened New York.)

I immediately love Miyagi’s as I walk inside, probably cuz I’m 23 and that’s the place for 23 year olds. I couldn’t help but notice a girl applying for a job had a headshot stapled to her resume. You need a headshot to be a server in this town? I don’t think these people would appreciate those accidental panoramic shots I took that ended up just being my torso.

I head up to the show room. It’s packed. Oh ya, I MUST perform here. This place is so cool. I find the comic who shall remain nameless even though it would be fun to drop cuz he was so funny and I have no idea where he is these days.

He killed. He was also super cute, but I kept that in the VERY back of my mind. I had just moved across the continent for a “cute guy” and felt like a fucking idiot about it. Time to cool it with urges. Luckily he was just awkward enough to not know he was hot at all, so I felt comfortable with him.

He introduces me to the host of the show, whose act was about being a guy who drives a Trans-Am. (I actually think this might hold up in current day Bushwick.) I meet a few other usual suspects of the comedy scene of that era, (we’ll get around to them in future blogs) but I stay with with the nameless comic I came to see.

After the show he asked me where I parked. I told him I walked.

“From where?”

“Hancock Park.”

“Are you crazy? That’s so far! I can drive you home if you want.”

Of course I took the ride, but I was tired of the “Nobody walks in L.A.” speech. Do these people have any idea how much I walked around Ottawa in temperatures you’d only want your beer? I don’t see the problem.

He was a total gentleman on the way home. And from that night on, I took every chance I could to hang out with him. (He was an Aquarius. Good match for me as a Sagittarius.) We’d hang at his house, swimming and having beers in his pool. (Despite the fact I was a Canadian girl still incredibly insecure hanging out in a bathing suit this much.) I’d crash there sometimes, but just as buddies.

Eventually, things started to move in the most predictable direction…

We finally make out.

“I want you go be my girlfriend. I’m going to Cabo in two weeks. I’ll get a ticket for you too.”

An incredible amazing offer. If I wasn’t so scared about crossing the border I may have.

The kiss is amazing, but I can’t go any further. I still don’t feel like getting emotionally involved with anyone after my supposed soulmate made me drop my entire life in Canada for him. I had to take everything a little slower from now on. 

I can’t be swinging from guy to guy like they’re vines and I’m George of the Jungle.

(This was the exact analogy I made in 2002 and thought it was brilliant, btw.)

“I can’t. I’m sorry…. I’m just so new to town… I really need FRIENDS right now… I need some stability here before I get emotionally involved with someone. But I LOVE being friends with you…“

“Well… I already have enough friends who complain I don’t spend enough time with them. I would make time for a girlfriend, but I don’t have time for another friend.”

And that was the end of that. 

Back to searching for “true friendship” in L.A…

We should hear that phrase as much as “true love.”

But somehow we don’t.

Until next week…

Everything is still taking a long time,

Christina Walkinshaw

P.S. Now let’s see if you remember where the asterisk was to get this last bit:

* I LOL’d writing that. Who didn’t get a fuckin’ boot on their car in L.A.? 

P.P.S. Mitch Mullany passed away in 2008- WAY too soon. I was gonna post a pic of him that I Googled and have zero rights to, but instead I’m going with his book cover. A title I can def get behind. (And intend to buy.)