Oct 28, 2014

The Opening Act

As expected, my incompetent friends cut off the first minute, so read this first:

Hey! Wow, hi everyone! I'm so excited to be here, my very first hour-long special!
...What? I don't have an hour? ...No one's here for me? No one... cares about me?
Ah. Sorry, guys. I was just hearing my mom's voice. I'm okay.
But, seriously, I do make fun of my mom a lot...

Which is worse: Club Downunder ordering a pizza just for you to have in your very first personal dressing room but rejecting it because your stomach is nervously flipping and twirling around like Richard Simmons sweatin' to the oldies? Hanging out with Sara Schaefer one-on-one backstage and thinking you're playing it so cool until she interrupts you to ask why your teeth are chattering so hard? My Richard Simmons reference? Or the mere idea of me pretending to be negative about the absolute greatest night of my life?

For the seemingly few of you that didn't read my absurdly-liked status, I opened for Sara Schaefer last Thursday—my very. first. non-open mic. performance. *WHITE GIRL SQUEAL* Thank you, everyone who came, for the obese amounts of support. Thank you, J-Man, for taping this. Thank you, Club Downunder, for believing in me. Thank you, Sara Schaefer, for recognizing my nerves and saying right before I stepped on stage- "Hey, have fun out there." Thank you, 80s band Survivor, for making 'Eye of the Tiger' so it could start playing in my head right when she said that. And lastly- you're welcome, Club Downunder, for the untouched pizza.

I love you all.