What More Can I Say?

Yesterday, I had the distinct honor of spending an entire afternoon with one of my biggest fans.
Despite the fact that she is completely illiterate, refuses to use a toilet to relieve herself, and frequently sneezes in my mouth, I know that she has great taste in friends (me) and also in comedians (me again), and therefore, I am willing to overlook her minor lapses in personal hygiene during our visits together.
Since I know she’s such a big fan of my comedic works, I arrived on the scene completely prepared.  I had worked on some new bits, sketches, improv games, silly faces, offensive voices, cruel and/or heartless impressions, and even fashioned together a few sock puppets that vaguely resembled some of the key characters in Les Mis, in case she was feeling dramatic or just wanted to hate on Anne Hathaway, PrinCESS of Genovia.
But, alas, all this preparation proved to be worthless.  My favorite superfan slept through the better part of my visit (RUDE!) and when she awoke, she did not seem happy to see me.  Instead, she yelled in my face!  Perhaps she was just starstruck?  I found it to be a little aggressive, but I’ve had worse hecklers, so I was not discouraged. I went straight into my new material, but she continued to interrupt and threw her hands up in exasperation.
As a last ditch effort, I threw on the hottest beat I could think of (“Be My Lover” by La Bouche”, duh) and called upon my experience as a classically trained dancer.
Oh, I’m sorry.  Did you say something?
I’ll say that again, just in case.  Classically.  Trained.  DANCER.
She finally stopped screaming just as her parents walked in the door.  Turns out, she just had to poop.  Which apparently is pretty standard behavior for a five-month-old baby.  Who knew?!
Please note: I am very responsible and available to care for your children at any time.


She was not.

One thought on “What More Can I Say?

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