If you look closely, you can see a broken cash register in the grass…one of Edinburgh’s many hidden gems.
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I’m doing the Edinburgh Fringe Festival and I’ve already fucked it up: Entry 20 SPANK YOU
I’ve gotten more sleep than I have in a long time and I still feel a bit shattered. I have no food in thee house as I have given up on cooking at home a few days ago. I am proud of myself for managing to cook a handful of meals but I just can't be bothered anymore.
I spot a review on a poster that is from a site that is infamous for giving five star reviews if you pay for them. This poor bastard only got four from them so it must be a terrible show. How anyone that has done the festival before doesn't know what utter contempt this particular “reviewer” is held in is beyond me. It suggests they need better friends.
The Scotsman newspaper, junk food and tote used to be unavoidable at every corner. Now they are like four-leaf clovers only available before 10:00am at the top of Arthur’s Seat. One of the guys I do the compilation show with pick one up for me and I devour the junk food at the bottom as my breakfast minutes before I go onstage at Funny Cluckers.
Ian Fox and I have a leisurely lunch and chat about show posters on the Grassmarket at a restaurant know not to be a tourist trap, meaning it is crawling with other performers at the Fringe. An American improv group with no invitation or attempt at engagement, places their flyers with a four-star review from a reputable source in front of us and every one else in the restaurant. I say loud enough for them to hear, “ It’s so nice when people let you know which show to avoid at all costs.” I get it. Doing a show at the Fringe can make people forget how to interact with human beings but I refuse to reward the perfect storm of cuntyness it creates.
One of my best friends from Japan, Anisa, comes to the show tonight and we have the perfect number of people in the room to make it as comfortable as possible while still giving people the anonymity needed to enjoy dark humor. I have added a few jokes to the show to keep it interesting for me. The anticipation created when adding something new and the possibly it may not work gives an otherwise memorized show a bit more of an adventurous feel, at least from my point of view. The gamble pays off.
There has been a drop out at the show SPANK and I’ve been asked to fill in. I love this show so much. It is the perfect blend of irreverence and fun. The act on before me was a little low energy and so when I went on stage, for whatever reason, a small number of people expected more of the same and booed me. I always enjoy an opportunity to flip off an audience and I did it well. I eventually won the doubters over, even the woman that was upset I made fun of Wales. Besides, if the Welsh don’t want me to make fun of them, they should get better internet. I never said anything about their third eye or six toes. I don't have any idea why she was so upset.
I make plans to go with Anisa’s friend to a Disney party tonight. I have no idea what to expect.
I’m doing the Edinburgh Fringe this year and I’ve already fucked it up 2019: Entry 16 Cool running
You know you are in Edinburgh when you decide to go to the gym to give your legs a break. I am walking about 8 miles a day everyday an had grand plans to go to the massive commonwealth pool for a swim but decided not to as I was still drying out from the all-day downpour from the day before. I will make it to the pool before the end of the festival. I miss swimming so much and hear they have a diving board, awesome sauce.
There seems to be a fresh batch of people at the Fringe today. I did a quick spot at Funny Cluckers and the audience seemed happy rested and on their 3rd Corona around 3:00 in the afternoon. Ian Fox fixes my card reader which has refused to work throughout the festival. Grrrr but it’s fine now.
Ian and I have lunch at Mosque Kitchen with Dave Turquoise, one of my favorite people to bump into on the comedy scene. Within seconds we are roasting each other like children on a playground. Nothing at the Fringe has made me laugh as hard as him making fun of the way I eat curry.
My show is full on a Monday night and I am pleasantly surprised at how much fun people were having. Mondays are usually notorious for being difficult during the Fringe. Aside from having to stop the show for a second to give a woman in the front row a block of ice to eat like an ice cream sandwich to keep her from succumbing to the heat, it felt like a Friday night show.
The room isn’t quite as hot as it has been. I know this because my hair is still curly at the end of the show. Last week my hair would go from little orphan Annie curly to ramrod straight after 20 minutes. ( I know this because that is what an audience member told me as she put money in my bucket) Then the barman at my venue told me Scotland’s heatwave has finally ended. Of course! It all makes so much sense now. It never occurred to me that 25 degrees in August anywhere in the Northern Hemisphere would be considered a “heat wave”. If it continues to be as cool as it has been for the last two days, I think my room may just be tolerable. Yay! Happy dance!
Tonight is the first time my bucket speech doesn’t sound like an apology and I pat myself on the back for finally growing a pair.
With my backpack full of wet hiker towels and hand fans, I brave the industry bar with my day of good fortune. There was some sort of festival recruiting going on for a festival in Ireland. Thank god I’ve run into a friend that feels equally out of place at these things and we manage to hold our own. I get to say “ Hello” to people I wouldn’t have had the guts to do on my own and my friend knows how hard it was for me. There us a a brief moment when I am sure someone thinks my name is “Spree” ( Starbucks Baristas often write that on my cup) I then realize it was just his accent and in a noisy environment like that with so many accents going on I can’t code switch fast enough to catch everything people are saying. Me and my friend have a lovely time, high five each other for being fully functioning social people for one night and go home before comedians turn into pumpkins at 3:00am.
This daily blog will not be checked for punctuation or spelling, just like Chortle.
I’m doing the Edinburgh Fringe this year and I’ve already fucked it up 2019: Entry 14 SPANK
I stay in the flat as long as I possibly can and get out the door at 2:15. My room smells musty as I have done the laundry and have hung clothes on every available surface that is not nice furniture, as the landlady requested. Not realizing this whole time there is a drying rack in the hallway closet. The ladylady suggests I use it as the musty smell has wafted into the hallway a bit.
How was I supposed to know it was in the hall closet? I don’t go through people’s hallway closets, who knows what kind of weird shit I’d find in there. If I found bodies in there my first thought would be, “I don’t want to move mid-festival. I’ve got enough to worry about.”
There are new people in the flat, a mother and daughter doing a children’s show. They are amazed I do a show every night at 9:05. When I tell them I am doing another show at one in the morning, their jaw drops. I really hope they don’t come to my show.
Being a Saturday night, the crowds are just as I suspect, more tired than Friday as they are still recovering from Friday night shenanigans. The energy is more frazzled and attention spans are as short as can be. I warn my audience as it fills up that it is going to get hellishly hot as I pass around towels and fans. Three women stand at the door who want to be in the room simply because it is full. I ask them to leave, saying I am doing them a favor and they are slow on the uptake. It was a great show although 4 had to leave mid-show as they were just about to faint. Them leaving gave everyone else a bit more breathing room and energy. A couple of the punters said they came to the show because they were told it was a claustrophobically dark comedy show. I think that is a great way to describe the experience. The show in that room is like someone made an escape room out of an Auschwitz oven.
I do a spot at SPANK for the first time tonight. It’s a late night comedy show that is just silly fun. In the middle, a comedian or anyone that wants to promote something will get a minute on stage to promote it if they get naked. Tonight, I do not get naked but a rather sweet punter did on stage just to tell the audience how much he loved his partner. It was very sweet. There is also a lovely guy doing a show at the same venue space at an earlier time called “How Karaoke Changed My Life” and he gets a shoutout without having to getting naked because everyone loves him so much. I want to go to this show because apparently he just sings whatever song the audience wants to sing with them. It’s too bad the show isn’t called “Karaoke Without Cunts.” I hope he can get more people into his show.
On my way back home, a very drunk man asks me if I sell weed because I happened to be hunched over trying to zip my messenger bag closed in the rain. I unfortunately do not sell weed and tell him so. I wish I did, then I could afford to do the festival properly.
I call my boyfriend and in my drunk on three beers, two-octave higher than usual voice tell him I love him and stumble home at 2:30am.
This daily blog will not be checked for punctuation or spelling, just like Chortle.
I’m doing the Edinburgh Fringe this year and I’ve already fucked it up 2019: Entry 13 The Bukkake Baby
I am up and out of the house by 9:30am in the summer rain rushing to get to the recording to “Anything but Coldplay” radio show at BBC’s Fringe Central. It is fun and reminds me of how little music I listen to anymore. Tina Turner Tea Lady is a guest and a festival staple, quintessential British character comedy. I love acts like that. I know being a foreigner, I’ll never totally get all of the references but I enjoy reaching for them. It’s like mentally reaching for a cookie on the top shelf, once you get it, you feel like you’ve earned it.
I’m guest spotting on a total of three shows today. The under twenty-fives seem to be out in full force, probably because school starts up next week. I do a spot at a show where everyone is supposed to do their most offensive material. This is tricky as “offensive” is a broad term. Am I supposed to do material with offensive language, have an offensive point of view or just offend everyone? I am not sure so I do all three. The weird thing about the set is I do a few jokes that are not offensive during my set just to cleanse the palate, like a sip of water between box wine tastings and I can sense people thinking, “Wait, that’s not offensive. She’s cheating.” It is a fun but weird vibe to the show.
I then go home for a much needed sumo nap. A sumo nap is when you take a nap after a meal. It’s part of a sumo’s training and helps them gain weight. I feel like a million bucks when I wake up and decide I have enough energy to flyer. I genuinely enjoy it now. I think I am good at pitching the show now and don’t feel rejected when people don’t want a flyer or the show just isn’t for them. I ask a group of three women if they have a dark sense of humor. “Absolutely not.” They say. “ You all must be very healthy then. Carry on..” I reply and we all have a good laugh. If you play it right, even rejection is fun.
We have a full house and they are sort of excited by the idea of being in a completely inappropriate room for comedy or breathing. I chuck hiker’s towels at them as well as hand fans and ice throughout the show. I cut out anything that requires a second or more of concentration or is Edinburgh fringy because this is a club crowd. A woman in the front is clearly on something other than alcohol but is a great sport and well-behaved. Having parents that did a lot of drugs in their day has taught me how to handle these sensitive souls.
Afterwards, I guest spot on Imaginary Porno Charades and discover I am actually pretty good at the charming and getting better at staying in the moment for the guessing. Because I spent so much time in Japan, I get “bukkake” within seconds to the shocked delight of the audience but my team fails to guess “the Bukkake Kid “ and guesses “The Bukkake Baby “ instead which starts a fight as to which is more wrong, a baby or a kid. My team captain argues a baby is better because they cannot remember anything. I say that is how it starts but I am not an authority. Somebody should ask Epstein, he would know better. I mention to my boyfriend later on, “You know, bukkake just sort of rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?”
This daily blog will not be checked for punctuation or spelling, just like Chortle.
I’m doing the Edinburgh Fringe this year and I’ve already fucked it up 2019: Entry 6
I don’t know why I contemplated joining a steam room with some other performers when it turns out I am performing in a sauna every night.
Every comedian complains about how chilly Scotland is in August and how roasting it is in the venues. It is often uncomfortably hot but my room is ridiculous this year. Everyone who went in to the show with curly hair came out with damp straight hair. The only ones not fazed by the heat were the Scottish punters that could somehow pretend they were on a tropical island that smelled like a cave people dance in.
I am happy that everyone in the audience is facing in the right direction. I’ve learned you need punters not to be able to look at other punters faces when watching dark comedy or they will start to wonder what other people think of them. That said, my room is too hot to think in. I am rushing the show every so slightly in order to distract them from how hot it is. In a way I feel like a child in the back seat of the car desperately trying to entertain the family on the summer vacation drive across the US in a car with no air conditioning and the windows rolled up and oxygen becomes less and less available. I thought one punter hated it but it turns out he was just trying not to faint. I am working on a solution.
A lovely couple from Nottingham that had seen me at the Glee Club few weeks ago came as well as a punter with a massive guitar who came a few minutes late. I did not let in a woman who asked to come in after a half hour had passed. I am considering not letting in any latecomers at all, it’s not like I am in an auditorium where punters can quietly sit in the back unnoticed. It feels more like someone asking if they can join a dinner party in progress while the host is telling a story everyone is into. We all get pulled out of the story as we all move over to make room. It is not ideal.
I go to an industry bar hoping to run into someone I know to spitball possible solutions. Everyone suggests getting a fan but there is zero cool air coming in that it will just exacerbate the situation and it just makes me think of Ebola. I will try some ideas I have tonight as my big solution from Amazon is coming tomorrow. We will see how that goes.
I then lost my phone. I retraced my steps from the industry bar back to the venue and had no luck finding it there. I then remember googling “How to cool a hot room” and getting the answer, “Sleep like an Egyptian” (Apparently, that is a thing) near the industry bar. It seems my phone had fallen out on the couch I was sitting on when I realized it was gone and was just behind me the whole time I was looking for it. Someone turned it in at the bar.
I go home having made my Fitbit very happy and crash into bed.
This daily blog will not be proofread for spelling or punctuation, just like Chortle.