-Stand-up has to be the only profession where people ask you if you’re working no matter where you go.  The week before I went to Spain on vacation earlier this year, about a dozen people asked me if I’d be performing there.  I was like, uh, actually I’m gonna be sitting on the beach the entire time sipping a drink with a little umbrella in it.  When tax attorneys go to Cabo no one asks if they’re gonna be filing W2s by the pool.  Alas, stand-up is an oft-misunderstood occupation – and we comedians like it that way.  Here’s a glimpse inside a job that requires balls of steel and deftly combines public speaking with mass alcohol consumption.  Hey, it’s a living.

-Frequently asked question: Do I get nervous before a show? Answer: Sometimes.  But there’s one thing that’s helped calm my nerves for years – the knowledge that I’m not gonna shit myself.  You see, when I step on stage, a shot of adrenaline courses through my body.  My hangover disappears, my hunger pangs subside, and most importantly, my bowels clench.  I usually drink on stage as well, which is both good for my nerves and gives me a head start on my hangover for tomorrow’s show.
 
-It amuses me when a comic asks the crowd how they’re doing, and upon receiving an unsatisfactory responses, exhorts, “Come on, you can do better than that!”  I always imagine audience members thinking to themselves, “Sure, I mean there are plenty of things in life we can all do better.  I can be a better person.  Read a book occasionally.  Volunteer.  Donate to Darfur.  Somehow yelling ‘Woooooo!’ even louder doesn’t really seem like a priority right now.”

-Frequently asked question: Have I ever bombed?  Answer: I’ve told some stinkers in my day, but that’s part of the journey.  I’ll never forget telling a usually reliable joke at Tulane about how much it sucks, when you’re in college, to brag to all your friends from home about how awesome your school is and how much you party, but when they finally come and visit…it’s the worst weekend ever.  I’ve never seen more confused faces.  Apparently there’s never been a slow weekend in the storied history of Tulane and they had no idea what I was talking about.  But that’s the nature of the beast.  One minute you’re golden, and the next you’re bombing worse than Dresden in World War II.