Martha O'Neill

Wow, post one (hilarious!) prank-y column and suddenly Grose is recruiting new columnists! I fear for my job security…and just when the dental benefits were kicking in! Ah, well – will soldier on ‘til the union rep tells me otherwise.

I’m in a great mood this week – just brought home a puppy – a gorgeous 8 week old cockapoo. Named her Woopsie Daisy, ‘cause it makes me chuckle. Turns out it may be apropos – as she’s already crowned herself a dozen times and has only lived here 5 minutes. Needless to say, the kids are over the moon, the husband is coming around and I’m besotted. But enough about the dog – I’ve sworn I won’t become a puppy-bore (but did I mention she’s wonderful?).

So, in honour of my buoyant spirits – thought I’d write about a great show. Obviously, the good shows tend to outweigh the bad ones, but the great ones are less common and such a joy because they are usually so unexpected. This one in particular.

A few weeks ago, I was booked to do a stag and doe to cover a friend who lined up a tour and couldn’t do it. I invited along a headliner that I admire, but didn’t know very well. My friend sent me all of the correspondence and info re: the show. The mother of the groom was the contact. From the outset, I was worried. The emails contained lines like: “the groom’s name is Erik Wilfred Anderson IV Esquire*, though his university cohorts call him Esquire. He’s quite a comedian himself!” *name made up…except for the “IV Esquire” part – no one could make that up.

There was a detailed description of the room layout and the “renowned” singer who was going to open the show (her sister-in-law). High maintenance client, to say the least. But the pay was okay and I had nothing else booked, so was going with the flow.

The gig was two hours north of Toronto, in cottage country. The headliner and I left in plenty of time to arrive at least 45 minutes before showtime. And we would have been 45 mins early, had the highway not been shut down – all lanes northbound – while we were on it. Crap. Double crap. Now, I’m an on-time person, maybe to a fault – and get very anxious at being late, especially for a show. But the headliner was a great, calming influence and I soon lightened up and enjoyed the trip up with him.

Once the highway opened up again, we worked our way north, but of course, got lost on the country roads. I had images of a county club ballroom, white tablecloths, the mother of the groom in her Chanel suit and pearls, frantic that we weren’t there. After many calls to the bar manager, we finally arrived, a full hour after the show was to start.

What a surprise when we pulled up to a rather run-down sports bar in the middle of a field. Inside the mother of the groom, while a bit distracted, wasn’t concerned in the least by our late arrival. Everyone was in jeans and t-shirts, drinking beer out of plastic cups and chips out of the bag. The renowned singer was just finishing her set of ‘80’s hits, then I was called up to a well-lit stage with a nice sound system, and proceeded to have one of the most joyful sets I’ve had in a long while. I did about 20, then the headliner went up for 40 and had an equally terrific set. We stayed for about 45 minutes after the show chatting with many of the guests – then headed back to Toronto. We got lost again, but at that point we didn’t care. All in all – a great show.

Why? I honestly don’t know. Perhaps because of expectations (train wreck) vs. reality (great crowd, room…); maybe relief; maybe just luck. But goddamn, I wish they were all that wonderful.

I’m a girl comic. A woman stand-up. A chick comedian. A comedienne. Big whoop.

It was inevitable that I’d get around to writing about this, although I’ve been putting it off, because it seems an over-discussed and hyper-analyzed subject; but a number of things happened these past few weeks that prompted me to address the darned thing. Which in itself, irks me. I think I can say, with some degree of certainty, that it would never enter a guy comic’s mind to explore the idea of what it’s like to be a man doing comedy. Because no one ever brings it up. Comic = guy. And when I say guy, I mean young white guy. ‘Cause if you’re NOT a young white guy, you’re an anomaly. Even the non-white guys are still young and guys for the most part. (I should totally find a thesaurus and find an alternate word to “guy”, I know…).

I think it would be safe to say that girl comics are out-numbered 20-1 to guys. A statistic which I made up right now (a skill I recently picked up from Scott Harris). And those are just the girls doing the circuit in Toronto. Of the pros working, making money in
Canada – maybe 100-1. Again, made up – but it works for me. Non-white girl comics, erm, I dunno, 500-1. I really don’t know the whys – it probably has something to do with the fact that funny women have long been regarded as the sidekick to the beautiful, desirable women, both in Hollywood and in life. Only in the last decade or so, has it been okay to be funny and desirable. But it’s still a looong battle. Because frankly, all we want is to be a comic. No frickin’ adjectives.

So here are the things that happened to me recently. Did a wonderful show at the Staircase Theatre in Hamilton called “Full Bawdy Comedy”. It was produced by the wonderful Shelley Marshall, and was an “all-women” show. There was stand-up, clown, burlesque, music, everything. A terrific show with great audiences. However, the audiences were primarily women, and a few husbands and boyfriends. There’s nothing wrong with that, but did the men stay away because it was an “all-girls” show? Methinks perhaps. As an aside, just about every man who DID come to the show, made a point of telling Shelley or someone else on the show how much they enjoyed it. I just wish they hadn’t seemed so bloody surprised.

The next week Shelley & I were booked to do an out-of-towner; I would MC/open, she would headline. Fine, awesome, good to go. Yet at the 11th hour (i.e. the night before), we find out that the booker has added a guy to the show, because he thinks it needed “a bit of testosterone”. Really?! Now, I’m all for comics getting work, I love this particular comic, but not in a million years, if two guys were booked for the gig would a producer think “we need more estrogen on this show, get Miss Funnypants on the phone!” The point being that Shelley and I had it under control, it would have been a great show without the dangly-bits.

Then I went down to Absolute Ottawa for a weekend of opening for the Doo Wops (super-wonderful weekend, thanks for asking) – but had one guy actually say to me “you were really funny, and not just for a girl comic, but for like, you know, a comic-comic”. Thank you for saying that, I appreciate you coming out, yadda, yadda, feck off. The next night, another man post-show, another “Wow, you were good. I’ve never seen a woman do stand up before”. Sad, sad, sad.

Then last night did another all-girls show. It had highs and lows, just like any night in any room in Toronto. So why, once again was the audience 80% women? I have no answers. And now that I’m started find I could go on and on about the subject. Partly because this is a big part of my life these days, though I also blame the fact that I had about 600 cups of coffee with Andrew today and am wired on caffeine.

For now, however I’ll end here, and perhaps address the subject again in a future column. But I’ll leave you with this – why can’t funny just be funny?

I’m feeling a bit like J.K. Rowling right now.

I’m holed up in a hotel room, madly writing to deadline, shutting out the world and drinking coffee. Okay, so she was holed up in the Dorchester in London, writing the last Harry Potter book, drinking fabulous tea on antique china, whilst I, on the other hand, am at the Radisson in Ottawa writing my weekly column drinking coffee with that horrid whitener-stuff, but still.

I’m in Ottawa playing Absolute Comedy all weekend, doing a guest spot with the fabulous Doo Wops. When I called Jason Laurans about coming down to do another spot here (I was here last summer, too), he said all he had coming up was this gig, 10 mins/show, for almost no money. But I jumped at the chance to play with the Doo Wops, because I think they are wonderful and know it’s going to be a fun weekend. So, the hubby & I decided to make a weekend of it. He’s flying down today and we’ll drive back Sunday after the show.

Some of my friends think I’m nuts because I’ll be spending probably 5 times more than I’ll be making. But looking at it another way, Shane (the hubby) and I will have a lovely, kid-free weekend (which are few & far between); the club will more than likely sell out all the shows, and who doesn’t want to play a great club filled to the brim? Plus, I look at this as “paying my dues”. The paying gigs are starting to happen on a more regular basis, but most of my time is spent hitting the rooms around Toronto, working on my stuff.

So, when do you stop “paying your dues”? I guess that’s like asking “how long is a piece of string?” For everyone it’s different. Obviously, the better/more talented you are, the shorter your piece of string, but looking around me, I realize that my upward-mobility will rely a lot on my ability to market myself. A great number of my comic-friends are terrific at this; me, not so much.

After much prodding by one friend, I finally went out and bought marthaoneill.com (don’t bother going there – nothing to see yet). But even just buying the domain name took me the better part of 90 minutes last week. Creating the website is even more daunting (don’t worry, Andrew, I won’t be asking you!). I do have someone lined up to help, but before I do that, I need new photos. Again, I have someone lined up to do that, but it’s a matter of co-ordinating schedules, getting hair and make up organized etc. etc.

I do have a MySpace page and am on Facebook, but even these lack a certain amount of polish. Many comics have “groups” created for themselves, but doing that makes me feel self-important. Perhaps I should just get over myself.

I must also put together some video of myself and put a package together. Firstly, though, I must figure out just what “a package” is.

How about press? Everyone knows you have to have some press coverage to get anywhere. It’s the getting of the press coverage that baffles me. I did manage to get on the radio in Hamilton last week for an hour, but that was on the coat-tails of a much more successful comic, who is also very savvy about marketing. At least it’s a start.

Then there’s hustling. I should be getting onto bookers, agents etc – which I am, to a certain degree, but must confess to being a little shy when it comes to calling these people and selling myself. I think there’s a confidence thing going on, too. Are all the most successful comics brimming with self-assuredness and moxie? I’m thinking yes, or at the very least, they put up a good front.

When I first started stand up, I thought it was all about the writing and stage presence. And while that really is the meat of what we do, the potatoes fill up a surprisingly large part of the plate.

So, while J.K. Rowling has truckloads of money, legions of fans around the world, I got to make a couple of hundred people laugh last night, and hope to again tonight, which is pretty darn cool. The rest, I’ll figure out.

All my life I’ve been susceptible to crushes. When I was 6 & 7, it was Donny Osmond. 8 & 9 it was Davy Jones (who, by the way, I met when I was in my twenties, a teeny-tiny, though pleasant man). 10 through 12 it was Barry Manilow (I know, I know…). Then Bruce Springsteen, Corey Hart, Paul Young – you get the picture. I can’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t infatuated with someone. And I’m not even touching on the actual real-life boys whom I admired from afar and embarrassed myself in front of.

I’ve grown out of this (mostly, if you don’t count Ewan McGregor), but have come to the realization that throughout the years, I’ve harboured a deeper affection for another group of people; comedians. All along, perhaps without acknowledging it outright, I’ve cultivated what I call “comedy crushes”. These comedy crushes are in no way sexual, in fact they run the gamut; men, women; older; younger; gay; straight, whatever. The only thing in common they have is that when I see them perform, I’m drawn to them. If I get to meet them, I tend to say idiotic things or, alternately, shy away from meeting them at all. (Note: if you happen to know me, and I tend to say idiotic things around you, it does NOT necessarily mean that I have a comedy crush on you, it could be that I’m just a moron, or drunk, or both).

Early (and enduring) comedy crushes include; Mary Tyler Moore, Carol Burnett, Lucille Ball, Bob Newhart, Bill Cosby, Robin Williams (first as Mork – I know, I know…), Richard Pryor, Lily Tomlin and even Flip Wilson. And I mustn’t forget the cast of SCTV and most of the SNL casts. The list of current famous comedy crushes is too long to list, but predictable, I’m sure.

It wasn’t until I was in college that I started watching live stand-up comedy (I LIVED at the Yuk Yuks in Ottawa). At that point the infatuation was complete. Now I had comedy crushes on both Hollywood stars and Canadian comics doing the circuit. But at this point I didn’t realize how much a part of me it was.

Now, one might argue that I simply admire these talented people, but it goes further than that. I don’t know if it’s because they seem more like “real” people to me. Perhaps there is a certain vulnerability comedians possess that I relate to, or maybe I was drawn to these people because I wanted to be a comedian, but hadn’t figured it out yet. Or it could be simply that they made me laugh – and what’s better than laughing?

I love hanging out with comics. They are generally interesting people who are informed, articulate, and often possess a child-like spirit (which is a good thing, in my books). And now that I’m a comic myself, I’m like a kid in a candy store. Comedy crushes galore! They’re all around me! Now, I have no intention of naming names, mostly because I go to Spirits a lot and don’t know just who reads this. I certainly don’t want to have to hide in the less-than-pleasant ladies washroom there because I can’t keep my big column shut. Many are successful, but some are not. Some are headliners, some are newcomers with bags of talent, many are in-between.

So I think that, beyond fame or money, what would most make me feel like a success in this business would be to be the receiving end of a comedy crush. That would be cool, indeed.

It’s funny that Tom’s column was about a disaster show (and a funny column, too). I had planned a similar theme this week, mostly inspired by my rant about professionalism last week. And while there are no clowns in my story (oh, how I wish there were!) – I’m going ahead anyway.

About a year ago, I was booked to MC a show at a hotel lounge in Hamilton. I was bringing one of the two middles down with me from Toronto. The other middle and the headliner were coming from another city. I didn’t know either of the other guys, and knew nothing about their comedy or their reps. Not that that matters, a gig’s a gig!

We arrive at the hotel and were a little dismayed at the giant, mostly empty room. Nice stage, however and it was early yet. Met the other comics, got paid by the manager and were treated to some food and drinks. Unfortunately, however, only about 10 people showed up and scattered themselves around the cavernous space. (And I’m counting the one guy at the bar who was watching the game).

As you can imagine, it was a rough one. But I tried my best to warm ‘em up and brought up the first guy from the other city. He did a hurried 7 mins, then took off without a backward glance. I did a few more minutes then brought my friend from Toronto up and wow, did he ever impress me. He totally won all 10 people (and the staff) over. He enjoyed his set and it was infectious.

While he was onstage, I leaned over to the headliner and asked him how much time he planned to do and his response was “I dunno, 5, maybe 10 minutes”. I was gobsmacked to say the least. Was he messing with me? It wasn’t my show; I was just hired by the same guy as him. But ultimately, I would be painted with the same brush as him by the audience and bar manager. They didn’t know we were strangers, as far as they were concerned we were “the show”. The booker wasn’t there, and I felt a certain responsibility that we put on the show he sold to the hotel. So I said that I was pretty sure there was an expectation of him doing at least 25-30 minutes.

After my friend finished his set, I brought up the headliner who, I shit you not, grabbed a chair from the audience, sat down and said: “I understand I’m contractually obliged to be on stage for at least 15 minutes, so you carry on what you’re doing while I wait it out”. We all thought he was kidding, this must be part of his act – he’ll surely start doing material! No, it would seem not. After a painful few minutes, my buddy jumped up with another chair and tried to “interview” the prick. His efforts to rescue the situation were met with grunts and non-answers. Two women in the audience said “tell a joke”, to which he replied, “No, you tell a joke”. He finally got off after about 13 of the most awkward moments I have ever had to witness. I tried to close the show on a decent note, told a few more jokes, but the damage was done. By the time I got off, the a-hole had scarpered.

I told this story to a good friend of mine (a comic), who actually took his side. She said that we (comics) are not responsible for promoting and booking a show, and when we arrive to a gig, we should expect there to be an audience. If there is no audience, we shouldn’t be expected to perform. I understood her point, for sure, but the fact is there WAS an audience. Only 10 people, but should they be “punished” for turning up and supporting live comedy? If I had booked a sitter for the night, paid for parking, bought my ticket into the show, I’d be damn angry if the show was cancelled, and even more angry if the booked comics threw in the towel.

Plus, we all pocketed our pay before the show. Once you do that, you not only have a moral obligation to perform as you had promised, but I suspect that you also have a legal one.

I (and I’m sure all of us) have played to many audiences large and small. While the large audiences are generally more gratifying to perform for, some of my favourite nights have been to small crowds. Yet I continue to be amazed at how many comics give up before they start in front of just a few people. It drives me crazy when they comment on the “pathetic audience” etc. They aren’t pathetic – they are awesome. It’s the comic who believes he’s wasting his time entertaining them who’s pathetic, in my opinion.

Now, off to my happy place. Have a good week, folks.