We went to open-mike night at a comedy club called Stanford & Sons and the comics were terrible. My cousin dared me to get up there and, well, he was challenging my manhood. I had to do it.
I did auditions at a club called the Comedy Connection. They wanted nothing to do with me. But one night they were doing a night of all women comics, and they invited me to do that.
I've been driving in the city for years because, as a stand-up in N.Y.C., you can perform at more comedy clubs a night if you have a car. Getting from club to club by subway is too slow at night and too expensive by cab. So, many comics live far out from Manhattan and drive in every night.
The first club that reopened in New Orleans was Caesar's, and they called me immediately and said let's do a regular night with you here. So we started FEMA Fridays. It was the only club open in the city, and a lot of people had a lot of money from Katrina, the checks and stuff, so the joy inside that club - I don't think that'll ever come back.
I'd like to help other comedians and when I get a little older I'd like to open up a nice comedy club that is straight classy, with a straight restaurant and a chef. The whole thing, red carpet, and treating people nice, for people to come back and have a good time. That's the kind of comedy club I want to open up.
On a practical level, I'm uncomfortable at comedy clubs because there are so many shitty dude comics who have made my life miserable. If I go to a comedy club and I look around, I don't know which of the dudes lining the wall told me that I was too fat to get raped. It makes me nauseous. But that was a couple years ago, and meanwhile, comedy has changed a lot.
A lot of the comics called me Bronco because I wouldn't get off - if I had to do an hour, I would stand there, even if it wasn't going well. I knew comics that would climb out of dressing room windows after they'd done their first spot.
Performing comedy in San Francisco to begin with is pretty wild. You've got to - you've got the human game preserve to play off of. And it's a lot of great characters everywhere. You work off that, and then you play the rooms, and eventually you get to a point where you're playing a club that is a comedy club, with other comics.
I went to a performance-art high school, and a teacher there was signing me up for open-mic nights at the comedy club. I think about it now, and I think, 'Well, that may be inappropriate,' but it was great!'
You can get bored up there on stage, night after night. But it's an open forum where you can get away with almost anything, so you might as well do it.
The first night you walk down to a comedy club, at least for me, I had my voice, and then I went on stage and I lost it.
I had a terrible motorcycle accident, in San Francisco as matter of fact. Doing a picture called... oh, this is terrible. It's a very well-known film and I can't remember the name. That's what happens when you get older... I fell off a bridge in San Francisco and was laid up for two years.
I had a terrible motorcycle accident (in the 1970s), in San Francisco as matter of fact. Doing a picture called... oh, this is terrible. It's a very well-known film and I can't remember the name. That's what happens when you get older... I fell off a bridge in San Francisco and was laid up for two years.
I'd done light comedy. In some quarters, About Last Night... is a romantic comedy. So it wasn't like I'd been doing Sophie's Choice my entire career. But for whatever reason, nobody had really given me the room or the ability to be out and out funny. And Lorne [Michaels] and Mike [Myers] and Chris [Farley] and Dana [Carvey], that crop really helped me do that.
I'm not sure anybody's ready to see me in a drama. And loving movies so much, I've seen a lot of comics try to make that transition too fast, and it can be detrimental. And I don't think I've had as much success as I need in the comedy genre to open up those opportunities.
If I'm not in the theatre, I'm in an open mic night or doing a guest set at the Comedy Club, or whatever, just trying to develop stuff.
I grew up in Iowa, and the improv comedy club Comedy-Sportz across the river in Illinois held auditions. They took me even though I was only 16 - you really had to be 18, but they never checked me for ID.