[Note: The intention of these “Blearghs” is to chronicle what I expect to be my horrific, pain filled reentry into stand up comedy after 2-3 years of being out of it. (I was sick, but that's another blog for another time.) I may ramble into other, unrelated topics. But I do that on stage, too.]

I'll call it my apricot. I can't call it my “cherry,” because I broke my comedy cherry about 12 years ago.

Wednesday, I went to an open stage hoping to get some time. This turned out to be pretty easy, since there was only one other comic.

In the past, people often asked me, “Doesn't it scare you to go up there in front of hundreds of people?” No. Any comic can tell you that it's much scarier to go up in front of a dozen or less people. You piss three people off, and that's a quarter of the audience. A bit that would get a roar from a crowd of hundreds, gets scattered laughs. Fear ruled the night.

And this was going to be my first time doing stand up in literally years. And I was going up first, to a cold audience.

Oddly enough, the jittery, stomach-churning feeling of being an open stager again left as soon as I grabbed the mic. At least that part stuck with me. I've always been tense and into my own head before shows, then let it all go when I hit the stage.

I did also manage to remember some of my old rules, like making as much eye contact as I could, and talking to the audience, not at them.

But I still sucked.

I totally spaced on the two new bits that I thought were the strongest, (I refuse to pull out index cards or notes on stage), and since my new bit of pure filth got the best response, I went back to some of the old blue stuff.

That was a mistake – as soon as I hit the old bits, I went on autopilot. I'd done them hundreds of times, and I was bored with them. I used to have the skill to hide that from an audience, but I don't seem to anymore.

So I had a tiny audience watching me bore myself on stage.

Grandiose Display Of Suck #1. At least it's out of the way.

Stay tuned for #2.