TKOG Who mortifies herself and others

NTKOG #196: The kind of brazen attention-seeker who struts up on stage and demands the crowd laugh at her. At her. Not with her.

I am: terrible at being funny to more than two people in the world at the same time. Though I’m decently funny in real life, the second you set this performing flea on-stage and ask it to dance — nothing.

I am not: great at getting on stage, period, actually. Some call it stage-fright. I call it common sense.

The Scene: Oberon in Cambridge, usually home to The Donkey Show, but for two nights only, scene of the hilarious, schadenfreudistic, cringe-inducing MORTIFIED! Where I was reading.

While the concept of reading my melodramatic tween poetry had seemed hilarious for weeks, within a few hours of the performance, my nerve shattered. Arrived at the venue too early and ducked into a Ulysses-themed bar, where I ordered a glass of Hendrick’s and sat gazing moodily at a battered Moleskine filled with my pre-pubescent poetry. My hands were shaking so hard I didn’t have to tilt the glass to my mouth.

I wish that were an exaggeration.

By the time I got to Oberon, I was decently booze-lubricated — which didn’t stop me from trembling, visibly, when I met my Bad Teen Poetry Slam competitor. (Who, btdubs, couldn’t be sweeter: the second she met me, she handed me a pack of Pop Rocks and exclaimed, “I love your blog!” Are you a cartographer, madam? ’cause you just found the route to my friggin’ heart!)

Made it through mic check without vomiting. Somehow.

Partial view of the crowd at Oberon. The blurriness approximates the view after I slammed down a gin&ginger after reading.

With half an hour to showtime, ran outside, hyperventilating, to call The Ex. Before he could even say hello, I blurted:

TKOG: I’m going to die. They won’t think I’m funny. I’m not awkward enough! Oh god, am I the most awkward and searingly intense person you’ve ever met?
The Ex: Is there a question there? Obviously.
TKOG: I need you to say it.
The Ex:  Okay. Vampire. I’m a vampire. What’s up?
TKOG:  No, come on, I need you to tell me I’m scathingly awkward.
The Ex:  Honey, it’s been a year and I’m only now starting to recover from how awkward you are. You’ll kill.

The pep talk felt good, but what happened inside made me feel even better. Apparently while I was outside badgering my ex, the rest of the readers had already clustered in groups. They stood at the bar, talking in groups of two or three, exchanging chuckles and all wearing better shoes than me. I tried to start a conversation with one of the girls, but she stood by quietly — nerves? — and I finally scratched the fixture.

Eventually, my poetry slam competitor worked her way over and started a pity-conversation with me, but was distracted every ten seconds as yet another of her hundreds of friends entered the performance. And she wasn’t the only one! Every other reader seemed to be rolling in a posse at least forty deep. Spouses, parents, exes, dog groomers — coming to support every reader except TKOG. I have three friends in Boston. None of them came.

I stood there, jamming myself as tightly into a corner as I could, fake-writing in my trusty Moleskine and stifling a panic attack, it hit me: at that moment, I was one sweet strain of Savage Garden away from entirely reliving middle school. A sudden surge of confidence. Yes, goddamnit, my poetry is as bad as I thought! I am awkward enough! Hell, I’m apparently still unpopular and unloved! I WAS GOING TO FUCKING NAIL THIS!

And, guys? Totally did.

The Verdict: Easily one of the most fun evenings of my year. The other readers were absolutely hysterical. Though I was expecting a straight reading, the performances are more of a blend of stand-up and annotated readings of the original material. I laughed, I gasped, I cringed.

As for my own segment, I felt magnificent. Some of the jokes bombed; some of the non-jokes got laughs. And when it came time for the audience to vote for the throwdown winner, well, let me just brag that my shameless mugging for applause has made me the proud winner of a vintage 1989 pair of control top pantyhose and a perhaps unreasonable amount of pride.

One more show tonight, at Oberon in Cambridge at 10:30pm. I’ll be the girl in the corner with no friends. Say hey and we can chat about X-Files fanfic and orthodontist visits.

Tagged as: all the other performers were perfectly friendly but the regulars all knew each other and i guess the first-timers were too nervous to chat, also got to live my life dream of when people are applauding for me raising my hands to make them clap more, angst written, cambridge, cringe, had a great chat with the girl who read x-files fanfic. much giggling., i was way too competitive about the throwdown. when the voting happened i danced while they clapped for me. ABSOLUTELY SHAMELESS but hey i won, mortified, mortified boston, oberon, often think my life would be easier if i weren't a cryingly-shy introvert trapped in an extrovert's personality, quote of the night from a 1985 diary entry: "i don't think life can be worth it if the price to pay is adolescence", reading, seriously i want to read in mortified every month until i die. of embarrassment. when a middle-school crush comes to my show.