Oh, man.
In looking for something else entirely, I happened to stumble across my very first stand-up set. The one that I did oh, what was it now, four years ago? I am publishing it here so that you can laugh at me. Please note the almost complete lack of punchlines (a style which I have pretty much managed to maintain throughout my four years of brilliance.) My fans might recognize the embryos of a couple of jokes I am still doing. I for one, had completely forgotten about my world-famous legs and eggs joke, until now. And for good reason. Oh, and I've basically just cut and paste it from the word doc into the blogger, so, I think that the carriage returns are indicative of where I thought the audience would laugh uproariously.
Here goes:
I’m black. It’s such a relief that you know.
I like to get that out up front when I meet people so there’s no confusion.
I love being black because it’s wonderful to be part of a community.
I first came out as a black when I was in college.
(I was one of those college blacks everyone talks about…. Experimenting with my ethnicity)
It was such a relief to discover my blackness.
It was like I was part of a team.
We don’t have anything ridiculous like a handshake, but I do have a black pride bumper sticker on my car, I go to the parade each year.
And we do recruit.
One summer I decided to come out to my parents as black.
They flipped.
They said, “Don’t tell the neighbors, don’t tell your grandparents, and for God’s sake, don’t tell your little brother.”
They were concerned for him because he’s always looked up to me. They didn’t want him to get any ideas.
One day, he came up to me and told me he thought HE was black. I was very supportive of him, but he had a really hard time with the coming out process.
He stayed in the closet for a while. It was as if he were two different people. The black man he wanted to be, and the side he showed the rest of the world.
Our mom would make a casserole for dinner, and later that night I would catch him in his bedroom binging on fried chicken and collard greens.
By the time he came out to our parents, they were both in therapy.
They were trying so hard to support us in out lifestyles, but it’s so embarrassing when your parents start hosting dinner parties wearing dashikis.
I have to admit something to you all. I lied. I don’t actually have a brother, I just made it up for the sake of a joke.
Actually, I’m half black and half white. Which is…fine.
My friends always give me a hard time for denying my white side. So last year I decided to reclaim it.
I cut my hair into a mullet and started listening to Lynrd Skynrd.
I had a housewarming party at my new trailer, but nobody came.
I couldn’t figure out why they didn’t accept me at Klan meetings, it turns out they all thought I was too white trash.
I love making fun of white people.
I wouldn’t want you to think that all I think about is race.
I also think about sex and food.
My most recent discover has been Legs and Eggs. Do any of you know about this?
Strip clubs, known for their gourmet food, often have breakfast specials.
For those of us who like some pussy with our pancakes.
Move over bacon…
Now, I like strip clubs as much as the next person, maybe more, but for crying out loud… don’t disturb me when I’m eating.
Get off my table, you're spilling my orange juice!
I’m actually a really big fan of strip clubs.
Some call it an obsession, I call it a hearty appreciation.
I like to go with them with other women. We always go up to the stage and hang out.
As a general rule, we get one of three responses from the dancers:
1. They ignore us. We don’t like this option
2. They come dance for us. We DO like this for us
3. The come of and talk about their day. “Hey ladies… How are you today? I love your hair… Do you blow dry it? I’m so tired today. I’m starting to get a blister on my toe from these new shoes.”
Sometimes they invite us to go dancing with them after their shift. I’m always flattered, but maybe they say that to all the ladies.
My girlfriend is a lesbian.
Which helps.
We always get into these discussions about what straight people would do or think in certain situations. Each of us is convinced that we are THE Expert.
Our biggest arguments are over what men are and aren’t attractive.
The other day she turned to me and said “Check out that guy! He’s a looker!”
“Who?”
“The guy in the denim jacket… He’s all cool and good looking… Isn’t he?”
He wasn’t good looking at all.
Which proves my theory… The reason women become lesbians is because we have such horrible taste in men
In looking for something else entirely, I happened to stumble across my very first stand-up set. The one that I did oh, what was it now, four years ago? I am publishing it here so that you can laugh at me. Please note the almost complete lack of punchlines (a style which I have pretty much managed to maintain throughout my four years of brilliance.) My fans might recognize the embryos of a couple of jokes I am still doing. I for one, had completely forgotten about my world-famous legs and eggs joke, until now. And for good reason. Oh, and I've basically just cut and paste it from the word doc into the blogger, so, I think that the carriage returns are indicative of where I thought the audience would laugh uproariously.
Here goes:
I’m black. It’s such a relief that you know.
I like to get that out up front when I meet people so there’s no confusion.
I love being black because it’s wonderful to be part of a community.
I first came out as a black when I was in college.
(I was one of those college blacks everyone talks about…. Experimenting with my ethnicity)
It was such a relief to discover my blackness.
It was like I was part of a team.
We don’t have anything ridiculous like a handshake, but I do have a black pride bumper sticker on my car, I go to the parade each year.
And we do recruit.
One summer I decided to come out to my parents as black.
They flipped.
They said, “Don’t tell the neighbors, don’t tell your grandparents, and for God’s sake, don’t tell your little brother.”
They were concerned for him because he’s always looked up to me. They didn’t want him to get any ideas.
One day, he came up to me and told me he thought HE was black. I was very supportive of him, but he had a really hard time with the coming out process.
He stayed in the closet for a while. It was as if he were two different people. The black man he wanted to be, and the side he showed the rest of the world.
Our mom would make a casserole for dinner, and later that night I would catch him in his bedroom binging on fried chicken and collard greens.
By the time he came out to our parents, they were both in therapy.
They were trying so hard to support us in out lifestyles, but it’s so embarrassing when your parents start hosting dinner parties wearing dashikis.
I have to admit something to you all. I lied. I don’t actually have a brother, I just made it up for the sake of a joke.
Actually, I’m half black and half white. Which is…fine.
My friends always give me a hard time for denying my white side. So last year I decided to reclaim it.
I cut my hair into a mullet and started listening to Lynrd Skynrd.
I had a housewarming party at my new trailer, but nobody came.
I couldn’t figure out why they didn’t accept me at Klan meetings, it turns out they all thought I was too white trash.
I love making fun of white people.
I wouldn’t want you to think that all I think about is race.
I also think about sex and food.
My most recent discover has been Legs and Eggs. Do any of you know about this?
Strip clubs, known for their gourmet food, often have breakfast specials.
For those of us who like some pussy with our pancakes.
Move over bacon…
Now, I like strip clubs as much as the next person, maybe more, but for crying out loud… don’t disturb me when I’m eating.
Get off my table, you're spilling my orange juice!
I’m actually a really big fan of strip clubs.
Some call it an obsession, I call it a hearty appreciation.
I like to go with them with other women. We always go up to the stage and hang out.
As a general rule, we get one of three responses from the dancers:
1. They ignore us. We don’t like this option
2. They come dance for us. We DO like this for us
3. The come of and talk about their day. “Hey ladies… How are you today? I love your hair… Do you blow dry it? I’m so tired today. I’m starting to get a blister on my toe from these new shoes.”
Sometimes they invite us to go dancing with them after their shift. I’m always flattered, but maybe they say that to all the ladies.
My girlfriend is a lesbian.
Which helps.
We always get into these discussions about what straight people would do or think in certain situations. Each of us is convinced that we are THE Expert.
Our biggest arguments are over what men are and aren’t attractive.
The other day she turned to me and said “Check out that guy! He’s a looker!”
“Who?”
“The guy in the denim jacket… He’s all cool and good looking… Isn’t he?”
He wasn’t good looking at all.
Which proves my theory… The reason women become lesbians is because we have such horrible taste in men
Alana wrote this crap at
10:21 AM
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