by Bobbie Brown
Nupa snuggled down on Tilky’s lap as he took it all in. He promised me that no matter what, he’d be there for us, like we’d been there for him when he needed it. Soon, it would no longer be just the three of us. It would be the five, maybe the six of us. Nupa, sensing the love that surrounded her, started to fall asleep. She seemed a little more tired than usual, but otherwise, glowing.
•••
I was scribbling away at the desk in my room in Arleta.
According to a comedic theory developed by author William Lang, there are only three parts to most comedic bits. S = Setup, A = Anticipation, and P = Punch line. SAP. Every story needs a payoff. A satisfying conclusion. Hm.
I met a guy who said his last girlfriend was the craziest bitch he’d ever met. I said, “Challenge accepted.”
I looked at the pages for a second, tore them out of my notebook, and placed them in a folder called “BOBBIE BROWN’S KILLER SET.”
I hadn’t talked to Jimmy in a week or so, since he’d put me on the Comedy Store schedule really, really late. I was on after midnight, after the headliner, the dead hour when rookies and the waitresses and staff get up on stage and most of the audience has already gone home. Having always headlined or coheadlined up ’til then, playing to a tired, empty room was a shock to my diva sensibilities. There was no crowd to speak of, except for my poor friends who had been there for six hours waiting, wondering when the hell I was going on. By the time I did, everyone was either drunk, half-asleep, or over it.
Afterward, I cornered Jimmy, in full Bobbie the Bulldog attack mode. “FUCK TO THE NO, JIMMY!” I yelled, “Don’t ever do that to me again!”
He smiled patiently, as usual. “This is what it’s about, Bobbie. You’ve gotta get up, every night. Whether you’re in front of a hundred people, or five. You’ve gotta get up. That’s how you get good.”
•••
Tilky popped his head around my bedroom door. He looked good; it was his first day shooting a movie, and he’d been working hard all weekend, studying the script.
“Hey, thanks for the worm by the way,” he said.
I had planted a fake plastic earthworm in his charcoal face wipes because, well, the day didn’t feel complete unless I’d pranked Tilky.
“What are you doing today?” he asked.
“Just working on these jokes; I’ve really hit a wall. The last few shows have sucked, big time. I need new jokes, better jokes…”
“Bobbie, can I be real with you?” Tilky asked. “Sometimes you’re funnier in real life than when you do stand-up.”
“I am?”
“Yeah. Next time you’re on stage, just pretend you’re telling me a story. Trust me.”
I thought about it for a while. Surely it couldn’t be that simple?
My phone pinged—it was a text message from Jamie Kennedy. We hadn’t spoken since the incident at the Dojo. I waved goodbye to Tilky, wished him good luck on set, and opened the text.
“I’m ready for your apology,” it said.
I sneaked a quick peek at his Instagram—he was wearing the sweaters I got him. The nerve! I screen-grabbed a few of the photos and sent them to him with my response.
“Stepping up your fashion game, I see…”
Jamie apologized for being out of touch. He said his mother had been ill and that it had been a difficult time. Whatever wounded feelings I had immediately evaporated. Family’s more important than any of this shit.
“I’m so sorry, Jamie. I’m here for you.”
I wasn’t sure if he’d respond; his track record suggested it would take him eight to twelve hours to get back to me. But he wrote back straight away.
“Thank you.”
Then Jimmy called—he had a cancellation that night at the Dojo, would I be up for performing?
“Yeah. Let’s do it. Sign me up.”
This was the day. I was going to try something new. I was going to tell ’em stories, like Tilky said. Open up. Be myself. What else is there? I’d been playing a role, the Cherry Pie Girl, my whole life. Now, with comedy, I had a chance to move beyond that. And I was going to take it. Tonight.
•••
That night, I got up on the stage with Tilky, Juliette, Gretchen, and Sharise in the front row. All of them looking at me with “you got this” expressions on their faces. I took a deep breath and started talking.
“It’s no secret in Hollywood that I’ve been trying to quit my addiction to sex with younger men. My dog, on the other hand…”
I relaxed and took my time telling the story. Fleshed it out into a good ol’ yarn, as if I was chatting to my best friend. Or my dad. Just a little kitchen banter among family. I took it easy, invited the audience to get involved, and by the time I got to the part of the story where Nupa’s pregnancy test came back positive, the whole room was rolling with laughter. Dare I say it, I think I was better than the headliner. Jimmy came up to me backstage, delighted.
“Bobbie, that was a breakthrough performance! Really killer. Your best set ever.”
Seemed like I was getting closer and closer to cracking the code. I knew it was going to take time, I knew I still had work to do. But that night, I had turned a corner. Who needs sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll, anyway?
I was high on that feeling for days.
Coda:
The Last Word
So, as you know, I love to have the last word. That much hasn’t changed, and maybe it never will. That fact is among a few other things I’m trying to accept about myself. Like the fact that I’m still single. That I’m still shy about meeting new men. That I’m still scared of being lied to and getting hurt. That after a lifetime of lessons, there’s still so much to learn.
Every day, I try to be grateful for all of my good fortune, and for my loved ones. And when I wonder why life still feels unsettled, I remind myself that some creatures are meant to live in motion. Some of us are meant to hustle hard every day. We’re meant to pursue our dreams, not just to make ends meet, but because that’s what keeps us alive and vibrant. The longest relationship I’ve had has been with my dreams. Perhaps they’ve been my soulmate all along.
So I’ll plow ahead with this new idea, dive into that new career option, and on or off stage, search for the funny. Because there’s a punchline to nearly every story, if you’re brave enough to wait for it.
Be patient, work, strive, and hold on, no matter how bleak things may seem, because the dark times can take us to the brightest places. The people who hurt us can teach us valuable lessons. Our struggles are what give us the strength and wisdom necessary for individual growth. Our losses make room in our hearts for the most wonderful new people to enter. Curses can be blessings in disguise, and dead ends can push you onto a completely new path. There’s always hope to be found if we seek it. As long as there are people who love you, you will always be okay. If there’s no one around to love you, well, love yourself.
You’re sure to come out on top.
Love, Bobbie xo
Acknowledgments
Thank you to Gretchen Bonaduce for helping me make this second book a reality. To Caroline for “getting me” and being my partner in this book writing journey. To Taylar for understanding her crazy mom and always helping her “grow up.” To my mom, Judy, and stepdad, Mr. Billy, for their unyielding support and advice. To everyone at Rare Bird for believing in my story and continuing to give it life. To my new friends in comedy who help me find the funny. To my brother, Adam, his wife, Laura, and my nephew and little lobster, Ollie, for reminding me what it means to be in an amazing family and the meaning of joy again after so long. Thank you, all. I love you.
ook with friends