Am off to the wilds of New York City for the Ann Podolske Freeze Your Keister Off Tour.
Actually, I'm heading south to stand in line (or "on line," as New Yorkers are fond of putting it) in the wee hours of Wednesday morning for the honor and glory of an audition for "Last Comic Standing." Am supposed to get two minutes to show my stuff, but am realistically going to get more like one (or so I've been told).
Have to say, I'm a little dubious about this enterprise (it's going to be freakin' cold down there--20 degrees with winds up to 30 MPH), but the support I'm getting from folks who know I'm doing this (including my gal Linda) has been tremendous. Enormous, even. I wish I were as enthusiastic about this endeavor as my peeps are, but then, I also wish I could wake up as happy about a new day as my lab mix Shwea, and that's not going to happen any time soon, either.
Part of the problem is fatigue. I'm feeling tired, and I don't know why. Jennifer, coworker and Comedy Buddy extraordinaire, says nerves are the likely culprit. That makes sense--when the going gets rough, I do tend toward the sleepy.
Flight or fight? Nah, I'd rather nap, thank you.
And you know, this may be an exercise of futility the likes of which I haven't seen since I was trying to be a straight girl, but then again, it might not.
So, off to NYC I go. I'll let you know how it goes, not to worry....
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