Comedy Club: Kitchen

Tonight I'm thinking about opening a comedy club.

I'd call it "West Side Stitch."

Or, more accurately, "Help Me Laugh At My Ridiculous Life."

There is potential for multiple venues, though the first would undoubtedly be: my kitchen.

It’s not that I’m bad at cooking; it’s more that when I “cook,” I put something savory on the stove and then walk away and forget about it, even though I had every intention of returning before a pan chars some vegetables to ash or a pot boils all over my linoleum like the adolescent child of Ol’ Faithful. Though the audience of my comedy club would chuckle goodheartedly as they watched my kitchen swirl into disaster during my absence, I’d probably get bigger laughs from my Sherlock-like entrance into my kitchen, in search of some mysterious hissing sound or stench that smells like food (...but burning), and then, as I realize my blunder, exploding into a hysterical, arm-waving fit of useless activity, flinging full pots and pans and utensils through the air from sink to counter to stove as if chaotic ballistics might somehow salvage the smoldering remains of my dinner...

They’d be rolling in the aisles. If I were watching me, I would too.

Alright friends, stay tuned for updates from the school front in the next couple days!