Party Hardly!

I am not the reason parties were invented.

I just got in from attending Bill Word's 50th birthday party. I don't recall describing Bill in this blog before. He is, hands down, the top producer of comedy in Orange County, if not in all Southern California. You can't begin to count all the comics that have come through and performed in one or more of his shows. In addition to staging one or more open mic shows every week, Bill is also constantly rotating through his three big shows: California's Funniest Female (held annually), Orange County's Funniest Person (held annually), and the Ultimate Laff-Down (held between the other shows). Each is a multi-week contest with cash prizes, and every comic to hit the scene in the last ten years in SoCal has been in one or more of them. (I competed a few times in opening rounds of the Laff-Down.) To put it simply, there are a helluva lot of comics out there who owe Bill thanks for stage time and advice. I am proud to count him as both mentor and friend.

Every year Bill holds a party for his birthday. In the past it's always been a roast, and up until 2 years ago, only women comics were invited to perform. I was ecstatic to be invited two years ago when Bill opened up the roast to all comics. The down side of staging a show for his birthday, though, is that Bill always ends up working the show as well. I suppose it's the producer's bane— he is happiest when his shows are run his way. Since this was a milestone birthday, Bill opted to skip the show this year and just have a big get-together with as many people as possible.

I had a great time seeing a lot of comics that I worked with during my time on stage. There must have been 60 - 70 people there when I took off. I knew about 20% of them personally and maybe another 10% by name or reputation. There was a lot of great talent in that room.

Unfortunately, I am not a party person. Lord, I have tried to be one over the years. Sometimes, like tonight, I even forget how horrible I am at parties until I've been there an hour or so. I'm sure those who know me well enough or long enough to have been to a few parties with me will agree. I seem to have been born without the party instinct. I can walk up to someone, shake hands, exchange heartfelt greetings, and within 60 seconds we'll both have those awkward stares, until (usually) the other person begs himself or herself off to go get another beer or something. Tonight, at one point, I even managed to break an entire group up into silence, followed by dissipation. Honestly I feel what it must be like to be a uniformed cop and walk into a roomful of people having a good time.

But, despite this effect, I did enjoy the party, and it was only after leaving that I grew melancholy— a mood which is lightened by me writing about all this.  :-)

OK, short post tonight. Until next time!

"The great advantage of being a writer is that you can spy on people. You're there, listening to every word, but part of you is observing. Everything is useful to a writer, you see— every scrap, even the longest and most boring of luncheon parties."— Graham Greene