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Don’t go to a comedy club with my husband


What’s that saying – burn me once, shame on you.  Burn me twice, shame on me.

If you’ve ever met me, I think I come off as kind of quiet, shy, and whatever the opposite of flamboyant might be.  I’m sort of vanilla, who just happened to end up married to rocky road.

So last Halloween, the first time we took my husband to the Laugh Floor Comedy Store at Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom, I was worried when they appointed him “That Guy”.  “That Guy” is the guy that they keep coming back to with their jokes, and most “That Guys” sit there with a confused look on his face, and lets himself be the butt of all jokes.

Not my husband.

The first time, every time they put the camera on him, he smiled, made hand gestures, and at one point, started pointing at me, leaning in to grab a kiss.  Can you say “mortified”?  Sure you can.

So I should have known better a few weeks ago when he excitedly asked to go into the Laugh Floor again.  Memories should have come flooding back to me, but no.  It’s like childbirth.  It’s excruciatingly painful when it happens, but the memory wears off when it’s cushioned with a year’s worth of smiles and happiness.

And there I was, seated next to “That Guy” again.  Only this time, determined to make a bigger ass of himself than he did the first time around, every time they put the camera on him, he got up and did some kind of a dance – not as good as the one Elaine did on Seinfeld.  More like this one:

Then of course, he insisted on sliding closer to me on the seat, despite the fact that not only had I moved as far down the row as I could, but I was holding another man’s hand and another woman’s child to make sure no one could possibly think that That Guy was My Guy.

The cast members, however, thought he was hysterical.

It’s a pattern.  During a comedy show at Downtown Disney, when asked for the names of common household items, That Guy yelled out “chainsaw!”.  Seeing the Amazing Jonathan in Plantation?  I think the crowd laughed more at how loudly and oddly Jim was laughing than they did at Jonathan’s act.  And our first comedy show together – which we went to in the middle of a wedding reception for one of his aunts when a cockroach crawled out of the salad plate – I thought it was quirky and cute when he shouted out to the stage when they asked for suggestiosn.

Never again.  There will be no more Laugh Floor for This Girl.  At least not when I have That Guy in tow!

Oh – and let this be an apology to my cousin Rick, who is a phenomenal Improvisational comedian in Philadelphia. Now you know why we never come to the show!

One Reply to “Don’t go to a comedy club with my husband”

  1. It looks like the cast members who see That Guy all day long got a bit of enjoyment out of my adding spice to the role. It’s better then those people who hide their head in their jackets.

    And just last night while watching , well I had a great idea that I’d rather not share here and have someone beat me to it

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