So, last night I caught Jen Brister, another comedian of the “embarrassing stories of family and sex” school, which isn't a problem as long as the jokes are good and the delivery works. Which it did, in an endearing I-haven't-done-this-material-before-so-bear-with-me kind of way. The crack about Qantas deserved to lose, everything else was a hoot that will only improve with time, sleep, and polish. And, frankly, nobody's got better real-life setup material: being invited as an actual lesbian to a focus-group screening of a lesbian porno of the kind aimed squarely at men may be the best source of anecdotal piss-taking ever.
Tonight . . . nothing, if this rain doesn't let up. Or I might drop by the Reading Room for suggestions.