Oh, Wanda. What can I say? Or, better yet, how can I say it nicely? Last night at the Fillmore Miami Beach, you strutted out on stage, all Saturday Night Fever style, decked out in all white and beaming with confidence. The audience wanted to smother you in adoration. Why shouldn't they after hilariously memorable bits c/o you and your squeaky yet deadpan comedic delivery in Pootie Tang, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Crank Yankers, and Monster-in-Law?
The theater was full of middle-aged housewives, T-shirted twinks, and their boyfriends, all eagerly applauding the mere act of you standing on a stage and thanking your opening act, Keith Robinson.
And speaking of Mr. Robinson, he's someone who truly knows how to
warm-up an audience. Too bad a third of the crowd was running around the
lobby, using the restroom, buying beers, and scrambling to their seats while he busted out an endless silly string of offensively
fresh jokes.
They included a bit about sticking his dick inside of a
pencil sharpener and pretending to sharpen it in first grade, digging
"older ladies, the kind you take to a Denny's on a Tuesday for a free
meal", and how his baby's mama keeps on threatening to kill his
turtles...although he doesn't own any turtles. "I'll give you some
turtles, steal them, and fuck them up then!" Robinson said in a
crazy-eyed impersonation of his ex.
then Wanda, when everyone's cheeks were starting to hurt a bit from
smiling and chuckling, you started your act. And at first I thought it
was only me. I wasn't really laughing. You were jittery -- a bit nervous
once you began to talk, trying to bounce energy off the audience. But
the chemistry was awkward, making for a few clumsy transitions.
The
laughter was never really boisterous. It was a little louder at points, but
never that kind of chuckle that would endow audience members with kickass abs from 100% pure ha-has. It was a little sad, because all of us in the MIA wanted you to be freaking hilarious.
was a tad too much complaining, and there were a lot of jokes about
being old, alienating some of your audience. But then again, there were
interesting glimpses into your life. Like how your partner, Alex, is
French, "which is better than white" and how she tells your toddler son,
Lucas, that he has a huge dick in the language of love whenever she
changes his poopy diapers.
Actually your best jokes, if not a little
mean, were about your two-year-old twins: Lucas, who also has a huge,
uneven head and will surely work a job where his name will be stitched
to his uniform, and Olivia, who sings and dances to "The Itsy Bitsy
Spider" like she's a pint-size stripper in training.
And
I'm sorry to tell you this Wanda, but the audience started to trickle
out of the theater well before your act was over. And I apologize for
having to write this because I really wanted to enjoy you. And I feel
you could've done better. But last night just wasn't your night.
