Women of Comedy: Guest Blogger Christina Walkinshaw

Living the Dream

By Christina Walkinshaw 

When I was just a little girl,
I asked my mother, “What will I be?”

Will I be pretty?
Will I be rich?”
Here’s what she said to me: 
“You’re going to stand on a stage and tell strangers how hairy your bush is.” 


Okay, so my mom never said that.  No one in my family, nor myself, could have predicted I would be a stand up comic when I grew up.  I don’t think it’s the sort of thing little girls dream of doing.  I didn't really have any crazy expectations of my adult self when I was a child.  I knew I didn’t want to be a doctor, cuz needles are gross.  Being an astronaut seemed kind of boring since there are no malls in space.  I think my childhood self would assume I would be a mom by now, especially considering the way I used to play The Game of Life(my goal was always to collect so many kids, I had to lay one horizontally down the middle of the car.)  Having won many games of Monopoly, and some other random game called “Go For It”  (does that game still exist?) I considered becoming a Real Estate Agent, but that dream fizzled cuz I always found other people’s houses smelly, thus I wouldn’t be able to sell them.  At one point as a pre-teen, I wanted to be a writer for soap operas.  My favourite soap was The Young and the Restless, so assuming I wouldn’t get my first choice, I figured I’d end up working on All My Children. (I actually sent the producer of All My Children a letter soliciting my services, but never got a response.) 


So when did the dream of being a stand up comic hit me?  I think it crept in around my babysitting years.  I would stay up really late on Saturday nights, waiting for drunk parents to return to their homes.  Since most  of them didn’t return until after 2:00am(which I now understand is last call,) I would watch Saturday Night Live, and Comedy Showcase, with Louie Anderson.  I remember seeing Wendy Liebman and thinking, “She’s hilarious.  I would love to have her job.”  I was thirteen.   


Five years later, I walked into a Comedy Club for my first time.  I sat and watched, hoping that I was funnier than just one comic.  I knew I wouldn’t be the best, but I didn’t want to be the worst.  I wanted to be the second worst.  That would be a start.  Lucky for me, there was one comic that I thought I could out shine, so the next week, I signed up for a spot.  That night, I put on my best pair of Silver Jeans, a shirt that showed off how flat chested I was(am), since most of my first jokes were about my baby boobies, picked up my best friend at her job, (who was freaking out more than I was,) and headed for 88 Albert Street.  I knew that if this night went well, this would be the dream I would chase for the rest of my life. 


Inside the club, I see my name on the line up.  I’m on third.  To this day, I always think going on third is the best.  The crowd’s warmed up, yet not exhausted.  They’re one drink in, but not so hammered  they need to pee, smoke or heckle(though back then you could smoke in comedy clubs, so why did I just write that?)  The host is super drunk.  “Is that normal?” I wondered.  I obviously refrained from drinking since I wasn’t of age, and I didn’t want to use my fake ID name on stage.  What if I became a big star under the name “Jen Lewis?” 


And then the moment comes.  I hit the stage.  The rush is fucking amazing.  All the confusion of what I want to be when I grow up, disappears.  I want to do this.  I love this.  And I seem to be getting laughs, so I guess I wasn’t right for that job at All My Children after all.  I have a new dream, and it’s to be a professional stand up comic. 
Tomorrow night, I will be telling jokes at Boston Pizza in Cobourg.  That’s right people… I’m living the dream.


Follow Christina on her quest to follow her dream at http://blog.walkinsauce.com/