Tig Notaro: Boyish Girl Interrupted

( chattering )

- ( music playing )

- ( audience cheering )

Thank you.

Oh, my gosh.

Are you kidding me?

My goodness.

( chuckles )

Wow, thank you.

- People are like, "Tig!"

- ( audience laughs )

"Why are you shooting

your special in Boston?"

( audience laughs )

Woman:

Whoo!

I'll tell ya something,

my grandfather...

was originally from Boston.

( audience cheers )

And my mother

lived in Boston

when she was a tiny,

little person.

- Man:
Whoo!

- And this rug...

Hear me out.

This rug I am standing on

has been in my family

since the 1800s

and was in my mother's house

in Boston

- in the '40s.

- ( audience cheers )

Why am I shooting

my special...

in Boston?

- I wanted to show you my rug.

- ( audience laughs )

Why am I shooting

my special in Boston?

No more stupid questions.

( laughs )

Please.

I performed in Las Vegas

and, um, when you do

stand-up in Vegas,

typically, you have to do

an entire week,

seven nights in a row,

two shows a night.

There's an early show

and a late show,

and I bombed

all 14...

( audience laughs )

...shows.

And I'm not a huge drinker

and I don't really gamble,

so I didn't know what to do

between the early

and late show.

So the first night

I thought I'd hang out

in my hotel room,

but it was so far away

from the venue

that I only had

enough time

to walk back

to my room...

stand like this

for two minutes...

and then head back

to the Comedy Club.

The rest of the time,

I thought,

"I'll just sit

in the back corner

of the club,

hang out

between the shows,

and just kill time

having a glass of water."

I'm sitting there

and my agent

calls me to tell me

that the venue

called him

to say

that they thought

it was weird...

( audience laughs )

...that I was just sitting

in the back corner...

and could I please leave

and go find

something else to do.

So, again, I'm sitting there,

my phone rings,

I'm like,

"Hey, what's going on?"

( audience laughs )

"Oh.

Okay."

So humiliating!

It's not like

that call

came from some far-off

headquarters someplace.

That call came

from inside the club.

I'm certain the guy

was looking through

a little window

staring at me

with disgust on his face.

Just like, "Ugh, tell her

to get out of here.

Yeah, I'm sick

of looking at her face."

I still didn't know

where to go or what to do.

So I took the escalator

down to the first floor

and there's

an ice cream shop

down there.

And I'm an adult.

I just-- personally,

I don't sit alone

in ice cream shops

- just...

- ( audience laughs )

And let me be certain...

to not use...

the object

that is the exact shape...

of an ice cream cone.

( audience laughing )

So I finished

my ice cream cone,

I took the escalator

back up,

I did the final show,

and, of course,

I bombed.

I got offstage.

I shook hands

with the audience members.

And they were just like...

"We hate you."

I was like,

"Feeling is mutual."

I said goodbye

to the other comedians.

They hated me, too.

Then I went

into the office

and got paid.

Then I walked

all the way back

to my hotel room.

I put my pajamas on.

I had little pigs

flying all over my pants.

I looked so adorable.

It was like

my one tiny victory

for the whole week.

And then I went

into the bathroom

to brush my tooth.

And that's when I caught

my reflection in the mirror

and saw that I had

a full-blown

chocolate mustache

on my face.

I was like, "No!"

My brain starts replaying

everything

that had

just happened to me.

I was onstage

for an entire hour...

bombing...

with a chocolate mustache

on my face.

And then remember

all up close and personal,

I was...

Not one person...

was like, "Oh.

You have..."

"You..."

Uh-uh, nobody told me.

And then I went

into the office

to get paid...

by the guy

that I am certain

made that original

phone call

telling me

to please leave

and go find

something else to do.

Guess who found

something else to do?

- Woman:
Whoo!

- Me.

I did.

I went and treated myself

to a little chocolate ice cream.

What is my problem?

I am six years from 50.

Can I not

just glance in the mirror

before I go onstage?

What is my to-do list

every night?

Belly full of ice cream.

Check.

- Head onstage.

- ( audience laughs )

What did the owner

of the club think

as I sat there

across the desk

in a tiny office

with a chocolate mustache

on my face?

A grown woman...

wanting to get paid

for 14 bombed shows.

Holding out

my little paw.

Did he think

that I just grabbed

an ice cream cone

out of the hand

of a small child,

slammed it

in my own face,

hopped back up onstage?

Not so funny anymore,

is it, Vegas?

I'm nuts.

Or did he think

that I was trying

to disguise myself...

with a fake mustache,

trying to sneak

back into the venue

he had kicked me out of?

Sorry,

this bit goes as long

as whatever stage I'm on.

( whistling )

Oh, great, there's stairs.

( groans )

Guys, relax!

Relax,

I'm just a person.

What if somebody

walked into the show

right now...

and they didn't

recognize me?

"I thought Tig

was supposed to be taping

her special.

Where did she go?

Where's Tig?"

Guys, it's me.

It's me.

It's me.

Uh, where did Tig go?

Where did Tig go?

Where did Tig go?

Let me see

your little belly.

Where did Tig go?

Oh, there I am.

Oh, you guys are dumb.

Oh, my gosh.

As a comedian,

people always ask me

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