Why Microphones are from...

Tonight, the PUMP women went on an outing to Comedy Sportz Club--think Who's Line is it Anyway. All in all a fun evening, but knowing that it is an improve show, there is always danger lurking...

They at least had the decency to "ask" for volunteers, but not having ever learned the lesson "it's impolite to point," I promptly pointed out Kristi B. Didn't I know? Am I really so foolish to have also never learned the lesson that those who volunteer others get volunteered.

So I found myself on stage, hot lights beating down on me and the stairs of the crowd penetrating my very soul. Oh, the fear! I don't necessarily mind being on stage, BUT I am not an improve kind of girl. I have to prepare to be in front of a crowd. I need time to wrap my mind around the idea and to get myself organized. This was terrifying, so when I was asked to help off-stage, I quickly took the option not realizing I was headed for something far worse!

The improv game was based on sound effects. I was the sound-man. This meant a microphone. I do not like microphones. I am perfectly fine with my volume. I am boisterous enough as it is! Yet there I was, standing in front of a microphone with the cast telling me not to be afraid to really step up into it. Hello! Terrified of microphones! Not only do you want me to make sound effects into it (not my forte!), but you want me to practically put my mouth on it! Are you joking me!

I don't how long it lasted. I don't know what sound effects I made, though I know I did say "pop" and "bam" (terrible I know). I only know as soon as the skit was over, I made a b-line for my seat. I vaguely remember applause, and I received a coupon to get in free the next time I come. (Anyone want a free ticket?) This little coupon did come in handy as the full panic attack hit me once in my seat. Here I am fanning myself with the coupon, trying not to cry, and trying to return to some sort of comfort level. Classic!

I guess the important thing is I provided great amusement to my friends...