My final tour of 2024 is Austin, Texas, December 10-12th, and Dallas, Texas, December 12-14.
I am offering duos in Austin with Danny Gold. I have been wanting to let her top me for nearly a year now. Do you want to watch? Join us?
Maybe you’re in Dallas and want to take me to Pecan Lodge, the art museum, or simply to your favorite grassy field to smoke a joint and watch the sunset before we retire to my room alone.
It’s my second visit to the state. The last time I went, a decade ago, I had so much fun with friends I’d never met. I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.
Texas is the Lone Star State, which is also the Yelp review I’d give anyone I know from New York or LA who moved there in the last four years.
My pre-viva Texas trip originated on social media—a band invited me to open for them in Dallas. The pay wasn’t great, but it was enough. I kept waiting for something to stop me, and nothing did.
I posted that I was going, and a photographer I’d shot nudes with (foreshadowing!) said he would be in Austin if I wanted to crash at his hotel room. I did and soon found out that a friend I’d met in San Francisco would also be visiting that weekend.
When I arrived in Dallas, I met another Twitter friend for dinner and drinks. I rented a room from some young married lesbians. It was all so new: gay marriage, AirBnB, and me living my life instead of waiting for permission.
A rainstorm set to blow through town that weekend canceled the show, which was outdoors. I never met the guy who hired me. Instead, the other comic on the show took me to the Dallas Improv. I performed in the stupid grey and blue cowboy boots I bought from a girl who didn’t like me because I thought it would give me her powers. To quote Martha Stewart, “She’s dead now. Thank goodness.”
From there, we went to a rap battle he had to host. I accepted when a kind cowboy offered me a drink. Soon, someone asked me to do stand up and give the crowd a downshift from the intensity. I don’t remember a single thing I said. I remember the feeling of absolutely killing it. When I placed the mic back in the stand someone helped me off stage, there was another whiskey waiting, we walked through garlands of string lights for brisket tacos from a truck out back.
Then I hopped a bus to Austin, where I had the vaguest concept of a plan, mostly involving smoked meat.
That week was Fun Fun Fun Fest, and San Francisco & co. were going. I bought a pass. That night at the bar, everyone kept talking about getting coke which, to my drunk ass, did sound Fun Fun Fun, but then I pissed myself. I pissed myself in front of a sticker that literally said, “Don’t Mess Your Pants in Texas.”
I Ubered back to the photographer’s hotel, who notably never ever tried to fuck me, despite seeing me naked many times. Here’s a photo he took:
Yes, my tits were more petite in my 20s. My mother’s tits continued to grow as she got older, too, not that she made any use of it!
ANYWAYS. About five minutes after I pissed my pants, the coke man showed up. My cohort slept through the festival the following day, and I woke up feeling fantastic. Half a mile from the entrance, I had one of those amazingly complicated Bloody Marys that were new (at least to me) and watched as an entire BRASS BAND march by playing Wannabe by the Spice Girls. In the remaining blocks leading to Fun Fun Fun, I stumbled behind a gauzy curtain and into the Wanderlust Yoga festival during its very first year.
I bought a ribbon bracelet in shades of blue and purple that I wore until it disintegrated.
I cannot stress this enough – every single thing that happened this entire day was colored by the fact that I pissed my pants and missed the coke man. I got free cigarettes in the American Spirit tent! Good thing I pissed my pants and missed the coke man! I contemplated getting a spot on the comedy stage before deciding I didn’t feel like it (foreshadowing). I wouldn’t even know there was a comedy stage if I hadn’t pissed my pants and missed the coke man! I rode a mechanical bull in the middle of a field, screaming into the wind with the breath I only had in my body because I’d pissed my pants and missed the coke man.
A new friend started to record me on the mechanical bull once he saw how much stronger I am than I look. My thighs, especially. I taught horseback riding at a JCC camp one summer in Georgia! A college friend got me a gig as a counselor, but I kept sneaking out to fool around with my boyfriend (foreshadowing), so between sessions, I was swapped out for someone with a maternal instinct. And now I teach people how to ride me!
I lost my new friend immediately after when I went back into the American Spirit tent on account of being mildly drunk and very greedy.
My friends finally dragged themselves out of their comedown misery and met me just as the evening chill began taking hold.
I crashed with the friend of my friend that night, and we all did. It was the first time I had ever drank Tito’s, and I kept creeping back to the freezer for a bit more all night, amazed at the fact that I never sprang a hangover.
I also tried Detroit pizza and fig jam on this trip, both in the same bite.
I arrived back in Connecticut high on Texas and was sad about losing my bull video. One night, I looked on Austin Craigslist’s Missed Connection Page.
There it was. The footage was severely shot and grainy. I don’t have it anymore. Looking for and finding myself on Craigslist Missed Connections? That I will treasure forever.
