I was not stoned for the High Times sponsored comedy night at the Hollywood Improv tonight. I repeat, not stoned. At first I was mostly just pissed off. After work I went to purchase a bed frame from a dude off of craigslist. Yes, I buy my furniture off craigslist, I found my house and roommate, and my first car here in LA off of craigslist. Craig— the  patron saint of the broke. It was a queen bed frame, I was looking forward to sanding it and  staining it, and it was only 50 bucks. But the dude had given me the WRONG address, and never called, until it was too late.  I wound up with a few hours to kill until Caroline met me out. I decided the best place to go was the Beverly Center. The disgusting monument was built as a pantheon to time wastage. What I didn't expect was to actually PURCHASE stuff there. Dear God in Target, I spent way too much money lolly-gagging around the Beverly Center. I hate malls, I usually want to vomit as soon as I walk in but I'm a sucker for a salesgirl who remembers my name, and showers me with thin compliments when I come out of the dressing room. I WANT to spend money and they smell it. For me shopping at the mall is like menstruating in an ocean filled with sharks. Anyway, when the time comes (way too much money later), I head to the Hollywood Improv, but only after I find my Jeep. I can't remember where I parked it and have to go floor by floor till I see it. And I'm NOT stoned.  Then, already sore from my consumer rape, I get to the comedy club, where I am again abused, taken advantage of and hurt. They make me wait. They say they don't have the table they promised they reserved for me. I'm in a bad mood by this point, though I do have some lovely tops in the car I just bought.  But the Maker's Mark, neat, is working its nimble fluidity through my brain. Remember Chris Rock's bit about no sex in the Champagne Room, well there's no pot at the High Times Comedy Show. And before I know it, I'm LAUGHING.  Hard. Host Ngalo Bealum (above) made me forget my worries, his warm up included suggestions for curing racism— “we all need to fuck til we're the same color… (beat) Hmmm… I may have to go twice,” he said to cheers. “well, it WAS my idea…”  Louis Katz, first up, told how some chick asked him to take his glasses off during sex, “I feel like I'm fucking my college professor she said. I told her when I take off my glasses I feel like I'm fucking an impressionist painting.” But he won me over with his poll of ass men vs. breast me, an overwhelming number of the audience were ass men, measured on the Hootin' Holerin' Scale. The general consensus is you can do more with an ass, for instance, you can slap it around. Then Doug Benson took the mic, and discussed the success of Supersize Me, and said he was going to do a film called SuperHigh Me, which would inevitably feature McDonalds. The ever energetic Greg Proops (from Whose Line Is It Anyway) poked fun at fat Hawaiians and meth heads and threw a million other jokes rapid fire at the audience, that if you were stoned you'd have missed. Drew Carey followed, he was ok…then Drew's all star Improv troupe performed a dizzying array of improv games, it was like watching the Harlem Globetrotters playing charades. I laughed my ass off. I completely recommend it.

The latest information about the HIGH TIMES COMEDY NIGHT AT THE IMPROV can be found at https://hightimescomedy.blogspot.com.

LA Weekly