By Harris Bloom
Life on the Z List
A few weeks ago, I appeared on "The New Yorkers," a cable talk show that appears on UHF cable. I have no idea what UHF means other than I used to watch Video Jukebox on it when I was in college.
Following the instructions I received from Lenn Cooper, one of the show's producers, I made sure that my hair, makeup and styling was done before arriving at the studio. He also gave me directions via the subway and walking (I guess not many of their guests arrive by limo or even taxi). I was told that even though the show starts at 11 (LIVE!), I had to be at the TV studio at 9 so that they can cut out a piece of the DVD of one of my Gotham Comedy Club performances as a clip for the show.
I walked in to see a few people sitting in folding chairs staring at me. (Apparently that was the "green room.") For some reason I just stood there in silence until one of the women pointedly said, "Good evening."
"Ummm, hi," I replied, before finding out that I was in the right place. Eventually I made my way back to the engineer's room. I gave him my DVD and was working with him in cutting out the clip I wanted for the show when one of the producers, a really short 50-something year old Joe Pesci sounding wannabe with his graying hair slicked back, came in and yelled, "You're supposed to bring it IN already cut!"
"Well, I, uhh, called...they said I could bring it in as is."
"WHO said that?!?
"Ummm, Lenn Cooper?"
"Look, we have no time for this!" He instructed the engineer to start working on something else. I saw the person who got me on the show. She had seen me at StandUp NY the previous week. "I'm sure you'll do fine,"she said, "I don't remember any of your act but I'm sure it was funny."
Then I asked her how I looked.
"You look fine, besides, believe it or not, everyone looks better on TV. Trust me."
At 11:00 PM, the show started. I was watching on a monitor in the green room. Some of the guests included...
- A singer who finished 4th in Star Search five years ago
- A guy who did a documentary about suicide bombers
- The host's friend (I assume) who brought newspaper clippings and read them
- A red-headed 20-something year old guy who spoke about mysticism and the wonders of smoking and eating cannabis. He had a hand written "Proud to be Poor" sign hanging off of his shirt pocket. He was insane.
- A salsa singer whose clip had him singing solo in front of a blue florescent backdrop. His voice was barely audible over the music. If Pedro from Napoleon Dynamite ever decided to sing salsa, I think he should study that performance.
- A 40-something year old stripper who's trying to make it as an agent.
The stripper told me that New York really sucked her in when she first arrived. "It was crazy. like heroin...as soon as I got here, it was in bloodstream...I was hooked. I haven't left since."
"Where did you come from?" I asked, expecting to hear Kansas, or perhaps Bulgaria.
"New Jersey."
The show went on and on and on and on - finally around 12:45 AM when cannabis boy went on, I knew I was next. How did I know? Because there was no one else there.
My interview lasted about 10 minutes, which included a clip...I have no idea if it was the right one though. I don't know because not only couldn't I hear the clip while in the studio but when I got home to watch the tape, they forgot to start taping until half way through the interview. The host seemed intent on asking me boring, in-depth questions about my accounting gig and whether I think companies still cook the books (when I replied, "yes," he reacted as if I told him where Hoffa is buried.)
After my piece was over, I walked back to the green room to get my coat. I was exhausted and dreading the three subways it would take to get home. The insane, cannabis-eating, mystic was standing there, as if to greet me.
"Dude," he started, "I was about to leave but I started watching your interview and the clip....Holy shit, that was funny!"
"Really?" Thanks!"
"Just wanted to tell you that," he added, and then gave me the peace sign, and walked out.
The subway ride didn't seem so bad.
-H.B.
