Where Do Comics Get Material?

I am a stand-up comedian and I perform all over New York City. I get asked by friends and family, where I get my material. Comedy is everywhere, when you pay attention. My life story always has me in some situation that has everyone rolling on the floor, laughing at my expense. The following story is an experience I had this past weekend, that is already working its way into a new joke. 

My younger brother asked me to be his date to a black-tie gala that was being thrown by his employer, Enterprise Rent-A-Car. I agreed to accompany him, on the condition that everything could become material to be used on stage in the future. We were discussing details about the weekend, like timing and transportation and he suggests that we get a hotel room.

The event was being held at a hotel in DC and he thought about getting a room with a few friends, so there would be no concern about drinking and driving. As a New Yorker, drinking and driving did not even register in my head. All I could think was, "What?! Why do we need a hotel room?! I agreed to be your date, not engage in incest!" (Incest humor is best left to Jeff Foxworthy, following a redneck premise). My brother was horrified and embarrassed at the implication. Despite his good intentions, the damage was done. The image was already in my own mind and it made me nauseous.

I felt horrible and started to realize my fears about twisted, sibling relations might have been extreme. Imagine my utter shock and confusion, when I woke up beside my brother, the following morning, NAKED.

Let me start at the beginning. We arrive to what can only be described as the set of Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion meets The Wedding Singer.  My first and only priority is to get drunk as quickly as possible, so I can numb the fact and that I'm 28 and married, accompanying my 26 year old brother to a circus show of dejected bridesmaids and prostitutes, all in the name of comedy. In the space of about an hour, I down 5 glasses of wine and get stoned. Drunk and high, I manage to kill it in the karaoke room, with my rendition of Salt 'n Peppa's "Shoop" and later, I wow everyone with my white girl dance moves.  I was actually starting to enjoy myself.

Around midnight, the event comes to a close, but there's more partying to be had! I go back to the hotel room to change into more comfortable shoes, take one look at the bed, and I realize that I am DONE for the night. I hop on, curl myself into a blanket, and close my eyes.

So, how do I end up naked, you're wondering?

The room starts spinning and I feel sick. I take off my bra, hoping to lessen the nausea. It doesn't help that I'm wearing Spanx and a sausage tight dress. I take those off too and go lay on the cold, tile, bathroom floor, praying for some relief. After a while, I manage to make it back into bed and begin to fall asleep. The next morning, I find my clothes scattered on the floor and my brother cuddled up next to me.

I would like to believe that nothing happened and that I don't regret taking off my clothes, to prevent myself from throwing up all over them. I would like to believe that it was all an innocent situation, that will make for a great joke. But, the last thing I heard before passing out that night, was a voice that said, "If anyone is going to sleep next to Rachel, it's going to be me. She's my sister!"

So, there it is. The stuff that comedy is made of. Despite my best intentions to live a semi-normal existence, I always find myself in situations where I am the butt of the joke. I just hope next time, my butt will be covered.