Sitting on Babies: Sitting Down with Becky Whittemore

When comedians Becky Whittemore and Brooke Jacob teamed up to make Sitting On Babies, they focused on two topics that they had first hand experience of: providing childcare in New York City and being featured on reality television. In fact, Becky's reality tv story is so amazing that an episode of Spike TV's show "Ink Master" was named after her experience. I want to share this story, as told to me by the incredibly endearing Becky, and then we'll get to the webseries (pinky swear).

So a friend of Becky's asks if she wants to get a free tattoo for this tattoo competition show, Ink Master. Since Becky has been thinking about tattoos anyways, plus this is a FREE tattoo from a real professional (I mean, the show is called Ink Master), it seems like a no-brainer.

Becky Whittemore

Fast-forward to the show's taping. Becky is asked to choose between three styles: Tribal, american traditional or pin-up. She goes pin-up. There's a speed element, so Becky doesn't have much time to hem and haw over what she wants with the tattoo artist. Being from Georgia, she goes with a pretty lady sitting next to a big peach. The artist draws up a sketch, and Becky asks for fuller hair on the tattoo. And one more thing- can she be barefoot instead of wearing heels?

The tattoo comes along quickly and somethings looks a little off to Becky, but heck, it's a free tattoo! A week later, Becky realizes why it looks so funny. Can you see it?

You're right, the peach looks a little (a lot) like a butt (err, sorry Becky!) but that's not it. Okay, try now:

That's right. A week after getting her tattoo she realizes that her pin-up has two right feet. The title of the episode featuring Becky's tattoo? "Permanent Mistakes".

"When you're on the set you realize how completely fake all these shows are. The scenes are edited together out of order, and they might have you answer questions on air and then splice it with other footage to make it seem like you're talking to the host. We wanted our series to show that absurdity," Says Becky.

Okay- that was a tangential but fun way of getting to the show, Sitting on Babies:



For those of you who are unable to just watch the above clip (maybe you're at work, it's cool, no judgement) this is a show about two New York City nannies, in a style that perfectly mimics the worst of all those damn TLC shows that we love to hate (props to director Tim Young and the rest of their talented crew).

"I'm a comedian but Brooke is a for-real legit actress. We met at an Upright Citizens Brigade improv class and knew we wanted to work together," says Becky. "We decided to make the show loosely based on our lives. We write about real life stories but not entirely directly, since we don't want to freak anyone out and we still need to get paid."

Brooke Jacob

On comedy site Funny or Die their three episodes have collectively been viewed about 25,000 times so far, which is pretty damn impressive (and that doesn't even include people like you who may have just watched it on YouTube).
You can subscribe to their YouTube channel for new episodes.

Becky was ridiculously nice and it's cool to see how she and Brooke have turned an idea into such a well-made show. You can't help but root for them as they keep making awesome happen.

Q&A with Gorgeous Ladies of Comedy Founder Glennis McCarthy

In 2010, Glennis McCarthy founded G.L.O.C. aka the Gorgeous Ladies of Comedy, a fantastic resource for comedians and fans alike. The site has now expanded to the stage. Glennis tells us all about it...

Wisecrack: Thanks for taking the time to talk with us! First off, how did you get started in comedy?

Glennis McCarthy: Thanks for the interview! I moved to New York at 19 to pursue a career on Broadway which was, in my mind, a shortcut to stardom. (In lieu of college, which takes so long to make you famous.) When I realized the level of skill it took to make it in that world and remembered that I really had no formal training, I tossed out my character shoes and fled the scene. (JK I hung on to them. Those shoes are expensive!) Broadway requires a commitment level and passion I just didn't have at 19 (and still might not), but I was still hungry for stage time. I saw an ad in Backstage for a short form improv group at NY Comedy Club and had done some short form in high school, so I auditioned and started performing weekly with them. I met some amazing comedians there who really made me feel like I had a community in NY, but the show was a little unorganized so we all ended up moving on. That was around the time that the UCB Theatre, then housed in a converted strip club on 22nd street, was getting a little buzz and my friend Kirby urged me to go check it out. I waited on the never-ending line outside the theatre to see ASSSSCAT and after that one show, I was hooked. Everyone was so smart, so funny and the endless possibilities of long-form got me psyched to try it. I've been performing there, and all over New York at various clubs and theatres doing varying forms of comedy, ever since.

W: What exactly is the G.L.O.C. and why did you create it?

GM: G.L.O.C. or Gorgeous Ladies of Comedy (a tip of the hat to the badass bitches of GLOW -- Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling) and, in html form, TheGLOC.net is a community-building website for and by women doing comedy across the globe. Right now new content is going up on the site daily, we've got two shows running, G.L.O.C. Live at Littlefield Brooklyn and The GLOCDOWN at The PIT in Manhattan, and a third show, an all-improvised stand-up open mic, in the works. I'm also working on producing some original video content and we'll have video from the live shows and two podcasts. It's a lot, but the good thing is this is a community effort and I've got a lot of ladies helping out. 

I get asked why I started G.L.O.C. all the time and honestly I think I originally started it because I needed a new project. I am very project-driven, as are most comedians, and was once of the mindset that the more projects I had going the better my chances of success. (I found this actually has the opposite effect.) So I started up a blog (http://gorgeousladiesofcomedy.wordpress.com) and began interviewing the ladies around me doing the kind of comedy I thought was interesting and unique. When I was quickly getting hundreds of hits a day and had ladies wanting to write columns for the site I realized I was on to something. My mission with G.L.O.C. has now changed a bit. There is still the community aspect, as I think that's a very important part of getting and keeping more women involved in the scene, but I also want to encourage women to do comedy for each other. It's tough because we have to appeal to the people in charge and they are, more often than not, men. I just have this ridiculous notion that when we start doing comedy for each other the tides will shift. I think we've already seen this to be true with the success of Bridesmaids!

W: Yeah, we've seen the proven success of Bridesmaids, Parks and Recreation, Ellen. This year there are also many more female-led sitcoms on TV. Some people are calling the success of women in comedy a "trend'... what are your thoughts? 

GM: It is most definitely not a trend. A trend is something that is over the minute it's called a trend (I'm stealing that insight from my brilliant husband, Matt McCarthy) and, try as they might (*cough-Lee-Aronsohn-hack*) this is much more than a trend. I for one am sick of seeing men write cliched dialogue and characters for women. Women are now writing for women and yes, sometimes it includes period jokes and crying while eating oversized muffins, but just as often it consists of brilliant and heartfelt humor which we can all relate to. We are weird, we are crass, we are classy, and most importantly, we are funny. It's time to recognize that on a larger scale and I think this is the just the tip of the iceberg. Iceberg lettuce, which has no calories so we can stay skinny and get on TV.

W: Have there been surprises (or challenges) along the way?

GM: There was a point where I felt like I was losing myself to the project and that was really hard to come to terms with. I put G.L.O.C. on hold for a while so I could figure out if this was something I wanted to devote all my time to and to figure out how to keep my own passion for performing alive in the process. I am a caretaker by nature and often to my own detriment, so I have to remind myself that it's OK to give myself some creative freedom where I need it outside of or even within G.L.O.C. Hosting the live show--and doing stand-up and storytelling when and where I can--has really helped renew my passion for G.L.O.C. again. I don't feel like it's a monster I created and am now beholden to; I've got much more control over things now. I've also learned that business relationships are just that--business. It was a difficult lesson to learn, but I'll never make the same mistakes again. It's all a learning process and I know more challenges are ahead, but I'm in a really good place now and really excited with the upcoming projects. (Projects!)

W: What comedians made an impact on you when you were young?

GM: The first woman I ever had a comedy crush on was, hands down, Tracey Ullman. She was (and still is) an fearless and flawless performer and I watched her show religiously as a kid. Before that I remember seeing Lily Tomlin on Sesame Street (as Edith Ann) and maybe not realizing just how funny she was at that young age, but I remember having this sense of overwhelming awe at her performance. Later in life I became obsessed with Weird Al and thought for a hot minute I would take over when I got older. (I wrote a pretty mean parody to Girls Just Wanna Have Fun... Girls Just Wanna Chew Gum. Clearly I was a child prodigy.) Once I started at UCB my comedy crushes were, of course, Amy Poehler, but also Miriam Tolan and Jodi Lennon who were, again, just these fearless women hanging with the boys on stage. It was a much more male-dominated scene when I started and those women helped me feel fearless when I took the stage.

W: Who's making you laugh, lately?

GM: I hate to be diplomatic, but there are just so many women I love that I would hate to list them and leave someone out. Anyone I put up on the site or on one of our shows makes me laugh. We did a Mixer at The PIT a few weeks ago and had over 60 performers doing stand-up, sketch, improv, characters and music. I am surrounded by so many brilliant women I just can't name names. Don't hate me for this answer. I can't stand the thought of someone hating me.

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If you're in New York, check out the upcoming G.L.O.C shows:

Wednesday, May 2nd, 2012, 7PM

The G.L.O.C. ReLaunch Party

Littlefield Brooklyn

622 DeGraw Street, Brooklyn

Featuring performances by Kristen Johnston (Emmy Award-winning actress and author of "Guts"), Julie Klausner (author and host of the popular "How Was Your Week?" podcast) and Kambri Crews (author of "Burn Down The Ground: A Memoir"), a DJ'd dance party, gift bags, treats, drink specials, raffle prizes and more!

Tickets are $8 in advance, $10 at the door: http://www.littlefieldnyc.com/event/111047/

Monday, April 16th, 2012, 8PM

Comedy Central's Corporate Retreat: G.L.O.C. Edition

UCB East

153 East 3rd Street, NYC

Featuring: Kara Klenk, Annie Lederman, Kate Berlant, Amber Nelson, The Reformed Whores and a special surprise headliner!

Hosted by Glennis McCarthy

Tickets $5: http://east.ucbtheatre.com/shows/view/2897

The Rejection Show: Elna Baker

Mormon comedienne and storyteller extraordinaire Elna Baker talks about rejection.

(You may remember Baker from her incredible This American Life story about working as a doll nurse at FAO Schwartz.)

Laurie Kilmartin On Balancing Motherhood and Setlists

(Photo by froggygrl727)

By Laurie Kilmartin, Originally posted on Babble

It was 8:45 PM on a Saturday night and the babysitter was not here. I had to be onstage, telling jokes at a New York City comedy club, at 9:15. I'd already left her a voicemail in my high school Spanish.

 

"Hola, uh, es la mama de William. Donde?"

I would be late for my spot if I didn't leave immediately. I wrapped my one-year-old son in a blanket and ran for the car. The babysitter and I communicated via Babelfish.com. I would write an email in English and convert it to Spanish. She would do the same, in reverse. I thought we were good for sabado. Damn. Merde?

I had four fifteen-minute sets that night, at three different comedy clubs. My final set ended at about one a.m. In theory, William and I could hang out in the car between spots, but while I was onstage, I'd have to hand him to somebody. I pulled up to the club at 9:12. Five or six comedians were standing out front. Some I knew, some I didn't.

"Hey!" I shouted, flipping on the hazard lights. "Can anyone sit with the baby? I'll pay you twenty-five bucks and I'll be back in twenty minutes." A comic named Maggie slid into the back seat.

"Thanks," I said, handing her the diaper bag. "Now, try not to kidnap him."

"You're no fun," she said. Maggie rode with us for the rest of the night, pocketing about a hundred dollars, which was not much less than me.

This wasn't supposed to be my life. I wasn't going to have kids. When I got pregnant by accident, I was forty and single. But also bored. I took a "Hey, why not?" approach to motherhood. My belly became a prop that I took on the road. We had a good time, the fetus and me. Indiana, Texas, Montreal. We flew to Alaska in my fourth month and L.A. in my eighth. My last show as a non-mom was the night before I delivered. When the baby came, I lost fifteen minutes of material.

And my lifestyle.

Comedians have the best lives. I used to stay up until four a.m. and sleep until whenever. Now, most mornings I wake up like the amnesiac from Memento. I have no idea where I am, or whose child is crying. Next to my bed is a helpful Polaroid of my son, captioned with the words: "You are his mother and his diaper needs to be changed."

William's dad is also a comedian. We took the baby on the road when he was six months old. My boyfriend would do his set, then run back to the green room, where I was waiting to pass him the swaddled baton. The emcee would kill a few minutes onstage until I arrived. It worked because there were two of us.

Now the baby is older, and there's often just one of us.

The boyfriend and I usually work alternate road weeks, but recently we each booked separate gigs during the same week. Neither of us could afford to cancel. We figured it would cost less for me to take William to Michigan than for my boyfriend to take him to North Dakota. I found a sitter online. She came to the hotel at seven p.m. I debriefed her on her mission as I saw it, which was to keep my son awake for as long as possible so I could sleep in the next morning.

"He's gonna start yawning in an hour. Don't buy into it. If you cave and put him to bed, he's gonna wake up at six a.m. And that can't happen because I will be dead by Sunday. I need you to keep him talking until eleven or so."

"Like, sleep deprivation? For a two-year-old?"

From the tone of her voice, I could tell she was not completely on board.

"Of course not! That's a torture technique. Jeez. All I'm saying is, when his eyes start rolling back into his head, point out the window and yell, 'plane!' That's it. Now, if he happens to spend the next thirty minutes looking for a plane that isn't there, well, that's his choice, isn't it?"

"Uh huh."

"Five or six times over the course of the evening should do the trick. And you don't have to say 'plane' each time. 'Firetruck' works. If you really want to keep him hopping, try 'Daddy.'"

I returned to the hotel at 1 a.m. I'd done two fifty-minute shows. I was tired.

"What time did he go to bed?" I asked.

"A little before eight."

Being home is hard, in a different way. After William was born, I cut back on the road work and took a day job writing for a now-defunct website. We had health insurance and the basic bills were paid. But I was in a frustrating position as a comic. 

Sunday-Thursday spots in New York City don't pay much, or at all. But they are the best shows to try out new material. There is no pressure to kill. And new jokes get fine-tuned for the weekend shows, which do pay. That system worked great before I had a kid. Now, I had to hire a sitter for those nights. And all of a sudden I was out $10-$50 dollars every time I did a set. I went from eight to fifteen development sets a week to about two.

My growth slowed, despite the fact that I had so much more to talk about. The problem was solved for me in January, when the day job ended. Now I'm back on the road, doing long sets where I have plenty of opportunity to sneak in new stuff. The corporate benefits are gone, but so is the stagnation.

And the boyfriend and I have settled into a groove. When we're both in NYC, we perform on alternate weeknights, or one of us will do an early set, and race home so the other can make a late set. We spring for a sitter on weekends and the occasional miercoles o domingo. My schedule's not the same as it was during the non-mom days, but is anything?