Let’s talk about accountability groups—you know, those little huddles of hope where people gather, sip oat milk lattes, and say things like, “This week, I vow to be my best self!”

Adorable.

So, you’re thinking about starting a writing group with other comedians? First off—love the ambition, honey. That’s like saying, “Should I start a biker gang with my grandma and her Mahjong friends?” It sounds great in theory, but buckle up, because it’s gonna be a ride.

Oh honey, if I had a dollar for every time someone asked me, "When am I gonna get my big break?"—I wouldn't need a break, because I'd already be rolling in the cash!

Hello, my little laugh-seekers! Today we’re talking about a topic that’s near and dear to my heart—handling critics. Oh, and by “critics,” I mean anyone who thinks they have an opinion worth listening to but wouldn’t know talent if it tap-danced naked on their front lawn.

Ah, hecklers. The human equivalent of a speed bump on the road to comedy greatness. You’re up there, giving the people laughter, joy, and a reason to put down their phones for five minutes, and BOOM—some dude named Chad, three drinks in, decides he’s the real star of the show.

Alright, buckle up, buttercups! We’re diving into a comedy controversy hotter than my aunt’s chardonnay breath at Thanksgiving: Is crowd work considered standup?

Look, not every joke is gonna be a winner. Some jokes just aren’t meant to live past their first awkward chuckle—or worse, that silent vacuum where laughter should be but instead, you just hear your own self-esteem shattering like a glass dropped in a nightclub bathroom.

Behind every successful artist is a whole team making sure we don’t accidentally do something stupid. And at the core of this team? An agent and a manager. But which one is better?

Grab a coffee, put on your most comfortable robe, and let’s talk about one of life’s big questions: should you get a manager?

Let’s spill the tea (or coffee if you’re keeping it Dry Bar clean) on how to get noticed by comedy powerhouses like Comedy Dynamics and Dry Bar Comedy. Making people laugh is only half the battle; getting the right people to watch you is the other half.

For us comedians, YouTube is a double-edged sword—a stage that’s always open, but one that’s forever unforgiving. So, should you put your act on YouTube? Let’s break it down, honey.

You’re in it for the love, right? The applause, the craft, the chance to have strangers cackle at your pain. But let’s not kid ourselves—you’re also wondering, when do I start making money doing this?

Here’s the thing about comedy: it all starts with the premise. So, what makes a good premise for a joke? Let’s break it down.

The secret to promoting yourself and getting noticed is simple: Be bold, be consistent, and be you. Everyone has a unique sparkle—don’t be afraid to let yours shine.

Today, we’re diving into getting booked on a late night show. It’s not just about being funny (though that helps). It’s about navigating the process with precision, professionalism, and a dash of pizzazz.

Today, we’re diving into a topic near and dear to my heart: crafting a killer standup set for television. These tips will help you deliver a set that leaves the audience laughing and the producers calling you back.

The answer isn’t as cut-and-dried as you might hope. It’s a mix of quality, experience, and the opportunities you’ve had along the way. But let’s break it down…

Ah, the two-year mark in comedy. It’s a tricky milestone, isn’t it? By now, you’ve likely moved past the sheer terror of your first open mic (or fifty) and maybe even scored a few laughs that weren’t from your mom in the back of the room. But where should you be?

You know that moment when you stumble across a premise so funny, you laugh out loud in public, and people look at you like you’ve just confessed to loving pineapple on pizza? (Which, for the record, I do—judge me.) You think, “This is it! This joke is going to kill on stage. It’ll be my new closer.” And then... it doesn’t work. Not once.

Over my years in comedy, I’ve learned that retiring a joke is as crucial as crafting one. Here’s my take on when it’s time to bid a joke farewell and why doing so can actually elevate your act.