No, seriously. Put this on my bucket list, immediately.
I became aware of Rome’s Comedy Club some time around the point where I started tweeting, maybe mid-last year. The minute I “discovered” them I was like, ohmygod I need to be a part of this comedy troupe. Obviously that’s entirely do-able because I have so much time on my hands that I have no idea what to do with, between raising three preschoolers as a single mom, working a day job, trying to build an online tarot reading practice in my after hours (I KNOW! this is my
dirty super clean little secret!), maintaining local and international friendships with THE COOLEST GIRLS IN THE ENTIRE WORLD — just to mention a few of the women in my life who I admire to no end. And on, and on, and on. But let me tell you, there MUST be room in my life SOMEWHERE for me to audition for these guys. HOLY EFFING … seriously? I want to be Ms. Funny Pants in the dressing room in the video below because I HAVE BEEN THERE. Anyone who is 5’11” and lives in Italy has been there. I want to do a skit where the horrified saleslady looks on when I ask for SIZE FORTY ONE shoes. Basically their expressions are a mix of shock and curiosity to know that there are actually women on this planet who wear the equivalent of U.S. size 10.
Two funnies I’ll share before you watch this:
1) When I was 28 I was promoted to be the “youngest director ever” of the Rome center of a prominent study abroad programs provider with 7 centers worldwide. Since I was going to all of a sudden have to be “boss” to my former colleagues, and I was TWENTY EIGHT and looked all of SEVENTEEN, I thought, I should wear suits. It’s like how Power Rangers wear their costumes, I thought, Insta-Boss here would get more credibility by wearing proper business suits. So I go shopping (during January saldi, obvs) and start trying things on. N.B.: I HATE clothes shopping. I hate shopping in general which makes me anathema here in Italy. Whatever.
So the quote I’ll never forget when I was trying on clothes was when I came out wearing these pants with a sheer green tank top, that psuedo-silky material, and the commesse (salesladies) made me stand in front of a three-way mirror, and one looks at me and goes, “Are you wearing a bra?” OMG mortification. Um, yes. WTF. I guess I need to tighten those bra straps or something. To this day I still feel self-conscious when putting my bra on and am always very careful to tighten those straps that clearly I’m sagging in. I think the commesse are in league with Italian psychotherapists, creating complexes that necessitate deep inner work on the psyche.
2) After I gave birth to my twin girls, six months after to be exact, I came back to Italy with my lil’ family for a vacation and for the girls’ baptism. I had to get a dress for the ceremony and, ahem, let’s just say I wasn’t as svelte as I once was. I had gone up at least 2 or 3 sizes in the meantime. When I tried on one dress that I thought was cute, the commessa helpfully added, (once again as I’m standing vulnerably in front of three way mirrors in the middle of the store), “This one is particularly good for you because it easily hides your belly.” OMG. Seriously. Commesse are the masters of the “backhanded compliment.” You honestly don’t know whether to say Go F yourself or a humble, wow, thanks for that, I really appreciate it.
Anyhoo, major complimenti to Rome’s Comedy Club. Their source material is familiar to me and all expats–we spend long dinners and cocktail hours trading our ha-ha stories about life in Rome as a foreigner. OhmyGOD I have tons of ideas for their next video. I totally need to get in touch with them.