The Flavor of Freshness

Back when I really did stand-up, like, not at my computer, I did all right. Most of the time some of the people laughed and I felt not-very-suicidal afterward. But there was this one time when I truly bombed.

I know bombing is all part of the stand-up comedy experience, and that you're supposed to grow from failure, and that even the best comics have had bad sets ... but I would rather have diarrhea forever than bomb at stand-up. (Mild diarrhea.)

One of the reasons the set went so poorly was that I hadn't actually finished writing the joke. It was not my usual kind of bit; it was more of a Seinfeldian life-observation thing, which should have been a red-flag because I am not as funny as Jerry Seinfeld.

Unfortunately a friend of mine was there to see the disaster, and he used to always bring it up: Where were you going with that joke, Molly? Why didn't you finish it? Can I hear it again? Why were you sweating so much? Did you mean to cry like that?

I refused to even speak of it. Just thinking of the joke brought back the panic and nausea I experienced on stage that night. As far as I was concerned, I would never attempt the joke again.

But it has haunted me long enough.

You guys, I am going to try to finish the bit. Once and for all. Here we go. Don't laugh (but do).

Ahem.

Why is mint the flavor of freshness?

I only ask because I have never liked the flavor of mint. I don't know why; I just don't. When I was little, I used to lie about brushing my teeth because I didn't like the taste of the toothpaste. I just brushed my teeth with water. Then I would get in trouble, because I was disgusting.

Why does it have to be mint? What if cilantro was the flavor of freshness? What if it was basil? I like those flavors. Sure, it would be weird to walk around with the taste of basil in your mouth at first, but don't you think we would all just get used to it?

Before you completely write me off as a freak show with bad breath (I brush now) you should know that this aversion to mint has had a real impact on my life. For one thing, while everyone else enjoys the red-and-white mint after a meal at a classy restaurant, I sit there with the taste of tacos in my mouth. It's unpleasant. Furthermore, it has cost me countless potential friendships. Just think of all of the little conversations people have while sharing Altoids. For example:

Mandy: Hey, can I have an Altoid?

Amy: Sure.

Mandy: Thanks, I love Altoids.

Amy: Me too, let's be friends and tell secrets.

Mandy: Great!

Me: Hey guys, what's going on?

Amy: Nothing.

Mandy: You kind of missed it.

Me: NOOOOOO! NOT AGAIN!

You see? My social development has been stunted. (Clearly.) So perhaps it's time we re-examine freshness. Maybe it's time for a new flavor to step up to the plate. What do you think? Should it be vanilla? Raspberry? Rosemary? What would be your choice?

[And at that point people in the audience would be yelling out stuff like "Beer! Chocolate! Lucky Charms!" and I would be all "you guys are crazy, I love it" and we would laugh and have a good back-and-forth and then I would say "That's my time, you've been a great audience!" and walk off the stage to uproarious applause.]

Redemption.