April Winchell

I realize you think you know what’s you’re doing on June 7th, but you’re wrong. You won’t be doing that.

It’s time to put down that liter of Popov Vodka and get the hell out out of the house. Seriously. It’s good to shower every once in a while. It builds character. And the porn will still be there when you get home.

Wipe your mouth and head on down to BANG Comedy Theatre. I’ll be appearing live as part of their ongoing show, Pinata.

Pinata is a personal essay show, with a different cast every time. Everyone reads a piece they’ve written, about ten minutes long. As far as I can see, the content is up to the author. It should just be something personal.

I’m going to figure out exactly what I want to read this weekend. I will probably go through my old blogs and create something new from that, or maybe I’ll read from my aborted book of memoirs. Whatever it is, it’ll be the kind of embarrassing, overly honest and unnecessarily revealing spew you’ve come to expect from me.

The cover is $10, which goes to support the theatre. And that’s all very well and good.

But here’s the real draw.

Free candy.

Yes, that’s right. Piles of delicious, high quality candy, yours for the taking. Stuff yourself with handfuls of sugary treats, and don’t stop until your teeth hurt.

It’s just their way of keeping you awake.

Bang Theatre
457 N. Fairfax
8:00 pm
$10 cover
Reservations recommended
(323) 653-6886

By the way, BANG is very close to Canter’s Deli, probably my favorite deli in the world. I used to go there a lot when I was kid. CBS is right across the street, and my dad would take us there after a show.

I have a lot of good memories about that place, and I still feel exactly the same when I go inside. Partially because everything is exactly the same, including the waitress, who have to be in their 90’s at this point.

As good as it is during the day, Canter’s really comes into its own at night. Since it’s open 24 hours, the clientele gets increasingly more colorful as the night goes on.

Once i saw a group of beautiful women in evening gowns with an enormous trophy on the table. As I passed them to go the rest room, I realized they were all men. I stopped in my tracks and looked at them all, and they returned my gaze, smiling.

“You’re all so lovely,” I said.

They giggled and blushed.

“What’s the trophy for?”

“Well,” said the blonde one, “we just came from an adult film awards show. I got the trophy for Best Anal.”

And . . . . scene.

I recommend you stop in for a pastrami on rye after the show. Or even during the show, what the hell do I care? Trust me, if I could be eating pastrami and french fries instead of listening to me talk about my life, I’d have the mustard in my hands right now.