Al Goldstein wanted a female comic who was not easily offended, owned stilettos and mini-skirts and who could emcee three nights of hardcore shows at The Limelight in New York City. Most female comics back then wore no makeup and talked about getting married and having babies. I, on the other hand, thought makeup was one of the four food groups and had worked with so many male comics over the years that I could distinguish the wife's voice from the girlfriend's voice when I was on the road and answering the phone in the comedy condo. And yeah, I know, your man doesn't cheat on you when he's out of town. And Robert Blake did not kill his wife.
At the beginning of the first show, I was introduced to one of the producers who was coked out of her mind and seemed offended that I didn't want any. Then I met the two male producers, also coked out of their minds. Then I met China Kitty and Carmen, anorexic trannies with grapefruits stapled to their chests. The entire audience was Asian men WHO DID NOT SPEAK ENGLISH. So there I was cracking jokes about American politics (I'm so lying; I was talking about blowjobs) and watching these men stare at me, probably wondering why I wasn't naked. I was supposed to hand out condoms throughout the show but I ended up just throwing them at the audience so they wouldn't rush the stage and trample me with their tiny dicks.
Sidebar: I have not ever seen an Asian dick but in the spirit of stereotypical discrimination I bow to the populace.
I brought the trannies out first and the Asians chanted "They is men. They is men." Had they not ever seen transvestites in the Far East? There are some trying on clothes in my bedroom as I write this for God's sakes. China and Carmen ran off stage. I only wish I had had the sense to follow them. Ron Jeremy got thunderous applause, as did Seka and Candida. Whenever I came back on stage between acts, there was this big collective sigh, like "Oh great, it's the COMIC. With her clothes on."
I was fired the next day.