Laurie Kilmartin is based in New York City and has appeared on "Standup Standup" (Comedy Central), "Girls Night Out" (Lifetime), "Friday Night" (NBC) and "Comedy On The Road" (A&E)

"On the Road" by Laurie Kilmartin
(The following are brief compilations of some essays she wrote earlier in her career.)

PG Nation (Dec. 1996)

I swear on a pile of bibles, I do not love profanity. What I love is the right word and when the right word is a four letter word, well then we have a winner.

Recently I worked at a club that rates its shows G, PG, and R. I hate ratings of any kind, even for movies, but I understand that it's a great marketing tool and it puts butts in seats and blah blah blah.

My bitch is with people who want such ratings; those comedy fans who need to be assured that they won't be offended. 'Its our 10th anniversary, and my wife and I don't want to be challenged in any way.' Going to a comedy show because it's rated PG strikes me as missing the point and nearly sinister. If a comic is funny without swearing, that's fine, but I'd never dismiss a great act because he or she can be rated R. The only thing that matters to me is funny.

Obviously, I'm not a typical comedy fan. I am comic myself of course, and my expectations are high. I want an act to rip me open and tear my heart out. I want to leave a show thrashed, gasping and exuberant.

When I discover a comedian who does that to me, I am eternally grateful. I start writing and dreaming. Please God, let me be that good. In fact, the only time profanity is offensive to me is when it's used as a crutch to prop up weak writing skills. Ah, but what do I know? I thought 'Independence Day' sucked and 'Leaving Las Vegas' is my favorite love story.

On the Blink (No specific date late 1996 early 1997)

I stuck a pin in the eye of my Bill Gates voodoo doll, and my Macintosh Powerbook booted up. My luck won't last. I am running out of mutilation ideas, and the wee laptop's hard drive needs a check up. Hang in there little Mac, I am in a flirtationary relationship with an Apple technician and I won't let you down. Here, chew on this AOL diskette.

Ah, show biz. I'm watching tv at a Motel 6 in Spokane, and the chubbo weatherman on Channel 2 says watch out for ice tomorrow morning. Gotcha. In fact, I learned that lesson last Thursday on icy Hwy 20 in Oregon, when I hurtled into the oncoming lane at 65 mph. We're fine, my fellow comic Joe Klosek and I, and we owe it all to a sturdy telephone poll. As a gesture of gratitude, I left part of my front fender and the passenger side mirror on the scene. Have at it, hitchhikers.

Then there's the second hand cell phone. It was a gift from a concerned family member and I signed up with Cellular One immediately. I decided to skip a costly automobile tune up because if anything happens to me on the road, well, I have a cell phone! No so fast, darlings. I forgot the antenna. It's useless. The only thing working with any consistency on this trip is my Black and Decker single cup coffee maker and if that breaks, baby, I quit.

Tomorrow, we go to Helena, Montana. I get to stay in the same hotel that the Unabomber used when he took the bus to the Bay Area for postal purposes. I couldn't be happier.

Ice Ice Baby (Jan, 1997)

When pronounced correctly, Butte is a poorly named city. The toxic tar pit is a tourist attraction, the only local college has the word "tech" in it's name and there's little to do at night besides get drunk. It all sounds like a perfect set up for comedy.

Poor Butte. Last time I was in the vicinity, my truck slid off the road and the tow guy charged me 25 dollars, cash only, for "extra wenching." This time, the feature act walked into the radio station with the passenger side door handle in his hand.

"It snapped off."

Metal fatigue, the radio DJ tells me, and then asks if I bash men. Ahhh, one nighters. The next morning Joe and I hit 1-90 headed for Kalispell, with Butte and a shitty show behind us. We're outta this dump, we preen. Pass the chips! Do you think we should check the oil? Nah, we're ok. Yeah. This is the kind of dumb optimism that is usually inspired by images in the rear view mirror, when one has a rear view mirror.

Cut to a flat tire and a near spin out. The spare takes us back to Butte. Both front tires, the flat and the right, are showing silver threads. "I like to get as much mileage as possible out of them," I tell Tony, the tire guy. Tony looks at me like if I were his woman, he'd be beating me right now. We're off again.

Kalispell. The only lap pool in town is closed for a swim meet. I sob for an hour in the hotel parking lot. Showtime and then it's over. We leave at 7 a.m., drive til we get to Bend, and spin out on ice. We're in a ditch and I fall flat on the ice when I run towards the Triple A man. My body dies a little.

Living Large (Feb, 1997)

Houston is good to me. The comedy community is brilliant and generous, the club's been packed with smart crowds and I've been seeing the sites. Saturday night, a bunch of us sat around shooting it in the Laff Stop bar after the 2nd show. Then we hightailed over to Marfelli's (sp?), a bar with no sign out front where the rich 80's oilmen used to bring their mistresses for wine and kisses. The top floor is stuffed with cushy couches and dark corners and we witnessed several great make outs.

On Tuesday night, most of the 15 of us who showcased for a Letterman audition went to this all night diner called One's A Meal and John McDowell, a Dallas guy who's the funniest comic you never heard of, was rolling. I'm looking left and I'm looking right and I'm surrounded by great funny comics, all of whom deserve to be famous.

Well, most of them. Waitress, more coffee please! On Wednesday night, Comedy Sportz took over the room. Mark Babbitt (the club owner) and I went to Austin to see an ass kicking show (Kathleen Madigan, Mitch Hedburg and Chip the Wonder Boy) at the Cap City Comedy Caffe.

Thursday and Sunday, I got to close. Jake Johanssen headlined the weekend shows and if you don't know who Jake is, you are lost. Twenty five Letterman's, a chunk of Tonight shows and he's doing Conan on Valentine's Day. One of the most prolific writers in stand up.

If you are a Jake addict, you can see him every time he comes to town and be sure the at least half the set will be new to your ears and the rest is so clever that it's worth hearing again.

First publishedhttp://www.kilmartin.com/Website Laurie Kilmartin, Copyright 1996-2001.

"swim meet" Cantu notes:

Swimming is one of Kilmartin's non-comedy passions.

 You have two gangs based in the Mission and they distinguish themselves by wearing red or blue and you can get jumped for inadvertently wearing the wrong color shirt or hat or bandana on the wrong street corner.