Given as I’ve self-styled exiled myself, hiated, you might say, from performing, I haven’t been thinking that much about comedy. I still think funny thoughts and watch the Daily Show, but I haven’t been itching to see stand up.

Not sure why exactly. I just haven’t felt like heading to a club or bar or open mike. I’ve watched some pros via the television waves, but not devotedly as I have done. Maybe it’s a bit like a groove I rolled off of a bit and haven’t felt like rolling back into it.

Tonight, though, I made an especial point of watching Nick at Nite’s Funniest Moms thang. I had to watch. Two people I like personally and find incredibly funny, and who I had the good fortune of slogging through maximum crapitude open mikes once upon a couple of times ago, were getting into the final path to scripted, not-really real, magical, reality-programming glory.

The talented chicks in question are Jan Davidson and Andrea Henry. Mind the names, because if there’s a comedy god you’ll see them again.

I know I’m not just bitter and angry, because it’s pretty fucking cool to see your friends on the television. And, I caught another cool broad, Deb Campo, who I chatted with and worked with in a show out here once, which was nice.

As I was watching the elimination rounds, though, even realizing it was edited for dramatic bitchiness, I wasn’t that into it. I remembered contests I’ve been in or backroom convos among comedians, and I miss a whole chunk of that action not at all.

I made friends and have had some great conversations with comedians. But the other layer, the one with needy folks and their little notebooks, looking for approval, don’t fucking miss it at all.

Not ready to say goodbye to that chunk of me and my life. Don’t know when I’ll get back in it.