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One thing that is frustrating about writing out my comedy memories is that some of these things happened over 20 years ago, and I’m having a really hard time remembering the minutiae. Age—what a scene stealing hag! But, will you, my muse, my dear reader be aghast if I can’t recall what I was wearing or what I ate the time I met Sebastian Bach of Skid Row in the green room of a TV show which I think it was called Never Mind The Buzzcocks? Probably not. It’s more interesting to hear why I was there (I was dating one of the writers, and I probably made him drag me along) and to see a photo of young me posing ecstatically beside a wild eyed Bash.
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I wish I could recall every stinking detail of this stuff, and that is why I deplore all comedians to please, PLEASE keep thorough journals, if for no other reason than
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