We played this gig at the Bottom Line one time -- I think it was a benefit for something, maybe AIDS research or World Hunger Year? -- and the Squares took the stage. Now, Tom and Bruce customarily did a little back and forth comedy routine a la the Smothers Brothers or Lenny Bruce, generally leaving me out of the picture because they were quick, the fastball wits. I was the female in the middle who’d look left to right, right to left, and look bemused and mildly tolerant of those “bad boys.”
As you can tell, I, too, have my own brand of fastball wit, but as I’m accustomed to putting it on the page, onstage I tended to not get words out quick enough, and I’d fumble. But THIS one time, I was heard. . .
This was after Bruce made some jokes about Michael Jackson, maybe along the lines of, “How can you can tell it’s bedtime at Michael Jackson’s? When the big hand touches the little hand. . .”
So, In the news at the time was a gory tale of a man who killed his girlfriend and cooked some of her body parts to eat. Ugh. So Tom says onstage, between songs, “So, you hear about this guy who ate his girlfriend?”
Not missing a beat, I jumped right in, “Well, Tom, plenty of guys eat their girlfriends” -- referring to a sexual act, you know, a double entendre. Nervous laughter and a few rather sick guffaws met my bold remark. I thought it was pretty good -- stopped the guys in their tracks for about a minute. They were incredulous that I could have said something so quickly. . . and I wonder what would have happened had Bruce said that instead of me.
Anyway, after the show, our record company voiced mild displeasure at my onstage comment. Never had the guys ever been chastised for their shenanigans, but I thought there was a teensy bit of a double standard at play there. . . cute girls just can’t “play blue,” I guess.