Most people assume that the biggest thing to worry about when living with a comedian is that all your dirty laundry is aired on stage. Not true actually, I've found that I have quite the opposite problem. I've been with the guy almost two full years, and our home life is virtually non-existent on stage. Not that there isn't plenty he could talk about, it's just not the type of comedy he does. Instead, my influence on his comedy shows up in tiny almost non-existent ways. Since that's all I have, I'll tell you what I mean. (And then you can tell me if these type of conversations wouldn't drive a normal person insane)
Trav: So I tried the gas joke last night but it didn't work because I said "eleven dollars a loaf" and I had already used eleven earlier as the price per barrel. I need to think of a different funny number.
Tasha (after actually thinking through about twenty numbers): Hmm. How about seven?
Trav: Seven might work. I wonder if seven would work there. Seven a loaf. It could be funny. I don't know, what do you think, "Seven a loaf", it could work, do you think?
Tasha: That's why I said it pretty much...
Fast forward three days later. I'm in the shower, and this conversation has long left my mind.
Trav: Seven worked.
Tasha: Huh? (Eyes filling with soap)
Trav: The number. Seven. The bread. It worked.
Tasha: (Thinking about seven grain bread) HUH?
Trav: THE JOKE WORKED!
Tasha: Oh. Good Baby (washing the soap out of my eyes and thinking I am SO going to blog about this conversation).
I suspect, and this may be mostly from my experience watching the Cosby Show, but I suspect that there are much more riveting conversations happening in other households.