Some comics make you laugh (yeah, okay), and some comics make you laugh and make you feel something (FUCK YEAH, OKAY). Jen Kirkman is the second: a brilliant, honest, throbbing raw wound of a person. She is difficult and magnetic and lovable. She spreads her whole life open onstage and turns all the vulnerabilities, neuroses, wrecks, weirdnesses, and triumphs of being a woman/a comic/a woman-comic/a person into fucking great entertainment. Sorry that this column reads like an obituary when it's supposed to be about jokes—I just really, really like Jen Kirkman. A lot. In my heart area. She is at Re-bar for one night. You should be there, too. Re-bar, 7 pm, $15, 21+.
I've already written in this column about all of the comics in this show (Ron Funches, Mike Drucker, Ahamefule J. Oluo, et al.) and how great they are, so if you don't go to this show, then you are basically calling me a liar. To my face. Fuck you. El Corazón, 8:30 pm, $7, 21+.