Andria is the Funniest Mom in America

As you may or may not have seen, since Warren had to go to Missouri for the day, RJA offered to watch my monkeys (in addition to his own and Andria’s) so that I might attend the Funniest Mom in America contest with Kristy and the Admiral. Across town, one Chockley was performing similar duties (albeit on a much smaller scale) so that the other Chockley and another mama could attend.

I had actually arranged for a babysitter, but didn’t want to ruin RJA’s visions of having enough fodder from one evening with seven monkeys to tide him over until December 1st when he would be unleashed from the reigns of NaBloPoMo. Besides, my monkeys would happily move into Chez RJA if given the opportunity.

We arrived at 7:00pm, despite being told 7:30pm was opening time, to find RJA relaxing on the sofa. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked.

“I’m not worried about your monkeys,” he said. “It’s GK that could make or break this.”

"Well they've eaten and pooped already, so it shouldn't be too bad as long as you've hidden all the DVDs and remote controls."

Kristy and GK came rushing in the door, fresh from the grocery store with enough food to satisfy twenty monkeys and began dolling it out. Soon most of the monkeys were happily enjoying pizza and a movie, making it look like RJA’s job might indeed be easy.


RJA took this opportunity to have a talk with GK about “the rules.”


With that, Kristy and I were off to Bartlett on a school night.

We met up with the Cashkin clan and arrived at Comedy, TN to find Andria calmly sitting at the bar, chatting with Chip and Shiloh. Apparently being a Nordic Ice Princess really comes in handy when faced with a three minute stint in front of a room of strangers and a TV crew. Although I expected nothing less from her, I was most impressed with her coolness and collectedness.


“How’s it going?” I asked excitedly.

“Fine,” she said.

“How long have you been here?”

“About an hour.”

“What have you been doing?”

“Oh you know, chatting up the producers, on-camera interviews…nothing special.”

The Admiral arrived and it didn’t take an expert to see that he was a mess. Clearly, he had taken on all of the stress of the evening so that Andria could rest easy.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Don’t freak her out!” I barked.


We all got settled in our seats, ordered drinks, and anxiously waited for the show to start. The line-up was announced and we were informed that Andria would be #9 out of 18.

The lights dimmed and a screen came down. A video montage of Jerry Seinfeld, Will Ferrell, and a few other random comics was shown to warm up the audience. Then our emcee came out and made a few really bad jokes before introducing the first mom.

A lanky woman in her forties with dyed red hair styled in chin-length fly-backs walked out of an ivory tower somewhere and took the stage. She regaled us with jokes about being a feminist and a professional quitter who attended AA meetings for camaraderie.

The Admiral exhaled for the first time all day and the rest of us exchanged confidant glances.

Next we had a large and energetic woman in a printed frock come on stage and lead us all in a “Go Toulu Go!” chant for at least a minute and a half. The few jokes she did share with us mostly involved praying to Jesus.

“I don’t know why, but I wasn’t expecting that,” I said to no one in particular.

Third a bubbly gal from Arkansas with a bouffant, a poodle skirt, and a twang grabbed the mic. Despite her confidant stance, she seemed to be off a bit and filled the dead air between jokes with a lilting, “Moving on with that…”

The next mom took the stage in a whirlwind and appeared to be born to entertain, but she held the mic down by her crotch and we didn’t hear a word she said.

Michael, a member of the Cashkin clan, looked at me wide-eyed and Kristy grabbed a toy drumstick that Shiloh had found in her purse and returned to me and pretended to ram it in her eardrum.

The emcee came back on and wisely advised the rest of the contestants to “Eat the mic.”

Keisha, the fifth mom, took the stage and got everyone clapping for her so she could do a little rap. Then she talked about giving her kids skittles instead of fruit and letting them watch all the TV they wanted.

Kristy nervously looked at my notepad to see how close we were to #9. I ordered another drink.

The sixth mom was from Nashville. Her jokes were self-derogatory and involved using duct tape as a girdle.

By now, Andria’s confidence was peaking and she and the Admiral were being very whispery and cute.

The seventh mom had some good lines, but frankly seemed a little nervous and a little crazy.

As number eight took the stage I felt my heart begin to race. Kristy clutched my leg. Andria calmly applied lip gloss and tussled her hair. I searched for signs of nervousness, but saw none. Number eight was nearing the end of her slot, so Andria stood up and took her place against the wall.

Holy shit! This is it! I grabbed my camera.

Andria strutted on stage and opened with a whopper about being pregnant and really hungover. “No, no, I actually don't drink at all. I'm a recovering Mormon,” she explained.

I ran towards the stage to take pictures like the proud mama I was.


“My paying job is booking tours for fledgling rock stars. Which sounds very fancy, but really means that I work full time to bring home a tiny percentage of what they don't spend on gas and strippers.”

Andria was totally owning the stage. It looked like she was actually having fun!

“I work from my house, so I'm both a working mom and a stay-at-home mom, which can be kind of confusing. Once I accidentally booked my daughter on a 6-city tour through west Texas. I guess she said something about 'Wheels On The Bus' and I just went into autopilot." The audience cracked up as though that was the end of the joke, but Andria had more. "She totally rocked, though. People were all (lighters up) 'Twinkle Twinkle, duuuuude!'"

Andria finished her bit to the sound of booming applause and took her seat next to the Admiral. We all congratulated her and basked in her glory.

“You did it!”

“That was amazing!”

“You rule!”

She was still cool as a cucumber and smiled and clapped politely when they called out the next mom. Ruby freaking Wilson!

Honestly, Ruby paled in comparison to Andria.

Next was a woman who worked at the comedy club. A “professional!”

Eh, not so good.

Then Motherwit took the stage!

And almost never left!

Her funniest joke was, “I hate ugly children. Ugly children is nasty. They look like a rotten piece of pineapple.”

She actually got a heckler who she masterfully put down. That only encouraged her to keep going. Eventually the emcee took the stage and ushered her off.

The thirteenth mom had quite an act to follow. Her schtick was mostly about teenage boys and was mildly entertaining. Her three minutes climaxed with a song she sang completely out of key, on purpose. Kristy grabbed the drumstick and motioning to her eardrum, said, “I’ll do you if you do me.”

The Admiral was celebrating Andria’s triumph by stuffing his mouth with chicken tenders and French fries. (Miss M would be so proud.)

I busied myself texting RJA about Andria’s feat. RJA replied that GK was going apeshit. Kristy grabbed my phone and started texting instructions to swaddle. She was antsy and ready to go, but had no car. “GK will be okay,” I reassured her. “RJA can handle this.”

“I know,” she said. “I just hate knowing that GK’s upset.”

“I know,” I empathized. (I was really happy that I didn’t have a crying baby at home.)

Number 14, “Big Mama,” was up next. She seemed to be the African-American version of Vicki Lawrence’s “Thelma Harper” character from one of my least favorite TV shows, “Mama’s Family.”

Chip looked over at me with puppy dog eyes that said, Can we leave yet? Kristy was also chomping at the bit. “You said we weren’t going to hang,” she said.

“This isn’t hanging,” I explained. “This is sizing up the competition.”

After at least six minutes, Big Mama was herded off the stage. Next up was Regina, number 15. She was our first physical comedian. She threw herself on the ground and I swear she actually used the line, “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.”

RJA texted that GK was asleep and all was well. Kristy let out a sigh of relief and stopped hating on me for the time being.

Number 16 actually told jokes that started off with “You white people…” She must have been a semi-professional because she had someone cue music for her as she did a hilarious bit about inconspicuously picking up a $20 bill at a nightclub. (The more I think about this bit, the more I think it has done before. Eddie Murphy maybe?)

Number 17 was the first to tell fat jokes. She said she sure was glad that women didn’t get stretch marks on their faces when pregnant.

I couldn’t agree more.

Finally it was time for the very last mom. Her name was Ashley and she looked very familiar. Possibly like someone I have seen at Mothersville or the playground. She was cute and funny, but fortunately, not quite as cute and funny as Andria.

I sprinted towards the bathrooms to beat the rush, and met up with everyone in the lobby. We were all still glowing from Andria’s performance and I, for one, feel as though she has a damn good shot at making it to the next round. Unfortunately, we won’t know anything until December.

Andria, who was more relaxed than ever, was all smiles.

“So how do you feel?” I asked.

“Good,” she said.

“Even if you don’t win, you can still take satisfaction in knowing that you got up there and totally kicked ass,” I said.

"I owe it all to you," she didn't say.


Then with a twinkle in her eye, she said, “The owner invited me to come back for open-mic night.”

Edited to include the actual wording of Andria's TRADEMARKED and UNSTEALABLE jokes and to denote Michael as a member of rather than leader of the Cashkin clan.

On the way home, I said to Kristy and the Cashkins, “Does anyone else get the feeling that we’re going to be driving to Bartlett on a regular basis?”