“Yeah, okay, with that in mind, let’s circle back to my name.” I take a few quiet steps. “I don’t know if you remember. But it’s Jamie. That’s my name. And my sister, her name’s Siri.” I take another few steps and blink excessively.

“I mean, are you hearing it, is it ringing any—Jamie and Siri, Jamie and Siri, does it sound, I don’t know, a little like”—I stomp aggressively across the stage—“JAIME AND CERSEI?!”

The crowd erupts in laughter.

“MY SISTER AND I ARE NAMED AFTER JAIME AND CERSEI?!” I pause. “THE INCESTUOUS ASSHOLES FROM GAME OF THRONES? Jaime and Cersei are an incestuous brother-sister duo!”

“Yeah.” I pause, nodding with an over-the-top expression. “They did that. I had to have that revelation as a twelve-year-old girl.” I smile at the crowd. “Our dysfunction was”—I put on a robotic romantic voice—“written in the stars.”

I wander to the other side of the stage. “Don’t even get me started on our middle names. Honest to god, they’re George and Martine.”

People are laughing. The material has all been hitting.

Seven minutes in I’m riding so high, beaming so hard: and then it all goes quiet when a joke about Timothée Chalamet’s house falls flat. My throat jerks shut.

Shit. Bucket. Shit. We debated whether or not he was a well-known-enough reference to keep in, but we ultimately decided it was okay.

I go silent, staring off into the distance with a glazed-over expression.

And slowly, people start to chuckle. The longer I hold it, the more people start to laugh. I accidentally start to smile as my eyes land on Zarar in the front row. This bit is working.

I take a step to the side like we’ve been practicing. Get stuck, step to the side. Talk more.

I lunge-step, lunge-step like a weird monster across the stage before lifting the microphone back to my lips. “So that’s how I walk when I’m pretending to be my sister—she’s got a pretty distinctive gait. It was a great week for my thighs.” A bunch more people burst into laughter. It’s a little rocky, but it hits.

I start up again, veering to some material from my first set about my dad and LA, his Botox and my quest for his attention. And I end with the story about how I met Siri, fourteen years after we last saw each other, by literally running into each other naked in a shower in the middle of nowhere, Colorado. It hits hard. I am fucking glowing.

Then I’m done and I’m saying Goodbye, you’ve been a delightful audience. This is the closest I’ve ever gotten to a perfect set.