My comedy career has hit rock-bottom.

Oh, I thought that my comedy career had hit rock-bottom before, but I was clearly mistaken. Who knew that during all those other horrible, horrible shows, I was actually hovering somewhere around rock-middle?

My show last night was different.

Last night, whilst telling a number of charming and splendidly amusing jokes to a vast audience of six, I noticed that two of the audience members were not paying attention to my comedy-esque performance. Instead, they were staring intently at a computer screen that one of the men was holding in front of him.

I really should have known better than to ask what they were watching on said screen. I really, really should have known better. Most people would know better. Anyone with a brain larger than a chocolate-covered raisin would know better.

But I had to know what anyone could POSSIBLY be watching at a comedy club that could be more engrossing than the comedy-like experience going on onstage?

I think you and I both know the answer to that.

Porn.

While I, Jill Twiss, was innocently and sweetly telling jokes onstage, a full ONE-THIRD of my audience was watching people have sex. They were watching porn with a Comedy-of-Jill-Twiss soundtrack.

What does one do at that point? I'm pretty sure that Miss Manners never did a column on "What To Do When One-Third Of Your Audience Is Watching Porn While You Tell Jokes." If she did, I think she would say the appropriate action would be to leave the stage crying and then quietly slit your wrists and bleed diligently. Or, at the very least, end your stand-up comedy career immediately.

Yes yes. Rock bottom, for certain.

Or perhaps this is just karmic payback for the fact that I sometimes watch Comedy Central while having sex.