Laughing at Short Pump

April Fool's Day seemed like a good night to spend the evening being amused.

I can't remember the last time I went to a comedy club, but I don't think the year began with a 2, if that tells you anything.

And it's not like I don't love to laugh, either, because I do; for years, friends have told me that they try to make me laugh.

So when a friend's favorite comedian was coming to town, she practically begged me to go with her to see him.

Which was unnecessary since I knew if she liked him that much, I would, too; we laugh at a lot of the same skewed stuff.

It's one thing to go to a comedy club for comedy and quite another to go for food.

Knowing this, we made our first stop the Belvidere at Broad, keeping it close to home before hitting the highway for the far reaches of suburbia, not a frequent or favorite destination for either of us.

The door was propped open as we arrived, letting in the sounds of rush hour (such as it is in RVA) and the smell of warm springtime air.

The place was already hopping with an after-work get-together and a few early diners.

We planted ourselves at the end of the bar, ordered a couple of glasses of Orvieto and tried to decide what we were hungry for.

Unable to nail it down, we both went the variety plate route, she with the vegetable platter (roasted spaghetti squash over marinara, sauteed spinach, roasted sweet potatoes and crispy potatoes with creme fraiche and chives) and me with the trio of a crab cake, smoked salmon and hummus.

Lots of tastes, so any and all cravings could be satisfied in the Belvidere's usual extremely well-executed way.

There's a reason everybody who works there knows me.

After fortification, we were able to make the drive westward ho to downtown Short Pump.

Honestly, I will never understand living so far out.

Where are the corner bars? The neighborhood markets? The people on bikes? The non-chain restaurants?

Any sense of human connection?

The Funny Bone itself was in the giant mall and already full of people who doubtlessly had had a much shorter drive than us.

We were seated in the back row in the center, but away from the possibility of being part of anyone's act, much to my shy friend's relief.

The first opener was a local, having recently completed a tour of Mechanicsville, who talked about his pregnant girlfriend and his large belly, which kind of says it all.

The second made us laugh with his tale of how people always seek him out for partying. "I don't know why," he claimed, "My idea of partying is standing in a corner drinking myself into a stupor while judging people."

He also referenced his large belly.

And then it was time for the main attraction, Mike Birbiglia, a master storyteller and a charming self-described loser.

At one point, he mentioned growing up in Massachusetts and a woman let out an ungodly shriek.

He challenged her on its pitch and volume and she gave a garbled response.

"I feel like you've been drinking," he shot back, though she continued to make more noise than was necessary.

While the audience had been instructed not to talk during the performance, given her state of being, she may have thought that her sounds didn't qualify as talking.

It's true, the words were barely intelligible English.

You may be impressed (or not) to know that a large group of the Flying Squirrels were also in attendance tonight, so naturally baseball humor ensued, as did stories of puking on the Scrambler, making a 7th grade crush pee in her pants and bladder cancer.

It was indeed a raucous, smart and hilarious performance; my friend was in comedy heaven and I got introduced to a true comedic talent.

And, yes, even a comedian like Birbiglia, one with two CDs and an off-Broadway show, talked about his belly.

It must be a guy thing.

We didn't stick around for Doo Doo Brown's late show, but I'm willing to bet his midsection got a comedic mention, too.

It's been so long since I went to a comedy club that I guess I hadn't known the basics of 21st-century humor.

Apparently, big belly humor is a crowd pleaser. Duly noted.

But doo doo? Seriously?