Laura Mannino is an actor, comedian, and writer from New York who now spends her days living in LA. She’s a graduate from NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts where she trained at The Atlantic Acting School. Since 2004 Laura’s been performing her stand-up all over New York. She’s also co-produced a long running stand-up and variety show called Mintyfresh.
In 2009, Mannino packed up shop and moved to LA. In the short time since she’d lived there, she’s written, starred, and produced a comedic short film called Ten Minute Decade. Her stand-up has taken her to levels that include stops at The Hollywood Improv, The Comedy Store, The Ice House, Downtown Comedy Club, in addition to helping put together the Hollywood Comedy Festival at the Jon Lovitz Comedy Club.
Laura also spends her time writing for three different blogs, I Stomach LA, Affirmations For Actors, and Don’t Be An Asshole. In addition she’s also a weekly contributor to the blog, Say Something Funny B*tch!
We asked Laura to tell us an anecdote about her comedy career and this one puts things into perspective indeed:
When I lived in New York I was booked a gig in Connecticut. The booker told me he wasn’t allowed to tell me who I’d be performing for, I need to be to handle heckling, I would have to pay for my own transportation, and I’ll be paid $150 for the gig. Of course I took it. What can go wrong? Youth and desperation do not mix. I spent a Saturday afternoon traveling by train to middle of nowhere Connecticut. My fellow comics and I (all women) were picked up at the train station by a bottle blonde in a Geo Metro, brought to a Marriott and held in the lobby bar until they were ready for us. I guess my red flags were too busy fantasizing about that big $150. After sitting for two hours and eating a dinner that we paid for, the comics were shuffled into a hotel ballroom and greeted by a 100 old men wearing cheap suits and jester hats. Yes, jester hats. We finally learned that our audience is a chapter of the “super secretive” Masonic order, The Royal Order of the Jester. Fortunately, I got the “dessert” spot so the men were too busy asking for decaf to heckle me. Once they saw my black sweater turtleneck, I was useless to them. The men gave most of their attention to the comic that happened to be wearing the tightest, reddest dress. If you Google “Royal Order of the Jester” you can learn all about their “super secret” participation with prostitutes. So the moral of the story: desperate comedians are a great alternative if you have to cut hookers out of this year’s budget.