Meet Me in the Bathroom and Tell Me All Your Secrets

On a humid night in NYC, all the young, beautiful Brooklyn children who had grown bored with playing indoor bocce or taking pensive fireplace selfies wandered down to a dimly lit basement bar. With a cold drink in every hand and a hot butt in every folding chair, they waited eagerly for their invitation…an invitation to the bathroom.

‘Meet Me in the Bathroom and Tell Me All Your Secrets’, a recurring musical/comedy/whatever-the-fuck-goes variety show, took place on a Friday night at Park Slope’s Union Hall. A band of offbeat comedians served up a mix of sketch comedy, songs, juggling, body contortion, spandexed dancing, erotic (oh so erotic) literature readings, and yes, there were also some jokes in there.

The show was produced by Trish Nelson’s BanterGirl and hosted by the one, the only, the he’s-probably-somewhere-seducing-your-mother-right-now Dave Hill. Dave, resplendent in a red and gold striped smoking jacket, started the night by introducing himself. So what’s there to know about Dave Hill? Basically when he’s not too busy making the kids at Guitar Center cry or picking out tomorrow’s ascot, Dave and his guitar just want to make you giggle and to turn you on.

Dave then threw it to his comedy comrades. First came underground sketch group MURDERFIST, then a set from bespectacled, Rapunzel-haired Oregonian Danny Felts, who at 6’ a million” and under 200 pounds bragged about being “tall enough to reach things…but not strong enough to carry them.” Marcus Monroe juggled and Dad-joked his way right into our hearts (or at least this Dad’s heart), and Greg Barris delivered up some standard brick wall comedy club fare.

Then came an act that truly begged the question “Holy fuck balls am I in an ’80s workout video and is that Jane Motherfucking Fonda??” No, but it was the neon, sequined Adira Amram and the Experience, and they proceeded to FingerBlast the entire audience straight to Pleasureville. (Never been FingerBlasted? Get educated.) They were fun, hilarious and the only act that was not exclusively white and exclusively penised (as far as I know).

The climax of the night, though, was when Dave Hill whipped it out…his book of erotic short stories. Clearly reading all those Danielle Steele novels as a youth (allegedly) didn’t go to waste, because Dave has found his calling. Set to the sensual sounds of looped guitar riffs, the stories were a velvety bubble bath, washing over us like a combination of Penthouse Forum and Mother Goose. Here’s a little…taste:

“T’was the night before Christmas. Santa came.”

Casually intimate, generally amusing and full of healthy doses of vanity, the general atmosphere of the show was what I imagine it’s like in Dave Hill’s bathroom, only with less alcohol.

To attend a future Meet Me in the Bathroom check out Dave Hill’s Internet Explosion: Your #3 source for all things Dave-related. Ok, there are no dates currently listed, but in the meantime you can also look at photos of Dave in repose or email him for a hookup.

Image courtesy of Mindy Tucker