Idaho is always the butt of the joke… but I-da-ho telling jokes tonight. My name is Krystal Moore, and I’m a local standup comedian… I don’t tell you that so you’ll buy tickets to a show, but I sure hope ya do, I tell ya that because that’s what this story is about. How I got here… in Idaho. Obviously, I did not come here – to Idaho – to be a very successful standup comedian. The truth is, I never left Idaho, and through a series of unfortunate events, I found myself at a Story Story Late Night in Garden City 12 years ago. The theme was crime stories, and I was dressed in a skin-tight purple dress with a plunging sequined neckline, platform purple heels, and two punk rock belts crisscrossed— that I affectionately called my jingle britches. As I walked into the Visual Arts Collective for the first time, the kindly volunteer taking tickets looked me up and down, and said, “You look like you got a crime story, you should put your name in the hat.” 

I clasped my pearls, ma’am, I’m a good girl… and then proceeded to get very drunk and put my name in the hat. Just as I’d half forgotten I’d put my name in the hat, I heard it being called. My heart started pounding, hard, harder than it had ever pounded before – and I had put my heart to the test. I’d never had this feeling before. It was like I was about to drop on a rollercoaster but it just kept going, and I kept telling my story, and the people kept laughing, and still my heart is just pounding – BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM – and I kept telling my story, and the people kept laughing… and I’m like what is this feeling so sudden and new?… I won the story slam that night, and you can still hear that story on their website, but after the show, I had 3 perfect strangers tell me, “You’re so funny, are you a comedian?” To which I replied, “No, that just happened, and it was not funny at the time.” 

I had never been told that before. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I’m funny… When did that happen? I’m not the funny one. I’m the oldest, I’m too sensitive, I’m an artist. I needed some proof. I was shamelessly the first listener to that episode online; I had to know. Am I funny? I couldn’t even let myself want it to be true at the time. It had to be a mistake. I must have blacked out and lost control. I must have channeled the spirit of Lucile Ball… But I’m listening, and goddamnit, I’m making myself laugh. Am I among the bright and shiny “funny”? No! I can’t be. I mean, seriously, who thinks themselves funny? Ass-hats, that’s who. I’m not an ass-hat. I’m an artist. I’ve always been an artist (another bunch of absolute ass-hats, respectfully). 

If you’re thinking I’m a bit dramatic, you’re correct. I won’t deny it, guilty as charged. I was the president of my Drama Club, son. Hell yeah, this redneck girl from Weiser Idaho had Hollywood dreams, but they weren’t dreams of the Hollywood Improv or Comedy Store; they were dreams of winning an Oscar, having a star on the walk of fame, and being the next Whynonna Rider. So it was the early 2000s when I left Weiser. I didn’t get as far as I had hoped. 

I made it to the great big city of Boise, where I got pregnant… and this story isn’t about that, she’s awesome, by the way, 17—time flies—that was just the root that kept me grounded in Idaho and from flying off to LA or NY. When I told that true crime story, I had already had her. I was a housekeeper at a hotel, a single mom, and wasn’t there that night to pursue any dream of entertaining people… that dream had turned into something I might be able to do after she’s grown. I have a very important job to do now, and I was happy to do it even if I had to stay in Idaho. 

I’ve always been an optimist, tho, and with this newfound proof that I had acquired this super power called “funny,” I could do something with that, nothing big, but I did like the feeling of making people laugh… and people need to laugh everywhere. So I went to my first open mic… ya’ll, I killed. Which is not the way you want to start because it doesn’t emotionally prepare you for the next time when you bomb… and my next time was in NY. I hadn’t gone there for comedy, just a vacation, but why not give it a shot? No one can say I’m not brave. So I find a random open mic in NY that fits the vacation schedule, and I stand infront of a packed room of entirely comics – well-lit – and I bomb. I bomb so hard. I’m actually dying in front of these people, and nobody cares. Like I am having an out-of-body experience collecting the psychic cringe of these 30 souls in the back of a dingy bar in NY at 3pm on a Tuesday. I gave up then and there. I knew it was a fluke. So, back to Idaho I came, feeling like I’m just some dumb redneck from Idaho. What was I thinking? 

I just want to break here and let y’all know that today I file taxes on my comedy earnings, ok? …don’t lose hope. This ain’t a sad story. It’s a story about how you’ll find the best things in life in the most unexpected of places. Shortly after my fatal experience in NY, back in Idaho reconsidering my decision to do Boise’s Funniest Person, I met the love of my life, my sweet honey buns. We both came to the rescue of a random old man who had fallen on the street, and when he asked me, “Oy, do you know this old man?” (in a thick British accent) I immediately conceived, no, but I was vaklempt, so-to-speak – I know! The full story is a cinematic meet-cute that we don’t have time for, but I sure as hell wasn’t expecting to find that here in Idaho. And not just cuz he’s British; he’s a filmmaker and an artist as well, whose constant encouragement of my silliest sides has allowed this clown fish to swim. 

We both had Hollywood dreams and ended up in Idaho. For a long time, I thought I’d failed by staying, and I’m sure he felt like he failed by ending up here, of all places. That was 10 years ago now. Today we’ve lived in the same house in the North End, have 2 beautiful children, and the freedom to make whatever silly thing we want. Comedy shows, Doctor Who fan films, stop motion animation puppets… we are two very silly gooses making some very silly things… in Idaho. 

Idaho is always the butt of the joke. If you saw the Minecraft movie, or any movie in the last 30 years… you know. It can feel like a place too small to do big things, but I would disagree. I might not have meant to put my roots down in Idaho, but I’m sure glad I did now – and not just because the industry has gone to hell in a handbasket, to put it politely – but because life, anywhere, is what you make it… and we have made this a pretty damn good place, present politics aside. Sometimes you wanna be a big Hollywood movie star, but you’re a clown in Idaho… and that is what you make it.