Kyle Regan—a masochistic Stranger reader—has vowed to do every single thing recommended by the Stranger Suggests (movies, galleries, bars, concerts) for the month of January. Look for his reports daily on Slog. —Eds.

Another day, another dark basement for comedy. Balagan Theatre is easy to miss (I walked past it twice while scouting it out). A black door on a black wall in the middle of the night—brilliant. The theater itself is underground, but unlike Comedy Underground, it's inviting. The bar area is well-lit and adorned with metal sculptures and quaint knicknacks. Even though they ran out of Fat Tire (*shakes fist*), the staff was friendly. The performance area felt like the set of Fight Club. I dug it.

This was the first show where every single performance was fan-fucking-tastic. Everyone hit fire. The very funny Fay Canale hosted. Comedians included Mike Cummings, Nicole Lucas, and Jessica Strauss, who also produced the night's show. Travis Vogt and Kevin Clarke performed an Abbot and Costello bit on vaginas. The two dancers, Fanny Tragic and Faggedy Randy, fulfilled the burlesque aspect of the show. Tragic may be the hottest variation of my favorite cryomancer, Sub-Zero. My favorite of the night was comedian Andy "Cupcakehead" Wood. And not just because he took it upon himself to say hi to everyone from my lonely corner of the theater. Thanks, dude...

After the show, I went out for a few drinks with the cast. Comedians are nerds. It was like some weird parallel of conversations I've had with my friends. Instead of what powerups to use in Call of Duty, they compared jokes that may or may not be in future sets. Almost every joke they referenced came with a footnote saying who created it. Their dedication to citations put Wikipedia to shame. There was more (arguments over whether Badfinger was the best band of all time), but the details are alcoholically hazy.

My only complaint was the lack of boobs. It was advertised as “let's just say if it were a movie, it would be called There Will Be Boobs.” Really, that movie would be called There Will Be Two Boobs... On the Same Person. The stripteasing ninja was fucking awesome, don't get me wrong, but I expected pasty-wearing can-can dancers. Goblets of tits, Viking-style. Regardless of breast quota, I had a great time, and can add one more hole-in-the-wall theater to my growing resume.