I keep my wit on point by turning pressure into a playground. When the room heats up I imagine the crowd as a bunch of rubber ducks—so harmless that I can toss a joke at them and watch them squeak back. I practice lines until they’re muscle memory, then I let the moment feed on that. If the nerves try to bite me, I pause, take a breath, crack a self‑teasing joke, and that reset keeps me calm and my tongue sharp. It’s all about turning the noise into my own kind of music.

Sure thing—crowds are just extra drums in my rhythm section. I keep the beat tight, then spin each shout into a punchline. When the noise climbs, I turn it into my own soundtrack and play along.