Walking back to my car in Portland after a freelance writing panel, I could hear the people whooping it up from the sidewalk. I peered through the windowed door to see a coffeehouse with an eclectic crowd applauding a clown.

Well, she was kind of a clown. She was more of a clown before a clown dons on the red nose, curly wig and big shoes. There wasn’t even a billowy polkadotted jumper for this maven. Instead, she was rockin’ some black fishnets and glitter.

I was at Floyd’s Coffeeshop in Old Town at an event called Totes Hilars. The pretty girl at the entrance with the turquoise eyebrows and matching sweater informed me that for an entry fee of $5 to $10, I’d see a great variety show.

I’m really looking to get plugged into the live lit community in Portland, and I figured, why not? After all it seemed like it was a bit like my beloved Story Club Chicago (except its creator, the wonderful Dana Norris, is far from being a spandex-wearing clown-face girl.) It was how the clown-face girl, named Melody Awesomazing, owned the stage with the same wit and humility that made me think of Dana and the awesomeness of Story Club.

Anyway, Melody tells hilarious stories about her old cat who she wishes would extract its claws on life and finally die. After a few chuckles, she introduced a “burlesque” dancer.

Out comes Chip from Chip and Dale. No, not Chip and Dales the male stripper act. But the cartoon chipmunk Chip. (or it could have been Dale, I can never tell them apart.)

Nevertheless, Chip begins to dance. She strips off one oversized white glove, then the other. I get a little scared as the audience gets a little louder each time she discards part of her chipmunk costume. A scan of the crowd reveals many more clowns and a couple of animals. My personal favorite was a giraffe, but I wondered if I had stumbled upon some kind of furry fetish thing and if so, it was time to go.

Curiousity got the best of me and I stuck it out. Chip stripped down to golden pasties and a gold, sequinned G-string with nuts. … And they were strategically placed. (Weeks later I found out Chip was burlesque performer Baby Le Strange.)

Next on stage was a comedienne, Sally Mulligan. She had a slow start, but quickly found her rhythm and made me laugh so hard, folks from the colorful audience turned around to see what weirdo was laughing like that. I don’t think I’ll ever forget her stories on the absurdity of dog park decorum.

Mulligan was followed by Velma from Scooby Doo. (Her real name is Lucia Fasano.) She had a mandolin and sang sharply hilarious, and lyrically whimsical songs. One was about not throwing away your vote on Rand Paul, another professed her love of God while wondering if the Lord loved himself and then she ended her set by spitting rapid rhymes poking fun at vegans.

It was growing late, and I knew I had to get up early, so I decided to exit stage left. But I’m so glad I stumbled upon Totes Hilars. Because it was definitely hilars.