There are comedians who tell jokes, and then there are comedians who feel like the funniest friend you’ve ever had — the one who can turn a couples’ colonoscopy into a five-minute bit and somehow leave you feeling better about the world. Vicki Barbolak is firmly, gloriously in the second camp. And on June 7, the self-proclaimed “Trailer Nasty” queen is rolling into Cleveland for a night at Hilarities Fourth Street Theatre that promises plenty of brand-new material.
If the name rings a bell, it should. Barbolak charmed the nation as a fan favorite and top 10 finalist on Season 13 of NBC’s America’s Got Talent in 2018, even earning the ultimate stamp of approval from notoriously stingy critic Simon Cowell, who told her she might be the best comedian the show had ever had. Not bad for a woman who spent two decades selling carpet before she ever stepped on a stage.
Ahead of her Cleveland return, Barbolak phoned CleveRock’s interview hotline to talk about her love affair with the city, that life-changing AGT moment, where her material comes from, and the saga of acquiring a possibly-internationally-smuggled terrier named Goldie.
Some performers treat tour stops like a blur of identical green rooms. Barbolak is not one of them. Ask her about Hilarities and she lights up like the marquee out front.
“I love that whole area,” she says. “It’s so beautiful and it’s such a fabulous stage. Even though it’s a big room, you feel close to the audience. It’s just a great time.”
She’s also quick to credit the people who run the place — the kind of folks who talk a nervous comedian off the ledge before she’s even ordered a coffee.
“They always make you feel welcome. I’m like, ‘Oh, do we have enough tickets sold? Is it good enough?’ They always say, ‘Oh, don’t worry, Vicki. It’s just always perfect here.’ They’re just so nice.”
It’s been a couple of years since her last visit, which means the audience is in for a treat — a fresh batch of jokes that she’s itching to share with her Cleveland fans.
“I think about coming back to Hilarities. I’m excited to have people see the new stuff that’s coming,” she says. “There’s a bunch of new stuff that’ll be fun to do.”
And then there’s Cleveland itself, a city Barbolak insists is one of America’s best-kept secrets.
“I’ve made some really nice friends out there over the few times I’ve been there. I love coming there,” she says. “People don’t know until you’ve been to Cleveland, you just don’t know how great Cleveland is. People that have been there know it, but I love it. I’m staying an extra day.”
A comedian voluntarily extending her stay in your city is the highest possible review. Frame it.
For all her easygoing charm, Barbolak’s path to the spotlight was a long one. She discovered stand-up at 38 after spotting an ad for a comedy class, ground it out through years of open mic nights, and eventually came up under the legendary Mitzi Shore at The Comedy Store. So when that AGT moment finally arrived — the one where the world collectively decided it adored her — it hit like a wave.
“It was incredible, because I’ve heard other people in the arts say that when you have this moment — this moment of all the years before when you just kept thinking you’re beating your head up against the wall, and you know you can do this, but you never get acknowledged to the level that comes at a moment like that,” she says. “When you get that, ‘Oh, we see you. We think you are great. You have value’ — it just was like a tidal wave that just washed all those years of struggle away in one minute. It was so intense.”
The best part? She and her daughters were so convinced it would go the other way that they’d literally rehearsed her getting eliminated.
“My daughters and I, right before I went on, we were practicing what I’d say when Simon buzzed me, because we were positive I was going to get buzzed!” she laughs. “It was just so fantastic, and I’m just so grateful that show was such a lucky thing and it was such a fluke. Every day I’m like, ‘Damn, I kept praying something would happen, that I get to keep doing stand-up — and that did it!'”
So what fuels a Barbolak set? Mostly her own life, with a generous side of whatever ridiculous thing happened to the people around her.
“A lot of stuff is autobiographical — probably about half is stuff that happens to me,” she explains. “Probably a quarter of it is things that happen to my friends and family that I’m like, ‘That’s funny.’ Some people I know just went to a couple’s colonoscopy. They arranged a couple’s colonoscopy. I mean, if I can’t write five minutes on that, I need to quit.”
She won’t be quitting.
The rest of her material taps into something a little more universal — the low hum of anxiety we’re all carrying these days. Barbolak is careful to note she’s not up there to lecture anyone.
“The other thing is just like the state of the world. I’m not political. I think we’re all feeling really anxious right now,” she says. “There’s a lot of anxiety in everybody’s hearts right now, so it’s impossible not to feel that and to look at that when I’m on the stage thinking that I’m trying to calm people down a little bit.”
That instinct to make people feel lighter is, by Barbolak’s own account, the whole point. And she has a useful benchmark for comparison: 20 years in the family carpet business.
“I sold carpet for 20 years with my parents before I started doing this. We had a carpet business and I thought, ‘Man, I’m giving people good deals,’ but I just never felt like — this is not fulfilling to me,” she says. “That feeling of the energy from the laughter, it makes me feel like somebody washed that laughter through me when it comes back to me, and I feel lighter, and I’m just feeling grateful if I can make them feel lighter. It’s probably the best thing about it. People say, ‘Oh, I came in here in a bad mood and I’m just so happy now,’ and I love hearing that. I feel fulfilled. It would be more rewarding than selling carpet — and it is.”
Carpet’s loss, comedy’s gain.
No Barbolak conversation would be complete without a story that sounds too absurd to be true and is, somehow, entirely true. Enter Goldie, her terrier mix and the apparent beneficiary of one of the loosest border crossings in recorded history.
“Goldie is a little terrier mix and he is about four years old, and we just got him about 10 months ago from Mexico from a super janky adoption agency that was probably not even legal, because he didn’t even have a rabies shot,” she says. “The vet’s like, ‘How’d he get across the border?’ I don’t know!”
The drama, it turns out, was a direct result of how hard it is to adopt a dog when your address includes the words “trailer park.”
“It’s not easy to adopt a dog when you live in a trailer park. Literally the fancy shelters won’t give them up. You could adopt twin children easier than a dog,” she says. “We ended up going to this janky service out of Mexico, and then they brought him down to Oceanside by San Diego where my other trailer is. This lady just gets out of the car and she goes, ‘Give me $300 and sign your name.’ Five dogs jumped out of her car and she’s like, ‘Pick one.'”
If it’s any comfort, Vicki, you’re not alone — your interviewer once rescued a dog from an agency that was later shut down for, of all things, stealing dogs. Apparently the path to a good boy is rarely paved with paperwork.
Whether you’re an AGT superfan, a longtime Trailer Nasty devotee, or just someone who could use a good belly laugh to wash away the week, Barbolak’s June 7 show at Hilarities Fourth Street Theatre is the cure. She’s bringing fresh material, two decades of hard-won comedic instinct, and a genuine affection for Cleveland that practically radiates off the stage.
Bring the friend who came in a bad mood, and let Vicki Barbolak send everybody home feeling a whole lot lighter!
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