My only other advice is to make sure you're less funny than me, even if people tell you it's not possible.
Your Exhausted Co-Workers
I invited my co-workers to an open mic once. Four of them, to be precise. Dan O'Brien, Soren Bowie, Kristi Harrison, and Robert Brockway. Well, I invited all of them, I'm no asshole (citation needed). That just happened to be the configuration that was available to accompany me at the time. I knew it was a risky proposition in that this open mic determined the order of the lineup by randomly drawing names from a bucket. Every time I'd been there, my name was pulled in a reasonable amount of time, but there are always a lot of names to get through, usually 20 at least. Each of those people gets five minutes on stage. If your name is drawn at or near the end, it can make for an excruciatingly long night.
Naturally, my name was drawn at or near the end. Third to last, to be exact. When we arrived, there were maybe 50 people in the club. By the time I took the stage, the only people left were the people who worked there, two comics, my girlfriend, and three of the previously mentioned four co-workers. Brockway left at the approximate point where "Old Time Rock and Roll" would have been played if we were at a Seger concert (meaning he stayed for a long damn time) because his motorcycle gets harder to see as it gets darker out, and what's the point of riding a motorcycle if people can't see it? I understood, while also wondering to myself why he didn't like me anymore.
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Pictured: The list of possible reasons.