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For Chad my fame was like Snuffleupagus—it disappeared whenever he was around.

After my stellar appearance as a red-carpet mannequin, I hit another Hollywood dry spell. It was a couple months before I got my next gig, a guest shot on an episode of the sketch comedy show Mad TV.

I had a few funny moments, and afterwards head writer Michael Hitchcock invited me to see him perform with the Groundlings, one of the most influential and famous improv groups of all time, that boasted such alumni as Will Ferrell, Paul Reubens, Cheri Oteri, Lisa Kudrow, Amy Poehler, Will Forte, Kristen Wiig, and Phil Hartman.

I was a big fan of Mike’s subtle yet hilarious performances in A Mighty Wind, Waiting for Guffman, and Best in Show and was excited to watch him work with the Groundlings. I watched the uproarious show and afterwards Michael introduced me to the director, Mindy Sterling. Mindy had played Frau Farbissina in the Austin Powers movies and she and her son were big wrestling fans. She thought my work with the WWE was entertaining and suggested I do a show the next time I was in town.

A few weeks later I made my improv comedy debut with the Groundlings on their Thursday night show “Cookin’ with Gas,” which was no mean feat. The reason was that becoming an actual member of the Groundlings was like becoming a comedic Scientologist. You had to train and take classes for a year before you could perform on the Sunday night show, which was like the minor leagues. Then if you were good enough on the Sunday night show, all thirty of the full-time Groundlings would cast a vote to decide if you had the skills to become a full-fledged member of the team. The true catch was that there could only be thirty Groundlings at a time, so if you were accepted you would have to wait until someone left before you could join. That meant that some people were stuck on the Sunday show forever.

With years of doing improv with Rocky and Austin under my belt, I did a pretty good job during my first Groundlings performance in the Phil Hartman Theatre in Los Angeles.

For my first sketch, Mindy called my partner and I onstage and asked the audience to name a weird occupation. Someone yelled, “Taxidermist!” and then Mindy asked them to name the worst place for two people to go on a first date and someone else yelled, “An outhouse!” It was then our task to make up a scene where two taxidermists had their first date in an outhouse.

I did well enough that Mindy invited me back, and I began appearing with the Groundlings regularly for the next year. I learned some important lessons along the way, including the first rule of improv, which is, “Don’t try to be funny.” Never go for the cheap joke.

The second rule is to always use the mantra of “Yes, and …” This means that if someone said my hair was black, I would come back with, “Yes, and it’s a very blond shade of black that is indicative of my Luxembourgian ancestry.”

I learned that improv is a team sport and you have to feed each other and work together to create the best possible show— much like wrestling. The two were also similar in that sometimes you had a great performance and felt like the most entertaining person on the planet, and other times you would bomb terribly and have to bounce back the next time.

But I hit a lot more than I missed, and after a few months Mindy told me she considered me to be an honorary Groundling.

It was indeed an honor, and working with the Groundlings was an invaluable experience. I learned so much about comic timing, thinking on my toes, and committing to a character, techniques that I still use in everything I do to this day.

By the way, do taxidermists still exist nowadays?

CHAPTER 42

Clams Casino

In the summer of 2006 I did a pilot hosting a show called Ebaum’s World that didn’t get picked up. But as they say, when one door closes another one opens, and after the show had been passed on, the Ebaum producers called me to see if I wanted to appear on a reality show called Celebrity Duets, created by Simon