What happens when a bag of Sour Patch Kids meets a sharp comic with hustle in her bones? You get a snappy back-and-forth about flavors, open mics, moving cities, and the warm chaos of real life. Comedian Liv Smith sits down with Big Ben Kennedy to talk candy power rankings, starting standup in Georgia, why hosting is caretaking, and how small choices add up to big health wins.

Meet Liv Smith: From Statesboro to Charleston’s stages

Liv called the snack before the reveal, and yes, she nailed it. “That’s right, Sour Patch Kids.” The energy stays high from there. She is a Charleston comic with roots in the legendary city of Statesboro, Georgia.

Quick Statesboro notes:

  • Famous for: Danny McBride’s hometown
  • Liv’s goal: appear in one of his TV shows or films
  • Age fun: Liv is 29, Danny is late 40s, and she could absolutely play his daughter

The chat spins into TV casting, where 28-year-olds often play high school sophomores. Think of those shows where the “teens” have mortgages and five o’clock shadows. Liv is game to lean into the bit.

How the comedy grind started

Liv didn’t just wake up funny in Charleston. She put miles on the odometer first.

  1. Savannah: She started by in Statesboro for open mics, then moved and spent two years building reps.
  2. Atlanta: Three years of grind, then a rough patch and a move back in with her parents.
  3. Charleston: Great timing. She landed here in May, just as a new club was opening. She had hosted for club owner Josh Bates back when he first headlined in Savannah, found the opening announcement on Instagram, and messaged him, “Any job you have, I’ll do it.” She wanted in on the scene, paid or not.

Along the way, Charleston friends and familiar faces helped connect the dots. There were side stories about the old Sparrow room, a near-start of the show during that gap, and a reminder that, as Liv says with a shrug, things come with time.

First impressions in a new scene can make you sweat. Liv had that moment at Tin Roof when Shauna Jarrett introduced her and joked that she came to “eat y’all’s lunch.” It was funny and flattering. Also, it made her the person to watch that night. Moving scenes can rattle your confidence, but Charleston felt different. She came in hot and kept that momentum.

Sour Patch Kids power rankings

Liv and Ben jump into the important sport of candy ranking. Their call:

    1. Blues: The new top dog, already sour, like berry blue Kool-Aid. Blue raspberry isn’t a real fruit, but it rarely misses.
    1. Reds: The classic hit from the original bag.
  • 3-5. Green, orange, yellow: Good, just outclassed by the first two.

Fun candy lore:

  • The candy was originally martian-shaped. Early versions were known as Mars Men, which explains those little lumpy-headed silhouettes. If you’re a candy history nerd, the History of Sour Patch Kids and Mars Men is a great read.
  • Want a broader snapshot? The Sour Patch Kids overview gives a quick breakdown of what makes them sour, then sweet.

On flavor: blue raspberry might be fake, but it stays undefeated in slushies and candy. Grape, on the other hand, is often just “purple” flavor. It rarely tastes like the fruit. Skittles grape, Welch’s grape, grape gum, grape fruit snacks each live on their own planet. Sometimes cherry and grape lean into cough syrup territory. And yet, we still buy them.

What’s your ranking, blues or reds?

Starting standup during chaos: masks, mics, and odd rules

Liv got serious in February 2020. You can guess what happened next. Georgia’s big cities clashed over shutdowns and reopenings. In Atlanta, people found ways to keep shows alive outdoors and in strange spaces. In Savannah, tape lines marked floors for social distancing. People stood in clusters while bouncers counted heads. It felt like a drill. For folks in service jobs, the rules changed by the week.

A few images from that time:

  • Bars with taped floor grids for distanced groups
  • Masked comics and masked audiences at shows that felt both necessary and odd
  • Security and bartenders clicking into “mission mode” when capacity checks hit, organizing bodies as if it were a tactical sweep

Liv Ubered during that stretch, bounced between gigs, and saw an odd kind of love from riders. People left sparkling water, wipes, snacks, and wild tips. Meanwhile, Ben shared what it was like serving as a paramedic at the same time. No spacing, close quarters in the truck, and none of the praise fanfare. Two different jobs in the same storm.

There are edible stories too. Homemade gravity bongs, cereal raids to calm edible anxiety, South Park playing in the background, and laughing at jokes you might have heard five times before. Some people do better with smoke, some with edibles, and many realize that cutting back helps the scale move in the right direction.

Handy dads, stepdads, and the sweetest stories

The conversation takes a tender turn. Ben lost his dad young, and later found a father in his father-in-law, Bill. He taught Ben how to fix almost anything, then got him to try it himself. He was the kind of man who’d have you change a tire four times so you’d be ready when it mattered.

Ben also shared that he’s published two stories in Chicken Soup for the Soul. One story, “When the Time is Right, You’ll Know,” was reprinted in two Christmas editions. Another, “That Did It,” ran in the All in the Family edition. The man really likes a good collaboration.

Liv lost her dad at 11, and she lights up talking about her stepdad, Marty. He met her mom during the pandemic and walked right into the dad role. He’ll take apart a vanity for 45 minutes to rescue a lost necklace, then grin and say, “Well, that was easy.” Handy people have a calm other folks don’t. They try something, break something, and still have five more solutions in their pocket.

Food, weight loss, and why real ingredients matter

Both Liv and Ben dropped 40 pounds. Liv’s came after moving back home from Atlanta. Less stress, less grind, and better choices add up. Ben noticed the change in her posts over the last year and pointed out how clear it looks on stage too.

There’s a bigger food talk here. Ben visited Ireland and felt real peace for the first time in ages. The grass was neon green, the milk sat on shelves until you opened it, and ingredient lists were short, not a paragraph. Liv has spent time in Italy, Belgium, and South Africa and swears even when you eat a lot there, you don’t feel wrecked. Smaller portions, fuller meals, better ingredients, and less junk.

A few food contrasts they called out:

  • US: more additives, more shelf stabilizers, more engineered cravings
  • Europe: shorter labels, real eggs in pasta, smaller plates that still fill you up

Ben floated a thought experiment. What if we priced food by calories? A penny per calorie puts the real cost in plain view. It’s not a policy, just an idea that makes you think before you order.

Writing, hosting, and crowd care

Comedy talk is where Liv shines. A few sharp lessons stood out.

  • Repeat your good five. New comics sometimes try to do a new five every week. Better to do the same five and tighten it. People like seeing jokes get sharper.
  • Watch a few comics before you. Don’t let your first line be the third version of “Any couples here tonight?” If two people already asked it, you look lost. Ben told a story about doing a bit on Jehovah’s Witnesses and unintentionally kicking off a theme night. Everyone suddenly had a take.
  • Chat outside, but listen enough inside. Friend huddles are where tags are born. People trade notes, plan sets, and nudge each other forward.
  • Hosting is caretaking. Liv loves this line and lives it. The job is to make sure the audience has a good time, set the tone, and let other comics shine. You don’t get to be the fourth comic with a perfectly warmed room. You are the first one through the door. Do the work, then hand the audience to the next comic in better shape than you found them.

Liv hosts the Wednesday open mic at Wits End Comedy Club in North Charleston. A writers group meets before the list opens, so regulars get early sign-up. The room is lively, especially with the neighboring restaurant open midweek. She also runs local shows like Don’t Tell and jumps on weekend lineups when she isn’t hosting.

Her sets blend sharp writing with fearless crowd talk. Some clips get spicy comments, and she welcomes the engagement. It feeds the algorithm and sells tickets.

Where to follow and support

Love candy debates, inside-comedy advice, and real talk about life off stage? You’re in the right place.

Closing bite

Blues beat reds, hosting beats ego, and small choices beat crash fixes. Liv’s story hits a sweet spot, where jokes land, the room lifts, and the life stuff holds the weight and the light. If you’re near Charleston, go see her on a Wednesday, bring a new tag, and be cool at sign-up. If you’re anywhere else, hit follow, watch the clips, and tell us your Sour Patch power ranking. Blues or reds?

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