How do you even begin to describe "The Dana & Julia Show," playing to sold-out audiences Saturday nights at the ImprovOlympic? Start with a disclaimer: This is not for the bashful, prude or conservative. Proceed directly to the filth.

A two-woman sketch comedy routine, Goodman and Wolov lay it out fast for an audience. After building mood with a brief introductory blast of sample-laden techno (which includes a clip of Julia sardonically repeating "you're about to get your period"), the two launch into a skit that—in virtually one breath—pokes serious fun at lesbians, abortion and breast cancer. Somewhere in the mix, they drop the word "furburger." Amazingly, the first skit is one of the show's tamest.

And while something this raw might seem destined to remain in the backroom of a small comedy club, "The Dana & Julia Show" is quickly breaking through barriers. In February, the two will travel to the prestigious Aspen Comedy Festival for a string of performances as one of the most hyped comedy teams in the weeklong event. And it all goes back to last June, when the two first performed their show at the Chicago Comedy Festival.

"We were supposed to open up for this Comedy Central showcase," says Goodman, recalling their first performance. "But they ended up being so bad that we switched places after the first night. After that, we got calls from everyone and then their mother—and that was before we even opened our show in July."

When she says everyone, she means everyone. Operatives from HBO, Dreamworks, Comedy Central and Showtime all contacted the two, showering them with praise and dangling the potential for a much larger audience, regardless of how many crass words they utter.

"In fact," explains Wolov, "that was a problem—well, not really a problem because I don't really give a shit—but right after we were done, right after, a guy from NBC came up to the stage and was like, 'You guys were great, I loved it. If you have anything clean, I'll put you on TV within a week.' And we were both like, 'fuck that.'"

With the offers rolling in, the two were shell-shocked. "We were like, aaaah, what should we do?" says Wolov. But instead of making a decision on the spot, they chose to work with the lowest key suitor, Los Angeles-based Brillstein and Grey management, producer of recent comic hits such as "Mr. Show."

Anyone who thinks these two are all an act or gimmick would be wrong. Dana and Julia are "The Dana & Julia Show," twenty-four-seven.

"Most of the jokes were pretty much just things we did for our friends," Goodman explains, "but they ended up being pretty funny." The friends or the jokes? They answer in unison: "Both."

You can dig around for a reason behind their insanity, but both have led basically normal lives. Both come from nice Jewish homes—Goodman a Chicago native, Wolov from Tulsa, Oklahoma—and both went to college to study fields totally unrelated to comedy (Goodman: business, Wolov: psychology). After college, however, both aimed their divining rods at comedy, albeit separately. Wolov spent time at the Actor's Workshop in New York City before moving to Chicago to take Second City's improv class. (She was a member of Second City's touring company but gave it up to launch their current enterprise). Goodman honed her skills doing stand-up comedy. Both earned their first real exposure as stars of the long-running Annoyance Theatre production, "An Ode to Judy Blume."

Before they met, they were islands of crassness. "I've always had a dirty mouth," says Wolov. "And so has she." Adds Goodman, "When we found each other, it was like, where have you been my whole life. My friends actually said, after the first time we met, 'You mean there's another one of you? Oh my God!'"

And just how did they meet? "The moment our eyes first met across the room," says Goodman. "Or the first time I saw Julia laughing at a man's hairy butt crack."

The two have essentially worked on the show for the last two years, though they often had to do it on their own, as various city institutions had trouble with their brand of comedy. "We used to perform some of it at the downstairs ImprovOlympic, when we were still taking the Improv's class, but Charna [Halpern, IO's producer] wouldn't let us because we talk like that," says Wolov. "And when I was performing at Second City, they were always on me about my language—which is a reputation I went in with, especially because we'd been at the Annoyance, which is known for being crude."

Both give immense credit to their director (and Annoyance Theatre founder) Mick Napier, who worked with them to bring the show together. "He helped us a lot in terms of running order and transitions between scenes," Goodman explains. Wolov adds, "Poor Mick. We'd always do these scenes for him, and he'd be like, 'OK, I'm thirty-seven years old,' and we'd be like 'OK, so I'm gonna hose down her vagina like this.' Then he'd tell us, 'Don't say vagina here. Say it here.'"

Just how far beyond good taste is "The Dana & Julia Show"?

In one scene, using two characters who return multiple times, they play office girls riding a train, simulated by both Goodman and Wolov bouncing their breasts in synchronicity. (Goodman: "[It hurts] when we're about to get our period.")

In one of the longest scenes, Goodman plays a man ("Dana's always the man," says Wolov, "because she's more dyke-y") who date-rapes Wolov after slipping her a rufie. Staying clothed the whole time, Goodman takes the date-rape mime as far as the pornographic imagination will allow. "That was Dana's idea," explains Wolov, laughing. "And for a long time I was like, 'No way.' But then we just tried it once and it was funny. From there it kept evolving."

But far from just being offensive, the two play off one another beautifully, finishing each other's lines and never falling out of sync. The combination of over-the-top blue humor and intricate staging, combined with an entirely original music soundtrack, make the show not just hilarious, but almost transfixing. They not only demand your attention, they capture it.

Former "Chris Rock Show" and "Late Night with Conan O'Brien" writer Tom Agna agrees. He saw Wolov and Goodman first at the Chicago Comedy Festival and then a few more times before turning his management company on to them. "It's just so funny and very unpretentious. I'd never seen anybody do quite what they're doing," he says. "I mean, a lot of people do the very raw comedy that they do, but I've never seen women do it and then relate it to women—and it's not just a gimmick. There's just something really funny with what they do, going to such an extreme. Every skit starts so provocative because they're using such raw material, but it still ends up very humanizing."

Since July, "The Dana & Julia Show" has steamrolled, packing in audiences every Saturday night. But like any entertainment product, quality is one thing, but without strong marketing, no one ever sees it.

Goodman and Wolov tackled that challenge themselves, putting together press kits, blanketing the city with postcards and even handing out flyers while at their respective waitressing jobs. "I actually carry postcards in my apron," Wolov says. "It seems almost good that we both work in bars, because we meet so many people that way and so many of them have come in to see the show."

It worked. "At this point," explains Goodman, "we've been doing it so long that we've kind of found our market. People who have seen it and loved it told their friends about it, so they come, too." Adds Wolov, "That. And, of course, the lesbians. They love it."

Occasionally, however, there are audience members who don't have a clue what they've gotten themselves into. "The best is when you get a suburban couple," explains Wolov, "who are in town 'just looking for some comedy.' At the Improv, if the downstairs is sold out, they just send people upstairs, so some people have no idea what they're walking into. It must be pretty weird if you don't know what you're going to see."

Some audience members don't take it very well. In fact, one went so far as to send a letter—signed A. Smythe—which read: "You are pieces of shit hanging from a dog's ass. Your faces are vomit." Smythe also expressed the hope that "their lives are as rotten as the two of you." Naturally, a copy of the letter is included in their press kit.

And how about reactions from the other gender? After all, taking the dick-joke theory, reversing it to vagina-jokes, and then making it as crass as possible must elicit different reactions. "The guys seem to love it," says Goodman. "The only time we really see guys squirm is when they're on a first date or something like that."

Even their parents have shown up for the show, Wolov's having recently flown in from Tulsa. "I was nervous when Julia's parents were there," confesses Goodman. "I wasn't," responds Wolov. "I mean, what are they gonna do, ground me?" Then, in her mother's voice, "'Julia, you said vagina one-hundred and twenty times. And you pinched your friend's breasts.'"

It seems inevitable that, as they earn fame and larger audiences, Wolov and Goodman will offend many, many people—especially traditional, Steinem-era feminists who don't share their love for the lighter side of pornography. Wolov and Goodman expect it. "These crazy people need to get a life, because we're actually working for them," says Goodman.

"It's just a joke," adds Wolov. "God, can't anyone take a joke?"

Time, however, is winding down on "The Dana & Julia Show" in Chicago. Almost immediately after performing at the Aspen Comedy Festival, the two plan to relocate to Los Angeles, where they can perform the show at the West Coast ImprovOlympic.

And, in what may prove to be an incredibly shrewd marketing move designed to help them build their own buzz in Aspen, they refused to make a videotape of their performance for potential suitors. "The people who were at the Chicago Comedy Festival," explains Wolov, "weren't like the main people from the networks. But the main people will all be at Aspen. We wanted to make sure that those people actually came to see the show."

Although they both agree that HBO would be the ideal venue for their brand of comedy, both would accept just about anything on television, as long as they don't have to compromise their, umm, ideals.

So are they near the fulfillment of their lifelong goals, becoming professional comediennes or comedic actresses? "Sort of," responds Wolov. "We really just wanted to be obnoxious and get paid for it."

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