For most people, puberty was a time we would rather not revisit. But for others, the cringeworthy content hiding inside the pages of their dust-collecting diaries provides prime performance material for a comedic tribute to adolescent angst.

"San Francisco is so supportive of independent theatre," says organizer Scott Lifton, adding that the City has become the show's most successful location. Though it began in Los Angeles, the production has spread across the country to include nine locations where audiences can share the shame. "It's part comedy show and part therapy," says Lifton, who originally got involved as a performer.

"The whole experience is really cathartic," says performer Patty Mayall. The forty-eight-year-old Stockton native reads from the diary she created during her teenage years in the 1960s. "I have to be that fourteen-year-old even though the forty-eight-year-old is thinking, 'this is so bad.'"

The first two performers had prepared the audience for the awkward hilarity of Mayall's transition from naïve (and resentful) sobriety to environmentally obsessed hippie. The leading performer read letters she had fervently written to her future (unknown) husband, detailing her sexual indiscretions in hopes that he could possibly forgive her. The following performer reads a monologue he wrote for his old high school literary magazine, in which he comes out to his father. He dedicates his composition to an old girlfriend he credits with temporarily turning him gay.

The soundtrack for the evening played by Live Evil featured heavy metal interpretations of lame '80s music. The leather-clad lead singer and front man was a Mortified performer himself, reliving his wannabe-rock star days on stage.

Audience members were nearly falling over laughing as the mortification continued. "The crowd is a big part of your experience," says Lifton, "it's like a self help group"

The audience laughs with the performer rather than at him or her. "You feel a connection with the crowd," says Mayall, "it's like instant intimacy."

Sitting smack-dab in the middle of the front row, Britt Freier had one of the most intimate seats of all. The self-proclaimed "Number One Fan" has seen the show over twenty times in the past four years, but that does not stop her from coming back for more.

"It's a guaranteed laugh," says Freier, who often recruits her girlfriends to come along. "One time and I was hooked. It's the best ten bucks I spend every month."

San Francisco is one of the only locations that holds monthly shows, which presents the challenge of keeping the material fresh. Producers are constantly reading submissions and interviewing prospective performers in search of a story.

Despite the premise of an encore presentation, for one performer, this performance was unlike any other. This time, twenty-three-year-old Ezra Horne's mother was in the audience. Though he had already come out to her as gay, Horne's teenage struggles with his sexuality were kept private in their Mormon home. For the first time, she heard his story. "I prayed for God to fix me," says Horne, "and he didn't because I'm not broken."

Whether you are on stage or in the audience, Mortified is that long-awaited chance to look back at the painful moments of the past, and laugh. "The teenage experience is a universal one," says Mayall. "It's about connecting with the person you were. It sounds cheesy, but it's healing."