Adam Strauss’s one man show opens with a portrayal of him trying to decide between an iPod and an iriver (a South Korean MP3 player I never heard of before). His well-timed, articulate, and frenzied conversation with himself artfully sets the stage for the show’s comedic inspection of his obsessive compulsive disorder.

Because the show is in a theater, not a club, and is not billed as a standup routine, though it certainly has elements of one, it is sometimes difficult for the audience to know how it should react to Strauss’s abuse of the fourth wall. I found this troublesome only in the sense that there were moments when I felt like the audience didn’t give him the interaction he sought or appreciation he deserved, perhaps debating with themselves as to whether it was appropriate to respond.

Strauss has an engaging personality that makes it easy to sympathize, and frequently emphasize, with his story, for, although most of us probably have not spent 11 hours trying to cook up a foul-tasting psychedelic hallucinogen from mail-order cacti, who hasn’t double or triple-checked that they locked a door or berated themselves at times for indecisively failing to act.

For me, rejecting his offer to the audience to try the concoction he said was cactus juice, which he stirred up on stage, was not one of those times, as he gave no indication that there might be chocolate syrup available to add to it.

At the end of the show, Strauss asks that anyone in the audience who, after listening to him, thinks they have OCD, raise their hand six times, eliciting a nice laugh. But, as with trying the cactus juice, no one did. In the lobby afterward, however, I told him I had been tempted to raise my hand twice. I only told him once.