Another thought on the "Faggot!" business

If I am ever presented with a homophobe dumb enough to call me "Faggot!," I hope I have the presence of mind to remember this retort: "Close, but no cigar"--I would say this while gesturing to my nether regions.

Get it?

Well, fine. See if I share anything fledgling comic material with you again.

On other fronts, we spent a couple of days at our cottage, which it looks like we won't be selling for a while. The economy that W (as in "What were you thinking?!") has wrought has everyone all afraid to commit--to real estate, that is. Especially real estate that one has to drive a ways to get to, unless one lives up around here already.

Plus, the fact that said cottage is in an area that one realtor charitably described as a "mixed bag" doesn't help. So, we just have a few yokels mixed in with the Volvo wagons and Lexus SUVs--I rather enjoy the old school "seat belts are a Commie plot" townie contingent. They remind me of the folks I grew up with, even if that has a wicked downside (I know how nasty they can get when drunk, so I give them wide berth).

They were there first, true--and we "out-of-towners" are bringing change of an often unwelcome (some might say controlling to the nth degree) variety. But then, I don't drive out there to listen to and smell ATVs roaring through the community while I'm out on our little deck, either. And I'm not much for overflowing dumpsters as a decorative accent.

But these are minor quibbles. So, we're stuck with the cottage for a while. There are worse things, this I know...

Yup, there's more than a little animus between the year-round and the summer populations in the Berkshires. Just as there's more than a little animus between Smith students and the townies (of which I am one) in Northampton.

I am grateful for the culture and the money the school brings to town, certainly. Probably wouldn't be living here without it. However, I will not miss the crowds, the cars, and the death-defying pedestrian antics that accrue to this population in the least. And that includes the alumni. Last week, an alumna of a certain age stopped her car on Elm Street--in the middle of the road, not the side--to get out and talk to a woman who I'm guessing was a classmate back in the day. She acted as though she was on a private lane, perhaps her own driveway--not a public thoroughfare.

She did eventually get back into her car, but not before she invited said woman a ride to the quad--a whopping, oh, two blocks away.

Lazy and privileged--that's almost as good a combination as the homophobia and imprecise speech noted earlier.

Lest I forget, it is Memorial Day, and my sister spent part of the weekend planting flowers (or, more likely, plopping in some plastic ones) on the grandparents' graves in my home town (the location of the former 1559 Pierce Avenue). She probably stopped by to visit mom and dad (who are in a mausoleum, so flowers are verboten), too. Sigh.

Only dad was a veteran, but they're all missed. And not just today.

Am glad the weekend is nigh...

This has been a WEEK, I tell you. Met the second job's deadline (whew!) and was offered a spot in the Laughing Liberally show in Boston next month (details to come). And I fought off a cold (which might have just been a serious sinus reaction to ALL THE DAMN GRASS).

I'm allergic, okay? So while I welcome spring, there are consequences. This time of year, my nasal passages feel as though they're lined with steel wool, and I always know where my next tissue is coming from. Anything less wouldn't be prudent.

On the good news side, I also wrote a very satisfying letter to my elected officials, for apparently of all the burning issues threatening our dear country right now, keeping carpet munchers and fudge packers from marrying each other is #1 on the MUST STOP THEM IMMEDIATELY list for many people. A minority of people, if the polls are right, but what a persuasive bunch of puddin'heads. They've got Congress working on an amendment to the Constitution as we speak, even though you would think they'd have their hands full with immigration "reform," skyrocketing oil and health care costs, the war in Iraq, the threat of war with Iran, and protecting the rights of small-potatoes congressmen from having their offices searched by the FBI (a case of honor among thieves if I ever saw one).

Sigh.

While on the topic of puddin'heads, there was a hate crime in Northampton recently in which vandals scratched "FAG" into the hood of a lesbian couple's car.

Now really--are these people TRYING to look extra STUPID? Bigotry is dumb to begin with, but scratching "FAG" in the hood of a lesbian couple's car is rather like calling an Irishman a "WOP," a Jew a "MICK" and an Italian a "KIKE," if you get my drift. (More of an avalanche--sorry, I was on a roll.)

Such words are insults and hateful, true, but addressed TO THE WRONG MINORITY GROUP? They're just CONFUSING. Or perhaps MORONIC.

So, homophobes, please do me a favor: If you're going to engage in hate speech, try to be a little less D-U-M-B about it, okay? I'll make it easy for you: Girls = dykes; boys = fags. Got it?

Bigotry and imprecise speech--what a knicker-twisting combo!

Oh, and those of you who aren't of the homophobic persuasion (and you are legion, bless you) will love this. The neighbors of the lesbian and her partner who endured the idiotic hate crime? A bunch of them put rainbow flags up on their porches, as a sign of solidarity.

Goddess, I love this town....

Free Spirits? Seemed a bit shackled...

Almost forgot to mention I saw a documentary last night called "Free Spirits." It was the story of a commune in 70s and 80s in the Greenfield area, led by a charismatic narcissist with spiritual tendencies who devolved into a paranoid and grandiose drunk and cokehead.

Loved the shot of him exiting his Rolls Royce across from Wilson's department store, entourage in tow. Now that was worth the price of admission!

Too bad the guy never got to tell his story in a church basement--it would have been entertaining as hell.

Heard in retrospect from people who were around him back in the day as well as from the man himself (who denied having any problem with drugs....yeah, right, buddy), it was sad. He died of cancer in his early 50s, a wreck of a man with little but illusion left.

What a shame.

"Let's do the time warp again!"

That song is in my head, as I contemplate how am I going to meet my next work-in-addition-to-work deadline. It has been a week, yet write I must. Early and often...

Just got word that the publication I'm writing for is doing terribly, so perhaps I will not be laboring for long.

(I've been having this fantasy for a while, now, haven't I? For pity's sake!)

Now, I must collect my thoughts. And not my thoughts about how I would love to make a good enough living to have ONE job....

And not my thoughts about how I am old enough to have a sister who is retiring. Next month!

In a word: Yikes!

Erin Judge presents...

Well, Saturday night was my high water mark for the weekend, if you'll excuse the expression (we're in the midst of monsoon season, so such expressions are much in the news). Last night's show at The Studio was all comics and two audience. Two audience members who were friends of Jennifer Myszkowski--well a friend and the friend's mother, to be precise.

So, it was one of those nights. Not terrible, but decidedly so-so.

A highlight? Emcee Erin Judge had a young comic with long blonde hair pretend to be me (in my drunk straight girl days) after my set. She stood next to Erin glassy-eyed with a scorpion bowl (a very large, potent drink that is typically served with two straws. Hah!).

That was the unnerving part--I have long thought that the old Ann Podolske would just love a scorpion bowl. Or two. With one straw, naturally.

Thank goddess she's not around any more!

So, they're making fun of me at The Studio. That's some kind of pathetic progress, eh?

(No need to answer that.)

A long drive that paid off....

The Comedy in this part of the country entails driving like you wouldn't believe--or maybe you would, as I've already noted that I drove 4,000 miles last year in pursuit of this elusive art form.

And some days, you drive for hours only to have the sort of show that makes you wonder why you couldn't enjoy knitting or scrapbook design, something anonymous and quietly satisfying.

But other days, you drive for hours and have the sort of show that makes you wonder why you don't do Comedy every day of your life. I had such a show last night, and I'm savoring it while I can.

For tonight, I'm off to The Studio in Cambridge, where one can be a hero one night, a zero the next. Last time I was there, I was decidedly on the zero side of the spectrum, and I'm hoping last night's luck will hold tonight.

But I know The Comedy is a fickle creature, so am just hoping I enjoy the drive. I know I will enjoy not driving--Jennifer is, bless her Comedy Buddy heart. I drove to the show alone last night, and if it wasn't for my new XM radio, I would have lost my mind.

Here's hoping.....

Laughing Liberally Lab: Lessons Learned

Well, I don't know if there were any lessons learned last night in NYC, but one gets ones alliteration on, it's hard to stop.

The Lab is, in essence, an open mic with a liberal twist. And as such, the crowd was 90% young comics, 10% middle-aged (and older) friends of Ann Podolske.

It wasn't bad, really--my set went pretty well (but for forgetting a section on gay marriage), but it wasn't an EVENT, you know what I mean?

What did I expect? I dunno--more non-comedians than my close friends from the old days, perhaps?

Not that I wasn't eternally grateful for them--it was wonderful to see them, and they were all very happy to see me. (I'm often surprised by this, being--how shall I put this?--a woman with a past. Someday, perhaps by the 2010s, I'll get over this.)

And you know--if I hadn't made the trip, I would have wondered, "What would have happened if I had gone to the Laughing Liberally Lab?"

As it is, I don't know the answer for what will happen because I did, except this: I saw friends, I made them laugh, and I got to wander around NYC for a while.

Not bad, not bad at all. Now, I must go walk the dogs (who I missed terribly).

Comedy, comedy, and more comedy!!!

Am gearing up to return to the workaday world tomorrow, which is almost a pleasant prospect. Don't worry, this is not a budding workaholic talking--I am feeling tremendously rested, for one thing; for another, the coming week features shows galore. I will be performing Wednesday night at the Laughing Liberally Lab in NYC, Saturday at La Trattoria in Canton, CT and Sunday at The Comedy Studio in Cambridge, MA--my goddess, this is a week for The Comedy!

After this week, however, the pickin's become slim--Saharan, practically. I appear to be in a comedy lull, and am unsure how to get myself in circulation. Must follow up on a lead, as well as hope something comes of my Wednesday gig--a return engagement, at the very least.

We shall see....

Speaking of seeing, my Linda took some wonderful photos of our vacation, and I hope to get them up soon. Although considering what the week holds, soon may be a relative term....

Back from the land of my foremothers and fathers

We arrived safely home from our vacation to Wisconsin--well, semi-vacation, if one is to be exact about it. We were there to see family and friends, true, but we also were there to see what was going on with my Aunt B--she's been losing weight and having trouble breathing for months now, and the doctors were finally going to come up with a diagnosis this week.

As I already mentioned, the three most likely explanations for her condition included the Big C, which is cancer for those of you who have been spared that particular euphemism. So, while we were there to visit, we were also there to worry with them.

Does that constitute a holiday? Perhaps...as it turned out.

The diagnosis? As my Uncle R said the moment they arrived from the doctor, "It isn't cancer." Happy day!

Of course, what she does have isn't a walk in the park, either. It's called unusual interstitial pneumonia, and from what little I can find on the Internet (and make any sense of--it appears to only be discussed in dense medical journals that aren't meant to be deciphered by the likes of me), it can be a wily beast to treat.

But it beats lung cancer, this I know.

Now, I must go to PACE to practice my "Liberal" set for next week that I was supposed to write on holiday....which I didn't....but who cares? My Aunt B has a treatable disease! WOO!