My Comedy Buddy and coworker Jennifer noted the use of "cripes" at work lately. Seems she's not the only one musing about it. The following is from My Little Sister's Humorous Sayings site:
On Cripes:
My wife's from the Midwest. Very nice people there. Very wholesome. They use words like 'Cripes'. 'For Cripe's sake.' Who would that be, Jesus Cripe's? The son of 'Gosh' of the church of 'Holy Moly'? I'm not making fun of it. You think I wanna burn in 'Heck'?
Me neither!
On other fronts, that may be the root of a problem I'm having today. My dear brother's 60th birthday is coming up, and I am having a Heck of a time writing an appropriately snarky birthday card for him. Even though he would definitely have no qualms doing the same for me.
My attempts have ranged from twists on classic song lyrics ("He ain't elderly, he's my brother...") to mild encouragement ("But Eric Clapton and Susan Sarandon are in their 60s, and they're still cool"), but none of it is working.
I've also contemplated a "remember the time you" approach, but we have almost 50 years of history, so that would get out of hand in a nano.
Oh well. The card must get in the mail, so I'm just going to have to run with something, and soon. It ain't easy being mean.....
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Started out well....
Though I usually spare myself any exposure to the Prevaricator in Chief, I couldn't help but see the first few minutes of the State of the Union address.
Couldn't believe that it began with a moment of grace--his acknowledgement of the historic nature of his uttering, "Madame Speaker."
I was stunned. Was this the same GWB I've endured lo these many years? Where's the snarl? The smirk?
They were both disabled. Just temporarily, it turns out, but hey--it was a moment.
Then he proceeded to lecture the Congress on the need for bipartisanship (now that the GOP is no longer in power, it's time to play nice), to stop adding set-asides to bills under the cloak of darkness (now that the GOP is no longer in power, it's time to be above-board), and to generally start doing the opposite of what the GOP has been doing for the past several years.
With the possible exception of supporting the President in everything he does. No matter what.
Anything less is giving aid and comfort to the enemy. Terrorists. 9-11.
(You know, the usual suspects.)
Sigh.
But he did open well, didn't he?
Couldn't believe that it began with a moment of grace--his acknowledgement of the historic nature of his uttering, "Madame Speaker."
I was stunned. Was this the same GWB I've endured lo these many years? Where's the snarl? The smirk?
They were both disabled. Just temporarily, it turns out, but hey--it was a moment.
Then he proceeded to lecture the Congress on the need for bipartisanship (now that the GOP is no longer in power, it's time to play nice), to stop adding set-asides to bills under the cloak of darkness (now that the GOP is no longer in power, it's time to be above-board), and to generally start doing the opposite of what the GOP has been doing for the past several years.
With the possible exception of supporting the President in everything he does. No matter what.
Anything less is giving aid and comfort to the enemy. Terrorists. 9-11.
(You know, the usual suspects.)
Sigh.
But he did open well, didn't he?
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Oh, happy day!
After thinking I had somehow messed up with the man himself when actually I was just using an old e-mail address, Rick Jenkins just gave me a nice round of new dates at his legendary club in Cambridge, The Comedy Studio. Woo-eee!
I've been in what can charitably called a dormant period where the comedy is concerned, so this is a wonderful development. True, I've done a show or two here and there, but not much has been really shakin'. Methinks the no-longer-new job was partially at fault--it's taken quite a while to adjust to this getting-showered-and-dressed-and-driving-to-work business, I'm embarrassed to say.
The ridiculous amount of dental work I've had of late made life less than funny, too.
And while the dental work is ongoing (and I believe will now be a recurrent theme, if I truly face facts), my will to do The Comedy is coming back.
Besides, Linda has been giving me comedy ideas lately. She seems to think I should be writing new material, and has been shopping ideas with me for the past few days (she took the week off, so has had time to think about such things).
Am trying to be charmed by her interest, but not always successfully.
But I do agree I've had enough time to adapt to being a corporate commuting drone. Comedy, watch out!!!!!
I've been in what can charitably called a dormant period where the comedy is concerned, so this is a wonderful development. True, I've done a show or two here and there, but not much has been really shakin'. Methinks the no-longer-new job was partially at fault--it's taken quite a while to adjust to this getting-showered-and-dressed-and-driving-to-work business, I'm embarrassed to say.
The ridiculous amount of dental work I've had of late made life less than funny, too.
And while the dental work is ongoing (and I believe will now be a recurrent theme, if I truly face facts), my will to do The Comedy is coming back.
Besides, Linda has been giving me comedy ideas lately. She seems to think I should be writing new material, and has been shopping ideas with me for the past few days (she took the week off, so has had time to think about such things).
Am trying to be charmed by her interest, but not always successfully.
But I do agree I've had enough time to adapt to being a corporate commuting drone. Comedy, watch out!!!!!
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Gird your loins....
Whenever I hear a comic say something along the lines of, "You know, I have nothing, nothing at all against gay people, but..." I know I'm about to hear gays mocked, mimicked, defiled and generally put through the ringer.
It's as though saying, "I have nothing against [fill-in-the-blank]" offers a comic carte blanche to say anything, anything at all about whatever group is in the blank.
Not that one hears, "You know, I have nothing against black/Jewish/Asian/Mexican/Your Ethnicity Here people, but..." much anymore, at least not up in this supposedly liberal neck of the woods, but the fag card? It's played early and often, mostly by male comics.
Desperate ones in particular.
Like the man I heard use the "I have nothing" defense last night. The fact is, he was African American, and that made it particularly hard to take. If a guy like that doesn't grasp bigotry as a concept, who the heck does?
But perhaps it's only bigotry if it applies to him. In these "What about me?" times, that's probably it. Some days, it seems most of us only have compassion for what we see in the mirror, and then, only if we're lucky.
I'm as guilty of self-centeredness as any human, though I try each day to expand my circle of concern and compassion to include all I meet, at the very least. Not always successfully, this I know.
But you know, the comic last night was struggling, and perhaps his shtick was that of a desperate man. He did a lot of crowd work, which usually signals a comic without much material. And what he did have wasn't working. I can have some compassion for that, for I know that feeling all too well.
Still, last night I did what I haven't done to a comic since I started doing comedy myself. I walked out in the middle of his set, never to return. He was trashing what had been a nice night out for me and my gal, and we have both worked too hard to be who we are to put up with that kind of nonsense.
Kinda makes a gal wish she lived in lesbianland.
Oh, wait a minute--I do! That's what I get for venturing out of town, eh?
It's as though saying, "I have nothing against [fill-in-the-blank]" offers a comic carte blanche to say anything, anything at all about whatever group is in the blank.
Not that one hears, "You know, I have nothing against black/Jewish/Asian/Mexican/Your Ethnicity Here people, but..." much anymore, at least not up in this supposedly liberal neck of the woods, but the fag card? It's played early and often, mostly by male comics.
Desperate ones in particular.
Like the man I heard use the "I have nothing" defense last night. The fact is, he was African American, and that made it particularly hard to take. If a guy like that doesn't grasp bigotry as a concept, who the heck does?
But perhaps it's only bigotry if it applies to him. In these "What about me?" times, that's probably it. Some days, it seems most of us only have compassion for what we see in the mirror, and then, only if we're lucky.
I'm as guilty of self-centeredness as any human, though I try each day to expand my circle of concern and compassion to include all I meet, at the very least. Not always successfully, this I know.
But you know, the comic last night was struggling, and perhaps his shtick was that of a desperate man. He did a lot of crowd work, which usually signals a comic without much material. And what he did have wasn't working. I can have some compassion for that, for I know that feeling all too well.
Still, last night I did what I haven't done to a comic since I started doing comedy myself. I walked out in the middle of his set, never to return. He was trashing what had been a nice night out for me and my gal, and we have both worked too hard to be who we are to put up with that kind of nonsense.
Kinda makes a gal wish she lived in lesbianland.
Oh, wait a minute--I do! That's what I get for venturing out of town, eh?
Sunday, January 07, 2007
It's not a DIET, it's a LIFESTYLE
Yes, I've returned to the hallowed halls of the weight loss kingdom, and no, it wasn't my idea. It was Linda's. However, a recent photo (see above) made me see the wisdom of this quest.
Cripes!
Now I'm not trying to get fit and trim--deprivation is involved in that look for me, and I don't do deprivation (obviously). The thing is, I don't want to get too big for my britches, and that is starting to happen.
In other words: My fitness is not an issue, but as a person who (a) hates to shop and (b) hates to spend money on corporate drag, my burgeoning, increasingly uncomfortable middle is becoming an issue.
A shopping issue.
So, back on the WW wagon I go, fully expecting to lose enough weight to feel less pinched. Here's hoping I meet my goal before the slogans (see above) send me screaming for the door.
True, I belong to another program that clutches tired old cliches to its bosom, but somehow WW is different. Not quite as reality-based. It's not a diet, it's a lifestyle?! I'm not going to WW to change my lifestyle, honey--it's just fine.
To be fair, a person can go years--decades, even--without drinking alcohol, but not without eating. Perhaps a little denial makes sense under this condition. I dunno.
But I do know I don't want to spend any more of my hard-earned moolah on easy-care slacks, so off to WW I go.....
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Happy New Year!
I think it's safe to say the new chaise is a hit. The new camera's not bad, either! (Though the photographer could use some work.)
Monday, December 25, 2006
Merry what-have-you!
Well, this is one of the oddest Christmases on record, if only because it's December 25 and we haven't had a hint of snow. As a result, even though we exchanged gifts and have consumed enough baked goods to sink a tanker, it's beginning to feel a lot like something, but Christmas, it ain't.
Not that I'm bah-humbugging the Season, mind you, it's just been a subdued holiday. I have nothing to complain about on the gift front: Santa and Linda were very good to me this year, and as soon as I figure out the new camera Linda bought me, I'll provide pictures of some of my favorite goodies. The camera is amazing--my former camera was an enormous early-edition digital from the late '90s that used floppies, for pity's sake, so the sleek Coolpix I now have in my possession is a revelation.
Far too cool for the likes of me, but it will just have to cope. Poor little Coolpix, not attached to a sleek Russian tennis player, but a large, middle-aged dykesaurus who won't use 1/36th of your features. Life's like that, eh?
Happily, Linda enjoyed her gifts muchly, especially the little electronic surprise I foisted upon her, an iPod Nano. I thought she had dropped hints the size of boulders regarding this gift and expected a little iPod action this holiday, but she was genuinely surprised. What a hoot!
You have no idea how rare it is for me to pull anything like a surprise off with this woman--she had 90% of her 50th birthday presents figured out weeks before the event, including a hot air balloon ride. The only surprise? I had a chauffeur-driven '50s era Cadillac drive us to and from dinner.
Yes, one must go the extra mile when living with someone who was a private detective in a past life....or simply hyper-vigilant in this one.
The gift that hasn't arrived yet, however, is the most eagerly awaited. An answer to the alarming decline in our dear Linus' ability to walk. His rear legs have become unreliable, and increasingly so. We have an appointment with an alternative vet next week who has worked wonders with dogs in similar binds, and are hoping he'll be able to do the same for our Sonny Boy.
I must take comfort from the fact that our Shwea woke up unable to walk a year or so ago, and is now running around like a lunatic. Just needed to lose some weight and take a better grade of glucosamine, and she was good as new.
We just have to hope that a similar answer awaits for Linus, and we find it soon.
Now, I must go exercise--I have expanded my horizons beyond all reason in the past few months, and as I have no money left for a brand-new wardrobe, I'd better work it, as dear Ru Paul used to say....
It probably doesn't help that Linda and I have been glued to LOGO--the all-gay all-the-time cable station--all weekend. Even though I live in the most lesbian of lesbianvilles, I still can't get enough entertainment with GLBT written all over it. It reminds me of the time we saw the Bill T. Jones and Artie Zane dance troupe at the Academy of Music, and found ourselves blubbering over a romantic duet performed by two women. We had never seen ourselves reflected in dance before, and it was the most moving dance we had ever seen.
Not that I'm bah-humbugging the Season, mind you, it's just been a subdued holiday. I have nothing to complain about on the gift front: Santa and Linda were very good to me this year, and as soon as I figure out the new camera Linda bought me, I'll provide pictures of some of my favorite goodies. The camera is amazing--my former camera was an enormous early-edition digital from the late '90s that used floppies, for pity's sake, so the sleek Coolpix I now have in my possession is a revelation.
Far too cool for the likes of me, but it will just have to cope. Poor little Coolpix, not attached to a sleek Russian tennis player, but a large, middle-aged dykesaurus who won't use 1/36th of your features. Life's like that, eh?
Happily, Linda enjoyed her gifts muchly, especially the little electronic surprise I foisted upon her, an iPod Nano. I thought she had dropped hints the size of boulders regarding this gift and expected a little iPod action this holiday, but she was genuinely surprised. What a hoot!
You have no idea how rare it is for me to pull anything like a surprise off with this woman--she had 90% of her 50th birthday presents figured out weeks before the event, including a hot air balloon ride. The only surprise? I had a chauffeur-driven '50s era Cadillac drive us to and from dinner.
Yes, one must go the extra mile when living with someone who was a private detective in a past life....or simply hyper-vigilant in this one.
The gift that hasn't arrived yet, however, is the most eagerly awaited. An answer to the alarming decline in our dear Linus' ability to walk. His rear legs have become unreliable, and increasingly so. We have an appointment with an alternative vet next week who has worked wonders with dogs in similar binds, and are hoping he'll be able to do the same for our Sonny Boy.
I must take comfort from the fact that our Shwea woke up unable to walk a year or so ago, and is now running around like a lunatic. Just needed to lose some weight and take a better grade of glucosamine, and she was good as new.
We just have to hope that a similar answer awaits for Linus, and we find it soon.
Now, I must go exercise--I have expanded my horizons beyond all reason in the past few months, and as I have no money left for a brand-new wardrobe, I'd better work it, as dear Ru Paul used to say....
Thursday, December 21, 2006
To Sir With Disdain....
Thinking of writing a letter to Mitt Romney. He's supposedly my governor, but recent events suggest he's only the governor of straight people. Straight, homophobic people, that is.
I realize he's running for president, and running for office makes otherwise reasonable people do unreasonable things. This I understand. But it sure doesn't make me happy to hear he's leading rallies to whip the populace up into an anti-gay frenzy.
Well, fooey on him. May he and his campaign enjoy the success they so richly deserve....
Sorry, I had a nice young-sounding lesbian from a GLBT-friendly group call me today to solicit funds for her organization, and even though she was fighting the good fight and all that, she was discouraged. She had been to a number of Mitt's anti-gay rallies, and well, the people just bummed her out (my words, not hers). "They were so mean, and they brought their children," she told me.
Nothing like seeing a small child holding a sign saying, "God Hates Fags" to show one the power of God's love.
But I digress...
I tried to give her a little pep talk about how misguided and fearful these poor souls were, but I realized I wasn't really making a dent in her despair. In her work, she's just up against it all the time, and I'm living in nice, safe and sequestered Northampton, where the homophobes are few and viewed with pity and contempt.
As it should be, of course.
Maybe I did help a little. We somehow got on the topic of Wisconsin, and how it was too bad that the Cheeseheads passed their own "anti-gay" initiative this past election. I told her that I wasn't surprised, but that things were changing--as witnessed by all of the rainbow stickers I saw on cars in my home town of about 11,000. She had been to Wisconsin and had an idea of what that meant.
So, there's hope, or something like it.
Still, my mood is dour, but considering I had the first part of a root canal this morning, I'm not surprised. It was simply dreadful, largely because the tooth was a touchy creature, and regular shots of Novocain were required to keep me from leaping from the chair. It still hurts, but regular handfuls of ibuprofen are helping, and I can only hope that this was the worst phase of the process.
If you know differently, please allow me my denial.
Now I must go walk the dogs. In the dark. Woo!
I realize he's running for president, and running for office makes otherwise reasonable people do unreasonable things. This I understand. But it sure doesn't make me happy to hear he's leading rallies to whip the populace up into an anti-gay frenzy.
Well, fooey on him. May he and his campaign enjoy the success they so richly deserve....
Sorry, I had a nice young-sounding lesbian from a GLBT-friendly group call me today to solicit funds for her organization, and even though she was fighting the good fight and all that, she was discouraged. She had been to a number of Mitt's anti-gay rallies, and well, the people just bummed her out (my words, not hers). "They were so mean, and they brought their children," she told me.
Nothing like seeing a small child holding a sign saying, "God Hates Fags" to show one the power of God's love.
But I digress...
I tried to give her a little pep talk about how misguided and fearful these poor souls were, but I realized I wasn't really making a dent in her despair. In her work, she's just up against it all the time, and I'm living in nice, safe and sequestered Northampton, where the homophobes are few and viewed with pity and contempt.
As it should be, of course.
Maybe I did help a little. We somehow got on the topic of Wisconsin, and how it was too bad that the Cheeseheads passed their own "anti-gay" initiative this past election. I told her that I wasn't surprised, but that things were changing--as witnessed by all of the rainbow stickers I saw on cars in my home town of about 11,000. She had been to Wisconsin and had an idea of what that meant.
So, there's hope, or something like it.
Still, my mood is dour, but considering I had the first part of a root canal this morning, I'm not surprised. It was simply dreadful, largely because the tooth was a touchy creature, and regular shots of Novocain were required to keep me from leaping from the chair. It still hurts, but regular handfuls of ibuprofen are helping, and I can only hope that this was the worst phase of the process.
If you know differently, please allow me my denial.
Now I must go walk the dogs. In the dark. Woo!
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Things could be worse...
I admit I have been feeling a bit at the mercy of the aging process of late, and may even have allowed myself a whine or two. Sorry.
Heard something today that made my petty dental complaints seem, well, petty. A member of my family is facing a hip replacement. This would not be major news if said family member were in my parent's generation, well into their 80s, but unfortunately, said family member is a fellow Baby Boomer. Not even 60 yet. Sheesh!
Can't help but observe: These days, we're going from the "hip" generation to the "hip replacement" generation.
My apologies.
And I also heard that another canine member of the family is having hip trouble--yes, this canine is under the same roof as the family member who is facing hip replacement. The irony? An office visit and x-ray for the human with the hip problem was $15. For the canine with the hip problem? $500.
Our Linus is still struggling with his bum/arthritic leg. We have added vitamin C to his diet, as that's supposed to help. And a low dose aspirin, once a day. FYI, in the off chance it might help, we're looking into doggie acupuncturists--so if you know any in Western Mass, do tell.
On the good news front, I shipped everything that needed to be shipped this weekend, sending parcels to our nation's capital, a small town in Wisconsin, and Detroit. Sleeze, cheese and "Freeze!"
The humor gods are not smiling today, this is obvious. The only merciful thing to do is to stop. Now.
Heard something today that made my petty dental complaints seem, well, petty. A member of my family is facing a hip replacement. This would not be major news if said family member were in my parent's generation, well into their 80s, but unfortunately, said family member is a fellow Baby Boomer. Not even 60 yet. Sheesh!
Can't help but observe: These days, we're going from the "hip" generation to the "hip replacement" generation.
My apologies.
And I also heard that another canine member of the family is having hip trouble--yes, this canine is under the same roof as the family member who is facing hip replacement. The irony? An office visit and x-ray for the human with the hip problem was $15. For the canine with the hip problem? $500.
Our Linus is still struggling with his bum/arthritic leg. We have added vitamin C to his diet, as that's supposed to help. And a low dose aspirin, once a day. FYI, in the off chance it might help, we're looking into doggie acupuncturists--so if you know any in Western Mass, do tell.
On the good news front, I shipped everything that needed to be shipped this weekend, sending parcels to our nation's capital, a small town in Wisconsin, and Detroit. Sleeze, cheese and "Freeze!"
The humor gods are not smiling today, this is obvious. The only merciful thing to do is to stop. Now.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
A reprieve of sorts
I was supposed to have my "good news" root canal today, but my endodontist got food poisoning and cancelled on me. Well, his tech cancelled, and promptly rescheduled my two-appointment procedure for the next two Thursdays.
Was really and truly relieved, until I realized we were invited to a holiday party next Thursday night, and as a result of this development, I may not be fit for said party. I might just be too dentally-impaired to go.
Isn't that a kick in the what-have-you?
Speaking of kicks, today I found out the hard way that I don't have a mute button on my phone. I called into an online training session for work and it was interrupted about halfway through by Oatmeal howling as though he was breathing his feline last.
As if. He's probably going to outlive us all.
But things are looking up on other fronts. Was here to sign for a Christmas gift for Linda, which was a real stroke of luck, since I work from home only one day a week--what are the odds? Plus, I finished shopping--including wrapping and shipping--for my sister in a matter of minutes, all online. (That's no small relief, let me tell you.)
My brother, sister-in-law and furry nephew still have gifts outstanding, but there's still the weekend, so I'm not going to panic.....
Still have to get something worthy for my aunt and uncle, but there's still time.....right?
Well, must go. She who must be obeyed is home, and that means it's dog-walking time. Till next time, my dear friends....
Was really and truly relieved, until I realized we were invited to a holiday party next Thursday night, and as a result of this development, I may not be fit for said party. I might just be too dentally-impaired to go.
Isn't that a kick in the what-have-you?
Speaking of kicks, today I found out the hard way that I don't have a mute button on my phone. I called into an online training session for work and it was interrupted about halfway through by Oatmeal howling as though he was breathing his feline last.
As if. He's probably going to outlive us all.
But things are looking up on other fronts. Was here to sign for a Christmas gift for Linda, which was a real stroke of luck, since I work from home only one day a week--what are the odds? Plus, I finished shopping--including wrapping and shipping--for my sister in a matter of minutes, all online. (That's no small relief, let me tell you.)
My brother, sister-in-law and furry nephew still have gifts outstanding, but there's still the weekend, so I'm not going to panic.....
Still have to get something worthy for my aunt and uncle, but there's still time.....right?
Well, must go. She who must be obeyed is home, and that means it's dog-walking time. Till next time, my dear friends....
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Humbling? You betcha!
| What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Inland North You may think you speak "Standard English straight out of the dictionary" but when you step away from the Great Lakes you get asked annoying questions like "Are you from Wisconsin?" or "Are you from Chicago?" Chances are you call carbonated drinks "pop." | |
| The Midland | |
| North Central | |
| The Northeast | |
| Philadelphia | |
| The West | |
| Boston | |
| The South | |
| What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz | |
How a written quiz could indicate my accent is pure Wisconsin is a bit baffling, as is the fact that it's been over 20 years since I lived in that part of the world, and I still have an identifiable Wisconsin accent.
As my dear departed mother was fond of saying, "T'is a puzzlement."
But perhaps the most perplexing thing about today is that I found myself saying to a coworker, "The good news is I'm having a root canal."
This is what my life has come to: The GOOD NEWS is I need a root canal. (The alternative, in case you're wondering, was to lose yet another tooth and get yet another implant.)
Cripes! From here on it, it feels like it's all carcass maintenance, all the time....
On other fronts, a dear college-era friend sent me an envelope with snapshots from the year of 1978 that she found while cleaning up her archives. Back then, I was 19, going to school in Milwaukee--art school, no less--and good golly, was I ever young. And did I have any fashion sense? None to speak of, really. And I now have visual proof that I was once the proud owner of an eight-track tape player.
It was all quite humbling, in other words. The worst part, though, apart from the fact that most of the snapshots were taken in the campus IHOP, was this: I have no idea who the other people in the photos were. None. I had breakfast with these people--hell, I could have been ROOMMATES with these people, but do they register in my cranium? Nope.
Good grief!
Thursday, November 30, 2006
One bit of advice....
If you are young and still have all of your teeth, allow me to suggest that you FLOSS YOURSELF TO SLEEP EACH NIGHT for the rest of your natural life.
I've brushed and flossed quite a bit in my day, but still I have one tooth MIA and another sending me to a local root canal specialist.
Here we go again!
So please, young'uns, listen to the voice of decrepitude: Take care of your teeth NOW, before it's too, too late, and you're trying to figure out how you're going to pay for your dentist AND sock away enough money so that you can retire sometime before 70.
Otherwise, what's new? I spent part of the day writing a self-evaluation of my work performance. My manager told me to really promote myself, which, considering my background, is rather like asking me to go on out there and date men.
Self-promotion goes against everything I was taught as a child. Doing it feels unnatural, and I hear the voices of my ancestors weighing in with each pathetic attempt.
"Well, just who do you think you are, Miss Smarty-Pants?" That is the kindest comment so far.
But I finished it, and am just hoping it's "promotional" enough to pass muster. Or at least keep me employed for the next few months or so....
Last and least, tomorrow night is the company's winter holiday festival, and I am experiencing some wardrobe anxiety about it all. It's supposedly "semi-formal," which to a lesbian means "Stow the bolo ties."
Well, I've never worn a bolo tie, but really: What does semi-formal mean for the likes of me? I'm sure as heck not wearing a dress--gave that up in 1990, and my legs have gone to hell since then, so it's a no-win proposition no matter how you slice it. I've decided to wear some very nice slacks, a festive vest and turtleneck, and a cashmere coat over it all. Shiny black shoes may be included, may not.
Here's just hoping I don't embarrass myself or my people. My sole comfort is that "lesbian fashion" is one of the world's oldest oxymorons.
I've brushed and flossed quite a bit in my day, but still I have one tooth MIA and another sending me to a local root canal specialist.
Here we go again!
So please, young'uns, listen to the voice of decrepitude: Take care of your teeth NOW, before it's too, too late, and you're trying to figure out how you're going to pay for your dentist AND sock away enough money so that you can retire sometime before 70.
Otherwise, what's new? I spent part of the day writing a self-evaluation of my work performance. My manager told me to really promote myself, which, considering my background, is rather like asking me to go on out there and date men.
Self-promotion goes against everything I was taught as a child. Doing it feels unnatural, and I hear the voices of my ancestors weighing in with each pathetic attempt.
"Well, just who do you think you are, Miss Smarty-Pants?" That is the kindest comment so far.
But I finished it, and am just hoping it's "promotional" enough to pass muster. Or at least keep me employed for the next few months or so....
Last and least, tomorrow night is the company's winter holiday festival, and I am experiencing some wardrobe anxiety about it all. It's supposedly "semi-formal," which to a lesbian means "Stow the bolo ties."
Well, I've never worn a bolo tie, but really: What does semi-formal mean for the likes of me? I'm sure as heck not wearing a dress--gave that up in 1990, and my legs have gone to hell since then, so it's a no-win proposition no matter how you slice it. I've decided to wear some very nice slacks, a festive vest and turtleneck, and a cashmere coat over it all. Shiny black shoes may be included, may not.
Here's just hoping I don't embarrass myself or my people. My sole comfort is that "lesbian fashion" is one of the world's oldest oxymorons.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
My future's so dim, I'm taking off my glasses....
On the third night of my Thanksgiving holiday, I had a dream about work--about WORK! As befits a woman of my region of origin and upbringing, it wasn't subtle about it, either. In the dream, I was meeting with someone at work who I was warned had to approached just so, and it turned out the frighteningly prickly person I was approaching was a Pooh-bah in Corporate Communications.
A waxy 30-something Pooh-bah, but a Pooh-bah nonetheless. In Corporate Communications.
Could there be anything sadder? This dream is particularly galling, for I have been reading books on meditation and spirituality ALL WEEKEND, and they all are big on writing down what one sees in dreams. Our dreams offer signs of our past lives, our future, blah-blah-blah.
Well, apparently, I have a future approaching Pooh-bahs in Corporate Communications. Or were past lives involved in the same tepid endeavor?
Wait a minute--I have a PRESENT approaching Pooh-bahs in Corporate communications.
"The horror. The horror."
The good part of the dream was that before I approached the dreaded Pooh-bah, I did a video with the CEO of the company. In a delicious turn of events, it wasn't the actual CEO of my actual place of business, it was--God love 'im--Martin Sheen.
Yes, I dreamt that Martin Sheen was my CEO. He was almost as sharp as Pres. Bartlett on "The West Wing," but the second time we tried to get him to do the video, he got hung up on a bit of jargon on a marketing piece we were waving around. He didn't understand it, and wasn't going to do any more work on the video until he did.
A great number of people leapt forth to explain the term, but no one could appease his CEO-ness. So, the video came to a halt.
In an interesting turn, the marketing piece at issue was printed on purple paper. This, I think, was partially due to the fact that purple is in great favor with me and some of my work cohorts, and partially due to the Blue Letter that featured so prominently in the film, "Hudsucker Proxy."
Saw that film for the first time this weekend, and it was a disappointment. It was obviously going for greatness, but didn't come close--even with that cast (including Paul Newman!).
Alas, these things happen....
Speaking of things happening, this Thanksgiving certainly qualified as memorable. Linda and I were guests at a friend's celebration, to which she and her gal had invited about 20 people. It seemed to all be coming together, and then the oven broke. Even after the best efforts of five handy lesbians, it refused to heat up again.
Hostess nightmare!
After much tearing of hair and so forth, and several suggestions that bordered on insanity, Linda and I managed to talk said hostess into letting us finish the job. We had the nearest working oven and our car wasn't parked in, so we were dispatched with the giant bird and three trays of root vegetables.
We cooked the turkey and veggies, but for safety's sake, I made a call to the Butterball hotline. The bird had cooked for a while, but had not cooked for a while, too, and my dear brudder had salmonella as the result of a cooked/uncooked chicken, so I was worried. (Who wants to play a part in poisoning people on a holiday? Not I!)
Happily, the "home economist" on the line said the turkey had cooked long enough that it was no longer a threat to humanity. (My words, not hers.)
So, we finished cooking everything, wrapped the bird and veggies up in foil, put them carefully in the back of my car, and drove back to our friend's house. We arrived to cheers and much gladness.
The Dykes Who Saved Thanksgiving, is how I like to think of it (with apologies to the Grinch).
A waxy 30-something Pooh-bah, but a Pooh-bah nonetheless. In Corporate Communications.
Could there be anything sadder? This dream is particularly galling, for I have been reading books on meditation and spirituality ALL WEEKEND, and they all are big on writing down what one sees in dreams. Our dreams offer signs of our past lives, our future, blah-blah-blah.
Well, apparently, I have a future approaching Pooh-bahs in Corporate Communications. Or were past lives involved in the same tepid endeavor?
Wait a minute--I have a PRESENT approaching Pooh-bahs in Corporate communications.
"The horror. The horror."
The good part of the dream was that before I approached the dreaded Pooh-bah, I did a video with the CEO of the company. In a delicious turn of events, it wasn't the actual CEO of my actual place of business, it was--God love 'im--Martin Sheen.
Yes, I dreamt that Martin Sheen was my CEO. He was almost as sharp as Pres. Bartlett on "The West Wing," but the second time we tried to get him to do the video, he got hung up on a bit of jargon on a marketing piece we were waving around. He didn't understand it, and wasn't going to do any more work on the video until he did.
A great number of people leapt forth to explain the term, but no one could appease his CEO-ness. So, the video came to a halt.
In an interesting turn, the marketing piece at issue was printed on purple paper. This, I think, was partially due to the fact that purple is in great favor with me and some of my work cohorts, and partially due to the Blue Letter that featured so prominently in the film, "Hudsucker Proxy."
Saw that film for the first time this weekend, and it was a disappointment. It was obviously going for greatness, but didn't come close--even with that cast (including Paul Newman!).
Alas, these things happen....
Speaking of things happening, this Thanksgiving certainly qualified as memorable. Linda and I were guests at a friend's celebration, to which she and her gal had invited about 20 people. It seemed to all be coming together, and then the oven broke. Even after the best efforts of five handy lesbians, it refused to heat up again.
Hostess nightmare!
After much tearing of hair and so forth, and several suggestions that bordered on insanity, Linda and I managed to talk said hostess into letting us finish the job. We had the nearest working oven and our car wasn't parked in, so we were dispatched with the giant bird and three trays of root vegetables.
We cooked the turkey and veggies, but for safety's sake, I made a call to the Butterball hotline. The bird had cooked for a while, but had not cooked for a while, too, and my dear brudder had salmonella as the result of a cooked/uncooked chicken, so I was worried. (Who wants to play a part in poisoning people on a holiday? Not I!)
Happily, the "home economist" on the line said the turkey had cooked long enough that it was no longer a threat to humanity. (My words, not hers.)
So, we finished cooking everything, wrapped the bird and veggies up in foil, put them carefully in the back of my car, and drove back to our friend's house. We arrived to cheers and much gladness.
The Dykes Who Saved Thanksgiving, is how I like to think of it (with apologies to the Grinch).
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
To each his/her own...
As I mentioned in my last post, Linda and I went to the movies this weekend to see this actor:
My dear former Peace Corps cohort, fellow queer, and lifelong friend Ed, however, went to the movies to see this actor:
We may be Family, but we sure aren't the same....
My dear former Peace Corps cohort, fellow queer, and lifelong friend Ed, however, went to the movies to see this actor: 
We may be Family, but we sure aren't the same....
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Just in case you had any voter's remorse....
The announcement of a new anti-birth control and premarital sex man for the head of a family planning office by Pres. Bush in the wake of the Democratic landslide was a surprise, but then I remembered: That man doesn't learn anything from his mistakes, because HE DOESN'T MAKE THEM.
Right.
Then, I heard the FDA was approving silicone implants for use yet again, even though they are destined to rupture if worn long enough, and can cause problems for women who want to breastfeed their babies and/or have babies that don't have certain complications.
But as this was approved by an Administration that lies on a regular basis, it makes sense that they want women to get in on the action, too. "Of course, these are real."
Right.
Artifice and greed are the prevailing themes of this crowd, not to mention false piety, so they're definitely going out with a bang, not a whimper.
But the times, they are a changin', and I couldn't be happier about it. At CafePress.com, a tremendous array of Democratic-themed t-shirts and what-all are for sale. The first slogan that caught my eye was, "I think, therefore I am a Democrat," but my favorite has got to be the following, "Democrats think the glass is half full; Republicans think the glass is theirs." Ha!
On other fronts, I have been reading a lot about reincarnation lately, and I am surprised at my response. At first I was pleased that despite Peggy Lee's fabulous anthem, there is tremendous scientific evidence that suggests this is not all there is, but then I thought about it, and realized I was rather hoping it was.
Perhaps that is why newborn babies cry so. They're thinking, "Oh no, not this again!"
Lastly, Linda and I saw "The Queen" last night, and were quite taken by it. I had half-expected the Queen was going to get a drubbing in the film, but was surprised that I left the theatre with a new understanding and appreciation for all of her stiff-upper-lip-ness and rigid sensibility.
And Helen Mirren? Perfection! (What else?)
On the absurd side, I wonder this: Did they thicken Helen's calves to look more like HRH's, or does she actually have mega-calves?
Right.
Then, I heard the FDA was approving silicone implants for use yet again, even though they are destined to rupture if worn long enough, and can cause problems for women who want to breastfeed their babies and/or have babies that don't have certain complications.
But as this was approved by an Administration that lies on a regular basis, it makes sense that they want women to get in on the action, too. "Of course, these are real."
Right.
Artifice and greed are the prevailing themes of this crowd, not to mention false piety, so they're definitely going out with a bang, not a whimper.
But the times, they are a changin', and I couldn't be happier about it. At CafePress.com, a tremendous array of Democratic-themed t-shirts and what-all are for sale. The first slogan that caught my eye was, "I think, therefore I am a Democrat," but my favorite has got to be the following, "Democrats think the glass is half full; Republicans think the glass is theirs." Ha!
On other fronts, I have been reading a lot about reincarnation lately, and I am surprised at my response. At first I was pleased that despite Peggy Lee's fabulous anthem, there is tremendous scientific evidence that suggests this is not all there is, but then I thought about it, and realized I was rather hoping it was.
Perhaps that is why newborn babies cry so. They're thinking, "Oh no, not this again!"
Lastly, Linda and I saw "The Queen" last night, and were quite taken by it. I had half-expected the Queen was going to get a drubbing in the film, but was surprised that I left the theatre with a new understanding and appreciation for all of her stiff-upper-lip-ness and rigid sensibility.
And Helen Mirren? Perfection! (What else?)
On the absurd side, I wonder this: Did they thicken Helen's calves to look more like HRH's, or does she actually have mega-calves?
Like I'm in any position to talk, this I know. The older I get, the more the farmer genes take over....
Sunday, November 12, 2006
A good show--and I remembered!
Last night's show in Hartford went well. Not knock-yer-socks-off well, but well enough that I didn't worry about my houseguests or the coworker who brought his girlfriend to the show.
Worry that they'd have to pretend to have a good time, that is. (Codependent Forever More is my credo.)
Was particularly touched by the post-show compliments of an older man (who read very gay, but very closeted). He didn't say anything about the substance of my material but that he enjoyed it. What he did say is that I seemed very relaxed while performing. Relaxed! I felt an adrenaline surge just before I went up on stage, and found myself worrying about speeding through my set, but apparently, that did not manifest to the audience.
Or at least to this dear fellow.
I find it remarkably sweet when people say thank you for a performance, but when they say something that directly addresses a concern, I feel like the Comic Gods are looking after me.
Thanks, Comic Gods!
As for remembering, I actually did remember the sad story of the mother haircut referral and the Democrats giving the GOP a taste of their own medicine bits, and I think they're both good enough to keep for future use. Of course, the political one might be outdated by the next time I see a stage, but it was very cathartic to do, so who cares?
That's enough for one missive. A massive pile of laundry awaits, so off I must go. Here's to The Comedy, the Democrats and life after the GOP: HOOOOOOOORAY!
Worry that they'd have to pretend to have a good time, that is. (Codependent Forever More is my credo.)
Was particularly touched by the post-show compliments of an older man (who read very gay, but very closeted). He didn't say anything about the substance of my material but that he enjoyed it. What he did say is that I seemed very relaxed while performing. Relaxed! I felt an adrenaline surge just before I went up on stage, and found myself worrying about speeding through my set, but apparently, that did not manifest to the audience.
Or at least to this dear fellow.
I find it remarkably sweet when people say thank you for a performance, but when they say something that directly addresses a concern, I feel like the Comic Gods are looking after me.
Thanks, Comic Gods!
As for remembering, I actually did remember the sad story of the mother haircut referral and the Democrats giving the GOP a taste of their own medicine bits, and I think they're both good enough to keep for future use. Of course, the political one might be outdated by the next time I see a stage, but it was very cathartic to do, so who cares?
That's enough for one missive. A massive pile of laundry awaits, so off I must go. Here's to The Comedy, the Democrats and life after the GOP: HOOOOOOOORAY!
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Today's dose of demoralization
Went to a local Open Studios with Linda and two friends who are visiting from out of town this afternoon. We noticed that our favorite bakery had a stand, so picked up a delicious muffin (split four ways--we just had lunch, after all) and coffees.
After I paid the nice young woman behind the counter, she asked me who did my hair. I was pleased, I am ashamed to say, until she added, "Because my mom is looking for someone to cut her hair so she won't look like an old lady."
Yes, I found myself giving a hair salon referral to a nice young woman--for her mother.
Altogether now: Ouch!
Our company is currently napping, bless their hearts, so I have time to obsess over tonight's show (Prospect Cafe in Hartford @ 8:30). Am mulling over giving the dear people of Connecticut heck for voting for Joe Lieberman, but that may not be a good idea. But really: They sent Joe a message during the primary--did they all forget what it was by the general election?
Am also wondering about some new material about a nightmare scenario for Republicans--besides the latest election, of course. What if Democrats gave them a taste of their own medicine?
For example, the Democrats stood by helplessly as the GOP allowed Enron and Exxon-Mobil to write U.S. energy policy. What if the Democrats have Greenpeace write our new environmental policy? Shirley Maclaine put together new faith-in-reincarnation-based initiatives? Willie Nelson in to handle drug policy?
Ah, there is fun to be had, yes indeed. (If, indeed I remember any of it!)
After I paid the nice young woman behind the counter, she asked me who did my hair. I was pleased, I am ashamed to say, until she added, "Because my mom is looking for someone to cut her hair so she won't look like an old lady."
Yes, I found myself giving a hair salon referral to a nice young woman--for her mother.
Altogether now: Ouch!
Our company is currently napping, bless their hearts, so I have time to obsess over tonight's show (Prospect Cafe in Hartford @ 8:30). Am mulling over giving the dear people of Connecticut heck for voting for Joe Lieberman, but that may not be a good idea. But really: They sent Joe a message during the primary--did they all forget what it was by the general election?
Am also wondering about some new material about a nightmare scenario for Republicans--besides the latest election, of course. What if Democrats gave them a taste of their own medicine?
For example, the Democrats stood by helplessly as the GOP allowed Enron and Exxon-Mobil to write U.S. energy policy. What if the Democrats have Greenpeace write our new environmental policy? Shirley Maclaine put together new faith-in-reincarnation-based initiatives? Willie Nelson in to handle drug policy?
Ah, there is fun to be had, yes indeed. (If, indeed I remember any of it!)
Thursday, November 09, 2006
The dream continues....
Forgot to mention the African American Democrat who will be sitting in the Governor's seat in our humble Commonwealth, not to mention the election of the first woman Attorney General (also a Democrat, of course).
Oh, and this just in--the anti-gay Amendment has been shelved for another year. WOOwee!
My goddess, I hope I don't wake up for a very long time....
Oh, and this just in--the anti-gay Amendment has been shelved for another year. WOOwee!
My goddess, I hope I don't wake up for a very long time....
Somebody pinch me....
An Evangelical Kingpin has been brought down by revelations of substance abuse and "mandates" of the very best kind?
Donald Rumsfeld is looking for work?
We have a Democratic majority in the House and the Senate?
...I must be dreaming!
Add to the list that I just brought my Linus home from the vet, and while he's groggy as groggy can be, I think he'll be all right. (He got morphine--for a tooth removal and cleaning. I feel positively cheated!)
Life is very, very good, people. And while I harbor fears that the Democrats will squander their opportunity, I am comforted by the fact that: no one could mess things up worse than the so-n-sos they're replacing.
NO ONE.
Donald Rumsfeld is looking for work?
We have a Democratic majority in the House and the Senate?
...I must be dreaming!
Add to the list that I just brought my Linus home from the vet, and while he's groggy as groggy can be, I think he'll be all right. (He got morphine--for a tooth removal and cleaning. I feel positively cheated!)
Life is very, very good, people. And while I harbor fears that the Democrats will squander their opportunity, I am comforted by the fact that: no one could mess things up worse than the so-n-sos they're replacing.
NO ONE.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Poor pup!
Our Linus had an egg-sized swelling under his eye last week, and Linda and I, being the wreck nervosas we are where he is concerned, brought him to the vet. Well, I brought him to the vet, as Linda was in charge of lawn maintenance this weekend.
The verdict? Poor pup, he has a bad tooth--yes, following in his mother's footsteps--and must have it taken out this week.
This will be the second time he's had to be knocked out and operated on this year, for pity's sake. Our first reaction was to resist putting him through that agony again, but from what the vet told me, even one bad tooth can really wreak havoc on a canine. In fact, she asserted the bacteria in his tooth is more of a threat to him than going through the surgery. And in case she didn't have my attention after that pearl of wisdom, she also said that healthy teeth make the difference between a dog living 10 years and living 14-15 years.
As Linus is already 11 and we both love him like he's our own flesh and blood, what's a girl to do?
Schedule the surgery, that's what. For Thursday, the day I work from home. The good news is that this procedure will only be a day-long affair, and so I'll be able to drop him off in the morning and take him home that night.
It makes me so sad that he has surgery in his future--and that dogs have the "patch, patch, patch" problem as well. Poor Linus!
On other fronts, even though Linda is the lawn diva, I helped with the raking this weekend. I couldn't last week, because I had a tooth out and wasn't supposed to exert myself (yes, my patch-a-thon continues), and I felt bad about it. Particularly as we have ridiculously prolific trees in our yard--and our neighbors' yards, for that matter. Poor Linda!
So, I raked, and right now, my right wrist feels like I strained it. Good grief--one little episode of raking, and there's heck to pay.
Ah, the middle ages. What's not to love, eh?
Lastly, I must confess that I sometimes listen to Gayle King on XM radio, but likely will do so no more. She had served as a nice antidote to the dueling jerks on Young Turks on Air America (there is a third person, a woman, but she seems to only say wildly inappropriate things that have no relevance to the matter at hand--what's a talkshow without a Non Sequitur Girl? A relief!). Anyway, the Turks, young liberals with an attitude (their words, not mine), do occasionally get on my last nerve, so I turn to either disco or Gayle King for blessed relief.
Well, now I'm just turning to disco. Last week, Ms. King said something about the John Kerry botched joke mishap that was straight out of the Neo-Con Playbook for the whole tempest in a teapot, and she just plummeted down in my rankings of people I will listen to gladly. In fact, she's no longer on the list.
Just when I thought she was a nice lady with a smile in her voice and a candid view on life, she ends up sounding like Rush Limbaugh's kid sister.
Alas.
So now, I think of her as a FOO--that's Friend of Oprah, or fou, as the French put it, and right now, I'm leaning toward the latter.
And one last thought on John Kerry: If he didn't exist, the Republicans would make him up.
Or have they?
The verdict? Poor pup, he has a bad tooth--yes, following in his mother's footsteps--and must have it taken out this week.
This will be the second time he's had to be knocked out and operated on this year, for pity's sake. Our first reaction was to resist putting him through that agony again, but from what the vet told me, even one bad tooth can really wreak havoc on a canine. In fact, she asserted the bacteria in his tooth is more of a threat to him than going through the surgery. And in case she didn't have my attention after that pearl of wisdom, she also said that healthy teeth make the difference between a dog living 10 years and living 14-15 years.
As Linus is already 11 and we both love him like he's our own flesh and blood, what's a girl to do?
Schedule the surgery, that's what. For Thursday, the day I work from home. The good news is that this procedure will only be a day-long affair, and so I'll be able to drop him off in the morning and take him home that night.
It makes me so sad that he has surgery in his future--and that dogs have the "patch, patch, patch" problem as well. Poor Linus!
On other fronts, even though Linda is the lawn diva, I helped with the raking this weekend. I couldn't last week, because I had a tooth out and wasn't supposed to exert myself (yes, my patch-a-thon continues), and I felt bad about it. Particularly as we have ridiculously prolific trees in our yard--and our neighbors' yards, for that matter. Poor Linda!
So, I raked, and right now, my right wrist feels like I strained it. Good grief--one little episode of raking, and there's heck to pay.
Ah, the middle ages. What's not to love, eh?
Lastly, I must confess that I sometimes listen to Gayle King on XM radio, but likely will do so no more. She had served as a nice antidote to the dueling jerks on Young Turks on Air America (there is a third person, a woman, but she seems to only say wildly inappropriate things that have no relevance to the matter at hand--what's a talkshow without a Non Sequitur Girl? A relief!). Anyway, the Turks, young liberals with an attitude (their words, not mine), do occasionally get on my last nerve, so I turn to either disco or Gayle King for blessed relief.
Well, now I'm just turning to disco. Last week, Ms. King said something about the John Kerry botched joke mishap that was straight out of the Neo-Con Playbook for the whole tempest in a teapot, and she just plummeted down in my rankings of people I will listen to gladly. In fact, she's no longer on the list.
Just when I thought she was a nice lady with a smile in her voice and a candid view on life, she ends up sounding like Rush Limbaugh's kid sister.
Alas.
So now, I think of her as a FOO--that's Friend of Oprah, or fou, as the French put it, and right now, I'm leaning toward the latter.
And one last thought on John Kerry: If he didn't exist, the Republicans would make him up.
Or have they?
Thursday, November 02, 2006
The fallout from #30....
I'm supposed to be at the open mic at PACE tonight, but I just didn't have enough gumption. Or jokes, for that matter. I'm lacking gumption and jokes, so it seemed a good night to pass--even on the best open mic around (sorry, Jennifer).
It's been nine days since I had tooth #30 out, and I still feel like I'm draggin' my carcass around. Since that fateful day, I've been feeling a little tired, a little spacey, a little cranky--generally, a lotta under the weather. Of course, I had my period for some of this time--this gal can count on Ma Nature arriving at the worst possible moment, and she rarely disappoints. This just added to the joy of my recent journey, but methinks the crux of my carcass-dragging is #30, RIP.
And today, I learned that the estimated total for filling the hole in my head left by #30 is $3,900.
So, not only do I get to be tired, spacey, and cranky, I also get to contemplate spending 1.5 months' worth of take-home to be able to chew on the right side of my mouth. Actually, insurance should cover half of that, but still--that's a lotta cabbage!
This middle-aged business? For the frick'n BOIDs, people.
See, I told you I was cranky.
It doesn't help that there's already murmurs of voting machine fraud (early voting in Texas seems to be oddly skewing towards the GOP--what luck for them, eh?), the Cranks for Christ are revving up the "Love Thy Neighbor But Hate Them Queers" get-out-the vote campaigns all over this benighted country, and our own John Kerry has managed to do his part to inflame anti-Democratic sentiment by getting butch about two years too late.
Will someone please arrange to get that man out of the country six months before the 2008 election? Teresa, honey--please do this service for your country. Take him to a nice island--preferably without any press.....
On the good news front, I have been hearing about a groundswell of support for the proposition that Bill Moyers should be on the Democratic ticket in 2008. I loved him on "Now," but think he's waaaaay too civilized to be a presidential candidate.
Or is he?
This could be interesting.....
It's been nine days since I had tooth #30 out, and I still feel like I'm draggin' my carcass around. Since that fateful day, I've been feeling a little tired, a little spacey, a little cranky--generally, a lotta under the weather. Of course, I had my period for some of this time--this gal can count on Ma Nature arriving at the worst possible moment, and she rarely disappoints. This just added to the joy of my recent journey, but methinks the crux of my carcass-dragging is #30, RIP.
And today, I learned that the estimated total for filling the hole in my head left by #30 is $3,900.
So, not only do I get to be tired, spacey, and cranky, I also get to contemplate spending 1.5 months' worth of take-home to be able to chew on the right side of my mouth. Actually, insurance should cover half of that, but still--that's a lotta cabbage!
This middle-aged business? For the frick'n BOIDs, people.
See, I told you I was cranky.
It doesn't help that there's already murmurs of voting machine fraud (early voting in Texas seems to be oddly skewing towards the GOP--what luck for them, eh?), the Cranks for Christ are revving up the "Love Thy Neighbor But Hate Them Queers" get-out-the vote campaigns all over this benighted country, and our own John Kerry has managed to do his part to inflame anti-Democratic sentiment by getting butch about two years too late.
Will someone please arrange to get that man out of the country six months before the 2008 election? Teresa, honey--please do this service for your country. Take him to a nice island--preferably without any press.....
On the good news front, I have been hearing about a groundswell of support for the proposition that Bill Moyers should be on the Democratic ticket in 2008. I loved him on "Now," but think he's waaaaay too civilized to be a presidential candidate.
Or is he?
This could be interesting.....
Saturday, October 28, 2006
My, I am slipping....
Just completed an online poll on political issues, and it featured some questions on Edward Kennedy's opponent, someone with the last name of Chase, I believe.
I had no idea Ted Kennedy had an opponent. None at all.
I grew up in a home consumed with politics, and am surprised how much I don't know this election cycle.
Has All-American Apathy finally taken hold? Where can a gal get some NASCAR in these parts?!
No, I can still get my blood up thinking about That Man in the White House, so I don't think my political interest is completely gone.
Perhaps I'm just tired. I've been alive long enough to have heard decades' worth of outrages from those greedy bastards who are running things...right into the ground.
How much outrage can one gal muster? Methinks the supply is limited.
Of course, this could all be my (missing) tooth talking. Man, did that procedure ever knock me down a peg. Haven't felt this wobbly for ages, and I'm not enjoying my diminished status in the least.
Tried to take some leaves out of the gutter this afternoon, and got dizzy after only a few sections. What a wuss!
Am trying to enjoy my sloth while I may, but darn this work ethic--I can't!
I had no idea Ted Kennedy had an opponent. None at all.
I grew up in a home consumed with politics, and am surprised how much I don't know this election cycle.
Has All-American Apathy finally taken hold? Where can a gal get some NASCAR in these parts?!
No, I can still get my blood up thinking about That Man in the White House, so I don't think my political interest is completely gone.
Perhaps I'm just tired. I've been alive long enough to have heard decades' worth of outrages from those greedy bastards who are running things...right into the ground.
How much outrage can one gal muster? Methinks the supply is limited.
Of course, this could all be my (missing) tooth talking. Man, did that procedure ever knock me down a peg. Haven't felt this wobbly for ages, and I'm not enjoying my diminished status in the least.
Tried to take some leaves out of the gutter this afternoon, and got dizzy after only a few sections. What a wuss!
Am trying to enjoy my sloth while I may, but darn this work ethic--I can't!
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Pass, purgatory and patch-a-thon
I promised to report on performances here, and have been remiss this week. It should soon be clear as to why....
Thursday night's show, the sold-out "Witches of Prospect" benefit for a breast cancer foundation, went well, particularly in retrospect. There was one problem, and it was a doozie: The mic didn't work for most of my set.
This "problem" was not a "problem" for my comedy buddy Jennifer, she of the couldn't-whisper-if-her-life-depended-on-it school. For me, however, the Midwestern gal with the pipes of a creampuff, it was a challenge. I did my best imitation of a shout for the show, and while I paid for it afterward (my throat hasn't been that scratchy since my smoking days), it worked pretty well. The folks--mostly women, as befits the charity and show theme--had a good time, and much money was raised for an excellent cause.
Altogether now: Hooray!
Friday night's show, the end-of-the-night comedy fest for the arts studio crowd in Dorchester, was far less successful. The venue was an Irish bar that had a cast of regulars who weren't really interested in ceding "their" bar to The Comedy. Plus, the people who came to see the show weren't exactly laughing types--they smiled beautifully, but the laughs just weren't in them, sadly.
I was the second comic up, and while that usually is a tough spot, my overwhelming feeling after performing was "Boy, am I glad that's over!" For as the show went on, not only was the comedy audience not warming up (much), but the regulars became increasingly restless, so I was grateful to be on and off the stage before they got their heckle on in earnest.
Jennifer, as usual, did douse the heckle a bit, and even got the subdued smilers to laugh a little, but it was tough sledding for all. By the time the closer came up, a nice guy who will remain nameless (and you'll soon see why), there was a drunken lout shouting, "You're not funny. Get off the stage and let me try."
Oh dear.
If it were warmer out, ice cream would have been the solution. As it wasn't, fries and a shake from McDonald's did the trick.
Say what you will about junk food, it does wonders for this wounded comic.
But still, a few more shows like that, and I'm going to go back to my writing group. (If they'll have me.) Life's too short and so on and so forth....
Pardon my pessimism. It may have less to do with The Comedy and more to do with the new hole in my head this week. The root canal that went bad required me to get a tooth out Tuesday afternoon, and I haven't felt myself since.
I haven't had a tooth taken out since I had braces (in the early 70s), and as we know that my drinking history pretty much wiped my memory banks clean, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
It was a very disturbing experience. Actually, it was barbaric. As my head jerked and my jaw jiggled, I found myself wondering why we as a civilization haven't found a way to take out a tooth without yanking and pulling and generally putting a person's noggin' through the wringer. Sheesh!
But just as I was about to say, "How's about a general anesthetic--this local business isn't working for me!" out it came.
And I wasn't relieved, just exhausted. (So bad comedy experiences are less awful than bad dentistry experiences--good to know.)
And then the dear dentist asked me how I feel about cows--apparently, the bone graft I needed involved cow bits. As a Wisconsin native, I answered as best I could that I was fine with cows. Though the more I think about it, the more guilty I feel, naturally.
Oh well, so now I have some cow in my jaw. Altogether now: Ewwwwwww!
And now, I must go have some soup. Solid foods are on my "to do" list, just not yet....
Thursday night's show, the sold-out "Witches of Prospect" benefit for a breast cancer foundation, went well, particularly in retrospect. There was one problem, and it was a doozie: The mic didn't work for most of my set.
This "problem" was not a "problem" for my comedy buddy Jennifer, she of the couldn't-whisper-if-her-life-depended-on-it school. For me, however, the Midwestern gal with the pipes of a creampuff, it was a challenge. I did my best imitation of a shout for the show, and while I paid for it afterward (my throat hasn't been that scratchy since my smoking days), it worked pretty well. The folks--mostly women, as befits the charity and show theme--had a good time, and much money was raised for an excellent cause.
Altogether now: Hooray!
Friday night's show, the end-of-the-night comedy fest for the arts studio crowd in Dorchester, was far less successful. The venue was an Irish bar that had a cast of regulars who weren't really interested in ceding "their" bar to The Comedy. Plus, the people who came to see the show weren't exactly laughing types--they smiled beautifully, but the laughs just weren't in them, sadly.
I was the second comic up, and while that usually is a tough spot, my overwhelming feeling after performing was "Boy, am I glad that's over!" For as the show went on, not only was the comedy audience not warming up (much), but the regulars became increasingly restless, so I was grateful to be on and off the stage before they got their heckle on in earnest.
Jennifer, as usual, did douse the heckle a bit, and even got the subdued smilers to laugh a little, but it was tough sledding for all. By the time the closer came up, a nice guy who will remain nameless (and you'll soon see why), there was a drunken lout shouting, "You're not funny. Get off the stage and let me try."
Oh dear.
If it were warmer out, ice cream would have been the solution. As it wasn't, fries and a shake from McDonald's did the trick.
Say what you will about junk food, it does wonders for this wounded comic.
But still, a few more shows like that, and I'm going to go back to my writing group. (If they'll have me.) Life's too short and so on and so forth....
Pardon my pessimism. It may have less to do with The Comedy and more to do with the new hole in my head this week. The root canal that went bad required me to get a tooth out Tuesday afternoon, and I haven't felt myself since.
I haven't had a tooth taken out since I had braces (in the early 70s), and as we know that my drinking history pretty much wiped my memory banks clean, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
It was a very disturbing experience. Actually, it was barbaric. As my head jerked and my jaw jiggled, I found myself wondering why we as a civilization haven't found a way to take out a tooth without yanking and pulling and generally putting a person's noggin' through the wringer. Sheesh!
But just as I was about to say, "How's about a general anesthetic--this local business isn't working for me!" out it came.
And I wasn't relieved, just exhausted. (So bad comedy experiences are less awful than bad dentistry experiences--good to know.)
And then the dear dentist asked me how I feel about cows--apparently, the bone graft I needed involved cow bits. As a Wisconsin native, I answered as best I could that I was fine with cows. Though the more I think about it, the more guilty I feel, naturally.
Oh well, so now I have some cow in my jaw. Altogether now: Ewwwwwww!
And now, I must go have some soup. Solid foods are on my "to do" list, just not yet....
Monday, October 16, 2006
No such luck....
Yup, it was a cold, as my achy-sneezy carcass made plain this a.m. Took to my bed for most of the day, and happily, I feel more humanoid than I did last night.
Which wouldn't be hard, come to think.
The worst is over, so off to work I go tomorrow.
Yippee.
No, really.
On other fronts, I have heard of another venue that I may perform in in 2007, and it's not terribly far away. Since the show I'm in Thursday is sold out, diehard comedy fans might want to check out Cafe Lebanon on Main Street in Springfield. They'll be having a comedy show Thursday night the 19th, hosted by the domestic goddess who is adding her own unique brand of diversity to the suburbs of Connecticut, Linda Belt.
If you go, let me know what it's like--it's always better to have an idea of a place before one shows up there, don't you know.
But then again, flying blind adds a certain je ne sais quoi....or something. Or so I tell myself.
Which wouldn't be hard, come to think.
The worst is over, so off to work I go tomorrow.
Yippee.
No, really.
On other fronts, I have heard of another venue that I may perform in in 2007, and it's not terribly far away. Since the show I'm in Thursday is sold out, diehard comedy fans might want to check out Cafe Lebanon on Main Street in Springfield. They'll be having a comedy show Thursday night the 19th, hosted by the domestic goddess who is adding her own unique brand of diversity to the suburbs of Connecticut, Linda Belt.
If you go, let me know what it's like--it's always better to have an idea of a place before one shows up there, don't you know.
But then again, flying blind adds a certain je ne sais quoi....or something. Or so I tell myself.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Please, let it be allergies...
Have a terrible feeling in my throat, and am oh-so-hoping that it's the result of sweeping a summer's worth of leaves and detrius off our cottage roof. (I was oh-so-pleased that I wasn't doing any raking this weekend, but then I saw our roof and that was the end of that...)
Between the pine needles, moss, maple leaves, and gunk--what else can one call it?--I inhaled a lot of things that don't agree with me yesterday, and am paying the piper now.
Or so I hope.
This could be a cold, but as I have no room in my schedule for such madness, I'm opting for allergies.
Tomorrow morning will be the judge. Please, let the judge be merciful!
On other fronts, I'm in two shows this week with my comedy buddy Jennifer, neither of which you'll likely see. One is sold out, the other is in Dorchester, which I think is in the Boston area but that's about all I know. For now.
Hey, the sold out show may have a repeat performance for all the folks who can't come--including you. Will let you know the date when/if it becomes available.
Now, I must take some echinasea and go to sleep. Here's hoping.....
Between the pine needles, moss, maple leaves, and gunk--what else can one call it?--I inhaled a lot of things that don't agree with me yesterday, and am paying the piper now.
Or so I hope.
This could be a cold, but as I have no room in my schedule for such madness, I'm opting for allergies.
Tomorrow morning will be the judge. Please, let the judge be merciful!
On other fronts, I'm in two shows this week with my comedy buddy Jennifer, neither of which you'll likely see. One is sold out, the other is in Dorchester, which I think is in the Boston area but that's about all I know. For now.
Hey, the sold out show may have a repeat performance for all the folks who can't come--including you. Will let you know the date when/if it becomes available.
Now, I must take some echinasea and go to sleep. Here's hoping.....
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Prevailing at Piccolo's
Well, I had no small anxiety over this weekend's shows (some of which was warranted, it turned out), but it all worked out (something I try to remember, but almost always forget).
It was a mixed couple of nights, to put it mildly. Friday night's audience was largely leaden, and at most mustered a muted moan or two at my material. Okay, that may be an exaggeration, and some people were there to laugh (bless their hearts), but most of the audience was either too tired from the workweek or too full from the restaurant's fabulous Italian fare or too (fill-in-the-blank) to laugh with abandon. Linda and I spent most of Saturday trying to figure out what was going on, and we considered everything from Catholicism to conservatism and beyond, but never came up with a satisfactory cause.
The path to madness, this second-guessing business.
Let's just say I did not leave there feeling fine, mostly because both Linda and I had work peeps in the audience. They were politely complimentary, but I knew in my heart I could have done better--I have done better. I really, really wished they had seen me in one of my better shows.
Like the show that followed on Saturday night. That show was a smashing success, for the audience was there to laugh and carry on without a moment's hesitation. One of the audience members got a little too carried away, and by the time fellow comic Andy Paquette was closing, she felt compelled to grade every joke ("That was funny!" "That was baaaaaad!"). Poor Andy. Well, actually, poor her, for Andy managed her heckles beautifully. (Or should I say mercilessly?)
But the compliments were flowing afterwards, and I felt marvelous heading home. And the fact that I did my full range of anti-homophobe material to an audience that contained a politician of the GOP persuasion made it that much more magnificent.
Yes, life and The Comedy are good.
For now.
It was a mixed couple of nights, to put it mildly. Friday night's audience was largely leaden, and at most mustered a muted moan or two at my material. Okay, that may be an exaggeration, and some people were there to laugh (bless their hearts), but most of the audience was either too tired from the workweek or too full from the restaurant's fabulous Italian fare or too (fill-in-the-blank) to laugh with abandon. Linda and I spent most of Saturday trying to figure out what was going on, and we considered everything from Catholicism to conservatism and beyond, but never came up with a satisfactory cause.
The path to madness, this second-guessing business.
Let's just say I did not leave there feeling fine, mostly because both Linda and I had work peeps in the audience. They were politely complimentary, but I knew in my heart I could have done better--I have done better. I really, really wished they had seen me in one of my better shows.
Like the show that followed on Saturday night. That show was a smashing success, for the audience was there to laugh and carry on without a moment's hesitation. One of the audience members got a little too carried away, and by the time fellow comic Andy Paquette was closing, she felt compelled to grade every joke ("That was funny!" "That was baaaaaad!"). Poor Andy. Well, actually, poor her, for Andy managed her heckles beautifully. (Or should I say mercilessly?)
But the compliments were flowing afterwards, and I felt marvelous heading home. And the fact that I did my full range of anti-homophobe material to an audience that contained a politician of the GOP persuasion made it that much more magnificent.
Yes, life and The Comedy are good.
For now.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Fan mail
This was in today's e-mail, regarding Saturday's "Girls!x3"show:
Thanks for making me and my "I don't really get jokes" girlfriend laugh.
Isn't that a nice thing to tell a comic? Made my day--no, week.
Was feeling a little anxious about this weekend's shows, but this quote will help calm at least some of my fears.
On other fronts, I have a new picture of Linus that will melt your heart like buttah--and one of Oatmeal that will do the same, if you're a cat person.
If you're neither, I don't know what to say, except I'm sorry.
Well, maybe I have to say I'm sorry anyway, for I don't have said pictures in my possession. Yet.
But as soon as I do, prepare to have an "Awwwwwwwww" moment or 50.
Thanks for making me and my "I don't really get jokes" girlfriend laugh.
Isn't that a nice thing to tell a comic? Made my day--no, week.
Was feeling a little anxious about this weekend's shows, but this quote will help calm at least some of my fears.
On other fronts, I have a new picture of Linus that will melt your heart like buttah--and one of Oatmeal that will do the same, if you're a cat person.
If you're neither, I don't know what to say, except I'm sorry.
Well, maybe I have to say I'm sorry anyway, for I don't have said pictures in my possession. Yet.
But as soon as I do, prepare to have an "Awwwwwwwww" moment or 50.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
What was that!
This weekend has been a whirlwind. Between my brother and sister-in-law visiting for the first time This Century (I kid you not), to participating in the latest "Girls, Girls, Girls!" enterprise, to my sister and a former coworker of hers making a brief visit, I'm done in.
The brother and sister-in-law part of the weekend was wonderful--love those people to bits! The "Girls, Girls, Girls!" set went well, if quickly--I thought I had 20 minutes going in, but that's not what I had when I was through. Makes me a little nervous about next week's sets, but I'm sure I'll think of something....
Jennifer did a great job keeping it going, and I loved her new material on working in Corporate America.
Felt like a good set with a crowd that was not a sure thing--the real variable being the women from the Big Company (copyright Jennifer) who were IN THE FRONT ROW, bless their hearts. Either I ignored them or they were "good" (or crashing big time) during my set, but they chattered through other comic's sets, and that's not a good thing, really and truly. Oh well, they'll learn (or I'll learn not to tell them where I'm performing next).
But the good far outweighed the bizarre this weekend, and this is what I'm holding onto.
Now, I must prepare for another week at the Big Company(R).
The brother and sister-in-law part of the weekend was wonderful--love those people to bits! The "Girls, Girls, Girls!" set went well, if quickly--I thought I had 20 minutes going in, but that's not what I had when I was through. Makes me a little nervous about next week's sets, but I'm sure I'll think of something....
Jennifer did a great job keeping it going, and I loved her new material on working in Corporate America.
Felt like a good set with a crowd that was not a sure thing--the real variable being the women from the Big Company (copyright Jennifer) who were IN THE FRONT ROW, bless their hearts. Either I ignored them or they were "good" (or crashing big time) during my set, but they chattered through other comic's sets, and that's not a good thing, really and truly. Oh well, they'll learn (or I'll learn not to tell them where I'm performing next).
And it was dear to see some friends in the audience I didn't expect to see--love that!
But the one fly in the ointment, burr in my saddle, and pain in my patoot was--you may know this already if you know me--my sister's impromptu (and tardy) visit. Am still reeling from the aftershock (her former coworker was a character with a capital "C"--still don't know whether to be charmed or alarmed, is all I can say right now).But the good far outweighed the bizarre this weekend, and this is what I'm holding onto.
Now, I must prepare for another week at the Big Company(R).
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Giving credit where credit is due
I have not properly attributed a suggestion from a young(er) friend of mine, and hereby make amends: The source of the "patch-a-thon" idea below is none other than comedy buddy and coworker Jennifer Myszkowski.
Now, my conscience is clear.
Not much else to report, except it's looking like a lot of coworkers are coming to this weekend's "Girls x 3" show.
Oh glory.....
Now, my conscience is clear.
Not much else to report, except it's looking like a lot of coworkers are coming to this weekend's "Girls x 3" show.
Oh glory.....
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Progress, indeed
This weekend was devoted to cleaning the house from stem to stern, which I just finished doing (except for one load of laundry), even though I started Saturday morning.
I have never set land-speed records, but when it comes to cleaning, I surprise myself at how long I take. Two days. For a ranch?
Of course, I didn't just dust and vacuum and tidy up the porcelain. I also walked and fed the dogs both days, took breaks for meals, and of course, stopped when the sun set--cleaning after sunset is something I've only done when I was moving out of an apartment and had to clean it before I fled. Or if company was coming and there was no way around it.
Well, company is coming (in the form of my brother and sister-in-law), but not until next Friday. Unless there's a hurricane or other major national disaster. My brother is in the disaster business now, and so he can plan, but God regularly takes his plans and pops 'em in the shredder.
But no matter what happens, my house is clean as it gets.
On other fronts, I spoke with a friend today who is dealing with the aftermath of a parent's death. She has a lot to contend with, but I can help with the grief part, for I remember well the fog that enveloped me the year after each parent's death. The fog lifts eventually, but the sadness never leaves. Not entirely. I miss my mother, I do. I still read things that she would enjoy, and am sad that she can't enjoy them. As maddening as she could be, I wish she were still here. Don't want you to think I don't also miss my dad. I am reminded of him every time I have a show in an Elks Club or see someone driving around with a car full of painting supplies with ladders on top.
But he isn't who I called when I saw something funny or maddening or wonderfully put. If he answered the phone, he would immediately hand it off to Mom. But he's not there to hand off the phone, and she's not there to take it from him, and that may be the proper order of things but that just stinks.
If there isn't an afterlife, I'm going to be so P.O.d. Of course, if there isn't, I won't have the ability to be P.O.'d, will I? (Such are the things that can keep me up nights, but nevermind....)
The only good thing about losing my parents is that I can be of comfort to other people who have lost parents.
One thing: This friend said that two months after the death of her parent, some people are suggesting she should be "over" it already. To this, I could only respond, "Tell them to go f*** themselves, and tell them I said so."
Now, I'm not one to drop the f-bomb unless there is no other word that will do, but anyone who would try to shame someone who is grieving deserves a verbal kick in the pants, if not a literal one. True, these people are likely uncomfortable with emotion or mortality or something that reflects the all-too-human resistance to unpleasant realities, but to suggest to someone who has lost a parent they should "snap out of it" in a matter of weeks has something broken inside. Badly broken.
It took me a year after each parent's death to get past feeling as though someone had hit me in the head with a 2 x 4. Two months?
Altogether now: What a Puddin'head.
Lastly, I dreamt of being in chemo last night with a grand group of women who I was apparently friends with, but I don't remember recognizing any of them. We were having quite a time trying on terrible wigs.
I have never set land-speed records, but when it comes to cleaning, I surprise myself at how long I take. Two days. For a ranch?
Of course, I didn't just dust and vacuum and tidy up the porcelain. I also walked and fed the dogs both days, took breaks for meals, and of course, stopped when the sun set--cleaning after sunset is something I've only done when I was moving out of an apartment and had to clean it before I fled. Or if company was coming and there was no way around it.
Well, company is coming (in the form of my brother and sister-in-law), but not until next Friday. Unless there's a hurricane or other major national disaster. My brother is in the disaster business now, and so he can plan, but God regularly takes his plans and pops 'em in the shredder.
But no matter what happens, my house is clean as it gets.
On other fronts, I spoke with a friend today who is dealing with the aftermath of a parent's death. She has a lot to contend with, but I can help with the grief part, for I remember well the fog that enveloped me the year after each parent's death. The fog lifts eventually, but the sadness never leaves. Not entirely. I miss my mother, I do. I still read things that she would enjoy, and am sad that she can't enjoy them. As maddening as she could be, I wish she were still here. Don't want you to think I don't also miss my dad. I am reminded of him every time I have a show in an Elks Club or see someone driving around with a car full of painting supplies with ladders on top.
But he isn't who I called when I saw something funny or maddening or wonderfully put. If he answered the phone, he would immediately hand it off to Mom. But he's not there to hand off the phone, and she's not there to take it from him, and that may be the proper order of things but that just stinks.
If there isn't an afterlife, I'm going to be so P.O.d. Of course, if there isn't, I won't have the ability to be P.O.'d, will I? (Such are the things that can keep me up nights, but nevermind....)
The only good thing about losing my parents is that I can be of comfort to other people who have lost parents.
One thing: This friend said that two months after the death of her parent, some people are suggesting she should be "over" it already. To this, I could only respond, "Tell them to go f*** themselves, and tell them I said so."
Now, I'm not one to drop the f-bomb unless there is no other word that will do, but anyone who would try to shame someone who is grieving deserves a verbal kick in the pants, if not a literal one. True, these people are likely uncomfortable with emotion or mortality or something that reflects the all-too-human resistance to unpleasant realities, but to suggest to someone who has lost a parent they should "snap out of it" in a matter of weeks has something broken inside. Badly broken.
It took me a year after each parent's death to get past feeling as though someone had hit me in the head with a 2 x 4. Two months?
Altogether now: What a Puddin'head.
Lastly, I dreamt of being in chemo last night with a grand group of women who I was apparently friends with, but I don't remember recognizing any of them. We were having quite a time trying on terrible wigs.
This dream is a combination of bad news I heard about a fellow dog nut in town and a documentary about the making of "Wig in a Box," a CD of "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" songs that was a fundraiser for a high school for GLBT and questioning kids in NYC. I ordered the CD, in the hopes that might end the wig references in my dreams; as to what I can do for my sister in dog adoration, I don't know....
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Truer words....
My dear, departed mother, who could turn quite a phrase, often said, "Once you hit 40, it's patch, patch, patch."
Considering my recent spate of repairs, a friend of mine suggests I work on material regarding a "Patch-a-Thon."
My friend, you may have guessed, is younger than I am. My decrepitude is amusing as all heck to the whippersnapper, but to this ol' Dykesaurus? Phooey!
Seriously, I guess I don't really mind so much. Intimations of mortality are nothing new for this battered soul. But the old joke about how I would have taken better care of myself if I had known I was going to live this long has been occurring to me. Over and over again.
In the messy span that was my youth and young adulthood, I didn't expect to live much past 30. Today, I'm 17 years older than that.
Yeah, recovery is grand, but enduring--well, it can be a pain.
Let's review: I had a root canal in 2001 or so, only to have it fail last year. (Yes, the same year that I lost most of my job and was prescribed a colonoscopy, but let's not go there) I had a procedure that was supposed to fix said failure, but I learned just recently that it failed, too. So, the tooth has to come out.
Once six months have passed, I get to have an implant. There may be a joke in here someday, when I actually do get the implant and I can ask people if they can tell I've had some work done, but that may be pushing it.....
Now, my eyes have decided to slip quite a bit, enough so that I need "progressive" lenses. While I love the name, the reality is that the longer I wear them (I just got them today), the more tired and nauseous I become.
That's not progress.
Of course, this is supposed to pass--but then again, so am I!
Ah, there's always a bright spot, isn't there?
Actually, there is. I may be getting some time over at one of my favorite Boston-area clubs. There's nothing official to report, but there's hope.
And that is the best news I have. That and the fabulous "Girls, Girls, Girls!" is coming up on the 30th, and so are my brother and sister-in-law. Should be quite a show and quite a weekend.
But now, I must walk the beasts.
Considering my recent spate of repairs, a friend of mine suggests I work on material regarding a "Patch-a-Thon."
My friend, you may have guessed, is younger than I am. My decrepitude is amusing as all heck to the whippersnapper, but to this ol' Dykesaurus? Phooey!
Seriously, I guess I don't really mind so much. Intimations of mortality are nothing new for this battered soul. But the old joke about how I would have taken better care of myself if I had known I was going to live this long has been occurring to me. Over and over again.
In the messy span that was my youth and young adulthood, I didn't expect to live much past 30. Today, I'm 17 years older than that.
Yeah, recovery is grand, but enduring--well, it can be a pain.
Let's review: I had a root canal in 2001 or so, only to have it fail last year. (Yes, the same year that I lost most of my job and was prescribed a colonoscopy, but let's not go there) I had a procedure that was supposed to fix said failure, but I learned just recently that it failed, too. So, the tooth has to come out.
Once six months have passed, I get to have an implant. There may be a joke in here someday, when I actually do get the implant and I can ask people if they can tell I've had some work done, but that may be pushing it.....
Now, my eyes have decided to slip quite a bit, enough so that I need "progressive" lenses. While I love the name, the reality is that the longer I wear them (I just got them today), the more tired and nauseous I become.
That's not progress.
Of course, this is supposed to pass--but then again, so am I!
Ah, there's always a bright spot, isn't there?
Actually, there is. I may be getting some time over at one of my favorite Boston-area clubs. There's nothing official to report, but there's hope.
And that is the best news I have. That and the fabulous "Girls, Girls, Girls!" is coming up on the 30th, and so are my brother and sister-in-law. Should be quite a show and quite a weekend.
But now, I must walk the beasts.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
I knew her when!
Am pleased as punch to report a good friend of mine from my art major days (UW-Milwaukee, 1977-1979), Kathryn Siegler, is having a major show at a gallery in San Francisco. She sent me the gallery's postcard heralding the event, and it described her and her work so beautifully, it made me think, "At last, somebody really gets her and her art."
Thrilling, that. Go here to get a look at examples of her "elegant and subtle strokes" that resonate with her "keen, dry sense of humor and straightforward Mid-Western tenet...."
It looks as though a number of her works have already sold, bless 'er heart.
Way to go, Daddy-o! (In case you're wondering, we had all sorts of names for each other back in the day.)
Thrilling, that. Go here to get a look at examples of her "elegant and subtle strokes" that resonate with her "keen, dry sense of humor and straightforward Mid-Western tenet...."
It looks as though a number of her works have already sold, bless 'er heart.
Way to go, Daddy-o! (In case you're wondering, we had all sorts of names for each other back in the day.)
Working on the weekend?
Somehow, I am working this weekend. Now, I know that isn't right.
But then again, neither is underemployment.
Anyhoo, I was warned that this job entailed a work deluge in the late summer/early fall, and as it is late summer/early fall, I guess this is to be expected.
Still, it seems wrong. In a word: Harrumph!
Did get to watch some of the Open, though, and was happy to see Andy Roddick advance to the final. I missed yesterday's matches, which was for the best. Justine Henin-Hardenne (she who I would not trust with a wooden nickle) and Maria Sharapova (she who is pretty, but has eyes that betray a killer lurking within) advanced, which means that Amelie Mauresmo (she who may have to allow talk of her "nerves" again) lost.
Merde.
Brought our "boy" Linus to the vet today, for he has been licking up a storm. We worried about all sorts of scenarios, but our vet's best guess is that he has allergies. Apparently, September's ragweed wreaks havoc on the canine set, and our dear son may be among the afflicted.
Just like his two mommies. Poor duck.
Lastly, to report on Thursday night's open mic seems silly, as it was a dud. Not an enormous dud, but more of a quiet dud. For most of us, I fear. The audience seemed tentative--no, maybe that was me--and it just never quite got going....or something. Even Jennifer (she who can usually rally the near-dead) had no luck, but she's been cursed with the happiness of late, so comedy is a bit of a challenge for her.
It's best left to us miserable wretches...8-(
But then again, neither is underemployment.
Anyhoo, I was warned that this job entailed a work deluge in the late summer/early fall, and as it is late summer/early fall, I guess this is to be expected.
Still, it seems wrong. In a word: Harrumph!
Did get to watch some of the Open, though, and was happy to see Andy Roddick advance to the final. I missed yesterday's matches, which was for the best. Justine Henin-Hardenne (she who I would not trust with a wooden nickle) and Maria Sharapova (she who is pretty, but has eyes that betray a killer lurking within) advanced, which means that Amelie Mauresmo (she who may have to allow talk of her "nerves" again) lost.
Merde.
Brought our "boy" Linus to the vet today, for he has been licking up a storm. We worried about all sorts of scenarios, but our vet's best guess is that he has allergies. Apparently, September's ragweed wreaks havoc on the canine set, and our dear son may be among the afflicted.
Just like his two mommies. Poor duck.
Lastly, to report on Thursday night's open mic seems silly, as it was a dud. Not an enormous dud, but more of a quiet dud. For most of us, I fear. The audience seemed tentative--no, maybe that was me--and it just never quite got going....or something. Even Jennifer (she who can usually rally the near-dead) had no luck, but she's been cursed with the happiness of late, so comedy is a bit of a challenge for her.
It's best left to us miserable wretches...8-(
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Gratitude
My current job has been a hectic affair of late, with crushing deadlines, last-minute changes, and bureaucratic hoo-hah the likes of which I haven't seen in years.
That said, I am happy for this job. This time last year, I was underemployed and working as a temp for the local superintendent of schools. (The super? She was fabulous. The job? Not so much.) Now at least I'm making a living wage and socking money away for retirement, which at the moment can't come a minute too soon.
But I digress.
What I saw this weekend gave me something to think about every time I think my job is just a menial exercise in futility. For while I have had a lot of terrible jobs in my day (graveyard shift waitress at Bob's Big Boy, for one major example), I saw a job this weekend that made me feel oh-so-lucky in so many ways. For no matter how bad things got, I never had the job the likes of which I saw at the rest stop on the Pike. To wit: Crowd control in the ladies' room.
Yes, there is a job in which one keeps bathroom lines moving. It consists of yelling "Next!" and pointing out the stall that is vacant.
If that isn't a job to make you wonder, "What if?" I don't know what is.
But you know what else? The woman who had this terrible job of all terrible jobs was doing a fabulous job of it. She was yelling "Next" with vigor, and helping the ladies along by giving them helpful hints, like "Third door on the left!" and "Last door on the right!"
She kept that line moving, and with gusto. That was something to see.
Moral of the story: If you don't have a great job, give it your best. If nothing else, it will keep things moving along...
And on the subject of moving along, can you believe it's September already? Disturbing that may be, the good news is tomorrow night is the famous Comedy Open Mic at PACE in Easthampton. $3 for all The Comedy you can stand (maybe more). See you there!
That said, I am happy for this job. This time last year, I was underemployed and working as a temp for the local superintendent of schools. (The super? She was fabulous. The job? Not so much.) Now at least I'm making a living wage and socking money away for retirement, which at the moment can't come a minute too soon.
But I digress.
What I saw this weekend gave me something to think about every time I think my job is just a menial exercise in futility. For while I have had a lot of terrible jobs in my day (graveyard shift waitress at Bob's Big Boy, for one major example), I saw a job this weekend that made me feel oh-so-lucky in so many ways. For no matter how bad things got, I never had the job the likes of which I saw at the rest stop on the Pike. To wit: Crowd control in the ladies' room.
Yes, there is a job in which one keeps bathroom lines moving. It consists of yelling "Next!" and pointing out the stall that is vacant.
If that isn't a job to make you wonder, "What if?" I don't know what is.
But you know what else? The woman who had this terrible job of all terrible jobs was doing a fabulous job of it. She was yelling "Next" with vigor, and helping the ladies along by giving them helpful hints, like "Third door on the left!" and "Last door on the right!"
She kept that line moving, and with gusto. That was something to see.
Moral of the story: If you don't have a great job, give it your best. If nothing else, it will keep things moving along...
And on the subject of moving along, can you believe it's September already? Disturbing that may be, the good news is tomorrow night is the famous Comedy Open Mic at PACE in Easthampton. $3 for all The Comedy you can stand (maybe more). See you there!
Monday, September 04, 2006
Dyke dynamics
We took a walk with the dogs in a local conservation area this morning, and when we were almost at the end, we came across two lesbians and their children.
Of course, in this neck of the woods it could have been two straight women with sensible haircuts and their children, but they read "Family" to me.
Anyway, as we approached them, one of the women began speaking to me in a very authoritarian tone. She said something along the lines of, "Your dogs should be on leashes. I am a member of the Board of this conservation area, and we have had trouble with dogs abusing the wildlife in this area and have enacted leash laws as a result and BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH...."
To be perfectly honest, I stopped hearing her somewhere around the "member of the Board" business, for if there is anything that's bound to close my earflaps, it's the sound of OFFICIOUS AUTHORITY. That the officiousness is coming from someone who appeared to share my sexuality didn't help a bit.
In fact, it made it worse somehow. Humorless, dogmatic dykes--goddess spare us!
I did respond that we were aware of the law, but as our dogs are at the age where we're grateful they're still walking, we chose to ignore it. They are no more a threat to wildlife at this stage of their lives than I am. (After 15 years of sobriety, the only laws I break are leash laws--ain't that a kick?)
Afterwards, I thought of something I wish I had said (typical), and if I had had my wits about me at the time the Board Dyke gave me an earful, I would have said, "Well, I'm a comic, and humorless authoritarian types such as yourself are an endless source of material, and I'd like to thank you. Now, I'd like to take my aged, arthritic dogs home, if you don't mind...."
The thing is, she was absolutely right. But the way she presented herself to us made me want to go out and terrorize some wildlife myself. Right in front of her. Twice.
Okay, so I have trouble with authority. This I know. So when someone gets on their high horse, I want to spook that horse and make it run toward trees with low branches so it knocks that someone right on her righteous ass.
And I know that if I were a big, burly guy with a big group of burly guys, she wouldn't have said a peep. (People have long felt free to give me lectures; I appear to have "Won't fight back" written on my forehead.)
Sigh.
On other fronts, we spent a couple of days visiting some NYC friends, and had a good time. The weather didn't cooperate with our plans (we were going to go to a festival called "Day to Be Gay"), but instead we watched the U.S. Open, and all had a good cry when Andre Agassi lost what is supposed to be his final tournament.
Nothing like a good cry over a good guy, I must say. Andre has been a delight to watch over the years, and I'm going to miss him very much.
Now, if the people who decide these things would just show us a match or two with Mauresmo.....
Of course, in this neck of the woods it could have been two straight women with sensible haircuts and their children, but they read "Family" to me.
Anyway, as we approached them, one of the women began speaking to me in a very authoritarian tone. She said something along the lines of, "Your dogs should be on leashes. I am a member of the Board of this conservation area, and we have had trouble with dogs abusing the wildlife in this area and have enacted leash laws as a result and BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH...."
To be perfectly honest, I stopped hearing her somewhere around the "member of the Board" business, for if there is anything that's bound to close my earflaps, it's the sound of OFFICIOUS AUTHORITY. That the officiousness is coming from someone who appeared to share my sexuality didn't help a bit.
In fact, it made it worse somehow. Humorless, dogmatic dykes--goddess spare us!
I did respond that we were aware of the law, but as our dogs are at the age where we're grateful they're still walking, we chose to ignore it. They are no more a threat to wildlife at this stage of their lives than I am. (After 15 years of sobriety, the only laws I break are leash laws--ain't that a kick?)
Well, she was unmoved. I am surprised we don't have a police cruiser in the front drive, and our dogs haven't been cited for being a threat to wildlife.
Afterwards, I thought of something I wish I had said (typical), and if I had had my wits about me at the time the Board Dyke gave me an earful, I would have said, "Well, I'm a comic, and humorless authoritarian types such as yourself are an endless source of material, and I'd like to thank you. Now, I'd like to take my aged, arthritic dogs home, if you don't mind...."
The thing is, she was absolutely right. But the way she presented herself to us made me want to go out and terrorize some wildlife myself. Right in front of her. Twice.
Okay, so I have trouble with authority. This I know. So when someone gets on their high horse, I want to spook that horse and make it run toward trees with low branches so it knocks that someone right on her righteous ass.
And I know that if I were a big, burly guy with a big group of burly guys, she wouldn't have said a peep. (People have long felt free to give me lectures; I appear to have "Won't fight back" written on my forehead.)
Sigh.
On other fronts, we spent a couple of days visiting some NYC friends, and had a good time. The weather didn't cooperate with our plans (we were going to go to a festival called "Day to Be Gay"), but instead we watched the U.S. Open, and all had a good cry when Andre Agassi lost what is supposed to be his final tournament.
Nothing like a good cry over a good guy, I must say. Andre has been a delight to watch over the years, and I'm going to miss him very much.
Now, if the people who decide these things would just show us a match or two with Mauresmo.....
Sunday, August 27, 2006
High maintenance, high art
My life has had several recurrent themes, but one is up for me this Sunday: People who seem compelled to inform me of their superior way of doing things. Over and over. And over. Again.
When I don't ask for their advice. Or even suggest having trouble with the topic under advisement.
Don't most people know that unsolicited advice is a less-than-worthless commodity? Or am I one of the few people who has learned this the hard way--by being on the receiving end of truckloads of it?
This insistence on sharing one's "wisdom" is one thing; it can be a way of trying to make the other's life better. However, when the "wisdom" is shared it in such a way that suggests you must be (1) an idiot or (2) resistant to what's good for you/right/"natural"/P.C. is another.
Infuriating, in a word.
But I digress.....
We saw a performance of the Mark Morris dance group at the Pillow this weekend that was just breathtaking. It was moving, it was funny, it was just a delight, from beginning to end. (Okay, I wasn't mad about one piece, but there was far, far more to love than not.)
So, there was that.
And I have put together an expanded if not comprehensive calendar of upcoming comic events that gives me great hope for the fall--should be a hoot, if nothing else.
If my job doesn't completely sap my will to live. But I digress....
When I don't ask for their advice. Or even suggest having trouble with the topic under advisement.
Don't most people know that unsolicited advice is a less-than-worthless commodity? Or am I one of the few people who has learned this the hard way--by being on the receiving end of truckloads of it?
This insistence on sharing one's "wisdom" is one thing; it can be a way of trying to make the other's life better. However, when the "wisdom" is shared it in such a way that suggests you must be (1) an idiot or (2) resistant to what's good for you/right/"natural"/P.C. is another.
Infuriating, in a word.
But I digress.....
We saw a performance of the Mark Morris dance group at the Pillow this weekend that was just breathtaking. It was moving, it was funny, it was just a delight, from beginning to end. (Okay, I wasn't mad about one piece, but there was far, far more to love than not.)
So, there was that.
And I have put together an expanded if not comprehensive calendar of upcoming comic events that gives me great hope for the fall--should be a hoot, if nothing else.
If my job doesn't completely sap my will to live. But I digress....
Monday, August 21, 2006
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Remiss, I've been remiss!
Between working eight + hours per day during the week, then on weekends toiling on the new walk project and/or dashing out to Becket for country and culture, I have had no blog time.
You're all handling it somehow, I'm sure, but I miss this blog when I'm gone.
Linda decided we needed a better front walk. It had been an odd assortment of slate and bluestone that was too close to the shrubs for comfort, so she had a point. Thing is, she decided we should install a walk of pavers--they were called bricks in my day, but I digress.
It may be a do-it-yourself project, but it's a do-it-yourself project and MORE than a half. Two thirds, perhaps?
You don't just remove the old slates and plop down pavers. Oh no. One must excavate at least 7 inches of dirt, which entails more shoveling than I've done since I lived in NE Wisconsin and was on snow removal duty (we had a corner lot, which means more sidewalk).
Once you excavate, you then must shovel in a sand-rock mixture that forms a base. But you don't just toss it in, you must rent a monster machine called a Plate Compactor that vibrates the living daylights out of your carcass (while soaking it in small engine fumes--delightful!).
It weighs a freakin' ton, as you can imagine, and getting it in and out of the car took every last bit of ooomph I had. Maybe more. (I've been walking a little askew ever since. Perhaps it's time for a visit to my friendly neighborhood chiropractor?)
The worst part of the process? We didn't have enough of the sand-rock mixture, so had to order more. And we get to do the shovel and shimmy process with yet another Plate Compactor this weekend. Once we finish that, there's one more level of sand to put in, before we can drop in the pavers (I don't expect to do that for a week, maybe more).
The good news is that we will also be going to a play at the Chester Theater, which used to be called the Miniature Theater of Chester, but decided it was too big for such a sweet name.
I don't agree. I loved going to a miniature theater, but then, I might not be their desired demographic. Sigh.
Now, must get back to work.
One last thing: There is some comedy coming up, but not until late September, early October--I'll let you know when it's "official." Speaking of official, I have been officially glued to "Last Comic Standing," even though it can be a trial to watch at times. Was thrilled at how far Michelle Balan made it, and am glad that the last two comics aren't the usual straight white guys.
Reading the news, it occurs to me we could all use a rest from them. But of course, I'm not their desired demographic, either.
I'm handling that just fine, btw.
You're all handling it somehow, I'm sure, but I miss this blog when I'm gone.
Linda decided we needed a better front walk. It had been an odd assortment of slate and bluestone that was too close to the shrubs for comfort, so she had a point. Thing is, she decided we should install a walk of pavers--they were called bricks in my day, but I digress.
It may be a do-it-yourself project, but it's a do-it-yourself project and MORE than a half. Two thirds, perhaps?
You don't just remove the old slates and plop down pavers. Oh no. One must excavate at least 7 inches of dirt, which entails more shoveling than I've done since I lived in NE Wisconsin and was on snow removal duty (we had a corner lot, which means more sidewalk).
Once you excavate, you then must shovel in a sand-rock mixture that forms a base. But you don't just toss it in, you must rent a monster machine called a Plate Compactor that vibrates the living daylights out of your carcass (while soaking it in small engine fumes--delightful!).
It weighs a freakin' ton, as you can imagine, and getting it in and out of the car took every last bit of ooomph I had. Maybe more. (I've been walking a little askew ever since. Perhaps it's time for a visit to my friendly neighborhood chiropractor?)
The worst part of the process? We didn't have enough of the sand-rock mixture, so had to order more. And we get to do the shovel and shimmy process with yet another Plate Compactor this weekend. Once we finish that, there's one more level of sand to put in, before we can drop in the pavers (I don't expect to do that for a week, maybe more).
Then we get to rent the Plate Compactor ONE MORE TIME, to tamp down the pavers.
My heart be still.The good news is that we will also be going to a play at the Chester Theater, which used to be called the Miniature Theater of Chester, but decided it was too big for such a sweet name.
I don't agree. I loved going to a miniature theater, but then, I might not be their desired demographic. Sigh.
Now, must get back to work.
One last thing: There is some comedy coming up, but not until late September, early October--I'll let you know when it's "official." Speaking of official, I have been officially glued to "Last Comic Standing," even though it can be a trial to watch at times. Was thrilled at how far Michelle Balan made it, and am glad that the last two comics aren't the usual straight white guys.
Reading the news, it occurs to me we could all use a rest from them. But of course, I'm not their desired demographic, either.
I'm handling that just fine, btw.
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