Still not making much progress with a certain Studio in Cambridge, but I did get a wonderfully open invitation late this week from your friend and mine, Jimmy Tingle.
So, if you're casting about for something to do tonight, consider this:
Jimmy Tingle's Comedy Showcase
Saturday, May 19, 2007 @ 10 PM. Cost: $15
255 Elm Street, Somerville, MA 02144
Toll-Free Tickets: (866) 811-4111
Box Office: (617) 591-1616
Jimmy's doing his latest solo act beforehand, which sounds great, too (check it out!).
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Bon voyage, Jerry Falwell
From Right Wing Watch:
"[W]e must stop the homosexuals dead in their tracks -- before they get one step further towards warping the minds of our youth." Moral Majority fundraiser, 4/1/81
"In my age, we laughed at queers, fairies, and anyone who was thought to be a homosexual. It was a hideous thing, and no one talked about it, much less ever confessed to being a homosexual... I believe the United States will be destroyed if we permit homosexuality as an alternative lifestyle." "How You Can Help Clean Up America"
"Can you imagine a regiment of homosexual men and lesbian women leading an assault on the Red Army? How much respect would the Communists have for such a collection of perverts." Billings (MT) Gazette, 3/11/81
"Remember, homosexuals do not reproduce! They recruit! And many of them are out after my children and your children." Fundraising letter, 8/13/81
Falwell told the James Robison Bible Conference that candidates who seek support from homosexuals "should be disbarred from running for any office." Houston Chronicle, 2/27/82
"[T]his deadly plague [AIDS] is already spreading into the heterosexual community, because of bisexuals who are carriers -- even affecting innocent young children. This is sexual TERRORISM -- and even more deadly than a gun or bomb. Across the country the militant homosexuals -- carriers of this deadly disease -- have gained civil rights advantages which seriously compromise the health and safety of Americans everywhere. ... You and I are the innocent victims of this perverted and deadly lifestyle -- AND WE HAVE NO PLACE TO HIDE." Moral Majority fundraising letter
"Herpes is the judgment of God upon the nation." WNEW-TV, 11/22/82
"Everybody wants their rights ... Now the homosexuals -- they want to be a minority. They want gay rights referenda going on all the time. So why are you against that? Listen, if you want to live like an animal, go ahead. That's your business. If you want to live an immoral life, go ahead ... but don't expect to be rewarded for it. Don't try to be a minority -- you've chosen to be a pervert, live like one. You've chosen to live a dirty life -- and unclean life … but don't expect the public to reward you and make you a bona fide minority." Old-Time Gospel Hour, 4/21/81
"I believe the women's liberation movement is mainly staffed by a large group of frustrated failures, many of them lesbians, and all of them anti-biblical." "America Can Be Saved" (1979) p. 36
"We would not be having the present moral crisis regarding the homosexual movement if men and women accepted their proper roles as designated by God. God's plan is for men to be manly and spiritual in all areas of Christian leadership ... In the Christian home the woman is to be submissive." "Listen, America!" p. 183
And, lest we think he singled out queers and women, let us recall his infamous "thoughts" after 9/11:
"I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People For the American Way - all of them who have tried to secularize America - I point the finger in their face and say "you helped this happen."
A loss for crackpot Christians everywhere, a small, short sigh of relief for the rest of us.
But you know, another Falwell will be along shortly--if she isn't already here (take Ann Coulter...please)--because nature and attention-starved nincompoops alike abhor a vacuum.
"[W]e must stop the homosexuals dead in their tracks -- before they get one step further towards warping the minds of our youth." Moral Majority fundraiser, 4/1/81
"In my age, we laughed at queers, fairies, and anyone who was thought to be a homosexual. It was a hideous thing, and no one talked about it, much less ever confessed to being a homosexual... I believe the United States will be destroyed if we permit homosexuality as an alternative lifestyle." "How You Can Help Clean Up America"
"Can you imagine a regiment of homosexual men and lesbian women leading an assault on the Red Army? How much respect would the Communists have for such a collection of perverts." Billings (MT) Gazette, 3/11/81
"Remember, homosexuals do not reproduce! They recruit! And many of them are out after my children and your children." Fundraising letter, 8/13/81
Falwell told the James Robison Bible Conference that candidates who seek support from homosexuals "should be disbarred from running for any office." Houston Chronicle, 2/27/82
"[T]his deadly plague [AIDS] is already spreading into the heterosexual community, because of bisexuals who are carriers -- even affecting innocent young children. This is sexual TERRORISM -- and even more deadly than a gun or bomb. Across the country the militant homosexuals -- carriers of this deadly disease -- have gained civil rights advantages which seriously compromise the health and safety of Americans everywhere. ... You and I are the innocent victims of this perverted and deadly lifestyle -- AND WE HAVE NO PLACE TO HIDE." Moral Majority fundraising letter
"Herpes is the judgment of God upon the nation." WNEW-TV, 11/22/82
"Everybody wants their rights ... Now the homosexuals -- they want to be a minority. They want gay rights referenda going on all the time. So why are you against that? Listen, if you want to live like an animal, go ahead. That's your business. If you want to live an immoral life, go ahead ... but don't expect to be rewarded for it. Don't try to be a minority -- you've chosen to be a pervert, live like one. You've chosen to live a dirty life -- and unclean life … but don't expect the public to reward you and make you a bona fide minority." Old-Time Gospel Hour, 4/21/81
"I believe the women's liberation movement is mainly staffed by a large group of frustrated failures, many of them lesbians, and all of them anti-biblical." "America Can Be Saved" (1979) p. 36
"We would not be having the present moral crisis regarding the homosexual movement if men and women accepted their proper roles as designated by God. God's plan is for men to be manly and spiritual in all areas of Christian leadership ... In the Christian home the woman is to be submissive." "Listen, America!" p. 183
And, lest we think he singled out queers and women, let us recall his infamous "thoughts" after 9/11:
"I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People For the American Way - all of them who have tried to secularize America - I point the finger in their face and say "you helped this happen."
A loss for crackpot Christians everywhere, a small, short sigh of relief for the rest of us.
But you know, another Falwell will be along shortly--if she isn't already here (take Ann Coulter...please)--because nature and attention-starved nincompoops alike abhor a vacuum.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Linus hits another rough patch....
This aging business, I tell you.
Linus hurt his shoulder last Thursday barking at the paper boy (we still haven't figured out how), and has been having an awful time since. The biggest problem is that he doesn't recognize his limitations, so tries to do things that just aren't in the cards and ends up hurting himself even more than he's already hurt.
Yesterday, for example, he tried to jump off the back steps, and landed with a thud--not on his feet, in other words. He's still paying for that miscalculation today (so far, he's been unable to get up on his favorite perch, the chaise).
I have been fighting to keep present through all of this, for denial is the default of my people. (Wasn't "Don't ask, don't tell" a Wisconsin boy's idea? Les Aspin, to be specific?) It is silly, for there are still things we can do to make him more comfortable--The End is far from nigh.
But then, my mother could have written the "Worst Case Scenario Handbook" in her sleep, so perhaps I should not be too hard on myself, eh?
Linda, bless her heart, has been propelled into action by her worry. This morning she made ingenious use of a piece of leftover fence to make Linus a wonderful ramp to the back yard.
What a gal!
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Happy 2007 Noho Pride!
Yours truly with rainbows....
An homage to Victoria White (we both teared up over this one).
Little darlin's carrying the flag (gives one hope, doesn't it?).
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Weekend update
It's been another couple of those weeks, so I haven't been keeping up as well as I would have liked. Sorry about that...
Had two sets of The Comedy this week, and I can't complain, really. (Not jumping up and down for joy, either, but when, exactly, do I do that?)
The first was on the hallowed stage of The Comedy Studio, Wednesday night. Spring has sprung in earnest in Cambridge as well as in the Western territories of the Commonwealth, so the audience was primarily comics waiting for their turn. They were gracious, though, and my set was fairly well received. Didn't do much of anything new, for it was neither the time nor the place, and I was tired and didn't trust my memory banks to remember my new stuff. The evening was capped with a bizarre detour through Boston that is the sort of strange episode that doesn't come my way very often--since I stopped drinking, that is. It was fun, actually, in a Wow-that-was-odd-but-familiar-wasn't-it? kinda way.....
Speaking of not drinking, today, Cinco de Mayo, marks 16 years that I've been officially off the sauce. If my sobriety were a person, it would likely be a sullen teen right now. (Thankfully, my sobriety is not a person, eh?)
Thursday night was Jennifer's wonderful open mic, also thinly attended due to the gorgeous weather we're having. I tried all new material (but for my opener, but I didn't open with it), and it went over pretty well. Big Company(R) inspired a new piece based on the famous poem by Pastor Niemoller (SP?), the "First, they came for the [fill-in-the-blank], but I wasn't a [fill-in-the-blank], so I did nothing" poem.
I revised it with a Corporate slant ("First, they outsourced the Telemarketers..."), and I think it has promise. Also did a small bit on my upcoming high school reunion that will likely be enriched by my actual attendance at said reunion next month. But really--when I think about who I was in 1977 at graduation from Marinette Senior High School and who I am today, I am going to be among the most drastically different people there.
Unless there's a transman or transwoman there--that would be cool! We shall see....
Anyway, back to the open mic. The highlight of the evening was a comic piece performed by Jennifer's Scotchie, a dear man who set the stage for a strip comedy routine that defies description.
It was brilliant, funny and terrifying. All at once.
You should have been there, that's all I'm going to say.
Had two sets of The Comedy this week, and I can't complain, really. (Not jumping up and down for joy, either, but when, exactly, do I do that?)
The first was on the hallowed stage of The Comedy Studio, Wednesday night. Spring has sprung in earnest in Cambridge as well as in the Western territories of the Commonwealth, so the audience was primarily comics waiting for their turn. They were gracious, though, and my set was fairly well received. Didn't do much of anything new, for it was neither the time nor the place, and I was tired and didn't trust my memory banks to remember my new stuff. The evening was capped with a bizarre detour through Boston that is the sort of strange episode that doesn't come my way very often--since I stopped drinking, that is. It was fun, actually, in a Wow-that-was-odd-but-familiar-wasn't-it? kinda way.....
Speaking of not drinking, today, Cinco de Mayo, marks 16 years that I've been officially off the sauce. If my sobriety were a person, it would likely be a sullen teen right now. (Thankfully, my sobriety is not a person, eh?)
Thursday night was Jennifer's wonderful open mic, also thinly attended due to the gorgeous weather we're having. I tried all new material (but for my opener, but I didn't open with it), and it went over pretty well. Big Company(R) inspired a new piece based on the famous poem by Pastor Niemoller (SP?), the "First, they came for the [fill-in-the-blank], but I wasn't a [fill-in-the-blank], so I did nothing" poem.
I revised it with a Corporate slant ("First, they outsourced the Telemarketers..."), and I think it has promise. Also did a small bit on my upcoming high school reunion that will likely be enriched by my actual attendance at said reunion next month. But really--when I think about who I was in 1977 at graduation from Marinette Senior High School and who I am today, I am going to be among the most drastically different people there.
Unless there's a transman or transwoman there--that would be cool! We shall see....
Anyway, back to the open mic. The highlight of the evening was a comic piece performed by Jennifer's Scotchie, a dear man who set the stage for a strip comedy routine that defies description.
It was brilliant, funny and terrifying. All at once.
You should have been there, that's all I'm going to say.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
New poster child for Planned Parenthood!
We had our Take Our Daughters and Sons to Work Day today, and all that running/standing around and shepherding little darlin's to the loo or the next session took the stuffing right out of me.
I expected it to be a mad, hectic day, which it was. What I did not expect was to have a boy in the 10-12 year-old-range say, "Up yours!" to me.
This charming phrase was uttered by the little whelp because I had the audacity to tell him and his three friends to (1) quit picking on the girls in the row ahead of them and (2) move back a row, so they'd be far enough away from the girls so they'd have to leave them alone.
If children are our future, the future's looking a little snarky.
Seriously, when I was in the 10-12-year-old range, I may have thought the occasional rude thought about a grown-up, but I sure as heck wouldn't say it. Out loud. At my parent's place of work, for pity's sake.
I only hope the little so-n-so didn't insult any of the other volunteers.
Oh well, that bit of business was depressing, but that may largely be my fatigue talking. The day was a success overall, for which I am very grateful.
But will I volunteer for a whole day of "Daughters and Sons" again? Not if I can help it....
Maybe if it went back to just being for "Daughters"--that I would do! (At least until little girls start saying, "Up yours!" to grownups, that is.)
I expected it to be a mad, hectic day, which it was. What I did not expect was to have a boy in the 10-12 year-old-range say, "Up yours!" to me.
This charming phrase was uttered by the little whelp because I had the audacity to tell him and his three friends to (1) quit picking on the girls in the row ahead of them and (2) move back a row, so they'd be far enough away from the girls so they'd have to leave them alone.
If children are our future, the future's looking a little snarky.
Seriously, when I was in the 10-12-year-old range, I may have thought the occasional rude thought about a grown-up, but I sure as heck wouldn't say it. Out loud. At my parent's place of work, for pity's sake.
I only hope the little so-n-so didn't insult any of the other volunteers.
Oh well, that bit of business was depressing, but that may largely be my fatigue talking. The day was a success overall, for which I am very grateful.
But will I volunteer for a whole day of "Daughters and Sons" again? Not if I can help it....
Maybe if it went back to just being for "Daughters"--that I would do! (At least until little girls start saying, "Up yours!" to grownups, that is.)
Sunday, April 22, 2007
What a difference a day made...
Really looked at the work that was done on our kitchen counter tops, and am now wondering what I was smoking yesterday (nothing at all, but sometimes my sense does take quite a holiday). It looks like the sort of job you'd expect from a couple of kids left alone with power tools for an afternoon, not something done by a professional. I offer some photos for your consideration, if you find renos gone wrong of interest.
Needless to say, I think we're in for another bit of kitchen drama--the stove, obviously, was but a warm-up. Sigh.
One could almost get wistful about the "good old days" when one was a renter, but those were really not-so-hot days, punctuated with the boot stomps and bad music choices of neighbors above and to the side of one's hovel.
At least that's how I recall life in my last studio in the East Village.
So, a stove debacle and a countertop flop are small prices to pay for quiet. At least that's what I say now. Will I retain my calm as we try to get free of this mess? We shall see....
Friday, April 20, 2007
Sigh.
Well, that was humbling.
One would think I had a head the size of the Great Outdoors from all of the humility that was shown my way yesterday.
The nursing home was just what one would expect, but the facility and staff appeared much better than I had feared from the advance reading I had done. (Maybe they're under new management?) The Comedy at the Home, however--well, that went about as poorly as it usually does with this sort of crowd, but I am glad to report that I had moments of fun in spite of the long, slow twist I had in front of the slack-jawed masses. Boney and Nikki helped make it much less of a soul-crushing enterprise.
Aside: I was instructed to get a MySpace site toute de suite, despite my contention that I am far too "mature" for a presence on this venue. The Word, according to Boney and Nikki, comics with far more experience than I, is that one must have a MySpace site to "sell one's wares" in the comedy marketplace.
Something will have to give if I do that--this blog or my pathetic web site (gee, which way do you think I'm leaning with this decision?).
As for the contest? Well, I did okay set-wise, but not well enough to get advanced to the next round. At least the two guys who got spots had original, funny material--and one was even a fellow asthmatic who does hilarious jokes about the condition. (Who knew there was comedy in lung disease?) The best thing that happened at this event was that the audience was quiet when I was telling my jokes--I mean, they laughed at the right spots and all, but they listened when I spoke.
That was not a courtesy they extended to most of the other comics, and while it's not much, it's something to be grateful for....
Yeah, I know. Slim pickin's....
On the home front, we're having a new countertop put in our kitchen (the old one looked too sad with the pretty new stove upon it), and work is not exactly going smoothly. A large piece of Formica has been damaged beyond repair, and there are little scuffs and dings and who-knows-what-all throughout the kitchen.
It could be a disaster, and of course, Linda already thinks it is a disaster. Me, I am holding out hope that somehow our contractor will somehow pull it together and the finished product will be fabulous.
Perhaps I'm in a little denial here, but I think I'd rather be in denial that in high lather. I'm too tired for high lather....
One would think I had a head the size of the Great Outdoors from all of the humility that was shown my way yesterday.
The nursing home was just what one would expect, but the facility and staff appeared much better than I had feared from the advance reading I had done. (Maybe they're under new management?) The Comedy at the Home, however--well, that went about as poorly as it usually does with this sort of crowd, but I am glad to report that I had moments of fun in spite of the long, slow twist I had in front of the slack-jawed masses. Boney and Nikki helped make it much less of a soul-crushing enterprise.
Aside: I was instructed to get a MySpace site toute de suite, despite my contention that I am far too "mature" for a presence on this venue. The Word, according to Boney and Nikki, comics with far more experience than I, is that one must have a MySpace site to "sell one's wares" in the comedy marketplace.
Something will have to give if I do that--this blog or my pathetic web site (gee, which way do you think I'm leaning with this decision?).
As for the contest? Well, I did okay set-wise, but not well enough to get advanced to the next round. At least the two guys who got spots had original, funny material--and one was even a fellow asthmatic who does hilarious jokes about the condition. (Who knew there was comedy in lung disease?) The best thing that happened at this event was that the audience was quiet when I was telling my jokes--I mean, they laughed at the right spots and all, but they listened when I spoke.
That was not a courtesy they extended to most of the other comics, and while it's not much, it's something to be grateful for....
Yeah, I know. Slim pickin's....
On the home front, we're having a new countertop put in our kitchen (the old one looked too sad with the pretty new stove upon it), and work is not exactly going smoothly. A large piece of Formica has been damaged beyond repair, and there are little scuffs and dings and who-knows-what-all throughout the kitchen.
It could be a disaster, and of course, Linda already thinks it is a disaster. Me, I am holding out hope that somehow our contractor will somehow pull it together and the finished product will be fabulous.
Perhaps I'm in a little denial here, but I think I'd rather be in denial that in high lather. I'm too tired for high lather....
Thursday, April 19, 2007
TONIGHT: Valley of Laughter Comedy Contest
Since I can't seem to help myself, tonight I will be at Brennan's Place 173 High Street Holyoke, MA 01040 to participate in the new comedy contest dreamt up by Dan the Librarian (or at least I think it's his brainchild--pardon me if I've missed somebody).
If you can't make it (I understand that the allure of an Irish bar in Holyoke may be questionable to most of my friends, particularly the GLBT and sober ones), please pray for me, or a reasonable facsimile.
The good news? According to her blog, Erin Judge will be there, too--she's funny and she's female, so I'm feeling better about doing this. For now.
On other fronts, I have a gig at a nursing home tonight, too (yes, the blessings are raining down on my noggin'). The bad news is that the place has a rather dicey reputation--the first Google entry had to do with how ill-treated the residents are--the good news is if anyone needs a laugh, it's people living in a crappy nursing home.
I'm just hoping the residents don't all look like my mother. That was the case at the last home I tried to make The Comedy in, but it just couldn't happen under those circumstances.
If you can't make it (I understand that the allure of an Irish bar in Holyoke may be questionable to most of my friends, particularly the GLBT and sober ones), please pray for me, or a reasonable facsimile.
The good news? According to her blog, Erin Judge will be there, too--she's funny and she's female, so I'm feeling better about doing this. For now.
On other fronts, I have a gig at a nursing home tonight, too (yes, the blessings are raining down on my noggin'). The bad news is that the place has a rather dicey reputation--the first Google entry had to do with how ill-treated the residents are--the good news is if anyone needs a laugh, it's people living in a crappy nursing home.
I'm just hoping the residents don't all look like my mother. That was the case at the last home I tried to make The Comedy in, but it just couldn't happen under those circumstances.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
My nephew Harry
The critter who rules the roost at my brother and sister-in-law's house in D.C. They do his bidding at every turn.
Can you blame them?
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Spring is here....
...and a not-so-young woman's fancy turns to a new blog template.
What do you think?
What do you think?
The stove. It's outta here!
And I still can't quite believe it.
But the appliance store people came by yesterday to pick up the wrong stove and drop off a check for the right amount to cover the charge that I imagine will now be released onto our credit card.
Or something.
It doesn't really matter. The stove fiasco is O-VAH!
May you, too, someday know the satisfaction of this sort of victory.
Small, but oh-so-satisfying.
Now, I must prepare for a three day weekend, thanks to our friend, Jesus.
(At least that's what my mother-in-law said in her recent card to us.)
Happy what-have-you!
But the appliance store people came by yesterday to pick up the wrong stove and drop off a check for the right amount to cover the charge that I imagine will now be released onto our credit card.
Or something.
It doesn't really matter. The stove fiasco is O-VAH!
May you, too, someday know the satisfaction of this sort of victory.
Small, but oh-so-satisfying.
Now, I must prepare for a three day weekend, thanks to our friend, Jesus.
(At least that's what my mother-in-law said in her recent card to us.)
Happy what-have-you!
Sunday, April 01, 2007
I am milquetoast, hear me roar (maybe)
It appears the saga of the stove on our back porch may soon have a happy ending.
No, I can't quite believe it, either. In fact, I'm almost afraid to note this possibility here, for I am so sure the owners of the appliance store will change their minds back to "Hell no, the stove won't go!" again.
My last salvo in the stove situation was on Thursday, when I sent the store a copy of my SuperPages.com and Better Business Bureau reviews, along with a note quoting Dale Carnegie (one unsatisfied customer = 10 lost sales). But I had sent similar "inspirational" missives to them before--and even had the dear people from the consumer affairs division of the District Attorney's office calling on our behalf--and they were unmoved.
So, when I listened to our voice mail yesterday, and one of the messages was from the store--asking to schedule a time to pick up the stove and drop off a check--I had Linda listen to it, too, for I couldn't quite believe my ears.
Truly, I have no idea if my latest letter did the trick--perhaps they heard from the credit card company, perhaps someone called them to say they heard about our situation and it kept them from shopping at the store.
Who knows?
It doesn't matter. What does matter is that our back porch may soon have a lot more room in it, and our kitchen might soon have a new stove that actually fits in the old stove's spot, not to mention matches the rest of the appliances. Woo!
And what has been a thorn in my side may soon be an accomplishment of no small measure. To me, anyway. (We Midwestern types don't get our assertive on very often, and do so at great peril to our agreeable little psyches.)
Being a rather cynical sort as well as Midwestern down to my marrow, if this does come to a good end...no one will be more surprised than I!
On other fronts, we went to a Don McLean concert last night, a reward courtesy of Big Company (it's a big sponsor of the local symphony, so has season tickets to spare). We went largely because it was free and offered a good excuse to eat at Cafe Lebanon--not because we're big fans of Mr. American Pie. When his band came out--all late middle-aged men in suits, except for the drummer--I was a little worried. And when the drummer--who was dressed like a 20-year-old, but with a full mane of silver hair--had to put on his glasses to read the introductory music, I thought to myself, "Oh goddess, what's this going to be? Lawrence Welk for Boomers?!"
Well, I was mistooken. We had a great time. Don M. is a tremendous performer, even though he is definitely on the wrong side of 50. His voice was perfect, and his lyrics as evocative as any I've heard in ages. And he has the sort of self-deprecating wit that makes his genius less daunting. True, he has a worrisome comb over that suggests a vanity at odds with the wonderful human being he seems to be, but who doesn't have an inconsistency (or several) in this life?
The song about Van Gogh, "Vincent" ("Starry, starry night....") was a highlight, but then, his rendition of "Crying" was a killer, too.
This weekend has been full of surprises, eh? Will keep you posted regarding the stove--it's supposed to happen Wednesday afternoon. We shall see....
No, I can't quite believe it, either. In fact, I'm almost afraid to note this possibility here, for I am so sure the owners of the appliance store will change their minds back to "Hell no, the stove won't go!" again.
My last salvo in the stove situation was on Thursday, when I sent the store a copy of my SuperPages.com and Better Business Bureau reviews, along with a note quoting Dale Carnegie (one unsatisfied customer = 10 lost sales). But I had sent similar "inspirational" missives to them before--and even had the dear people from the consumer affairs division of the District Attorney's office calling on our behalf--and they were unmoved.
So, when I listened to our voice mail yesterday, and one of the messages was from the store--asking to schedule a time to pick up the stove and drop off a check--I had Linda listen to it, too, for I couldn't quite believe my ears.
Truly, I have no idea if my latest letter did the trick--perhaps they heard from the credit card company, perhaps someone called them to say they heard about our situation and it kept them from shopping at the store.
Who knows?
It doesn't matter. What does matter is that our back porch may soon have a lot more room in it, and our kitchen might soon have a new stove that actually fits in the old stove's spot, not to mention matches the rest of the appliances. Woo!
And what has been a thorn in my side may soon be an accomplishment of no small measure. To me, anyway. (We Midwestern types don't get our assertive on very often, and do so at great peril to our agreeable little psyches.)
Being a rather cynical sort as well as Midwestern down to my marrow, if this does come to a good end...no one will be more surprised than I!
On other fronts, we went to a Don McLean concert last night, a reward courtesy of Big Company (it's a big sponsor of the local symphony, so has season tickets to spare). We went largely because it was free and offered a good excuse to eat at Cafe Lebanon--not because we're big fans of Mr. American Pie. When his band came out--all late middle-aged men in suits, except for the drummer--I was a little worried. And when the drummer--who was dressed like a 20-year-old, but with a full mane of silver hair--had to put on his glasses to read the introductory music, I thought to myself, "Oh goddess, what's this going to be? Lawrence Welk for Boomers?!"
Well, I was mistooken. We had a great time. Don M. is a tremendous performer, even though he is definitely on the wrong side of 50. His voice was perfect, and his lyrics as evocative as any I've heard in ages. And he has the sort of self-deprecating wit that makes his genius less daunting. True, he has a worrisome comb over that suggests a vanity at odds with the wonderful human being he seems to be, but who doesn't have an inconsistency (or several) in this life?
The song about Van Gogh, "Vincent" ("Starry, starry night....") was a highlight, but then, his rendition of "Crying" was a killer, too.
This weekend has been full of surprises, eh? Will keep you posted regarding the stove--it's supposed to happen Wednesday afternoon. We shall see....
Friday, March 30, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Ambrosia....
Almost forgot to mention the ice cream at Jennifer's latest Best Party: D-I-V-I-N-E, to put it mildly.
Herrill's ice cream. Herrill's hot fudge (in a crock pot). Real whipped cream.
Need I say more?
Herrill's ice cream. Herrill's hot fudge (in a crock pot). Real whipped cream.
Need I say more?
Dander. Up. The Sequel.
The quest to spare other appliance purchasers our fate (of having a stove on their back porch since February 15, 2007) continues.
Hold a grudge? Moi?!
As my dear departed mother was fond of saying, "A little bit of Irish goes a long way...."
Anyway, today I submitted a complaint to the local Better Business Bureau (BBB) and an appropriate review to SuperPages.com. The BBB will contact the store (for all the good that will do), but SuperPages will post my review tomorrow. Will link then, if the fates (and technologies) allow. The gist:
by AP from Northampton, MA Mar 29, 2007
Caveat Emptor: No-return policy
We bought a stove at [name] at the suggestion of their salesman--but it was the wrong kind for our kitchen. [The store] refused...
(Full Review) We bought a stove at [name] at the suggestion of their salesman--but it was the wrong kind for our kitchen. [They] refused to take it back, saying it was a "special order." NEWS TO US! To install the stove in our kitchen will require a carpenter and mess--not to mention expense--that is only necessary because [the store] made a mistake and will not make it right. Buy there at your peril! (P.S.: The stove has been sitting on our back porch since 2/15/07.) (Hide)
Hold a grudge? Moi?!
As my dear departed mother was fond of saying, "A little bit of Irish goes a long way...."
Anyway, today I submitted a complaint to the local Better Business Bureau (BBB) and an appropriate review to SuperPages.com. The BBB will contact the store (for all the good that will do), but SuperPages will post my review tomorrow. Will link then, if the fates (and technologies) allow. The gist:
by AP from Northampton, MA Mar 29, 2007
Caveat Emptor: No-return policy
We bought a stove at [name] at the suggestion of their salesman--but it was the wrong kind for our kitchen. [The store] refused...
(Full Review) We bought a stove at [name] at the suggestion of their salesman--but it was the wrong kind for our kitchen. [They] refused to take it back, saying it was a "special order." NEWS TO US! To install the stove in our kitchen will require a carpenter and mess--not to mention expense--that is only necessary because [the store] made a mistake and will not make it right. Buy there at your peril! (P.S.: The stove has been sitting on our back porch since 2/15/07.) (Hide)
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Goddess bless the Comedy Studio
Had a good set at the Studio Thursday night, including a compliment from a very attractive member of the audience (not that I wouldn't be thrilled by a compliment from an unattractive member of the audience, mind you) that made my day. That certainly helped repair some of the damage of the week's events (otherwise known as the Froze My Keister Off for No Good Reason debacle).
Endured some very good-natured ribbing from Rick regarding my failed attempt at fame on Tuesday night. Apparently, such madness is the act of a new comic, so I am (pathetically, perhaps) finding a little solace in the fact that I am "new" at something. (Teetering on the brink of 50, one isn't new at much.) Also enjoyed a chance to catch up with the multi-talented and politically endearing comic/actor/poet Chris O'Carroll, who had just finished a run of "Romeo and Juliet" in Maine.
One of the other comics (who turned out to have some of the creepiest "jokes" I have heard in a long time--but then, I have good reason to not find pedophilia funny) complimented Chris on one of his poems. Intrigued, I rummaged about on our friend the Internet to find some. My favorite is his poem about not wanting his obit to feature anything about his resisting his fate, but I don't want to violate copyright law, so will only post an excerpt from a list of some of his fabulous limericks instead:
Said a therapist from Waxahachie,
“Because every man lacks a snatch, he
Is bound to have issues
About female tissues.
Venus envy -- that sounds pretty catchy.”
What's not to love about that, eh?
On other fronts, while walking the dogs this morning, I saw that a neighbor was accepting delivery of an appliance from the store that sold us the stove that sits on our back porch to this very day. I was upset at first, but then realized said neighbor has a nasty German shepherd who has threatened our dear Linus on more than one occasion, and I thought to myself, "Couldn't happen to a nicer neighbor."
Petty, I know. I'm only human, people--and I am still recovering from the Froze My Keister Off debacle. As I've said many a time, the carcass is very unforgiving at this stage.
Now I must go exercise, so I can eat Herrell's ice cream and hot fudge at Jennifer's Best Party Ever tonight without worry. Woo!
Endured some very good-natured ribbing from Rick regarding my failed attempt at fame on Tuesday night. Apparently, such madness is the act of a new comic, so I am (pathetically, perhaps) finding a little solace in the fact that I am "new" at something. (Teetering on the brink of 50, one isn't new at much.) Also enjoyed a chance to catch up with the multi-talented and politically endearing comic/actor/poet Chris O'Carroll, who had just finished a run of "Romeo and Juliet" in Maine.
One of the other comics (who turned out to have some of the creepiest "jokes" I have heard in a long time--but then, I have good reason to not find pedophilia funny) complimented Chris on one of his poems. Intrigued, I rummaged about on our friend the Internet to find some. My favorite is his poem about not wanting his obit to feature anything about his resisting his fate, but I don't want to violate copyright law, so will only post an excerpt from a list of some of his fabulous limericks instead:
Said a therapist from Waxahachie,
“Because every man lacks a snatch, he
Is bound to have issues
About female tissues.
Venus envy -- that sounds pretty catchy.”
What's not to love about that, eh?
On other fronts, while walking the dogs this morning, I saw that a neighbor was accepting delivery of an appliance from the store that sold us the stove that sits on our back porch to this very day. I was upset at first, but then realized said neighbor has a nasty German shepherd who has threatened our dear Linus on more than one occasion, and I thought to myself, "Couldn't happen to a nicer neighbor."
Petty, I know. I'm only human, people--and I am still recovering from the Froze My Keister Off debacle. As I've said many a time, the carcass is very unforgiving at this stage.
Now I must go exercise, so I can eat Herrell's ice cream and hot fudge at Jennifer's Best Party Ever tonight without worry. Woo!
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Exercise in futility wins!
Well, that was a gigantic waste of time and energy. Stood in line over 13 hours, but didn't get a chance to audition. The rumor going in was that the line would begin forming in earnest around 2:00 a.m. We got there "early" at 1:30 a.m., and saw the line was already snaking around the corner from the entrance.
Apparently, the reality was the line began forming a little before midnight.
As the organizers of the audition offered no concrete information, rumor and speculation (the information vacuum's constant companions) swept through the ranks of comics like The Wave at a football game.
And it was cold. Freezing, in fact. If my boss hadn't lent me a sleeping bag for the occasion, I may be missing a digit or two right now.
"Last Comic Standing" would be more aptly named "First Comic Standing," IMHO, for it was more of an endurance contest a la "Survivor" than a comedy contest.
And the elements were only part of what needed to be survived. There were hoards of young white men in the line--scads, gads and buckets! And those I could hear (or could not help but hear, I should say) seemed to be quite obsessed with not looking/sounding gay.
In Chelsea! (Good luck with that.)
Seriously, there was an advert on the side of a phone booth for a gay dating service, and I (couldn't help but) overhear one herd of young bucks critique the ad: "Why do they have to look like that!? Why does his finger have to be looped in the other guy's belt?! IT JUST LOOKS SO GAY!"
I repeat: In Chelsea!
Rather like obsessing over burkas in a strict Muslim country. Could only imagine these boys saying things like: "Lookit that girl! She's covered up! She's got nice eyes--why does she have to look like that? She's probably a hottie!"
Methinks the days of seeking out exercises in futility are now behind me. Enough creep into my life without my bidding--why go looking for disappointment? (Not to mention situations that guarantee an extra-creaky carcass for the next week!!)
Sigh.
But I'm home. And I took a shower and will soon be going to bed.
Ready for another day--with a show in Cambridge at its end. At last--a chance to perform--and Chris O'Carroll is in the lineup! This could be fun!
Apparently, the reality was the line began forming a little before midnight.
As the organizers of the audition offered no concrete information, rumor and speculation (the information vacuum's constant companions) swept through the ranks of comics like The Wave at a football game.
And it was cold. Freezing, in fact. If my boss hadn't lent me a sleeping bag for the occasion, I may be missing a digit or two right now.
"Last Comic Standing" would be more aptly named "First Comic Standing," IMHO, for it was more of an endurance contest a la "Survivor" than a comedy contest.
And the elements were only part of what needed to be survived. There were hoards of young white men in the line--scads, gads and buckets! And those I could hear (or could not help but hear, I should say) seemed to be quite obsessed with not looking/sounding gay.
In Chelsea! (Good luck with that.)
Seriously, there was an advert on the side of a phone booth for a gay dating service, and I (couldn't help but) overhear one herd of young bucks critique the ad: "Why do they have to look like that!? Why does his finger have to be looped in the other guy's belt?! IT JUST LOOKS SO GAY!"
I repeat: In Chelsea!
Rather like obsessing over burkas in a strict Muslim country. Could only imagine these boys saying things like: "Lookit that girl! She's covered up! She's got nice eyes--why does she have to look like that? She's probably a hottie!"
Methinks the days of seeking out exercises in futility are now behind me. Enough creep into my life without my bidding--why go looking for disappointment? (Not to mention situations that guarantee an extra-creaky carcass for the next week!!)
Sigh.
But I'm home. And I took a shower and will soon be going to bed.
Ready for another day--with a show in Cambridge at its end. At last--a chance to perform--and Chris O'Carroll is in the lineup! This could be fun!
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Wish me luck...or whatever seems appropriate!
Am off to the wilds of New York City for the Ann Podolske Freeze Your Keister Off Tour.
Actually, I'm heading south to stand in line (or "on line," as New Yorkers are fond of putting it) in the wee hours of Wednesday morning for the honor and glory of an audition for "Last Comic Standing." Am supposed to get two minutes to show my stuff, but am realistically going to get more like one (or so I've been told).
Have to say, I'm a little dubious about this enterprise (it's going to be freakin' cold down there--20 degrees with winds up to 30 MPH), but the support I'm getting from folks who know I'm doing this (including my gal Linda) has been tremendous. Enormous, even. I wish I were as enthusiastic about this endeavor as my peeps are, but then, I also wish I could wake up as happy about a new day as my lab mix Shwea, and that's not going to happen any time soon, either.
Part of the problem is fatigue. I'm feeling tired, and I don't know why. Jennifer, coworker and Comedy Buddy extraordinaire, says nerves are the likely culprit. That makes sense--when the going gets rough, I do tend toward the sleepy.
Flight or fight? Nah, I'd rather nap, thank you.
And you know, this may be an exercise of futility the likes of which I haven't seen since I was trying to be a straight girl, but then again, it might not.
So, off to NYC I go. I'll let you know how it goes, not to worry....
Actually, I'm heading south to stand in line (or "on line," as New Yorkers are fond of putting it) in the wee hours of Wednesday morning for the honor and glory of an audition for "Last Comic Standing." Am supposed to get two minutes to show my stuff, but am realistically going to get more like one (or so I've been told).
Have to say, I'm a little dubious about this enterprise (it's going to be freakin' cold down there--20 degrees with winds up to 30 MPH), but the support I'm getting from folks who know I'm doing this (including my gal Linda) has been tremendous. Enormous, even. I wish I were as enthusiastic about this endeavor as my peeps are, but then, I also wish I could wake up as happy about a new day as my lab mix Shwea, and that's not going to happen any time soon, either.
Part of the problem is fatigue. I'm feeling tired, and I don't know why. Jennifer, coworker and Comedy Buddy extraordinaire, says nerves are the likely culprit. That makes sense--when the going gets rough, I do tend toward the sleepy.
Flight or fight? Nah, I'd rather nap, thank you.
And you know, this may be an exercise of futility the likes of which I haven't seen since I was trying to be a straight girl, but then again, it might not.
So, off to NYC I go. I'll let you know how it goes, not to worry....
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