Another thought on the "Faggot!" business

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

Get it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Am glad the weekend is nigh...

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

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

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

Sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goddess, I love this town....

Free Spirits? Seemed a bit shackled...

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

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

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

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

What a shame.

"Let's do the time warp again!"

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

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

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

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

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

In a word: Yikes!

Erin Judge presents...

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

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

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

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

Thank goddess she's not around any more!

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

(No need to answer that.)

A long drive that paid off....

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

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

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

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

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

Here's hoping.....

Laughing Liberally Lab: Lessons Learned

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Comedy, comedy, and more comedy!!!

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

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

We shall see....

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

Back from the land of my foremothers and fathers

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

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

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

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

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

But it beats lung cancer, this I know.

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

The cheesesteak barometer

Last night's show? A stinker. The audience? Me? I don't really care.

How much do I not care? I didn't crave ice cream after the show.

That's apathy of an unprecedented sort, but I'm not worried. It will pass.

Actually, after about a week, I'm guessing. I am on vacation, and though I didn't really plan this, having the week off after the exhausting enterprise that was Take Our Daughters and Sons to Work Day is a gift.

Realized a vacation was a really good idea when I found myself getting testy at the cafeteria this afternoon. Over a cheesesteak. I'm really rarely one to fuss, but today I was G**damned if I was going to let the lady behind me in line get a cheesesteak when I had been in line longer.

I felt like crap most of the afternoon over this episode, even though that cheesesteak was rightfully mine. (Recovering Catholic is a misnomer--we never recover.)

However, when one finds oneself in high dudgeon over a cheesesteak, it is time to take a step back and say, "What's going on here?"

I know, not to worry. I'm exhausted and my nerves are shot. A dear friend from the old days used to point at his wrist when highly irritated and say, "See this? This is my last nerve, and you're stepping on it!" Well, my last nerve was shot about 18 hours ago, so this vacation is happening at an opportune time.

Wish it could have happened before The Cheesesteak Incident, but that's my life in a nutshell. (In sum: This gal must do something really embarrassing before she GETS IT.)

Today was not all shot nerves and embarrassment. Received some nice kudos re the aforementioned nightmare of a project, and had a nice chair massage after lunch. (Yes, one can get a chair massage in the building I work in--Corporate America ain't all bad.) I haven't indulged myself in such fashion in ages, and it felt great--I was loose as a goose after that, and think I may have to find a way to work a chair massage into my regular rotation.

But now, now I need to go to sleep. This day has been more than enough.

It's official!

My name may be misspelled, but it's up on the Laughing Liberally website lineup for May 10 @ 9:30.

Believe it!

I am very happy of the prospect of performing in a friendly space--more friendly than an Elks Club in Glastonbury, at the very least!

(Though, come to think of it, they warmed up after a while.....)

That's today's big news, for the rest is all kvetch and consternation.

I am sooooo over the joy that is Take Your Daughters and Sons to Work Day, you have no idea. (Unless, of course, you've been in my orbit in the past four weeks--then you have all too much of an idea, and I apologize.)

It will all be over soon--less than 48 hours from now, the concerns of the parents among me will no longer be my business, and I am almost blissful at the prospect.

Lessons learned.....

Had a great time at the Girls!Girls!Girls! (and a guy) comedy show last night, and wish I could have stayed around to congratulate the comics. Alas, our recovering pooch Linus was making odd coughing sounds when we left for the show, so we hurried home as soon as Jennifer closed her set--and what a great set it was! (Podiatry and childlessness = hilarity--who'd a thunk?)

Linus was fine, of course.

During yesterday's comedy confab, Jennifer and I discussed the fact that people have told her that both being in a relationship and having a baby are crucial to a full, rich life, for they help one learn so much about oneself. While I'll leave Jennifer's reactions to those assertions to her comedic genius (and she's already crafted a winner from the baby side of this equation), they led me to think that 13 years into my long-term relationship, I have learned things about myself I could have lived without knowing, truth be told.

For one thing, being in a relationship has taught me what a petty, hyper-sensitive grudge-muffin I can become.

That's almost as encouraging as what I learned from my colonoscopy last year--that my colon is fine, but it's twisted. For this, I had to have a camera pushed up my bucket?

Harrumph!

I'm sure there are many more lessons than these in my past and future, and I will strive to report on them for your viewing pleasure.

But for now, I must get back to my laundry and balancing my checking account--to paraphrase the Carpenters, "Rainy days and Sundays always get me down...."

The upside of reduced expectations

Went into last night's show prepared for a chilly reception--anytime someone tells me the crowd is "blue collar," tough sledding can be ahead. For in my experience, the blue collar set can be fabulous--if anyone should have sympathy for the struggles of someone, a blue collar person should--but if heavy on the guys, they can also be unreceptive to anything that is outside their norms. And if anything is outside their norms in rural NE, it's a Midwestern, recovering-alcoholic lesbian that talks about her fellow homos on a regular basis.

And when that said lesbian equates tailgating with homosexual activity--well, that hits a discomfort zone, apparently. (If I had a $1 for every time that joke caused straight men to cross their arms over their chests, I would have enough for a night on the town.)

Be that as it may, I had a great show--the tailgating joke caused an uproar of a great kind. Happily, no matter what collar they wore during the day, these folks were there for the laughs, and laugh they did.

Made me happy to be a comic, and look forward to my next show. (My next show is Thursday night in Cambridge at The Comedy Studio, in case you're wondering.)

But for now, I must dash to town--it's time for a comedy confab with my friend Jennifer, who is having a wonderful show tonight at PACE (we plan to be in the audience--you should, too!).

Sheer madness...

Today was a crazy, hectic day, and I only found myself whimpering once. The project I have been charged with is the corporate equivalent of being nibbled to death by ducks, without the death part.

Just nibbled.

The ducks? Yes, they exist in human form, and while I like ducks with webbed feet, I'm not terribly fond of the ones with toes.

The good news is that there is an end in sight to this task--next Thursday, in fact.

And the day after that? Friday.

And the week after that? Vacation.

I am a lucky, luck gal....as long as I survive this week and the next, that is.

On other fronts, my comedy buddy Jennifer is throwing a great girls comedy night this Saturday at PACE in Easthampton--you should go!

Better, better, better!

Jaded? If the sensible shoe fits....

While I am rested at last (after a bizarre six-hour nap that seized me Saturday afternoon), I could still use a bit more weekend. There are still about 17 things on my To-Do list, which means that I got a little ambitious.

Ambition, that's something I try to avoid--it's the path to heartache and frustration, this I know.

Watched the GLAAD awards on the GLBT Logo channel with some friends last night , and I'm afraid we're all past the "We Are Family" stage of existence. We had little patience for the endless speeches about our rights and how normal we are and how our day will come and all that assorted happy horse hockey. (Although I could watch Charlize Theron talk about us for the rest of my natural life. Sorry.)

Of course, I still believe these basic truths ("The Earth only spins forward" and so on), don't get me wrong, but these bon mots have been in circulation a while now, and they just don't stir me as they used to--oh dear, You're not getting older, you're getting bitter.

Of course, if I were not a former drag queen aficionado (am looking for substitutes for the dreaded "Fag Hag," excuse me) I would not know this phrase, so membership in the GLBT club has its perks, certainly. Many, many perks.

However, there is a downside or two. Lesbian film, for one. We bought a DVD with a collection of 10 short lesbian films, and all but two raised the question, "And your point is, exactly?" Most of the screenwriters appeared to suffer from what I am calling the "Claire of the Moon" syndrome; i.e., if it happened to me, it's fascinating.

It's a problem I suffered with when trying to become a fiction writer, so I am not without sympathy for anyone struggling under the weight of their own dramatic (to me/myself/I) past. And some people can write of the specifics of their lives in a way that touches the universal, making their stories resonate in a way that makes the specific, even if it bares no resemblance to one's own life, touching in its familiarity. Eudora Welty springs to mind; there are many, many others.

However, sometimes the specific is specific in such a way it just makes one go "Huh? What was that about?" It doesn't make that crucial connection to the shared consciousness.

That's was the problem with "Claire of the Moon," and is the problem with "The L Word" Jenny storyline, and also is the problem with 8 of the 10 short films in the collection we bought.

The second downside to being a member of the GLBT club? Lesbian music. Now, I like Sleater Kinney and other lesbian-heavy rock bands just fine, but I'm talking about the earnest, heartfelt acoustic guitar hooey that just makes a gay gal want to run screaming from the building. Even though the band is led by a gay man, Erasure did a pretty good imitation of this sort of lesbian music during the awards ceremony last night, and we were all cringing.

But compared to the pain and humiliation I endured attempting to be a straight girl, these are minor quibbles indeed. I'm with Melissa Etheridge on this one: I'm grateful I get to live this life as a lesbian (and just hope it doesn't mean I have to come back as a Koran- or Bible-thumping someone or another).

Here's hoping....

Getting better all the time....

Ms. Malaprop strikes again

I was preparing supper and noticed that Oatmeal somehow wedged his carcass into the box that holds Linus' special (post-surgery) dog food.

Bemused at the latest idiocy from our local feline representative, I said, "What in the world will that silly cat do next?"

"Don't thank a gift horse in the house," Linda replied.

Yes, I am in communications. My partner, on the other hand....

A little dread never hurt anyone....

Sent off a DVD of a recent show at The Comedy Studio to an elderly aunt out in Nebraska, and have been worried about what she might think of it ever since.

Yes, yes, I know--internalized homophobia plays a part, but so does fear of what she learned at her mother's knee about alcoholics and alcoholism. Grandmother was co-chair of the local Christian Temperance Union, which means she had a "willpower" view of alcohol addiction (if drunks just had a little more self-control, they would be able to quit drinking themselves into a stupor).

Yeah, well, it was the times and all--the alcoholism as disease concept had not been embraced as of yet in Grandma's day. Geez, I hope it was the times, anyway, and not her cover for anti-immigrant sentiment (as was often the case with the CTU set). That is not the sort of thing one wants in one's ancestors, you know?

But she was a Republican, too, so anything is possible.

Well, the DVD is out there, so I just have to hope that maybe Aunt Babe will actually enjoy it--you never know!

On other fronts, I am really intrigued with the furor immigration "reform" is stirring up--all these puddin'head "assimilated Americans" want to slam shut the door that was held open for them a generation or three ago. Okay, maybe the door wasn't always held open, exactly, but they weren't charged with a felony for trying to make a better life for themselves. What kind of Nativist nonsense is that?!

Of course, I must admit, it's a little bit of a relief to see some other scapegoat appear on the Regressive Right's Radar--they have been beating the homo horse to death lately, and a little anti-immigrant hubbub gives us "assimilated American" dykes and fags a little breathing room.

Who am I kidding? I don't like immigrant-bashing any better than homo-bashing, and besides, there hasn't really been a letup on either front.

Those damn bigots have always been superb multi-taskers!

Our boy is back!

We brought our dear boy Linus home Thursday afternoon, and we're all relieved and grateful to have him back--all except Shwea and Oatmeal, that is (they enjoyed having the place to themselves, the little so-n-so's).

Linus was very drugged up when we brought him home, but restless--as though he didn't trust that he could relax here. Yesterday, he began to sleep in earnest, and today he's begun begging for food and was really disappointed when he couldn't go on a proper walk with Linda and Shwea this morning. (We have to restrict his movements until his stitches get out in 10 days or so.)

In other words, he's really getting better--oh, happy days!

And may I say, Linda has been a trooper through all of this. She not only was the one who saved his carcass to begin with, but she has also taken large chunks of time off from work to tend to our boy, and for that I will always be grateful.

And this morning, she saw how disappointed Linus was, so she bent down and showed him the part of the vet's instructions that said he couldn't take walks--it might not have meant a thing to Linus, but it charmed me tremendously.

What a sweetie!

On other fronts, I have a ton o' bills to get through, so close I must. And I should be keeping a close eye on Linus--we're supposed to keep him from licking his nether regions, which is rather like keeping a bunny from hopping. (Such is the nature of doctor's orders, eh?)

Lest I forget, the open mic on Thursday was just okay--the audience had mood swings all night, but they did seem to like some of my new material (especially on my twisted childhood--am almost grateful to note that all of that angst and insanity isn't going to waste!). The audience was a little less charitable to some of the other comics, though, and that I hate to see. Lighten up, folks--it's ENTERTAINMENT!!!

And I am working on getting on the Laughing Liberally stage in May--May 10, to be precise. NYC, here I come! (Or so I hope--will keep you posted.)