Dander. Up. One more time!

The review has landed on SuperPages. Oh, happy day!

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?

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)

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!

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!

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....

Another customer service triumph!

Okay, I think I've taken the anonymity thing far enough, at least where the manufacturer of our back-porch stove is concerned. Besides, one can only appreciate how ridiculous the following response--from a complaint about a stove entered on the Frigidaire website--is, for they not only got the appliance wrong, they offered advice that falls clearly under the heading of "Unhelpful." "That ship has sailed." "Too late baby." (Or am I missing something here?)

For your able consideration:

"Thank you for contacting Electrolux Major Appliances. Did the salesman know what dimensions you were working with? Unfortunately, we cannot make [local appliance store] take the unit back. Our independent dealers make their own policies and regulations that we have no control over. In the future it would probably be safer to deal with a larger retailer such as the Lowe's store in Springfield, MA. This way, if there is an issue with the product they can exchange it immediately. We apologize for the inconvenience you have experienced."

And do the "Be a Local Hero" people need to be alerted of this "advice"?

In case you're wondering, I responded to this e-mail thanking them for their "help" and the very clear warning that I should never buy a Frigidaire appliance for the rest of my natural life. And perhaps future lives, should reincarnation turn out to be a fact and not a theory....

Door #2

We didn't get any farther with the appliance folks by complaining to the District Attorneys office, but that's not the end of our attempt to get that darned stove off our back porch and back into their showroom, where it belongs.

Today, I sent an e-mail to the stove manufacturer's website, which may or may not result in action, but it just might get their attention. If they know the only dealer of their product in town is ticking people off, they may do something.

Of course, they may not, but it's another step taken toward getting the appliance people to do the right thing.

If I somehow find the time to do this next week, I am also going to try to find the name of the local distributor of said stoves, in the hopes that maybe this person will help make the appliance people see the light of reason.

Or forces them to do the right thing--it doesn't matter how, it just matters that it happens.

Anyway, we know of two families who are not buying appliances there because of this idiocy, so we're making some progress, anyhow....

Winter decides to get busy--in March?!

We're being buried in snow here, more snow per hour than I've seen all winter--maybe since I've lived in Wisconsin, for pity's sake.

Driving home from work was fraught--like a bad video game featuring idiots with 4x4s who thought they were somehow immune to the forces of nature, including ice (the phrase, "Another dumb f*** in a truck" came to mind repeatedly) and poor pathetic peeps trying to get their small, lightweight, and oh-so-inept-in-snow cars to go in a straight line. My favorite sighting of this type--a car with the brand name "Aspire" trying to get up a very slight incline in my neighborhood.

One can "Aspire" all they want, but if you have a car that weights 2-1/2 pounds, you probably should not try to drive in heavy snow. Poor little engine...that couldn't.

Happily--perhaps miraculously--I arrived home safe and sound, but for frazzled nerves. It is very good to have a warm, comfy home any day, but on a day like today, it's a gift of no small proportion. Need to get in some bad TV and then a lot of rest, which it looks like I'll have time for, since even the dedicated team at WW wouldn't have a meeting the day after a blast like this.

Or would they?

On other fronts, it seems the jury is still out on my eyes. May be just that I have a congenital defect in my optic nerve, or may be the beginnings of glaucoma.

Life's just full of choices, ain't it?

And despite a very cordial intervention by the local consumer affairs department, the appliance people are sticking to the premise that if they say "No" enough times, I'll go away happy with the wrong stove.

Silly appliance people!

The carcass is very unforgiving.....

Tomorrow, I get to bring myself in for an eye test with a new eye doc, since my "old" eye doc isn't covered by my "new" insurance provider, which is darned inconvenient (curses on Big Company for dumping my old reliable provider, is all I have to say).

And that's my second eye test in less than a year, thanks to my old eye doc worrying about my eyes looking a little "different" from last time. The word "glaucoma" was touched upon, but ever-so lightly. She just wanted to "make sure" that my peepers were a-okay, is all, and scheduled exams this year that I couldn't follow up on, thanks to the Big Company forcing me to choose a new and (right now, I'd say inferior) carrier.

Anyway, I'm choosing to use my finely-honed (by years of Catholicism and life in the Midwest) skills of denial to remain calm about this, but not allow my skills to keep me from actually following-up and seeing the proper professional. Seeing is rather pleasant, don't you know--as is breathing, something else I go to great pains and expense to be able to do on a regular basis, thanks to being allergic to the planet and most of its denizens.....

Beyond the eye exam, in the late afternoon I bundle up both dogs to go to the special vet, for they are both well into their Golden Years and need all the help they can get.

And my sister-in-law is recovering from having a new hip installed, and my sister awaits word on whether her recent blood clot-related near-death experience was caused by cancer.

For pity's sake!

This aging business? Crazy! The alternative? Not terribly appealing.

Still working out details for next week's silliness--spending the night freezing my keister off on 23rd Street in NYC for two minutes (probably one) of audition time.

I know what you're thinking: Perhaps I should have my head examined instead of my eyes?

Maybe later. We'll see (or so we hope) how it goes....

So-so to SPECTACULAR!

Friday night's show at The Studio is the sort that makes me regret my promise to report on every show in this blog (to the two people who read it, besides me 8-). Not that it was a debacle, no--it was just one of those nights where the audience just wasn't with the comics, you know?

Let's just say that when the master of ceremonies asks the audience, "You folks know this is a comedy show, right?", you know you're in for tough sledding.

And that it was. Sigh. Gave me a lot to think about on my solo drive home from Cambridge, but I try not to despair over one tough show. A long line of tough shows--yes, that would give me pause--but one after a couple of keepers? Nope, not going to sweat it.

However, I am wondering whether I can find myself in front of more GLBT/liberal audiences somehow, instead of doing the equivalent of pulling comic teeth from the straight and narrow (yes, even in Cambridge) set. And it wasn't even the audience who seemed to have trouble accepting the fact of folks like me--a couple of the comics seemed very pleased with themselves, and felt they had found rich comic gold in those wacky faggots/dykes.

I know, I know--can't help but get my back up when straight people opine on the queer set, for I don't think it's their row to hoe. But really, straight comics do find the GLBT set a source of amusement, so I have to toughen up.

Or keep the heck away from straight venues. Which means I'll work even less than I do now. Horrors.

Linda thinks I should trim back the anti-homophobe stuff and do more "mainstream" material. Dredge up some old non-gay stuff I used to do, and save the political material for friendly audiences.

She may have a point, especially as I am contemplating the humiliation that is trying out for "Last Comic Standing." Don't think they have a spot for a political lesbian on the show--they had a couple (or at least one) lesbian(s) on last season, but they never mentioned their sexuality. Rather the comic equivalent of Liberace.

Oh well. So yes, we are pondering our comic future here, and wondering what makes sense.

As for the SPECTACULAR part of my title, I cannot say enough about the unbearable sweetness that was watching the latest documentary on the Young at Heart Chorus. Linda and I went to a benefit screening of it last night, and we were just overcome.

Watching the Chorus always makes me laugh and cry, and the documentary is no exception. If you have the chance, GO SEE IT!

What a world....

Of all of the Republican candidates for president, only the Mormon has one wife to his, er, credit?

And of course, Newt went after Bill while he was having an affair as well, but no hypocrisy occurred.

Right!

Time to engage the professionals....

My apologies. My last few posts on the matter of the useless stove sitting on our back porch are not my idea of fun--and not yours either, I'm sure. Methinks I have found a way to not have to write about this debacle for a little while, at least.

After yesterday's phone conversation with one of the owners of the store that sold us said stove, it seems clear that what the customer wants doesn't amount to a hill of beans to this guy. The stove may have been recommended to us by their salesman and doesn't fit in our kitchen, but they're not taking it back. His latest offer involves installing the stove that doesn't fit into our kitchen himself--with us paying for the privilege. And what if he does as good a job at that as he has with the rest of this debacle?

I don't want to think about it.

So, he won't take the stove back, and we sure as heck don't want him hammering and sawing away at our kitchen, so what's next? Are we stuck with the stove, end of story?

Perhaps. But then again....

This morning, realizing I've gone about as far as I can go with this misadventure in buying local for now, I called the local consumer protection line. Surprise, surprise--I was soon talking to a person who made no promises, but who gave me hope that perhaps she would be able to reason with the store.

I wish her luck with that, I really do.

At the very least, once I've submitted my complaint and she's made her attempt, if the store doesn't come through, the complaint will be on record with the Attorney General in Boston for a number of years. I'll also file a complaint with the Better Business Bureau and any other consumer-esque outfit in the area I can find.

Perhaps, at the very least, we'll protect some other family from the indignities of doing business with these people.

But perhaps more will come of it as well. Stay tuned....

On other fronts, I have a spot on the roster at the famous Comedy Studio tomorrow night, and promise not to say a whit about major appliances. If you somehow find yourself in Cambridge without a thing to do, take yourself over to the Hong Kong Restaurant, climb the many stairs to the third floor, and enjoy yourself some of the finest comedy around.

Lastly, my friend and comedy buddy Jennifer Myszkowski was also supposed to be on the Comedy Studio stage tomorrow night, but she has fallen ill with either whooping cough or bronchitis. Yikes! Either way, she's in no shape do The Comedy, no matter how fabulous the venue may be. Here's hoping she's all better soon!

Well, what do you know?

One of the perks of working for Big Company(TM) is that we can give blood right in the building--every eight weeks or so, the Red Cross sets up shop downstairs in a couple of conference rooms. While it's jarring answering questions such as, "Have you ever had sex with a man who used intravenous drugs or had sex with other men?" at work, it's a convenience.

It's also been a source of rejection, however, for the last three times I tried to give blood, I was told I didn't have enough of the right kind of red blood cells for the job. Sent back to my cubicle with a pricked finger and nothing to show for it.

Well, today was another story. I passed the red blood cell test with flying colors, and was able to give blood for the first time in months. The person registering me thought it might be the diet--excuse me, lifestyle change--I've been engaged in for the past nine weeks, thanks to WW. "You're eating better."

Really? It wasn't like I was eating sweet rolls and pie filling for breakfast, lunch and dinner before WW and its "lifestyle" food approach.

But then, the proof is in the blood test.

That's cool--I've lost over 15 pounds and I can give blood again. Not bad, not bad at all.

On the appliance front, the manager now wants to install our stove himself--with us paying for the supplies.

Considering the integrity of his business practices, does he seriously think we'd trust the integrity of his carpentry skills?

I mean, REALLY!

Just got off the phone with him, and I gotta tell you--if I tried to give blood right now, I would be refused. Not for my red blood cell count, but for my blood pressure.

ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGH!

A Tale of Two Cities....

Last night's show in Westfield was a successful, if relatively subdued affair, particularly in comparison to last week's Girls! Girls! Girls! blowout in Easthampton.

Of course, I didn't have any expectations of a repeat--I have performed in Westfield before, and know the lesbian and liberal population there is marginal, to put it mildly--but the show was a good reminder that a comic's material is only a fraction of The Comedy. The audience plays a tremendous part--the most important part, certainly.

And in Westfield, the likes of me can do okay, but not tremendously. Whereas in Easthampton with a room full of lezzies and liberals, I can have the time of my life. Peak experiences can also be had in a room full of just the GLBT set (as in Provincetown) and in a room full of just liberals (as I learned thanks to Laughing Liberally).

Not to say one can't do tremendously in Westfield: Jennifer and Linda did great, and were both a lot of fun to watch. Jennifer had her feisty on, which always makes for great comedy. Linda's married-with-children business was pitch perfect for this crowd--they loved it! While New Englanders can be a fairly restrained bunch, this crowd was losing their marbles all over the place, thanks to them.

Am glad the show turned out well, for a lot of people from Big Company (TM) and a dear couple of dykes I've known for years showed up, and from all reports, they had a great time. Well, except for the couple--one of the gals had an asthma attack, likely due to the ridiculous fragrance-to-humanity ratio in that crowd. (What is it with humans and their need to radiate smells other than their own?)

Anyway, it was a good show but not a great show, and that's okay.

On other fronts, yesterday I learned that a great gal I've run into around town and dog trails for years, Victoria White, died of breast cancer just a couple of days ago. She and I weren't friends per se, but we've chatted amiably on and off over the years, for we both had a devotion to dogs, being out dykesauruses, and to humor. I loved talking to her, for she had a sharp intellect that made for great conversation--and laughs. She was also one of the ranks of lesbian business owners who supported the short-lived Amazonian, and even offered to give me work in her dog business when I was marginally employed over a year ago. What a sweetie. Generous. Nutty about dogs. Smart as can be. And just 51.

What a loss.

Dander. Up.

Dear Sirs [SADLY, THIS IS THE CASE]:

On January 27, 2007, at the confident recommendation of your salesman [NAME], we purchased a new drop-in range from [STORE NAME]. Though we inquired as to whether the salesman should send someone to our home to ensure we were getting the right model, [NAME] told us that a drop-in was the way to go.

As you know, that wasn’t the case. In fact, you had three people in our home to install the stove, and they were unable to do so. The obvious response was to replace the wrong stove with one that would fit our kitchen, but you refused to do that. You told me our stove was “special ordered,” so could not be returned.

This was news to us: Neither [NAME] nor our receipt (see attached) made any mention of this “no returns” policy for this $1,037.45 purchase. To “remedy” the situation, you told us to get a carpenter to get an estimate of the cost to build a cabinet to fit our new stove. We did that, and were told it would cost between $450-$500.

A little under half the cost of the appliance.

We are not going to pay a premium for your mistake, and insist that you do the right thing: Take back the stove and issue us a full refund, so we can purchase a stove we can actually use. We have made an effort to support local business, and have done so successfully—until we went to [STORE NAME]. In your case, we have been rewarded with poor service, buck-passing and no stove since late January. This is made even more galling by the fact that if we had purchased a stove that didn’t fit from a national chain, we would have been able to return it without question.

Your response to this situation is unacceptable, and we believe others would agree.

This letter is notice of your last opportunity to do the right thing. Contact us at [PHONE] by [DEADLINE] to schedule the pickup of your stove. If you do not, we will explore whatever remedies are available to us, starting with the Better Business Bureau and Attorney General’s office and ending with whatever we can legally do to protect other local consumers from your way of doing business.

We hope to hear from you soon,

Ann and Linda
[AKA TICKED-OFF HOMOS]