Was looking up a Latin phrase on Wikipedia, and came across the following:
Cave ab homine unius libri
Translation: "Beware the man of one book."
Don't know why, but that tickles me to bits.....
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
How did it go?
The Girls! Girls! Girls! show Saturday night was a Success! Success! Success!, if an occasionally fraught one. A number of people from my place of employment stopped by (bless their hearts), and as some of my material is what one could call personal, and some of it is also less than complimentary toward the Corporate Sector, I had a moment or two of The Nerves.
Not that it stopped me, but I'm just saying, I had the phrase "What the heck are you doing?!!" pop into my head once or twice. I overrode it, as is my custom. (When you're Midwestern-born and trying to do The Comedy, you become very good at the "override" business.)
All went well, though--and who knew Nikki Carr could sing like that?! A fabulous comic with pipes, she is. The rest of the "Girls!"--Jennifer Myszkowski, Eve Olitski, Linda Morgan, Kim "Boney" DeShields, and yours truly--were "on" that night, too, which is a marvelous thing.
If you weren't there, you missed something. Let that be a lesson to you!
On other fronts, my dear Linda commented that Nikki killed in part because she always has different/new material. Well, that got my knickers in a knot, so that means there is likely more than a little truth in that statement (of course, Nikki also had really good new/different material, difference alone does not a successful set make). However, I think my knickers got knotted because I wish I had new/different material, too, but it has not been forthcoming.
It's a source of worry, for I used to be writing things down all the time--now, if I have a comic thought, it's often gone before I get to write it down. Sigh.
Methinks it's the grief over the state and fate of our dear Linus. Grief and The Comedy do not mix, do they? I find I have a little rock of ready-to-cry in my heart a lot of the time, and I think that rock may be impeding my sense of the absurd a bit.
Of course, this could all be a rationalization, and as a gal who was raised Catholic in the Midwest, rationalizationsRMe.....
We shall see, eh?
Not that it stopped me, but I'm just saying, I had the phrase "What the heck are you doing?!!" pop into my head once or twice. I overrode it, as is my custom. (When you're Midwestern-born and trying to do The Comedy, you become very good at the "override" business.)
All went well, though--and who knew Nikki Carr could sing like that?! A fabulous comic with pipes, she is. The rest of the "Girls!"--Jennifer Myszkowski, Eve Olitski, Linda Morgan, Kim "Boney" DeShields, and yours truly--were "on" that night, too, which is a marvelous thing.
If you weren't there, you missed something. Let that be a lesson to you!
On other fronts, my dear Linda commented that Nikki killed in part because she always has different/new material. Well, that got my knickers in a knot, so that means there is likely more than a little truth in that statement (of course, Nikki also had really good new/different material, difference alone does not a successful set make). However, I think my knickers got knotted because I wish I had new/different material, too, but it has not been forthcoming.
It's a source of worry, for I used to be writing things down all the time--now, if I have a comic thought, it's often gone before I get to write it down. Sigh.
Methinks it's the grief over the state and fate of our dear Linus. Grief and The Comedy do not mix, do they? I find I have a little rock of ready-to-cry in my heart a lot of the time, and I think that rock may be impeding my sense of the absurd a bit.
Of course, this could all be a rationalization, and as a gal who was raised Catholic in the Midwest, rationalizationsRMe.....
We shall see, eh?
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Comic anniversary
This coming Saturday, September 15, it will have been four years since I began my comedy career (loosely defined). According to my calendar, that was the first day of the standup comedy course at the venerable Greenfield Community College that I took on a whim.
What a whim!
Four years later, I am still standing up and largely succeeding at making the people laugh, though I must confess the bloom has been off the comedy rose of late--though this is due more to my ailing dog more than the state of my relationship with The Comedy. (We're still quite fond of one another, it's just other things--i.e., Linus--are more important right now.)
That's not to say I'm not still performing--tonight Jennifer and I will be at The Comedy Studio, and on my comedy anniversary next Saturday, I'll be participating in another installment of the fabulous Girls! Girls! Girls! franchise at PACE.
Hope to see you there--or somewhere--soon....
What a whim!
Four years later, I am still standing up and largely succeeding at making the people laugh, though I must confess the bloom has been off the comedy rose of late--though this is due more to my ailing dog more than the state of my relationship with The Comedy. (We're still quite fond of one another, it's just other things--i.e., Linus--are more important right now.)
That's not to say I'm not still performing--tonight Jennifer and I will be at The Comedy Studio, and on my comedy anniversary next Saturday, I'll be participating in another installment of the fabulous Girls! Girls! Girls! franchise at PACE.
Hope to see you there--or somewhere--soon....
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Jumpin' Jack Flash my keister!
Oh my goddess, I thought I was going to buy the farm last night. My stomach felt as though it was going to explode--I had terrible, painful cramps and could barely stand up straight. Turns out I simply had a really bad case of The Gas.
All I needed was a little simethecone (SP?) and sleep.
What amazes me is that I never felt this bad from eating anything, except that time in the mid-1980s when my brother asked me to try a local (to NE Wisc.) delicacy, fried lake perch. So, I took a little on a fork with a dab of tartar sauce, and it almost killed me.
Turns out I'm really, really allergic to lake perch, and had such a violent reaction to a little forkful of fish I haven't been able to contemplate fish as a food since.
Yes, since the mid-1980s. (What have I missed? Mercury poisoning, that's what.)
Anyway, I'm still puzzling over what it was that gave me The Gas That Almost Killed Me, but am drawing blanks. I had the same vegetables and ground beef for supper that Linda did, and she was fine. We had the same WW ice cream treats for dessert. The only thing I had that she didn't was one of those "Honest" teas--Moroccan Mint green tea with a hint of sugar.
But I've had that in the past and lived--good grief, I used to drink real Moroccan mint tea with scoops of sugar by the gallon when I lived there 20 years ago--so what, exactly, was the culprit?
We may never know....
So, besides this brush with death by internal combustion, what else is new? Linda and I have been on a TV strike this week, and it appears to be agreeing with us. I do find myself actually missing the company the Tube provides when I work at home and have my lunch in relative silence (but for my Shwea licking her chops in anticipation of what may fall off my plate), but otherwise, I haven't missed much. Okay, except for the premiere of "Weeds" this Monday night. I do adore Mary Louise Parker, yes I do....
Otherwise, I was turned down by the Red Cross again for having a slightly low iron count. I guess that makes three times I've been turned back by these folks this year, so perhaps I need to ask my doctor about it. Am seeing him next week for my finger that has started to lock on me--yes, aging is a bizarre bit of business--so perhaps I can sneak this into my five-minute appointment.
Lastly, I have a new picture of yours truly at her high school reunion, which raises the question, "Ann Podolske, when did you become the Amazon of your class?"
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Balderdash benchmarks
I was telling a coworker about my first job out of college today, for it prepared me beautifully for a career in communications. I mean, after you have edited engineers--nuclear engineers, no less--editing everyone else is a piece o' cake. For engineers, in my experience, love words for their length, and the more syllables, the merrier.
For one very mild and perhaps not terrible illustrative example (but it's the only one I can remember), the word "interface" began to take off from its technical moorings while I was in this job (it was the early '80s). Before I even knew what was happening, engineers all over the company were writing of the need to interface with potential clients, when a simple meeting would do.
A small erosion of the language I attempted to stem, but the engineers wouldn't have it. They felt that interfacing was far more powerful than meeting, and besides--I didn't have a Ph.D., so who the hell was I to offer suggestions on their sterling prose?
(If I had a Ph.D., would I have been trying to make a living making engineers intelligible to mere mortals? But I digress....)
Anyway, when I was telling this coworker today about this experience (via e-mail, for I worked from home today), I found myself telling her that the engineers set balderdash benchmarks that few people have been able to beat. I find myself smitten with the phrase, but I think it has potential.
Balderdash benchmarks, anyone?
On the BB front, I'm thinking of something that my coworker and Comedy Buddy Jennifer told me about, a communication that appeared while I was on vacation (it was lovely, thanks). I am not sure I remember this correctly, but I think the offending phrase was something along the lines of, "We need to leverage our synergies."
Good golly, Miss Molly. Isn't that something?
Elsewise, I enjoyed the YouTube-enlivened debate last night, even if the balderdash quotient was still painfully high. Nothing very surprising was uttered by the field, but I must admit I was surprised to find myself in agreement with Joe Biden last night. Once, but it was powerful.
When he voiced concern about the man who referred to his automatic rifle as his baby.
That guy freaked me out, too, but Biden was the only one who picked up on the nut-job tenor of his video.
Oh well, that's all I have time for now.....
For one very mild and perhaps not terrible illustrative example (but it's the only one I can remember), the word "interface" began to take off from its technical moorings while I was in this job (it was the early '80s). Before I even knew what was happening, engineers all over the company were writing of the need to interface with potential clients, when a simple meeting would do.
A small erosion of the language I attempted to stem, but the engineers wouldn't have it. They felt that interfacing was far more powerful than meeting, and besides--I didn't have a Ph.D., so who the hell was I to offer suggestions on their sterling prose?
(If I had a Ph.D., would I have been trying to make a living making engineers intelligible to mere mortals? But I digress....)
Anyway, when I was telling this coworker today about this experience (via e-mail, for I worked from home today), I found myself telling her that the engineers set balderdash benchmarks that few people have been able to beat. I find myself smitten with the phrase, but I think it has potential.
Balderdash benchmarks, anyone?
On the BB front, I'm thinking of something that my coworker and Comedy Buddy Jennifer told me about, a communication that appeared while I was on vacation (it was lovely, thanks). I am not sure I remember this correctly, but I think the offending phrase was something along the lines of, "We need to leverage our synergies."
Good golly, Miss Molly. Isn't that something?
Elsewise, I enjoyed the YouTube-enlivened debate last night, even if the balderdash quotient was still painfully high. Nothing very surprising was uttered by the field, but I must admit I was surprised to find myself in agreement with Joe Biden last night. Once, but it was powerful.
When he voiced concern about the man who referred to his automatic rifle as his baby.
That guy freaked me out, too, but Biden was the only one who picked up on the nut-job tenor of his video.
Oh well, that's all I have time for now.....
Saturday, June 30, 2007
V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N
It seems almost necessary that there be a great deal of fuss, bother and stress before a vacation. Though, come to think, I didn't have much of any of that before my Wisconsin trip last month. (That won't be stressful until the bill comes. Ouch!)
This holiday, however, was no exception. I had two major projects to get in before I could leave work with a clear conscience yesterday, and I was making great progress until right in the middle of the day we had a blackout. Just as I was putting some finishing touches on a document, all of Big Company went dark. (The word blackout now has real meaning for me, as I sit in an internal area of the Big House without windows. If my pal Jennifer hadn't been working on a laptop, I would not have seen a thing.)
Big Company does have backup generators, but they took their sweet time firing up. When they did go on, we headed out of the building ASAP. Who wants to sit in the dim? Not I!
We sat around outside, wondering what was happening, when some of the more senior (some by rank, some by age) members of my area decided to drive off to have lunch, and asked if we wanted to join them. I went along, and am I ever glad I did.
When we got in the car and started driving off to the nearest Panera, I had a feeling much like I did those rare times I snuck away from boring high school events in the mid-70s to go do something delinquent, like smoke a cigarette or ride around town trying to find someone who would buy us beer. But yesterday, even though I was riding in a car with a woman at least 10 years my senior wearing career separates (and I was wearing my lesbian-friendly equivalent), I felt about 16, and thought for a moment or two we should both have cigarettes hanging out of our mouths, and maybe even a beer or two in the cup holders of her Buick.
High school flashback in Big Company's parking lot. What a hoot!
Anyway, once we got back from lunch the power was back on, so I finished up what I absolutely had to do, and now have two glorious weeks of freedom ahead of me and my gal. We are looking forward to doing--well, not much. Have already had my first nap of the holiday, and it was a good 'un. Linda is working on hers now, bless her heart. We were going to head out to the cottage, but the weather report is on the discouraging side, so we may just hang at home and do things we've been meaning to do around here, like go to the morning movie and have a leisurely look at the art museum at Smith (we've only been able to get there after work for a frenzied pre-close tour).
Tonight, we have dinner with friends, and that's about all. We're finally meeting the new member of their family, a Jack Russel terrier named Pluto. (Our friends seem to be adding family members here and there, and I can't help but add that I understand adding a terrier far more than I understand adding a baby. But that's just maternally-challenged me.)
Lest I forget, the show Thursday night at the branch of the wedding industrial complex (not original with me, but I can't remember which of Jennifer's friends coined this phrase) called The Colonnade was good. There was an odd, dead silence at a line that usually gets laughs, which I still can't figure, and they didn't seem to like my "rear awakening" story much, either.
Jennifer is of the opinion that when I had more ballast back there, this joke worked. Now that I don't have much of a Back 40, it isn't that funny.
Harrumph. It's one thing to diet oneself out of one's wardrobe. But to diet oneself out of one's sure-fire jokes?
So, getting healthy is bad for one's comedy?
Sheesh! News flash: Life is not fair, people. Life is not fair.
This holiday, however, was no exception. I had two major projects to get in before I could leave work with a clear conscience yesterday, and I was making great progress until right in the middle of the day we had a blackout. Just as I was putting some finishing touches on a document, all of Big Company went dark. (The word blackout now has real meaning for me, as I sit in an internal area of the Big House without windows. If my pal Jennifer hadn't been working on a laptop, I would not have seen a thing.)
Big Company does have backup generators, but they took their sweet time firing up. When they did go on, we headed out of the building ASAP. Who wants to sit in the dim? Not I!
We sat around outside, wondering what was happening, when some of the more senior (some by rank, some by age) members of my area decided to drive off to have lunch, and asked if we wanted to join them. I went along, and am I ever glad I did.
When we got in the car and started driving off to the nearest Panera, I had a feeling much like I did those rare times I snuck away from boring high school events in the mid-70s to go do something delinquent, like smoke a cigarette or ride around town trying to find someone who would buy us beer. But yesterday, even though I was riding in a car with a woman at least 10 years my senior wearing career separates (and I was wearing my lesbian-friendly equivalent), I felt about 16, and thought for a moment or two we should both have cigarettes hanging out of our mouths, and maybe even a beer or two in the cup holders of her Buick.
High school flashback in Big Company's parking lot. What a hoot!
Anyway, once we got back from lunch the power was back on, so I finished up what I absolutely had to do, and now have two glorious weeks of freedom ahead of me and my gal. We are looking forward to doing--well, not much. Have already had my first nap of the holiday, and it was a good 'un. Linda is working on hers now, bless her heart. We were going to head out to the cottage, but the weather report is on the discouraging side, so we may just hang at home and do things we've been meaning to do around here, like go to the morning movie and have a leisurely look at the art museum at Smith (we've only been able to get there after work for a frenzied pre-close tour).
Tonight, we have dinner with friends, and that's about all. We're finally meeting the new member of their family, a Jack Russel terrier named Pluto. (Our friends seem to be adding family members here and there, and I can't help but add that I understand adding a terrier far more than I understand adding a baby. But that's just maternally-challenged me.)
Lest I forget, the show Thursday night at the branch of the wedding industrial complex (not original with me, but I can't remember which of Jennifer's friends coined this phrase) called The Colonnade was good. There was an odd, dead silence at a line that usually gets laughs, which I still can't figure, and they didn't seem to like my "rear awakening" story much, either.
Jennifer is of the opinion that when I had more ballast back there, this joke worked. Now that I don't have much of a Back 40, it isn't that funny.
Harrumph. It's one thing to diet oneself out of one's wardrobe. But to diet oneself out of one's sure-fire jokes?
So, getting healthy is bad for one's comedy?
Sheesh! News flash: Life is not fair, people. Life is not fair.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Not that you were going to go....
But the art benefit this Thursday is in a new locale--click on Comic Attempts (under "Links of Distinction" down and to your right) to see the new deal.
It is $50 a pop, however, so unless you're a rabid fan of art in Connecticut, I understand if you don't come. Really, I do.
But Jennifer and I will be there, so I can see the temptation.....
On other fronts, today is my birthday. I am now 48 years old, which is about 18 years older than I ever expected to get. (Or wanted to get, for that matter.) Must say I am enjoying life far more than I ever did back in my misspent youth, even if it is accompanied with more than a smattering of aches and pains.
We took the kayaks out this morning for a nice paddle around a local lake, for example, and I can feel it in my back and arms--even though I work out with weights three times a week. One only wonders how bad it would feel without any exercise at all. (Insert: Shudder.)
It's been a grand birthday weekend. Last night, we made our first visit of the season to Jacob's Pillow, a beautiful spot overrun with aging retired New Yorkers and beautiful dancers. Contrasts everywhere! Well, we went to see a documentary, "Carmen and Geoffrey," about two dancers with a great history at the Pillow, and it would have been much more accurate to have called the film "Geoffrey and His Opinions of Carmen." The man is a camera hog, people, and while he obviously adores his wife, he adores the sound of his own voice more. I remember his slightly from a commercial way back in time, where he intoned the pleasures of the un-cola (I think it was an ad for 7Up, but who can remember?) in his deep Caribbean-steeped voice.
Carmen, on the other hand, first appeared at the Pillow in 1953 (or was it '54?), and is still stunning. Stunning. While she spoke some, I wanted to hear more from her--and less from her blowhard hubby.
Of course, that could be my dyke talking. I have a weakness for older women, especially gorgeous, serene older women who are strong and move with grace--something sadly lacking in the Podolske DNA.
The best part of the evening is they were sitting across the aisle from us, and when it came time for the Q&A after the film, they stayed in their seats and spoke to the audience. We were close enough to feel as though we were at dinner together. Quite lovely, that.
Well, there's one more noteworthy event of this noteworthy day: I met and held an eight-month old child named Chloe, who is in foster care with friends who I knew wanted to adopt children but I had no idea they were going to get the ball rolling this soon. (They didn't really think it was going to happen this soon, either, truth be told.) The child is pudgy perfection, but serious as a judge. She definitely has the Churchill look down, and appears to be pondering questions of great import, even when she's probably pondering her own gas.
I do hope this doesn't signal the end of this friendship--we have lost more than one delightful couple of friends to child-rearing, and worry--but I am hoping we'll manage somehow. We shall see!
It is $50 a pop, however, so unless you're a rabid fan of art in Connecticut, I understand if you don't come. Really, I do.
But Jennifer and I will be there, so I can see the temptation.....
On other fronts, today is my birthday. I am now 48 years old, which is about 18 years older than I ever expected to get. (Or wanted to get, for that matter.) Must say I am enjoying life far more than I ever did back in my misspent youth, even if it is accompanied with more than a smattering of aches and pains.
We took the kayaks out this morning for a nice paddle around a local lake, for example, and I can feel it in my back and arms--even though I work out with weights three times a week. One only wonders how bad it would feel without any exercise at all. (Insert: Shudder.)
It's been a grand birthday weekend. Last night, we made our first visit of the season to Jacob's Pillow, a beautiful spot overrun with aging retired New Yorkers and beautiful dancers. Contrasts everywhere! Well, we went to see a documentary, "Carmen and Geoffrey," about two dancers with a great history at the Pillow, and it would have been much more accurate to have called the film "Geoffrey and His Opinions of Carmen." The man is a camera hog, people, and while he obviously adores his wife, he adores the sound of his own voice more. I remember his slightly from a commercial way back in time, where he intoned the pleasures of the un-cola (I think it was an ad for 7Up, but who can remember?) in his deep Caribbean-steeped voice.
Carmen, on the other hand, first appeared at the Pillow in 1953 (or was it '54?), and is still stunning. Stunning. While she spoke some, I wanted to hear more from her--and less from her blowhard hubby.
Of course, that could be my dyke talking. I have a weakness for older women, especially gorgeous, serene older women who are strong and move with grace--something sadly lacking in the Podolske DNA.
The best part of the evening is they were sitting across the aisle from us, and when it came time for the Q&A after the film, they stayed in their seats and spoke to the audience. We were close enough to feel as though we were at dinner together. Quite lovely, that.
Well, there's one more noteworthy event of this noteworthy day: I met and held an eight-month old child named Chloe, who is in foster care with friends who I knew wanted to adopt children but I had no idea they were going to get the ball rolling this soon. (They didn't really think it was going to happen this soon, either, truth be told.) The child is pudgy perfection, but serious as a judge. She definitely has the Churchill look down, and appears to be pondering questions of great import, even when she's probably pondering her own gas.
I do hope this doesn't signal the end of this friendship--we have lost more than one delightful couple of friends to child-rearing, and worry--but I am hoping we'll manage somehow. We shall see!
Monday, June 18, 2007
Wisconsin Tour 2007 Highlights
"Youse guys are here for me and I'm here for youse guys."
As sweet a definition of a support group as I have ever heard--and in the language of my people, no less.
The source could have been from Wisconsin, or she could've been a UPer (denizen of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan), but the language is pure Upper Midwest, in case youse guys were wonderin'.
Yes, I'm back from five days in Wisconsin, featuring visits with one college buddy, three relatives, one friend of the family, 12 or so members of an anonymous fellowship, a friend from my Morocco days and 60 or so high school classmates (incl. spouses).
My trip was fraught--two of the relatives have fallen on very hard times, health-wise, and I don't have any friends who can think back on their high school days without flinching. (And it may not be a sign of an open heart/mind, but I do draw back a bit from anyone who tells me they had a blast in high school.... How, indeed, is that possible?)
Anyway, to add to the fray, I agreed (sort of) to do some standup at my reunion. This prospect bothered some of my comic friends--particularly my Comedy Buddy--to no end, but it seemed like a good idea to me.
And you know what? It was a good idea. While the setup was terrible--a very bad sound system was blaring the worst hits of the '70s before I went up, and the head of the reunion committee introduced me repeatedly (at least four times, I kid you not) as a "professional comic"--my set went very well. Sure, there was some dead air, but not as much as at your average Elks Club, and when my classmates laughed, they laughed but good.
The best part was afterwards, when a couple of people pulled me aside to tell me their "gay-friendly" stories. They were personal, so I won't repeat them here, but considering the sources were guys who lived their entire lives in either my home town or a town of about 3,000 people in the same state, their tales were remarkable. Heart-warming. Balm for this ol' dykesaurus' soul.
But the best part of the evening? Long before I performed, I got a hug from someone in my class who could have easily given me the cold shoulder--or worse--and had cause to do so.
That verged on the miraculous, really. Made the whole trip worthwhile, in an instant.
Healing in the Heartland, people--if it can happen there, it can happen anywhere.
It is good to be home, however. I had to get out of there before I ate any more saturated fat--the state is teeming with it, and while I made sure to eat at least some fruits and vegetables each day, I realized I am powerless over the food of my forefathers and mothers.
Let's just say I didn't count WW points on this trip. I studiously ignored them.
My favorite off-the-charts repast was a plate of potato salad. Now I'm sure it had more points than Heinz has pickles, but who can refuse a plate of fresh potato salad? Especially when it was prepared by a great gal named Florence who tells you stories about your dear departed parents, and who catches you up on the "kids" who still live in town?
Would you turn it down? You're made of sterner stuff than I, Dear Reader.
It is good to be home, even though I received my first "hate" mail upon my return. Wrote a letter to the editor of our local paper in response to a call to arms by MassEquality, and received what was intended to be hate mail, but actually was quite hilarious.
The message? "Dirty Fagg."
Yes, indeed. Not only did this person call this 100% dyke a fag, he or she SPELLED IT WRONG.
The clincher: The person also put a return address on the envelope containing this terse bit of balderdash.
Is it any wonder the anti-gay folks aren't exactly doing well?
As sweet a definition of a support group as I have ever heard--and in the language of my people, no less.
The source could have been from Wisconsin, or she could've been a UPer (denizen of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan), but the language is pure Upper Midwest, in case youse guys were wonderin'.
Yes, I'm back from five days in Wisconsin, featuring visits with one college buddy, three relatives, one friend of the family, 12 or so members of an anonymous fellowship, a friend from my Morocco days and 60 or so high school classmates (incl. spouses).
My trip was fraught--two of the relatives have fallen on very hard times, health-wise, and I don't have any friends who can think back on their high school days without flinching. (And it may not be a sign of an open heart/mind, but I do draw back a bit from anyone who tells me they had a blast in high school.... How, indeed, is that possible?)
Anyway, to add to the fray, I agreed (sort of) to do some standup at my reunion. This prospect bothered some of my comic friends--particularly my Comedy Buddy--to no end, but it seemed like a good idea to me.
And you know what? It was a good idea. While the setup was terrible--a very bad sound system was blaring the worst hits of the '70s before I went up, and the head of the reunion committee introduced me repeatedly (at least four times, I kid you not) as a "professional comic"--my set went very well. Sure, there was some dead air, but not as much as at your average Elks Club, and when my classmates laughed, they laughed but good.
The best part was afterwards, when a couple of people pulled me aside to tell me their "gay-friendly" stories. They were personal, so I won't repeat them here, but considering the sources were guys who lived their entire lives in either my home town or a town of about 3,000 people in the same state, their tales were remarkable. Heart-warming. Balm for this ol' dykesaurus' soul.
But the best part of the evening? Long before I performed, I got a hug from someone in my class who could have easily given me the cold shoulder--or worse--and had cause to do so.
That verged on the miraculous, really. Made the whole trip worthwhile, in an instant.
Healing in the Heartland, people--if it can happen there, it can happen anywhere.
It is good to be home, however. I had to get out of there before I ate any more saturated fat--the state is teeming with it, and while I made sure to eat at least some fruits and vegetables each day, I realized I am powerless over the food of my forefathers and mothers.
Let's just say I didn't count WW points on this trip. I studiously ignored them.
My favorite off-the-charts repast was a plate of potato salad. Now I'm sure it had more points than Heinz has pickles, but who can refuse a plate of fresh potato salad? Especially when it was prepared by a great gal named Florence who tells you stories about your dear departed parents, and who catches you up on the "kids" who still live in town?
Would you turn it down? You're made of sterner stuff than I, Dear Reader.
It is good to be home, even though I received my first "hate" mail upon my return. Wrote a letter to the editor of our local paper in response to a call to arms by MassEquality, and received what was intended to be hate mail, but actually was quite hilarious.
The message? "Dirty Fagg."
Yes, indeed. Not only did this person call this 100% dyke a fag, he or she SPELLED IT WRONG.
The clincher: The person also put a return address on the envelope containing this terse bit of balderdash.
Is it any wonder the anti-gay folks aren't exactly doing well?
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Good news, it travels!
Heard about the vote on the gay marriage ban from #1) my Sweetie, #2) my Comedy Buddy, and #3) Senator Stan Rosenberg while I'm out here in Madison, Wisconsin, a place that struggles with the concept of DOMESTIC PARTNERSHIP.
The Midwest. (Everything you've heard is TRUE.)
Anyway, I "Woo-Hooed" when I got the message on my cell from Linda, even though I was walking down State Street by myself. Happily, there were only drunk college students around, so nobody paid me no never-mind.
While I grew up in a state with a progressive past, I now call a truly progressive state home, and you're reading drivel from one grateful dykesaurus now.
A tired dykesaurus, however, who has a big drive ahead of her tomorrow. To the high school reunion...#30...."Oy!" as we don't say in Wisconsin.
Happy day!
The Midwest. (Everything you've heard is TRUE.)
Anyway, I "Woo-Hooed" when I got the message on my cell from Linda, even though I was walking down State Street by myself. Happily, there were only drunk college students around, so nobody paid me no never-mind.
While I grew up in a state with a progressive past, I now call a truly progressive state home, and you're reading drivel from one grateful dykesaurus now.
A tired dykesaurus, however, who has a big drive ahead of her tomorrow. To the high school reunion...#30...."Oy!" as we don't say in Wisconsin.
Happy day!
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Vacation
Linus continues to have good days and not-so-good days. This morning, around 2:30, he woke me up to go outside, only to RUN barking after who-knows-what outside.
It being 2:30, I forgot to put on my glasses and my shoes, so I have no idea what he was running towards.
Am terribly, terribly grateful it wasn't a rabid skunk. Being virtually blind as well as barefoot, I wouldn't have been much help.
And who, exactly, expects an arthritic dog to suddenly be able to run? (He did collapse afterwards, but still.)
Note to self: Put on your glasses, no matter what the hour.
Today, we're both a little groggy, as you can imagine. I expect this to change shortly, as we're off to see the dyke diva Kate Clinton tonight.
I adore Kate Clinton. If ever a Martian were to ask me to "Take me to your leader," she'd be my first pick.
On the vacation front, I'm still stuck with two tickets to the "True Colors" tour in Chicago. No nibbles on the online front or the friend front. Sigh.
Looks like I'm going to eat them, but if one must lose money on tickets, at least they were for a good cause.
Elsewise, I will be hanging with my high school's Class of 1977 in the not-too-distant future. By myself. (Linda is staying home to tend to our dear boy.)
They want me to do some of my standup, the prospect of which has sent more than one comic friend (and one sister-in-law) into tizzies. Small, medium, and large size tizzies, to be exact.
I understand their concern, but also feel this might be something very, very good. You know--for the healing.
Of course, it might also be good for the nice lady in town I stopped seeing a while ago as well.
We shall see, eh?
It being 2:30, I forgot to put on my glasses and my shoes, so I have no idea what he was running towards.
Am terribly, terribly grateful it wasn't a rabid skunk. Being virtually blind as well as barefoot, I wouldn't have been much help.
And who, exactly, expects an arthritic dog to suddenly be able to run? (He did collapse afterwards, but still.)
Note to self: Put on your glasses, no matter what the hour.
Today, we're both a little groggy, as you can imagine. I expect this to change shortly, as we're off to see the dyke diva Kate Clinton tonight.
I adore Kate Clinton. If ever a Martian were to ask me to "Take me to your leader," she'd be my first pick.
On the vacation front, I'm still stuck with two tickets to the "True Colors" tour in Chicago. No nibbles on the online front or the friend front. Sigh.
Looks like I'm going to eat them, but if one must lose money on tickets, at least they were for a good cause.
Elsewise, I will be hanging with my high school's Class of 1977 in the not-too-distant future. By myself. (Linda is staying home to tend to our dear boy.)
They want me to do some of my standup, the prospect of which has sent more than one comic friend (and one sister-in-law) into tizzies. Small, medium, and large size tizzies, to be exact.
I understand their concern, but also feel this might be something very, very good. You know--for the healing.
Of course, it might also be good for the nice lady in town I stopped seeing a while ago as well.
We shall see, eh?
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
My favorite member of the GOP
I have a dear friend who comes from a very conservative neck of the woods, and her family has done its level best to blend in. Her father, for one example, is a card-carrying Republican, but he has become increasingly less GOP and increasingly more PFLAG as the result of being the father of a card-carrying Dykesaurus.
He cried when he gave the toast at her wedding, and has had a special place in my heart ever since.
But he also has become a vocal defender of GLBT folks, as the following attests.
I feel that a response is required in regard to [mean guy]'s letter ("Falwell was right to condemn homosexuals," June 1). This newspaper should not waste space by printing letters from people who are obviously ignorant about the subject of the letter. I realize that logic goes out the window when religion is involved, but here goes.
Mr. [mean guy] reported that God said in Leviticus 20:13 that the behavior of homosexuals is detestable, and that Jerry Fallwell was right to condemn them. God did not write the book of Leviticus, nor any other book in the Bible. The Bible was written by humans. They may have believed that they were inspired by God, but God did not put pen to paper. The human who wrote Leviticus probably believed the world was flat. He had no idea that the western hemisphere existed. He did not have a clue about how conception occurs, and in particular how genetic traits are passed on to offspring. That human was ignorant when it comes to homosexuality.
Homosexuality is not a chosen lifestyle. Homosexuals are the way they are because that is the way they were born. They cannot change their sexual preference any easier that they could change their eye color. My daughter is a homosexual person. I like to say that she inherited a lot of my traits and one of them is that she prefers females, one in particular who is a singularly wonderful human being. Neither my daughter or her partner have a prejudiced bone in there body, which is more than I can say about Jerry Falwell and Mr. [mean guy].
Perhaps the writer of the letter that upset Mr. [mean guy] should not have rejoiced at Falwell's death but the God that I know would not condemn any of His creations simply because of the way He created them. Neither should Jerry Falwell.
[The end.]
Hope comes in the form of a Republican in Iowa. Who knew such things were possible?
He cried when he gave the toast at her wedding, and has had a special place in my heart ever since.
But he also has become a vocal defender of GLBT folks, as the following attests.
I feel that a response is required in regard to [mean guy]'s letter ("Falwell was right to condemn homosexuals," June 1). This newspaper should not waste space by printing letters from people who are obviously ignorant about the subject of the letter. I realize that logic goes out the window when religion is involved, but here goes.
Mr. [mean guy] reported that God said in Leviticus 20:13 that the behavior of homosexuals is detestable, and that Jerry Fallwell was right to condemn them. God did not write the book of Leviticus, nor any other book in the Bible. The Bible was written by humans. They may have believed that they were inspired by God, but God did not put pen to paper. The human who wrote Leviticus probably believed the world was flat. He had no idea that the western hemisphere existed. He did not have a clue about how conception occurs, and in particular how genetic traits are passed on to offspring. That human was ignorant when it comes to homosexuality.
Homosexuality is not a chosen lifestyle. Homosexuals are the way they are because that is the way they were born. They cannot change their sexual preference any easier that they could change their eye color. My daughter is a homosexual person. I like to say that she inherited a lot of my traits and one of them is that she prefers females, one in particular who is a singularly wonderful human being. Neither my daughter or her partner have a prejudiced bone in there body, which is more than I can say about Jerry Falwell and Mr. [mean guy].
Perhaps the writer of the letter that upset Mr. [mean guy] should not have rejoiced at Falwell's death but the God that I know would not condemn any of His creations simply because of the way He created them. Neither should Jerry Falwell.
[The end.]
Hope comes in the form of a Republican in Iowa. Who knew such things were possible?
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Getting better all the time (v.2)
Guess who I saw on the chaise after lunch this afternoon? None other than Linus, that's who!
He is still having some trouble, true, but he is getting so much more mobile lately, we have real hope for the boy.
Sigh.
On other fronts, it's soon to be a holiday weekend, and I for one think it can't come fast enough.
Big Company has been a bit more vexing than usual lately.
Working there has helped me feel a lot better about myself in some ways (they need a little levity and clarity in their lives, and that's something I can certainly deliver), but worse in others (why am I walking around in these marble-lined halls wearing these ridiculous clothes? And what's with this cubicle?? Thank goddess I'm not claustrophobic!).
But I enjoy earning my keep and Linda has been talking a lot about doing a Johnny Paycheck (and soon), so that's all I'm going to say.
Memorial day weekend is upon us. Let us all take a moment to rejoice in this, and the fact that the best German Shepherd mix in the world is back up on his throne, master of all he surveys.
Happy day!
He is still having some trouble, true, but he is getting so much more mobile lately, we have real hope for the boy.
Sigh.
On other fronts, it's soon to be a holiday weekend, and I for one think it can't come fast enough.
Big Company has been a bit more vexing than usual lately.
Working there has helped me feel a lot better about myself in some ways (they need a little levity and clarity in their lives, and that's something I can certainly deliver), but worse in others (why am I walking around in these marble-lined halls wearing these ridiculous clothes? And what's with this cubicle?? Thank goddess I'm not claustrophobic!).
But I enjoy earning my keep and Linda has been talking a lot about doing a Johnny Paycheck (and soon), so that's all I'm going to say.
Memorial day weekend is upon us. Let us all take a moment to rejoice in this, and the fact that the best German Shepherd mix in the world is back up on his throne, master of all he surveys.
Happy day!
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Back on track!
That Jimmy Tingle--what a nice guy! I'm not suggesting there aren't other nice guys in The Comedy, but Jimmy sets a new standard of "nice guy-ness" for the industry.
At least in my (limited, admittedly) experience.
Jennifer and I drove over there last night, with Scotchie in the back seat noodling over his cell phone (I don't pretend to understand the allure of noodling over one's cell phone--probably sour grapes because I couldn't read text small enough to fit in a phone if my life depended on it--but it kept him happy while he was along for the ride, and that's what counts). Originally, Jennifer was coming along in fine comedy buddy form, in the hopes that she'd get some future time on the Jimmy Tingle's Off Broadway (JTOB) stage.
Well, she got her wish--but the "future" was now. Jimmy needed comics, and so Jennifer got a spot on last night's stage, too. Woo!
The only downside is that the place wasn't exactly packed, shall we say. I've certainly worked smaller rooms, but then again, about 10 more people would have been helpful. The show is at the building stage, though, so eventually, there will be more people, if there's any justice in this world.
Or if the word gets around, whichever comes first.
Whatever happens, if there's a show, I'll be back to perform in it. Jimmy is a dream to work for, and the people who work there are dear as well. Methinks Jennifer is of the same opinion, too, which works out great.
Must say, after a night like this, I feel all full of hope and what-all. Might just be the weather (we have SUN!), might just be fatigue (I didn't get to bed until 2:30 a.m.), but then again, it might just be based on an inkling of what may be coming....
We shall see!
Oh, one last thing. Had a new line occur to me last night, and it's part of my burgeoning 30th high school reunion material. I talked about how I've changed since 1977--went from straight girl/wanna-be artist to art school dropout/recovering dykesaurus--and how my former classmates may react. Methinks they'll be full of gratitude, actually, leading me to conclude:
"Ann Podolske, bringing self-esteem to the people since 1959."
At least in my (limited, admittedly) experience.
Jennifer and I drove over there last night, with Scotchie in the back seat noodling over his cell phone (I don't pretend to understand the allure of noodling over one's cell phone--probably sour grapes because I couldn't read text small enough to fit in a phone if my life depended on it--but it kept him happy while he was along for the ride, and that's what counts). Originally, Jennifer was coming along in fine comedy buddy form, in the hopes that she'd get some future time on the Jimmy Tingle's Off Broadway (JTOB) stage.
Well, she got her wish--but the "future" was now. Jimmy needed comics, and so Jennifer got a spot on last night's stage, too. Woo!
The only downside is that the place wasn't exactly packed, shall we say. I've certainly worked smaller rooms, but then again, about 10 more people would have been helpful. The show is at the building stage, though, so eventually, there will be more people, if there's any justice in this world.
Or if the word gets around, whichever comes first.
Whatever happens, if there's a show, I'll be back to perform in it. Jimmy is a dream to work for, and the people who work there are dear as well. Methinks Jennifer is of the same opinion, too, which works out great.
Must say, after a night like this, I feel all full of hope and what-all. Might just be the weather (we have SUN!), might just be fatigue (I didn't get to bed until 2:30 a.m.), but then again, it might just be based on an inkling of what may be coming....
We shall see!
Oh, one last thing. Had a new line occur to me last night, and it's part of my burgeoning 30th high school reunion material. I talked about how I've changed since 1977--went from straight girl/wanna-be artist to art school dropout/recovering dykesaurus--and how my former classmates may react. Methinks they'll be full of gratitude, actually, leading me to conclude:
"Ann Podolske, bringing self-esteem to the people since 1959."
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Last-minute show!
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!).
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!).
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....
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