Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in comic_mom's LiveJournal:

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Monday, May 28th, 2012
3:03 pm	BtL: If The Name Still Fits Sure, I've had a lot of good things happening this week, including a fabulous comedy show in Glendale, a rather normal crappy show at the Liquid Zoo, and an okay Undie Sunday at The Barrel. I hope to post pictures and such later, and fortunately, I have proposals to edit this Memorial Day weekend. But I will take a break from all that to let you in on the BtL report. He has been calling, off and on, since we got back to the Gingerbread House in February. Something supposedly happened with his phone and he has been using his mama's the past few weeks. She is very nice to let him use it, but, as always, he didn't much appreciate it. A few times, I've called him his real name, which at this moment, I'm trying to forget. But usually, I call him BtL. As some of you know, the last two words in that acronym stand for "the Liar," which he is. Yes, it's really nice talking to him sometimes, but I need to remember that he will lie in a heartbeat. As he did when he told me he was going camping this weekend. He did no such thing, of course, but even the last time I talked to him, earlier today, he was feeding me that lie, even though he couldn't quite come up with the names of the guys he went camping with. Shouldn't you at least come up with a good lie?!? MSG, his wife, has supposedly moved closer to their daughter, but my guess is that she had something to do with last night's huge whopper of a lie. She is probably not living with BtL at the moment, but she is certainly showing up a lot lately. I can tell these things now, being that I've had so much experience with how he is when she is in his life. She won't be near Salisbury for long, I can tell you that. She'll be back in BtL's house to live, I'm guessing, within the next three months. I call her his wife, btw, because she comes first. She "has his balls" as a friend of mine likes to put it. BtL and MSG may not be legally married, but they are married at heart. Anytime she calls, he answers and jumps to do what she wants. Has anything changed since last summer? No. And it more than likely never will. I'm so very thankful that I took my pictures out of the BtL abode. I remember how, last summer, he took my picture down when she was around and put it back up when she was not. I guess this kind of thing adds a bit of drama to my otherwise fairly normal (except for Undie Sundays, etc.) momly and wifely life in the SFV. And it connects me with home. Still, I am finding it just as repulsive as it was last summer. And I am finding BtL just as repulsive, too. I named him appropriately. I had felt some weird vibes and really my intuition doubted his camping story from the getgo. I'm not as stupid as I was when he told me, about a year and a half ago, that he wanted us to "see if we can take a break" from talking for a day or so. Just to see if we could live up to the challenge, as he put it. He was lying to me then, but I didn't want to see it. Now, I embrace my ability to see through his lies. I am no longer fooled by his lies or those of his wife. I am learning to trust my intuition and the good sense that God gave me. I am extremely thankful for that lesson. It would be easy to hate BtL and MSG or be angry with them, but they have taught me so much. For instance, I am extremely careful about who gets actual pictures of me. Sure, I have a bunch on FB and maybe that's not a great idea, but NB (remember him? DUI boy?!?) had asked me to send him pics that I took of him and me one night at VV. I never did, even though he begged, and for that, I have to thank MSG and BtL who taught me, last summer, to be extremely careful about my pictures. And so, I am extremely thankful that I did not send those pictures to NB. Extremely thankful. I am learning slowly but surely. I am becoming smarter every day. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, May 22nd, 2012
1:29 pm	Comedy Stuff I Need to Remember BILL HICKS’S PRINCIPLES OF COMEDY 1. If you can be yourself on stage nobody else can be you and you have the law of supply and demand covered. 2. The act is something you fall back on if you can’t think of anything else to say. 3. Only do what you think is funny, never just what you think they will like, even though it’s not that funny to you. 4. Never ask them is this funny – you tell the...m this is funny. 5. You are not married to any of this shit – if something happens, taking you off on a tangent, NEVER go back and finish a bit, just move on. 6. NEVER ask the audience “How You Doing?” People who do that can’t think of an opening line. They came to see you to tell them how they’re doing, asking that stupid question up front just digs a hole. This is The Most Common Mistake made by performers. I want to leave as soon as they say that. 7. Write what entertains you. If you can’t be funny be interesting. You haven’t lost the crowd. Have something to say and then do it in a funny way. 8. I close my eyes and walk out there and that’s where I start, Honest. 9. Listen to what you are saying, ask yourself, “Why am I saying it and is it Necessary?” (This will filter all your material and cut the unnecessary words, economy of words) 10. Play to the top of the intelligence of the room. There aren’t any bad crowds, just wrong choices. 11. Remember this is the hardest thing there is to do. If you can do this you can do anything. 12. I love my cracker roots. Get to know your family, be friends with them. This fabulous array of good advice was posted by my good friend, Comedian Ryan Talmo. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Monday, May 21st, 2012
1:42 am	R.I.P. Jerry Shores I'd just gotten back from the Undie Sunday comedy show at The Barrel in Sherman Oaks, after a day of going hiking with the boys and looking at the solar eclipse with safe glasses. I was looking at FB and happened to see my cousin's daughter's FB page. On it were the words, "R.I.P. Jerry Shores." Being that I am adopted, Doug is not my cousin by blood, but he and his brothers made me feel like their little sister when I was a little girl. Somewhere, I have a picture of me with them, with me feeling and looking like a little sister. Doug's mama and daddy, Hobert and Helen, had moved to Thomasville to work in the furniture factory. Hobert's brother, Jerry, moved also to "T-Ville," as Beauford Shore always called it. It was always the place with the big chair when I was growing up. Well, it still is. There is a huge chair in the middle of town, paying homage to the once-flourishing furniture industry. Thomasville furniture was the best and people all over the world would come to buy it. As in the place where I grew up and almost all the small towns that I know, most of the factories are now closed. Perhaps some Chinese company now makes Thomasville furniture or perhaps it is not made at all, but many of the furniture factories that once put meals on the table in T-Ville are now gone. Jerry and Hobert had more opportunities in T-Ville than people in my generation now have. Jobs are no longer as plentiful as they once were. These days, small towns are depressing in that way. I last saw Jerry over a year ago. Although I dearly loved being in North Carolina this past January, the boys and I got into enough trouble with classes and such getting back as late as we did, during the first week in February. I went to see Hobert and Helen in January, for a quick visit, but not Jerry and Betty. Jerry had some health problems but seemed to be doing better. Hobert has also had health problems. Helen and Betty seem to be very healthy. (It's weird to even write their names alone. Growing up, it was almost never just "Betty" or "Helen," but always "Hobert and Helen" and "Jerry and Betty.") I was trying to get to Raleigh the night I left Hobert and Helen's and as much as I wanted to stop by Jerry and Betty's, I didn't make the time that night. Although I regret that, I am thankful that we saw Jerry and Betty in January 2011. I loved everybody on the Shore side of the family and at least once each month, we'd all get together at wherever Grandma Shore was living and the adults would talk and talk and talk. Because I was the youngest, I would sometimes be the only child there. All my cousins seemed to be dating or married or whatever else adults were doing. I found lots of stuff to do, though, including listening to the conversations. When we'd go to Jerry and Betty's house, I was always so excited to see their only child, Rocky. When I was really small, before Rocky started dating, I would also be his little sister. We would play "Connect Four" in his parents' kitchen while the adults talked. Sometimes, everybody would come up to the house that I now call Villa Villekula (VV) and we'd all play and talk. Rocky and I have always talked so very easily and a few years ago I talked to him on the phone. Even though I hadn't talked to him in ages, we got along as if we'd just seen each other the day before. And so, I feel especially awful that we didn't make the time to see Jerry and Betty in January. I really thought that we'd be able to see them both this summer. It's almost this summer. We almost made it. I am so very thankful that my boys were able to see and talk with Jerry in 2011, that I was able to take pictures of Jerry and Betty. Jerry always called me "Pat the Cat" and he's the only one who could ever get away with it. He just had this way of being funny with almost everything he said. He was definitely the jokester of the family and because he was the youngest, I just assumed he'd be the last to die, that he would love much longer He was also very insightful, very much like Beauford Shore. Hobert is the last sibling, out of eight, who is living. There is hardly anything that marks the passage of time more than death. Things have never been quite the same since Beauford Shore died and they will never be. I so totally love his family and I'd say that Jerry is my favorite uncle except that they were all my favorites, each in their own way. Even Glen, who died right before I started my first year of college, had his own special place in my heart. I did not know him as well as I did the others, mainly because he did not live as long, but he was no less special. I stil talk with his daughter, Debbie, and I often wish she were my big sister. In a lot of families, there is strife and discontent and fighting, but I never saw that kind of thing with the Shore side of the family. Even when Grandma Shore died, things were divided and to my knowledge, there was only love and no fighting. I remember when Fozie, Beauford Shore's sister, died--I think I was in high school--how he called the Winston-Salem police department and told them how much he appreciated that they stopped traffic for her funeral procession. He was crying as he did this, in the den of VV. Of course, I was embarrassed that he was showing all those emotions, but now, I really appreciate it. He was "tender-hearted," and it is this trait that made him and his brothers such wonderful guys. They were wonderfully manly and yet, there was a tender side to each of them. Picking a favorite would be really hard, but I got to know Jerry and Hobert better than any of my other uncles on that side and so, I'd have to say that they are both the uncles I felt closest to. Jerry was the youngest, the "baby" of the family. Hearing about his death made me really think about how different things are than when I used to go and play in the very large front yard of their house. He doesn't look much older in the picture below than he did when I was a child. Both his wife and Hobert's wife look pretty much exactly the same as they did when I was a child--I have no idea how they do this, but they do. Regardless, death is what happens to all of us and every time I think someone will live forever, as I did with my adoptive father, I eventually realize that no one does live forever on this earth. How I wish we'd visited Jerry in January, but then again, I am so very thankful that we visited him during the winter of 2010-2011. The people I knew as a child are getting old and dying, which reminds me that we all are doing that very thing, whether we want to or not. Jerry and Betty always seemed to love each other so very much. Jerry gave the boys a couple of his yo-yos. I didn't know this until we visited him the winter before last, but Jerry was quite the yo-yo guy, entering and winning competitions. When my sons get their yo-yos out, they always think of Uncle Jerry, which is totally cool. Here is Uncle Jerry, teaching my oldest all about yo-yos. Another thing that's so sad is that Uncle Jerry looked and talked and acted so very much like my adoptive father and now, there is one less person around who is his blood relative. For over 50 years, Betty has weathered all of Jerry's jokes and pranks and yo-yos and everything, with a smile. And yet, they still looked as happy as newlyweds. Not many people these days are blessed with that kind of relationship. In the 90s, while I was busy divorcing and going to grad school, Jerry and Betty put together a family reunion that totally and completely rocked. It would happen every June. I would drive from Raleigh and we'd see the entire family and we'd eat and talk and eat and talk and listen to the wonderful life insurance agent and comic, Ira Beeson, who was, as he put it, "Your friend for life." After everybody ate, Ira would get up and tell a bunch of funny stories. They were so interesting that we'd usually refer to them the rest of the year. It was wonderful getting to know that side of the family after I became an adult and Ira and his wife were like part of the family. Since then, they have both died. I can't believe that the 90s happened so very long ago. Yes, it is so very wonderful doing comedy and going to the beach and hiking and doing all those other fabulous things that SoCal provides, but I so wish I could be there, in T-Ville, for Jerry's funeral. I really wish I could see all those wonderful relatives again. I miss the days when we met at Grandma's house or apartment. I miss the people who talked about politics and jobs and everything else and ended up laughing and hugging each other at the end of the day. As so many others are, I am so grateful for Jerry's life. He was a wonderful guy. Please pray for Rocky and Betty and Hobert and Helen and all of Uncle Jerry's family. The world will certainly be a quieter place without him in it, but I am so very thankful for all his years on this earth. No, he didn't achieve the fame of the Kardashians (thank goodness!) or lots of so-called celebrities, but the world is certainly a better place because of his life. **Note: You may have noticed that "Jerry Shores" spells his name with an "s" and I do not. I have no idea when the s was added or subtracted, but I do know that I've always spelled my name sans the "s," as did my adoptive parents. My school records, etc., all are without the final "s." (Comment on this)
Friday, May 18th, 2012
4:33 am	Mother's Day Was Fabulous! Well, I just tried to upload some pics and this effin' live journal won't let me do it. Sometimes, I think I should move into a more current way of blogging, but then again, I've had this blog for a long time and I've become kinda attached to it. And so, I hope live journal gets its $hit together with this picture thing soon. There. I've said it. I can now move on to my wonderful Mother's Day. Part of me was a bit pi$$ed when I heard that the Cub Scouts were planning to go camping on Mother's Day weekend. After all, who wants to sleep on an air mattress on Mother's Day?!? Or so I thought. And yet, I wouldn't be a mother if it weren't for my three Cub Scouts (one of whom is soon due to be a Boy Scout) and so, I went. Actually, Seven and Nine went with SF on Friday afternoon and Eleven and I stayed here at the Gingerbread House (GH). I went to tap dance class and then, we both performed at the Amsterdam Cafe. It was weird being on stage with just Eleven--as I mentioned to him, I don't think I've done a show with just him since the days of Lucy's Laundrymat. I don't think I spelled "Laundrymat" the way it's supposed to be spelled, but it's been so long that I've forgotten the spelling. And it's in a not-so-great neighborhood, one that I only felt comfortable visiting for the comedy show. Wow, that was a while ago. I miss that place. But the boys would sometimes come on stage with me, one at a time, as Eleven and I were Friday night at the Amsterdam. It was cool performing with him, but I was a little more nervous than usual. Eleven wanted to eat on stage and I wouldn't let him. I love to eat and the chocolate muffin he got looked awesome, but I draw the line at eating on stage. Did I look like a horrible mother because I made him put down his plate while we were on stage?!? Yes, this is the kind of trivial crap that just drives me crazy as a mom--worrying about whether I'm a horrible mother or not. I never really had these worries before giving birth. I had other worries, for sure, but not these. Not the how-long-will-this-incident-require-to-work-through-in-therapy-for-my-kids-one-day thoughts. It's weird being a mother because sometimes, all your fears and insecurities just go into worrying about your children and you realize that it's not just your own life you're screwing up, but also your children's. Is there any parent who doesn't worry about this from time to time? I worry about it every day. Instead of a college fund, I should probably be starting a therapist fund for my kids. Then again, I really hate therapy, even though I was in it for, oh, about eleven years or so. Maybe I should just win the lottery. Then, we could do college and therapy. Oh, and Eleven went with me to tap dance class on Saturday morning and the teacher let him take the class with me. It's always fun dancing with my kids. And so, maybe Eleven's future therapy sessions will at least be full of mirth. Maybe he'll even find a therapist who tap dances. But back to the camping thing: I absolutely loved it. Sans melatonin, I was able to get eight hours or so of sleep, waking naturally around 6:30 a.m.! Oh, that felt awesome. And CoCo the Wonder Dog was fabulous, too. She got to sniff some other dogs' butts and she's always happy when she can do that. So, all my dreading going camping turned out to be for naught. Unlike the last time the Cub Scouts went camping, this time, we stayed at a KOA in Santa Paula, a little over an hour from the GH, and they had lots of stuff to do, including a really cool jumping thing that the boys and I loved. There was also a "Bigfoot Watering Hole" and other stuff about Bigfoot and Sasquatch. I guess they're one and the same. Anyway, this campground seemed to embrace Bigfoot as its own and there was even a Bigfoot walk on Saturday night, although we were too busy with Cub Scout stuff to go to it. Celebrating Mother's Day was better knowing my kids were having a blast and they were. We got back to the GH around 1:30 p.m.. SF had made reservations at Inn of the Seventh Ray, one of my absolute favorite places in the world, and so, we were able to spend a couple of hours there. That's the place where we told SF's parents that I was pregnant with Eleven, btw. It's been one of my favorite places for quite a while. I posted pictures on FB and maybe I will one day be able to on here. I sure do hope so. After Inn of the Seventh Ray, we went to the beach. SF stayed a bit and had to get back to the GH to do some work. The boys and I stayed at the beach until after the sunset. Oh, it was absolutely gorgeous and fabulous. After all that, I was able to go and do comedy on Undie Sunday at LeBarrel in Sherman Oaks. So that was a pretty rockin' Mother's Day indeed. I was pleasantly surprised to enjoy the camping thing so much. I didn't take a shower at the campground, but I could have. And the bathrooms were very clean, something that Nine told me within minutes of my arrival at camp. That my children know I'm that focused on bathroom cleanliness is a sign that I am not failing completely as a mother. Perhaps they will also find a therapist with a clean bathroom. I am so very thankful that I have given birth to three wonderful (most of the time!) and healthy sons. Wow, I'm really thankful for that. It was absolutely fabulous to spend Mother's Day with them. For better or worse, it is a blessing indeed to be a mom. (Comment on this)
Thursday, May 10th, 2012
3:35 pm	Thursday Update (Finally, I Blogged!) Finally, I blogged! Oh, it has been a while, hasn't it? I have been so very busy. And so full of worry. And a friend's mother died, a friend. S., I remember spending the night with in fourth grade. She lived right beside the school, which was totally cool. I also had a friend who lived across from the school. And my two friends were kin to each other. I remember S.'s mother and how very nice she was to me. I remember her dad, too. They were not that old then. Now, they are dead. Also, another friend's mother died. This friend, L., I remember from the ballpark close to where I grew up. I didn't know her that well, but she lived not too far from me and I used to see her and her mom at the ballpark. The ballpark is not there anymore, btw. It has been replaced by very large houses adjacent to a golf course. The golf course was there when I was growing up. I remember sneaking over to it sometimes when I was at the ballpark. Those are memories that my children can't have because there is no more ball park. Things are more organized and regulated than they were when I was a child. I don't like it. People used to park on the side of the road and go to the ballgames each weekday night, starting around this time of the year. It was an adult softball league, made up of people in surrounding businesses, most of which are no longer around. The blanket factory, the furniture factory, and lots of retail businesses are no longer there. Many of those businesses have not been replaced. When I think about the death of S.'s mother and L.'s mother and I think about how much the world has changed since Beauford Shore died, I think that maybe that's what you miss the most about people when they're dead, sharing stuff with them.  I really miss thinking about how he would react to my having a cell phone that I can type messages into, a laptop computer, and to my children's in-depth knowledge of the Internet and YouTube. But he is not there. I think my life has been missing something since his death and I wonder how much his absence has affected me. Even though it was so difficult to see him when he couldn't drive and when he needed help to get him around, it was nice to have him there, to talk with him on the phone. Neither S. nor L. will be able to see and talk with their mom on earth anymore. Please keep them and their families in your prayers. _________________________________ We did dance pictures on Saturday in DisneyCity. This makes the fourth year we've done them. It's always quite a feat to get the boys all dressed up in their outfits. It's harder to do, I found out Saturday, when the court is open for basketball. They wanted to play basketball. And I'll admit, it is more fun than waiting around in clothes you can't get dirty. But the pictures got done and we got out of there, eventually. We went for a full moon hike tonight at Franklin Canyon. The supermoon was totally superduper cool. Sir Chad Ridgely asked Sunday night t at LeBarrel in Sherman Oaks if I saw a "super werewolf." He asked it on FB, too. I did not see a super werewolf and proceeded to tell him last night that if there had been said werewolf in the vicinity of the Gingerbread House that C.C. the Wonder Dog would have surely scared him away. Sir Chadly proceeded to tell me that my dog is an "a$$hole," although I don't think he included the dollar signs that I just did. He was actually here early one morning (long story that involves my rosemary) and C.C. was indeed in her "a$$hole" range of behaviors to him. She would stop and go back to her bed and then, come back in to the dining room and bark again, as if he were a whole different person than she'd barked at just a few minutes before. As if he were taking all our stuff out and I was yelling for the police. The reality is that we were sitting in the dining room. I remember when the boys got so mad at BtL for telling the dog to "shut up" last winter. Well, she certainly did need to do that at the time, although BtL did eventually, after more than one event of this, make peace with her so that she calmed down a bit. Sir Chadly just had that one chance. With only that one chance, and a fiesty and overzealous burglar alarm, C.C. the Wonder Dog, it's easy to see how things evolved on stage to calling my dog an a$$hole. Then again, how many dogs can say they've been called an a$$hole on stage by an L.A. comic with acting credits?!? She is a wonder dog, after all. _______________________________ Last night, I went to the Liquid Zoo after dance classes and the boys' gymnastics and sewing class and a dermatology appointment in the morning. Wednesday is always a challenging day here at the Gingerbread House. There's a lot of structure and stuff to do, but the sewing class is totally relaxing and I'm making curtains for the GH. Ironically, they cost more for me to make than if we'd bought curtains in the store. So, they better be some effin' cool curtains. Mrs. R. is helping me to learn to do something I never thought I'd ever do. I am sometimes simply shocked that I am sewing. I hated it so much for so very long. But it is totally cool that I am making curtains. They require lots of measuring, as Mrs. R. told me. But I'm almost finished with my curtains and so far, things are looking good. I really dig the curtain thing. They're not too hard to do, especially when I have a teacher to help me. A kind and patient teacher, for which I am very thankful. SF gave me a sewing machine a few years ago and at the time, I thought it was an odd gift. I almost got rid of it a couple of times. And now, I know enough about how to use it that I sewed some stuff. I've done one pair of curtains, sans ties at the top; this is my first pair with tabs at the top. I am thankful for my sewing machine, which is one of those gifts that has caused much expense. Our sewing classes have been expensive, as are yardgoods these days. And so, it's the gift that keeps on charging, but it also gives me a bit of sanity to be able to make things for the GH and VV. They are simple things, yes, but I am very thankful that I can make them. Soon-to-be-married (this weekend) comic John Clarke was at the Zoo last night and he and a comic named Brian Kerns did a set together about "dicks". I am so very glad my children were safely asleep at the GH. I would have hated to explain that word. The other day, Eleven, Nine, Seven, and I caught the tail end of the Amsterdam Cafe comedy show. Some comic who was probably fairly new at comedy kept using the word "boner" profusely. Profusely. Eleven caught wind of this two-syllable word used throughout the routine despite being in the back, ordering tea (alcohol is not served there) and a sandwich. He asked me very quietly (thank goodness!) what the word "boner" means. Use of that particular word or its kin at the GH has pertained only to dogs or chickens or human bones, inside the body. There has so far been no connection between the word "boner" and a certain part of the anatomy that we talk about in the Peni$ Game. I'd like to keep it that way. It has been almost a week since that request and I am thankful to say that Eleven has either forgotten about it or has googled it. Either way, I like the silence that has ensued regarding that topic. I can only imagine what kind of questions would have come up if they had heard Clarke and Kerns' "dick game" last evening. It's a perfect companion for The Peni$ Game, though, which everyone knows and loves, but has been in hiding for a few months. I'm thinking soon about bringing it back. I realize how much fun it is to have games on stage. Clarke and Kerns taught me that, with an impromptu game that put everybody in a good mood. It was hilarious and creative. I wish I'd videotaped it. He brought me up on stage and I helped them play. And yes, I have pictures, but there's a long story here about the laptop and how it's not connecting well to the Internet right now and how I downloaded my pictures there last night and so I hope soon to solve this issue. And then, I'll post some fabulous pics. (Comment on this)
Thursday, May 3rd, 2012
10:50 am	No, I Did Not Do Comedy at the Liquid Zoo Last Night Last night, I fell asleep with the boys, after reading to them and mumbling, "I might go to the Liquid Zoo a little bit later." Sure, show producer and host Ron Swallow said on FB that the show was running until 1:45 a.m., but I was asleep by then. Very comfortably asleep. This morning starts my third day of detox. Oh, it's not like celebrity detox, or whatever show it is where celebrities go to rehab and get rid of their alcohol addiction or whatever. It's a body detox, a cleansing of my innards, with stuff called "Paleocleanse" that supposedly scrubs my insides in a similar way to taking a Brillo pad and scrubbing off the dirt and grime in the bathtub. Paleocleanse is not the most fabulous stuff in the world, granted, but it does take away most of my desire to sit and drink hot tea all day. Not that I have time to do that all day, of course, but I do have a way of drinking hot tea with milk and sugar when the going gets tough. And it gets tough a lot here at the Gingerbread House. Now, I'm having to deal with things without caffeine. Oh, and without alcohol. Not that I sit around drinking that all day either. But I certainly do enjoy my buttery nipples when I'm doing comedy. I mean the drink, of course. Maybe I was rebelling against having to order a water with cherries. Maybe, just maybe, that's why I didn't go to the Zoo last night. I'm hoping that it's not because I have had two weeks of relatively crappy shows there, so crappy that I did not sing The Dildo Song. You know it's a crappy evening when that happens. Last week, when I got up to do my comedy set, there were fewer than ten people in the whole place. It's not that I'm not okay with that--I've taught Sunday School! (For those not in the know, Sunday School classes often have fewer people in them than that.) It's just that it was kinda depresssing; if I were a better comic, I tell myself, I'd be able to handle non-crowds filled with comics and a bartender. So, it's not as though I'm afraid to talk to small crowds per se, but I may be afraid to talk to them when they are comics who, for the most part, are not listening. Comics rarely listen--we've heard it all and we have crap to do that's usually better than listening to other comics. So, if a comic is listening to you on stage, you're either really funny or the comic wants to suck up to you. I've learned that much in my nine or so years of comedy. Nonetheless, I got some good material out of these past two weeks, even with the no normal people, civilians, as we call them in the comedy world. Sure, I've got a big show next Monday night at The Oaks Tavern in Sherman Oaks. As with my last big show, last week at Universal Bar and Grill, this show should have an audience. And yes, I need to practice. And yes, last night would have been a great time to practice. But I am glad that I slept. Very glad. I woke up at 7 a.m. this morning, before the boys, and I have been getting a lot done. It is not easy going without caffeine and alcohol and bread, but I am feeling very good and taking care of myself. The Liquid Zoo will be there next week. Or the next. Right now, I am going to concentrate on me. Last Monday night, Nine won second place in the bridge smashing contest. All the Webelos Scouts construct balsa wood bridges using guidelines and a base. The base is what Nine is holding on to in this picture. He designed the middle part, which, as he mentioned at the meeting, is quite similar to Eleven's winning design from last year. I guess there's no way to escape your big brother's shadow sometimes. Nine was quite pleased with his bridge, as he certainly should be: (Comment on this)
Friday, April 27th, 2012
6:30 am	It's Not Too Late to Wish Don Moody a Happy Birthday! In the past month or so, a lot of important people have had birthdays: BtL's wonderful mama and SF's fabulous aunt are two of those. In addition, SF's daddy had a birthday recently. I always associate SF's daddy's birthday with Don Moody's because their birthdays are only a day or so apart. I think they're also only a year or two apart in birth year, but I'm not sure which one is older. And of course, I still see Don Moody just as I did when I was a little girl. He's like a daddy to me and I think he'll be here forever. If anyone should live forever here on this earth, it would be Don Moody. It's not simply because he's such a wonderful person, although he is definitely that, but it is also because he performs such a valuable community service. Oh, sure, that's a King Obama word these days: community service. But what Don and other small grocery store owners are doing all over this country has provided a true community service, way before it became hip to do so. Small grocery owners are such a valuable service to small communities, which is, of course, why the government can't stand either one and seems to be trying to eradicate them. Don has withstood all kinds of strangeness, including a robbery and threat to his life in June 2011, and still performs the valuable service of being there to sell stuff to people. This kind of thing is what free enterprise is all about, which is another reason why the government doesn't seem much to like small communities and the small one-owner grocery stores that serve them. I know I've told this story before, but it bears repeating: Don Moody saved Beauford Shore's life. So, in addition to being like a daddy to me, Don Moody also saved the life of my adoptive daddy. That's a pretty cool thing to do. Without any training or government coercion or licensing or any of that crap, Don Moody simply went into a burning house, found Beauford Shore, and helped him get out to safety. He did it because it was the right thing to do. Not many people seem to know the right thing to do these days, much less to do it. But Don Moody did what he needed to do. At some point, I'm guessing that he just realized he had to leave it all up to God and go into that burning house. Whatever and however he did it, he certainly did a good job of it. Don's lifesaving act allowed us to have Beauford Shore with us on earth for a few more months. I sure do wish I had made better use of that time. Eleven was just a baby then and I'd just given birth to him and even though I was visiting Beauford Shore at the hospital in Greensboro, I was also looking for a place to breastfeed. Maybe that was good, though. Eleven was a fabulous distraction for everything else in my life. Come to think of it, he and his brothers still are a fabulous distraction. Somebody posted something on FB the other day about how she wished she could call up and talk with her Daddy. After hearing that, it really hit me that I can't just call and talk to Beauford Shore anytime I want; even though it's been almost eleven years since he died, I still miss that. I'm thankful that my boys are in Cub Scouts and all that kind of thing, but it will be hard for them to find a more Christ-like example in the flesh than Don Moody. Probably a lot of people I know would save people from a burning building. And Don Moody would have saved any member of our community the way that he saved Beauford Shore. But it just so happened that it was Don who went out that cold January evening to check on Beauford--after his medical alarm had gone off--and that Don was put in the place of going into a burning house to save Beauford's life. No matter what might have gone through his mind, he reacted as a hero. One of my favorite blog radio hosts, Nan Martin, was talking the other day about how we can only control our reactions to things. Wow, that's pretty profound, but it sums up really well what a child taught correctly will do as an adult. How we react is so often related to our upbringing. It scares me to think about the reactions of some of the people I see outside at North Hollywood High and other places these days. Maybe they would save somebody from a burning building. Maybe not. Maybe. Who knows what they're teaching in high schools these days. But as he stood at the door of VV that cold January night, Don Moody made a decision that gave another human life. No matter what else you may or may not do in your life, if you have helped someone to live, that is the totally coolest thing ever. Going into his lifesaving decision, Don had the love of his family and the love of everyone in the community. Don may not have had a literal cheering section that night, but the whole community was there in spirit. It's hard to explain how growing up in a small community does that kind of thing to you. Everybody loves Don Moody, which leads everybody to think that whoever robbed Don was just passing through and didn't know Don from Adam's housecat. The randomness of that crime, especially in an area that has been pretty safe, is frightening. It's the kind of thing that happens in L.A., but not in a small town in NorthWest North Carolina (NWNC). I'm sorry that our community was unable to save Don from the emotional and physical pain of the robbery. I'm sorry that our society has turned into such a place that robbery can be done easily at random, even in a place where everybody knows each other's names and business. I'm sorry that every place is becoming like L.A. in way too many ways. But bucking that trend for what I hope is a very long time, keeping the connectedness of a small community intact, is Don Moody. I hope he and his store are with us for years to come. Happy Birthday, Daddy Don--Our world is much better because you are in it! (Comment on this)
Monday, April 23rd, 2012
4:39 pm	Another Fabulous Monday at the Gingerbread House No, I wasn't so hung over from 4/20 day that I haven't written since then. I've had a whole bunch to do, for sure. There were dance classes on Saturday and after that, we went to a dance class friend's elementary school to partake of their fun festival. And to part with around $30. This parting of money included a tasty lunch, but still . . . there's hardly any easier way to part with money than to go to a festival, carnival, or whatever fun money-making (for them) festivity there is. After we were sunburned and nearly out of money, we came back to the Gingerbread House to rest a bit. I was going to do karaoke on Saturday night, but I just read to the boys and went to sleep instead. This was an especially wise decision, considering that I'd a) done a show on Friday night and b) was planning to do a show on Sunday night. Last night's show at LeBarrel in Sherman Oaks was quite a success. One guy at the bar even yelled at one point that the show, hosted by Billy Batz and Perry Kurtz, was "a hell of a lot better than the Comedy Store" last night. And I think he was right, even though I haven't done a show at the Comedy Store in years. Every comic totally rocked, including moi! I have been described, btw, by Robert Turo, whose show I was at last Tuesday night, that I was one of the "hottest" and "freshest faces" in the L.A. comedy scene. Granted, I'm one of a few that he described thusly, but nonetheless, it was totally rockin' to get that compliment. Last night's Underwear Sunday was a huge success. It's weird indeed to describe "success" by how many guys I can get to take off their pants. And in other contexts, taking off one's pants may indeed be a strange way to act in front of me. But last night, two guys came up to the stage, one in boxers and one in just regular old briefs, and pulled down their pants. Sure, it's crazy as hell, but it totally rocks. People really dig it. Okay, they dig SpongeBob, too. And American Idol. And all those other distractions that keep us from focusing on the gigantic losses of freedom that our country is experiencing. So what if free speech is going the way of the pterodactyl?!? So what if our great-grandchildren are going to inherit trillions of dollars of debt brought on by unConstitutional wars?!? Let's party! And really, what can we do? I called a few California Assembly offices last week to tell them how opposed I am to AB 1772, which requires kindergarten; and AB 2109, which makes it harder for parents to exempt their children from vaccines. Maybe I should have actually gone to Sacramento to protest, but that ain't exactly easy and, considering how much influence teachers' unions and pharmaceutical companies have on politicians these days, I'm guessing my and other parents' protests would have done little to counteract any $$$$ that the Assembly committee members may have gotten for their pro-Big Pharma votes. AB 2109 passed "by an overwhelming majority," according to a mom on a homeschooling e-mail list. And so, what to do?!? I used to have the very naive belief that I could change the world, that my writing would somehow educate people and illuminate the truth. After losing a book contract because of my speaking the truth and after having complete strangers wish death and destruction on my family and on me, I think that the only logical solution is something like Underwear Sunday. It may not change the world, but it sure does make people laugh. And people so totally need to laugh these days. Sure, you can argue that the world isn't being served by bringing guys up on stage to take off their underwear, but on the other hand, it's not as though I'm taking away people's rights, the way that King Obama, King George, the California Assembly, and the North Carolina legislature are doing these days. (All governmental legislatures seem to be doing this taking away of freedom thing, btw, and so, I'm singling out CA and NC just because they involve my 'hoods.) So, maybe I'm not helping to solve the world's problem, but at least I'm not a politician. Here's a picture from The Amsterdam Cafe on Friday night. I once heard Johnny Cash, when he was alive, say that it is wonderful to be able to perform on stage with your blood relatives. Considering that for a long time, I didn't know any blood relatives, I'd call it an especially wonderful treat to be able to perform with my own blood relatives, more specifically, with the three that I gave birth to. It was a totally rockin' show. And everybody kept their pants on. Many thanks to the cool audience guy (CAG) who took this picture. (Comment on this)
Saturday, April 21st, 2012
7:43 am	Happy 4/20! I don't know how things are outside of California on 4/20, but they are totally and completely fabulous in L.A.! I went to two pot stores yesterday and got a variety of goodies. The atmosphere was very friendly as well, with the pot store in my 'hood giving away free hamburgers. Oh, and free strawberries dipped in medicated chocolate. For those not in the 4/20 know, medicated means that there is medicine, i.e., marijuana, in the chocolate. Yum!  Here's the story behind 4/20 day, in case you were wondering. Of course, going to the pot stores was an almost-end-of-the-day treat for me, being that the boys went to Denny's Yellow Balloon in Arcadia for haircuts and then, spent almost two hours with gymnastics pictures. After the pictures, the boys and I did comedy at The Amsterdam Cafe in North Hollywood. It was a family show, more or less. Well, it wasn't in a bar--that's a start. The boys really loved performing and it was nice having them on stage with me, even though we only had five minutes and I had to hurry people along more than I wanted to. Still, my crew seems to love the whole performance thing. After all, they have been on Conan O'Brien! As long as I'm heaping praise, I'd like to heap a bit on myself. Things have improved greatly at the Gingerbread House and we are able to handle things a lot better than we were a couple of years ago. Part of that is because I'm not running around like a chicken with its head cut off nearly as much these days. The reason for my relative calmness is due a lot to my FlyLady routines. I'm now hoping on the FlyLady bandwagon and the GH, little by little, is getting decluttered. So are our lives. The boys practice piano almost every day, ten minutes or so at a time, and their piano lessons have improved dramatically because of it. Also, last Saturday in tap class, the teacher praised Eleven, Nine, and Seven at least once during class, due to their good tapping abilities. These good results are being achieved mainly because we're learning to practice a little bit every day, or almost every day. And it's making a difference. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, April 18th, 2012
12:12 pm	Getting Out Of My Comfort Zone: A Double Dildo Evening Yes, I sang The Dildo Song twice last night, once, at Universal Bar and Grill for "Turbo Tuesdays" and next, at Dave's on Broadway in Glendale, the oldest bar in Glendale. It's a rare evening when I can do two comedy shows, but I really dig doing it because it's always an experience to do one show and then, a completely different show. It's a totally cool experience for comics because you really have to be in the moment, at both places. If you've had a good show at the first place, you cannot rest on your laurels and gloat, as I sometimes do. The second show is its own entity--it may indeed be crappy, especially if you are busy gloating to yourself about the first show. I've learned that the hard way.. There are people who do two shows a night in L.A., every night, but I'm not usually one of them. There's hardly a better way to practice, though.  Both shows were out of my comfort zone. I'd heard about Dave's, but never been there. And even though I've done comedy at Universal Bar and Grill for years, I'd never done it for this new show, with show producer Robert Turo, who turned out to be a totally nice guy.. There were new people at Universal, even a new place with Dave's. I was nervous about it all. But it all turned out beautiful. Just beautiful. Mikey McKernan, host of Turbo Tuesdays, told me that he remembered me once he heard The Dildo Song at the end of my set. Yes, everybody loves and remembers that song. From our second Underwear Sunday show last Sunday at Le Barrel in Sherman Oaks, here I am with Gothcomedian Mark White, who brings out the Goth in me. I think he was Beowulf in a previous life. Sir Ridgely and me: Another shot from Le Barrel this past Sunday night. Billy the Batzman shows his basic black Sunderwear® and Sir Chad Ridgely shows his "Lite" Sunderwear. The two guys in the background seem to be figuring out who's going to pull off their pants first. Everybody wins at Underwear Sunday! Sir Ridgely takes it all off, finally! Me, with the Batz Man and my gummy worms! Me, with my prize: Unfortunately, I left the gummy worms in the HO overnight and on Monday morning, it got so hot in the HO that they melted. The boys were devastated. I now owe them some gummy worms. And I have learned to take all my crap out of the HO at night. It only looks as though all our eggs are in one basket here at the Gingerbread House. In reality, there are others scattered around the GH.  (Comment on this)
Sunday, April 15th, 2012
3:33 am	Defriended Sure, I've defriended people on FB, from time to time. Sometimes, I have defriended and then, asked to be added back within a day or so. Usually, those people have added me. I defriended SF once, but he is back on my friends list and of course, I defriended BtL once--but now his daughter took his FB page off-- had added him back as a friend as well. I have mostly defriended guys and mostly because I was mad about something or another. I also defriended a whole bunch of people when Preacher Kenny talked with me, mostly people from my church whom I didn't know that well, or who were in their teens. That talking to really scared me. A lot. Still, I don't know exactly what to do when my comedy doesn't quite fit into the mind of the preacher and his wife. It hurts because what am I going to do?!? And also, it hurts because I have tried for so very long to find my creative thing and now that I have found it, and it involves things called "The Dildo Song" and now, as I have brought back the past couple of times I've done comedy, "The Peni$ Game." Yes, I realize that these are sexual things and that sexual things have never quite been great with most any religion or church. Perhaps we will be kicked out of most churches if they ever find out what some of my YouTube videos contain. Funny stuff, I'm hoping, but what happens when your funny stuff conflicts with what your preacher says you should do? What happens when you're chastised for being funny? What would Jesus do? Oh, well, I guess he would defriend me, just as one of my favorite Sunday School teachers, and a person whom I always thought I could count on, did. I heard from her after we got to the Gingerbread House from North Carolina, in early February. She made a comment or two on my FB page. I appreciated her comments and I'm pretty sure that I clicked the "like" button. But tonight, I thought of her and looked her up and she was gone. "Add Friend" was the button I got when I looked up her name, which means that she has indeed defriended me. The unsolved mystery is when it happened, what she read that so repulsed her or whatever that she no longer wanted to be friends with me. At some point, that happened. At some point, I was rejected. By a person whom I thought would care about me. Yes, it hurts. A lot. I haven't looked, but I'm guessing I've been defriended from my church's FB page, too. It's interesting out here because I rarely meet people who believe in God, at least in comedy circles. Sometimes, I feel as though I'm the only Christian around (not at Cub Scouts--those moms are really cool Christians) and I feel so very alone here. And yet, I'm rejected also by someone who claims to be a Christian, because I'm not that good of a Christian. But then again, who is?!? I pray with my children and sometimes read them the Bible, then I go and act silly on stage. I don't think God would necessarily have a problem with what I'm doing; in fact, He seems to have led me to this very place. More pious Christians will wonder if I have been listening to the devil instead of to Jesus. I surely hope that I have not. Look, I just make people laugh. I just entertain people. It ain't rocket science. Sometimes, I have edited proposals that deal with rocket science and nothing in those proposals looks much like the Peni$ Game. At all. No, the Peni$ Game is a lot of fun and it's pretty darn clean. I usually don't cuss when I'm on stage. What gives?!? Still, it hurts to be rejected, especially by someone I've thought of almost as family, for as long as I can remember. I lost some people when I found my natural parents and I guess I should only expect to lose some people when my shadow self comes out on stage and I break out into "The Dildo Song" at the end of my comedy set. It would certainly be more convenient for me to become a non-believer, an atheist like SF. Ooooh, but I don't see how I could ever do that. Logically, that position has never made much sense to me. Besides the fact that I have felt God and heard Him (something that many of my non-believer friends will laugh at, probably), I think that the whole Darwin evolution theory of creation is much more difficult to believe than that there is a God and He created everything. So there. I said it. And I am stuck. Many Christians think I'm horrible because I don't do squeaky clean Christian comedy. And many non-believers think I'm crazy for believing in God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit. You just can't win sometimes. But you surely can be defriended. I bare my soul for this blog, for comedy, in pretty much all the art I try to create. And when that soul is rejected, it hurts. Perhaps because I suffered one of the biggest rejections that one can ever suffer--i.e., rejection from my own mother--the rejection thing is difficult for me. Perhaps it will always be. Perhaps I attract things into my life that cause people to reject me. Perhaps it somehow feels right for me to be rejected--perhaps I am like some of the embryos in Brave New World, who are trained to be upside down and feel strange when they are not. Maybe I go out looking for rejection, feeling strange when I am not rejected. It is certainly how I was trained, almost from birth. Still, it hurts to be rejected, to be defriended. It hurts a lot. (Comment on this)
Saturday, April 14th, 2012
7:23 pm	Buster Balloon: A Dedicated Entertainer In between helicopters flying over the house and traffic that makes you want to sing "Highway to Hell" in the middle of the 405--Sure, the LAPD is shooting an unarmed suspect on the same stretch of road that I take the boys to Cub Scouts on, within spitting distance of the Canoga Park Bowl, and right close to where SF works. Oh, what else can you do but make jokes when life is this crazy?!? Well, sometimes, I go East and settle down in relatively cozy DisneyCity, where the boys and I chill out and take some classes and play kickball and basketball and learn to sew and dance. Not to say that there haven't been police chases down that way; it's just that there wasn't one this past week. Part of the Nickelodeon empire in DisneyCity, right down the road from where we take a whole bunch of classes. Note that "nickelodeon" is spelled backwards. A couple of weeks ago, we saw Buster Balloon at a DisneyCity library. He is totally awesome. We saw him again this week at another DisneyCity library and there, a librarian mentioned that he legally changed his name to Buster Balloon. That's commitment. Here, Buster, who does lots of balloon sculptures gets inside his "favorite balloon": Whether or not the balloon burst as part of the act, he handled it like a true showman:   Another balloon blown up, Buster Balloon makes sure that the show goes on: A well-deserved bow: Pretty cool entertainment for a weeknight at the library. (Comment on this)
Thursday, April 12th, 2012
3:58 am	Thoughts After Gorilla Munch and Comedy It's early Thursday morning and I just ate some Gorilla Munch cereal that we got at Trader Joe's. That stuff is hugely addictive. I should have been more focused in tonight's comedy show at the Liquid Zoo, but I was not. Well, maybe that's okay, though. I mean, really, there should be some nights when I'm okay not being focused. Each Wednesday, the Liquid Zoo is like one big comedy laboratory, sometimes providing meth addicts for research. Ah, but I also do shows elsewhere, such as at Universal Bar and Grill. Richie the C often hosts this venue, but Monday night, it was fellow Ron Paul supporter, Chris Ramirez. We had a blast: I really like the following picture that I took at Universal, with its red textured 70s wallpaper. Oh, it is my kinda dive bar. I called this picture "The Backside of Comedy" on Facebook. It features comics Chad Ridgely, Joe O'Connell, and Chris Ramirez at the bar. There were two people in the audience who weren't comics, but those two people laughed. Boy, did they laugh. It was absolutely fabulous.   How important is this laughter thing to me? I'm debating that. I'm debating a lot right now. North Carolina. California. SF. BtL. Single. Divorced. Separated. All these things are huge debates for me. How hard is it always to pull myself away from North Carolina? It was certainly easier in October, when BtL was being a real a$$hole. But there are the huge differences in lifestyle. Tonight, if I'd been in North Carolina, I would have taken the boys to church. I wouldn't have gone to ballet. The boys wouldn't have gone to gymnastics (at least, not in DisneyCity), and we all wouldn't have gone to sewing class with Mrs. R. this afternoon. I wouldn't have gone to the pot store last night. Gosh, there are all kinds of things that are different. I sure as hell didn't mean to end up in L.A. doing stand-up comedy. Or did I? Some of you may remember me as having quite a bit of potential as a child. I never remember not being able to read. I just read. My sons haven't done that and I don't know if I've ever met anyone else who has done that kind of thing, but I certainly did. I read something once about there being such "spontaneous readers" and I realized that there were others like me. I know it sounds weird to say I didn't appreciate only spending five weeks in first grade, but I really did not like being skipped to second grade. I was pretty much pissed about that, about being separated from my best friend, about being in a class with kids who were much older than I, about all these things and more when I was a child. But I was voted "Wittiest" in eighth grade, after the teacher explained that "wittiest," which no one knew the meaning of, meant "funniest." People always thought I was smart because I could read, but I felt dumb in so many other ways and yet, people expected me to be smart, even though I felt like a fake because I felt pretty effin' stupid most of the time. The other night, I took the boys to a showcase in North Hollywood that we'd heard about from E.'s mom. E. takes dance with the boys. The showcase featured a dozen or so short skits, most comedic, with children from around 6 to around 12. Eleven was ecstatic. He knew that was what he wanted to do. I remembered being 10 and seeing a scene from "Harvey" performed at my elementary school and knowing that I wanted to do that very thing. I auditioned for a role in "Fiddler on the Roof" and I got the role of the youngest daughter, beating all the city kids who'd auditioned. I only wanted to be an actress. Even after that dream sort of went kaput as I did the play that summer, I really wanted to move to L.A. or New York and be an actress. With my Speech Communication degree from NCSU, I thought I'd work in advertising sales for a few years and go to L.A. or New York and become an actress. There's a theme here. I even married my first husband partly because we both had that dream of making movies. He would make them and I would star in them and we would live in London. Yeah. Right. That didn't quite happen, btw, and we were divorced before our fifth year of marriage. Husband #2 would move anywhere that he could find a job. As with Husband #1, he was involved in the technical aspects of live theatre, working with lights and sound and other technical issues. I don't know why I seem to have this prerequisite for legal husbands. We came to L.A. for me to work on that dream, to write a screenplay, and to come back to N.C. wealthy. In many ways, I am wealthy beyond my dreams. I have three wonderful boys that I get to play and learn with each day. I can go to Cub Scouts in the afternoon and to a comedy show at night. And yet, I am very lonely in many ways. In North Carolina, I get loved and hugged on a lot. Even the preacher at BtL's church hugs everybody and tells us he loves us each week. This kind of thing is wonderful and I really miss it out here. I sometimes hug comics, but I don't get a lot of adult hugging on the West Coast. So, push has now come to shove and I need to start making some decisions. Will the boys and I spend summer and fall in N.C. or California? Am I distracting myself from comedy by being in North Carolina? Am I distracting myself from my family and friends in N.C. by being in California doing comedy? A relatively new comic hugged me the other night. L.A. has these circles of comics. Tom Oliver used to be in my circle, which is how I met him and now, he and his son spent Nine's L.A. birthday with him a few weeks ago. Now, Tom is a successful visual artist and now longer does comedy. I'm so very thankful that I met him. We were in this L.A. comic circle that was going on around Pasadena. I saw one of the comics from that era, Chris K., at Universal the other night. I remember when he and his girlfriend produced a show together. Now, I think they're broken up. Chris does some acting, too, and was dressed in a suit at Universal. I so dig it when comics dress up a little bit. It ain't church, but still. Back to the new comic--his name is Chad Ridgely, and here's his video, "Hot Lesbians." Ridgely's the kind of guy that I moved to L.A. to meet. And by that, he's a guy who's approachable but oh, so ready to produce a sitcom. The way Ben Stiller would have been (in my imagination) if I'd been able to meet him when he was working with Jeanine Garofolo and I was busy recovering from a divorce by going to graduate school. There aren't a lot of guys like Ridgely, or any other comics I know, in North Carolina. Joe Welker, also from North Carolina, and I had a conversation at the Zoo one night and we both talked about how we'd be lucky to go up on stage once or twice a month in Raleigh. Been there. Done that. I learned tonight that Ridgely's only been doing comedy for two months, which is hard to believe. Most people I know have been doing comedy for much longer. For instance, ME. Nonetheless, he's done a lot of cool comedy sketch videos and he used to be a police officer in D.C. What is it about police officers and comedy and me?!? There was Stephen Bell, LAPD officer, who was such a fabulous comedy friend before he gave it up to take a promotion to detective. And now, there's Ridgely, who used to be a police officer, for 13 years. And they're both such good writers, which inspires the hell out of me. Stephen--who is now engaged to a girl from North Carolina!--and I really wrote some great stuff at the Bowl. Stephen's daddy was a Southern Baptist preacher, as was Tom's--really cool and somewhat weird, though. Stephen and I came up with the idea for "Sperm in a Sock," (also viewable at my YouTube channel) inspired by conversations with Stephen and Jason Hadley. I used to be in Hadley's comedy circle, but I haven't seen him since "Lulu's Beehive." He gave my boys a double Star Wars light sword thingie (I hope I'm saying that right.) that he'd had as a child; my boys tore it up in less than a day. In the interest of equal time, here's my latest video, produced by ME, ME, ME (so it ain't perfect). But it does have an early version of "White Girl Rap" and a totally rockin' "Dildo Song." This is the first video, btw, that I totally edited, soup to nuts. Joe O'Connell, mentioned earlier, is now separated from his wife. Joe reminded me that we worked together way back in the Canoga Park Bowl days. It's hard to believe that Dante's Canoga Bowl show ended almost four years ago. I remember that it ended one week and we had Cub Scout camp the next. Certain things seem to help me know that I'm on the right path. Canoga Park Bowl was one of those things. I started working there when Nine was just a few months old. Dante's daughter is a few months younger and Dante and I would often talk about the kids. Then, Dante separated from and divorced his daughter's mother. Now, Joe is separated. I am separated. Perry Kurtz, whom we worked with at Canoga Park Bowl, is also separated. WTF?!? Perhaps there was some kind of marriage curse at Canoga Park Bowl. Nonetheless, I was really glad that Ridgely hugged me the other night when he saw me at The Barrel. He and I haven't known each other for too long, but he smells better than over half the people in L.A. How can you not like a guy like that? I've had some totally cool FB conversations with him and he seems really nice. He has a fabulously wicked sense of humor. I think I want to write a sitcom with him sometime. He's in the underwear pictures in the previous entry. He looks way too nice to go into dive bars and try and make people laugh, which is, I must say, my specialty. I am a dive bar comic mom, for sure. In front of the "Internet Jukebox" at Universal Bar and Grill (Comment on this)
Monday, April 9th, 2012
10:46 am	Easter Monday 2012: The Day After the First Underwear Sunday Last night was my first night doing comedy ever on Easter Sunday. Wouldn't you know it, though, we started something new, something called "Underwear Sunday." Oh, it started out innocently enough, with Billy Batz introducing me and then, pulling his pants off and showing me his underwear: Cute, right? I mean, who doesn't love looking at Billy Batz in his underwear?!? As I recall, it is the first time I've ever been introduced by somebody who then pulled down his underwear. Maybe this will become a new trend in comedy clubs. Then, we had a birthday, from a girl named Jessica, whose actual birthday occurred during my set--so very cool! So, we sang "Happy Birthday" to her, the "Cha Cha Cha" version, of course, being that my kids really dig that version. Not that my children were anywhere near The Barrel in Sherman Oaks when we had our first underwear Sunday--thank goodness! As if we don't have enough problems with underwater-related stuff, such as when Eleven tries to hug me and tells me that his hands have been touching his farts. Oh, thank you so much for that information! Here's Jessica, the birthday girl: She's also a mom, of a 14-year-old. And she has sex with the guy she was sitting at the bar with. She didn't tell me that, but she did tell another comic who was talking to her after my set and was chatting with her. Sex?!? Wow, I remember that word and I sorta remember what it means. Most good things are contagious, of course, and underwear showing seems to be a good thing that is superduper contagious, especially at The Barrel, especially when Billy Batz does it. Here's comic Chad Ridgely with Billy and yes, both have their pants down. Is this the gayest picture I've ever posted on this blog or what?!? After I took this picture, Ron Swallow walked in the door, which is to the right of the "Internet Jukebox." With completely perfect comedic timing, Ron saw Billy and Ridgely zipping up their pants just as he walked in the door. Well, it was quite a sight to behold for Ron, I'm sure, especially being that he's not used to walking into The Barrel and watching two guys zipping up their pants. Really, it's not that kind of bar. What's a comic to do when he finds out that his friends have been posing for underwear shots?!? Well, it's his job to pose as well, right? To join in the fun. Which is exactly what Ron did: Until Ron came along, with his intriguing Batman underwear, I was fixated on Billy's underwear. I mean, really, who wouldn't be?!? Turns out that bartender Daya, Ron's fabulous girlfriend, had bought him that very Batman underwear. It goes so very well with his Superman jacket. He's a true superhero! Still, it's hard to forget Billy's red boxer shorts. Oh, they are so very shiny! It was a fabulously wonderful evening and many thanks to Luis, who was with Julianna, and bought me a buttery nipple after my set. I talked to both of them, really nice folks, and it was great to be paid for comedy, especially with my favorite drink! I work with some great people when I do comedy. How many of your co-workers are so very willing to drop their pants?!? (Comment on this)
Sunday, April 8th, 2012
6:25 am	Easter Morning The Easter Egg hunt in DisneyCity was cancelled yesterday. It has been cancelled for a few weeks now, so it wasn't as though it was rained out or anything. I asked "Hidden Los Angeles," a FB group I'm in, where there are Easter Egg hunts in SoCal and I received a whole list of them. So yesterday, after tap dance classes in DisneyCity, the boys and I went down to Orange County, specifically to Irvine, and got some fabulous Easter Eggs. There were hunts all day; the one we went to was at 3:30 p.m. Lots of hunts in L.A. County started early in the morning and we had those morning classes yesterday. So, we had a fun trip to Orange County. We even ate at Chick-Fil-A!  The Easter Bunny has indeed arrived at the Gingerbread House and this year, the boys are getting some cool Lego sets and of course, chocolate bunnies. We also received some nice Mexican Cokes. For those not in the know, Mexican Cokes have real sugar and not the horrid high fructose corn syrup that American Cokes have. So, they're healthier--well, healthier than an American Coke--and they're in glass bottles, which improves the taste immensely. We've had a pretty killer full moon in SoCal since Friday. I mean, technically it's waning right now, but it's totally cool indeed. And I do mean right now, as in it's still visible and gorgeous at 6 a.m. Happy Easter, everyone! I sure do hope that we all remember this holiday commemorates the sacrifice that Jesus made for us. Well, and chocolate, which probably has nothing much to do with Jesus' death or resurrection, although I bet Jesus would have totally dug a chocolate bunny. (Comment on this)
Friday, April 6th, 2012
4:07 am	Distractions, Distractions, Distractions I've been finding it difficult to sleep lately, which explains why I'm up at almost 4 a.m., writing on my blog. I know I've mentioned BtL a few times in the past few weeks. He has been calling here a lot. Which means he's lonely. Which means that MSG has a boyfriend. For now. Actually, it's about time for her to get pregnant again. Some of you might remember that it was last year around this time that she supposedly became with child. And then, there was the supposed miscarriage, around four months later, with no doctor or hospital involved. You might remember that the fetus somehow just got out of her, totally unassisted, even though it was past the first semester. Now, having said that, some people with a more natural bent may indeed have had a miscarriage in this way, although it's very unlikely. I mean, it's into the fourth month. Some babies are born and survive at only five months or so.  Remember also that her sustenance comes from my taxpayer dollars (and yours!) and that she has dealt with almost every pain that she ever had, supposedly, by taking more pills. I don't know her well, but from what I have heard, she is a pharmaceutical company's dream. So, you'd think that a dead baby, which is pretty much what she would have had if she was actually pregnant last summer, would have propelled her into the doctor's office to get more pills. Or something. That's the fishy part, which has led me to call it her VFP (very fishy pregnancy). Things don't really add up. And so, the possibilities are that she actually was pregnant and decided to go it alone when the baby came out of her at four months, dead; or she lied to BtL; or BtL lied to me. The latter two seem to be my personal preferences for what happened, based on the information that I have been told; you'd think that a dead baby at four months gestation would decommission you, at least for a few days. I mean no harm in writing about her, but I am curious about this pregnancy thing with her. As with most things involving her and BtL, things just don't seem to add up. My guess is that MSG will soon be out of a boyfriend and back to him for taxi service, et al., but then again, I could be totally wrong. It's been great not to have that phone ringing all the time, which has happened since his daughter came home for Easter. Sometimes, he has called me four or five times within a ten minute period. Of course, I miss the good BtL, but knowing about the bad BtL--as I certainly do now--the good BtL is not so very great anymore. I wonder why I allow him into my life, but then again, I think about NB and realize that, hey, at least BtL doesn't have a DUI and at least he has a job. Being friends with NB sure did make me thankful for having SF as the father of my three boys. SF has a job, too. Neither SF nor BtL have ever gotten a DUI, for which I am very thankful. And they both have jobs. I tend to like people who have jobs. Then again, thinking about this whole BtL thing and the NB thing (he talked on the phone even more than BtL), I sure do have a lot of distractions in my life, don't I? I just need to figure out why. (Comment on this)
Monday, April 2nd, 2012
9:30 am	The Day After the Lord's Day of Comedy So, it's been a week since I posted anything here, which makes me sound like some kind of writing slug. I feel like a slug these days, but I'm hoping that will improve as spring continues. I think I'm overwhelmed with a lot these days and always feel as though I'm failing. Then again, that's been quite a familiar feeling to me throughout my life. I'm not sure why. Failing. Always failing. What a bummer. Maybe things will improve, though. Maybe by the time summer gets here, I'll feel more like a mammal. Which I am, btw. I did a comedy show last night at The Barrel and it was okay. That place is just weird, soup to nuts. Or maybe I just have weird experiences there. A couple of weeks ago, there was the guy who wanted to pick me up. Last night, there was a heckler at the bar who claimed to have been a preacher (with more than one denomination) and is now a porn star. Really, what can I say to top that?!? He claimed to "worship p*$$@." Look, I just can't seem to allow myself to say that word in this blog, especially when it was said, by a former preacher, on the Lord's Day of Comedy. And why, really, would you worship that?!? When he said that particular quote, the comic who was on stage said he knew a guy who worshiped a head of lettuce. Of course, this made the preacher-turned-porn-star come up with a joke about "getting head." Get it?!? The whole head connection. See what I must put up with in comedy? Still, it was a pretty good show last night and the preacher/porn star guy finally left, but not before I got on stage. Ugh! Back at the Gingerbread House, between signing up for a comedy spot and going back to actually do my set at The Barrel, we finished the book Maxx Comedy by Gordon Korman. I knew nothing about this book, but happened to see it at the DisneyCity library and picked it up. It's been a really good read and only last night, before I read the last chapter, did I realize the book wasn't written by an actual stand-up comic. Gordon Korman is a children's author, but I did not realize that before last night. He's written a lot of books. And so, I guess he did a lot of research for this book. Imagine that--doing research on stand-up comedy. I think I was afraid to find out who'd written the book because it was probably someone I knew and that someone had made money on a book while I have not made money on a book. Because I haven't written one. So, I was all prepared to be jealous and such. But I ended up not having to be. A children's author I am not. Anyway, the book is about a 12-year-old named Maxx Carmody who wants to enter the America's Funniest Kid contest. There are all kinds of things that go wrong during his pursuit and the ending left me a bit less than satisfied as to Maxx's fate. That's all I'm saying. But the characters are interesting. Maxx lives with his veterinarian dad for part of the week and his mom and stepfather, Mario, the other part. Mario is quite a character. He's a truck driver who does lots of stuff to help Maxx. I also like that Mario has busted the speakers on the computer by downloading Led Zeppelin and listening to it too loudly. What's not to love about a guy like that?!? We've been reading a little bit about Maxx most every night and we've enjoyed getting to know him and his friends, including Big Bird, a guy who is tall and makes funny sounds with his nose; and Maude, who is as annoying as most 12-year-old girls. (Hey, I used to be one.) Some of the book got laughs from my crew and yet there were chapters that seemed to get no laughs. Perhaps I expected a little more funny in this book, but then again, I may be looking for the three jokes to every page rule that I learned at UCLA. Well, that was about screenplays and sitcom scripts anyway and a novel flows differently. I'll certainly miss getting to know Maxx each night. And it was totally cool to read about a 12-year-old who wants to be a comic and then, go do comedy, as a, well, however old I am comic. On a completely unrelated note, North Carolina State University is having a 125-year celebration today. If we were in North Carolina, we'd certainly try to go. After all, as Eleven noted when I told him about the FB posting, there is free food. Oh, and a group called "Old Man Whickutt" will be performing "When Jesus Comes Back" at the NCSU festivities. It's a song for all Wolfpack fans. (Comment on this)
Monday, March 26th, 2012
11:19 am	More Bags of Clutter Gone from the Gingerbread House This weekend, we celebrated Nine's birthday here at the Gingerbread House (GH). I used to try and throw these elaborate birthday parties, with lots of kids. It totally and completely stressed me out. So, I tried something new this year: doing a birthday party with just one other person and that lucky person was Aaron, son of comic turned visual artist Tom Oliver. Tom and I used to work together right much and our boys became friends one night when Aaron brought a magic kit to a comedy show. Needless to say, not too many things bore kids more than a comedy show. So, the magic kit was a huge success and diverted all children's attention away from the adults. Things were different that night: Tom was married and a stay-at-home dad. SF and I were not separated. The one thing that has remained the same in the years since then has been the boys' playing so easily with each other. Saturday was no exception. Last year, we did this huge ice skating venture, which was fun, but this year, we'd just gotten back from N.C. in February and it was all I could do to get everybody to where they needed to be, both in Cub Scouts and with DisneyCity classes. Planning a big birthday bash would have thrown me into some kind of conniption fit that I'd really rather avoid. Aaron and the boys had a fabulous time at Castle Park on Saturday. Even the adults got to play video games. It was fabulous to play Galaga again and I would have played more except that some other woman who probably played it in the 80s was hogging the machine. So, here I was on Saturday, trying to take a bath before Tom and Aaron arrived and I asked the boys and SF to separate the clutter from dance outfits in the GH front hall. I saved the dance outfits in one bag, putting them on my side of the closet, which also needs some clutter removal. The rest of the stuff, SF and the boys placed in a yellow bag for the Vietnam Vets to pick up. There were baby outfits that my real dad had given us and all kinds of stuff. But I told them that if anyone wanted to save anything, they could.  Then I took my bath. I put my yellow bags in the yard after my bath so they would be out of the way and yesterday, it rained. It poured. It rained cats and dogs. Everything got wet, even though SF moved the stuff under the roof. This morning, I was going to get up and sort through the stuff, i.e., pick out a bunch of stuff to save. :)  That's just the way I roll. Usually, the Vets don't come until later in the day, but sometimes they come pretty early. Because I had done some comedy at The Barrel last night (no one tried to pick me up--thank goodness!), I slept late this morning, as did the boys. I kept kinda waking up, though, and thinking, I have to go through the yellow bags. I was kinda sorta thinking I would wash everything, going through it one more time. I kept meaning to do that and I kept listening for the truck, just in case, but sure enough, when I finally got my sleepy head off the pillow, the yellow bags were gone. They'd been picked up. And so, I am totally freaking out right now. On the other hand, my hall is clear and all the stuff that's been there, off and on, for years, is now gone. I have my three boys and that's what's really important. I feel a little bit freaked and a little bit lighter. That stuff was certainly nothing I needed and it is great to have all that stuff out of the way, but still, I feel a bit freaked. Some kids will be getting some awesome clothes that we no longer need, however, even if they are wet. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, March 21st, 2012
11:15 am	So Very Glad I Didn't Sleep With Him So, I go to The Barrel in Sherman Oaks Sunday evening and this guy buys me a drink. Somehow, that sounds like the beginning of a joke. Anyway, the drink buying thing happened on my birthday, btw, way back in November, but hasn't happened since then. I'd already had my one Buttery Nipple for the evening and here, then the lovely and fabulous bartender Mia brings me another one. She pointed to the guy who bought it for me and I looked at him and said "thank you," of course, being the good Southern girl that I am. He was about half way down the bar and I was all the way at one end. The Barrel can be about as crowded as Trader Joe's on a Sunday afternoon and so, when I went back to check on when I was going up on stage, I passed by him; let's call him "Irish Drinking Boy" (IDB) because he told me his real first name, Mark and his last name sounded Scottish or Irish or something in that neck of the woods. He sure was drinking. I'm telling you his first name because yes, he turned out to be an a$$hole and so, in the interest of protecting others who may come across this guy, I'm giving you a fair warning. I also know where he told me that he lives, but I won't post that here, although it's not that far from the Gingerbread House (GH). Ugh! Fortunately, L.A. is a pretty big place, as is the San Fernando Valley, and so, it's not as though he really is any kind of threat. Thank goodness. But now, for the rest of the story: He looked kinda normal and alone and I wanted to thank him and tell him that I appreciated the drink and find out his name and such. And so, I did. Musically comedic host Perry Kurtz had changed things from a numbered list, in which I was Numero 12, to an alphabetical list. This change occurred while I was gone to the Whole Foods, before I had my second drink, from IDB. And so, I had gone from being 12 to being H. I'm not sure exactly how that translates, but I was back from the Whole Foods--and from reading a couple of pages to the boys when I brought back the groceries to the GH--in plenty of time to do my set. When I can get comedy and grocery shopping in on one night, life is pretty darn good. I had thought that Perry said "F" was on stage and I figured that "G" was up next and so, I thought I'd have plenty of time to give IDB a fridge magnet. IDB had stepped outside to smoke a cigarette and I figured it would be a good time to chat for a moment. He'd had no idea I was a comic and I kinda liked that about him. We were in the middle of a brief conversation when I heard Perry call my name. Yikes! I had to hit the stage more quickly than I'd thought. Turns out, my set rocked and I sang the latest version of White Girl Rap. Here are the words to that, btw: Is there a dust mop in the house? Is somebody sleeping with my spouse? I've got three kids and one baby daddy in a single family home in the San Fernando Valley. Cooking for my family brings me so much joy; so does looking at the new pool boy. I go to the pot store down at the corner, eat a brownie, come home, read Little Jack Horner. My Mexican gardener has a mower that you push; e comes once a week just to mow my bush. I wash my dishes and my trash can lids. My Spanish-speaking nanny takes care of my kids. I'm a housewife in the San Fernando Valley. I'm a white girl in the San Fernando 'hood. * The song was a smashing success. A girl with the last name of "Kellogg" asked me if I have more songs on YouTube. I tried later to remember her first name--the last was pretty easy to remember and yes, she (and her brother, whom I also met) told me that it was spelled just like with the cereals. I really wanted to add her on FB and my life would have been more simple if I'd stayed talking with her and remembered her first name so that I could add her and totally ditched the IDB. She was great for my ego, but did not seem to want to sleep with me. That was exactly where I wanted to be in my self-imposed celibacy. I didn't really want to sleep with anyone. Still, IDB started talking with me and wanted me to go to the bar with him and have another drink. Well, at this point, being that my limit is two alcoholic drinks while I'm out of the GH or VV, I chose a Coke. I was flattered. Totally flattered. I'm in bars all the time, but really, how often does a guy ever asked me to sit with him at a bar?!? Not often. It's been years, in fact. I was all choked up. Nonetheless, we sat together and he was talking really loudly. I realized then and there that he looks at this bar thing much differently than I do. It's where I work. The people there were mostly comics, mi compadres, yes--my colleagues. I love them, which is one reason that I don't sleep with them (You can watch my latest video, "If I Were To Have Sex With A Comic," produced by the awesome Drewin Young, a.k.a. Drew the Documentary Guy (DDG) at http://www.youtube.com/trishcomicmom.). But to IDB, it was just a bar. And so, during the fabulous Ron Swallow's set, this guy was talking very loudly to me and I was trying to listen without saying a word, being that Ron was on stage and I didn't want to interrupt his set, as IDB was already trying to do. IDB got a little softer, especially when I responded to him in a very soft voice or by nodding. By the time Richie the C got up on stage, after Ron, I had stopped listening to IDB and started listening to Richie. It was almost 1 a.m. and I really was out past my bedtime, soon in danger of turning into a pumpkin, of course. IDB said things like, "Isn't that the 'kaboom' guy?!?" And indeed it is. Listening to Richie's jokes about how he's killed women on a more literal level than occurs at a comedy show is funny, but even as I write this sentence, I'm thinking that it's hard to describe Richie's serial killer jokes--you kinda just have to be there. At this point, I had also placed a bar stool between IDB and me. He'd kept trying to touch me and I found that very annoying. He also had lots to say about my accent and when I told him that I have a master's degree, I think he was totally and completely freaked. I don't think that he believed a Southerner could have an advanced degree. "You're not a stereotypical Southerner," he said, or that's a pretty close paraphrase. I absolutely hate it when Yankees say this kind of crap, or even when they think it.  As I said, it was getting close to 1 a.m. and my comedy friend Dinah was close to going on stage (I had thought that she was going up when Richie went up, but she was after him); I needed to get home. IDB was walking to his car and I thought I'd go ahead and walk out with him. I'm really sorry that I missed Dinah's set, but I really wanted to go home. It takes me about two hours to wind down after a comedy show and contrary to IDB's thoughts (he was just amazed that as a stay-at-home homeschooling mom, I don't have anything to do all day, but merely sit around and eat bon bons all day--yeah, right), I really had stayed out past my bed and relaxation time and I needed to get home. IDB and I walked out together and of course, turned out we'd parked right close to each other, right across the street from each other, in fact. He wanted me to go back to his place "for a few hours." Well, that would have put it around 6 a.m., right?!? And sure, I would have been great the next day. Absolutely wonderful. A real bitch. Besides, I'd just met this guy, right?!? I possibly would have done that sort of thing before I had kids, but, flattered as I was by the offer, I really just wanted to go to the safety of the GH and chill. I did find him on FB and added him. The next day, he messaged me his phone number and told me to call him if I get "frisky." I asked him if he ever liked to just simply chat, but he didn't reply to that. In fact, he has now defriended me and is no longer even available, i.e., when I pull up all the people with his name (and there are a few), he is not on the list. Granted, he was sort of a Yankee a$$hole at the bar, but he and I also had some nice conversation and he seemed like a nice guy on FB, i.e., he seemed to have real friends and he is a dad, which is cool. He seemed to have a problem with the fact that I am legally married, although not enough of a problem that he didn't want me to sleep with him. He asked a lot of thought-provoking questions about things that I thought he might be fun to talk with him again. But no, I won't be doing that. So, I won't have him making fun of the way I talk (okay, that was annoying) and I've totally blocked his phone number from my cell phone (I didn't give him my home phone, thank goodness). He might just think twice before he buys another girl a drink. And I got an exercise in how very thankful I am to be doing comedy with the security of a family and home in the SFV. Or to use a chemistry metaphor, I'm so very thankful that I'm not a free radical anymore. Fortunately, I don't have to be out alone looking for a guy. When I'm out, it's to do the business of comedy, which I totally love. I also appreciate having my comedy friends, a couple of whom might even have beaten him up if he'd tried to be more forceful. In the end, I learned that I am thankful to be who I am: a white girl who does some comedy in the San Fernando 'hood. It's definitely worth rappin' about. *You'll note, of course, that this is not an autobiographical song. For instance, I don't have a nanny taking care of my kids all day, although that would be oh, so tempting at times. I don't have a pool boy or a Mexican gardener. And I've never read Little Jack Horner. (Comment on this)
Friday, March 16th, 2012
9:09 pm	Friday Night Thoughts Surely I can come up with better titles for my blog entries than this, but then again, maybe not. It is Friday night, after all, and I am having lots of thoughts. And so, here I am.  For the record, I did buy a bottle of wine last night. I know I haven't done that in almost a month now and really, I don't think it's going to lead me down the same path as NB, who got a DUI last week, but then again, I do need to be careful. I kinda like not drinking so much and I sure didn't buy another bottle tonight. I guess the thing with NB really has me a little bit pi$$ed, but then again, I'm not really dependent on him or anyone else to stop drinking, or to cut back, as I've been doing. And I knew what I was getting into when I allowed him to visit VV, which he really and totally wanted to do. We became good friends, or so it felt like, and I really enjoyed talking with him. He filled a void in my life, at least for a little while. He has a wife and a girlfriend, as I may have mentioned before, and so, I found that very interesting, of course. Still, I wasn't prepared for the abrupt end to our friendship that came when he was fired and lost the use of his phone. There were several things he didn't tell me, including that his girlfriend pays for his cell phone and that he always called and texted me from his work phone. Sure, that should have been a clue for me to run, run, run away from this friendship, but I tend to be intrigued by people who seem more screwed up than I am and so, I hung in there as his friend, until they took his phone away. If you're like a part of me, you're saying at this point, "What a Loser! The guy can't even afford his own phone!" And yes, that is a certain trait for a loser. NB has a real gift, it seems, for self-sabotage, perhaps a bigger gift even than I have for it. Turns out his company was planning to schedule a flight for him to go and interview for a better job, the day after he got the DUI. And so, that's a real shame, but then again, his life had gotten way too complicated for him, it seems. Here he was with a wife that he's been separated from, a girlfriend who's so possessive and insecure that she didn't want him reading my blog, and a drinking problem. See how complicated that is?!? More even than my life. Unfortunately, he's added a DUI and job loss to the mix. And so, his friendship was certainly a diversion for me. But now, we are back to reality, back to the GH and VV and everything that those things hold. NB, last I heard, was planning to move in with his girlfriend. She has a reputation for being possessive, btw--I have heard that from a quite reputable person. For him to give up his friends for her seems a bit much. Oh well. The boys also got to be quite close to his son and now, being that he is so very dependent on Possessive GirlFriend (PGF), my guess is that they won't be able to see the son again. He is in such dire straits that he's using PGF's car to get around. Oy! Please stop me from making friends like this. I knew him in high school, but I think at that time he was driving his own car. Well, I guess that nobody can say I'm not open-minded when it comes to friends. N.C. State beat San Diego State today, 79-65, which thrills me, especially after that loss to UNC in the ACC tournament. I was trying to cook supper and find the game and I didn't know that it had been on earlier today and SF comes in, without so much as a word about anything, finds the score, and shares it with the boys. I'm not sure why this pi$$ed me off so much, but it did. I think it was the total disregard for my feelings and the total lack of wanting to be in the flow of what we were doing. It was the mere "I'll solve this problem" attitude when he heard that we were wondering about the NCSU game. Not that I don't like problem solvers; I just didn't need one right then. It seemed rude to me, but then again, I felt as though if he'd had any connection with me, if he'd communicated with me at all, he would have let me wait the extra five minutes that it took for me to stop what I was doing and look up the score. Or he would have asked. Or something. From his perspective, it may have well seemed that he was doing me a favor, but from my perspective, he was not. I know I'm not at all the easiest person to live with, but SF has so little connection and communication with me and then, for him to come in and look up the score and tell the boys . . . well, it was too much for me somehow. I didn't handle it very well, but then, I really felt as though he'd done a rude thing to me. Perhaps the thing that I got the most pi$$ed about is that he didn't bother to say hello or how was your day or you really suck or anything. Anything. There is not much olive branch extension going on at the GH and I'm probably as guilty as anyone, although I do like to ask how things are going. But then, that part really hasn't changed so much since we've been separated. Or before. There was never much "How was your day?" and I guess I was okay with that, but now, I really need somebody, an adult, to ask me that. Part of me wants to tell myself: You are separated from him. What do you expect? And so, I am thankful that he makes good money and is wonderful about paying for stuff.  I don't have to worry about going to the grocery store and not being able to pay for stuff. I also get to be with my children all day and teach them. For that, I am very thankful. But as far as an adult relationship goes, I am extremely lonely. There are certainly worse things than being lonely, though. Being on welfare is one of those things. We certainly are working together to pay of our debts and I have done a lot in the budget-making department to make sure all that is happening. It's not as if I sit around eating bon-bons all day, although you wouldn't know that by the amount of weight I have gained. I sure don't have the answers, but having friends with more complicated lives than mine certainly seems to make my life more bearable. I read a quote once about how there is nothing that makes a person more miserable or happy than comparison. And so, I guess I'm being really shallow here and finding someone like NB, who has a much more complicated life in comparison, and I'm making friends with him. Perhaps that's how I deal with my lonely marriage. Tonight, Eleven and I were going to an astronomy program about Jupiter and Venus. They are very close together these days and I have been quite intrigued by their close relationship. I wanted to learn more. We drove all the way up to Calabasas, but the guy in charge of the program met us at the gate to the park and told us that the program had been cancelled because of cloudy weather. Sure enough, I hadn't bothered to notice that you can't even see Jupiter and Venus in tonight's SoCal sky. Evidently, I wasn't the only person not to notice this as others were there for the program as well. Oh well. I sure can't do a thing about the weather, can I?!? (Comment on this)