Sunday, April 05, 2009

No Sweat

Someone sent me an email asking me why I hadn't put the Blogger's Choice badge on my blog. I didn't know I'd been nominated so thanks singlejane for nominating me for Best Whining Patient Blog. I'm going to sweep in that category. Please vote for me so I can go to Thailand and have my ear rocks removed. And now on to more important things.

I never sweat.

I never had B.O.

I never used deodorant.

The first time I played Vegas, after 9 years of doing standup, I got flop sweat, which is a panic reaction to bombing. But I only got it on my right side. My ENTIRE right side. My ankles were leaking. The hair on my right side was drenched in water. I looked like a Before and After shot from an infomercial on How Not To Wash Your Hair. I bought deodorant and then never used it because it never happened again. I was a One Time Only Sweat Machine.

But Vegas made sense. My left side was dry, controlled by the right brain, the artistic part of the brain; I always thought I was funny, especially when I was drunk. But the left, logical side of my brain was sober. My agent said since he was trying to get me on The Tonight Show that I couldn't do my normal act, I had to try new, more clever latenighttelevision jokes. It was my first year in L.A. and I didn't know that agents are assholes. But my left brain knew. It knew his advice would be suicide for my first time in Vegas. And it was. After 3 shows out of 7, I went back to my regular act but I'd already buried my ass at Wounded Knee by then.

Then I gave up drinking almost 6 years ago. And I'd walk around everywhere thinking, MAN, who the bloody fuck is on the B.O. Express to Showerland?

It was me. Had I been too drunk to SMELL? The only problem was the bottle of deodorant I bought in Vegas and never used now, after 10 years sitting in one of my old makeup bags, smelled like antiseptic skunk. And not in a good way.

I started wearing men's deodorant. Armani's Acqua di Gio. I often wear his men's cologne with the same name. Now I wear deodorant and I want a medal.

End of chat.


  1. Well, smmmeellll you, Sistah! ;)

  2. I could sent you a medal but it has a gymast on it doing a walkover or some crazy thing. Want it?

    As far as the stink? Just make sure everyone around you is smashed and you'll be fine. And perhaps burn some incense.

    Me? My sweat don't stink.

  3. geezz I just thought there was a dead cat or person in the wall... glad to know it was neither, I think...pickin chicken..nope didn't just call you a chicken either. ear rocks...I mean U rock!

  4. I had a friend, yes I did shut up, who smoked like a chimney with a load of tar. She quit smoking and wanted to know what that awful smell was everytime she went outside. I told her "fresh air". She looked at me and said smells more like fresh hell to me. Guess that chemicals have a way with messing up our smell factor.

  5. I'm glad you figured that out. For everyone's sake.

  6. I sweat (not on stage, though) but I don't stink when I do. My shit, however ...

  7. Well, that just stinks.

  8. As long as you're not leaking anymore you'll be fine. I think.