You Bought WHAT?

Sometimes I open up closets or drawers and see something I no longer use. Usually because it didn't work, I couldn't return it, or I just didn't have the heart to throw it away or donate it. Because it cost money and I felt bad that I wasted that money.

I don't know what I'm waiting for because it's doubtful the item is going to miraculously start working or my body is going to spontaneously revert back to a Size 2. (Is it, God? Because I'll wait if that's in my future. TIA.)

I'm convinced everyone has one or two of these purchasing disasters sitting in their home.

My main disaster is a wireless mouse. Granted, I bought it off EBay and it was very cheap, $6.25, and I should have known better. But at the time I could no longer function with a mouse CORD. Oh my God, the problems I have.

From the moment it arrived there was trouble. It came with a USB 2.0 port and it was rumored to be inside the actual mouse. I was never good at Hide and Seek but seriously, INSIDE the mouse? Do you want me to kill myself?

So I entered into an email exchange with the sellers of this item, NOT pictured below. (That one is by Logitech and looks hale and hearty and blue! Mine is a CPI, which probably stands for CAN'T POSSIBLY iWORK and is cheap, black, and made out of Chinese plastic.) Our emails were like the Hunt for Red October, wherein the USB port is the submarine and I'm Jack Ryan. The poor guy on the other end of our correspondence, if you can call begging a type of correspondence, must have thought I was born without a brain. If there's a Nobel in Patience, I nominate that guy.


Then I finally found it, set it up and it didn't work. It has never worked. So Mr. Mouse sits in a drawer making me feel bad. And yes I know no one can make you feel bad and that you do that by yourself but IT MAKES ME FEEL BAD.

What's your shopping disaster?

The First Time I Was Mistaken For A Hooker

The first time implies there were other times. There were, which is one of 10 reasons I probably should revisit therapy. My looks, makeup, and clothes don't scream hooker. At least not to me. Apparently others disagree.

I dated The Doctor for three years and was madly in love with him because he was kind of a genius, having invented a baby heart monitor among his many achievements. He raced Formula Atlantic cars in Lime Rock, Connecticut and Watkins Glen, NY and we were both enamored of the more powerful F-1 cars. So one year we flew from NY to California to catch the Long Beach Grand Prix.  The high-pitched whine those engines make when they streak in front of you raises your blood pressure and probably your cholesterol. It's very sexual. Not the cholesterol part.

The Doctor in his Formula Atlantic. The worst race I ever witnessed was when his car spun around 4 times on the track and came to a dead stop and he didn't move his head. Eventually he took off his helmet and raised a thumb's up. Later, other drivers told me he was a horrible driver and would probably die in his car. Fun guys.

Me being instructed in the pace car by The Doctor's race team:

The Grand Prix was spectacular and afterward we went to an auto show to see the new Lamborghini's, Ferrari's, and other cars I couldn't afford but he could. Everything was fine until The Doctor decided we should spend our second night in California at a friend's house. This friend of his turned out to be a very pretty girl named Dakota. She lived with her boyfriend so naturally this made The Doctor assume we should swap partners. SURE, WHO DOESN'T DO THAT WITH OUT-OF-TOWN GUESTS? He hadn't seen Dakota in many years and now that he was balding, and still short, I thought for sure she wouldn't be interested. I was wrong. He was rich and rich trumps bald and short. And her boyfriend was all in. I thought it was horrible that both he and my boyfriend would even think of lending their girlfriends like we were in a bookmobile and could be returned the next day. But as I aged, which I'm not by the way, I realized men are the real whores and are always looking for strange.

The Doctor and I got into a fight over the swapping. A big fight. A fight so huge that I called information to get the number of a local cab company and then sneaked out of the house with my purse and small overnight. I had the cab driver drop me at the Beverly Hills Hotel because it was the only hotel I'd heard of. I checked in after midnight. As the hotel clerk gave me my room key, a man came up behind me and also checked in.

I unpacked, turned on the TV, and raided the mini-bar. Mercifully I've blocked out how much I took from the mini-bar because, hello, the Beverly Hills Hotel. 

Sidebar: The next morning I called my sister Lindy, who lived in Santa Monica, and asked her to come stay with me. We ordered room service and the only thing I remember from our breakfast was that a glass of orange juice was $5.00. In 1981. I was young then and had credit cards that weren't maxed out. That's not going to last, Suzy. Stop drinking orange juice in California.

The room phone rang. No one knew where I was so I assumed it was the front desk. 

"Hello."

"Hi."

"Who's this?"

"I checked into the hotel after you."

"Oh yeah, I saw you."

"I thought you might want some company."

"What? How did you get this number?"

"I looked over your shoulder and saw your room number."

If you know anything about hotel check-ins, and having spent over 20 years on the road as a standup comic I do,  I can assure you that even the cheesiest hotel does not routinely let guests see other guests' room numbers. This is how serial killers get started and your grief stricken family ends up on Dateline NBC. I hung up on him and called the front desk.

"Did you give my room number to that asshole who checked in behind me?"

"Miss, please...I can assure you there are no people like that in this hotel."
"Well, some asshole just called me and said he checked in after me so who the hell was that?"
"I don't know miss, maybe a friend of yours?"
"I don't know any ASSHOLES." Of course this was a total lie because I was currently dating one. "I just got here and can assure you I did not give out this room number to anyone. So he probably followed me because you gave him my room number and OH MY GOD, do you think I'm a prostitute?"

"You only had a small bag...and checked in very late."

I hung up on him, too. I looked down at my clothes. Jeans and a t-shirt. You know, your basic prostitute-y outfit.

My Best (Shoe) Friends

I used to have a large shoe collection. Not a Sarah Jessica Parker Shoe Collection but a significant enough one for someone who doesn't have a job. I had a big closet in my old apartment and the shoes and boots filled up both sides. I wouldn't go so far as to say that shoes were my life, because then my bags would feel left out, but shoes were a big part of it.

These are from my old apartment. I didn't get all of them in the shot because some wanted to remain anonymous. See the little red bottle in the middle shelf of the big shoe holder on the right? I kept the requisite shoe maintenance equipment with them at all times, in case of emergency. You never know when two shoes could break out in fisticuffs. And then where's that emergency repair kit? Exactly.

But then tragedy struck and I needed ankle surgery. I know; tragedy is usually not defined as anything that compromises your Loehmann's shopping trips but it was a tragedy to me. I suddenly was unable to hike. I could barely walk. There was something very wrong with my right foot. The doctor calmly informed me my right ankle had lost all its cartilage.

I said, "WHAT?" also.

He asked me how I did it, as if he expected me to reply I'd purposefully banged the heel of my right foot on a manhole cover over and over for 20 years. You know, like you do when you're in love. Or incarcerated with no chance of parole.

So he rebuilt my right heel and gave me an arch I didn't ask for. He gave me one anyway, even though my other foot didn't have one. Don't tell me I should have had a second opinion; he was my fourth opinion.

I find it interesting that my doctor didn't want to be photographed. This is what I looked like after the surgery. I couldn't walk for four months and yes, that was my scooter. FOR FOUR MONTHS.

Once I started walking again, my shoes became my enemy. I gave most of them away. I held shoe giveaways on this blog and cried at the post office while standing in line with my carefully wrapped packages. I'm sure most of them arrived waterlogged.

No more spiky heels, no more 5 inch boots. I eventually stopped looking for shoes. Stopped shopping in general. It was too depressing to find a great dress only to realize I'd have to look for amazing shoes and probably wouldn't find any that were easy to walk in and didn't hurt.

And then I discovered the Orthaheel.

"Invented by leading Australian podiatrist Phillip Vasyli and recommended by Leading wellness physician Andrew Weil, all products feature the built-in, lightweight biomechanical Orthaheel footbed that supports your feet while helping to realign the lower legs and improve posture. Every style is made with a durable rubber outsole with wave-patterned tread that helps improve traction on hard or wet surfaces."

The Fitflop from Sole Provisions had the orthaheel and comes in a ton of pretty summer color combos. See that built-in arch? I didn't NEED to have one installed in my foot - at a cost of $12,000 - had I discovered this shoe first. It's like walking on air.

 

And these, also from Sole Provisions, solved the problem of cute + comfortable. Everyone who knows me well also knows I'm a sucker for anything animal print.

And these I love love love. They remind me of the colors you'd see on an African Safari. Even though I've never been on an African Safari, the dark green and sand combo reminds me of one anyway. I might be thinking of Miami, though.

Dear women of America: You will sadly discover that as you age, (which I'm not, by the way) that neither your knees nor your ankles will support high heels anymore. Because bearing children and going through menopause isn't enough, apparently.



This was a sponsored post by the lovely people at Sole Provisions. All the above shoes can be found on their website plus many, many more. Go. Look. Buy.

The Winner Of My Book IS:

The winner of the Kindle copy of my book, Celebrity sTalker is Terri! I've spent all weekend trying to load the Random Picker Thingy graphic but when I do, then BLOGGER won't let me type in the Typing Box Thingy. There were 10 names eligible for the drawing. Everyone else had already bought the book or read it and one person entered two comments. So I entered 10 names starting with 1 and the Random Picker Thingy chose number 5. Congratulations Terri! Go to hell, Blogger!

Win A Copy Of My Book, Celebrity sTalker

Are you one of the people who haven't read my book because you'd rather feed your kids and get pedicures? I'M ON TEAM FEED THE KIDS AND GET PEDICURES! So here's your chance to read it. For Free. I'm giving away a Kindle copy! Because next to Mother Teresa, I'm a giver. (maybe in another lifetime.)

Sidebar: You don't have to own a Kindle to read on a Kindle. You can download Kindle's free app to your computer, tablet, or phone. I'm not being sponsored by Kindle to say this. (I wish I was because I could use the money.) Go to the above link and down on the right sidebar you'll find an option to download the free app.

All you have to do to win my book is leave a comment and I'll pick a winner by July 15. Leave as many comments as you want. Try to leave them in English. No one likes a smart-ass.

My book has 68 Amazon reviews. Only one of them sucks. A woman from Florida. Probably another humor writer. Stupid humor writers. Stupid Florida.

20 Things My Mother And I Have Argued About

Since she arrived at my apartment two weeks ago, these are some of the arguments my mom and I have had:


1. Whether orange bougainvillea was in fact orange bougainvillea.

2. Why the 8 ounces of water I make her drink twice a day with her medication is in a glass so big she’s never seen a glass that big ever in her entire life am I trying to drown her.

3. How sponges work.

4. The fruit flies in my kitchen should pay rent there are so many of them.

5. Who shut down the online Mah-jongg game when they should have checked with her first to see if she was done playing.

6. The guy who parks next to me is probably glad I had my car washed.

7. Why did it take me so long to get my car washed.

8. We need to stop eating tilapia.

9. Why I eat in front of my computer and will probably die there.

10. That the people on So You Think You Can Dance really can’t dance if you call that dancing.

11. Why don’t I hang up paintings over the couch only hobos live like that.

12. Whether the woman at Bank of America wrote down her password and will try to get into her account because she looks shifty and is Russian and mom is part Russian and knows shifty when she sees it.

13. Why am I forcing her to go to the LaBrea Tar Pits when everybody but me knows she hates fossils.

14. Who moved her coffee cup.

15. Who moved her dish.

16. Who moved her glass.

17. Who moved my coffee cup.

18. Who moved my dish.

19. Who moved my glass.

20. Who drank all the wine.

(21.) me

How NOT To Get A Job Off The Internet.

Matt Groening, the creator of The Simpsons, summed up Hollywood the best when he said, "It's all about greed, ego, stupidity, and insecurity." Those words could very well sum up a man I was working for a few weeks ago, a man named Rasool Verjee.

I've been lucky to get many jobs off the Internet, everything from content creator for Uproar Entertainment, my monthly joke writing job and The Taboo Show to my book deal for Celebrity sTalker. But I was surprised to get contacted from LinkedIn. People joke about that site but it's currently the biggest and most successful provider of resumes on the web.

Rasool wanted me to read his screenplay, a comedy. A person who reads a screenplay for free here in Hollywood is as rare as O.J. Simpson offering to pay off his civil lawsuit to Fred Goldman. I've written three of them, plus nine teleplays. I've written standup and blog posts and a memoir and essays but by far the hardest of all to write is the screenplay.

So I said I would read it and give him a one-sheet (critique) in return. We agreed on a price. After he asked me for a 10% discount, which I granted.

So here's how our email exchanges went down: I asked for a check but realizing he was in Canada, (although the phone number he lists as a Canadian one is actually a number in Beverly Hills) suggested he PayPal me since U.S. Banks remove a portion of your spleen to cash a foreign check. He wrote back:

"Suzy, I have a US account at Chase. Let me know. Thanks for getting back to me. Will confirm or not shortly. Was looking for more help with some rewriting."

Then wrote this:

"Okay done! Sending the script now. Please send me your bank details. Appreciate your advice."

I sent him my bank details and "Rasool, when the check clears I'll send notes, ok?"

He wrote back:

"Sure sounds good. Would prefer to email transfer if that works. Anyway will get it done."

An email transfer? I was unaware you could stick a check in an email and send it to someone. Thinking he meant a wire transfer from bank to bank, I asked for clarification and got this in return:

"Love to know when you have read it."

I wrote back: Did you send the check yet? Because at this point I'd started to read his script and it had so many problems I knew I couldn't list them all in a one-sheet. I already had 3 pages of notes and was not going to give him any notes without getting paid. And then suddenly this email:

"I am going to give the money to a friend who is here from Rochester. As I don't have a cheque and a wire is $30! I will confirm. Please go ahead and read! As you said no notes till you get the money. I won't stiff you!"

Didn't have a check? What happened to the Chase bank he said he had? I started to feel bad about the deal. And him. Something was wrong. Something was off.

"Suzy where are you located? New York. It looks like I will be in NY next week."

WHAT? My LinkedIn profile clearly states I live in Los Angeles. I wrote back and said that I lived in LA.

"Aha! Okay. Why did I think NY. Do you use pay pal?"

Aside from the fact that I already told him he could PayPal me I wrote back and said that I did but for him to add $3.00 to the total to make up for PayPal taking funds away.

"Oki doki! When do you think you will be done?"

I told him that as soon as the money cleared I'd send the notes.

I heard nothing from him for days. Suspicious of his silence, I emailed him to say I'd finished the script. And that there were problems. There are ALWAYS problems with scripts. Like with all writing, nothing is ever perfect until the 12th of never draft. Not to mention that a script in development is rewritten so many times by so many writers that it often doesn't even resemble the original. But was his script in development? I doubted it. He didn't even use screenplay software and that, right off the bat, was a sign this was an amateur project. Rasool wrote back:

"Thanks Suzy - just trying to get my damn PayPal to work. Ughhhh. By the way did you like the story? Sounds there is some work to be done. But can it be fixed and made into a great script."

At this point I realized Rasool was never going to pay me because he really didn't want feedback on his script; he's one of those writers who thinks it's already perfect and is just sending it out for confirmation of this. Many first-time writers make this mistake. Good writers have self-doubt about their work, worry about it, test-drive it with everyone they know. They agonize over one sentence, or one scene, or sometimes over one word. It's what makes them good writers.

So, do you know who this guy is who can't "work" PayPal ? According to his LinkedIn profile he's Rasool J Verjee Success Messenger and Millionaire Coach.

MILLIONAIRE COACH!

I googled him and discovered an interview he gave where he mentions his script, how he's already got the star AND THE MONEY and is ready to go into production! Do you have any idea how much money it takes to go into production? About twenty million for a low budget indie. And most of his script takes place in Kenya so how cheap is that going to be? If he had this money why was he still sending out his script for critique?

The man is in his 60s and there's no way anyone in Hollywood is going to develop a script by an old man. If you know anything about this town, it's that they hate anyone over the age of 28. According to his IMDb he produced something in the 1990s and that's not a track record he could take to the Hollywood Bank. At that point it occurred to me he thought I might have liked his script and used my contacts to help him. I felt sorry for him if he thought that's how Hollywood worked. Especially since he was stiffing me on a written contract. If he lived in LA I'd haul his ass into small claims court. And I would win. Emails are the new written contract proofs, Rasool.

So who is this guy? One of the original founders of Lavalife. The online dating site. Which was sold for quite a bit of money when it changed hands. And how much money were Rasool and I negotiating? What massive amount of money was tying up his stock options and accountants? What was forcing him to transfer funds from a Swiss bank account to an off-shore bank account?

$100. One hundred dollars.

Plus the 10% discount he asked for.

$90. That's what one of the founders of Lavalife, a millionaire coach, and movie producer couldn't afford.

I never answered his last email. I never sent the notes.

L.A. Sign Of The Times #107

Only in L.A.:

 

Stuff That Can Make You Rich

While some of us are busy writing books, raising children, working, or trying to find jobs, others of us have taken Easy Street straight to the bank. I am not one of those people.

I saw this on The Doctors and is it just me or has that show lost its focus?

Then the Brits,Canadians, Australians, New Zealanders, and others who can't keep a U out of words that aren't supposed to have an extra U had to have their own towel so we have this:

And speaking of night terrors, am I the only one who goes to the bathroom in the middle of the night and is CONVINCED that something like this is going to happen? Only with a Boa? And not the kind you throw around your neck and wear to a gay pride parade:

I'm curious as to when you'd need these. Especially since the box says "Just Grab & Go!" Do you keep a box in your car? Your office? Because having them at home means you'd need them only if you hadn't done laundry and I wonder where I can buy some:

While this may be perfect for a kid's bathroom, you'd have to pray your kids didn't fill it with ketchup, or gravy, or diarrhea. There, now we're all gagging. 

WHERE IS THE TOP OF YOUR WIFE, SIR?

This sums it all up nicely, don't you think?

What Literary Agents Hate About Your Writing

Since my first book, Celebrity sTalker, was published, I've spent a lot of time on writer websites, figuring out what I did right, and what I did wrong. One of the following is what I did "wrong" but too late now! If you read my book, see if you can figure out which one.

AND ATTENTION ALL SMART-ALECKS: I DID NOT WRITE A CHRISTIAN NOVEL.

FALSE BEGINNINGS:

“I don’t like it when the main character dies at the end of Chapter 1. Why did I just spend all this time with this character? I feel cheated.” - Cricket Freeman, The August Agency

“I dislike opening scenes that you think are real, then the protagonist wakes up. It makes me feel cheated.”
- Laurie McLean, Foreword Literary


IN SCIENCE FICTION:

“A sci-fi novel that spends the first two pages describing the strange landscape.” - Chip MacGregor, MacGregor Literary


PROLOGUES:

“I’m not a fan of prologues, preferring to find myself in the midst of a moving plot on page 1 rather than being kept outside of it, or eased into it.” - Michelle Andelman, Regal Literary

“Most agents hate prologues. Just make the first chapter relevant and well written.” - Andrea Brown, Andrea Brown Literary Agency

“Prologues are usually a lazy way to give back-story chunks to the reader and can be handled with more finesse throughout the story. Damn the prologue, full speed ahead!” - Laurie McLean, Foreword Literary


EXPOSITION/DESCRIPTION:

“Perhaps my biggest pet peeve with an opening chapter is when an author features too much exposition – when they go beyond what is necessary for simply ‘setting the scene.’ I want to feel as if I’m in the hands of a master storyteller, and starting a story with long, flowery, overly-descriptive sentences (kind of like this one) makes the writer seem amateurish and the story contrived. Of course, an equally jarring beginning can be nearly as off-putting, and I hesitate to read on if I’m feeling disoriented by the fifth page. I enjoy when writers can find a good balance between exposition and mystery. Too much accounting always ruins the mystery of a novel, and the unknown is what propels us to read further.” - Peter Miller, PMA Literary and Film Management

“The [adjective] [adjective] sun rose in the [adjective] [adjective] sky, shedding its [adjective] light across the [adjective] [adjective] [adjective] land.” - Chip MacGregor, MacGregor Literary

“I dislike endless ‘laundry list’ character descriptions. For example: ‘She had eyes the color of a summer sky and long blonde hair that fell in ringlets past her shoulders. Her petite nose was the perfect size for her heart-shaped face. Her azure dress—with the empire waist and long, tight sleeves—sported tiny pearl buttons down the bodice. Ivory lace peeked out of the hem in front, blah, blah.’ Who cares! Work it into the story.” - Laurie McLean, Foreword Literary


STARTING TOO SLOW:

“Characters that are moving around doing little things, but essentially nothing. Washing dishes & thinking, staring out the window & thinking, tying shoes, thinking.” - Dan Lazar, Writers House

“I don’t really like ‘first day of school’ beginnings, ‘from the beginning of time,’ or ‘once upon a time.’ Specifically, I dislike a Chapter 1 in which nothing happens.” - Jessica Regel, Jean V. Naggar Literary Agency


IN CRIME FICTION:

“Someone squinting into the sunlight with a hangover in a crime novel. Good grief — been done a million times.” - Chip MacGregor, MacGregor Literary


IN FANTASY:

“Cliché openings in fantasy can include an opening scene set in a battle (and my peeve is that I don’t know any of the characters yet so why should I care about this battle) or with a pastoral scene where the protagonist is gathering herbs (I didn’t realize how common this is).” - Kristin Nelson, Nelson Literary


VOICE:

“I know this may sound obvious, but too much ‘telling’ vs. ‘showing’ in the first chapter is a definite warning sign for me. The first chapter should present a compelling scene, not a road map for the rest of the book. The goal is to make the reader curious about your characters, fill their heads with questions that must be answered, not fill them in on exactly where, when, who and how.” - Emily Sylvan Kim, Prospect Agency

“I hate reading purple prose – describing something so beautifully that has nothing to do with the actual story.” - Cherry Weiner, Cherry Weiner Literary

“A cheesy hook drives me nuts. They say ‘Open with a hook!’ to grab the reader. That’s true, but there’s a fine line between an intriguing hook and one that’s just silly. An example of a silly hook would be opening with a line of overtly sexual dialogue.” - Daniel Lazar, Writers House

“I don’t like an opening line that’s ‘My name is…,’ introducing the narrator to the reader so blatantly. There are far better ways in Chapter 1 to establish an instant connection between narrator and reader.” - Michelle Andelman, Regal Literary

“Sometimes a reasonably good writer will create an interesting character and describe him in a compelling way, but then he’ll turn out to be some unimportant bit player.” - Ellen Pepus, Signature Literary Agency


IN ROMANCE:

“In romance, I can’t stand this scenario: A woman is awakened to find a strange man in her bedroom—and then automatically finds him attractive. I’m sorry, but if I awoke to a strange man in my bedroom, I’d be reaching for a weapon—not admiring the view.” - Kristin Nelson, Nelson Literary Agency


IN A CHRISTIAN NOVEL:

“A rape scene in a Christian novel in the first chapter.” - Chip MacGregor, MacGregor Literary


CHARACTERS AND BACKSTORY:

“I don’t like descriptions of the characters where writers make them too perfect. Heroines (and heroes) who are described physically as being virtually unflawed come across as unrelatable and boring. No ‘flowing, wind-swept golden locks’; no ‘eyes as blue as the sky’; no ‘willowy, perfect figures.’ ” - Laura Bradford, Bradford Literary Agency

“Many writers express the character’s backstory before they get to the plot. Good writers will go back and cut that stuff out and get right to the plot. The character’s backstory stays with them—it’s in their DNA.”
- Adam Chromy, Movable Type Management

“I’m turned off when a writer feels the need to fill in all the backstory before starting the story; a story that opens on the protagonist’s mental reflection of their situation is a red flag.” - Stephany Evans, FinePrint Literary Management

“One of the biggest problems is the ‘information dump’ in the first few pages, where the author is trying to tell us everything we supposedly need to know to understand the story. Getting to know characters in a story is like getting to know people in real life. You find out their personality and details of their life over time.” - Rachelle Gardner, Books & Such Literary


This list taken from Writer Unboxed, a great website for writers.

I Nominated This For The Shorty Awards And For My (mostly) Selfless Act Got A Mention In Buzz Feed

BuzzFeed

NYC Based Web Series Brings The Laughs

The Louise Log: A Comedy Web Series appeals to Louie and Curb Your Enthusiasm fans.

posted on April 3, 2013 at 5:03pm EDT by Axton Ruiz

Comedy web series are a dime a dozen these days. Largely due to the fact we all have camera phones and think "if so and so can do it, I can surely do it". In reality we should wait for the professionals and spare our family members from enduring our had-to-be-there comedy videos. After our wait we then face the difficult task of finding the comedic gem in the proverbial haystack my father calls "the internets". Well take a break from your funny cat videos and collegehumor.com fart jokes because I have found a web series with the comedy trifecta: consistency, relatability and hilarity. If you love Curb your Enthusiasm or Louie, check out "The Louise Log" web series.

"The Louise Log", created by Anne Flournoy, follows a Greenwich Village wife and mother as she struggles with her overactive inner voice. Each video explores Louise's attitude towards a variety of mundane topics. The topics range from picking your kids up from school, running into an old (and now more successful) friend or being perpetually late. The situations are unsurprising and relatable however Louise's reactions and inner-dialogue brings layers of laughter to the series. Flournoy has created a character defined by her awareness and attitude towards the world. It's Louise's world and we're just living in it.

Praised by iconic film critic Roger Ebert, notable playwright Eve Ensler and my favorite actress from Curb Your Enthusiasm, Suzy Soro, if you haven't heard of "The Louise Log" now is the time to get hip. The web series is already nominated for "Best Web Show" at the upcoming Shorty Awards so it's just amount of time before Fournoy hits the mainstream.

Don't miss an episode and subscribe at The Louise Log website. Or follow her on Twitter and Like her Facebook page.

Copyright © 2013 BuzzFeed, Inc.

How Many Mothers Does It Take To Drive You Crazy?

It’s said that you never understand your mother until you become a mother yourself. Unless you count my helicopter parenting of my dog in 1990 I never became a mother. At least not the kind that wasn’t followed by the F word.

I grew up in Maryland, south of the Bacon-Dixon Line as my sister Lindy used to call it, and you don’t know humiliation as a teenager in the suburbs until you’re at the mall and your French mom yells across a crowded store, “Suzeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, we finally found a brassiere small eeeeenough for you.”  A French mom, just what every teenager needs to match her acne and double A cup bra.

Although Mom speaks English, it’s not her first language so some words still elude her:

MOM: If I'd had stinking balls I would have thrown zem at zose people.
ME: You mean a stink bomb?
MOM: Oui mon Dieu, STINKING BALLS.

and...

ME: How are you this morning?
MOM: Not gude, I was reaching for somesing and injured my rotating cup.
ME: You have a cup that rotates?
MOM: Don’t you know anysing about anatomy?

And she doesn’t understand idioms at all. At my 8th birthday party she told my little friends that “You can’t have your cake and eat it too” and they all burst into tears.

Talking on the phone with her requires enormous concentration and math skills. Recently she told me that "Things haven't been this bad since the end of the Civil War.” Apparently she's older than I thought. She’s lied about her age for so long that I’m now older than she is. She said she has a doctor's appointment on Dec 13, 1912. She'd better push that appointment up BECAUSE OH MY GOD HOW IS SHE STILL ALIVE?

When she makes her yearly pilgrimage from Paris to Los Angeles the first thing Mom notices is what's wrong with my hair; the first thing Mom doesn’t notice is my rage. She can never open her luggage upon arrival, the key is missing, lost, or stolen by the customs inspectors trying to make off with her 32 year-old house dress. Then she sighs and when my mother sighs, it's the sigh of a thousand failures, which the French perfected. She’s such an expert at it that once in a hotel room she sighed so loudly she inadvertently ordered room service. I always joke that I'm getting my mother a silver lining for her birthday. Really not a joke.

She stays six weeks with my sister and two weeks with me and Lindy and I live in the same city. She demands so much attention that my friends can’t reach me as I’m basically incommunicado, which is Latin for Close to a Nervous Breakdown. I’m not my mother’s favorite child, as you might have figured out by now. I figured it out after she gave me her wedding gown for my own marriage and she knows full well I look terrible in maternity clothes. I brought out my baby scrapbook one day and in a group picture from kindergarten asked Mom to pick me out. Apparently I was a Chinese kid

But the irritation goes both ways. Whereas I can sit in a chair for four days straight, mom can't sit still for two minutes. She starts dinner. At 11 am. She has this bad habit of opening a window wherever she is: a car, your home, in every room. Needless to say I'm afraid to fly with her. She snores as rhythmically as a metronome so it's really too bad I don't play a musical instrument. She always calls me by my sister's name during phone calls but when we hang up I make sure to say, "Goodbye Dad." And Mom, if you’re reading this, you can’t get Dad’s military pay because he’s been dead for ten years so NO I CAN'T CALL HIM FOR YOU.

I make fun of my mom a lot. In my act, on the Internet, and in real life. And the person who laughs the loudest is my mom. She’s a good sport about it all and I know she enjoys the attention. But it has occurred to me the reason she laughs is she probably doesn’t understand my jokes and wants to throw some stinking balls at my head.