My New Year's Wish

I wish you all a hangover.

That's the least you can do for me since I stopped drinking.

End of 2008

L.A. Sign Of The Times #40

The McPoundersons

Surely you haven't forgotten the bitch slap post on my upstairs neighbors, have you? I'm not even going to bother to link it because their name says it all. They're professional hammerers or indoor oil drillers or people who test concrete shoes for the mob.

They're now going for the Hall of Fame.

They've removed their carpet and installed some sort of tile, which our new building manager says is ugly. Like that helps me. They've also installed a washing machine that is right over my bed. Their wooden picnic table and benches, which scream every time they're scraped in and out on the tiled floor, are also over my bedroom.

During 3 days of the loudest remodel in the world, I went blind.

I've heard they're pregnant and unless I'm mistaken, babies cry. And eventually bounce balls and scream obscenities at their parents. Or maybe that was just me. I asked another mother with grown children who in their right mind would install tile because of a baby and she replied,"Carpets can produce allergies." I grew up in an almost fully carpeted house and it's a MIRACLE I'M ALIVE. I tripped on a cord a few weeks ago and landed on my chin. Thank God there was carpeting or I would have split open my jaw. And bled to death on my way to the phone. Where 911 would probably have put me on hold.

I live in a singles building. No manager here has ever rented to couples with babies or small children. We have a pool with no winter cover, we have a bajillion stairs and our building has a courtyard with an echo so that when flies buzz in, it sounds like the Luftwaffe is passing over.

Sunday they had a child upstairs who ran back and forth training for the 2020 Olympics. Maybe they're practicing by babysitting? They're not going to make very good parents because they didn't try and trip the kid once. After hours of trying to write, I sent them an email because I was out of ammo.

Thank God for the Christmas sales.

End of chat.

It's Everybody Can Bite Me Friday!

3 down, 2 to go:

1. Halloween, no kids to steal candy from.

2. Thanksgiving, no gifts AND weight gain.

3. Christmas, I do not want the pity invitation so you will have someone to talk to your 400 year old grandfather. I'M NOT THAT OLD.

4. New Year's Eve, duh.

5. Valentine's Day, triple duh.

6. End of list

Smells Like Teen Friday

Go read all the Mommy Bloggers before you read this.

I'm not kidding. Go.

Get all the sweet pictures of everyone's little darlings wrapped in Christmas paper and sucking on dolls' toes and the dog wearing reindeer antlers into your systems first. I want you to have a reason to feel good about life before the disgust of my blog sets in and you tell me I need a hug or some other retarded thing. Please don't ever tell me I need a hug. Cash yes, hugs no.

Yesterday I caught an episode of the Duggar marathon, the people with 17 kids.

With a SAG strike looming, many shows KO'd by the writer's strike, producers are looking for more shows like this. The Duggars get paid, get tons of freebies and PR while actors and writers who've spent a lifetime honing their craft for peanuts, just for the love of the art form, watch with mouths agape at how ridiculous Hollywood has become. Yes, let's give the HOUSEWIVES OF THE O.C., NYC and ATLANTA tons of money because we all know how poor they are.

Producers are the equivalent of Bernard Madoff. Only it's corporate greed masquerading as entertainment. I hope they, along with Steven Spielberg (doesn't he have enough money that he had to go with Madoff too?) lose it all and one day have to look at life the way artists do. At least the Japanese and French have the right idea; make a huge financial mistake and then kill yourself.

Merry Christmas.

Now go check out Part 9 of my memoir, All The Bad Sex I've Had AND IN SPITE OF THAT WAS NOT IRRESPONSIBLE ENOUGH TO HAVE 17 KIDS.

Scrooge out.

Why Douche Is Not An Insult To Me

I’m half French and speak it and in French douche means ‘shower.’ So whenever I hear someone call another person a ‘douche.” I always think, Yeah, that’s brutal, dude. You shower.”

So I have to say douche bag. Which I quite enjoy.

And yes, the French bathe regularly and shave their armpits. I've been insulted by this lame prevarication since MIDDLE SCHOOL. It's what people do, bring others down to make themselves feel better.

Man, I have no idea how Polacks got through life. Now if you don't mind I'm going to watch a special on Yanni and the Baby Jesus. Because I'm out of Xanax.

End of chat.

And The Winner is....

This is the winner of the Ugly Item Of Clothing Contest. It was also the only entry so even though you all LIED to me all year about how EXCITED you were to enter this contest, it all came down to you're a bunch of liars. i.e. my kind of people.

So this poor lucky bastard wins this Tee Shirt. The very last in a series that Single, Married & Divorced printed. That dot on the shirt is from the camera and isn't on the shirt. No, I'm giving away my dirty laundry. Actually it's kind of a relief that all the contests are over. A year of shoe contests wiped out what little brain I had left. Then the Uproarious CD contests wiped out the rest. Beckie, the winner of one of the CD's is finally getting her prize and I'm also sending out the tee shirt, but AFTER Christmas, so I don't have to stand in line for 2 years. Health update, I'm walking better and my hands are still numb but I can use them more. But I still don't want to stand in line for 2 hours.

End of contests.

It's Everyone Can Bite Me Friday!

So much bitching, so little time. "Merry Christmas." I grew up saying it and "Happy Holidays" means we have to include Washington's Birthday, July 4th and Martin Luther King day.

I refuse.

If you're Jewish say Happy Hanukkah if you want. Same goes for Kwanzaa. But don't shame the rest of us by taking away what we like best. And if we can't threaten little kids with Santa's naughty or nice list, then you, the parent, are totally fucked. Child rearing is all about bossing the little people around. With Happy Holidays what are you going to say? "If you're not good this year I'm not taking you to the white sale at Macy's for Memorial Day?

This is one of my favorite pictures ever. Not the big one but the one below it of Leslie and her son J. Single, Married & Divorced was doing a photo shoot and at the end the photographer indulged Leslie with what was supposed to be a Christmas card shot. J, however, who was perfect throughout the shoot, decided he was done for the day.

Single, Married & Divorced

I came across this great quote in New York Magazine:

"Career women, especially those of a certain age, recognized themselves in Clinton and the reactions she provoked. "Maybe what bothers me most is that people say Hillary is a bitch," said Tina Fey in her now famous Bitch is the New Black skit. Let me say something about that: Yeah, she is. So am I...You know what? Bitches get stuff done. At least being called a bitch implies power."

I have to admit that I don't like mamby-pamby women or men. I love me some bitches. They're a lot more fun and I'm happy that I have so many who read this bitchy blog, including my gays, who are the best a bitch like me could hope for. Now bring us some dirty martinis and tell me which shoes go with this skirt.

My theatre mentor from Arena Stage in D.C., Robert Prosky, died last week at the age of 77. He was the one who urged me to audition for the main company and I got in and then turned it down because I was in love with a man who grew up, married a rich woman and played the guitar all day. Have I mentioned I have terrible taste in men?

Prosky was one of the best character actors in the business. He was also a sweetheart. My thoughts go out to his family.

And lastly, a girl in our building died. 32 years old, she had just gotten her first big movie role. Died of natural causes, apparently. Toxicology is being done now. She lived alone with her cat and eventually when her parents couldn't find her, they filed a missing person's report. She died 2 days after Thanksgiving and was found a week later when the police broke into her apartment. Her death brought up a few issues for many of us. For starters, the police lie, which they are allowed to do to get information. They told me everything was 'fine' when I asked what was going on in her apartment with 7 cops, 3 patrol cars, 2 Morgue vans and one Morgue car when in fact she was lying face down on her carpet, dead.

The girl who lived next door to her broke her lease and moved out because she was scared. She probably unwittingly moved into a new place where someone had died. Anyway Marissa, I wrote this to say you are not forgotten.

End of chat.

Robert Prosky

What Would Emma Do?

This new book is from one of my favorite authors and bloggy friends, Eileen Cook, the writer of the hilarious Unpredictable. which I profiled in a shoe contest.. Here's the press release for her new book, What Would Emma Do?

Thou shalt not kiss thy best friend’s boyfriend…again….

There is no greater sin than kissing you best friend’s boyfriend. So when Emma breaks that golden rule, she knows she’s messed up big-time. Especially since she lives in the smallest town ever, where everyone knows everything about everyone else….and especially because she maybe kinda wants to do it again. Now her best friend isn’t speaking to her, her best guy friend is making things totally weird, and Emma is running full speed toward certain social disaster. This is so not the way senior year was supposed to go.

Time to pray for a minor miracle. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s time for Emma to stop trying to please everyone around her, and figure out what she wants for herself.

What others are saying:

“Sassy and sly and sweet all at the same time, this book made me laugh out loud.” – Meg Cabot, author of the Princess Diaries

“Not since Judy Blume’s Margaret introduced herself to God has there been such a funny, geuine, conflicted, wanna-be-sort-good-maybe-later girl as Emma. Eileen Cook’s tone as she takes on the big ones – life, love, faith and friendship is pitch perfect.” – Jacqueline Mitchard, author of Deep End of the Ocean and Midnight Twins

“Smart and fun and full of heart.” – Sarah Mlynowski, author of Bras and Broomsticks

About the Author:

Eileen Cook spent most of her teen years wishing she were someone else or somewhere else, which is great training for a writer. When she was unable to find any job postings for world famous author, she went to Michigan State University and became a counselor so she could at least afford her book buying habit. But real people have real problems, so she returned to writing because she liked having the ability to control the ending. Which is much harder with humans.

You can read more about Eileen, her books, and the things that strike her as funny at http://www.eileencook.com/. Eileen lives in Vancouver with her husband and two dogs and no longer wishes to be anyone or anywhere else.

Buy the Book

A Day Of Harmony

A few weeks ago Jenny and her mom went scuba diving and I got Miss Harmony for the day. She's part Chihuahua and part Jack Russell and, like all mutts, very smart. She ran ahead of me while we went down the 3582 stairs. Then by the second set she went down one by one. She could see I had trouble. The second time we went for a walk she went down behind me, realizing I was struggling. Once outside I accidentally dropped her leash and it took me 3 steps to realize it and when I turned back in a panic, she was staring at me, waiting.

My sister's Shih-tzu, Yoshi, runs ahead of you on stairs and then gets to the sidewalk and decides to nap. Sometimes we have to drag him and he never goes where you want him to go. But when he stares at you, as he does often with me, it's cause he knows there's something wrong. And not just in my head.

Remember that old folks home in the news a while back? It had a cat that would lay in the bed of the next person to die. Yoshi slept like that in one of my sister's neighbors beds and she died the next day. When he comes near me while I'm lying down I use a fly swatter to keep him away.

Anyway, Harmony spent all day curled up in a ball until I caught her doing this behind my back:

"Where the hell is my mommy?"

"Mommy, are you there? It's me, Harmony, and I'd like to come home now. Call me back when you get this message. PLEASE!"

She fell asleep waiting for Jenny to call her back.

End of nap.

Something For All Of Us

Part 8 of my memoir is up at scrivel . That's the me part.

Here's the you part:

Subj: Comedy contest
Date: 12/8/2008 2:15:27 PM Pacific Standard Time
From: charlie.kondek@mslworldwide.com
To: suzysoro@aol.com

Hi, Suzy. I'm writing to tell you about something I thought would be of interest to you or your readers - a comedy writing contest. Philips Norelco is teaming up with FunnyorDie.com to find the best body grooming tales in a new scriptwriting contest. Two lucky winners will have their scripts, or “Manalogues,” professionally produced and posted to the award-winning Shave Everywhere Web site. http://www.shaveeverywhere.com/

Beginning December 3, 2008 and running through January 2, 2009 guys can submit their stories at ShaveEverywhere.com. I don't know if you've seen the Manalogues yet, from the same people that brought you "the bathrobe guy," but I hope you check it out. They're performed by Bryan Callen of MadTV. And you can check out the “Body Groomers Bare All” contest section on the site to see how the writers from Funny or Die tackled this hairy topic. Visitors to ShaveEverywhere.com will determine 10 finalists by popular vote from which two winners will be selected by the writers from Funny or Die. The grand-prize winner will receive an all-expenses paid trip to be on location in New York City for the script’s production, and one runner-up will score a selection of Philips consumer electronics and personal care products.

Thanks so much for your time! We're trying to let as many people as possible know about this in time to meet the deadline. Please let me know if you have any questions!

Best,

Charlie



Charlie Kondeck

Director of New Media Relations

a: 115 W. Liberty St., Suite 200, Ann Arbor, MI 48104 USA

o: 734-214-1550 x 101 f: 734-214-1551 m: 734-576-6754

e: charlie.kondek@mslworldwide.com

w: mslworldwide.com

It's Everyone Can Bite Me Friday!

I'm sorry I have to show you this but if ONE MORE PREGNANT BLOGGER SHOWS HER STOMACH ON THE INTERNET, then I can surely show you this.

I had dropped some weight. Over 20+ lbs down to 123. But it didn't occur to me that my Victoria's Secret pajamas with a tie string would no longer fit and almost expose the cooch. I told you I wasn't good at math. So I put them on in sub-zero Ohio weather and this is what I looked like. AND I'M NOT EVEN HOLDING IT IN. Not as gross as pregnant women showing their distorted stomachs but pretty darn close. What should I name my poochy stomach? McFatterstene?

Either that or I'm shrinking:

What was really annoying is that I sleep commando but not in their house. I would have turned into The Princess and The Ice Block.

Leslie's younger son F is 12. He has now set my camera so that it does what it's supposed to do and I no longer have to compress pictures before uploading. BUT HE DIDN'T TELL ME. I just found out when I took the P.J. pictures. The picture below is her older son J. He's 15 and was standing behind Leslie imitating her. Watch the video. She's yelling at me for not doing all my French jokes.

F took pictures in B&W and sepia because he clearly enjoyed the look of retardation on my face. He took all the pictures in Ohio.

He and J are both straight A students. J plays a stratocaster and has his own band and is the next Jimmy Page. I told F my hands were numb and he said, "You have nerve damage in your neck." I'm not sure my doctor knows that.

A picture of Leslie the way she always - ALWAYS - looks so she won't kill me for the picture above this one.

F the future Ansel Adams and neurologist.

I've known J since he was born, here in L.A. Leslie's husband is still handsome and plays a mean guitar himself. He worked with Loretta Lynn on the road and in the studio for over 20 years. Leslie wouldn't sing with him at a gig he had one night because he refused to learn her favorite songs. So she went home and raised the thermostat to 72. He finally noticed it the next day because there were no icicles hanging off our noses.

The kids DID introduce me to a very nice man while I was there:

If it's like all my other relationships, it'll last 3 years and then I'll wonder what the hell was I thinking?

End of chat.

Leslie's Backyard

These are their free-range chickens, which is Spanish for fat-free, tasteless and stringy. They eat air and snow and are the Nicole Ritchie of chickens:

These were the other two comedians on the bill with me: These are all "Outside Animals." They have 12 tons of fur and can't come indoors since then they wouldn't be able to cope outdoors and know I will shave them to make a throw out of their coats. You think this gorgeous calico below on the right would give me her coat? NO. Cats are really selfish.
This is Leslie's house, where all these animals live on 80 acres:

This is the barn where Leslie made me stay:

End of chat.

Let's Begin, Shall We?

This is my car.
This is Leslie's car.

This is the street behind my apartment.

This is the road behind Leslie's house. And the first person who says that road looks peaceful and bucolic gets a long distance hit on them from the mob. After I meet someone from the mob.

What's the ONE item from hell that I can't do? STAIRS. Leslie's house has 478 stairs. What's the other thing I don't do well? COLD WEATHER. It was 19 degrees in her town. What do I like to do inside? BE WARM. Leslie's husband and my father and every man on the planet keeps the thermostat at 60 degrees, in a big 4 bedroom house. They said otherwise their monthly bill would be $500. Who do I make the check out to?

More to come after I fold myself into the oven and warm up to 45 degrees.

End of chchchchat.

It Was Cold And I Don't Do Cold

As I was being driven to the Dayton Airport from St Mary's, Ohio at FOUR A.M., it decided to snow. Hard.

And believe me, I know hard.

No other cars on the road, the driver didn't know where his flashers were (New York Subway, duh) so, he turned the car around and I missed my flight. Oh goody, one more night in HELL.

I'd like to thank Northwest Airlines for putting me on a flight the next day with no change fee. As I talked to them they told me I was lucky to have missed the flight since it was going to Minneapolis where the weather was worse. Yesterday they had to de-ice the plane twice before they let us go.

I have MUCH more dish, including what is WRONG with Leslie's husband and how fabulous her kids are and how we also killed at the shows and how Leslie is trying to give me a heart attack.

The pics you send in HAVE to be yours. I can't accept stuff from the net, sorry, but they'll get the prize. ALSO, due to my readers comments, I'll accept hats, socks and gloves that are badly Christmased and any other stuff you think is ugly.

Please don't send me your neighbor's husbands.

Lots of pictures and bitching to come.

End of chat.

Hey Party Poopers

When are you going to start sending in your ugly Christmas sweater pictures? Did I mention it was THIS December and there are prizes?

I'm currently flying over some god forsaken part of the country and hate anyone who's sleeping right now. WHICH IS PROBABLY EVERYONE.

Remember the good old days, when Britney was psycho and then disappeared from sight? WHY IS SHE BACK? Who can I call to STOP THIS? Miley Cyrus?

End of chat.

In Case You Get Laid Off And Need A Hobby

This wood carving is a miniature of the Cathedral of Ulm in Germany and has 4267 separate pieces and was last valued at $115,000. In the 1960's.

I hate cold weather and I'm heading straight for it. It's supposed to be 40 degrees in Ohio and that's just wrong. At night it goes down to 27 and that's unforgivable. Gloves, hats, scarves, coats, sweaters, layering clothes and get this -BOOTS THAT CAN BE WORN IN THE SNOW? What kind of crazy shit is that?

I want to thank anyone who is following my novel and the other writers at scrivel. My latest entry is up now. Last month scrivel had over 40,000 page views!! Some people are printing my memoir out so they can read it all at once. These are the crazy people you should avoid at a Wal Mart opening on a Black Friday.

End of chat.

Ohio India Hillary

I'm doing two shows in Ohio this weekend.

Friday night I'll be at Romer's Catering Entertainment Complex in Greenville, Ohio. Dinner is at 6:30. Show is at 8:00 PM - $27 per person, which is totally worth it since I'M GOING TO BE THERE.

Saturday I'll be at Romer's Catering on the Westbank, Celina, Ohio. Same times and prices. There will be 200+ people so if you do make it to either show, come and find me and I'll buy you and a friend a drink. Unless you prefer sex.

LOOK AT THIS!

Dear Suzy

We are all fine - thanks for your concern.

I was at mumbai airport on 26th night travelling to Indonesia as Faculty at the combined meetings of the APOA Hip section, ASEAN arthroplasty association and Indonesian orthopaedic association, when the terrorists struck at the Taj and Oberoi.

I carried on with my trip and returned early this morning.

Regards
Ameet

My ankle surgeon doesn't even return my calls and we are not, after a YEAR, on a first name basis. Ameet asked me to call him by his first name when I got to Bombay and I only spent 2 and a half weeks there.

AND LOOK AT THIS!

Dear Suzy,We all are fine at Jaslok Hospital.The attack was only at the 3 places ie Taj Hotal, Oberai and Nariman House.Dr Pispati is also fine..With warm regards,

I WROTE THE HOSPITAL AND THEY WROTE ME BACK. It's kind of like the U.S., only not.

I always bring back some exotic things from any foreign country I visit, usually art, since I collect it. This is a hand-made wood carved elephant painted in 22 carat gold. It depicts the mahout taking a couple for a ride. Every mahout owns his elephant. I own the dust on it.
I have a huge turquoise and silver jewelry collection and couldn't pass this up. It has 31 grams of silver and I have no idea whether that's good or bad. Dry hands, much?
This is a statue of Shiva that sits on one of my night tables stealing my Xanax.
And finally, Hillary.

Although I'm thrilled about it, I guess those of you who believed in The Manorexic's change platform are not. And to all the Hillary Haters? No one has cared what you think for a very loooooong time.

In other news, welcome to the recession, the one started back in December of 2007. I guess they thought it was finally time to tell the children we're moving to a smaller house.

Market News Stocks fall sharply on consumer spending worries

NEW YORK (AP) - Confirmation that the nation is in a recession and signs pointing to a prolonged downturn sent Wall Street plunging once again Monday, hurtling the Dow Jones industrials down more than 600 points.

Fuck.

End of chat.

2 Down, 3 To Go

Single people hate the holidays. Well, normal ones do. There's always those holdouts who LOVE them. I avoid these people at all costs.

1. Halloween, no kids to steal candy from.

2. Thanksgiving, no gifts AND weight gain.

3. Christmas, I do not want the pity invitation so you will have someone to talk to your 400 year old grandfather. I'M NOT THAT OLD.

4. New Year's Eve, duh.

5. Valentine's Day, triple duh.

6. End of chat.

It's Everybody Can Bite Me Friday!

I have plumbed the depths of hell and bought an "Oprah Book Club" selection, Edgar Sawtelle. I expect it to suck as every book I ever bought based on Her Rotundness' recommendation has sucked. I stopped buying them but a few years later bought James Frey's A Million Little Pieces, which I loved. Then Oprah got all up in her weave and appeared DEVASTATED that some parts of the memoir were not true and APOLOGIZED to her viewers. Puhleeeeeeeeeeze.

I had AAA come and install a new battery on Tuesday. The gas tank was full but half of it had evaporated. I drove to get a Big Mac and then got my car washed. Then it rained the next day because God likes to remind me every once in a while that I'm not in charge of everything. That's how much HE knows.

I drove to Costco where the lines were long and the shoppers mean. I was trying to negotiate my cart around a woman who OF COURSE didn't move after I said, "Excuse me; I have trouble walking and my hands don't work well." She replied, "Sure, as long as you stop HITTING ME." So I smiled sweetly, which is virtually impossible for me, and added a huge limp to my walking pattern plus drool and crossed eyes and hobbled away like Quasimodo. It gave me immense pleasure. God, I make a perfect 10 year old.

I didn't go to Malibu for Thanksgiving after all. Some of the guests I wanted to see weren't going to be there so I went to the party across the street, which was fabulous. Johnny and Carson (who was one of my friends who helped me during my recovery and who had been though a similar situation with her leg) are a married couple and all their friends are in the performing arts. Directors, singers, radio newscasters, etc. No kids! But dogs! Yay! A friend of theirs cooked two turkeys in their smoker. The moment I saw there was no green bean casserole in any form I was thrilled. They did asparagus with hollandaise, so much better. I didn't take my camera and after I saw the crowd, I was sorry I didn't.

Here's a pretty cheap and FABULOUS gift for your friends who drink: Caramel Vodka

1 bottle cheap vodka
1 and a half bags of Werther's Caramels
1 large vessel
1 funnel as needed

Do not use cheap caramels or expensive vodka!!

-Pour the vodka in the large vessel
-Add the caramels
-Leave overnight until all the caramels have melted.
-Pour back into empty vodka bottle after removing the vodka label
-Wrap with Xmas paper and a bow

The caramels will take up a lot of space so all the liquid will not fit back into the vodka bottle. I never got around to figuring this part out. My friends and I would usually drink what wouldn't fit into the bottle and take turns mocking AA by announcing "Hi, my name is Suzy and..oops, there's the bell!" They give you 5 minutes to speak and then ring a bell. Even if you're having a stroke at the podium, get off! It's worse than school and I think we all know how well I did there. Which might explain why I can't figure out the caramel into vodka bottle ratio.

I have not heard from my surgeon in Mumbai.

End of chat.

An Indian Thanksgiving. The REAL Indians.

I wrote my surgeon in Mumbai asking if everyone at Jaslok Hospital was okay. They're right in Mumbai. I also wrote one of my newer readers, Braja, who is funny, from Australia and currently living in a small village in India.

She writes about it today on her blog. She explains how the U.S. is seen from abroad. And around the world. We are NOT a popular country but you already knew that, right? I'M still popular, of course, but you already knew that, right?

While I was there in 2006, there was a terrorist attack at a train station. I was in a temple by my hospital and they ran us through metal detectors. At the time I didn't know why but read about it later on. They deliver 2 newspapers a day to your hospital room, kinda like here, only not.

Click on the label at the end of this post to see all the pictures I took of these lovely and kind people.

I still haven't heard from my doctor. Maybe he's helping the wounded. Braja said they killed Indians as well, which I hadn't heard on our news. I woke up at 4 a.m. thinking of him and all the people in that hospital. The news this morning is now announcing they're still under fire today, which I think is tomorrow there. The International Date Line is clearly for people who can count.

I think we all know where that leaves me.

End of chat.

So Much For Keeping A List

I had so much to do yesterday but only did one thing. So that whole going to call AAA and driving the car on Monday thing? Didn't happen. It was too cloudy. I did, however, add renter's insurance to my car policy because in 16 years I haven't had it and you know, clouds can lead to a 12.7 earthquake.

Do you get in trouble for starting a fire in your apartment and then say your hands were so numb you couldn't pick up a bottle of vodka water to spread it knock it out?

There's a cricket living in my bathroom. I can't remember which ones chirp, the male or the female, but this one doesn't chirp. It also doesn't leave the bathroom. Years ago I would just drop a Harper's Bazaar on it and wait a few days to scrape up the corpse. On occasion, I would keep them off death row and cover them with a glass and slide the paper underneath etc. etc. and free them outside while doing the Heebie Jeebie Dance. Then a few years ago my mother and her friend told me crickets bring good luck and never to kill one. So because of my hands I can't even lift a Harper's Bazaar much less aim a glass over a cricket. So I decided to just ignore it. It's been there about 3 weeks and it did disappear for a while and I thought it had died or escaped. Then the last 3 days I saw it again. Today I was in the kitchen and saw a baby cricket, where the bathroom wall and the kitchen wall meet.

I guess it was a she cricket and gave birth to probably one thousand babies. If I have great luck this year I'm going to be asking you all for name suggestions. Lots and lots and LOTS of name suggestions. But I'm glad I didn't kill the mother.

Good grief, I'm the crazy cricket lady.

While I call AAA, go read the latest part of my memoir at Scrivel.

End of chat.

SINGLE, MARRIED & DIVORCED - Last Cartoon

© Single, Married & Divorced

Jokes from the show Single, Married & Divorced starring Suzy Soro and Leslie Norris
Written by Leslie Norris
Illustration by Andre Noel

Click on the label below and it will take you to the other 7 cartoons from our stage book

It's Everyone Can Bite Me Friday!

I woke up this morning and shuffled into the bathroom and got a glimpse of my feet. I jumped and thought, "Oh my GOD, my feet are bleeding."

See yesterday's post if you don't get that.

Web MD is the devil. Trying to discover why my hands are still numb and my upper arms are unusable and clicking from page to page and symptom to symptom it appears I might actually have died a few years ago.

"The Secret Service also has cautioned the public not to assume that any threats against Obama are due to racism." What's it from then? His height? The Secret Service detail must be leftover Bushites, i.e. STUPID.

Lindsay Lohan got flower sacked in Paris when she showed up wearing a fur. I can't believe PETA asks people not to wear fur. Maybe I should ask them to stop wearing crocs. Or clothes that don't match. Or to throw on a lipstick. All of that kills MY SOUL but I don't tell other people how to live or what to do. When they were throwing paint on 130,000 fur coats, I'm hoping that some of the celebrities sued for destroying personal property. I'm not wearing a dachshund, PETA, fuck off.

My family and I have reconciled and my sister has come over once a week to help me, which has saved my life. She's like the Cleaning Whisperer. Sponges, pots and pans, and detergent all gather around her legs when she enters the kitchen.

At one aisle in Mayfair Market we both exclaimed "Oh wow, look!" I turned to her and she was pointing to some unpronounceable foreign bottled water while I was pointing to those new Strawberry Eggos. Twins!

She even let me drive her new BMW as soon as I removed my hands from around her throat. So come Monday, AAA to jump start my car and then Thanksgiving down at some friend's beautiful home in the jewel of Southern California, Malibu. They have one bathroom with the most outstanding tile work I've ever seen. EVER.

They finally cancelled Monk after 9 painful years of Tony Shaloub making the same 3 faces over and over. We got it. OCD. NINE YEARS OF OCD.

"Crackalackin" has replaced "Mamma Mia" as the most obnoxious words on television.

End of chat.

Finally, An Intelligent Post

This is my first pedicure since MARCH. I just don't feel right if I don't have mani-pedis. I'm a big girly girl. Plus I go commando, what's not to love? Shut up. Can you see the scars? One is below the right ankle. A little indentation. There's one on each side of the foot. Isn't this a fascinating post? The right foot is a little pinkishette. But you can barely see the scars and how many of you have now walked to your gun cabinet? I'm happy even though my hands are still numb and who has loaded their gun and aimed it at the monitor?

End of chat.

SuckedIn By LinkedIn

Even though I've accepted invites to LinkedIn, I never used it. Then I broke down recently and invited people.

This is a picture of me and Janette Barber from the 1996-97 Comedy Issue of Dancing Bear Productions. I pinched her contact info off another friend's LinkedIn profile. I hadn't seen or talked to her in 8 years. It's hard to read the copy below but she produced the Rosie O'Donnell show and is now working on Rosie's new variety show. She has lots of Emmys. For followers of Rosie's old show, Janette was the "Ja" in Jahero.

The profile next to my name says 'Hates Everybody.'

My favorite Janette story happened in Buffalo, NY when we were both working for Airborne Eddie. I was headlining but was panicked because Janette killed everywhere and I now had to follow her. So I called her and shared my fear and she pooh poohed the idea that I couldn't follow her. I then called my manager and shared with him and he dismissed me with "I only handle headliners so deal with it."

So of course I got laryngitis the hour after I arrived in Buffalo. During the week my voice got worse and worse until I sounded like Lauren Bacall smoking Cohibas. Then there was a fire in the hotel and they sounded the alarms and Janette didn't come out of her room, which was next door to mine. I pounded on the door until she casually opened it.
"What's up?"
"WE'RE ON FIRE!"
"Really?"

A fireman ran past us.

"Oh, okay, just let me get my book."
"JA - NETTE." She ran back into the room and then reappeared at the door.
"Wait, I need a sweater cuz it's cold out."
"Yeah, you can wear it to the MORGUE."

As we waited outside, I didn't see a book.
"Where's your book?"
She held up a spiral notebook, where she kept all her jokes. She was risking her life for a bunch of jokes. I, on therother hand, would've gladly watched mine feed the flames.

ANYWAY, by the penultimate day of the gig, I could barely talk and asked Janette to switch with me since her spot required 30 minutes while mine required 45. Janette said she'd gladly do it to prove to Eddie how good she was because up until then Airborne Eddie wouldn't book her as a headliner. But he agreed to the switch as I was begging him to give me a break.

Janette killed.

Eddie only booked her as a headliner after that.

End of chat.

The Blog Schmooze

Heidi gave me this which I think is her way of telling me I talk too much. Joy Behar calls me Aunt Blabby so Heidi is probably right. "The Schmooze award is for bloggers who...“effortlessly weave their way in and out of the Blogosphere, leaving friendly trails and smiles, happily making new friends along the way. They don’t limit their visits to only the rich and successful, but spend some time to say hello to new blogs as well. They are the ones who engage others in meaningful conversations, refusing to let it end at a mere hello - all the while fostering a sense of closeness and friendship.”

I'd like to hand it off to Nanny, who has just been laid off after 16 years of sleeping with her coworkers doing a top notch job at her company and Susan, who is dealing with a whore named Dawn Bicker, a slut sleeping with Susan's husband.

Hang in there girls, were pulling for you both.

End of chat.

The Year Of The Woman 2008

1. Ali Vincent wins The Biggest Loser after 4 seasons of male winners.

2. The first woman tries to run for the White House.

3. The first woman in 24 years runs for Vice-President.

4. Dr. Rachel Maddow, a self-titled "butch lesbian" averaged a higher rating of the 25-54 much sought after demographic in the first 13 out of 25 days of her MSNBC TV show, beating CNN's Larry King for the first time.

5. Ann Dunwoody becomes the first 4 star Army general in U.S history. (took her 33 years)

Jews support Jews, gays support gays, white men support white men, blacks support blacks, Latinos support Latinos. So I support women and will die trying. I don't care about ANYONE'S politics because ultimately, it all ends up being the same politics plus or minus a filibuster or two. I wish I had been a fly on the wall when the CIA briefed Obama on what is really going on in the world.

But I wish Obama the best and will support him as one of his first acts is taking on a serious U.S. problem, The Baggy Pants Law in Florida.

Before the Internet, when bloggers and websites reported that Palin had her daughter's baby and a gay friend claimed Palin's son is gay and circulated a picture of him blowing another guy. (It was so out of focus and obviously photo shopped I'm pretty sure it was Cheney going down on Bush.) And other sites reported Obama wouldn't pledge allegiance to the flag and was a friend to terrorists. Even TV was recently caught up in the Palin hoax re Africa.Really shameful behavior for America, the stupidest and most violent country in the world. Due diligence has been replaced by Perez Hilton. The irony is that for all the mudslinging, Obama and Palin each became superstars.

When Prop. 8 (legalize gay marriage)was defeated here we were all shocked. But I had to wonder, I was asked to pass that blow job photo to as many people as possible. I didn't, obviously. Did other gay people send out the same hateful and erroneous email? Did people believe it? Did they forward it?

Because karma IS a bitch.

End of chat.

It's Everybody Can Bite Me Friday!

My family has a demented strain of Green Ballitis:

1. My sister's cleaning OCD is so severe that you can now see the fingerprints from the carpenter who built her French side tables in 1879.

2. My mother stretches every piece of fabric she touches. EVEN AT MUSEUMS WHERE IT SAYS DO NOT TOUCH.

3. This was the bar in my Dad's apartment. He tore down a wall, moved a jacuzzi and made one of the bedrooms into a bar. Obviously my father was the normal one in the family. Kind of. He saved every lottery ticket he ever played. He then took the time to arrange them and COUNT them. And here they are: 12,881. I'm hoping those were only a dollar each because if not, my sister and I would have been a lot richer 8 years ago when he died.

4. There's no point in listing my peccadilloes as there isn't enough bandwidth so that's why I wrote my book, All the Bad Sex I've Had, a very, very, very long book. Chapter 2 (part 5) is now up at Scrivel. OR just click on my name on the home page and all the previous parts come up, albeit backwards, which is definitely a metaphor for my personality. Some names in the book have been changed to protect the guilty, including me, and some haven't, like ex-Yankee Reggie Jackson. It hasn't been vetted by lawyers so I hope they have WiFi in prison.

All the odd chapters are about the guy I call Elvis in this blog and it's a continuous story about his dead wife, me and him and how she won't leave us alone for 5 minutes already. Every even chapter is about one of the idiots I had bad sex with and explains what's wrong with me.

"Elvis" is like the guy in "You're so Vain." He exists but I ain't blabbing. For once.

End of chat.

Yoshi And The Green Ball

This is my sister's Shih-Tzu, Yoshi. I had a Yorkie named Kiko. I have no idea why we both gave our dogs Japanese names. We both think we had a previous life in Japan. Regular readers should know by now that my life is full of paranormal activity. As a matter of fact when I typed the word 'Japanese' it turned itself into a link without doing it to any other word in that sentence. And it was a blank page with no links on it.

Do I have proof of past life stuff? Yes, and it's in my book which is over at Scrivel.com. (just click on my name and you turn into a millionaire.) There is WAY more out there than most people imagine. I've been studying metaphysics since 1983 and some stuff even scares the shit out of me. Remember when both my TV and stereo turned themselves on in the middle of the night? Anyway, this is Yoshi and his Green Ball. We can't actually say those words and have to call it GB. This must be a habit we picked up in feudal Japan.

GB is Yoshi's pet. He stands around with it in his mouth. FOREVER. When he lies down, he tucks it gently under his chin and puts his head over it. My sister bought the same ball in red and he was all "I don't THINK so." She can't bring GB with her when she travels because he would drive us crazier than we already are.

The most fun is to hide it and ask him where it is.

No animals were harmed in the typing of this post. But I did beat the crap out of my sister.

End of chat.

Ruby

I've never been a giant fan of food. I keep waiting for the pill that says "lunch" on it. When we were kids I came upstairs to find my mother, who was a gourmet cook, (French, duh) shoving a Baked Alaska into the oven. She looked over at me and said, 'Don't ever marry a man who will make you do all the cooking.' And I never did. However, I turned out to be a great cook and cooked for all my ex-boyfriends, may they rot in hell, which I'm pretty sure is where they all live now.

So I was thin my entire life until before this last surgery. I got up to 147 because I stopped exercising and was so unhappy. Now that I'm finally back to 123 I find Ruby, the reality show about the once 700 pound woman who is now around 500 lbs.

I have watched Sweat Dripping Into Their Dishes Iron Chef, Relative of Famous Movie Director So That's Why She Doesn't Use Her Married Name Chef Giada di Laurentis, Husband Cheats On Her Chef Rachael Ray, Where Is Her Husband Chef The Barefoot Contessa and Cholesterol Chef Whose Husband Married Her For Her Money Paula Butter Dean. Not ONCE during any of these shows did I feel like eating. McLoserstene used to marvel that I could watch them without eating as she said she could just turn to the food channel and gain five pounds.

Ten minutes into Ruby and I was ready to have dinner for 12. And because there are so many delivery restaurants around me, I had to eat my takeout menus. I have no idea why Ruby set me off on a feeding frenzy since she barely ate anything in the show. So I'm not going to watch it anymore although I WOULD like my own show. They could call it Skinny Bitch.

End of chat.

My Current Enemies 1

I'm walking a lot better. I know that sounds retarded since I just pole vaulted over a gardener but all in all, I'm walking fine.

But my hands are still numb. Once a day Every hour I'm yelling FUCK over something I can't do.

These are the things I wish would disappear into the recession:

1. Saran Wrap. Buy Press and Seal, much easier to use.

2. Bleach. Impossible to press down and turn that top. Stop buying white clothes.

3. Cutting the stems of flowers. I just got 2 dozen roses and by the time I finished cutting the stems the bouquet looked like a roller-coaster ride. Buy them in a vase at your local store and hand deliver them. It took me 10 minutes to open the box that I guess was meant to orbit space for 45 years.

4. Blogger spellcheck. A fetus could correct more errors than their stupid program.

5. Medicine bottles. Ask the pharmacist to give you the bottles that open easier instead of the press and turn. If you're afraid your kids will find them, they're already into drugs and looking for more so it's too late.

6. Opening jars. Jam, peanut butter, heroin.

7. I can't put my hair up. Buy a wig which I'mthisclose to doing.

8. And the cruelest one of all, I can fit into my old clothes and can't BUTTON anything so I'm thinking of walking around nude. I'll probably get better service this way.

If you have a neighbor or friend who has arthritis or one hand or anything wrong with their upper appendages, don't forget about them. It's easy to do that when your own hands work.

ASK them If they need help opening things. It will make them feel good that you care and leave the door open for them to maybe ask you to help them the next time. Sometimes I would sit up here for days feeling like I shouldn't bother people for something but when I asked, they were more than happy to help. My friends Carson and Karen will call and the first thing out of their mouths, even today is, "What can I do to help?"

End of chat.

It's Everyone Can Bite Me Friday!

Third time must be the charm since I fell AGAIN. Tripped over the gardener and fell backwards. As I hit, my skirt flipped up to my face revealing not only that I was going commando but giving the pool man a nice look. All I could think about was thank god I lost weight or the two of them might have mistaken me for a beached walrus and pushed me into the pool.

My sister was with me and two tenants rushed outside to help. ALL OF THIS because our asshole manager, the one the entire building hates, won't water the outdoor plants. So 2 jade trees are lost, one almost dead and one struggling. I've complained to management but they're more retarded than our manager. So I was trying to do it and asked the gardener to help me and I fell.

So I'm sitting by the side of the pool with an icepack Tony brought me (The neighbor who lent me the black boot post-op). He's like a mini hospital in that he knew all the symptoms of concussion and so did Jenny, owner of Monkey Dog, who also rushed to help.

So I go to thank the gardener and say, "You're Japanese right?" SO OF COURSE HE WASN'T AND WHY DID I ASK HIM THAT? It's not like I even speak Japanese. So he says he's Korean and I continue to talk and say, "How do you say Thank You in Korean and he didn't understand and walked away. The only thing that made me feel better was that he kept getting me and my sister confused.

As we walked to my sister's car she said, "I totally thought he was Japanese."

My sister's practically on the dole. She traded in her white 525i BMW at $660 a month to a white 325i BMW at only $400 a month. I told her our financial guru Suze Orman says a lease is a waste of money and she knew it but riposted with "No maintenance problems ever and a new car every two years." My Ford Contour is 11 years old and blueberry colored. Yeah, I don't stick out too much in this town.

Just when all the annoying political shit has stopped on TV, today they STARTED THE XMAS CRAP.

After two days of a horrific slide on Wall Street, almost a thousand points, it's up $248 today. This is all dismal news for the economy for those of you who follow the stock market as an indicator of our stabilty. It. Is. Bad. And my sister, who TRAVELS with the stock quotes and talks to her stockbroker more than our mother, says it's still going down. There goes my BMW, which I was going to buy in 45 years.

Go over to Uproarious, where I say Goodbye.

End of chat.

The Manorexic President

WOW! TWO MEN IN THE WHITE HOUSE!!!! WHO SAW THAT COMING????

I actually felt sorry for each presidential hopeful by the end of the campaign. They had a lot to deal with no matter who was declared the winner. And none of the issues are easily solved, some not even possible in a few years, like health care and the two wars.

My biggest concern has always been terrorism. We've only had one president since 9/11 so we don't know how terrorists will view a new one. There were no attacks during Clinton. Do terrorists only hate a Republican President? A Washington Insider reminded me recently that the real reason for 9/11 was to ultimately bring the US to its financial knees. We're there now. How will a new President jump start our economy? Can he force us to shop more and take trips and vacations? How is a new President going to force companies to rehire people or not foreclose on a house? Is a new President going to stave off the recession that is already here?

And for those of you women who were teenagers during the last time we had a woman on the ticket, 1984, when McLoserstene was only 5 years old, (!!!) you may have just witnessed the last time in your life this phenomenon will occur. The next one might find a lot of women divorced, widowed or deceased. Palin's greatest contribution, which most women who either are SAHM's or have a husband's paycheck to help them may not have come across in their lives, is that her campaign revealed that the treatment by the press was sexist. But eventually stopped. And every woman out there needs to be grateful for that, even if you're too young or naive to realize it. I admire her for not whining about it. Unlike me.

Here's my favorite quote from the campaign:

"The irony here is that, in no small way, Obama made Palin possible. The celebrity status of politicians is nothing new, but Obama took it to another level. He created an atmosphere where a paper-thin resume was no longer seen as an obstacle to success, but an asset. He built his campaign around a promise of change that even his adherents will grudgingly admit was more atmospheric than substantive." ~ New York Magazine, 10/09

Over 20 years ago, women started naming their children with monikers that didn't point out their gender. Now they've gone back to olde tyme names. I hope this isn't portentious.

My memoir over at scrivel continues and the bad sex is coming up! And over at Uproarious I'm giving tips on what NOT to say on your blogs if you want to be considered funny.

End of chat.

Sex And The Baby Mama

I did not get an extra hour of sleep over the weekend because my fucking neighbors were HAMMERING shit at 1:00 am Saturday, which I guess they thought was only MIDNIGHT so why not? I have grown to loathe them. Well not the wife, she's always quiet. It's the husband. Does he think, "Well, it's 1:00 a.m. so everyone's asleep so it's a perfect time to hammer?" HAMMERING WAKES PEOPLE UP, ASSHOLE.

I used to have only two top bad movies on my list: 1. Convoy and 2. Hairspray, with John Revolta. But they have both been bumped down a notch to add Baby Mama to the number one spot. I love Tina Fey and think she's done a lot for women in comedy. She's such a huge success that people don't automatically say Women Aren't Funny anymore because her name comes rolling out as the first argument. So yay for Tina but Baby Mama is a mess and why didn't the writer, Michael Something, let her HELP HIM WITH THE SCRIPT? It's hacky, badly edited and a waste of a normally funny cast: Steve Martin, Amy Poehler, Sigourney Weaver with THE stupidest D plot I've ever seen, Holland Taylor, Maura Tierney and Greg Kinnear, who is one of my former husbands.

I finally saw Sex and the City. Clothes were fabulous but soooooo much product placement. The wedding gown sequence + Vogue angle in particular. I'm wondering how much editor Anna Wintour paid for that? (Project Runway went to her before Elle Magazine and Anna turned them down so I don't think she'll be turning down anything else after that mistake.) Saw only two major accessory mistakes, one on Samantha and one on Charlotte. You can't wear 3" drop earrings with a major necklace. Since the earrings in question looked exactly the same, I couldn't help but think that Pat Field was doing some jeweler a solid.

I had been warned that the Samantha plot line was messed up. I think they put her in California AND made her fat because of the well known financial donnybrook between her and SJP. When is someone going to tell Sarah Jessica that when you have small eyes, you CANNOT rim your inside bottom lid because it will make you look like a reptile? When? Am I the only Makeup and Accessory Police Officer on duty these days?

The movie kinda depressed me. That movie was my life before I went into comedy. It was me, my sister, Jane the model, and Liz the flight attendant. The only labels we could afford back then were Vuitton, the 'old' brown ones. NO ONE had Chanel or Valentino but the insanely wealthy. But we all went to Paris a lot and Liz traveled around the world so we always had avant garde jewelry and purses. Jane spent a lot of time in Japan right before Japan owned everything and she had model stuff to die for, especially shoes. We never left home before 11 pm and Jane knew every hot nightclub and party in town. Restaurants weren't the cool place to be seen then, unless you counted Elaine's. We were all much wilder than the Sex girls and we would never have allowed a "Charlotte" to hang with us. Or we would have, just to take turns slapping her. And designer shoes? No such thing back then.

My sister had more flowers delivered to her than any other woman I've ever met. She was once in Paris and complaining to her boyfriend at the time that she missed me so he flew me and my dog to Morocco to meet them. Another time she was at JFK with another boyfriend, on their way to Europe, when his ex-girlfriend showed up and made such a scene that he sent my sister home and took the ex to Europe. Roses arrived about thirty minutes after she did. The days before 9/11 were SO much easier to navigate.

Old New York was so much more fun than today's city. People did not have to move to Brooklyn because Manhattan was too expensive. Downtown was not chic, but funky, and anyone who considered themselves any kind of artist always moved to NY. Now NY seems like Connecticut. Too much money and not enough imagination. They should just rename the city Trumpville.

End of chat.

It's Everyone Can Bite Me Friday!

I think you'd all be shocked if I revealed the name of the popular Mommy Blogger who exchanged e-mails with me over my choice in the upcoming election. This Mommy Blogger urged me to consider NOT voting. She didn't put that in the comments. Obviously.

Have you seen the new Steven Spielberg-directed commercial that facetiously asks people not to vote? It stars major Hollywood players and asks you to vote. Obviously.

What the hell is wrong with California? Both Obama and Sarah Palin have been hung in effigy in two different places. Maybe we should pay less attention to foreign wars and fix the ones we have here at home?

Now that I'm back down to 123 pounds, I tried on the 9 pairs of jeans I own.

Goodbye Mr. 4.
Goodbye Mr. 6.
Goodbye Mr. Chips.
Hello Mr. 8.

Just how fucking skinny was I? And why do I only own 9 pairs? I have more toothbrushes than jeans.

I'm over at Uproarious discussing one of the most controversial comics of the last ten years, Dane Cook, and how he used the Internet to change the fame game.

End of chat.

Just A Few Reminders

My memoir continues over at Scrivel and Uproarious has a press release announcing their brand new collaboration with ???

I hope you're all searching in thrift shops for ugly Xmas sweaters. Just take a picture and send it in. This is one of the 2 prizes. That spot above 'check one' was from the camera, not the shirt, which is brand new and I think is L or XL, I can't remember. I have no idea where I hid it but it's here somewhere.

And another shout out to Beckie for sending me SIX MORE CHUCKLES!! The candy, not the laughs, although she HAS made me laugh but you know what I mean and you've heard of my addiction to this candy which CALIFORNIA REFUSES TO SELL. It's not like we're Vermont; we have 38 million people in our state and someone besides me MUST like them.

God, people piss me off sometimes.

End of chat.

Harmony

This is Harmony, who belongs to Jen, who lives downstairs who was visiting one day while I was incarcerated. I call her Monkey Dog because she can jump straight up in the air two feet, clear the armchair and land on my lap. Even my ex-boyfriend couldn't do that.
When she was less than a year old Jen brought her to my apartment and Harmony spent the entire time eating microorganisms off my carpet. I got the hint and had them cleaned.

Here she is licking my teeshirt. I have no idea how many times I wore that shirt during my recovery. 40 hundred? So apparently it was uh, gross.Here I'm restraining her because she would have licked clear through to the bone. My ex-boyfriend COULD do that, however.

End of chat.

Uh Oh, It's Getting Darker Earlier

I have not called AAA to jump my car !
I haven't been back to the chiro !!
I am the definition of inertia !!!
Dr. Drew Celebrity Rehab is back !!!!
I still can't feel my hands !!!!!
Best line on Mad Men last night: Betty, you look wan; do you want a Miltown?

And it's all good because.........say it with me, L e x a p r o.
I'm putting this old card up in case anyone wants to comment: "But sweetie, you HAVE no mind." It's Free Pass Day.

End of chat.

Two Things I Left Out Yesterday

Due to the aforementioned growing head of mine, it is now crowding out actual things I need to remember, as opposed to just the worst sex I ever had and some questionable fashion choices in the 80's.

The winner of Cancer is a Bitch was chosen by the author and goes to smalltown mom. So snail mail me and I'll forward it to Gail!

Part 3 of my memoir is going up next Wednesday instead of yesterday. I don't know why; have your people call their people.

End of chat.

It's Everybody Can Bite Me Friday!

It's so freaking hot in L.A. I heard it was raining in the Midwest and I almost burst into tears.

One day my mom and I were shopping here in LA and she wanted something that cost about 400 dollars. She was so disappointed she didn't have the cash on her. So I told her to just use her credit card and she said she couldn't because she wasn't sure how much money she had in her French bank. I didn't see the connection. The French government is a wee bit socialistic (although capitalists at heart) and they don't allow their citizens to overspend, thus no bankruptcies etc etc. If you use your credit card, it acts like a debit card, not enough money in the bank? No Can Buy Overpriced Crap. They're never in debt. At the time I thought that was SO DUMB. Now? Not so much.

You know how I hate Twitter, texting and people who talk on their cell phones without an earpiece while they're driving?

I don't get why or HOW we adults grew up without these things and still are lousy communicators. Most of us are frozen at the thought of cocktail party chatter, job interviews, going on a blind date, asking your neighbor for a favor. IMAGINE how fucked up the kids today are gong to be when they get to be our age? Especially men. I can think of only one man I ever went out with who was a good communicator. All the rest barely listened, were watching three games at the same time or just ignoring me. Although women ignore me too. As usual, I'm part of the problem, not the solution.

I find Twitter the worst of them all. "My cat just ran by holding a dead mouse in its mouth." WHY DOES THAT MATTER TO COMPLETE STRANGERS? Newsflash, that is not interesting. My friend Tommy at Hollywood Dad is back and posting and he called me yesterday to tell me he ran into and talked to Posh Spice and David Beckham. That's a pretty big get in LA. He blogged (WITH PICTURES) about it so go already. But would I Twitter that to anyone? Half of you don't think that's interesting so why bore you with it? Although I just did.

Why must we always be in touch? I never texted my mom and asked her to bring my lunch because I forgot it; she made sure I HAD it when I left the house and she had 3 jobs, 2 kids and a 4 bedroom house with no help. AND a husband who ignored her.

That train crash we had here in LA a few weeks ago killed 25 people. The moron driving the train sent 57 texts that day while he was on the train and the last one was sent 22 seconds before the crash. I'm sorry he was killed so he couldn't spend the rest of his life in prison.

It's Uproarious time, where I'm revealing my fav female comic.

So have conversations. Stop typing. Have your people call my people.

End of chat.

Brillante Weblog Premio - 2008

I have no idea what this award means or even says. Neither did Bill, who gave it to me and animated me on my sidebar. But apparently it's premio so I guess that's good. But based on the word 'Brilliante' I'm assuming this award has something to do with that. So these blogs came instantly to mind:

Not THAT different who is always up to date on politics and legislation in Uzbekistan and her blog is like reading The New York Times with a weekly Haiku thrown in for good measure.

Road Atlas Shrugged, a comic and another blogger who never misses the news and the minutia the mainstream media lies to us about. And her Phillie's are going to the World Series!

Riley's Ramblings. First time author of Driving Sideways, a compelling writer and mommy to a dog and monarch butterflies, this girl does it all with a smile. Which I should borrow sometimes.

Eileen Cook. Another first time author, of Unpredictable, with a wicked sense of humor and a peaceful outlook on life, possibly because she has no children or monarch butterflies.

End of chat with Mrs. Art Linkalotter.

I Heart Your Blog

24 years has already gone by. Do we have a female President yet? I didn't think so.

I got this award from merecat. A lovely Diet Pepsi drinking mom of twins who always leaves lovely comments and is bootiful too. So here's who I'm giving it to:

greenmountaincountrymama, aka Heidi, who always leaves the funniest comments, is a wonderful mom and a phenomenal nurse and whose 5 year old son I'm going to marry when he grows up. I hope he knows what nursing home I'll be in.

The More, the Messier, who home schools her SIX children and still has time to comment on blogs. That noise you heard is me opening my oven and sticking my head inside.

Jenn, who never fails to leave comments on TWO of my blogs, takes care of her kids, her sister's child and is truly a terrific mom. And she's going for her teachers certificate or degree or whatever it's called. Those will be some lucky kids who get her as a teacher. I might have done better in school if I'd had her as a teacher. Although it's doubtful.

As you can see I'm handing out this award to people whose blog I Heart because they have big Hearts. Not a requirement, just something I decided to do. So give this award away or do what you want. I still have more to give out tomorrow.

And go read Uproarious!!

End of chat.

The Kick Ass Blogger Award

I got this from Jenn at Juggling Life back in 1879 and didn't do what I was supposed to with it so I'm doing it now. Imagine how I studied for the SATs. During the SATs.

First Jenn, thank you and I do kick ass if I say so myself. I'm fearless, outspoken and don't give a rat's ass if people don't like me because of it. I have three readers, should I mention that?

So here's who else deserves the Kick Ass Blogger Award: (and if you already have it well now you have one more):

Jason. For the love of God. Totally puts herself out there. Honesty oozes from the pain she's suffered and survived.

Deb on the Rocks. Can kick the shit out of anyone (except me but if she shows up at my house I'll totally deny I wrote that) with her brazen topics and sex sex sex.

Mrs. K. Raised her daughter on her own until she met a wonderful man but she doesn't put up with any crap from them OR her tennis club.

Bee's Musings. Do NOT cross this chick because she will cross you back, only hers will be funny.

You're supposed to link to me and give them to others but do what you want because I HATE rules and have a wee bit of an authority problem. More awards to hand out coming soon, like 24 years. Now I know why I didn't do this when I was supposed to; it requires THINKING.

End of chat.

Cancer Is A Bitch

First of all, I'm doing another 'shoe contest.' Only there will be no shoes. This is why:


In honor of Breast Cancer Awareness month, this book, again from one of those amazing 2008 Debs, is my last contest. (Group sigh of relief?) It's the story of Gail Konop-Baker's anxiety, fear, anger, and humor over her cancer diagnosis. So I want the winner to be someone whose life cancer has touched. It doesn't have to be you or even someone who reads my blog.

Sidebar: Read this review, all writers everywhere will groan in unison.

Just write me a comment about someone you know or have heard of who deserves to win this book, someone who could use a big warm hug from a person who has walked in their shoes, worried about leaving her children behind and tried to go on with her life.

This is a very brave book from a very brave author. You'll have all WEEK to put in comments since I want every possible person eligible to have a shot at winning this heartfelt and beautifully written memoir. I'll announce the winner on Friday.

End of chat.

It's Everyone Can Bite Me Friday!

It's official, I've hit the blog wall. Both writing and reading. Sometimes I don't read for a day or two and find some blogs have 12 posts! I wish I had that much to talk about. And due to said wall, I'm not reading the really long ones because I have TV to watch and naps to take and WAY too much writing on my own end. Which reminds me, my memoir is continuing over at scrivel. It's a little out there for some people but paranormal activities do happen to me and I really suck at love so it's not dull.

McLoserstene went to Australia to see her boyfriend Mike the I Heart The Cock guy. Then they both come back and get to stop off in Fiji for 4 hours. Maybe that's why I've hit the wall, I miss traveling and seeing the world. It really is the best part of my life, to see other cultures and appreciate the beauty of something other than Disneyland. I'm dying to go on safari in South Africa and see China. I think it's time to look into marrying for money.

God, Oprah is a tool. I first heard of the uproar on her message boards a few weeks ago because she wouldn't have Sarah Palin on as a guest. But it's her show, her rules and she didn't owe her audience anything. But the comments mostly pointed to her hypocrisy in pushing the woman's agenda for the last 20 years and the fact that her show and magazines are all about empowering women and how she's used her female fan base to build her empire. And she endorses a man over a woman for President.

Yesterday Oprah had on Gloria Steinem and Billie Jean King and she kissed both their asses for getting women ahead in the world. The Williams' sisters said that thanks to Billie and Title 9, women finally got paid as much money as men at Wimbledon. 40 years ago winner Billie Jean got 37% to the male winner's 100% pay. It was probably my imagination but at certain times in the show Oprah's face seemed to register what her fan base was saying. It was not irony. More like she understood her own bullshit, that women at the top translate to better conditions and jobs for us all. I think she's doing the same thing for her race and if Obama wins, I hope that comes true as we have treated black people like shit for way too long in this country.

I do wish mothers will tell their daughters about these remarkable women and how without them we might still be referred to as a secretary or homemaker or 'the little woman.' Or watch the antediluvian Mad Men on AMC, which sadly chronicles how low women were in the workplace in the 1960's. And men owe Steinem big time. Because of her equality platform, it's not considered a bad thing to be a SAHF anymore.

And don't forget my Friday edition of Uproarious. Talk about the Way Back Machine!!

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Shrunken Head

Sometimes I think my head is growing. A hat won't fit right, my sleep mask is suddenly too tight, my brain expands with new neuroses and I notice the curtain hems aren't even.

So today was my 3 week check-in with Dr. C., the woman who let me cry for one solid hour when I first came to see her. I never see male shrinks, ever. I always wonder if they listen as poorly as they do when they're just in a regular job. Or at home watching the game or reading the newspaper. I'd take a gay male shrink though.

Lexapro has taken away all my anxiety and I plan to stay on it unless I move to Tahiti, where there are no hats or uneven curtain hems.

I am so shell-shocked from the stock market that I haven't much more to say except whoever wins this election is not going to have an easy time of it. They are seriously in a lose-lose (war can't be ended in under 2 years/economy is officially in a recession) situation, at least according to my stockbroker who is in a company that didn't go under. Yet.

He urged me to vote with my pocketbook, which is what I'm doing. I don't use the word 'pocketbook'; I say purse. People in their 100's say 'pocketbook' and bookies say 'purse' so I'll vote with my wallet. It's possible the reason my head is growing because my brain is getting bigger, like a man's. (women do have smaller brains). Man, would I put my bigger brain to good use. Free shoes for women, tracking devices for married men and a universal ban on fanny packs and boxer shorts. And that's just the FIRST DAY.

For a laugh go to Uproarious to see some of the ridiculous comedy books from my collection.

End of chat.

Sleeping And I Got A Divorce

2 countries

in 29 hours

on 4 planes

and 60 hours of no sleep.

I couldn't take my relaxing meds because I'd have to put them in their script bottles, which I can't open due to my hands. Not to mention my fear of falling down in the middle of the plane aisle or ON STAGE at Casino Regina. Easily the best venue I've ever played with a sound and light crew of 5; usually comedy clubs have one person to run lights and sound. I had to wear a backstage pass and I haven't had to do that since my old friend Baba Booey took me backstage to see Howard Stern. IN THE EARLY 90's.

Leslie and I tore it up with an hour and a half show and killed. She spent most of her time offstage looking for a Crown and Diet Coke. She had 3 and THIS time didn't end up dancing on the bar or forcing me to do karaoke with her. I managed to get ONE bite of Saskatoon pie! No butter tarts.

Regina is a town of about 200,000 that sits right above North Dakota, which I'm pretty sure is still a state. It rhymes with Vagina and all the natives HATE that people make the same lame joke about it over and over. So they told me about the time Mick Jagger played there and opened with, "I'm not going to make fun of the name of your town. So I guess that makes me a pussy, right?"

I'm always a mess before a show and especially when I have to get up early. I was so exhausted from not sleeping since Tuesday night that I wheel chaired all the way back and thank God I did or else I'd still be wandering the Vancouver airport, which is huge. At one point they transferred me, my purse, my little carry-on and my green and burgundy psychedelic cane to a motorized car since the Regina flight was late getting in.

"Hi, my name is Marie."
"My name is Suzy."

We drove in silence for a few seconds.

"Can you see anything at all?" She asked.
"I'm not blind."

Then I started laughing. I wondered how many other people thought I was blind. I asked her if she was embarrassed about what she asked and she said she was. I told her not to worry since twice in the beginning of my career I asked women in the front row of a show if they were pregnant. AND THEY WERE NOT.

For those of you who have expressed interest in reading my debut memoir, scrivel is hosting Chapter One in sections every Friday for a month. It's up there now so go read it before I start rewriting AGAIN.

End of chat.