Sunday, May 31, 2009

There's Something Wrong With My Head. Again.

"If you speak with nine out of 10 officers of color they would tell you that when they hear sirens in their head they are thinking: ‘I hope these cops know that I’m one of the good guys."

~The New York Times, May 31, 2009

This has me worried because I always hear sirens in my head and it's unclear to me that I'm one of the good guys. But I do know I'm black.

Friday, May 29, 2009

It's Everyone Can Bite Me Friday!

This is the 'old' Martha Jane and Celebrity Fit Club's Ant. It was taken over 2 years ago here in LA. MJ is a friend of mine who lives in Honolulu and always signs off her comments with Aloha. She's also the longest reader of my blog, poor thing. (that sentence is crafted poorly so bite me)MJ's really acting in the picture below because Ant? She's not a fan. Look at her eyes boring into me saying I HATE YOU because I made them stand together and I KNEW she had a problem with him. But it made for a better picture, no? Something to laugh at later? Hello? Anyone? This is the 'new' Martha Jane. She just lost 50 pounds and got a new haircut.

" I have no problem w/you putting in the “fat photo” from the comedy reunion. Oh, and you might want to say that what really “stunned” me was when I was at Costco trying to load a 40-pound box of cat litter into the market basket. I could barely hoist it. Then it dawned on me. I HAD BEEN CARRYING AROUND 10 MORE POUNDS THAN THAT! WHAT HAD I DONE TO MYSELF?

How did this all happen? Basically, I have figured out that aliens invaded my brain, insidiously like spyware or a computer virus, causing me to ignore my body. Mercifully, the aliens apparently retreated and maybe went to someone else’s brain (perhaps Kirstie Alley’s, I don’t know).

The way I did it was Weight Watchers, which as you may know, has a plan that does not forbid adult beverages. You just have to count their points. Some people like their other plan which is all-you-can-eat-of-certain-foods-but-no-booze. Puh-leezzzeee. I’ve never been one who is into suffering of any kind. But it’s taken me over a year and a half to do it and I have 20 more to go."

Cheers MJ!

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Where The Obamas Came From

People have emailed me and asked me where I got 'The Obamas.' They came out of this diorama of a comedy club that I made as a gift for some EX friends of mine. The person who helped me execute my idea is also an EX friend.

I don't put up with assholes.

End of chat.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

The Story Of Hurty Ear

Of course I asked everyone at the yard sale to look at it.

"Looks like a pimple to me."
"It's a cyst."
"It's not cancer."
"Stop touching eet." (Mom)
"It might be cancer."
"Maybe it's that flesh eating thing."
"That little thing? It's nothing."
"Isn't that how Swine Flu starts, on your ear?"
"Mon Dieu, stop touching eet." (You know who)

Dr. Hurty Ear said the blob on my ear was from a new disease going around. The dreaded SLEEPING ON ONE SIDE TOO LONG and irritating the cartilage. The remedy? SLEEP ON THE OTHER SIDE. I had to pay $100 just to turn over. So I took a free 0.5 oz. sample of spf 70 sunblock because airlines must be flying to the sun these days.

I was cleaning out my medicine chest one day a few years ago and found a tube of hemorrhoid cream. It wasn't Preparation H but it had hemorrhoid use written on it. Did someone sneak it into my medicine chest? You know, the hemorrhoidal guest who puts it on in your bathroom and then forgets he doesn't live there and leaves it in your medicine cabinet? God, do I even KNOW people like that?

I threw it out.

So while I was in the waiting room yesterday I sat across from a girl who had all this goop on her skin. Then she kept sniffing into a Kleenex so I thought maybe she was in trouble (dying in the waiting room) so I asked her if she was all right. She said she was there for laser treatments, her third in a series. I couldn't help but notice she had really bad cystic acne.

The goop on her face was numbing cream and so much had dropped on her lips that she looked like Lisa Rinna. She held up a jar of lidocaine and said she bought it at Dr. Hurty Ear's.

Then I went into a trance and vaguely remembered that one time when I was in NY I went to a Plastic Surgeon's with a friend and I heard the nurse say they had numbing cream for sale. So I bought some for my Botox treatments in L.A. I got back to Hollywood and stuck it in my medicine chest and promptly stopped having regular Botox treatments.


End of chat.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Post Mortem Memorial Day

Before we got up at zero-dark-hundred hours on Saturday morning, I took this picture of Ofelia the day before, modeling a boa I gave her from our show Single, Married & Divorced. Look at all my junk behind her on the floor. The Marilyn Monroe hanging on the wall behind her is a Milton Greene lithograph that I bought in Paris with the first paycheck I got from performing. Ofelia might not have in her teeth in this photo because she's got that closed mouth smile going on. She also chain smokes and drinks and two weeks ago pulled into our back parking lot and braked too late and hit the wall. I laughed and then prayed she wouldn't run into my car by accident. Or on purpose.

Two days before the sale she gave me a pair of tights from her wholesale store and said, "These will help keep your stomach in." If I didn't need them so much I would have slugged her but instead I took them and mumbled "thank you."
Remember those 5 frightful items that I showcased? Mr. Sailor Man ended up in the building, because Joe wanted him. Joe faithfully and anonymously took out the garbage I set outside my door while I was recuperating last summer. He had been doing it for a while and when I finally caught him and thanked him he replied "That's what neighbors do for each other." So I just gave him the wooden man. So now I have to see it every day instead of just when I open the storage unit. I mentioned I was on God's black list, right?

The lava lamp from psycho ex-boyfriend I gave to Ophelia because she wanted it. The flowered mailbox and weird ass fish ended up in the trunk of my car, going to the HIV/AID's charity I give to, Out of the Closet, the ones that do free HIV testing and provide free healthcare to those who can't afford it. And now they're getting that miserable fish. I guess I should pin an apology note to it.The Obamas sold for $5.00. Most of the stuff we just gave away. One guy was holding a bottle of Popov Vodka and tried to pay me a dollar for something I got for free. Thinking like the ex-vodka drinker I used to be I turned down the dollar and just gave him the item. It was a bumper sticker that said "Oh get up; you're not drunk."

We left a ton of stuff outside by the curb and by the next morning it was all gone. Including my mother.

End of chat.

Friday, May 22, 2009

It's Everybody Can Bite Me Friday!

Do you have a homeless drawer like this? If I could recognize everything in it I'd sell it tomorrow at the yard sale. I've got 10 electrical cords with that big ass plug on it and no idea why I keep them. I see people at other yard sales trying to pawn them off and no one ever buys them because they have a homeless drawer of their own.

So I'm hanging out with Ofelia the manager off and on today and she says ""So when am I going to see what you've done?"

Not understanding I point to parts of my face as I rattle off "eye job, upper and lower, a nose job and a half, gortex..."

She starts laughing and says, "NO, what you've done on TV."


I now commence emotional boxing, a team sport, with my mother who is in from Paris FOR THE NEXT 6 WEEKS.

Maman is staying chez ma soeur so I take Round One. Today over the phone I told her I had gained weight and she said, "But your sister says you look thin" so I told her I now weigh 128 and she says, "That's not thin, is it?"

If you're French, I guess not.

Me - 1
Maman - 1

End of chat.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

The Answer Is Never What You Think

The year that poster was put on that pole was 2001. And every time I passed it, I, an original thinker, always said to myself, "Wow, is that thing still there?"

Lyndsay was the only one who got it right. Congratulations Lyndsay! Your prize? You get to keep reading this blog until I piss you off. You won't have to wait long.

I took the picture in October of 2006. We have no winter in L.A. AND I'M SO FASCINATING I'M TALKING ABOUT THE WEATHER and I have so turned into my parents. In a minute I'm going to ask someone how their meal was and have they seen the cherry blossoms this season and the mockingbirds on the window ledge now eat raisins. (Dad)

Ofelia, the building manager, came by today and gave me this red sleeveless top from a wholesale shop downtown, where she used to work. Having just found the weird stuff on my ear I demur and say that I really didn't want to wear a top that all but has an engraved invitation to get more weird stuff on my arms and would she like to see my ear? (Mom)

"My mother had one of those on her lip. The doctor operated on her and it was cancer and then she died."
"Holy shit." (I started crying in my head)
"She couldn't eat and I kept telling her not to have the surgery but she wouldn't listen."
"Did she die right away?" (I'm trying not to faint in my head)
"No, about five years after the surgery."
"So she died of the cancer?" (Now I'm just trying not to vomit all over myself or her in my head)
"Oh no, she died of heart failure."



End of chat.

L.A. Sign Of The Times #41

This sign is still on this pole. Can anyone tell what year it was?

Monday, May 18, 2009

My Posts Are Getting Shorter And Shorter

Maybe Twitter is for me after all.


Everyone sending in their urls to reconstruct my Blog Links, if you want to be on it, you have to TELL ME me since I'm not presumptuous enough to think everyone who writes me wants that. And my ESP is down.

Sunday, May 17, 2009


There is nothing worse than walking around your darkened apt NAKED when an earthquake hits.

Did They Remove The Good Part Of My Brain? Do I Even Have A Good Part Left?

Vodka Mom and I have to get a divorce and now I have to marry Suburban Correspondent.

She helped me find my Blog Roll. I was looking in the wrong place. I was not up on my Blogger words so people were writing me things like:

Dear Lost Brain Waves,

Just click on "add a gadget."

And I'd write back:

Dear Person Trying To Help Me,

I don't HAVE that and now I don't even want to PUT IT BACK even if I do find it because I think my time would be better spent losing more things.

I had no idea about customize and was all up in the layout 'hood. I've started putting the list back together but now I have an abnormal fear of anything I touch. If you want to be on my blog links, please send me your url and ON YOU GO.

Heidi and I were talking about this; is BlogHer's ad now bigger than the state of California?

Shelfari is still MIA. I give up.

End of chat.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

A Nice Annoying Weekend Like Every Other

Remember when I lost my Chanel sunglasses? Well, wherever they are, they took my Blog Roll with them. I can't even find the widget in the layout. Before you accuse me of being careless and retarded you should know that I am.

Monday I have a doctor's appointment with my Dermatologist to check this weird thing. At the top of my ear, it hurts. Who else gets dumb shit like that on parts of the body you never touch? So I was all calm about it until I lost my Blog Roll. That triggered an OMG I'VE GOT 5 SECONDS TO LIVE and that was BEFORE I watched Farrah's Story last night.

The first and only time I saw her was one night at the Improv on Melrose. I didn't even know she was there but I saw a group of men crowded around someone. That's not too unusual because it's a giant boy's club. But I went to look so I could bad mouth them later to all the funny chick comics like Tommy James and they were around Farrah, who was sitting by herself. She quietly signed autographs and let her picture be taken over and over but there was something off about the situation. Like the time I was with Lucille Ball in that elevator and couldn't talk after I saw what she did.

I wrote about it in November of 2006 and they said she was diagnosed in September of that year unless I'm going deaf from the weird hurty ear top.

During the show she kept repeating that she just wanted her life back and I've been saying that about my own life since last summer. Mine is getting there and I hope Farrah gets that chance.

Love the one you're with. Or bash them over the head and run like hell. Your choice.

End of chat.

Friday, May 15, 2009

The Obamas At The White House

Where is the other Obama girl? I'm thinking the new dog Bo ate her. "Never trust a dog wearing a lei."~ The Dog Whisperer, Cesar Milan.

So that's just some of the stuff that's been hiding in the storage unit over the last 10 years. I do decorate differently than most people. I've never wanted my place to look like a hotel room. There's nothing worse than a place that says, WELCOME TO SOMETHING YOU'VE SEEN EVERYWHERE.

Sidebar: The lava lamp is being sold. It was a gift from an ex. An ex-psycho.

The cross over the self portrait of my mother is made entirely of bottle caps with Jesus in the middle. It makes me laugh and I'm sorry about that BUT IT DOES. The mirror was hand made by my sister's ex-boyfriend Brent (who we still love and adore). The yellow vase on the French Provincial desk is from Shanghai.
The wall art next to the poster is bullet casings by Maddy LeMel. It represents every hit I took in show business. That's an original 1958 poster of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. The 1940 era movie seats are from The Pasadena Flea Market.
The French poster of Some Like it Hot I got off Craig's List. The 1950's TV, which I use as an end table, I bought in Florida for $75. They go for $500 out here. Vintage TVs are impossible to find in LA because everyone collects. I had been on waiting lists in various shops all over LA trying to get one but never scored.

I sent the TV back to LA and it cost me $500. Irony, party of one.

The 1930's slot machine belonged to my dad. The painting above it was sent to me by a reader. The bookcase holds my vintage microphone collection and every book on standup ever written.

Thanks for all the new readers but DUDES, where are the VOTES? (I got two) And don't forget the cookie detectors. If you're voting from different dummy accounts on one computer, you're pretty much fucked.

End of chat.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Do I Even Need To Explain This One?

Thanks Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae. THANKS BAILOUT MONEY. Thanks U.S government. Great job!! And I especially want to thank The Impotentate, one of my exes who profited GREATLY as a mortgage broker and became a multimillionaire.

I'm a leeeeeetle off topic (ya think?) BUT did I mention I spent 4 years dealing with his impotency and never complained or belittled him? Did I mention that? HUH? DID I? DID I? Go catch up on us by clicking on the label below. ESPECIALLY IF YOU WANT TO FEEL SUPERIOR TO ME AND FRANKLY, WHO DOESN'T WANT THAT?

Did I mention he's a multimillionaire? Did I mention I'm not?

God I am SUCH an asshole.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

It's Possible I'm Legally Blind

Anyone who knows me well knows I hate traditional, cataloguey shit. I'm an original. It's how I made my living as a standup comic and how I decorate.

I came across this mailbox and even though I wanted an official U.S.P.S. silver one, this was the only one I found. I wanted to turn it into a trashcan for the bathroom. When it was full, I would put the flag up because this meant it was time to empty it. I thought I was a genius until I realized I lived alone and I'm not a little bit country.

Monday, May 11, 2009

Sometimes I Go Shopping Blindfolded

I have a storage unit attached to my apartment. Sometimes when I walk by I hear "Please get us out of here."

They have a roof over their heads and they're not on fire. Rude.

So I thought I'd show you some of the things I'm selling at our neighborhood yard sale on May 23. First up, what the fuck IS this? Do I have a giant hungry cat that I don't know about? Did I buy it at The Mall of America Plastic Zoo of Budapest? WHY WOULD I HAVE BOUGHT THIS? And don't ask "Was this before you were medicated?"

After this 5 day series of hideous pictures (unless you like them and then I'll be all codependent and like them too) I'd better get some Blogger's Choice Awards votes out of this. And no, I'm not in the Best Worst Taste category.


Friday, May 08, 2009

It's Everybody Can Bite Me Friday!

I can't afford my shrink. She's $350. an hour. Okay, Get up off the floor and clean up the tomato juice you spilled on your brand new white blouse and keep reading. She costs about 34 dresses at Wal Mart. But there's an alternative, I can go for FIFTEEN minutes for little checkups and they cost $110. or 7 dresses at Marshall's. Or 5 Starbucks. Or a vial of cyanide.

Yesterday I ended it. I'm fine. Except for the numb hands and spinal stenosis and no health insurance. I will go to my mother's in Paris and have it done there FOR FREE. Why the United States can't take care of their citizens who have health problems and were stupid enough to go into show business just breaks my heart since I was born with bone problems. AND NOT THE RIGHT KIND OF BONE PROBLEMS.

Mom arrives here on the 20th of May. By the time she leaves, SIX WEEKS LATER, I will have re-thought that freebie in France.

End of chat.

Thursday, May 07, 2009

Tattoos Are For Losers

I was standing in line at the supermarket and there was a man standing VERY close to me. I moved up a few inches and then he followed me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him staring at my left upper arm. I moved, he moved. I've had 2 stalkers in this neighborhood, one was 16 and one was in this forties and used to stand in line backwards so he could stare at me. It's possible I was naked.

But this new stalker was clearing staring and deciding whether to slap the snake, the tarantula or the swine flu off my arm.

"Excuse me sir, is there something on my arm?"
"Uhhh, yeah."
"Is it a bug?"
"No, it's a weird tattoo."
"I don't have any tattoos. I'm from a good family."
"Well, you got one now."
"Then a woman took out a mirror to SHOW me the tattoo I don't have."
"Ohhhhh, that's a burn." He said.
"A burn in the shape of a belt buckle?" The woman said.
"Ridiculous huh?"
"Don't belts go around the waist?" I asked.
"So you put a belt around your arm and got a TATTOO?" The woman was clearly afraid of me."
"That's a first degree burn." Stalkerwannabedoctor said.
"How do you know that?"
"How long have you had it?"
"I don't know, more than a week."
"Did you put anything on it?"
"You mean like butter?
"Welcome to your first tattoo."

When I finally saw it at my house, I realized I got it from my seat belt. I guess I need classes on how to put a seat belt on in 200 degree heat.


I went to El Shrinko de Mayo yesterday and as I was going in one door, an overweight black guy in the the music business was coming out of the door next to my shrinks.

"How you doin'?" he smiled.
"I'm doin' great, how about you?"
"I'm doing great too."
"I'm lying." I responded.
"Yeah, me too," he laughed.

End of chat.

Wednesday, May 06, 2009

Someone Else Gets To Carry The Burden That Is Me

I don't even know what that title means. But Ann from Ann's Rants, if indeed that IS her real name, I'm so confused by everyone's fake names, fake family names, fake office names and fake animal names that I've started to call myself Shirley.

When you read over 100 blogs and you have to remember who's who and who did what to whom and who is cheating and who lost weight and who's champion of their bowling league, I QUIT. I only use one fake name in my blog and I haven't even used it in over a year and a half. He might be dead but that's another story entirely. (substitute the word 'might' for 'wish' and you're ALL caught up)

Ann=possible fake name=interviewed me. So go here if you're not entirely clear on my sanity. I'll be at the shrink's if there are any questions.

Love, Shirley

Tuesday, May 05, 2009

Monday, May 04, 2009

We Are Bad And We Love It

I DO NOT MESS AROUND. If you're getting on my last available nerve, I will do something about it unless the cops are in my neighborhood. And if they're cute cops, I got that covered.

I'm a Scorpio. If you know your horoscope, you know many things about us. We're the sex sign of the Zodiac and if you happen to cross us, run. I give you two times to fuck me over and by the third, you're history. Scorpios are the most loyal sign of the Zodiac. We will do anything for you and you will never find a more consistent friend than a Scorpio, unless you're a total douchebag and I don't have time to list all those people right now because I have to do my Xmas shopping.

Back in New York City in the late 80's, the top of our 65 unit apartment building was finished with redwood decking, potted plants, benches and other outdoor accoutrements. Even though the building was only 6 stories, the roof had a lovely view of the East River. The mayor's residence, Gracie Mansion, sat off to the right almost on top of the boardwalk that ran from the East 90's straight down to the East 60's. Giant oil tankers drifted up and down the East River, tugboats nudging them gently so they wouldn't careen into the oncoming water lanes. So needless to say, this rooftop garden quickly became our building hangout. We would take our books and magazines and slip into bathing suits and soak up the sun and cruise the hot gay guys since the heteros weren't that cute in our building. You know, like in real life.

Then one of the tenants, who happened to work at a law office but WAS NOT A LAWYER, decided that the rooftop garden was just begging for drug addicts and thieves to climb up one of the fire escapes, cross over the 2 feet of barbed wire, break down the door that locked from the inside, and murder and pillage at will. She called the management company and within weeks the roof was closed.

We all bitched for weeks so finally I came up with a plan. I enlisted my friend Betty and we decided to scare the shit out of the old lady. She wasn't really old, maybe 36 or something but we called her that because she was acting like an old lady. I donned a pair of rubber gloves, and on a legal pad of paper I had purchased WITH GLOVES ON, took a pen and wrote her a threat with my left hand, because I am right-handed. Seriously, I could work for the C.I.A. The note said she was to cease and desist or she would cease to exist. Then I signed it Your Neighbors. Then, again with gloves, we folded the note, put it in a newly purchased envelope, bought with the same gloves, and in the middle of the night, slipped it under her door. I don't remember if we licked the envelope. I don't remember when DNA testing started either, so let's hope I just folded in the flap and left it at that. I hope my next post isn't from prison.

Days went by and after a week, the roof reopened. Then another week went by and we all had a flyer slipped under our doors from the management company. It said that NYPD was checking into any threats to anyBODY and that this was something they were taking very seriously. Of course Betty and I went around the building saying, "Oh my GOD, what are they talking about, who could have DONE this?"

When I first moved to LA, there was some derelict who lived in our building who had a car that was about 147 years old. Every morning at 6 a.m. he would turn the key in the ignition and rev the engine of that piece of crap for what seemed like hours, but was probably only 5 minutes. Being the Queen of Insomnia, it only took the engine turning over one time to blast me awake. After two weeks of this, I decided it was time to once again become the vigilante I was clearly meant to be. I wrote him a note that said, "Stop gunning your engine at the crack of dawn or we'll make sure your car will never start again." Then I signed it Your Neighbors. The next morning I heard him come out of the back door and instead of going straight for his car door, knew he had stopped to pick up the envelope under the windshield wiper and read it. He then got into his car, turned the engine over, sputtered out the back and chugged down the street. When he got to the stoplight at the end of our street, THEN he gunned the engine, which I'm sure thrilled all the apartment dwellers down on that end. He moved out less than 6 months later.

Don't EVER fuck with a Scorpio. E V E R. We are the Don Corleones of the Zodiac. We have learned that when a friend fucks with us once, they will fuck with us forever. Ask all my Scorpio friends. Right Bee?

Your neighbors.

Friday, May 01, 2009

It's Everyone Can Bite Me Friday!

Okay, your answers were phenomenal. Some were so funny and some were so clever and most of you were right. It's an outhouse. I didn't know what it was because I'm the Urban Queen. I thought it was an armoire that I could put venetian glass on.It's locked up because they saw me coming. Try and keep this in mind, being funnier than me is STRICTLY FROWNED UPON AND WILL LAND YOU A GIG AT A NUDIST CAMP.

Is Google Reader displaying differently or did I just hit the wrong button and now everything is in bullet form? I HATE IT.

I think I've mentioned I bleach my own hair. 3 times a year I use a different color of blond and the end product is natural. Everyone always asks me who does my hair and I tell them my secret. But one of my arms is not cooperating and something is ripped, torn or flesh eating around my left biceps, which I believe is the first sign of Swine Flu. So I was lying in bed 2 nights ago and came up with this great idea. I was going to pour the bleach on a fairly wide-toothed comb and just comb my hair, leaving it for the full 30 minutes.

By the next day it occurred to me I might end up with pin striped hair. But I did it anyway and I'm going to keep doing it this way because it's EASY. I'm an ash blonde irl so the differences are minimal. I'M A GENIUS and am going to open The Pin Striped Hair Salon.

Residents of Los Angeles are among the dumbest people I've ever met. The easier the job, the more stupid they become. Especially when it comes to money.

Once I came home from a tour of Canada and took my Canadian dollars to the bank.

"How much are these worth today?"
"The same as an American Dollar."
"No they're not."
"Yes they are."
"No. They're NOT."

It was the teller next to him. He looked over at her and she shook her head no in the most imperceptible way.

Another day another teller got mad at me because I made a deposit and only wanted $10.00 back.
"Ten dollars?"
"Why don't you take twenty; most people take twenty."
"I only need ten."

She rolled her eyes at me like I was the dumbest fork in a box of hair and handed me a twenty. I didn't say anything but walked outside and looked at my receipt and although she had given me twenty, the receipt said she gave me ten. To reward her for her condescension, I kept the twenty.

I never used to do this. I always pointed out their error but no one ever said "Gee, I'm as dumb as a fork in a box of hair." So after a while I thought I should go into The Wrong Change Business. Yesterday I went to the corner store and got two items. One was 9.98 and the other was 1.25. She rang it up as 5.23. I even asked her if that's all I owed. She said yes so I gave her a ten and she gave me 4 dollars in change. This economy is probably so fucked up because bank lenders and car dealers can't do math. I'm assuming the current government, when bailing out AIG and GM, promised them 75 billion but gave them 156 billion.

Don't buy Michael J. Fox's new book Always Looking Up unless you really want to read 50 pages of how the stem cell research and bill went throuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. He used the word 'inchoate' 3 times in the book.

Which means I had to look it up 3 times. And now I have to go pay my rent. AGAIN.

End of chat.