Better every year!

Ha!  I posted that cheesy pic of myself in my new jeans on Facebook and got 22 comments, all favorable except one:

See?  As awesome as it must be to have a cool mom who gives amazing advice and can do your resume and fly you out to Vegas whenever you want, there is a down side.  Yes, there is a down side...

I love those freakin' jeans, "age appropriate" or not.

I've come to the conclusion that I'm actually a 21-year-old trapped in a 30-year-old body.  HAHAHAHA!!! OMG, I just reached a new level of assholiness!  And you're here to witness it.

Anyway, I'm totally digging that show Girls on HBO.  Are you watching it?  Twenty-four-year-old Lena Dunham is the writer and executive producer, and man, that chick is talented.  The website calls it "a comic look at the humiliations and rare triumphs of a group of girls in their early 20s," and if you don't think that would interest you, let me tell you I can't believe the sex scenes in this show.  I'm gonna sound like a prude, despite the fact that I'm the owner of those spankin' hot jeans, but I think those scenes are a bit over the top.  Like seriously close to pornographic, which I never cared for.  Because I'm a prude.  Ironically.

At any rate, it's written with full-frontal honesty--pun intended--and the acting is superb.  Lena Dunham plays the main character, Hannah, and she's a real person, not a size 0 Hollywood definition of how a 20-something should look.  In the first show, her parents tell her they'll no longer support her, and you know how I feel about parents paying cell phone bills and car insurance for their 25-year-old supposed-to-be-adult children.

I really do like young people, though (once they get past the Disneyland age), and nothing thrills me more than hearing from a girl in her 20s or in college who's read my book.  I also get a kick when teenagers friend me on Facebook.  In fact, this comment came from a high school senior:

I love life!  Would I ever want to be 24 again?  No fucking way!  I get better every year.  Don't you?

I've outdone myself

Remember I told you that black people freakin' love my comedy?  I wasn't kidding.  Last night I did a set out at Choice's Pub and knocked it out of the park.  I was the only white comic; it was me and six black guys.  The crowd was also mostly all black--out of forty or so people, I think there were about five of us who would check the Caucasian box on a job application.  I just think it's so funny that I go over so well with that demographic.

Hey, I have to show you the new kick-ass jeans I'm wearing tonight.

Yes, I know they are totally age inappropriate and nothing that anyone's grandmother should wear, but guess what?  Tough shit!  I'm rockin' these babies!  (But look at that cheesy pose--I'm such an a-hole.)

No surprise, I bought them at the bike fest down in Laughlin a couple of weeks ago.  I was on the fence, wondering if I was too old to wear stuff like this, but the woman selling them was about my age (or else she had a hard life--you never know) and she looked awesome, plus my friend Donna talked me into buying them.  I'm glad I did--they're fun as hell!

I have to admit I wasn't sure how they would go over with the husb; he's a lot more conservative than I am.  He loves them on me, but I'm quite sure he thinks of them as my "Wear only with Mike" jeans.  No problem--I always assure him that 1) nobody could ever steal me away from him, and 2) if they did, it would be like The Ransom of Red Chief and they'd be begging him to take me off their hands.

Anyway, as I'm writing this at 10:30 p.m., I'm getting psyched for the Comedy All-Nighter 2 at Boomer's, the bar where I did stand-up for the very first time.  Comics will be taking the stage starting at 11:59 and continuing all night until 8:00 a.m.  I went last year and had a ball, and lasted until the sun came up. 

So yes, I'll be partying all night in my rockin' biker jeans.  Just your typical Vegas Granny.  Anybody have a problem with that?

All over the map with JazzFest, Disneyland, and gay marriage

You guessed right--we were in New Orleans for JazzFest.  If you've never been, you must.  You must!  Why?  Check out my post from 2009, "10 Reasons to Go to JazzFest Next Year."  In the two days we took in (there are seven days total over two weekends), we caught The Eagles, Bonnie Raitt, The Neville Brothers, Galactic, Steve Earle, My Morning Jacket, Foo Fighters, Asleep at the Wheel, and many local and regional zydeco, blues, jazz, and gospel artists.  Unbelievable.

This was Mike's first JazzFest, and it was cool to share the experience with him.

I've been to New Orleans about 16 times--14 JazzFests and two other visits.  I love the music, the food, the people, and the energy.  On the downside, it's filthy and smelly and I wouldn't walk around there alone at night, even in the tourist-packed French Quarter.  There are too many dark alleys and crevices and, surprisingly, almost no police presence.  In my opinion, they could use a lot more cops on the beat.  But the good certainly outweighs the bad, so if you've never been, you're in for a treat.

During JazzFest, the hotel prices in town are out of sight, so we stay in the suburbs in Metairie.  The airport is crazy on the Monday after the Fest, so we always leave on Tuesday and spend Monday night in the Quarter, when the hotel rates are lower.

Here's something to consider when you're traveling, especially when there's a bunch of you:  Instead of packing everybody into a regular old hotel room, look for timeshares in the area.  Don't worry, you don't have to commit to a full week; most timeshares rent out units on a nightly basis just as hotels do.  The accommodations are generally much better--we got a two bedroom unit with a living room and kitchenette across the street from the French Market for only $190.  There was plenty of room for the five of us, and split five ways, it was a good, cheap deal. 

I have to show you the picture hanging on the wall in the bedroom Mike and I stayed in.

I thought that was funny.  Not a photo portraying the charm of New Orleans, but a motivational poster for enthusiasm!?  (You're probably wondering how I could sleep with a picture of a bird in the room.) 

Oh, how I love to travel!  I have two more trips on the horizon--one back to Albany, which I'm really looking forward to, and the other to... FML... Disneyland.  So NOT looking forward to that one, but it's part of my wifey/stepmother duties.  I really, really, really do not want to go--I could barely get through LEGOLAND last year (see this post), and I know this will be a hundred times worse.  I'm not a kid person and I hear Disneyland is full of birds.  Plus I can't stand all that Disney shit.  So if I fall off the bloggy grid in the next couple of months, you'll know I faked my own death. 

Or...  Oh, this is a great idea.  OMG, I am so brilliant.   Shhhh.... keep this quiet.  I'll suggest we wait to visit Disneyland in the fall when it's much cooler.  In fact, let's go October 5-7.  Yes, that would be the perfect celebration for the weekend after my birthday.  Oh, and honey, be sure to wear that nice red shirt I bought for you...  Perfect!  (Click this link to get the joke.)  Now, that's something I could handle!

On a related note, I hope I never have to set foot in North Carolina again.

Shameful.  Thank you, President Obama, for being the first president to support gay marriage.  It's about freakin' time.

Home, sweet freakin' home

Aaaaahhhhh....

What a wonderful sight to see!  Mike and I left last Friday afternoon and after three full days and four nights of sheer revelry with my sister Lori, brother-in-law Russ, and friends Donna, Dennis, and Jerry, I am exhausted!  Exhausted and fat--I can't bear to step on the scales tomorrow.  That is not going to be pretty.  Oh, but all the FUN was well worth it!  Plus, we walked miles and miles every day; that should count for something.

I have a ton of email and other stuff to catch up on--if I owe you something, you'll be hearing from me soon.  I also want to respond to the very thoughtful comments you left on Saturday's post.  I'm tired as hell right now, so I'll give you the full report on Thursday.  

So where did we go?  Here's a hint:

Still can't figure it out?  Oh, now I'm giving it away:

More to come...

Stay tuned...

Hey, I slipped away when you weren't looking. On my way back to Vegas today; I'll post with details of my adventure later. I'm pecking away on my iPhone right now--more to come!

Nope, I am definitely not a feminist

(I'm writing this in a hurry, so forgive any grammar mistakes.)  (That means you, Mom.) :)

I so love the comments you left on my last post.  Today I want to talk about the double standard when it comes to the notion that "sex sells" and why we see so many half-to-mostly naked women in advertisements and selling things in real life and hardly any seductive men.

First, let's face it:  It's a man's world.  I realized this back in 1991 when they delayed the broadcast of The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson to tell us that Magic Johnson had AIDS.  I'm sure he's a lovely man, but Magic Johnson was just one of many equally famous sports stars--it wasn't like, holy shit, the greatest athlete of all time has AIDS.  I remember thinking, what woman would be so important that the announcement of her disease would necessitate the delay of the Johnny Carson show?  Over 20 years later, I still don't have an answer to that question.

Don't get me wrong--I love men.  LOVE!  They are fucking awesome.  But it's not lost on me that they're ultimately running the show.  And guess what?  Men aren't so keen on seeing other men half naked.  (Unless they're gay, but it's safe to say they're not the ones I'm referring to as being in control.)  So that's one reason why (female) sex sells. 

Another reason why we don't see men selling their wares in Speedos is--and let me know if I'm wrong about this--women are simply not that turned on by the perfect male form.

Let me explain, and keep in mind this is coming only from my own perspective.  The male body in itself means nothing to us because a body is just a body; women don't get turned unless there's an emotional attachment.  Even when I was single, I never had any desire to see the Chippendale's or Thunder Down Under.  Why would I  be fawning over someone I didn't even know?  Besides that, too-perfect male bodies are intimidating to us; we're not secure enough about our own bodies to be with, or even appreciate from afar, a guy's body that's too sculpted.  Not to mention, we also presume there's underlying ego issues beneath all those muscles and all that time in the gym that we simply don't want to deal with.  Real men have meat--and fat--on their bones!

Seriously, give me a guy with a gut any day.  To me, that's the sexiest part of a man.  I remember when the Crocodile Hunter died and they were showing a clip of him wrestling a croc in the water and his shirt came up and revealed his stomach--I was like, god-damn, that's hot!  Manly, yes!


Whew!  Now, where was I?  Oh, yeah.  One more thing.  Women--and I'm talking straight women, not just lesbians--would much rather see a hot female body.  When we see an amazingly shaped female, we're blown away because we know what it takes to achieve that, whether it's by disciplined diet and exercise or sheer luck with the gene pool.  It's no secret that women look at other women more than we look at men.  As I say in my book, I'm not going to learn any beauty tips from a 230-pound rugby player.  But they do have their place...

So I guess the bottom line is, women are the tits. And that's why we see so many of them.  Don't you agree?

You're never too old for your first wet T-shirt contest (to watch, I mean) (duh)

So let me tell you more about the River Run bike fest down in Laughlin last week.

Well, it took me 54 years to witness my first wet T-shirt contest and my friend Donna and I agreed it was nowhere near as skanky as I imagined those things to be.  It was held in a parking lot of one of the casinos, so being in an open space like that, they had to have some controls.  Like the contestants had to wear pasties, so you couldn't really see anything through their shirts, anyway, as they pranced about on stage.

One of the contestants was gorgeous and the rest ranged from attractive to, um, not so much.  Despite the fact that Ms. Gorgeous had a bubbly personality and even did a split on stage, she only came in second.  The winner was a good looking woman whom the announcer made sure we all knew was 42 years old.  Forty-two years old!!!  He made it sound like she was ancient.  The winner was determined by the round of applause, and the crowd clearly dug the fact that she was age of GILF not MILF, so she strutted off with first place and a couple of hundred dollars. 

I thought that was cool.  Now, there was another woman in the contest who was 53, but...  not to sound like an a-hole...  but she wasn't a "Linda Lou 53," if you know what I mean, and the crowd didn't give her quite as warm a reception.  And there were some women on that stage whose time really, really would have been better spent somewhere else (like in a library or gym, or even at the dentist).  All in all, though, there was an vibe of  good fun, and like I said, the overall skank factor was low.

Afterward we headed over to the lot where my hot friend Adrian was selling beer.

Donna and I watched her with sheer jealousy admiration as she teased and joked with her patrons.  Everybody wanted to have their pictures taken with her (I didn't, of course--see last post!)  How interesting it was to see both men and women react to this magnificent physical form, who BTW, also has a killer personality.   What must that be like? Donna and I wondered.  I mean, I've experienced a tiny bit of that type of admiring attention at book signings and after comedy gigs, but it certainly wasn't because of my looks. 

So is it wrong to earn money from wet T-shirt and other contests, or get crazy tips simply because of the way you look?  Is that degrading to women?

I say, HELL, NO!!!*

Hey, if you've got it, flaunt it.  Make the most of it.  Earn money from it. Enter every contest you can.  It's almost cliche, but there really are "dancers" who use their earnings to pay for tuition or otherwise better their lives.  Nothing wrong with it, in my opinion.  (Let me make it clear that I'm talking about emotionally healthy, non-abused adult women who participant by their own free will.)

So why the asterisk *?  Okay, this is where I get picky-picky.  I think it's okay to use your looks as a means to an end, but you have to have something else going on.  Real beauty comes from the inside out, and that's the type that never fades.  If all you have is good looks, the day will come where you'll be crying in the beer you didn't sell.   Adrian did some of the contests down in Laughlin this year, but according to her Facebook page, that's the end of it.  Next stop:  nursing school.

Your thoughts?

This year's adventures at the Laughlin River Run

Usually I go to the annual Laughlin River Run bike fest on the Saturday of the event, but this year my pal Donna had tickets to see Bon Jovi Saturday night, so we both took last Friday off from work and headed down the highway.

I've attended the River Run every year since 2008, when I wrote this piece, back when I was a columnist for www.living-las-vegas.com.  Longtime readers know that I'm not really a biker chick--I'm too Private Benjamin/Princess and the Pea for motorcycles--but I do love the biker culture.   The music is always great and anything goes--no one cares what you're wearing or if you're overweight or your roots are in dire need of a touch-up. Everyone's just out for a good time. That's liberating.

That said, as a general rule of thumb, whatever you wear should probably cover your ass crack.

Oh, my.  Like, wouldn't you think he'd feel a little breeze down there?  This is terrible, but that kind of looks like my father.  Like if my father was a biker dude instead of a bus driver.

Anyway, here I am sporting a Harley tank top my sister Lori Biker gave me. 

 

I'm such a poser, huh?  Noooo, I can't get on a motorcycle!  The helmet will mess up my hair!

So it's kind of obvious that I didn't just get off a bike. But Donna and I were noticing that this year there were a LOT of people there who didn't look like bikers.  I mean, we saw people pushing baby strollers and guys in freakin' golf shirts!  Interesting.

My friend Adrian was working there again this year, selling beer in the parking lot of one of the casinos on the Laughlin Strip.  Adrian is not only freakin' hot, she's the nicest, sweetest, funniest person.  I mean hilarious.  She asked me about doing stand-up and I'm going to encourage that big time.  She's a natural. 

(I know I have a bunch of new male readers who will thank me for that one!)

Adrian insisted we get a few pictures together and I was like, "Get the fuck out of here.  I'm pretty good looking until I stand next to you!"  But I can't resist her, so she won.

I just want you to know that smile on my face is totally fake. My self-esteem isn't strong enough to stand next to a size 0 without crying on the inside.  I have more to tell you about our day in Laughlin, but right now I need to do my Buns of Steel video.  A hundred times.

To be continued on Thursday...

Oh, happy day!

A while back my daughter, Courtney, had a series of posts on Facebook called "30 Days of Happiness."  These are short reminders of the beautiful little things life has to offer, if we just look for them.  Court started it up again this week, and I just have to share.

Courtney Blackwell's 30 Days of Happiness, Day 1:

I've been feeling pretty down lately. It is amazing how in a blink of an eye, your whole entire being can change. Just. Like. That. But this morning, my sweet little 2-year-old filled my heart with so much happiness; it literally felt like it might explode. It was the type of joy I have been craving lately.

All morning, Hazel wore her "baby" Toni (previously known as Tony) in a mama-made dolly sling. The way she kissed Toni and how she rubbed her head gently was just so sweet. She walked around the house with Toni, sang to her and hugged her. Watching Hazel's mama skills was absolutely heartwarming. And then I realized something. Wow, she is nurturing her baby the only way she knows how to. By imitating, well, her mama.

I have never felt so proud of myself.

This morning, Hazel unknowingly reminded me how blessed I am to have raised such a gentle little soul. She reminded me that even when life is crappy, there is much more goodness to it. Her simple gestures have prompted me to remember to live in the current moment and make it exactly how I want it to be.

Is Hazel an earth angel? I think so.

Have a wonderful weekend and don't forget to LOVE EVERY MINUTE!

Typical night for Las Vegas locals

I should probably get my hearing checked.  This morning I was on the phone changing my address with a credit card company and the customer service rep asked me a question for security purposes, which I thought was just a little too personal. 

"What's my favorite sex name?" I asked.

"Um, no, ma'am.  Your favorite pet's name."

Oh.  That's very different.

Anyway, yesterday I was in the most piss-poor, "I hate everything" mood but everything changed by dinnertime.  My friend Warren, a great guy who struck up a conversation with me on a Southwest flight last year and hasn't been able to get rid of me since, is here from Albany and he took us out for a fantastic meal at The Bootlegger.  Forget low carbs for a night--this place is worth every gram!  The food is always delicious and if you're in town on a Monday night, check out their open mic cabaret.  You'll be entertained by a variety of top notch performers, most of them coming straight from their acts on the Strip.  You never know who will drop in.

After dinner we headed over to the Tropicana to catch a show at the Laugh Factory.  (If you're a Vegas local and don't have a membership to Fill A Seat, don't wait another day.  It will pay for itself in no time.)  I have to give a plug for the opening comic, Andrew Norelli.  Hilarious material and a likeable persona--the perfect combination.   Mike and I were both like, "This guy has what it takes."  He won The World Series of Comedy here in Las Vegas in 2010 and has made some impressive national TV appearances.  Here's a clip from his performance on Craig Furguson.



BTW, the Trop is looking good these days.  I don't think I've been in there since Mom and Stepdaddy got married in the chapel in 2006.  It's an old property, but they've done a good job hippin' it up.  Besides, there's nothing wrong with an old Vegas property, right? 

Afterward, as the three of us walked through the outdoor parking lot in beautiful 70-degree weather, Warren said, "So this is just a typical Wednesday night for you. You two are so lucky."  Yup, Vegas, baby.  It's a fun place to live. And we are so lucky.

Hmmmm... my favorite sex name.  I should get one.