More on The Monkees and the importance of sharing your talents

Did you see on Facebook that my last post about my experience at The Monkees show at Green Valley Ranch was picked up by the REAL Peter Tork (Official) Facebook page?  (At this point, you'll have to scroll down the page quite a bit to see my post.) What a thrill!  I know that Peter Tork has a social media team, but maybe (?) he took a look at my post himself (?)  At any rate, that was pretty cool.

As a result of that exposure, I heard from Wayne Sander, a guy from Minnesota who Micky Dolenz picked to join them on stage and lead the crowd in singing "Daydream Believer." Wayne's a huge fan of The Monkees; he told me his earliest memories are of wanting to grow up to be Peter Tork. His partner, Dan, scored some front row tickets on eBay for Wayne's birthday.

Here's how Wayne describes being pulled up on stage. Kind of like Courteney Cox in Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark" video, except it wasn't a set-up.

"Here's something interesting I found out the night of the show.  When Micky Dolenz is standing on stage and he points his finger directly at you and says 'I want YOU,' the word 'you' actually echoes in your head just like it does in the movies (you, you, you, you, you….).  Another thing that happened, is the moment I finished navigating the coils of power and sound cabling covering the stairs and set my first foot on the stage, the only thing I could actually hear was my own heartbeat and the sound of my own breathing.  There were no other sounds until I got to the center of the stage and Micky grabbed my hand.  I remember looking up and seeing the whole audience and it was like being in the tip of a funnel.  I could feel the emotions of everyone and they were all focused at the stage.  I thought my heart was going to explode, I've never felt anything like it.  Micky asked me if I was an Angry Birds fan and what level I had achieved.  I couldn't even remember ever playing the game.  The only word I was able to get out was 'uh.'"

Photo by Carolyn Regnell

Wayne continues:

"The next thing he did was put the microphone to his side and ask if I was ready to do this.  He held out his hand for me to hold on to and we started singing.  I don't sing.  At least not in public anyway.  And I've never been in front of a crowd larger than about 12 people.  I'm normally a shy quiet person, you know, the type that libraries like to hire to set the mood.  This was the scariest thing I have ever done in my life, 100x scarier than bungee jumping (which I have tried).  But there's no way that I could have said "no".  In fact, it never even crossed my mind.  My voice was already pretty shot from all the cheering and singing I had been doing during all of the previous songs, but I gave it everything I had left and just hoped for the best.  I kept looking out at all the people and I wanted to give the best I could.  It was a magical mystical experience and in all that love and support focused towards me from the audience, I could feel Davy Jones.  For a few moments there were four Monkees on stage (plus me, I'm not a Monkee).  The audience felt it, too.  It was incredible.  Thinking back on it still brings tears to my eyes.  I think it always will.

"When the song ended and I turned around, there was Mike Nesmith smiling at me.  I thanked him and he shook my hand.  The reality of what had just happened hit me like a ton of bricks.  I had just sung a song with Micky Dolenz while Peter Tork played keyboards and Mike Nesmith played guitar.  I had just lived a dream that I've had for over 40 years.  A dream that I never in my wildest imagination thought would ever come true.  A couple of stagehands appeared with flashlights to help me navigate the stairs and I got back to my seat.  I asked the people in the seats next to us if I did okay, and they said I did great.  I thought they were just being nice.  I missed most of the next song because my brain was still trying to process what had just happened.  I came back to reality as they were leaving the stage when the set ended, and everyone stood up to applaud.  I got to hear the encores at least.

"After the show, dozens of people came up to me or yelled my name from across the room.  I shook a lot of hands and everyone seemed happy with the job I did.  I was just relieved to find out I didn't let anyone down.

"I'm still trying to digest and fully understand the experience.  It was an incredible honor and I will treasure those moments for the rest of my life."

Pretty cool, huh?  Wayne told me he had never sung in public before, and had never even spoken to a crowd larger than about 12 people. While on stage, he took this picture of the audience.

 

Photo by Wayne Sander. Capturing a surreal moment on stage with The Monkees

 

Let's get back to Wayne's words, "I'm still trying to digest and fully understand the experience.  It was an incredible honor and I will treasure those moments for the rest of my life."  As I mentioned in my last post, my friend Lisa and I were literally screaming with joy during that concert.  So many people who've seen the shows on this tour left comments on Peter Tork's Facebook with similar sentiments.

 

Awesome, but can you imagine what an incredible honor it must be to be able to GIVE people an experience they'll treasure for the rest of their lives?  Wouldn't you just LOVE to be able to do that?

 

You can.

Maybe not on the scale of The Monkees or Bruce Springsteen, but you certainly have it in you to touch another person's life in a way they will remember for the rest of their lives.  

On the simplest level, all The Monkees did last Saturday night was share their talents.  Imagine if they hadn't?  Imagine if all musicians, artists, computer programmers, nurses, teachers... imagine if they never shared their talents?

 

I want to repost something I wrote almost 4 years ago, on my 52nd birthday:

"Over the past several months, I've been doing some editing for Rudy Ruettiger, the man behind the hit movie, Rudy. He lives here in Las Vegas. One of Rudy's favorite lines is, 'What would you do if you knew you could not fail?'

 

"Most people don't dig deeply enough within themselves to truly consider and come up with an answer to this question. But if you really think about it, you're sure to uncover a true desire. And under that, I'll bet you anything, lies a true God-given talent.

"Talent. I believe we've all been blessed with it. But for any number of reasons, this talent often gets suppressed. A while back, I heard from a reader who said she always wanted to write, but gave up that aspiration long ago when a teacher told her she was no good at it. And I'm telling you, the email she sent to me was beautifully written. Forgive that stupid teacher and shake the Etch-a-Sketch, sister. And start writing.

"Finally, finally, I've come to realize that my God-given talent is my writing (though Mom could have told you that years ago). I'm 52 and finally have a book for sale, an outlet for my writing, my humor, and a way to motivate others to make the most of their own lives by looking at mine. I've said a million times, 'Everything in its right time' and I do believe that--the universe unfolds in divine order. But we also have free will, so why not make "the right time" sooner rather than later?

"So my birthday wish is for you to take some time today to consider, What is your God-given talent? What do you do better than almost every person on earth? How can you share your talent with the rest of the world? These are not rhetorical questions. I'm really asking you; I expect answers (even if you answer in your own head). I want you to tell me what your talent is because by telling me, you're also proclaiming it to yourself.

"Think about what makes you wonderful and have yourself an incredible day, knowing that in your own unique way, you kick ass. That, beloved readers, is my birthday wish for you."  

Please, I can't stress enough:  Share your talents. Give a gift that people will treasure for life.  Hey, hey, they're The Monkees.  And they gave us all a tremendous gift this tour, which just ended this past weekend.  More, please!

Photo by Wayne Sander

Make it a point to have FUN!!!

Yesterday during our weekly meeting my comedy coach, Michael Parise, remarked, "You're always happy.  No matter what you have going on, you seem to be positive."

Okay, you know and I know that I'm picky, picky, picky and in a nearly perpetual state of annoyance (don't get me going about people who talk in the movie theater) (or even breathe too loudly), but yeah--overall, he's right. I've always been a happy person.  I don't know about when I was a little girl--I imagine I was happy--but I can definitely remember a kid coming up to me in Hackett Junior High School and giving me an exaggerated smile right in my face, mocking my own expression.  I can only conclude that I must have been walking around looking pretty happy without realizing it, which evidently displeased my schoolmate.

I think I get happier the older I get.  Maybe because I have more of an appreciation for everything and everybody I have in my life. Not in that order, of course.  I know one thing:  I'm so appreciative of my health.  I've said before that if you wake up in the morning, can walk to the bathroom and see yourself in the mirror, and then take a proper piss and shit... well, you have nothing to complain about.  (Since my Bell's Palsy experience in September, I should say, "see yourself blinking in the mirror.")

I agree with the Dali Lama's statement above. I'll even go further to say that the purpose of life is to HAVE FUN, and no matter what I do, I try to find the fun in it.  Like Mary Poppins said, "For every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You find the fun and snap! the job's a game."  Okay, that might not apply to everything--God knows I've done some time in cubicles where, trust me, there was no friggin' fun to be had.  But if we think HAPPY and think FUN, I believe we're more apt to experience it. 

So, let's do this.  Right now, make a list of five fun things that you love to do.  Be specific--don't just say "travel," say where you like to travel to and what you like to do when you're there.  If you come up with more than five things, that's awesome.

Take a look at the list you just created.  I bet that most of the things on your list cost little to no money.  When is the last time you've done any of them?

Now go through the contacts on your cell phone and make a list of all the people you have fun with. Who are your most positive friends, the ones who crack you up?  When did you last spend some time with them? I bet it's been too long.

So make a plan. Pick a fun activity to do with a fun person and make a definite plan.  Put it on your calendar in ink.  This will give you something to look forward to, and just the thought of it will make you happy.

Let's make a conscious choice to have more fun--it shouldn't be something that happens just once in a while, almost by mistake.  Plan for fun, expect fun.  Fun makes for a happy life. And that, not the Hokey Pokey, is what it's all about.

Hey, comment away!  I took the pain-in-the-ass word verification off--I know it really was annoying. I'll probably get spammed a lot, but this will make it a lot easier to comment.

When the student is ready, the teacher will appear

My first meeting yesterday with my comedy coach, Michael Wheels Parise, was awesome! He was very encouraging--and seemed genuinely impressed about where I am right now--and has some definite strategies to help me get to where I want to be.

I've known of "Wheels" for a while and had considered his coaching sessions months ago, but after I researched him a bit, I didn't think he'd be for me.  Wheels is tight with Andrew Dice Clay and opened for him for years... not exactly my style, right? Then I saw him speak at the World Series of Comedy a couple of weeks ago and thought, okay, he's been in the business for 26 years and can talk intelligently about it.  Then last week I heard him speak again at an informal workshop one of my comic friends put together. I talked to him afterward and figured I should give this guy a try.

Oh, man. That was a good decision.

Funny--last week when we were setting up a time for our meeting, he mentioned he'd be in LA last weekend and was going to Idaho this coming weekend.

"Where in Idaho?" I asked.  He said he'd be flying into Boise, but the club is in Meridian. "Holy shit!" I said. "I just booked a flight to Boise for Saturday.  My mother lives in Meridian!"

Meant to be, we concluded.  So of course, I'll be checking out his show Saturday night. In freakin' Idaho. Cool coincidence.

So then as we got back to the time/place specifics for our first meeting, he asked what section of town I live in.  Turns out we're in the same neighborhood!  Couldn't be more convenient.

We spent almost an hour and a half together yesterday at the Starbucks down the street.  He takes a holistic approach to his coaching, saying it's important for him to really get to know the person. Makes sense--a good comedian is authentic, and has a good sense of self.  You have to in order to build your on-stage character.

Whatever his stage persona, in real life Wheels is a sweet family man, with Facebook albums full of photos of him with his wife and 7-year-old daughter. He has an appreciation for the metaphysical and practices TM (transcendental meditation).  A perfect match for me.

You know the Buddhist proverb, "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear"?  That couldn't be more true.   My chiropractor is another teacher who recently came into my life, and I'm learning all kinds of stuff about the human body.

Some people are adverse to looking for help; they think it's a sign of weakness or that they can learn whatever they want from the Internet. That's just crazy. There's nothing like personal attention. If you want to develop your God-given talents, learn something new or simply get in better shape, I urge you to seek out a teacher.

Why wait? I'm gonna be 55 tomorrow, people. Time passes quickly.

You have no idea how many people love you!

Little did I know when I woke up Tuesday morning that, in addition to Hazel's second birthday, it was going to be "I Love Linda Day."

It started before my feet hit the bedroom floor. My iPhone was charging on my side of the bed and so first thing, I checked my email to find a private Facebook message from a name I didn't recognize.  It simply said, "I love your blog!" 

Great start to the day.  I wrote back saying thank you and I often wonder who the hell reads my crap. I've said a million times that the best thing about blogging is connecting with people; I've made some wonderful friends since I started this blog almost four years ago. 

My new friend and I exchanged back and forth a bit, and she said she was hesitant to "friend" me because she did that once with a blogger who got all in a snit and even called her out on her next post asking why she would do such a thing, since she didn't know her in real life and what could they possibly have in common?

Not me, man; I'll take all the friends I can get.

Anyway, it was nice to start the day feeling appreciated, and a few hours later things got even better when I received an email from beloved fellow blogger Very Josey saying she posted about me.  I checked out her site, and I am telling you,  I was floored to see this post.  I'm not kidding, tears were streaming down my face.  I NEVER could have seen that coming.

The reason I'm posting this is not to remind you how friggin' awesome I am (okay, well maybe just a little).  No, seriously--I wanted to share this with you because we all go through phases where we get down on ourselves.  Everybody goes through times where you question your self-worth and wonder if you've ever made a sound decision in your life.  You think you should have more by this age, whether it's more money in your 401K or more accomplishments under your belt or both.  You should be in better shape.  You should try harder at work, even though you hate being there. You should be more patient with others.  You should make more time for yourself.  You should at least freakin' acknowledge the comments on your blog that nice people have taken the time to write (I know).

You should, you should, you should, blah, blah, blah...

So yeah, it's so easy to convince yourself that you positively suck at everything.  But there are people out there--and I mean perfectly sane, well adjusted people--who think you are the tits. 

On Tuesday, I was reminded of that.  But did my new Facebook friend reach out to me because she suddenly decided she liked my blog?  Did Josey get a blast of inspiration from me out of nowhere and dash off that blog post right then and there?  Of course not.  It's just that, coincidentally, I heard from them within a couple of hours.  So I'm gonna say it again:

Whether you know it or not, there are people who think you're the tits.

Just because you don't know who they are, doesn't mean they're not there.

Instead of asking for a raise, ask to work at home

I forgot to tell you about the change in my job situation.  Maybe you were wondering how I could get all that time off last month to go to Albany and then play with Courtney while she was here.  No, I didn't quit my job, as you might have guessed.

To refresh your memory, I was hired last fall as a trainer for a position that would require about 75% traveling to resorts nationwide.  Sweeeeet.  BUT, because the company was in dire need of system documentation and I'm such a documentation diva, my job was switched and I'd be writing, writing, writing all day in a cubicle, 26 miles from my house.  Not happy.

The day they switched my job, I said no freakin' way and quit right there and then.  My boss's boss is a great guy, though, and I decided to stay and write one module of content.  When that was over, I'd be moving on.

After the initial module was finished, I'd had it with the long commute and sitting in a cube all day so I once again gave my notice.  But no, there was plenty more to write.  They asked if I could stay on and work flexible hours from home.  Um, YES! 

People say to me, "Oh, you're so lucky," and yes, there's a certain amount of luck involved.  But the fact is, when you're really good at something, you're much more likely to have things go your way.  Work is an exchange of energy--your talent for their money.  Companies need your talent; they can't survive without it.  And when you're a master at what you do, they'll do what they can to meet your needs.

My life is a hundred times better now.  I'm no longer spending a minimum of 70 minutes per day traveling in the car.  That's 350 minutes a week, which gives me almost 6 hours a week--24 hours a month--of "Linda time."  And because I no longer have to get up at 6:15 a.m. to start the lengthy beautification process to make myself presentable to the world, I don't have to go to bed so damn early.  I gain time there as well.

Let's talk cost.  A 52-mile round trip commute translates to about 250 miles a week and over 1000 miles a month.  Divide that by the 33 miles to the gallon I get with my Scion (still not as good as the 41 mpg with my beloved Saturn) and I'm saving over 30 gallons of gas--or about $120--per month.  Not to mention the wear and tear of my car.

Because I found the lunch room at work kind of depressing, I was eating out every day, which set me back an average of $9 a day, or $45 a week, or close to $200 per month.  So now, between gas and lunch, there's an extra $320 in my pocket.  And am I buying work clothes?  Nope.  More savings.

Working at home is like getting a $4000 yearly raise.  Not bad.

I wish employers would realize that offering the work at home option is a win-win.  Happy employees are much more valuable than the unhappy ones, and their productivity proves it.  There's still a lot of resistance, but maybe if enough of us start putting it out there, they'll come to meet the demands of the workers.  After all, they can't have a business without us.

You have to be good, though.  That's why it's so important to do the best you can, even if you don't really like what you do.  Your abilities might be able to pay off somehow.

Nobody does anything perfectly the first time

Tuesday night I had my fifth ballet class.  I can tell I’m getting better at it. My legs are much stronger—in my first class I had to literally pull myself up from a grand plie using the strength of my arm on the barre.  Now I can rise semi-gracefully.   I’m also feeling a little more coordinated, though believe me, most of my floor work is still spastic at best.  We're talking blackmail video.

Because I feel I’m doing better, I’m enjoying the class more.  That’s human nature—as we gain confidence, we move further into our comfort zone.  I wasn’t quite so happy and comfortable during the first class; no one feels happy and comfortable when they don’t know what they’re doing.

The thing is, you can’t expect to be great at something the very first time you try it.  That may seem like a no-duh, but I think people tend to forget that.  My first stand-up performance was actually pretty decent (considering), but it can’t compare to the sets I do now.  My first blog posts are not a great representation of what my blog is today—hell, in the beginning I was giving grammar lessons!  And the first pages of what would become Bastard Husband: A Love Story, which I read back in 2004 to the kind and patient members of the Henderson Writers Group, barely resemble what ended up in print.

It’s a safe bet that anyone who’s ever achieved anything pretty much sucked at it right out of the gate. Do you think any of the actors up for an Academy Award this Sunday night gave a command performance their first time on stage?   Okay, maybe Meryl Streep.

My point is, it would be a shame not to try something because you can’t be at peace with your imperfection.   You could be holding yourself back from experiencing something truly wonderful.  

I am so, so digging my ballet class and now I’m sampling other classes, too.  I could live at The Stage—I'm a dancing fool!  I loved the belly dancing and Dance Fusion (a combination of various styles) classes I took recently.  Next Monday night I’m starting Showgirl 101—ha!—and I’ll probably look freakin’ ridiculous, but who the hell cares?   It certainly won't be the first time.  

So how about you?  I asked you last month what you always wanted to do.  Are you doing it yet?  If not, what's holding you back? 

Following up on stuff I've talked about before

Thank you, thank you for all your input on what I should call my "getting from A to B" service.  In addition to your comments here, I've had a couple of interesting ones on Facebook.  One is "Personal Inspirational Mentoring Partner," or PIMP for short.  Hello, I'm Linda and I'll be your life PIMP.  The other is the R-rated  "growth guide."  Schwing!

I do appreciate all your suggestions.  My pal Vegas Flea gave me something else to think about:

"The existing term really is 'life coach' but its such an undesirable term that the best thing would be for you to simply start out and let your satisfied clients refer clients to you and not worry too much what your business card has on it."

I might just do that.  It's not like I'm looking to market this service or anything; word of mouth is all I had in mind.  And he hit the nail on the head about the term "life coach" being undesirable.  I'm trying to figure out why--I guess I think of life coaches as being all wholesome and righteous and politically correct.  God knows and you know that's not me.  I just want to help people get shit done.  Maybe that sums it up right there.

"Linda Lou... making shit happen since 2012"

"Linda Lou... laxative for your life!"  Okay, now I'm just going in a bad direction.  See what I mean? Real life coaches would never say shit.
 
Anyway, on Saturday night I got to meet Debbie from the fabulous blog From Venting to Viggo.  She is adorable and I could have talked her ear off for days.  I was prepared for a totally off the wall whack job to rival Julie of 47 and Starting Over (now Fifty and Fabulous) fame, but Debbie is the sweetest person on earth and I'm not just saying that because she said I'm WAY better looking in real life, which happens to be true.  Anyway, my dear Julie, your title remains intact.  I love you both.

The absolute best thing about blogging is meeting my readers and other bloggers.   I can guarantee that both of these nutcases amazing women are destined to be my life-long friends.  I feel so lucky.

iPhone photos suck indoors

What else...  Mike and I are still on track with our no carbs diet.  Seriously, the weight is melting away and we are NOT depriving ourselves; we're just looking at the nutritional menus of every restaurant we can and making the wisest choices.  It's almost like a game.

Do you have a Red Robin near you?  If you do, check out this awesome menu customizer before you head there.  It's amazing how well you can eat for very little carbs.  I had the blackened chicken with no bun and substituted broccoli for fries.  It was delicious!

Less than 400 calories and only 9 grams of carbs!

Oh, that's ice tea, not beer.   But the good news is, Guinness Draught is only 9.9 carbs--the best bang for the buck in the dark beer category.  Rest assured I'm not about to switch to Miller Lite. 

Don't get me wrong--I do cook at home, but it's eating out that can really pack on the pounds.  But if you take a look at the nutritional info beforehand, you'll at least know what you're getting.  Baja Fresh, Panda Express, and Red Robin are all excellent restaurants if you're watching carbs.  On the other hand, I'm sorry to say my days of Panera Bread are over.  And if you want to pack on weight like there's no tomorrow, head on over to your nearest Five Guys.

Yeah, Mike and I are really pleased with the progress we're making; I'm down 7 pounds and he's down 10.  It's so much easier if your partner is in it with you, that's for sure.  And speaking of "doing it" with your partner, sorry if this is TMI, but consider this:  there's 17 pounds that's no longer "between" us, if you know what I mean.  Think about it--that's more than three 5-lb. bags of sugar!  Believe me, that makes a difference.

Giggity.

Oh, and one more thing... I start my ballet class today!  I'm so excited!  I have no idea what to expect, but I'm hoping I like it.  Too bad there won't be a video--wouldn't you love to see that?  HA!

Even MORE great advice from me!

I've really been enjoying doing comedy lately.  Hello, it's about time--it's been almost eight years since I first took the stage at Boomers and after all, hobbies are meant to be enjoyed, no? 

Sunday night I did a set at the open mic at Big Al's Comedy Club in the Orleans, which was a blast.  My BFF Julie of 47 and Starting Over fame was there with her boyfriend, Michael, who's also a comic and who also performed, and another couple who are Julie's good friends and are now mine as well.  Julie taped my set--I'll have to see if I can post that.  I know--promises, promises. 

Big Al's is a great room and John Barnes, who runs the stage, does a fantastic job keeping the comics moving.   If you're ever visiting, or are just looking for something to do on a Sunday night, check out Big Al's.  The show starts promptly at 9:00 and it's free.  Of course, open mics are always a crap shoot since they're open to all levels of performers, but that just adds to the fun.

Then Tuesday night I did the Las Vegas Comedy Show in my buddy Joe Lowers' showroom at Alexis Park.  It was the first time I performed there since I had my show last year and I swear, I don't think I'll ever get used to the stage lighting in that room--so bright!  I can't see a goddamn thing and it it's like Helen Keller comedy, but the room is awesome.  A couple of my friends from the old Boomers days were hanging out backstage and we remarked about how long it's been since we all met.  Eight years--Jesus H.  As my grandmother used to say, where does the time go?

At one point as we were shooting the shit, I was overcome with a feeling so warm I almost feel like a sap telling you about it.  But it's true.  I love all my comic friends; they're "my people."  If you read Bastard Husband, you know how much they meant to me when I first came to Vegas and hardly knew anyone in town.  As I wrote in my book, they never made me feel like an old bat; they've always been very warm and kind to me, and that still holds true for the young kids I'm meeting now.  I recently got a Facebook friend request from a kid born in 1990!

So things have never been better in the comedy area.  I'm having fun with it, now that I'm no longer blotching up with stage fright. I don't think I'll ever lick it entirely, but as Dale Carnegie says, a certain amount of stage fright is useful.

"It is nature's way of preparing us to meet unusual challenges in our environment.  So, when you notice your pulse beating faster and your respiration speeding up, don't become alarmed.  Your body, ever alert to external stimuli, is getting ready to go into action. If these physiological preparations are held within limits, you will be capable of thinking faster, talking more fluently, and generally speaking with more intensity than under normal circumstances."

He goes on to say that many professional speakers never completely lose stage fright.

"It is always present just before they speak, and it may persist through the first few sentences of their talk. This is the price these men and women pay for being race horses and not like draft horses."

Who wants to be a draft horse, huh? 

I love the Dale Carnegie stuff.  You have to read through a lot of anecdotal material to get to his point sometimes, but the takeaways are worth it.  Like when he encourages you to talk as confidently as if every person in the audience owes you money and they have assembled there to beg you for an extension of credit.  Cool stuff.

I share my experiences doing comedy in case one of you, my beloved readers, is allowing fear to prevent you from doing something you really, really want to do. Whether you're afraid to go out on the town by yourself, talk to a stranger in line at the grocery store, give a presentation at work, post an profile on an online dating site, or pursue a hobby as crazy as stand-up comedy... I have two simple words of advice:  "Fuck fear."

Just like Dale Carnegie's books, this blog is full of tons of anecdotal crap. So I'll save you the trouble of sifting through the more than 600 posts in the past three years and I'll tell you the three most important takeaways.  If you learn nothing else from my so-called life, let it be this:

1. Stand up straight.
2. Smile.
3. Fuck fear.

Got it?

Why wouldn't you put as much effort into finding love as you would to find a job?

I have no idea how Chaz Bono did or how funny Charlie Sheen’s roast was last night—as of this writing, I haven’t even looked to see if my Facebook friends have weighed in. I was hanging out at the Alexis Park showroom, taking in the opening night of the World Series of Comedy, which is going on all week. My buddy Joe Lowers is the mastermind behind this event, so I’ll be helping him out as well as attending some comedy seminars. There’s no end to my busy-ness, and I know I have to start saying no to some things, but I definitely want in on this. As Warren Zevon said, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

Anyway, today I wanted to talk about love. Yes, love, people! Like me, one of my best girlfriends is crazy in love, and no matter how our conversation starts, inevitably we end up gushing about how great it is to be in a relationship and how—despite what 70s-era feminism would have us believe—life is so, so much better when you’re sharing it with someone who is nothing short of amazing.

I’ve said recently that if you wake up in the morning, can see your image in the mirror and can take a proper piss and shit, then already it’s a good day and you have nothing to complain about. There are a couple of other essential blocks of life that my BFF and I feel should be in place as well. One is having a source of income that’s adequate for an enjoyable lifestyle. The other is having a loving partner.

They’re both important, but at the end of life, I can tell you I’m not going to look back and think, “Oh man, I created some beautiful technical documentation.” An income feeds your stomach; a loving partner feeds your soul. Yet we’re conditioned to believe that a loving partner is a “nice to have” rather than a component as equally essential.

If you didn’t have a source of income, you’d work like hell to find a way to get some money coming in, right? You’d be scrutinizing Indeed.com, contacting everyone in your network to uncover leads, and sending out resumes with the hope that you’ll find the perfect match for your skills and marketable talents.

But we’re not as proactive when it comes to finding the perfect match for our love lives; we kind of just wait for someone to come our way. Can you imagine if you took that approach to your job search? “I’ll just wait around. Surely the perfect job opportunity will present itself to me by sheer chance.” You’d freakin’ starve! And so a lot of people are starving in the intimacy department because they’re simply not making the effort to find someone. That’s sad.

If you want to find a partner, you have to put yourself out there. Browse through Meetup.com and look for a group of like-minded folks. Post a sincere profile on an online dating site—make it funny and I guarantee you’ll get attention. (I could start a cottage industry offering that as a service.) Get the hell out of the house, and don’t be afraid to do something you enjoy by yourself. Go to the movies or a comedy club. Check out the events at your local library. Go out and support live music or a poetry reading at your neighborhood coffee shop. Just get yourself in circulation.

As you know, I’m conducting a job search now. Every single day I do something to achieve my goal of finding a rewarding position. Similarly, if you’re looking for love, you, too, should take action every single day.

If finding a love interest is important to you, then put some energy behind that goal. Make it a priority. Why wouldn’t you?

Get out and stay out! (You might meet Kato Kaelin or Norm MacDonald)

Wow, last Friday night was really something.
 
First I attended a book release party for Andrew Kiraly's debut novel, Crit, at a bar in downtown Las Vegas.  As much as I love Vegas, I still can't warm up to downtown; there are simply not enough hallucinogens for me to find the lights of the Fremont Street Experience remotely entertaining.  Okay, I was dancing on the bar at Hogs and Heifers a couple of Sundays ago in the middle of the afternoon, but for the most part downtown doesn't do it for me.   

Anyway, we've had quite a monsoon season here lately and it started to downpour on my way and I was like, I should just go home and watch a movie.  Then I couldn't find the bar and I hate driving around downtown and I was starting to get in a piss-poor mood and then I found the bar but there was no place to park, and when I finally found a parking spot on the far end of the lot, I had to wait to see what was up with these two Mexican guys who seemed to be just hanging out, perhaps waiting to prey on a middle-aged granny in a short shirt and heels that would hardly allow her to run like hell even if Satan himself were trying to grab her purse and the $18 inside of it.

OK, so I get into the bar in one piece and I don't know a soul except the woman who invited me to the event--the president of Stephens Press, which is the book's publisher.  She's tied up selling books, though, so I walked around and usually I'm really good by myself in bars, but everyone seemed to know each other and I was starting to bum like I was in a new high school and wasn't worthy of talking to the cool kids.

Finally my friend Teresa Watts from the Henderson Writers Group showed up and she didn't know anybody, either, and even though we both had on really cute outfits, we sat over to the side like Square Pegs and Teresa told me how she lost all this weight by eating fish, fruit and vegetables and now she weighs 112 and I was like ready to freakin' cry because that morning I weighed exactly what I weighed the day I gave birth (139).  Both times.  But nonetheless, I was glad she and her skinny ass were there for me to talk to.

After a while we decided to leave.  I had been planning on stopping in at the Fryer's Club, the weekly gathering for local comics over at Big Al's Comedy Club in the Orleans, but that didn't start until 11:30 and it was only about 9:00 so I decided to head over to catch the comics at Tommy Rockers.  Of course, on the way I missed my freakin' exit because some asshole wouldn't let me over and I was like, I should just go home.  I didn't, though, and finally got there in time to catch the last two comics. 

At that point it was only 10:00 and I still had another hour and a half till the Fryer's.  I decided to head over to the Orleans and figured I'd catch some of the band in the Irish pub next to Big Al's.  It was an all-girl band with a guy playing with them and not to be sexist, but sometimes women should just shut up because I swear to God, they talked forever  between every single song and I was like, just get on with the freakin' music.  After a while I couldn't take it anymore and thought, I should just go home, but instead I played nickle video poker and then got pissed when I lost three dollars.  (You don't really hear me talking about gambling much, do you?)

Anyway, I decided to head over to the food court and even though by now it was 11:00 at night and I was sure to weigh 140.5 or so by then (28.5 pounds heavier than that skinny bitch friend of mine), I ordered three meatballs and sauce at Sbarro's, which, by the way, is my favorite cheapo place to eat, second only to the $1.50 hot dog special at Costco.

FINALLY it was time to head over to Big Al's and hang with my comic friends.  As you can imagine, I'm on the older end of the spectrum, but from day one, the young guys have always been so sweet to me and I love being part of that scene.  My buddy Joe Lowers was there and a bunch of other people and it was just so much fun.  While sitting at the bar, I saw Kato Kaelin, who's hosting a show at Big Al's, standing not too far from me.  Let me tell you something, he looks pretty damn good!  I didn't talk to him much, but he was really sweet.

Photo credit:  MHA Photography

I look weird in that picture.  WTF?  (Why the face?)


Then, who else was there but Norm MacDonald, who was performing in the showroom last weekend.  I got to talk with Norm quite a bit.  He asked me where I'm from, what I do, where I live... and when he told me he's from Canada, I gushed, "I LOVE Canadians!"  And then I went on about how so many of my favorite musicians are Canadian and I when I found out he's from Quebec City, I was like, "OMG, my all-time favorite musician is from Quebec!" and he was like, "Who's that?  Daniel Lanois?" and I was like, "YES!" and he was like, "Wow, not too many people know who he is" and then we talked about Daniel Lanois and other Canadian musicians and he asked for my card and said he'd comp me for his Saturday show. 

Is that cool or what?

Photo credit:  MHA Photography

What is the weirdness that is my face?  Huh?  Like seriously, in real life I do not have that Quagmire jaw.  Norm looks great--I kept telling him I couldn't believe how young he looks and I really meant it.  He has a real baby face.

So anyway, I ended up having a fantastic night and my point is, how many times did I almost go home?  You see?  The moral of this story is, you have to get out.  Nothing exciting is ever going to happen at home.  Yes, a cute UPS guy in shorts might show up at your door during the day (no wonder why QVC is so popular), but no one's gonna come knockin' at night. 

So get out, and stay out!

Reader mail and more great advice from me

God knows I have an endless gush—think Old Faithful—of compelling information to share, but I’m always happy to weigh in on topics you’d like to address. An anonymous reader recently asked me to give my two cents on an experience she encountered in the dating world. To give you an age perspective, both she and the guy are in their late 40s. She found him extremely attractive and they enjoyed talking with each other, often about quite deep subjects. I’ll let her tell the rest.

When I kissed him after our first date I was instantly worried. He had that stick-your-tongue-in-the-other-person's-mouth-and-just-leave-it-there kissing style. I had a feeling that the sex would be bad, but tried to convince myself otherwise. Anyway, after some more dates I decided it was time. Well, guess what? I was sooo right! The sex was bad. I think “horrible” would be a better word. This is a man who has been married two times and has been in other relationships. So, I was wondering if you could blog about how a guy could be so clueless about what makes good sex.

Wow, how can a guy be so clueless about good sex?

A couple of thoughts immediately come to mind. The first is that what constitutes “good” sex is entirely subjective. An M.O. that causes one person to spasm with joy could totally turn off another. That’s where the term sexual compatibility comes in; you both have to be on the same page when it comes to what makes a delightful romp in the sack.

I’m totally with you in thinking the first kiss was a major warning signal. I have to wonder who on God’s green earth would think that jamming one’s tongue down someone’s throat could be considered remotely amorous. I think it’s a good rule of thumb that if the kissing sucks, you can pretty much give up hope for any satisfaction between the sheets.

That said, if you really like this guy, you may not want to jump ship. Tell him in a loving way what works for you and ask how you can meet his needs as well. Men are not mind readers and are generally appreciative when we take part in steering the course.

There’s nothing more discomforting than bad sex, that’s for sure. But there’s always the possibility that the second round may be entirely different. Personally, I’ve had not one, but two initial encounters that nearly made me weep. In both cases, the next time proved to be an entirely different story and ultimately they were very satisfying relationships. Another good rule is to always allow for first-time jitters.

Considering the quality of the first kiss though, I’m gonna give your guy slightly lower odds for next time. But again, open communication may result in an entirely different experience. Maybe his previous lovers were unskilled or indifferent and that’s all he knows. If other important aspects of a relationship are in place—the ability to converse if key!—then why not be a little patient and see how this unfolds?

Okay, readers. What do you say?

How to survive your day job until you can quit your day job

Some of you may know that I worked for several years in the field of corporate outplacement where I taught job search skills to people who’d been “downsized” or “identified as redundant” or whatever the euphemism of the day is. This started as an email to a friend who’s less than happy about her job situation and then as I was writing I thought, hey, this would make a good post. If you’re one of the lucky ones who loves your job, hallelujah! to you. But if you know anyone who’s struggling, pass this on. Hope it helps!


I’ve always envied those folks who knew from day one exactly what they wanted to be when they grew up. Usually their intended profession was something like a teacher or a fireman or a nurse, and that’s exactly what they studied in college and that’s exactly what they became when they grew up and they loved their job and they lived happily ever after, amen. I don’t actually know anyone like that, but I hear they’re out there.

For most of us, works means spending a big chunk of our lives in a place we’d rather not be. Maybe you’re “really” an artist or musician and need a day job to pay the bills until you can start making a living from your art. Maybe you’re in the profession you actually went to college for, but it’s not what you expected and you’re barking up the wrong tree. Or maybe you’ve been in a career for several years and have come to the realization that the bloom is off the rose and it’s time to move on.

Or maybe you still don’t know what you want to be when you grow up. Don’t feel bad; you’re not alone. The comedian Paula Poundstone has a great line--she says the reason we’re always asking kids what they want to be when they grow up is that we’re looking for ideas.

If that’s the case and you still have no friggin’ clue, it’s time to become more aware of what your God-given talents are. What do people compliment you on? What do you like to do? What do you do better than 99 percent of everyone else? How can you share that talent with the rest of the world? How can you make money by sharing that talent?

Ultimately, it would be wonderful to be able to making a living by sharing your God-given talents, instead of your apparent talent for tolerating menial work or a difficult supervisor. But the reality is, you’re not a Hilton sister or married to a millionaire and so you need to work so you can have some kind of quality of life beyond 9 – 5.

I can’t stress this point enough: Your mission is to get through those 8 hours in the most painless way possible while you continue to identify and develop your God-given talents and strategize exactly how you’ll be able to capitalize on them.

To do that, it’s important that your job doesn’t sap every bit of your time and energy so that you’re too tired at the end of the day to pursue your real-life goals. If you’re completely wasted after work without an iota of energy, it’s time to put out the feelers for another opportunity. On the other hand, if you spend every night channel surfing on the couch or wasting time on the Internet, you gotta put an end to that right now. If you don’t, you’re not serious about making a move. End of story.

I have been lucky as hell with my work situation this past year. Now, do I think God put me on this earth to edit technical documentation? Hardly. But with this job I can work from home, I have a competent and fair boss and hilarious coworkers whom I truly adore, and it doesn’t wipe me out. I still have plenty of energy for creative pursuits like my writing and stand-up. Would I rather be making good money from speaking engagements and book royalties? Of course. But this will do for now.

Okay, what if you really don’t like your job? How do you get through those 8 hours as painlessly as possible?

First, remember that no experience is ever wasted; everything fits together in the big picture of life. Identify tasks you do in your current position that somehow make use of your talents and the skills that are somehow related to your ultimate goal. In my case, my skill as a technical writer/editor helps make my creative writing tighter and crisper. In comedy, you have to get to the punch line in as few words as possible—in tech writing, you have to express the content as economically as possible, too. See the connection?

Second, look for conditions of your job that you consider to be favorable. Maybe you have a short commute, a pleasant work environment, the ability to work autonomously, a fair and competent boss, awesome coworkers, the opportunity to play with the latest technology… the value you assign to your job all depends on what’s important to you. Focus on the positive and appreciate the good. It could be a lot worse—ever get a pedicure?

Finally, be thankful for what you have. Never say you hate your job. The fact is, you can’t live without it or you would; you need the money and most likely would be effed without the paycheck, right? So don’t complain about where you are right now; that’s not a smart way to spend your energy. Spend your energy lining things up so you can make a move.

You’ll find your job will be more tolerable when you identify what it actually means to you. You’ll no longer feel like you’re compromising your values; you’ll find that you resist it less. You’ll realize that you stay in it not out of a sense of resignation, but as strategy; it’s a stepping stone to your next level of personal or professional development.

Does that make sense?

Get out! It could change your life.

Okay, first--I totally suck.  I haven't started my 30-day Buns of Steel challenge yet.  Yes, I'm busy, but that's no excuse.  I suck.  But I will do it.

Did you happen to see Ellen yesterday?  Matt Damon was on, talking about the time he was filming in Miami and some guys were going out on the town.  He didn't really feel up to it, but went anyway.  It's a good thing he did--one of the bartenders became his wife, and they now have a happy life together with four kids.  He felt fate played a role in their meeting.  The moral of the story, he said, was, "Go out to the bar!"

If you read Bastard Husband, you know we met when I was travelling for business and I decided to check out the hotel lounge instead of ordering room service. Had I cocooned it that night, my entire life would look differently today.  Maybe better, maybe worse--who knows.  But it definitely would not look like it does now.  Without B.H. there'd be no book, that's for sure.  Would I have eventually become a writer?  Maybe; I'd dabbled a bit and have been a technical writer for two decades now.  Would I have gotten into performing stand-up?  Doubtful.  Would I have ended up in Las Vegas?  I can't imagine how.

I met my first husband, Chris, in a bar in Albany--the Last Chance Saloon of all places.  He was a friend of a friend, and actually, I'd met him briefly before at a party.  Chances are had I not gone out with my girlfriends that night I would have connected with him eventually.  I met Mike at a meeting of the Henderson Writers' Group.  At the time I was the vice president and attended nearly every meeting.  Had Mike not showed up at that one, he probably would have made it to another meeting and I'd have met him sooner or later.  But had I not ventured down to the lounge in the Buffalo Marriott that night almost 11 years ago, I probably never would have crossed paths with B.H.  It's freaky to think that a seemingly inconsequential decision would, in fact, have such a profound impact on the course of my life. 

How about you?  How is your life entirely different because you decided against staying in?  Are you glad you did?

Guidelines for planning a fabulous 2011 (Part 1)

As I said on Tuesday, I’m psyched out of my mind about the year ahead. Oh, the possibilities! I’m convinced that the best way to make those possibilities a reality is to create a written plan of action. The process of writing forces you to articulate how you’d like to see the next year unfold. The clearer you are about what you want, the easier it is to make it happen. Writing things down increases the chances of actually manifesting them.

Planning the year ahead is going to take some time (a couple of hours) and a lot of thought, but don’t resist. If this were a project someone gave you at work, you’d do it, right? Well, this is one project you should actually care about!

Here is a goal-setting structure that I’ve used for several years. Like everyone else, over time I tend to drift away from my plan, but it’s better than nothing. On New Year’s Day, I’ll post the second half. In the meantime, start putting some thought into what you’d like to achieve in each of the following areas.

Health and fitness. Forget about what you’d like to weigh—that’s not the focus here. Think more about your overall health. Your body is the vehicle that gets you around on this earth—do you really want it to go to shit?

Write down some concrete steps you can take to improve your health, and I mean stuff you’ll actually do. If you’re like me and can’t bear the thought of going to a gym, for God’s sake, don’t put that down. Be realistic, and be specific. If you like to walk, can you commit to walking a half hour three times a week? Good. Make that part of your fitness plan.

In your calendar, pencil in reminders in the appropriate months for your physical and blood work, Pap, mammogram, eye, and dental appointments. Make and keep those appointments. What could be more important than your health?

My recommendations:

Find a fitness buddy—you’ll be much more likely to walk, run, work out, or whatever you want to do.

Buy yourself a pedometer, and I mean a good one, not a piece of crap. The more you spend on it, the more likely you’ll be to use it. I got this one from Brookstone for Mike for last Christmas; he loved it until he forgot it in the wash. (Guess what I bought again this year?)

If you’re looking for an exercise video that kicks ass, get the Original Buns of Steel DVD. Don’t buy this through Amazon; it’s a lot cheaper if you go through instructor Greg Smithey’s website. Tell him Linda Lou sent you, but don’t say I give him the finger during the hard parts.

Work and professional. How do you feel about your professional life? Does your work bring you joy? If not, do you at least have entertaining co-workers to help you get through the day? If work is a source of stress or you can’t frame your current job in a positive way, it’s time to move on. Work takes up a big chunk of your life, and life is too short to be miserable.

If you haven't already, now is a good time to identify your God-given talents. What do you excel at? What do you do better than 90 percent of everyone walking on earth? Does your work allow you to let those talents shine?

Maybe work is going fine. What can you do to make it better? What would you need to do to get a promotion?

Make a list of the concrete steps you can take to advance yourself professionally. Identify the skills that would make you more marketable and commit to obtaining those skills. Take a continuing education class through your local community college. Look into the online courses offered through www.lynda.com. Update your resume. Join a professional association and network with people who are doing what you’d like to do. Do whatever you need to ensure your source of income brings you joy!

Activities and personal growth. Okay, maybe your dream job isn’t making the best use of your God-given talents, but the pay is decent and it doesn’t drain every last bit of your energy. That’s cool. But you still want to make the most of your time off the clock, right? And maybe find a way to share those talents with the world?

You wouldn’t believe how many people tell me they should write a book. Or do stand-up comedy. I usually respond with a matter-of-fact, “So do it,” which is invariably met with the deer in the headlights look. Yeah, yeah, yeah—it’s a lot easier to be a blowhard saying, “I could do this” and “I could do that” than actually taking the steps to make it happen.

But why not take the freakin’ steps and do it? Don’t know where to start? Do some research! Could the Internet make it any easier to learn about anything? You have to start somewhere, and when you walk in the mist, you get wet. Start walking in the mist!

Personal and creative projects always go on the back burner. That’s because nothing will go wrong if they’re not done and there’s generally no sense of accountability. No one’s asking, “Hey, are you done with that painting yet? When can we hear that song you’ve been working on? What have you been doing lately to overcome that fear of public speaking?”

It’s up to you. Make a list of personal goals you’d like to achieve and list the concrete steps you can take to help you achieve them.

Travel. Make a list of the day trips, long weekends, and vacations you’d like to take in 2011. Again, be realistic; if a trip around the world isn’t feasible right now, don’t put it down. Pencil these trips in on your calendar. Consider the gift of travel for a special birthday or other occasion. Taking a trip with a loved one creates memories that last far longer than any present or gift card.

You should have plenty to think about for now. On Saturday, I’ll give you the other eight areas to plan for in 2011. Isn't this fun???

It's time to rejoice, so rejoice already!

I'm leaving for Albany this afternoon on the 4:35 flight.  I can't wait to see my family. It's been over 7 weeks since I left there; I imagine I'll see a big change in baby Hazel.   

Last week my adorable blogger friend and new author, Mandy, of Mandy's Life After 30, started a new blog post with this:

So many wonderful things are happening lately. I'm a bit afraid to talk about them here, scared that I may somehow jinx them from coming true.

I'm feeling the exact same way these days.  My kids are doing well--their band, The Blackwell Sinners, just did a live set on WRPI last Saturday and had a gig on Sunday.

I'm feeling my own creativity coming back, too; I've even started to work on my next book (thanks to a few of you who gave me the nudge I needed) and I've done three sets of comedy in the past couple of weeks.  My job situation is awesome; I love working from home (and how lucky I am that "home" is Las Vegas) and my boss and co-workers are a freakin' blast.  I can't wait to see them tomorrow when I'm back to raising hell in the cube farm.  And on top of all that, I am so jump-on-Oprah's couch in love, it's almost too much to bear. 

But isn't it nutty that we're almost afraid to acknowledge our happiness when things are going our way, for fear that we'll jinx ourselves, as Mandy said?  That's insane.  Life has its ups and downs; there's a natural ebb and flow to the universe.  How crazy are we to refrain from basking in the joy of the good times because we're afraid our celebration will trigger the onset of a pile of shit dropping into our lives?

Last week I had a mammogram.  I swear, I was going mental thinking wouldn't it just figure that right now when life is so awesome that it would come back with a problem?  Yep, breast cancer (which can suck you know what) is on both sides of my family and every time I turn around another friend or acquaintance is putting up the cancer fight so wouldn't it just figure the C word would tap me on the shoulder right when I'm at the top of the ferris wheel? And during a time when I'm actually kind of at peace with my hair?

Thank God the mammo came back fine, but seriously, I was driving myself insane. 

Let's not do this to ourselves, huh?  Let's just rejoice when times are good.  So go rejoice!

The path of least resistance

Two weeks from today I head back to Albany for the holidays. Of course, I can't wait to see my kids and precious grandchildren (is there any other kind?), but man, I hate to even think about leaving the pleasant Vegas weather we've been having.  It's been way up in the 60s lately--I'll take it!

Hey (this is boring), I've lost about 5 lbs. in the four weeks since I've been back in Las Vegas.  God knows I don't have the willpower to diet or give up dark beer, but right now my life is structured in a way that's conducive to losing weight.  Mike and I both work at home, and every day at "lunch" (which is 9 a.m. since I follow East Coast time), we take at least a three-mile walk.  Would I walk by myself if he weren't around?  Hell, no.  But because we both structure our day to allow for that walk, we do it together and it's actually fun.

It also helps is that I'm not eating out as much. Over the summer at my job in Albany and when I worked in my old job here, more often than not I'd have lunch with co-workers in a restaurant or pizza place.  Big portions, lots of calories, right?  Now I'll have some cereal in the morning (how I love Trader Joe's Organic Morning Light!), a little snack around noon, and usually I make an early dinner around 4:00.  I think that's better than eating a heavy meal later at night.  
Okay, that was boring shit, but here's the part you should pay attention to:  your ability to achieve your goals depends a great deal on how your life is structured.  I really believe that.  Energy follows the path of least resistance, right?  So when you set up your schedule or structure conditions in your life in a way that facilitates the attainment of your goals, you're just about guaranteed to realize them.

As I write this, I'm wondering how the hell I'm going to prevent gaining every friggin' ounce back during the two-and-a-half weeks I'm in Albany.  My structure is going to be way different--it'll be too cold to walk and I'll be back having lunch with my work buds in the office-- and all the holiday social gatherings are going to be full of temptation.  I gotta figure this out.  I might just have to start again after the new year.

Yep, a new year is approaching, and I have a million things I want to achieve.  You, too?  Structure is going to be really important.

My love/hate relationship with performing stand-up comedy

I’ve mentioned my love/hate relationship with performing stand-up comedy many times. I love it when all the conditions line up perfectly: when the room has no bleed-in noise from the bar, the sound system is good, the host is professional, when I’m not the tenth comic up performing to an exhausted crowd, when my nerves are in check and I’m not consumed with stage fright, when I don’t feel fat and have a acceptable hair day, when the moon is in the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars… you get it.

Of course, rarely do those conditions unfold just so, which is why I’ve said a million times that I really don’t enjoy doing stand-up. So why do I do it? Why put myself through that?

One reason is because I usually do pretty well. Every comic has off nights, and I’ve certainly done more than one set that seemed like the longest 5-15 minutes of my life. But overall, I do okay. If nothing else, I always feel my material is solid; I'm a good writer.

My set Thursday night at the all female G-Spot comedy show went well, which is a miracle because I was in a miserable mood. Before the show, I was backstage with the three other comics. One, my beautiful friend, Dareece, is relatively new to the scene; she’s been performing less than a year. The other two gals, Lynn and Shelley, have been around for a while. They’re both from New York and have a super confident, brash, and in-your-face style reminiscent of Joan Rivers. Shelley laughed about how she performs her material to anyone who’ll listen, including fellow riders on the bus. Lynn beamed as she told us how much fun she has performing and that she can never wait to get up on stage.

My blotchy neck and I sat over to the side, and as I nervously went over my set list for the umpteenth time, I felt like a person who hasn’t surfaced in ages: I felt like little Linda Haber, the 10-year-old shy and quiet bookworm of my childhood, studying her notes before an exam.

As anyone in Albany can tell you, little Linda Haber was not particularly funny. And there I was, about to present myself on stage in front of a room of people for no other purpose than to make them laugh. Out loud.

Why aren’t I more like Lynn and Shelley? I thought. When am I ever going to actually enjoy doing this? What’s the matter with me?

It was weird feeling like that, and I really wanted to run off and forget about doing comedy forever. But I couldn’t; I had to go on and act as if I were enjoying myself. And so I did.

My set went smoothly and my new material was well received. And as I watched Lynne’s and Shelly’s performances, I realized that yes, I have an entirely different style than theirs. I’m more subdued, but there’s nothing wrong with that. There's no one "right" style to do comedy; look at the differences between Lewis Black and Stephen Wright.  Or Joan Rivers and Rita Rudner.

Furthermore, it would be wrong of me to try to mimic Lynn’s and Shelley’s style; that’s not the authentic me.  And while “acting as if” is a great technique to psyche yourself up, you have to balance it with authenticity. The further you are from being the most authentic version of yourself, the harder life becomes—no matter what you’re trying to do.

I learn something every time I get on stage. That’s why I have to keep performing, and in time, maybe I’ll even start to enjoy it.

St. Anthony, you rock!

Sunday I took my grandson, Connor, to see Secretariat. The movie was okay, nothing great, and it had the kind of sappy music score I can’t stand. But it’s a Disney flick, so what was I expecting, right?

Connor’s been squeamish about going to the movies with me ever since that little episode when I almost bit the heads off a young Asian couple for talking during The Karate Kid, and when the little 5-year-old girl behind us started getting antsy, he gave me a look that said it all. I assured him that I’m not gonna yell at a little kid sitting in a Disney film. Plus I was getting antsy, too.

After the movie we went to my sister Lori’s house for dinner, which she could barely get on the dining room table because she was on Day Two of being (justifiably) wigged out over losing her wallet Friday night. Once again I asked her the usual annoying questions like, “Where did you have it last?” (duh) and “When did you notice it was missing?” But this time I added, “Did you pray to St. Anthony?”

Seeing that we’re not Catholic, she hadn’t considered that last question, but seeing that in high school I had a boyfriend with a full-blooded Italian mother, I’ve been praying to St. Anthony to help me find stuff for years.

So in the midst of a house full of my relatives yakking away, I sat in the kitchen and said, “St. Anthony, please lead me to Lori’s wallet.” Then I quieted my mind after a few moments, I got up and walked out to my car, which she’d been in Friday night. I’d checked the car before, but this time I was guided by St. Anthony.

Nothing.

Hmmm.

I went to lock the car, then caught myself. I had to look on the back floor.

Nope.

Then for some reason, I looked in a nearly empty box on the back seat that had a few Bastard Husband books in it. There it was! Within minutes of praying to St. Anthony, I had her wallet in my hand.

Later that night on the way home, I told Connor that after you pray to St. Anthony, you have to be sure to quiet your mind. Otherwise, you won't receive his direction and know where to look; you can't hear anything if you're chattering away yourself, right?

I learned in my yoga training that when you pray, you talk to God, and when you meditate, God talks to you. Or, if you're not a big God person, think of it as letting your own intuition talk to your conscious mind. So if you need direction on something, you can't keep pray, pray, praying. You have to clear your mind of any thoughts so the answer can come to you.

Connor always listens to me very politely, and since usually I'm spouting this stuff off when he's trapped in the car with me, what's the poor kid gonna do? I like to think maybe some will stick when he gets older and he'll remember some of this wise bullshit from his granny.

The truth is, I have to talk with him about nice things like prayer and meditation.  Connor's my Facebook friend--I have to balance out posts like this one.

Plus, I have to make up for harassing noisy movie-goers, right?  Can't give him the wrong impression about his granny.

I know, I know… more about my friggin’ show

Do I sound like Dr. Suess or what?

Okay, I know my blog has been all about my friggin’ D Words show lately, but I’m on this never ending quest to inspire you to share your own talents with the world, and so I must share my lessons learned.

At this point, I have 13 performances under my belt, and it wasn’t until number 8 that I feel the show found its groove. Remember how I was ready to quit after my 2/25 show and then the next day I made some changes and knocked it out of the park? So on 2/26, I launched what I consider to be The D Words verson 2.0. Not that 1.0 absolutely sucked; I got lots of positive feedback an encouraging review in www.Living-Las–Vegas.com. In fact, one couple came to see the show twice within those first weeks (!), but I knew it just wasn’t there yet.

God willing, there will be a v3.0 and 4.0 and who knows how many incarnations down the line as I consider how I can make the show better and better. That’s all part of the creative process. When I look at the early days of this blog, it’s obvious that it took me a while to figure out what it was going to be. (Do any of you remember the grammar lessons I used to post?!) And believe me, the early drafts of Bastard Husband look nothing like what ended up in book form!


Oh, how I love my Ricky Gervais!

My sister Lori says that when a creation is fresh out of the birth canal, you’re gonna have to wipe some shit off. My point—and my advice to you—is don’t put off starting a project because you’re afraid it won’t be perfect. It will gradually evolve into what you want it to be, as long as you continue to work on it.

I saw this post on Facebook today from my comic friend John Hilder. He’s from Utah (and therefore has a wealth of material—ha!) and is a fine comic and truly nice guy. He'll be at The Riviera Comedy club next week--check him out if you have a chance.

John Hilder is not sure what would be more painful: Getting stabbed repeatedly for 30 straight minutes or bombing on stage for 30 straight minutes. I just did the second one so if anyone would like to come stab me for a half an hour or so for comparison's sake let me know.

Yep. That’s just gonna happen.

7 things you should NEVER say to single people, especially around Valentine’s Day

Ever since back in 1968 when I witnessed my mother hurling a box of Whitman chocolates across the dining table, I’ve known Valentine’s Day was a crock. And from the looks of this post from last week, you all know it, too.

V-Day is especially tough for single people. Yes, this year I’m in a relationship (and I was last year, too) and God willing, Mike is the last one for me. Sure, sometimes I swear he rides the short bus to his Mensa meetings and more than once I’ve seriously wanted to kill him, but he is really cute and I’m crazy about him, so blah, blah, blah, you know?

That said, since my first husband and I split up in 1994, I’ve been in a relationship for a total of six Valentine’s Days—this will be my second with Mike, I had three with Bastard Husband, and one with my old boyfriend Tim. That means I’ve experienced eleven as a single gal.

As many of you know, people say the stupidest goddamn things to single people. Here’s a list of my favorites, and by “favorites” I mean do not ever let these words roll off your tongue or I will march right over to your house and kick your ass.

1. “I wish you could find someone nice.” OMG, that’s f*cking brilliant! Hold on, let me write that down.

2. “You know what they say--you gotta kiss a lot of frogs.” Why don’t you just say, “Holy shit, you sure know how to pick a bunch of losers” because that’s essentially what you’re getting at.

3. “I hate to see you by yourself.” No, you hate the thought of YOU being by yourself. Don’t project your insecurities onto someone who happens to be going solo.

4. “You’d think a good-looking woman like you would have no problem finding someone.” Hmm… maybe I should look behind the couch.

5. “You’re too picky.” Oh, right—I haven’t met my frog quota yet.

6. “You’re trying too hard to meet someone. When it’s right it will just happen.” Okay, go get me something to hit you with.

And by far, the most annoying:

7. “Maybe you’re just meant to have some time alone.” Single people spend WAY too much time alone—the last thing they need to hear is this bullshit.

What did I miss? Anything you want to add?