Fantastic holiday... and the fun will continue

Wow, the Northeast has been having amazing weather!  It was positively glorious for yesterday's St. Patrick's Day parade in downtown Albany.  I can remember so many years of standing there freezing our asses off, but yesterday we roasted in the sun.  Although I've had a couple of memorable parade days in my new hometown of Henderson, NV--including one with my pal Hurricane Mikey--it sure was good to celebrate the holiday with old friends and family, in a place with a lot of history to me.

Here's a pic of me and my grandson, Connor, outside the McKownville Fire Department, where our pre-parade festivities began.  Can you freakin' believe how big that kid is?  He's 5'8" now!  I must be standing in a hole, because I'm almost 5'5" (I say that like there's a chance I might still grow) and I'm wearing heels, too.  (Of course.)

Oh, man, I love that kid--he's my bud.  We must have watched 10 Family Guy episodes together this visit.  Yep, making memories with Granny...

Here I am at the parade with my college roommate, Patty.  It's hard to believe it's been 36 years since we shared at dorm room at the State University of New York at Plattsburgh. 

Funny that we still have the same hair color... It was also the same color back in 1976--dark brown.

There were a bunch of us watching the parade from this vantage point, the New York State Education Building. 

Man, you don't see architecture like this in Las Vegas.  Amazing. 

When my sister Lori and I were kids, Beautiful Aunt Joyce used to take us here to visit the NYS Museum, before it moved into the Empire State Plaza.  Memories...

Hey, look who's marching in the parade.  That's my nephew Andy next to Connor, and Lori peeking from behind. 

I've had a blast being back in Albany and have packed in a lot of fun.  I've also packed on a few pounds--that dreaded middle aged spread is coming back.  That's okay; I head back to Vegas tomorrow afternoon and will get back into my low-carb diet, and I'll be dancing again.  And yay!--Courtney and Hazel will be coming with me, so the good times will continue with them for another week. 

Hope you're having fun as well, and if you're on the eastern half of the country, get outside and enjoy this record-breaking weather!

P.S.  Thanks for all your comments on the clips from my show last Saturday night.  That seems so long ago now!

A couple of videos from my show Saturday night

As promised, here are a couple of videos from my show at the Comedy Syndrome Comedy Club last Saturday night. 

My mother's gonna kill me for this one...



Not really--she's always a good sport.  It's even better when she's in the audience.

In this one, I'm ranting about my sagging jawline. 



Sadly, it's all true.  Enjoy and have a great day!

Greetings from the great Northeast!

I'm back from my much needed bloggy break!  Last Wednsday night, Mike and I flew to Albany for good times with family and friends.   For the past several years, I've been wanting to be in Albany for the St. Patrick's Day holiday season, and this is my year!

Of course, I couldn't wait to get my hands on this little one--the only person allowed to put her feet on Aunt Lori's kitchen table.

Hazel is still the most serious baby ever

We have been busy, busy.  Friday, Mike and I had lunch with my friend Warren, a 72-year-old widower I met last April on a nonstop Southwest flight from Albany to Vegas.  We talked and laughed the whole way and are now friends for life.  I see Warren every time he goes to Vegas or I come to Albany.  (I swear, if you sit next to me on a plane you may never get rid of me.) 

Anyway, Friday was my daughter Courtney's birthday--I am freaking that my "baby" is 33!--and that night she and her husband, John, had a coffeehouse gig with another musician friend.  My son, Christopher, sat in for a song, too. 

John, Chris, and Courtney (the birthday girl)

It always brings me such joy to watch my kids perform.

Saturday marked the beginning of the holiday season, with the annual Corned Beef and Cabbage Day at the Washington Tavern, an Albany landmark.  The place was packed and the free corned beef and cabbage, as well as the Guinness, was delicious. 

I had to limit myself to only one, though, because I had a big night ahead of me--I was headlining at the Comedy Syndrome Comedy Club in downtown Albany that night.  Headlining!

It's one thing to do a 15-minute set here and there, but headlining is something else.  Headliners do at least 45 minutes, which in my case is everything funny I've ever said in my life.  There's a certain amount of pressure--you realize that people are paying good money and are dedicating their Saturday night to see you.  It had better be good!  That's why I needed the bloggy break--had to get my act together!

The place was packed.  Russ Davignon, who runs the club, was thrilled with the turnout and we even had a RECORD BREAKING CROWD!!!  No pressure, huh?  Thankfully, I was the best, funniest, wittiest, most relaxed version of myself on stage that night and knocked it out of the park.  WHEW!

Oh, it was so much fun.  And see, I really do practice what I preach about going out of your comfort zone.  It's scary as hell sometimes, but that's the only way growth can happen.

My sister Lori took some videos and I'll post them on YouTube in the next couple of days.  I promise.

I was so happy that Mike was able to spend a few days here, and was thrilled that he was there to see my show.  He's so wonderful and supportive.  I'm a lucky girl.  Mike headed back to Vegas yesterday (sniff).

Saying good-bye at the airport

I'm here for another week, and a busy week it will be.  Life is good, folks!  

Taking a little bloggy break (not for long)

I'll be back on Tuesday, March 13 with lots of pictures and updates!

You weigh in on Tyson's upcoming show

I got quite a response, both here and on the link I put on Facebook, to Saturday's post about Mike Tyson's upcoming one-man show.  As I was writing that post, I thought of someone else as well.  So did a couple of readers.

"Same goes for KOBE THE RAPIST as well!"

"I was just about to get on here and agree with all you said and then go into my tirade about Kobe the Rapist Bryant. Every time I see his smug mug on TV I want to puke. I can't stand the Lakers and have lost respect for certain friends who rather say "well, he wasn't convicted" than look at the facts. I KNOW THE FAMILY OF THE GIRL WHO WAS RAPED. Rape is when someone forces you to have sex against your will. It doesn't matter if you said yes once, it doesn't matter if you change your mind and say no, when you are brutally attacked by someone as you are screaming "NO! STOP!", its called RAPE. And I speak from experience being raped myself as a teenager (age 14). These assholes don't deserve to be making so much money as celebrities - but that's our society. Who cares as long as they play sports well or have good stories to tell.  As for the LAPD doing that to Mike - if that's true, its disgusting and they should all be fired."

Don't get me started on Kobe.  And how about Michael Jackson?

"Michael Jackson certainly fooled a lot of people. You may remember he was considering doing a long-term Las Vegas gig after he escaped his child rape charge."

 That's a tough one for me.  He may have been enough of an oddball that he... jeez, I can't even finish the sentence.  I just don't know.

"Can't imagine going to his show....he is a despicable human being. Makes me think of OJ's supporters, who loved him and sought out his company, knowing his probable guilt. The cult of personality."

OJ is another one who makes me want to puke.  For years, my mother would say, "Well, he may be innocent.  They never found the killer," until we finally told her if she keeps that shit up, we're gonna put her in a home. 

"There are a million things in this world to make jokes about. Rape and pedophilia should always be left out of any kind of joke. I mean Tyson bit off an ear in a fight...that's comedy. Tyson getting a show is also comedy, because who the hell would ever believe that big man with a face tattoo and a mickey mouse voice was ever a fighter. Which may explain the reason he had to "take" it since no woman would sleep with Squeaky "No Nuts" Mcsqueakerson. And now that I broke my own rule, I say... no he doesn't deserve more publicity and I hope that people are smart enough to boycott him, forcing him to return under the rock he crawled out from under."

You know, I wondered about Tyson's voice, too.  He's not exactly, um, "speaker material."

Some people have a much more open mind than I do.

"Watch his movie...I had no interest in seeing it, but was forced to. Was actually interesting. Made me rethink. Remember two sides to every story."

 Okay, I know he had a rough childhood, blah, blah.  A lot of people did.  But they don't end up raping and beating.  I'm more in agreement with this comment:

"I find that there's usually only one side to the story of rape and that's the one the victim plays over and over in her head for years after the assault."

Here's another reader with a perspective I just can't embrace.

"Let's not be so quick to judge. He paid is debt to society by going to prison (as judged by peers in society), so that is perhaps the rationale for not mentioning the rape as a regret. I'm *not* trying to justify the behavior, but perhaps that's why he didn't mention that as top of mind." 

Call me judgmental.  That's not a news flash.  I don't buy the "debt to society" crap.

"As someone who's been raped not once, not twice but three times, by three different men, in three totally different venues, I can assure you... a rapists' life goes on in their own sick world to further their demented mind, while the raped are left to deal with the aftermath their whole lives, tainting EVERY relationship they EVER have. There is nothing a rape victim can put behind them! Where a rapist can do his time, and move on with their lives."

Here's a couple more.

"My problem with all who commit heinous acts - when do we stop forgiving and providing approval for their "contrition" and begin saying enough is enough GFY?"

"This new show makes Jersey Shore seem like a better way to spend 40 mins."

And finally...

"People forget fast don't they?! Plus, HE'S A MAN. MEN get away with shit ALL THE TIME!!!! Someone should start a boycott of his show."

I don't want to man bash, but can you think of a female equivalent? 

Thank you for all your comments.  And by the way, I will go to my grave believing Anita Hill is not a liar.  We have a Supreme Court justice who's a pig as well.

Sorry, I don't find convicted rapists entertaining

I'm not making this up.  According to a recent article in the Las Vegas Sun, Mike Tyson is set to debut a one-man show on April 13 at the MGM Grand's Hollywood Theater.  In "Mike Tyson:  Undisputed Truth -- Live on Stage" Tyson will be telling stories from his life.  The show is booked to run through April 18 and tickets range from $91 to $499.

Can I remind you that Tyson was CONVICTED OF RAPE in 1992 and spent three years in prison?  That he used to beat the shit out of Robin Gibbons?  Nice guy.

Maybe he'll tell this story in his show, relayed in the Sun's article:

"The cops pulled me over one day; I was all drunk and high on cocaine, and I told the cops I was lost and couldn't find my way around, and the cops drove me to the party. The cop who pulled me over, he says, 'You were great in "Hangover," and he drove me to the dope house, to a party.

"Oh, God. I had no license.  I had nothing.  It was crazy!  But he drove me there, and then he told the guy at the door, 'You make sure Mike gets home.'"

I guess some people are just above the law.  It was the LAPD, by the way.  That's what we want from our law enforcement, right?  Taxpayers in LA must be thrilled to see their money spent on that cop's salary.

Here's my favorite piece of the article:

"People want to know, 'What's one of your biggest regrets?' Wow, that ear-biting thing, that was a pretty big one!" he says.

Oh, really?  NOT FUCKING RAPING SOMEONE? (Excuse me while I channel Sam Kinison.)  Not keeping an eye on your 4-year-old daughter so she wouldn't strangle herself on the cord of a treadmill?  Did they make the Top 10 of your regret list?

It makes me sick that anyone could support such a show.  Now excuse me while I wipe the projectile vomit from my monitor.  

A sad leap day for fans of The Monkees

While driving to work today, I listened to a story on NPR about leap year babies.  The broadcast got me thinking that although leap year might be a crappy day for a birthday, it would probably be a good day to die because then your family would only be sad on your death anniversary every four years instead of once a year.   

How’s that for a line of reasoning?  

Well, I sure as hell never thought that Davy Jones would die on this leap year.  As I write this, I’m still in shock.

Oh, how I loved The Monkees .  When I was no more than ten years old, I’d run to the A&P to pick up the latest 16 Magazine the day it came out.  I’d pore over it  in the tiny back bedroom of the upstairs rented flat we lived in before my parents bought the house on Lincoln Avenue, gazing lovingly at pictures of Davy, Peter, Mike, and Micky.  Little did I know that would be the beginning of a life of boy-craziness.

I listened to my Monkees albums, which I bought with my own money, for hours on end on my little record player (complete with the penny I’d place on the needle to prevent skips).   I’d read every word of the liner notes and stare into each photo, imagining what it would be like to meet them in person.  I was sure that if Davy and I knew each other in real life, the twelve-year age difference between us would be totally insignificant.  I'd be out of high school before he turned thirty.  We would make our relationship work.

I remember sitting on the floor next to my bed one night, listening to an album that had photos on the back cover and stats of the four of them--their birthdays, places of birth, and height.  I think it was Meet the Monkees.   Anyway, my mother came in and she was being really nice, quite the opposite of her "Jesus Christ, pick up this goddamn room" mood.

She asked to see the album cover I held with such adoration.   

"Isn't Davy cute?" I said.  "He's the cutest one."

Mom looked over the front and them scrutinized the info on the back.  "He's only five-foot three!" she exclaimed, handing me back the album cover.

"That's okay," I called out to her as she left the room.  "I'm only four-foot six."

My friend Lisa Gioia-Acres said today in a Facebook post, "Davy Jones from The Monkees has died.  A little bit of my childhood went with him.  R.I.P."

So true.

I found this little tribute on YouTube. 

What's your favorite memory of The Monkees?  

ADD, Jewtopia, Showgirl 101... something for everyone!

I loved your comments on Saturday's post.  Thank you all so much.  Living with an ADD spouse does take a lot of patience, and as I've said a million times, I have the patience of John McEnroe in five o'clock traffic.  In that case, I really wasn't in any big rush to get my mail and his "two to the eighth smarty-pants power" was pretty entertaining.  Oh, but believe me, there are times when that ADD shit makes me positively mental.

Everybody has something, though.  God knows I'm a royal pain in the ass.  A couple of weekends ago, Mike and I and my friend Gail went to see a show in town called Jewtopia.  It was a cute celebration of Jewy-ness and one part had me convinced that I, in fact, am actually a Jew and not just a big fan of them.

There was this one skit about a Jew searching for the perfect table in a restaurant.  "No, not near the kitchen... Over there?  Under the vent?  Are you crazy?  No, I want a booth... Not that one!  Not near children...  That one over there would be okay, but it's too close to the speaker..."  I put Mike through that hell every time we eat out!  I was just talking about this with my whack-job blogging friend Debbie of From Venting to Viggo; we're both the same way. 

And that's just the tip of the iceberg of what Mike has to put up with.  We're a match made in reality show heaven. 

To make up for my mental-ness, I am working really hard to give him a rock-hard sexy body to enjoy.  I'm only three pounds away from my goal of 134.anything and this week, in addition to my usual ballet and dance fusion classes I started Showgirl 101.  What a blast!  At the beginning of the class, the teacher asked, "Has anyone ever danced in heels before?" to which I replied, "Not sober!"  That's not quite true--I've danced plenty of times in heels to a rock band, but doing real steps is another thing.

We started simply walking across the floor like a showgirl and then progressed to a series of step-ball changes and hip movements.  There were only three of us in the class--me, a slender and beautiful young girl who was probably a little older than my kids, and a woman named Becky who was probably a little younger than my mother.  Or maybe not.

So guess which one of us totally rocked it?  Becky!  And let me make it clear that she's not one of those aging, well-preserved typical Vegas women complete with the facelift.  No, she's probably about five feet tall and could pass for your favorite aunt.  She was sexy as hell--she really knew how to move! 

It was so cool to watch her.  The young woman and I were both a little, "I hope no one's secretly  videotaping this" as we danced across the floor; I'm getting better, but I'm still a little spastic when it comes to following dance steps.  But Becky just let loose and enjoyed herself.  And it showed.

So anyway, dancing is doing the trick for me.  I feel fantastic and I must look pretty good, too.  Did you see my Facebook post on Sunday?

Seriously! 
 
It's all so fun.  That's what life is all about, no?  What kind of fun are you having these days?

Life with an ADD spouse

I have a mailbox back in my old Linda Land neighborhood that I don't get to very often, especially since I've been working regular full-time hours on the way, way other side of town.  So recently I asked my beloved husband, who does not work regular full-time hours, to pick up my mail for me.

"No problem," he said.  He's over there all the time anyway.

"Here's the key," I said.  "It's mailbox 256.  Are you going to remember that?" 
When you're dealing with someone with ADD, you do what you can to make sure they won't forget.  Because they will. 

"Of course I'll remember.  That's two to the eighth power." 

Yes, of course. 

The next day...

Me:  "Did you get my mail?"
Mike:  "I did, but I got there too late and they already closed."
Me:  "So you didn't get my mail.  That's okay."

 The next day...

Me:  "Did you get my mail?"
Mike:  "I did, but I forgot the key."
Me:  "So you didn't get my mail.  That's okay.  Do you remember the mailbox number?"
Mike:  "Of course.  It's 256.  That's two to the eighth power."

 Yes, of course.

The next day...

Me:  "Did you get my mail?"
Mike:  "No, I completely forgot to go over there."
Me:  "That's okay." 

The next day...

Me:  "Did you get my mail?"
Mike:  "Yes!  It's there on the counter."
Me (nearly dying of shock):  "Thank you, honey!"
Mike:  "Yeah, I didn't have your key, but I talked the guy into giving me your mail."
Me:  "Huh?  Where's my key?"
Mike:  "I don't know."
Me:  "But you do know my mailbox number is..."
Mike:  "Two-five-six.  That's two to the..."
Me (figuring that key will cost me about $75 to replace):  "Eighth power."   

The next day...

Mike:  "Hey, I found the key to your mailbox."
Me:  "You did?  Where was it?"
Mike:  "At the bottom of the hamper."

 Of course.

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?