necesito aprender español. google no funcionará más.

"Olle vato, que paso? Yo soy con mi mi que no? Cayate puto!"

That's what hubby's friend's wife said to say to my neighbor - who is outside right now (11:33pm CST) shoveling his driveway. Seriously. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU. You live in a dense residential area (dark green for you Sim City fans)... where the houses are 10 feet apart, tops...

what
the
fuck
is
wrong
with
you?

Tonight we had 1 inch of snow, maybe 2, tops.

The other night (we got about 5 inches overnight), he was out at 12am shoveling - and his toddler was outside with him...

This has to be against the noise ordinance, right? I mean there wasn't enough snow there to get stuck in. Seriously.

WTFIWWY?

I should open the door right now and say "¿Dónde está mi pistola?"

Alas, I am scantly clad - it's 11:38pm, after all.

the middle road

Last night was my intermediate comedy class graduation show... I didn't go up.

I am not sure what went wrong with this class - or rather not just one thing led me to these feelings. Maybe I'm just a bitch - but this was in no way an "Intermediate" class. The majority of the class had also been with me in the beginner class (which was a prerequisite for the Intermediate class). I really feel that had I had a chance to be in a class with those who had been doing comedy on a regular basis for a year or more, things may have been different. From day one of the class through last night, the instructor and even the co-instructors had no idea I had been doing comedy for well over a year - on a regular basis.

And while I don't think I'm good - hell, most times I struggle with doing an OK job, I'm not a nuts and bolts beginner. But I was treated that way. I know how it feels to get up in front of a primed audience who is there to laugh at everything you say. I know how that feels - it feels great... and I love that I have had that experience already - but that wasn't what I was looking for from the Intermediate class.

I wanted to network, to get some tips to write better, to perform better , to network and to be seen by the booker at the club.

Honestly, the class made me dislike doing comedy. Made me dislike writing comedy (which I already struggled with) and made what little confidence I'd built up over the past year and a half crumble beneath me.

Not fat enough to tell fat jokes - when in reality I'm not that much smaller than the biggest guy that was in my class. Not white enough to talk about how white I am - but I am truly whiter than the guy who used that for nearly 3.5 of his five minutes. And from week to week - the criticism I got directly contradicted what I heard previously. The criticism I had acted on and worked hard to remedy for the current class. I was lost - and the work I was putting in - for nothing. What I had on paper didn't even sound like me... and it was worse on stage. I was just reciting lines.

I emailed the class organizer last Friday and hope he'd have passed onto the instructor I wasn't going to go up (and even why) - but he didn't. So I had to deal with "Just go up, you'll love it." badgering from the instructor up to show time. Never mind he didn't care WHY I wasn't going up... he didn't even ask... And I didn't bother to tell anyone in class why I wasn't going up. I didn't want to cause a scene or any other such. Well, those who read this blog know - but I didn't go up last night - not because I'm chicken - I LOVE the stage. I LOVE comedy. I didn't go up because it would have been someone else up there, telling jokes I didn't believe in, that I didn't find funny, that I didn't feel represented me.

You see, I want to work hard - and then do my best. And if I fail, I fail because I didn't work hard enough, or didn't write well enough. And if I succeeed, I want to know I got that laugh because I worked damn hard for it. I want to earn my responses - good or bad.

So, given all of that, the way I saw/see it - I had 3 options:

1. Do the material "I've" written in class - and unfortunately I don't feel comfortable with, I'm not committed to it and and I don't feel like it's me - so that option means not being true to myself.
2. Do my own material I do believe in, which is disrespectful to the instructor and what he's asked for in the class.
3. Refrain from participating but be there to support my classmates by being in the audience.
   

So right before the show, just before the instructor came around with the order (he had me in the 2 spot, and was going to put me up regardless of what I said), one of the co-instructors actually took a few minutes to sit down and ask me why I wasn't going up. I told him all of it, and he seemed like he understood. I really appreciated that. He gave me his email address in case I ever want some feedback (and I do).

And right up until I walked out the door last night, people were commenting on how one day I'd get up there, and that I'd love it and they'd probably see me at open mics someday.

Someday...

This did do one thing for me - it solidified WHY I do comedy - for ME. It IS all about me - and if I'm not going to go up and be me, I'm not going to go up at all.

next stop: frustration station

I'm so frustrated with comedy right now.

I have been busting my ass for weeks now trying to nail down a new five minute set for a class I'm taking in Chicago. I really was hoping this would be a point where I could really hunker down and come up with some new material and solidify who I thought I was as a comic, but it's turned out to be the opposite.

Each week I have left class more frustrated than the week before. Each week I don't just show up, I really believe I've come prepared, acting on the feedback previously given, and really trying to turn on a new persona - and get away from resting on fat jokes. And each week I walk away feeling like I've accomplished NOTHING.

Last week I wrote and wrote and wrote and sent some stuff to a couple of my old comedy buddies in Texas for some feedback - and Dondo was right - it was ALL crap. It wasn't me. It wasn't funny. So I spent nearly 8 hours straight refining my premises, going over line by line - making sure my setups/punches/tags proved my premise. And I felt really good about 2 of the 3 of my bits, only to get another night of relentless unconstructive criticism.

And I *know* I hear more negatives than positives, I'm like that. And life's hard, princess - not everyone's going to like me. And comedy's hard. And I don't need my ego stroked ALL the time. But when you cough up a few hundred dollars, you'd hope there'd be something constructive there.

I've found this class harder to deal with than some of the toughest open mic nights I've ever been to. Should a class I've paid for and put so much into make me feel worse than getting heckled by drunk, unemployed men in a dark Irish pub when I haven't really prepared?

I'm not enjoying myself. I'm not having fun. And yes, I know comedy is HARD work, but it should also be fun, shouldn't it? And worse is that my instructor really isn't enjoying himself, either - which makes me feel like I'm not trying hard enough as a student.

So "graduation" is a little over a week away - on stage in front of a good number of folks I'd invited a few weeks ago when I believe I would have something worth seeing. Now I want to uninvite them. And I don't want the club booker to see what I've got - cause I don't feel like it's me.

I don't believe in my material. I don't believe in my new persona and I don't believe I've much of anything good to preform. And sadly, I don't believe I got a good value for what I've spent.

Urgh.

Your privates are not private

In the news, recently, has been story after story about a Maine Middle School who has approved giving birth control to its students.

Ok, without recapping the whole story, here's a breakdown of the facts, as I have understood them:

1. The school has a health center.
2. Students, with parent's permission, can utilize the health center for their health needs.
3. The school board has recently approved those who have parental permission to utilize the health center to get birth control pills (among other contraceptives).

Ok, so we can ALL agree that an 11 year should not be having sex. An 11 year old should really have the fear of God put into them and be told that their netherreggions will grow full of some scary monster if they have sex... but - ok, we all agree - MIDDLE SCHOOLERS SHOULD NOT BE HAVING SEX.

But thanks to our wonderful society and un-engaged parents, kids are becoming more and more wannabe adults. And thus, some kids are going to have sex.

I should say here, that my 7th grade year in middle school (back in 88), my cousin was pregnant - an eighth grader. And she wasn't the only one. So I know it happens.

Now, my entire blog post here isn't really about the health center, or the birth control, it's about another issue that struck me while listening to this news story: Kids who are approved to use the health center, and who request birth control - those kids - can do so without their parents even knowing what they're asking for or being given.

Ok, WTF? What the fuck?

When I was 11 I had no privacy. NONE. My parents knew everything I did. When I wanted to go spend the night at a friend's house, my mom would call her mom, and they'd talk, and agree, and then I could go. No talk, no go. There was nothing in my 11-year-old-life my parents didn't know.

Apparently there is a law on the books in Maine that protects the privacy of minors. Even from their parents.

What the fuck? Again, I ask you, WHAT THE FUCK!?

Until I was the age of 18 and had moved out of my house, my parents had every right to know every detail of what was going on in my life. And those parents, whether or not they give permission for their tax breaks to get to use the health center, should be able to count on knowing what's going on in that health center, as it relates to their child.

The problem isn't the school, or the birth control or the health center - the problem is the obnoxious law that prevents the parents and guardians of minors from knowing what is being put into their children's bodies!

I don't recall a doctor's visit when I was in middle school that my mom wasn't in the room for. I couldn't get a prescription for an ear infection without my parent's picking it up for me at the pharmacy - now we're protecting the PRIVACY RIGHTS of children who cant' even realize that at the age of 10, 11 and 12 they're TOO YOUNG to be having sex?

OMG.

So these little prostitots are off fucking around, get birth control, and the parents aren't let in on this big secret becauese the kids are protected? Good lawwwwddd!

Let me guarantee you, if I were 11, having sex --- within seconds of my folks finding out, I would have had all the birth control I would have needed. Most likely in the form of a wooden spoon or some other such.

The only privacy law my parents instilled in me was that as long as I was living in their home, under their rules, and under the age of 18, nothing was private - unless they let it be that way.

that "no so fresh" feeling

So, it's been quiet here. Yeah. I've pretty much been stewing since early last week.

The last of the beginning comedy workshop sessions was last Monday, and it didn't go so well - for me. I had been super frustrated up to that point, trying to write new material. I did about 3/4 new stuff and my comments were - as follows (paraphrased, of course):

1. I'm not fat enough to tell fat jokes
2. Sadly, I may have white-girl syndrome - i.e. white girl who tells jokes but nothing really memorable or that stands out.
3. And this quote "Mentally, you're ahead of where you should be." Followed by "But don't take that in the wrong way."
and finally
4. I have a spark.

So yeah - I was taken aback by the fat thing. Yes, most of the jokes I write have been fat jokes - but I've really been trying very hard to not write so many fat jokes. They just get the laughs. But hey, so does the word "fuck" - and I have been doing better to not say that. I already knew that I had too many fat jokes - but to be told I'm not fat enough . I guess it's a compliment? So yeah.

I'm bothered that I'm not unique. I have been thinking all week about things about me that make me different. Negative characteristics - I'm lazy, I'm smart but don't apply myself, I hate people, in general. Who am I? I had thought I was the fat girl who was fun to be with - but now I have to think again.

Not sure about what 3 meant. I have been taking it as I should go back and start over and not get ahead of myself. I never asked to be an opener - I was asked, so I thought I was ready . Maybe this means I'm not ready?

I have a spark. Yes, yes, that's true. Comedy is like all I think about. I watch comedy- live and TV, I read books about comedy, I write at least an hour a day on average. All I think about is comedy. I'm kind of obsessed. So spark - well, yeah. You could say that.

I guess I just wasn't sure what to expect, and while the input was objective and critical - it wasn't very constructive on how it was presented. For a few days I thought that for the money I spent I should have gotten some constructive criticism out of the class - I just think that there were others there (granted, totally n00bs) - and they were raked over the coals - but there was at least something positive communicated to each of them. I felt as though I was just - brushed aside . Could be because the night was coming to a close quickly and we were out of time ,and I was last.

I open in Springfield this weekend. I have been second-guessing myself all week. I've decided to the gig, then throw out all my material and start over fresh after Saturday night.

So the intermediate workshop starts tomorrow. We'll see how that goes. I know I need a thicker skin, but 6 weeks of negativity may not bode well for my self esteem. I should get at least a few constructive items for my money - right?

We'll see.

god is pro-choice

Watching the news tonight - there's a story about a Planned Parenthood opening in my city. It's a large state-of-the-art facility that provides services to women and families. And yes, in some cases, abortions.

Of course the story turns to the protesters. Protesters who walk up and down the sidewalks - circling the building seven times (a Biblical reference, of course). Some wearing t-shirts, lots carrying signs, and a few carrying crosses. The vast majority of protesters - Christians. Wearing Jesus shirts, carrying crosses, reciting prayers and creeds...

"Abortion is homicide."
"Life begins at conception."

Nothing that anyone reading this hasn't heard before.

The protesters have succeeded, thus far, in hindering the opening of the facility - a facility that rightfully and legally applied to the city, and been granted, the approval to build the structure and occupy it. Now, due to these protesters, the city has put the opening of the facility on hold pending more investigation of whether or not paperwork was filed correctly.

Planned Parenthood - the organization that strikes fear and anger in the hearts of Christians everywhere. Yet Planned Parenthood is not, and has never been, synonymous with abortion. The organization provides services including STD testing, sexual health resources and education, pregnancy testing, pap smears, birth control and yes, abortions.

I know the facts - I know that Planned Parenthood facilities perform approximately 17% of the total US abortions performed each year. And I also know there are approximately 1.2 million abortions in this country each year.

A point of contention for me is that I do not believe that all abortions are evil and wrong. I have to leave room for extreme health circumstances. But I firmly believe that abortion is not a form of birth control. And it shouldn't be treated that way.

So, all of that said. I'm just simply infuriated by "Christians" who protest these clinics. To them I wish I could convey how some of the rest of the world feel when we see these ridiculous protests that benefit no one. They don't save lives. Protests haven't resulted in any marked difference in the number of abortions performed in our country. And protests haven't resulted in a difference in the number Planned Parenthood performs.

There is no measurable result of your holier-than-thou protests. There is no measurable result coming from your marching, your chanting and your arrogant and ignorant dissent.

These people really do practice what is a huge turnoff to me: ala carte Christianity. They pick and choose which portions of The Bible they use to condemn and judge others. In one breath, they chose to become Christians - to follow God, to surrender their lives. But the very next breath condemns choices that others make - using that same free will.

You see, I believe, very firmly God is pro-choice.

That's right - I'll say it again - GOD IS PRO CHOICE.

And how can I believe this?

Get two post its - label one YES and the other NO. Then think about a decision you have to make.

If God didn't want us to have a choice - the only post-it that would be out - when you're looking at any decision would be just the YES or just the NO. No choice. You are only given the option God wants you to have.

We have free-will We are GRANTED free-will.. And you, Mr./Mrs. Protester, can't have it both ways. You can't believe and profess that God has granted man free-will and be anything other than pro-choice.

[if you'd like to argue free will - here's my thoughts: Throughout the Bible, God continuously instructs mankind to make righteous decisions through free-will. Yet these protesters misinterpret a few verses to arrive at the false idea that mankind does not have free will to do good or make righteous decisions. If you need a few reminders on God's giving man free will, check out Deuteronomy 30:11-19, John 14:15; John 15:7; Romans 2:10; 1 Cor 9:24; 1 Timothy 6:12; 2 Timothy 2:21 and 1 John 5:1.]

If God were not pro-choice - then there'd be no options. God has the ability to completely take away the ability to take away a choice. He has the actual ability to remove one of those post its. And as humans, we are in no position to do or think or say otherwise.

Either God granted man free-will or not. You can't have it both ways. Either God grants free-will and allows there to be a choice, or not.

Why not set aside your signs and your t-shirts and stop your chanting and get involved with the women who have one of the 1.2 million abortions each year? Why? Because you won't get news coverage for that. You don't get cool matching t-shirts that say "Choose relationships." You don't get to make signs, carry them around and be seen. You don't get to end your day getting high fives from 20 other people who stood next to you.

No, instead you'd have to make a difference in someone's life, one on one. You'd have to set aside your warped and tunneled view of what and who belongs next to you on Sunday morning - or who you choose to spend time with instead of you ladies circle or church softball team. You'd actually have to do something measurable for a real-life-person.

But instead, you choose to carry your signs, march and complain about how unfair it is that the rest of the world has choices.

I find that disturbingly ironic.

And simply because you, Mr./Mrs.Protester believe it's in your hands to pick and choose which portions of grace you pass onto others, God gets to freely choose. And so do I.

who does number 3 work for?

Last Sunday I participated in my first ever comedy contest. A lot of comics have mixed feelings about such contests - and I'm one of them. In one respect, it's like comparing apples to oranges, quite often, but on the other side it's fun to be a bit competitive, at least outwardly.

The organizers of the contest did a great job with things, IMHO. We had a great host/emcee - Vince Carone, and it was at ComedyComedy Live in Aurora. I love that venue - well, when there aren't bands in the courtyard.

11 comics - 5-8 mins each. It was a good mix of folks, really. Some seasoned, some not.

The audience voted - everyone there at the beginning of the show got a list of all the acts and chose their 1st, 2nd and 3rd place selections. The 1st place comic got a paid slot as the feature for a weekend at ComedyComedy Live and also a spot in the fall competition at CCL.

I was fourth in the lineup. I'd rate my set as a B-. I had thrown in 2 new bits I'd not done on stage yet (not something I'd normally do, but wanted to get them out there to a real crowd). The outcome of those two new bits? One needs to be pared down, but had 3 definite full crowd laughs, the other went really well and I'll be keeping it - though it's definitely a bit that needs to be in the middle of a set - and some crowds may benefit from it being explained to them [snicker]. I added a zinger to my intro based on the host/emcee's set before the competition started - that was a good move to get the crowd on my side.

At the last minute - I threw in an extra bit because I was worried I didn't have a long enough set. I realized about 3 lines in that I had already fucked it up, and then that bit was a struggle to fix. That was simply due to not practicing enough.

I tend to over prepare - to the point of not being engaged enough with the crowd - but in this case, I didn't prepare that bit enough and I shouldn't have added it. I think that bit changed the outcome.

The result? I came in as the 2nd loser (3rd place). Not bad. The winner did very well - he was a semifinalist in the Chicago Sierra Mist Comedy Challenge this past summer, and 2nd place was taken by Stacy Lynn Fletcher - a fairly seasoned comic who has done some cool things on a big scale - including "Showtime At The Apollo".

So, all in all - not bad being third. Not as good as first, but not as bad as last.

why you hate childrens

I have two black garbage cans - the tote kind with a handle and wheels. They sit outside my garage, just in front of it, and wait to be filled with my filth and excess stuff.

More than a few handfuls of time over the past few weeks, I've come home to find my trash cans strewn about my driveway. Sometimes in odd positions (doggy style, for example), and sometimes knocked over (thankfully not knocked up). They've been empty, as they have been replaced with the city's snazzy blue cart for filth - but still, my trash cans lay about.

It's been raining a lot here (and you have no idea how hard it is to find somewhere to park and Ark at PF Chang's). And I briefly considered the rain or water had been moving them or knocking them over, or some combination of both. I realized this was crazy, as I neither live on a hill or in a river's current. But on clear days, the same thing happened. What could be going on?

By an act of what I could only call God shining down upon me, I got to work from home for an entire day. A day of lounging about in my pajamas, throwing the ball for the dog, while hitting a few keyboard buttons. True bliss, I tell you.

It also occurred that on this righteous day of aforementioned God-shining, that this may be the chance for me to catch the aliens who were abducting and quite obviously sexually molesting my trash cans (I knew at the least they were anal probed, as one of the can's wheels is slightly askew). And even more ideal - my home office faces the front of the house - where I can see the entire driveway and even the trash cans, if I were so inclined to get up out of my chair.

But like any smart aliens, they would not be tricked... they must have sensed my presence - or smelled my lunch of a fried egg sammich - so the day went on as usual - nothing of note and no sign of E.T.

At 3:45, I spotted the spaceship coming up the driveway - actually 2 of them. They weren't like I had expected - they had 2 spoked wheels and looked a lot like bicycles. And the aliens, must to my disappointment, looked a lot like pre-teen boys.

I hung up the phone to the FBI so as not to seem like an idiot.

And there it was - the cause of my trash can disruption - 2 boys, on bikes, running into my trash cans. Yes, running into them. They'd hit them then try to avoid them and run into them again.

They weren't even wearing helmets! The horror!

I watched as they did this 3 or 4 times - riding up and down the street and into my driveway - into my trash cans.

Then I got out the camcorder. I don't know how to use it yet, but I just wanted a prop, really. That's what I needed, a good prop.

The next time they came through, I opened the blinds a bit and the window and yelled "Stay the hell out of my driveway or I'll call the cops."

I could tell that wasn't effective, as they laughed and laughed as they rode away. Normally I wouldn't mind being laughed at, but those little shits... Mike was on the phone and had a good laugh.... I hung up and sat back down to "work".

A few minutes came and went and they came back! This time I pulled the blinds up with force and yelled, "HEY!" Holding the camcorder, I pointed it at them and said - "Come back again and I'll fucking give this video to the cops. " Then I sat a webcam on the windowsill (it wasn't hooked up, but the shock factor was awesome.

I heard one kid say "Oh crap!" and they rode home and proceeded to talk in the driveway about the mean lady down the street who has video of them in her driveway.

Yeah.

And the webcam still sits right there on the windowsill.

Today I meet my new PCP. Yay! :( I hate doctors. HATE. It'll just be more of "You're fat, lose weight." "You need to take less insulin." All things I know, of course, with no plan on how to fix it.

2 questions today for new doc:
1. What is your stance on weight-loss surgery - specific to me and my medical issues.
2. What is your take on hypnosis for weight loss?

I am going to a hypnotherapist on Thursday. My appointment is as 6:00 and it's a free consultation - to talk about my goals, ask questions and to find out, indeed, if I can be hypnotized. I have my reservations, of course.

Here's where I'm going. Good testimonials for weight loss.

I'm at the point where I'm ready to do crazy/non-traditional/drastic things to lose weight.

I'm also applying for season 2 of Big Medicine.

eat me

So last night I'm IM'ing with a friend of mine, who happens to be vegetarian. She was telling me about this soup she made.

I, in turn, tell her about this awesome bacon from this place in Missouri.

She then goes on a 153 line rant about how gross meat is.

"Ewwwww, I mean - gag. I just can't... Those animals, those poor animals. The thought just makes me want to puke." blah, blah fucking blah.

You know what? I didn't go on and on about your eating of vegetables - so lay the fuck off about my carnivorous nature.

"Oh my god! Lentils in tomato broth? Fucking nasty! And Lima beans? Holy fuck, that's gross! I mean just think about how they spread feces all over that field and those plants just lay there, below all that shit. Gross. Ack. It seriously makes me want to heave."

God that's annoying. Fuck! I mean, in those moments, I just want to kick the living shit out of you. So fuck you, vegetarians. Fuck you and your pretentious judgment of my meat-eating. Besides you eating no meat leaves more meat for me.

At least when I describe what I have for dinner it doesn't boil down to beans, beans an beans. Ha!

Farter!

but i don't wanna!!!

Listen, I'm 30-years-old... and I don't want set up your meetings or type up your meeting notes. I want to do my job. The job I was hired to do. I want to make cool web things. I want to build neat internet projects.

Occasionally I want to spend some time reading blogs and trying out new technology. I want to blog about how I'm feeling so I don't take it out on anyone important. I want a sense of completion every now and then.

I want to contribute ideas and change the way people think about our products and what we do - and I want to use technology to do it in creative, exciting ways.

You know, the things we talked about in my interview and during my first week here? Yeah, those things.

But I really, really don't want to be an administrative assistant. I'm too far along in my career to take a step back like that. It hurts my pride... it damages my self-worth. Both of which are in short supply.

Don't get me wrong - had you said early on that part of my duties would be to do secretarial things, I may understand how it has become a big chunk of my day. But the fact is that I'm an Internet guru - a web marketing mogul, of sorts - and I don't want to be a secretary. I'm not good at that stuff. Well, ok, I am but that's not my point.

Alright?

I typed up your meeting notes and they're in your in-box.

I want ice cream. And a pedicure.

my biggest mistake

How did it come to this? My biggest mistake was letting myself get to this point. This is my fault. I have brought this upon myself.

Very soon reality will hit - the same reality that has hit others in my family...

My body will just stop accepting the insulin I am taking. My kidneys will fail. That's if I don't have a heart attack or stroke first. In the short term, my eyes will get even blurrier than they already are. I won't be able to take care of myself - simple things like going to the bathroom are starting to get difficult.

I'm already to the point where it's painful. I hurt, everywhere, every day. It hurts to sit up for more than a few hours at a time.

And this love of food. I can't ignore it. I can't turn it off. I can't stop it.

I believe it will stop me before I figure out how to stop it.

HWJD? (how would jesus drive)

Every time someone cuts me off in traffic or on the way to the Taco Bell drive thru - they have a barrage of Jesus bumper stickers...

"God's Gift On Earth"
[picture of a church]
"Assembly Required"

"Jesus is the reason for EVERY season."

And Jesus probably wouldn't have been so showy - I mean really - an Oldsmobile Achieva with spinners? Son of God seems more like a Kia Spectra guy. Good warranty and all.

SRSLY - if you want to drive like an asshole, don't put Jesus stickers on your car. I'm sure Jesus would have yieled to the right-of-way drivers - even if that wouldhave meant waiting 42 more seconds for that chalupa.

And yeah, I think Jesus would have made a run for the border. Jesus seems like a spicy chicken chalupa guy to me.

barren and bitchy

I find it somewhat unfair that Nicole Richie is pregnant and I am barren.

*sigh*

But hey, at least now she'll be eating for one.


She's a marvel of modern medicine...with as gaping as that vagina is, you would think gravity would have won.

Enterprise Rent-A-Car "We'll Fuck You Up!"

The bad part about traveling by train to Chicago is that if you want to do anything outside of the immediate area of your hotel, you have to rent a car. Renting said car is expensive, to say the least – not to mention the ridiculous gas prices in a big city.

So, Becky and I are in Chicago (yes, the same trip as the "burn curse" entry before this one) and I have a second interview in Woodridge [read: West suburbs] and had to rent a car.

So, B and I are staying in the Hyatt Regency, and there’s supposedly an Enterprise Rent-A-Car on-site. So the night before I needed the car, I call Enterprise, and apparently the on-site location has been closed – as of that day. Suck.

We needed the car the next AM so I could get to the burbs by mid-AM. It also happens to be the day we’re leaving Chicago to go back to Springfield. So the plan is to:
1. Check out of hotel in the AM
2. Load up into a cab
3. Take cab to Enterprise location
4. Load up rental car
5. Do interview
6. Drive back, return rental car
7. Take cab to Union Station
8. Get on train back to Springfield

The plan seemed good enough. I mean what could go wrong/? I could never, EVER imagine what happened next.

So steps 1-3 went ok enough – save that there was something going on near the hotel that had like 235723 tour and school buses everywhere. IT took like 20 mins to go 8 blocks.

Finally, we get to Enterprise (on Lake St.) – we pull up front, and unload the cab. We tip the cab driver for not killing us on the way there.

I go inside and proceed to get the paperwork going for my rental. There are about 5 employees in the location, and I notice that the young agent is looking out the front window and talking to another employee. There’s a truck/van thing with flashing lights in front of the location.

Young agent sarcastically to to lady agent: “Well, that’s gonna be good for business.”

Both agents walk away and go out into the garage.

Perky brunette agent is still getting my car info ready – checking my license, etc.

I see the two agents looking around through the garage exit at the street/front of the store. They pace a bit, talk and then come back into the store where they then get another guy and are talking, behind the counter.

Lady agent “Well, someone’s going to have to say something…”
Young agent “I guess I can, what should I say?”
Lady agent “Just ask [something something] move. [something something] few minutes, [something something] police.”

It's at this point that I realize they are talking about B and our bags. They thought she was a homeless person out there with a set of luggage and nice bags - just stopping to live on their sidewalk.

See, after we got out of the cab, I asked B to wait outside with our bags (they were heavy to carry) until I get the car and then we’ll load it up. It was a nice, cool morning, and when I got the car, we have to drive out of the garage. Seems logical to just wait there.

Perky Brunette agent hands my paperwork to me, asks me to sign. And then asks if I need anything else. And I say…

“I hope you’re not going to go out there and say something incredibly stupid to my friend who’s waiting with my bags.”

You could have heard a pin drop.

Seriously, crickets.

Perky Brunette – who was truly oblivious to what was going on - said to the other agents “You didn’t say anything to that lady did you?”

To which I reply –“No, but *I* heard everything they were saying about her.”

So then Young Agent and other guy agent start stumbling to apologize. Saying things like “Why didn’t you guys come in, it’s air conditioned in here?” etc. Ridiculous.

Guy agent then says – why don’t I go and help her put your things in the car? Good idea, shitchowder.

After we’re done with the car, we returned it and they asked how my experience was. I told them all was great except thinking my best friend was a homeless person. They apparently heard all about it, apologized again. The guy behind the counter actually says to me “Well those things happen.” What? Huh? Other girl at the location says “No, it doesn’t, and it’s been dealt with.”

Dealt with… hummm.

the homeless curse

Becky and I recently took a trip to Chicago. We had a number of "experiences" and I want to make sure I document these, for posterity.

The lead up: B & I did some shopping on State St. I got a fabulous pair of brown linen pants (which I still have not worn) and a couple e of t-shirts from Avenue.

On the way back to our hotel, we stopped at McDonald's for a refreshing beverage and a thing of hot fries with 0 trans fat. We were kicking back for a bit, people watching, when a kid came in, probably 12 or so - with some flyers. He was asking for money for the local youth center's programs [read: drug money for his daddy]... and so B & I dug out all the change we had and gave it to the kid. I think it was like $4 worth.

Quasi-fast-forward 5 minutes. We're on the way out of McD's, and a homeless guy comes in. He stops to ask us to spare him some change [read: enough for his next fix], and I smile and say - we just gave our last bit of cash to that kid. I point to the kid as he's sitting in the McD's counting the change we gave him [read: waiting for us to leave so he can buy hisself some foods] and I laugh.

I laugh because it's funny that one bum missed out because someone else got to us first.

We proceed to leave the McD's, going through the first set of doors - leaving just one to freedom and I comment to B that as a comic I found that whole thing hilarious. I muse that I wonder if Bum Fights started because one bum was like 30 seconds later on asking for the money than the first bum.

Unbeknownst to me, homeless guy is behind us, also leaving McD's. He then shouts at me for laughing! And then he says -

"You could end up just like me and then you wouldn't be laughing."

And then - then he says:

"I hope your house burns down!"

Seriously, the bum cursed me. I was cursed by a bum.

A number of witty retorts came to mind... including:
"I have good insurance"
"I don't own a home"
And my hindsight favorite:
"If I were you, I'd use your powers to better your own situation."

But all that came out of my mouth at that times was “Oh fuck you, I was laughing about the situation not the fact that you are homeless."

So yes, we were cursed by a bum.

the big three-ohhhh

In less than a month I will turn 30. Three-zero. "Flirty-Thirty". I think this is where I emotional breakdown , right? I mean this is the point in my life where I realize I'm not "young" anymore. I'm just as far from 40 as I am from 20.

Yikes.

Ok, so it's not the end of the world, turning 30, but it sure makes you look at your life in a different way - at least *ME* looking at *MY* life in a different way.

I used to think 30 was old. Now, I think - I'm pretty cool for 30. I'm pretty cool, in general, but for 30 - I'm cool.

But I'm going to be thurrrrr-teeeee. And, honestly, in general, I'm unhappy.

Shouldn't I have found the key to happiness by now? Shouldn't I know what I want out of life? But I'm just as confused now as I was at 18 or 21 or 26.... maybe even moreso now - almost 30.

I don't have kids - that's the biggest thing nagging me, really. My mom had me when she was 16, so you can imagine how my mind spins when I think about being a mother for the first time when I'm over 30. But I can't have kids... and I was pretty ok with it up until now. But now the reality just makes me really sad. Really very sad.

And what the hell is wrong with me that I can't find a job that I like? Actually, I think I had that job about 3 years ago, but I fucked it up. I just can't seem to find somewhere to fit in - career-wise. Maybe the missing pieces is not having my degree - but come on - 30+ years old and just getting my bachelors? It seems like a waste of time and money at this point. And if I can't hold a job or find somewhere to fit, what good's a degree? Frankly, career-wise, I am feeling pretty miserable. But the thought of changing jobs *AGAIN* is just not realistic. Maybe I really don't have anything to offer to an employer. Scary to think I could be jumping from job to job for the next 12+ years just like I have the last 12. And I feel helpless to fix it. I can't fix it if I don't know what's wrong. And frankly, I just don't think there's hope to fix it.

30 years old - shouldn't I finally be rewarded for working hard? Even if I hate what I'm doing and who I'm doing it with/for? Shouldn't I get SOMETHING positive out of it?

Of course, that leads to feeling financially retarded. At 30 shouldn't I have a nest-egg? I should be investing in my 401k, right? I don't even understand the paperwork (I blame that on being bad at math). How many more years will I live check-to-check? I opened a savings account - which now has a whopping $400 in it. My credit score is half of my monthly car payments... and I feel helpless to fix it. I'm tired of trying and watching everything I do credit-wise.

I should have figured out relationships by now, surely! At 30, I should have a big group of close friends - but really, I find that relationships just make me feel tired. Ok - tired and inadequate. I've been pretty extroverted and outgoing all my life - but over the past few months, I've started dreading being around people. Even those I love and care about. I just want to be alone more often than not.

And my goals - I've not achieved any of them. I can't even tell you what they were 10 years ago. I just know that I haven't accomplished much. I don't even have any good stories to tell.

I guess you could look at all of this and chalk it up to being depressed or something - but when it comes right down to it - I'm 30 with nothing to show for it. I'm 30 with no accomplishments, no recognition - and worse yet, no feelings that I'm anything other than a fat girl warming an office chair, living check-to-check, with very few healthy relationships.

And a whole gaggle of apathy.

Yeah.. 30. *sigh*

Fuck.

top 12 male idle americans

(this is the product that, apparently, most of the guys used to get on the show this year)

I usually save my witty analysis for later rounds, but last night’s show, along with Sassy’s recaps have motivated me to share my thoughts.

So sit, back, take a big swig of something you can shoot out your nose, and read what I think, bitches!

A NOTE TO THE AI TECHNICAL STAFF: For five years I have watched, incessantly, the show – never missing an episode. As THE #1 show on TV, could you please hire some competent fucking sound engineers? I’m sick and tired of having to adjust my 12 point surround sound system so I can hear what is being sung, then having to readjust to what is being said. If you can’t get it right, fucking outsource to India or some shit already!

Now for the recaps:

Rudy Cardenas - A.K.A. “The Schnoz” - Free Ride
I’m glad the ride was free, because I would have wanted to get a refund – or to simply have been dumped out of the car at 60 miles an hour, while going over a large bridge. This morning I am trying very hard to find anything to say about him other than it was a good thing he was first, because I could easily forget Schnoz even performed – except for the fact that you could use his nose as a billboard. Also, can someone from Wheel of Fortune buy this fucker a consonant? I mean come on; the best even PAULA could say was that he started the season off with enthusiasm. I was very enthused by the idea of a commercial break – and that’s saying something, because I Tivo this shit!

Brandon Rogers - A.K.A “BTSU (Back That Shit Up)” - Rock With You
BTSU hits the stage and revels in mediocrity. But damn he has nice eyes – they draw me in, and, for a moment, I forget completely that this is a signing competition… but then I’m back to reality and am disappointed in Brandon’s lack of support – breath support or support for singing a song that shows off any of his talent. I really like BTSU, I think he could be one of the better contestants, but his performance was flatter than I was at 12 years old.

Sundance Head - A.K.A “Sundunce” or “Duncy” - Nights In White Satin
Ok, WTF is up with the screen behind Duncy on this one? It’s like a lake of cum… but I can’t, for the life of me, figure out where the current is coming from – much less the cum. The current can’t be coming from the song – the song was originally released in 1967 – long before any of these contestants were anywhere even near a glimmer in an eye. Three things, Duncy - #1 – please button up your shirt – there are children watching. #2 – Please stop using high school show choir arm movements – we all know you were too fat and dorky to be in show choir when you were in high school; and #3 – Don’t sing if you’re not going to SING IN TUNE!

Paul Kim - A.K.A. “BareAsian” - Careless Whisper
God, have you sent this man, this barefoot man, to redeem the Asian race’s musicality? Asians, it is too late for you - abandon all hope. BareAsian’s general breath support and performance are just… YYYAWWWWWNNN, sorry - lacking. I kinda want to like Paul, but more in a “Hey, can you help me with this math and logic problem?” way. Oh and, heh - Ryan made a comment about how he could recommend a pedicurist to BareAsian – at which point I was like – “DUH, Ryan! He’s Asian – his people do nails because they have failed at singing or being stand-up-comics.”

Chris Richardson “Boing” - I Don't Wanna Be
“Yo, *bounce* motha fucka’s *bounce* I’z comin to represent mah *bounce* white peeps!” *bounce* *bounce* *bounce* *bounce**bounce*. Boing. His mannerisms remind me so much of AI Season 3’s John Patrick Flannery O’Houllihan (Jon Peter Lewis) – who, I know you don’t remember – but thanks to americanidol.com – I got a remembrance of Lewis’ Mad-Magazine Cover Boy face. Oh, ok, back to Boing’s performance – I could barely hear what this turdburglar was singing because of the incessant bouncing up and down. I think that, at one point, Boing was flashing white gang symbols with his hands – but I couldn’t tell, because the AI medical staff had already started treating him for what they thought were seizures.

Nick Pedro A.K.A “Raul” - Now And Forever
“Oh, Raul, please save me from this life of dirt and misery! I want to leave Meh-hee-koh with you and tour the world. Your singing has healed my leprosy. We shall make veintiséis babies and our love will light the way.” Will someone cast this guy in a Mexican soap opera already? Out of all the guys this season – Raul is the weakest link. Goodbye.

Blake Lewis A.K.A. “Pbbt-Pssh-Chiggity” - Somewhere Only We Know
God I want to hate this guy. I want to punch him in the throat every time he breaks into beat-box. I want to hate him – but damn if Pbbt-Pssh-Chiggity wasn’t great last night. He had a “Sting” thing going on – and didn’t beat-box, at all. His voice even reminded me a bit of old-school singers like Sinatra or Danny Kaye. Good control and overall performance. And two-thumbs up for singing a CURRENT song and wearing a sweater vest. Pbbt-Pssh-Chiggity may just be the man-to-beat this year.

Sanjaya Malakar A.K.A. “Bollywon’t” - Knocks Me Off My Feet
I missed most of Sanjaya’s performance while I listened to the painful cries of thousands of children hearing singing for the first time – and hearing it from Bollywon’t. Holy crap. If Stevie Wonder weren’t already blind – OH SHIT – can someone call Stevie and make sure he can still hear? Sadly, Sanjaya, your life may be meant for something less “vocal” like fixing my damn computer.

Chris Sligh A.K.A “PSFawg (Pretty Sligh for a White Guy)”
I don’t even remember what PSFawg sang, but I love love love this guy’s attitude, his tie and untucked shirt and his huge Whiteman ‘fro. While not the best singer in the show, he’s certainly the most entertaining. PSFawg Kinda like Season 4’s Mikalah Gordon – without the moving mole, the annoying voice and completely over-the-top attitude. Ok, so not at all like Gordon. Chirs will make it to the top 12 if for no other reason than the show needs some judge vs. contestant snarkiness. Last season was missing that, completely – it was like “The Stepford Singers”. Fuck that; bring on PSFawg – in the style of ilDivo or Teletubbies, even!

Jared Cotter A.K.A “Gay”
I forgot what Gay sang, but he has to be the biggest-eye browed contestant, ever. And oh-so-gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that). I like how they butched him up for last night’s show, though. I was almost distracted by it enough to not notice that there’s a reason none of us have seen him perform yet this season… HE SUCKS. Talk about someone who is boring and unmarketable. Put Gay, Raul and Bollywon’t in a mime troupe and you’ll have an instant Benetton commercial – and the world will be a much more aurally wonderful place.

AJ Tabaldo A.K.A. “Blue Collar” - Never Too Much
Ok, first, you are no longer in High School (at least at the age of 22 you shouldn’t be)… so put your damn collar down. By wearing your collar up you are standing for everything I hate in life. On top of that, every note you sang out of tune rolled around your squatty neck and right back toward the microphone – causing my ears to bleed. Yes, that’s right Blue Collar, you have earned my disfavor. So put your collar down next week, mmmkay – if there IS a next week for you!

Phil Stacy A.K.A. “Baby Daddah” - I Could Not Ask For More
Remember 6^th grade gym class? There was one slightly retarded kid who’d start the 50 yard dash just before the teacher would yell “Go!” and everyone would have to start over? Yeah, now you know what happened to him – he made it onto American Idol. But it’s interesting to note that once that retard got off the line, he was the best runner in the class! Baby Daddah was, by far, the best singer of the night. Now, if someone would just give him some concealer for his jacked-up-eyeholes.

they like me, they really like me...

Last night's open mic went on as planned, even though it was one day after "BLEEEEZZZAAARDDDD '07". BreakTime remains the toughest room I've ever been in, but 4 comics showed up, ponied up their $5 and I took them all down!

Yes, I won. I am a winner.

BWAHHAHAHAHHA. I promptly spent my $20 on yarn. I've started to knit. 2 months from my 30th, I'm knitting.

It's too late for me - save yourself.

blogger's block

Ok, so most of you aren't anything like me (you are just posting maniacs) - but I've had blogger's block. It's not for a lack of things to write about... it's more for, well - I don't know - apathy?

I wonder if anyone even reads this anymore...

For those of you who do, here's some tidbits for you:

• I'm starting an open mic in Springfield with the help of some of my comic friends here. We're aiming for a start early in April - originally planned for March, we didn't want to have to compete with March Madness.

• As hard as Christmas was - being the first Christmas since Marla's untimely passing just after New Year 06, it was pretty good. I spent time with S&B, who made me feel just like family. I made new memories - not that overwrote the old ones, but that can fit in my memory right beside them.

• [gets on soapbox] I still hate the IRS. Another year where I did pretty well for myself, and another year where I am penalized for it. If you're at all aggrivated ever year by the tax system and how it punishes hard working people who are trying to get ahead - please get behind the Fair Tax movement. [off of soapbox]

• Obamacon 2007 came and went from Springfield. Obamacon - where thousands of Oval-Office-hungry folks flocked to Springfield to see Barak Obama announce his candidacy. Some of them were dressed as nice looking African American men who spoke well... ok, that was a joke - I'm not racist, geez! I tried very hard to understand why this was so significant - and I can't. There's no historical significance to B-O's announcement whatsoever. Other African-Americans have run for president before... it's not like it's never happened. And just because "He's actually got a shot" doesn't make it any more significant than me announcing that I want to go by the name of "Shoobacca" (which, I don't). Meh, by 2pm, Springfield was just about back to its regular self - what with all the homeless huddling at the library and whatnot. The only remnant was the annoying nature of the satellite trucks on 6th street.

• I got some good news from the doc today. My A1C is down to 7.4 - which is pretty good, for me - being that my diabetes has been out of control since I was diagnosed in 1999. I'm also excited because my new doc seems to be pretty proactive on things - and didn't make me feel like a total cow and explained that no matter what the diet, it's nearly impossible to lose weight on insulin. My next appt is March 5th, where I'll take up the topic of Gastric Bypass with him.

• No update yet on the car situation. I'm expecting to talk to the dealer again tomorrow to see if I can get the Camry I'm looking at down about $1k more. It's low mileage and in good shape, but it's the 01 old body style, thus reducing the loan value. On top of that, a recent development has led me to have no down payment - so I'm hoping I can get financed without losing my left ovary (which would be fine, being that I'm barren).

Heading home, friends - talk to you again soon - when I'm outta this funk.

this week has been a hell of a year...

It's been a week...

Tuesday I got in a very minor wreck. I rear-ended someone after she stopped quickly to avoid hitting someone in front of her (within inches), and I hit her Dodge Durango with my Dodge Stratus (oh, and not so ironically, neither of them "dodge" well, at all) - the front end of my car going up under her truck - a truck with a big heavy duty tow kit. I was going less than 10mph and my airbag didn't deploy.

Her truck was fine at the scene, but now she's claiming damage ($600). On top of that, she said she was fine, but now there have been doctor visits and chiropractor visits.... whiplash.

Whatever. Liar.

On top of everything, a stupid mistake/miscommunication on my part has led to me not having coverage on the Stratus at the time of the accident. It wouldn't have mattered to my car, as I only had liability on it. But now I'm worried about what will happen with her "lies" - I mean "claims" to her insurance company.

I only got a $75 ticket for the wreck, though.

Anyhow, the outcome on my end - my car is totalled - $5800.00 in repairs.

I'm immobile.

remember...

A year ago, today, my best friend, Marla passed away. Her last words were fitting - "Love you!" I remember kissing her cheek and watching her fall asleep. 8 hours later she was gone.

I miss her more than I thought I would. I miss things about her that used to drive me crazy - like how she would talk and talk and talk while watching TV...

Now I wish she were on my couch talking while I watch TV.

I miss you, Marla.