Monday in the park with Cosmo

Memorial Day weekend was great. I spent Friday night working on a poster I was paid to design for a comedy festival. It took the whole night because my computer is not in good health these days. She has lived a good life. She was the hot thing of 2002. Remember those cheap Dell’s that were all the rage in 2002? I’m surprised she has lasted as long as it has. I grew up in the ‘90s when computers were not too common in homes. I remember in college when email was something new and unusual and you’d have to sign legal documents and get fingerprinted at the computer lab to use it. This was/is my first home computer. Jeremy and I saved up and bought it when we lived in a tiny, musty studio our second year in New York with our hard earned pennies made from our first real entry level post college jobs. Why I am trying to romanticize this? Truth is, I really don’t want my computer to die but only because I am cheap. I’d rather spend my money on the important things like seasonal accents to go on the credenza. Okay, I don’t have a credenza. But I used to! And there was a time when a seasonal accent on the credenza was very important to me. In my early/mid twenties I was going on age 35. I thought that was what I was supposed to do. I grew up before I had a chance to grow up. Now I’m without a credenza and running in the opposite direction. I think over time I will meet myself in the middle and finally be on schedule. One day I’ll have a credenza again but never again with the seasonal accents. That was too far, even for me.

Got up early Saturday to feed cats for a friend who is out of town. Cats are strange creatures that I think are capable of anything, like homicide, and I never know what I am going to find on the other side of the door. I make it a point to tell someone exactly when and where I am going to feed them in case I don’t come back. After the cats I did laundry. All of these things were done before 10 AM which is a record for me. I had day plans that afternoon followed by the early show at Comic Strip. I feared that if I waited to feed the cats after my show I would wind up another statistic.

I love the Comic Strip. It’s one of the last great surviving relics from the comedy boom of the 1980’s. I’d love to have my headshot on the wall there someday. But most days it seems discovering a cure for cancer would be easier to accomplish. I had been craving margaritas all day. I had been in the sun and it just seemed appropriate. Danny the bartender saw me and did that thing that most bartenders who know me at places where I perform do. They start to make a drink then they suddenly freeze mid-motion and ask “are you drinking today?” I have a habit of making major announcements worthy of a press conference that I have ceased all drinking until further notice. Further notice is usually the next time you see me. I told Danny, “Yessir… I am drinking!” And I might have said that in conjunction with an awkward salute. I didn’t order a margarita. Intuition told me they would use too much sweet and sour mix so instead I asked him for “a nice Corona.” As opposed to a mean one. I was chatting with my dear friend Becky Donohue backstage. She is one of my faves and definitely one of the best of the bunch. She’s been at it professionally for over a decade. Becky will also be the first to remind you of this on a regular basis. And she’s got the goods to back it up. A waiter came backstage and acted as though he’d just seen a ghost when he saw Becky. He told us that he was just in the bathroom where the show is audio broadcasted (for those that have to go, but don’t want to miss the show) and was listening in and could have sworn that Becky was on stage right now! Becky and I immediately turned our heads in unison toward the monitor to see who he was confusing her with. It was a brand new comic up there. And she was funny. But comedians are like wine. They better as they age. And Becky is a vintage shiraz. We were in the eye of the hurricane. I really wanted to say, “what was that waiter? I couldn’t hear you, Repeat it what you just said!” but instead I pretended that I had something very important to write down. Becky answered him graciously and said “nope, I’m right here. But you’re right… she is killing.” The waiter left Becky and I in the room alone. There was a sharp pause. I turned to her with a blank expression trying to portray temporary amnesia. Becky took a deep inhale and lowered her eyes at me and said in a quiet, intense tone “…you loved that didn’t you.” I told her yes I sure as hell did and then re-enacted the scene in my head asking the waiter to repeat himself. She called me an asshole and we laughed hysterically. Becky is a good one to share a good laugh from the gut with.

After the show Becky and I went to an outdoor café down the street. I had two glasses of pinot grigio. She had two glasses of cab sauv. She had a caprese salad. I was on a diet. We had great conversation as always and we didn’t spend a lot of money as we tend to do when we get together and talk and drink and talk and drink. She had another spot across town and I had dinner plans with Jeremy. I took a bus to go crosstown from the Upper East Side to the Upper West Side. As soon as I got on the bus and took a seat the world started spinning just ever so slightly. I had only had two glasses of pinot with Bex and the three nice coronas at Comic Strip. I decided that the sun might have dehydrated me that day. I could have stuck it out if I concentrated hard enough but I had a feeling I might look slightly crazy with one hand over my eye. I got off of the bus at the next stop. Which was exactly a block away from where I got on. The world stopped spinning immediately so I hopped in a cab to meet Jeremy. He told me all about the new play he had been cast in. I told him about everything in my world except for the part where my world was actually spinning a few moments ago on the bus. That would have resulted in a lecture about taking better care of myself and not spreading myself too thin and blah blah.

The train ride home to Astoria was surprisingly quick. I was looking forward to a good night’s sleep. Instead I tossed and turned making mental lists of outstanding items. I don’t understand why my head won’t shut up when its time for sleep but goes completely MIA when its time to open my mouth. Things would be so much better if it were the other way around.

Got started on my list Sunday morning very early. Cats and iced coffee were first to be crossed off. But a nap, bad television, and a frantic phone call from my mother delayed the rest of the list. My mother has a lot going on as I do and our schedules are surprisingly similar. It’s not abnormal for us to have a week lapse in phone calls. And when my mother realizes its been a week she immediately assumes I am an unlabeled patient in a coma caused by a mugging/plane crash into building/swine flu/Puerto Rican day parade/central park raping. Later that night, I noticed a new business had spontaneously appeared right beneath my bedroom window off of the sidewalk. It was an airbrush tattoo parlor. “Look up zoning laws” was promptly added to my list.

I woke up early again on Monday. This time to loud music and not a mandatory company meeting in my head. I looked out my window to find that an entire street fair had sprouted up around the new airbrush tattoo parlor. I’ve never been relieved to see a street fair in New York until then. This meant that the airbrush tattoo parlor beneath my window would be gone in a matter of hours. And zoning laws could go off my list.

I have not seen my shit-zu Cosmo for a few days and I have been missing the small things. Like the clacking of his toe-nails on the wood floor. Cosmo has always been meticulously groomed on a regular basis and his nails are never too long. But Cosmo somehow knows how to make them clack on the floor and he only does this when he wants to make a point. I miss him telling me that I have to give him a treat right now. I miss him making me get off the couch and sit on the floor. I miss him refusing to let me take a nap or work on the computer or even talk too loudly on the phone. Cosmo has always been very bossy with me and I secretly love it. I know I shouldn’t. But I do. I love that he has such a strong personality. I let him be in charge because it makes him happy. I’m the “nice parent.” Jeremy is the disciplinarian. Jeremy gives just one treat/day only after Cosmo has been a good boy. I will give Cosmo a treat when he barks at me, smiles at me, and lies to me.

Cosmo lives full time with Jeremy since he doesn’t have the late night and unpredictable comedy hours that I do. And also because I have a roommate and Cosmo has bitten a couple of people over the years. He’s a rescue.

I will not be an absent parent because he’s my baby and I also don’t want him growing up to be a juvenile delinquent because of resentment. I’ll always be the fun parent who lets him stay up late and eat ice cream and encourages him to drop out of college to pursue painting if that’s what makes him happy. That’s my job.

So yesterday I surprised Cosmo with a visit and he and I went to Riverside Park. I let him decide the exact routes to take, even when they were completely screwy and off path. We chased squirrels and barked at them up trees. At times we ran at a jogging pace and at times we were barely moving and smelling every surface along the way. We stopped on the sidewalk for extended amounts of time to quietly growl and monitor suspicious activity with one paw suspended in the air. We Barked at busses passing by. And avoided the sunny side of the street at all costs. Because sun on cement is completely scary to Cosmo. I’m sure he has a valid reason behind this so I follow suit. Cosmo had four treats for no other reason than being the best dog in the world and I’m so glad he is mine.

Talk to you soon!

31 and counting...

Met my dear friend and fellow comedian Susan Alexander for happy hour on Friday. She was taking me out for my birthday. I was supposed to meet her at Morton's at 5:30. I arrived at 5:32. Susan likes starchy business hangouts with dark leather and mahogany wood. I think she'd like to marry a suit. Susan chastised me for being two minutes late. I consider myself to be a very punctual person, to me two minutes either way is on time. Not to Susan. But she knows me and was prepared for my "tardiness" and had a glass of pinot grigio waiting for me and appetizers. There are two types of people in life: drivers and passengers. I am a driver. Susan is a driver. However when I am with Susan I am comfortable being her passenger. It's relaxing and freeing because I trust that she will not crash. She takes care of all the details and never lets even my water glass get anywhere close to empty. Corrects my posture. And orders my meat medium rare when I ask for medium. It's nice.

Susan brought along her best gal pal Suzanne. I've met Suzanne twice with Susan at various comedy shows. I've always been drawn to her. I love strong women. They are BFF's from college. Suzanne is a big real estate power success woman. The kind that gets all the good lines in the boardroom on primetime dramas. I'd love to see her in her natural environment sometime. I bet she's a tiger. She's also a Republican and married to a senator. I really wanted to hear Suzanne talk about her viewpoints on various issues, just to know what makes her tick. I'm smitten. Susan would not let us talk about politics and was kicking me under the table. So we started talking about dating.

Susan is one of my best friends. She loves hearing all of the dirty details of my sexploits and I do tell her everything. There's a genuine, from-the-soul smile that lights up her face when she calls me a "whore." She loves to celebrate sex. She always toasts me after she calls me a whore which. I would calculate that we toast every 5 minutes to "you whore! *cheers* I love it! *cheers* Such a whore! *cheers* dirty whore!"...Truth is I am really not. I don't think anyway. And I wasn't feeling like a whore that day. Susan was disgusted by this and called me a girl. She said she wanted her man friend back. The whore one that wears crotchy jeans and has chest hair and is confident. Suzanne agreed. Non-whore talk was not becoming of me apparently. Suzanne told me I need to live my life more. Maybe they're right. Maybe I should get involved in a naked makeout later.

Susan picked up the birthday tab and we put Suzanne in a car. She was leaving the city for the weekend. Susan and I had a Mr. Frosty and walked over from Midtown East to Midtown West to Ars Nova to see Mel & El's new show. Mel & El are dear friends of mine and they got a great development deal and run at one of the top Off Broadway venues in town. We were a bit early for the show so we ducked into a nearby watering hole called 'disiac. It had a great outdoor patio. There wasn't room so we sat at the bar where we noticed amazing looking frozen concoctions. We tried the frozen raspberry cosmo. I took a photo of them and uploaded to facebook. Susan loves "press." We then tried the frozen margaritas. Bingo. We felt them at first sip. Susan commented loudly for the whole bar to hear that we were drinking "Natalie Holloways!" - which got a huge laugh from everyone. And a few hisses. She then all but made me sign a non-disclosure agreement in blood acknowledging that drinking "Natalie Holloways" is her intellectual property and that I would not take that joke from her and use it onstage. I would never. But Susan is a fierce comedy business woman. She's told club owners she would "cut them like a cancer if they fucked with her money!" You need people like Susan in your life. This is why I let her drive.

At Mel & El we saw Ben Lerman and Jessica Delfino. They sat behind us and were dressed in nautical attire. Mel & El were incredible and received a well deserved standing ovation. I gave them hugs after. It's really exciting when your friends are doing something incredible. Go see them.

Susan and I stumbled back into 'disiac for more "Natalie Holloways" (courtesy: Susan Alexander). This time we got the patio. When I found myself on a first name basis with our waitress "Anabel" and involved in a deep conversation "en espanol" I knew I was toast. This happens when I drink tequila past a certain point. I get bilingual. And I am not bilingual. It must be my latin identity issues.

Susan and I split ways. We were drunk and dangerous. I got on the train back to Ass-toria. When I came up from underground I had two missed calls from Susan. And three texts. All of them said something along the lines of "such a slut" - "you whore" - "dangerous!" I had another text from a boy inviting me for a nightcap. Who has a nightcap these days? Maybe this would be my naked makeout. I remembered Jodi Wasserman lived in the area. I texted her. She told me to meet her at the diner. Then the potential naked makeout texted me his address. Then Jodi texted me the address to the diner. What do do. How do I want to comfort myself? With a naked makeout or with food and Jodi? Hmmmm. I asked God to make the decision for me.

The next day fellow comedian Jenny Rubin came over to my apartment. We were to co-host the red carpet for the Miss Fag Hag pageant (a benefit for The Hetrick Martin Institute) at Comix the next day. Jenny is hilarious and Jenny is a mess. She was two hours late because she dropped needle and thread on the floor of her apartment and couldn't find it and was worried her animals would die. I met her at the subway station and waited for her to come down the stairs. I felt like I was a housewife at the airport waiting for my husband to come back from Iraq. I love Jenny and I hadn't seen her in a long time. It was a great reunion. We fell into step immediately. We ordered Mexican takeout and got to work on googling the red carpet luminaries that we'd be interviewing. One of the show's producers, Shawn Hollenbach, who is also a great comedian, called to check in on us. We spoke to him on speakerphone from my blackberry. It felt like Charlie's Angels. Shawn sounded high strung and nervous. This was a big event and he was in the eye of the storm. Jenny seemed to calm him down. She has that affect. if I were to pick someone to be deserted on an island with it might be Jenny Rubin. She can really make me laugh and I don't think we run out of things to say to each other.

I was running late the next day and spent $100 on cabs to and from Ass-toria back and forth getting dry cleaning picked up and getting ready for the red carpet. I was fifteen minutes late due to traffic but still early. I had the best time with Jenny on the carpet. We talked to Broadway stars, models, TV and film stars, drag queens. So much fun. I fell in love with Jon Wolfe Nelson from "The L Word" on the carpet. Gentle, sweet, kind and stunning.

My ex-boyfriend / best friend Jeremy was on hand taking red carpet photos for Jenny and I. Many people don't know how to react when they see us together post-breakup. They can't comprehend that we could still be friends and that there were never dishes thrown. But we're the best of friends and always will be. Jeremy, Jenny and I took at seat in Comix to watch the show. Leah stopped by our booth and we shared an awkward open mouthed kiss. It was full of subtext. I didn't try to figure out the subtext. My inner Meryl Streep was off duty for the evening. The show was about to start. All I can say is wow. I can't remember the last time I had that much fun in the audience of a show! It was electric. I didn't want it to end. It was such a spectacular event and I was so proud of Shawn, Paul Case and Adolpho Blaire who conceived, organized, and produced this amazing evening from scratch. Not an easy feat and this was one of the best things I have ever seen in New York. Ever. I can't wait until next year.

I threw my red carpet suit onto the floor of my apartment and faceplanted into bed. I woke up at 1 AM with a text from a friend/fellow comic Sara. She said she had just broken up with her boyfriend and had moved out and needed help assembling IKEA furniture. I immediately sobered and texted her back to make sure she was okay. She was. I was prepared to jump into a cab to help her with whatever she needed, like an on-call wet nurse. Or something like that.

Monday I woke up thirty-onederful. I didn't want to get out of bed. My blackberry was buzzing with a steady stream of facebook updates from birthday well-wishers. It's nice to feel loved every five minutes on your birthday. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad day. I was in a funk. I didn't want to drink my face off and celebrate. I turned down drinks and this and that. I decided to meet Jeremy at his place, my old apartment, to pick up the camera so I could download the red carpet photos. I wanted to have a very oprah birthday this year. I wanted to be at home, in my room, writing out life plans and goals. Perhaps write some new material and blog and update my god-awful website that needs an overhaul. I'm out drinking pretty much most nights of the year. It comes with doing comedy. I wanted to do be alone in my own space and get some work done on my birthday. Jeremy surprised me with cake. He and my shih-tzu Cosmo sang happy birthday to me. We went for a drink down the street. I felt sad about us. It sneaks up on me sometimes and I didn't want to cry so I started an argument. I went to my friend Mara Herron's after. She's an amazing comedian and a new friend. It wouldn't be an oprah birthday after all. Mara bought me a dozen yellow roses for friendship. And had a bottle of white wine and hummus and cheese and grapes and it was yummy. We sat on her fire escape and drank the bottle and smoked cigarettes and I probably talked to much. We talked about weekend plans and I told her I was helping my friend Sara assemble IKEA furniture. Mara said "you don't have to go - that was a mass text - everyone got it." I felt like a douche. Here I thought I was the only one who got that text because she needed ME. And I was willing to hop into a cab at 1 AM to clean up the mess. Mara dropped her glass of wine and thankfully it didn't kill someone five stories below us. We hope. It was getting late so I headed back to Ass-toria. Jeremy sent me a text-pic of Cosmo. That's our way of saying sorry we got in a fight.

Tuesday my pal Kambri took me out for a birthday drink. We were supposed to have "just one." We never have "just one." And its because we always have the best time. I once thought that I was the definition of burning the candle at both ends - until I met Kambri. She is a very busy woman who literally works 24/7 so our get togethers are rare and time always flies by way too quickly. We laugh, share and laugh. I had sent Kambri my last blog entry on Jodi Wasserman a few days ago and told her to read it "when she had to take a long number two." As soon as I sat at our table she informed me that women never take a long number two. That that is a guy thing and women are in and out. We then moved on to discussing the tits that I had written about seeing on Jodi Wasserman. It was suddenly time for American Idol. Kambri is addicted to that show so we promptly left the quaint wine bar and bought a bottle of white from the nearby package store and picked up shrimp pad thai on the way to my apartment where we would watch the season finale. In the whirlwind of everything I had forgotten that my roommate and fellow comedian (and daughter!) Wendy Jo is gone for the whole summer on tour. She subletted her room to a sweet girl from Texas by way of China who I don't think speaks English. We haven't had enough dialogue for me to figure that one out. Kambri (who is a tall drink of blonde water at 6 feet tall) and I busted in on my poor foreigner roommate (who is all but 4 inches tall) and her "cousin" (who I suspected and then later Kambri also suspected, is not really her "cousin." Unless "cousin" is mandarin for fuckbuddy) Kambri and I didn't want to invade so we retreated to my room where we sat at the edge of the bed and ate shrimp pad thai, drank the $7 jumbo-bottle of pinot grigio over my ironing board / table and watched American Idol. Kambri loved me and Wendy/Soon Yi's apartment and thought it would be perfect for she and her husband.

When the coast was clear we went back to the living room where we finished off the wine and watched parts of "Glee" and "Real Housewives of NJ." We weren't really paying attention and were in a spirited debate about naked makeouts. Kambri is of the school of thought that a naked makeout is really sex. Jury is out. I walked Kambri back to her apartment because I was convinced she needed my protection on the streets of Ass-toria at 10 PM.

So there you have it. That's my birthday re-cap.

One Night in Jodi

Yesterday was an average day and night for me.

My beautiful and wonderful friend Wendy Jo came to me with great news that she had a second call back for a series guest role on a major cable network. I had my own great news. I had received a call from my doctor's office and was informed I do not have any STD's. That's right. Clean as a whistle. Not that I was too worried, but I did start a rough draft of my will. I offered to take the doctor's assistant out for drinks to celebrate but she declined.

My dear friend Karith updated her facebook status and it caught my eye. It had been forever since I had seen my Karith. She co-hosts a very high-profile national radio show. We haven't had much time to spend together since her hours are now pretty much the dead opposite of mine. I miss her. So I asked her if she'd stay up late to do my show at Eastville. I had time on the lineup and I was honestly craving her much like I do a cigarette twenty times a day. (That's a pack a day.)

My buddy Danny Siegel hosted the show last night. I love Danny. He is very funny. He is very universal. He is very good looking. He is very straight. And kind of a pig but I appreciate that in him. We can relate. My friend Jodi Wasserman, who I think in time will become one of my fave gal pals, we're new to each other, headlined. She's mildly insane.

Karith was her usual radiant vibrant self. Beautiful spirit. Was so good to see her onstage again. She had to leave after her set to go to bed. I walked her out and didn't want to see her go. I wanted to cling to her like the Titanic. It wasn't enough time. We made tentative and well-intentioned plans for sangria and/or pinkberry but you know how those plans go. You get busy, or you get a gig or it rains or you oversleep. But she is a life friend for sure.

I got to stretch out onstage. Re-worked some oldies, worked out some newbies. Leah had a great set, she's been focusing on flexing her performance muscles and it shows. Everyone had a great set. No one clunked. I told Jodi to get there by 9:00. She came in and sat at the bar until it was her time.

Jodi went on and I had my first opportunity to step outside for a smoke. I found Leah waiting outside of the club. I told her I don't have AIDS. She high-fived me and told me she was dating a girl who worked for AIDS Walk. This was news to me but Leah and I have not connected in awhile. I was thrilled for her. She told me they met on Saturday. Last night was Wednesday. That is a four day timespan. Which is a completely reasonable timeline for the Lesbian race.

Jodi, who has a million TV credits killed. No surprise. That's why she was booked. After the show and after the goodbyes and thank you for comings, Garry (another comic who also did well) and Leah invited Jodi and I out with them to Nowhere Bar. I wanted to go, I wanted to drink more, I wanted to laugh at silly things and take drunken photos to tag on facebook the next morning, but I could see a flash of wild in Jodi's eye. I suddenly felt like Jodi's chaperone and felt that she needed me. So I told Garry and Leah we'd meet up with them in a bit. I was right about what I saw in Jodi's eye. I've got a good gut about things that rarely will let me down. Jodi indeed had another agenda.

Jodi likes to smoke pot as much as I like to drink. Jodi was out of pot last night and remembered a conversation we had over six months ago that I had some pot in my freezer. I guess I wouldn't forget if someone told me they had a pallet of Marlboro Lights in their attic. The pot in my freezer was a housewarming gift for my ex-boyfriend and I three apartments and six years ago. And the housewarming gift has since traveled from apartment to apartment to apartment, each time taking its rightful place in the freezer under the ice-cube tray that is always filled up when we would move in and never emptied until we moved out. Since my boyfriend and I are no longer (no worries we're still the very best of friends - family. We talk 3X/day and share everything.) I have moved out but the housewarming gift did not. At this point, that housewarming gift probably tastes like Gorton's fish sticks. Jodi didn't care. She was ready for it - freezer burned and all.

I put myself in Jodi's shoes. What if I couldn't buy cigarettes? What if I was back in New Mexico and couldn't buy a drink on a Sunday? I still have keys to my old apartment and my ex-boyfriend wouldn't care if I regifted our housewarming present from three apartments ago. But it was getting late and I didn't want to travel all the way from the East Village to the Upper Upper West Side. Jodi would have to seek another form of comfort. So we decided to go eat.

We decided a diner would be the best option. Jodi wanted to go to a diner in Astoria. We both live in Astoria so that sounded like a good plan. She then had the great idea to stop and get a Mr. Softee ice cream to enjoy on the subway trek to Queens. Even better. Then I learned the diner in Astoria was on the Astoria Blvd stop. Two stops beyond my stop. Which meant that I would have to get back on the train after the diner. And she would just be able to walk home without another subway ride. Very manipulative she is. So I put my foot down and said no. We would have to find a diner in the East Village and then we'd take the train home to Astoria and get off at our own stops. She agreed. But only on the condition that we could get Mr. Softee after the diner for the subway ride home to Queens. Agreed.

I held the door open for Jodi. She likes to be treated like a lady. And I like that she likes to be a lady. She's always in heels and in full hair and makeup. I ordered a grilled cheese on wheat, she ordered eggs. When she got the eggs she complained that they didn't bring soup. I told her she did not order soup. She argued that she did. Lack of pot was making Jodi hallucinate things. I can relate. I slur when I don't drink. She agreed that Danny Siegel is hot. I texted him and asked him if he had any pot for Jodi. He did not. But told us to go to see the doorman at the Bowery Hotel. Jodi considered. And I would have gone with her to protect her. But she felt it was too much work. (But traveling an hour and a half each way to the Upper Upper West side was not.) She then told me she wanted to quit comedy but then suggested we plan a national tour. She noticed Leah had a new girl. Women pick up on those things. She told me pets do not stink, humans do. And that its okay to ask your Mother for money. And that you have to constantly hustle in this business. And to stop wasting time on guys who aren't into you. And where is her soup?

We paid our bill and left. Jodi did not forget our agreement on Mr. Softee. But Mr. Softee had driven away. She had switched her focus from pot to soft serve. We saw golden arches a few blocks ahead of us. But McDonald's was closed. Then we found a Ben and Jerry's. It was hoppin' after midnight. We got our ice-cream and walked silently to the subway back to Astoria. We finished before the N train came. So we started talking again. She was showing off her new i-phone. She killed the other night at a comedy club and a fan bought it for her. I didn't ask.

We were comparing my blackberry versus her i-phone when suddenly we both pulled our phones away from each other in the same knee-jerk fashion. We gave each other knowing glances. I knew the she had / and she knew that I had, nude photos of ourselves in our phones. She offered to show me her tits. Via i-phone. Now, Jodi is an attractive gal. But I didn't want to see her tits. Maybe after a night of tequila, or if we were at Mardi Gras and prizes were involved I would be game. I declined. I turned away. Then turned back to her and found her tits in my face via i-Phone. They were nice. I was surprised. Not that Jodi could have nice tits, but I've been let down before in pretty girls. The most attractive girl can reveal themselves to be something out of National Geographic. Jodi had perfect tits and she was proud of them. I was proud for her. I felt obligated and kind of wanted to show her photos of myself. But I resisted the urge. Again. No tequila was consumed this evening. Maybe next time.

The N Train arrived. She charged through the doors and knocked a couple of guys out of the way so that we could share a bench. We decided to take a photo shoot together with her i-phone to pass the time. The photos were terrible. With the fluorescent lighting and the high-def settings on her i-phone, one photo after another was promptly deleted. One was decent. I agreed we'd spare it from the trash. It would be a memento of our time together. She'd tag me on facebook the next day.

I got off on the Broadway stop. Jodi would get off two stops later. Near the originally proposed diner. It was not a crazy wild evening. Nothing eventful really happened but it did. Jodi is an amazing woman and an amazing artist. We'll probably do a show again together in the very near future and we may or may not hang out after. That's the way it goes in this crazy world. But I am grateful for last night.

Graciela

It's the day after Mother's Day. I wanted to write something yesterday, on Mother's Day but internet connectivity problems prevented me from doing so. Something my Mother is not capable of helping me out with.

My mother, like most mother's is not very technical. But I think my mother takes the prize in that arena. I remember we had an answering machine. Remember those? And she could not record or change the outgoing message without help from my sister and I. We took full advantage of my mother's technical shortcomings. One time my sister Anna Marie and I took the answering machine hostage and recorded a cover of "hello, I love you won't you tell me your name." The message was us singing (in a thick tex-mex accent) "hallo..... we laahv yoo wontchooo tal us yer name... hallo we laahv you wontchoo tal us yer nommmmmmmmmmmmmbberrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr" - we thought it was hilarious and we refused to change it for her. That message stayed up for months until I replaced it with my own five minute piano concert featuring a medley of hebrew folk songs. We were not Jewish.

My Mom is many things. She has a generous heart that gives the shirt off her back to complete strangers. It was not unusual to wake up early in the morning and find my mother counseling a wayward teenager in our kitchen, or to run with her to buy groceries or to a garage sale to buy furniture for a family in need. And she is just as beautiful on the outside as she is the inside. I've always been proud to have the prettiest mother.

I can remember my favorite part of the day when I was five was when she would pick me up from daycare. I'd be playing in the back and here her call my name. I'd turn around and there she was, in her signature high heels and a skirt and a perm (this was the '80s). Everyone has always told me "your mom is so beautiful."

I get my passion and fiery temper from my mother. My mother was always first to dig her long red-painted fingernails into the arm of any adult who was ever unnecessarily mean to me and threaten them with their lives. "I'll get you, you sonofabitch." - And she was always first to get us thrown out of establishments for "bad" behavior. My mother was and is the original "girls behaving badly." That's where I get my over the top, boundary pushing and reckless sense of humor from. We've been kicked out of department stores for knocking over displays, refused service at the McDonald's drive-thru because she could not bring herself to stop yelling "cheeeessssburgerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!" over and over into the intercom, stared at for driving around town running errands with ice cream purposely smeared all over our faces pretending to be oblivious to it ("we have NOT been eating ice cream!" would be shouted to the bank teller, the dry cleaner, the neighbors), and gossiped about for picking pecans from our pecan trees (okay so we were crawling in the lawn on all fours laughing hysterically shouting "nueces, nueeeeeeeeeeces" (nueces is espanol for pecans) and pelting each other with them.

My mother has always been completely fearless of being silly and having a good time no matter when or where it was appropriate. She is magnetic, always the life of the party, always first to help anyone in need - and always in high heels. And I love her.

(And she is going to kill me if she finds this post and sees that picture to the left. "Dammit Danny! You take that down right now you sonofabitch" - But I love eighties helmut perms.)

Talk to you soon.

Danny

P.S. I bet Mother's Day is very expensive at the FLDS ranch.

Lez Vegas

So where are we at now with the number of states allowing gay marriage? Five?

Everyone seems particularly excited about Iowa. It's good news. Cheers. But if I hear one more person say "...well you know what they say about Iowa? .....So goes the rest of the nation!" I will have a seizure. Actually I will have a cigarette. Then I will have a seizure. I'm finding that remark is always delivered with a raised eyebrow and cocked head as if to beckon anyone in earshot to say "Wow - we hadn't thought of that... what rare political insight you have into the nation!" It's political hack.

Why am I grouchy. Oh I know..... Buy me a drink. Back to gay marriage.

If Mr. Smartypant's very original observation of Iowa comes true and gay marriage does becomes a nationwide right, I think Lesbians will be particularly pleased. It seems to be the third date in their courting system.

I think Las Vegas will change forever into the Lesbian honeymoon capital of the world. All the mega conventions that come to Las Vegas? No more. It's going to be one big dykes on bikes convention year round. No more showgirls. At least not the ones we're used to. They'll be baby dyke showgirls. The ones with the faux hawks and boxer shorts and wifebeaters with a lot of angst. No more Tom Jones. It's Ani DiFranco baby.

And personally - I think it will be lot of fun. One big awesome blossom of vag in the desert.

Michelle Obama Secret Weapon.

I love Barack Obama. He is a fellow smoker which makes us compadres.
I love Michelle Obama. I'll get to her in a second.

Chrysler has gone bankrupt. Detroit, the motor city is in real trouble. I don't think the auto industry will be healthy for some time.

About Michelle Obama. She could be a secret weapon for Barack. She's got this 1960's "Supreme" thing about her. Like she should front a motown group. With two similarly styled but not as pretty but as equally fabulous women behind her and they all sing "Baby Love" - or something like it. To hell with the auto industry, its dead and won't be back for awhile. But Michelle can revive Motown. Which also is an export from Detroit. And could quite possibly could save Detroit. Now that's a stimulus package.

I got a million other good ideas. I go to the movies all the time. (10 points for whoever knows that reference)

And now Mr. Obama, I'm ready for my cabinet appointment.... (10 points for whoever knows what that line that was based on)

It's raining in New York today. Talk soon.