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.
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!
