Friday, March 30, 2007

Healthnuts in Granolaville

5 years ago when I told my father I was going to move to Portland, OR he informed me that more people die of herion overdoses than heartattacks in Portland, OR. I said, "Yeah, I guess they're really healthy out there."
"What?!" he responded.
"Well, I mean so few people die of heartattacks."

Thursday, March 29, 2007


There's a common belief that consuming a great deal of alcohol to escape problems is futile. "The problems are still there when you sober up." That's true. Usually, your problem will still be waiting for you after your night or day of drinking is done. However, you didn't have to deal with your problem for the 2-5 hours you were drinking.

If a person sleeps 8 hours a day that leaves 16 hours left/per day that a person has to deal with their problems. If a person drinks for five hours that person still has 11 hours to deal with problems. So, what's the problem?

Here's my analogy. It's like someone saying, "Hey, you can have your weekends off, but your work is still going to be there when you get back." Absolutely true, but you still need a break from work. You can't work all your waking hours. If you did you'd need a drink or five.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Handi-capable. Not Handi-Dateable

Approximately, eight years ago my parents pressured me into getting Lasik surgery. Everyday I'd come home from work and they'd say, "You should get the laser surgery for your eyes. You're aunt got it. Your cousins and uncle got it. They love it. Wouldn't it be nice to see without your glasses." I thought it would be cool to see without my glasses, but I already saw with my glasses, so though it would be cool it seemed unnecessary. It is my belief that my parents wanted me to get the surgery because they thought if I didn't wear glasses I would get more dates. They believed in this theory so strongly that they were willing to put up the money for this elective surgery. I said, ‘If you're going to put up money for elective medical care, fuck the lasers get me some psychotherapy” I thought perhaps if I was a more reasoned person, a less guarded and hostile person, I would get more dates. Unfortunately, we will never know if my analysis was right.

It turned out my parents were correct. I got the Lasik surgery and soon after I was dating many more fellas--relative to the amount of men I was dating prior to the surgery. (I mean, it's not like I was dating a fleet of sailors at a time, but for me I was doing pretty well.) I wasn't any saner nor more emotionally sound. It had to be the glasses-- actually lack of glasses. Or so I thought.

In the last couple of years my eyesight has once again begun to deteriorate and so has my dating numbers. However, I do not wear glasses. My eyes have not regressed to the point that I need to wear glasses all the time. I should wear them to drive at night, but I figure if people are going to drive drunk why can't I drive near-sighted it's only fair. Anyway, I'm not wearing glasses and yet, the number of male suitors has diminished.

I began to search for a reason. At first, I thought it was because I moved from Portland, back to New York City, where there are so many more highly attractive females than in Portland. Meaning, I could compete in the Northwest but not in NYC. However, further investigation revealed this hypothesis to be false. I remembered when I first moved back to NYC I dated a number of gentlemen -- OK a handful. Plus, there are plenty of marginally attractive women who date quite a bit in this city. My next hypothesis was that it was my personality. I am emotionally guarded. I can also be ferociously mean. I quickly disproved that by recalling the fact I've always been this way and that has had no baring on my how many suitors I attract.

It finally hit me. It's my shitty eyesight. Men don't like women who can't see very well. Actually, men don't like me when I can't see very well. (As we know there are women out there who where glasses and/or squint and they are married.) So, basically, I'm still not sane, I have no gentleman callers, and I once again can't see. Thanks mom and dad.

**Note some have suggested my lack of dating has to do with having my boyfriend Jack and being engaged to my friend James. Perhaps. Perhaps not. More tests need to be run.

Differing Operating Systems

Computers and humans are not compatible. Humans need water to survive. Water kills computers dead.

Throw water at a person they get a little cleaner. Throw water at a computer the computer gets a little cleaner and you've probably just electicuted the computer and yourself.

Drop a computer in the toilet that's going to cost you $300 for a new computer. Drop a baby in a toilet the baby will cry, but you don't need a new baby.

A person drinks a glass of water, that person is somewhat hydrated. A computer drinks a glass of water and that's freaky computers shouldn't have arms, hands, mouths and artificial intelligence. You need to bash that thing to bits because it's going to convene with other computers. They will rise up and try to destroy all mankind.

Monday, March 26, 2007

To the Hip Hop

Imagine I'm a hip hop artist. See me on stage infront of a large, enthusiastic audience. Hear me say into the mic, "Throw your arms in the air. I want to stick a thermometer under there."

And scene.

Friday, March 23, 2007

A Night in the Life

Thursday night I agreed to play the basement of a bar in Brooklyn. The text message I received read, "there's some audience. It's good. Come on by." So I hopped on my bike ready present my jokes to "some audience." I wasn't two minutes into my set when things began to go awry.

The audience had been lead to believe the comedian before me was the last comedian. Then the host after doing 10 more minutes of comedy brought me up. "But we wanted play pool," some of the patrons groaned. I wanted to be offended but in all fairness the pool table had a spot light, but I did not.

Skip ahead two minutes. A dude wearing a hoody crossed infront of me to place his quarters in the pool table. The balls roucously came pounding down into the alley (or whatever it that thing is called where pool balls hang out when not on the table.). Then the hoodied dude, did not play pool. He decided to talk loudly to two young ladies. Fine. Until he said to me, "Take it off." I answered his request by grabbing a pool cue, turning to him and asking, "Take off what? Your head." I then proceeded to use the pool cue as bo inches from his person and stopped with a thrust a centimeter away from his face. I through the cue back down on the pool table and launched back into my jokes to a silence and obviously impressed audience.

It was a magical evening people. I got to peform to of my favorite things in one night--comedy, and karate. It's not everynight I get to do that.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Negative Nelly--The Better Lady

From Oprah’s “The Secret” to Dr. Christaine Northrup (seen on PBS “menopause and beyond” oy vey) there seems to be a cult of positive thinking on the rise. Well, I’m here to tell you positive thinking is a load of crap. These programs want you walking around telling yourself how fabulous you are. But what if you are not fabulous? How are you to improve yourself if you think you’re just fine the way you are. 'Cause you’re not fine--staying up to the wee hours of the evening, eating peanut butter and chocolate chips, watching crappy late-night PBS programming because you are too poor to buy basic cable, and your too poor because you’re too lazy to work a regular job. None of that will change because you tell yourself you’re sexy and awesome. Trust me.

Answer me this question. Are people who walk around thinking they are simply marvelous confident? Or are they delusional and arrogant? Northrup and Oprah would have ladies believing that if women believe they are beautiful then men will think they are beautiful too. No! You can think you’re pretty all you want, but that hair lip covering your entire lower face isn’t going anywhere. The sooner you face that, the sooner you can start developing other attributes to compensate for the horrifying disfigurement.

I’ve listed some suggestions on how to make-up for that awful hair lip.

Be a better listener. People, love talking about themselves and they will love you more for listening and remember all the bullshit that comes out of their mouths.
Develop a sense of humor. Be the funny one. Make fun of that hair lip.
Learn how to calculate percentages. People will want to invite you out to dinner because you’re the one who can figure out the tip.
Carry a gun and force people to be your friend or romantic partner.

I’ll tell you this. No one likes a pretty person who walks around talking about how pretty they are—do we remember that “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful” commercial? Everyone wanted to punch her-- never mind an ugly one.

Am I attractive? No, not really. I don’t have a hair lip or a glass eye, but for New York City I’m not anyone’s pretty radar. So what am going to do about it? Walking around in a cloud of self perpetuated lies. That’s not going make me breasts any bigger or my body less hairy. Instead, I’m going to go to Oregon for 10 days where the standards for beauty and femininity are a lot lower. By not deluding myself I have taken positive steps to get me some action.

(“what about Jack?” What happens in Oregon stays in Oregon.)
In conclusion, I think fibbing to oneself might be a road to happiness, but not a road to self-improvement and certainly not a road to acquiring things. The truly best way to acquire items is to be born into a very wealthy family. Wealthy people also get love. Lots and lots of love, not just big houses. Where Oprah and Northrup have it wrong is that getting things (jobs, riches, lovers) will not make you happy. Only being able to be happy will make you happy.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

"Jesus Will Be Here All Week. Enjoy the Veal"

I found Jesus. He's on the Internet. Ironically, it was a Jew who led me to the holy waters lying in a puddle in the middle of the Internet superhighway. My friend Charles' Star referenced a video on in his act Monday night, so I went home to check it out. I remembered seeing a link to this Godtube on the comedy website, The link led me to a fellow comedian's blog who had linked a video from that was an instructional video for Jesus loving clowns, who visit nursing homes to cheer up the elderly. No, I'm not making that up. And yes, I laughed very hard. I thought this has to be heathens poking fun at Christians. Then I went to the site itself. I clicked around and watched a few things. And now, I don't know. Is it comedians? Or is it actual Christians? I feel I've lost my faith in satire. If Godtube is in earnest then satire can longer exist. There is no satirist that can be more outlandish than the actual Godtube. I watched a video of man interviewing people on a plane that was in flight. He had a camera and a microphone. He sat next to passenger (a late teen early 20 something girl with a punk rock hair-do) and asked her if she had broken any of the Ten Commandments. She admitted to having lied and stolen a toy from her sister when she was a child. The interviewer then informed the young lady that if the plane were to crash right then and there they would both being spending eternity in hell.

No, Jonathan Swift could not best that. Mel Brooks (in his heyday), The Zucker Brothers, The Wayans Brothers could not think up something more outrageous to parody this shit.

Do you see, people. If Godtube isn't a farce, if Godtube is real that means the fundamentalist Christians have started a war on comedy. Their aim is apparent. To worship Jesus as ridiculously as possible so that there can be no punchlines. Meaning Christians, or at least Godtube Christians, work for Satan. It’s like some Internet version of Umberto Eco’s Name of the Rose.

Monday, March 19, 2007

Everyone Will Know My Name

Saturday, I headed from Manhattan to Brooklyn to tell jokes. Right before I left on my journey a fellow comedian sarcastically said about the show I was about to perform on, "That's a rocketship to fame."

Fame? If I wanted to be famous I would have shot a politician or a celebrity.

Saint Patrick

Though, I am not of Irish descent I did celebrate St. Patrick's Day this past weekend. However, I did not go bar hopping and binge drinking. Perhaps if I enjoyed beer or Guiness I would have celebrated in that fashion, but I don't enjoy those beverages. I don't think the patron saint of Ireland would have appreciated me toasting his day with a half dozen cranberry and vodkas (that is why the patron saint of Russia is so much better. I don't know what day Russia's patron saint is celebrated so I drink vodka most days so I don't miss it.) Instead, I decided to keep it real this March 17th and celebrated St. Patrick's Day being melancholy.

Friday, March 16, 2007

Oprah is Magic

As I head toward thirty I realize that astrology isn’t cutting it anymore. I need a new spiritual path. My best friend Anna has suggested Oprah Winfrey—or simply Oprah as she's known by her legions of followers. Anna tells me Oprah has this thing called “The Secret.” Basically, all a person has to do is think positive thoughts and visualize themselves getting what he or she wants and then they will get what they want. This intrigued me. Oprah is offering more than Jesus, Shiva or astrologer Holiday Mathis ever have. Anna swears it works. “Rachael, this ‘Secret' thing works.’”
“Anna, why is it called ‘The Secret?’ She broadcasts throughout the 50 States, Canada, and probably most of Europe.”
“I think it’s named after the deodorant, not the definition of the word. You know like women practice this philosophy or whatever, their future will smell sweet and not like armpit oder.”
“So it’s like cross marketing?”
“Rachael, who cares? The shit works, dude. Let me tell you I was feeling all down and out. My heart hurt. I was watching Oprah and eating my vegetable scramble. Her show was all about 'The Secret.' Somehow, I knew she was preaching the truth. I decided to think positive thoughts. I shut out all negative thoughts. I didn’t listen to doubts. I decided that the truth is I’m going to marry Ben.”
“BEN?! Anna, You can’t still be on that. You guys broke up forever ago.”
“It doesn’t matter. Every day for a week I visualized us getting back together, with no drama. I usually daydream lots of drama. You know, like, I get thrown in front of a subway train and wind up in the hospital. A mutual friend convinces him to visit me in the hospital. He doesn’t want to go because he fears I’m going to hate him. Our mutual friend tells him he’s being ridiculous. But when he gets to the hospital I do hate him. And we have a big fight. After the smoke clears we re-unite. Oprah made me realize that is the wrong kind of visualizing because I don’t want to actually end up in the hospital. If I’m not willing to get hit by a subway train I’m never going to get the boy back because that’s the scenario I have put out into the universe. So, I stopped thinking all that high drama crap. I thought of very simple non-dramatic scenarios. All of them were pleasant and cloyingly lovey dovey. I did that for a week. Next thing you know I get a text message from him asking me to see the band Verdi and the Cruisers--they're like an Opera rock and roll cover band-- at the Museum of Natural History. It was like magic. I didn't have to do anything. I just thought my thoughts. I sent no messages. I made no phone calls.”

"Don't you have a membership to the Museum of Natural History?"
"So you and a guest get in for free."
“Nothing. I just don't know that he was looking for marriage...Wait. Didn’t Cara just inform you that he sexually harassed her four months ago at some Rounder Records shin dig?”
“Yeah. That’s why I told him I couldn’t go to the museum.”
“Well, then you didn’t get shit.”
“No, I did get it. It worked. It’s just that at the time I conjured up the positive thoughts I didn’t know he had done that douche bag thing. Otherwise, we’d be engaged right now. Oprah isn’t Superman she can’t spin the Earth backwards and change the past. She can only help you win the future.”

She had point. I guess I’m going with "The Secret."

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

I'm a Shooting Star

I know that I am on my way to becoming a great artist. How? Well, not only have a come up with a great joke about wanting men I hope other women find repulsive, but I'm also on the verge of moving back in with my parents, just like Jack Keurac and Telly Savalas before me. I was hoping my move in date would coincide with my 30th birthday. Unfortunately, I might have to move in two months prior to my July birthday. Oh well, I guess that means additional months of home cooked meals and satellite TV.

What's most exciting is that I beat Telly Savalas' moving back in with his mom by five years. I'm five years ahead of schedule of Kojak. It's scary how talented I am. Further, I'm at least a decade ahead of Jack Keruac. Keruac lived with his mother in Lowell, MA when Jack was in his forties. I beat one of America's most innovative novelists (to be published) by over 10 years. That's crazy. I'm scared by my lightning speed success. My artist pyche is fragile. This is alot to take in all at once. I don't know if I can handle the pressure. Whoever said success has its own bag of problems was right. Sure, I won't have rent to pay, but I'm on my way to becomeing a living legend. I'm freaked out by my responsiblity to all of the children who will look up to me.

Who knows what's next on the horizon. It's all happening so fast. First, I hated working. Then my hatred manifested itself in an ability to hold down a job for more than 6 months. Now, I'm moving in with my parents. As a child I could never have dreamed of such success so early in my adult life. Who knows? Perhaps, I'll shoot myself in the head two decades before Hemingway. Could you imagine?

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Gay Flight. Straight Persecution. A Single Lady's NYC Utopia

It's hard to be a single woman in New York City. Supposedly, (I have not bothered to find sited data myself) women out number men in New York. Further adding to the problem for the single straight gal is the high percentage of gay men living here. It's a high percentage relative to the rest of the country. And this is why I support gay marriage. This is why I want the right wing religious freaks to stop hating on gay people--well at least gay men. I want the rest of the country to start making their small towns and medium sized cities alot more gay friendly and alot less straight friendly. It's time that middle America started chastising single straight men for their love of women and lack of marriage. These straight men need to be teased and harassed and made to feel unwelcome. This way straight, single men will feel the need to flee their home towns so they can live true to themselves in the liberal and tolerant New York City. This has a two fold effect beneficial to my straight single lady friends. 1) Gay men get to live out there lives in their home towns and do not have to move to the dangerous and over priced New York city. Which means, 2) There will be more housing available for the down trodden and persecuted straight single man who will be coming to New York city in droves just looking to love without feeling ashamed.

And I would like to take a moment and commend New Jersey for legalizing gay civil unions, enticing gay men to leave the city and start a nice quite suburban life with 2.5 kids, a fenced yard, and dog. Now if NJ would just bann straight marriage my single sisters might have a prayer.

Monday, March 12, 2007

Trophies for Everyone

Disgruntled Americans,

I am the cause of your unhappiness. I am the reason you are dissatisfied and upset with the U.S. government. I take full responsibility. Since I realize I am to blame I also plan to rectify the situation.

It's simple. I don't believe in government. When I write, "I don't believe in government" I don't mean that I think government doesn't exist like one might not believe in God or fairies. No. I mean, I don't believe in government like no one believed in Rudy (of Hollywood and Norte Dame fame.) I feel my constant criticism and hateful comments have deterred the U.S. government from living up to its full potential. Well, in an act of patriotism my conduct ceases this instant. No more will I rail against the miss-management of my tax dollars (as limited as those are), no more will I bitch about the stupidity of surveillance cameras, from here on in you will not be subjected to my rants about civil rights being trampled. From here on in I will only be positive. I will only boost the self-esteem of the government. My theory is that if the U.S. government feels better about itself it will be more competent.

I will now compliment our government. Umm. I love the quarter. I think it's brilliant. In fact I have to say that the United States quarter dollar coin piece is my favorite piece of currency. This is coming from someone who has traveled to Europe before the Euro was instituted. The quarter is fabulous. I think it's better than Spain’s peseta or England's pound. And, that's knowing that the pound has more purchasing power than the U.S. quarter. And the Canadian quarter can't even compare. It's smaller and thinner--pathetic really. The Canadian quarter is a hack. Canada can you come up with anything original? All I know is that I was never able to buy a game of "Out run" or "Pac Man" with a Canadian quarter. Nope. Those video arcade memories were purchased with a good old U.S. issued quarter.

Sure, we could have all done without those gimicky state themed quarters. Uff. How obvious. Shit! I'm being critical again. Damn! I mean....those state themed quarters were very folksy and artsy. They were very Grandma Moses. Good job U.S. Government. I'd pat you on the back if you had one. Not that you should have one. You're not a person. You're governing body and governing bodies don't have human body parts. Way to go on not being a freak government made-up of human body parts. God, you are so awesome U.S. Government. Bravo.

I think that should do the trick. The U.S. Government should be full of self-confidence that it now will act up to its full potential.

Thursday, March 08, 2007

Tax Season

So you say you're against the war in Iraq. Then why are you funding it. Take a look at your taxes this year. Sure you getting some of the money back in the form of a refund, but that's only some of the money from the thousands of dollars you have already paid "The Man" this year. If you really want to stop this war you're going to have to stop working. If you don't work then you earn no income. If there is no income there is no tax revenue. If there is no tax revenue then there is no money to fund a war.

It's that simple. If you work a job you're part of the war machine. Stop killing babies, leave the cubicle, and go home.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Armpit of America Slide Show

I first posted this as a blogpost. It is now a slide show. Do you think it's "shelarious?"

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

I'd Run For President, But...

**Please note that my college friend, Rob, is a regular reader and assumes most of my blog posts are about him. In fact most of them are not about him. Today’s post includes clarifying parenthetical inserts to counterbalance Rob’s ego. Thank you, other readers, for your understanding.

I have a friend (yes, Rob this is a reference to you.) who believes that laws deter people from committing crimes. I completely disagree with this thesis. If laws deterred people from committing crimes then the jails would be empty. The jails are not empty. The jails are so not empty that politicians keep suggesting we build more prisons. Also, a large percentage of criminals are repeat offenders. Meaning, they commit a crime, go to jail, serve their time, are released, and then commit another crime, which sends them right back to jail. You'd think if jail were so awful people who had already been there would do all they could not to return. I actually believe jail is miserable, even though I have no first hand knowledge. However, the depravity of our penal system does not stop crime.

In fact, despite all the ill that jail offers up to its residents, I think jails give a person incentive to commit crime. Think about it. You know that miserable co-worker who is only nice to people who can get her somewhere, and is a bitch to everyone else and is a fake, high school acting, 30-something hipster who is barely funny, I mean works in HR. Yeah, if you killed her (no, Rob, not you.)you would eliminate her from my life;--excellent---you'd wind up in jail, which means no rent to pay;--genius—and, then you wouldn’t have to worry about pursuing any career or artistic goals--outstanding. Further, jail has cable TV. I don’t have cable TV and I’m free.

That's why I contend that people commit crimes because they are motivated individuals with a passion for law breaking. The reason I never killed the aforementioned lady, who isn’t Rob, is because I’m extremely lazy. It’s a miracle I find the will to write this blog, we all know I don’t find the energy to proofread it. I’ll put it to you this way, I can’t get off the couch and wash my dishes never mind get out of bed, get dressed, put shoes on, go to my intended victim’s place of work or home, struggle with that person, and eventually kill her. Forget the facts that I might get hurt in the process of killing her, or that it takes money to transport myself to her location. In the end crime is just too much work. It’s much easier to watch Oprah and believe her when she tells me if I think positively I’ll get rich and own a big house. I think if America wants to deter crime America needs to mandate TV watching. America needs a cable subsidy program. People much prefer to watch TV than steal, assault, and kill.

Sunday, March 04, 2007


Sunday I spent some of my time reading up on the Albania pyramid scheme crisis. I thought it happened only three or four years ago, turns out it was nearly 10 years ago--guess I'm getting old. My google/wikipedia research revealed a valuable feminist history lesson (having nothing to do with the Albania pyramid scheme crisis of 1997). Turns out there have been moments in history when it has been easier to be a woman. During Hoxha's tolitarian rule of Albania in the mid 1900s he executed approximately 6000 people, but only 1/10 of those were women. That's pretty sweet, huh girls? Try bitching about equal pay knowing that. Yeah sure women still make 30% less than a man for most jobs, but only 10% of the executions in Communist Albania in the mid 1900s were of women. Which would you rather, ladies, a pay increase and equal tolitarian terror or making a few less bucks but saving thousands of past, Albanina, female lives?

Though, in all fairness to those men who were executed by Hoxha I'm sure men were just better at being political criminals than women.

Thursday, March 01, 2007

Joke Commentary

Comedian Stacia Jensen has a joke about her friend's enjoyment of sleeping with a boyfriend's penis in her mouth. According to the joke, Stacia's friend thinks sleeping with a penis in her mouth is like sleeping with a pacifier. I can't tell you the punch line of this joke because I don't remember it. I don’t remember it because I found the premise of this joke so distracting. After Stacia told the set-up I couldn't help thinking of the logistical problems of such an action.

Never mind, that this girl's face spends the entire night in her boyfriend's crotch. That's fine. What one finds a pleasant smell is subjective. One person's horse-farm is another person's dozen roses. One person's boyfriend's crotch is another person's hot chocolate. And I guess this girl is not concerned with the possibility of suffocating, nor his her boyfriend worried about teeth grinding or nightmares about being force fed food. My real problem with this sleeping position is fitting on the bed. How does the couple fit on a bed this way? If a lady sleeps half way down her boyfriend’s body her legs are going to be dangling off the edge. Or conversely if they sleep with heads at the foot of the bed, then the boyfriend’s shoulders and head are going to be dangling. This is the case even if both participants are me-sized (5ft 1in). Worse yet, what if the bed this couple sleeps on has a head and footboard? Does the girl sleep with a penis in her mouth and her knees in her throat? Those scrunched up knees would be right up against the man's straightened knees. She could break his knees, unless, his knees are also bent. If both sets of knees are bent the couple would form a sort of triangle, putting undue stress on the ladies neck. How is that comfortable?

And let’s face it how likely is it for both people in a couple to be me sized? I think you’d be hard pressed to find a couple that sized in Asia. And if you did find a couple on that continent they’d be worse off because the beds are smaller due to over crowding and space conservation. Two people my size can’t even fit on a bed diagonally. Well, maybe diagonally on a King sized bed. But could two very short people afford a king-sized bed and a place that can hold a king sized bed? Short people make less money than average- heighted people.