Thursday, December 27, 2007

You Learn SomethingNew Everyday

Me, who barely works half the year, is working this week (the week between Christmas and New Years). It's been worthwhile. I learned the following: CBS broadcasting company offers full episodes of 'The Price is Right" online. America never has to worry about missing an episode.

On the topic of game shows...

It seems game shows are where comedians go to die. Howie Mandel, Jeff Foxworthy, Drew Carey, and the vulgar fellow from "Full House." If only there were more game shows there would be less out of work comedians.

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Another Morning After Question Answered

It's time once again for my weekly installment of "The Morning After." ("The Morning After" was a sex advice blog my best friend Anna interned for briefly this summer. The blog is now defunct due to the ineptitude of its founders.) Anna has convinced me to answer some of the thousands of questions she received this summer while interning at the blog.

**please excuse any typos. These letters were received via the US Postal Service and I have to retype them into the computer for this blog.**

Dear Dan Dude and Matilda:
(We can see how old these letters are as they are addressed to the lazy, flakey flakes, would-be sex advice columnist, who decimate blog dreams, and leave a needy public without answers. I hope you're enjoying Bermuda, Washington Heights, or where ever it is you two ran off to.)

A couple of nights ago I went to a neighborhood bar. I sat myself down at the end of the bar, away from the mega touch and took in the goings on of other people, some of who were playing naked photo hunt on the Mega Touch. A shaved-bald man sat down next to me. Not right next to me, he left one empty stool between us. We eventually struck up a conversation and he bought me some drinks. Actually, he ordered me drinks. It turns out he's the chef at the bar/grill I was patronizing, meaning he didn't have to pay for the drinks.

We left together. I believe he suggested we go to the convenience store across the street and pick up more alcohol, but I can’t really remember whose idea it was because we had been drinking. We headed up to my apartment booze in hand. We each had a drink then we started making out. Next thing you know we're naked on my bed. As we are fooling around, my hands running up and down his back, I start to think, "If he tries to kill me I'll hit him here in his floating rib. Hmm? can I reach is neck? I should have bought a machete to keep under my pillow." A minute or so later it occurs to me that perhaps I shouldn't be getting intimate with someone I feel may kill me. So I told him to stop. I apologized and said he had to go. He asked for the reason, I said, "I'm not comfortable being naked with you right now." So he got dressed and left.

He called a couple of days later and asked me out for a date. Should I go? If after I threw him out of my apartment in the midst of naked making-out and he still wants to see me he must really be into me. You don't find that everyday. Or of course he just wants to finish the job of killing me which he didn’t accomplish that night.


On the Fence.

Dear Fence Sitter:

First off, I'd like to apologize on behalf of my no-good predecessors, Dan Dude and Matilda, for taking such a long time to answer this question for you. I'm guessing that you already have made your decision. I hope that whatever you decided that you are still alive and do not find yourself a victim of a murder. If you happened to be murdered may I suggest your surviving relatives sue Dan Dude and Matilda for Wrongful Death in civil court.

On the off chance that you have been waiting patiently for months "The Morning After's" response to your pressing question, and also for the benefit of our (my) readers, I will now answer your question.

You did not include your gender in your question. I am assuming you're a woman by the bubbly handwriting used to script your letter. If it is true that you are a woman, shame on you. Shame on you for getting naked with a man and then throwing him out of your apartment. This action of yours plays into the lowest stereo-types men have about women. If you are going to throw a man out of your apartment for no evident reason you must do your best to throw him out while everyone is mostly, if not completely, clothed. That being stated, I think you were right not sleep this shaved-bald fella. It's hard to enjoy activities when you think your activity partner is trying to kill you. This is true of bowling, hiking, movie watching, dinner eating, and especially sex. It matters little whether or not your activity partner has shown signs he or she is going to murder you. He or She could just be sitting across the dinner table from you when you get the sense he has put Iocane powder in your gnocchi. You could choose to finish the gnocchi knowing that you are being paranoid and ridiculous with your thoughts of Iocane poisoning (possibly burn your DVD of the Princess Bride when you get home), but each forkful will feel like Russian Roulette. You'll eat the whole plate but won't taste a thing and then probably vomit later; fear kills your taste buds and makes you nausea. Same goes for sex. Nothing puts the kibosh on orgasm potential like distrust and Iocane powder.

As for whether or not you should go out with him again (actually, for a first time) I'd say no. It seems you would be going out with him because he is into you. Whether that be for dating or violent crimes is irrelevant. You really need to be going out with people you are into. I think in recent years there as been too much emphasis put on whether or not a dude is into us women. Making it seem like a man being into a woman is some rare thing. It's not. You need to be into him, and if you are into him then go on that date. Again, his intentions are irrelevant because true love is unconditional and all forgiving. If you are into him you probably love him, which means you can forgive anything even a little attempted murder.

Good Luck.


Smallhands Ick

Christmas Koan

This Christmas Koan posted post Christmas comes from my paternal grandmother.

"Some of us get older faster."

Monday, December 24, 2007

For Christmas Eve

My family has been celebrating Christmas Eve pretty much the same way every year since I have been alive. We get together and eat a massive dinner consisting of pasta, artichokes, and an array of fishes. We drink wine, belinis, beer (as a small child family members would dip their fingers into the wine and tell me "take a taste"--I attribute this to keeping me off the "sauce" until college.). Then there is dessert and then gift exchanging and the next thing you know it's one in the morning.

I remember on year, I was thirteen years old, at the age where you're starting to think that maybe it's not Santa who is leaving gifts under the tree, but maybe it's burglars who burgle backwards. I recieved a phone call at 9am. I groggily pick up the phone and ask, "Who is it?" because I'm still sleeping, I only went to bed 6 or 7 hours ago. On the other end of the phone was my friend Carlene she inquired, "What did you get?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"I'm still in bed, I'll call you later."
I was dumbfounded. It was 9 in the morning and Carlene had not only opened all her gifts, she had tried on all the clothes her mom got her from Marshalls, got into a fight over said clothing, then had breakfest, and then called me. (Perhaps her family didn't do steps 2 and 3).

The phone rang again about a hour later.
"What did you get?" It was Carlene again.
"What?...Dude, I'm still sleeping?"
"Still sleeping? Don't you want to know what you got?"
"It'll still be there at noon. Aren't we teenagers now? Doesn't that mean we have to act like we don't give a shit about childhood things like Santa Claus?"
"This isn't math, Rachael, these are gifts!"
"Alright, I'll call you when I know."

She called a third time an hour later forcing me out of bed to go downstairs and open my gifts. It's funny I don't remember what I got that year at all. I'm sure there were clothes involved but what they looked like I have no idea. Nor do I remember the cds or other fun things my father might have given me, but I do remember the one thing I didn't get, an uninterrupted nights rest of 10 hours.

For his Birthday I think Jesus would like us all to love one another unconditionally, at least for the day. The only way I'll be able to love you people is if I get my unconditional-love sleep. Please no phone calls before noon.

God Bless Us Everyone

Merry Christmas!

Friday, December 21, 2007

What I want for Christmas

According to Hallmark Hall of Fame Entertainment Christmas is a time for miracles. Well, this year I know what I want for the holidays and it is more in the miracle vain than the gift wrap variety.

I want Charlie Rose, PBS interviewer, to be a completely different person than he is. Then his show--black background and all--would be great.

Enough with the interrupting of your guests, with your inaccurate summations of what your guest just said.

Charlie Rose: So what you're saying, Noble Prize Winner is that I'm a great listener and have a mind like a sponge.

Nobel Prize Winner: No. Ahh. Actually, not exactly. What I was trying to get across is that Pat Sajack could do what you do, except he's shorter.

Charlie Rose: So for our viewers at home, who are not as savvy as I am in the ways of media, let me just clarify. You're saying that journalists are just taller game show hosts?

Nobel Prize Winner: Charlie, I want to throttle you.

Charlie Rose: I am seeing somebody.

Nobel Prize Winner: Aren't you supposed to be recovering from a heart attack still?

Charlie Rose: Thanks for coming on, it's always great to have you on the show.

Nobel Prize Winner: Thank you, Charlie, I can't believe you have a college degree. Always a pleasure.

If only this wasn't who the man was.
Happy Holidays!

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Christmas Cunundrum

Christmas is fast approaching and this year I'm filled with anxiety. I don't know how my parents and I are going to celebrate Christmas this year. You see, ever since I was a child my parents and I celebrated Christmas the same way each year. My mom (or Santa) would buy me a number of clothing items; my mom would then badger me to try them on; I would refuse continually until my will gave out and I acquiesced; I would hate most of it; and then my mom would get insulted (even when they were from Santa--my mom never takes my side.); mom would say, "Fine, you don't like'em. I'll just get my money back;" and, then we'd go eat the breakfast that dad prepared.

Sadly, this year we won't get to enjoy this ritual for Christmas because we did that all for Hanukkah. My mom wanted to return the clothes early before her credit card bill came in, this way the charges wouldn't show up at all on next month's statement. Which is fine. But, now how are we going to spend Christmas morning? I guess we're just going to eat breakfast. I think this year's Christmas is going to be a little empty.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Morning After meets Smallhands

Today we are going to give my best friend Anna's idea a try. She wanted me to take over for the defunct Morning After Sex blog that Anna interned for this summer. The italicized script below is the letter Anna chose for today's question. It will be followed by my answer.

Hi Dan Dude and Matilda:

I have a very pressing question. You see, I accidently doomed myself to have a minimum number of sex partners before I can find love. One night years ago I was in bed with a very attractive man who had a great deal more sexual experience than me. I have always felt a little insecure with my sexual abilities and my miniscule number of sex partners. I guess I wanted to execuse any possible bad sex I offerred up that night, so I told him the truth that I hadn't slept with that many people prior to sleeping with him. He said how many people do you think you should have slept with by now? I responded off the top of my head with the number 7. Now I feel that universe is holding me to this arbitrary number. I won't be able to find reciprocal love until I sleep with 7 people. I now have slept with 6 people.

My question is: I think I have found someone who is non-threatening, and who would sleep with me. Unfortunately, I don't like him that much. He's a nice guy and everything, but he's kind of boring and well, not to be superficial, but he has flippers for hands. I mean in the dark I guess they won't be that noticable. Though, I do know they are there. I didn't meet him in the dark-- I've seen the flippers. Is it worth sleeping with a guy who has flippers for hands in order find love sooner? Do I sleep with flipper boy or not?


Cursed by a Big Mouth

Dear Big Mouth:

First, I'd like to congratulate your not ignoring the universe and trying to please it. A pissy universe can cause landfills of trouble. My advice to you is to keep looking for lucky number 7. Don't force the issue with this fellow. You're obviously, not thrilled about him personality wise or physically. I have found, in my sexual travels, that though the mind often times is willing to sleep with whomever, the vagina isn't always as accommodating. You may get the flipper boy home with you, both their lying naked on your bed, only to find your vagina isn't granting his flipper penis any access. However, if flipper boy makes the first move I'd go with the flow and see what happens. If it works out, great you can go find love. If not well, you already knew you had to look for number 7 anyway, so no harm no foul.

Good luck.



The Morning After Six Months of Radio Silence

My best friend Anna approached me with a proposition. Well, really, more of a complaint and a half hour of bitching, but somewhere in there was an idea that required me to do work.

Anna said:

“Ugh, Rachael remember that blog I was interning for? ‘The Morning After?’ It was a sex advice blog.”


“Well they don’t do the blog anymore. In fact, they only did one blog entry and then disappeared. Dan Dude and Matilda can go suck it. They start this blog, put an ad out for interns, and I respond. I do all this work. I wrote the bios, for god sake. You’d think they could have written the bios as it’s their lives. I wrote the opening page that describes the mission of the blog. Again, that was there idea. What blog does that? Who reads a blog’s mission statement? And, now, I am not going to get my college credit.”

“Anna you’re 8 years graduated from college.”

“I know was going to sell my credits on Ebay. I’m a musician I need the fundage, I can’t do a free internship.”

“Can you sell college credit on the internet?”

“Of course the University of Phoenix does it every day.”

“But they offer classes.”

“Well, I’ve done the internship for the student buying the credits. Basically, I’m being paid for doing their internship. I’m providing a service. Like, ‘Oopsy. Dude, I totally forgot to get an internship and I need one to graduate and the semester ends next week. Better go on Ebay and buy one.’”


“This is hardly the point. The point is I did all this work. I went through bags and bags of mail to find good questions for Dan Dude and Matilda to answer and then they never answered them. We have sex lives to save! Now with the one measly entry on ‘Morning After’ it looks like the blog was created solely to answer that one stupid question. But it wasn’t that woman’s idea to create the blog. She just had a sex question. I’m sure if that woman had a blog she would have dealt with her sex problem with a metaphor about the Grand Canyon or something. She didn’t need a whole new blog for one question. But the world needs a sex help blog with lots of varied questions. We must help humanity before the world melts and the seas turn to tar pits of oil. Rachael, will you help me answer these questions on your blog?”

“Well, I have jokes and stuff to post.”

“Sure, we don’t have to do it everyday maybe once a week or something.”

“OK. We’ll try answering sex questions once a week.”

“Outstanding! Can I get college credit for this?”

“I don’t have any of the paper work.”

“What if I get you the paper work will you fill it out.”

"I'm not really a company. I'm just a girl."

"Fine it'll be internship in women's studies."

"Uh. OK."

"Great. This Tuesday you'll answer the question."

"I guess so."

So tomorrow smallhands_ick will answer a sex a question selected by my best friend Anna answered by me and not Dan Dude or his cohort Matilda, who have a great deal more sexual experience than me.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Two Things I was Told To Put In My Act

1. Several weeks ago I attended an all women event. It was supposed to be some sort of networking thing, but it turned out to be a book promotion thing. I forget the name of the author who penned the book being promoted entitled "Thank you Power." However, Donna Hanover (the former 1st lady of NYC and Rudy's second wife) was interviewing the author fall of us. At the end of the evening where the discussion had centered around career, Donna says, "Oh and if any of you ladies are searching for romance or thinking about it, let me tell you this. I dated a guy in college for a bit. We broke up while in college. He was kind of a jerk and he never apologized. Then 34 years later out of the blue he calls me and apologizes and we're now dating. So ladies, keep the faith. They do call and tell you what you want to hear."

I just started laughing. I thought, "Noooo! Donna, you can't tell a room full of women that story because we'll all wait 34 years! We'll wait until we're dead!"
2. I'm not really a hugger. It's not that I don't like being touched or whatever. It's just that hugging is a gesture of friendship and I don't trust that you actually want to be my friend. You're hugging me so that you can get me to trust you so can stab me in the back. Well, I'm not fooled. I see your impending deception a mile away and a firm handshake will do just fine.
I think there is a reason these aren't in my act.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Holiday Merth

It's Christmas time which means it's time once again for my mother to holiday shop. She asked me what I wanted this year. I responded, "Knives." (to cook with, people. Not to stab comedians with). My mom said, "Ehhh. Hmmm. How about I pay for you to get your upper lip waxed." I said, "I think that'll be a little hard to wrap. And does that fit under a tree?"

You know you have some mustache when your mother won't kiss you.

Monday, December 10, 2007

I is Brilliant!

I caught a few minutes of that game show "Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?" I have to say it is totally fixed in favor of the 5th graders. They ask questions that have nothing to do with adult life. Am I smarter than a 5th grader? Hells yeah. Does a 5th grader know what wine to have with steak? In the category a 5th grader can tell you which continent Russia is located, but do they know where my ex-boyfriend is located? No. I do though. And I'll tell you this, it isn't Russia. He doesn't have the money to be in Russia so who cares what continent it's on. 5th grade math is useless. When do you ever use long division in life? But ratios are important. Why don't they ask these kids how many glasses of water per alcoholic beverage do you need to drink to avoid a hang over?

Our President couldn't answer any of the questions asked on this show, and he's president of the U.S. But I bet you these kids couldn't tell you the first thing about PR, Spin, and the best way to shred evidence. Kids, listen up, the answer isn't your dog.

Shows this week:
Monday 12/10 Billy Club-8pm-$ One item-- Downstairs at Comis (14th street and 9th avenue)
Monday 12/10 Jazz Hostel -- 9pm-- Free-- Jazz Hostel (106th street and Central Park West)
Wednesday 12/12 Astoria Beer Garden -- 8pm--Free--Astoria Queens (I don't know the

Friday, December 07, 2007


It's nearly 6 years since I told my first joke on a stage. I have had a good run, but I'm ready, now, to turn the page. I'm starting on my new creative career as a visual artist. After two weeks of slaving away on the 39th floor of a Rockefeller Center building (It's kind of like a Rockefeller grant of sorts) I'm ready to exhibit my first art show here on this blog. The theme is capitalism versus humanity versus the mind versus high school detention. I beg you, please don't illegally download these pieces and print them out for yourselves. I'm desperately trying to make my way to South America.

Entitled: "What do you mean it's not 5:00 pm yet?" or "An hour to Freedom"

Entitled: "Dreams of Peru" It goes for $7000 (the amount of money I'll need to comfortably travel to Peru.

Here we have on of my favorites: "Emerson, $120,000"

This one is entitled: "8:30am--Oh the Inhumanity!"

Here we have a piece entitled: "The world unites. South Korea, San Franscico and Russia closing the gap of differences one ship at time."

Thursday, December 06, 2007

Bob Ross Incarnate

Hey Corporate America,

You can try to stop the temps of the world by unistalling freecell, solitaire, and minesweeper. You can block access to Myspace and Facebook. But you will not succeed. Our will is too strong; Our might is too great; and, our ablilities to not be productive too exceptional! If it's a choice between filing papers and creating computer art in Paintbrush, well I think the picture above answers that question.


The Cubicles.

In a related matter I think I'm going to become a visual artist and sell my works to companies looking to adorn their walls with unoffensive work. My first show will be called "Bored in a Box." Or maybe "Board in a Box" where I'd be playing on the homonym of board (the object that might make up a box) and bored (the state of being when sitting in a box. Perhaps, I'll also start a band called the cubicles.

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

Why My Single Friends are Better Than My Relationshiped Friends

My single friend Mike had an extra free ticket to the broadway play "Homecoming" by Harold Pinter, so Mike brought me. My friend Melinda is in a relationship. She won a pair of tickets to see the movie Juno she brought her boyfriend. I am not her boyfriend. That is the problem with people in relationships they are always sharing things with thier significant others and not with me.

Here's a Christmast Song you're not sick of yet.

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Pre-Hanukka Tale That Has Nothing to do with Hanukka

Once upon a time in an over crowded island lived a Prince and his good friend, The Juggling Ninja. The Prince and the Juggling Ninja had studied at the Fairy Institute from 1995-1999. The Institute was founded for Fairies originally but in the early 1900s opened up it's enrollment to everyone and expanded its coarse offerings so one could major in Prince-ing, Ninja-ing, Juggling, Writing Literature and Publishing among others. Many years after graduating the Fairy Institute the Prince met a Wicked Witch. Well, she wasn't wicked she was more pouty. Yes, he met a Pouty Witch who had put spell over the Prince tricking the Prince into falling in love with her. At first no one knew she was a Pouty Witch because she lived on a frozen tundra in a land some call Missoula, MT. The tundra helped conceal the Pouty Witch's true identity. No one suspected she was a witch at all, most thought she was just a quasi-hippie from an affluent famil back East. Eventually, the Pouty Witch left the tundra to sink her claws into the Prince. (Literally they were claws similar in look to a vulture's. I can't believe people saw those hands of hers and didn't know she wasn't a Witch. You live and learn people, even in fairy tales.) Her claws sank deep into the Prince making him bleed all over the place (and again no one said anything), and all his friends including the Juggling Ninja were happy for him. They were happy for three reasons: 1) They didn't know she was pouty as she had them all fooled; 2) He was in love and you should be happy for your friends when they are in love; and, 3)Even if they knew she was a Pouty Witch who are any of them to judge? You should see some of the creatures these people dated.

The months wore on and eventually the Prince's friends began to hate the Pouty Witch because she was always pouting. She was constantly jealous over nothing, which was a real pain in the ass. Despite this the Juggling Ninja continually reached out to the Pouty Witch. The Juggling Ninja invited her to events and tried to make the Pouty Witch feel welcomed in the Prince's principality and social group. The Pouty Witch never responded. The Juggling Ninja was not pleased, but the Ninja said to herself, "Hey, whatever I'm not dating her and I have friends who don't pout I can hang out with. I was just trying to be a nice Ninja."

A couple of years went by and the relationship began to sour between the Prince and the Pouty Witch. Even spells and curses appear to have an expiration date these days. They just don't build spells like they used to. Even though the Prince was able to see through the Pouty Witch's plot she still had those tallons in his ribs which feels alot like love. But, he had to free himself and free himself he did. The Prince had a special power that enabled him to rip her claws right out of his sides. This of course caused more bleeding and pain, but as Kings and Bishops say "Freedom comes at price. And remember always be scared." The Pouty Witch's reign was over. The Prince had freed himself by using his ability to over- analyzing. This enabled him to think past his feelings and run far away. The Pouty Witch shriveled up and the Prince’s friends rejoiced. They thought it was the last they would see of her.

A couple of years passed and all was well with the Prince. The Juggling Ninja was struggling but she always struggled it's hard being a juggling ninja. It doesn't pay well, if any thing at all, men are literally intimidated by ninjas, making it really hard to date. This particular ninja was somewhat paranoid, which is never easy. Anyway, one day the Juggling Ninja was working for an Ogre known as the "The Man." The hours were ridiculous and the atmosphere was soul crushing but, rents are high on an over crowded island and the ninja wasn't a Zen Buddhist and needed a place to protect her from the elements. (Side note: isn't ironic that an over crowded place is an expensive place to live. You'd think with all those people there to pay money for a small island it would be cheaper.) As the Juggling Ninja worked for the Ogre she received a message via a carrier pigeon named "Hotmail" from the Pouty Witch. In turns out the Pouty Witch hadn't died she was alive and well sending flocks of carrier pigeons out of her window with a singular message about temporarily relocating to a place called Van Hailen. The Juggling Ninja was beside herself. "I'm on her mailing list? What the fuck? The bitch couldn't respond to social invitations when she was dating my friend, but two years later I have to have pigeon shit on my desk? I don't keep in touch with my own exs why would I keep in touch with my friend's ex-girlfriends?" The Juggling Ninja, furious by the perceived insult, devised a plan for revenge. The Juggling Ninja would put the Pouty Witch on her mailing list. The Juggling Ninja would inundate the Pouty Witch's mailbox with information on where the Ninja would be juggling around town. Ha Ha! See how she likes it. Then the Ninja got sad. Her plan had one major flaw. The places the Ninja juggles aren't that impressive mostly bars and small theatres. But then the Ninja got happy. The ninja would make shit up. Her mailing list would be full of lies like how the Ninja was appearing on Letterman, "so set your dv recorders." Or how she was headlining Vegas! Yeah! Then the Ninja got sad again (because the ninja is well trained and can go from one emotional peak to another in a blink of an eye.). Why is the Ninja going to put this much effort into a witch she barely knows? That's just a little pathetic. But then the Ninja forgave herself and said, "Well, it was a funny idea and if I were working for the Ogre past this week it would have been a fun way to pass the time."

So the Juggling Ninja let it go and wound up getting drunk with her friends later that night. The Pouty Witch was still a Pouty Witch was punishment enough.

And they all lived happily ever after.

Monday, December 03, 2007

Venezuelans are Single and Loving It

Does anyone else think it was kind of sweet how Cha'vez ran for dictator? Dictators are usually much more brutish but not Chaevez if the Venezuelans didn't want him to be dictator then he didn't want to be dictator. And let's face it it's not Cha'vez's fault, the people of Venezuela just can't commit. They're not ready to get into a "Until death do we part" relationship with their executive branch. It's not that they don't like Cha'vez but they want to keep their options open. And to Cha'vez's discredit I think he was moving a bit too fast for the Venezuelan people. He's only been their president, what 4 years? And now he wants a life time commitment. Slow down their buddy! Buy a girl or a nation some flowers.