Wednesday, April 30, 2008

It's Not All Palm Trees and Suntan Oil

Greetings from sunny Florida. I'm down in the sunshine state visiting my aunt/god mother. Or as I like to put jt: maintaining my inheritance account. Yes, I have it on good authority (namely my mother) that I'm the first in line to my childless Aunt's estate, which I just discovered -- thanks to this visit-- includes an unopened copy of the Dirty Dancing Soundtrack on cassette. Caching! Unfortunately, it does include anything one might traditionally eat for dinner. Fortunately, I'll at least have a weeks supply of ice cream and cookies when probate time comes 'round.

Now, there are many people out there that think inheritance should be illegal or at minimum taxxed at a much greater percentage than it is today. My aunt's two bedroom home and I disagree. Keeping one's inheritance account in good standing is a lot harder than people realize. Dare I say it? Yes, I shall dare it might just be harder than having an actual career that will provide for you after you retire. There are birthday phone calls to be made. When was the last time your boss ever made you call him/her on his/her birthday? Then there is explaining the "Law and Order" episode you both just watched. If you have an office job you usually don't have to deal with the slowest internet connection since 1996 and yet somehow it's not dial up. All I'm saying is that an inheritance is earned people it's not just given away. It's hardly free money and with today's medicine you don't get to cash in until you yourself are ready to retire. "Retire from what, Rachael?" Retire from the hard work of keeping myself in this will.

So you want to tax my inheritance fine. But don't over tax my inheritance because it's not easier to inherit money than it is to out right earn it. Take it from someone who has been ousted out of two wills already.

Remember Kids

If you take a shower with a person you've had sex with you'll never be able to wash the sin off.

Monday, April 28, 2008

Clarity to the Confusion

I've been getting letters asking me to clarify my relationship status. It seems there is some confusion as I've been writing a bunch of "single gal on the prowl" type jokes recently and it's been months since I've written about my boyfriend. -- Oh and let me clarify when I say I've gotten letters from readers, I mean that I imagine there might be readers thinking about writing me a letter about the above mentioned topic.--

Well, it's simple, people. Single sells and contented relationship doesn't. And if this blog is about anything it's about making me tons and tons of cash. So if I have to write cliched jokes and stories about dating so be it. If I have to pretend my boyfriend Jack doesn't exist in order "to make it" well that's what I'll do. Sure I think it's amazing and interesting that I'm dating a man who was told privately that he's up for a brand new peace prize award, called the DuWeir award. This award is going to kick the ass of all other peace awards particularly the Nobel one. Those Nobel people will never know what hit them especially once Jack is publicly and officially nominated for it next year.

Unfortunately, people don't care about unique things like that. People what to hear about the gory details of one night stands, dysfunctional sex (I'll tell you I had to do some crazy research to write those jokes. All I have to say is thank god for Dr. Ruth and her publisher.), and tales of the most awful men New York as bred. God damn you Sex and the City for making stable relationships a topic of comedy yesteryear. All people want is the same old same old. You know that hacky comedy involving traveling to music festivals year after year to stalk an ex who is married. Every woman has a joke about that but you have to have a joke about that or you can't booked anywhere.

My point is that Jack and I are still together, but from time to time I'll be posting jokes about dating because I want a career. And when I say a career I guess I want a lot of youtube hits and blog comments. That's where the money is people. The money isn't in true love. So for all you entertainment business executives my boyfriend Jack doesn't exist. Just pretend I made it all up. But don't worry that doesn't make me alternative or edgy or even crazy.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Lazy Thursday

1) All my shoes are flats (meaning they do not have a raised heel) making my shoe rack more of a decorative than functional.

2) I said the following to a room full of strangers over a PA system the other night, "After my last one night stand of dysfunctional sex at 4am I am no longer having sex after midnight. My vagina is like a gremlin and can't be fed after midnight, otherwise it gets ugly." Where is my shame, people?

3) schitzophrenics disprove the "Power of Postive Thinking" and "The Secret." Schitzophrenics truly believe they are being chased by the CIA or that their pillows are made of rainbows. They believe these things to their cores and yet these things never become true. Those pillow aren't even stuffed with fluffy down feathers, just cheap polyester blend material.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Parenta Advisory

My mother called me yesterday to scold me. She was very pissed off.

"Rachael, I've just been reading your blog."

"Yeah, I know." I responded, because well, I know. Don't ask me how but trust that I do because I'm that good.

"Oh that's right. You and your stalking."

"It's not stalking if you are reading my blog. I'm not reading your blog."

"You know darn well, I don't have a blog."

"Well, then how could I be stalking you?"

"You have such a smart mouth. I went through some of you old posts and I've decided that I'm now pissed and offended. I want you to take down those posts about me giving you twenty dollars so that you could get a stranger drunk, take advantage of hime, so I could have grand children. First off, I never said that, and people will think I'm some kind of hussy raiser."

"I know you didn't give me money to get laid, but when I was a teenager you wanted me to wear minnie skirts and show my legs off."

"Well, you have very nice legs. If I had legs like that I'd be showing them off, it's a crime you were hiding them under baggy pants. But it's all too late now. You're over 30 you're body is going to go to shit any day now."

"I'm not wearing a mini skirt and I'm not taking jokes out of my act or blogposts down."

"The least you could do is change my name in the jokes."

"You're name isn't in any of my jokes."

"But you say 'my mom.' You need to change that."

"Are you on crack? What am I supposed to say? Should I change you to 'my neighbor?' The joke would go something like this: 'My parents are supportive though, they came and saw me perform. Then the next day they immediately bought long term care insurance. Should I take that the wrong way? No. I mean, my dad he bought me a tape recorder he said, "Here. Here's a taperecorder. Tape your act. You listen to it." Then my neighbor got all mad at him and she said, "How could you buy her a tape-recorder? Now She'll never get marriend." WHAT?!' Yeah, that really works, mom."

"Why not just say your god mother? Just say your god parents hate your act or your god-parents really want god-grand children?"

"You have to be kidding me."

"Oh and another thing, I never made this so called call you're transcribing for your tens of readers."

"Oh, Judith, you're just so metta."

"What did I say about using my name?"

"Nothing. This call didn't happen."

Monday, April 21, 2008

They Left Their Dining Room Furniture Behind In Egypt.

For the first time I hosted a Passover Seder. In the tradition of my interfaith-married family I had more gentiles than Jews present. I have been to many seders over the years, but hosting my own taught me a valuable lesson. It turns out if you host the seder you get to sit at the adult table. After thirty years as a Jew I finally sat at the adult table. Only problem is that I'm hardly an adult. My dining room table was a coffee table located in the living room, which I extened by placing a non-used closet door atop it. Seven "adults" had to sit on the floor as we read from the one hagadah we had that we assembled with a glue stick.

It was nice to find out that their is just as much wine imbibing at the adult table as there is at the kid's table. (Mind you in my family due to the long lives of the elders the kid's table is made up of 30somethings and their offspring.).

Thursday, April 17, 2008

I Get It

I know why people think I'm gay. It's because the men I date are so lady like.

Maybe I need to back that statement up. I was reminded of the following story last week.

A fellow and I stood on a street corner in an outer borough of New York City. The fellow fake punched me. I noticed that his form was all wrong. His wrist was severly bent and he had bad thumb position on his fist. It was a absymal. I told him to hold up. I then showed him how to correctly throw a punch. I put up my hands to be used as targets. I had him practice punching by punching my hands. Next thing you know one of his knuckles has a small cut on it. I don't know if he accidently hit my watch or his knuckles are that tender. He freaked out and I decided that he must immediately go to Duane Reade so he could buy hydrogen peroxide to fend off infection. And that there ended our boxing lesson for the day.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

I Should Be in Bed

This past weekend I saw the trailer for the new Patrick Dempsey vehichle, "Made of Honor." (Do you see how clever hollywood is to use some word play with "made." I would have just misspelled it.)

The trailer really upset me because it has ripped my life off. As many of you know I have been planning to have my very good friend (some might say my best friend) Jesse, who is a male, be my best man at my wedding when I marry James. At first James protested this idea because he wanted to choose his own best man. James acquiessed once I explained that he would choose his own best man, but since my best friend was a boy I too would have to have a best man. I unlike hollywood was not going to emasculate my friend by making him my maid of honor. I leave my emasculating to the boys I date.

Regardless of what I call Jesse at my wedding it's basically the same premise for what is bound to be a smash hit this spring. I can't believe all these people are going to get rich off my life. It's my life to a tee. The only exception is that James, my husband to be wouldn't care if I had sex wth my best friend. You see James and I aren't dating we're just engaged. But whether or not James cares or not is moot because Jesse and I do not find each other remotely attractive. And then of course, if I left for the U.K. for six weeks my best friend wouldn't even notice, never mind miss me and realize he is utterly in love with me and can't live without me. Further Jesse would never get any of his maid of honor/bridal best man duties accomplished and I have to do it myself making my wedding that more stressful. Because in real life you take what you can get when it comes to friends and husbands.

But other than those few exceptions this movie is exactly my life. It's bullshit that Hollywood has stolen my life and will now make a bundle and I'll still be living below the poverty line owing taxes.

Monday, April 14, 2008

A Lesson From Temping: Who Knew?

I don't know how many of you out there have ever done office temp work. Nor do I know how many of you have had a temp come and fill in for you at your job. So excuse me if I'm telling you something you already know. But in general when a temporary employee comes into fill in for a permanent employee the permanent usually leaves behind a memo with all of his/hers responsiblities and how to fullfill the work responsiblities. Sometimes there is even a whole binder dedicated to giving step by step instructions to the filling in temp.

As much as I try to avoid working while temping I have to admit this is a pretty great office convention. I think it should be applied to other areas of life. Specifically when someone breaks up with you he/she should then type up a memo of all the things you enjoy whilst having sex, and more importantly how to perform such duties. Some responsiblities like kissing the neck probably doesn't need much more explanation, but perhaps it does. While others like sex on rollerskates not only needs to be listed (it's not your run of the mill administrative tasks--as it were.) but one would need a step by step of how to have sex on rollerskates.

You are probably asking, "But if I enjoyed the sex on rollerskates wouldn't I know how to do it?" Not necessarily my friends. I mean, maybe it wasn't your idea to have sex on rollerskates and so you let, the now, ex just friggin do all the heavy lifting, which hey you're not even sure if there is heavy lifting. You don't remember how it all went down at all. All you know is that you were on rollerskates having sex and you found it enjoyable. Wouldn't have been nice if before the ex broke up with you they typed up a memo explaining the how to's of the position?

Dear New Dude:

Below is a list of favored sexual positions and sexual practices as well as the procedures to complete said tasks.

I introduced sex on rollerskates and she seemed to really like it. Perhaps you might want to check if she really did or was just being accommadating.

  • First, both of you strip naked.
  • Next put on the rollerskates (you must put on the rollerskates second. If you put the rollerskates on first you'll never be able to get your pants off. Try skating with your pants around your knees. You can't.

etc. etc.

All I'm saying, people, is it would be nice to have something to reference once a valued employee leaves the company.

Friday, April 11, 2008

Up Coming Shows

I don't have anything to write today. If you want to see me tell some of these jokes stop by

Saturday 4/12/08
Laugh Out Loud
Time Out New York Lounge
W. 50th Street (btwn 8th and 9th Avenues) Located in New World Stages

Monday 4/14/08
3502 35th StLong Island City, NY 11106
Free (great beers I'm told 24 different ones on Tap)

In honor of the first nice day of spring we had yesterday I give you "Springtime in NY" by Jonathan Richman

Thursday, April 10, 2008

A Road Tale

A couple of weeks ago I played a benefit dinner the proceeds of which benefited an organization dedicated to helping people who have suffered severe injury or major illness. The guest of honor and the inspiration for the organization was a woman who was completely paralyzed. The only part of her body she could move was her eye lids.

Now I could get into the logistics of how the show spiraled out of my control. But, who cares? At one point most of the people were laughing at what I was saying and then they stopped and started talking each other. There were four tables, the ones closest to the stage, which were with me the whole way.(God bless them) In between the talking tables and the laughing tables sat the blinking wheel chair-bound woman and some of her relatives, who also helped organize the event. The niece of the blinking lady stood up and shouted to me, "Tell them to shut-up." I responded, "I can't. You guys should have hired a clown or mime." Then the niece says, "Well, they're making my aunt very upset. She thinks they're being very rude." Now, I was on stage so I couldn't ask, "What the fuck?" How does a completely paralyzed person who can speak or sign communicate her disgust.

All I'm saying is that should have been the act. I will now berate this entire room by merely blinking.

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

If it We'ren't for Dating Would Jokes Every Get Written

Somehow today's post made it past the internal censor.

Now, I'm not the world's most femine of women. In fact most of my comedy colleagues refer to me as Parenta. Just Parenta no Rachael, like I'm some 5ft 1 football player. I actually don't mine. It's fine. However, this is not fine in bed. Someone said to me whilst making-out, "You have a great ass, Parenta." This is a time when I'd like to feel like a girl.

Monday, April 07, 2008

FCC Has Nothing On My New Hire

Today’s blogpost has been censored by my internal censor. I hired an internal censor about three weeks ago and today is her first day. Apparently her first act of business is to disallow the publication of today's post. She thought the cookie analogy I wrote, though comedically brilliant and emotionally poignant, does not veil the facts of my life and the feelings I have regarding those facts well enough and could cause undue complications in my actual life. More importantly, according to her, innocent people could be hurt. Needless to say I think my internal censor is a bureaucratic bitch and I should fire her at once. I mean I am an artist and I should not be censored for any reason. Feelings be damned! Hurt feelings just lead to more art right? And more art is just what this world needs—ok that’s not true at all. And sometimes psychic pain just leads to crying on the floor of the bathroom. I think that’s just me, though, and my feelings aren’t at risk here. So where does she get off.

I can’t fire her, however, because her contract is iron clad.—God damn censor unions.

It’s too bad too. It was a good analogy metaphor about those saw dust cookies that are on hand by the register at your favorite New Jersey Diner. They are free for the taking. They look so good and who doesn’t want a cookie, and so grab one (DELETED DELETED DELETED)

You pain in my ass.

Friday, April 04, 2008

When Your Friends are Really Into Him!

You know you''re friends hated the last person you dated when they overly faun of the new person you've gone on one date with--whom they've never met.

Friends: What does he do?

You: Do I really have to tell you? It's not good.

Friends: Yes. Don't worry it's not like we have interesting jobs.

You: What the hell are you talking about you work for NASA.

Friends: How boring. NASA is nothing but math. Everyone hates math

You: He's a...ugh... he sell bibles door to door.

Friends: That's awesome! He must have a very welcoming personality.

You: Aren't you concerned he might be a fanatical Christian?

Friends: Is that so bad? That you are dating someone who believes in something and can show he can commit at minimun to an idea.

You: Yeah, I guess.

Friends: What does he look like?

You: Well, how do I put this? He's missing half his face.

Friends: That's great! He's an iconoclast.

You: An Iconoclast? He's DNA deficient.

Friends: Yeah, he's thrifty. He's not wastefull. Most people are walking around with a whole face and he's showing us how wastefull that is. People can obviously get by with a half a face. It's like he an ultimate environmentalist--conserving energy on the facial level.

You: I don't know. I mean you guys haven't even met him yet. I think you're jumping the gun here.

Friends: Is his name Franklin Ignatious Fenton?

You: No, that's the dude who I used to date.

Friends: Exactly. We love the half-faced bible seller.

Just because I love this song.

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Avoiding Prosecution

It occurred to me that the Mafia could have avoided all types of government hassle if they had just learned to speak Cling-on. An already established language with very few translators. The only other people who speak it usually go into video-game production or sci-fi writing.

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

That Couldn't Have Been My Disc Slipping

You will frequently hear people of my generation who are in the thirties and early forties say things like, "Yeah, my back hurts for some reason. I don't remember doing anything like playing tackle football." What they really forgot is that they are in their 30s and 40s. And just like all the people who came before us when you hit a certain age body parts start to hurt no matter how irresponsible you are.

You see, we think of adults as people belonging to our parent's generation. When they were our age they were married with children, they had a mortgage or at least an apartment without roommates, They had jobs they couldn't afford to lose. They were adults. We however are not mentally. Unfortunately the human body doesn't care that you spend most of your free time playing guitar hero, body cells decay at a certain rate no matter how mature you are.

But you'll still hear us say things like, "I don't understand why I can't sit Indian style anymore without limping afterwards. I mean, it's not like I'm old. I just played beer pong at a party last night." Or, "My hip is killing me. That makes no sense I still go on rollerskating dates. Do you think my hip hurts from roller skating?" Or "My neck hurts, that's weird. It can't be old age as one of my three roommates just puked in the bathroom from drinking too much."

Well, my friends we did nothing but have too many birthdays just like the cavemen before us.

You see when our parents were our age they owned property, they had children and a real job, maybe even a career. They were mature and responsible. The members of my generation as we speed toward middle-age are still playing video games, renting apartments with roommates (hell I don't even have lease), temping, and still holding on to pipe dreams. In our heads we are still twenty-two so how can it take an extra five minutes to get out of bed? The human body knows nothing of societal maturity it only knows the rate at which body cells decay.