comedy.

it isn't you it's me.

2011-03-14T18:36:00.000-04:00

Dear Blogger,

There is no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it; I think it's time we part ways.

Please don't be mad. You know it's true.

I haven't touched you since November. I didn't, then I didn't some more, and then some more, til it got awkward and then I didn't even more. Now it's March and it's just too weird. I can't start over. I'm sorry.

If you need me I'll be here http://bethanyvandelft.tumblr.com. Don't get the wrong idea; I haven't been blogging there the whole time. I never blogged there when I was blogging with you. It just happened. I swear. It's just a better fit for me right now. I hope you understand.

Well, okay then. Thanks for everything, Blogger.

bye.

on to the next one...

2010-11-14T22:58:00.001-05:00

The new ColorStruck is this coming weekend, bigger, better and coloreder than ever...

You should get your tickets now. Once it's sold out, no, I can not come to the door and get you in. Please get them now?

8:30pm Friday Nov. 19
8:30pm Saturday Nov. 20

Nick's Comedy Stop
100 Warrenton St.
buy tix here

2010-10-08T09:06:00.003-04:00

"And get a couple of puppies, shar pei puppies, to cover my manhood. Ladies love puppies. Almost as much as The Hoff."

this is a long one...

2010-09-30T15:07:00.009-04:00

If my therapist didn't dump me a few months back because she didn't like my insurance, today we would be talking about my heavy sadness at the loss of one of my comedy idols, Greg Giraldo.

First she would remind me to not furiously Google all things related to his death (as part of my therapy my Googling was restricted to comedy related matters), I would say "Of course," and I would tell her about this interview with him that moved me so much last year.

I would say "That is exactly how I feel. Except for the talent. And the kids. And the success. And the Harvard. I have told you many of the same things."

She would say "Yes, I know. I have it all right here," tapping her yellow pad. She wouldn't actually, all that writing she did during our sessions was most likely "WTF??!!" and "Get me outta here!" doodles, but she would be professional enough to say that to me.

She would remind me that the soul crushing feelings of failure and dread and panic and self hatred is just the clutter of unproductive thoughts, put there by situations, events, people and stuff, held onto by me.

She would encourage me (again) to picture mean little thoughts, trying to derail me, with which I can choose, or choose not, to engage. And then she would give me a new "skill" involving visualizing a leaf floating away with the mean thoughts, or stepping out of a puddle of the antagonizing thoughts, or nodding my head and turning away from the little bastard thoughts, to help me not engage with them.

She did dump me though, so that's not what happened. After days of obsessive "following" his death, today I was downhearted, Google-abused, what's-the-point-ing and afraid to take my Xanax. Over my coffee (decaf, lest I trigger a panic attack) I remembered my little conversation with him in Montreal.

I got to perform in the Montreal Comedy Festival this year. I was waiting in line to check into the hotel, along with a dozen other comics, whom I've admired and seen on TV, when I promptly decided "I don't belong here." I hid in my room for many many hours, wondering how the hell I had finagled my way into this, waiting to be found out to be a fraud and sent home.

I did convinced myself at some point that if nothing else, I should see the city before I get kicked out of it. I went out, sight-saw, bought a wooden kitty sitting in lotus position, ate lunch in a quiet garden, and went back to the hotel, calm and resolved to enjoy whatever time I had at the festival before the revelation. I was going to go to a ton of comedy shows, and every single one that Greg Giraldo was on.

When I got to the hotel lobby, Greg Giraldo was there talking to a couple of friends. I lurched by him, smiled a spazzy smile and headed to the elevators. "You," I said to me, "are such a fucking retard, why can't you just say hi??!! Why do you always have to be a crazy moron?!"

"I don't." I replied. Envisioning a black hole of regret sucking on me for the rest of my life, I punched the mean thought in the face, and walked back over to him and said "Hi Greg. I am looking forward to your show tonight."

"Oh great, thanks!" he said. He saw my badge, said my name and asked what I was doing in the festival. We chatted for a minute or two about my event, his shows, the festival, and such.

"Well, nice talking to you," I said. "I just wanted to say hi and tell you that when I found out I was coming here, I was really hoping this would happen, you are who I really wanted to see and talk to."

"Yeah Right." he said.

"Yes, really. I wanted to meet you, I think you're awesome. I admire you so much, I love what you do." I said. eek. too much. such a spaz.

"Right. Of everyone here?! Me?!? Do you know Steve Martin is here!?" he said.

"I know it's queer. I'm sorry." I crinkled back into myself and headed for the elevators.

His friend stopped me. "No it's not. It's awesome," she said. "You comedians need to stop being such assholes and say things like that to each other. It's awesome that you feel that way, and it's awesome that you told him."

"I'm blown away," he said, "Thanks so much for telling me that, Bethany. I need to hear that."

"Okay, then." I said. We had a few more sentences, this time funny, not awkward, I made him a laugh a little, he made me laugh alot. I went up to my room, reveling in how I overcame my loserness enough to talk to him. I remembered the interview and thought "Omg, he'd SO get that!" He has to fight everyday to get out of his own way for him to be where he is, and he does it. I can do it too. "Maybe one day I'll open for him and tell him what a spaz I was that day."

I won't now. But I will remember that little conversation, and how it lifted me in so many ways. I'll keep getting out of my own way everyday, putting things on leaves, and stepping out of puddles. And remembering to be grateful to be where I am, and that I get to be part of this amazing thing, full of talented, brilliant, broken, warm, passionate and hilarious people like him.

Thank you, Greg. RIP.

well, I think it's funny...

2010-09-09T13:34:00.000-04:00

Recently I had to make a return. 2 girls in their 20's were ahead of me, with 2 enormous, overflowing shopping bags of returns. They began pulling out baby clothes, outfit after little outfit, butt loads of baby clothes, so I figured they were stylists.

The more stuff they pulled out, the slower the return-clerk moved, as if baby clothes are return-clerk Kryptonite. I had to catch a bus back to Boston for a show, and only left 1 hour to get this done, so I started to get a little anxious. Then I started to get a little ragey thinking "What kinda goddamn job is buying things and returning them, get real job, like a comedian!" which was followed by laughter, and then the absurd thought "Uh oh. Maybe they're not stylists. Maybe they just had an abortion."

I nearly choked laughing and decided I should most certainly share the hilarity with someone. The lady behind me looked like she was gonna punch me in the face, just for being there, so I called my hubby. I told him the story:

me: Isn't that hilarious?
him: No.
me: No? Why, "abortion" isn't funny?
him: No.
me: Is "adoption" funnier?
him: No.
me: Well everyone knows "miscarriage" isn't funny.
him: None of it is funny, Bethany. None of it.

Come see some REALLY funny, dressed up people tonight at
The Dress Up Show
8pm, Mottley's Comedy Club
61 Chatham St. - Fanueil Hall.

a beautiful end to a lovely summer day

2010-08-29T19:01:00.002-04:00

Castle Island, South Boston

cocktails and comedy

2010-08-25T12:36:00.007-04:00

2 gentlemen sat at my bar the other night. One was normal, the other's social anxiety disorder, or very small penis, had him overcompensating a little.

Guy1 confidently ordered an Aviation, a classic gin cocktail.

Guy2 pulled the "What's your favorite drink?" crap, to which I always reply, "A double whiskey, neat" which isn't always true. But men who a) don't know what they want to drink and/or b) want to drink a complete stranger's favorite drink are generally candy asses who are sort of flirting, and I'm generally an asshole who thinks it's funny to see candy asses gag on warm whiskey. He didn't fall for it. He got a Comso, which is what his candy ass wanted all along.

They finished their first round, then

Me: (to Guy1) Would you like another Aviation?
Guy 1: No, it was delicious, but I want to try some other stuff.
Guy 2: Yeah, he’s getting married next week. So he wants to sample a bunch of stuff out there, before then.
Me: Oh. I see.
Me: (to Guy1) Are you marrying a cocktail?
Guy1: ahahahahahaha!
Guy2: Oh, I guess I thought I was being funny, but I guess you are.
Me: It's my day job. No hard feelings?

Tonight I'll be at The Broadway Comedy Club with some of NY funniest ladies. Come buy me a double whiskey, candy ass.

THE FUNNIEST LADIES OF COMEDY Hosted by Victor Cruz
7-8:30pm Wednesday, August 25, 2010
THE BROADWAY COMEDY CLUB
318 West 53rd bet. 8th & 9th

2010-08-17T09:56:00.001-04:00

Im watching a baby sparrow eat vomit off of the sidewalk. Is that take out?

Published with Blogger-droid v1.5.3.1

this is why i really need to start smoking pot again...

2010-05-16T12:15:00.003-04:00

----- Original Message -----
From: BVD BVD
To: staples123@cccallcenter.com
Sent: Fri, 14 May 2010 19:47:23 +0000
Subject: can't edit my design [InteractionID: 9796d790-58c3-459a-851f-e1ddfb1ac2bf]

Hi, I am trying to edit the font size on my card design before I place the order, but it won't allow me to make the change.

Date: Fri, 14 May 2010 15:06:03 -0500
From: staples123@cccallcenter.com
To: bvd4@hotmail.com
CC:
Subject: Re: can't edit my design [InteractionID: f4da12ec-b1bc-42fc-a78c-8221f15ee679]

Hello.

You need to be in edit before you can change.

If any questions, please call 888-333-3199.

Thank you.
Brand Care Expert
Midwest Contact Center
1985 Lookout Dr., N. Mankato, MN 56003
P 877.883.2518 | F 866.486.5419
staples123@cccallcenter.com

RE: can't edit my design [InteractionID: f4da12ec-b1bc-42fc-a78c-8221f15ee679]‏
From: BVD BVD (bvd4@hotmail.com)
Sent: Sun 5/16/10 4:11 PM
To: staples123@cccallcenter.com

Yes, I can read English and I was in edit. I appreciate your vote of confidence. Is 'assumption' taught as part of your customer service training or are you just naturally condescending?

Thanks for your help.

just so you know

2010-04-22T22:54:00.003-04:00

The male giant waterbug will not allow the female to lay eggs on his back until he has copulated with her and she has stayed with him for quite some time.

Good for you, male giant waterbug.

the bit

2010-04-06T17:50:00.004-04:00

I had a dream that I was with a group of friends hanging out on a stoop with Senator Ted Kennedy. He asked me what I do and I told him "I'm a stand up comedian. I get to say whatever I want. Kinda like you people."

He smiled a little and I said "Yup. Just like you people. But I work an hour a day. What do you guys work, 10-15 minutes a week?"

He laughed and said "Eerrrr ahhhhh, yaaahahahahahaha!"

I woke up and wrote it down and went back to sleep.

I read it this morning, it was written just like it is here, but with this heading:

"The Bit That's Getting Me On Letterman"

I said out loud to myself "I shoulda said 'Headcase'. Once I'm famous, of course."

This is really what it should have said:

"The Bit That's Getting Me On "True Life: I'm Delusional"

Baby steps.

Buy your ColorStruck tix now!!

2010-03-25T16:48:00.005-04:00

Come out for a multi-ethnic night of laughter with these awesome ladies:

Deb Farrar-Parkman - Emmy Award Winner
Janet Cormier - Cormier's Comedy Madness
Alycia Cooper - BETs Comic View
Susan Alexander - 5 Funny Females
Esther Ku - Last Comic Standing
Sketch fro Sheila Jackson
special guest sets by up and comers Shereen & Asie Mohtarez

Get tix online at Ticketmaster.com or by calling 1800 745-3000

when you least expect it...

2010-02-20T15:40:00.002-05:00

husband: One time, instead of putting sugar in my coffee I put salt. Do you know how shocking that first mouthful was? It was like putting your hand down a hooker's pants and finding she's a tranny.

me: Wow. You must really not expect salt.

Please nominate me for "The Best Of Boston -Comedian"

2010-02-02T13:36:00.001-05:00

The Best of Boston 2010 - Nominations

thank you.

they like me. they really like me.

2010-01-07T13:47:00.003-05:00

Rooftop Comedy is a website that tapes at comedy clubs at select comedy clubs around the country, then posts their favorite jokes. They chose one of mine!

should Facebook stalkers be forgot?

2009-12-31T14:08:00.008-05:00

There is a little group of people stalking my Facebook page.

I know this because they spend an odd amount of time talking about it in front of lots of other people, some who think it's hilarious and that I might get a kick out of knowing about it.

The first time I heard about it I had posted a standard vague Facebook status update, along the lines of "I'm done". Apparently, someone in this little group woke up feeling insekur, decided it was about their group, and decidedly took action. The action being to tell anyone near them at the time about the status update I posted, and how it was about them.

It was funny, but really more pathetic. I was miffed, but in an effort to stay positive, decided that here was a wonderful learning opportunity. Armed with a keen interest in social anthropology, I unfriended some of them, and blocked only my status updates from others and left some as is. I posted another vague update, sat back and did like Bravo.

I was told one person went to another person wondering what I meant by the new update. The other person got online to see, only to find they couldn't see it. Now this is just hearsay, but I hear that one person took a picture of the computer screen with my page on it, to show the other persons who were unfriends or blocked. I can't help but wonder if they used their Acme Facebook Spying Camera for the job. Very impressive.

It caused a kerfuffle and I heard there was alot of "Did Bethany block you?" "I heard she blocked so and so" "I'm not blocked but I can't see her updates! How did she do that?" "wah wah wah wah wah" going on. Seriously.

I keep posting the usual random stuff. I chuckle when a person who was unfriended or blocked makes a smug comment to me about my latest update; "I saw you made cookies. With jam. Mmmm. Cookies are good" and "Ooh, Bethany, you were in NY. Yeah, I read about that. That's pretty cool, you going to NY and all. That reminds me of when I went to NY", sounding like little victorious Stewie Griffins.

I know they will read this, they just can't help it. But I'm taking off my lab coat, my experiment is done. I didn't really learn anything except that Facebook seems to be very intimidating to self important, petty people. For me, it is time to put childish things aside. 2010 is for me and my friends and family, our health and happiness, our hopes and dreams. Not for small minded, contemptible people.

That being said, if you think this is about you, it probably is.

vote for me on jokes.com!!

2009-11-16T16:08:00.002-05:00

vote here!!

post racial america

2009-11-13T18:08:00.004-05:00

Recently, my husband (caucasian), our house guest (caucasian) and I (not-caucasian) were walking home after last call, in the wee hours of the morning. The streets were empty and we were tipsy, laughing and talking, having a good time, when we heard someone rapidly approaching behind us. We all spun around and came face to face with an acquaintance of ours.

"Hi *XXXX (caucasian)!", I said laughing and a little startled. "You startled us a little!"

"Well of course I did," he said, as he passed us, "with all these niggers running around here."

My husband and our house guest stood with their mouths agape.

"See ya soon!" XXXX said over his shoulder as he turned the corner.

"Did that just happen??" our house guest asked incredulously.

"Uh huh" I said. We went inside and poured ourselves more wine and sipped in silence for a bit.

Then we talked about all the reasons why XXXX might have thought that what he said was ok; He has black friends. He's not American. He's gay. I'm not 'really' black. Which began a conversation about "one one-eighth black", which lead to a full rereading of the constitution.

As the sun came up and we all prepared for sleep, our house guest asked me "Are you upset?"

I said "Only that I wasn't quick enough to reply 'We're not afraid of them. They only attack **XXXXX queens'."

Obama.

*XXXX's name and **nationality have been omitted to protect him from all these niggers running around here.

where the hell did October go?

2009-11-05T17:14:00.007-05:00

What was I doing?

Los Angeles for a bit...

2009-11-04T17:20:00.000-05:00

a little Nantucket...

2009-11-03T17:58:00.001-05:00

a minute in NY...

2009-11-02T18:09:00.001-05:00

Halloween...

and now it's November. crickey. I gotta start Christmas shopping.

ColorStruck: Women of Color in Comedy - Go To It - Boston.com

2009-09-17T21:42:00.001-04:00

ColorStruck: Women of Color in Comedy - Go To It - Boston.com

Posted using ShareThis

ColorStruck: Women of Color in Comedy Friday & Saturday!

2009-09-17T10:33:00.003-04:00

Guess what time of year it is again? ColorStruck: Women of Color in Comedy is back! Please come to this one!!

If you've been meaning to come to a comedy show, this is the show I'd DIE to see you at! I would LOVE your support for this show more than any other, because it is the one and only women of color in comedy showcase and your attendance can help keep us going. Not to mention the talent is amazing!

ColorStruck: Women of Color in Comedy are:
Deb Farrar-Parkman - Emmy Award
Janet Cormier - Cormier's Comedy Madness
Coleen Galvin - Comedy Connection
Bethany Van Delft - Roxbury Film Festival
Esther Ku - Last Comic Standing
Dhaya Lakshminarayanan - Battle of the Bay 2008 winner
Susan Alexander - Friar's Club Celebrity Roast

Shereen - The Black Comedy Explosion

We really hope you can make this show, you won't see another show with more talented, lovely women of color in this area for a long time!

Friday Sept. 18 & Saturday Sept. 19

8:30pm

Tommy's Comedy Lounge @ The Charles Playhouse

74 Warrenton St.

Boston, MA

buy tix on line @

www.tommyscomedylounge.com

come to The Dress Up Very Virgo Edition tonight.

2009-09-10T16:32:00.002-04:00

Come see the winner of the Boston Comedy Festival and a bunch of the funniest comedians born between Augsut 23 & September 22.

All Virgos, all dressed up, all hysterical. It'll be hilarious and tidy.

Tonight 7:30

Mottley's Comedy Club

61 Chtahm St. - Fanueil Hall

Boston, MA

what a day!

2009-08-31T15:22:00.000-04:00

my birthday lunch.

my birthday present.

love you, hubby.

i'll be here all the week.

2009-08-31T13:48:00.001-04:00

Check out my stupid ass answers all this week on StupidAssQuestions.com

over heard at last call on nantucket

2009-07-25T14:31:00.002-04:00

"I LOVE shitfaced bitches!!"

fight racism with racism

2009-06-27T00:49:00.002-04:00

This thread appeared in my newsfeed on Facebook. At first I thought this guy was just another racist loser, and I tried to find a 'report' button on the comment box. But then I read his last comment, and realized he's only trying to help us.

Well thank you, Dimitri, for helping "us people" fight the good fight.

Another way to make a word lose it's meaning is to beat the shit out of the ignorant racsists who use them until they stop using them. That's a little more expeditious.

que bonita bandera, que bonita bandera...

2009-06-15T16:36:00.006-04:00

la bandera Puertorriqueña.
I made it to the THE parade this year.

I love my people.

overheard at the nail salon today

2009-06-11T16:24:00.002-04:00

"She's dating a black guy. He's really nice, and she's Puerto Rican any way, so I guess it's fine."

i <3 turkey sandwiches

2009-05-28T21:40:00.000-04:00

I eat a turkey sandwich every day.

Every single day.

Except on Sundays. I eat brunch on Sundays. But only on Sundays. The way some people only do coke when they drink, or smoke when they do coke.

Monday thru Saturday, I eat a turkey sandwich.

Definitely for lunch. Sometimes for breakfast. Depending on what time I get up. For a midnight snack; yum, and no guilt. For a special treat, when I've done good.

I do mix it up. It's usually turkey on Home Pride (yes, Home Pride) with Gulden's mustard. But sometimes it's Dijon. Or lettuce tomato on toasted wheat. Or avocado in a wrap. Or everything, hots on the side, oil & vinegar on a sub roll. Or in a club sandwich with bacon cheese and mayonnaise (I know, mayo. I'm half white) if I'm hungover.

But always a turkey sandwich.

Because turkey sandwiches are easy.

They are extremely hard to mess up.

Turkey sandwiches are always available. Except in Mexico.*

Turkey sandwiches are familiar. Everything else changes and makes me learn it anew. Turkey sandwiches are there the same, waiting for me.

Turkey sandwiches don't surprise me with their stupid crazy shit.

Turkey sandwiches are low fat.**

Turkey sandwiches don't lie to me or talk behind my back.

They don't judge me.

They are delicious.

They are perfect.

Turkey sandwiches love me for me.

All this talk is making me hungry. Ahmago make a sandwich. bye.

* the only 2 places I've been in Mexico.

** when they don't have cheese, mayo, bacon, or been dropped in a fryolator.

listen..

2009-05-13T04:37:00.001-04:00

if you're reading this blog, you should comment on it. Good or bad. It gives me a reason to keep going.

i found where in NY the swine flu is coming from

2009-04-27T15:37:00.004-04:00

On a lovely spring Friday afternoon my husband and I were walking down Canal St. and I was feeling a little bit hungry. Before we could discuss any of our healthy delicious Chinatown options, a shishkabob cart came between me and any inkling of good sense I have.

"Mmmmm...shishkabob" I said to my husband, instead of "Bleeecch. That reminds me. Let's go get lunch."

I ordered one beef kabob. The kabob guy dug through a pile of raw-ish kabobs, selected an "eh" one and put it on the griddle. He then took a wooden handled, rusty spatula thing and started pounding the shit out of it.

"Hot sauce?" he asked.

"No, just plain," I trailed off, captivated by the pounding he was giving my kabob.

As if in response to the beating, the kabob caught on fire. Kabob guy started blowing on it, the way a 2 year old imitating the big bad wolf might blow on a thing. He huffed and puffed and spit a shower of saliva all over the kabob. Unfortunately it didn't put the fire out, but rather seemed to enhance it, so I watched him huff and puff and spit on my kakbob for several more seconds.

"Tahini?" he asked.

"No. Just plain. No tahini, no spit, just plain."

The kabob started smoking like crazy, which I imagine was it's response to being mercilessly sprayed with spit. Kabob guy then took some oily shmeg from an adjacent filthier griddle and dribbled it onto the kabob. One time, two times, three times, four times...

"Pita?"

"No. Nothing. Plain. Please stop putting that stuff on my kabob."

"It will burn," he stated and spit on it a bunch more.

"Is he seriously spitting on the kabob like that?" I asked my husband incredulously. "I want to go."

"He said it'll burn," my husband snickered. Apparently he was having a good time.

Then kabob guy took turns furiously pounding the crap out of, then spitting on the kabob. It look like a ferocious gang beating.

The kabob finally died. He dribbled more shmeg on it, and placed it in a piece of food wrap.

"Lettuce? Tomato? Onion?"

I stared at him mouth agape. He took another kakob that died long ago, a mummy kabob, and put it next to the newly murdered kabob, wrapped them together and handed them to me. "Four dollars," he said.

"I only asked for one beef kabob," I said.

"I know what you asked of me. I gave you a gift," he said. For real.

My husband paid him and we walked away. I poked the top beef chunk, it was still completely raw inside. The other kabob, which I believe was chicken in it's former life, would have made a fine leather handbag. I was speechless. So was my husband, which he expressed by laughing hysterically.

I carried the kabobs for a few blocks, until I, being the caring and generous soul that I am, saw a starving trash can and kindly gave my kabobs to it.

We turned down Christie, me silent and disturbed, my husband intermittently chuckling and shouting out condiments, until we found a little place where we had roast pork over steamed rice with green vegetable and a fruit juice for $2.50. Deeeelicious.

I guess spit costs extra.

whoops

2009-04-21T17:07:00.000-04:00

I forgot I had a blog for a minute there.

Be back shortly.

hey Kid Rock

2009-03-30T13:09:00.002-04:00

Matt Stone and Trey Parker already made this. It's called "Team America".

okay Restaurant Week people, listen up

2009-03-20T13:47:00.007-04:00

We know you don't eat out much. We know this is your big night out. You saw us on Chronicle. You've been dying to try us. $33.09?! What a great incentive to go! We know. We are so excited for you. Really, we are. We know you are never coming back again, until you get 3 courses for $33.09 again. That's okay, we'll play along. We want you to have a good time. Here are some tips on how to make it a truly pleasant night out. One where we don't want to shove your plate down your throat. Pay attention.

1) Even though this is your first time eating outside of your home, ever, WE have been doing this a very long time. Trust us. That IS frisee. A martini IS strong because it is all liquor. The chicken is not made with pork. At all.

2) Yes, the portions are small. You are paying 33.09 for 3 courses. We want you to get a taste of our food, love it, then come back and pay real prices for real portions. We aren't retarded hippies trying to get you all full because we love you.

3) No, it does not come with a free drink. Spring for the $1.75 soda, stimulate the economy.

4) We are soo happy you have a reservation in the dining room. We commend your foresight. You still have to pay the bar tab at the bar. I promise.

5) Feel free to ask us what pissaladiere is. Or don't. We love hearing you try to impress your friends with made up stuff.

6) No, we don't know what the name of the creamy, kinda salty, pink thing you had the last time you ate out, 4 years ago in Cincinnati. We don't have any idea what the hell you are talking about, and we know we can't ask you because you don't either.

7) No, the tip is not included in the $33.09. Seriously??

8) No, we do not have a Restaurant Week menu for children. We're hoping you'll find us delicious enough to come back with your friends some other regular-priced night. We don't know if you will, but we're pretty sure your 4 year old won't.

9) We care very much that you have a gluten allergy. Every other week of the year.

10) We are servers, not servants. You are out at Restaurant Week, not entertaining the Queen of England at your summer home, The Breakers. Act accordingly.

11) Read the wine list we hand you. Don't throw it back at at us unread, it's for your own good. It will save you from looking like an idiot and shouting "I'll just have a pinot." We will ask you "Grigio, Gris, Blanc, or Noir", but what we'll mean when we say it is "fuckin idiot."

12) Contrary to popular belief, we don't own the restaurant. We do what the owner tells us to do, so we can keep our jobs. You can tell us that what we need to do is put mango chutney on the burger, like you had at the hotel in the Bahamas, and we will look like we care. But we don't. Fill out your comment cards, the person who does care reads them.

13) We can tell if you are going to stiff us on our tip well before we serve you your last drink or dish. Think about that.

14) It's called "Restaurant Week", not "Celebrate Diversity in Cuisine at Every Restaurant Week". French restaurants don't serve nachos and guac, Italian restaurants don't serve egg rolls. Sorry.

15) Please do feel free to post the story of your horrible experience at our restaurant on Yelp and Chowhound. Only people like you read and care about Yelp and Chowhound. We appreciate your help in keeping you away.

Now go and enjoy yourselves, ya cheap bastards.

i can has cheeseburger...

2009-02-24T16:21:00.004-05:00

The other night at a bar after a comedy show a friend said to me "I told my friend you are a comedian. He said never met one before, he wants to meet you." I said okay.

He brings me up to a fellow who looks like Biggie Small and Shaquille O'Neal had a retarded baby. I'm not judging, he just did. This is how our conversation went:

Me: Hi. My name is Bethany. Nice to meet you.

Him: I can break you down right here.

Me: Oh. Well me too. I can break you down right here.

Him: Well let's go.

Me: No. I'm not getting paid.

Him: I'll pay you right now.

Me: Not nearly as much as I just got paid.

Him: Okay then. You good? You wanna drink or something?

Me: No thanks, I'm good.

(He slowly looks me up and down)

Him: You sure? You want a cheeseburger?

Me: Nah, thanks, I'm all set. How bout you, you good? You want a Slim Fast?

His Friends: Oooooohhhhhh shiittttt! HAHAHAHAHAAHA!

Him: Aiiiiight. That was funny. Yo, Slim Fast. Slim Fast ain't original.

Me: My bad, I didn't try as hard as you. Yours was good though. How do you say that again "cheeeeeeezzzboorger? Cheeeeeeezzzzzbuugger?" That's some original shit, can I use it? "Cheeeezzzzzbeerger", zat how you say it? That's some good shit. How do I use it? Come on, show me, use it in a sentence. Damn that's some funny shit.

He stared at me and I stared at him, as some thicker, presumably more well-fed girls walked into the bar. He pointed to them and said "They don't need a cheeseburger."

I said "Indeed they don't. And they probably actually want to talk to you. So why don't you mosey on over to them then?"

He stared at me a little longer, then turned and walked over to the thicker girls.

My friend said "I shouldn't have introduced you to him."

"Don't worry," I said. "He'll get over it."

maybe I pushed too hard

2009-02-06T14:15:00.005-05:00

me: What would your dream job be if you could have any job in the world?

husband: I don't know.

me: You never thought about your dream job? really?

husband: I can't pick one. Maybe there's a job out there I don't know about that would be the best one I'd love to have.

this is the funniest blog. ever.

2009-01-15T15:32:00.001-05:00

I'm so sad I don't write it.

Fuck you, Penguin.

the story behind the fro.

2008-12-31T16:54:00.011-05:00

I have an afro now, and this is why.

It all began in April, when I was booked for an ad for a big financial firm. You remember, back in the day when they had money for ads. The client requested that my hair be straight for the shoot, for what reason I don't know. I usually get booked for my natural hair, usually by clients who book ethnically ambiguous models to show an ethnically diverse consumer group that many ethnically diverse people use and are very satisfied with the client's product. Maybe this time they were targeting ethnically ambiguous people who try to pass and invest alot of money. Don't know, but they wanted my hair straight. They let me know this at 5:00pm the day before my 9:00am call time.

On my own, I can get my hair about as straight as Tom Cruise; you can tell it's really trying to look straight, it just doesn't. I had to get someone to get it wicked straight in a wicked hurry. I called ******* for a 7:00am appointment, said I was super sorry but it was for a job, and I'd pay double for the inconvenience, cuz paying double was still a fraction of what I'd be getting for the job. Few people ever want to take on the dumbly daunting task of straightening my hair at all, let alone at the ungodly hour of 7:00am, but said person agreed and I was ever grateful.

I brought my own flat iron, as I always do, a lovely io-bionic something or not burn-y other, that only gets so hot. This always seems to offend said person. Maybe because a different (very dear friend) hairdresser gave it to me, or maybe the presence of my super sexy hi tech flat iron made said person's flat iron feel inadequate. Whatevs, it's my hair and I've been with it longer than ANY hairdresser, so I always bring it anyway, offense or not, and said person always begrudgingly uses it.

Well, apparently the sight of my sexy iron was too much to bear at 7:00am. Said person began. I felt the sensation of a whole lock of my hair being gently ripped from my scalp. Then I heard the hiss of extreme moisture evaporation, followed by the mephitic smell of burning hair. It took about 10 cycles of yank, hiss, FIRE!, yank, hiss, FIRE! for my sleep addled brain to realize this series of events wasn't a coincidence, and that said person was not using my flat iron.

"Are you using my flat iron?" I said staring at it sitting on the chair across from me, while maintaining a glimmer of hope that maybe it was someone in the next room who was having their hair fried, not me.

"No, my bad, I forgot." said said person. "Almost done now."

On the ride home I was absolutely livid, while euphorically enjoying the ability to flip my hair from the front of my face clear over my shoulder with just a twitch of my head.

Eventually the burnt tenament building smell faded, but I didn't know the extent of the damage til I tried to get my curls back. And they didn't come back. Well, some did, some didn't. The roots and the ends curled, while the middle decided it liked being straight better (unlike a couple of my exes.) My hair quickly started growing in, and soon I had a naturally curly hair underbrush, with very long haylike tendrils dangling from it. I had a nagging suspicion that this wasn't good. I went to my very dear friend for help.

"Oh baayby! Oooo the fuck did this to joo air?! Whu thee fuuck!" said my dear friend.

"So it's not that bad? whew." I non sequitured. "I just want it evened out a bit. There seems to be a few scraggly ends here and there, just make it a little rounder."

"A Few? Oh baayby, I'm so sorry this appened to joo. We'll grow it back together."

I should have heard between the lines, but I wasn't listening to him. I was listening to the conversation going on in the make believe land in my head in which my hair was never burnt, and he was saying "Baayby joo air iss soo ealthy I doan even need to cut it! It's so long! It's the longest air I ever saw!"

Meanwhile, in real life, he cut off 5 inches.

I know it's what needed to happen for my hair to be healthy again one day. But I still shrieked "Noooooooo!!!!!", grabbed two chunks of hair on either side and pulled with all my might, as if this action while pushing in on my belly button would grow my hair back fast as my Crissy doll's used to. It did not.

I love my dear friend for knowing what's best for me and my hair, and having the courage to do it, despite how I might feel about it. I hate him right now. Want to set his hair on fire hate him. But as my hair grows back stronger than ever, shiny and healthy and new, so will my love and friendship for him. I know it'll be sooner than I think, just the other day I caught my reflection and thought "If that hair were on some other girl's head, and not mine where all my hair used to be, I'd think it was kinda fly."

For now, I have an afro.

get over yourself, me.

2008-12-05T20:29:00.008-05:00

I spent this afternoon walking around and around Healdsburg Square feeling sorry for myself. My 5 New England layers were making the 65° day wicked uncomfortable. I only had 6 pages of my new book obsession left. I didn't want to go into my favorite stores because I am broke, because I am laid off because I live in America, the home of trendiest economic crisis in a dog's age. Woe is me.

I am not feeling alone, because this morning I heard that November saw the highest number of layoffs in the private sector in more than 32 years, with 533,000 jobs lost, (granted, I graduated from work in October, but that's just me being the early adopter that I am) so alone I am not. I am however feeling sad, because okay, I did go into one store and saw a pair of Juicy Couture plaid flats that are exactly what I have needed my whole life and I cannot have. Window shopping, I decide, is stupid and cruel abuse, and I won't have any part of it. I will go have lunch instead.

I walk around the square again looking for something to eat, and pass a texting youth sitting on a bench for the 8th time. He looks at me like I'm a little crazy, and I decide not to yell "You wouldn't know I've been going around in circles if you'd get your lazy ass up and do something besides text!" Not because it might be uncouth, I could care less about my couth at the moment, but because my husband is here on business and both of us can't be not working at the same time.

I go into Cafe Newsstand and order a turkey w/LTO & avocado on a wrap. I know Thanksgiving just passed, and I should be outraged at the very thought of eating turkey. I eat some kind of turkey sandwich every day, holiday or not, and that's that. The sweet girl behind the counter informs me that there are no wraps. I'm crushed. The bench youth probably texted her and told her there was an odd, laid off woman doing laps around the square and if she comes in, don't give her exactly what she wants, just cuz. I accept the multigrain choice and sit on a couch by a window. I finish my book before the sandwich comes and mope into space. The bookstore on the corner has the next book (okay, two stores), but I can't buy it til my unemployment check comes. I can't have the book, I can't have plaid flats and I can't have a wrap. wah :-(

While I wait for the sandwich I take out my camera and scroll through the pictures we've taken since we've been here. Beautiful rolling hills full of vines, good friends we've made out here, bountiful food, the bucolic view from the lovely room in the estate we are staying on. I keep scrolling, through older photos too, of good friends back home, our families together this Thanksgiving, a couple of comedy gigs, my husband lying in bed covered in Ugly Dolls (not his fault, all mine). I smile to myself as the sweet counter girl puts my sandwich in front of me. She smiles, too, and says "Enjoy," singsongy and pretty and like she sincerely means it. Maybe she really didn't have a wrap.

And maybe I don't have a wrap either, or plaid flats, or the next Sookie Stackhouse book, or a job. But I'll have another turkey sandwich tomorrow, maybe on a wrap, my check will be waiting for me when I get home and I'll buy then next book, and I'll have a job soon enough. In the meantime, I do have an amazing life full of love and family and friends and adventure, and a little bit of extra time to enjoy it all. I am feeling lucky.

I do totally still want those flats, though.

2008-11-27T12:01:00.000-05:00

i'm laid off and broke and having anxiety

2008-11-12T12:52:00.001-05:00

This blog is helping me deal.

www.lemondrop.com/category/cj-arabia

Thank you CJ!

this is a little funny, right?

2008-10-30T13:40:00.004-04:00

I got this message on Facebook from the place that just laid me off:

Hi Bethany!
Hope all is well! Just a small favor -- would you mind "becoming a fan" of [the place that just laid me off]? It's a way to keep you updated on some of the things we have going on here-- new menus, cocktail classes, bar specials, etc. [things I can't afford anymore because I am laid off]
xoxo,
******
ps - can you email me your show schedule updates? I'd really love to come to one of them. :)

I didn't send this reply:

Hey ******!

I'd love to but I'm SO busy looking for a job right now! Soon as I find one, 'kay? No hard feelings :-)

Best,
Bethany

PS. Another way to keep me updated would be to not lay me off. Oh well.

But I wanted to.

one of the multitude of reasons my birth city is so damn cool...

2008-09-29T17:20:00.003-04:00

This is just hanging out on a wall on Chrystie near Delancey:

what list is this?

2008-09-07T14:04:00.005-04:00

I found this list, written in my handwriting, in an old notebook. I don't remember writing it (no, I wasn't drunk, it is written very neatly), let alone ordering it, cooking it or eating it.

spaghetti
wine
salad
shrimp
coke
macaroni and cheese

Maybe it's a list of things I'm kinda indifferent about, but I'll eat if you give me. Except shrimp. And wine.

don't let me forget yoga

2008-09-03T13:04:00.007-04:00

Today I was meeting Maria for yoga at 5:45.

Last night I had a dream that I was meeting Maria for yoga at 5:45.

In the dream I was also hosting a cast party which was to start at 5:30, and I was a little nervous about the 2 overlapping. But the cast party was an excellent networking opportunity, so I had to do it. I was more than a little annoyed that my concern for my career health and my concern my spiritual health were trying to have a fight right in front of me. I decided that they are not the boss of me, I am the boss of me and I would do both. Network, and integrate my mind, body and soul.

I hosted the cast party very well, it was the best party ever. Jugglers, actors, caterers, a panda bear, everyone laughing and networking. I didn't even mind the tacky champagne fountain in the middle of the kitchen. "They must have been cool at some point!" I thought.

Everything was going so well that I ended up in a bedful of beautiful young women, explaining how if my mother weren't there, and I weren't married, I'd go home with that girl over there, not cuz I'm gay or anything, but because she had the best breasts. At which point Fonzworth Bentley walked over to me to say it was 7:15 and yoga would be over at 7:45.

I ran hither and thither trying to find my yoga mat. To my chagrin I realized that I didn't only forget to buy a yoga mat, and all about yoga. I also forgot I was supposed to be at my real job, teaching babies how to host in restaurants. Oh crikey! Maria is so yoga! She's going to think I'm such a loser for letting cast parties and great breasts and host baby training get in the way of the integration of my mind, body and soul!

I woke up very stressed out and very confused. I sat bolt upright and shouted "I forgot yoga!" then scanned my surroundings for clues. After a several moments of concentration, I gathered that the man sleeping next to me in my bed was in fact my husband and that I had been dreaming. My shout had woken him up. He watched me stare at him for a minute, then said "What?"

I said "Don't let me forget yoga." He said okay, asked if that was all, and went back to sleep.

Later on at work I was writing this blog post instead of confirming reservations when Maria called. What she said sounded something like she's taking this acting class and she's taken acting before, but this is a great teacher and she said she knows she's taken acting before but she wants her to do something else about acting before the acting class. What I heard was that she HAD to do this thing, for her career health.

"Please don't worry about it, I totally understand," I said. I couldn't explain to her how well I understood, what with the cast party, panda bear, Fonzworth Bentley and all. "We won't stop trying, we'll totally go to yoga together."

I know we will because of this; I have wanted to do yoga for years. I've tried many times to go to classes but always give it up because I am worried that the way I feel around people who "do yoga" isn't very yoga. I don't think wanting to scream into someones nostril "How can you not see how self centered, self important and retarded you are??!" is very yoga. I'm sure it isn't. But Maria is yoga. Very yoga. So it'll happen.

I decided that today will still be the beginning of the new chapter of the story of my attempts to do yoga. Before I hung up I asked her what she thought of a yoga show I've seen on TV a few times, is it any good, should I try it blah blah. She said "If you like it, do it."

Now that's some yoga shit. Thanks Maria!

fyi

2008-08-20T21:43:00.000-04:00

My husband drove me to work the other day, and I asked him to stop at Dunkin Donuts so I could get a coffee. Then I forgot how to speak good.

husband: Here, I have money for coffee. [hands me a $20]

me: That's too big. I have a $5.

husband: But your going to need money for a sandwich later.

me: I have another money for sandwich.

In case you know that I could walk the 5 blocks from my house to work, shush, he was getting in the car and driving past my work anyway.

In case you know that I work at a restaurant, sometimes I do prefer a nice shitty Dunkie's to fine Italian espresso.

In case you think I don't really speak good usually anyway, whatevs, I do.

i don't understand

2008-08-16T11:40:00.003-04:00

I can see how the baby left unattended might fall on his head, but why does the baby have to throw his own diaper away?

R.I.P. Bernie Mac

2008-08-11T21:11:00.004-04:00

This is how I found out Bernie Mac died.

My husband had to work at the Tanglewood Food and Wine Classic ( I know, poor him). We stayed at The Red Lion Inn, a very old historic inn that has been accomodating very rich white people since 1773. We sat in the last 2 seats on the very crowded porch and waited for a server. And waited. And waited. And waited. Our server was clearly inexperienced, and very weeded (restaurant speak for "screwed"), but was trying real hard, so we waited some more.

He finally got to us and asked what we'd like to drink. I asked him "What's this 'Master Quench' all about?" The drink description was Absolute, lemon, cayenne pepper, and maple syrup. Disgusting, yes. But we had a very long night of drinking ahead of us and it was only 7:00pm. The grosser the drink the less likely I'd finish it, let alone order another, my ridiculous logic informed me.

"Uh... no one's ever ordered it. Then 2 people ordered it today." he said. Must be going to the same party, I thought.

"Soooo...what did they say about it?" I asked, not at all meaning to pry, but curious nonetheless.

"They said it was okay." Sounds shitty.

"Good enough. I'll try it," excited that I indeed might not be drunk at 7:00pm.

He dropped it off, and came back a little later to find out how I liked it.

"All both of the others were right. It's okay," I said. "I think it should be called a 'Spicy Pancake Martini'."

He laughed really hard. A little too hard, really, I mean 'Spicy Pancake Martini' is funny, but if you tried the drink you'd see it was the only perfect name for it.

He laughed himself out, then said "So..." and looked over his shoulder. He turned back to me, leaned in a little and said "Did you know that Bernie Mac just died?"

I stared at him speechlessly, while my husband doubled over in laughter. "Really?" I squeaked. "That's crazy."

He said "I know," and walked away.

I sat for a moment contemplating his choice of current event to share with me. I think he just wanted to connect with me. Maybe what happened was "She's black, she's funny, she's probably sad about Bernie Mac, like I am."

And I am very sad about Bernie Mac. I am a big fan of his, as well as a comedian and black. I was also a Russian lit minor in college. How awesome would that have been if he said "So...did you know Solzhenitsyn just died?" I guess I don't look very Russian or tragic.

how do you all do it?

2008-07-28T14:46:00.002-04:00

These are all the things I have been trying to do simultaneously for the past 3 weeks:

-put together a kickass comedy show.
-promote a kickass comedy show.
-not let my hair fall out worry about the kickass comedy show.
-work on shows I'm doing with other kickass comics besides the ones in the 1st show.
-promote other comedy shows I'm supposed to be promoting.
-keep the house clean.
-keep at least a few pairs of undies for me and my husband clean.
-do dishes. Like even just silverware.
-make dinners.
-or order dinners if the making of them doesn't seems to be happening.
-get stage time for meself.
-perform.
-get better.
-write.
-remember to send thank you, get well, congrats, baby, and other such greeting cards.
-be a good friend.
-be a good family member.
-be a wife. any kind at this point.
-go for a long walk.
-see dark knight 2 more times.
-see hellboy 2 once.
-make money.
-answers stupid questions.
-act like the questions aren't stupid.
-maintain 2 blogs.
-okay, maintain even just one even just a little bit. Sorry Maria!
-see my family.
-make a dentist apointment before this tooth rots out.
-be green.
-care.
-stay positive.

No, really. How do you do it?

You are all my idols.

Now I will stop my infantile whining and get back to work.

Come to the show. Please.

if you actually read my blog

2008-07-23T11:36:00.002-04:00

I am the worst blogger ever. I've been very busy. And slacking and lazy. It's because excuse excuse excuse excuse and excuse.

I apologize.

More soon...

shame on me

2008-06-27T15:36:00.003-04:00

The other day I was walking down my street behind a couple of women. One had on plaid madras shorts, the other khaki shorts. Both had little strappy tank tops and long, straight, light colored ponytails. Because of these details, I decided that they were the exact same yuppie scum that has completely ruined my neighborhood, and because of that, decided I couldn't stand them. I decided to walk very fast and pass them, surely that would show them.

I did pass them, very fast, on the right. Their conversation was not at all the-

"Oh my god, so the nanny calls today and says "I'm sick" and I'm like "Oh my god! Seerioussssly? I have a mani/pedi, what am I supposed to do? And she's like "I have breast cancer" and I'm like "Oh my god! So you're not sick right now? Can't you just come watch Madison and Brianna for a few hours then so I can get my mani/pedi? I'll SO click on the pink ribbon website thing next time, PROMISE!"

-conversation I'm used to hearing in my neighborhood lately.

As I passed I noticed something in their hands. One had a bottle of prescription pills and was pouring them out into the other woman's hand.

"Oowhh waaaahhhhw. Theyaah bloo this taaaiiieeem," the handler said in the most supreme example of shitty Boston accent since that chick in "Gone Baby Gone".

"I nevaah saah that beefowah," responded the pourer, after which they both ate a handful of blue pills.

"Wow," I actually said out loud. I certainly didn't expect that. I walked down the block to my house, slightly shocked and kind of disappointed at myself for being so quick to judge and hate. They definitely were not the yuppie scum who ruined my neighborhood.

As I put my key in the door, I turned towards the street to have one more look at the women. As they passed one said to the other "That'll be SOOOOW much bettah, my back is fuckin killin me!" rubbing her 8 month pregnant belly.

"I know, this fuckin sucks!" said the other rubbing her 8 3/4 months pregnant belly. "This taaiieemz SOOOW much worse than when I was carryin Brianna! I hope this shit works as good as the Perks did."

I stood and stared til I pretended one said "Take a fuckin piichaah," to me, and went in the house.

I've thought long and hard about this experience and have come to this conclusion;

Don't be so damn quick to think someone is the yuppie scum
who ruined your neighborhood
Because you can never, EVER know
who
will where plaid madras shorts
and name there kids Brianna.

Ever.

R.I.P. George

2008-06-23T10:44:00.005-04:00

Thank you for everything.

so long.

NEVER hit send before you spell check and reread

2008-06-13T17:28:00.007-04:00

I wrote this typo-ridden, amped email to American Apparel after the dumbest retail experience ever. The last line is the best, I almost fell out of my chair laughing when I read it. After I sent it.

On Thursday, June 12, 2008 8:05 PM (Pacific Time) you submitted the following feedback to American Apparel:

I purchased 3 thong underwear to take traveling with me. I wore 2, when I opened the 3rd the elastic was unraveling and cotton was torn with holes. I put it back in the bag with the receipt and tried to exchange when I returned. i was told they don't exchange underwear. I said I understand but these weren't worn, the were defective. they repeated. i said yes, I understand your policy for health reasons, but the merchandise is defective, not worn, and I paid for them and I'd like another pair. i also was purchasing a body suit at the time. i was told the same again, and I told them that didn't make sens, i'd like to see a manager. We had the same call and response for 5 minutes. I said I would just take the body suit, but then decided not to give my money to a person who doesn't respect her customers. It is only an $8 pair of underwear, it isn't the price. It's that I bought a defective item and want it replaced, like any respectable retail store would do. I have worked in retail for many years, every store I have ever worked has ALWAYS exchanged a defective item. that experience was ridiculous, and not one I'd expect coming from this chain. i thought maybe the company would want to know that 1 of it's stores is being run by 11 year olds with no customer service experience. And I that I still would like to change my panties.

I got this response:

Hi Bethany, Thanks for reaching out to us. Quality control is our utmost concern and we would like you to be happy with your American Apparel merchandise. I know it does not excuse or make up for frustration, but I would like to offer you the opportunity to receive a replacement for your defective item. Let me know which location is most convenient for you to visit and I will notify the manager there to assist you in exchanging your defective piece. If you have any additional questions or concerns please feel free to contact me directly.

Kris Simms
Retail Operations

How cool is that? Customer service isn't dead. BTW, the Newbury St. store is the daycare. They were pretty decent at the Cambridge store.

And, yes, I did change my panties.

can anybody tell me what this means?

2008-06-10T10:46:00.002-04:00

This bit about Madonna appears in Vanity Fair. If you can tell me even way super vaguely what in the hell it means, I will bake one dozen raisin scones for you.

Speaking of things that cause suffering, Madonna touches on the subject of her onetime tongue-tangling partner Britney Spears, labeling the situation "very painful."

"When you think about the way people treat each other in Africa," she posits to the magazine, "about witchcraft and people inflicting cruelty and pain on each other, then come back here and, you know, people taking pictures of people when they're in their homes, being taken to hospitals, or suffering, and selling them, getting energy from them, that's a terrible infliction of cruelty. So who's worse off?"

uuhhh....me for having read that shite?

my favorite phone call today 2

2008-06-03T11:15:00.009-04:00

caller: Hi. I heard you guys serve a whole roasted fish?

me: Yes, we do.

caller: How is that prepared?

me: It's roasted, sir.

caller: What kind of fish is it?

me: Typically it's branzino, but we will serve the freshest fish available that day if we aren't able to get branzino.

caller: Do you ever serve a whole roasted sea bass?

me: No, sir, typically we don't roast whole sea basses.

happy birthday brooklyn bridge!

2008-05-28T10:36:00.006-04:00

she looks just as good from underneath.

i have nothing against turtles, but...

2008-05-12T17:28:00.004-04:00

Last night I dreamt that I was turning into a turtle. I was very unhappy about it. First of all, it was kinda icky. I also didn't think my husband would stay with me if I kept turning into a turtle. I was wimpering, and about to get full on hysterical when my doctor walked over to me and screamed "If you stop smoking cigarettes, you won't turn into a turtle!!" right into my weepy, turtle face.

I woke up sweaty and panicked, but thank god, I wasn't even a little bit a turtle! That made me want to go celebrate with a cigarette. But I didn't do it, in gratitude of still being human. I hope I quit again soon. I don't want to be a turtle.

even erikah badu wants a picture of erikah badu

2008-05-10T12:52:00.006-04:00

?uestlove spinning at Underbar after the Erikah Badu/Roots concert, Orpheum Boston 5/8/08

mmmmm........

2008-05-01T10:42:00.003-04:00

Try it. You'll love it.

(you guys rock!)

The True Story of Sunday

2008-04-28T11:52:00.005-04:00

We went to Stella for brunch with a friend
who hates grocery shopping as much as we do,
but we still needed to grocery shop.
So after brunch,
to pre-reward ourselves for a job we will have done well later,
we went to Wrentham Outlets.
My husband said my budget was half of my tax rebate,
Thank you for something Bush!
(cuz with the rest he said I'd be responsible
and save it or pay something. yeesh.)
I got 2 pairs of blue jeans,
since I have 3 pairs of black ones already.
One are very skinny, one very wide leg
like the trendy stars are wearing.
The outlet stores closed
and we had to admit it was time to grocery shop.

We went to stupid Stop and Shop
We decided we had 1/2 hour
to get everything we needed, or else,
well we never figured that part out.
The store was ravaged,
as if the zombies finally came
so everyone bought everything,
in case they stayed for a long time
and no one could shop for a while.
But we did it.
We did it, yay! 28 minutes to be exact.
So to celebrate we went right back to Stella
for a victory cocktail,
and stayed for pizza, sausage and short ribs.
And mango martinis for dessert.

The moral of the story is,
if you hate grocery shopping,
you should have brunch with us on a Sunday.
You might not make it to the Xmas Tree Shop,
but you might get jeans,
and you mos def will get cocktails.

the end.

where do turkeys go when they leave the south end?

2008-04-10T18:26:00.002-04:00

When I left my house today to go to work, I was shocked 2 times in rapid succession. Firstly, it was 70 degrees at 9:30am, while it was 35 degrees yesterday. Secondly, standing right in front of my door was a bird the size of a 3 year old child.

I live in the middle of the city, in an apartment building, so I was very surprised (ya think?) by the sight of a giant bird in my way. I jumped backwards, which apparently agitated the bird, and he started to flap like a maniac. Or just a bird, I guess. In any case he flew only slightly better than I do, and only made it to about 1 foot above and away from my head. He hovered there for 10 seconds or so, then suddenly looked like in any of the next few seconds he might trip on some air and fall on my head. Instead, however, he managed to fly up to the sign over the laundromat next to my building, where there was another 3-year-old-child sized bird sitting waiting for him.

I stood frozen, gawking at the giant birds, when a gentleman who has seen better days saw me paralyzed and offered an explanation. "They are peacocks," he said, "helluvah thing, them being right there."

"Peacocks?" I repeated. He didn't exactly look homeless, but maybe 4 minutes away from it. So I decided he was a veteran, and because of that, believed him without a shadow of doubt. The veteran said it was a peacock, it has to be a peacock. I don't know why.

"I pretty sure someone stole them and put them right here, because peacocks are endangered." he continued. Not because peacocks don't live here, mind you, but he was a veteran so it was so. "I'm worried they'll get hit by a car, because they need to live in a zoo."

"Should I call the zoo?" I swear I said.

"I called the cops," he said, "they'll know what to do," the cops will, cuz cops know stuff about peacocks. As do veterans.

When I got to work, I immediately did not one thing I was supposed to, but instead Googled 'peacock' images, male and female. They didn't look like the birds in question. So I Googled 'turkey', because I happen to know that turkeys actually do live in parts of the state, and sure enough, the birds were female turkeys. The veteran was wrong, but who cares?! he's a veteran so shut up!

It's a miracle I managed to confirm all 113 resevations, my brain was so boggled with questions; how did the turkeys get there? Could they have actually flown, from the little I saw they sucked at flying. Did they walk? If so, did they walk down the expressway, or side streets? Was everyone just cool with that? Did someone really steal them and leave them there, even though they were not peacocks? The veteran must have known we have turkeys here, why did he think they were peacocks? Why did I think he was a veteran?

The greek lady who owns the laundromat was sitting out in front of it when I came home. Just her, no turkeys.

"What happened to the turkeys?" I asked.

"They gone, ahney." she said. That's how she says 'honey'. Ahney.

"They just left?" I said.

"They just left. They there, poof, they gone, ahney."

"That's so weird." I said.

"It's so byootifow, ahney. It's byootifow." she corrected me, "nahthing to think abow, tahney."

She's right, I suppose, there's no need to over think it. It was pretty cool. Just a couple turkeys hanging out on my block in the city for the day. They were much more awe inspiring than pigeons. Or stupid seagulls. I hope they got to where they were going safely.

There may even be a lesson in the whole thing. The veteran thought the birds were peacocks, and I thought the guy was a veteran. Something, something, eye of the beholder, something, something. I'll figure it out later. I HAVE to find out how far a turkey can fly.

magnet

2008-03-31T11:52:00.002-04:00

I was at work today, confirming reservations, like I always do between 11 and 1, Monday - Thursday. Sometimes the reservations have guest notes attatched, sometimes to indicate that the guest is a very special person, and therefore allowed to behave like an entitled ass while in the restaurant. One such note today said "VIP, real estate magnet". I wonder which substances in real estate he attracts. Is he just attracting the iron, like a regular old magnet? Is it the location he attracts? Maybe sound construction? Unique architectural design?

I know I can change the note, and make it say "magnate", but I've left it the way it is. Partially because I feel uncomfortable correcting people, but mostly because I am a douchebag, and therefore sometimes behave like one at work. I really wish I weren't. I'd rather be a real estate magnet.

happy st. patrick's day!

2008-03-17T12:15:00.002-04:00

I made my hubby an irish breakfast fry, and raisin scones for St. Patrick's Day breakfast. I can be a good wife. Sometimes.

copasetic

2008-03-10T13:02:00.002-04:00

It's almost spring.

10 more days.

I know we will still get a big, fat Nor'Easter first week of April, and that flip flops are still months away (for us girls of color, I know many girls of the fairer persuasion will start wearing them right after the big Nor'Easter). But it's March, which if you recall, comes in like a lion, goes out like a lamb. So I retain hope of it really happening that way every year. Call me silly.

No, really, do. I like it.

a love story for leap day

2008-02-29T15:50:00.005-05:00

Mostly anytime someone previously unmet spends quality time with my husband, they fall in love with him. This invariably leads to someone asking me “How did you get him?” Please note, the emphasis is always on the ‘YOU’, spoken in an incredulous, YOU-who-sweeps-cinders??, nuH-uH, kinda tone, and the ‘HIM’ sung in an angelic chorus sorta way. Whatever their point is. For the first time ever, I will respond to this question in an honest and truthful manner

This is how I got HIM;

It was incredibly simple; We were hiking through Denmark, I asked him to marry me, it was Leap Day, he didn’t have 12 pairs of gloves. Done. Mine. End of story.

Happy Leap Day!

the best possible response

2008-02-27T10:46:00.004-05:00

Today's selection for my morning serenade to my husband was "Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves". He was less than impressed as I started singing, so I put more heart into it than usual. I belted it out like Cher did when she was young, and blessed with many wigs, walking backwards infront of him so he could see the urgency of my ballad.

"GYYYYPSIES, TRAMPS AND THIEVES! We hear it from the people of the town they call us, GYYYYPSIES, TRAMPS AND THIEVES! But every niiight the men they'd come around, (pause pause pause), and lay our women down."

My tres empathetic man looked me square in the eye and said, "I know. I know."

Love him.

a bad mother and a very reasonable baby

2008-02-19T13:18:00.007-05:00

I had a dream that I had a baby. I put him on a bed upstairs, then went back downstairs to rejoin the party that was going on. After a little while someone asked me where the baby was.

"Upstairs," I said. The person looked at me kind of strangely. Maybe because the baby was newborn, like brand new, maybe that same day. "I guess I should feed him or something, huh?" I said. "Yeah, maybe."

I went upstairs and found him where I left him, face down on a big double bed, wearing a blue onsey I don't remember buying.

"You hungry, you wanna eat something?" I asked him.

"Okay." he said. I picked him up and looked around for some food. "I guess this is what there is," and pointed to my boobs.

"Okay." he said. I took a few minutes trying to figure out how to get him on my nipple. I did so, but very awkwardly.

"So....a bunch of us are going to go get some Christmas tree ornaments later. Wanna go?"

He shrugged. "Okay," he said.

"I'm sorry I'm a little weird. I just left you there face down, didn't feed you or anything. I haven't even gone shopping for you yet. I don't know what I was thinking. I think I didn't bond with you yet or something."

"It's okay," he said "You will. You'll get the hang of it. I'll help you."
He looked me right in the eye with his little eyes and I thought "What a reasonable baby."

I took him downstairs to meet everyone. He let people carry him and dote on him for a little while before he said, "Can I see my mother for a while?" They gave him back to me. He put his little head on my arm, and his beautiful tiny little hand on mine, and I fell in love with him right then.

a couple of pointers regarding making a dinner reservation

2008-02-01T14:00:00.000-05:00

1) When you call a restaurant for a reservation it is very helpful if you have some faint notion of what day, how many people, and what time you would like the reservation for. That way the host will be able to help you more quickly and efficiently, and won't think you are an idiot.

2) Typically, when you ask for a table at 8:00 and a host replies "I am terribly sorry, I only have availability at 5:30 and then again at 10:30," that means she only has availability at 5:30 then again at 10:30. It almost never means at 7:45, or 8:15, or even 8:30, although customs do vary from country to country.

3) As of this writing, insulting, belittling, or yelling at a host has never gotten anyone anything closer to what they were trying to get before this behavior. Unless you were trying to get blacklisted, or worse yet, "squeezed in" at 9:00 only to have a loyal bartender stick his penis in your cocktail while you wait an hour and a half for your table.

4) Just because a menu doesn't have a vegan option doesn't mean vegans aren't welcome. It just means there isn't a vegan option on the menu. Many times there aren't enough vegans eating daily at a restaurant to warrant a vegan option. But since cooks generally know how to cook, and enjoy cooking, they will be glad to cook one up for you when you arrive. Veganism is a choice YOU made, cooking with meat and dairy products is a choice our ancestors made, thousands of years ago BTW. Embrace your choice to be different, and leave traditionalists alone. Or start eating at your favorite restaurant every day, to warrant the addition of a vegan option.

5) Just because a restaurant doesn't have high chairs, doesn't mean babies aren't welcome. It means the restaurant doesn't have high chairs. Yelling at a host "WHO doesn't have high chairs?!" is poor manners, and may lead him/her to answer "Well for starters, WE don't have high chairs, but apparently YOU won't have high chairs either." Under no circumstances will it inspire a host to build a high chair for you. And although the absence of high chairs doesn't necessarily mean babies aren't welcome, do know that most restaurants with "Cheese" somewhere in the name definitely always have high chairs.

my favorite phone call today

2008-01-30T16:56:00.000-05:00

bob: Hi, I'd like to make a reservation for 8 people for tomorrow night [Saturday] at 8:00.

me: I'm terribly sorry, sir, tomorrow evening my earliest availability for a party of 6 or more is 10:00.

bob: Maybe you didn't hear me, I said I want a table at 8:00 for 8 people.

me: I know, I am so sorry. My earliest availability is 10:00. Would you like me to put you on a waitlist?

bob: No! What I want is to speak with a smarter host. Is there a smarter host I can speak with?

me: Unfortunately, sir, there won't be a smarter host in today, nor this evening, only me, but if you call back first thing in the morning tomorrow, there most certainly will be a smarter host [me]. Shall I take a message for her?

10 things from home i missed while in Mexico not

2008-01-24T18:06:00.000-05:00

1) margarita's made with margarita mix.
2) phone calls.
3) cop car sirens.
4) yoga bitches. no, wait. they were everywhere.
5) dog people.
6) alley chatter.
7) myspace.
8) rock of love season 2.
9) young drunk girls puking outside my apartment door.
10) 23 degrees farenheit, 4 degrees with the wind chill factor.

in the meantime...

2008-01-03T17:53:00.000-05:00

We're going back to Tulum, to soak up more sun, drink more micheladas, and forget this frigid shit. All the Marshall's shoe bargins, and all the Harry O's toasted italian sub deliveries that I have forsaken this year are finally going to pay off, when I'm wiggling my toes in the cool coral sand, sipping a Don Julio reposado. Why do people live norther than here? People had to pass through here-ish to get to the colder places, didn't any of them go "Goddamn, if it gets any colder than this my nipples are going to explode into a cloud of ice-dust! I will NOT go any norther!"?

And why do people call very thin people "skinny"? I know it's supposed to be because they are "all skin and bones", but if you think about it, the larger the person, the more skin they have covering their person. Doesn't it make more sense to call larger people "skinny" cuz they got more skin going on? I'm going to go pack my last 2 bikinis while I think about it.

I'll be back just in time for this show. So you have from now until January 26th to get a sitter, find some ladies to come out with you, and check out Michelle Buteau and Susan Alexander's clips, so you aren't blindsided by their fierceness. And Maria Ciampa? Faggaddaboutit. Come, I promise I won't flaunt my tan. Even if I do, you can make fun of the rate at which it is shedding off and pooling at my ankles.

okay, at least I got this going for me

2007-12-28T12:45:00.000-05:00

93%

look at this for now.

2007-12-15T10:43:00.000-05:00

my computer is in the hospital, since Thanksgiving. At first we thought it was just a virus, but it isn't looking so good now. It's hard drive is old and tired and deteriorating by the minute. So, no more 3500 pics of my sweet and funny life, no more jokes waiting to be worked on, no more blogging. for now. But in the meantime...

oh, comedy!

2007-11-06T00:24:00.000-05:00

Something about hearing Jerry Seinfeld talk about comedy makes me:

a) feel validated. He is Jerry Seinfeld, and yet apparently still as obsessed with and tortured about the process as anyone.

b) want to quit. He is Jerry Seinfeld, and yet apparently still as obsessed with and tortured about the process as anyone.

c) be proud to be a comedian.

happy halloween!

2007-10-31T16:26:00.000-04:00

from our 2005 annual pumpkin carving contest award winning pumpkin. and us.

some of our movie collection in order as it appears on the shelf

2007-10-29T16:55:00.000-04:00

Star Wars IV-VI: Limited Edition
Matrix Trilogy: Limited Edition
Animatrix
Shrek 2
Finding Nemo
Iron Monkey
Gigli
The Aviator
The Simpson's: Complete 6th Season
Kid Stays in The Picture
Zoolander
Spiderman
SNL Best of Chris Farly
BS! Penn & Teller
Napoleon Dynamite
Anchorman
Sin City
The Waterboy
Bad Santa
Pootie Tang
Gladiator
A Clockwork Orange
300

improv class has taught me 3 things already

2007-10-26T16:03:00.000-04:00

1) how to keep my shit together while i am freakin' the fuck out.

2) some people are just funny from scratch.

3) i am autistic.

sunday car ride

2007-10-21T13:18:00.000-04:00

boston comedy festival change...

2007-10-04T18:43:00.000-04:00

We've been moved to NICK'S COMEDY STOP

It's still Tuesday October 9th, 8:30pm.

Please come by, it'll be a great time!!

on the slide side-by-side

2007-09-29T22:50:00.000-04:00

i quit

2007-09-22T12:07:00.000-04:00

I left this letter on my boss' desk on Friday.

"Hi *****,

It was really bizarre to be in the office alone all day, and when Mr. ****** left I got really creeped out sitting there with the empty elevator opening and closing, so I went home at 3:30. I have had this strange day to do alot of thinking and I have come to the conclusion that it isn't working out for me here at ****** Co. It isn't any one thing, but rather several things, that individually would be tolerable, but all together make a very unpleasant work situation.

I find the general atmosphere of the office to be very unfriendly. There are friendly people, but there are many more rude people. I always make it a point to say 'good morning' and 'good night', and am very often met with blank stares, and no comment. I get snapped at by both execs and admins when I deliver calls. I've had an exec growl and hang up on me. I can't see the need for such rudeness, the job is stressful, but it isn't like they're saving lives.

Every corner you turn there is a little pod of people complaining and whispering, and finger-pointing. It reminds me of high school, not an office where adults work. It is a truly bizarre environment.

I hesitated to leave like this, but realized sitting here all alone, while the whole "company" is at the "company meeting", that I don't think anyone really feels like I am part of the company, myself included, so it would probably be fine. I really like you and ****, and hope you understand. I'd love to stay in touch with you, and have you come to a show sometime. Email me if you're okay with that.

I took the mail downstairs, and sent the UPS off. My password to my email is "Welcome1$", so ****** can go in and get the itineraries for next week. I think that's all I was working on, but call me if there is something I forgot.

Take care, *****. And thank you for the opportunity.

Sincerely,
Bethany Van Delft"

Yay!

owen wilson

2007-08-29T22:14:00.001-04:00

I'm sad about Owen Wilson. I can't believe he is a heroin addict. He's so funny and witty and off the cuff. Not that heroin addicts aren't. I don't mean to discriminate against heroin addicts. I just never would have guessed.

He must have hurt really bad to try to commit suicide. I don't think he really wanted to die though. He cut across the wrist. People who really want to die cut down the arm. I think he wanted someone to notice how bad he hurt. Not in a "I need attention!!" kinda way. I do think he really hurt. I don't mean to discriminate against suicide attempts who don't really want to die rather just want someone to notice how bad they hurt. I mean, at least he did it.

i'm sharing

2007-08-06T18:50:00.000-04:00

My husband imparted this keen bit of wisdom on me yesterday. I am passing it along.

"Suburu drivers rarely drive like assholes. Or speed. Unless they're driving a Suburu WRX."

i was part of history

2007-07-31T13:43:00.001-04:00

The Police at Fenway Park.

will she ever stop?

2007-07-15T10:59:00.000-04:00

Look who Madonna is trying to adopt now...

the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker

2007-07-13T12:41:00.000-04:00

If those guys were around today, the butcher and the baker would have their choice of good jobs. But the candlestickmaker would be working for Yankee Candle, or unemployed. Which sucks for him, because he was pretty much Con Edison back in the day.

test

2007-07-11T11:46:00.000-04:00

I slit a sheet, a sheet I slit, and on the slitted sheet I sit. I slit a sheet, a sheet I slit, and on the slitted sheet I sit. I slit a sheet, a sheet I slit, and on the slitted sheet I sit. I slit a sheet, a sheet I slit, and on the slitted sheet I sit.

Nope. Doesn't work the same when you write it.

myspace update

2007-06-27T23:09:00.000-04:00

My account works now.

Please disregard the last post.

And be my friend.

i am a loser, but not for the reasons I thought

2007-06-25T12:13:00.001-04:00

On June 19, 2007 AD (or CE if you are jewish) I, Bethany Van Delft, opened a Myspace account. After all my pontificating, criticising, excuse making bblahbblaahlablah, I just went and did it.

I did it because all of the younger, funnier comedians told me it is necessary, not only for networking, but because all the agents, managers, networks, etc. look at that kind of thing. I did it because everywhere I went, every show I did, every comic or fan of comedy I met asked if I was on Myspace. In a word, I did it because everyone's doing it.

And what I found is that the loser I was afraid of becoming for being on Myspace "at my age", pales in comparison to the loser I feel like for
1) just now getting on it, 20 years after the fact. I feel like my grandma getting one of those new-fangled cell phone.
2) having to fumble my way around it. Pimp my Profile? There's no button to make my page orange?
3) having to "ask" people to be my friend. What if no one wants to be my friend?
4) worrying that no one will want to be my friend.

I've never really cared so much about people wanting to be my friend. Let me rephrase that; I've never allowed myself to think about if people want to be my friend or not, lest I become a suicidally depressed shut-in. I've just gone about my business, trying to be a good friend to the ones I have, and being very pleasantly surprised when someone new wants to be one.

So what a smack in the face is it that my account is broken? I cannot post bulletins, or send messages, but most devastatingly of all, I cannot request friends. People can ask me to be their friend. But no one knows I'm on it after all my crying about never getting on it, so no one is asking me. So when anyone looking for me on Myspace finds me they will find that I have 3 friends, and 1 is Tom. And yes, much to my chagrin, I am thinking about it, and I do care.

You know what really pisses me off? How many times has Myspace tempted me and I said no? Ten thousand times! And finally, FINALLY I cut it some slack, ask around, find out it's not so bad, it'll actually help me, decide to give it a shot, and BAM!!! It's a douchebag!!!

It seemed so sincere. It asked for my name, my email address, what I like blah, blah, blah. Not a bad start I think. It asked if I want everyone to know about us, or just friends, wow how considerate! Then, as I start to think "hey this isn't so bad! What took me so long?!", I try to make friends and IT WON'T LET ME HAVE ANY FRIENDS!!!! I try and try thinking, "It can't really be like that. It's all about friends. It told me "if you were with me you could invite all your friends, make new ones..." but NO!!! No matter what I do it won't let me. Sure, people can ask me, but how long will that last without reciprocity?

So I sent an email it to ask what is wrong. Did I do something wrong? How can I fix it? I sent 1 email, no answer. Then I sent 2, then 3. I sent 10 emails, and still no answer. Finally, it changed the screen, and now the email won't even go thru. I even tried to email Tom, just to see if he knew what happened. And guess what? That douchebag Tom isn't 'accepting any email right now'!!!

I got so frustrated I wanted to punch my computer in the face. But I realize that would be so shitty, because my computer didn't do anything to me. It's just sitting there, trying to be helpful, and I'm taking my hurt and anger with Myspace and Tom out on it. I'm sorry Mac-y. You're the best.

I guess it's my own fault. I knew not to get involved. I could see the potential for a bad time. I squawked and squawked about it. Then I promptly forgot all of my reasons for not going there in the first place. And now here I am, frustrated, consumed with finding out what went wrong, almost alone, if it weren't for my only 2 real friends, (screw you, Tom.)

I get the jokes I've heard about Myspace now. And I'm starting to understand the Myspace culture, from experience, not postulation. I am mad at Myspace, but now I have reasons why. And I'm learning that so many people feel the same way. I feel validated. I feel like suddenly I'm in a new club, like I'm a part of something bigger than me. Like I have friends. That feels good.

Thank you Myspace!

PS. If you request me as a friend, I promise I'll accept!

PPS. What the hell is "Facebook"?

is this a casting call for "To Catch a Predator"?

2007-06-18T15:41:00.001-04:00

I just saw this posting on Craigslist:

"Seeking child care provider, with car, who can pick up my 13-year old daughter from day camp at 3:00 PM, bring her home, and spend a couple of hours with her before I get home from work. Live in Brookline and camp is a couple of miles from home - easy drive. Need is 5 days per week (Monday to Friday) from July 9th to August 3rd. $15 per hour.

Please reply to email if you are interested."

Some rapid fire thoughts I had:
Where is the Parent Police when you need them?

When did Craigslist start a "Child Pimp" category?

Parents should have to go for inspection every year, like cars and restaurants, just to make sure they are still running good and not dirty.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Hey Parent, why not save $15/hr by looking on the sex offender registry for someone right in your neighborhood?

Dumb, dumb, stupid, bad parent, bad. No Mother's Day or Father's Day for you this year.

Maybe I'm being too harsh and ethno-centric: maybe on other planets, going on the Internet to find someone to sit with your 13 year old girl alone for a few hours sounds like a good idea.

I can see how it seemed like a good idea at the moment, like foie gras ice cream might have.

Straight outta the Britney School of Parenting!

Oh, Chris Hansen, I really hope you are this much of a sly dog!

he's just trying to help

2007-06-15T16:05:00.000-04:00

I was sitting on the couch with the husband and we had this conversation:

me: I never got that whole autograph thing. Why the hell does anyone want an autograph? It doesn't prove you met the person. It just proves you know how to scribble. I'd never stand around for hours signing autographs for people, like Kathy Griffin does. That looks so sucky.

him: Yeah, but when you get to the place where people actually want to see you, you just gotta do it.

me: Well, then, hopefully I'll never get to that place.

the sopranos final episode take 2

2007-06-11T19:15:00.000-04:00

Okay, I've had some time to think about it.

Maybe it's pretty goddamn brilliant.

There was no one way to end it, so it just stopped. No trying to tie up loose ends, or make anything make sense, or give any closure. No answer to where the guy at Pine Barrens got off to, or why Carmella was obsessing about Adrianna, or why the old guy's perfectly young, healthy goomar just died in her sleep. You got all your gonna get. And just in case you wanna complain about all those loose ends, here's a freaky cat.

No ending would have made any of us happy. Just go on and think about any of them; AJ goes to war and dies, Meadow dies, Tony lives, Carmella dies or lives. Tony dies, and Paulie did it, or AJ did, or Carmella maybe, or the guy from Pine Barrens. It's all a dream, and the ducks are still there. No, no ending wouldn't have been the perfect ending, the masterpiece we all wanted it to be at the very end.

So go on and think whatever you want to think. What happened next is whatever you think should have happened. It doesn't matter. You don't get to see anymore. The tape ran out, the battery died. The kids are still jumping on the trampoline as we speak, singing kooky songs, there's just no more footage. You can't peek through the shrubs anymore.

Maybe it really is, seriously, pretty goddamn brilliant.

No. It just fucking sucks. I want my 7 years back. Well, my 1 year, 8 months and 2 weeks really. Assholes. Fuck that. I am NEVER, EVER watching that goddamn show again, FOR REAL this time, I SWEAR!! Thanks for that at least, David Chase!

Does anyone know when the new season of 24 starts?

the sopranos final episode

2007-06-11T11:58:00.000-04:00

what the FUCK??!!

can I take a mulligan?

2007-06-09T14:48:00.000-04:00

This is how I should have posted this picture the first time...

Little did Bethany know that decades later she really would be an "unknown comic".

it's not that i have no focus...

2007-06-04T13:21:00.000-04:00

I'm just a very curious person. I am what some call a 'renaissance woman'. This is a list of the jobs I've had:

hostess
coat check girl
window display artist
advocate for the mentally ill
house painter
restaurant manager
layout editor
garde manger
model
server
security for political rallies
make up counter girl
go go dancer
office manager
shoe store cashier
sign maker
late night chef
guest list girl
local cable access tv host
faux (not fake) jewelry sales associate
free lance writer
bartender
accounting clerk (for Sack Theatres, only because "Purple Rain" was coming out soon, and I knew I would have to see it everday)
visual display/stock girl
temp
free lance illustrator
art gallery assistant
google ad writer
event producer
clothing store clerk
in-traffic flower seller
comedian

Actually, come to think of it, if I were really a renaissance woman, I'd be suffocating in a corset and powdered wig, getting defiled by some nasty old duke in a drawing room, much to my chagrin. eew.

Rather, a-hem, what I meant to say was, I knew from a very young age that I wanted to be a comedian, and that each and every experience in life would only make me stronger, and give me more fodder for my comedy, so I should grab each and every last one by the horns, and ride it to the end.

Yeah, that's the ticket.

when i was 17...

2007-05-30T14:24:00.001-04:00

This is a picture my big sister sent to me, of me at home having my morning Pepsi, with my father sitting next to me reading the paper. He isn't ignoring me, as much as he doesn't really know I'm sitting there. I don't even know what else to say.

she really means it.

2007-05-22T11:00:00.000-04:00

When I saw my mother's car this mother's day, it was mysteriously not the one shade of blue it usually is, but very obviously two shades of blue. The front right quadrant is midnight blue, while the whole rest of the car is a metallic, misty pale blue. The back quadrant is smooshed in and scratched up.

When I saw it, my heart stopped a little. I couldn't help but think of something horrible happening to my mommy, even though she was clearly fine and standing right next to me. And she didn't even call me to tell me. When I asked her what happened, this is the conversation we had.

me: Holy crap!! What the HELL happened to your car?!

mommy: I didn't do it.

me: What do you MEAN you didn't do it?! It looks like a Transformer with a giant sardine can key got it! Are you okay? Did you get hurt? What happened?!

mommy: I didn't do it.

me: WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?

mommy: I was trying to do something, and a Jersey barrier got in my way.