Friday, December 31, 2004


I have compiled some links regarding the Tsunami disaster and put them here. I've read some very heart breaking accounts on people's blogs. If you are curious about the Tsunami, want to learn more about it, want to contribute money or time or some kind of help, these are the links I have found.








I can't exactly encompass in my brain the amount of death and suffering that is going on in Phuket. I see 120,000 dead as a tragic number, but felt very disassociated because I'm so far away and safe and warm. So, I started looking online to see if I could find any information that wasn't as emotionally dead as a news source delivery. I found the above sites and visited them all. I have many strangers nightmares and heartbreak in my thoughts. If I were God, I never would have let this happen. Please visit some of these links if you can, to help you get a better idea of the situation, so you too aren't disassociated.

Sunday, December 26, 2004

from US NEWS Magazine

Everyone wants to know how to make their life better, aside from murdering their co-workers and/or joining the occult (I mean, going to church.)

US NEWS had some good advice (in addition to some incredibly, incredibly lame advice) but I've done all the straining of the advice and have chosen the ones which make the best sense to ME. (I've also added notes in parenthesis...)

Happy 2005.

According to US NEWS Magazine

MEDITATE (Madonna does it!)
ORGANIZE CLUTTER (If you want to...)
DO LESS HOUSEWORK (That's more of a what NOT to do...)
QUIT YOUR DAY JOB (Again, more of what NOT to are gay.)
STIMULATE YOUR BRAIN WITH GAMES, LIKE CHESS OR CROSSWORDS (Don't play in the park, those guys are hustlers! They memorize master's moves! Slick, huh?)
GROW A PLANT (MARIJUANA! or, um, a tomato.)
READ MORE (Survivor! by Chuck Palahniuk [author of Fight Club])
FUCK MORE (They say that includes masturbation!)
FIX YOUR FINANCES (They recommend freezing your credit cards in ziplock bags.)
HAVE AN EMERGENCY PLAN (In case of a terrorist attack!)
ORGANIZE YOUR COMPUTER (I think they mostly mean the porn.)
GET MARRIED (Awww....)
WEAR A BIKE HELMET (They say it helps.)
HANG OUT WITH NATURE (Go to the cloisters or Vermont)
TAKE VITAMINS (not on an empty stomach!)
VOLUNTEER (That means help people for free.)
FORGIVE (Even if you don't want to.)

Saturday, December 25, 2004

Christmas - SHITfest or ASSparty?

Well, this is probably the fifth or sixth Christmas in a row that I have not been given a Christmas present from a boyfriend.

I shouldn't be too upset, in that case. I should be used to it by now, right? I'm kind of not that upset, I was a lot upset earlier, but I feel better now. However, I kind of agree with him for not getting me anything.

I think that Christmas is an over-produced day of gluttony. It gives all of America an excuse to SHOP, all of America's children (and adults, unfortunately) an excuse to be GREEDY and SELFISH and WANT, and hides it all under an incredibly thinly-veiled series of 'good intentions' such as feeding the homeless, (for now) pleasing loved ones (for the time being!) and giving of yourself (as long as you're getting something in return!) Then, there's the whole Jesus-thing, like that has anything to do with anything. And there's also the Santa maneur. (Did you know that Christmas was actually invented by an author, accidentally? There was a scene in the book that described a huge celebration. He created the whole decorating the tree tradition, the gift exchanging premise, singing, egg nog, all that shit. Thanks a lot, Dickinson, you dick.

However, I also love Christmas. Who doesn't love glittering lights on stranger's lawns? Who hates getting gifts? Who doesn't like giving presents to people, even if you aren't getting anything in return? There is something fulfilling in that. Who doesn't like to work at a food shelter or do something selfless to help people who have less than them? And when Christmas after Christmas after Christmas comes and goes and I don't get to enjoy those tiny happinesses, it can be pretty sad.

I spent most of Christmas today crying and fighting, and I'm kind of ashamed of myself. I was upset with my boyfriend because he didn't get me anything for Christmas. He had started to make me a card, which he hadn't finished yet, and after I complained for a few hours, he drew me a picture, finished the card and made me a third piece of art. The things he made me were quite lovely, his handmade treats are always very special. They were better than any crap that some jerk could have bought me at a store. I didn't even send presents to my relatives, because I wanted to give them presents that had some personality to them, not just nail clipper sets and CDs. So, I have been gathering supplies and ideas to make them gifts. But it's not easy to make gifts, either. It's time consuming, and complicated sometimes.

This year, I gave my boyfriend the new Jon Stewart book, some gum, some chocolate covered Oreos (yummy!), a hand-made anti-Christmas ornament. (It's really special - it's a tree on one side and Jesus on a cross on the other. It has a hole at the top and a piece of yarn tied through so it can hang. On one side it says "Merry Tree Death" and on the other, it says "Merry Bloody Jesus". It's truly lovely.) I also got him some new, pretty underwear, and a BEAUTIFUL gold shirt with rhinestone buttons on it. The shirt is a vintage Saks Fifth Avenue shirt, and I found it in a boutique for $6. Finally, I made him a tape full of songs mostly about him that I wrote. I think I did very well for him, and I was really pleased with myself for doing nice things for him, yet not spending too much money or time. I didn't spend more than $30 on all his presents.

Last year, we didn't give eachother presents, but we hadn't been dating very long, only about two months. I thought we'd talk about it, maybe, like if we should give eachother gifts this year or not, but we never did.

He asked me what I wanted for Christmas (yesterday) and I didn't say anything. He asked me today when I was crying what I would have wanted, and I said an engagement ring. He said he thought that was sweet, but later said that any woman who wants diamonds doesn't deserve them. I agree with him, kind of, but at the same time, I don't care if an engagement ring has diamonds in it or not. I'd be pleased with a handmade ring, if the sentiment was truly there. Kurt gave me a very small, very undecorated pre-engagement ring, but it was so really beautiful. It was a gorgeous little gold ring with a tiny diamond in it. I loved it to death, in all it's tininess and simplicity. He had stolen my money to buy it with, but I didn't know that at the time, and I was just delighted by it. Diamonds, by the way, aren't the thing that many women crave, either, I don't think. I think that when a woman asks for, expects, or wants diamonds, she actually is asking for, expecting or wanting a physical sign of dedication from a man.

So, why was I so upset? Is it because I am a fat, greedy pig? Or is it because I imagine falsely that my boyfriend doesn't love me? Or, maybe my boyfriend really doesn't love me because I'm a fat, greedy pig? I've asked him if he loves me and he won't answer me. He says he can't tell me because it will go to my head. If someone doesn't buy you Christmas presents, does that mean they don't like you? Because if so, my sisters don't like me, and neither does my mom or my dad. Maybe I shouldn't be looking at why my boyfriend didn't get me any Christmas presents. Maybe I should be looking at the bigger picture - Maybe I should be looking at why NO ONE I LOVE got me any Christmas presents? I don't feel badly about my relatives not getting me presents. I don't live near them, I don't visit them, and I am pretty distant. But it did hurt that my boyfriend didn't get me something. Why does it hurt? I hope I can get to the bottom of this, otherwise, I'm going to be depressed every Christmas, because I don't see myself dating any guys who buy me Christmas presents anytime soon. That'd be too...atypical.

Friday, December 24, 2004


A few weeks ago on my website I commented about the comedian meeting that was to take place in midtown thanks to Russ Meneve and Ted Alexandro stepping up to the platter and getting pissed at the pissy pay and cheapo club managers. (I talked to Kurt Metzger today, and apparently he and Buddy Bolton are also tied in somehow to the arrangements, so they are getting credit, too, here, like this.) There was an interview yesterday on NPR about it. My friend, Alan Corey and also Ted Alexandro were on the show. Alan tried to contact me to be on the show as well, but I was at the movies!!! Shit, fuck! (I saw Phantom of the Opera. I actually kind of liked it!)

Here's the link to the story and you can listen to the interview if you like:


Thursday, December 23, 2004

I'M A JERK, YOU'RE A JERK - The NEW bestseller for the ages

So, if anyone reads my comments board, you will see that I hurt someone's feelings who was, I guess, a regular reader of my blog, and now he isn't going to read it anymore and now he hates me.

I don't enjoy hurting people's feelings, and when I do, I generally feel badly about it. Is that because I allow guilt to live in me? Or is it because I'm sensitive enough to actually feel other people's pain? Because if that's the case, it's back to selfishness, because I don't want to feel the pain, that's why I don't want to hurt people. (If I couldn't feel others' pain, would I care that they were feeling it alone?)

This is not the first time my obnoxious manner has gotten me into trouble. I've alienated audiences, friends, family, I've even alienated enemies, as in this person Joe's case.

Usually, it starts out fairly innocently - someone will say something mean or hurtful to me, something not even that mean, just kind of mean. Then, I will retaliate tenfold, and the person will wonder what the hell happened?

My own mother doesn't call me or send me stuff in the mail like other people's moms do. It's not because she doesn't love me, it's because I've plastered her with such hatred over the years that she's probably afraid of me. My sisters think I'm an asshole, my dad and I don't talk. Even my boyfriend thinks I'm a bad person. My last boyfriend thought my personality sucked, and often told me how socially idiotic I was. My close friend the other day said to me, "Can you be any more awkward?"

Plenty of people appear to like me. I think I have a bunch of friends. People seem to enjoy reading stuff I write and audiences seem to like my jokes and people buy my CDs. Boys like me for long periods of time, even try to marry me sometimes. I guess that doesn't necessarily mean I'm a nice person - Eminem sells shitloads of CDs and from every account, he's a total cock. And someone loved Hitler, too.

But I FEEL mostly nice. I help old people do stuff. I'm nice to waiters. I sometimes cry when I read the news. (I swear!)(I cried yesterday after reading an article about the woman who cut the lady's baby out. Seven tears I shed for humanity - or for the lack thereof. I'm not fucking kidding!) I bought Christmas presents, even though I think Christmas is a total sham. I do nice things for people, even when it means I'll be going out of my way. I do that a lot, actually.

So, what is my problem? How come I'm so mean? Jeff Koyen once (editor at the NY Press) called me "mean" and I can't even count how many people I piss off with my jokes. I think sometimes, people are overly sensitive and it isn't necessarily MY fault. (They'd get pissed if ANYONE said the word abortion...things like that.)

I don't know what to do. I don't believe in God, I think I AM the devil, I believe that all wrongdoing is the devil, and all good mostly coincidence, or reciprocal in nature. Mother Universe is my god - basically an organic, slumbering, inanimate force, oblivious to even her own body (which is everything - and nothing) which maintains life and death and chance. I know that sounds weird, but I when I go to church, I feel nothing, and when I look into the late night sky at lightning or stars, or when I'm on a mountain in Vermont - it's then I feel something. I think the universe is pretty fucking smart. And, I think it wants to help us. It doesn't necessarily mean that good things are always going to happen, or that bad things will be stopped from happening. So, that's the only thing I can count on, I think. I don't think that I can expect friends to give me good advice, or a psychiatrist to fix my broken brain, or that pills are going to answer my prayers, or that the bible will tell me what I need to know. But I do think that if I keep looking for answers, it will make me more aware of right and wrong and what that even means. (Who said, "The truth shall set you free..."? Shakespeare? Jesus?)

See? And now I'm crying again. I'm crying for everything that is wrong with the world. I'm crying for myself. I'm a mess.

Someone wrote in my comment board, "You are so pathetic, it's poignant." I could not have made it into a more comprehensive sentence if I was forced to at gunpoint.

Please, I'll have no pitifying or apathetic comments. Let's leave the comments board blank for this one, unless you're really dying to say something important or hilarious. (PS - Did I mention how I just went on the pill after being pill free for eleven years? I despise the idea of any person forcing extra hormones into their bodies, and part of the reason why is because they make you cry, and crying is dumb. Afterwards, I always feel like I had just eaten a bunch of evil, then I crave baked goods.)

Tuesday, December 21, 2004


This is a long, interesting, funny review that a guy wrote who was in the audience of the North Six show in Philadelphia - the show I opened up for Touching You and The Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players. Check out the shit this kid says about me! It's laughable how flattering it is. Even I'm totally sold on me.

But Touching You's review on the other, it's not so positive.

He says nice things about the Trachtenburgs, too. (It's pretty fucking long, but it's well-written and his style is pretty nice.) (Chris thinks he just wrote it because he wants to do it to me. I don't care why he wrote it.)

North Star rocked by Slideshow
by Aaron Sakulich
Drexel University Paper

Foul-mouthed folk-rocker wins hearts; communist prick molests young girl

I've heard about the North Star Bar before but never been there. It's sort of like the France of drinking, and if you don't know what I mean by that, re-read the first sentence in this review more carefully. Anyway, unlike France, I actually went to the North Star Bar on the 16th to see the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players. I went to see a somewhat obscure concert specifically blended with geeky ingredients for maximum nerd flavor, and what I got instead was the ride of my life.

The North Star, to start with, is a pretty cool place. It's a bar with pool tables in the back and a concert hall alongside. The beer is cheap and plentiful, and it looked like they had good food. If you're lucky enough to get one of the four tables in the concert hall, you don't even have to get up.

Here's the downside to the North Star: their concert hall is long and thin. This is good when everyone behaves, but all it takes is one a-hole to block everyone's vision. Of the few dozen people there, everyone was sitting so as to let others see, but this one group of old people along the side insisted on standing. Which wouldn't have been a problem until their friend, a pudgy fellow in emo glasses, decided to stand, displaying his recently-fondled-by-a-man ass for all behind him to see. I kid you not, that piece of blue-shirted gristle wasn't going to move no matter how politely the hot chick behind me asked him, so bear in mind that I only saw the 30% of this show not obscured by an enormous cornhole. Mr. emo glasses: if you're reading this, I hope you die. You're what's wrong with America.

But enough about the audience; on to the show. The first opening act was a folk singer named Jessica Delfino. Let me be absolutely clear about this, without any exaggeration: if you had to pay one live human baby in exchange for a ticket to her show, it would be worth it. More than worth it. She played folk music, which is one of the two things I hate to hear (the other is anything about communism,) but folk music that transcended all boundaries of awesomeness: it was dirty. It was filthy, crude, degenerate folk music. I've hear some Arlo Guthrie in my day, and I can't recall him using anything vulgar, let alone a mix of many vulgarities in a single time. Jessica Delfino did, and that is what has, in my mind, placed her upon a golden throne labeled "queen of music."
There was a song about how, for a week once a month, women bleed out of their vaginas. Another about having a great party at her house when her parents were away, but someone took a big shit in the grand piano. There was another that she said was a lullaby her mother sang to her, and it was a list of all the horrors we face daily in life. I'm not paraphrasing, mind you: "we bleed from our vaginas" and "someone took a shit in the grand piano" are the choruses to the two songs.

Sadly, like everything I enjoy in life, Jessy's set lasted only four or five songs, and she was off almost as soon as she was on. This was good in a way, for had she stayed much longer I would have exploded from the sheer hilarity. Note to the FBI: that's an example of hyperbole.

She left and, as though she was Superman's Clark Kent, the Luftwaffe showed up. I'm not kidding. A slimy little guy in a Luftwaffe officer's hat showed up smoking cloves. Here's a newsflash for the general community: cloves smell like the inside of my colon. I would rather die than have to be in a room that smelled of cloves. Fortunately, they drowned out the smell of the Pudgy Emo dude, who positively reeked of undigested ham and lubricant.

The second opener, Touching You, came on as I began to have serious doubts about the probability of me leaving the bar without ruining someone's face. Touching You began by explaining that most people don't like his music, but he keeps doing it because he enjoys pissing people off. I was good and ready to get pissed off, but there's something he didn't mention: he was paralyzingly boring. He was a one-man band; he spent most of his time on stage telling the audio guy which track of background music to play and strumming a guitar that was surely for decorative purposes only. His first song was about how because firefighters have no competition, it's proof that communism is the perfect form of government. The second was about how people that eat at MacDonald's are stupid. The third, I think, was about how no human can love another human, they just love the way they feel when you're around them.
I know what you're thinking: these are the most original topics for songs ever! Totally! I've never heard this sort of thing before! I'm sure that if this self-righteous chump is reading this, he's got a red-hot boner because he thinks he pissed me off, but it's not that, exactly. It was just so boring, so terribly, terribly boring. Then he explained to us that Rudolph Guliani, who will be president in 2008, is worse than Hitler. He called the drummer for the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players, a 15 year-old girl, on stage to play the xylophone for him while he sang a song called "Lou Reed's Cock."

Now, I've approved of some pretty abominable things in my day, but serenading a pre-pubescent girl with a song about penises is a bit much. That's not edgy. That's not funny. That's one sticky hand away from child molestation. Somebody in the audience told him to watch his mouth, and when he asked who said that, I belted out "we all did." For once, the dirty hippie girl sitting in front of me didn't turn around and give me a dirty look. Right and Left, we were all united in hate for this child molesting communist.

I think that the management began to sense the boredom and about-to-lay-some-jailhouse-justice-on-a-child-molester feelings in the air, so they hustled him off the stage. It was time for the Trachtenburgs. If you don't know, this is what they do: they buy slides at yard sales and then make songs about them. The slides are played on a big screen behind them in time with the song, hence the outrage at the inconsiderate lard standing in the middle of the sitting crowd. They're a genuine family: the father sings and plays guitar or piano, the 15 year-old daughter drums, and the mother works the projector.

The first song was about a pair of army nurses from the 1950s. There was something funky about the sound quality, so I couldn't really make out many words, but the rhythm alone was enough to get my toes tapping, and the slides added a good-humored lightness to the show that was really nice. There was a song, a special request from the audience, called "What Will The Corporation Do?" which was sung along with slides from some sort of MacDonald's business report. It was hilarity incarnate; my very sides trembled upon the point of splitting open. My favorite though, was a song about eggs. What do you get when you mix slides from an infantryman in Vietnam with slides from a British dairy council? Well, this song, apparently. The music was toe-tappingly good, but it was the slides that held my attention. As my body grooved, my mind raced. Most of the slides were from the '50s and '60s, and I couldn't help but wonder: who were these people? Where are they now? Did the infantryman we see first playing with a dog and then racing across a rice paddy make it home? Even drunk enough to want to fight the Luftwaffe officer and the pork that wouldn't sit down alone, I was thinking some deep thoughts.

If you're like me and skip to the end, here's the run down: the North Star is a fantastic bar with cheap beer and good food. Their concert area has some architectural issues, but is otherwise superb. Jessica Delfino is a folk singer with a foul mouth, and as such has made me feel things I've never felt before (could it be love?). Touching You is a child-molesting communist that sounds the exact same as that one whiny bastard that sits in the front row of your political science class and argues with the teacher. The Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players have enough musical ability to make your body shake itself, and the slides they put up are enjoyable on a number of levels. Go see them at your earliest convenience.

After the show I picked up Jessica Delfino's album, aptly called Dirty Folk Rock. Now, I'm not much into folk music, but I am into foul-mouthed ladyfolk. There are a total of 8 songs, running 25 minutes, and the album is simultaneously elating and depressing. It's fantastic because 5 of the songs are written and preformed by Jessica and are hilarious. They're so funny that no word exists to describe them: it's as though hilarity were spun in a centrifuge and the pure, distilled essence of comedy was pressed into the plastic of the CD. The other three are written by that communist child molestor, Touching You, and they're terrible. I almost threw out the whole thing the first time his porcine bleating assailed my earholes. It's a good album, though shorter than I'd prefer, and it has a high novelty value that is more or less hobbled by that goddam pinko. Buy this album; it's the best $5 you'll ever spend. Just don't listen to all of it.

Rating: 5 triangles

Monday, December 20, 2004

Huntington Comedy Whatever Continued...

So, Ms. Donna Drake wrote back to me concerning the Huntington Comedy Contest. Much to my surprise, her letter was..., well, read it and see for yourself:

Wow, Thank you for writing. I love your passion, however, I have to defend my position as to why the contest is the way that it is. I would prefer to answer all of your concern by telephone. My home phone number is *** *** ****. I will try to address your concerns here though as well just in case you aren't comfortable in calling me.

Our contest last year brought in 450 people. It is great exposure for the 20 that make it in. The contest is on Long Island, however, there are many of us that work in the entertainment business that live on Long Island. It is centrally location on the island and last year brought in several people from the Tri-State area into the audience. When you say it isn't even in "Manhattan".. I sense that you feel that a show in the city will do more for your career than a show that is just 45 mintues from the city. There is a strong possibility that Seinfeld will attend our event and several major comic entertainers started their career in Long Island including Ray Romano. Everyone has to start somewhere. If you are indeed struggling to raise a family then I can appreciate how the $25 dollar fee is too high for you.
Our contest is more like a showcase than a "bringer" show. I'm good friends with David Brenner and when I discussed my idea with him last year he fully supported the idea as well as other top names in comedy.

In addition to having the ability to perform for 450 to 600 people the comedians will be fed dinner. Their names will appear in a publication that is mailed to 90,000. The contest is being mentioned on several major radio stations. Have you taken the time to read about what the Huntington Arts Council does? It might make you feel better if you realized where the money goes. We had no problem with any of the comedians that entered the contest last year in paying the entry fee. If times are really that hard for you I'm more than willing to pay your entry fee for you. I have worked in the entertainment industry for over 20 years. I am personal friends with many major entertainment employers in both New York and California so please feel free to send me your materials and I'll see if I can help you. I'm thinking you might be cynical because you've ran into some idiots in the business. BUT I can assure you that this event is held as a benefit not only to the comics but also the community. Most fund-raisers on Long Island charge people 150 to 250 to attend. This event was purposefully designed so that someone that can't pay the high costs of an evening on broadway will be able to enjoy quality entertainment.

I'm slightly concerned that you would feel the need to be so judgmental about an organization or competition that you don't have enough information about to make accusations that you are making. I'm even further troubled by the fact that you would boycott our organization. I pride myself on keeping my word and living with integrity. Please feel free to contact me and we can work something out about your entry fee. Life is too short to spread negativity throughout the community by boycotting something. Like I said, I like your passion but being confrontational about it and threatening isn't quite what I feel is necessary in this world.

Please reconsider your position and just take me up on the offer to help you on the entry fee if you need it and would still like to enter. I would be paying for you as a member of the community and not as a board member or chair of this event. It wouldn't be right for me to waive your fee.. but like I said if you really need some help right now in your life I'm more than happy to give you a hand. If you end up winning you can just pay me back. (smiling).

Donna Drake

She added a PS saying she'd forward my letter to the board to read.

I responded with a long, lame letter thanking her for being gracious and eventually accepting her offer to cover my fee. I said I'd rather see the fee eliminated or lowered to a more reasonable $5 fee, but I also know that it isn't going to happen this time around.

So, I guess it's good to know that you (if chosen) will get free dinner and an advertisement. I'd like to see them refund the $25 fee to the people who are not chosen, as per her suggestion - if they do that alone, I'll have considered this letter writing session a complete success. I still encourage comics to write and encourage them to refund the $25 fee to people who are not chosen. If they do that, it will be worth $25 to 100 or more strangers. My one letter will have been worth $2500 or more.

Saturday, December 18, 2004

Huntington Lame-O Comedy Contest

So, I saw a listing in some shitty weekly e-mail crap I get that announced a need for comedians for this comedy contest/fundraiser that they are doing. So, I sent for the application, which they sent to me, and was horrified to find a $25 entry fee for this stupid racket.

THIS IS A NOT-FOR-PROFIT FUNDRAISER for a NOT-FOR-PROFIT arts organization. They are 501 (c)3 certified, which means that they can get FREE MONEY from NY STATE. They don't even have to have a private fundraiser. I have many problems with this, so I wrote Ms. Donna Drake a letter (the one who sent me the application). Here is my letter:

Hello Donna

I wanted to write to say that I think it's nice that you're assembling a fundraiser, but I am bothered by a $20 entry fee (for members, $25 for non-members) to comedians who'd like to participate in this event. Comedians, and most performers, are constantly being charged to perform, and I think that is wrong. Though there are prizes, and I'm sure this is a legitimate competition, I am troubled by the fact that you'd have people pay a $20-$25 FEE to perform in this contest (way out on Long Island, not even in Manhattan). That is as cheesy and morally questionable as having performers BRING FIVE PAYING GUESTS who purchase two drinks each to a comedy club for FIVE MINUTES OF STAGE TIME. (They're called "Bringer shows" and they're WRONG).

It ESPECIALLY troubles me that this is a fundraiser for an ARTS organization. You must know that this reflects very POORLY on the ORGANIZATION - a purported NOT-FOR-PROFIT organization, basically extorting money from performers who they know will shell out $20 for some dreams of glory. VERY lame, you guys. (And if they aren't involved in the financial aspect of this, it appears that they are and doesn't look very good for them).

I recommend that you CANCEL the $20 entrance fee, and instead, make it a $5 entrance fee, as most of the performers who will be entering are not star comics who are making a great living touring around the country making people laugh, as you must know, but instead are struggling and working shitty jobs and taking care of families while they also focus on their dream. Instead, why not leave the fundraising aspect of this to the people who intend to come to the show, purchase drinks and whatever chachkis you are going to be peddling, and the STATE of NY, which sponsors 501 (c) 3 not for profit organizations for FREE. (When was the last time this organization had to send a $20 registration fee to apply for STATE AID? That's what I thought - NEVER). As a matter of fact, why are you having a private fundraiser at all when you have 501 (c) 3 certification and can apply to the state for TONS OF FREE AID?

Unless you change the admission fee, I will not be entering this contest, and I will go out of my way to encourage other comedians to boycott this contest. You are capitalizing on the struggles of the very people you are purportedly trying to help.

Please - do the right thing.

Jessica Delfino
starving artist

I encourage you all to copy the text of this letter and put your name on the bottom, and e-mail it to Donna Drake. (Or, just write your own damn letter). Her e-mail address is

In addition, forward it to other performers. We all know that contests, for the most part are crap anyway, but if we all do little things like this now, it will help the comedian community from being taken advantage of by sleazy promoters down the road, especially if any of us ever reach any level of acclaim. Don't be lazy or disaffected, though that's a much easier way to be. Russ Meneve and Ted Alexandro went into attack mode regarding club comics being underpaid. My boyfriend has been passing out flyers for two weeks outside of Luna Lounge during the "Eating It" show because Jeff Singer refuses to book me on the show, citing me as "too alternative" for a show that "is no longer an alternative show". (Jeff Singer compared me to alternative acts Reverend Jen, Tammy Faye Starlight and Rick Shapiro, then had each and every one of those three on his show in following weeks. In addition, he had me perform at the 50 in 50 show, THEN said I was too alternative). I don't think that it is wrong to fight back a little when you know you are being given the run-around. We have no one else to stick up for us, unfortunately, so unless you want to continue to be subject to crappy contests with $25 entrance fees and comedy shows where all your friends have to pay AND buy overpriced drinks and snacks, pull out your balls and get reactive.

Please forward this to anyone you think is thinking of entering this contest, or anyone you think might enter this contest. The reason they charge $25 is because they KNOW YOU'LL PAY IT. DON'T DO IT! Don't be sheep. This isn't a business where you will succeed by paying $25 entry fees and then sitting back defeated.

Thursday, December 16, 2004


A ghost from my past wrote me an e-mail yesterday and said he heard a song of mine being played on the Opie & Anthony show. Does anyone have any information about this or the ability to confirm or deny it? If it is true, it will serve as my radio debut...if satellite radio counts as radio (XM). If not, it's definitely my satellite radio debut. Too bad I fucking missed it.

How many people have XM Radio? (I believe Opie and Anthony are on channel 202...)

I'd like to take this moment to plug my dear friend Chelsea Peretti's one woman show tonight at ARS NOVA. There are shows at both 8 and 10 pm. I recommend reservations.
(Thursday, December 16th) TONIGHT. Her show is called "Floating Palace" and received a glowing review from The Onion and I heard that The Village Voice also honked her horn a bit. I think it might be $10.

It's great that she has a 10 pm show, because it allows you to come see ghost-rape themed, histrionic fear-metal band HAUNTED PUSSY first at 7 pm, 7:30, 8 pm or 8:30 pm. They're playing at 180 Orchard St. in the Lower East Side. The show is called "HAUNTED PUSSY Vs. JESUS" and we are out to see who will win. It's $3. (New, improvised ghost-rapey sets every thirty minutes - starring Michael Portnoy (XAR!) as Jesus. (He's best-known for his on-stage Grammy Award Soy Bomb shenanigans of some years ago, but don't mention it to him because it makes him angry. So, please - treat him as you would any gay diva.)

Wednesday, December 15, 2004

People are interesting and stuff...

by Jessica Delfino

Every day, all day long, I meet people I wish I hadn't. This city seems to be teeming with reams of weiners. So, it's always fascinating to me when I stumble upon really amazing, interesting people -- and they're right underneath my shapely, romanesque nose.

Tonight, I performed at PS.122 on the WYSIWYG show, a spritely, fun show that features blog writers doing themed performances - this episode was called, "Happy God Damn Holidays". It was a terrific show, with some performers who I know and appreciate, but none who I felt particularly close to (with the exception of Dan Fishback, who has been a gracious recurring character lately in my life).

(I don't want to talk too much about the show, because that's not what this story is about, but it was a really note-worthy show, and definitely deserves the credit, so quickly, a little about the show:

Phoebe Croix opened the show playing folk-styled songs on her guitar, winning the crowd instantly with her adorable demeanor and smart lyrics. Dan Fishback followed her playing his guitar and singing, a non-musical musician played the nose flute, a gay choir serenaded everyone, the Hazzards softly rocked it, and I performed on behalf of the Secular Voices of Heaven's Horizon, my new anti-holiday holiday cheer chorus project.)

It was a great show that I really enjoyed being a part of, and it was especially satisfying to see performers who I know and respect, one after the other go on stage and delight the audience. After the show, there was an after party at a bar on St. Mark's near Avenue A called Open Air Lounge. Yeah, if you like your open air stale.

(This story isn't about how shitty this bar was, either, but it seems somewhat pertinent to the story, so, here goes:

The place was boxy and dark with shitty music playing in the background just loudly enough to keep anyone from having carefree, convenient conversation. The furniture was awkward and spread out in a stupid way so that you could only talk to the person you were sitting directly next to.)

I felt bad, but I was totally not digging the place at all, and I wanted to go somewhere I could sit and talk to people in a non uptight scenario. So, I left and went with Dan over to Frig Dog or whatever the place is called just a few doors up from Open Air Bar. It's a cool hotdog joint on St. Marks. There, Phoebe Croix, Lippy and the dude I always see at Sidewalk but never get his name were playing PAC-MAN(!) at one of those sit-down two-seater Pac-Man tables. They had a bunch of TV's and the place was clean and fun with toys hanging on the walls, and a hundred different hot dog and french fry treats, even veggie dogs!!! I practically ran to the counter to order a veggie dog covered in onions and tomatos, a root beer and an order of TATER TOTS!!! Fucking awesome.

(SHIT - side note again: Dan and I had run across the street really quickly before we went into Open Air Bar and ordered food from some vegan bakery. We had to wait a long time for it - he ordered lasagna and I ordered a huge chunk of butter nut squash. They were both gross and we felt cheated and still hungry. There's nothing I hate more than wasting food and wasting money, and I ended up doing both!)

SO, Frig Dog or whatever was just what I NEEDED. (Plus, they have a HUGE cooler of water with cups out on the counter for anyone to help themselves to. EVERY RESTAURANT should do that.) We sat there and ate our delicious hot dogs and tater tots, sipping root beers and chocolate shakes, watching the news (the story about the poor hawks who got evicted) and laughing at eachother's quips and jokes. Phoebe was thrillingly interesting, taking an African dance class, insisting that she's the best one in it, Dan is having virginal gay issues and at 23 is so cute, I'd like to pinch his penis! And Lippy is just funny, he's so scruffy and laid back, and the guy who's name I never got was super clever and silly, and a lot of fun to be around. (I think his name is Dibs, but I keep not re-asking).

I have seen these people a bunch of times here or there, and we've shared brief conversation, but it was good to be able to sit with them and get to know them better, because I learned they are non-shitheads, and that's such a rare, wonderful treat.

Even if you meet a non-shithead once a day, think of all the shitheads that you meet once a day. Jesus.

And not only did I meet a bunch of cool, smart folks, but the place we were at was very neat and smart. I wish every business was run like that. After the news, the boss guy put in a DVD - Pirates of the Carribean, and even let me use the bathroom, which was in the back in the kitchen. Normally, that bathroom would be off limits in NYC. SORRY! NO BATHROOM!!!

I wish I could always be surrounded by bright, funny people. Entertain me, god dammit! Please? Distract me from my life...and yours...

Monday, December 13, 2004

Letters between 2 friends

I stumbled upon this correspondence between two friends - one was vacationing in Japan and the other was in New York somewhere.

Dear Jenie:

How are you? I'm going to Japan for a bit. I'm leaving tomorrow. While I'm gone, I was hoping you could water my plants. You can stay at my place if you want to. You can sleep in my bed. I wouldn't mind. Also, eat whatever's there, because I won't be eating it. Or give it away if you're on a diet. Not to say that you should be, you're so skinny! I never told you this before, but, I am allergic to certain foods.

Well, anyway, while I'm in Japan, is there anything you'd like?

Take Care,

Hey Dan

You're going to Japan? What for? Are you in the Army? While you're there, could you get me some Japanese stuff? Whatever, I don't care, just no cheap crap, please, I have enough cheap shit around my dump apartment as it is. I have cockroaches in my bedroom. I'd love to stay at your apartment. Thanks! I guess I'd sleep in your bed; where else would I sleep? So, sure, I'll water your plants, and I'm not on a diet. But thanks for thinking of my weight.

Also, I was wondering - do you have a girlfriend? Are you gay?

See you,

Hi Jenie

Sorry I haven't written for a few days, I've been on planes and stuff. It's a really long trip to Japan. We fly right over the ocean. For days. Finally, somewhere, we take a left, land, get on another plane, fly again in another direction for days, take another left, land, and then you sleep for a week. I love the chinese food in Japan, it's so authentic. It almost tastes like Korean or Thai. It gives you diarrhea, though, just like the water, and the drugs, and everything else. Also, you have to be careful, because they eat dogs over here, and dog is in everything, even the McDonald's hamburgers! Can you believe it? Who could eat Dog? And how dare they tarnish the perfection of the McDonald's all beef patty.

Well, I guess I better go. Some Japanese chick wants my dick pretty bad.


Dear Dan,

I got your letter. It reminded me of reading the phone bill. It's almost necessary, but you wish you were doing anything else anywhere else, anywhere. Anything. I have never had diarrhea, but then again, I've never eaten dog. So, Asian chicks dig you?
I have a hard time believing it. Was she a prostitute? Careful, they probably give you diarrhea, for sure. Did you take your shots before you got on the plane? Don't you have to take special shots? That almost seems racist. Like you're trying to vaccinate yourself against Japan and everything Japanese.

Well, good luck with that.

Your friend,

Dear Jenie

She was a prostitute. But it's okay, I did anal so I wouldn't get anything. Asian prostitutes are everywhere here. And they're all Asian, which is hot! There are a few Americans sprinkled around, but they pretend not to be American, unless they're armed with a rifle, like me, then it's okay to be American.

I did have to take shots before I got here. I had to take shots for everything you can think of, TB, HIV, Herpes, Gonorrhea, AIDS, Cancer, EVERYTHING. But the good news is now I can pretty much do whatever I want. I'm like God. As long as I don't get hit by a car, I'm livin' forever.

I am starting to miss NY a little and am hoping you're taking good care of my tomato and hibiscus. Say hi to them for me.

Ding ding ding ding - ding ding - ding ding ding!,

Hey Dan,

I recommend you still be sure to dip your dick in rubbing alcohol every night before bed. So, while in Japan, are you doing as the Japanese do? Are you riding a bike everywhere, and eating dog soup, and learning karate, and heating up rocks for something related to healing, and joining the Yakuza, and stabbing people with pointy swords, and watching Japanese animation?

I'm in NY, just hanging out. I'm bored. I wish I was in Japan.



Today was cool. The army gave me the day off. I walked around in this Japanese park called Shang Po, and it was so beautiful. There were trees that were 1,000 years old! I walked up into the mountains and there were shacks all along the way, inhabited by old, wrinkly looking men and women with sticks and pointy hats, just like in the movies! I listened closely for the flute-y music to start playing, but it never kicked in. At the top of the mountain was a ginseng farm where you could pick your own ginseng. Everyone here eats tons of sushi.



This is the last letter I will be writing, as I've started dating a new guy and he likes to fuck a lot. I won't be around computers for awhile, probably, because I'll be too busy fucking and sucking, and maybe licking and sucking, and nuzzling and cuddling. I'm sorry you have to fight a war in Japan. When you get back, we'll go out for a beer and you can tell me the whole story.

Take care, friend.


PS Your plants died. It wasn't my fault. They died of natural causes.

Sunday, December 12, 2004

for anyone with a big fat mouth
TONIGHT! and every Sunday night


Apocalypse Lounge
E. 3rd bt. A & B aves (closer to B)
7 - 9 pm (sign up is at 7 PM SHARP)

Bring: Jokes, music, stories, strange inventions, CDs or other wares to sell or trade, instruments, your alcoholism, food (or get it at one of the thirty surrounding cheap-o restaurants and bring it back to eat), attitude, a friend, two friends, new material, old material, good material, markers and paper (to color on while you wait to perform), shades, something cool that you made by hand.

Don't Bring: Toddlers, TB, crises, Christ, crap, lice, jerks, assholes, dickwads or shitheads.

ANYONE can perform at this open mic, but priority will go to performers who are interested in being funny, or if not funny, at least smart or insightful. It doesn't matter what your medium is, but I want to run an open mic where people can come and either laugh or scoff at how shitty the would be jokes are supposed to be, or ponder intellectualism or scoff at how unintellectual the would be smart anecdote or performance is supposed to be, not cry, or scoff at how sad the would be songs or poems are supposed to be.

Got it?

OTHER NOTES: Apocalypse is a cool, 2-story lounge with wierd art and shit all over the walls, strangely shaped tables and furniture, and a very avant garde atmosphere. Just doors away from Mama's yummies and a few other cheap food spots. You can buy food and bring it back to the show to eat. Apocalypse is somewhat owned by "Rocco Saffredi" - Limelight promoter/performer from back in the day. At 9 pm, every Sunday night after OPEN MIC, the entire space becomes an open musical jam.
This neighborhood is a little bit scary.
by Jessica Delfino

I am currently hanging at my bf's place in the lower east side. He lives way East and South, not quite to Chinatown, but almost somehow in a part of town that got skipped in the neighborhood naming process altogether. He lives practically below the foot of the Williamsburg Bridge, in the kind of neighborhood that houses both a live chicken coop (where I guess people go when they want to see their chickens beheaded before their god damn eyes, god dammit, none of this Purdue shit) and a super hip nightclub reserved only for the dorkiest of cool nerd-art types on the very same block.

You can see that the neighborhood has gone through some half-assed kind of metamorphasis, as if it were in the progress of fixing the garage and somewhere along the way went inside to get a glass of iced tea and ended up sitting on the couch, playing video games and smoking crack for the next decade or so. There's a very miscellaneous mish-mash of personalities and business going on around here, so much so that if one hadn't lived with an ear abreast of the constantly-updated hip neighborhoods-to-soon-be warnings, no one would have ever known that this place even existed, as was the case with me. (I thought this neighborhood was the river!)

But, friends, have you ever wandered over to a place called sin-E on Clinton St.? Ever had a tasty brunch at Schiller's on the corner of Norfolk and Rivington? Did you know there's a rad hat store on Suffolk and Stanton where Britney Spears and Christine Aguilera get hand-made one of a kind hats? Probably not. Why? Because you think that the Lower East Side ends at Ludlow Street.

Life is pretty tranquil over here on Pitt Street, which is what they call Ave C south of Houston Street. From my boyfriend's balcony window, which is actually the glass of a door that opens out onto a patio five stories over the sidewalk, the view is pretty stunted, totally consumed by projects - as high up and as wide left and right as the eye can see. It's a low income housing joint, and I never see or hear of any of those bad poor people making too much racket, probably because they're too poor to have fun, but I do secretly envy the fact (and wonder if any of the other people who live in this building might agree) that they live right across the street from here, but their rent is most certainly less than half of what the white people across the street are paying.

There's plenty of free parking here, and the constant, steady sheen of cars rushing across the Williamsburg Bridge. There's a chinese food restaurant in the building next door where thugs boss the Asians around and a real live authentic spanish bodega on the corner (the kind where that one long song is playing over and over again all day while people speak very quickly in a language that you failed in high school, because you're even stupider than a spanish person.)

I probably never would have noticed this spot if I hadn't been invited here by my boyfriend. Before him, I thought that this was the neighborhood where I should go if I ever wanted to burn rubbish in a barrel, and then maybe warm my hands beside it. Here, life is almost free, living is almost safe, the days often start with the sounds of strangers fighting in the street and almost always end the same way.

Wednesday, December 8, 2004


I've gotten a ton of great suggestions of people I should write to, and of all the suggestions (everyone from Bill Nye the Science Guy to Christopher Brodeur - ha ha) I have chosen three for sure, and maybe definitely a fourth:

John Waters
Kevin Nealon
the guy who cut off his own arm with a pocket knife while hiking

....and maybe a possible fourth, Sufjan Stevens.

Any other suggestions, friends? I'm ideally looking for people who it would be cool to chat with because they seem either very interesting or very relevant to my life.

And it would be helpful if they like tea.

168 Thompson St. (btw Bleecker and Houston)
8 PM


Mormon Surprise as Mormon Delicious, hosting the festivities (he's like a young Gene Wilder meets a youngish Andy Kauffman)


Corn Mo (accordion playing whiz with Meatloaf-y (blonde) locks
Epstein & Hassan (they call themselves the black & the jew, they are a fun, insightful couple who talk about how to make marriage work)
Jessica Delfino (me, dirty folk rock and filthy jokes)
Adira Amram (piano playing lovely, smart and funny)
Magic Twins (boy and girl magic set - they aren't really twins)
Dan Fishback (cute gay boy guitarist)
Haunted Pussy (rape-themed histrionic fear-metal band)

.....and more!!!!

email me at if you have any questions...the show is $5 suggested donation.

Saturday, December 4, 2004


So, celebrities are pretty cool. They ride around in fancy chauffered cars and eat dainty chocolates served on lace doilies for lunch. They wear special clothes reserved for rich people, made from the finest, rarest animals and fabrics on the planet. They drink the expensive sodas, the ones that are like $3 a bottle, and here I am choking down a diet Sprite. Gross.

Celebrities are our royalty. I'm surprised they don't wear crowns and carry diamond encrusted royalty poles. But almost every celebrity I've ever met in person has been a wiener, bar perhaps Sarah Silverman and Laura Kightlinger, and a few other comedians. (But don't get all excited, I've met plenty of comedian celebrities [and un-celebrity comedians] who are super dickholes.)

Even though the rich can buy friends and people to entertain them, they aren't beyond being charmed. And who better to do the job than me? I've decided to take it upon myself to write ten different celebrities who I really do think I have a chance of getting a response from, and see if I can get them to write back to me. Every day, celebrities get fan mail and letters from girls who want their bods. I'm going to go one less. I'm going to see if I can get a celebrity to have tea. (Rich people LOVE tea.)

So, please help me out. Who should I write to? George Soros? Madonna? Who is a playful, unique celebrity who I might be able to get to respond to a letter that I write to them?

I'll even go one more here - I'll post the list of people on my website, and if YOU can get one of those people to respond to you, I'll give you a special book of poems and jokes that I made by hand. Take the celebrity provokation challenge!

**Maybe I should say what inspired this idea: My boyfriend loves to write letters. He considers himself a champion provocateur. Well, I think I can do better. He wastes his time writing letters to female bass players of small-time once-quasi popular bands (who are now shift supervisors at alternative record stores and the like) to see if he can get them to respond. (He calls it a "social experiment". He is so nifty!) I know what you guys are thinking, you're thinking he's just trying to get them into bed, but you're wrong! He really, really likes me a lot. He's never told me he loves me, but I bet he does. Plus, in the letters he writes, he always tells the girls that he has a beautiful girlfriend who he worships (ME!!!) even when he asks them to send photos of their breasts to him. (He just wants to have photos of their breasts so that when they get old, he can show them how beautiful their breasts used to be. Isn't he sweet? That is so selfless! He'd NEVER cheat on me. He's turned down HUNDREDS of the most BEAUTIFUL GIRLS in the WORLD who were BEGGING him for his cock!) It is this kind of selflessness and love of art that has inspired me to emulate him. I wish everyone could be this giving of themselves.**

So, let's see if we can make this happen.


Thursday, December 2, 2004

by Jessica Delfino

Lucien Hold passed away recently, and for anyone visiting who doesn't know who Lucien is, he was a notorious hard-assed booker who very much enjoyed breaking and busting the balls of many a new and seasoned comedian who would try to "pass" the Comic Strip at 82nd and 2nd Ave.

He had a rare disease which I don't know much about, called "Scleraderma" (I'm not sure if I'm spelling it right, I'm no spelling doctor) but it made him have trouble swallowing, so he'd often cough and spit on people while he was crushing their dreams. It was a very awkward experience to come sit in the booth with him and get verbally desecrated as he tried not to choke to death on soup, while all you could do was watch helplessly. Sometimes I secretly bet that even if I saved his life one of the two times he shat on my set, he still wouldn't have hired me to work at the Strip. The fact that Lucien wouldn't hire me made me hate him. It made me despise him. Why couldn't he see the good in me? He compared me to Sarah Silverman, and said I just tell ass sex jokes. (I think I do have one ass sex joke, and it's regarded among friends and audiences as one of my best jokes.)

Kurt worked there a lot. I don't know if he still does. Lucien liked Kurt very much. Kurt is a mostly likeable person. There was something about him that appealed to Lucien, as it often does to comedy industry types.

Kurt called me the other night, mostly drunk, having had been at some kind of memorial or gathering after hearing the news of Lucien's passing. He got all teary because he had lost a friend, and also, because Kurt and I spent many hours at The Comic Strip together, because we shared an apartment just a few blocks south on 76th St., which brought back bittersweet memories for him. I guess it was another stitch in the patch which mends the hole we made, a reminder that our time together came and went.

There will be a memorial for Lucien at 2 PM today, at 2 W. 64th St., between Central Park West and Columbus Circle. I probably should go, because I did know Lucien and though I didn't like him much, he was someone who helped to shape me, even if just the part of me which eventually became my blanket hatred for comedy industry dicks.
But I probably won't go, because I don't want to.

Rest in Peace, Lucien, you old hard-ass.

Thursday, November 25, 2004


I am at my friend's in midtown watching the Macy's Day Parade. I considered giving y'all a blow by blow, but I think that channels 2,3,4,5,6,7,8,10 and 13 probably have it pretty well covered.

There's tons of yummy food here and we're on the 23rd floor, looking down over the balcony. I could spit on someone and they'd think it was raining. People are so gullable. It looks a little overcast, too, so it is totally doable.

The parade is actually kind of gay. It's a lot of marching and advertisement in the form of a float. Anyone in line to see the movie, "Chicken Little" ? Well, with the help of a float, the box office intake should be sky high...gross, was that just a Chicken Little pun? I promise you, it was unintentional.

I like being in NYC with friends, but I miss my family. I don't wish I was there, I wish they were here.

These drummers in the parade act so big. Dude, anyone can keep a beat on a bucket. Try playing a clarinet, and then we'll see how great you are. Helicopters are circling overhead incase anyone releases a bomb, disguised as humongous floating black baby. (A real float.)

There are kids on David's balcony, ripping up paper and throwing it into the crowd. See the differences that bring the poor and the rich together? They're making confetti! There's nothing more in the spirit of the holidays than the rich littering onto the heads of the poor and middle classes.

The music in this parade sucks. I can't even dance to it. I think the band is playing the theme to Dallas. I think that reference will get lost on many a tiny ear. I embarrassed myself this morning, when the band was playing the Madonna song, "Holiday." I said to the kids, "That's Madonna! Do you guys like Madonna?" And they replied, "Who?"

There are people on the planet who don't know who Madonna is? There is something gravely wrong with America's schools today.

Cool, more drummers! And get this - they're drumming shit! Paired with the car horns of mid town, it's like a duet of beats and beeps. Sweet Jesus, forgive me. OK, that IS DEFINITELY the theme from Dallas. Guys - is that the most common denominator theme song slash Thanksgiving mood music you could dig up?

So, this has been my play by play of the Macy's Day Parade. There's a lot of parade left, but I have to go get drunk on Mimosas. That's what rich people drink to celebrate how they have more than the poor. Champagne makes me feel rich, even though I'm not. So, I guess it's also what poor people drink to make them thankful that they're not "like" the rich (everything besides having all that cold dough.)

Thank you, and have a blessed day of dead turkeys and carnage, won't you all?

Monday, November 22, 2004


I'm going to be starting a new open mic. It's every Sunday night at 7 pm at APOCALYPSE LOUNGE which is between B and C on E. 3rd St. It's starting the Sunday after Thanksgiving. It's going to be called "All You Can Eat" Open Mic and it's going to be free. Sign up, first come, first serve. I might have real, actual judges. I'm not sure yet. I might just have designated hecklers. I don't believe that open mics should be soft and caring. Maybe it's because MINE weren't, god dammit, but I think it's because I TRULY BELIEVE that being coddled doesn't help anyone.

So come and perform, do whatever you want, and don't expect to get booed off stage, because that won't happen. But do expect a strange show with several hosts, all hot chicks. They have a DI and mics and a stage and all the other stuff that make open mics work.

Hello, readers of Jessy Delfino's blog, and to any empty computers that happen to have been left on with my blog page up, this is to the void in the chair in front of you.

I'd like to talk about what happened to me at brunch last Saturday, because it's been bothering me a lot.

I DID go to brunch for a second weekend in a row wiht a lady friend, who for the sake of our friendship, will remain anonymous. We found a cheapish place, only $10, for a three course meal. Nice, huh? So, things started out quite lovely. We drank some tea, ate some bread and a variety of yummy stuffs that you dip bread in, and were chatting like two old hens, when all of a sudden, we started talking about comedy. It's hard not to talk comedy, especially when you're both involved in that line of business.

I mentioned to her some other things that have happened since we last spoke. I had also told her a story that day about when I took a trip with the Trachtenburgs and opened up for Touching You, and had what might have been the all-time best set (reaction from the audience-wise) I've ever had, (the audience was chanting "Bring back Jessica!" when Touching You was on...) and it made her get very angry with me. She said she thinks I brag a lot and it makes her not want to be around me. She said that I don't have to sell myself to her.

I wanted to write about it because I feel like I did something wrong by telling her about some of the good things that have happened to me lately, but at the same time, I don't really feel like I did anything wrong. It really hurt my feelings that she told me not to share my TINY, almost INVISIBLE landmarks along the way, especially because compared to some of her achievements, mine are like bags of vomit with holes in them that are dripping all over the place and then there's no mop to clean it up so I have to use an article of my clothing, like my socks or something, because it's dripping somewhere very important, perhaps on important documents or a surface that could be affected by the stuff in vomit that makes model's and other non-skinny bulimics get spotty teeth. The acid.

After she yelled at me, which isn't actually true, she didn't raise her voice even a little bit, it was pretty much delivered in a spoken manner, but she might as well have stood on the table and screamed at me, because the way I felt afterwards was like she had done just that. We pretty much settled it and made up, and I think it's all fine now, but still, I had to digest it in my own way for a few days afterwards. The way I usually digest things is to think about them a lot. The more I think about them, the more I notice that the thought starts to hurt less each time it is thought about. Eventually, it doesn't hurt anymore at all, because I've resolved it from thinking about it so much. Or maybe it works the other way around. It doesn't hurt because I've thought about it so much, thus it is resolved.

Anyway, what I mostly settled on in my head is that this is a business that does so many evil things to people. It brings out the worst qualities in people. It brings out anger, fear, jealousy, it makes people lie, steal, beg, brag, it makes people sick. No matter if you're doing well or not, people are always looking at other people, thinking, "Why don't I have what THEY have?" and "HE doesn't deserve that. I deserve that."

When Kurt and I used to date, he got lots of stuff. Managers would CONSTANTLY give him their cards, managers of BIG agencies. People would interrupt our conversations to say good things to him and act like I wasn't even standing there ALL THE TIME. He'd get jobs, comedy work and all sorts of other perks and plusses and I'd get NOTHING. I'd get criticized behind my back by his friends, who would call me unfunny and his crappy comic girlfriend, and NO ONE took me seriously as a performer. I was his unwatchable dumb bitch. Then, a few people who he liked said they thought I was funny, and slowly, things started to change. I started to get some nice comments from people, and started to get a little bit of recognition. Though most of our peers didn't give a shit about me, people who I looked up to and admired all for the most part liked my comedy. Whenever I'd complain to Kurt that it hurt me that he'd pretend not to know me when we went to comedy clubs, he'd tell me to shut up and that was the way the business worked. Kurt pretty much helped to destroy every shred of self-esteem I had, because I believed all the evil shit he said. Then, I had to build it back up from nothing. Not an easy task.

I believe that there is a 'way' the 'business' 'works.' But I don't think it HAS to be the most evil way.

I've seen some interesting things happening around the comedy world. Ted Alexandro and Russ Meneve are spearheading a project to try to get working comics in NYC a unionized payrate, which would be a valuable change. Comedians who can't get spots at clubs or don't want to play the social ladder climbing game (because that's most of what getting booked at clubs is about) have started their own rooms and shows. I can't get booked at Eating It, which I think I've mentioned before, because Jeff Singer thinks I'm too alternative. My bf is planning on passing out pro-Delfino flyers at the show tonight. I don't necessarily think that's the BEST plan, and I wouldn't do it, and I don't necessarily condone or detest the idea, but I think it's an interesting option that I haven't seen other people do yet.

When I talk about my very miniscule achievements, like a review in JANE or a write up in this or that, that's all it is, a VERY MINISCULE achievement. Believe it or not, it doesn't mean that all of a sudden my phone is ringing and everyone wants to buy Delfino. When I was on Good Morning America, I REALLY EXPECTED the phone to begin ringing immediately with star makers offering me parts in movies and chauffered cars to luncheons here or there. What I realized is that I have a LONG, LONG way to go, and the road is infinite, paved with millions and millions of tiny blurbs in papers. I still need about 15 million more of 15 million other things to happen before I can sit back and relax.

Whatever achievements I have to share with my friends and family, I expect them to share something in return. Some are going to share appreciation for the fact that someone is paying attention out there in la la land. Some are going to be proud or happy to know me. Others are going to be angry or confused, thinking, why her and not me? But my FRIENDS? I expect them to celebrate the small successes of my journey, and I plan to celebrate theirs, also.

I'd never be angry if a friend shared their accomplishments with me. I hear of great things happening to friends all the time, and it makes me have faith in the world for brief moments, because if my friends are getting acknowledgement, then someone is doing something right, and I know the people who DESERVE attention are getting it.

And don't worry, girlfriend, SHITLOADS of things are going wrong in my life on a daily basis, but I have a feeling that conversation/laundry list would be even MORE annoying to hear over brunch.

But here's just a few, maybe to negate the good things you might have heard from me:

- I have no place to live (Sure, I'm crashing at my bosses place for a few months but then he's moving in, and I have to go.)
- I'm 28 with no plans in sight as far as marriage or family - that is daunting to a woman who's youth and eggs are about to hold hands and jump into the river.
- I just had my license suspended and if you heard the story, you'd be APPALLED.
- My boyfriend can't stop telling me about all the girls he wants to fuck who aren't me. (Because he believes in TOTAL honesty.)
- I have a crying problem, and I can't stop crying ever.
- The only men who care about me are freaky creeps who just like me because my jokes are all about pussy.
- I've got some wierd rash on my thigh that looks like either cancer or AIDS, and it's crawling up closer to my vagina on a daily basis. I'm afraid when it gets there, it's going to eat my fallopean tubes.
- I can't get booked at comedy clubs.
- My peers all think I'm insane (and everyone else does, too.)
- I've had a body quaking cough for over a month.
- I've got over 20 grand in college debt.

It's hard to guess what people want to hear. Do they want to hear good things or bad things? When I say good things, I hear complaints that I'm bragging. When I say bad things, I hear complaints that I'm complaining. I guess I should just work more on being funny and less on being honest.

Here's a joke:

How do you know that a boy is being raped by the priest at his church?
- The boy acts strange at church.

ha HA!

If you want to hear more, I'm doing a show tomorrow night at a place called RAGA.

It's called Chicks and Giggles. It's at 433 East 6th St. at 8:30PM.

Hope you can make it. I'll be there, talking about things both good and bad.

Monday, November 15, 2004

by Jessica Delfino

Yesterday, I had the worst brunch experience of my life. The fact that I am even chalking the experience by the name "worst brunch experience of my life" is quite revealing, I would think, but I don't mean for it to be. I never get to go out to brunch, which made it even worse.

When I DO get to go to brunch, 'cause I have a few extra bucks or a friend has offered to treat, I usually go to Stingy Lulu's on St. Marks and Ave A. I love going there, because the food is usually very good, the service is usually pretty decent, the food is reasonably priced ($10) and included with that price is ALL YOU CAN DRINK BLOODY MARYS!!! Awesome - who doesn't love getting tanked at one on a Sunday? Can anyone say "me?" I didn't think so.

Well, we got there around 2 - Chris, Harry, Victor and I. We got a big nice booth, which is always a must. But we immediately discovered our waiter was at best incompetent and at worst, incredibly high AND incompetent. He made us wait 40 minutes for menus, and an hour later, we were still waiting for our Bloody Marys, coffee and tea. So, I decided to get up and investigate, because we hadn't even SEEN our waiter for the better part of the hour. I walked over to the bar and said, "Hi, we've been waiting for drinks for an hour. I was just thinking maybe I could carry them to the table to help our waiter out. He seems very busy." It WAS really busy. She told me to wait and so I sat back down. About ten minutes later, he came over with three Bloody Marys for the two drinkers at the table. We downed them instantly, and almost instantly, he brought us three more.

Across the aisle, the couple heard us complaining that the service was lacking. She said the waiter had to bring her husband's food three times because the order was messed up. She said they'd been there two and a half hours and were never coming back.

Meanwhile, I'd gotten instantly loaded from the three bloody marys I inhaled, and now drunk with no food in my stomach, starving and lit, I began to get loud and cranky. I got up again and went to inquire about the coffee and tea which never appeared. Finally, a bus boy came to our table and I asked him nicely to please help our waiter out because he seemed like he was probably drowning in orders. Almost two hours in, we finally got our food. My order was fucked up. I tried to send it back, but the table of ravenous man people devoured it before I could even give it to the waiter. So, I asked him to please bring me another one, the right way. He said they were out of homefries and so I'd have to have french fries, and brought my eggs florentine on burnt toast instead of a warm english muffin. So, I complained again and he said to wait a minute. He brought us yet another round of Bloody Marys, which we sucked down instantaneously. At that point, I got up and went to the kitchen myself and said, "I've been waiting for my food for over two hours. Can I please just have the french fries and eggs on burnt toast?" I then began sobbing, as I was starving and totally wrecked on the BMs. They were very sympathetic, and gave me someone else's order with ham on it. I removed the ham, being a vegetarian, and gobbled it down. At this point, we'd gotten ANOTHER round of Bloody Marys, so I'd drank like 6 of them on an empty stomach. We paid the bill, which they very kindly pro-rated, and then got the hell out of there. I can't be sure, because I was quite drunk, but as I was leaving, I think I shouted, "This is the worst brunch experience I've ever had!"

Once we all got outside, I apologized to my friends for crying at brunch.

The moral of this story is, I think "Sorry I cried at brunch" would make a good tee-shirt.

Friday, November 12, 2004


I have been given the award over at HIGH TIMES of "Best Unsigned Band of the Week".
YAY! This is so exciting for me, because I smoke marijuana!

If you clicked on the HIGH TIMES link and it brought you here, please click on the SONGS link if you want to hear a free MP3, so you can decide for yourself, as the HIGH TIMES article states, and I believe it was alluding to whether or not I'm any good (based on The Onion calling me a cross between Redd Foxx and Jewel and Backstage calling me hilariously ribald). If you want to come and see me perform tonight, I'll be at Silk Road Place at 8 PM, 30 Mott St., doing dirty folk rock and filthy stand-up. If you want to see me perform on-line somewhere, visit this link:


If you are a regular reader of my blog or an accidental stumbler accrosser and want to see the HIGH TIMES blurb for yourself, visit this link:


If you don't approve of all this talk of marijuana and want to turn me in, please click on this link:


I wonder if this makes my parents proud. It's like when your daughter comes to you and shows you her Playboy centerfold spread. Playboy Models are super well-paid - it is a pretty lucritive set-up. In addition, there's a certain amount of admiration that comes with the job, lots of men and women are jealous and adoring, obsessed, fascinated, turned on, disgusted, disturbed, distraught, lots of other d-i-s words, too. Who doesn't love sluts? Are parents proud of their little whore bags? That money can pay for many, many semesters of community college.

I don't think there's anything terribly wrong with posing naked in a magazine, especially if you're using that money for something you need, like heroin.

Thanks for visiting my website if it's your first time. Visit my links to see some other sites of note. If it's not your first time, hope you come back again, and please bring some beer next time.

Wednesday, November 10, 2004


A summer or two ago (I can't remember because time and I don't keep in touch) I played a small part in a short film that my friend Nick Kroll wrote and directed. It's called "Cavalcade of Personalities" and has managed to find it's way onto Comedy Central. It will air on Sunday, November 14th at MIDNIGHT and on Wednesday, November 17th at 2 AM. Again, it's called Cavalcade of Personalities. My part is very short. I'm a pregnant woman who is considering impaling my belly on a huge pointy spear. Appropriate, eh?

So, if you get a chance to watch it, that'd be super cool. But even more important than watching it on TV, there is a link to see a segment of it on the Comedy Central Website. That link is this:

I don't know why I can't turn it into a hyper link right now! My blogger toolbar has disappeared. If I knew HTML, I'd do it by heart, dammit!

But just copy and paste it into your browser if you're one of those people who likes to watch stuff on the internet or is bored, because it will actually help us a lot to get tons of hits to the link, because it will make Comedy Central think we're awesome. So, please copy and paste the link into your browser, go to the site, and then click on the link for Cavalcade of Personalities, which is located in the Second Show group of segments. I believe it's the last one of the three on the right.


Once you guys read the letter posted below, the pun in the headline will all make sense! Maybe. Basically, Russ Meneve and Ted Alexandro, two well-reputed comics working about NYC (I think they both work mainly bigger clubs and also do TV appearances) are trying to get comedians together to form a union-like arrangement between clubs and comics so that there is fair and equal pay across the board at comedy clubs. I am not really a club working comedian in NYC. I used to perform at the Boston Comedy Club, but if you work there, it is mostly non-lucritive unless you are a national headliner or something almost as good. Had there been a union, I'd have been making some money. I'd like to go to address comedians (like me) who mostly perform at alternative venues and a lot of music clubs. I'd also like to talk about creating some kind of basic pay agreement for comedians who perform at the many rooms and booked shows around New York. At the Comic Strip, they pay every comic at least $5, every time they perform. Though $5 isn't much to some, it's a round trip subway fare and a Yoo-Hoo to others. I believe that every single comic who works anywhere ever in NYC (unless it's an open mic with the exception that they were invited to perform at the open mic as a headliner or booked act) should have to be paid $5 or $7 or be fed. Though it is menial, it is still something.

Comedians who have day jobs or comedians who pound the pavement night after night, practicing, working out and performing around the city are WORKING and they should be getting SOMETHING for that, even if it's practically nothing.

I'd also like to get bringer shows outlawed, but that's a fight for another time.

SO, read the letter below from Russ Meneve and Ted Alexandro, and if you would like to attend, remember to e-mail and let them know you're coming.

Let's kick the ass of greedy assholes who kick the asses of comedians by raping them by means of robbing them of fair pay!


Fellow Comedians,

Based on the overwhelming positive response (in excess of one hundred
NYC comedians) a meeting has been scheduled for Tuesday, November 30th,
at 3:00 pm. The location will be at the Writer's Guild of America, 555 West
57th Street (57th and Tenth Avenue). We will be assisted by a
professional negotiator for the Writers Guild, Jesus Sanchez, who has extensive
experience in cases exactly like ours.

Please, whatever your opinion, it is important that you attend the meeting. We hope to determine our collective goals founded on each individual's thoughts on what is most fair for us, as well as the club owners. Please e-mail back as soon as possible if you can make the meeting. If I may also ask each of you to make an effort to once again forward this letter to every comedian you can, as well as verbally relaying the meeting details. And you need not be a national headliner with television credits in order to attend. We want this to be an inclusive effort of all working NY comics because these are issues that affect us all, no matter what stage of our
career, and we all stand to benefit.

This is an historic opportunity to change the course of comedy in NY
and to right some of the wrongs of the past twenty years. We look forward to
your participation in this discussion.

Thank you,
Russ Meneve
Ted Alexandro

Sunday, November 7, 2004

Hi. My name is Jessica Delfino. I'd like to tell you something.
by Jessica Delfino

Well, everyone, if you're anything like me, you're less than two years away from 30 and you've stood by helplessly as plan after plan fell through your fingertips clunkily before shattering into a million bits and pieces at your foottips.

Not that I'm complaining. I like to believe that everything happens for a reason, you know? And sometimes plans get ruined for reasons. And sometimes they don't get ruined at all, but blossom into picnics and large, unexpected gifts.

I have been working for about three years in New York City as a performer and I have experienced some very intense ups and downs, as any performer in NYC surely has. But I feel like I worked extra hard. I went out almost every night (and still do) to get on stage. I'd aim for three spots a night, back when I was more depressed, but now if I do one that's satisfying enough. My peers at the comedy clubs were mostly all catty and self-righteous, judgmental and brutal in child-like ways. My own boyfriend, also a stand up comic, even would snub me. He would refuse to be seen with me at clubs!!! For a LONG time! (Until some of his idols told him they thought I was funny.)

For the first two years of doing stand-up, I mostly flailed around, telling lame jokes that weren't necessarily funny, but were at least different-ish. And sometimes, even funny. Usually sort of accidentally. About a year ago, I started playing my guitar in my act and it was like someone turned on a light switch as far as how it felt and how audiences responded. Suddenly, all the same dark jokes I was telling before that would make people cringe and treat me like I had hepatitis all of a sudden worked. Was it the music behind it? I don't know. What is the point of this all? Well, I'll tell you.

I now know what I want to do, which before, I kind of didn't. I thought maybe I wanted to just be on stage, or maybe I just wanted to swear loudly in the middle of a room into a microphone, or embarrass my parents - who knows? Now, I think I've got it. I've been giving this a lot of thought and - I realize that I am in a pretty happy state mostly, right now, and why is that? It's because I have become finacially unburdened. My boss just got a new building and he is going to let me stay there while construction is going on (the building is getting gutted) and then he is going to kick me out next year when he moves in. But it won't matter that I won't have a place to live when he kicks me out, because by then I plan to be a millionaire. So, no rent for the next few months, at least. What a load off my shoulders! I feel totally free to be able to create, because I don't have one of the huge, simple stupid stresses of the world fettering me anymore, for the time being, anyway.

I realize that money isn't the key to hapiness as so many people think it is, and it so obviously appears to solve problems, but it's the lack of the necessity of money that is the key to hapiness. Money just buys more problems.

I do plan to be a millionaire within the next few years, I'll explain more about that another time, but I only want 4 million. Why? Because I believe that I can live off the interest of that money and live comfortably for the rest of my life. I won't be buying Porsches and Jetskis, but I don't need them. I will send my sisters to college and plant some trees, stuff like that.

I just read this and it seems kind of lame, but I guess if you take anything away from this, let it be that I am happy right now. I've had a lot of readers complain that I complain too much and feel too sorry for myself, so this should make those readers feel pleased.

I sent this e-mail out a few days ago to all the press people I know. If you are a press person or if you know a press person and you want to help me in the simplest but potentially effective way that a person could help someone, please copy it and forward it to someone you know who works in the press, at a record label, at a venue, at a place that plans parties or events, or somewhere else. No matter what state or country you live in. Operation Delfino kicks it up a notch has now officially begun. Another easy way you could help would be to simply come to a show. If you enjoy it, you win, if you don't, you and your friends can make fun of me. So, either way, you win.

I realize that I have to take advantage of this time while I am unbothered financially, and I'm asking for your help.

Last night, this lady said, "You were great! You will be famous someday!" I said, "I better be, I've got a lot of debt." I wasn't lying.



As it said in the subject line, my name is Jessica Delfino, and I'd like to tell you something. (about me.) I am a filthy stand-up comedian and I also sing dirty folk rock; mostly somewhat vulgar songs that are, as Backstage put it, "hilariously ribald" - as The Onion put it, "a cross between Redd Foxx and Jewel" - and some girl also called one of my songs, "The most troubling song she'd ever heard." (Lullabye)

I have had a long and troubling life, starting with birth, and the easiest way for me to deal with the delicacies of constant dilemma and heartbreak is to write songs and jokes that are dark and perverse, glittering with a silver lining, if you will, even if that silver lining is not real silver, but maybe fake silver, or maybe even lead. It's still shiny, right?

So, with that information, I invite you if you've never seen or heard me perform before, to come to one of my following shows. I was called "the comedic discovery of June" by Comedy Central, and I also just won the Carnival Cruise Challenge (out of 75 competitors) - the prize being a paid eight day cruise where I get to perform! Imagine! Me! All perverse, Redd Fox-y, and ribald, performing on a cruise SHIP! Funny! Interesting also, as one Mr. Jeff Singer, who books an "alternative" comedy show in NYC refused to book me, citing me as "too alternative".

But, that is a bridge burning for another time, friends! On with the show information! Let's get this fire cooking with hairspray!

You might be confused as to why I'm just so boldly sending this email out to you. I'll tell you why - because I'm a guerilla performer on a guerilla mission. My main goal is to make 4 million dollars by the time I'm 32, squeeze out a fat baby or so, and write a book a year until my fingers fall off, living completely off my 4 million's interest and some of the actual dollars, too, so I can spend my days inventing strange, odd inventions, writing songs and making lots of art. The comedy clubs in NYC are the best way to get seen, but many comedy clubs won't book me because they think I'm too main stream, or not mainstream enough - I'm too alternative or too dirty, or not alternative enough - so I have to rely on odd performance spaces, 'alternative' performance spaces such as the Bowery Poetry Club or Dixon Place or The Sidewalk. They are great spaces to perform in, but don't have the clout that Caroline's or the Comedy Cellar might get.

I don't have an agent, I don't have a manager, I don't have a publicist, I don't have a trusted friend in the industry, and none of my relatives own real estate or are friends with any celebrity athletes or businessmen. I'm alone in this city, and I'm doing the best I can to not be broke and starve to death. So far, it's been an uphill battle but there are little pots of magic here and there, like getting invited to audition for the HBO Aspen Comedy Festival without even sending in a tape, though I don't perform at any of the comedy clubs, or getting invited to audition for a FUSE VJ position, though I don't have an agent or rep. Or, having Wil Wheaton link his blog to mine and call my blog "one of the funniest blogs I've ever read" though I don't know Wil Wheaton and have never met him (however, I did make out with his poster on several occasions as a budding pre-teen.)

So, what I am hoping is that if you haven't ever seen me perform, you'll come and see me, and if you like my stuff, you'll help my guerilla cause by listing interesting sounding shows that I send to you, by telling friends to come see me if you think they'd like me, by asking me some questions that I can answer in a way that comes across as effortless and hilarious on my part, and et cetera. If you hate me, feel free to write about that, too. I'm not afraid of the mean things that might come out of your mouth. I bet I can be meaner. You can't hurt me. I was abused as a child. But then, weren't we all?

Jessica Delfino
(free mp3 at site!)


TONITE!!! at the Sidewalk (6th St. & Ave A)
Dan Fishback's birthday show
7:30 Jessica Delfino
8 Rachel Schukert
8:30 Double Deuce (Toby Goodshank and sister!!!)
9:30 Jason Rabinowitz
10:30 Dan Fishback
FREE and they have good food, too.

Village Lantern (Bleecker and Sullivan)
Sat, November 6th - 9 PM to 10:30 PM
This is a sketch and stand-up show that is being put together by Diane O'Debra, one half of the smart, twisted comedic duo the O'Debra Twins. They are so funny and cute! And Diane is terrific. I'll be performing on this show. I think it's $5.

30 Mott St.
Saturday, November 13th
This show is so strange - it's run totally by asians. It's a super professional show and it is a little on the corny side, but a tight ship, they run! I will be performing. I think it's $5. It's always packed, and takes place in a cozy basement space.

Saturday, November 13th at Collective Unconscious in Tribeca 10 PM
($5 I think?)
Starring the O'Debra's, Liz Maher (hilarious and smart), Christine (bizarre character comedian - really brilliant and bright), and me. Johanna Buccola was supposed to perform on the show too, but she moved back to Washington because she hates NYC now.

Wed. November 17th, UCB Theater
Hosted by Roger Hailes
I'll be performing on this show.

So, that's it for now for November. Thanks for your help/time/pity/feelings of confusion.


Friday, November 5, 2004

by Jessica Delfino

A few years ago, I accidentally met the dude who wrote the bumper sticker "Mean People Suck." His name was Paul S. Rosa, and he also wrote the book "Idiot Letters" which was a fun book of ridiculous letters to random companies and corporations, asking questions like, "In commercials, why don't they ever show a husband and wife who are happy when they find out the pregnancy test results are negative?" and "I eat at McDonald's three times a day. Is that bad for me?"

I don't know what he's up to now because we have lost touch, but last I knew, he was living in Colorado, making a decent living off the royalties (is that what they call it in bumper sticker terminology, too?) he received from selling Mean People Suck bumper stickers at Spencer's stores all across the nation.

I was reminded of this bumper sticker today when I went to drop off a CD at the local CD duplication service I use when making mass quantities of my Dirty Folk Rock CD and the like. I've used this service several times because they are nearby, affordable, quick and friendly - the four horsemen of any good business. I even sent the company information in to the bargain issue of Backstage Magazine. Well, the last time I went to the place, some new chick was working there. She was slow, not friendly, clunky and rude - the four horsemen of unemployment. I dealt with her and hoped that was the last time I was ever to see her again, but nay! Today, she was there again when I went in. She was again, stuffy, idiotic, oblivious and rude. I am forced to assume that she is on drugs or was brutalized for most of her childhood. I always hated that stupid bumper sticker, and I certainly wouldn't have put it on my car, but the words echo through out the empty cavern of my mind when I encounter a jerk.

This leads me to believe, maybe I can benefit from this whole experience. I met the asshole, I was brought back to my memories of the bumper sticker, and also refreshed of the story that Paul told me. He said that it was actually pretty easy to sell bumper stickers to Spencer's and told me how to do it. I am going to pitch them a new line of bumper stickers, along with some fun crap inventions I've both created and pocketed over the years.

Ideas like:

Toilet paper with Osama Bin Laden and George Bush on it! Whoops, that's already been done.

I mean, a "trick" toaster that when you put bread in, it catches on fire instead, scaring the person who is supposed to be eating the toast!!! Wait, too dangerous.

How about a bowling ball that actually weighs 150 pounds! What a funny joke to see a pro-bowler pull his back out while attempting to show off in front of his teammates!

No, for reals, though, how about a real life sized Barbie Doll you can fuck? Hmmm..., seems like a guaranteed Mattel lawsuit. Is bad press always good press?

Why not a pair of glasses that if you are partially blind or visually impaired, when you look through them, you can see everything in perfect vision? Seems too easy.

I give up.

Maybe I'll just stick with buying other people's gag gifts.

Here are some bumper sticker ideas:

Mean People REALLY Suck.
Baby on. Bored.
God is my pilot light.
Don't like my driving? Call my boss and see what happens. (Hint: He won't care.)Here is his number: 917-376-9882.
MADD - Mothers Are Drunk Driving
What would Jesus do? (pronounced hay-sooce)
My other car is just as big of a piece of shit as this one.
I don't have an "other" car.
My other car is on cinder blocks.
My other car is my house.
(Wow, I'm really rollin' with these other car ones!)
I owe, I owe, so I'm off to rob a bank.
BarPigCourtdate (This is subtle - it's a take off of the fahrfeignuggit bumper stickers of old. It means, at the bar, got pulled over, court date in my future). I guess if you have to explain it...

I think that at least one of those stickers should be a big seller. Then, I'll take all the money I make from the sales and I'll purchase forgiveness of the hag at my CD rep store, and I'll buy her some hapiness. If you've learned anything from reading this, I'd like it to be that you now know who wrote the Mean People Suck sticker, or that I am amusing.

So, in the eternal words of one Mr. Jerry Springer - "Be kind to yourselves - and eachother." Or something like that.