HAPPY HALLOWEEN

I've been crazy buzy. If you're a friend of mine who'd like to come to the funnest Halloween Party ever at a huge four story building that my boss just bought in the West Village (caitered with free food, free booze, Haunted Pussy performs at 5 pm!) please call me at 917-450-4178 and leave a message. I'll call you back with details.
Party starts at 4, so call before then...

Blues Update
I feel a little bit better today. I was out and about, riding my bike around the city. I went to Stand Up NY to do the open mic they have at 6 pm, but it was cancelled. That was kind of shitty, seeing I rode my god damn bike there, and it's at 78th and Broadway.

SKETCH: Pretty Face

Skipper: You've got a pretty face, you know that, angel?
Angel: Yes.
Skipper: One thing I love about you is your modesty.
Angel: Ooh, when your sarcastic I just melt.
Skipper: I know. That's why I do it.
Angel: Skipper?
Skipper: Yes, Doll?
Angel: Skipper, I fucking hate when you call me Doll.
Skipper: Oh, baby, I'm sorry. It's just that when we're making love...
Angel: I know, I know, you already told me a hundred times, I look just like Doll.
Skipper: I miss Doll so much.
Angel: I know you miss her, but that damn dog just made a mess and shit all over the place anyway.
Skipper: I know, but shit or not, I loved that mangy old bitch.
Angel: But I'm your number one mangy old bitch, right?
Skipper: Yes, you are, Angel.
Angel: Awww....
Skipper: Aww....
Skipper: Now, go and make me a sandwich, dammit. And get me the paper off the doorstep.

(Angel trots off on all fours.)

ha ha ha - HAAAAA!

Sometimes, when I'm feeling sad, I'll have a snack, like an entire bag of chips or something. But I don't think that's such a big deal. I know a lot of women, who, when they're feeling sad, they'll have a baby.

ha ha ha - HAAAAAAAAAAA!

I'll be performing at the Teabag tonight. 30 Mott St. (downstairs) in Chinatown. Here's the number: 646-613-8887 (in case you get lost) The show starts at 8. I think it's $5. It's usually pretty diverse and interesting, if not slightly overproduced.
www.teabagopenmic.com

While I'm plugging websites, check out Haunted Pussy's new site also. If you are in need of some fun Halloween parties to go to in NYC (most of them free), check out their website. www.hauntedpussy.com

Blues

I've had the blues now for about four days straight. I've had little glimpses of happiness fall through the cracks, but mostly I'm just totally bummed. I can't exactly figure out why, maybe it's because once a month, for a week, I bleed from my vagina. Maybe it's because I'm 28 and I am single and have no children, though I'd think that should probably make me feel happy. It might have something to do with being kind of lonely. My boyfriend is out of town for a few weeks. But, I don't think so, because I've been hanging out with friends and doing lots of fun things.

Last night was the Mr. LES Pageant, but it was held in Tribeca at the new Collective Space. I went as Va-Jesus, a sexy drag king, Jesus style. I didn't even place. I was a little miffed, too, because my costume was pretty creative and the audience seemed to like me very much. I also got tons of compliments. But, I guess that compliments don't vote you into Mr. LES. Moonshine won, which, if any of you don't know him, he's a kickin' bartender at Bowery Poetry Club. He can chug a beer faster than anyone I've ever seen, he's sassy and a perfect combination of pretty and handsome, and he's got lots of tales to tell, which he does via his beautiful poetry. I don't really like most of the poetry I hear, but Moonshine's is very nice.

After the Mr. LES Pageant, we all went over to the Bowery Poetry Club and had a half hearted open mic which kind of sucked because everyone was loud and getting really drunk. But, there was a celebration going on, so that explained that, I guess.

I'm going to Nyack to perform tonight at a bar called "Olives". I don't know what to expect, but I've never been to Nyack. I'm going to take the train and then an express bus. It sounds adventurous, slightly dangerous, and probably mostly uneventful. If you live in Nyack, come visit me and buy me some anti-blooze booze.

Change of Plans

I'm not going to Florida after all for personal reasons. If you follow my blog, look into your crystal balls and I bet you can guess why quite easily.

Last night in Philly after I decided not to go to Florida for my personal reasons, I walked by the TLA and saw that the Libertines were playing, so I asked the Libertines to give me a ride back up to NYC. They were going to Boston and not NYC, but they hooked me up with a lovely couple, Kelly and Toby, and their friend Alex who lived right in NYC. I got a ride with them and we talked the whole ride home about music, as they were employs of Rough Trade Records. I don't know much about Rough Trade, only that The Moldy Peaches and the Libertines are on there.

The lead singer of the Libertines looks like a young Jimmy Page (before Jimmy Page started to look asian) and his girlfriend looks just like him. They are a very becoming little couple of Jimmy Page look alikes.

I asked Kelly and Alex what music they heard recently that they just loved, and they said they loved The Fiery Furnaces and Arcade Fire. I also got into a debate with Alex about Led Zeppelin. I love them, Alex hates them. We got home at 3 am and I immediately fell into a deep, troubled sleep.

I wrote a shitty poem to give the feelings about cancelling my trip to Florida, the ones living in my brain and belly, a home elsewhere.

The Pain of No Plane

It's good to be back in the NYC
Though I wanted to see the sand and the sea
But that's not the way things oft work out for me
my plans got messed up, now I'm in the city

I wanted to go down there and get sunned up
I wanted to get out of here and re-up
That is a word, oh, that means to re-fill
I'm empty but will not refill with a pill

Clean air called to me, and a room by the bay
And fun times that were to ensue all the day
I planned to sing some wrong songs out loud for pay
to Florida folks who don't come here to feel gay

Sorry family, sorry mom, I am bad
I am the worst daughter that ever was had
And not a good sister, my sisters would say
I love them, but guess I must stay far away

*gay in the way where gay used to mean happy, not guy on guy action gay*

Touring With the Tburgs

We left NYC very late on Friday - we were planning on leaving at 1 but didn't actually get on the road until about 5 pm. We were running late to the 9 pm load in time for the show in DC. The rush hour traffic kept us from gaining any time and the van was acting funny. As we were driving down the highway in the dark, in the pouring rain, the stereo and the windshield wipers died. Then, we noticed we had no headlights. We pulled into a rest stop and they told us we needed a new alternator. The guy did some fancy fingerwork and was able to set us up for a few miles until the car starting losing juice again. Finally, the van died for good in a parking lot in Mt. Laurel, NJ and we collectively came to the disappointing realization that we were going to miss the DC show. We set up shop at a shitty hotel called the Mount Laurel Inn. The hotel was so grody. There were what appeared to be either vomit or murder stains on the floor and wall and they didn't allow pets, which we immediately disregarded as we made a soft place for puppy family member Emma to sleep. I couldn't sleep all night because I was itching like crazy, which Rachel told me later was probably bed bugs. In the morning, my ex-boyfriend Kurt's mom let us use her AAA to get a tow to the garage. Jason and Dennis, the driver and head road chap went with the car while the ladies and Touching You showered (separately) and ate a hearty breakfast at Bob Evans.

We reconvened at the hotel and decided to spend the day walking around South Street in Philadelphia. It was a really beautiful day and we started driving towards the Ben Franklin Bridge when I remembered an awesome, huge supermarket of a thrift store in South Jersey, not far from Mt. Laurel. So, we went there and bought so much stuff. Jason got kicked out for taking the microphone over and yelling "Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players!" He said he did it to impress Rachel.

We left there and crossed the BF Bridge and went to South Street for the rest of the afternoon. It was so perfect out. It was cool and sunny and the city sidewalks in Philly are actually clean. We ate vegetarian cheese steaks and did some more shopping and then went to North Star to get loaded in. I opened up the show and had a really great set. I sold almost completely out of my CDs. Touching You, I don't want to say he "bombed" because he didn't, but a lot of people I talked to didn't like his set, and we did comment slips at the end of the show, and lots of people wrote negative things about his set. Nothing particular, they mostly wrote things like, Touching You was ASS (underlined twice) and things like that. The Trachtenburgs were great and everyone loved them. My friend Tim from college showed up and saw the end of TY's set and all of the Tburgs. He invited us all to crash at his place in Philly, which we did. In the am, we woke up and went back to South Street where we walked around, bought more stuff, ate at Whole Foods and enjoyed the day. Twice, the Tburgs got recognized by adoring fans and TY got nervous that someone might recognize him and say he sucked.

At the end of the day after all the fun, we slowly trudged back to the van and I said goodbye to everyone. Tears were shed by Rachel and I. She is so adorable. She said, "Mom, Dad, I want Jessica to come with us on tour!" I couldn't go though, because there really wasn't enough room for me to go for the whole trip in the van, it was already super packed without me. Also, I'm booked to perform in Sarasota at McCurdy's Theater from the 20th - 24th of October. But I really did want to go and I know they would have loved for me to come if circumstances were a little different. They said they'd take me on my own two week tour, which I am sure they will someday. I walked away before the van drove off and cried as I wandered down Spruce St. It's almost that time of the month, you know that time, the time where about once a month, for about a week, I bleed out of my vagina. So during that time, a toodle might be a more sensitive issue where it would otherwise be a simple goodbye.

Now, I'm in Philly at Tim's house. I'm leaving for Tampa in the AM and going to do a few open mics in Philly tonight. I'm in a sad mood, I guess, because the T's and TY will be gone for two weeks and I will miss them. They are really like my surrogate family, especially TY. I think the sun shines directly out of his asshole. I've even looked directly into it before and I'd do it again. See y'all in Tampa.

Headed South

I'm going to be in Washington, DC tonight with the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players. Tomorrow night in Philadelphia at North Star. I'm headed south after that to Florida for a bit. I'm going to be in Sarasota from Oct. 20-24th at McCurdy's Comedy Theater. If anyone is in Florida and wants to come visit me, please do. Or, if you want to take me out to lunch while I'm down there, (Patrick) call my cellphone - 917-450-4178. Also, at this point, I'm still looking for a ride south. If you know someone who's headed south, please call and tell me. If not, I'm going to rent a car and drive myself, but that seems like a huge waste of space, gas, etc. I was going to hitch hike, but all my friends are freaking out about it and I'm sure I'll get killed if I do, just to prove my boyfriend right. So, I guess that plan is out. I have been checking craigslist but I think I missed all the rides by a day or two.

I'll be updating my blog from the road. See you back in NYC Oct. 28th.

WHAT HAPPENED HERE?
Photo Series

I've started working on a photo series called "What Happened Here?" I've been riding my bike around the city a lot and I see a ton of strange sights that leave me practically asking aloud, "What (the hell) happened HERE?" Maybe that's really what the show should be called. I took several photos today. What inspired the series was an innocent, ordinary enough occurence: I was riding my bike through Williamsburg the other day, I think I was on Wythe St. or around N. 5th, and I saw a pair of pink underwear flattened on the dirty asphalt. They'd been run over a bunch of times but they were still mostly intact. I thought about all the different scenarios that could have taken place to bring those underwear to that spot, and I snapped a photo, so I could remember that moment forever. As I was riding away, I thought of the idea to take pictures of all those kinds of odd things I see and put them together in a show I would call, "What happened here?" I might even do some detective work and try to find out what did happen there. And if I can't figure out what actually happened, then I'll make something up that will probably be much more imaginative than the actual thing that happened, though sometimes spontaneously interesting things happen that are very crazy and/or bizarre. You all listen to, watch, or read the news, right?

Today, I saw several things that I captured with my camera to use in this show. I won't tell you what they are, I'll leave it as a surprise, but I will tell you this: I was riding my bike down 2nd or 3rd Avenue on my way back down to the cozy little lower east side, and I saw this installation on the sidewalk that was very demanding. It was a few very charred up objects that maybe were supposed to represent "New York" or "driving" or "being on the street" or what have you, objects such as a street light, a garbage can full of garbage, a street pole with a bike chained to it, and a parking meter. All of them were obviously burned just a few points before becoming unrecognizable objects. Then, behind it was a huge advertisement on a wall, giving service to Nissan Maxima. Inside the wall, an entire real live Nissan Maxima, white, was parked. It was a lot of work for what they were trying to say. They could have just parked the car on the street. Why don't car companies do that - just give away a few thousand cars so that college kids will drive their friends around in them and advertise while also running errands or having fun!

It was a pretty neat exhibit, I guess, was what it was, but I know the credit shouldn't get to go to Nissan Maxima. Some artist is out there somewhere who did those pieces, burned them in their studio or what have you, otherwise perhaps they were actual objects burned in an actual fire somewhere, maybe 9/11 or something. But I doubt it. They looked good, though. The general idea of the ad was like, Nissan Maxima will burn your eyes out or something. It's so hot, it's on fire. It melts parking meters and lamp posts whenever you drive by them. It's a dangerous, dangerous, hot car. That is on fire.

I wonder how much the dude or chick got who came up with the idea to do the ad, versus the dude or chick who actually made that burned up art?

SONG FOR SOMEONE WHO LEFT THEIR CLOTHES IN THE WASHER FOR TWO DAYS

I know that you live in my building
I saw all your clothes in the washer
I tried to put mine in but yours were there sitting,
and I couldn't tell you to take them out, dammit
Because I don't know you or where I could find you
So I had to touch all your underwear and shit
I put them on top of the washing machine
A layer of dust made it's home in between
And put my clothes in, I had somewhere to be
And not in the basement of Pitt 63
I hope you don't think that I'm rude or a hag
But if you leave your clothes too long in the wash
And I am the one who does find them astray
I'll steal a nice shirt before I'm on my way
I feel that will teach you that no one's your maid
And especially not me, unless I'm getting paid

COMMENT BOARD CRAZINESS!! NOT...

Someone wrote on my comment board that I am stupid because I misspell weird or wierd every time I write it. This is what I have to say about people leaving retarded comments on my comments boards, or any comment, really. When people write comments on my board under a pseudonym like "ME" or something equally uncreative and then in addition to being such a spineless pussy that they won't even identify themselves, they write a comment that just absolutely clear as day so poigniantly outlines their idiocy to me and anyone else who reads it, it is boring to everyone involved, and even makes the world in general a more boring place. Even the most mentally challenged of readers out there are surely impressed by the lack of creativity of some of my commentors! Please stop writing dumb and anonymous comments, readers. They can be anonomous, but try to make them interesting, preferrably funny or smart, bonus if they're both. Should you have the wherewithall to go ahead and try to be inspired in your insults, and you write something smart that either makes me laugh or cry, I will give you credit and send you a prize. Every once in a while, I am actually impressed by the creativity of some of you zingy slingsters. I even have to give a shout out to my bitchy sister Abby for bitch smashing me with some harsh and funny rude comments. But, it is rare. Most of the time, I am disappointed by how sadly sucky everyone's insults are.

Don't use this as an invitation to write more sucky bullshit on my comment boards, however, just because you feel like writing insults. I am saying, if you were planning on insulting me anyway, then you can go ahead and try to write something more....you know..., good. Everyone else, be as you were.

UPDATE UPDATE

So, I'm getting ready to travel with the Trachtenburg's and The Liquid Tapedeck for two shows: 10/15 in DC and 10/16 in Philadelphia. More details at www.slideshowplayers.com. After that, I'm coming back to NYC to pack, and then I'm going down to Tampa, FL. for a little over a week. I'll probably do some shows on the way down and in Tampa, which I'll post on my website as I figure it out. I'm the world's most spontaneous performer. I doubt that, but it feels like it sometimes. So, if anyone is interested in hooking up along my travels, I want to meet some artists and see some stuff. E-mail me at jessdelfino@yahoo.com.

Also, if you are having a party and would like me to perform at it while I'm down South, I think that would be pretty fun, as long as it's not the kind of party where they burn people alive in the name of god for talking about vaginas. I've heard about parties like that. I bet they aren't that fun.

I would like to tell you all a tale of woe, but jeez, sorry - I just don't have one right now.

I'm testing a photo program for Blog.
Hi!

My Submission: How I Lowered My Cholesterol
*As part of the Honey Nut Cheerio's 2004 Healthy Heart Writing Contest
by Dick Cheney

I am writing this story as part of the National Honey Nut Cheerios “How I Lowered My Cholesterol” Writing Contest.

I’d like to start out by saying, I’m not much of a writer. I don’t really have time to write stories, I’m often quite busy thinking about things that need to be done in the White House. I spend countless hours thinking, “What can I do to fix America?” Sometimes I spend entire days contemplating the issues that face us as a nation. But when I’m not overwhelmed giving serious thought to the pressing dilemmas that confront the people of this country, I like to play golf. And when I’m not doing that, I have free time to do things just for me, like enter this writing contest.

I am not a big contest winner. I never really win anything. Sure, I won the seat as the Vice President of America, which is simply proof that if you think about things a lot and go to a good school, you too can become the Vice President of the United States of this great country. I remember one time when I was much younger, in my 50s or 60s, I guess, I found a roll of hundred dollar bills in a jacket pocket, but that wasn’t really a contest, it was more just me putting on a jacket. And, the money was mine already, so it wasn’t even really a prize. But it felt like I’d won a prize. Not the money. Money isn’t a prize to me. I have so much money that to me, finding a roll of hundreds in a jacket pocket might be like a regular American finding a crumpled up snot rag. No, that’s not right, it’s probably more like finding a match book with the phone number of a person you met at a bar who’s companionship you might like to buy for an hour, but you also thought that they might be a little crazy, you know, crazy in a way that could come back to haunt you through the press, so you weren’t sure. The fact that I found something in my pocket at all was the part that was like winning something. It wasn’t the fact that I found a roll of hundreds, I have so many millions of dollars that honestly, a roll of hundreds to me is like a book someone gave me for my birthday. I might get around to it, but I’ll probably die first.

Anyway, as most of America probably knows, I had very high cholesterol and some heart problems stemming from high cholesterol. People say that the rich have it easy, but trust me, the rich have it even harder sometimes. Having total access to anything you want is a curse. I have eaten a steak dinner every single day since the day I was born. What choice

did I have? I didn’t ask my parents to make me be rich and eat steak every day. That choice was decided for me by God. I ate steak for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day for close to 60 years. Finally, my heart simply exploded. I was taken to the hospital by some people who are paid to take me places. The kind men at the hospital operated on me. If I hadn’t been rich, I don’t know what I would have done. My heart exploding should have killed me, but it didn’t. When I woke up alive and healthy again, the bill for the operation might have really killed me for real, had I not been as rich as God, which I do happen to be. On a side note, actually, NASA, who’s run by an old buddy of mine from college – you know NASA, right? They are in charge of doing stuff with outer space? Well, the guy in charge over there, we gave them a few billion dollars to get some “work” “done”, wink wink, nudge nudge, and one of the experiments they did was to find out who was richer, me or God. And it turns out that God is richer, but only by a small number, and if my projected investments and various crooked scams work out, which they will, because they have every single other time, I will die richer than God. How many men can say that? Not many. Not many at all. But the men who can say that – I know them all personally.

Now, some people, like the people who wrote the bible, say, “It’s easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to pass into heaven.” I disagree. It’s hard for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, if not impossibly impassible, and rich men can get into heaven, especially if they happen to play golf with a certain Mr. Jesus H. Christ. Which I do.

But enough about money, why does it always come back around to that? I was talking about my heart and how I lowered my cholesterol. I guess I’m supposed to mention something about Honey Nut Cheerios too, like how I ate a bowl every day or something, or how I own the company, which I don’t, but I easily could with one phone call. But the truth is, I didn’t really use Honey Nut Cheerios to lower my cholesterol, I used American dollars, and plenty of them. But while I’m on the topic, I’ll tell you this: Honey Nut Cheerios are good. I’m pretty sure I have had them. Maybe in college, during my slummin’ it dorm days. Believe it or not, I ate ramen noodles! They were these very expensive Japanese black ramen noodles. I’d order them from this nice Asian joint around the corner. So, it wasn't exactly the same as when say, an inner city scholarship winner says he ate ramen noodles in college, but the basic principle is there.

In closing, I guess the bottom line comes down to this: My heart is a fat, bloated lazy old asshole that wants to take a nap. I don't think that Cheerios can help that, but it's a good company, they've always done as they were told, voted republican and most of all, provided America with the recipe for a nutritious lifestyle, made mostly with ingredients which come from other countries picked by migrant workers. Now, that's my kind of breakfast.

Wierd Day.

I deejayed at East Village Radio today for almost two hours, then some mechanic had to come and shut off the power for something. I guess so he didn't die while he was fixing stuff. The station is a tiny storefront and so people can pass right by and see you in the window deejaying, so they poke their heads in and bug you, which is nice if the person bugging you happens to be cool or interesting or cute or what have you, but when the guy is a fat CD salesman with a missing front teeth row, I wonder if I should start taking bets on how long before I meet the loser of my dreams?

I left EVR and pretty much had to start getting ready to perform tonight. I was at the Laugh Lounge on Essex St. for a Carnival Cruise Comedy Contest. I stopped by the Laugh Lounge yesterday to drop something off and started chatting with Al, one of the people who put the contest together. He asked if I was a comic, I said yes, then he asked if I was auditioning. I said no, so he invited me to audition. I said OK, mostly because I thought it'd be fun to just do a set in the middle of the day and I only live right around the corner from Laugh Lounge. So, I got my guitar and sort of had to wait around a bit as is the way with most auditions. I watched the comics auditioning and I felt terrible watching them. Some of them were so incredibly bad that I winced in horrified disappointment at every punchline, if they even had a punchline, which most times they didn't. But, I think that sometimes and then I go up to perform and I eat a ball sandwich myself, so who am I to say? But I think I can tell a piece of shate when I smell one. And there were many a shate lien on the floor that dae.

Therefore, I can say I wasn't too surprised when I made the top ten cut. I went to the contest tonight, with the ten chosen from last night, and just creamed them all. Each comic did their set and then the judges would kind of American Idol them, criticising their outfits and their delivery and their writing. Some of the judges were really harsh to the comics, saying things like, "You need to write better jokes, your jokes weren't really funny," things that are very harsh to any person to hear, let alone a performer while they're standing in front of an audience on a stage. I was very happy to hear them being brutally honest to these mushy soft comics and part of the reason why is because I am a sad person inside and it brings me great joy to see others in pain. Not to say that I'm not a newish comic, but I can take criticism. I don't like it, and I wasn't looking forward to getting it from these cruise ship director guys. So, I mentally prepared to get abused by a row of stupid jerks, then they gushed over me, saying they thought I was so funny and they loved me. Except one judge, Eddie Brill. I know Eddie because we've performed on a show or so together and he has been a comic forever, he works at Letterman doing audience warm up I think, and also might book comics on it, I'm not really sure. He said that I'd never, ever work a cruise ship because my material was too dirty. I was actually relieved when he said that because I didn't mean to win the damn contest. I wasn't planning to go on any old people filled boats any time soon. He also said that I touched the microphone too much, and I should give the audience a chance to relax and get ready for the next song or something like that. He gave me a relatively kind review, even so, especially compared to what he said to some of the others.

Afterwards it was really nice. They called me up as the first place winner and I got to meet all the judges, who all gave me their cards and talked to me about the prize, which is a booking as a comic on a cruise ship, which pays quite well, I hear, and all the costs and accomodations are covered by them, also I get to perform at the Edinburgh Festival. I am so excited about that because I've never been to Scotland or anywhere, and I'd like to taste haggus, even if I am a vegetarian. Do you know what haggus is? It's this meat hotdog sausage shit that is huge and very beefy. And people eat it in Scotland.

I hope I don't come across as sounding like a huge asshole in this entry. But I think if that were the case I've done it anyway in every entry before this one. I have been doing comedy for about three years, and I've paid tons of dues. Three years isn't that long, but I ate SO SO SO much god damn shit at the stupid comedy clubs from peers and audiences alike, and Eddie Brill summed up my feelings to me as I went up to get my prize. I said, "Wow, I don't get to see this kind of reaction that much..." and Eddie replied, "It's adulation. Enjoy it."

If you are rich, you should come on the cruise I'm going to be on. It's on June 6th, so if you're not rich, you have time to start saving now. I think it's like $1000 bucks, and you get massages and there are pools.

I'm on the radio right now!!!! Tune in at www.eastvillageradio.org. This is fun. I want people to call me so that I know even one person is listening. The number here is 212-254-7104. Call me up and request a song that I don't have to play for you.

ALL TYPES OF NEWS

I'm deejaying today at the East Village Radio from 3-4 pm. East Village Radio is over at 1st and 1st - it's this tiny little store front radio station just a few doors down from Gringer Appliance store, on the same side of the street (the west side.) The phone number to the studio is 212-254-7104. I've got a ton of great music that I'll be playing - all songs by local musicians who I like, such as Phoebe Croix, The Tapedeck, The Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players, Nachi, and more. If you know me, or even if you don't, stop by the studio and give me your CD and I'll put a song on for you if I can fit it in. At this point I've got the line up pretty much ready to go, but if you are either very talented or very attractive, maybe we can make some room for you.

The website is: www.eastvillageradio.org - That is where you can go to get the live stream to be able to hear the station's broadcast. It's not on the FM dial because the FCC prides themselves on keeping the airwaves boring. If you try to call the studio and you can't get me, try my cell - 917-450-4178. You can also e-mail me songs at jessdelfino@yahoo.com and if I can't fit them in today, the next time I dj I'll put them on. I was going to call myself DJ JD, but then I heard that the chick from Le Tigre calls herself that already. Dammit. Any suggestions?

In other news, I was working yesterday at the Underground Comedy Festival, helping out and what not, and I had to stop into the Laugh Lounge. I went in and started chit chatting with the folks there who were running a Carnival Cruise audition (you know, auditioning comics to work on the cruise ships.) And the guy asked me if I wanted to audition - Al, his name was. I said yes, of course, and ran home to get my guitar. I went on pretty late in the line up and just did a short 3 minute set as was the audition proceedure. Then, later you had to call a number to see if you made the finals. I called the number and I made the god damn finals. The finals are tonight at the Laugh Lounge at 8 pm, but here's the problem - I am performing tonight already. I want to do both. I didn't expect to even make the cut because my material is generally too dirty for that kind of thing, but I should have known I would have gotten picked because I had plans already.

The show is decided by audience participation, so the people will bring a bunch of their friends to have a good reaction. I don't have any friends, so I guess I'll just have to rely on being funny. Shit. I hope I can pull it off.

If you love or have never seen Haunted Pussy, there will be a great Haunted Pussy show at 180 Orchard St. tonight at 7 pm. There will be four half hour sets, one at 7, 7:30, 8 and 8:30. Each will be full of mayhem. The show is free. Also, see the huge write up on p. 160 of this week's Village Voice, complete with photo! (There's a pic in the contents page also.)

If anyone can help out with the Haunted Pussy show tonight, one or two people are needed to help. Free beer and snacks for helpers. Meet at 180 Orchard St. bt. Stanton and Houston at 6:30 pm. Ask for Bilge Baron.

UNDERGROUND COMEDY FESTIVAL

This week from October 4th - 10th is the Second Annual Underground Comedy Festival. This started up last year as a small project brought to us by the mind and budget of one Mr. George Sarris. George is a dude who worked on Wall St. for a bunch of years and then, one day, he decided he was done with it and retired early. He started trying to perform as a stand up comic and then realized that it wasn't his cup of tea. So, he instead put his skills to work to create this festival. The first year it was pretty small. This year, it's huge, with over 100 events at dozens of venues around the city. I've been working with him on some aspects of the festival, and after seeing the amount of effort and the huge overwhelming response from Industry and Talent, I'm very excited to see what comes out of it all.

I'm performing on a few of the shows -

MONDAY at Village Lantern
8 PM
Bleecker btw. Sullivan and Thompson
with Zeroboy, Ross Bennett, Catie Lazarus, more.

TUESDAY at Laugh Lounge
8 PM (Chicks N Giggles)
Essex St. btw. Stanton and Rivington
with Erin Foley, others. All female!

FRIDAY at The Lion's Den
8 PM (8 O'clock Fridays show)
with Tom McCaffrey, others!

If you have never seen me perform before but you think you might like to, and you don't know which of those three shows to go to, but were thinking of going to see one of them, if you do go to one, go to the Monday one. Go to all three, they'll all be great, but if you have to pick one, let it be the Monday one. I'll tell you why the next time I write.

SOME RANDOM THOUGHTS

I ride my bike everywhere. Sometimes I almost get hit. Sometimes I almost hit people. The other day, I got car doored. That is when someone is getting out of a taxi or what have you and then they cream you in the body and bike with the open door. It's a skill that requires both obliviousness and perfect timing in order to properly pull off. I got knocked off my bike and fell into/on a police van. The guy got out of the taxi (he was getting out anyway) and was very apologetic, but he was also foreign and probably scared that he might get deported or something. The cop, on the otherhand, was so blaze it was incredible! He at first didn't even say anything, even though his van had just been smashed into by a woman on a bike. After I started crying, he poked his head out of the window to see what was going on. He asked me if I was okay and I said yes. I got on my bike and rode away, banged up and irritated that I just had gotten manhandled by a car door.

A couple of days later I noticed them - the huge bluish/purple lumpy bruises that popped up on my right hip, my right knee cap and the inside of my left calf. The bruises were so big and dark that they kind of scared me. I thought they might come loose inside my body and float around like little boats or something. I had never had bruises that big before. The bruise on my hip was so huge that I couldn't lay on my side or else it hurt too much. I started to get irritated with myself for not getting contact info for the guy who slammed me. But what if I had? What are my rights in that situation as a bike rider who was going in the right direction and just happened to get whacked with a car door? He didn't break my leg or twist my ankle, he just gave me several large, ugly bruises. So he wouldn't be responsible for hospital bills or anything like that, but what about my god damn hot legs? Now I have these huge knots on my legs, it looks like the kind of thing that an ex-boyfriend (who I might have put a restraining order on) pushed me down a flight of stairs and then dragged me back up them again. So, I just have to go around like this and deal with it? I guess so. But I think it's bullshit. And now that I know what happens post car dooring, if I ever get car doored again, I am going to demand money. But I've created a method. I'd like to implement it. So, if you get car doored, stick to it. Soon, it will be the going rate and people won't be so quick to open the taxi door without taking a moment to look around.

This is what I've decided. I'm going to explain that though I look fine, I will be getting bruises. I'll say that I'll call them in three days and they can look at the bruises. For each bruise, I'm charging $100. If the bruise is a wierd new bruise color that I don't usually see, say, yellow, it's an extra $50 per color. If I talk to them in three days and show them the bruises and they don't seem sorry enough, that's an extra $100. If they seem really sorry, I won't charge them a pseudo-sorry fee. If any skin is broken, I'm charging $50 per inch of scrape or cut. If it's less than an inch, it's $50. According to my math, I'd have earned $300 for bruises, ($100 each) each bruise was blue, purple, yellow and red. Blue and purple are normal, but yellow and red? That's an extra $100 per bruise, so that's another $300. Then I guess the rest would have had to depend on his attitude. Also, I'd have gotten no scratch fees because my skin hadn't been broken.

In total, I would have gotten $600!!! Perfect! When you get paid $600 after getting car doored, it really takes some of the pain out of it. I could make a living getting car doored, I get knocked around by oblivious timely taxi patrons so often.

So if you ride a bike, write down the scale I came up with, and keep it in your bicycle basket for handy reference at the appropriate time!

(some of) MY VERSION OF BICYCLIST's RULES

1. Don't get killed by a car or bus.
2. Try not to get car doored, but if you do, use the handy fee schedule from above!
3. Say sorry or pardon me if you come too close to any pedestrian.
4. Try to respect the lights, but you can run a red if no one is around.
5. It's okay to spit on cars if they almost hit you or are careless.
6. It's okay to throw trash or a soda or pennies at a car if they almost hit you or are careless.
7. It's okay to punch pedestrians who yell at you for riding in the wrong direction because you almost ran them over, if they happen to be jay walking.
8. Don't ever ride your bike on the street in the rain. Use the sidewalk. It's too dangerous.
9. Riding on the sidewalk is okay if it's late at night, it's raining, it's evil rush hour traffic, or you are hurt or tired. If anyone gives you any shit about riding your bike on the sidewalk, it's okay to spit on them, or follow them home and spit on their pets.
10. Ignore bike messengers when they hit on you unless they're really cute. But they're usually gross.

There are so many more! I should write a book. Maybe I will.