Sunday, July 31, 2005

The Story of the Fake Tooth in me
by Jessica Delfino

TRUE STORY: One of my front teeth is fake.

I got pushed off a boat by my dad when I was about 6. Does that sound harsh to you, the reader? It probably sounds less harsh than it actually was.

First of all, my dad was my step-dad, not even my real dad. He probably had no right to be pushing me anywhere. We were in a dinghy (another word for boat) fishing in the reeds in a river in Maine. I sat aperched upon the boat's siderail, life-vest framing my face and body like a dramatic and ugly hair-do. My dad said, "Hey Jess, wanna go swimming?" I looked up at him, a blue-eyed-doe-eyed girl in all my 6 year old glory, and squawkily replied with trust, with love, with naivete', "Yeah, dad!" He then briskly shoved me into the murky, shallow waters, whence I immediately smashed my face and teeth into the side of the boat in a panicked frenzy of gasping and hand-thrashing. I was a very insecure child.

THIS IS WHY, I BELIEVE, I WAS AN INSECURE CHILD:

When I was five, I saw my mom get locked inside a laundry mat. She had been drying her wets, and the mean man said it was closing time, half an hour early. My mom said, "I still have a half hour, mister," and he said, "It's my mini-evil empire, and if I say beat it, you gotta beat it." So, my mom said, "I'm not leaving til my laundry's done, buddy." So, the guy locked her in the damp laundry store. My mom is a strong, doesn't take any shit kind of mom. So, her next move was to pick up the chair-attached-to-table-attached-to-chair and lunge it over her head through the plate glass window, like some medieval war heroine. (Xena, She-ra, etc.)

The guy promptly started shitting in his pants. He said, "Now, I'm gonna have you arrested!" She climbed out the window, yelling, "Now, I'm gonna kick your ass!"

A chase ensued, and my Aunt, who had been watching the whole thing with me in the parking lot took me inside so I wouldn't be witness to the bloody beating which the bad man was about to experience.

Later, my mom would come home and hide the pot pipe, just moments before I watched her get arrested by the police. I was such a cute kid. I remember asking the cop, "Are you gonna take my mom to jail?" I thought it might help.

This all seems much funnier in my head than it's actually probably coming out.

HENCE: I feared my mother would be taken away from me for the remainder of my childhood. That feeling gave way to the fear in my teens that she would never leave me alone.

WHICH BRINGS US BACK TO: He then briskly shoved me into the murky, shallow waters, whence I immediately smashed my face and teeth into the side of the boat in a panicked frenzy of gasping and hand-thrashing.

A chunk of my front tooth about the size of a pea is rotting as we speak on the bottom of the muddy river of Jefferson, Maine's Damariscotta Lake. Unless a fish ate it, got caught, and then went into a person/bear's tummy. Then it's in the woods somewhere.

My dad refused to fix my broken tooth, (which perhaps eventually led to my broken youth) and insisted I instead brave the evil child years of grammar school with half a front tooth. I believe this is part of the reason I nick-named him dookey daddy over dinner one night. My sisters and I chanted this at him, forks in hand banging on the table, as all we sat eating dinner. It infuriated him so badly, he screamed at us, stopped to spit his food out, screamed at us some more, then picked the chewed up bite of steak back up, put it in his mouth and finished chewing it when he was done yelling.

LATER: In college, I got a job at Banana Republic. Part of my job was to make a spiffy khaki display using these plexiglas sheets covered in some kind of contact tape. Another part of my job was to peel the sheets of contact tape off. As I did this to one, it came flying up and hit me in the chipped tooth, and chipped it some more. I reported my chip in my chipped tooth to a supervisor, and she insisted I leave and go to the local Banana Republic dentist to get it looked at right away. I did. And got paid to do that!

In his office, he told me that he could remove the whole tooth and replace it with this special space-age porcelain (the same stuff they make toilets with) which is exactly like a tooth in every way. It feels like a tooth, looks like a tooth, tastes like a tooth, even reflects light - just like a real tooth. They are made in Sweden using some kind of hi-tech computer generating thing, and cost $10,000 each. He said it would be Banana Republic's treat. I said yes.

During the whole ordeal, I had a fake fake front tooth for awhile. He made it out of some shittier crap that wasn't like a real tooth at all. It was like a huge piece of obvious. It could have been corn or chicklets, or some other foodthing. It was grosser than gross. But then, I got my new big white ten grand tooth.

FAST FORWARD, 7 YEARS to PUSSYCAT LOUNGE, NYC:
During a performance with my band, I accidentally smashed my front tooth with the microphone in a particularly passionate performance, and re-cracked my ten thousand dollar tooth.

I guess some things were meant to be, and one of them was that there was meant to be a chipped front tooth in me.

Saturday, July 30, 2005

Notice the "P" in this POOL

I walked around the other scorching, stifling day to try to find some sweet relief in the form of a chlorinated, over-crowded pool. I found a nice pool on Thompson St. near Spring St. and my heart welled with sweaty joy until I realized it was a children-only pool. What do kids know about being hot and overworked? Why should they get all the cool water? Why isn't there a 29 year olds only pool somewhere?

So, I took an over-heated walk over to the pool at Varick St. and Carmine, and when I got there, I noticed the pool was swarming with sharks - the men kind. It was also just about to shut down for a break, I assume to torture hot New Yorkers so that when they opened it back up it'd seem that much more awesome.

As I was walking away, I rounded the corner and noticed the line - about 150 loud teenage people long. If that wasn't intimidating enough - there was a sign that read, "No bathroom available until 5:30 PM." That meant when the pool opened at 4, there'd be no place to "go" for an hour and a half - no place, that is...except for a cool, chlorinated body of water encased in plastic and tile.

New York City really puts the poop in pool. Why not just have a public shit and piss pit? Knowing this city, it's slated for 2006. I won't be surprised if they even charge admission.

It's disturbing to know that in a city with a budget of 50 Billion dollars, they can't toss a grand to the toilet department at the public pool.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

DID YOU GUYS HEAR THE ONE ABOUT THE LAME COMEDY SKETCH?
The sin of this sketch isn't that it was offensive or wrong, the offense is that it was fucking boring. What would have been better is if they'd had a bomb threat sketch where they actually blew up the theater. That's what I would have done if I was in the festival. I would have bombed, I'm saying....


Head of comedy festival admits hoax bomb threat was inappropriate

From Yahoo exclamation mark news:

MONTREAL (CP) - The head of the Just for Laughs comedy festival admitted Friday a skit involving a hoax bomb threat was inappropriate on the same day that London was again the target of bombers.

"When I made the crack, we weren't aware of the attacks in London," Gilbert Rozon said.

"If we had known, we certainly wouldn't have done it."

On Thursday, a technician gave Stephan Bureau, who was hosting a show at the festival, a note saying there had been a bomb threat.

Rozon and two other people then emerged dressed as firefighters before he told the audience through a megaphone that it was "just for laughs."

Nobody complained, he said.

Rozon added that the gag had been conceived on Wednesday, a day before one person was injured when three London subway stations and a bus were the target of bombers.

Rozon said the hoax idea came about because Dieudonne, a French comedian who was being interviewed at the time, is often the subject of various threats for comments deemed by some to be anti-Semitic.

Thursday, July 21, 2005

KITSCH ADMIRERS, PHOTO BUFFS, CHEAPSKATES, POOR ARTISTS, SPONTANEOUS PEOPLE,
ART LOVERS, SLIDE COLLECTORS, HISTORY AFFICIONADOS, TRACHTENBURG FANS and others
TAKE NOTE:

Ever wanted to see the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players
but didn't have 15 clams to see the show?

(They accept clams as payment.)

They're filming a free live DVD taping on Friday, July 29th from 1:45 - 6 PM at the Lamb's Theater, 130 W. 44th St. bet. 6th and 7th Aves. So, show up around 1:30 and look for a bunch of yuppies, or hippies, or kids or whoever. No charge!

The Trachtenburgs are a family which travel around the world with their famous slide/rock n roll comedy act. Mom is on the slide projector, Dad is on keys/guitar and 11 year old Rachel is on drums. They buy slides at old estate sales and make projected videos to songs with (and about) the slides. Many of their songs are about people who are long dead.

Never-the-less, this show is an all-ages show.

They are wonderful people, as well as being hugely entertaining and successful showman and ladies. And they have a cute puppy too, named Emma who sometimes attends and is in the show.

They have a show running right now at the Lamb's Theater for a few more dates, but it's not free, or being filmed for posterity. It's only free on JULY 29TH from 1:45 - 6 PM.

RSVP at audience4321@yahoo.com if interested / available.

I've seen them perform like, 29 times and every show has been a lot of fun....and Jason (dad) is funny.

"Raising cocker spaniel puppies is outrageous! Better check for kennel cough...cause I hear you might catch it..."
- Mountain Trip to Japan, 1969

Learn more about the Trachtenburgs at: www.slideshowplayers.com

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

JESSICA DELFINO - BACK FROM THE UNDEAD

It's been awhile since I've written. I've been very busy doing a whole bunch of nothing that kind of translates to something, in my mind anyway, and hopefully will parlay into something worth while...if any of that makes any sense.

This is what has been going on as of late:

FAMED WRITER BYRON COLEY and SONIC YOUTH'S THURSTON MOORE reviewed my CD "Dirty Folk Rock" in the latest "Arthur" Magazine, and gave me a pretty nice review. I'm the first order of business in the column "Bull Tongue" and they even mentioned putting my song "Rock N Roll Pussy" on their Arthur compilation CD, if they ever make it. It's the best review I've received to date, and makes my "famous people who have heard of me" tally now at 3. (Including Wil Wheaton, who linked to this very blog not quite 2 years ago.)

In other news, I'm still poor.

But maybe this will help: I'm in the works with a distribution deal to put my songs on I-Tunes and Napster, as well as Yahoo! Music and other major on-line distributors. This is exciting to me as it means that if and when people buy my songs, I will get paid money. I haven't seen money in so long, I have started paying for things with sea shells and those blue "tickets" that they give you at rock concerts and amusement parks. (I have a lot of them saved up.)

They won't be up for at least 2 months, so don't bother to try to look for them, dude who has a crush on me, I mean, my Uncle In Law, Bruce.

I'm working on my second CD called "SuperDark" which was supposed to be out like, a year ago. I started recording it at Tickle Dracula Studio in Williamsburg. I don't know if that's the actual name of the studio, but it's the studio of my friend's band, "Tickle Dracula." They are a wierd hybrid of surf-rock and comedy. You can learn more about them at www.captainhilarious.com or www.tickledracula.com. And by you, I mean YOU.

Let's take a trip to Florida to visit my mom. Who's driving?

In closing, here is a poem:

I just cleaned out a damp, dank basement.
It was dirty and smelled like moldy vases.
But it was work that needed doing
I don't blame the cows for mooing
I wish I was in Canada for Just For Laughs
But I pissed off Jeff Singer, so he got the last laugh
So, instead I'll just be cleaning garbage out of someone's basement
Which is dirty and smells a lot like moldy vases.

And here's a joke:

JOKE: Why do men commit more murders than women?

ANSWER TO JOKE: Because women know what a pain in the ass it is to clean up blood!

I mean, am I right, or am I just covered in basement soot?

Friday, July 1, 2005

I am dying to leave NYC for awhile. I'm thinking of setting out on a tour, "Jewel" style. But these kinds of trips work better with some planning in advance.

I need suggestions of cities / comedy clubs / variety shows / rock clubs / events that I should look into performing at / in / on. Anywhere in the US is helpful, and I am planning on being in Edinburgh in August, so if anyone has some Scotland / England suggestions, that might be helpful as well.

As for people leaving obnoxious comments on my blog, why not be supportive instead? When was the last thing you did anything to make the world a better place, or even took a chance and did something interesting or creative? And community service to pay back for a crime you committed / high school year book club doesn't count.

And finally, comment board naysayer: As far as anything goes on this blog, I am the boss, and on this blog, I am perfect. You envy my creamy thighs and romanesque profile. You wish you had my round, curvaceous buttocks in your mouth!