LAST NIGHT WITH CORN MO

The tour has been going very great - the crowds have been amazing. It turns out kids love dirty folk songs! I've met some very nice and unique people, such as a freakish clown man traveling on the Barnum & Bailey Circus train (in Dallas), a couple in DC who fly to Atlantic City to gamble...on their "own" plane, Tina's parents (it was like she was immaculately conceived - I had no idea she had family!), a couple in Asheville, NC who are starting a cool tour bus with performances, another family art group, (parents wtih kids who put shows together), Mark from Negativland (!!!), and lots of friendly and generous strangers. I am having trouble getting pictures off my camera, but here is one that a nice couple Josh and Naina from DC sent to me.



The show tonight in Austin, TX was great. Sadly, it was Corn Mo's last night. He flies home tomorrow. The Trachtenburgs and I will continue up the west coast alone until we hit Seattle, then Baby Gramps and Ching Chong Song will join the tour and that is when I shall return home.

Back in NYC mid September. Mark your calendars! Who knows what might happen on that date what with Jessica Delfino back in town?

NOTES FROM THE ROAD (and out of Jessica Delfino's head)

I sit in a Starbucks in Baltimore (low end!) typing this on Corn Mo's laptop. The tour has been really excellent. It started in Philly with Ching Chong Song and Corn Mo. My first show was on Saturday night in Washington, DC, and it was a great show. I maimed the audience, then Corn Mo crippled the audience and Jason and the Tburgs came in to kick around the left overs, and that they did with aplomb, or perhaps many plombs, and not simply "a" plomb. Last night was equally as fun in Baltimore with Trixie Little and Evil Hate Monkey doing some very cool burlesque shit in between acts. Scott and Skizz was another opening act - they played many hits on ukelele and melodica. If you don't know what a melodica is, google that shit. It's pretty neat. It's like a mini recorder/piano blow thingy that makes noise. I think it's half toy, half instrument. But maybe the word, "toy" is a derrogatory name to an instrument or it's blower.

I am never sure if it's boring to read about what is going on during someone's tour or not, but it sure is fun to write it! And it makes me feel closer to the people in NYC who I miss and who miss me, of which I'm willing to bet there are at least a half a dozen of. You know who you are. Don't try to hide or pretend like you don't miss me. God knows. And there's no escaping that dude. He's everywhere.

In other news, I think I kind of screwed up. I had an audition the other day for an ESPN U commercial, a new channel for ESPN. I got it! The guy called and told me he'd let me know how much it paid, though I was told not to expect much money. It was a two day, 24 hour shoot, starting at 7 am Tue and Wed and going til 7 pm. I found out it paid $100 per day! That's McDonald's money! Who works for $12 per hour anymore? Even my two shitty part-time day jobs pay more than that! I make more than that collecting cans out of the garbage...what? I mean, doing what I actually do to make a living. When I found out that ESPN, a company worth many billions of bucks pays such peanuts for what is sure to be a long, exasperating two days of work, I backed out. I think that was a fair reaction. Especially since I am on tour, and my choices are: go on tour and continue to sell $100 per merchandise per show as I've been doing, plus getting paid to perform in every major city in the US to cheers and applause, or go home and shoot a two day commercial for ESPN, of which I also found out, I am only an extra in. Who auditions for extra roles? I've never had to do that before.

So, I think I made the right choice. Who's with me?

I'm actually sadder that I'm going to be missing Mo Pitkin's "Radical Vaudeville" show, featuring the O'Debras and Rosie Rebel as Mo's Ho's, the in-house sketch group. We had some really funny stuff planned. Now they will be doing the show without me, and I'm sad to miss it. So, please go and cheer them on if you ain't not doin' nothin' on Tuesday, August 29th at 10 PM.

Email me and say hi...I miss my friends. And come to see a show and see me and give me a warm hand shake or chocolate milk shake, which ever you prefer, this week if you are near any of these places on any of these dates:

Tues, 8/22 - Carrboro, NC - Cat's Cradle
Wed, 8/23 - Asheville, NC - Grey Eagle
Thurs, 8/24 - Athens, GA - 40 Watt Club
Fri, 8/25 - Atlanta, GA - The Earl
Sat, 8/26 - Little Rock, AR - Sticky Fingerz (that sounds like a comedy club!)
Mon, 8/28 - Dallas, TX - Gypsy Tea Room
Tue, 8/29 - Austin, TX - Cactus Cafe
Thurs, 9/31 - Santa Fe, NM - Brewing Company

Til the next time I'm near a Starbucks, which should be very soon...

PS - I didn't order anything! I swear! I'm just using the free wifi! I don't believe in supporting Starbucks. So take that, Mr. Bucks! Call me a hippy, or call me crazy, or call me whatever you call me. I don't like coffee anyway. It makes your breath smell like cow feet that have been dancing in cow shit. Try goji berries for energy, or try exercising, eating right and getting some sleep! Don't let the gov tell you what to drink! Coffee is everywhere, and it is free and cheap (except at Starbucks, where it's overpriced!) It's everywhere and cheap, because it boosts productivity. Don't let people trick you into working harder by giving you brown water. It's BROWN WATER! Don't be fooled!

Love and brown water,
Ms. Delfino

A THREE HOUR TOUR

I mean day. A three day tour. The Trachtenburgs are taking off on a multi-week tour and I am going them! For three days, anyway! We'll be hitting Philadelphia, Washington, DC and Baltimore, MD. So what if I'm only actually performing in Washington, DC? For all intents and purposes, I'M GOING ON TOUR!!!

If you want to see me perform LIVE and you live in the Washington, DC area, get your ass over to IOTA CAFE, 2832 Wilson Blvd., Arlington, VA. So, okay, it's not ACTUALLY Washington, DC, but it's damn close. The show starts at 9 PM, and consists of ME, CORN MO (a guy who reminds people of Meatloaf but plays the accordion and a foot cymbal and rocks the shit out of the world!) and then, of course, THE TRACHTENBURG FAMILY SLIDESHOW PLAYERS!!! (they're a real live family band featuring a dad on piano and keys, 12 year old adorable daughter Rachel on the drums, and mom on the slide projector, projecting vintage slides for all of your asses.

It is mandatory that you attend this show, and it will be the high light of your entire life. That's a promise in writing.

See you there!

COME TO THIS SHOW - or else!!



Will I be singing:

a) Joni Mitchell's "Carey"
b) Jermaine Jackson's "We Don't Have To Take Our Clothes Off (To Have A Good Time, Oh, No)"
c) Heart's "Magic Man"
d) Neil Young's "Old Man"
e) All of The Above

???

You'll just have to come and find out, but any way you dice, puree or liquefy it, it's gonna be tasty.

I'VE GOT A SHOW TONIGHT

SEXYTIME
Comedy with your hosts Brandy Crawford and Heather Fink
Friday July 28 at 11pm at
Mo Pitkin's new downstairs stage http://mopitkins.com/
34 Ave A near 3rd Street (East Village)
Free

Featuring:

Craig Baldo
http://www.craigbaldo.com/
As seen on Premium Blend, Late Night on Conan, Last Comic Standing

Seth Herzog, AKA the Zog
Host of the Lower East Side comedy staple "Sweet", Best Week Ever, The
Baxter, and most recently The Chappelle Show's lost episodes

Jessica Delfino
http://www.jessydelfino.blogspot.com/
Comedian and Dirty Folk Singer, bringin it!

and Pornstar Ben Andrews, Lucas Entertainment exclusive and biggest
cock in porn!!! He's such a sweety too ...
www.myspace.com/lebenandrews

It's f'ing Sexytime- only the most best special time that there is!!!
Featuring cute outfits n shit ... oh yeah, and we're bringin the "blue
material". Hardcore.

Gay? N'Sync? YOU DON'T SAY...

I love when gay guys come out who you so knew were gay, like, since the day they were born (Their bulging forehead veins matched the shade of their swollen belly buttons). Here's a shocker!

NEW YORK (AP) -- Lance Bass, band member of 'N Sync, says he's gay and in a "very stable" relationship with a reality show star.

Bass, who formed 'N Sync with Justin Timberlake, JC Chasez, Joey Fatone and Chris Kirkpatrick, tells People magazine that he didn't earlier disclose his sexuality because he didn't want to affect the group's popularity.

"I knew that I was in this popular band and I had four other guys' careers in my hand, and I knew that if I ever acted on it or even said (that I was gay), it would overpower everything," he tells the magazine.

'N Sync is known for a string of hits including "Bye Bye Bye" and "It's Gonna Be Me." The band went on hiatus in 2002. Bass has also found headlines for undertaking astronaut training and failing to raise money for a trip into space.

Bass says he wondered if his coming out could prompt "the end of 'N Sync." He explains, "So I had that weight on me of like, 'Wow, if I ever let anyone know, it's bad.' So I just never did."

The singer says he's in a "very stable" relationship with 32-year-old actor Reichen Lehmkuhl, winner of season four of CBS' "Amazing Race."

Bass and Fatone, 29, are developing a sitcom pilot inspired by the screwball comedy "The Odd Couple," in which his character will be gay.

"The thing is, I'm not ashamed -- that's the one thing I want to say," Bass says. "I don't think it's wrong, I'm not devastated going through this. I'm more liberated and happy than I've been my whole life. I'm just happy."



And by gay, he means happy AND also gay

I Went To Canada, & All I Got Was Everything I Wanted & More

I'd like to start off by stating the obvious: I'm apparently very easy to please, as "everything & more" mostly just means a place to sleep and some dough.

As an unconventional person, I rarely do things conventionally, nor do opportunities or experiences present themselves to me in a "normal" manner. I sent a film to the Montreal "Just For Laughs" festival a few months ago and forgot about it. A few weeks ago, JFL contacted me and told me my film had been accepted into the Comedia film portion of the festival, and I was invited to come with full accreditation, (which is the fancy way of saying "you get a badge") and even perform some live songs at the showing of the film, if I liked. A badge is important, because it's the major difference between being an invited guest of the festival (totally respectable and even admirable) and a curious comedian who's "just there to hang out out" (so not cool).


Can I see your badge?

Unlike many festival comedians, I was not being flown in on a fancy jet plane, costs covered, or being put up by the festival in the regal Hotel Delta, comedy ground zero if you will, where all industry and talent converge in a vortex of hope, desire and disappointment, laden with excessive amounts of alcohol. No, I did it Delfino-style: I took the drive up to Burlington with my friends who happened to be going there anyway, and then hitch-hiked from Burlington to Montreal.

Hitch-hiking is something I've done since I hit my adventurous/dangerous teens. In Maine, where I grew up, as well as surrounding Vermont, New Hampshire and Canada, hitch-hiking isn't such a scary activity as it is in NYC, land of the psycho killer. As a matter of fact, in these hilly states and provinces where people's typically old beater cars tend to break down a lot and jobs aren't exactly springing up like the psychadelic mushrooms do in the plentiful cow plops that surround the terrain,
hitch-hiking is quite common. So, when I go home, if I don't have a ride and only have a short distance to go, that is my preferred way to get around. It's cheap, it's fun, and there is never a lack of interesting characters behind the wheel. Normal, boring people simply don't pick up hitch-hikers.

I was picked up by an elderly fellow in Burlington who took me to a small town about 20 miles north. He worked at a solar energy plant and would have been a hippy if it were 1962, but he'd grown up and all that shit. He insisted of taking a photo of me with all my gear and my sign.


Heels are the best hitch-hiking shoes

Next, I was picked up by Bruce, a dirty but kind gentleman who drove a drafty, tiny red sedan. Upon opening the back door to put my guitar in, I noticed a twelve pack of beer that was a few short. My kind of fellow. I hopped in and ignored his lecherous leers, chatting him up in my cheeriest voice, being sure to mention I was carrying a lethal knife, which I mostly used for arts and crafts, in the most delightful cadence I could muster. After a little while, he stopped giving me the creeps and started telling me about his past DWI, his two failed marriages, his two kids, and his future plans of a career in truck driving. He offered to drive me right up to the border, though he knew his DWI would prohibit him from entering Canada. I thanked him for the ride, but mostly for not raping me, as he dropped me off at the last exit before customs. He offered me $10 for the road before I jumped out of the car. The poorest, most downtrodden folks are, in my experience, always the most generous.

The next ride took awhile to land, as I was surrounded by trees and strange birds, but not much traffic. I went right out to the highway, though it is illegal to hitch-hike on the highway. I held up my sign and hoped for a VW Bus. After about 45 minutes, I saw a VW bus. And it stopped. Inside was a terrific gentleman named Sylvester who worked for the CBC, which is Canada's PBS. He was getting ready to take a trip to Antarctica to film a documentary. He was a handsome, old school super cool ex-hippy-like man, but he was way too sophisticated to be a hippy. He spoke to me in fluent english with a sexy french accent, and though he was surely in his 50s, I would have let him be my new boyfriend.


Handsome older hottie

We hit it off immediately, and chatted light-heartedly all the way to Montreal. We stopped only once, and that was when we got searched at the Canadian border because he told the border police he'd picked me up hitch-hiking. I was surprised he told them, but he said it's better to be honest about everything so you don't get caught lying, because then they get pissed. By the time he dropped me off, we'd exchanged information and made a plan to meet again someday.


I've arrived

I arrived in Montreal on Saturday afternoon around 3 PM. The plan was, I would stay at a friend of Nick Fox-Gieg's, the guy who did the animation half of the short film I was going to represent. Her name was Freida. I took the Metro to her apartment to meet her in the "Myland" section of Montreal. She was not home when I got there, and didn't come back for two hours. I sat on the park bench across the street, and waited until it started to rain. I left a note on her door where I'd be - at an amazing divey Mexican joint that made their own tortillas - the fat yummy ones that look like pancakes. I had a huge feast of beans, rice, salsa, salad and tortillas for $7. She came in and met me with her long purple dreds and friendly face. She was an artist. I took a breath of relief, as artists are generally superb people.

She'd just moved into a cool apartment, and not much was really unpacked or set up. She cleared a space in her painting studio, and I pitched my sleeping bag on the floor. I took a nap and then took the Metro into Montreal to my first show. The Metro is not air conditioned in Canada, as A/C is reserved for the rich! While I waited for my show to begin, I walked over to Club Soda for The Nasty Show, which sounded like my cup of tea. Of course it was. My friend Jay Oakerson was performing, along with one of my favorite filthy-mouthed assholes, Patrice O'Neal. I watched the show, which was terrific, and later accidentally met up with Patrice and Jay as they ate at a nearby restaurant. I told them my story of hitch-hiking and staying on Freida's floor. We talked for awhile and then I went back to my show. A little while later, Jay came over to my show and told me he had a double room - two huge beds in his hotel room - paid for by the festival - at Hotel Delta! He invited me to go and stay with him for the week, starting that night. I went back to the art studio, but in the morning, I went to investigate. I showed up at the hotel, and it was magnificent. It was like the scene in "The Wizard Of Oz" where Judy Garland goes from black and white into color. There was a pool, free internet, JFL welcome tables set up, goodie bags for performers, transport vans to take performers where they needed to go, comedians and familiar faces walking around, rich people everywhere, radio stations broadcasting live - it was a happening environment. Transport generously drove me to Freida's to pick up all my stuff. Freida seemed bummed that I jetted out so quickly, and I felt a little bad, but the offer was too good to pass up.

Once at the hotel, life was divine. Every day was pretty much the same. I swam and went in the hot tub and sauna every day. I sucked up more A/C than 50 rich people. I hung out with comedian pals Mike Britt, Jay Oakerson, Patrice ONeil (who is such a bad ass faker - though he pretends to be a cock, he is the one who told Jay to go get me and let me stay in his room!), Reggie Watts, Steve Byrne (who hosted the show I was in), Pete Dominick, Jordan Carlos and a bunch of others over the course of the trip. I'd walk around the city, go to my shows in the evening, go to parties that the festival set up, go see great comedy shows (I saw Demitri Martin's "These Are Jokes", Ray Romano's documentary "95 Miles To Go", The Nasty Show and many others, all free with my festival pass), meet and talk with industry people, chat with natives, practice my shoddy french, and enjoy how pleasant and nice Montreal and it's people were. They were too nice to be actual human beings. I have a theory that they are aliens.


In bed with Reggie Watts (that should be the name of his TV show)

Jay left on Thursday morning, and my last 2 shows were on Thursday night. I was wondering where I'd sleep after my shows. I called concierge and they told me that Jay's hotel room was paid for through Sunday. I considered just staying there alone, but feared the festival might get really pissed if they found out I did that. So, I just gathered all my things together, performed at my last two shows on Thursday night, went back to the hotel, did an interview with XM through a new comedy pal Laura Nikiforchuk and took off for Bus Central. I hopped on an 11:45 pm bus and was in NYC just in time for a massive, apocalyptic lightning storm.



Montreal is an amazing city. It's like mini-New York but without much of the bullshit. There are only about 3 million people there, so people are nice because they aren't cramped, and have room to walk without getting elbowed or stabbed in the head by some oblivious asshole's umbrella. They are 95% bi-lingual, english and french. All the signs are in french by a law that says the french sign has to be as big or bigger than the english sign. It's easy to get around, many people ride bikes. I had some great shows. The first was small, but they just kept getting bigger and better. I sold CDs, signed autographs, met lots of other filmmakers and talented weirdos, and just had a terrific time.


Montreal is way so super dope

Here's the icing on the cake: I didn't get paid for travel or board by JFL. I found out a lot of people actually don't get paid or put up. But yesterday, they called and said that they decided to pay me after all. They ended up paying me more for performing in five shows than many people make working a 40 hour work week.

So, this has been a story all about my trip to Montreal's Just For Laughs Festival.
Thank you for reading this long-ass diatribe. Stay tuned for other lengthy stories that are probably more interesting in my brain then they are on paper.

Special thank yous are owed to Andre for his kindness and Carolyn for being one of the coolest, friendliest people I met while I was there, Jay Oakerson, Mike Britt and Patrice O'Neil for looking out for a girl, and the Hotel Delta for all the free shampoo. I'd also like to thank my peeps, Lopi, Christopher and Norbert for the ride from NYC north in the mini-van, one of my favorite vehicles in which to travel.

DELFINO TAKES MONTREAL

To your top right there is an adorable drawing of a strange little girl. That little girl is me, and it was drawn by Nick Fox-Gieg. He contacted me quite out of the blue and asked if he could animate my song, "I Wanna Be Famous." I said no. He offered to pay me $50,000. I quickly changed my mind. None of this is true. I immediately said yes, and then forgot about it. A few months later, he sent the finished product to me, which is linked above.

Wonders never cease, and this short, brilliant animation was accepted into the Montreal Comedy Festival. I'll be there all week, try the tofu. If you live in Montreal, come to one of the screenings. I'll also be performing at one or more of the screenings.

Here are the screening details:

Monument International
1182 St. Laurent Blvd

It will be shown there at the following times in the following shows:

100% Animation - Friday, July 14th @ 8 PM
Eat My Twisted Shorts - Saturday, July 15th at midnight
Eat My Twisted Shorts - Tuesday, July 18th @ 7 PM
100% Animation - Thursday, July 20th @ 7 PM
100% Animation - Thursday, July 20th @ 9:30 PM

It will be cool to see it on a big screen in front of a bunch of french people! Hope to see you there. I will be selling CDs and signing autographes, (that's the way they spell it with a french flair) along with kicking ass and taking names.

JOKES TO SPICE UP YOUR BORING DAY
by Jessica Delfino

I painted my fingernails bright fluorescent day-glo green with glitter in them...to go with my bulimia!

Yes!

So, I went to CVS and bought some stickers, and the lady asked me if I wanted a bag, so I said, "No" but quietly added via my inner dialog, "I'll just stick them in my purse, like the lipstick and vitamins and candle holders and barretts and staples and the cute picture of the puppy covering it's face with it's paws and the female moustache bleach."

OK!! Here we go!

Any math whizzes in the audience? (Dead Silence) OK, great. Maybe one of you can help me solve this math problem. An F train leaves the Delancey Street station at 11:15 am going north about 27 mph. How long does it take for the next fucking god damn F train to get to Delancey Street Station, huh? Cause I don't have all fucking day!

Ta-da!

Thank you, I'll be here all week. Try the vegetarian turkey loaf.

WHO'S GOING TO THE MONTREAL COMEDY FESTIVAL?

Even more important, who's driving to the Montreal Comedy Festival?

NEAT PERSON OF THE WEEK:
Annelies Middel, painter

Holland is known for lots of great things - wooden shoes, killer marijuana, spekjes (a crazy, squishy bacon-looking candy that tastes a lot like peeps) and now, Annelies Middel, a painter who I had the pleasure of meeting during her brief stay in NYC. Annalies put up her first gallery show in NYC today at New Century Gallery in Chelsea. I don't know the perfect fancy terminology of how to say that correctly, because I'm not a damn painter. But simply put, her paintings were hanging on walls and then people came and looked at them. And there was wine and carrots.

She has a very nice touch; she paints the faces of mysterious people (push "play" now on The Doors "People Are Strange" for backdrop atmosphere as you read remainder of this entry) on small canvases. She doesn't paint all the details, however. She leaves some misty spaces for our brains to fill in on our own. Yes, she makes us work for it! The results are intriguing, ghostly images that make me wish I had hundreds of dollars to shell out for the "snack-sized" paintings.

Her paintings will be hanging for your viewing pleasure until July 15th at New Century Artists, Inc., 530 W. 25th St., Suite 406 (btw. 10th - 11th Aves). And if you're the link following type, here's hers: www.anneliesmiddel.com The building itself is pretty keen. It's got lots of galleries all side by side in various shaped and sized rooms. It's like a grocery store where you can get all your art.

SEE THE IMAGE LINK ABOVE THIS ON THE LEFT?

It goes to Toxic Pop, which is a website where you can learn about goings on in various aspects of the arts (comedy, music, etc.) and art star communities all over NYC. There is also a new pod cast which shows some of my short videos (some that you can't see elsewhere) along with other very cool artsy videos and music clips, etc. The pod cast is hosted by Bex Schwartz from VH1, and it's pretty fun and funny.

If you like the pod cast, you can sign up for the mailing list. And if you like the mailing list AND the pod cast, be sure to check out the live screening in September at the Pioneer Theater in the East Village.


It's like some strange bird took a blue shit on my TV monitor...

Save the date: Sunday, September 10th at 7 PM

There will be a screening of "The Best of the Toxic Pop PoPcast" featuring the best segments produced throughout the summer (featuring many familiar faces) along with some stuff that's just too dirty - even for the internet. There's also a deal going right now that if you purchase your ticket through the Advance Ticketing Link, by Weds, June 29th you will get into Faceboyz Open Mic afterwards for free...that's a four dollar discount. Do you know what you can do with $4 these days? Well, you can buy a note book and write something. And you can get an ice cream cone. You can buy a good used book and read it, and gain some knowledge. Don't you want to be smarter?

If you're a student or a senior (which you're probably not) the tickets are only $8.50. For everyone else, they're $11 bucks.

Get your tickets HERE NOW

Learn more info at:

www.Toxicpop.com

www.artstars.org

VINTAGE DELFINO

I wrote this story about eight years ago for a magazine called Backwash Zine. My mom brought the story to my attention again today when I called to wish her a happy father's day. She called it one of her all time favorite stories, which I take as a very high compliment, as she adores Lewis Carroll, Dorothy Parker and other greats. It's a little long, but a fun read, even if I do say so myself. It is an investigative piece that follows the lives of two very similar women with yet another thing in common - a strange use of mayonnaise. Enjoy!

PS I have to mention I saw Nellie McKay perform tonight at Joe's Pub. She mentioned in her song "Sorry" that she was sorry for the judge and the justice system on the occasion that she saw them refuse to give Christopher water in the courtroom when he asked many times and then begged for it. To my extreme delight, she called Judge Nunez a "bitch" in front of a packed room full of people who would have eaten dog biscuits out of her hand if she'd asked them to. And I should also mention, her show was beautiful and terrific beyond words, even without the honorable mention of CXB.

Condiments in the Trailer Park
A Creative Journey

by Jessica Delfino

With the help of a tip from a reliable source, I discovered a place called "Common Law Gardens" in Dogcrap, NJ where two ingenious women have been experimenting with mayonnaise. So, I decided to go and do a little bit of investigative reporting. I figured if I was going to go butting my nose into their mayo businesses, I might as well have something to offer them in return. With a little bit of prompting, I got a few national mayo companies to supply me with a nations' supply of Miracle Drip mayonnaise and Hell-Boy's mayonnaise. Everyone loves the creamy goodness that is mayonnaise. How could Dogcrap turn me away when I came bearing gifts? With that in mind, my multi packs of mayo and I made the long trip by car to Dogcrap.
Mayonnaise is a pillar of what makes this country so great. For years, thousands of Americans have consumed billions of jars of its creamy goodness, still unsure even of how it is made, or what it is made of. All most Americans know about this 'miraculous whip' is that it is almost white and it tastes great on most anything.

On the day that I have chosen to visit Common Law Gardens, it is a sunny, temperate day. It is almost as if there are real frogs trapped inside the smiling, glass-eyed frogs that sit smooshed into the brown dirt spots scattered amongst the plush, plastic green tufts that slyly trick passers-by and neighbors into believing that they are glimpsing at what is called in some regions, the "front lawn." Crafty little wooden maidens rise up from a pole in the ground; they are bent-over in a row and convincingly appear to be digging worms to sell to the local tackle store; or, perhaps they are picking up cigarette butts that their guests have thrown all over the ground. Almost every unit proudly sports its own sign that offers up knowledge of the residential status of each trailer. "One old goat and one cute chic live here!" Indeed, they do. This is Dogcrap, NJ. Dogcrap is a small town, compiled mostly of mullets and mini trucks. Yes, a happy race of people make up the residents of this neighborhood, which seems to consist mainly of members of the same genepool. Like the mighty bumble bee, these fiery creatures only attack when provoked, unless, that is, they are drunk or high, then, like the mighty crocodile, they attack for the hell of it. But we are here today and no one seems to be attacking anything yet.

Edna's Story

My first story begins with Edna Headlong, proprietor of her own mayonnaise based business. Edna is a short little woman; frumpy but kind. Edna answered the door in her work gear; a pair of tight fitting jeans that appeared as if washed by hand in a lovely stream in Mexico that flowed over rocks and stones before someone purchased them and handed them down to her. An oversized tee shirt with a darling but all too pixelated picture of what appeared to be her own offspring on the front topped her apple-shaped body. We could see through the fabric in her, let's just call them, 'stone-washed' jeans that her camel lips were flared; a sign of welcome in Dogcrap, so I knew that I was wanted here. I let her know that I wasn't there to take away her children, as she wrongfully assumed, but to share with her the magical, mystical, miraculous workings of mayonnaise. When I explained that I was there to write a report on her invention, she was both surprised and delighted. She asked if she could go 'make a doody' before we got started, and I allowed her to perform that duty. When she came out, without further ado, we got to work.
I offered her some free samples which she gladly accepted, and I showed her that I knew a thing or two about how to use mayonnaise as well. I showed her how one could mix mayonnaise and ketchup together to create a tangy salad dressing; how one could place mayonnaise on 'bread' under choice slices of deli cuts or how it could be mixed with chopped eggs, the delicious orb that comes out of a chicken's butt. She acknowledged that she was well aware of these modern mayonnaisical advances and commenced to show me a wonderful use of the product that has never ever been seen before. Her kids call it 'the fun dough' but she markets it as 'playonnaise.' It is a colorful dough-like substance that was created one afternoon when her kids came home from school with a recipe for dough that their teacher had given them as homework. Edna realized she was not in possession of well, ANY of the ingredients required to make the dough, and decided it was up to her to use her own ingenuity to create a like-substance. So successful was the experiment, it caught on. Soon, mothers all over Common Law Gardens were offering to trade her raggedy high tops and Pepsi bottles brimming with coffee brandy for samples of the colored goo. "It was as if I'd been given a pile of the most wonderful garbage that only I got to dig through," Edna commented on the experience. Edna realized that she was onto something and began packaging the substance in old vegetable cans which she sealed with a sandwich baggy and trash ties. Due to the lack of funding to cover the packaging design costs, she thought it would be clever to leave the actual vegetable label on the can, color the playonnaise in the can the same color as the vegetable that had once lived there, and call it after it's vegetable name. I liked "pea" the best. Clever, indeed. But this is the best part. When the kids were finished sculpting lovely action figures and their favorite vehicles from playonnaise, they could eat them, wet or dry. Kids have always fought with parents about eating their vegetables, but no more. Playonnaise makes consuming veggies both fun and delicious. Edna showed me some special little figurines made by her children that she held dear to her heart. Among them were the Incredible Hulk in "pea" who her oldest son wanted to someday become, and she herself had sculpted the life-sized head of Jerry Springer in "corn" and created his facial features in a rainbow of "beet" and "carrot". Might I add, the figure held a startling resemblance to the real Jerry. In Dogcrap, in the Common Law Gardens, and anywhere, recipes are treasured and cherished, and pirating recipes is an offense not to be taken lightly. I stumbled upon trouble in mayonnaise paradise, just two trailers down from Edna. She informed me of a neighborly bitch who had stolen the mayonnaise theme right out from under her nose and created her own foul-smelling concoction. She referred to the bitch as Judy. I decided to pay her a visit, much to the dismay of Edna Headlong. "That bitch ruins everything of mine!" were her parting words as I took my complimentary cans of "corn" and "pea" playonnaise and went on down the road.

Judy's Story

I found Judy passed out behind the steering wheel of a rusty pinto parked in her driveway, stinking of gin and tobasco sauce. It appeared that she had slept there the previous night, and was not shocked when I woke her by pressing on the horn, as I was instructed to do by a strange, fuzzy little creature who called himself Son. I assumed he was her son, because he had called Judy his mom. Son excused himself because he had been involved in a bout of backyard wrestling with some local hoodlums, when the four or five barking dogs alerted him of my presence. Though it might seem strange to the layman, I learned that the 'drunken' state is actually the preferred state among the people of Common Law Gardens and all of Dogcrap. Once I told her that I had come to write a report on her mayonnaise magic, she rose to make my acquaintance. She picked a mostly smoked cigarette butt out of the vehicle's ashtray and toked on the filter while we spoke. She told me of a day when her family was very poor. She said her dad would make her and her sisters and brothers and cousins and nephews and nieces and friends and strangers that came over to hang out with her brothers and sisters and cousins and nephews and nieces toys, since he could not afford to purchase toys. He would whittle pipes and ice picks out of wood for the boys in the family, and he would make crayons out of whiskey and candle wax for the girls. Judy recalled her father's recipe and decided to put a new, modern spin on it by making edible crayons out of mayonnaise for her own children and calling them crayonnaise. This would be considered a crafty idea by anyone's standards, except her father's. There was a family dispute about altering the natural ingredients of his down-home crayons, and they haven't spoken since. Her recipe involved mixing wax, mayonnaise and miscellaneous leftovers and spices to give the crayons texture. The crayons were then used in a very creative manner. The kids could actually draw on their dinner plates, and then lick the plates clean, accomplishing three tasks; entertaining the children, feeding the children, and washing the dishes. "That Edna is a larr," she explained to me. She told me a deeper, darker story than the one Edna had delivered to my ears just moments earlier. "She's jist mad cuz her husbin spant the nott here erry nott last month. Ah came up with the ah-dear of usin' mayonnaise in the craown re-si-whatever you called it, to make usage of the leftover egg salad I made. And it made the craowns so smooth and creamy, I decided the mayonnaise was the thing that did that to 'em so I decided to do it again and then the thing went off, and we did nothin', I swear, officer."

Again, I offered up some tidbits of my own mayo-wisdom by showing Judy how it is perfectly acceptable to mix mayonnaise into a hollandaise sauce or use it in dips. Judy showed me her crayonnaise workshop which consisted of a dirty counter top and a bucket that had encrusted wax stuck to the bottom. She also showed me other ways she makes use of mayonnaise. "If you rub some in yer eyes after you smoke a crack or two, it takes the red right out. If you eat three or four tablespoons while givin' birth, it makes you feel so sick you don't even notice the pain. And when you rub it in yer hair and dip yer haid in a bucket a'water and shake it all around in the water, it makes yer hair as soft as a plate fulla cat hair and cigarette ashes." It couldn't have been put better in english. And what a tasty dish that must be. But that recipe was for another time and another occasion. She went on to explain that she feeds her son, Son, mayonnaise sandwiches for lunch just about every day. I can't even begin to elaborate on the nutritional content in a mayonnaise sandwich, which consists mostly of bread, mayonnaise and air, but I didn't really have time to anyway, because at that moment, her common law husband came home and he had a shot gun in one hand and a few of his own teeth in the other. That was my cue to run, er, leave.

So that was my mayonnaise adventure. I learned a lot on this journey. I learned about a little hole of a place called Common Law Gardens. I learned two fun, new ways to use mayonnaise. I learned that a town exists that is called Dogcrap. As you may or may not know, mayonnaise may not be great for your arteries, but no one can say it doesn't taste great. And that's what counts. Now, you and your cool suburban buddies may call me a 'mayonerd' but the fact is, I have always had a good old time sharing and learning all types of recipes with all types of people. Maybe next time, it'll be you. Until then, bon appetit!

BIG DAY FOR DELFINO

Yesterday was my special day, the day I left my childhood behind and became a woman. I woke early in the morning to a door bell sound which was actually more of an irate buzzing that most New Yorkers know as a household noise. The man on the other end of that buzz delivered a package to me containing a birthday card and earrings from my sister, plus a card with $20. What are they, rich?

Thankfully the day started out nice, because I spent most of my special day sitting around in court. My boyfriend and good friend Christopher X. Brodeur got sentenced to serve 6 months in jail for his reportedly harrassing form of activism, which entailed calling City Hall enough times to possibly make a world record, and now will be "vacationing" as he put it, at Riker's Island until perhaps next year.

Luckily for me, I was in great company. Friends the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players, musical genius Nellie McKay, comedic pedal wizard Reggie Watts, Bilge Byron of Haunted Pussy (or Mikey McHugh), Mormon Delicious aka Mike Amato, DEVA's synth player Rob Bose, Sidewalk Anti-Folk scene photojournalist Lippe and others were in attendance. Together, we made a fun day of it, joking around, eating yummy Thai food for lunch and giving eachother faces full of shocked expression with each assinine sentence to spill from DA Duncan Levin's overpaid, lying lips. It was also quite surprising to hear the judge's distraght tone upon hearing that Christopher had called her "Bloomberg's #1 puppet at the bench." Perhaps she felt ashamed. Regardless, I'm sure it didn't help lighten his sentence any.

After the courthouse experience, I was then treated to a tasty dinner by Rachel and Tina Trachtenburg and then we went to see "An Inconvenient Truth" at the Landmark Sunshine. It was a pretty convenient theater, very close to my apartment. And equally as convenient or perhaps even more so, Jason Trachtenburg paid for my "birthday" ticket. Hell of a guy, that Jason.

I stumbled into my home, exhausted, around midnight.

It was certainly the strangest and most interesting way I've spent my birthday yet.

I can't wait to to see what next year brings.

JESSICA DELFINO'S THIRD ANNUAL BAD BIRTHDAY POETRY PARTY is nigh!

Maybe you were there last year, maybe you weren't. Hope you can make it this time. It's this coming Sunday...

This is how it works:

Everyone in the world is invited to write me a bad poem on the theme, "Are you glad I was born?" (Answers of "No" are accepted and even encouraged. Indifference and ambivalence are both fine, also.) Everyone is then invited to read the poems aloud on stage. I will give out crappy gift bags as well as bad awards for worst poem, lousiest poem, etc. Readers will also get booklets of last year's bad poems written by the poets of 2005. Hilarity will ensue.

There will be birthday goodies, featured guest readers of musical, literate and comedic backgrounds, Dr. Steam Whipple of The Pizzas will provide a subtle and strange musical backdrop in place of the usual imprisoned musical genius, Touching You; and Fisher Spooner's Vanessa and her dancey friends will do interpretive dance to the bad poems.

Admission is free. Please wear your nerdiest dark rimmed glasses, your best (or worst) poetry outfits and don't forget your beret or sophisticated scarf.

Hints: The born and porn rhyme has already been used to death, and there is nothing good that rhymes with Delfino.

Extra credit goes to any and all extra efforts deployed.

Come one, come all!

RSVP for a poem reading spot at jessdelfino@yahoo.com, or just show up and try to slip in somewhere.

Jessica Delfino's (3rd Annual) Bad Birthday Poetry Party
SUNDAY, JUNE 4th, 2006
BOWERY POETRY CLUB
308 Bowery Poetry Club at 1st St.
7 pm SHARP to 9 pm

Let the rhymey times roll!

Huge Dump Taken At New Sushi Restaurant
by Jessica Delfino

I don't remember what time it was when I realized I had to go #2. But I had to go, and there wasn't a brick wall or a pair of handcuffs anywhere that would keep me from doing what I "needed to do." My friend invited me out to lunch not knowing what evils hid deep inside of my soul and my entrails. I went into the fancy bathroom, a small room much too good for doing what I was about to do in it, and a pang of guilt overtook me - what had these nice people ever done to me? Surely nothing to deserve the horrid attack I was about to deliver. I am no terrorist, but my butt can be terroristic at times.

I made sure the door was locked. I was not about to have some poor tourist from Boise trapse in, catching my eyes for that one moment that would leave them in shock and fear; the moment that overtakes a person as they catch you in mid-plop. It is a similar feeling to catching someone you love with their man meat in their mitt; a look of desparate self-loathing-love on their ecstatic faces. Among the evil that lies in man lest we forget that man is also a sad being; a lonely being that makes gross liquids.

I kissed the seat with my soft buttocks. Oh, the joy of the men whose fingers have graced the flaxen flesh of my downy bottom - wouldn't they be shamed now to imagine their palms in place as my mudflaps flapped the mud away?

As every person fears when defecating in a public place, especially one of value, I hoped the toilet would flush, carrying my brown sins to hell, where they belonged.

I pushed, and it pulled, and I thanked god, once again.

I washed my hands furiously, as if to scrub away the metaphor of filth that surely coated them, and went out to eat some yummy food, and go make more dark wrongs.

I'd nearly forgotten about my private donation, when a child; a lovely-faced child entered the restaurant, joyfully exclaiming to the kindly japanaman in high-pitched innocense if she could please use the bathroom!? Of course, he said yes.

It took all I had not to leap from my seat, fly through the air in a japaname' stream, and knock her to the ground, saving her from the aftermath of my leavings.
But I let her go.

She would be a woman, soon.

As I ate the last bite of my delicious meal, I thought of the last remarkable line of the poem by Alexander Pope: "Oh, Celia! Celia! Celia shits!"

Oh, she shat alright. And don't they all, Alexander? Don't we all?

EUREKA!!! It's a new post!

Holy vagina!

Wow!

I've been waiting for a long time to update my blog, but now, thanks to my friend David, there's a link to my video placed in the upper right hand corner (look up...see???) and I can go on with my blog life.

Where to begin? OK!

I'll tell you this. I'm performing a lot this week. See my schedule for specific details, but I will say this - tomorrow, Tuesday at 8 PM, I'm playing at Freddy's Back Room (485 Dean St., Park Slope, Brooklyn) with Tickle Dracula and Bitter Poet. Hurrah! Tickle Dracula tells jokes over surf-y rock (they are terrific) and Bitter Poet sings songs of his bitter poetry guised in red and black, the colors of bitterness.

Next, this Friday, I'm opening for Otto and George, ventriloquist comedy legend! And I'll go one more with a huzzah! It's in Yonkers...if you live in Yonkers and you want more information, just send me an eletronic note and I'll send you details.

Sunday, May 21st from 6-8 PM ($5) is the monthly "Night of A Shitload of Stars" or NO ASS for short. This is a terrific, fast-paced variety show of epic proportions, originated and partially booked by CXB and carried on by me in his jailed stead. This month, we've got a fabulous line-up so good, your teeth could fall out. (Not guaranteed.) Hosted by Reverend Jen and featuring Kristen Schall, Elephant Larry, Mike Amato, The Black & The Jew, Adira Amram, The Dustbunnies, The Trachtneburg Family Slideshow Players, short films and virtually a shitload more stars.

And speaking of CXB, this is very important. I hereby implore each and every reader whose eyes lie upon this line to come and stand witness next Monday, seven days from now (technically six since it's now 2 am on Tuesday) MAY 22nd at 10 AM, for the sentencing of my beloved and imprisoned fiance, Mr. Christopher X. Brodeur. (The X is real - it stands for Xavier.) By now, most of you know that Christopher is a political prisoner who is serving the maliciously vulgar amount of time of 6 months at Riker's Island for a speech related misdemeanor. He will be sentenced on this date and is looking at up to 9 additional months in jail at Riker's.

Please come to show that you believe in free speech, even if it isn't nice speech.

The sentencing will be held at 100 Center St. (downtown), Rm. 450. Go left in the hallway (out of the elevators) and through the door at the end of the hallway. See room 450 straight ahead. Please arrive around 10 am. You will go through metal detectors, so leave your knives and illegal drugs at home.

"All that is required for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing" - Edmund Burke

So, come out to Center St. on Monday, May 22nd and show your support.

At the last sentencing, about 50 people showed up and we had an impromptu, vivacious party in the courtroom, featuring many spirited and beloved artists, activists and people about town. Everyone's going. Bring your dancing shoes and get ready to do a jig for justice.

On a very serious note, Christopher is looking at a lot more time, and we could use any and all support. I've been struggling to pay an exorbitant amount of rent alone and I fear what the future holds for us. We're supposed to be getting married on Dec. 25, 2006, and he is missing my special bad birthday poetry party on June 4th and my third tenth birthday on June 8th. So, to say I'm a little bummed about this is a gross, disgusting understatement. I'm literally crushed by all of this, and would relish any bit of support any of you could muster.

So, please don't hold the muster or the relish. Just show up.

So Many Talented People....

...so many mansions for important corporation bosses to buy in stead of paying these talented people to make great art.

So, a few months ago, a "stranger" contacted me saying he'd like to animate a song of mine. I said, "Sure, sounds great!" and sent him a CD, all but completely forgetting about it a few days later. Today, I got an email from him saying, OK, go check it out!

So, do that...go check out this beautiful, funny little animation that stranger Mr. Nick Fox-Gieg did for my song, "I Wanna Be Famous." (On his website, click on the green animation still image that looks like the one above to launch it...)

It's TERRIFIC, if I do say so myself.

Nice work, stranger Nick. And by nice work, I mean, A + +.

If you have some money, hire this guy to do stuff.

INDIANAPOLIS

On March Two Two, I'll sing for you
the residents of Indiana
I'll sing songs of my vagina
in a way no one else canna

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 22nd
BIRDY'S
2131 E. 71st St.
Doors @ 7:30
8:30 - The Born Again Floozies (Tuba, Tap and Funny)
9:15 - TBA
10:00 PM - Jessica Delfino & Dirty Folk Rock
$5!


PHOTO by GRAHAM MORRISON

CHICAGO

I'm goin' to Chicago, on Tuesday March Two Three
I'll sing songs on the radio but not on the TV

Someday the FCC will chill
and that will be a super thrill

I'll be surprised if my songs play
on FM while I'm still alive

Til' then, it's on-line radio,
where all bad words can truly thrive...


From the Mac & Slater Show, Chicago, IL:

Just a note to let you know your music will be featured this week on
Fearless Radio's Mac & Slater Show. You and Jessica Delfino fans
can tune in between 2:00 and 3:00 p.m. CST, Tuesday, March 21st,
through Friday, March 24th, only at www.fearlessradio.com.

Please add our link, www.fearlessradio.com, to your website and thank
you for continuing to support independent radio!

You heard 'em, friends - support independent radio, exclamation point.

THURSDAY, MARCH 23
The HIDEOUT
1354 W. Wabasia
773-227-4433
6:30 - 7:30 PM SHARP
$5 suggested donation - Nice!

See you in the windy city and beyond.

FREE MONEY!!!
by Jessica Delfino

As I've mentioned before on this blog and elsewhere, I have an amazing, I'd even dare say "spiritual" knack of finding money on the ground. Sometimes in the dark.

Again today, the free money gods blessed me. But this is quite magical - they didn't just bless me once. They blessed me TWICE in the SAME BIKE RIDE!!!

So, I'm cruising down the street on my Schwinn K-Mart special which has fallen apart so badly with such frequency, I was actually pedaling down the street in midtown once when the ROUND METAL GEAR SHIFTER/CHANGER THINGY FLEW OFF and started ROLLING DOWN THE ROAD. I had just dropped off an ass load of heavy transcripts to my convict boyfriend's lawyer. I took the long scenic way home, as it was such a beautiful day, and accidentally wound up right over yonder near the Tombs, where he is being held. I looked over in angst at the pinkish-grey building and exhaled sadly.

Silver lining, I thought. I noticed I was right near Division Street, so I took it. Riding along the fish-gut odor infested pavement, I saw that old familiar crinkled up trash-resembling wad and damn if I didn't nearly run it over before I leaned over and picked up a TEN DOLLAR BILL! That is quite unusual. Generally, it is ones or fives. Not very often do I find a ten or twenty. That might have even been my first ten, though I have found twenties before.

Eureka! I screamed in my head. I tucked the bill into my pocket and continued on, thanking fate for sending me on the path I happened to take. It was good timing, because I am literally down to zero dollars. I have money in the bank, but not much.

I sometimes wonder why I even bother to have a bank account at all.

Besides, who has the time to go to the bank?

I turned left and started up Allen, thinking, GOD DAMN I am lucky when it comes to finding money on the street. I have always been very lucky with finding money. I find money on the street ALL THE TIME. Not daily, not even weekly. But maybe five or six times a year, and when you are as poor as I am, that is all the time.

There's some kind of trashy little shit hole on Allen where dregs always seem to be hanging around. They sit on the ground, staring into tvs that aren't plugged in, dressed in clothes which have been rolled into mud and perhaps feces. I often wonder what the place is and feel sympathy for the sad looking people I see lingering around the joint. Is it an off track betting place? Is it a food stamp office? I can't tell. But as I rolled by, I thought, "Those poor people. They should try looking for money on the ground." As I finished thinking that thought, I saw that old familiar crumpled wad AGAIN and had what was practically a knot of disbelief in my stomach. I thought, "I can't even believe it - more free money?" I bent over and picked up a $5 bill that, to the untrained eye, looked exactly like a piece of garbage.

"Holy shit", I actually said aloud this time.

I rode my bike home very carefully, because I had had too much good luck for one day and expected to meet with a terrible accident as mother nature's way to restore the balance of what has to happen in order for NYC to be NYC.

I later spoke to a friend who rattled off about seven instances in a matter of seconds of times he'd found bloated balls of $20s lumped together, wallets full of hundreds and briefcases loaded of unmarked yen. I felt like a huge money finding amateur / jackass for having found my measly $15. It was as if I'd had a cruel trick played on me. "Here ya go!" said yahweh, or whoever'd put that money there. "Take a fiver for your trouble. Now, go buy yerself something nice!" It was like I'd been tipped a penny by a rich dude on a $300,000 pizza. But I was still pretty glad to have it. Fifteen dollars might as well be a million, if you need money. Unless you get to choose. Then, I guess I'd pick a million.