Boom chica boom chica boom boom boom.

It has been quite a week. A WEEK????!! It feels like months. I arrived last Friday to a rousing chorus of the Hockey Night in Canada theme song....it's good to be where people know you so well. Started work on Saturday, prepping for the onslaught of public. Cleaning cleaning cleaning. Decorating everything with cedar boughs and twinkie lights....this place dresses up nice. It was strange to land in the middle of production, instead of being here as everyone else arrives, but so sweet to land in my Cabana....my teensy cabin in the woods, that has electricity(!!) so I don't have to stoke a fire and my home is always toasty. I have wine and cribbage and a stereo there, as well....

The show, "A Night in the Woods", is just wonderful. Funny, funny. It's a joy to be able to say so, as I'm always on the front lines with the public and they've been a bit complainy the last couple of years. They are absolutely thrilled to bits this year, and leaving so happy. Ahhhh....the laughter of children...and drunk adults. We've managed to stay on sleighs thus far, though it's very warm and we are nearly out of snow now. Seems unless there is a surprise snow storm, (unlikely, as the sun is glorifying us today), we will be on wagons tomorrow. Too bad, as it is significantly less magical on wagons, very bumpy.

We had a few preview shows, then the official opening Thursday night. We do three shows a day, 4, 6 and 8pm, with soup at 5 and dinner at 7. It's a hectic schedule, to be sure, but there is a rhythm we fall into that is pleasurable. Absolutely aces crew this year, it's a little smaller than usual, and all people who really know it here, so no one needs to be coddled, we all just go about our business and our pleasure feeling grateful to be here.

Our opening night party was sweet as pie, complete with drinking and eating and so much visiting and even a little breakdancing to top off the night. There is this really neat guy here, recently married to one of our box office divas, who is Tibetan. She met him while living in India for a year, working with Tibetan monks in exile. He is always smiling, and working so hard, and regaling us with tales of escaping terrible oppression. He has some grim stories, but they are fascinating. There is a particularly grim one to do with a can of Coca Cola and the immediate self expulsion of two tapeworms out his mouth.....you can imagine how gross it is to hear the whole thing. Gives me shivers. Anyway, he busted out with the breakdancing on opening...the guy is full of surprises. Topped off the drunken revelry with a good heat up in our cedar sauna, not for the feint of heart, and certainly not to be undertaken alone when full of boozy treats, for fear of passing out. But naked and happy and HOT. Sometimes, it's just what you need to get so hot here that it's nothing to wander around in the snow with nothing but your boots and a towel.

It's so strange that it looks like April here right now....mostly muddy with remnants of snow, but word on the street is VERY cold by Thursday. -15 celcius. Yikes. Now I'm feeling reassured about having packed so many warm things.

Had a good night out at the local Armstrong watering hole. Rosie's. We love a Rosie's night. Play the juke box, some pool, drink with townies. Some of whom I know, some of whom I give a wide berth. We have a day off today, so some of us, (not me, oddly), went for broke. So, at 3am I was woken from my perfect sleep by five of my colleagues, playing the harmonium and wearing Mexican wrestling masks and holding candles, scraping at my door. Let me say this. It was truly a creepy sight to wake up looking at. Especially in the woods. Especially at 3am. Especially without my glasses on. But great, too, you know, because how often does that happen? I was naked, so I stayed in bed, waiting to see if they would come in, but when they decided I wasn't playing, they left, moved on to someone else's cabin. So I waited patiently, 'til I heard the crunching of their feet in the snow returning, and quietly crouched in the dark until they were very close, when I yelled BOOOOOO! as loud as I could and scared the bejeezus out of them. Very satisfying and we laughed and laughed.

So today I am drinking tea and doing the Globe and Mail Saturday crossword, and will venture out in a bit to see Lemony Snicket in Vernon, then have dinner at my mummy's house.

Show-ER! Show-ER! That's my next big exciting move today.

What else.....oh, some other thoughts and feelings, but you know what? I'm just going to leave those for a bit.

Best of the season to ya'll....it's my birthday Tuesday. YAY!! More party!!




a room of my own

Oh, oh, oh. Wherever have I been. I do find time to be slipping by, eluding me. Life is full and rich, to quote my friend David Petersen. Every little droplet of this life.

I'm procrastinating from packing. I was perfectly on schedule all day, though running low on fuel as stayed up almost all night smooching. Heh heh. It's been a bit of a glowy few days in that department. I have no expectations, but I do have little fantasies. It's very new, and now we are both leaving for a little while, so that's good. I'd like time to just enjoy the idea before any reality sets in. The idea is so sweet. I can tell you this, it's been a long time since someone was so tender with me, so willing to express his delight in being with me. That's kind of awesome, no?

Oh, love. So wonderous, so fleeting.

I am off tomorrow morning to winter at the Caravan Farm Theatre. www.caravanfarmtheatre.com (Still haven't figured out how to make these links live, so cut n' paste, y'all). Ah, a cabin in the snowy woods. Yes, yes. These are good days.

I want to say this about the aforementioned boy....here's how he made me feel - like his hands were covered in beauty and as he touched a part of me he would leave some behind there, until I was all over beautiful.

I shan't gush any longer...but it'll be nice to think about on the long drive up to the country tomorrow.

Kindness, Love,




So my dad's memorial was on Saturday....

Hm. You'll have to wait for details.

Oh. I apparently don't have a blog entry in me like I thought I did. Maybe I'm distracted by the SNOW outside...SNOW? For cryin' out loud. Snow. I'll say it again....forget it. You get the point. It's 2 degrees celcius out there right now. Bodes well for the future of the snowboarding season, not to mention the sleighriding season, but not so well for the rest of my evening vis a vis driving all over hell's half acre.

Plus, my brother and roommate are playing Grand Theft Auto San Andreas in the other room, and yummy smells are coming from the kitchen, and I have half a beer in front of me in a nice little glass...

Anyway, just wanted you all to know I am still here, and will be back, regaling you with tales of my winter in winterland. www.caravanfarmtheatre.com for more details.

Snow. Seriously. Come on.



Blame it on the barometric pressure. I do.

I realized last night why I like photographs of myself better than looking in the mirror. The mirror lies! I'm backwards! It's not the same as how people see me! Argh!

I am a dumbass today. I shopped all day yesterday trying to find something to wear to my dad's memorial. By the time I got home I had worked myself into a big ol' swivet worrying about what would be the right thing to wear, worrying that the flowers I'm arranging would be wrong, worrying, worrying, worrying. My head almost blew up. Thankfully I practiced trepanning and....no, I didn't. I did not drill a hole in my own head. Plus every time I spoke to my brother we argued. We are very jumpy, us two. Thank goodness our mother flies in tonight, maybe she can calm us down a bit. Or she'll get us really wound up. One or the other. But you gotta take the chance, because there's this kind of calming effect she has when she wants to that's only for us and only works on us. Motherly magic. Mummy. I love my mummy.

Gotta go. Tea's getting cold.



Peaches and edible oil products.

You know what I learned this week? Canned peaches and cool whip makes me feel better. Not, like, healthy better, but emotionally better. Yum. And yuck. All at the same time. But mostly yum.

Shoulder pain less but still pervasive. I'm sure this weather isn't helpful. I feel like a great, grey thumb is pinning me down. And divine spittle is hitting me in the face. And even though I was up first thing this morning and out all day working, I still don't feel like I saw daylight. So in rebellion I'm getting under the duvet and putting in a movie. And it's only 3:20 in the afternoon! HA!

I seem to be in slightly better spirits today. I think being back at work and planning for the next couple of months is good for me. Plus, a lot of alone time this weekend was very, very good. The promise of fresh hair, (a little hairticulture, Warren says), and possibly a new frock doesn't make me sad, either.

Each day my sadness spreads out, like viscous liquid, slowly escaping from a vessel and becoming an ever widening puddle. Thick and quiet, taking up more and more space, but thinning, too. So that it is present always, but the veil is fine, like silk, allowing glimpses of shadows and figures on the other side. I'm sure, and I'm told, that this mourning will take many forms, over a long time, and I'm sure, and I'm told, that the tears will come forcefully and randomly. But right now, this moment, I just feel wrapped in the warmth of having known my dad, and feel not bereft, but grateful, and full.

Love is remarkable.



Lazy Entry.

Here is the link for, and the text of, a review of our Theatre Under the Gun show. I'm kind of excited that if you Google my theatre group you get results!!

You'll have to cut and paste the link because I STILL can't seem to make links live on this thing. Oh, well.


The Stretch Mouth'd Rascals: “This company, formed by Mr. Jeff Gladstone [who was out of town], presents Mr. Thomas Jones with Miss Tallulah Winkleman and Miss. Riel Hahn.” ~ "The Lighthouse"; text: "Do you think this makes me look too tall?"; prop: a bright-red, clearly labelled, gas canteen of ancient vintage; sound: two pot lids, labelled 'bang these together'; an image of thirteen Eastern European children standing in the middle of a field in various odd poses.

There wasn't a single spoken line, save the radio programme which includes the line required (which is, in turn, repeated by one of the characters), and the entire story and characters' interrelationships were quite clear. If you have a small amount of time to tell a story, the best thing is always to make things as simple as possible.

After rushing in bearing buckets of dry ice immersed in water, someone hoisted a floor-mount fresnel over their head and slowly turned around and around whilst the other two made occasional fog-horn noises. As the title suggests, the action took place in and around a lighthouse, with each individual taking one rotation of an 8-hour shift (or 'cycle of bells' as is indicated by a ship's clock). Each signed in or signed out, worked at odd tasks, and slept. Those that were 'off duty' made noises of crashing waves or wind either into as mug, or simply when looking away from the audience.

The gas can took on a fetish-like quality for the two women, as a simple sniff of the contents transported them to a far-away 'Wonderland' where they suddenly convulsed in a variety of odd positions and then collapsed onto the floor of reality. Miss. Winkleman was the most adept at the precision of this sequence, her character also becoming so immersed in the experience that she mysteriously drifted into the audience, and a radio report of an unidentified female drowning victim explained the result.

An intelligent use of minimalism, coupled with clown and absurdist story-techniques

Cool, eh? Stay tuned for more Stretch Mouth'd news. We're ramping up for a very exciting 2005. We're getting a logo and everything!

I saw the chiropractor today and my massage therapist yesterday, and I think I'm recovering. Though the chiro said it'll be a couple of weeks until the pain is gone entirely. Boooo! Dumb stress. His advice was to free my life entirely of stress and difficulty. Cheeky bum! Oh, how we laughed.

I rented 7 movies today. It's 6pm now and I'm going to start. 5 I've not seen before and two for comfort. You know those movies? The ones you could watch hundreds of times and they always satisfy? Room With A View and Grosse Pointe Blank. The 5 unseen are: Winged Migration, Human Traffic, an Ellen Degeneres standup show, the original Alfie, and Matchstick Men. I'm excited. No roommates, just me and the cat. My brother might stop by, as might Siobhan and/or Jonah, so I'll get some hugs and stuff. I feel my shoulders relaxing. It's good. Time alone is good good good.


Sorry for me, by Me.

I cried today. Like, a for real cry. I could have cried and cried, but I was trying to let my massage therapist do some work on my apparently causeless injury. I am in heavy duty pain due to some kind of shoulder/neck/rib situation. Whatever it is, it hurts like a mofo, hard to sleep. Really want to go out tonight, but am trying to get better and stuff. Poop. My friend is in town from LA and everything. Sad me. Sad me all the time, anyway. PMS not helping matter. Ok. hurts to type for too long. STUPID! I am feeling petulant and grumpy. My shoulder is achey and there is no one here to rub my feet. Grrr.

I went back to work this week. It was joyless, but fine. I don't know what's going to take me out of the mire and get me booty shaking again. Not getting headaches would be a start.

I am obviously feeling very complainy. I shall stop torturing you with it now. I am so fucking sad. I miss Phil. I really, really miss him. It's becoming visceral. I'm nauseous and sore. I feel like wearing a t-shirt that says "my dad just died" so people will know why I'm so weird. Like on the street and stuff. In stores. Everywhere. I get the old tradition of wearing a veil when you're in mourning. That would be comforting. Maybe I'll just get terribly eccentric for a while. Heh. That cheers me up a bit, wearing giant hats with feathers and veils and shoes and skirts that flatter my long legs.

Ok. I feel a little better. Except for the pain. ARGH! I'm going for a walk.



Fog. Funk. Etc.

Two blog entries ago I used the phrase "fog of underachievement", though did not properly credit the author. I have been notified by said author that the phrase was, in fact, "funk of non-achievement". Andy Graffiti, thank you. Although, on re-reading and comparing, I rather like both. I think I'll keep "fog of underachievement", it kind of suits me.

I'm going to work tomorrow. I'm sure it will be fine, but I have such a headache, and I'm worried that all that driving will render me dumb and possibly unsafe. I'll just keep tabs on myself. It will certainly feel good to put a bit of cash in my pocket...yep, that'll be swell.

After work the Stretch'd Mouth Rascals are getting together for a meeting/workout and we will all be in attendance for the first time in weeks. It will be very good to have Jeff back in our ranks and to do a bit of strategizing about the future of the group. We will also discuss and post our Theatre Under the Gun show, which we really haven't examined together since we performed it. It will be the first chance for Jeff to hear about our piece, as well, so that will be exciting. Yay, SMRs!!

What else. People I haven't seen or heard from in years are coming out of the woodwork since Phil died. It's been amazing to reconnect and feel such support. My friend Briana, who I adore but have not spoken with for years, is coming out from NYC to be there for the memorial. This is a woman I have such history with, whose family's is inextricable from mine...it is so emotional knowing she and her parents will be there. I am overjoyed to hear her voice again, it makes me feel safe and loved. I don't think she knows how much I have missed her, but I have already imagined a hundred times the moment when I lay eyes on her again and get to throw my arms around her. I will cry. I know I will cry. I'm so tired of not crying.

I went to see Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason today, (largely boring and choppy), and nearly had a good cry at the end. Maybe I was bored to tears, ha ha.

I need a haircut and a tall pair of sexy black boots. These are the things that would make the winter bearable. That and a really hot love affair. I have two new crushes. Tart!!

Sigh. Fog of underachievement. Funk of non-achievement. Depression due to loss of loved one. Whatever. Bed rules. And the Office. And Arrested Development. The very best television show ever ever made.

Gotta go, Tsarina needs the computer.



Wokka wokka

I feel like complete crap. There's just no getting around it. I'm trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy in my daily dealings, but it's getting kind of tough. For a while I was able to be very jokey with everyone, and now I find that this fatigue has set in in earnest. Just so very tired all the time, and the effort to be silly or cheerful or anything is huge.

Of course, a thick depression can't keep a girl like me down. I'm off to celebrate birthdays of friends tonight....some high heels, some flowers in my hair, a little lip gloss, it's on, baby. Drown my sorrows in drink and flirtation. That's the ticket.

I'm determined to start working again this week. Money is definitely a motivating factor, but so is structure. I need to be in the swing again, doing things outside the sphere of sadness. I'm sure I'll have all kinds of time to ponder while driving all around, but at least the smell of flowers and all the colour will cheer me up. Or on, if I'm listening very closely.

Diana Frances is doing a ten minute piece for Definitely Not The Opera, heard Saturdays on CBC radio. Her piece is about women in comedy, specifically trying to figure out why there seem to be fewer ladies in the standup biz. We had french toast and chicken bacon, (who knew?), and she interviewed myself and Ian Boothby and Pia Guerra, and will go on to interview others. It was a very interesting discussion and raised a lot of questions about women and ambition and success.

I need some dinner. STAT.



Little bit 'o this, little bit 'o that.

All this wandering around in circles...that's kind of what it feels like I'm doing right now. I want to go back to work, but I'm pretty sure it's not a good idea just yet. Next week, I think. I've noticed that just going a couple of places in the car is really wearing, and that it's not long before I'm doing stupid things and have to go home and get the hell out of the car. So, therefore, I'm thinkin', not such a hot idea to go back to driving for a living. I feel like I'll be more able each day.

I wander around the house and feel the fog of underachievement, (thank you to whomever it was for coining that phrase on the phone with me today....I can't remember who said it, dammit!), but also am trying to be kind to myself. Argh.

I'm missing my Poppie a lot last night and today. I went to see Peter's dad read from his new book of poems and felt a real pang when I realized I wasn't going to be in an audience, sharing my Philly with the world. I have such strong memories of being with him when he shone for a crowd. And he did shine. Could you find a funnier guy? I think not.

Usually, I find myself with nothing to say until I sit down at the keyboard, and, when I can actually get my ass in the chair and start typing, it just comes pouring out. But, now, I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm processing things, but it feels hard to write. Perhaps it's the lack of activity. Although, I did have a very sweet day today.

I have a very strong attraction to a man I know who is married. (He's not in my daily circle, so y'all quit trying to figure out who it is.) He is attracted to me, too, but, obviously, we are not going to do anything about it. But it stirred something in me I haven't felt in a while. I mean, you know I love men. Doy. So very, very much. Mmmm. Men. So I see men every day, every minute practically that I think are attractive for all different reasons. Some smile back at me and there's a nice second of mutual tingling. But, this attraction to this married man....well, it's one of those ones where you know, timing being different, something really special could happen. We just slide right into easiness, comfort, the conversation is natural. And sparky, flirty. Though this won't come to pass, it does remind me what I'm looking for, and how it's worth it to wait patiently, going about the business of being my lovely, fabulous self. I have been getting kind of impatient when it comes to love, but I know it has a lot to do with looking for comfort and distraction. So this was a perfect reminder that the chemistry still happens, and mostly when I'm just doing my thang. Thanks, Mr. Married Man, who shall remain nameless. I fell asleep thinking about him last night, and it was really nice. It doesn't take much, these days.



Don't tickle any knickers.

By the way...I'm well aware that I'm completely avoiding the topic of my father's death. Why? Because....blech. Seriously. I have a lot of processing to do...blah, blah, blah.

I think it'll just leak out, like oil from the underbelly of a 1963 Volvo left too long in the long grass.

Slow, is what I'm saying here, folks. Sloooooow.

I just paused at the keyboard for, like, three minutes, staring off into space, thinking I had something very clever to say here. I do not.

I am stalling because I know when I go downstairs I'm just going to play Grand Theft Auto 3, San Andreas and then it will be so so so so late. But, I'm not quite ashamed and possibly a little bit proud to say, I love this game. It's grotesque and awful and violent and alarming...and very, very cathartic. You should see me work the nightstick.



Pregnant Patti

Those in the know will recognize Pregnant Patti from Halloween. Those not so lucky as to have met her....well, just hang on to your fallopians, (vas diferenses?), because the day you meet Patti is the day everything you knew to be true is turned on it's head. No. Actually, I think the day you meet Pregnant Patti is the day that all you believed to be true about the world is proven to be just as you thought, rendering you paralysed with fear and loathing for the lives of future generations.

Or something like that.

I love Patti. She brings out something in me that is so balls out. I mean, let's face it kiddies, I'm no shrinking violet, so, as you may well theorize, if she makes me balls out, it must be quite a sight. A lot of people who were at the Jolly Alderman the night of October 30th would back your theory with their anecdotal evidence.

How would you feel if a big toothed pregnant lady in rubber boots and kneesocks balancing a pint of beer on her round belly rubbed said belly in a seductive manner while looking you in the eye and inquired, "Hey, you wanna be my baby's daddy?", in a tone that can only be described as nicotine soaked? My guess is you would be dazzled.

And they were.

And I was.

And you will be.



George W. Bush killed my dad

Morbid, I know. Oh, well. I am morbid. And macabre. And maudlin. And this is my blog, so I can write what I want, (chin in air in haughty stance).

Anyway, my dad said he'd stay alive for the election, and he did, but then Bush won and that was all the poor man could take.

We lost him at 11:45pm, November 3rd.

Philip Stanley Savath
December 28, 1946 - November 3, 2004
He is missed.

I will write more about the losing of him, it was a remarkable experience, but I can't seem to focus for long right now. In fact, I'm supposed to be in the shower and getting ready to go out, but on the way to do that I sat here. Then I forgot about getting ready. One thing at a time seems to be my speed. If I accidentally get in a conversation on the way to the fridge, there's no hope in remembering what I wanted from said fridge. I just answered the phone and nearly forgot I was doing this.

I'm going for a walk now.

Very surreal days.

Peace. Kindness.




Oh, Oh, Oh, Ohio.


Well, well.

Well, well, well.

I am steeling myself for the avalanche of smug that I expect to find pouring down on us like Vancouver's January rain. Cold, endless, dark. Please, please, Ohio, come through for the rest of the world and get those 20 electoral college votes out to Kerry. I mean, it won't seal the deal, but there has to be something that says the American people DON'T want an imbecile for president. Of course, if they do re-elect the punk ass chump, then we will plunged far enough into the dark ages that perhaps the people will realize that fundamental changes are needed, and finally will rise up in earnest. Though that seems less than likely, too. God, I just get seething when I think of Bush's face in the event of victory. Come ON, America. Do the right thing, here. Put the rest of the world out of our misery. Oooooh, it hurts me.

Keep your fingers crossed.

I'll have more personal things to say tomorrow. I don't want to get too deeply into my broken heart tonight. I will say this, though. I feel like I'm on another planet entirely. Like I'm moving through life with surreality glasses on. Slow, everything seems kind of far away. I'm waaaaaaaay inside my head. Strange sensation.

Back to the election. I think I'll have nightmares tonight.

Peace. Kindness.



Still Kickin'.

I am sitting up, as the hours tick by into the wee ones. My brother and I are now fully ensconced at our dad and stepmother's house. I think we're down to weeks, maybe days with dad. It's amazing to be here, though I feel mired down in a miasma of emotions. Scared, sad, angry, tired, heavy, confused, glib...and I don't want to hear about how some of those aren't actually emotions. It's all just floatin' around in a big pile.

You know what would be the best right now? A boy. Someone waiting downstairs in my bed, just waiting. So when I was finally ready to sleep he would be there, opening his arms and ready to absorb my tears and frustration, hold me, stroke my hair.

I told my friend Colin in Scotland that I wanted it to be him, and, terribly sorry darling Colin, but I'm not sure it's person specific. It's something about the comfort of male energy. About feeling the weight lift for a while and being reminded that I am in my body, and happy there. About the chemicals that are created when skin touches skin.

I am so tired, but the later it gets the more anxious I get about going to sleep and leaving my dad alone in the dark. I hate thinking of him alone and scared and sad in the night. It just breaks my heart. But I do have to work, if only to squeak by. Am trying to keep my financial head above water, and am not doing too badly, but have nothing extra to service any debts, which doesn't free my anxious mind, either. This is a strange time.

I had a nap this afternoon, after work, after nearly falling alseep on the highway. During this nap I dreamed many things.

I dreamed I had a great big male tabby cat that laughed like a human when you rubbed his belly because he was ticklish.

I dreamed my best friend phoned my to say her boyfriend bailed, but I couldn't ascertain from her whether this meant that he left the relationship or jumped off their 21st floor balcony. She wouldn't answer me.

I dreamed that I couldn't stop crying, but that I was dreaming and woke up crying. But I was dreaming that I woke up crying. Like a picture of a television on a television with a picture of a television in the picture....etc.

All through all of these dreams I kept thinking about how my father had died, and I just cried and yelled and cried and cried some more. Even when the cat was laughing.

It was the least restful nap I've ever taken. Plus I slept through my therapy appointment, and that can't be good.

I think this past week has been the most intense of my life. I played in Ellie Harvie's improv show at Yuk Yuk's, first time there, I worked in the day, I saw the Rheostatics three times...two of which were wonderful, the last one I went to I freaked out with tiredness and sadness and left before it got good. I did Theatre Under the Gun, the 48 hour playwrighting festival with my wonderful Stretch Mouth'd Rascals....it was amazing. I want to tell you all about the process and the show, but can't tonight. I just needed to write for a while, and say thank you to you all for your sweet and thoughtful and supportive notes. And let you know I was still here. And still ok. Sad beyond belief....but more on the spiritual learning curve another day.






The quick brown fox.

I wrote this beautiful entry yesterday about God and human nature and the universe and our relationship to these things....about a lot. Really, it was good. I mean, I remember it was good, but I have no proof because I clicked on something wrong and lost it. Boy did that make me grumpy. Plus, I didn't have it in me to do it over, since it was from the heart and off the cuff the first time and I just didn't think I could repeat it. I hate it when that happens.

I spent the day reading to my dying father today. I love him.

I have lots to tell about my family situation, but will have to let it leak out slowly because it's pretty intense stuff.

For tonight, just know that Saturday at 8pm at the Vancouver East Cultural Centre, on Venables just west of Victoria, the Stretch Mouth'd Rascals will be performing whatever we write for the Theatre Under the Gun festival. It is a 48 hour playwrighting festival; we will receive an inspiration package Thursday morning and will write and rehearse a 15 minute piece to perform Saturday evening. It's always a fun evening, so c'mon down.

That is all for tonight, I have some sorting to do in my head before you get a really juicy entry.



Fight or flight.

I have been remiss. Have I already started one of these entries with that very phrase? I think so. At least, I certainly always think I've been remiss. I like the word. It sounds like you should feel shame. And I do.

It has been a decidedly strange time. I have been through a very weird period with my family, not all of them but some of them. I feel strongly that I'd like to go into detail here, but am not sure of the public airing of it just now. It certainly wouldn't go over with them. Nevertheless, we haven't exactly been seeing eye to eye.

Did you know that my father is dying? I should explain something here, quickly, for those not in the know. I come from a millenial family. I have many people in parental roles in my life. There's the mummy, and the bio dad, and the step dad, who is my brother's bio dad and with whom we lived from the time I was very small, and step dad's wife, and my mother's fiance, and my bio dad's girlfriend. Some have less parental input, some have more, some would like to have more. Who is in what category is not important. But, so you know, it's my step dad that is dying. He has been ill for 2 years and 8 months today.

The thing is, we haven't always seen eye to eye about things, nor have his wife and I. I don't know what we all thought would happen when he got sick, but somehow, in one's head, one imagines this great catharsis and sudden coming together so there is nothing now but love and compassion and empathy that this is a confusing and sad time for all involved. But it is precisely because it is such a confusing and sad and angry and crazy-making situation that, as it turns out, things just kind of get exacerbated. We have had our peaks and valleys, for certain, but I think we have very different world views and possibly even value systems. We've been in more of a canyon than a valley of late.

I'm starting with a very nice therapist at the Jewish Family Services tomorrow, and I am very much looking forward to having someone to guide me through this. I always think I can figure things out and handle things myself, but I definitely feel unequipped to wade through this one. I am just a bundle of emotions, sometimes to the point of shutting down. I wear myself out with sadness and worry sometimes, and have to get under the proverbial covers with proverbial tea for proverbial days.

Today, though, was a really nice day. Yesterday, too. Yesterday Siobhan and I cooked Thanksgiving dinner for Ian and Pia, as well as my mum's fiance, Andy. My mum's in North Carolina taking a jewelery making course until December. We missed her. She's fun at dinner parties. Siobhan and I cooked all day and were good and tipsy by the time it all came together, but we were so proud of ourselves for keeping the imbibing modest until we were sure we had the meal well in hand. Outdid ourselves, really.

Then, tonight, we had a houseful and ate all the leftovers. It was like another impromptu Thanksgiving. Very sweet evening.

Jonah and I went walking down by the river in South Vancouver today. Sometimes I forget about the little nooks and crannies of peace this city offers, and am always grateful when I remember to go and have some oxygen and quiet. Plus, Jonah stepped in the marsh and got a soaker, so that was hilarious. We are having fun getting to be friends. It's so lovely when someone new comes into your life and it's just easy. We have a very easy time together. I appreciate that.

I haven't booked any comedy shows for this week, but I am working at the Vogue Theatre for a flamenco show for the next five nights, if anyone wants to come down and check it out for free, get in touch and I'll see how sales are going.

Sweet dreams, dear ones. Be kind to each other. Acheive peace.



Quit shakin' your eyes!

Ooooh, drove flowers around for 10 and a half hours today!! Oh, man, I didn't realize it was that long until I counted just now. No wonder my eyeballs are all wonky. And my ass seems to be extremely flat and wide all of a sudden. Hm, didn't know it could do that. Is my ass made out of playdough?

I would like to leave a longer post...but I'm having an emotionally trying week and I don't think it's stuff I can really talk about here. Here's some good stuff, though.

Ryan Stiles said he wants the Stretch Mouth'd Rascals booked at his theatre in Bellingham as much as possible. One of our stretchy guys, Jeff, will be away until Februrary, but Ryan said he'd play with us. Cooooooool.

The show at DV8 this past Sunday was AWESOME. Aubrey got subjects from the audience and then the comics had to write jokes on the spot and get up one by one to tell them. We did it three times. The most consistent comic won ten dollars. (Actually, the most consistent comic won an I.O.U. for ten dollars from Aubrey, but his heart was in the right place.) These were the subjects suggested by the audience, two per round, comics choosing which one they wanted, or combining the two:

Round 1: Babies' Pants & Halloween

Round 2: Zoos & Feet

Round 3: Quantum Mechanics & The Film Festival

My jokes were totally lame for the first two rounds, but I pulled it outta the fire in round three with TWO quantum mechanics jokes:

I took my car into the shop the other day, I thought they were regular mechanics but I guess they were quantum mechanics because the tune up cost $400.

One atom says to the other atom, "How's your wife?"
The second atom says, "I don't know, she split."

Wokka wokka wokka

The most fun thing about the night was the risk factor. For me it was total joy because being an improvisor means that I'm prepared to fail when making stuff up on the spot. But you shoulda seen the other comics panicking. Rightly or wrongly it brought me much glee to watch them squirm. Heh. Aubrey is going to do that kind of show once a month there, the other three Sundays will be regular shows. I think as long as I can do shows like that one regularly I'll maintain my love of standup.

I have two crushes. But I'm not saying who they are!!



Sunday is for Lovers. Or, if you don't have a lover, Brunch.

Well. I was getting all prepared to sit down and write about how I was listening to the new Ben Harper with the Blind Boys of Alabama CD, (soooooooo goooood), but have found the upstairs CD player to be fussy today. I got all settled in with my mug of earl grey, (little sugar, little soy milk), and the CD only skips and skips on an endless little loop in the first song. Won't even play the second song. And the player seems to be making this noise....like an airplane taking off. I'm pretty sure that when your electronics start making noises like that it's time to make sculptures out of them.

But the tea is nice. And the day is spectacular. Spent the first hour and a half of my day on the phone. Lazing in bed having a nice, long chat with a friend who gives good phone. You know how there are a couple of people in your life that just seem to inspire fun phone conversations. Jonah is one of those.

Jonah. You can see how that name feels biblical on the tongue. What is it about biblical names that makes them feel so particular? Elijah. Joseph. Sarah. Rebekah. Ezekial. Yahweh. Jonah. A certain placement on the palate, a weight, a history, a wisdom, sort of a sweetness, too. Old testament, I guess. Hebrew.

I can hardly think of the name Jonah without thinking of the Violent Femmes song "Dating Days". Somewhere in that song, (I'm pretty sure it's that song), there's a lyric that goes, "Jonah's smart, he swallowed the whale...". I always think of that.

Preparing to meander over to Soma and visit with Pete. (Mr. New). Giving him time to accomplish some "good writing", as he put it. I don't know how much time he needs. What if he spends an hour and only gets mediocre writing done? Then he won't want to play cards. Or, he'll be just disgruntled enough that I'll win at cards, so maybe that would be good. I like winning.

I'm excited about the DV8 show tonight. Even though I've been waffling about maybe going to Victoria and skipping out on the show. But I won't. Aubrey will be getting subjects from the audience and all the comics will have to come up with new jokes right on the spot. Good times. Right up my clever little alley. (Does that sound dirty? I can't tell. Everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING, sounds dirty to me.).

But before that, but after cards with Pete, I'm going to go see Garden State with Ajineen. If you're ever friends with Ajineen, (you should be so lucky), you have to call her voice mail every few days and listen to the excellent outgoing messages she has. Songs! Funny. She's an awesome lady and I am very pleased with myself for getting to be friends with her. She's a sparkling, lovely, smart, sweet, self possessed woman, with talent up the wazoo. Actor, singer, fiddle/violin player...and on and on. And she's hot. Like...hot. Remember back during the Fringe Festival when I talked about the show "Plentiful"? She was one half of the creative force behind that.

Enough about Ajineen. Seriously.

Seem to have filled up my Sunday. Good. Have next two days off, too. Really, really, really, really, really need to clean up my room. And do laundry. Really, really, really, really. But not today. So effin' beautiful out there. What the hell am I doing on the computer?


Here I go.

You are lovely. Don't forget it.



Sneezing and sneezing

And sneezing...geez. This is ridiculous. My head is exploding!!

Show last night at Zizanie was sub par. I'm not sure what is going on with me and standup....it's different than it was before. Lots of the comics are saying they're glad to see me back up there, but I feel very, um, indifferent to it. I really want to get back to where it was such a joy and I'm convinced that the way to do that is to get our own theatre space going...a dedicated improv/sketch/standup theatre that is the base for a couple of ensembles. Then I could produce standup in a theatre environment, which I like better than the club scene.

Oh, my head is all stuffy and woozy now. I can't think straight. I'll write something funny tomorrow. Huh...that's practically my credo.

Just so you all know....I am seriously jonesing for some necking. Just so you know. Seriously. Kissing!! Kissing! KISSING!!!! God, I love kissing. You could ask practically anyone. Seriously. I'm extremely kissable. Yummy.



Late. Again.

I am late for everything all the time. Genetically predisposed to it.

On my way to Zizanie to do a little bitta standup. Show went alright last night. Neither as nervous nor as joyful as I would have expected. Wondering where standup fits in my creative life. Going to keep doing it for the time being and see what my heart says.

Someone from Kuwait read commented on my last blog entry. That's freakin' cool, strangers from that far away reading my little blog. He (I think it's a he) said it was funny, so that's encouraging.

Off to make the masses giggle!!


Drinky Drinkerson

Quite drunk just at the moment. If I left in all the mistakes I'm making it would be hilarious but unreadable. I'll do a paragraph at the end where I leave in all the mistakes. Trust me, keep reading.

I have, once again, made a complete ass of myself in front of a celebrity. I did a show at El Cocal tonight, which went fairly well, and Alan Cumming was there. (Look him up on imdb, you'll recognize him), and he's one of my favourite actors, and I haven't eaten anything today except popcorn, and then I had lots of wine at the show, and then I met him...oooh, have been aggressive and mouthy all night.

Okay. Too durnnk to continue. This si the drunk paragraph I promisted you wher eI wouldn't corect any of the mistaktes. It's alreasy funny. Oof . Am going to eat soemthing I put in the mcriowave and wathc the televeisoin. Oh, mky , god, ikt's worse than I though.lt. Will continue this tomorrow. Have acdcidentlally corected threee things in this paragaraph. Oh, dear. Four.

Nighty night then.




Woke up in a bit of a snit today. Just right off the bat. I had sort of weird, grouchy dreams, too. Can't retell them, don't remember them, but know they weren't restful.

I'm a bit bent out of shape about money, I think. Had to take my car in yesterday after the engine seemed to be on fire. Blue smoke all of a sudden everywhere. Stupid cars. I wouldn't bother but I'm caught in this place where I need the car for work, so I gotta pay for it in order to get paid. Capiche? Argh. Anyway, needless to say, for anyone that's known me for any length of time, I don't have extra money just lying around waiting for my car to break down. So, now it's rent or car. But without car I can't work.....you see? Wish it didn't get me all jangled up, but it does.

Although, it has just occurred to me this second that I might be all out of sorts because I have to go do comedy tonight. Very nervous. And after my rant last night feeling a bit snarly at it.

I'm going to write something now. But what? But what? Jokes, jokes. I want to just get up there and vent, but I don't know how to make it funny. Same, dumb struggle I've been having for the last two years. How do I take what I believe and make it funny? Just keep punching, that's the thing to do.



Feminism Revisited

I am having a bee in my bonnet about the state of womanhood. I have been conversing with a friend and we have both realized that it's just in the last couple of years that this anger at the situation has been building. That we had both left it behind in our early twenties, but it has reared again, and fiercely. What we as women are contending with as well as the role models we are provided, is, in short, fucked. That was a terrible sentence, but I'm sleepy and the point is just to get it off my chest. I have not perfected it.

Listen, I don't want to get into the global issues, all I want to talk about is my recent sojourns back into the standup comedy world. I don't know if I didn't care before, or if it's because I took time away from it and spent more time in the theatre/improv/sketch world here, but, whatever the source, I am mad. I don't know why it has taken me so long to recognize the straight, white, maleness of the standup community, and the complete lack of interest on the part of the straight, white males to make it any different. You see, a male comedian can dress how he wants, shlubby or stylish, or whatever, and still be thought of as a great comic. But a woman can be smart, funny, wicked, engaging and an all around great comic and not be considered great until she puts on knee high boots, a short skirt and a cleavage exposing top. Now, those of you who know me know I like to look pretty, and certainly like to play up the tit factor, but that's my own business. I don't think it should have any bearing on my talents. Not that I've noticed it yet for my own self, but coming off the Fringe festival, where I have seen so many bold, beautiful, moving and hilarious performances by women, and where I was around so many women, and the improv scene where there are so many women I and our male cohorts respect....then showing up at comedy nights again, and it's really, really different. I am having reservations about diving into it again. I don't like being told by all these boys how it should be done. I guess that leaves it to me to do it my way, though I'm not sure what that is yet. Plus, I'm not sure how to turn this mad into funny. I think I'll ask my dad.

Somehow I thought writing a little of this down would help, but I'm still mad. I haven't even addressed my despair at women allowing themselves to be whorish all over the cover of magazines and the tv. Ich. That's a blog entry for another time.

Power to the People.

Sisters....we gotta get it together.


Straight Up Info

Stand up shows this week:

Wednesday, El Cocal, 9:30pm, Commercial Drive between Parker and Napier.

Thursday, Zizanie, 9:30pm, Northwest corner 7th and Fir.

Sunday, DV8, 10pm, Davie between Richards and Seymour.

Thursday next, Lafflines, 8:30pm, New Westminster right by Columbia Station.


Bissett off more than you can chew?

The titles to these things really only mean anything to me.

Apparently, I've been slacking off on the blog entries. Apparently, I have some dedicated readers who want me to keep up. Apparently, I am the only thing in the sad workday lives of my peers that keeps their chins up. (Right)

Had to slow down a bit after the Fringe Festival ended. Except that I didn't. There was the Beastie Boys, which you heard about, and working, and going to lots of comedy nights, and another show in Bellingham, and Sketch in Time last night.

Work was a tiny bit thin this week, Rocking Monday, but Tuesday and Wednesday left something to be desired in the earnings department. Hoping my car holds out for a little while longer before I have to take the clanky old thing in. Seriously, it now sounds so bad that strangers in the street are stopping and looking at me when I drive by. I think the muffler is banging around down there. Plus, it's burning oil like it was a field in Iraq...(remember the Gulf War?)...and I think the brakes need to be looked at, but I'm not sure because the possible squeaking is drowned out by the banging. Yeesh. I wish I had a barterable trade, you know, like cutting hair or something. Some beads and blankets to trade for mechanical work.

Show in Bellingham this week was good, but weird. The group on before us was...um...not good, to put it gently. Like a bad cable access/Fringe show. A really bad one. It put the backstage area into a weird mood. The audience still loved us, for crying out loud how could they not, but we definitely had a focus problem. Bit of a chaotic show for us. But good, too, on the learning curve. We're really getting a chance to hone this format in an arena that's so safe and warm. It's a pleasure to be playing for such large audiences, and ones who really want to be there, who came to see a show. I'm glad we're not trying to figure out what works and what doesn't in front of ten half drunk people who have no hockey to watch so came out to drink and didn't know they were getting improv. You know, your typical Vancouver crowd. We're starting some talks about getting a space and sharing it with another company or two, so that we have a theatre that is dedicated to improv/sketch/standup...somewhere that people can remember, instead of them trying to keep track of the names of companies, and find out what venue they'll be at this week. I think people like to have a destination they can count on. Anyway, that's in the chatting stages.

Phil, my stepdad, isn't doing so well this week. Went with Susan, his wife, to Parksville to try to have a little vacation, but got quite sick almost immediately. They passed a sleepless and scary night and turned around and came home. He's spending the day in the hospital getting antibiotics and a platelet transfusion, and he's pretty whacked out. His blood sugars are all messed up, so that makes him pretty foggy. I doubt he'll stay in the hospital, though, because that always makes him sicker. Seems like, at this point, home is just better no matter what the outcome. It's always the most awful when he's in the hospital.

My friend Chad suggested that Jewish Family Services has a sliding scale for counselling, so I think I'm going to look into that. I was thinking I was doing ok without talking to someone, but it's getting kind of confusing again, so a little guidance through this might be just the thing.

I'm going to write some jokes, I think, what with all these comedy shows coming up this week. Again,

Weds, El Cocal
Thurs, Zizanie
Sun, DV8

Yikes. Still nervous, even though improv has been going so well. Although, I did have to introduce our group at Sketch in Time last night, and I did have to go out with a microphone onto the stage by myself at the Arts Club, and I never, never wanted to leave. So there's that I've got going for me. The love, oh, god, the love. I could just subsist on that feeling of standing on the stage having everyone looking at me expectantly. It makes me beam. I realized I can't be an angry comic. Even if I'm mad about stuff. Because as soon as I step out there I'm too damn thrilled with it to be mad. It's so great. So so so great. Mmmmmmm. More.




Giant Microbes

Please, for the love of God....look at this. Ow, my stomach hurts. You all know what you can get me for my birthday.

(I tried to insert this as a proper link, but that didn't work. Afraid you'll have to cut n' paste.)


I am in love with these. I find ebola particularly charming.

By the by....the aforementioned comedy dates are for sure.

Sept 29, El Cocal
Sept 30, Zizanie
Oct 3, DV8

The standup world is about to get rocked....by me....no fat thigh jokes. Seriously. God, I love comedy. And plush microbe dolls.





I had so much fun at the freakin' show tonight. I was old, and I didn't care. I danced my ass off, annoying the 17 year old boring kids behind me. At the end I told them I was old so I could be as dumb as I wanted, and the girl, who was the most bored of anyone in the whole place, sneered at me and said, in a very teenage tone, "I don't care". Then I said they were so quiet during the show, and her boyfriend laughed and obviously started thinking how much more interesting 32 year old women are than his boring girlfriend. I recorded all of Sabotage on my voice memo on my phone, and it sounds like crap but I don't care. Whenever I need a little pick me up in my day I'll just play it back and get happy. What a wicked bunch of guys. Money Mark and Mixmaster Mike kick ass.

Total concert satisfaction.

If at first you fuck it up...well....try. Just try.

Firstly, a bitta bidness:

Upcoming performance dates:

Friday, September 24th at the Upfront Theater in Bellingham, with the Stretch'd Mouth Rascals, Improv

Sunday, September 26th at Sketch in Time at the Arts Club Theatre on Granville Island, with Improv Outlet, Improv

Hopefully (yet to be fully confirmed, but very likely):

Wednesday, September 29th at El Cocal, Standup (Commercial and Parker)

Thursday, September 30th at Zizanie, Standup (7th and Fir)

Sunday, October 3rd at DV8, Standup (Davie and Seymour)

Am working on putting a box on the side of this thing that always has my show dates, but it requires html and that is not my forte.

So, had a totally crazy week, what with working, seeing fringe shows, being in a fringe show and doing shows in Bellingham. I am so impressed with the calibre of work at this year's fringe festival. I can't tell you how many good shows I saw. Seems like every day someone talked about something new that you just "had" to see. Remarkable. Had some pretty good schmooze time, too. My advice to you? When the Pick of the Fringe starts this week, go see Cactus and Father's Day. And, if you ever EVER hear of the Back Kitchen Release Party or Plentiful playing somewhere, go see them, too, because they were wonderful and more wonderful.

I drove all over hell's half acre today, delivering flowers, and, while driving back, had a rather emotional conversation with my popster. I think I have been neglecting my family of late, and what the hell good is life if you let your family slide away? Time to reorganize my priorities. I think here is a good place to point something out. Now, most of you already know this, because you know I talk about Phil so much, but I think he doesn't know this enough. He is an enormous part of why I'm good at being funny and fast, and my undying love for improv and comedy. I trundled along with him at a very early age to watch late night Theatresports at City Stage, back in the early eighties. A deep love of storytelling, teamwork, wit, and brains was instilled in me, and I remember having such great conversations with him about the art form. It seems to me that we had a very nice relationship surrounding writing and performing as I was growing up, but somewhere along the way that connection kind of short circuited. I think that I never felt like my work could live up to his. I mean, it's kind of intimidating to have parents who are geniuses at what they do. It's only now that I'm really developing my confidence in my skills as a writer, comedian and theatre artist, and, surely, I owe so much of my talent in no small way to my parents. In particular, I believe that so much of my understanding of comedy and improv come from my dad, Phil. (Listen, other parents, you'll get your own damn blog entries later, I don't wanna hear any complaints).

The funny thing is, no matter how much he tells me that he wants to be part of my work process, I still have this weird thing that I want things to be perfect when they land on his doorstep. You know how you want your parents to be proud. I want him to see that he has been so deeply ingrained in me, that it's like he's with me all the time when I'm working. I'm going to make more of an effort to include him in my process, even though I will feel quite nervous and naked about it at first. These things take some getting used to.

Why does it seem easier to say/write these things thinking they are just going off into the ether than to just say them right to him? My brain gets in my way sometimes, I think.

Anyway, Phil, I love you.

Now, I'm going to the Beastie Boys. Dance, dance!



Rain, Weird Dreams

So much damned rain. Good thing I'm making rigatoni, I love rigatoni. I'd love it more if there was sunshine.

I had the funniest dream the other night. Well, I thought it was funny. I was having this affair with Ryan Stiles, and it was really hot and everything, very sexy part of the dream, and we were making out and all naked and stuff when he leaps out of bed and runs naked into the yard screaming at the neighbour to get his stuff off Ryan's lawn, and I can hear him yelling about the junk creeping onto his lawn when I realize he's yelling, "Goddammit, Joe Flaherty, I'm sick of your garbage on my lawn!". Yep, that's right. I dream of Canadian Comedy.

I am in this fringe show tonight, tomorrow night, the next night and the night after that. It's raining and raining and I've had the two busiest days yet delivering flowers, it's crazy at the store because of Rosh Hashanah, (the Jewish New Year). So now all I want to do is curl up with my book and some tea and not go anywhere. Eh, it'll be fun. Gotta go dress like a lesbian now!



Gorilla Theatre

Hello, lovely friends, (and strangers, too, apparently!)

Here's how it shakes down today. Have had a remarkable week. It is very important that off the bat I thank some people.

Tallulah Winkelman, Tom Jones, Jeff Gladstone, Ryan Gladstone and Bruce Horak.

What a crew! We played as the Stretch'd Mouth Rascals this past weekend in Bellingham, at the Upfront Theatre. We arrived to food and drink, and were put up in a nice hotel, felt very special. We did two hour and a half shows back to back Friday and Saturday night and were greeted with full houses each show, and of warm and enthusiastic audiences to boot. People even recognized us on the street on Saturday and thanked us, for they felt starved for good entertainment. It was all a bit heady, frankly. Strangers hugged us after shows! Come on, Vancouver, step up to the plate!

The format for our improvised shows was wonderful, thanks to Keith Johnstone and Loose Moose in Calgary for ever having conceived of it. Very satisfying for both players and audiences, as there are built in conventions that make it fun for everyone to fail.

Sheila, Leslie, DK, JK, Tim....and all who work there...thank you for the care and feeding of us, and for the invitations to return. Truly, this was a wonderful experience.

Good grief, it has just begun to rain with purpose. I think I'll stay inside a little longer today. Reading an excellent book, anyway, Under the Banner of Heaven, by John Krakauer. All about murder and mayhem in the Mormon Church. Very, very addictive. Not to mention that everything I want to wear is in the dryer. So, in lieu of going out in pants that are too tight, or naked, I'll wait around for that to finish.

Hey, it's the Fringe Festival and I have a couple of recommendations. Please do yourself a favour and get your butt to Father's Day. A truly gorgeous show. Also, Patti Fedy in...The Hunt, is, as expected, lovely and charming and funny. That Emelia Symington-Fedy, she is something else.

Plus, I'm in a show Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights at the Lick Club at 455 Abbott Street downtown. It's called Good Morning Gaytown. Come see!

Then, once you've seen a show, come find me in the Fringe Club, where I always am. Flirting like there was no tomorrow. Why not see for yourself? It's quite a show. Heh.



Points of interest

Listen, I have lots to tell. Seriously. But I'm very sleepy. So, in the mean time, I'd like to just let you all know, (all three of you who read this), that I have a few things coming up that really, really excite me.

One...this coming Friday and Saturday night I will be in Bellingham with Jeff Gladstone, Tom Jones (Vancouver's own, lest there be a mixup), and Tallulah Winkelman improvising our little hearts out as The Stretch Mouthed Rascals. We have two shows per night, each well over an hour, at the Upfront Theater, 1208 Bay Street. Owned by Ryan Stiles, by the way. Coool. Anyway, we've been working on a very fun format, not conceived by us, but borrowed and with a dash of us tossed in the mix, and we're all looking forward to playing our tushes off.

Two...for four glorious nights, Sept 16-19 at 8pm at LICK club at 455 Abbott street in Vancouver, I will be appearing in "Good Morning Gaytown", part of the Vancouver Fringe Festival. The darlings Michael V. Smith (Miss Cookie LaWhore) and Morgan Brayton (Daddy Rex Rexington) are the stars and creators and I am honored to have been asked to participate. Plus it makes my hanging out at the Fringe club every night have some legitimacy.

Working on some interesting writing projects with Ian Boothby, as well, who has been kind enough not to be disappointed in my jibber jabbery efforts. What a guy.

I think things are kind of falling into place. Quitting that job was the best thing I ever did.

Plus, Warren called me lovely in his blog, www.livejournal.com/users/talentlessclod and I really liked that.

Tonight I babysat Benjamin Bailly, the best two year old ever. What a wunderkind! Pix to follow soon. So cute, so smart, and the most amazing comic timing. The kid's a wicked good comedian.

Time for sleeping now, but tomorrow I will wax philisophical on the fleeting nature of love and lust and the joy found in work and the connundrum of politics. Etc.



Oh, How Far We've Come

Dear Infidelia,

Why, why, Infidelia, does 90% of my brain seem devoted
solely to dirty thoughts? Why am I consumed by the
sweaty, grunting, moaning possibilities at any given

Oh, let's get serious, I:WP, (you don't mind if I call
you I:WP, do you? It's pronounced "I whip", in case
you were wondering), I don't really care why I'm
incapable of a moment where at least one part of my
brain isn't devoted to wondering what the barista's
fingers would feel like wrapped around my
throat....how many times a day do I fall in love? In
lust? Hundreds. Well, tens, anyway. And you know
something, I:WP, I love myself this way. I am a
dirty, dirty girl. There's no getting around it.

My only real question is this: can a dirty, dirty
girl like me be a one man woman? Can a one woman man
love a girl like me? Stay tuned, I suppose. I still
am. Haven't subscribed to spinsterhood yet, no
siree...but can a slut be a spinster, even if she
never marries? Oh, the questions burn. Like the fire
in my loins.

I eagerly await your advice, I:WP...eagerly, moistly,
excitedly await it. Hurry!



Good job, Blanche.

I love the job. I'm so happy. I had a great day yesterday. Just pick up de flowers and den deliver de flowers. So much left over for other pursuits. (Rrrowrrr, baby, what's your name?)

No, seriously...props up to Lesley and Sarah May for the chain reaction, so happy to be working again.

Anyway, yesterday my whole car smelled like flowers all day. They do really nice work at this joint. One time the address was wrong, so that was fun, but I'm pretty smart, so I tracked the right one down. Logic, you see. Another time the elevator in the building was broken and the delivery was on the 10th floor. Yup, 20 flights of stairs later...the lady felt bad and tipped me 4 bucks. I was laughing so much by the time I got to the top...I don't know, it just seemed so funny. It was one tiny orchid and I had to go up all these stairs, like it was an emergency, or something. The laughing made me have to stop at the 9th floor for a minute, winded. I mean, the combination of the laughing and the realizing that I am waaaay out of shape. I knew that, but I was avoiding situations that would make it glaringly obvious. No longer. Probably a good thing.

Then, the last delivery of the day was out to Crescent Beach. Damn, so pretty out there. But then it meant I had to come back into town at 4 on a Friday afternoon. It took almost 2 HOURS (are you listening???) to get back into Vancouver. So, at 3:30 I was thrilled with the job, by 5:30 I was pret-ty cran-ky. Which I later took out on someone who didn't deserve it, so that was nice of me.

I'm keeping the job, though, traffic and all, because I can dress however I want, and I hardly have to talk to anyone, and I can listen to music all day, and, actually, the exercise of running all over the place is prrret-ty prrret-ty gude.

I'm going to get a haircut. So there.



Who wears short shorts?

Gots me a job, yo. Deliverin' the flowers to the peeps what ordered 'em, or the peeps what didn't, but what the other peeps, the first group of peeps, ordered 'em for the second group of peeps, what will be surprised by them, the flowers, not the first group of peeps...ah, crap.

That's me in the Tercedes, rockin' out, makin' people smile. Don't have to cowtow, or answer phones or dress up or pander to any minionesses. But do get to have fresh flowers in my car smellin' the joint up all purty like. Plus, me n' my pally who also works there are going to kind of job share. Very convenient.

I like-a work-a. Me happy.

Anybody else want to give me any work? Like, stage managing? That's what I'll be looking for while I drive them bloomin' things around.

Oh, and, hopefully playing tonight in the improv show. And, a little guest spot in a fringe show. And maybe some other tricks up my sleeve, things I cannot speak of here...all will be revealed.



Napoleon Dynamite

If you haven't seen this movie yet....GO. Run, do not walk. Oh, my, GOD it was funny. Such attention to detail, both in the direction and the performances. Amazing characterization. It's nearly impossible to think of these actors as anything but the characters they portrayed. Blah blah. What are you doing still reading this? Go see the movie. For serious. I can't emphasize this enough.

After seeing Napoleon Dynamite I felt very surreal, like all things I knew to be true were at once proven and disproven. This is a strange state to walk around in. I had to make myself a very plain dinner and watch very plain television to ground myself...but when that didn't work I wrote comedy instead.

Speaking of which, I want you all to know that in September it is my plan to get back on the ol' comedy train and start performing regularly again. I will post all my show dates and times here so you can check 'em out. If you know about this journal. If you don't, you're not here right now so the hell with ya.

Have I mentioned that my little brother rocks the mike? I just wanted to say that. He's awesome. I think you all know that about the Jesse. THE Jesse. There is no other Jesse like him. Anywhere. He makes me laugh and cry and think and wrassle. The kid's got spunk. He also loved Napoleon Dynamite. I think people like us really relate to the lead. So nerdy, so loveable, so cocky.

I am now off to email some resumes, cull my book collection, (selling stuff!!), set up my 'puter and make a writing nook downstairs, take out the recycling and do the dishes. Oh, right, shower and go see Bourne Supremacy. Plus I might see if Warren is available for hilarity this afternoon. Then I think I'll go to the Urban Well to watch the excellent improvisors there. Maybe even talk about gettin' on stage there in Sept. Hm. I better focus. That might be two days worth of things to do.

Oh, yeah. I watched Siobhan defend her thesis today. Woohoo, Shoone!! I am so proud. She made a powerpoint presentation and the last page of it was her thank yous and I was on it. I couldn't figure out why, but then Ginnie pointed out to me that were Team Moral Support. Siobhan is soooo cool and smart. I am lucky and grateful to be friends with her. She has awesome hair.



The Beach is Beck...

...and she even does impressions!

Yep, apparently I do a pretty good George Dubya. Read on.

Oh, I'm so excited right now! After tonight's Swordplay show, (which you should see, if I haven't already made that clear), I played in the FREE improv show directly following. It is the first time I have performed as an improvisor for a couple of years and it was AWESOME!! I have been reluctant to get back up there and do it because my parting experiences with the form were less than friendly. I sort of had all my good improv qualities beat out of me, but now I feel like I'm back to where I like to be with it. It helped that I was playing with great improvisors that I really admire, it made me feel supported, like I could trust that no matter what happened someone would be there to catch me. As it turns out, they didn't have to. I'm going to do it again very soon. So watch this space for upcoming dates and times!!

Mmmmm....I'm going to have such a good sleep.

Thank you Diana, Penelope, Roger, Nick and Ian for a sweet little reunion with a long lost love.




So I'm stage managing this hilarious show. So far, only a few people I know have shown up to see it. It is sooooo worth your time. A little escape of laughter. So good for your soul.

I reiterate: www.swordplaytheplay.com

Weds, Thurs, Fri, Sat until Aug. 28th. 8pm. Playwright's Theatre Centre on Granville Island.

Plus, there's a free improv show afterwards, if you are so inclined. Go to the website, find the details, see my picture.


ps - if anyone has any stage managing or production managing work for me, that'd be excellent. I'm back on the freelancing train!

Graham Clark Eats Graham Crackers! Film at eleven!

I'm trying to write this right now, but the computer is next to someone who is sleeping on our couch, so I'm trying to type quietly. This is a very difficult task. I may need to type in some kind of shorthand code.

Soon need thing room boy sleeps. Sneak. No wake. Nice boy. No wake.

Nope, leaving out words doesn't help.

Ok, sneaking in there now for thing I need. TV is in there, too, dammit. Now I'm going to have to read, or something. Oh, reading's for nerds!


Special shout out to my main man GC, hosterly with the mosterly, duuuude!



I've been reading some random blogs. At first I got a little freaked out because it seemed like all the blogs I was reading had the same style of writing and same content as mine!! Ack. This led me to think I was unoriginal, which, I suppose I am, though I hate admitting I'm not special. But then it got me thinking I was normal, and not koo koo bananas, which made me happy again. Until I realized that that meant I had to get things done and not hide behind the skirts of being unstable as some sort of excuse for doing whatever the hell I please. I'm still going to do whatever the hell I please, though I suppose I'll take SM's advice to heart and start making preparations for the time when I don't get away with murder, when it all comes crashing down.

I digress.

Then, the more blogs I read, the more I realized were boring and annoying. How, how will I keep this from becoming that?

Any suggestions? My huge audience? I think there are one or two of you out there. Maybe just the one. Fitz. God bless Fitz.

I'm going to go email my resume to some people now. In pdf format, if you can believe it. Oh, Adobe, how did we ever live without you?

Buy Canadian!! Shop Le Chateau!!



I'm becoming a cat person.

Sleepy Plimp 2
Sleepy Plimp 2,
originally uploaded by aktnir.
Our house during the day. Sometimes it's the cat...sometimes me or Chris. But you get the general idea. Ahhhh.

Poor Plimp has such a rough life. She caroused last night until 6am, fighting with neighbourhood cats...if you knew Plimp and what a fraidycat she is, you'd know how hilarious it is that she stayed out all night. Usually jumps when you reach for the remote control.


I'm pretty sure we're being tested...

I have said it before and I'll say it again...George W. Bush is the dumbest jackass ever. I just watched he and Laura interviewed by Larry King. It was shocking, really, and I can't believe I still get shocked by the purity of his dumbness, but I do, and so it was. Please, please, please, if you can find the footage, watch it. Not one comedy writer I know could come up with anything funnier.

Oh, God, make it stop.



The healing properties of chanting and also more on Minioness of Evil and evilness of money.

I have lost my power to see into the future and have become the world's worst straight man. That's it, now I'm going to have to be funny ALL the time!! Oh, God, the pressure!! Ok. Settle down. You can do it. You've been through low comedy times before, and you've always bounced back. Maybe if there was chanting...ok, on 3 everyone chant "Fuh-NEE! Fuh-NEE!" 1....2.....3....GO!! Oh, I can hear you, I can! I'm Tinkerbell, coming back to life! Woohoo!

Ok, I know I said I gave two weeks notice, but then, the night before last, I couldn't sleep and walked around for hours, thinking I was certifiable, (everyone thinks they're crazy, right? RIGHT??), and I had a realization. I'm immobilized when people are mean to me. I completely don't have a set of coping skills for malicious behaviour. I just feel like a kid again, when Diana and Laura stole my 10 speed bike that I bought my own self with money I earned, a bike I bought in Ontario and managed to get all the way back to Vancouver, AND it was red. Anyway, they stole it and threw it in a dumpster. I never, ever understood behaviour like that, and to this day it just stymies me.

Anyway, I was up all night, afraid of my own possible retaliatory actions if I set foot in the office again, so I called and that's that. Of course I'm panicking. What kind of head up my asser do you think I am? I know it was rash, I know the future implications and ramifications, even though some people think I don't think about these things, I do. I just can't weather the poison, and certainly, especially not these days. So in the interest of self preservation...

Although, to be perfectly honest, I haven't exactly detensed. You know that Rheostatics song where the lyrics are "I'm feeling really down, today, I'm feeling like I'm owing money..."...well, that about describes it. Of course, I AM owing money, and that's part of it. I hate money. I suppose if I loved money I'd attract it, but I can't stand the stuff. It just ruins everything. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like having it, I just hate getting other people involved in any way. This has been a looooooooong learning curve for me, and I have a looooooooooooooooong way to go. I have other good qualities, I hope, to balance it out. I wish it wasn't the deciding factor, though.

Oh, for the love of Pete, (I do love Pete, I do!), I have gotten into full blown whining. Ich.

Stay tuned for installments on money and love and God and birthday party detritus.



photo finish

and this, too
and this, too,
originally uploaded by Infidelia.
just testing how this whole posting photos to your blog thing works. keeping my fingers crossed because there seems to be a lot of steps.

I'm about to push "post entry"....here goes...any second...

9 days and counting

Monday morning. Mmmm. Monday. Can't you feel the Monday?

Ian says I should write about things I find funny or things that piss me off in this blog. I can see his point. Those are kind of the things that people like to read about, right? It's no good complaining, or making laundry lists. Although, it's kind of interesting to look at people's lists. I like knowing what people find important to write down. For instance:

Things to do today:

-Loan Morgan car
-Be at work and look present
-Write in blog (Hey!! Lookit me go!!)
-Email dad
-Go to Ian's office and pick up the cd's for the sound cues for Swordplay, the brilliant show you are all going to come and see because it's healthy to laugh your tush off.
-Solidify date for Shoone's birthday party, then invite people.
-Look into Shoone's present..(ha, you'd like it if I put down what it is, wouldn't you, Siobhan, you sly devil)
-Practice banjo (honestly)


The best thing is that I'm going to get back to comedy, and the material I've gathered at this job...oooh, people should be careful with me or they'll find themselves on the sharp end of a pointy joke. Hee hee hee hee.

Please go to swordtheplay.com and find out where you need to be...



Quitter's Remorse

Ooooh, I feel sort of sick. This isn't the victory I was hoping for!! Maybe once I'm sure I have a new job I'll settle these roiling stomach acids.

On a different note, I saw, accompanied by the lovely Miss Georgia and accidentally the dashing Mr. Adam, La Dolce Vita. Yes, the Fellini classic. Um....I was bored. Ok, not every second, because it's very beautiful, and written with truth and poetry, and the performances are gorgeous...yet....bored. It may be Fellini's tendency to not tell a story and to shed characters like he would shed a tuxedo on prom night. Anyway, I can tick it off my list. I'd like to own the DVD and watch individual scenes whenever I felt like it. Kind of like reading anything Milan Kundera has written. (Oh, lookit me show off my smarties).

It rains and rains. Lovely. Ironically, the best time to have outdoor fires....in an Alanis Morisette kind of sense of ironic.



Last Day

Oh, yeah. My last day is two weeks from today. Heh. Drinks, anyone?



So...it wasn't just me. Apparently the girl before me had the same complaint, but they didn't listen to her because she was an idiot (their word). I feel vindicated and have quit. My stomach is feeling much better, and my neck muscles seem to be untensing.

My mother is going to kill me.



It might just be me.

That's right. Maybe I have a bad attitude. After all, I've been feeling like a petulant teenager lately, perhaps I've been radiating teen angst vibes to those situated closest to me in the office. All I really know is that I can't take it swirling around in my brain much longer. Motion, I need motion! Someone kick me in the ass, please. Right in the tushy!

I swear, funny stories will appear here magically soon enough.

Mothers shouldn't pick fights with their children over the phone when their children are at work. Am I right?


Already dry, the rain.

I'm feeling a bit embarassed about the self indulgent nature of this thing. Will get over that shortly, no doubt. Am now completely confused about what to do with my life at work. I need a guidance counselor. Everyone I want to talk to at work about my work problem is on vacation, leaving me feeling like chewing off my leg to get out of the trap.

Is there some kind of rule about being cheerful in a blog? Cause if there is, I'm fucking breaking it. Cause I'm such a badass. A badass blogger. So very, very badass.


Festival Express

Just saw Festival Express. Bit thin, but awesome performances. The train seemed very familiar to me somehow. Made me feel again, as I seem to most days, the incredible luck I've had to have been around the Caravan Farm Theatre and all of it's accompanying magic.

God bless Rock and Roll. I'm going to think about rock and roll all day tomorrow in order to try to distract myself from all the bile at work. Toxic, my office, for me, at the moment. Somebody I work very closely with appears to hate me and is making my day hell. I don't think I make enough money for it to be hell. So there. Kiss the devil, you minioness of evil! This rock and roll heart will never cave to your passive aggressive acidic bullshit!!

Whew. You'd never know how much love I have in me some days.



Pick a colour, any colour.

Oh, for crying out loud. I'm trying to pick a template for this fresh new blog. Something no one has ever used before in the history of blogging. (I'm already annoyed with all variations on and the root of "blog"). Actually, all I want is to pick some colours I have in mind, then put some pictures on it, then go. I'm sad I'm not as nerdy as I thought I was. Waaaaaaah!

Mmm. Earl Grey Tea. The elixir of the Gods.

Okay, back to colour picking. Any sage words?



So this is blogging.

Well. Well, well. I feel what is perhaps a misguided sense of power. I can already see why people do this. You are reading my words! You are still reading them! You will continue to read them and see how it ends! What if it never ends? Well. Well, well.

It's not out of the realm of possibility that in the future there will be profound and possibly life altering substance in these pages. Having said that, it's also not out of the....well, there might just be dirty jokes.

I am wetting my feet, up to my ankles, say, maybe soon halfway up my calves, then knees, then thighs, then maybe stay put for a bit before my more sensitive areas are exposed to the frigid river of blogging. Splash me and get your ass kicked.

So much love.