No Ordinary Store

It's nice to know in these tough economic times that certain boutiques are still able to thrive. Take this gift shop in my neighborhood...



When choosing the name "Phoenix Gift Shop", the owners were not deterred by the fact that the store is not located in Phoenix, AZ nor does the sign feature a picture of a bird by the same name. They do not specialize in River Phoenix memorabilia. They just like the sound of it.



They also like the idea of providing a gift shop in an area where there are no tourists, and no nearby museums. They are reaching a certain niche market with the "gifts" they offer. They sell bags, and they sell school supplies. Actually, they sell school supply, so presumably one type...rulers maybe? Probably not backpacks because they already specify that they have bags. For the bald, they sell the gift of human hair, and for the kids in need of more than school supply, they sell toys.



But could a store that sells such random items REALLY be on the up and up? Or am I correct in my theory that it is an alien headquarters from which they can observe us, notating our patterns so that they may finally overtake us, one unsuspecting Saturday morning?!


Only alien kids like human hair toys.

The Labyrinth

Gather 'round children, and I'll tell you a tale. The tale of the subway station called Fulton Street, where people go in, but no one ever goes out. Particularly if you have entered through the opening on Broadway, and you are seeking to take the M train downtown into Brooklyn.


Behold! When you are upstairs, there is no sign for the Brooklyn-bound M train; only directions for getting to the M that goes in the opposite direction! But get to the train you must, so you descend. Only to find that the same directions exist below as exist above, directing you to take the same staircase over and over again until you lose your mind.


Finally when you buy a churro, wipe the cinnamon and sugar from your mouth three times, and say, "You have no power over me!" the tiled walls move, and the correct passage way is revealed to you.

I have spent 20 minutes in this station on two separate occasions searching for the same track.

Old Spice

There are two things you can count on in a New York City bodega.

1) The hamburger buns smell like kitty litter (Luke Cunningham has a hilarious bit on this)

2) Old products never die.

Apparently no one is ashamed when non-perishables from the 1970s creep their way to the front of the shelf. This Durkee garlic salt sticks out like a sore thumb. The brown label says, "My Cutlass gets 10 miles to the gallon, Jack!" and the red and yellow dots prove the color orange has not been invented yet. Applying this garlic salt might just put shag on your chest.

But let's not spare the other options:
Accent! (with a misplaced accent) says "Great on Lowfat foods" - implying that lowfat foods taste awful, so please keep making your refried beans with lard. They have also personified Food Flavor, which is an interesting marketing choice. Maybe they assume you are cooking with something that's still alive. "Wake up your food before you put its lights out for good!"

McCormick Italian Seasonings and Lemon and Herb Seasonings seem normal enough-- for Magnum, P.I. Someone want to update the artwork a little? Maybe think beyond Bob Ross illustrations since he's not around to make them anymore.

La Flor garlic. Saving you time by chopping it for you, and saving you the trouble of leaving it out for bugs to crawl in. Don't worry about that dark brown object getting out. It's sealed for your protection.

Communication is Key

To give you a little insight into how Luke and I are learning to converse as a married couple, I give you an excerpt of our text messages. I am coming from an evening of comedy in Manhattan, and he is finishing up a pick-up basketball game in Brooklyn.

I let him know that instead of taking a train home, I would take a different train to pick him up, and he let me know that he was finishing his last game. From a couple of stops away I asked him about where we could meet.



I hate waiting for the bus. In the dark. Near people who like to catcall. I start to get uncomfortable and therefore impatient. Over the course of five minutes I make an empty threat to leave, and then explore the Paste function on my phone.



I discover that I can embellish the paste "Where are you?" with additional thoughts. Finally I appease myself with the idea that he is dead.



I remember that guys speak as plainly as possible, and decide to scroll up to the last thing he said, the last bit of information he communicated: "Will wait for you." I realize he must be waiting in the gym, and decide to walk down the road to pick him up. The road, which by the way, looks like this.


I made it down the poorly lit passage way unscathed (by the way, the best way to mug me is to dress as a vampire) and opened the gymnasium door to see my sweaty husband smiling as if I just popped in. While I was waiting for the bus under a street light, he had been away from his phone, playing one more round of basketball long after he told me he had finished.

The Married Life

My latest post on HipSlopeMama.Blogspot.com is called "The Question", about preparing newlyweds for correctly responding with just how fantastic Married Life is.

At first I thought the question was one of curiosity, filled with interest about my feelings on betrothal and how I was adjusting to the transition. I finally figured out the answer that everyone wants to hear...

Click here to read the whole post. And don't forget to leave some feedback there!

Photo credit:
www.dannyiskandarphotography.com

Who Watches Shows on a Sunday Night?

I am the new host of Sunday Soiree show at Botanica Bar. The show, founded by Josh Filipowski of Like2Laugh Productions, has a reputation for being quite intimate. It's in the back of a gritty SoHo bar, in a room furnished with worn, comfy couches and yard sale lamp fixtures that give it a cozy glow. The brick walls are brushed with gold paint, and the stage takes up a quarter of the room, so everyone has a great view.

It's one of the best places to hear NYC's hardest-working comics crank out their freshest ideas. Jay Welch explored our need for multigrain sushi while Jeff Kreisler shared a preview to his "Cheat to Get Rich" seminar he's taking to the Edinbrough Festival. Mo Diggs let us know his strong opinions about mayonnaise, and Erica Keats pondered the irony of obese people that wear Nike gear. Although not on the lineup, Trafton Crandall popped in and got to make use of some stage time as well. He said working on a new screenplay is like being a Polar explorer. Catch his act to understand why!

After the show, I saw Neil Charles outside and joined him in his walk to Sunday Night Stand-up at Three of Cups.



RG Daniels had a full room and they were loving his material. Michael Terry did a great job explaining that the Japanese have their own stereotypes about us. I only caught the tail end, but host Charlie Kasov did a smashing job from what I saw.

There is amazing live comedy every night of the week, and Monday is no exception! I look forward to seeing you at the Root Hill mic tonight! Last one of the summer until we start back up in September.

Root Hill Cafe
262 4th Ave (@ Carroll St)
Park Slope, BK 11215
Sign-up at 7:00PM, show's at 8:00PM
FREE

I Can Hardly Imagine What's Next

Last night was a fun show at a bar I've never been to, The Local 269.

The host was a lovely, voluptuous woman covered in tatoos I affectionately called Kat Von D. She introduced people by first stating their name and then following with their credits. Anyone who has ever seen a gameshow knows the name is the signal to applaud. The audience was poised to clap, but kept missing their cue, so a lot of us came up to silence, which cracked me up.

The crowd was huddled in shoulder to shoulder from wall to wall, all in support of the producer Darcy Burke who also took her turn at the mic and had a great set.

Sometimes a good crowd gets a little too involved. As I took the stage, I began, "I'm biracial..." and a woman in the front said, "Are you blewish?" I had never heard this term before, but I could only assume she was asking whether I was black and Jewish...or a smurf. I answered honestly that I was not, although back in college I was often confused with a girl who was. Then came the obvious void of laughter that occurs when you exchange real, non-humorous information with someone, so I looked away from her and addressed the crowd as a whole, "and now time for some jokes. If there's any time left." Got 'em back.

How engaged was this crowd? When Robin Cloud was mid set-up someone laughed and sighed, "Oh my God, I can hardly imagine what's next!"



Sad you missed it? Robin and I are going to kick it again at Comix (Ochi's Lounge) tonight!

Triple Minority Report
Comix Comedy Club
353 W. 14th Street
New York, NY 10014
7:30PM, FREE

Photo credit:
assets3.likeme.net

That's Me in the Corner

Back in 2006 I used to do silly things. Like get wacky haircuts or take before and after pictures of it and e-mail them to a nice Canadian woman who is launching a hair product business in Canada.

Three years later I am a Cover Girl on the Blended Beauty Website.




Flash forward to today, where I'm still putting weird stuff on my hair, but at least now I get paid for it.


Thanks to Chris of Cynical-C.com and comedian Les Degan for spotting me!

Boardgame Flashback: Pizza Party

I used to go over to my neighbor Josh's house to play Pizza Party. It's funny how kids can find common ground right away and get along with each other. It's like the slogan for the Push Pop sucker: "Don't push me; push a Push Pop". Why resort to violence when we can all agree that sugar is delicious, amigo?

Josh went on to harrass my sister and I with prank calls in middle school and became a sullen high schooler who pretended not to know us. He ignored cheerful hellos on the sidewalk even though he lived two houses down.

But before he was a unibomber, Josh was a silly kid who would let me share his green plastic G.I. Joes., his mother's small, round exercise trampoline, and his book-on-record of Br'er Rabbit. Watch out for that tar baby!

Then he presented this wonder of wonders: a board game shaped like a pizza! With pieces that look like ingredients! I don't remember really liking the game, but I always requested to play it because of the novelty of holding a fake pizza in my hands. Almost as good as the real thing!



Clearly the pepperoni and the mushroom want to date. The green pepper has her sights on the onion, but he's not interested. I never understood why the onion pizza slice had a blue handle, when the other slice handles corresponded perfectly to their respective ingredients. Who ever heard of a blue onion? I imagined a big assembly line of workers taking turns putting the game together. I figured the boardmakers at the end of the line were confused, because the illustrators at the front of the line forgot what an onion looked like and drew a Hershey's Kiss instead.

Leave Me Alone

In a CBS interview with Ed Bradley, Michael Jackson said if anyone wants to know the real him they need only listen to a song he wrote. I was on the edge of my seat. Finally some answers! Straight from the horse's mouth! Would it be "Man in the Mirror"? Or the less popular but just as moving "Earth Song"? Imagine my disappointment when he named one of my least favorites he has ever written: "Childhood"

The music video alone lights him with the eery glow of an alien from Cocoon. But he said the answers are there. So dissect I must:

Michael you seem to be distracted. Are you looking for something?

Have you seen my Childhood?

I, uh, yes I'm familiar with your popularity in the Jackson 5. Oh, is this a metaphorical question?

I'm searching for the world that I come from

You're from Gary, Indiana. A factory town. Everyone knows that.

'Cause I've been looking around
In the lost and found of my heart...

Okay, now I get it. You're longing for the childhood you didn't have because you were a superstar by age 12. So the Lost and Found is a place to reclaim things, and you can't reclaim your childhood. And you're looking in your heart. So your heart has a void. Do I understand you correctly?

No one understands me

You got that right. The affected voice, the image altering, the excessive spending, the baby-dangling...

They view it as such strange eccentricities...

the masks, the chimp, the Martin Bashir interview...

'Cause I keep kidding around

Is that what serving wine to children is called?

Like a child,

I never did that as a kid.

but pardon me...

By all means. I'll help you look. Hey, are these Edward Scissorhands Gloves?

People say I'm not okay
'Cause I love such elementary things...

I don't think we begrudged you your amusement park, but just the fact that you said it was okay to share your bed with children.

It's been my fate to compensate
For the Childhood
I've never known...

Compensating with slumber parties? So overnights with your peers was out of the question?

Have you seen my Childhood?

It's gone Michael. You have kids of your own now.

I'm searching for that wonder in my youth

Aren't we all?

Like pirates in adventurous dreams,
Of conquest and kings on the throne...

Sure, I have wished I were a pirate or a king. I escape through Disney movies. Then I pay my taxes.

Before you judge me, try hard to love me

Really, the love came before the judgment. But how well can any stranger really love or judge someone they don't have a real relationship with?

Look within your heart then ask

I shouldn't. My heart is black with anger and greed and jealousy--

Have you seen my Childhood?

Oh right, we're talking about you. Can I ask why you married Lisa Marie Presley?

People say I'm strange that way
'Cause I love such elementary things,
It's been my fate to compensate
For the Childhood I've never known...

You said that already. Now I feel like you're not even listening to me. Your eyes have glossed over, and your lawyer is telling me to leave.

Have you seen my Childhood?

I'm getting the feeling it all traces back to your childhood.

I'm searching for that wonder in my youth
Like fantastical stories to share
But the dreams I would dare...watch me fly...

That's nice. But you know you can't REALLY fly, right? Hello? I think you may have Peter Pan syndrome. Which really is quite weird.

Before you judge me

Okay, you're right, that was a value judgment.

try hard to love me

I can try to love. I love...Thriller. I'm sorry, I'm a fan, that's all I know.

The painful youth I've had

Wow, I think I'm starting to get it. I can't help but think of your father Joe, who made you address him as Joe, and your mother who stayed by his side after he cheated on her. The physical abuse during your formative years, and the rumors of other forms of abuse. Really, I am only piecing together what I've seen in made-for-TV movies and talk shows. But you could start fresh with your kids. Give them the care, attention, and boundaries you never had. Is there any reason you could not communicate with them in a healthy way? Speak to US in a normal way?

Have you SEEN my Childhood?

Right.