Interesting Query Mary...

The Queries keep on getting stranger. Here's what folks have Googled before they foolishly ended up on my website:

1.multi-ethnic avatar maker

(Second Life pervert alert!)

2.curly bob stack haircut

(Forget my blog. This is what happens when you go straight to Google Images. Don't ever do this to your hair, people. Don't let history repeat itself.)



(PS: Is anyone else disappointed that pictures of Robert Stack don't show up?)

3.bayer commercial ballerina

(For the last time, I was NOT in the Bayer commercial! I stopped believing in it when Robert Eurich died. Off the record, I'd hire Spenser any time.)

3.march comedy madness competition at caroline's on broadway

(You're not supposed to use prepositions in a search engine, but I admire this person's dedication to specifics! And I lost that competition two rounds in. Thanks for the reminder.)

4.bust magazine widgets AND widgets cauvin

(These both crack me up because I have never used the word widget in my work EVER. Although I did watch the cartoon growing up.)


5. what color eyes did mary pickford have?

(Mary Pickford was the first woman of the silver screen. She used to share dirt sandwiches with Charlie Chaplin and travel in roaming theater troupes alongside William Shakespere. Why anyone needs her eye color is either a weird, grave-robbing DNA experiment or the world's most moronic bet. The answer is RED. She was albino.)

7. abbi crutchfield

(Pass go! Collect 200 dollars!)

8. how to make grotten potatoes.

(You're a moron. Here's my French dictionary. Try not to hit yourself with it.)

Send In Your Art! No. 4

Special thanks to Brian in New York for his rendition of me inside a Batman frame! I like the heart over the "i", which is the correct punctuation. There's also an umlaut and an accent circonflexe to my first name, but what is this, an MLA Handbook? Ha ha!

You were right to say, "What's an MLA Handbook?".

mcMüller said:
Regarding the portrait contest: Are you going to draw everyone who draws a picture of you, or are you going to paint a portrait of the contest winner? (Or both?)

I love Angela Lansbury. She is very sexy in The Manchurian Candidate.

Dear McMilton Bradley,
She writes about murders that actually happen. And they all seem to happen around HER...on a weekly basis...I think you'd better keep your distance.

To answer your question, that's a GREAT idea! I could draw and paint EVERYONE WHO PARTICIPATES! Let's change the rules, since rules were made to be bent a little sometimes when your boss isn't looking. Each person who submits a picture gets a caricature drawing. But the person who submits the best drawing/painting/sock puppet of me wins an official acrylic portrait of him/herself. "Best" being decided by my ego, and people will be judged by creativity, skill, lack of knowing who I am, and willingness to tell people about my blog once I've selected them.

DEADLINE IS AUGUST 1, 2007


FLASHBACK!

When I was little, I would enforce art contests with my friends who came over. We'd both draw a bunny or haunted house or beach scene. Then I would take both to my mom and ask her whose was the best. I'd make sure my friend was there so she'd know straight up, and never touch my markers again. To my utter embarrassment, Mom would always say, "I don't know...wow...I guess I like them both the same!" GRRRRR! No! They're NOT the same! People don't have cat noses! She gave hers a cat nose!

Anyway, seeing as how I shook the brat phase a year (or five hours) ago, I'm guessing I'll probably give everyone some kind of award for participating.

Interview with a Glampire

The Today Show recently did a special on older women reclaiming their beauty. Grandmas are now calling themselves GLAM-mas! Hey HEY hey! To re-cap: 60 is the new 40, Metamucil is the new Pinot, and death is the new reason for lying to yourself.

Far be it from me to criticize a woman’s choice to look young. I used to say I’d never pluck a gray hair, but that’s before I found out they stick out like a pube in a butter dish (I just compared one type of follicle to another. Can someone lend me a book of metaphors?) And just like an off-key soloist at a nice wedding, you wish they weren’t there (seriously, the book. Help a sister out). But ladies and gentlemen, it always looks better to be older when you embrace it. Just ask anyone who’s ever thrown up to a recent picture of Bruce Jenner.

As with most of the world’s problems, I blame Hollywood. When I was growing up, older women were given their dues. You couldn’t find a whimsical crime drama without a woman in her 50s playing the jaded millionaire’s wife. She came complete with silver coiffe, pants that rested above the belly button and crow’s feet for miles. Conversely, actresses well into their 20s were donning pig tails, painted-on freckles and the occasional long night gown with ruffled collar. Saying things like, “Gee willikers” and asking for a glass of milk.

Flash forward to today where the virus is spreading into comedy. I have to watch women in their 30s don ringer tees and baseball shirts, and women in their 40s brag about dating people half their age. Be old and be comfortable. While Cook and Silverman bring sexy to a genre that never required it, I’m going to work on being funny (this is all tongue-in-cheek as if comedians had a say in how they market themselves).

I say, put your large panties back on and make me some cookies! And then tell me more on this alpha hydroxy complex I keep hearing about…

Let 'Em Eat Fake

Just a brief word on a delectable product mistakenly named Special K cereal bars Strawberry. There is a picture of strawberries on the box. The bar smells like sweet strawberries. The product even has red specks in it. But at a second glance, the pieces are darker and chewier than your average dried strawberry. Why…they seem more like Craisins. I turn over the wrapper to investigate. Lo! The ingredients listed:

STRAWBERRY FLAVORED FRUIT PIECES (SUGAR, CRANBERRIES, CITRIC ACID, NATURAL STRAWBERRY FLAVOR WITH OTHER NATURAL FLAVORS, ELDERBERRY JUICE CONCENTRATE FOR COLOR, SUNFLOWER OIL)

What is this? WWII? Give me my real strawberries! Sugar them, bake them to a crisp, then put the candy into an overly sweet cookie and call it health food! Don’t lie to me about the ingredients. Just lie to me about what they’ll do for my body!

Wonder what the blueberry bars are made of…

School of Hard Looks

Hello class. I've been in this business longer than anyone. I once showed a young Clara Bow what's what on a pile of celluloid. I changed Bob Hope's diapers, you understand? So you think you're a tough guy, huh? There's a look you'd better master first. It's called the Squint. It used to be called the Squeeze, but I did it best, so they named it for me. Watch and learn, Daisies:

All right kids, let's see what you've got.

No, Pierce. Try to focus. We can tell you're thinking about the craft services table.

How about you Michael?

Well...yes. But you can't hide under those brows all your life. I'm going to need to see more glare to counteract that danged haircut of yours. I understand you'll be wearing black in your film, which will help considerably.

Class, please look to my assistant Jack.

Note how menacing he is. You figure out how to do that while smiling, and you can quote Dirty Harry any time you like.
What's this?

I'm sorry young man. Commercial auditions are down the hall.

You're a bold little punk, aren't you? Look, you don't have what it takes, so beat it before I embarrass you!

All right, you've got guts. Go in the corner and stare at the light until something develops.

Charles, my prize student. What do you have for us?

Dandy.

And now for you, B.W.

Uh oh. Looks like Bruce is giving you a run for your money Chuck. Nice use of cigarette...good facial hair.

Oh come on now, Chuck. Everyone knows you can do it without the moustache. No one likes a show-off.
-BEEP! BEEP!- It's time for my nap, so we'll call it a day. Nice work fellas. Next week the gravel voice. Guest speaker is Bill Pullman. Now get outta here.

Better in Flashbacks

My wallet was lost or stolen last night. My own explanation of what happened is too boring, so here’s a re-enactment starring Halle Berry:

HB: I had to grab a bite to eat before the show, so I went into a dive. One of those wait-at-the-counter-and-take-it-out-of-here places. Like a Chinese food restaurant, only with tacos. But still with Chinese people. I reached into my jacket pocket, handed the card over, took the card back, and put it in the wallet.

Vince Vaughn as a cop: But did you put the wallet back in your pocket?

HB: I don’t know. Probably. Then I left to wait in line for the show around the corner. It was cold, and I wanted a candy bar, so I started to walk to a drug store.

VV: Sweets for a sweet.

HB: (Bashful chuckle). But I turned back when I saw the line moving. So maybe on the way to the drug store I started to get my wallet out. If it went into my pocket…

VV: You could have left the pocket unzipped…

Together: and it could have fallen out!

(make out scene)

In real life I’ll check the trash cans near by.

Dis-TURD-bia

Someone just sent me an article citing actor Shia LeBoeuf as "The next Tom Hanks".

As hard as it is to appreciate someone whose name is Luh Boof, let us give this prediction some consideration. After all, it was made by noneother than Stephen "Cinematic Oracle" Spielberg.

Shia's latest film is called Disturbia. I can’t think of how this title will make sense as a working word in the script. Maybe it's the town they live in (an uncreative play on Suburbia). Perhaps it's the killer’s vanity license plate...or a disease that I contract while watching the film.

Everyone's calling it a modern-day Rear Window, and I say that gives it way too much credit. At best, it is a modern-day scene from Home Alone. And the suspect in this year's movie doesn't even have a creepy beard.

Technically, the next Tom Hanks is Colin Hanks— his less charismatic son whose recognizable face passes for screen presence. They are nothing alike. The apple does not fall close to the tree here, but we won't admit it because of our willingness to keep the dream alive (the dream that almost died when Kate Hudson opted not to re-make Private Benjamin).

So if Shia is the next Tom Hanks, let's examine his predecessor's hold on us. We didn't know we needed Tom Hanks until the 1980s (Big), and then soon after we questioned our decision (Turner and Hooch), but we happily embraced him in the 1990s (Gump), and now we tolerate his fart jokes in the years after (DaVinci Code, Ladykillers, Airport Movie with inexplicable casting of Zeta Jones). He may do the backstroke in a vault filled with cash, but his only hope for another cinematic triumph is to play a SUPPORTING role as the sweet, befuddled grandpa to Shia LeBoeuf’s rugged albeit bookish janitor in a coming-of-age-meets-wrong-side-of-the-tracks love story (vehicle for Scarlett Johansson).

The Next Tom Hanks is the only thing that can save the Real Tom Hanks in a Back to the Future-esque predicament. Life imitates art.

The Anatomy of a Song

I have a secret longing to rap. Not to have my song played on the radio or to fund a clothing line or to ironically get shot two days before I would have died of a heart attack.

Just to rap.

I finally decided I would give it a try. But what would I talk about? Novelists are advised to "write what they know", but does this apply to song? Because it took thirty years for anyone in the rap game to come forward with "Chicken Noodle Soup", and we've all known about that for years.

Is it about what the listener wants? That can't possibly be the case, because every time I hear "lovely lady lumps" I remove my headphones. Then I go get a mammogram.

I suspected a good rap song, like comedy, is about what matters to ME. I thought about starting with what it's like to be biracial. I am both black and white. Split down the middle. As if I had two different color eyes. YES! That's it! Suddenly a rhythm was developing. Should I be beatboxing in a grocery store? I started scowling and swooping from side to side. An enthusiastic man's voice echoed in my head: "This is the reallest, illest shichoo ever heard!" Then a distinct stream of dialogue came. The tone was angry and honest. It painted a picture. I put it to paper:

People always judge. You know how it goes...
I keep my BROWN eye open and my BLUE eye closed.

I couldn't wait to share this--this BIRTH of RAP--with my best friend, so I called him immediately. He paused after he heard it.

"What do you think??" I eagerly asked.

--You know that "brown eye" is another term for anus, right?

I would have been PERFECT for the White Rapper Show.

"Taps" on Ukelele

The Original Nappy-headed Hos

There's Always Room for Gimmick

From the minds of masochists, here comes a fun product. Giving new meaning to "instant" we now have JELL-O lip gloss by Lipsmacker. As the website states: “Clear and refreshing, it looks and tastes just like JELL-O!” I endorse this product, because I use this product. I use this product because the little kid in me loves this kind of crap. If only the adult in me would stop letting the little kid spend my money.

Maybe, Dr. Lipsmacker of Bonne Bell Industries, we shouldn't be bragging about how it tastes if it's not actually an edible product. That might confuse dieters. As for looks, although it is translucent, it stubbornly holds a non-jiggly, solid shape. Especially when you twist it out of its container. Might want to change that slogan to, "Real glue-stick quality!" but, you know, make it catchier and more appetizing.

It definitely smells like you have a spoonful of JELL-O right under your nose, but that gets weird after a while. No one smells the dessert they're eating longer than 2.5 seconds in a sitting. Maybe I should be worried that it's this simple to duplicate a product that tricks my senses. All of our food could easily be made of wax, and we wouldn't know it until our skin started sweating paraffin.

And how about the moisturization factor? If you're fool enough to buy something just because it has JELL-O on the package, you're not interested in things like quality. If you want vitamins and aloe, next time make sure the tube is brown with a light green array of leaves and insects encircling it. Bottom line: it feels like you smeared honey on your lips.

So clearly it was a mistake to buy this and I should probably just throw it awa--HEY! Did you know they also make one that tastes like MnMs??!?

We the You People

The radio jock so shocking I’ve never heard of him, Don Imus, is in hot water because he referred to members of the Rutgers women’s basketball team as “nappy-headed hos”. He tried to plead his case on Al Sharpton’s radio show and dug the hole deeper when he said, “I can’t get anywhere with you people”. NO! Not You People! Even Michael Richards knows not to say You People.

I have never said You People in my life. Partly because it’s redundant, but also because I know it’s one of the dumbest ways to refer to a group you’re mad at. HO HUM Mr. Imus. Is that the best you can do?

Now if he had said You Blacks, well that would change things. I only like to be marginalized with other blacks during My History Month or Chocolate Night at my local Comedy Club. You Blow-hards would have been more accurate and funny, because political pundits need to be put in their place. You Maggots—that would have been dastardly macabre. You Wascally Wabbits—diluted but heartfelt. In short, You People is tired, racists. Get creative.

Let’s back it up to the first insult. Even white women can have nappy hair after a long, sweaty game. The real problem with the Rutgers comment is that he calls them hos. Did that ever come up on MISTER Sharpton’s show? Doubt it. All you Rutgers women’s b-ball fans, we need to unite and take a stand! Let’s quit putting women down, guys! What do you say? Guys?… Hey…where are all the guys?

Thank Bob You're Here

I am referring to the studio audience that was directly plucked from an episode of America’s Funniest Home Videos and asked to watch a new improv show called, “Thank God You’re Here…”. In three parts I’ll tell you why this show won’t make it to warmer weather.

RULES OF ENSLAVEMENT
First of all, you should never televise improv. If you do, you should never expect it to fit within the parameters of real television. Network executives must resist the urge to edit. No canned laughter, no huge chunks missing (someone’s hat is in his hands then back on his head again in half a second), and no quick cuts away from someone clearly stumped to say something funny. And that brings up another point. No trying to say something funny!

VIDEO KILLED THE BACKGROUND STAR
Television viewers at home watch what the camera angle tells them to watch. They can only laugh at what is given to them. Improv crowds get to look at the multitude of things going on. If one audience member is looking at a lady playing a rebellious teen, his friend nudges him to look at her father who is yawning, and both viewers laugh at the realization.

NOUN IS THE ONLY THING THAT VERBS AROUND HERE
I am a student of the Upright Citizen’s Brigade Theater, and so I was not taught any of the games that you see on Whose Line Is It Anyway? I would love to see Whose Line…? try a Harold because I’m sure all the players know how to do one. But they won’t because the show gives people an improv they can stomach; it’s served in small doses. A longer version of improvisational comedy involves scenes in which the games are not defined but discovered. The problem with TGYH was that it had neither. It had improv players carrying the scene as if they were scripted and gesturing to the “surprised” celebrity guests when it was their turn to talk.
Planted player: “Everyone say their name now. I am Sir Galahad of The Prosperous Rounds, and you…?”
Mo’nique: I…am the QUEEN OF SHEBA! (Laugh track from ALF fades in, cut to Dave Foley smiling…/wincing?)
It was like watching Mad Libs without the Wacky.

This new show could take a cue from SNL and get more clever sponsorhip.

“Tonight’s episode is brought to you buy Budweiser Select. Thank God there’s Beer.”

Map Quest

You say you finally caught National Treasure, and you just can’t get enough of that edge-of-your-seat Temple of Doom action and head-scratching Last Crusade cryptology? Well hang on to your wig Nicolas Cage, because here is a map to my website that will unlock the key to my previous blog posts!

Labels. What are they for? Organization. Here’s what each one means.

2007 Portrait Contest – Updates on the status of the competition. Good things take time.
Celebrities – Whenever I mention someone famous. Like Roger E. Mosley.
Celebrity Sightings – Whenever I’ve actually interacted with someone famous.
Competitions – Real shows in which I’ve (eating marshmallows) “been a contendah”.
Confessions – I finally come clean about something. Matt McCarthy should be proud.
Cubicle Secrets – Issues in my office coming to you live from cubicle 975.
Curl Biz – Anything about being biracial or black or having curly hair.
Flop Sweat – Any time I've failed on stage. But lived. And learned. And loved.
Gigs – Pertains to a recent performance. In case you missed it. But why would you?
Grrl Power – Resurrecting the Spice Girls slogan for stories of empowerment. Zigazigah.
Holidays – I celebrate them by writing about them.
Ideas – I am brilliant. Read these.
Living Room Slideshows – Photo fun after it’s been showcased live at my show.
Love – Ah l’amour. C’est pour les chanceux…et les maudits.
Memory Lane – I’m taking you back. Way back. To the nineties. Squeezit!
Miseducation – I’m wrong a lot. And other people are too.
My Beef – This is what sticks in my craw.
News – I pretend to read the news by glancing at it then writing from vague memory.
Parody – Imitation is the best form of comedy.
Press – Someone decided to write me up in a paper or a blog! Drinks on me!
Racism – It’s out there. Let’s talk about it. We’ll start with how you’re racist.
Slepton.com – A website my friends intend to use to change the world!
Sports – When you can’t play ‘em, talk about ‘em. Right Marino?
Television – I watched it so you don’t have to.
Zoltar – I can see into the future. Just like that machine on Big.

Now navigate away, Mom!

These Salad Days are Yours and Mine

My niece turned 30 this past weekend. She looked great! She was dancing and twirling in her beautiful blue-gray, spaghetti-strapped, BCBG dress. People around her were laughing and dining on catered crab cakes, baked ravioli, and stuffed mushrooms all while sipping pomegranate martinis. A beautiful, white, sheet cake sat nearby on a table but served as a decoy for the REAL cake that had yet to make an entrance—a fluffy, light-as-a-cloud, cream-filled confection adorned with a colorful array of plump, glazed, fresh fruit that quivered with anticipation!

Prediction: on my thirtieth birthday I will be eating a fried fish sandwich in the parking lot of a Kittle’s next to the motel where I’m staying courtesy of Goofaw’s Chuckle Room.

Check The Stats

Thanks to Statcounter.com, I can check all sorts of cool things about this blog. One of my favorite things to look at is Keyword Activity. This is what people put in a search engine (usually Google) before they come up with my website. Let's review the recent searches, shall we?

1. aileen quinn photos recent

She wins the J.D. Salinger recluse award, because I get this a lot. Where are you, Ms. Quinn? We promise we only want to make you sing songs from the hit movie you were in twenty-five years ago. She's probably opened up a gourmet hot dog shop in Brooklyn and spends her days counting the register. As long as she stays hidden people still end up here, and that's okay by me.

2. cupcakes

Have I ever written about these in my life? Maybe in one post. Hard to believe nobody else has covered this topic. Like maybe Sugar Sweet Sunshine Bakery, Buttercup Bake Shop or Andy Samberg fans in their blogs.

3. can you get bad posture because of holding your pencil the wrong way?

I don't have an archive for myths propogated by 1st grade teachers, so I'll answer this directly: No, but you can get the seat wet. Badum-bum. FOCUS!

4. 12:34 wish superstition

"Superstition"? Try "instruction manual" my friend.

5. abbi crutchfield

YESSSSS!

6. placenta recipe

I'm so sorry I ever brought this up. Uh oh, wave of nausea coming. Think of something plain. Something pure. MTV. My Super Sweet Sixteen. Birthdays? Birth! Blaaah!

7. chris serico

Nice, funny and talented guy in an outstanding a capella group called Unsung Heroes. Go see them perform! Stop Googling yourself, Chris.

8. comedy monologues for kids 11 and older

This is my favorite. Because this is exactly the genre I want to belong to. Hey dorks! Glad you came back or whatever. Before we talk about how tardo our moms are, I have to say that the reason Katie left school is because she got pregnant from three different guys and had like seven abortions. Pass it on. Isn't Andy Samberg hot??? I had a dream I kissed him. J/K!!! OMG. I'm so fat. I had four french fries. The big ones, guys!!! Tomorrow is Diet Coke day. And if anyone asks if me and Katie are still friends they are gay. PS: U r gay. LOLOLOLOL.

This Just In: Dogs Are Not People

Alternative title: You're the Man Now, Dawg!


Photo by Ted S. Warren, Associated Press

In a recent article, the concept of doggie yoga was explored. Here is an unpublished excerpt:

We asked participants what they loved best about the class, and the response was unanimous: dogs are finally being respected for the people they are. "Some day we'll stop classifying our dogs as belonging to a different species, genus, and family, and eradicate the order carnivora (because Baron Von Pugglesworth is vegetarian), and we'll start recognizing that we are all united...mainly by our common love for long bike rides and day time talk shows".

It blows my mind that this place exists. More specifically, it blows my mind that bills are paid to light the room in which people spend quality time with their pets. Wait, I'm having a breakthrough: you can spend quality time outside...in a place called a park. And there's light there too...from the sun...and it's free!

First of all, stop it. I saw a guy on the street pull his lab out of my way by calling her Melissa. Don't do that. Don't give your dog a human name. Pet names are puns so you can remember who's boss. Melissa is only okay if you have another dog named Etheridge. You follow? "Edward, are you going to help me with my taxes, or are you going to chase your tail all day? Louis! Talk some sense into your brother!"

So for doggy yoga, people actually sit down to achieve enlightenment with an animal that has a brain the size of a tennis ball. What's worse, people teach their dogs how to be still by repositioning them over and over. I imagine this class is for trained or grotesquely overweight dogs, because trying to get one still without using treats is the opposite of relaxation.

But practicality aside, what is this saying about our state of mind? We are so lonely and simultaenously lazy as a culture we will now force relationships with others using our dogs as props. I hope all you plan on meeting is other infertile couples.

Score one for terrorism. Not only do Americans have a lot of money, but they have SO much money, they don't know what to do with it! If you need help spending it, give it to me.

My cat needs braces.

Don't Tip Chad Thursday

I think that if you eat in a restaurant this Thursday, and your waiter's name is Chad, you should give him a life lesson that's a long time coming. He's a waiter because he is a struggling actor. Maybe people named Chad should aspire to something a little more meaningful. Dream bigger! If we all refrain from tipping on Thursday, he'll get angry. Maybe his feelings will be hurt. Maybe he doesn't need this stinkin' O'Charley's after all! Perhaps he SHOULD consider going to school with the rest of his nineteen year old peers. He was always good at math. A career in accounting could be both lucrative and provide stability. Maybe a graduate degree in economics where he'll meet Sarah, who he'll come to learn had her own horror stories from Hooters. But she always had a dream. Instead of saving up for implants, she was going to save up for college. And here she is. They scoff jointly at the countless pick-up lines they endured and vow to leave it all behind by building an empire, giving the proceeds to charity and putting their daughter Jolie Luther King through a private education.

Don't tip Sarahs on Friday! Who's with me?

Men In Comedy: Stand Up and Be Heard!

I love hearing about how men are doing in the comedy business. But I wish they weren't so marginalized. I mean, it's so rare to see a show actually featuring a dude without it being clogged up by the masses of women, children and monkies who are just handed stage time. I hate how whenever I want to hear about a specific male comic it's always in some MEN-comedy related article. HELLO! Men are people, just like women. What's with the classification? It's always just understood that when you say "comedy" you mean women, but for guys you have to clarify.

But let's be honest gentlemen, inherently you aren't that funny. Your natural inclination is to speak about topics noone cares to hear. Boys, if you want to get noticed a little more, why don't you try being VULGAR for once? Simulate getting it on or something. Use the microphone as a prop even! Surely, you can think of a body part that it symbolizes? I can. But that's because I'm a woman. No one has more insight into this situation than fellow comedian (and I do mean fellow) Carolyn Castiglia in her post.