Countdown: No More Days (Lift-off!)

Getting married tomorrow. Thanks for reading my blog while I'm away. I'll try not to entertain you while on my honeymoon although I hear one of the nightly performance offerings is a Michael Jackson impersonator. It will be difficult not to fill you in on what I am sure will be countless tales of run-ins with lizards, insects, rude European tourists and sequined gloves (caught by me). How about this? I will take a picture of everything that conforms to the list of predictions below and post them subsequently. Let's see how well I do:
1. A picture of me with paper umbrellas up my nose
2. A scorpion insolently burrowing a hole within six feet of me.
3. A misspelled sign that becomes a running gag
4. A bald little person dating a model
5. A celebrity sighting (level of Extra anchor or below)
6. A monkey in a bellhop suit

In the mean time, thanks for the kind words you've left in my online wedding guest book and your patience as I restock Michelle Obama's wardrobe with spring colors.

Countdown: Four Days (Exit, Stage Left)

Luke and I went to the theater where our ceremony will be performed, to get an idea of how the rehearsal should go on Friday. We are keeping the scenery belonging to the show running that night, which is an old-fashioned home featuring props like a rotary phone.

So my dream of getting married in the house I grew up in is coming true.

Logistics to consider when you get married in a theater:
Does the bride swoop in on wires or rise from an opening in the ground?
Is the officiate allergic to fog machines?
Will the ring bearer upstage the flower girl with his more authentic cockney accent?

With a poster for guests to sign and programs designed as playbills we're sure to have a smash hit. I know it's tradition to throw rice at the new couple, but (some joke about rotten tomatoes seems fitting right about now. I'm tired).

Countdown: Five Days (Hair Apparent)

Today I was scheduled to get waxed before I frolic on the beaches of the Dominican Republic during my honeymoon. Did you know some Indiana salon-spas are located in the same building as a furniture store? This gave my chauffeur mother plenty to do while I made wincing small talk with the ceiling. Mom examined an end table while I gripped the sides of a torture table. The specialist Natalie asked if I minded having my toes done along with my legs, free of charge. "To me it's like leaving a tooth unbrushed," she confided. I guess I've had pedi-gingivitis my whole life.

Later on, while shopping for attendant gifts in a mall, my mother stopped in front of a store window and said, "It's you!" She often does this for an Old Navy or JC Penney poster or any ad with a young African-American woman holding a beach ball. This time it was for a lanky white woman with a blonde aftro wig. Nothing like having a stranger point out toe-hair and your mother compare you to an albino to prepare you for being on display.

Countdown: Six Days (80s to the Max)

Landed in Indiana yesterday and now need to do the last-minute planning. Hobby Lobby was closed on Sunday because their staff needs to spend time with their family and worship, according to the sign in the window. Next option, the heathens at Party Supplies Plus.

Our eyes wandered away from the wedding section and over to the costumes...


A $12 hairstyle for me...



A new look for Luke. Because unlike the Jheri curl, "The Wet Look" is for people of all races.



It's a pimp-on-a-stick. Why settle for an ordinary cane when you can have this "Pimp Stick", featuring an actual statue on the end of a plastic wand. One thing, your pimp looks like George Clinton. Funkadelic!



Be an Old School Rapper. You know old school rap, right? Founded by the Verizon Guy. It's too bad he gave up the chain and cardboard hat, but at least he kept the glasses.



This Jack Bauer costume seems normal at first, but if you zoom in on the image you start wondering which episode features him with bullet wounds to the FACE.


I don't know how any of this will be handy in the wedding, but according to the comedians at my bridal shower roast, it is likely that all of these will get used on the honeymoon. 80s to the MaXX!

Countdown: Eight Days (Interracial Cake Topper)

With cake toppers going from $25 to $200, I opted to spend $4 on polymer clay and make them myself. Fortunately, caricature sculptures in people's likeness are a new trend. Unfortunately, I only have a few days left to finish sculpting and baking it.

Even though right now it looks like this...


Pretty soon it will look like this!



Or this:




And before you tell me to save time by buying a Nigerian Barbie and a Gargamel figurine, I will point out that these are near impossible to obtain collector's items on eBay. Yes I AM sorry I lost both of them 15 years ago.

Whether you decide to go with traditional or unconventional presentation, there is a right way to do it



And a wrong way.



Before now I have never shouted at an inanimate object to get a room.

Countdown: Nine Days (Movin' Out)

All of the free, non-matching furniture I worked to collect from the streets through the years is being returned to the wild. And when I say, "collect from the streets," I should point out this was back when "bed bugs" were a fictional part of a good night rhyme told to children, and before I knew they are an actual nuisance that is impossible to kill.

And when I say, "impossible," I am of course failing to mention the common, most humane method of destroying pests: turn PBS on and let them die of boredom.


So farewell giant square-shaped table that needed refinishing. I'll miss the way you used to hide my gas bills under placemats


Farewell hot pink futon that was often covered with a leaning tower of wigs. You weren't free, but the demonstration from the Russian salesman who jumped on you to show durability was worth every penny.


So long wood-framed loveseat with light-weight cushions made of upholstery-covered foam. The kind of foam used to insulate electronics. I liked you the most because you made it look like people could sleep on you, but in order to fit end-to-end they had to tuck their knees into their chest. And then minutes later they would fall off.

Countdown: Ten Days (Kissin' Cousins)

Had to take a premarital blood test as per Indiana law, presumably to prove that Luke and I are not related. But oddly enough, he is not required to take one, which tells me one of three things:

- You only have to prove that ONE spouse is not inbred.
- You need DNA evidence that the wife is not a farm animal.
- If you can draw blood from the wife, then she is not a witch.

Ask Abbi: Squeeze the Charmin?

Adria of Impact-DC.com writes:

What kind of toilet paper do you prefer and what kind do you purchase?

Thanks for voyaging beyond the realm of comedy-specific questions! Just like Madonna when it comes to children, what I prefer is not always what I purchase.

I PREFER the kind of soft toilet paper that comes in rolls of 24. The kind of 3-ply, quilted abundance that scoffs at rainforest activists. The kind I can hug in Target to restore tranquility when it's whoopin' time in the cereal aisle. The kind sold by cartoon bears.

By the way, that commercial always reminds me of this popular street joke:
A bear and a rabbit are going to the bathroom in the woods. The bear says to the rabbit, "Do you ever have a problem with poop sticking to your fur?" The rabbit smugly replies, "Certainly not!" So the bear wipes his butt with the rabbit.

I purchase Angel Soft because it is always on sale wherever I go. In these tough economic times, it is the prudent choice. It is also a step above the kind you find in corporations, which is essentially tracing paper. It breaks apart in your hands so you never get more than one square at a time. You end up fishing inside the plastic receptacal and turning the wheel over and over, endlessly searching for the new, unperforated sheet. Sweat beads form on your head while you gingerly prod as if you're delivering a giraffe. No thank you. I have my standards. Especially since they're impossible to steal.

Feel free to post your questions for Abbi in the comments section, to be answered in a later post, or write curlycomedy (at) yahoo.com with "Ask Abbi" in the Subject.

April Fool's Show

Here I am at Lounge T.B.D. on April 1st, standing in front of a colorful sculpture of mop handles, which inspired this ad-lib:

"This place is great. It is the actual apartment from Big. Around the corner are the bunk beds and the trampoline. Here's the oversized pick-up sticks that Josh brings home from Macmillan Toys."

I have no idea which joke I tell that involves my hand in the air and me smiling. Oh wait, yes I do: all of them.

The show was fun, with a group of bachelors standing in the back staring longingly at some women who hogged the barstools the whole night. I don't know if they wanted action or just a seat. Greg Collett put the show together, which will hopefully be one of many. I could tell the area was safe because there was a white woman jogging after 9:00PM. Unless it was a solo Take Back the Night rally.

Blackface the Facts

When is it okay to wear blackface? Some might say, "Never". Those people are Reverend Al Sharpton. Blackface the facts, people. It is acceptable for people to impersonate black people. Specifically in these scenarios:



When you're already black.



When the woman cast as your African-American leading lady is the daughter of Tommy Chong, making her black, white, Asian and therefore, better at this than you are.



When drug abuse goes from being subconsciously linked to the culture to outwardly synonymous with your name.



When you remain completely unaware of how black people perceive you. Like even 20 years later when you rip off Chris Rock in a comedy club.



When you want your adopted African daughter to bond with you.

Moving to L.A. for New Tyler Perry Pilot!!

April Fool's Baby.