Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Where the Funke have you been?

I know, I know,
I don't know you enough to call you,
but least I could do is write.

So where have I been?
  • Not home cleaning I can tell you that as I look around the apartment at all the security I have built in.
  • I've been doing a bunch of stand up.
  • I went to visit my sister in Virgina. My sister's 9 hours away by car, I drove back and forth with my mother and found that either I'm not the road warrior I used to be or driving with my mother can make me tense, I think it might be a little of both.
  • I've been trying to figure out simple math*

*insert picture of me crying here.

I swear I'll have something interesting to say...
oh, wait,

TV has been pretty good to me this season.

Season finales were never so consistently produced to round out a season.

For example, Grey's Anatomy - first season it was like Melrose Place meets hospital with all the love affairs and non-stop romantic drama.
Second season was a nice culmination of the results of the bad deeds going punished.
From the two hour season opener to the two hour season finale I actually cared about these characters. There are believeable love stories on this show and some good medical drama stuff thrown in to boot.

But if you want medical drama, go see House, M.D. - did they lose the M.D. or am I the only one hanging onto that?
Well, anyway except for the annoying side story about Cameron being in love with House, this show is all about the facts, and the bitter doctor that doles them, and to say it is well done is an understated.
It's medically fascinating, bittingly witty, and the filming in the season finale was phenominal. If you haven't watched this show I recently found out they replay them on USA Networks from my mom and step father who enjoy shows in syndication rather then primetime.

My favorite season finale though, had to be LOST.
It was overwhelming with answers, but extremely well shot, and gave you enough questions to feel satisfied about the season and excited for next season.
They also aren't completely leaving us crazed fans high and dry. There's actually an interactive "game" online all summer long.**

So that's something to look forward to while I DVR repeats of shows I've neglected through out the season.

I think the best show I'm not watching enough of is "Everybody Hates Chris". If you think the family sitcom is dead, you'll be surprised to know that Chris Rock saved it. I have yet to watch an episode and not laugh. It's a clever take on the Wonder Years Formula, but it's set in Bed Stuy in the early 80's.

Well, I should sign off now, Rescue Me just started. I have only seen last season, but I think this show is off the beaten path (in that kid-who-was-wearing-all-black-and-kinda-weird-in-the- Ally-Sheedy-Breakfast-Club-way-that-is-funny-and-cool-once-you-give-'em-a-chance) with it's dark humor and the topics it covers. The direction of each episode differs but Leary and his buddy Peter Tolan write the majority of it and some episodes directed so vividly with bold color and creative framing that it is amazing that it is a show about firefighters and not a piece of art film. I am also a sucker for Dennis Leary.
This new season kind of worries me though, I feel as though it's going to be very predictible : Tommy's marriage finally disolves, his Dad has to die, the guy who was wronged by the whore is going to go down the tubes, and I'm thinking Tommy's brother is going to cross him.
But they are pretty good at pulling out some random story lines, so let's hope for that. If it doesn't work out I might actually have to start reading again.

**Can you imagine back if Dallas had an interactive Who Shot JR game? I wonder if they'd have a little rifle range where you could try to shoot him too...

Friday, May 12, 2006

"There's a skinny girl inside me crying to get out...

but I can usually silence the bitch with some thin mints"
~Cara Amore

Saying that I have weight issues is to say that I'm female in today's society.
We all think we're fugly fatties because we have fat on our bodies, it's pretty insane.

I'm what you call a "yo-yoer" my weight fluxuates. The majority of my life I'd say I was chubby, I've carried the belly around, it's been with me when I was thin to when I was a great big fat person

The weird thing about the up and down was, when I was 280lbs., I felt awesome.
I knew I wasn't perfect, but I totally cherished the fact that I was this buxom girl, it fit my laugh, and my love of food, and I wore the nicest clothes of my life.

When I was the slimest I ever was, 125lbs.* , I was going through the worst, most tramatic time in my life. I looked amazing though but I felt like I had no strength to chew I was so miserable.

So now I'm in the middle, of those weights, and I'm just, blah.

Due to the pressure of hot, sexy, anorexic society I feel as though I'm rounder, flubbier, down right tubby sometimes.

But then I think, hey, at least I'm not a hundred pounds heavier.
and also, I'm not that big.

Really, when it comes down to it medically speaking, I am overweight though.

And it's really no surprise, my daily diet consists of take out breakfast, take out lunch and usually a delivery dinner. Everything smothered with cheese, greasey, loaded up with all wasteless food particles completely void of nutrition.

So friends, when I say I'm trying to eat better, or not eat as much shit, and I throw in the "because I'm fat"
please don't tell me I'm not by grabbing your own fat.
Many, many, fuck it, COUNTLESS women have done this to me,
and I'd say 85% of them are in clothing sizes in the very low single digits,
they are grabbing at skin, not fat, and exercise regularly at a gym.

I'm a stand up comedian with a very busy day job, my exercise is running from the office to a club, then back to my apartment. I try to eat healthy but it's like the Gods are against it. People are giving me free drinks and pizza and cake - and who am I to look ungrateful?
So, I stuff my face, and vow:
tomorrow I will eat more veggies.
tomorrow I will add more fiber to my diet
tomorrow I will not have things smothered with cheese, grease, or bacon

and some days I am good,
and some days I am bad.

I try to chalk it up to the fact that I live life on the run
and that I'm usually on a low budget.

So let's hope I do better tomorrow, but if not that I realize that just because I'm not a twig, doesn't mean I'm not beautiful.

And that goes for all you ladies out there as well.

And men, how many sitcoms featuring chubby men married to hot women will it take to make you realize that all you need to do is be nice to us and make us laugh?

* I'm German, Czech, Irish, and Italian, I'm built with big frame, to be strong, like bull

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

No, really, it's fun to watch you talk on your cellphone

More and more lately I find myself hanging out with friends who feel the need to take every incoming phone call on their cell, even if it's that "just calling to chat" phone call.

Yeah, I'm really glad we're hanging out like this. I can catch up with you by overhearing your personal conversation. Oh yeah, this is so worth the trip out to visit.

I understand that you're a busy person, I too have a rich social life. But people, if you're going to take the "just to chat phone call" - why didn't we just have a phone conference?

I'll sit on one end of a bar/restaurant/apartment, and you sit at the other
we can look at eachother as we talk on the phone and if someone beeps in, you take the phone call and I'll people watch by myself, so it doesn't look so much like I'm a boring person as it does a lonely person,
in this case a passer by might stop to speak to me and I won't have to be so bored.

Now, when the emergency phone call comes up, or one you've been waiting to take, go ahead, take it.

What really burns my biscuits is when you're having a social, friendly, catch-up conversation with a friend, and then the friend gets a call and you get to hear the same thing all over, but now one sided.

The other fun thing that happens is when someone gets several phone calls and walks away from you each time, so they can have a catch up conversation with someone in full, and you keep getting pieces in between.

OR how about the text message, this is the psuedo phone conversation that goes on throughout the night. So at basically every plot point of a story a beep goes off, your friends fingers are flying, they nod as if they are totally listening to you and then once they hit send look up at you and say, "hmm?"

Remember the time when you left the house and no one could reach you?
When you went out with people and were just with the people you were with.

If you don't remember it, try leaving your cell phone at home, or even just turning it off, next time you go to hang out with a friend.

Trust me, it will be lovely.

Monday, May 08, 2006

Proof of Age

I don't have an ID at the moment (see ...The Morning After)
So when I showed up at a scheduled reunion of friends at the Beer Garden in Astoria I was faced with proving to a cop that I am in fact, 24 years old.
First, I tried the ol' walk right in. But he was a cop and he wasn't haven't it.
Deep breath.
"ok, so here's the deal - I lost my wallet. In my wallet I had the drivers license proving I'm 24 years old, born December 5, 1981."

He laughed at my attempt, but said that it was a risk for not just him, but also the owners, and he asked me if I came here often.
I hadn't been there in a year.
I needed to pull out the big guns.
I have a mini wallet with lesser used cards that I pulled out.

"Ok, so here's all the proof I have of who I am -
An NPR membership card, what person under 21 is a card carrying member of public radio?
A savings account card, with my name on it. Officer, when you were under 21 did you have a savings account, I doubt it.
And the big kicker, I have a business card, what kind of kid has a busniess card?
I have a 401K for Christ sake, and I'm starting to get wrinkles - you can't get wrinkles from being under 21, you can get wrinkles from being a hard working, stressed out, forgetful 24 year old who lost her wallet and just wants a beer with her friends. So, what do you say?"
He sighed.
That's when I pulled out the even bigger gun.
"You can call my mom, she will tell you. I'll call from my cell, you can see it says Mom and she's a God loving woman, Officer, she will tell you the truth. That I am 24 and I lost my wallet...and that I need a drink."

He looked at my friend Debbie, and says "how old are you?"
"I'm 24 too, she's older than me" she says as she hands over her id.
He looks at me funny and I say "December 5, 1981" and he reads Debbie's January, 16, 1982.

He then rolled his eyes and let me in.

Sunday, May 07, 2006

"It's getting hot and the ladies are getting naked"

Probably the most overtold joke in history.

Trust me I sit through a lot of jokes.
My answer to this joke:

It's flippin hot and I sweat like a pig in heat, so yeah I'm wearing a tank top and a skirt. I never knew what a wonderful choice this apparel was for men's reactions till I walked through NYC like that. Men are constantly congratulating my clothing choice:
"Well done"
"Looks good"
and apparently I'm also what some dudes are "talkin' about"

I even had a guy sing a song about me and my brown skirt:
"The girl in the brown skirt
she's so hot it almost hurts
she won't look at me
the hottie in the brown skirt"

I wish I could return the complements, but really all I'm thinking is,

"When was the last time you cleaned that shirt?"

"Have you smelled yourself lately?"

"Is that whiskey on your breath or did someone throw up on you?"

Saturday, May 06, 2006

..The Morning After

I've never had the ability to sleep in.

I think this stems from my mother's love of waking me up every morning by pulling up the shades while singing "Wake up a Little Susie*"

I live by myself now but I can never sleep past 9 or 10 on the weekends.
and I definitely I can't sleep in after I've been drinking the night before.

On Friday night I went out and engaged in consuming alcohol for many many hours.

After that kind of night I look forward to spending my Saturday in my pj's, on the couch, napping and watching TV.

But at 9:30AM I hear pounding, drilling, hammering
the neighbor who hasn't picked up the chinese menu that was in front of his door for the past two weeks, suddenly wants to build something.
So with a tiny manageable headache escalating to thoughts of jumping out the window to escape the incessant pounding I realize I need to get out of my sanctuary before it kills me.

I go about the apartment collecting my necessary accessories.
purse that weighs about ten pounds due to change - check
cell phone - check
ipod & headphones - check
metro card - check
keys - check
wallet - um, not here, maybe it's here, (pounding walls) not gonna get nervous, (sounds like he's about to break the wall down and be in my apartment)
the banging stops for a minute.
I gotta get outta here, think, think, think think think!!!:: when did you last see the wallet?
is it under the couch - no
is it in my bedroom - no
it is under all the crap on the couch - move the sweat shirt, move last months cable bill, the ten Victoria's Secret catalogue that I shouldn't look at because I already have too much shit, move the too much shit and - no wallet.

Oh, now I remember. I had it on the seat in the cab and I looked right at it and thought,

I should put that in my bag, I'm going to forget it.

Have you ever called the NYC cab lost and found? do you know what you get, you get the CITY of NEW YORK on the phone. I'm on hold thinking, this is going to take forever. Nope, I got on the line with Maria quite quickly, and she even laughed when I went through my stob story to only reveal at the end "oh yeah and I was tipsy" so Maria and I walk through my night.
"Where did the cab pick you up?"
I was on 2 or 3rd ave on either 53 or 50th Street, I think.
"Are you sure?"
Maria, I had been drinking since 6,
"Ok, so what time did you get into the cab?"
I'm gonna say around 12 or 1
"so it was this morning?"
I think so but I have no concept of time.
"excuse me?"
I don't wear a watch and there's only one correct clock in my apartment, and I'm not always sure that's right.
"Where did the cab drop you off?"
That I remembered
I think if I didn't, Maria was going to transfer me to an AA meeting.

I then call and cancel my capitol one card. No transactions we're ok.
I then check my ATM card online. No transactions we're ok.
I then call my mother because my license still reads that I'm living with her.
She expresses concern, understanding, asks if I canceled my ATM card and I said I was about to when I hung up with her. She says "DO IT NOW!" and hangs up on me. We're O-K.

So, the pounding is intense, there's more of it now and my arm is tired of hanging onto the cell phone because I've been calling all over to cancel things and try to find my wallet. Finally, I realize that I've done all I can do, I need to get out and my friend lives only blocks away so I head over to his place to get my Saturday relaxation on.

When I walked home, very very slowly that night, I was petrified that my neighbor would still be working away. I was walking down Steinway thinking that instead of fast food, tonight I'll go to the food store, when I saw a cute dude and I gave him a little smile. He was walking the other way, no harm - right?
He followed me up to the store. At first he was nice, he was Ukranian, I probably didn't spell that right, but I would do an even more muderous version of his name if I tried typing that. "Where you from?" he asks me.
"New York"
He laughed his ass off. "You the only one around here from here."
So true.
"You give me number?"
"I don't even know you."
"You give me phone number."
"No thanks."
"You no give me phone number? I'm not good at English. You give me phone number."
"I don't buy that dude, like I said, I'm FROM HERE."
He then walked away, saying his friend lived on that block,
a few minutes later...
he runs up behind me and asks if I'd like to get pizza with him.
I said I had to go food shopping and that I didn't believe in pizza.
It confused the hell out of him and he let me go.
The moral of this story - whenever an annoying man hits on you, act crazy. If he acts crazy, act crazier.

As for my wallet, when I got home I had an email. The cab driver found my wallet and used my business card to contact me.

And today, no loud construction work, and i'm lounging around the messy apartment watching the Met game.
See, it all ends up ok. It's just a bitch that morning after.

*My mother is the only person who can really get away with calling me Susie. This is because she birthed me and loves me unconditionally - no one else has this right. See if you know me, if you've ever heard me speak, you will know I'm not a Susie. There have been other people along the way that I've allowed (the rule is, if you knew me when I was young enough to be a Susie, age 6 and below, it's ok). What happens if you call me Susie? I go to the very dark obnoxious part of myself and will lay thick contempt upon you. Even if you think it's going to be funny, think twice before calling me Susie.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

The Steinway Street Fair and Other Oddities

On Sunday, after a very long and unexpected weekend of traveling, I came home to an instant message in which a friend alerted me of a street fair on Steinway. After watching a very disappointing end to the Mets* v. Brave series, I ventured out of “the gardens” to see what a Queens fair was like.
I’ve lived in Queens for almost two years now, and it’s rare I venture out. I think it’s due to my unhealthy need for companionship with my television.
I figure a fair is a nice way to see more neighbors, get out there and be part of the hood.
I choose to wear comfy attire. Which is pretty ragged seeing as I can dress casual to work. When I’m off of work I’m obligated to wear the most bizarre, unacceptable, dirty, cut up stuff I can find.
I choose the new Amercian Appeal tank top and sweatshirt.
Adding to the madness, sunglasses, jeans, and my Birkenstocks
Wearing sunglasses is a new trip for me because I can’t wear contacts anymore because they irritate my allergy eyes, so everyone is and everything is dark and fuzzy and kind of a surprise when I finally recognize what it is.
As I stroll down broadway I hear from behind my giant headphones a comment about my apparel from a crowd walking by and then a response,
“I know that girl”
I immediately spin ready for a fight
Bitch you think you know me?
“Who knows me?”
I turn around and focus, as the girls says
“Yeah, I went to high school with you.”
Not only high school, College too.
Yikes, awkward.
Not only did I know this girl, I liked this girl and I’m looking like a total space cadet.
Well, since she knows me I’m certain she knows that I was just the same as I was in high school and college and was genuine when I gave her my card and told her to call me if she is really going to move into my neighborhood.
Because I don’t really know people in my immediate neighborhood.
Even though I was meeting one at the streetfair.
He calls me when I’m a block a way to say that the fair is lame.
I was already on my way, so I decided to meet up with him after I had decided for myself.
So I continue on my merry way to the fair.
It was all a fair is meant to be, fried food, overly sugared food, overly salted food, smoothies, daquaris, pina colada,
As I make my way through the crowds and tables I see more than one table with sunglasses cheaper than mine,
Which we five dollars on 6 avenue,
The same pair was 2 dollars on Steinway
A little forlorn but still determined to find fun I soldiered on
And suddenly I’m accosted by a tiny yet zealous Asian man rubbing me down, pushing me toward his massage chairs Which, out of the things a person could suddenly be accosted by, is on the rare “good” end,
But none the less I tried to explaining to him that my bag is so heavy that it didn’t justify spending my last ten bucks on a massage when I’d have to continue on my way with it hanging off me.
I should not have held it out for him to feel
After snatching my bag back from the tiny yet zealous Asian man I was all but ready to give up.
But then I saw the half moon ride swing up in the air and I thought, why go back now?
And as luck would have it, I stumbled upon a stand that was selling imperfect American Apparel** tshirts and sweat shirts for $5-2 bucks.

After much rummaging and little purchasing I walked out of the fair with the realization that no matter where you are in America, street fairs and lawn fairs usually are made up of the same fare.

And whenever you’re near one, it’s kind of like going home again in that nostalgia of childhood kind of way.

There was a fair in my home town every Memorial Day that was pretty much the highlight of my pre and pubescent period, that fair holds almost too many memories to retell, but the best part was the sense of freedom it held for me.

It was almost the end of the school year, summer was so class that you really didn’t even care about school anymore and you were outdoors with your friends, your parents were off talking with their friends or looking at some sort of boring floral painting and you were free for hours to eat and buy dumb things and go off on crazy adventures with the wild boys, and meet up at the end satisfied that you did as much stuff that you could get away with, and even though you had to go to school the next day you’d fall asleep to fireworks and the taste of freedom, of soon-to-be summer sweetness. That sweetness would last you would thrive off of as you made your way through the last four weeks of school.

Now that I’m 24, no school, only endless weeks of work and crazy weekends, and possible weeknights of fun, madness, misery and laughter are ahead of me.
I left the fair with a different taste in my mouth:
It was king of like putting ice cream and salt and vinegar chips in your mouth at the same time.
But the rest I got that night was very similar to that of the days of the Memorial Day Fair:
Content and soundly.
I hope the feeling lasts as long.

*In case you are wondering my baseball alliance, I grew up a Met fan. Spent many a summer's day and night in the red seats of the upper upper mez watching the game, and my father annotate it in a score keepers book, for fun. As I grew and the Mets game declined, I found myself cheering for Boston mid/late season, because I hated the Yankees. My hatred for the Yankees also goes back to my Dad. When my mother mistakenly bought me a Yankee hat he ripped it off my head and said if I was ever a Yankee fan I'd be thrown out of the house.
Ah, I do love baseball.

**I’m way into American Apparel lately due to the fact that even though they are expensive, plain, threads, they don’t have the tears of underpaid foreign child workers on them, and call me crazy but I think it makes the colors more vibrant.