Thursday, December 24, 2009

When You Turn Into Your Mother, A Christmas Blog

Ever wake up and realize you are your mother?
This happened to me when I woke up at 3AM with intense anxiety that presents had to be wrapped immediately.
I got out of bed, turned on some Wings Wonderful Christmas Time and wrapped presents.

Now, it's not just a Christmas thing that my mother would do things such as this. During other high stress times in our family history I can recall mom discussing how she couldn't sleep...The kitchen floor wasn't washed and so, it only made sense to wake up at an ungodly hour and do it.

There was a time when I thought this was crazy behavior. This morning though, it made complete sense. Of course you have to wake up and wrap presents immediately. How else would you sleep with that kind of thought running through your mind?

Perhaps, this isn't a case of Ireneism though.

Maybe, I'm not turning into my mother.

Maybe, I'm just excited for my Christmas present this year.

This Christmas my present to myself is not traveling.
Sadly, that means I'll be missing out in my traditional trip to see my sister and her family in Virginia.
Happily, it means that I will not have to travel.

For those of you regulars on the blog, you may have read the adventure to meet my nephew previously. If not take a gander and tell me if you'd be really into hopping onto another bus for 8 hours through holiday traffic.

I have to say, to not be with family on Christmas somehow seems cosmopolitan to me. It's like a right of passage of an urbanite to have that holiday trip home passed on at one point for some reason or another.

I'll be spending tonight and tomorrow with friends, which is also a wonderful testament to city living. You end up with these friends that become family. We're all in this city together, we need to stand together over something - and gosh darn it, why not eggnog?

Actually, make that Mimosas. I'm allergic to dairy.
The drink Mimosas, not my cat Mimosa ...which I'm also allergic to, but that's an entirely different blog post.

Merry Christmas pals!

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Stick a Needle in Me, I'm Sick

Well, the shock of me being sick has died down like what? Four years ago?
I'm pretty much a sickly person, and it's frustrating because I'm not a completely unhealthy person.
My favorite food is spinach. I've recently become a big fan of beets. I walk at least a mile a day and work out often. I eat salads without dressing and with tons of veggies.
Yet, I am still recovering from the flu, after being sick off and on for months.

So, my doctor recommended acupuncture.

Apparently, acucpuncture can help boost immunity. I'm not sure if it's that direct, but it can help fix chronic issues. For me, that is allergy/sinus stuff. No matter what, ever fall and every winter I get a sinus infection. No matter how often I neti pot, drink tea, or sacrifice comedy gigs to go home and sleep - I get stuffed up, then it gets worse, then I get a chronic headache, and then I can't get out of bed cause I'm trapped with congestion.

A lot of people that I tell about my acupuncture get squeamish and think I've gone kind of nuts. It's not like I particularly enjoy the needles going into my skin. I do enjoy how I feel afterward. I've gotten more energy, lost that headache I've had for over a month, and my voice is finally back.

I'm not sure if I'll never be sick again, but I think there's definitely something to this acupuncture thing. Even if all it's giving me is hope.

Saturday, October 31, 2009

I Was a Dark Teen

I wasn't into Halloween this year.

I just came off an epic road trip - into a ton of catch-up work. The last thing I wanted to think about was finding a costume and a party to go to celebrate a holiday I'm frankly not all that into. I felt angsty about the entire thing. I wanted to just lock myself up in my apartment and watch a marathon of Law & Order Special Victims Unit and call it a night.

And that's when it came to me: angsty + wanna-be loner = Teenage Sue Funke

I decided to dress up as a grunge kid. Not just because of the attitude was easy to slip into, but it's also a damn comfortable costume. And even bigger bonus - it's a reason for me to buy jeans.

Halloween is supposed to be a night where you dress up as something you're not normally. Well, I haven't worn jeans in a year.

(I'll pause for your disbelief on my ability to live in such a way as an American.)

It's true. I stopped wearing jeans for a while, in an effort to be more feminine, wearing skirts and such
... and because when I had bed bugs I put my jeans in the dryer on high so many times they shrunk.

I meant to buy jeans, but it was honestly easier, and somewhat cheaper, to invest in tights and warm dresses.

I informed my pal Blythe of my genius costume. She laughed, due to a memory of teenage Sue.

"I remember you came into school one Monday and were head-to-toe in black. It was the first time you did that*. I asked you why you were all in black and you replied, 'It's Monday, Blythe. John Lennon died on a Monday.' "

I was a pretty ridiculous Beatles fan back than, so this did not surprise me. It did, however, make me laugh my ass off.

What an over dramatic little teen I was.

Getting ready tonight for the grunge costume was frighteningly familiar. Straightening my hair, putting on a bunch of eyeliner, listening to Nirvana a little too loudly. It was nice to go back, and absurdly comfortable as well.

I'm now starting to wonder, is this my costume, or my attempt to bring this style back?
Mmmm flannel...

*I subsequently did that a ton... I totally loved NIN.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Trip to Meet My Nephew: Trip Home

So, on Monday morning Jen and I hit the road. We were both sad to say goodbye and the giant hugs I gave and received from Matt and Jeannette made me feel a rush of sadness I haven't felt for a long time.

It was reminiscent of when I was younger and Jen, Matt and Mike would leave for college. Because of the age gap, their college years were during my kindergarten to grammar school years and when they would go I would often run up to my room and cry into my teddy bear for a while. I would also listen to Billy Joel, because Long Islanders do that no matter what mood we're in.

As we pulled away, embarking once again on our 13 hour journey, Jen and I felt like road warriors. We could do this, heck we already knew the way to I-95 from our brother's place, this was easy peasy. The trip gave us time to look at all the road signs.

My favorite part of the road trip was probably talking to Jen, but second to that had to be Pedro and the ridiculous signs for South of the Border. If you are not familiar with these signs, well you obviously haven't driven north on 95 through the state that does not end, South Carolina- or from North Carolina to the South Carolina border.
South of the Border is the most obvious tourist trap you've ever seen. You get the hint by, oh the 20th sign you see for it. When we were driving back my reporter sister, who had just learned how to use my iPhone decided to research the place. The following are my favorite facts about South of the Border:
  • It claims to have the largest sign IN THE WORLD. (Coming from NYC, I'm pretty sure that's false.)
  • It has a large variety of shops, from antiques to adult pleasure store that boasts anything you'd need from a sex shop.
  • It started as a beer stand - the perfect roadside stop.
  • It has a large tower that is 200 feet high with a spectacular view of, absolutely nothing.
  • DOZENS of people get married there ever summer.
The marriage thing still cracks me up. I am the only Funke child currently not married. Naturally this gave way to my sister and I speculating that surely, the only man good enough for me would understand the need for us to exchange nuptials in a road side tourist trap because of the hilarity factor.

The day after we returned from our road trip to Jen's in Virgina we were both exhausted. I spent most of the day playing with my adorable niece and dreading going back to New York. As much as I worried about the crazy, whirlwind, exhausting nature of this trip on paper, the actual execution of it was quite wonderful. Going back on an 8 hour luxury bus (SO glad I thought ahead and realized I wouldn't want to do another Greyhound transfer) seemed horrible on so many levels.
  1. I didn't want to sit anymore.
  2. I didn't want to see the open road for a while.
  3. I didn't want to return to New York City where my family was so far, far away from me.
There was hope though.
I mean, I do love New York City. I love living alone with my adorable fat cat (that I am allergic to). And I love my friends, my comedy and my job - which are all in New York.
The other thing is-
While I was away I booked tickets for my next big trip: To go to my brother Mike's house for Thanksgiving.

When it comes to vacations, mine can be put to the tune of Billy Joel's New York State of Mind:
Some folks like to get away take a holiday from the neighborhood
Hop a flight to Miami Beach or Hollywood
I'm navigating a Greyhound, and then takin' I-95
I'm going to go see that Funke family of mine.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Trip to Meet My Nephew: Zachary

My nephew is a month old today. His name is Zachary, and as easy as it would be to say that he's just like any newborn: a wrinkley tiny human that does little more than eat, sleep, and poop- I can't say that.
Zachary looks so much like a part of my family that when I saw him it was as if my mind was piecing together all the old baby photos of my father and brothers at once. Then he opened his eyes and had pretty piercing blue eyes like my step sister. He was not just another sack of baby, he is Zachary, my new nephew.
I wasn't running to hold him though.

There were other things clamouring for my attention. My brother owns 3 mid-sized dogs that are all eager to sniff you and make you their new bff. Figment is the one they had the longest, and while he's no part cocker spaniel it's as if he was the dog Lady, from disney's "Lady and the Tramp" was drawn from. Then they got Taz, which was the dogs given name. This dog seems fated to have been with Matt. When we were younger Matt loved the Tazmanian Devil and even decorated his Jeep Wrangler with Taz accessories. Taz the dog is a mutt with a tail that is slightly curved as if he too were coming out if a whirl wind.
Last, but not least there is the leader of the pack, Tinker Bell. Tink found my brother and sister in law. She was running around their neighborhood aimlessly as a crazy puggel and came up to them. They searched for her owners an by the time they realized she had no home, she had made theirs hers.
This Motley pack of dogs were all so cuddley that I almost didn't realize I hadn't held my nephew at the end of that first night.
The next morning that was corrected when I cautiously took Zachary in my arms. There's something about me and my nieces and nephews that makes me not want to sing baby songs to them. Each of the wee ones I've held I've softly sang to them in cooing tones horribly inappropriate songs. Nothing that resembles a lullabye lyrically, but in tone and level, very sweet. It's not on purpose, it just happens.
So, as I held this adorable baby I started singing softly to him a little diddy from comedic songwriter Stephen Lynch. And he cooed and closed his eyes for sweet slumber.
The rest of the time in Florida was spent catching up with matt and his wife, Jeannette. It was so great to reconnect face to face after all these years. It was also nice to be around Matt because we are quite a bit alike. In fact we even look alike and to hear us be told we look and sound similar again felt oddly homey and sweet after all these years.
And that was my time in Florida.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Trip to Meet My Nephew: VA to FL

As I navigated the greyhound bus through Virginia we chatted sporadically, to keep him awake. Mostly because when I took the navigation over he confessed to me, "I've been on 15 hours now."
I told Curtis of this family adventure I was taking. "this is my first greyhound ride," I confessed.
"You picked the wrong day to start," he said in a tone that sounded like he thought we might die that night.
We didn't.
I got us to 3 out of 4 stops with only a few illegal u- turns. By the time I got us to Charlottesville it was 10:30, an hour and half late, but just in time for the people to make their transfer. Everyone got off the bus, and I was hugged and thanked by passengers. Which was nice but I barely said goodbyes as I ran to my sister and told her I really needed a drink.
"you kinda look like you've been to 'nam," she said. I dunno if it was that harsh, but it definite wasn't the restful ride I hoped for before our estimated 13 hour drive to Florida we were embarking on the next morning.
That night after a drink and some wings, I passed out on jen's couch. I was awoken the next morning to my 7 year old nephew's "whispering" my name, followed by my 3 year old niece also attempting to whisper, "Aunt Sue!"
I hugged them both hello and then shortly after was getting ready to hit the road.
It took jen and I 14 hours to get to Florida, with multiple stops for peeing and a long one for a big Mexican lunch. Uneventful on the road, but fun conversations and a good time was had by both of us.
More tomorrow on the reason for the excursion, my newest nephew.

Trip to meet my nephew: the bus ride

So, my last blog got cut off because I was writing it on the bus. It was going to go into how there was no eta for the bus but she was positive that the bus would be there by ten and I said something like she was missing a variable in her equation and she told me that I could get my money back and not go at all.
That story was interrupted from my blog because of our bus driver, Curtis.
"Hello, ladies and gentleman and welcome to the greyhound bus to Charlottesville, VA. I am your bus driver Curtis. I a NYC line driver and never done this route before. We will be making stops at x, and x and x along the way* if I miss your stop just holler at me. Again, my name is Curtis."
As Curtis walked back up the bus to take the wheel I looked around to the other wide-eyed passengers, my new friends from the past hour. We had fought to esure peoples transfers together, gone through the drunk dude pissing himself together. We had all foolishly thought that once we were on this bus we'd be on our ways. We collectively decided to just ignore this news by shaking our heads and shrugging.
We drove about dc for about ten minutes before Curtis pulled the bus over and once again walked back to address us. He was sheepishly holding four pieces of paper, "um, would anyone be able to help me with the directions?"
No one said anything. A few people shifted awkwardly in their seats.
"Look, I'm lost already so if someone can just come sit up there and help me with these directions -"
I looked around and saw that no one was volunteering. Mostly because most of them were in the state of shock.
"I'll do it," I said, and I grabbed my iPhone and carry on bag and walked to the front of the bus.
I looked at the paper directions and realized we had two block too far.
" ok, so we need to make a u turn."
"lady, I'm driving a bus, we don't just make u turns."
"ok, um go ahead to the light and make a left into that parking lot and turn around."
"ok you watch for cops cause I'm not really supposed to go in a lot that small."
We sucessfully turn the bus around and I got us headed to what I thought was the right way from the map and direction sheet combo.
As I poured over my gps map on my iPhone and tried to get through a city that I've only had brief relations with when my sister lived there, 15 years ago, I heard a woman's digital voice.
"go straight, at light make left on 3rd street."
"Um, Curtis, do you have a gps navigator your holding out on me?" I asked.
"are you crazy? Hell no!" he said as he tried to mannuevere the bus through traffic.
I turn to the bus and shout, who has a gps?
A Spanish woman holds up her phone, " I do on my phone, but I have to stay with my daughter, here you take."
Now using two gps devices and paper directions I get us on track with what had been written for Curtis to do.
20 minutes later we're out of dc but lost again. The paper directions are written by someone who didn't so much know street names but food chains: at the 2nd right side mcdonalds make a left
As we were about to do our second turn around on this lef of the trip it dawned on me to ask if anyone was getting out at this stop.
"speak now or forever miss your stop!"
No one spoke. I called out the other stops and got at least one or two yeses or hands raised so I made the executive decision that we weren't making the first stop. Now, I know you might be thinkin, but Sue, what of the peolple that might be waiting at that stop. In my mind, I had four people on my bus trying to catch a transfer and those people at the other station were saved from this crazy bus.
...more later

*I don't remember the other three towns names so i'm leaving them out, Curtis did read them off his paper directions.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Trip to Meet My Nephew: 2nd email to jen

-----Original Message-----
From: Sue Funke
Still not on bus, they forgot to call a replacement driver when ours
called out sick. I'll possibly be closer to 10, and I'll definitely
need alcohol.
Not three bottles of scotch like the drunk hippie though. He's laying
on the floor now.
Woo hoo greyhound!

-----Original Message-----
From: Jen
I admit, I really did just LOL! Sorry you're running so late.

... About 30 min after this message, after the drunk hippie got escorted out, I went to find out more about the missing driver.
In my mind I tried to think of what card I could play.
"I know travel writers! I work for!"
I even, for a quick minute considered pulling out my NY Times ID, but then considered the massive ethics issues that could cause and decided to just go with being a fiesty white woman.
"ok, its bern 30 minutes without an update, I really need to speak with your manager now," I said in my serious reporter voice.
"mmhmm, I know but she's in a meetin'"
"This is a pull-her- out-of-the-meeting situation," I said in my don't- f- with me voice.
She then went into the back for like 1 minute and came back with the following story:
Well, see here, the bus driver, we got a new bus driver, is up on the hill making sure the bus is working ok, because - and now this is my fault, I'll take responsibility for this part - I didn't realize you didn't have a bus.
I can refund your money, my manager authorized me to do that or get you another ticket.

"What am I supposed to do? Wait here for the bus that leaves tomorrow? Is there no bus? Am I just gonna stay here? Or are you gonna give us a place to stay? I wanna know should we all just come to your place for dinner?"

She replied, "No the bus should be here and will definitely be in Charlottsville no later than 10."

"ok so is there an eta of when

Trip to Meet My Nephew: email to Jen

Jen emailed me telling me she had a bad dream that I had arrived last night and she has forgotten me. While this was amusing, it didn't beat the entertainment at the greyhound station. Below is the email I sent her-

Ha you know I wouldn't come without constant updates.
I'm still not on the greyhound that was supposed to leave at 5:05. There is however entertainment from the drunk hippie ahead of me online. He was telling this cute 20 something black dude about how the planets crashed together and made Alaska, and how he should be proud to be an American, and then dropped his ticket and hit his head against the wall while bending down to grab it- it was then he sheepishly admitted that he had "a lil scotch".
Oh wait I think he's going to start complaining- I gotta watch this.
I'm also not sure if the drunk old dude is farting bad or if it's just that this entire place smells like shit.
(turns out he soiled his pants)
Yay! Adventure travel.
The drunk old man got distracted by a bird and has decided not to complain.
I'm totally blogging this.
Your little sister, Sue
Sent from my iPhone, because I'm a lady on the go.

Trip to Meet my Nephew Day 1

So, I guess I should start this travel blog with an explanation as to what this trip is all about.
It's pretty much the making of an indie film:
I'm taking two buses down to semi rural Virginia from New York to my sister's home where she resides with a husband and two children. We are then leaving her family behind and driving about 13 hours south to reunite with our brother and his wife whom we haven't seen in over two years, and meet his newborn son.
Can you hear the folk music play yet?
Driving down was my idea. As a New Yorker Ive had to ditch my passion for driving and learn to settle for the thrill of finding the fastest subway route.
My sister and I have also taken a road trip before that was quite memorable, though at the time I was too young to help drive. I was 13 and jen, my mother and I went to Baltimore, charlottseville, and I think perhaps Pennsylvania as well. It was a fun trip, and my sister found her now home on that trip.
I highly doubt I'll find a new place to live along 95 in one of the Carolinas. In fact, as I watched the skyline on the N today I thought, "I'm gonna miss you New York."
And then some dude's back pack nailed me on the head and I thought, "maybe it is time for a vacation. I could use some personal space."

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Why You Should See a Shrink

Lately, I've had a lot of friends tell me stories about loved ones who need therapy but refuse to seek out help. This is probably one of the most frustrating things in the world for me to hear.

I've been going to see a therapist on and off since I was 16 and I've been to psychologists, psychiatrists, and even group therapy. I fully believe that I'm a better person for it. In fact, I'm so well adjusted that I am quite often a person friends go to for advice.

I love being there for my friends, I really do, but there's one draw back. I don't get paid for it, and shrinks do. Psychologists will also give you much better attention and advice than my freebies any day.

I would love for everyone in the world to go to therapy at some point to gain a better understanding and control of their emotions. But what I really want is for all the people that need therapy to go, and frankly, the reasons people give for not going are just not cutting the mustard -

Reasons People Give to Not Go To Therapy
  1. "Going to therapy makes me seem weak, like I can't handle my problems."
-When I heard someone give me this reason, my immediate unfiltered response was, "You're a f**kin' pussy. You're not going to therapy because you are afraid of what you might find." It actually takes a strong person to face their issues and work through them. So, don't wuss out, go get help, toughie.

2. "I already know how to help myself, I don't need help."

-If you think you know how to help yourself, and don't need any help - you're basically like a three year old struggling with shoe laces and shouting, "I can do it myself!" We all need help sometimes. If you're having a hard time dealing with an issue in your life, even if you think you know the solution - a shrink can sometimes point out an easier way to get there that can make life a lot better.

3. "It's not like I'm the only one suffering."

-Of course you're not. There are tons of stubborn fools just like you that don't want to get help. Instead of being one of the miserable people, why not try to be someone in control of your emotions? The people that go to shrinks, let out the sadness and suffering and find ways to cut the suffering.

4. "I can't afford a shrink."

-If you have healthcare, work it out with your provider. It's worth fighting for the right to mental health. If you don't- look up places in your community where you can get free help. There are tons of free groups that can give you support online and in person.

You honestly can't afford not to see a shrink if you're really depressed, or having a tough time dealing with issues your life. These issues can spiral out of control, and it could ultimately impact your physical health.

5. "They are just going to put me on meds, and I don't want to be medicated."

-Psychiatrists will put you on medicine, that's their job- to medicate emotional issues as they see fit. Psychologists will help you talk out your problems as much as possible. They are not there to medicate, they are there to mediate. Unless you have a present chemical imbalance, a psychologist will not put you on any medication.

6. "It's not like a doctor can solve all my problems."

-You're right, a doctor can't solve all your problems. In fact, nothing can solve all your problems. But, a psychologist can help you deal with your problems more efficiently so they don't overwhelm and consume you. Doesn't that sound nice?

7. "I'm not going to spend every day laying on my couch telling some stranger my problems."

-Most therapists actually don't want you in therapy forever. Talk therapy is meant to help you work out specific problems and get you on your feet. You might be saying, "Yeah, but, Sue, you said you were in therapy since you were 16. That's kind like forever." Nope, I don't go every week, I'm pretty much on a check-in bases with my shrink and I'm still working out a few issues, but for the most part - I go as much as I need to go.

Also, I've never laid on a couch. Never, not once. I've sat on couches. I've sat on comfy reclining chairs. I've crossed my legs and sat on the ground- because that's how I felt comfortable.

And finally, the stranger aspect - that is the best part! When you go to a shrink you can tell them anything, and I mean anything, about anything...or anybody.

Psychologists are wonderful third parties that you can bitch to with pretty much no repercussion. So, if you feel like your family/friend/loved one is suffocating you, but can't tell anyone because everyone you know knows the people involved in your situation, or could talk and it could get back to them - Voila! The stranger that actually wants to hear you bitch, and won't say nothing to no one about what you say.

8. "People might find out. It goes into your medical records that you see a shrink."

-Unless you're planning on joining the CIA, no one is really looking into your medical records when hiring you. If you are going into a job where they look at your medical records it might make you look better if you have gone to therapy, because it shows you learned how to coupe with and handle your emotions.
And, if you're worried about how your friends/family might think you should let them know you're doing it for your health.

Mental health is a huge part of your well being. If you are stressed, depressed, anxious, or feeling at all unbalanced the repercussions can impact just about any part of your physical health.

So, my crazy friends, and friends of friends - man up! Get some help if you are feeling despondent. There's no reason to suffer in silence, or depend only on your friends and family when you're feeling super blue. Shrinks are good and can be good for you.

Take it from someone who's been really down, and is currently out and about, and happy with where she is in her life.

Best of luck!

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Down with Allergies!

This blog could also be called, "A Birthday Present For Colin Dempsey: My Blog's Biggest Fan"
I've been meaning to blog. I really have, but instead, I've slept.

I was sick for about three weeks. Turns out I'm severely allergic to something.
I'm really hoping that something isn't this:
That you see sitting there blending into my floor is Mimosa. She's an eight year old cat that kinda looks like Wilford Brimley and Garfield if they had offspring. I got her via a friend of a friend of a friend.
I wasn't looking for a cat, but when I saw her adorable face I was sold.
I really don't want to talk too much about her. Mostly, because I already feel ridiculously single, with a cat conversation on the tip of my tongue I feel like I'm online for a ticket to spinster central.
Also, it appears she may be one of the things that has made me deathly ill for the past three weeks.

Other possible allergen culprits are:

  1. A new form of grass : This seems ironic for those of you who know of some of my recreational habits, but I'm actually really allergic to grass. I find this kinda weird that a new strain of grass got to me seeing as I live in the concrete jungle that is NYC, but perhaps I've been walking through fields during one of my many "vacations". (Since I'm poor this year, vacations are basically me getting black out drunk.)
  2. Dust: It's already known that I'm allergic to dust, but it's odd that I'd be getting more dust than usual. Especially since I've actually started cleaning my apartment on a regular bases. (Growing up is weird- priorities shift. Instead of brunching the weekend mornings away I sweep/mop and listen to NPR)
  3. Dairy: I've been told that this might be a problem in the past. I am in total denial of this being a possible truth. I really don't want a life without cheese.
So, I'm basically waiting until the blood tests come back to see what allergen is sucking my will to live.

Luckily, I can still drink- and we're doing an Octoberfest theme at Convergence tonight.

Tuesday, September 01, 2009

Chances to See Sue Funke Live

Hey there pals!

I'm going to do some great shows,

Check it all out by clicking here: Sue Funke Comedy on Blogspot

and one of the shows this month includes an all new sketch show from

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Is There An App For Being A Lame Adult?

Last week, I stood in the Apple Store giddy as the kind sales woman smiled at me and said, "It's all yours, here's your iPhone."

"I paid for it? It's done? It's all set? It's really mine?" I said, clutching as if she was going to say - "Haha! I fooled you! No, you can't have this phone that you had sufficient funds to buy because you're Sue Funke and you can't have nice things. Mwah ha ha ha!"

But, she didn't. Instead, she nodded and gave me a smile while her eyes read, "This lady is nuts."

And that's when the iPhone became, my Matilda. (Yeah, I named it. I am aware that I am nuts, that woman was totally right to look at me that way.)

Within two hours of taking Matilda back to my office and syncing her up – I had erased years of contacts from my Gmail, about 800 contracts were poof! Gone.

How did I do such a thing? Honestly, the story is boring, but the truth of the matter was this technology was too much to handle so soon. I mean I went from flippy phone that got some rinky dink mobile sites, to being George Jetson shouting, “Jane! Get me off this crazy thing!”

But, I had signed a contract that stated I have 30 days to appreciate this device, or give it back and get the phone I already knew I didn’t want – a BlackBerry.

See, before I purchased (Matilda) my iPhone, I researched her for 6 months. In my world nothing should cost more than $20. When something does cost more I research the shit out of it. I look online, I ask friends, I grill customer service people with lists of questions. I go to stores and test, and ask more questions. I’m kinda nutty about it, so it makes sense that I’m an editor that focuses on ecommerce content.

I was determined to stand behind my research and fall in love with my iPhone.

I posted an update on Facebook asking for help with the applications. I didn’t know much about them, but I did know I should covet them because there’s an “app” for everything. I got this phone to help improve my life so – Friends, Countrymen, iPhoners! Lend me your app advice!
What came back were a deluge of games for me to play on my mobile advice.

Now, I got this phone to help improve my life: check work-email on the go, organize my gmail, make sure that I got to the right place on time – not to get a high score on Frogger.

It’s not that I don’t like video games. That’s actually far from the truth. I love playing video games. In fact there are rainy nights where I’ll sit around wishing I could play a round of Golden Eye, or even just try my hand again at the Same Game. But, I can’t play those games anymore, because…I’m a video game addict.

When I play video games, my competitive side comes out. I’m not just into this game because it’s fun. I’m in it to win it. And until I do, which I rarely do, I think about it – a lot.

I would find myself in high school and college not listening but looking at my fingers and mimicking the buttons on the controller. I would fall asleep and see the blocks of the Same Game arranging themselves so that I’d win. It gets to the point where when I get really into a video game, I lose all hopes of being a productive member of society. Because, I’m pretty sure society doesn’t have any openings for hire for mediocre, female gamers.

It’s embarrassing to admit all this to eager eyed pals that want me to download fun games. They, are all excited for us to share in the joys of gaming while I’m sitting there thinking, Yeah, but I really need to be successful and eat and stuff.

And through all this I realized, that I’m an adult. Not only am I an adult, but I’m kinda a dorky one. Like, I look at my iPhone as a productivity tool. Who says that kind of shit? Me! Me! I’m a freakin’ lame adult. I have goals, and game plans, and responsibilities, and a need to be productive.

I shouldn’t be so surprised by all this though. I was a dorky kid, too. I guess things don’t change so much, they just evolve. And maybe I can grow to be able to download one game, like an educational one. That won’t be too dangerous, right?

Well, for now I'll work on productivity tool app downloading. My favorite app so far, my Taco Bell locator.

Like my essay/story telling style? Check me out live at one of my storytelling shows live this month!

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

The Problem With Twitter

The problem with Twitter is that I now think thoughts in 140 characters.

And I'm not sure if that line was 140 or not,
but if there was a counter under it
and it was over 140 characters
I would edit it down to the bare sentiment.

That's a sad thing.
No luxuriously beautiful, superfluous adjectives.
Just Joe Fridays from here on out;
The facts and nothing but the brief facts.

I run 4 twitter accounts.
That's 4 outlets of 140 character thoughts that I update each on average about 2 times a day.
12 times a day, 140 character thoughts.

There's my personal/comedian twitter - @thesuefunke
This is where I talk about what's going on in my life.
Spew out 140 characters of a witty observation.

It's my mini "The Sue Funke" me.

On my @thesuefunke account I keep my friends. These are mostly people who if I ran into on the street I would know and say hello to, possibly even embrace because I can be "a hugger" sometimes.

Why is it that I'm holding out on my pals? Why am I limiting our exchanges to 140 letters?
Well, if I have something I really want to say that's longer - I will just update my facebook status to let everyone know.

Why don't I just call my friends?
I don't have time to call them. I'll just text them.
There - in 160 letters I've said how I truly feel, kinda...with even more horrible spelling and grammar.

I miss my grammar skills.

I used to be so adept at grammar that I would diagram sentences for fun, because I was so good at it.

I would sit back and be pleased with myself for understanding where the clauses were.
I knew the proper places for punctuation.

Now, I am constantly catching myself making the simplest grammar errors.
Ones that if I saw my friends do in my Great Grammar Glory Days
I would've scoffed at
and made fun of others for making.

My mind pushed these facts out so I could learn new, faster ways to communicate.

My second twitter feed was meant to promote my second blog - (@ILuvTVMoreThanU)

But instead, it's me just "re-tweeting" other people's updates about all the cool TV stuff I'm finding out.
I'm pushing out more words, more grammar lessons.
And I feel the need to tell everyone about it in a 140 character story...

I digress
-Thanks to the old fashion form of bloggery I write upon right now.

I have stopped updating my long form blogs lately, and have shifted my focus on clever tweets.
Which, as a busy person,
who is a little self centered, and wants to share it
is a wonderful thing.

Then, I got two more twitter accounts for the newsletters I'm writing at work
click on or copy
and sign up for The Shopping List and Screening Room))

So, I spend part of my day updating @Shopping_List
and @Screening_Room
and now it's all 140 bits
and pieces
and fragments
of thoughts, that somehow I feel need to be publicized.

It's so simple to get into the mundane tweeting practice.
To want to tell people where you are and what you're doing.
If it's somehow funny, even better.
If there's a good link - everyone should know!

And I feel my brain capacity shifting.
It's shifting away from full conversations.
I find myself not able to say the entire word totally.
It's not only more efficient, but adorable...or adorbs! even.

So, maybe it's not Twitter's fault.
Maybe it's just time.
We don't have enough time to do all we want/need so we feel the need to abbreviate life.
I'd expound upon this more,
but really

I've used far too many characters already.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Perez Hilton v. has nothing on THIS feud

As some of you may have seen Perez Hilton claims he was assaulted after he called a f*g

(Who's ready for gay pride week? Way to represent Perez!)

If you're out of work and hate yourself, watch all 11 minutes of this:

If you have some self respect and want to save yourself 11 minutes of your life, here's the...

Recap - Perez is upset he got hit for using a homophobic phrase in a hurtful manner towards (ironically of Black Eye Peas fame) and then Polo,'s manager/pal/dude allegedly hit Perez in the eye.

And rebutted (in a shorter version, worth the watch if you have like 3min.)

Well, now there's an even more thrilling video accusation/feud to watch:

H. Alan Scott


Heidi Montag

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Vanity Insanity

There's a common trend I've noticed recently that's started to bother me.

Men talking about the "fat girl" and looking at me waiting for my reaction.

Hi, I'm Sue Funke, and I'm a chubby girl.

There's a difference between fat and chubby.

As my friend Gina defined so well Fat is walking around the block and getting painfully tired with your joints aching from carrying your own weight.

Chubby is muffin topping out of jeans, having a slightly rounder than normal belly (FUN FACT: women are actually supposed to have stomach fat, that's part of what stretches to make da babies.), and is often found hating on thin people.

For example:

"That girl makes me sad, because she looks like a carrot ...and like she only eats carrots."
-Sue Funke

Now, I know that a man reading this blog might think, "Oh great another blog about how women shouldn't feel bad about their bodies."


This blog is about how men should also hear the shit we think about them, so we can share the insecurity levels.

See, it's all about the equality- male or female
We're all insecure.

The difference is, a guy has to be really freakin' fat before it's a deal that he's fat.
Where as chubby dudes - Teddy bears! Adorable!

So, if weight can't be an issue, here are things that bug women and we say about you
In mean girl fashion - behind your back
I present to you Men: Things You Should Be Insecure About:

  1. Your Facial Hair - I'm pro facial hair, but it should be trimmed. There gets a point where a beard is just saying, "Meh, I didn't want to get out of bed today. I pulled the blankets up all the way to my face, and left it there in the form of my hair," as my pal Jen would say.
  2. Your B.O. -Did you miss PE throughout your entire Middle School/Junior High School years? You don't have to douse yourself in Axe, but for the love of God don't go out of the house without a few swipes under your arms. (Note: Please trim under hair arm for full effect of deodorant...seriously, you boys smell.)
  3. Your Hair - If you're balding, it's not really cute. Work with it or shave it. If you've just got widow peaking it's not so bad, but for the love of God don't shave your head if you don't have to! It looks like you're either really sick with cancer, or you wish you were really sick with cancer, or even worse white dudes - you're a skin head.
  4. Your Back Hair/ Pimples - All girls hate this. It's a major problem. You're gross.

See, the moral really is girls and boys, we're all kinda gross.

There's a lot of things we should be awkward about, and try to change about ourselves.
But, men don't get picked on enough about their physical flaws, just their inabilities to communicate.

Let's go for the flaws, ladies!
Maybe then we'll be told we just don't understand them.
Or, if they cry about it we can say, "God, you're so emotional, are you on your man period?"

For more humor on weight go see one of the most hilarious women I know's show:

A One Woman Show in Two Acts
by erica watson

Yes! Erica Watson is a FAT BITCH! But society made her this way.

Erica Watson has NEVER had an orgasm before during sex. And she's mad
about it! In Penis Envy, she explores her jealousy of male sexuality
and how it has manifested itself in and out of the bedroom. She
confesses her fear of blow jobs, meeting men in STD clinics and why
male strippers make her nervous! Can Erica and Penis's get over their
issues and become friends?

Look in the sky! Is it a bird? A Plane?'s Super Mammy! Erica
explores white America's fascination with sassy full-figured Black
women and how those media images have shaped her self esteem and
interactions with men, especially Black Men. Erica will explore how her weight
has shaped her view of the world, and how the world has viewed her shape!

Originally from Chicago, Erica Watson is a stand-up comedienne and
film/television director living in NYC.
In 2009, Erica Watson will be featured in the Lee Daniel's film "PUSH"
which is being distributed by Harpo Studios and Tyler Perry Films in conjuction with Lionsgate.
Currently Watson is starring in the 20th Century Fox theatrical
release "Dirty Laundry." She is also currently featured in two
commercials for the Oxygen Network called "Tresstify" and "Kiss &
Tell". Most recently, Watson hosted a pilot for a new reality
televison show on the Oxygen Network called "On No You Didn't!" She
was chosen by NBC to study with The Upright Citizens Brigade on full
scholarship through their Diversecity NBC Program.
Watson is also the DIRECTOR of the reality TV Series "My Model Looks
Better Than Your Model" on the BETJ Network. When she is not
performing at comedy clubs in NYC, you can catch
her hosting various events across the country.
erica watson,fat bitch,comedian,the tank,theater,comedy,bbw,black

Monday, May 11, 2009

Who Are You?

As a stand up comedian from time to time I get recognized.
I am not at all saying I should move to limos and big glasses,
but I assume the attire of any-minute-I-may-be-a-superhero
and the distinctive voice/name may play some part of people realizing they've seen me before.

Tonight on subway on my way home from a full day off,
a couple sat across from me
arguing over me.

They would look at me
and then discuss observations.

This went on for about five minutes, or so, until I was good and awkward
in the steamy subway car
until finally the boyfriend got the stones to speak to me.

"We know you."

I looked up from my dog eared copy of the Bell Jar and offered,
"Um, I'm a stand up comedian."

The girlfriend nearly lept out of her seat, "YES! You're the funky girl!"

"Yep. Sue Funkeeeeeeeee."

"No, it's pronounced Funk."

"You sure?"

"For the past 27 years or so, I've had it down pretty straight. Funk, but it's spelled F-U-N-K-E."

"See, I knew I was right," she said and walked out the door.

I'm still not sure if she was talking to me or her boyfriend about that last part.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

The Invite To Your Wedding

Hey Pal That's Engaged!

I am so enthused that you and ___ are engaged. That is absolutely not a surprise to hear. I love both of you and think it's wonderful that you are going for it. Yay, marriage!

What's that? The wedding is in _____state? How great! You'll get to be with your entire family.

I know! Parents are crazy with guest lists. You're at how many people? That is a lot.

Here's a suggestion, don't invite me. No, totally, it's cool.

It's not that I don't love you and want to be part of your special day. It's that dresses, and those gifts I'll be getting you (for engagement, shower and wedding) are expensive.

What was that? You guys are registered for all the things I can't afford for myself but desperately need? Awesome.
Those bath towels I also wanted will be a much better edition to your linen closet full of two people's sets of towels, as opposed to my Little Mermaid beach towel that I keep laundering.

In conclusion, Pal, I could not be happier for you two, except if you left me off that invite list.

I wish you nothing but happiness.

...Wait! Who else is going to be there? And you're having what served?
Good lord.
Shrimp AND Steak?
And of course an open bar....

Ya know what, on second thought, I wouldn't miss your wedding for the world. Count me in.

Note to self...stop buying food for a month. This will aid in wedding fees and weight loss.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

On the Subject of Style

People often ask me the same question, “Why are you so dressed up?”

I usually respond, “No reason.”

But really, there are a lot of reasons and I just don’t want to bore you in passing conversation.

No, I’ll save that for my blog.

So here is a list of reasons why I am “So dressed up”:

1. Look Cute Every Day – My great pal, Erica Watson told me about two years ago that her resolution was to not leave the house unless she looked cute.
My immediate response was, “but that’s really hard. Some mornings I just don’t care.” This is why, Erica explained, we needed to go shopping in the jewelry district.

That’s when Erica took me to a magical place in midtown where I bought all the cute jewelry you see in stores, but they were all about $1 - $5 apiece. From this point on, I just threw on a piece of jewelry to a bland outfit and looked like I cared a heck of lot more about every outfit.

2. Dress for the Job You Want – After about two years of working at an internet company the “Awesome! I can wear jeans and a band t-shirt every day!” wears off.

Going from office every day to comedy every night I needed something that looked like I was an editor, but also someone you wouldn’t take too seriously.
Enter: bright colored dresses.

3. I have mild IBS and other stomach issues – Here’s the sexy part boys, my stomach condition causes my tummy to over extend at times after eating. It’s kind of painful to wear jeans, and wearing elastic jeans means you’ve either gotten pregnant or given up at loving yourself (in some lady's cases, both!) So, I figured dresses would be the cutest way to go.

4. Funke Style– This is what I also like to call “Compulsive Color Matching”.

I believe I get this from my father who was obsessed with having matching outfits and was very proud of his loud colored spring pink blazer which matched his salmon pants. While I like to believe I’m not as ridiculous about it as him, I do have a need for my clothing to match and found it easier to do so using dresses and skirts rather than pants and shirts.

It’s weird, I know this. I never promised you a normal. I mean, come on, it’s Funke style.

5. No One Notices the Bitchy Mood of the Cute Girl – This is a trick I learned when I was working at Starbucks. On days when I was mad, I’d put my hair up in pigtails and be as bitchy as I wanted, and customers would remark how funny or “cute” I was. It was then I realized that if you felt like shit, were in a bad mood, or just hated everything a particular day – all you have to do is put on some make up, brush your hair, and put on a pretty dress and suddenly everyone finds you pleasant as you tell them to piss off.

So, that is why you may see me dressed to the 9’s on a Monday morning at work, or at a Wednesday night comedy show, or on a Saturday morning at McDonald’s. I have my reasons for looking really nice, and there probably not ones you’d expect, so that’s why I’m typically answering “no reason”. But really, I guess I should be answering, “neurotic, weird reasons.”

Sunday, April 19, 2009

All the Single Ladies, Now with More Sue Funke

To answer a couple of reader's that actually took the time to email and ask
(You're so sweet!...and apparently bored.)

Yes, I'm single again.

There are no plans of online dating, for that kind of killed my self esteem.

There are plans of having great times with my friends this summer, working on a bunch of writing projects, and drinking white wine on my balcony.

All is well, and me and the mr. parted pals.

Thanks for asking, and to that one dude that asked, no that doesn't mean I'll consider moving to Bombay.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

The City

As a kid in Long Island, we would refer to hitting up the main strip of Garden City, "going to town". You would go into town to see the little boutiques, pick up a book at the library, go to the butcher, see your pals, walk around aimlessly while your parents food shopped.

The City on the other hand, was New York City. That was where you went on special shopping trips for dresses, or to fancy dinners, class trips to museums, weekend escapes to crazy galleries or shows.

Growing up like this gave me a very different perspective of New York City than my friends who I have made who moved to New York City have.

People come to New York City to be where the magic is made. Movies, big deals, big apples. It's all quite a grand allusion of opportunity and challenge.

Meanwhile, I'm just here because when I graduated college I had a job here. It's not where I pictured myself living when I "grew up".

If you asked me when I was little where I would live, I would tell you a house. I would've told you I was going to be a Mommy by the time I was 24, and I would've told you about the three dogs I'd have that would run around my giant back yard. I probably also would've said that I was going to be a writer on WKRP in Cincinnati, because I loved that show as a kid.

If you asked me when I was a teenager where I would live, I would've told you a quaint house in New Hampshire on a lake. I would've said, "I want to live and eat naturally and own a store that sells either music or organic food."

My high school boyfriend used to dream of us living in New York City together and I would have no part in his projections. "Dude, the city is gross and dirty. We go there all the time and it's just all stress. I need the mellow country life."

Today, if you asked me where I would live, I would have to say New York City. Partially, because at this point I know nothing else. I mean I travel occasionally, but I always find myself longing for the various creature comforts of NYC.

Where else can you have a convenient subway system, amazing pizza, the greatest shows, and the smell of street vendor peanuts on a cold day?

I think if I had to chose other places to live, I probably could, but ultimately, The City has become my city.

Sunday, March 01, 2009

Everyone's a Critic!

I just posted this recipe on my blog.

The Google Ad that popped up next to it:

"Irish Recipes"

Thanks a lot Google.

All I can think of is that Denis Leary bit:

"I was in Barnes & Noble the other day, I saw a book entitled 'Irish Cuisine,'
and I nearly laughed my balls off.
Irish Cuisine?! What are we famous for cuisine-wise?
We put everything in a pot and we boil it for seventeen and a half hours straight, until you can eat it with a straw.
(mimics slurping through a straw) Thanks, Ma. Where's dessert?
Okay, there it is.
(mimics slurping through a straw)
Thanks, Ma!
It's not a cuisine, folks. That's penance."

Make Yourself a Meal for $5 in 10 minutes

What you'll need:

Generic Mac and Cheese
Frozen Spinach
Frozen Corn
Ground Beef (buy a small package, like 2 hamburger patty worth at most)

1. Place the water on high heat to boil
2. Mix spices into chop meat - I used Garlic Powder and Italian Seasoning, but whichever seasoning you prefer with your meat is fine.
3. Brown the meat
4. Thaw spinach by putting it in a bowl with hot water
5. Cook corn in microwave (tiny pat of butter if you'd like on this in lieu of water, take the bit of butter you use here off the 1/4 cup you put on the mac and cheese)
6. Put pasta in boiling water
7. Dry the spinach by squeezing it in a strong paper towel (not super dry, but just to get some of the moisture out.
8. Mix corn, meat and spinach together in a big bowl
9. Drain pasta, return it to the pot with the butter and milk and cheese packet
10. Mix fully mixed Mac and Cheese into the big bowl (see step 8 if you don't get what I mean here)

Enjoy this bangin' cheap mixture of food.

New Video!

Recently, I taped a show at Gotham Comedy club.

It was a really fun show and two of my awesome co-workers showed up with their beaus. Thanks to them and all the people who made this video possible.
(Arthur Carlson edited for me - meaning put my name on it and uploaded it to YouTube- big thanks to him for that!)

Monday, February 16, 2009

Valentine's Day 2009

I had the flu this Valentine's Day. I had not been out of my apartment for a two days, missed my sketch group, The Ultimate Experts show, and was still in a pretty good mood.

Well, a better one than my bitter 2007 counter-part.

And a non-comedy one, unlike my equally angsty 2008 counter-part.

No, this year was indeed different because I have a boyfriend.

He's a very nice man, that I speak of sparsely here because, well it's weird to talk about in blog format.

What I will say is, he treats me very well.
Here's the picture of this year's Valentine's.

Even though we had to skip the fancy meal and have shitty take-in, we had a pretty great time and no Hallmark's were exchanged.
Take That Establishment!

The tulips were "get well flowers", the roses and bear were part of the present I had to wait and open at midnight.

If that's all too cute for you, well thinking of my hacking cough from the flu.
See, now it's just gross.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Behold, the Power of Bisquick

This blog may also be tittled,
Things I Learned in Home-Ec That Stuck With Me

In the early 90's seventh graders at Garden City Middle School had electives added into their schedules. You spent one quarter with four different classes:
  1. Woodworking with Mr. C (I leave out his name for his own sake, but those who had him will recall he had a rhyme to remember his name by) - We built your standard memo holder, keyholder, decorative shape hanger, etc.
  2. Art Class with Mrs. Lady from NYC Art Scene - It's awful that I can't remember her name, but I learned a lot about artists and art theory from her.
  3. Band/Orchestra/Chorus/Music Appreciation - I had band with Mr. Guido. I will print his name because he was awesome. I got detention a bunch in his class for talking. It was fun detention though because we'd look through his record collection and listen to music as he would tell me that I was a good kid, but I just had to learn to shut my freakin' mouth.
  4. Home Economics with PMS. I sh*t you not folks. The woman's initials were PMS.
PMS was a crazy teacher to have in your pubescence. It was honestly quite weird to learn about this crazy new thing that was happening to your body which is the Pre-Menstraul Syndrom, but to have a physical embodiment of it standing before you by exact initials - it was a pre-teen clowns dream come true.

She was something out of a Roald Dahl book. Tall and lean with smokey glasses and voice. A stern woman that would lurk about the classroom.

And my peers in that particular class were ones I became rather close with. Four of us in particular were thick as theives, all of us named Susan. Three of us went by the name Sue, and there was one girl who went by the name Susan. None of us liked to be called Susie, and I was often referred to as Funke. This was not just because I had the distinct last name, but I am also the youngest of four children. The three of them had also had the honors of learning via PMS.

As in most American home economic classes you have to learn several different skills. There was sewing, which I picked up on quickly because I was counter cross stitching at young age. (Really, in the 1980's people still did that. Now there is probably a video game where you can virtually cross stitch your heart's sayings.)

The sewing test was to make a sweat shirt. You were allowed to pick out the color, but everyone had the same fabric. This was the standard test everyone had every year. This resulted in sibling spectrums of mishapen boldly colored sweatshirts for generations of Garden City families.

The cooking portion was the one that PMS was the most empathic about. She made it clear that you had to learn to cook. For it was not just your grade that depended on it, it was also your life. This was not so much taught to us, but drilled into us by PMS. Her creepy coarse voice would dictate to you how to cook basic meals.

(I must've missed how to boil an egg, because for the life of me I can not carefully drop an egg in water without breaking it. It drives me NUTS. )

Anyway, the one lesson I do recall, that I believe each and every one of her students probably never could forget- was Bisquick.

See in PMS's book of home making, Bisquick is what you want to have on hand whereever you may live in life. Bisquick is the end all-be-all/ace-in-the-hole of food. I am positive of this because the Sue's and our male counterparts in the class (one of which I had been friends with since I was 2, then there were the two Brians I became best pals with that year, and the third I ended up dating for 9 years.) made it a game of making PMS recite to us just exactly how versatile it was -

Student, Most Likely Named Sue
Could I make pizza with Bisquick?

Of course! You can use Bisquick for the crust! All you need is water, sauce and cheese! You've already got the base, Bisquick.

What about a burger?

You can make the buns.

What if all I have is water? Can I make anything with Bisquick then?

You can make dumplings.

What if all I have is a rusty nail, a magnifying glass, Bisquick, and a dream?

You can stay after for detention.

We made about ten different dishes with Bisquick. Each one was proceeded with the lesson that Bisquick is versatile, and that it must be measured PRECISELY. PMS would give us a recipe, then she'd walk through it, then we'd have to make it by ourselves in a team of 5.

Maybe this is why I love Top Chef, because in Middle School we had our very own bake-off's and were judged harshly. Except I don't really feel like Colicchio could hold a candle to PMS.
No, really, he wouldn't be able to do it. She's that creepy.

Did I mention she had a name plate with just her initials? It was like she was giving the joke away, seriously.

As ridiculous and bizarre as the woman was, today I as I enter into my new apartment and do my first self shopping trip as an adult - I found myself writing Bisquick at the top of my list.

At first, it was just for pancakes. Then, I found myself wanting a bisquit with my soup, so I threw some Bisquick and water in a pan.

Now, not even an hour ago I found myself craving cookies. Unfortunately, I knew this craving would come and diet-minded Sue did not purchase dough, or a quick mix. But what diet-minded Sue did not count on was the wiley cunning skills of the cookie craving mind. For, I looked up cookies by scratch online, and when I came up with no baking soda or powder (For Shame!) I realized - I had the Bisquick.

I then remembered PMS standing there in her revelry, "If you add spices to the Bisquick it picks up the flavor quite easily."

Bam! Homemade cookies that are fluffy and ridiculously good in 20 minutes were born.

Funke's Bisquick M&M Cookie Recipe...all of this is approximate, I was winging it as I was mixing it
-1 1/4 cup sugar
-2 tsp of vanilla
-2 tsp of cinnamon
-2 eggs
-1/3 cup of butter
-1 1/3 cup of Bisquick
-Handful of M&M's

The only problem, Bisquick is so freakin' heavy. I had like three cookies and can still feel them.
Was it worth it though?
Um, hells yeah.

So, whereever you are PMS thank you for your ridiculous love of Bisquick. And the weird characterization of PMS.

I think I'm going to try dumplings tomorrow. :)

My Apartment, is a very very fine apartment...

With the N train across from the balcony....

Yes. I do have a balcony.

Yes. I'm serious it's right across from the N train.

See, that's the train going by my balcony.

And this is me writing at my desk in reflection of the sliding doors.
Those are my hunter green curtains. You can also kinda see the Queens skyline I look out upon.
It's lovely.

Sure, it's a little noisy.
Sure, I live across from a person who complains that my TV is loud.
(My response, "You are aware of the elevated train that's right next to my thin wall, right?")
Sure, the heat isn't always turned on when it's below 30 degrees and that kinda sucks when you have the flu.
But it's all mine.
and I lerve it. (bottom definition for those that are not familiar...I'm talking to you Jennifer. Watch Annie Hall already!)

Things I Make Myself

So, now that I'm living alone I've been making more meals for myself.
Partially, because I need to save, but mostly because I love cooking.

And baking! I've baked three times since I've moved. Brownies and cakes - all from store bought packets...
but my mother is donating her old mixer to me.
So, look out! I have a feeling cookies are a month or so away.

The cooking is getting out of hand though.
Nothing is simple anymore.
See, I live right by a bakery and this made me think one thing:

So, when I had the flu I didn't just have chicken noodle soup.
No! I had Campbell's Select Chicken Soup in a bread bowl.

And just now, I went to make myself some tuna.
But I was like, I don't just want the mayo and tuna on toast.
I want crackers and tuna. I want to make it a dip.

This is what I ended up making:
Sue Funke's Impromptu Tuna Dip
1 can Tuna in water
1 1/2 tbsp of Reduced Fat Sour Cream
1 scallion chopped
2 shakes dried garlic chopped
1 shake pepper
1 shake garlic powder

Stir ingredients together and serve with reduced fat Cheez Itz

I even plated that for myself.
Apparently, this is how I nest.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

First Entry of 2009

Here's an idea of how 2009 is going for me:
I just spent an hour writing an entry about how I haven't been able to write due to a recent apartment hunt
- and it was deleted.

Sadly, I don't have time to write the fun update I hoped for.

Here's the slapdash rundown:

-My roommate, Pink, and I are parting ways for a warmer more convenient to work locations.
Our heat hasn't worked in our rail road apartment which has made the place a wine tunnel of freezing misery the past month. The apartment is also 2 and a half avenues away from the train - which in the teen degree cold is getting unbearable to trek home to.

I've been booked on a lot of shows this month so the only blog I've updated was my show schedule -shameless link-plug-, I haven't even had a chance to update I Love TV More Than You either -link to un-updated blog-.

I've been spending my days working a ton at the office job.

My nights were spent apartment hunting in snow, sleet, and freezing temps. This was just about the most miserable time ever, but it ended with a place I think I'll be quite happy in.

There's a lot I could catch you up on:
-The crazy hunt for the apartment stories
-The new man in my life
-The fact that I haven't smoked a cigarette since March 15th

But I have to finish writing a sketch for the next Ultimate Experts show (email for reservations for the February 13th 10pm show) .

It's a Valentine's Day theme, so I'm trying to write a sketch along those lines... and get to bed at decent hour lately so I don't catch the deadly cold that circulates amongst co-workers in my office.

So, I'll leave with this for now: