Thanks and stuff

Many thanks to those who have read and sent me comments about the first scene. Very constructive, and didn't make me cry at all! :)

For a first attempt, and for actually finishing something so major, I give myself a pat on the back. Much editing is on the horizon before the whole thing is ready to be viewed. I'll just say this - it doesn't have a happy endning.

Today's news: I'm going to audition for "Last Comic Standing" next month. Whoa. That's huge. Auditions are being held at the Houston Improv on February 22nd. I can't wait! I miss Houston! So if any of my Houston buddies are reading....we'll be driving down on Feburary 21st (Thursday), but probably won't get in until after 9 PM. Have no idea if we're going to have to camp out in front of the club, or if they will give everyone an assigned spot. But I will be there at least until Friday nite.

Are you ready for this? Not sure I am.

Alrighty.

Since I seem to have a captive audience at the moment, here's what I'm gonna do: I'm going to put the first scene of my play on here and let you guys and gals read it.

I've been going back and forth on who I should let read my play - should it be someone who knows me, or an uninterested third party? I really, really want feedback - but I really, really hate criticism. So there's the rub. And this is my very first attempt at play-writing, so the stage direction may be cumbersome, and the formatting no doubt needs improvement (it didn't translate well here anyway). Plus, all I really had to go by were some sample scripts and the plays I have read over the years. I see it all very clearly in my head, which is why I needed to write it. It's basically about me, but if you know me, you'll see that.

Constructive feedback can be sent to me at : jennisfunny@gmail.com
Please be kind.
I honestly can't tell if this is a good or bad idea, but what the hell.
So, here it is. Enjoy.

*************************************************************************************
SCENE 1

At Rise:
(JANE, A woman in her late 30's, smoking a cigarette. Stage is dark except for a light on her. She begins to rant about her life She’s bitter and jaded and has had nothing but bad experiences with the opposite sex. She is sitting down. No other characters are visible)

Jane:
My mother lied to me. (pauses to take a drag from her cigarette.)
She used to read me these fairy tale stories when I was a little girl, and the princess or damsel always got her prince in the end. (beat) But look what she had to go through to get him! Kissing frogs, poison fruits, imprisonment - was it worth it?

While Jane is talking, to her left a low light comes on. You see a woman quietly reading a book to her young daughter, approx. age 5.

Jane:
The stories made it sound so great. Someday, a handsome prince would come along and sweep me off my feet. It would be the most romantic moment ever, and our love would last for an eternity. I would forever be engulfed in happiness and slippers.

Light off Jane; light up on mother and young daughter.

Mother, reading:
And you see, sweetie, they lived happily ever after!

Young Jane:
Oh mommy, what a wonderful story! Will I meet a prince someday?

Mother:
Of course, you will, sweetheart.

(Offstage you hear a harsh man’s voice, yelling.)

Jane’s father: (Off)
Where the hell's my beer? And why isn’t dinner ready yet? Jesus, woman! If I wanted to do things for myself why would I have married you?

Mother: (smiling nervously, running hand over girl’s hair):
Of course you will.

Lights off mother and daughter. Light back on Jane.

Jane:
But you don't always end up with a prince.

Stage right, a young Jane, around 11 years old. She's sitting at a school desk writing in her diary.

Young Jane:
I have the most wonderful boy in my class. His name is Billy and he's so cute! I think likes me.

Suddenly a little boy sneaks up behind her. He puts a frog down the back of her dress and laughs. Young Jane screams and the boy runs away.

Jane:
I remained optimistic.

Stage left, 17-year old Jane. She is writing in her journal and speaking as she writes.

Young Jane:
I am so happy! I think I've met the guy I've been looking for. We have so much in common and he's such a great kisser. I think he'll be around for while.
Stage right, teenage boy making out with a girl who isn’t Jane.

Jane:
I still hadn't given up hope...

Stage left, college-age Jane, 19ish, writing in her journal.

Young Jane:
I can't believe I'm getting married! Danny is so great. I have had such bad luck with relationships all these years. Finally, I've found my soul mate! I can't imagine anything that could ruin this for me!

Lights up on Daniel, stage right, age 25, sitting in a chair, sleeve rolled up, turnicut around his left arm. He’s pulling it with his teeth and has a syringe in his right hand. He sticks the needle in his arm and makes a grunting sound.

Jane:
That did it. (pause, smoking)
My mother lied.
And this ain't no fucking fairy tale.

Stage goes dark to set next scene. Cue music: something loud and obnoxious.

Light back on Jane.

Jane:
So I was marrying a heroin addict. I didn't know that at the time I accepted his proposal, but it became clear fairly soon. They call it Florence Nightengale Syndrome, something silly like that. I should have known it would go badly.

Young Jane is getting ready for her wedding, sitting at a vanity table, touching up her makeup. Her friend comes rushing in wearing a bridesmaid dress. The friend is out of breath and looks worried.

Bridesmaid, stammering:
Do you want the good news or the bad news?

Bride Jane looks up, panicked:
What bad news? What do you mean? What's wrong?

Bridesmaid:
Well, Danny isn't here yet, and no one seems to know where he is. His brother is out looking for him now.

Bride Jane:
Oh no, no, he can’t do this to me!

Bridesmaid:
There’s more.

Bride Jane:
More?

Bridesmaid:
Your mom's pissed at you, and she smashed the wedding cake in the parking lot.

Bride Jane, crying:
What? Oh god, no! This is my wedding day! How can everything go so wrong? (beat)
So what’s the good news?

Bridesmaid: (tearing up and sniffing, in a high-pitched voice)
You look beautiful!

Bride Jane looks at her friend, puzzled.

Spotlight back on Jane:

Jane:
Well, he did show up. Hung over and an hour late. I married him anyway. The cake was a wreck, completely unsalvageable. Thanks, mom. (She stands and starts to walk slowly across the stage). I had no idea what I was getting into. In retrospect, maybe I did. I wanted to help him, I wanted to fix him. But he was screwed up way before I came along. (Pause, smoking). To truly understand the depth of Daniel’s illness – I say illness, because that’s exactly what it was, it made us both sick – you have to meet the woman responsible for his existence. Daniel’s mother.

Lights up on a middle-aged, plump woman with dark hair and glasses. She has a very sweet face and smiles a lot. Her sweet voice covers up the nastiness of the things she says. While she speaks, she is cutting up lines of cocaine on a mirror in her lap.

Mary:
Jane doesn’t know the first thing about being a wife. Her mother obviously didn’t bring her up very well, because she can’t take care of a man. I tell her, my son’s not the marrying kind. She’s wife number 4! And my goodness, she’s so young! What can she offer my son? Sex? He’ll just sleep around! But I told her, just because he cheats on her, that don’t mean he doesn’t love her. That’s just nonsense. Sex is sex and that’s all it is. Perfectly normal. Can’t keep ‘em on too tight a leash ya know. She should be sittin’ at home, waitin’ for him with a meal and a smile, not a lot of questions!

But then she went and got herself pregnant. Pregnant so young and married to my son! Good lord! What are they gonna do with a baby? She’s a terrible wife, what kind of mother will she be? I can’t even imagine that poor child, being raised by the two of them. She has no skills and he can’t keep a job. Damn junkie that he is, that’s the only thing that matters to him. Where on earth did he get such a terrible habit? It’s just a tragedy, that’s all it is, a tragedy.

She snorts a line and smiles her sweet, motherly smile.

Jane:
Do I even need to point out the irony?

She sits back down and lights a new cigarette.
Lights up on the stage. Dr. Maddy is now visible, sitting in a chair across from Jane. Jane has really been talking to her the whole time.

Dr. Maddy:
You do realize that our session is only an hour long?

Jane (giving her a dirty look):
Yes, I am aware of that, thank you.

Dr. Maddy:
So what happened to the baby?

Jane:
Miscarriage.

Dr. Maddy:
I’m sorry to hear that.

Jane:
Thank you, but I think it was for the best. I had hoped that a baby would change him, make him want to be a better person. Sadly, he just got worse after I told him I was pregnant. I left him after I lost the baby.

Dr. Maddy:
Was he in any way the cause of the miscarriage?

Jane:
Directly? No. Well, he didn’t punch me in the stomach or push me down the stairs, if that’s what you mean. But the stress did it. He never wanted kids. And he made sure to remind me of that, as frequently and heartlessly as he could.

Dr. Maddy:
I see. Did he ever hit you?

Jane:
Once. I was angry at him for bringing one of his junkie friends into my house, so we argued, and I slapped him. His immediate reaction was to hit me back.

Dr. Maddy:
Did you call the police?

Jane:
No.

Dr. Maddy:
Do you think you should have?

Jane:
Why? I didn’t really see a point to it. I hit him first. And it was the only time he ever put his hands on me. He knew better than to do it again.

Dr. Maddy:
That makes sense, I guess. You don’t strike me as the victim type.

Jane:
Thanks, I think.

Dr. Maddy:
So basically what you’re telling me is that your relationships have gone pretty badly, is that a fair summation?

Jane:
I would say that’s fair. And the guys I’ve met since the divorce are just so ridiculous. I seem to attract two types of men – the clingy and the distant.

Dr. Maddy:
Tell me more about that.

Jane:
Ok. For example, I met this guy at a karaoke bar one nite. He seemed genuinely nice, he was attractive, we had a few drinks, and the next thing I know I’m waking up in his apartment the next day.

Dr. Maddy:
I think you left out the good parts.

Jane:
Sadly, no. (beat) I didn’t expect to hear from him again, but he called me the next night for a second date. I agreed, he came to pick me up, and when I opened the door, this moron is standing there with a giant teddy bear that says “I love you” on it.

Dr. Maddy:
“I love you”?

Jane:
Yes! And I’m thinking, how can you love me? We just met less than 24 hours ago. You don’t even know me!

Dr. Maddy:
He was obviously very needy and lonely.

Jane:
Ya think? (beat) It’s ok to bring me a flower or something like that, if we’ve been out a few times, but don’t show up after one night with stuffed animals full of love. Or luggage. That’s just creepy.

Dr. Maddy:
Luggage?

Jane:
That was another guy. Never give a blow job on a first date.

Dr. Maddy:
That’s good advice. I’ll have to remember that.

Jane:
And then there are the distant ones. The ones who won’t let you get close to them, always keeping you at a proper distance. They don’t call when they say they will. They’re always late and always have excuses as to why they can’t see you.

Dr. Maddy:
You mean the married ones.

Jane: (defensive):
Not all of them were married!

Dr. Maddy:
But you’re not opposed to dating a married man?

Jane:
Of course I’m opposed to it! But I’ve been tricked before. If the guy doesn’t wear
a wedding band, how are you supposed to know for sure?

Dr. Maddy:
I suppose you really can’t.

Jane:
They tell you that they are ‘recently’ divorced, or after you’ve already slept with them, that they are ‘separated’, the divorce is almost final, it’s getting ugly and she never understood him and blah blah blah. Same song, different guy. That’s why I stick with one-niters. No drama, no bullshit, just two people who want to have a good time at that moment. (beat) But, I’ve always thought that somewhere between ‘asshole’ and ‘stalker’ is the man for me.

Dr. Maddy:
What about someone from the theatre?

Jane:
No, not possible. I have a rule.

Dr. Maddy:
What kind of rule?

Jane:
Never sleep with performers.

Dr. Maddy:
And why is that?

Jane:
Performers are needy. Attention seekers. I can’t be with someone who constantly
needs the spotlight. And no one can trump my need to get attention! Not to mention, artistic types have issues. Lots of issues. And you know, screwing people you work with always ends up badly, and then it all gets weird and awkward, and who needs that?

Dr. Maddy:
So what about just dating someone?

Jane:
Nope. I have a rule about that too. I don’t ‘date’.

Dr. Maddy:
But wouldn’t you like to have a meaningful relationship?

Jane:
Of course I would! But I’m all out of faith in that idea. You have been listening, haven’t you?

Dr. Maddy:
Yes Jane, I’m listening. And what I’m hearing is that you’re lonely and bitter. You really want to have a relationship with a man, but you’ve chosen to keep yourself guarded --

Jane:
I wouldn’t say it’s a choice --

Dr. Maddy:
-- that way, you don’t get hurt again. It’s a defense mechanism, very common and I think it’s something you can overcome. You’re a strong woman, Jane.

Jane:
I’m not as strong as you think. But I really thought this time, things would be different.

Dr. Maddy:
This time? Now we’re getting somewhere. What has happened in your life recently that led you to therapy now?

Jane:
Good question doc. That whole ‘meaningful relationship’ thing? I thought I had finally found it. But I lost him.

Dr. Maddy:
Lost him? Did you leave him parked somewhere with the keys inside?

Jane:
You didn’t strike me as the funny type.

Dr. Maddy:
Thanks, I think.

Jane:
After all these years, after all the stupidity and the heartache, I finally met someone who gets me. Someone who I feel so connected to that it’s almost painful. Someone I could truly love, for the rest of my life.

Dr. Maddy:
Sounds terrific. So what’s the problem?

Jane:
He’s in love with someone else.

END SCENE

Ahh, the 1930's.

Since you probably can't read the text of this wonderful ad, I was kind enough to type it for you:

"Day after heartbreaking day, I was held in an unyielding web – a web spun by my husband’s indifference. I couldn’t reach him anymore! Was the fault mine? Well, thinking you know about feminine hygiene, yet trusting to now-and-then care, can make all the difference in married happiness, as my doctor pointed out. He said never to run such careless risks (and) prescribed Lysol brand disinfectant for douching – always.

Oh, the joy of finding Tom’s love and close companionship once more! Believe me, I follow to the letter my doctor’s advice on feminine hygiene…always use Lysol for douching."

Are you kidding me? lol.

check this one out:

We've come a long way, baby. :)

It's an honor just to be nominated....

First and foremost - howdy to my new readers, and thanks for stopping by. I'm very happy to amuse you. Stick around. :)

So, ok, I really do like my job. I'm just surrounded by people with crappy work ethics and/or way too much drama in their lives. But I like what I do. And I'm pretty good at it, if I may say so. (Yes, Jenn, you may.) Cool, thanks. I mean, I'm not changing people's lives or anything meaningful like that, but lemme tell ya, there are many folks out there who just really need their coffee and are very thankful when you get it to them.

Since I started the job, I have been nominated* for "Employee of the Month**" - 6 times. The thing is, I've only been there for 6 months. There are others who have put in years of service and don't get recognized. I figure I can look at this one of two ways; either I'm just really, really, kickass, or, we have too many crappy employees.

Maybe a bit of both!

* I did not win, but still, 6 nominations? That's pretty cool! I am the Susan Lucci of Aramark. Ha.+++
**They do not actually call it "Employee of the Month", but as I've learned from previous employers, search engines pick up just about anything these days, so I will forego any mention of company-specific information. Thank you. That concludes today's disclaimers.

+++Wait! One more disclaimer. I didn't think of that Susan Lucci line, so thanks to Scott for that one.

OK, NOW we're done with the disclaimers. I think. Wait, wasn't there something else? Um.....no. That's it. Seriously. Ok. Bye.

Good news, Bad news

Good News: I'll be performing at the Addison Improv!

Bad News: It won't be until October*.

Good News: October of THIS year!

Bad News: It's open mic.

Sorta Good News: It's an 'invitation only' open mic, so you have to be on the list to go up.

Sorta Bad: It will be on a weeknight.

Better News: It's only $5 to get in and there will be drink specials!

(*I don't have a date yet, but obviously we've got plenty of time to
worry about that. :)

CVS, stop it!

I have decided that CVS is trying to brainwash me.

I go there a lot, for several reasons. Cigarettes are cheaper there. Prescriptions are reasonably priced. Plus, if you use your CVS card, you get nifty coupons and 'extra bucks' that you can use toward any purchase. But lately, I'm a little miffed at the coupon offers that are printing out for me.

When I buy cigarettes - they give me a coupon for Nicoderm.

When I buy chocolate, they give me a coupon for weight-loss products.

Look, CVS, if you've got something to say to me, just come out and say it! Enough with these mind games already!

My favorite thing about CVS, though, are the prescriptions. I usually wait for mine to be filled instead of coming back later, so the pharmacy guy puts a note on it to let them know I'm hanging around. They file all of the prescriptions by the first two letters of your last name. So, when I get my meds, the ticket attached to each prescription says:

"Ho waiting"

Now that's just not very nice. You don't know me, CVS!

I am Frank Grimes

One of my favorite episodes of the Simpson’s is Homer’s Enemy.

Mr. Burns sees a human interest story on the news, about a man who has struggled his whole life, who has had to work harder than everyone else, just to get by. That man was Frank Grimes, and Mr. Burns immediately tells Smithers to run out and hire him. Of course, by the time Smithers locates and brings Frank to see Mr. Burns, he has long forgotten about poor Mr. Grimes and wants to hire a brave collie as his Vice President. Moving on...

Frank Grimes goes to work at the nuclear power plant and meets Homer Simpson. He's absolutely baffled by how stupid and incompetent Homer is, especially considering that Homer is the Safety Inspector for the plant. (Accidents had tripled since Homer took the job!)

Throughout the episode, Frank, or as Homer calls him, "Grimey", goes out of his way to prove to everyone that Homer is a complete moron. But he's met by laughs and shrugs and "That's just Homer!" from everyone. Frank declares that he is now Homer's enemy. Homer invites him to his house for dinner to try and smooth things over, but seeing that Homer lived so much better than him, in spite of being such an ignorant sloth, just made him even more angry and more determined to prove Homer's uselessness to anyone who would listen. In the end, poor Grimey, in an attempt to mock Homer, was electrocuted. His last words..." What's this? 'Extremely High Voltage.' Well, I don't need safety gloves, because I'm Homer Simp..."

I am surrounded by people on a daily basis who are unintelligent, unmotivated slackers. What takes them a couple of hours to complete takes me about a third of that time. Some of these people have worked here for years, yet they have no idea how to do their jobs. I hear them giving out incorrect information; I see them making the same mistakes, over and over. And yet, they keep their jobs. And when I point these things out to management, I get a shrug and a "That's just the way he/she is."

Well that's not the way it should be. People should not be paid to be incompetent.

I am Frank Grimes.
I just hope I don't get electrocuted trying to prove it.

Happy New Year, folks. I had a very sober, very quiet New Year’s eve at home with the kids. Well, with the boy actually. The other one had plans. She has a boyfriend. I kinda miss having someone to do stuff with. But I digress.

The apartment building next to me (but not attached to my building) caught fire and burned on New Year’s Eve. They said on the news that it was a 2-alarm fire, which meant about 25 trucks and 3 dozen firefighters. Our street was shut down for hours, and it took them at least 2 hours to put out the fire. My son and I stood on the porch, just waiting for them to tell us we had to leave. But luckily, they got it under control, and everyone who was in immediate danger got out before things got really bad. No one was home in the apartments that were destroyed. I hope there were no pets left behind.

I have a new respect for firefighters. Those guys were like a machine.

That’s all I’ve got for now. I'm having dinner with Jill and her friend from across the pond tonite. I'm very much looking forward to some tasty curry. Peace and love and all that stuff.