He said, he said

As we come to the end of yet another year, I thought it would be fun to highlight some of the more ridiculous things that have been said to me by various men this year.

"When I move out of my parents' house, you can come to my place!"

"If I were 45, I'd totally be in love with you."

"I can't be around you when you're doing comedy. You get too much attention."

"Can I fuck your roommate?"

"Are they real?"

"Sorry I didn't tell you that I'm married, but hey, I'm a guy."

"Would you consider gaining back the weight you lost?"

"Go hit on that guy. I'll sit here and watch."

"So, do you own a strap-on?"

"Call me Daddy."

"I can't talk to you right now, I'm headed out on a date."

And my very favorite...."I'll let you suck it."

I could add to this list later, but that's a fun start. :)

I'm not dead and neither are the squirrels....

Good morning all. Ugh. I think I need another vacation.

An old friend of mine called me the other nite. I hadn't heard from him in almost a year! Apparently his wife told him he was not to talk to me anymore. She said I was officially dead to him.

Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.

I wonder how I died in her head? In some fiery, painful way no doubt.

I wasn't trying to steal her husband, we truly are just friends. And I warned him on several occasions that, no matter how cool a woman says she is with her husband/boyfriend/whatever having female friends, eventually jealousy is gonna raise its ugly head. He didn't believe me. And now I'm dead. Another 'told you so' moment for Jenn. :)

Yesterday my co-worker and I saved 2 baby squirrels from certain death. They had fallen out of their nest and were freezing on the parking lot ground, so we gathered them up (wearing gloves, of course) and made little leaf nests for them in the bushes. I went to check on them later and they were gone. I'd like to think that their mommy found them and took them home. Please don't burst my bubble and say that they were eaten by a cat. Thanks.

I went to open mic last nite. My confidence is back and I'm ready to start hitting it again. And to my surprise and delight, the guy who was running it has been dismissed, and a really great guy is taking over. I couldn't be happier about the change.

And I'll leave you with the "Douche Moment of the Week":

I was supposed to meet this guy from the dating site. I texted him to confirm the time and all. He texted back: "I'll have to call you tomorrow, I'm on my way to a date."

Um, yeah. No need to call me tomorrow, or any other day. Idiot.

Off to work and my stressful day. Love ya, mean it. :)

And I ran, I ran so far away.....

Jill made me run last nite.

And I liked it.

Weird.

I know I need to exercise more, so I'm getting back to the gym today. I have no dellusions of running a marathon, but I can at least run enough to get in better shape. Tread mill, here I come. Look out.

The dating site. Ugh. So far, one guy looks promising. The rest are ridiculous. One called me a 'silly goose' when I told him I don't like online chatting. How gay is that? Another is a big fat ugly old looking chef. Sure, he can cook, but I wouldn't be able to eat and look at him at the same time. And another guy says he's 5'3" - which in reality means he's 4'11". Sigh.

Death and moving on

One of our patients died over the weekend. He was a cantankerous old man, cranky and mean most of the time. He had been a doctor - a psychiatrist - in his younger days. At his late stages of life, he had basically lost his mind. His memory was gone, and he required almost constant care. But he always remembered my name. Always. Even without looking at my name badge. I attribute that mostly to my boobs. Which just goes to show you - no matter how old a man gets, or how much his mind has gone, he NEVER forgets boobs.

I set up a profile on a dating site yesterday. I don't really know why. I guess I'm a glutton for punishment, but mainly I just want to see what's out there. As soon as I hit 'submit' to enter my profile into their vast database, my phone buzzed. It was the bass player, texting me. Does he have great timing or what? Awesome. His message was, "I'm not doing good, is it too late?" I knew that he wasn't referring to the time of day, so I wrote back, "Too late for what?" A few minutes later he called, crying, telling me how he wanted to be here with me and that he wanted to call me a million times but didn't know what to say and that he still had so many things to tell me and did I think his car would make it to Dallas?

Sigh.

I sure pick em well, don't I?

Within a few minutes of submitting my profile on the dating site, I started to receive messages. The first one was thus:
"I wish you didn't smoke."
Um, well, I do. Did you think that by saying this I would take one look at your profile and put down the cigarettes for good, in favor of your undying and unconiditional love?
Get over yourself, dude.
I didn't respond, but after looking at his profile, I should have said, "I wish you weren't fat and bald, but wish in one hand...."

Jim Norton is awesome.

Went to Houston to see Jim Norton at the Improv Saturday nite. I doubt that I'll ever take a road trip with my buddy Bill again, as he's a bit of a douche when it comes to who should pay for what. But the show was great. Norton is amazingly funny. I had moments where I almost fell out of my seat laughing. He signed my chest, hahahaha! He was totally cool, signing autographs and taking photos after the show.

Also, the girl who opened for him was someone I knew from when I started doing comedy at the Laff Stop in Houston. She was a waitress at the comedy club and had been doing open mics for about a year when I started. Now she lives in New York and travels with Jim Norton, all over the country. She remembered me and it was great to see her and talk about comedy. It inspired me to get back out there and stop being such a whiny little bitch.

Blog Wars and shitty open mics

Hey y'all. Good morning and stuff.

That was quite a robust discussion yesterday, eh? But overall, I love that you guys, ALL of you, read my stuff, and I also love when you make comments, so keep doing it!

Maybe I should write 'The Rules for Booty Calls'. At least that's something I know and understand. Hmm. More on this later.

I'm trying to get back my comedy nerve, so I've gone to the Hyena's open mic for the last two Wednesdays. I haven't gotten onstage, I just went to hang out and gauge my comfort level.

Last nite was a classic example of how NOT TO RUN AN OPEN MIC. So let's start with those rules:

*DO NOT start the thing after 9 Pm on a weeknite. Most of us have jobs to go to the next morning. (Yes, I said 'most'. Myself, for example. And my buddy Ross, who has to get up at 4 AM for work. Crazy!)

*DO NOT make the first two hours a headliner extravaganza! 10 comics (local pros and headliners) took up the entire open mic for nearly two hours, leaving the rest of us to beg for 3 minutes while we watched as the audience filed out and went home. By 11:15 I had already decided NOT to even try.

It's not fair to give those guys as much time as they want, and leave the rest of us to fight over the remaining 30 minutes of the nite. Seriously. I've been doing this long enough that I shouldn't even be limited to three minutes - especially seeing as how the guy running it doesn't know what he's doing. That shouldn't be my problem, or anyone else's for that matter.

If you have 30 or more comics show up to participate at an open mic, then you do what you can to make sure everyone gets a few minutes. At 2.5 hours, EVERYONE can have 5 minutes. But if you give 2 hours to 10 people...well, you do the math. It doesn't compute.

*If you see there's someone who shows up, every week, to every open mic, is always on time, or BRINGS PEOPLE, etc., then give that person a better fucking spot. Seriously. Case in point: There was a first-timer there last nite who brought at least 5 people. And when did he get to go up? Dead last. It would have been a better move to put him up in the first 15 or so.

OH my god it's so frustrating...

Also: It's a fucking OPEN MIC. It's a venue for EVERYONE - not just headliners and pros - to work out new material. I understand wanting to make it a good show, but that doesn't mean putting all the pros up first! You mix it up. A pro, a new guy, a couple of pros, an opener, a couple of newer people, a feature, etc. You alternate so that the audience doesn't expect every single person after the first 10 they've seen to be a professional who's gonna kill! Fucking ridiculous.

And as a club manager, don't you want the audience to stay and drink for the entire evening? If you put only your best people up first, the audience is gonna leave when those sets are done. It's exhausting to sit thru, to be honest. But if you alternate the line-up, and put some of the 'pros' closer to the end, you at least ensure that those people who came to see a specific comic are going to stay for more of the show.

That's my rant for the day. Maybe I'll actually do my 3 minutes next week. At least I got to see my Italian boy. The hi-lite of the evening, fo sho, even if he did cut off all of his beautiful hair. Sigh. Why don't they consult me on these things?

Da Rules

So my friend Jill, who is all kinds of awesome, and pretty much my only female friend, gave me a book for my birthday.

It's called "The Rules."

What might these 'rules' be, you ask? Well, these are the 'rules' on dating, and how to attract and snag the man of your dreams, and ultimately get him to propose marriage.

Hmph.

After reading every chapter, some even twice, it has become quite apparent to me that I've been doing this ALL WRONG my WHOLE LIFE.

But why should this be a surprise to any of us, as I sit here eternally single and pining away over someone who's completely wrong for me and frankly doesn't give a shit if I live or die?

The Rules are slightly old-fashioned: Don't talk to a man first; don't call men; don't put out on the first date. Of course, even if they are old-fashioned, they certainly do make a lot of sense. The basic premise is that you have to play "hard to get" - not impossible, just hard. Be mysterious. Don't take the lead. Let him be, well, the man. He must be the one to approach you, call you, plan the date, pick you up, and pay for the date. You must never approach him first, call him for any reason, aside from the occasional return phone call, never pay for the date, and never, ever, EVER meet him halfway. If he wants to see you, he will go to all the trouble to make it happen. And that's how it should be. I am worth the time and effort, and men like a challenge. Well, that's what the book says. They like to be the one who pursues, and by approaching them first and asking them out, you totally take that way from them.

They even suggest setting a timer when you do take his calls. Ten minutes. That's all he gets. Why? Because it leaves him wanting more of you. They need to know that you're busy, that you have a life, and that you're not sitting around waiting for them to call. I actually practiced this on the bass player when he kept calling me, over and over. When I finally took his call, I gave him 7 minutes, and ended the call abruptly. It felt pretty damn good. Not that I expect this to work on him, as I'm convinced that he is a lost cause. But I need to practice on every guy I possibly can.

And seeing as how I've done the exact opposite of what "The Rules" suggest, with no success, perhaps it's time for me to start trying it "The Rules Girls" way.

So guys, let me hear from ya. I won't be calling you. :)

So, yeah. The date.

Good morning blog buddies. I hate Mondays. I mean, like, really. I feel weird with the time change. I know I gained an extra hour, but I feel like I lost 5. Oh, that's right. I did.

On that date.

Ugh.

Can I just meet a guy who's not weird, creepy, old, dumb, strange, or generally not a complete gigantic dork?

The answer, of course, is no.

He's a nice guy, really. But not my type at all. I think he's much older than he says - he swears he's 43, but I think he's closer to 50. We had an ok time, but by the end of the date he was asking me to call him Daddy, which is way beyond creepy. Eww.

And, guess who called while I was on the date? Yeah, the bass player. I knew he would. He always calls when I'm with someone else. I didn't answer.

He called three times yesterday too. I didn't answer the first two, but I finally talked to him on the third call. He apologized (again) for being such a dick. He said he'd been 'meaning to call me'. Uh, yeah. I told him that it was cool, I've been busy anyway. He started to go on and on about why he didn't call and what's been going on, and I told him that he didn't have to explain himself to me - Ever. We're just friends, after all. Then he said that he had a lot of things to tell me. Yeah, he says that a lot, but never tells me anything of any significance.

I'm getting tired of being his emotional booty call.

Sigh.

I still like him, and I wish he weren't such an idiot. But I'm not sitting around waiting for him to change his mind.