Friday, January 1, 2021

EAT ME

End of year reviews for 2020? Who would endeavor such a thing? There’s been way too much crazy stuff for one pithy catch-all list.

I spent most of 2020 thinking they will one day write volumes about the time warp of a calendar year; the year that felt like 20. And then I realized, the books on 2020 have already been written. No, not Nostradamus. That scamp never saw murder hornets coming. 


No, the books on 2020 were written by Lewis Carroll and are our childhood cherished stories of Alice in Wonderland.

Do you know a lot about Alice in Wonderland? Well, buckle up, you will.


The year 2020 IS Alice and Wonderland. It is a world of absolute nonsense. There was some scary stuff, but mostly just a lot of really weird sh!t. 


We are all Alice. Bored with our humdrum existence as it was on December 31, 2019, curiosity led us into the year that no one saw coming. No one, except Lewis Carroll, of course. Cast your mind back to the monotony of 2019. Miss it? Me too.


We have all fell down a rabbit hole in 2020. For me, it was Chris Evans’ dick pix, but for you it could have been fascism or sourdough bread or …. Ok, it was probably his dick pix for you too.

The key is zooming in...

We’ve been drinking potions at an alarming rate. 

It says "drink me" It would be rude not to

Alice can’t go through a door and then cries a pool of tears. Relatable.


Don't go outside? OK, I guess?

Alice meets the Dodo and asks him for help. The Dodo is in a “caucus race” (that’s what it’s actually called in the book!) where a bunch of characters that only appear in that one part all run around in circles with no clear winner… Y’all remember Iowa??


Can we even name all those candidates now? 

Donald Trump Jr. and Eric are Tweedledee and Tweedledum… not that they featured that heavily in the year, but I never miss an opportunity to call those two Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

It's uncanny


Alice goes into the rabbit’s house, finds something to eat and she grows to the size of the house. I’ve yet to find the cake that will make me smaller, but not for lack of trying... donuts don't work either, and I've tried those several times.


The Dodo suggests burning the house down with all their stuff inside, which is a tight analogy for leaving the Paris Climate Accord. You might not remember when he tries to burn the house down. You also might not remember the Australian Wildfires, but they both frighteningly happened. 


Yes, climate change is overwhelming, but maybe still "try" to do something?

There are the flowers that seem sweet when they think Alice is one of them, but then turn when they find out she’s different… the Karens.


I find the Karen thing funny, but my name is Lindsey... and not caring because it doesn't affect me personally, is kind of peak "Karen"


The states that legalized weed are the Caterpillar. New Jersey’s like, "Who R U? F this, we’re getting high!“

People were eating bits of mushrooms to bring them up or down… you guys, Lewis Carroll predicted microdosing!

Actual pic of Chris Christie on vacation

Oregon is the Cheshire Cat… "Weed isn’t going to cut it, we’re legalizing ALL THE DRUGS. We will get so high, all you can see is our smile."


We got your anarchy right here

The tea party guests wished us “a very merry unbirthday,” because what was time anyway? No one knew the date, so celebrate that!

Is it March-ember yet?

Brexit was the dormouse at the tea party: drunk and passed out in the teapot, and we had all forgotten about them already.


The March hare is the whisker I lived with the entire month of March because I was too depressed to pluck it.


The Mad Hatters -Hmmm, can you think of any mad hat wearers? I think it refers to the MAGA hats, although Rudy Giuliani is mad as a hatter, so there’s room for interpretation on that one.


At least this guy is smart enough to avoid the hair dye

At the tea party, they screamed “no room! no room!” That’s basically how we felt when the murder hornets showed up. Tell the fire tornadoes and toilet snakes that there is no room for more craziness in 2020. UFO sightings and locust swarms are enough.


The Nevada votes are the white rabbit… “I’m late, I’m late!” The white rabbit carries a pocketwatch, but Nevada is known for not having clocks in their casinos, so of course they were late.


Place your bets on blue

The Queen of Hearts is Covid 19… the evil looming presence that isn’t always seen, but is the cause of most of the bad stuff. It does what it wants and ultimately, it wants to kill us all.

No way but MY way

There’s a White King, because in 2020, of course there is.


Read the room dude

The playing cards are the loyal staff of the leader. They screw up and plant the wrong roses. Then they spend all their time, year round, painting the white roses red, or as I like to think of it: Four Seasons: Total Landscaping. This one has the unique distinction of being funnier in real life than in the story. Guys, they booked the Four Seasons - Total Landscaping. I just wanted to make sure everyone still remembers.


They booked the Four Seasons-Total Landscaping!


There are trials that are a farce (the impeachment) and others that have no legal grounds (the election ones).


The Queen’s favorite pastime is croquet. You might also call croquet: terrible golf, which is undeniably what Donald Trump plays… and played over 30 times while 2020 was raging. Sure, there is room for the comparison to Nero fiddling while Rome burns, but one literary analogy at a time people!!

Maybe flamingo clubs would help his game?

Steve Bannon got banned from Twitter for saying “off with his head” about Dr. Fauci. Which seems a little too on the nose, but Bannon has never been known for his subtlety.

They kind of look similar too, on a bad day for the Queen


I’m not sure if this analogy means I’ve done too many drugs or that I need to do more drugs… I think both are true at the moment.


Lewis Carroll, it should be noted, was allegedly a bit of a Jeffrey Epstein of his day. No, he wasn’t murdered… I mean the other Jeffrey Epstein thing, enabled by wealthy benefactors to continue his questionable relationship with children. And while Epstein didn’t make it to 2020, his story was consumed along with many others as we sat on our couches with our “curiosity.” Curiouser and curiouser. I mean, the Tiger King does sound like a character from the book that simply didn’t make the final edit.


Interestingly enough Charles Dodgson, pen name Lewis Carroll, died from pneumonia following influenza… guys, he died from flu! 


And we’re all sitting here just like Alice, wondering when someone is going to wake us the f#$k up already!


So wake me up when it's all over

“So many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that Alice had begun to think that very few things indeed were really impossible.” - FAKE NEWS!


And that's just when I'm checking Twitter

Tuesday, December 15, 2020

2020 Ironic

2020 has been a year. A wild, crazy ride of a year.
So I made this.

                                                                            2020 Ironic

link here

If you like it, please feel free to share with someone you think might also like it.
Thank you for your support.

We'll all get through this together.


Friday, December 11, 2020

App-y Birthday!

Instagram celebrated its 10th birthday recently. Double digits!

As a mother about to celebrate her own child's double digit birthday, it's easy to see the social media apps as true representations of their ages. 

Sometimes our real life kids require we stimulate our brains elsewhere, and for that, we are grateful to our surrogate children: social media apps. 

Twitter is 14 and that makes perfect sense. Twitter is such a moody young teenager: over-emotional, picking fights over nothing. They say inappropriate things and then claim not to know better. They do one thing right and want you to celebrate that and overlook all the times they do nothing. And their algorithms (inner workings) are super confusing, change daily and are the key to their happiness and the happiness of those around them. They act like they don't want to be noticed, but all they want is for everyone to like them.


Facebook is 16, the even more moody, sh!ttier older sibling of Twitter. Facebook thinks they know everything, but really they're just repeating BS they've heard through a friend of a friend that isn't even true. They stir the pot and take no responsibility for the trouble they cause. They want to be both fully supported yet fully independent. They will claim moral integrity, but will actually do anything for money. Britney Spears sang she was “not a girl, not yet a woman.” Facebook is not a technology platform, not yet officially a media monopoly. But congrats on destroying democracy... keepin' it 💯 


Instagram is the self-involved 10-year-old who thinks their entire life is worth sharing. Visually they have their act together. They are older, wiser and cleaner than their younger siblings, and younger, fitter and more pleasing than their adolescent siblings. They want to make you happy and will sometimes resort to cheap gimmicks to do so. If they do something for you, they want to be compensated. Your affection goes a long way, and the absence of it can be destructive.


Pinterest is the 10-year-old "artsy" one. They probably have undiagnosed OCD, which presents in their hyper-organized manner and attention to detail. They are the most creative and have great ideas, but aren't fun to be around because any deviation from their original perfection they deem a “FAIL.” They have the best birthday parties and their goodie bags are the stuff of legends.


Snapchat is 9. They always seem to have a lot of new, weird tricks that entertain for 5 minutes before they get boring. When they do something cool, you'll never see it again. 


TikTok is the toddler sibling from dad's new girlfriend. Like most toddlers, TikTok takes mildly amusing things and repeats them over and over again until they're funny, and then until they're annoying. Fun to play with, but will suck you in for hours and report all your personal info back to their creator to be used against you at a later date. 


Only Fans is the baby of the bunch. Thirsty, messy, dirty. Only for the true fan, most of us can't be bothered to look after it. Loves to take off their clothes... there are a lot of body parts and bodily functions on constant display.


My Space is the older sibling from a different marriage. They once seemed cool, but aren't around much anymore. Still out there, you will randomly hear about them once in a while. They have been fighting for relevance for over a decade, but will settle for acknowledgement that they were the original.


LinkedIn is of legal age now and considers themself the mature one. Networking is their whole life, and one day all that hard work will be worth it. Bore off!

A warning to parents: the more time you spend with these "children," the more you will ignore your own.

#blessed #parentlife #neverchange #hashtag #morehashtags #stillmorehashtags #whysomanyhashtags





Tuesday, August 18, 2020

Life, the universe, and everything

I just completed another trip around the sun. Not really a dazzling achievement, but one which I will reflect on in my own self-indulgent way.

They didn't used to be so exhausting, so physically draining, so emotionally consuming. In my defense, I was busy doing a lot more than simply "aging" this past year. 

I read two books. That fact could be more embarrassing than the accomplishment it felt like given I have owned both books for well over a year. That is why my library card goes under-utilized... oh the fees! (and the funny smell of the pages). But I did it. Hurray for escaping into a good book. Now there are two more items in the piles of stuff around my house of things I am unsure what to do with. (yes, I will donate them eventually... four years, tops). 

I was busy trying my best not to ruin my children for life. This was not necessarily a successful endeavor. Only time will tell, but I would guess it's nothing a few years of good therapy can't help. For the record, my "best" counts as what I have to give and I used most, if not all of it.

I was busy continuing my attempt to make the people around me laugh, and also widening that circle of people to include more strangers and members of the general public. Also not necessarily a successful endeavor, but for some reason continues to be fun. It makes me feel good more than it makes me feel bad, which is more than I can say about running. 

Running, another thing I tried to do more of. Not exactly sure why, since my body does little in the way of tone and tighten these days, but for a few months those runs were all of the "me" time I got. Me time, more like meh time... ammiright??!!* (*example of jokes I tell in front of other people. To be clear, I said it's fun for me, I didn't say how anyone else felt about it).

I was busy baking treats and eating some truly lovely things. Baking is one of the many things I learned from my mother and one of the few things I have to give to my children. Pro tip: when you don't have the emotional fortitude to reckon with life's difficulties, kill some time making the house smell like butter and cinnamon and then bribe them with the sugary results.

Prior to the world shutting down, we went on a bunch of fantastic trips: England, Barcelona, Austin, England (again!), Park City, Maine. That list is either a pathetic attempt at a humble brag, or a partial list of things we can't do and won't be able to do again for the foreseeable future. Ah, good times. 

For the past five months, I have traveled only in my mind. I have been a prisoner of my own lovely life. A life I was rather enjoying before the world turned upside down (yes, I've also been busy watching a lot of Hamilton). A life I have continued to enjoy at random intervals between the anxiety attacks, stress eating sessions, eliminating all contact with the outside world, re-engaging with the outside world, Netflix binges, suicidal ideations, Amazon sprees, guilt for the stress eating because so many people don't have enough to eat, home-schooling meltdowns (both mine and theirs), feeling like a prisoner in a very nice apartment, forgetting how to socialize, overwhelming concern for people I have never met, daydreaming about donuts, heightened sense of impending societal doom, and a few paper cuts thrown in for good measure (one while squeezing a lemon, which felt like the most accurate depiction of the exact moment in history it occurred in). 

That has been the life on this most recent passage around the sun. 

But there has also been love. Most notably the unbending and (at times shockingly) consistent love and support from the person who chose to spend his life with me, and whom I would have easily understood wanting to change that decision at any point, but for some reason doesn't. I feel loved which makes it possible for me to love. I love him more than I love donuts.

There has been light. In between temper tantrums and meltdowns and crying fits (mostly mine), my children have provided some levity. I have learned a lot. Mostly that they scream at each other a ton. My big takeaway is that I probably have the condition: misophonia and will simply have to learn to live in a constant state of anxiety around my own children... but I'm pretty sure that condition greatly overlaps with another condition known as parenthood, so I'll be fine. Sometimes I make them smile though, and it rights the ship and reminds me of my own capacity for love and why I love making people smile, specifically those two tiny people.

There has been laughter. Turns out I can make more than just my immediate family laugh. I can make my close friends laugh too. And in one of their words: "I thought it was going to be awkward and terrible, but you're actually pretty funny, kind of like a real comedian."

There has been family. Even though there hasn't been a lot of in-person time with our entire family recently, the connection is always felt. Together, we miss each other as if the act is enough to bring us together somehow, at least until we can be together again.

There have been great meals (and some sh!t ones too), but... so many meals shared and increased family time that I will choose to overlook that we probably relied on pasta a bit too much, and rather just focus on celebrating that we had that time. 

Remember all those trips? A lot of fun times and great food with dear friends. Did I mention the laughter? Well, it is what has sustained me this year, and fortified me to enter the next one, so probably best to mention it again.

42: the answer to life, the universe and everything. It was. I think I get it. The answer is not actually knowing everything... it is simply knowing that. That is the answer because I feel the weight of it. All of it. The weight for myself, for my family, for my community, for my country, for the world, for humankind. The weight of not knowing what's going to come, what will become of our health, our livelihoods, our love, our laughter, our humanity, our empathy, our ability to care for one another, to see good in others and to bring out the best in each other.

I don't know what the next journey around the sun will bring. I will carry with me the things I loved about this past one and prioritize them above all else: above the noise, the drama, the pain. 

Another year of life is cause to celebrate, so today I will celebrate. Tomorrow I will continue to search for ways to make it all a bit better, the way that the people I have let into my life make it all a bit better for me. At the very least I will continue to search for a way to help people smile while we tackle the undertaking of healing this world. All while continuing to search for good donuts.

Sunrise, sunset... 



Sunday, March 29, 2020

Whatcha doin?

Hello friend! I hope this post finds you well, safe and secluded somewhere with an abundance of toilet paper and whatever essentials you need.

First, an apology: I haven't been posting so much because I have been performing jokes live on stage for handfuls of people at a time. Fun, but that means I haven't been writing here regularly.

I don't want to neglect you, my true OG audience. However, transcribed jokes rarely work.
So, what can I share with you?

Well, I have been keeping myself busy in quarantine making videos with my friends and family.

Here's a video starring my kids, because they were the only cast I live with and could get last minute and free*.

A (lack of) Space Oddity



Please enjoy. Please stay home. Please stay safe. Please wash your hands. But most importantly, please stay home.

See you soon!




*They were well fed on set.

Saturday, April 27, 2019

The Crackers We Deserve

I suppose we have no one to blame but ourselves.

First they came with the shrinking candy bar sizes, and I spoke out because it wasn't just that my hands were getting bigger, the candy was getting smaller. King Size is a sham.

Then they came with the multiple sizes of rolls of toilet paper, and I spoke out, because it seemed egregious.
4 titan rolls = 874 regular rolls... no one said there would be math.

Then they came with the chocolate diamonds, and I spoke out because they spent years teaching us brown diamonds were bad, but then needed to sell their brown diamonds. #Capitalism

Then they came with this nonsense:

And here we go again.

Cheez-It, in their delectable, addictive, cheesy way, have decided that the crackers that accidentally got left in the oven too long shouldn't be thrown away in some valiant quality-control move, but rather re-branded as the cracker we've all been waiting for. This nonsense has to end.

Don't get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for the marketing folks sitting around their conference table coming up with the words "Extra Toasty." They sleep fine at night. After all, it wasn't their decision to bring this product to market. Their job is to make people want to buy it, and they are just doing their job. But let's call a spade a spade. And let's call a burnt cracker a burnt cracker.

Please note: "#1 Requested Cheez-It Flavor" refers to nothing. Paul Hollywood and Mary Berry wouldn't sample the crunch of these cheesy delights and suggest additional bake time. There is no one out there eating a Cheez-It thinking to themselves, this could have done with another minute in the fryer.

To be honest, I don't even know the method by which Cheez-Its are created. Are they toasted, as the "extra" would suggest? Baked? Fried? Do they fall to Earth pre-packaged in all their crispy square glory and the "extra toasty" is a reference to global warming and the increasing effects of the sun's UV rays?

I don't have the answers. I only have questions. The main one being: do they really think we're dumb enough to fall for this?

*Checks state of the world*

Ah, um, I see. Well played Cheez-It.
Nevermind.


Sunday, October 7, 2018

Annie are you OK?

As a parent in 2018, I have to teach my children that the world can be a soulless, spirit-crushing experience, particularly for women, people of color and those in the LGBTQIA community.  But for one afternoon, I chose to avoid all of that by tuning out for a while and watching a movie together, a classic from my childhood. A movie about hope and love and the dawning of a new day because, the sun will come out tomorrow… or so I thought.

This is the story about the afternoon I watched Annie with my daughter and realized that Annie, the original movie of my childhood, did not age well.




Open on Annie singing about parents she doesn’t have: 
“Mom, where are her parents?”
“She doesn’t have any.” 
“Why doesn’t she have parents?” 
“Cause she’s an orphan.” 
“What’s an orphan?”
Any fellow parent will tell you, when we put on the TV or a movie, we do so because we don’t want to “work.” We aren’t looking for teachable moments or engaging in character forming conversations. We want 90 minutes to zone out and possibly doze off. Not even five minutes in and I know I’m in trouble here.

Back to the filthy children living together in an orphanage, being beaten and doing manual labor. Ok, this actually could work in my favor. Maybe the next time I ask her to make her bed, she’ll be more grateful that’s all I’m requesting.

Enter Miss Hannigan and having to explain the antics and behaviors of a functioning alcoholic. This is truly going to be a fun afternoon together.

Miss Hannigan propositioning Mister Bundles wasn’t something I vividly recalled from my childhood viewings, but my daughter doesn’t look like she will forget it as she shrinks a little into the couch next to me.

Enough of the child abuse, for now… how about a little animal abuse for the folks at home. Enter Sandy being abused by some neighborhood scamps. And then a song about Sandy being dumb, cause hey, we called people dumb back then and it was fine. To my daughter, it was the equivalent of Annie calling Sandy a mother f#cker. We don’t throw dumb around in the same way in our house and she seems shook. Note to self: definitely not ready for Old Yeller.

Back to the orphanage. I’m concerned that Miss Grace Farrell doesn’t seem at all concerned by Annie being locked in a closet. A quick tug-of-war with Annie as the rope ends with them headed to the Warbucks mansion, so I guess that bit of physicality is OK?

Enter Punjab and the Asp, the bodyguards of Oliver Warbucks, and two distinct, offensive cultural stereotypes personified. First, Punjab is an offensive name. Second, he’s played by a Trinidadian man. Third, he seems to possess magical powers that I can’t put my finger on, but seem problematic on their own. But he tamed Sandy, so everyone seems cool with it.

Oh, Annie thinks she’s being brought in as free labor (read: a slave) ha ha ha! That’s funny to everyone. Slavery: making people laugh since the Depression. 

Oliver Warbucks returns home with some gems I look forward to explaining later: “everything’s urgent to a Democrat” “orphans are boys” and his rage-throwing of the photographer’s camera. I think my petty slamming of cabinet doors when I’m angry is looking good in comparison. 

Annie manages to charm the old man and gets to stay. I’ve always been impressed by her street smarts and still am. Not every part of this aged poorly. The teachable moment could be: men can usually be manipulated; but really it is: take that rage-throwing of a camera as a red flag and GTFO.

Back to the orphanage where we get a few more talking points for later during the song ‘Little Girls.’ “If I wring little necks, surely I would get an acquittal” is not only an incredible rhyme for the word little, but also a sentence rich with disturbing concepts for a 7-year-old. 

Back to the mansion where a bomb comes crashing through the window. A chance to explain: amateur explosives, the Bolsheviks, and the Asp doing some heavily choreographed, and potentially insensitive faux martial arts. It’s not my culture, I can’t speak to it, but it feels bad.

Ok, here we go. Let’s go to the movies! I loved this part. The singing, the dancing, the part where Annie sits on the top of the convertible on their journey from 987 Fifth Avenue to Radio City… not exactly around the corner. I know they didn’t have booster seats back then, but a seat belt, or even just within the interior of the car? It makes my insistence on her booster seat seem ridiculous and I see her making a mental note. 

Going to the movies back then was quite the night out. Not necessarily a night filled with diversity, as the Rockettes lineup illustrates, but still quite spectacular. 

As if one movie with physical and emotional abuse wasn’t enough, they’ve managed to insert a second movie rife with issues for me to deal with. Bonus! The movie within the movie is too much, but thankfully the black and white format has disengaged her.

Back to the real movie and the mansion and some new topics to explore, like misogyny and power dynamics. Oliver Warbucks to Miss (lest we forget she’s a bachelorette) Grace Farrell: “You’re awfully pretty when you argue with me.” Followed quickly by this gem of an exchange:
OW: “Your teeth are crooked”
Grace Farrell: “I’ll have them fixed.”
OW: “I like them.”
GF: “I’ll leave them.”

But I have no time to explain why our looks should neither define us nor be changed in an attempt to gain the approval of others because we’re on to our next musical number: ‘We Got Annie.’ And we got an awkward musical dance solo for both Punjab and The Asp. Not just an exaggeration of their racial and cultural stereotypes, the music played over each is offensive in its own right.

Annie and Mr. Warbucks have a “man to man talk” where Warbucks shares his life story… spoiler alert: it’s dark AF.

Non sequitor, as this isn’t really problematic in our current landscape, but I can’t help thinking that a ventriloquist on a radio show is a strange talent choice. She doesn’t need to keep her mouth still for radio, does she? Plus, 30 years later and I still don’t know what Annie is doing when she goes for Burt Heeley’s shoes. But I digress.

Ok, back to the oversized themes for us to discuss: Republicans, The New Deal, helping people work for themselves… Actually, the FDR bit is still pretty relevant, just not necessary for a 7-year-old to sink her teeth into.

I had trouble with Tim Curry for a while and I realize this role was why. He messed me up early and it took me until Clue to get over it. By the time I realized he was Dr. Frank N Furter all was forgiven. But Rooster was scarring. 

Lily smoking in the orphanage, stealing from Miss Hannigan and lying to Mr. Warbucks… I remember all these “bad things” from my youthful viewings. Rooster knocking Miss Hannigan out, screaming “come back here you g-ddamn kid,” and then legit throwing Annie off the bridge were “bad things” I remembered, but saw, as if for the first time, through my daughter’s (horrified) eyes.

Punjab popping off his turban seems wrong, but I don’t think I’m qualified to write that think piece. I did chuckle at the irony of him quoting Buddha right before he kicks Rooster in the face, knocking him down the ladder. You’re dark Annie, but I love ya!

So, in summary, Miss Hannigan gets knocked out and gets to ride in on an elephant for the finale, with some visible sexual tension with Punjab I never noticed before. Is it getting hot in here or is it just this newly sympathetic alcoholic on an elephant?

Even the line: “I love you Daddy Warbucks” gave me the creeps this time. But that’s just me applying more modern connotations. This movie cannot handle that on top of everything else and it is the least of my concerns after watching the whole thing through.

My original memories from watching Annie as a child: great songs, fun, kid-friendly, classic all around.
My current thoughts from watching Annie as an adult with my own child: great songs but problematic all around.
I had never understood remaking a great movie, a la Footloose or Overboard, but maybe the occasional re-make is a good thing. I’m obviously not talking about Johnny Depp’s Willy Wonka. That will never be OK.