Friday, February 12, 2021

Number 2... and that ain't bad

Sometimes I wish the 1997 romantic comedy Picture Perfect had been more popular. It would make my references to the movie 20+ years later a little less random.

Jennifer Aniston and Jay Mohr played unlikely loves back in what I refer to as romantic comedy's "moment." If my taste in movies is any indication, that "moment" lasted about 30 years. Sure, many plot points did not stand the test of time, like carrying around photos in your wallet in order to show people the person you're dating. But one B line plot that stuck with me was Jennifer Aniston's ad exec success when she pitched Gulden's mustard to embrace being the second most popular brand of mustard... "and that ain't bad."

Naturally the folks at Gulden's loved it. And young women everywhere learned to embrace being second best or accepting their second best attempts at love, a career or whatever may be.

From that moment on, second seemed just as good as first. Or, if not AS good, then slightly not as good, but in a way we're OK with. There's a life lesson there for sure.

Second best can be empowering. There is success in nearly making it to the top of any field. Silver medalists are medalists after all. 

But there is one place where second best does not feel as amazing, and that is in the eyes of your children.

My son loves me. I know that because he tells me all the time. He tells me he loves me when he wants some apple cider. He tells me he loves me when he wants to watch TV. He tells me he loves me when he doesn't want to take a bath. I feel loved. Emotionally manipulated, but loved.

It is hard to deny where you stand in the rankings when that same son who showers you with pre-meditated love also seemingly ignores you when it comes time to show some love.

My son had two days of school this week. This is part of a larger problem of why I (and millions of other working women) are cracking up and literally at the end of our ropes. But I'm not here to address that. Thankfully plenty of publications are doing that here, herehere, and here. I'm here because it takes so little attention and acknowledgment of all we are doing in this moment to fuel us further. My husband and daughter show their love and support in cooking, baking and giant hugs. My son... oh, my son...

My son was given two opportunities this week to work on art projects to bring home "for someone you love." The first day, he brought home a beautiful card with 3-D cut out hearts that had been colored with love "For My Valentine." Inside it read: To dad. I am obviously well adjusted enough to understand why a sweet boy would choose his incredible dad to address his first Valentine to. I chose the same man to be my Valentine after all.

On day 2, he returned home with a more intricate art project depicting a rocket and a heart. Now you are probably wondering: who does he love "to the moon and back." And you will probably not be surprised to find out that again, it was addressed: To dad.

I'm fine with it. It didn't break my homeschooling heart. It didn't crush the spirit of this boo-boo kissing powerhouse. It didn't tear at the fabric of my sandwich prepping, stain-removing, bedtime story reading, bed-making being. It's cool. As Jennifer Aniston once taught me: I'm number 2... and that ain't bad.

Ironically, or perhaps tellingly, I followed this week's events up with a comedy contest in which I came in, you guessed it: second place. Still number 2... and that ain't bad! 

So, in my best Carrie Bradshaw impression... I had to wonder: If number 2 ain't that bad, how come it feels not so good? If I didn't take so much time practicing my comedy, could I be number one in my son's heart? Or if I leaned in to being the second best parent, took the L and freed up some spare time, could I pull up my ranking on comedy contests?

The answer is no. I wouldn't want to do either of those things, partially because I am lazy and those options involve me working harder and partly because neglecting my son seems wrong. Attractive, but wrong.

I am doing OK. Things are fine. I can truly say with all my heart: I'm Number 2... and that ain't bad.

To Dad, with love


Saturday, January 23, 2021

What Time Is It??

I don't do vision boards or resolutions. I like the idea of both, but I have a short attention span and a terrible memory. I prefer to have weirdly specific things that would make me happy if one day I were to achieve them with no set timeframe, just an intention, a direction to head in if you will. 
tl/dr: I'm lazy, but with goals.

One of these goals was having a reason to make a composite flyer of "Upcoming Shows" as opposed to my usual single flyer: "My Next Show."

I have a few shows coming up in the next couple of days and in addition to wanting to promote the events, I also wanted to acknowledge that having small, seemingly insignificant goals in life can be a nice thing when said small goals are achieved. It is significant to me, and so I wanted to share here. I'm uncomfortable publicly indulging my pride, but I think of this more as event promotion versus self promotion, so stick with me on this.

Hope you can join me for one of my upcoming shows: (I've always wanted to say that!)



LIVE OUTDOOR:
Sunday, January 24, 2021: Phase II at Bustan Tickets here


LIVE OUTDOOR:
Tuesday, January 26, 2021: Penthouse Comedy in Brooklyn Tickets/Location here


ZOOM:
Wednesday, January 27, 2021: Uncle Clyde's Comedy Show at Flappers, Burbank Zoom Tickets here


LIVE OUTDOOR:
Tuesday, February 2, 2021: Meat Me Here Presents Groundhog Day at the Gansevoort Tickets here

Tuesday, January 19, 2021

For the First Time In 4 Years

It's Inauguration Day! It's Inauguration Day!

I made a video for it.

Please excuse the singing... when I grow up to be big and famous, I promise to hire professional singers to sing my dumb songs. But for now, please enjoy my Inauguration Day video.

As always, if you like it, share it. Subscribe to my channel because I think all that stuff matters and one of these days I am going to sit down and do the work to figure out why.



Thank you!

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