Dispatches from Jenn’s Netflx Queue
White Noise – Now, for the newish readers here at dejennerate, I probably should establish that there are two types of movies that can’t seem to avoid no matter how bad they look, which are:
- Movies where some random forest-dwelling psycho is hacking up oh-so-pretty teenage stars
- Movies where some ghost/demon/unlabelled supernatural being is scaring the crap out of stupid people.
Obviously this falls in the latter, and this does not bode too well for me. This is without a doubt one of the most pointless ghost stories I have ever seen. The concept was kind of cool (dead people communicating through white noise on televisions/radios/etc.) but this film was just going through the motions, if you can even call it that. Picture any horror movie series where the sequels go into the double digits. Those? Riveting compared to this movie. Every frame of film was so predictable it hurt my cranium. It was more predictable than Revenge of the Sith even though in that case you KNOW exactly what is going to happen because, well, you’ve seen Star Wars/Empire/Jedi at least once or twice in your life. And I can take a certain amount of predictability as I understand that there are only so many scare tactics you can employ in films…especially ghost stories which have been done to death…but it was so clear that no one was really even trying here. This was a cut and dry hack, hack, HACK horror film, which I knew going in, but I couldn’t imagine it could be THAT bad. Avoid it at all costs.
Even if you habitually have severe lapses in movie rental judgment and rent crap like Van Helsing. But in that case, my warning probably came too late as it’s probably in your Netflix queue.
By the way, who the hell let Michael Keaton back into the Hollywood system? Can’t we get better security fences or something? At this rate Tony Danza will be competing with Bowser from Sha-na-na for talk show ratings.
Back from Buffalo
And back on stage tonight at EVOS for All Chick Plus Kris “Loretta” Earle Comedy night. And Kris sort of/kinda/not-really-but-I-hear-peer-pressure-is-very-effective told me he might be coming in drag tonight. Which I realize does nothing for advertising, so to speak, but if you wanted a “rolling hills and daisies” Internet reading experience, you’d read Strawberry Shortcake’s blog instead, right?
And not Strawberry Shortcake, the Burmese Pole Dancer
Because there is one, you know. Probably a Blueberry Muffin too. And The Purple Pie Man just makes me think of the song Cherry Pie. Which I know is just flat out WRONG, but, hey….I’m not the one naming these toys so damn provocatively. So I spent most of the 80’s calling the video game Duck Hunt, "Fuck Cunt." Yeah, like YOU didn’t.
A milestone?
Is that my first use of “C” You Next Tuesday in my blog ever? Or at least this YEAR? Allright, so it’s probably this “week”….can’t you people let me bask in my glory for a bit? Geez.
DEJENNERATE.COM BLOG
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Fun Surprise from Parental Units
Mom and Dad surprised me with Jon Stewart’s America book yesterday. OMIGOD. If you haven’t gotten it yet, treat yourself. Hee-LARIOUS.
What I want to be when I grow up
A lot of my friends lately have been getting some pretty cool jobs and promotions and whatnot, which has made me reconsider my own career. For the most part, I am quite happy with the job o’ writing as it is rewarding and creative and aside from those pesky deadlines that people insist I make it’s fairly non-stressful. But still, I feel I need SOMETHING to strive for or else I’ll end up becoming a cold, bitter writer who releases a new chapbook of fuck-hippie poetry every six months. Yes, again, not that big of a stretch for me, but we can play make-believe, right? So I tried racking my brain to determine what I would consider the ultimate career move, my pipe dream goal…the holy grail of professions so to speak. And there is only one viable option that came to mind. Of course, I am talking about becoming a Jedi Knight.
Now, the Misogynists Contingent are probably huffing “Girls can’t become Jedis.” Well, asstwats, according to Episode 2 and 3 there are girl Jedis….sure, some have snake-like things growing out of their head, but I’m human and a very adaptable one at that. The important thing is the presence of a cooch does not eliminate one from the Jedi Order. Of course there may be some teeny, tiny problems with becoming a Jedi in this day in age. So let’s examine them, shall we.
Problems with throwing away writing career to become a Jedi
- Will have to eliminate all contractions from my lexicon, i.e. use "can not" instead of "can’t", and develop monotone speech. Also, eradicating all teachings from acting lessons will have to be completed.
- Current wardrobe will have to be donated to Goodwill in lieu of ponchos and Grim Reaper capes
- Airline security still has issues with allowing light sabers and utility belts on commercial flights
- Can only hang out at bars where the typical customer has more than two heads and dances badly.
- Scientists from BFRO hanging around you because they keep mistaking Chewbacca for a Yeti.
- In writing, I seldom have to be concerned with waking up to Count Dooku in my bedroom
- The fact that the previous point is considered a “detriment” instead of a “wahoo!” moment for a girl Jedi, as Jedis are not allowed “to love”, apparently. One Night Mongoloian clusterfucks with Sith Lords are likely also frowned upon.
Eh, maybe I should stick with writing. At least that way I have a SHOT at bending over Chris Lee on his Sith speeder, right?
Friday, May 27, 2005
Bostonians…sick of rain???? Come to the glorious tropical environment of….er….Buffalo?
This is fucking sad, folks. In order to avoid the Monsoon Mecca that has been Boston weather lately, I had to come home to Buffalo, where it is fricking glorious. BUFFALO. As in the place that does not close schools due to snow until the town is officially classified as an underground city. But this weekend? It’s the Miami of the North. I didn’t even have to wear a jacket, or goulashes, or a waterproof beekeepers suit to get the paper today. Well, fine, I wear the waterproof beekeepers suit even if it’s not raining, but that’s just because there hasn’t been any good gossip going around the building lately. I have always been known as a team player, my friends.
And bring on the tarantula piss!
Only in a little Mexican restaurant in Buffalo can I get something called Tarantula Cocktail, which is basically a fruity mix of alcohol in a fish bowl that will bring even the most seasoned scorpion bowl drinker to his/her knees. Today, this arachnid love juice caused me to stagger across the street to the bookstore and actually seriously contemplate a purchase of a V.C. Andrews book. That’s dangerous shit, folks.
This is fucking sad, folks. In order to avoid the Monsoon Mecca that has been Boston weather lately, I had to come home to Buffalo, where it is fricking glorious. BUFFALO. As in the place that does not close schools due to snow until the town is officially classified as an underground city. But this weekend? It’s the Miami of the North. I didn’t even have to wear a jacket, or goulashes, or a waterproof beekeepers suit to get the paper today. Well, fine, I wear the waterproof beekeepers suit even if it’s not raining, but that’s just because there hasn’t been any good gossip going around the building lately. I have always been known as a team player, my friends.
And bring on the tarantula piss!
Only in a little Mexican restaurant in Buffalo can I get something called Tarantula Cocktail, which is basically a fruity mix of alcohol in a fish bowl that will bring even the most seasoned scorpion bowl drinker to his/her knees. Today, this arachnid love juice caused me to stagger across the street to the bookstore and actually seriously contemplate a purchase of a V.C. Andrews book. That’s dangerous shit, folks.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
You know, “Goodbye and Good Luck” is more than adequate
As it turns out my ex-boss from the prison is moving to Arkansas this weekend. And as we’ve become friends, I decided to get her a gift and a card. The gift was the easy part….she had her paperweight from her last job stolen at the prison, so I simply replaced it with one engraved with the prison’s name and year on it so now every time she looks at it, it will bring back thoughts of light bulbs up the poop shot. So now she’ll hate me daily, but that’s OK. After all, she’s no longer anywhere near my normal perimeter. What can she do? Shoot death glances at me from afar?
Now, I don’t know if you people have been in the market for a “goodbye” card recently…perhaps a mass exodus of Jewish friends have befallen you or something…but choosing one that isn’t ENTIRELY fucking asinine is not an easy task. I generally do all of my card shopping in the kids section anyway as the bulk of my friends’ mental development stopped at about age 8, and you just can’t find a card that says “Congrats on your CAT Scan Results” with Spiderman on it in the grown-up card section. But this was my ex-boss, so I have to pick up something remotely mature and also something that was professional. And I’m here to say, this card simply does not exist as Goodbye cards appear to be limited to:
1) Cheesy ones with cartoon people sobbing in their cubicles over the loss of a cube-mate whom they’ve mistakenly been calling the wrong name since he was hired, which doesn’t really matter anyway because they thought he left the company six years ago.
- And these cards don’t really do all that well, because she’s my EX-boss. Meaning, I don’t work there anymore. So this card would be a little stupid.
2) Weird heart-wrenching shit that is only appropriate if one is getting executed in the near future. “Everyday you are not here, my heart breaks a little more….I only hope to gaze at your face sometime soon….” Are we in the 17th century, folks???? Are these people commuting from place to place by stagecoach??? Because, you know, we have planes, trains, and automobiles. If you miss someone, it’s pretty damn easy to get to them in less than 24 hours unless they are:
a) Missing – in which case, sending them a card would probably not be appropriate or prudent.
b) On the moon – in which case, they’ll be back eventually. And if you are still really missing them, try climbing up Everest and waving.
So I finally did buy one that had a nice scene on it and simply said “Good bye” on the front, and “Best of luck to you” inside. But to those thinking of going this route in the future, do yourself a favor and go for the simple “Good Luck” or “Congratulations” variety. You’ll find them much more appropriate, and there’s at least a 50/50 chance you’ll find one with Spongebob on it.
As it turns out my ex-boss from the prison is moving to Arkansas this weekend. And as we’ve become friends, I decided to get her a gift and a card. The gift was the easy part….she had her paperweight from her last job stolen at the prison, so I simply replaced it with one engraved with the prison’s name and year on it so now every time she looks at it, it will bring back thoughts of light bulbs up the poop shot. So now she’ll hate me daily, but that’s OK. After all, she’s no longer anywhere near my normal perimeter. What can she do? Shoot death glances at me from afar?
Now, I don’t know if you people have been in the market for a “goodbye” card recently…perhaps a mass exodus of Jewish friends have befallen you or something…but choosing one that isn’t ENTIRELY fucking asinine is not an easy task. I generally do all of my card shopping in the kids section anyway as the bulk of my friends’ mental development stopped at about age 8, and you just can’t find a card that says “Congrats on your CAT Scan Results” with Spiderman on it in the grown-up card section. But this was my ex-boss, so I have to pick up something remotely mature and also something that was professional. And I’m here to say, this card simply does not exist as Goodbye cards appear to be limited to:
1) Cheesy ones with cartoon people sobbing in their cubicles over the loss of a cube-mate whom they’ve mistakenly been calling the wrong name since he was hired, which doesn’t really matter anyway because they thought he left the company six years ago.
- And these cards don’t really do all that well, because she’s my EX-boss. Meaning, I don’t work there anymore. So this card would be a little stupid.
2) Weird heart-wrenching shit that is only appropriate if one is getting executed in the near future. “Everyday you are not here, my heart breaks a little more….I only hope to gaze at your face sometime soon….” Are we in the 17th century, folks???? Are these people commuting from place to place by stagecoach??? Because, you know, we have planes, trains, and automobiles. If you miss someone, it’s pretty damn easy to get to them in less than 24 hours unless they are:
a) Missing – in which case, sending them a card would probably not be appropriate or prudent.
b) On the moon – in which case, they’ll be back eventually. And if you are still really missing them, try climbing up Everest and waving.
So I finally did buy one that had a nice scene on it and simply said “Good bye” on the front, and “Best of luck to you” inside. But to those thinking of going this route in the future, do yourself a favor and go for the simple “Good Luck” or “Congratulations” variety. You’ll find them much more appropriate, and there’s at least a 50/50 chance you’ll find one with Spongebob on it.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
A look into Jenn's Comic Notebook
In flipping through just random thoughts I have written down in the quest that later I would make funny jokes about them, I came across this in my notebook.
A Jiffy Lube bathroom should never smell like Smarties.
This was probably written either
a) at 3:00 in the morning after some dream I had where I thought this combination was HEE-LARIOUS.
b) at some aftershow where I was piss-assed drunk and everything was HEE-larious.
Either way, I don't know what the fuck it means. And I'm not going to put a whole lot of effort figuring it out either.
Caution: Haywire Blogging Ahead
I'm going to be in and out with blogging up until next Tuesday because of shows and whatnot. So you OCD people who click on my site 10,000 times until I post some damn thing (Furry), please take appropriate precautions.
Give me a fricking break
Group protests Star Wars Toys at Burger King because film is PG-13
Charlie, don't eat here
Elephant attacks eatery
And my favorite headline
Norwegian breaks into apartment, rents it
In flipping through just random thoughts I have written down in the quest that later I would make funny jokes about them, I came across this in my notebook.
A Jiffy Lube bathroom should never smell like Smarties.
This was probably written either
a) at 3:00 in the morning after some dream I had where I thought this combination was HEE-LARIOUS.
b) at some aftershow where I was piss-assed drunk and everything was HEE-larious.
Either way, I don't know what the fuck it means. And I'm not going to put a whole lot of effort figuring it out either.
Caution: Haywire Blogging Ahead
I'm going to be in and out with blogging up until next Tuesday because of shows and whatnot. So you OCD people who click on my site 10,000 times until I post some damn thing (Furry), please take appropriate precautions.
Give me a fricking break
Group protests Star Wars Toys at Burger King because film is PG-13
Charlie, don't eat here
Elephant attacks eatery
And my favorite headline
Norwegian breaks into apartment, rents it
Monday, May 23, 2005
Dispatches from Jenn's Netflix Queue
Finding Neverland - OK, right off this bat I liked this film because it starred Johnny Depp, and he is one of the few actors who is very, very hot and also very, very damn engaging. I have said numerous times that he could play basically anything, even a speed bump if necessary. And I liked the plot, but "remarkable" it is not. I imagine I feel the bit the same as Gene did during Sideways in that this movie is a good film being dubbed as a great film. And to that end, it was a little disappointing as it didn't live up to the hype and the "you gotta see it" vibe that I've heard lately. But, it was a nice little film that was very effective...especially if you are a writer...and I recommend it. Just don't go in with obscenely high expectations.
A Streetcar Named Desire - Oh, please don't hate me. But I just watched this and just....um....well, I don't know what I think, really. I only know I didn't love it as much as I should have. Don't get me wrong, I saw that clearly this was an important film in that it busted a lot of censorship barriers and it was decades ahead of its time. And it was magnificently paced. But I simply couldn't get passed the fact that it was based on a stage play and it was done as such. Everyone had that on-stage, overly dramatic flair to them and it looked as though I was watching a tape from a performance at The Wang Theater, which does not bode particularly well when you don't have a whole lot in the suspension of disbelief department in the first place. And most old films are overly dramatic, as that was simply the style, but most of the great ones recover from this fault -- Casablanca immediately jumping to mind. Streetcar never really does recover, and it loses its effectiveness around the first third of the movie. On the other hand, now that I KNOW this, it probably means I'll like it a whole lot better on the second viewing.
And, an old favorite dusted off the shelf
As I apparently had some free time this weekend, I threw in The Blair Witch Project with friend Jay, whom has never seen the film. Now, you may remember friend Jay as my pussy friend who gets visibly scared at films, which I find so very, very funny...especially as we have established numerous times that I do NOT as I have no suspension of disbelief. So my job is to taunt him with scary shit...mostly of the Ringu / Ju On: The Grudge persuasion...which probably makes him weep openly and quite possibly shit his bed at night (I'm expecting a dry cleaning bill from his wife any day now). So as he's been tainted with most everything of the Japanese horror persuasion from my shelf, we threw in Blair Witch. And Jay, The Big Pussy found it very effective (he had to eradicate himself to the safe quarters of the bathroom when the campers thought they heard the baby crying outside the tent), however I thought this film lost a whole hell of a lot from the screen to DVD. When I saw it in the theater I wasn't scared, but it was one of the few films I really believed I COULD have been if I didn't severely taint myself prior. And by this I mean watching Cannibal Holocaust. See, a lot of people thought Blair Witch was "so creative" and "so fresh". Unfortunately, they didn't know that a little known film, Cannibal Holocaust, really originated the "oh, this is really real" shit long before Blair Witch. And Cannibal Holocaust had its moments of glory for sure, but there was one teeny, tiny flaw. Basically, the film revolved around explorers who went into the rainforest in hopes of studying a primitive tribe and end up getting killed and eaten by said tribe. Of course the audience gets treated to the whole "dinner." Sounds creepy? It is...until you realize one thing.
For the whole "eating human thing" to be taped? This would mean that the primative people were operating the camcorder. With proficiency.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
And for this exact reason, the whole "um...why are they still taping, again?" thing plagued me during Blair Witch, and even more so when I watched it this weekend. I'm sorry, a big fricking white witch making baby noises and leaving big stickmen and piles of rocks outside your tent? Turn off the camera....your documentary is officially in post-production.
But you know, still a great film and all that. I just like to bitch.
And because I didn't scar him bad enough
We threw in Men Behind the Sun. He officially hates me now.
Witty Useless Banter Returning Tomorrow
Because, shit, today I had movies to discuss and that is more important.
Finding Neverland - OK, right off this bat I liked this film because it starred Johnny Depp, and he is one of the few actors who is very, very hot and also very, very damn engaging. I have said numerous times that he could play basically anything, even a speed bump if necessary. And I liked the plot, but "remarkable" it is not. I imagine I feel the bit the same as Gene did during Sideways in that this movie is a good film being dubbed as a great film. And to that end, it was a little disappointing as it didn't live up to the hype and the "you gotta see it" vibe that I've heard lately. But, it was a nice little film that was very effective...especially if you are a writer...and I recommend it. Just don't go in with obscenely high expectations.
A Streetcar Named Desire - Oh, please don't hate me. But I just watched this and just....um....well, I don't know what I think, really. I only know I didn't love it as much as I should have. Don't get me wrong, I saw that clearly this was an important film in that it busted a lot of censorship barriers and it was decades ahead of its time. And it was magnificently paced. But I simply couldn't get passed the fact that it was based on a stage play and it was done as such. Everyone had that on-stage, overly dramatic flair to them and it looked as though I was watching a tape from a performance at The Wang Theater, which does not bode particularly well when you don't have a whole lot in the suspension of disbelief department in the first place. And most old films are overly dramatic, as that was simply the style, but most of the great ones recover from this fault -- Casablanca immediately jumping to mind. Streetcar never really does recover, and it loses its effectiveness around the first third of the movie. On the other hand, now that I KNOW this, it probably means I'll like it a whole lot better on the second viewing.
And, an old favorite dusted off the shelf
As I apparently had some free time this weekend, I threw in The Blair Witch Project with friend Jay, whom has never seen the film. Now, you may remember friend Jay as my pussy friend who gets visibly scared at films, which I find so very, very funny...especially as we have established numerous times that I do NOT as I have no suspension of disbelief. So my job is to taunt him with scary shit...mostly of the Ringu / Ju On: The Grudge persuasion...which probably makes him weep openly and quite possibly shit his bed at night (I'm expecting a dry cleaning bill from his wife any day now). So as he's been tainted with most everything of the Japanese horror persuasion from my shelf, we threw in Blair Witch. And Jay, The Big Pussy found it very effective (he had to eradicate himself to the safe quarters of the bathroom when the campers thought they heard the baby crying outside the tent), however I thought this film lost a whole hell of a lot from the screen to DVD. When I saw it in the theater I wasn't scared, but it was one of the few films I really believed I COULD have been if I didn't severely taint myself prior. And by this I mean watching Cannibal Holocaust. See, a lot of people thought Blair Witch was "so creative" and "so fresh". Unfortunately, they didn't know that a little known film, Cannibal Holocaust, really originated the "oh, this is really real" shit long before Blair Witch. And Cannibal Holocaust had its moments of glory for sure, but there was one teeny, tiny flaw. Basically, the film revolved around explorers who went into the rainforest in hopes of studying a primitive tribe and end up getting killed and eaten by said tribe. Of course the audience gets treated to the whole "dinner." Sounds creepy? It is...until you realize one thing.
For the whole "eating human thing" to be taped? This would mean that the primative people were operating the camcorder. With proficiency.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
And for this exact reason, the whole "um...why are they still taping, again?" thing plagued me during Blair Witch, and even more so when I watched it this weekend. I'm sorry, a big fricking white witch making baby noises and leaving big stickmen and piles of rocks outside your tent? Turn off the camera....your documentary is officially in post-production.
But you know, still a great film and all that. I just like to bitch.
And because I didn't scar him bad enough
We threw in Men Behind the Sun. He officially hates me now.
Witty Useless Banter Returning Tomorrow
Because, shit, today I had movies to discuss and that is more important.
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Well, that was fun.
For the last couple weeks or so, I’ve been testing out some new comedy material, which to a comic means that you get a lot of vacant stares and head-shaking as you try to determine what works and what doesn’t. And the vacant stares is amplified for me because I’ve been in a kind of an off-beat mood lately and some of my new stuff is definitely in the Weird Shit Department. Last night, even though I had all intentions to throw some of my stronger new stuff in to see how it would work for a weekend crowd, I opted to do 10 minutes of my most reliable, tried-and-true stuff, and it went over swimmingly. Couldn’t ask for better, really. And to amplify the evening, I got to hang with Mr. and Mrs. Zolton, there was free booze for us working-types, and at the end two heterosexual male comics started grind-dancing together. Ain’t comedy grand?
For the last couple weeks or so, I’ve been testing out some new comedy material, which to a comic means that you get a lot of vacant stares and head-shaking as you try to determine what works and what doesn’t. And the vacant stares is amplified for me because I’ve been in a kind of an off-beat mood lately and some of my new stuff is definitely in the Weird Shit Department. Last night, even though I had all intentions to throw some of my stronger new stuff in to see how it would work for a weekend crowd, I opted to do 10 minutes of my most reliable, tried-and-true stuff, and it went over swimmingly. Couldn’t ask for better, really. And to amplify the evening, I got to hang with Mr. and Mrs. Zolton, there was free booze for us working-types, and at the end two heterosexual male comics started grind-dancing together. Ain’t comedy grand?
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Dispatches from Jenn’s Netflix Queue
Ocean’s 12: Oh dear. Now I was among those who thought that Ocean’s 11 was kind of fun in the most stupid, unrealistic way possible, so I kind of figured Ocean’s 12 would be much the same way, just a little bit stupider. Oh no, no, nosiree, Bob. Ocean’s 12 was so much more retarded then I could have even imagine. It was one of those movies you don’t even have to be in the same ROOM for and still know what’s going on. I personally was doing laundry, cleaning my house, wrapping gifts, and working online and I still got the gist of the whole film…which makes me wonder why I even bothered renting it at all.
Up next, Finding Neverland and A Streetcar Named Desire….yes, still.
Jenn’s Movie Purchases
Just because I have no shit on the shelf to talk about today, here’s what I purchased yesterday:
Seinfeld Season 4 – This is when Seinfeld really started to get good. Sure Seasons 1-3 had its moments, but this is when it became really damn consistent. And really, at 29.99 at Wal-Mart, you really can’t afford not to own it. Also, it’s digitally enhanced which matters to some people, apparently.
Team America: World Police – Now with more marionette fucking! Actually, I was really impressed with this as Paramount is known for their over-priced, craptastic DVDs. At Paramount headquarters, “Special Edition” usually means it comes with a movie trailer and possibly scene selection (some of their DVDs really don’t have scene selection. I refer to The Elephant Man for this. Though to be fair, this may have been David Lynch’s choice because he is weird like that. He made a movie about a kid who peed his bed, planted seeds in the wet spot, and grew a grandmother. Rebelling scene selection? Not quite out of the realm of possibility for him). Anyway, the extras are nice, some of the outtakes are pretty amusing, and damnit, I just can’t get enough of a five-minute puppet puke scene.
Eh, that’s all for today. Perhaps I’ll return tomorrow with something witty. Or maybe I’ll post my grocery list. Who knows.
Ocean’s 12: Oh dear. Now I was among those who thought that Ocean’s 11 was kind of fun in the most stupid, unrealistic way possible, so I kind of figured Ocean’s 12 would be much the same way, just a little bit stupider. Oh no, no, nosiree, Bob. Ocean’s 12 was so much more retarded then I could have even imagine. It was one of those movies you don’t even have to be in the same ROOM for and still know what’s going on. I personally was doing laundry, cleaning my house, wrapping gifts, and working online and I still got the gist of the whole film…which makes me wonder why I even bothered renting it at all.
Up next, Finding Neverland and A Streetcar Named Desire….yes, still.
Jenn’s Movie Purchases
Just because I have no shit on the shelf to talk about today, here’s what I purchased yesterday:
Seinfeld Season 4 – This is when Seinfeld really started to get good. Sure Seasons 1-3 had its moments, but this is when it became really damn consistent. And really, at 29.99 at Wal-Mart, you really can’t afford not to own it. Also, it’s digitally enhanced which matters to some people, apparently.
Team America: World Police – Now with more marionette fucking! Actually, I was really impressed with this as Paramount is known for their over-priced, craptastic DVDs. At Paramount headquarters, “Special Edition” usually means it comes with a movie trailer and possibly scene selection (some of their DVDs really don’t have scene selection. I refer to The Elephant Man for this. Though to be fair, this may have been David Lynch’s choice because he is weird like that. He made a movie about a kid who peed his bed, planted seeds in the wet spot, and grew a grandmother. Rebelling scene selection? Not quite out of the realm of possibility for him). Anyway, the extras are nice, some of the outtakes are pretty amusing, and damnit, I just can’t get enough of a five-minute puppet puke scene.
Eh, that’s all for today. Perhaps I’ll return tomorrow with something witty. Or maybe I’ll post my grocery list. Who knows.
Friday, May 20, 2005
I really need a booker
Someone has to start planning my stand-up comedy road trips for me. Not that I really need one or that I’m even good enough to get a booker, but I am completely incapable of making a schedule that does not look like Magellan’s AAA Trip Ticket. Here is a snippet of my upcoming schedule.
Monday – South Shore of Boston
Tuesday – Lowell – which is entirely too close for comfort to New Hampshire
Wednesday – Maine
Thursday – Connecticut
Friday – Boston
Saturday – Maine….again
Sunday – Connecticut
Monday – Boston. But, God dang it, two trips around the Maine-Connecticut-Boston Comedy Trifecta is enough for one almost week, so it’s off again to…
Tuesday – Not Necessarily New Hampshire
Wednesday – Maine! No, just kidding. Schenectady. Apparently this is in New York. Or someone sneezed when giving me directions.
Thursday – Long Island. Also in New York nowhere near Schenectady, and definitely way fucking far away from Boston which I have to return to, to drop off Streetwhore who is coming to Schenectady with me. This is much like trying to get to Albuquerque by way of Guam.
Friday – Buffalo
Saturday – Maine! No, not really, I just like screaming “Maine!”
So the bad news is, my car is only two years old and has broken ball bearings and I have go to Jiffy Lube every month (OK, so that is for something else ENTIRELY, but let’s keep this PG for today, shall we?). The good news is through all of this traveling there is a very, very good chance I’ll fulfill Columbus’s pipe dream and discover India.
And for those who hate all those fucking ribbons
Support Our Ribbons
Someone has to start planning my stand-up comedy road trips for me. Not that I really need one or that I’m even good enough to get a booker, but I am completely incapable of making a schedule that does not look like Magellan’s AAA Trip Ticket. Here is a snippet of my upcoming schedule.
Monday – South Shore of Boston
Tuesday – Lowell – which is entirely too close for comfort to New Hampshire
Wednesday – Maine
Thursday – Connecticut
Friday – Boston
Saturday – Maine….again
Sunday – Connecticut
Monday – Boston. But, God dang it, two trips around the Maine-Connecticut-Boston Comedy Trifecta is enough for one almost week, so it’s off again to…
Tuesday – Not Necessarily New Hampshire
Wednesday – Maine! No, just kidding. Schenectady. Apparently this is in New York. Or someone sneezed when giving me directions.
Thursday – Long Island. Also in New York nowhere near Schenectady, and definitely way fucking far away from Boston which I have to return to, to drop off Streetwhore who is coming to Schenectady with me. This is much like trying to get to Albuquerque by way of Guam.
Friday – Buffalo
Saturday – Maine! No, not really, I just like screaming “Maine!”
So the bad news is, my car is only two years old and has broken ball bearings and I have go to Jiffy Lube every month (OK, so that is for something else ENTIRELY, but let’s keep this PG for today, shall we?). The good news is through all of this traveling there is a very, very good chance I’ll fulfill Columbus’s pipe dream and discover India.
And for those who hate all those fucking ribbons
Support Our Ribbons
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Top Ten Reasons to Take a Road Trip to Portland, Maine....crossing 4 State Lines, Mind You, as You Were Coming from Rhode Island...for an Unpaid Comedy Show on a Wednesday Night with Zolton
Top Ten Reasons to Drive Back to Southern Massachusetts After Above Show to see Revenge of the Sith
- Wednesday night is relatively traffic-free in Maine which makes it far more convenient to see the Maine slogan signs every quarter mile begging you to please, PLEASE stay and not turn around and go home.
- To my knowledge, no Boston comedy room is equipped with a Fart Mike.**
- Absolutely guaranteed a sheep-fucking joke. It's Maine. It may be mandatory.
- Few other car rides would a discussion of weeble sex surface
- Or the mechanics of plant fucking
- To discover the delicate relationship between boaters and their plants
- No, I'm not explaining Point 6. But it did involve the confusion of "pants" for "plants"
- To test one's navigation skills when Zolton's directions to his house include "I don't know. Try left."
- To discover my doctor knew what he was talking about when he said I should wear my glasses when driving at night. Mistaking a Burger King for a toll booth makes Zolton uneasy.
- Chances of a Renegade Mountie sighting? Better than slim.
Top Ten Reasons to Drive Back to Southern Massachusetts After Above Show to see Revenge of the Sith
- Pure fricking exhaustion ensures that your suspension of disbelief is completely shattered and you do not only believe light sabers can exist, but you are actually really seeing them. And Ewoks. And Wookies. And possibly a Burger King Toll Booth.
- Potential of sitting between Darth Vader and Qui-Gon Jinn with a herd of Chewy's behind you. And an orgy didn't break out immediately.
- More Princess Leia/Queen Amidala drag queens than you ever expected
- And a Darth Maul/ Darth Sidious lesbian couple
- And a guy dressed as The Playboy Bunny. With a lightsaber.
- Not to mention, you are not the only one who arrived with Darth Tater
- You're just not going to hear "Amidala, suck his cock already!" at a Saturday matinee
- Or see a guy wearing a sandwich board that says "Down with prequels....Revenge of the Shit"
- It's very rare to see a Nute Gunray thrown out of a theater mid-movie
- And one to grow on, George Lucas ended this lukewarm prequel fest on a higher note than I thought was possible. And it's worth seeing for that alone. And for Chris Lee's ass.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
I really don’t know what the hell is wrong with me
I departed last night for EVOS despite the fact that I just had dental surgery and I was very ouchie and grumpy. I ended up deciding not to go up, because Daniella had about 793 comics wanting time, and talking was a little contraindicated for me. But I stuck around because some of the cool kids were there, and really, what was I going to do at home? Pound Tequila Anbesol Sunrises? Seal my mouth off with plumbers’ goop and wicker furniture varnish? Spray spray-on hair on the tooth cavity so people think I just got back from a 69-nooner? That’s just too mundane for a Tuesday.
Now, I was in screenplay-writing mode because I was just touching up Lipstick for the 900th time or so. I’m also in the process of collaborating with three other writers on screen-stuff. So I really don’t need, nor quite frankly WANT, any sort of non-sequitur but somehow coherent thoughts of another screenplay I could potentially write. I’m set in that department for now. But as I was passing by a toy store on the way to EVOS. (and, yes, there is one. If you’ve ever been to EVOS you’d be surprised by this revelation as well) and in the window is this game. I can’t say what the game is, because the game’s name has bearing on the script, but I can say it is a popular game I apparently didn’t know existed and struck me as funny, which is not overly reliable as I was on pain medication. So I wrote the name of the game down in my little comedy book, and thought I might do something with it later.
Apparently my brain translates “later” as “three seconds after walking into EVOS while trying to get some kind of set together before you decide you are simply too ouchie to go up on stage tonight.” Because then the thoughts came for this “screenplay”, and I really tried to resist them, at least temporarily, as I simply do not have the time to deal with another shitstorm of creative thoughts that my brain wants me to do something with. You see, most writers come up with a good idea every couple of days or so. My brain however, decides that EVERYTHING is a good idea and then haunts me with it until I do something with it and realize that, ultimately, I have written the literary and possibly chemical equivalent of shark shit. Then it says to me, “Um sorry….I think I jumped the gun.” Fucking spastic purkinje cells.
So by the end of the night I have this whole script planned out which now I have to do SOMETHING with as my brain will absolutely not leave me alone until I do. And maybe it’s just sheer blindness from the novelty of a new idea, but I think I actually have something here. But the funny thing is…if anyone was to ask me what my idea is, I couldn’t put it into words. I see pictures of it in my mind, but I can’t describe it. Which seems damning, but, hey, I still can’t describe my sitcom script to people and look how far that’s gone. Well, not that far, really…actually it has really just locomotioned to my porch where it’s holding up my flower box… but I actually got to pitch it, and it looks like another pitch with a different network is forthcoming. So maybe that is the key to you writers out there, write something even you don’t know what the fuck it is and the powers that be will label you a genius. Or just take a lot of pain medications and hang out in toy stores, which might be a better option providing you don’t have a problem hobnobbing with law enforcement.
By the way....
STAR WARS today. How bad is it that I'm actually looking much more forward to seeing drag queen Princess Leias than the actual movie?
I departed last night for EVOS despite the fact that I just had dental surgery and I was very ouchie and grumpy. I ended up deciding not to go up, because Daniella had about 793 comics wanting time, and talking was a little contraindicated for me. But I stuck around because some of the cool kids were there, and really, what was I going to do at home? Pound Tequila Anbesol Sunrises? Seal my mouth off with plumbers’ goop and wicker furniture varnish? Spray spray-on hair on the tooth cavity so people think I just got back from a 69-nooner? That’s just too mundane for a Tuesday.
Now, I was in screenplay-writing mode because I was just touching up Lipstick for the 900th time or so. I’m also in the process of collaborating with three other writers on screen-stuff. So I really don’t need, nor quite frankly WANT, any sort of non-sequitur but somehow coherent thoughts of another screenplay I could potentially write. I’m set in that department for now. But as I was passing by a toy store on the way to EVOS. (and, yes, there is one. If you’ve ever been to EVOS you’d be surprised by this revelation as well) and in the window is this game. I can’t say what the game is, because the game’s name has bearing on the script, but I can say it is a popular game I apparently didn’t know existed and struck me as funny, which is not overly reliable as I was on pain medication. So I wrote the name of the game down in my little comedy book, and thought I might do something with it later.
Apparently my brain translates “later” as “three seconds after walking into EVOS while trying to get some kind of set together before you decide you are simply too ouchie to go up on stage tonight.” Because then the thoughts came for this “screenplay”, and I really tried to resist them, at least temporarily, as I simply do not have the time to deal with another shitstorm of creative thoughts that my brain wants me to do something with. You see, most writers come up with a good idea every couple of days or so. My brain however, decides that EVERYTHING is a good idea and then haunts me with it until I do something with it and realize that, ultimately, I have written the literary and possibly chemical equivalent of shark shit. Then it says to me, “Um sorry….I think I jumped the gun.” Fucking spastic purkinje cells.
So by the end of the night I have this whole script planned out which now I have to do SOMETHING with as my brain will absolutely not leave me alone until I do. And maybe it’s just sheer blindness from the novelty of a new idea, but I think I actually have something here. But the funny thing is…if anyone was to ask me what my idea is, I couldn’t put it into words. I see pictures of it in my mind, but I can’t describe it. Which seems damning, but, hey, I still can’t describe my sitcom script to people and look how far that’s gone. Well, not that far, really…actually it has really just locomotioned to my porch where it’s holding up my flower box… but I actually got to pitch it, and it looks like another pitch with a different network is forthcoming. So maybe that is the key to you writers out there, write something even you don’t know what the fuck it is and the powers that be will label you a genius. Or just take a lot of pain medications and hang out in toy stores, which might be a better option providing you don’t have a problem hobnobbing with law enforcement.
By the way....
STAR WARS today. How bad is it that I'm actually looking much more forward to seeing drag queen Princess Leias than the actual movie?
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Addendum to Earlier Post
Apparently Gene will not be going on a Hack Famous Author Murdering Spree. He will be using a stealth missile instead. Apparently, I received erroneous information.
Apparently Gene will not be going on a Hack Famous Author Murdering Spree. He will be using a stealth missile instead. Apparently, I received erroneous information.
I probably should be doing something constructive instead of blogging...
My to do list for today
My to do list for today
- Freelance place I write jokes for has not heard from me in several fortnights. Submit stuff to them so to quell their fears that I have died. A flower basket delivery from freelance place would probably upset Mom, especially as she does not yet think I am dead.
- Rewrites for Lipstick screenplay requested from director. Spend at least an hour cursing at my ultra-buggy screenwriting software only to get frustrated and edit craptastic Word version instead.
- While editing screenplay, start summoning prayers to any Supreme Deity willing to fix my screenwriting program before I need to input edits.
- Write something insightful-yet-funny for Classic Horror since Nate mentioned on the site's public forum that he has no more reviews to post. Basic math, Keep Nate Happy = Keep Online Outlet for Me to Discuss Chris Lee's Ass.
- Get some kind of set list for stand-up performance tonight. Despite all forces of nature, try really hard to make it funny.
- Write article on urinary incontinence. Despite all forces of nature, try really hard not to make it funny.
- Answer onslaught of emails from Email Contingent as to why I'm writing an article on urinary incontinence in the first place. Increase security level on Spam-o-meter.
- Networking, which includes but is not limited to:
- Chastising Zolton on his non-functional leg. Make list of third-leg and syphilis remarks.
- Asking Gene for the 100th time if Immortal has been published to give him illusion that I'm concerned, but in reality am just doing it to ensure he has not departed for Hack Famous Author Murdering Spree yet. I don't need to be tied up in a police investigation.
- Ask Andrea for 300th time if we can put ninja grandmother in our screenplay. Not because I really want it in there, but I want to see how many times she'll say "no" politely before she tells me to fuck myself.
- Buy Furry a very large vibrating apparatus.
- Ensure large vibrating apparatus is not named Amy.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Woo....wee! What a weekend.
Had a comedy weekend in CT and I had a freaking blast. And, yes, I know it is really hard to picture having fun in CT to begin with, but apparently it is possible. My Saturday show especially rocked hard. The place was sold out. Greg, who runs the show, puts on a great line-up, and there were some impressive NY-type comics who went up including Jody Wasserman, Rich Shapiro, and Stacy Prussman from The Howard Stern Show. It was one of those awesome evenings of comedy that reminds me why I do this at all. Great, great night, and special kudos to Greg.
Dispatches from Jenn's Netflix Queue
See, when I promise you people something, I always deliver.
Richard Pryor's: Here and Now: Right off the bat, this isn't my favorite Richard Pryor special. Of course it is hilarious and absolutely worth a viewing, but it doesn't include my favorite stuff. And for whatever reason it's offered in widescreen. You know, just in case you want to see that extra couple feet of vacant stage. Offering a widescreen in stand-up comedy seems a lot like offering to THX-enhance Nosferatu.
Monty Python's: And Now for Something Completely Different: I have no freaking clue how I missed seeing this as I am a Monty Python fan. There's a mix of tried-and-true stuff (aka dead parrot) and hilarious shit I've never seen before (aka "People Who Cannot be Seen" documentary). It's a nice summary of the Monty Python experience in an hour and a half, and I personally recommend it to everyone who has a sense of humor except for Furry because she only finds things like Amy stepping in gopher shit funny.
Next up A Streetcar Named Desire. Show of hands from the Boston Comic Contingent - who can look at the video box for the film without thinking of Kris Earle teaching skiing lessons?
Eh, I know.
Kind of a ho-hum blogging experience today. But tonight is Backside night, so I'll probably have more exciting news to share tomorrow. Have a good Monday, folks.
Had a comedy weekend in CT and I had a freaking blast. And, yes, I know it is really hard to picture having fun in CT to begin with, but apparently it is possible. My Saturday show especially rocked hard. The place was sold out. Greg, who runs the show, puts on a great line-up, and there were some impressive NY-type comics who went up including Jody Wasserman, Rich Shapiro, and Stacy Prussman from The Howard Stern Show. It was one of those awesome evenings of comedy that reminds me why I do this at all. Great, great night, and special kudos to Greg.
Dispatches from Jenn's Netflix Queue
See, when I promise you people something, I always deliver.
Richard Pryor's: Here and Now: Right off the bat, this isn't my favorite Richard Pryor special. Of course it is hilarious and absolutely worth a viewing, but it doesn't include my favorite stuff. And for whatever reason it's offered in widescreen. You know, just in case you want to see that extra couple feet of vacant stage. Offering a widescreen in stand-up comedy seems a lot like offering to THX-enhance Nosferatu.
Monty Python's: And Now for Something Completely Different: I have no freaking clue how I missed seeing this as I am a Monty Python fan. There's a mix of tried-and-true stuff (aka dead parrot) and hilarious shit I've never seen before (aka "People Who Cannot be Seen" documentary). It's a nice summary of the Monty Python experience in an hour and a half, and I personally recommend it to everyone who has a sense of humor except for Furry because she only finds things like Amy stepping in gopher shit funny.
Next up A Streetcar Named Desire. Show of hands from the Boston Comic Contingent - who can look at the video box for the film without thinking of Kris Earle teaching skiing lessons?
Eh, I know.
Kind of a ho-hum blogging experience today. But tonight is Backside night, so I'll probably have more exciting news to share tomorrow. Have a good Monday, folks.
Friday, May 13, 2005
All Noble Causes Must Come to an End
Michigan ends television career of talking penis
Lawmakers Object to Fake Penis Use in Drug Tests
Especially those damn talking penises. They hypnotize the lab technicians.
Talking Penis feels World is Against Him, Goes Into Self-Imposed Hiding
Weenie goes missing
And my "Aw, Shucks" Moment of the Day
Kairo has given my writing style some nice props on the Classic Horror Forum regarding my Cannibal! The Musical review. Which I realize no one gives a damn about here, but I just wanted to give Kairo back some love. Is that so wrong?????
I will watch my Netflix...I will watch my Netflix
I'm now entering Month 3 of Hanging on to Netflix Movies for Over a Fortnight With Their Only Use Being Solid Matter on my Coffee Table, Beer Coasters, and Perhaps Frisbees for my Garden Gnomes. And I really SHOULD watch them as I believe two of them are stand-up specials and one is a Monty Python-type experience. It's not like those little red packages contain David Lynch's new opus, Driving to Twin Peaks on Mullholland Drive, Taking a Wrong Turn Off the Lost Highway and Ending up in a Darkened Room Trying to Get Directions From The Elephant Man and His Hetero-Life-Mate, Eraserhead. So, I might pop one or two in this weekend so I can finally have a Dispatch from Jenn's Netflix Queue article on Monday. And that thought alone should get you through the pain of those two approaching cubicle-free days, huh?
And speaking of The Cubicle Exodus
Have a good weekend, folks. I will be in Connecticut. Just in case you were planning on spending time envying me this weekend, you can cross that off your agenda.
Michigan ends television career of talking penis
Lawmakers Object to Fake Penis Use in Drug Tests
Especially those damn talking penises. They hypnotize the lab technicians.
Talking Penis feels World is Against Him, Goes Into Self-Imposed Hiding
Weenie goes missing
And my "Aw, Shucks" Moment of the Day
Kairo has given my writing style some nice props on the Classic Horror Forum regarding my Cannibal! The Musical review. Which I realize no one gives a damn about here, but I just wanted to give Kairo back some love. Is that so wrong?????
I will watch my Netflix...I will watch my Netflix
I'm now entering Month 3 of Hanging on to Netflix Movies for Over a Fortnight With Their Only Use Being Solid Matter on my Coffee Table, Beer Coasters, and Perhaps Frisbees for my Garden Gnomes. And I really SHOULD watch them as I believe two of them are stand-up specials and one is a Monty Python-type experience. It's not like those little red packages contain David Lynch's new opus, Driving to Twin Peaks on Mullholland Drive, Taking a Wrong Turn Off the Lost Highway and Ending up in a Darkened Room Trying to Get Directions From The Elephant Man and His Hetero-Life-Mate, Eraserhead. So, I might pop one or two in this weekend so I can finally have a Dispatch from Jenn's Netflix Queue article on Monday. And that thought alone should get you through the pain of those two approaching cubicle-free days, huh?
And speaking of The Cubicle Exodus
Have a good weekend, folks. I will be in Connecticut. Just in case you were planning on spending time envying me this weekend, you can cross that off your agenda.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
A new Sobe drink
Sobe, the ice tea place actually has a new beverage called Tsumani. And if it didn’t take so much like a yummy, yummy creamsicle, I might be offended by it.
Jenn Welcomes a New Addition to Her Home
Oh, will you exhale already, I’m not pregnant. No, no, it’s much cooler than that. Much, MUCH cooler. After much deliberation, research, and I am proud to welcome into my life….
My new bathtub mat!
Why do I get the feeling you are staring at me like a macramé toilet paper cover.
In all of my adult life, I have never owned a bathtub mat. There are a couple reasons for this. One, I am not old. And a bathmat to prevent you from falling strikes me on something on an old person’s shopping list along with moth balls, those drug store reading glasses that can observe Wookie antics on the distant planet of Tatooine, and industrial-strength Fixodent. Secondly, it appears that my cerebellum is functioning properly enough to keep me standing upright for short periods of time. I’m as klutzy as the next person, but I’m fully capable of standing in frappe line at the Dairy Barn with no fear that my body is going to spontaneously propel me to the underbelly of the large porcelain cow.
So why did I buy it?
Because I, um, fell in the shower yesterday.
I heard that snicker.
And really, even that withstanding, the risk of me injuring myself really badly from doing this is so remote as my bathroom was made around the time hobbits and elfin folk roamed the earth. So there are not a whole lot of places a voluptuous person like me could actually fall so to speak. But that didn’t prevent me from getting five dessert-plate sized bruises on my rib cage. So now I’m praying I don’t get into an accident or something where I would have to explain these bruises to some kind of medical personnel. Because they would probably not find it very humorous if I said I was at the end of my third trimester of alien impregnation and the Due Date for it to burst through my chest is June 2nd. They are kinda testy, them ER doctors.
And yes, yes I know
Wookies do not live on Tatooine. Because I know one of you would point that out.
Sobe, the ice tea place actually has a new beverage called Tsumani. And if it didn’t take so much like a yummy, yummy creamsicle, I might be offended by it.
Jenn Welcomes a New Addition to Her Home
Oh, will you exhale already, I’m not pregnant. No, no, it’s much cooler than that. Much, MUCH cooler. After much deliberation, research, and I am proud to welcome into my life….
My new bathtub mat!
Why do I get the feeling you are staring at me like a macramé toilet paper cover.
In all of my adult life, I have never owned a bathtub mat. There are a couple reasons for this. One, I am not old. And a bathmat to prevent you from falling strikes me on something on an old person’s shopping list along with moth balls, those drug store reading glasses that can observe Wookie antics on the distant planet of Tatooine, and industrial-strength Fixodent. Secondly, it appears that my cerebellum is functioning properly enough to keep me standing upright for short periods of time. I’m as klutzy as the next person, but I’m fully capable of standing in frappe line at the Dairy Barn with no fear that my body is going to spontaneously propel me to the underbelly of the large porcelain cow.
So why did I buy it?
Because I, um, fell in the shower yesterday.
I heard that snicker.
And really, even that withstanding, the risk of me injuring myself really badly from doing this is so remote as my bathroom was made around the time hobbits and elfin folk roamed the earth. So there are not a whole lot of places a voluptuous person like me could actually fall so to speak. But that didn’t prevent me from getting five dessert-plate sized bruises on my rib cage. So now I’m praying I don’t get into an accident or something where I would have to explain these bruises to some kind of medical personnel. Because they would probably not find it very humorous if I said I was at the end of my third trimester of alien impregnation and the Due Date for it to burst through my chest is June 2nd. They are kinda testy, them ER doctors.
And yes, yes I know
Wookies do not live on Tatooine. Because I know one of you would point that out.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Good luck to Streetwhore
He’s performing in NYC tonight. Godspeed.
And I’m on the road again
It’s summer time in Jenn-dom which is about the time that I look at my schedule and say, “Why the fuck did I schedule a show in Connecticut on Friday, Maine on Saturday, and another show in Connecticut on Sunday?” No one ever said I had good planning skills. Nope, no forward-thinking or foresight here for this chick. Or foreskin for that matter. I know that I surely disappointed the Chicks with Dicks Contingent here, and for that I am deeply sorry.
Unless, of course by "chicks" you mean tiny poultry. In which case you are probably not all that disappointed as I can’t imagine there are many bloggers attuned to your chicky dicky fetish. You’re used to being misunderstood and ultimately disappointed by our ramblings. May I recommend the Farm Bureau’s Website or this guy in a chicken costume to satiate you while you muddle through this crap? No one can say I am not hearing my readers’ needs.
Anyway, the point in this is that I am coming. Coming soon to a comedy club near you. So check my schedule which I haven’t updated yet but will really, really soon. Why should I only have the people in Marshfield stare at me with a zombified gaze when I discuss lightbulb enemas when I can have a whole NEW town trying to excommunicate me with their eyes?
He’s performing in NYC tonight. Godspeed.
And I’m on the road again
It’s summer time in Jenn-dom which is about the time that I look at my schedule and say, “Why the fuck did I schedule a show in Connecticut on Friday, Maine on Saturday, and another show in Connecticut on Sunday?” No one ever said I had good planning skills. Nope, no forward-thinking or foresight here for this chick. Or foreskin for that matter. I know that I surely disappointed the Chicks with Dicks Contingent here, and for that I am deeply sorry.
Unless, of course by "chicks" you mean tiny poultry. In which case you are probably not all that disappointed as I can’t imagine there are many bloggers attuned to your chicky dicky fetish. You’re used to being misunderstood and ultimately disappointed by our ramblings. May I recommend the Farm Bureau’s Website or this guy in a chicken costume to satiate you while you muddle through this crap? No one can say I am not hearing my readers’ needs.
Anyway, the point in this is that I am coming. Coming soon to a comedy club near you. So check my schedule which I haven’t updated yet but will really, really soon. Why should I only have the people in Marshfield stare at me with a zombified gaze when I discuss lightbulb enemas when I can have a whole NEW town trying to excommunicate me with their eyes?
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
WANTED: One Star Wars Fan
OK, people. As you are probably aware, May 18th at midnight, the new Star Wars movie is coming out. And as you can probably figure, I, like the rest of the Star Wars-loving community want to go to the midnight show on Tuesday like I did for the last two because I just don't ever get tired of grown men dressed up in gold Princess Leia bikinis holding a cardboard cutout of Darth Vader. And you don't see that shit at a matinee. Star Wars at midnight has a bit of a Rocky Horror-ness to it without all the fucking in the aisles. So it's not AS fun...but close.
The problem? Due to planetary alignment fucking things up, May 18th appears to be a very inconvenient day for all my friends...well, the friends who ordinarily WOULDN'T find going to a midnight show on a work night inconvenient to begin with. Bull Rider is off riding bulls in Texas, Joe - my stand-by Star Wars guy has INCONVENIENTLY decided to move back to Buffalo, half of my comic friends will be drunk at an open mike (so will I, but I'm willing to locomotion to a theater afterwards), the other half have one of those boyfriend/girlfriend/wife/husband things and have some compulsive urge to stay home and re-define the term "Hump Day", and every one else of my slackerish friends are either out of town or have some kind of work commitment. And the Princess Leia bikini guy? Well, he already has cardboard Darth Vader, and three is a crowd you know.
But, hey, I still want to go, because it's the last damn one. Not to mention, I'm a film student/aficionado/whore and it's mandatory. So anyone who personally knows me and does not live in like Alberta, Canada or San Diego or anywhere outside of the greater Boston area, and wants to go, email me. Because I'm going to look pretty silly there by myself with my Mr. Potatohead Darth Vader.
You aren't really bringing Darth Tater, are you?
Yes, yes I am.
This is really the damn headline, folks
Good News on Severed Goat Heads: Satan not Involved
You know how I threatened to rape you with a block of government cheese? I have a counter-offer...
Prison siege ends with compromise of delivered pizzas
OK, people. As you are probably aware, May 18th at midnight, the new Star Wars movie is coming out. And as you can probably figure, I, like the rest of the Star Wars-loving community want to go to the midnight show on Tuesday like I did for the last two because I just don't ever get tired of grown men dressed up in gold Princess Leia bikinis holding a cardboard cutout of Darth Vader. And you don't see that shit at a matinee. Star Wars at midnight has a bit of a Rocky Horror-ness to it without all the fucking in the aisles. So it's not AS fun...but close.
The problem? Due to planetary alignment fucking things up, May 18th appears to be a very inconvenient day for all my friends...well, the friends who ordinarily WOULDN'T find going to a midnight show on a work night inconvenient to begin with. Bull Rider is off riding bulls in Texas, Joe - my stand-by Star Wars guy has INCONVENIENTLY decided to move back to Buffalo, half of my comic friends will be drunk at an open mike (so will I, but I'm willing to locomotion to a theater afterwards), the other half have one of those boyfriend/girlfriend/wife/husband things and have some compulsive urge to stay home and re-define the term "Hump Day", and every one else of my slackerish friends are either out of town or have some kind of work commitment. And the Princess Leia bikini guy? Well, he already has cardboard Darth Vader, and three is a crowd you know.
But, hey, I still want to go, because it's the last damn one. Not to mention, I'm a film student/aficionado/whore and it's mandatory. So anyone who personally knows me and does not live in like Alberta, Canada or San Diego or anywhere outside of the greater Boston area, and wants to go, email me. Because I'm going to look pretty silly there by myself with my Mr. Potatohead Darth Vader.
You aren't really bringing Darth Tater, are you?
Yes, yes I am.
This is really the damn headline, folks
Good News on Severed Goat Heads: Satan not Involved
You know how I threatened to rape you with a block of government cheese? I have a counter-offer...
Prison siege ends with compromise of delivered pizzas
Monday, May 09, 2005
And for the fans of the western/comedy/horror/cannibalism/musical genre
See me dish about Cannibal! The Musical at Classic Horror
See me dish about Cannibal! The Musical at Classic Horror
Saw on the back of a toilet cleaner bottle today
"Safe for both children and pets, but it is recommended that pets do not drink out of the toilet."
So, I'm assuming it's still OK for children to? Because that really saves on my chocolate milk bill when friends bring their spawns over.
Please don't tell me you really call your friends' children "spawns"
Hey, it's an endearing nickname for something so smelly, oozy, and shrieky. They remind me of the Spawn comic book.
But wait, didn't the Spawn comic book completely suck?
The "rules of three" prevented me from making that fourth analogy.
But....but....kids are precious...and cute...and...lovable...
and smelly, oozy, and shrieky. There's a lot to be said for Yin and Yang.
And what would have happened if your Mom had that attitude about kids?
Well, I wouldn't have been around to give her the sweet Mom's Day present I got her this year. Also, she never would have gone to Universal Studios to see Grinchmas and ride The Cat in The Hat ride four times. And she would have to go to all the seedy souvenir shops by herself on family vacations while my brother and father went golfing. So clearly her life would not be as fulfilling.
Couldn't the same be said for you?
Listen, Random Voice in my Blog, I have a cool career, kickass friends, a Bull Rider boyfriend, and I have some kind of penchant for going on stage and attempting to be funny without being naked. I really don't need onesies and twosies and footie pajamas with ass flaps to make my life complete, all right?
So how many times WERE you asked at that baby shower you went to this weekend "come on Jenn, when is it going to be your turn"?
It's that obvious, huh?
"Safe for both children and pets, but it is recommended that pets do not drink out of the toilet."
So, I'm assuming it's still OK for children to? Because that really saves on my chocolate milk bill when friends bring their spawns over.
Please don't tell me you really call your friends' children "spawns"
Hey, it's an endearing nickname for something so smelly, oozy, and shrieky. They remind me of the Spawn comic book.
But wait, didn't the Spawn comic book completely suck?
The "rules of three" prevented me from making that fourth analogy.
But....but....kids are precious...and cute...and...lovable...
and smelly, oozy, and shrieky. There's a lot to be said for Yin and Yang.
And what would have happened if your Mom had that attitude about kids?
Well, I wouldn't have been around to give her the sweet Mom's Day present I got her this year. Also, she never would have gone to Universal Studios to see Grinchmas and ride The Cat in The Hat ride four times. And she would have to go to all the seedy souvenir shops by herself on family vacations while my brother and father went golfing. So clearly her life would not be as fulfilling.
Couldn't the same be said for you?
Listen, Random Voice in my Blog, I have a cool career, kickass friends, a Bull Rider boyfriend, and I have some kind of penchant for going on stage and attempting to be funny without being naked. I really don't need onesies and twosies and footie pajamas with ass flaps to make my life complete, all right?
So how many times WERE you asked at that baby shower you went to this weekend "come on Jenn, when is it going to be your turn"?
It's that obvious, huh?
Saturday, May 07, 2005
In possession of South Park Season 4 and 5
I finally bought these. So my South Park collection is complete! Um, except for Season 1. I have kind of put off on buying it because I've seen all those episodes so many times that I'd never watch it. But I realize how stupid this argument is as I have Simpsons Season 4 still in the shrink wrap from like last year sometime.
And I discovered the reason why one must never turn on South Park before crawling into bed. It is quite difficult falling asleep when you are snorting hot chocolate through your nose every 30 seconds. So I ended up watching disk 1 and 2 of Season 4. And I stand by my assessment that South Park is the freshest thing on TV, and now it is really just pissing on The Simpsons. Don't get me wrong, Simpsons had its time and place, but it's hacking itself now. At least a couple times every South Park season I say "I can't believe they just did THAT." If you aren't watching or you stopped watching, you deserve to be sucker-punched. Or roshamboed. Actually, probably both.
Writing in Stereo
It has come to my attention that I am missing something in my writing life. Apparently, it is another writer. I just took on three collabortive writing projects with three different writers....one being the fabulously funny Andrea Henry. Now I'm sure I don't strike any of you as the type of writer who collaborates well. And there is some truth to that as my agent gave me a tee-shirt for Christmas that says "My Muse Does Not Play Well With Others." And almost all of my collaborative efforts thus far has ended up with me dragging out my alter egos of either, Jenn the Big "what manuscript have YOU pitched lately?" Bully or Jenn the This-Project-Sucks-so-I'll-Offer-Minimal-Input-and-Spend-my-Time-Editing-this Shithead's-Typos-and-omigod-he-really-thinks-the-correct-phrase-is-"nipping it in the butt". But looking back, almost everybody I've collaborated with in the past...ex-nun's excluded (ex-nuns and ex-prison matrons go together like rim jobs and butt plugs)...were entirely too different from me to even think that we could come up with something viable and marketable together. To quote friend Zolton and a cheesy commercial for some product or another, "we were two great tastes, but we didn't taste great together." I was Welcome to the Dollhouse they were The Breakfast Club, get what I'm saying?
So these days I'm choosing who I'm writing with more wisely. And I'm really excited about the writers/comics I've chosen to work with lately, because I think I've finally gotten the "great tastes/taste great together" factor controlled. And if not, Andrea will send her ninja grandmother to kick the shit out of me.
She doesn't really have a ninja grandmother, does she?
Apparently, yes....yes, she does.
I finally bought these. So my South Park collection is complete! Um, except for Season 1. I have kind of put off on buying it because I've seen all those episodes so many times that I'd never watch it. But I realize how stupid this argument is as I have Simpsons Season 4 still in the shrink wrap from like last year sometime.
And I discovered the reason why one must never turn on South Park before crawling into bed. It is quite difficult falling asleep when you are snorting hot chocolate through your nose every 30 seconds. So I ended up watching disk 1 and 2 of Season 4. And I stand by my assessment that South Park is the freshest thing on TV, and now it is really just pissing on The Simpsons. Don't get me wrong, Simpsons had its time and place, but it's hacking itself now. At least a couple times every South Park season I say "I can't believe they just did THAT." If you aren't watching or you stopped watching, you deserve to be sucker-punched. Or roshamboed. Actually, probably both.
Writing in Stereo
It has come to my attention that I am missing something in my writing life. Apparently, it is another writer. I just took on three collabortive writing projects with three different writers....one being the fabulously funny Andrea Henry. Now I'm sure I don't strike any of you as the type of writer who collaborates well. And there is some truth to that as my agent gave me a tee-shirt for Christmas that says "My Muse Does Not Play Well With Others." And almost all of my collaborative efforts thus far has ended up with me dragging out my alter egos of either, Jenn the Big "what manuscript have YOU pitched lately?" Bully or Jenn the This-Project-Sucks-so-I'll-Offer-Minimal-Input-and-Spend-my-Time-Editing-this Shithead's-Typos-and-omigod-he-really-thinks-the-correct-phrase-is-"nipping it in the butt". But looking back, almost everybody I've collaborated with in the past...ex-nun's excluded (ex-nuns and ex-prison matrons go together like rim jobs and butt plugs)...were entirely too different from me to even think that we could come up with something viable and marketable together. To quote friend Zolton and a cheesy commercial for some product or another, "we were two great tastes, but we didn't taste great together." I was Welcome to the Dollhouse they were The Breakfast Club, get what I'm saying?
So these days I'm choosing who I'm writing with more wisely. And I'm really excited about the writers/comics I've chosen to work with lately, because I think I've finally gotten the "great tastes/taste great together" factor controlled. And if not, Andrea will send her ninja grandmother to kick the shit out of me.
She doesn't really have a ninja grandmother, does she?
Apparently, yes....yes, she does.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
I'm a dinosaur apparently
After many emails from former Klik&Players, it appears that Klik&Play is now on the "retired software" gaming programs list. Is it time for Jenntendo Enterprises to upgrade? Is anyone really ready for 3-D tomfoolery?
Eh. I resist change very well. I still have an Atari hooked up to my TV.
After many emails from former Klik&Players, it appears that Klik&Play is now on the "retired software" gaming programs list. Is it time for Jenntendo Enterprises to upgrade? Is anyone really ready for 3-D tomfoolery?
Eh. I resist change very well. I still have an Atari hooked up to my TV.
Who needs Nintendo when you can have Jenntendo?
All right, this means nothing to you, except to the rest of you pathological nerds. For those of you who do not know, I've made a hobby of making funny video games on an old-school, game-making software called Klik&Play. So I have about 25 of them, they are all quite hilarious, and I've been tinkering around with the idea of having a downloadable Jenn's Fuckwitted Gaming Experience of the Month just to amuse you all further. Not to mention, I have entirely too much room on this here website, and I certainly have no meaningful articles or editorials to post. So hey, look for that soon.
Anyway, Klik&Play is a program released in 1994 designed for anyone to make their own video game without a lot of complicated programming jargon. It wasn't all that popular when it came out but picked up popularity later on the Internet after it was taken off the market. You used to be able to download a bare-bones version (just the program with no library of graphics, so essentially you had to make all your own graphics). It is now very difficult to find (It took my 2 years to finally score a complete version on Ebay and that was a couple years ago). This is kind of a shame as it is still a cool program, easy- to-use, very user-friendly while still allowing you to be completely creative, and it fit my needs of making stupid games that made my friends snort their soda through their nose. Just to give you an idea, one of my games is called The Random Game which is essentially just random events strung together as levels. The first level you have to get Beaver Cleaver away from a group of stampeding elephants to get to Pussy Galore from the James Bond movie. Along the way you have to collect Monica Lewinsky's semen-stained dresses. And I think you have to pummel Ron Jeremy with steak hoagies at the end. From an ice cream truck.
But Klik&Play has its limitations, namely that you have to agree to distribute all your games as freeware (so you have no opportunity to make money from them), which is fine because all the games I have made are essentially retarded. Funny...but very, very retarded. However, now I just discovered that this site has a Professional version of Games Factory, a Klik&Play-type program, for sale that allows you to release the games you make commercially. Of course my Klik&Play games would still have to be freeware, but I have an infinite list of ideas for assclown games to taint the world with.
"Hmmm..." she thought as the evil grin started to form...
All right, this means nothing to you, except to the rest of you pathological nerds. For those of you who do not know, I've made a hobby of making funny video games on an old-school, game-making software called Klik&Play. So I have about 25 of them, they are all quite hilarious, and I've been tinkering around with the idea of having a downloadable Jenn's Fuckwitted Gaming Experience of the Month just to amuse you all further. Not to mention, I have entirely too much room on this here website, and I certainly have no meaningful articles or editorials to post. So hey, look for that soon.
Anyway, Klik&Play is a program released in 1994 designed for anyone to make their own video game without a lot of complicated programming jargon. It wasn't all that popular when it came out but picked up popularity later on the Internet after it was taken off the market. You used to be able to download a bare-bones version (just the program with no library of graphics, so essentially you had to make all your own graphics). It is now very difficult to find (It took my 2 years to finally score a complete version on Ebay and that was a couple years ago). This is kind of a shame as it is still a cool program, easy- to-use, very user-friendly while still allowing you to be completely creative, and it fit my needs of making stupid games that made my friends snort their soda through their nose. Just to give you an idea, one of my games is called The Random Game which is essentially just random events strung together as levels. The first level you have to get Beaver Cleaver away from a group of stampeding elephants to get to Pussy Galore from the James Bond movie. Along the way you have to collect Monica Lewinsky's semen-stained dresses. And I think you have to pummel Ron Jeremy with steak hoagies at the end. From an ice cream truck.
But Klik&Play has its limitations, namely that you have to agree to distribute all your games as freeware (so you have no opportunity to make money from them), which is fine because all the games I have made are essentially retarded. Funny...but very, very retarded. However, now I just discovered that this site has a Professional version of Games Factory, a Klik&Play-type program, for sale that allows you to release the games you make commercially. Of course my Klik&Play games would still have to be freeware, but I have an infinite list of ideas for assclown games to taint the world with.
"Hmmm..." she thought as the evil grin started to form...
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
They realize that this headline isn't exactly helping their case, right?
Despite finger, body parts in food rare
And really, why find body parts when you can find a whole other animal entirely
Boy finds snake in cereal
See, Mom, this kind of shit happens when you don't see a problem with keeping monkeys in the household freezer.
Bull-riding on TV
I had to miss the Midway Cafe extravaganza last night because when I got in my automobile to drive there, it decided to start shaking. And I'm pretty sure it wasn't due to me behind the wheel. This turned out to be very wise because my car pretty much broke in half this morning on my way to the T stop, and apparently this happens when you fail to replace things like ball bearings.
Anyway, despite feeling pissed that I could not deliver my mirth last night to the Jamaica Plain comedy groupies, I did get to see bull riding boyfriend on television last night doing his bull riding thing. And he rode his bull quite well, but I realized he could very well be the most illogical person alive. Not because he chooses to ride an obese, bucking, relatively testy, warm-blooded mammal (stop it, stop it, stop it Charlie. And Chrissy. And Jan. And Furry, Amy, and Gene. And.....well, just fuck all of ya). No, he is illogical because he came up to me a couple weeks ago and said:
"I find it very hard to watch you doing comedy, because I get nervous for you. I don't know how you can do that."
Let me just recap:
Despite finger, body parts in food rare
And really, why find body parts when you can find a whole other animal entirely
Boy finds snake in cereal
See, Mom, this kind of shit happens when you don't see a problem with keeping monkeys in the household freezer.
Bull-riding on TV
I had to miss the Midway Cafe extravaganza last night because when I got in my automobile to drive there, it decided to start shaking. And I'm pretty sure it wasn't due to me behind the wheel. This turned out to be very wise because my car pretty much broke in half this morning on my way to the T stop, and apparently this happens when you fail to replace things like ball bearings.
Anyway, despite feeling pissed that I could not deliver my mirth last night to the Jamaica Plain comedy groupies, I did get to see bull riding boyfriend on television last night doing his bull riding thing. And he rode his bull quite well, but I realized he could very well be the most illogical person alive. Not because he chooses to ride an obese, bucking, relatively testy, warm-blooded mammal (stop it, stop it, stop it Charlie. And Chrissy. And Jan. And Furry, Amy, and Gene. And.....well, just fuck all of ya). No, he is illogical because he came up to me a couple weeks ago and said:
"I find it very hard to watch you doing comedy, because I get nervous for you. I don't know how you can do that."
Let me just recap:
- The only absolute required piece of equipment in comedy is a microphone. Knee pads and jock straps and stolen merchandise from a slaughterhouse are all optional.
- According to OSHA, it is not a current requirement for a comedian to receive an inservice called, "How to flag down a rodeo clown."
- At no point during my comedy career was I required to straddle anything that was snorting and had horns unless I really, really wanted to.
- And while people die in both bull riding and comedy, in comedy you are almost certain to meet your demise with no risk of a 500-lb bull shitting on your head.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Whoever told me that I was a good storyteller really needs to be shot in the head
I went on stage at Backside tonight and told the monkey in the freezer story, which thanks to all of you is the most popular story on my site. And it went all right. I gotta tighten it up a bit, but it was the second time out of the stand-up corral in about 3 years, so hey...I can't bitch.
But I can bitch about the comedy style I have adapted recently which I blame on "John." For those of you who didn't know me back in da' day, I used to be more of a one-liner comic until a brilliant established comedian from New York (aka "John") whose opinion I respect implicitly, told me to stop fighting what comes naturally to me, one-liners were "not my style", and my best stuff is my longer, linear stuff. I also used to be very squeaky clean and, well, that went out the window, huh? But I can't blame John on that as that little transformation didn't really come until I worked at the prison. You start hearing about rape with blocks of government cheese, and that ol' innocent meter gets broken really quick.
Anyway, he knew I had many, many, many unusual stories (hellooooooo?????? dead pre-human in the freezer??????). So he said I should go up stage and tell stories about my life for the bulk of my act, because I have a "gift of making them engaging." "Not all comics have that....it's a rarity" he said.
Liar, liar pants on fire.
Because I realized tonight I am not engaging. I am cynical, foul-mouthed, and blunt. What IS engaging? The fact that I grew up with a DAMN....MONKEY....IN....MY....FREEZER. Just saying the words "I had a monkey in my freezer" catches someone's attention, regardless of WHO says it. Yeah, that is definitely a "need more info" scenario which has nothing to do with the way I write/deliver it AT ALL. So essentially what he was saying to me was "hey, you know that stuff you made up in attempts to be funny? Sucks. But your own personal history? That shit is HILARIOUS."
So my life has been reduced to a rubbernecking experience. And the fact that John saw this way back then leads me to the conclusion that John is a big illuminated-with-a-halogen-bulb horse's ass. This means when I see John on Memorial Day, he is not getting any new prisoners-and-the-plants-that-love-them stories or "hey, look what Mom brought home in a Tupperware container!" anecdotes. He just brought on himself a shitload of hack, hack, HACK one-liners I made up about the Buffalo accent. How da you like dat der you freegin Wesside of Chicktavaga, pop-drinkin' son of a Ni-grrr Falls beech? ;-P
But the good thing for my act is there are so many Jenn adventures yet to be revealed:
Above and beyond the monkey in the freezer, my latest top 3 highlighted life moments include:
- The relationship between a Dlugos family vacation and stuffed lobster flying out of a car window
- my scuffle with the law during an unfortunate incident involving a church carnival, an I GOT IT! game, and a ferris wheel.
- My family's close personal relationship to toilet paper rolls doused in flames
And that's not even counting the prison stuff which I wrote a damn book on. And this is the true meaning of laughter therapy, folks. If one audience member feels better about his/her life after hearing about mine, my job is done....well, after the laughter, the convulsions, and the loss of bladder/poop-sphincter control. Every one of my monkey stories stops a pickle barrel from going over da' Falls, that's all I'm saying.
Wait....EVERY one of your monkey stories?
Ah....you didn't know I had more than one. Well, clearly you need to come out to my shows more often. Like tonight at the Midway Cafe. See...that's called "subtlety", folks.
I went on stage at Backside tonight and told the monkey in the freezer story, which thanks to all of you is the most popular story on my site. And it went all right. I gotta tighten it up a bit, but it was the second time out of the stand-up corral in about 3 years, so hey...I can't bitch.
But I can bitch about the comedy style I have adapted recently which I blame on "John." For those of you who didn't know me back in da' day, I used to be more of a one-liner comic until a brilliant established comedian from New York (aka "John") whose opinion I respect implicitly, told me to stop fighting what comes naturally to me, one-liners were "not my style", and my best stuff is my longer, linear stuff. I also used to be very squeaky clean and, well, that went out the window, huh? But I can't blame John on that as that little transformation didn't really come until I worked at the prison. You start hearing about rape with blocks of government cheese, and that ol' innocent meter gets broken really quick.
Anyway, he knew I had many, many, many unusual stories (hellooooooo?????? dead pre-human in the freezer??????). So he said I should go up stage and tell stories about my life for the bulk of my act, because I have a "gift of making them engaging." "Not all comics have that....it's a rarity" he said.
Liar, liar pants on fire.
Because I realized tonight I am not engaging. I am cynical, foul-mouthed, and blunt. What IS engaging? The fact that I grew up with a DAMN....MONKEY....IN....MY....FREEZER. Just saying the words "I had a monkey in my freezer" catches someone's attention, regardless of WHO says it. Yeah, that is definitely a "need more info" scenario which has nothing to do with the way I write/deliver it AT ALL. So essentially what he was saying to me was "hey, you know that stuff you made up in attempts to be funny? Sucks. But your own personal history? That shit is HILARIOUS."
So my life has been reduced to a rubbernecking experience. And the fact that John saw this way back then leads me to the conclusion that John is a big illuminated-with-a-halogen-bulb horse's ass. This means when I see John on Memorial Day, he is not getting any new prisoners-and-the-plants-that-love-them stories or "hey, look what Mom brought home in a Tupperware container!" anecdotes. He just brought on himself a shitload of hack, hack, HACK one-liners I made up about the Buffalo accent. How da you like dat der you freegin Wesside of Chicktavaga, pop-drinkin' son of a Ni-grrr Falls beech? ;-P
But the good thing for my act is there are so many Jenn adventures yet to be revealed:
Above and beyond the monkey in the freezer, my latest top 3 highlighted life moments include:
- The relationship between a Dlugos family vacation and stuffed lobster flying out of a car window
- my scuffle with the law during an unfortunate incident involving a church carnival, an I GOT IT! game, and a ferris wheel.
- My family's close personal relationship to toilet paper rolls doused in flames
And that's not even counting the prison stuff which I wrote a damn book on. And this is the true meaning of laughter therapy, folks. If one audience member feels better about his/her life after hearing about mine, my job is done....well, after the laughter, the convulsions, and the loss of bladder/poop-sphincter control. Every one of my monkey stories stops a pickle barrel from going over da' Falls, that's all I'm saying.
Wait....EVERY one of your monkey stories?
Ah....you didn't know I had more than one. Well, clearly you need to come out to my shows more often. Like tonight at the Midway Cafe. See...that's called "subtlety", folks.
Monday, May 02, 2005
Choice quote from the prison this weekend
In regards to one of the managers leaving, another employee said:
"NOW who am I going to talk to about the prostitution ring on the geriatric floor?"
Oh, hey....how was Putnam?
Eh. Sparse crowd, but I got to hang around with a comic friend I haven't seen in a while, and Scott (who runs the room) has a great Slip-N-Slide joke. So, it was still a pleasant evening.
Ooooh....are you performing anywhere tonight?
Why, funny you should ask. I'm at the Backside Tavern Comedy Night. And it would be super sweet if you could come down because tonight is the big Marshfield town meeting and apparently people in Marshfield actually care about their town meetings enough to:
a) know there is a town meeting going on
b) actually go to them
Therefore, we're planning on performing to random bar stools, a fish reuben or two, and --if we're lucky-- a couple pathologically unsound hobos drifting from Pembroke.
In regards to one of the managers leaving, another employee said:
"NOW who am I going to talk to about the prostitution ring on the geriatric floor?"
Oh, hey....how was Putnam?
Eh. Sparse crowd, but I got to hang around with a comic friend I haven't seen in a while, and Scott (who runs the room) has a great Slip-N-Slide joke. So, it was still a pleasant evening.
Ooooh....are you performing anywhere tonight?
Why, funny you should ask. I'm at the Backside Tavern Comedy Night. And it would be super sweet if you could come down because tonight is the big Marshfield town meeting and apparently people in Marshfield actually care about their town meetings enough to:
a) know there is a town meeting going on
b) actually go to them
Therefore, we're planning on performing to random bar stools, a fish reuben or two, and --if we're lucky-- a couple pathologically unsound hobos drifting from Pembroke.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
As I haven't been tied to a stake by religious zealots in a while, I bring you
Jenn's Proper Etiquette During the Apocalypse
Oh, you don't get sweeter, folks
I did a new comedy room in Portland, Maine last night. First of all, the dynamics of the room are fucking amazing--it has a bit of a hippie-theater-with-a-bar look, so I was pretty happy from the get go. Tammy Pooler, who runs the room, was fabulous, the room was jumping with people, and I met a lot of really cool Portland-type comics. And the comics got free booze. Really, how can it get better?
Oh, but it does. Because the audience was ON last night. The audience was so great and receptive that the latest 10 minutes or so I've been working out for the last couple of months....I just nailed it. Or they were really, really drunk. Either one. And by some stroke of luck or ginseng or whatever, I actually remembered to bring my camcorder and I actually got this on tape. So, if it actually came out good, hey, I got myself my brand new audition tape. And after the show I got approached by a guy who gave me a corporate gig while I was walking down the alley to my car (which is the preferred place for one to receive new comedy business, by the way). So, boo-yah for that.
And an interesting thing happened. While I was on stage, a couple of people said to another comic who was having a smoke break, "We saw her (meaning me) perform in New Market, New Hampshire!" which is quite a ways away from Portland, Maine, by the way. So, apparently I have a brand new traveling fan club or some really supportive stalkers. Or perhaps I am the demi-god of a New Hampshire cult. That would be cool. How many people can act on their brainwashing fantasies, huh?
And tonight...Putnam, CT!
Um, where? Yeah...that's what I said. Apparently it is somewhere right after Rhode Island. And they serve pizza, from what I hear.
Jenn's Proper Etiquette During the Apocalypse
Oh, you don't get sweeter, folks
I did a new comedy room in Portland, Maine last night. First of all, the dynamics of the room are fucking amazing--it has a bit of a hippie-theater-with-a-bar look, so I was pretty happy from the get go. Tammy Pooler, who runs the room, was fabulous, the room was jumping with people, and I met a lot of really cool Portland-type comics. And the comics got free booze. Really, how can it get better?
Oh, but it does. Because the audience was ON last night. The audience was so great and receptive that the latest 10 minutes or so I've been working out for the last couple of months....I just nailed it. Or they were really, really drunk. Either one. And by some stroke of luck or ginseng or whatever, I actually remembered to bring my camcorder and I actually got this on tape. So, if it actually came out good, hey, I got myself my brand new audition tape. And after the show I got approached by a guy who gave me a corporate gig while I was walking down the alley to my car (which is the preferred place for one to receive new comedy business, by the way). So, boo-yah for that.
And an interesting thing happened. While I was on stage, a couple of people said to another comic who was having a smoke break, "We saw her (meaning me) perform in New Market, New Hampshire!" which is quite a ways away from Portland, Maine, by the way. So, apparently I have a brand new traveling fan club or some really supportive stalkers. Or perhaps I am the demi-god of a New Hampshire cult. That would be cool. How many people can act on their brainwashing fantasies, huh?
And tonight...Putnam, CT!
Um, where? Yeah...that's what I said. Apparently it is somewhere right after Rhode Island. And they serve pizza, from what I hear.
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