I Left My Shins at the San Francisco Picasso Art Exhibit.

   Just returned from a trip to San Franciso where we brought our 19 year old daughter back to school for her Sophomore year.  It's alot less rough the second time around when her very excited friends are there to meet and greet her.  I even got to experience what is to be invisible!

     I enjoyed being the parent with no pressure to appear cool in any way, shape or form.  (My husband is so far off the scale of cool, he refers to himself as a "hipster."  He's actually more "retro" since he can't let go of the 60's fedora, sweater vest and argyle socks.)

     If you ever plan on going to San Francisco, start walking uphill now ... or maybe, yesterday.  Believe it or not, I trained for the trip, walking on my treadmill at elevations of eight and ten for two months.  The mistake I made is that I did not practice walking downhill.  By day two of our trips, I had shinsplints that would make a soccer goalie swoon. 

     I reached my peak of pain at the Museum of Fine Art when we walked slowly through the Picasso art exhibit.  Now I'm not sure if my feet and shins hurt too much or if Picasso had really ugly friends, but I just didn't get it.  Call me unsophisticated, unrefined or in need of a good foot rubbing but cubism seems like a scam.  Being a comedian, I entertained myself with my own thoughts as I sat on a bench and waited for my husband and daughter to inspect the paintings.  "How did this guy keep any friends?  Once he turned the canvass around and said, 'This is you', I think that would have been it!" And was that couple with the cockeyed heads who were painted running down the beach really that homely?  I bet they thought they looked cute that day.  What about the lady who had her arm coming out of the side of her head.  Did she jump up infuriated and say, "Listen, my little Pic, did I really have to sit here all day for that?!  I am so outa here!"

     Maybe an Aleve or a masseuse would have changed my whole perspective or brightened my spirit.  Perhaps Picasso was a hipster and I was the one wearing a sweater vest that day.  Trying to think of the "good" news, I decided my next career could be that of a cubistic artist.  I can't draw, I can't paint and yet my friends would think my contorted efforts were inventive and creative.  Now that I think about it, maybe this Picasso guy was really on to something!

When you Can't Button Your "Fat" Pants....

    Everyone has a moment when they look in the mirror and say, "That's it.  I'm going on a diet!"  For some, the sentiment kicks in when the scale tips a mere five pounds over the line.  For others, it's when the ambulance comes with the extra wide stretcher and they take a power saw to the front of your house because they want you star in a new reality show called "Wide Load."  Despite this disparity, the point remains - when a woman feels fat - she feels fat.  Oddly enough, the anorexic often feels "fat" too.

    My moment came two weeks ago when my "fat" pants wouldn't button anymore.  My desire to procrastinate had reached it's end.  There was nowhere to turn but Kohl's with a 30% coupon.  Did I really want to start a new wardrobe from scratch?  I was backed into a muffin-topped corner.

     Two years ago, my weight reached 162.  Incredibly, my pregnant weight was 160.  This alone sounds like the start to a very scary story.  Despite this weight gain, I didn't see myself much differently.  I have a theory about women - we tend to see ourselves as we looked in high school.  We're oblivious to the weight that gradually forms on our thighs, buttocks and waist until someone appears with that video from hell.

     Being on stage has been a godsend in this regard.  A video shakes a skewed picture of reality and quickly answers the age-old question "Do I look fat?"  My realistic video came at Taste of Chicago two years ago.  I had my son tape me on the comedy stage.  I was wearing a full pleated top (of course) that could easily have been bought in the maternity section.  When I saw the tape, I thought, "No need to throw those old baby jokes away just yet."  I was horrified.  "Is this what I look like?"  "But I thought I was still that skinny girl in high school!  Where'd she go? No wonder no one tells me how skinny I am anymore!  Wow - I've been really out of touch."

     I tested the waters.  I told a neighbor who tipped the scales at 450 pounds that I was thinking of going on a diet.  Her response, "What diet are you thinking of going on?"  That's it!  Why didn't she scream, "You - diet!  But you're so skinny!"  I had to take action fast.

     I immediately considered Weight Watchers but I know I like to eat food when I handle it - not weigh it.  I thought of cooking those special light calorie meals from my special light calorie meal cookbook.  Nope.  I can't cook that way.  It's just too depressing.

     I decided to join Jenny Craig.  The food comes in little boxes.  When the little boxes are empty that's the signal to stop eating.  Yes.  I would need that big of hint.  I called Jenny Craig and they said, "Come in now...or sooner!"  (I like that strategy - don't let women think twice about giving up their chocolate cake and ice cream.)

     The Jenny diet worked like magic!  I was able to drop 20 pounds in 10 weeks and the only new clothes that I bought were labeled "Size 8."  I am a lifetime member of Jenny.  When the pounds go up - I run for help.  The extra cost of food is a small price to pay in exchange for what could become any looming weight gain medical issues.  Best of all, it took my out of my "I look the same as I did in high school trance."  Stand on stage ladies and take a video, it's a wake up call that lasts a lifetime!

     In mid-July I was desperate to practice a five minute set.  I was preparing for The World Series of Comedy Competition in St. Charles.  The material I chose was very familiar to me but I had not yet put it together to assure myself that it did indeed equal five minutes.  The World Series of Comedy wanted a short and sweet five minutes.

    After scouring the internet, I realize the only "new talent" or "showcase" club feasible for me to practice this five minutes was in Schaumburg at the Laff Out Loud Theater.  I had heard that comedians could do brief sets every other Sunday at this club.  Generally new talents show up and go up.  I had this in mind when I went to the theater's site to find showtimes.  What happened next stunned me and saddened me.

    In order to perform five minutes at The Laff Out Loud Theater, it is necessary to sign up and pay $5.00 by credit card including $1.26 in tax!??!  (Tax?  Taxing what?)  In order to do five minutes of standup comedy after 30 years of stage experience - I had to pay?!  Wow!

    Did I sign up?  Of course I did - out of morbid curiosity.

   Ten days later I drove out to Schaumburg and entered the Laff Out Loud Theater foyer.  I was surrounded by about 15 young comics - the average age was 21.  All I could think was, "Why?"  "Why is this club taking advantage of your drive?  Why don't you know any better?  Why did it come to this again?"

  I performed my short five minute set early in the evening and was out the door by 9:00.  I wanted to leave that environment because it caused my heart to ache for all of those young creative spirits.  If only they could understand how a respectful career in comedy really is supposed to be.

Comedians Pay - $2.00 and a Free Drink!?

     New young comedians are now paying to take the stage!  Certainly this must be a joke!  (Pun may be intended - it's your call.)

     As a new comedian, I was thrilled to perform.  I started at the Comedy Cottage in Rosemont, IL where comedians could perform for 5 minutes and receive $2 in pay, plus a free drink.  No one questioned the pay.  We were so happy to be on stage in a room that was "hot."

   The Comedy Cottage was an ideal size for stand up comedy and it had great acoustics.  It was a money making a machine!  Did I mention that the performers were paid $2.00?  Oh yes, I think I did.

  On both the east and west coasts, comedy was hot.  Jay Leno, Jerry Seinfeld, David Letterman, Drew Carey were just a few of the comedians getting their start.  They performed at places like "Catch A Rising Star" in N.Y. and "The Comedy Store" in L.A.  Their pay - $5.  The club owner referred to it as "gas money."  The stand up comedy club scene was on fire.  The clubs were raking it in.  Did I mention that Jay Leno (who has always been a superior comedian) received $5.  Yep.  I think I did.

    Eventually the comics cried, "Enough is Enough!" and the comedy writers and performers went on strike.  They demanded to be paid.  They demanded respect.  They wanted to be appreciated.  I can personally tell you that while the writers strike was on, television entertainment was at an all new low.  I sure missed the talents of my incredibly funny peers.

  The result of the strike was a decent paycheck for services rendered.  Comedy is a business too.  Comedians need food and shelter and they need to be appreciated for their talents.  The strike made the world seem right again!  (More tomorrow on the comedy scene.)

Best Case Scenario - Your Child Leaves Home - Hmmmmm

     They say that the sign of success when bringing up children is that they grow up and leave.  Can someone come up with another sign please?  This payoff doesn't sound so good.
     Mothers are torn between wanting to see their children accomplish great things and staying home forever and ever. Have you seen parents drop their children off at college for the first time? Bobby or Susie immediately blends into the sea of other excited Freshmen while mom and dad linger lost in their own aching hearts. Often, colleges will post the time for parent departure for fear that dad will don his old football uniform and beg his boy to throw around the ball just one last time.
     My first son, Brendan, just graduated from the University of Chicago with honors in Physics.  (Yes.  I'm beaming.  I'm a comedian and yet I gave birth to a physicist.  God has a great sense of humor.  No wonder he was such a tough crowd.)  We went to Brendan's graduation knowing what his exciting future held.  He'd been picked from the graduating class, along with one other physics major, to go to Switzerland to work at the CERN Nuclear Collider for one year - paid!  My husband and I couldn't be more proud.  We've high-fived, Facebooked, Skyed and Twittered from the rooftops.
  In my quieter moments, I was thinking something quite different.  (Bear in mind, I often think in ways to entertain myself.)  THEY JUST KIDNAPPED MY KID.  I did everything right, read all the Mommy books, attended the soccer games, made the chocolate chip cookies and bought him the expensive calculator.  The result of my efforts were an INTERNATIONAL KIDNAPPING.  How come Switzerland gets him!
  I Gmail Chatted with Brendan this morning as he watched over a number of controls at the CERN facility.  He's been in Geneva for two months now and is doing great!  To Brendan, this is an adventure of a lifetime and it will propel him even faster toward his dreams.  We are all so proud!  Secretly, I know I had the most wonderful adventure of watching this all come to be.  It started when he was six years old in the backseat of our minivan when he asked, "Mom, what do you think about black holes?"  Being a comedian I was speechless and thought, "Yikes.  This parenting thing sure would be a lot easier if I could just answer with a joke!"