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    Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
    Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts

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    Well today is Christmas and the first night of Hanukkah.  Hanukkah will conclude in January.  I don’t remember that ever happening before, but I’m sure it must have.  Have a good everything.




     

    The night before the winter solstice and my birthday was the show at The Artist on City Island.  The weather reports were threatening a snowstorm.  Here in the Bronx, nothing stuck, it was not at all a storm, and we just had wet ground.  However, the comics were coming from Staten Island, Long Island, and Brooklyn.  So for a few hours, I was not sure one of them was going to brave it.  I don’t drive at all, so when a driver feels hesitant about driving in challenging weather, I get it. 

     

    It all worked out.  Then there was the mystery of how many audience members will show up.  The weather reports were not on our side.  Still, more people came than I thought.  And it was a good show.

     

            Elliot Glick introducing the show and welcoming the audience warmly.  He's one of my favorite people.




     

                Me enjoying a comic.

     




     

               Helaine showing us how she was coached to pose.

     

     

                Half of us looking like the Rockettes.

     





             My bestie’s girlfriend suggested they take me out to dinner the next day on my birthday.  We went to Neem, an Indian restaurant in Riverdale (in the Bronx, N.Y.).  It was so relaxing, no rushing, no having to get anywhere else.  We ate and talked and drank (well I drank).  It was very nice and generous of them.  It gave me something to look forward to.  I was grateful.

     

    If you are into starting 2025 with poetry, you might want to attend some of this extravaganza which runs from 2-10pm at 55 Bethune Street in the community room.  It is FREE.  Each reader reads for 3 minutes, so if you don’t like someone, it will end soon.  There is an open mic list included if you want your 3 minutes.  The open mic-ers are usually sprinkled throughout the day.

     



     

    The local news breaks my heart – people losing their lives over stupid shit.  Their families devastated at holiday time.  Horrible.  Then a dictator coming into office in January.  God/dess help us all.

     

    Let’s embrace laughter to help us get through.  The Eat Drink Laugh show at Pangea (NYC) on January 24th at 9pm will lift your spirits.

     



     

     

    Loads of love to CGG-M    ❤❤❤

     

    Mindy Matijasevic

    December 2024

     

     

     


    Posted by Mindy Matijasevic at 3:54 AM | Labels: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 0 comments | |

  2. Another December

    Sunday, December 25, 2022


     







    On 12/21, I turned a new age.  I went out with two friends who gave me generous gifts, their company, good food, and many drinks.  Maybe because it was a weeknight (no re-routing; no track work), my train trip home was fast and easy. 

     

    Though I bought two boxes of Christmas cards, I never wrote them out or sent them. 

     

    I spent Christmas Eve awake all night watching Forensic Files’ “Twelve Crimes of Christmas.” 

     

    I spent all Christmas Day asleep.  When I went to the store, I was grateful it wasn’t windy.  The freezing temperatures are bad enough.



     

    This year, the last night of Hanukkah is on Christmas night.  So tomorrow, both are behind us.

     

    My holidays did not include any of this:




    or this:




    I remain grateful. 

     




    Much love to CGG-M  ❤❤❤

    Mindy Matijasevic

    Christmas Night 2022

     

    Posted by Mindy Matijasevic at 7:19 PM | Labels: , , , , | 0 comments | |

  3. Happy New Year! by Rhonda Hansome

    Thursday, December 27, 2012

    Happy New Year!


    Stockings may be hanging by the chimney, but it’s the day after Christmas and I desperately need a pair of warm black tights that don’t fit like a torture device. So I venture to find tights in a Bullet department store.  I’ll use true brand names as soon as I figure out how to monetize unsolicited corporate mentions in my blog, soon to be vlog, after I organize a committee to prepare a bi-partisan report advising me how to avoid my too many electronic platforms, not enough technical support cliff.  

    Have I digressed already?  Be warned I am amazingly adept at taking flight on tangents. In fact it is my most endearing quality.  Anyway, day after Christmas entering Bullet department store, the return / exchange line, 3 people deep, stretches all the way to the greeting card section; where employees were putting on display, wait for it… Valentine’s Day cards!

     

    Whoa Nellie!  Can I get through the greetings for this year’s remaining holidays?

    Happy Kwanzaa!



                                        


    By the way, I’m still looking for those elusive black textured tights. 




    Maybe I’ll find them by Valentine's Day!

    Posted by RHC at 6:30 AM | Labels: , , , , | 2 comments | |

  4. The Circle of Life

    Tuesday, December 25, 2012


     
    I am happy to be able to say I was in a show on 12/20/12 and did well.  I needed that.  I made conscious improvements, and I just was more comfortable partly because I had been there before.  When I got down from the stage, other comics gave me knuckles (the pound, I believe is what it’s called).  Later, the comics and some audience members complimented me.  Things felt good again in this arena.

    I stayed and watched the whole show.  That is always my preference.  I like to step back and look at the whole canvas.  Some people create a work of art when putting a show together; others may slop it together more but it can still come out well.  Many make room to put comics in who drop by unexpectedly while others have their show planned and that’s that.  I understand both choices. 

    When I had shows, I gave lots of thought to who I booked and the order of the line-up from the viewpoint of the audience.  I charged and wanted people leaving feeling happy with their evening out.  So I didn’t book anyone I’d never heard perform, I made programs, and I wasn’t open to surprise performers and especially if I’d never heard them perform.  Sometimes that led to uncomfortable moments where a comic heard about my show, came, introduced himself to me, but didn’t expect to pay as a guest and would ask to be put on the show.  No to being on the show – it was not an open mic.  (Lisa Harmon’s mom paid, for goodness sake.  And she’d eat and drink and enjoy the show.)  I’d let the comic stay for free, but the place expected everyone to buy something.  Hearing, “I’m a comic” did nothing for the small bar/restaurants trying to keep their place in existence.  These were not comedy clubs but were open to me having shows in their establishments.

    When going over everything in my mind, I come to the same conclusion much of the time.  I like my material.  I need to work on my comfort up there.  Some audiences are easier than others for different types of comedy, but I want to be able to do my best in all kinds of scenarios. 

    When I was up there, I caught myself doing what my friend pointed out at the show where I did not do well.  I stopped and consciously planted myself and didn’t move around without a reason.  That helped me feel centered, and I even felt comfortable enough to address the noisy people in the back who may have been waiting for the music show that would follow.   I didn’t bring notes up there; no writing on my hand either.  I relaxed my brain enough to trust myself to remember.


    Another interesting thing for me to note for myself was that a comic in the show where I didn’t do so well was in both shows, and while he did well in the one I didn’t, he did not as well in the one where I did do well.  It can all change from one show to the next.  He’s funny.  But he had to work harder in the latter.  Seeing that helped me feel normal in terms of the journey.  We each have our night.  Sometimes in that circle, it is my turn.  

    The next day, 12/21, was my birthday which was good in the important ways, and the world did not end.  I’m glad.  I wasn’t afraid, but I would’ve felt further gypped. 

    Twenty-one years ago today, 12/25, I was going home from the hospital with my 2-day-old baby boy. 



     Merry Christmas.  More importantly, be Christmas.
    …
    After writing this, I learned my oldest aunt passed away on my birthday. 
    Selma, may you be in real peace and know the love of my mother and God.  Thank you, in spite of many feelings, for helping to keep me out of the foster care system when I was seven.  It was the right thing to do.


    Posted by Mindy Matijasevic at 12:00 AM | Labels: , , , , , , | 5 comments | |




  5. Hey, we're still alive
    That means I have to buy gifts
    For all the bitches


    Basically, this peom reflects upon the frailty of life and the underlying fear that the planet earth was going to emplode in flames brought on by the devel and Mrs. Christ, you get my drift? Thought 'Jesus' was a dude? Well you're an idiot. And then it takes you on a journey of the realization that, in fact, our bodies are all still in tact and we experience an initial sense of joy that swiftly transforms into rage beacause now we need to buy Aunt Carol that Red Lobster gift card and Uncle Jeff that gay fleece blanket from JC Penney's and I should probably get some shit for my parents new dog or else I'm a horrible person. Great, now I need to travel to dutch country for 7 days and eat potatoe cheese puffs for a year and feel bad about myself. This is basically what I was trying to communicate in the poem I just wrote that you read. You would think I'm on some sort of substanct right now, but nope. Pure brain power. Should have been in the special classes in elementary school, parents missed that boat. Thanks mom and dad.


    Have a great holiday (Christmas) eveeryone (Christians)!!!!


    PS, when you google image search "drunk christmas holocaust" the above image is what you get. Pretty kewl.

    xoxoxoKrystyna

    Posted by Krystyna Hutchinson at 12:23 PM | Labels: , , , , | 1 comments | |

  6. Memories of Awkward Christmases Past

    Monday, December 17, 2012


    Of course the time is 6pm and my blog isn’t posted.  What did you expect?  And if you think my timeliness with my blog entries is bad, you should see me on Christmas Eve (and day) trying to scratch up last minute gifts.  Yes, I’ve been known to open gifts neatly on Christmas morning and then use the same paper to wrap gifts for others because I’d neglected to buy wrapping paper.

    Since I’m pretty tired, and dinner’s not made yet, I think I’ll let the ghost of awkward Christmas past take over my brain and share some memories.  You do realize, at this stage of the game, that I am anything but graceful, physically or socially.  Never was.

    I was a child of about 12 still donning my Dorothy Hamill haircut whilst my other more socially acceptable friends had grown out their Olympiad skater quaffs.  I was teetering on the edge popular grammar school kid and free falling toward junior high school outcast.  My friends were into fashion and going to USA, United Skates of America, with the hopes of landing in the penalty box with a dreamy fella after a couple’s only skate (probably to You Are My Shining Star or Escape aka Pina Colada).  I, on the other hand, would enjoy the food bonanza that snack bar offered… 4 piping hot rectangles of pizza and as much Coke as I could get my grubby paws on.

    It was winter of my first year in junior high.  My friend, Lisa, was having a pre-Christmas slumber party with some old friends from elementary school and some of her new friends from junior high.  That was the year that Lisa and I had started to drift apart, despite our promises to be the next Laverne and Shirley, and I suspect her mom made her invite me over.  This was my chance regain my cool status after the gym suit / locker room debacle in earlier that September.

    (Flash-Flash Back:  7th grade junior high was the year we started changing for gym.  The style in 1980 was maroon gym shorts and a matching maroon Clifton t-shirt - purchased at Meltzer’s Sporting Goods.  In September, I kept telling my mother that I needed to get a gym uniform.  She told me not to worry - that she had my sister’s gym uniform from when she was in Junior High 8 years before.  Monday morning rolled around and my mother brought out my sister’s old one-piece gym uniform with ruffled, elastic sleeves, a cinched elastic waist, the bottom part that looked like bloomers from the 20s , and “A. DeRose” embroidered on the front pocket.  To say that I was horrified would be a gross understatement. Later that day, whilst changing in the girls’ locker room, some young gals noticed that I did not yet own a bra as I had nothing for which to fill one in.  They, in turn, told the young fellas in my class and thus, my name became No Bra FOR THREE YEARS!).

    Flash forward to Lisa’s slumber party.  We were to have loads of food, fun, and even a holiday grab bag.  My first error of the evening was suggesting that we get a tape-recorder and act out fake news reports, record fart noises during our news stories, and then play it back over and over again just like Lisa and I had done when we were in 3rd grade.  They preferred to call the boys that they liked and hang up on them.  Boooring!

    My penultimate error was my choice in sleepwear.  The girls were all wearing sweats and t-shirts.  I had on the Foxy Lady nightgown that my mother made for me when I was in 4th grade.  My Aunt Linda also made one for my cousin, Amy.   We looked like little twins.  As a matter of fact, I think my mom and aunt made several and sold them at the church holiday bazaar a few years prior.

    At last, the finale.  The grab bag.  As the screamy girls were all unwrapping make-up, brushes, mirrors, The Preppy Handbook, one of the new junior high friends opened my big surprise.  Apparently, my contribution of a whoopee cushion and slime wasn’t as well-received as I thought it would be. MY TURN!  All eyes on me, I gleefully I tore into the neatly wrapped package with gusto and screamed with enthusiasm (trying to match their shrieks of delight), “oooh myYY GOD!  I LOVE BOOGIE!  I JUST LOVE BOOGIE!”  Silence.  And then I heard someone say, “Um, it’s called Boggle.  Glad you like it?”  You know, it was an honest mistake.  Look at the picture.  A fleeting glance at that L on top of the L could kind of make you think it said BOOGIE!



    The girls continued with their prank phone calls to their cute boyfriends while I sat by the side, turning the little sand timer that came with Boogie over and over until it was time to go to sleep.

    The next morning I left and went to my friend Carrie’s house.  Carrie had been a good friend, particularly in September.  She lent me one of her bras after the locker room incident until my mom could get to Caldor to buy me one of my own.  The rest of that weekend, Carrie and I made Christmas cookies, rode our banana seat bikes around the chilly neighborhood looking at the Christmas lights, and watched A Charlie Brown Christmas.

    Not so bad after all.  I think I’ll go play Boogie with the kids.

    Posted by She So Funny at 4:32 PM | Labels: , , | 1 comments | |