This Friday night!!! 8pm
These women are bringing it for International Women's Day!
For tickets in advance: March 8th Comedy Show
Hilarity guaranteed. Hope to see you.
Mindy Matijasevic / March 2024
With constant love to CGG-M ❤❤❤
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Whattaya doing for Int'l Women's Day?
Monday, March 4, 2024
249 City Island Avenue/ BX29 bus stops a half block away. Cover only $15. Light fare (vegetarian-inclusive) and delicious desserts by Jenny's Sweets available for purchase if desired; not required! You may even BYOB.| Labels: comedy show, Jenny's Sweets, Joanna Briley, Mindy Matijasevic, Ruthy Ferrera, Shelly Colman, stand-up comedy, The Artist, Women in Comedy | 0 comments | |
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The Bronx Isn't Burning, I Am By Rhonda Hansome
Friday, September 8, 2017
The Bronx has Yankee Stadium, a world class Botanical Garden, and an award winning zoo. I live in the Bronx - and I hate it.
I grew up in the borough of churches, Brooklyn, the county of Kings.I can’t forget Paul Newman’s eyes in Fort Apache the Bronx or Melanie Griffith’s baby woman lilt in Bonfire of the Vanities. Those movies painted for me the soul of the Bronx and convinced me I preferred my gritty NY, Brooklyn style.
It’s not that Brooklyn was less violent, or had a lower drug fueled body count. I just loved the county of my birth.Not really. As a child, “Bed-Stuy do or die!” was "Mostly die!" The violence, drugs and burned out buildings made me want to leave as soon as I could. And I did.
I left with Phil, my high school sweetheart, to a 5 flight walk up on E.110th St.
The Young Lords collected our rent and junkies paused mid-fix to let us pass by.
We were an interracial Romeo & Juliet, searching for our Camelot. When we said goodbye to Spanish Harlem, Brooklyn welcomed us back. For a time we lived rent free as sextons of an Ocean Ave. church, then moved to a 1 bedroom (in an elevator building!) on Linden Blvd. near Bedford Ave. When Flatbush began to feel too provincial, we found cosmopolitan cache in lower Manhattan.
It was a short walk to Soho, China Town, The Village and Little Italy, but even taxis didn't know the route to our new home off the Hudson. No neighborhood stores, banks or streetlights for Washington Market area pioneers, made moving to Independence Plaza an even more romantic adventure.
We settled down and had a son.
In the years that followed I was shocked to find myself in THE center of the universe, when Robert De Niro christened MY neighborhood - Tribeca. Now, we had stores; but just to buy coffee I had to pick my way through a gaggle of celebrities, like Naomi Campbell, John John Kennedy, Nathan Lane and that's just in August when no one is in NY.Phil and I made it through 9/11 but not our marital strife.
When divorce sent me packing back to Brooklyn I found a great one bedroom in a neglected brownstone. I was so depressed, the only time I laughed was when EVERY visitor and I do mean EVERYONE said,
"You should rent your walk-in closet. You could get 7 or 800 a month."
"On Macon St. and Malcolm X?" (I laughed)
I was alone for the first time in my life. No husband, no work, no health insurance. My only comfort was that the hood reminded me of simpler times: Red Light Green Light 1-2-3! and Double-Dutch with that girl who was always double handed.
My life was in tatters. Emotionally adrift and so distracted, I didn't notice that the center of the universe followed me to Bed-Stuy. The lone white family on Macon St. should have been my 1st clue. Then, I missed a 2nd clue - The A train.
Usually on the A train, after Borough Hall, my fellow travelers were all melanin gifted. One night at my stop, Utica Ave., I looked at the crowd on the train and left wondering, "Where are all those white people going? Somewhere for Scientology?"
I finally got the message when the city repaved Nostrand Ave. and put benches at bus stops on Fulton St. I saw white people: walking at midnight, heads in i-phones - not even looking up! Blonds and redheads jogging in their little shorts and walking their little dogs; and that was just the men.
House after house was sold and bought changing the complexion of my block. For a minute I considered buying the brownstone I lived in. The broker said it didn't matter I was unemployed, because payments wouldn't increase until much later that year.
When the brown skin sister who wrote for the NY Post bought my building I thought, "I got this!"
Little did I know I'd dodged a sub-prime mortgage bullet only to get hit with a rent increase cannon ball.
When my lease was almost up, Sister Land Lady informed me I could stay another year at double the rent. Yes, double the rent! My random extra work on movies and TV, left me with a thousand dollar budget for shelter.
Because white kids, from I don't know where, were eager to pay 3 times my "reasonable rent", I had 3 months to leave.
"Mayor DeBlasio's Affordable Housing lottery is a joke." I tweeted daily.
All I wanted was a nice 1 bedroom for a thousand dollars a month.
After 9 months of looking and a nervous breakdown, I bought a co-op in the South Bronx. Yes, I bought a co-op, because I didn't earn enough money for "affordable housing"; except the two times they told me I made too much???!!!
Yes, the Affordable Housing lottery is a joke.
The first week I moved to Soundview, there was a murder around the corner. After 2 years, I'm use to the helicopter noise and fleet of emergency vehicles investigating the monthly shootings.
When I notice I've no friends near, nor shops I prefer, not even my bank close by; I feel petty AND sad that I bought an apartment in Fort Apache, The Bronx. Speaking of movies...
Down the street on a lot just off Bruckner Blvd., York studios broke ground on a $100 million dollar studio for movie and TV production.
No the Bronx isn't burning.
The heat I feel is the center of the universe breathing down my neck.Rhonda Hansome (actress, directorstoryteller & stand up comic)Heard 2-5 PM Mondays on SiriusXMCh 121 with John Fugelsang.
| Labels: Affordable Housing, Bed-Stuy, Black Women In Comedy, Bronx, Brooklyn, Robert Di Nero, Soundview, Tribeca, Women in Comedy, Yankee Stadium, York Studios Soundview, Young Lords | 7 comments | |
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Feeling Some Kinda Of Way By Rhonda Hansome
Thursday, March 2, 2017
Feeling some kinda way
In a Blues for Mr. Charlie
Or Dutchman kinda way
When you're trying
To not kill somebody -
Anybodies
Because of something said
So you paint the sky, sculpt,
Sing or blow a sax until it cries
Hurt into memory
I was in the company of aquaintances and got eyeball deep in my feelings.
"Principal?"
A one word question seared my soul. I had not said I had lines. I didn't even call it acting. I said I had spent a day walking around a cemetary and had used my car on a TV shoot.
Being an extra in a movie or TV show is a payday for me. I'd prefer to have lines and featured screen time, but I'm an extra by circumstance not choice. I'm background and grateful for a check.
"Cancer is deeply sensitive and easily hurt."
Astrology and phases of the moon aside, I cursed and spewed witty cutting retorts back at him,
in my mind, for days. Stung even more because it seemed no one else at the table even noticed.
"Principle?" The question came from a person for whom no audition is necessary. His roles, he stated several times, are always a direct call from casting.
I'll admit, earlier that day, I felt some kind of way when TMZ reported the insolent 13 year old
"Cash Me Outside" girl
is juggling offers from 7 (seven!!!) different production companies.
Planets, stars or nah, being asked if I was a principle, on what was a background payday, just put me all up in my feelings.
"I'm an extra on the TV
If you blink slow you won't see me
I add atmosphere, my voice you won't hear
I don't make a sound
I'm background.
I knew making movies wasn't easy
But being an extra makes my stomach queasy.
Give me the chance to show some panache
Oh you want me to sit and be a silent bit?
I've studied Chekov, Chayefsky, Euripides
Bullins, Baraka, Aristophanes.
Oh how I've cried for just a few lines
Oh how I pray for just one word to say, but
I'm an extra on the TV
If you blink slow you won't see me
I add atmosphere, my voice you won't hear
I don't make a sound I'm background."
I wrote I'm An Extra several decades ago. It's nobody's fault that it still rings true.
I'm alright now. I talked myself off a ledge. I live to be an extra another day.
In fact tomorrow, on Power, me and my car will be background.
Thank you for your eyes on this page. Your support is appreciated. BTW, I"m seeking representation.
You are invited to laugh at my foibles ...Sunday March 5th - 7 PM Brooklyn Commons388 Atlantic Ave. Brooklyn NY 11217Thursday March 9th - 8 PM Jimmy's 4343 East &th St. NYC 10003Laughing Liberally With Scott BlakemanFriday March 10th - 6 PM Flo Empire RadioBig Talk & Brewskis With Maryssa SmithSunday March 19th - Don't Tell Mama343 West 46th St. NYC 10036Groovin On a SundayThursday March 23rd - 7 PM Brooklyn Museum200 Eastern Parkway Brooklyn NY 11238Brooklyn Comedy Marathon:Fierce, Funny & Feminist
When I do stand-up folks laugh, when I tell true life stories folks listen and when I direct theater it's interesting. Follow me on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and sometimes Periscope.| Labels: Background Artists, Black Women In Comedy, Brooklyn Commons, Brooklyn Museum, Cash Me Outside, Don't Tell Mama, Jimmy's 43, Laughing Liberally, Rhonda Hansome, Women in Comedy | 2 comments | |
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Black History Month Tonight! By Rhonda Hansome
Thursday, February 9, 2017
Director Debra Robinson's 1984 documentary, I Be Done Was Is profiles four women comics: Marcia Warfield, Jane Galvin Lewis, Alice Arthur and me; seen above in the poster for the BAM Rose Cinemas' Black History Month Film Festival,
I was the mother of a toddler and a new comic when this film was made. Last Saturday was my first in-theater screening of this exploration of women in comedy. The Brooklyn Academy of Music theater was packed. I was delighted to be in the company of thirty or more friends, family and fans who'd responded to my last minute invitation. If I hadn't seen a random post on the Women of Color Women of Comedy Facebook page, I'd never had known about the festival, nor the showing of I Be Done Was Is, a historical work in which I'm featured.
#IBeDoneWasIs - Schedule Alert:9 PM tonight, Thur. Feb. 9th, is NOT THE LAST SCREENING of #IBeDoneWas Is.Kudos and thanks to BAM Cinematek Programmer Nellie Killian for inviting my participationat the new I Be Done Was Is screening 9:30 Thu. Feb. 23rd.Join me 2/23 at BAM Rose Cinemas for the laughs and for Black History.
BTW, I Also Direct & This Reading Featuring Dominic Marcus Is Free
And Some Storytelling
| Labels: 1970-1991, BAM, Black Girl Magic, Black History Month, Black Women In Comedy, Dominic Marcus, I Be Done Was Is, Marcia Warfield, One Way Or Another:Black Women's Cinema, Rhonda Hansome, Women in Comedy | 1 comments | |
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Sting Of Celebrity Death By Rhonda Hansome
Thursday, January 12, 2017
In December the Grim Reaper furiously worked celebrity deaths like he had to meet a quota, but he sauntered into 2017 with little fanfare and snatched a superstar from my heart. Just a few years ago I heard my celebrity crush was ill…If he has a quirky charm AND is prone to unpredictable outbursts – I’m fascinated! I’m a sucker for a “Bad Boy”. A lack of father love and ensuing abandonment issues give me a lifetime pass on my poor attachment choices.
For years I’ve been enthralled by his majestic capacity to perform, which is only eclipsed by his lightning speed ability to strike fear and abject terror. A beloved entertainer AND known murderer, my “Bad Boy Crush” is star of Sea World
Bull Orca Whale - Tilikum!
You can understand my shock and dismay when I learned Tilikum was sent to a medical pool. Through the cooperation of an anonymous source*, I acquired an extract of Tilikum’s medical file. With only the best intentions, I present this confidential excerpt:Dr. Jennifer Melfi Thursday, March 22, 2012 New Patient Intake Session 1For the 3rd time in fifteen minutes the gruff park attendant, Colleen, quizzed me on the safety instructions. As I arranged myself in the blue nylon hammock suspended over the orca medical pool, I recited: “1, Maintain the required distance from the patient as specified in Judge Welsch’s court order. 2, In the event patient becomes agitated, volatile or violent, yell help!”Satisfied with my response Colleen hefted a bucket of fish onto the nearby platform and, with a practiced underhand toss, lobbed a bullhorn at me. It landed on my files and set the unwieldy net hammock rocking. Colleen swaggered off to a corner of the empty stadium and stationed herself under the sun-bleached Dine With Shamu sign; giving me privacy with my patient and giving Colleen the opportunity to smoke her cigar. I picked up the bullhorn, steadied the hammock and began.Dr. Melfi: Good morning, Tilikum.Tilikum: (No response)Dr. Melfi: (Turning on the bullhorn) Good morning, Tilikum. I’m Dr. Melfi.Tilikum: How you doing? My friends call me Tili.Dr. Melfi: Friends like Anthony Soprano?Tilikum: Yeah, it was Tony got word to me about you. Said you don’t judge and you might be able to help.Dr. Melfi: Do you need help, Tili?Tilikum: (Shrugging) Who knows?Dr. Melfi: Tili, what’s bothering you?Tilikum: Nothing.Dr. Melfi: Nothing? Then why am I in this hammock? I’ve got problems with heights, this life vest is itchy and…Tilikum: I miss my work… the cheering crowds, star billing… (Sob) I miss My Chum.Dr. Melfi: (Reaching in the bucket on the nearby platform) You miss these bits of fish?Tilikum: No, Dawn! (Quietly) I miss Dawn…Dr. Melfi: Your trainer?Tilikum: I called her, (Sob) My Chum.Dr. Melfi: Tili, you killed her.Tilikum: That’s no reason to punish me. Jeez! First they censor my routine then ban me from performing at all. I need my work. I’m an artiste!Dr. Melfi: You’re a serial killer!Tilikum: So I’ve done a little killing on the side.Dr. Melfi: Three dead human beings is “a little killing on the side?”Tilikum: Hey, I got nothing close to Tony Soprano’s numbers! And the official report said that naked guy found dead on my back died from hypothermia. (Shuddering) Frankly, I felt violated.Dr. Melfi: How do think the audience felt seeing you kill your Chum, Dawn?Tilikum: Doc, they got what they came for. My act is pretty exciting, all that kissing and hugging a beautiful blonde. And the synchronized swimming is a real crowd pleaser. Don’t even mention our ballet duet.Dr. Melfi: Your ballet duet?Tilikum: (Sternly) I told you not to mention that!(I discreetly cast my glance toward the Dine With Shamu marquee in the distance. Colleen is nowhere in sight. A faint wisp of cigar smoke hovers in the dank air like a mocking smile. Tili shifting his 22-foot mass in the 8 foot pool beneath me commands my attention)Dr. Melfi: Yes, Tili!Tilikum: As I was saying Doc, the crowd loves all the rehearsed tricks, bells and whistles. But what does that ticket really purchase? It buys the ever-present thrill that I might drop the Shamu mask and be my authentic self, a Bull Orca KILLER Whale! It only takes a moment to leave the training and friendship behind, grab the fragile mammal beside me and… dive to the watery calm below… dragging the pale hairy hunter who captured me at the age of two, clamped firmly…Dr. Melfi: Tili, you are in pain.Tilikum: Whoa, stop the presses!Dr. Melfi: These months of isolation have been hard on you. You’ve lost a ton of weight.Tilikum: You think? I’m down to 10,000 pounds Doc, just skin and bones! I think Colleen’s been hiding meds in my herring. (Withering disdain) Herring? I should be eating sea lions. I’ve got no energy, no appetite. I haven’t had a live dolphin in decades. Do you know what it’s like for me here in eight feet of water!?? Take a bath in your kitchen sink!Dr. Melfi: Tili…Tilikum: And I’ve been having these dreams Dr. Melfi…Dr. Melfi: Tili, our time is up.Tilikum: Since when is thirty-five minutes an hour?Dr. Melfi: Since 2009! (Quietly) And this bullhorn is killing my eardrums.Tilikum: What’s that, Doc?Dr. Melfi: I said this might take some time. Do you have insurance?Tilikum: (Menacing lunge) After twenty years of jumping through hoops I’d better have insurance! (Less menacing) Colleen will handle the paperwork.Dr. Melfi: Same time next Thursday?Tilikum: (Turning away) If I’m in the mood.Thanks to my anonymous source*, this is all I am at liberty to share.I can’t explain my attraction to Tili’s looming strength and seductive vulnerability. I knew “Bad Boy” Tili and I will never work together. Who ever heard of a stand-up comic opening for a Bull Orca Whale?“It was a great show ladies and gentlemen. We both killed!”I’ve ditched my online course in whale training. Tili’s gone but not forgotten.
Tilikum c. Nov. 1981 -Jan. 2017 R.I.P.*Colleen Ebbets
I'm around town. Come see me one place or another.
7:30 Fri. Jan.13th
Fun Size And Venti
8 PM Sat. Jan. 14th Block "B"
Diverse As Fuck Comedy Festival
Nuyorican Poets Cafe
236 E. 3rd St. NYC
| Labels: Black Comedians, Black Women In Comedy, Diverse As Fuck Comedy Festival, Dr. Melfi, Fun Size and Venti, Nuyorican Poets Cafe, Rhonda Hansome, Shamu, Tilikum Orca Whale, Tony Soprano, Women in Comedy | 2 comments | |
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Reality Check Redoux* By Rhonda Hansome
Thursday, January 5, 2017
I walked the two blocks home from Kumquat, talking to myself. That’s nothing new, what with the seven voices vying for attention in my head. I was trying to process what just happened. If my mother (God rest her soul) had done what I’d just done would I have been embarrassed?9:00 PMI marveled at the number of white faces crowding the Brooklyn “A” train as we passed Nostrand Ave. I exited the gentrification express and made my way up the M.C. Escher staircase at Utica Ave. station . If I survived the steps, I’d treat myself to a quick drink, an appetizer and call it a night.Successfully topside, I saw a martini in my future. The restaurant, Kumquat (not the real name) is of the new breed Bed-Stuy eateries with real flatware and not one sheet of plexiglass between me and the server. I have 6 receipts from Kumquat offering a 10% discount on future meals (weekends excluded) stuck on the refrigerator with a magnet that reads,
"All these years and still a fox.”
It figures I’d be here mid-week without my discount. No biggie. I’ll have a drink, a snack and be home in no time. The hostess seated me and I waited … and waited. I scanned the room, no wait staff in sight. Earlier this week, Daylight Savings snatched an hour and tonight in Kumquat, time was still evaporating. I did the craned neck - index finger at half- mast gesture and got the distracted attention of the hostess.
“Are there any waiters on duty?”“Yes, she’ll be right over.”“What’s the soup of the day?”“I’ll go find out.”You’ll go find out? It’s almost closing time, and you don’t know the soup du jour?I ignored that voice grumbling in my head. I cleared my phone, of fifteen emails, and decided to forgo my drink by the time the hostess returned and announced,“Black bean with kale, how does that sound?”“Good”“So that’s what you’ll have?”I nodded yes. Three emails later, my waitress appeared.I’m Kira, would you like something to drink?When I came in, I did, but now? More head grumbling.“No thank you Kira. I’ll just have soup. The hostess may have put in my order. She mentioned the black bean with kale.”“I’ll put that order in for you now.”
Sounds like more waiting. I picked up my phone to quiet the restless toe tapping in my head. Two emails later my soup was on the table. It was indeed black bean and kale, but mammoth chunks of chicken jostled for room in the huge white bowl. I’m not complaining because a mass of smoked poultry lurked under every piece of kale. If I were still a practicing semi-vegetarian, I’d have been outraged by the surfeit of fowl in what had sounded like a hearty vegan potage. I forged through the gumbo with gusto, but pieces of chicken relentlessly mocked me from the enormous bowl.After seating two men, the hostess passed within arm’s length and noticed my finger again at half-mast.“The soup had chicken, lots and lots of chicken.” She paused, perplexed. “I’m not complaining. It’s just you said black bean with kale and the soup had lots of chicken.”She fixed her face and said, “Yes, there’s chicken in it, but that’s the way it’s written up ‘black bean with kale.”“No problem, I’ll take my check.”Bam! Kira materialized at my table.“How was the soup?”“Actually it was very good, but there was a lot of chicken in it. It was more like chicken with black beans and kale.”“There’s chicken in it but that’s the way it’s written up, black bean with kale; anything else?”“No thank you Kira. Have a good night.”She placed the check on my table and went into hiding. $6.00 for a giant bowl of soup, 53 cents added for tax. No problem. Just above the 10% discount incentive was the suggested gratuity: 16% leave $1.08, 20% leave $1.20. To spite the “Blacks are bad tippers” stereotype, I went all out and left $1.25 on the table. I’ll pay the hostess at the door with a twenty and get on home.Well, she’d been at the door when I rose from my table, but where was the hostess now? No Kira, either, so I approached the bartender.“I’d like to pay my check.”Her face said, “This is not my job”, her mouth said, “I’ll get your waitress.”I checked messages until Kira returned from the hidden world where servers… well, hide. From behind the bar she handed me two 5’s, three one’s, returned my receipt and went back into hiding. The receipt total read $6.53 and I had thirteen dollars in hand. I have math anxiety, so several times I used my fingers to confirm, I was short forty-seven cents. I offered the bartender my receipt and the money.“I’m short forty-seven cents change.”She sighed, “Since the waiters don’t carry nickels and dimes they just round up.”That’s when one of the voices in my head, Penny Pincher, shouted “What the fuck??? That bitch just took money out the cash register. Don’t tell ME there’s not forty-seven cents in there!!” I ignored Penny’s outburst and quietly said,“I’m short on my change.”She sighed, “I’ll call your waitress.”When Kira appeared bar side, I calmly said,“I’m short forty-seven cents change.”I kid you not, Kira tilted her head and said.“We round up.”Now I’ll admit I’m still catching up to the 21st century, but when did rounding up your bill become the norm?“You round up without mentioning it to the customer?”Kira set her jaw, veiled her eyes but not her incredulous tone.“You want me to break a dollar?”Penny Pincher began stomping her feet, rocking her neck and looking for the nearest exit out of my head; to throttle Kira.I calmly replied, “Yes.”For a reality check,“I’m short forty-seven cents because they rounded up. I just want my change.”From behind a shield of beef, lettuce and bun, he murmured, “If that’s what you want.”
Penny Pincher ignored the hint of dismissal dripping from his burger. In an effort to rile up the other voices in my head Penny started to chant, “It’s my money! It’s my money!” Kira appeared before the other voices could pick up the mantra. She counted out forty cents in coins and with a sullen thump placed them AND a dollar on the bar.“This is yours.”“I gave you a generous tip.”“Did you?”Kiri shot down my feeble attempt to reason with a wait person I would likely encounter again.Seven cents short, I pushed Penny Pincher AND Kira’s dollar aside. I palmed the forty cents and made my way into the night.Did I miss the news flash - Restaurants Agreed To Round Up Your Bill? Who gets the profit? Is it shared by the staff or go straight to the owner? And why did Kira ask befuddled,“You want me to break a dollar for you?”“Hell yes, bitch, if it means I get MY MONEY!”
Penny Pincher shouted from her corner of my mind where she sat washing pennies plucked from rest room floors.Come see me make funny7:30 PM Friday Jan. 13th
*Redoux = Re-purposed from May 2013 (Hence the ancient Blackberry)| Labels: Black Women In Comedy, Fun Size and Venti, Funny Women Are Beautiful, QED, Reality Check, RHC2017, Rhonda Hansome Comedy, Women in Comedy | 2 comments | |
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Campaign Fatigue By Rhonda Hansome
Thursday, October 27, 2016
I thought I had Campaign Fatigue.
It's really Cognitive Dissonance in disguise.
Festinger's (1957) cognitive dissonance theory suggests that we have an inner drive to hold all our attitudes and beliefs in harmony and avoid disharmony (or dissonance)
Dilbert offers an example of Cognitive Dissonance:
It's no secret the DNC stacked the deck against my original choice.
Thanks a lot!I struggle daily to maintain thedelusion,illusion, magical thinking that my part in theAmerican Electoral Processmeans something.
Day by day the Wikileaks drip, drip, drip makes me feel like I can't defend my lesser of two evils.Sisyphus had it easy compared to what this electoral cycle has done to my psyche.
I'm simultaneously in on and the victim of a national election joke.I'm not for a candidate I'm against the other.
Without enthusiasm, I say vote.In the throes of Cognitive Dissonance I will hold my nose and mark my ballot.
I majored in sociology. It haunts me everyday.
When will my head explode?Find out this weekOne place or another8:00 PM Fri. Oct. 28th @ Broadway Comedy Club
5:00 PM Sat. & Sun. Oct. 29th & 30th @ Don't Tell Mama
10:45 PM Mon. Oct. 31st @ Theater For The New City - Cabaret
| Labels: Black Women In Comedy, Cognitive Dissonance, comedy, Rhonda Hansome, Sisyphus, Sociology, vote, Wikileaks, Women in Comedy | 5 comments | |
Showing posts with label Women in Comedy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Women in Comedy. Show all posts
