She So Funny

As an instructor of adult students who were already gypped in life, I know I am expected to answer to supervisors and administrators, but I consider my students the ones I aim to connect with and do right by.  Teaching is about students.  However, we are often evaluated by those who are the furthest from our students.  Administrators, funders, etc.  So on the last day of the school cycle, I often ask my students to write me a letter, letting me know what their favorite part of class was and the least favorite, so I can make it even better.  If anyone is qualified to give me feedback, I figure it is those who receive my services.  I assure them they won't hurt my feelings, and I truly want to know.

These are excerpts:

"...The class atmosphere is so welcoming and heart warming that it really makes you excited in the morning to get to school. ...You make learning for us to be fun in a way that we all can understand."  "...keep on doing what you are doing, so you can motivate more people like me."  "...I take classes here five days a week, but this is the only class I felt so comfortable in. My classmates were great. We are all open and comfortable with each other. ...No words can explain how I feel. ...I wish I didn't have to leave. ...I hope your new class knows how lucky they are."  "I liked how you helped us with our confidence from the first day when you had us share about ourselves to today by having us perform. The one thing I didn't like was that I didn't come on time, but I thank you for dealing with me. Thank you for helping me get closer to my goal."  "The best part of this class was my teacher. ...I underestimate myself.  My teacher gave me the confidence I needed to feel comfortable with learning."  "...The way you take the time with every one of us, you take the time to understand whatever it might be anyone is going through.  I also like how once you come into class, it's work mode, like giving us a worksheet, and we get to work as a group.  I wouldn't change anything about how you teach, so please keep caring about your students the way you do.  I have really enjoyed you and your class.  You will be missed.  Hope to see you around because I still need you in my life to get my diploma."  "...You are definitely a teacher I will remember. ...an awesome and welcoming teacher."  "...a wonderful teacher who makes us laugh and learn."

Long before I started stand-up, a math student, Raul, insisted I should be a comedian.  I was still too chicken.  But some years after, I did it.  However, my financial life is that of an underpaid teacher, a gratefully divorced woman but with zero alimony, so if anyone out there has paid work for me to help supplement my meager salary, I am also an experienced proofreader, actress, comic, and creative writer.  Dogs and cats tend to like me (smart creatures that they are), so if you need an animal sitter, I'm open to hearing about it.  

Posted by Mindy Matijasevic at 12:00 AM | Labels: actress, adult students, cats, comic, Dogs, Mindy Matijasevic, proofreader, Raul Santiago, what really matters to students, what should really matter to teachers, writer | 4 comments | Email This BlogThis! Share to X Share to Facebook |

By Lisa Harmon

A few years ago the Super drove over to the Motor Vehicle office that offers free parking in their lot. When he got there the lot was practically empty. He pulled right in thinking “It's my lucky day!”

Overjoyed, he walked to the counter. As he approached he was informed the computers were down and there would be “no transactions!”

As it turns out, his lucky day was not that lucky!

In a related matter, we left town for a few days last weekend. It was a short trip. I decided I wasn't going to use a pet sitter. This time we were going to wing it.

The morning we were getting ready to leave, I filled up three clean litter pans with fresh litter.

Then I measured out four days worth of dry food and put that down.

 

 

 

Then I put down a giant bowl of cold bottled water and a frozen cat waterer that would defrost by itself and keep her going for days.

My cat could not believe the sudden bounty that she was receiving. She was looking at everything with such a look on her face, I do believe she was thinking “It's my lucky day!” Poor silly cat. Ten minutes later she was probably thinking “Where'd everybody go?” 

 

 

 

I wonder if she realized her lucky day turned out to be a bad luck-y day.

The moral of the story is, if it's your lucky day, look out. It probably will not end well.

Posted by Anonymous at 3:00 AM | Labels: cats, Lisa Harmon, luck | 6 comments | Email This BlogThis! Share to X Share to Facebook |

By Lisa Harmon

Everyone knows I love animals, and I love my cats, but most people don't know that my older kitty-kat is senile, right? I mean, I didn't make that up, that's what the VET said! Apparently there's nothing wrong with her, except she's losing it. She hollers, all day, all night, and man, is it loud! It is so loud and piercing, it could wake the dead! This has been going on for over five years. I used to feel sorry for new mothers that don't get any sleep for a few months. Now, I think, that must be a cakewalk. Try five years. FIVE YEARS!

I have become a slave to the feline nation. I get no peace in the daytime, and no sleep at night. I feed my cat eight times a day and wash her dishes all day long. I have litter boxes to scoop and matted fur to untangle. Don't forget nail clipping, ear de-gunking, never-ending floor-sweeping, and of course the other cat, who, believe it or not, sometimes needs attention. Like Monday when she got a nice antibiotic shot for $105.00.

This morning I spent an hour reading and rereading an email that made no sense. Trying to figure out other people's gibberish while a cat screams at you from across the apartment takes a level of patience and persistence I have yet to (and will never) acquire.

After I stopped crying, I closed the email and started writing this blog. So, sorry if its a little soggy.

When you start crying and wondering where it all went wrong, its time to take a vacation. So next month, I'll be out of here, away from my loud cat, and relaxing somewhere where she can't get at me. I can't wait!

Cayuga through the years.  She's nineteen years old! 

 

 

 

Posted by Anonymous at 3:00 AM | Labels: cats, Lisa Harmon, vacation | 5 comments | Email This BlogThis! Share to X Share to Facebook |

Posted by Anonymous at 3:00 AM | Labels: cats, high strung, Lisa Harmon, New York City, stress | 2 comments | Email This BlogThis! Share to X Share to Facebook |

By Lisa Harmon

Here I am in New York City complaining about how slow everything is.  I am clearly doomed.  This is New York, it just doesn’t get any faster than this!

I learned this painful lesson on a trip to San Francisco as a teenager.  Ah sunny California – how relaxing.  Sure, its relaxing.  Till the first time you find out that you’re going to stand on line longer than you ever thought possible, even though there are hardly any people on the line!  Furthermore, you are not permitted to make a face about it.  That is the worst part!  All the locals are cool and relaxed – so if you get too annoyed you look like an uptight east-coast jerk!  I admit I feel a little embarrassed when they see the smoke coming from my nostrils.  Its their own fault.  Why don’t they pick up the pace!?!?!

And everyplace is slower than here…Like upstate New York, or down south.  The people are friendly and oh so maddeningly slow!

You

All

Have

A

Nice

Day

Now.

Ya hear?

I think she’s starting another sentence, get in the car, get in the car!

So what could possibly be slowing me down, here in this nirvana of savvy, busy, gym-going movers and shakers? 

Let’s see.  Cats.  Every step I’ve taken inside the house is behind a pain in the ass cat.  I walk fast – because I’m from New York!  New Yorkers don’t just walk.  It’s like a sporting event for us…we speed up, we slow down, we dart between, scooch around, sneak by, duck under, hurdle and may even elbow our opponents on occasion.  We make better time than the cabs.  I “walk” like this all day long!

I get home, its another story.  Whenever I take a step, a cat takes a much tinier step in front of me.  It takes thirteen minutes to get from the living room to the kitchen, which is eleven feet.

I’ve learned that in thirteen minutes you get the urge to drop-kick a cat twenty-six times.

And my laptop.  I just want to look up the address of the hotel in Florida.   Click.  Connection error; Retry.  “You always make a connection error four times, then like a miracle you somehow manage to connect!  Can you just do it the first time for once!  Just for once!  Oh my God!  Why must this take 28 minutes!  Please could you hurry…oh God waiting for response from hotmail.com!  Forget hotmail!  Let’s go straight to Google!  Oh God!  Its frozen!  Oh! My! God!  Why does this simple thing have to take 43 minutes!  I’m going to smash you with a hammer!  Oh my God I hate this computer!”

Online banking, reading the news, answering emails, Facebook and Twitter – each damn page takes three long minutes to load, and that’s how two hours have gone by just so I could look up the address of the hotel in Florida!  Oh and that’s not counting puppy and kitten videos!  It’s a trap!  They’re only a few minutes each, but once you start, you can’t stop – worse than potato chips!   Do not click the puppy videos!  Do not click on them!

Waiting on lines also seems to take longer than ever these days!  They have those self-checkout machines now.  Just as slow and annoying as their human predecessors.  But I do love the voices on those things.  PLEASE SCAN YOUR NEXT ITEM!  Why are you yelling?  I’m standing right here!  I think the people who live across from the supermarket must go insane with that voice.  PLEASE MOVE YOUR….BANANAS!....TO THE BAGGING AREA.  Could it be any louder?  She seems so excited about the bananas.  Like finally, one of you fat fucks bought a piece of fruit.  Ok it’s a banana, but still!  And by the way, self-checkout lady voice, I’m 45 so anywhere I happen to stand is a bagging area!  Everything’s getting baggier as you speak, I mean, holler.

So that’s it, the day is over.  I did four things.  Now its bedtime.  What!  Yes, its bedtime because of all you slowpokes getting in my way all day long!

What a waste of all my talent and natural charisma!

Really what am I in such a rush about, anyhow?  What exactly is my problem?  Well, I’m a New Yorker, and that’s just the way we roll.

Posted by She So Funny at 12:00 AM | Labels: cats, Laptops, Lisa Harmon, NYC, slow, waiting | 1 comments | Email This BlogThis! Share to X Share to Facebook |

By Lisa Harmon

Life in NYC is more hectic than ever!  There are so many more people here now!  Some random, various implications of this influx: 

Crazy people.  More people = more crazy people.  Same deal, only MORE.

More beggars, more proselytizers, more politicians with dick pics.

No longer able to get high in the park.  Why not?  Everyone here is on edge.  Let’em smoke up.  Especially if they’re packing.

Aggressive drivers.  All my life I’ve been waiting for one of these to smack up in front of me but it never happens.  That’s why I do not believe in karma.  Please stop driving like that.  You’re a total A-hole and I know I’m not the first person to tell you that.

Aging in NYC is not easy. 

New Yorkers do not do laundry like normal human beings.  We have to take our dirty heavy clothes at least 3 blocks and possibly a staircase to get to a laundromat.

Parking:  We park 14 – 37 blocks away from where with live.  This was annoying in my 30’s.  Now its giving me rheumatoid arthritis.

Kitty litter.  Seriously.  Who thought this was a good idea?  Can’t they pee into a vaporizer chamber or something?  Seriously!

Cat food:  Ditto.  Why do I still have these creatures living here?  I’m clearly too old and indifferent to care for them.

And generally speaking, have you noticed that everything is a crazy contest?  That’s right.  Look around you:  reality shows, politics, your office job, its all one big crazy contest!  To see who can be the most outrageous.  I can’t compete with that!  First off I don’t drink so right there I’m at a disadvantage.  Oh and besides that I try to  behave with some level of class and composure (not successfully, but at least I try), especially on tv.  (I sit just like Kathy Griffin!)

Everyone’s so offended all the time.  What are they so pissed off about?  I never see them riding the damn F train!  I mean so many people are supposedly all bent out of shape - but the rich ones are the best!  They have everything but they’re still very displeased with the status quo.  The technical term for this is idiot.

And finally, my suggestions for improving our quality of life.  You’re welcome, NYC.

The following must be outlawed:

Using public transportation before showering (with soap!) and changing into clean clothes.

Farting and/or clipping nails in public.

Kids on Razors.

Old people on Razors.

Old people.

Kids.

People who wear clothes that tell you their religion.  (I don’t care which style of female oppression you’re into.  You’ve got to go.)

Reckless drivers.

Mean old ladies.

Touchy-feely people, esp. guys

People who refer to their pets as their children.

Vegetarians that eat fish.*

*Not outlawed, just illegal to call themselves vegetarians.

OK so if you all could step into line here, I think I may possibly avert a nervous breakdown for maybe another month or so.  So, thanks everybody.  Just chill out.

Posted by She So Funny at 4:22 AM | Labels: cats, chill out, crazy people, dick pics, Lisa Harmon, NYC, politicians, reality tv | 3 comments | Email This BlogThis! Share to X Share to Facebook |

Alternative names for today’s blog:

Hello Kitty

What’s up, Pussycat?

Cat-a-tonic

Another Caturday Night

SHUT UP, CATTIE!

OK.  I’m going to start off with a weird recurring dream that I had / have been having.  I’ve been waking up for the last two weeks, almost every night, bolting upright with dreams that I either haven’t fed the dog or cat OR that I left the dog outside.  As soon as I wake up, look around, gather my bearings,  retrace the steps in my mind to feeding time / letting them out time, I realize that I have, in fact, fed them, & let them out and back in.

So last night, I went to see Krystyna perform in Union, NJ.  She was fabulous, and if you’ve never seen her perform, she did my favorite voice.  Fricken kills me every time.  EVERY TIME.  Even though the stench outside of the venue in Union, New Jersey nearly killed me before she even went on.

Anyway, am I digressing again?

As you can tell, I have a dog and a cat.  I’m not from a cat family.  Never had cats growing up, but for several reasons, some more obvious than others, I’ve become a cat-tolerant person.  The first cat that I saved was Catty.  God rest his orange soul.  He was 4, about to be put down because his owners had a baby and the baby was allergic.  I allowed Catty to stay with me until we found him a suitable home.  We were still waiting 7 years later when cancer took Catty before he found his forever home.  

Admittedly, he was a cool cat.  Good with the kids.  Ryan, as a baby, used to line his legos up on Catty from head-to-toe.  And Catty let him.  All the time.  And then Catty went to pussy heaven.

I told my kids, when they asked for a new cat upon Catty’s departure, that all families were only permitted one cat ever and when that cat was gone, that was it.  That logic lasted a mere few weeks when Ryan came home and informed me that his friend had 4 cats.  I tried, desperately to come up with an excuse, because no wasn’t working and I’ve never been good at the “because-I-said-so” logic.

I had just started a new job and was trying to desperately to make friends because no one likes to be the new kid who sits alone at lunch.   A woman who worked in my building started telling the person next to me that there were two kittens at Richfield Farms across the road and NO ONE would adopt them.  She couldn’t take them, of course, because she was fostering so many already. 

Then she turned to me and asked, “Didn’t I hear that you just lost your cat?  Would you be able to rescue one of the kittens?”

My mind was saying, “Are you for real?  I don’t think so.”  But what came out was, “Um, Shur.  Um.  I just have to get my kids first and then we’ll have a look” (in Krystyna’s comedy voice). 

That was 2002 and Cattie’s still with us.  IT'S CATTIE WITH AN I-E!

While not as cool as Catty, Cattie is ok as far as cats are concerned.  She’s tolerated 2 kids, 2 dogs, and a lot of screaming.  And unlike Catty, Cattie’s never run away.  Catty ran away once and it took me several hours to find him.  Traumatic because he didn’t have front claws.  Cattie, on the other hand, will venture into the back yard while I’m there, but she NEVER goes beyond the patio.  Cattie, like Catty, also has no front claws. 

Anyway.  I got home from the show on Saturday night close to midnight, let the dog out and in through the sliding glass door in my bedroom, and went to bed.

Throughout the night I kept dreaming that I was hearing Cattie howling.  I kept telling myself NOT to be alarmed.  It was just the stupid recurring dream.  I did yell several times for Cattie to shut the (something) up before I drop her off at Wah Yuan on Broad Street.

It was incessant.  At one point, I did convince myself that it was the neighborhood outside cat whore having sex in my driveway.  She’s a dirty, horny little slut.  It happens every now and again and frankly, I don’t want Cattie to be influenced by the likes of that hussy pussy.

Finally at about 5 a.m. which is the time that I normally start to rouse, I opened my eyes, gazed groggily at the sliding glass door and there was Cattie just staring at me.  I blinked.  Blinked again to focus.  Put my new glasses on.  There was Cattie.  Just staring at me.  From the outside.

Meow!

Posted by She So Funny at 12:00 AM | Labels: cats, comedy, meow, Samantha DeRose | 0 comments | Email This BlogThis! Share to X Share to Facebook |

Posted by She So Funny at 1:26 PM | Labels: 50 Shades of Grey, books, cats, rainy day | 0 comments | Email This BlogThis! Share to X Share to Facebook |