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    Showing posts with label not funny. Show all posts
    Showing posts with label not funny. Show all posts
  1. Various Things

    Friday, June 14, 2019













    Hi all.  I was led to believe that this past week I’d be working on set of a 
    project in its final stages that began last summer.  However, the director never scheduled it, and that worked out just fine.  I was sick half the week and am finally feeling on the mend.  Thank God.  At this point in my life, when I get sick, I worry that it’s indicative of something awful.  But I think I’ll be okay.  I am grateful.



    A number of you have asked me about the “Mob Mentality” show and 
    where you can see it, etc.  I will share info as I get it.  Right now there’s a hold on that because the cinematographer had to leave town.  Not sure if they are replacing him or waiting for his return.  If you’d like to see their Facebook page, here it is:  https://www.facebook.com/mobmentalitytheseries/?ref=br_tf&epa=SEARCH_BOX



    Next Friday, June 21st, the Bronx Council on the Arts is having a celebratory event for the Bronx Memoir Project vol.3.  I have a thin slice of memoir in there.  I may be asked to read it aloud.  I was welcomed to bring one guest.  I asked my darling Frida, who I miss. 


    We used to work at a job together.  She was a very caring and helpful counselor where I taught.  The “passionate” and “sincere” attract each other.  (See last blog http://www.shesofunny.org/2019/06/do-it-with-passion.html)  She said yes!  Yay.


    My memoir material is not usually funny, and for sure, the slice in this anthology is not funny.  For those who think a comic can make anything funny, I doubt I’ll live long enough to be able to do that.  The only family members who ever made it into my comedy so far is my ex-husband and my Grandma’s plans to get me married off.  I don’t have the ability at this time to use my childhood traumas as comedy.  If it’s still hurting, it’s not funny.


    I’ve seen aspiring comics try to use things as material when it was not ready.  Not funny.  I’ve seen aspiring comics get angry at the audience for not finding their unsatisfied hard-on funny.  I was in a show with someone who yelled at the audience, “I’m horny.”  I saw the women look concerned.  I felt disappointed that the person who booked the show had this guy up there.  I have a good friend who doesn’t take the stage but is so funny.  When he’d have an unsatisfied hard-on, he’d tell me about the conversation he had with his penis.  THAT was hilarious.  It showed he took responsibility for his own arousal, no one in an audience would’ve felt uncomfortable, and it was fuckin’ funny.








    If you appear as "Unknown" in the comments, please include your name in the comment.  Thanks.

    Can't seem to fix the font problems a few paragraphs up.

    Love to CGG-M 







  2. HULK SMASH!!!

    Wednesday, October 3, 2012

    by Helene "There is only one HULK. And he is GREEN!" Gresser


    Shut up, I know this blentry is posted very late. I am in the middle of apartments right now, so I am hauling heavy bags of my clothes and toiletries to various places to rest my weary bones while I search for a cheaper place to live so I can afford to be an "artist" and a "real estate agent." So I have limited access to computers (no laptop) and I did not want to type this on my Blackberry, much as that would have amused me to whine about. So that's why this is appearing so late today.  I know, I know, always an excuse. I am the queen of excuses. You are right. Shut up.



    I have a show I'm doing Friday, and the guy I've been dating wants to come see me perform. He keeps asking me if that is okay with me, and I keep saying "SURE. I'D LOVE TO HAVE YOU THERE" in an unconvincing cheery tone. Honestly, I am terrified to have him there. I mostly talk about my pathetic, neurotic, uncomfortable life and often I mention my dating life/sexy-times. So he will have a glimpse into the unvarnished me -- the rambling ranting loon that obsesses over ingrown pubic hair bumps that look like I might have the HERP and my fat thigh-ass-salmon-steak-shaped rear view when I wear tight slacks, and how I once saw my dad fully naked and how loud my mom is when she "makes love." This new guy in my life is no prude, is incredibly kind to me, and has only seen me trying to be as non-needy and easy-going as possible, all "HEY EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE FINE EVEN THOUGH I AM TECHNICALLY HOMELESS" and "YES, I WEAR MASCARA TO BED" and "I AM COMPLETELY CLEAN AT ALL TIMES." He has no idea of the Hulk-like creature that controls my inner monologue. The gross messy angry homunculus that drives the Helene bus is not pretty, not relaxed, not kind.


    My first experience with a dude witnessing "Comic Helene" was at my graduation from my comedy class, and I was given a cherry spot in the line-up because I was pretty damn good on stage - or so I imagined - at least in comparison to my fairly green classmates who were not trained in acting as I was. I was loose and comfortable in front of my class. My teacher/coach was encouraging of my talent and said I'd be just great with my unique style of rather improvisational and truthful story-telling. I was going to talk about the sexual antics that my latest paramour was into -- and the fact that he was my brother's best friend in high school and I had a huge crush on him when I was a youngster, and now the adult me was witness to his fetishes and I was frankly amused and taken aback, though I eventually said "WHAT THE HELL" and tried to go along with his preferences for a brief while.

    And then I saw that dude, that same dude I was going to talk about, enter the club and sit down before my set. Gack. How was that going to work??? What the hell could I talk about instead? Fumfer fumfer fumfer pace pace pace drink drink gulp. I half-assed my way through a partially-edited set. I received tepid applause. I sucked balls, in my estimation. My set had been videotaped professionally and that tape is still sitting in a dusty file cabinet somewhere in the bowels of Caroline's, as I did not need a copy to review the horror. And the dude still laughs when I tell him I am a comic, because, I believe, he thinks I am not really funny.


    I cannot edit my set to be something completely palatable without serious damage. I never felt totally free and comfortable as an actress onstage, but as a comic, I have found a voice I like and a confidence that is so energizing and fun that I cannot wait to grab that mic and go. I have changed my set on the fly when going up after a comic who has done some material that is similar to mine, and it worked fine. But if I see someone I know, fear their reaction to my ribald material, and thus perform as if I am watching myself from a distance, I am dead in the water. Hulk needs to rip off his shirt and be fearlessly green and angry and stomp about in all his ugly glory. Hulk likes freedom from the white collar restraint. If he was content to be Bruce Banner, he'd fucking be Bruce Banner the physicist. Hulk is Hulk. Comedy can be rough and ugly and dark and gross and unrefined and brutal. At least that is the nature of MY beast.

    We'll see how my new guy reacts to seeing my monster. If he hates it, if he loses his attraction to me, then I guess it's better to know sooner than later. If he loves it, then there's a chance that I've found someone who actually GETS ME. Hulk likes this. Hulk likes being understood, especially since he speaks in roars and grunts most of the time. Sometimes he blarfs after a set. That's Hulk.


    -HMG