Hi folks.I’m too
exhausted to share the long version, but I’ve been sick
since 9/22.At its peak, I had 103 temperature.I had pneumonia.Now after a round of antibiotics, those
symptoms subsided.However, I have some
infection on my right lung.Saw an
infectious diseases doctor.Now I’m on a
round of much stronger antibiotics.
My best buddy has been my major support, and I am very
grateful.I hope I survive this.I really look forward to feeling well again.
In the meantime, I have to be aware of certain things that
would indicate
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 acelebratory 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.
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Can't seem to fix the font problems a few paragraphs up.
Last week was a hectic week for me and a long day at
work on Friday.Lots of people are sick
or getting over being sick but still coughing their germs around.I didn’t feel great on Friday night, and I
was glad it wasn’t freezing when I had to walk my dog.By Saturday, my ear, throat, and head hurt,
and I had a chest cold.
I was glad it was the weekend and one without
commitments to anyone else.I did think,
however, of a co-worker who didn’t attend a meeting on Friday due to being
sick.I attended the meeting and got
sick later.Seems unjust.
I managed Saturday with tea, gargling, ginger ale,
and Tylenol.But by Sunday, my stomach
was the focus.Ugh.Switched to peppermint tea.If not for needing to walk the dog, I’d have slept more of Sunday away.In spite of what felt wrong, by evening I was
hungry.I ate oatmeal.
It sucks to be
sick.One of the benefits is supposed to
be not having to feel guilty or concerned about not doing anything.I did feel concerned.I had many things to do.Another benefit is having the opportunity to
appreciate our body’s many functions.I
do.
When I was little and got sick, my grandma* took care
of me.She was quite good at that.She grew up when people dealt with polio, died
of pneumonia and infections, and all sorts of things most of us do not deal
with.I grew up before vaccinations for
many of the things we vaccinate against now.She saw me through measles, German measles, chicken pox, asthma, and all
the colds and scraped knees of my early years.She was very proud that I don’t have one pock mark from scratching.She had me polka-dotted with Calamine lotion
and too afraid of her to scratch.My
mother would buy me Archie comic books and hang out with me when she could.
Being grown and sick means I still have to walk my
dog, buy food, make tea, watch my apartment get more cluttered, etc.I’m whining.But it isn’t the end of the world or anything, and I’ve lived through much tougher circumstances, God
knows.I just wanted to whine a bit. By Monday evening, I was feeling a lot better
though I do have something wrong in my ear.It might be connected to teeth issues or it might be an infection that
is traveling around my body.My worst
thought is that it is something awful from cell phone use.
In the spirit of the
world ending, my apartment continues to threaten to collapse.A few months back, my bathroom and kitchen
ceilings were replaced and painted.Now
there’s a leak from above making a situation where not only will those ceilings
need replacing again, but the wall shared by both rooms will probably need
replacing as well.It is sometimes
difficult to take all this in stride, but again, these are physical problems
that, while very inconveniencing, are fixable.
I normally work most
evenings to supplement my morning job income.Working many evenings really limits my other endeavors.Now I am on holiday break (unpaid) from one
job.This is my chance to try to do the
other things I do.So I am glad to say I
will be performing at the Ooba Lounge in Brooklyn on Wednesday and the Grisly
Pear in the Village on Thursday this week.Next week on Thursday, I’ll be in Johnny Zito’s show at Goodbye Blue
Monday in Bushwick, Brooklyn.If you’ve
been meaning to get to a show, all of these shows are free.And just in case the world ends on 12/21, you
might want to not put this off.
*My grandma's birthday is December 15th. Though she's passed on, I feel her with me much of the time. Happy Birthday, Grandma.
It's that seasonal allergy time of year for me and yesterday, I didn't even give it a second thought when I woke up sneezing. My only complaint about allergy season is that I'm allergic to allergy medicines. Yes, you read right. I am allergic to allergy medications: Benadryl, Sudafed, NyQuil, Advil, and the list goes on. Therefore my only relief from allergies is steady course of tea, tissues, and Vicks*
So I woke yesterday thinking that my allergies were acting up and I decided to just go about my business as usual. Sneezing, peeing my pants, blowing my nose, lubricating my nose with Vicks. By mid-day, though, I started noticing signs that I might be on my way to a real live cold/flu.
SIGN 1
My faithful old Macbook is rapidly heading for Sugarcandy Mountain (after being held together by tape, stickers, rubber bands, glue, etc.) so on Saturday morning, I bit the proverbial bullet and bought new Macbook Pro. I wisely (or not) opted to set up the machine on my own as I didn't want to wait for the Geniuses at the Apple Store.
By Sunday morning I realized that I needed a firewire cable to effectively transfer some of data from my old Mac to my new Mac (as performing this function wirelessly can be disastrous). Sneezing, sniffling, peeing, blowing, Vicksing, I went to Radio Shack, bought the cable with cash, told the cashier not to bother with a bag - my attempt at going green - and I headed for the grocery store.
I arrived at home a few hours later, unloaded the car, packed away the groceries, and sat down to work on my data transfer. I tore open the plastic box containing the cable, attempted to plug it into my new machine, only to realize that it was the wrong cable AND that I actually already owned the proper cable. I neatly (or not so neatly) shoved the cable back into the plastic box (with some newly added dog and cat hairs) and dug through my pocketbook for the receipt. Which was not there. I searched my car. My pockets. The garbage. Nada.
And then my sign. I started crying. Crying. Really crying can't catch my breath crying like a little kid who's so pissed at his parents that they do that choking, sputtering, can't talk thing. I don't know why. It wasn't that expensive and I wasn't that upset. AND it wasn't the first crying fit of the weekend. I cried on Saturday over a facebook incident.
You see, my son, Ethan, since he was a baby, would cry, become intolerable, whine, and moan for exactly two days before getting sick (he got sick a lot...I got valium). So apparently, this crying before illness is a family trait.
SIGN 2
Same day, Sunday. I returned to Radio Shack, foggy headed, sneezing, sniffling, peeing my pants, forgot tissues, Vickless, eyes swollen almost shut. I heard the cashier say something like, "Rememberyou (head spinning), can't refund until tomorrow (nose dripping), 24 hours for cash transactions, (fog thickening), you didn't open the box did you (ears ringing), just come back tomorrow."
Grateful, I staggered toward the exit, nose mid-drip, opened the door, and was taken aback by the blinding effect that the sun's rays had on my pinkish, drippy eyes. As I got closer to my gray Kia Sorento, I thought it was queer (not gay queer, puzzling queer... I'd like to bring "queer" back in its original form. It's a dandy word that I think would add pizzazz to our daily speech. Think of it. "What a queer essay you've written, Susie!" or "This milk tastes queer! Does it smell queer to you?" or "Look at the queer way the dog is sniffing that other dog's bum!") that my car looked white in the sunlight. I pulled at the door handle and pressed the remote, not really fazed by the fact that it wouldn't unlock, but more so, curious about the can of Coke in my cup holder, as I don't drink Coke. As I clicked, pulled, sneezed, peed, dripped, and peered through the window, I couldn't for the life of me remember when I bought the GPS device that sat atop the dashboard and connected to the car's lighter via an unfamiliar black cord. Things were getting really weird and spinny in my head.
Approximately 5 minutes passed and I contemplated calling someone at home to bring me a spare set of keys, because apparently, the battery was malfunctioning in my remote (it didn't dawn on me to try the key). Then I took a step back into a man who was looking at me with a queer look on his face. I looked at him with an equally queer look on my face (double entendre) as he clicked the remote on his key chain and the lights blinked on the car that I had been attempting to enter (thankfully, as I just said, it didn't dawn on me to try the key). I slowly clicked my remote, looked at a gray Kia Sorento that was parked two spaces away from where I was standing, and saw the lights flash.
I'm almost certain that you've done the same thing at least once in your life, but I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that you didn't stand in front of the wrong car for more than a few seconds.
(Here's another story of mistaken car identity as told by The Doublemint Brah'z. I find this to be particularly disturbing given A) My current state of fluish mind and B) Identical Twins scare the beejeezus outta me)
I'm not sure how I made it home, but I'm pretty sure that my disorientation in the parking lot should have been a red flag that my current state of health (mental or physical) was not up to snuff (sniff, wheeze).
SIGN 3
I called out sick today at about 5:30 a.m. and I'm now watching Kathie Lee and Hoda. That's the sign. Under normal circumstances, KLG & H would not remain on my screen even for the second that it takes to channel surf past it. I know, I know. People love them. Even my BFF, Marygrace, who won't read 50 Shades WILL watch KLG & H! But I just can't watch, not even for a second, without getting angry. I mean ANGRY. But today, it's on. And I'm not changing the channel. ONE- because the remote is across the room and I don't have the strength to get it. TWO - Barry Manilow is on and, at first, I thought it was Clay Aiken. And I'm mesmerized by the lack of movement in Barry's mouth and jaw as he sings "Oh Mandy" with Kathie Lee (who, as usual is shoving Hoda aside and hogging the screen because she thinks she can sing)
(Here's something really queer. As I was looking for photos of Barry Manilow and Clay Aiken, it dawned on me just how many celebrities bear a striking resemblance to one another.)
On that note, I'm home sick today. The signs are all there. Before I go, I just want to add that I typed this entire blog entry this morning, swiped something on my new Macbook Pro, and deleted the entire thing. And then I cried.
I'm going to bed now.
*Warning: One should never vigorously rub one's eyes after lubing one's nose with Vicks. Secondly, one should never use Puff's Plus with Vicks in one's bathroom when one is out of toilet paper. Trust me.
