People, I am genuinely sorry, for having kept you waiting for the third and final part of the story!!!
I have to shift to a new nest, and its giving me nightmares, people. For last three years, was living at the same flat, but since the landlord could only increase the rent at 12% annually, he thought better to get us off the block. Afterall, the rent has surged to 200%. I really, don't understand how on this earth, people do pay astronomical rent!
And now, I do not want to stay in Ghaziabad, as the basic amenities are hard to come by, with 8-12hours of power cut, and many vital things missing, like proper public transport. So, I have been searching for nest in Delhi, in Jamna Paar, but even there the rent is 300-400% higher than the one I am paying.
In last four years in NCR, I have had changed 8 flats, of which last three years were spent in just one. I don't know, what future holds. I love this city, but its high rentals doesn't want to love me, or get loved by me.
.....Will update the post soon....
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Ads that bug me
First, let me get this out of the way. I think advertising is essentially wrong. I'm not kidding. Unless you're only saying "here's the product and here's where you can get it", there's always some misleading going on. But that's capitalism. So, aside from my ridiculous assumption (all advertising is wrong), I actually think that some ads nowadays are entertaining. But some ads really annoy me.
I don't know if I'm becoming overly sensitive, but there's one ad that I can't stand on TV right now. I've seen it countless times, but can't remember exactly what they're selling - some sort of mobile phone service is all I can tell you. Maybe you've seen it. A "nice family" is in an ice cream shop and someone is explaining their calling plan to them. Why that is happening in an ice cream shop is not apparent. The thing is, I think there's a subtle racism (fear of the black man)under the surface of this ad. The nice man, with a wife and sweet little kids, takes an entire glass container of sprinkles (that's jimmies to you Northern New Englanders) and dumps them on top of the counter (on top of some ice cream?) The guy behind the counter asks him, rather limply, "Would you like whipped cream on that?" Now, it seems harmless, but every time I see it, I think "fear of the black man." The guy is big, but he looks perfectly harmless in his "I'm a good guy, dressed nicely in pastels, out with my family" kind of way. But, even with his big aw-shucks smile, he can do damage, even with sprinkles. Don't let the pastels and ice cream shop fool you! So, that's my take on it. Oversensitive? I dunno. If you watch the ad, tell me if I'm crazy.
There's another ad that bothers me for reasons I do not understand in the least. It's a series of ads, actually, for some new car. It has special effects that are so subtle that you hardly know they're happening. People appear out of nowhere. Things pop up out of nowhere. I don't know what the message is, and I can't watch. It bothers my sense of reality, I think. When I say I can't watch, I mean it. I actually close my eyes.
I've been watching too much tv, I'd say. I only get one channel and I think I watch too much television! I should be more worried about my Bejeweled Blitz addiction, don't you think?
But seriously, there were eight years of my life when I didn't have a television, and I'm sure I spent more time doing things than just sitting here, watching ads and shows about serial killers. Those are the shows I watch - Criminal Minds, NCSI, Without a Trace, and The Mentalist. I also watch the Big Bang Theory, which, so far, has had no serial killers. I find the character of Sheldon to be not only amusing, but get pleasure from watching the actor fine tune his tics and such. If someone hadn't done some research on Asberger's Syndrome, I'd be surprised.
So, there you have it. My life with TV. I feel rather like Andy Rooney, which is truly horrifying, for I also still watch 60 Minutes on occasion, and I wish that they'd let Andy Rooney go. He's so out of touch, he gives elderly people a bad reputation. The man's bad graces sometimes border on upsetting. One evening he whined on about the useless gifts fans send him. It was sad to watch. He's lucky he still does get any gifts from fans.
Okay, now I'm done.
Claudia Ciesla picture gallery
Claudia Ciesla is a German model, actress, and singer of Polish descent. She was born in Wodzislaw slaski, Poland. Her father is Polish and her mother is German. She started modelling at the age of 15.
Name: Claudia Ciesla
Birth Place: woodzislaw slaski, Poland
Measurements: 32DD 38-26-37 in (98-64-96 cm)
Height: 5 ft 9 in (1.75 m)
Eye colour: Blue-Green
Hair colour: Dark-Blond
Ethnicity: German/Polish
Name: Claudia Ciesla
Birth Place: woodzislaw slaski, Poland
Measurements: 32DD 38-26-37 in (98-64-96 cm)
Height: 5 ft 9 in (1.75 m)
Eye colour: Blue-Green
Hair colour: Dark-Blond
Ethnicity: German/Polish
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Read the 'THE BLACK ROSE-I' first.... here is it..
All around, it was filled with colourfully dull lights. Just where Ranjit lay, squirming in bed out of pain, the wall infront of it had one more red night-bulb. HE was trying to open his eyes, but he could manage opening it only partially. Just then, an extremely huge lady entered the place, and it made him sure, he was in HELL! After all, Heaven is meant for beautiful angels. Hell!, Was his life, really so much full of sins! With these thoughts in mind, he tried inquisition with the lady. But such was his conditions, that he miserably failed. He tried lifting himself toward the head of the bed.
"Wasn't your that action, enough? That now, you trying further to hurt you"
Reprimanding Ranjit, the huge nurse, moved across the room, got a syringe in her hand, came near him, took his hand and was trying to locate the veins. Ranjit was a healthy person, yet now, locating his veins was such a big headache for her. Remotely sensing the green hue, on his hand, she punctured his skin with syringe. Not allowing him the time to protest even. And he lay silent again.
In morning, when the neighbor's children were playing cricket, ball had went on Ranjit's terrace, the terrace where he lay almost presumably dead. Children out of shock, by such a horrid scene of their humorous Ranjit uncle, screamed so loudly that their parents arrived in almost no time, literally. Cops were informed, and so was "Maa", from his cell phone's address book, and he was taken to a nearby Government hospital. Yeah, Ranjit deserved this, thought his neighbor Mr.Sharma, for ruining their Sunday. There was huge loss of blood, but, as fate would have it, people of his O+ blood group and his acquaintances, proved to be too many, to even allow him to do one thing out of his wish, without any boundary.
Such was life, when he wanted to live, he was denied. It looked like, the very same people denied him the LIFE in his lifetime. When as a ten-year old kid, it fancied him to become a lemon-soda seller on the road. Lemon's colour, and fizz of the soda not only enticed him, but also gave him immense optimism. Once when he was thrashed by his parents for having fought with a kid, the tears that had ensued, faded away after seeing the lemon-soda seller. Aah, the lemon, the soda, and the fizz!!!
But as he grew older, things started turning extremely difficult for him. Ranjit and his father, were extremely happy about his admission in one of the best colleges of India. His father gifted his favourite motorbike, and he thought of gifting his father a tie. He bought the tie for his father, and had reached the entrance of his street, when someone told him about an accident, minutes ago. It was his father's dead body on which the necktie was kept, on his pyre. It was his last gift to his father.
All of 19, he was devastated, broken, and apocalypse seemed to surround him. But there was more in store. It was not even a year, when his mother decided to marry his father's colleague, a divorcee. Ranjit had always thought him to be a boorish rake, a third-grade person, a lecher. Rather, he had known. Once when he came to home mid-way through his class timing, because of high fever, he entered through the back-entrance. Today he didn't want to walk on the reflecting marble, which meant a good 25 feet walk to front entrance, when on other days, he loved to walk and see toward the ground, to see his reflection. Back-entrance used to be open for maid servants to come, in evening, and morning. Only in night it used to be closed. When he entered home, he entered a disgusting surprise. Mr. Khanna, the boor, was in his mothers room. His mother was lying stark naked on the bed, and Mr. Khanna was humping her. But he never told anyone about it, not his parents, nor himself. It all flooded his mind today, when he came to know about his mother's desire to change her surname to Mrs. Khanna.
He packed all his belongings in a bag, overnight, and when the night enveloped the world, he embraced the open world, on his Hoodibaba bike!!!
With no plausible qualification, no money, no home, no mother, he set out to write his own destiny. He did to an extent. Took a menial job, continued studying through out,took a better job in a call center, and with gift of his oratory skills soon made enough progress, to become team-leader. Throwing open his ears to all the cuss words, made by the white skinned. Soon and slowly, jingoism occupying him, because of his BPO experience. All he seem to be wanting now, by every day, was to become an IAS officer, and serve his mother Earth. He gave the exams twice, and failed to clear both times. Meanwhile, his colleague in office, Mandira seemed to be making an equally strong impression on his heart. The first kiss in the cab, led to promises of life and death together. Passion overtaking each other, every minute. Ranjit approached Mandira's father, and told him in simple words, that he would like to marry his daughter. Her father, was a retired army man, to him the thought of his son-in-law being a petty glorified-executive irked him. Further to Ranjit's ill credit, he had lost his father to life, and his mother to some boor. He set out a condition, which he thought, Ranjit would not be able to clear. Become a grade-I officer in a government job.
Mandira was made to leave the job, Ranjit left his own as well, to concentrate on IAS prep. Two years salary was enough to sustain him for another 1 year, and it did...by the time, he had cleared his PRELIMS, and given his MAINS. A day before MAINS examination, Mandira's best friend Alka, informed Ranjit, that Mandira has gone to her home-town Lucknow, and she is quite sure, Mandira would be getting forcibly married. She claimed she had enough inklings. Needless to say, perturbed Ranjit could not concentrate on his papers well. He was sure of not clearing. On further telephonic inquisition, he could make out they had gone to Lucknow for some wedding. He headed to Lucknow, where he met the Colonel father, who refused to let him meet her, claiming innocence about her whereabouts.While his home spoke in volumes, of a marriage celebration, recently concluded....Why didn't even she inform him, he thought! Was their love, so feeble!
Ranjit couldn't make out, who to live for! In hospital,When he gained consciousness, Mandira was infront of her. Impulsively, She slapped him hard, and then hugged him tight, as if never to let go of him. Then she told him, that she had gone there for her cousin's marriage. And she had seen him from the window, when he came to meet her father. She nagged about his shirt's colour, when he met her father. Maddy, as he often called her, assured him that, she would keep on meeting him, as and when possible, with the support of Alka.
Soon he was shifted to his flat. He started recovering. Mentally, and emotionally as well. He wanted to live, cry in joy, hit himself for his stupidity, rebuke himself for the suicide attempt. For the moments of self doubt, and doubt on her love. For failing to give his MAINS Examinations well. For delaying everything by an year, in the best scenario.
The day MAINS result was to be declared, he went gloom. He didn't even log on to the result website. Mandira had managed to come today. She asked him whether, if he had checked his result. There was a tinge of sadness in her voice. He said, "When I know it, why to check it?"
Aah..there she slapped him again. A tight hard slap.
"Such an asshole, Ranjit. You have cleared it!"
"Haah! Disgusting Joke! Why you reminding me, of it, even? why humiliate me?"
Another slap on his face. And he was starting to believe it.
"I mean, how come. And if its really so, why you sad? You must be kidding"
"I am sad, because for an year now on, you 'd be on training and faraway in Mussorie, Hyderabad. How would I be able to......"
Before she completed her sentence...
"..Slap me!"
There was love in the remark. There was fondness in the words. And there was the tenderness in the slap, that ensued again on his remark......
[You can post your questions, if any, in the comments section! Or, We can have a Q & A, if you all wish, lemme know...Yahoo Pingbox, apke right me hai na!!]
THE BLACK ROSE-III, would be soon written and updated...
Awaiting your critical feedback / comments....
All around, it was filled with colourfully dull lights. Just where Ranjit lay, squirming in bed out of pain, the wall infront of it had one more red night-bulb. HE was trying to open his eyes, but he could manage opening it only partially. Just then, an extremely huge lady entered the place, and it made him sure, he was in HELL! After all, Heaven is meant for beautiful angels. Hell!, Was his life, really so much full of sins! With these thoughts in mind, he tried inquisition with the lady. But such was his conditions, that he miserably failed. He tried lifting himself toward the head of the bed.
"Wasn't your that action, enough? That now, you trying further to hurt you"
Reprimanding Ranjit, the huge nurse, moved across the room, got a syringe in her hand, came near him, took his hand and was trying to locate the veins. Ranjit was a healthy person, yet now, locating his veins was such a big headache for her. Remotely sensing the green hue, on his hand, she punctured his skin with syringe. Not allowing him the time to protest even. And he lay silent again.
In morning, when the neighbor's children were playing cricket, ball had went on Ranjit's terrace, the terrace where he lay almost presumably dead. Children out of shock, by such a horrid scene of their humorous Ranjit uncle, screamed so loudly that their parents arrived in almost no time, literally. Cops were informed, and so was "Maa", from his cell phone's address book, and he was taken to a nearby Government hospital. Yeah, Ranjit deserved this, thought his neighbor Mr.Sharma, for ruining their Sunday. There was huge loss of blood, but, as fate would have it, people of his O+ blood group and his acquaintances, proved to be too many, to even allow him to do one thing out of his wish, without any boundary.
Such was life, when he wanted to live, he was denied. It looked like, the very same people denied him the LIFE in his lifetime. When as a ten-year old kid, it fancied him to become a lemon-soda seller on the road. Lemon's colour, and fizz of the soda not only enticed him, but also gave him immense optimism. Once when he was thrashed by his parents for having fought with a kid, the tears that had ensued, faded away after seeing the lemon-soda seller. Aah, the lemon, the soda, and the fizz!!!
But as he grew older, things started turning extremely difficult for him. Ranjit and his father, were extremely happy about his admission in one of the best colleges of India. His father gifted his favourite motorbike, and he thought of gifting his father a tie. He bought the tie for his father, and had reached the entrance of his street, when someone told him about an accident, minutes ago. It was his father's dead body on which the necktie was kept, on his pyre. It was his last gift to his father.
All of 19, he was devastated, broken, and apocalypse seemed to surround him. But there was more in store. It was not even a year, when his mother decided to marry his father's colleague, a divorcee. Ranjit had always thought him to be a boorish rake, a third-grade person, a lecher. Rather, he had known. Once when he came to home mid-way through his class timing, because of high fever, he entered through the back-entrance. Today he didn't want to walk on the reflecting marble, which meant a good 25 feet walk to front entrance, when on other days, he loved to walk and see toward the ground, to see his reflection. Back-entrance used to be open for maid servants to come, in evening, and morning. Only in night it used to be closed. When he entered home, he entered a disgusting surprise. Mr. Khanna, the boor, was in his mothers room. His mother was lying stark naked on the bed, and Mr. Khanna was humping her. But he never told anyone about it, not his parents, nor himself. It all flooded his mind today, when he came to know about his mother's desire to change her surname to Mrs. Khanna.
He packed all his belongings in a bag, overnight, and when the night enveloped the world, he embraced the open world, on his Hoodibaba bike!!!
With no plausible qualification, no money, no home, no mother, he set out to write his own destiny. He did to an extent. Took a menial job, continued studying through out,took a better job in a call center, and with gift of his oratory skills soon made enough progress, to become team-leader. Throwing open his ears to all the cuss words, made by the white skinned. Soon and slowly, jingoism occupying him, because of his BPO experience. All he seem to be wanting now, by every day, was to become an IAS officer, and serve his mother Earth. He gave the exams twice, and failed to clear both times. Meanwhile, his colleague in office, Mandira seemed to be making an equally strong impression on his heart. The first kiss in the cab, led to promises of life and death together. Passion overtaking each other, every minute. Ranjit approached Mandira's father, and told him in simple words, that he would like to marry his daughter. Her father, was a retired army man, to him the thought of his son-in-law being a petty glorified-executive irked him. Further to Ranjit's ill credit, he had lost his father to life, and his mother to some boor. He set out a condition, which he thought, Ranjit would not be able to clear. Become a grade-I officer in a government job.
Mandira was made to leave the job, Ranjit left his own as well, to concentrate on IAS prep. Two years salary was enough to sustain him for another 1 year, and it did...by the time, he had cleared his PRELIMS, and given his MAINS. A day before MAINS examination, Mandira's best friend Alka, informed Ranjit, that Mandira has gone to her home-town Lucknow, and she is quite sure, Mandira would be getting forcibly married. She claimed she had enough inklings. Needless to say, perturbed Ranjit could not concentrate on his papers well. He was sure of not clearing. On further telephonic inquisition, he could make out they had gone to Lucknow for some wedding. He headed to Lucknow, where he met the Colonel father, who refused to let him meet her, claiming innocence about her whereabouts.While his home spoke in volumes, of a marriage celebration, recently concluded....Why didn't even she inform him, he thought! Was their love, so feeble!
Ranjit couldn't make out, who to live for! In hospital,When he gained consciousness, Mandira was infront of her. Impulsively, She slapped him hard, and then hugged him tight, as if never to let go of him. Then she told him, that she had gone there for her cousin's marriage. And she had seen him from the window, when he came to meet her father. She nagged about his shirt's colour, when he met her father. Maddy, as he often called her, assured him that, she would keep on meeting him, as and when possible, with the support of Alka.
Soon he was shifted to his flat. He started recovering. Mentally, and emotionally as well. He wanted to live, cry in joy, hit himself for his stupidity, rebuke himself for the suicide attempt. For the moments of self doubt, and doubt on her love. For failing to give his MAINS Examinations well. For delaying everything by an year, in the best scenario.
The day MAINS result was to be declared, he went gloom. He didn't even log on to the result website. Mandira had managed to come today. She asked him whether, if he had checked his result. There was a tinge of sadness in her voice. He said, "When I know it, why to check it?"
Aah..there she slapped him again. A tight hard slap.
"Such an asshole, Ranjit. You have cleared it!"
"Haah! Disgusting Joke! Why you reminding me, of it, even? why humiliate me?"
Another slap on his face. And he was starting to believe it.
"I mean, how come. And if its really so, why you sad? You must be kidding"
"I am sad, because for an year now on, you 'd be on training and faraway in Mussorie, Hyderabad. How would I be able to......"
Before she completed her sentence...
"..Slap me!"
There was love in the remark. There was fondness in the words. And there was the tenderness in the slap, that ensued again on his remark......
[You can post your questions, if any, in the comments section! Or, We can have a Q & A, if you all wish, lemme know...Yahoo Pingbox, apke right me hai na!!]
THE BLACK ROSE-III, would be soon written and updated...
Awaiting your critical feedback / comments....
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
New league of star kids on Bollywood’s threshold
New Delhi, May 25 (IANS) After Sonam Kapoor and Ranbir Kapoor, the legacy of star kids foraying into Bollywood continues with veteran actor Shatrughan Sinha’s daughter Sonakshi, sons Luv and Kush and comedy king Govinda’s daughter Narmmadaa set to make their debut in the industry.
Last month Sonakshi’s debut opposite Salman Khan in his brother Arbaaz’s maiden production venture was announced, but now she has reportedly walked out of the project as she wasn’t too happy with the script.
A fashion designer by profession, she made her first appearance at the Lakme India Fashion Week held in Mumbai last year. Her younger brother Luv too will follow suit and is working hard for a grand launch with “Sadiyaan”, produced by his father’s production house Shotgun Entertainment. His twin brother Kush, meanwhile, will make his debut with director Apratim Khare’s yet untitled film.
Kush was more interested in direction and went to the New York Film Academy to brush up his directorial skills. He had even assisted Sanjay Leela Bhansali during the shooting of “Saawariya” (2007).
He says he accepted an acting offer because he doesn’t want to confine himself to direction alone.
“I always believed in the saying that you should always do something you believe in but that never meant to limit yourself in any way whatsoever,” Kush was quoted as saying.
Another young talent awaiting her debut in the industry is Govinda’s daughter Narmmadaa Ahuja. According to her publicist Dale Bhagwagar, she is being signed by a well-known producer but he did not reveal further details.
“There is still some time before we can reveal the name of the producer. Narmmadaa is looking forward to a lot of commercial and glamorous roles in Bollywood at the moment,” Bhagwagar told IANS.
The practice of sons and daughters stepping into their star parents’ shoes isn’t new to the industry.
In the 1940s, legendary actor-filmmaker Raj Kapoor followed his father Prithviraj Kapoor’s footsteps and entered films. Later his younger brothers,- Shammi Kapoor and Shashi Kapoor, too joined the league.
Raj Kapoor’s three sons - Rishi, Randhir and Rajiv - entered filmdom and now their kids have followed suit too. Randhir’s two daughters Karisma and Kareena as well as Rishi’s son Ranbir have become part of the Hindi film fraternity.
Deol brothers - Sunny and Bobby - too followed their father Dharmendra’s footsteps as did actress Sharmila Tagore’s children Saif Ali Khan and Soha.
Even Vinod Khanna’s sons Akshay and Rahul stepped into showbiz, but they couldn’t repeat their father’s success story.
In the first year of the new millennium, actor-filmmaker Rakesh Roshan’s son Hrithik came into Bollywood and created ripples with his debut film “Kaho Na Pyaar Hai”.
He was soon followed by megastar Amitabh Bachchan’s son Abhishek and Kareena Kapoor who got a launchpad in J.P. Dutta’s 2001 movie “Refugee”.
Also on the list are star kids like Hema Malini’s daughter Esha Deol, Feroz Khan’s son Fardeen and Suresh Oberoi’s son Vivek.
The more recent ones to foray into filmdom are disco king Mithun Chakraborty’s son Mimoh and Shekhar Suman’s son Adhyayan.
A silly addiction
It's entirely possible that my lack of blog entries has something to do with my new addiction, "Bejeweled Blitz", a one-minute game of matching gem stones that explode loudly while a voice eggs one on with self esteem boosting words like "incredible", "fantastic", and "amazing!" I'm locked in a battle of high scores with a person from my knitting group. Who knew? Two middle-aged game junkies who have better things to do with their time. . .
. . .and I was thinking the other day, "hmmm. . .does a blog have a natural life-span?" Well, "natural" has nothing to do with it, I suppose. I haven't felt inspired to expound on anything.
I'm just getting a kick out of having today's high score. Fun for me, but for you? I think not.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Kareena smooches Akshay
Kareena Kapoor is not only adding glam to her upcoming flick Kambaqt Ishq by wearing a bathsuit, she has also indulged in a steamy liplock with co-actor Akshay Kumar in the movie.Now our young Bebo was not quite comfortable with the idea of kissing her 40+ year old co-star, the reason was that Akki was elder sister Lolo’s leading man during her hey days and Kareena was only a 12-year-old little kid who would shy away from Akki whenever she accompanied Karisma to her shootings.
So it was equally awkward for Akshay too ‘coz she is just a kid in front of him. However the kiss was neccessary for the story and both of them gave their professional commitments a priority over their personal thoughts.
Apparently its a kiss to lookout for!
French Producer Wants To Cast Bachchans
As Abhishek Bachchan is at Cannes accompanying wife Aishwarya Rai, seems like have impressed the filmmakers out there and receiving film offers. Manuel de la Roche, the Paris based producer wants to cast father-son Bollywood duo Amitabh Bachchan and Abhishek Bachchan for his next film.
French director Jan Kounen will direct the film, which is named as The Secret History of the Dalai Lamas. The director will soon approach the Bachchans with the acting offers for the film in lead roles.
Roche said, “The film will trace the history of the Dalai Lamas all the way from 14th century. It will blend dramatized re-enactments involving the earlier incarnations with excerpts from an interviews with the current Dalai Lama.”
source >> http://www.bollywoodhott.com/celebrities/french-producer-wants-to-cast-the-bachchans/
Other than these Bollywood actors, the film will also cast Hollywood biggies Sharon Stone and Richard Gere.
French director Jan Kounen will direct the film, which is named as The Secret History of the Dalai Lamas. The director will soon approach the Bachchans with the acting offers for the film in lead roles.
Roche said, “The film will trace the history of the Dalai Lamas all the way from 14th century. It will blend dramatized re-enactments involving the earlier incarnations with excerpts from an interviews with the current Dalai Lama.”
source >> http://www.bollywoodhott.com/celebrities/french-producer-wants-to-cast-the-bachchans/
Other than these Bollywood actors, the film will also cast Hollywood biggies Sharon Stone and Richard Gere.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
What I forgot about
Actually, it was the sentence before that. No, the one better that one. Uh oh.
I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but my secret fantasy "job" is to be a stand-up comedian. The thing is, I'm not funny. I have been told this repeatedly throughout my life by my father, so it must be true. I was also told that I'm so ugly that "you should make sure you have an interesting personality or you'll never have a boyfriend."
The way some comics tell it, these types of miserable childhood messages practically insure a career in comedy. Y'know, "my parents didn't treat me right, the other kids made fun of me. . .I gotta be loved by strangers. . ."
The thing of it is, I once, by pure accident, did a stand-up gig in New York City. I didn't mean to. I went to an open mike night at a club that was open mike for anything. No music, but there were writers, comedians, performance artists, and poets. I had been doing a lot of writing and I had no idea if it was any good or not, so I thought I'd read something I liked to some people I didn't know (just in case it was horrible, so I wouldn't be too humiliated).
At this open mike, you put your name in a hat, and the MC pulled out the strips of paper and then wrote up the set list, so you hadn't any idea when you were going on. It was a surprise. It could be a good fit, or not. The worst thing for me was waiting, 'cause I have terrible stage fright. I wound up being in the second set of the night, and I was on after a funny comedian, which was horrible. The audience was still laughing when I got up there, and I was going to read a somewhat serious short story. I had 8 minutes, which is an eternity on stage when you're terrified (and you don't have a guitar in front of you, which I was used to).
This guy had made some jokes (which I don't remember) about all the ads for penis enhancements in the newspaper. I don't know what newspaper he read. Oh right, he probably made the whole thing up. Anyhow, for some reason he left the stage with hundreds of little pieces of paper with ads for these services on the stage, and there I was, shaking, holding three pages of somewhat serious writing in my hands. I'd never even spoken into a microphone before except to say "check check is this thing on?" So, I'm freaking out completely.
I think I'm going to throw up, seriously, so I tell the audience that and they start laughing, so I continue talking about how upset I am about being there while they continue to laugh. Hey - this is fun! But, I'm still wanting to read my piece. I want them to stop laughing. I pick up one of those little ads off the stage and make a joke which is impossible to describe without using my hands, so you're not going to hear or see it, but it KILLED (as they say in the biz). Man, this was feeling so good. But, no, I want to read my story! What a dilemma. I started yelling at the audience that I'm not a comedian and they've got to stop laughing. You really can't go wrong when it gets to this point, so they continue laughing. . .blah blah blah. . .I read the piece. What a weird juxtaposition.
Anyway, afterwards all these performance artists ask me where they can see me perform, and someone asks me if I'm published, and I'm so freaked out I have to take a four hour walk while I calm down and drive my one companion crazy while I keep asking "did I really do that good?" over and over again.
Then I get home and don't write a thing again for years.
But, ever since then I've always wanted to be a stand-up comedian, even though the whole thing made me sick.
Now, getting back to my father, I never told him I did this 'cause I know what he's going to say. It's, "You? You're not funny!" But hearing him tell the same joke for 40-odd years sort of got to me, and so,I made the mistake of telling him that I did this gig right before we go to a big party together. Oy. We're sitting at a table with about two dozen people, and he starts telling a joke. Then, he gets to the punch line and stops. He says, "Wait. I'm gonna let my daughter finish this joke. I hear she's a comedian." I think he rolled his eyes or poked the person next to him in the side. It was pure sadism. Thanks, Dad. I don't know jokes. Okay, I know two, but that one wasn't one of them. So, of course, I look like an idiot (or maybe he did, hopefully).
Ooh, I feel guilty about that last line.
Every once in a while I think about trying to do stand up comedy, but I can't do it here in Maine. The truth of the matter is that all my humor is totally New Yawk and ethnic. My Jewish roots show in my humor, and they're all the stereotypes, too. Yiddish accents, guilt, the holocaust, Hitler, Hitler and more Hitler, self-loathing, hypochondria, Christmas in Brooklyn. . .nothing about monster trucks and deer hunting accidents, for sure. So, up here in Maine, it wouldn't go over very well. You've got to be famous, like Seinfeld, to get over with that kind of thing up here in northern New England.
I keep could writing, but this will end abruptly. "What I forgot" is just the fact that many of my blog entries used to be as disorganized as this one when I first started blogging, and some people enjoyed them. Fragments of memories. Nonsense. Tenses scrambled. I should be in bed. So, good night (or good morning or afternoon).
Photo note: Gilbert Gottfried doing his infamous Aristrocrats routine. I was trying to find a painting and said "screw it." Hey, I've never uttered a foul word on this blog before! It figures. If you've never heard the Aristocrats routine, it's about as filthy as anything in the history of of comedy (except for some of the other Aristrocrats routines).
Friday, May 22, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Strapless Wedding Gown
Strapless Wedding Gowni have looked at all the dresses everyone has posted that they are getting, have already bought or like and 95% of them are strapless, i feel like i am out of the loop or something.
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