The Rube

This week’s wrap up———the search continues.

First—I’m done with Winter. I just want to be pretty and sit in the sun.  Shallow, but I’m over 40 so who gives a shit. Plus, my skin is as dry as a bowl of chopped up hooves. I need to find a new apt. that doesn’t involve someone renting out for their Aunt in Nigeria.

I realized I am also great in person.  A regular hoot. But on paper I sound like a dishrag. Hi—my name is Jenny. I’m in my early 40’s, comedian and have two cats. Should be the name of the next best horror film. I have received wonderful responses. Sublets where people refuse to remove their serial killer stained beds. Strange men telling me I can keep my cats in a yard and play with them from time to time. The search continues. Honestly, I thought I would be settled down with a man in a Heather Grey J Crew cable knit sweater by a lake somewhere at this point, but after currently going through my 86th breakup, I see that search also must continue.

I also realized I have grown accustomed to the show “Girls”.  I don’t know if I finally realized it was comforting, even though I am 42 and they are two.  Maybe it’s the New York vibe, although quite different from my New york 20’s vibe, but yet not, because I liked to flash my tits then too. It could be that I am a sucker for a show about a bunch of chicks going through some shit, or it could really just be the sweet scene with the dog at the end of the last episode. Whatever is———-I may just celebrate by getting naked in the months to come. Gotta flaunt it before I am nothing but an Aligator trudging through gutters, to get to my next comedy show.

JR

Life is just a bowl of cherries—-

——I wrote this awhile back——but I like it so will share again.

And if I’m going to be poor, I want to look like this. The brooding Flapper. A cute pixie cut and an empty bank account. A flask instead of a gun to shoot myself because times are so tough. I don’t want to go the local bar and try to sip other people’s drinks because I don’t have enough for my own. I wanna hit up the old Speak Easy on Charles St.-I wanna smoke 18 cigarettes and talk about books, while sipping gin, that was made in some old attic. I want a Jazz Band—I wanna sing. I wanna wear my slinky emerald green dress with tiny raindrop beads and I wanna sing! Some smokey tune about how some old drunk left me —headed west for a better life and left me behind—I wanna sing! and maybe some liar of a man in a tattered suit will slip me his business card. He’ll tell me he’s got a a little joint in the South of France where I can go sing all night in the bars on the beach and live for free. I’ll be tan all day so it won’t matter that I’m aging. I’ll be the envy of all at this old Speakeasy. It will almost seem like I’m a somebody for a minute. I’ll stay there all night singing, smoking, drinking and being the it girl of the daunting depression. Then I’ll slink out in the early hours, squinting, because I’ve forgotten my glasses. I’ll saunter on home, strappy heels in hand, feet calloused and torn. I’ll sit on my little window seat covered with lace I stole from some dressmakers shop. I’ll sip strong hungarian coffee and write another chapter on the Underwood. It won’t matter that I’m poor. It won’t matter at all.

Top Ten Things I want in 2013—

I’m usually pretty humble-but these are just a few little things that I would like for the New Year.

1. Fame

2. TV Show

3. Published novel

4. My own farm

5. Expensive scented candles for life

6. People hit in the face with a small brick every time they say, LOL.

7. To find out exactly what it is The Kardashians really do

8. An unwanted hair machine that I step in and it rids me of what is unnecessary.

9. An 8th day of the week to just get back to basics.

10. Yes, the perfect under eye cream.

One last thought for 2012—

This post will be brief and to the point.  Perhaps—after New Years, I will have something more to say.  As of today—this is is all I got.

It’s wonderful and touching when you see a couple that’s been together for like 50 years. And they are still smiling together. Somehow- they got through all the bullshit and everything is ok. Because- when it comes down to it— there’s just so much bullshit that blurrs our vision and hearts.

And what a week it was…

In the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, I find myself feeling out of sorts.  I have the what day is it feeling. The what happened feeling.  But, none of my little feelings compare to the ones that have experienced such great loss this week.  It was as if one minute, we were secretly excited for a day off.  Perhaps a day to rest, bunker in, watch TV—a sort of “snow day” in a sense.  However, within an instant this excitement was gone.   As the days set in, that little kid feeling of getting to stay home was gone.  I was lucky to only lose power for one day.  I now reside in Staten Island, “the forgotten borough”, as it is so sadly called.  Who doesn’t make fun of Staten Island.  I grew up in New York, and until now, I found myself there, maybe twice.  But now—and again through tragedy, do we develop a new sense of love for things and for little ‘Ol Staten Island.  I can see the massive trees that have fallen around my neighborhood.  But I cannot imagine what people are going through in the neighborhoods where there is real devastation.  I am truly sorry about that.

I want to dedicate this post to all of the people that have suffered throughout the week.  I want to dedicate this post to all of my friends and loved ones that I thought about this week and wanted to hug, or share a laugh with.  I was lucky to have power and therefore I could still make dumb jokes on Facebook and Twitter.  I could still reach out to people even though the phone didn’t work.  (but who really uses the phone these days anyway)  But overall, I feel very fortunate to have what I have.  The hardest thing is watching people cry about not only losing their homes, but their memories and pictures.  In the end, that is all you want.  You want your loved ones and you want those old photos and cherished mementos.  I know what it is like to lose your things like photos and memories in boxes from your childhood and it hurts a great deal.  You can always buy another Ikea Desk, but ya can’t replace that stupid picture of you and your Father, sittin’ on a city stoop.

And so what a week it was.  Hurricane Sandy blew in strong and kicked our asses.  The Halloween parade was canceled.  I hope all the Trannies around the city are not too pissed about that.  The New York Marathon was canceled.  This was not only the right thing to do, under the circumstances, but it made me feel it was okay that I had spent the year drinking wine and and partaking in limited exercise.  I lost an old friend, Larry Bloch, who not only founded and and ran one of my favorite old New York haunts and workplace, Wetlands Nightclub—-but was like an Uncle to me.  We lost a great man to that bastard Cancer.  But we will always remember him and all the wonderful ways he tried to make this place a bit better.  

I bid you all a better week.  I am happy to be here and able to write this to all of you.  It’s the little things.

All my love,

Jenny

and P. S. Please Vote!

We need to stop worrying about the following-

1-Getting the perfect Profile Picture

2-How many “likes” we get for that particular update.

3-If he “liked” it, it doesn’t mean he wants to marry you.

4-If he didn’t “like” it, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you.

5-What you see in the mirror is not half as bad as you think.  However, do not look in a magnifying mirror. 

6-Just because they got famous doesn’t mean you’re a loser.  (This only applies to paranoid actors and comedians)

7-If you do not participate in Social Media for a week, you will not be forgotten.  There is still life out there.

8-Take it personally whenever some shmuck says, “don’t take this personally”.  You’re human.  it’s ok.  Fuck ‘em.

9-Don’t worry about using that Splenda shit.  It tastes awful.  Anything fake sucks.

10-I will come up with a number 10 later.  But basically—-let’s all try to relax.

Things people say that we loathe—

1. “I’ll keep you in mind”. Most likely they will not.

2. ” I’m busy”. No, you are not. You are on Facebook.

3. “I’m so broke”. Unless you’re depositing one dollar because you have 19 in the bank and you need to withdraw 20, you’re not totally broke.

4. “I’m really trying to get things together”. Are ya though? Or are you just watching Netflix?

5. “Just out of curiosity…”. This really means “why the fuck did you do that?

More to come. Have a nice day! ( do we really mean that - probably not)

The Curse of The Only Child-

 In a perfect world, our parents would always take care of us.  They would offer us a little money (every week) and possibly even ship us off to Greece from time to time.  In a perfect world, these parents might have even decided at one point to have another child.  We’ve all heard of brothers and sisters, right?  Try them—they’re quite nice.

   Growing up as an only child was wonderful when I was young.  I received all of my parent’s attention.  I, for the most part had everything and anything I needed.  I was spoiled, but not in the negative sense where I turned into an asshole brat.  I grew up in the West Village in New York City and my parents were cool and intelligent hippies, that still remained responsible and always made me feel safe.  Our house was very eclectic, filled with animals, plants and music and plenty of laughter.  I never felt lonely and learned at a very early age, how to be quite independent.  However, I only wish that among all the independence and art talks and the discussions of Bob Dylan being a genius—-that maybe my parents would have used their creative brains a little bit more and made another kid.  So again— while it is great when you’re young, the hard part is when you get older—when your parents get older.  When people start to get sick.  When your parents get older and are poor and they come knocking on your door.  When your father gambles away your family’s life savings and comes to you for extra dough from time to time.  These are the times it would help to be able to call brother Joe or sister Sally and tell them they need to take the next phone call from the folks.  Possibly, they could be the one to take in the parents when they get evicted later in life.  That helpful sibling could accompany you to the hospital or perhaps even go by themselves and talk to countless and heartless doctors about your father’s tumor or mother’s mental health.

   Now, don’t get me wrong, I love my crazy parents, but we all need to live our own lives and when your parents take over your life, it can lead to a nervous breakdown before it’s time.  The curse of the only child is having to bear the weight of the world and your parents all at the same time.  You are the only one that is there to deal with the frantic phone calls, the trips to the Medicaid office and the change of the colostomy bag.  I have always envied my friends, as they pass off annoying parental tasks and requests to their beloved siblings.  You don’t even have to love your brother or sister.  You can loathe them and still they have to at least listen to you.  I have grown tired of listening to myself express my woe regarding my parents to others.  With a sibling, I wouldn’t have to preface each story with an, “ I’m sorry I’m going on about this”.  They would already know about your degenerate parents stealing all the joy you have left before are actually the same age as them!

   So, while it was always great kicking back with my folks as a kid—hearing stories about the sixties and listening to actual full length albums—-I only wish that I had someone to turn to, to discuss the decline of my parents and maybe get some assistance.  Can a kid get a break around here?

   I am an only child and I must deal with the cards I was dealt.  But I want to offer a word to the wise for future parents out there—or the parents that have a toddler.  I order you to have another.  I know the world is falling apart and you’re not sure if you want to bring another child into a world, where soon there may not be Polar Bears left, but trust me-your child may love you when they are young, but by the age of 40, they will be hating your every move.  They will be turning off their phone.  They will be cutting you off financially.  I know this world is for the rich now and it may seem insane to have even one kid, let alone two, trust me.  Rob a bank if you have to—steal a loaf of bread and eggs to feed the kid, but have that second child.  You don’t need to have the bible belt 19 kids—but at least two.  This especially goes for the parents that did not save for that rainy day called old age and may even lose everything they own.  While it may sound humorous to listen to your dad sing show tunes and dance with nurses in the hospital—I assure you, this all soon fades. And to all the other cursed only children out there—I feel your pain and can only hope someone somewhere has started an only children’s anonymous group, because god knows we could all use the help.