Babies, the Epidemic

There is a an epidemic of baby-making among my friends and I'm terrified.
Here's the thing, my friends used to be cool.
We were post neo-feminist-anarchists. Joanie had a green mohawk, Astrid was a lesbian, Lori couldn't fall in love unless she was on ecstasy.
None of us were gonna have babies! We thought: there are enough people on this planet, we're crowding each other out, were killing ourselves off.
It wasn't even like we planed to be independent career women, we were just rebellious and angry and idealistic. The world was fucked and we'd be damned if we were going to buy into all it's backwards fascist systems. We'd read the “Feminist Mystique” and “Backlash”. We'd been date raped, we knew what the world was like.
Now it's all wedding this and baby that. Now its picking colors and matching names.
It's boring and depressing and awful.
Not dangerous, not defiant.
“You guys should totally have kids.” Joanie suggests.
Me and Greg? Kids?
I don't know.
“Well,” she says “decide soon, you'll avoid a lot of tests.”

Soon I'm gonna be the age where it's called a geriatric pregnancy. I'm fine: healthy, strong. My uterus on the other hand is like, “has anyone seen my hearing aide”.
Okay if I get too old we can adopt. Lots of fun: adoption. We can get a cute little baby girl from Cambodia, and when she grows up Greg can run away with her and marry her like Woody Allen did.

“Tell Greg you want to have a baby.” Joanie commands.

When either of us brings up having kids the other pretends to get diarrhea. What if he stays undecided and my now in limbo uterus withers away and dies an old crusty uteral death while his energetic little gents can just go popping around looking for some fresh young ovaries to call home.

I can't have a child, I can't even clean up after myself, I can't even clean myself. I leave the house without deodorant almost everyday! What's that gonna be like for some poor kid, “Oh sorry mommy left without you again today, I know it's hard cause you're still breast-feeding...”
I might be awful after I have a baby, all stretched out and pissed off.
And sex? With a baby in the house?
Brad and Angelina don't even do it anymore, and they're the sexiest people on the planet, how could average sexy people like Greg and me survive that?

And can I really trust him with a baby? He has worse ADD then me, he might leave it on the top of the car and drive off or something. And he can be rude, what if he's rude to the baby? If that mother fucker is rude to my baby I will kick him in the balls.

My career is a pregnancy. I am pregnant with ideas, I am pregnant with opportunities, I am pregnant with hopes and dreams. I am pregnant with a baby elephant, that's what I am. A giant one ton baby elephant that feels ready to come out, but wait, not yet, another month, another year another couple of years...never. I am pregnant with a colossal baby elephant and it never comes out. I just carry this thing around in pain until I die. I keep thinking it's coming, I get contractions, I do the breathing, the water breaks. Oh my god, how am I going to deliver an elephant, I'm a human, a very small human. Contractions, pain, nothing comes out.

What if nothing ever happens, no real baby, no real elephant. I grow old and penniless with my cats who get old and incontinent.
I could be the weird old aunt to all these kids. I could wear funny hats and bake ugly cookies for Christmas presents. People would point at me in the grocery store, “that crazy old lady, she was really going somewhere, but no where came too fast and she lost it.”

It's just more feasible to be a total loser then to have it all. They warned us girls not to want it all. Career, husband and baby; one, two, three. It should be easy. Like a shopping spree, “There's the career aisle, the husband aisle is there and the babies are available at the check out next to the candy and magazines, you have 20 minutes... go!”
Then I can say I've taken care of that! And sit down with a book without feeling like I'm wasting my life away.

I've had glimpses of motherhood. Recently I transported my cat on my lap in the car as I drove (very Brittany). He was so scared he peed all over me. Then he shit on me. I still love him, that's mother-like.
And the tomato seeds I planted are starting to burst through the soil, that's like making babies.
Except you can eat them.

I know one day it's just gonna happen. One day I'm gonna look at a baby and the baby will look at me and it'll cast it's spell on me like Medusa. Suddenly there'll be a dull ache in my fallopian tubes and it'll travel up to my heart which will swell with some sort of mystical mothering type of love and that will spread to my brain and my eyes will blur with a rosy fog and I'll turn to whatever man is around and use him in a way I have never used a man before.
And then I'll have a kid and I'll be someone's mom and someone's baby's mama. And if all goes well everyone will grow-up and I'll grow up too and no one will be an elephant.

Being a Good Person

I never thought it was going to come into question whether I was a good person or not. I was pretty sure on the continuum from "good person" to "evil bastard" I easily fell around "decent citizen" with a general intention to always be good or at least better.

Well, I am just about ready to give up trying to be a good person.

Being a good person has gotten way too hard and complicated. It used to be all you had to do was smile at your butcher and not kill your spouse. But now, in today's world, you have to follow more and more rules every day. Rules that seem that seem to split and multiply right before your eyes like gremlins. Rules that aren't based on law, just the ethic that once you are aware that you are ruining the world with everything you do, you should make an serious effort to change.

Now, to be even a decent citizen, you have to recycle and drink organic fair trade coffee and buy clothes that weren’t made by children in Cambodia and make-up that wasn’t tested on bunnies. And make sure you drink your filtered water from reusable canisters, but not plastics because those are made from petroleum which funds terrorists and pollutes the air. And that is on-par with beating children with canned vegetables in a polyester pillowcase.

Still, you have to smile at your butcher, but watch out who you smile at because it may be misinterpreted. Don't smile at the homeless guy, but do smile at the black guy and the Arab guy so you don’t look racist, but not too much so you wont be accused of displaying liberal guilt. Certainly don’t smile at the group of Mexicans outside the Home Depot, because they may mob you. If you really want to help them, write to your congressperson about immigration laws. Definitely take the time to learn about immigration laws.

You should also smile at that bitch at work, even though it’s fake and you know she hates you and wants to steal your handbag, your job and your spouse (I'd kill him!) Smile at her because it’s better to spread love, not hate. If we all just fill our hearts with love and forgiveness the world would truly be a better place.

Not a better place for all the abandoned animals at the shelters though. Millions and millions of sweet, loving doggies and kitties are unnecessarily killed every year in shelters. So make sure you fix your adopted pet. Don't ever buy a pet; adopt! Only total jerk-offs buy their pets now a days, everyone knows that.

It stands that you should still not kill your spouse, unless you’re kinky and you’re role-playing and it goes horribly wrong. Or he’s dying already and you’re killing him is a mercy euthanasia thing that you two agreed on together. In which case that's a fascinating moral dilemma that may land you on Oprah (who is the very embodiment of all goodness). Then you can write a book about it, and your book will become a movie. And when people comment on your amazing success you can sadly look down because you would give it all up for one more day with your deceased spouse. Cue tear.

We've destroyed the oceans by the way, so make sure you don't eat fish which is full of mercury. Not to mention eating fish somehow encourages Japanese fishermen to slaughter dolphins, so you should probably boycott all fish. And don’t eat corn or wheat or fruit because we’re raping the earth to get that to the table. And once the Earth is raped to death where will we go when we want to watch TV? And for God's sake, don’t eat chickens, cows, or pigs. They are are considered holy in some cultures and they can contemplate their existence and are tortured before you buy them all divided up and wrapped in plastic in the meat section. So don’t smile at the butcher after all. He’s a dick.

It's all just too exhausting. I care about these things, I really do. But I can't do it all, no one can. If you knew someone who did everything right, they'd be super self-righteous, obnoxious and annoying, like a vegan. And one day after living so virtuously they'd snap and probably kill their spouse.

This is Frankie, dressed as Ann Margret.

She Works Hard for the Money

At my sort-of friend Katie's birthday party in the the 3rd grade I learned the horrible fate that would control my life. I found out the day of the week I was born on and which child that was. Here is the poem:

Mondays child is fair of face,
Tuesdays child is full of grace,
Wednesdays child is full of woe,
Thursdays child has far to go,
Fridays child is loving and giving,
Saturdays child works hard for his living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

Everyone wanted to be a Monday's child, or a Friday's child, but I was the only one who was a Saturday's child, working hard for a living.

The girls broke into Donna Summer's "She works hard for the money" and I, embarrassed and dismayed, went to help Katie's mom in the kitchen.

My life thus far has been a testament to the truth in the statement about Saturday's child. Listed below are most of the many jobs I've had since that fateful day in 3rd grade.


1. Teeth Brusher (first regularly paying gig)
2. Babysitter
3. Face Painter at fairs
4. Grocery Store Cashier
5. Front Desk Clerk at all Woman's Fitness Facility
6. Clerk at Laundry
7. Promotional rep for Levi's jeans
8. Animal care at Nature center
9. Aide in psychiatric hospital
10. Stage guard at music festal
11. teacher's Aide at facility for developmentally disabled adults (retarded)
12. Professional deadhead, included: sale of jewelry, apples, shirts and hair wraps
13. Tattoo painter at amusement park
14. Shot girl at Razzoo's on Bourbon St.
15. Waitress at Spa in Telluride
16. Barista at the Coffee Cowboy in Telluride, CO
17. Ski School sales
18. Natural Foods Deli clerk
19. Cocktail waitress in dance club
20. Health Food Store Cashier
21. Busboy (girl)
22. Ski Instructor, Tahoe, CA
23. Snowboard Instructor, Homewood, CA
24. Veterinary Aid for Kenyan Wildlife Services
25. Gymnastics Instructor
26. Animal rehab in Tahoe, CA
27. Sales for long distance phone carrier
28. Bloomingdales Cashier
29. Bartender Beatle Nut Grill, NY
30. Promotional postcard instillation rep, NYC
31. Cocktail Waitress,Hudson Bar and Books, NYC
32. Free movie ticket distributor, NYC
33. Promotions for restaurants.com
34. Avon calling
35. Personal Assistant to Lingerie mogul
36. Receptionist for graphic design firm
37. Dog walker
38. Cocktail waitress at strip club
39. Domina & other fetish artisan, NYC
40. House keeper, vacation rentals, Tahoe CA
41. Cookie baker (attempt at Mrs. Fields)
42. Pepsi Challenge rep
43. Event Ticket sales for Jewish Cultural Center L.A.
44. Hostess at the Ivy restaurant, L.A. and Santa Monica
45. Test patient for pharmaceutical company
46. Whip-it sales
47. Actor
48. Characters at parties, included: Snow White, Cinderella, Jasmin, Powerpuff girl
49. Shoe model
50. Stand-in on movies
51. Front desk receptionist at gym, L.A.
52. Waitress at Ivy at the Shore
53. Backround
54. Stand-up Comic
55. T.V. writer
56. Telemarketer for non-profits
57. Promotional rep for children dance and music academy
58. Focus group participant
59. Personal Trainer
60. Caterer (several companies)
61. Grounds & Maintenance for LASD
62. Paid Audience member
63. Test viewer for TV pilots
64. Guest teaching artist for at-risk youth with Unusual Suspect's Theater Company
65. Office work, National Writer's Union
66. Test patent for Dental Students
67. Clown
68. Author of sorts
69. Fitness Instructor
70. Casting Office Assistant
71. Clerk, World Store in the Galleria Mall, White Plains NY
72. Proof Reader, scripts, LA
73. Sound Tester- Cochlear Implants, LA
74. Event Party Hostess, Friar's Club NYC
75. Valet parker, Los Angeles


This is a partial list, I keep remembering more and more jobs as I write. I also tried to keep them in order, but that was impossible and I'm too lazy to re-do the numbers as I go. I made a point not to write all the different acting jobs or stand-up gigs, since those professions by definition are many jobs, each different. Some of the jobs I had for years, others I quit or was fired after a week (or a day, as with the personal assistant job). It may surprise you to know that even though I've had so many jobs, I've never stopped struggling. So sad, pathetic actually. In college i doubled majored in Biology and Dance/ Theater, that might have been a hint that I have a hard time deciding on ONE thing and just sticking to it.

I'd love to hear from you, if you have a list to share. Also I really want to hear from anyone who had just one job, or one career.

No Vacancy

When single, I explain the sudden influx of attention from the dudes as my "Vacancy light" being switched on.

When taken, I explain the lack of male interest as the "No Vacancy" light.

It's a weird phenom that I've noticed my entire adult life.

Waiting on Thalia

I am currently writing the first few chapters of a book, which really means I'm spending a lot of time online, looking at facebook, looking at shoes, reviewing the details of my cable bill. This has been going on for weeks. I do get shit done, I do get writing done, I do...

Thalia is the Muse of humor and some other stuff, poetry, pros? Whatever. I like to look at her little smirk and say "help me!" She laughs -at me, not with me. I am the butt of her joke.

Really I need the muse of focus, the anti ADD muse. The Muse that divines adderall. Or just a time when people just sat down and got stuff done. Now there is always so much going on. My head is always busy and my mouth is always dry. As soon as I find one thing and focus I get an idea about something else I should be doing, and something else and then I need a glass of water. Tap water, because those plastic bottles are ruining the planet. Ask yourself when you are drinking from one of those horrible things "do I hate the earth?"

Just now I looked up and my fridge was slightly open and I said to my future husband "do you hate the earth?" which pissed him off. Thalia laughs at him too.

Nice tangent, see what I mean.

Now I really must get to work. Stop distracting me. stop. I mean it, good-bye.

Sean...

If you're here you may have linked from Sean's site. Please post something if you haven't already. Every time I read something new I feel like Sean is right here with us again. Over the last few days I have met so many people who love Sean. We tell stories and laugh until we cry. Sean was such a force in all of our lives.

I met Sean at the same time I met Greg, I was lucky enough to get to hang out with the all the time. Greg and I quickly became an item, but when we all hung out I was the third wheel, and truly happy to be there.
Please visit Sean's site:

http://benthecanary.com/
also check out We Fall Down - a project we've been working on

And the here's a link to Greg's photos Check it out.... He is incredibly talented.

Also to see when my most recent TV appearance will air again on E! Entertainment check out http://www.eonline.com/On/101/EvenBiggerCelebrityOops/index.html