What's Your Sign

(I write this not to solicit encouragement, but rather to show you how funny God is).

I've been a bit (read: ridiculously) stressed lately. Work stress. Performance stress. Life stress. Stress stress. And I'm doing my best to cope. You know, eat, pray, love. Blah, blah, blah. For the most part, I think I'm doing OK considering all I've got going on. Yay.

So, I get home tonight and thought to have a glass of vanilla soy milk. And because the majority of my dishes are holding my sink hostage, I use a mug rather than a glass for my nightcap. The mug I used was the only mug I had left, my Joke Horoscope Mug.

I pour my drink and sip it quietly, decompressing my whirlwind of a day in my giant brown armchair. And just as I was about to get terribly deep, I read my "joke" mug:

Libra
(September 23 - October 22)
You are the artistic type and have a difficult time dealing with reality. You spend all of your free time on the Internet as you have no real friends. Your capacity for self pity is outstanding. Chances for employment and monetary gains are non-existent. You will die a virgin.

You see, God does have a sense of humor. Hilarious. Maybe I should switch from vanilla soy milk, to vanilla vodka.

Two Turn Tables and a Microphone

One thing I've picked up from the show I'm doing is the music. No, it's not a musical, but there are a ton of songs (that I've never heard of) that are used for the transitions throughout the show.

100% of the music is hardcore rap.

Now, despite appearances, I don't listen to hardcore rap. And I've been trying to understand it and really get a sense of what the hell the rappers are saying, and why they're saying it. To do that, I've done some research. I've found the following diagrams (courtesy of jamphat.com) helpful in understanding the heart of the music:

New Maria Bamford Show!!!

Shake Whatcha Mama Gave Ya

Mom and Dad celebrating after one of my shows.

My mom rocks. (She's crazy, but she rocks). Sharon has lived through a lot. She's strong and doesn't take any shit. Mom's the kind of woman that speaks her mind and filters very little as a result. Because of that, my mother and I have had some of the most hilarious conversations I've ever had the privilege to be a part of.

I just got off the phone with her and here's a transcript of our conversation:

(Note: This conversation has not been embellished for comedy. This conversation actually happened.)

Me: Hey momma!
Mom: How's my baby doing?
Me: Good, just napping.
Mom: Don't you have rehearsal?
Me: Not today, I 'm getting some much needed rest. I had it every night this week.
Mom: I'm on a date with your father.
Me: You two are still dating?
Mom: Yes. It's his office Christmas Party on the Spirit of Philadelphia.
Me: Nice! That sounds cool. You guys all dressed up?
Mom: Girl, I look hot. I feel beautiful. I have cleavage out!
Me: Mom!?
Mom: When you get old you have to start showing cleavage. If you don't, you'll look old. Some people when they get old, they wear turtlenecks. I'm not wearing no turtle necks.

[beat]

Me: Make sure you get some pictures.
Mom: (quizzically) Of my cleavage?
Me: NO!!! Of you and dad on the boat.
Mom: Ok. Cuz I look good.

[cutting to the end of the conversation]

Mom: I'll talk with Dad about when we'll be down to see your show.
Me: Just come to the closing weekend, the first weekend in January. You'll be less busy then.
Mom: Are you sure? Won't you be stale if we wait 'til the end?
Me: When you come, wear a turtleneck.

I love you mom.

I'm just saying...

Get Out of My Dreams, Get into My Car

A little known DC fact: DC cabdrivers generally go for curly-haired, thick, black-chicks getting over a chest cold.

In the last month I've taken a few cabs . And when my drivers aren't trying to hustle me, they are coming on to me. Imagine the following being said with a thick Ghanaian or Arabic accent:

"So, is there a man waiting for you at home?"

"Why isn't your husband picking you up?"

"Are you leaving work? A good man would not make you work."

"You are so beautiful. Are you from the islands?"

"Why are you out so late? Your husband sit at home and cry why you gone."

These comments result in me talking (at length) about my imaginary boyfriend/husband/lover. I do this for two main reasons: First of all, while I might come off as a tough girl, I still can get creeped out fairly easily. So, if I get unsolicited comments like this I start to think that the cabby wants to drive me someplace that's NOT my apartment. Next thing you know, Milk Carton City. Secondly, by making up a fake man, I also get to make up a fake life which is just downright hilarious.

Here's few of my favorite Fairytale responses:

"Yes, my husband is waiting at home. He just got in from Paris. He's french. I married him so he could have his green card and we fell in love."

"My boyfriend isn't picking me up because he's sleeping. He just got back from shooting a film in NY. I can't tell you his name, but I certainly "Got my groove back." ... Diggs, I'm dating Taye Digs."

"No, I'm not leaving work. I just left the doctors. (crying) I'm pregnant and I don't know how to tell my boyfriend."

"Yes, actually. I'm from the islands but my marriage was arranged when I was very young so I grew up mostly in the states."

"I'm only allowed one night out each month. He's not crying. I made him dinner before I left and his girlfriend is there to keep him company."

Happy Saturday Night!

Unleaded.

I am currently rehearsing for a brand new show at Studio Theater, called Breath, Boom.

(Yeah, I'm kind of a big deal).

In the show, I have a massive fight and have been working tirelessly in rehearsal to get it down. On Wednesday of this week, our fight choreographer who I adore, Joel, was working with me and the rest of the cast involved in the fight sequence. At one point in the fight I get a knee to the stomach. Awesome. Right?

Well, we commence a run through of the fight at the end of the day (as we'd been working on just moments for the brunt of rehearsal). Finally, we start the fight and I get the aforementioned knee to the gut and fart.

This fart wasn't a genteel "poof." Nor was it of the SBD (silent but deadly) variety. It was the "holy-shit-did-someone-fire-a-gun" and "why-do-Natasha's-pants-suddenly-have-a-giant-hole" kind of farts.

The fight continued without me (or the rest of the cast) acknowledging the earth-shattering gastrotechics that had occurred. The next day I made a joke about it, that's what comics do. And to my delight and horror no one knew it had happened. I guess my embarrassment made it a bigger deal than it was. So basically I was coming across as a freak who enjoys discussing her farts to just about anyone who'd listen. Mortifying.

I guess it's the proverbial tree/forest question: If someone farts, and no one hears it does it make a sound?
The answer: Yep, especially if that tree had beans for dinner.

Let's Talk About Sex

How I stumbled upon this Wikipedia entry, I'll never know. This HILARIOUS article talks about Involuntary Celibacy a mental/emotional condition resulting in a persons inability to get it on.

Apparently some of the causes of involuntary celibacy condition are:

• lack of charisma or sex-appeal,
  
• disability
  
• socio-economic factors, such as homelessness and poverty
• having criminal record
• having HIV/AIDS
  
• discrimination
• disapproval of the person's partner from family and friends

So, dear friends, take a look at yourself. Take this new found information and evaluate your love life. Have you been (unknowningly) suffering with IC? If so, the answer is clear: be sexy, don't have disabilities, have money, stay out of jail, don't get AIDS, don't be an outsider, and make sure your friends and family approve of all your decisions.

Bingo-bango, no more Involuntary Celibacy. You're welcome.

Stay tuned for my forthcoming blog entries: "Arranged Marriages, Arranged Happiness," "Too Much Masturbation Leads to Carpal Tunnel and Joy," and "What's Love Got to Do with It: My Foray into the Oldest Profession."

Crazy Genius

So, another name to add to my list-o-comedic-inspiration is Maria Bamford. This chick is bananas (seriously, she is), and one of the most talented comics I've seen.



I think the fearlessness it takes to wrestle your demons in public, using the medium of humor, requires a certain level of madness. The kind of madness that makes you sane.

"Oh, go home!"

I've been introspective as of late, and began to wonder why it is I do what I do. You know, why I do the comedy thing. And why it matters so much to me, that I take it so seriously.

Then I became reminded of these comedians, who happen to be women (I'll save you my rant on women in comedy), who have had such a huge impact on me. I cannot think of "comedy" or "comedic genius" without considering them, their body of work, and their contribution to the world of comedy. Of course there are more women and men that have influenced me, but these guys rock my world.

When I grow up, I want to be like...



(L-R: Lucille Ball, Lilly Tomlin, Whoopi Goldberg, Tracy Ullman, Carol Burnett, Gilda Radner)

Say What?

I grew up in a very conservative, very strict household. This affected nearly every aspect of my young life - particularly what music I was "allowed" to listen to.

I remember one particular day when the issue of music was addressed head on. One day when I was in the car with my mother (I was driving, clearly too old to be told what to listen to). I was feeling bold, so I asked my mom if I could turn from the Christian radio station and listen to the Top-40 station.


To my shock and delight, she said yes. I wasted no time in turning the station. I stopped the dial when I heard my FAVORITE song start to play. It was the newest hit from Blue, Too Close.

I had heard this song many times at school and in my room (out of earshot of my parents). I was thrilled to be pumping it for my mom.


The following is what happened on that fateful day:

(Both my mother and I are dancing in our seats, and I begin to sing along).

Baby when we're grinding
I get so excited
Oh, how I like it
I try but I can't fight it
Oh you're dancing real close
Plus it's real, real slow
You're making it hard for me.

(I hear the last lyric and get what it means. I look over at my mom).

All the slow songs you requested
You're dancing like you're naked
Oh, it's almost like we're sexing (oh yeah)

(My mom looks over at me.)

Yeah boo, I like it
No, I can't deny it
But I know you can tell
I'm excited, oh girl

(I roll down the window to try to drown out the sound.)

Step back you're dancing kinda close
I feel a little poke coming through
On you
Now girl I know you felt it
Before you know I can't help it
You know what I wanna do

(We hit a stop light, so the wind is no longer helping to muffle the radio.)

Baby girl's dancing so close
Ain't a good idea
Cuz I'mma want you now and here
The way that you shake it on me
Makes me want you so bad sexually
Oh girl

(I reach for the dial to turn the station, but my mom stops me).

Baby when we're grinding
I get so excited
Ooh, how I like it
I try but I can't fight it
Oh, your dancing real close
Plus real real slow
You're making it hard for me

(My heart is pounding, and I being to sweat.)

[Blue] I love when you shake it like that, ah, ah, ah
[Girl] I see that you like it like that, ha, ha, hahh
[Blue] I love when you shake it like that, ah, ah, ah
[Girl] I see that you like it like that, ha, ha, hahh

(I start to speed in an effort to get home before I faint.)

Baby when we're grinding
I get so excited
Ooh, how I like it
I try but I can't fight it
Oh, your dancing real close
Plus real real slow
You're making it hard for me

(This repeats four times....playing the whole way home.)

I pull into our driveway and turn off the car. My mother and I sit in silence. The only thing that can be heard is my sound of my uneven breaths.

My mother and I still have never spoken of this incident.

My mother has loosened up quite a bit since then. Irony of ironies, my mother sang the following chorus to me while dancing (suggestively) in the kitchen, the last time I was up to visit her:

This is why I'm hot [2x]
This is why [2x] Uh
This is why I'm hot (Uh)
This is why I'm hot [2x] Whoo
This is why [2x]
This is why I'm hot


My mom is awesome.

BLOG WAR!!!!

Some of you who have read my blog may have noticed the absence of something. That thing is douchebaggery.

Sadly, I am being forced to address the worst kind of douchebaggery, the unfunny douchebloggery. I have taken a vow to steer clear of things that call to mind the horror of trying to sit through some unfunny joke. However, I must take a moment to subject you to some of the most trite, self-absorbed, deluded, "comedy" dribble known man.

(un)Welcome to http://www.dccomedy4now.blogspot.com/.

If you are any of the following you might find a use for this "blog":

1. You are a sadomasochist and are looking for a new way to torture yourself.
2. You are angry with a friend and want them to regret being born.
3. You are looking to become celibate and need something to turn you off for the next 10 years.
4. You are drunk and you need something to help you throw up.
5. You ran out of toilet paper and need something to wipe your ass.
(In this case, print a copy or simply poop on your computer).
6. You want to hear about (and from) the hottest comics in DC. In which case, you should visit their site often.


Is it just me, or do all three of these look the same?


(note the douchestache)

WAR ON!!!

I have a weakness for Jews.

I know everyone is flipping out over the new Andy Samberg/SNL comedy creation. And I was ready to hate it, but I dig it. I dig it a lot. I love the style, subject, and delivery. Finally, I think that this short takes the level of parody on SNL to a new, respectable level. There, I said it.



And even though I hate that I've bought in to the SNL Digital Short revolution, I can take solace in the fact that I was was a fan of Samberg back when he was in the Channel 101 series, The Bu. (I was a fan of all of the Lonely Island projects).

So, I hopefully I don't loose too much "cred" for being a member of the Andy Samberg Fan Club.

Genius or Psycho

These "Chris Crocker" videos intrigue me. Either this kid is genius and is taking the country for a ride, or he's just another crazy-with-a-camera.

You decide.