Wednesday, March 31, 2010


Tomorrow is my beloved father's birthday. I thought an honorable way to pay homage to this man I referred to as 'dad,' would be to write about him in his memory. Yianni, as his mother named him, was born appropriately on April fools day. Not because he was a fool by any means! Simply because by nature he was a very trusting soul. He actually believed in people and trusted they were truthful. Disheveled in his appearance, Yianni was sloppy and unkempt. He had unpredictable mannerisms and weird affectations that were positively alien to those who witnessed them. He was completely uncoordinated and clumsy in his speech. His sentences seemed cryptic and each word was so grossly mispronounced, we quite literally had to decipher each word as if we were playing a never ending game of scrabble.

He was the image of a man one may choose to edit out of their consciousness. He looked beaten and exhausted. His hair was clumped up on the top of his head like a birds nest. He looked as if he had just narrrowly escaped death...very skillfully, yet again! He was, if truth be known, on a very vacuous level an embarrassment to me most of my teenage life. He wasn't going to make the cover of GQ or win any awards any time soon. In fact, he was clinically deaf, sporting an antiquated hearing aid that stuck out of the side of his head like a fetus, AND he was legally blind. He wore these thick glasses resembling headlights. Driving with him was always a near death experience and no wonder! What we essentially had in control of our vehicle was "the Pinball Wizard.' He was a real estate broker and his legacy emulated that of "Death of A Salesman." In short, this man seemingly struggled effortlessly. He was the father of an autistic child before autism could speak. At a prehistoric time when autism was mislabelled 'retarded.' He was under paid, under laid, and painfully DEVALUED! Despite it all, this man woke up every morning @ 7am for 50 years and went to work. He came home every night @ 7pm with a smile and a story. He was a great storyteller. He told 'big fish' tales that had us engaged and wondering if my father believed the fictitious stories he told. He did not drink and he NEVER laid a hand on us. That was Despina's (my mom) department. He was as gentle as a lamb, EXCEPT during football, baseball and basketball season. A fervent lover of sports, he would often scream or holler at the TV during ALL games as if he was the coach from the couch. He would get so heated, that it would set off his hearing aid into a deafening pitch which immediately provoked and aggravated my brother into a banging fit. An autistic child's favorite pastime!

Yes, Yianni was in arguably as imperfect as they come. Yianni was the best kept secret. He may have left the world unnoticed by most....but to me he is the very reason I breathe, impart love and lend laughter into the world through my chosen path as a Comic. In essence, he really is a part of me that lives on. He was my inspiration, my mentor, my determination and my beloved father. I love you Dad. Rest in peace.

Your loving daughter,


Monday, March 29, 2010

You know we're in a recession when......

I want to go to church to pray about the economy, but I can't afford the COVER CHARGE! Recently, I felt the need to become more spiritual and reconnect with my Greek Orthodox roots. Being inquisitive most of my life I explored several different paths that would make my ancestors cringe. Orthodox being the literal definition of 'true opinion' and Greek being the literal voice of my mother threatening us every Sunday morning right before church: ' you hev unteeel I count tew 3 tew get out from bed and get readee for-eh church!!!!' So, as you can see the combination lead to a path of rebellion. Or as some may refer to as: A path to perdition. In any event for whatever reasons, (and there are always reasons), I felt the desire to reconnect with my faith. Being a comic is not exactly a spiritual path. Laughter is the greatest thing in the world, but content is scrutinized constantly...or at the very least 'unholy' by many standards. I woke up Sunday very early which is a very difficult thing for me to do, because I'm out doing comedy on Saturday nights until at least 1am and by the time I drive home its as late as 2am sometimes. Anyhoo, diligent to pursue my reawakened spiritual path I got up (reluctantly, and reminded myself it was for a good cause), got showered and dressed for church. Its been a while since I've been to church so a very superstitious part of me felt as if the minute I stepped into church, I would hear the harrowing voice of God scolding me with dialogue from the exorcist. "GET OUT!' When I got there I walked over to the candle station and bought or 'donated' a couple of bucks for the candle, (which seemed reasonable...after all, wax doesn't grow on trees), then I walked to one of the pews in the back and sat myself down in the isle seat (prefer it on airplanes and in church). I was desperate for some prudence. I was all ears when the priest proceeded to give the liturgy. Immediately right in the middle of his sermon my eye was pulled to the bottom of his garment or very ornate robe. I was fixated on his feet. He was wearing these cowboy boots just as ornate as his robe. they had silver custom made tips and silver backs, complete with spurs. This is not a hyperbole. I looked around to see if anyone else noticed it? How could they not???? I mean his feet were fully exposed for that very purpose. He was showing off his ostentatious boots and he was unapologetic! Well, over stated boots are not really my thing at church. Basically, they distracted me and I couldn't focus on the sermon. I have A.D.D., A.D.H.D, O.C.D, nuff said! He lost me! I wanted to say: 'Father know your demographic,' this isn't a gay bar or a rodeo. I like your duds, but you lost me!' Believe me I love to show off the twins but how distracting would that be at church? I also would love to wear spandex and purple lipsick to court, but again it's just a little inappropriate for that setting. Just as I was starting to refocus I noticed they were passing a basket around. I reached into my pocket and donated a couple of bucks. Fifteen minutes later.... right in the middle of the sermon they pass another basket around. I donate another couple of bucks. 20 minutes after that....they pass yet ANOTHER basket around and I COMPLETELY IGNORE IT!!! I can feel myself getting angry! How many times are they going to pass that basket around? Between his boots and the baskets I was so dizzy, I needed a drink and couldn't wait for communion. Before we could even get to that point they announced that they are going to be collecting more money. Only this time they wanted each person individually to walk to the front and donate money. I was thankful I was in the isle seat because I was plotting my escape. I was tapped!! The well was empty! I had lint in my pockets! In short, I was broke!!! Now they were individually calling upon trustees of the church who have donated superfluously to the church. And they started somewhat applauding or praising their generosity. This became a sermon of money!! And I left feeling ANGRY!!! Better than the poor schmuck who might leave feeling guilty. I have through out my life been confronted with this very same problem in other faiths, in other churches, other religions, other spiritual forums. WHY does it always come down to the mighty dollar? I'm by no means adverse to donations and have held numerous benefits throughout the years as a comic and entertainer to help those less fortunate or in need. I believe there are good churches, good priests, good pastors, Rabi's, monks, nuns, PEOPLE! But it deflates me just a little every time I run into this GREED!! And cant help thinking....'is it really going to the poor? or is it going into the priests bank account?' That being said if home is where you hang up your hat....then enlightenment surely comes from within. All you have to do is maintain an open heart and mind.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

infomercials are making BILLIONS! Why am I POOR??!!

At first, these intrusive 'short film' commercials were played for the insomniac with an overactive brain which left them wide awake. To my chagrin, I am one of those people. I flip through the channels aimlessly looking for a 'quick fix' or any form of inspiration at 2am. An inkling of 'false hope' that will satisfy me or get me through the night. After the economy took a DIVE, these infomercials bombarded prime time tv. They are on 24/7 selling their inane inventions for $5, $10, $20. Whatever it takes to rack up the numbers in sales! Naturally, I was annoyed at first! These F-in commercials should only be on when I'm drunk. What in Sally's name is going on here? Amazingly enough, the time change had an opposite effect on me. During late night these commercials seemed to inspire me. At prime time they did nothing but enrage me! Who the hell is buying this mass production of SHITE??!!!!

It started with the invention of Snuggies. What f#$king STONER or DRUNKARD came up with that idea? Have you ever stumbled out of a bar and put your coat on backwards? Or someone Else's coat on backwards. I have MANY friends that could be considered 'genius' by the simple act of stupidity, confusion or intoxication. Likewise, ever stumble into your bathroom in the middle of the night slightly disorientated? And realize your robe is on backwards? INSTANT BILLIONAIRE!!! Only difference b/w us and them...COMMITMENT!! Yes, they were committed to their ideas as ridiculous as they are!

Recently, I saw the MOST laughable, ridiculous, F-ed up invention I HAVE EVER SEEN!!! And, my personal favorite. Especially because I am a fitness instructor and personal trainer for the past 15-20 years. The 'Shake Weight!' A weight that you frantically, (pardon my french) 'jerk off' in effort to work out your triceps. I would be VERY disappointed if the 'master mind' behind this invention wasn't a woman! After all, this is what MOST, if not ALL women try to achieve while giving a 'handjob' by killing two birds with one stone. Please their man AND improve their triceps. It's the ONLY thing I can think of when I see a woman with well defined triceps...behind that woman there's a VERY HAPPY MAN!!!! So it is true behind that well adjusted man, there is a STRONG WOMAN!!! Again, only difference b/w us and that 'genius' is commitment at ANY COST!!!!

We have also become inundated with penis enlargements! We are obsessed with intrepid penis's. Really ladies? I have a very small vagina. In fact, I call her 'vaganita.' A very elegant and fragile name. If I see something that can physically rip me in half, at some point that becomes 'purely decorative' (that's exactly why I married an Irish man). I can twist it into animals shapes or place it over the mantel or EVEN throw it on the couch as another 'useless' pillow, BUT I'm not doing Lamaze to get the F'er in OR having a suzerain to get it back out again!!!

The one commercial that is by far played the MOST, is EXTENZ. What malevolent scientist came up with that invention or name for that matter?? We can pretty much guess how the name was conceived. He tried his pill to see if it works and he said: "This EXTENZ my dick!" Vuala! instant billionaire! And the commercials are SO unstoppably GAY!!! (not homosexual gay, HS gay). 'Making love is wonderful again....and the size? Well, that can be fun too!' 'Tearing up a twat...well that can be fun too!' The women on the commercial seem 'stepfordized' to anything going on around them. 'I like riding a horse...and the size? That can be fun too!!!!" I want to invent a rebuttal pill to extenz and I'll call it: "WE'RE ONLY HUMAN DAMMIT!"

So class what have we learned here today? Every 'genius' idea is spawned by drugs!! So, drugs are not bad! Not committing to your ideas while you're on drugs? A CRIME!!!!!!

Thursday, March 4, 2010

GREYHOUND: Deliverance on Wheels!

I had the unfortunate experience of traveling on Greyhound from Boston - NYC. I SWORE I would NEVER subject myself to the atrocities of Greyhound traveling EVER AGAIN! Like most promises i make to myself...i broke this one wide open. I get to the bus station and make my way to buy a ticket. I'm the only one in line except for the person in front of me. It seems the guy buying a ticket and the ticket seller ( a very chatty lady..diarrhea of the mouth infact..) have A LOT to talk about! SO much to talk about that i missed the next bus and had to wait for the 11:30am bus which was an hour away. In Boston's South Station that feels more like an eternity. So naturally, now im F'IN pissed! Bitch! And when i get up to the counter and say 'hello' she suddenly has 'lock jaw' and can't speak! Anyway, after purchasing my ticket i walked to my gate. I was in gate 3. The Gate line was already 1/2 full with 'better safe than sorry' ( and i do stress SORRY!) people eagerly 'marking their territory' lest they get stuck with an 'undesirable' seat which in my opinion emcompasses the whole bus. There they were an HOUR before departure as if it were black Friday or they were waiting on line for an American Idol audition! I was just jealous that i wasn't as comitted to the cause of finding an ideal seat! I refused to stand in line for that long, especially because i LOVE to wear 9" heels!

Approxiamately 1/2 an hour prior to departure I made an executive decision to join the 'group' out of fear that i may get stuck near the Greyhound bathroom, (which deserves it's own blog). I walked over to the line now 3/4's full and immediately was annoyed by the 'cheaters' in front who kept leaving their designated spots to go to McDonald or to buy coffee or to go to the bathroom several times...HOLD IT IN like the rest of us!!! The first and second person on line had formed an alliance. They took turns leaving 20 minutes at a time watching each other's stuff. I referred to them as the 'front line mafia.' I was fuming because ANYONE can have f_ _ _ ing someone watching their stuff and go for a massage! The point is you must 'suffer' for the privelege of being at the head of the line! Being first means you get to 'pick' the seat of your choice. And on Greyhound that is a HUGE perk!!! Exhausted already, I was wondering where the 'F-bomb' bus was??!! Finally is saw the abomination rolling into the gate. The bus driver got out of the bus looking exhausted, disheveled and in need of another 'meeting' before he starts hitting the crack pipe on our little road trip. Let's just say i NEVER feel entirley safe!!

I started to observe that the people in line were getting restless and antsy. Not in a 'i can't wait to get on the bus!' way but in an anxious way. As if, they were concerned that some last minute passenger with BIG BRASS one's may dethrone their front line status by cutting in front of the line. Everyone was on the defensive, especially the front-liners who had the most to lose. Well, true to their fear...I noticed an elderly man hobbling over with a cane and a enormous sense of entitlement. He was carrying a shopping bag with an exposed ticket laying on top. He was also talking to himself. He walked directly to the girl who was first on line and nonchalantly asked her to move her bags. He then proceeded to cut in front of her without any protest from her. She seemed caught off guard and didn't know how to react to this mans aggression. The second woman in line became VERY unnerved! She was a Jamaican woman and was NOT HAVING IT!!! She confronted the 'weak link' in front of her. "Why you let him cut in front of you girl?" The girl felt deeply ashamed and looked blankly at the Jamaican woman without a response. A few seconds later she redeemed herself and asked the man if he had a priority boarding pass? He responded 'yes.' Which i knew was a lie, and moments later he was exposed when the bus driver announced priority seating and he didn't budge!! The Jamaican woman glared at him. I tried to calm her down by explaining to her that (at the risk of sound indelicate), the man was NUTS!!!!! She looked at me and informed me that he was on a cell phone and quite sane. I tended to disagree, but who knows?!!

Upon entering the bus he courteously gestured for the girl in front to go first. He then tried to make his way behind her, but the Jamaican woman WASN'T HAVING IT!!!! He managed to squeeze in right after her cutting off a greasy little college student, who probably felt like he fulfilled his humanitarian requirement for the day. By the time I got on the bus I was sure i would be stuck near the 'shit stall.' To my surprise and delight the front seat was unoccupied. I was thrilled!! Because that was my preferential seat!!! I get car sick and am always in danger of vomiting all over the joint. Granted the bus already smelled like vomit mixed in with the faint smell of ass, but i didn't want to add to the stench! I couldn't believe how lucky I was ( born on the 13th..not a lucky number for me. Lucky for Johnny Cash if he says so....) I plopped my bags down to prevent anyone else from sitting next to me. I wanted to be alone! SCREW EVERYONE!!!! Anyway, just as i was about to sit down i noticed a foul odor. I smelled my arm pits to make sure it wasn't me. And it wasn't....i looked back and what did I see? The elderly man NOT on a cell phone BUT talking to himself. I WAS RIGHT!!!! I looked for the Jamaican woman so I could throw it in her face but she was ALL the way in the back sitting right near the 'shit stall' what was she thinking? In front for that? Clearly, she must had a weak bladder!!! Turns out he was schizophrenic and i had to listen to this mad man rave about the government and Barack Obama being the 'real' racist and there's going to be an investigation and something about Dukakis and JUST as I was about to turn around and tell him to SHUT THE "F" UP!!! he said a word 'pythonistic' and then on his own volition, explained it meant 'snake-like.' Like 'a snake in the grass.' I knew pythonistic meant 'snake like,' but i never heard it used before. It may not even be a word, but i could still use it! Anyhoo, long story short...I LIKED IT!!! I bailed on telling him to shut up, because I learned something. The bus driver was NOT HAVING IT!!! He was black and couldn't tolerate his vomit any longer!! Can't say I blamed him!!! HE was not only sick in the mind but had sick opinions! He ignored the bus driver after being told to shut up. It took a skinny white woman who looked like a librarian to shut him up! It reminded me of the scene from "Tommy Boy," when Tommy Boy was on his sail boat fighting with those punks and it took the girl to scare the crap out of them!

After he shut up it was awesome! I started looking around and observed other drivers on the road. I was disgusted to see that 90% of people LOVE to pick their noses while driving!! 85% of these people LOVE or feel compelled to actually eat it!!! Sick world!! My Greyhound excursion finally came to an end 'on time' no less. As soon as i exited the bus I VOWED NEVER TO GO GREYHOUND AGAIN!!! If I MUST take the bus i'm going FUNG WAH! Asians are clean and those buses go 90 miles an hour not to's only $20!!! NUFF SAID!!!