More Coffee Won't Help

Oceanside Oregon

2011-12-08T01:18:00.001Z

Chinatown San FranciscoPhto

2011-12-08T01:08:00.001Z

Mission Window

2011-12-08T01:01:00.002Z

Cherub of Monterey 2

2011-12-08T00:57:00.001Z

Cherub of Monterey 1

2011-12-08T00:56:00.001Z

Three Crosses

2011-12-08T00:54:00.001Z

Prayers

2011-12-08T00:52:00.001Z

Herald of Cypress Lawn

2011-12-08T00:49:00.001Z

Small but Mighty

2011-12-08T00:47:00.002Z

Tiny Angel

2011-12-08T00:46:00.001Z

Arch Angel

2011-12-08T00:44:00.000Z

Nature happens

2011-12-08T00:41:00.001Z

Louisiana Swamp

2011-12-08T00:36:00.001Z

Swinging

2011-12-08T00:32:00.002Z

Bryce Canyon

2011-12-08T00:32:00.000Z

Paris, Eiffel Tower

2011-12-08T00:31:00.000Z

Half Dome at Yosemite, from Glacier Point

2011-12-08T00:27:00.000Z

Monterey California

2011-12-08T00:23:00.000Z

Beaches are for running

2011-12-08T00:19:00.000Z

After the Concert

2011-12-08T00:14:00.000Z

Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco

2011-12-08T00:12:00.000Z

Angel with Rainbow Colors

2011-12-07T23:55:00.000Z

Rome Italy, Little Angel

2011-12-07T23:47:00.000Z

Ferris Wheel, Portland Oregon

2011-11-30T22:53:00.003Z

Special Kind of Flasher, Portland Oregon

2011-11-30T22:53:00.001Z

Cold winter telephone poles

2011-11-30T22:51:00.002Z

Railroad Bridge Perspective, Ridgefield Washington

2011-11-30T22:50:00.000Z

California Lighthouse

2011-11-30T22:47:00.002Z

San Francisco Noir

2011-11-30T22:46:00.002Z

Lake River Railroad Bridge, Ridgefield Washington

2011-11-30T22:45:00.002Z

Cold Columbia Gorge

2011-11-30T22:43:00.001Z

Eastern Washington Hills

2011-11-30T22:42:00.002Z

Newport Oregon, Crab Pots

2011-11-30T22:40:00.000Z

The most boring travel post in the world

2011-11-23T23:02:00.001Z

While in Spain I got a lot of questions of all sorts.

“Where did you go?”

“What did you see?”

“Where are the photos?”

I know its hard for you to believe that I didn’t do much of anything. I was there convalescing. I know convalescing seems like a strong word for a 39 year old woman with amazing hair and a sizeable shoe collection. But, that’s exactly what it was – I was there for some much needed rest.

My daily routine included;

Awake at 8am

Move dead arms from under sleeping dogs

Roll over carefully to not wake dogs

Lay in bed until 9am listening to very loud wildlife outside my window

Get out of bed

Make a very strong pot of French press coffee

Sit on porch in a an ensemble that included a fluffy robe, sunglasses, dog on lap, book in hand

Commence chain smoking

Consider shower before Noon

Change my mind

Eat yogurt over sink

Forget to take off sunglasses in the house

Go back to the porch

Commence chain smoking

Consider shower before 2pm, out of consideration for lovely host

Make lunch or eat ham from package, eat baguette of bread with cheese without slicing it. i.e. eat like a barbarian

Consider drinking adult beverage

Attempt to write something

Practice getting in and out of the hammock without falling down

Waste 2 hours on facebook

Feel extraordinary guilt, clean house, do laundry, dishes in dishwasher before lovely host comes home

Sit on porch all night

Discuss which bottle(S) of wine we’ll drink tonight

Commence chain smoking

Start drinking

Get tipsy

Take 3 vitamins

Brush teeth (sometimes)

Wash face (what a joke)

Go to bed

To answer most of your questions; no I didn’t see Sevilla or, Malaga or, Gibraltar. What I did do was sleep, host a dog in my lap all day and all night. Sleep. Drink wine, sleep, rest, get acquainted with my mattress, read A LOT. Not necessarily in that order.

This will be files under the most boring travel tale ever told.

Part 3. When in Rome, Find the Cemetery

2011-11-15T12:59:00.000Z

I’ve been in love with cemeteries since I was a child. I know it’s a little creepy but that’s just me. I used to roam the cemeteries in Ohio, Kentucky and Tennessee as a child. When things would get too loud or, too violent I would run for safety and for peace. I used to think work was my salvation, I could work my way through anything. When things get tough I work but, this last year I worked myself into a tougher, a more stressful and unbalanced life. I have to go view dead things to make it all better. Fucked up? A little but, that’s just me. A little fucked up but a whole lot of fun.

In Europe most cemeteries are placed outside of the city walls; maybe to avoid the rotten smell of corpses or the real reason to save space. I understand this is the sad reality, once your dead you have to get out of the city. The only problem it presents for me is when in Rome, it’s hard to fucking find the got’damn cemetery. There are more complications to this little situation;

a.) the tourists maps of Rome are generally wrong

b.) I can’t read a map

c.) I have no sense of direction – I mean for real, I don’t even know left from right

d.) I’m usually tipsy and think a map is a soduku puzzle

e.) I have no idea how to play soduku

f.) insert your own idea here (you’re probably right)

It took me two days to find this cemetery and I almost gave up. The first day I had my lovely traveling companion point it out on a map. She pointed here and here and I said, “awesome, see you around dinner time”. She being emotionally and physically able to do cool stuff in Rome like, take a bike ride through parts of the city most people never see. (I can’t ride a stationary bike without breaking a hip). About five hours later, a stop at McDonalds, a shoe store, a wine bar, a chocolate store, another wine bar and I found I had walked in a complete circle TWICE. 5 hours, 5 miles and, no fucking cemetery. I went back to the hotel and took up a prayer in front of the wine vending machine for the rest of the night. I nursed my sore feet, my tired calves and my battered ego with a bottle of wine and sent a few vulgar text messages until I was too drunk and too blind to spell.

The second day I awoke and somehow found the will to try again. Trying again is only my strong suit with hangovers. The reason I ran out of San Francisco was to turn over a new leaf, get my shit together and well, try again. Sore feet, a little broken spirit, try the fuck again. On this day I asked my lovely traveling companion to write street by street directions on a piece of paper. Because my lovely traveling companion is a genius she did an amazing job – google street map, check, turn right at the little Italian guy holding a machine gun next to the gelato stand, check.

I set out on my adventure, directions in hand, feeling good, feeling the sun on face. Unfortunately when in Rome the streets end for no reason; and we thought they were city planning geniuses. I was lost again. I stopped at the gelato stand, cried a little and thought about the sad state of affairs of my life. I thought about my destroyed relationship, the end of my fucking comedy show, how broke I am and wondered; how did I end up lost in Rome, looking for a fucking cemetery in new Italian leather boots. Yesterday I spent all the money I had on new boots.

I realized it was going to take more than a cemetery to save me. I found myself standing in front of the City College of Rome, right in front of the department for studying insane people or for insane people to become Psychologists – I don’t fully understand Italian. I can’t make shit like this up. I decided right then that I was going to find the mother fucking cemetery. It was now a personal mission to come out on the other side of something, anything and feel good about it.

I amused myself for another mile or ten making up translations for the Department of Insane at the college. I imagined stopping in for a Xanax and a drink. I imagined myself offering my brain up to science. It was hysterical in my head. Then I realized I was literally giggling out loud, bobbing my head left to right as I made up translations. Then I looked up and saw the Cemetery, the sun was beginning to set, the cool dusk air was beginning to settle in, I could hear mosquito’s buzzing around my ears and I laughed and laughed and laughed.

Standing on the edge of insanity and the entrance to the cemetery I laughed and laughed and laughed.

Rome, Put the fucking camera down. Pt 2

2011-11-09T12:36:00.000Z

We planned two guided tours for our week in Rome. I’m not talking about a tour guide with an American Flag tied around a stick waving it in the air, sort of private tour. Professional art historians were called in for our first private tour of the Colosseum and the Forum. The company is called Through Eternity and they will hook you up with a post-doctorate student who will give you more than you ever thought you needed to know.

We came out of this so much more enriched and informed than I ever could have imagined. There is a great deal to see and most of the time you have no idea which rock came from who or where it ended up. SPOILER ALERT! As each regime raped and pillaged the monuments from before..they pretty much all ended up in the Vatican. SURPRISE!

This is a super important thing to do, hire a guide who takes small groups and, listen. You will not be disappointed. We had no more than 5 in a group for each tour. A highlight was walking in the ruins of the house of the Vestal Virgins. Our tour guide Caterina asked a very pointed question; “what do you think are the qualities required for being selected as a vestal virgin?” I answered – “Not to be a whore”. Yay, I’m a winner! A smart ass and a winner. Something I learned about the Colosseum; they covered the floor in sand because after all the slaughtering - sand absorbed the blood best. How practical!! And yes, I said it out loud.

www.througheternity.com

Later that week another tour guide from Through Eternity Robert gave us tour of the Vatican museum. My friend and I appropriately and coincidentally dressed in all black to hide the scarlett letter "W"'s from the peering eyes of the Pope. People constantly asked if were sisters - we are not. Sorry to disappoint. I think its easier to say that were sisters, she being the blond curly hair blue-eyed half Italian sister I never knew I had and, I'm the redheaded brown eyed, Irish, insane sister, she wishes she never met. Either that or someone give me the translation for were just old and single, not lesbian. How sad.

The history lesson flowed seamlessly from Colosseum to Vatican – I suggest doing the tours in that order. You will feel like a Roman History Champion after you have finished. This tour focused mainly on the art in the Vatican museum, we spent very little time in the actual Vatican itself. As it was more of a showcase for Christianity and political power. We breezed through some of the most beautiful art in the world. We stopped an talked about Raphael for a while and focused on a painting that was supposed to invoke tranquility and peacefulness. Raphael liked to use a lot of floating cherub heads in his work and I agree Raphael – nothing says tranquil like floating baby heads.

Something you find when in Rome or any other highly tourist destination is a lot of people running around taking photographs. This is more so in Rome. As an amateur photographer, I sometimes forget to restrain myself, I forget to appreciate the moment in front of me. This is true with most of us throughout our lives – we forget to appreciate because we are so focused on consuming the moment.

Let me explain. I stood in front of Michelangelo’s Pieta; arguably one of the most beautiful pieces of art in the history of art. I watched a blonde girl no more than 17 years old, casually walk up to the bullet proof glass, hold up her camera and snap a photo. Then, she walked away. She didn’t take two minutes to consider this work, she didn’t take 30 seconds and imagine herself in the presence of this work, she didn’t take 10 seconds to consider her life against one of the most beautiful objects ever created by the hand of a human. The three of us talked about this considerably, we are a world of consumption and proof. We are no longer able to appreciate it, we have forgotten… we are as a group the most ungrateful self-important assholes. I watched as a man walked through the Sistine Chapel and never took his face off of his camcorder. His only goal was proof that he was there. He will probably never re-watch that video but if someone asks him if he’s traveled I’m sure he will boast of his proof. And yes, you shouldn’t have your camera out in the Sistine Chapel, its actually prohibited fuck-face. I wanted to punch him in the eye.

You can no longer enjoy the art in the Sistine Chapel, you have to hurriedly move ahead lest you get bumped by a tourist, a tour guide or have to listen to some inaccurate fact filled speech from the asshole next to you who just wants someone to move so he can get the shot right. We really need to take a step back and put the fucking camera’s down. I know you know this but, here I am again telling you to shut up. The noise level in the Sistine Chapel was louder than the voices in my head. THAT'S REALLY LOUD and, I know how loud those voices can be. Its supposed to be a place of reflection, tranquility and, lots of floating baby heads.

I did not take as many photos as I could have. I really did take this time in Rome to imbed myself in the culture, the people and, the language. I wanted to experience it in my skin, in my head and carry this visit in my heart. This could well be the some of the most important moments in my life.

I took the time to get lost and I got lost often, I always found my way back no matter how far off track I was. By the way, the tourist maps suck in Rome, buy a guide book. TRUST ME!

Next up:

Oh yes she did, Chantel found a cemetery

How to spend all the money you have in the world on Shoes.

Rome, I finally ate something - Pt. 1

2011-11-07T17:07:00.000Z

After the great airlift of 39, I found myself in Spain. I call it the great airlift because it was executed with military precision. The Crash of 38 turned into The Great Airlift of 39. One year and a few months after my nervous system started breaking down. Almost 4 years to the day of meeting my boyfriend. I depart, we depart – hasta la vista. Sad but true. Let's eat.

I arrived in Spain and I slept, and I slept some more and then, slept some more. I woke up after a couple of days and my friend informed me that we were going to Rome for a week. Imagine my excitement; the squeals of joy could only be drowned out by the sound of my snoring. Not that I wasn’t excited or happy but DUDE, I’m so tired the only way I can express excitement is walking upright and mispronouncing “Thank You” in seven different languages. Where was I? and, Who am I again? Oh and, What day is this? This is the only way to describe this type of exhaustion.

We leave for Rome on a particularly stormy morning where I have to sit on an airplane with a serious case of wet jean syndrome. I was too tired to complain about it. Dude, I’m going to Rome – I would go with a constant state of wet butt and not complain about it ever again. That’s just how I express my gratitude. Have wet ass? My sign reads, ‘If its Rome - Will travel without complaint.’

My friend is an amazing researcher and planner. So much so that I didn’t have to worry about where we were going or where we were eating. Food and sites were researched and planned out before my arrival. My job was to show up, bring a camera and eat my weight in pasta. Which at the time was hovering around 127 pounds. I did my job well, I went, I ate, I walked and, walked and, walked and, walked some more.

Eating was planned as a local’s only experience. All of our food was consumed from the Lazio region most of the wine we drank including the wine from the vending machine of the hotel was from the Lazio region. Yes that’s right my friends they serve wine in vending machines. A mother fucking vending machine full of wine. We stayed at the IQ hotel on Via Firenze close to the Opera house. A very clean hotel with a bountiful breakfast buffet available for $10. It is very modern but it is very nice for the price. You won’t get the quaint Roma Hotel experience, you get a semi-uncomfortable bed, a very clean room, a lovely roof-top deck for resting for a good price. Now, back to the food.

Enoteca nel cuore di Roma at the Foro Traiano – I really did eat an entire plate of pork loin. The most amazing pork loin I have ever eaten in my life. All four of us had something different which included a plate of octopus pressed and sliced paper thin served in a beautiful presentation; a work of art prepared at the restaurant that day. Everything is local and delicious. If you tell them I sent you they won’t care. Just don’t act like an American and ask for Ranch Dressing. Live dangerously, eat well and, you won’t be disappointed.

Urbana 47 – Another restaurant that focuses on simple local food from the Lazio region. It was my first meal in Rome. It will be remembered for an amazing price fixe selection. Right now they’re boasting the best burger in Rome. Skip it, order something you can’t pronounce correctly, point haphazardly and make gestures at the waiter. He may laugh but you won’t care after you’re done. This was also the first and the last time I wandered out into the night in 4 inch heels. http://www.urbana47.it/en/menu/

Antica Enoteca – Via della Croce, Close to the Spanish Steps and a recommendation from our Vatican Tour Guide. A tourist location without the tourist food. We invited Robert to join us for a late lunch and we sat and talked about his travels, our travels and my desire to stay in Europe indefinitely. A funny side note; he suggested I go to the docks and “offer my services” as a cheap way to travel. I imagined myself in Red High Heels prostituting myself around the world on boats. I don’t think he meant it that way but that’s the only way it could have been interpreted. “Hello Boys” He meant cook on a boat, I laughed and laughed and laughed; until my food arrived. Then I shut up and considered my employment options more seriously. Its mushroom season in Italy and I tried to eat all of them. I had a ravioli di Carne with Mushroom sauce. That day’s special was a fettuccini pasta gingerly tossed in a bit of olive oil minimal garlic finished with white truffles shaved over the top while you watch. Another side note: I apparently have some difficulty digesting mushrooms – apparently mushrooms cause gas. Welcome to Rome.

www.anticaenoteca.com

Food tips:

Always always always order the special of the day.

Always order an anti-pasta plate. It sets you up perfectly for a beautiful meal and will acquaint you well with the local cheese and meats produced in the region.

Drink lots and lots of wine. I mean it, don’t skimp – get tipsy, walk past the Trevi Fountain, throw a coin in, don’t’ lean into it or you will fall in.

Don’t act like an American – cheap is just going to get you a bowl of pasta with tomato sauce thrown on it. Look for something out of the way, plan ahead.

Upcoming Rome:

Tour Guides R Us
A visit to a cemetery
How to spend all of your money on shoes

Photos and more from Rome

Heaping piles of shit

2011-11-01T10:56:00.001Z

Oh this blog has suffered. I will tell you its because I’ve been busy for three got’damn years. Living in San Francisco is not for the faint of heart or for the broke. Three years of non-stop work led me into a complete nervous breakdown. I’m not talking the metaphorical sense either. Sure, tough as I am one would think that I could handle a bit of hard work but, actually I’ve been working that hard since the day I was born. At 38 years of age – or 39, I can’t really remember how old I am – I was finished.

The last year I can only describe as piles of shit. Piles of shit that went through many diagnoses. After developing horrendous food allergies that caused painful hives on my face no less which then developed into eating exclusively, bananas. Another diagnosis a stress condition which, seemed appropriate until a doctor suggested I take six months of solid bed rest. Bed rest can only be achieved when one is financially independent. Financial independence is not achieved when you work in a restaurant for a wage that doesn’t even pay the rent on a cardboard box and, run a comedy show that makes barely enough to keep fresh bananas in the house.

Internet research only caused me more stress. More stress was caused every time my boyfriend would say, “that’s not what’s wrong with you”. So on and so forth. More stress, more hives, complete immobilizing exhaustion, depression, emotional instability with a side of uncontrollable rage and then finally, pneumonia and then the ultimate – crippling mother fucking depression.

I tried therapy, I tried hugging my dog, I tried a creative outlet – I even tried my favorite solution; pounding my head with my forefinger, also known as “thinking my way out of this”. This solution inducing an already twitchy eye into a wobbly, vertigo induced headache.

Many of my older readers would ask, “what happened to drinking and pill taking?” I lost my tolerance for alcohol and narcotics. I just couldn’t find the time for a bottle a night and 2 xanax when you work as hard and as many hours as I did. Without the added addition of 2 bottles of wine each evening and a loaf of bread and an entire wheel of cheese, I dropped to a constant string of compliment inducing 127 pounds. I used to say that on a 5’10 inch woman this is frightening. Unfortunately I’m aging and I’ve started shrinking – so I’m 5’9” and still my pants were falling down. Not as frightening but I can’t afford a new wardrobe. So I left town.

Through the generosity and planning skills of a very nice friend, within 48 hours of my smoke signaled SOS, I was on a plane - a plane to Southern Spain. No, I don’t speak Spanish – a travesty I know (fuck off). But I didn’t come here to learn the language or wander through the streets working on my accent. I’m holed up in a nice little house with high-walls, drinking at noon and, drifting from a heart wrenching book to more light-hearted New Yorker articles whenever my PTSD starts to kick-in and drives me to murderous rage. My rage usually aimed at the loud birds that I can’t identify because, I could give a shit what populates the skies in Southern Spain. These birds are assholes. Sometimes I yell at them to remind them that I’m here and I came for peace and fucking quiet. Sometimes they abide by my requests and sometimes they shit from the sky as to remind me that Mother Nature is not to be fucked with.

Once more, I’m five blocks from the beach. I had grand plans of going to the ocean each day for a little swim. However, Mother Nature and I are squabbling – or I’m lazy – or I’m exhausted. I’ve left the house twice. Both times I got lost, both times resulted in what could only be described as a death march in flip flops. Both times I was too tired to try and figure out how to buy a bottle of water. So fuck the ocean, I’m on the porch – chain smoking.

I’ve been here a few weeks, storing up words in my fingers. I’ve got stories, I hope you have time because this blog is about to turn into a big heaping pile of shit.

Enjoy

Chantel returning to Blogger

2011-08-01T21:59:00.000Z

Hopefully in a few short hours I will have my blog back up and running on Blogger. Life is getting simpler!

How Steve Jobs can teach Sarah Palin how to Lead a Nation

2011-06-03T15:06:00.000Z

Dear Sarah Palin

You’re out on the road in your stealth bus trying to spread a message, like Jesus or the Rolling Stones we can’t quite tell yet. And you’re not telling either. You’ve been on the road a mere few weeks and you’ve accomplished shoving your foot down your mouth so proficiently. I’m going to clear a few things up for you; since it is clear you don’t feel the need to surround yourself with people smarter that you are, read (ADVISORS).

Today’s gem about Paul Revere and the Freedom Ride was a classic example of leaving out details so that you change the story. In our entire Constitution the right to take up ARMS are only mentioned once. We did not start a playground fight with the Monarchy so we could kill Bambi with semi-automatic rifles. There were a lot of things involved in that little skirmish that left us alone on this vast continent in a little place we like to call the United Stated of America. ‘Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader’ comes to mind right now. The Fifth grade is the time I made a beautiful hand-made 3D diorama of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. This is when I learned about America’s fight for freedom. This is when I learned that Paul Revere was not concerned about the British taking our guns; he was informing everyone to grab their guns because the British were actually coming to kill America’s future founding fathers and then force taxes and indentured servitude upon us. There were also those little details about escaping persecution and, religious freedom and, taxes but, I’m assuming you knew about that and chose to not disclose it in your interpretation because it might detract from your argument. I’m not sure what your argument is right now but I’m sure I’ll find out soon.

You’re always yelling about the LIBERAL media. Why is this? You claim that the LIBERAL media twists the facts to create stories. Do you realize that the left and the right do this equally and offensively? You work for a news organization right now, you know this more than anyone. Media on both sides no longer report facts and, they do it LIBERALLY. All media is liberal media, these days and now you are part of it. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em? I’m sure that’s what you were thinking when you joined the staff. I love how you’ve been hired by a media organization while you were still undecided about running for president, so that this media organization can pay for you to run around the country, in a bus, with your family, with a giant American Flag on the side of it, with no intended purpose. Talk about twisting policy to suite your agenda.

The entire time you have been in the political mainstream you’ve pointed fingers, made accusations and, placed blame. Sweatheart, you are your own worst enemy. As a would-be leader of the free world do you think it’s time your hate tirade should turn to joining the multiplying sides of our country together? All of the leaders of this country understand that we will have multiple viewpoints and we need to somehow dissect all of those viewpoints into policy making decisions that make attempts to suit all of us, across the board. We look to our leaders to find ways to join us together, we look to our leaders to try and understand us and our viewpoint from our very different backgrounds, belief systems and lifestyle choices.

You’re a maverick and you’re not part of the boys club in the Whitehouse, you’re different? So you settle on plain talk, outdated, old-fashioned and, mis-guided attempts to talk to Joe Public. I don’t know if you realize that Joe Public is not very smart. You only have to look to our top rated television progams and, our obsession with all Apple products to understand American’s. Apple can release a new iPad and we will stand in a line, in the cold, around the block, to buy one. We will subjugate ourselves for Apple products. I won’t even subjugate myself to my boyfriend and I used to love him. Maybe you should ask Steve Jobs how he united a Nation, he could give you some tips on what it took to get one nation, indivisible under Apple. I know it’s taking me a long time to get to the point – recognize? We want our leaders to be SMARTER than us. We expect you to know things that we don’t. We want you to talk to us like Leaders do, not like a Mother or, a Moose hunter or like Jessica Simpson. Be eloquent, be well-read, be able to take an abstract thought and distill it into an anecdote that all of us understand and all of us can get behind. We need you to act like someone who has done that, seen things and, is still able to keep control of your own email account at the same time. I know it’s a lot to ask but you DO want to be president someday don’t you?

Do you know how bad I want a woman president? Do you know how bad WOMEN want a female in the White House? You’re making us look bad, you’ve set the women’s movement backward. We aren’t all Mama Grizzlies, we want freedom for our ovaries, we know that abstinence doesn’t work and, we need you to understand that, we want policies that provide us with freedom, safety and equality. You need to act and speak like the smart, capable woman I know you are. We are done having dummy’s in the White House you should know that by now.

Park your bus lady, stop taking a paycheck from a LIBERAL media organization and state your purpose or, you can simply go back home and tell your grand-children about the famous Freedom Ride with Paul Revere as your husband shines his double barrel shot-gun next to the crackling fire.

Welcome to America cupcake

Its good for America; Donald Trump doesn’t want to be president any longer.

2011-05-19T15:30:00.000Z

I’m sure Donald Trump accomplished several goals in his short presidential bid. He achieved the highest level of attention. Wouldn’t you consider being the butt of THE joke at a prestigious dinner where the president chided you on your bandwagoning platform, a success? Or, is it better to get coverage from every major news outlet in the world? Yes dear Trump, the world is watching. You’re television ratings went up; people recognize your name, your products and, your companies even more than ever. In fact your name has never “not” been in the news. You’ve accomplished a lot in your life; made and lost millions. Why would you consider the level of embarrassment that you running for president would cause our political system? You've had affairs, you've coined a catchphrase, "you're fired", you've made a nation of stylists drool at the thought of fixing your hair.

Unfortunately I’m embarrassed for our country more days than not. Over the past few years our culture has disintegrated into a hyped up, misinformed country of “report it now, pay for it later” consumers. As a group we’re no longer interested in our realities, we’re interested in our escape and others downfall. Welcome to America; we’re here to build you up and then bring you back down to our level. If it takes going through your garbage, following you at all hours of the day and, shaming you publicly until you break or until you put on 10 pounds so the public can feel better about themselves. We just want to break you and then make you feel horrible about every little thing you’ve ever done wrong. Think about the vitriol that our news outlets spew 24 hours a day. We consume, we asked for it and now this is what you get. You got Donald Trump running for president.

I’m embarrassed because we refuse to take responsibility on a personal level for our own lives. But yet, Perez Hilton is on his way to getting very very rich by shaming celebrities. Shame for infidelity, shame for not paying taxes, shame for gaining weight, shame for drinking too much. Shame, Shame, Shame. Glen Beck recently took a PSA for cancer by Meghan McCain and turned it into an opportunity to gain more fame by calling her fat and commenting on her appearance. I’m sure he unapologetically went to bed that night and slept well. I read the comments on the news sites to see how readers felt. Guess what, they didn’t just side with Beck – they supported it. Of course he has free speech and of course you do too. But just what made you think you were adding anything to a conversation about decency by adding, “she’s in the public eye, she needs to grow thicker skin”? Honestly, Glen Beck should be shamed out of journalism by OTHER journalists. You want to the respect of your colleagues? Start weeding out the hacks in your field. Stop watching, turn off the show, don’t buy the product, don’t call for a public apology. Money talks, bullshit walks. Stop buying the product and it will stop bothering you. I don’t want an apology from anyone except my parents. They’re the ones that fucked me over. What do I want from Beck, Trump, Gingrich, Bush, Sheen, Snooki, Lohan and, all the other bullshit television personalities distracting us from our lives? I want them to go the fuck away.

I’m embarrassed to be an American because in the days when we have to deal with a crippling economy, human rights for gays, rights for my own ovaries, judgment day, stem cell research and, religious freedom among a few of the very critical issues facing our society; we’re spending a lot of money on polls to decide if Donald Trump would or could be our next American President. That is a no brainer America. Pull your head out of your ass, the end is near.

The Debate About Your Body Continues

2011-02-25T12:32:00.000Z

So kids, this is a great argument in favor or getting the government out of the doctor's office and protecting the little rights we have left. I'm begging you to please write to your representative, make Video's, update your facebook status, Twitter something. Do anything to stop the current attack on women by the GOP. I can guarantee you it will only get worse if we let the government tell us what we can and cannot do in our Doctor's Offices. I'm saying, no taxation without representation and then you tell me what your god and government has to say.

I cannot tell you how much I love her

2011-02-10T17:53:00.000Z

No one's watching - Now, let's make abortion illegal HR3 is a scam

2011-02-03T19:00:00.000Z

I've been a little beside myself these last few days. Egypt is exploding, our economy is still in the gutter, Gay's can't get married and, the weather around the world is conspiring to collectively end life on earth. Beside my own problems of being sick with no health insurance, surviving January the slowest month in comedy show history at Wharf Room Comedy and the never ending cycle of being broke, broke, broke. Add to the list the new bill introduced HR3 that is supposedly about re-defining forcible rape.

Politico reports that the outcry from women's rights groups — and their supporters, presumably — led Republicans to back away from the phrase "forcible rape" in HR3, also known as the "No Taxpayer Funding For Abortion Act.

"The word forcible will be replaced with the original language from theHyde Amendment," Jeff Sagnip, spokesman for bill sponsor Chris Smith (R-N.J.), said. One senior GOP aide told Huddle it's a no-brainer to get rid of the modifier. "Such a removal would be a good idea, since last I checked, rape by definition is non-consensual," the aide said.

Don't look now, but we're making this better by changing the language not the restriction or penalty. Don't treat me like i'm stupid.

I'm sorry to say that this is another sneaky attempt to make abortion illegal while we're not looking. This bill has nothing to do with your safety as a women or prosecution of rapists. The bill is not so discreetly designed to restrict health care to women. Again, I stand by my belief that my body should not be governed by anyone except me. Again, I stand by my belief that if a woman is raped in this country she is victimized again and again by our laws, our media and our own socially programmed belief's that she was somehow to blame. Again, I'm infuriated that we aren't picketing the White House and sending a great deal more letters to our representatives. Once more is that those people who don't have any reason so seek out an abortion do not know that they will be penalized financially by HR3 should their health insurance carrier offer abortion as part of their benefits.

As Steph Sterling, Director of Government Relations at the National Women's Law Center writes,

The bill would also impose tax penalties on individuals and small businesses with insurance plans that include abortion....If your insurance plan covers abortion – even if you never knew it, and even if you never used it – you could face a tax penalty. Depending on what kinds of tax benefits you're eligible for, it could be substantial.

...Right now, a woman who makes $25,000 is eligible to deduct any amount over $1,875 she spends on health expenses, including her insurance premiums, from her taxable income. If H.R. 3 were enacted and her health insurance plan includes coverage of abortion, she would lose a $1,731 deduction. More than 7.5 million families claim this particular medical expense deductions-and each of them would lose the deduction if their plan covers abortion.

The concern is that the natural market reaction of insurance providers would be to stop covering abortion altogether, making it even harder for women to access the care they need.

Read more: http://jezebel.com/5750825/republicans-give-up-on-forcible-rape-but-bill-still-sucks#ixzz1CwUef2Kq

I've never asked that the government pay for my reproductive health but, I do ask that the government get out of my vagina. I'm appalled at any government representative thinking I'm so stupid and so distracted that I wouldn't notice if you put another law on the books governing my right to choose. I'm horrified that they have the balls to think that they are writing this law on the back of rape victims. How dare you treat my like I'm stupid and how dare you penalize those who've already been victimized.

I'm angry that this bill will affect those american's who already are struggling. This bill restricts every persons choice in America when it comes to health insurance. Not only are they going after your tax breaks they are going after what's left of our health care choices. If your health care provider offers abortion as part of your coverage then YOU lose your tax breaks, your insurance carrier loses their tax breaks and health insurance premiums rise to higher levels. Get it? Before this law the government pay-out for publicly funded abortion was minimal - after this law, everyone America will suffer. Think I'm wrong -- sit back and let it happen and watch as our health care system gets worse. Sit back and let the government tell you where you can seek out health care. The fall-out from this bill would be catastrophic.

Imagine the audacity of the government hoping your not watching, don't let this happen. Stop HR3 before its too late. The supporters of HR3 are counting on your ignorance to push this through.

From Savannah, She Glows

2011-01-27T02:49:00.000Z

[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="640" caption="Savannah Georgia"][/caption]

Snowed In!

2010-12-27T19:58:00.000Z

We made it to Dr. B's parents house. We stayed ahead of the weather enough to see a little sun, the beautiful Smokey Mountains dusted with snow and still survive. Once we arrived at the Parental Homestead we finally relaxed. We relaxed enough to spend our entire time sleeping with small field trips out of doors in between.

It snowed quite a bit the day after Christmas; we handled it well. We got drunk, built a snowman, ate some ham and apple crisp and then went back to sleep; not necessarily in that order.

Luna has been somewhat enjoying the time out of the car. I'm not sure if this is her first significant snow but she enjoyed it to the point of hurting herself. Dogs are like 3 year old children; while she shivered she refused to come inside to warm up. As if I ever told her that she would never see the outside again; what kind of dog parent am I?

She did however hurt her feet with the cold snow.

The pathetic cuteness that is my dog with hurt paws led to a snowy trip outside of the PH to go shoe shopping. Not the kind of shopping that yields beautiful and unaffordable high heels for me but, sensible comfortable shoes for the DOG!

What are you doing for New Year?

2010-12-10T18:48:00.000Z

I only have a handful of shows left for 2010. So if you're in San Francisco and you're looking for a great show come down to Fisherman's Wharf.

My schedule is:
Friday December 10, 8PM - Wharf Room Comedy

Tuesday - Friday, December 14-17, 8PM - Wharf Room Comedy

Then the fun begins. For the holiday's this year Dr. B and I planned a 3 week road trip. That's 3 weeks in a car with Dr b and a dog. I anticipate there will be lots of conversations and your general fighting. I will get irritated and call him an ass on many occasions. He will spend a great deal of time repeating the same puns and punchlines because he will forget that's he's said it one gazillion times before. Which is when I get frustrated and tell him to shut up. Only because I get so tired of hearing him pontificate the reasons people decide to live in small town A, remote location B and, depressing city C.

I will get frustrated because Luna will fart constantly which will stink up the car. Dr. B will take this as a cue to start farting himself. I again will get frustrated and give him a 20 minute lecture on how to act like a considerate human. He will make fun of me and then I start smoking pot and be stoned through 3 states where I'll make him stop at Church's Chicken repeatedly to get me through the munchies.

We will argue about the following:
His constant speeding
Him pontificating a contrary opinion to every thing I say even if I'm right
Allowing the dog to ride in his lap while he's driving
Renting a hotel room with bullet holes in the doors
His views on legalizing prostitution
Why I think Insane Clown Posse is an abomination

This is just a start.

Happy Holiday's everyone!

Good Stuff, Help a documentary get made today!

2010-11-16T20:26:00.000Z

An old blog friend of mine has been successfully building a career as a documentary film maker. Her next project is based in Wales and we're asking you to help it get made.

Click to Contribute to Mum's Not In!

Mali is a 6 yr old girl who wants nothing more than to please her mum. Single mum Cath, however, barely notices Mali in her struggle to pay the bills and keep it together. Mali finally finds someone that can love her back, but when the landlord comes knocking on the door, the day takes a tragic turn.

Shooting on S16mm, Mum aspires to a grainy, visceral look that references the British photographers Chris Killip, Richard Billingham and Martin Parr, and the great British documentary from 1935 “Housing Problems”.

Setting the film in North Wales is especially significant because the region has one of the highest rates of child poverty in the UK.

WHERE YOUR DONATION WILL GO

All donations will be used to cover production costs. Equipment rentals, production design and costume, animal wrangler, transport, developing costs, food for cast and crew.

Thanks everyone!!

Hecklers NEVER HELP: Video's

2010-11-13T14:57:00.000Z

In response to my last post where a heckler almost ruined my show. In case you're wondering; NO YOU'RE NOT HELPING!! Please, shut up! PLEASE, SHUT UP! I did specifically look for videos that were male and female hecklers. However, it took a really LONG time.

And the legendary clip from a local San Francisco Comedian Joe Klocek, proves that hecklers are the least funny people on the planet.

Why you got kicked out of my show last night

2010-11-12T14:24:00.000Z

The sign on the door reads, “NO HECKLING, Please Respect Our Performers.” The host, 3 comics and an audience 40 people deep applaud loudly whenever someone asks you to SHUT UP. And you are the victim, the one who stormed out yelling profanties and threatening to beat up the FAT FUCK at the door.

Every time a new comedian came on stage you wanted to talk about your entire life story. You couldn’t just take a joke at face value and then let everyone move on to the next premise and the next punchline. You commented on every one, you offered advice for every joke premise. You attempted to council and correct every comic when their jokes did not follow your ideaology or, your LOGIC. That’s me giving you the benefit of the doubt.

The last straw is when you threw a drink at a comic who was merely defending himself on stage. When you’re talking and arguing with someone on stage we can no longer be comics. We are forced to defend ourselves, our choices, our life goals. Each comic who went on stage last night is there trying to make a dream come true in 6 minute increments. You made it very hard to a person to work on their dream, you interrupted them, you bullied them - YOU made them question every decision they ever made in their life.

No one ever gets away with the shit that people try to get away with in comedy clubs. Would you get away with that behavior in a theater production? Would you talk and argue the script with the actors while they’re on stage performing? Where do you get to throw things at people and still be considered helpful and a good audience member? You were celebrating your birthday and “WE ruined it”? We were celebrating laughter for 40 people of which, 4 of those people were celebrating major life milestones and, you ruined that for them. You still thought you were right when an entire audience applauded as you were asked to leave. Lack of self-awareness much?

I run an informal club on the 2nd floor of a restaurant. This is what I do for a living, I’m the expert on this one and you fucked up. I do not believe the customer is always right and I never have. Sometimes the customer is just a bitch. You proved that in every way. I’ve had to kick people out for this before; its always a woman. Two glasses of chardonnay suddenly makes you self-important, easily offended and, unable to sit quietly and enjoy something that is supposed to be fun. In the 2 years I’ve been running my non-important comedy club and performing 5-7 nights a week around San Francisco, its always a woman. What do they put in the chardonnay?

Many will argue that this is my perspective. My perspective includes video. I have video of you talking through every comic, every comic asking you to be quiet, me asking you to be quiet. I have proof that you are in fact, an asshole. I bet you sat at home in your victim chair going over how many ways you can get even with us for ruining your birthday. Just so you know we sat at home last night wondering what we could have done to prevent having to throw you out. We questioned our methods, we questioned our comebacks, we lost sleep. I bet you never even considered what you could have done to stop the catastrophe. I hope that keeps you warm at night.

I had to write an email this morning to the owners of a restaurant. They could cancel my show. They could say to me, “Hey Chantel, we don’t like the risk of having comedy in our establishment.” THEY COULD CANCEL MY SHOW. If they cancel my show then a few hundred comics lose valuable stage time. They lose a place to practice their art, they lose a place that provided them with an opportunity for exposure and an opportunity to get to the next level of their field. I only lose my income, I lose my job; I only lose hope. Thanks for putting that in jeopardy, because of you I lost sleep last night and I wondered why the fuck did I decide to become a comedian.

Because of you I went to McDonald's last night and emotionally ate my way through an evening. Because of you I ate a McRib. Thanks, it was delicious.

When you go on vacation

2010-10-26T17:09:00.000Z

We're leaving for a little trip. We've been to Key West before but, we love it at Halloween because there is a giant festival. I get weird when I have to travel. A small bit of travel anxiety that I'm sure I've told you about before. What do I do to get over my anxiety? I look at pictures from our last trip and remember how much fun we had.

What type of things will I see this time?

A playboy and his bunny fighting in an alley?

Meet Presidential Candidates?

Actual crocodiles crossing the road?

A family of chickens crossing the road to this little shack for the best Key Lime Pie I've ever had?

Who knows what will happen.

Greatest Hit's - Fear of Commitment Final Chapter

2010-10-13T14:26:00.000Z

Chantel learns the world is her oyster the hard way

This is very long but, thank God, this is the last chapter!

I tired of playing baseball and my knees began to hurt from the dancing in 4 inch heals; I found myself at a cross roads. I released all of my players from the baseball team. Someone from my group suggested I get a boyfriend. I took this as more of a challenge than a suggestion and started dating seriously. I tried all the internet dating sites and found myself sitting across from men who were ready to marry and have children or, unemployed drummers and sometimes sexually confused metro-sexuals. After a few months of that scene I grew annoyed. I received a confusing email composed from someone whom English was obviously not their first language. I consulted with the girls and decided I would go on my final date. If this one didn’t work out, I would officially call it quits on the internet dating front.

Just in case he turned out to be an idiot I suggested a short meeting at a bar close to my house; that way I could get drunk and walk home by myself. As you can tell when all else fails in my life I turn to cocktails which always turns out to be comforting. I walked across the street to the bar and saw a very tall man fighting with an innocent newspaper box. He had obviously tripped over it on his way to the bar and was struggling to set it upright. I laughed hysterically and asked him his name; of course it was my date. Tall and goofy just like I like ‘em. I was sold from the very first time I saw him stumbling all over himself on the curb in front of the bar.

He had a French accent, a big nose and brown hair. I struggled at first to understand him beneath his accent but after a few beers I found I was speaking a strange combination of French and English; exactly like his. The whole time we were together no one could quite understand what he said except me. I translated for him wherever we went, especially with my friends who mused at my new found ability to talk to foreigners and understand the verbally inept. Yeah that’s me; a friend to those who cannot speak any English whatsoever.

H’ was from Switzerland and he was in the banking industry, all very cliché. He wasn’t what you would expect from Switzerland; he was outgoing, friendly, funny and always up for a night out on the town. I think he really liked America. The romantic gestures were over the top and I was swept off of my ex-white trash feet. I went into this relationship with my eyes wide open and an innocence I have never felt before in my life. He surprised me with trips to the theater which he couldn’t understand because the script was in English. He spent hundreds of dollars on dinners several nights a week which usually included oysters; the guy drove me crazy with the oysters. Then he left his stinky cheese in my refrigerator. You know its true love when a Swiss guy leaves his cheese at your house. Every day we spent together I had no idea that I could actually be so happy with another person.

Five months later H’ got a call from his work; he was being transferred to London and had to leave within the week. There were no words for either of us. He delivered the news carefully and with tears in his eyes. I didn’t cry, I quietly kept my feelings to myself. After I left that night I called him and asked him what would happen to us and our relationship, he said that we would make it work, "dees, eez why God invents ze' plane." He left within the week, he made many promises but, I slowly resigned myself to never seeing him again. Before he left he upgraded my computer, I had a web camera and high-speed internet so we could have video chats while I was working on my school work or hanging out around my house.

After he left I learned to keep busy. I went back to school, I started writing again, I took up bicycling, running and continued my wine and cheese education. It wasn’t long before he e-mailed me a ticket to London. Of course I was shocked, I never thought for a moment that I would get to go to Europe so soon. I knew that some day I would go but I didn’t know it would be within my 30^th birthday.

I will say before I go on; my friends never really quite warmed to my new love. They knew I was in over my head and one of my best girlfriends the now Mrs. C. went toe-to-toe with him in a bar before he left. One of the most heartwarming moments in my life was watching as my five foot eight inch friend walked up to my six foot seven inch boyfriend looked up and pointed her finger at his big nose for a half an hour defending my honor. H’ spent the rest of the time we were together proving that he truly loved me; every move he made he followed it up with “Mrs. C. will truly know I love only you”.

I went to London and H’ met me at the terminal. The reunion was something raunchy romance novels are made of. We caught a plane to France and I ate snails, got drunk and taught H’ the waltz up the Rue de la Madeleine. We took a train to Italy and I rediscovered my love of photography and olive oil and then finally traveled under the Alps where I found out what all the fuss was about. I ate the best cheese I’ve ever had in my life, climbed a glacier and then ate croque madame at the top of Mont Fort after breakfast champagne with his mother. We couldn’t go to Mont Blanc because we were both chain smoking whilst shooting kirsch. Really the best time of my life. The parting was bitter-sweet but I never realized how much fun I had until after the photo’s were developed and all the xanax wore off. I expected that would be the last time I saw him.

I was back home and dove back into my studies. My head was swirling with dreams of the future and H’ did nothing to stop me. He fed my dreams when we would surf the internet together on video chat and pick out houses in Southern France. Of course I wanted to live in Paris so we surfed apartments for sale to soothe my need for city living. Soon Christmas had arrived and I was picking up H’ from the airport in Portland. Our time together was quiet and less a production than it had been before. I felt like we had actually settled into a comfort zone together and we no longer needed grand productions to continue to prove our love to one another. Christmas came and he presented me with a diamond heart pendant and professed his love while my children ripped open their gifts in front of our Christmas tree.

Two of my best girlfriends had moved to Ireland for the year so our next trip was to Ireland to see Mrs. C and Ms. T. H’ was convinced that this would prove his love to Mrs. C. Never again would she question our relationship or his loyalty to me. We went to Ireland to my Motherland. We surprised Mrs. C on a Thanksgiving weekend who had no idea that I was flying from the West coast of the US to Ireland just for the weekend to see her and Ms. T with H’. I spent 72 hours in a pub; I scared the Irish with my ability to drink whisky and Guinness; one day the four of us spent a total of 16 hours drinking and my best friend Ms. T threw up all over the front of him. By the second day I had completely bonded with my Motherland, I even developed some sort of Irish accent, although my friends couldn’t understand the words that were coming out of my mouth; H’ had to begin to translate for me.

The next few months were spent planning our next vacation. Me in Portland, H’ in London and we were surfing the internet for white beaches, lounge chairs and icy drinks with long straws. We decided on Mexico. No grand tours, just a long lounge on a beach so we both could recuperate from our hectic lives. I spent the next two months planning outfits, losing weight and testing the best self-tanners on the market just so I would look fabulous for my love. I can still smell the beach in the Mexico, I can still taste the water and I can still feel how my skin feels under a humid sun covered in the most expensive sunblock I could find.

H’ flew home with me and quickly said good-bye after a couple of days. We talked seriously once we got home and I asked him if he had remained true to me and he asked me if I had remained true to him; we both answered yes. I asked him if he thought that I, my life and, us is what he truly wanted; he said yes. The next day as I left him in the airport, I felt what I could never admit. I felt it the whole time we were in Mexico, something had changed. As I walked away I knew it would be the last time I would ever see him again.

Two weeks went by and, his emails to me dwindled and my emails to him were never answered. He failed to log into our chat program and we rarely talked about my next trip. When he left we were planning on meeting in Paris. I had saved enough money for the trip because I didn’t want him paying for another trip for me; I felt like I really needed to do this for myself and for us. Another two weeks went by and I was out of my head; I had not heard from him at all. I began to panic and finally emailed his brother whom I knew just briefly. Within an hour I received an email from H’. He explained that he was with someone else, living with her and asked me not to hate him. I didn’t reply or I don’t think I did; I really don’t remember very much for the next few days.

I called Mrs. C. who offered to be on the next plane from Ireland. I told her to stay where she was; I dug my own hole, I knew what I was getting into and I knew what the outcome would be. I found myself standing over the Clackamas River the next day throwing rocks at the water hoping to shatter the surface of the river. I felt shattered and I wanted someone else to hurt as much as me. I drove home, I went back to work and I returned to school; I didn’t miss a beat. I never have missed a beat my entire life and I wasn’t going to start.

I booked a ticket to Paris the next week. I booked my hotel in Paris and within a month I had packed my bags, my camera my French language book and left. I wandered the street of Paris purposely avoiding all the sites where we went. I rode the metro and roamed the cemeteries taking photographs. I’ve always found cemeteries to be the most comforting environment when I’m hurt. I spent most of my childhood roaming cemeteries in Ohio and Tennessee; I flew half way around the world to feel comforted by the dead. I wasn’t dead, I knew it.

I had my morning coffee by myself, I ate my lunch in small parks all over the city and every afternoon I would buy the last tarte l’citron from the bakery, travel by metro to the Eiffel Tower and drink a bottle of wine while I waited for the lights to come on. I photographed 22 rolls of film, I had an affair with the concierge in my hotel and I got on with my life. I went home and placed the diamond pendant in a box next to the other from a previous lover; there they remain. I can never thank my best friend Ms. T. enough for having the foresight to throw up on him in Ireland but at least one of us had the opportunity. I'm not so innocent anymore.

So here is where you find me today. I haven’t dated much in over three years yet, I find myself hesitant but hopeful, no longer innocent but the anger has faded. I’m happy and grateful because I know for certain the world is my very own oyster as long as I have some Xanax.

Drink count
1 bottle of French White wine

Greatest Hits, Fear of Commitment, Pt. 6

2010-10-13T14:19:00.000Z

A girl reinvents herself and, How to play baseball

Suddenly my children are older and getting a life. They're off to their fathers house most weekends and I realize I have to quit sitting by the window waiting for them to pull up on Sunday night. They’re always sweet and inquire about my boring weekends. My answer was always the same, “not much but, I missed you a lot!”

I met a group of girls who eventually become my best friends. The first time in my life I can say I have a group of girlfriends and probably the first time in my life I’ve ever felt like I had real friends. Our get togethers went like this; 5:00 happy hour, dinner at a new restaurant which ended at 3:00 am in a club downtown and then asleep on a couch in one of the four corners of our city. Needless to say I suddenly let loose and quickly got a life.

After a month or two I kept finding phone numbers with boys names scribbled on napkins, matchbooks, the inside of my arm, on the back of a cab receipt and various other places. I would often meet with the girls at happy hour or over email during work hours the next day to re-construct my evening with questions like; “do you remember him?” “what did he look like?” Answered with; “yeah he was cute but short or, he wasn’t disgusting.”

I knew I wasn’t ready for a relationship; I was having way too much fun to settle down. I started dating casually but not necessarily in the hopes of meeting Mr. Right, basically Mr. GoodEnoughForNow would have been just fine.

How a serial monogamist turns into the owner of a baseball team

I never saw anything wrong with dating multiple people as long as everyone knew the score. The score was this; I was the coach and we played by my rules the instant you break the rules you’re off the team. Rules subject to change whenever I felt like it.

Boys came in these categories;

First base (this is the guy you could get through an entire dinner with and consider seeing again)

Second base (dancing and drinks only)

Third base (dancing only and must be hot)

Designated hitter (you call this guy for any occasion – he’s just as big a player as you and you both know it)

Pitcher (cute but might be clingy)

Catcher (booty call when all else fails)

Outfield (I haven’t had to hit the outfield often but they usually consisted of a guy who from out of town who called when he passed through, always optional)

The rules:

I’m the coach this is my team you can always quit if you don’t like the rules.

You may not stay at my house past 1 cup of coffee; an invite for breakfast does not make you my boyfriend.

If you don’t return my call in a reasonable period of time I will make other plans.

You must like my friends or at least pretend like you do; I don't care what you think.

If you see me out with my children you may come say “Hi” otherwise, keep your distance.

If you pressure me for commitment, you’re fired.

Don’t expect me to be available whenever you call because if I don’t call you I’m probably not available.

Always act like a gentleman or, you’re fired.

Don’t come to my house unannounced or, you’re fired.

I didn’t use these guys just in case you were wondering. I paid my own way and took them out to dinner, bought my own drinks and paid my own cover charge. In that case I knew I could eat where I wanted to eat and no one could ever say I owed them anything at the end of the night. This was my game and I was making the rules. This is how I got the nick-name, “juggles wigglesworth”. I had the time of my life for about a year or so. I dated, I played and I lost a lot of weight dancing. Next to that time when I had the flu and my mother died it was the best diet I ever had.

It wasn’t long before my girls were finding love and making plans for the future. I was there when two of my friends met their future husbands. For one I was dancing in a cage suspended over the dance floor when she brought him over to introduce him and, for the other being accused of participating in scandalous behavior; three words away from a bar fight. During this time I started making stuff up stories to tell my children about what I did while they were away. The details of my life wasn't fit for young virgin ears. I adopted a standard answer accompanied by a long pause, "I was knitting."

As in most lives and friendships, change and evolution are required to sustain the relationship. The four of us found our lives evolving; over time we were shooting pool until 1 am, making sure none of us were driving too drunk, which eventually turned into barbeques in our backyards and good-byes beginning around 10 pm. We’ve grown, we’ve changed and we’ve done it together. I don’t regret or apologize for anything I’ve done; it’s the feminist in me waving my middle finger behind me as I ride off into the sunset on my own horse. I don’t play baseball anymore.

Drink Count:
½ bottle Robert Mondovi, I’M a Rose

Greatest Hits - Fear of Commitment Pt. 5

2010-10-07T15:38:00.000Z

"The King of Fannin Land" and the redemption of man

Another long hiatus from men and dating and I find myself at a club. I was self-conscious; trying to figure out what a mother was doing in a dance club on a Friday night. I ordered a drink and looked around for my friend who seemed to have stood me up; he was the door guy at the club and he was determined to get me out of my self-imposed exile. He showed and quickly disappeared to go quell a potential argument. A moment later a man stood next to me at the end of the bar and ordered a drink. Blond hair and blue eyes; not my type I thought to myself.

I left to go to the bathroom and when I returned I found this gentleman had stolen my ashtray. Of course I took this moment to polish my rusty flirting skills. Little did I know that his were just as rusty as mine. (We still argue about this fact; I swear it was me that picked him up but he says it was him that picked me up.) Since this is my story; I’m the one who picked him up. Later in the evening he told me he was celebrating his divorce which was final that very day. I made a mental note that this guy might end up crying by the end of the night and agreed to hang out with him in case he needed a shoulder.

Of course we were attracted to each other or else this wouldn't be in my story. My need for no drama and his need for comfort fit very well. Our relationship was filled with romantic gestures and kind compliments. He introduced me to nice restaurants, wine and quiet Sunday mornings. He spent time thinking of things to show me and places to take me. We both spent time thinking of nice things to do for one another and when there was conflict (which happened rarely) we took careful measures to walk cautiously and consider our words carefully. The relationship was comfortable, sweet and yes, I believe we were in love.

I changed in that time – I learned that love was not supposed to be ridiculous and maybe my stomach wasn’t supposed to hurt all the time. A quiet love was just what the doctor ordered.

He tried to teach me how to snowboard. I was terrible and spent the entire day falling. I fell from the top of Mt. Hood to the bottom of Mt. Hood twice in one day. On the way home that night he had troubles getting his Jeep out of 4 wheel drive; as we drove down the mountain his transfer case slowly heated up, smoked, turned white hot and eventually melted from the inside out. On the side of a darkened road he freaked, I diagnosed his car problems and called a tow truck. At the time I knew the number of every tow service in the area by heart; because I was working for a repair shop at the time. He continued to freak out about his car and I told him I loved him for the first time on the side of the road. He calmed down and I bought him a cup of coffee while we waited. All of our adventures ended up a disaster. However all of our disastrous adventures turned out to be a story we eventually laughed about over dinner a few nights later.

A year after I began to notice that my sweet love was disenchanted with his life here. While we were no less enchanted with each other; his work, his finances and, the weather here began to weigh on him. The weight of a depressed lover is too hard to carry but, I tried to carry it. He deserved my support and I had big enough shoulders for both of us. He began to look for a new job in hopes of lifting his own spirits and broadening his horizons. I walked into his office sometime early February and he announced that he would be flying to California for a job interview. Very calmly but briskly I turned and walked out of his office and went home; no words exchanged. I had no wind left in my lungs and my stomach began to hurt. The pain I recognized; the pain of insecurity, the pain of abandonment and an unsure future.

Soon after Valentines Day came and went he presented me with a beautiful diamond heart pendant and a card professing his never ending love. He told me he accepted the job and would be moving away very soon. No where in his announcement was an invitation for me; I noticed its absence and it stung. Maybe I was his brick. My only thoughts were how my love wasn’t enough to make up for the dark clouds that cover this city so many months out of the year. A few short months afterward I drove a long silent drive with him to Los Angeles while he dealt with food poisoning, dropped him off and, I flew home.

There was no discussion, no fighting and no begging. I thought about begging him to stay and I thought about stomping my feet and fighting. I knew that to stop someone from fulfilling their potential was unfair. If he did stay because of that type of manipulation he would eventually grow to resent me and unrealized potential is the biggest regret any human could ever live with. I was quiet and I was supportive; inside I was on fire and trying to figure out what my life would be like without him.

He moved, I drank gin and I cried into my pillow. Eventually the phone calls died down and the e-mails failed to show up. I realized/he realized it was time for it to be over. I cried a little more for a year or so, and drank a lot more gin. I could have lived in the comfort of that love forever but, as we would have been comforted we both would remain unrealized as individuals in our life together.

I got a new job, I moved into the city and I made new friends. My reinvention began, yet again. Comfortable yet unrealized wasn't our fate. I don't drink gin anymore.

Drink Count:
1 Pilsner Urquell
1 Bottle of Australian Sauvignon Blanc

Greatest Hit's - Fear of Commitment Pt. 4

2010-10-05T16:50:00.000Z

The J and two mistakes

I’ve noticed something about myself. I don’t like telling the stories that tell. I don’t like shedding my skin and letting you peek in unless I lend your experience a humorous caveat. Or maybe I don’t like to admit I have emotions and I can be hurt. This time more or less, I hurt myself.

I met J while I was working one of my three jobs; this job just happened to be cooking in a bowling alley. If you’ve ever seen the movie “Arthur”he asks his butler what he thinks of Liza Minnelli, the butler answers “she looks like the kind of woman you would meet in a bowling alley”. That was me at the time. A year after my divorce from O and I shack up with the first guy who pays any attention to me.

I swore that I would find someone different from O; someone without a drug problem, someone with some hobbies and someone who sought more out of life than their next bong hit. I think back; I think a bong hit would have done J some good. The relationship started fast and soon we were moving in together. There wasn’t any fan faire, no romantic gestures; just a settling. J had found the hood ornament he had always wanted in me and two children to adore him while he was at it.

J loved my children. He was wonderful to them. He lived for them; he hated me. J was an alcoholic. Not the type of alcoholic I was used to being around; he just drank beer from sun up to sun down. He would get aggressive verbally but not too much that another beer couldn’t calm down. Oh I forgot the best part; he cheated on me constantly.

J was stuck in his youth. He never dreamed for anything outside of the little town that he grew up in, he still imagined he had long David Cassidy hair, he listened to the same music (we went to see AC/DC 4 times) and he still owned a 1972 Chevrolet Camaro SS. 20 years later; he had very little hair, a yellow ranch style house with white shudders and a rose garden and realized that 35K a year wasn’t really that much money. But he still was basically happy; as long as he had my children and I kept my mouth shut.

A month after we bought the house I got into a car accident. I found the first reason to postpone the wedding we were planning. All J talked about was the money that “we” were going to get. He rarely acknowledged my injuries or my constant pain. He bought me a dishwasher so I didn’t have to spend so much time in the kitchen washing dishes after cooking him dinner. According to J, I was a very lucky woman to have someone like him who would take me in and love my children as much as he did. He told everyone how lucky I was. Soon after my doctor decided I was depressed and prescribed prozac to help. J decided I was now crazy; all of his girlfriends were crazy.

I put off the wedding again. I learned I cared about little except for what was on television and making sure J had enough beer in the fridge. I kept taking the prozac. One night or one that wasn’t different from any other, J drank too much beer. He called me a stupid bitch; I knocked him out. I don’t actually remember hitting him but I do remember a flood of red and then standing over him as he rolled around on the ground. I told him it wasn’t for calling me a bitch; it was for calling me stupid. I took a prozac.

A month later I was in the kitchen J was putting the kids to bed. I lit a candle, he started screaming and backed me into a corner. I don’t remember what happened next. J was on the floor again. My son told me last year that he saw what actually happened; he swears J smacked me. I truly don’t remember, it was the second time. J would always forget that I was a competetive bowler that threw a 16 pound bowling ball three times a week for 4 hours at at time. Knocking him out was as easy as blowing out a candle. I took more prozac.

On New years eve 1995 I came home from work planning to make snacks for a party and make sure there was plenty of beer for J. I found J in the bedroom hugging the shower curtain and the towel rack from the bathroom. I found him by following the vomit stains through the house. He rallied and attended the party in full swinging J fashion. The party ended with him screaming at me. The last thing J ever said to me in that house; “you don’t even know your children, you’re just the incubator – I take care of them better than you ever will”. I flushed the prozac.

J left the next morning for golf. I rented a moving truck. I took only my children’s furniture and my pots and pans for cooking. J didn’t cook for himself or do his own dishes; I knew his sister would come do it for him. I moved away that day – it only took me two hours. I left my second hand engagement ring on the counter in the kitchen right next to the dishwasher. He didn’t know I knew that he had bought that ring from a guy at the bar – but I did.

After my divorce I decided to never tear another person apart with my words again. I kept my word and J ran over me like a train. My children hated me because they didn’t understand why I took them away from the man they considered their father. They are older now and I knew if I let them stay he would do the same to them that he did to me. They were fun for J because they weren’t thinking for themselves yet. I couldn’t imagine anyone treating my children the way he treated me.
Everyone thinks I’m afraid of J but, I’m not. I was more afraid of what I allowed someone to turn me into. I can’t add up the amount of money I lost the day I left. I lost my house, my investment, my furniture, my friends and my financial security. I’ve never been so broke and I’ve never been happier in my life.

I don't bowl any more.

Drink count:
3 Vodka Soda’s
½ bottle Pinot Grigio

It Get's Better

2010-10-01T18:40:00.000Z

I'm posting all the video's and blog links I can find to help spread awareness for teens. Let's get together and talk about bullying Gay, Lesbian, Bi & Transgender teens. Let's help these kids find a safe place. I'll ask that all of you who do the same. Speak out against bullying, teach your children that bullying has a life-long affect and dire consequences.

MTV Shows

it gets better from Yodel T. Machine on Vimeo.

Ellen Degeneres
http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=592846987806&ref=mf

Dave Navarro
http://6767.com/2010/09/29/an-open-letter-to-gay-bi-transgender-teens/

Greatest Hits - Fear of Commitment Pt. 3

2010-09-30T16:05:00.000Z

All about O - pt. 2

(Que up Donna Summer, She Works Hard for the Money)

Marriage was interesting at best. Strange how responsibilities and worries can turn the happiest of couples into raging bulls. O’s helplessness was the start of my disdain for him. He begged me to get up at five in the morning and make him fried eggs and potatoes; he could never find his socks or keys and often left the dishwasher open. All of which I found and/or tripped over at 5 am. I am not a morning person.

More importantly he worked, he ate and he slept. Sobering up for O was difficult. I understand the hit to the ego; one day you’re a big popular fish in a small pond of Piranhas and then, you're making pizza at Round Table.

In a very short time after Ms. Puddin was born we got our own place and I was diagnosed as “no longer on the verge of a total breakdown” and, went back to work. Over time cars would turn up spontaneously wrecked. Whole entire axles were broken and windows were smashed. Over time Ms. Puddin who used to wait until her Daddy came home to put her to sleep began to fall asleep in my lap, waiting. Over time O and I screamed at each other, checks began to bounce all over town and I turned into a vicious representation of a bad wife. The things I yelled and the insults I hurdled I can never take back. It took me 10 years to apologize to him for the one thing I knew I did very well; I can fight verbally almost as good as I can fight with my fists.

Over time O would disappear for days. Over time I got tired again and realized that I did not want this life. I wanted more and for the first time I knew I deserved more.

I asked O after a three day bender; the fifth wrecked car and, $3,000 in bad checks; he had to choose Me, Ms. Puddin and the baby I carried in my belly or cocaine. He thought about it, he said he would love us forever and walked out the door.

Married June 23, 1990

Daughter: December 19, 1990
He left sometime in late October, 1991
Son: May 25, 1992
Divorce: June 23, 1993

An update on O.

O battled drug addiction for over ten years. He went from pot to acid to cocaine to methamphetamine and finally to heroin. His children, our children came to me four years ago and told me that their Dad was in trouble and begged me to help him. I found him in a car sleeping because he was trying to detox on his own. I offered him my house; I listened as he cried and writhed in pain until it was gone out of his system for two weeks. I watched him thank his children for their interference. I will continue to watch him grow into a good father.

Drink count:

3 vodka, soda & lime

Imminent Loss

2010-09-29T18:08:00.000Z

A few days ago my sister texted me to get a cup of coffee; she would be calling me soon. The news was not surprising but indeed it was sad. My Brother lay dying in a hospital in San Antonio. Alone, with dimensia and a host of other ailments; nothing is to be done but wait. My brother is 40. He was born into a world he did not ask for and dealt with this world with a drugs and alcohol addiction. This addiction came early in life and will take him to his death.

A few years ago my sister and I traveled to Texas to visit him for one of his hospital stays after his pancreas gave up on him. We were met with an emaciated man in the body where my brother used to be. He was combative and hostile. Hostile because we asked him to stop destroying himself, hostile because we could not have imagined his life without getting high or getting drunk day after day after day.

Our demons are similar. But our fight, our inner struggle to survive is what separated us. We were both present during our childhood, we were both abused during our upbringing, we both watched as my mother chased her demons with drugs and alcohol and men. We were both devastated when my mother passed at the age of 52 after a lifetime of hopelessness.

I have no judgement for those who struggle with addiction. I have only sympathy and hope. There is no hope for my brother because even if he recovers from this round, he will still find himself in the hospital again because he cannot keep himself from trying to quiet the noise that fills his head. I've watched, I've hoped and, I've said my good-byes - to my mother, to my father and soon, to my brother.

The passing of Greg Giraldo today made me sad and made me revisit all of the emotions of loss. The things I remember of my mother and my brother is their laughs and their smiles. Its not the bad times I think about or, the repeated interventions; it was their humor. As I sit in wait for the call that my brother has passed I remember his giggle.

As I remember Greg Giraldo I remember how I looked up to him as an outstanding comic with integrity and the ability to make me laugh uncontrollably. I only remember the nice things people say about him. I never met him personally but he was one of my favorite comics and will be remembered as one of the greatest comics of our generation.

I'm not ready to deal with the imminent loss of my brother. Today I'll be sad for someone else. I'll just have to think about that tomorrow.

Greatest Hits - Fear of Commitment Pt. 2

2010-09-24T16:34:00.000Z

All about O. Part 1. & Some really bad music choices

(You can hear Deliverance playing in the background.)

I met him on July 3rd. The small town of 1,600 where I lived always held Independence Day celebrations throughout the week. I spent the entire year before-hand planning for the one night where they put on a “Street Dance.” My evil step-father had died two weeks before and my family was slowly creeping out of the house accepting their new found freedom with much trepidation. I was a tall girl and way to skinny. I had been very sick for the entire year and only begun to eat again right before my step-father died. I was experimenting with make-up and clothing; free to no longer wear things that made me look like an Amish girl walking down the middle of the street in summer as demanded by my Step-father.

(Queue up Def Leppard)

O walked up to me and asked me to dance. Never before in my life had anyone ever paid attention to me; especially a boy that beautiful. Because I had never had a boyfriend I didn’t know if I had a “type”. My type turned out to be tall, dark and devilishly charming. I’m telling you he was H-O-T. Little did I know before he walked over to me he had told his friends five minutes before that he was going to marry me. Five hours later he and I were sitting in my living room passing a bong around with my mother and brother; O asked my mother for permission to marry me.

Up until this time I spent my life working, going to school, cleaning house, paying bills and taking care of my two young sisters and my mother. My mother had recently been fired from her job for stealing and now spent all of her time lying around the house or out with her new boyfriend. O was a welcome relief from my heavy life. He entertained me; he doted on me and never let anyone treat me with disrespect or unkindness.

We drank
We did drugs
We went to concerts
We drove my car too fast
There is no drug and no alcohol that could ever beat being 17 and in love.

Every day I was told that I was beautiful, smart and perfect. O was the first person to ever tell me he loved me. He rarely left my side except for when I went to school and he went to score drugs. O was a cocaine addict and I didn’t know. How could a girl from the streets and so much experience with junkies not know her boyfriend was shooting up cocaine without her knowledge? Some times I asked myself that same question.

(Que up Every Rose Has It's Thorn - Poison)

A year later O’s behavior was out of control. I was tired from my hectic schedule. Work, drugs, school and family were becoming difficult to balance. O confessed his cocaine problem as our friends started dying in “accidents” or getting arrested. O agreed to go to treatment before we married; I agreed to leave my mothers house and rest. Everyone knew but me that I was close to having a nervous breakdown. I don’t remember much about those two months except for I slept a lot. I was put in contact with a Psychologist who officially diagnosed me as; “on the verge of a total breakdown”. My mother had recently been jailed for her behavior and my little sisters were left to fend for themselves. I will never forgive myself for abandoning them. I will never forgive myself for not waiting a month to have a breakdown because they needed me more.

(Any Post-Treatment Metallica song would work here)

O was released from treatment 75 pounds heavier but, for the first time in a very long time sober and happy. I could always live with or without drugs - I could only take a little at a time anyway. Like I've reminded ya'll before; I'm a drinker not a druggie.

A month later I announced I was pregnant; everyone cheered except for me. I was a Senior in high school and I didn’t want to quit just because everyone said I had too. I didn’t quit. I kept my job for a while and continued to balance complete pregnancy sickness, school and a heavy psychiatry schedule. Eventually I had to quit working. It isn’t very easy to work in a restaurant when every smell on the planet made me throw up. THIS CONTINUED FOR NINE MONTHS. I graduated on June 12, 1990; we were married on June 23rd, 1990. You just can’t keep a crazy girl down.

This is getting long and it’s starting to sound a like a CBS after-school special.

To be continued...

Drink count:

One vodka martini

Two Vodka, soda w/lime

1 glass of wine

Greatest Hits - Fear of Commitment Pt. 1

2010-09-22T15:45:00.000Z

This series of posts are from April 2006 - it starts to explain a few things. If you're confused its OK, because life is confusing and full of contradictions. At some point in your life, you have to find some peace with that. One thing it explains is fear is overwhelming and paralyzing at the same time.

............................

My friends and I often discuss my rampant fear of commitment. More or less because my love life amuses them; especially when I invent nick-names for men I date in an effort to distance myself from them as potential mates and/or being human at all;

“Flock-of-Seagulls, The Lab Rat, International Man of Mystery, The Min-Min, Wigglesworth and Jail-Bait.”

You get the picture?

I’ve kept myself busy and single for the most part because I didn’t think it was fair to bring someone into my life when they would have to “compete for my time.” I put that in quotes because that is exactly the phrase a guy I was dating once used on me after the 100th time I cancelled plans with him in order to; do homework, play with my kids or get some sleep. I usually broke the dates to watch a movie by myself or drink copious amounts of wine with my girl-friends. I always feel safe with them. I don't have to wear extra make-up or say anything intelligent or even wear deodorant around them. Isn't that heart-warming when your best girl-friends turn out to be the loves of your life.

A lot of time in therapy has given me the perspective I need to understand the reasons or excuses I invent to stay single and distant. My favorite argument is my childhood. A junkie mother leaves a mark on a girl. A junkie mother who repeatedly (like five times) marries equally addicted husbands with a side of abusive leave an even deeper mark. I watched my mother disappear at the brutal hands of the men she chose. I made a promise that I would never let that happen again. An eight-year old girls promise to herself are promises that should never be broken. I’ve kept this promise except for one occasion.

A hint of advice: If you ever want to find out what you truly want in life, try and think about the things you dreamt about when you were eight.

My next favorite argument is my fierce independence. You will find more and more women these days raising their hands to proclaim their independence. Not that I/we don’t want a man it’s just that men and relationships are often more trouble than they are worth. As if declaring my need for another individual would somehow cause the local chapter of the feminist watchdog group to tear up my feminist membership card. It's really because I often feel more calm and more at ease when I am single. I'm productive as hell when I'm single and, my insecurities rarely rear their ugly head. Yes, I’m insecure; it’s discreetly overshadowed by the appearance of extreme self-confidence and self-deprecating sense of humor.

Why would anyone want to put themselves through this over and over again? You find a space where you're happy with yourself. You're for all intensive purposes happy and alone. Then again why do I have to continually look backward - why do I continually make the same poor choices over and over again? Will I ever learn that love for all intensive purposes is not what I thought is was. It's like a washing machine with a random spin cycle; it rings you out without notice and leaves your crumpled and wet at the bottom of a cold metal bucket. Over and over again? Add to it the fact that I'm a single mother who does not want any more children at the age of 33; you'll find half of the dating pool immediately diminishes.

My third favorite argument is the nature of the male vs. the female. Before Christianity men and women led lives almost independent of each other. Women spent most of their time living in groups and raising their children in a village-like setting where, all women shared the burden of child rearing. The men were rarely present and they spent much of their time hunting or protecting their tribe. This is the argument I like to use after six cocktails; a drunken pseudo-intellectual argument about the history of man always spells F-U-N.

In order of appearance the major relationships in my life;
My ex-husband (my first boyfriend, first everything else and father of my two children)
J (the biggest mistake of my entire life; I almost married him)
SDF (sweet love affair riddled with silent reflection and no brutal truths)
H (the best mistake I ever made) and,
HEB (current love-limbo contestant)

Funny; I can count my most significant relationships on one hand. I can’t say that about the (insert long pause) short-term or insignificant relationships. I don’t know why I chose to write about this now I guess it’s because I really would like to make some decisions in my life and if I pour them out here I can make sense of myself and my never ending need to make really bad decisions. Golly, you’re in for a long ride.

Drink Count:
2 Coronas
Popping the cork on a lovely Pinot right now

Greatest Hit's, January 2006

2010-09-19T09:16:00.000Z

Over the years and evolution of this blog some of my older and more popular stuff has been lost'ish. I'm reposting to get it back into the current archives so I can quit worrying about it. This one is from January 2006 stemming from a conversation that started about men and turned into cars. Funny how that happened.

...............

My children have abandoned me. This is normal during the summer. I raised them to be independent and now they call and let me know that they’re going to their Grandparents or their Aunts or someplace that is more fun, warmer, or where they might make some money. It’s an exciting Monday night; I decide to clean the inside of the microwave, play with my Rubick’s cube and think about converting my OS to Linux.

Make emergency call to Ms. T.

She shows up just in time to save me from surfing message boards for Linux information carrying, alcohol and the second season of Entourage. I now love Entourage or I’m bored; either way if Jeremy Piven were taller he would be my boyfriend unless you ask Ms. T.

Ms. T. “You need to date someone older. More experienced, someone who won’t sideswipe you with the whole, I want kids thing a year into a relationship.”

Me. “I did date someone older once, remember the guy from Seattle? What was wrong with that?”

“Duh, you didn’t hear from him again after your Mother died.”

“Oh yeah, I’m so used to them disappearing I don’t even notice anymore.”

“Do you think we are just here to find our one true love?”

“God I hope not, I’ve had like five and I’m only 33. If so I’m so fucked. I think you just keep trying until you find that person that fits. You said it best; I’ll know when I can find that person who can put up with my shit.”

“So you do think that there is only one person for everybody?”

“No dude, how many cars have you had?”

“I don’t know two or three.”

“They fit for that time right?”

“Yes.”

“Relationships are like that. They lose a little something once you drive them off the lot but then you get the seat all worn in and you understand it’s different purring, humming and revving noises. Every now and then it breaks down and you have to decide if its worth fixing or consider getting a new one.”

“Chantel, how many cars have you had in your life?”

"Are we talking cars or men here?”

“Cars!”

“Oh, like 20. Yeah I’m fucked. I love cars like I love men.”
"Yeah, remember that time when you bought a new car because the tags expired."

"Good point."

Drink count: Shared bottle Alsace

No more angrier words were written

2010-09-11T18:44:00.000Z

Mr. Charles Bukowski, The Genius of the Crowd

there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading bookds
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art

It was really hard

2010-09-10T14:36:00.000Z

This was my surprise birthday cake from Dr. B. No my birthday party was not a surprise but that cake sure was. "That thing scares me and I'm a whore."

Another Day Older and Deeper in Debt

2010-09-09T14:03:00.000Z

I had no idea there was a "Go Go" version of this song when I looked for this video on You Tube this morning. Its also the song that was playing in my head when I woke up. It's my birthday you see and I guess everyone has a birthday song. This is mine.

However there are a few things that make my world spin on its axis every day. I'm going to to tell them Thank you because its the only reason I get out of bed every day. Thank you is all that I can say. Because, words will never express the gratitude I feel for the love that I feel day after day.

Dr. B is the most shameless, uninhibited person I know. His life is dedicated to having fun and making sure I have fun. Just this morning when my daughter gave me a beautiful pearl necklace for my birthday Dr. Brian leaned over and said, "i'm gonna give you one of those for your birthday too!". I know it was too early and I know it was inappropriate but, it made me laugh. He makes me laugh and sometimes laughter happens when its very, very inappropriate. Thank you for loving me.

Mr. Bug & Ms. Puddin. Having children grow into adults is probably one of the toughest moments for a Mother. I'm no longer allowed to rescue them and tell them what to do. I'm only allowed to offer advice and hope that it helps. These two children willingly and graciously allowed me to be their mom. They've are beautiful humans that have offered me unconditional love and support from the day that they could perceive such emotions. I wake every day and make wishes for them. Thank you for loving me unconditionally even though I know, it's never been easy.

Anakule. You stepped in when I needed a mother. Even though I've stood by the assumption that I need no one. I'm aloof, I'm closed off and I'm tough to get to. But you stood there until I left an opening. You still do and I'm grateful. You have made me a better human. Thank you for loving me unconditionally.

Luna. I know you're Man's best friend and, I have to compete with Brian. Your little face and your giant ears and your non-stop begging and your smile. You have a smile, I see it all the time. You feel love, I feel it when you convince me to go to bed every night and snuggle until you wake me with your whining to go pee. It's amazing how loved an animal can make you feel. Thank you for loving me because you make every morning better with your bright eyes, your wet nose and non-stop kisses.

Another day older and deeper in debt. No complaints here.

Jumping Pics Will Save The World

2010-09-07T15:59:00.000Z

I'm not as spontaneous as you might think. However when I was standing in Death Valley on the dunes I told Dr. B to wait and take a picture. It was a picture of me jumping. I used to be a good jumper when I played sports and was in shape. However I'm older now and jumping isn't something I do on a regular basis. For a split second I thought of my blog friend, Alex and her Jumping Pics Will Save The World blog. this is what happened. Please go visit Alex's blog. Don't forget to smile when you jump.

Funny how the first attempt was the best attempt.

The second was a little weak.

While this one didn't feel weak, it certainly looked "special".

In the car, out of the car

2010-09-03T14:10:00.000Z

Since Dr. B was laid off again we've had to cut back. Cut back on vacations is actually more like it. Which means that all trips now include camping. Its true I hate to camp. I have no desire to get in touch with nature that way. Here's a short explanation. When Dr. B asked, "would you just love to sell everything and live in a car?" I reminded him that I used to live in a car, I used to camp out every single night of my life. I've roughed it, I survived and I have no need to do it to myself again. However, when your cute daughter and persuasive boyfriend smile and promise to take care of you......

Here's a short pictorial of our recent camping trip through some very beautiful and very dangerous country.

Yosemite Valley Meadow, 2010

Yosemite is one of the most beautiful, contradictory places I've ever seen. Abundant beauty is nestled in one of the harshest mountain ranges in the United States. I realized this even more when my daughter woke up the next morning to let me know that a bear came to visit her in the middle of the night. I put together two and two and remembered, that was probably the moment Luna wedged herself under the covers and "wufed" silently. What I realized even more the next morning is that Puddin' left a piece of garbage in the fire pit. This helpful, kind bear returned it to its original owner and left a note. "Don't litter, this is my house."

Luna, 2010

What we've also learned is that Luna likes to stay in the car. The wilderness is not for her. She also likes to give directions and drink only bottled water. She also doesn't like the desert. It is here that we confirmed her desire to be fanned at all times and draped with a cool wet towel when the temperature reaches above 80 degrees.

Andrea likes it!

This is what Andrea looks like when she's camping. Except when a bear comes by her tent or, in the middle of Death Valley on a dark night and she's found her tent door was left open for an unidentifiable amount of time. Then she's frustrated and turns her tent upside down looking for snakes. Then she sits on her air pad and it hisses and asks to sleep with her mother in her tent.

Half Dome over Yosemite Valley, 2010

Then its just beautiful, there are no words and no photos to describe what this looks like. As an amateur I may never develop the skill to explain how I felt when I looked at this view. I can only describe it like this; when you see something this beautiful you know the world is good and is worth your effort. Taking photographs for me is like trying to tell you how I felt when I see something.

Then you break the law.

Its very difficult to travel with your pet. Its actual illegal to let them swim in a protected environment. I didn't know this when Luna leaned out the window of the rental car and whined at the water. We gave in, pulled over to the most beautiful mountain lake ever seen and she dove in immediately. I've never seen such satisfaction on her face. Before anyone yells at me, I didn't know it was against the law until seeing a sign later that day. I would have happily taken the ticket because she was so damn happy.

Our family portrait and, she blinks.

Death Valley, 2010 - Devil's Golfcourse

Death Valley is the most desolate, dangerous, gorgeous, enticing place I've ever been. Its hot, its 120 degrees hot. So hot, that this year camping on the valley floor is over for the season. After finding a place to camp 2 thousand feet above the valley floor, we settled in the complete darkness with a night sky show that would make you jealous. There was a moment that can only be described as spiritual as the three of us sat in complete darkness and silence while watching the moon rise above the mountain cliffs. We watched as all the constellations slowly disappeared and the moon shed light on the valley below.

Artists Palette, Death Valley

Death Valley is very rich in mineral resources. However due to its heat and lack of water it is nearly impossible to mine. Many have tried and many have failed. I'm grateful for this desolate protection because what would have happened to this beautiful landscape if technology got hold of it?

That being said I still don't like camping. I still don't like it when my boyfriend asks "wanna take a shortcut?" I abhor the shortcut when it turns out to be a 39 mile dirt and rock road on a remote portion of Death Valley. I abhor all things like flat tires and survival scenarios when my dog is a pansy and I hate getting my hands dirty.

But we did survive, the flat tire, the remote road, the dirt, the heat, the bugs, the bears and now we're home.

This is the day I gave up on Corporate America

2010-08-25T20:01:00.000Z

I too am disappointed, in light of my last post where I applauded the actions of two seemingly mistreated humans.

It seems our dear girl who we’ll call the “dry erase quitter” was a hoax. On many occasions in many different jobs I have wanted to quit grandiosely and leave my employer feeling as bad as they have made me feel. However, I restrained myself. Why do we restrain ourselves? Because we have children, car payments, credit card payments and, mortgages and, lives. One could argue that these very aspirations ultimately become our prison guards. We can’t stand up for ourselves because, we need the money. This is another reason I too am all to familiar with.

It is in turn this very money that empowers others to act like petulant children. These children will turn on you for the small cost of a bowl of pasta. Suddenly the lady at the take-out-counter is berating you and your entire life choice because she is about you pay you $6.99 for a to-go bowl of “holier than though”. I’ve seen it happen so many times it makes me sick. It wasn’t two weeks ago when I was standing in a grocery store bakery getting a birthday cake. There was one person behind the counter and she was efficiently taking care of three different requests. Out of nowhere I see a man standing next to the “artisian” bread counter. He stood alone unacknowledged for less than two minutes. Then he shouted for all of the bakery to hear “HOW LONG DO I HAVE TO WAIT TO BUY BREAD FROM YOU PEOPLE?” I’m not sure where this well dressed, normal looking man learned about being human, but it certainly wasn’t in any finishing school I’ve ever heard of.

I’ve been a boss before and I’ve been an employee in a service organization. The first thing I did when I became a supervisor is tell my employees that they do not have to tolerate being abused by customers. No ONE needs the money that bad. As a woman who worked in an automotive field for most of my 20’s; I know this more than anyone. I would remind my co-workers that I would be equally as insulted if they were lovingly patient with a customer who walked into my shop and abused me or insulted me; which happened on a daily basis. Ultimately causing me to give up on one of the things I loved. I loved cars - now I despise the industry and everything that goes with it.

It seems that our idea of employment has no hope of getting better. You can look at this article I recently found on Salon.com that talks about how Americans work harder than our most equal Western counterparts. While I don't have the time, education or vocabulary to address the implications of socialism in the article, I can certainly see the benefits. We enjoy less, we get paid less and we have less to show for it. But that’s not the problem is it? Because on top of it all, we work to provide for our lives and families by sacrificing them. When we are finally in public we are over-worked, stressed out, emotionally stretched; we turn into total jerks. We’re jerks to those fellow humans who are equally over-worked, stressed out and emotionally stretched. Its a vicious circle of epic un-fulfilling proportions.

When I first moved to San Francisco I had a temp job or two before I started working at the restaurant. My first day on the job spent hours going over all of the personality traits of the person I was employed to care for. This seemingly healthy, successful 37 year old man had what we would call a “difficult personality”. If “difficult personality” didn’t get what he wanted he tended to not only retaliate but viciously degrade whomever was around him. Hours of Company money was spent on training me how to deal with him. But that’s OK too? Companies not only reward those high achievers or exemplars of the company with promotions, bonuses and special treatment. They are trained by their organizations to demand more and spend less. So while we’re doing more and more and, getting paid less and less and getting treated worse and worse; they are getting rewarded. Handsomely.

I had a job interview over the phone a year or so ago with an Executive Assistant placement company here in the Bay area. The interviewer who also happened to be the owner of the company asked me a seemingly innocent question. “What are your interests? Your passions you would say?” I answered with my hobbies and my activities that I LOVE. Which was promptly answered with, “it sounds like YOUR not committed to being an Executive Assistant. Most of the people who are in this business THIS IS their life” Where she continued to go on and on and on about how being an Executive Assistant is a dedicated service. I went back to bed after the interview, tended to my cold and thought that this was the last time I’m ever going to deal with another person like this in my entire life. That’s the day I gave up on Corporate America and became a comedian.

Follow up post: You don't have to work a corporate job to feel discriminated against. Read this from Jezebel about Wal-Mart trying to get a suit dismissed from 1.5 million women.

when she asked why a man in the same job as her was making $23,000 more a year, was told, "Stephanie, that assistant manager has a family and two children to support." She herself was a single mother with a six-month-old child.

Read more: http://jezebel.com/5622493/wal+mart-tries-to-unload-15-million-pesky-discrimination-plaintiffs#ixzz0xk08kCHq

Things that made me cheer this week

2010-08-10T16:00:00.000Z

People are pissed off a lot lately. Unfortunately the ones who have to put up and shut up are in the customer service industry. I feel a movement coming, a cultural movement. A time when people are expected to act with grace and dignity in the face of uncertain outcomes. I feel a movement coming on where a person is allowed to call you an asshole and dismiss your rude, uncouth, heathen ass when you act like a jerk.

Here are several instances that made me cheer!

Girl quits her day job and emails entire office, via The Chive.com

You can click on the headline to see the entire set of photographs. I'm really proud of this lady for doing this. I've been an assistant many times and I've been treated with extreme disregard several times. Just in case you're wondering dearest bosses; WE CAN FUCKING HEAR YOU!

Episode 2 when Chantel cheers!

Flight Attendant quits! Source CNN.com

His angry screed over the JetBlue plane's intercom was apparently prompted after a passenger cursed at and shoved or hit Slater. And it's getting an unexpected level of support from folks sympathetic to its "Take This Job and Shove It" bent.

I applaud this guy, as a person who has worked in some form of customer service my entire life. I've worked with the public and the public treats customer service employees like second class citizens. Customers degrade, insult, name call and generally act like douches.

I personally have been called names, insulted, yelled at, taken to court and openly sexually harassed. I've said it before and I'll say it again - don't take it! Do not reward bad behavior with good customer service. Just say no to ASSHOLES!!

Public; YOU'RE ON NOTICE!

Jeff Bezos, commencement speech

2010-07-26T14:13:00.000Z

"You will travel in a land full of marbles"

Ugly Duckling

2010-07-20T14:50:00.000Z

I recently posted a photograph on Facebook that caused a bit of a stir. You know I avoid controversy and weighty issues; you are still guaranteed that this little photograph was in no way relating to anything important. It had nothing to do with the oil spill, the war, world hunger or Lindsay Lohan.

A friend of mine is a photographer in Los Angeles. He is one of the only people who I allow to take photographs of me. For many reasons; I know in your head you just asked. “Why Chantel? Why won’t you let anyone take photographs of you?”

Because I was an ugly duckling.

I know I’ve posted this photo before but somehow you just don’t believe its me.

Its true, this is my very first photograph. If my parents were smart they would have burned it. No one was unaware that I was an unattractive child. In fact, my family reminded me all the time. Family photograph time came around annually. Annually, my family would debate where I would be placed in an effort to draw attention away from me.

You see I had some problems,
1. Hair - Curly, frizzy and born in 1972. I don’t think hair gel and conditioner had quite reached the popular public. Or it hadn’t become a staple of the poor, the homeless or, those living in Ohio. Why is Ohio so behind on adopting helpful products?
2.) I was tall - I’ve been tall my entire life. I haven’t grown since I was twelve. Unfortunately, I was too tall for pants to go to my ankles. Which means, I wore cropped pants before they were cool. “Hey Chantel, where’s the flood?” usually garnered a punch in the face.
3.) I wore glasses, with freckles. My mom bought me one pair of shoes every year and they were Saddles shoes. I shopped at the goodwill before it was cool, yet AGAIN.
4.) I was angry - I had red hair, freckles, glasses, saddles shoes and a really bad temper. This as we know does not make Little Girls sweet or cute or, anywhere near likeable. Fuck you.

This continued throughout High School until one day a boy talked to me and suddenly I was transformed from an Ugly Duckling to a mildly amusing looking human. I’ve stayed that way for a very long time. Then, one day Dr. B asked me why he deserved me. I posted a photo to his Facebook wall and reminded him that he doesn’t deserve me. While its fake confidence, its confidence I’ve never had before. The confidence to look at the one who loves you straight in the face and tell him; I love you. Dont’ fuck it up.

Life of Luna the lap dog

2010-07-16T16:19:00.000Z

Luna somehow thinks that she doesn't get enough attention. She's ruined my sex life because she gets to sleep in the bed wedged between Dr. B and I; for better or for worse depending on your perspective. She moves from lap to lap in the house depending on who's eating what at the time. And, she naps comfortably or rolls around on the carpet all day long. But there are times when she tries to be helpful while interrupting your day.

Thank the lord i didn't have anything hanging out my nose

2010-07-15T04:12:00.000Z

Dr. B received a few texts and facebook messages the other night while we were traveling in Reno. Yes, I said Reno. Yes, I like RENO. Just don't leave the resort. Oh, now you change your mind because I said R.E.S.O.R.T. ! Snob, you are.

There's a spa, a really nice one. And there's a pool with a B.A.R. And, there's a really nice suite with my name on it. I don't care that it's 1 gazillion degrees outside in those conditions.

Sorry, i was distracted.

It seems the other night my grin could be seen on national television. It seems that when I attended the taping of Last Comic Standing that you could see me grinning and clapping. Thank god, I didn't look as stupid as I usually do when laughing.

I was there to watch Laurie Kilmartin who is a finalist right now on Last Comic Standing. Laurie has appeared at Wharf Room Comedy a few times. I'm happy to announce that she's fantastic, she's caustic, she's funny, she's honest and well I think she's the bees knees. So watch Last Comic Standing and vote for Laurie or, or, or... I'll start ignoring you on Facebook.

More importantly we have a couple of fantastic shows for you this weekend. Not only is Sal Calanni headlining in celebration of his new CD "Real Job, Real Paycheck" - I might be able to tell you that Laurie will be at one or more of them Friday or Saturday. Find out more about how Laurie and I met at Wharf Room Comedy. I interview her for Pop Rock Candy Mountain and we dish! I hate that word.

You can say we did that

2010-07-15T03:25:00.000Z

There's more than one thing I need to take up with you so I'll go slow.

Last year Dr B. and I had a comedy contest at Wharf Room Comedy. Part of the prize to our winner Rachel McDowell was a professional recording of her set that night. That night was awesome for many reasons. Reason #1, the only woman in a heavy male line-up won. Reason #2, we had an amazing recording of some the best comedians in San Francisco.

Last week, we officially released Volume 1 of Wharf Room Comedy All-Stars. You have no idea how amazingly amazing it was. We had an great CD release party and now, I have 1,500 CDs sitting in my living room. A few notes about the CD.

All of the comics who made it to the final round are featured on the CD. My comedy is not on the CD. This CD is about the comedy of six finalist. It showcases their best work in a live setting. All of the comics featured on the CD are upward movers in the comedy scene. I highly anticipate that you will see a few these artists have great entertainment careers.

This CD features: Winner Rachel McDowell, other finalists - Bradley Lum, Samson Koletkar, Cory Robinson, Bill Coladonato, and Dave Karraker. You can follow all of them on Facebook.

You can buy the CD on my site or at Wharf Room Comedy dot com.

Photos from the Evening

Bill, Brian and Cory pose with fans who are willing to lay down on a restaurant carpet. EWWWW!!

Bradley Lum signs an autograph. Little did you know that Bradley not only makes the most awesome spicy ketchup ever - he is also the real Tai Mai Shu

I really like cake. Little do you know that I go on later that evening to get the worst stomach ache ever. It started with fresh oysters, took a break over the chocolate cake, cheeseburger, fries, cider and maybe some bourbon.

For some reason Andrea is always around when we have BIG Comedy celebrations. She has great timing.

Hard Knock Life

2010-06-30T18:16:00.000Z

This sometimes is the song playing in my head; because I looked a lot like Little Orphan Annie as a kid. For more than one reason this is true about me. I once had to sing "Tomorrow" from Little Orphan Annie for a Mc Donalds happy meal when I lived in Tennessee. Of course it was appropriate. We were bunking with some friends for the first half of our two year road trip to Oregon. My mother kept my hair short and which led to an Annie Afro. I was all of 7 years old, embarrassed, hungry and, bearing a terrible singing voice. But I went for it like it was American Idol because, I really wanted that cheeseburger. Oh how I coveted the cheeseburger.

Last night was one of those nights on stage. Its a night where you learn hard lessons, slowly, painfully, repetitively. After my host set which didn't go well, I watched as comic after comic went on stage and watched the audience hand them their ass. I host for the most part and, my job is to keep the show going, keep the audience engaged, introduce the next comic with as much enthusiasm as the one before. Its the kind of night where a more seasoned comic will sit in the back and teach you how to read the audience, offer quick advice on the fly and cringe as we all come down wondering; "What the fuck are we doing in this business?"

Its the kind of night where you,

a.) want to try again so bad it makes your stomach hurt or,

b.) makes you want to throw up.

Mine was the latter.

Of course there are a few comics who made it out alive. But, its my show and I want it to be good, great; every time. I haven't been performing long enough to have a "philosophy" to offer other comedians that go on my stage but I do have a few points of advice for those who go on stage night after night after night.

1.) Its our job to make the audience laugh.

2.) If the audience isn't laughing try something, anything - just move on.

3.) Don't alienate the audience by repeatedly telling them they suck.

4.) Don't alienate the audience by telling them to fuck off repeatedly.

5.) Blaming the audience only builds a wall between the audience and you. All of the other comics going after you will have to spend time fixing it. That does nothing but make it unfair for the rest of the comics who follow you.

5.) If an audience smells fear, do something with it. Make it funny and, be honest.

6.) Don't come down too early or bail on your entire set. Early is fine, too early and you lose credibility with your bookers and your fellow comics.

7.) If you can't perform sober you should rethink your career choice.

8.) If you get the light early its because you need to get off the stage. Shut up and get your ass off the stage.

Sometimes we will spend sets just getting through our material. Not every set we do will kill, this is part of the learning experience. We must learn how to be uncomfortable and we must learn how to be uncomfortable often. That's the deal, its hard to get up on stage night after night after night. It takes years to learn this, if it were easy everyone would be doing it. I covet laughs now, I covet acceptance from my audience and my peers. Most of all I covet the comfort that performers find on stage and this I'm afraid, will take me longer than most. For me a laugh is now better than a cheeseburger but, I might sing if I could get a laugh. A cheeseburger would fit the bill for now. But I would still sing for either just like American Idol.

Something says, its time for an adventure

2010-06-28T16:49:00.000Z

Parisian Cemeteries, Chantel Williams 2007

Just because its different doesn't make it wrong

2010-06-25T14:53:00.000Z

Things are different for me over the last few years. Like this blog, its taken a different direction as my life has changed. That's no surprise because its always going to evolve; as change is inevitable. Its taken a few years to adjust to things. Moving to San Francisco, not having my children with me all the time and, taking on a entirely new career in the midst of a mystery illness that has plagued me over the last year has been a bit of a challenge.

I started getting sick while I lived in Portland. I was increasingly tired, depressed and irritable. At first I just took extra anti-depressants, then I took some more. Then a doctor or two patted me on the head and told me to get some rest. I was initially very upset by this advice because, I knew that something else was wrong. So I quit my stressful corporate job and moved to San Francisco. I moved to San Francisco because I needed some sun and new scenery. "You're a high-heeled girl in a Birkenstock world" rang in my ears as I packed for my move to San Francisco. I moved, I found an equally if not more stressful job in the restaurant world and, out of nowhere stand-up comedy hit me in the face. In the mean-time my hours at work turned into work weeks that went for 7 days stretches. My work in comedy extended those days to 15 hours. My health went down to tubes dramatically. I got so tired I felt like crying all the time, my face swelled up when I ate or drank anything. My weight slowly began creeping up even though I was barely eating; a problem I had never had before. My back pain spread to neck, knees, legs, arms and so on. If it was on my body it hurt, everyday of every minute. I walked through every day and felt like I was getting the flu. The doctor again, after seeing welts and hives cover my swollen face patted me on the head once again and told me to get some rest. So I quit my job. I quit my job to pursue comedy full-time with Brian's encouragement and support. Yes, he pays my rent, lets me sleep until I get out of bed and slowly over the last six months - I'm feeling a little better. I've never not had a job or children or someone else to worry about entirely. This too is very different. While now I have no medical care I can tell you that I'm doing better with my own self-care than I am with a doctor.

Not having children full-time is something to get used to. Its now 24/7 all about me. This is the most difficult of transitions. Its never ever, ever been all about me in my life. Even when the kids were at their father's on weekends I was worried about them or their school work, or their happiness or, something I would trump up to worry about. I can't write about them now because they are adults. Their lives belong to them and not this blog - so now what do we do? I got a dog and a boyfriend who is high-maintenance and lets me sometimes take the focus off of my own ailments and goals. Kids are entertaining when their kids but when they became adults I knew that this here blog would no longer have daily updates on their adventures. I must respect their privacy as they go into the world and make their own mistakes and live their own lives.

My extra time is spent thinking up my next good dick joke. You know that kind of dick joke that keeps audience entranced with your performance? I really don't have any real dick jokes but, when all else fails on stage; go with a dick joke. I spend my time writing, writing, producing, thinking, premise-mining my own life. I take a lot of fiber, I eat a lot of vegetables, I drink tea, I meditate. I barely drink because I'm suddenly severely allergic to wine and most forms of alcohol.

If you're here for my daily drink & pill count.

1 glass of bourbon, one ice cube and, a little medical marijuana. ( I still do not have a tolerance for narcotics)

With that last six months I can finally feel the writing come back; I'm performing six nights a week or so. I'm travelling and planning my career. I'll be 38 this year and becoming an entertainer at this age is damn near impossible. But I've done more impossible things and, I still lived to tell you about it.

Mystery illness aside, I'm kicking and thriving. I'm having the best time of my life. I'm happy to have found a huge community of performers and artists to hang out with. I'm happy with San Francisco. I'm terribly unhappy about not eating and drinking the way I used to but, that's how life goes sometimes. A long time ago a few friends were teasing me about all the beautiful men I date and warned me with great amounts of joy; "You're going to fall in love with a fat balding guy someday and be very happy."

He's still got his hair.

Why aren't there any female comedians?

2010-06-24T14:18:00.000Z

Thank you Ashley Greene for being such a retard. I'm glad that I don't have to worry about trying to be a female comedian in America because they didn't exist until Jennifer Aniston & Cameron Diaz. We all know I can't compete with that kind of talent and beauty!

http://www.fandango.com/commentator_exclusiveinterview:emtwilightem’sashleygreene_338

Fandango: What sides of yourself are you looking forward to showing as an actress? Wild Apatow-style comedy, or something dramatic where you cry for half a movie?
Greene: I want to do it all! I definitely really want to do a kick-ass film. I'd love to do like a Tarantino-style film, very stylized. Comedy is something that I'm definitely looking to get into. I had a little taste of it and I do intend on going to classes for it because I think it's a different muscle, and it's hard to find female comedians.

Fandango: Especially beautiful ones…
Greene: You've got, like, Jennifer Aniston and Cameron Diaz and that's it. There are a couple more, but that would definitely be something I'd want, to be a part of that comedy world.

Your weekly show update

2010-06-19T10:19:00.000Z

I'm having a great time lately with the comedy and, the no day job and, the my daughter is here for the summer stuff I have going on right now. Its really fun when you start your own business and your children are around for it. Its fun because they become employees. Employees who get paid in burrito's. They also become employee's who give you tips on your act; that's when I slip extra hot salsa in the burrito's. However, taking a little criticism is still cheaper than a salary.

Saturday, NOW - TODAY - Tonight we have an entire line-up of comedic musicians. its unheard of I KNOW. But I can't resist having an entire night of dick jokes set to digi-music. https://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/107154

June 24, Cafe Royale will be my San Francisco storytelling debut. I've traveled to Los Angles a couple times to perform at Moth StorySlams. I'm really happy to have a full ten minutes to tell a story. I'll be debuting the story of my mother's funeral. A short hilarious romp through drug addiction, crazy family and a dead woman on a couch.

June 27, Tower Park Lodi - This is a room out in the Delta close to Sacramento. Should be hot and should be fun.

June 29 Ladies Night, Wharf Room Comedy - This is one of my favorite nights of Wharf Room Comedy. I'm always excited to have a full line-up of some of the funniest women in San Francisco. I've started a group called San Francisco Women of Comedy for networking and booking opportunities. If you haven't joined the Facebook group please do so. I fully intend to grow this group to provide additional networking, booking and performance opportunities to other women in comedy or fans of women in comedy.

July 7, Rooster T. Feathers, Sunnyvale California. A great room with fun audiences!! Please call for reservations and mention my name at the door. I get credit for people who come to the show = more time on stage.

July 21st,Bazaar Café - This is a brand new room open in San Francisco. A quaint coffee shop with a delightful garden in the back.

I am super excited to announce that Rick Shapiro of Lucky Louie will be performing at Wharf Room Comedy on August 7th. I'm so damn excited that I nearly pee'd when I finalized booking Rick. For the love of cheese, please get some tickets to see Rick tear up my stage. Its gonna be a fun night indeed.

For more amazing shows on Fisherman's Wharf, please go to www.wharfroomcomedy.com. Buy some tickets and, please feed the comedians.

Save a Ginger

2010-06-16T18:59:00.000Z

I love this; too bad both of my children turned out dark!

Chantel's got new show's

2010-06-08T18:10:00.000Z

UPDATE:

Tonight's Show at Pissed Off Pete's has been cancelled -- I'll let you know of another show as soon as its booked.

Sorry Perverts!

I know you thought it read "new SHOES"; alas, maybe next month eh?

This month is a big month for me and the club. We have great shows planned all month, I have actual shows booked all month. I'm super excited to be performing so much and even more excited that summer is here and comedy is looking good.

This Friday we do not have a Wharf Room Comedy Show. I'll be at Pissed off Pete's for the MILF Comedy Showcase. If you haven't heard my story about talking to my kids about blowjobs then this is the show for you.

Tuesday, Thursday, Friday & Saturday - WHARF ROOM COMEDY. 8 PM -- just do it!!

June 11, Pissed Off Pete's
MILF Comedy

June 29 Wharf Room Comedy
Ladies Night, Wharf Room Comedy
My favorite night of comedy at Wharf Room Comedy. All female line-up!

July 7, Rooster T. Feathers, Sunnyvale
My return to the new talent showcase. I had the best time the first time I performed in Sunnyvale. Please come and mention my name at the door. The more of you that come see me the more time I get on stage. Thank you in advance.

July 21st, Bazaar Café, San Francisco
A new room hosted by Danny Dechi. I'm hoping for a banging crowd for my first appearance.

My first San Francisco Storytelling Event
Ten Fingers
Cafe Royale, June 24
8:00 PM

Team Laurie; Last Comic Standing Premiere's TONIGHT

2010-06-07T15:25:00.000Z

Tonight Last Comic Standing premiere's on NBC. Over the winter we had a comic work out some material at Wharf Room Comedy. As time passed Chantel became a HUGE fan of Laurie and then Laurie got a restraining order. If we can get Laurie to the finals of Last Comic Standing with my help just maybe; Laurie will revoke the restraining order.

Wharf Room Comedy at The Comedy Club at Castagnola's first started the Tuesday Wharf Room Comedy showcase as a new home for comics. Over the last year of Wharf Room Comedy we've hosted many comics. We're proud that Laurie Kilmartin paid us a visit on Tuesday, March 2. We're even happier that she agreed to sit down with Chantel Williams and talk about comedy, kids, covering up your business and bread.

Grind it Up Comedy

2010-06-06T16:03:00.000Z

This little short was filmed at Wharf Room Comedy. Check out some of the comedians you see in this video. They're performers to watch out for.

Set-Up, PUNCH Streaming

2010-06-04T16:22:00.000Z

Recently I spent a few hours in studio with Drew Harmon, the author of the San Francisco Burger Blog and fellow comedian. You can listen as Drew interviews Paul Provenza and we tell tales about how we're both perfectly suited for comedy.

This weekend I'll be at Wharf Room Comedy performing. Come on by and say hello unless your wacked out of your head.

Set Up Punch June 1, 2010 with Drew Harmon, Chantel Williams, Dan Allenderwest.

San Francisco Burger Blog

2010-06-03T13:26:00.000Z

This might be the best sentence ever written about food. My friend and fellow comic Drew Harmon writes a fantastic burger review blog in San Francisco. I highly recommend regular indulgence of the Burger Blog.

"Personally, I think this burger should only be eaten while seated at a table by yourself, wearing a tuxedo and a silk sash with “Champion of the World” written on it and facing the window, and you occasionally walk up to the glass and look at all the people NOT eating the Rossini and loudly shout, “VICTORY!!!”

I recently spent 2 hours with Drew on his weekly radio program "Set Up, Punch" on Pirate Cat Radio in San Francisco. We had such a fun time (no audio stream yet). Not like you were interested in listening to me ramble on for 120 minutes. However, there is a really fun interview with Paul Provenza where Drew does an excellent job interviewing him about his new book "Satiristas" co-written with Dan Dion. An interesting and unique narrative with comics and, with beautiful photographs by Dan Dion; go get it. Immediately.

Episode 9 - You're a fucking moron

2010-05-28T15:29:00.000Z

Episode 9 is here. And there's a lot going on but I don't feel like fighting with Dr. B for mic time. He'll listen to this a lot because he likes the sound of his own voice. Its here; You're a Fucking Moron

This makes it look easy

2010-05-27T12:15:00.000Z

So the whole family was visiting Chez Chantel this week. Just imagine; a one bedroom apartment, a dog, five people six feet tall or taller. Now you know why I drink so much?

However, Mr. Bug looks like he had a great 18th birthday and I'm just damn happy that they came. Here's the slide show I made for them to take home. Be sure to stay for the credits.

Laugh Your Way to Love - San Francisco Punchline

2010-05-26T14:49:00.000Z

A new adventure in dating. "Laugh Your Way To Love" is a comedy show with a twist. Host Deb Campo attempts to make love connections from the stage. After you've had a few cocktails and loosened up with the hilarious Sam Davidoff, Joe Nguyen, and Ali Mafi, Deb will playfully introduce audience members to each other and the rest is up to you.

You don't have to be single to enjoy this amazing night of love and laughs. Tickets may be and are suggested to be purchased in advance from LiveNation.

Please note: This show is also a live taping.

Show's for this week

2010-05-24T14:08:00.000Z

This week, my son is in town for his 18th birthday. FINALLY, FINALLY, FINALLY. I'm surprised he lived. I'm surprised one of his parents didn't kill him. So this week in honor of my son's birthday I will be allowing everyone to give him a wedgie on my Tuesday night show.

Yay Mr. BUG!!

Just a note about this week. There will be no Thursday or Saturday show at Castagnola's, Wharf Room Comedy.

Tuesday -May 25 - Wharf Room Comedy 8 PM. $5

Thursday - May 27th - Comedy Off Broadway 7:30 PM, $10

Friday - May 28th - Underground Celebrities Comedy, 8:00 PM, $15

Buy a stupid shirt from a comedian

2010-05-22T20:14:00.000Z

If it feels goodOver do it by cwcreative
Create a customized t shirt at zazzle.com

At Rooster T. Feathers Comedy Club

2010-05-20T19:16:00.000Z

I promise never, ever to wear this outfit on stage ever again. It looks like the camera not only adds 50 lbs but, it added a carnival tent for good measure.

Like a Mad Hatter

2010-05-18T14:41:00.000Z

I recently went to Los Angeles to perform at the Moth again. Fun little trip that included; seeing a few good friends, food poisoning, an unexpected snow storm in the Tejan Pass and, a chat with the California Highway Patrol.

Yes Genius, traffic sucks

This officer was really nice considering I was actually speeding about 95 - 100 MPH. I did consider showing him my boobs but then I realized he's probably seen way nicer and decided to suck it up. In my defense I WAS truly trying to get home to see Dr. B before he left on a two week trip to New York.

I don't mind driving when I have long stretches of puffy clouds to keep me company. Sorry about the dirt on the window I did just drive through a snow and hail storm not an hour ago.

This Week's Shows

2010-05-17T17:10:00.000Z

This week I have a boat load of comedy happenings. You can find me all over the Bay and, hopefully somewhere close enough so YOU can come see me.

Tonight: Monday the 17th. I'll be in San Rafael at the 4th Street Tavern at 8:30 PM

Tuesday: Wharf Room Comedy at The Comedy Club at Castagnola's 8:00 PM

Wednesday: Rooster T. Feathers - Sunnyvale, New Talent Showcase, 8:00 PM

Thursday - Saturday: The Comedy Club at Castagnola's, 8:00 PM

Sometimes the Customer is just a Bitch

2010-05-17T13:28:00.000Z

Woman loses job for Facebooking about work

Its no secret that I'm not a fan of Yelp after working in the restaurant industry. I do understand why this waitress went home and wrote on Facebook about her experience with really crappy customers. I've been working on a theory

What if you could Yelp about the shitty customer who yelled at you and called you names because the toilet paper dispenser was broken? What if you could get them banned from going from restaurant to restaurant torturing employees that they feel in some way wronged them personally by delivering something 3 seconds too late or not remembering it was someones birthday and you WANT YOUR FREE CAKE in the midst of 20 tables and an hour wait.

What if you started Yelping about dinner parties at your friends homes?

"Man, it would have been great if they just would have moved the dining table to the other room so we could have a better view."

"I'll never eat there AGAIN. Grandma just has no concept of getting food out at the same TIME. And who the fuck still eats ambrosia salad?"

"Why did it take 30 minutes to get seated? I saw an empty table as soon as I walked in the door. I left Auntie Lydia a tip that would teach her a lesson in service."

We all think we have an objective perspective. We all think that our own needs and own experiences are the honest truth. We all think that what we saw happened really is the WAY it went down. What we've forgotten is that all that horrible stuff you write online about businesses, employees of those businesses and the like affect people personally. Note all the Yelp lawsuits in the last year. If you can go home and write something, irresponsible, misrepresent the facts and then, name names - turn about is fair play and should be allowed. But we've taken customer service to a different level in the United States. Your $15 for pasta does not constitute slavery.

Welcome the the United States of Customer Service Slavery

I used to work in an auto shop a long, long time ago. Whenever a customer was disgruntled they would begin by slinging personal insults, swearing and finally, name calling. I would often remind them that this sort of behavior was not appropriate. I do not and did not ever believe that bad behavior would be rewarded with good service. More than one customer would respond like this: "I'm paying you $60 fucking dollars and hour; I'll do whatever the fuck I want. I'M THE CUSTOMER AND THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT."

In which I would often reply; "Sometimes the customer is just a bitch."

Email from a lady who doesn't drink as much as she used too

2010-05-12T01:35:00.000Z

I love you
Come home
really
no dude
Come home
you don't understand
we miss you
really
she really needs you to take her for a ride in the car
seriously
for reals
for really reals
we want you to come home
I slaughtered some pork loin, its good its a new recipe
then I put bbq sauce on it
fucking killed on some sourdough
oh
yeah
forgot
please come home soon

This was in reply to a "hey I'm doing OK, how are you" email to me from Dr. B. He's been traveling since April and I was gone the last week of April. Suffice to say - its been a while since we've seen each other. I won't admit to a drink count because unfortunately i can count it on ONE hand.

Mother's Day Memory Lane

2010-05-09T13:28:00.000Z

Mother's Day 2006, Re-Post

Meet the Fockers!

Everybody is a comedian here; we tried to take a family portrait.
This is only the setups because, we just couldn't get any further.
Somebody farted, can you guess who is guilty?

Then this happend because of the fart.

And then, there was the booger!

I told you there would be a booger!

Drink Count on Mother's Day!
1 pitcher of Belini's

How Wii brought out my inner snob

2010-05-04T01:01:00.000Z

I don't know how but I suddenly discovered that Wii plays online television and movies. Suddenly today I decided to organize the entertainment equipment and decided to connect my Wii to the internet. This after 3 months of ownership which, I still can't seem to bowl a 300. I did however hit my opponent in the head during a heated ping-pong match; which was very satisfying. Did I ever think in those 3 months to find out what, this channel and that channel was?

Holy crap, I found a German film about gays on Hulu. My inner film snob is so happy right now.

PS - Check it out, "Maybe - Maybe Not"

Episode 8 - You're a Fucking Moron

2010-04-21T17:04:00.000Z

How not to have a bad day

2010-04-19T15:05:00.000Z

There are perks since I started working from home. Starbucks no longer gets all my extra money and just when I get worried I can look over and often see something like this.

Best of the Bay? No, stop, oh, stop, oh, Thanks!

2010-04-13T18:31:00.000Z

Dr. Brian and were approached recently for an interview regarding our partnership, our "partnership" and, our comedy. We're pretty happy and proud that its first stop was on Best of the Bay Area Events, www.bestofthebayarea.com.

Comics In Love

[caption id="attachment_719" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Photo by SF Ordinary Girl, 2008"][/caption]

Relationships aren’t usually hilarious as a rule. Sure, your significant other hopefully has a sense of humor, but if their jokes annoy you, things can get contentious rather quickly. Humor can either enhance the relationship and make it fun or send both parties for the door.

But, what happens when two comics hook up, or maybe even get married? I have personal experience, because last year I married a former standup comic who is now a chef. Some of our friends have said, “Wow, it must be a laugh riot at your house all the time?” But in reality, we’re surprisingly unfunny and hyper-critical of each other’s jokes.

So, that’s why I was fascinated when I met Chantel Williams and Dr. Brian King, two San Francisco comics who’ve been dating for a while and book a comedy room at Castagnola’s on Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco. I asked them a series of questions and their responses were both entertaining and informational.

Q: How did you meet and what were your situations relationship-wise before you hooked up? What were your relationships like prior to getting together?

King: I like to tell people we met at a truck stop near Pendleton, Oregon. I was passing through and she was serving up grits. The reality is much less romantic, we met online. The Internet is what’s for dinner. People sit around all the time bitching that they can’t fine “the one”, but I’ve always enjoyed being single. I love it. In fact, I’d rather be single than in a relationship, it just suits me better. I don’t believe that any one person holds the key to my happiness, and I know for a fact that I could never be that for someone else. I think that’s one reason Chantel and I work so well together, because she’d probably prefer to be single too. We are fiercely independent and very comfortable with each other’s independence. I also try not to acknowledge just how long I’ve known her, because I’m sure that if we were to ever recognize our tenure or celebrate an anniversary, it would be over almost immediately after.

Williams: We're the only people who will admit that we met online except for those people on the eHarmony commercials. The truth of the matter is that eHarmony almost rejected me and if they almost rejected me I'm sure they rejected Brian. I'm a single mom and at the time my children and I were preparing for them to go to college and leave the nest. I might be the youngest empty-nester on the face of the planet. I'm a serial dater. I was not interested in a traditional marriage, children, suburbs, minivans, etc. I love the city and wanted to stay in the city forever. Brian thinks Portland Oregon wasn't a proper city so he was generally hard to hang around. I dated a lot of really nice guys who often moved out of the country to escape being madly in love with me. For the most part my relationships ended because a.) I didn't want more children or b.) I had children. It's a Catch 22 in my life at all times.

Q: Do you write jokes with each other?

King: We try, but we have very different writing styles. For example, I’m funny. Chantel will come to me with a typical chick premise “guys and girls are different!” without a punch line and say I should put it in my act. Also, she likes puns and knock-knock jokes, and she thinks Dane Cook is hilarious. She usually thinks everything I write sucks, which is only mostly true. However, we do use each other to write. Her first stand-up set was trashing me at my roast, and a lot of her material centers around her idiot boyfriend (I swear if I ever meet the guy, I’d love to buy him a drink). As a reaction, I came up with a few sweet come-backs to her act that has worked their way into my sets as well. For a recent Valentine’s Day show, we did back-to-back sets ripping into each other. It was very cathartic. We rarely fight at home, so the stage is a good outlet.

Williams: Brian has decided that every time he opens his mouth he's trying to write a joke. We no longer have normal conversations; it’s him saying something stupid and me being disgusted and walking out of the room in a huff. We have different work styles. I'm focused on the task at hand and he is all over the map. We do work out material together but I have a writing partner Tom Smith, another local comic and Brian has to write jokes in a room by himself. He generally drives me crazy.

Q: What are some funny experiences while you've been together?

King: We’ve had a lot of good times, but none that really stand out in memory as funny. We travel a lot, I love a road trip and she is generally up for anything. We were recently stuck in Donner Pass during a snow storm and had to contemplate the pros and cons of cannibalism. Thankfully I had a big breakfast in Reno that morning.

Williams: Brian is the funniest most uninhibited person I've ever known. When he travels he takes in every tourist opportunity, when he's at home he's generally doing something fun. He has no motivation for anything if it isn't going to be fun. He has a severe case of ADD and I truly never know what he's going to come up with next. Our fun usually happens around road trips. Our most recent road trip was Christmas. He found out I had never been to Joshua Tree and within 10 hours we were packed in the car with the dog on a four-day road trip that took us through Joshua Tree, the Mojave Desert, Las Vegas and Death Valley. While in Joshua Tree, Brian dressed in his Santa suit and we took photos as he walked the dog. My life is less predictable since I met Brian and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Q: Is it difficult running a comedy room with each other?

King: Not at all, it actually works really well. We balance each other out. I’m the nutty creative and she’s the serious manager. I’m also the fearless promoter and loud-mouth attention whore whereas she’s organized and calculated. This balance has been one of the keys to our success so far; we complement each other well. For those psych geeks out there, I’m the Id and she’s the Super Ego of our comedy club. Without her, I’d have topless Tuesdays, go-go dancers between sets, and a midget in a crab suit dancing in a bowl of steamy chowder… I know sounds awesome right? But I bet it’d be a disaster to carry out and the chowder would probably scald the midget, so there’d be a lawsuit in there for sure. Sorry, I understand they don’t like being called that, I think the politically correct term is “Crustacean-American”. Also, I’d be banging a lot more of the female comedians than I am currently. And I’d never wear pants.

Williams: I think it’s difficult for any couple to work together. We have some interesting problems because Brian has severe ADD and I'm extremely linear and disciplined when I'm working. However Brian does all of our booking because he has amazing skills building spreadsheets and diligently keeps track of everyone. We are a good fit creatively because when I feel I'm limited Brian see's no limits. Two weeks ago I told Brian I would like to have a week of gay comedy at Castagnola's to celebrate Pride. This week we have a Gay Comedy Festival with a movie screening and a Drag Queen host. That's a good example of our work styles - it’s complementary. We do often bicker over details but the results are generally extraordinary.

Q: Have you ever considered being a comedy duo?

King: We get asked this a lot. I think we are actually starting to succumb to the pressure. A few months ago we started collaborating on a podcast we call “You’re An Effin’ Moron”, which is basically a discussion of the stupid things I say and do and her calling me a moron. Comic gold, I tell ya. Gold. For example, out of our first episode you got to hear such gems as the time I accidentally motor boated the dog and that “Maya Angelou is a sweet piece of tang”. We also get booked to do a lot of radio gigs together; people seem to love our banter. I mentioned earlier that we are writing jokes about each other and have performed sets back-to-back. We are actually working on a duo stage act based on this and our usual dynamic. We were all set to debut as a duo recently, but we did get stuck in Donner Pass. I think that both of us are great as individual performers, but put us together and you really get something that is much more than a sum of the parts. We’ll be working on our duo act this year, but I also don’t want us to lose our individual stage identities in the process.

Williams: I think Brian and I are naturally graduating into a comedy duo at times. We started a podcast together called “You're an E'ffing Moron”. Again another moment where I had an idea because we were driving in the car and I realized how often I tell Brian he's a moron. Our interactions are unlike any other. He says something stupid and I call him an idiot. We've been working to bring it to the stage but as everything else we don't want to rush it because we need to grow as performers and let the rest happen organically.

Q: Are your arguments funny?

King: I think they are. She just gets pissed.

Williams: Yes. Brian has a PhD in Human Sexuality and he's an extremely liberal person. He thinks that if he thinks the world works the way he wants it to that it actually does. We argue over feminism, his ideas that the entire population should be in an open relationship and who walks the dog the most. I usually throw something and call him a jerk. And then he tells me he loves me and it’s all over. That's how our podcast was started. He told the dog that "he wished I was more like her". A fight started and we have a podcast.

Q: Are you tough critics of each other?

King: Like a lot of artists, I think we are tougher critics of ourselves. We are also pretty realistic and we know when something wasn’t working or needs to improve. We are also comfortable enough to enjoy it when things go well. Because I’ve been doing comedy longer, I’ll give her notes on her performances and material. I learned a lot of lessons by just being on stage that I have been able to share with her now that she’s performing as well. And of course, we are both so new that we are constantly learning and developing.

Williams: I'm a tough critic in general. Brian is critical but less judgmental. I hold myself and others to a high standard; Brian fails to reach those standards every day. (LOLOLOL) But, we are endless supporters of one another and that's the reason we work so well. I've never had an idea that Brian didn't support. The guy does not know what it means to want something and not have it. I do push him and he pushes me. Our job is to bring out the best in each other.

To find out more about Chantel Williams and Dr. Brian King, check out these links: www.wharfroomcomedy.com
www.lifeandtimesofchantel.com (my blog which has moved into a more promotional instead of writing focused blog)
http://drbriankingandchantelwilliams.podbean.com/ (our podcast, which is also posted on my blog when new episodes come out.)

By Ed Attanasio Best of Bay Area.com
All Rights Reserved 2010

All the best, a shitload of special shows!

2010-04-12T13:06:00.000Z