I’ve home tonight with a cold and in denial over it. If I wasn’t sick I would be out at every cool soiree giving out flyers,promoting “Marga’s Laugh Party” and wearing out my welcome. I spent this evening learning that even if you cut the mold off a not- that-old pumpkin bolani bread the rest will still taste like mold and probably is not good for you. I learned that after one bite so I’m probably not poisoned yet. My dad was raised in Cuba and has influenced me to tempt fate rather than waste food. I remember his shock seeing me drink half a glass of milk and pour the rest down the sink.
I caught the last half of the new Robin Williams special on HBO “Weapon of Self Destruction” Most of it was funny and inspiring- but then, well you heard one dick joke you heard em all. At least if you don’t have one and especially if you don’t use one. He did bring his usual fresh insights re: our life and times. Robin stays current in material and fashion. Nobody ever talks about Robin’s fashion sense but ever since he got famous, at least, he always wore cool stuff, glass frames, haircuts kind of flashy, comedy chic (or is that a contradiction in terms.) In this special he wore something non descript and black.
Pink's boob sweat rocks
I don’t have HD but towards the end I could see the sweat here and there but not too bad. This is of interest to me because more than once my comic persona has been victim to boob,belly and pit sweat if I wear the wrong fabric. I lost a great video recording of my show because of it and I don’t sweat much compared to a guy. It’s obvious how much playing live means to Robin but it’s scary to watch how hard he pushes himself on stage especially so soon after the heart surgery.His material is strong enough it doesn’t need the mania anymore. He can play understated characters in movies this might be a good time for him to try pulling back in his stand-up delivery.It would be an interesting change of pace and I wouldn’t have to worry about him blowing a gasket. Because I want to see more of Robin, dick jokes and all.
The Lovely Justin Bond
I also watched Ugly Betty on demand because my friend Justin Bond had a part in it playing -a drag queen. I know how hard Justin had to work for this challenging role. Justin aced it, almost made me forget all about that sizzling Vanessa Williams. One of the subplots in this episode involved blogging. Betty was winning a BLOBBY award for her new blog to “inspire just one person.” Mark, her queen co-worker said “A blog how six years ago. No that was mean. How two years ago” So me and Betty are both a little behind the trend here and I doubt that this blog of mine should or would inspire anyone but I found a blog tonight that hit me like a thunder crack.I was just aimlessly surfing and sniffling and I landed in a story that was painful, raw and joyful. What this woman is doing with her writing is big. If you’d like to experience someone heroic who writes like an angel start with this entry http://tanyavlach.wordpress.com/2009/08/29/21-grow-a-new-eye/
Rather than forcing another blog entry today I thought I would post an unpublished entry from another travel mishap in July.
This entry below was written as ambien began to take effect on a flight to London. It’s kind of incoherent. I wrote it on my Iphone and pasted it here to fulfill my daily blog in Feb. deal.
JULY, 2009: I accidentally peed on the floor of American Airlines flight 530. In
the bathroom if that makes this less humiliating. I cleaned up the
the downfall with paper towels. Washed my hands to OCD heights and
gave my self a Courtesan wash in case my pee hit me before rejoining
the flight. So I’m still a sorry excuse for a traveller.
2 HOURS EARLIER
I chug lots of water before flights. I heard you are supposed to
hydrate. Other times I go entire days parched. But on flights I’m a
camel. GF and I are meeting in London in about 12 hours but we’re
flying separate because we can’t be normal.
GF is a dear sweet girl. A beautiful soul. A good girlfriend. To
not show up in London on her rare PTO (she gots a job) To leave her
stranded would end any light in my life. But I came so very
I arrived at SFO sleep starved but dressed better than usual. I wore
a button down shirt. Leather shoes. Laundered jeans. And a BLACK
BLAZER. And I bought matching luggage for this trip. Because people
notice. I don’t want trouble from customs at Heathrow. I Have
A Persecution complex based on experience.
I used three trays going through security in SF. I amazed myself at
my efficiency. Getting the laptop camcorder liquid baggie shoes off.
And my two belts and several layers of jackets and shirts. Because I
do wear lots of clothes on a flight. I am my own luggage.
I remember thinking that the ‘casual slow travelers’ behind me might
be learning a thing or 2.
I got to the airport two hours early. But I lingered at ticketing.
Sipping my water and reapacking my carry on just right so they
couldn’t tell I overpacked.
There was only 30 minutes left by the time I sat on the dirty bench by
TSA slipping my boots on feeling like a winner. That’s when I
couldn’t find my passport. It started as a minor hassle but twenty
minutes later I was still at that bench tearing at myself. My pockets
and the fake ones in my blazers. And the 50 compartments and nooks in
my stupid new bag.
I was yelling nooooo! Over and over again. In ten minutes the plane
would leave. I would lose my Scotland gig. Bankrupt my producer.
Return to my SF apt in the Super shuttle. My comic friends would make
me. But the only thing I couldn’t survive is telling GF. That I the
older one, the famouser one, lost my passport and she was on her own a
million miles away from me. Or she could cancel her trip and we could
hang out at home? There would have been tears.
We would break up over it. That’s to be expected.
2 THINGS. Know your luggage. Don’t try out a an espianoge valise with
secret panels that rip your hangnails back when your fisting around in
there groping for a thin blue book
TSA is not going to help you. There is no team spirit with these
guys. My shirt was open below my cleavage. Accident but the cabdriver
was nice and the first class ticket agent took care of me. I tried to
give them my attempt at femme face. The look that says “you so strong
I can’t do anything.” This will lead to sex. With 10 minutes left I
button my shirt and was writhing and moaning. Thinking somebody will
attend to this crazy woman. Homeland security had been notified
we are on alert. Screaming and acting the fool
at security is allowed.
This one big guy who I thought wa into me checked the floor and the
bins. I said but my flight to LAX is leaving. And I need to be on it
with my passport because I’M GoIng to LONDON!
London. Reminded me what a fool I was to watch the conclusion of DAISEY
Of LOVE. Out of 19 dudes she picked one named LONDon. I watched them
major tongue kiss. I want to kiss like that. I know saliva gets
everywhere but gimme tongue GF.
Aren’t you going to stop the plane my bags on there and
I’m blah blah…London!! They said all they could do was look on the floor but
They did check the surveillance tape as i was going through security. And it didn’t show me dropping the passport. He
said it had to be on me and then he asked ‘did you check your pockets’
right then I felt one liter of pure mountain water thrashing against
my bladder. My life would be over in 10 minutes.
My legs were weak .The only thing strong in me was pee. I considered peeing there by the X Ray where I
was repeatedly opening and closing my carry-on. The pee would feel good. Like when
it seems like a good idea in a dream but you tell yourself NO that
would make GF mad. I would be at TSA and give them a new variable. I
would pee. I would faint . And somehow I wake up in London.
Tsa would have a spot of tea and we wave goodbye and GF would make our
deep and slippery….
10 minutes till my flight leaves and the TSA dudes tell me that they have not sent word to the gate. See I thought people at the airport talk to each other. I thought the air traffic controller was monitering the situations.
But I was finally tipped off “We’re just Tsa talk to the gate. I
ran to the gate in shame and fear. There were two agents one was eye
rolly but the beautiful smart one said ‘you have ten minutes to keep
looking I tore at my bags like a wolf a crazy bag lady wolf……
And that’s as far as the blogging got before I passed out in my seat. Thought it was a gripping tale that day but no it wasn’t . Still it’s a blog entry and I need one. Oh and I did find the passport within the last minute before the closed the door. It had slipped inside the pages of my newspaper. And fell out as I ransacked and shook every thing in my bag one last time. I scrambled onto the plane with a deranged grin on my sweaty face and whacked my head hard on the overhead compartment as I put the damn bag away and later I was in the bathroom making a mess.
I did have a romantic week in London with my girlfriend and never told her I almost screwed it up. Cheerio.
7 more days till my big production “Marga’s Laugh Party.” I have a thousand flyers left to give out by Wed. and decisions to make about the show flow and if it would be a good idea to have a professional roller skater dance on the stage. I wish I could just book the shows and have somebody else promote them. That’s the hard part. But we got an amazing write up in the SF Weekly today .
“Any one of the performers at Marga’s Laugh Partywould be enough to get our thumbs-up for an evening’s entertainment. In fact, we can assure you this is the best comedy show in the city since the last one Janine Brito killed in (the face-hurting Laughter Against the Machine). Marga’s Laugh Party features a raging lineup of comics smashed together with a dance party — with music by SF Weekly’s 2009 Most Fashionable Person, DJ Chelsea Starr. Titular host Gomez herds local comedian cats better than anyone: Fast-talking punk trans superstar writer, filmmaker, and horndog Lynn Breedlove isn’t easily contained, if you know what we mean. Sarcastic dames are gathered here: Marcella Arguello, Brito, Emily Heller, and Natasha Muse join nondames Pippi Lovestocking, Ben McCoy, and our pretend boyfriend, Kirk Read. Full disclosure: SF Weekly contributor Tara Jepsen is also brilliantly hilarious in the show.”
Well that’s my daily report. Kind of measly. This day was a dud. I did nothing outstanding. My only outing was to Brainwash our local laundromat/cafe/comedy open mic where I tried to do my set by trying to jump up on the cafe counter. Missed it twice banging my tailbone on the counter edge on the way down and finally splitting my belt in two. Not my pants, my big Harley Davidson leather belt -in front of about ten of my fellow comics and two people folding their clothes. When you open with a big finish like that it’s all downhill. I can’t complain that was never my belt . I found it in my apt. it was left behind by one of my more interesting subletters Christa Hillhouse from the band Four Non Blondes. Later!
Oh no it’s way late. I’m supposed to be blogging everyday so I can be in this Nablopomo daily blogging project. But I can dial back the word press settings, cheat a little. It will seem as though I came right home after my show at Harvey’s in the Castro and wrote my daily blog entry before midnight. What really happened is that the comedians and I went to a wine bar till Midnight. A very sophisticated spot in the Castro that is never too crowded and will probably go out of business, perfect for after show. I was the “headliner” which isn’t really possible when the show is free. But I closed the show and I got that extra hooting and hollering when the host said “are you ready for your headliner??
People think they’re at the Copa Cabana or something. 15 minutes before I headlined I was in the men’s room fanning my “Marga’s Laugh Party” flyers on the toilet tank. That’s what this headliner does kids. Well I took the headliner adulation in stride and pumped myself up on stage to fit the bill. Then I gave out the rest of my flyers for my party next week because I am also a party promoter now. It really was a great crowd tonight, high energy, a little chattiness from a large drag queen who wandered in thinking she was on the Ru Paul show.
Sashay Away Cheater!
During my set I was most pleased that two new bits are starting to take shape and get laughs. The first is about bed sharing in a relationship and my strategies for bed domination. The second is my homage to my favorite show Cheaters wherein I renact an episode including the voiceovers. This still needs a few more hours of honing. I could spend the rest of my career reenacting Cheaters- the Joey Greco version after Tommy got stabbed. I only wish that we as a nation could have hired the licensed detectives of Cheaters to investigate John Edwards in 2008. I heard the author of the new Edwards expose, Andrew Young, interviewed on right wing radio today. Wow this book is going to be like a Cheaters mini series.
little john edwards
Marga and O'DJ party promoting in 2006
It’s 10 days till “Marga’s Laugh Party” I’ma blogging every day till Wed. Feb 10th as a way of sharing my panic with you. I’m getting nervous and trying to pretend that somebody else is in charge. I’ve booked this party at a small but important club in San Francisco and if it’s not a success I will be set out on a barge and drift away in disgrace. I’ve got lots of talented people to present in one night, but there’s got to be time for DJ Chelsea Starr to do her thing and I have to appear laid back and mingle. It’s a party.
I have thrown one professional party before with my friend DJ O’DJ in 2006 on Valentine’s day. It was a success, but not financially we split $37 after our expenses. We were dumb and charged almost nothing to get in. It was a mixer for single gay guys and lesbians.We called it Marga’s Mixer. It was really cute. DJ O’DJ set up email boxes for all our guests so they could contact each other after that night and we gave our guests fancy name tags with handles like Shorty, Brooklyn, Lady Luck. We filled the club, the lighting was sexy, the music was just right and it was an even mix of men and women. But the lesbians didn’t mingle as easily with each other and a few of them kept tagging along behind me I remember one of them whining “How am I supposed to meet somebody” And then there where the lesbians who arrived 30 minutes before the doors opened and demanded to be let in because they were tired. I realized then that I don’t have the personality to help lesbians mate. Guys are easier. They go for it. No questions and fashionably late. But many people of both sexes made dates that night and two couples that I know of fell in love. I was in one of the couples. I had sworn off ladies in 2006 for almost 2 months. But that night I got into some free whisky in the dressing room and forgot my vows of celibacy. I hooked up with a lovely person that I am completely in love with four years later and luckily she loves me back.That’s all for now. Sorry to end on love, wish I could go darker and edgier but it’s bed time. This morning at 8 am some fucker was jackhammering out my window busting up a 3 foot square of the street that is now paved over. And he’ll probably be back at it tomorrow. If I had a gun I might have shot him. I come from a family of late sleepers. We’re violent in the morning.