SEX, LIES AND NO VIDEOTAPE

Oh, where shall I begin. This post goes out to the mother-fucker who started this and those that added to the myth. Yes myth, legend, tall tale, fiction, fable.......

I was thoroughly enlightened last evening by a kind, intelligent man, who just wanted to know the reasoning behind my out of control behaviour. "Huh? What?" Well. It seems that I've been running rampant the last few years and he just wanted to understand why I would do that. Apparently, I've lost weight, left my husband, fucked up my job and turned into a wino slut. After much discussion, I got the basics and wow, I've been having a FANTASTIC time!

Apparently, you simply have to toss a few drinks down my throat and I'll be on my knees, orally pleasing you in no time. At least they had the good grace to say I was extraordinary - gosh, thanks guys. The story continues that I've been suspended for my bad behaviour and I'm not allowed to consume alcohol at work. Names were named.

Shall we begin the de-bunking?

Okay, you scum-sucking pieces of shit. I lost weight. Big fucking deal. Does it intimidate you now that I'm more attractive. I walk with confidence, because I feel good. Did I reject your advances? I can't imagine why, but the body change seems to have triggered this nonsense. I had marital trouble well over a year ago. It's sorted out and we're happy AND we fuck. Alot.

I have never been suspended or reprimanded for anything besides leaving early one night three years ago. This is so off-base that the person who was said to have suspended me isn't even my boss!

Now, on to the boys that I've been pleasing. Well, the first one is a very close friend that quite possibly may have saved my life. The tale is that he broke up my marriage. No. He DID help me save my marriage. However, I have never fucked, nor sucked him. I do speak affectionately and publically about him and will continue to do so until I choose otherwise. There isn't anyone that can get me to censor my feelings or words. Fuck you for trying.

Next up to my mouth is another dear friend. We have been buddies for over 15 years - damn near forever. We are as far from sexual with each other as any two people can be. In case you can't fathom that, here's a visual: We are literally the last of our species. We are now responsible for propagating the human race. We look at each other and simultaneously say "EWWWWWWWWW". But the burden is still there. We try again. We have martinis - lots of them. We wait for dark. We watch some porn and then lean in for that start-up kiss......................................forget it . Cockroaches can take over. We just can't. Double ewwww.

Contestant number three is a man I barely know. Hasn't been here in 2-3 years. Don't know exactly because I don't care. I'm pretty sure that I've never sat down and had a conversation with him. Don't care to really. I don't find him funny or interesting. I'm not drawn to him in any way, professionally or personally. All I have is a whole bunch of "don't give a fuck".

This next one is a doozy. Someone had to get really creative to pair us up. I don't like this man. He doesn't like me. I have a history of not getting along with him. He hasn't been here in years, in fact, he's on asnother continent! Wow, long distance blowjobs. I'm good.

These are enough examples to illustrate the absurdity of the situaton. I do see a pattern though. Three of these men are American and one is Canadian, living abroad. It would seem that I like to keep my distance. I guess that way I can have variety. If I'm as good as they say, they would be clamouring for more and I'd never get to the next dick.

So here's the best part. All of my supposed raunchy behaviour, was actually conducted by two women I know. The men listed have been with one and in some cases, both of these ladies. The work and marriage situations - all very close to their realities. Somewhere along the way, I have absorbed all of their reputations and lives. I find this fascinating. How? I know comics are creative creatures, with too much time on their hands and copious amounts of booze and drugs in their systems, but jesus fuck! How do you meld three women into one? And besides, they're brunettes! I'm a freaking redhead! How do you ever confuse that?

A question was thrown to me after these revelations. "Have you noticed that you're getting alot more attention?" Well yes, I have. I thought it was because I looked and felt great, am kind and warm, wickedly funny and inappropriate and people like that. I've always had to struggle with the idea that people were nice to me because of my position and were sucking up. Let's just chip away a little more at my confidence. Now I have to doubt it all. The attention may be because they've "heard" and want in on the action. Nice. I like that alot. I can recall one recent incident when that was clearly the case. At least I got that mystery cleared up.

So now what to do? Some will say leave it alone, it'll go away. The more I protest, the louder it'll get. Well, that doesn't sit right with me. I will not lay back (no pun intended) and let these losers destroy me or my reputation. I have lived my life in a manner that I'm not ashamed of. These slanderous accusations cannot and will not go unanswered. And quite frankly, even if I had done these things, who gives a fuck? When did these people become the moral police? I'd like to put their lives under a microscope and see how they fair. The fact that good people, people that are my friends are hearing this and believing it, might just possibly be the hardest thing to understand and absorb. Does this really sound like me? Are we all (myself included) so thirsty for a good story that we buy this without asking questions? It is sad, so sad and now I have to step back and think about the rumours/stories I've heard of others and believed carte blanche. Shame on all of us.

This, along with another ongoing saga (I maywrite about that as well), have really made me question this industry. I have been passionate about the way that I run my club and treat everyone I work with, comics and staff alike. It currently appears that this was all for not. If something doesn't change and I mean quickly, it will be time to look at something else. I don't want to become the person that I feel like today. Bitter, jaded, angry and hurt.

I will try my best to get to the bottom of this, although I doubt I ever will. I welcome all input, in the comments or email. If you have information, have heard these rumours (and don't be afraid to hurt my feelings - I NEED to hear everything, good or bad) or simply have an opinion, feel free to express it.

Consider this matter out in the open. Secrets breed lies. In order for anyone to continue this fairytale, they'll have to do it with the knowledge that I know. Look me in the face, or identify yourself and ask me, if you dare. I know the truth and perhaps soon others will too.

D.

A WEEK IN THE LIFE

What a week! I laughed, I cried, I.................

Brett, your quiet confidence was on full bright and I hope you felt it as much as I sensed it. I even laughed at and for the first time appreciated, "Fist fuck the Queen". Remember the little people Brett.

Welcome back to my world Dre. You have a way of making me feel special and I truly appreciate you for that.

Farewell Mr. Young Hot Guy. Yummy.

A brilliantly lit, toasty spring evening at the ball diamond, giggling with my teen, was the setting for a grand event. I was awash in the warm and fuzzies when my child detailed how alike we are, "Mom, we're the same person"and sounded proud. I could relive that evening over and over and never tire of it.

Buckle up all lackadaisical, established comedians. I believe you best be getting out the quill and reaching back to the days when you actually wrote jokes and cared about your chosen profession. The hungry, eager gang that hit the stage for our Comedy Idol final have their ambitious eyes on your jobs and they are talented. Don't say I didn't warn you.

To my newbies: The evening was a blur. I was stricken with nerves as each of you took the stage to be appraised by the audience, the judges, your peers and ultimately, yourselves. My emotions ebbed and flowed as you threw down your best and waited for the verdict. I may have outdone myself in the "Mother Hen" character that night, as I felt the pain and joy with you. At the end of the day, I'm filled with pride as you all showed tremendous growth and potential. I can't wait to see what the future brings for you. Well done.

My heart breaks for my dear friend that found his rock bottom. No, nevermind. This will have it's own post.

This brings me to today. Our Hollywood guy is here and I'm thrilled to find that he is still a humble, kind human. The bonus is that he is funny. Damn funny. It's heartening to know that we're one of the few clubs he'll still play and that our city has come out in droves to watch him have fun at work. My staff have performed herculian tasks to ensure that this event is a success and I am grateful for that.

Now I must be off to preside over my sold-out shows. And then sleep. Much, much sleep.

D.

BUNGEE-JUMPING

My friend Daniel (www.danielrock.blogspot.com) just wrote a post that included a bit that compares cancer to Christians. In that he says : "everyone likes you if you have cancer". Well, that just reminded me of something I've thought of numerous times, but I don't believe have ever expressed to anyone.

I occasionally read obituries. It's kind of a game to see if I can figure out what kind of people they are just by the standard form that everyone seems to follow. (sidenote - if I die and someone wants to write one of these soulless, bland obits, shoot them and write me one I deserve, good or bad. Thanking you in avance)

People die of cancer, lots of them. People die of heart disease, lots of them. People die of.........lots of them. So, if everyone would so kindly please stop saying "XYZ died after a long and courageous battle with cancer". There is nothing courageous about getting cancer. You didn't throw yourself in front a speeding cancer cell to save someone. You just got it. No work or intestinal fortitude required. For whatever reason, your body spazzed out. You have been given no choice but to deal with it to the best of medical technology, or blow your brains out.

Now, don't bother bitching me out with sad tales of your Aunt that fought with all of her might and never complained once. Blah, blah, blah. Good for her and better for the family and friends around her. But courageous? NO. Let's be honest here. For every Aunt story, there are 10 that if told truthfully, will let you know that Uncle was a pain in the ass whilst cancer ate his body.

Courage is facing fear, knowing that what you're up against may cause you much grief, pain or death and doing it anyway, by choice. If you love thrill and are not afraid of heights, jumping out of an airplane is not courageous. If I jump out of an airplane, please do call me courageous. There are few things that I think would be scarier, so doing it would be a huge deal.

Cancer doesn't suddenly make you a saint. Living your life as a good human makes you a saint. I'm really tired of people putting their loved ones on a pedestal because they've been given this particular cross to bear. Live your everyday life with all the courage you can muster, be nice to people and then perhaps someone can write that you died after living your LIFE with courage and grace.

I know I'd prefer that.

D.

PEYTON PLACE

I'm not comfortable with drama. Some people who purport to know me may disagree, but they're very, very wrong. From a wee child, to this very day, I constantly find myself embroiled in it. It seems to be a favourite past-time of many.

I recall so many times as a teenager, imbibing in underage experimental (experimental to my friends - I was a well-seasoned drunk by then) drinking, frequently in a park-like setting, when one of the cronic drama queens would begin her wailing and flailing. Probably over a boy, or a perceived slight from one of the others in attendence. I doubt it really mattered. The attention was always the goal. I've always thought it undignified to publically display that kind of mental anguish, but apparently I'm repressed. Or have a touch more class. That is wide open for debate. Regardless, once the ugly emotion gate has been kicked open, it's hard to contain the animals within. Much chaos would aways ensue. Bawling, screeching, running as if being chased by demons, it's all part of the game. There are safety issues with the latter. My friend Tiziana almost got hit by a cab tearing across a road during one of her episodes. So this leads me to my role, one I've practised and perfected over the years. There has to be a calm, soothing, rational voice to stop the nonsense. It would be easy to roll my eyes and walk away, but I've never been comfortable with that. My fault. Some genetic disorder perhaps. A friend recently told me that I get something out of it too, so it's not pure. Sure I do. I do feel good when I diffuse a situation, or soothe the anguish of a friend. I get to sleep at night knowing that I tried to help. I'm not okay sitting by watching others fall, whether from imaginary or real situations. It's not for everyone, but it's for me.

This part of my personality frequently causes backlash, the kill the messenger thing, but I accept that as the inevitable downside. If I am going to enjoy the afterglow of a success, then I have to be prepared for the misguided anger that sometimes follows.

Now the hard part - what draws these type of people to me, or am I drawn to them and if so, why? Well, I haven't a clue. Apparently I have more homework to do.

D.

P.S. I wrote this over a month ago, but couldn't seem to finish it - the words just wouldn't come. The last line is the only new addition. Since then, I have realized that each passing moment I find myself a little less dignified and a little more dramatic. I'm hoping it's because I'm finally loosening up and being more honest, or maybe I'm just a big loser. The jury is still out on this one. Oh, woe is me and my circle.

SINS - PART TWO

I don't know what is with these damn sins and me, but I just had a bout with another.

Jealousy. I experienced a few moments of outright, unequivocal jealous rage. It was not a good feeling. I felt violent and I'm pretty sure my head just about came clean off. When I snapped out of it, I was emotionally exhausted and thoroughly ashamed at my irrational behavior. Jealousy is weak and smacks of lack of confidence in self and others. It has been used in the name of love, when it really hasn't a thing to do with love. It is an emotion that at one time in my life I rejected. I've had recent encounters with it and it is encompassing. It pains me in that I find this behavior appalling. I am NOT that person, yet I have succumbed to it. Why this is prevalent now is beyond my logic. I despise it. It is sick and small and ruinous. NO good can ever, ever come of it.

So in the days to come, I have to sort this out and seek some answers. I don't particularily look forward to confronting the beast, but it apparently is in me and needs to be given a stern talking to. At that point, perhaps I can return to my previous sanity (shut it - I am so sane........ish) and contain any further outbursts. Peace of heart will then hopefully return to my life.

DORITOS IN ALL THEIR GLORY

Gluttony is supposed to be a deadly sin, according to someone. I really don't know who decided that, because they sure didn't consult me. I think reading too many self-help books and taking Dr. Phil seriously is sinful gluttony, whereas eating a cartful of truffles is not. Truffles and guacamole Doritos. That's just fun. Gluttony CAN be a good thing, except that when it's food, it can be decidedly uncomfortable.

I have recently re-lived the downside of gluttony. In a vain attempt to deny my looming re-commitment to a low-carb lifestyle, I tried to cram as many of them as possible into me in the last 2 days. Here is an excerpt that I wrote in the wee hours while pacing between the kitchen and bathroom.

"I couldn't feel more nauseas, but I actually got out of bed, at 4:00am, in search of the Miss Vicki's sweet chili and sour cream chips that I saw come through the door in a luminous Safeway bag. My eyes CAN be sharp when motivated. I really am very, very ill, but damn it, if this mission is successful, those will be the last evil (but yummy) carbs going through me for quite some time. Damn, I'm going to miss them. It was far easier the first time I did this, because I was so fat and was so excited to peer into the unknown that is shopping at a regular store. I had no idea what I was getting into. Now I know and I have great sadness knowing they can never be a part of my life. I'm not much good at goodbyes. I believe that most people that know me are pretty clear on that. I have occasionally been known to obsess about the things that I love. And now, I must return to my bed, with a bloated belly and grief in my heart. Goodbye carbs. With not as much weight to lose this time, I'm not nearly as motivated. It'll be slow going too, so I must dig deep to find the discipline and patience to make this successful. I'll find it."

So, this is a week later, the pounds are coming off and I indeed did locate the tools necessary for this to work. I'm back into clothes I had grown out of and look forward to even smaller ones in the near future. I do miss those lovely carbs, but not as much as I had anticipated. The reward is better.

In the end, I will find more suitable pursuits to saturate myself in, but I must say, long live gluttony.