tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55195190320977846192024-03-08T19:43:35.920-05:00Jennifer MyszkowskiJennifer Myszkowski is a human being.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.comBlogger191125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-15476134907644564562013-07-27T12:40:00.000-04:002013-07-27T22:26:58.950-04:00My sweet baby niece is auditioning for The Voice right nowMy sweet baby niece -- who is 15-years-old now, by the way -- is auditioning for The Voice today in NYC. Every time I think about this, I start to cry a little bit. I cannot even imagine doing such a thing when I was 15. I know times are different; I was 15 23 years ago, after all. Still.<br />
<br />
I guess my first audition was in college. I was trying out for a role in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bye_Bye_Birdie_(musical)" target="_blank">Bye, Bye Birdie</a>. I wanted to play Mae Peterson, Albert Peterson's overbearing mother. When I tried out, I played Mrs. Peterson in a similar fashion to how <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coffee_Talk" target="_blank">Mike Myers played Linda Richman</a>. I didn't get that part, but I did get myself a speaking part in the chorus. My line was, "...or Roger and Phyllis?" I was disappointed, but got over it quickly and had a blast.<br />
<br />
I've auditioned for a few comedy-related things since then, and I can say with surety that if I never audition for anything again, it will be too soon. I hate it. The anxious build-up, the nerve-racking performance, the sick-making over-analysis of everything that happened, and the terrible let-down. I know there are people made of tougher stuff who can handle that scene with ease. I am not one of those people.<br />
<br />
Maya is so excited about her audition; it's practically all she's spoken to me about lately. And that's fine, of course. I tried to share with her the reality of auditioning (especially the cattle-call-like auditions that these TeeVee shows hold) without extinguishing her flame. She was extremely sanguine about it, and was confident that if she didn't make it this time, she'd make it another time and everything would be fine.<br />
<br />
I'm so proud of her for approaching this with so much hopefulness and without fear. That's really the ticket there. She's fearless! I don't know how she's turned so fearless, especially with me as her aunt. I'm always the one calling after her, "Be careful!" <br />
<br />
What I should be calling after her is, "Don't be too careful!" Because I have to admit that I've been too careful. I've missed opportunities and experiences because I was too careful, too afraid. And I'm not regretful of that. But I sure am glad that Maya's not missing a thing.<br />
<br />
God I love that kid. So much.<br />
<br />
****UPDATE****<br />
She got to audition for some producers, but didn't make it to the next level. When I got the news, I couldn't stop crying. It wasn't so much that I was disappointed she didn't make it more than I was sad that she had to endure the pain. That pain of rejection is so powerful and I have felt it so acutely and I'm just so sad that she has to feel it. That part where you don't want your sweet baby niece to ever have any pain is an impossible wish. I'm so proud of her for trying though. And I hope this experience doesn't make her stop trying. I wish I had her verve and vigor when I was her age. I'm so, so, so incredibly proud.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-67394811368794703062012-03-04T14:53:00.000-05:002012-03-04T14:53:05.940-05:00The only answer: I must be some kind of prostituteI'm pretty mad about this Rush-Limbaugh-calling-Sandra-Fluke-a-slut-because-she-wants-her-health-plan-to-cover-birth-control thing.<br />
<br />
Medical insurance is a complicated issue and I don't think anyone can argue that the system in the US is broken, broken, broken. It's helpful to know that medical coverage became tied to employment during the wage freezes of World War II. Because employers couldn't raise wages above their competitors, and because so many people were away fighting the war, qualified workers were scarce and benefits became a tool to lure 'em in. Now health coverage is linked to employment, nearly intrinsically, in our minds.<br />
<br />
Rush Limbaugh makes his living saying obnoxious things (and I might add, making uninformed arguments) and getting people to react to him. We should not be surprised when he does this; it is his job. He is very good at it.<br />
<br />
But when he suggests that a fully grown woman who wants her health plan to cover birth control must be a slut or a prostitute, it really got to me. Then he said, "<a href="http://mediamatters.org/blog/201203010012">If we are going to pay for your contraceptives, and thus pay for you to have sex, we want something for it, and I'll tell you what it is. We want you to post the videos online so we can all watch</a>."<br />
<br />
I have been using some manner of birth control for nearly two decades. I was using birth control for YEARS before I was even sexually active -- to treat an <em>actual medical condition</em>. Thankfully, it worked and I stopped having terrible, terrible -- and I mean terrible -- lady-business-related problems. That was a miracle by itself.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, I've never been employed by a Catholic company, and so my birth control has been covered by my health plan. But people shouldn't have to make ANY medical decision based on the opinions of their employers. Birth control is but one of untold thousands of legitimate health care costs. Not using birth control can cause many other health care costs, not the least of which is the birth of a live human. The part where we're even talking about this in 2012 just boggles my mind.<br />
<br />
If Rush would like to watch woman using birth control, he need only turn his head around and keep his eyes open. We are everywhere. We are using birth control all the time.<br />
<br />
But Rush wants videos. Should we make some? Let's do this!Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-14147059051358342182011-09-11T16:57:00.000-04:002011-09-11T16:57:06.181-04:00Mixed feelings re: 9/11The entire mediascape is brimming with messages about remembrances of the tenth anniversary of September 11, 2001.<br />
<br />
I have a variety of feelings and opinions about all this, and I kind of don't know how to sort through them.<br />
<br />
On the actual day, I was a mess with the tears and fear. Unlike so many of my friends, I didn't know a single person who died, so I wasn't personally affected, but I, like the rest of the country, was bereft.<br />
<br />
Today, I keep crying thinking of all the people who died -- and all the people who love the people who died who have to make it through every single day without them. <br />
<br />
And I'm balancing that with feeling really disappointed in our leaders and how our country has changed in the last 10 years. <br />
<br />
I was really uncomfortable with the blind jingoism that directly followed the attack. The people who waved the flag around all the goddamned time -- and couldn't <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Flag_Code">follow the rules for displaying it</a> -- burned my ass in a big way (and they still do, especially the flags that tucked into the car doors that waved as you drove and got filthy and tattered in short order). And the erosion of civil liberties -- especially for people who aren't white -- enrages me (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zeitoun_(book)">Dave Eggers' <em>Zeitoun</em></a> contains but one example of what I'm talking about). And the part where my tax dollars are funding multiple wars that are killing thousands of our soldiers and untold thousands of innocent victims in theater makes me so sad that I have to pretend it's not happening so I can keep going on (we were attacked by exactly 0 Iraqis and 0 Afghanis, but we just can't seem to disengage in wars with "insurgents" in those countries).<br />
<br />
This is a hard situation. I have to hand it to Hilary Price, <a href="http://www.rhymeswithorange.com/2011/09/september-11-2011/">who totally nailed it today</a>. So many mixed emotions. What can we do but howl?Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-65774354503152961102011-09-06T23:09:00.001-04:002011-09-06T23:11:17.846-04:00Investing in the futureAt this point in my life, I'm embarrassed to say (and yet not too embarrassed to reveal) that I no longer know how many times I've soiled my pants. These incidents have become too numerous to count.<br />
<br />
It started in 1991 when I was a girl of 15 shitting my pants on Easter. I think it was the au gratin potatoes that did it, but who cares? The only soundtrack to this day in history was the uproarious laughter of my cousins. This streak (pun intended) continues to this very day wherein I shit my pants not 14 feet from the toilet in my own house (yes, Scott got out the measuring tape to get exact metrics on this).<br />
<br />
The details, while hilarious, are not really appropriate for a public forum. Suffice it to say that no one was more surprised that I was shitting my pants than yours truly. Except maybe Scott, who was only a few feet away. When I realized what happened, I turned around, mortified, to see old Count Scottula gazing at me with a mixture of shock and awe. And by awe I mean horror.<br />
<br />
Usually these kinds of incidents are preceded by a frantic retreat to our home. A scurrying, if you will. A race against time. Not this time. I was just mild-manneredly minding my own business, enjoying a game of online Scrabble, without the vaguest of inklings of what was to come when, KAPOW.<br />
<br />
Friends, I am going to purchase stock in Depends forthwith. For the future. I may as well make money on this malady.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-2416195803666762062011-08-13T20:02:00.002-04:002011-08-14T06:27:27.828-04:00'I'll be taking care of you tonight'Scott and I had dinner at <a href="http://www.sidestcafe.com/">Side Street Cafe</a> last night. It was really tasty and we had a great time. We had the lighter fare meals so we'd have room for dessert. Oh, dessert, you are the best part of a meal!<br />
<br />
But the best dessert was that our server responded to, "Thank you," with, "You're welcome."<br />
<br />
I'm afraid I'm turning curmudgeonly and I'm not sure I mind. I'm sick to fucking death of these young people and their, "Not a problem," in response to, "Thank you."<br />
<br />
My thanking you is a sign that I'm trying to exhibit polite gratitude for your services. It doesn't suggest or indicate in the slightest that there was or has been a problem. The only problem in this situation is that the person saying, "Not a problem," is a total fucking moron.<br />
<br />
Everyone should follow our server's lead here. He's a shining example. So shining, that I had to tell him how much I appreciated it, kind of like a nutjob.<br />
<br />
I have to admit that I'll tolerate a, "No problem." Something about, "Not a problem," hurts me somewhere inside.<br />
<br />
On a related note, remember when the server used to come to your table and say, "My name is Amber and I'll be your server tonight?" Somehow that turned into, "My name is Amber and I'll be taking care of you tonight."<br />
<br />
Taking care of me? Really? What are you going to change my fucking diaper?<br />
<br />
Who will tell the young people? Certainly not me. No one even reads blogs anymore.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-20717184745162641312011-08-13T18:01:00.000-04:002011-08-13T18:01:50.261-04:00Hi, remember me?<div><div>What's happening?</div><div></div><div>Well, as you know, The Count and I were joined together in unholy matrimony, just like we said we would be. It was so amazing and powerful to be surrounded by our friend and family who love us. <a href="http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2095590503898.2118063.1069387012&l=fee1b03689&type=1">Look at some pictures</a>, would you?</div><div></div><div>All these people at work who I hardly know can't stop asking me about how married life is treating me. "How's married life?" "How's married life treatin' ya?" "How's the old ball-and-chain?"</div><div></div><div>No one has actually said the ball-and-chain one. I just exaggerated for effect. Is that wrong?</div><div></div><div>Married life is exactly like our life before we got married, only now we have to remember to put on rings and call each other husband/wife/spouse. </div><div></div><div>Redbook promised that getting married would make us feel closer, but I don't think it has. We were already inseperable! Of course, Redbook promised this a long time ago. My elderly aunt who used to give me a subscription to Redbook for Christmas no longer provides me the luxury, so I have no idea what they're saying these days. </div><div></div><div>(As an aside, the lack of Redbook in my life also means I have no idea what disease I have that my doctor doesn't know about. Somehow I'm managing just fine.)</div><div></div><div>I find what has brought us closer is dealing with my family. I love those nutjobs, but they sure drive me -- nay, us -- to drink. Only water, so we're not hurting ourselves. We are more hydrated than we've ever been.</div><div></div><div>And happy. God, are we ever happy. And surrounded by love. We're the luckiest two people this world has ever seen.</div><div></div><div></div></div>Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-44477995469359430192011-04-27T20:05:00.003-04:002011-04-27T20:22:14.978-04:00Executive decision made; alert the mediaPeople keep asking me if I'm going to change my name after Scott and I get hitched. I've really labored over this decision. <br /><br />I love the idea of having a family name. Even though we don't plan to make one, that really appeals to me. But I don't like the idea of changing my name.<br /><br />"Why not change your name? It's your father's name, not your name," said a moron to me. I have to differ on this. Sure, it's my father's name, but it's been my name for my whole life and that counts for something. Also, the historic significance of taking a husband's name having to do with the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">transference</span> of property from father to husband really rankles me. Scott will not own me. He has already won me, but that's separate.<br /><br />I've toyed with the idea of hyphenating my name secretly on my private documents (license, tax forms, social security card, etc.) and keeping it the same for work and comedy. That seems like a pain.<br /><br />Ultimately, I've decided to stay Jennifer <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Myszkowski</span>. It's my name. And I haven't worn it out.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-23978204084511660722011-04-24T09:55:00.005-04:002011-04-24T10:29:16.203-04:00Godless heathenism + Easter = springtime ThanksgivingI've been a godless heathen for about 15 years. One thing that's kind of blowing my mind right now is how many people celebrate Easter - and assume I do too. I really feel assailed by it. <br /><br />And even though it's not my holiday, I still have to attend an Easter dinner with my family.<br /><br />What to do?<br /><br />This morning I was reading through Facebook and spied a post by my pal Bill Bradley wherein he declared his gratitude for the people and good things in his life. And I thought, "That's the ticket!"<br /><br />Starting today, I am now thinking of Easter as springtime Thanksgiving. Here are a few things I'm grateful for this springtime Thanksgiving:<br /><br /><ul><br /><li>The Count - We met five years ago in May. He's the best thing that's ever happened to me and I'm so glad we're getting hitched in June.</li><br /><li>My family - Sometimes they drive me up a wall, but I love them and am grateful to have them.</li><br /><li>Scott's family - One of the benefits of marrying my one true love is that his family gets to be my family too. When I was having my girlhood imaginations of in-laws, I couldn't have imagined people so lovely, loving and kind.</li><br /><li>Our friends - We've assembled such a lovely group of people to love and love us. We are uncommonly blessed.</li><br /><li>That everything is going to work out just fine - I had a minor meltdown a couple days ago over the wedding planning, but I know everything is going to work out just fine and that no matter what happens at our wedding, we're going to leave it married and that's the whole point.</li><br /><li>Health - I've written extensively on this blog about plantar fasciitis. I've been over it for a couple years now and I can walk for fun and fitness again like I used to. Not being in near-constant pain has been such a glorious, glorious gift.</li><br /><li>My job - I had two goals when I took my corporate-America job nearly five years ago: 1) save for retirement and 2) buy a house. I started saving for our golden years immediately upon hire. Two years in, we bought our house. It's a huge bonus that I love my job and my colleagues so much. It hardly even feels like work most days.</li><br /><li>Our house, in particular, our newly renovated kitchen - Cooking food in a space intended for that purpose is so much better than the situation we had here before. I nearly forgot how much I love getting my bake on. We're living the good life!</li></ul><br /><p>Happy springtime Thanksgiving to all!</p>Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-42717864489215397402011-02-21T13:42:00.004-05:002011-02-21T14:11:40.234-05:00Giant man-feet strike againScott and I will be joined together in unholy matrimony on June 4, 2011. We finally finished the list and sent out save-the-date notices and all that crapola. Good god almighty.<br /><br />The other day I was hanging out with my five-year-old cousin Jacob. He plopped down on the floor next to me and shouted, "It looks like you're wearing boys' shoes!" I replied, "That's because I <em>am</em> wearing boys' shoes."<br /><br />I decided that I am not going to wear men's shoes to my wedding. Or sneakers. These are what I wear on a daily basis in order to fit both my giant man-feet and my orthotics. So I've commissioned a pair of shoes from <a href="http://www.eldiablohandmadeshoes.com/">Daphne Board</a>. She's made a mock-up pair of shoes, which I've tried on, and soon she'll be making the real thing, in bright red, for the big day.<br /><br />I'm doing this in high style.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-12790105074104340882010-09-18T17:39:00.004-04:002010-09-18T18:10:41.510-04:00Where does the time go?Hello, friends. Times have been tricky lately, which makes it hard to have time for such luxuries as blogging. But I have a little video of some comedy I performed on Thursday, which you may find enjoyable. Or you may not. Your call.<br /><br />I wrote the jokes about Scott's step-father a little while ago, but this is only the third time I've performed them. The joke needs to be re-ordered a bit for a little more punch, but I like it and am confident that it's a keeper. And the "Jennifer Juniper" joke was a brand-new add-on I wrote that very morning. Basically <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hy-ymLwe6xE">what you're getting here is hot off the presses</a>.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-13698123577809806592010-07-11T19:56:00.004-04:002010-07-11T20:37:54.752-04:00The house that wasn't quite as abandoned as we thoughtToday we were in Connecticut for a family party: A surprise for my great-uncle who turned 90. He was thrilled. It was a mostly fun party.<br /><br />Towards the end, however, I was desperate to get out of there. I can only handle so much humanity before I need to excuse myself. We went down in my sister's car so as to be responsible citizens of the world - and also not to arrive by ourselves to a party where most of the people are just this side of strangers. For this reason, we ended up being there longer than we would have been otherwise. This is the price we pay for trying to do right by the earth.<br /><br />(Aside: Doesn't it feel so silly to carpool to a party when billions upon billions of gallons of oil are pouring into the gulf? Are the couple pounds of CO2 we're saving by driving together making even a tiny difference? I hope so.)<br /><br />Once we hit the open road, Tesia thought it would be a fine idea for us to take a drive by the old homestead, where we lived until 1987. I was 12 and Tesia was 10 when we moved to Springfield. I generally don't drive by the house because every time I have, I end up crying and carrying on. Not in a nostalgic way, but in a pitiful and sad way. It's totally fucked up and so I try to avoid it.<br /><br />That said, I did drive Scott by the old house a year or so ago. He had driven me by his old houses when we were in his growing-up areas and I thought maybe seeing my house might be a good step. When we got there, it looked terrible - yard completely overgrown and a mess. We thought the house was abandoned. Even with the Count there, I cried a tiny bit for my growing-up times.<br /><br />Today, when Tesia suggested we do a drive-by, I was actually interested. I wanted to see how much further dilapidated the house had gotten.<br /><br />Holy crap. It was way worse. I said to Tesia, "I think I want to peek in the back yard." She admitted she wanted to as well. Scott offered to pretend to be our real estate agent. Because it's important to have a cover when you're scoping out an abandoned house.<br /><br />So we got out of the car and decided to just play it cool. We whispered to avoid drawing attention to ourselves. We got out to the backyard and the patio my parents had installed themselves was still there, but it was a mess. The little retaining wall had caved in and the pavers had spilled out and over. There were weeds so giant they were pushing some of the pavers up and over.<br /><br />I started to tell my niece about how Grandma and Pop had built this patio all by themselves. It used to be really nice. Blahblahblah. I start thinking that I wanted to climb up the back stairs and peek into the windows when Scott suddenly stopped and pointed up.<br /><br />What?<br /><br />"That air conditioner is running." Zoinks!<br /><br />"Holy shit, let's get out of here!" I whisper-shouted as my niece and I took off for the car.<br /><br />Scott and Tesia were laughing so hard they couldn't move.<br /><br />When we were all back in the car, we couldn't stop laughing. Tesia, in particular, was pretty much beside herself. And I didn't cry one bit.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-72490584058704781932010-07-10T23:50:00.007-04:002010-07-11T00:29:21.548-04:00Hey, look at this strangely unhealed part of me!Scott and I had a stupid fight earlier this week. Not a fight exactly. A misunderstanding? I don't know what. He was laughing at me (like, really hard) and I wasn't taking it well.<br /><br />We ended up having this really, really serious talk about mockery. I mean, I mock him from the stage all the time. And even though it's mockery, I think the undercurrent of my jokes about him really is that I love him very much. I think it's true of my jokes about anyone I joke about (my mother might argue that point).<br /><br />He was mocking me at home and laughing so hard that he fell on the ground. Plunk! Right over.<br /><br />When we got to our serious talk about what happened and why I was so upset, I had a really hard time articulating what the problem was. I mock Scott all the time, so why does it bother me that Scott mocks me? Part of the difference for me is that I mock Scott with his full permission and it's clear that it's all jokes - and that he's in on them. <br /><br />Scott started asking me questions about my growing-up times. Was I mocked as a child? Uh, yes? A lot. Mercilessly. And it turns out I'm a little bit tender-hearted about it. Or a lot tender-hearted, as it turns out. <br /><br />And that's when I realized that I turned funny so I could control the laughter. You can't laugh <span style="font-style: italic;">at</span> me if I'm in on the joke. And it blew my fucking mind.<br /><br />Last week, one of my friends was telling me about a teen-aged relative who had to have brain surgery that was risky but 100% necessary. I wondered what grade the child was in and when I found out that s/he was going to have to go back to school with his/her head shaved, I started to cry a little bit. The part where the child had to have his/her brain cut open? Scary, but okay. Fine. I don't have to cry about that. The part where s/he'd have to face his/her peers with a shaved head? I couldn't bear it.<br /><br />My niece started wearing a <a href="http://www.camelbak.com/sports-recreation/spring-summer-hydration-packs/2010-alpine-explorer.aspx">camelbak</a> this past spring. Apparently, she wants to stay fully hydrated. When I found out she was wearing it to school, I started having total anxiety. Kids are the worst. And when you do anything that makes you different from the other kids, you're basically asking for it. I asked my sister if the other kids were making fun of my niece for wearing a camelbak and she said no, that the other kids thought she was cool for having it. I asked if the other kids were getting camelbaks and she said no, but they thought my niece was cool. <br /><br />I guess that means that we're doing something right with that kid that she decides she wants to do something, does it, and doesn't have the least bit of anxiety about it. That, my friends, is sweet success.<br /><br />But coming back to my point here. Just when I thought I was a pretty whole and balanced person, somehow I found, with Scott's help, a terrible unhealed part of me lurking where I least expected it.<br /><br />I was part of an interesting Facebook conversation tonight with some other comics about the Joan Rivers documentary (which I haven't seen yet), in which Joan's daughter says that comics are insecure and need reassurance. One of my comic friends said that it's just an old stereotype. I said, "I'm insecure and need constant affirmation. I assumed we all did." When pressed for more information about if my insecurities are the reason I started comedy, I said, "For me, it's all about controlling the laughter. People have been laughing at me my whole life, and I just needed to be in charge of it."<br /><br />Anyway, this is a total breakthrough.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-27836885113168435162010-06-15T20:51:00.005-04:002010-06-16T05:17:23.399-04:00People say the darndest thingsI don't want this to become the Ann-Podolske-is-dead-now blog, but she is and it's what I'm thinking of a lot of the time, so I can't help writing about it.<br /><br />Two different people have said to me that they think Ann's death is a true love story. She really died of a broken heart, see. What bullshit. While it's true that Ann and Linda loved each other very much, there is no amount of broken heart that can give a person cancer.<br /><br />Ann really wanted to live. She said so herself. Obviously, these people just don't know. But even so, I can't imagine saying something so douche-y to people in mourning.<br /><br />When the first person said it, I was so taken aback, I couldn't say anything. The second one was just today and I responded with perhaps too much vigor. "A broken heart can't give you cancer!" I snapped. And the person sort of stopped talking. And then it was awkward.<br /><br />I've had days where I've been sad but have been able to keep it together, and then others when I've been a total mess. My colleagues and friends understand and have been great. I guess my main problem is that I've never had a close friend die - or even a friend - and I don't know how to deal with it. A few people have died on my periphery. I've got two dead grandpas who were old and sick. I've considered a few people dead to me. But never this.<br /><br />I was talking today with a colleague who lost a friend in high school. And while I don't wish I'd lost a friend in high school, if something like that had happened, I might be better prepared for this loss.<br /><br />But nothing could have prepared me for losing Ann, so there's that.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-61806634966159730202010-06-11T22:05:00.004-04:002010-06-11T23:09:32.622-04:00My good friend Ann Podolske diedFriends, it's been hard times around here.<br /><br />Multiple myeloma took down my comedy colleague, big-company coworker and all-around friend last Saturday and I am bereft. Ann "Padlock" Padolske was a true friend, a delightful companion and fucking hilarious. I'm going to miss her.<br /><br />I'm presenting a video of her comedy at her memorial service on Sunday and I have a couple minutes to say a few words about Ann to introduce the clip. I'm struggling a bit because there's just so much to say.<br /><br />I first talked to Ann on the phone when she called me to ask me if she could come to my open mic. I decided to make friends with her when she came a few months in a row and I realized she was totally hilarious. I asked her to be my comedy buddy. We started driving to shows together and giving each other notes on the way home. She lost her job, then found a new one, and then helped me get a way-better job working in a cubicle across from her.<br /><br />We used to joke that we spent altogether too much time together - working together, doing comedy together - but it really was just a joke. I enjoyed her company. A couple highlights:<br /><br />One time we were driving east to Cambridge on the Mass Pike. After I-84 traffic joins 90, but before the Charlton Plaza, a person - for reasons that we will never know - came to a dead stop in the fast lane. Easily a half-dozen cars in front of us were forced to stop and so were we. I slammed on the brakes - of her car, mind you; she refused to let me drive my death-trap, no-airbags Honda Civic and she hated driving in cities, so I drove her around in her own car. While we were coming to a stop, time basically stood still. I was positive we were getting into an accident. And so I, naturally, started shouting, "We're fine! We're fine! We're fine!" even as it was clear that we were totally NOT fine and about to careen into another car.<br /><br />Somehow, we didn't hit anyone and we made it out with nary a scratch. It was basically a miracle. We drove along for a while in total silence. My heart was beating out of my chest. But when things turned back to normal, Ann turned to me and said, "We're fine? What was that all about?" And then we laughed ourselves sick. <br /><br />Later at work, whenever anything would start careening out of control, Ann and I would start fake shouting at each other, "We're fine! We're fine! We're fine!" And one of the funnier things about it is that other people started fake shouting "We're fine! We're fine! We're fine!" It's like a thing now.<br /><br />When I first joined the ranks of corporate America, Ann was my only friend there. Honestly, I don't think I could have done it without her there to help me navigate. One of the things that got me down the most was (and still is, frankly) corporate speak. There are giant lists of things you can't say, and there are all these bullshit phrases that people abuse. A number of things I had written had been edited by a corporate moron who took out all the spirit and life. It happened all the time, but this one day it was especially disheartening. I said to Ann, "These people could edit the life out of the 'I Have a Dream' speech."<br /><br />Next thing you know, Ann and I were in the cafeteria writing a sketch. We took key pieces of the 'I Have a Dream' speech and rewrote them in corporate speak. I just remember sitting in the cafeteria and laughing so hard that we were drawing attention to ourselves but we couldn't stop because it was so funny. We performed the finished product at a Girls! Girls! Girls! show in 2007, I think. God, it was funny. I wish that we had recorded it or something. All I have is my copy of the script. <br /><br />I played the role of Dr. King. Ann played the role of Corporate America. Her career separates were all tapestry jackets - what she called the Upholstery Collection - so she had to borrow a corporaty-corporate suit from her lady. But man, did she ever play the part. So here's how we opened it:<br /><br />Me (as Dr. King): <br />I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal." I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.<br /><br />Ann (as Corporate America): I have a strategic plan to leverage our synergies.<br /><br />I started to call her "Padlock" Podolske because when I typed her name Word would always suggest, "Did you mean Padlocked?" It would make me laugh quietly at my desk. It reminded me of a mobster alias, and what with Ann being the milquetoastiest person ever, you can see why I would laugh. But then one day it asked me, "Did you mean Padlocked?" and it turned out, I did, so it stuck.<br /><br />She met Scott the day I did. We were planning to meet to go over comedy together and then I made the date with Scott directly before. She basically ran interference for me, showing up at Haymarket at the appointed time to break up our first date. I told her, "I'm never going to see that guy again!" Ha!<br /><br />I am going to miss that lady forever. I love her so much. I'm sad that she's gone, but happy that she had a peaceful end. <br /><br />Padlock, we hardly knew ye.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-39001439096030771952010-05-01T14:49:00.006-04:002010-05-01T15:48:49.628-04:00God bless AmericaThe thing about planning a wedding - which, honestly, I'm hardly doing at this point - is that it makes a couple think of everyone they've ever known while deciding who exactly they'd like to witness their glorious union. A curious difference between two people can arise. For me, if I haven't had any meaningful communication with someone in a certain amount of time, I can't think of a good reason to invite them to my wedding. Conversely, Scott's got people from childhood summer camp that he wants to invite.<br /><br />Part of it is that I did not go to childhood summer camp. Part of it is that Scott and I think about the past in different ways. And I guess that's the magic of marriage and couplehood and all that crap, what with everyone bringing something different to the table. Certainly.<br /><br />I had a hard time breaking free of the bullshit of my growing-up years and, thanks to many years of therapy with a qualified professional, I've become an adult with a life that I like - love, in fact. And I'm just not, nor do I want to be, a backwards looker. I've got some pain in there, my friends. No need to go poking in there with a stick, you know?<br /><br />I had an extremely uncomfortable run in with a woman I went to junior high and high school with last fall. She came to a show and I greeted her the way that humans do, you know, all friendly like. That wasn't the uncomfortable part. We had a few moments of casual chatting about junior high school. I was so miserable in junior high and high school that I really try to leave that all behind. The person I was then is not the person that I am now. I feel like the only way we're connected is that we have the same body. That's it. Anyway, this woman mentioned something that I used to say, which I guess was a sort of catchphrase, that I had totally forgotten about. It was nearly foreign to me, except for the part of me that I remembered it and grew suddenly red-hot and embarrassed. Who was expecting that? Certainly not me. I'm too embarrassed to tell you what it is, even now. Suffice it to say that it was a Midwestern-housewife-level non-expletive that I used to say instead of expletives.<br /><br />She was juxtaposing my former catchphrase with my current sailor mouth. She was taken by surprise, see, on account that she didn't realize I would - or even could - have a sailor mouth because I had the opposite of a sailor mouth as a youth. I told her that I had a painfully religious growing-up time, lost religion and, around the same time, started working in food service, so was cured of bible breath (I just made that up; it's kind of funny). But I was super uncomfortable and, sensing my incredible discomfort, the woman also grew uncomfortable. Then there was apologizing and no-no-it's-okay-I've-been-through-lots-of-therapy-ing and carrying on in general.<br /><br />I guess my point here is that even though I've moved past my olden times and am a totally happy adult, I'm still totally mortified by my olden times and -dare I say it - a little bit unhealed. The idea of revisiting that time on purpose just doesn't make sense to me.<br /><br />I'm super jealous of Scott in this regard. He has all these people who he WANTS to see, who knew him when he was young - and he's not the least bit embarrassed or mortified to see them again. Is it Buddhist detachment or is it just a difference in outlook or is he more evolved or what? I would love to be that detached from my painful childhood. Uh oh, I'm crying by accident.<br /><br />Of course, this is the part where we talk about how all the embarrassing and painful parts of our lives swirl around with the happy parts of our lives and turn us into the glorious tapestry of humanity that we are today. That's 100% true. Even so, I not going to go poking sticks around in there.<br /><br />Also, I'm going to try to learn more about - and perhaps even try to adopt - Scott's outlook.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-18666857887470746392010-04-17T21:42:00.005-04:002010-04-17T22:06:12.101-04:00Wedding planning = crazy makingLongtime readers of this blog may remember a wedding I was in about seven years ago that I nearly had to bow out of on account of the bride was driving me out of my god-damned mind. She didn't do anything wrong or terrible intentionally, I don't think, but she just seemed thoughtless and rude basically all the time. It imperiled our friendship, surely, and we only became truly friendly again within the last couple years. <br /><br />I have a certain amount of empathy now that I'm planning my own wedding. Sweet mother of god, it's like they <span style="font-style: italic;">want</span> you to lose your mind. By "they" I mean the wedding industrial complex - which we want nothing to do with. The wedding industrial complex makes it so tricky to plan things your own way that people ultimately break under the pressure and give in and let them do it all - oh, and pay for it all, too.<br /><br />We are reasonable people. We are not wedding industrial complex people. The problem with not being wedding industrial complex kind of people is that we have to manage every last bit of our wedding - and there are so many bits to decide upon, it's just overwhelming.<br /><br />For that reason, we convened the first meeting of the Committee to Unite Scott and Jennifer today. On the Committee are two friends who were recently wed and totally did their own thing, and one who has been wed twice. There is so much experience on this team that I think, with their guidance, we'll be able to do it.<br /><br />Our first goal: Figure out where we can do this thing and set a date. This, frankly, seems to be the hardest part. Because we have to figure out our guest list and how many people we think will be coming, and then find an appropriate venue that will allow us to bring on our own caterer and freestyle the whole thing.<br /><br />Even after our Committee meeting, I was still feeling overwhelmed, so I called my friend <a href="http://www.djfern.com/">Fernio Iglesias</a> for a consult. She has worked hundreds and hundreds of weddings and had some keen insights and things to consider.<br /><br />We still don't really know what we're doing, but I think it's important to focus on the most important part: Scott and I are crazy about each other and eager to get hitched and live happily ever after in each others warm embrace. (Barf bags are located in the seat-back pocket in front of you.) No matter what happens, we're going to leave our wedding married to each other. Even if we give up on our crazy ideas (yet to be disclosed because we want it to be a surprise) and go totally crazy and just have a pizza party at the bowling alley (not really all that bad an idea, considering), we're still going to leave married.<br /><br />I just hope I don't lose my fucking mind in the process.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-298838552210666972010-03-21T12:41:00.004-04:002010-03-21T13:00:00.088-04:00Bells are ringing, hearts are singingThe big news around here is that Scott and I are getting hitched.<br /><br />I know. Love conquers all, right?<br /><br />We started talking about it a while ago and then agreed that it was what we wanted, totally democratic-like. We talked to all our families and told them what was going on, and for the last week-ish, we've been making it public. <br /><br />Last night at Girls! Girls! Girls!, I announced it to the audience. Everyone was thrilled, as you can well imagine. What I didn't know is that Scott was planning to publicly ask me to marry him as part of the show, and I ruined it a little by pre-announcing it.<br /><br />But in any case, Scott took off all his clothes except many pairs of boxer shorts, then wrote the words on his chest, "Will you marry me?" in electrical tape, then put a potted tulip plant in his boxers, then showed up on the stage to publicly ask me to be his bride.<br /><br />As you can imagine, I was shocked. Stunned, really. Mostly because I already am his intended and he's mine. Also, because he wasn't wearing anything but boxer shorts. <br /><br />It seems like whenever Scott wants to make some kind of big, public gesture, he immediately removes his clothes. Early in our relationship, he mooned me right in the middle of downtown Northampton - and then again nearly every time I saw him. He will moon almost anyone - I think as a sign of affection. Sometimes I'll see him get a particular glimmer in his eye and I have to say, in an I-mean-business sort of stage whisper, "Do not moon them." One time he tried his hand at stand-up and did strip stand-up. He wants to marry me and he strips down to his boxers and applies electrical tape to his chest?<br /><br />Boy, is that guy a weirdo nutjob. But he's MY weirdo nutjob. I can't wait until we're hitched.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-80929290388151132602010-03-06T18:03:00.002-05:002010-03-06T18:06:51.970-05:00New blog location, y'allBlogger changed things up and said that after March 26, they weren't going to allow me to FTP my blog to my Web site. So I put aside some time last night to address this. That's when I learned that they changed the date to May 1. I could have waited, but why? <br /><br />So here's my new blog location. It still looks like it's on my Web site, but it kind of isn't. And I did have to open a help ticket with my site host and everything to make this happen. But I still basically did this myself. I used to work on the Web for a living way back in the day, and I have basically lost those skills from lack of use, so the part where I could still pull it out for this kind of makes me proud.<br /><br />The end.<br /><br />Anyway, please change your bookmarks and all that, if you would, so we can all be friends forever.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-1309389492167132962010-03-05T18:33:00.001-05:002010-03-06T17:10:31.344-05:00This blog has moved<br /> This blog is now located at http://news.jennifermyszkowski.com/.<br /> You will be automatically redirected in 30 seconds, or you may click <a href='http://news.jennifermyszkowski.com/'>here</a>.<br /><br /> For feed subscribers, please update your feed subscriptions to<br /> http://news.jennifermyszkowski.com/atom.xml.<br /> Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-86034390903899048842010-03-05T18:22:00.004-05:002010-03-05T18:32:01.575-05:00'Padlock' Podolske needs your thoughts, prayers-equivalentMy dear friend and comedy colleague <a href="http://apodolske.blogspot.com/">Ann Podolske</a> requires your good thoughts, healing energies, and whatever else you can muster. If you can spare a moment to think kindly thoughts of her, she'd sure appreciate it.<br /><br />I started calling Ann "Padlock" a year or so ago on account of Word spell check offering it as an alternative to her last name. Firefox's spell check just asked me if I wanted to change it to "Poolside." It doesn't quite have the same ring.<br /><br />Cancer took her beloved wife just this past September and it seems cosmically unjust that she should be fighting it now herself, hardly six months later. <br /><br />Padlock, we love you and are rooting for you!Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-20850919520093441142010-01-30T17:31:00.004-05:002010-01-30T17:52:51.232-05:00Bang the gongs! Ring the bells!Our laundry room is officially done.<br /><br />With the help of a handyman, the folding-folding tables are now mounted on the wall, and this concludes the laundry room project that began in August. Yes, they're folding-folding tables. Because our new laundry room is also the pass-through to the attic and kind of narrow, I bought a couple tables that fold down that we will use for folding our clothes instead of letting them pile up on the guest room bed. And the handyman also built a little shelf in the guest room closet that is adjacent to the laundry room to hide the pipes that go through it to the laundry machines.<br /><br />Do you smell that smell? It's the smell of victory.<br /><br />Verily, verily, it took a long time. It is so hard to get anything done when everything you need to do has something that needs to be done before it. Home ownering is like that, it turns out. Holy.<br /><br />Next stop: kitchen. But while we're prepping for that, I need to ask the Universe to help me find the strength to persevere. Also, I need the Universe to know that I want some shelves for the living room.<br /><br />With the completion of this laundry room project, I'm starting to regain strength. Scott and I spent several hours today trying to organize the basement, and that helps a person feel like they're moving in the right direction. I just want to continue this forward movement. I want to feel excited about our house. Universe, will you help me?<br /><br />While I was napping the weekend before last, Scott rearranged the furniture in the living room in such a way that there is room for a couple proper bookshelves. If I can acquire the bookshelves that will fit, I will be able to unpack my books, which have been in the basement since we moved in. And I will feel more at home. Here's what we need:<br /><br />Two bookshelves made of solid wood. Maybe even three. We prefer mission style, if possible. We have dark red furniture, so I think darker wood would be nicest. I'd like them to be about five feet tall and two to two-and-a-half feet wide and deep enough to hold your average book - no more than a foot, I'd say.<br /><br />I have such a specific vision because I saw what I wanted on Craigslist about a month ago, but didn't realize we had the room for them until Scott worked his magic. He is extremely magical.<br /><br />Anyway, that's it.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-29036167173949934482010-01-25T19:42:00.004-05:002010-01-25T19:47:50.561-05:00Making reparations: An updateSo I was a total chicken shit and couldn't bring myself to apologize to the Dunkin' Donuts crew at first, but because I said publicly that I would apologize, before I left for the radio station on Saturday morning, I penned an apology note in a blank-inside card. When I got to the drive-through window, I gave it to the lady and asked her to pass it to the manager who I could see clearly behind her. She looked at me like I was a madman. I said to her, "I was in here a couple weeks ago and I acted like an asshole and I'm sorry. This is an apology note." And then she looked at me like I was crazier, and I drove away.<br /><br />As I drove away, I cried a little bit, but then pulled myself together just fine.<br /><br />I had a lot of mixed emotions about the whole thing. I was worried about embarrassing myself further by making a too-showy apology or accidentally crying in front of the crew. Passing a hand-written note with my name attached I think made a statement. I'm not quite sure how it went over, of course, because I didn't stick around to find out. But I feel better about the whole thing knowing I made it right.<br /><br />The end.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-72232594838852969012010-01-14T23:37:00.004-05:002010-01-15T08:50:23.773-05:00For the recordIn this whole Leno v. Conan bullshit, I'm rooting for Conan. I think he and his staff are a bunch of comic geniuses. I'm not really anti-Leno because I think he's getting screwed in all this too. I guess I'm mostly anti-NBC because they're the ones doing the screwing. It's sad, really.<br /><br />I read an interview with Conan about 10 years ago. In it, he talked about how he watched the Tonight Show and other shows like it and knew he wanted to be an entertainer. The one thing he noticed about entertainers was that they could all tap dance, so he asked his parents for tap dancing lessons. I wish I could remember where I read that. I love that guy.<br /><br />For a while I fancied that I would marry Conan on account of a giant crush I had on him. Then he married someone else. I read the news on the Internet and was really quite sad about it. I didn't think I was actually going to marry him or anything, but it was nice to think about sometimes. I didn't cry or anything. In any case, as soon as I read it, my phone rang. It was my mother. She asked me if I was sitting down because she had some bad news for me. Then she said, "Conan got married."<br /><br />**Updated on Jan. 15, 2010 to add**<br />We stayed up late last night to watch Leno and Conan. I'm hella tired today, I'll tell you what. But what I saw was Leno acting desperate. His jokes were not funny; they were angry and painful to watch. Conan, on the other hand, was a class act. He addressed the issue, but then said that he was just an entertainer, and while all this bullshit was going on, there were real issues in the world. Then he talked about Haiti and what people could do to help. And then he went on and had a great show. He was totally hilarious.<br /><br />I can't help thinking of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Judgment_of_Solomon">old King Solomon</a> at a time like this. Who does this Tonight Show baby belong to? I can't help thinking it's the mother who does NOT want to cut the baby in half is all I'm saying.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-8252636387943836692010-01-12T23:00:00.006-05:002010-01-12T23:24:56.361-05:00One American dollarLast night and tonight we watched a film called <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0477139/">Wristcutters: A Love Story</a>. We watched it in two nights because we couldn't finish watching it last night on account of being old people who like to go to bed sometimes. I'll cut right to the chase (ha ha): we didn't love it. I don't think we hated it either, but if it didn't come so highly recommended by colleagues, we would not have finished it, I don't think.<br /><br />I said something in an off-hand way to Scott about the guy in Wristcutters being the same guy from <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0477139/">Almost Famous</a>.<br /><br />At this juncture it's important to note that I am not a betting lady. I do not bet for money. I will very occasionally bet for friendly bets where we just shake on something and nobody wins anything. I am powerfully anti-gambling. It's leftover from Jesus and reinforced by my belief that a state-run lottery is the work of Beelzebub himself (he's got a devil set aside for me) and it causes me to refuse even the simplest and most pleasurable forms of betting, including scratch tickets. Although I must admit that on the rare occasion I'm at the Big Y, I will play their fake-o slot machine game. I never win a coin. Never. I think they know that I am disgusted by their jingoistic bullshit.<br /><br />Anyway, coming back.<br /><br />So Scott says, "That's not the same guy." I said, "It certainly is. Don't you recognize him?"<br /><br />I mean, that kid's mouth shape is uniquely his. How can a person not remember it after that goofy grin he has in Almost Famous?<br /><br />Scott said, "If it's him, I will give you a dollar." See? He knows better than to try to engage me in a bet. In fact, in all the times he's tried to engage me in a bet, I think he's only succeeded once.<br /><br />I advised him that <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0297578/">the Internet was available</a> to help him on his quest. He went upstairs, returned a short time later, and handed me a dime - this to try to convince me that I was wrong and he was right. But I knew that I was right. I have eyes, for christsakes! I said, "Where's my dollar?"<br /><br />"Oh, you still think you're right?"<br /><br />"I know I'm right!" Incidentally, the guy's name is Patrick Fugit. The Internet just told me he was also in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0283139/">White Oleander</a> and - attention, please, mother - a few episodes of <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0108968/">Touched by an Angel</a> (he was not an angel, sint frum Gud).<br /><br />I'm the proud owner of a dollar coin which once belonged to Count Scottula himself!<br /><br />Victory is mine.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5519519032097784619.post-63989456461050373202010-01-09T18:01:00.003-05:002010-01-09T18:30:23.143-05:00Public apologyThis morning, I went through the Dunkin' Donuts drive thru right down the street from our house. On Saturday mornings, I have to leave the house at the latest by 7:20 to make it to the station by 7:50-ish to be on the air by 8 a.m. It's a hard life being a popular radio personality. I cannot get it together to eat breakfast at that hour, so on Saturday mornings I choose to have my breakfast passed to me through a window. Don't judge me for this.<br /><br />Here's where you can judge me:<br /><br />This morning I acted like a total fucking asshole to the Dunkin' Donuts crew. I was running late (my own fault) and I ordered my bagel sandwich and decaffeinated coffee. When the lady asked for the money, it was 44 cents more than usual. "Did the prices go up?" I asked. She replied, "You ordered a large combo." Like I didn't know what I ordered. "Whatever," I said and handed her a a five-dollar bill. "It just seems like a lot to go up in one week." In my vast Dunkin' Donuts experience, they usually raise the price by like 15 cents at a time. It just seemed like a lot. She handed me back my change, my foodstuffs and I was on my way.<br /><br />I was at the light at Dwight and Northampton and opened my sandwich to discover that it was a ham, egg and cheese. I ordered an egg and cheese. No wonder!<br /><br />Even though it was 7:33 (I monitor the time closely on Saturday mornings), I U-turned in the middle of the road, parked my car and went in to resolve this sandwich debacle. I tried to tell the man at the counter that I didn't order ham, egg and cheese - I wouldn't even order that on account of being a vegetarian - and that I wanted a new sandwich. He left me and came back with the manager. "What's the problem?" she asked. It seemed ridiculous that I would have to explain it all over again, but I did and I added (and this is the part that I sore ashamed about), "I really don't have time to fuck around here. I'm going to be late for work!"<br /><br />It was at that point that the people started to look a little frightened of me. Certainly, except for my sailor mouth, I am gentle like a lamb, but they didn't know it. They handed me a bag with a new sandwich and the manager handed me a dollar. I said, "I don't want a dollar." She said, "It's the difference in price." I said, "The difference in price is less than 50 cents." She said, "Just take it." And I couldn't, so I just left it there.<br /><br />And then I left. And all I could think about is the olden days when I worked in the bakery and how bad it would feel when someone was completely unreasonable - and I realized that I was that unreasonable this morning.<br /><br />Quite a few years ago now, I was in a comedy show with some people I didn't know very well. I ended up going out with them and this one guy's family. They were from the south. The mom was telling a funny story about the brother-in-law's bad behavior in traffic. She said, "Man, he was really showing his ass." I didn't get it. I made her repeat it. I still didn't get it. I said, "How could he drive and moon at the same time?" Turned out it was an expression I wasn't familiar with. Showing your ass means showing your worst side.<br /><br />Scott has a friend who would say, "He wasn't representing himself very well."<br /><br />This morning, I did not represent myself well. I showed my ass in a big way at Dunkin' Donuts.<br /><br />I'd almost rather have shown them my actual ass than my behavior this morning. I'm writing the Dunkin' Donuts morning crew an apology note and hand delivering it tonight so they'll see it first thing in the morning.Jennifer Myszkowskihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17138962381807636970noreply@blogger.com5