A very un-Aussie Christmas

Latest column is here. It's about having a very un-Aussie Christmas. I've gotta think of a better way to introduce these things...

In other news, have had the most gloriously awesome day with the little tikes today. While Tim's been flat out (as in on his back feeling sick), the kids and I hit the hot springs in Banff - one word: HEAVEN - and then took a ride up in the Gondola to the top of the mountain. It was awesome, well, actually, it made me remember how much I HATE heights as I spent most of the 15 minute ride up trying to keep my external cool for the kids' sake while turning my internal pants 48 shades of brown.

But the views were mind-boggling. And if that ain't worth stained psychological undergarments, then I don't know what is. I think.

Two new things squeezed in before the New Year...

1. Snowboarding. I actually - after a series of rather uncomfortable (translation = painful) jolts to the system - mustered up enough balance to board an entire mountain (translation = ski slope) without falling down. I'm the Queen of the World!!!!!!! Who needs a jacuzzi.

2. Jimmy Dean flicks. Inspired by my book-in-hand-of-themoment 'The Film Club' (translation = a very considerate Chrissie present from the hubbster), I finally got around to checking out 'East of Eden' tonight. Apparently Dennis Hopper cites James Dean as his favourite actor of all time. And now I know why.

On a sidenote, is it wrong to have a crush on someone who's been dead for more than several decades?

On starting out in comedy

Okay, so I promised a few posts ago I was gonna write some thoughts on starting out in comedy inspired by Brody's ball-growing musings on Get Your Free Cone, such as:

Just as I feared, it’s going to take a lot of time and lot of pain to get good. The stage is still alien to me. It’s frightening and I’m pretty sure it want’s to jump on my face and lay eggs in my throat. I’m scared. Please hold me.

Sounds pretty much smack bang on the mark. It does take both pain and time to get good, the question is whether you actually want it badly enough to bother going through the whole ordeal! My first experience of stand-up land came a few months after finally mustering up the effort/guts/insert-descriptor-here to start performing at a weekly improv night. It certainly wasn't the best show in the world, it certainly didn't draw the best crowds in the world...BUT I got the thrill of finally being onstage again, two free bears and a T-bone steak each week, plus most importantly of all: the confidence that at least a couple of people out there found me at least mildly amusing.

It was armed with this nieve confidence that I rang up and registered for a stand-up comedy competition I'd seen advertised - all without a scrap of material written. But the point was, I knew that with a deadline, I would have to come up with something. I took to the guitar for the first time in years - anyone who's seen me perform will attest to the fact that I am gloriously hopeless when it comes to guitar playing - figuring that at least with some musical tid-bits, even if people weren't laughing they might at least listen. Plus it would be a good shield from tomatoes.

My first time on-stage was scary, for sure. What was probably scarier though, was doing regular gigs not too long after that in a tiny little bar whose regular customers comprised a posse of construction workers who were drinking from 3 in the afternoon thanks to the drawcard of topless waitresses. By the time we got onstage at 8, they were...well, you get the idea. But...as stressful and painful as those gigs were, in hindsight they were the best thing that ever happened. Because they built my comedy muscle. Because I knew after those nights that I can deal with hecklers and not be scared. And because, as the adage goes, you do learn the most from the worst gigs. Not that I like to have a bad gig given the choice, but you do seem to reassess your set and look at what went wrong and how you can get better for next time, rather than the half minute back-slapping that comes from a good one.

Is this even making sense?

I guess my point is, that yes, comedy is painful. But that's good because there's already so many people trying it that I guess the pain factor weeds out those who really want it and those who can't be bothered going through the whole shebang. But once you've been bitten and there's no turning back...I think the pain is actually good for you.

Unless you start smashing yourself over the head with Sumo wrestlers. That is bad and should be highly discouraged.

PS A very interesting article on the nature of humour if you're keen.

Merry Christmas y'all!!!!

See what Canada has done to us already?

Merry Christmas. xox

Women funny - the saga continues!

Okay, if you really are interested in the whole 'women being funny' issue, you have to have to have to check out this.

Wow, is this link week or what?

Men funnier than women?

Now, I don't really want to go opening this can of worms - I hate both cans and worms - but I just stumbled across this little 'study', the instigator of which believes that humour stems from aggression caused by testosterone. Ergo, he jumped on his unicycle (and no, I'm not speaking metaphorically) to prove his point.

Uh...I genuinely am curious to hear your thoughts on this. Couldn't his findings (that most women who saw him shouted words of encouragement while most guys shouted snide remarks or put-downs) just mean that women - and yes, I'm generalising, but that seems the gist of the study - have a kneejerk reaction to encourage, while men have a kneejerk reaction to mock?

And another question - even if you consider this mocking 'funny', does a quantity of reactions necessarily equate to a quality? I don't know about you, but I can think of quite a few people I've met in my life who may crack jokes all the time...without necessarily hitting the funny bone.

Thoughts?

New Years Resolutions

I do apologise for the slack entries of late, I've been crazily caught up in the silly season. In the meantime, do enjoy - or in the absence of enjoyment, ''read' will suffice - my latest delirium-riddled column. It's on New Years Resolutions. One of which will be to come up with original column topics.

Ehem.

Pass the eggnog.

Check out this blog - it's one of my new faves. The latest couple of posts have inspired some very long-winded responses to starting out in comedy, which I will shortly post to this very blog. So thanks Brody!

For now though, I'm having a little writing break today. Due to Christmas holidays and the like, my editor required me to submit my ramblings - ideally complete with wit, wisdom and (shock! horror!) coherence - not only four days earlier than usual but in the form of not one but TWO columns in the one hit. Hence, I was up til two this morning banging my head on the desk and boy did it hurt.

I'll post the column here once it's published. But be warned ye readers - I highly doubt that any of it will even make sense. But on the bright side, you will get to see what my brain looks like spilled out onto the page in the early morning stages of deadline-driven delerium.

I ain't saying it'll be pretty, but it'll be something.

Jamie Lynn Spears: mamma mia.

Oh boy. I don't even want to get into the pop culture element of this whole debacle. All I can say is that now, two kids into my life, whenever I see ANYBODY pregnant with their first child - whether they're 16, 29 or 43, there is a part of me thinking 'Wow, oh wow. You have absolutely no idea what you're in for.'

Because I didn't. Nobody does. No matter how many books you read, stories you hear and people you talk to, at the end of the day, absolutely NOTHING prepares you for parenthood. Nothing.

The difference with seeing a 16 year old get up the duff - regardless of who she is or how famous her family might be - is that my thoughts move on to: 'Wow, oh wow. One hundred per cent of your post-child life (spot the irony?) is going to be about kids...and you have absolutely no idea what you're in for.'

I'm tired just thinking about it.

Mel Brooks: What I've Learned

Just thought I'd share with you this interesting little snippet on Mel Brooks from Esquire, which I just stumbled upon.

I particularly like the part about comedy not being frivolous, that it needs to have heart. I'm paraphrasing, of course, but when I think about my favourite comedies, it's true - there's something deeper going on than just 'wacka wacka' type stuff. Buffy, Muriel's Wedding, Kung Fu Hustle, I could go on for a while here...even Spaceballs, which at the time, I thought was the funniest thing on the planet - no pun intended - a big part of the appeal was, I guess, heart-type stuff, in that case, a real belief in the chemistry between Bill Pullman and Daphne Zuniga. Oh and John Candy was just so damn cute.

Anyway, I've just realised I'm starting off my morning by psychoanalysing Spaceballs, so I guess the day is gonna be all downhill from here.

Need. More. Coffee.

Of Mice and Music.

Sorry for the massive gap between entries - it's been what? Two whole days? Anyhoo, my excuse note goes a little something like this:

1) Our mouse decided to curl up in a tiny little corner of the computer and die. On the downside, this means we've been completely disconnected from computah land. On the upside, it's the kinda dead mouse that doesn't smell.

2) I've been using the extra time to embark on a mad and torrid affair with my keyboard (the musical one). Man oh man. I'm elated and exhausted all at once.

Excuse me while I go give it another dry-hump.

New links: finally!!

Forgot to mention I've also updated my links list, which now includes - in addition to my wonderful new cyber-buddy Miss Understood - some really wicked blogs revolving around comedy and writing respectively. So if you get that loving feeling, check em out!!

Latest column: Confessions of an Ice Queen

Oh the joys of ice skating.

In other news, thank heavens it's the weekend! We've got a mad one planned, mainly comprising social engagements and fun/tantrum-inducing Christmasy stuff with the kiddlies. Yay!

Plus I feel like this week I've FINALLY cracked the critical balance of friends in this town to make me feel actually loved here. Translation = able to walk down the street and bump into at least one person I know. (I know, I know, I'm sure given enough time that will become annoying, but for now: oh sweet friends. Go forth and multiply! Not literally. That would just be weird and mildly uncomfortable.)

So today: down to the local playroom for me and the kids, then we're baking Christmas tree cookies (yes, ME...BAKING...what is this country doing to me?) and are all off to a Christmas party for the afternoon.

O Canada, O Canada...

(I'd sing more but that's all I know. Sozzoms).

Permanent things are freaky.

I've been thinking of getting a new tattoo. And having another baby. It would seem they're both as addictive as the other.

Sigh.

But...the permanence of both possibilities is what is scaring me off at the moment. And the fact that my stupefyingly 'original' idea for a tatt is - after much googling - apparently not so revolutionary after all. I even saw a smidgeon of it on Jack's inner arm while sacrificing my night-time sleep in favour of devouring the entire third season of Lost.

Double sigh.

On an unrelated note, I've apparently been featured on the comedy homepage of TalentDatabase.



Good sigh.

Tyra Banks bullshizz: the Comic Mummy breakdown

Okay, so I've laid off the pop culture stuff for a bit, so revolted was I beginning to get with my preoccupation with it (a symptom of my having a little too much time on my hands for a while there...) but something's come to my attention this week that I simply cannot NOT comment on.

This whole 'Jennifer Love Hewitt/Tyra Banks/insert-other-target-here is fat' thing.

*taking a deep breath*

It is my very humble opinion that a new code of conduct be devised, a code which every single editor of every single gossip/women/etc magazine is bound to comply with. A code which entails:

1. NEVER publishing articles on 'Boost your self esteem!', 'The Tragedy of Bulimia' or 'Love your body now!' if they appear in the same issue as zoom lensed photos closing in on "Uma Thurman's cottage cheese thighs".

And yes, I actually saw that on a mag once, I believe the exact caption on the cover was something like 'Uma's cottage cheese thighs: EWW!!!!' I know after simply seeing that on the magazine rack - and I never even bought the damn thing - I instantly felt compelled to cover up all my flesh with an extra couple of layers of clothing. Of course it being summer and all, I instead opted for icecream, thereby adding an extra couple of layers of fat. Point is: while printing crap like that may arguably make us feel better for a millisecond that celebs are mere mortals after all, this is mega-outweighed by the feeling of 'well gees, if The Bride is having issues then what the hell is this whale-suit I'm lugging around?'

and furthermore:

2. ONLY using buzzwords like 'fat' or 'chubby' after said editor has subjected themselves to a photo shoot combining underwear, close-ups and fluroescent lighting.

What can I say? I aim to make the world a better place.

PS Speaking of knickers (and slumber, not that I mentioned that but I had to slip it in there somewhere) I haven't forgotten your suggestions Miss and Mezz! I'll be doing the next video entry soon, promise!

3 Things I've Discovered this Week

1. People in this area are unBELIEVABLY generous. Case in point: the dude who sold us our car a good six weeks ago, randomly rocked up on our doorstep the other night with boxes and boxes of Christmas decorations, ornaments, lights and presents for the kids. "I hope you don't think this is weird," he said, "it's just my wife and I don't have any children and we know you're new here and we just wanted to make sure you have a really great Christmas."

Did you hear that? That was my jaw hitting the floor. Luckily, this being one of the nicest places on earth, said jaw did not shatter but simply bounced straight up again only to be filled with fairy-floss.

Dig.

2. Toboganning is possibly the most fun - and free - thing ever in the entire world. Both the kids and I are completely smitten.

Rock.

3. Betty Crocker's chocolate frosting in a tub is possibly the most delectable - and fattening - thing I've ever been addicted to. I'm in serious trouble here.

Doh.

The downside to gigging in Canada

So I'm on my way to Yuk Yuk's last night, having set out some two and a half hours PRIOR to the gig to allow myself the requisite time to get lost (which I've been making a habit of every time I've driven to Calgary thus far).

It's a snowy night. The roads are icy. And it's pitch black.

Yet nothing will stop me. For this is my first night at Yuk Yuk's! And I am psyched! And...I am hardcore!

Then the rain starts. Which quickly turns to ice on my windscreen. Which, combined with the trucks zooming by in lanes which I can't even see the markings of...leaves me feeling a little frazzled. Suddenly I can't see a thing, and I'm struck by two thoughts:

1. If I die tonight, thus leaving my kids motherless for a 7-minute spot at a comedy club, I'm gonna be mighty peeved.

2. There is no WAY I'm leaving this planet to the sound of a Jessica Simpson track. (Hey, it was the only radio station I could get reception on, gimme a break!)

And so, I did the unthinkable, pulled over at the nearest petrol station, calmed myself and phoned Tim to ask him to call the club and explain that I wasn't game to make it. "Wow," teased Tim. "You're giving up a gig? It must be REALLY bad!"

And so I dragged my sorry icicled butt back home at a mind-boggling highway pace of 60kph. All dressed up with nowhere to go, I got home in time to read books to my little dude and kiss both kidlets goodnight, then drowned my sorrows in some way-too-rich licquer with the Tim-meister, followed by practising on my keyboard (I'm learning to play Jerry Lewis style...yeehaw!) and then staying up WAY too late to polish off Steve Martin's Born Standing Up. Which, might I add, is so full of insight and general all-round marvel that when I was only a third of the way through I already could not WAIT to read it all over again! If you are a comedian, you must read this. That is an order.

Now excuse me while I finish calming down this morning. After last night's highway escapades, I think I'm due for at least a chant or forty-four.

Today's Headlines

It's Monday morning, there's by far the most snow here that I've seen thus far (can you say 'let's shovel out the car'?) and I'm about to take my little tike ice-skating.

How's that for officially updating?

The latest:

- I FINALLY got my butt down to train with Loose Moose Theatre on Saturday and in a word (or more specifically, 5): it was worth the wait! The group seems to be pretty varied in its make-up but with one uniting factor: positivity!

- I'm doing a spot down at Yuk Yuk's tomorrow night. Chookas to me.

- The kids are fully recovered and enjoying life again. They are also DESPERATE to get a Christmas tree up, so looks like that's on the agenda for this afternoon.

- And I miss my Mum.

Zat is all.

The Video Blogging Experiment: The Sequel!