And the latest column: Christmas Festivities in Canmore

I must admit that I churned this one out rather quickly but I think it's one of my faves thus far, if only cos it documents such a special night.

Don't ask me why I did it...

...but tonight, I rode my bicycle both TO and FROM work in the snow.

Dude, I am so totally hardcore right now.

Thank you Anonymous!

Whoever you are, thanks for directing my attention to the Stephen Fry article on bipolar - as serendipity would have it, the very next day I came face to face with his autobiography in our little ole public library. It now sits on my kitchen bench, awaiting my devouring eyes.

Hopefully they'll actually get around to reading it shortly; I have this horrible habit of being overcome with excitement in libraries, stocking up on a billion books and of course, only ever getting to one, maybe two of them at most. Much like the way I am with life.

The more this trip goes on, I'm realising it's one big lesson in reality checking!!

Forecast: brighter

So on the upside, Ella is back at school again and Caleb is well enough to get out and about again too. Woohoo!

On the downside, the little Mister's preschool has been shut down for the next few weeks - apparently they found some mould in the water pipes and so need to get it all sorted out before Erin Brockovich turns up - so I'm pretty much with-child constantly, however...

Back on the upside, at least it's ONE child who is relatively cruisy and fun and enjoys having adventures out and about, as opposed to TWO kids who, while both fun in their own right, tend to spend every minute together inventing new ways to annoy the will to live out of each other.

Wow. Did you hear that? That was me letting off steam.

On some notable tangents:

- we're finally geared up (translation = henceforth broke as hell) and ready to hit the ski slopes. Well, except for poor Tim, whose knee is still playing up, lessening his desire to put it at risk just yet. But the kids and I at least will be giving it a bash in the next couple of weeks and Tim will hopefully not be too far behind. I've always wanted to be a cool snowboarding type, ever since I read "Snowboarding to Nirvana" some ten years ago, complete with a Tibetan Lama character who busted out gnarley moves while basking in enlightenment.

- there are still some exciting possibilities presenting themselves - some very unexpected, in fact - in the comedy field, I'm just trying not to count my chickens before they hatch, so will hold my cards close for now and try to stop indulging in more metaphoric silliness in the one paragraph.

- I'm looking forward to reading Steve Martin's autobiography as soon as I can get my hands on a copy. This quote in particular seems relevant to my depressing rant the other day: "I have heard it said that a complicated childhood can lead to a life in the arts. I tell you this story (i.e. of how his father beat him as a child) of my father and me to let you know I am qualified to be a comedian."

Zat is all.

PS Last week's column: "Driving Miss Hazy"

If you're interested, naturally.

Baby sometimes words just ain't enough.

If you can overlook the fact she looks just like Kenny from South Park, I think this shot is kinda arty.

One of my favourite photos I've ever taken and I didn't even have to ask her to do anything, I was just gonna photograph the tree when she jumped straight on it. I think there's a lesson there...

And finally, these are my new Snowboots, whom I love. And yes, I said 'whom' and used a capital 'S'. They are my friends and I heart them, so let me be.

Cold, unfeeling grammar-nazis...

On My Teenage Idols

So I'm stuffing around on the internet today and all of a sudden I come across a signature on somebody's comment saying "RIP Jonathan Brandis". I irk. Physically. Is that for real? I google it and there it is.

Jonathan Brandis, of IT, Neverending Story 3 and all-round long-forgotten teen idol over whom both my sister and I used to obsess (is this Comic Mummy coming clean week or what?!), took his own life way back in 2003. Allegedly triggered in part by his dismay at the state of his career. Boy oh boy.

Now, without meaning to negate the obvious tragedy of this horrible occurrence, for now I wish to avoid the obvious depressing reactionary rant to this news and instead share something else that this has led to me contemplatin: some of my other teen celebrity crushes, specifically in the where are they now? sense.

Firstly, Chad Allen - I used to dream of marrying this guy, seriously. He was so clean-cut, but then went so bad boy in that terrible tele-movie about the woman getting her student to kill her husband (I think it co-starred Helen Hunt). He's now making something of a comeback on television and is officially gay, gay, gay.

Wil Wheaton - I loved this guy so badly, I used to rewind the part in Toy Soldiers where he says "I wanna go to sleep man, I wanna dream about Jennifer," over and over. And even though I hate it when people call me Jennifer, Wil Wheaton, shirtless and crucifixed-earringed, made it work. Now? He's writing books as well as a rather popular blog, doing the Star Trek conference circuit and is shacked up with a lady plus step-kids, all of which he seems suitably fond of. In a shameless side-note, he has emailed me before (I nearly screamed) but that's a whole other story.

Scott Weinger - He played DJ's boyfriend on Full House, and I, of course, wanting to be just like DJ (cos as a 10-year-old, wasn't she, like, the coolest girl ev-EEERRRRR?) wanted to have a boytoy just like him. Yum-ness. He's apparently now focusing on the screenwriting thing, no deets on the personal life front.

And finally....

Johnny Depp - Who I've never lost track of and I'm sure I never will.

*said in a very non-stalkerish way*

P.S. You're welcome.

A word from the 5-year-old

Ella: "So adults just wish they could be kids again and kids just wish they could be adults? Everybody just wants to be what they aren't?"

Me: "Yeah, I guess so."

Ella: "Hmm. Well, maybe everybody should just be happy with who they are right when they are that."

Damn, kid.

The Comic Mummy Video Diary Experiment

Absence makes the heart grow fonder

So apparently me and the blog are having some time out from each other of late. So, this being our romantic catch-up date and all, let me sum up life of late in brief:

1. I've discovered the wonder that is The Flight of the Conchords TV show on HBO. If you haven't seen this, then you must, I repeat, MUST get thee to a video shop/amazon pronto and demand a copy. Go on. Stop reading. Just do it.

2. If you're still reading...what the? Get to the video shop!

3. Both Ella and I have been sick the past few days, Ella especially so. Meaning that we both missed out on things we've been looking forward to for ages, hers being the Girl Guides sleepover excursion to the zoo, mine being starting training with Loose Moose. Wah.

4. My mum's "all clear" prognosis was apparently a little premature. She's not in the clear after all and has to have chemo every three months up until the end of 2009. Her condition seems good, she's certainly in good spirits but it still isn't great. Bah.

5. I have half a box of Girl Guide cookies and three books of Preschool raffle tickets to sell by tomorrow. Looks like I'll be introducing myself to half the town, door by door tonight.

Wok'n'woll.

The Great Indoors

So we're all sick. Not MAJORLY sick, just irrating-head-coldy sick. Except for Tim. He's like the Energiser Bunny whose batteries never run out. Or something.

Anyhoo, point is, this, combined with what us Aussies qualify as 'freaking freezing!' weather - yes, the snow has started!!! - we're spending a lot of time inside. And it's already starting to drive the Cay-man batty, which - me being his domino and all - is sending ME batty. As soon as the pond fully freezes over, we can do the ice-skating thing, as soon as the snow's thick enough we can do the tobogganing thing, as soon as we've gotten our butts together and finally collected all the bits of ski equipment we need we can hit the slopes...but until then? We're kinda in no-man's land. Which apparently, is located indoors.

WHAT TO DO?!

In brighter news, I had a gig last night at the Comedy Cave in Calgary, a cute little club situated at the bottom of the Travelodge. I decided to go anyway, headcold and all, as cancelling on your first gig at a new place is not a good look. The second I got there I realised there are some major differences between Australian and Canadian comedy. I'd already been instructed to keep it free of expletives, vulgarity and my keyboard....then I arrived to be told "I don't know how you guys do it in Australia but here, our support acts and our feature acts (i.e. headliners) don't do crowd work."

I looked at him for a moment, checking if he was pulling my leg. "For real?" (I swear, I didn't sound like a rapper as I said that).

He nodded.

"Oh," I said. "Okay. Why is that?"

"That's just the way things are."

"Okay. That's cool. I'll just have to re-think my set."

Cos here's the thing. I LOVE chatting to the audience. Heck, one of my favourite things is taking suggestions from them and making up songs, even getting them up onstage with me. But apparently I'll have to rethink my methodology, at least on the stand-up circuit.

Anyhoo, I worked it out at the last minute - this is where an improv background certainly comes in handy! - and was happy enough with how it went. I also got to meet a couple of other comics including the very impressive headliner Bengt Washburn, whose ability to find a level of connection with a very small and tough crowd was really inspiring.

I'm going to be doing something at Yuk-Yuk's in the next couple of weeks, plus tomorrow I'm finally gonna start training with Loose Moose. I cannot WAIT!

But until then, pass the Tylenol.

Second City and the Just for Laughs Tour

What a rocking - and tiring - weekend.

First off, Saturday saw the much-awaited (by me, at least!) MCing of The Second City's Laughter Gone Wild event at the Banff Centre. After driving through a blizzard to get there, I was very happy to arrive in one piece...thus removing much pressure from the performance. Arrival = alive = good. Anything more from that point I considered a bonus.

I entered the amazing Eric Harvie Theatre (one word: WOW) for my keyboard set-up and soundcheck, then was ushered upstairs into the VIP room to indulge in a drink, mingling and generally feeling cool-ish. I met quite a few very cool and friendly locals (and have subsequently realised how handy it is to have a column in the local paper, when it comes to meeting people in your community. Is that as desperate as it sounds?) and was then introduced to the stars of the night - the cast of the Toronto-based Second City touring company. Moments of chatter later and it was time for the event to begin.

The crowd - somewhere round the 1000 people mark if my guestimate is in any way accurate - was extremely friendly and ready to laugh! After having done a test-run on a couple of local Canadians to ensure my new comedy song "It Ain't Easy Bein' a Grizzly" wasn't going to appal the audience into a state of hatred, I let it rip anyway. I then had the very VERY cool job of introducing the SC crew onto stage...I may well die a happy woman.

They were everything you would expect from Second City - polished, professional, attractive...(teehee). They performed a combo of their 'best of the Second City' sketch range (which was wicked, especially cos last year during my USA trip our Second City tutor had shown us some old videos of a couple of these sketches, so seeing them live just brought a new spin on things), plus some tailor-made wildlife-themed sketches written for the event itself, as well as some improvised pieces. I was completely stoked to see their entire last half of the show was completely improvised. And it was hawt.

Damn it, Mildred, I think the bar's been raised again.

(I don't even know who Mildred is, I just love the thought that someone out there might say that. It's almost two in the morning as I write this. Forgive me.)

Following the show, we headed over to the Banff Centre's on-campus pub, where I indulged in geeking out over improv with them. Had a particularly awesome chat with cast member Christy, who trained for 12 years with Loose Moose right nearby here in Calgary, before moving to Toronto to do the SC thing. So she had lots of great tidbits to share on the differences between the two.

Anyhoo, I could ramble on forever about this crap and it ain't gettin more interesting, particularly if you have no penchant for improv.

THEN...tonight I braved the Canadian highways again and headed on down to Calgary to check out the late show of the Just for Laughs Comedy Tour, featuring a range of some of the best comics in the biz, including Australia's own..da, da, da, da...Fiona O'Loughlin!

As soon as I saw the ad on television, I was all "I am so completely there", cleared it with the hubbster and booked my tix. I enjoyed it so much, the comics were just superb (and a special shout-out to Greg Behrendt, whom you may know either from stand-up, or his writing - he co-penned 'He's Just Not That Into You' and advised on Sex and the City, who has totally inspired me to focus more on storytelling in my comedy) and Fi certainly did the Aussies proud.

I met up with her for a brief congratulatory chat after the show, which must have been a spinout, seeing as last time we were together was way back in Feb at the Bangalow Big Joke Fest. Hopefully we'll meet up again in Montreal come July next year. After tonight, I'm more eager than ever to get my butt there. If only so I can shake it and say "Ooh, la la." (Actually, doesn't that just translate to: "Ooh, the the."???

So yes, as I said, it's WAY past my bedtime.

Adieu. The. The.

How I Met Your Pa

As kindly suggested by rnbuffoon, the following is a full - indeed, possibly overly wordy - account of how I met the giant ball of sometimes-infuriating-yet-mostly-yummy fairy-floss that is my hubbster.

I first heard about Tim about six months before we actually met. My little sister Ang had just changed high schools, and had immediately connected with a gal called Catherine - by all accounts they bonded during a drama class exercise when they had to talk about somebody they missed and both chose to speak of their older sibling (i.e. me for Ang, Tim for Catherine) who had left home for the greener pastures of university. I recall a phone conversation with Ang sometime shortly after, with her telling me how Catherine had spilled her guts over how her bro used to be her best bud and how much she loved him and was gutted out that he was now living a plane ride away. Having only witnessed younger sister/older brother dynamics involving screaming and blowtorches, I was pretty surprised. Wow, I thought. He sounds like something else.

I never really gave it any more thought than that, until half a year later I found myself back in T'ba (that's affectionate/derogatory speak - depending on your mood - for Toowoomba, my hometown), having finished uni, for some much needed recovery time. Which mainly involved listening to way too much Ben Harper and Leonardo's Bride and writing pretentious poetry. Anyhoo, as it turned out, Tim too, had made the move back to Woomby-land (that's another Toowoomba term. If you ever get there, do be sure to use it. Just make sure you footnote me.)

Part of my down-time involved me evaluating my experiences thus far with the whole men thing. After some, let's see, let's just call them 'ridiculous' ventures, I'd decided that at the grand old age of 19, I was fed up with the whole thing. No more would I settle for less! And so, in equally 'ridiculous' fashion, I set forth and wrote a list of not three, not seven, but EVERY quality I wanted in a guy. From "likes poetry" to "appreciates folk music" to "waterskis", I believe the final tally of criteria came in at 103.

Anyhoo, I read them one night to my darling sis, who laughed at me, but then at the end said to me: "That's weird. Do you know who's almost every single one of those?"

Me: "Who?"

Ang: "Tim."

(Note: in fact he wasn't. He couldn't play guitar and had never waterskiied. But we soon remedied that.)

Catherine and Angie, meantime, had become best friends. Indeed, they were inseparable. And I, now having NO friends left in the Woombster (hehe, I made that one up), started to hang out at Cat's place a lot. It's weird, because though I must have gone there at least ten times in the space of a few weeks, not ONE of those times was Tim there. I met the entire remainder of the family - and it's not small - but Tim remained the missing piece of the puzzle, no doubt heightening his enigmatic status in my mind.

The day we did meet, he was sitting on a chair in the loungeroom watching the cricket with the fam. (It remains a favourite past-time in that house, something which I still don't quite understand...) Our meeting wasn't exactly momumental, I think we chatted for about four minutes before I got all nervous and excused myself. Nervous? you say. You? NO! But yes.

We started to hang out, sneaking cigarettes together out the front of his house (which was ridiculous, because we were both legally adults at this point, but somehow the whole 'having parents inside' thing made it seem kinda naughty) and talking about philosophy, life, the universe and everything.

The chats continued, the tension built...and two months later, I was a little over it. Was he NEVER going to make a move? Seriously? Cos if it really wasn't going to happen, I certainly didn't want to waste my time sitting around and waiting for it. (As anybody who knows me at all will verify, patience is not one of my strong points).

Then came the night of the 1998 Pearl Jam concert. Ang and Cat had convinced me to exchange my moshpit ticket with their seated one, with the chance to sit next to Tim as the juicy carrot. After relenting, I vowed to myself that if he didn't make a move tonight - remember, I had given up a MOSH TICKET for this - then that was it. I was moving up and on baby.

We met up before the concert and had a few drinks. Nice. We walked into the stadium and sat down and straight away held hands. Nicer. Then, during the support act, the lead singer called out to the audience "Anybody who's here with someone they like, love, or whatever, I just want you to turn to each other now and give each other a big kiss!" Nicest. I couldn't believe my luck! WOOHOO!

Tim turned to me and smiled. "Well, we can't just kiss because he told us to!"

Be still my sinking heart.

About five minutes later, he reached over and pashed me anyway.

And the rest...va va voom, two kids and an overseas jaunt later...is history.

Best line ever from a kids' show

"Note to skin. Start crawling."

On Wild Life

Okay, so the mood doesn't seem to be taking anybody to share inspiring nuggets. That's cool. No, really. In fact, it makes me feel right at home - my kids are never in that mood either - but if perchance another mood takes you, like the mood to check out my latest column about wildlife, then please, knock yourself out.

Not literally.

That would be weird.

Why can't I go back to (comedy) college?

You know it's a good week when you're spending much of it reciting Bill Cosby lines.

(Well, that's my idea of a good week, I've no idea what that says about my life. Actually, yeah I do.)

I've also been reading the autobiography of Mary Tyler Moore, was BUMMED that our television didn't pick up the channel which screened a doco on Carol Burnett on Monday but comforted myself by stocking up on a couple of wicked comedy books (Canmore Secondhand Bookstore - let us embark on a mad affair) including a self-penned title by Joan Rivers and a couple of classics from the man: Cosby. Who, I've just found out, is still touring madly throughout the States and lengthy non-stop shows at that. And he's, what? 70? Man alive.

Anyhoo, point is, combining reading, writing and watching more comedy in the past month than I've watched in my entire LIFE - I'm getting pretty soaked. As Tim put it: "You've basically come here and you're putting yourself through comedy college!" Yesterday I met up with a very cool dude who lives right here in Canmore - he trained with Second City Toronto back in the eighties, has run improv workshops (in other words, has a real passion for this stuff) and has kinda taken me under his wing a bit. i.e. I think I've found a mentor. Anyway, all this has resulted in a whirlpool of nuggets of wisdom that are, as I type, swimming around at a maddening pace in my muddled little mind. Aaah.

So what I now would like to know is...what are some of yours? i.e. the words/quotes/advice/tips/wisdomly chocolate chips that fire up your belly? I don't want to ask for your 'top inspirational tidbit of all time' because how can we possibly quantify or rank this stuff? But one thing I love more than anything is finding out what fires people up. So if you have anything or anything to share...

If you're in the mood, spill it baby.

FINALLY.

I'm finally pumped.

1. Last night, FINALLY met up with some comedic types here in Canmore, one of whom trained with Second City Toronto back in the day. I am so, like, totally excited about this.

2. Today, FINALLY, we bought a car. Meaning I can now go back and forth to Calgary at will, meaning I can now:

a) train with Loose Moose Theatre, the delay of which - due to nothing other than transport issues - has been driving me to the point of madness;

b) pursue gigs in Calgary, Banff and wherever else; and

c) our family can now go on some day trips and longer road trips to broaden our Canadian experience!

3. For the first time, I FINALLY watched a full stand-up show of Bill Cosby's. DAMN. The man is my hero. That is all. (And, I just found out, he'll be doing a show right near Toronto in June next year...I am dying to book tix right this second but should just wait until our plans for 2008 become a little clearer).



4. This very night I FINALLY got my hands on a copy of Jerry Seinfeld's documentary Comedian which Greg Sullivan urged me to watch many moons ago. Man alive, I am so completely in love with comedy again, despite its nuttiness, narcissism and never-ending agony.

Two quotes in particular, stood out to me (both of which I am paraphrasing):

Jerry: "I used to write just one or two nights a week. Then one day I noticed these construction workers heading back to work after their lunch break and I suddenly thought 'Well, THEY don't feel like going back to work, but they are. So if they can show that level of dedication and commitment to their work, then why shouldn't I?'"

And finally, from the man, Bill Cosby himself: "That's the greatest thing a performer can say at the end of their life. 'I took what I had...and I knocked it outta the park."

Don't nag Mummy before her morning coffee!

Farethee well, Jack-o-Lantern

Well, it's a done deal.

We've decorated, we've partied, we've written a column about it (well, okay, I did that bit - and how's that for a not-so-subtle plug?) and after tonight, we've trick-or-treated too.

Once they got the hang of the whole thing, the kids were like roided up athletes, fighting for the Olympic gold. They quickly worked out the house codes:

Lights on = candy.

Pumpkins = possibly lots of candy.

Lights off = don't waste your time, just pump those legs and get cracking to the next one before they run out.

I couldn't believe how much effort some people put into decorating their houses - one house even went so far as to transform their entire back garage into a haunted house of sorts, complete with spooky lighting, music and live action ghouls. The kids were freaked out until Mr Skeletor handed them lollypops at the end. If only Hannibal Lector had done the same to me during Silence of the Lambs maybe I coulda saved myself a decade of nightmares.

Ah well.

Until we meet again dear Halloween. It's been fun.