Communication Problems

Here's the thing: I can hardly understand a thing my son says.

Oh sure, we end up working it out - via a flurried combo of flailing arm gestures, Ella taking on translator-duties and Caleb taking on all-out tantrums - but sometimes just the fact that I haven't a clue what he's on about makes me feel like the only right I have to the 'mother' badge is to use it to pin my forehead with a 'LOSER' sign.

For instance:

Caleb: "Muuuma wooot doin waahflaches."

Me: "What am I what?"

Caleb: "Wooot doin waahflaches."

Me: "Uh...."

Cue me nodding enthusiastically.

Me: "Yeah! That's right!"

Cue Caleb catching onto my evil deception - manifested in a choreographed sequence of stomping feet that would probably score him a part in Riverdance, should he ever feel inclined to apply.

Caleb: "NOOOO!!!!"

Me: "What?"

Caleb: (yelling) "WOOOOT DOO-IN WAAAAAAHHHh-FLAKES."

Me: "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're saying."

Cue more screaming, etc etc etc until a moment of distraction is discovered and seized.

For instance:

Me: "Hmm, I'm not sure about that, but check out this awesome PLASTIC SPOON!"

Caleb: "Yay!"

A beat.

Caleb: "Muuuma wooot doin waahflaches pas-tika pooon?"

Walk On

I was listening to this U2 song this morning on the good old radio (seeing as our entire collection of CDs got left in Melbourne when we moved from there a couple of years ago - it's a long story and one that makes me sad to recount. Ergo...I'll move on shall I?) and it got me thinking.

One of the BEST things I learned in terms of watching stand-ups, improvisers and other performers in the States was how the best ones have an incredible ability to let go of the previous moment and move forward to the next. i.e. if a joke bombs or they don't get as huge a laugh as they might have hoped for, they don't waste time beating themselves up about it and thus let it ruin the rest of their performance purely by thinking 'I'm crap and the audience hates me'...they just forget about it, 'walk on' and put 100% into the next bit.

Which seems not only a good lesson in performance terms (I'm actually trying to put it into practice right now, having just finished an audition which I have no idea as to whether it was a grand golden nugget or a squishy dog turd) but in terms of life.

Cos - and here's where I get gorgonzola-like - I like to think of a moment of failure like a piece of chewing gum that you've dropped on the footpath.

Now, the fact is you've dropped it. You can't change that. But...you do have a choice as to where to from here.

You can either :
- pick it up, put it in the bin and then keep on walking; OR
- step on it, and continue walking - but then your entire walking experience is lessened by the fact that you have disgusting gum on your shoe making you stick to the footpath. That, and now your breath stinks.

Okay, a sucky metaphor, but one that should be chewed over. (Hehe, sorry I'm having one of those 'dad joke' days).

Anyway, the point is, in the words of Bono:
WALK ON!!!!

Jenny's self-help book "The Chewing Gum Within: Finding the Taste that Really Lasts" will be available from all half-decent book stores in 2007. Each book comes with a free packet of Spearmint - so you can freshen your breath and your zest for life in the one sweet movement. Hurry: only while stocks last.

Ladies Luncheons and Mojo

That's it. I'm only EVER doing gigs where the audience is 98% female and 98% full of champagne.

In other words...Friday rocked. I'm in love with MCing. Mind you, I've had it on very good authority from some other (excellent and esteemed) comics that corporates suck the big one, and I'll be the first to admit that MCing a charity gig - complete with the conditions specified above - that my introduction to this world was rather sugar-coated. But for now...I'm gonna go with 'it rocked'.

Amongst the moments worth mentioning was apparently finding a fan in the form of a quite well-to-do CEO of a major club, who was herself quite the performer. In all her 'happy' state, she alternated between gushing over my dimples and humour "But YOU....YOU are FUNNY!" and doing impersonations of Col Elliot.

Weird.

Still, she made me chuckle and even better, said that she wanted to book me for her club's Christmas party. So whether that was the pink champagne talking (I jokingly suggested the function should be changed from "Think Pink" to "Drink Pink") time will tell.

But overall...fun, fun, fun. To complete the picture for you, the setting was a gorgeous club right on the beach, with tables decorated with pink everything - pink bows, pink gift boxes and endless bottles of pink champagne.

Basically, as I told the crowd, it was like the wedding my husband would never let me have.

Ahh...and speaking of the hub-ster, we managed to convince the grandfolks to take the kids overnight on Saturday - so we could have our first child-free quality time in MONTHS (please, for any of you out there without kiddly-winks, please do savour the space - and the lack of poo in your life, but that's a whole other story) and it rocked.

We bushwalked, drank wine, had our hangovers by 4 in the afternoon, thus allowing time for our second wind in the night, checked out the Grape and Groove Festival, walked around the city, went and saw "An Inconvenient Truth" (which you MUST SEE NOW - there you go, there's my duty to humankind done for the day) and then the best of all....slept in.

So you will hopefully understand why the update on the Friday gig has been a little late in coming. But not for a lack of wanting - I do apologise. But I was busy...getting my mojo back baby!!!

Yeee-haw!

Welcome to the World of Corporate Entertainment

My first corporate gig as MC tomorrow - WOOHOO!!

I have longed for this day for...well, 'as long as I can remember' is overkill, but for a while, t' be sure! (Sorry, that's a hangover from International Talk Like a Pirate Day.)

But anyway, I'm excited. And nervous. But mostly just relieved that I've finally cracked it. From what I've heard, when it comes to corporate stuff - like grants - once you've gotten one, it opens the door for more. I certainly hope so, anyway.

Plus I've also been booked to do a roving Eddie from Ab Fab at another corporate event on Melbourne Cup Day in November.

And, to top off the coolities (please help me make this a real word), we've somehow managed to swindle a child-free night away (our first one since the Byron trip all the way back in February) this Saturday.

Sweetie!

Wish me luck!

The Stuff I Didn't Tell You About the USA trip

So here's the deal: I've spent the past near-month beginning to digest the whole trip - no easy task, I assure you. The only times I actually HAVE processed even parts of it are when I've been talking to other people (hi Ash!) and even then, I have barely scraped the surface.

The point is, it was near impossible to document all of this in the mere minutes per day I had available to blog - so I thought I'd do my standard Readers' Digest version of some of the stuff that DIDN'T get mentioned on the blog:

Not Getting to Do Everything: BOOHOO!!!!!

One of the biggest things I struggled with overseas was the frustration of only getting to the tip of the iceberg in everything, or to be more specific:

- sightseeing;
- comedy seeing;
- improv seeing;
- new material writing;
- blogging;
- personal journal writing;
- postcard writing;
- everything in between!

It seems like my biggest lesson on the trip was just realising that at some point you need to accept that you cannot do everything. In fact, that was but one of many life lessons I learned on the trip - as Daena (my solo improv coach) said to me "This is an incredible journey for you to be taking. But remember, it's not just a physical journey, it's a personal one too." Oh, was it ever.

A Personal Journey

You see, since I became a mother some 4 (very) odd years ago, I have had absolutely NO extended period of time alone to digest my own crap. So suddenly having three and a half weeks just to focus on me....well, I guess stuff was bound to come up. And did it ever! I won't go into details cos some of it's quite personal, but suffice to say that the first week in particular, (which, as well as the solo improv coaching, seemed to evolve into a type of one-on-one masterclass in acting) was like a colonoscopy for the soul. Hmmm...now that I think about it, that sounds like a title for a chain of books: Colonoscopy for the Grandma's Soul, Colonoscopy for the Teenager's Soul, Colonoscopy for the Burned Out Comedian's Soul...

Life Without The Kids

I cried like a baby the first night I got into New York. Seriously - my eyes were so red I was terrified to leave my hotel room lest I be mistaken for a stoned Aussie tourist, thereby being mugged, bashed and left to rot in an alley. That, added to the fact that I couldn't get in touch with the fam for THREE DAYS (which, if it's the first time you've ever left the little blighters for more than a couple of nights and you're on the opposite side of the globe, feels like having Mariah Carey shoved down your throat...while she's singing), rendered me a wreck.

BUT...once I'd spoken to them on the phone, heard that they were happy, and even heard the odd tantrum (whereupon I was actually super-thrilled to be half a world away), it was sweet. I basically got to a point of thinking "well, I can either waste this time feeling all misery guts, OR I can just savour the fact that I've got my arms free, heavens knows when that's ever gonna happen again, and make the most of every minute!"

So I went with that. And it worked rather well.

That said, the moment I saw them again when I got back from Oz, I cried. Yes, I know - I'm a dork.

The Highlight of the Trip

Without a doubt, this was working with Michael Pollock. He's the Musical Director of LA's Second City and Improv Olympic, and is one of those rare people who is not only a genius at what he does (i.e. improvised musical comedy) but is an absolute genius at teaching it.

More than anything, working with him just completely fired me up to get better at musical improv and to incorporate it more into my comedy full-stop. That, and performing in Las Vegas totally rocked. And he gave me amazing feedback. Followed by incredible hospitality in LA. Followed by giving me his manuscript for his next book, notes'n'all.

Seriously, my world will never be the same.

***
There you go, don't you feel better now? I know I do.

DUDE.

Kids Musical CDs vs Mama

So we're spending the morning dancing like lunatics to this kids' CD that my dad got for my daughter - it's one of those 'personalised' ones where they insert said child's name into every song at regular intervals.

"Let's Pretend, Ella!"
"What's Your Favourite Colour, Ella?"
"I think You're Special, Ella!"

Oh yes, it all started as fun and games...til I began to feel a little threatened. Ain't no CD gonna give my kid more love and attention than me...

Now the obvious solution would be to focus on giving more love and attention - I however, prefer the road less travelled.

That CD's gotta burn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(No pun intended. Seriously.)