You Probably Think This Blog Is About You

Get over it already. Cheez-its GRAPES, be an adult, would you?

The only thing I can suggest is to take a really honest look at yourself (you can't) and go get some counseling with a real counselor (you won't). Tell that counselor what you think is wrong with everybody around you. And if that counselor is bilking you they'll tell you exactly what you want to hear and you'll come back. Or if that counselor is worth a damn they will listen to your tales of woe and martyrdom and ask you to do two things...

1) Fill in the holes where you should have told them what YOU did to other folks;

and

2) Find the common thread to the downturn of all those damaged relationships.

The only constant in every relationship of yours is YOU.

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MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT

On The Language of Parenting

An outbound trip's preparation, as the parent of an infant, is very close to a conversation between two people in the throes of hallucinogenic bliss.

Examples? I have a...

"We can't leave yet, I can't find Blue Bear."

"It should be in the bucket, where's the baby?"

"In the bucket, Blue Bear is nowhere. I have Flat

Dog and Power Rattle."

"What about SqueakyMoose?"

"He's on the hook, he never leaves."

"Well get RedStar Munch and we'll just skip Blue

Bear."

"Blue Bear always goes."

"He won't know, he'll be asleep in the bucket before we get to the donut."

"If he freaks you gotta get him RedStar or FlatDog, he can't go Avatar like last time."

"Duh. Go warm up the Swagger, and take the bucket. We gotta get to MeMe's."

Such is my blessed, shiny life.

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Do Me A Flavor

The past year of living in Los Angeles has been weird. I've grown a lot as a person. I've had to learn to ask, persevere, promote, and deliver comedy in weirder situations than I've ever been in. That includes the time I did comedy in a cut-out of a wall over a bar, standing on a 12-inch ledge. And everything I've done in Tukwila.

I read a book earlier this year called "The Go Giver." My friend & helper-angel Ann turned me on to it. The premise of the story is that when you can, Help. It greatly changed the way I look at helping, being helped, and the entire WHAT Helping Is. A subtext that I picked up on is that there's a BIG BIG BIG OPRAH EGO-HUGE difference between Helping, and Imposing Your Will With Best Intentions.

Somebody offering to swing a hammer to erect your weekend bone-shed, that's a Helper. They are there to help you get Your thing done.

Somebody bringing a set of blue-prints and one shovel and asking you "Why are you doing it that way? Shouldn't the drain be in the middle of the floor? Are these walls sound-proof? What grade are the leather restraints?" That's a NiceHole. They are coming to help you get things done the way they would like them to be done.

And if you question their intention, up their own ass they go, pursing their lips and saying "Well...
I WAS ONLY TRYING TO HELP."

Would you let somebody pay for your groceries for a month?
If it meant they got to do all the shopping, also?

Would you let somebody buy you a car?
If it meant they chose it, but you had to gas and insure it?

Would you let somebody get you a job that paid pretty well?
If it meant you didn't know what the job entailed?

I believe deeply in helping somebody when you can, simply because you can. It just MIGHT put you out, but you can handle it. Not talkin' kidney-donation, or even any kind of organ trade.
But never, ever helping somebody "on your terms." There is help, then there is Politicking.

Nobody elected you to be a Friend.

Give. Or Get. Graciously.

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Please... ssshhhhh

It doesn't take much for my Stimulometer, the -ometer that measures stimuli, to start red-lining. I'm either hyperobservant, a snob, oversensitive, hungover, or all of the above. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes I really want to wear earplugs throughout my day. I hear a lot of insipid blather, and not the fun kind that makes you think "ooh, a conversation about, like, Mark's party. Exactly what I need right now and later."

My brain runs almost all the time. And lately I'm trying to communicate more openly. Not just in being forthcoming and non-judgmental and calm, but also honest about my emotions in the event that the emotions can make a difference one way or the other if they're brought up. Turns out...

they always can. Al. Ways.

So sometimes, when I want the world to shut up, I have to do so, first.
But the world here owes me nothing. I owe the planet quite a few things.

First off, I accidentally kicked a dude's chair last night while crossing my legs at the 9:10 of "KUNG FU PANDA," and I should have apologized for it. I didn't. I owe him one.

There's more, but for now... I just want quiet. I want peace. And quiet. In a bubble around me. I want no more questions about anything. I want to do what I have to go do, and not be asked what I'm doing, about to do, or just did. I need it. My brain needs to not be bothered by a question whose answer is not vital to the continued life of the asker. No, I don't need cracked pepper. Yes, I was next. No, that's not enough ice. Yes, really... I'd like the dressing ON THE SIDE.

I'm going now to drill a Valerian, go through old clothes until I get "Courtney Love in court" woozy, then climb into bed and put in my earplugs.

Hey World, seriously... help me out a little. Find out what "fiduciary" means elsewhere, I'm not your Wiki.

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You are what you is

The other day a friend of mine was asking me a lot of questions about a bunch of goings-0n outside of my spheres. People I only kind-of knew, peripherally, were the topic.

What were they up to? Where were they working? Why didn't they ever come by? Did they not like (my friend)? Did (my friend) do something to piss 'em off?

Eventually I had to ask, "Don't you think you're being a little paranoid?"

His response?
"Why? Did somebody say something?"

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