Friday, June 11, 2004
9:47 PM
I often question my existence and the reality of being a stand-up comedian. Then, like clockwork, something happens perfectly that reinforces my decision to make people laugh. And I retell the story on stage in front of strangers throughout the country.

While I was working on the computer, which can now be considered my 18-year-old sister's since it's in her dark purple bedroom, she came home with a couple the same age. They sat on her bed while she got ready for work. I asked who they were and I vaguely knew the girl. I gathered that the guy was her boyfriend based on the use of "we" when talking about where they lived.

My sister was in the bathroom just next to her bedroom and the doors were open in both, so conversation could take place easily between us. Then, from the far end of the hallway, came my mother's voice.

"Scott, are you alone?" she asked, apparently having heard myself, Lauren and her friends talking.

Just then, Lauren stuck her head out of the bathroom and saw my mom hobbling down the hall.

"He is, but Melissa and Tim are here, too. Put a shirt on," Lauren said to mom.

"Don't worry," Melissa yelled from her seat on Lauren's bed while she also tried to avoid a licking tirade from our new dog, Chelsie. "We'll just close the door."

The door swung closed and I heard my mom walk past. I then opened the door to see if she had a shirt off for real. And she did as she made her way to the kitchen.

"Hold on a minute," I announced to everyone who cared, "Why does it matter if I was alone? There is never a good time to see your 52-year-old mother without a shirt."

Now I will admit that mom looks great after losing almost a hundred pounds from gastric bypass surgery. But still, that's no reason to walk shirtless past her children and their friends. If we lived in the south, this kind of thing might be acceptable. But we don't, so it's very unacceptable.

"And you should know better," I continued. "I would never bring anyone in this house. It's always a mess, there is no family television, and now my mom's parades through the joint topless."

I would venture to guess that Tim and Melissa won't be back anytime soon. And I hope that I'm also as fortunate.

Wednesday, June 09, 2004
3:05 AM

This is our new dog, Chelsie, making herself comfortable on the kitchen floor. She's about 40 pounds, so her jumping on me is more like a fly bugging me compared to the jumps of the over 90-pound Pepper.

At least when I stay at Cyndi's I have this fun-loving, free-spirted cat to keep me company.

If you pulled the couch out from under Chellie, she would hover like a giant inflatable float in the Macy's Parade.

Monday, June 07, 2004
2:31 AM
My life is nothing if it's not saturated with self-induced drama. Here's the latest. Hypothetically speaking, let's say you ask your ex to stay at her place. She's in the suburbs for the weekend and her place is in the city. You used to live with her, never paying rent but cleaning the place thoroughly instead. You both cheated on each other but, for some unknown reason, keep in touch and continue to hang out - as "friends" with the occasionally benefits.

One of your best friends who knows your ex is in the city working as are you, which is the main reason you're staying at her place. This friend also has an agreement, in principal, to move-in with your ex, solely as a means to save money for both. Your friend is married, but his spouse won't be moving to the city for six months. Your friend knows of your dysfunctional relationship with your ex, so there is no concern about them sleeping together, even though your ex and his wife have the same name.

You stay the night at your ex's and tell your friend he can stay, too. The same thing happens the next night. You leave your ex a message on her cell phone at 2 a.m. of the second morning, mentioning that you and a best friend are at her place. Upon hearing the message early that morning, your ex is livid and calls you, questioning your "bringing in people off the street" to stay at her place. You maintain that you didn't think she'd mind based on the fact that your friend of twelve years would be her roommate in a few short weeks. More over, your ex had a eventful weekend of severe highs and lows. She attended a wake for a former co-worker killed in a car accident and the next night went to a wedding for two former co-workers from the same job as the wake. The last thing you thought she had time for was a call asking if her future roommate can crash on the couch simply to alleviate excessive travel to and from the city. He would otherwise take a train from the city to the suburbs and endure nearly two hours of travel time round-trip.

Feeling that she is totally over-blowing the whole situation, you become quite upset. You truly had no idea that she would react in such a way. You apologize for her being fumed, but can say nothing more to quell her wrath and are now late for work.

She firmly feels that you disrespected her and her home. However, your aching body and tired eyes think differently. Why? Because you had surprised your ex - again for some unknown reason - by spending about three hours cleaning virtually her entire place - washing at least two months worth of dishes and taking out five bags of trash; cleaning her bathroom resembling the cleanliness of a one-stall, one-sink shitter in central Idaho; making her normally unmade bed; and preparing her a quart of her favorite non-alcoholic beverage, Lipton iced tea. Still, she's pissed and doesn't acknowledge your doings over the phone. You get to work, ask a few co-workers, some male and some female, their thoughts on the situation. They concur with you that you were okay in what you did, even though a call may have made it all okay, and that she was over-reacting.

What do you think? Please e-mail your thoughts and I will surely post them for my on-line Soap Opera fans to read.