Yesterday was my last day for physical therapy. My PT showed me how to use a kitchen plunger to break up scar tissue on my left hip and told me to try it at home. That was not a good idea.
1. I’m ADD
2. Plungers leave hickeys
3. They also stick really well.
I’m a married woman covered in hickeys with a plunger stuck to my left hip. I am not long for this world.
“How do you separate the hyperbole from reality when you are with other comics?”
It depends entirely on the location and the relationship. If we’re friends we’re real. But we’re not always really friends, sometimes we’re just peers.
I can’t believe you know so-and-so! That is so cool!
No, I don’t know them.
But they are on your Facebook and you have pictures with them!
Sigh.
Being peers with someone, running into each other once or twice a year and photo ops, does not equal “Knowing” them. I get to meet a lot of cool people as a writer and as a comic, but that doesn’t mean we are friends. I am at best an acquaintance with some of them and just a fan for most others. A good example of that is somewhere in this vast world are photos of me with Johnny Cole and Huey Lewis, but it doesn’t mean we are friends or even know each other. The back story to those photos is the questionably legal introduction and being sent home by Mr. Lewis because he rightly assessed that while I might be of legal age, I really wasn’t that bright (defined as I was too naive for my own good) and my cute self and barely there black dress definitely did not belong in front of their hotel in downtown Detroit back in 1987. My enthusiasm for meeting Mr. Cole surpassed all common sense, not to mention several city ordinances. Mr Lewis was a much-needed voice of reason and protected me from knowing more than I had bargained for. So, I have photos that prove we met, but that doesn’t mean we know each other. Thank God.
The false belief of knowing someone happens a lot today. We read news stories, books, Tweets, Facebook statuses, blogs and we gain this false sense of personal intimacy. We come to believe that we really know said person, when in actuality we don’t. Not really anyway. I’ll admit that I’ve been guilty of that myself. True intimacy requires more than just internet snippets. True intimacy requires face time, honesty, humility, and mutual transparency. True intimacy is a commitment.
The word intimacy can really be broken down into three words: Into Me See.
Even though I’ve lived in 12 step rooms since I was 12 and been telling my story from a podium since I was 14, it’s my inner most circle that knows the really real me. They know the whiny sometimes feeling put upon raised an only child who says yes as quickly as she says no for all of the wrong reasons. The sometimes kind to a fault, wishes she had more of a spine when it counted me. They are the committed, tried, true, trusted, and wholly loved individuals that trudge this road of happy destiny. True to life for all of us, other people just get glimpses behind the curtain from time to time.
A behind the curtain glimpse for you guys – I don’t use comedy to cope, I don’t tell jokes about actual people I know (unless I have their permission), and it’s my faith (messy and crayola scribbled that it is) that gets me through life.
While I have been guilty of perhaps “over sharing” some of my recent health issues on my private Facebook page at the request of several long distance friends who are going through the same thing, I do tend to keep the private out of the personal. Most of my stories and jokes are actually a conglomerate of events and people. The theme and overall message are the same, I’ve just changed it up enough that the guilty are protected.
I’m the same way with my comedy, I never tell jokes about individual people per se’, I do however write and tell jokes about circumstances and events that crack me up. Unless I have someone’s permission up front to include them in my jokes, I don’t. Even my doctor jokes are a conglomerate of several people and focus on the awkwardness of the situations caused by aging, than the physician himself. For those of us old enough to remember Phyllis Diller, her husband “fang” wasn’t real either. She made up a persona that skyrocketed her to stardom.
There are a few things that have been said to me recently that I would really like to speak to today if you don’t mind.
1. If I lived your life, I’d smoke too. — Said by my cardiologist last year based on a 5 minute conversation. No, you wouldn’t. I smoke today (on and off) because I’ve been smoking since I was 17. I’m addicted. Smoking because of life circumstances is a cop out, call it what it is. I’m an addict prone to selfishness on occasion and tend to self destruct when feeling overwhelmed, it really is that simple.
2. I suppose being a stand up comic is a great coping mechanism — Not really. I don’t use comedy to cope. I use it to entertain, to show people the underbelly of life sometimes thereby making people think and to help bring levity to life circumstances. I find that when I use comedy as a coping mechanism or even a shield (as I’m sometimes prone to do) my humor becomes barbed and has a toxic bite. I don’t want that. I want people to feel good when leaving my show instead of feeling dirty. You know?
3. It’s my faith in something bigger than me, that helps me cope — While it was my mother who taught me how to say bedtime prayers, I really learned how to pray reading Judith Blume’s “Are You There God, it’s Me Margaret?” For those of you who are unfamiliar with that book, let me just say it’s a book about a young girl who wasn’t changing quickly enough to suit herself and she talked to God about it, daily, as if he were her friend. If that isn’t the story of my life.
The older I get the less willing I am to put God in some kind of black and white box. The more research I do on religion and spirituality, the more I realize that the debates out there aren’t about proving God is real or the facts surrounding history, so much as they are proving who is the smartest. I used to listen in on the modern debates between pastors and I get frustrated at the direction things go. There are too many egos out there for me today. If even the greatest scholars of today (and yesterday) can’t nail down the facts, I’m not about to try.
I just know today when it comes to knowing me — the really real me, I have this power greater than myself that I choose to call God. It’s that relationship that trumps all others. The one that sees through all my stuff and meets me exactly where I am no matter how messy, how confused, scared, sometimes lost, angry or happy I really am. Sometimes I lose faith and hope and ask to borrow a friend’s for a few days. That’s okay as well. It doesn’t matter to me if this relationship doesn’t make sense to others. It’s wholly mine. And I like it. It’s a relationship that is as real to me as the end of my nose, covered in Grace and Love, and Peace. It’s a relationship where instead of my pulling back the curtain for a glimpse, he tore it for a full view.
I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am wholly loved and fully known by the God of the universe – that’s all I need to know. That is how I cope.
Wishing all of my American readers a very happy Thanksgiving.
“I am a citizen of the United States. I am protected by the First Amendment. I can say what ever I want, where ever I want without repercussion!”
Really? No you aren’t and no you can’t. There is such a thing as unintended consequences.
All the First Amendment promises us is freedom from Government interference. No where does it state we are free from the repercussions of our employers or our customers. Remember the Chic Fil a fiasco? I’m not saying I agree or disagree with his statements, what I am saying is our customers pay attention to what we say every place we say it. Christians cried “persecution” when a select group of customers called for a boycott. Even as a Christian myself, I find the cry hypocritical as the SBC boycotts Disney. Where Mr. Cathy’s first amendment rights were violated is when government officials started putting sanctions on his place of business in Boston and other cities. Lesson learned in that is customers watch everything we say and do in regards to our company brands.
So do our employers.
A friend of mine from Atlanta brought this story to my attention today: Woman fired for using the N-word on her Facebook page. Apparently a young gal who works for a medical office used the N-Word on her “private” Facebook wall on Tuesday night referring to our President. Then she called somebody else that same word. Her posts went viral by morning. Because she works for a medical facility, people expressed concern : One email to 11Alive asked, “Are African-Americans safe at this office? Does this young lady care for African-Americans as she does all patients?” These posts were brought to the attention of her employer and she was terminated immediately.
I don’t blame them. She hurt their image. Right or wrong, she gave people the impression that their medical care was in jeopardy. They really had no choice in the matter.
Reputations are hard-earned and easily lost.
There is no such thing as a PRIVATE SOCIAL NETWORK. Everything we type via Twitter, Facebook, Blogs, has the potential to be an international broadcast.
I remember the days of working in IT and email was the newest big thing. Everyone thought their email accounts were their private matter. Boy were they shocked when people started getting fired over the inflammatory remarks made against management. People were also shocked to discover that emails are legal documents and can be used in courts of law. Emails created on company servers belong to the company not the individual. The same goes for every social network we use.
RINSE WASH REPEAT
Is that fair? Some would argue no. Is it reality? A thousand times yes. I’m married to a corporate vice president. Several of his employees and co-workers have access to my blog, my twitter even my Facebook – a lot of us are on the same racing team. I am part of my husband’s “brand.” Knowing that, I need to be mindful of everything I type and post (this includes photographs). I honestly blow it some days and have to go back and clean it up. Even so I do my best to keep his audience (employer) in mind when I post.
I also choose to be a performer today, that makes me a commodity, which brings me to Branding. I have my own brand that I am growing and protecting. As is true with most performers, I can be a drama queen. Everything I post has the potential to grow or hurt my career. The First Amendment does not protect me from the unintentional consequences of customer perception. Customers, past and present will and do look at everything I say and do on the internet and they will decide for themselves whether or not they want to do business with me. That is their choice and their right. That is not bad news.
I have full control over my internet reputation.
So do you. We, as business owners and artists need to filter what we do on the web through our brand. Will this post help or hurt my business? That’s not being a hypocrite, it’s being a good business person. Remember every thing we do has the potential to go international. Got a strong political or religious opinion, a fetish, a yen for world domination, unless it’s part of your Brand save that stuff for private conversations with your real inner circle. Keep it off the net. Very few artists get away with extreme brands. Even people like Anne Lammot and Brad Stine pay a price for their views. It works for them. Their political views are part of their brand. They can afford it, most of us cannot.
Literally, every point-of-contact is an opportunity to create a positive brand impression—if you are intentional. — Michael Hyatt
My little slice of cyberspace isn’t big enough to write everything I know about branding and freedom of speech and while I do not intend this post to be a commercial, I am going to refer you to the man who taught me everything I know about branding today — Micheal Hyatt spoke at our Christian Comedy Association conference in June of 2012. He’s written a new book called Platform: Get Noticed in a Noisy World.
Leaders are platform builders.
We need to take ownership of our business reputations and platforms. This book will help.
Now go out there. Have fun, and remember you aren’t paranoid, everyone really is watching.
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
The 5 First Amendment Freedoms
Speech – The First Amendment says that people have the right to speak freely without government interference.
Press – The First Amendment gives the press the right to publish news, information and opinions without government interference. This also means people have the right to publish their own newspapers, newsletters, magazines, etc.
Religion – The First Amendment prohibits government from establishing a religion and protects each person’s right to practice (or not practice) any faith without government interference.
Petition -The First Amendment says that people have the right to appeal to government in favor of or against policies that affect them or that they feel strongly about. This freedom includes the right to gather signatures in support of a cause and to lobby legislative bodies for or against legislation.
Assembly -The First Amendment says that people have the right to gather in public to march, protest, demonstrate, carry signs and otherwise express their views in a nonviolent way. It also means people can join and associate with groups and organizations without interference.
[hahy-pur-buh-lee]
Have you ever tried to tell a joke to someone and have them stare at you like you have a third eye? Me too. I’m amazed at how many people do not recognize hyperbole from reality, especially when it comes to humor. In light of that recent discovery, I want to clarify a few points for my literalistically thinking friends and followers. (I’m pretty sure I made that word up, but you know what I mean.)
While my girlfriends and I love to talk about Johnny Depp, we’re not about to leave our husbands for him. He’s a brilliant actor for sure, but that’s all. And if you still do not understand the nuances of hyperbole, go read some Anne Lamott. She is a strong influence on my writing style today.
I did not really go buy a little black dress, red lipstick and fish-net stockings when I read “Follow me and I will make you fishers of men.” That is what we call a joke. All references to my “catch and release program” in Fishers of Men simply refer to how insecure, clingy and naive I was in my younger years.
Even though I think they are charming as heck, cowboys do not really give me the hiccups. Yes I did blush and giggle the very first time I met one, however, I like the simplicity and manners that comes with these guys. They make it safe and easy to be a woman. And let’s face it, something about being called “darlin” touches my heart. I never had that growing up and I’ve learned to enjoy it today. It’s when they stop calling me darlin’ that I worry.
A walking lobotomy is simply a phrase I use to describe how easily I can throw my IQ out the window when it comes to certain men. When I was younger (much much younger), if our eyes met across a crowded room and my heart started doing 280, chances are they either had a flask in their pocket or a criminal record. Or in the case of that blue-eyed wonder I met in front of the Sears Tower back in 1987, both.
I did not really hire a stunt double for my annual exam – again that was a JOKE.
I am not a stay home wife anymore. I am a self-employed comic, speaker, actress, artist and freelance writer. Having my personal office in my home is not that same as “staying home.” I am not a bored housewife taking artsy fartsy classes to pass the time. I’m an artist striving to improve my craft. I left my career in telecommunications to raise my family and care for a child with epilepsy. I’m very proud of both of my children and have no regrets. In order for me to return to telecom, I’d have to go back to college and start over. I figured if I was going to start over at my age, why not do something I’m good at and enjoy.
Contrary to popular belief, I am still married – to the same man I met back in 1988 (not the Sears Tower dude). We love each other a great deal and are comfortable enough with each other and our relationship to acknowledge that certain Hollywood stars are dreamy. He’s into Meg Ryan, Goldie Hawn, Emma Stone, and a few others. His tastes run more towards natural beauty than flash. I like that. The fact that I sometimes write jokes about cowboys, Hollywood bad boys, and my previous dating disasters does not in any way shape or form bother him. If it did, I would write about something else entirely. My husband reads my blog every week. I do not write anything that would shock or amaze him. We’ve been together since December 3, 1988. There isn’t a man alive who knows me better than he does.
He knows if I’m laughing and cutting up with a man, it’s no big deal. He knows that taking me to see a Johnny Depp or Robert Downey Jr flick is no big deal either.
I know not to go see Magic Mike or read 50 Shades of Grey. That would not sit well.
He knows if I’m rendered silent in the presence of a man (and yes that does still happen to me at times, I’m 47 and very human and if you say that has never happened to you, well I think you are lying.) or avoid someone like the plague – just trust that and move on.
And for all my girlfriends who texted me Monday night telling me to change the channel to the CMA’s – I know that the first Monday night football game of the season is on and there is no way I’m going to be able to convince that man to change the channel for five minutes just so I can watch Luke Bryan dance.
Have mercy.
Him: Deana, why do you like muscle cars so much?
Me: Dukes of Hazzard, duhn!
He pinches the bridge of his nose so hard after asking me questions like that, he gives himself a migraine. You’d think he’d learn by now.
I am an on again off again smoker. Quitting for good is the hardest thing I’ve ever attempted. My problem is I actually enjoy it. I will get there. Brad Stine is one of my favorite comics of all time. He tells the truth in such a humorous way that it is difficult to be offended. I needed the laugh.
Video courtesy of THE GRABLE GROUP.
I had a chance to meet one of my favorite Christian singers a few years back, but I was too busy evangelizing one of the volunteers and I missed the meet and greet.
You see, I had taken my family to see this man perform at a local church and when I walked in with my boys a gentlemen stepped in front of me and shoved a flier in my hands. I read it when I sat down and discovered it was an invitation to this singer’s senior citizens cruise later that fall. I didn’t make anything of it, figuring he had to give them to everyone. I was after all only 43 at the time.
Then my husband arrived. He tried to take a flier out of this man’s hand and do you know he said?
“I’m sorry sir, these fliers are for senior citizens only and you don’t look old enough.”
Have you ever seen a Southern woman throw a wall-eyed hissy with a red rubber tail? Something like that will turn even the deepest of atheists in to a man of prayer. I can guarantee you if that man wasn’t saved before he gave me the flier, he is now.
Be Blessed Y’all.
I have given up all hope of convincing people I really am sane.
I have two stories requested the most, Fisher’s Of Men, and this one.
And I wonder why people think I’m neurotic.
I would rather have a root canal than go to the gynecologist:
Not that I don’t like my doctors I do. I just don’t like being there. I am a social bug, yes. A social bug who likes to stay fully dressed. I’d rather host one huge barbecue in my back yard, have them all come over, serve beer and brats and call it good until next year.
I realize I should put on my big girl panties and deal with it, and I would if they let me keep them on, but they don’t. Let’s face it, we will burn our bras in public, let our bra straps show in the summer, even throw our panties on stage at a rock concert, but the minute we undress in the doctor’s office we hide our underwear. Why? Because we want to keep that Victoria a secret, that’s why.
I do not know a living soul who wakes up and says “oh boy I get to go for my Pap Smear (or colonoscopy or mammogram) today. Hurray!” No one in their right mind thinks that. To make matters worse, I am a redhead and I blush when people say hello, add naked to the equation and I look like I fell asleep in a tanning bed. Even if the doctor are brilliant, the office is clean and efficient and the staff is super nice, we’d still rather be elsewhere. This is the one place where wham-bam-thank you ma’am could be deemed acceptable. Unless of course something is wrong and we wish to dialog. Then we want them to listen and take their time.
Some doctors like to converse during exams. It’s their way of gauging our emotional state as well as trying to put us at ease; only it doesn’t work does it? Whilst I am normally fond of warm, intelligent conversation, their conversational style can seriously mess with my dis-associative groove. I’d rather close my eyes and run my to do list through my brain than make eye contact while pretending I can follow our conversation.
And yet, we talk. Or rather they talk. I ramble incessantly about God knows what. My neurosis factor increases exponentially with the realization that well… I am at my gynecologists office. My brain is so deep in denial that when they ask which doctor I am seeing, I can never remember his name.
To call me an introvert would be a kindness.
To be expected to carry on a full conversation with a doctor, complete with eye contact, while sitting naked on a table, holding my gown closed with my hands, needs more Valium than their office is willing to provide. Personally, I am all for sedation gynecology. Knock me out and wake me when it’s over. It’s not like it’s a new thing my dentist offers sedation dentistry, it could happen.
Left without the comfort of clothing, or drugs, I grab the only shield I can reach – my gift of sarcasm.
They’ve added a new trick to their trade by the way — a two for one deal really, you can now get checked for cervical cancer and colon cancer all in one visit. REALLY? Now I know why my dogs hate going to the vet.
Not only are the new tests rude, some doctors talk more during our exams than our husbands do during sex. Why can’t they all be Woody Allen?
Some days going to the doctor is more than a girl can handle. Granted after dealing with me, I’m pretty sure it’s my doctors who need Valium.
Have a great week everyone and remember you are amazing! Nobody can take that away from you.
“You look a lot younger on your profile picture than in real life.”
Thank you?
What kind of statement is that? I mean unless it’s retro week or something, I do keep my profile pics up-to-date. I tell people I have a 21-year-old and a 18-year-old. Unless I gave birth pre-puberty, I would think my age is self apparent. Apparently not to some. I do consider the source. The person in question was a 20 something comic who’d not yet met me in person and chose to believe I was younger because I was just starting out in comedy at the time.
Fast forward two years and add a lot more grey hair to the equation and I start believing in better living through chemistry. Clairol chemistry to be exact. Looking in the mirror while at the lake on April 1, I see more grey hair than I do red and the first thing that pops into my mind is, “Oh my gosh, I cannot meet John Branyan looking like this! I have to fix this, now.”
I packed my bags and left my family in the proverbial dust as I raced home to color my hair.
I didn’t have a lot of time. It was already 2 pm and the doors opened at 6 for the comedy concert.
I hit the drug store, bought a new shade of red that promised to cover the grey in 25 minutes and headed home.
I parted, combed, colored, covered and waited for Clairol to work her magic. The end result was splendid in my opinion. By the time the boys got home from the lake, I was sporting my new do. I even curled my hair and put on make up – just to meet John. It was almost 4:30 by time the guys made it home. We rushed out the door to go stand in line for good seats.
The show was wonderful.
Meeting John Branyan and Tim Hawkins (both fellow CCA Comics) afterwards was a huge treat.
John was gracious and kind and said he’s looking forward to seeing me again in Nashville in June at our conference.
Watching Tim lay his head on the table when my son asked him to autograph his butt was truly priceless.
None of that however compares to 24 hours later, at my son’s soccer game when I turn to my husband and ask, “Is it me or are people looking at me funny?”
“They aren’t looking at you funny, they are just smiling.”
“Why are they smiling?”
He is in the danger zone and he knows it. Pausing for wisdom – or an earthquake to eat him whole – whichever comes first, he finally fesses up.
“Well, I’m curious. Did you mean to only color the front of your hair?”
“WHAT?”
“I mean it looks great, it’s just that you missed the entire back of your head, that’s all.”
NICE.
I called my girlfriend Michele, who was also at the concert to ask her if she noticed. She did. She thought I did it on purpose and didn’t say anything.
I let her live because in all fairness, we were already there – what was anyone going to do? Still – I went out in public looking like a middle-aged punk rock, 80’s flash back wanna be with big hair and NO ONE TOLD ME!
Alright ladies and gents. Your turn. While I’m shampooing with Prell to strip this back out and try again, I’d love to hear about your fashion catastrophes.
The screaming you heard on Saturday afternoon was my 18-year-old son finding out that I have purchased tickets to see his all time favorite comic, Tim Hawkins. I totally rock as a mom sometimes.
When: Sunday, April 1, 2012 7:00 pm
Where: Grace Fellowship on Garnet and 91st Street in Broken Arrow
If you’ve never heard of Tim, check out his video clip. After that go thee to HERE and order your tickets today before they sell out. I pretty much guarantee these guys will having you laughing so hard you’ll have tears running down your legs.
John Branyan on Adam and Eve
And guys and dolls, as always no goods or services were given to me in exchange for this endorsement. I’m just taking my kid someplace cool and wanted to share it with you before time runs out.
Have a great Monday and remember – There is no kill switch for awesome!
Love ya!
Deana O'Hara - Speaker, Comedian, Writer 