Category Archives: Comedy

Friday Funny: Hamsters are like cigarettes

CCA Showcase Tweet Song with John Branyan, Clayburn Cox, Marty Simpson and Jonnie W.

Published on Jun 15, 2013

Follow these guys on Twitter
@JBranyanComedy | @ClayburnCox | @MartySimpson | @Jonnie_W

The Cove at Rock Creek

I’m not going to lie. I’m kind of digging this slower life-style that I’ve had to become accustomed to while I get my leg fixed. No more crazy deadlines, being out half the night at the club, driving people places, rushing to the store or lessons. Just being me.

Last Fall I got the chance to watch the season come and go as winter arrived and this time, I get to watch Spring arrive in all of her glory and might. I miss working in the dirt. I haven’t figured out how to do that and not put weight on my leg and that’s okay. If I don’t have my garden this year, there is always the Farmer’s Market.

For now, I get to read, play my banjo, write to my heart’s content, spend time with friends, talk on the phone, love my family, and when opportunity strikes – take pictures.

All in all. It’s really not a bad life.

This slowing down thing.

You can click on the photos if you want to see them better. If you choose to share them that is fine, so long as you link back here. Thanks for reading.

rainbow at rock creek

woodpecker 2014 cove

to have faith

Music Monday: Don’t You Forget About Me, Simple Minds

Do you know what scares me the most? Being forgotten.

My leg is broken. My ankle is shot. It will be over a year before I am well enough to perform again.  It’ll be 2015 before I’ll be allowed to ride with the Tulsa Diva’s.

All proof that I ever did comedy is in a video camera that was stolen last summer. I keep my Facebook page alive simply because I don’t want to be forgotten. I’m not alone.

Most authors, comics, actors,athletes,  hope for just some small piece of immortality. We want to know we make a difference. That we matter. This song is for us.

 

Coulda Woulda Shoulda Take Two

ImageFor those who tried to click on this yesterday, I do apologize. A technical glitch (ie. ID10T error) caused this post to temporarily post prematurely.

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Nothing quite says “good morning” like walking outside and realizing your car has been stolen and nothing quite makes finding the car bittersweet like discovering that the thief kept all of your electronics.

Granted the whole issue is 90% my fault. If I hadn’t decided to unpack my car in the morning because I was “tired” from a road trip, I’d still have my camera, IPad, and laptop. Lesson learned.

And I’d still have my video footage of my comedy as well as the boys high school graduations if I’d backed my camera up to more than just my laptop. But I didn’t.

Oh well.

Coulda woulda shoulda does nothing for how I feel about the whole situation though. Truth is, I feel violated.

Feeling violated is a perfectly normal response. Staying stuck in that feeling however, is not.

Even though I wrote a rather funny comedy bit about how the police officer didn’t believe my car was actually stolen and even though I got to tell my bit on a nationally syndicated radio show (Thank you Daren Streblow for that wonderful chance), it was months before I could tell that bit without my voice shaking.

I kept telling myself “It’s just stuff, no big deal. At least we got my car back” but I didn’t really believe it.

My “stuff” – my tapes, my stories, my photos, were stolen in July 2013. It is now March 2014 and only now have I saved up enough money to replace my lap top and my camera. I even took that as forgive me for this “a sign from God” that maybe I shouldn’t do comedy ever again.

I mean let’s face it, all proof that I’d ever done comedy was now gone.

We let fear get the best of us during the in between stage of theft and recovery. I live in Fort Knox. I no longer keep my front door unlocked. I keep lights on in my house, I leave nothing in my car and I don’t go anywhere alone.

I really needed to take back my peace of mind. I made the decision to replace what was stolen once and for all.

This is my first post on my new laptop. This is me telling whomever stole my stuff that you can’t steal my heart.

Honestly, I could have probably found a way to replace it sooner, but I think I was punishing myself for allowing it to be stolen in the first place and put it off.

I convinced myself that my $299 Samsung tablet was good enough. It wasn’t. Not for what I do anyway.

I write.

I do stand up comedy.

I take amazing photographs.

I love sitting on my back porch, writing in the sunshine.

I’m doing that today.

I win.

Question for you dear readers. Have you ever had anything stolen? How did you deal with it?

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Let me guess, you’re a housewife.

tumblr_m71urbHAfe1qbhkvgo1_1280I do not take vacations without my family and grown men do not ask me for my phone number.

Well, except for that one time and that was a fluke. I swear.

The airport staff at DFW forgot about me and left me sitting at the terminal in a wheelchair with a broken ankle. Not that I knew yet that it was broken, but still.  I am certain that if a stranger had not taken pity on me, I’d still be waiting at gate 32 C.

All I want at this point is to find my seat, order an adult beverage and pretend I am still on my cruise with my girlfriends.

22A is open, I take it and the cabin steward takes my crutches.

So what if I’m supposed to be in 22B, it’s a middle seat and I want the window. Surely whomever has the window seat will see my plight, take pity on me and not make me move.

Turns out he too is tired, wants to find his seat, and order his own adult beverage and we recognize each other immediately.

I, the stubborn redhead sitting in his seat and he, the tall stranger standing in the aisle announcing confidently, “I know you are going to move over, right?”

He is right. I move. Broken ankle and all.  Granted not without a sassy “Oh sure, make the cripple move.” We like each other instantly right up until 22C arrives.

He spends most of the flight talking to her.

I don’t blame him. She is young, cute, probably single and in town for a short business trip. Watching him work is very entertaining to say the least.

I’ll be honest, it takes everything I have not to pop off with a “Shoulda let me keep the window seat.” but my drink arrives and I have bigger things to figure out like explaining my broken ankle to my husband.

As we get ready to make our descent to Tulsa, Mr. 22A remembers that I am in the row and says to me, “So let me guess, you’re a housewife.”

OUCH!

He strikes out with 22C and that’s the best he’s got for me?

I know, I know. I’m married. I shouldn’t care but crimony the dude could at least TRY!

Housewife.

pffffft.

I already know – because it’s hard not to eaves drop when you are stuck in the middle – that Mr. 22A’s name is Tim*, he is a physician’s assistant / surgeon who is just returning from taking care of his old sick mother in Atlanta and he had two brother’s who have died leaving her alone with just him to care for her…

blah blah blah gag me.

I mean she got the “I’m a rich doctor who loves his mother.” pickup, and I get “housewife.” like I’m some kind of consolation prize or something.

At 40 something years old, this cuts me to the quick. He’s not exactly a Spring chicken himself mind you. I have zero interest in this man and yet there is no way I’m letting housewife go unchallenged. Even if it is true.

“As a matter of fact, I’m a stand up comic.”

So there Mr Bigshot!

What happens next is a blur.

Within three minutes he is wanting to know where I do comedy in Tulsa and asks for my phone number so that I can let him know when my next gig is.

and…

I give him my number.

He even sends me a text when we land so that he doesn’t lose it. Oh boy. I am so in trouble.

It has been at least 20 years since a man has asked for my phone number. I can’t remember how to make one up. This is going to take some serious “splaining” as Ricky Ricardo would say.

I’ve taken two vacations ever in my entire life with my girlfriends and I come home from the second one with a broken ankle and now some guy I just met on the plane has my phone number.

This should be interesting.

I do quick introductions in luggage. Mr 22A waits with my wheelchair while my husband gets the car and we never see each other again.

Who says life after kids is boring?

*Name changed to protect his identity, not that I believe he gave me his real name in the first place. I’m not even sure that he’s a surgeon.  I did get the text he sent me on the plane asking for my next gig and I sent him the link to the Comedy Palace where I hope to be performing soon and left it at that. I had surgery shortly after my trip and I’m still in a boot. It’s going to be a long time before I get to do comedy again.

I am also fairly certain that it is going to be a LOOONG time before I get a weekend pass to go on a vacay with my girlfriends again as well.