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Wednesday, November 30, 2005

excitement for Tuesday

Last night I dropped off a giant poster for the window of CB's Gallery. A thing of beauty it is, thanks to illustrator John Leavitt. Incidentally, I saw John perform the other night in a burlesque show as Johnny Panama in an inventive act with a voodoo doll and some pasties, which I daresay may be repeated in Tuesday's show.

I'm turning 27! On Tuesday! I can't wait to see so many of you in one place.

Whatever shall I wear? These Wonder Woman underpants fit great.

The Jenisfamous Spectacular
Tuesday, December 6th 8pm-midnight
CB's Gallery, 313 Bowery between 1st and 2nd Sts.

show me yours and I'll show you mine

My new Wonder Woman underpants arrived in the mail today, and since new things in boxes are exciting, I put them on.

Then, I said, oh, there are other people here, so I put on my bathrobe, but that just made the whole thing look more ridiculous, with the triangle of the "W" logo peeking through, as though any moment I shall pull open my bathrobe to reveal my secret identity.

I don't have a lasso of truth right now, just a cup of tea.

spare the rod, spoil the child

Fifty Cent performed at a $10 million bat mitzvah, and managed to work in the lines "Go shorty, it's your bat miztvah, we gonna party like it's your bat mitzvah."

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

turn your c*ck into a hammer

This site has "poorly-drawn cartoons inspired by actual spam subject lines." I rather enjoyed the one for "are you man enough for this."

Oh, and also "I was always embarassed, but not now."

mermaids singing, each to each

I have never in my life spent so much time alone as I have lately. Once when I was five, my Dad was stationed on the Navy base in Italy and my Mom and baby brother went to live with my grandparents until housing opened up on the base and we could go join my Dad, and that was, I think, a very personality-forming time, as I didn't really see any other kids for seven months. Seven months is a long time to live in adult-land when you're five. My uncle was a teenager at the time, and he taught me algebra, but he didn't really teach me to do algebra; he just let me stare at the problems and try out numbers until I got them right, and then everyone would ooh and ah.

My grandmother has an arcade in her basement, with no fewer than three full-size pinball machines.

These days I'm just working, and working, and sometimes walking to the gym and back, and I find myself doing odd, manual-labor type tasks, carting home-improvement objects across Manhattan, disassembling furniture. I'm pretty happy, but happy in that way that you might be happy in the thick of writing your dissertation on some obscure topic, knowing that no one you know wants to talk about Neural Components of Implicit and Explicit Conditioned Place Preference Behavior, but that this is but a season, and good will come of it, and someday you will be a professor in a tweed jacket with patches at the elbows, and your dinner party repartee will be known across three to four states, and you will take up pipe smoking, and enjoy it.

I sometimes look across East Harlem, eastward, where you can see all the way to the bridge and the water, and the shapes are so foreign to anything I grew up with, and I think how?

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

Tuesday, December 6th: I formally request the honour of your presence

Massive thanks to John Leavitt for designing the poster for the vaudeville-style Jenisfamous Spectacular, which non-incidentally will take place on my 27th birthday. This is the biggest event I've ever done.

The lineup includes:
old timey music from Al Duvall, Singing Sadie,
and the Two Man Gentlemen Band
Latin flavor from ...y las flores
burlesque performances from Molly Crabapple and Veronica Varlow
musical comedy from Adira Amram

click to enlarge

Also, there will be a hula hooping contest open to all, and prizes for best-dressed. Our Grand Prize -- one lucky winner will win tickets to "Bingo - The Musical"!

The new "Grammatically Correct Comedy" t-shirts and CDs will be debuted, and original art by Molly Crabapple from the illustrated Portable Comedy Compendium, will be on display in the gallery.

You, dear readers, are so very invited. If I could engrave this blog post for you, I would.

The Jenisfamous Spectacular
Tuesday, December 6th 8pm-midnight
CB's Gallery, 313 Bowery between 1st and 2nd Sts.

Monday, November 28, 2005

comedy topics

After the YWCA benefit comedy show I did recently, another comic commented that it was the first time she'd seen my bit about penciling in my eyebrows, and she liked it because I "don't usually do self-deprecating material." I had to think about that. A lot of my material isn't super-personal -- I like to make fun of advertising (like the "Campaign for Real Beauty" and the "fight HIV your way" ads), I like to talk about words and language, I sometimes talk politics, and I like to make fun of fashion and beauty rituals. I just see too many women comics whose routines center around making fun of their bodies, and I just can't see how that's helpful or even supportive of women in comedy. Also, if I am unhappy with any of my parts, I'm sure as hell not telling people about it.

Anyway, here's a somewhat germane classic, for those of you who haven't heard it (incidentally, I have lots of new jokes, but limited abilities with audio technology, which is why I don't release these every week):

French Women Don't Do Pilates

on adding to my file of literary magazine rejections

I opened my mail and received a rejection letter from Hayden's Ferry Review. I sent them a short story some-odd months ago, and then I received a "you are in the second round of consideration" letter, and then finally a rejection that said "your work made it deep into the decision-making process" and that the editors had given it "several readings."

This is a good sign, of course, for my embryonic little fiction career (I had a story published in the Powhatan Review, did some readings at Cornelia Street Cafe, and then was possessed by the incubus of comedy).

However, a long, drawn-out, we-like-you-but sort of rejection is, in a way, kind of worse than a flat-out rejection. It kind of makes you say, oh, but things could have been so good for us! What are you doing over there, you dark, handsome literary magazine? We made it so far! Why stop now?

Hayden's Ferry, let me just say: you have no idea what you're missing. If you could see me, I'd totally be doing that thing where I playfully slap my own ass as I walk away.

this is certainly the first time I have blogged about the Torah

You go clicking on links in your internet perusal, and somehow you end up reading Orthodoxy Today. This article is mainly arguing that homosexuality is wrong, but the reason the article is otherwise interesting is the chunk of history it offers regarding global sex practices prior to Judaism.

I was well aware (from my liberal arts education and a senior philosophy seminar on Foucault) that, among the ancient Greeks as well as in many cultures today, the idea of homosexuality did not exist or was not at issue; the real concern was (or is) who is active and who is passive. For instance, the ancient Greeks had no problem with sex between men, provided that the older man or higher-status man was the active partner. Many liberal thinkers cite this as proof that same-sex desire is universal and that certain sex practices have not always been stigmatized.

This writer, somewhat novelly, openly agrees that homosexuality has historically been widespread and accepted; the argument is then that "When Judaism demanded that all sexual activity be channeled into marriage, it changed the world. The Torah's prohibition of non-marital sex quite simply made the creation of Western civilization possible."

Oh, is that all?

After a lascivious breakdown of all the freak-nasty orgy fun the rest of the world was having, the author continues:
"Among the consequences of the unchanneled sex drive is the sexualization of everything -- including religion. Unless the sex drive is appropriately harnessed (not squelched -- which leads to its own destructive consequences), higher religion could not have developed. Thus, the first thing Judaism did was to de-sexualize God: "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth" by his will, not through any sexual behavior. This was an utterly radical break with all other religions, and it alone changed human history."
Of course, there's plenty of "men are beasts and women are monogamous" kind of thinking going on here, even with all the discussions of sanctioned prostitution in other religions and perhaps other evidence of Ancient Ladies Gone Wild. But still, it is interesting to hear an Orthodox thinker argue that "the family is not a natural unit" but rather a brilliant invention that needs to be "cultivated." In keeping with the "invention" theme, the idea of improving upon nature, the author concludes:
Asked what is the single greatest revelation I have derived from all my researches, I always respond, "That there had to have been divine revelation to produce the Torah." The Torah was simply too different from the rest of the world, too against man's nature, to have been solely man-made.
I am reminded of reading Locke for the first time and thinking "Obviously. So?" Same with John Stuart Mill. When ideas have become so deeply ingrained in our culture, it is difficult to imagine a time in which they were revolutionary. And that is the impetus for this post.

"homosexuals no longer have to wear blue hats"

Some of you may have heard that the government of Kazakhstan has officially condemned Ali G's "Borat" character. Their actual statement -- even hinting at a political conspiracy! -- reads:
"We do not rule out that Mr. Cohen is serving someone's political order designed to present Kazakhstan and its people in a derogatory way. We reserve the right to any legal action to prevent new pranks of the kind. We view Mr. Cohen's behaviour at the MTV Europe Music Awards as utterly unacceptable, being a concoction of bad taste and ill manners which is completely incompatible with ethics and civilized behaviour."-Yerzhan Ashykbayev, Kazakh Foreign Ministry Spokesman
Borat has posted a video response, which says, in part: “I like to state, I have no connection with Mr Cohen and fully support my government’s position to sue this Jew.”

Sunday, November 27, 2005

thanks to all seven-hundred and twenty one of you

I finally installed a decent statistics package on this site, and discovered that there are a lot more of you reading this than I thought. I had only been seeing the counter on the front page, whereas it seems that many of you are cleverly coming directly to the blog, perhaps via this new-fangled "bookmark" technology the kids keep telling me about.

I would really like to be a professional blogger and sit here all day and entertain you. It's like comedy, except with occasional cat photos, and also, no one flashes a red light at me after seven minutes. But pro-blogging ain't going to happen with Google ads. I'm fomenting a plan as we speak. Or, as I blog, since we're not actually speaking. Although I wish we were, dear readers. Wait, but then I wouldn't be blogging, which would be a step further from my goal of blogging professionally. Well, maybe you could sit on the couch watching Jeopardy and shouting out the answers before Alex Trebec says them, and I'll sit here, blogging away, occasionally throwing a glance in your direction, and thinking how sweet it is that you think Jane Austin wrote "Moll Flanders."

just to show that all the good domain names AREN'T taken features photos of slave girls in, well, Leia's metal bikini. Turns out that a metal bikini costs over $300. Bummer, or I'd get one and host the Jenny Vaudeville Show in it.

Um, be sure to help with "Operation Life Size Jabba."

Saturday, November 26, 2005

There is a book! A Jenisfamous book. Now.

This is what I've been working on behind your back, my dears. But now it is here, and you can own it.

The Jenisfamous Portable Comedy Compendium (pre-order)

You've heard the jokes. Now they are lovingly illustrated by artist Molly Crabapple, and interspersed with "best of" bits from the blog, odd little footnotes, and even an intermission. This 4 x 4 inch novelty book makes a great gift item, and is available signed.

This product is available for pre-order and will ship following its print run.


Would you like it signed?
If so, to whom (first name) ought it be inscribed?
See more merchandise in the store

Announcing the winner of the $50 photo contest!

Mr. J.D. Finch of Brattleboro, VT is the winner of the JenIsFamous $50 Photo Contest! The contest challenged readers to send in the best photo of a person or persons reading And here is the winning photo:

click for full version

When asked how this photo was accomplished, Mr. Finch replied:
While you may have imagined some technogeek trick to my "Amazing Reflecting Glasses", the truth is they were two little pictures stuck on the lenses with Post-it sticky. There is a way you can save an image of your computer screen (alt+save screen), which I did and then pasted it into a photo application and shrunk it down to its tiny "reflection in glasses" size. I darkened the room and turned a bright lamp on my face to add a glow in my glasses to make it look more like a reflection than a pasted-on picture.
Sometimes lo-fi is the right-fi.

Friday, November 25, 2005

in which I come out of the closet as a very girly meathead

I finally realized I had been avoiding the gym because I hate doing cardio. However, I love lifting heavy things repeatedly. When I was in college, I lifted very many heavy things repeatedly. I spent two years busting my lats on the lat pulldown machine until I could finally do one pull-up. Once I could do one, I could do twelve a couple months later. When I did, people would sometimes put down their weights and watch for a minute. College was kind of great that way, even if it often involved hiking through drifts of snow to get to the gym. It's like you needed two lockers to hold the difference between what you were wearing in a New Hampshire snowstorm and what you were going to be wearing in a weight room.

I finally realized that there is no authority figure at the East Harlem Bally's who is going to force me do cardio, which (have I mentioned?) I hate. And also, since I'm not very good at it (I once blogged about the first-ever time I ran an entire mile, which was about a year ago, and it took thirteen minutes or something), it doesn't seem to burn enough calories to be worthwhile anyway; I'd rather just eat less. I mean, you can spend half an hour busting your ass on a treadmill and the little calorie counter says "you burned 110 calories!" Wouldn't it be more efficient to just put down the damn pie? "Not eating pie" is both free and time-saving.

So, up top is a photo of my actual college abs. At left is a photo of my actual college biceps. Well, one of them. I apologize for all the weird-ass cropping. Due to the presence of bad hair and ex-boyfriends, it proved impossible to fit all my formerly muscular bodyparts into a single photo. (I was once a redhead, and I had curled my hair for my college graduation, for which I was, in fact, wearing a sari-type dress).

In the end, after college, I didn't get lazy; I had started a dotcom that ate all my time and resources and I couldn't afford a gym. I was literally in my office eighteen hours a day, in pinstripe. I had little to no idea what I was doing, or I might have realized that staying healthy and having a balanced lifestyle would be conducive to effective entrepreneurship. At the time, I considered staying out of the gym a great sacrifice. I switched from protein shakes to Costco canned vegetable soup, fifty-four cents a can.

I can still out-arm-wrestle most women my size, and a few women bigger than me, and a few men my size (but not many men are my size, and the ones that are are generally a bit sensitive about it, so I wouldn't recommend arm-wrestling girls in public anyway. In private, well, that's another matter).

p.s., No, I am NOT a dominatrix. Please don't email me about it! I can only bench press, like, sixty pounds. I don't want to hit you. I'm a little tiny woman who wants you to open doors for her. Thank you.



The inventor of Stove Top Stuffing has died. From the NY Times (quoting the patent application for instant stuffing!):
The secret lay in the crumb size. If the dried bread crumb is too small, adding water to it makes a soggy mass; too large, and the result is gravel. In other words, as the patent explains, "The nature of the cell structure and overall texture of the dried bread crumb employed in this invention is of great importance if a stuffing which will hydrate in a matter of minutes to the proper texture and mouthfeel is to be prepared.
I had some fantastic stuffing this evening at bobbyblue's house, and also explained marshmallows-on-sweet potatoes to an Australian couple, learned about hormones involved in becoming a male-to-female transsexual, observed a demonstration of a new cheerleader dance, listened to a debate about Madonna's new CD, and took a nap with a puppy. I love my family and all, but those things never happen at their house.

Thursday, November 24, 2005

I think this makes me hate white people

Forget about famine, global warming, and AIDS -- I just clicked (incredulously) on an I support bloggers' rights button. These all-important rights include "You Have the Right to Blog Anonymously" and "You have the Right to Allow Readers' Comments Without Fear."

What other rights do we have now? The right to enter country clubs without scuffing our alligator pumps?

There's even a guide on How to Blog Safely. Make sure to wear a condom, kids!


Happy Thanksgiving!

Your pillows are still filthy.

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

new review on (start your Christmas shopping early!)

There is a new review on The Sarcastic Sex Toy Blog.

I don't recommend visiting from work.

Ladies and gentlemen (and especially gentlemen), I present to you, the whimsically-beheaded Butt Banger.

does your inbox need some love?

I'm working on a new Shout-Out. Sign up now for Machiavellian schemes and dirty pictures.*

Join the jen is famous dot com mailing list for your city! Subscribers get access to secret comedy clips and posts.

* Of your mom.

imagine if you could still leave the house in what is basically a t-shirt with tighty-whities attached

Here is a photo by Heidi Schmidt from the comedian-heavy birthday party for Carolyn and Nichelle, producers of the Chicks & Giggles comedy show I blogged about Sunday night.

Carolyn is holding a Chicks & Giggles onesie created for her baby Adriana; it says "Chicks & Giggles (or maybe it's just gas)." I'm just standing there. I love how all of the sudden other people are documenting my every social event. I just check the websites and stalk myself.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

don't ask about the color of my goddamn parachute

A lot of people's blogs are littered with little buttons that answer pressing questions such as "If you were a character on The O.C., who would you be?" or "If you were a type of cheese, what cheese would you be?" The button will say something like "I'm Havarti! What kind of cheese are you?", thus encouraging more users to take the quiz and graphically inform us of the results.

Today I saw the dumbest fucking web quiz ever: "Which blog component are you?"

I'm not even going to reproduce the button here. It says "If I were a blog component, I would be the MAIN BODY ENTRY."

You can follow that up with What's the Color of Your Blog Personality?

jolly ... green ... jen

I am having Thanksgiving at bobbyblue's house, and I've been put in charge of Green Vegetables. I bought nearly the entire supply of broccoli from my local neighborhood vegetable stand and, in chopping it, created what looked like a broccoli massacre in my kitchen, little bits of florets and stems flying, strewn on the table, rolling across the hardwood floor. You know those itsy-bitsy bulbs that broccoli florets are made up of, and how you get extras when you chop broccoli, but they're so tiny it's hard to even collect them and put them back into the food you're cooking? I have legions of those. Legions. I am making broccoli for seventeen people. I am taking seventeen people's broccoli on the L train.

Recap: November 21st After School Comedy Special

Monday's After-School Comedy Special at Pete's brought out a big damn crowd and was rollickingly funny ... I'm still giggling over Becky Yamamoto's "kitten no belong in bowl!"

In between the comics' acts, we did Mad Libs -- one from Hamlet, one from Eleanor Rigby. Here's how that one turned out, more or less:
Ah, look at all the post-Cambrian Pete's Candy Stores
Ah, look at all the post-Cambrian Pete's Candy Stores

Sarah Yamamoto picks up the teabagging in a Chrysler where a 1967 World's Fair has been ... kicks in a skull.
Pushes at drums, wearing the kitten that she keeps in a plunger by the foam. Who is it for?

All the post-Cambrian Pete's Candy Stores, where do they all come from?
All the post-Cambrian Pete's Candy Stores, where do they all belong?

Billy Wood, Elaine Williams, Nick Cobb,
Emily Epstein and Becky Yamamoto
all smell like daisies

you are sleeping on cooties!

I saw a sign in the window of a dry cleaning shop that said "Would you sleep on sheets that hadn't been washed in six months? What about your pillows?"

That made me think about breathing mites and allergens right out of the poly-fil, just sucking them up in my sleep. The sign was trying to persuade us to dry clean our pillows, but then we'd be breathing dry cleaning chemicals. So I just bought new pillows. Five bucks each in El Barrio -- a perfect example of an affordable luxury!

What's in your pillows? Now I've got you thinking about mites and mildew and the dead skin cells of all your exes.

My pillows are pristine.

I was up last night reading this for hours

"You know, before we come to Japan, they tell us a lot of ultimately useless stuff. What kind of computer to bring, if our DVD's will work, clothing sizes, that kind of nonsense. Nowhere, and I mean nowhere, in the 3-4 months of orientations did anyone ever mention that at some point, a Japanese kid may try to stick their fingers up our butt. That's something I would have liked to know, personally."

- From a culture-shocked schoolteacher in Japan, link via Nerve

Monday, November 21, 2005

this is what I bring to you on tonight's silver platter

Monday, November 21st
The After-School Comedy Special
This week's theme: Crack is not for Children
Pete's Candy Store (L train to Lorimer -- see map)

Featuring Emily Epstein, Becky Yamamoto, Elaine Williams, Nicholas Cobb, and Billy Wood, all of whom smell fantastic.

The After-School Comedy Special (formerly "Comedy Show & Tell") mixes performances by top young comedians with nostalgic diversions including show & tell, free candy, and Mad Libs! Bring an item for show & tell, or just come watch. All free!

seeking a few good men

Heidi Fleiss is opening a brothel for women (as patrons). I kind of like the idea. Molly and I used to say that we were going to live together when we were old and our husbands were dead, and we'd pay young men to come over and cook and clean for us and give us massages. And if we couldn't help harrassing them, well....

macho behavior has a purpose, such defending your village from being sacked by Visigoths

Last night after seeing the late showing of Harry Potter, I found myself on the 6 train sitting near -- not next to, but near -- a drunk old bum* who, in his loud, lengthy ramblings, declared me his girlfriend and called me a variety of female names (Carolyn! Deborah! Heather!) in an attempt to get me to look at him.

At first the ranting was downright jolly, interspersed with a continuous chuckling and an occasional belly-laugh, as though whatever he was talking about was truly the most humorous thing that had happened in weeks. Eventually, however, the ranting became more belligerent, but by that point we were on the express run between 86th St. and 125th St. -- the long stretch right before I get off the train -- and I started eyeing the other passengers, deciding in my head which ones would come to my assistance should the crazy man attack me.

At that point I realized I was glad I lived in Harlem and was sitting in the train car with eight full-grown, mostly middle-aged Hispanic men, most of whom I think would intervene in the case of attack-by-crazy-man. If such a thing happened on the L train, the willowy tattooed boys would just take cameraphone pictures of me getting stabbed, and then maybe one of them would write a poem about seeing a woman die on the L and read it at a Spuyten Duyvil open mic, which would, like, totally get him laid, because he's all sensitive and stuff.

* Asian people are currently underrepresented in the bum population, but maybe this guy should count double.

30-odd comedians and one very well-behaved baby

When did I start blogging party coverage? I am a deeply introverted person. That's why I have a blog ... and am a comedian ... shut up, just shut up. I am a deeply introverted person occasionally flipped inside out for the amusement of others, and then I plug back into the Borg cube mothership and recharge.

Anyway, tonight, after managing to tragically miss Miss Megan (she was in Brooklyn by the time she got my text messages), I went to the birthday party of Chicks and Giggles impresarios Carolyn and Nichelle. Here are some pictures. You people seem to like that sort of thing. If I had a series of DVDs marketed on late-night cable television, I would call it "Comedians Gone Wild!" I'm not sure if you'd be able to jerk off to it.

Jenny Rubin and Katina Corrao

Raquel D'Apice and Nichelle

Carolyn laughing during Adira Amram's set

Adira gave me a copy of her new CD because she is such a freaking sweetheart. And her nipple didn't even pop out of her top like when she did the Jenny Vaudeville Show!

Jessica Cutler was also present and was photographed with a Penthouse Variations, but not by me. I also met comic Sven Wechsler. We were introduced with "your names rhyme!" and used that as an opportunity to stare awkwardly at one another and feel discomfited.

I am sorry that the lights show up all crazy, and that the men in my pictures don't have names. It's very Fight Club.

my Treo captures cleavage for you, my readers

On Friday, just before falling ill, I did a photoshoot with photographer Aeric Meredith Goujon and models Molly Crabapple, Veronica Varlow, Lady J, and hott tattooed-artist-guy Mike, for Evilkid Productions, the company of A.V. Phibes, who ate glass at the last vaudeville show. Did you keep track of all of that? Good. My blog is looking Russian-novelesque again with its cast of characters.

I took some behind-the-scenes Treo photos, which Molly demanded that I post, because even when I have the flu, she is a cruel mistress. When I did not post the photos in a timely fashion, she took to claiming that I sexually harassed her. Which is true. Here:

Molly looking gorgeous

Aeric with camera; Veronica with gun

Molly and Veronica recreating scenes from absurdist theatre

On December 6th, Veronica will be giving me a birthday lapdance.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

hey baby, let's "make bread together"

Abstinence-education website has posted a list of 99 things you can do with your special someone instead of having sex. My comments are in italics:
Here's 99 things to do for/with your special someone:

Make a special tape of love songs.
Make a crazy movie with dancing and singing.
Like the ones you pay $20 to make when you're at third-rate amusement parks? Do you think I could sing "The Rhythm is Gonna Get You" while dancing around like Gloria Estefan? I could? Do you think that the Miami Sound Machine is really a substitute for sex?
Go to the zoo and try to imitate all the animals.
Whoever starts will look like such an asshole as to ensure his or her virginity for a long time thereafter.
Go clam digging.
Have a barbeque on a beach.
Build a dog house or a bird house and paint it together.
You're right! I did this in the Girl Scouts when I was seven, and I didn't have sex with any of my troop-mates! You've got it all figured out!
Rent a bike built for two and ride for the day.
You know, I think a lot of people have sex because they're too lazy to get up and go to the movies, much less "Rent a bike built for two and ride for the day."
Buy a watermelon and have a seed spitting contest.
Take the dog for a walk.
That sounds kind of nice, actually.
Go to the library. a card-catalogue search for "Marquis de Sade," and let the Christianity rush over you!
Share dreams with each other.
Play a game of frisbee.
Go to an art gallery together.
Do homework together.
Trust one another.
...and then have sex? Come on, "trust one another" isn't an activity! You can't put "trust" in your day planner!
Send candy.
Eat by candlelight.
Meet each others family.
Abstinence educators have atrocious grammar.
Send flowers.
Take a drive together.
Do things for the other without being asked.
Give a special gift.
Write "I love you".
...on her tits! In coke!
Go for a long bike ride.
Walk arm in arm in the woods/park.
Watch the sunset.
Throw a party together.
Go to a political rally together.
For what party, dare I ask? Maybe you could picket an abortion clinic! Maybe your fingers could accidentally touch ... on the handle of a bloody-fetus placard! That's romance.
Sing a special song to your loved one.
Sit in the park.
Talk openly about your feelings.
"I feel very close to Jesus." Hott!
Take a bus ride going nowhere in particular.
In most cities in America, this is a rather poor suggestion. I mean, I suppose if you get gang-raped in a bad part of town, you're still a virgin AT HEART.
Go shopping for clothes.
Teenage boys LOVE this one.
Be there when a loved one hurts.
Pick a song as your favorite song as a couple.
Listen to hurts.
What? It really says this.
...ABOVE the waist, people! Hugging is ABOVE the waist!
Bake a cake together.
Hold Hands.
Browse in a museum.
Exercise together.
Gaze into each others eyes.
Apparently apostrophes lead to premarital coupling.
Wash a car together.
Go swimming.
Have a picnic.
Compliment each other.
"Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armoury, whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men. Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins."

"It always gets me hot when you quote the Song of Solomon."
Go hiking together.
Go to a sports event together.
Write a poem to each other.
Rent a video.
Play music together.
Go dancing.
Give each other pet names.
Talk on the telephone.
Go siteseeing.
Hide a love note.
Make a big cookie.
Go grocery shopping together.
Cook a meal together.
Use eye contact to share a secret.
Because this NEVER leads to sex. Hey, maybe you could use your tongue and the mouth of your beer bottle to "share a secret."
Write each other letters/ e-mail.
Go fishing.
Go for a moonlight walk.
Make sacrifices for each other.
Laugh at something funny.
As opposed to laughing at something that totally sucks?
Call the person just to say "I love you".
Be caring.
Cook their favorite food.
Meet each others friends and really like them.
I order you to like them! I demand it!
Dedicate a song to the other on the radio.
Put a secret message in the local paper for the other.
Go skating.
Have your picture taken together.
Share private jokes.
Share an ice cream cone.
Be faithful.
Pretty easy, since you're not even having sex with each other. But you'd better not take another boy to the zoo to imitate the animals, you whore!
Read a book together and discuss.
Plan a secret surprise road trip for the other person.
Do a work project together.
Listen to joys.
Go horseback riding.
Share one soda with two straws.
Play 'footsie'.
Plan a surprise date and picnic breakfast.
Send a funny card.
Share lifelong goals.
Go to a place of worship together.
Make each other a gift.
Find out what's special for the other and do it.
Say "I love you" in sign language.
I think I learned how to do that on Sesame Street. Can't you people just fuck already? You're making me sick.
Send a postcard.
Babysit together.
Hrm, this one might actually be effective, provided the baby shrieks and spits up enough to make itself unappealing.
Play a video game together .
Go to a different cultural event/restaurant together.
Spend time just being quiet together.
Learn to say "I love you" in 3 different languages.
Including or not including sign language?
Go sailing together.
Make bread together.
Work on car together.
Pray together.
Let the other person see your diary.
Dear Diary, will Jesus let me get off already? Jesus fucking Christ. I'm sorry, Jesus.
Propose marriage.
And for all the right reasons!
And finally, our wildest suggestion yet:
Drive each intersection/stop sign...flip a coin, turn left if it's heads and right if it's tails. If the coin goes under the seat go straight. Do for one hour and then go buy an ice cream.
Wow, that IS wild! Um, I've done wilder things with your mom. On Christmas. And do you know how lost a couple or horny teenagers could get driving like this for an entire hour? And, since you have no idea where you're going, how do you know you're going to end up near an ice cream parlor? You know what this sounds like to me? A great thing to tell your parents you were doing to cover up the fact that you were actually having sex. Well, mom, first we did the coin-driving thing for exactly sixty minutes, and then we drove around looking for ice cream, and once we had the ice cream, we spent two hours finding our way back, and that's why my hair is so disheveled and I smell like Astroglide. What did I say? Oh, nothing. I meant 'The Astroglide of our Lord.'


I made it out of my house for the first time since Friday, to the all-night bodega to try to get some Spaghetti-Os. The all-night bodega didn't have any, although they did have a rather large stock of -- oddly -- canned fava beans. Even the applesauce I bought seemed to only come in really dirty jars. I wonder if the store is following some kind of law regarding what percentage of stock has to be not-cigarettes, even if the entire purpose of the store is to sell cigarettes to people after-hours.

Saturday, November 19, 2005


I am like a Spalding Grey, disintegrating before your collective eyes.

upright enough to blog

So sick. Last night was one of the worst nights of my life.* Chills, coughing, sinus pressure, head set to explode, dizziness.

Somewhere after the first five hours of sleeping in five- and ten-minute blocks with a space heater pointed right at me, to no avail, I realized I was hungry, and wouldn't be physically able to obtain food. I eventually dragged myself to the freezer for the year-old carton of raspberry sorbet that was there from last time I was sick. I only like sorbet when I'm sick.

But mostly I wanted (and continue to desire) rice pudding. That's at the bottom of a fifth-floor walkup, so I'm eating rye crackers. What do people do when they're sick? Watch television? I could try that. I can sit up now. I'm running out of tissues. My nose hurts. Maybe I have Avian Flu. Maybe I should stop sleeping in a pen of live Thai chickens.

* If you don't count that time I banged yer mom.

Friday, November 18, 2005

I turn 'em, all the time

Lianne Stokes: Hey mom, sometime I like the ladies

p.s. SOMEONE please make me stop blogging so I will write my damn book.

spelling on Good Morning America (again)

The television segment about spelling bees should run THIS Sunday (it was bumped from last Sunday). Good Morning America Weekend Edition is on ABC, 8-9am in Manhattan.

Related posts:
I missed Good Morning America this morning
on Good Morning America this Sunday!

a few thoughts on egg donation after the fact

I read a couple of egg donor blogs today.

Apparently, the UK prohibits egg donors from being paid, and then some infertile couple ends up in the paper just pleading for an egg donor to help them out -- as though other people's eggs are necessary in the way that a donor kidney might be.

Of course, I take a bit of a libertarian view on the matter -- if our bodies are our own, I think we should pretty much be able to sell them (with caveats against exploiting destitute people, and perhaps legally mandated minimums, sort of like a minimum wage for biological components).

But even if your view is more moderate, surely one wouldn't expect (very many) egg donors to endure some-odd ten weeks of drugs, injections, specifically-timed doctor visits, egg retrieval under general anesthesia, and lost income during this period out of sheer altruism. While I could see doing such a thing for, say, one's own sister, I would kind of wonder about the mental health (or potential martyr complex?) of anyone who volunteered to do such a thing for a stranger -- what is it that this person really wants back? I think you might be getting some crazy-lady genes for your baby. How nice!

Interestingly, when I asked the egg agency how the egg donor fee should be reported tax-wise, I was told it was a (tax-free) "pain and suffering" payment, the same as if someone had hit me with their car and I had won a lawsuit against him or her.

I also came across a mention (on a "happily child-free" blog) of egg donors who have no interest in children prior to egg donation, but who develop an interest afterwards, perhaps due to the hormonal shifts inherent in the egg donation process (or just due to spending so much time thinking about babies).

Incidentally, I am back in my agency's egg donor database. They asked me to log in and view my profile -- it's sort of like a dating site for parents and donors! -- and I discovered that someone had listed my IQ at 140 or 150 or something.

I have never had my IQ tested formally, but last time I took an IQ test on my own, I scored freaky-high because I am a standardized test-prep teacher and an IQ test looks disturbingly like an SAT, with the addition of some little patterned boxes you have to rotate (and if I spent some time, I'm sure I could think of a near-foolproof method for boosting students' scores on that as well). I don't think that much of IQ tests. In any case, the egg agency said the value probably got filled in when they were switching to new software.

The writer of this blog was joking about how big your follicles (the pockets in the ovaries that hold each individual egg) get when stimulated -- so big....
...that they beep when I back up?
...that they have their own zip code?
This is humor for a very small audience (with very large ovaries).

Related posts:
No one ever refers to women as "virile"
I'm going to end up in bar fights
the state of things
egg tales
imagine being a nurse in the maternity ward who wasn't told about any of this
cheaper by the dozen
update from solitary hotel room
I'm sure a male comedian who became a sperm donor would not receive cute sperm-related gifts
thanks for all the love


Google will read your mind and send it to your phone

I had no idea this existed -- my Treo has web access, which turns out to be pretty good for reading blogs, but not great for websites with forms (such as search engines). Or that one time I tried, from a street corner, to find the nearest Citibank via the Citibank website. Um, no.

Google, however, has an SMS-based search service -- you can text-message a query to them and they'll send results right back to your phone. I typed "jesus is magic new york" and immediately received movie times, starting with Union Square. Brilliance.

The online demo is fun. ("citibank new york NY" does exactly what I was unable to accomplish via Citibank's site).

Thursday, November 17, 2005

comedian pet peeve

I find it annoying when totally normal-looking comics open their sets with "I know what you're thinking -- I look just like the love child of John Belushi and Casey Affleck" (or "Phil Collins and Ewan MacGregor," or whatever).

I'm always thinking, No, I wasn't thinking that at all. I was thinking, when is this guy going to tell some jokes? I mean, if you are a very unusual-looking person, certainly it does make sense to remark upon your physical idiosyncrasies so people will stop staring and move on. Enormous hair, extreme tallness, being a Little Person -- all of these things deserve some mention and can be a fine way to open a set. But I have seen a great many very average-looking white guys describe themselves as a combination of two other average-looking white guys, and it is simply unnecessary.

don't you love being privy to my inner monologue?

If I were an old lady, I'd totally be the kind of old lady who writes a crockpot cookbook called "Crock Yourself Out!"

this is why I have a box of black henna on my bathroom sink

In the interest of improving my general health (I still have a cold that is rather unfriendly to my performing career -- at the spelling bee, my voice went from deep and throaty to cracking like a teenage boy's), I looked up some information on natural products that might be helpful, since I figured that long-term use of Alka-Seltzer Cold & Flu might not be the best idea. Well, really, it was the warning that said that Alka-Seltzer Cold & Flu plus alcohol could cause stomach bleeding. Even sick* women enjoy a nice glass of red at a show, you know?

So I did some reading and was pretty turned off by all the information about what's in our soaps and shampoos and such, and now those damn hippies have got me washing my face with freaking green tea. Like some kind of tree-hugger with a clear but strangely herbal-smelling complexion.

You know what else? Black hair dye apparently causes bladder cancer. Isn't that a strangely specific carcinogenic effect? Does blonde hair dye give you breast-implant cancer? (Oh, I didn't say that).

* Please think of me as romantically ill, like in Moulin Rouge.

Gawker is running celebrity spelling bee coverage

There are celebrity spelling bees?

I want to see a Jessica Simpson, Linsday Lohan, and Kevin Federline spelling bee. My money's on Lindsay, but that's not saying much.

mad props to Michelle Buteau

One of our own, comic Michelle Buteau, is having her Comedy Central debut on December 2nd at 11:30 (um, on Comedy Central, you know the channel).

Michelle taped this spot on August 29th, which I remember because she performed in my show at Pete's that night (read the recap), and she totally smelled like comedic success (I sniff all the comics at my shows).

Michelle will be coming back out to Pete's on December 5th for "The After-School Comedy Special," so save the date! But that's two After-School Comedy Specials away -- the next one is this upcoming Monday, November 21. I'll post that today, which means you've probably already seen it, since blogs are in reverse-chronological order.

apropos to nothing, or to his 23rd birthday last week

My brother, for the longest time, had a car with no cupholders. Someone would get in with a drink and say "Do you have a cupholder?" He'd say, "Yeah, can you hold this?" and let the other person hold his drink while he pretended to search around the car for something. Then he'd start driving, and say "See?"

Related posts:
nature versus nurture
I've always wanted to be the coolest girl at Springfield-Franconia
measles mumps and rubella
yet more frivolity before I return to my regularly scheduled...
Download my new MP3! Audiojen!
My dad sent me this joke over a year ago...
It's Pinky and the Brain, Pinky and the Brain, one is a genius, the other's insane

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

my dirty secrets are sooo dirty

I read in New York Mag's "Vagina Dialogues" article that Stephanie Klein posted a list on her blog of "things you don't know about me," including that she lets her dog lick her lady parts. This is bad and wrong, but I suppose that's easy to say when you don't have a dog.

I was thinking on the train about "things you don't know about me," and I think right now I only have one:

My secret dream is -- and has been for years and years -- to take singing lessons and transform myself into Cher in a Cher cover band.


now that you've been reading my blog for a few months, maybe we can take this to the next level (sexy!)

Tonight I did a set at Mintyfresh's "Coming Out" show. Among other comics who saw the ads, this caused some confusion, as it is a well-known fact that I enjoy myself a high-caliber gentleman caller here and there.

It all happened when I told Shawn Hollenbach, one of the Mintyfresh producers, that I was seeing a lady, something I hadn't done since college. In between that time and tonight, the night of the show, the lady and I have ceased seeing one another (she has subsequently referred to me in writing as "a woman I've done wrong").

In my seven minutes of glory, for an audience comprised mostly of gay men, I talked about my brief stint as a collegiate lesbian ("when your social life, by necessity, revolves around consciousness-raising meetings -- imagine if straight people had to go to Habitat for Humanity to get laid") and my recent revisitation. One thing that has occurred to me recently: you know how, in high school, it's typical for the student government to have a male president, but lots of women in all the offices beneath that, with virtually all of the actual work being done by women? Plus all that stuff about girls being more diligent, more organized, and having better handwriting, and now graduating from college at higher rates and getting better grades? Yes. That. I suppose I'm one of those girls, and I've been working hard for a really long time now (since I was fourteen and realized that I direly needed to get out of Virginia), and it just so happens that the great majority of the people I know who have also been working really hard and impressing me are also women. It has been a long time since I've met a man of dating age I found impressive; more commonly, I end up propping up the egos of nice men who are just sort of traipsing along in life. ("But you made a short film in 1998!" I will say. "You are a filmmaker!") Yet my women friends are accomplishing things that provoke actual excitement and professional jealousy (of the healthy, motivating sort -- Molly and I have been getting high off of this for years now). And my lost lady impressed the hell out of me.

I'm looking, it seems, for an Honor Roll student.

I ended my set talking about how dating someone different -- in this case, in gender -- involves recalibrating yourself in certain ways, reworking the Pavlovian pathways in your brain that tell you to feel a certain way in response to a certain stimulus. It's not that this is irreversible, but there is some effort, some re-recalibration, in reversing it, and that can only lead you to wonder at the futility of recalibrating in the first place, of calibrating to anyone; it's like switching to Daylight Savings Time for someone, and having to switch back. Or converting to metric, and then you're alone again and back to standard measurements, counting out ounces and inches -- until you find yourself driving in kilometers. And you remember what you did, and what you nearly, but not quite, managed to reverse, and that whole metric debacle smacks you in the forehead.*

I don't normally open a vein on this blog; it's just not my style. But tonight I found myself walking through Park Slope on a damp, dark night, listening to Jeff Buckley on the iPod I bought with my own damn money, realizing that thirteen-year-old-Jen would have been fucking thrilled at the very possibility of living the life of twenty-six-year-old Jen. I feel about as invincible as anyone who's not an asshole can really ever feel (I think an extended feeling of absolute invincibility is probably pathological).

I'm often disappointed in how long people in this city can remain children. City life encourages an extended adolescence that I find unbecoming; it's like being on a date with a guy who only talks about video games, except sometimes it seems like a whole city of noncommittal, whiny people saying things like "I still haven't found the thing I was meant to do." Have a kid, volunteer to do something important at which you might fail, join the freaking military, get married, go to law school. Anything. I think you grow up by taking on responsibility; if you postpone responsibility until you feel grown up, you might find yourself yet another man-child in expensive jeans perfectly spiked hair poised atop a brain full of self-indulgent mush.

I was born about thirty-five years old. I always felt childhood was undignified, and often found the "playing" of other children embarrassing even to watch. I'm not saying I was smarter or better; just that I was no fun at all. Well, I was sarcastic, which for some people is akin to fun. In any case, people would often tell me that childhood was the best time of one's life, and that I would miss it when I grew up and had to do more homework, or had to make a living, et cetera, et cetera. And that's never been true; I have relished every step forward. Childhood was hell. Adulthood means you can wear the stuff you weren't allowed to wear in junior high, buy that Red Hot Chili Peppers album you were forbidden to purchase in 1990, blog about your love life, become a comedian, sell your eggs, eat alone in restaurants, buy weird groceries that don't work together as meals, walk alone on the streets of Park Slope in the middle of the night, and a million other things that have made me very happy in small but repeatable ways. I am waiting, I suppose, to grow into the age I have always been.

I said I don't open a vein on this blog, but I suppose it's good to donate blood twice a year or so.

Goodnight, dear readers.

* That would be "the forehead of your heart." I felt like I was actually doing pretty well with an analogy for once, so I figured I'd mess that up for you here. A friend of mine pointed out that in that old song that goes "Our LOVE is like a SHIP on the OCEAN we've been SAILING with a CARGO full of LOVE AND DEVOTION," the speaker is actually saying "our love is like a ship full of love." Take that.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

this is a really good cause

The YWCA is having a comedy benefit show this Thursday night to empower women and fight racism. What, you're not going? What are you, some kinda racist?

You know, most white people are terrified of being called racists. I'm surprised that people of other races do not exploit this weakness more. "Hey baby, you wanna 69? What, you don't even know me, and you're married? What are you, racist?"

Anyway, this show on Thursday is for a good cause and it will be funny. Get tickets here.

how I like to be woken up in the morning

Alka-Seltzer Cold & Flu is my new boyfriend.

someone needs their own sitcom

You go writing an article about a bunch of bloggers, well, they're all going to blog about it. Shocker, that. New York mag ran an article about sex columnists (The Vagina Dialogues), including the previously-mentioned Jessica Cutler and the much-mentioned Rachel Kramer Bussel. I am especially fond of this bit:
Cutler: Some guy came to my reading and I went with him. I still see him. He’s a great guy . . .

Sohn: Did you sleep with him?

Cutler: Oh, yeah, of course. I’ve dated a couple of fans. Why not?

Sohn: Aren’t you afraid that someone is going to be totally psycho?

Cutler: I love the psycho ones! What’s he going to do, kill me?

Nersesian: Yeah.

Cutler: What a relief that would be.

no, I canNOT use this in my act...

From a friend:
You know what the worst part of this whole bird flu business is?

It's un-tweet-able.

Monday, November 14, 2005

age and gender confusion

I did a spelling bee tonight while my voice was dying ... it would be all sexy and throaty, and then it would break, as though I were a thirteen year old boy.

If I were a pop star, I would definitely have to lip sync any upcoming shows.

I'm sure Captain Kangaroo had the same problem

For the second time, I've called someone and said "This is Jennifer Dziura," clearly identified what I was calling about -- and had someone have no idea who I was until I said "Jenisfamous." But, I mean, I can't just call someone up and say "This is Jenisfamous." What if I get in the habit, and start calling my parents with that? Absurd.

Season Three of spelling begins tonight

Not only that, but we were on German Public Radio. This was recorded October 14th, at the Finals, by Sascha Storfner.

It is mostly in German, but that kind of makes the English bits funnier. dhjsjhdskhdfskhsd Kiss My Spelling Bee kljfskdljfsdlkfjsdlfsd beer. Sascha even pronounces my name in the original Polish manner.

If anyone wants to come out to spelling, please do! The Williamsburg Spelling Bee is tonight, and every other Monday, at Pete's, signup at 7:15, bee at 7:30. It is free and open to everyone.

Sunday, November 13, 2005

I suppose it isn't shocking that no one's blogging about studying for his or her GED

In testing the hypothesis that there is a blog for everything, I started googling different kinds of blogs to see if they exist:
miscarriage blog - yes
chlamydia blog - no

ADHD blog - yes
GED blog - no (but guys named Ged do blog)

Bird Flu blog - yes
bubonic plague blog - no


victory is forthcoming

For the first time in my adult life, I shall soon have health insurance! I'm not sure I really understand the menu of benefits, but I already feel better about the possibility of chemotherapy or getting run over by Europeans on Vespas.

didn't your mother ever tell you that posing on the wing of a small aircraft with a Playgirl model will give you a death of a cold?

This is not related to the previous post from my mother about catching a cold, but I have, in fact, caught some deadly illness. Everything inside my neck hurts, including my throat, my neck muscles, my actual spine, and possibly whatever else is contained within a human neck. Esopghagus? Larynx? Trying to kill me. The pressure behind my cheeks is making my eyes water.

It occurred to me the other day that I don't really have anyone on my drunk-dial list. When I bought my Treo, I had to manually transfer numbers from my old phone, and that was a good excuse to dump the numbers of ex-boyfriends of waning (well, waned) importance. Should I become intoxicated, I pretty much just text-message Megan, which is both nonembarrassing and generally even fairly literate. My old phone sent text messages in all-caps; my new one deftly handles proper capitalization and even, say, semicolons.

I wonder what the overlap is between most people's drunk-dial lists and their sick-dial lists. I don't think I have a sick-dial list (I would if I lived in Williamsburg, closer to the people who would be on it). I hope this doesn't get worse; I have a spelling bee tomorrow. If I start posting "someone please help me need soup tylenol dear god" to my blog, well ... I hope that's entertaining for you all.

my mom is saving that prom dress, um ... so she can sell it on eBay if I get famous?

Dear Jen,
I laughed so hard I nearly fell out of my chair. So doing laundry is not worked into your schedule? It's not in mine either. I have some news for you. Look down, that pink prom dress you think you're wearing is imaginary. I know this, because I'm holding the real one right now. The reason people are staring at you is that you're only half dressed, unless of course the jacket is imaginary too. If that's the case then put some clothes on. You're going to catch a cold.
Love the MOM
Related post:
things that have no space in my Treo scheduler

I missed Good Morning America this morning

...but I can't find any evidence of the spelling story on the website. (They did say it could be bumped and might run later instead). Did anyone watch?

I did, however, fill many egregious gaps in my education through the following stories, which are up on the Good Morning America site:
Oprah: Tom Cruise's Couch Jumping Was Wilder Than It Seemed
Are Asian Children Smarter?
Study: Anger Is Good for You
Can Your Cat Make You Crazy?
Is There a Difference Between Tiffany, Costco Diamonds?
Tyra Banks Experiences Obesity Through Fat Suit

Saturday, November 12, 2005

best live blogging EVER

I am blogging from my prop laptop ... in a private airplane ... in a hangar ... wearing fake nails ... doing a shoot for Playgirl. More later! I have a pilot to seduce.

Friday, November 11, 2005

Recap: November 9th Jenny Vaudeville Show

Photography is hard. There you go, just trying to document everything that ever happens to you, and all these bright lights show up as huge, swirling nebulae, and all the colors are weird, and everything is blurry. Here's how it works when I try to take pictures.
Me: Susie Felber, let me take a picture of your breasts!
Brian Van: Do you have a flash on that thing?
Me: I have no idea.
(I attempt to take a picture in the dark with my Treo).
Me: Susie, I will just have to keep your breasts in memory, eternally.
And that's photography! Here are some Treo photos of Wednesday's Jenny Vaudeville Show!

This is me starting off the show, making people groan with my Samuel Alito jokes.

Banjo player Curtis Eller put the vaudeville back in Jenny Vaudeville.

He gets another photo for his crowd work.

A.V. Phibes ate glass! First she gave a lecture on eating glass safely. Remember the "V" stands for "safety and professionalism."

A.V. Phibes asked an audience member to lick this lightbulb in order to verify that it was real.

Unfortunately, the finer points of glass eating cannot be captured by (my) photography. But A.V. was wearing a clever pink suit whilst she crunched into the microphone.

Onion headline writer Sam Means read a hundred or more of his rejected headlines to the intense amusement of all.

Rapper Soce the Elemental Wizard is, in his own lyrical phrasing, "so gay." I liked how his first song was really pornographic, but his last song was kind of about cuddling.

Sam had escaped by this time, but here is
me with Curtis, A.V., and Soce.

Somewhere in there, we had the the Extreme Spelling Challenge, the Comedy Trivia Challenge, and the Guess-the-Author contest (Ayn Rand, guessed by Syd), but since I was on stage running the contests, I couldn't take pictures.

Next Jenny Vaudeville: December 14th, 10pm, Pete's Candy Store! Featuring comedian Carolyn Castiglia rapping in Dutch, Rachel Kramer Bussel reading humorous erotica, comic sketchery from The Rob and Mark Show, and special musical guest Erin and her Cello.

things that have no space in my Treo scheduler

Everyone has been emailing me to ask "When do you sleep???" (Three question marks in series is a not-uncommon ending to this inquiry).

I do sleep. I sleep just fine. I do not, however, eat. Or wash my clothes. I mean, I have a lot of clothes. I don't wear dirty clothes. But I'm down to wearing my old prom dress, with a suit jacket circa-1999-when-I-had-a-dotcom casually thrown over it. (Actual prom photo, circa 1996, at right -- I'm wearing enormous glasses!)

I have a plethora of clean towels and sheets, because those things can be dropped off at the laundromat and washed by other people. Many of my nicer clothes, however, need to be washed cold, on delicate, with Woolite, and hung to dry. I never do this. Almost never.

I am also notorious for getting up, making coffee (I never forget that), putting a piece of bread in the toaster, not noticing when the toast pops, finding the toast all cold and hard two hours later, and eating it anyway.

Right now I am boiling tortellini, which is remarkably like real food (I had tortilla chips for breakfast), but I had to set an actual timer for eight minutes (it's now at 3:41 ... and I'm blogging about it), because without it, I would certainly boil my tortellini to the point of inedibility. And then I would eat them anyway.

Sleeping is no problem. But if you want to do my laundry, call me.

Addendum: Not if you are a male submissive. I know it sounds like a good deal that you want to come do my laundry and serve me or whatever (I've heard from six to eight of you over the last year, and most of you love women's feet in a special way), but I know that you are going to do my laundry incorrectly on purpose just so I'll spank you, and that's just not how I play.

thanks for all the love

I don't know who's been linking to me or giving handjobs on my behalf, but the value of my blog has increased $3,951.78 since the last time I posted about it, making my blog now more valuable than my eggs (last valued at $8,000, now up to $10,000):

My blog is worth $11,855.34.
How much is your blog worth?

I spoke to another comedienne last night about donating eggs. It's weird what the market wants. She was concerned that her SAT scores weren't great, but it turns out she had a great GPA. I was the opposite -- hott SATs, GPA suffering from my propensity to do all kinds of crazy shiznit at once (sound familiar?)

Who knows what people want? I saw one ad from someone looking for an egg donor with no history of male baldness in her family. 100% Japanese or 100% Jewish donors are also in demand.

It's true that many people shopping for eggs want tall, blonde, Roman-nosed women (even if the intended parents look nothing like that), whereas, I think, some intended parents just want to see a picture of a nice girl and kind of fall in love. They want to say "I hope my daughter looks like that in 26 years."


on Good Morning America this Sunday!

The spelling bee story on Good Morning America should run this Sunday (as long as it doesn't get bumped for breaking news). In Manhattan, GMA is on from 8am-9am. Enjoy!

GMA filming over my shoulder at the Oct. 14th Finals

Evilkid + Dangerdame + Dostoevsky

I have been asked, along with burlesque hottie Veronica Varlow of Dangerdame, to model some new products for Evilkid Productions, the company of A.V. Phibes, who ate glass at my Jenny Vaudeville Show on Wednesday. The illustration at right is one of her classics.

This blog is becoming Dostoevskian. Or Tolstoyish, except that his name makes a less apt adjective. Basically, if you just started reading the blog now, you're going to need to catch up on all the characters who, in true Russian-novel style, tend to each have multiple names.

Anyway, Veronica Varlow has also promised to give me a public lapdance at the Dec. 6th JenisFamous Spectacular at CB's Gallery. If you miss that, you're totally gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I'm just saying that you would be a homosexual, and I would support you in that.

I'm not sure why I've been selected to appear in the Evikid catalog -- last time I was asked to demonstrate the positive attributes of merchandise, only my ass was actually needed.

precise instructions for anyone who is stalking me

The radio interview from last night will be airing on Saturday 3am-6am and again from 11am-2pm.

I look up links because I adore you (alternate title: if you are not in New York, this post might not get you off)

Tonight prior to the radio interview, I attended the 30th birthday celebration of Village Voice sex columnist, blogger, and erotica writer Rachel Kramer Bussel. I walked in while she was being roasted by comedian Todd Levin, who was wearing tight red underwear and had "slave" (correction: just "slav," see comments) written across his bare chest, as pictured below (all photos by Brian Van of 485i):

Shortly thereafter, I ran into Michael Malice and S. Morgan Friedman of, and then Jessica Cutler of Washingtonienne and Nadine Haobsh of Jolie in NYC (photo below: me, Jessica, Nadine), both of whom I recognized immediately from various press photos and Gawker entries. Nadine said "I've heard of your blog but not been to it," which is probably just as well -- maybe the day she heard but didn't go was the day I was just posting cat photos instead of being funny or sharing juicy tidbits (like the fact that my ex-boyfriend recently fled the country and mailed me some other woman's socks). I love women with book deals.

I also ran into GirlyNYC and Nichelle plus comics Lianne Stokes and Baron Vaughn, caught a set by Rob Paravonian, and finally was introduced to the illustrious Susie Felber. Between posing for a faux-kissing photo with Lianne, and commenting on how nice Susie's "" button looked pinned to the fabric just barely holding back her cleavage, it was a rather sapphic evening.

I was sad to have to rush home to do the radio interview (a friendly publicist suggested it would be very celebutante of me to do a radio interview from my cellphone on the sidewalk outside a party, preferably while drunk or coked up), but I've got to hand it to RKB for a bash well done. Happy 30th!

shout-out to all my peeps from Montclair State and "The Stress Factor"

I just now got off the phone with Lou Ruggieri, host of radio program The Stress Factor, recorded live at Montclair State University (pictured). We had a fantastic interview in which the hosts played my "Fairy Princess Name" bit (Lou liked the part about going to get a beer)...

Fairy Princess Name

...we talked about dating and comedy (and how a crockpot is a great replacement for a boyfriend), I invited everyone to my December 6th (my birthday!) Jenisfamous Spectacular at CB's Gallery, and I discussed in somewhat euphemistic terms, referring listeners to the site to find out what a T.B.M. is (and oh, do you want to know).

I'll post a link to the broadcast as soon as it becomes available. Mad shout-out to any new visitors coming in from the radio show!

Thursday, November 10, 2005

if I get a good response, I might start doing these on the blog regularly

My comedy-writing class required me to write a Letterman-style top ten list. So, here it is:

The Senate voted 90-9 to approve a ban against the use of torture by the US government, while Vice President Cheney has led the fight against the ban, saying that Congress shouldn't interfere with "what we are trying to do to detain and interrogate the worst of the worst." Other pieces of legislation Cheney has come out against:
10. ASPCA ban on forcing Dobermans to wear hoods and lay naked in piles

9. Arbor Day

8. Pear County, Texas' city council resolution to recognize school lunch lady Yolanda Evans for forty-five years of food service

7. The Treaty of Ghent

6. Ban against use of electric shock in underperforming public schools

5. Public health bill providing first aid for citizens with gushing head wounds

4. Resolution against submitting Senator Mike Crapo (R-Idaho) to additional "swishies" in Senate men's room toilet.

3. Amish Country guideline against whipping with birch branches longer than height of child.

2. Daughter Mary's proposal that, at Thanksgiving, gay family members get to sit at the grownups' table.

1. The U.S. Constitution
Ba dump-bump? Hrm.

Jenny Vaudeville recap coming at some future undetermined time

I do have Treo photos and a recap of last night's Jenny Vaudeville, but I don't think I'll get a chance to do it today. It was a colossal show, and also the first time I have ever sung anything on stage (an impromptu rendition of "Bicycle Built for Two," which had been featured in a trivia question a few moments earlier, and which I was singing to fill space while we waited for trivia results to be tallied).

(The question was: What was the name of the girl in the song "Bicycle Built for Two"? The answer is Daisy).

received as part of a cheering-up letter from a friend

"Also, there are people without noses. NO NOSE!!! Having no nose would really cramp your style --- think of all the fantastic things that are part of your life because you have a nose! Like nice smells and nose piercing and not looking like a freak."

We've asked repeatedly. But just in case we didn't get the hint:

(click to see full-size)

note the reviews -- it is "much larger" than most users expected (and they return to the website to warn others?)

Amazon is selling a 5 Speed Magic Wand Personal Massager Vibrator for sixty-nine cents, a reduction of 97%. If you buy seventy-three of them (to meet the $50 minimum), you can even get free shipping.

Inopinate. Use it in a sentence: I wanted to see a movie about spelling bees, but "Bee Season" had an inopinate plot.

Brian says: A few of my moviegoing friends have recently recommended that I inform Jen about "Bee Season," a new movie coming out this weekend, because it has something to do with spelling bees. Indeed, spelling bees are a part of the main plot, but the movie isn't entirely about them. Your tolerance ability of Richard Gere nonwithstanding, here's what you should expect from the movie, based on a review from
...the film is ice cold.
A ringing endorsement if there ever was one. Anyway, this movie is more of a family/religious drama than it is a movie about spelling bees. The bees themselves are a MacGuffin; the Eliza character could just as easily be competing in chess or Scrabble, and it seems like the movie would be hardly changed.

So, we're neither endorsing nor panning this movie at this point. Just know for your spelling-bee-obsessed information needs, "Spellbound" it ain't. Jen's not sure if she'll catch it, but I know I'm saving my money for the upcoming Hungry Hungry Hippos documentary.

(what, there isn't a Hungry Hungry Hippos documentary in the works? Well, there should be!)

Wednesday, November 9, 2005

Tonight! The Jenny Vaudeville Show!

The Jenny Vaudeville Show
Wednesday, Nov. 9, 10pm, FREE
Pete's Candy Store, 709 Lorimer St.

Musical comedy, ventriloquism, magic, dancing unicorns! Audience members can win prizes in trivia and literary contests! Emceed by comedienne, this month featuring glass-eater A.V. Phibes (pictured), banjo player Curtis Eller, Onion writer Sam Means reading his rejected headlines, and medieval Jewish rapper Soce the Elemental Wizard.

Directions to Pete's: Take the L train to the second stop in Brooklyn, Lorimer. Walk on Lorimer for 1.5 blocks in the direction of the BQE. Pete's is at 709 Lorimer Street, between Frost and Richardson. (718) 302-3770.

click to enlarge your manhood

Dr. Sketchy's Anti-Art School

My soulmate-in-crime Molly Crabapple, together with the woman who is eating glass at my vaudeville show today, have founded Dr. Sketchy's Anti-Art School. If you are in Williamsburg or can get there and you like to draw and you are bored by things that are boring and prefer things that are not, Dr. Sketchy's is for you.

open letter to man on 6 train with cameraphone

Dear middle-aged Hispanic man with cute but badly-behaved daughter,

Yes, it is fun to take photos and videos of your daughter and play them back to her. It is not, however, fun for other passengers when you make cellphone recordings of your daughter screaming at the top of her lungs, and then play the recordings back, repeatedly. Did you know that your daughter's screams are even more shrill and piercing when filtered through the poor sound quality of a cellphone speaker? Did you know that allowing your daughter to scream at you, repeatedly, demanding that you play back the recording yet again is an inappropriate behavior for a child of any age on the subway, and that by indulging this behavior, you make yourself look like you have no idea how to be a parent? Also, you made me uncomfortable during the minute and a half or so that you pointed your cellphone camera in my direction, but I assumed that I was being paranoid and you were simply watching something on the screen. However, when you turned the phone around, said "That's you!" and replayed a video of me, I was ready to call the ACLU. Or the NYPD. Someone with four letters. I did, in fact, say "That's very rude." "That's rude?" you said. "Yes," I said, decisively. I wanted to also say "You are raising your daughter to be the kind of person no one will like," but I didn't, because that might make me such a person, at least for a moment, so I kept my mouth shut. But I hate you.


the blog gets dirty

Today I wore my new neighborhoodie, which is a red-on-asphalt t-shirt that says "not famous yet." The first person to notice was Baron Vaughn, who rolled his eyes. "Is that custom made?" he asked.

According to his blog, Baron apparently met an Asian chick on Halloween who, when asked about her costume, replied "I'm a Tsexy Tsunami. I'ma drown you in my kisses." That's good taste if I ever tasted an Asian chick.

Tuesday, November 8, 2005

if you saw a sparkly pink-clad woman storming down St. Marx on a mission, that was me

After my show, I went to see the band Volcano at Lit in the East Village. (I've mentioned Volcano before, due to the lurid interest factor of bands with twins, but they were really quite good; you can hear them here.

After Volcano, I had a hell of a time finding some dumplings. You'd think that if you ever wanted dumplings on Monday at midnight, the East Village would be a pretty good bet. Nope. I eventually found some gyoza from an underpatronized sushi place, but I really wanted Chinese dumplings, not Japanese. Damn you, Dumpling Man, for being closed!

kitty heaven, where balls of yarn rain gently from the sky

Cow's profile on Catster has been viewed 89 times. Cow has developed a number of online cat friends, some of whom are ... deceased.

Yes, if you put your cat on Catster, dead cats will request its friendship.

This reminded of me comedian Rachael Parenta's bit about what you do when your Friendster dies. At least Rachael's deceased Friendster requested her friendship while still living.


Recap: November 7th Comedy Show and Tell at Pete's Candy Store

First item of business -- this was the last-ever Comedy Show & Tell! But don't be sad -- we're just changing our name. The new show will keep the "back to school" theme (every Monday at Pete's is either spelling or comedy) and the show and tell component, but will also incorporate 1) free candy, and 2) Mad Libs! The name of this show -- all due credit to Syd Bernstein -- is....

The After-School Comedy Special

Each show I get to make up a theme, like "Just say no to drugs," or "Don't let adults touch your bathing-suit area."

My show and tell: my ex-boyfriend mailed me a package of my things, including some other girl's socks. Now, the socks probably just came back in his laundry and he assumed they were mine, but I rather enjoy saying the phrase "one-night stand socks."

And now, on to the recap!

This is me. What am I wearing? Is that a sparkly pink dress ... over pants? With a corset? My mother lets me out of the house like this?

Tim Warner kicked off the show. If blowjobs are the only way to get a president out of office, Tim will take one for the team.

Joe was our first show-and-teller. He brought in an old book about World War II, the content of which alternated disturbingly from "My daddy's a GI!" to "Let's set the Japanese on fire!" Yikes.

April Brucker usually performs with her puppet, May, but this lady can hold her own doing standup!

Megan's show and tell was a demonstration of techniques from her voiceover class. What amazing eloqution! "That's why I use Clinique!"

Fred showed us his sketchbook, full of dirty secrets.

Our next comic, Adrienne, had a man on the street yell at her "You're fat!" She replied "You're observant!"

Syd's show and tell was a CD insert signed by one of the members of Veruca Salt. As is usual from Syd, there were many more theatrics involved in the presentation of this item.

Aaron has had this squirrel lamp his entire life.

Look at the crowd! You're so pretty on my Treo!

Carolyn Castiglia had to write new jokes now that she's had her baby. Did you know breastfeeding can seem "kinda gay"?

What would comedy be without Carolyn's trademark stage gymnastics?

It's me again, telling everyone to come to the Jenny Vaudeville show this Wednesday night at 10pm for magic and amazement.

And come back in two weeks for the first-ever
After-School Comedy Special:
Crack is not for children.

half off tax preparation and bananas sent me a coupon for 20% off slippers and accessories. Are we accessorizing slippers now? If I'm shuffling around in bunny slippers, wearing my glasses and drinking coffee, do I need to have the perfect watch or headband?

Sunday, November 6, 2005

stay away from this man's calamari

On November 4th, 2004, I blogged about a very special variety show act I had seen at Schaffer the Darklord's show:
We were also treated to a performance by Dr. Powernozzle and Eugene the Human Doormat... During their act, Dr. Powernozzle vacuums, steps on, and verbally abuses Eugene, the human doormat, and this is indeed funny, except that Eugene is a creepy middle-aged man who repeatedly informed me that I, too, could vacuum and step on him should I choose.... there's absolutely no way I'm stepping on someone's face without getting paid a whole freaking lot of money.
Shortly after this performance, Dr. Powernozzle (a.k.a, "Crazy A," female singer/comic) and Eugene stopped working together, and Eugene went on to look for women to "perform" with him. A year later, Crazy A sends me this from the New York Post:

A former Electrolux salesman and performer who invites the audience to vacuum him onstage has been charged with making more than 400 lewd calls to a Queens hotel.

Eugene Calamari Jr., 47, of Woodside, allegedly called the Ramada Inn in Bayside 30 times a day between last Dec. 28 and Jan. 12, asking the receptionist to perform sexual favors for him with a vacuum and her long hair.
And he told me it was all an act!

blog! chase ball of yarn! demand tuna! blog!

Imagine me letting out a big, resigned sigh, and then announcing that, dear lord, there is a Catster, and dear lord, my cat is on it.

Cow's Catster profile

The site is, of course, too cute for words:

Saturday, November 5, 2005

those eggs are out there -- you never know...

I told my mother about my application to Armed Forces Entertainment (the USO-junior, for the diminutively famous), and she wanted to know if I'd be going to Iraq. She said: "We can't let anything happen to you because it would be impossible to make a new one."

a shout-out to all my Aqua Teen peeps

My mind is like a LASER!

That is all.

Substantive discussion will recommence shortly.

the state of modern education (and precivilization)

I taught in a public school today. This is someone's school project about the Neolithic era -- in advertising form!

I love my inbox

Today I received the following from John Leavitt, illustrator of my CD cover, occasional burlesque straight-man, and general man-about-town; his reference is to the New York Times article about the spelling bee:
Dear Jen:

I created this cartoon for consideration at the New Yorker when you had your social victory. They didn't buy it, but maybe it can still be put to good use.

Best Regards,


Friday, November 4, 2005


A friend of a friend works at Shakespeare & Co., and reports that...
Today in the store, a woman holding up a copy of "Ulysses" asked, "Is this his latest book?"

if only actual anorexics were as efficient as I

I was in Times Square tonight at 10:30pm trying to get a hamburger. Over the past month or so I have often been too busy to eat, and then I get myself into a long class or meeting and by the end I am so ravenous that as soon as I can escape I'm in a fried chicken joint ordering a hamburger but smelling chicken and wondering if it would be wrong to have both (yes, it would).

Eating is for the unproductive.

Thursday, November 3, 2005

My Yesterday - in Treo photos!

In case you are interested, or living vicariously through my Playgirl-style exploits. You voyeur, you.

I was at FIT in the morning and discovered that a student is working on a painting of me. I'm holding a fish, but that part isn't done yet.

The Fabric Design Club had a bake sale. They made Pantone-color cupcakes! I bought the light blue one.

These girls just looked cool, with their headscarves and their digital organizing. The one on the right -- is she extra-Islamic, or just cold?

Top entry on the Culturally Insensitive Business Names roster (until someone opens the Golda Meir Hammery). Mecca of Hair -- we will take your weave on the Hajj!

I stopped by the Jigsaw Gallery, purveyors of comics and "shoestring media," which included this painting, which I purchased, gleefully.

I ate peirogies for dinner at that bizarre Ukrainian restaurant on 2nd Ave, hidden in the back of an office-type building. I didn't photograph dinner, but here are some flowers I received, and my cat nosing into them. (The flowers have since been moved to a location safer for both them and the cat).

Another thing I was doing at the Jigsaw Gallery was picking up something for my brother's birthday. Roundabout dinnertime, I was thinking it would be nice to add something little and silly to the something I picked up for him, so I stopped into an Asian grocery store and bought these tiny roasted crabs. Hey Brian: You've got crabs!!! Hahahahaha. Sibling rivalry never ends.

And that's a day! No hot beefcake photos for you guys. Wait 'til Playgirl comes out!

Wednesday, November 2, 2005

my Alito jokes went over just fine, actually

Could Ann Coulter really possibly mean this? It's like she's writing the Onion article about herself:
"The ethic of conservation is the explicit abnegation of man's dominion over the Earth. The lower species are here for our use. God said so: Go forth, be fruitful, multiply, and rape the planet -- it's yours. That's our job: drilling, mining and stripping. Sweaters are the anti-Biblical view. Big gas-guzzling cars with phones and CD players and wet bars -- that's the Biblical view."
- Ann in her latest column
My Laughing Liberally callback last night -- I thought it went well (Bush isn't too clear on what's happening in Iraq, but he's certain he knows the cause of this Avian Flu -- "city folk drinkin' all that fancy water." Avian ... for health and beauty), but then after my set this woman at the bar said to me, consolingly: "We can't be on all the time."

The producers of Laughing Liberally specifically asked for political material and asked in the initial interview if we could write new material on a regular basis, so I'm assuming they wanted actual jokes based on the news. A solid half of the other comics I saw, however, seemed to just be doing their regular sets. One very funny lady, though, performed quotes from Bush's speeches as slam poetry, which pretty much knocked us all on our assess.

Later in the night, I had the pleasure of running into Eugene Mirman outside Galapagos. That makes me a little tingly.

(Eugene Addendum: This video is so funny it will make you pee).

Tuesday, November 1, 2005

nature versus nurture

My brother, a 22 year old salesman and firefighter in Virginia, now has three pets: "I have two ferrets known as Mr. Ferret and his hetero-life-mate Cha-Cha. I also have a small beta fish in a giant brandy glass on my bar. His name is Kim Jong Il. He rules his brandy glass ruthlessly."

The comedy never stops in the Dziura family.

Megan wrote about me and my brother: "It's so sweet that you both play nerdy stringed instruments." (She's allowed to say that, as she plays the clarinet in a polka band).

and for that, she gets a "grammatically correct comedy" magnet

In her interview, Molly attempted to use a word that does not exist. I asked her what word she might have intended, and she called me a "grammatical she-Stalin."

laughing liberally

I'm working out my jokes for my set tonight (which is actually a callback audition for the Laughing Liberally tour). I had to google to remind myself whether it was Jesse Helms or Strom Thurmond who is still alive (it's Helms).

L train as sex object

Pete's has a new poster for the spelling bee and for Comedy Show & Tell. It's a "Back to School Mondays" theme, with a creepy little girl straddling a train on the Williamsburg Bridge. Designed by Jenny Vaudeville alumnus Josh Grosvent.

click to enlarge

Interview: Molly Crabapple makes a business of dirty Victoriana

I have elected to intermittently interview people on this blog. Welcome to the first such interview, currently featured on IllustrationMundo:
Molly Crabapple makes a business of dirty Victoriana

by Jennifer Dziura

Molly Crabapple is a New York based illustrator who has crafted a career out of the small niche of perverse Victoriana. Those who have seen her work for burlesque troupes, SCREW magazine, or on, cannot help but wonder where a twenty-two year old got the idea to draw a barely-clad woman performing a burlesque act with her tapeworm, accompanied by the legend "Moral: Capitalize on Faults."

Click to

Comedy Show & Tell October 24th

I didn't post a recap of the October 24th Comedy Show & Tell (like the recap of the October 10th show), but the show was marked by great sets from Laura Mannino, Shaun Eli, Dave O'Gara, and Jackie Cohen.

Jackie, pictured, brought in a ten-pound jar of Nutella as her show and tell item -- lugged all the way from Manhattan. (At first, it had seemed like a great gift, but anyone gets tired of Nutella after the first couple pounds, and she was afraid it would start getting gross).

Jackie writes: "There was almost a nutella disaster on the way home... rain + paper bag + heavy contents = near miss of nutella all over the 14th st. subway stop. i ended up telling the story the next night in my set...."

And there, my friends, is where comedy comes from.
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