Let's Talk About Sex Part 4 Mom, "V"s & Double "A" Batteries

All your advice has been so amazing. First, I thought the most brilliant plan would be to shop for one or two ("sighs", shakes head) "sex toys" before my Mom comes and then present them to her when she asks when we can go shopping.

But then someone said that right now my Mom needs support and that made me think that, if, the second she brings up the idea of us going "V" shopping together, I throw rubbery, vibrating things at her in disgust and run out of the room, well, THAT would not be very supportive.

Clearly, the person with the problem here is me. And after being raised ultra-Catholic, I have kind of resented having to find my way around my own sexuality with no help or advice and certainly many times too mortified to ask for help or advice, only to wish that I had: "It does what???? It goes where???? Wait, is that last thing he suggested even legal????")

(PS, for the person who said they didn't even know how to use a tampon in the comments section, well I thought I did - I put THE WHOLE THING IN. Yes, THE WHOLE THING.)

So, here's my Mom, still young and perky at 62 and she has had no one to ask about these things either. I would like to try and be that person. I just have to practice not going completely white, fainting and throwing up each time a "V"... ugh, a vibrator is brought up.

The solution (besides wine?): I am going to go with my two sexperts pals L & S on a maiden voyage to the sex store. It'll be like a pre-shop where I can ask the people what would be best for my Mom and get myself a little more comfortable. (We might need ten of these trips. They'll be like fire drills, except with chardonnay and barf buckets.)

Deepest fears? I think it's when commenter EM said that she once went shopping for "oils" with her Mom. It never occurred to me that there might be BROWSING and LINGERING in the other aisles of the sex shop. First, it's oils, next it's ticklers, then it's bondagey handcuff thing-ys!!! I thought the vibrator was my problem? Instead it's only the gateway drug to whips and full body rubber suits!

Perhaps I should not have given up my therapist.


This blog is dedicated to Ben & Jerry's ice cream.

Let's Talk About Sex Part 4
Mom, "V"s & Double "A" Batteries

Let's Talk About Sex Part 3 This Time... There's No Escape

Yes, we're going to talk about naughty things but before we do that, let's talk some BLOG BUSINESS. I see you lurkers out there, peeping my pain for 20 or 30 minutes at a time, hundreds and hundreds of you a day. And you don't leave comments? What are you savages??? You comments are directly related to my self-esteem!

Okay. Let's get to the sex. I'll set the scene. My mother and I are in the hospital waiting room before we go see my Grandmother who we've just learned needs open heart surgery. My Mom says she has something she really wants to talk to me about.

Let me add that my mother has a Prayer Day for each of my family members and went to Church three times this week, once on Sunday, once on "The Feast of the Blessed Mother" and once on "The Feast of the Epiphany." Three times! She is a GOOD GIRL. I've never heard her swear in my life.

Okay, we're at the hospital. And... Action.

Mom: "I really want to talk to you about something."
Me: "Sure."
Mom: "I think I want a vibrator."

Inner Dialogue: "Do Not Laugh. Do not laugh. Do not LAUGHHHHHHHHHHH."

Me: (tentatively) "Okay."
Mom: "And I would like you to help me pick one out."

INNER IMAGINATION: I pass out, I'm spayled face down on the waiting room floor. Nurse: "We've got a Code 51: Daughter down due to too much info about Mom's SEX LIFE! We need a crash cart and a time machine to erase the last five minutes of her life."

Somehow I got out of it, what with keeping vigil by my Grandmother's bed and my mom going to Mass 24 hours a day. Soon it was time for me to leave. The day I left, my Mom and I are having a tearful GOOD-BYE in the driveway.

ME: "Mom, don't cry, I'll be back soon."
MOM: "But we didn't even get a chance to look at the catalogues."

You know... for her vibrator.

I swear she said it as sincerely as if she was saying, "But we hardly had a chance to spend any time togther." ("LOOKING AT VIBRATOR CATALOGUES!")

I go back to LA... and it's not long before she calls me. She coming to visit. She already has a plane ticket. Won't spending some girl time together be fun? (No, no! It will not be fun!) I don't want to go vibrator shopping with my Mom.

What was the point of dedicating all that time making me ashamed about sex and my body like a good Catholic Mom just to throw it all away?

Deepest fears? I think it's when commenter EM said that she once went shopping for "oils" with her Mom. It never occurred to me that there might be BROWSING and LINGERING in the other aisles of the sex shop.

Oh, God.

Perhaps I should not have given up my therapist.


Feel free to guess how soon my Mom will bring up the topic. I'm guessing within 24 hours.

Let's Talk About Sex Part 3
This Time... There's No Escape

The Importance of Being Fierce

It's amazing if we open ourselves up, how much we can learn from others. Right now, I am learning so much from a 15 year-old girl who has flown from NYC to Vegas to be with her sister who is very sick with cancer.

This girl is the very definition of fierce. I might even call her ferocious. And I cheer her on and I send encouraging emails and I tell her to kick ass if she needs to.

Because when I was her age, I wish I had done the same. We had just learned my cousin had been in a skiing accident and there was no hope, no sign of brain activity. All I wanted to do was get on a bus and get to him and be able to hold his hand while he was alive and say, "I love you."

But I didn't. I was a good girl and good girls don't stand up for themselves or make foolish requests. My dad and mom were 3,000 miles away while my dad was having a heart transplant and I was living with a different family. I knew I was expected to not make waves or inconvenience anyone, so I stayed quiet. It is always been my greatest regret that I didn't just take a bus to the Greyhound Station and take the three hour trip.

Because even though I would have gotten in trouble, I would have been true to myself.

So, here I am, chatting online with a fifteen year-old, that quite frankly, I find stronger than most people I know. I don't think one person would even think to say "no" to her. She is very scared for her sister, but she still knows what she wants, how she wants her sister cared for and she GOES FOR IT with fierci-osity.

I don't know what the outcome will be. I know her sister through an online community and I am sick with worry everyday, waiting to hear what we may or may not want to know.

But for today, I take this lesson of a girl who is not thinking about being polite, or a "good girl" or just doing what she's told. She will have no regrets in life, because she will always be true to her heart.

I want to be like her. Kind of like I've never wanted to be like anyone. So, just like she is sitting by her sick sister, whispering in her ear healing thoughts and ferocious words of encouragement, I will imagine, she is doing the same for me.


This blog is dedicated to dogs that kiss with tongue.

The Importance of Being Fierce

Adventure Bowl Week 2 Feeling the Rush, Of the Blue Crush

This afternoon, I swished my hand inside the Adventure Bowl and prayed I'd get a goody. Something that would be adventurous and be accomplished while lying down would be pretty sweet!

I reached in and it said, "Today you are going skim boarding." I'm not going to lie, I didn't want to do it. But Rule #1 of Adventure Bowl is you can't say "no." Oh, yeah, there are rules, people!

If you don't know what skim boarding is, at first glance, it looks like surfing for losers. You take the skim board which is 1/3 the size of a surf board and very thin, and hurl it into the end of a wave like it was a Frisbee. Then as the board is moving, you jump on and ride the last bit of the wave. You go really fast and really far and it can make you feel SUPER TOUGH.

Unless of course, you have not skim boarded in two years and in that time you have gained an EXTRA ASS and as you jump on your skim board, YOU SINK REALLY FAST. In front of people. On a crowded beach. Which happened to me, on this adventure.

Right after it happened, this little six year old goes whizzing by me, showing me how it's done. I SWEAR HE WAS METAPHORICALLY GIVING ME THE FINGER. Since drowning a six year old to make myself feel better was out of the question (I could never run fast enough to my car after, the sand slows you down), I instead went over to the surf shop to rent another skim board.

A big girl's skim board (eye roll).

"How much do you weigh?" said the kid behind the counter.
"I don't know." (Oh, I know! I know very, very well.)
"Well, what would you guess?"
"Um... is there a board for 'a lot,' as in 'I weigh a lot.'"
"No. There are people behind you. Just give me a ballpark."
"Okay, I weigh what you weigh (small voice) plus, like ten pounds more."
"There's no way you weigh what I weigh. (LOUD VOICE) Hey, Tyler, this lady is trying to say she weighs what I weigh."
"Hey, can you pipe down just a little!"
"Sorry, M'am."

UH!!!! What???? Did he just call me "M'am." He did. He recklessly M'am-ed me. A young lady like me.

Yes, I got another board. A hefty girl's board. And I skimmed and it felt awesome. But what was crazy was that it wasn't the skim boarding that made my day. It was realizing that doing this adventure gave me the feeling of perseverance, even in the face of embarrassment.

For me, it would have been so easy to pack up and go home. But I don't want to pack up and go home. I want to do things. Things that defy my abilities. Things that test me and make me come out a winner. So I took the strength I got from doing the last adventure and I brought it with me today. It was like a little voice, "You are stronger now... you can do this... keep your promise to yourself."

And I did. And now the next time I want to give up, I'll remember trudging back down to the beach with my new board and riding it kind of bumpily but mostly awesomely and victoriously.

In your face, onlookers!


This blog is dedicated to fearless six year-olds everywhere.

Adventure Bowl Week 2
Feeling the Rush, Of the Blue Crush

"And Then I Started This Blog About Being A Comedy Writer Who Goes Through Depression and Gets A Big Fat Ass... But It's Funny... I Swear"

I love Studio meetings. You only get the meeting if they like what they've read, so already you're going in with people liking you. I like when people like me. And then they ask you questions about your life and you feel like you must be very interesting, like your on a hipper version of "The Charlie Rose Show."

The thing that always comes up is, "How have you been spending your time since your last show?"

"I produced two plays, wrote a spec, an awesome pilot and outlined a second." But I always fantasize about adding this lil' diddy, "But right after the last show, after my cousin was killed and my mom had a nervous breakdown, I mostly laid on the couch with the heat cranked up and the curtains closed. That's even if I've even gotten out of bed and had my breakfast of Doritos and Diet Orange Shasta."

But if you say that, the meeting ends, your sticker pass is abruptly ripped from the blazer you're going to return to Bloomingdales after the meeting and security leads you out and takes note of your license plate so the mistake of letting you on the lot never happens again.

The thing is, now that I have started this blog and gotten tens of thousands of hits, and I hear "the blog is the new and hip thing" and there's nothing better that I like than to be is "the new and hip thing" unless the choice could be, "the new and thin thing," I really REALLY wanna brag about this blog in a meeting.

But sometimes when I start with the story that is impetus for this blog - the murder of my cousin, the losing of my job, then my boyfriend, my mother's nervous breakdown after my cousin's trial all in the course of one year... the room gets really silent.

"I swear though... it's really funny." Crickets, crickets, crickets.

Maybe it could have never seemed funny, ever, even to me. But the reason I wrote this blog was because some of the things that happned were so HILARIOUS, so ABSURD, that I felt like if I didn't write them down, I would not have believed them myself.

For example, my Mom was having her nervous breakdown and it was after midnight. We were afraid if we brought her to the hospital like that they would committ her and it would make her condition worse. My sister and I just looked at each other, trying to come up with a plan, and at the same time said, "Ambien."

So we drugged her. I know I'm laughing! Because it was absurd. A glimpse of human nature of two scared daughters who thought the way to protect their mother was to drug her into sleep so they could catch their breath and come up with a plan.

E took Mom upstairs and I went into the kitchen to check on my Dad. "How are you?" He fingered a can of tuna my sister had brought back from Europe. "This tuna... I won't eat it. I only like tuna packed in water."

That's how he was doing. He was not there.

At the hospital, we brought water, fruit, nuts, magazines and two dozen donuts. It was like we were packing for a road trip. My sister and I went in one car and my father and mother in another. My father dropped my mother, a woman who doesn't, now, even know her date of birth, off in front and parked the car. My mother entered the emergency room and seeing the Au Bon Pain restaurant set up in front, thought she was in Au Bon Pain and left.

We had lost our mother at the hospital. Maybe I'm a bad daughter. I didn't find it funny then, but I do now.

'Cause that's how we heal, when we can laugh about these things. Maybe they're not stories for meetings but they are a hell of a bunch of stories, proving that you can go through hell and come back the other side... and even find some of it, kinda funny.


This blog is dedicated to tuna packed in water.

"And Then I Started This Blog About Being A Comedy Writer Who Goes Through Depression and Gets A Big Fat Ass... But It's Funny... I Swear"

Adventure Bowl Week 1 Callous Cream is Your Friend

So here's the deal. From now on every week, on a Saturday or a Sunday, I will be doing some fun little adventure in order to get my butt out of bed, give myself a reason to shave my legs, all while connecting with humanity and keeping the ugly depression monster at bay.

This past weekend, I reached into the adventure bowl and pulled out a beauty, "Go get a pedicure." Rock on! For Week One, I needed it to be something simple. Kayaking in Malibu would have sent me under the covers.

Now you're saying, "What kind of adventure is getting a pedicure. Some people do that once a week. Slutty socialites even do it twice a week." Hey, if you have bed sores from being practically ambulatory from a soul crushing depression, an adventure is like, sleeping on a bed that's actually been made in the past week, okay?

Pipe down.

I have only had a pedicure maybe two times in my life. The reason I put it in the adventure bowl was because my feet look "broke down," they are like monkey feet if monkey feet had talons for toe nails. My heels are cracked from be-bopping around town in flip flops. Plus, there was the whole luxury angle, the literal "taking care of me."

I headed over to the pedicure place, grabbed red nail polish a color WHICH I HAVE NEVER USED IN MY LIFE. But these are adventures and adventures beg for adventure toes.

The woman who was doing my pedicure took one look at my toes and feet and put on plastic gloves, a surgical mask and plastic goggles. I half wondered if she was going to ring a bell for a surgical team who would confer and decide it would just be easier to amputate my feet rather than administer a pedicure.

But instead, this woman WENT TO WORK. She had to pull out some sort of power tool that most resembled some sort of circular sander and she power buffed and fluffed my feet while shards of cracked heel went every where. (When she wiped the sweat off her brow, I buried my face in "InStyle" magazine hoping no one was noticing.

She painted my toes the most gorgeous ruby red and I was dazzled. My heels looked beautiful and I felt like a real live girl. I said to her, "Thank you so much, they look so beautiful." She said, "Yes, when you come in, SO GROSS, but now so beautiful." Her frankness almost made me fall out of my chair.

So there you have it. Week One down and so many more to go. What's your adventure? How are you thrilling and surprising and taking care of yourself?

This blog is dedicated to Boston Creme Donuts.

Adventure Bowl Week 1
Callous Cream is Your Friend

I'll Take Big Butts for $200

I'm in a crap-tas-tic mood. What has put me here is fear, anger, finances, futurizing, re-writing the rewritten rewrite, an empty fridge, a non self-cleaning house, cups of tea that cost $5.00 (WTF?), unsupportive people, bad drivers, over due library books and no sex prospects.

All this and it's not even like I'm having my period.

So I'm trying to cheer myself up. I've decided that it would be really funny if my life was a game show, like "Jeopardy."

"Alex, I'll take 'Big Butts' for $100."
"They're savory and delcious, just don't burn your fingers when you're making them."
"WHAT ARE DONUTS!"
"Yes!"
"I'll take 'Big Butts' for $200."
"They may be for a woman with child but you can wear these in a pinch."
"WHAT ARE MATERNITY JEANS!"
"Yes!"
"Okay, Alex, I think I'm going to change it up a bit. I'll go to 'Disappointing Your Mother' for $50."
"She would probably love you more if you were what?"
"WHAT IS ENGAGED????"
"No, I'm sorry, the answer to that was 'thin.' She would probably love you more if you were 'thin.'"
"Um, Alex, I feel like that question belonged in the 'Big Butts' category. It makes no sense being in this category."

Then Alex and I argue on national live TV and I am dragged off the stage by security which is really embarrassing because I'm wearing my jeans that are too tight and tied with a scarf because the zipper is broken but they are the only ones that even come close to fitting and I can only imagine that my mother, who thought she would finally have something good to write about me in the Christmas Newsletter is now at home shaking her head and thinking, "Alex is right, I would love her more if she was thin."

I'll Take Big Butts for $200

Matthew

Matthew is my cousin David's younger brother. Now Matthew is an only child after David was taken away from us by a raving lunatic who somehow slipped through the system and was let out of the crazy hospital too soon only to score some crystal meth and decide that that night he would really like to kill someone.

When I see Matthew, who we now call Matty, who is our baby, who walks on water, who we pay for everything when he is around to somewhat make up for having his brother be murdered, my heart kind of breaks and I always feel very emotional after.

It's because he is wise and smart and sensitive and forgiving and loving and commpassionate and has forgiven his brother's killer and is easy to make laugh AND he is LIV-LIV-LIVING. How easy it would be, to be the opposite of all these things.

He is touring with his band. After his brother died, I think he got the sense that, anything can happen at anytime, we are all so... unsafe from having our lives ripped out from underneath us all. I think he thought, "I'd rather have my life ripped out from underneath me living my dream and playing my guitar than stuck in a cubicle banging on a computer keyboard."

So he is touring in L.A. E, my sister came to town to see him. They are like new best friends, closer in age than Matty and I, yet their is this fierceness to E, fiercely protective and loving of him and I think if someone hurt him, they would have to deal with her and that would not be pretty.

He said to us this morning, "You guys treat me like I'm a baby." Yes, we do and we will. We don't want you to suffer or worry or want for anything ever again. No one can hurt you if we are here. Did you see the brick wall we built around you? No one can get to you without getting through us.

Then he talked about driving all over the U.S. of A., in a van, with his friends and he said, "It's amazing how kind everyone is, people are so friendly and nice. I needed to see that of humanity, it's very healing for me." I know he's speaking of David's murder, it's in the room again, which is always firsts jars me and then comforts me. He knows he is safe. He can talk about anything with us.

We kind of, me, he and E, took a drunken pact one night that we would not be like the generation before us, keeping secrets and telling lies and holding all the pain is. Matty said that night, "I feel like I lost my brother but I got three sisters in return."

He is a good boy. He says, "I love you" on the phone and he says "I love you" instead good-bye. Sometimes, I think he's the strongest one of all of us.

Matthew

Adventure Bowl 2008

Life doesn't have to be boring. Fun times are not just reserved for Hawaiian vacations.

My co-worker H used to make fun of me because I am an obsessive-compulsive list maker. There is something so satisfying about writing something down you have to do and then crossing it off. This morning I was thinking, "Why do all the things on my list have to be so damn boring?" Do I want them to put on my headstone, "She always remembered to go to the bank and buy stamps."

Hell no!

A few years ago, when I felt my life was getting insanely routine: wake, workout, work, TV time, sleep, RINSE REPEAT, I decided to make a list of all the fun things I wanted to do. Then I put them on little scraps of paper and put them in a big clear bowl - THE ADVENTURE BOWL.

On the weekend, I would have to pick one thing AND I WOULD HAVE TO DO IT! It really injected a sense of fun, adventure and spontaneity into my life that I REALLY needed. Sometimes, I could grab a friend to go with me, sometimes not, but the point was NOT to waste weekend time with just running errands, returning phone calls and paying bills.

So, I am whipping the Adventure Bowl back out for '08. Anyone care to join me? The best thing about this one is it's going to be The Frugal Girl's Adventure Bowl as my accountant (my Bank of America bank statement) says that's the only way it can be done!

What's your idea of adventure? Here's the thing, it doesn't have to be that hard. It can be, "I'm going to get a pedicure today in a color I have never gotten before." "I'm going to take a new class at the gym today." "I'm going to sit in a beautiful hotel lobby with a cup of tea and write in my journal." "I'm going to show up at the soup kitchen and serve lunch."

The best thing is this not only feeds you with FUN, but it can help if you and a boyfriend or even you and your kids need to push yourself into doing something new.

Okay, here's my list which I reserve the right to add to:

1) Have a margarita at The Beverly Hills Pennisula Hotel, outside by the fireplace
2) Go to the MOMA downtown - I love Modern Art, I feel so much less intimidated by it
3) Suri Bikes! Have you ever seen these? They are these crazy Italian bikes that look like carts, you ride up front but they have four wheels and everyone I ever see riding them looks like they are having a blast!
4) Yoga, yoga, yoga. First class, always free.
5) I want to sit up at The Griffin Observatory at night and watch the sunset
6) Rock climbing. There is a store on the westside where you can do demos for free.
7) Rent a bike and ride along the ocean. Watch cute surfers after.
8) Take a pottery class, there is a drop in place in L.A.
9) China Town! I love China Town for the bright colors, the browsing, the peole watching, the food and the art. A nice walk around and then maybe have a friend join me for dinner.
10) Volunteer - now that I did my orientation, I can pick up a shift at the children's hospital or I can go down to the women's shelter which always welcomes me with open arms
11) Pool crash - every now and then, this must be done. You dress very nicely and go to a fancy hotel of your choice. How can they tell you don't belong there? One Miller Lite later, I'm swimming with unsuspecting guests.
12) I want to be on a boat or a jet ski or both but this doesn't fit even in the realm of my pocket book but I will scour away until I figure this one out!

Okay, I know I have many, many more. So I will add a part two to this list. If anyone can suggest fun things to do in any city for under $10 bucks, leave it in the comments section and INSPIRE us all :)

Adventure Bowl 2008

Does This Bathing Suit Make My Stretch Marks Look Sexy?

You guys write the most awesome comments ever. They are so supportive, rockin’ and insightful. There was one in the section of the entry “Eatin’ Pants” that I wanted to comment on right away.

But it all became so giganta-loric, that I thought I’d make it it’s own entry. Here’s part of that comment from Anonymous: “…but I have to mention one thing that's never been brought up on this blog. I know it's not a weight-loss blog, but we talk about it. After I reach my goal weight, I will still have these damn stretch marks from the weight gain in the first place. So knowing after all this work to better myself, I'm still going to have these horrible, embarrassing flaws leaves me so depressed. Okay, there, I said it :( Sorry to be depressing.”

First of all awesome reader, you are allowed to say anything you want to say here and I promise you, if you read some of these entries here, you can be sure, I can OUT-DEPRESS you. So never feel self-conscious about that.

So let’s talk about STRETCH MARKS. First of all, women that give birth to babies have them. It’s a beautiful reminder of what love created and that their body housed a frickin’ miracle. Men get stretch marks on their arms when they gain muscle after pumping iron. I see it in the gym all the time. So why do we, as, woman, wearing our own history of bummed-outed-ness or depression weight have to feel so guilty about ours?

When I was at my ideal weight, I had stretch marks. I was in the cutest cherry blossom tankini you ever saw at a work retreat but I was still the girl that wanted to get out of the hot tub last because I still thought my butt looked big. (I would now kill for that butt… I would kill for that butt plus 20 pounds more!!!)

Now, I can’t wait to be that weight again and THE ONE THING I WILL NEVER DO, is be self conscious in a bathing suit again. WHY? Because like a woman who puts on weight for her baby, I put on weight for my own life sustaining reason. I was depressed. I was in the black hole. I lost my cousin, my family was shattered, I lost a job, my boyfriend and my Mom… well, you all know about my Mom.

This weight was hard won to put on and it will be hard won to get off. But when I do, I’ll feel sooooo UNBELIVEABLY proud of myself when I get there that I will not care about stretch marks, whether they are white or red or black & blue.

Now I know some people are not gonna be on board about my “Rah, rah, love your stretch marks!” So for you, I say this, I didn’t always feel this way either. One thing I forgot to mention about that retreat was the HUGE bottle of Neutrogena spray tan I applied before I went to it. And it worked! Stretch marks be gone!

You need the help of a friend, I learned the hard way. I was so desperate to have the perfect J. Lo glow that I applied Spray Tan to my wall and shimmied my naked back up and down to get the good stuff on me because I couldn’t reach there myself!

The image of that makes me laugh and kind of gasp at the same time. But I didn’t know then what I know now... that I need to love myself all the time – Pale and Stretch-Marky or Super Tan with a Stretch Mark Secret.

Does This Bathing Suit Make My Stretch Marks Look Sexy?