Monday, August 27, 2012

A Right Brainer's Guide to Organization

I am 100% right brained. I love bright colors. I hate keeping track of details. In coffee shops I like to sit facing the door so I can see people come and go. 

When I have to do math my vision gets fuzzy and my blood pressure rises. I get distracted easily. I'm usually reading 7 books at a time. I will probably finish none of them. I work better with noise in the background. One minute I'm e-mailing a music client and the next I'm googling how to raise a peahen.

My brain is a pretty fun place, but sometimes it's frustratingly disorganized.

If I saw a doctor I'd probably be diagnosed with some sort of adult ADD. I think that God gave me a very eclectic, creative brain, but the downside is that it's always going, and rarely stays focused on one thing. Rather than medicate I've decided to recognize the pitfalls and instill some discipline.

Here are a few things I do to maintain some semblance of organization and sanity. Some may be obvious, but hopefully they can help my fellow right-brainers.

1. Keep a small notebook and pen handy at all times. Jot down things as you think of them, because despite how important or great an idea it is, you won't remember it later. As a bonus, it makes you feel like Steve from Blues Clues.

2. Have a morning routine, even if it's just one or two steps. I try to make my bed and drink some water. (Cause making the bed can be the Internet told me drinking a glass of water in the morning helps my internal organs function optimally.) 

3. Make to-do lists. Before I go to bed I "draft" my next day. I'll put a "morning," "afternoon" and "evening" block and write generally what needs to get done in those times. If I have cookies on hand, I'll eat one. 

4. Keep up with general good health habits. Exercise, take vitamins, limit coffee, sugar, etc. I do terrible with this 50% of the time, but when I stay on top of basic health habits, I focus better.

5. Create an organization system that works for you so you don't end up on hoarders. I don't know how to I keep designated "piles" for things: comedy material pile, important document pile, music pile, etc. I don't have a filing cabinet, color coded or alphabetized system. If someone starts an organization system for me, I can keep it up, but I'm lousy at coming up with them. (hint, hint)  

6. Write down everything important in one place. I keep a paper calendar (not an electronic one) with writing deadlines, appointments, and comedy show info w/ all flight/hotel information written on it. Otherwise I will lose everything. 

7. When all six of the cup holders in your car have old drinks in them, clean it out. 

8. Accept that your life will always be a little cluttered. It's a small sacrifice for the fun and spontaneity that saturates a right-brainer's life.  

Are you a right brainer? How do you keep organized?

Monday, June 4, 2012

There's a Man in my Pants!

A few months ago I received the most amazing advice on how to get a husband. After one of my shows a middle age lady came up to me and posed the following question:

"I know you joke about being single in your act, but is getting married something you want?"

"Sure, when I meet the right guy," I responded.

"No," she said firmly. "If you're serious about wanting to get a husband, here's what you need to do. You need to get a pair of men's pants and hang them on the end of your bed. Then you pray to God every night to fill those pants with the perfect man." 

I almost started laughing, but there was no hint of joking in her voice.

Oh my, I realized. She's serious! And she wasn't finished.

"But you're tall," she added thoughtfully. "So you want to hang a big pair of pants so you get a tall man."

"My dad is tall," I interjected. "Can I just use a pair of his pants?"

"Oh no, sweetie. That's a little weird," she said, looking mortified.

Good! I was wondering where the bar for "weird" was. It definitely had been raised in this conversation. And she still wasn't finished.

"Go to Goodwill and pick up a pair of pants there," she finished.

"I don't want a used man!" I thought to myself. My thoughts were interrupted, though, as she continued talking.

"That's what I did when I was ready to get married. I hung those pants up, prayed, and then I joined Christian Mingle and found my husband!"

There were so many crazy wise cracks going through my head. I got the sense this wasn't the kind of person who would take teasing. (It's much less rude, and requires less of a spine, to blog about it later.) Instead I smiled and said, "thank you for the advice."

"Please let me know how it goes!" she said.

"I will be sure to let you know when I have a man in my pants," I said. Oops. It didn't sound like that in my head.

Later I relayed the whole thing to my friend who was with me. We decided I shouldn't rush into hanging just any pair of pants. Based on this logic, the kind of pants I hang will be indicative of the man who fills them.

Did I want to hang scrubs and get a doctor? Designer pants and get a lawyer or businessman? If I hung up an Ironman suit would I get Robert Downey Jr.?

I still haven't decided. I think I'll just keep praying that God will provide me with the right guy at the right time. And with the right pants.

I haven't hung the pants, but that conversation did get me thinking about starting a new dating website. I will call it I am too scared to google it to see if it's taken.

What crazy advice have you received for finding a spouse? And, did it work?

Thursday, May 31, 2012

20 Tips for Teen Girls

1. If someone gossips TO you, they will gossip ABOUT you.

2. Treat your parents with respect, even if you don't think they deserve it.

3. Be fierce about staying pure. (Take being called a "prude" as a compliment.)

4. Find your security, identity and confidence in Christ, not people.

5. Dress fashionably, but modestly. You want to be remembered for your personality (which is unique) not your cleavage (which looks exactly like everyone else's).

6. Malls are overrated. Go for a hike, see a play, make a cheesy youtube skit, do something besides "hanging" for hours around an indoor fountain that has water dyed blue to make it look more like water.

7. Find a mentor. Ask someone you respect and who has a strong walk with the Lord to mentor you if no one falls into that place naturally.

8. Learn to accept correction that is given in love.

9. Let baseless criticism roll off your back.

10. Avoid drama.

11. Forgive. Grudges don't burn any extra calories.

12. Take care of yourself by adopting good health habits now.

13. You don't need 750 self portraits of yourself on Facebook.

14. Hang around with people outside your peer group. You can learn a lot from adults, and younger kids can learn a lot from you.

15. Help keep creepy people away from you by disabling all location information in your social media.

16. Be trustworthy. Don't give your word lightly, and keep your word when you give it.

17. Read good books. No, Twilight doesn't count. (Hunger Games does.)

18. Be "others centered." Go volunteer at a nursing home. Help fold bulletins at your church. Offer to help out with a production at your local theater.

19. Be kind with your words.

20. Seek after the Lord with all your heart, mind, and soul. Learn about who God is. Ask the tough questions, then find the answers.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Dogs are Boys and Cats are Girls (and other things I believed as a child)

I love talking with children about their views on the world. They are creative, funny, imaginative, and often surprisingly observant and honest in how they think the world works. Recently I was reflecting with a few of my siblings on things we believed as children. Here's what I could remember.

Things I believed as a child:

All dogs are boys and all cats are girls.

God lived in the DFW Air Traffic Control Tower. (My dad was a pilot and we flew a lot.)

Our prayers went to a series of answering machines in the DFW Air Traffic Control Tower, and when God had enough time He listened to them and answered them.

If I wore clip on earrings long enough, my ears would become pierced.

All tacos were eaten with coleslaw.

If a mom and a dad went somewhere together, the dad always did the driving. (Even now when I play the board game Life, I switch my little people so that the blue person is driving when I reach the "married" square.)

When a plane landed all the bags fell from the bottom of the plane. Elves came and collected them and put them on the baggage belt, which is why it took so long.

Everyone got married by age 23.

Girls had long hair. Cutting your hair made you a boy.

If a married couple wanted a baby, they only had to pray together and then went to go pick up the baby at the hospital. (Some families in our social circle obviously prayed more than others.)

Public school was a terrible place where children were sent by parents who didn't care about them.

Since girls always looked surprised when they were proposed to, I believed that you didn't have to know the man ahead of time and that any random dude could "surprise" you by proposing. (Which was actually semi true as I got proposed to by a gas station attendant one time.)

What did you believe as a child?

Friday, May 11, 2012

How I Nearly Ruined a Showbiz Pizza Commercial as a Kid

What you are about to read is a true story. It is recounted as I remember it.

I got my first job at the age of four.

While walking through the airport with my dad, my older sister Lori was scouted by an agent at a top Dallas modeling agency. They really liked my older sister’s look, and since I kind of looked like her, they kind of liked me and signed us both. She was six and I was four.

I thought modeling would be a good way to start a college fund and get ahead on my 401k, while maybe indulging in a few wants such as a new Cabbage Patch Doll and some Fisher Price roller skates.

Okay, for real. I had no clue I was even working.

There are four things I remember about being a child model:

1. The clothes were itchy.

2. The grown ups didn’t smile much.

3. If I didn’t strip off the itchy clothes during the shoot I got a McDonald’s Happy Meal.

4. I usually threw up the Happy Meal a few hours later because my parents were health fiends and rarely let us have anything processed, so my body revolted when fed contraband foods.

The highlight of my career came at five years old, when I got to be an extra in a Showbiz Pizza commercial. For those of you who don’t remember, Showbiz Pizza was the predecessor to Chuck E. Cheese. We never went there because my parents didn’t want to spend money on tokens or pizza made with white flour.

The talent in the commercial was comprised of a principal little boy, thirty child extras, and one actor inside a gigantic mouse suit that later morphed into Chuck E. Cheese. Back then it was just a creepy, pedophilia-looking mouse (see above picture).

The parents waited in a separate area while their children filmed. I would not want to be in a room with thirty stage mothers each trying to one-up the other mothers with their child’s accomplishments.

One of the production assistants divided up the kids to be filmed doing different things around the restaurant. Some kids went to the ball pit, some went to the gophers that try and thwart your hammer with their random head popping, and some went to a table to work with a pizza.

(Due to union laws the pizza couldn’t be on set for any more than 30 minutes before it had to get switched out with a fresher pizza. And we thought actors had a hard time staying fresh. Every time an actor tells me they’re having trouble keeping their image new and interesting, I remind them to be thankful they’re not a pizza. Incidentally I’m not friends with many actors.)

Lori, who was also an extra, was assigned to the gopher heads. I was put with the pizza group and led away with 5 other kids by Production Assistant #1, who was no doubt a recent film studies graduate. PA #1 took her job more seriously than most cardiac surgeons take open-heart surgery. If everyone were as dedicated to his or her job as PA #1, world peace would be only a matter of time.

I don’t want to make light of her dedication. This commercial was the stepping-stone by which she would move to episodic television, transition into film, and then receive her Oscar by thirty for best cinematography. A lot was riding on the shoulders of this twenty-second commercial spot. She could not fail. Which meant the six children she was responsible for could not fail.

PA #1 took me and five other kids to a dining table. On that table sat a huge, scrumptious sausage pizza. I stared at that pizza. I wanted it. It was hypnotizing me with its gooey cheese, greasy sausage, and over refined crust. I’d do anything for a slice.

My parents made pizza from scratch using wheat that my dad bought from a wheat dealer. (Yes, there is such a thing. Wheat deals go down very similar to drug deals.) They ground these wheat kernels into flour in their grinder. They had an all-organic tomato paste and something dairy free for cheese. It tasted nothing like this pizza looked.

I was so deep into my analysis of the pizza that I didn’t pay attention to what PA #1 instructed. Before I knew what was happening she said, “as soon as you hear ‘action’ grab your piece of pizza.”

This was working exactly as I’d hoped.

I got into attack position, eyed the piece of pizza I wanted, and waited for ‘action.’


That was my cue. I grabbed my piece of pizza and began eating it as fast as I could.


PA #1 approached me. She didn’t look happy.

“What are you doing?” she asked me. “You were supposed to grab a slice of pizza and hold it up!”

I somehow missed that part of the instructions. Before I could respond, she’d already walked away.

PA #1 was furiously talking to the props man, telling them that I’d ruined the take by eating the pizza. The props guy nodded and went somewhere.

PA #1 talked to someone else quickly, and then told me they were moving me. A tall man in a headset came over and escorted me to another little group of kids setting up for another shot. These kids were going to skip in a circle around the Pedophilic Mouse mascot.

All I had to do was follow the kid in front of me and look happy. The director yelled “ACTION” and we all started skipping.

Everything was going smoothly. I was on my second lap around the mouse when, for reasons I still can’t explain, I decided to grab his tail. And for equally inexplicable reasons, I decided not to let go.

Here’s a fun fact: the tails of mouse mascots aren’t sewn on very well. I was only half way around the mouse, tail still in hand, when I heard a “riiiiip,” and suddenly I wasn’t pulling the tail anymore. I was carrying it in my hand.


Pedophilic Mouse turned to look at the hole in his* suit. A pair of white Hanes underwear was visible through the tear I’d made. The kids started pointing and laughing as the actor inside the mouse tried to cover the hole clumsily with his fur clad hands. I hung my head in shame. I’d never meant to hurt the mouse. I’d just grabbed his tail for no reason. I felt a tickle in my eyes and blinked back tears. I also felt something rumble in my tummy. The kind of rumble that makes you have to run to a bathroom.

The costume person retrieved the tail from my hand and walked with the mouse to another room. Production was temporarily halted.

Another assistant walked over to me and said I could come sit with her while things got reset. I think they didn’t want to leave me unsupervised. I told this girl I wasn’t feeling good, and that I might be sick. She promptly took me back to where the parents were being kept.

Here’s how you know I’m not lying about this story. If I were making up the story I would have had me throwing up on PA #1 or in the ball pit or on the lead little boy, who received noticeably better treatment than the other kids.

But I did not get sick. I merely went to sit with my mother, another stage mother gave me two Spearmint tic tacs, and I laid my head in my mom’s lap until they finished shooting and Lori was released. Lori came out with hundreds of tickets they’d let her keep when she played the gopher game. Fortunately she hadn’t seen my mess ups, and the shame I’d brought on myself remained my secret. Until now.

In the final cut of the commercial, there is a ¼ second blurb where you can see the seat of the pale blue overalls my mom dressed me in for the day. For years my mom freeze-framed the commercial to that ¼ second every time someone entered our house.

I'd share the footage with you, but sadly that VHS accidentally got dropped off our balcony and then smashed with a hammer when I was a teenager.

My modeling career didn’t last much longer. When I was almost six several of my teeth fell out, and my adult teeth came in at such odd angles that no one wanted me representing their product, so the agency dropped me.

Exhibit A:

This instilled in me a deep sense of self-hatred, which was vitally important when I started doing stand up comedy.

The moral of this story is simple: If you are going to be health nuts don’t put your child in show business or some delicious looking prop food might distract them from listening to important instructions and wreak havoc on the entire commercial and instill a feeling of guilt and shame in your child that forces them into the world of comedy later in life.

When I was sixteen all my suffering paid off when I had a few thousand dollars in the bank to put toward a car. Sadly, that is my only fond memory of my first job.

If you made it to the end of this blog you deserve a piece of delicious pizza.

*Or her. I never did see its face. I consider that a good thing, because if a mascot lets you see their human face, it means they’re going to kill you.


Saturday, January 7, 2012

Top Three Cupcake Picks 2011

A couple years ago cupcakes started trending. If my cupcake history is correct, the Beverly Hills Sprinkles launched these little delicacies into the spotlight, and the fire gradually spread. Cupcakeries (if it's not already a word, it should be) began popping up all over the place.

It is my firm belief that cupcakes promote happiness.** Have you ever seen a cupcake and frowned?

As the trend spiraled nation-wide, I had an overwhelming urge to find the world's most perfect cupcake. This quest would require dedication, commitment, and the consumption of a lot of cupcakes. But it was a sacrifice I was willing to make for the betterment of mankind. After all, can you imagine the power you'll hold if you possess the knowledge of where to find the most perfect cupcake? I shudder at the thought of this knowledge falling into the wrong hands.

I began sampling cupcakes at a rate of one a week. When I was on the road with comedy I'd keep my eyes open for bakeries to try. Over the course of 2011 I established my top three picks for cupcake places in the U.S. Two are in California, one in Texas. This year I will continue my quest to find the perfect cupcake...if such a thing exists.

Last thing: I am among those with an innate disgust of the word "moist." But there is truly no other word that adequately describes a bakery product with the appropriate amount of moisture. My synonym search yielded alternatives like "oozy" and "damp." Certainly not an adjective I want describing something I'm eating, unless it's frosting oozing out of the cupcake. Even then...kinda ew.

And finally: My Top Three Cupcake Picks for 2011:

1. Sift in Napa, CA
This place won Cupcake Wars, and for good reason. I tried the Sky is Falling and Snickerdoodle cupcakes, which were hands down the best cupcakes I've ever tried. They were moist, with the appropriate cake-to-frosting ratio. The flavors just strong enough without being overwhelming.

2. NV Cupcakes in Corinth, TX
Usually bigger cities boast winning treats, but this unassuming little shop nestled next to an Alberton's boasts some pretty spectacular treats. The thing I value about these is the consistency. These are near my family in Texas and I often get them as gifts. They are never dry, never too sweet, and slightly smaller (also priced lower than the average cupcake) so you don't go into a sugar coma after eating one. My personal favorites are the New York Cheescake (available on Fridays) and the York Peppermint (rolled out on Wednesdays). Bonus, it's family owned.

3. Famous Cupcakes in Valley Village, CA
This cupcakery was in a neighborhood where I used to teach. The cupcakes are moist, and the frosting brilliant. Start off with a half, though, as they are quite sweet. I recommend the Black Tie or Vanilla. The biggest con is trying to find parking in the tiny shopping center where this is located.

Honorable Mention: WalMart cupcakes. You wouldn't think the place known for cheapness would crank out a decent pastry. Perhaps it was because my expectations were so low I had no choice but to be pleasantly surprised.

*When eaten in moderation. Eaten in large quantities they promote type 2 diabetes. This PSA brought to you by Paula Dean.**

**PSA not actually brought to you by Paula Dean.