Yesterday, I was cooking, and playing a cd I made of old tunes. By old, I mean my mother’s high school years. That’s about how old I get with music interest. Elvis, Peggy Lee, Otis Redding, Smokey Robinson, Patsy Cline…who’s with me? And my all_time favorite song came on. I truly believe that my cooking is better when I get a chance to shake my booty while stirring. In the event I have to whisk something….it’s high risk adventure cooking. I’m cooking with love and fury all at once.
So, I’m cooking and I’m dancing, and that’s when the regret hits me. This song is the exact explanation of the man I wanted to marry, the marriage I have, and the marriage I hope to have for a very long time. Just like the song, it’s got longevity, it’s fun, it’s got soul and I don’t care if it’s not in my age group, it is perfect. This song SHOULD have been our wedding song, our first dance. We considered it, but we just weren’t quite sure how we’d dance to it. And this was the only dance I was getting out of Ricardo that day.
With all that doubt, we went with At Last, by Etta James. It’s a good song. Sentimental. Very descriptive of the road Ricardo and I took to get to the alter. However, too slow. Too Sappy. In hindsight, we should have gone with our gut, it wouldn’t have been a slow song, but a fun song. We could have danced to it just fine. As a matter of fact, when Ricardo gets home….we’re going to dance to it:
Shamma Lamma Ding Dong by Lloyd Williams is my all time world favorite song.
So, I’m officially, blogficially, changing our wedding song, Ricardo & Leslie’s song to Shamma Lamma Ding Dong.
You’ve heard this song before. Yes you have. Yes you HAVE. YES YOU HAVE! Work with me here. The first time I heard this song was when I watched Animal House (Otis Day and the Knights, or “Otis, my man!” in the film). I watched Animal House with my Dad, a lot. It’s a very sentimental film to me, and makes me feel closer to my dad, and know what my dad was like in college. The man would tear up because he could relate so well to those guys. So, he would have LOVED it if we’d danced to that song at our wedding. Dangit!
The second time I heard this song was at my sixteenth birthday party. My pal, Mols, and some other pals all got together and threw me a huge surprise party. A little band we were all pals with from youth group (yes, they let me in the ole church youth group) came and serenaded me with a little, you guessed it, Shamma Lamma Ding Dong.
But nothing sums it all up for me and my Ricardo, like when I hear it from the Animal House Soundtrack, they have the sound byte when they pull up to the bar and walk in and Boon says, “Wait ’til Otis sees us! He Loved Us!” For some reason, it just speaks to the heart for me. To know us is to love us. I hope!
I hereby declare our wedding song Shamma Lamma Ding Dong.
That’s how I roll.
Some of y’all are so sweet and supportive. Thank you. There were lots of inquiries as to how the Kansas City trip went. So, I’ll tell ya.
I had a LOT of fun harassing the guys in my minivan. Those poor guys. I think to them, it was worth the 3 hour drive locked in the car with me because I’d made chocolate covered pretzels. And mamma doesn’t mess around…it was dark chocolate. DELICIOUS. These starving comedians were forced to ride with me, listening to my 80s Jams collection while hearing story after story about my cute kids. I think they numbed the pain and drowned me out with the crunch of the pretzels.
Oh, you wanted to hear how the actual competition went. Heh heh. It went fine. I’m still quite the amateur, so I didn’t win. However, one of my chocolate covered pretzel fed buddies did, and so well deserved. He’s a funny guy, that Richard Reese. But I’m sure it was my pretzel recipe that gave him the extra funny. I’m just sure of it.
There was an interesting haze in the air from the moment we got there, to how we were treated. There were 8 of us and we all had good performances that night. There was definitely some home_cookin. I’m usually a fan of home_cookin, when I’m the home team. But this time, there was a distinct pooh_like aroma of “Don’t come on our turf” type of gig. Back in the glory days, I would have meerly cast a look and settled the score. Put up or shut up you mo_rons. But in today’s time…I’m in my 30′s, have kids, happy and not really competitive unless I need to pit my children against another’s cuteness, skills, or smarts. Other than that, I see the puffy chest and stupid caddiness of it all and simply laugh it away. Which is good, because I’m a comedian…at a comedy club.
None the less, the experience was priceless.
Somedays I go up and bomb at open mics. And all I can think is, “That was REALLY funny on paper.” Most nights of this comedy gig are late ones. And if you know me, you know I’ve never EVER been a late night kind of girl. I need all the beauty sleep I can get. Can I get an Amen!? So, usually what happens is, I stay up, I bomb on stage (sometimes), I go home, I’m wired, can’t get to sleep and then I wake up the next morning exhausted and defeated. It’s similar to a hangover when you’re trying to remember who you smooched, or….otherwise….the night before. And all I can ask myself is “What the hell am I doing this for? Maybe I should just stick to writing the funny on my fabulous blog.”
Ultimately, my priority is my kids and my Ricardo. And as long as nothing is sacrificed on their beautiful behalf, then I’ll keep doing this comedy gig. I’m still working out my purpose for it. Most of the comedians I roll with are dedicated, committed, funny, and want it for a career. I think they get a bit frustrated with my laissez_faire take on the whole comedy gig. “Mamma can’t make it to the club tonight…I just found a kick ass recipe for porkchops,” or “Mamma can’t make it to the club tonight because I’m tired” or “someone is sick” etc. But they are supportive, still.
It takes a lot of practice. But I simply think I have a message to share, I have a knack (in progress) and I have a great support system with my family, my friends as well as my local comedy buddies. So, thank you. And I really do love to hear your comments (about me…not you) and email me anytime to tell me how great I am…or not. Whatever. There’s a “contact me” link on this home page. Send me a note.
That’s how I roll!
I do not even know where to begin. Sigh.
Well, I know that some people from my childhood read this blog. And so, I think we can all agree that back before kids, I was a bit, uh, flighty. Then college, education, volleyball, keggers, I was better, but still slightly absent_minded at times. The term “Dorky” comes to mind.
Then I got pregnant…with twins. And the hormones TRIPLED (That’s me+baby a+baby b, people). And that’s when all short_term memory escaped me. I was Dory from Nemo.
“Hey, look something shiny!”
“Oh really! WHERE!”
I pushed those babies out, and just like I’d expected the weight to be off and left in the delivery room, I expected my memory to come back to a solid “flighty” again. M’ais non. Still, to this day, my short term memory is shot. There’s witnesses. For example, when I quit my job, no one fought for me to stay, is all I’m sayin.
I think this week explains it all:
Monday: I call Ricardo to tell him that I need to meet him at his office straight up at five because I need to get to class early so I can make copies. At 3:30, I pick the kids up from school and Julz (Holla!) calls to see if we want to meet at the park because it’s such a beautiful day. (“Look something shiny” ….”WHERE!?”)
At the park, I call Ricardo and say, “So, what do you want me to make you for dinner tonight?”
He’s confused and says, “Don’t you have class tonight?”
I think for a moment, “Oh yeah. I guess I do.” And since I’m at the park, I resolve to just make copies on a class break or something.
I got off the phone and Julz(Holla!) says, “You forgot you have class in 2 hours?”
“Yep, I did. I do it all the time. I’m sure I’ll have full blown Alzheimer’s by age 50.” I say.
Julz(holla!) promises she’ll be by my side, Alzheimer’s and all.
Tuesday: We’re getting new carpet I have a meeting at noon. That’s all. After an email that the meeting should be at 11, I’m good with that, and explain to Ricardo that I’ll see him at home at lunch time. I’m off to meet at the Panera at 72nd & Dodge. One problem…there IS no Panera at 72nd and Dodge. So, I call Ricardo to mapquest me in. He talks me in to 78th & Dodge, and I see as I’m pulling in that Children’s Hospital is very close and I have a co_worker, who’s precious daughter is in the hospital. I figure I can grab some Panera yum’s and coffee and take it up to them. (Hey, I’m absent_minded, but some what thoughtful, right?). So, then my phone rings (God bless my kick ass Krazor phone) and it’s my lunch date, she’s late, can she still make it? Ofcourse, and at 11:45, we eat, we meet. All is right. The lovely woman keeps apologizing. Clearly she has no idea who she’s dealing with…I could barely FIND the place. No worries, girl! I grab the yummies and coffee and head to Children’s Hospital. Thinking, I have plenty of time to get this to them, and get to my annual appointment. I’m visiting with the family, when my phone rings. It’s Ricardo making sure I’m okay, because I never made it home for lunch, where he’d been waiting! “I’m sorry” just didn’t seem like enough. Nor did, “Woopsie, I did it again! FORGOT!”
Mind you, I had my annual coming up, and really, that’s enough to think about…prepare for, right ladies?
Carpet guys are here, and I’m rushing to get the kids ready for school while making sure Farley the Wonder Dog doesn’t eat the carpet guys. Laundry has now lingered into a pile on my couch, and I’m trying like hell to get it done. So, I throw a load in the wash while down in the laundry room. I hear a thump in the washer when I drop the clothes in and think it might be a shoe. It happens. So, I feel around. No Shoe. And I run the laundry. Fast forward to about lunch time, Ricardo and I go to Sam’s Club because he needs tires, but refuses to get a card, so I have to take him…so who’s bitter now? Anyways, we’re at Sam’s Club, and I go to look for my phone. “Where’s my phone?” And that’s when the thump in the fucking washing machine all comes back to me. SHIT. We get home, Ricardo is in happyland because he just ordered tires. Glad HE’S happy. I go down to the laundry, and there’s my phone, in the washer, I WASHED MY PHONE!
I WASHED MY PHONE!
Dammit. I get online with MyDaph, and she gives me a little tip that worked for her son’s GameBoy. Check it out: Remove the battery, and put all the parts of the phone/gameboy/whatever in a baggie full of rice, and let it sit for 24 hours. The rice should absorb all the moisture. It didn’t work for me, but I’m sure it’s a good tip when your electronic hasn’t been through a rinse and spin cycle. Whatever.
Wednesday night, we take the kids out to eat because we’ve had new carpet installed, our table is covered with stuff from the rooms we had to move for the carpet. The couch is outside, blocking the table outside, we will not be eating on the new carpet, so we go out to eat. Lucy spikes a fever on the way there, but we go in anyways. Our food gets served and that’s when Lucy announces, “I need to throw up.” I grab her and we run to the potty. I’ve trained this girl to barf in a toilet or a bucket. She makes it to the restroom, tries to barf, to no avail. And says she’s done. I’m glad no one came in. It looked like I had my 5 year_old in bulimic training camp, really. I carry her back to the table, and she’s burning up. So I tell Ricardo to get it to go, we’ll meet them in the car, and that’s what we do. We get home, and the kids still want to eat, so do I, but we have nowhere to sit. So, we tailgate it IN OUR OWN DRIVE WAY and dine in the back of my beloved minivan while watching my neighbor mow her lawn. Lucy begs me to take her to go lay down and go to bed, so I do, asking Ricardo to finish up the tailgating party with Max.
We read to the kids, get them in bed, and start moving furniture out of our Sanford&Son back yard, and back into the house.
By Wednesday night, I just have to look back at the whole week and laugh. It can’t get any crazy, right? NEVER ASK. You’ll get an answer, folks. And the answer usually is sent by God from a huge telegram that says, “WHY YES LESLIE, IT CAN. LET ME SHOW YOU JUST HOW CRAZY IT CAN GET.” In all caps, because GOD shouted it at me, trust me.
THURSDAY _ No carpet guys, the furniture is back in place for the most part. We now have a table to eat on. So, all is well. I pat myself on the back when I remember that the kids need a sack lunch for their field trip today, and actually make their lunches AND get them in their backpacks. Good job, Me. Both kids are showered, dressed, teeth brushed, hair dried, lunches packed. All is right with the world. It’s time to get the kids in the car to go to school. Where are my keys? Where the shit are my keys? I walk outside, wipe the frost off the window, and lo…there are my keys on top of my purse locked in the car. I hear God chuckling…loudly. I go in, announce we get to walk to schol today! YAY! Whatever.
I get them to school. Walk back. Poor coffee. Sit down, and here we are. I figure with no phone and no car, my odds of being distracted have decreased immensely. And I know that tomorrow, something will come up. Maybe I’ll call my doctor and ask about ADHD drugs. But for now, it’s still kind of fun. If I had things like CLARITY and MEMORY, I wouldn’t have much to blog about, or laugh at in hindsight.
That’s how I roll.
It’s time to practice voting. Well, for real. I want you to vote for real this time. Not the part where you exercise your right to take off time for work and then hit the bar instead for an hour. Not like that….fo real! It’s for something much more important!
Okay, I’m using my media to exploit local comedy This guy is good! And as mentioned in his act, he’s a starving father of two. So help this very funny guy feed his babies. If you don’t vote for him, his wife and kids will end up on the streets.
This guy is good. I admire his timing, and it is a craft to shut up and give time to laughter. He’s smart and brilliant. So, please click here, and vote for NICK ALLEN. You might have to register, as it is a 17 and over website. But please, it only takes a minute. “>VOTE FOR NICK! And then go tell all your friends about it. PLEASE!
That’s how I roll.