Curly Comedy

No Ordinary Store

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 14:19:00 +0000

It's nice to know in these tough economic times that certain boutiques are still able to thrive. Take this gift shop in my neighborhood...

When choosing the name "Phoenix Gift Shop", the owners were not deterred by the fact that the store is not located in Phoenix, AZ nor does the sign feature a picture of a bird by the same name. They do not specialize in River Phoenix memorabilia. They just like the sound of it.

They also like the idea of providing a gift shop in an area where there are no tourists, and no nearby museums. They are reaching a certain niche market with the "gifts" they offer. They sell bags, and they sell school supplies. Actually, they sell school supply, so presumably one type...rulers maybe? Probably not backpacks because they already specify that they have bags. For the bald, they sell the gift of human hair, and for the kids in need of more than school supply, they sell toys.

But could a store that sells such random items REALLY be on the up and up? Or am I correct in my theory that it is an alien headquarters from which they can observe us, notating our patterns so that they may finally overtake us, one unsuspecting Saturday morning?!

Only alien kids like human hair toys.

The Labyrinth

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 13:13:00 +0000

Gather 'round children, and I'll tell you a tale. The tale of the subway station called Fulton Street, where people go in, but no one ever goes out. Particularly if you have entered through the opening on Broadway, and you are seeking to take the M train downtown into Brooklyn.

Behold! When you are upstairs, there is no sign for the Brooklyn-bound M train; only directions for getting to the M that goes in the opposite direction! But get to the train you must, so you descend. Only to find that the same directions exist below as exist above, directing you to take the same staircase over and over again until you lose your mind.

Finally when you buy a churro, wipe the cinnamon and sugar from your mouth three times, and say, "You have no power over me!" the tiled walls move, and the correct passage way is revealed to you.

I have spent 20 minutes in this station on two separate occasions searching for the same track.

Old Spice

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 15:16:00 +0000

There are two things you can count on in a New York City bodega.

1) The hamburger buns smell like kitty litter (Luke Cunningham has a hilarious bit on this)

2) Old products never die.

Apparently no one is ashamed when non-perishables from the 1970s creep their way to the front of the shelf. This Durkee garlic salt sticks out like a sore thumb. The brown label says, "My Cutlass gets 10 miles to the gallon, Jack!" and the red and yellow dots prove the color orange has not been invented yet. Applying this garlic salt might just put shag on your chest.

But let's not spare the other options:
Accent! (with a misplaced accent) says "Great on Lowfat foods" - implying that lowfat foods taste awful, so please keep making your refried beans with lard. They have also personified Food Flavor, which is an interesting marketing choice. Maybe they assume you are cooking with something that's still alive. "Wake up your food before you put its lights out for good!"

McCormick Italian Seasonings and Lemon and Herb Seasonings seem normal enough-- for Magnum, P.I. Someone want to update the artwork a little? Maybe think beyond Bob Ross illustrations since he's not around to make them anymore.

La Flor garlic. Saving you time by chopping it for you, and saving you the trouble of leaving it out for bugs to crawl in. Don't worry about that dark brown object getting out. It's sealed for your protection.

Communication is Key

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 14:53:00 +0000

To give you a little insight into how Luke and I are learning to converse as a married couple, I give you an excerpt of our text messages. I am coming from an evening of comedy in Manhattan, and he is finishing up a pick-up basketball game in Brooklyn.

I let him know that instead of taking a train home, I would take a different train to pick him up, and he let me know that he was finishing his last game. From a couple of stops away I asked him about where we could meet.

I hate waiting for the bus. In the dark. Near people who like to catcall. I start to get uncomfortable and therefore impatient. Over the course of five minutes I make an empty threat to leave, and then explore the Paste function on my phone.

I discover that I can embellish the paste "Where are you?" with additional thoughts. Finally I appease myself with the idea that he is dead.

I remember that guys speak as plainly as possible, and decide to scroll up to the last thing he said, the last bit of information he communicated: "Will wait for you." I realize he must be waiting in the gym, and decide to walk down the road to pick him up. The road, which by the way, looks like this.

I made it down the poorly lit passage way unscathed (by the way, the best way to mug me is to dress as a vampire) and opened the gymnasium door to see my sweaty husband smiling as if I just popped in. While I was waiting for the bus under a street light, he had been away from his phone, playing one more round of basketball long after he told me he had finished.

The Married Life

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 13:05:00 +0000

My latest post on HipSlopeMama.Blogspot.com is called "The Question", about preparing newlyweds for correctly responding with just how fantastic Married Life is.

At first I thought the question was one of curiosity, filled with interest about my feelings on betrothal and how I was adjusting to the transition. I finally figured out the answer that everyone wants to hear...

Click here to read the whole post. And don't forget to leave some feedback there!

Photo credit:
www.dannyiskandarphotography.com

Who Watches Shows on a Sunday Night?

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 17:37:00 +0000

I am the new host of Sunday Soiree show at Botanica Bar. The show, founded by Josh Filipowski of Like2Laugh Productions, has a reputation for being quite intimate. It's in the back of a gritty SoHo bar, in a room furnished with worn, comfy couches and yard sale lamp fixtures that give it a cozy glow. The brick walls are brushed with gold paint, and the stage takes up a quarter of the room, so everyone has a great view.

It's one of the best places to hear NYC's hardest-working comics crank out their freshest ideas. Jay Welch explored our need for multigrain sushi while Jeff Kreisler shared a preview to his "Cheat to Get Rich" seminar he's taking to the Edinbrough Festival. Mo Diggs let us know his strong opinions about mayonnaise, and Erica Keats pondered the irony of obese people that wear Nike gear. Although not on the lineup, Trafton Crandall popped in and got to make use of some stage time as well. He said working on a new screenplay is like being a Polar explorer. Catch his act to understand why!

After the show, I saw Neil Charles outside and joined him in his walk to Sunday Night Stand-up at Three of Cups.

RG Daniels had a full room and they were loving his material. Michael Terry did a great job explaining that the Japanese have their own stereotypes about us. I only caught the tail end, but host Charlie Kasov did a smashing job from what I saw.

There is amazing live comedy every night of the week, and Monday is no exception! I look forward to seeing you at the Root Hill mic tonight! Last one of the summer until we start back up in September.

Root Hill Cafe
262 4th Ave (@ Carroll St)
Park Slope, BK 11215
Sign-up at 7:00PM, show's at 8:00PM
FREE

I Can Hardly Imagine What's Next

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 19:03:00 +0000

Last night was a fun show at a bar I've never been to, The Local 269.

The host was a lovely, voluptuous woman covered in tatoos I affectionately called Kat Von D. She introduced people by first stating their name and then following with their credits. Anyone who has ever seen a gameshow knows the name is the signal to applaud. The audience was poised to clap, but kept missing their cue, so a lot of us came up to silence, which cracked me up.

The crowd was huddled in shoulder to shoulder from wall to wall, all in support of the producer Darcy Burke who also took her turn at the mic and had a great set.

Sometimes a good crowd gets a little too involved. As I took the stage, I began, "I'm biracial..." and a woman in the front said, "Are you blewish?" I had never heard this term before, but I could only assume she was asking whether I was black and Jewish...or a smurf. I answered honestly that I was not, although back in college I was often confused with a girl who was. Then came the obvious void of laughter that occurs when you exchange real, non-humorous information with someone, so I looked away from her and addressed the crowd as a whole, "and now time for some jokes. If there's any time left." Got 'em back.

How engaged was this crowd? When Robin Cloud was mid set-up someone laughed and sighed, "Oh my God, I can hardly imagine what's next!"

Sad you missed it? Robin and I are going to kick it again at Comix (Ochi's Lounge) tonight!

Triple Minority Report
Comix Comedy Club
353 W. 14th Street
New York, NY 10014
7:30PM, FREE

Photo credit:
assets3.likeme.net

That's Me in the Corner

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 13:21:00 +0000

Back in 2006 I used to do silly things. Like get wacky haircuts or take before and after pictures of it and e-mail them to a nice Canadian woman who is launching a hair product business in Canada.

Three years later I am a Cover Girl on the Blended Beauty Website.

Flash forward to today, where I'm still putting weird stuff on my hair, but at least now I get paid for it.

Thanks to Chris of Cynical-C.com and comedian Les Degan for spotting me!

Boardgame Flashback: Pizza Party

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 14:55:00 +0000

I used to go over to my neighbor Josh's house to play Pizza Party. It's funny how kids can find common ground right away and get along with each other. It's like the slogan for the Push Pop sucker: "Don't push me; push a Push Pop". Why resort to violence when we can all agree that sugar is delicious, amigo?

Josh went on to harrass my sister and I with prank calls in middle school and became a sullen high schooler who pretended not to know us. He ignored cheerful hellos on the sidewalk even though he lived two houses down.

But before he was a unibomber, Josh was a silly kid who would let me share his green plastic G.I. Joes., his mother's small, round exercise trampoline, and his book-on-record of Br'er Rabbit. Watch out for that tar baby!

Then he presented this wonder of wonders: a board game shaped like a pizza! With pieces that look like ingredients! I don't remember really liking the game, but I always requested to play it because of the novelty of holding a fake pizza in my hands. Almost as good as the real thing!

Clearly the pepperoni and the mushroom want to date. The green pepper has her sights on the onion, but he's not interested. I never understood why the onion pizza slice had a blue handle, when the other slice handles corresponded perfectly to their respective ingredients. Who ever heard of a blue onion? I imagined a big assembly line of workers taking turns putting the game together. I figured the boardmakers at the end of the line were confused, because the illustrators at the front of the line forgot what an onion looked like and drew a Hershey's Kiss instead.

Leave Me Alone

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 19:10:00 +0000

In a CBS interview with Ed Bradley, Michael Jackson said if anyone wants to know the real him they need only listen to a song he wrote. I was on the edge of my seat. Finally some answers! Straight from the horse's mouth! Would it be "Man in the Mirror"? Or the less popular but just as moving "Earth Song"? Imagine my disappointment when he named one of my least favorites he has ever written: "Childhood"

The music video alone lights him with the eery glow of an alien from Cocoon. But he said the answers are there. So dissect I must:

Michael you seem to be distracted. Are you looking for something?

Have you seen my Childhood?

I, uh, yes I'm familiar with your popularity in the Jackson 5. Oh, is this a metaphorical question?

I'm searching for the world that I come from

You're from Gary, Indiana. A factory town. Everyone knows that.

'Cause I've been looking around
In the lost and found of my heart...

Okay, now I get it. You're longing for the childhood you didn't have because you were a superstar by age 12. So the Lost and Found is a place to reclaim things, and you can't reclaim your childhood. And you're looking in your heart. So your heart has a void. Do I understand you correctly?

No one understands me

You got that right. The affected voice, the image altering, the excessive spending, the baby-dangling...

They view it as such strange eccentricities...

the masks, the chimp, the Martin Bashir interview...

'Cause I keep kidding around

Is that what serving wine to children is called?

Like a child,

I never did that as a kid.

but pardon me...

By all means. I'll help you look. Hey, are these Edward Scissorhands Gloves?

People say I'm not okay
'Cause I love such elementary things...

I don't think we begrudged you your amusement park, but just the fact that you said it was okay to share your bed with children.

It's been my fate to compensate
For the Childhood
I've never known...

Compensating with slumber parties? So overnights with your peers was out of the question?

Have you seen my Childhood?

It's gone Michael. You have kids of your own now.

I'm searching for that wonder in my youth

Aren't we all?

Like pirates in adventurous dreams,
Of conquest and kings on the throne...

Sure, I have wished I were a pirate or a king. I escape through Disney movies. Then I pay my taxes.

Before you judge me, try hard to love me

Really, the love came before the judgment. But how well can any stranger really love or judge someone they don't have a real relationship with?

Look within your heart then ask

I shouldn't. My heart is black with anger and greed and jealousy--

Have you seen my Childhood?

Oh right, we're talking about you. Can I ask why you married Lisa Marie Presley?

People say I'm strange that way
'Cause I love such elementary things,
It's been my fate to compensate
For the Childhood I've never known...

You said that already. Now I feel like you're not even listening to me. Your eyes have glossed over, and your lawyer is telling me to leave.

Have you seen my Childhood?

I'm getting the feeling it all traces back to your childhood.

I'm searching for that wonder in my youth
Like fantastical stories to share
But the dreams I would dare...watch me fly...

That's nice. But you know you can't REALLY fly, right? Hello? I think you may have Peter Pan syndrome. Which really is quite weird.

Before you judge me

Okay, you're right, that was a value judgment.

try hard to love me

I can try to love. I love...Thriller. I'm sorry, I'm a fan, that's all I know.

The painful youth I've had

Wow, I think I'm starting to get it. I can't help but think of your father Joe, who made you address him as Joe, and your mother who stayed by his side after he cheated on her. The physical abuse during your formative years, and the rumors of other forms of abuse. Really, I am only piecing together what I've seen in made-for-TV movies and talk shows. But you could start fresh with your kids. Give them the care, attention, and boundaries you never had. Is there any reason you could not communicate with them in a healthy way? Speak to US in a normal way?

Have you SEEN my Childhood?

Right.

Mourning-Wear

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 13:17:00 +0000

Everybody knows what today is. A security guard in the building where I work refused to smile as I walked in. Instead of saying "Good morning" in his Caribbean accent, he shook his head and said, "It's just sad."

Maybe he saw my black dress and assumed I was in mourning too. I got some birthday gear from my sister in the mail yesterday, and in a rush to get to work this morning, I threw on the simplest outfit from that package. It is raining heavily in New York today, and with my giant umbrella and the black dress, I look like I am on my way to a funeral.

Meanwhile back on Planet Corporate America, none of my co-workers are talking about the death of Michael Jackson. Whether you loved him or hated him, you knew OF him, so not to say anything when the rest of the world takes a pause is unusual. These are the same people that make news out of an updated Dirt Devil. One woman said, "I see you're wearing a black dress. How PERFECT for Friday!" Someone else wearing a similar outfit to mine said, "We both have excellent fashion taste, don't we?"

Grandpa Munster in Drag

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 20:39:00 +0000

I got to perform at Union Hall last night. The last time I was there was to watch Todd Barry's 20th Anniversary of Doing Stand-up show. It was cool to think that I was standing off stage behind the curtain where Sarah Silverman, Michael Showalter and David Cross had stood. Then it became awkward as none of the other comics waited back there with me. Finally I sat in the front row, but just for effect, I walked through the curtain and onto the stage. None of the other comics did that either.

It was all to raise funds for the campaign of a man I met that night, Bob Zuckerman.

He hopes to be the first openly LGBT councilman in Brooklyn. You may be thinking, "The first?! In all of Brooklyn's political history?" But the key word is OPENLY. Every other councilman happened to be gay, but just did not talk about it. I would plan to be the first hetero councilman, but that would require a transgender operation. Then I would be HT without the LGB, and that is not as cool.

The lineup was great. H.Alan Scott, Claudia Cogan, Lisa Kaplan, Shawn Hollenbach, Chris Sifflet and Ben Lerman.

I lost the mostly gray-haired crowd with my jokes about Dippin' Dots, but they stayed with me and even gave me an applause break at some point. I hitched a ride with H. Alan Scott onto SRSLY LOL at Metropolitan Bar later and got some nice compliments after that set.

Bob Zuckerman, although not a comedian, got the biggest laugh of the night when he commented that an old timey portrait on the wall behind him looked like Grandpa Munster in Drag. A councilman with transparency, a sense of humor and more importantly, an affinity for 60s pop culture? That's change we can believe in.

It's Not Comedy. It's Luke.

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 14:37:00 +0000

After three years of denouncing the virtues of blog writing, Luke has finally decided to post. So far I like his blog. Read it for a daily laugh on a current event, some hilarious headlines, and a fun video. Don't forget to leave a comment!

For more of our fantastic wedding photos, go to: dannyiskandarphotography.com/slide/abbilukewed

The Crowd That Could Not Love Me

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 16:39:00 +0000

I was so geared up to knock it out of the park Sunday night. Great club, great lineup, funny host who had sufficiently warmed everyone up. Then it was my turn. Many jokes were met with polite laughter, but too many others were met with blank stares. The crowd looked like a panel of Guess Who tiles.

"Is your person young?"
Yes..
"Is your person wearing a frown?"
Yes...

Once in between silences a man in the back muttered something, and the people at his table laughed. I said, "Oh, what was that Sir?" to which he responded by becoming a stone statue--like kids playing hide and seek who think if they don't move, you'll walk on by them. I tried to show him I wasn't annoyed, just curious. "All I see over there is a Hawaiian shirt and a nice smile". This was true. When someone sits in the back of the room, beyond the bright lights, if you stare long enough their form starts to develop, like in a Polaroid picture. All that was coming through were green palm trees over white, and a few inches above that, gleaming teeth nervously clenched.

He finally showed a sign of life. "I HAD to wear the Hawaiian shirt. I knew someone was gonna crack on this shirt."
--No, there's nothing wrong with your clothes! Let's talk about MY clothes." After all, the next 10 minutes are supposed to be about me. I looked at myself. I saw nothing funny about what I had chosen to wear. I shrugged and moved on to my next joke. Sadly he didn't come with me.

Even sadder, that God-awful shirt remained uncriticized.
Photo credit: boardgamegeek.com

The Font

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 14:48:00 +0000

Like most critics, I have a very strong opinion about films I have not seen before. After 40 Year Old Virgin, I figured there would never be a popular film featuring Seth Rogan that would be written with someone like me in mind. I respect that Judd Apatow is prolific, that a new branch of comedy has sprouted, and that such indie dramedies most likely have impeccable editing and solid acting. I just don't like when a film is sold as cool before I decide it is cool. I am hoping these cookie-cutter hipster films disappear from sight like so much trendy Zima spilled into someone's brightly-patterened Target rug.

Maybe Jonah Hill is hilarious. Maybe the accoustic guitar is romantic. I don't know, and I won't find out. Here's where you lost me: The font.

The font that says, I was drawn by a five-year-old. Or so they want you to think. This studio cares so little about aesthetics we have commissioned a team of highly paid engineers to design a program that delivers precision sloppy letters each time.

It also says, This movie is so hysterical, you will quote it (whispering) at art exhibits. This movie is so cutting edge, the soundtrack is by people you never heard of, but who have been blogged about for years. The issues the characters deal with are so real, you'll put down your man-bag to start a bro-mance with your dude-bra-ham-lincoln. Man-boobs a flopping.

It all started with a purpose: to mimic the handwriting you had in middle school.

But then it got out of hand.

I wouldn't be surprised if it were now used on wedding invitations. Ask for the "Michael Cera". I would go into how this font is a cue to buy vintage clothes and grow out your facial hair but Mark at I Watch Stuff already beat me to the punch...

And in case you need another signal that you are about to enter oaf-stoner-nerd trifecta territory, there's the red block-letter font.

Good luck exploring the infinite abyss

of my butt hole.

Soce the Elemental Wizard

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 17:05:00 +0000

Posting this from my phone. Testing...testing.

Abbi (from my cell phone)

Black Female Sketch Show

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 16:01:00 +0000

I emceed a show in the historic Nuyorican Poets Cafe yesterday. It reminded me of the Bowery Poetry club with art on the walls, an elevated stage and high ceilings. The house was packed for a sketch show called SisterGirl TV, featuring an all-black, all-female cast. It was a good time.

Me: "Where my Puerto Ricans at?"
Audience: (Cheers)
Me: "Bonsoir mes amis!!" I don't speak Spanish.

Highlights included a bizarrely blended parody of Dirty Dancing and Enter the Dragon, and a version of the Dating Game, where upon seeing his overweight choice of a date, the contestant exclaims, "That ain't baby fat. That's just fat, Baby!" There were Ike Turner, Archie Bunker and Rod Sterling impressions, all by black women in fake moustaches and white face. It was like In Living Color, but with more Kim Wayans.

Check out more shows at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe and don't forget to tip Pepe the bartender.

Veruca Salt and Fairuza Balk

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Sat, 30 May 2009 20:43:00 +0000

Same Person.

Was anyone else confused when they saw Return to Oz around the same time they saw Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory? You see two girls who look like the same actress, but then you ask the lady at Blockbuster, and learn that the films were made fourteen years apart.

"Well, they can't be the same person then. What's this girl's name in the Oz movie?"
--Fairuza Balk.
"Wait. Isn't that the character's name in Wonka?"
--I don't think so.
"I have to watch it again."

Then you watch it again, and learn her name is Veruca Salt, and you think, "Well, that name is a character name." But you turn on the radio, and the DJ says, "Special appearance by the hip, young, funky and fresh Veruca Salt, this Saturday at the Hoosier Dome."
And you think, "Well is it a character or a real person?!" And you complain about it to your friends at 6th period lunch. They tell you that Veruca Salt is a cool new band, like Beck or Zhane.

So you resign yourself to the fact that it is a wacky coincidence. Two women with the same face and eerily similar names both happen to go into acting and make cult kid films. But then you watch Back the the Future, and everything becomes clear.

Performing tonight at Delusions of Spandex Show!
Parkside Lounge
317 E. Houston St (@ Attorney)
New York, NY 10017
7:00PM, FREE

Ask Abbi: Annoying Introductions

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Fri, 29 May 2009 15:27:00 +0000

Chris from cynical-c.com asks:

What's the most annoying thing that happens when you meet someone new and tell them you're a comedian?

Thanks for writing without adding, "Hey here's one you can use in your act! A priest, a stripper and an amputee are at an aquarium..."

Upon introduction I like to show--not tell--my profession, and I find a hand buzzer does the job nicely. Ususally they're too irritated to ask me any questions.

Actually, I prefer the Bruce Wayne approach, where they never know that comedian Abbi Crutchfield is the same as the millionaire who is hosting the lovely party they are attending. There are a number of reasons for this, all based on past reactions I have had. Here they are in order of my loathing:

5: (Incredulous) You're a comedian? You don't look funny.
4: (Aggressive) Say something funny! Aw, come on. If you was really a comedian you'd say something funny RIGHT NOW.
3: (Patronizing) Oh, that's nice. Maybe we'll see you on Leno some day, huh?...what's that? Or who? Conan? I don't know Conan. I don't watch any of those late night talk shows.
2: (Feigned interest) Where do you play? (after I start listing comedy venues) Oh. Neat. I would now like to leave immediately because I just remembered I hate people.
1: (Overly Enthusiastic) Wow! Really? When's your next show? (After having missed several opportunities to see me) Come on, you really have to tell me about your next show! I'm dying to see you! Keep me posted! (When told my schedule is listed on my website) You really have to give me the name of that website! (After I've given it to them three times and told them to just Google me) You got a show coming up? I'm coming this time! (I tell them to wait until I come to them on their TV) Television?! Maybe we'll see you on Leno some day, huh?

Feel free to post your questions for Abbi in the comments section, to be answered in a later post, or write curlycomedy (at) yahoo.com with "Ask Abbi" in the Subject.

Photo credit:
superstock.com

Gold Tell It on the Mountains

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Thu, 28 May 2009 14:12:00 +0000

Had a good time on the Golden Birthday yesterday. I felt a lot of pressure to have planned something extraordinary, but the day crept up on me, and skydiving is too expensive. So I spent some time alone doing what I like to do. While these may sound like the events leading up to someone's suicide, they were actually a welcome departure from my normal grind.

Activity #1: Go to movies. I watched Dance Flick in an empty house except for two guys a few rows in front of me. "Yo dawg, we almost got this place to ourselves!" Luckily my presence didn't stop them from loudly rating the previews. The weirdest part about the event was carrying a bouquet of flowers given to me at work. I looked like I was in a pageant. Also, when you walk into businesses with flowers, people think you're there to deliver them. Even the homely girl who works the popcorn.

Activity #2: Loiter. I returned my wilting flowers to work using a shredder bin as a makeshift vase. With time to kill I went straight to a nearby Bed Bath and Beyond, standing in the entrance and inhaling the new stuff smells. Smelling's free! And looks as weird as it sounds.

Activity #3: Cake for one. I had a cupcake in the adjoining Barnes and Noble and resisted the urge to sing to myself.

Activity #4: Showtime. I performed at Gabe Pacheco and Dan Mahoney's show Haiku in the Village for a stand-up set. Comedians are also invited to write their own haikus. I took advantage of the Korean venue to recite the following.

Anyone like dogs?
Not if you are eating here!
Not racist when black.

You will be relieved to know I did not have a frozen dinner or curl up with a cat at the end of the night. That's for the 28th.

Golden Birthday

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Tue, 26 May 2009 15:38:00 +0000

This year marks my Golden Birthday, where I get a golden hue from turning 27 on the 27th. Some of you may be lamenting that you were born on the 3rd or the 8th, and you therefore missed the chance to celebrate this momentous occasion with a special outfit. Have no fear, you will get another opportunity when you are 103 or 108. And by then you won't remember what outfits are.

Every Living Room, we select one of the performers to be the Funniest Comedian of All Time. A blue baseball cap filled with names holds each comedian's fate, so we ceremoniously request the same thing each time: Bring out the Hat of Chance! At Friday's show, Luke interrupted the normal closing to proclaim, "Bring out the Cake of Birth!" To my surprise, a lovely chocolate and cherry masterpiece was unveiled from behind the bar.

This face is showing surprise, and not the orangutan mating call.

Instead of candles it had stirring straws. So instead of blowing on them, I sucked the cake through them. It took five hours.

Twenty-seven feels old. When I was younger, if you asked me what a 27 year old's life looked like, I would say, "She has kids and drinks coffee and reads the part of the newspaper that's not the comics and wears shoulder pads." Luckily the only part of that prophecy that is true is the coffee. I often forget that I am an adult. Sometimes I will walk along the perimeter of a playground and make eye contact with a 10 year old as if to say, "Psh. Parents. Ya feel me?" and he looks away because to him I am the most attractive drug dealer he has ever seen.

Want to wish me a happy birthday in person? Come see me perform Wed May 27 on the Haiku show at Jeollado!

8:00PM
Jeollado
116 E. 4th St (1st and 2nd Ave)
New York, NY 10003

Photos by Alex Urde

When Bloggers Unite

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Tue, 19 May 2009 13:32:00 +0000

Me with my buddy blogger Tom Pryor of the amazing, Wonder-Years-Meets-A-Bronx-Tale blog Yorkville: Stoops to Nuts

On May 7 I ventured out to DUMBO, not to eat a piping hot pizza pie from Grimaldi's, nor to get schooled on the use of quinoa in visual art from a resident eepstair (European hipster), but to celebrate writing my blog with other bloggers from Brooklyn. It was the 2009 Brooklyn Blog Fest, and I had a front row seat.

That was pretty much all I had. I participated in a small talking circle, but mainly just listened and learned. Most attendants were treated to some creative filmwork by BlueBarn Pictures, showcasing the photography of local blogging artists, the diversity of the blogs that come from the borough, and celebrating the memory of a contributor who had passed away.

Then Juno interviewed a panel of bloggers.
The raven-haired beauty on the end is Melissa Lopata, editor of Hip Slope Mama, the parenting blog to which I contribute.

There was a pretty good turn out, thanks to the work of Eleanor Traubman (of Creative Times), as the seats of PowerHouse Books filled quickly.

Dodo Cat

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Mon, 11 May 2009 15:53:00 +0000

We all mourn the loss of the infamous bird by the same name, but no one ever discusses the disappearance of the Dodo Cat, first depicted in the 1980 cartoon Heathcliff, where a cat named Mungo would say stupid things in a low-register.

Arguably a cat that can speak English and dress itself in a red tank top should be lauded as intellectually advanced, but it is theorized by the aforementioned cartoon that the Dodo Cat is a follower by nature who seldom has the answer to even the simplest of questions. It was this ignorance and lack of cunning that is thought to have contributed to cat's endangerment. It was constantly duped into being eaten by its predators after losing at a game of checkers.

Today, in a photo recently released by the National Geographic, the cat once thought to be extinct has been discovered in Suburban North America.

Its survival instincts still drastically lower than that of the common domesticated feline, the Dodo Cat may be preserved if housed in captivity away from flammable items and snap-lid containers.

Thanks For Coming

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Fri, 08 May 2009 14:28:00 +0000

Comedian Matt Ruby recently posted about producing a live comedy show, and the things he wished he could say to people hounding him for stage time, but that his good manners and business savvy keep him from blurting out:

I'd like to be honest with you though. I'm extremely picky and I turn down the majority of people who ask to be on the show. If you wind up not getting booked, here's the most likely reason: It's not clear to me that you're funny enough.

Click here to read the whole post. It is very interesting.

On the heels of that idea, I would add that as a producer of a show you are also not supposed to tell people why you choose not to have them back. In the interest of providing insight into these decisions, here is one imagined response to a re-booking request.

Well LOOK who it is,

You have a lot of nerve requesting a spot again. (Pours glass of whiskey) Are you sure you know your way to the show? Because you cancelled twice for getting lost, once for going to the wrong show and staying there, and once for bad weather and so you sent a friend in your place. (Swigs drink. Sets glass down.) We have now booked that friend regulary over the past year.

Let's talk about your contribution to the show on the night you came. (Gets up, walks over to blinds. Looks out window.) You requested to go early so that you could hit another show afterward, and then you were late, which caused us to delay the opening and rearrange the lineup at the last minute. You regaled us with a bit on edible funderwear, whatever that is. (Turns around.) The rule of threes does not apply to the number of times you should say, "Y'all look bored". I take it you did not read the e-mail that reminded you not to swear. The first few F-bombs came unconsciously. In all fairness it IS your adjective of choice when you have no idea what to say next. But once you realized it, you brought attention to it, which prompted you to make fun of the venue and the audience. (Wags finger in visitor's face) Get back on your motorcyle, and go knock up some other town's teens you rebel!

You hated your time on stage so you did not thank us for the spot. (Pacing) You don't recognize us, the co-producers, outside of the show and continually confuse us with other comedians. (Sits down) You heckled the host, you abused the equipment, you left early and with a lot of noise. You smell like feta cheese, and you make me sick. (Gets out of seat and lunges at visitor across the desk) GOD CURSE THE DAY YOU WERE BORN! (Composes self) Get out of here and don't you ever come back! Wait just a moment you self-absorbed, knock-kneed parasite. I do have one more thing to say to you, you dispicible piece of marinated garbage:

I hear the show you do is great--got any open spots next month?

Photo of Matt Ruby at The Living Room Show by Aemiessence Fine Arts

Ask Abbi: Too Far?

curlycomedy@yahoo.com (Abbi Crutchfield) — Thu, 07 May 2009 15:30:00 +0000

Chris of cynical-c.com writes:

As a comedian, where do you personally draw the line?

Many comedians take pride in being able to say they write and perform "edgy material." Edgy material gets its name from the jagged edge of a can of anchovies. It harkens back to the days when housewives did not have electronic appliances, or the good sense to serve something tasty for dinner. Upon hearing about the contents of his meatloaf, one man was known to push his plate away from himself. The result is that no one wanted edgy material from women.

Fast forward a few decades where it became trendy for comedians who were lesbians to speak about this duality and more importantly wear white socks with black shoes. Telling stories about their lives caused network executives to bristle, and televised comedy from white women was only acceptable in self-deprication form. Because a woman who puts herself down is not threatening. Black women were exempt from having to put themselves down because they were typically cast in second class roles on sitcoms.

This limitation has not kept female comedians from exploring the sordid (Sarah Silverman), the silly (Ellen DeGeneres), the relatable (Rita Rudner) or the unexpected (Maria Bamford), and because of such things as The Women's Liberation Movement and The Cosby Show, women can now choose to be self-depricating, self-assured, rude or shocking with their material. And they only have to be naked depending on where they want it to air.

I draw the line, dear reader, at a number of topics so as not to offend a long list of people. As a woman of color who does not wear bikinis onstage, I tend to keep my content relatable and silly and my demeanor pleasant and confident. That is because I want to win the crowd's trust so that I may pick their pockets later.

Feel free to post your questions for Abbi in the comments section, to be answered in a later post, or write curlycomedy (at) yahoo.com with "Ask Abbi" in the Subject.