When I’m not on stage, I’m performing for this guy. He doesn’t tip the waitstaff and he’s a heckler. Big time.

Last night’s show was great. It was my first show at a bar and while the audience was very attentive, I knew I was competing with the vast expanse of sports tv on the wall. Still I was grateful for the laughs and for my friends Josh and Lana for showing up and filming the clip above.

I read that performing comedy is like swimming with a knife in your teeth. It’s hard. It’s competitive. There are rules and then there are no rules. There are late nights. There are very few women in this male-dominated field and even fewer of them are moms. It’s unlikely that hours before taking the stage, many of my fellow performers had to remind their children that one basic rule in the house is that we do not suffocate our brother.

I go to open mics and if I get on, even if I’m the 38th out of 40 on the list, I treat it seriously. I’m here to be better. I study how other comics hold the mic, lead into other jokes, how the audience responds to them. I’m learning to be more confident in my material, even though I don’t swear or yell or take off my shirt (not yet!). I bring what I believe is funny and I have been fortunate that some people find it funny, too.

I’m so glad to be in this water with very funny people, a machete in my teeth while I swim and swim until I hit land and it’s time for me to take the stage.

This is from last Monday’s open mic at the Comedy Underground. This is also why you should come see me this Sunday! I have more funny to bring, friends.

Sunday, February 12 at 7 PM.
All-Star Sports Bar & Grill.
22303 Marine View Drive S
Des Moines, WA 98198.
No cover

Hope to see you there!

My body has endured the crazy shifts that come with bearing two enormous children and losing most of the baby weight they brought with them. And it’s sad that until recently I had been wearing the same bra size, a size that was woefully inaccurate but I was too lazy, confused and then even more lazy to correct. I don’t know why I haven’t updated that number until now, even though the voice in my head says, “WHY AREN’T YOU ACTING LIKE A GROWN-UP, RAMONA?!” to which I say, “I don’t know! I learned all my beauty tips from my mom’s copy of Color Me Beautiful which was very confusing because I grew up on an island and how was I supposed to what a ‘winter’ was when we never had snow?”

So I went to the Nordstrom downtown armed with a Please Help Me face (furrowed brow, eyes squinting–a human version of a homeless person’s “Anything helps!” cardboard sign) until a beautiful sales woman stopped and smiled, “Can I help you?” And I whispered to her, “Could I get someone to help me with a bra fitting?” This is the same whisper I’ve used at the doctor’s office when I wasn’t sure where to put the pee cup sample they requested (to all those lost souls in doctor’s office bathrooms using your smart phones to google “Where do I put the pee cup?!” the answer is: leave it in the bathroom in the metal-looking cabinet. Someone will get it on the other side. No need to surreptitiously steal away to the receptionist! The more you know!)

The sales woman had gorgeous hair in tiny braids that was held up in a large bun and somehow it made me feel more at ease that she was a woman of color and not a ditz with a high-pitched voice who would likely share at the next team meeting how she had to file for workman’s comp after dealing with me.

A few minutes later we were both in a softly-lit dressing room with a tape measure around my rib cage. Her voice was still soft as she asked me about the type of bra I liked. She treated me with kid gloves, asking questions I will happily field like, “Have you lost weight?” She brought me about twenty bras to try on, from softly padded to a bra so thick with batting it was like I was smuggling two heads of cabbage out of a grocery store and figured where to store the goods.

But she was incredibly patient and asked me how the bras felt. She gave me some advice on what I should be looking for because of my body type. And I bought some beautiful, correctly-sized bras and spent more on bras than I have spent on bras ever but it was worth it.

I’ve never had professional help before when bra-shopping. My mom bought me my first bra when I was 10 years old, in the pre-teen section of JC Penney’s. I had said, “I think it’s time to buy a bra, Mom,” to which she sighed but agreed. That first bra looked like a spandex trebuchet that snapped in front. I was developing physically but that didn’t mean I had the maturity to handle the transition because I snapped and unsnapped that closure like the annoying person in the office (me!) who can’t leave a loud, clickable pen alone.

And I left with my Nordstrom bag and newly-acquired intimates inside. It took all my strength not to high-five strangers and yell, “It’s okay if you don’t look at me in the eyes!”

Sunday, February 12 at 7 PM.
All-Star Sports Bar & Grill.
22303 Marine View Drive S
Des Moines, WA 98198.
No cover

Hope to see you there!

I spend a lot of time worrying about my upcoming trip to Saipan which is NEXT MONTH! My biggest worry is the flight there, the longest leg of it being 10 hours with TJ on my lap. What will I do!? I don’t worry about the subsequent flights after that–the four hours to Guam and then the final, glorious hour-long flight to Saipan. I don’t think the 3:00 am final flight will be packed and then, maybe then, I can plop him on the seat next to me and then PEACE JOYOUS PEACE.

I have some ideas about what to pack–mostly Trader Joe’s snacks and little wrapped-presents so TJ will have lots to eat and play with and of course this will occupy him until he sleeps for eight of the ten hours, right? I am not going to drug my son even though that idea has been tossed my way. Though I’m tempted by the idea of ether-soaked rags, not for my son, but for myself because I doubt that I’ll be able to sleep. Ether looks so effective in murder mysteries, right before the murder part, of course.

And then I worry about how I look, how I will look to my family there. My body, weight, hair were all subject to UNSOLICITED COMMENTS as if every time I entered a room, my face begged the ladies around me, “Hey, can someone tell me if I look today? And only give me an answer that will make me cry while I am eating!”

Maybe none of that nonsense will happen and I will be serenaded with a sincere “heyyyy girl!” whenever I walk into a room and not, “Heyyy girl! You’re not afraid of gout?”

I had a really wonderful birthday. My kids let me sleep for two hours without trying to pry my eyes open, my husband took me out to dinner and when we got home, I had second dessert (the second I had counted after I had lost initially count and then said/wept, “Okay, one more piece! I need to stop substituting food for love!”) of tres leches cake with pineapple and coconut on top.

Plus, I had an even better birthday thanks to all the birthday messages I received on facebook and instagram. If there’s anything that social media is good for, it’s to hear “happy birthday, Mona” from very sweet people who are not my mother and also not myself whispering my lone birthday wishes into a mirror, wondering when this time pendulum will stop swinging. So thank you for all the great birthday wishes, it makes my Benjamin Button face smile.

Today a package came from my sister Bobbie. Some of the products you can find and order from mytenda.com especially if you’re a Chamorro living in the mainland and you cannot find lemon-flavored Hi-C (now called Paradise Sun) abroad. I’m not just saying it because my sister and brother-in-law are the new owners, but because it’s the easiest way to get these remnants of my island upbringing–choco-pies, shrimp chips (these are salty and delicious, trust), drinks, the BBQ flavored cracker nuts–to me. I love ice keki, OBVIOUS HINT.

My sister included some goodies that aren’t available on the website, but she thought I would need:

Sure, Those Days maxi pads. Sister friends, don’t we all have THOSE DAYS? And I need the maxiest of maxi pads on those days. Well played, sis. And Prickly Heat soap? Because the way I lather up, I need some soap to cool me down. That’s why I’m also afraid when I wear pantyhose that I will start a fire and the firemen will conclude that no foul play was involved, just No Nonsense stockings and thighs that have bulged because of too much cake. It’s like my sister tapped into the fake Amazon wishlist that I’m too lazy to write, I just look at things and add them to my mental catalogue of what I hope someone would make my wishes come true without my having to say anything.

Then I found this, the fulfillment of everything I didn’t know I wanted. Please click through to view it in full.

Sure, I love herbal soaps. Sure! Red roses extract? Fancy! Roses on the packaging! Because lady parts are delicate flowers! That cost $$$ if you order them in a dozen and if you are at bar and some old lady comes up offering single stems for your date, you look like a cheapskate if you refuse.

IT ALSO TIGHTENS VAGINAL MUSCLE. I feel like there were no women involved in the creation of this product. Because wouldn’t that be the first thing it says? It smacks of the “But wait! If you order now…” urgency of informercials (for floppy vaginas, apparently). Don’t bury it behind the seductive words like “reducing inflammation” and “burning sensation.” Also tightens vaginal muscle!? Lead off with that, especially for those people who aren’t finding what they need from crossfit classes.

It says, “gently apply to the feminine area” as if I didn’t know where to put these soap magic. The title “Virginity Soap Feminine Tightening” just doesn’t give me any direction. I’m so clueless!

Why would I want my virginity back? Losing it was so awkward in the first place, do I want a beauty product to take me back to my boyfriend’s room where he used a Bob Marley/Lion BEACH TOWEL as a wall decoration and Peter Cetera’s Forever Tonight played in the background?! No thank you!

Despite all this, I’m thinking of emptying out my bank account and stockpiling this magic. Are you in?

So which one of you is bringing the fine leather goods? Or sing in unison the description of my birthday: THE BEST DAY OF THE YEEEAR!

Happy birthday to me! TREAT MO’ SELF!

]]> http://kirida.com/2012/01/treat-myself-birthday-edition/feed/ 9 http://kirida.com/2012/01/treat-myself-birthday-edition/ http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/kirida/oavF/~3/vDyrlvo5-cg/ http://kirida.com/2012/01/a-very-tropical-birthday-to-me/#comments Thu, 19 Jan 2012 22:13:56 +0000 mona http://kirida.com/?p=4296 read more »]]>

My birthday is tomorrow but since I was born on Saipan, I will celebrate my birthday now and start yelling to everyone in earshot, “IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!”

Thankfully, my sweet nieces have joined in and sent me this jungle themed birthday card.  They risked their lives for this photo just for my special day.  I wish some people I live with would do as much and not just say, “Mommy, get up, the pizza is ready!”

My work has closed for the day. I am contemplating how much food we have left in this house before I have to trek to the neighborhood 7-11 for sundries and let’s be honest, wine. Okay, let’s be really honest, a large bottle of Corona (because I’ll be transported to a beach, right? Like in the commercials?!) Until then, TJ and I will take photos of ourselves and imagine what that biting wind feels like but not experience it because we are not brave.

In Seattle, people do not know how to drive in the snow and that’s perfectly understandable because it doesn’t snow like this often for people to understand how to navigate the roads even if there’s only 2 inches of snow on a hill:

That is what I look like driving, only instead of a mini-cooper, imagine whatever is between a derby boxcar and a Yugo.

Also for your amusement.