Leave It To Beaver

As many of you know, I turned 36 in June. Not exactly old or young, just sorta lost in the in between. And I'm cool with my age. But, you can imagine my shock and dismay upon discovering, I have three gray hairs. This isn't so much a vanity thing. Everyone knows that I've been seen walking out of my house looking like this, (scroll to the picture) which clearly means I am by far the least vain of all carnie/lesbo looker-likers the world has ever known.

Many will say gray hair comes from stress. Sure I have my share, who doesn't?! Some say grays come with maturity. I have my moments of maturity, few and far between but they are there, sort of. But really, gray hair at this age? What the hell am I going to look like when I'm in my 60s or 70s?

These aren't your ordinary gray hairs either. They are longer and more coarse than any other hairs I've encountered. These are by all rights...guitar strings. Just like the Tom & Jerry episode where Jerry's uncle comes to town, singing Crambone, "Cain't play without a geetar strang!" which is my favorite next to the Mamãe eu quero episode where the crazy cats use Tom's whiskers as violin strings.

Okay, so I'm getting my train off the track. The reality is, I have not been entirely truthful with you guys. My grays are more like ukulele strings. Yes they are slightly shorter or smaller and maybe less popular than guitar or violin strings, because...oh God... they are pubes.

Who gets gray pubes? I mean, I know everyone does... eventually but at 36, really? Is my beaver under stress? Has my cooter gone off the deep end? Is my vag unstable? Is this the final meat curtain call? Would Miss Clairol's Loving Care really wash that gray right out of my hair? Or would it take something tougher like Dark and Lovely to fix my box? Or should I embrace these "hairs of knowledge" gracefully?

How can anything about a person be graceful when their pubes have teamed up against them?

Waxing professionals, (I know, just typing the word wax while talking about that area makes me cringe too) which are people who get paid to rip your pubes right out of your cooter are now offering designs. They have specialty items including hearts, stars, lightning bolts and now may I suggest the ukulele inspired by me and my aging beaver.

Is this even normal? And if it is, why hasn't anyone ever mentioned it before? Perhaps if I'd known sooner, I'd been less traumatized by their shimmery glow.

I tried getting a hint of sympathy from Mr. Lane but he was too busy laughing at what he now calls the Silver Fox Box.

Reason 8,974 why I don't like that man.

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Uncle Eddie and my sister Mary are both in the hospital. If you're the praying kind please send up a smoke signal for them.

Cracklin' Rosie

I haven't heard from Rosie...yet. But if you guys keep trying, and I keep writing, hoping, praying, believing, it's bound to happen. Squeaky wheel gets the grease, remember.

I miss her old blog. Days of deep posts from hidden places in her mind, written like lyrics, thoughts in bunches typed on the page. The press thought she was trying to be poetic. They have trouble with reading comprehension, apparently.

The interaction and unlimited comments are long gone. Too many people found out Rosie O'Donnell kept a blog. Too many letters to respond to. Too many people in need, begging for her to fix what ails them, whether it be money or emotional trauma. How exactly did she become the Dear Abby of the internet? Too many haters and gay-bashers came in, ruined that too. I don't get hate. Seems such a waste of energy and emotion.

Selfishly, I miss when so few knew and we could keep her to ourselves. Seemed so much less stalkery to visit her page several times a day than it does now. Annie, Canadian Girl Heidi, Biscuit, Sarah Lee you girls remember those days, don't you? She is how we met. She brought me friends from far away places I may have never met otherwise. I should be thankful for that in itself.

Ross and ANT were threads of her love quilt, where I met many more of you. That really should be sufficient. I have oodles of love from so many people. Those guys are our Kevin Bacon, our six-degrees, minus five, to Rosie O'Donnell.

That selfish side of me wants more, as always. I am not in it for fortune or fame. I don't want my name in lights. I don't want to be the center of attention... unless when it comes to my family, then, yes, I am the baby and I DESERVE the extra coddling. But really, I just want to write and see the words unravel on a stage, and hear the roar of laughter from the audience. Part of me believes that would be payment enough. The folks at the electric and gas companies beg to differ. I bet they wouldn't let me trade in laughter as payment for a bill. Blood sucking bastards, clearly have no sense of humor, whatsoever.

Sometimes when I write a post that I think is funny, I feel cheated that I can't hear and see your reaction. I know when I've set my mother's kitchen on fire, or pissed my pants, or chased after Mr. Lane with my milk-filled breasts as if they were Super Soakers, that there was a smile or laughter somewhere far away from me. Just knowing ought to be enough. Don't know why it isn't.

One person connecting through those words on their own screen, it's pretty cool. I wonder if your dog or cat, husband or wife, son or daughter is looking at you funny when you are laughing at a computer screen. I know mine do when I read yours. The posts that received a big comment response over the years, finally made it to the sidebar. On your right, you'll see "Reader's Choice" links. If you've been here for the last four years, you probably already read them. If you are new here, and need a laugh, well look no further.

Besides finding ways to stalk contact Rosie, I am keeping lots of irons in the fire. I'm still freelancing for whoever will hire me. I'm still creating characters and sketches, so I'll have a thick notebook full of them when Rosie finally says, "Alright already, Lois, you pain in the ass, show me what you've got."

The parade float fiasco should have been enough penance served, but somehow, I found myself at the teen center during the fall festival fund raiser, roasting 400 hot dogs last week. Who does that? I also was the sucker volunteer who made six gallons of hot cocoa. Did I mention the cocoa was in individual pouches? Anyone want to guess how many pouches it takes to make six freakin' gallons? Anyone know what cocoa dust does to boogers? Certainly not chocolaty goodness.

My sister Angie and I made plans for next week. I seriously can't wait for that. Since I moved here, I haven't seen my family much at all. Gas prices vs. food and utility prices vs. spending time with loved ones, such a fucked up choice to be forced to make.

Great Scott, Phil and I are working on a project together. Once it is ready for your eyes, I'll link you up. I believe they are launching the site on November 15th. I love any collaboration I can get my hands on. It's exercise for the brain.

I think that about sums up what's been going on in my neck of the woods. I'll be by your blogs to catch up with all of you while I kick back and enjoy this quiet weekend.

Operation RoLo

Operation RoLo is in full-swing! Thanks to all of you participating. If you are new here, this is the scoop: I want a comedy writing job, specifically one working for and with, Rosie O'Donnell. Last week it was announced that she is getting her own variety show, which is her dream job. Coincidence, that my dream job is writing sketch comedy for such a show? I think not. I would just die to be the Vicki Lawrence to her Carol Burnett. Die!!

Not that I want to be on screen, or die exactly, but you know what I mean.

So my post below is an open letter to Rosie O'Donnell asking her for a job. My friends here and elsewhere on these interwebs and in real life, are helping me achieve my dream job by commenting to Rosie in my comment section. They are also contacting Rosie through her website. In the Ask Ro section, they say I am someone she should consider for a comedy writing job, and they provide her with my link. Many are doing this every single day, and let me just say, I am so appreciative, I can't find the right words.

Every time I send her my own link, I feel so pushy and stalkery, but I do it anyhow because I know the squeaky wheel gets the grease. And since, Rosie played Rizzo in the Broadway production of Grease, it's RoLo fate for rizzle!

In 1978 my brother Jimmy got his license. Mom and Dad made him take all of us kids to the movie theater to see Grease. It was the first time we went anywhere in a car without our parents. We felt liberated. Well, maybe not Jimmy. Rizzo was my favorite character in the movie. She was a tough, funny and secretly a nice and sensitive person. Sound like anyone you know?

Seeing that movie, and feeling so liberated, as the whole lot of us drank from the same giant cup eating popcorn out of the same bucket, was my future taking shape. Who knew?

She intends to have lots of singing and dancing much like the acts from Vaudeville back in the day. Lucky for Rosie, I also love to write song parodies. Can you see the win/win here people?

So back to the mission... Operation RoLo began when I posted my last blog. But it didn't really take off until my good friend Dawn, yes Richmond BC Dawn made the suggestion that everyone send Rosie my link in her Ask Ro section. Dawn turned out to be a great leader. She sent the masses over to Rosie's blog, and I have no doubt one of those awesome people are going to get my link seen by Rosie O'Donnell. And, here I go pulling another contest out of my butt... whoever gets a comment through, that Rosie posts, with my link, will get their very own...



I know, it's pretty awesome. RoLo, is the unofficial candy of Operation RoLo.

A long time ago, there was an Irish, Catholic, funny girl who had a passion for making people laugh. She lost a parent to cancer. She has a passion for making life good for children. She was a magazine editor. She gets angry when she looks at the state of her beloved country. She loves her wife. She believes everyone should have equal rights. She loves with all of her heart. She knows anyone can fulfill their dreams.

Today, there is an Irish, Catholic, funny girl who has a passion for making people laugh. She lost a parent to cancer. She has a passion for making life good for children. She was a newspaper editor. She gets angry when she looks at the state of her beloved country. She loves her husband. She believes everyone should have equal rights. She loves with all of her heart. She knows anyone can fulfill their dreams.


In life, there are no coincidences, only fate.

Rosie Can You Hear Me?

Open Letter to Ro from Lo

Dear Rosie O'Donnell, I pretty much already auditioned to be a writer on your show, Rosie's Variety Hour, since we have been blog buddies for nearly four years. I've been to your blog, you've been to mine. You have been very kind and inspiring to me.

Leaving these comments:

In response to this post, you said,

"hey u r an amazing writer
funny and real
i love this story

my son wears my sweat pants
he looks like a rap star from iowa
my lil homey

peace out lois

ro"


And in this post I suggest I may not be funny enough to get a dream job writing for SNL, Mad TV, The Tonight Show or Ellen.

But you said,

"u r funny lois
i bet u could get a writing gig
on one of those shows
if u really wanted it

but what do i know

journalists - on tv at least
seem crippled and cowardly
2 me lately

i am getting old
rosie o"

In the Ask Ro section of your blog you gave me advice saying I should go to The Second City. You told me I had nothing to lose. You were right, and beyond supportive. And I believe I had the time of my life there. Comedy writing in a collaborative setting was something I never had the chance to do before then, and I simply loved every second of participating.

You helped me to believe in myself and my writing. Your words echoed inside of my head when I felt my writing wouldn't go anywhere but in my notebooks and computer files.

I have created characters, skits, monologues and just plain old silly jokes non stop for years. Until now, I've had no place to send it to. Sure, I've written to Lorne Michaels so many times, he probably has a stalker alert that comes up every time he sees my email address. But, again, it's gone nowhere.

I know people are always asking you for shit. But if you teach a gal to fish... I promise not to just screw the guy in the bait shop.

I would love to pay you back for your kindness. I would love to be a part of something that gives people reasons to laugh again. In this world, it gets harder and harder to find the humor. But if laughter is the best medicine, then we have to forge ahead. I got a PHD in LOL.

If you, like Rosie, have ever read my blog and laughed, I would like for you to comment. I would like Rosie O'Donnell to see that I have a prescription pad filled with laughter ready to medicate the masses.

Love, Lo

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Pinky is our big winner once again. Queen Janine came in a close-ish second. Congratulations, Pinky! Send me your mailing address and I'll have Bud Buckley send your autographed CD. Bud thank you so much for sharing your music. You rock...literally!

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Following the dramatic turn of events with my whacked out brother in-law, (please see this post) I found out that I have my very own Fairy Blog Parent.

Seriously, how lucky am I? I don't want to mention names but I'll just say that this person knows me and my little family through reading this blog over the last four years. And this person was beyond kind, sending my son money toward his new room.

If my Fairy Blog Parent wants to out themselves in the comment section, by all means, please do. Until then, know that I was beyond shocked and thrilled, at the same time feeling, "I can't take this!" I may have even cried like one or two tears. And you all know Lois don't cry for nothin'! Anyhow, thank you again, you wonderful person.