Shag Schwag: The Condom on the Kitchen Table

© 2010 Leighann Lord

My Husband and I text each other all the time. Mostly innocuous fare: "I love you. How was the show? I'm on my way home, do you need anything?" I was completely unprepared for, "Um . . . Baby . . . Why is there a condom on my kitchen table?" To be fair, my Husband was probably equally unprepared to find a prophylactic by his breakfast bowl, and my reply, "I love schwag" didn't really clear things up.

The night before, I had done a benefit comedy show, "Avoid the Clap - Jimmy Dugan" sponsored by Condom Cents. The title was taken from an obscure but funny line said by Tom Hanks in the film "A League of Their Own." The venue, a cute and cozy room at the back of O'Hanlon's Bar, featured comfy couches and low tables each sporting neatly packaged individual condoms. Woo hoo! At other shows I've been given tee shirts, pens, mugs, and hats, but this was my first comedy condom.

The next day before leaving the house to run errands, I cleared out my handbag of all the stuff I didn't need, leaving the condom on the table.

Unchecked, my kitchen table has the ability to morph into an open air junk drawer. Mail, newspapers, magazines, house keys, pens, business cards, notes, loose change, receipts, computer equipment. We put something down for just a minute and weeks go by. It's the Table of Convenience & Indecision. It's a convenient place to put stuff we want but we’re just not sure what to do with. Sometimes stuff migrates from the kitchen table to the chairs and then back to the table, with a possible stop on the living room couch.

This particular morning, the table was relatively clear and so the condom stood out. If my Husband were a jealous man this would have been a dangerous moment. A random condom raises eyebrows. Laying there with no explanation, any man would wonder: "Why is this here? Where is my wife? Who do I have to kill?"

Call me sexist, but I just don't think women make those kinds of mistakes. You find out a woman has cheated on her husband, when she's sitting in the nursing home, turns to husband Harry and says, "Jack, is that you?"

In retrospect, what I feel bad about is missing a chance to be romantic. I could have left a cute note with the condom saying, "Hey Baby, save room for dessert."

This kind of mis-communication probably deserved a phone call instead of a return text, but for my Husband -- a comic, movie buff and avid baseball fan -- "Avoid The Clap - Jimmy Dugan" seemed to suffice.

Leighann Lord is a stand-up comedian. Saturday, April 3 she'll be performing at The Laugh Lounge & The Comic Strip! For details and other upcoming shows go to www.VeryFunnyLady.com. Join her on FaceBook. Follow her on Twitter.

It's Official: My Dog Out Ranks Me

Proud Member of Rolie’s Army

© 2010 Leighann Lord

I read an article in The Wall Street Journal recently about First Sergeant Gunner, a Marine dog serving in Afghanistan and suffering from Canine Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The poor pooch has been unfit for duty, unable to sniff out explosives, and reacting nervously to gunfire. The Marines haven't given Gunner the Donald Trump treatment, trying instead to rehab him. I find it fascinating that: "The Marine Corps gives each dog a military rank, one notch above his handler's, to reinforce the idea that the dogs deserve respect." After reading this, I looked over at my Dog and he looked at me as if to say, "I told you so."

This explains a lot. Cocker Spaniels seem to have a regal bearing. I realize now I may have been confusing regal with commanding. By any measure, my Little Furry Guy's in charge. In me, my Husband and my Parents he has four very well trained humans at his beck and call, not to mention an extended staff of groomers, veterinarians, and well wishers. I guess Rolie's entourage is really Rolie's Army.

Which leads me to wonder what branch of service he'd be in. Like a cat he hates water so the Navy is out. Much as it pains me to say, he doesn't have the heart of a Marine. Semper Woof? Not likely.

Army? Well, Army of One would be a good fit. We've toyed with the idea of getting a second dog, but we're pretty sure Rolie was meant to be an only. Whenever we take him to Doggie Day Care, he looks at the other dogs as if they're beneath him. He manages a mingled look of contempt and disdain that would make Judge Judy proud.

If a morning constitutional counts, then Rolie does get quite a bit done before 9:00 a.m. than most people do all day but, he's really not a "Be all that you can be" kinda dog. That slogan however, is more enticing than the current and over simplified "Go Army." One wonders what inspired The Army to trade slogans with The Greyhound Bus Company. Shouldn’t the whole slogan be “Go Army and leave the fighting to us!”?

The unofficial motto of The Air Force is "Uno Ab Oto" (One Over All), and that pretty much describes my Little Old Man. While the Air Force is the youngest branch of service, it enjoys the biggest budget, the best food, and the nicest bases. That's got Rolie written all over it. He's a big part of my budget, we buy him the best food and he's got a great home. As far as rank goes, General Roland T. Nubbins has a nice ring to it.

At present, The General is on a diet. Cocker Spaniels are prone to weight problems and Rolie has gotten a little polie. We've cut back on the biscuits and upped his walks, which has made the General a little grumpy, a side effect of post traumatic snack disorder. He looks longingly at his treat box and then accusingly at me. "Stop complaining," I say. "It's for your own good. At least you're not dieting in a war zone . . . Sir.”

Leighann Lord is a stand-up comedian. Saturday, March 27th she'll be performing at The Comedy Cabaret in Doylestown, PA! Check out her other upcoming shows @ www.VeryFunnyLady.com. Join her on FaceBook. Follow her on Twitter.

NY Politics, The Real Big Apple Circus

© 2010 Leighann Lord

New York State Governor David Paterson is messing it up for blind people everywhere. Someday a really good candidate, who happens to be blind, is going to run for governor and everybody's gonna say, “Hell no! Remember the last one!” The scandals are developing daily and the calls for his resignation are swelling to an operatic crescendo, but Paterson will probably knuckle down and stay in office until he runs out of business cards.

Accused, among other things, of abusing the power of his office, the problem is that Paterson probably never planned to be governor. He was sitting in his office minding his business when he got the call about now former Governor Eliot Spitzer:

"He did what?... I'm what? ... Oh crap! I'm gonna need a new suit."

Spitzer, you'll recall, resigned in the wake of a prostitution scandal. Ironically, Kristin Davis, The Manhattan Madame from whom "Client Number 9" procured the punani, is now running for governor. Only in New York, my friends. I think we should elect her. She's already been to jail, so the suspense is over. It's worth noting that Mr. Spitzer has done no jail time. Perhaps The Powers That Be have assumed that public humiliation is enough. It's not, but at least he had the decency to resign. South Carolina’s Governor Mark Sanford has not. But I digress.

Currently New York enjoys a dysfunctional state legislature, a former congressman who admitted to groping and tickling staff members, a senior legislator who writes tax law, but doesn't follow it, and now an unpopular governor who’s days are numbered. Chicago will be calling soon to concede its corruption crown.

There was a time, not long ago, when New Yorkers sat in judgment, openly mocking New Jersey’s political problems. Now, if Jersey plays its cards right, it could invade and take over New York. They’ve already got a toe hold in Staten Island.

New York would be a plum prize but for its massive money problems. As of late, the Governor’s been anxious to put aside all of his headline grabbing gaffs so he can get to work balancing the budget. I guess there’s nothing like the threat of losing your job, to inspire you to actually do it.

You know it's bad when everybody's ganging up on the blind guy. With staffers deserting in droves, Paterson should get himself a dog, a bit of positive political theater. It's hard to be mad at a guy with a seeing eye wing man. One look at a cute pup wagging his tail, noshing on a chew toy and you might forget to ask if said toy was purchased with public funds or if it's being included in the next round of budget cuts.

The scuttlebutt is that Paterson will probably resign before I get this blog posted. (Buffering, buffering, buffering.) But wishing doesn't make it so. It might be a good idea if we all familiarize ourselves with New York's gubernatorial line of succession. At the rate we're losing leaders, the head of the Department of Sanitation should expect a phone call:

"He did what?.... I'm what? .... Oh crap! I'm gonna need a new suit."

Leighann Lord is a stand-up comedian. March 19 & 20 she'll be appearing The Comedy Works in Bristol, PA. Check out her other upcoming shows @ www.VeryFunnyLady.com. Join her on FaceBook. Follow her on Twitter.

Back From Iraq! The Desert is No Place for Neat Freaks

© 2010 Leighann Lord

Entertaining the troops in the Middle East back in 2002 during Operation Enduring Freedom was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Spending 30 days on bases in Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Saudi Arabia was alternately thrilling and exhausting. I assumed I'd never do it again. But alas, my wanderlust got the better of me and - thanks to Armed Forces Entertainment – off I went to Iraq: Five comics, nine bases, 10 days. Amazing!

Hands down, military audiences are some of the best I've ever performed for. Given the stressful environment and dangerous jobs they do, the soldiers are highly appreciative of the brief respite they get from visiting entertainers. We are treated like gold.

One of the coolest things was getting to literally bunk in Saddam Hussein's Hunting Lodge. The U.S. military converted this mini palace into a hotel complete with dining area, gym and internet. Aside from the bunk beds, the Lodge was lavishly furnished with the gaudiest Victorian furniture I've ever seen. It's proof that being a wealthy, maniacal dictator doesn't automatically confer one with a sense of style.

Because of the upcoming Iraqi elections, ground transportation was out of the question, so we traveled to shows by Black Hawk helicopter. At $10 million a pop, it's a very expensive taxi. They're great for short trips but anything longer than 30 minutes requires ear plugs, buns of steel and long johns. Black Hawks have a four-man crew: Pilot, copilot and two gunners for whom the windows stay open, giving new meaning to the phrase "freezing your ass off." I'd love to be able to tell my grand children about this trip, but I'm not sure my eggs will ever completely thaw.

A couple of the bases we visited were all male. "It's Raining Men" looped through my mind so often I probably owe royalties. Apparently, we not only have a well-trained military but a good-looking one as well. Selective Service indeed. I love the smell of testosterone in the morning.

I'm always stunned though by how young our soldiers are. We met a baby-faced 17-year-old who should have been playing video games at home, not war games in the desert. I wondered if it was too late to call his Mom and get him grounded. Having acne and an M-16 just feels wrong but on the other hand, who would be intimidated by a fighting force of 50-year-olds? It's not that they're past their prime, they’re just past the point in their lives when they can live on pop tarts and energy drinks without dire digestive consequences. That's not the surge anyone had in mind.

While performing for the troops is a rewarding experience, it's not for everybody. It can be physically and emotionally draining, and requires a great deal of patience and flexibility. Even though my second tour had more amenities than the first, there was still the matter of body armor, helmets, bunk beds, carb heavy food, and sand. The vast amount of the latter was a bit of a shock. Sure, we have beaches in New York but by comparison our sand is more like concrete with low self esteem.

Suffice it to say the desert is no place for neat freaks. My inner Felix Unger was having a nervous breakdown. The soldiers were carrying guns and I wanted to carry a Swiffer. Thank goodness for baby wipes. I doubt I’d do well in the military.

“Where’s your weapon, Soldier?”
“Wrapped in plastic, Sir!”

The military uses a 24-hour-clock:

0900 (oh-nine hundred) hours is 9am.
1200 (twelve hundred) hours is noon.
1300 (thirteen hundred) hours is 1pm.

Math is not my strong suit, consequently I never really knew what time it was. Factor in the challenge of keeping in touch with my family in New York on Eastern Standard Time, and I was constantly adding 12, subtracting eight, and regretting not taking a Quantum Physics class when I had the chance. Where’s Stephen Hawking when you need him?

Many of our shows were at 1900 hours. For military people that’s 7pm. For me, 1900 isn’t a time of day, it’s a year; 2300 means we’re meeting in the future.

And then there are the porta pottys. If you're afflicted with Archie Bunker Syndrome -- you can only go to the bathroom in your own home -- then scratch trekking through the Middle East off your bucket list. In America, the porcelain throne is pretty standard equipment, but in that part of the world you're just as likely to find a hole in the ground. I saw such a hole in the women's bathroom in the Kuwait International Airport and I felt my colon hermetically seal itself.

Thankfully, most of the bases had indoor plumbing but indoor doesn’t mean good. One base had one bathroom for each ... er ... function. There was a Number One Bathroom and a Number Two Bathroom. You had to decide ahead of time what you were going to do and stick to it, no changing your mind at the last minute. Who’s got the kind of gastrointestinal fortitude? Do they teach you that in Basic Training?

America's presence in the Middle East is fraught with tension. Why are we there? When are we leaving? What are we fighting for? Oil, democracy, cultural superiority? Perhaps it all comes down to plumbing. One of the most basic freedoms and pleasures in life is being able to, shall we say, fire at will. When you can’t do that, the terrorists win.

I take pride in knowing that the laughs we brought to the troops helped their hearts, minds and colons.

Leighann Lord is a standup comedian. Check out her other upcoming shows @ www.VeryFunnyLady.com. Join her on FaceBook. Follow her on Twitter.

Who's The Man?

Who's the guy with BlackBerry? None other than Colonel Ed Shock (Air Force)! He’s on the phone making it happen. We couldn't have asked for a better liaison/chaperone. Nice guy, fellow CrackBerry addict and so funny we might have him headline the next tour which will, of course, be called Colonel Shocker and Shockettes.

Leighann Lord is a standup comedian. January 31 - February 9 she'll be performing for the troops in the Middle East through Armed Forces Entertainment. Check out her other upcoming shows @ www.VeryFunnyLady.com. Join her on FaceBook. Follow her on Twitter.

America Runs On Dunkin...

But Baghdad Doesn't

Starbucks and Greenbeen clearly dominate the coffee market here in the Middle East. Dunkin Donuts is non-existent. That's why Mark Riccadona and I, major fans of the Double D, were so geeked when he sniffed out an imported bag at Falcon.

The plan for when I return home: Hug my Husband, pet my Dog, drink some coffee and not necessarily in that order. (Actually, Honey, if you're reading this: Major points if you pick me up from the airport with a Medium, light and sweet, in hand. 'm just saying.)

Leighann Lord is a standup comedian. January 31 - February 9 she'll be performing for the troops in the Middle East through Armed Forces Entertainment. Check out her other upcoming shows @ www.VeryFunnyLady.com. Join her on FaceBook. Follow her on Twitter.