I am a huge fan

When going to a job as a corporate employee, just know, that you will be swimming in oceans of cheese. They have corporate 'slogans' and sayings that they will announce the first day you show up. At first, you look at these corporate people and notice they have glassy eyes and corporate wet brain. It's something all corporate people have. They look in to your eyes, short of saying, "Pretend that I don't sound like a complete fucking idiot right now." But to work at the job, you must swim, in the corporate cheese.
At my old job there were billions of gallons of cheese. It was constant. I worked in a grocery store where the big bosses thought they were rock stars. When in reality, they were just old, fat, bald headed, fucks. The grocery store was their life. It was their world. When in reality, they were making someone else a shit load of money. The big bosses would come in with gel in their hair and tell the store boss, with gel in his hair, that we needed to be reminded constantly about the slogans and sayings. If we missed one of the slogans, we would have to say the slogan over the intercom to pump up the other employees. Things like, "If you shuffle your feet, you may miss a greet!" Even typing that made me throw up in my mouth a little.
It's corporate work. There are people in corporate offices, some of them, women, with sensible, pressed outfits and half inch black pumps and they have two looks. Angry and angry. Then there are the corporate men. They also have two looks, the 'I'm fucking the girl in the deli' look. And the 'Jesus is my lord and savior' look. BTW, these two looks are on the same man. When angry and Jesus merge, this is where the ideas come from. Huge corporate buildings filled with people with glassy eyes and starched shirts. They are robots. They back stroke through the cheese and think of ways to make the cheese 'cheesier'. They think of ideas, because they are the idea people, to strip the employee's of their remaining dignity. 'What if we say that if they miss a greet that they will have to wear something like a party hat, but instead of it being a party hat, it could be a enormous engorged penis, standing straight up on the top of their heads? Yes. Someone send a fax."
The one thing for sure is that even with all the above, there is no shame in swimming in the cheese to buy cheese. But the moment the slogans begin to make sense, get out. That doesn't mean the next place you go there won't be more cheese to swim in, but possibly a better cheese. Like mozzarella, or feta. You'll be floating in your new cheese and you'll look up and there will be a new group of fat, fuck, wet brain bosses and you'll realize in corporate life, there is no escape.
There are rules in life, at home, at work. We are suppose to follow these rules. But when you leave your job, your anus shouldn't hurt. Unless your job involves some sort of study on anus pain. (I wonder what that pays?)
I am currently swimming in Hollywood cheese. The thing that sucks about Hollywood cheese is the leaders of the cheese smile and talk real kind. They also have slogans like, "I love your work, really." Or, "I am a huge fan." Then they do a line of coke off their Coach wallet. The softness in their voice, before the coke, makes you really think, "Wow. This could be really great!" They smile at you with their insane white teeth and then they begin to swirl their head around, "Who do I have to fuck to get a drink around here!" Then, as you're driving home without any warning, your anus begins to hurt.
I swam in the corporate cheese for entirely too long so now my tolerance for the Hollywood cheese is nonexistent. I am almost 50 and the best I can do is float on a hardened cheese like Velveeta.
If you are young, or even younger, if there is something you want to do in your life, do it. No matter what bullshit people tell you, there is a REAL window in life. The window where you make something happen or you don't. When you hear of people who did great things when they were 50 or 60, it's like five people. I'm not even kidding. Five fucking people succeeded at some great thing, and then they dropped dead. I waited and it may turn out to be one of my biggest regrets. We all say, oh, there's time, I'll work on it tomorrow, I'll get to it. I promise you that TOMORROW you will wake up and be 50 and you will know you missed the window. You not only missed the window, there is no window and there is a giant swamp cooler shoved in there as you fan yourself with a piece of paper, saying, "Sweet baby Jesus! It's a hot one today!"
I believe in people. I believe people can do great things. But to be great, you have to actually DO something great. You have to do it. Talking about it doesn't make it happen. I get messages or emails from people who say they're going to write a book. They tell me about the book and you know what I say? "I love your work, really. I'm a fan." And I'm not even a cheese leader! This is a sad world.

Matthew Austin Lennon

When you had a baby, did you really have any idea what you were doing? It's sort of a thing you have to jump in to and learn as you go.
I had my first baby when I had just turned 18 so let's just say, I had a lot of shit figured out. I read a pamphlet in the doctors office and it was filled with helpful 'mommy tips'. I read it, didn't even take the pamphlet with me, just read it in the office. I say that because if I would have at least taken the literature with me I could have referred to it when I ran in to a situation.
The first situation came when I got my baby home to my parents house. What do you do with the baby? So, I showed her around the house, "This is the living room. This is the kitchen. Out that window there is a cow."
When I had my first daughter, my baby's daddy's mom, Nana, said that if I pulled the bottle straight out of her mouth and she made that suction noise, that could collapse her soft spot and suck it right in to her head. So the proper way was to lean the bottle out sideways until she stopped sucking the bottle. The fact is, I never believed that to be true because if it were, where are the people that this happened to? I have never seen a person with the top of their heads completely dented in like a meteor crater. I have never said to someone, "What happened to the top of your head? Oh. Collapsed soft spot. Your mom didn't know? So sad."
So if me and Nana were having a disagreement about something and she would be saying something to me that I didn't like, while I'm feeding my baby her bottle, I would look right at her and intentionally pull the bottle straight out of the baby's mouth. It would make this loud 'THUP'. Nana would immediately react, "Oh my god! No! The soft spot!! You could kill the baby!" For the record, I loved Nana. She was amazing to me and my daughters and I think we may have had a total of two disagreements in the many years we knew one another. There may have been more, but everyone knows that you don't argue with Nana. I think that is a worldwide 'Nana' deal. To argue with a Nana is a loose, loose. 'Grandma', you may get away with some shit. 'Nana'? You'll start confessing shit from six years ago.
These days young parents are just crazy. My oldest daughter, the one that I used for the soft spot bit with Nana, she is going to have a baby in the next week or so. (Her head is completely round, by the way.) She's putting the headset on the belly with music for the unborn baby. Reading to the belly. Singing to the belly. Are you kidding with me? You are going to be a parent for the rest of your life! Take this time to just let the belly do it's own thing.
The hospital room where my grandson will be born is called a 'family room'. That means that your entire family can come and have the baby with you. Beds, accommodations, I think they may serve drinks or opiates. And this is for however many people you want? When I had my daughters, I was in a delivery room that the hospital also used to deliver office supplies. I'm having a baby and they are rolling boxes up a loading dock and chatting, "Hey Bob! Did you ever get that tranny replaced? Can you sign for this?" The doctor puts down the jaws of life he's using to pull the baby out with. He's signing the paper, "I just don't know if it's worth it to put a new one in that old truck." Hey! Medicine man! Focus!
My daughter has the best health insurance in the country. I was, there is no other way to say it, a welfare mom. When you have a baby on the state money, they cut out all the frills. Like water. And air. They deliver the baby, spray the baby off, hand it to you and say, "You are free to go. Good luck with that." They may cut the cord, they may not. You may be able to pull the baby around Wal Mart by their cord for as long as need be. I mean, yeah I get it. I actually didn't expect more. But now that I see how it is when normal people have a baby, wow! It really is a beautiful day! I'll have a sandwich and an Ambien!
What I find is that every single parent has some sort of terrifying tip for you. "Make sure you burp her or the gass will build up and her liver could explode. That happened to a friends baby."
Everyone has something. Too many blankets may kill the baby. Not enough blankets, bye-bye baby. Cold formula has bacteria. Sianara' baby. Hot formula? You can have more children. Holding the baby wrong could kill the baby. The fabric of the babies clothing could be a silent killer. Dog hair, silent killer. Lead base paint? It could not only kill the baby, it could kill every single person in the house and possibly a couple of neighbors. Also, a silent killer. Adios' bambino. And why? It's because of that total fucking I don't give a shit attitude that parents have. (That last line was a joke and I wish I didn't have to include this information but sometimes people take me seriously and I have no idea how to process that in my brain.)
This is what I know for sure. If the baby is crying, pick up the baby. I know that you can hug and kiss a baby as much as you want. They are helpless to stop you. Do it now because when they are about seven, that crap will stop especially with little boys. Hugs and kisses interfere with their activities. When you tell them you love them and they are only one week old, they know what that means. When a small baby smiles at you, thats the first way they express that they love you. When they spit up on your clothes, your couch, your bed, whatever. It's what they do. When they do not want you to sleep, you are not going to sleep. They come in to the world and it is their world. As it should be. The best case scenario is that when a baby gets here, he or she has a circle of people waiting for them and already loving them before they even get here. Isn't it grand to be a baby? Having a baby around just makes everything better. It's like having a flat screen TV or an IPAD. I am very excited to meet my grandson Matthew Austin Lennon. The thing is that it is hard to be a parent and we all do the best we can. It's like the old saying about parenting. "Don't let the time do you. You do the time."

Christmas

This is the conversation I just heard from the neighbor children in reference to the Christmas lights on the houses.
Sister, about 5 years old. "Oh, look! The entire community is all lit up!"
Brother, about 6 years old. "It's not called a community. It's called a neighborhood."
Sister, "So what."
Brother, "Remember! We did this last year and it really works!"
Then the brother, for whatever reason looks up at the lights on his house, cups his hands over his mouth and says, "Echo! Echo! Echo!"
Sister does the same thing, "Echo! Echo! Echo!"
Remember being little and waiting for Christmas and how it was the most exciting thing ever! My parents had this Ceramic Nativity scene. It was small. But the thing that made it an insane mystery was that the little wooden crib was empty. Then on Christmas morning, the baby Jesus would appear laying in the crib! You know, because Jesus wasn't born until Christmas morning? I remember coming around the corner and there was Jesus! And where there was Jesus, there was presents!
On my research for this investigative journalistic piece of work, I asked my mom, "Where did you guys keep the ceramic baby Jesus until Christmas morning?" After about 15 minutes of mumbling, "It seems like we didn't have a very good system on that. We put Jesus in different spots. Some years, we would have to look for him because we couldn't remember where we put him."
At some point, the baby Jesus's head was busted off because of what my parents called our 'rough-housing'. Several ceramic icons were injured, but not to the level of the baby Jesus. The head was glued back on but the baby Jesus just didn't look right.
I remember another Christmas where we were doing the Christmas pageant. You know, with all the biblical celebrities. Mary, Joesph, the wise men, Jesus. I was so excited about my part. It wasn't a speaking part. And if my memory serves me, it was the only non speaking part, but it was a very powerful moment and I was going to deliver it with such depth that the audience would gasp at the emotion I brought to the character. I believe the actual character was written on the script as 'Walking Child'. I had practiced ahead of time for weeks. All I had to do was carry a 'challis', that had pretend wine in it, down the center isle of the church and set it on the alter. Then walk back. That was my part. That was what I practiced. I still have no clue what part the glass of Chard had to do with the birth of Jesus but I was just honored to be involved.
Right before I am going to rock their world, my nose begins to bleed. Then I faint. The Priest, an amazing man, Fr. Gene was looking over me fanning me with something. Turns out I didn't have an understudy for that role. They grab some kid wearing a vest and shiny black shoes out of the audience and say, "Take this and set it on the alter." The rage made my nose bleed more that this fucking amateur random kid was stealing, let's face it. The role of a lifetime. It was complete bullshit. Not just anyone could be 'Walking Child'. It was a role not unlike that of Meryl Streep in Sofie's Choice except we were not in Germany and there was less bombing in the background.
The main thing I remember about Christmas when I was a kid was, well, the utter disappointment. Sorry mom and dad! But the only time you really got in the game was the year you bought us bikes? And the other year that you got the boys chemistry sets. One year I got an easy bake oven. That was the year I realized that nothing in my life was going to work out. The easy bake oven came with ONE cake mix. And they didn't sell them. So you bake one little cake? It's over. The toy is not only no longer fun, there is no function for it. I tried to make it in to a Barbie house, which is what I actually wanted. I would pretend it was their hotel. I'd lay them on the racks. Then take them off the racks. That was it. I took the actual rack out and then the Barbies could sit in there like they were on a bus trip or something. You know it takes three minutes to eat your little cake the size of a bisket, then you realize you were completely screwed by Fisher Price. I spent the day mumbling, "Bullshit." My brothers thought this was hysterical, "Hey, Dina! When will the cake be ready!" Me, "Fuck off." I was ten.
But what was the real idea of Christmas? That little baby Jesus. In the manger. Surrounded by the wise men, one of which had an arm broken off and the sheep with one ear. With Mary and Joesph in all their glory looking down at the baby Jesus. And the baby Jesus looking at them. With white glue on his throat and his head cocked to one side. That's what it's all about. The birth of Jesus at a Marriott in Dubai. I haven't read the bible in a while so I could be improvising that last part. But it's the traditions that create the love at Christmas. For me, it was that Nativity scene. For my kids, it's the Coach purse. We all have something that makes the holiday magic. For some kids, it's standing in the front yard and saying, "Echo! Echo! Echo!" I hope they heard some sort of echo. I wonder if when they grow up they will take their children out to the front yard and teach them to echo. I think it's a really nice idea:)

The people on the shore line

We are drowning. I am drowning with you. To show you how much I love you. I love you so much I will gasp for air with you. Because that's how much I love you.But there are others... on the shore line. Waiting for me to get their lunch. A nine year old little boy that wants to ride bikes and laugh. He can eat a whole pizza by himself but he likes to share with me. He smiles.I can feel your hand slipping, away, and away. My heart is in a million pieces. I think it may be selfish to save myself. You may think I didn't love you. I can feel your finger tip and the water moving us further apart. We are suffocating. Together. Because that's how much I love you. Do I love you so much that if you continued to fall, I would fall too?Little boys always want the bike to go faster. Faster and faster. I tell him to be careful. He ignores me smiling. I kiss him. I love him too.I am drowning. For me to come up and out of the water, I have to let you go. I have to let go of your sweet hand. I need a breath. One big breath. I can see the sun shining on the top of the water and it calls me.The people on the shore call me. They want ice cream because that's a thing that people want. Nothing more. Nothing less. It's a simple choice. Chocolate.I just want you to know that drowning with you serves no point. It won't fix it. It won't fix you.So I will ride the bike and laugh and look at the water and waves and turn away. Because that's what we do after we almost drown.... turn away. And with that we have saved ourselves. But wow, I love you. I really, really love you. I'm sorry.

Uncle Cecil

My Uncle Cecil and Aunt Sherry have been married for oh, 100 years or something. They have always fit one another so perfectly and they have had a lifetime of laughter. I am a comic and I have seen EVERYBODY. (I'm a pretty big deal) There is not one person alive that is as funny as my Uncle Cecil. Aunt Sherry has been his audience all these years and is his biggest fan. At any gathering, Aunt Sherry would say to Uncle Cecil, "Tell that one story..." He would tell it and she would laugh as if it was the first time she heard it with tears rolling down her face.
Growing up all the family holidays were held at my grandparents house. No one missed it. My Uncle Cecil and Uncle Dean would go back and forth telling stories and acting out events for the entire day. They were so, so funny that half the time we would be falling on the floor holding our stomachs and hurting from the laughter. They went on and on. I know they had challenges in their lives and things that had broken their hearts. But for those days, they had a captive audience and we could not get enough. Of the thousands of comedy shows I've seen, I have still never laughed as hard as I did during the Cecil and Dean Show. And the fact that they could go on for five or six hours of non stop halarity, was amazing. And this was EVERY gathering, they were on fire. As a comic I have thought hundreds of times about a story that Uncle Cecil told and think, why couldn't I do it? Uncle Cecil has a certain thing. His body language, his facial expressions, his timing and just the way he talks. He is the only person that can do him. The thing that is clear in my head is that Aunt Sherry continued to laugh. Now, for the married people, okay, he says the funny thing, but that's it. You don't want to hear that thing again. It doesn't matter how funny it is. How many times has a married person said, "Hey, tell that one story..." Most people I know are saying to their spouses, "Jesus, don't tell that story again. You're killing me with the stories." But Aunt Sherry would give him her complete attention and he would act the whole thing out and tell the story as she laughed holding her stomach and laughing as if it wasn't the fiftyith time she's heard it.
Uncle Cecil loves Aunt Sherry so much that he has spent his entire life making her laugh. And Aunt Sherry has spent her life laughing. I can't think of a better way to spend a life. How often do you hear of two people like that? Married people. Not often. If you have spent your life making the girl of your dreams laugh, you did good. Really, really good.

What it feels like... from my book Everything I Never Wanted To Be

This is what it feels like. You are in second grade. You do alright with your grades, your classmates. At home your parents think you are the most beautiful person alive. You are a second grader that someone would glance at and think, 'Cute little girl'. But, something is wrong. You're little so you don't understand. But you can feel that you are not like the other kids. They like you, but you secretly don't know why. Everyone around you acts like you blend, so you try to blend.
You grow older, and still, you just don't quite fit. You don't get it. You don't feel connected to other people. But you play along. You're in High School and you really can't let anyone know you feel this way. You never feel comfortable. Some days your skin crawls. You're nervous. You feel moments of panic like you are gasping for air. But no one can know because you're still blending. You look around and wonder what the secret is. Why am I just never quite good enough? You have to act normal and be the person people think you are. Not this shaking, frightened teenager. What it feels like is the feeling you get when you are under water. You know that little bit of panic right before your head surfaces? You walk through your school, or your home, or the mall and you feel different, and not in a good way. You can feel the pressure on your skin. And you have to get out. Because you're suffocating and not one person has a clue. You're hanging out with friends and someone has something, a drink or a drug. You give it a try for the first time. You will never be able to take this back.
You can feel your body coming up out of the water and you take a huge breath of air. You can feel the rush of relief. You can feel the warm sun on your face. You want to stretch your arms out and scream because you're not dead after all. For the first time in your life, you can breath. And it is fucking amazing after an entire life of suffocating. You suddenly, for the first time in your life, feel... like other people. You can breath. You are not just you, you are more you than you've ever been. You don't feel high, you feel like everyone else. Your skin stops crawling. You're not in complete panic. You are for the first time in your life.....alive and safe and calm.
The fact is that people who are not addicts do not have this reaction to drugs or alcohol. Normal people have a few drinks and feel a little floaty and think, that was fun. Or take a pill for an injury, (I know, but this is why normal people take pills) and you feel kind of happy and silly. An addict or alcoholic's brain chemistry reacts completely different. A drug or a drink is a life changer. You have saved your own life. It's an awakening from a life spent in loneliness and fear. And once you've surfaced, above the water, your brain will never let you forget it. From that moment on your brain says... get it, get it, get it, get more, get more, and it never quiets. It is relentless. It is bigger than you. It's so loud it's deafening. To tell an addict or alcoholic to stop is the equivalent to saying, "Go back under the water."
Making the choice to go back under the water is an impossible option. An addict will do the most horrifying, demoralising, immoral act to avoid going back under the water where they will no doubt die.
So what do we do? We must learn to live above the water without the drugs and booze. To feel the sun, and stretch our arms out and embrace and love life. We don't have to go back under the water... but we must find that tiny flame that burns in all of us and help it grow until that fire is so big, the stalking voice in our head, shuts the fuck up. Until then, you must protect that tiny flame because at the end of the day, it will be the only thing to build a new life on. And because we don't quite fit in our skin, it's like holding a candle in the wind. The fact is that I am still struggling. I had six years in sobriety. Then one day I didn't anymore. One day, I too, will accept that big breath of air...I will choose life. One day I'm under the water and the next, looking for something to pull me out. I can't self destruct to such a level that the little flame blows out. I can still feel the little flame in my heart, but I'm cupping with my hands with my back to the wind.
It's a life time deal, if I'm lucky, which most people aren't, I will be around to not only come out of the water without help and feed my fire, I will feel peace. I will also be laying on a raft with little pieces of gauze between my toes and be tan like the Kardashians.

Lemon Tree... from my book Everything I Never Wanted To Be

I have been phobic as far back as I can remember. You know that cartoon where the 'coyote' is standing on top of a speeding train and the train goes in to a tunnel? Then the coyote's outline is smashed in to the concrete arch above the tunnel? As a child I would wonder, what if I am standing on a train and I don't duck fast enough to go through the tunnel? This was actually possible in my head.
I'm afraid of everything. I trace it back to the second grade.
My second grade class went on a field trip. We were all sitting on the grass in a big circle, somewhere, drinking lemonade. I took a big gulp from my straw and I swallowed two or three seeds. I thought this was very interesting and said the the little girl sitting next to me, "I just swallowed some lemon seeds." She looked at me straight faced and said, "You're going to grow a lemon tree in your belly." I looked dead in her eyes and said, "So." Then I turned around and began to completely panic. I thought, oh my god! A lemon tree in my belly! Help! Someone help me!

I spent the rest of the field trip imagining the process of the lemon tree that was now growing in my belly. How fast will this tree grow? Will the branches poke out of my skin? Could I trim the branches so I could wear regular clothes and continue going to a regular school? Would the lemons be edible? Would my parents be embarrassed by my condition, yet, pleased because my lemons are so tasty?
When I got home from the field trip I went immediately to my mother to tell her the news. I was in complete panic. I run through the screen door and go to my mother grabbing her shirt. I look up at her and say, "I swallowed some lemon seeds." She continued doing whatever she was doing.

I am now desperate, "Mom! I swallowed some lemon seeds! A girl said that I am going to grow a lemon tree in my belly!"
In my entire life there has been one time I needed my mother to be sure of something and this was the time. I needed her to be firm and confident and absolute. She looks down at me with a smile and says, "Oooh. I don't think so, honey."
I don't 'think' so? Good god in heaven, I'm might be growing a lemon tree in my belly. You don't 'think' so, but you can't be sure? I sort of need you to be sure about this. I needed something to the effect of, "That is the silliest thing I have ever heard! Of course you will not grow a lemon tree in your belly!" But, no. She didn't 'think' it would happen, which of course means, you may be growing a lemon tree in your belly.

I lay flat on my bed with my hand on my stomach waiting for some activity. Some movement. Something. The scent of lemons. Something.
Weeks went by and there were no indications of any foliage growing in my stomach. But for months, any stomach ache was clearly from the lemon tree.
The rest of the second grade I avoided the girl that informed me of the lemon tree in my belly. I felt she knew something the others didn't. Some sort of Voo Doo. Any interaction with her would only bring bad news.
By the third grade I began to believe I had food poisoning from dented cans. And off I went from there. Fear of flying. Fear of driving. Fear of all sorts of things. But it all started with the lemon tree.

My favorite drink in the world is the Lemon Lime Slush from Sonic. I drink one everyday and most days I swallow a few seeds. I feel no fear. I only enjoy the deliciousness of my beautiful drink. Until it dawns on me that one of the workers could be disgruntled and may have put poison in my slush. Or my car could suddenly ignite in to flames. Or I could be car jacked. I'm having chest pains. Great. This is just great.