Blogger Bites

This blogger design is really starting to tick me off. I am having trouble posting videos and links and all of the fun internet garbage that I know you have come to expect from me. So I am moving on over to Tumblr. If you have enjoyed these ravings then please come visit me at http://franceshasissues.tumblr.com/ If you have not enjoyed this then let's never speak of it again.

Michele Bachmann Blows Way More Than Carbon Dioxide

So I am through with dating. That's it. Done, over, hasta la vista jack offs. After my most recent evening with a man who, in what I can only assume was a misguided attempt at affection, grabbed my right breast and squeezed it like an air traffic controller palming a stress ball, I have decided to take a much needed break from the dating world. So here I am back to doing what I do best. Complaining. You're welcome.

Tops on my list of complaints this week: Rep Michele Bachmann of Minnesota, or as I like to call her, Lake Wobegon Barbie. Sweet merciful Christ this woman sucks out loud. When Sarah Palin came along I thought that we had reached Defcon 5 on our scale of criminally stupid cheerleaders masquerading as public officials. But Michele Bachmann makes Sarah Palin look like Stephen fucking Hawking. Don't believe me? Check out this little wisdom McNugget that Bachmann recently bestowed upon us:

"Carbon Dioxide is portrayed as harmful. But there isn't even one study that can be produced that shows that Carbon Dioxide is a harmful gas."

I'll give you a moment to let that one seep in. Much in the same way that excess Carbon Dioxide could seep into your bloodstream and kill you. Here's another personal favorite:

"Normalization (of gayness) through desensitization. Very effective way to do this with a bunch of second graders, is take a picture of 'The Lion King' for instance, and a teacher might say, 'Do you know that the music for this movie was written by a gay man?' The message is: I am better at what I do. Because I am gay."

Okay, first off I think it's rude to just out Sir Tim Rice like that. And secondly, for serious? So part of the gay agenda is to convince children that butt sex will make them better musicians? Michele's logic train seems to have stalled while boarding passengers at the station. If gay sex made you better at your chosen profession than Clay Aiken would be the next Sinatra. This woman needs to seriously get a grip. I just pray that when she does it doesn't grab a hold of the American public.

Dating in NYC or It Puts the Lotion in the Basket

I have a great life. I have a beautiful apartment, a blessed career, supportive friends and family, and a dog with the bladder control of an Iron Man triathlete. What I don't have is a good old fashioned boyfriend. You know, the kind that holds your hand during scary movies, and dances with you at your friend's weddings, and makes you chicken soup when you are sick. I haven't had one of those in ages. And the last one that I had was a vegetarian who made me Annie's No Chicken Noodle Soup when I had a cold, which if you ask me is just total fucking bullshit, and quite frankly a warning sign that I should have heeded. But that was ages ago now and lately I am finding dating to be a bit of a chore. And I already have a lot of chores.

The problem is that when you work six days a week in the theatre it's tough to find the time to get the laundry done, let alone embark on a meaningful relationship with another human being. (As a sidebar if anyone wants to swing by Park Slope and drop my laundry off at the Fluff and Fold that would be tremendous.) So I find myself turning where many a jaded time pressed woman in her thirties has turned. I am fully immersed in the world of online dating, and let me tell you kids, it is not a pleasant affair. It's like shopping for a weeks' worth of groceries at the Duane Reade. I am seeking sustenance and all I am finding are Easy Mac and Mini Ritz. And I do mean "Mini" here people. It's not pretty out there.

Now look, I don't mean to imply that I am such a great catch, but I think that I am better than Duane Reade level snack foods. I may not be Whole Foods, but I am at the very least Trader Joe's, maybe even Fairway on my better days. And yet this is what I am being offered in the online world. Allow me to offer you a few choice quotes from some of my more eloquent suitors.

This is from LovePa a charming gentleman from Long Island City who had this to offer:

"About myself ,There lot to say about me but there is never enough to say about your self,but I am a very nice guy,quite I dont know what else say ,may be later on."

Well said LovePa. I think that sums things up nicely for me.

Sometimes I just look at the profile pictures to get a sense of people. Here is one of my recent favorites.Not bad, right? If you look closely you can see the woman he keeps in the pit in his basement reflected in his glasses.

Way up at the top of my enemies list is this 28 year old Rhodes scholar from Jersey City who made his openness and availability abundantly clear when he said,

"i dont discriminate ever anyone n everyone feel free to bother the shit outta me on here.. suckas... omg this shit has spell check? geez."

If only his fellow site members had been so observant. Under the category heading of Favorite Books he has listed "not so much on the readin.." Gee, you don't say.

And thus the journey continues. I will keep on keeping on in the hopes that someday my love will ease my sniffles by bringing me a box of tissues and a bowl of soup. And as God is my witness if there is tempeh in that soup there will be fucking hell to pay.

So That Happened

Hey guys and gals! Remember that time that I made that big to do about relaunching my blog back in 2010? Yeah, me neither. Let's move past that shall we? Here we are half way through 2011 and I have been extremely busy not doing any writing. In the interim I have managed to kill several plants, eat my weight in Trader Joe's Honey Wheat Pretzels, and get myself into a new Broadway show. So you know, I've accomplished at least one more item on my bucket list, plus I got into another Broadway show. It's been a good year.

So here I am happily ensconced in my dressing room at The Music Box Theatre for the next couple of months. It's been lovely up until ten minutes ago when I was bitten in the ovary by a horse. Let me back up. I wandered down the stairs onto 45th street during the intermission to do my nightly wave across the street to Chris Rock. (We have a thing going. In my mind. It's complicated.) So there I am doing my best casual lean against the street lamp when a mounted NYPD officer wanders up with her beautiful brown mare. She ties him to the post next to me. I think nothing of it. That is until the horse casually leans in and takes a bite out of my uterus.

"Excuse me mam! Could you please not touch the horse!"
"Um, I didn't. It just bit me."
"Well can you not STAND there?"
"Uh, I work here. Sorry I..."

At this point I waver as I come to realize the searing pain coursing through my midsection. Naturally she is all apologies and offers to find me first aid.

HA! Just kidding. She basically gives me a look that reads, "Idiot standing in the way of my psychotic horsie's mouth," and then ignores me as she moves on to trading riot stories with her fellow mounted GED candidates.

So that was a whole heap of fun. I stumbled into my stage manager's office and very dramatically retrieved an ice pack for myself from the freezer. I can now cross "Get bitten by horse" off of the bucket list so really that's two whole things that I have accomplished so far this year. All that plus my imaginary relationship with Chris Rock and this might turn out to be my most productive year to date. Doubtless I will be seeing this image in my dreams for the next several weeks. Yeah. Horses are total assholes.

A New Year and a Resolution to Make No Resolutions

I am not doing this again. It is not happening. I absolutely refuse to make another New Year's resolution. Every fucking year I make these inane pledges to myself and every fucking year I bail on them faster than Eddie Murphy bailed on Scary Spice.

Every January 1, I promise to:
A) Lose 10, 20, 147 pounds, (whatever the magic number is that year.)

B) Land that one BIG job. The be-all end-all buy my parents a house in Florida so I can stop visiting them in New Jersey job.

C) Develop a lasting meaningful relationship with Prince Charming, and begin construction on the nursery wing of the castle.
and

D) Thirty minutes of cardio three times a week.

By President's Day it is likely that the neighbors have found me chest deep in bakery boxes with a complexion whiter than Cindy McCain's vagina. It's not a pretty picture folks. And it's not happening this year.

The solution to my no resolution resolution is this. I am going to completely commit myself to what I do best. I am going to make with the funny. Stand-up, blogging, xtranormal movie making, shouting on the subway, I am going to hit the laugh track on all fronts. There are a few of you out there, most of whom are direct blood relations, but a few of you still who have told me time and time again that you like my stuff and that you want to see more of it. Unfortunately these last couple of years I have been really busy smoking weed, consuming carbohydrates and watching Bravo. The Real Housewives franchise alone has been a major commitment of both time and energy. But I digress.

I am putting down the remote and the rolling papers and I am going to focus on me. Me, me, me. It is after all what we artistic types do best. So stay tuned for more humorous observations and witty anecdotes. 2011 is going to rock!

Live Blogging the Oscars 2010

I'm back bitches! Pour yourself something potent and bang a goddamn gong because Frances has finally returned to bring meaning to your shallow hopeless lives. Woohoo! It is SO your lucky day.

Live Blogging the Oscars 2010