Manic Punday or A Night at The Improv

I made my stand-up debut at The Improv in Washington, DC last week. Here's an excerpt from the routine, minus the ad libs. Video will be posted within a week.

There are two things you should know about me. One, I’m a travel writer and two, I have a pun fetish. I will consider this night a raging success even if I don’t get a single laugh....as long as I hear a lot of moaning and groaning. I love getting moans and groans while indulging fetishes.

Actually, last year, these two things came together when I did a story on the National Pun Festival in Austin. As part of the deal, I performed a two-minute riff complete puns about Russia and the Soviet Union. I PUTIN a good enough routine to finish Top 10. But my performance needed work. So, I decided to go to comedy school.

Anyway, people are fascinated by the fact that I am a travel writer. Everyone thinks I lead such a glamorous life....that I jet set around the world with a man in every port and a personal porter to carry my Louis Vuitton luggage. And sometimes, I do live the lifestyle of the rich and famous. But the fact is I am poor and unknown, and you’ll usually find me schlepping my own bags.

But the stereotype persists. And I blame those middle-aged white women who write those memoirs--you know the formula-- woman has a mid-life crisis, she throws caution to the wind and heads abroad. She goes eating, loving and preying on unsuspecting men around the world. She goes to Italy and buys a house under the Tuscan sun. And it goes without fail that a hunky man with washboard abs is involved, they live happily ever after, the end.

My stories don’t work that way, people. I go to Italy--my book title is Under the Tuscan Sunstroke.

I could write 50 Shades of Earl Grey, but that would be ..

a tease.

The chronicle of my travels to the developing world would inevitably be dubbed Bridget Jones' Diarrhea. Yeah, I think that would be pretty explosive.

But I won’t run on about that.

The point is, everyone says I should write a book. But my adventures really don’t have a common theme. It would be great if I were one of those women who have sex around the world.

Then, I could dub my book, The Vagina Travelogues. But I won’t beat around the bush. When it comes to what’s going on down here, I just don’t have loose lips.

Then there are those intrepid travel writers who climb Kilimanjaro or trek across Antarctica. That's not my thing. I mean, if I were to write a book about my exploits, it would have to called Adventure Travel for Weenies.

That said, I am not a total wimp. I traveled the world alone. I ridden horses in Montana; elephants in Thailand and camels in the Outback of Australia. I guess you can say I’ve experienced camel tow down under. One more--due to the heat, my camel and I had to stop for a Blizzard at the Dromedary Queen.

Maybe instead of writing a book, I should put together a mix tape of my travels.

This is the part where I do an audience sing-along. Fortunately, the audience came through.
Then I do a few more Russian puns and it's "thank you and good nyet."

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The Soundtrack of My Travels

Have you ever had an ear worm? You know the phenomenon. An ear worm is when you can't get a song out of your head. It plays incessantly in there, like a broken record.

I am most often plagued by ear worms when I travel. And it's no surprise.  According to one Dr. Vicky Williamson, a music psychologist at the University of London, ear worms are most likely to develop in moments of stress or at times when your mind has the freedom to wander. Both are common states-of-mind when away from home.

Thus, when I take a trip on the Trans-Siberian Express, I can't get Back in the U.S.S.R. out of my noggin. Every time I go to Phoenix, Arizona (all the way from Tacoma), Steve Miller Band's  Keep on Rockin' Me, Baby keeps knockin' around my head. And don't even get me started on Maria Muldaur's Midnight at the Oasis, which for decades has been triggered in my mind by the sight of camels and/or visits to the Middle East. For years, I thought the lyrics of said song started like this:

Midnight at the Oasis
Take Your Camel to Bed...
And I would sing this aloud in Jordan or Israel and people would look at me funny.  Take your camel to bed?  What kind of freak is this Maria Muldaur? Heck, no wonder they were looking at me funny.  I had to Google the lyrics.

Midnight at the oasis
Send your camel to bed (editor's note--oh). Shadows painting our faces.Traces of romance in our heads.

You don't have to answer. There's no need to speak.  I'll be your belly dancer, prancer And you can be my sheik

[Instrumental Interlude]

I know your Daddy's a sultan, A nomad known to allW. With 50 girls to attend him, they all send him....
Jump at his beck and call

But you won't need no harem, honey
When I'm by your side
And you won't need no camel, no no....When I take you for a ride

Come on, Cactus is our friend. He'll point out the way
Come on, 'til the evenin' ends, 'til the evening ends.

Tsk, tsk--dirty lyrics, Maria Muldaur.

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Anyway,  according to an article in The Guardian U.K, I did the right thing. I went to Google; I looked up the lyrics: I got closure and washed that ear worm right out of my hair. According to Dr. Ira Hyman, an expert in the study of ear worms (he wanted to be a gynecologist, but he didn't put enough time in the labia), "Choruses tend to get stuck in your head because they are the bit we know best. Because we don't know verses, the song remains unfinished. Unfinished thoughts are more likely to return." Finish the thought and ear worm be gone.

Dr. Hyman, who works at Western Washington University, also suggests we can dig ear worms out of our heads by distracting ourselves. Read a book. Not this one. though. Put together a piece of IKEA furniture. Or bake a cake. Of course, the latter remedy comes with its own ear worm side effects.

MacArthur's Park is melting in the dark

All the sweet, green icing flowing down
Someone left the cake out in the rain
I don't think that I can take it
'Cause it took so long to bake it
And I'll never have that recipe again
Oh, no!

Would love to know what ear worms enter your head when you are on the go. Please write in.

Just for Laughs: 9 Things to Know About Stand-Up Comedy

I always enjoy expanding my horizons. Usually, I do so by traveling the world. But when I am at home, I take classes. Last year, it was Russian. This spring, it was Italian. This summer, it's stand-up comedy.

Now, anyone who has read my stories about the naked German spa or has savored my punditry or has put up with my on-the-spot quips knows I have a sense of humor, however warped it may be. I can converse funny. I can write funny. I can quip funny. But performing funny--that, my friends, is a whole other ball of wax.

As I take classes at The Improv in DC, here are some lessons I am learning.

1. Set a premise. As you begin a routine, you have to let the audience know your persona. You're the neurotic Jewish girl. You're the woeful putz. You're the put-upon dad. The audience needs to know who you are up front to get the joke.

2. Believe the audience wants to like you.

3. Take a breath before you start. It will calm and compose you (supposedly).

4. Take liberties with the truth. To wit, when relating a real story, always attribute the funny line to yourself....even if someone else said it. There are no fact checkers in comedy.

5. Take it to the crazy. Find veins of humor in situations and explore them to the extreme.

6. Cut the crap. Delete extraneous exposition.

7- Use the Rhythm Method. Alternate between long and slow and slam, bam, thank you ma'am.

8. Beware of jokes based on news events. Sometimes, it's too soon to joke, and sometimes, the joke's already outdated..

9. Don't give the audience a chance to heckle you. Beware of asking the crowd questions, or pausing too long between thoughts.

If you are interested in how well I learn my lessons, please come to The Improv on August 7. But you are only invited if you promise to laugh with me, not at me.

Thank you and good night.

Fairmontopoly

Regular readers know about my fixation with collecting Monopoly games. I am very particular about the collection--no City-opolies, no Sports Team-opilies, etc. My prized collection consists of more than two dozen games acquired in countries to which I have traveled (and a couple--well-appreciated gifts--from countries to which I have not been).

If you want to read more about the obsession, just type Monopoly in search. But this post is about a deviant. You see, my most recent frame up is an anomalous Monopoly celebrating the centennial of Fairmont Hotels & Resorts (I should note that it was acquired a few years ago, so Fairmont is an even older dowager now). Despite its corporate origins, I consider it a worthy companion to my collection. Why? Because this Monopoly showcases a panoply of incredible inns in places ranging from Dubai to Monte Carlo.

Given the company's Canadian roots (Canadian Pacific Hotels merged with Fairmont in 1999), six featured properties are from the Great White North. That said, Canadian modesty being what is it, the prime Park Place and Boardwalk spots are occupied by The Savoy/London and The Fairmont San Francisco, respectively.

What I find particularly charming about the board is its oh-so-twee pewter tokens. No dogs or thimbles here....although an iron would have been appropriate. But no iron, either. Instead, you can be a doorman, a pair of slippers, a bed, a key, a steamer trunk, or a tea cup.

The game is quite politically correct. No electric company or water works for the environmentally-conscious hotel company. Instead, you can invest in Wind Power Farms and a Recycling Center. And instead of income tax, your Monopoly money goes toward Community Investment. Very nice.

If you look closely at the picture above, you'll see that railroad stations are replaced by resort activities like golfing, spa-ing, skiing and boating. This doesn't really make sense. After all, you can't buy skiing or golf (well, maybe Donald Trump can, but that's a Monopoly board I do not covet in the least). Chance and Community Chest have become History and 21st Century. However, I discovered that some of the 21st Century cards should have been labeled History and vice versa. Quibbles, quibbles.

I should mind my Ps & Qs, though, considering this was a gift. But one more minor beef. As you might expect, the hotels are still hotels, although they are gold. But what the instructions call "suites" look like little black houses. I would have preferred colorful cabanas, but no dice.
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Of Monopoly Mania and Mongolia

Devoted readers know about my obsession with collecting Monopoly games around the world. If you need to catch up on my fetish, proceed directly to GO, or if you like, let's hang out in free parking. For those who prefer the Cliff Notes version, my one and only must-buy when abroad is Monopoly. I don't particularly like playing the game, but over the years, I have purchased about 40 boards and have framed about 30 of them. My most recent purchases took place in the Baltics, where I scurried to find a Lithuanian version in Vilnius and picked up two-for-the-price-of-two in Estonia (both the Estonian edition--right--and the Russian release--and please note the awesome alliteration in that run-on sentence).

Thus I am sad to report that my most recent trip--to China, Mongolia, and Russia--yielded no boards. Of course, as noted above, I bought the Russian rendition in Estonia, so there was no need to repeat. To pay homage, however, I did actually find the game in TSUM, the lesser-known version of GUM. Both were stolid department stores back in Soviet days, best known for empty shelves, long lines, and surly service. Now, they are very fancy. TSUM's tiny toy department was located downstairs adjacent to the food hall, into which I had run in search of a piece of fruit. Anyway, because I actually saw the game in Moscow, according to my rules (which require that I have actually been in-country---although truth be told, I gladly accept presents from all countries), I can consider my Russian board authentic, even if bought in Tallinn.

China, of course, still being officially Communist (though you'd be hard-pressed to tell if you were a visitor from Mars), does not condone the homage to capitalism that is Monopoly. There is a Chinese version sold in Taiwan, and I imagine that if one looks hard enough, one can find an underground game in China. But I was too busy playing Operation in Beijing to take time to look. And truth be told, it likely would have been time wasted (like my day of searching in Bangkok, as outlined in the first-paragraph links).

But Mongolia, ah Mongolia. This is truly a sad story. Now, I would never have expected to find a Monopoly game in the remote, formerly Communist country of Mongolia. And given that just two days would be spent there during my Trans-Siberian trip, I noted in advance it would be unlikely that there would be time for a search. My actual journey to Mongolia, moreover, was further shortened by my adventures in Chinese medicine (again, test link in previous paragraph). I ended up spending just one day there.

Most of that day was spent at a lovely national park two hours from Ulan Bator. When we got back to the city around 6:30, our guide suggested a cashmere stop. Apparently, the day before, while I was laid up in my hotel room in Beijing, the entire group had been given a choice between shopping at a department store or shopping for cashmere. The majority opted for the department store, so the wool buyers amongst us were left feeling sheepish. Anyway, the cashmere shop was very close to our dinner site, so many were bullish on the detour and rammed into the store.

It was at that point that a fellow American traveler asked me if I was going to buy anything. I said no, that the only thing I buy overseas is Monopoly. And then she shrieked the words I still rue, "When we were at the department store yesterday, I saw a Monopoly game front and center and thought it interesting."

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT? Not only was there a Mongolian version of Monopoly, but had I been with the group, I would have stumbled upon it with no effort. Imagine the joy that would have instilled in me. Instead, I was deflated, but defiant. Maybe I could get to that Monopoly game before leaving Mongolia. Alas, I was told that, given the horrible traffic in Ulan Bator and the time of day...or rather, the time of night...the store would likely be closed by the time I got there. I believe, in retrospect, this was actually a clandestine attempt to keep me with the group--and since I was still feeling the after-effects of my heat exhaustion, I wasn't exactly in condition to argue. And so, no Monopoly from Mongolia. I was morose.

Now, you should know that aside from my compulsion to buy Monopoly, I also tend to obsess about stupid things (TMI about OCD?). At any rate, for days after, I was repeatedly thinking how cool that game would have been--a board from a former Communist country, from one of the most remote places in the world, and in Cyrillic to boot. I wondered how much the board cost--they usually retail around $40, although I have purchased a game for as little as $1 (Poland) and as much as $70 (Sweden). I wondered what the board looked like. I wondered if the board featured Ulan Bator exclusively, or, like my Canadian and Austrian versions, showcased cities around the country.

Of course, I'm over it now (as you can tell from this extended blog post). I realize I now have two options. I must go back to Mongolia. I actually would really like to do so, perhaps to stay in a yurt or to check out the famous Naadam Festival--although that is in the summer, so given my heat sensitivity, maybe another time would be better.

 If I don't get back there soon, though, dear readers, it is up to you for relieve my pangs of regret. If by chance you are in Mongolia, go directly to the damn department store and please buy me my game. I will, of course, reimburse you for the cost of the game and for transportation. Let me clarify that, though--I will cover your cab from your hotel in Ulan Bator to the store. I khannot pay for airfare to Mongolia. I am not, after all, Mr. Moneybags.

God Bless Bieber, God Save the Queen, and God Knows What Else is in SkyMall

This post was originally conceived as a piece about helpful items to bring on a two-week TransSiberian Express adventure. However, a change of itinerary left me merely armchairing SkyMall on a plane rather than giving berth to an article on train travel.

Having never read SkyMall cover to cover, I took the opportunity to do so on a flight from Washington, DC to San Francisco. Below are some of the items that intrigued me, amused me, or otherwise unhinged me.

Let’s start with the erudite. I never mind a little in-flight education, unless it comes via a boring seatmate. The best way to learn and to shut out said space interloper at the same time is to throw on some earphones and listen to your lovely Complete Works of Beethoven, only $169.00 on SkyMall.  Or opt to learn a language via Rosetta Stone. Courses cost between $179.99 and $499.99 and they include an app for that.

All images from SkyMall Catalog

If your body is aching in flight, as mine was, the appeal of the SomaWave Helmut ($79.99, batteries not included) beckons. Sure, you’ll look like a space alien or an escapee from an insane asylum as you don the metal cap.  But the catalog copy insists it’s “like having thousands of tiny fingers stimulate your scalp“ and  its "euphoria-inducing waves may produce sleep or a trance-like state of consciousness."  If it sounds too good to be true, note that the product reviews tell potential purchasers to wave bye-bye to this flight of fancy.

A little less high-tech is the ReLeaf Neck Nest ($19.99). You’ll look like a stylin’ Catholic priest wearing a black dickey highlighted with royal blue. Unlike U-shaped pillows that plop your head forward, this clerical collar keeps you on the straight and narrow. And you can fold it up and throw it in your carry-on.

Now, if a long plane flight has your spirits down, SkyMall believes there might be some magic in star power. Take, for example, Justin Bieber Singing Toothbrushes. You have two choices. One plays Baby and (appropriately) U Smile, while the other plays Somebody to Love and Love Me. Each tune lasts two minutes, which is optimal brushing time, according to nine out of ten Canadian dentists. Vibrating brushes range in price from $14.99 to $27.99, although you can also buy a mute manual Bieber brush for the bargain bounty of $2.99. And just in time for food stuck between teeth--mint-flavor Bieber floss ($2.99).
Loony.

For those with a little more class, how about a Diamond Jubilee Solar-Powered Queen? A solar battery in her purse ensures that familar steady steady wave ($21.95). If you like, you can accessorize the monarch with a solar-powered corgi ($14.95), who will nod his head happily. Prince Philip not included. 

Pun Linguistics Part II: Nine Things I Learned at The O.Henry Pun-Off World Championships

1. The Definition of a Pun 
A pun is the humorous use of a word or words in such a way as to suggest different meanings or applications, or words that have the same or nearly the same sounds, but with different meanings.

2. What is Not a Pun
If you are talking about railroads, “you’re off track” does not give berth to a pun. Why? Because track in the cliché refers to a railroad track. The usage of the word must differ from its original meaning.

3. A Pun Can Include a Set-Up 
To wit, when paired off in Punslingers with the topic of Politics, No Names (seemingly a good category for me until you discover my opponent grew up in DC as part of a politically-connected family and currently serves as a political pundit for a major DC media outlet), I was tapped out after about a dozen rounds. My tendency was to play off specific words/phrases--we’re setting a president here/Do you C-N-N anyone out there? (a holla to my alma mater). On the other hand, my oppunent used a stalling technique to develop a story that led up to a pun-chline.

Had I employed this technique, I might have issued the following in order to stay in the game:
--Remember that character from Cheers who used to sit on his barstool drinking beer all day? Well, I suppose if they call Boston the Red Sox Nation, they could call Cheers the nomination.
BTW, I was DQ’ed when I mentioned that my 80-year-old boyfriend had electoral dysfunction because electoral had already been exercised. Rather anti-climatic.

4. Let’s Keep It Clean, People 
Use of coy double entendres is fine (as in electoral dysfunction above). But anything too blatant is met with derision at the Pun-Off, which, after all, is a family affair.

5. There's No Apologizing in Punditry
In the words of Gary Hallock, punmeister extraordinaire and emcee of the Pun-Off, a lovely pun means never having to say you’re sorry. If you have to apologize for a pun, it probably isn’t worthy. Hallock notes, “When someone adds ‘no pun intended‘ to a quip, I say, ‘none taken’ because it couldn’t have been much of a pun in the first place."

6. Pacing is Primary 
After reading my punditry on the written page after the fact, one judge, while noting its brilliance (!), suggested I simply had too many puns (63) in a 120-secord monologue. As a result, there was no time for the pungent, pregnant pause in the spoken version, quite necessary for a complex pun to sink in.

7. Stick to the Basics
It helps to pun in recognizable English. Riffs on familiar references--like States or Cheese --won the day. My piece was on Russia, or more specifically, the Soviet Union and its empire. Therefore, some puns (Soyuz, Mir-ly) may have been unrecognized or misunderstood, while other wordplay (he was good at his korbut a little off balance, a Sista‘ Solzhenitzyn moment) may have been a bit dated.

8. Brilliant Writing Doesn't Always Translate to Oral Pun Linguistics
Written punditry is different from oral punditry. He wouldn’t steppe up to the plate, when we can stair at it on the page, clearly shows punditry on the Russian theme. However, spoken, it just sounds like step. Same goes for finnished.  And Y’altallinn you, which cleverly combines Yalta and Tallinn in one fine pun, doesn’t pact the same punch in spoken English.

9. Sometimes you can be too punny for your own good.