CLAIRE BROSSEAU!

2011-11-17T08:43:00.000-08:00

Hey, you! Thanks for stopping by my page! I'm stalk-flattered!
While you're here, why not stay and lurk around a while? You can watch my demo-reel, take your shoe(s) off, relaxercise and let my crappy website blow your mind with it's underwhelming, second-rate quality.
Here's me, happy that you typed and clicked and landed your eyes on my "website"!

Oh, Canada... I'll miss you.

2011-09-10T13:22:00.000-07:00

In less than a week, I’m moving to Los Angeles. It’s not the 1st time I’ve left Canada to live in the States- but I feel pretty confident that it’s going to be the last.
There are so many things I love about my native country that I know I’m going to long for, but the silver lining of American things to come is almost blinding.
I’ve decided that I should list all of Canada’s most appreciated gifts to me, as to be grateful & acknowledge their positive effect on my life. Also, I love making lists, because I am a giant nerd.
*List not in particular order
**Blanket/GENERAL statements/MY Canadian experiences

1. The CBC. Yes, we all know they have produced some horrific shows & terrible “celebrities”. They have also given us amazing comedy (Kids In The Hall, for that ass?) news (George Stroumboulopoulos ladies & germs? Cute & smart no matter WHO you like to eff) & radio. Umm, like Day6, for example- for which I am a regular contributor. Obviously great. Or Jian Ghomeshi! I think we can all agree it’ NOT cool to dislike Jian or George. They ARE cool, whether you want to believe it or not.
2. Same-sex marriage. If straight people are dumb enough to get married, gay people obviously should have the same stupid right. This isn’t even debatable. People are people. Am I right, people?
3. NOW Magazine. I read arts weeklies from all over the world. NOW is the best. They don’t sell-out/they tell the truth, they take risks & represent & support Torontonians in a fantastic light.
4. Minimal gun violence. Look, I like murder as much as the next guy but I always prefer a nice light-saber or sword, obviously. Also, knife-fights rule! Who’s kidding whom here?
5. Porter Air. Umm… as someone who travels for a living- let me assure you, Porter is awesome. I’m very sorry to those who live on Toronto Island, but please think of the convenience for the rest of the country. Air Canada can seriously suck my balls.
6. Laid-back weed laws. Seriously, people. Let’s all relax & realize that weed is awesome.
7. Even though our Prime Minister is an evil, plastic-robot-man (& to this day I don’t know one single person that voted for him- though to be fair I make sure to keep good company) bent on ruining everything that makes out country great, we still seem to keep our socialist attitude.
8. MUSIC! All across this beautiful land, bands seem to spice up music with the perfect dash of Canadian-salt into the soup of the songs we love. My new obsession? The Sheepdogs. SO CANADIAN. SO CUTE. SO CLASSIC ROCK. And mostly, so YOUNG. What would we have done without Sloan, Blue Rodeo, or Rita Macneil? Weddings would be weirder, & we’d have no one to make fun of during the holiday television specials.
9. Ceasers. Kraft Dinner. Hippy-health-shakes in Banff. Labatt 50. Poutine. Steamies in Montreal. Beaver Tails on the Rideau Canal. Sugar Mountain. Montreal bagels. Milk in bags. Toutan in St.John’s. Fish tacos from the wharf in Vancouver. Hot chocolate while skating in Quebec City. Caramilk bars.
10. Free health-care. Need I say more? I don’t think so.

I’m excited to go. I’m just continuing on this weird life path & see where it takes me. At the same time, I feel like I’m completely starting over. Either way, it’s a big change. I like change. I’m forcing myself to like change. Since it’s the only thing we can ever really count on, I figure I may as well try to get on change’s good side.
Wish me luck if you feel like it. I’ll miss you, Canada. I’ve always loved you & I always will but just like our Canadian crime-fighting dog The Littlest Hobo once barked, “Maybe tomorrow, I'll want to settle down. Until tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on.”

Continuing Chronicles Of The Manbbatical

2011-08-25T11:42:00.000-07:00

It’s been three months and a week since The Manbbatical ended. It feels like an eternity ago & paradoxically the time has flown by. SAUCY MINX has been staying with me in my tiny roost & rather than being all up in my grill or annoying, it’s been like a sleepover party every night! Though our cramped living space has the potential to impair our (individual) sex-lives, so far it hasn’t. Besides- SAUCY is the best wife I could ever ask for: she laughs at my jokes/makes ME crack up. She’s a great cook. She’s respectful & aware & has good clothes/shoes to lend me. When I get home after a long night of joke telling she’s waiting for me with deluxe tunes on the stereo, sitting on the couch & offering up a glass of wine & a spliff. SAUCY & I agreed that it’s time to up-date The Continuing Chronicles Of The Manbbatical. Writing this post terrifies & excites me simultaneously.

There are so many great things to report, but certainly not a Hollywood-type ending. I’m clearly a romancer & sometimes psychic- but I can never seem to foresee my own destiny. A big part of me thought I might find the “man of my (wet) dreams” the year I stopped dating, & that everything would turn around- that I would have figured it all out & “fixed” myself by the time the project ended. This did not happen. BAIT & SCULLY remind me (almost daily) that what the Manbbatical taught/is teaching me is a process. Often I feel like I just picked up where I left off before May 18th 2010. I’m just as boy-crazy, still make terrible dating/crushing choices & put myself into amateurish situations as if my sex-less year never happened. Other times I know that I HAVE changed & learned. I’m still working hard, keeping fit/loosing weight, & keeping my eye on the prize in terms of my career & my emotional life. The good news is that although I’m still quite the libertine, I absolutely refuse to let my lusty obsessions cloud my vision of what I have to do to make my overall LIFE better. (SAUCY insists that I COULD focus on finding love & that it could be healthy for me if I did it in an unimpaired way. I’m still not sold.)

It took me a weirdly long time to actually “END” the Manbbatical (explained in previous post). Finally, my hormones got the best of me, & I NEEDED to get laid. I didn’t want it to be with a random stranger, nor did I want to put that kind of pressure on a man that I actually might care for. I decided to hump a friend of mine. We had fooled around before (never slept together, but a finger-blast & titty-feel for sure…) & we’ve always been cool- no weirdness ever involved. Unfortunately, the sex was terrible. It was literally like loosing my virginity all over again. Let me be clear: IT WAS NOT HIS FAULT. We were both pretty/extremely drunk & he may have had whiskey-dick. I definitely had whiskey-vagina (I’m sure it would have felt as fun for him to rub his dong between two bricks). I was grateful that it happened, nonetheless. Though there were no orgasms in sight for either of us, I felt (if anything) I had a little game & a little confidence back. It’s like I was a teenager, again! I had a penis in my vagina- finally! (I forgot how little difference that can make, but only the wisest & stupidest of women never change.) I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to hit that again- if only to prove to him (& myself) that I’m not a horrific lay. I realize how paltry that sounds, by the way.

After that, I ended up sleeping with a comic. (Now is the time when you ask me, “really, Claire? A comic? So… you really DIDN’T learn ANYTHING?!?”) Look. I’ve been a fan of his comedy for a long time & he was forthcoming with his desire to get in my pants. I knew I needed to be fucked properly. I knew I wanted to feel like a WOMAN, again. Judge away, but he gave me just what I wanted. The plus side is that we don’t live in the same city & I never really have to see/deal with him. He’s lovely, hilarious, sexy & fun to hang out with- but the furthest thing from what I would ever want to date for several important reasons. That may sound harsh, but believe me when I say that he & I are on the same page. Here is the good news: I never knew my body was capable of doing or feeling the things he made me feel/do. I look back at the woman I was in my past- the woman who THOUGHT she knew what good sex was, & scoff. This isn’t to say I haven’t had good sex before- but there was something about his body chemistry that rocked me in a brand new way. I honestly felt the earth move- and it wasn’t during that east-coast earthquake.

Since then, I’ve been with a few other lovers. One in particular was lovely. We (also) live in different cities, but while on tour we went out one night & he stayed with me at my hotel. WE (also) had been together before & have a really great connection. The fact is we BOTH travel for a living, so we’re together when we can be & that’s all we will ever be. We actually love each other in our weird way- the only way we can. He’s NOT a comedian & treats me like a queen. He’s ridiculously hot, successful, & is equal parts romantic as he is rough- my favorite combination. I’m lucky to have a man like him in my life. He’s a great reminder that I’m capable of attracting men that AREN’T dirt-bags & that I deserve the best. I don’t NEED him to remind me, but it’s undeniably a nice ego-boost.

A couple of other sexy escapades have occurred, but honestly not worth mentioning. Not because they were bad or embarrassing, but because they are neither here nor there. Whatever that means- but you know what I mean…

So, this is me so far, post-Manbbatical. I still am not in love, nor have I found a man to “settle down” with. I realize now that that isn’t as important to me as it once was. I’m dating & getting laid when I need to. I’m working a lot & that’s fueling the fire under my ass & in my heart. I’ve been spending time with friends & family & enjoying the summer more than I have in years. I’m doing exactly what I love & honestly don’t feel as though I’m lacking much- at the same time as wanting to improve on every level. Which is actually pretty fucking awesome, when you think about it.

Maybe the Manbbatical HAS changed me. Maybe I DID learn something.
By the way, I’ve missed you & I’ve missed THIS.

Thank You, And Goodnight!

2011-06-23T07:44:00.000-07:00

There are several reasons I started the Manbbatical. Firstly, I wanted to take a year to completely better myself in every aspect. It was veiled with the idea that I would quit men & romance, but at the end of the day the project was all about ME, not dudes. I liked the idea of having to document my progress publically- forcing myself to have to answer to someone. I also liked the fact that it would mean I had to WRITE at least every 3 days. The whole idea of the project inspired me. I didn’t always enjoy it, & there were certainly some bumps in the road- but it was definitely the most transforming, influential year of my adult life.
On a personal level, I finally realized that I was capable of setting goals & achieving them. I understand (& appreciate!) the fact that I absolutely do not NEED a man in my life- though many times I may WANT one. I finally know that I deserve a man who will respect me & inspire me, all of the while staying devoted to me. On a professional level, I learned that I’m capable of anything I set my mind to. I’ve realized my potential & (am still learning that) I’m talented & am on the right path- be it an easy one or not. Physically, I converted into a slimmer, healthier me. (That was made even more apparent upon seeing a film last night that I was in LAST year- 30LBS ago…)
Since the end of the project, I’ve been very hesitant about meeting men- let alone sleeping with them. I couldn’t figure out why I didn’t want to let the project go. In conjunction with this weird oner of behavior, I have been dreading posting for my blog. Writing & posting used to be the highlight of my day… reading the response of my readers meant a lot to me. Lately I feel boring & manipulating regarding the circumstances of my personal life- to make the blog more interesting. I have become aware that these two peculiarities have been trying to tell me something: the Manbbatical is over, & though I may not be completely ready to let it go- it’s time for me to say goodbye to this project for several reasons.
I can’t start dating & write about it honestly. I don’t think it’s fair to my future dates to record & report what’s going on between us. Nor is it reasonable for me to think anyone would WANT their public affairs with me to be splashed all over the internet. The reality is- I don’t want this new chapter of my life to be an open book in real time. I would love to (& will!) catch up in the future to let my faithful readers know the sequel to my year- but for now it’s something I have to live through privately.
It’s difficult for me to bring this wonderful undertaking to an end, but I know the time has come. I will still be writing everyday- but it will be jokes & work for the new projects I am embarking upon.
Thank you SO MUCH to all of my readers who have inspired & supported me along the way. You haven’t heard the last of me, I promise! However, in terms of THIS blog, it is time for me to close the book & move on to this new, exciting phase in my life.

Goodbye, Manbbatical. You have meant more to me than I ever thought possible. I am so grateful for you.
Thank you.

Asexual Healing.

2011-06-21T17:28:00.000-07:00

I am 1 year, 1 month & 3 days past the end date of the Manbbatical. Still nothing. Well, sort of. I shared a taxi home with a guy this weekend (we had been out with friends- I’d just met him) & he tried to kiss me. I reminded him that he was going home to his girlfriend. I tried to be polite, all of the while pointing out how inappropriate he was being. Maybe I’m being a prude. I suppose a kiss is no big deal, I just don’t see the point of getting into that situation with a man who lives with his significant other. I’m not judging those who cheat or get with partnered people (I realize things happen & that life is complicated) but why the hell would I want my 1st kiss (seriously!) to be with a cheater? No, thank you.
I’ve taken a bit of time to step back from the project & breathe. I’m trying to figure out my hesitation regarding dating & romance, at the same time as enjoying the shit out of my life without a man. I still haven’t worked out why I want to keep the Manbbatical going- but who cares? I’m not hurting anyone & I have to assume I’ll know when I’m ready. I don’t want to turn it into some big auspicious event- people kiss & have sex every day & night. Something inside me just doesn’t want to unlock the chastity belt.
What if I turn into some asexual weirdo? What if I’ve forever fucked up my game, & turned myself into a born-again virgin? I don’t mean to sound too dramatic, but I seem to have misplaced my boy-craziness & I can’t find it anywhere.
What the hell has the Manbbatical DONE to me?!?

DO NOT ENTER

2011-06-15T09:29:00.000-07:00

I can’t properly explain why I haven’t been writing in the past couple of weeks. Part of me feels as though I’ve got nothing interesting to say, & I’ve also had the strong will to back off from blogging & get some (private) perspective on the project. (I should say I very much appreciate the emails I’ve received from those who miss my posts.)
I genuinely never would have guessed that (almost) a full month after the completion of the Manbbatical, I would (still) be completely single & celibate. In this aspect, the Manbbatical hasn’t technically ended. I don’t mind, at all. I would be lying if I said I’m not dying to get laid, but the idea of going through the motions terrifies me & the thought of me “dating” someone has lost the significance it used to hold over me. I feel like in the past month, I’ve ACTUALLY realized how great my life is, sans boyfriend. I know it will become important to me again at some point (obviously) but right now, I’m enjoying my romantic solitude. I’ve been hanging out with my friends, writing, telling jokes, auditioning, spending time with my family & (trying) to look after my overall health.
I’ve also made a huge decision: I’m moving to Los Angeles at the end of the summer!
I figure now’s the time: no boyfriend, no kids, no responsibilities to anyone but myself. It may not be that way forever, so I feel like there’s no more opportune time than to pack up & take off to enjoy a new, exciting chapter in my life. My agents/managers, family & friends are all in agreement & being extremely supportive. Everything has sort of fallen into place for this move, & I’m really excited to prepare for all the great opportunities that await me south of the border. The fact is, I loved living in New York 14 years ago- the city is electric & inspiring… & I got that same feeling during my last few visits to LA. It made me want to work harder- it lit a fire under my ass. I think I owe it to myself to give myself the best chance possible for success in my field & I feel like this step is obvious & due.
Maybe that’s another reason I don’t really want to date: I know I’m leaving, have lots on my mind & wouldn’t want to get too attached to someone right before taking off.
Maybe I’m making excuses for myself to stay single. I don’t think it matters, either way. If I’m not ready, I’m not ready. I’m glad I recognize that.
Maybe the Manbbatical DID teach me something, after all!

One Night Love Affair.

2011-06-02T20:32:00.000-07:00

It’s been over two weeks since the completion of the project, & still nothing’s happened. Were it not for the Manbbatical, I doubt I would feel such pressure. Because of the deadline & the public awareness of my situation, I feel like maybe I need to make something happen. Also, I’m horny. I told myself I wouldn’t make any 1st moves, that I’d wait until a gentleman asked me out. BAIT doesn’t think I should throw it away. I don’t either. At the same time, I don’t think either one of us would argue that there’s something to be said for scratching an itch.
Yesterday, I was thinking about going to a bar, picking up a random stranger, & telling to not talk to me- only fuck me, unless it was to tell me how sexy I am. I don’t think I would have the balls, or the audacity. I also think that when it came down to it- I wouldn’t like that. Who knows? I suppose it’s not THAT different from talking to a guy for a couple of hours & going back to his place. Maybe I’m becoming paranoid or I’ve been watching too many murder shows, but it’s occurred to me over the past year+ how dangerous that is. It must be so scary having daughters. Or sons!
I was very young when I had my 1st one-night stand. I was sixteen years old. The guy was in his early 20’s. In his defense, I looked much older than my actual age (I used to get into bars very easily from the tender age of fourteen) & I never told him he was about to commit a felony. It didn’t occur to me (or I didn’t care) at the time, but had I informed him of this, he might have reconsidered trying to bone me. (The weird part about this story is that the guy turned out to be a hermaphrodite. Seriously. Both parts: just no boobs. He was beautiful guy- a model- who was definitely androgynous looking, but that kind of whammy would surprise me NOW, let alone at 16.) We never really spoke after that night, but I thought about him a lot.
I’ve had a few one-night stands. Not many, for a woman who’s been sexually active for 20 years. Rarely do I leave satisfied. Usually I leave knowing I’ll never see that pair of earrings I forgot on his nightstand again, ashamed or angry for faking an orgasm… knowing I’m doing a disservice to women everywhere & that I’m going to have to finish myself off alone, at home.
I’m not knocking one-night stands at all. I think they can be great. But I do think I’ve answered my own question- I think I’ll keep waiting for a gentleman I like to ask me out.

Got To Give It Up

2011-05-30T22:17:00.000-07:00

When I was a little girl, my parents never fed my sister or I junk food, unless they were going out & we had a babysitter. In that case, we would get chips, popcorn, and pop & watched a video- usually ET, Spaceballs or Grease (we were one of the 1st families on our street with a VCR!!!). We were never fed sugary cereals, pop-tarts or candy. Since I’ve had an income (I started babysitting at 13) I’ve been buying chocolate, cookies, cakes, anything fried in a bag or that came with a tiny-comic-strip of bad jokes. I’ve weighed within a 70lbs spectrum in the past 15 years.
Until the age of 13, my sister & I were only allowed to watch an hour of TV a week. Even our nanny was strictly warned not to indulge us or quiet us down by allowing us to sit in front of the tube. We loved family time more than cartoons (at the time) so it was anything from 60 Minutes (Seriously. At 5.) to Moonlighting, M.A.S.H. to The Cosby Show, peppered with either The Muppet Show or Solid Gold. At 16 I got a TV for my bedroom. I have probably been watching an average of 4 hours of television a day, since that first Magnavox. (With the exception of a few years in my early 20’s when I went without a television because 1.I was poor & 2.I wanted to read more, but I like to pretend those years never happened.) I always have the TV on in the background when I write, clean, shower and get ready. I try to fall asleep reading, but sometimes it’s on the couch in front of the boobie-tubesey. I try to listen to pod-casts, but I usually resort to my brainwashing machine in the living room.
At 18, I gave up eating meat. No fish, no chicken, no bacon, no steak- no nothing. I decided on a whim while driving home from my cocktail-waitressing job (Quebec+legal drinking age= 18) at 5am (Quebec+last-call= 3am), listening to a show on NPR about the global & physical benefits of a plant-based diet. I didn’t eat anything with a heartbeat for five years after that fateful night. Now, the smell of wings basically gives me a lady-boner. I want to wear a Mexican-wrestling-mask & use a pseudonym to enter a hot-dog-eating-contest. I literally masturbate thinking about eating Ossobuco. Bacon is one of the few things I can be truly happy about, anymore. What I’m getting at here people, is that 1 night a long time ago in NYC, I had too many margaritas & shed too many tears with SCULLY because I had been dumped/kicked to the curb that afternoon. We were at the 79TH street Boat Basin Café. I ordered a Black Angus Sirloin & never looked back.
When I was 29, I got mono & my liver was debilitated. My skin turned yellow & I couldn’t make it up a flight of stairs for weeks on end. I didn’t have a sip of alcohol for almost two years. Last week I woke up lying on my floor covered in chips & black-lips from my Shiraz as I skimmed through photographs on my iPhone I have no recollection of taking or posing in (nothing gross, perverts).
I’m 34 & I just finished a year of no dating. No sex. No nothing sexy. I haven’t been with anyone yet. I don’t want to continue my binge/purge/all-or-nothing-cycle-of-questionable-choices. When will I grasp the concept of “balance & moderation”? There’s a Hindu proverb that says, “Even nectar is poison if taken to excess.” That kind of insight could change my life, of only I used it.

Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away.

2011-05-28T21:51:00.000-07:00

FYI: Still nothing. Haven't even flirted, let alone had sex.

Forget your troubles c'mon get happy,
you better chase all your cares away.
Shout hallejulah c'mon get happy
get ready for the judgement day.

Get Happy, Judy Garland

I’ve always found the song “Get Happy”, by Judy Garland One of the most depressing songs, ever. I know it’s supposed to be about accepting the Holy Spirit. Maybe it’s the way she sings it, or because it’s Judy singing it, but it always makes me sad. Apparently comics are known for being depressive. Although there are many of us (comedians who in fact, ARE depressive) I can think of many people I know who suffer from depression who aren't comics. While driving to a gig with a comic last week, he asked me if I’ve ever been happy two days in a row. It seemed to me a dark question, but a totally legitimate one.
I’ve been pretty honest about my bouts of sadness & lately I’ve been thinking about what it means, “to be happy”. Take my sister, for example: she has a huge job; an amazing husband, a beautiful daughter, a gorgeous house & a smokin’ hot body. She worked her ass off, suffered, waited & sacrificed to acquire all of these blessings. Right now, I think she’s happy. (This is not to say she’s happy all day, everyday- that would be fucking creepy, like a weird-Stepford-robot.)
I too, have a lot to be grateful for- but I wonder if I’ll ever be really happy. I don’t have a man, children, or assets but I have a career that I love, a cute little apartment & thee. most. awesome. friends. I’m know I’m still relatively young (depending on who you talk to) but I wonder if this is it, for me. Is this going to be my life? I’m the woman who has a cat, tells jokes at night, is poor & single, but has a pretty fun time living. Lately, this doesn’t seem so bad, to me. Am I giving up? Have I lowered my expectations? Or have I simply changed priorities? For years I was sure I wanted kids. Now that I’m spending so much time with my niece, I think I’d be happy just being an aunt. I can’t imagine loving another child more than I do her. I would like to share my life with somebody, but maybe that won’t happen. Being alone doesn’t seem like the worst thing ever. I have such great friends & I love my family- I’m literally surrounded by love all the time. I might not have a lot of money, but I don’t need much. (I sure would like to have more of it, though. Jesus Christ, I know they say money can’t buy happiness, but I can totally prove them wrong. I’m dying to try. Paying a BILL right now would make me happy- let alone traveling, or haircuts. See? Already I’m pleading my case. )
I know I shouldn’t do this (I KNOW. I KNOW ALL OF THE REASONS WHY) but sometimes I read comments, & reviews on my blog or in the press. I know I’m putting myself out there. Everyone is entitled to their opinion & allowed to voice it. I’m honestly grateful for that. Sometimes I let the mean ones get to me. They’re usually from men. Some are women who think I need to get over myself. Some have called me a slut, I have issues, I’m past my prime, I’m a man-hater, I’m a shitty writer who’s not funny or smart. I tell myself not to read them, but maybe I’m narcissistic. Maybe I’m masochistic. (I’m not going to lie: the ones that say my boobs are fake are the best. Is it bad that flatters me? If my boobs are fake, that surgeon has a lot of explaining to do about stretch marks & why one is way bigger than the other.) The point is, sometimes I believe the shitty things people say or write about me. I close my laptop feeling like a hack & a failure.
I’m trying really hard to seal my foundation so that negative shittiness can’t sprout through any cracks, but it’s not always easy. It gets better & easier though, and that makes me happy.

I See Paris, I see France...

2011-05-27T13:58:00.000-07:00

Still nothing. Not a look, not a text, not a flirtatious hello.
It’s not just me, either. I think I’ve lost all my game & dudes can innately feel it. I’m not pissing & moaning about it- if that’s what it sounds like. I’m still very comfortable living my life without clouding my mind & heart with man-worries. It also helps/fucking stinks that I’m completely immobile (my back is still out…).
I did make some progress yesterday, however- on both fronts. I got out of bed, & went shopping for some new summer clothes. It was seriously painful & took 5x longer than it should have (my mom had to undress/dress me, hold my hand, put up with my crying & did everything to comfort me) but it was worth it. Because of the weight-loss, I didn’t really have any clothes that fit me & if I don’t look ok, I don’t feel ok. (I should have waited to get out & walk around, but I have two TV appearances in the next week, & I had nothing cute to wear!)
I also bought some new lingerie. Some women love shoes, some love bags… Lingerie has always been my shopping weakness. I didn’t really care this year- wearing my cotton-granny/period underwear, since I knew no one was going to see them. I tried to stay secretly cute under my clothes this past year, but I have to admit- most days consisted of sturdy, durable sports bras & un-matching practical undies. (My sister & my mother wouldn’t be caught DEAD in anything but sexy, matching underclothes. They could be climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, & La Perla would be climbing their ass-cheeks.) So yesterday I got a couple of new bras, & some new panties (oh CHRIST I hate that word!). It made me feel a little sassy, & I wished I had someone to model for- besides my mom. Seeing myself clad in the lacy, sexy garments made me want to get laid, badly- though my fantasies were quickly spoiled by my paralysis & back-brace & the fact that when I walk, it looks like I’ve got a dump in my pants.
I will say this- every now & then, boyfriend or no- it is fun to wear my best lingerie & a slick pair of heels & prance around my apartment. Sometimes I do the dishes that way, sometimes I have a private sexy dance party & sometimes I do my work. Don’t get too excited- most of the time I’m farting around in sweats & wing-sauce stained, oversized t-shirts. If I’m working from home all day the chances of me washing my face/brushing my teeth/getting out of my PJs are slim. But every once in a while, I like to heat up the routine in my apartment, if for no one else but me.
Today I had an in-studio interview for a radio show. I decided to sex-it-up privately beneath my clothes with my new lacy garments. Maybe it gave me an air of confidence- but I felt more attractive, & men seemed to be noticing. (Knowing me, my fly was undone, or I had toilet paper stuck to my shoe…) For the 1st time in a long time, I felt ready. I felt like if a gentleman approached me who seemed kind or interesting, I might want to go on a date.
It can’t ALL be because of my undies, can it?

Prelude To A Kiss

2011-05-24T22:00:00.000-07:00

Not even a kiss, yet.
Maybe I’ll be celibate for the rest of my life. It could happen. My girlfriends don’t seem to think so, but worse things have happened. I know I’m definitely not ready yet, & I’m still not sure why. Apparently my body agrees with my brain on this one- because I put my back out (again) & I’m completely incapacitated. I can’t even wipe my own ass. Even trying to imagine myself with someone right now is hilarious/sad. There was no straining-physical-catalyst, either. My back just went OUT, for nothing. Not to get all new-agey on you, but I’m a big believer that our physical ailments reflect something that’s directly related to that infirmity, in our subconscious. (For example, if you lose your voice, maybe you’re not saying something you need to say or as Louise Hay says, “swallowed anger”. Well, if I can’t walk or move (my usual recovery time for this recurring bullshit varies from days to months) how could I possible get with a dude, let alone MEET one?
As a romantic, I’ve always believed that living with heartbreak was worse than living with chronic pain. That’s completely insane & I take it back. I don’t know how people do this their whole lives: I can’t get comfortable, I can’t sleep, drugs aren’t helping & the searing agony is all I can think about. Once again, I’ve found a reason to make dudes the last thing on my mind.
In a way- it’s good. Before I would’ve been all depressed that I didn’t have a man to take care of me. Now, I don’t seem to care about that. I just want to be well so I can do my job properly. (Tonight I did a half-ass job at the club because I couldn’t focus on anything but the spasms. It wasn’t fair to the crowd, & it wasn’t fair to the comics. I’m behind on all the writing I had to do today, & I’m missing an audition, tomorrow.)
As I drove home from my gig tonight, (I shouldn’t have been driving, I know…) I thought about what would happen if I really DID stay single for a REALLY long time. I mean- honestly- I feel like I’m enjoying the Manbbatical NOW, way more than I did when I was in it. Maybe it’s because there’s no pressure & no rules- technically I can do anything/anyone I want. But each day that passes since the end of the project where I DON’T even TALK to a dude (who’s a potential lover) feels more & more exciting to me.
It makes me more & more hopeful, & I can’t explain why.

Old Me, Meet New Me.

2011-05-22T07:33:00.000-07:00

Still nothing.
I went out with SAUCY MINX on Friday night. I rarely go out to bars or clubs on weekends, because I’m usually working (telling jokes). I had the weekend off, so we decided to go get our dance on. It was fun, but there were some curve balls… for example, my ex ALADDIN’s band was playing at the 1st bar we went to. I saw many of my old friends, & I still love his band. We stayed for a while, & though it was jammed with hot dudes, I needed to get out. After admiring ALADDIN’s fiancée’s diamond ring & politely chatting about their wedding plans, (they really do make a lovely couple & I am honestly very happy for them) catching up with old buddies & swaying to familiar tunes, I knew our time at the Dakota Tavern was done. It was nice to be able to give ALADDIN my best wishes, but obviously there was a small part of me that just needed to get out of there. That’s his life now, not mine.
We continued on, snapping in & out of scenester-decorated bars, having beers & a couple of whiskeys at each place. (I know- we’re very classy.) Queen st. west was bustling with young, hot scene-queens, hipsters & randoms with douchetudes. We got a few ogles from men (honestly- they were mostly checking out SAUCY MINX, she really inspires raging-boners) but nothing to make us want to stay & converse with said flirts n’ squirts. We ended up grabbing snacks & coming back to my apartment for some late night cocktails & a sleepover.
I don’t even FEEL like meeting a man, yet. Is that weird? I’m not even that horny… well, I AM, but not enough to just get out there & make it happen. I’m pretty content just the way things are, right now & that NEVER happens. I’m really busy with work-related stuff, & it’s just not a priority. It’s very strange; I feel like I don’t even know who I am, anymore.
I like this new me, though. Maybe someday an honorable dude will like this new me, too?
PS. I signed up for an on-line dating service, but I can't bring myself to reply to any of the men who've reached out to me. What have I DONE to myself, this past year???

I've Got A Brand New Pair Of Eyeballs

2011-05-20T09:18:00.000-07:00

Read more about the Manbbatical in today's Globe & Mail here.

Well, it’s over. I feel as though I’m looking at the world/men with a new set of eyeballs.
I should tell you that I STILL haven’t had sex- not even close.
Closing ceremonies were SO much fun, in a very sexless way (who would’ve guessed?). A collection of my all-time favorite ladies (who happened to be in Toronto) including FLOATING HEAD, SAUCY MINX, PEACOCK, & ÇA-RAGE (who drove in all the way from Montreal JUST to have dinner with us, AND bought me a GORGEOUS Longchamp handbag…) & I had a lovely dinner in the private room at NAMI (Japanese) & then went dancing- where we were joined by other sassy dames such as BING-BANG, LADY DI & SMORES. It was awesome. Raw fish, JLo, shooters out of test tubes & shaking our lady-asses? Honestly- who could ask for more? It was AMAZING, & it meant so much to me to ring-in this new chapter of my life with these great friends.
It’s going to be weird for me when I DO hook up with a dude. I feel like it’s a private thing, but it’s not fair of me to invite all of you to examine my life like a specimen & then slam the door in your faces when it gets a little more real. It’s one thing to describe my fantasies or past events, but to tell you what my current sex-life is like? SCARY!!!! I think it’s only fair though, & I also think it’s important to give the project the closure it & my readers deserve. I will definitely keep blogging & I promise to let you know how it all turns out.
To be honest I’ve been too busy to even consider meeting /getting rammed by some little hot-fox. I DID intend to take the entire day off yesterday, but I found myself working intermittently throughout the day, all the same. What if I become one of those creeps, who only ever thinks about & does work? We all know that all work & no play makes Jack a dull boy.
I don’t want to be a dull Jack! But I’m scared… has my hymen/integrity grown back?

All The Way.

2011-05-17T19:26:00.000-07:00

To listen to me at 810am EST on Virgin Radio tomorrow morning, listen here.
To listen to me on 102.1 The Edge at 450pm EST tomorrow afternoon, listen here.
Pick up a copy of The Globe & Mail this Friday, May 20th to find out more about The Manbbatical!

“The first step towards getting somewhere is to decide that you are not going to stay where you are.”

I can’t believe it’s done. Technically, I could have sex in 2 hours & 45 minutes. I won’t. I’m staying home alone tonight, getting ready for tomorrow.
I know you probably thought all I would want to do was have sex, but what I’m really excited for is having sushi with my girlfriends & going to get our dance at the local dancery on & giving dudes dance-boners.
I’m going to give myself a healthy pat on the back. A year ago I was sleeping with a douchebag, I felt unattractive, I was working a part-time job that was sucking the life out of me & I was completely stuck & uninspired with my career. I was able to quit my waitressing job, lost 30lbs, wrote 139 blog-posts, & finally feel on track in terms of my comedy/acting/writing trifecta. I didn’t find my Prince Charming over the last 365 days- I secretly thought I might & hoped I would. Perhaps if I had, I wouldn’t have come out of this in the same way & I am happy with how it all turned out.
There were bumps in the road for sure: MAN-X, MAGIC TRICK, HIM & CREW definitely gave me a run for my money- but my vagina did not waver. There were many days I had nothing to write about because I felt I had nothing interesting to say. There were days I felt lonely & stupid for taking on such a crazy & autocratic task. There were nights when I wanted to actuate a Sexual Armageddon. I stayed the course & got the job done, & I’m proud of myself.
My friend NOT STEVE sent me a list of Star Wars guidelines to ending The Manbbatical he thinks I should adhere to after tomorrow, & I present it to you now:

1) Don't give into the darkside; the penis is not your father.
2) Remember, the power of the penus runs deep inside you, don't use it to unleash anger.
3) If you meet a dude named Anakin, he's probably an asshole, or soon will be.
4) If the penis glows green or purple when you turn it on, for god sakes don't put it in your vagina.
5) The VagMobile should only be driven by someone who is a good pilot.
6) Treat your pants like a Jedi Temple and not a bar on Mos Eisley.
7) When you send out a message to be rescued, your hero may be shorter than you expect.
8) Powerful men (Especially intergalactic gangsters named Jabba) often come with chains attached.
9) Older men have often mastered their light sabres. Just make sure they can still lift it first.
10) When making your first movie, always leave room for a sequel.

I think it’s all pretty accurate, with the exception of the penis not being my father. I mean, it’s ACCURATE (but creepy), & I’m sure I’ve never confused the two. It also makes me wish I could celebrate at the Cantina tomorrow night. Alas, we (some of my all-time favorite ladies) will settle for sushi & grinding to classic dance-tunes. There will be no droids inside our place of partying, OR my fish-lips.
Too bad- I got waxed, mani & pedied, my hair & nails did, I bought a hot new dress paired with smokin' heels. Sucks to be you, droids… sucks to be you.
I’ll let you know how it goes. I can’t wait! It’s done!
Catch you on the other side, lovers. Thanks SO MUCH for seeing me through this…

The Last Crusade

2011-05-14T14:11:00.000-07:00

Professor Henry Jones: Elsa never really believed in the grail. She thought she'd found a prize.
Indiana Jones: And what did you find, Dad?
Professor Henry Jones: Me? Illumination.

I have 4 days left. FOUR. FUCKING. DAYS. It’s all I can think about. It’s what I dream about. It’s what most everyone I come across talks to me about. I know & don’t expect anyone to care about it the way I do, but many seem curious.
CREW has been in Toronto for work the past couple of days. (If you don’t remember who “CREW” is, read this: http://www.clairebrosseau.com/2011/02/live-and-dont-learn.html ) He’s staying in a hotel. If you’re an avid reader of my blog, you know that hot-hotel-sex is one of my all-time favorite things. He messaged me & texted me a couple of times to hook up with him, while he’s here. I didn’t do it. I wanted to. Badly. But I didn’t. Upon talking to SCULLY about my dilemma, she reminded me of Elsa plummeting to her death in an abyss, upon giving into her temptation & obsession for the Holy Grail (in Indiana Jones & The Last Crusade, obviously). It just isn’t worth it. Indiana would have suffered the same fate, had Henry (his father) not urged him to let it go. I guess in this story, I’m Indiana, SCULLY is Henry, & CREW’s love-torpedo is the Holy Grail.
I should be honest & tell you my decision to stay strong, was made easier by the fact that I have a houseguest this weekend: an old friend & comic from out of town “NOT STEVE”. NOT STEVE needed a place to crash in Toronto. I obviously wasn’t going to bring a dude back to my tiny abode to have some awkward non-but-almost-sex with NOT STEVE in the next room, or tease CREW to the point of blistering blue-balls, like I did last time. Also, I wasn’t going to go to his hotel & not come home to hang out with my pal/guest who I rarely see. Most importantly, I shouldn’t be treading on such thin ice when I have but a few days to go. All I’m saying is, I’m strong- but there were factors in my corner to help me be so. Man, how I wish CREW’s bid-ness trip could have been delayed by a week. I would have destroyed him AND his Holy Grail.
At brunch this morning, NOT STEVE & I ran into my friend SKYWALKER. SKYWALKER insisted that I MUST sleep with someone on the day of the Manbbatical completion. I told him I really didn’t think that was going to happen, but reminded him of my drinking problem, so really- anything’s possible. SKYWALKER says that since I’ve made such a big deal about it being a YEAR that I need to bring that year to a close, properly. He described it as doing press & promos & trailers for a big film, & upon it’s release date, telling crowds the movie’s actually not opening that night. But it’s not a movie. It’s my life & it’s sex. It’s not a joke- it’s something I take pretty seriously, especially now.
Or DO I? Who knows… this year was meant to clarify certain issues for me, & now I feel more confused than ever.

Sleeping With Claire

2011-05-12T10:02:00.000-07:00

The following guest-post was written by Gillian Bennett. Bennett is a graduate from The Neighborhood Playhouse School Of The Theatre in New York City. She has a BFA in Creative Writing from UBC. She is an award-winning playwright and actress. She has been one of my closest friends for over fifteen years & I've been lucky enough to work with her on stage- she's one of the most talented, imaginative women I've ever known...
Visit http://www.bigsmokeproductions.com/ for more information.

Instead of doing a Manbbatical to change my pattern with men, I spent 3 months as an outpatient in a psych ward, living in my mother’s basement in Edmonton, having just been dumped by a guy I had fooled myself into thinking I loved. Post break-up, I drank my face off, sent him pathetic emails with cloying subject lines like “why?” and did what my girlfriends warned me against, I read self-help books and convinced myself I had every disorder listed: bipolar, borderline, narcissism…you name it, I had them all. I had to be pathological, right? It couldn’t just be me making bad choices. I now realize I dodged a bullet with that guy. I had been pouring myself into his ugly cracks and calling it “romance.”

But at the time, I sat there stunned in group therapy, looking around me at the bad furniture and sad faces, asking myself “why” with more urgency. My favorite group was “insight” group. Since we all seemed to lack any insight whatsoever, I enjoyed the irony. But we’d sit there, and the rule was that the two therapists wouldn’t speak, WE had to start the conversation…. the screwed up ones who didn’t know how to communicate. I guess they were trying to teach us about responsibility.

As a result, there were many long, awkward meetings where no one said anything, we just stared at the floor and waited for it to be over, which was sort of like how my last relationship had gone. It gave me pause to think. And I guess that is what Claire just created for herself, a yearlong pause.

When Claire and I lived together in New York City, before my stint with the bad egg, we slept together. I was always on the top and she was on the bottom…of our bunk beds. We never shared a bunk, if that’s what you are wondering. It was platonic in our miniscule, cockroach infested, Hell’s Kitchen apartment.

The guys we shared the place with also had bunk beds in their room, which seems somehow worse for guys than for girls. But our roommates asserted their machismo by leaping all Dukes of Hazard like in and out of bed. It was about as action adventure as they could muster, but really it was because they never could figure out how to screw the ladder together.

Our apartment was a mini camp for adults and perhaps it infantilized us, but I like to think it brought innocence to challenging times. Claire and I rubbed ourselves up against the bones of New York letting the friction define us. It was how you would throw yourself against the first lover that could bring you to orgasm, the first one that you actually could be yourself with, who you found sexy and mysterious, and sometimes mean. The first lover that knew more than you did.

There was no place for moderation during this time; moderation was for boring conformists who slept on a bed with a pillow top (the kind I sleep on now). In New York, we loved and hated each other and ourselves with equal passion, we stumbled around the city in awe and in despair, we foolishly loved the same man, forgave ourselves, forgave each other, and fell back into bed together again. Our time together in bed was, mostly, innocent.

We got the bunk beds at Ikea in New Jersey (thus the difficulty with the ladder). Because we were broke, I scooped a mattress from the sale bin, only to discover it was a child sized mattress and didn’t fit the bunk, so when I was lying on it on the top bunk, I could easily roll over and would look down at Claire through the slats in the frame. This is how we’d drift to sleep, laughing and talking, sometimes crying, often about men and love and wondering who, if anyone, would ever love us back. We fell asleep alone together, dreaming.

During our third year in New York, I found myself homeless and moved into Claire’s apartment with her. This time, she had a mature roommate who could do things like pay rent and unclog the drain; they lived together on the Upper East Side. We were still in love with New York, and still looking for love. Claire was kind enough to let me sleep in her bed with her…for months. I have always found Claire to be extremely generous with sharing her bed, and maybe this is part of what has contributed to her need for a Manbbatical.

Some of you reading this have probably shared a bed with Claire. If you have, then lucky you. She is hot, her skin is soft, she cuddles and smells really good all the time, like plums I think. Or maybe citrus? And she doesn’t accidentally punch you in the face in the middle of the night. Except that one time, but I was totally asking for it.

She saved me from unwanted bedfellows and made me feel less lonely. I was looking for some kind of acceptance, or validation from men in New York but didn’t realize I was getting it from Claire all along. She didn’t kick me out of bed for eating crackers, and she probably should have.

I wasn’t really slutting around as much as I fooled myself into thinking I was falling in love, night after night with guys who did kick me out of bed, for a far lesser violation than crackers. They were probably just annoyed with my desperation, because for me it wasn’t about sex. I wanted more. I venture to say Claire and I were both invested in casual sex with a strident dedication. It kind of wrecked the whole point of casual sex, since the expanse of each night was like the journey through a relationship. We demanded the casual romps be laden with…ugh…meaning.

What Claire may not know is that I think I was in awe of her. She always drew people to her. The bagel guy at 4 am that would run out every night and give her hot bagels as we walked by, the guys at the deli, the guys in our class…. She claims in her blog that she needs to seek out moderation, but her intensity is one of the things that I, and others, have loved. Maybe moderation is overrated. There is that famous William Blake quote, “The road to excess leads to the palace of wisdom…for we never know what is enough until we know what is more than enough.” I bet Claire has discovered that abstinence is more than enough, and I would caution Claire to practice moderation in moderation.

Now, with this Manbattical what I see happening is Claire creating meaning for herself, outside of her bed. This ain’t easy, God knows. I think what she is saying with the Manbbatical is “I’m OK alone”. And she is. Now, the fact that she is doing this, as some have pointed out, places extra emphasis on this idea of partnering with someone, thus by it’s very definition the Manbbatical could be said to be about an absence, about what is lacking. Or people say it’s a promotional thing. But who cares. So what. At least she’s doing something.

By some miracle, I got very lucky in love myself. I had similar issues with men that Claire talks about in her blog, which landed me in the hospital. I think I was looking for men to reflect me to myself, somehow. And I always sought out the damaged guys, the ones who were great at withholding. But it was never really about the men. Not really.

I think the only reason I’m lucky enough to have found and married a wonderful man, is the pause I took. I guess the 3 months of reflection in group therapy wasn’t a complete waste of time, because when I connected with my husband to be, though I loved being with him and it felt so good, I thought no, he’s too nice. It’s too easy.

And I entered reluctantly, as did he, into our relationship. We had both just been hurt. We both sort of had a Manbbatical attitude in the beginning, swearing to each other we were not actually dating as we rolled out of bed every morning, we told ourselves that this didn’t mean anything to us, really. We tricked ourselves into trying, when we may not have tried before. It’s when I looked away that it seemed to happen for me.

And, as I tell Claire, I struggle lots, I’m still a neurotic basket case with lots of self-loathing and doubt. I’m so lucky to be with my husband, but we make tones of mistakes. Just this week, after another fiery argument, my husband and I were practicing saying the line, “You may be right” to each other when we disagree. We both hate saying it, since we both know we are right, but we’re working on it.

Hopefully you don’t need to have a nervous breakdown, or swear off men for a year, in order to find love. This sounds cheesy, so forgive me, I’m no comedian and it’s just how I see it. But I don’t think unrequited love is found, I think it’s made.

Hornographic Material

2011-05-09T06:47:00.000-07:00

Okay- I admit it. I’m fucking horny. For some reason, my horniological clock hadn’t been ticking in a while, but it’s back on tick-tocking away again. I spent the day with some girlfriends (SAUCY MINX & CUPCAKE) & told them of my hornification plight. They both answered with the same question: “What’s the matter with your vibrator?” I told them my vibrator(s) have been great, but I need to be KISSED. I want to be HELD & PAWED. I need someone to whisper dirty secrets & demands in my ear, to send me a filthy text. I want a guy to take my clothes off… That’s the kind of performance my vibrator just can’t deliver. It’s one thing to roll over, Jill-off & shove your toys back in your drawer- it’s another to run your hands through a man’s hair when his head is between your legs. There’s just something about grabbing a man’s ass to push him further inside of you that pretend-time just doesn’t offer. You know I’m right.
I honestly don’t think I’m going to get laid on May 18th. I DO plan on getting quite drunk. I’ve decided to go for a nice dinner with some of my close girlfriends in Toronto that night. After that, we’re going dancing/drinking. I am going to go to church that day. I don’t know why. SCULLY (of all people!) suggested it- she thought it might be a good idea. I think it could be good, too. I need to take some quiet time, talk to “God” or whoever-the-fuck, & reflect on my past year.
I’ve been thinking about where I was, one year ago today. I was sleeping with this guy who I knew was bad news for me. He didn’t live in this city, he was crazy, & treated me terribly. I hated myself for hanging in there but I kept on doing it. His own friends were telling me I could do better. I was depressed about it. I was furious with myself for investing so much time and heart into this ungrateful, undeserving weirdo- and so many before him. Many of my exes have been wonderful & we’re friends to this day, but several of them have been complete douche-hats. I think my stats are pretty similar to most other women AND men around my age- I’m not trying to be all, “take back the night” or anything.
I had this moment of luminous realization when I knew the only thing I could do was to quit dudes for a while. When one of my weaknesses/addictions starts to make my life unmanageable, I quit it for a bit until I can get a hold of myself. It’s why I’ve quit drinking and drugs for years at a time, or cut out sugar and cigarettes. There’s a time & a place for everything, & at times I need to be reminded of that. I just like everything that feels good all the time & I need to simmer down!
NINE MORE DAYS, & my project is over. If I don’t have sex that night, does it just go on until my boning trysts resume? How am I going to be normal when being intimate with dudes after all of this? Do I have to tell him what I’ve done/haven’t done this past year? Do I not mention it? He might think I’m a freak show, or maybe value his privacy. He might not want me to write about it- even if I do disguise him with an alias. He may get turned off the fact that my sex-life is literally an open book- they will be little mystery about me. I feel doomed. My ego is still pretty bruised from constant rejection in the past few years, & I’m scared at this point, I’ve got zero game OR allure. This past year was safe for me because I had an EXCUSE for being alone. Now I very well may go back to being alone because unrequited love can’t seem to evade me. Great.
I guess I’ll just wait & see what happens. As per uge.

3 Female Comics Discuss The He-Tox

2011-05-06T11:10:00.000-07:00

The following post was written by three girlfriends of mine who are all comics out of Canada. Two of them have moved away to further their careers in different countries (US & UK). I asked them to write about whatever they wanted, provided it had SOMETHING to do with the Manbbatical. I've had guest-posters before, but since these women do what I do for work, I thought it might be nice to shed some light... Enjoy!

This 1st post was written by the lovely & fucking hilarious Kristeen VonHagen. She was named in the Top 30 Power Women in ELLE magazine. Currently making her home in NYC, she's warming up the crowd for The Nate Berkus Show (NBC). KVH has appeared on CBC's The Debaters, Just For Laughs, Video On Trail, The Cream Of Comedy, & has had comedy specials on Comedy Central & The Comedy Network. Follow her blog: http://kvhdietblog.blogspot.com/

When I first heard Claire was doing a one-year Manbbatical my first thought was…thank God it’s not a leap year. I thought the Manbbatical was a good idea. Claire, who is indeed boy crazy, was running around making rash decisions, sleeping with/pining over losers and creeps. I thought this was positive move. I also thought it would last a month. And here we are less than two weeks to go with the Manbbatical intact. Mostly. The rules did change, but that is life. My fiancée always bugs Claire and says ‘you know the Manbbatical is over, right?’
As a non-single I often forget the terror of being single, when you don’t want to be single. Not just how hard it is not to have a partner but how hard it is not to focus on it. Just like my diet, the more you focus obsessively on something the more it eludes you. Claire still was Claire. Still falling in love with weirdos. Still obsessing over relationships. But this time she had to go through all these emotions without the ability to get handsy and make a fast move. I feel this Manbbatical had more to do with restraint and being held accountable then any real change in how Claire operates. I hope Claire makes better man choices in the future, but it is hard to say. I also personally hope she will have trouble getting laid after this whole year of trying to fight it. I know she won’t – but it would be amusing.
I will also say this; my least favorite Manbbatical post was when Claire quoted lyrics from the Fergie song ‘Clumsy’. No one should ever quote Fergie lyrics to make a point. Ever.

The following was written by the hilarious & talented Kathleen McGee. McGee is tearing it up across Canada & the US, opening for the likes of Russel Peters & appearing at Comedy Festivals, headlining clubs & destroying wherever she plays. Listen to her radio show on XM's Laugh Attack, ANYTHING GOES.
(http://itunes.apple.com/ca/podcast/anything-goes-on-xm/id418794165)

When I heard about Claire's idea to give up on men and romance for a year I thought she was crazy...and full of shit. Claire and I are both fans of men, boys, and dudes whatever you want to call them. We both are open about our sexuality and our love for a good roll in the hay. I didn't think there was anyway possible that Claire could push herself away from the table and say that she was full...ha ha, full.

For whatever reason she decided to do this, publicity or to truly see what a year without men would be like, she did do it. I know there were a lot of people, including myself at times, that thought this was an ego project; a way to get Claire Brosseau out into the world… to get people talking about her and notice her. It worked! Claire put a lot of work into her career this year, I know this because she told me constantly :) She got a major comedy festival this year and was all over newspapers, blogs and television. Good for her for putting herself out there and committing to the entire year. Canadian comedians (for some reason) seem to be terrible at self-promotion. I've worked with American comedians and they all have websites, merch and followings. I know that comics will sometimes put down other comics that do something to push themselves ahead, it's because we're insecure and lazy. I know some comics will disagree with that statement so I guess I'll say that I am definitely one of those comics. In the past 2 weeks three people in the industry (not comedians) that I respect and love have told me that I need to start working harder. That I need to start putting myself out there more and networking with people that can help me. (LIKE MY KATHLEEN McGEE FACEBOOK PAGE!) Being a comedian it's hard to push yourself. Most comics have a lot of self-loathing. (FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER @Kathleen_McGee) . Not every comic, but a lot of the ones I know.
When people tell me that they saw a(my) show I always apologize...I don't know why. I've got to get over that. I'm funny, & I wouldn't be where I am if I wasn't. So is Claire, but I'm starting to realize that this business isn't always about how funny you are...it's how much you push.
I hope that Claire has learned things about herself with this blog, but I know that she learned more about the business. That's more valuable than figuring out matters of the heart. Maybe...or maybe I'm just a cold bitch ;)

This guest-blogger wishes to remain anonymous. She is also a (Canadian) female stand-up comic who travels all around the world entertaining people by making them laugh. She has appeared at the Halifax Comedy Festival, The Winnipeg Comedy Festival, & has had her own comedy special on CTV/The Comedy Network. She is excellent at what she does.

When I heard that Claire Brosseau was doing a one-year Manbbatical my first thought was, "LIAR"! And my second thought was, "Why?" I lost virginity at the late age of 20 and really only did it because I wanted to get it over with. Unfortunately, I did not hit the jackpot. It was the smallest dick I had ever seen and I had never seen one up to that point. The last time I saw a dick that small was on a child. The good news was that it wasn't painful-but at that point I had a vibrator the size of a small bat.
So after that, I guess you could say I went on an involuntary Manbbatical for nearly two years- and practically raped the next man I slept with.
SCENE
Me: Do you wanna make out?
Guy: Sure.
Me: Ok finish your pizza, go upstairs brush your teeth. I will be ready when you get down.
I am a romantic, as you can see. I guess I kind of felt like I needed more of a challenge. So since then my sexual encounters have been few until recently, which is when I decided to use the last 2 years in my twenties to fuck the place down. And it has been FUN! Which brings me to my original question: "Why?" In my case dick was not a plenty. I needed to save that shit up for the winter. But don’t take my word for it.

Foreplay, Cuddling - A Jedi Craves Not These Things.

2011-05-03T09:42:00.000-07:00

"You take the good, you take the bad,
you take them both and there you have
The Facts of Life, the Facts of Life."

The Facts Of Life, theme song

I entered into a comedy competition a few weeks ago- The Great Canadian Laugh-Off. I’m generally not a fan of comedy competitions, but the grand prize was $25 000, & I decided I love money way more than I hate contests. I made it through to the finals, which were eight comics on a TV special.
In the green room last night before the taping of the show, one of the comics asked me if I hypothetically won the $25K, would I associate success in my career with abstinence. The fact is- the year I stayed single has been the most rewarding year of my career to date. It’s undeniable.
I really wish I had won. I really could’ve used that money. It was spent long before last night. The thing is- there’s really 2 ways of looking at it, & unfortunately, both are true: I tried hard & I did the best that I could. I made it to the finals (down from hundreds of comics) & got to showcase for the judges (all industry people I should impress) as well as tell jokes on television, which is always nice. On the other side, I tried my best & it simply wasn’t good enough. The good news is that the comic who won (Mark Debonis- check him out!!!) is genuinely hilarious & talented as were the rest of the comics on the show- so I was honored to be there & don’t feel robbed in any way.
It would have been a great end to The Manbbatical. Can you imagine? I know the benefits of this project are already profuse, but to win $25K with a mere two weeks left would have been spectacular. Oh well. I didn’t. Life goes on- but not with a computer that’s less than 5 years old, rent money, non-cancelled credit-cards, debt-free living, a trip to the dentist, or a flight to LA to visit & celebrate the end of my year of cock-cleansing with GARY ST.KEVIN, MS.MET, SUBLIMATE or BAIT. Sad-face.
People keep asking me if I have a dude lined up for the 18th of May. The answer is no. Not even close. I haven’t made any plans for that day/night. I’ve been very focused on work lately, & honestly haven’t been thinking about getting rammed/making-love. I think it’s partly fear (as I’ve stated before). It’s been a long time (for me) & I’m scared I’ve lost my game/nerve/appeal. Example: I was out with my girlfriends CELESTIE, PEACOCK, & SAUCY MINX the other night. These women are all ridiculously hot, charming, smart & hysterically funny. Obviously men congregated around us, bought us drinks, paid attention. Not really to me, though. I’m not saying they treated me like I was leprous, but I’m always treated like a pal or a kid sister. Dudes ask me for my girls’ numbers, but not mine. I’m not saying I’m hard-done-by, but SAUCY MINX has been living in Toronto for a mere week, & has already generated more interest than I do in years. I’m not jealous- I understand it. The weird thing is, I don’t even really care that much. I feel like I’m over sweating it. I’ve had a great year on my own. Sure I get lonely & wish I had a partner, but my life is pretty great. I have a lot of love in my life & more good friends than anyone deserves. I’ve learned how to make sexual pangs subside or take care of it on my own. I’m through with chasing. I don’t have the fight in me anymore.
SAUCY MINX tells me I need to be more patient & trust in the universe. I DO trust in the universe & I TRY to be patient. I’m also doing my best to stay positive & see the silver lining of these disappointing realities- such as not winning comedy contests, not getting my own televised comedy special, or other dreams I had for this year. I’ve accomplished a lot, but so often I feel as if I trip & fall right before I’m about run do my victory-lap. I know you can’t win them all.
I’m just torn between the “my best is never good enough…” & the “I’ve accomplished so much this year.” mentalities.

How could I have been so naïve to think I’d have it all figured out, just because I abstained from boning for a year?

CLAIREY 101

2011-04-30T12:22:00.000-07:00

Friends, lovers & other strangers/creeps…

Sometimes it’s difficult to write about my life while simultaneously being entertaining. Mostly because these days, I’ve been really well behaved. I’m not (really) drinking, no massive crushes, no crazy partying… just work, work, work. Who wants to read about my boring, sex-less life when nothing epic is going on? Not me! So I’m giving you the opportunity to ask me anything you want via facebook, twitter, & comments below this post. I will be as truthful as possible, as I always strive to be. This is your chance to ask me anything. If you comment below, you can remain anonymous if you prefer.
So- GO FOR IT!!! Ask me anything! I’m an open book! Now’s the time, people.
Ask away.

Starve Spring Fever

2011-04-27T06:20:00.001-07:00

Twenty-one days left…
Something is happening to me. I’m usually very horny this time of year. Every spring I come down with ‘Spring Fever’ & start leaving my scent around to warn the other dogs that I’m in heat. You would think this year would be no exception- in fact you’d think this year my avidity would be agonizing. Even though my yearlong dong-diet’s not completely up, it’s been over a year since I last had sex (I hadn’t been active for a few weeks leading up to May 18th, 2010). I know to many 1 year sexless isn’t apocalyptic, but it’s the longest (by far) I’ve ever gone man-wand-free. I know at this point I should be dying for it, but I’m not. In fact I feel like sex is almost the last thing on my mind. I just keep thinking about work & how the completion & absence of this project are going to affect my career. Taking sex out of my life has kept me so busy! Writing about it, research for it, meetings re: the project itself plus radio, newspaper, website & TV interviews… This journey has taken over my entire life. It’s the thing everybody talks to me about; it’s what I fall asleep at night dreaming about & wake up ideating. The success of The Manbbatical has fueled me & kept me as grounded as I’m ever going to get. I’m so terrified everything I’ve learned & accomplished is just going to fade away as time goes by, that I’ll slip right back in to my old bad habits.
There are lessons from this experience that have sunk in already, & more to come after the conclusion. I can tell you for sure I am more confident (in several aspects of my life) than I was a year ago. I believe in my abilities as a performer & I accept my wins because I deserve them. It’s not just luck or charm- it’s hard work & dedication & the help of my loved ones paying off. I understand & appreciate my femininity in a way I never embraced it before. I’m under no illusions of how flaky that sounds (I’m talking to YOU, MS.MET!) but I mean it. It’s the 1st time in my life I’ve felt proud to be a woman- I really don’t mean to all ‘take back the night’, but I finally realize the true value of my gender. (Gross. I can’t even SAY that without gagging & giggling. Obviously my maturity level hasn’t ascended to any significant stratum…) I think I’m finally beginning to grasp that I deserve the best in terms of a partner- far beyond what any of my past crushes could offer me. I know how many honorable, generous, kind & loving men there are out there & I hope not to settle for anything less than one of them.
If I genuinely HAVE learned all of these lessons- than I accomplished everything that I set out to in the past (almost) year. Unfortunately I know myself quite remarkably, & warnings & teaching rarely stick. I guess I have to stop crucifying myself over ever little mistake & setback. Nobody is perfect.
I have to trust myself to carry on with the ambition & work ethic I’ve sustained throughout the year. I should hold onto that feeling of restraint- familiarize myself with the sensibility of long-term rewards as opposed to instant-gratification. I need to keep examining people & situations more closely & not take everything for granted. Mostly, I need to remember that life is hard & making it good takes work. It’s making clear & valid the cliché that something worth having is worth fighting for.
Life really never does turn out the way we think it will. Part of me thought I would meet the man of my dreams throughout this project- I thought fate might’ve played a trick on me. It hasn’t. I’m sorry to be so anti-climactic (literally AND figuratively) but there might be no explosion of fireworks & lovemaking on May 18th, 2011. Also, it will be difficult to just plain sleep with a dude without turning it into some huge ceremonial observation. That’s a lot of pressure for any man AND me. I suppose as usual we’ll just have to wait & see.
That’s the thing about me: I always am who I am- no matter how I might appear to have changed.

A Wind In The Door

2011-04-23T09:28:00.000-07:00

"You know this ain't the first time
This has happened to me, this love sick thing
I like serious relationships
And a girl like me don't stay single for long
'Cause every time a boyfriend and I break up
My world is crushed and I'm all alone
The love bug crawls right back up
And bites me and I'm back"

Fergie, Clumsy

I realized something while driving to my gig, yesterday.
As I swerved & maneuvered the vag-mobile down the QEW, I wondered how long it would take for my broken-heart & bruised pride to fully recover from HIM. It’s getting annoying & boring at this point. It was a couple of months with a man who I didn’t even sleep with, let alone actually enjoy a real relationship with- so this grief surrounding it is disproportionate. It should be over by this point. It’s been months since last we spoke, & I should’ve moved on by now. His memory still haunts me when a sad song shuffles on my iPod, when I’m horny, & (obviously) when his mug appears on my TV screen. His name often comes up in comedy conversations (as many hold HIM in such high regard), & I silently cringe. I hate that I still find him so funny. It would be so much easier if he were a dick or a hack. But he’s still amazing- just not for me. I’m acutely aware of all the things that could/should turn me off about HIM, but he’s a bit like Lex Luthor: he doesn’t have any REAL superpowers, but he’s a constant menace to my peace of mind.
I haven’t been able to figure out why he has had SUCH a lasting effect on me. Honestly, I’ve dated men who are more famous, younger, hotter & wealthier, etc… who technically “should” be more difficult to move on from. Unfortunately/fortunately for me- I’ve never really given a shit about any of that crap. I thought maybe it’s because he’s the funniest person I’ve ever met, & it really disappoints me if a sense of humor means EVERYTHING to me. It shouldn’t mean EVERYTHING. But I think I’ve figured it out:
It’s because of the Manbbatical.
Ordinarily, I’d have not only dated, but slept with someone since HIM by now. (I know there was that slip-up with CREW in Halifax, but that was but a wrinkle in time.) I know it’s not the prescribed method of dealing with heartache, but being with another always speeds up my recovery process immensely. This is because while I suffer- I’d prefer to think of ANYTHING else, & do what I have to in order to make that happen. I know it’s not healthy, but it’s been my pattern.
The whole point of this year was to be completely on my own- but maybe it’s good that I fell in love with HIM. I’ve been FORCED to deal with it in an unusual way (for me). I mean- I’ve had to actually DEAL with it, instead of hopping in the sack with some random dude. It’s been a tough lesson, but a good one- I suppose. At least I’ve had the time & compulsion to examine where it is I went wrong. Though it sucks in the moment, I’m sure (I HOPE) this investigation will help me to become a stronger, healthier, more confident partner to someone when the time comes.
Like with most types of pain, each day feels a little better though there are setbacks from time to time.
I guess I’m just learning to stand on my own two feet, instead of taking my usual route of collapsing backward into someone’s bed.

Believe In Your (wet) Dreams.

2011-04-21T08:37:00.000-07:00

"Damn I wish I was your lover
I'd rock you till the daylight comes
Make sure you are smiling and warm
I am everything
Tonight I'll be your mother
I'll do such things to ease your pain
Free your mind and you won't feel ashamed
Open up gonna come inside
Gonna fill you up
Make you cry"

Sophie B. Hawkins, Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover

Last night I had a hot sex-dream about a close (male) friend of mine. Although it always feels good & real in the moment- when I wake up I feel guilty, embarrassed & bewildered. Now I won’t be able to look him in the eye, next time I see him.
In my waking life, my fantasies are pretty safe & boring. I usually think about the man that I’m dating, or my current crush. I’ve been trying to get spicier by conjuring up sexual escapades with sexy famous people, but I get way too cerebral about it & end up playing out the situation far beyond the sex. For example, “well, it could never really work with Gerard Butler because he lives in a different country, & I’d be really jealous about all of the attention he gets, so letting him go down on me would be really bitter-sweet…” Why can’t I just relax & imagine that for some reason GB & I get caught in an elevator together & sexy-time ensues? Maybe I should be drunk in my fantasies. Obviously during my naps I have little control over whom I’m Jilling-off to, but it so often surprises me. I wonder if it means I have hidden feelings for that person, or it’s just because I had coffee with him that afternoon & his face is still floating around in my brain? Many times male-female friendships can enter the gray-zone when you’re both single, but in my experience, if the woman is into the dude in a down & dirty lovey-way, the dude will absolutely know- no questions asked. MAGIC TRICK is a good example of that. We’ve been pals for years, but I’ve never hesitated to fully hit on him when we’re out at night. We wouldn’t make a good couple, but I would definitely get in his pants if I could & he knows it. There’s no palling-around in a brother-sister way. Unless you like having sex with your siblings, in which case you’ve got way bigger problems at hand.
For the past couple of months- once I realized it was really more my pride (& less my heart) that’s been ripped out of my body & pulverized over HIM, I’ve forced myself to be less horny. I’ve been adhering to a self-imposed hectic work schedule & reading in bed before I fall asleep. I figure I’ll have lots of time to be all sassy & lustful in TWENTY-SEVEN DAYS. I’m scared to see what becomes of all the pent-up, unused passion. I didn’t want to just sleep with anyone, but it might be a good idea to get my rocks-off with some random dude so I might be able to pursue a normal relationship when I meet someone, without him feeling the pressure of pleasing me & my relinquished vagina.
I do have a current crush going, but it doesn’t really matter because he doesn’t know me & he has no idea that the very idea of possibly running into him makes my heart beat faster. Since I’ve decided to never be the aggressor again, there’s a good chance my feelings for him will go completely unseen & unknown. I do believe that if I start dating a man, it’ll be very awkward (to say the least) if I explain this Manbbatical to him. I mean, guys- what would YOU think if you went out for dinner or drinks with a potential girlfriend/lay & she told you about something like this? Beyond feeling like a champion of being the 1st to get “in there” again- I can imagine that paradoxically, you might think the woman’s a complete weirdo, or put an unnecessary burden on yourself to be “good”. When I look at it this way- I think it might actually be a good idea to just sleep with a man that I’m attracted to & I think I stand a chance with- one that perhaps I ALMOST/WANTED to sleep with this year… Like MAGIC TRICK, SPICY SAUSAGE or CREW. I’m not even sure they would, but they might. I wouldn’t even consider HIM at this point, (not that he would have me anyway) but it would be too painful. It’s taken me quite some time to move past HIM & I’ve got zero interest in revisiting THAT shit-show.
I should tell you that I realized with great anxiety & apprehension yesterday that I’m going to have to tell everyone when I actually DO IT. It feels weird to know that I’ve made this decision to write about it & put it out there for the Internet world/AKA THE WORLD to read. So what, After May 18th, I post about the dude that boned me? Then I go about my daily activities & anyone who reads my blog will know what I’ve done? It feels weird & creepy. Its one thing to tell jokes about it on-stage or even write about PAST experiences, but to announce that I just got laid? How will my partner feel about that?
Many people think I can’t wait to have this project done with- but the closer the end line becomes, the more I realize that maybe I haven’t thought this all out in a cogitative way.
Meanwhile, I’d like to dream about my new crush & not old friends. At least then I might get to sleep instead of agonizing about my sex-life after May 18th, 2011.

Nothing Stays The Same

2011-04-18T07:04:00.000-07:00

"the young become the old
and mysteries do unfold
for that's the way of time
no one, and nothing stays unchanged
there are not many things in life one can be sure of
except rain comes from the clouds
sun lights up the sky
hummingbirds fly"

Nina Simone, Everything Must Change

Listen to me this afternoon on 102.1fm THE EDGE in Toronto, as I chat with Fearless Fred- re-capping this past month...

ONE. MORE. MONTH.
I can’t believe it. Like everything else I look forward to in my life, I contemplate & scrutinize this fact with excitement & dread.
I can’t WAIT to have sex again- even just to kiss, to be touched, to talk late into the night- to be intimate. I cannot imagine who it will be with or when. I’m not crushing on anyone- that for me feels extremely weird. Obviously there’s a plethora of dudes that I love, but I’m sure are bad ideas, or a relationship with him should never come to fruition.
A big part of me feels I’ve been hiding behind the Manbbatical for the past 11 months. Though it’s been difficult to be alone, at least I could chalk it up to the project. It was a decision. Sitting alone in my apartment at night, or in a hotel room, or on Sunday mornings reading the paper by myself- it was all a choice. If a man (or woman) told me he/she was interested in me (& I didn’t feel the same)- I used the Manbbatical as way to deflect that painful conversation. When things didn’t work out with HIM- though I know he lost interest in me for several reasons & it was never going to work out anyway, I could use my he-tox as an excuse. All of the attention I’ve received from the press, writing, even my comedy (mostly) is due to my dick-diet. It’s almost over. My life will return to normal.
I don’t expect my career & spirit to revert to what it was overnight on May 18th, 2011. I know my faithful readers & those who have invested in the project in any way will want reports on how my life has changed since my man-less pilgrimage. I know overall my energy & existence will be changed from the lessons I have learned (or will learn when the information & teachings set in, in due time). I definitely have a clearer understanding of what I want (& more importantly, what I DON’T want). I feel I have a deeper awareness of what I deserve, what’s out there, & what I’m capable of since taking this (more-or-less) full year of focusing on myself.
I have much to be grateful for: I accomplished many/most of the goals I had set for myself. I lost the access weight that was making me feel self-conscious about my body (though I still have work to do in the confidence department), I’ve learned what it means to buckle down & work hard every day (& what that means/can do for one’s career), I understand that even when you work hard in the right way & desperately want something- it may not always be granted to you.
I’ve also gained a new respect for sex & intimacy. I genuinely thought this whole undertaking would open my eyes to my life as an independent woman. I never really anticipated how much it would have me examine my sexuality. What I use it for, & what it means to me. It means A LOT to me. I know that sounds absurd- how could I not think that this assignment would shed light on my sexual drive? I mean, I knew it WOULD- just not to such a degree. I really thought it would be all about my focus on my career, dating, health, etc… I might not have noticed how horny I am if it weren’t a choice. It’s like when you forbid yourself fried food… I’ve never missed french-fries more than when I’m dieting. If poutine or pogos aren’t around on their own, I really don’t think about them.
This last month of the Manbbatical means more to me than any other with the exception of (maybe) the 1st.
That 1st month I thought I might DIE… I thought I was in love with MAN-X & I could not have had the foresight to understand how quickly & remarkably things change. I didn’t want to like him. Now I’ve got no apple of my eye, & THAT makes me nervous.
As I said, everything changes. That said, when I fire off a text to BAIT about another comic that I LOVE, I feel like nothing at all has changed. But it has, & I have. I am different. & I will be even more so in another 4 weeks.

Blessings & Curses

2011-04-15T07:20:00.000-07:00

"What a feeling, bein's believin'
I can't have it all, now I'm dancin' for my life
Take your passion, and make it happen
Pictures come alive, you can dance right through your life"

Irene Cara, Flashdance

My sister CC & I were on the phone last night for over an hour last night. I was bawling my eyes out because I found out I didn’t get this stand-up special that I’ve been gunning for all year. We weaved in & out of her talking me off the ledge while we discussed my Manbbatical, which is very soon coming to an end. (It sunk in today when I bought eggs at the grocery store that expire the same week this project finishes.)
I asked her how she thought I could meet men outside of my comedy peers. She’s scared to introduce me to “nice” men, because she doesn’t think I’ve changed enough to give them a chance. She’s pretty convinced that I still only want to date “dudes in cardigans with big sunglasses who ride their bike around Parkdale”. She thinks I’m only attracted to poor artist-types who treat me like crap- because, according to her- they are “SO self-involved! I mean, look at what they DO for a living!” My sister is hilariously passive-aggressive without even trying. I honestly admire it- it’s a skill.
CC told me what was happening with the last guy she set me up with. Right after me, he met the girl of his dreams & now they’re married. I reminded her of what is tested and true: If you split up with me, your life will flourish. Want your face on a billboard in Times Square? Want a starring role in a pilot? Feel like meeting your soul-mate? It’s easy! Just loose interest in me! We laughed because the dude SHE set me up with didn’t loose interest in me- it was the other way around. Either way, you end up more successful. Shit.
It got me thinking about getting everything you ever wanted. The guy that she had set me up with has a great job, a nice house & a bangin’ car. He told me the only thing that he was missing was romantic love. My sister said his wife is gorgeous & he’s madly in love with her. “So he got everything he ever wanted?!” I exclaimed while I thought about how nice that must feel.
I know some people who have everything they ever wanted. I think my mom is one of them. I mean, we have our whole lives, but it must be so weird to just look around yourself & think, “I did it! I accomplished everything I said I would & it all paid off!” I wonder if I’ll ever have that feeling. I wonder if it’s just because I still have a long way to go, or that I’m never satisfied. Maybe it’s because everything we/I want changes as life goes by.
I had a good talk with BAIT today. We were talking about our dreams & our goals, & how many we’ve been able to achieve. I’ve always tried to believe that a fine trifecta of talent, hard work & patience pays off in the end. I really don’t want to be proved wrong.
What is it that I’ve always wanted? I’ve always wanted to own my own home (right now I pay rent in a tiny apartment). I’ve always wanted a family of my own (right now I couldn’t be further away from THAT goal, obviously. Except for my cat STINKY. She’s mine & she’s THEE BEST EVER). I’ve always wanted to be a performer & make a living while doing so (I AM making a living doing so- albeit quite a meager one). I’ve always wanted to be of healthy mind & body (a constant struggle, especially since I’ve had many health issues- but I’m getting there). I’ve always wanted to have a great support system- surrounding myself with people I love, who challenge me, & support me (really no complaints in THAT category- I couldn’t ask for more in that regard). I’ve always wanted to be someone who is good- someone people can trust, who makes honorable decisions, who is kind, open-minded & forgiving. PLAYA & I were talking the other day, & she told me I was one of the most forgiving people she’s ever known. PLAYA & I rarely get all mushy & sentimental, so didn’t tell her that may be the most thoughtful thing she’s ever said to me. I’m no bible-thumper but I do like Jesus’ outlook on how to treat others. He’s a pretty great role model in that regard. The whole dying-on-the-cross thing is a bit much for me, but I’m all for turning the other check & rooting for the underdog. It’s not for nothing I was a Mets fan (as opposed to a Yankee fan) when I lived in NYC. You are WELCOME, Jesus.
I suppose I should be proud (although Jesus isn’t so into pride- though I think he would LOVE gay parades. Who doesn’t? Losers, that’s who…) that I keep striving to attain what I long for. I really am giving it my all right now. I know I can always try harder, but I’ve been pretty fucking committed this year. Yes, I’ve slipped up- but who doesn’t? I’m far from perfect. Like, SUPER far.
But I’m trying. I’m really trying. I have hope that someday I’ll be able to say I got everything I ever wanted. It never comes to fruition the way I think it will, but eventually I’ll have it all.

Le Mo Neacht óg...

2011-04-13T12:13:00.000-07:00

I had to write the whole song, because I love it, it's got my name in it, & it's so fitting. Skip it if you just want to read the post below.

"Clair, the moment I met you I swear
I felt as if something somewhere
Had happened to me
Which I couldn't see
And then
The moment I met you again
I knew in my heart we were friends
It had to be so
It couldn't be no
But try as hard as I might do I don't know why
You get to me in a way I can't describe
Words mean so little when you look up and smile
I don't care what people say,
To me you're more than a child
Oh! Clair, Clair
Clair, if ever a moment so rare
Was captured for all to compare
That moment is you
It's all that you do
But why in spite of our age difference do I cry
Each time I leave you I feel I could die
Nothing means more to me than hearing you say
I'm going to marry you
Will you marry me Uncle Ray?
Oh! Clair, Clair
Clair, I've told you before
Don't you dare
Get back into bed
Can't you see that it's late
No you can't have a drink
Oh! all right then but wait just a bit
While I, in an effort to baby sit,
Catch of my breath what there is left of it.
You can be murder at this hour of the day
But in the morning this hour
Will seem a lifetime away
Oh! Clair, Clair"

Gilbert O'Sullivan, Clair

I wish I could tell you how much I love you, but you’re only 7 months old & you don’t understand English (or Irish). I don’t think you really understand emotions, either- although you’re so very good at expressing them. Maybe you can speak, but you’re holding out until you have something important to say. I could learn from you.
I haven’t known you for very long, but I can tell you straight up that you are by far my favorite person on planet earth. When I’m with you- when I’m babysitting & it’s just you & I, it’s the happiest I can get. You make me laugh without trying, & my heart feels like it’s going to burst with joy when your chubby little pink arms wrap around me. When you play with the dog, it’s so cute I feel like I need to smash my fist through a wall before I explode from delight. It’s the only extended period of time when I don’t care about men or my non-existent love life, my depleted bank account, how fat or gross I feel, my frustrating career, personal politics, or anything else that I usually dwell on. When we play with your blocks, watch Max & Ruby, or I swing you in the air to make you feel like you’re flying; whether I’m feeding you or simply watching you sleep- I don’t care about what sucks about life. You bring me the kind of solace that is almost impossible to come by. I don’t like just any baby, by the way. Just so you know, it’s YOU that’s special to me. You’re beautiful little face lights up the room & you’ve brought more love & life into our big family that we haven’t seen in a long time. We always had good times & lots of love, but you really brought it to a whole new level. Personal beefs have been put aside, because it’s so important for us to be a part of your life & we needed you to show us what’s important.
It’s weird that you’ve only been on this planet for such a short period of time, & that you’ve taught me so much already. You make it so that I’m not worried about what’s happened, or what’s to come. I want to squeeze you & kiss you all over, your little tummy & plump little feet are by far the most beautiful thing I’ve seen. I’ve traveled around the world & been exposed to beautiful art, food, people & places, & nothing compares to your blonde tufts of hair styled in a sparkly barrette. Your crystal blue eyes & rosebud mouth take my breath away, & quite frankly I resent having to travel so much for work since you came to be, because I always want to spend time with you.
Sometimes life stinks, my little bumbalina. Like today: rejection on every level, not just from my career or men but also my pants that won’t do up because apparently I can’t stop eating cheese, fries, gravy, burgers & milkshakes. It’s raining out, I feel lonely, scared, depressed & flat-out awful. I’m sick of writing, I don’t feel like telling jokes, I’m this close to throwing up my hands when it comes to auditioning. I had such a fantastic week last week & finally began to cultivate the fruits of my labor, & this week I feel like a gigantic coiling steaming pile of shit. Sorry, bumba. I shouldn’t use foul language in front of you. You’re mummy & daddy wouldn’t be impressed.
I just wanted you to know, that of all the wonderful things that have happened for me this year, you are by far the most exciting- the most magnificent. Sometime I hate everybody & mostly myself, but when I think about you (let alone hanging out with you) everyone & everything seems better. And they really ARE better. You’re the greatest thing in my life, bumbalina. No pressure- you don’t have to do anything, & I don’t expect anything from you. You just keep being who you are & watch my love grow. It feels like it’s reached it’s peak, but each time I see you (even if it’s a still-shot or on Skype) I love you more than I did the day before.
So thank you, my love. Being related to you, knowing you, & paling around with you has been the happiest I’ve ever been. I promise I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe & happy.
Just promise me you’ll do as I say & not as I do, okay? I’ve known your mum (my sister) all my life, & she’ll murder me if I lead you astray. But I’d never do that to you. I love you too much.
All my love always & forever,
Auntie Clairey

The Overlook Hotel

2011-04-10T01:23:00.000-07:00

"Floaters in my eyes
Wake up in the hotel room
Cigarettes and lies
I am a child, it's too soon"

Regina Spektor, Hotel Song

So often (on the road) I stay in disgusting, murder-ridden hotel rooms. More than once I have sent picture texts to BAIT showing her mysterious blood spatters on my walls, or a bucket of half eaten chicken wings left hidden in my shower. We get a kick out of it & giggle, & as I go to bed I pray for my life. I always send BAIT another text upon checking out to let her know that a molester, thief, or bedbugs have not attacked me. Sometimes, I get to stay in really nice hotels. Like last weekend, & this week. The lavish surroundings soften the blow of homesickness. I take baths, spread myself across the entire bed (at home I still only sleep to one side- out of habit) wear the plush hotel robe, & sometimes treat myself to an $8 bag of chips from the mini-bar because apparently I have money & no fat to burn. I love feeling like a princess & usually I don’t mind not sharing it- but lately it feels like I’m wasting these great rooms. I feel like they’re made for romance- not me in my sweat pants before/after work watching Golden Girls, or various murder shows- real and/or fake, shoving pancakes &/or wine in my face still tucked into my crisp white sheets.
I’ve always loved being in (nice) hotel rooms with boyfriends. I don’t know why it makes me feel like we can do things we wouldn’t do at home. In fact I find if there ever were a lull in my sex-life while with a (long-term) partner, spending a night or two in a hotel would add some needed fuel to the dwindling fire in the bedroom.
Today I was out & about in Winnipeg & upon returning to my room I felt terribly lonely. Maybe it’s because I’ve met so many awesome, hot, hilarious men on this trip & they’re all gay or married. All I wanted to do was be with someone in my room this afternoon. Not even just for sex, but to hang out with & share this fantastic experience with (I’m in Winnipeg for the comedy festival & did my 1st ever gala TV taping. So exciting!). I just wish I could reap these fruitful benefits of my comedy labor with a loved one. I mean, I’ve been skyping daily with BAIT, my sister (& my little niece!), my mom, dad & stepmom but I mean with MY PARTNER. Although I’m having so much fun & learning SO much, I’m starting to feel old, alone & afraid. What if I never meet someone? All the good ones seem taken.
It’s a really exciting time for me right now, & the irony is that none of this would have come about sans the Manbbatical- but I would really prefer to be living through this with someone who loves me more than a daughter/sister/friend.
On a different note, my friend ARNOLD told me when he looks at my roster of ex-boyfriends, that according to him I’m out of their league. It’s something I’ve heard before. He & I couldn’t figure out why I choose men that either treat me like crap or simply aren’t good enough for me. I hope this pattern changes before the year is up. He was very complimentary without being creepy. He’s a gentleman, very loyal to his beautiful wife & becoming a good friend. He thinks there’s still hope for me.
I really hope that he’s right.

My High Double-Standards

2011-04-06T13:53:00.000-07:00

"Bitches ain't shit but hoes and tricks
Lick on these nuts and suck the dick
Get the fuck out after you're done
And I hop in my ride to make a quick run..."

Snoop Dogg, Bitches Ain't Shit

There’s something that’s been bothering me that I think I need to address. I know I’ve spoken about it in previous posts, but as the end of The Manbbatical draws near I want to be clear(er) about what I want/don’t want in a man/partner. Not really for you guys, but for me.
I know my act is really dirty. I know I talk about spluge, spit-roasting, meat-curtains etc… I also know that off-stage I like to joke around with my friends (mostly ribbing between myself, CUPCAKE, BING-BANG & MS.MET on Twitter) where we satiate the appetite for hilarity of our followers. Let’s face it. I’m pretty open in my blog about sex, have dirty discourse & sometimes a mind in the gutter. I’m always up for a good joke, but at the end of the day, I want to be treated LIKE A LADY by my man. It’s not really fair of me (I suppose) to get down on men who make perverted comments to me in hopes of making me laugh, but don’t do it if you’re asking me out on a date. I know I’m a comedian, but sometimes I want to leave my act up on stage where it belongs & be a normal woman while out with a man. That’s not to say who I am on stage isn’t who I am in real life- but it’s MY ACT. I’d like to be treated with the same amount of respect as any other girl. I know sometimes my job, my stature, or whatever else can intimidate men. I know when getting to know someone, you get nervous sometimes. I get that. I’m the same way, & although I may act confident, I never fully am. I’m not saying I need a horse-drawn carriage, but it would be lovely for a man to ask me out without talking about dick, or pussy, or whatever else. Is that too much to ask? I can see why men may think it doesn’t bother me because of things I say on stage- but it does. It actually kind of makes me feel like shit.
When HIM & I were spending time together, he pointed out to me that the only difference between HIM & some old perverted creep was that I wanted to sleep with HIM. He pointed out that anything he said to me sounded like a great idea because I liked HIM. But should any of those come-ons or seducement come from a man I wasn’t attracted to? Well, then THAT guy was a douche. It’s not really fair. But that’s the way it goes.
So thinking about all of this, & how much I want to treated with respect & kindness, I get home/back to my FABULOUS hotel room, to a saucy message from an American comic who I don’t know personally, but am a huge fan of. It was the kind of message that wasn’t charmingly sexy or flirtatious, but flat-out “offensive”. The thing is, it was really funny. & I love that guy. So I really loved his message & couldn’t believe he would even give me the time of day & wondered how he’d heard of me. So- how can I ask men to treat me like a lady when I don’t mean all of them? It’s not fair to say, “You’re not quite funny enough to make pussy jokes around me.” How can I be put-off & flattered by similar statements just because it’s coming out of a different mouth? I just feel like if you don’t know me, try to be polite. I would be with you. But I can’t bend the rules because I admire someone’s work. That’s ridiculous, & overall short-changing myself.
Meanwhile, that guy’s a comic.
Sometimes I really feel I’ve learned nothing.

The Fear

2011-04-04T12:58:00.000-07:00

"Welcome to my nightmare
I think you're gonna like it
I think you're gonna feel you belong
We sweat and laugh and scream here
'Cause life is just a dream here
You know inside you feel right at home, here"
Alice Cooper, Welcome To My Nightmare

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had the recurring dream that I’m in front of a massive crowd & expected to perform. Upon realizing the fate that awaits me, my throat begins to close out of anticipation. I have no idea what my lines are, or even what show I’m in. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be acting, telling jokes or singing. I’m scrambling asking other actors or comics & crew backstage what it is I’m supposed to be doing out there. I’m trying to explain to them that I didn’t prepare properly; that I meant to, but just never found the time. They’re shoving me onto the stage through the curtains & I’m franticly coming up with ideas on how I can entertain them, then realize I’m not sure if I should make them laugh or cry. The wrong guess could be career suicide! What if I start telling dick jokes & I’m supposed to acting out Shakespeare? What if I start belting out I Don’t Know How To Love Him from JC SUPERSTAR when I should be delivering a tearful monologue? I have no choice but to walk the plank. I always wake up in a sweaty panic just as the curtain comes up.
That paralyzing fear has taken possession of my body for the past week. Even during my waking life. I can’t tell if it’s the stress of my work or the approaching finish line of the Manbbatical. I also don’t really understand why I’m so afraid. I should be enjoying all that’s going on at the moment. I’ve been getting exactly what I wanted. I guess nerves are to be expected before a big show, & I’ll be grateful for them when they metastasize into a thick vein of adrenalin. It’s also weird to be so aware of the transitions I’m living through. I have no choice but to be self-scrutinizing when I’m blogging every second day about what’s going on in my sex-less life. It’s just strange to constantly feel like I’m examining my life like a specimen. But it’s habit now, & we all know how well I deal with breaking habits.
I’ve really been caught between looking back at what’s transpired over the past 10 months & 17 days, & what’s going to happen when it’s all said & done. It’s difficult to live in the moment & enjoy today for what it is. Those rare times when it occurs are so peaceful & worth the wait. When I’m on stage it happens frequently, & maybe that’s why I love performing. It’s sink or swim. It’s a shame that something that brings me such joy & stimulation in my conscious life & that which (barely) pays my rent terrorizes me as I sleep. I’m sure the stage in my dream represents something else & the anxious crowd another metaphor, but that familiar feeling of panic seeps into my everyday AWAKE life, like fumes through the vent & into my lungs to choke me. It’s a terrible feeling. I may not be able to control my dreams, but I can certainly contain my emotional response to the stress that I’m under/creating for myself. So that’s what I’ll do. I’ll stop worrying about what the next step is & wishing I could have done something differently. I’ll just try to do the best I can. That’s all I can realistically ask of myself. (Do I sound convincing? I’m trying to reassure my own self.)
Peacock thinks I am living in the moment. She thinks I’m focusing on my work & that the thing I need to realize is that I don’t need to put too much pressure on what happens at the end of the Manbbatical. She thinks things will work themselves out, & I need to have faith in that. (She was much more articulate & thoughtful when she said it, but that’s it in a nutshell.) See? This is why I loves me some Peacok.

The Joke Is On Me

2011-04-01T08:44:00.000-07:00

"Fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can't get fooled again."

George W. Bush

April 1st is my favorite day of the year. It always has been. It’s not a Hallmark holiday, & no one seems to take it very seriously. There’s no April Fool’s family dinner or long weekend, cakes or nostalgia. Everybody knows about it, though. It’s the day we’re allowed to prank people. It's the only day of the year dedicated to observing humor. Let me tell you something if you don’t already know it: I LOVE pranks. I don’t know if it’s because I’m French Canadian, but I love the shit out of pranks. When they’re funny & non-hurtful, I love committing them & watching them. My 1st partner in pranking-crime was my old friend SHANIQUA. In grade 7, our favorite Friday night activity was going through the yellow pages, & calling all of the Janet Jacksons in the book, asking to speak to their brother Michael. As I’ve previously mentioned- SHANIQUA now runs her very own, very successful PR company in California, has an amazing husband, (I stood up for her at her wedding) writes great blog (http://whatwouldgwynethdo.com/) & is the mother of two of the most beautiful children you might ever lay eyes on. Her Husband is equally as dope; is hilarious, a gentleman, unyieldingly supports his wife in all that she does & treats her like a queen. SHANIQUA deserves him, & wouldn't settle for anything less than the best. I’m proud to say we’ve been friends for 22 years. Her sister, LENGENDARY is also one of my best friends- & I don’t get to see either one of those women as much as I’d like to…
LEGENDARY (who also writes a blog which I suggest you check out: http://andistate.blogspot.com/) was in town this past weekend & I was reminded of why I love her so much. LEGENDARY is a woman of many talents, just like her sister. She runs one of the most successful talent agencies in Canada; she has an extremely keen eye with her cameras, is adventurous & is fun loving, grounded, hilarious & loyal. Like her sister, she is gorgeous & has a sense of style that would make Rachel Zoe proud.
You may be asking yourselves what LEGENDARY & SHANIQUA have to do with the Manbbatical, beyond being so close to my heart. I’ll tell you: each of these women is a wonderful example of how relationships can be amazing, & contrarily, how single life can be equally as fulfilling. LEGENDARY travels, wears beautiful clothes, has a great apartment in my favorite areas of one of my favorite cities (Montreal) has a tight, eclectic group of friends, runs her own business, (as I said) indulges in her many hobbies, & is always up for an adventure. In her “spare time”, she makes films starring some of this country’s most celebrated young actors & musicians. Upon visiting with her this past weekend, she brought me up to date on her romantic escapades in Paris, Amsterdam & London over the past few weeks. Hot damn, that women’s got it all. And don’t think it fell in her lap. She’s worked her tight little ass off for everything she has. These sisters has never been ones to sit around & wait for divine intervention- I learned the meaning of hustling & initiative from them. They are both INTERESTED, & that’s part of what makes them so interesting. Luckily for me- I still have a lot to learn from BOTH of them.
I’m scared for this project to come to an end, & I’m inching closer to the finish line. LEGENDARY & I talked about it quite a lot. What/who/if I should do anything/anyone, where I should do it, what I’ve done & what there is to look forward to. It’s all still very much up in the air. I’d like to think that I’ll hold out for something “real”. After over two decades of friendship, I know LEGENDARY will support any decision I make, but not without offering up her (very strong) opinion- I always know exactly where she stands, she never pulls her punches. I’m still trying to figure it out, all of the while attempting to “live in the moment” & enjoy the end of this crazy ride for what it is.

PS. I'm counting down the years until I can teach SHANIQUA's kids the value of pranking their mother. Happy April Fool's everyone!

Guest Post #2/ Love, Empowerment, Misery

2011-03-30T07:39:00.000-07:00

One of my very best friends Perdita Andrews, writes a fantastic blog called http://www.365fashionrehab.com/ Her & her best friend- self-proclaimed shopaholics- (who have AMAZING style, BTW) quit shopping for a full year. It was their project (along with several other year-long stunt-non-fiction assignments: The Happiness Project, The Year of Living Biblically, Julie & Julia, etc…) that inspired MY project. Perdita is not only one of the most loyal, down-to-earth, honest, witty, beautiful women you might ever meet- but she’s also a supremely talented writer. I’m so lucky to call her my friend. She wrote a guest post for me, & I’m so happy to be able to share it with you…

A year and a half ago, my best friend, A and I embarked on a project that I now see as a blessing, but at the time seemed like sheer lunacy. After taking stock one night over dinner, we came to the realisation that we were not where we thought we’d be by this time in our lives. Where was the house? The car(s)? The stable career and reliably mounting RRSPs? Once the initial shock of having none of these traditional assets wore off, we had our answer. Where was all that stuff we thought we’d have by now? It was hanging in our closets. After shopping together for almost twenty years, cultivating our addiction slowly, deliberately, suddenly it seemed there was no other solution for two self-professed shopaholics: we would give it all up and go cold turkey for one whole year. On that night over pan-Asian cuisine and one too many bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, 365 Fashion Rehab was born.

365 Fashion Rehab and The Manbbatical are not that different. Of course, there are the obvious similarities: giving something up for the same finite amount of time, but if you really think about it, is romance/love/sex that different from shopping? As far as I can see it, there are only two major differences between The Manbbatical And 365 Fashion Rehab. The most obvious one is the rules. A (my Rehab Sister) and I spent many an hour crafting the rules to our rehab, and while there were many debates (Magazines? Books? And what about running shoes – they’re shoes yes, but I don’t want shin splints along with all the other pain this project will inflict on me!), within the parameters of our project lay 3 simple regulations: No clothes. No makeup. No accessories. A far cry from the 10 commandments if Claire’s Manbbattical.

For 365Fasion Rehab, we always said we didn’t want it to be an act of deprivation. We wanted to shock ourselves into better future buying habits, to rehabilitate our shopping ways and reform our shopaholic-selves into conscious shoppers. The Manbbatical most certainly is an act of deprivation. But that’s where the differences end. Clairey and I (and A) both knew we needed to make a change, a drastic change to the everyday-ness of our lives for our own good. We both knew we needed to curb our addictive tendencies. Men, clothes, qu’est-ce que c’est le difference? (Sorry, dudes.) Love and shopping can fill many of same voids: validation, competition and the ever present, ever-perplexing self-esteem. And, they’re both fun and exhilarating, inspiring and fulfilling, and one hell of a great distraction on a bad day.

I have survived my year of going without and can honestly say that I am a changed woman. Some of the changes were swift and obvious, but some of the lessons are still trickling in. What did my project mean to me, at the end of it all? Three words: 1) Love – Yes, I said it and I meant it. LOVE! Though Claire may be forsaking romantic love just as I forsook my (obsessive) love of 50% sales, she has spoken/written more than once of the love that has flourished between her and her family and her magnificent group of friends – I am lucky to be among them (I’ll never tell you my Manbbatical alias, ever). When I gave up shopping, I actually got something pretty fantastic: almost daily communication from my best friend who is many time zones away, living a very different life than me. Offer me a lifetime supply of Saks 5th Avenue gift cards or her and I wouldn’t even blink. Okay, I might blink, but I’d choose A every day and twice on Sundays. I am a better person for having known her.
2) Empowerment: this is true on so many levels. The empowerment of taking your life into your hands and fashioning (pun intended! – god, I am such a word nerd) change, empowering yourself with the knowledge that you don’t need a man or fabulous pair of six inch Louboutins to prove you are an amazing friend/daughter/sister/mother/woman (I am still learning this one).
And finally, misery. During the 12-months of Fashion Rehab people would frequently ask me how I was doing or how the project was going and my answer was always the same, “Great! I’m miserable, but it’s great!” and that was the truth.

Claire is so far gone, there is obviously no turning back now, and though she has broken some of her rules along the way, that doesn’t really matter. The experience is hers and hers alone and what she’ll get out of it, only she will know for sure. I know what I learned and what I am still learning. In the meantime, I’ve got some shopping to do – just because Clairey can’t play with boys doesn’t mean she can’t play with a new bag! (Get your minds out of the gutter toute suite. I am a lady!)

Love, P

Virgins & Other Mythological Creatures.

2011-03-29T13:03:00.000-07:00

They say that time flies when you’re having fun & unfortunately, that’s the truth. I’ve got 49 days left, & because of everything that’s been going on, (doing press, comedy shows, traveling, writing, etc…) I feel like the remainder of my dick-diet is going to pass me by at record speed. People keep asking me what my plan is for May 18th 2011, & my answer is still (unfortunately) that I really don’t know. Readers & press have asked me if I’m going to keep up the blog after I’m done, & I’ve decided that I will. I think it’s important to keep track of what ‘s happening the YEAR AFTER the Manbbatical- basically to determine how my he-tox has affected me in not only my dating, but also my everyday life. Besides, I feel like many of my regular readers have invested a little something in my story, & it would be unfair of me to say sayonara May 19th, 2011. Don’t you want to know HOW it all turns out? Aren’t you curious to see who & how it all goes down when I finally CAN have sex? I know I AM!!! I don’t think- after having chronicled my journey so faithfully & openly- that I could just STOP. So, I won’t. Besides, I think I would miss it! This project has been the biggest part of my life since I started. It’s on my brain all the time, & this year 75% of my work has revolved around it. In fact, whenever I get interviewed for my COMEDY, (& it’s NOT about my blog) I feel weird. I’ve poured my heart & soul into this blog, & I can’t really imagine getting through the follow-up year without it. I’m afraid I might lose readers- because there's no stakes anymore- I’m scared it’ll be less interesting. I think people read this blog for all sorts of different reasons, (some can relate, some live vicariously through it, some people are curious, some are horny & like the sexy stuff I write, some look for advice, etc…) & I hope they continue reading. You have no idea how much I appreciate all of the comments, emails & advice I’ve received concerning the Manbbatical. The support has come from the strangest places & & I’m SO grateful for all of it. My friends & family have been unyielding in their encouragement.
I will tell you- I’m terrified for all of this to come to an end. I feel like it’s become a huge part of my identity. It’ the 1st thing people bring up when they see me (95%of the time). I feel like I don’t remember how to date or how to deal with men. I feel like a virgin in high school, all nervous & disconcerted. I do feel I’ve acquired a new outlook on my possible future relationships, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to activate it. If I do stick to my not-dating-comics rule, how will I meet men? I’ve seriously been considering on-line dating- many of my friends do it- but the idea makes me nervous because I’ve never actually followed through with that, before.
I remember my mother’s 1st date after her & my father split-up. She had only ever been with him since she was 16 years old, & at 55, had to grab the world by the ballsack & get out there & start dating. She married that 1st date this past September. She scored- her husband is a wonderful man who adores her. She deserves it. I’m not trying to compare my journey with my mother’s, (OBVIOUSLY) but she was terribly nervous to get out there again, & I can very much relate. I can’t even IMAGINE what it’s going to be like for ME, at this point.
Who knows? It might take another 365 days before I get laid, again.

Dearest Patti Stanger... Help Me.

2011-03-27T13:48:00.000-07:00

"Matchmaker, Matchmaker,
Make me a match,
Find me a find,
catch me a catch
Matchmaker, Matchmaker
Look through your book,
And make me a perfect match"

Fiddler On The Roof, Matchmaker

Dear Patti Stanger,

I watch your show. I love your show. I love your tough-love, no-bullshit, call-it-like-you-see-it attitude. I dig your staff. Mostly, I need your help. You need to know that 1. I live in Canada (though DYING to move to LA) & 2. I SO cannot afford you. I am the opposite of a millionaire. More like a hundredaire.
In case you don’t read my blog, let me catch you up about whom I am, what I do, & who I’m looking for.
On May 18th 2010, I gave up dating for a year. The basis for the project was that I clear my head about dudes, & focus on myself: my work, my self-esteem, my body, & my heart. So far, I’ve lost 35LBS, have considerably advanced in my career, nurtured my friendships, & learned the value of real commitment. Unfortunately, my self-esteem had escaladed to a point where if a man told me I’m funny, smart or pretty, I would go out with him. I’ve had a few longish-term relationships (2+ years) & have lived with 2 men. I have a really open mind, almost to a fault. I’m a horrific judge of character, & were it not for the keen eye of my close friends & family (this is why I NEED you!), idiots’d surround me. Most of my life I’ve let men treat me like a steaming pile of shit, but I THINK, finally, at thirty-four years old, that I’m willing to get who I deserve. I think you are the woman to find him for me.
I’ve dated many types of men: wealthy, poor, famous, infamous, tall, short, Black/White/Asian/Middle Eastern, fathers, Jewish, Catholic, Muslim, dicks, sweethearts, hotties, not “typically” hotties, mostly show-business, sometimes corporate & some women after too many cocktails (I’m not gay- usually. I just love to love). I guess it’s fair to say I don’t really have a “type”. FYI, not sure if this matters, but I haven’t slept with a lot of men I’ve dated…
I’m a stand-up comic, an actor, a writer & I used to sing (now I only sing for fun…). I travel A LOT for work, & my life is the furthest thing from glamorous. I live in a tiny (but cute) apartment, drive a car that may break-down on any given trip, live below- but still with élan- the poverty line, love & live to make people laugh. I can’t date a man who’s poor again- I absolutely do not need a man’s financial support, but because I struggle so much myself with my own finances, I simply cannot take on a partner who shares/doubles that suffocating stress. I’m not saying I need a millionaire, but I sure as hell wouldn’t turn one down if he were nice. In my youth I never thought I would care how poor a man was, but I’ve lost some of that idealism/Pollyanna-ness-ninity after I turned 32. I actually wrote a post a while ago about what I’m TRULY looking for & you can read it here: http://tinyurl.com/6yuuc58
I understand that what I do can often be intimidating to potential boyfriends. My act is pretty dirty- I talk about sex very openly & frankly. I have a big presence. My secrets are all laid out on stage & in my writing. There’s little mystery about me, unfortunately. Pretty much what you see, is what you get. It can be a real blessing, & a real curse.

Shit. I’m watching your show right now, & you just told one of your clients that dudes don’t want a sexually aggressive women/women who talk about dick & pussy. You should know- though I do that for work, I’m very feminine. I like being treated like a LADY. I like romance, & kindness, but a man with balls. (That said I dated a man who had testicular cancer & had an orchiectomy, & that’s fine. I obviously mean balls in the figurative sense.) I guess at the end of the day, I just want a man who is secure, kind, funny, strong & who loves me unconditionally. Do you think he’s out there, Patti?

I should tell you other stuff I know you need to know: I’m 5’9, a size 8- not skinny but not overweight, I’m kind of doughy in the middle (but working on that), have long brown hair, green eyes & have that classic Italian/French/Irish look. You know the one… I’m fluent in French & English, I love to travel, I read a lot, love all kinds of music (classical, hip hop, country, rock, jazz, etc…) love making & watching GOOD films (shitty films suck) am spiritual but not religious, love going to watch sports (mostly baseball) am pretty obsessed with comedy, adapt quickly, & rarely get nervous for anything else in life beyond performing. I’m a bit of a shit-disturber, but it’s all in good fun.

What do you think Patti? Do you think I’m helpless? I want to settle down in the sense that I want a partner & my own family. What would you say to a woman like me? My year of abstinence is nearly over. Where do I go from here?

Sincerely,
Claire Brosseau

Goodnight Moon

2011-03-25T02:56:00.001-07:00

I can’t sleep through the night, anymore. In fact, when I get to sleep at all lately, I feel pretty lucky. I don’t know when this terrible bout of insomnia began, but I’m really over it. Nothing in my life has drastically changed in the past two months, (omitting heartbreak) I drink the same amount of booze, smoke as many joints & cigarettes as I always have, have 1 cup of coffee a day, exercise regularly, eat relatively healthfully, drink a lot of water… I’ve tried reading, writing, watching TV, staring at the ceiling, reciting the alphabet backwards… I’ve tried hypnotizing myself, meditating, listening to white noise/waves crashing. I JUST CAN’T SLEEP. It’s making me crazy- you know? Like when Nancy in A Nightmare On Elm Street can’t go to sleep & she starts going bananas? That’s me.
My sister’s never needed much sleep. She’s always been active & hard working, & seems to be actified by a mere four or five hours. Not me. I need a solid eight & I’m not going to lie- I do enjoy cramming in a ten or eleven hour-long snooze when I can. I LOVE sleeping. I love it, & I’m good at it. I can cuddle with the best of them, or I’m happy to leave you to your side. I like cats and/or dogs to lie in bed with me. I love that state between awake & asleep (kind of like The Matrix, in a non-scary way) when I’m half-dreaming/half-awake & anything is possible (which was the whole point of The Matrix).
I don’t fare well without sleep. I get very moody & usually sick. My whole immune system seems to shut down. I get feverish & lethargic. I stop making sense & become emotional quite easily.
Maybe it’s stress, although I try to make my way to bed with a clear, happy mind. I’m anxious about some big shows I have coming up, I’m unhappy with a close friend of mine right now, I’m drowning in a financial shit-show, I’m worried about what’s going to happen after May 18th, am struggling to get along with my father the past few days & I’m still reeling from a broken heart. I suppose those issues could be the culprits. But we all always have stress- this is nothing that unusual or insurmountable. Perhaps all of these problems could be solved with a little rest. So I should be sleeping. Either way, I can’t seem to shut my eyes.
Unfortunately, whenever I can’t sleep the song, “I Can’t Go To Sleep” (Wu-Tang Clan) plays on a loop in my head. It’s like a blessing/curse.
I don’t want to start taking sleeping pills, because I could easily become (what I like to call) Fat Elvis, if I’m not careful. (I loves me some pills.) I’ve read self-help, novels, biographies, poetry & history books & nothing helps.
I’m just not myself because of it. A friend brought up an ex-boyfriend who I can’t STAND (there’s only 1! Hating 1 out of many isn’t bad, right?!) & I started seeing red immediately. I thought about my friend & I who aren’t on great terms & I started crying. I’ve even started stuttering again (not often, but often enough). It’s wasting me. I need sleep.
Sometimes I can see the moon outside my window, & I think about my friends who are far away staring at the very same moon. I think about mooning them. Then I think about what they’re doing, wonder if they’re happy, wishing that I were with them. It sounds cheesy, but I miss my friends who live in other places. Lately I’ve been especially missing SCULLY & QUEEN OF HEARTS- but lucky for me, I’m going to Vancouver in June so I get to see them! They’re both going through some trying times in their own right, & I’d like to be there for them, as they have always been for me. I doubt I’ll get much sleep in Vancouver… but I’m quite sure I’ll make up the hours of sleep with glasses of wine. Those are some great ladies.
What’s happened? Why can’t I get to sleep, lately? Why can’t I stay asleep?
Maybe if Dom Cobb showed up it would make it all worthwhile. I would have to insist that he have sex with me BEFORE stealing the secrets of my subconscious mind. Though there's not much to steal- I'm pretty sure it's all in the blog.

I Fought The Law And The Law Won

2011-03-23T08:52:00.000-07:00

"Fools fall in love just like schoolgirls
Blinded by rose colored dreams
They build their castles on wishes
With only rainbows for beams"

Elvis Presley, Fools Fall In Love

I’ve never been one for game playing when it comes to dating. I’ve got some manipulative tricks up my sleeve like anyone else, but they always seem to backfire when I whip them out. I’ve never been especially coy. I’ve always wished I played harder-to-get, left more to the imagination, waited longer to give all of myself away. My thing has always been, “Hi. I’m in love with you. Here’s everything I have to give you. Don’t worry about keeping something for myself- I won’t need it. I’ll just give it all to you.”
About 10-15 years ago, my mother bought me a copy of The Rules (that book that instructs women to hold back on everything until he’s monogamous &/or has proposed. It’s sort of the original He’s Just Not That Into You). I thought it was cute, but I would never actually use the book’s instructions. I kept the book in my bathroom for years as a conversation piece & some entertainment for my guests who used the can. About eight years ago, ÇA-RAGE & BAIT & I thought it would be hilarious to conduct an experiment. Our friend, THE PERFECT WOMAN tried out the rules on her boyfriend of (already) four years. He had always been on the fence when it came to commitment, often took her for granted, & rarely surprised her with romantic gestures. The week she secretly implemented “the Rules” he bought her flowers, called her twice as much, & paid her more attention than he had in years. I lost the book in my many moves over the years, & I didn’t much care to replace it- as I had only ever thought of it as a novelty book, a joke. Fast-forward a couple of years, when one of my besties TWINS & I sauntered down Bloor st. in Toronto. A few hours before, she had brought up those infamous “rules” again, saying that I might have something to learn from them. You can see it as a step-back for feminism or self-expression, or you can take a look at many of the success stories that come from women who’ve saved a little bit of themselves (I’m not just taking about sex, I’m talking about keeping your own life, not giving yourself away from date #1). Anytime I have even REMOTELY held back from presenting myself voluntarily without expecting any compensation (I’m talking men/dating only, here… ) things have worked out far better than when I behaved contrarily. As the two of us sauntered along, a book LITERALLY fell from the sky, right at my feet. I’M NOT JOKING OR MAKING IT UP. The Rules lay on the sidewalk at my feet, as if it cascaded from the heavens. I picked it up, leafed through it, & tried to hang onto the advice I thought would help me. I still have the book, but it’s hidden as I’m not sure how I might explain it to men that spend time in my place. (I know I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, I just don’t feel like tackling THAT conversation with potential boyfriends…)
I was thinking about those Rules again the other day. I was perusing books on my eReader/bookstore & they “suggested” that I buy ALL Of The Rules (the newest copy, which includes Rules for on-line dating). I almost bought it, but I can feel myself tipping that self-help book scale in my bookshelf/eLibrary & I can’t bear to overdo it. Fast-forward to last night- me eating my rice, broccoli & fish, perched in front of my TV, watching “How I Met Your Mother”. Jennifer Lopez was the guest-star (it was a repeat) & played the author of a fictional book called “Of Course You’re Still Single- Look At Yourself You Slut!” which is basically a parody of The Rules & perhaps the answer to Neil Strauss's The Game. I couldn’t help but wonder why the universe keeps shoving the criterion of saying “no” that this book promotes in my face, in such a conspicuous way.
I spoke to a man I used to sleep with who called things off with us. I asked him (we’re “friends” now) what it was that changed, that he didn’t feel as attracted to me. Flat out he told me that I gave too much of myself away, too quickly. It angered me to the core- why can men give it all away, but we have to act modest & demure in order to be loved? It’s BULLSHIT! This is who I am, & if you don’t like it, then go fuck yourself.
But I’m beginning to understand a bit more. It’s not about self-effacement or protection, it’s about getting to know someone a little bit at a time, not throwing yourself at someone you barely know, & staying true to yourself- only giving yourself completely to someone when they actually deserve it. That goes for men AND women. It’s fun to save a little for later. It’s about pulchritude & sentiment. It can make everything much more exciting. It’s about the flame that burns the brightest, that doesn’t burn for long.
I want my flame to burn for a long, long time.

Withered Leaves & Flowers Growing

2011-03-20T12:15:00.000-07:00

"The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin'
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin"

Bob Dylan, The Times They Are A-Changin

I think it’s really appropriate that i began my Manbbatical in the springtime. Autumn has always been my favorite season- there’s something so bitter-sweet about it. The colors, the smell of wet leaves, the romance & wistfulness of circumstances coming to an end... The shorter days, & the impending chill seem lonely to me during those falls when I know I might not have anyone to cuddle up with during the long, cold Canadian winter. For some reason I’ve always sentimentalized those crisp, harvest days.
I never really give spring the eminence it deserves. Maybe it’s because I’m usually just so over winter by the time it arrives, I associate it with it’s blistery-cold friend & i just want them both to take a hike. Considering its’ temperatures are so similar to fall, I should like it. After all, sweater/t-shirt & jeans/flats weather has always been my favorite. Maybe its’ impending omen of re-birth & renewal scare me. But THIS spring is different. I can almost FEEL the earth turning on it’s axis, & though it may seem incredibly selfish, I took the supermoon last night as a good precursor of the big, shiny, beautiful things that are to come. Maybe I’m just really looking forward to getting laid. Maybe that pot I smoked last night was just that good. Either way, I’ll take encouragement wherever I can find it.
I actually forgot that today was the 1st day of spring, until I opened my eyes & checked Twitter this morning. As I buried my face into my kitten’s soft, furry stomach, I smiled. THE LAST SEASON OF THE PROJECT! It’s coming full-turn! Though it feels like the past 10+ months have flown by, so much has happened that sometimes I feel like I couldn’t have packed any more adventures into the past three seasons. Last year at this time I was 35LBS heavier, wasn’t yet headlining as a comic, wasn’t working on anything as an actor, I didn’t have a writing agent, I was lacking in the determination department, I wasn’t pro-active in trying to make my life better (therapy, gym, volunteering, etc...) & my beautiful little niece wasn’t yet part of my life. My focus was misplaced, & though I had so many choices & opportunities, I couldn’t quite figure out what road I wanted to travel. I was scared to set goals & genuinely try to realize my objective. I’m not sure if it was a fear of success or a fear of failure, but either way- I must have been scared of something... I have always had (& worked for) so many resources at my disposal. I feel like this is the 1st time I’ve categorically capitalized (or tried to) on them. It’s all always been there for me to use & develop, & I feel like I can finally see it- or at least I am beginning to.
I’m not sure if it’s the absence of a boyfriend that’s facilitated my concentration, but it’s undeniably improved since I began this project. I think it has more to do with the fact that I WANTED to change, so I just did. I usually try to complicate things- but it can be as simple as that.
Spring is seen as a period of growth, renewal & rebirth. It wasn’t intentional that I began my project during such a metaphorical season, but I did. (Oh, the poetry of it all!!!) Everything is/trying to/will be blooming passionately, and spring fever is beginning to crawl through my veins like I’ve just been started on an I.V. transmitting a cocktail of vigor & opportunity. You know in Great Expectations, when Dickens talks about that March day, when it’s summer in the light, & winter in the shade? I’ve always loved that image... it’s so true of springtime & of life. I like a little shade now & then- just as I like winter for certain reasons. Because just think of how unexciting the spring would be if we never lived through our winter.

Fool To Cry

2011-03-18T09:08:00.000-07:00

"To tell the truth I saw it coming,
The way, you were breathing.
But nothing can prepare you for it,
The voice, on the other, end."

LCD Soundsystem, Someone Great

I know it doesn’t make for interesting reading, but things are going pretty well for me at the moment. Work is amazing- getting ready to go to The Winnipeg Comedy Festival (http://www.winnipegcomedyfestival.com/) & got to be a guest on CTV’s The Marilyn Dennis Show (watch clip here: http://www.marilyn.ca/Shows/segment.aspx/Daily/March-2011/03_15_2011/Opening) I’m keeping fit, writing, performing, & generally happy. There’s just one thing: I can’t seem to relinquish my feelings for HIM. I was thinking about it, the other night- wondering how long it’s going to take me to move on. Am I still in love with HIM because I haven’t met someone else who turns my crank, am I so blindly smitten with HIM that good men/opportunities are passing me by, or do I just insist on punishing myself like a masochist? Unfortunately, it is my pattern to not be able to get over someone, until I meet someone new. That’s not to say I haven’t met some very interesting, hot men since HIM & I ended things. (Those of you who read regularly might remember my sexy Halifax night with CREW…- I’ve actually been contemplating flying to Hali on May 18th, just to finish what CREW & I started- provided he would have me.) I’ve had some crushes, too. I mean, really- if you know me at all, you know that I LOVE boys & I LOVE flirting. It excites me & I’m quite good at it. What’s that? Gross, you say? Meh, whateves. It’s true- it’s part of my make-up.
On an hourly basis, however, I think of HIM & my heart aches. I’ve had to stop reading his tweets (& those who mention HIM, telling HIM what a genius he is, & how much they love HIM.) I’ve stopped checking his Facebook page, & I TRY my best NOT to talk about HIM with BAIT, or anyone else for that matter. I switch TV channels when his face appears, I zone out when I see a random article on HIM, or his picture in a comedy club (like last night, a poster of his face/TV show stared me down as I went peepee at The Comedy Bar).
I know it hasn’t been that long that we called it quits on whatever it was that we had/hadn’t, but the grieving time is disproportionate to the amount of time we were actually together. It’s time to grab myself by the lady-balls & move the fuck on.
As I lay in bed last night, I thought about the men in my life I thought I might NEVER get over, but eventually did- despite my defying emotions. GOLDEN BOY was a real tough one. NO VICES was also a heartbreaker that kept me miserable for months (I’ve never really addressed NO VICES, but we dated when I was 29-30, & he was there the night I died: http://www.clairebrosseau.com/2010/12/life-death-of-claire-brosseau.html ). ALADIN was by far the worst. It took years to fully recover from that one. Those three really stand out as bringing me into the depths of misery. I thought I might never love again. In a way, I never did. Well, not in the same way that I loved THEM. Every love, & relationship is different.
It’s just so frustrating, because it’s such a waste of time to dwell on HIM. I’m very aware of all the reasons why he’s “bad” for me, I see all of the red flags (though I ignored them while I was with HIM), I know I deserve someone who’ll love me & treat me well… I know better than to love HIM. I know I’ll get over it, eventually. I just wish it would happen sooner than later. This feeling of suffering & unrequited love is really getting old.

Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot

2011-03-16T20:27:00.000-07:00

As the end of The Manbbatical draws near, more & more people ask me what I have planned for May 18th, 20011. Many of my good friends & family have weighed in.
From October through to mid-January, the plan was to be in LA & celebrate with HIM. That’s obviously not going to happen anymore. I was then going to go to LA anyway- because so many of my besties- GARY ST.KEVIN & his lovely GF, BAIT & her BF TIDY DISASTER, KABREL, MS.MET & ÇA-RAGE would all be there. I thought it might be lovely to have a nice memorial dinner with some of those who have been so supportive over this year… But because of a trip in June that I have to take, I can no longer afford the luxury of ceremonializing with my pals.
GARY ST.KEVIN (aware of my financial plight) suggested I throw a massive party & invite only dudes. I can’t really afford to throw a party, & that idea terrifies me on many levels. I’ve thought about going to Montreal, & hanging with some of my favorite ladies. That wouldn’t be so costly, & it would be fun as hell. (There are about 10 women I can think of right off the top of my head who are gorgeous, hilarious, loyal, fabulous women who live in La Belle Ville who I love to spend time with… don’t forget I used to live there. CELESTIE migrated here to Toronto with me. SAUCY MINX is on her way, & I can’t wait!) MS.MET has expressed that the “mature” thing to do would be to let it go by as any other day. When I explained to her why it was important to me to recognize the day on a more triumphant level, she understood. We also agreed there IS a possibility that if in my celebrating I drink too much; I may end up hooking up with someone. She reminded me, that “I can barely keep it in my pants while I’m on a fucking Manbbatical” Well played, MS.MET, well played. We both realize if that happened, it might be a shame. After all, isn’t that kind of thing I was trying to NOT DO anymore? At the same time, is it really so bad if I get my rocks off after a year of celibacy? Who cares whom it’s with? Maybe I should just get it out of my system, ruin some guy, & THEN try to be a normal person, again. Perhaps I should just have a nice dinner with my family. They have been SO generous & understanding through this whole thing. PUMKIN EATER thinks I should go on a trip, by myself. I LOVE that idea- but again, zero dollars = zero trips. CUPCAKE suggested we throw a party at her place. That would be really fun. My mom & dad think I should wait for a while to decide, before making any plans. Maybe I’ll meet someone & fall in love tomorrow. I would LOVE for Patti Stanger to set me up. I was thinking maybe I’d try her sex-after-monogamy-only rule. Oh, yeah. THAT’s when MS.MET reminded me that I couldn’t keep it in my pants…
So… what should I do? Seriously? Suggestions welcome.

Should Have, Would Have, Could Have

2011-03-14T04:48:00.000-07:00

"And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make."

The Beatles, The End

Although I always love to travel, (telling jokes, staying in hotels or with friends, seeing different cities or towns that are foreign to me...) I’m always glad to be home. My tiny Parkdale apartment will never be featured in Dream Homes Magazine, but it offers me privacy, access to all my own crap, my kitten Stinky’s company, my own bed & privacy. It also suggests a few quiet weeks of work, sleep, healthful dieting & gym-going. (It’s really difficult to stick to my non-dairy/wheat/refined sugar/red meat/corn/NUT restrictions & working out regime while on the road... I try to do the best I can, but when gas-stations & fast-food restos are all I have available, the task of keeping “fit” & slim” is arduous.) I rarely/never go out when I’m in town. The only places you might catch me out in the city are in comedy clubs, 1-nighters or open-mics, & maybe out for dinner with a friend (who is usually visiting from another place). Sometimes if I’m feeling really wild I’ll go catch a movie with PEACOCK. I’m just too broke & guilty to party. I feel like if I have the might or funds to go out, I should be on stage somewhere. So even though my life in Toronto is relatively quiet & boring (& productive) I make up for it when I’m on the road for work.

I was relatively/extremely (for me) well behaved in Alberta this past 2 weeks. I didn’t frequent 1 single strip-club (for some reason- perhaps because I’m usually on the road with men, we often up up with the rippers), didn’t do anything to devastate my reputation & didn’t even come CLOSE to even KISSING anybody. Well... maybe I came a little close. I will say that one of of the women who manages 1 of the clubs out west is very attractive & very gay. I’m no genius, but I think she was kind of into me- unless all of her flirting was in jest- but in my experience, when one is coming onto me whether in fun or more seriously, it all equals the same thing. She was very cute & I really enjoyed talking, laughing, working & drinking with her. I had quite a bit to drink on my last night there, & I was very seriously considering what it might be like to take things to the next level. I knew I couldn’t (because of The Manbbatical) but wondered what a little smooch with her might be like. I made my classic secret getaway at approximately 3am, for I knew if I stuck around things with me were going to get out of control. Again it made me question my sexual orientation, & my drinking habits. I told her that I’ve “tried” to be with a woman, & it didn’t grill my sexual cheese. She told me that I’ve simply never been fucked properly by a women. Well, that’s true. I told her that although I can be very attracted to women & often fantasize about them, when it comes down to it, my desire to be held & crushed & handled (all in good ways) by men far dominates my curiosity about females. The point is- I behaved, though our conversation was extremely sexual in nature therefor breaking a couple of rules. We also exchanged some pretty saucy texts...

How can I find who I’m looking for if I don’t really know who/what that is? I’ve realized in the past year throughout my dong-cleanse that when I set clear, specific & realistic goals for myself- I can achieve them. (I know! No one is more surprised by this notion than I...) Sometimes I feel like I have set goals for myself in terms of finding love after May 18th 2011, but I’ve done nothing but counter-act my success for that plan. I know one can’t really control whom they are attracted to, but look at the objects of my affection over the past 10 months. Comics, and/or celebrities. I’ve dated men in the public eye before, & it NEVER ends well for me. Couple that heartbreak with the fact that after the breakup, I’m forced to see their face on TV, films, gossip-rags/papers, billboards, etc. (Or if it’s a regular working comic, I run into them at clubs, in other cities, etc...) It’s silly & self-destructive & at this point, I’m asking for it. It’s mind-boggling to think that I can make such first-rate decisions in regard to whom I surround myself in terms of friends, but such noxious choices when it comes to boyfriends. STILL! I can’t say enough about how lucky I am for my friends... I don’t know what I did to deserve them, but when it comes to surrounding myself with platonic love, I feel I’ve hit the big time. (A big shout out to some of my newer besties, CELEBRITY REHAB & THE GUARDIAN who take care of me selflessly, make me laugh, don’t judge me, & are great to be with...)

For years I thought I had found “the one” in ALADIN. We made a fantastic couple in every way but his cheating heart. Even though he is engaged to another woman, I sometimes think of how my life would have turned out had we stayed together, & he’d been able to keep his dick/hands/lips to himself. There for the grace of “God”, go I...

I feel like I’m on a really great path towards success on many levels. Just not romantic love. I’m really good at giving it, I think. Perhaps not. You get what you give, right? Shit. I might be screwed, & not in the fun way.

Oh Dear, Bread & Beer! If I Were Married I Wouldn't Be Here!

2011-03-10T22:45:00.000-08:00

"Having a child is surely the most beautifully irrational act that two people in love can commit."

Bill Cosby

One of the reasons I was extremely hesitant about starting this project, is because I really want to have kids- and it would mean taking a year off of finding my potential baby-daddy. It might not seem like a big emergency to some, but as a 34yr old woman, I can feel my baby-fever burning up.
This isn’t a very popular desire among many female comics (not ALL, but many). Every time I hear of a female comic getting pregnant, I assume she doesn’t really want to pursue a career in stand-up, anymore. That may be unfair, but there’s no way I could keep doing my job the way I do now, & have a kid. I’m always on the road, always broke, & I work nights & weekends. When a woman has a more established career than I do, I assume it might be easier- but for where I’m at, it just wouldn’t work. At least, not the way I would like it to. (I’m not saying it can’t be done- it can & has & I can give you examples if you want- but I don’t feel like it.)
The fact that I’d like a family of my own is terrifying on many levels. I know people always say that “these days, you can babies well into your 40’s”, & I do have friends who’ve done so, but the chances are slim. After 35yrs old, you’re considered “high risk” & it’s a geriatric pregnancy. In the next 6 years, my chances of getting pregnant every month will plummet to 5%.
Beyond all of that, I don’t even have a BOYFRIEND, let alone a current crush (besides my still aching heart for HIM, which I’m hoping will cease. I can’t TAKE IT anymore!). What do I do when I begin dating, again? How long do you wait to bring that up, when you’re a woman of my age? I’m not saying I’m OLD. I’m not! If I want children however, I don’t have all the time in the world. That’s the problem with being in my age-range: men can take their sweet-ass time to decide if & when they’d like to start procreating, but WE HAVE AN EXPIRY DATE. It’s so frustrating…
I’ve seen many women get completely caught up with trying to get pregnant, & it can ruin lives & marriages. I don’t want to get absorbed in baby-fever. There are many things I want to do in my life, & so many aspects I already find so fulfilling & worthwhile. I never even WANTED children until I turned 30. I was SURE I would NEVER have any & very decided on being childless. Life can be extremely glamorous & exciting sans mini-people to drag around. I love my niece SO much, & at times I think I could be satisfied with just being an aunt- to be her shoulder to cry on, to laugh with, to teach her in my way- without having the gargantuan responsibility of being her parent.
But I want to have my own family. It might not sound “cool” or fit into my crazy life, but I want to be a mother. Many people will not understand this need, but many will. It’s something innate inside of me, that seemed to lay dormant & now is awake with a fury.
I’m not thinking about it all day everyday, but I do think about it, a lot. When I was with HIM, I could see what a great father he was, & it would make my ovaries go all aflutter. I would be lying if I said that (before my dick-diet started) when I had sex (although I always use condoms) I wasn’t secretly hoping a slip-up would happen. I’m sure some guys that MAY have wanted to sleep with me before reading this, will no longer want to get in my pants out of fear. That’s ok with me- then you’re not the man I’m looking for.
Look. I know I’m crazy, & my life is very unconventional… but I think I could be a good mother. I think I have it in me, & I have so much love to give. I wouldn’t be one of those women who are all, “this child is my greatest accomplishment” or “this baby is my best production, yet!”- no, I would sooner stab myself in the eyeballs with a fork. I just have a very strong avidity to make babies, & it scares/excites/fuels/confuses me. For a while I was ashamed to admit it for different reasons: not wanting to scare off men, not wanting to admit that I may want something traditional, not ready to say that I’m ready to make someone else a priority… but I admit it: I want my own family.
The catch is that I’m not really in any hurry- but my body says I am.
Man, how I wish my body & my brain could get on the same page, for once.

Beware The Ides Of March

2011-03-09T12:50:00.000-08:00

"At worst I feel bad for a while,
but then I just smile, I go ahead and smile."

Lily Allen, Smile
I’m a big fan of faking it until I make it. Whether it is on film, on stage, having sex, or being happy. I must tell you, I’m faking a lot lately.
I’ve been spending so much of this winter travelling. It was great with the warmth in LA, but lately I’ve been braving Canadian winters from coast to coast (well, coast to prairies). I hate the month of March. I’m SO over winter. I know I need to quit whining about the weather, but it’s REALLY depressing me. I’m so mad at my winter coat & boots, & all they ever done are to try & keep me warm. This is only the 2nd season I’ve had this coat, & I’m ready to rip it to shreds. It’s like a boyfriend who’s just too nice for his own good (in a no-backbone kind of way) & only wants to save you. He’s great SOMETIMES, but most of the time he’s just hard to fit in & an extra burden at the bar.
It makes it difficult on a cold Sunday morning, alone in a hotel room- when all I want to do is cuddle with a warm lover under the blankets. I promised I was going to MAKE SURE to have a love affair with myself over the next 2+ months, & am determined to keep that promise. So I’m slapping on a smile each time I go outside. It might be fake but it’s still pretty. Like a lady with massive boobie-implants.
The “fake it ‘til you make it” technique has always been one of my favorites. It’s really coming in handy right now. I’ll catch up with old friends who ask me how I’m doing, & I reply with an affable “GREAT! I’m doing great!” Before I fall asleep at night, I’ve been telling myself how lucky I am, how grateful I am, & think about all I have to look forward to. GOOD NEWS!!! Little by little, I’m starting to believe it. Every now & then, sinister thoughts try to squeeze into the positivity party in my brain: the “you’re 34 & you’ve done nothing” or “you’re lazy, that’s why you’re not happy with your body or your work” & my most reoccurring cameo, “you’re never going to find love & are going to die alone”. There’s a red carpet in my brain & those dark reflections are NOT on the list. They need to get back behind the velvet rope. I’m intent on forcing them out. I try not to acknowledge that kind of malignant scrutiny. Faking it until I make it.
I’ve faked orgasms. I don’t know why I do, & when I start having sex again- I’m going to stop that. You may think this is a contradiction to the mantra I’ve just talked about, but I will fake it (if I have to) until I have a REAL orgasm. It works a lot of the time. Maybe I’m just a good actress. Who knows? I’m good at tricking myself. I think it’s counter-productive to fake Os. Usually, the men I’ve been with want to please me. Sometimes I just want to get it over with. If I ever feel that way again- well, that should be a good indication of how I feel about myself, or my partner in that moment. If I’m dying for it to be over, then I probably shouldn’t be naked with this dude right now, & maybe ever. Sometimes it’s difficult to get my body jump-started in the sack. In that case, I think it’s good to perhaps add a few extra moans, & a little more excitement here & there. If it gets really sexy, sooner than later the cries of enthusiasm will be effortless. (OOOOOOH! I can’t WAIT for that, again!)
There are times when I really don’t feel like going to work. If I’ve spent the day furious or crying or simply upset, the last thing I want to do is perform for hundreds of people & try to make THEM laugh. However, it’s what I get paid to do. People paid to be entertained & I owe it to them to give them a good show. So I get on stage, & I fake it. It works almost every time. I’m sure everyone feels that way about his or her job on some days.
So, month of March… I will fake love you, until I do. Bring on the snow & the freakishly cold air. I will love the shit out of you. And you will believe me, because I will believe me.

The Belle Of The Ball

2011-03-07T11:17:00.000-08:00

"When there's no-one else in sight
In the crowded lonely night
Well I wait so long
For my love vibration
And I'm dancing with myself"

Billy Idol, Dancing With Myself

I realize the key to this whole project is to fall in love with myself. Even just writing that makes me want to barf. It sounds so cliché & new-agey. However, it’s the truth. If I can make that happen in the next TWO MONTHS, then I will feel good about what I’ve learned. I don’t mind myself so much, most of the time. For example, I just had a stellar private morning dance party in my hotel room. I like dancing with myself. I’ve never minded going to dinner alone, to the movies alone, & I certainly never mind having a glass (a.k.a. bottle) of wine by myself. I play “Jeopardy! “ by myself, & do quite well, if I may say so.
There is a difference in being able to be independent & loving yourself. (I’m not talking about masturbation, for you silly pervs out there…) Just because one may not mind spending time alone doesn’t necessarily mean they respect themselves. So that’s my goal for the next SEVENTY days.
When I get home (back from tour out west), I’m going to treat myself to the best date ever, i.e. movie, cocktails, dinner, maybe some live music, & sweet, sweet love-making with myself… I’ll dress to the nines, shave my legs (I’ll quit bragging), wear my most delicious perfume & get my hair & nails done. I’ll buy myself flowers & hold doors open for myself. You heard me: I’m not going to walk straight into a closed door. It is a DATE, after all.
I’ll act like a lady. I’ll put out when I get home, but only because I know myself so well, & have had sex with myself for a very long time. Beyond all of this- I’m going to be really KIND to myself. I’m going to stop treating myself like an abusive boyfriend would. I’m going to compliment myself & mean it. I’m going to stop blaming & crucifying myself for every little mistake. I’m going to be proud of my accomplishments without being an egomaniac. I’m going to work hard so I can give myself the best life possible, but enjoy relaxing & treating myself when I deserve it. I’m only going to say nice things about myself (except when I’m on stage) & mean it. I’m going to be loyal to myself & monogamous with only me. I’m going to be gentle with my feelings & always be honest. I’m not going to distort my thinking into anything negative, unless it’s really funny & it makes people laugh. Then I’ll explain to myself that it was for the sake of the joke, & no one will understand that better than I. I’m going to take care of & love my body. I’m going to be proud of my body. When I look at myself, I’m going to love what I see. I’m going to be the best partner I’ve ever had.
If I can manage to stick to this plan over the next 2+ months, it will revolutionize my outlook, my life.
Wish me luck. This is, after all, what I was supposed to be doing all along. It’s never to late to get back on track.

Men In My Life Or Life In My Men

2011-03-05T14:18:00.001-08:00

"No one to talk with,
All by myself,
No one to walk with,
But I'm happy on the shelf
Ain't misbehavin',
I'm savin' my love for you"

Ain't Misbehavin'

I’m in Calgary. I really like this city, but the weather right now is complete bullshit. It’s -19 outside, & I’m ready to pluck out my eyeballs with razorblades.
I’m here with MAN-X. Yes. Remember him? My unyielding crush from last year? We’re here in cow-town together. I was nervous to be here with him- I wondered if old feelings would re-surface, if it would be awkward (for those of you who don’t remember, when he broke up with his girlfriend I came clean to him re: my love for him & his alias was indeed MAN-X) but I really had nothing to worry about. Admittedly, the 1st few minutes at the airport weren’t the MOST comfortable, but that was just my own neurosis I’m sure. Because both of us have been on the road so much, I really haven’t seen him in months (in fact the last time I saw him was the night I met & fell in love with HIM, at The Canadian Comedy Awards...). I also haven’t seen him do stand-up in long time. I was also anxious about falling right back into love with him upon seeing his act again. The good news is I’m fine. I had a long talk with myself before I came here, encouraging myself to stop sexualizing talent. It’s really difficult for me to separate the two, but if I keep doing it, I’ll keep falling for dudes’ act, instead of the dude as a person. I think most of us try to be ourselves on stage, but the reality is, we aren’t our shtick. (That’s why it offends me when men talk dirty to me after a show- just because my comedy can be blue, doesn’t mean you can be disgusting with me. I’m a lady, & should be treated as such. For real.)
This issue has been the one that has plagued me the most over my dating years. Not only do I often make the mistake of defining who I am based on what I do (for work) I also do it with men. That’s not to say I don’t respect men with normal jobs who make an honest living, but it rarely turns me on. It has always been important to me that my vocation challenges me, teaches me, & fulfils me. I need to learn something new every time I go to work. I’m not saying that makes me better than those who go to work strictly to make a living. I just don’t understand it on a visceral level.
I know I’ve addressed this problem in several posts, but it’s been my toughest obstacle to overcome. I love watching people who are passionate about what they do, & always am attracted to talent- even when they might be thee worst possible partner for me. HIM is the perfect example of that. I need that imprinted on my brain, & my heart. Watching MAN-X this weekend, it was easy to remember why I liked him so much for such a long time. He comes alive on stage. It’s always fascinating to me.
For those of you who have warned me to behave this weekend, you have nothing to worry about. We’re having a good time at the club, & that’s that. I’m getting pretty comfortable being on my own & I THINK I’m starting to learn to respect myself enough to not drunkenly throw myself at men who don’t want me. I think it’s finally beginning to sink in that I deserve someone who loves me, will treat me well & who wants me.

The (Sexy) Woolgatherer

2011-03-02T05:42:00.000-08:00

“You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”

Dr.Seuss

Something weird is happening to me. It’s not like I’m having a sexual identity crisis- as I’ve said before (see: http://www.clairebrosseau.com/2010/06/man-has-penis-women-are-from-venus.html), I tried getting with girls before & it just wasn’t my bag (or lack thereof). So, I’m pretty sure I’m not gay. Most of my gay friends insist they have always been gay, & always knew. A very close girlfriend of mine, SIALIA only discovered she was into vaginas more than dink once she gave up drinking at 25 years old. I thought she was just confused because of her newfound sobriety, since she got laid & dated men like nobody’s business. But it’s been 13 years since she found her love of finger-blasting (&AA), & she’s never looked back.
To get over my broken-heart (re: HIM), I REFUSE to fantasize about HIM. In fact, I refuse to fantasize about any men that are toxic in my life. This includes past lovers, famous dudes, comics, actors, musicians, etc…) I realize sexual fantasies are harmless, & only exists to embellish & heighten our sexual feelings. I just know myself, & though I love jilling off as much as the next girl, I don’t even want my erotic daydreams poisoned by bad-boys. It’s just too close to home. If I can’t be at peace in my ACTUAL sexual life, then I at least need serenity in my fake one.
As I lay in bed last night, (my horoscope yesterday INSISTED it was going to be a very romantic night for me, so I knew CLETUS- my vibrator- & I were getting it ON) I was literally at a loss of who I needed to make-believe was there with me, turning me on. Only women were coming to mind, & only women were exciting me. Let me be clear: I find women’s bodies just as sexy & beautiful as I find men’s bodies. They are soft & round (generally) & capable of generating life, which is pretty effing impressive. Generally, I find women sexier at 1st glance than men. I get turned off when men are TRYING to be sexy. That’s why I hate dudes in porn and/or nightclubs. It grosses me out. You know what I find sexy? Tell me a funny joke, dude. Maybe take your shirt off, while you’re at it. Fix or build something. And keep taking your shirt off. Do something spectacular- invent or cure something. Throw a fastball. Turn my last $10 into a million. Oh! And keep taking your shirt off. Too generic &/or clichéé for you? Suck it- it’s MY fantasy.
It’s pretty rare that I just get turned on looking at any ol’ random peen. It’s not the same as when (many) men see an arbitrary set of naked titties & get an angry boner. If I’m all-naked with a dude, & we’re fooling around, & THEN I see his 1-eyed trouser-snake coming at me… well, obviously that gets me hot.
Maybe I’m really bad at fantasizing. Maybe I need to read more magazines, or meet more men. Or more women. I’m not exactly sure. Since it’s all just taking place in my mind, I guess I don’t really need to worry about it. Maybe when this (Manbbatical) is all over, I’ll switch to girls. I don’t think it really works like that, but it would be cool if it did. Imagine that was my problem, all along? I realize my issues aren't about determining my sexual orientation. I know it’s really all about my (low) self-esteem.
An old, now distant high school friend of mine told me she was gay a few years ago. I should have known because we played volleyball & soccer together. Just kidding. She said to me she didn’t expect to find romantic love with another woman (she is deeply religious/Catholic, & was always quite conventional) but that’s the way her life worked out, & she couldn’t be happier. She was in her late 20’s when she fell for her wife, & 10 years later, they are still profoundly in love.
Therein lay my issue whilst I build sexy castles in the air. It’s not about love it’s about sex. It should be the one time when I don’t have to worry about politics, discrimination, attachments, or body parts. It’s just a fantasy.
Jesus. I’m so neurotic in my conjured up boning-scenarios… it’s no wonder my authentic & existing romantic situation (or lack thereof) is so damaged.

High Fidelity

2011-02-27T07:41:00.000-08:00

"You shut your mouth.
How can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am Human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does"

The Smiths, How Soon Is Now

This weekend I was crying on my pal PUMKIN EATER’s shoulder about how I’m pretty sure I’ll never find love & end up alone. (Dudes find that sexy, right? RIGHT?!?)I knew I was being ridiculous & so did he when he said, “Claire- you’re had more boyfriends than anyone I know!” It often seems to me my life is a series of failed relationships, & I can never seem to forget how many times I’ve been dumped or heartbroken. I might have broken a couple of hearts in my dating life, but I usually get left. I can’t quite figure out what it is I’m doing wrong- but there’s obviously something about the way I am, which makes men leave.
The last few men I dated or slept with before I started this Manbbatical (VIDEO STORE GUY EXCLUDED) all ended whatever it was we were doing with each other. I argued with none of them. When they would finally admit why they called less or were less available, I agreed it was best that we break things off. I acted cool- no big deal. Inside I was dying. It happens this way every time. Sometimes I manage to escape without them seeing me cry, other times I’m not so lucky. I try my best to seem non-chalant about it all; of course we’re still friends & call me anytime you need anything. Then I go home, cry, & hate myself. I wonder why I’m not enough AGAIN, & why can’t anyone LOVE me?!? Then I’m mad at myself for being mad at myself. Aren’t I a catch? And why am I always feeling sorry for myself? That’s gross & boring. So I have bad luck dating! I have a lot of other aspects in my life to be grateful for- and should be more focused on, anyway. I feel like I’ve got some positives to offer. Some of my pals tell me I consistently chose the wrong men. I know that’s true- comics, actors, and musicians… Not to say men in those professions can’t be monogamous or committed, but the ones I’ve picked to give myself over to, haven’t been so with me. At some point, if you keep repeating the same behavior, you keep getting the same outcome- and you have to ask yourself why you never learn or change. Old habits die hard I guess.
Often throughout this project, I’ve felt like I’ve learned nothing- but PUMKIN EATER insists that I HAVE, & it may only sink in, in the years to come. I believe him. When I was in theatre school, I didn’t feel ready to graduate. I didn’t know how to apply the lessons I’d been taught to my work. I only got it later on throughout my professional career, & still to this day enlightenment seeps in from my Neighborhood Playhouse School Of The Theatre days. BAIT gets frustrated when I say I’m at a standstill in terms of my progression. She maintains that I’ve come a long way in terms of the way I deal with my feelings re: dudes.
I realize I’m not exactly painting a selling portrait of myself. I suppose any man who reads this post would recognize my self-esteem issues (if he hasn’t already!) & is foreseeing his boredom with THAT and ME. Yet we've all got our issues. You can call me "crazy", but I'm pretty god damned sick & tired of men throwing that term around with women. Especially when I've seen the ones that use that term- The kettle's phone is ringing, & it's the pot on the other end of the line.
Some of my ex’s are close friends of mine, now. EXCALIBUR is 1 of them. I asked him once, what the real reason was that he decided to end things with us on a romantic level- & he told me it wasn’t personal- obviously (since we were such good friends NOW) but he had JUST got out of a serious relationship, as well as there being no real spark between us. See… I thought there HAD been a spark between us. I must be crazy. Every time I think things are going well (in terms of my relationships), it turns out there actually not. How many times do I have to fail at relationships?
BAIT gets upset when I say things like that, as well. She says that referring to relationships as failures just because you’re not with said person anymore isn’t fair. Those relationships just didn’t work out the way we thought they might or hoped they would. Part of me agrees with her. But BAIT is also the kind of woman that men fall head-over-heels for. And so should they! She is one of the coolest ladies on planet Earth. That’s not to say she’s never suffered a broken heart. And I certainly hope she’s nursed her ticker back to health for the last time- I don’t wish love-sickness on my worst enemy.
I suppose love is complicated no matter what. Having it, losing it, fighting for it, missing it, NOT missing it, chasing it… A girlfriend of mine, QUEEN OF INFINITE WISDOM has been married for 15 years. She loves her husband, has never & wouldn’t cheat. I believe her, too. She admitted to me that she sometimes is envious of her single girlfriends who get to experience something/someone “new”. She’s also aware that what she has in terms of a partner & a life (with her hubby) is far more important & cherished- as far as she’s concerned. She urged me not to see the film, “Another Year”. Now of course I have to see it.
I’m pretty sure this post makes me sound crazy & desperate.
You should be careful of what you write on the internet.
My goal is to be able to enter into a relationship with an open-heart, an open mind, open EYES & self-confidence. To BELIEVE that I'm worth it, & there's no reason for me not to be happy. To recognize love when I see it FOR REAL. All of that still seems far away. Not out of reach, but certainly out in the distance.

Ask A Great Question, Get A Stupid Answer.

2011-02-25T09:33:00.000-08:00

I like questionnaires. Remember when everyone on facebook was doing them? I like reading other’s answers because I sometimes get insight I’ve missed along the way, & I like filling them out because it forces me to examine myself. Proust’s has always been my favorite.

1. What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Dinner & wine with friends. Lying on the beach listening to the waves. A big huge penis for me to play with.
2. What is your greatest fear?
Infinite space and/or being lost in space.
3. Which living person do you most admire?
Joan Rivers for obvious reasons. My sister because she has a great life that she’s worked her ass off to achieve.
4. What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Jealousy. What is it good for? Absolutely nothing, & I’ll say it again.
5.What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Ignorance.
6. What is your favorite journey?
The journey from backstage to on stage.
7. What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Math. Just kidding. Having a big penis. Seriously. Sometimes a massive thunder-dong is a pain in the ass. Literally.
8. What do you dislike the most about your appearance?
The spare-tire around my waist/my gunt.
9. Which living person do you most despise?
Elizabeth Hasselbeck. That no-talent rich white bitch needs to get her head out of her bony ass & quit spewing complete ignorant bullshit to an entire nation on a daily basis.
10. Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
Grow up. Dude. Fuck. Yikes.
11. What is your greatest regret?
When I was 17 I let my boyfriend take naked pictures of me. WHERE THE FUCK ARE THOSE PICTURES NOW? Yikes.
12. What or who is the greatest love of your life?
So far, performing. Otherwise, any dude I’m sleeping with.
13. When & where were you happiest?
What is this “happiness” that you speak of?
14. Which talent would you most like to have?
I wish I were a gifted painter/drawer. BAIT & ÇA-RAGE are both amazing at that. I wish I could be that crafty.
15. What is your current state of mind?
Frazzled. Hung-over. Nervous. The usual.
16. If you could change 1 thing about yourself, what would it be?
I wish I didn’t need validation from others. I wish I were more confident.
17. If you could change 1 thing about your family, what would it be?
We’d all have an endless supply of cash.
18. What do consider your greatest achievement?
Obvi my boobs. Have you seen these babies?
19. What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Being a republican. Just kidding. Or AM I?
20. What is your favorite occupation?
Telling jokes. I get to do it every night! Lucky me!
21. What is your most marked characteristic?
I’m SUPER pretty. Obvi. Oh, & my boobies.
22. What do you value most in your friends?
A shared love of booze. Loyalty. Honesty. Their fortune & fame so I can ride on their coat tails.
23. Who are your heroes in real life?
Ms. Met. If you knew her, (& you might from Comedy Central or The Comedy Network) you would know why.
24. What is it that you most dislike?
Liars. Cowards. Bugs. Clogged toilets.
25. If you were to die & come back as a person or a thing, what do you think it would be?
Satan. Or God. Probably Satan.
26. If you could chose what to come back as, what would it be?
An alien who posed as a human.
27. How would you like to die?
I die on stage pretty frequently. I’d like to die in my sleep. Also, I hate murder. Murder stinks.
28. What is your motto?
“It seemed like a good idea at the time”

You Can't Judge A Painting By It's Shit-Smear

2011-02-21T14:55:00.000-08:00

Since I’ve started the Manbbatical, I’ve written 105 posts. I get many comments & emails. When they’re nice, curious or constructive, I really appreciate them. When they’re shitty- it obviously cuts me deep (see: http://www.clairebrosseau.com/2010/10/everybodys-critic.html). Usually when I meet people who’ve read my blog, they’re laudatory & courteous. I met a man (BIG CUPID) who had read a post, & was outspoken about his dislike for it. It kind of blew my mind.
We met at a rehearsal last night. We had actually met years ago, because he was dating my good friend’s current fiancé. We got talking & went outside for a cigarette. He admitted to me that he had read a post of mine (months ago) because we have the same agent, & she had encouraged him to read it. In a confusingly charming and asshole way, he went on to tell me how surprised he was at how much he liked me- because he absolutely HATED my blog, & was sure that I was a complete idiot. In fact- he had maligned me to another mutual friend of ours (CELESTIE) to the point of argument between them (she asked him to stop shit-talking me, & he continued to insult me). He went on announcing how poor the writing was, how callow the subject matter, how narcissistic I am, & how much of a waste of time the project is on every level. He tried to sugarcoat the bitterness by concluding it made no sense that someone so “cool”, “interesting” “smart” & “funny” as I could spew such futile trash. Though I’m a big fan of honesty, I sometimes wonder why people (especially MEN) think that they can say SUCH cruel things to me, & assume it doesn’t deeply hurt my feelings. (Male counterparts of mine have often been the 1st to point out when I gain weight, have a bad show; my hair looks bad, etc…) I’m not sure if everyone has this problem, or if people/MEN think that’s it’s okay to say things like that to me. Maybe it’s because I have a good sense of humor, or because I poke fun at myself on a regular basis.
The point is I was shocked at BIG CUPID’s candid negativity regarding my blog. He even came clean about having written a really shitty comment on the post. (I asked him if he was the infamous “VICTORIA SECRET” who posted he was glad I got raped, & he looked horrified. I believe him that he’s not THAT mush of a fucking shithead.) It just reminded me that 1. Everybody’s entitled to their opinion and B) People often comment or form opinions about things they know nothing about. It reminds me of when I lived in New York City, & the art exhibition “Sensation” came to The Brooklyn Museum Of Art. At the time, Rudolph Giuliani was the mayor. The show was met with serious protests & complaints because of how controversial the material/pieces. Giuliani decided to ban the exhibit before he had even seen it. With the threat of a lawsuit for a breach of the 1st amendment & activism from the likes of Hillary Clinton, Norman Mailer, & Arthur Miller (to name a few) he let the art remain to be seen by the public. The main piece of controversy was called, “The Holy Virgin Mary” by Chris Ofili because it was smeared with elephant dung, & was considered a desecration to the Catholic religion. I was lucky enough to visit the museum & see the piece. It was one of the most beautiful studies of art I have ever seen. It infuriated me that Giuliani could be so ignorant in despising something he had never laid eyes on. I shouldn’t have been surprised- it is GIULIANI, after all.
I’m not saying that my writing is as controversial or as moving as Ofili’s art, but it does upset me when people make public broadcasts slandering things they know nothing about. BIG CUPID read 1 post out of 105. He didn’t know the history, the reason, or the objective behind the project. Something about me as a woman, who is expressive about her sexuality, her problems, her fears, her hopes & her dreams really put him off. He denigrated me to people & potential readers that didn’t know me.
I know to expect that by now. I know putting myself out there for the world to see invites all kinds of creeps, pervs & jerks to judge me. Fortunately, it also welcomes articulate kind words from people who care.
I’m not saying everyone has to love me or what I do, but I do wish that people (not only with me or my work) knew what they were talking about before they slam what is meant to inspire people.
That said, BIG CUPID turned out to be lovely & profusely apologized. Not for his opinion, but for being ignorant. He won me over. Now we’re friends. Hmm. Who I thought was an asshole is actually a nice(ish) dude. See? You never know.

What Is And Should Never Be

2011-02-18T12:36:00.000-08:00

"Everything I love is killing me
Cigarettes, Jack Daniels and caffeine
And that's the way you're turning out to be
Everything I love, gonna have to give up
'Cause everything I love is killing me"

Alan Jackson, Everything I Love

I am one of those people who often make the wrong decision on purpose. You know when you have that moment to decide? That moment of, “should I have another drink?”… “Should I sleep with this dude?” or “should I finish this bag of cookies I just started?” Even though I know it’s wrong, or bad, or it will hurt me somehow- I do it anyway because it feels good in the moment. My caustic habits were the whole reason behind this project. Now that I have exactly THREE MONTHS LEFT on the Manbbatical- the end is near for realsies. I need to keep my nose to the grindstone. The good news is that, I’m so busy with work over the next 12 weeks that I wouldn’t have time to focus on boys, even if I wanted to. That said my heart is still torn up about HIM. I know he’s “wrong” for me, & many of you have shared your opinions with me regarding how “bad” he is for me, but I can’t help it. Yes- he’s got a lot of issues/baggage/ex-wives/children, etc… He’s the one I think about, the one I fantasize about, the one I want. To some of you, you may see this love for HIM as me having learned nothing. The goal was to come out of this on May 18th 2011 as a strong me- a me that’s ready for a REAL relationship. A me that loves myself, is secure in my own life & body & ready to love someone else properly because I “love myself” (barf!).
Maybe in the next 3 months I’ll get over HIM. But maybe I wont! And then what? I could sleep with HIM. I could go to LA, & fuck his brains out. But should I? I’m going to be REALLY FUCKING HORNY. I mean- I am right now. I might EXPLODE by then! As I’m sure most of you know- masturbating just doesn’t really cut it. I know this because I flick through the pink pages all the time. Poor Lancelot & Cletus (my vibrators) have been working overtime this year. I can’t even BELIEVE they still work. Maybe it’s because I’m getting older (gross)… but I think about sex all the time. All my life the moments before I drifted off to sleep I would fantasize about my career. Now I can only imagine all of the horrible things I want to do to HIM, & vice versa. (I’d like to take this opportunity to apologize to my close friends who get super grossed out when they read about my sex life/dreams/vagina. Sorry BAIT. Sorry PEACOCK. Sorry ÇA-RAGE!)
So, what do I do, come May 18th? Do I get rammed by HIM & possibly/most likely get burned? Do I sleep with some random dude to relieve myself of this pent-up sexual frustration? Do I wait until I meet someone I care about? I DON’T THINK I CAN!!!! I never meant to punish myself through all of this. I just wanted to be better than I am. I’m hoping I’ll have all of the/some/at least 1 answer in the next 3 months.

Merkle's Boner (or: "To All The Men I've Loved, This Year")

2011-02-15T08:34:00.001-08:00

"A hot dog at the ballgame beats roast beef at the Ritz."

Humphrey Bogart

All right, people. In a few short days, I’ll be hitting my 9 months anniversary of my Manbbatical. I’m definitely in the homestretch. Yapping on the horn with BAIT last night, neither one of us could believe how fast the time is flying. We inspected the natural kind of flow that the project has sustained this year. I started off all galvanized, like I was up at bat for my 1st pro-game.
My crush on MAN-X was tough to bear. My little torch for SPICY SAUSAGE burned pretty bright as times, too. (Well, anytime he was in town…) I spent a weekend with incredibly sexy WEINER & though I didn’t break any rules with him, he lit a fire in me that couldn’t be choked. Very soon after that, I had my 1st real slip-up with MAGIC TRICK. We smooched, & it was pretty hot. It was really trying for me (& I’m pretty sure him- judging by his raging boner) to stop it at that. Yet it was nice! I felt like I was 13 again! Who knew 1st base could be SO SEXY???
Just when I felt as though I was hitting my stride again, I Met HIM. I fell HARD. Talk about a curveball. I never expected this project to be easy, but I also didn’t see me meeting one of my idols & getting the chance to know HIM. This is more than a silly little crush. This is someone who I’ve admired from afar, then got to know who he REALLY is- & loved that even more. Thanks a lot, universe. I’m really giving it my all, here- and in my path you inaugurate the most fascinating person I’ve ever known? I’m trying to be a good girl! YOU KNEW what you were doing, too, universe. I’m not trying to show off, but I’ve met & worked with some incredible people- people like George Clooney- & I’ve had sex with some real hotties: actors, musicians, men that women drool over. Some famous, some not. Who cares. I seriously don’t. I mean- don’t get me wrong, it’s exciting to know that I’m macking someone who’s in the public eye, kind of, I guess. But at the end of the day, they’re just people- who go poo, & have zits; insecurities & challenges just like the rest of us. HIM is different. HIM is much more than that, to me. You’re making it extremely challenging for me to get over HIM, universe. I just don’t know what else I have to give.
Moving on to last week, when I met CREW: successful, SUPER-hot, hilarious, NOT A PERFORMER, all-around awesome dude (so far as I can tell). Another foul on my part. It was a superb boost to my ego, & it felt really great to be touched. I broke some rules. Again. But it felt fucking amazing.
And now, here I am, with 3 months left to go… I can see home plate in front of me. I can see it’s not about the men, it’s about me. While all of these boys have distracted me along the way (like fans yelling in the stands, the heat and sun in my eyes, or my base-coach making signs at me that I don’t understand) they’ve made it so much more interesting.
And now, it’s just me, the white line made of chalk, & the bag I have to grab in order for a run batted in. I’m focused. I’m ready. Let’s play ball.

Compromising Positions

2011-02-12T17:03:00.000-08:00

I want my readers to know that I always love reading your comments, emails & messages to me re: my posts. To clear up any mystification to my newer readers who think that I’m “putting myself in compromising positions”: I live an unconventional life. It’s part of what makes this Manbbatical so challenging for me. I don’t work a 9 to 5 in an office, or in any corporate capacity. My job consists of me being alone writing in my apartment during the day, auditioning or acting on a set, but mostly being in comedy clubs at night, on the road with men. I rarely go out. Ask any of my friends in Toronto. I DO go out (sometimes) when I’m traveling. I mean- how can I be faulted for going out while I was in Halifax? I never get to see my friend ORGAN DONOR, & I wanted to take him out to thank him for putting me up for a few days. I can’t help it that his friends are hotties. It’s Halifax! I want to see what the city is like- I LOVE that town! Of COURSE I was going to have some drinks! I’m an alcoholic, for God sake… it sort of comes with the territory. I didn’t want to change my social life. I just want to be able to live my life, without fucking it all up with comics & other losers.
This weekend is a GREAT example of how the cock-cleanse is tough. I’m holed up in a condo in St.John’s Newfoundland. And not like, downtown. We’re stationed in a segregated development, with no car. There is (literally) 6 feet of snow blocking every entrance to the house, we have no Internet access, & like 4 TV channels. We have 1 show/night, at 930pm. Know what that means? It means I’m stranded in a house with no escape & no access to the outside world for approximately 20 hours a day. What is this, WW2? Who am I? Anne Frank?
To shed some light for you, I’m working with a young, virile comic (MAX DANGER) who I find funny & pretty sexy. Now. Girls. Put yourself in my position. In a deserted house for 4 days with NOTHING TO DO? You can see why it’s so easy to hook up with the boys I travel with (ONLY IF THEY ARE SINGLE, BTW. I’m not judging, but I don’t roll with taken dudes. Do what you like, but it’s not for me. I’ve done it years ago, & it tore my heart out). This COULD have been a super-sexual weekend. MAX DANGER & I could have fucked our brains out all weekend & that would have made the time pass in an electrifying way. Normal jobs put you in your own hotel room when you travel. That’s not always how my job works. So, seriously. Imagine- men AND women, what would you do in my place? NOT go on the road? NEVER go out? Pretend I’m blind to talent that blows me away? Make believe I’m not a woman who is very often horny? Ignore the little sex-machine sleeping soundly in the room next to mine? I mean COME ON, PEOPLE! THROW ME A FUCKING BONE, HERE!!!!
I haven’t set myself up for failure. I can’t fail at this. It’s my life. It’s just to learn- an experiment. I’ve had 1 hot make-out (with MAGIC-TRICK), I fell in love (with HIM) & fooled around with CREW to ease some pain & blow off steam. And I’m not going to lie- all three of those men were fucking sexy & made me feel hot. I don’t regret any of it, & I didn’t have sex with any of them. I’m still on track. Some may see these slip-ups as the checkmate for my project, or those who betted on my demise. I know I’m doing well with this. Otherwise, instead of writing this post right now, MAX DANGER’s dong would be in my mouth. I don’t know about YOUR skill-set, but I can’t burp a dude’s worm AND write a blog post at the same time.

Live And Don't Learn

2011-02-09T14:31:00.000-08:00

You see my problem is this: I'm dreaming away; Wishing that heroes, they truly exist. I cry watching the days. Can't you see I'm a fool in so many ways? But to lose all my senses... That is just so typically me.

Britney Spears Oops! I Did It Again

I wasn’t going to blog about this, but I feel I have to. After having talked it over with BAIT this morning, she helped me realize that my readers aren’t following because of the “outcome” necessarily, but because of the content. I hope this is true- on the grounds that I may lose some readers after they check out this post.

It may or may not be clear to you how brokenhearted I’ve been re: the end of my “non-relationship” with HIM. Last night, the OUT OF CONTROL EGO & I had a long talk about my situation regarding my throbbing crush. I told her all about how HIM has listed all of the reason why we SHOULDN’T be together, & in my heart, I know HIM is right. He said that he’d still like to “be” with me come May 18th 2011, but he hopes that I won’t feel the same because he thinks I “deserve better”. If I’ve learned ANYTHING in the past 34 years, it’s that when a (non) lover tells you something, you should listen. Especially when it’s an old guy who’s been around the block. He’s got a lot of baggage & issues, & he doesn’t foresee it boding well for us. It’s not to say he doesn’t care for me (I genuinely think he does), but he just doesn’t think it’s going to work. He wants me to focus on my project & remember the reasons I began this Manbbatical in the 1st place. He wants to wait & see what happens for us in the spring, & I know it’s for the best. I’ve always been of the opinion that when a man cares enough, he will find a way to be with you. When people say it’s not personal, it still is. What this really means is that he doesn’t want to pursue a relationship with ME, & I know it.
I’m doing okay, but my heart is heavy & I’ve been trying to just move on. I am in love with HIM. I know I fall in love a lot, but I really love HIM- for all of the good, & all of the bad reasons. BAIT thinks I’m constantly doing myself a disservice by idolizing HIM so much, & never thinking I am worthy of his love. She’s obviously right- & while it might have boosted HIM’s ego, it must have been annoying as well. It just sucks so much. I was really proud of myself when we first decided on the (non) split, because I could have hooked up with this dude 2 nights later, & I didn’t do it. I felt like I was finally beginning to “get it”. Fooling around with someone else wasn’t going to heal my heart sickness- it would only veil the pain for a short time, thus piling up more & more bitterness & desolation deep inside me.
Last night (I’m in Halifax right now on tour) I went out for dinner with my friend ORGAN DONOR & some of his very handsome, charming pals. They paid me lots of attention & it was a great boost for my sore ego. As the night wore on, the drinks flowed freely & my brain became foggy. Though my judgment was substandard (to say the least) I still knew what I was doing. ORGAN DONOR, his friend CREW & I decided to keep the party going by coming back to OD’s house (where I’m staying for a couple of nights). There was an obvious connection with CREW & I, & I knew I should be treading carefully. Instead, I ran full-force into a major smooch with him, & things went downhill/uphill from there. I DID NOT SLEEP WITH HIM. But that’s beside the point. I woke up once again this morning, feeling as though I have learned NOTHING. I know just why I did it: he was hot, funny, he liked me, I was drunk, feeling awful about myself but still having fun, & quite frankly- really fucking horny. I wanted to be wanted. It felt really good. Which is great, because now I feel terrible. BAIT says that naturally I’m harder on myself than anyone else would ever be, & that I don’t need to crucify myself over it. It was a mistake, & it’s all part of this dong-recess process. I have definitely had some major bumps in the road. She always says that it’s like if I were on a diet, I wouldn’t stop going to restaurants, having some snacks & sometimes a little cookie here or there. (Her metaphor is much more eloquent & contemplative, but I’m paraphrasing…) This slip-up feels particularly precarious as I only have a little over 3 months left to go, & by now I was hoping to be more educated, discerning, or at least more careful. I’m terrified that in the spring I will have finished my Manbbatical & will be the same woman I was when I began- that I just wasted a year & everyone’s time. The WORST part is that last night was pretty hot. Like, really fucking sexy. The kind of sexy that flashes in your mind all day when you least expect it, & it stops you dead in your tracks. The kind of sexy that makes my cheeks flush & my heart beat faster. I wish it had at least been bad or awkward, so I could punish myself a little more.
Some of you may be disappointed. Believe me, there’s no way you could be more let down by me than I am of myself. (Huh? Whatever. You know what I mean…) But I did it. And I want to be as honest as I can throughout this project, so you can judge me however you want- but I’m not going to stop. Life is really hard & I’m just trying to get better at living it.
Also to CREW, if he reads this: I’m really sorry if I gave you blue-balls.

Welcome To The VD Clinic.

2011-02-06T21:11:00.000-08:00

Valentine’s Day is one of those occasions when it’s inevitable to reflect on your romantic life- whether you think it’s a corporate sham, or not. I’ve never cared much for it, one way or the other. I’ve never been all riled up about the commercialism of it all- in fact I think it’s kind of nice to have a day that reminds us to express our love to each other, but the pressure of gifts & romance are unreasonable at best. I would honestly prefer to get flowers from my man as a random gesture of affection on any other given day, but if my lover didn’t get me ANYTHING on February 14th, I’d feel neglected, for sure.
I’ve never really minded being alone (when I have been) on Cupid’s day. When my mother was single, we would go for a champagne breakfast & eat oysters. 1 year, ALADIN bought me a beautiful necklace that I still wear. VIDEO STORE GUY took me out for 1 of the most expensive, romantic dinners I’ve ever been treated to. Many years have gone by where the men I’m with simply let the day slip away as if there were nothing going on. This year, I will be in Newfoundland telling jokes. If I weren’t a comic- but a normal person- I think that would be a really nice date. Dinner & a show. A comedy show! It’s thoughtful & fun, & some of it will most likely be dirty, giving you some ideas of what you can do to each other when you get home. When I began the Manbbatical, I thought mostly about Xmas & the holidays, my birthday, the fall (my favorite & most romantic season), anything where family must all be together, & of course, Valentine’s Day. So my day is planned. I’ll be making money by (trying) to make people laugh, which is exactly what I SHOULD be doing. Since I have quite a rich fantasy life, I’ll tell you what I would LIKE to be doing, if I had an option B. (this isn’t to say I would pick said option B over working. In fact, I’m quite content to be working, this year.)
I would fly to LA. Again, not wearing anything but very sexy lingerie under my coat. I know I’ve used this one before, but I really want to do it, & eventually I will. I don’t want to brag, but I would probably even shave & wash my hair. I would show up to HIM’s loft-apartment, with a chilled (don’t ask me how I kept it cold…) bottle of Veuve Cliquot, & 2 champagne flutes. For some reason, HIM was hoping I was coming, & his place was set for sexy time (which I am usually to immature to appreciate, but not in my fantasies). I don’t care much for rose petals strewn all over but there are candles lit, & soft music playing. He has rented “Moonstruck” & is making me spaghetti. We make love several times throughout the evening, eat, laugh, watch the film, have drinks, & take his dog for a nice long walk… We fall asleep full, warm, naked & exhausted, & his dog cuddles up with us.
That’s what I would find romantic. That’s what I would do if I could, & I wasn’t working.
If you’re stuck on what to do for your loved one, just be thoughtful. If you know what they like & you can be a little creative, it doesn’t cost much money (you don’t HAVE to fly to LA & drink champagne) to make your loved one happy. I would do it, if I could.

Time & Tide Wait For No Woman

2011-02-05T10:21:00.000-08:00

I think that a major reason for me losing my shit over the past month has to do with my up-coming 34th birthday. I know this may seem absurd to those who are older than me, & perhaps obscure to those who are younger than me. It’s always been one of my WORST habits to compare myself to others… You would think by now, it would register that comparisons are odious. A little competition is healthy, & a little fire under my ass motivates me- but everyone has his or her own path, & life is constantly reminding me that it will never be what I expect of it.
In French, being 33 is referred to as “LÂge Du Christ” (Christ’s age). It’s supposed to be a monumental year, since that’s how old Jesus was when he died. Let’s face it- that year WAS pretty godamned spectacular for him, weather you believe him to be our savior, or not. He was kind of the ultimate rock-star.
I had high hopes for my 33rd year. Quite frankly, I’ve been feeling really inadequate for the past while. I don’t know what happened, but as I lay in bed the other night praying for Zs that wouldn’t come, I thought about my past year. Now, I may not have been crucified or resurrected- but some have accused me of blasphemy, I have broken bread & had wine with my friends MANY times, & to be fair- I have been trying to redeem myself, just like that crazy bastard wanted.
In all seriousness, I’m not sure why I’ve been so hard on myself. As I looked back in my dreamy state over what the last year has embodied, I can’t help but be proud. (Shit. Don’t tell Jesus! Pride is a deadly sin.) For what felt like the 1st time in my life, I saw the road I was headed down & I needed to change direction. So I actually did.
I ended a 2+yr unhappy relationship, I made pretty great strides in my professional life, & obviously the most eminent choice was starting the Manbbatical. Although at times all I can focus on is the fact that I’m a 33yr old girl who lives in a tiny apartment with a cat, no money & no man (which is all true), I can FEEL the momentum of my life changing. The good news is that I didn’t wait for divine intervention. This time, I’m making it happen. Because of my blog, I’ve had to be painfully self-aware. Because of that constant self-examination, I feel the life-lessons I’m learning that much more profoundly. I’ve always journaled, but because this year the story of my life is out there for the world to read, it’s impossible for me not to go over my writing with a fine-tooth comb out of insecurity, & my frenetic tendencies. Daily, I am reminded of my neuroses, as it’s laid out on the Internet for the planet’s consumption.
I am going to force myself to feel good about my 33rd year. There have been ups & downs- but that may be the only thing we can count on, when it comes to living. Do I feel my cougar years, my years of barrenness, & the lost glow of my youth creeping up on me? YES. Do I feel wiser, more comfortable in my body; more confident than I did when I was in my 20’s? YES. Kind of. Mostly. At least now I like to have sex with the lights on. Or at least I did, before this dick-diet.
I can FEEL myself changing. Not just the fact that my boobies are a LOT saggier than they used to be, & that Restylane injections are a genuine consideration for me… I mean, let’s face it: an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure! Am I right, people!?!
I can feel myself making better choices. HIM & I had a long talk the other night. FINALLY. I miss HIM. I want to call & text HIM all the time. I want to Skype with HIM all night. Yet a huge part of me doesn’t want any of those things. I want to use these last 3 ½ months properly. I only want to center-in on my work, my body, my friends, family, & my wellbeing. And THAT’S what I’m doing/going to do. HIM might lose interest; find someone else, or whatever else it takes to move on… that is a risk I am willing to take, & one that I NEVER would have taken before. I am still a huge drama-mama, but nothing is as devastating as it might have been before. I’m not even sure I WILL have sex on May 18th. I might not want to. I KNOW. SHOCKED? ME TOO!!! In all seriousness, I’m not going to do it, just for the sake of doing it. I will have learned nothing, nor would it be any sort of triumph. Yes, I want to screw HIM’s brains out. But there’s more to life. If it feels really right (or I'm super drunkie) I'll do it. Just kidding. About the drunkie part. I hope. X your fingers. Yikes!
Oh, 33. You crazy bastard of a year. You HAVE been tremendously historic for me. I would say the most transitional to date. I can’t believe I’m going to be older than Jesus was.
That means, depending on your beliefs, I am older than God.
Fuck.

Soldier On

2011-02-03T01:30:00.000-08:00

"Develop an interest in life as you see it; the people, things, literature, music - the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself."

Henry Miller

Many of my friends have been struggling lately. It seems we’re all having a tough time. I blame the weather. The blistering cold, the deep snow, the bullshit winds… It’s enough to make me want to barf/cry/stab Mother Nature in the face. But let’s face it. It’s my 34th winter- I’m no amateur- so I should just buck-up & take it like a woman.
Winter is never so bad when I’m in love. I mean, it still sucks, but at least there’s a warm body in my bed, someone to cuddle up with on the couch, someone to make the long, dark days feel more like long, toasty nights. Being heartbroken in the wintertime is the worst. THEE. WORST.
SCULLY & I have been yapping on Skype quite a bit, lately. We’ve seen each other through many ups & downs. In fact, back in our youth (before ‘Nam) we were even in love with the same man. Times were tough. Our friendship was tested in ways we never wanted it to, & hope it never will be, again! 14 years later, she is one of my favorite people on planet earth… the wildest imagination, god-given talent as an actress & writer, & the most non-judgmental, loyal friend one could ever hope for. SCULLY & I have seen each other through some major-doozie heartbreaks, & we’ve acquired different ways on how to cope. Sometimes, when we’re struggling to keep our heads above water, we check in with each other to see if there’s a technique to save ourselves that we forgot, or see if there are any new methods we don’t know about. (It should be noted that SCULLY is now married to a wonderful man. That doesn’t mean heartbreak doesn’t occur. Anyone who’s married will testify to that. It doesn’t always have to be about un-requited love…)
I feel during the crux of winter, I should share with you ways to overcome a bleeding heart. It won’t cure the pain, the sorrow, the guilt or the loneliness, but at least it can alleviate some of the distress for a short time- & that relief is essential to live.

1.Immerse yourself in a good novel. At least while you’re reading, you’ll be transported into someone else’s world, making it almost impossible to focus on yourself- at least until you put the book/eReader down. I never get much done while I’m reading a book I love, but it sure beats crying in my beer.
2. Watch all 7 seasons of Buffy The Vampire Slayer. Admittedly, the 1st season might be a little tougher to get through, but it’s the shortest of the seasons, & if you stick with it- you’ll be forever grateful that you did. What’s that, you say? A teenage girl killing vampires doesn’t appeal to you? Let me ask you this, does AWESOMENESS appeal to you? Does the coolest super-hero on planet EARTH appeal to you? Let me explain to you that BUFFY SUMMERS is a character we could all try to emulate. She’s strong, brave, and hilarious, she rarely gets a break, & deals with hard life in the most pro-active way all day, everyday. That show is the best action/romance/comedy/horror content of any other ever made. (WHERE MY NERDS AT!!!) I’m just saying: Buffy has reminded me time & again that life can be fucking BRUTAL, but there are ways to deal with it in a mature, classy, spirited way.
3. If it’s about a dude/girl, lose their number. Cut the chord. There’s no reason for any of us to memorize a phone number anymore- unless it’s important like my sushi or pizza delivery number, or 911. No one wants to do this one. It’s tough, but BELIEVES me; it’s for the best. Hide them on Facebook (you don’t NEED to delete them, but if that’s what you want- just know when you recover, it’s embarrassing to re-ask for their FB friendship…). No more twitter checking on them, creeping their websites, asking about them… The faster you start to move on, the faster you start to move on.
4. Indulge in a little sadness. Listen to sad music, cry, and feel sorry for yourself. Know that your situation fucking blows. But don’t overdo it! No one likes to see one hanging themselves on the cross. Pick yourself by the balls, & get through the days. YOU WILL BE FINE.
5. Get therapy. Exercise. Eat well. Take care of yourself. I know how new agey & clichéée I sound, but we all have issues, so why not talk to a pro? I don’t care who you are- all of these number 5 things are good advice.
6. Nurture your friendships. That’s what your friends are there, for. Spend a little more time with them- weather it is on messenger, on the phone, or in person. Be with people you love & who love you. It just makes life better.
7. Hang out with my cat, Stinky. Oh, wait. You can’t. Too bad for you- she’s AWESOME.

Yesterday, while I was on the Queen st. streetcar, I looked up at a beautiful old building, & there was a sign in a window that read, “You are not alone”. Maybe it was that message combined with the music from my earphones, but it made me well up with tears. Happy tears. We’re NOT alone. Know that you are probably stronger than you give yourself credit for, & you WILL get through it. It’s going to suck hard for a while, but you will be okay again.
As my good friend SOUTHERN BELLE always says, “Take my advice- I’m not using it.”

Beauty From Ashes

2011-01-31T18:38:00.000-08:00

"It is an illusion that youth is happy, an illusion of those who have lost it."

W. Somerset Maugham

I’m ashamed & embarrassed to admit 1 of my guiltiest pleasures over the past few years: On Monday nights, I like to settle in on my couch, in my jammies, glass of wine in hand, & watch “The Bachelor/Bachelorette”, as I text back & forth with my sister CC & COYBOY CAT, commenting. No matter how cheesy, unsophisticated, & obtuse the contestants are- I can’t help but pick favorites & indulge in the shallow drama. This year the girls seem to be especially weepy- & it reminds me of what I was like in my 20’s. My sister & I began furiously texting each other listing all of the reasons why it would be a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT SHOW, if the women on the show were in their 30’s.
Every season, it becomes increasing difficult for me to suspend my belief, & feel sorry for the girls when their hearts break. These days, I feel like yelling at them, “Seriously, ladies? You’re all super hot with smoking bodies, & you’re like, 24. You’re going to be FINE. So some fake-tanned vacant jackass who you met like, TWICE- doesn’t wanna bone you/marry you. Big deal. Right after you pack your bags you’ll have met some dude who’ll sweep you off your feet. And hopefully one that’s not dating 25 other women. A little heartbreak is GOOD, every now & then. It builds CHARACTER. It’s what the best plays, books, poems & films have been written about. It’s where the most beautiful art & music come from. Take it all in. Feel it all & let it CHANGE you. You’ve been GROOMED to meet men & make them fall in love with you. Stop crying, turn off the God damned waterworks for cristsakes! Grow up. Stop putting up with his shit, show some self-respect & LEAVE!”
If it were a bunch of women in their 30’s or 40’s? 1st of all, the show couldn’t exist for several reasons. Not to be all, “take back the night”, but the same reality show wouldn’t have an audience if the women were 10-15 years older. Unfortunate, but I think true. Also, ¾ of the women would march right out the front door when they realized he was dating TWENTY-FIVE OTHER WOMEN. COME ON. That’s a bit much, no? Also, I’d be all, “Hey dude. How bout you spend more time at the library & less time in a tanning bed?”
I never could have done this Manbbatical in my twenties. I wish I had, but I pretty much did the opposite. I’m finally starting to realize that the whole reason I started this, was because I was TIRED of selling myself short in relationships. I’ve been doing that STILL throughout this trying year. With Man-X AND HIM. In my 20’s I KNEW I deserved the best. In my 30’s I’m beginning to realize, I BELIEVE I deserve the best. Maybe I AM only figuring it out now, at the end of 33 years… but I’m starting to BELIEVE it. Now I just need to begin behaving in a way that will prove it.

Tears Of A Clown

2011-01-29T11:26:00.000-08:00

People say I'm the life of the party
Because I tell a joke or two
Although I might be laughing loud and hearty
Deep inside I'm blue
So take a good look at my face
You'll see my smile looks out of place
If you look closer, it's easy to trace
The tracks of my tears..

Smokey Robinson, The Tracks Of My Tears

If you are a regular reader, you probably know that I’ve been really struggling over the past few weeks. It’s been a pretty dark time for me- that may not make sense- since everything is going really “well” for me right now. That’s one of my worst problems. I could be on top of the world, & still the saddest woman in it. Unfortunately depression has a ripple effect, in that I’ve been an absent friend, a distant daughter/sister/aunt, & a complete recluse unless I’ve absolutely HAD to go out. I’ve slapped on a happy face when I’ve been in public, but inside have felt like a dying star, collapsing in on myself. I am profoundly grateful for my support system: a cluster of understanding, supportive people who don’t judge me & do whatever they can to help. It’s so frustrating, because I’ve been doing what I can to lift this heaviness from my chest- by drinking less, working out, eating better, etc… Sometimes it’s just not enough. In case you’re wondering, it’s not because my non-relationship with HIM was cut off so abruptly, but that certainly isn’t helping. This intrusive darkness is also poignant because this weekend has been my very 1st headlining weekend as a comic, & this is something I’ve worked for the past six years. How sad it is to realize a goal & not be able to enjoy that to it’s fullest potential.

Here’s the good news: my weekend at the comedy club has been going really well. Wednesday & Thursday nights were OKAY. Not epic. I didn’t see God, but the crowd laughed throughout my set, I got my feet wet, & I learned a lot about how to roll on stage for twice the amount of time I’m normally up there. It’s hard work. It’s exhausting on nights where there are 2 shows. I have so much more respect for people like Joan Rivers or Bill Cosby (who I didn’t think I COULD respect anymore than I already do) who are older than God & still do hour-long sets twice nightly. A number of comics in Toronto who I hold in very high regard have come to watch my set & give me their opinions & advice. They know who they are, & I am so thankful- and quite frankly- surprised at how many have come out to support. I feel very, very lucky. Many friends have also come & I can’t thank them enough. Others have called/emailed/texted sending good wishes & luck & I couldn’t be more overwhelmed by people’s kindness.

Here’s the best news: Spending hours on a stage this week has lifted my spirit & cleared my mind quite remarkably. I care very little about boys this week & am focused only on my work, which feels amazing. I feel more alive on that stage then I have in a long time… & that may not be very providential, but I’ll take happiness where I can find it. I am terribly ill before I get up to do my set- a combination of nerves, self-doubt & excitement rule my guts & I’m still sick before every show. Once I set foot on that stage however… once I feel that 1st swell of laughter… I know I’m right where I’m supposed to be. I HAVE to start appreciating that so few people in this world have a job that makes them feel the way my job makes me feel. I might live (way) below the poverty line, I might have terrible luck & decision making skills when it comes to my love-life, but I get to experience a thrill that most people only fantasize about on a nightly basis. I love working on that stage- I love the lights, the attention & the power… does this mean I’m an egomaniac? Most likely.
Shit.
Therein probably lay the crux of my issues: the extreme highs & lows, my never-ending quest for “happiness”, my sadness & my self-scrutiny.
Now. Do I “fix” this, or accept the way I am, & try to deal with it? I am (almost) 34 years old. I’ve lived in me for a while, this is who I am. I better start to at least enjoy it a little bit- because if I don’t, I sure as hell can’t expect a partner to. I can’t rely on adrenaline & crowds to make me feel cognizant. It’s a slippery slope, & I’m clinging on for dear life.

If I Only Had A Brain, A Heart, Or The Nerve

2011-01-25T06:40:00.000-08:00

"What do you get when you fall in love? You only get lies and pain and sorrow. So far at least until tomorrow, I'll never fall in love again. I'll never fall in love again."

Burt Bacharach, I'll Never Fall In Love Again

I’ve always been very soft. Very sensitive. I’ve always rooted for the underdog (it’s why I was a Mets fan when I lived in NYC). It’s not that I think the underdog works harder, it’s just my sense of fairness & justice. I’ve developed a thicker skin over my years, but it’s still easy for my to cry over a simple wrongdoing. You’d think I’d realize at (almost) 34 years old that life isn’t fair. Bad things happen to good people, & vice versa. Friends turn on you, lovers leave, investments go tits-up, loved ones die, & losing is a part of everyday life.
(Wow. this post is a real upper...)
I know I’ve been a jerk throughout my life. Not always, & I think I’m getting better. I genuinely TRY to take others into consideration. Everything from littering, volunteering, & heartbreak. This isn’t to say I’ll stay with someone who I don’t love, so as not to break their heart, but I try to be as empathetic as I can be, when I’m cutting things off. That said it’s been a very long time since I “dumped” somebody. Well… technically I ended it with VIDEO STORE GUY, but it was only a matter of time before he brought it up- I just beat him to the punch.
I get along quite well with almost all of my exes. I’m very much of the opinion that just because things didn’t work out the way we thought it might, or hoped it would- there was a lot of love there at one point- and that has to count for something. I’m not saying I’m best friends with all of them, but certainly I’m always glad to see them, & wish them all the best. Some HAVE in fact, become close pals. EXCALIBUR, for example. Even ALADIN- who for a long time I believed to be “the love of my life”- is getting married to his now girlfriend, & I honestly couldn’t be happier for him. It takes a lot for me to genuinely resent someone. VIDEO STORE GUY & I can’t stand each other, which is a shame. The break-up itself wasn’t even so bad, & we were quite cordial for months after that. One drunken night we had a MASSIVE public blowout, & since then, cannot stand the sight of each other. The only other ex-boyfriend I have that ended on a very sour note was BUCKLE-SHOES, who was a complete mis-match for me. He was also very jerky. He was a constant source of digs & jokes from my friends. I recently found out through the grapevine that he’s dying of Cancer. NOW who’s the dick? Me. As usual.
The thing is, if you don’t like someone, or have lost that lovin’ feelin- you don’t HAVE to be a dick about it. Take responsibility. If you’ve had some kind of a relationship, don’t you owe it to that person to be slightly kind? Or at least honest? I never begrudge anyone if they’re being forthright. Then they have some honor- some credibility. It might not be what I WANT to hear, but at least it’s the truth. In my heart of hearts- whenever a man’s left me & told me the real reason why, I cannot help but have respect for him.
Maybe I’m overrating my respect. Maybe dudes don’t care about it. There’s a golden rule that I TRY to live by: (it’s not “don’t talk about fight club” OR “never spend your own money”) but, “do unto others as you would have them do unto you”. That’s not even about my Catholic roots, but just a nice way to live. I should also point out that it astounds me, whenever I meet men who have daughters who are shitty to women. Maybe it’s unfounded, but I always wonder how they would like to see their own flesh & blood be torn apart the way they have done.
Please don’t get your panties all tied in knots. This isn’t because I haven’t talked to HIM. That’s a completely separate issue, with a completely different set of rules. I’ve just been thinking lately about how I’ve let me treat me like shit over the past few years, & why. It’s my own problem & fault & as I’ve been figuring out lately, due to my low self-esteem. But it’s bullshit, & I’m done with it. I obviously expect too much from people. My father always told me that. It’s just that I’ve always demanded the best from the people who surround me, in hopes that they would demand the best of me. Usually I’m more than satisfied with said request & demand, but not with my ex-boyfriends.
I can laugh & scoff at theories like “The Rules”, “He’s Just Not That Into You” or “Why Men Love Bitches”. However, I’m beginning to see their point. This is some serious bullshit. I can be alone. I’ve been figuring that out since I started this god-forsaken project. I’m realizing that I’d prefer to be alone than be some dude’s subordinate.
Yes, I’m angrier than usual, which will be obvious if you’re an avid reader of my blog. I’ve just HAD IT. I’m not saying women are better, or that we don’t act like dicks, but men, step up to the plate, for fuck sakes. At least with me. Be a fucking man. Grow a pair & tell what the fuck is going on. I repeat: this isn’t just for HIM. It’s about all the men I’ve allowed to walk all over me as if I were a doormat, wiping their dirty feet, & tossing me aside. I’ve been really nice to all the jackasses that I’ve let bone me. Obviously too nice. Well, no more Mrs. Nice Guy. I know I rant & rave about how horny I am, but you know what? I’m not putting up with this ridiculous behavior, anymore. I don't need some jackass to fuck me. That's what vibrators are for.
I deserve better. I’m really nice. Ask any of my friends. Ask any of my co-workers. I’ll go out on a limb for you. I’m especially nice if we’re sleeping together, or have some weird, close, non-sexual relationship. I don’t deserve to be treated like a piece of shit.
Maybe I’m being too harsh. But being nice has got me nowhere.

Bad Liver And A Broken Heart

2011-01-23T21:25:00.000-08:00

"How wrong it is for a woman to expect the man to build the world she wants, rather than to create it herself."

Anais Nin

Recently readers have been commenting & writing me emails, wanting to know who I “really am”, & what I “really want”. I thought I had been making that clear all along, but apparently not. Maybe I’m not being clear with myself. I’m not sure. Either way, here you have it.
LADIES & GERMS, I GIVE YOU, CLAIRE BROSSEAU:

I am a walking contradiction.
I say things without thinking all the time, which makes me funny on stage, & a pain in the ass in real life. I have a huge ego, but incredibly low self-esteem. Half of the time I’m very comfortable in my body, & the other half of the time, I feel like I’m wearing an imposter’s skin-suit. I’m confident on stage, but live in fear that everyone will figure out that I’ve pulled the wool over everybody’s eyes because I suck. I hate being rejected, yet I chose a career & a slew of men who mostly only have that to offer. I put myself out there, then get upset when people form an (negative) opinion about me. I can be extremely lazy, or very hard working. I want to believe the best in people. I have many close, good friends. I have some amazing mentors. I do what I can to manage depression, but it often kicks my ass. I can be pretty awesome when I’m not being crazy. I can conceal my craziness from most people, but those close to me (mostly BAIT, my mom, my sister CC, ÇA-RAGE, PEACOCK, CUPCAKE, & CELESTIE) bear the brunt of it. I’m always sorry for that, & try to make it up to them 10 fold when I feel okay. I’m generally pretty healthy, but I have died once (see 12/04/10 post: http://www.clairebrosseau.com/2010/12/life-death-of-claire-brosseau.html). I have ulceric colitis, a herniated disk in my back, chronic asthma, & a heart condition. I know that sounds pretty bad, but I feel great most of the time, & you would never guess any of it if you met me. None of those things ever really bother me. When they do, it stinks. Obviously. That said, I smoke, often eat like shit, often skip the gym, & often party too hard. I’m like an open book & try very hard not to judge people. I hate lying. I hate revenge. Sometimes I try to make men jealous if I don’t feel secure in my relationship, which is gross & lame & makes me hate myself. I’m really my own worst enemy. I know if I could believe in myself more, see myself the way BAIT sees me (for example) then I could make even greater strides as a woman, a friend, a daughter, an actress, a writer & a comic. If so many people I love & trust think I’m great, then there must be some pretty great things about me. Right? Right.
What I want is to be proud of myself: my decisions, my actions, my body & my work. I want to make more/some money. I want a relationship where we’re equals, where there’s a lot of love, honesty, & nakedness. I want to have my own family. I want to own my own home. I’m a slave to passion & I want to embrace that, without being frivolous. I want to care less about what others think about me, & care more about my goals & my drive.

I WANT to stop thinking of HIM, & wondering why he STILL wont talk to me. It’s breaking my heart.

I want to spend the last third of my Manbbatical in the way I intended to in the beginning: taking care of my body, working as hard as I can, & nourishing my friendships. Not focusing on romantic relationships, & finding love with MYSELF. (barf)
That’s who I am, & that’s what I want.

I sincerely hope this answers your questions about me & more importantly, I hope it clears things up for myself.

Let Me Stand Next To Your Fire

2011-01-20T17:43:00.000-08:00

"Okay, I'm cookie dough. I'm not done baking. I'm not finished becoming whatever the hell it is I'm gonna turn out to be. I make it through this, and the next thing, and the next thing, and... maybe one day I turn around and realize I'm ready. I'm cookies. And then, you know, if I want someone to eat--- or enjoy warm, delicious cookie me, then, that's fine. That'll be then. When I'm done."

BUFFY SUMMERS, Buffy The Vampire Slayer

When I started the Manbbatical, what scared me the most was knowing that I would be alone during holidays & the winter in general. To cope with the protracted darkness & the bitter cold by myself is awful. One of the main reasons I want to move to Los Angeles is for its absence of winter. I was at the end of my rope last year during this season- & midway through this one- I’m ready to curl up & die. It doesn’t help that I thought I’d be immune to heartbreak this year, which apparently I’m not. HIM hasn’t been in touch with me for a week, & I have no idea why. Things are complicated between he & I, but at the same time it’s very simple. If he wanted to talk to me, he would call. Beyond that, after having a long overdue coffee date with VOT today, he confirmed my incertitude regarding my learning curve. After telling him that I had sent a very saucy text to MAGIC TRICK last night, he asked me why. I know it’s because my ego, feelings, & heart are crushed because of HIM’s sudden lack of interest. It’s also because I saw MAGIC TRICK last night, & he looked really cute. MAGIC TRICK is extremely talented, & I know he’s a great kisser (See Oct. 8th post: http://www.clairebrosseau.com/2010/10/penance-and-reconciliation.html). He pays attention to me in a way that makes me feel good. It’s deplorable that I immediately fall back to my default state of needing attention from dudes to make me feel “better”. In this sense, I’ve learned nothing.
I should tell you that in this somber, freezing climate, staying happy is difficult for me to begin with. I’m trying to be proactive about keeping my mood infallible by going to the gym, eating properly, working hard, smiling, nurturing my friendships (hence my coffee date with VOT, & lunch today with FLOATING HEAD & TAPE), & being grateful. Nothing’s working. I’m doing my best to absorb inspiration wherever I can find it. I’m doing okay on stage, it’s the only place I feel normal, lately. There, or hiding behind my computer, or curled up in bed with my cat & eReader. I walk around with a forced smile, feeling bruised & infected. It’s not a chronic pain, but it occupies too many of my waking hours, & always lingering in the corners of my mind.
Upon Skyping with BAIT today, I was in tears. I’m so fragile, & it’s so frustrating. I feel like I don’t have much more to give. I give all of my heart, & it always gets handed back to me. I work hard & have never been more determined, & I’ve never been poorer. It never ends. I'm going to be 34 years old in 1 short month. I feel the same way I did when I was 24. Except my boobs are saggier & I'm fatter. Also, I had a hot boyfriend then, & money in the bank. Jesus.
It never seems so bad when there’s a warm body in bed, next to me. It always seems more bearable when I can cuddle up on the couch with my partner. I feel really, really alone in the world, right now. I know I’m not, I know I have a lot. But I feel really alone.

One thing I have learned? Sex won’t fix this.

My Own Worst Frenemy.

2011-01-18T10:23:00.003-08:00

"I have never found anybody who could stand to accept the daily demonstrative love I feel in me, and give back as good as I give."
Sylvia Palth

All right. I think it’s beginning to sink in. I have very low self-esteem. I’m not sure why, but I do. I don’t know when it’s started- it wasn’t always this unrelenting. I usually blame my most recent ex-boyfriend, but in fact I think it started before him. I’m starting to remember him telling me I had low self-esteem. I never believed him when he told me. The reason it’s been weighing on my spirit lately, is because HIM told me I have low self-esteem. Yesterday, my girlfriend CUPCAKE told me I have a low self-esteem. BAIT, ÇA-RAGE, CELESTIE, PEACOCK, MS.MET & CRACKERS have all told me I have low-self-esteem. So I’m starting to think I might have low self-esteem.
I’m not sure where it came from. I feel like there must have been a time when I was sure of myself on many levels. I feel like there must have been a time when I was sure about myself with men. I’m not always so bad when it comes to my work. In fact, I usually feel at my peak of confidence when I’m on stage, or on set (or on stage ACTING, for that matter- though it’s been years since I’ve done a play. Sad-face). If I’ve showered, brushed my hair, put on a clean shirt- I usually feel pretty dauntless doing my every day activities. Not at the gym, (when I manage to get my lazy ass there) mind you. At the gym I constantly feel like a jerk. Over the years I’ve gone to yoga, Pilates, spin, boxing, karate, swimming, running, etc… & no matter what I do, I feel like I look like a hen with her head cut off, with cellulite on her thighs & a very sweaty guillotined head. At this point, I just suck it up & go… knowing that I’m rarely alone in my jackass-awareness. We're not all natural born athletes.
I realize I’m hard on myself. A lot of it’s a joke. People have said it’s damaging even in jest, but I also feel like it’s what makes me who I am. I know what I’m good at, & I know where my weaknesses lie. I hate letting myself off the hook. I know I shouldn’t crucify myself over every little flaw, & simply try to improve on what makes me unhappy about myself.
Yet my self-deprecation in regards to my relationships with men seems to have hit a new low in recent years. It’s got to be the reason why I’ve settled for men who don’t give me what I need- whether it be sexually, or emotionally. I’ve been afraid to speak my mind, to tell men what I want. I’m so afraid they’ll leave me. CUPCAKE, MS.MET, BAIT, PEACOCK & ÇA-RAGE have been urging me for years to see myself as a catch to men, trying to remind me that I have a lot to offer. The disturbing thing is, that I know they’re right. Deep down inside, I know I’m a good girlfriend, a good woman. I’m not sure why it’s so hard for me to believe. I can’t imagine a man making any sort of grand gesture for my love, let alone even think of me when I’m not with him.
One of the many problems with this negative mentality is that it begets itself on so many levels. It must be so boring for a man to know that I never feel worthy of him. It must be frustrating to try to convince me. Then they do get fed up, & take off. Who can blame them? That was one of the MAIN problems with my most recent ex, VIDEO STORE GUY. HIM says that I focus on the negative. I don’t know why it resonated so much when he told me (over everyone else) but it has. It’s making me feel terrible. He didn’t say it to be a douche, he said it because it’s true.
It’s so cliché, so obvious... until I can believe it myself- that I’m good enough- (in fact more than good enough) for someone else to love me, any romantic relationship will be doomed. Especially because the last thing I want is for someone else to save me, or to fix me. It’s sort of a paradox, or a contradiction. I want to have faith in myself without my self-assurance depending on if I have a man in my life or not, & yet I can never seem to believe in me without a man's love or praise. It's pathetic, really. Although not uncommon, unfortunately.
It’s interesting to me, because I think my friends are the best people on earth, & I never doubt THEIR love for me- so why can’t I believe that a man that I’m romantically entangled with, might even like me?

Today I’m really glad that I have FOUR WHOLE MONTHS left. It’s going to take me at least that long to BEGIN to figure out how to work on this problem. And it’s something I absolutely HAVE to do, alone.

10 Things You'll Have Mixed Feelings About Me.

2011-01-16T11:30:00.001-08:00

"Yesterday is dead and gone and tomorrow's out of sight
And it's sad to be alone. Help me make it through the night."
Kris Kristofferson, Help Me Make It Through The Night

I keep wondering what’s going to happen for me romantically after May 18th, 2011. The plan is to celebrate by putting HIM’s penis in my vagina, in Los Angeles. Putting it in, taking it out, and repeat. I would like to not be able to walk for a few days- for the sexy reasons, not like I put my back out. I would like to not do any interviews or answer any questions until a good week later. Any hotel that tries to promote a romantic vibe would be smart to put us up for the week, or at least a night. (Just putting it out there…) I want to wear a coat on the plane with nothing but smoking hot lingerie underneath & killer heels, & have HIM pick me up at the airport. I think we should do it in his car before we get home- just a hot, quick one- so that we can do it slowly & for real when we get home. I want a candle-lit dinner, wine, & sexy music. I need HIM to help me make up for lost time, & months of lying awake at night imagining things that no “respectable” woman should ever want to have done to her.
But then what?
Who knows? Will HIM be my “boyfriend”? I can’t even imagine THAT, right now. Part of me feels like I’ll never get a boyfriend again- that I’ll die alone, choking on a potato chip, with my cat & my wine & my Golden Girls re-runs. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it IS possible. If I ever DO get a boyfriend again, I feel I should just go ahead & give them a head’s up of what he’s in for:
1. Before I go on-stage, I’m like an open wound. I might SEEM normal; all joking around & being footloose & fancy-free, but take a dig at me or tell me some serious news & I might break down into hysterical bawling. I’m crazy & I get all in a weird headspace- even if the reasons why elude me.
2. I’m very shy about my ass. If you want to take a good look at it, or ask me to turn around while naked- I’ll do it- but inside I’ll be dying & want to gouge my eyeballs out with razorblades. Can’t you just stare at my boobs, instead? Those are MUCH more impressive.
3. If you bring/make me coffee in the morning, I’ll pretty much fall in love with you.
4. I often forget/am too lazy to take off my make-up and/or brush my teeth before going to bed. I rarely brush my hair. I get very gassy if/when I drink beer. I have a very dirty mouth & sense of humor. CODENAME: I’m gross. I’m not a “lady”, like PEACOCK, SOUTHERN BELLE, or my sister.
5. I will eat more than you will. If I don’t, I’m trying to look normal or polite. When I’m “done” eating, I will be wishing I were still eating.
6. If I’m your girlfriend & I love you, I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.
7. I’m terrible with money. I’ll spend all I have if it means we’ll have a good time in the moment. The next day, I’ll cry about how broke I am.
8. My family is crazy. Awesome, but nutso. Yours is also, you might just not realize it, yet. As long as you realize that no matter how many lunatics I’m related to- our familial love is unyielding & has the strength & gravitational force of a black hole, then you’ll be okay.
9. I love romance. I also love pigs. The reason I associate the 2, is because going to watch the 2 pigs at Riverdale Farm in Toronto is one of my favorite things to do on a date.
10. I want to have children. I want to have my own family, kids, animals & the like in a home that we share.

If I can find a man (or woman?) that can deal with me & know these things about me, (along with the fact that I can be moody, I take jokes WAAAAAAY too far, grosser than you think, etc…) then I’m golden.

For now I’ll just keep eating my chips & watching Golden Girls. Wish me luck.

All Aboard!!!

2011-01-14T14:26:00.000-08:00

My 8-month anniversary of dick-sobriety is creeping up. EIGHT MONTHS! I know. I can’t even believe it, myself. As life goes, it seems as though it was only yesterday I sat alone with my bong & Stinky (my cat) as I conjured up this ridiculous/awesome project. I’m getting there. I’m like the little vagina that could. I’m (sort of) almost over that high mountain, & I think I can, I think I can.
Despite continuously making stupid decisions on a daily basis, I still believe that I’ve learned a few things along the way. I think I’ve finally started to put my best interests 1st, & tried to be more grounded when it comes to men & my crushes. HIM is a good example; even though HIM is unlike any man I’ve ever known. If the universe wanted to school me on love- it really gave me the most challenging subject to work with. Seriously, universe. The man whom I (& millions of others) believe to be one of the most brilliant comedic minds of our time? One of the kindest, warmest, most intelligent, complicated people one might ever meet? REALLY? He’s the guy you had to put in my path for me to meet & fall for? You couldn’t have made it a little more lucid? You had to make it so that he serendipitously comes up in 90% of conversations that revolve around comedy? You couldn’t have made him look or smell gross, or be an asshole? You never thought that it might make my life & Manbbatical slightly easier if his touch wasn’t electric? Why am I so lucky/unlucky?
Whatever. All of this to say- if you thought I was going to be able to go to LA, & NOT see HIM, you are mistaken. I know it might be a set-back for me- but if you knew how much happiness & acumen he brings to my life, you would know why it’s killing me to stay away from HIM. I think I can. I think I can.
The stress of waiting honestly does feel like it’s killing me. I am enjoying my project, the lessons, the attention, and the entire cartel of the love-cleanse. That said- my ulcer is bleeding, again. I’m really one of the healthiest people you’ll ever meet, but when I get sick- I get FUCKING sick. It could be my financial stress, work stress, or a plain old need for some good old fashioned fucking. The reason this theory MIGHT make sense is because I’ve learned in the past 2 days that the only time my gut isn’t in bloody knots- are those few minutes of masturbation, which only happen bi or tri-weekly. My pills for Colitis pale in comparison to the wonders of long, multiple orgasms, in case you didn’t know.
So, if you want my advice, here it is: if you’re feeling anxious, worried, or freaked out about anything & it’s affecting your daily life- go jerk off. That’s right: burp your worm. Polish your banister. Ladies, go flick through the pink pages. Rub one out. Do what you have to do- but I (can almost) promise, it will relieve tension for a few moments, at least. It’s like taking a faster-acting, more intense, less-lasting Norco.
Maybe I’m obsessed with vibrator-blasting myself more & more because this self-imposed dry-spell is taking its toll. It might explain my headaches, my mood-swings, and my hunger for dong. I’m still looking for what will fill these voids (& not just my vagina-void) by anything that isn’t men or romance related. Working helps. Success helps. Laughs & love help.
But so do my sex-toys.
I’m just saying.

Turn And Face The Strange

2011-01-11T11:56:00.000-08:00

"OH! The good ol' Hockey game, is the best game you can name.
And the best game you can name, is the good ol' Hockey game."
Stompin'Tom Connors,The Hockey Song

I still can’t decide if people can change. Sometimes I think they can, because I’ve seen it in myself. Kind of. Not really. See? I know I’m more mature than I used to be (believe it or not), & I think I’m more open-minded & kind-hearted. I think I’m slightly less crazy than I used to be (believe it or not again). I suppose the bottom line is that I simply like myself more than I used to, which IS a change.
The whole point of this Manbbatical was for me to change my life. Obviously I would still be the same woman- I wouldn’t all of a sudden start wearing pearls on top of turtlenecks, or start listening to Theory Of A Creedleback, or anything ridiculous like that… But I wanted to be different. It scares me that the change I’m looking for may happen- but that it might only be a flash in the pan. I quit drinking (for several reasons) for a year & a half when I was 28-30. I didn’t ingest a drop of booze. Did I come out the other end with a good sense of balance & moderation regarding alcohol? Uh… no.
That said, something happened to me last night that really made me feel myself changing right to my very core. I feel like what I’m about to tell you is controversial, & I may lose some readers, let alone friends.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that I’m French Canadian. Although most of my life I’ve spent living & growing up in Toronto, I was born in Montreal, & also went to high school there. I am fluently bi-lingual & though I usually feel my Italian roots take me over- there is no denying that I’m a Frenchiser. Since my father was born & raised in Montreal, he is obviously a Montreal Canadiens fan. Even though baseball is more my sport, I never really had a choice but to accept my allegiance to the HABS as a birthright. If I need to explain the depths of the rivalry between the Toronto Maple Leafs & the Habs, this post will mean nothing to you. Let me just say that it’s an epic opposition, & has always been so. Because it’s such a part of my heritage, I almost like people less when I find out that they are Leaf fans. It makes me think they are stupid. Which is ridiculous. It’s as if I’ve been brought up to be racist against Leaf-lovers. Some of my closest friends are Leaf fans: HIM & PEACOCK, for example. Both lovely human beings, but Leaf fans nonetheless.
Last night, I went to the Staples Centre to watch the Kings play the Leafs. Obviously I knew that I would be rooting for the Kings. Anyone but the Leafs. Never the Leafs. But something weird happened. I started to get these weird, strange new feelings. I couldn’t recognize them, & I couldn’t stop them. Despite everything I’ve always known & have always believed in, I wanted the Maple Leafs to win. (If my father reads this post, there is a good chance he’ll never love me again, as much as he used to.) It felt as if I was discovering I might be gay. Like all along I’ve known my life to be one way, & just accepted it, because that’s how I was brought up. Yet these foreign feelings crept through my veins. I felt guilty. I felt ashamed. It felt like treason. Then in realized: I’m changing. And that’s okay. In fact, it’s good! Please understand: I’m NOT saying I’m a Leaf fan. What I AM saying, is that I don’t think Leaf fans are losers, or douche-nozzles, or brainless to have faith in a team that will never win. What I AM saying is that, little by little, I am changing. Many of you (Habs fans) may see this as a negative change.
I’m just excited that I can actually feel & see a transformation happening inside of me. Obviously, it’s about more than my fair-weather appreciation of hockey teams.
Besides, The LA Kings are way hotter than the Leafs & the Habs. When you think about it, that’s all that really matters.

Can't See The Forest For The Trees

2011-01-08T13:11:00.001-08:00

"Live, or die. But don't poison everything."
Anne Sexton

I’m in sunny LA staying with my bestie (BAIT) working, laughing, seeing friends… I have every reason to be happy & grateful at the moment- & yet, I completely lost my shit last night. Maybe it’s hormones, perhaps my up-coming 34th birthday, & it may just be that I REALLY need to get laid. Like, REALLY need to get laid. Thank God it was just BAIT & I- not in front of a group of people or a dude. It’s never cute when I transform into a lunatic. BAIT & I were having a normal conversation and POW. Me= batshit-crazy.
To speak frankly, I don’t feel like I’m alone in my craziness, lately. A few of my girlfriends have really been circling the drain themselves, lately. For the past two weeks, I literally feel like I’m drowning; I’m being swallowed by a dark sea- submerged, like a universal deluge that’s slurping up too many of my pals. It's as if I'm trying to tread water while there are bricks tied to my ankles.
It’s a tricky thing to feel low. There’s nothing more pathetic or boring than when one hangs themselves on the cross. I can’t STAND feeling sorry for myself, & I loathe listening to people piss & moan when they actually have it pretty good. But man did I indulge in some serious self-pity last night. I’m tired. I’m tired of being poor. I’m tired of the vag-mobile (my car) breaking down. I’m tired of having to choose between paying my rent, and paying my bills. I’m tired of feeling like no man will ever fall in love with me. I’m tired of being lonely. I’m tired of feeling like there’s always something missing. I feel like I’ve been working really hard for a long time, & I’ve got very little to show for myself except HPV- which I didn’t even know I HAD, for like, the past 5 years. Besides, I’m pretty sure every woman I KNOW has HPV. I’m finding increasing difficult to stay positive these days, which is ridiculous because everything is on the up & up. Or is it?
BAIT was quick to remind me of all I have to be thankful for. I know she’s right. She told me that many people would love to have my life. I suppose it’s all part of being an adult… It’s always a struggle, there’s ALWAYS something, & we just need to keep soldiering on.
With a little over 4 months left to go on the MANBBATICAL, I’m beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Though I’m bonkers with excitement, I’m also extremely nervous. What if nothing changes? What if I’m the same old me after all of this is said & done? What if I keep chasing unavailable men or assholes- never allowing myself to be in a happy, healthy relationship? What if when the dick-diet is over, I’ve learned nothing; have no more self-awareness or self-esteem than I did when I began the cock-cleanse? I’m not even completely sure what it is I WANT in 4 months. If I can’t be specific about that goal, how can I possibly hope to achieve it?
BAIT says that no matter what you have, or what you’ve achieved in your life, that you still feel anxious, sad and/or inadequate at times. I know that’s true. It just makes me sad. I guess you can only use yourself as a measuring stick- being proud of what you’ve done & pushing yourself to do more. I feel like I’m living the life that I wanted to live, I just feel like it would be nice to have more of a pay-off.
I suppose the lesson I need to learn is that I get extreme pay-off all the time- in my friends, my family, my work, my home… If all of those blessings can't make me happy & proud- then it’s doubtful anything else will.

Mercy Killing

2011-01-05T10:29:00.000-08:00

"Go that way, really fast. If something gets in your way, turn."
Charles De Mar, Better Off Dead (1 of the best movies, ever...)

I have decided I have to pull the plug on my non-relationship with HIM.
It’s breaking my heart, but it has to be done. I made a promise to myself that I would spend a year focusing on myself, & since I met HIM- he’s been taking up a lot of my brain & heart space.
I know some of you believe that when you find “love” or, “the one”, then you should make the most of that opportunity & not give up on it.
HIM is amazing in so many ways- but I am on a Manbbatical- and he is NOT my boyfriend. Do I “love” HIM? I don’t know. It’s not fair or appropriate for me to figure that out, right now. HIM lives thousands of miles away. HIM has a slew of his own reasons why he can’t be in a “relationship”. We cannot be together right now. End of story.
I’m afraid he’ll forget about me come May 18th 2011. I’m afraid he’ll forget about me period. That’s a chance I need to take. It sucks balls hard- (excuse the lack of poetry) & I hate it, but it’s the only thing I can do. (Please read other/older posts if you’d prefer more eloquent forms of expression. I’m too heavyhearted to be skillful with words, right now.)
My heart is breaking over it. I was to be absolved of all romantic love & heartbreak this year. I fucked up- I’m paying the price. I have to relieve this intractable suffering.
Robert Latimer still insists (after almost 20 years) that what he did was right. IN NO WAY am I trying to compare my lady-boner for HIM to an actual human life, but I hope in 20 years, I will look back with the same calm resolve as Mr. Latimer has.

I’m glad Latimer finally free. I’m looking forward to when my heart has finished it’s own confining sentence.

"I guess this is what I'm supposed to learn
I guess this is what I'm supposed to learn
But learning is so devastating"
Hawksley Workman, Devastating

Hide Your Love Away

2011-01-02T11:29:00.000-08:00

Don't haunt this heart
Don't haunt this place...
The Rural Alberta Advantage "Don't Haunt This Place"

While I was in LA last month, I hung out with an old friend/colleague of mine- GUEST. We went to a party in Los Feliz. We haven’t seen each other in a couple of years, but we always pick up right where we left off. We have worked together several times, & he’s often stayed with me when he visits Toronto. (It is strictly a plutonic relationship. He’s dated a number of my close girlfriends, & vice-versa.)
GUEST is a very hipstery, good-looking man. He’s funny & accomplished. He’s got a lot going for him. He dated a women for a few years, & their relationship seemed from afar to be very passionate, & tumultuous. I never questioned their love for each other, but I never knew if they were fighting/still together, or not. It seemed to me that they either really fucking LOVED each other, or they really couldn’t stand each other. That antithesis is pretty common with fiery relationships like those. It’s how ALADIN & I were, together.
The point is, when GUEST & I found a quiet area at that party to sit & catch up, he looked like a shell of a man. His eyes were vacant & his smile seemed forged- apparently he & his lady had broken up a year ago, & he’s still reeling from the pain. It was all he could talk about with me, asking me questions of how I got over ALADIN, if I ever did, & how.
I don’t wish heartbreak on my worst enemy. It’s the worst. There’s nothing worse than waking up in with that malignant emptiness, knowing you’ve lost someone… that you have to get through the day (& the rest of your days) without them. Food loses it’s richness, drinking inevitably ends up a shit-show of anger &/or tears, work seems impossible & unfair, & even blessings feel like curses. It’s all you can think about- & even if a tiny thought of semi-happiness creeps in, it’s instantly banished by the desolate army of distressed ideas in your mind. As GUEST sat there almost crying to me, I felt like an open wound. I could feel EXACTLY what he was feeling, & it began to corrode my insides.
I have stopped letting myself feel like that (for more than 4 days) for the past few years. I simply refuse. Although it seems I can open my heart (& my legs!) as wide I want to a lover & let them completely fill me up, I’ve been mastering closing it up as quickly & as efficiently. (It’s sort of like Ali Baba & The Forty Thieves. It’s as though my affection is the treasure that lay in the cave, which can only be opened & sealed shut again by magic words.) My way of coping with heartbreak may not be legitimate in the eyes of therapists, but in the short-term, it works for me. It may be juvenile & counter-productive, but if you know the searing agony that is heartbreak- then you know you do what you have to do.
I get rid of ALL of his contact information. I delete any emails, photos, texts, cards, & paraphernalia. That way, no matter how drunk I become- I have NO WAY to drunk-get-in-touch with him. As far as technology is concerned, he & I never had a relationship. I stop listening to the music he likes, or any songs that remind me of him. I stop going to where he goes, or where he might be. I don’t ask about him. I force myself to act like he doesn’t exist- because if for a moment I realize that he actually DOES- it paralyses me. Don’t be sad for the destruction of palpable memories. Those things don’t really matter, in the end. It’s not the card he sent, it’s the actual moment we shared that I hold onto, deep, deep inside.
Before my Manbbatical, my coup d’état when getting over a dude was to sleep with someone else as quickly as possible. I know how shitty that sounds- but again- until you’ve suffered love lost you can’t understand the magnitude of instant relief. I would rather think of ANYTHING/ANYONE else. SEX forces me to do just that. I realize this may not be a healthy approach. This is part of the reason I love my MANBBATICAL. I’m going to have to find alternate ways to deal with heartbreak. I know that bouncing from 1 man to the next (literally) isn’t going to solve the problem. In fact, it only adds fuel to the fire. It doesn’t feel amazing to look back at my incinerated path of relationships. There’s GOT to be a balance, like with everything else.
In month 7, I’m still trying to figure out what that balance is.

Love At 1st Sight

2010-12-31T12:47:00.000-08:00

I believe in love at 1st sight. It’s obviously not the same kind of love that 2 people end up sharing together after real intimacy, and/or history together- but I believe it exists, nonetheless. I know because it’s happened to me, a lot. The 1st time I MET ALADIN (I had been a fan of his band in high school…), he took my breath away before he spoke a word. I was literally winded. He was so beautiful- it was like the earth stopped spinning & gravitation had it’s own agenda for he & I. The 1st time I met TRI-POD, I was dating his best friend. When his friend introduced us, I knew I had chosen the wrong amigo. I knew that TRI-POD & I had a connection that needed to be effectuated. The same is true about my high school sweetheart, & my college boyfriend. The 1st time I MET HIM (obviously & as previously discussed, I’ve always know who HIM is) I knew I had to make HIM mine. I hate saying that- it sounds so provincial, but that's how I felt. In my opinion, who could blame me for falling instantly in love with ANY of these men? They’re aren’t the only men I’ve instantaneously fallen for (or LOVED, BTW...)- but these are my personal best examples of being whipped by love’s coup de foudre. They are each so charming, talented, sexy, funny… I feel like no woman or gay dude with seeing eyes & a beating heart could disagree, but I sure am glad that lots of have.
One of the (many) problems with falling for somebody before you really know whom he or she is, is that you create an IDEA about who they are, that is usually delusive. This isn’t to say that they are worse than you imagined them to be, but you should certainly expect them to be different than the make-believe person you’ve conjured up. Along those same lines, is when one (ME) puts them on a pedestal, it isn’t fair to anybody involved. It’s not fair for HIM (for example) because he never asked to be placed up there. He never denied or tried to hide who he is, what he wants, or what he’s capable of. It’s also unjust, because now he has nowhere to go, but down. The reason it’s unfair to ME is that, I’m basically saying HIM’s better than me- not giving myself any credit.
Unfortunately for me, putting the men I’m dating/not dating/am hot for on such a high horse, is a bad habit. I so often think I’m not worthy of their affection, that they can & will do “better” than me, that I’ll never be “enough” for them. Equally as unfortunate, is that by feeling so strongly that way, my heart gets broken regularly- it begets itself.
I should know by now, that taking things slowly in a relationship is not to be underestimated. Getting to know someone, getting to know yourself WITH him or her, & allowing her or him to get to know who YOU really are, is such an asset for a strong foundation of a relationship.
For those of you who follow my Manbbatical like the soap opera that it (almost) is, I’ll tell you that HIM hasn’t let me down in any way- if that’s what you’re thinking. Is it difficult to care about a man who’s legacy has inspired me (almost) my whole life? Who cares about me too- but who lives thousands of miles away? Who is NOT my boyfriend, who hates to be alone & who loves women? Who I love to hang out with, talk to & (yes, even) flirt with? Fuck. Yes. It’s tearing me apart. The whole point of this year was to STAY AWAY FROM THIS KIND OF BULLSHIT. I know the heart wants what it wants, but my brain & common sense also want what they want- & I can’t keep ignoring that.
So, I admit it. In that respect, I’ve fucked up this project. I fell for HIM. I’m feeling the blow, & it hurts.
Now it’s time for me to pick myself up, & keep going.
PS. I have NOT fucked HIM. Believe me, I’d be yelling off the rooftops/tweeting mercilessly if I had! Unfortunately, in NO WAY does that alleviate my affection for HIM.

So Far Away

2010-12-29T04:25:00.000-08:00

"The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart."
Helen Keller

Here’s the problem when you fall for somebody who lives in a different country, & you’re not allowed to date them- let alone cement any kind of commitment: I’ve been lying awake, convinced that HIM’s boning someone else. And really, why shouldn’t he? Hopefully, for my sake, he isn’t. Realistically? He most likely is.
I’m not going to call HIM a man-whore. I don’t like the connotation- for men OR women. If you meet someone, & you both consent to getting it on, then by all means, what’s stopping you? I’d much rather be free & open & willing with my feelings than go around frustrated & costive all day (which is how I’ve been feeling, lately).
Some people have expressed to me that they think it would be shitty of HIM to fuck around. The rational part of me doesn’t agree, though my heart accedes with their opinion. Is it really fair to ask a man, whom I’ve only known for a couple of months- days spread out when we’re (rarely) in the same city, to commit to me? I’m not even allowed to engage with him (on that level), myself.
My fear is less that he’ll sleep with someone, & more that he’ll meet someone he really likes, & (God forbid) fall in love with her. I hate it when I think about these things, & here’s why:
1. If I really cared about HIM, wouldn’t I just want HIM to be happy, even if it’s not with me?
2. If he DOES meet someone, & pursues it, & gives up on me- well… then it really wasn’t meant to be, was it?
HIM has assured me that he’s not in a place in his life where he wants to be in a relationship. (Have I learned NOTHING? GOD! I really know how to pick ‘em…) Obviously, sex does not a relationship make. I’ve been very clear about the fact that I don’t want to know, hear, or see about what he does with girls when I’m not around. He can do what he wants (obvi), but leave me out of it, in every way.
I guess I’ve come to realize lately, that when I care about someone, (not only romantically, but familial or platonically) it’s much less about how much he or she like me, & more about how much I love them. I’m not sure that’s necessarily a bad thing, but it sure breaks my heart often enough.
If I were a woman (not ME, but another woman) out in LA, & I met HIM… I would pounce on HIM. I mean, in my eyes- it’s impossible to not think he’s amazing. (FUCK. I REALLY hope he doesn’t read this! Yikes! I’ll be done for. I’m not saying to keep secrets or hide how you feel, but some hands are better played close to your chest.) I would take every opportunity to be with HIM, & love the shit out of HIM.
Look, I’ve SEEN his schlong & his bum in 2 films. That’s not helping me, either. It’s not just about sex with HIM… It’s about WHO he really is. It’s not all & always good. Yet even the shitty elements to consider are aspects that I find interesting & challenging, & quite frankly- a lot like me. I’m not just counting down the days until I can be with HIM. I truly am enjoying this time alone, figuring things out, dissecting my problems when it comes to love & romantic relationships. This is a big one for me. It would be a very sentimental, idealistic notion to think he’ll stay celibate until May. Do I think it’s a reflection of his feelings for me whether he does hook up with some tart, or doesn’t? I’d be lying if I said no. Were our situations reversed, however- I’d also be lying if I said I wouldn’t let a little sexy-time of my own slip in, once in a while. We’re only human- & I really don’t want to deprive HIM (or myself) of anything.Like I keep repeating, a lot can happen in 4 ½ months. I really hope HIM’s still there, at the finish line. I mean- I know he’d want to bone me- but it would be nice to see where this could go, with us. Though realistically, we live at opposite ends of this widespread continent.
Maybe everything about HIM & I (together) is pointing in a contradictory direction. At least this time, I have months to figure that out, & hopefully, make the best decision for me.

It's In The Cards

2010-12-27T19:32:00.000-08:00

"What a difference a day made
Twenty-four little hours
Brought the sun and the flowers
Where there used to be rain"
Dinah Washington, "What A Difference A Day Made"

The holidays are a very strange, stressful time of year. No matter how frenzied or insane your family- it’s an opportunity to hope for some nice moments you can keep with you as a tonic- for the times you might want to murder your family. Christmas really is for kids- generally, they don’t have any pressure on them regarding family politics, off-limit topics, the feeling of having accomplished nothing in your life… I miss the days when the holiday season had no guarantee that there would be at least a few obligatory days of sadness attached. I happened to have a wonderful Xmas, this year. I had financial stresses (like anybody else) & a few worries, but the celebrations were lovely & drama free.
As December 25th's faithful companion, New Year’s Eve brings the inevitable refection of our past year. Every year, I try to look back with pride, & ahead with excitement. Every year I’m daunted with regret & anxiety. Each year there are moments I feel like I’m hanging on by a thread. Yet I always seem to get by, have some semi-flashy accomplishment that I talk up, to justify my lifestyle. Though so many great things have happened to me this year- in 2010, I’m still suffering the same pothole existence I’ve been actively trying to withdraw from.
I’m still boy-crazy. I still smoke. I’m still poor. I’m still fatter than I’d like to be.
Granted things have improved immeasurably in the past 12 months, or so. At least I’ve been pro-active in terms of (at least trying to) turning things around. I’ve been very consciously trying to make better decisions, to be more patient, & trust myself. It’s paying off, but ironically, not fast enough. I’m trying to put my (for real) best interests, 1st. On a related note, I’ve been slouching less.
Each year, 1 of my favorite, private holiday rituals, is to do my own tarot card spread. I always do the zodiac spread, trying to determine what the future holds for me in the year ahead. I’ll quit bragging, but my readings for the past 2 years have been dead on. I KNOW I sound like a flake. But as each new person & opportunity came into my life in 2010- I knew exactly whom he or she were, & what they were doing with me- it was if I had been waiting for them. Sadly, each aspect of my life that fell apart (breaking up with my ex-boyfriend after 2 ½ years) I also saw coming. It obviously goes much deeper than the cards I pulled, or my interpretation. Sometimes it’s nice to read something you already know to be true in your heart- it validates it, even if it’s all smoke & mirrors. It’s like religion.
The truth is, 2010 has been pretty kick-ass, for me. It’s really only this year that I’ve begun to learn how to think positively. Whether you find it coincidental or not, this is the 1st year where I genuinely AM proud of myself, for a number of reasons. The bottom line was- I wanted to try new things, & I did. I learned that when you really, genuinely, in the depth of your being, want something- you can have it. It won’t be easy, & often won’t be fun- but if it’s really worth having, you can make it happen.
The turnover of the date & year mean nothing- really. It’s just a day that forces us to move ahead, in a more obvious way. There’s no sense in waiting… if you want to change something, do it now. You don’t need to pigeonhole yourself by believing that you’re an extremist, or lazy, or unlucky, or happy. I know I sound all preachy & new-agey, but life can be better than it is.
Look forward to 2011 & my up-coming 34th birthday. (And NOT just because I can finally boink HIM...)
Who knows what will happen.

Justify My Love

2010-12-25T20:47:00.000-08:00

"Heaven and Earth have their opening and closing. Yin and Yang develop from each other. Mankind is created through the union of Yin and Yang and embodies the sequence of the seasons and elements. If one abstains too much from sexual union, then one's Spirit will not develop; since the harmonious interchange of Yin and Yang energies will have ceased. Through regular practice of Healing Love, it is possible to derive great benefit to one's health from the enjoyment of the senses, through sexual intercourse".
Yi Shen Fang

When I 1st began the Manbbatical, people asked me how I would deal with my imminent horniness. I joked with my interrogators; I said I wasn’t worried, I told them I would deal with it in my own way. I have been. I masturbate. That’s all I can do. Obviously it’s fun & the orgasms temporarily quench my sexual thirst, but at month 7, I AM DYING. People sometimes get on my case, saying they’ve gone YEARS without getting laid & to get over myself, & to them I say- that’s YOUR problem. For me, three months of sex-sobriety is a dry-spell. The reality is, I usually have a boyfriend, or am involved with someone. As a result: my boy-craziness.
Being horny in general is uncomfortable, but being horny when you’re crushing hard on someone is torturous. Imagining all the things I want to do to him? Fantasizing about all of the things I want him to DO TO ME? Here’s what NOT to do to fuel that raging fire: DO NOT read romance novels. Guys, I don’t know how to relate this to you- it’s not porn. Porn is porn. Romance novels are not something I read often- it’s a treat that I indulge in maybe twice a year. During month 7 of no sex, it’s like sliding on your best pair of “Bad Idea Jeans”. Know what else is a really stupid idea when starved for intimacy & physical touch? Reading books on how to maximize a man’s sexual pleasure. Why am I reading these books, you may be asking yourself? I have no fucking idea. I guess I have a real self-punishing disposition.
As some of you may know, I have a serious lady-boner for HIM- a man that I’ve been not-dating for the past 2-½ months, but whom I think about often- usually horizontally. HIM is the man I plan to re-pop my cherry with the day my Manbbatical ends, on May 18th, 2011. People have suggested that they are worried about his sexual performance on the occasion, because of the pressure due to the circumstances. I am not worried. HIM has basically been sexually active since I was born. He’s been around the block in terms of the ladies. I can only imagine that he’s been under all kinds of inveiglement & sexual cogitation. The truth is- I may destroy HIM. But I have faith in HIM & his abilities. I don’t want to be able to walk for a few days. I don’t plan on leaving his bed for as long as possible. I’ve had several requests for interviews for those last days of the project, & I’m hoping I won’t be able to talk from my mouth being full. Too far? Too soon? Too bad. I’m DYING for it. I’m a woman who is physically affectionate to begin with. I like to touch people- whether it is a stroke on the arm, a rub on the back, and a hug for my friends, kisses for my loved ones… I LOVE being touched as often as possible by a man that I’m into. Playing with my hair, touching my leg, holding my hand, kissing me, playing with my breasts, feeling me… I have 4 ½ months left to go, & I’m already shopping for sexy lingerie. I already want to take HIM away on a trip so that we can be trapped in a hotel room & not leave our dirty sheets. I’ve been dreaming about all the spicy activities I want to get into with HIM that I’ve never done with ANYONE, before. I’ve been learning & getting ideas from these filthy books I’m reading, & all I can do is restrain myself from flying to LA & putting all of the x-rated lessons into practice on HIM. When I think about HIM, my cheeks flush & I instantly get wet.
Maybe he is the poorest/luckiest bastard I’ll ever sleep with. I may leave him for dead, but I hope not. He’s got a lot of work to do to make up for lost time. I’ve got a plethora of sexual acts I want to lay on him, & vice-versa.
I need to keep in mind that 4 ½ months is still a lot of time, & anything can happen. He may not be into it, come the spring. I may not be, either- but I don’t see this desire for him subsiding any time soon.

Twisted Sister

2010-12-21T22:47:00.000-08:00

A sister can be seen as someone who is both ourselves and very much not ourselves - a special kind of double.
Toni Morrison
If I were more like my sister, I never would have had to swear off of dudes & dating. Where I'm all over the place, she's grounded. Where I'm flaky & indecisive, she's disciplined. Many men have fallen for her, but she's always known whom to love, & whom to trust.
When I was little, I always wanted to be just like, & spend all of my time playing with my sister, (CC). Wearing her clothes, befriending her pals, & sleeping with her in bed. When I was scared or stressed out, I would climb under her covers, & wake her up. I would badger her with questions about what it felt like to be older, more mature, less scared. She was always so self-assured. I wanted her charm, hilarity, smarts & talent to rub off on me. (You should know that CC is an infinitely more talented actress, singer, joke-teller & writer, than I am. She just chose a more practical lifestyle.) We had a love-hate relationship well into our late (LATE) teens, early 20’s. We physically fought. We got locks on our bedroom doors in high school. Although there was no one we loved more, we usually couldn’t stand each other while in school. She would tattle on me, I would harass & embarrass her. At the end of the day, no one understood us more than one another, & 1 look was all we needed to instinctively know exactly what the other was thinking, or feeling. We share weird, inexplicable fears (of black holes & extraordinarily large objects, etc…) & both developed motion sickness at the same time in our adult-lives. We both have bad backs, the same eyeglass prescription, the same breathing problems, & bruise easily. We both cry easily & laugh even more fluently- often at inappropriate moments. Though we have diversely different styles, we always know precisely what the other would wear. We love the same literature, films & TV shows. She knows more about sports than any dude I know. She’s fluent in English (obvi), French, Spanish, and German & understands Creole & Italian. She’s travelled the world on her own dime. She dug wells in Africa for clean drinking water, while I danced on bars with lampshades on my head. She sits on many boards, & raises & donates tons of money for charity each year.
CC looks a lot like me. The older we get, the more we (very) often get mistaken for twins. We are the same height, same build, have the same great features & the same problem areas. With a few exceptions, (her hair is thicker, her feet & boobs smaller, her nails a different shape…) we look almost identical. She works very hard at keeping her body in top shape- she eats well & works out on the regular.
She is 2 1/2yrs older than I, but people can never decipher the age difference.
CC has worked incredibly hard for everything she has. She put herself through university with part-time jobs & scholarships. She knew from a tender age that she wanted a career in radio. She volunteered in all the places that would further her calling. She studied tirelessly in school to get good grades, & then worked her ass off to make money- in order to not burden my parents with “her” financial responsibilities. She put her pride aside, & took all the jobs in her field that would inform her, & allow her to network.
She met her husband at a young age. She was 21. They were married 2 days after her 24th birthday. I stood up for her, & it was one of the happiest, proudest days of my life. (I have a feeling I’m losing some male readers, at the moment. Hang in, fellas. She’s really hot, if that helps? AND she's got a great rack?) Her husband is one of the most wonderful men you’ll ever know. He supports CC, fights for her, is tender with her, strong, & has a great sense of humor. He also buys her stuff. Not only does he put up with our cackling & jackasseries, he often indulges us. He is the kind of man I would like to share MY life with. They have been married for 13 years. Theirs is a story of only a very few, that help me believe that marriage can actually work.
Over the years, both of them have achieved great levels of success in their respective fields. They worked hard & made informed, effective financial decisions & own a beautiful home- that they purchased with the financial help of no one but themselves. They have suffered some difficult times, but always seem to come out on the other side, better than they were, before.
CC & her husband (BROINLAW) have a brand-new, beautiful baby girl (TINY NIECE). TINY NIECE has brought my whole family (including my mother & step-mother, who had never spoken for obvious reasons) together. Her existence is miraculous & the best gift we could ever hope for. If she turns out to be half the woman her mommy is, she’ll be one lucky girl. CC is also a natural when it comes to parenting. She lights up with TINY NIECE. Is there anything this woman CAN’T do?
Look- she’s not perfect. No one is. But she’s pretty close, & I’m lucky to be related to her. I’m still hoping all of her qualities rub off on me, after 34 years of being her little sister.

My Letter To Santa Claus.

2010-12-18T22:36:00.001-08:00

Dear Santa,
This year I’ve actually been pretty good. It might not look like it (compared to nuns, philanthropists, honest people, teachers, doctors, nurses, firemen/women, Angelina Jolie, charity workers, Jane Fonda, (left-wing)activists, pro-baseball players, & other random do-gooders…), but I have been. I’ve been trying to get my shit together, Santa. I mean, I still like to get high, drink my face off, eat crap, & fuck around- but I’m really starting to evolve. I’ve been writing a lot. I’ve been working hard on my stand-up. I’ve been focusing on my acting, as well. I’ve lost a little over 30lbs in a good way- not with cocaine or starvation. I keep my apartment clean, pay (most of) my bills, & have been trying to think before I speak/act, & I’m trying to be positive & kind to others. I’m trying to open my heart. Some days I act like a huge bitch, but at least I realize it, & feel badly for it, after. I try to make amends. I try to pay it (my blessings) forward- but not like that terrible film that K-Pax is in. Why was that film so bad, Santa? WHY? Oh? & Santa? I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m on a Manbbatical. That’s right- you heard me- I’m not dating or even FUCKING. You know how boy-crazy I am, Santa… It’s not been easy at all. I’ve been tempted many times. Lots of cute boys are all around me all the time, which I often think might be an unrelenting gift from you, from last year. So, thank you for that, Santa.
I’m pretty blessed. I have everything I need, so I feel slightly badly asking you for anything. Since I’ve been so good this year, I think I’ll just put it out there, anyway. I mean, after all, lots of ungrateful brats & stupid assholes get shitloads of crap that they don’t need, am I right? I mean, the Kardashians, Santa? Seriously? While other honest, hard-working people are circling the drain, & underappreciated, or poor.
Xmas makes my throat close up, Santa. It’s not that I don’t love my family- I mean, they’re no more insane than anyone else’s genetically-linked crew- but I just don't like being alone during the holidays. Maybe if you could drop a bottle of Diazepam in my stocking to get through the day, it would really help? Maybe a few bottles of booze on the North Pole’s tab, as well? You may as well stuff in some sex-toys for me, while you’re at it. I mean, my vibrators (Lancelot & Cletus) have been great, but a girl’s got to spice it up, if you know what I’m saying. If you don’t mind, I could use a few thousand bucks. I mean- you’ve seen my vag-mobile, right? It’s no sleigh pulled by reindeer. She’s losing steam, & I need her for my work. Worrying about rent every month is no picnic, either, Claus.
Look- I know you’re really busy this time of year- but I don’t feel like I’m asking a lot. It’s not like I’m asking for something Herculean like world peace! I’m not THAT much of a douche! But if you could find it in your heart, or your big red bag (eeeewwww! SAN-TA! Grow up!) to bring me some love, health & happiness (codename: cash, drugs, & a fake penis) it would be greatly appreciated.
Thanks, Santa. Good luck out there, this year. Don’t eat too many cookies. My family always left you pickles & beer. That’s when I knew that you & I could get along. Also, that’s when my parents were married, & we Brosseau(s) were a tight-knit little group. There’s much more of us, now. Everyone seems happier, but I’m still alone. Maybe you could arrange for me to meet “the one” this year? My Manbbatical ends May 18th, 2011.
Thanks for everything, & Merry Christmas! I don’t have a chimney, but I’m sure I’ll see you, flying high, in the sky, in your sled. I’ll most likely see that, because I’ll be intoxicated. Like, SUPER wasted. It is the holidays, after all…
Love always,
clairey

Home Is Where The Lady-Boner Is

2010-12-16T21:01:00.001-08:00

Begrudgingly I flew back to Toronto, today. As my plane harrowed through the clouds descending onto my hometown, the hot sun that had kissed my cheeks in LA just this morning was nowhere to be found. It’s cold, damp, dark & snowy. It was a great trip, from beginning, to end. I got to pal around with some of my comedy idols (including 1 of the creators of The Simpsons). I spent days & nights with my best friend. I had fantastic meetings that surpassed my wildest expectations. It was t-shirt & jean weather- my favorite. I got to spend hours on end with HIM- including going to CBS to watch HIM tape a segment for CRAIG FERGUSON.
To be fair, my flight home was as sweet as I could have hoped for. HIM drove me to the airport this morning, & sweetly kissed me goodbye- before I popped a Vicondin that I hungrily washed down with coffee to make my traveling way more awesome. I cried like a little asshole upon leaving BAIT, & then again when leaving HIM.
Upon arriving at my terminal, I noticed the most handsome little scenester. Obviously a musician, or an artist type. Obviously too young/cool for me. Obviously so cute there was NO WAY I was going to let this opportunity pass me by. Wouldn’t you know? Of the approximate 200 seats on the plane, we were seated right next to each other. He held my coffee as I struggled to get off my sweater & my carry on bags. I didn’t look so bad for 7am & a very tipsy 3hrs sleep, if I do say so, myself. I NEVER talk to anyone whilst travelling. For some reason, I thought I should fire up a conversation with my new little hottie-travelling-companion, who was travelling from LA to Toronto via Chicago- just like me. Guess what? Our seats from O’Hara to YYZ were also right next top each other (but across the aisle…) so; He & I spent the day together. Of course, he’s in a band. (& A pretty fucking cool one, at that!) He knows my EX (ALADIN) & we have other mutual friends. He’s staying with friends 2 blocks away from my place, in town. I gave him (I’ll name him LIL’ HOTTIE) my number. We’ve exchanged a couple of texts. Nothing serious, nothing flirty. I miss HIM, with all of my heart. Were it not for my Manbbatical, however, I might have made a serious pass at LIL' HOTTIE. Maybe a little kissy-kissy in the sky? Who knows? But I’m behaving (kind of.) There’s my Manbbatical. There’s HIM. There’s ME, for fuck’s sake!
I’m back home, nursing a/4 beers, cuddling & making up lost time with my kitten, catching up on work, & already checking availability & prices on flights to LA for January. I have zero desire to be here. LA feels like it was just a dream. I was surrounded by people who excel at what they do, who are driven & inspired & hungry in a way that I want/need to be. It lit a fire under my ass. I want to live there. I have many friends, there. I could work there. I could ignore winter’s blistery injustice. I could hang & work with BAIT in person, on a regular basis. That city is electric. I can feel it in my bones as soon as I pull into town. LA is where I belong.
It’s good to be in my own space, I suppose. Even if the VAG-MOBILE is dead inside (much like moi). I can’t afford to fix her. Pray for a miracle, folks. Move it to the top of your list of wishes. You know how important this is!!! Do you WANT me to play Hamilton, or NOT?!? Do you want me to live the dream OR NO?!?
I can write normally, again. Eat properly, sleep well, concentrate, gig, make money, go to the gym, not have to be too shy to go poo in someone else’s house. Yeah, all the stuff is way more awesome than chillin’ in LA with my bestie, doing the work I love, being near the man who makes my heart beat aflutter… Trudging through the bitter snow instead of flip-flops & a laissez-faire ‘tude is just dope. Find a way, universe. Find a way to get me to LA.

My Heart Is Never Gonna Wither

2010-12-14T11:34:00.000-08:00

Didn't I make you feel like you were the only man?
And didn't I give you nearly everything that a woman possibly can ?
Honey, you know I did!
And each time I tell myself that I, well I think I've had enough,
But I'm gonna show you, baby, that a woman can be tough.
Janis Joplin, Piece Of My Heart

LA, Day 6.

I’m in the desert, with BAIT, & her boyfriend. Let’s call him, “TIDY DISASTER”. We’re at friend’s house in Palm Springs, sitting by the pool. I will say that 10 minutes ago, I took a narco, my ulcer medication, anti-depressants, anxiety pills, & am sipping a large glass of white wine. CHEERS, LIZ TAYLOR! I’m also smoking a cigarette.
If you think about it, the fact that I’m a smoker says a lot about how much/little I care about my health. I mean, I’m a chronic asthmatic, my lungs have collapsed 3 times, I have a heart condition, & have suffered a heart attack (as discussed in “The Life & Death Of Claire Brosseau”). I have suffered from ulceric colitis for the past 7 years, & I still eat spicy food, drink coffee by the pot-full, & wine by the box-full. I have a herniated disk in my back, & always offer to help my friends move, or lift heavy bags. Both my parents have had constant problems with Melanoma, & I tan when I can sans sunscreen. Too much salt makes me sweat, harbor for breath, & feel bloated, & I dump it on everything I can, including gummy bears. I usually forget to ask waiters if there are nuts in my meal- just flaky enough to die for some pie. Comedians have always broken my heart, & I continuously fall for them, & pursue them with fervency. Some might say I have a self-destructive streak. I don’t know why I do this to myself. I don’t even hate myself (anymore). In fact, I kind of dig myself. If I saw a friend treat himself or herself as shittily as I treat myself, it would tear me up. I would never treat someone else I care about with such callousness. Why do I do it to myself? It’s not like the career path I’ve chosen isn’t difficult enough- why do I insist on making everyday living more difficult than it has to be by actively ruining my mental & physical health? Don’t worry- these narcos aren’t downers, it’s just my stream of thought. I’ve just been wondering why I persistently make bad choices.
The Manbbatical is the 1st good thing I’ve done for myself in years. It’s a great project on so many levels: it allows me to focus on myself & have a complete overhaul of my life for 1 year- forcing me to step back before jumping into a relationship, & investing myself in something/someone else But on many levels, I feel like I’m even sabotaging this perfect plan, by having “fallen” for HIM.
I HAVE made many good choices. My friends are the best. I really can’t believe how lucky I am to have SO many, amazing, generous, loyal, talented people who love me. That MUST say something about me. I made a good career choice- even though I live (way) below the poverty line, I love what I do, & wouldn’t change it for anything. I go to therapy every week, & my therapist is THE BEST. I was lucky to have found her, but I go every week (unless I’m away or have an audition) no matter how hung-over, tired, or generally too lazy to get across town I feel. I chose great representation/management (acting, comedy & writing) whom I trust & love. I moved away from a city that I love (Montreal) to a city that I knew would light a bigger fire under my ass, & offer more opportunity in terms of my work (Toronto). When my family or friends ask me to do something- or stop doing something- I adhere to their request. I’m a good aunt. I’m a good friend. I’m a good sister, & a (kind of) good daughter (most of the time. Well, at least according to my mom…).
BAIT & I have been talking a lot this week about carving out a place in our own hearts for us, only. A place that no one else can touch, that’s just for me. What I like, what I want, what I do- that’s completely untouchable to all others. I’m working on that. THAT would be a great choice. Just a little chunk of myself that’s reserved for only ME. Not to give away to HIM, friends, family, the audience, my readers, not even BAIT. A place that I can rely on, that I love, where I can be happy- at peace. Essentially, that is the bottom line for this Manbbatical. If I can carve out that place in my heart- I think everything about me can be better not only for everyone else to enjoy, but more importantly, myself.

Hot For Teacher

2010-12-09T12:49:00.000-08:00

“Smoked my stuff and drank all my wine
Made up my mind, make a new start
Goin' to California with an achin' in my heart”
Led Zeppelin, Going To California

LA, DAY 1.
I’m here. In LA. It took me 3 ½ days of (pretty much) non-stop driving… I decided to forgo the Grand Canyon & stopping off in Vegas… I jest felt I needed to get here. I couldn’t bear adding on any extra time in the car, no matter how beautiful the sights, or how shiny the lights might be. I was excited to see the Grand Canyon- the biggest hole in the world? AT LAST! SOMETHING to make my vagina look SMALL! Oh well… I know I’ll see it eventually. At a time when my back’s not tormenting me, & I’m not living on 5 hrs sleep & 10 coffees per day…

I love LA. Why would anyone ever want to leave this magical place? Especially if your best friend was here, the potential man of your dreams/future-ex-husband lived here, you were surrounded by people who excel at & produce all of the things you love to do… it’s inspiring. It’s sunny. I’m writing by the pool, knowing back home (in Toronto) there’s 3 feet of snow on the ground. I just had breakfast on a golf course with my bestie (BAIT, & her boyfriend…) as people chipped & putted away, & others rode by on horseback. You can buy individual margaritas at the gas station. Are you KIDDING ME, universe? What are you trying to tell me? You obviously never want me to leave, here.

LA, DAY 2.
I got to see the raddest thing ever, last night. HIM got up & did a (stand-up) set at an open-mic here, in LA. HIM hasn’t done stand-up comedy in THIRTY YEARS. It was SUCH a treat to watch him! I was jealous of my own self, & wishing that my comedy comrades (COWBOY CAT, MS.MET, CUPCAKE, PLAYA, SOUTHERN BELLE, PUMPKIN EATER, CRACKERS, BING-BANG, EXCALIBUR, FLOATING HEAD, GARY ST.KEVIN, VOT, etc…) had been there to see it. It was incredible. I was more nervous for HIM than he was, I think. He did 15 minutes. Every bit he delivered was great. I laughed my ass off. I just couldn’t believe it. He’s been talking to me about getting up, again. As a fan & a comedy nerd, I was VERY excited by this news. As someone who cares about HIM, I was thrilled, because I think it’ll be a great move for HIM. It was astounding that he just jotted down some notes in the afternoon, got up after 3 decades of stand-up abstinence, & gave a seamless, brilliant performance. If I skip 3 days of telling jokes, it takes me a while to shake off the rust…
It was fascinating to watch the (small) crowd. They obviously knew who he was, & were fans, & waiting to see what he would do. None of us were disappointed. Sometimes I forget that he truly is, (as far as I’m concerned) a comic genius. When I hang out with HIM, he’s obviously funny. He’s obviously entertaining. He’s obviously watchable (I’ve never been able to take my eyes off of HIM, long before we met…) but he’s also just a man. A wildly different kind of man than I’ve ever known, however. He was so cool & collected before getting up on stage. He wasn’t all weird & introverted & paranoid before he got up. He was just the right level of confident- which in fact is how is, most of the time. I feel so lucky that I get such an up-close, silent, private tutorial from one of the best comedy minds of my generation. I can just watch HIM be. It just makes me wonder what on earth I can possibly offer HIM, in return? I mean, I can’t even give HIM sex. I don’t mean to fish for compliments, or genuinely get down on myself, but seriously… What exactly is he getting out of this?
Whatever this relationship between HIM & I turns out to be, I'm just so grateful that he's in my life- in any capacity. He inspires me as a performer, & encourages me as a friend. He's loyal, reliable, & kind. Regardless of our (non) sex-life, his influence & friendship has meant more to me than he knows.

All of that said, LA is so great- I just want to stay. No offense, Toronto.

Lone Wolf McQuade

2010-12-06T07:07:00.000-08:00

Day 3 on the road towards LA from Toronto, & here’s what I’ve learned so far:

1. 4 star hotels are a lot different than super 8 motels. Don’t order a smoking room in a motel, EVER. Even if you haven’t been allowed to smoke all day & have only done so in the freezing cold, hiding around the corner from a gas pump for the past 3 days. IT STINKS IN HERE. It smells like dead hookers & apathy. Also, be careful of Stabby-Raper VonKillerpants in the next room. Tell someone where you are. Consider writing a “goodbye” note, to your loved ones. If he doesn’t kill you, you might begin considering it, yourself. Just sayin’.
2. There are lots of billboards along the highway for gun shops & “adult” superstores. Don’t be alarmed. Go in & check these places out. It will kind of blow your socks off.
3. Eating junk food on the road will certainly put you (me) in a food coma approximately 1 hour after ingestion. Try to stay away from bread, dairy, pop & sugar. The times when I’ve opted for salad, water & maybe a piece of fruit, I’ve driven much farther stretches & stayed wide-awake.
4. If you listen to the radio at all along the way, you will have very strong feelings about Jesus- one way or the other- by the time you reach your destination.
5. Racist bumper stickers are all the rage, down here.
6. Doing this drive sans GPS should be illegal. I never would have made it past Sarnia, Ontario without it. Big ups to my boy EXCALIBUR for suggesting it & lending me his. XOX
7. Sometimes no music, & no talking are nice. It’s astounding the long stretches I’ve done in complete silence, & liked it.
8. If you’re a comic, make sure to have an app on your phone with a voice-recording device (i.e. “voice demos”) you’ll see/hear/think of some great jokes along the way, & if you’re driving alone, you can’t write it down. Unless you have 3 arms & eyes on the back of your head. In which case, quit bragging, & you probably don’t even NEED to write jokes, because your look is a hilarious joke played on you by life, itself.
9. At night, stretch, do some sit-ups, push-ups & dance for a bit in your hotel room. Get your juices flowing.
10. Enjoy the scenery. It’s beautiful, in it’s way- even if it’s just farm after farm. It passes you by in a flash, & then you’ve already arrived when you wanted to be.

See you soon, LA…

The Life & Death Of Claire Brosseau

2010-12-04T17:29:00.000-08:00

“Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels
I don't know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels
I look around for the friends that I used to turn to pull me through
Looking into their eyes I see them running too”
Jackson Browne Running on Empty

I’m in Chicago. I’ve been driving for approximately 10 hours. I only started to get really excited when I passed the US border. It finally started to feel like a road trip, & not a chore. I could feel the foreign atmosphere in my bones. My mind raced & raced, & I tried to figure out my pacing in terms of incoming coffee & outgoing peepee. The owner of the car is a non-smoker- as is her 15month old baby- so needless to say, there’s no smoking in the car. I didn’t think it would be that difficult for me to drive sans cigarettes (I’m just not used to it) but I’ve gone through 3 packs of gum & had about 1 extra large coffee an hour. I was honestly so crusty about it, I almost lit up at a gas station. Maybe it’s good that I’m alone.
It would have been nice to have company- PEACOCK, MS.MET, ÇA-RAGE & BING-BANG had all been on the fence about coming along, but it’s a tough time of year to get away. I’m trying to enjoy the solitude. I sigh out loud a lot. I’ve been belting out songs. I’ve had some really deep talks with my GPS. She never really answers my questions about life, & yet somehow, I think it’s somewhat prophetic that she guides me in the right direction. I’ve been thinking about my jokes. I’ve thought about my family. I thought about how I died (as explained in “Are You There, God? It’s Me, Clairey”). I don’t often think of that time in my life/death- but I figured, “What the hell. I’ve got 46hrs of alone time to kill. Let’s do this.”
I rarely go down that mental path. I thought about the last few conscious moments before my heart stopped beating for 2 minutes:
I remember the immeasurable sadness of desperately wanting to live, knowing that I had spent a sizeable amount of time in my life wanting to die. I remember wondering what had been the point of me- my existence- on this earth, during this time? I remember the abysmal sorrow of thinking about what I was going to miss. I thought about all that I could’ve done, what I should’ve done- when I had the chance. I remember there was a mumbled discussion among the doctors, figuring out if I was having a heart-attack, as a bi-product of the shock. The pain in my chest was so sharp it was lifting the center of my body off of the gurney. I wanted to tell my mom to stop crying. I wanted more than anything to get the chance to tell her, the rest of family, & my friends how much I loved them- how lucky I was to have had the chance love them. How it wasn’t a waste just for having known them. I thought about my funeral. I thought about how my mother had lost too much in her life, & I knew she wouldn’t live through losing a daughter. Even if her body remained- she would be a shell of a woman- dead in every way that matters. (She had only JUST met her now husband.) I wanted to scream out at the universe that “If you’re taking me, you’re taking her with me! Is that what you want?! Both of us?! It was my stupid mistake!!! I just wanted to eat an egg-roll!” (I KNOW I should have asked if there were peanuts in it, but it slipped my mind…) I thought about what was happening to my body- my fingers had turned black, my tongue was swollen & my throat closed, my eyes were glued shut by some gross serum spewing from my eyes, my nose & ears were leaking, I lost control of my bladder & my bowels, my skin was covered in welts… I knew that the sexy South African doctor working on me would never love me after seeing me like this. I said a silent prayer, giving thanks for at least having a hot doctor to see me through to my dirt-nap. I knew what my physical body was enduring was torturous, but the pain shut off, at some point. My body made all of the appropriate responses of being traumatized & abused, but I couldn’t actually FEEL it, after a certain point. I know that was trying to talk- I just kept trying to say, “NO! NO! NO!...” before my heart stopped (& defibrillators) , they tried to intubate me for life-support, but because my throat had seized shut, they stuck a metal plate in my throat to keep an opening big enough for the endotracheal tube. There was no time for anaesthetic. (Ladies, you think deep-throating is uncomfortable…!?) I woke up from my coma the next day. I began making jokes. My father burst out crying. I realized in my inertia, I’d learned nothing of “there’s a time & a place…”
The thing is, I often wonder if I really learned anything from that experience, at all. I’m the same old jackass I always was- & I mean that in the best way possible. (?)
Well, that was kind of deep. I feel weird, now. I guess I should go out & enjoy Chicago. The boys here are really fucking cute. Unfortunately, I’m on a Manbbatical. Even more unfortunate, is that every man i meet or see now, pales in comparison to HIM. I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t EXTREMELY excited to see HIM, in LA. (& BAIT, OBVIOUSLY, but for different reasons.)
See? If I had died (& not risen from the dead as I did- I’ll quit bragging…) I never would have met HIM. & that would suck.

Queen Of The Road

2010-12-01T22:07:00.001-08:00

"Whither goest thou, America, in thy shiny car in the night?"
Jack Kerouac, On The Road

This Saturday morning, I’m leaving by myself to drive a friend’s car across America to Los Angeles. It’s a road trip I’ve always wanted to do, & this opportunity sort of fell right into my lap. I was to be in LA regardless, & my friend needed someone to get her vehicle there. I decided to go for it. My family is less than pleased. They think it’s dangerous for me to go at this alone, for a myriad of reasons. I keep trying to remind them that I’m a grown woman, but it’s hard to convince them when I’m so often juvenile & callow. I’m looking forward to it. I think the trip has befallen me at the most suitable time in my Manbbatical. I’ve struggling so much over the past 2 months… with my feelings for HIM, my own indulgences & despondency, & wondering if I’m getting anything worthwhile out of this project, at all. I’ve planned my route (mostly), but certainly am not unwilling to deviate from the course, if I feel the need. I guess that’s pretty reflective of how I live my life… I can think of nothing more constructive than to be alone, with only my tunes, my thoughts, the open road & myself. I can (try & begin to) figure out where I’m at, & take stock of what I’ve done so far. And what have I done, so far? What have I learned?
I’m past the halfway mark, & right now I feel like I’m no further ahead than I was on day 1. I mean, I’ve learned the discipline of committing to something- writing this blog, every 2 days or so. I’ve learned that if you put yourself under the microscopic view of the (internet) world, people will say really shitty things to, & about you, but others (in overwhelming numbers) will relate & be supportive. I’ve learned that if you take yourself off the market, you’ll never get more offers of sex, dates, kisses, &/or perverts wanting to get with you in some way. I’ve learned that when I really like someone (like, REALLY care for them) that I have only a marginal amount of self-discipline. (Were it not for HIM’s manners & gumption, I probably would have slept with HIM.) I’ve learned that I’m very horny. I’ve learned that I love romance. (I’m DYING to go out on a romantic DATE. Candles, wine, dressing up, whispers of naughty things & secrets, coming home & having sex…) I’ve learned that even though I desperately want to be through with comics, I don’t know if I ever will be. I’ve learned that I quite enjoy being alone. Like right now-I’m in my own, clean, little apartment, listening to Frank Sinatra croon Moon River, drinking wine, smoking cigarettes in my pajamas, with my cat… & I like that. (I honestly don’t give a shit how much of a clichéd single woman I sound like.) I want to be by myself tonight. I might regret that on my 4th day of solitude on the road.
You know what really cuts me deep? All of these things that I’ve “learned”, I already knew. I always know the right decision to make… we all do. We just don’t always make them. I guess the main thing I’m learning, is patience. And not because I want to- but because I have to.
I’m excited for this road trip. I think it will be good for me, for so many reasons. I’ll keep you updated with my stories from the road.

"What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? — it's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-by. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies."
Jack Kerouac, On The Road

I Just Called To Say I Love You. And, I Hate You.

2010-11-29T21:17:00.002-08:00

I’ve always been a jackass, since as long as I can remember. When I was in high school, at house parties I would change dentist & doctor’s appointments on the family calendar (in the same writing), & would turn up the heat to its maximum sufficiency before leaving, so the kids could really get their sweat on. I would order pizzas to my ex-boyfriend’s house, put moisturizing cream between the pages of his porn mags before shoving them under his bed (where I knew his mom vacuumed), move my friends’ cars as they played softball, put trash bins right outside the doors of classrooms (whereupon they would get deafeningly knocked over at the bell) & paint liquid paper on my teacher’s pants/butt to prove he wore the same ones, everyday.
In my adult life, this constant craving for douchebaggery & the spotlight, came forth when a bunch of us female comics were getting high & drinking at one of the ladies’ houses. I decided to crank-call some of our male counterparts. It made the girls laugh, & I had fun. It became my favorite party trick. We would scroll through the male comedians list of numbers & decide who my next sacrificial lamb would be. The best gag was to call a comic, pretend I was a huge fan (which would delight him) & proceed to recite another comic’s bits. He would then get angry, & tell me I had the wrong guy. The more I insisted, the funnier it was (for us) & the more affronted the comic became. Because many comedians are cursed with the noxious combination of low self-esteem and a huge ego (I’m talking about ME, & SOME, but not EVERYONE…) some of the guys were less than amused with my antics. Some were great sports & laughed about it. Some were furious with me. I had to do some damage control. My ex-boyfriend (VIDEOSTORE GUY) pleaded with me to stop. I should have realized it was the beginning of the end with us when I realized the prank was more important to me than his appeal.
Tonight I got a very creepy, weird, voice message. When my phone rang, it showed a “blocked” number, so as if I’m going to answer it. (I rarely answer when I DO know who’s calling… ) Most of it was inaudible. It sounded like a couple of men I can think of including HIM (though it can’t be HIM, for several reasons…) & also a bit like my dad. Which would be EXTRA creepy. The message started out with a man rambling on about being hungry & going to the fridge. Then he said, “I Love you. Was that so hard?” then he YELLED something crazy- like maniacal- & promptly hung up. I couldn’t make out what he was shrieking, but he sounded like he was certifiable, total section 8 styles.
Here’s the curious part: There are so many dudes I think it could/might have been. The message & my feeling towards it were so telling. It was all nice & sweet at 1st, & then CRAZY CRAZY CRAZY. Just like so many of the men I’ve loved (including family). All nice in the beginning, & then I’m scared they’re trying to murder me while I sleep. (Just kidding. Kind of. You really have no idea how annoyed my exes have been with me. I realize this is bad PR for myself, but it’s true. Ask any one of them. I get a real kick out of my jackassery. They don’t seem too turned on by it, after a while. I just pray that 1 day I find a man who is willing to take a joke even further than I am. I would marry him on the spot.) It also might have also been an attempt by an angry victim of my crank-calls, to “get me back”. I have some bad phone karma headed my way & I knew it was just a matter of time before it bit me in the ass.
This post may not be deep, or funny, or important. I just find it fascinating that a haunting, anomalous call could have come from numerous dudes I can think of. What does this say about the men I chose to like? Are they all mad at me? (I doubt they even remember my name...) Maybe it was a mistake call- a butt and/or purse-dial, not even meant for me. I played the message for BAIT, who also couldn’t figure it out. It’s really not a big deal. I just wonder who loves me & hates me at the same time. Most people I know, I should think.
Most people I know.

I Really Don't Know Life At All.

2010-11-28T10:53:00.001-08:00

Joni Mitchell is one of my favorite singers/songwriters. One of her songs that has impinged upon my emotions for years, is Both Sides Now. In it she chants, “Bows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air. And feather canyons everywhere, I've looked at clouds that way. But now they only block the sun, they rain and snow on everyone. So many things I would have done but clouds got in my way.”
More & more lately, I realize how truly practicable it is to look at life in two completely separate ways. Having always struggled with depression & anxiety, it’s a constant battle to stay positive. I’ve seen the fruits of my forward-looking labor. There are days when I wake up, feeling I can do, & be anything I set my mind to, & days where I wonder if I have enough pills in my medicine cabinet for an eternal dirt nap. I know throughout this Manbbatical, I’m supposed to learn to really love myself. Sometimes I do really believe that I’m awesome- a catch, even- & I know it’s all going to work out just fine. Other times it’s a mystery to me how I’ve got so many amazing friends whose love & support are unyielding. I offer a glimpse into my 2-sided mind:
POSITIVE ME:
1. I have a lot of love to give.
2. I do what I love for my work.
3. I have an active social life, & would do anything for my friends.
4. I have a “joie de vivre”.
5. I’m a good daughter, aunt, & sister.
6. I appreciate art, music, comedy, etc.
7. I have the fortune of choice in almost everything I do (voting, appearance, career, sexuality, lifestyle…).
8. I have everything I need to live comfortably.
9. I am attractive.
10. I’m funny, & talented. I’ve had fantastic opportunities & worked with some of my idols.

NEGATIVE ME:
1. I’m needy & paranoid.
2. I’m not good at anything else, so I write a sexy blog, tell dick jokes, & act out words I’ve read from a page. I’m average at all of these things, at best.
3. I love to party above all else. I’m also a name-dropper. I don’t deserve the friends I have- I feel like I’ve pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes, & it’s just a matter of time until they realize it.
4. I eat too much, spend too much money, drink too much, smoke too much pot & cigarettes, do whatever I want, whenever I want, regardless of how it might affect other people.
5. I still borrow money from my parents. I didn’t even get my mom a CARD, when she got married.
6. I sometimes download music illegally, get in to concerts or shows on guest-lists, instead of just paying the small amount of money to the artists who so deserve it.
7. I take for granted all of the choices I have. I didn’t even vote in this last election. I don’t even volunteer, anymore. I haven’t paid my taxes in a few years. I’m a parasite.
8. I have no assets. I live hand to mouth. The only way I get nice clothes, jewelry, or trips is through the generosity of my friends, lovers, or family.
9. I do nothing to improve my appearance but slap on make-up & hair-extensions. I barely go to the gym, & certainly not on a regular basis. I’d prefer to starve myself to lose weight than actually live a healthy lifestyle. I’m vain & often use my looks or body to manipulate people to give me what I want.
10. I’ve used my charm to trick people into liking me, or thinking that I’m smart, or I’ve got talent. Once I get hired, I get lazy. I also get hired because I have a lot of friends in show-business, & often it’s not what you know, it’s who you know.

How I look at my life, really makes all of the difference. Whatever I believe about myself is the truth. How can I expect to grow & learn if I can’t stand me & crucify myself over every mistake? How can I expect someone else to love me, if I can’t understand why they would? How can I consider their opinion of me if I don't agree with it? How can I even BEGIN to love someone else if I don’t have enough of a well of respect & compassion for my own self?
I’m just trying to be good. I’m really, really trying with this project, & to be the best version of myself that I can be. I want to fall asleep at night, thinking I genuinely did the best that I could.
Joni’s right: “Something's lost but something's gained in living every day…”

Learning Disability

2010-11-26T12:36:00.000-08:00

Confucius once said, “He who learns but does not think, is lost! He who thinks but does not learn is in great danger.”
I think I am in great danger. I feel as though every lesson I was trying desperately to grasp throughout the first 6 months of the Manbbatical have taken a serious beating. They now lay motionless, quiet, & bloody- unwilling to get up again & fight the good fight.
The reason I began the dating-intermission was because I kept falling in love with the wrong men: Men who were consumed by their careers, philanderers, unwilling to committers, party-animals, & general heartbreakers. That said, (most of them) were extremely talented, charming, witty, & sexy dudes. I wanted to get to the bottom of my poor decision making skills in regards to lovers or boyfriends. I wanted to get to know myself better, learn to really accept & love who I am- what I have to offer. Eventually I thought I might be able to choose a stable partner who can give me what I want (& vice versa). I was getting there. I knew pursuing MAN-X would lead to emotional pandemonium. Sleeping with MAGIC TRICK wouldn’t have added anything to my life but maybe an orgasm, or 2. Same goes for WEINER, or SPICY SAUSAGE. I dodged a few bullets. I was feeling good about myself. Strong, unhampered. I fantasized that I might actually get to share my life with someone, start my own family, & have a real relationship that "works". No more lusting after dudes in the public eye (it gets complicated very easily), no more equating men's talent to the size of their heart, no more comics, (it’s just too fucking messy, & it NEVER ends well…). I was to be through with men who are wasting my time, sitting on the fence of responsibilities & vows… through with game playing, mind reading & fighting. Done with fucking drunkenly & vacantly. If I’m going to be with someone- I want to BE with them. I realize it takes time to get to know someone, & you have to be patient & perceptive before making life choices, together.
I’m living in fear that I’ll never fall in love with the “right” man. HIM isn’t an ideal choice, for me. For an array of (private) reasons, he is going through some emotionally challenging times, & isn’t looking to be in a relationship. He’s also been married a couple of times, & has a few children. Why would he want to get into a trifecta of familial civics? Not to mention the fact that he lives across the continent, is a celebrity, & is a comedian. (I realize I’m not supposed to be focusing on a relationship or a man during the Manbbatical, but I can’t help it- I have pretty deep-rooted feelings for HIM, now. It’s too late.) I also feel like he could get any woman he wanted, so I can’t help but wonder why it is, exactly, that he would want to spend so much time with me. (I know it’s my low self-esteem talking, but it speaks loudly, & sometimes I can’t drown out its disparaging voice…) There are so many reasons why this could end badly, for me. I KNOW I’m being negative- suffocating it (a potential relationship) before it’s even had a chance to take its first breath. I’m just so scared to live through another heartbreak. He’s so awesome in so many ways- there are so many reasons to adore HIM. Maybe I just feel like he’s too good to be true, & I’ve found HIM at the exact wrong time? What if I can never get it together? We’ve spoken about it, & we decided that the fact that we have 6 whole months (left of the Manbbatical) to figure out what this actually is (between us), & get to know each other better is a real blessing. Acid eats away at my guts & heart when I think there’s a good possibility that HIM & I could turn out to be nothing, & I will have learned nothing, this year. The verifiable truth that I’m so consumed with HIM & our “non-relationship” during this time that’s meant to be dedicated to myself alone, shows my resistance to unearth my potential and/or successes. He has said to me that I may be attracted to HIM for the wrong reasons. Whatever my reasons are, they seem more powerful than my common sense. I need to pump the brakes. I need to see HIM for who he really is with me. I need to see MYSELF more conspicuously. I have the time & the space to do so.
As the Jedi Master Yoda wisely pronounced, "Do, or do not. There is no 'try'."
It's difficult for me to write this, knowing that he might read it. If I'm going to be honest in my posts, I can't play my cards close to my chest with HIM. It might be a turn-off for HIM. I have to write what I have to write. I hope he understands.