The Youtube Bathroom

Dear Blob,
Youtube is not only a venue for independent narcissist performers, such as myself, but it is also the World's Biggest Bathroom. The Youtube comment section is just like the restroom walls, filled with messages like, Fuck U and 4 a Good BJ Call Candi. Unfortunately, I've had no directions towards good blow jobs, but my videos and myself, are getting a healthy dose of the F-word. Youtube seems to be the stomping grounds for cowards and angry, fearful Dark Siders. A Dark Sider is a "person" who is filled with hate. I quotation mark "person", because these are the creatures that are contributing to the unevolution of humans; probably overweight, underloved and poorly educated. I don't mind the hate, in fact, it feeds the fire to spread unicorn pony hearts all the more.
Love The Ukulady
ps: I saw Persepolis last night, the graphic novel, made into a French animated feature film. It is beautiful and sad and highly recommended. A black & white cartoon riveted me for over 90 minutes. I wish the Dark Siders would see Persepolis and the fruitlessness of hate and fear.

Guitar Hero Fever!

Dear Blob,
The Ukulady has totally caught Guitar Hero Fever! Lately, whenever I call my friends in the Bay Area, they are unavailable to chat, distractedly saying, "Can't talk now - in the middle of Guitar Hero-" and then they hang up. Over the holidays I spent several days at the hippie Berkeley commune where many of my friends reside; an old-school hippie commune where Guitar Hero Fever has captured everyone with the Heat of Obsession! The Guitar Hero virus nipped at my skeptical-of-video-game-heels and I broke down, adjusted the toy guitar strap and totally rocked out to hot '80's hair metal.
Love The Ukulady
ps: Jamie Lyn Spears Fever has totally passed.
pps: More weighty things to think about, such as the endless cycle of religious fervor, zealotry and tragedy in the Middle East. I'm bummed about Benezir Bhutto.

Jame Lyn Fever!

Dear Blob,
Just as I began to feel remorse for the Brittney Spears mockery I so enjoy and pity her, rather than scorn her feverish decline into drugs, Child Protective Services Most-Visited-Celebrity status and worrisome maddness, her 16 year old sister, Jamie Lyn, has taken up the banner of stupidity and poor role-modelhood! The day Jamie Lyn broke her teen pregnancy news, I received several phone calls and emails, alerting me and now I have total Jamie Lyn Fever! I even went to her official website! It's not as good as Britney's. I'm most pleased that Mother Spears's Christian Mothering book has apparently, been put on hold. Whatever book publisher thought Britney Spear's mother would have good parenting advice, must have been raised by murderers. I am disappointed The Stupid seem to conceive so easily and while I do not know for certain if Jamie Lyn is below-average in brain activity, her actions lead me to believe she is probably more comfortable reading US Weekly than Harper's. If I was Jamie Lyn or Britney's manager, I would have had those girls on implanted birth control by ten, or whatever age Mother Spears was dressing her children in child-whore outfits and pimping them to the cameras. Parents, don't whore your children out (see www.TheUkuLady.com songpage "Poor Britney".
Love The Ukulady
ps: In other news The Ukulady has been gifted with a subscription to US Weekly and Star Magazine, to round out her Harpers and New Yorker reading....
pps: Friends, WASA crackers are really delicious.
ppps: If only Jamie Lyn and her out-of-control boyfriend had just eaten WASA crackers instead of had sex...

Thank You For Being a Golden Girlfriend!

Blaming Satan

Dear Blob,
I am disappointed, repulsed and appalled by the New Life Church Christians in Colorado, who's community was recently rampaged by an 18 year old gunman church member. This morning's LA Times dedicated 3/4 page article to the New Life Church survivors, who, in questioning why an 18 year boy would take a gun to his community, blamed, Satan. To the evangelists of New Life Church, their tragedy is not an opportunity to engage in critical discussion, but to be lazy and anti-intellectual. By choosing to blame Satan, the church members take no responsibility for who their community created, a troubled angry teenager. Blaming Satan removes the opportunity for real change in our troubled, scary world. Teenagers are angry and disillusioned and capitalism is anti-community, anti-sharing; so, lonely people take solace in churches, which offer answers to the unanswerable. However, when a community's only answer to this kind of situation is Satan, the chance to create change, is lost. Change can only come from critical thinking and discussion, both of which are learned skills. I'm sad these integral skills to humanity's evolution are not being taught in America's public schools. No wonder ET's are totally uninterested in visiting planet earth. Collectively, we're so stupid.
Love The UkuLady
ps: In other news, my amazing myspace friend, Sarahcakes, 17 yrs, of NY, sketched an awesome drawing of The UkuLady, which is her featured picture. My narcissism meter shot off the charts when I saw it - smoochies & thanksies!
pps: To my Christian myspace friendsies - please work on changing the blinder-mentality of the evangelists - thanksies!
ppps: To The Downfall of Evil! (which is not Satan, but blinder-mentality, anti-intellectualism, anti-questioning - fear)

Dare to Suck & Fuck Fear

Dear Blob,
The UkuLady has been receiving an overwhelming number of emails lately, thanks to my incredible gay-heeb-manager's marketing diligence. The emails are daily affirmations and while I don't have time to answer all of them, one came in that I am compelled to share with you, Blob, and my readers.
FROM SARAHCAKES, My MYSPACE FRIEND:
I have a question. You are awesome to the max. But How do you just not care what people say or think? I always am careful with what I say to people. I'm a big ol' chicken. I hate giving speeches and so on. I wish I could be like you and just not give a damn.
Sarah
The opportunity has come for The Ukulady to change the world. I told Sarah I have 2 mottoes:
1. Fuck Fear
2. Dare To Suck
If humans could eliminate Fear from their psyches, this world will change for the better. Fear drives many people and I believe it is the root of all evil. Daring to suck is related to self-love and self acceptance. If everyone really loved themselves and stopped judging themselves, again, planet earth could transform. We will still have hurt and grief and pain, because loss is inevitable. However miscommunication, anger, doubt, greed and all the other negative creatures of the shadowbox, will weaken. I heart Love. What a fucking hippie thing to say.
Love The Ukulady
ps: simultaneous to this email, my amazing sister (www.judemooney.com) told me I should be a motivational speaker.
pps: I'm done hating Britney, Lindsey and Jenna. I love them. But not in a lesbian way, or in an admiration way. More in a pity way and they doing the best they can possibly do. Because like Anne Frank, I believe all people are good at heart.

Big Love & Lateens!

Dear Blob,
I rarely watch tv, but I really love the television show Big Love and subsequently, I'm pleased and relieved, repleaved, that I'm not from a polygamist family. The good news about polygamists, is, according to Big Love, they are always throwing parties. I like parties. That sentence makes me sound like one of the unicorns from Planet Unicorn, the best thing on Youtube. In other news, while jogging around Echo Park lake this Sunday, I was once again, struck by the prevalence of Latino teen parents. I call them Lateens and I want to shower them with birth control.
Love The UkuLady
ps: While Bill Paxton of Big Love does a fantastic job, to me, he will always be Chet-transformed-into-the blubbery-creature/monster from Weird Science.
pps: Latrina is a really awful name. Latrina the Lateen....she will usurp the talentless Tila Tequila....

My First Hate Email!

Dear Blob!
I've arrived! I got my first Hate Email today! And of course it is from a hypocritical Christian, who has apparently forgotten about the Love our good friend Jesus, preached. Here's what Worship Leader, Tracy Vines, has to say about me:

FROM THE UKULADY'S MYSPACE INBOX:
I went to your page to see what you are all about and was not pleasantly surprised. I see that we have absolutely nothing in common and do not even know why you would send me a friends request. Do you not look at profiles before you send them? If you don't, you might want to consider that in the future. I am a worship leader and find your content disturbing, in bad taste, and not the least bit humorous. So, I am sending this to ask "Why?" would you even want me on your friends list? Are you in a contest to see who can collect the most friends?
Tracy Vines
p.s. No need to comment back, I won't read it anyway.

THANK YOU TRACY! Glad I made you so upset that you took time out of your busy schedule to reinforce the hypocrisy of Christians. If she had a sense of humor, she would hear that The UkuLady's message is all about Peace and Love. After all, I am a hippie!
Love The UkuLady
PS: I love how she says she was not pleasantly surprised.
PPS: I'm so excited to quote Tracy Vines on my publicity! Always send out Love to the Haters.

Babies Eating Candy

Dear Blob,
I've decided that witnessing mothers give their babies candy and soda, is one of the top-most depressing things to see. Today at Walgreens, I watched a teen mother give her baby a lollypop. It feels like watching the future of humanity be peed upon.
Love The UkuLady
ps: I watched Jenna Bush on Ellen and almost forgave her for not calling me or coming to any of my shows.

Own The Roll As You Would A Pet

Dear Blob,
Due to a busy travel schedule, I've been unable to maintain my usual Anusara yoga regime; around thrice weekly, give or take. I heart yoga (see www.TheUkuLady.com songpage song "I Heart Yoga") and now that I'm well into my "25 Again!" years, find yoga is essential to my general well-being. I've always been a "curvy" girl, described once by theater critics as "zaftig", and in the past year, thanks to yoga, was thrilled to discover I have hipbones and ab muscles! These were new bodyparts to me, having only heard about them in health class and seen them on TV and on my slim friends. How quickly these "ab"muscles disappear.... I realized today, in yoga, that my core (fancy LA word for ab muscles) has once again, become A Pet. There are ab muscles under My Pet, but The Roll has, thanks to Thanksgiving (not with Hugo Chavez's grandson) and last week's Vegas Buffet (Vegas blog coming very soon...) re-expanded, and can comfortably be described as A Pet. My Best-Gay-Friend-in-Chicago says "Own The Roll!". And I do. Like a pet.
Love The UkuLady
ps: My-Best-Straight-Guy-Friend-in-LA heard a strict mother firmly tell her child, "We're not leaving until you finish your soda! Finish your soda!" A Roll Pet in the making...

I Love Your Mullet!

Hippies Don't Wed!

Hot Stalin, Texing & Bears!

Dear Blob,
This morning browsing the latest Harpers, I lingered on a photo of a totally hot guy from the olden days, who was hotly gracing the cover of a book being advertised. Upon further inspection, I realized the totally hot guy was Stalin; not only hot, but advertised as the "Personification of evil". Hot Stalin.
In other news, The UkuLady had a fundraiser/show for Hillary last night, which was attended by several Hillary campaign workers. These gals were delightfully pleasant, but apparently unaware of theater etiquette, text messaging and sitting in the front row at the same time.
And finally, The Ukulady is off to Las Vegas this morning to play at the Venetian Hotel. I have never been to Las Vegas and am pleased my first foray to the City of Sin, is for a gig at an 800 seat house. And I will be driven by my new gay man, Mitch, purveyor of www.BearlyBuddies.com and we will commence to co-writing Bearly! A Musical; so get psyched, Bears!
Love The UkuLady
ps: Stalin is hotter than Hillary, but I'm voting for her anyway.
pps: For my straight readers: Bears are a subculture of gay men who have beards and drink beer.
ppps: You don't have to be fat to be a Bear.
pppps: Hot Stalin would have been a Cub, because he had a three-day shadow and probably enjoyed beer, but he was young and young Bears are Cubs.

Hugo Chavez's Grandson for Thanksgiving!

Dear Blob,
The day before Thanksgiving, my brother reported that his new best friend, the great-grandson of the president of Venezuela, would be joining the Lerner clan, for dinner. The word "great" didn't really register with me and so thrilled, I assumed I would be dining with Hugo Chavez's great grandson! Hugo Chavez is such a rabble rouser, and while he is not the special-sweater-wearing South American politician (Bolivia?), he is certainly infamous. Romolo wore a jaunty scarf, appeared bemused at the Lerner Thanksgiving and is not Hugo Chavez's grandson, great or not. Some other long-dead Venezuelan president who is Not on the front page of the newspapers, holds the title of Romolo's great-grandfather. I was a little disappointed, but Hugo Chavez is pretty dictorial, anyway.
Some Highlights from the Lerner Thanksgiving:
1. Trader Jews - the renamed store
2. The Tidbits, a band
3. The Nitwit Tidbits, a better band
4. The Culturally Jewish/Brooklyn Taxi-Driver Butler - you have to know my father to find this funny. This came up because Romolo's step-father is a butler in San Francisco. The thought of my culturally Jewish dad being employed as a butler, is horrifyingly hilarious. It's a union, because then he is un-fireable.
In other news, The UkuLady is finally going to Vegas. I hope to find the thrift stores with loads of glitter bikinis and '70's mumus....
Love The UkuLady

Lindsey Lohan & Me!

Dear Blob!
Last Thursday me and Best Straight Male Friend in LA (BSMFinLA) forced ourselves to go to our mutual commercial agent's wife's baby shower, being hosted at a sleek skinny-person bar on the Sunset Strip. The Sunset Strip, while glamourous in name, is completely pretentious, vapid, and full of people who are probably robots. However, we like our agent, and after a quick stop at Border's books (alas there are no unchain bookshops in LA), where I purchased the classic "Monster at the End Of This Book", starring Grover, we headed to the Sunset Strip. Aside from being a neighborhood of brainless pretty people, it is also the neighborhood of No-Parking-Unless-You-Want-To-Valet-For-$12-Dollars. So we parked in a nearby cinemall structure. BSMF is one of most hilarious people I know, so I was in a particularly happy mood, as we took the elevator to and fro the bar to car. Upon the elevator doors opening, who should exit, but Lindsey Lohan, in the flesh! I almost died. As I grew up amongst hippie celebrities, I don't get too excited seeing celebrities, but seeing Lindsey Lohan at a distance of about five feet, was utterly thrilling. She is mouth-droppingly beautiful. Extremely skinny, but her features are unbelievabley exquisite. And she looked pretty disheveled, for her. She seemed agitated, being in public, and quickly headed, with her handler, to the cinema. It took my breath away. Later, driving home, I remembered the unkind things I sang about her (see www.TheUkuLady.com "Poor Lindsey") and I felt a moment of remorse. That feeling is gone, replaced by pity. Parents, please don't whore your children out!
Love The UkuLady
ps: I think I'm allergic to cashews.

Child of the Eighties!

Mormons Love Pepsi & Panties

Dear Blob,
I'm distressed that the Cult of Mormanism has reached the Crux of all Cults's ultimate desire; lacing up it's We're-A-Real-Religion-Sneakers! and sprinting to the tipping point of acceptability. Mormonism is particularly fraught with hypocrisy and repulsisism, growing it's base from the usual cult-tenants of pedophilia, group sex and female oppression, and preying on the poor, uneducated and oppressed....the darkies of the the globe. Mormons love sending their fresh-faced missionary boys to third-world countries, where they bring hope, special underwear & Pepsi to the indigenous people. Mormons love their Pepsi....
My UkuLady diatribe comes from this morning's LA Times, which featured a full page article, complete with color photo, of the Claremont Graduate University's new full time Mormon Studies professor. Repulsive.
The UkuLady recently read Under The Banner of Heaven, Jon Krauker's non-fictional account of pioneer Mormon's slaughter of pioneer wagon trains, which they blamed on the Injun's. The book also details the Mormon's ridiculous history and ultimately, The UkuLady is saddened by the many people so fearful of death and the Unknown, that they whole-heartedly believe the rantings of some guy (Joseph Smith), who either 1. took some mushrooms, or 2. was mentally ill.
Mormanism, like most cults, started because a crazy person wanted to have a lot of sex with a lot of different women and children.
Again, no wonder ET's aren't interested in planet Earth. Humans are so unevolved, living in fear and reveling in utter Sheephood.
Distressedly yours, The UkuLady
ps: The LA Times is the most conservative Christian newspaper; yesterday's front-page California Wildfire articles were ALL about the Christian fire victims who came out to Pray. Giant color pictures of Christians in prayer circles. Where are the color pictures of the Pagan, Agnostic & Atheist fire victims?
pps: The UkuLady is not an Atheist, although my grandfather, a NYC intellectual Art-Worshipper, was.
ppps: I am a believer in Energy.
ppps: Everyone should read the articles and writings of Death & Dying by Elizabeth K. Ross. Fuck Fear.
pppps: Although the LA Times is totally conservative, I can't break my morning paper habit and the NY Times is too expensive.

Postcard from Angelino Heights!

Joggin While Sick

Dear Blob,
I am a terrible sick person. I've had a naggy coldy/flu for over a week, and today recognized my defeatist pattern of resting a little bit, feeling better, so partaking in social-butterfly activities, and then awaking sick again. I am a compulsive dinner-party hostess and party-guest. Instead of Gamblers Anon, I need to go to Hostess Anon. Hello, My name is The UkuLady and I love having parties, even when I'm sick. I cancelled tonight's dinner party after jogging this morning. I thought a jog would be more restful than a 2 hour yoga class. After 2 Echo Park laps and the 92 stairwalk, I was totally exhausted, but not in an excercisey-way, but in a I'm-sick fashion. I am engaging in only one other rigorous activity today, moving furniture. I've got to take advantage of my truck-friends while they're available.
Love The UkuLady
ps: While jogging sick, I mistook two resting ducks for sacks of garbage. I was pleased the Seeming Eyesore was Wildlife in Action.
pps: Now I'll rest.

Manitards & Unicorn Cats

Dear Blob!
Here are some of The UkuLady's latest ideas and thoughts:
1. Candy Nachos - these would be very popular with children! Candy Nachos would be similar to Domino's Pizza Oreos Pizza, which got a terrible review in the LA Times. Candy Nachos would be banana chips with fudgey nacho sauce and studded with gummy bears, caramel nibblets and candy corn.
2. Portable Whistling Device - Whatever it is, it sounds awesome and I want one.
3. Manitard - unitards for men. Also Wussitards, for wusses and Shellacitards, which are shellac-ed unitards.
4. Unicorn Cats. Why are these not a common children's fantasy animal? I sense a future Ukulady children's song in the distance.... (I have a children's UkuLady show at Palm Spring's Pride and am having difficulty not writing about socio-political issues.)
5. Prep Shrimp - this is not a cooking instruction, but a clique of preppy shrimp at a shrimp high school. Prawns in collar alligator shirts, reminiscent of James Spader in Pretty in Pink.
6. Le Cool. A brand. Or a beverage.
7. Sex Quilt, The Band.
8. Turtleneck, The Movie.
9. Teen Kabobs, A Snack.
10. Ant Magic! A Game.
11. Cumin Human, a great rhyme. Or a seasoned dish for cannibals.
And finally, some advice from The UkuLady: You've got to Invite The Magic.
Love The UkuLady
ps: Britney is once again, redoing her website. Alas, the Get Well Britney Mailbox has been dismantled and encouraging global messages like, "Heal Britney!" Shep, Australia, are sadly, gone.
pps: You've got to be really fucked up to have custody of your children be given over to Kenvin Federline.

The Jeffersons Theme Song

Dear Blob!
Apologies for my lengthy Ukublog absence. I moved. An excuse, however, OMG, who remembers how exhausting and difficult moving is? Certainly not Paris Hilton, flitting from one mansion to another. I moved from a seemingly fabulous craftsman to a real live mansion. The theme from The Jeffersons has been playing on my head for weeks. My former home was on Cat Shit lane or Carcass Court, as my House Elf calls it; a street littered with Hot Cheetos bags, cat feces and a flat possom corpse propped up in a discarded baby seat, which lingered for weeks. No matter how many times the religious zealots cleaned up my old street, the next day another load of garbage was dumped in the same spot. Someone once died in front of my house, stabbed at the Burrito King a block away.
My new house is a historic mansion included in the Hiistoric Homes of Echo Park tour and Gloria Swanson once lived here. I giggle gleefully, schemeingly, disbelievingly, every time I pull into the driveway. It's the "house" people stop in front of and ogle. The Couches of Echo Park are not in this area of Echo Park. This is Angelino Heights and it is swollen with Neighborhood Pride, which I have adopted; musing whether I have time to attend the free neighborhood Baroque Concert produced and performed by neighbors and still watch the sunset from my backyard, 180 degree views of Los Angeles, the Hollywood sign, Griffith Park Observatory....Moooohahahahaha! To The Downfall of Evil!
Bursting with Pride & Vengenance, The Ukulady
PS: Meanwhile, I still have Echo Park down the hill to jog around. The lake has an area that consistently smells of sewage and often bums, junkies and families enjoy reclining, basking in the sun, in Sewage Corner. I wonder if they have lost their sense of smell.

Blob O' the Business Trabler...

Dear Blob!
Greetings from the Hotel Sofitel, where I am once again, a business traveler and thankfully, employed! This, the third week after Brittney Spears’s unfortunate un-comeback on the VMA awards, I am headed into my fifth year of being the voice of Electronic Art’s Teenage girl Sim on The Sims 2 videogames. Today’s first day back on the EA campus was a mini-reunion, catching up with who’s had a baby, who’s band has finally and regrettably, stopped playing together and how long this ridiculously awesome job is going to last. The bad news is EA is considering not hiring any of the Sims 2 talent back for Sims 3. The good news is maybe we have a year left being Sims. Alas, nothing is constant but change. In fact, the Hotel Sofitel changed their complimentary moisturizer and chocolates, The new free accessories are sadly inferior to the moisturizer of yesteryear. They also ceased free wireless internet, which irks me like BrittneySpear’s is probably irked by the endless pestering of Child Protective Services. If I were paying for the Sofitel, I would not spend my hard-earned EA cash on their overpriced fees, but would find a quaint Peninsula B&B with free internet and a spa bathtub. I often wonder what the khaki-panted, polo-shirted business travelers, who frequent the Sofitel bar, think of me; ukulele in hand, pink thrift-cheer skirt, striped knee-socks, strumming about cametoe, reclining poolside at sunset….(see www.TheUkuLady .com songlist song “Camel & Moose”, written by the Sofitel pool last spring). Those are the moments I know I am blessed and all is well, no matter what changes the universe will bring. Voice over accounts come and go, as my mentor, Susan, former voice of Albertson’s Supermarkets, says. If only Brittney would share some of the 784,000 a month she earns, with The UkuLady….. For all the Sims fans out there, the latest Sims expansion packs will include exciting activities, such as tree-climbing, fruit-eating and simian-mimicry….. Squibbly Va Porklaj!
Love The UkuLady

Celebrity A-List Sightings!

Dear Blob!
My new Best Gay Friend (NBGF), who was in Chorus Line on Broadway, Xanadu the movie, a Solid Gold Dancer and made out with John Travolta in a dressing room, took me to opening night of Camelot at Royce Hall at UCLA. This blog is a report of the total A-list celebrity sightings yeilded by an evening of very traditional and awfully boring musical theater.
First we saw Mel Brooks crossing the street on the Sunset strip and we were pleasantly surprised with how spry and fit he appeared. Then at Royce Hall, which was awash with the hoi polloi of LA, we saw Mrs. Garrett from Facts of Life, Charlotte Rae and the incomparable Shirley Jones! I've been in the same audition waiting room with Mrs. Garrett, so while I adore her and feel she was my House Mother at Fantasy Boarding School, she did not make me quiver the way Shirley Jones did. I used to watch Oklahoma! and The Music Man at least monthly, as we had them on VHS. Shirley Jones looked awesome! Beautiful, just like she did on the Partridge Family. Charlotte Rae is tiny, shorter than me and she also looks fab.
Meanwhile, Camelot was awful and I can't imagine why anyone would revive such a bad show. Lou Diamond Phillips played King Arthur and he did not Stand and Deliver this time. He can't sing and was totally overshadowed by Guenevere and Lancelot. I learned from Camelot, that sex fucks everything up.
Love The UkuLady
ps: Speaking of VHS, my NBGF has to transfer footage from Betamax.
pps: We ate mini-cheesecakes at the afterparty and saw several bad facelifts.
ppps: I realize that the celebrity A-list sightings are specific to a fag hag or a theater nerd. I am both.

Brittney's Comeback &Mary Kate in my dreams...

Dear Blob,
I dreamt a boy I have a crush on dissed me for Mary Kate Olsen. I was pissed in the dream, but pleased when I awoke, that my nightmares are no longer about the house I live in (see www.TheUkuLady.com Song O'The Week "The Neighbor Song").
In other news, The Brittney Spears "comeback" was amazingly bad. She was such a hot child, a pedophilia posterchild, but as an adult, she is not only Not Hot, but extremely unremarkable in every way. Brittney's backup dancers consistently outshine her remedial "Dance for Beginners" moves - a couple tummy swirls thrown in between step, step, touch. In addition to her pathetic dancing, nasal, whiny, barely sexy and truly awful new single, Brittney didn't look like she was having any fun. She's fantastic tabloid fodder and for that I applaud her.
UkuLady Letter to Brittney:
Dear Brittney, please stick to what you're good at: getting knocked up, drunk and investigated by Child Protective Services! I love it when you flash your cooter, drive with your babies on your panty-free lap and smash cars with umbrellas! Love The UkuLady

Syphilis the Greek God

Dear Blob,
I was listening to my radio boyfriend, Nick Harcourt, on LA's best radio show, Morning's Become Eclectic, and I heard him do an ad urging me to visit www.Syphilis.com; and then I realized he was saying www.SitForLess.com. The marketing people for that company either really fucked up or were really smartie pantsies.
Snerve The UkuLady
PS: Syphilis is so totally a Greek god.

Jenna's Engagement!!!

Dear Blob!
Exciting news! My myspace friend, Jenna Bush, is engaged to be married! While this news was reported in the LA Times and other publications, she hasn't sent out an announcement to her myspace friends yet. She's probably been too busy with the challenges of her job! Jenna and her mom, Laura Bush, are co-writing a children's book! They are such role models for mothers and daughters everywhere! I really admire their dedication to American children's literacy! Hopefully they will extend that dedication to the global youth village and write something uplifting and charmingly witty, for the kids of Iraq.
Meanwhile, I'm crossing my UkuLady fingers that You Know Who will be asked to be in the wedding party, or maybe write a special love song for Jenna's special day.... I'll write her a special What-To-Expect-When-You-Lose-Your-Virginity song, as we all know Jenna is an upstanding young Right-Wing Christian and if there's one thing that's important to the Evangelicals, it's an unmarred vagina marching down the aisle. Hopefully her fiance isn't like all the Right-Wing Christian Senators who've recently been caught molesting boys and soliciting gay sex in men's restrooms. As Jenna's myspace friend, I am protective over her and wouldn't want her to catch an STD on her special virginity-losing-wedding night!
Love The UkuLady
PS: I saw a yarn store in Chatsworth today called Hooker's Haven. Chatsworth, is apparently the porn capital of the world.
PPS: Pumice & Hummus - twinsies!

Ode To Tammy Faye!

Hookers & High-Fructose!

Dear Blob!
It was an exciting weekend in The Ukulady’s UkulUniverse! Not only was it a Magical Slumber Party weekend at Chez Ukulady, with 3 delightful ally/pals, pallies, filling the house with Unicorn Hearts, but I was also mistaken for a Woman of The Night!
Clad in a vintage cotton-candy pink sateen gown, knee-high pink Fluevogs and blue tights, I, my Gexan (Gay Texan) and my Pirate Cheerleader High Priestess, (PCHP ((Not a drug or highway)) sheathed in orange muppet-fur, an orange baby-doll shift and knee-high army boots, were strolling down Western Ave, a seedy fast-food-shack strewn Los Angeles boulevard. It was midnight and we were headed from a Drunken Spelling Bee/Beer Chug to the car, when a man and his son, who appeared to be between 5 – 7 yrs old, approached. As they passed my trio, the boy accusingly squealed, “Hookers!”
Then, seat-buckled in the car, we drove past a taco truck and saw the man and boy, sodas in hand, strolling back from whence they came. While it was exciting to be mistaken for a street whore, I felt concern and sadness for the young city child, who, at midnight, was not tucked into bed, but walked the street-whore streets, drinking a high-fructose addiction-forming beverage, and at such a tender age, possessed hooker-awareness.
My Gexan has a diet Coke habit and needed a midnight thirst-quencher, so we stopped at the Echo Park 711, where we saw a teen mother feeding her baby Slurpee. Again, regret for a soda-drinking youngster surfaced, and I remembered why I think ET’s are totally uninterested in planet Earth. How pathetically unevolved we are.
In other news, if I owned a bakery it would be called Puffy Puffy Yum Yum and I would rename every baked good the Butter Cream Fat Pouch.
Love The UkuLady

Canadian Kabobs & Clams...

Dear Blog,
Canadians in Quabec eat Quabobs! Not to be mistakes for Quohogs, a shellfish of the clam family, the clamily, native to New England.
Love The UkuLady
PS: I've been theoretically saving my own Springfield, but with less witticism and hilarity than America's Number 1 Family, hence the minimal blOgservations.
PPS: Or blObservations might be more accurate...

Polish vs. polish

Dear Blog,
Polish and polish. As in the mocked and oft invaded Eastern Europeans and the act of making something shiny. It took me 33 years, which is 25 LA years, to recognize they are the same word. Also, Richard Simmons and Gene Simmons. I wish they were brothers. The Ukulady's been going through some heavy drama, hence, the minimal blog entry. In fact, I recently read Primo Levi's book, Survival in Auschwitz, to make me feel better about my life. I felt better.
Love The UkuLady
PS: Blog, I just called you a Blob, by mistake. Love it. I may start calling you Dear Blob.

UkuLady Hearts corndogs!

Celebraginas and more!

Dear Blog,
An amusing and awful name for a child would be Trilogy, as in, "OMG, Trilogy and Chad were totally making out behind the bleachers!"
Or, "OMG, Trilogy and Epilogue totally broke up after prom!"
Love The Ukulady
PS: US Magazine makes it seem like celebrities vaginas, celebraginas, are totally sterile, magical and fresh. The US Magazine I was forced by curiosity, to read today, mentioned Nicole Richie was "spotting". I am horrified to picture Nicole Richie dashing to the bathroom and discovering blood in her panties. And US Magazine, available at the supermarket checkout, where kids can readily browse through pictures of scantily-clad boob-jobbed starlets, painted this disturbing picture for me. Why is Nicole Richie's blood-stained thong news?
PPS: I love it and I hope she spots more.
PPPS: Trilogy would totally help Nicole Richie wash her dirty panties and then they'd totally make-out for the paparazzi.

UkuLady's Friends RULE!!!

Dear Blog!
I had an exciting morning watching The View! Never in my life have I watched The View, however this morning, my dear friend Season and her hubby Jono were scheduled to appear, touting their website www.BuyChange.org, which touts socially-responsible products everyday Americans can purchase. I adjusted my rarely-used TV's antenna, tuned into ABC, when suddenly, as I was watching Barbara Walters and some E! Entertainment reporter discuss the presidential candidate Youtube debates, I was thrilled to see my friend, Mary C. Matthews, and her girlfriend Jen, appear in their youtube video, asking the candidates if they would allow Mary and Jen to wed! And then 20 minutes later Season and Jono were live on The View kicking some social justice ass!
I had 4 friends on The View on the same day! What are the chances? Go Friendsies! Go Social Responsibility, Social Justice and let's Create Change! I am proud this morning.
Love The UkuLady
PS: I'll bet Lindsey Lohan's friends aren't so proud this morning.
PPS: She was arrested again for a DUI and had cocaine in her pocket. Poor Lindsey.
PPPS: Parents, don't whore your children out.
PPPPS: www.videopancakes.blogspot.com and www.BuyChange.org

LARD #2

Dear Blog,
Again I have been misreading LAPD (Los Angeles Police Department) as LARD. There seems to be an insurgency of LAPD signs in Echo Park and maybe I'll have to get a sharpie and pen the leg onto the P, creating LARD...
Love The UkuLady
PS: It rained last night in LA! It hasn't rained here in months - it's like Dune.

UkuLady at Gay Pride!!!

Dear Blog!
Today I played my first Gay Pride Festival in San Diego, which is like a tropical San Francisco, but smaller. I recruited my future roommate, and Best LA Pal, Don Black (www.InfiniteCrux.com) to be my roadie and he wore Feminine-Hygiene-Pink sneakers we found last year at Ross Dress for Less, but I think everyone knew he was straight, regardless of his festive foot-wear. I was a hit with the gay men and hit on by the lesbians, and we ate gyros and threw our garbage in bins sponsored by the Lube Co. In general, gay men are extremely hot, physically-fit and hyper-conscious of their skin-suits, but gay women, not so much. This is not a new observation, just re-affirmed.
On our way to Pride, we stopped at Krispy Kreme Donuts in Orange County and I practiced my set list while Don retired to the powder room; three children, post-donut, wearing Krispy Kreme hats were riveted by my ukulele, pink & orange mumu, and I struck up conversation with them, and after describing an Octagon, played the The Octocado (see www.blogspot.ukulady.com), which was an instant hit. They demanded a repeat performance, but Don emerged, so I gave the Parents a card, explained we were off to Gay Pride, and away we drove.
It was a glorious day, full of theoretical magic ponies, new best friendsies and fresh sea air. Upon our return to LA, we ate taco truck tacos from a trolley at what I am calling Smog Check Tacos, as the trolley is stationed at the Smog Check place. They were asadalicious.
Love The UkuLady
PS: There are also many hot lesbians and I was hit on by one, which we taped.
PPS: I love gay men so much.
PPPS: It is awkward singing about hefty Americans in my song, LA County Fair (see www.TheUkuLady.com), when there are several hefty audience members. I always try to avoid looking at them when I sing about the Fat People eating corndogs, but Don said, I inadvertently look at them. Guilt. Sorry. I love you Hefty Americans; I just want you to feel healthy and good about yourself.

Cameltoe & Mooseknuckle!

UkuLady on Ring My Bell #2!

See more at Ring My Bell.

The Octocado!

Soy Moist Chappacinnos & such...

Dear Blog,
The disparity between Regular Life in LA and Fantasyland at Camp Winnarainbow is ridiculous. At Camp I didn't even take comedy notes because every second was chock-full of hilarity, brilliance and insight. Back in LA, as I sift through major real-life bullshit, which shall go undetailed, I have to remind myself that taco trucks are amazing, rotund echo park cholas with cameltoe bring me joy and there is value in constantly driving. Also:
1. Court-Appointed Pants: these are government-owned pants loaned to the schmuck who shows up in court wearing shorts.
2. Soy Moist Chappaccinos. I ordered one from the Coffee Bean and the barrista said, "what size?" I took pity upon her and informed her that the menu did not actually offer Soy Moist Chappaccinos. Say it. Good Times.
3. Parasites in Paraguay.
4. Opera = art form for the hefty. Couture = art form for the slim.
On an unrelated note, I realized that I would totally marry a corndog, but only if he had a fake moustache and googly eyes. This is because I love corndogs and not because of some dirty reason having to do with the corndog's suggestive shape.
Love The Ukulady
PS: Also, I'm weary of seeing people's ass cracks. Low-rise pants are way too low.
PPS: I opera sang the words CornDog, Marshmallow and Mullet yesterday in the studio.

The Korean Spa Blog - Spa Blog!

Dear Blog,
I paid to have a Korean lady wearing black lace panties and bra, slough my nude body free of several layers of skin cells. As I lay porcine-like, on the Korean Spa’s slippery vinyl sloughing-table, the scantilly-clad spa-lady gruntingly sloughing, dangerously close to my vajayjay and all I could think of was, “Please don’t touch my vagina by mistake!” and then the mantra became, “Please don’t touch my vagina by mistake again!”
Then the Sloughers, all dressed in black bra and panties, began to chat amongst themselves in Korean and I became paranoid that they were judging me and my imperfect body and simultaneously were appalled at the amount of skin they were sloughing off; and then It occurred to me that this is what it is like to be quadrapalegic or extremely rich; and then I opened my eyes and found myself face to face with the Slougher’s own vagina, barely concealed by her possibly Ross Dress for Less polyester panties. And the Slougher scrubbed my boobs in repeated concentric motions and I couldn’t believe I had Paid to have this done to me; and I thought, “Please stop rubbing my breasts in concentric circles!” And then I realized I was wasting my spa-treatment by not relaxing into The Zone. So I tried to enjoy the pampering, the tactile sensations and considered how dead-skin-free I would soon be.
Then came the Milk Bath. Seriously. My eyes were shut, but I later saw the Black-Panty-Spa-Ladies using actual gallons of milk one might purchase at Albertsons. They poured milk all over me and instructed me, through hand signals, to wash my face in the milk. I complied. Then came the oil-massage rub-down and a cucumber-mash smeared on my face. The oil-massage consisted of a lot more of my ass being vigorously rubbed by a woman who up until now, was a stranger, but she had transformed into someone with a far more intimate knowledge of my body than pretty much anyone in the past month. My breasts were again concentrically-moisturized and frighteningly, Black-Panty-Spa-Lady’s hands repeatedly came dangerously close, by mistake, to the intimate crannies of my imperfect, but freshly-sloughed, body.
At the end, I felt renewed, moisturized and extremely clean. I would probably go back.
Love The UkuLady
PS: Today Victoria Beckham is on the front page of the LA Times. The urgent news demanded of their newspaper by Angelenos never stops.

LA Times & Firemen Stories

Dear Blog,
The LA Times is so lame they featured a color photo and 2 page story about the girl who received Paris Hilton's Old phone number.
Also, my friend's dad is a retired fire chief and I asked him the most interesting thing that happened to him during his fireman tenure and this is what he told me: someone called the fire station because his was penis stuck in a bowling ball. The firemen had to air-chisel the bowling ball apart and the bowling ball parts were then displayed in a glass case in the firehouse, and my friend's dad told his son that someone had gotten his "finger" stuck in the bowling ball. My friend only found out the truth last Saturday night, at his wedding reception/BBQ. My friend's dad looks like a movie-star detective.
Love The Ukulady
PS: The LA Times also reported that someone dressed up in a Tree Costume and robbed a bank. The Tree-Costume-Bank-Robber is far more interesting than some USC sorority girl getting Paris Hilton's party/club invites.
PPS: I wish Paris Hilton was forced to dress up in a Tree Costume while in prison.

A Very UkuLady Return to LalaLand

Dear Blog,
A quickie review of my first week back in LA after the woods of Northern California:
1. Oh right, I live in Mexico. I remembered this on my way to jog around Echo Park Lake, deftly zigzagging past ridiculous amounts of garbage, which included dirty diapers, soiled prom dresses and human shit, all amongst hot-cheetos bags, and dozens of other miscellaneous plastic bags. The bags are sadly interwined in scrubby dandelions, smeared with car oil, ketchup from mini-fast-food packets and cat, dog and people feces. Good Times.
2. 4th of July in Echo Park this year did not include a palm tree on fire at the lake and the neighborhood youth seemed tamer than last year, setting off mostly legal fireworks until only about midnight, rather than 4am, like last year. There was also a taco party and pre-firework nibblies on my porch.
3. My first week back also included an impromptu Friday nvitation to join '80's party-boy-gay-icon, James St. James, on his 24hour www.RingMyBell.tv extravaganza! Ring My Bell's studio is in an empty storefront on Hollywood Blvd, with all-American fatty tourists gawking at the star-studded sidewalk, the hot dog shacks and the porn-outfit shops. RIng My Bell was a gay extravaganza, complete with me and a soft-core gay porn star, who plays a heartthrob vampire on a show I've never heard of called, Dante's Cove, answering the phones together. Dylan, the soft-core porn star wore no shirt and super low-riders, which showed his yellow and red-starred panties. He showed his ass several times and many times was very close to removing all his clothes for the internet audience. James St. James was harried, but totally sweet. My BFF, D. Black put it well, saying, "It's like you decided you were a gay icon, went to the gay community and all the gay boys are like, 'Who's she? Oh, Ok, I guess so. Yeah, she's funny and cute. Ok, she can be a ga icon!'". It was the first time I've been referred to as a celebrity, by James, as in, he's talking on the phone to a famous friend of his, in prison for murdering his drug dealer, and James says to his murderer friend, "We're having a 24 hour show and I've got all these celebrities here, like The UkuLady and Dylan the soft-core porn star vampire guy."
4. The Neosurrealists Wedding in Topanga Canyon on Saturday; they are the Neosurrealists and The UkuLady played a set and wrote The Neosurrealist Wedding Song (see www.TheUkuLady.com later this week). Best ceremony ever; it included a Cheese Break, the question, Will You Still Love Dan if He Votes Republican (yes) and bellydancers.
5. Psychic Dating pilot shoot on Sunday. The UkuLady had a reading from Psychic Dave, who seems truly intuitive...psychic? Perhaps. Another surreal day, watching 3 sets of psychics, including the Psychic Twins, give separate readings to friends. Interestingly, the readings were similar for the same people, from the different readers.
6. Amidst the oddities of these three events was learning Nicole Richie is pregnant! Oh that poor baby fetus.... Gay Best Friend thinks Nicole may have mistakenly eaten a jelly bean or grain of Minute Rice.
7. Psychic Dave did tell me to write, so Blog, I'll hustle up my blogging this week.
Love The UkuLady

Best Place on Earth briefly summed up

Dear Blog,
I feel unable to discuss Paris, Brittney, LIndsey and Jenna without first providing some highlights from The Best Place on Earth, Camp Winnarainbow. My comedy notebook is chock-full, as kids are constantly hilarious and brilliant. Camp is a place where everyone is trying to have as much fun as possible all the time and it appears to be working. It is a place where grown-men wear superhero costumes, kids change their names to Chauncy, Tractor and Hanuman and boys, girls, teens and adults bask in Extreme Creativity, respect, love and mentorship.
It is almost impossible to describe and is unlike any summer camp on earth.
HIGHLIGHTS:
1. The Question Bully - "where are you going? How old are you? Do you like bacon? etc..."
2. Sheep Shaped - so satisfying to say.
3. The UkuLady sometimes is UkuLazy
4. Octacado, Pentacado, Hexacado - 8, 5, 6-sided avocados - Song about it on www.TheUkuLady.com
5. This hilarious kid, Jake, 8yrs, told me he invented a new game called Chess, Version 2.
6. Overheard: a kid in the costume barn saying, concerned, "Do you think I need to reserve the giant fish?"
7. The Fez Dispenser - dispenses fez hats.
8. A friend is someone you almost never disagree with.
9. Meat Corn - a hot dog with meat giblets as kernels.
10. The poignancy of Earnest Teen Poems. That's poems written by artsy, angsty, beautiful teens. I was one once.
11. Wavy recommends that all the kids go home and pick up a copy of Neruda. Pablo.
12. Must write song with the rhyme Molasses/Jackie Onassis
13. Christ Crispies
14. Kneecaps and kneecamps - hats and summer camps for knees.
I'm working on my Love Strategy this year. This includes saying hello to strangers on the street in LA and elsewhere. I've started and it's made a remarkable difference. People smile and are surprised that they are smiling and saying hello back. Everyone feels better. Blog and Readers, I dare you to embark on a Saying-Hello-To-Strangers Campaign. I'm a total fucking hippie, but those hippies sure have some things right...
Now I have given you, Blog, a brief glimpse of The Best Place on Earth, I can resume my usual queries and concerns about what's really important, did Paris get raped in jail or not? The evil part of me really hopes so.
Love The UkuLady
PS: Patch Adams, clown, activist, humanitarian, did a workshop on Love Strategies and did a skit urging the audience to Love every being, Al Quada, terrorist, Dick Cheney and Paris Hilton. I easily brought myself to say, I love Al Quada and the Terrorist, but simply could not say, I love Cheney or Paris. That's fucked up.
Love The UkuLady

UkuLady at Circus Camp!

Dear Blog and readers!
Sorry for the extended vacation of sarcastic/earnest life observation and conversation! I've been working at the best, most fun place on earth, Camp Winnarainbow - www.CampWinnarainbow.org, teaching improv and songwriting and hanging out with hilarious children who talk about being superheros like Captain Traffic, inventors and love robots and volcanoes! I've unplugged from LA, cell phone and the internet for 2 weeks and am about to embark on a third magical week, complete with truth-spouting kids, clwon/doctor, Patch Adams and activist/clown, Wavy Gravy. An in-depth blog is forthcoming when I return to civilization; when my life is non-consumed by the pressing urgency of the Tornado of Talent, Unicycle Unispies and fire-juggling-training; when superheroes, strawberry-flavored t-bone steaks, and Mock-Facial-Hair Thursday are but a memory....Then I will weave the web of wonder for you, dear Blog and readersies!
Until next week, Love The UkuLady

Paris, Pork Shows & Organic Ice!

Paris, Pork Shows & Organic Ice!
Dear Blog,
Poor fucking Paris Hilton! Not only did she totally miss out on the true prison experience, being released after only 3 days in jail, but she apparently has a medical condition which prevents her from being in prison; however, not from basking in gourmet cupcakes, which the LA Times reported, greeted her upon her return home to her mansion-condo. She probably had her period and God knows, that's a messy prison rape, for sure. Paris certainly brings out a peculiar hatred, in me, usually reserved for dark-side-evangelical-political-hypocrite-types.
Meanwhile, notes from the Comedy Book:
1. Busy & Picky - Sisters!
2. Pork Shows
3. Organic Ice
4. Hair Frosting; as in the '80's trend....
5. The Sneaky Teens! A band!
6. Sport Breath! A freshener.
7. Hot Rocks! A snack?
Love The Ukulady
PS: An Only In LA Moment: The other day I mistook a small dog for a cat. In a Snackery the other day, I saw this apparent cat, had an instant Concerned Moment, as I'm allergic to cats and then I realized it was a tiny dog that looked like a cat.
PPS: The news of Paris's prison release was on the LA Times front page alongside Iraq bombings and stem cell stuff. I bet Nicole Richie is fucking pissed at her publicist because she wasn't sent to prison for driving the wrong way on the freeway; which is equally bad as driving drunk around Beverly Hills, Paris's Oopsies!

I Heart Yoga!

Lindsay VS. Iraq

Dear Blog,
I like to drink my strong-imported-from-San-Francisco-french-pressed-coffee and read the morning news made out of paper. This morning I discovered that these days I care very little about the latest bullshit from Bush, Baghdad and Barack. What compels me is the front-page news of Lindsay Lohan's cocaine 'n' alcohol Memorial Day weekend binge. I scan the Iraq Casualty/Hillary Clinton headlines, but read the entire article about Lindsay Lohan's fuck-ups. And I love it. I want more from Lindsay. I want Lindsay to wrinkle early, to burn visible cocaine holes in her face, to get fat. This is front-page news in America. I don't want to be sad and frustrated that poor kids who want to go to college on the GI bill are being killed along with thousands of darkies in the Cradle of Civilization. I want to feel good about myself. And knowing that Lindsay, Paris & Brittney appear to be empty vessels of insecurity, self-loathing and saddness, makes me feel good about myself!
Love The UkuLady
PS: I'm also compelled by the Food section. I like it when the restaurant critics hate. I like the expensive fussy-food restaurants to be ripped apart and the cheap taco trucks & pie shacks, celebrated.
PPS: Unfortunately Lindsay's latest debacle will only earn her more money as no publicity is bad publicity. If only she'd give some of her endorsement cash to the homeless junkies who can't afford the outrageously-priced rehabs; instead she purchases thousand-dollar tee-shirts to wear with No Underwear.
PPS: I just called Promises Rehab Center and they refused to tell me how much they charge per day. And their website does not offer that information. If you have to ask, you can't afford it.
PPPS: I feel like a real Beat Reporter doing actual blog-research to give my readers the price of Lindsay's rehab center! I feel smugly self-satistfied, pleased with my brief foray into real fact-finding.
PPPPS: I'll continue the rehab-price-research, but not right now.

DrySack & Donald Trump

Dear Blog,
There is a sherry called DrySack. So dirty. It just can't avoid sounding like a withered leathered dry testicle sac. I'm drinking it in the recording studio right now and mixing down a song about going shopping with Donald Trump, who I think resembles a DrySack. Not the sherry.
Love The UkuLady
PS: Watched some Hawaii Five O this afternoon and sipped DrySack with my pal. Hawaii Five 0 is an incredible show.

Chocolate People, B-Words & Pirates!

Dear Blog!
If people were made out of chocolate we'd all have to live in Scandinavia, The North Pole or Greenland, so's not to melt. Then we'd all become really skilled at winter sports, ice fishing and the summer Olympics would probably die out. The Pioneers probably never tasted chocolate.
Also:
1. Bluff Yourself! The Game! It seems like everyone in LA is playing that game.
2. Blahverages - really boring drinks.
Love The UkuLady
PS: I recently misspelled my name Thessalty. That's me when I'm feeling pirate-ish, but not the stupid movie franchise bullshit, barely salvageable by the Hottest Man Alive, Johnny Depp. Non-sell-out-yet piratey.
PPS: When I have a cold or allergies, I'm Sniffaly Lerner.

Don't Make Fun of Children & Humans

Banned from Canters!

Dear Blog,
The UkuLady has been Banned from Canters! I showed up for my final show on Tuesday, to the news that a Canter's patron called to complain that The UkuLady is Too Loud and Terribly Offensive. Someone hated me so much that they actually took time out of their day to use the telephone to bitch. Perhaps The Offended hadn't slept well that night with queries such as "Who Can we Hate Now that Saddam is dead?" and visions of Brittney Spear's cooter-meat being strapped into her panties-TheUkuLady-will-show-her-how-to-put-on, haunting his pastrami-digesting dreams That's awesome! Someone's meatwich was ruined by a diminutive cultural-Heeb playing ukulele! That's Power! Maybe as The Offended was biting into his 'wich, the pastrami swelled into view, a bright cooter-red, as I simultaneously sang the word Vagina or Fuck; although after my second censorship warning, I really curbed the Fucks, replacing it with Fuhh.... or F'ed.
My initial thought was Paris Hilton had been at Canter's and heard my new song about going to jail together and I got really excited. But I don't think Paris eats solid food.
So the news of no show was jarring, as I had a crew of supporters coming to the Kibitz Room to hear me play. Ultimately I used my adorability and Emerson College Interpersonal Communication skills and talked Bea into letting The UkuLady play her final show. I told her I would be really quiet and not say fuck or vagina. I tried, but towards the end of my set I just couldn't hold back and as I knew I wouldn't be returning anyway, I played Jenna Bush, the first censured UkuLady song and closed the show with a rousing "We're Taking Ecstacy on Sunday; Instead of Worshipping the Patriarchal God, We'll Have Oral Sex In Bed." I was a huge hit. People loved me. And probably some hated me. Good Times.
Love The UkuLady
PS: I've renamed my legs my Walking Arms.
PPS: The UkuLady is floored by the stupidity and blindness of the peeps who built and wholeheartedly believe in The Creationism Museum, where children are being taught that humans and dinosaurs co-existed.

Cupcakes & Art!

Rainbow Connection for Casper

Holiday Meat & Pet-Snack-Meat!

Dear Blog,
This weekend it was determined that all meat is Holiday Meat! Ham, Lamb, Turkey, Steak, Hamburgers, Hot dogs! There was a discussion about Chicken being a rather non-special-occasion meat, and the reality is my people, The Heebs, always roast a chicken for Special Occasion Holidays. Even the humble Bologna is a celebratory eating event for some. My BFF from Amish Country (see www.TheUkulady.com songpage, The MakeOut Song), looks forward to his visits home and a homecoming holiday meal of special Amish-Country Bologna. Meat-Eating is a Special Occasion!
On a related note, this morning I ran into a friend who was feeding her dog Beatrice a Braided Bull Penis. Seriously. Apparently it is a delicious-to-dogs-snack, for realsies. I was fascinated. The Braided Bull Penis looked like any other leathery pet-meat-snack, no signs of it's semi-shocking origins.
Love The UkuLady
PS: I was pleased my pal was feeding Beatrice Braided Bull Penis. I heart alliteration!

Jack&Thessaly Discuss Chicken & Technology

UkuLady & Jefbot!

Dead Gay-Pink Al Quada Guy (not a VLOG)

Dear Blog,
A couple days ago the front page of the New York Times featured a photograph of a dead Al Quada guy shrouded in a bright gay-pink sheet wraplet. He looked like a dead gay terrorist. It was a fucked up photo. The dead-guy on the front page part, not the cute pink shroudy-wrap. Queer eye probably gave the shroudlet a hearty Outfit Book Yes!
Love The UkuLady
PS: I broke up with my roommate and it went extremely poorly. Much worse than my awesome breakup with my awesome (seriously) ex Boyfriend/Current Best Friendsie.
PPS: Breakups aren't very funny. Too bad Brittney and Paris are laying so low. I could have used some celebrity downfall distraction today.

Me & Donald Trump!

Poor Paris Vlog!

AnotherBreakUpSong STUDIOVideo!

Forshadowing a Breakup...

Dear Blog,
The UkuLady is playing toy xylophone in the studio today! Re-living my breakup recording Another Breakup Song for the upcoming UkuLady album. Breaking up is hard to do...More on this coming soon.
Love The Ukulady

The 80's & Jack

Dear Blog,
I forgot to tell you that Now We Have Faces! is the awesome collaboration between me and my delightful Sim voiceover work-associate, Jack. He finally graduated last year from college, so now we can take the magic that happens in the Sims recording studios, where we speak gibberish all day long, and creat magical, funny and beautiful things in English in the real world!
It's funny hanging out with a recent college graduate and his pals because they are doing things like just discovering Tom Waits. And sometimes Bill (Sims producer) Chris (Sims engineer) and I will be chatting about 80's pop culture and Jack has no idea what we are talking about. OMG! For instance, I just tested Jack (He's sitting on the couch next to me) and I asked him if he knows who Cyndi Lauper is and he straightfaced, said no. He seriously doesn't know who she is. Ok, I just tested him again; I said, in order, "Do you know who RIcky Schroeder is? Gary Coleman? Golden Girls?" And he said no to all of them. And then he said, with an intellectual wave of his hand, "I mean, these are all people I've heard of...but..." OMG!
OMG againsies! I just sang this song to Jack, "Believe it or not, I'm walking on air, I never thought I could feel so free..." And he has never heard that song. Imagine a life without the theme song from Greatest American Hero! Poor Jack.
However, although we can't chat about Rose, Blanche, Dorothy and Ma, among the many great things about hanging out with a recent college grad, is he's totally got the scoop on technology, like youtube, myspace, google, final cut pro! For Jack and I in action see the new videos on The UkuLady's myspace page! and on Now We Have Faces myspace page!
Love The UkuLady
PS: Hungry Like The Wolf video in NYC is up on www.TheUkuLady.com!

Now We Have Faces! Some 411

Dear Blog,
Jack is crazy about proper grammar! He' so high maintenance but I love him anyway and Now We Have Faces, our new band, which I think needs an exclamation point at the end, but Jack is mulling that over, is totally awesomesies! We've written 3 kick-ass songs this weekend, but Jack won't let me put rough scratchy tracks on our myspace page because he's also a perfectionist. No wonder he went to Stanford.
Love The UkuLady
PS: I'm going to put rough scratchy tracks on www.myspace/NowWeHaveFaces anyway. PPS: I get to because I'm older than Jack and sometimes I pull rank.
PPPS: Being in a band with someone is like a marriage and takes a lot of Compromise. PPPPS: It's not hard to compromise with Jack though because he's awesome and hilarious.
PPPPPS: Oh, Me and Jack, my co-worker on The Sims 2 (Teenage Boy) are a band and a comedy team and are working very hard to create some stellar content! www.myspace.com/NowWeHaveFaces

Dear Outfit Book!

Dear Blog!
I've been meaning to blog (verb and noun!) about The Outfit Book forever and now's my chance! What is the Outfit Book? This is it:
Dear Outfit Book!
Today I looked so cute! I was wearing green capri's and a yellow shirt, the one with arm-sleeve stripes and everyone kept saying how slim and great I looked all day long! Love Thessaly
Or:
Dear Outfit Book!
Today I looked totally hot! I was wearing my new red dress, knee socks and mary janes! Everyone noticed how cute I totally am! Love Thessaly
Or:
Dear Outfit Book!
Low-rise jeans are totally out of control! Ass crack is not hot and neither is the Muffin-Top. Love Thessaly
PS: Today I wore a pink tankini and orange flipflops!
Or:
Dear Outfit Book!
Today I felt fat all day long and my underwear went up my ass all day. Please remember to throw away those stupid superman panties and never wear the cordoroy fatty-girl slacks. Love Thessaly
Love The UkuLady
PS: Dear Outfit Book!
International Party Girl, Paris Hilton wears the ugliest outfits! I hope she gets a yeast infection in jail.

JetSetting & Sims Comedy Gold!

JetSetting & Sims Comedy Gold!
Dear Blog!
Last week was the most jet-setty week eversies! Within 2 days The UkuLady Felt the Magic in 4 major US cities, Boston, NYC, LA and SF! Upon my return to LA, I took a quickie yoga class with Tony (Remarkable yoga teacher: see wwwTheUkuLady.com song "Kick Ass Friend"), where I determined that yes indeed, minor indie-cult celebrity, Miranda July, is in my yoga class and we have spotted each other's handstands. She's not a very good spotter or handstander, but yoga isn't a place to judge, it's a place to gain understanding and expand outward while drawing inward to the core!
UkuLady Jetset Schedule:
TUESDAY:
AM: Boston - NYC
Day - PM: NYC - LA
picked up by the awesome Don Black (www.TheUkuLady.com inspiration for "The MakeOut Song"), who I don't want to make out with anymore, but he has moved into Best Friend Spot Number Onesies! (in LA). We ate peanuts in his truck and I misheard him call himself Dr. Festival. He said something else, but who cares because Dr. Festival is hilarious.
WEDNESDAY:
AM: Piled-up-mail browse-through, quickie repack and off to yoga where I apparently have gained "muscle memory", because I wasn't as sucky as I would have thought after such a long yoga hiatus.
Afternoon: Burbank - Oakland! for a record-comedy-notebook Sim Session Thursday! Sim voiceover director/Funniest-Man-Alive (tiesies with D. Black) Bill, was in rare form. He had been in the Sims studio for 12 days in a row. Here are the highlights! Understand these highlights are born from 6 hours of speaking gibberish. That's improv! :
SIM SESH HIGHLIGHTS:
1. Ready and…Tai Chi!
2. Color me Crazy!
3. Friend + Energy = Frengery!!!
4. A Ricotta Frittata on Ciabatta, eaten at the Regatta on the Watah.
5. Party Luge to the SexOlympics! It was funny at the time.
6. The Glove Boot.
7. Get ready for the LernerBurger with Conte Sauce (Jack Conte is my teen Sim counterpart). No one's ever called me LernerBurger. Love it.
8. Anonymous Sex Island!
9. Hobosexual – the gay homeless train-hoppers.
9.1 Man Glance! Perhaps what Hobosexuals shoot each other…
9.2 Bitch Tap! A new musical.
9.3 Tai Cheese.
9.4 Knife Eyes! A cousin of the Man Glance?
10. Comedy Wishes: Such as, "Please let Satan invite me to his birthday party!"
11. Jack said, "Thess can't reach because she has Shrinky arms."
12. Chicken Strips at the Strip Mall
13. Fish Sticks vs. Fish Strips
14. The Cooter Computer.
15. A Chair-Hog is Mr. Greedy Chairs.
16. What is the opposite of the Friend Heart?
17. 17. Cherish the Rainbow! A demand.
Love The UkuLady
PS: Bill is as funny as S. Colbert. As funny as J. Black. He's amazing.

Brittney & Paris, SlutWhors

Dear Blog,
The front page to the LA Times this morning featured a color picture of Paris Hilton and the headline, Paris Goes to Jail! I added the exclamation point! Blog and Readiers, I hope that whore gets prisonrapef***ed up the ass with a steel pipe. Seriously. I really kind of hope that happens to Paris Hilton in the Lynwood jail, where she will spend 45 days for drunk driving around LA for the third time. Perhaps it's awful and mean of me to wish such violence on another human being, but I so greatly dislike Paris and sickly, it would bring me joy to see her feel pain.
In other news, Brittney is doing secret Brittney shows at House Of Blueses around the globe. How boring. Do something interesting, Brittney, like get knocked up again by someone really repulsive or scandalous or do something self-destructive and summon Child Protective Services to your Malibu mansion again . Performing is boring. I hope Brittney and Paris release a lesbian sex tape.
Meanwhile, the UkuLady is back in LA, navigating traffic caused by drunked celebrities in beemers and illegal immigrants in mini-vans.
Love The UkuLady
PS: I'm so jetlagged nothing is very funny, so apologies for a somewhat boring blog. Sims session comedy-notes coming soon!

Massholes!

Dear Blog!
Greetings from my college town, home of the Masshole, Boston! Who is the Masshole, you ask, Blog and readers-who-have-not-lived-in-New England? The Masshole is the blue-collar native of Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Rhode Island, perhaps Connecticut.
On Easter, the liquor store near my BFF's apartment, hosted the Easter Bunny, so drinkers with children could conveniently combine an Easter-alcohol-shopping trip and a photo opportunity with the Easter Bunny. A Masshole is someone who, non-ironically, would take advantage of this exciting festive experience. We visited this liquor store last night, to purchase beer to accompany an anticipated spicy-dinner. I was pushing the stroller containing adorable baby Ray and the liquor store lady, described by my BFF (who is a published writer: www.RoseGowen.com) as jowly bleached blond smelling of cigarettes, said in heavy Boston accent, which means no R's, "The'es goldfish ovah he'ah fo'wah the baby." I relayed that we were headed next door to Wang's Dumplingery for delcious zagat-rated dumplings 'n' crispychicken; the liquor store lady wrinkled her nose, packed up another customer's Colt 45 and expressed distaste for Wang's, describing it as "fancy".
She is a Masshole. It's not a mean thing, it's just a fact. There are rednecky types all the world but the kind born and raised in and around New England is particular to the region. They descend from fishering folk, enjoy Keno and their grandchildren tweenagers give blow jobs to the carnies at Whalin' Park in Fitchburg MA. I learned the term from my many college pals who grew up amongst the Massholes. The Masshole women may also wear sweatshirts with kittens and puppies and Masshole men are beefy with work boots, ball caps with a super-curved brim and both genders smoke, drink and doubtfully do yoga.
Travel brings out the snob in me.
Love The UkuLady
PS: I've developed a heavy celebrity crush on Gael Garcia Bernal! HOT! Meow! Yum! He's been dating Natlie Portman, so now I hate her. But it's promising that my Celebrity Boyfriend Gael likes Heeb ladies.
PPS: My snobbery is totally curbed watching the movie "The Science of Sleep", where everyone is tri-lingual. I need to learn Spanish and brush up on my French so I can steal Gael's heart away from that whore Natalie....

UkuLady in NYC & DuranDuran!

Dear Blog!
Greetings from NYCsies! UkuLady observations of the Capital of Planet Earth:
1. NYC has total Cupcake Fever! They are Everywhere and are twinkie-fied, with frosting centers!
2. Subway is the best teenager-watching! NYC teens are tough and many favor accessories with the word Phat emblazoned on the purse, shirt, hat.
3. Unlike Texas, everything is smaller in NYC. Less room, more people. Houston is more room, big people, perhaps due to large rib portions. How presumptuous of me.
4. NYC is almost like Burning Man to me, in that I'm having sensory overload. Too many cupcakes to taste, too many awesome old friends to see, too many amazing museums and shows I have no time for.
Meanwhile, in other news, when is Katie Holmes going to leave Tom?
Meanwhile, my awesome college galpal BFF, with whom I am staying, is recently single, so I've been coaching her on Making Out with Boys. The favored line is straightforward, "Hey, wanna make out?" delivered in a coy, middle-schoolish way. I'm encouraging her to do some frenching with a variety of fellas before her summer-camp boyfriend moves from New Mexico to her Brooklyn pad, for what seems to be an inspiring long-term mutual-admiration-society moving into fruition - that word looks weird.
My galpal and I worked out an amazing version of "Hungry Like The Wolf" voice and uke last night. We also sang our way through the libretto to "Working", which she directed and cast me in, in college. We agreed there is no choice but to hate Brent Popilizzio, who has become a minor Nickelodeon heartthrob to tweenagers and subsequently has become a total asshole; we googled forgotten classmate/theater majors and we called old college pals and sang "Hungry Like The Wolf" into their voicemails. I'm so selfishly pleased my married girlfriends are starting to get divorces because then they have more time for important galpal activities, iike shopping for liquid glitter eyeliner (which, upon purchase my galpal said to me, "What, are you a drag queen?" and I was like, "No duhsies!") and honing earnestly-delivered renditions of Duran Duran medleys. Rio is on the schedule next.
Good Album or Band Name: Worm Hospital
Love The Ukulady
PS: I will return to NYC forever, but I am a total California girl and yearn for palm trees, beaches and the Golden Gate bridge.
PPS: Yearn, in that I feel cozily nostalgic for home when I travel, but not in that I'm homesick and ready to leave. I could stay in NYC for weeks, as long as I maintained my sorely-missed Anusara yoga schedule.

UkuLady in Houston & Cameltoe FatPouch!

Dear Blog,
I write this from the Everybody-Is-Allowed-Area of Houston Hobby Airport, where the native Texans flock to bid farewells. Everything really is Bigger in Texas. The American Obesity Epidemic is in full bloom here at the Houston airport. In one way, it’s refreshing to be amidst absolutely zero junkie-style-meth-freak hipsters; the Silverlake (LA) Mission (SF) Williamsburg (NYC) artsy hipsters (of which, I’m admittedly, probably one), with super skinny jeans and shaggy/wispy haircuts and eighties-style ballerina flats (although I have none of the above). Although the hipsters are lacking, flats, the shoe, are all over the Houston airport, along with the cork-heeled wedgie; however most of the flats here in Houston encircle sausage-like feet, stuffed into the pleather and fleshily bursting below the cuffs of high-rise pants! Yes, they are alive and well here in Houston! I haven’t seen high-rise jeans in years and I’m pleased to announce they have never gone away. Being at the Houston airport has brought to light an extremely disturbing phenomenon; the Fat-Pouch Cameltoe Roll. I write this dispatch, seemingly surrounded by the displeasing spectacle. It is a cameltoe that goes beyond the Muffin, squeezing the belly of American Obesity Epidemic Victims, into two parts, a vertical equatorial vagina-line; essentially prolonging normal cameltoe all the way to the waist. It’s really unattractive.
Houston Hobby also has an abundance of American Flag garments, from tee-shirts to hats to the previously discussed, ties. I’ve also seen a lot of teen mothers, few non-white people and many skinny-thighed-but-enormously-bellied-women, which makes me feel kind of jealous, as skinny thighs seem to be a genetically-unattainable goal. I also think about how Anusara yoga would really be great for all the Houston Plumpies.
LATER:
I am now in the Passenger-Only waiting area and Aha! Here’s where all the non-white people are. It’s It’s A Small World in real life here amongst the peeps headed to the Capital Of Planet Earth, NYC. The people-color medley reminds me of why I love NYC; the medley, buzzing together in the beehive of the 5 boroughs, forced to interact with one another on the subway, on the streets, in the high-rises. In LA we are isolated in our cars, our huge boulevards and tract-house developments. LA is a medley of peeps, but Angelinos are rarely forced to interact with people other than their constituency. I go to my agency, interact with other voiceover actors; I go to my yoga studio, interact with yoga people, go to gay bars, interact with my gay men. In my neighborhood, I am somewhat ostracized by my Latino neighbors, glared at for asking them to park better so we can all fit, and disliked for moving their trash bins placed in prime-parking spots every garbage night. Crash is totally a right-on movie. The trick to Enjoyment of LA Living is discovering community. Fucking hippie.
Love The UkuLady
PS; Brittney would friggin love the Houston Airport - she'd be amongst her people!

UkuLady in The AIR!

Dear Blog,
OMG! The Pioneers would totally lose their minds if they knew that today, not only are travelers able to traverse the country in a single day, but that feat is accomplished by flying n a giant metal ‘n’ plastic machine, and one can also use a computer in the air! This is the Ukulady’s first time utilizing Tallulah Petunia Mackulele aloft. Some pre-NYC traveling observations:
1. It is not the wisest choice to request a ride to the airport from a Stoner. Time has no meaning for them, aside from 4:20. I know this because in my youth I was a stoner. Highlights from those years include smoking pot all over Europe; sub-highlight of that highlight, was puffing from an orange Fanta can at Jim Morrison’s Paris grave, where my pals and I gleefully spotted nearby graffiti declaring, “Smoke Pot!”; smoking dirt which had desperately been scoured from a carpet where the bowl had fallen, and as we were either too desperate or too high to discern or care about the difference between the cheap Boston schwag we smoked and actual dirt, so the bowl was repacked; and being caught in the dorms smoking pot senior year in college, by the junior-year RA. Alongside me was Former-Comedy-Partner and Best-Gay-Friend-From-Chicago. FCP was, at the time of Caught! an employee of the college and amazingly, not fired. BGFFC was hit with a hefty fine hours before graduation, which, unless the hefty fine was paid asap, he would be uninvited to graduate from college, potentially robbing his family, who had traveled from California to witness the event, of the inevitable joy and pride the commencement ceremony evokes. He paid the fine. I was sent to Emerson College Drug rehab, where I was the lone senior amongst freshman and we were asked to complete time-wasting tasks, such as listing all the words for being stoned.
So my stoner airport ride was late, but made up for it, by driving me all the way to LAX, rather than the flyaway bus stop. Stoner-Ride’s dashboard displayed healing herbs (not pot) and a half-smoked spliff lay in that little pouchy-scoopy thing under the ashtray – that resty thingy that in my car, holds an old mix tape from my ex ex ex and an aromatherapy squirty bottle from my Current Crush.
2. Once through security at LAX, I made a beeline to the airport lit corner to find out what’s going on with Brittney! Instead of Brittney, People and In Touch, both renown celebrity trash rags, featured cover stories on Prince William’s breakup and Virginia Tech. It’s says a lot about our culture that Prince William’s breakup and the Virginia Tech senselessness, tragedy, loss-for-words-to-describe-the vast and varied emotions-brought-on-from-it, share a magazine cover. I guess Brittney’s laying low.
3. LAX has superior people watching! I can’t wait to get to Houston though, where I’ll really have a lot to say! Already, my flight to Houston carries people in cowboy hats and thick accents and the heavily-twanged couple across the aisle from me are drinking his ‘n’ hers Bud Lights at 11am. Who does that besides rednecks, all-night-gamblers or circuit-party-goers? No, circuit-party boys do E and drink Red Bull. It is in airports where I feel the most repulsively smugly-superior; clutching my New Yorker, as I expertly make my way through the throngs of less-experienced travelers. I’m such a schmuck, judging others on their romance-novel reading-material and lack of familiarity with the new travel rules and regulations. I’m a total judegmental snob, but like Anne Frank, I ultimately do believe everyone is good at heart. What a fucking hippie thing to say. I played Anne once, so I feel I can quote her, as I embodied her for an exhausting 3 months. It was a highly successful run and the final performance I went onstage with a fever of 104, and subsequently went to the hospital afterwards, suffering from a friggin kidney infection.
Love The Ukulady
PS: Time to read up on the cultural events on NYC that I simply cannot miss! NYC makes me feel like Eloise, my first NYC fantasy!
PPS: I even put a rubber band around my nose once, to be just like Eloise, and the tip of my nose was literally purple for a week. Ahhh, childhood….

Disneyland Magic!

Dear Blog!
Today was a Special Occasion! In honor of Don Black's 30th birthday last September, I took him to Disneyland! Along for the Special O, were two delightful galpalsies FolkFlower & Saturn Girl. Literally. Folkflower is my Indigo Girls friend and Saturn Girl is my voiceover friend. We were Team Great Day and it was.
Here are the observations from the Gay Boy Capital of Southern California, aka, The Happiest Place on Earth (untrue):
1. Jean Shorts are unattractive on Everyone. Even The Slim should not wear Jean Shorts. I mean the jean shorts that are hemmed and made as shorts, not jean pants which have been haphazardly cut in the heat of summer, to provide relief from a sweltering sun and teen angst. Jean cutoffs, depending on length and the form-fittingness, are on the edge of ok. I believe jeans are meant to be a long-panted garment and are fairly hideous on everyone, as a short. Particularly the plump are fashion-no's, in jean shorts. Not that I am a fashion maven, but I feel strongly about the jean short.
2. Shorts are a tricky item. Many shorts are poorly cut or thoughtlessly designed. It seems the majority of shorts cause it's wearer to look fat, dowdy and ultimately touristy.
3. Shorts that do not fit into the above catagory include Dickies brand, and any baggy-ish cutoffy-Non-Pleated (extremely important) and shorts that go Below the Knee. For some reason, above-the-knee shorts are unflattering on almost everyone; women have a far more difficult task, looking good in shorts, than men. Some woman are luckily, blessed with cellulite-free genes. Not me. Happily, as I found out today, at Disneyland, not most women. Even the slimmest of the slim, generally have cellulite.
4. Almost all the youthful collegiate ride-assistants at Disneyland are totally my peeps, gay boys. Cute musical theatery fellows. It's an interesting juxtoposition, as Walt Disney was a nazi supporter and sheltered several nazi scientists after the Holocaust. These pals of Walt, were the first Imagineers. So it's odd that so many gay men love Disneyland. I love it too. I think it's the kitsch.
5. The best part of Disneyland is the landscaping. Great plants.
6. Gluttony is in the air at Disneyland. What is it about Main Street USA, which feeds me with the impulse to buy ice cream, taffy apples and grandma's fudge? Something about the Good Old Fashioned Fun...leads to Old Fashioned All-American Gluttony. Team Great Day resisted the sugar everywhere and ended our Special Occasion Day in LA's Chinatown. My fortune said I deserve respect and would soon get it. Bring it, Hollywood.
7. I was surprised at the under-abundance of obesity at Disneyland. Certainly I saw my fair share of overly-large "guests", as they call us, but it was nothing compared to the horrifying LA County Fair (see www.TheUkulady.com songpage song: LA County Fair)
8. Small World has a sign right before you embark into the line which says "On This Ride You Will Be Serenaded by Costumed Children From Around The World". Hilarious. Costumed cardboard cut-outs.
9. In Echo Park, before we left for the OC, one galpal told us that her bikini-waxer said,"A girl must 'Scrub The Muffin'". Reminded me of Best Chicago Gay Friend, who's African American officemate told her grandchildren to, "Clean Out Your Pocketbooks Real Good".
10. Speaking of hoohas, the UkuLady was preceded last night at Canter's Kibitz, by the worst singer/songwriter I've ever heard. He actually, earnestly, sang a song which repeatedly included the lyrics, "I wanna kiss her vagina". Makes me feel dirty just writing it. He was sadly beyond awful. Made me feel really good about myself, in that I knew that audience would love me because I certainly would not be singing earnestly about kissing any unmentionables.
Love The UkLady
PS: I love cowboys, pirates, pioneers, cartoon vegetables, ghosts, tropical knick-knackery and mermaids. Ultimately, that's what Disneyland is. And spaceships, ice cream socials, frogs, teacups, butterflies, eyelashed woodland creatures and indiana jones.
PPS: All the ladies of Team Great Day agreed we would totally get it on with Harrison Ford, even in his old-age.

Couch Count of EP

Dear Blog,
Just a quickie update on the Couch Count of The Couches of Echo Park: today in a two-block radius I counted 5 couches! This is a ridiculous number of streetcouches. Mostly because I don't understand how the abandoned pee-ridden-beer'n'cat-hair-coated couches are always in front of the seemingly-same apartment buildings. Are the inhabitants constantly purchasing new and discarding used, couches? I am a one-couch kind of gal. In my SF apartment, we had The Pink Whale, a vintage pink couch which was so large, it took over 8 hours to get into the apartment. Moving out, The Pink Whale was sadly and rather violently, chopped into pieces. Subsequently, my Echo Park pad had one distressingly-dusty totally-uncomfortable couch, which left Echo Park with the Big Change (breakup - see www.TheUkuLady.com songpage for breakup songs: Ice Cream, Another Breakup Song, Bonnie Brae Lament). I now play ukuele on Marty Ballins's (of The Jefferson Airplane) couch in EP. It is aqua and black vinyl, art-deco, purchased at his garage sale. In Marin County it is normal for aging rock stars to have garage sales. So I've had 2 couches in 3 years, which seems reasonable, almost extravagant. Apparently my neighbors are re-furnishing every week or two.... Weird.
Love The UkuLady
PS: Hilary Duff's album is being marketed as "The Most Highly Anticipated Album of the Year!". By whom? Certainly not I, nor anyone I know.
PPS: Why do airline pilots always wear American Flag ties? I think they are tacky and it doesn't make me feel any safer. If they wore ties with Muppets featured on them, then I would probably feel a warm feeling of safety, rather than the disdain and embarassment I feel when I look upon the American Flag.

Cinchy!

Dear Blog,
The UkuLady is so over news of suicide bombings in iraq, racial--freakout-incidents and the Severe Lack of Left-Turn Lanes and arrows in Los Angeles. The first two topics only briefly affect my mood. The Severe Lack Of LFT&A's in LA are a constant. As are Mini-vans, the seemingly-car-of-choice for really bad and slow drivers who are partial to beanie babies and Jesus fish. I've ranted about this before. How fucking boring and repetetive. Oh, I've been censured from my former-weekly Uke shows at the Heeb Deli for saying Fuck too much. It's my upbringing; my former-NYC-Cab-Driver dad says it a lot too, as in "These fucking mini-van drivers driving 45 in the fucking fast lane on the fucking freeway!".
Meanwhile, I'm wondering if the kids are still saying, "Get Jiggy" and "That's da Bomb". My yoga teacher said "Cinchy" the other day, as in, "This pose is cinchy!" It wasn't, but she was describing the kind of attitude that will make the pose Cinchy. Love Cinchy. I don't feel comfortable saying "Jiggy". Cinchy, though...bring it!
Love The UkuLady
PS: I did my taxes and it was pretty cinchy! Everyone should be taught by a fiscally-saavy cultural-heeb (my dad) how to do their own taxes. It's cinchy!
PPS: I'm totesies getting money back!
PPS: The Heebs are truly genetically-fiscally saavy. No one can fire me from my job as the UkuLady, for saying that; because I work for myself; because I am a fiscally-saavy cultural-heeb. It's true. Us, the frizzy-headed, pushy, loud-mouths are totally good with money. It's cinchy because it's genetic. Bring on the debate....(See www.TheUkuLady.com songpage song, "Waxing Confessional")

Brittney's New Website

Dear Blog,
I rarely have time to "surf" the internet, however yesterday, I found myself in the recording studio watching my producer mix and edit a UkuLady album track. It was kind of ackward sitting there, in the funsies rolling chair, watching him work, so I decided to do a little detective work online and see what Brittney has been up to lately. I've visited her official website before, which is where I learned of the launch of her perfume line, distressingly named, "In Control" (see www.TheUkuLady.com song page song called "Brittney's New Fragrance").
Her pre-rehab website featured pastel colors and a magical animated fairy blowing bubbles. Well Blog, there has been a major shift in Brittney's online marketing campaign. Her post-rehab website home page features a scantily-clad Spears, splayed out in a Come-Fuck-Me-But-First-You-Have-To-Unpeel-The-Tiny-Extremely-Low-Cut-Shorts-I'm-Barely-Wearing. Beside her whore-photo, are animated rotating "Dear Brittney" letters from fans. These rotating letters say things like, "Heal Brittney!" Tammi, Nebraska and "You are an extremely talented young woman and don't let anyone tell you otherwise!" Shep, Manitoba, Canada.
She's really good at doing a pouty child-like-pucker-fuck-me facial expression.
I'm glad I'm not her nanny, child or lover. She seems really high maintenence.
Love The UkuLady
PS: I also went to Lindsey Lohan's website, which also blends the popular Child-Whore image, featuring baby-pink heartsies and fucking hot pictures of Lindsey. She is totally sexy and hot. Brittney, not so much.
PPS: Hypocrisy Thrives! I'm referring to the worldwide epidemic of pedophilia, child-porn and the repulsive sexualization of children. Hellosies? How about not whoring out children? (see www.TheUkuLady.com songpage song "Poor Brittney") That will probably aid in the decline of the rampant epidemic which troubles me to repeat-the-nouns in writing.
If you're going to be a whore, admit it! Own it! Commit to it! Don't pretend you are a non-whore! Be a whore! But be a grown-up whore and lose the child-like fuck-me-pout.
PPPS: As my Best-Gay-Friend-In-Chicago says, regarding tummies, "Own The Roll!"

Children, Spoken-Word & Mormons

Dear Blog,
Children are generally so cute that even if they were murderers, one would still feel compelled to say, "Awww!" if that child performed a skill at a talent show or something of that ilk.
Love The UkuLady
PS: The UkuLady is pretty different than spoken-word poets. Both are expressing themselves, but The UkuLady isn't quite so earnest, except when she is singing earnestly about love and breaking up. Big Love (but not the Mormon HBO kind) from the UkuLady to all my Spoken-Word Peeps.
PPS: Big Love, the Mormon HBO show, made me hate Chloe Svegny, or however you spell her stupid name, even more than before. She's too cool for school and kind of looks like a horse, but not the My Little Pony kind.
PPS: I'm reading Under The Banner of Heaven, by John Krauker and it is all about how Mormonisim, the world's fastest growing "religion", which is pretty much based on rape, molestation, child abuse, women-enslavement, incest and greed. Good Times. Fucking Crazy Mormons.

Me & The Scientologists

Dear Blog!
Last night I worked, again, for The Scientologists! Dear Blog and Readers, I am so sorry I didn't tell you about the first time I worked for them. I poured that experience into song, entiltled, "I Gave My Social Security Number to The Scientologists!" (see www.TheUkuLady.com song page)
"OMG, Lerner, What is going on?" I'm sure, Blog, you are quiring in your virtual head. Well, Blog, I submitted my voiceover reel via the internet, to a recording studio producing L.Ron HUbbard's short stories and was subsequently hired. I have now recorded 2 of L.Ron's really trashy pulp fiction, audio books and hooked up another friend with the company. She has been hired much more than me; possibly owing to her willowy physique and seemingly-gentile blond-good looks. Little do the Scientologists know, she's Greek. She's also really talented, but the Scientologists, I think, really like the hot starletee beauties, and the more non-darkey-ish, the better. I say this, because L.Ron's short stories are outrageously racist and sexist. They all seem to be about the dashing white guy bringing salvation to the darkey indiginous people.
The people who work at the studio all wear the same outfit - dark pants, minty button down shirts. I wanted to ask them if they ever get to wear their own outfits, but I didn't want to be rude. My theory" the people who are insecure and lost in LA, get sucked into Scientology, a cult, because Scientology is dripping with money and power! The director of these audio books is a total industry professional. Found out last night, after he showed me family photos, that his real mom is Richie Cunningham's mom. As in Mrs. C. As in Happy Days. I was checking out his pics and I was like, your mom is so familiar...is she Jane Wyman? Or Shirley Jones? Anywaysies, the clone/droid/robot/scientology workerbees, who work for practically free, were completely over the moon about the director and his familiy. Totally starstruck. So I'd deduced that they want a piece of the pie, to touch the insider power of hollywood. Because a ridiculously large amount of powerful money people in LA are scientologists.
This is weird: last time I was there, the gaggle of uniformed-cultists, were finishing lunch, which, as I saw from my water-bottle-fill-up-stop in their kitchen, centered around a huge vat of cottage cheese. Last night, they were finishing dinner, and again, it centered around a huge vat of cottage cheese. My roommate, this morning, at coffee-making -time, agreed, that the little he knows about Scientology, he has heard of their odd cottage cheese obsession.
Ultimately, I work for the Scienologists because it's fun doing books-on-tape. L.Ron is the worst trashy-novel writer. He uses sentences like, "She had a stunningly beautiful body." (that was my character last night, an eskimo saved by the whitey) and "The Sledge dogs slavered." and "High firm breasts..."(me again). I suppose it's actually good trashy writing, but I have an extremely low-tolerance for bad writing. I'm a total writing snob, being partial to Haruki Murakami, Roald Dahl and Malcolm Gladwell.
Anywaysies, this Scietology recording studio is owned by Jazz great Chick Correa, to burst the bubble of his apparent-normalcy. They pay really badly and last night, after working for wayway below my usual payrate, i was like, "what the fuck am I doing this for?" And I was supposed to work for them tomorrow, but did some money-come-to-me chanting over my green-candle--hippie-shrine, and luckily the phone rang with a fun and well-paying vo job for some former SF clients.
I kept wanting to ask the Scientologist worker bees things like, "don't you miss wearing shoes other than sensible oxfordy-nurse shoes?" and "Are you really so lonely and insecure that you would become the pawn/semi-servant to a cult, which masks itself as a world religion, although it is based on the writings of a sex-crazed science-fiction tax-evader?" I hope they don't read my blog. They were all extremely nice and the session was fun because we laughed a lot.
Love The UkuLady
ps: There are these ridiculous posters on Hilary Duff taped to the side of the freeway exit ramp, I frequently exit. It seems like the most ludicrious place to market a talentless former-teen pop-sensation. I greatly dislike Hilary Duff, although I'm sure she is really nice. Unlike Paris Hilton, who is clearly a total bitch.
pps: My awesome gay manager danced with his new-lesbian stand-up-comic client at Zach Braff's bar mitzvah, like 20 years ago. They just figured this out because she is his new client, like me. I love him. We listened to show tunes on his tv yesterday.

Whore Potatoes & Man-Breasts

Dear Blog!
Tonight I met the ultimate temptress; I call them Whore Potatoes, made with a secret midwestern recipe. I don't know what I mean when I say Whore Potatoes. Are the potatoes the whore or am I? I think it's me who is the whore for the potatoes. Or the potatoes are a fleet of whores, tempting me with their delicious fat-tastic flavor. The Whore Potatoes were also refered to, at the LA Orphan Easter/Pagan Dinner, as Crack Potatoes. Whore Potatoes is a friendlier term, I think. Whores are more socially-acceptabe than crack. Crack is just straightup totally unredeeming, while Whores are kind of sexy, like the Nevada Mustang Ranch whores or the unionized San Francisco whores.
There used to be a streetfood Chicken stand a couple blocks from my house, on historic Route 66. The Chicken Stand was a magnet for whores, who would linger, waiting for potential clients, the drunken chicken-eaters who would (pardon the pun) flock to the Chicken Stand because it was so delicous and open latenight. We always called it Whore Chicken. It was delicious chicken. These potatoes were outrageously delicious. They had cornflakes on top. Whore Potatoes are a once-a-year treat, unless one is interested in a sheath of winter-lard.
Love The UkuLady
PS: My Best Gay Friend is feeling fat these days (he's not) and tonight insisted he was plump and hence, forced to wear a blouse. He emphatically said to me, "I'm so fat, I'm wearing a blouse!". It was kind of true, the blouse, not the fat part. It was a loose-fitting shirt, which I've rarely seen him in. Loose-fitting garments and gay men don't really go hand in hand, unless they are in a show and need to wear something gauzy, billowy or flowy. BGF also insisted that the other day that he felt oddly uncomfortable and realized the uncomfortablity was caused by his breasts making a crease. He is concerned he has an A-cup and needs to wear a sports-bra. This is not the case. He's adorable and not even pleasantly plump or chubby. Man-Blouse and Man-Breast-Crease. Nothing for my BGF to worry about, but he won't listen to me. I'm just the UkuLady, not a hot gay man ready to get down. The word blouse is hilarious when used in the context of a gay man. Same with Breast Crease. Crease is a great word.