Showing posts with label SNL. Show all posts
Showing posts with label SNL. Show all posts

Monday, May 9, 2011

hee hee hee hooey

I'm sure I'm going to piss off all kinds of people with this post. Not my intention. And it shouldn't, but you know, people feel strongly about this stuff, so...


Moments after Jack was born 4 years ago

 To each his own I say. Pray or don't pray to who you like. Love who you like. And if you want to have an epidural, it's none of my business. It's also none of my business if you want to have your baby in a hot tub, or minivan, or a tree house with no doctor present. Good for you. I think most problems in this world evolve from people caring WAY too much about other people's choices about those kind of things. 




This post is a companion piece to my friend Jason's post on JasonGOod365 this morning. It all started with this sketch on SNL this weekend about the birth class. If you didn't see it, here it is. For those of you who have had a baby, and gone to the birth class, you are dying laughing right now. For those of you who haven't or didn't, that's not actually too far from the videos they show. 


My favorite video, (all of them seem like they were shot in the late 70's early 80's) was of a large woman with a retro bush, who for some reason was completely naked save her long black slouchy socks. FOR god's sake woman! BLACK SOCKS + NAKED?! And let's just say the socks matched the drapes. There might have also been a mustache, and a mole with a hair growing out of it, but I might be embellishing. It was an awful site to behold. She kept squatting in her black socks. Her husband was wearing a tan hawaiian shirt. Nipper and I were sitting in the back, feeling like the school burnouts, trying not to giggle, and staring out the window so as not to be scarred for life by the images on screen. I don't even really know why these are considered instructional videos. Bad lighting, horrible styling (yeah, I said it) and shockingly unattractive people aside, what did we learn? Not much. Every birth is different. For the record, I was dressed, laying down, and listening to Sam Cooke and Patsy Cline (oh and CNN was on mute in the background). Let the hate mail begin. 


At the birth class we took at Cedars before Jack was born. We went every week, and learned how I might use no less than 14 pillows to sleep comfortably while pregnant. Which WAS worth the price of admission, but that was it. Oh and we learned that all of my internal organs would be pushed up somewhere around my rib cage by the time the baby was to term. I must admit that I used some of the breathing techniques while driving to the hospital, but mostly, we learned that people are SO fucking self righteous about their birth plans, their babies cord blood, and wether or not they are going to have an epidural or not. Yeesh. 


The most irritating take-over of a term by assholes, is "natural birth". Since when does it not count as natural when my baby comes out of my vagina, just like babies have been coming out, since you know, Eve ate the apple (that's what the kids are calling it these days), if I get pain medication while doing it? It's like the anti-abortion movement calling themselves pro-life, as if people who believe in choice for women, are pro-death. Shut up. None of these people ever come out and say things like "Oh, you had an un-natural birth? Too bad." But trust me, that's what they mean, when tell you they did it "naturally". 


Let me be clear, I don't care what you did, or plan to do. It's your sugar bowl, and you treat it how you want. My neighbor Brett had home births, and I think she's a VIKING. her second baby came so fast, she was home alone, while her husband was dropping Cleo off at our house across the street. He was gone 5 minutes. When he got home she shouted from the bedroom "Baby's here!", he raced in, and caught her. VIKING. 


I am not a viking. I'm a mom. Just a regular mom. I know this about myself. I want to be in a hospital, with doctors, and nurses, and people bringing me fruit juice in a giant cup with crushed ice in it after I have my baby. I know, SO selfish. I don't want to be home where I'll be thinking, "Hum, I really need to hem those curtains, while I'm getting to know my new baby". Two days of care, is that too much to ask for? With Jack I went into the hospital thinking, I'm going to go as long as I can, and then I'll get the epidural if I need it. I was dilated to 5 when we got there. The nurse asked if I wanted an epidural. I said "let's wait and see". The next contraction I had knocked my lights out, and I said "ok, I see. Let's do this thing". 


So what am I saying. To all you expecting mommies out there, it's your body, your baby, your birth, your choice. Anyone who tries to make you feel otherwise is a jackass. 


But PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, if you must be naked while laboring (which is also fine by me) for the love of all that is holy, don't wear black socks. 



Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Quantum Leap


The nesting phase of my pregnancy is over. I can barely look at my sewing machine or go into my office without thinking "look at all that crap, so much work, I need a nap" and then I eat 17 portions of something, and fall asleep. I'm like a narcoleptic obese person. But also cranky, and sometimes I cry for no reason.  

I've moved on to the anxiety, work dream, phase of my pregnancy. A few nights ago, I dreamt my agent called me at 3am to see if I could make an audition in Santa Monica by 5am, and oh there were lots of sides, and I had to be in camera ready hair and make-up. 


Last night I had a dream that I was in a sketch on SNL with Jason Sudeikis and Bill Hader. It was something about being at an airport, and Jason Sudeikis was playing the ticket agent and Bill Hader was my boyfriend. Except I didn't know my lines. It was like I had been dropped into the sketch Quantum Leap style, and I had no idea what was going. I knew I was on SNL, but you know, nothing else. But I was like "IMPROV! I CAN DO THIS!" So I just started making stuff up, and the audience was laughing, and Jason Sudeikis kept breaking, which made Bill Hader break, and I thought everything was going pretty well, until Hader turned to me and said under his breath "Lorne is totally going to fire your ass the minute this sketch is over" Noooooooooo!




Then we were in the dressing rooms, which for some reason were like fancy horse stables. I was trying to take pictures of all the girl cast members because they are my heros, but they were all just giving me sad "girl, you are about to get canned" faces. 


Then I woke up, peed, and spent the rest of the night going through every labor and delivery scenario available to my subconscious. My favorite ones being where I don't give birth in the back of the prius in rush hour traffic. 



Saturday, April 9, 2011

Bossypants


I have been reading the most grim books lately. I don't know what's come over me. I can barely watch the news, and yet I've been reading grisly murder mysteries, and a bunch of compelling but disturbing non fiction. The other night I was lying in bed when I finished The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, which is great, but I was feeling my hope for human beings slipping away and decided I needed to read something happier before I went to sleep. I went into the ibooks store and found Tina Fey's new book Bossypants. I got a sample and started reading. 


15 minutes later, I finished the sample, bought the book, and had to force myself to go to stop reading and go to sleep around 1:30am because Jack was going to be up early for school, and I was going to be wrecked. I finished it the next day after a long nap. SO GOOD. 


If you are a working mom, or a stay at home mom, or have a vagina you should read this book. Also if you don't have a vagina, but you have kids and a job, or a wife, or both, you should read this book. If you hate laughing, and think women shouldn't have jobs because they need to be home sweeping, then as Tina Fey says (I'm paraphrasing) you "can go shit in your hat". 


She talks about her background in improv, the behind the scenes stuff from SNL, what she learned from Lorne Michaels, and how she navigates working 70 hours a week on 30 Rock, while being a mom, a wife, and all around ass kicker. Did I mention she had to personally call Oprah and ask her to PLEASE come and shoot an episode of 30 Rock they already had half shot, all while planning her daughters 3rd birthday (Peter Pan themed), and doing her first performance on SNL as Sarah Palin. Ass. Kicker. 


And finally FINALLY, a wealthy, intelligent, powerful woman cops to the whole nanny/babysitter, I do all the parenting myself lie. (Gwyneth and her "first I get the kids dressed, and make them all breakfast and off to school before I go to my photo shoot"... Ok Gwynie, I'm sure your cook/nanny/housekeepers don't help you with that at all.) My favorite footnote in the book was this one:


*"I know it's bullshit that I say "babysitter" instead of nanny. What I have is a full-time nanny, and I should be roundly punished for trying to make it seem like the teenager next door comes over one night a week. But I don't like the word "nanny." It gives me class anxiety and race anxiety. And that is why I will henceforth refer to our nanny as our Coordinator of Toddlery. "


AMEN! I would now like to apologize for referring to Brenda as Jack's babysitter. Until he started school he was with her 25 hours a week. She was, and still is, indispensable to us. She comes during the week on Jack's non-school days, and takes him to the park or a museum, for walks. He loves her, and a lot of times when she's here, I am too. She allows me to pay bills, take a nap, blog, finish one of my 10,000 projects. Jack can come and get hugs, and most of the time Brenda and I end up gossiping while he says things like "ugh, what are you guys talking about?!?!?!?!" I usually say "feelings" or "jesus" and he goes back to playing. 


So... Having read Bossypants, I now love Tina Fey, even more than I already did. She's smart, funny, and has a tremendous ability to navigate a business that I have only succeeded on the fringe of. (dangle) Read it today, or you can go shit in your hat...