Poodle Bear

Picture this:

Sunday Night.  A bar in downtown Manhattan with an upper level cabaret space.  A checkered stage.  A dimly lit room. The amazing Parodivas. Several of my best friends. Knight in a leopard corset dress with microphone in hand.

Didn’t anybody take a picture? No? WTF?

Well anyway, The Parodivas premiered their brand new monthly Show and invited ME to headline.

Look how hot they are despite being cold and homeless.

I did a dead diva tribute by singing some Amy Winehouse and Etta James. I don’t think they would mind. I also did the Jessica Rabbit version of Why don’t you do right and used it as an excuse to molest the audience. 

Up until I actually got on the stage I was having some serious anxiety issues. Singing with tracks instead of a live instrument is really f’ing scary. The Parodivas do it with ease but I was fairly sure I was about to humiliate myself by forgetting the lyrics and not being able to bullshit my way back out. Luckily it appears my bullshitting skills are fully intact and everything went well. 

After my set I could calm down and enjoy the last ten minutes of the show as the Parodivas performed one of their ever popular audience participation MadLib Parodies. Before I left the stage they asked me for a pet name. Not the kind you would give a pet but something disturbing a lover might say to you. I gave them the most embarrassing pet name I could recall being called. We then listened to My Poodle Bear sung to the tune of My Endless Love. *VOMITS ON SELF*

It was a pretty fantastic night. I was incredibly surprised and flattered by the friends that showed up to support us.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot to mention that Oprah was somehow haunting the show. Don’t mention or mock her onstage unless you want some serious sound issues to start up. We are sorry Oprah! Please don’t send Tom Cruise to eat us.

Long Weekend of Sleep

Friday afternoon I was stuck at my boss’ new townhouse where they recently kicked out squatters. I was advising a cleaner on what needed to be done in this absolute filth hole. I did a little sweeping and such myself in order to not waste time. It was disgusting. I will never be clean again. One of the prior occupants is a crazy bastard who spent a long time on the phone with me. He told me women are only good for cooking and giving birth. I told him he was an idiot and if he had any women in his life that allowed him to act that way they were idiots too.  He asked me out to coffee. I hope to God I never have to meet him in person.

Friday night I went to a fancy fondue party. Delicious! One of my friends brought back a variety of delicious rums from Dominica.  Mine was cinnamon and I swear to you it tasted just like Red Hot Candies! That night I had a pretty bad seizure. I’m sure it had something to do with fucking around in that disgusting house full of pesticides earlier in the day but at least at this time I was with someone I trust and love.  I tried to sleep it off all Saturday morning. I went to brunch at 1 but still felt like crap. I ended up back at another friend’s place where I fell right back asleep with her cat in my lap. The cat love made my face swell up and my eyes turned bright red. Sexy. So I went home and passed out at 8:30pm.  I didn’t get up until 2pm the next day. So I went to my bar where I watched the Giants beat the Packers. That sucked. I also discovered one of the bartenders there is quite the douche-canoe and will not be privy to my conversation ever again.Cross me once and you get daggers for life.

After the game I had a fairly mild night which was followed by another 13 hours of sleeping. I had dreams about making tacos so I woke up and… made tacos. This taco making process of my dreams made the whole weekend worthwhile. I really love tacos.

So now it’s Monday morning. I’m back at work. I’m still really sore from the damn seizure. I’m pissed off. I’m pissed that my body is so damn weak that it feels the need to go into a dangerous fit that takes me days to recover. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I stop it? Why don’t we know the real cause? When will I ever be able to emotionally handle this crap? Can’t the lesson just be learned and then we can move on?

I’m going back to bed.

Minneapolis - A Business Trip

I was alone in Minneapolis.  Earlier that day I had flown into this frozen-over city for a brief business trip.  I was having a two night stand with the city and other than being chilled to the core I was enjoying myself.

 After the sun set I decided to venture out of my hotel room and explore.  I didn’t know my way around at all but with my innate abilities to find an eventful good time it was only minutes before I saw the electric light of a JAZZ sign hanging off of a building.  I descended the stairs into the dimly lit bar room of a steak house. The place wasn’t very busy but a band was about to start so I sat at a table in a dim corner and ordered a glass of cabernet. A southern blues-soul sound began to fill the room. The lead had a perfect sort of rough sound to his voice that matched his sexy scruffy exterior. My senses were overwhelmed.  I couldn’t keep my eyes off the band. The sound of the piano bounced off the walls and filled me with sheer elation. I stayed for hours until their gig was over.

The next night I went back. How could I not? This time I sat up at the bar and drank meaty red wines while smiling slyly at the singer who was definitely making eyes at me. The air was full of electricity. I wasn’t sure if I was so drawn to him because he was ridiculously handsome or because the music was a siren song. In retrospect perhaps it was the wine making a delicious blend of the two.

After the set he met me at the bar with the rest of the band. We flirted and had a few laughs. Conversation was easy. We went well together. When the bar closed we wandered to another in order to prolong our meeting.  Our hands were entwined. Toward the end of the night I found myself in his car as he gave me a ride back to my hotel so I wouldn’t have to endure the chill. Our discussion turned to something personal and intense regarding a recent divorce and your soul aching. It led to a very passionate kiss. He cupped my cold face with his hands and said I had to be some sort of angel. I had appeared at the perfect moment. His sparkling eyes locked in on mine as we kissed again. Then we said goodbye. I flew home to New York a few hours later.

We never saw each other again.

Grandma Knight

Grandma Knight passed away in the early hours of last Saturday morning. She had a heart attack and was taken to the hospital on Christmas day. I feel lucky that I was in my hometown at the time and able to visit her in the hospital before and after her angiogram. On my last visit before heading back to New York I thought she seemed just as lovely and ornery as ever so I wasn’t worried. We had the chance to say I love you one last time.

They held her funeral this morning. I feel terribly guilty that I’m not able to be there to support my family and pay my respects. My mom called me a half hour ago to tell me how great her hair looked with pearl combs just as she would have wanted. She was known for her hair and very proud of it. Mom told me how well everything went and that my dad and grandfather seem to be doing well. My poor father happened to be witness to the heart attack at the nursing home on Friday night that eventually led to her passing. He had to make the decisions. That must have been so awful for him.

My Grandfather is 93 years old. He was a WWII pilot that was shot out of the sky and became a POW. Somehow he lived to be the strongest 93 year old I’ve ever seen. Watching him at the hospital after my grandmother’s angiogram was one of the most heartbreaking moments I have ever witnessed. He told me he stayed up the entire night prior rubbing her back and trying to ease the pain. He couldn’t stand to see her like that. It was pure dedication and love for a person you spent the last 64 years by the side of.

So I sit here at work thinking about my family all together talking about my grandmother and how wonderful she was to all of us. I’m lucky to have such a fantastic and loving family. Sure some of them are crazy but so am I. It’s still in a loving way. Grandma was so supportive of every one of her six grandkids. We were all busy with various activities. All the boys participated at every sport available to them. I was the little singer in the family and grandma swears I got that from her. They were not only at every game/ performance/ recital possible but they also took us to practice whenever needed. I remember when I was little they lived in a house very near ours. We were dropped off before school and every morning she would make us coco with marshmallows and peanut butter toast. They were drowning in pictures of all of us. Grandma was convinced that every last one of her offspring was gorgeous. We are by the way ;)  Just like her.

I have no idea how old I was but at some point when I was still very young I had a raspberry colored pea coat. From then on I was her Raspberry Princess. Nicknames stuck for a lifetime with that side of my family. Don’t you dare call me that though. Only Grandma Knight had that privilege.

Last year for my mother’s 49^th birthday my Grandmother on my mom’s side of the family decided to throw her a party and as entertainment flew me in to sing for a few hours. I know it was partly because she didn’t think my other grandparents would have many other chances to ever hear me again. I have to remember to thank her again for that. I know it meant a lot to them because my Grandma was so proud of me and I felt so guilty for never recording something to send her. 

I wish I could be with them.

I’m thinking of you Grandma. Thank you for everything.