Have a Nice Day!

There was a time, from maybe 1989 through the early '90s, when I did stand-up comedy. While I never made it big, I did enjoy doing it during those four years and change.

I'd worked at a local hospital, doing a temporary, part-time job, working weekend nights, where a couple of my coworkers mentioned I should do stand-up comedy. When a local coffee house opened up, after I'd left the job, I decided to give it a try. Every Saturday night, for 15 minutes, sometimes a little longer (if the next act wasn't quite ready), I honed my craft. The first few times, I only got an occasional polite laugh; it took a while before I was comfortable enough to actually be able to be elicit real laughs.

While it might've been tempting to simply come up with a string of jokes ("What did one traffic light say to the other traffic light?" "Stop looking! I'm changing!"), I opted to go with real life stuff. And why not? I was going through a divorce (okay, it was early in the divorce) and raising four kids. Anyone who's ever been married and/or had kids knows that there are times when things can be downright funny, in a weird way.

After I'd been doing stand-up at CAMS (the name of the coffee house in Pinellas Park, Fla.) for a while, I branched out to a couple of other places, though not too often. But no matter the venue, it felt good getting laughs while telling about the craziness of life.

So, for old times' sake, here's one of the segments I did, both at CAMS and a couple of other places. I'm updating it a little, but not much, and deleting a little.

So, I'm thinking about getting a dog to replace our old dog who died...15 years ago. Osha wasn't quite the dog I'd planned to get. I'd had my heart set on getting a DOG, one that was big enough that if anyone was stupid enough to break into our house, would use a massive paw to push that person onto a chair, use another massive paw to push the phone over to that person, then demand that he or she call 9-1-1 to get the police to pick up his sorry butt. And if that call wasn't made fast enough, that dog would then stand up and insist, "I mean now."

Instead, we ended up with Osha, a silly Cocker Spaniel pup, the runt of the litter.

I should've known we were getting her when a friend whose dog had had pups called up. "How about bringing the kids over? We can hang out for a couple of hours." It was only after we got there that I discovered there was one pup who hadn't been claimed.

That evening, when my other-half came home from work, I told him I was planning to get a dog for the kids. His immediate response was, "You bring that dog home, I'll pack up and move out within 24 hours!"

The dog was in the house the next day. Took the man two years to get the hint.

But that's beside the point. I discovered things about dogs, one of which is that they hate when you blow in their face. But take 'em for a car ride, and immediately, their head is out the window, getting wind in their face.

Kind-of reminds me of my friend, Sue. When we'd go out, I had to drive, as she'd always have her head out the window, especially at the beach. "Look at that guy! Looklooklook! Ooooh...wooow!" But blow in her face, she'd go nuts!

Of course, we all have things that work our last nerves. One of my pet peeves is the phrase Have a nice day!

Picture this: You're at work, near the end of your shift. You're going out that evening with your better-half for your 20th anniversary...until he calls to inform you he's leaving your for his very young, very rich, very good-looking, very male secretary (and you think you know someone!).

So you head home, and there, in your front yard, are several news crews from the major networks, and different news shows - 20/20, 48 hours, 60 minutes, Dateline - and you're sure Geraldo Rivera is skulking around somewhere. Something about your son being the U.S. connection for some major drug cartel.

You manage to get inside to find the phone ringing, only to find equally interesting news from your daughter.

So you sneak out the back door to avoid the news crews, head to the store, and pick up some basic comfort food: a container of hot mac and cheese from the deli, a double batch of brownies from the bakery, two gallons-worth of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia, and a friendly bottle of alcohol...only to have the cashier tell you to have a nice day. Yeah, you have a nice day, see how you like it!

Another thing that bugs me is asking to borrow my car. There's a reason behind this.

Now, keep in mind that I don't have any medical problem that'll cause my demise in any two-hour period of time.

So, my oldest son borrowed my car so he and his girlfriend (we'll call her Denise) could go to a friend's birthday party.

Two hours later, son called up. The conversation went as follows:

SON: Hi, Mom, how are you?

ME: Fine. How are you?

SON: I'm fine.

ME: How's Denise?

SON: She's fine.

ME: How's my car?

SON: Denise and I are fine.

ME: How bad's the car?

SON: The cop says it's totaled...(At this point, there's a metal-on-metal noise from hell in the background). And the wrecker is hooking up to the car...(and then there was a slight pause, before he added) But, Mom, I want you to know that the palm tree is doing just fine...

Turns out, a car full of tourists was in the center lane. The driver did one of those infamous "Oooh, look at that house, Ethel," where he points at said house...and the car drifts the way his arm is pointing, running my son, his girlfriend, and our full-size station wagon into said tree. That driver later told me (after the cop brought him back to the scene and I'd caught a ride there), "I'm sorry, I just didn't see the car."

I had no idea Ford was building Stealth cars...

Well, the man's insurance did pay for me to get another car. Sure, it was a used car, but it's nice enough. Four doors, six cylinders, comfortable-enough ride.

So, I headed over to show Sue, who, to my chagrin, just got a brand new Corvette. Bright blue. V8 engine.

But my car's all paid for.

She has a Corvette.

But mine has decent gas mileage...

Did I mention the 'Vette?

Suddenly, it hit me...I could've had a V8!

About a block from Sue's place my car sputtered to a stop. Sure, the gas gauge was on 'E', but in my defense, my previous two cars had none-functioning gas gauges that always read E. We just had to make sure to top 'em off periodically.

I walked the last block to her house, and her husband offered to take me to get gas for my car.

As he looked for his keys, Sue informed me, "That's just like you to run out of gas! By the way, wanna see...?" (Yeah, you guessed it...the 'Vette.)

By now, her husband was ready to bring me on the gas run, so I turned to Sue, blew in her face, and told her to have a nice day.