BY CANDY PARKER

If asked to describe comedian Suzanne Westenhoefer in just one word, some may go with “ground-breaking.” This would, of course, be accurate. After all, Westenhoefer was the first openly lesbian comic to host her own HBO Comedy Special (1994) and to appear on the “Late Show with David Letterman” (2003). But that one word could never do her justice.

Self-deprecating. Raw. Hilarious. Legendary. Unpredictable. Candid. (That last one is by her own admission — I found it on her website.) All these and more could also be used to describe Westenhoefer, who is brazenly honest, outspoken and spontaneous in her comedy.

Westenhoefer began her stand-up career on a dare and she carries that same risk-taking attitude with her every time she takes the stage. With countless hours of material honed over a  career spanning more than two decades and a penchant for spilling the beans about whatever is currently happening in her life at the moment, Westenhoefer offers up a unique comedy set adventure every time she takes the stage.

Westenhoefer will soon be appearing with fellow veteran comic Jennie McNulty at two benefit performances for the United Church of Christ Coalition for LGBT Concerns. The first performance will be Saturday, May 17, at First Congregational Church of Berkeley, California. Tickets are available through www.brownpapertickets.com. The second show will be held Sunday, May 18, at Peace United Church of Christ in Santa Cruz, California. Tickets can be purchased at www.ticketriver.com. VIP tickets are available at each event and include a meet and greet with both comedians and priority seating.

I managed to catch up with Westenhoefer long enough to get her to answer our Fast 5 questions this week.

1. What are you most looking forward to in 2014?

Touring with Miley Cyrus. It’s not official yet, but a girl can dream.

2. Phone call or text?

Please, I beg you, text!

3. What would be your best piece of relationship advice?

Each partner should have full access to the other person’s phone, email, Twitter, Instagram and Facebook accounts. (We’re pretty sure there’s a great story behind Westenhoefer’s answer on this one, but we maintain a strict five-question policy, so there was no chance for follow up.)

4. What’s the last movie you went to the theater to see?

“Despicable Me 2” with one million toddlers.

5. If you could have one super power, what would you want it to be and why?

To fly, both for the fun of it and to give the big finger to the airlines that rule my life.

Be sure to check out Westenhoefer’s website and follow her on Facebook and Twitter.

The post Fast 5 with comedian Suzanne Westenhoefer first appeared on Lesbian.com.

You know Weinstien and Spacey, and Louis and Tambor,
Lauer and Charlie, and Franken and Roy Moore
But do you recall,
The most harmful predator of all?

Donald the groping gasbag
Had some really tiny hands,
For those that had to feel them,
Jail should be the place he’d land.

All of the media perverts
Had to quit and lost careers;
Meanwhile, the sleaze ball Donald
Screws us like a racketeer.

Then one foggy Christmas eve,
Mueller came to say:
“Donald all your lies and fraud
Make your case severely flawed.”
Then all his buddies made deals,
They began to cop a plea,
Donald the gas bag groper
Enjoy the penitentiary.

Jennie McNulty was named one of Curve magazine’s Top 10 lesbian comedians.

The post A new take on ‘Rudolph:’ Donald the groping gasbag first appeared on Lesbian.com.

I am a stand-up comedian. I also host a show called, “Walking Funny.” I interview people while we take a walk and encourage the viewer/listener to walk along with us. I have a degree in exercise science and I have always loved sports and activity. I’m trying to encourage people to start walking, get moving and get themselves feeling better.

I’m currently visiting my mother in Florida and the other night I headed down to a nearby comedy club to see the club owner whom I thought might want to do a walk with me.  He was one of the first guys to book me many years ago when I was starting out and I frequently work at his club.  I saw on the website that there were a couple of guys performing at the club that night that were, well, let’s just say, on the opposite end of my political spectrum. But I also saw on the club’s website a video of one of them who seemed like he might actually be open to a “What can we do to come together?” walk. He seemed somewhat reasonable and I do have some Republican friends so I thought it might actually be an interesting or enlightening chat. Family engagements made me miss the beginning of the show, but I knew I could still catch some of it if I hurried to get there.
 
Well, unfortunately, the club owner was out of the country on vacation and not available. But I went in to catch the end of the show, anyway. The headliner was onstage (I missed the guy I thought I might want to walk with) and, while I’d never met this dude before, I’d seen him on the flyers of clubs I was working in many years ago when he was headlining and I was just starting out. He was super-Southern, I didn’t remember him as being billed that way. But, again, I’d never worked with him so I looked at his Facebook page to see if it was the same guy… AND, FOR THE RECORD, I was in the back of the room and stepped around the corner to do that. You know, we can see you from the stage when you’re on your phones in comedy clubs. The room is dark and your giant smartphones illuminate your whole damn head.  Don’t think we don’t think we don’t know! Anyway…

I found his Facebook page and it was filled with hate. Typical alt-right bullshit that infuriated me as I read. Then I watched a room full of people laughing at his “Walmart shoppers are ugly” brilliance and irrationally became angry with them, too. I stood there getting madder, festering like a bite from a poisonous insect. My anger just kept building up and I had to leave. I saw the other dude on the way out and thought I probably should ask him about the walk but I couldn’t. I just needed to get out of there.

I really, truly went there with the intent of trying to come together — to come to some level of understanding. Some Pollyanna goal of mending fences and building bridges and all I could think of was I wanted cram the microphone into this idiot’s mouth just to shut him up or just make him go away — leave the country that he’s trying to ruin but just stop f**cking talking!

Holy sh*t, dear readers, how do we get over this? I consider myself a fairly open-minded person and I just couldn’t deal with that dude. This political climate has made us all edgy and socially frail. Innocent people are dying and no one — myself, apparently, included — is willing to listen to the other side. Although, in my defense, “toothless Walmart shopper” material isn’t that interesting. But, seriously, where do we go from here?

I saw horrific posts about Heather Heyer from “their” side. And, I’ve certainly posted enough negativity about the dude that lives in the White House. But, how do we come together? I’ve seen “love trumps hate.” And, I do believe that. I really do. But, if I can’t even come to “love” someone who’s telling jokes, who can we love?

One of the things I learned in college was that one of the many benefits of exercise was stress reduction. You really do feel better when you exercise — endorphins and all that stuff. But, I’m thinking, in these times, they need to bump up that step prescription. Today, 10,000 steps will no longer do the trick. We’re gonna need 10 million steps a day. Or, at least, and perhaps, most importantly, those first 10 steps that enable you to walk away from a confrontation until you can be logical.

Jennie McNulty was named one of Curve magazine’s Top 10 lesbian comedians.

The post Can comedy bridge the political divide? first appeared on Lesbian.com.

Happy New Year! My editor asked me to do a “2016 Year in Review” piece. It sounded like a good idea. So, I sat down at my computer. Then, when I finished crying, I’d summed it up thusly: A crazy number of amazing people died, we elected an idiot and the Lions lost the division — again. OK, new idea. How about a “Year in Preview?” Better, but maybe too scary.

I’ve heard a lot of people say they’re really worried about what’s next. Are you afraid of this New Year? Does any day after January 19 scare you? Fear not, my friends. Here are a few simple solutions to ease your trepidation.

Solution No. 1: Become a bigot
The bigots are in fine form and feelin’ swell. I believe “swell” was the correct superlative when it was last OK to say the things they’re saying now. The prejudiced have been persecuted, man! They’ve had to suffer. They’ve had to bottle up all those comments that political correctness wouldn’t allow since the 90s. Oh, sure, deep down they knew the correctness wasn’t just political or they wouldn’t have stifled it. But, now, oh boy now! Now, they can say what they really think. Just like the next President! They are in heaven. They have found their joy. Why not join that? Who says ignorance is bliss?

P.S. You will be hearing a lot of “blissful” talk in the immediate future. From surprising people you never thought were blissful. I am sorry, for all of us. But listen to it (not to all of it) and remember who said what.

Solution No. 2: Become a Russian
OK, so bigotry is not for you? Well then, here’s Solution No. 2 for your New Year’s worries: Get Russian citizenship. The accent is not that hard and you’ll seem like you’ve got connections. Change your name to Vlad and score lots of sweet financial deals. Besides, hockey is fun to watch, vodka is delicious, and I’m sure you’ll still be able to vote here.

P.S. You might want to be careful about what you put in your email correspondence.

Solution No. 3: Drugs
The 3rd Solution is in no way an endorsement. I do not suggest you attempt Solution No. 3. I am merely pointing out that it exists. There, am I clear? Okay, solution No. 3: drugs. Lots of ‘em. Chased with hard liquor (again, joke, not real suggestion). However, the DC Cannabis Coalition really is handing out free joints on inauguration day. Seriously, this is not a joke. They are handing out free 4,200 joints. And they intend for those joints to be lit at 4 minutes and 20 seconds into Trump’s speech as a protest to get cannabis legalized at the federal level. Probably the only way the rest of that Inaugural address will make any sense.

P.S. If you’re at the inauguration, don’t really light that joint at 4:20 into his speech. It’s still illegal to smoke it on public property. And, Jeff Sessions will be there to personally arrest you. If you’re at home watching, fire up!

Solution No. 4: Pray (mostly for Ruth Bader Ginsberg’s health)
Finally, if bigoted Russian stoners aren’t enough to assuage your fears, well there’s always Solution No. 4: prayer. I don’t necessarily mean that in a religious context. But, if praying to one Virgin or 73 works for you, go for it. Can’t hurt. Personally, I send my prayers out to the universe, to that energetic source that has no stake in our game and makes no judgments. It just is. And like any force, the more mass that goes into it, the stronger it becomes. I honestly believe it helps.

And, my “prayers” right now are focused on one thing: the health and stamina of Ruth Bader Ginsberg. Seriously. I keep saying that at my shows lately and people always laugh — good for my line of work but, in this case, I’m serious. This election’s bottom line for both sides was the Supreme Court. Think about that tonight before you go to sleep and send out good thoughts for the notorious RBG. And, again, I’m serious.

P.S. You may have weird dreams about people in funny robes chasing you yelling “overruled” and trying to make you do jury duty.

I was at a party on election night. Well, it started as a party and ended up more like a wake. There was a lovely lesbian couple there with a beautiful brand new baby. As those final results came in, I leaned in close and said to the baby, “I’m so sorry we just ruined your future.” We laughed (well, the kid didn’t). Then the baby’s mother said to me, “God, I hope they don’t take him away now.” And this was in Los Angeles. I can’t even imagine the fears some people in some parts of the country are experiencing now.

So now, more than ever, if you can speak up against injustice, do so. And do it loudly. Those Neandertrumps out there will be emboldened. They’ll be spewing all sorts of hate in the name of freedom and the new, “good ole American way.” And, they’ll have that same “look at my big balls” strut that my cat gets when he knocks something over to get attention (I like to call it his “Phantom Ball Walk”). Unfortunately, we can’t just lock those ball-less bigots in the spare room. We gotta keep an eye on ‘em. We have to hold them accountable for their words and actions.

Pay attention. Speak up against injustice. And, speak loudly. Many voices will be scared into silence, speak up for them if you can. Shout out for them. Scream so the whole country can hear. At least, over here on the West Coast we have the jet stream to carry the voices. Those on the East Coast will really have to yell. But we can do it. Look at the cacophony one blustery New Yorker has created.

Jennie McNulty was named one of Curve magazine’s Top 10 lesbian comedians.

The post 2017: Four ways to survive the year ahead first appeared on Lesbian.com.

Here is why we have not been visited by aliens. Not because they don’t exist, of course they do. But, to quote the old SNL “Wayne’s World” duo, we’re not worthy.

Let’s say you’re from another planet and seeking intelligent life forms. Obviously, you’ve figured out space travel. You’ve either got really fast transport devices or have nailed the whole suspended animation thing. You are, as they said on Star Trek, “boldly going…” You love to study and learn. You love what we call science.

Or, perhaps, you’re looking for a new place to live and, if earth doesn’t meet your metabolic criteria, you fly over. But if it does, you hover and check us out. And, after a few circumnavigations, your computers decipher our languages and you can see just what this rock is all about.

Our alien pals see war and terrorism. Perhaps, it’s why they left their own digs. Perhaps, it seems to them a rather confusing aspect of evolution that hasn’t yet been weaned out. Or, perhaps they think it’s a really, extra-violent, group version of MMA fighting.

They see gender inequalities and must wonder why this whole planet does not worship, much less treat unfairly, the half that continues the species. Maybe they think the female, is just being kind to the plodding, less complicated other half. Or maybe even in space, everyone blames their mother for their issues.

Then they focus on one of the more developed of areas on this planet — our good ole U. S. of A and investigate. They see the Kardashians and reality TV and have to circle us twice more, never really figuring that one out. They look at our current election debates, speeches and proclamations and wonder why one side seems to be taking it so much more seriously than the other. And then they learn about our “Bathroom Bills…”

CUT TO: Interior Spaceship Hovering Earth
(Translated for your convenience)

Alien 1: So, the ozone layer protecting them is depleting, the essential fluid covering 70 percent of their planet is becoming poisoned, corruption amongst their leaders is rampant and they’re worried about who goes in what room to eliminate their waste?

Alien 2: Yep, apparently, they are scared.

Alien 1: Of what?

Alien 2: Not sure, some sort of spontaneous attack.

Alien 1: Why there? Why then? Other than elimination, don’t they usually just read or do their — what do they call it, ‘Faceblocking’ while they’re in there?

Alien 2: Either that or Instagriming but, yes, that’s the place where some think they will be in immediate danger.

Alien 1: From what?

Alien 2: From what the indigenous species of this planet called “Two Spirits.” Not even a huge portion of the population either, but they’ve been around forever.

Alien 1: Is there some sort of precedent for this projected assailment?

Alien 2: No, but they seem to be an easily distracted group. They don’t waste much time on evidence for their conclusions.

Alien 1: Well, if their response to that orange blowhard with the bad head fur is any indication, I think we could probably land here and just take over fairly easily.

Alien 2: True, but is it worth it? We’d have to work soooo hard to get these creatures up to speed. And, I’m not sure we’d even have enough time. In a few billion years, their sun becomes a red giant, their oceans boil and we’d have to leave again. This planet is just not worth flipping. Let’s move on.

Alien 1: I guess. But it’s just so cute here — wouldn’t take much of a remodel at all.

Alien 2: I know but, despite what the space Realtors tell you, it’s not simply “location.” You have to consider all aspects of the location, like the other residents of the neighborhood. This village is full of idiots.

Alien 1: I guess, you’re right but I still don’t get the bathroom thing.

Alien 2: Agreed, it’s completely illogical. They have real brain glitches regarding their waste. They build themselves little private rooms with locks for this universal activity, like they’re hiding it. And then they carry around canine feces in a bag.

Alien 1: Ha! I know. But I still don’t get why they think they are at risk, just what is it they think will happen?

Alien 2: Maybe they’re afraid someone might make them think.

Alien 1: Must be why the females go in pairs.

Alien 2: Hmmm, could be.

Alien 1: Yeah, but they sure could used our technology for harnessing all that solar power being shot at them.

Alien 2: They have it. They just prefer to use oil, coal and gas despite the harmful by-products they release. It’s killin’ ‘em, actually. I told you they make no sense.

Alien 1: That could explain the bathroom thing …

Jennie McNulty was named one of Curve magazine’s Top 10 lesbian comedians.

The post Why aliens give our planet a fly by first appeared on Lesbian.com.

Backspace, backspace, backspace. But, come on, there’s always such good stuff there—hangovers, blackouts, “Erin go Bra-less!” Nevertheless, she has a point. With all the idiocy of these elections, people are very racially sensitive. I probably shouldn’t make blanket statements that could be considered derogatory, even if it is my own ethnicity.

You know, a T-shirt picturing 3 drunken people passed out on the floor with empty beer mugs around them labeled, “Irish Yoga,” is funny to me. I guess it just brings out my Zen. But, it is a stereotype that probably unfairly hurt a few of my own relatives in the past (even if it described a few others).

Undoubtedly, the Irish have brought great things to the world. Oscar Wilde, George Bernard Shaw, and many other creative artists were Irish. Henry Ford was the son of Irish immigrants. And the Irish have some wonderfully positive and uplifting words of wisdom passed down through the ages like:
“May your glass be ever full.
May the roof over your head be always strong.
And, may you be in heaven a half an hour
Before the devil knows you’re dead;”

Or more practical:
“May those who love us love us.
And those that don’t love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And, if He doesn’t turn their hearts,
May he turn their ankles so we’ll know them by their limping.”

Or Jonathan Swift’s simple, “May you live all the days of your life.”

We are more than just a collection of drunkards in an ale house. But what’s more humorous beautiful poetry, a way of manufacturing that revolutionized a country or a drunken leprechaun in green suit that talks funny? I’m pickin’ the drinkin’ over the assembly line. Alas, these are touchy times.

We are sensitive now. Extremely frightening things are going on in the world outside of the U.S. and inside our boarders, even more so. The political climate is so highly charged and people are very defensive. And with good reason — the person consistently winning in the primaries right now has perfected every “ism” we have and is being lauded for it.

The first example that every Trumpeteer gives for why they like him is, “He says what we want to say but can’t.” Personally, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to say anything he’s said. Well, I take that back. There is one thing I’d like to quote him on. To him, in fact: “You’re fired.”

But he’s winning right now because he’s appealing to the frustrated white masses. Some probably really are racist or sexist or homophobic, others have just lost patience with political correctness and have been fed enough misleading sound bites that they can’t tell facts from opinions and don’t even see reality anymore. I’m not making excuses for them. I’m saying no one is really listening. So should it be surprising that people don’t feel heard?

Ya gotta hand it to Trump though, he didn’t just complain about political correctness, he made himself the Anti-PC poster boy. He said stuff so outrageous we all laughed. The way you laugh at a senile relative who just loudly blurted out something wildly inappropriate at dinner. Trump said the other day that he’s responsible for bringing more people out to the polls. That could be true but it just made me picture a scene from “The Walking Dead” — brain dead herds shuffling to the polls in red ballcaps that say “Make America Taste Great Again.”

All this tension has made people frustrated and angry. People are attacking each other. Things we used to be able to laugh about before just aren’t funny anymore. We need to step back, breathe deeply, relax and listen to one another. Have a little empathy. We are all just trying to live all the days of our lives and make it to heaven before the devil knows we’re dead.

So, I’m gonna wear my shamrock shirt and raise a glass of green beer or two or three and probably be speaking in a really bad Irish brogue by the end of the night (that won’t sound that bad to me, of course). Why? Because, it’s fun. It’s an excuse for a party to which we’re all invited. Everybody’s Irish on St. Patrick’s Day. Feel the magic. Believe in fairies and leprechauns. Look at that stranger in the bar who’s different from you and tell him you hope is glass is ever full. And try to mean it. And, most importantly, have fun. No one knows how to have fun like the Irish. You know what they say, “When Irish eyes are smilin’…They’re up to something.”

And, by the way, in case you’re wondering why the folks on the Emerald Isle were dry until 1970, it’s because St. Patrick’s Day was a Holy Day. The, uh, feast of St. Patrick, dontcha know. Erin go Bragh!

Jennie McNulty has traveled the world doing comedy from colleges to cruise ships to military bases in Iraq. She was named one of Curve Magazine’s Top 10 lesbian comedians and also teaches stand up and comedy writing. Learn more at JennieMcNulty.com.

The post Fighting Irish stereotypes one beer at a time first appeared on Lesbian.com.

Friday, February 26, is National “Tell a Fairy Tale Day.” So, in honor of this most revered of holidays, here it is, a fairy tale just for you — and a cautionary tale if ever there were one.

An Elephant Feary Tale

There once was a land of great beauty and plenty. It was filled with every flora and fauna. All things of both thought and deed were possible. The people of the land, having left tyranny and persecution in their former hamlets, created a new system in this new land. They made new rules and gave themselves new freedoms. No longer would they be told how to think or feel. Now, they decided things amongst themselves freely and fairly.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure, they raped and pillaged the original inhabitants who cherished and protected this beautiful expanse. And, yeah, they stole this land and cheated and slaughtered its people, but this is a fairy tale, sometimes ya gotta leave out actual details. And, don’t worry, I’ll get back to them.

The people worked together in their towns and villages. They learned together too and great achievements were made. Every son and daughter strived to learn more and accomplish more than their parents did. Everyone prospered. Little houses were built on little prairies. Soon, this land became known by all the world as the BEST land – a land of the free, a land of the brave.

As time went on, the villagers no longer cared as much about discovering new things. They ate fatted calves, drank much ale and created fast food and corn syrup. They no longer paid attention to their great land. They no longer strived to learn and excel with gusto. The wealth and riches, once available to anyone willing to toil, were soon gobbled up by a few shady characters like a tiny forest squirrel gathering nuts for the winter.

But the villagers paid no heed. They ate from the apple of this land, not realizing, its soil had become tainted. A great sleepy condition did overtake the citizenry such that, while harmful edicts, misdeeds and skullduggery transpired, the people shared pictures of their lunch.

Then along came a parade of elephants. Wise elephants, who saw the sleepy people and knew what to do. “We shall use fear,” said the elephants. “We will win control over the kingdom. These sleepy sheep shall beg for our protection and do our bidding like a reed bows to a great wind(bag),” the giants proclaimed. “We shall first tell them, that certain unions of peoples shall destroy the land and bring about the wrath of God and the ruination of their own unions -and they shall listen.” And, they did. “Then we shall tell a tale so tall, so filled with deadly imagery and lies that they cannot but choose to let us lead them still.” And, they did.

The villagers far and near were fearful – as the elephants had hoped. But, as time went on, they became angry. The townsfolk became weary of the elephant and looked instead to the donkey. A new donkey, one filled with hope and change, not like the other asses. And the donkey spent 7 years picking up pachyderm poop while the still sleepy people paid only as much attention as could be focused in 15 seconds or less.

When the time came to choose their next leader, another parade of elephants stomped forward armed, as always, with their portent of panic. But there came an even larger harbinger of doom. One created from their own message of dismay and intimidation. One who saw what the old elephants did and amplified it with his own giant trunk of terror. This goliath, who was really both an elephant and a giant ass, had a hide of orange and wild tuft of fur upon his head so distracting it brought forth gales of laughter from all who saw it. But, laughter could not stop this elephant. He ignored it and only Trumpeted louder.

Even the other elephants became scared. Many in the parade ran away. He even scared away one with royal lineage – one so certain he was the right choice he had added an exclamation mark to his name!

“How can this be?” wondered the others. “This unruly ungulate has used our own tricks against us! He must be stopped!” But there was no stopping this monster. He took the fears and insecurities that had been planted in the masses by his predecessors and watered them like a nefarious, gardening gargoyle.

Are you scared yet? You should be. For I have no end to this tale. Not yet anyway. It might end up as horrific as your own imagination can conjure. But you can do something. You have a magic wand. You can stop this bellicose buffoon. Or, you can dodge the donkey. However you’d like to see this tale end, you need only wave your magic wand. You can take back this land from the fear mongering blowhards. Just pull that magic wand in the little booth this November.

Oh, and of those original inhabitants? Their spirits continue to haunt. In fact, if you go out to the woods and listen (hurry, they may be gone soon) you will hear them laughing at us, “Hey ‘Americans’ you might wanna pay attention – while you weren’t lookin’ Monsanto f*cked up all your maize.”

Jennie McNulty was named one of Curve magazine’s Top 10 lesbian comedians.

The post An elephant feary tale for the ages first appeared on Lesbian.com.

I had an interesting experience at my show last weekend. I come out every show. I think it’s extremely important. It may seem passé as more and more places are moving toward equality and/or providing more protections for the LGBT community. But, let’s face it; there are still a lot of places where it’s not cool to be openly gay. In some places, it’s even dangerous. So, I feel that if I can make a room full of people laugh; make them like me; make them see I’m just like them (minus the homophobia part); it might just make a difference. So I come out on stage every time, well, almost every time.

I made an exception when I performed for the US Military in Iraq and Afghanistan (among other bases) in the 2000s. I went several times. They were the most rewarding and exciting shows I’ve ever done. (Except that one that you saw – that was my favorite.) We signed contracts with clauses that indicated we were to perform relatively clean material and not be political or controversial. So I didn’t do any “gay” material at all for those shows. I didn’t change pronouns; I just didn’t say anything about relationships at all.

Occasionally, in the course of talking to the crowd, I outed myself in answering a Soldier’s playful salvo from the crowd with, “You got a sister?” And I wore more rainbow stuff than a newly out divorcee and a 5 year old kid combined. I remember distinctly a female soldier in Iraq saying to me, “I like your bracelet.” It was one of those little rubber rainbow ones you get at pride. So those two things made me feel a little less guilty – “Hey, it was in my contract. I’m normally Super Queer but, what could I do?” Was that a rationalization? Yes, probably, but I did continue to get military gigs and, thus, I became an overseas asexual. I’m sure there’s a dating app for that.

That brings me to this past weekend. I was working at a Marie Calendar’s Restaurant – don’t laugh, they’ve been doing comedy every Friday and Saturday in this little pie shop for over 18 years and it’s actually quite a good little room. It seats about 75 – 90 people; it pays okay; it’s only 35 miles outside of LA and you get a pie. How can you beat that? I was filling in for a last minute cancelation and was “featuring.” In the comedy world that’s the middle act: there’s an MC, then a feature act, then the headliner and I was the feature. A short, cushy 30 minute set where the crowd is warmed up and the pressure’s more on the last guy. And, you get a pie.

On Friday night, there was a non-profit women’s group and their husbands in attendance and I would guess the average age was about 50-something. They made up about 85% of the crowd. Any comic reading this is cringing. Big parties can sometimes be a pain in …well, you know where. The only thing worse is a bachelorette party. (And, to whatever company makes those penis straws, please stop.) But, these guys were fun. Really fun. They were there to have a good time and they did. There was a woman in the front row – I can’t remember now why, but I dubbed her “Bong Hit Betty.” She was in her 70’s and I have no idea what her real name was but, for the whole show – even for the headliner – she was Betty. By the end of the night, even her friends were saying, “Bye, Betty.” It was fun. And, did I mention the pie?

And here’s where the guilt sets in – no, not about the pie, about my set. I was having such a good time playing with Betty and her pals in the group; I was shocked when I got the light. That’s your 2 minute warning. A small stage light or flashlight or some signal that you only have 2 minutes left. And, unlike football, it really means 2 minutes. I wasn’t anywhere near done. I had only gotten to about half of what I was going to say. And, I hadn’t yet “come out.”

So, what to do? Do I stop what I was talking about and cram in something about my girlfriend? Or just blurt out, “Two guys walk into a bar – not me I’m gay.” It would have felt forced. Where I was in the set was a perfect place to wrap up. Performance-wise, I shouldn’t switch gears at the point. So I didn’t. Alas, even the pie didn’t assuage the guilt.

Why? I just gave you perfectly legitimate reasons for not coming out in that show. It was, professionally speaking, probably the better choice. It made more sense in the context of my set and made for a great finish. And I could have lived with that were it the only reason. But, I have to admit. Deep down –okay not even that deep – there was a part of me that, when that light went on and I had to make that choice, just didn’t want to. I had a feeling that I would have dropped down a notch or two in their opinion of me as a comic and person and, at that point, I was on quite a roll.

Honestly, they would have liked me just fine. They already did. Betty and I even smoked a joint afterward (I’m kidding – she did, I had to drive). Seriously, it most likely wouldn’t have affected anything. Hell, they might even have queer grandkids and bought my DVD for them. But in that moment, I just didn’t have the energy or guts or desire to do what I feel is the right thing because I didn’t want this room full of strangers who really liked me, to look at me differently. I’m not usually like that. As I said, I come out all the time. It never feels like an effort. It was just something about that night, that crowd, whatever. I don’t really know why.

Stand Up is funny. It is quite an intoxicating feeling to make a room full of people laugh and I’ve been doing it for long time now. There’s nothing like it. But, it’s not about us, the performers. We have a wonderful opportunity to say something. Technically, our job is to make you laugh and, if we do that with fart jokes or existential brilliance it doesn’t matter to those laughing. The audience just wants to laugh. But, in this game of comedy, I feel like I cheated. The ref didn’t make the interference call and I won. So, I guess I’m throwing a flag on myself – fifteen yards for unsportsmanlike conduct.

Perhaps, I should have started this, “Dear Diary,” or “Bless me readers for I have sinned.” But I shall finish it with this: I did come out on Saturday night. I had the MC bring me onstage with this intro: “Your feature act is a big old queer who’s done gay cruises and pride shows. She’s taking donations for Pflag after the show and she’s a lesbian. Please, welcome the very gay, Jennie McNulty.” Okay, no I didn’t really use that as an intro. But I did do my gay material. And, they liked me just fine, a lot in fact. And I got another pie. This time it wasn’t humble.

Jennie McNulty was named one of Curve magazine’s Top 10 lesbian comedians. She can be heard weekly as co-host of LA Talk Radio‘s “Cathy Is In: The Cathy DeBuono Show.”

The post To come out or not to come out: Is there pie? first appeared on Lesbian.com.

On January 20, 2016, history was made. The Buffalo Bills, of the National Football League announced the hire of, Kathryn Smith, making her the first, full time, female coach. Rex Ryan, the Bills head coach who made the hire, said, “Kathryn Smith has done an outstanding job in the seven years that she has worked with our staff. She certainly deserves this promotion based on her knowledge and strong commitment, just to name a few of her outstanding qualities, and I just know she’s going to do a great job serving in the role of Quality Control-Special Teams.”

“Because of her knowledge and strong commitment” — an NFL coach saying that about a woman. Seriously, it gives me chills. Go Bills! I promise to root for you in any game that doesn’t affect the Lions’ standing. Or the Giants’ (my girlfriend’s team — we need to keep the house happy on Sundays). And, I’ll admit, even with all my football experience as a lifelong fan and player, I have no idea what a “Quality Control-Special Teams” coach does. But I know I’ve spent many a Sunday yelling, “Our kicking game sucked today!” So, I’m assuming Kathryn will fix that for the Buffalo Bills.

But, back to the point, a woman is now a coach in the National Football League! To be fair, the Arizona Cardinals’ head coach, Bruce Arians, hired Jen Walter but just for the pre-season. Once the season started, she wasn’t with the team (as was the plan, she didn’t get fired). Kathryn Smith is a full time football coach in the NFL. I keep repeating it because I can’t believe it. We couldn’t even enter the “Punt, Pass and Kick” competition when I was growing up and now, every Sunday there will be a woman coaching on the sidelines of an NFL game. And, don’t forget Sarah Thomas, the first female referee hired this year, will be potentially telling Kathryn’s players they are f*ing up. It’s incredible. It’s wonderful. Thank you, Rex Ryan.

Rex Ryan is a colorful character — look him up if you don’t know about him. His players love him. He’s got a crazy and engaging personality. You wanna like the guy. In fact, google “Rex Ryan and toes” seriously, just do it. The dude’s crazy, fun but crazy. He also just hired his twin brother, Rob, to be an assistant head coach for defense. Again, what’s that job??? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Rex can make up whatever titles he wants, if they win, he’ll keep his job. So I hope they win (again, with the aforementioned Lions/Giants exemptions). Because this guy just helped women make one big, freakin’ step forward in the world of sports.

I guess, I’ve always kinda liked the Bills. I was a fan of O.J. Simpson, you know, before he became THAT O.J. I still have his football cards. Although, I was not a fan on Thanksgiving Day, 1976, in Detroit, when he set what was then a single game rushing record of 273 yards/game. But, hey, the Lions still won the game. I know. I was there. I remember the giant screen at the stadium proclaiming that on our “Thanksgiving Day Menu” we’d be serving “Juice.” Perhaps, they should have thought that one through as it worked out to be somewhat prophetic — with 273 yards rushing, we certainly had “Juice” shoved down our throats. But we won the game. It was a happy Thanksgiving dinner for the McNulty clan — at a lovely restaurant — just like it should be. We all have our own Thanksgiving traditions you know.

Ahhh, and that’s why ya gotta love football. It’s exciting moments last forever in our minds. And now, women are a part of creating those memories. As a lifelong fan, I have a million stories I could tell about exciting Lions games — good and bad — as does every NFL fan. Football has become a huge part of our lives. So, anytime something that’s become a huge part of the nation’s collective consciousness makes steps towards including women where they hadn’t been previously, it’s a very cool thing. And here’s an interesting stat for you football geeks: among the top 25 yards/game performances, only O.J.’s 273 against us came in a losing effort. If you’re ever on Jeopardy and that fact is the answer for which you must provide the question … you’re welcome.

So, thank you Rex. Thank you Bruce. Thanks to everyone who helps to make our world more inclusive. Now we just need to get Rex and Bruce voting memberships to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. I bet “Concussion” would have scored a few more Oscar nods.

Jennie McNulty was named one of Curve magazine’s Top 10 lesbian comedians. She can be heard weekly as co-host of LA Talk Radio‘s “Cathy Is In: The Cathy DeBuono Show.”

The post NFL names first female coach first appeared on Lesbian.com.

‘Twas the Night before Christmas and all through the flat
Not a creature was stirring not even the cat;
The stockings were hung by the TV with care.
As they made a good basket for balls shot through the air.
The children, what children? ‘Tis a lesbo poem here.
The only thing nestled was a cooler of beer.
My girl in her Knicks hat and I in my Pistons,
Were discussing which team would end up with less wins.
When out in the street there arose such a noise,
So close to The Abbey, it must be gay boys.
To the window I went, to see things for certain
And moved all the cat toys to look out through the curtain.
The moon, nearly full, lit the sky with a glow,
And the shadows from trees put on quite a show.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a black hybrid town car and 8 officers = queer.
With a confident driver, quick witted and bright,
Who looked just like Hillary =hard to tell in this light.
Circled ‘round her, her agents looked this way and that
A new crew it seemed as directions she spat.
“Now! Ellen, now! Wanda, now! Rachel and Rosie,
“On! Portia, on! Lily, on! Holland and Jodie;
“Shake hands at the Abbey, shake hands in the street!
“My record’s not perfect – pissed off gays we must meet!”
Like the milkmen of old, to each house they did go,
No stone left unturned, they went with the flow.
Each person encountered, she spoke with sincere,
“I promise this time, I’ll be always pro-queer.”
And, then in a twinkling, I heard just outside
A voice calling, “All clear,” and another replied:
“Okay, bring her up,” and my heart leapt a bit.
At my door was Ms. Hillary, and I thought, “No shit!”
She was dressed in a pant suit, and comfortable shoes.
And her hair looked just perfect, must be good shampoo.
A pamphlet, all glossy, she held in her hand,
A promise and details to her governing plan.
Her eyes – full of passion! Her attitude merry,
Her cheeks were like roses (maybe hitting the sherry?)
She talked of her goals and how suited she is
To be our next leader, “I’m the best in the biz!”
On and on she did go ‘bout her qualifications.
She needed support and, of course, more donations.
When I asked her about Marco, Ted, Jeb and ole Trump,
Her eyes rolled with disgust, “Just big pains in my rump.”
“I’ve got more experience, Trump’s all ego and wealth.”
And, I laughed when she said that in spite of myself.
A wink of her eye and a handshake most sturdy
I knew she was ready for when this got dirty.
My vote I did promise and I wished her good luck.
“Dear God, you must win ‘cuz the Republicans suck.”
And laying a finger aside of her chin
And, giving a nod, secret service came in.
She sprung to her car with her team in protection
And away they all went, off to win the election.
But I heard her exclaim, ere she drove out of sight –
Happy Christmas to all, and “Hillary 2016!”

Jennie McNulty was named one of Curve magazine’s Top 10 lesbian comedians. She can be heard weekly as co-host of LA Talk Radio‘s “Cathy Is In: The Cathy DeBuono Show.”

The post Twas the night before Christmas (lesbian edition) first appeared on Lesbian.com.