Goat Sex: A New York Story

When I was 20, I found myself alone in Midtown near 8/9 Avenues and with money in my pocket. It was from a summer job I worked as a lifeguard where my mother employed me. Up to that point in my life, I was actually a good little Catholic girl from Bethel Park, a small town outside of Pittsburgh. Translated, I didn't talk about sex let alone think about it. Sex was yucky, yucky, yucky.

I found myself in Midtown. My errand was to get sheet music for my singing class. Each week we had to have a new song, and I had class later that day and had dragged my feet on the errand. I got my sheet music and was on my way back to the train when my mind got the best of me lets just say.

Prior to that I made vanilla look flavorful. I was from an area where girls saved themselves for marriage and at that juncture in my life I planned to do the same. Many of my high school classmates even wore promise rings, because anal doesnt count as we all know. Some of my male classmates who took the pledge have come out as gay but that's a different story. They promised not to have sex......with girls. Again, anal doesn't count, right?

Sex Ed at my school was a joke. We had Abstinence Education which teaches you to wait. It doesnt work. My school had the highest instance of teen pregnancy in the area. So fellas, maybe I didn't know how to put a condom on but knew how to put a baby in a dumpster. But it was okay if I hit the Bible Study some religious zealot teacher was having during lunch. Or dodged the Christian youth group leader who wandered my cafeteria looking for fresh blood and lost souls. Needless to say, he was later jailed for having sex with under-aged boys. Big surprise......

My college classmates were much more sexually savvy and were from much more liberal areas. At times this made me feel stupid, insecure, and outright lonely. Was I less sophisticated because I didn't slut around with some boy.......wait that was her steady in the backseat of that Buick. Was I less worthy of being taken seriously because I wasn't as experienced? Did it make me a bad person to tell some guy that I could fuck him and say someday I did when he became a rockstar to jump off a cliff?

Hell if I knew. Either way, there were times I felt like a wandering vestal virgin and the men around me were outright predators willing to torture me and con sex. However, they were just as awkward and unsure as I was looking back. And a lot of people were coming out. No one knew the answers. Funny how hindsight is 20/20.

As I neared the subway on 8th I saw a porn store. I had a few hours to kill but not enough time to go back downtown where my dorm was so I went in. Why not? What could possibly go wrong?

I wandered in and saw racks and racks of porn movies. Some were straight on male/female porn. Others were gang bangs. Then there was the tranny porn. Of course this was next to the Thai tranny porn because some folks are into foreign trannies. An entire section was dedicated to midget porn which was borderline disturbing. Then there was the gay porn. Next to the lesbian porn. Porn was much more diverse than I ever imagined, that was for sure.

The store itself was interesting. The lingerie was actually quite appealing, but I had no where to wear it and no one to wear it for. The shoes were also neat, stripper heals that were at least five inches. I too had no where to wear these and they were $80.

In between was lube, condoms, dildos, butt plugs, and the vibrator. Looking back, a vibrator would have probably been a better investment than the latter. But I had no clue what to do with any of these things.

As I ascended the stairs I came across some peep show booths. Standing near them was an Indian dude who looked at me like I had two heads when I asked if I could enter as long as I paid my fifty cents. He asked me if I was sure and I told him I was. In my utter state of ignorant I didn't realize guys jacked off in there, and as a girl I didn't choke the chicken and get my little Johnny Appleseeds all over the place like they did. Hell, I might have been the first woman he ever saw come in..........What a dubious honor.

He let me in anyway. As long as my money is good, right?

Once I got into the booth there were several screens I could choose from that were being live streamed.

The first screen was a guy and a girl having sex. They weren't particularly good or bad looking. Actually, they looked like ordinary people. No one wants to see ordinary people having sex so I passed.

The next was two girls getting down and dirty with a dildo. They were two hot blondes so you knew this was designed for a straight man. After a few seconds I had seen the whole thing.

The screen after was two dudes having rough anal. This was intense and athletic. But I also felt like the dudes would feel weirded out by me watching. However, some of the promise ring wearing dudes from my old high school are probably watching now but that's a different story.

Then the screen after that was a midget orgy. While this was unique and the midgets were committed to truth in their role of having sex with Gulliver (a Gulliver's travels themed fuck fest) I felt further watching would destroy memories of Santa's Elves, Snow White, and The Wizard of Oz for reasons we all understand.

The last screen was the one that I will never forget. It was a girl having sex with a goat. And the goat was giving it to get doggy style and standing on it's hind legs.

SHE WAS GETTING FUCKED BY A GOAT! THE GOAT WAS FUCKING HER! SOMEONE CALL PETA NOW! IF THIS WASN'T ANIMAL CRUELTY I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As if that wasn't enough, to add insult to injury, each time her horned horny animal companion thrust his well endowed goat penis into her, she squealed,  "Ee, Ei, Ee, Ei, Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!" Okay, Old McDonald was officially ruined. I could never sing it to my little cousins ever again.

Words could not describe this experience. I was horrified. I was amazed. I was frightened. I was intrigued. I also knew if the super Christians from my hometown knew where I was they would be holding a prayer circle for me around my old high school flag pole. It had been bad enough when I said God gave us a brain therefore I was pro-choice. It had ticked them off when I said a blob of tissue was not a person because there were children dying in Iraq. It further angered them when I said the youth group leader wandering the cafeteria was probably a pedophile and he was. However, we could all still be friendly. This, however, would be the last straw. Jesus could not save me now. Abstinence education never covered this let alone planned for it in the curriculum.

Question to the promise ring wearers was, if anal didn't count, did goats? Oh questions, questions, questions.

As girl and goat were going at it, my phone rang. It was my mom. Oh her timing was impeccable as usual. I was alone in New York and she was freaking out because she hadn't heard from me all day. Oh if she could see me now. I could tell her I discovered Old McDonald's wayward daughter had resorted to beastiality and now I had proof when she asked if anything funny happened to me. Or maybe I would leave that story out........

 Finally, my five minutes ran out. I was no longer curious about the peep show. I think at that point I was good for another 5,10, 15 years. When I exited, I called my mom back.  She wanted to know how my day went. I told her I was getting sheet music for class, which was true. It's why I was in Midtown. I didn't tell her about my detour that was still making me blush.

When I got home that evening, I took a long shower and kept the story to myself for many years. It's not one you just tell people without them shaming you or asking a shit ton of questions. Looking back I should have spent my time more wisely that day let alone my money. But young and stupid can be a combination that makes for a good story later on.

And also, having worked in entertainment, I will say this, whoever that director was should be commended. That goat was not only a fabulous actor, but he was VERY WELL TRAINED.

Cold Turkey

Today I got a call from a booker I haven’t spoken to in forever and a day. It was kind of weird because for the last year and a half, in the midst of my blonde ambition and press coverage, I have vocalized my want to tour, especially internationally. As a kid, I did the road every weekend for no money. Actually I take that back, bad money and rainbow meat hamburgers.

What ended up happening is, the road took me out of the city so I kind of decided to return when I got more television credits under my belt and could demand actual money thus it would make sense to travel out of town for a tad. That being said, the sojourns out of the city were adventures and paid respites, although not well paid respites may I add. Plus I missed the camaraderie and the sometimes harried tales of comedy that brought us all closer together as a community.

Anyway, this booker whom I will call Paul Feinstein and I haven’t spoken forever and a day. Truth, I wasn’t pursuing road work in honest, at least not in the United States. But as I said this past year I vocalized wanting to tour, however the bookers I were pursuing were in Europe. In any event, I got a mentor who advised me to capitalize off of my international press in the US and then work my way to Europe. Since debuting in Vegas, the wheels have been turning that way.

Yes, I still want to go to Europe and plan on it. But my luck has changed in the United States and just as I dealt with some wonderful people abroad I am dealing with some wonderful people here. Bottom line, there are good and bad people everywhere.

Paul and I have kind of a strange history. He and I worked together a few times back in the day but life happens and you lose touch. Plus I think he was breaking up with a business partner which happens from time to time. Nonetheless, Paul has always been in my corner. He also managed one of my heroes before his unfortunate passing nearly two years ago. An eccentric workaholic, the best time to reach Paul is between midnight and 1 AM. It’s true, he told me to call him around that time back in the day and he always picked up. A copious note taker, Paul will go through your act joke by joke and tell you what works and what doesn’t.

Paul’s assistant Jake called me with news of the gig and asked me to close the show. Because the focus has been on the video end, I haven’t been doing as many live shows. However the closer pay was good. Paul then got on the line and asked me if I was closing regularly. I was honest, I wasn’t. Paul lauded me for telling the truth. He was giving me a gig that was going to pay decently for featuring, and plus the club covered hotel. Either way, this was what I needed.

For the past year I had been questioning, despite all the international buzz, whether or not I belonged in the comedy world. An eviction, even when it’s not your fault, will make you question how you conduct your affairs quite a bit. At the same time, I had been thirsting for more reasonable road work, because it pays the bills in between appearances. Also, if all goes well, Paul gives me more gigs and although he is a little crazy as we all are, he pays and is fair.

The conversation that followed is one for the books though.

Booker: Well thank you for being honest with me about everything, that goes a long way.

Me: For sure.

Booker: You see, it’s great you are a vent (ventriloquist) act. They originally wanted to use Mike Jones but apparently he’s no longer doing ventriloquism.

Me: What?! Mike Jones is so known for ventriloquism. It’s what he does.

Booker: Yeah, I know. Tell me about it. He’s no longer doing ventriloquism in his act though. The most insane part is, he isn’t even letting anyone know.

Me: Wow. Really?! That is insane. What’s he doing instead? Regular stand up.

Booker: Yup, and the worst thing is, his regular stand up is not funny enough to stand on it’s own. So he is still being booked as a ventriloquist and just showing up without his puppets.

Me: Wow. That’s nuts.

Booker: Yeah, he didn’t even do it gradually. He did it out of no where. You can’t just go cold turkey like that. It throws people off.

Sigh……this conversation sounds like it was ripped straight out of a Woody Allen movie. I often feel as if my life is a never ending adventure film that continually writes itself. My mom thought this was good, because if I can get consistent work on the road that pays half decent it will fill in the gaps when things get slow. Plus it will be making money. Not bad. As she said, "Honey, this is an open window for you."

Still, the whole situation is only mildly insane because Mike Jones was a friend I made through the ventriloquist circle. He taught ventriloquism. He performed ventriloquism. He was so into ventriloquism he sent me a persnickety note about my lip control. Mike Jones was ventriloquism!

Am I Woody Allen or Mel Brooks right now? Hard to say. As I said, cannot make this stuff up. The club owner even wrote on the website, “Our ventriloquist decided he didn’t want to be a ventriloquist anymore. Can’t make this shit up.”

Wow.

Sigh…….to have a booker saying you quit ventriloquism cold turkey. Granted, I know I am known for being addicted to my puppets and leaving a man so we could have the best life possible. Still, I have heard everything and have never heard this.

This particular ventriloquist was Mr. Ventriloquism too. He was a contemporary of Jeff Dunham as a matter of fact. He was good friends with one of my heroes, the late, great Otto Petersen. He had appeared as a headliner in Vegas and on TV AS A VENTRILOQUIST!

What happened to throw this man over the edge? Why did he put his wooden friends through the proverbial wood chipper? This was so sudden, so odd, so WTF?! The man was one who even sent me a note on my lip control technique. Bottom line, he knew his vent.

It was as if the planets crashed and out of the blue the sky began to fall after a storm of raining pigs. I told my mom this and she suspected something awful had happened in his life. But he was so dedicated, so passionate, even his own son was doing ventriloquism! What became of this poor, unfortunate family?

Either way, as my mom explained this left a headlining door wide open for me and my job was to really perfect my act. (And technically it is a double headline event it seems between me and the other fellow). She also explained that if I could get enough headlining appearances in between being on TV like I am sometimes with my kids, we could sustain ourselves more heartily. Plus I like being onstage so it’s not bad. When you get to the headliner point in comedy you can demand more money, you are the headliner damnit. It’s the way to go.

The strange thing is, I almost quit this past year as I mentioned. My faith in God is something I am proud of and do not hide, although I am not the type to shove it in people’s face. Around the beginning of the year I asked Him to guide me to see if this was what I was supposed to be doing in the first place.

The truth is, He gave me an amazing mentor in Vegas who has been a gift from heaven in every sense of the word. “Stay,” a cover I did a few years back, cracked the top 40 on a New York Dance Chart on Reverbnation. Usually you have to pay for it to crack the top 100, meaning you are independently wealthy or have a label behind you. I had neither, it just did it on it’s own. My publishing house sent me a royalty check, aka “surprise money” as writers call it. This caught me off guard, but right before my first eviction court date I found out my book had been selling overseas. Then someone was interested in an idea I have held close to my heart.

And then out of no where I get a call to do this gig. I suppose He is answering my question.

Maybe whatever is up there has been answering my question all along. (I like to call it God but who knows what it is if there is anything). Last year, as I lost two well paid campaigns to others for a myriad of reasons, none having to do with talent, I struggled to keep the faith within myself. Yet the news about my family and I hit the web. It went viral. One press agency thought I had hired a publicist. I wanted to tell them, “Silly rabbits, when you are facing eviction you can’t even pay your rent…….a publicist is out of the question.”

In the midst of the bed bugs, mold, and other drama I found my story somewhere new in the world daily it seemed. Yes, I was on my way to being homeless in America but damnit they were singing my praises in Albania. I also got onstage religiously and was putting away some awesome sets. For the first time in forever I was enjoying comedy. Maybe this was whatever was upstairs guiding me to keep my head on straight because sometimes I lose sight of what’s important. We all do. Bottom line, we get what we want just not in the way we think we will get it, and everything happens in it’s own time.

Maybe Mike Jones went through a difficult phase like I did. I know he wasn’t the same after his massive heart attack and might be losing his mind. Maybe, just maybe, during those difficult times he had idiots like my ex friend whispering their negativity in his ear. And maybe he didn’t have the strength or awareness to tune them out. Whatever the case is, I hope he finds some peace. Mike is a nice guy.

Either way, this whole thing is playing out like a comedy melodrama online. Mike has written a scathing post in regards to this club owner whom he refers to as an egomaniac, and says the man is in violation of contract. As Mike has aired his grievance, many of his supporters have rallied around him. He insists, “No club owner can tell me how to do my act.”

Mike has gone so far as to encourage other headliners not to work with this particular man.

On the same token, the club owner has fired back as I explained earlier by writing, "You can't make this shit up."

He further blasted Mike on the comedy club's website without using his name, but referred to me as a “better, more talented entertainer” that they got to replace him. Mike was an excellent ventriloquist, so if I am better or more talented remains to be seen. I get wanting to grow as a comedian and do other things, but you have to ease people into them. And I get where the club owner is coming from, it's like going to a diner, ordering scrambled eggs, and them bringing you chili. I know I will probably get the full story this weekend, and I will say it's none of my business.......although the industry gossip in me will be all ears, interested to know how this thing went down and I got in the middle. 

 I get to do this weekend with an old open mic friend I haven’t seen in years who is doing quite well. At the very least this will be a good story. I am excited because of the opportunity, but scared so that means it’s time to work on my act.

I feel like I am living the movie Broadway Danny Rose. It’s one of my mentor’s favorite films. Maybe I will watch it later today. 

Check out the club's website http://www.myclubcomedy.com/show-schedule-and-tickets.html