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I remember my astronomy professor teaching the definition of work:

In physics, a force is said to do work if, when acting on a body, there is a displacement of the point of application in the direction of the force. Thanks Wikipedia!

I remember him saying "so I know when you stay up all night writing a paper it feels like work but it really isn't. I mean it is work. But not really." This is based on writing not yielding much in the way of W=Fs. I was a theatre major. Who knows? So feel free to wiki to your hearts content about the formula or the definition. Moving on. 

At present I have people in my life that don't consider being a comedian "real work" either. So what makes an activity work? Does it have a certain dollar amount attached to it? Is writing a novel a hobby but pumping gas work? Is it more noble to be a parent of one or a CEO who employs thousands? What is work? 

I'm grumpy about this topic because my friends always ask me if I am going to look for a job. One friend (well maybe ex-friend after this little gem of a moment) came to see my new apartment and handed the housewarming greeting card to my girlfriend saying "I'll let you open this since you are the one that works." In my own fucking home! Unbelievable. I wanted to punch him in the throat. Or at least put my thumb in his pizza that I paid for! I did neither.

But getting back to the original question of what is work? In this instance a friend and supporter, a person who has been to countless gigs, doesn't think I am entitled to open a fucking card. I could see if it had a Home Depot card in it that he assumed I would try to trade for food stamps or something. Or had a pouch of diamonds that I would surely hock to by the Richard Pryor collection and a side of heroine. But no. This was just your run of the mill, Dollar Store greeting card. Who doesn't deserve to open a card? Apparently this artist?

Because who you are reading about here is the new and improved Michelle. The Buddhists Michelle. The kinder and gentler... well at least guilt ridden enough to to try to be kinder and gentler Michelle. In this moments of disrespect and misunderstanding I am reminded of a teaching from the leader of my Buddhist study circle. Although he is well into his golden years, my instructor told us of how his son suggested that since he is still able-bodied that he go out and find a job." "I have a job", he replied. "It is to teach Buddhism to whomever will listen." 

I listened. I really did. But for the record. I HAVE A JOB! IT IS TO BE A MOTHER-LOVING COMEDIAN - to whomever will listen.

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I think I may have made a bad critical choice when I was younger. I was so frustrated with trying to be an actor, or more plainly, not getting cast as an actor. That if I didn't have a crucial roll in the performance I wanted nothing to do with it. If I had to tend bar it sure as shit wasn't going to be in a comedy club or at a theatre (yeah I'm using the French spelling. I have a B.F.A).

But now I am looking back at all the people I missed out on meeting and the energy I missed out on being in. When I think back to all the idle chats about the weather or sports when I should have been submerged in some horribly pretentious artistic debate. I think Godot was really waiting for... Dammit. 

But today I am turning over a new leaf. If you can't beat them - interview them. I have started to build a new website at www.tomcomedy.weebly.com. Where I will be covering the comedy scene in Atlantic City. My first interview was tonight with the very sweet and funny Ward Anderson. I hope you will check it out. 

So who gets to decide what goes on at a wedding? I just assumed it was the bride. I don't mean the bride and the groom either. I mean the bride. Right? Can I get an amen? It's like Jerry Seinfeld says in his old routine. The reason all the men dress the same is in case anything happens to the groom all the men take a step to their left. 

But I have friends who are getting married on the beach next month. Now I couldn't be happier to wear my new swimsuit to a wedding. Hell yeah. No itchy clothes, no stuffy church and no rubber chicken. Which I assume also means no chicken dance. OH HELL YEAH! I'm gonna be like "congrats where's the burgers?"

But the families of these two beautiful people are taking a different stance. "Why isn't it in a church?" "Uh it's soooooo hard to get to the beach on July 4th." "Why don't you have a wedding dress." But who is paying for this wedding? Um, the people that want it on the beach. What's wrong with this picture?

I would just like to go on record that I am proud of my fun, unpretentious, frugal friends who want to buy a house instead of buy a wedding. Good for you. Stick to your guns. And for the love of god, no flipping Macarena. That seems to upset people.

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I just got home from helping a couple plan the itinerary for their June wedding that I am performing at. No you read it right. I'm doing stand-up at a wedding. Niche Market? Maybe. A priest and a rabbi and a bride and a groom walk into a church...

This is going to be a great wedding too. It is going to be low-budget, relaxed and fun. Gourmet food, no chicken dance, not throwing the bouquet, and no flippin' Macarena. The colors are fuchsia. But you can't have everything. Apparently an Uncle Ritchie is opening for me. So I am a headliner.

It's something to think about as traditional weddings cost up into the tens and hundreds of thousands. And the damn thing is over so quickly. Why not have a comic up there doing some yuck yucks. Most marriages are a joke anyway. I'm sure this particular couple will be very happy together though. I at least guarantee them a good laugh. Can't find a good DJ? Your wedding band first choice is booked? Then feed a local comic. Maybe you can find one that can hum Macarena.

You better hope that you are not the next person who says to me "let's do lunch." Because it is very likely that this will be the moment that I just totally snap. I don't understand the payoff people get coming up to me after meeting me or after seeing a gig and saying things like "I love you. Let's talk.", or  "You are a star. Let's do lunch." if they don't really mean it. I finally got the blow-off of a "big fan" of mine today after time was wasted coresponing and sending pricing and bios and blah, blah, blah. Is your ego that challenged that it needs to torture a little lesbian just to get out of bed in the morning?

I don't say shit to people that I can't help or I think have zero talent. There is a young girl who contacted me after seeing the feature story about my career in the Press of Atlantic City. She wants to do coffee. Guess what? I said yes. Guess what else? I'm going to actually do coffee with her. Because that is what I said I was going to do. Plus I actually believe artists should network and stick together. Call me crazy.