Denise McDonald Dorman

Posts Tagged ‘Kathy Griffin’

Yes, I Am 12…and Not in Dog Years

In Comedy, Dave Dorman, Denise Dorman, Humor, Life Observations, Practical Jokes, Pranks, Wall Street Journal, WriteBrain Media on January 16, 2011 at 10:32 pm

I‘ll admit it. I’m not the most sophisticated when it comes to humor. Frankly, I am 12.

Oh, I can grasp and laugh at Dennis Miller’s obscure metaphors 90% of the time–admittedly with a little help from Wikipedia. I revel in the clever comedy stylings of Christopher GuestMonty Python and The League of Gentlemen…but it’s the really immature stuff that sucker punches me. Blazing Saddles. Kathy Griffin. Pee Wee Herman.

What does it say about me that I can’t sit in a board meeting and hear the word “titillate” without smirking? When someone lets go of a squeaker in church, I’m a goner. I’ll admit, I even snuck in a quote about farting when the Wall Street Journal interviewed me a few years back. While I haven’t researched this carefully, I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume I’m the very first.

Yes, I am 12.

This has made parenting a six-year-old boy an enormous challenge for me. My “pause laughter” button has never materialized. I spontaneously erupt at his every precocious declaration and sound effect. This is doing neither me, my husband nor my son any favors. I might as well be telegraphing, “Want to avoid disciplinary action? Just make that well-timed comment or fart sound!”

I’m so lucky to have a mature partner in this parenting endeavor–my husband Dave. That’s right. The comic book artist is the mature one in this dynamic duo. Who’d have thunk it? Like my BFF, the brilliant prankster Christina Bouvier whom I’ve mentioned in previous posts, Dave has somehow trained his facial muscles to hide his gut reaction. This comes in handy on occasions like last Friday, when our son informed us in his wide-eyed innocence that “cows have gutters.” Dave’s a true poker face.

Here’s just one example: Once upon a time not long ago, Dave and I stood together in a long checkout line at Lowe’s. Deep within the bowels of my hobo bag, I had forgotten about my new key chain…the one with the cursing man sound chip fob. I never meant to actually use it in public. It was one of those impulse buys I intended to use on Bouvier. It seems my wallet shifted inside of there and jammed the key fob’s talk button. “You’re an A-hole! You’re an A-hole! You’re an A-hole! Eff you, Eff you, Eff you!” the key chain chirped incessantly…and loudly. People in other checkout lines were staring me down. My purse was plagued with Tourette’s Syndrome, yet Dave didn’t bat an eye.

One day my son will be 12, and we will be equals.


My First Coffee Spit Take for Today

In Uncategorized on May 9, 2009 at 5:48 pm

Do you have that one stand-out friend in your life? The one you phone first thing most mornings to get your day started on a positive note? I do. Mine is Christina Bouvier, who has had a starring role in my life’s cast of kooky characters since the 7th grade. When you’ve known someone for 33 years, you can pretty much say anything to each other. We speak in shorthand. No need for formalities. No self-editing. Just plain old profanity-laden chatter that would send any man of the cloth running for his holy water. When my husband first got to know me, he said, “I never believed that women really talked like ‘Sex and the City,’ until I met you and your friends.” Mind you, our conversations don’t revolve so much around our own sex lives as they do our observations about other people’s sex lives, but no topic is off limits.

When I call, Christina shouts, “Go!” — her signal for me to start speaking staccato style, in an abbreviated download because we’re both always in one helluva hurry.

Christina Bouvier is a woman of few words, but hers pack a wallop. She ever-so-casually drops these bon mots that have me spraying my last gulp of coffee onto my computer screen. Now my laptop runs on Dunkin’, too. Take this morning’s phone conversation:

Her: “What the fuck is up with Stephen Colbert’s ear?”
Me: “Um, I think I read it was frost bite or something.”
Her: “Well, I wish he would stop tilting his head that way and hiding his God damned ear. Just show me the fucking ear already. I cannot even hear what he’s saying because I’m so focused on trying to see his God-damned ear.”

Christina Bouvier’s running commentary on public figures makes Kathy Griffin’s comedy seem like sunshine, rainbows and peppermint kisses. One night I was over there as the news was blaring in the background. It was toward the end of Pope John Paul II’s life, and the news footage showed him sitting on his throne during a church service, seemingly catatonic. Christina Bouvier, a former Catholic, briefly glanced over and said, “He’s just like that dead guy in ‘Weekend at Bernie’s.'” As I said, few words, but they pack a wallop.

One day, under total anonymity, I hope to get Christina Bouvier on a regular morning podcast so the rest of the world can enjoy that first coffee spit take of the day and hear what real women really say about real people. You know, like the not-so-PC conversations Gayle King and Oprah really have when that satellite radio audience isn’t listening.