My show on Dromebox.com Kitten2cougar with Paris Kennedy wrapped a few weeks ago after over a year of Saturday midnights. She is incredibly busy with projects and if I begged her to keep showing up I’d be a shit friend. We loved doing the show for a year but she is going to be away so much of the Spring and Summer. I, however; will be right here, and have a new show called Hello, Cougar! premiering end of April. Paris and I remain best of friends, Valley-life partners and will be working soon on other silly, funny and naughty bits. It was great doing our talk show with the Drome crew every week, the comedians who guested, and Paris’ dear friend Tony was such a baller hooking us up with fun costumes. It got me thinking of some of my jobs when I was in my 20’s.

When I worked at a children’s theatre in the mall, I often dressed as Snow White and strolled around handimg out flyers. Sometimes I had a prince with me, other times he was too hungover. There was this Bavarian sandwich deli-type place (Maybe I should not use Bavarian and Deli together) called Spritzels that was big in the 80’s and 90’s and I used to go hard on their Swiss cheese sandwiches with pints of Warsteiner. I am not sure if this is what Snow White would eat and I didn’t give a fuck. Disney would have arrested me if they saw me in Spritzels smoking, drinking pints and chatting up non dwarves and the Spritzels Nazis weren’t too cool about it either. They told my boss I was scaring the kids and that I couldn’t come in my costume. I tried to lie my way out of it to the kid’s theatre admin but I was a few pints in and it was my slurred words against theirs. They fired me in my Snow White costume, which they let me keep as it had cigarette burns.

I put it to good use doing kids parties for this older dude who wanted to fuck me and all younger women. His name was Tony Ross and he has to be dead by now so I am not talking shit and I will say he had a heart to back up his pimp vibe. He hooked me up with some costumes like Barbie, the Little Mermaid and April O’Neal, the redheaded reporter with the Ninja Turtles. That was the toughest gig as the turtles were dicks, always late rolling up in some fogged out rape van smoking pot under the huge turtle heads til it turned to crack. I’d already had to stall the party for 40 minutes and they never appreciated April, claiming they could find another white girl and this was pre white guilt. I decided to show Michaelangelo, Donatello and the other dude what side their bread was buttered on.. Oh yeah, sometimes they would bring their dipshit neighbor playing the part of Shredder. He didn’t have the turtle ego but it was guilt by association and he was going to be out of a job, too. Due to my childrne’s theatre contacts, I knew a costumer who made me three new turtle suits for under a grand and I soon had Tony booking me and some straightedge types for the kiddie parties. I was making baller money as April but having the most fun as The Little Mermaid. I loved cruising through Miami beach in a long red wig with shells on my tits and cash flying all over the car. We did a lot of drug dealer family parties and often Ariel could be found in the bathroom with Dad, turns out he liked The Little Mermaid too, and she liked blow. This Ariel didn’t want to be where the people are.
While it’s easy to cross over to the dark side of children’s birthday parties, I have some memories even purer than South Beach cocaine in 1991. A girl of 9 wanted a party in the mall theatre (this was pre Spritzelsgate) and she had her own Alice in Wonderland Costume. That made two of us and together we played Alice’s past and future selves, with her birthday buddies acting out the Cheshire cat, the Red Queen, the Mock non Ninja Turtle, etc while I Morgan Freemaned and she starred. I could tell this was her favorite birthday yet. Her mom called me the next year and begged us to do it again but I was too busy going down the looking glass myself. I have a feeing she remembers her ninth birthday, though. I know I do and I hope that kid grew up and is doing everything she wants. She’d be pleased to know I am.

My 21st birthday in 1989, clearly a surprise party cause I woulda had a keg.

I am thrilled to be celebrating my 47th birthday on my actual birthday, September 8th and to be doing it in a big way. Here’s all you need to know and probably TMI. I may be to amped up to answer texts so I am trying to be thorough, coke-mom style.

When: Tuesday, Sept. 8th 8P< to 12AM. No early birds, please! (That's a hot mess' pet peeve) Although if you are wanting pre-party dinner, the front area of Sal's including a covered patio is good for that! Where: Sal’s Comedy hole in the back part of Sal’s Italian Resturant, 7356 Melrose Ave, Los Angeles 90038 (323) 651-3822. Neither RSVP nor reservations required. Also no need to text that you are late, parking, not coming, still coming. I’m going to be loaded. Feel free to send dick pics, tho. I got my Android back.

Food and Dress: Wear what you want. This is not a Merchant Ivory film or a Robert Palmer video. Sal’s has great Italian food that I have never eaten, including $10 pizzas. Booze-wise they serve beer and wine. I will have a birthday cake there, provided by “Sugar Daddy” Dennis Devine who will also be snapping some party pics, best guy buddy reppin’the 818, so say cheeze.

Parking: It’s Hollywoodish so parking sucks but I’ve had worst and I host Comedy Resin at Sal’s every Monday, so tend to park on the residential streets South of Melrose, sometimes even close to LaBrea. READ THE SIGNS as even the res. area has rules. We got this.

Roast the host: Ann-Marie Symonds came up with the idea of roasting me and people seem into it… No obligation of course, and with a room full of comics it could be dangerous that people use it to work out jokes that have NOTHING TO DO WITH ME! This being said the roast will go form 10:30 to 11:00 and we will do ten slots with three minutes each. If we go a little over and start a little late, cool. I’m not a control freak. If you have seen my bedroom (and who hasn’t) you know this… The sign up for the roast will be at a table in the back, babes. I’m starting it that late so Vargus can get his ass over from the store. There is no pressure, Hell, not even any pressure to come to the party. Like I said, I’ll be loaded. Get the word out and invite who you want, especially guys who can only get hard for mature women.

Fun Stuff: Sal’s has been really good to me ever since I started hosting for Dante and Rebekah there. They seem appreciative of comics and the business they bring, unlike some other Hollywood spots. No names mentioned but it rhymes with fig, thistle, etc. I know you will take care of Tanisha and crew as they hook us up tomorrow. There is no cover to attend the party (This ain’t the Clinton years with a Bush atiitude) but please eat and drink, or just drink – like me. Gifts are sure a non-issue. If you feel like donating ten bucks to Beagles and Buddies dog rescue in my name it would be pimp and if you insist on being a major baller here’s my WISH LIST.

Thanks for your time and now let’s get reasonably fucked up, network and make out-and do me proper by subscribing to KITTEN2COUGARS’s You Tube. See you tomorrow, or not!

Paris Kennedy and I share our Dead Guy Crush #DGC on Paul Walker, who wasn’t driving!

Having your own place makes you way more dateable. 

When I was growing up in the great 80’s the word “creepy” was used a lot less and sometimes as a compliment. If a horror film was creepy it had done it’s job. Now the new c-word is used on the daily, usually describing a guy no one wants to date, no one that he’s scoping out, anyway.  As someone who’s dated a lot of legit creepy guys, and can put out a strong creeper vibe herself, I’m about to pass on some pro tips to help fellas avoid the Raidohead song being your anthem (Although it’s eerily beautiful, and it’s still cool to be eerie!)

Some dates involve lotion.

1. GOOD TIMES!  Don’t bring up something unpleasant as a lead in. If she had a baby at 17 don’t ask how he’s doing in school. Don’t even bring up the day job. If she quit stand-up, ask about improv. We don’t want to talk about what we miss, unless it’s a dude, and even you’re not sick enough to ask that. Stop being a bad trip spirit a guide. It’s not concern; it’s creeping.

2. WORRY WARTS (HPV) And furthermore, don’t play the cloying-ass worried card.  Once in a while a guy rolls out a “Hey, Stranger.” While this a retro guilt trip at best, at least he’s not playing the nice guy card who adds one more item to your to-do-list. 1. Avoid cops 2. Feed pets 3. Text dude so he can rest tonight.  Hmmm, he didn’t text back cause he already jerked himself to sleep and now he’s got a lead in for the morning.  Don’t be showing out with phoney fretting about her commute unless you’re a DUI attorney.

 What a guy does in his private time is private.

3. EGG BEATERS – Own it – fertilize your fucking Twitter egg with a pic! Social media affords us many stalker opps so you no longer have to rely on “I was in the neighborhood.”  When notified of a tweet saying she’ll be in Hollywood tonight, there is no need to play it cool and say “Hey, I was gonna be at Mann’s Chinese…   This is not serendipity; it’s stalking lite. Social Media allows us to put it out there and if you get the feeling you’re not the fly she was trying to catch, she may be too exquisite a spider for you. You may need to find out where that house spider is weaving tonight and social networks expose natural habitats.

That being said if you’re on the same dating site play that shit cool… pipe down on the peeping tom potential. “He,y I saw you logged onto Plenty of Fish” has an  element of outing and slut shaming going on. It’s like your chastising us for being naked with the blinds up while you’re rubbing one out in the bushes. Sorry to making so many masturbation references. I’m bitter that guys can do it without power tools.

Guys with hobbies and/or crafts are intriguing.

4. CENSUS – Sure, I’m heartfelt giving tips on how a nice guy with no game can avoid being scary, but a lot of these hoops need never be jumped thru. Chances are the girl you’re crushing on is out of your league. You know this but society has trained you to go for it anyway, and we get so many beauty and the beast couples as role models that guys can get confused. Unless you are hilarious (easy test: is everyone always laughing around you, and not just out of fear) and/or have money, you need to look at the numbers. If you have a cool platonic female friend ask her what your looks are on a scale of 1 to 10 and then go two points lower for THE TRUTH. Chasing anyone who is more than two points higher than you is a waste of your time unless you have deep pockets.

You:  Hey, Paige (Platonic friend, good eco-minded lady) I’m interested in how you’d rate my looks on a scale of 1 to 10. Be honest.

Paige: Oh, well, hmm, (looking around for backup) You have really nice hair and great eyes, I’d have to say 7 but if you were taller I’d give you an 8, not that you are short but this town is just so picky, oh now I feel bad…

You: Sorry if I made you feel bad. Let’s get some coffee.

Paige: Oh, there’s my boyfriend, see ya.

Now it’s your turn to do the math.  Paige kindly said 7. Are you wealthy – not yet.  Are you hilarious- just cause you have a weed card doesn’t make you the life of the party.  You’re an LA 5.  You lean too hard on anything above a 7 – you’re gonna look like a creeper.  But take it from me, 7’s are AMAZING.

Pets show you a guy can get attached.

5. PAUL WALKER- if you look like him or any of his siblings they were hitting up to do stunts after he died, you can be as creepy as you wanna be.  It’s not even creepy it’s passionate, active, alive, engaged, focused and a bunch of other things chicks love.  Work out eat right, dress cool and you’ll take the edge off creepy. If you’re just damn gorgeous, it’s so hard for you to creep it up. Jake Gyllenhall lost thirty pounds and wore a half-assed man bun in Nightstalker, yet felt barely quirky. Then again, my pussy has housed more pathology than Spawn Ranch in Reseda. If you’re too young to know where that is- let’s get a drink.

It takes more than a man-bun to scare me.

Check me out every Sunday night at my great new open mic @The Pig N’ Whistle on Hollywood Boulevard.