Highlights of Gentse Feesten 2009

If you don't know what the Gentse Feesten is, it's a yearly 10 day festival in the city of Gent (a.k.a. "Ghent") where I live in Belgium. It just ended, so don't rush out here or anything, but a very nice time was had by all. I spent most of my time at our comedy room as I can't stand crowds (kind of a drawback at festival time, I know) but I took pictures of lots of stuff anyway. So here's some stuff:




OK - here's the first thing. This is a pee stand. They have these all over the place during the Feesten, and even though there were more of them this year than any other year, apparently there was a 200% increase in the number of incidents of wild plassen (peeing in random places). Although the mind boggles as to how they arrive at these statistics.





Here is what the area behind the comedy space looked like. Those white panels you see everywhere are really insipid poems mounted on sticks.





And here's the last day of the festival when they removed the poetry panels! Yaaay




Here's one of the non-crowded streets I favored on my walk home.




The best act at the Gentse Feesten.





An empty pee-stand on the last day. Cute graffiti, eh?





Wim as he appears all through the festival with a phone permanently embedded in his ear.





Big bad scary Antwerp Comedy Mafioso, Fokke!




This is my I-don't-like-crowds shaky photographic handywork.




You turn your back on those Russian bartenders for one second.....




The worst act at the Gentse Feesten. There is nothing less appealing than bitter out of work actors making uninspired balloon animals whilst wearing wanky costumes





Ghosts! See those orbs?! Those are ghosts! ....I took this photo over my shoulder in an attempt to clandestinely photograph one of the pee stands being used; I misaimed and got ghosts!
.
.
.
.
.

Liza Minnelli, Coffee and Kitten Hickeys

As I write this blog it's 5:00 AM. I can't sleep because I thought it would be a good idea to drink coffee at 7:00 PM. Well really I would have had tea but then it turned out we didn't have any soy milk left. I'm OK just drinking coffee black so I had that instead. And it was instant coffee and near the end of the jar so I just dumped the whole contents in which to be truthful was probably about 4 cups worth. But in my defense I was holding a kitten so I really only had one hand to work with because with the other hand I was desperately trying to keep the kitten from sucking on my neck. Too late, by the way, because I later discovered that I've got 5 tiny-sized hickeys on my neck already. She was weaned too early apparently and now I look like I've been making out with an elf.

But I digress.



When I can't sleep (as right now - see above paragraph) I look up inspirational stuff on the internet. And who do I love the best? Yes that's right: Liza with a "Z". Go play the video above. Go ahead. I'll wait here. Can ANYONE sing "New York, New York" like that? No one else should even be allowed to sing that song ever.

So I was watching all these videos and I just came across something I'd never seen before and it turns out it's the best thing ever! Liza Minnelli singing Barry Manilow on The Muppet Show!!:



OK One more. Liza on Carson 1981:


.
.
.
.
.

Oh, Whatever...

I give up.

I have been working out like a crazy person for the last three months - first by walking insane distances and the past few weeks by daily hour-long sessions on the elliptical trainers at my gym. And you want to know how much weight I've lost?

NOTHING!

And before you say, "Well maybe you're eating more.": No, I'm not. As a matter of fact I've been eating less. Much less. AND I'm a vegan now so I can't blame the cheese as I would have done in days of yore. I've been eating all vegetables and fruits and healthy healthy food, and guess what? Not only have I not lost weight, I've actually GAINED 5 KILOS!!!! That's 11 pounds for any Americans reading along. That's more than any of my cats weigh. That's nearly two cats. I've gained two cats.

And NO, it's not "muscle weight". Unless I have the world's squooshiest muscles, and then what is the point?

So I read all this stuff online and I determined that I must have a problem with my thyroid - it's the only thing that makes sense. So I went to the doctor a few days ago and I just got the results back today: Not only do I not have a thyroid problem; but I'm incredibly, astonishingly healthy. I have the body of a 20-year-old apparently. An active, albeit chubby, 20-year-old. Fuck off!.....When I got the news I couldn't stop crying. And it didn't help that my evil skinny husband was laughing at me for crying about being healthy. But here's why I was crying: If it had been a thyroid thing, I could have taken pills for it that would have made me thin! But since it's nothing I have to face the fact that I might be CURSED TO BE FAT UNTIL THE END OF TIME.

Meanwhile the closetful of clothes I've bought in the size I should be are slowly going out of fashion.

Apparently exercise does the same thing to me that it does to Sumo wrestlers.
.
.
.
.
.

Freaky Goings-On At My Gym

Here’s what’s been happening: Every time I’m at my gym (which is never very crowded by the way), I’ll be on an elliptical trainer, and someone will come and get on a trainer RIGHT NEXT TO ME. Now bear in mind that there are 9 elliptical trainers, but it doesn’t matter if all the rest are empty, still someone will get on the machine right next to mine. I thought maybe this was because I tend to be in the middle of all of them and perhaps people just wanted to look at the TV screens, but NO, it happens even when I’m on the very end of the row at either side. WHY???.......Then the other day just to check my theory, I got on a treadmill instead (5 in a row, I got on one at the end) and even though they were all empty, sure enough the next person who came in got on the one right next to me. WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON??? Is this a Belgian thing? Do Belgians have some sort of a reverse space thing to the (International I thought) RULE that you’re supposed to get no closer to another person than one empty machine between you, and even that’s a little creepy when they’re all empty? And what’s terrible is that it’s all set up so that I can’t say a thing. If I politely say, “Do you mind not standing so close to me, you freak?” (or words to that effect) then suddenly I’ll be the rude one.

I mean seriously, what do these people do in other social situations? Do they get in an elevator and stand right next to the only other person in there? When they go to an otherwise empty restaurant do they make sure to seat themselves right next to the only other people there?

The only option I have is to bring an extra towel to the gym and put it on the machine next to me so the freaks will think it’s being reserved and use one of the 7 OTHER ONES instead. I’ll let you know how it works out.

.
.
.
.
.

Goodbye Michael

Michael Jackson's death was one of those monumental do-you-remember-where-you-were-when-you-heard-the-news things. And this being the modern world, it was a moment that was marked by me flipping open my laptop and logging onto Yahoo. Weird, huh? Kinda takes all the glamour out.

I've waited a few days to post about this because I kind of wanted to watch and see what the reaction "out there" was. And as the reaction was big as I think it should be, I've got to say I don't get those people who's first reaction was to join a big crowd standing outside the hospital where he was pronounced dead and hold a "vigil". I mean what the hell? Did they expect him to resurrect? Or (as I strongly suspect) did they want to be in the thick of things when the news cameras came?



Well I for one think MJ was pretty amazing. He was the first guy I ever had a crush on. In 1984 I got to work "T-Shirt Security" for 2 nights at Mile High Stadium during The Jackson's Victory Tour. I was stationed backstage just a few meters from where all the Jacksons arrived and got out of their limos for the show. As they all got out in their sequined jumpsuits I kept thinking, "Is that him? Is that? Is that?"...But when the Michael got out of the limo there was no mistaking him. He had the most amazing aura I've ever seen on a human being. And I'm not saying that because he's just died. I've told this story to friends many times, and that's what I always remark on: It was like this HUGE cloud of white light emanated from him. Later one of the roadies got me these plastic wrap around sunglasses that he had been wearing and I smelled them over and over again like a smitten teenager. And yes, those would be worth a pretty penny now if my dog hadn't eaten them a few years later. I never believed all those allegations of pedophilia. I think he was literally a little boy inside and incapable of intentionally hurting anyone. Inappropriate and weird? Yes. A predator? Not at all.

So anyway here are what I consider the best Michael Jackson Tribute videos. They are both done by 1500 inmates of the Cebu Provincial Detention & Rehabilitation Center on the east coast of Cebu Island in the Philippines. The first one was a tribute they seemingly choreographed in one day after MJ's death. I cried like a baby watching it (yeah, I'm a pushover for sweet sentiment being dramatized by the criminal element). The one below is their version of Thriller which they apparently did a while ago. It's got everything Thriller should have: spot-on choreography, prison-issue coffins, and an erstwhile Filipino LadyBoy playing the love interest. Enjoy.



P.S. Just had to add this one too:


.
.
.
.
.

A Nice Place To Be Absent From

Right now yet another Glastonbury Festival is kicking off in Glastonbury, England. I'm aware of this fact because I saw a few moments of coverage on the BBC. They were interviewing people for comments on Michael Jackson's death (more on that from me tomorrow). And of course these people were standing in the pouring rain.



I had the displeasure of going to the Glastonbury Festival three different times because I was performing there. First of all, doing comedy shows to audiences of hungover people sitting on burlap sacks in the mud as they wait for the psychedelics to kick in is rather excruciatingly unrewarding, but the worst part for me was being stuck at the festival for three days.

If I hated it so much why did I go back for a second and a third time, you might ask. Well it was because I was overwhelmed with this feeling that I should like it and that I'd somehow just missed something. there were certain people I knew who acted as if it was the most magical thing that ever happened - a gateway to the garden of eden. At the very mention of it they'd get this knowing look in their eye and say, "Ah, Glastonbury". And if I didn't get it it was because, ya know, I just wasn't jiving with the Glastonbury vibe.

Every year that I was there, and apparently all the years that I wasn't, it rained. To me it defies all logic as to why anyone would plan an outdoor music festival in England during their rainiest season. But every year loyal Glastonbury-goers would arrive at the festival totally unprepared and react with shock that it was raining. "Un-fucking-believable", they'd mumble looking at the grey skies, "I absolutely cannot believe it's raining! At Glastonbury!". And then every year there would be the de rigueur people being all spontaneous playing in the mud...



...Every year, just as spontaneous, just like the original spontaneity of those people playing in the mud at Woodstock 40 years ago.

The whole rain thing was tragic on my hair of course. I would always spend the entire weekend looking like an angry blonde Don King.

One year I woke up entirely immersed in water.



I had to take all my clothes, my sleeping bag and everything, and put them on top of my tent hoping they'd dry in the """sun""". Then I had to go buy a bunch of tie-dyed festival clothes so I'd have something warm to wear. Did I bitch and complain? Oh, you betchya. Still the only response I would get from anyone was a glazed over look and a beatific smile as they said, "That's Glastonbury. You've just got to get into the vibe." So I tried. I did try. Apparently getting into the "vibe" means walking around and around and around through crowds of drunk English people in the mud all looking for God-knows-what, so I did that in ernest. Then the nighttime "vibe" consisted of hanging out with a bunch of comics who you always see getting drunk at comedy clubs. But here it was different because they were getting drunk outdoors. In the rain.

When some people I knew were going to watch The White Stripes I forced myself to join in even though I: A) Don't like crowds; B) Am not particularly fond of The White Stripes; and C) Have never understood the concept of standing and watching music in the first place. The upshot was that I ended up watching the "action" on a screen mounted above the stage while standing, literally, in a foot and a half of water. That's Glastonbury! You've just got to get into the vibe...

People would ask me "How's your Glastonbury going?" and I would answer, "I just want it to be over with. I'm cold and bored and all my shoes have got mud in them." Then they'd stare at me shivering in my newly purchased rainbow-colored kaftan and say, "This is Glastonbury. You've just got to get into the vibe."



One year that I was there a fellow comedienne who was a Glastonbury enthusiast found out that I still had an extra Glastonbury ticket as I hadn't used the extra free one I had been given. She went nuts and became obsessed with what I was going to do it. I had had loose plans to give it to a friend who was maybe planning on showing up, but other than that it didn't really matter to me. She was practically tearing her hair out saying, "Do you know how many people would love that ticket!??"...Every time I ran into her she would ask me what was happening with it. It ended up with her screaming at me in a drunken fury saying, "YOU HAVE TO GIVE IT TO SOMEONE!!". She then phoned a friend of hers and told them I would sell it to them for 100 pounds (??!!!). When I tried to explain that I didn't want to sell it, I just didn't know what I was doing with it yet she snapped a synapse and was practically in tears saying, "You have to give it to someone! IT'S GLASTONBURY! YOU'VE GOT TO GET INTO THE VIBE"

It all ended with me giving the ticket to a comic I know while he gave me wounded puppy dog eyes because apparently he'd been told I'd been "talked out of" charging him 100 pounds for it. So I had to stand there covered in mud handing over a ticket I didn't even care about to atone for something I hadn't even done. It was all very surreal. There was nothing to be done but spend the remaining time walking around in the mud getting drunk and acting as if I were having a good time.

And now there's nothing nicer during Glastonbury Festival time than realizing I'm not there! Woo hoo!
.
.
.
.
.

51 or 54?

I get Area 51 and Studio 54 confused. I can be watching a documentary for a half an hour before I figure out which one they were talking about. Sometimes it's hard to tell whether someone is describing a Standard Grey or Andy Warhol.

Please feel free to take my new quiz, "Area 51 or Studio 54?": Answer "51" or "54" or "BOTH" to each question:

1. Alien abductions?

2. Spandex Jumpsuits?

3. Anal probes?

4. Government coverup?

5. Hallucinations?

6. Bianca Jagger?
.
.
.
.
.

These Are the People in my Neighborhood

I haven't blogged in a l-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-n-g time. Here are my reasons:

1) Tony



Tony, (our very wild street cat who only loves me) has been ill. Something with his kidneys which meant I had to stay up with him several nights coaxing him to drink water and giving him sponge baths. He is doing much better now, thank you, and is well on the road to recovery. He's even regained the strength to hiss at Wim which made Wim and I almost cry with happiness. He has no doubt mortgaged 1 or more of his 9 lives in the whole debacle but all is well now.


2) I am fat.


I realize some people might not accept this as an excuse for not writing my blog, but believe me when I say that the effects of my fatness are all-encompassing. I simply cannot lose weight and it's turning me into an obsessive freak. Even though I'm a vegan and I've been keeping my calories down to Weight Watcher's levels, I haven't lost anything! So I started going on long walks. Still nothing! And now it's been three weeks solid that I've been walking 12-16km (about 6 1/2-10 miles) a day and I still haven't lost even a gram. Sure I'm feeling healthier, blah blah blah, but who cares when I look like Jabba the Hut? And it just doesn't make any logical sense. I'M DEFYING THE LAWS OF PHYSICS, PEOPLE! But what can I do but carry on. I'm at my wit's end, believe me.

So anyway I thought I'd share some pictures of things I see during my daily walks:


Ducklings! These guys are everywhere all along the canals. They are cute as hell.
.
.

This pigeon always stands somewhere creative, and I admire him for it.


Here he is on a rainy morning sitting on a rope.


...And here he is on a day he decided to have a friend over.
.
.

Here is a random seating area which I like because of it's sheer silliness. All the benches are aimed at the canal, so short of an inter-boat cannon fight, there really isn't anything to see.
.
.

For a few weeks I would see this poster every day. It frightens me. Does it frighten you?
.
.

Here is a turtle in the canal. Yes, a turtle. Apparently he got there after being flushed down the toilet if I'm to believe the rumors on the street.


Here he is with a friend.
.
.

Here is a fabulous Goose couple who run things on the canals.


This is them in their apartment.


Every year, one Goose selects an unwed duck mother to support. He hangs out with her as she sits on her eggs and all the way until her kids are full grown. I like that the Geese do their bit for the community.
.
.

This guy is amazing. He frightens me a bit because I suspect he might be prehistoric, but so far he hasn't given me a hassle.
.
.

More duckings! Look how tiny they are!
.
.

The ruins of a 1000 year old monastery. Ho-hum.
.
.

Where did the duck get this balloon?
.
.

And finally this street chicken. She is quite possibly the cutest chicken I've ever seen. She lives with some friends in some bushes along a street. I'm not saying where though because I'm sure she doesn't want the publicity. I hope she appreciates how considerate that chubby lady with the camera is.
.
.
.
.
.

A Message To The Dear Reader(s)

I'm going to do another blog entry soon. Really. I've been busy. Don't give up on me.

xoxo

Jovanka
.
.
.
.
.

Just One of Those Freaky Things

So two days ago I'm on my big 16k powerwalk. When I go on these long walks as I've been doing lately, I like to take a backpack with me so I can bring things like my phone, camera, notebook, asthma inhaler, water and collapsible critter rescue case. I bring the latter because being all about the critters as I am I tend to see a lot of them when they are in need (I present the 14 critters currently living in my house as Exhibit "A") and one should always be prepared.

Something else you should know about me is that I am NOT USED TO these walks yet, and by the time I get past the 10k mark I start losing my grip on reality. I know this will pass and I'll soon be jumping around everywhere full of energy, but right now I'm in that adjustment phase of my fitness program where it's more like a Bataan Death March every day and I am in a blistery delirium. I don't have much energy left to expend on lengthy explanations or needless chatter.

So, I was walking along, as I've said, and in a flash of a moment a cyclist came along and just at that moment a bird erroneously stepped into his path and bad things happened. And it all happened right next to me. I gasped loudly and immediately ran towards the bird. The cyclist heard my gasp and came cycling back to where I was. Here's the conversation that happened next:

CYCLIST: What happened?

ME: You hit this bird. I work with the local bird sanctuary and I'm taking her there immediately (as I was saying this I pulled the collapsible critter case out of my backpack).


The truth is that I don't currently work at the local bird sanctuary but I have volunteered there and I knew it was the right place to go. But that would have taken too much energy to explain.


CYCLIST: (Looking bewildered) The bird sanctuary? Where is it?

ME: Merelbeke (a suburb about 10 minutes drive away).

CYCLIST: (Looking slightly frightened) I'm really sorry.

ME: (In an official tone - I'm not sure why) It's not your fault. It was an accident. I must go now.

And with that I walked quickly away with the injured bird in the critter rescue case. It was only much later that it occurred to me just how bizarre the whole thing must have been for the cyclist. He accidentally hit a bird and then literally within seconds someone was there from the local bird sanctuary to collect it. He must still be marveling at the efficiency of Gent City Services.

Unfortunately the little bird died a few minutes later. Possibly in large part as a reaction to the sheer absurdity of the situation.
.
.
.
.
.

A Fresh Look at Carrie

So today I was having a rather difficult "lady time". (There. Now everyone on the internet can chart my menstrual cycle). In an attempt to cheer myself up a bit I went on the television ordering films thingy and found the perfect choice: Carrie (1976). It’s all about a girl who’s life starts going terribly wrong when she gets her period so I thought it would be apropos.

Now here’s what’s weird: I remember when I saw the film way way way back in the day that it was really scary. It gave me nightmares as I recall, and Carrie was really demonic. Now, seeing it this many years later and in my particular “state” I see that she wasn’t demonic at all – she was just misunderstood. She was just super sensitive and everyone was giving her a hard time. So she was a little socially inept? Did those high school bitches really need to expend all that energy terrorizing her? I mean for crying out loud, on top of all the usual teenage angst, she had a completely unsupportive mother.....



......who had to make creepy comments about her prom dress right as she was on her way out the door (”Dirty Pillows!!”), then she goes to the prom, actually starts to have a good time and is just being validated as Prom Queen...



...when some stupid high school chick has to dump a bucket of blood on her and ruin everything.



By the time the slow motion falling bucket had hit her date in the head, I was crying my eyes out. How could these people be so mean? And the thing is that really is how people in high school are. They pick on anyone who is different. If they had just been nice things could have been so wonderful. Maybe she would have brought her prom date home with her and he would have stopped her mother from stabbing her – who knows? But they had to go and ruin everything. By the time Carrie’s telekinesis kicked in and she started slamming all the doors shut I was screaming, “You go girl!” between sobs. Then she had to walk all the way home (Will no one stop to give a ride to a girl wearing a blood-soaked prom dress?) and deal with her bi-polar mother. It all ended very badly, and I was inconsolable, sobbing into my hands. By the time she did the thing where her bloody arm sprung out of the ground and grabbed Amy Irving, I saw it as a rightful posthumous expression of her overwhelming grief. Scary? Not a bit. I could have high-fived the girl.
.
.
.
.
.

Sometimes tragedy is just funny

So this photo was in De Standaard 2 days ago. And yeah, I can appreciate that things are getting really bad. Really, really bad. Everyone's got to be protected from this thing.



I just feel safer knowing that every precaution is being taken.
.
.
.
.
.