Elected 03 - Ted Alexandro

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=1kSxJ4GL5cs

9:42 AM - 8 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

Bathing In Wonder

I just got back from the gym (legs and abs, for those of you who are wondering- but that's not the point of this blog). As I was finishing up showering it occurred to me how hurried and distracted I had been throughout the process. My mind was drifting to a thousand other things than what I was actually doing, showering at the end of a long day- which was supposed to be a cleansing, somewhat cathartic process.
Now that I have three nephews, ages four, two and one and a half, their presence in my life affects my perceptions and interpretations of so many day to day things. It dawned on me that bathing myself had become this mindless, distracted, disconnected process.
If I were to help bathe one of my little nephews it would be such a gentle, affectionate ritual of love. Every finger, every toe would be cherished as it was scrubbed. Every hair would be a wonder, the softness of their skin would be marveled at. My mind would not be preoccupied or distracted, I would be present and aware throughout the entire process, filled with joy and appreciation.
Do I not owe it to myself to be as gentle, as loving, as kind to myself as I am to a baby? I think the same basic idea carries over to the way that I talk to myself, too, those ongoing internal conversations you have with yourself throughout the day. Should I not be as reassuring, as supportive of myself as I am of my beautiful nephews? I am, for the most part, but sometimes it's so good to be reminded.
I've been very much interested in the brain lately. I read "The Brain That Changes Itself" and yesterday I watched "Change Your Brain, Change Your Life" on PBS. It offered so many great insights regarding our brain and the things we can do daily to improve our own brain fitness. It reminded me to be aware of each moment and appreciate it, not being bogged down by the past or the future. Even the simple act of showering, if I am truly present and aware, can be a ritual of self love (not that kind) and a celebration of the wonder of life, of me.
I emerged from the shower feeling renewed; of clean and body and spirit. Perhaps for the first time I understood the "Beyond" portion of "Bed, Bath & Beyond". I hope to rinse and repeat, continuing my journey toward awareness and enlightenment.

12:43 AM - 20 Comments - 16 Kudos - Add Comment

Ms. Palin If You’re Nasty

Like a lot of Americans, I am intrigued by the Republican Vice-Presidential nominee, Sarah Palin. I honestly don't know enough about her, though. What I do know is that she's from Alaska, which isn't saying much. I don't even think they have tivo up there yet. I heard they just got the first Harry Potter movie.
We know her daughter's a whore. Although to be fair, getting pregnant at seventeen is actually late for an Alaskan girl. It's like frontier times up there, anything goes.
We know she's a self proclaimed "hockey mom". Well, how about a goalie for your daughter's poon? He shoots! He scores!!!
And, of course, the biggest thing we know about Palin is she's pretty hot. Lost in all the talk about "historical firsts" in this election- first black candidate, first woman candidate- is the first Vice-Presidential candidate guys can legitimately masturbate to. I know the Walter Mondale people will disagree but it's true, she's the first. Not since Sonny Bono was mayor of Palm Springs have we had a politician we could even consider masturbating to.
So I will continue to listen and keep an open mind. As I've said many times, I hope to see a black president in my lifetime. More importantly, I hope to see one in John McCain's lifetime.
But if on the eve of the election, Ms. Palin strategically lets down her bun, takes off her glasses and, in sultry tones, asks for my vote on a late night infomercial, I will have to take that into account when deciding what direction I think is best for my country.

1:22 PM - 12 Comments - 32 Kudos - Add Comment

What a Difference a Day Makes

Last night, while driving home from my 10:25 spot at the Comedy Cellar, I heard a loud rumbling. I turned the radio down and realized that I was driving on a flat tire. Shit. Luckily I was about seven blocks from my apartment so I parked the car and walked the rest of the way home.
I woke up this morning feeling unmotivated. I hit the snooze button five or six times and finally got out of bed around 10:30. I wasn't in the mood for much of anything, it just felt like one of those days where you wake up annoyed. I knew I had to get my flat fixed but that seemed like such a big production. Perhaps I wouldn't even bother. Maybe I'd just leave the car there all day and take care of it the next day.
My friend Jon Fisch texted me around noon asking if I wanted to meet up for sushi. Perfect. I hadn't seen Jonny in a while and this would be a good way to ease into my day, fish with Fisch.
I mentioned that I had a flat and Jon told me about a place nearby that fixes flats fast and cheap. After a nice lunch, talking comedy and life as we always do, I decided to snap to it and take care of the tire.
Sure enough, when I got there an old Greek guy popped out like a NASCAR pit crew and immediately started unscrewing the lug nuts on my tire.
"Wow", I thought. "Jonny wasn't kidding".
Ten minutes and a hundred bucks later I had a brand new right rear tire and I was back on the road. Sometimes things aren't nearly as overwhelming as you anticipate them being.
Tonight I was once again scheduled for the 10:25 at the Cellar. I only recently started working the Cellar again after a few years away, partly my own doing and partly circumstances beyond my control. It has been fantastic being back there, a real shot in the arm and  reminder that things happen on their own time (the right time) as long as you keep doing your thing. There is something about that club and that location. It's pure electricity.
After last night's tire incident I decided to bike into the city tonight, about seven and a half miles from door to door. I left my apartment around 9:25, leaving me an hour. The late summer, early autumn cool night air would be perfect for a bike ride and I wouldn't be a sweaty mess when I arrived.
I rode over the 59th Street Bridge, from Queens into Manhattan, and then down into the village, arriving around 10:20. I locked up my bike a few blocks from the club on a quiet side street and walked over from there.
Nick DiPaolo was onstage finishing up his set. The show was running a little late, which isn't unusual. Keith Robinson would follow Nick and then I would go on. William Stephenson, the emcee for the evening, ambled over to me. "Robin Williams might be stopping by. He's supposed to be here any minute."
"Okay, cool," I replied.
I had mixed feelings. I was excited because Robin Williams was going to be performing and I'd never seen him live. But the comic in me was thinking "I hope I get to go .. he gets here". When a celebrity stops by you either get bumped off the show or they do a long set and you have to go after them in front of a crowd that has already orgasmed, comedically.
Although, sometimes it's fun to try to follow a celebrity on stage. Coming up in NY I've had that experience countless times and it's always challenging, exciting, unpredictable and interesting. I've had to follow the likes of Jerry Seinfeld, Chris Rock, Adam Sandler, Ray Romano and Dave Chappelle, with varying outcomes. Once you've followed comics of that caliber you're pretty much ready for anything.
Keith finished up his set and still no sign of Robin Williams so I would go on now. William gave me a heads up "I'll light you when Robin arrives", meaning the signal to wrap up my set. I did about seven or eight minutes and felt a distinct energy to my set because I knew Robin Williams would be arriving any minute, which provided an extra shot of adrenaline. Soon after, I noticed the unmistakeable silhouette of Robin Williams in the back of the room. Very cool.
I was doing some political material and saw William giving me the light so I wrapped it up and got off stage. I walked over to Robin Williams, who was standing in the hallway, and shook his hand. "It's a pleasure", I said.
"Thanks for letting me on. I'm sorry if they cut your time," he said.
"No, no. No problem. It's great to see you."
"We'll see", he said. And with that he was off to the stage.
He did about a half and hour and it was a real treat to watch him work, especially at the Cellar where the audience is so close it can be like trench warfare.
Sometimes he lapses into his "stock voices" and his "Robin Williams things" but the man has a sweet, inventive, funny spirit and really works it hard up there. He's fantastic. At one point I was reminded of the scene in "Good Morning, Vietnam" where his character talks to the soldiers from the back of a truck. You could tell that they just rolled the cameras and let him go and the soldiers' reactions were all genuine. I was watching peoples' faces tonight as they were laughing and smiling, enjoying a special surprise moment in their lives, watching a comedy legend perform. I felt lucky, too.
I left the Cellar, got back on my bike and started my ride home. The song "What a Difference a Day Makes" came into my mind.
"Twenty-four little hours".
Rather than driving home on a flat tire like the night before, I pedaled home on my bicycle, my spirit buoyed by the gift of my career and the magic moments it provides. Keep getting out of bed, Teddy. Keep showing up because you never know the miracles that await.

2:19 PM - 30 Comments - 25 Kudos - Add Comment

Important Message

I have tried to keep this situation private but it is apparent that that is no longer possible. I initially thought it was best to ignore the rumors and let people think what they want, but I now realize it has taken on a life of its own and I have no choice but to address this matter. I would like to state, unequivocally and for the record, that I am not pregnant. Furthermore, the fictional fetus is not half-black, as has been rumored, nor is it a quarter mestizo indian, which has not been rumored.
Shame on those who started and perpetuated these rumors for their own amusement or gain. Peoples' lives are affected and forever changed by these nefarious fabrications. I don't know how these people sleep at night or what their sleep schedules are, for that matter. Perhaps they are up all night concocting these ridiculous lies and they sleep during the day. No matter, I will not stand idly by and let my character, or that of my fictional baby, be falsely attacked.
To my family, friends and fans, thank you for standing by me during what has been one of the most difficult periods of my career/life. I will never forget the cards, letters, emails and texts I received. I didn't receive any pages because it's 2008 and if you still have a pager I don't want to be your friend. But seriously, you (and my sense of humor) are truly what has kept me going during a dark and difficult period. Again, there is no baby so please stop sending stuffed animals or baby shoes. While small and cute, I have no use for them at this time.
I have learned a lot and grown stronger from this and I promise to return more determined than ever. If and when a baby comes into my life you will be the first to know as I will alert you through the appropriate outlets, my website or blog.

12:22 AM - 33 Comments - 30 Kudos - Add Comment

Show Business, Baby

I was thinking about the many gigs I have played along the way at some of the more interesting or odd venues. I would imagine if someone sees you on television or at a top notch comedy club they don't realize the checkered road you took to get there.
Among the venues I have performed at in my fourteen years as a comedian are a laundromat, donut shop, Chinese restaurant, bowling alley, churches, synagogues, someone's living room and countless bars and restaurants.
The laundromat was a show that a couple of comedians put together in NYC. It was bizarre and interesting and makes for a better story than show. Imagine trying to make people laugh while they're doing their laundry. It's the very thing I would expect to see on a reality show and the reason I refuse to do those shows, yet when I was asked to perform there I jumped at the opportunity. As long as nobody documents it, I'm okay with losing my dignity.
The donut shop and bowling alley were similar situations. Comedians are always looking for a stage time and, in that endless quest, they wind up putting on shows anywhere they can. Then they ask their friends to perform on the show and the next thing you know you're headlining a bowling alley. That was actually pretty fun, as I recall. Hot crowd; very attentive despite the clamoring of falling pins in the next room.
The church and synagogue gigs were adequate. Obviously, you rule out certain material at those types of gigs. The Jesus abs/Jesus would work the balls bit didn't make the cut for those shows, nor did the Mardi Gras/prison rape bits. At those gigs the goal is "get through it, don't offend and get the check".
The show in someone's living room was probably the weirdest. About ten years ago, I got a call from some agent to do a bachelorette party, which may sound fun in theory, but it was for a woman in her forties on her second marriage and the show would be in her living room. I took it because when you're starting out you take any gig that comes along.
I drove out to the house, somewhere on Long Island of course, and the next thing I knew I was in this living room surrounded by a semi-circle of older women, performing my act. I remember it going reasonably well under the circumstances but we were all aware that this was probably a bad idea. I felt like, had I been a stripper, it was probably the perfect set up but for a comedian it was less than ideal.
Performing was uncomfortable but not nearly as uncomfortable as waiting to go on. Usually at a real show there's some sort of backstage or green room so you can be alone before you go on and collect your thoughts. But with this, I was hanging out in the kitchen with the lady's grandmother and aunt or something. There was a painfully awkward exchange about my being "the comedian" and then it was showtime so I had to take my leave of them and head to the living room.
All of these gigs were worthwhile in their own way and I wouldn't change a thing. The early years are all about survival and passing each test as it presents itself. A friend once told me that, eventually, it all weaves into the tapestry of your accumulated experience. Like a tapestry, when viewed from a distance rather than right up close it makes a lot more sense and can appear beautiful.
That said, I'm glad the days of living room gigs are behind me. At least, I hope so.

9:44 PM - 23 Comments - 16 Kudos - Add Comment

Roo-Roo

My grandmother turned ninety-nine in March. Her name is Ruth but most people, including her eighteen grandchildren, call her Roo-Roo. That name came about when, as children, our attempts at pronuncing Ruth came out as "Roo" and then morphed to Roo-Roo.
Roo-Roo is a miracle, a true dynamo of spirit and love. Since I was a child her presence always meant fun, freedom and possibility. My mother once wrote a beautiful poem about Roo that captured her essence. I remember one of the lines saying "When Roo-Roo comes our home becomes a wonderland". That is still true.
My brother recently suggested "Who knows if you become a comedian without the influence of Roo-Roo?" I agree. Her spirit of mischief and fun are part of my DNA and I am so grateful for that. She embodies a philosophy of hope, survival and never taking life or yourself too seriously, which is essential to comedy.
Some time around her ninety-second birthday Roo-Roo informed us that she would like to be called "Morning Dew Hibiscus", with no further explanation. I would receive letters and cards in the mail from Roo-Roo signed with her new alias "Morning Dew Hibiscus". That might seem bizarre or perhaps a red flag of waning mental health for anyone else but for Roo-Roo it was the opposite; a confirmation that she was the very same wacky, silly, unique individual still reinventing herself into her nineties.
My mother, brother and I recently visited Roo-Roo at the assisted living residence that she calls home. We usually take her out to lunch at the Olive Garden for her favorite, mussels and zinfindel. Roo-Roo orders the same thing every time but yet when we sit down she always peruses the menu, asking "What looks good today?" I can't help but laugh; she acts as though she is carefully weighing her options (perhaps she is) but ultimately orders the very same mussels and zinfindel.
My mother told me of a recent trip in the car, driving Roo-Roo back home. The GPS, in an english woman's voice, was instructing my mother where and when to turn. Roo-Roo was fascinated by this and asked my mother "Do you always listen to her, Patty?"
My mother, not at all phased by such a question coming from Roo, answered "Most of the time, yes. Unless I'm familiar with the area and know a better way, then I'll make my own decision."
To which Roo-Roo replied, in all sincerity, "You're so good with relationships."
If we are good with relationships it's thanks in no small measure to you, Roo-Roo. You have left us a marvelous blueprint for a life of love and happiness.
May we all be as good with relationships and as graceful with living life as you, our beautiful and precious Morning Dew Hibiscus.

8:20 PM - 25 Comments - 18 Kudos - Add Comment

It Ain’t Easy Being Handsome

There is an italian deli in my neighborhood that prepares amazing heroes. They have dozens of different sandwiches, each with its own original fun name. Some are named for celebrities, such as the "Robert DeNiro" or the "Ed Burns", who coincidentally co-starred in the very forgettable and aptly named "15 Minutes".
I usually order the "Maria's Hero", which is breaded eggplant with red peppers, arugula, tomatoes and a nice balsamic vinaigrette.
The guy who works the register is the owner and he's italian-american, heavy on the italian. I always feel like I have to amp up my italianness (or italian-americanness) when I go in there. I'll throw out a "How ya doooin'?" when I enter, just to keep up. I'm always a little scared he'll figure out my game and expose me for the fraud that I am but it's exhilarating to live dangerously and see how long I can keep it going.
One bit of information that bears mentioning is that the owner almost always addresses me as "handsome".
"How are ya, handsome? Will that be all?"
I'm always a little thrown and yet secretly thrilled that he addressed me as "handsome". But what sucks is I get spoiled and expect it every time and sometimes, for whatever reason, he doesn't say it. Maybe he's busy or didn't look up and see me, who knows. But this leads to frantic self-examination, trying to figure out why I didn't rate a "handsome" that day. Is it my outfit? Should I have trimmed my beard?
Recently I went in and ordered my typical "Maria's", which I shorten it to now. While the guy behind the counter was making my hero I went over to the owner to make polite conversation and go "handsome" fishing. I got my handsome but not in the way I expected.
The European Soccer Championships were being played and I knew that Italy had just been eliminated so I figured I could work that in.
"How ya doooin'? Italy had a tough loss, huh?"
"Yeah, they're no good. They're a bunch of drama queens. Everything's a big drama."
"Yeah", I said, not really knowing what he was talking about.
"And that Toni... Luca Toni? He didn't do anything!"
"I know". I didn't really know.
"He's out there with his hair! That's all he cares about. He's so fuckin' handsome!"
What? I was at a loss. I had no idea how to respond to this one so I just let it hang. But he kept going.
"His fuckin' hair is so long and beautiful. He don't care!"
"No, I guess not."
"Alright, handsome. Six dollars."
Now I was confused. Is being handsome good or bad? He was just very angry at Luca Toni for being handsome and now he's lumping me in, too. But I hardly have any hair at all, so I guess it was more about the way Toni plays than his being handsome.
Anyway, I'll keep going in and keep pretending to be more italian than I am and keep hoping to be called handsome. Maybe, if all goes well, someday I'll look up at the menu and see that the "Maria's Hero" has been renamed "The Handsome".
One can dream.

11:35 AM - 28 Comments - 15 Kudos - Add Comment

Summer Sun, Somethin’s Begun

I have decided to have a fun summer. I am going to do things and try things and go places. My life is ordinarily pretty fun but I'm going to kick it up a notch and have as much fun as I can stand. I'm going to explore New York City and do whatever the hell I feel like doing. I'm going to push myself out of my comfort zone and allow myself to feel awkward and uncomfortable.
Tonight I took break dancing lessons. I noticed in TimeOut NY the other day that they give free break dancing lessons at McCarren Park in Brooklyn. Mind you, I'm an original b-boy from back in the day. My street cred was forever established when my brother and I rapped at the Apollo in the late 80s as "Brotherly Love". Royal Tee and MC Mellow tore it up that night, even if the vociferous crowd didn't see it that way.
My break dancing has never been quite where I've wanted it to be so when I saw that listing my first reaction was "That sounds like fun!" Then my second reaction was "You can't go to break dancing lessons, for godsakes!" Then my third reaction was "Fuck that! Yes, you can! You're going!"
So I went. It was awesome. There were a bunch of guys and girls dancing on linoleum and they clearly knew what the hell they were doing. Then a group of about twenty of us who were not so accomplished got into rows for the class. A short muscular dude started teaching the class and slowly going through moves.
I felt really stiff and awkward at first. The asian dude to my left and russian girl to my right were clearly better than I.
I was reminded of my musical theater days when I had to learn dances and it always seemed to come slowly. But I can move pretty well and once I get it, I start to throw in my own flourishes, which I think the teacher appreciated and respected.
I couldn't do a lot of the stuff on the floor because, with my 6'1" frame, my long legs seemed to keep getting tangled up underneath me. But I felt good about my standing dance shit. I was throwin' down, yo. I represented Queens, that's for damn sure.
Next on my radar is Warm Up at P.S. 1. It's a summer music/dance series at P.S. 1 in Long Island City on Saturdays. I plan to do the adult swim in Astoria Park pool a few mornings this summer. I did it last summer and stayed in the slow lane with the old people. I also noticed an offering for free kayaking in the east river, which sounds like it's right up my alley.
And so my summer of fun is officially underway. I want to live! I want to suck the marrow out of life! I want to feel uncomfortable, awkward and alive!!! And if all goes well, live to tell about it!

12:32 AM - 26 Comments - 16 Kudos - Add Comment

A Week In the Life

I had a very interesting week in comedy. I am now officially in the Guiness Book of World Records for the longest continuous standup comedy show. But more on that later.
Last Tuesday I performed at a fundraiser  for the National Committee for the Furtherance of Jewish Education. The gig was at the Edison Ballroom, which is located in the Theater District in Times Square. I walk into the theater about a half an hour before show time and seated before me at banquet tables are no fewer than three hundred orthodox jewish people. I'm talking men with black hats and/or yarmulkas and beards and their very conservatively dressed wives or significant others.
A wave of panic washes over me. I wonder if I'm in the right place but it's a fundraiser for the Furtherance of Jewish Education and these are clearly jewish people. I guess I just wasn't expecting them to be that jewish. The event coordinator came over and I extended my hand. She shook her head and said "I don't shake". I remembered that it is part of their religion not to shake a man's hand.
That first happened to me when I was in college. I was in education classes with an orthodox jewish girl and we were relatively good friends. At the end of the semester we were all saying goodbye and I went in to give her a kiss on the cheek. She all but shrieked and pulled away, horrified. I was confused and humiliated, not realizing that she wasn't allowed to touch a man. That was my introduction to the rules of jewish orthodoxy regarding conduct between men and women, and not a bad representation of my interactions with girls of all faiths.
Anyway, the woman told me I would be doing about twenty minutes and asked that I please keep it "corporate/family clean". I said "Absolutely" and began to rack my brain for what I could possibly say to make these people (not "these people" but these particular people) laugh.
I said to myself "You can either put it in the tank now and expect to bomb or go out there and give it your best shot". I had a few minutes to myself before the rabbi introduced me so I sat quietly and considered what to open up with.
A few minutes later, after the auction, the rabbi introduced me. I took the stage to a nice round of applause and thanked the rabbi.
"It is my great pleasure to be with you tonight. I appreciate you having me as your token gentile. I realize how difficult it is to find a jewish comedian."
The crowd laughed and clapped, the ice was broken and I went into my teaching material, which I figured would be appropriate for an education fundraiser. It went great. The crowd was attentive, appreciative and really fun. I couldn't have hoped for it to go any better.
One of the great things about being a standup comedian is that you're constantly learning lessons, or I should say you're given the opportunity to learn lessons. When I walked into that ballroom I was very nervous and anxious, questioning whether I would be able to entertain a group of people who were obviously different than I. But I decided not to dwell on that, instead focusing on how I could best do my job and reach out to them. As a result it wound up being a positive, affirming experience rather than a self-fulfilling prophecy of failure.
Afterwards the rabbi shook my hand and thanked me for a "job well done. You were not only funny but respectful and classy."
"Thank you, rabbi. Thank you."
Now for the World Record. The Comic Strip decided to put together a show lasting fifty consecutive hours to raise money for the Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund, for wounded military personnel and their families having trouble with expenses. It was a highlight of my comedy career. The vibe surrounding the entire event was one of comaraderie and positivity, two things that are occasionally lacking in the comedy world.
I was fortunate enough to be selected to perform two sets during the three day period, one at 8:30am and the other in the final hour of the show at 9:30pm. The morning set was bizarre and fun. There were about fifteen scattered people in the crowd and they couldn't have been more psyched and energized. I had a blast.
The 9:30pm set was fun, too, especially because we were in the home stretch and the record was in sight.
William Stephenson, with whom I have become good friends over my fourteen years on the NY comedy scene, was the host of the entire fifty hour show and did so with the style and humor that only he can bring. I was proud to share the stage with him and all the other great comics who lent their talents to this amazing event.
It was a great week in comedy. Sometimes you just do your job and grind along like the professional you are. Other times, when you're lucky, you are part of something special and it makes you a better comic and a better person.
I am grateful to be part of this profession.

5:08 PM - 19 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment