The Urban Erma

Happy Father’s Day: Little Miss, Young Miss, Old Miss

When the man walked in every woman’s head simultaneously turned to look at him like we were Stepford-Children of the Corn. It’s unusual to see a man in Claire’s. (Oh, you don’t know what Claire’s is? Then you don’t have a pre-pubescent girl in your life. Well, technically I don’t either, but I used to be one and thus never lost my taste for girly-girl accessories on the cheap.) Even male employees are rare at Claire’s. And the ones they do have don’t usually dress in business suits. We women said nothing out loud but I’m sure our Borg collective thought was: “What are you doing here, Sir? Are you lost?”

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Going Green and Seeing Red

This has probably happened to you too. In fact I know it has. I stuck my hands underneath the automatic faucet in a public bathroom. It’s automatic now because we can’t be trusted on our ownsome to turn on the water, run it at the right speed and temperature, and then turn it off. I’m ever so grateful that someone has put the power of technology behind taking that heavy burden off my mind. My nights now are ever so restful.

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The High Tech Huxtables

Here’s a 21^st century Norman Rockwell moment for you: I was sitting on the couch in between my parents: me with an iPhone, my Mom with an iPad, and my Dad with an iPod.  How I wish I’d gotten a picture of this. What a holiday card that would’ve made. We looked like the high-tech Huxtables. What had happened was…

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In Line, On Line, Off Line

If you have strong feelings about whether we stand in line or on line then you may not want to read this. But I think you’re up to the challenge. I think you can handle me using the terms interchangeably, letting colloquial usage win over grammatical correctness. Welcome: This is how a former English major walks on the wild side.

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http://leighannlord.blogspot.com/2013/05/in-line-on-line-off-line.html

May the Fourth Be With You

I got an email from someone I didn’t know telling me that Martin’s memorial service would be on Saturday. Martin? Martin who? But deep down I knew. I just didn’t want to know. I emailed back and said, “I know several people named Martin. Can you give me a last name?” This was a tad disingenuous. Chalk it up to preemptive denial. There are only four Martins in my address book and I can’t remember who three of them are. The fourth Martin? He is unforgettable.

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In Search of The Black Female Superhero

Happy Mothers Day, Mom. I Love You

Back in the day I was a big fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Xena: The Warrior Princess. My friends knew not to call me when those shows were on. I’d be ensconced in front of the TV watching Buffy and the Scoobies patrol the Sunny Dale Hell Mouth. And who, I ask you who was more bad ass than Lucy Lawless? Perhaps in her case I’m just biased towards women with alliterative names. Lucy Lawless. Leighann Lord. You see, I can always find a way to make it all about me. That’s my gift; my personal superpower if you will. Pardon me while I put on my cape.

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Evolve or Die

I got a chance many years ago to work with one of my favorite political comedians, Barry Crimmins. It was an honor. I had gotten ahold of his comedy tape, Don’t Shoot the Messenger (you heard me, I said tape) and damn near wore it out. Wore it out I tell you. The pleasure of working with him was compounded by the fact that he was a nice guy who didn’t mind talking to a comedy neophyte. We were having a lovely conversation until I innocently asked that if he’d started in comedy clubs, why didn’t he play there more now?

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Tip & Tell

Stand-up comedians aren’t normally on the list of folks who work for tips but it happens. It’s a nice, unexpected bonus considering that we don’t always get paid for performing. In fact, early on, it is often we who have to pay for the privilege. Getting a cash tip then is actually a step up.

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What I Wish I Knew My First Year Doing Stand-Up

On March 31 I celebrated my stand-up comedy anniversary. I won’t give you a year, but let’s just say, it’s been a minute. And so to commemorate the event, I am reposting a piece I wrote back in 2009.

I received an email from two gentlemen who were teaching a stand-up comedy class to high school students. They asked me for some advice to share with their aspiring young comics. I asked if it was too late to urge them to choose a different career, something safer, like a fireman; easier like a brain surgeon; or more stable, like a mortgage banker.

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Spring Cleaning My Address Book (Updated*)

(*In honor of spring, I’ve reaching into The Urban Erma archives and updated an article that I first posted on the blog in March 2007.  And by updated I mean removed the references to my Palm Pilot, BlackBerry, and MySpace.)

Weighing in at over 4,000 personal and business contacts, my address book is officially out of control. It’s the electronic equivalent of the mafia: once you get in, you never get out. I’m reasonably friendly and outgoing, but I don’t think it’s humanly possible to personally know 4,004 people. In real space that’s a 22-pound Rolodex. One shouldn’t have a phone book the size of the phone book.  So, it’s time to do a little spring cleaning.

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