All good waits must come to an end....

Back on Feb 16th of this year, I thought that it would be a good idea to take all of the thoughts and feelings and musings that were rattling around in my head an put them into blog form, in order to give voice to the many other Conan O'Brien fans whom I knew were feeling just as lost as I was. At that time, the wait for his return seemed interminable. Now, leaping forward through the time and space of all that has occurred since my first "Waiting for Coco" blog, the journey seems to have flown by in a blur of tour buses and Twitter accounts and soapy desks and squirrels and Taurus SHOs and one great big red pompadour. Like most long treks, it is both a relief to find our way to the finish, and shock to see how far we've come. There is joy intermingled with sadness, excitement laced with snippets of fear. This is it, for good or bad, for all it's worth, we are here. We've arrived. Nov 8th, 2010 (that's this year, folks.) The day the wait for Coco ends.

It is impossible to arrive at such a long-anticipated day and not reflect on the milestones we've passed along the way. Did we really stay up until all hours of the night, voting for Conan to be one of Time's most influential persons of the year, pausing only pop back on the I'm With Coco board to share amusing captchas? (My personal favorite was "ask McCann.") Could we possibly have found the guts and gumption to email folks at NBC to tell them what a mistake they made, or later Fox, to tell them what a catch our Mr. O'Brien would be? (And then TBS swooped in out of the blue for the win.....who had THAT on their radar??) Could I have actually witnessed entertainment history being made when his comedy tour sold out in hours with not one word of official promotion, and was I honestly lucky enough to have gotten tickets? (I was, and my husband and I were in a daze watching the tour come alive right before our eyes.)

There were so many other moments - the 60 minutes interview, the Live Coco Cam, the epic TBS promos, the crazy contests, the Bley, the music, the fun, the tears. If you want to relive them all in chronological order, feel free to pop back and peruse some of the past "Waiting for Coco" blogs. It's a trip, it really is, to see how "I'm With Coco" evolved from a grouping of outraged and lost fans into an army of rejoicing Coconuts, all of us preparing with glee for tonight's viewing. Once again, for the umpteenth time in nine months, we get to be ringside as entertainment history is made. I don't dare to even try and guess what kinds of things will be crossing my TV screen in a mere matter of hours.....If I have learned anything about Team Coco, it is that they can take the highest expectations and exceed them well beyond anything my little imagination can conjure. All I can say for absolute 100% certain is that tonight, Conan is going to have fun on television. And I am going watch. And I am going to love every laugh, and remember not to take a one of them for granted.

The "Wait" is almost over....

My goodness, fellow Coconuts, Cocofiles, Conandos, and Soldiers in the Conan Army. Look how far we've come. The wait for Coco has now ticked down to one month. 31 short days until we can park our posteriors on our respective couches and watch our Ginger Giant make his glorious return. Or, for a select and VERY lucky few, 31 days until the seats of Stage 15 on the Warner Bros. lot are filled with an audience poised to witness television history unfold before their very eyes.
What a trip it has been, eh fellow travelers of Coco Road? We've seen beards, bands, tours, Tweets, squirrels, an inflatable bat, the 60 minutes interview, trunk-yogurt, Jim Carrey dressed as Superman, an appendix scar, a chair shaped like a high-heeled shoe, Time Magazine, the most glorious washing of a desk in the history of desk washing, string dancing, Bieber-dissing, a huge-ass sub sandwich, and now a blimp. An honest-to-God blimp. It is orange and everything. We've experienced much wonder since January 22nd of this year, and it only looks as if it will get better, OH SO MUCH BETTER, from here on out. Every day opens up new and exciting opportunities to enter and enjoy the world of "Conan." (The show. And kind of the person, although we should respect his privacy and refrain from actually "entering" his anything.) Do things this awesome-arific really exist in the sad and bogus world in which we live? I say we dare to believe it. It might be cynical not to.
On a personal note, I have slowed way down on writing these blog-posts, my words lamenting the absence of our hero. Why? Because actually, they really aren't needed anymore. On kind of a nostalgic whim, I read back through all 30+ posts, the first written on Feb 16th when we were in TOTAL darkness about Conan and his future, the following posts documenting the milestones between those unsure days and these amazing ones. At that time, with so much uncertainty, I felt that a blog would help us to gather our thoughts, to make a game plan, and to patiently wait for the next bit of news. I felt like I was providing a service of sorts....putting voice to some of the feelings we were all having. Reading back on some of them....boy, I was pissed! Wow. I barely recognize myself in some of the rants. But that anger needed to be vented, in order to get me, get us, from then....to now.
The "now" portion of our journey is amazing. We have a new show on the horizon with tons of photos, commercials, and behind-the-scenes sneak-peeks to keep us occupied in the meantime. And that brings me to the biggest (and bestest) reason I that I don't write so much anymore....Aaron Bleyaert, our beloved Bley (or Bley-Bley, or Bley-Bear, or whatever you like best) is the world's most amazing and talented blogger, and he keeps us up on any and every detail of any and everything that is going on with Conan, the show, or life in general. Any attempt by me to reiterate his info would fall flat in comparison. Like a deflated blimp. Sadness.
You see, at one time there was an "us" and a "them" in the world of Team Coco. We were separated by gag orders and legal jargon and time. While Bley wrote about what was going on in their camp, I would try to answer with my own tales of the wait. But now, in these last few weeks, our worlds have converged, and there is no "we" and "they." Bley now speaks for all of us, about the goings-on of "our" world. He has brought us into the fold....heck, he even created a "Fan Friday" post wherein we get celebrated! And, a thingy where we can ask Conan questions (which I think is called the "Ask Conan Thingy.") It's like we have so much access, listening to me drone on would be redundant and sad. And redundant. So I will allow Bley to weave his magical tales of television, and I will sit down and enjoy the show. (Not to say that I might not pop up now and again, to share my thoughts....but I promise to make them relevant. And short. Oh God yes, short would be wonderful.....)

I get a little pissy at 1am....

You know those "days" that you have? Not really super bad days where you drive past a cemetery and think "lucky bastards...." Not the kind of days that make you drink or cry or hit things....No, that would actually bring release and relief and you wouldn't be up at 1am, furiously pounding your keyboard while simultaneously eating nacho cheese dip straight from the jar. I am talking about the irritating days, the annoying days, the days that buzz and drip and drone and rub just enough to make you realize that you NEED comfort. You need to surround yourself with the things that make you happy and safe. And then you find that someone ate all the chocolate chip cookies, and your comfy sweat pants are dirty....AND THERE IS NO CONAN O'BRIEN ON TV ANYWHERE!! And there won't be any Conan O'Brien on TV for something like 81 days. Then you get this little facial tick, this little twitch in your eye. You can actually feel your heart pounding in your chest. It's not fair, a voice screeches in your mind. Not fair, not fair, not fair!!

And that is when the little selfish elf that lives in deep your brain tunnels his way to the surface. He isn't happy. He didn't want to share those cookies. He stamps his foot when he discovers no one else did laundry to wash the sweats. He is so impudent and childish that you hate to mention the Conan thing. The silence is deafening as he considers this information. His face turns from pink to red to purple while a huge vein pops out on his forehead. No Conan? NO CONAN??? As he screams his terrible rages, he starts ripping and throwing and destroying everything in his path. WHY NOT?? WHERE IS CONAN?? You explain that he had to leave TV for awhile, that it wasn't his fault, and that he will be back in November. NOT SOON ENOUGH cries the elf, now in a full-body fury, throwing furniture and ripping up family photos. I WANT HIM NOW!!! Amidst the tornado of feathers and torn paper and elfin spit, you realize that being ugly about it isn't going to solve anything. Calmly, you talk the elf down from the ceiling fan, offer him other cookies (not chocolate chip, but made in a hollow tree, of course) and gently coax him back into the deep recesses of your mind. Oddly, despite the the ruckus and the drama, you do feel a lot better. You decide that some things, some very special people, are worth the wait. You also decide to work on a better metaphor than the stupid elf thing, because it was pretty damn weak, even by 1am standards...

Oobla-dee Oobla-dah, life goes ooo-nnn

In cartoons, when the characters are waiting for something exciting to happen, they simply stare at the clock and the hands start to spin wildly. Or, they watch as the calendar pages fly off the wall while the seasons flicker past outside the window. This wonderful trick of time does not translate as well to real life. I've been staring at my calendar as hard as is possible, concentrating on getting the days to start blurring toward November, when Conan and crew will premiere their highly anticipated new show on TBS. And so far, nothing. Nada. For a month to "fly by," it takes roughly a month to do so. Bugs Bunny can suck my big fat carrot.
However, it does seem kind of foolhardy to wish precious time away. Life is, as the t-shirts so introspectively put it, short. Would I really want to be able to push a mystical "fast forward" button and get to November 8th immediately? What about all of the "stuff" that I would miss along the way? No, we Coconuts have lives to lead, and while we are very excited to see what our Fearless Leader has in store for us, we have actual "things" to do between now and then.
I personally am just about to embark on a family trek from our homestead in Oregon to the vast wonderland that is the Yellowstone National Park. We are packing up lock, stock, and Nintendo and cramming our minivan full of people and crap and we'll be off on a grand adventure that we'll one day speak of fondly.....I hope. We are also venturing down to California before returning to hearth and home. Our kids will have a lot to say in their "What I did over Summer Vacation" essays, and my husband and I will have more souvenir doo-dads to hang on the wall and admire while we get drunk. And when it all is over and done, we will be THAT much closer to November.
Before the summer is over, we plan a few little local excursions, including a visit to the county fair, a picnic at a historic fort, some beach trips, and a matinee movie or two. And when all of that has passed into memory....we will be even THAT much closer to November.
September will bring lots of excitement around here as we prepare to return to school - the kids to their respective grades and me as the assistant to a brand-spanking new teacher in our building. Also, before the month is out, our daughter will turn six years old! My gosh, she's growing fast. And while she's blowing out the candles on her princess cake, I will will quickly calculate the days until November arrives.
October is always a very full month, what with Halloween costumes to buy and pumpkins to carve and candy to eat (er, purchase.) The Fall decorations will come out, the leaves will start to turn their gorgeous autumn colors, AND IT WILL FINALLY FRICKIN' ALMOST BE NOVEMBER!!
And when November does dawn, when the calendar page finally flips to that auspicious month, we will all collectively celebrate....while wondering how it arrived so quickly. Life truly can be a "blink and you miss it" kind of situation. Maybe Bugs Bunny knew what he was talking about after all. Stupid wise-ass rabbit....

I am doing MUCH better now......Sorta......

If you are a returning reader of this blog (yeah right Valerie, like people come BACK) then you may remember that waaayyyyy back in March I wrote a little something about the big-chinned entity who naturally evolved as bad guy from the whole Tonight Show fiasco, and how some folk are able to maturely and rationally regard said villain. I also revealed that I am not one of those people. I lack the chromosome which allows the turning of the other cheek. I envied then, as I do now, the ability to go merrily forward without an ill thought for this individual. However, I am happy to report that in the three+ months since I first wrote those words, I have grown in many ways. While I still do carry an immense and intense burning hatred deep in the bowels of my....well, bowels....I have learned to move forward. I can go for days without ranting and raging. I can pass white-haired gentlemen without tripping them to the ground and beating them about the face and chin with their own cane. I can use the proper names for bathroom duties without substituting the scoundrel in question's name...(i.e. "I just took the biggest Leno you've ever seen, it took THREE flushes!") So I do believe that under normal circumstances, I am actually doing very well. Normal circumstances being those in which "That Guy's" name or visage do not pop up. Especially unexpectedly. And believe me....they do.

Take for instance this past Saturday. My dear Hubby and I loaded the kids into the minivan, and we took a nice country drive to visit Hub's dear Granny on the occasion of her 85th birthday. The party was held at my husband's aunt's farmhouse, which boasts rolling green hills and large, lumbering Walnut trees. The weather was perfect, the kids played happily with their cousins all day without incident, the food was divine, the family drama was nil...(Even though Granny DID try to sucker me into a conversation about how good other people look after losing a lot of weight. I simply stuffed my cupcake in my mouth and nodded....) It was, by most definitions, a perfect day. As the afternoon wound into evening, we started loading the kids into our respective vehicles and circled around for one last BS session before hitting the road. Someone brought up a TV show, then another was mentioned, and finally Hub's uncle asked if any of us were BBC America's "Top Gear" fans. We all assented that indeed we were. We started offering up our favorite episodes, etc. That was when Hub's uncle innocently announced "You know, Jay Leno says that it is his favorite show."

Here is how I saw things. My own universe stopped in that second. Everyone else around me continued to talk and laugh, in kind of a warped slow-motion-y way. The conversation continued on, away from that one horrible off-hand mention, but it had been enough to make my brain miss a gear change, and I was grinding in neutral. It was then, as I struggled, that I took note of my husband. He had frozen. He was looking at me with an expression that was a mixture of terror and dread. He did not know what I was going to do or say. I imagined he was envisioning a Hulk-like metamorphosis wherein I would start throwing cars. Suddenly, my brain popped back up to speed and I was once again smiling and laughing, moving myself far, far away from that horrendous yet unknowing mention. I was proud of myself. And I could actually hear my husband's sphincter muscles relax. (Not a pretty sound, BTW)

So I guess I can say that yes, I am doing fine living in a world where that person's name or even image may appear at random. He may be lurking in an innocuous stack of Trivial Pursuit cards, or in a magazine article, or even in a nice family conversation following a sweet birthday party in the countryside. I am becoming stronger, better prepared. Mature, even.....

But I swear to God, if anyone even happens to pause on THAT show while flipping channels, I will rip their spinal cord out through their nose and use it as a jump rope.

Just sayin'.

A dozen dozen days.....

According to the ever vigilant Coco countdown calendar thingy found here on this wall (as well as the Teamcoco.com site) we have ticked ourselves down to 144 days until the big TBS show. Upon reading this number, my mind immediately flashed back to grade school multiplication tables - 144 is the square of 12. Twelve sets of twelve, a dozen dozen. Or, to be even more exact, a gross. But to state that our wait is gross would not sound as upbeat as I would like. I do not wish nauseate, but to inspire. We have some time to kill, people.....it's time to start brainstorming.

Lucky for us, a big chunk of the wait takes place over the summer months. There is always lots to do during long, hot summer days. Hiking, swimming, biking......my family is planning a couple of fun road trips and lots of trips to the library, the beach, the playground. We are also planning at least one yard sale to pay for some of that fun. The days will be easy to fill. But, oh - those summer ni-iiighhhts......(Sorry, I'm a bit "Grease" nerd) Usually, in the cool of a summer evening, with the kids fast asleep, my hubs and I would settle in with an icy beverage and.....watch Conan on TV. Which was always possible, because heck - he was always on late night TV. Except now he's not. Which sucks.

Our options for our summer evenings now consist of:

1) Other late night programming: This is a big "maybe." If Letterman has a good guest we might tune in, and possibly will hold on through Craig (or at least his monologue) Don't even think to ask about "other" late night shows, especially that one. You know the one. I'd rather shoot myself in my own foot, clean and cook said foot, and eat it with fava beans and a nice Chianti.

2) DVDs and/or movies. Another maybe. We do have all the episodes of MASH on DVD (awesome!) and we can always throw in some Python or a good classic 80s comedy for guaranteed laughs. I can almost bet that not one of these choices has a self-pleasuring panda or an S&M Lincoln.....*sigh*

3) Sex. Yeah, sure, there's always that. Not too many laughs, usually, so maybe during a somber time. This is the option where S&M Lincoln might actually make an appearance.....kinky, I know, but boredom breeds freakishness. That explains the existence of most of the cast of Jersey Shore.

4) Sleep. My favorite of the options. I do enjoy a good night's sleep. An added plus is when the sleep contains Conan related dreams. Then, it is actually kinda sorta like I got to watch him on TV....unless it is a weird dream where he is driving a giant robot Andy through the streets of Paris, knocking down the Eiffel Tower and beating tourists with bagettes. Which actually sounds like it could make a pretty entertaining remote.....(Note to self, Tweet idea to Bley)

There are other various ways to kill the time: Reading, eating, playing on the internet.... Somehow that chunk of time that precedes bedtime gets filled. I've even been known to do a late-night load or two of laundry....hold me back, Nadine!! The thing is, though, that no matter what we end up doing to fill the void, that damned red elephant is always in the room. We aren't watching Conan, but we would be if... If. That one little world holds a whole world of meaning. If only things were different, if the bad stuff hadn't gone down. But it did, and things are what they are. There is no Conan O'Brien on late night TV, and there won't be until November. To employ once again the great and learned words of inventor Sir James Dyson - "It sucks."

So this becomes the perfect time to once again thank the great Skinny Freckled gods that there exists an "I'm With Coco" fan site. Not only do we entertain each other, we are all on the same path to TBS in a dozen dozen days. There are now, as of yesterday (or the day before if you are a stickler for time zones) officially ONE MILLION of us. The Coco Army grows stronger. If only we had some place to hang our pith helmets. 144 days is a long time to march in circles.

The wait isn't over....but baby, it's better!

It has been a while since I posted to this blog, almost a full month.....I've had people ask if I was done writing about "Waiting for Coco" since, in some ways, we are not waiting anymore. He has come back to us on many fronts: He's on tour, he's signed a deal to TBS, he can be interviewed on television and in newspapers and magazines. Yes, in a lot of ways we have our Conan O'Brien back. And yet I do still feel obliged to keep watch, and keep reporting on the process that will eventually bring Coco back to our late night screens. Until he is delivered safely where he belongs, unharmed and unhinged, I can't let that last relieved breath escape my orange-tinted lips ( Gloss or Cheetos? I'll never tell!) And so the wait goes on.....although I do have to say, much has changed...

For a long while, we the Conan fans were surviving in what could only be described as a desert - dry and barren, devoid of any signs of our beloved funny man. We'd sit in the quiet of the evenings, watching the tumbleweeds blow by as we recounted story after story, and shared clip after hilarious clip. Then, a little sustenance would trickle in: We'd get to read daily Conan Twitters, and we had our insider updates from our beloved Aaron Bleyaert. Sometimes news would come to us via our own Mike Mitchell, and sometimes we had to rely on the media to let us know that yes, Conan was still alive and kicking. We had a fight ahead of us, we desert dwellers. We had to inform NBC of what a huge mistake they had made, and we had to show other perspective networks what a catch our Mr. O'Brien would be. We had to dispel the mountains of misinformation that were floating around, shoot down the Leno fans who thought they knew ANYTHING.... If a poll was posted online we would descend like hyenas on a lame zebra to prove to the media outlets that Conan's fans were forever loyal. If NBC dared try to promote their Favorite Son in any way that was at all open to public opinion, they got it by the truckload. And it wasn't pretty. But it was always funny. Conan's fans are, if nothing else, always funny.

Through it all, we would regroup on a daily or even hourly basis at our "basecamp" - the I'm With Coco message board - to exchange info, share stories, and get updates on the latest news. I was on the board when Conan Tweeted for the first time, when the tickets for his (at that point unconfirmed) tour went on sale, when the TBS deal was announced. I shared in the excitement of other lucky "Legally Prohibited" ticket holders, and commiserated with those who were not so lucky. I debated the merits of TBS over Fox, dissected the meaning behind RIKSHAZ9LIRK, marveled over photos of dolphin-kissing and gas-pumping. I vented in anger over Leno's pathetic TV interviews, media comments, and "jokes" that were hurtful not just to Conan but to we, the fans. I tried really, really hard to not be cynical, although at times it was extremely difficult, and to be kind, which I found some days to be impossible. And through it all there was an army of others just like me, parked firmly on that desert floor, drinking up whatever drops we were given and always looking forward toward whatever the next day might bring.

Then, even as we were firmly entrenched in our Conan drought, we noticed a change on the air. Of course, a huge shift occurred when the tour started. Suddenly we had first-hand accounts, photos, and even videos of this man we had been deprived of for so long. When I first heard his voice, live and in person at McCaw Hall in Seattle, I nearly wept....not only from joy, but from relief. It was so good to hear him saying new words, making fresh jokes. He was no longer stuck in the exile of videos from comedy moments past. He was, in front of my very eyes, creating new and hilarious moments. It was almost too much to absorb. I still struggle with convincing myself that my memories weren't some crazy and fantastic dream....

And then - the floodgates broke!! Just a few shows into his tour, the gag order imposed by NBC expired, and suddenly Conan was not only appearing in our cities but right on our computer screens and even our TVs! The first TwitPic he sent out that showed his face brought an avalanche of comments and speculation on IWC.....Soon word hit the board that Conan would actually be interviewed on the prestigious news magazine "60 Minutes." At almost the same time, we saw his image splashed across the pages of Time Magazine. We, the shell-shocked Conan fans, went from near dehydration to near drowning overnight. It was a lot to process.

Immediately, the backlash smacked us out of our stupor. From many different directions, some expected and some surprising, came criticisms of all sorts - negativity spawned from the "60 Minutes" piece, bad reviews of the tour, sarcastic dismissals of the TBS deal. Although the bad press was actually pretty scarce, the reports would be repeated on the board many times an hour, with us rehashing them over and over. It was hard not to take the harshness personally. After believing in this person for so long, the offhand and often misinformed slams would sting like arrows to the heart. It was hard not to feel frustrated and at times even deflated. How could they be kicking this man again?? How could they not see how amazing his journey was? Again, it was hard to keep the cynicism at bay......

But, Conan showed himself to be a man of his word. He didn't let the bastards get him down one tiny iota. He worked hard. He stayed kind. And amazing things DID happen. One by one, reviews came out that were positive.....heck, even glowing. The TBS deal, a surprise at first, showed itself to be a wonderful fit, and Steve Koonin, TBS President, became a friend and a recipient of thousands of gushing "thank you" cards. Experts on everything related to television politics came out to say that the claims Conan made were true, and the arguments made by NBC were flimsy and unfounded. There was a feeling of vindication in the air.

In what I believe to be one of the best things to result from the past few months, we the fans have been granted access to the world o' Conan that we would have never previously expected. Aaron Bleyaert (our beloved Bley) has kept us updated with behind the scenes stories and photos, and has allowed us to post comments back to those on the road, making it feel like we are all personally involved in this tour ( and not in a "crazed stalker" way.) We are actually encouraged to share in the fun. Also, many on tour, including the writers and band members, have started Twitter accounts, keeping us entertained with their daily adventures, misadventures, photos, and inner thoughts. These folks, who a couple of months ago we knew only by name and maybe from skits on TV, have become "friends" to a great number of us. It is such an amazing synergy.... We fans sending the love to the guys and gals on tour, and them sending it right on back to us. As a fully grown and unmedicated adult (with kids and everything) I unabashedly admit that I do love this whole crazy bunch of folks. Now not only do I consider myself a Conan fan, but more a fan of "Conan & Co." They are all wonderful, funny, kind, and off their collective nut. What's not to love, am I right?

And so yes, the wait for Coco continues, but now it has an entirely different feel. Instead of being isolated and concerned, we are united and determined. No more shall we wonder what will happen to our hero, or when, or how. Now, we can simply marvel in the awesome things that he has achieved for himself.....and maybe, just a little bit, we can feel pride in the fact that we never gave up on him, we never forgot. I hope he knows that. I truly do.

"60 Minutes" is not nearly enough "Time".....

Two amazing and glorious things have come to pass in the Coco Nation this week. First, word that Conan, media gag finally lifted, will be allowed to share some of his (albeit watered-down) feelings on the CBS news magazine "60 Minutes" tomorrow evening. The same day that this news dawned, we were also greeted with previews of the Time "100 most Intriguing" edition, in which our beloved Mr. O'Brien is not only featured, but is showcased on the fold-out cover. Good news for those of us who spent many a late night voting in the Time poll over and over and over..... Hey, I have a life! I just choose not to strain myself with too much activity....(I have an extremely fragile constitution...*cough*)

In the matter of the Time article, I take pause to wonder: If this whole NBC fiasco had not taken place, would Conan have merited a place on the roster of candidates? Or would he have have continued to fly under the main-stream radar as he has for most of his career? I find it slightly ironic (or maybe more poetic) that it took being treated horribly in the cruel glare of the public eye for many to come to realize what a small band of us have known for years: Conan is awesome. He's one of the few celebrities actually worthy of being celebrated. And - he's simply funnier and smarter than anyone out there. In this regard, we owe NBC many thanks - "Freebird" indeed.

As for tomorrow night's "60 Minutes" report - there have already been lots of excerpts and even snippets of video released showing what will be discussed, so we have an idea of content. In basic terms, Conan will intelligently and eloquently try and set the record straight without staying too far into that legal gray area which NBC has enveloped around him like a straight jacket.... What we won't see is bellyaching, finger-pointing, accusations that he was "sucker punched" or "screwed." The feeling is that Conan has moved on, moved forward, made the absolute best of a really crappy situation.... He is smart enough to assess the circumstances for what is were and are, and has grown accordingly. In essence, he recognized where he wasn't wanted and so he left with his dignity intact. (Where was he when I was 24 and writing all those "why don't you love me?" letters to the guy who probably now still refers to me as "that psycho girl?") Does that mean he has no hard feelings? Of course not. A person can't be shat upon in such an unfair and public way and not have residual feelings of anger. But, like any mature adult who is now headlining the most kick-ass North American comedy and music tour EVER and has already signed on to host another BETTER show in the fall, he has moved on. Do you hear that Guy Who Didn't Love Me When I Was 24?? People CAN move on. And to you and NBC I have this one mature parting comment - Your loss. (Okay, one more mature parting comment - you Slimy Suck Weasel!)

The blog post from "The Other Side"......

It's been five days since I experienced the Conan O'Brien "Legally Prohibited from Being Funny on Television" show in Seattle, WA. For five days it has been percolating in my mind, bubbling and rolling and sloshing around in all the vacant space up there...... For five days I have been trying to decide on the right words to express just what I saw and felt and tasted.....And now, as I finally sit to put words to screen - I am still coming up short. Instead of stretching my already overtaxed brain to the limits, I am just going to drag you, the Gentle Reader, along with me as I recount the day that was April 18th, 2010.

As my sexy husband (we'll call him "Ryan") and I were pulling into the metropolis that is downtown Seattle, a Nirvana song suddenly came blaring over our radio, and we knew we were in for a particularly kick-ass night! That feeling left as quickly as it at materialized as I tried to negotiate the printed Map Quest map my husband had thrust toward me as we rocketed off the freeway and into the maze of Seattle side streets. It didn't take long for us to notice that none of the streets meet a 90-degree angle, they just kind of randomly jet off in whatever direction they damn well feel like. We had to do a little doubling-back, but eventually we found our hotel. I was feeling pretty dang accomplished at this point.

We parked in front of said hotel, and Ryan ran in to see if they would let us check in early. I decided to orient myself, and using the crappy Map Quest map and reading the names of our side streets, I spent 10 minutes flipping the paper in every direction and trying to find where we might be in Seattle. Finally, my Tourist Sense started to tingle and I glanced over my right shoulder. There towered the mighty Seattle Space Needle in all its sparkly white glory. When Ryan emerged, I didn't tell him how unobservant I had been.....I figured he'd have plenty more opportunities to laugh at me throughout the day (and I was right!)

He and I walked to Seattle Center to check out some of the local atmosphere. Immediately we were struck by how beautiful and artsy this area of Seattle was. My fat and unfit ass also noticed that it is built on a lot of hills. I told my ass to shut up and on we walked. As we had arrived at lunch time, Ryan and I were hungry, so we decided to try and find the McMenamin's Pub that we knew to be just a block or two from McCaw Hall, where we'd be seeing La Coco later that evening. In order to get there, we had to walk all the way around the hall. And that is when we spotted the tour buses. I immediately recognized them as belonging to the road crew for "Prohibited".....and I had the most overwhelming urge to pound on the doors to see if Bley was taking a crap on either of them. Alas, my more sensible husband reminded me how restraining orders can put a cramp in concert experiences....So on we trudged....

After lunch and a couple of fine beers, we found our way back to the Space Needle. Not having the time or finances to actually go up in the thing, we did explore the wonder that is the "Gift Shop." Our children needed local crap, and they were jam-packed with it. A few key chains, magnets, and water bottles later, it was getting close to the Monorail Meet-Up. I can't tell you how cool it is that Seattle has a monorail, when it just so happens that Conan's most famous (and brilliant) Simpson's episode was the one featuring a monorail. It was so perfect, it was almost surreal.....And even better, we got to meet up with some fellow CocoNuts to experience it! First we met Phan, then Sara, then Sam arrived, then Regina....We all piled on and took the amazing ten-minute adventure that showed us some of the amazing Seattle architecture. Then - it was time for Jabu's!

Jabu's is a just two blocks from McCaw Hall. CocoNut Nancy had worked hard to arrange a meet-up for us that was also a fund raiser for Stiller Strong. It is a very cool dark-wood-and-neon old school kind of bar. We were immediately greeted by the awesome Nancy....as well as a room full of lesbian softball players. At first, we weren't exactly sure how our crazy Coco-nuttiness would blend with their sportiness..... but it soon became apparent that these were the coolest lesbian softball players EVER! They not only gave up money for our cause, they also entertained us with some amazing karaoke and, when the time came, they donned party hats and helped us sing "Happy Birthday" to Conan.

Speaking of karaoke, we did manage to warble some. I myself jumped into a duet of "Surrender" with Sam.... I cannot sing worth beans but I love the song! Later, we got the whole group to join in on "Freebird." I had just enough alcohol in me and enough lesbians cheering for us that it truly felt like an epic moment. The latest tally we have, BTW, is just over $200 that we raised for Haiti... Nancy is a superstar!!

Before we knew it, it was time to walk to the show. We decided to leave our party hats on, to show Conan some birthday love. McCaw hall is a large, beautiful structure dripping with culture and artsy-fartsiness. Primarily used to showcase opera, it had lots of windows and sculptures and real wine glasses instead of plastic cups. This was true of every level....I know, because we had to climb to the veeerrrryyyy tippy top to find our seats. We were up pretty high. I passed a sherpa on the way to the ladies' room. But - the hall is built in such a way that there are no obstructed views or bad seats. We could see a lot of the floor below us, and it was fun to try and find party hats among the crowd.

Now, as for the show itself - out of respect for my fellow CocoNuts who have not yet seen it, you will get no spoilers from me. Suffice to say I laughed until I thought I would pass out, I screamed, I cried, I peed (in the bathroom, yeesh!) and it was all over way too soon. Seeing Conan after all the time of not seeing or hearing him was almost surreal. There were times I wondered if it was all a dream....but I knew my mind was not capable of dreaming up such hilarity....not in a million years. Not with a million monkeys typing.

When it was all over, of course I got the T-shirt (otherwise I could not say "Been there, done that, got the T-shirt) and a key chain besides. Conan now follows me wherever I drive! Ryan and I went out for another drink afterward, and some food. At midnight we walked back to our hotel and reveled in the memories that we had just made - and the new friends as well. The next morning we went to breakfast on Pike Street with some old friends and then made our way back home to Oregon. It still kind of seems odd that it is over, that the show we'd been talking about since before it was even really a "thing" was in the old memory banks. Would I do it again? You bet, in a heartbeat. Would I change anything? Well, I might try to find a way to pause time for just a second, while Conan was on stage doing his thing, to really try and grasp the enormity of it. Maybe then I could find the right words to make you all understand just what this experience meant to me... And that's all you need, right? Me, finding more words....

Tomorrow is that thing with that guy!!

I figured that this would be an excellent time to write a "Waiting for Coco" blog post....after all, at this time tomorrow, my husband and I will be in Seattle, getting ready to experience the awesomeness that is the "Conan O'Brien Legally Prohibited from Being Funny on Televison" tour/extravaganza.... So my mind is probably just about bursting with all sorts of thoughts and feelings and excited musings, correct?

Nope. My mind is surprisingly quiet right now. Don't get me wrong, it is not from lack of excitement.....I believe it is from too much excitement. Human Behavior specialists would probably tell you that at this moment in time, I am "over-stimulated." Which sounds like a really great thing...."If stimulated is good, then over-stimulated must kick ass!!" But instead of walking around all joyous and obnoxiously cheerful (like I was yesterday - man, you wouldn't have wanted to be near me yesterday....) I am quiet, pensive, a little edgy. One might say irritable. Another one might say bitchy. I think I agree with the latter.

I've been like this before in my life....the day of my wedding, I think I made the photographer cry... He deserved it, making me smile so damn much. I've had three kids NATURALLY (do NOT get me started on this subject, you really don't want to know. Really. Trust me) and there is this part of labor they call "transition" wherein the laboring mother becomes quiet and loses her usually chipper sense of humor. My husband refers to those moments as "the times when the laughter died." That was sort of like now, although I am not currently in a hospital gown with my ass hanging out, so my mood is somewhat brighter...

I guess I am not just excited, but beyond excited. My brain has tossed around the idea of the show and the Conan and the people and the Seattle-ness of the day so much that it finally overloaded. Now in my mind's eye I see snippets of Woody Woodpecker cartoons and can hear distant echos of Muzak....(Hey, The Carpenters! I'm on the top of the world, looking down on creation...) and that's about it. When I try to imagine what tomorrow will bring, I get a fuzzy "Max Headroom" static and then more cartoons. When I try to picture the venue and the stage and the giddy anticipation, I get more Muzak (John Denver this time.) So I guess tomorrow can't get here soon enough. I am afraid that what is left of my brain will begin to like this little vacation, and decide to stay AWOL for awhile.... Not that being brainless is a bad thing. I hear there are NBC execs who have done it for years! (OOOOHHH, BURN!!) Yes, even nearly catatonic I can manage to crack an NBC joke. Guess I'm not as totally gone as I thought...

When next I blog, I will have had the Conan experience under my belt and locked tightly in my memory banks. Hopefully, I will be back to my zany old self again. But, if I do end up stuck in permanent bitch mode, someone remind me that I am supposed to work hard and be kind. Please? I would hate to become cynical so late in the game.....I would probably suck at it, which would make me even more cranky...

TBS - the best of all the BS! ( Wait, what??)

What a crazy, hazy, upside-downy time to be a Conan O'Brien fan, eh? (I imagine it is even crazier to be a Conan O'Brien right about now, but only one person gets to do that and I don't want to make my target reading audience too narrow....) Not four months ago he was sitting as the Crown Prince of Late Night, and from that time to this he has been unfairly dethroned, unemployed, silenced, bearded, unsilenced via Twitter, in talks with Fox (in a box wearing socks), announcing a tour, going on said tour, and in what has to be the head-snappingest turn of all - signing on for a late night stint on TBS. There was an actual audible "gasp" that went up when this news hit the 'nets...followed by one unified "Wha.....???" But then the syncopation stopped, and everyone seemed to have their very own opinion on the matter. Many, like myself, shook off the surprise pretty quickly and rejoiced that our Big Red funnyman would be returning to our TVs before the year was out. In our estimation, 2010 was turning out to be not so bad after all..... For others, the news took a little longer to grow on them. Yet others....well, lets just say TBS was not their first choice, or even 101st choice. That 7-11 parking lot looked more promising to them. And to some degree, I understand the disappointment. At first glance, cable could seem like a step down. A steep one. With no handrails.

I was reminded of a joke as this whole thing was unfolding....I don't remember who told it or when, but I remember the gist of it. A guy is crawling through the desert, no food or water, sun beating down on his head.....He crawls along through the blistering sand, thinking every moment could be his last. He collapses in the sand, waiting for the vultures overhead to descend, when a shadow falls across him. Thinking he is hallucinating, he is surprised when strong hands lift him to the back of a camel. He is taken to a sparking oasis, and he is lead to a shaded area surrounded by all kinds of beautiful tropical plants. A gorgeous woman in harem garb approaches with a tall glass of water. Just as she is lifting it to his parched lips, he lifts his haggard eyes to meet hers and barely manages to croak..."What, no ice?"

Now, I am not suggesting that Conan was doing as badly as our friend in the desert. He is a very talented man, and he would always have prospects. The problem is, and was, that the timing of all of this stunk like last week's roadkill. No one was ready to welcome Mr. O'Brien into the bosom of their late-night schedule, because there was just no room. The networks couldn't drop everything and rearrange their contracted shows, and Fox couldn't persuade their affiliates that the time for change was upon them....not on such short notice. So here was a major-league hitter with no team to play for....so yeah, he may as well have been crawling around the desert, until TBS rode up on that camel! (Watch out, they spit!!)

Is it the perfect scenario? No, not at all. Is it what Conan deserves? Hells to the no, we all know he should still be sitting at the helm of the Tonight Show.....or even better, running his own Coco network -- all Conan, all the time! Talk about ice cubes in your water!! But.....it is what it is, and we all also know that whatever Conan O'Brien touches turns to pure awesome. If any one person could take TBS from the depths of adequacy to the height of the late night heap, it would be he. Or him. Whatever is grammatically correctest. Now, we all get the privilege of sitting back and watching television history unfold before us.....and that doesn't happen just every day. So thanks to TBS for recognizing greatness when it string-dances in front of you....we appreciate it, and we appreciate the chance to see our Coco spin on his mark again. Spin, funnyman, spin!! We'll be watching....

THIS IS NOT A DRILL! It's real! It's here! It's really here!!

When I was a little kid, Christmas took FOREVER to arrive. I would bug my mother all year long to look through the pages of the calendar, assessing just how much longer I had to wait. By about Halloween, the countdown became almost unbearable, and Thanksgiving seemed like a giftless torture practice session. As the season progressed, and the tree went up and the stockings were hung, my anticipation drove me to such a frenzied state that when the big day actually arrived, my euphoria almost killed me. I couldn't breathe deep enough, I couldn't focus on any one thing for more than a minute without my head threatening to explode. Yes, I was an excitable child. And I have recently found out that I am not much calmer as an adult.
Today, Christmases are a whole different ballgame. Now, as a parent, it befalls me to make my own kids go into joy-induced annual comas while juggling all the other craziness of the season as well. I still love that holiday, but it isn't the same as it once was. What IS promising to be a volcano of happy is the "now real" Conan tour. Much like Christmas, I have been counting it down ever since I bought the tickets... Luckily it has only been a matter of weeks, but even still it felt as if it would never get here. On the eve of the first concert, Conan and crew have been photographed hanging out with fans in Eugene, OR. This is comparable to the weather man mentioning that Santa has been spotted over houses just a few time zones away. He is real! He is coming!! And in just a matter of time, I going to experience him!! My adult mind can't process this any better than my child mind did....
When the actual day rolls around, I wonder if I will be able to play it cool? Will I stroll maturely along the sidewalks of Seattle, hand in hand with my husband, taking in the local sites and chatting amiably about the show to come? OR....will I be running up and down the streets, dashing into restaurants and storefronts hoping for a peek of a random band member, screaming up at hotel balconies in the hopes that Conan himself would step out to tell me to shut the hell up? Will I attack unsuspecting red heads who are out for a stroll, women and children included?? Will I burst into tears as I stand in line to show my tickets, making security guards just a little tense and causing my husband to state he'll never let me have Kahlua before a comedy show again??
As I look back on the childhood Christmases of yore, I now realize that a large part of the magic came in the waiting. I wonder if this will be the case of the Conan show, too. Maybe it could never live up to my expectations...or maybe it will surpass them. All I know is that one week from right this moment, I will have already been and gone again. All of the "going to be" moments will have become memories. That bright, shiny package under the tree will be laid open, and I'll finally know if it is a kick-ass Barbie Town House or a whole bunch of underwear. No matter what, I will appreciate the gift and feel warm and tingly for even getting it....(But deep down, I am rooting for the Town House!)

Can we blame Greenspan for this, too?

Our nation is in a recession. I get that, I know it, the people on those "Cash 4 Stolen Gold" commercials remind me of it every time I watch cable TV. I also know that in a recessed economy there is not only a lack of money but also a lack of resources. As a result, people are broke AND they can't get tomatoes on their Subway sandwich because tomatoes are crazy expensive and no one would buy a "15-dollar footlong." It doesn't work in the jingle. So everything is madness, and we have to buckle down and learn to do without a lot of the luxuries we once took for granted.
One thing I don't understand, however, is the lack of humor in current comedy. I mean, I know I am getting OLD, so my frame of reference is pretty broad, but I swear I remember a time when comedy on TV was funny. I remember laughing. It really doesn't seem like it was long ago, either....Maybe January?? Anyway, I can only conclude that the recession has trickled down into the world of comedy, and now humor is scarce. The thing is, though, that we as people need to laugh. It is a necessity of life, like breathing and love and caffeine. So now, much like people are settling for day trips instead of full vacations and boxed hair color over visiting the salon, they are also learning to laugh at things that aren't really funny....but will do in a pinch. They are desperate for laughter, and any laugh is better than none, right?

Wrong. These people are panicking. They are hysterical (and not the good "ha ha" kind.) They are thinking with their hearts instead of their heads. I am going to now symbolically slap them across the face (imagine, if you will, a sharp "slap" sound), shake them by their theoretic shoulders, and type boldly at them to get a grip!! Laughing just for laughter's sake is not worth it. Life is too short to commit to half-assed experiences. You can buy two cases of cheap beer for what it costs to buy a six-pack of the good stuff....but the premium beer will give you the better drinking event, and you won't end up peeing every six minutes either. You can rent an armful of bad movies for the price of one premium theater ticket, but the theater experience will transport you -- and with no late fees. And no J-Lo. You can set up a tent in your backyard all summer long, but it won't rival one night in a lodge at Yellowstone. Even with the bears attacks. You get my drift. Quality over quantity. There is no reason to settle for mediocrity, no reason to sacrifice excellence, no reason to watch Leno....
But even with all of that understood, here is the rub....
(Shakespeare.....yeah, I know stuff....)
The "comedy drought" that seems prevalent in our entertainments today is pretty much non- existent. There is funny everywhere, but you have to know where to look..... Classic British movie parodies, current British anything, random smart television sitcoms, rogue comedy tours (Hi, Conan!!), anything with Tina Fey, people who hang out on "I'm With Coco," Garfield comics, Flo the Progressive lady, C-SPAN, wedding dances on YouTube, pinata crotch-hits on AFV, robot skeleton sidekicks....There is SO much to laugh at out there, so much humor to be mined and enjoyed...There really is no excuse for sub-par comedy. None. Pandering to the lowest comedy denominator just isn't going to cut it. At least it shouldn't We all need to rise up, en masse, and tell those in charge of poor comedy programming that we are on to their little game, and we deserve better!

Take note, NBC.... We are bored as hell, and we aren't going to take it any more. Put that in your "Marriage Ref" and smoke it....

An "Open Letter" to Letterman Letter....

Dear David Letterman....

I blame you.

More specifically, I had some very substantial hopes pinned on your sarcastic shoulders, and you have not as yet delivered. As a consequence, I feel you are somewhat responsible for the terrible atrocities befalling television audiences across this great nation of ours.......

But I am getting ahead of myself. Please, allow me to explain.

I know that you are well aware of the whole NBC Tonight Show debacle. While you more than once claimed "I don't have a dog in this race" you did take some time to express an opinion or two on the matter.....and in those moments I never loved you more. Seriously, you knocked it right out of the ballpark. It seemed that we, the fans of Conan O'Brien, had an ally of sorts....Someone who knew the situation, knew what an ass Leno can be, and had the gumption to put it all out there. Our hearts swelled. (In a good way, not a "needing medical attention" way...)

And then......Super Bowl Sunday. The strangest television commercial ever to be aired in the history of televised media spilled itself across millions of screens.....There was you (not so bad) sitting next to Oprah (who had recently fallen out of favor with many for hosting a self-serving Leno whine-fest on her show) who in turn was sitting next to.....No!! Seriously? How could...SERIOUSLY? My head spun around this issue so rapidly that I ended up with whiplash of the soul..... I still don't really understand it, although I resolved to put it behind me. I decided, after trying out a plethora of new "cuss words" that the kids kick around these days, to forgive. After all, it was only one little commercial. AND -- the true nature of the beast would be unleashed when Leno returned opposite you, and you could turn your fire hose of ire and wit and anger on full blast in his face..... That would be worth watching.

Only......

It never happened. Sure, there have a been a few jabs tossed into your monologue - passing references, really. Nothing hard ball. And then......crickets. Not a peep. Even worse than that, and I hope you don't take this as too much of an insult, but you haven't exactly "stepped things up" over there at the Ed Sullivan Theater. We who do NOT enjoy Leno in any capacity were looking forward to seeing him return and fail. We were expecting you would bring your "A" game, bring out the big stars, do some big stunts, make the late night viewing audiences say "Leno who??".... And that did not happen. At ALL. Instead, he was allowed to waltz right back into the first place ratings spot. As the great and notable author Ernest Hemingway would have so eloquently stated...."What the hell???"

So is it fair to blame you? Probably not. You are just doing your job after all. Maybe the issue doesn't really mean anything to you. Maybe all the supposed hostilities betwixt yourself and Mr. Leno are just a fabrication for the press. Or, to give you more of a benefit of the doubt, maybe you have a more long-term card up your sleeve which, when played, will make the whole of the viewing audience gasp "OHHHHHHH!" In unison. THAT would be cool.

To conclude, Mr Letterman....In the words of my own beloved mother, I am not angry with you, but I am disappointed. If the guilt of that statement does not make you get off your Top-Ten reading behind and open up a can or two of New York-style whoop ass.....Well then, you are not the bitter old man I hoped (and prayed) you were. And yes, I know this is not "your fight"....but when it comes down to the age-old axiom of right vs. wrong, good vs. evil....isn't it really everyone's fight?

Sincerely,

Valerie Zwald
Coconut

Tell me antother story, Mama!!

Tales of good vs. evil are as old as time itself....and everyone loves a good battle. The latest late night saga has certainly evolved into the stuff of heroes and anti-heroes, bravery and deceit.... All we need are some singing animals, pixie dust and a poisoned apple and we could have a full-out fairy tale. Only in this case, the bad guy doesn't get slain in the end....With any luck, however, he gets his ass handed to him on a not-so silver platter....

In one corner, we have the "good guy" - Valiant Prince Coco. With his mane of luxurious hair, his charming smile, and "super monologue" powers, he is a hero indeed. Having been mistreated and tossed out of his kingdom, he now roams the countryside with his band of talented misfits (or will in five days) bringing hope and laughter to a nation that at one timed seemed doomed to cynicism.
In addition to our Pale Prince, there is a small band of folk who have shown their mettle in these tough times, and who have risen to the rank of "hero" in the eyes of the Coco Kingdom dwellers. Included among these amazing people are artist Mike Mitchell, who painted a portrait that started a revolution, and then built a website to back it up; Mike's lovely wife Lauren, who allowed her life to be turned upside down for this noble cause; Hollywood actor Tom Hanks, who not only made the "Coco" nickname stick, he also offered Conan a nightly gig in his own bedroom; Hollywood actor Will Ferrell, who let it be known that he might just get sick if asked to appear on a certain show, And just last night musician Slash showed some ballaciousness when he did appear on said show....wearing an "I'm With Coco" button. Conan's sidekick in residence Andy Richter did his duty on "Regis and Kelly" by setting some misinformation straight and putting a certain big-chinned evil doer in his place. Also rising to the cause - Justin Bretter, a fellow Coconut who turned a photo op into a major "win" and Shannon Perry, who along with the ad agency LAMAR is plastering Coco's visage from one shore to the other....for free. There are many others who have fought the good fight - losing sleep, comfort, and possibly friends to sing the praises of the Red One. They shall not be forgotten in the annals of history (truth time, I originally typed "anals"...)

And on the other side of the proverbial coin we have the "bad guys" - the folks who have shown their true colors and all of them are poopy green. Of course, there is the Evil Lord Chin, who claims to be innocent - but then again he also claims to be funny, so you can see how trustworthy he is...... There is the Zucker the Short, who makes decisions with such mind-blowing stupidity that he just might be declared a disaster area... Also riding in the "dark posse" are Jerry Seinfeld, a Leno supporter but also a developer of prime-time crappola... Oprah Winfrey, who should know better than to invite one kid over to play when the other is still grounded....Bill Mahr, who has an opinion and mistakenly believes people want him to share it....Kirstie Alley, who should be grateful she pops up in a monologue now and again, otherwise people might think she exploded and died....And new to the gang is the possible (?) addition of Max Weinberg, who has a huge amount of damage control to do.....And a presence of spine to prove.

So we have our armies in place, and Conan is about to embark on a self-appointed quest. Only the future knows how this all will play out, but of course it seems most sensible to root for the good guy.....And if I remember my fairy tales correctly, the victor usually ends up with a late-night deal on Fox. But that may just be an entirely different story.....

Act casual...but....IT'S ALMOST HERE!!!!

Way, way back on February 22nd, I wrote about the rumor that was floating around cyberspace which stated Conan O'Brien might possibly take his show on the road. You remember February, don't you? Sure ya do....think back to the half-eaten box of Valentine's candy stashed under your pillow, the chill of winter, the premiere of Cop Out... So much has changed since then. Like it is Spring now. I am sure Cop Out will be on DVD by the end of this week. And Conan not only announced his tour, but he sold out most of the shows the very same day. And as I type this late on the evening of April 6th, the date for the first stop on the tour is only six days away!

Six days!!!! I actually just peed my pants a little....

I have been trying to think of an event to which I could compare this feeling of impending awesomeness, and so far I have come up short. It is unlike buying tickets for any other random show....this is a first time, possibly ONLY time kind of deal. The content of said show is heretofore unknown (except to insiders like Bley, and that bastard's not talking!) Not to mention for over an entire month his fans thought that it might be September or longer before we could see our beloved funnyman in action. Now, he's coming to us and he's coming SOON! Yikes! (What am I going to wear??)

So, it's not just a show, it's an honest to God life-altering event. Like what, like Prom? Okay, yeah, you have to buy tickets and anticipate its arrival for quite a long time, but you don't need to spend way too much on clothes and flowers and it probably won't turn out to be the suckiest night of anyone's life. Like a wedding?? Weddings have nasty local bands and cheap beer. This promises to be a night of quality entertainment, and I am sure the beer I'll be sneaking in will be top notch. Like having a baby? It had BETTER the hell not be like having a baby! That "magical event" is messy and painful and I can't drink for like 18 months! Hells to the no!!

At the risk of sounding sacrilegious, the closest thing I can think of is like some sort of Rapture, wherein true believers experience the return of their long-awaited and beloved divine being . Except without the whole "end of days" drama, and with better seating. And no lasting effect on one's soul except the memories of a truly amazing night. Reading this idea over, however, I fear it sounds a little overblown...Even I realize Conan is no Jesus Christ. Jesus hasn't harnessed the power of Twitter yet.

So how exactly does one describe what it feels like to know that Conan will shortly be accessible to his multitudes of fans who have been sadly counting the days without him? I don't know if it can really be done, but I'll try....It is part giddiness, part pride, part orgasm, part nausea, all rolled up into a big ol' ball of OH MY GOD!! ....Set to music and lit by professionals.

Sounds pretty good, eh? I wonder what kinds of words are used to describe a night of "comedy" *cough* with Jay Leno? Oh, I remember..... Free Buffet.....

(editors note: Before publishing, the date clicked over to April 7th, making the first concert date technically 5 days away......Somebody hold me!)

Confession is good for the soul AND the large intestine

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned...it has been a long time since my last blog. Since this is Good Friday, I figured it would be as good a time as any to clear my conscience, while at the same time blathering on in the big, impressive words which I love and often use out of context. It's kind of win-win for me, Father....you understand.
So I've been very introspective as of late, and spent some time thinking about the deep philosophical questions that plague us all: What is the true meaning of RIKSHAZ9LIRK? Am I really gonna go to hell when I die? (Even if I don't do the clapping part?) How can I work harder, be more kind, and get Tweets to come straight to my cell phone? While I ponder these things, I do try to be a good, upstanding and funny American being. That's the Conan way, isn't it Father?
But of course, that's all the "good" stuff. People always always paint themselves in the best possible light before they start dragging out the evil little secrets, don't they Father? So yeah, I've been good, but I've also been a very, very naughty girl. No, not in the pay-per-view way, put those beads down!! No, I have been harboring evil thoughts in my heart pertaining to a certain network and folks who work for said network. I try not to, try really hard to stay positive and not let the bastards get me down! Oops, excuse my French there, Padre....Anyway, Conan always says (well, he said once but I watch it over and over) not to be cynical, but when it comes to this certain group of folks I just can help but want to see the worst happen to them. Is that bad?
Details? Well...okay. As for the network itself, I want it to implode in upon itself. I want them to have the worst programming, the sorriest excuse for shows, and the lamest ad campaigns EVER. And you know the scary part?? It is HAPPENING! I am afraid I am becoming a powerful force in the universe, because as I wish these terrible things, they come true. And it makes me joyful and just a little giddy.....Er...sorry.
And then there is this one guy who I have spent a lot of time hating. And I never hate anybody Father, seriously! I forgave the kid in the third grade who accidentally hit me with that tether ball twelve times, in the same game, and I wasn't even playing....I forgave the guy who asked me to prom and then remembered he had to help his mom knit a sweater for his sick grandma, and then I found out he is allergic to yarn....I forgave that boss I had who fired me because she didn't like the sound of my breathing or the fact that I was doing so.....And yet I can't forgive this guy, this....evil incarnate who thinks he's funny and makes me want to puke up Dortitos from 1985. I really want to let go of the anger - I know it isn't doing me any good. I try to ignore him, don't go anywhere NEAR him, yet he keeps putting himself out in my field of vision.... And I want to ever-so ironically run him down in a mint-condition classic car.
There is another guy, too, a guy who has a "big job" in the terrible network of which I spoke. He was personally responsible for a lot of the anger I feel right now. I kind of gave up on despising him, though, because karma seems to be paying him a visit of late. As I said, his network is suffering, his job is in jeopardy, and he wakes up every morning a little shorter and balder....By summer he'll be the ugly,angry version of Verne Troyer....
So maybe there is hope for me Father. Maybe, as the bad juju that these folks have brought upon themselves plays out, I will feel vindicated and will no longer be so hateful. Mmmm...what's that? Vindication is not a good thing? Only forgiveness is?? Okay, well then, in that case......
Nope, sorry, can't do it. I'm not that big a person. Let Gandhi and Mother Teresa and Conan be the forgiving ones.....I'll stay flawed and spiteful, thank you very much, and wait for that glorious day when vengeance is mine and the dick wads get what they have coming to them.... Now don't cry Father, you're getting your Deuteronomy all wet....

The benefit of the doubt is undoubtedly beneficial...

In the wake of the recent announcement of Conan O'Brien's upcoming tour schedule, there seems to be a sort of backlash that is cropping up among those who do not count themselves among the Fans O' Coco. Surprisingly, there are some very harsh and vocal detractors out there who seem to have an opinion of Mr. O'Brien which ranks somewhere between root canal surgery and the Third Reich. Most interesting is the prevailing attitude which indicates that many are tired of hearing Conan "whine," that he is spoiled and demanding and just needs to shut up. Interesting because, as of the last broadcast of "The Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien" on Jan. 22nd of this year, Conan has been under a gag order that prevents him from making any media appearances or official statements of any sort.
Now, it might be tempting to dismiss these accusations of whining and diva-like behavior as sour grapes from those not used to encountering integrity in a show-business setting. However, since my mommy raised me right, I am going to play devil's advocate and try to understand where just all of the animosity is coming from. Perhaps I am all wrong about Conan, perhaps he has actually found a way to become a jerk while in exile.....
We'll start with some of the last public statements Conan was allowed to say. As he was a person being forced out of his dream job after years of being placated by his network, he probably had some very venomous and vengeful things on his mind.....

Jan 22nd (Final show) - "We are going to have fun on television!" At first glance, these seem to be innocent words, but upon closer inspection I can see where they might be trouble. There are, certainly, those who see television as no place for fun. These serious minded folk do not want their broadcasts littered with "entertainment" or "amusement." It might seem like Conan is complaining about those who take their television so seriously. He may have been slyly heckling the humorless viewers of Face the Nation, Crossfire, C-SPAN, and of course, Leno.

Later in the same show, Conan advised his viewers that "If you work really hard and you're kind, amazing things will happen." My first instinct was take these words as an inspirational call to selfless living, but if looked at from a different angle, they can be very inflammatory. After all, these are the United States of America, and as Americans we are free to live our lives any way we see fit. It is our constitutional right to not work hard, if we so choose. Being told to do so by someone about to leave on an extended vacation seems pretty galling. And the definition of "kind" can be loosely interpreted. If you (sometimes) visit your mother in the retirement home and don't kick your dog, aren't you just as eligible for the "amazing things" to come as anyone else?? Who chooses who is deserving and who isn't?? Yes, I can see where Conan overstepped his bounds on that one....

After the last credits rolled, Conan found a way to be able to keep in contact with his fans and the world at large: Twitter. Over the past few weeks he has sent out one or more messages a day, Tweeting about everything from the mundane to the ridiculous and even the somewhat important (such as announcing his tour.) Below I will give a sampling of some of what he said....and what his subtext may actually have been.....

"Today I connected all the freckles on my arm with a Sharpie. It spells out RIKSHAZ9LIRK. Clearly I am The Chosen One" - An obvious swipe at religion and those with faith. Also, confusing for those with freckles that don't spell anything.

"Hey gang! Look for me at the Oscars tonight. I'll be in the parking lot, wearing my prom tux and listening on the radio." - Ousted from the Hollywood scene and on the outs with the media, he grovels about not being included. May also be hurtful to those who did not get invited to prom.

"I just punched what I thought was a paparazzi with a long lens. It was an old man with a wheat bread sub. Sorry." -Another veiled crack about the media....and old people to boot. And wheat bread.

"Sweet victory! I'm now trending higher than my twitter nemesis, Justin Bieber. Who's the tween heartthrob now?" An aging TV has-been attacks the youthful up-and-coming music sensation in a desperate cry for attention....And using the word "Victory?" So blatantly stealing the phrase from the Second World War, robbing the veterans of that conflict of their past glory.

You know, I must have had it all wrong. Here, I thought Conan O'Brien was handling his unfair treatment by NBC with grace and humor, while instead what he has been doing is leaving an ugly trail of bitterness at every turn. How could I have been so blind? How could I have thought the very best of his motives, when it is so easy to believe the very worst? How could I have forgotten to view the situation with a cynical eye, instead weakly allowing myself to be swayed by all the positivity and laughter and fun?

Somewhere along the way, I grew soft and happy. I am so glad that I stopped to think like a sane, rational, serious person. After all, where would all that silly happiness have gotten me? Really?

Abe and Conan - Two men, one soul?

When I was a kid, certain historians seemed to want to make a big deal of the similarities between U.S. Presidents Lincoln and Kennedy. Sure, some of the facts that they listed seemed to be eerily similar or somehow related, but a lot of it seemed to be a stretch. I thought that if there really existed some sort of historical "repeat," it would exist between men that have much more in common than just a job. On a lark, I decided to do some digging and see if there were any parallels between our own Conan O'Brien, and his favorite President, Abraham Lincoln. I was astounded to find just how similar the two men are. But don't just take my word for it.....
I am about to present a list of historical facts which took me literally minutes to compile, almost all of which are close to accurate, and I think might be spelled correctly. Without any further ado -(*drumroll*) Prepare for your mind to be blown:

-Both men grew to a towering height of 6' 4"

-Lincoln married Mary, Conan married Liza - both female, both with names that are 4 letters long

-Abraham Lincoln contains 14 letters, Conan O'Brien has 11...both of which are a lot more than Jay Leno's paltry 7.

-Abraham's father's name was Thomas, while his mother was Nancy Hanks. "Tom Hanks" is a huge Conan supporter, widely credited for making the "Coco" name stick. Thank you, Tom!

-Abraham's step mother was Sarah. That is also the name of the woman Conan chose to follow on Twitter. No historical info as to whom Lincoln followed on Twitter.

-Conan is famous for sporting a "strike beard" and later an "unemployment beard" while Lincoln was often seen with a "slavery beard" followed by a "Civil War beard."

-One of Conan's favorite walk-on guests? Abe Vigoda. Honest!

-Lincoln moved his early law practice to Springfield, Ill. Conan wrote for "The Simpsons," a cartoon family who lives in Springfield, (Somewhere in the US, maybe Ill.)

-Conan's Second Banana= Andy Richter. Lincoln's Second Banana= Andy Johnson.

-Lincoln lived in Washington D.C., which is one of the stops on Conan's upcoming tour.

-Lincoln was shot in the head by a man with the first initial of "J." Conan was stabbed in the back by a man called "Jay."

-Lincoln taught himself to read. Conan taught himself to Tweet.

-Lincoln stumped for peace, Conan for peas.

-And finally, Lincoln was shot in Ford's theater, and Conan drives a Ford Taurus.... sometimes to a theater.

Goosebumps, right??

Oh, and to all you overly-educated historical "experts" who thought the Lincoln/Kennedy thing was amazing....SUCK IT!! I am barely educated - hell, I'm barely literate - and I just rewrote the book on amazing coincidences. That's right. Makes you want to rethink your existence, doesn't it?

If we Canonize Conan, are we Conanizing him?

'Tis Saint Patrick's Day, and a happy one to you and yours!! What an interesting holiday, this recognition of the Patron Saint of Ireland.....whom I also always thought was the patron saint of green beer, Shamrock Shakes, and Lucky Charms. But no, with all the commercial images and cheesy Hallmark-card sentiment aside ("You are the pot of gold at the end of my rainbow!") this was a real guy with real miracles to his credit. Being the inquisitive student of history that I am, I decided that if I was going to blog about the day and the man, I'd better do some in-depth research. Being the lazy person that I also am, I went to the Wikipedia page. As we all know, there is no better or more reliable source for information on the web today than Wikipedia. That is how I found out about Leno's third nipple!
Anywho, there was a bunch of background information about Saint Patrick, including a lot of dates and places and stuff that reminded me too much of college exams.... None of it was really relevant to my quest, to find out WHO this man really was and why he is directly responsible for so many March 18th hangovers. Sadly, there wasn't a lot of information that tied him into the party scene, which I must say diminished my estimation of Wikipedia just a tad. BUT - they did talk about the "big miracle" he was credited with, one that I think we all heard about as children. St. Patrick was supposed to have driven the snakes out of Ireland. This does indeed sound like a great feat, especially if you don't like snakes....But as I read on, it was explained that Ireland is located on an island formed by a glacier, and probably never had snakes in the first place. Um, WHAT?? Yet another of my childhood images blown to dust by "historical accuracy." First they tell me George Washington never did chop down that cherry tree, then they say man didn't really walk on the moon, and now this? I mean, the moon thing I can get behind - they would have gotten stuck in all the green cheese - but come on! If Saint Patrick DIDN'T get rid of Sir Hiss and Co., what exactly did he do to warrant his own drinking holiday?
As I read on, it was theorized that the "serpents" he banned from the island weren't literal snakes, but evil-doing dudes. This made sense. Apparently, there were some guys whose beliefs didn't jibe with the church and they thought they'd cause some trouble in the McLand. Only, St. Patrick of Awesome said "NO! Not in MY emerald island nation, you don't!" And he kicked their heathen asses to the curb....
And then, epiphany!! Of course!! It all makes sense now. That unwavering Irish nobility, that sense of the what is Right and Just. St. Paddy-whack had it, and so does our modern-day Irish hero, St. Conan. I mean sure, St. Patrick was actually of English birth and had been kidnapped as a youth and dragged to Ireland against his will, but STILL! The connection is there, the parallels are uncanny. And here is something equally eerie...the more green beer you drink, the more all of this makes perfect sense. So drink up, me Lads and Lasses, and rejoice in the fact that Coco will go down in history as the man who drove the peacocks out of Burbank. And that is reason enough for another beer....

He'll be comin' around the mountain when he comes...

It looks like for once, gossip CAN be believed.....What was once rumor and speculation is now a done deal - more than a done deal, actually, it is a standing-room-only, sold out, fat-lady-sings kind of deal. All in one day, Conan O'Brien let it be known that he was actually going on tour and BOOM! - tickets were flying like chicken feathers behind a KFC! We, the multitudes of fans crashed at least one site, clogged many others, and when the smoke finally cleared it was pretty obvious that this was going to be a pretty darn successful venture for our ginger hero.
I personally bought tickets almost by accident. We on the "I'm With Coco" board had been debating whether the tickets were really going to go on sale at 7am that morning (as was indicated by the Ticketmaster web page) or if this was a default setting that would be changed as the day progressed. As sort of a lark, at 6:59am I started refreshing the page to see if indeed the shows were selling. On my third refresh, I was startled to be met with a "buy tickets now" page. Again, just out of curiosity, I typed in the my info, and was again surprised to see how many seats were already taken (this was about 7:02am BTW) I tried a few different seating choices before some came up as available, and before you could say "Visa" I had purchased those suckers!! My time of purchase on my receipt reads 7:07am. I feel I barely got out with my life.....
Back on the IWC board, it was reminiscent Normandy Beach - some were rejoicing in victory, others were crying out in agony, still others were walking around in a daze, looking for warmth or shelter or second dates to open up....There was noise and chaos, and the sounds of wave after ocean wave crashing on the shore (or maybe that was just my really loud dishwasher in the background?) The highs were extremely high, the lows were pit-bottom low. Someone came on the board, offering to trade his wife and kid for tickets. I know he was just kidding (?) but I hope someone does a welfare check on the family sometime soon....just in case.
It is amazing to me that all this happened just in one little block of time yesterday. Oh, and Conan broke his historical (since February) streak of only Tweeting once a day. He actually had multiple things to say, leading me to believe he is getting all full of himself and is on a diva kick (I kid, I kid) This made for even more excitement among we, the Coco foot soldiers. It seemed like the world had gone topsy-turvy, up was down, chocolate was peanut butter. Suddenly all of the rumors we had been bouncing off the walls and each other were realized, were real, were no longer just a hopeful, crazy dream. As proof, I have $100 worth of tickets I had to explain to my husband, who has a great sense of humor but is sometimes not amused. I am hoping that getting to see something as historical as Conan's live show will soften him up a bit....and if not, I am pretty sure Seattle has enough beer to do the trick!

A rose by any other name still ain't your damn rose!

When I was in the sixth grade, my school district didn't have the money to bus students, so my friends and I walked the mile to school and back every day. Northern California was often mild weather-wise, so it wasn't really that big of a deal, and we enjoyed the daily adventure besides. The neighborhoods we passed through varied from Post-War rundown to white trash spectacular... and there were some very nice little homes that we passed along the way, homes that captured my imagination. These were very well maintained, with gardens and birdbaths and shutters on the windows, making me believe I was strolling by gingerbread homes in an enchanted forest. One house in particular had the most amazing array of rose bushes - trees, really, since they were taller than us - all along the perimeter of the property. I don't really remember the house but I remember those roses, at once beautiful and fragrant and SO tempting. What I also remember, however, is the chain-link fence that protected those roses from, well, us.
Of my friends, I was the tallest, so I must have had the longest reach. On fine Spring afternoons, there were often buds just on the other side of that fence, and if I angled my wrist just right I could sometimes snag one. If I was lucky, it would snap off along the branch just a few inches from the flower itself, and we'd have our prize. If the stars didn't align, the rose would explode in a rain of petals to the ground below....and we'd high-tail it out of there.
On one afternoon that still hums along in my memory, I somehow found myself walking home alone....and I landed directly in front of that floral prison camp. Not a foot from me bloomed the most gorgeous deep pink roses. I scanned the street for witnesses....quiet in all directions. Carefully, I shifted my book bag to one hip and I snaked my arm in through that fence, trying to come up right below the prettiest of the blossoms. I was just brushing my fingers against the soft silk of the petals when a woman stepped around the rose bush and scared the living crap out of me. She was very severe looking - hair pulled back in a tight, rigid bun. Big cats-eye glasses. A dirt-dusted apron and heavy work gloves, and in one had she held a pair of pinking shears. For just a moment I wondered if she was going to try to take off my fingers. I wanted to run but I stood there, caught in her glare.
"I really wish you kids would stop destroying my roses," she stated flatly with just a touch of irritation in her voice. "You see this here?" She was gesturing to an empty spot where a branch had obviously been snapped off. Perhaps by me. "This is ruined now, a bloom won't come back here anymore. In order to keep the roses blooming, I have to tend to these bushes, and trim them properly. The blooms need to be snipped like so...." and she used the sheers to cleanly take one of the flowers off of the bush. "And then the flower can come back." All the while she was talking I was stricken dumb, wondering why she was taking the time to explain all of this instead of just yelling at me. I was even more flabbergasted when she held the rose through the fence, offering it to me. "All you and your friends have to do is ask, and I'll be happy to share my roses. Just let me use the right tools so the bush isn't harmed."
I don't remember if that twelve-year-old me said anything to that woman as I took the rose and walked away. I would like to think that I apologized for hurting her rose bush, and thanked her for the beautiful gift. Being an awkward adolescent I may have just wandered away wordlessly. I do remember that tears of embarrassment and shame burned at my eyes as I walked home, and I cradled that rose like it was made of delicate glass.
I told you all of that so I can tell you this: What I learned that day was that sometimes, in an effort to carelessly procure something we want, we end up ruining it in the process. But if we are patient and kind, we can have the item we treasure AND make sure it is still intact for someone else to appreciate later on. I really and truly wish that Jay Leno had lived in my neighborhood, and had a run-in with my scary yet wonderful gardener-lady. Maybe she could have taught him that having what you want isn't worth it if you cause irreparable damage while you are getting it. And maybe she could have shown him that kindness and honesty works so much better than treachery and deceit. And if none of those things happened to come about....maybe she could have cut off his damn fingers with those pinking sheers! Not that it would have accomplished anything positive, but somehow I think I'd feel better....

What the heck AM I doing, anyway??

Last night, as I was sitting right here at this very keyboard checking in with my friends at "I'm With Coco" and seeing what was new in the always awesome world o' Conan O'Brien fandom, my mother approached me with a concerned look on her face. In her hand she held the latest copy of TV Guide (or as she refers to it, The Bible) and she tossed in front of me with disgust. "If you really want to do some good on that computer, do something to fix this!" she told me before stomping away. The magazine was turned to an article about how the CBS show "Numbers" was most likely not returning after this season. I had such a mix of feelings at that point....confusion as to how a show being canceled had something to do with ME, further concern that if my mother keeps getting worked up over the "doings" on television that she is going to fracture something, a little sadness because I am also a fan of the show and won't like to see it leave the airwaves....but mostly I was irritated that even though this woman gave birth to me, she seems to have absolutely no clue what the heck "I'm With Coco" is about.
She seemed to indicate that by coming online and chatting with other Coco fans that I am trying to accomplish something finite....and that I can just switch up loyalties if some other show is in danger and needs my "help." It is true that I feel I am part of a movement that is accomplishing things - by showing that Conan has a strong fan base and is therefore a good investment to interested networks, and by supporting other fans as we wait the next few months to unfold. But a lot of what "I am doing" is coming to share laughs and ideas with people I have come to think of as good friends, and find enjoyment in our common admiration for our amazing Coco. It is peculiar to me that my mom sees it is as a flash-in-the-pan show support group....particularly since there is no show to support, at least not yet.
Later on, I asked my mom exactly what she thought I could do about "Numbers." She gestured toward the computer, as if to say "You know, on-line stuff." I smiled sadly, and tried to explain to her how TV really works - how it ultimately isn't about the fans but the advertisers, how it takes momentum to get anyone's attention and even then it may not do any good, how even though it is unfair, that is how it is. But then I remembered Conan's words about not being cynical, and how a lot of what we are doing on our Coco page is a stand against "show business as usual." People probably think we are crazy for continuing this "fight" which seems to the the uneducated to be a done deal. Sure, it is a whole different situation, but as I looked into my mother's sad, cop-TV loving eyes, I promised her I would do what I could. I guess if you can't have the belief that the things you love are worth fighting for, then you are just as bad as the bastards who don't love in the first place.

When the year 2000 really WAS the future....

So today I picked up my daughter from preschool, and she was more bubbly and excited than usual, which is saying something. As we walked out into the midday sun, she held her hand up to me and flashed a bright pink bauble. "See what Payton gave me? It's a ring!" she sighed as she admired the two-sizes too big plastic pretty on her finger. "He wants to marry me," she stated in a sing-song way, skipping beside me. I raised one eyebrow. "Really?"
"Oh yes," she answers, still admiring her new treasure. "And when Payton breaks up with me, I will marry Landon." For some reason, this stops me in my tracks, and the world seemed to tip just a little bit sideways.... As I stood in the middle of the preschool parking lot (not my safest moment, but whatever) the whole spectrum of time splayed out around me like a roulette wheel.
It seemed like just a few "late nights" ago that I first discovered Conan O'Brien. He kept me company while I wrote my term papers, painted my toe nails, and plotted out the map that would be my future. Or so I thought. Only the naivete' of youth kept me believing that I could plot my own destiny point by point. I would fall asleep to the the zaniness of Conan, and wake up feeling like the whole world was my oyster. Maybe it was, or maybe I wouldn't have known an oyster if it bit me on the butt. Whatever the case, at that place in time my life seemed so full of possibility it was absolutely bursting....And young Mr O'Brien seemed to be brimming with that same endless potential.... Everything was youthful and funny and unscripted and nobody could wait to see what would happen next.....
Fast forward a decade or so. Life, and Conan, had settled into a comfortable routine. For me, it meant husband, kids, job, minivan.....Conan was comfy in his own skin as well, combining a now hit show, new family, and the knowledge that one day he'd host the Tonight Show. Things plodded along as scheduled, everything was still funny and mostly unscripted, and when I slumped down on the couch at the end of a long day to watch "Late Night," I felt I was meeting up with an old friend. It held the kind of familiar continuity that a person wraps up in like a Snuggie....and takes for granted.
And now....my life is still plodding along as it should, except for the sudden reminders that fall out of the sky every day and smack me into paying attention - like the fact that my kids are growing so fast that I am going to blink twice and they'll be grown and be off plotting their own adventures. My little preschool princess will be trading in that pink plastic engagement ring for a REAL one....Our own little Sarah Killen (this is absolutely the newest pop culture item I have ever referenced...I feel all a "Twitter") As routine as everything has seemed so far, it has become more than apparent that life is just as unscripted and brimming with potential as it ever was. Anything can and will happen, no matter how hard I plan to the contrary. And as for my "old friend", he was shaken out of his comfort zone and dropped into a whole ocean of possibilities, ready or not. I am sure his future is feeling as open as it did back in those early, nervous, head-bobbing days of sport coats and jeans....and I am guessing he is loving every minute of it. There is nothing like being slapped in the face by life to make you remember you are still in the game....maybe not as youthful and naive as before, but with a lot more to lose, and therefore a LOT more to win. I suspect a lot of "win" in the future of Mr. O'Brien....and I myself hope to squeeze in a few more Barbie Tea parties before I have to start shopping for caterers....

You take the high road, I'm going this way, with the flames...

In every family, there usually comes a time when philosophies diverge and moral compasses do not point to the same magnetic North. Be it religion, politics, or general principal, one set of ideals never really stands identical to any other. In our large "I'm With Coco" family, we have almost a million people sharing one love (Conan, natch) but as would be expected, there are also almost a million ways of seeing this great world of ours. And just like in any other family, we sometimes can't help but express ourselves in ways that cannot possibly keep the whole family happy. It is disfunction on the scale of the entire population of San Jose, CA.
I think the distinct divisor in our family dynamic, if I had to name one, is that while we all agree on our love for our "hero," he came with a built-in nemesis, an antagonist in our little tale. Imagine a big-chinned meanie tying damsels to train tracks whilst Conan sweeps in to save the lovely ladies - all without mussing one hair on his head! Where we the Coco-Nuts differ is just how to handle our relationship with the "bad guy." Many, those with a strong sense of decency and maturity, have declared this person to be a non-entity, not worth their time to acknowledge or disclaim. I envy this strength and integrity. I would love to be able to take the high road, and keep all that mud off my boots. That viewpoint reflects the stuff that makes up a good person - the kind who help the elderly across the street and don't cheat on their taxes. I am sure these folks are going to heaven. I hope they send me a postcard so I can see what it is like.
Because you see, I belong to the part of the family who just can't leave well enough alone. We try to be good, we really do, but MAN - the opportunities for satisfying self-expression are just too plentiful. WHY does it feel so good to pursue the villain? WHY oh why is it gratifying to skewer his carcass and roast it slowly over the embers of spite?? The jokes come easy, the sarcasm drips deliciously over tongue and page. Oh curse you, dear Universe, for making this particular yard dog so easy to kick, for leaving this tasty fruit so low and easy to pick....(Another rhyme, blame Dr. Seuss and his birthday week) I am not on the high road. I am no where near the high road. I missed the turnoff about six weeks ago and now I am up to my ass in mud, donkey crap, and sticks and stones. I have no one to blame but myself.... I could be good, I could be kind, I could ignore the slow dog and the low fruit and turn my head toward the heavens and announce "I am better than this! I have those attributes from which fine people are made...." Instead, I spend way too much time on Google, looking for synonyms for "idiot." There are a lot. I intend to use them all. Now, if you will just steer me toward the nearest rack of asbestos underwear, I need to start preparing for eternity and stuff.....

There is no gift card for THIS, I'll betcha...

Most writers are incredibly egotistical at the base level, and eventually the writing circles back to their favorite topic - themselves. I would hope that my egotism isn't so very obvious, but I do have to admit that today my subject closely relates to me. You see, in just about 25 hours (give or take) I will turn 40 years old. This is one of those "big" birthdays, the ones that cause friends to remark and tease and eventually become sentimental and unbearable. Mostly they want to make a person feel loved while at the same time feeling old. I myself don't feel old at all. So that just makes my friends work all the harder.....the brutes! Ha!
What I do love about birthdays is when folks ask "What do you want as a gift this year?" Most years I have something simple at the ready - a little this-or-that which I would like to have but just never bought for myself. Other years it is trickier, and I answer honestly that I really don't want or need anything....I am happy with what I have. On these milestone birthdays, however, I feel the need to dig deeper than a new robe or a DVD, or complacency.... I think of these celebrations as being the ones that mark our place in the universe. There should be true meaning and purpose to the wishes we make on such a day; they should reflect what we have learned on the journey, and give some clue as to where we intend to go from here. This year, more than any other, I know exactly what my wish for myself and my world will be. What I want is kindness. Seriously.
The now oft-quoted words that Conan O'Brien spoke at the end of his last Tonight Show resonated with many, many people - including myself. But more than just inspiring me, it helped me to put to words what I have been feeling for some time but couldn't quite explain: This world can be harsh and mean and unfair, and there are plenty of people out there who will tell you to accept it, to grow up, that is just the way things are. For many years I had accepted it. Why try and change human nature, I wondered? But now I have been living on this earth for enough years that I realize that human nature is NOT cynical and cold and selfish unless we allow it to be. Just because many numbers of people say that it is a justifiable way to live, that doesn't mean that we have to accept it. There have been times in history when society had allowed behaviors that today, when we look back on them, cause us to shudder. In hindsight we see that mass beliefs often dominated, but there were those in the minority, those who knew deep down that wrong is wrong no matter the circumstances. And over time, their voices were heard, and the Many were shown the error of their ways. They eventually shifted their belief systems of right and wrong, and allowed history to tell the tale of their folly.
In modern time, the Many will tell you that it is okay to hurt others to get ahead, because "everybody does it." You will hear that it is fine to lie or cheat or steal because if you don't, someone else will. You might even be told that an idea isn't wrong if you can get enough people to go along with it. And we certainly aren't wanting for examples of those who have lived the clawing-and-back-stabbing life and profited from it. But we are amazing creatures, we humans - we have the capacity to feel emotions on a multitude of levels. And on one of our most basic, most primal levels, we can tell the difference between wrong and right. Our more complicated layers of consciousness can get muddled with arguments, justifications, and rationalizations, but deep in our gut we can't be swayed - right is right is right. And if that is your compass, if you follow that deep-down feeling of doing what is truly the kind and fine and right thing, you can't get lost. You won't always win, but you simply cannot lose.
I know this is all heavy handed and full of cliches, but I guess what I am trying to say in way too many words is this: For my birthday, I want the impossible - I want a world where people are kind, and honest, and they do the right thing and admit it when they mess up. Since I can't have that, I am very glad to know that there are people like Conan O'Brien, living in the public eye and doing what most "famous" people choose not to do - the right thing. For all that it cost him, he is SO much the richer....and I'll bet he can sleep at night. Good for him, I say, and good for all of us.....