Upcoming Gigs and Such

I have a bunch of shows coming up in October. Check them out on the right-hand side of the page. For complete details go to LeanaBenson.com.

Hope to see you at a show!

An Open Letter to a Shitty Show

Dear Alias,

You are dead to me. I hate you. I hope you are canceled next week so that I can slowly forget about what you turned into and someday only be able to remember the shiny fabulousness of seasons 1 and 2.

I’ll miss Jack and Weiss and Marshall and even Sydney before her alter ego hooked up with that douche bag. I’ll miss the ass-kicking and the cool missions and even that crap with Rambaldi.

But I won’t miss the weak ass writing, the lazy plot devises, character assassinations and the complete disregard to the history of the show.

So go ahead and attempt to not suck the rest of the season but do it without me. Perhaps I’ll take up knitting or, god-forbid, turn on Survivor.

Look what you’ve reduced me to!

Fuck off!

-Leana

P.S. I have a free copy of 13 Going on 30 to anyone who wants it!

No Good Deed

So on Friday I took a huge box of clothes to Goodwill. A few weeks prior I had cleaned out my closet of every piece of clothing I haven’t worn since I moved into my condo two years ago. There was quite a lot. Some of the stuff I’d never worn, ‘cause regardless of how daring I am in the dressing room, some outfits just wouldn’t work on the mean streets of Long Beach. Also some stuff I just can’t fit my fat ass into anymore. There, the truth. Suck on it!

I brought the box around to the back of the Goodwill on Willow and Atlantic, as instructed by the hastily-written piece of paper on the front door. Inside the collection area were two sassy women (I could just tell they were sassy, ok) chatting while hanging up clothes. I put my box down and just stood there. Neither of them stopped what they were doing or even acknowledged me or the box.

You know me; I waited about a minute before I said anything. One of the sassy ladies said “you wanna receipt?” I said, “Yes, please” in my most un-Leanalike tone. She gave me this indignant look and proceeded to take the longest time humanly possible to write out a freakin’ receipt.

Now I understand that charity should be an unselfish thing that people do. People should just do it out of the goodness of their hearts and all that. But if charity can give me a warm feeling in my soul AND a tax break in April does it really hurt anybody? I used to donate clothes all the time before I had a condo and had the option of writing it off. And it’s not like the deduction is going to help me that much anyway. The government will find some way to stick it to me this year so that come April I’ll be sitting in my tax advisor’s office begging her to find a way that I can avoid paying taxes again.

Who said owning property was a great thing? I would like to kick that person in the ass. Right after I find those sassy women again. I forgot to tell them something about charity.

Leana in Chicago

I'm in Chicago on business. No really, I am. On business.

It's the most tiring work. I just stand around all day giving presentations on my company's software, but it really wears me out. I think it's 'cause I can't carry drugs on the plane...err, I mean, I can't exercise as much as I can.

Interesting things that have happened on my adventures thus far:

• Lucked out and scored an exit seat on the flight out. Of course because of my curse to never, truly be happy I got stuck on the isle with a 400 lb Samoan guy who already had his shoes off by the time I sat down. I sat leaning over to my left the entire trip.
• Realized my friend Matt, who lives in Chicago, is a complete and utter flake. I called him when I got into Chicago on Saturday and he STILL hasn’t called me back. I just know as soon as I land in L.A. he’ll call me pretending that he just got the message, or some sure crap. What really chaps my ass is that he’s been dating a girl in Huntington Beach and hasn’t even bothered once to call and say “hey Leana, I’m only one town over, maybe we could meet up.” He’s dead to me!!!
• Walked up and down the Navy Pier half a dozen times and didn’t once stop for funnel cake. I think I’ll have to break that streak tomorrow.

That’s about it for now. I’m sure more will come up. But they will have to wait ‘til I get back home.

Survey Says....

...More Women Try Bisexuality.


Again, another fad that's missed me.

Sock Elves?

All six, empty dryers in my condo complex’s laundry room had full lint screens. What the fuck? Why do people suck so much? How lazy are they? Do they not know to empty them? Do they think there is a lint fairy that will magically come down to clean them?

I put a curse on these people. I hope the next time they go to do laundry all their appendages fall off. ALL OF THEM.

I Owe the World a Coke

I’ve finally managed to break my website. Well, not actually break it, just bruise it a little. I was updating the Upcoming Gigs section and somehow the top part got jacked up. I blame the shoddy workmanship of Skeezy SkankHole™ for it. I really need to have my website redone anyway. I can’t add anything to it, not even new pictures. (Yes, that’s why my “Photos” section is really only one photo and yeah I know it’s false advertising to have the plural instance of the word photo. I can't change that either.

Other things I need:

• A new watch
• The key to the laundry room in my complex
• More hours in the day
• A raise at work
  
• The ringing in my ears to stop
• World peace

I’m sure you noticed I put that last one in there to keep square with the Universe.

Let's Get Physical-ly ill

I think the gym I go to was playing some late April fool’s joke on us today. The music they were piping in through the speakers was so weak-sauce. Examples:

• Step by Step, New Kids on the Block (or NKOTB as they were later called.)
• Supermodel “You Better Work”, Ru Paul (Whaaaa???)
• And finally, the candle on the crap cake: Informer, by Snow.
  

This was not the day for me to forget my headphones at home.

Sweet Caroline

Those of you who read my diary know that I LOVE Neil Diamond. I think he’s just the best. I love each and every one of his songs. I own the Jazz Singer on beta, so I can’t watch it, but just knowing I have it makes me all tingly.

I saw him in concert my junior year of college. When he sang America and a humongous American Flag unfurled behind him I cried like Jim Baker. It was a highlight of my life; until of course the fateful night I met Creepy Ron Jeremy and watched Sebastian Bach sing at the House of Blues.

So he’s coming to the Staples Center at the end of September and I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to win tickets on K-Earth 101. Today I got as close as I’ve ever gotten: caller 18. Of course I need to be caller 21, but I’m getting closer. Much closer.

Because as much as I love Neil, I refuse to pay the ridiculous prices posted on TicketMaster. They can suck my ass. Hear me TicketMaster? SUCK MY ASS.

55 to 95 Reasons TicketMaster can Suck My ASS:

UPPER CONCOURSE SEATING

US $55.00

PREMIER SEATING

US $95.00

LEVEL 200 SEATING

US $55.00 - US $95.00

LEVEL 100 SEATING

US $95.00

FLOOR SEATING

US $95.00

Another Epiphany? Really? Again?

I’ve noticed from this blog that I play much more poker than I do standup. Which, if I plan on making a career out of comedy, is a problem.

I have several gigs coming up in the next few weeks so I’ll get back into the swing of things. I have dry spells. If I were getting paid to do stand up I would be nervous; but as of today at 6 I still had a day job so I have enough money to keep me in beer and cigarettes another day.

But I must not lose sight of my goal, which is not poker. Poker is a distraction. Anything that keeps me unfocused on my comedy is a distraction and I must avoid it, or at least find a way to make everything work in tandem. Otherwise I could become my worst nightmare- a desk-jockey working for the weekend, hoping to win the lottery ‘til one day I just don’t wake up and they find my body three months later and have to do DNA tests to even confirm if I was female.. *shutter*

So these dry spells need to become fewer and fewer. I hope, with booking my own shows and working with comedy buddies, that I can build the momentum.

That’s the plan for tonight. Until the next poker game of course.

Pocket Rockets: Ace & Ace

I’m a bit late in my Poker Round Up. I participated in the Queen of Clubs tournament at the Bicycle Casino on Sunday. Going in I was pretty confident. I’ve been playing some pretty solid poker with my club (what up, Long Beach Poker Club???) and I was ready. As you know I’m more comfortable with limit hold’em, but no-limit seems to be the game of choice in these tournaments, so as President Lincoln always said, “Whatever.”

There were so many women registered for this tournament that they had to set up extra tables up and down the hallways of the casino. I ended up in an outer room, in the first position at the table (my favorite).

As in the last poker tournament, I noticed the ratio of straight to gay women was about 20-80, with the bulk of the latter being the dikiest dikes who’ve ever diked. I made sure to look as girly as possible to differentiate myself among the gay women and the GAY women.

A few hands of note:

• Very second hand of the tournament I fold 3/7 off suit. Then the flop came 4, 5, 6 rainbow. What the hell? I would have flopped a straight. But who would keep that hand? Only a person in the blinds, that’s who.
• Got pocket jacks. Play the raising game with a chick in seat 8 who was obviously smuggling midgets in her too-tight argyle sweater. The flop was all rags, as was Fourth Street and the River. I turned over my jacks and she mucked her cards. I left her with about $200 and a very valuable lesson. Leana don’t fuck around. Cha-ching.
• I knocked out the chick to my left. I felt kind of bad, as she was really nice to me. But you know what they say about poker “a stitch in time, saves nine.” She was short stacked in the big blind and I had A/K. in the small blind. It was folded all the way around to me and it was an easy call to make. She turned over A/9 and my hand held up.
• I got pocket Qs and raised too much. I scared everyone out of the hand. Pussies.
  
  

Our table got broken down and I got moved to a new table. This table was much rowdier. As the story goes, before I got there, the lady to my right busted out a chick who had a full house queens and 10s with her quad 10s. I’m sure many songs will be written about her.

I was in the 8th position and I had to nearly stand up to see any flop. Of course none of my hands were very interesting and the woman in seat 3 would raise any hand she was in so I couldn’t see a cheap flop if I tried. I got down to about $6,000 and was getting punchy. I went all-in with Q/J off suit after seeing a Q on the flop. Miss Raises-with-every-damn-hand called me and showed Q/A. I thought for sure my tournament career was over, but a Jack came on the river to save me.

Of course there were several other ladies at the table who had the same kind of luck as I had and with the blinds going up and having to ante in $50 before I even saw a card, it was getting pretty bleak. I was finally forced to go all in when the blinds were up to $300/600 and I only had $400 left. This is always where I would usually say I don’t play aggressive enough. But I truly think I played some quality poker. I just think there were about 68 better players there that day then me.

I was able to knock out two players so I made $5 off each of them. Not enough to cover my buy-in like last time, but I wasn’t too disappointed.

But I’m seriously burned out again on the poker. This is probably why they only have these ladies tournaments every three months. My club is having a game this weekend and I don’t even know if I feel like participating. I think I’ll go back to staring at the wall on Sunday afternoons. It’s a little more my speed right now.

It's Not Camp Snoopy

So I would never go to a fantasy baseball camp or Rock n’ Roll camp, ‘cause that’s just lame, but this one actually caught my interest: Howard Lederer’s No-Limit Texas Hold’em Poker Fantasy Camp.

Of course it's like $3,000 and I would never actually do it, but it would amost be worth it to be in the same room with Howard and my future ex-husband Phil Gordan.