Dear Seth Rogen

I am so excited that you and Billy Joel are coming to my one-woman show.  I am saving a seat for both of you up front.  And be careful, my show does call for audience participation. L.O.L

To be honest, Seth Rogen, I am a little worried.  My show has music videos that pay homage to hit songs of the past.  However, even though I am a huge BJ fan (I’ve been told I have taste in music like a middle aged white man), none of my music videos pay tribute to the icon that is Billy Joel.  When Bill comes on May 6th (or 7th), I fear he will feel slighted. 

He shouldn’t, Seth Rogen.  The show’s music videos, while paying tribute to some very popular hit songs, come nowhere close to the caliber of sweet music that BJ creates.  Seriously, Seth Rogen.   One video is a remake of “To the Left” by Beyonce. 

Another is a remake of “Go Your Own Way” by Fleetwood Mac.  The last, a remake of “I’ll Be” by some country singer.  A hit, maybe, but let’s face it, all country sounds the same.

Seth Rogen,  do you think that when Billy Joel is sitting in the front row of The Spotlight Comedy Club and watching me perform, “The Three Year Plan; How to Marry a Man in 1,095 Days,” he will ask himself, “Why no Billy Joel songs?”  Yup.  That’s what I thought.  And so, I have decided to write the rest of this letter to you as an homage to Billy Joel.  Please read the rest of it in rhythm to “We Didn’t Start the Fire”- one of BJ’s best, due to the fact that it is not only catchy, but educational.  I know you will pass along the message to him.  Can’t wait to see you both at the show. 

Back before I was a star                                                                                              People said I would go far.                      
Even as a little child
My talent was far from mild.

Things were not handed to me
It was difficult you see.
There were things to overcome
My dad’s a Libertarian.

Chorus:
I didn’t start the laughter.
There were always smiles
That went on for miles.
I didn’t start the laughter.
But the seed was planted,
And my wish was granted.

As I came into my own
My humor became well know.
People came out to my shows.
Popularity- it grows.

Seth, I don’t have to tell you
Vagina jokes, I wrote a few
About the gynecologist.
Let’s not repeat, you get the gist.
 
Then one day someone said to me
“Deb, more of you we’d like to see.”
I really do not know why
My fans talk like that Yoda guy.

Chorus

So what I set out to do
Is put on a big show for you.
About a Three Year Plan
Where I set out to get a Man.

The first run was a huge success.
I even wore a wedding dress.
The fans were faced with such delight
I brought it back another night.

What this show has done for me
Is made me a celebrity.
Always talking to my fans.
Smiling and shaking hands.

Chorus



Until then…


Debbie

This past Monday night, Barack Obama hosted a Passover Seder at the White House.  This tradition started in 2008 when three of the President’s Jewish aides were practicing their faith in the basement of a Pennsylvania hotel.  Obama walked by and asked, “Hey, is this the Seder?”  Apparently it was.  Barack joined the low level aides and the Passover tradition has lived on in the Obama residence ever since. 

Normally, I do not have a problem with gentiles participating in Seders.  I usually see it as a wonderful way to promote religious tolerance and understanding.  Plus, it is so cute when a non-Jew tries to say “Baruch Atah Adonai.”  However, this year is different.  This year, I did not get the opportunity to celebrate Passover with my low-level aides in a Pennsylvania hotel.  This year, Seth Rogen, I was not invited to a Seder. 

I realize what must have happened.  It was a combination of things, really.  First of all, more and more people have been listening to my standup comedy.  All of my Jewish friends have now heard me refer to getting my nose job as “having the Jew cut out.”  I have offended one too many Jews, Seth Rogen.  My own people are shunning me.

Second of all (and the more likely reason that I had no Seder invite), now that I am a celebrity, everyone assumes I had some big “Celebrity Seder” to go to. They were probably just too embarrassed to invite me to their own.  I’m sure that’s the same reason you didn’t invite me to your Seder, Seth Rogen.  So, everyone assumed I had somewhere else to be, and I wound up with nowhere to go.

Monday night arrived and I sat alone at my table with a hard-boiled egg, some parsley, and some bitter herbs.  I defrosted the remaining matzo ball soup from when I had my surgery and my mom cooked for me.  Realizing that was not enough food, I walked to Whole Foods and bought a little organic brisket to complete my Jewish feast.   I felt a little guilty for buying the organic brisket because my Libertarian father says organic is a waste of money.  I guess it is not a true Jewish holiday without a little guilt. L.O.L.  Am I right, Seth Rogen? 

So, I sat down and asked myself the traditional Seder questions.

Why is this night different from all other nights?
Because I was not invited to a Seder.

Why is it that on all other nights during the year we eat either bread or matzoh, but on this night we eat only matzoh?
Because it is Passover.

Why is it that on all other nights we eat all kinds of herbs, but on this night we eat only bitter herbs?
Because on this night nobody invited us to a Seder (as a result of our celebrity status), making us sad, lonely, and bitter. Very bitter.

Why is it that on all other nights we do not dip our herbs even once, but on this night we dip them twice?
Shit.  I forgot the dipping sauce.

Why is it that on all other nights we eat either sitting or reclining, but on this night we eat in a reclining position?   
Because tonight we are eating alone, so we are having Seder in a Lay-Z-Boy in front of the television.

Seth Rogen, what should I do?  I don’t want to alienate people anymore.  This year, Passover passed me over.  Next year, let’s celebrate it together.  Happy Easter.

Until then…

Debbie Singer

A Valentine for you…

Until then…

Debbie

I am in the midst of an unseemly medical mystery. In times like this, having a father who is a doctor comes in handy.  It is especially helpful that my father is a doctor of medicine, as opposed to one of the many other fields that might bestow a doctorate degree.  I’m not saying that other types of doctors are any less important.  I’m just saying I wouldn’t ask former Enron CEO Kenneth Lay (University of Houston, PhD) for health advice.

Of course, my MD father and I do not always see eye to eye.  For years, we battled about whether or not a comb over is a convincing form of deception.  I won that battle in June of 2002, when my father finally faced reality (and his barber), having his comb over permanently removed.  Despite our different fashion aesthetic, when it comes to medical advice, I put faith in my father’s expertise.  When a medical issue arises, my Libertarian father is always the first person I call.

But there is a problem, Seth Rogen.  This particular medical issue is of the feminine nature.  Talking to your father about botheration in your box is uncouth no matter how you spin it.  It’s not as if I were talking to you, Seth Rogen.  You, I feel I can tell anything.   I do hope the feeling is mutual.  My father, however, has been voted among the top doctors in Arizona.  It was only natural for me to call him first.  I’m sure you understand.

Our phone call was short, Seth Rogen.  Discussing the temperament of my nether regions with my Libertarian father made for an especially uncomfortable conversation.  The only discomfort I can compare it to might be the discomfort I am currently seeking medical attention for.  The conversation culminated in my father yelling in exasperation, “Debbie, this is not my field.  Go see your gynecologist!”

Honestly, Seth Rogen, I was shocked.  My dad has always said I could tell him anything. Not to mention he will hear about it eventually, as my gynecologist is his best friend.  I’m sure they talk about that sort of thing by the water cooler.  Or during their Friday evening card game.

Oh well, this too shall pass.  Off to the pharmacy. Hope I’m feeling better by the time I see you on Tuesday at the House of Blues.  Don’t forget, it’s in the Foundation Room. We can swap gyno stories with Jeff Garlin.  I bet he has some great ones.  It will be such fun.  Can’t wait to see you there, Seth Rogen.

Until then…

After a twelve-hour sleep, a trip to the gym, and an organic açai berry smoothie, my morning was off to a great start.  I rolled the windows down and took in a deep breath of the sweet Los Angeles air.  That’s when I smelled it… that pungent smell that promises to kill me slowly over time: second hand smoke.  I instantly began to seek out the culprit.  Who is this vile murderer?  I prepared my best look of shame-inducing disgust.   I do not normally consider myself a judgmental person, Seth Rogen, but my life is something I value highly.  And I, unlike my Libertarian father, think that second hand smoke does kill.

Besides, if smelling like smoke were a good thing, they would make smoke scented laundry detergent…and candles.  But, alas, second hand smoke is not a good thing, and these products do not exist and are not sold in stores.  Did I mention that smoking dulls the sense of smell and taste?  I digress.

With the reflexes of a cat (weird as I’m more of a dog person), I put the petal to the metal and sped on to the next light.   Now, directly next to me, stopped at the same red light as I, was a woman with her window down- smoking a cigarette!  She looked at me and shouted, “Sorry!”  She then threw her cigarette down and drove off in shame.  But, Seth Rogen, it was I who was ashamed.  My face judged her without ever really knowing her.  In fact, she seemed very nice.  Not like a bad person at all.  Certainly not like a murderer.

Then it dawned on me, Seth Rogen… I don’t know if you’re a smoker.   I feel obligated to tell you that if you are, I think you should quit.  It’s really not good for you.  I want us to be friends for a long time.  Don’t go dying on me!  Even my Libertarian dad knows cigarettes kill.  It’s the second hand smoke we disagree about.  But all that being said, Seth Rogen, I’m turning over a new leaf.  And I want you to know that even if you are a smoker, I’ll love you just the same.

Until then…

Debbie

Much like a clock, the New Year makes one think about time.  How time passes and how things change, plus the things one would like to change. These desired changes often manifest themselves as resolutions.  One definitively states, most often to an audience of peers, what he or she will change in the upcoming year, subsequently opening themselves up for shame and ridicule when their goal is not achieved.

A failed resolution, Seth Rogen, is usually the result of an abstract resolution.  For example, “be nice to Mom” or “earn a paycheck” are far too general to be achieved.  It is best to have a very specific resolution.  I have two.

My first New Year’s resolution for 2010 is to get rid of the ear pimple once and for all.  Seriously, this is becoming a bit ridiculous.  I’m not even sure what to tell my doctor when he asks what ails me- a reoccurring pimple of the ear canal?  I am certain he will respond with laughter, and not the kind we comedians need to survive.

I don’t understand it, Seth Rogen.  After all, I eat right - all organic!  Then again, my doctor father will tell you organic makes no difference.  “We all have chemicals in our body.  It’s natural,” he says.  He’s a Libertarian.  I wonder if he knows that the founder of Whole Foods is also libertarian. Anyhow, I exercise regularly and I sleep an average of twelve hours a night.  And yet I am plagued with a reoccurring pustule of the ear. What would you do, Seth Rogen?  Hot compresses are hard to fit in such a tiny cavity.

For Chanukah my sister gave me a personalized skin for my Macbook.  Along with pictures of my dogs, was a diagram of my ear with an arrow pointing to my pimple. Will this be my legacy?  If I died tomorrow, would my gravestone read, “Here lies Debbie Singer… Her ear pimple lives on”?

My second resolution in 2010, Seth Rogen, is to finally meet face to face.  While our correspondence has been incredible (and has gotten me through some really hard times), in 2010 I resolve to take our relationship to the next level.  I should be able to knock this resolution off the list pretty early. I’m sure my dad’s friend’s friend told your parents to tell you about my show this Saturday night at the Spotlight Comedy Club that starts at 7:30p.

So let’s say I’ll see you there, and we’ll start this year off right.  Can’t wait to see you Saturday, Seth Rogen.  I resolve to be funny. L.O.L.

Until then…