|
|
 
Pam started writing two blogs since the end of her original show's run in May 2006.
She also writes blog entries exclusively for PamBanana.com. I guess this is where I step aside and had it on over to Aunty Pam...
9.22.06
Yes, Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus!
I know, chickens, I know - you've been very, very good and you deserve the whole scoop. Until the legal dept dots each "i" and crosses each "t," I can't make a formal announcement, but it's coming very soon. I thought I could give you the scoop two weeks ago, but the paperwork wasn't finalized and I had to stay mum. I promise I'm not stringing you along. Honestly, I'm as anxious as you!
If all goes as it has been going, you should read and hear the BIG announcement come Monday.
Yes, this Monday.
Talk to you then!
Kisses!
Aunty Pam
8.25.06
Chickens, chickens!
The reason I haven't posted a blog recently is that I've had a string of meetings, and because nothing has yet been signed, I can't talk about it. I think there's a very good chance I'll be able to make a favorable announcement in the next week or two (yes, I have said that before). It's just that, as you know when you're shopping your resume around, it ain't you making the decision! Anyway, I'm going to keep my yap shut until all is confirmed, and then we'll all have a big party, with veggie burgers and organic green tea. I'm just kidding. We'll spike the tea. With crack. Okay, crack-lite.
All else is good! Valentino, the young horse, has really benefited from my being able to work him every morning before the heat kicks in. When I had the show starting at 10am, even with being in the barn at 6am, I only had time to ride one horse, cool him down and get in the shack by 9am to prep for the show. Since Fozzy, my more trained horse, is the older one, I tended to work him first, and poor Tino got saddled up at 1pm. Anyway, he's really losing that coltish "gawkiness" and is turning into a handsome, impressive horse. Best of all, he's so tall that we wear the same inseam...
I had such a blast being a "special guest" on the Cooper Lawrence Show, bustin' my bitches, Anthony and Chad. Coop was a good sport because I basically took over, but sometimes that's the thing to do comedically, and everyone laughed a lot. The Monkey Boys are doing a good job on that show and I take a bit of pride in that. Obviously, they always have had the ability, but it was Aunty Pam that pistol-whipped them into having the huevos to say anything in order to get a laugh, regardless of how vulnerable it left them.
Not looking forward to the Vegas gig on September 7th with all these new flight restrictions going. Nothing liquid in the carry-on? How on earth will Pip manage without her Purell? She may just cancel! Wait till I point out to her that her body is 75% water - she's going to have to pee and pee and pee before she boards the plane.
Bonnie and Rosie say a big "Hi!" to you all, and Evil Cat says, "Bite my ass till Friday." I don't know what that means, either, but I'm too scared to ask. Check out the new Bonnie and Rosie calendar shot ("We'd love a bag of Georgia Belle Peaches, please, and a rat-on-a-stick") that Brian's posted.
Hang in there - I know I've said that before, too - just trust me.
Big, sloppy kisses,
(Webmaster note: I, too, will also keep my yap shut... In the interim, you can now view all of the snapshots on their very own page, simply called...) :
7.27.06
Two days ago, Paul informed me that he has a very big deal, muckety-muck French guy coming to stay with us in - eek! - five days. Frenchie owns a big-ass rose and tree nursery in, can ya believe, France, and is coming to inspect Paul's nursery to see if he wants to do business with him. Not to jinx it, but it seems pretty likely it'll all happen unless Rosie pees on his shoes, or we have the wrong sort of cheese in the house, etc.
So, staying true to my laid-back, "hey, he's just gonna have to take us as he finds us" nature, I have utterly freaked and am now looking at the farm with complete despair. For example, today I went out and bought a new oven mitt to replace the charred one (from my attempt at toast) that hangs from this cute little dragonfly hook in the kitchen. Surely, you understand - he's French, for Pete's sake - I don't want him going back home and standing with one hand on his hip, and the other one holding a filterless cigarette between his thumb and index finger (you know how they do - it's like, so affected...) and saying to his friends, "And zen, there was thees oven mitt that was, sacre' bleu, black and filtheee! I just could not do bizness with thees people!"
And one of the shutters that Paul made last summer to frame either side of the big sash windows at the front of the house has now warped, and part of it is buckling free, as if trying to escape our freshly pressure-washed and stained (thank you, Barney Bishop - it's not clean until it's "Barney Bishop Clean!") IHOP cottage. Ungrateful shutter bastard. That's been added to the 'honey-do' list, along with getting rid of all the crap behind the house, because Frenchie's guest bedroom window looks out upon it. When I say crap, I don't mean toilets and barcaloungers, I mean what began as stray limbs in the yard that we made a half-hearted attempt to stack behind the house to use as kindling for winter fires, that has now become a six-foot pile of crap. There's rats living in it, because Rosie got one cornered beneath it last week and barked incessently for six hours - inside the house! So Paul's got to get his crew to come out, load that crap up, and haul it to the nursery and burn it. An illegal family of 14 could live in it, it's that huge.
We've been pretty successful in a lot of ways. In Frenchie's guest bedroom is a goose-down comforter that has two, frisbee-sized pee stains on it from when Evil Cat was mistakenly locked in the room for about 18 hours. At least that's the story I'm sticking to because, otherwise, I have to blame it on Paul's mom, who is a frequent guest, and I am not going there. Anyway, we can't get the stains out, and there was no way I was going to let Frenchie sleep beneath it ("Can you beleeve? They made me sleep with cat piss! I cannot do bizness with thees people!") so Paul and I hit Bed Bath and Beyond and found the most gorgeous duvet cover ON SALE for like $32 from, originally, $129 - woohoo! We stuffed the comforter, cat pee and all, inside, and it looks ever so elegant.
Tonight, I'm tackling the weeding in the shack garden but I ain't letting him in the shack. I never cleaned it once in the three years we were on the LINK. It remains chaotic and filthy, and that ain't changing. It was all Pip could do not to internally combust everytime she walked in, but she knew I would sit on her chest and make her eat grass if she said a word, so she stayed silent. I can't do that with Frenchie - unless he goes for Paul's wine cellar - and then it's curtains, Fifi!
7.26.06
Here's another picture from the "Rats, Rats, Rats" photo shoot sent in by Paul:
“If we can’t find any rats at the farm, we’d better go to town and buy some.”
New blog from Pam to-marrah!
7.16.06
We've been having a marvelous time this last two days! In living the "stay creative" credo between gigs, I had a "lightbulb moment" regarding the dogs: Why not a book? Maybe a calendar! Not Bonnie, riddled with provocative tattoos, stretched out over a Harley in a thong (wait a minute, that could be funny...) but rather, a day in the life of Bonnie and Rosie, entitled, "Rats, Rats, Rats." Now, honestly, are you not going, out of pure curiosity, to at least pick up a copy of that at Barnes and Noble, the next time you stop in to buy the Times and a latte?
So here's what we did: I called my friend Paul McAllister (yep, he's been on the show before - Anthony called him my "back door" Paul) who is a tremendously talented photographer. He grabbed the next flight out of Florida (on the way to Dublin to shoot a wedding - is that a great life, or what?) and we just spent the last 24 hours shooting the most hysterical shots of Bonnie and Rosie you have ever seen. The idea is that they, as terriers, are looking for rats everywhere: in the barn, in the woods, fields, up trees, and then despondent over the fact that their hunt is fruitless, they drive into town and visit several shops (feed store, boiled-peanut stand, etc.) before being kicked out of each establishment. We are presently making the agonizing decision of what 30 shots to use out of about 300.
Maybe it's because Bonnie and Rosie are our pets, but we could not stop laughing when we were viewing them last night. Bonnie's a born ham, but Rosie, who was an abused rescue, tries so hard and always looks as if she's going to burst into tears at any moment, so to see shots of her utterly spluttering with personality and big, goofy doggy grins just knocked us out.
Our plan is to pay everyone and recoup costs, and then we thought it would be lovely to donate a portion of the proceeds to an animal charity. We're in the middle of lay-out and copyrighting, so it'll be awhile before we're ready to put this thing on the market, but we'll certainly let everyone know when it's ready to go. Just to prove to you how funny we think it is, we'll tantalize you with one of hundreds of the shots. Give me some feedback, will ya?
"We'd like a sack of rats, please."
Stay cool, chickens, and try to keep your dogs and cats inside in this awful heat with plenty of fresh water!
Talk to you soon!
Pam
7.12.06
It's an interesting phenomenon: Following the show's demise, for about a month, I was receiving an enormous amount of emails daily. This wasn't entirely unexpected and I was both humbled and humored by them all, making every effort to answer each one personally, which was quite therapeutic. Besides, I've always felt that every listener is an employer and it's the very least I can do, besides sending cash. Or coupons.
Time passed and the flow of emails ebbed into a trickle. That wasn't unexpected, either. But then, oddly, in the last week, there's been quite an upsurge again, and I'm not quite sure why, but naturally, my ego enjoys the stroking. What I have found is a recurring theme: "What is the deal?" "When are you coming back on?" "How long do we have to wait?" "What's the latest?" So, I thought I'd better address these questions so you wouldn't think I'm just sitting around. Well, actually, I am sitting around - I'm unemployed and I'm done with the horses by noon. I've got time to kill! Anyway, It's a waiting game, this radio thang, and here's the sort of thing that's been happening:
"Mr. Big," owner of a syndication network that owns, oh, say, 1,500 stations, calls.
"I hear you're looking for a buyer for The Pam Stone Show," he says to my manager.
"Oh, yes! Are you familiar with the show?"
"I'm a big fan. You know, radio will only survive if it begins to cater to the women out there," he explains (like we haven't already read this crap for the past five years in the industry trade rags). Women are leaving radio in droves and they're an enormous socio-economic demographic that we're currently pursuing. Can you send us your press package and some CD's of Pam's shows? We'll be in touch."
Days pass. Fingers drum on desks. The "CLAW" scrapes the floor. Anthony sends me filthy emails. That doesn't have anything to do with anything - he always does that. My manager calls Mr. Big:
"Did you manage to have an opportunity to listen to Pam's audio clips and read her press?"
"Certainly did. Very impressive. Everyone here in quite excited and I'm having a meeting with all our program directors about her show this Friday. I'll contact you afterwards."
Friday comes and goes. Anthony sends me a photo of Bush and Cheney in a "Brokeback" pose. My manager telephones the following Monday.
"I was calling to touch base with you after your big Friday meeting, Mr. Big."
"Glad you did! Everyone is just knocked out by her show. Very funny and two Gracie Awards. There's a lot of excitement about this."
"So.... are you interested in picking us up?"
"I'm afraid we just picked up John Tesh, and frankly, we've got nothing left in the budget. But we're very excited."
Now you have a bird's eye view to what goes on in radio. Here's what I've learned in my three-year broadcasting, career. And remember, I'm an idiot:
Radio is run by nervous men in pale blue Oxford shirts, with their anchorman hair parted on the right. The far right. As much as they'd love to be remembered for bringing something breath-takingly groundbreaking to radio, they are terrified of putting anything on that doesn't sound exactly like what they are airing at present. Which explains why radio sounds like it does. Which explains why I'm probably going to dive into podcast land like everyone else. Right after watching a re-run of "Bleak House" on BBC America, just to piss Anthony off.
6.29.06
Can I just begin by saying: "WARREN BUFFETT IS MY HERO!" Oh, how it does my little, moderate-democrat heart good to see a fellow democrat putting his money (and what money!!) where his corporate heart is. Following the release of this story on CNN, the anchor quoted another marvelous philanthropist, Andrew Carnegie, by stating: "Dying rich is to die in disgrace." What inspiration! May we all be blessed with such riches that we yearn to do the best we can for our fellow man. Or animal. Or, hell, invertebrate... why shouldn't mollusks have access to affordable health care, too?
Now I need to bitch...
The worst part about not having the show right now is all the freaky, funny stuff that's been happening with no one to share... Waaaahhhhhh! Let me tell you what happened this weekend. As you know, this is my life:
6:00 am: Muck stalls... No, wait:
6:00 am: Push Bonnie's ass off my face, pull Rosie off my hip and fall off the side of the bed. Clean teeth, go outside
6:15 am: Feed horses and muck stalls
7:30 am: Eat breakfast and watch the morning news, flipping between CNN and Fox News and yelling profanities and both
7:40 am: Do my impression of Bill Frist to Paul before letting him leave the house
8:00 am: Ride Fozzy
9:30 am: Ride Valentino
11:00 am: Go to either the feed store or the sawmill (for shavings)
12:30 pm: Answer email, miss the show
1:00 pm: Lunch
2:00 pm: Answer email, miss the show
3:00 pm: Answer email, miss the show
4-10:00 pm: Ditto. Oh, and watch BBC America with a tall gin and tonic.
So, that's my life. It's not bad. I love the farm but I do miss the show, i.e., YOU very much.
Anyway, over the weekend, somewhere around 7:15 am, after I had finished mucking stalls, I got the leaf blower out of the tack room and plugged it in, in order to blow all the stuff out of the barn aisle. As usual, Bonnie and Rosie were sitting next to me. Doing nothing. They just really dig sitting in the barn aisle while I do chores. Anyway, I turn it on and a MOUSE comes flying out of it! Bonnie thought it was breakfast to go! The mouse flew about 20 feet, landed, shook it off, and ran like hell. I thought, "Damn, that's the equivalent of an F-5 tornado through a trailer park for a mouse!" All I could think of was the great phone-in topic it would have spawned: "When have you been dead asleep, and the next thing you know, you're flying through the air." Now, you know Kennnnnnnnnnnnn or Bobby woulda called!
6.21.06
OK, so TWO days after we went off the air, I'm riding Valentino in the arena which sits in the farm's smaller field with woods running down along one side. He did really well and, as some of you may recall, he is very young and I'm just starting riding him. Young horses can be very nervous and spooky. Any herd-type animal is. They perceive any movement in the woods, behind a tree, as a tiger picking out the weak prey. And so it was with Valentino: he went very well that day, really concentrated on his work, and as we were leaving the arena and heading up to the barn, he raised his neck and I felt his back tighten under the saddle and I thought, "Oh, crap, what is he looking at? Is he getting ready to bolt?" With such a youngster, any rider with experience knows he has to stay very relaxed and supple in the saddle. If you tighten up and stop moving with the horse, they feel your tension and immediately confirm that the shadow under the oak tree is indeed a tiger and the next thing you know, the horse leaves skid marks and both of you are in the turning lane at an intersection in Toledo.
So, I start patting Tino's neck and saying in mock-scaredy cat fashion, "Oh, TINO, is there a BIG BEAR in the woods? Poor TINO, what IS it? Where's the tiger? C'mon, brave man, let's go back to the barn!" And all the time in my brain, I'm thinking, "Oh s***, he's gonna bolt, oh s***, he's gonna bolt - do I still have health insurance?"
Anyway, we get to the barn, I untack him and lead him to the wash stall and give him a nice, warm, bath and he is just craning his head around to look back at the arena. You'd think I'd have learned by now: if a horse is really looking at something, trust me - there's something there. My other horse, Fozzy, once did the same thing, trying to look in the other field. Turns out, at the bottom of the hill (where he couldn't even see), a big, red fox was making his way across, looking for dinner. It must be the scent they pick up. So, I say to Tino, "All right, I'll go look, you big baby!" I take three steps out of the barn and a full-sized, adult, black BEAR comes lumbering across the arena - kinda like Anthony after the "All-You-Can-Eat" Sunday buffet at the Golden Corral. He climbs through the fence, crosses the driveway, goes through the next fence and takes off across the big field up to the trees in the corner. Scared the crap out of me! I didn't even have Pip around to throw at him...
When you live in the boonies and you never hear sirens or gunshots, this is exciting stuff! I grabbed Bonnie and Rosie before they saw "Smokey," threw them in the house and had the BEST time alerting all the neighbors: "Hey! This is Pam! There's a big BEAR comin' your way!" My neighbor, Harriet, who's 81, phoned right back, "He just went through my rose garden and now he's in my Persimmon tree! They love them persimmons!"
Nothing much happened after that. Smokey went back to Glassy Mountain after stuffing himself on persimmons and peaches in the local orchards. For awhile, he napped in the sand trap at a local golf course. Talk about a hazard! Well, if you ever wondered if bears really do s*** in the woods, it wouldn't be too hard to determine after the fiber this guy packed in!
6.16.06
Hi Chickens,
As I muck stalls every morning and ride the horses before the heat of the day, the shack is, well, right THERE, looking abandoned (well, hell, it always looked abandoned, no matter how many people were in it) and downright sad. Leaving this show might just be one of the toughest things I've ever done. Actually, over-hauling a 1974 VW Bug without metric tools - that was pretty tough, but this one is emotional. I knew daily horse chores and general errands would keep me busy, but I feel like someone going through a divorce and occupying their time so that they don't cave in and open a vein or a bottle. Or four. Depends on the vintage.
It comes down to this: I REALLY MISS MY FAMILY! I heard from Taz, and, thanks to Brian, now you all know he's OK and not doing any jail time, but I wonder about Bobby and Brock (Brian adds something sarcastic in 3...2...1 ) and Crazy Casie, and Monty, and Denise from Trinidad, and of course, Percy and Kennnnnnnnnn- all these friends that I feel I've dropped, cold turkey.
This feeling of withdrawal is highlighted by the countless emails I've received from all of you: some are so sweet and supportive, some really choke me up - people who are terribly ill or who have lost a friend, father, even a child, have written to say that our show was the only brightness in a very dark time for them. It makes me feel utterly undeserving and honored at the same time to receive such affection and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
I need to let you know that we are busting our ass trying to get this show picked up in some fashion: syndication company, another station, etc. We know we have a fabulous product. A famous comic once told me (oh, all right, it was Jay Leno), "Hey, kid, ya just keep working and at some point, you'll be too good to be ignored." That's where this show is - we're damned good and damned funny and I just KNOW that someone's going to approach us. When that happens, you'll be the first to know.
To keep you abreast of Funny Farm Life, I'll keep posting a blog here at Pam Banana; there's SO MUCH to tell you. I have to tell you about the BEAR that was on the property just two days after our last show. I was so frustrated! I said to Anthony, "I've got all this great material for the air and no show! Waaaah!"
So stay tuned. I'll write about that, next. Oh, and I found the weirdest thing in my underwear. Ya gotta wait for that too. Maybe on a slow TV night....
C-ya!
Auntie Pam
Email the Webmaster (remove the +NOSPAM+ before sending) |