The Shan Speaks: Notes from the Small but Wise

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

News Headlines That Aren't Headlines

Today on my Yahoo homepage was the following lead story: Forbes Names Madonna Richest Woman In Music


I immediately rewrote it for myself and anyone else who can read or hear: Forbes Names Madonna Madonna

posted by Shannon E. Ennis at Wednesday, January 30, 2008 | 0 comments

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

They Call Me Ms. Tibbs

"How are you going to make money if you're not going to get 9-5 job in Chicago?"

Stop asking.

I will be teaching English as a second language. First things first, my students will learn the difference between bull shit, horse shit, chicken shit and a pig in shit. How can someone assimilate if they're not familiar with the connotations of farm animals and their relation to poop? Once that's finished I suppose we'll conjugate some verbs, throw in a couple nouns and recite prepositions in sign language. I'm getting a body guard for the day I teach present perfect or past perfect tense. That concept might entice someone to stab a bitch.

posted by Shannon E. Ennis at Wednesday, January 23, 2008 | 0 comments

Monday, January 21, 2008

Wholly Unrelated to MLK Holiday

Almost forgot: I will be at Rubyfruit tonight for the "Dykes on Mics" show. 8 pm. Here's the address: 531 Hudson St. (between W. 10th and Charles, NYC) As far as microphones and lesbians go, we're pretty good.

Almost forgot this, too: It's a comedy show. Stand up comedy. Hence "Dykes on Mics"

posted by Shannon E. Ennis at Monday, January 21, 2008 | 0 comments

Sully





As much as I don't like to brag, except for my You-can-suck-on-this-Forever dance or my top 40 smash hit single 'I'm So Better Than You It Hurts My Balls' song, I must declare, without bias, that my nephew is cuter than your nephew. He's actually more handsomest than your son or grandson or brother or stolen Lindburgh baby. He's so cute that I cannot look at him for more than 5 minutes without breaking down and praising Allah and Yahweh and 666 The Number of The Beast for offering mankind sucha symbol of beauty. Then I take an hour nap. I'm afraid he may burn my corneas.


Below: Here he is drunk. Ha, ha! In addition to his aesthetic prowess, like a good Irish boy, he can drink 6 year olds under the table. Bitches!


If you stare at this photo intently, note that the Green Bay Packer blanket is actually a Chicago Bears blanket. My how the eye deceives! I'm sure his Wisconsin born Daddy was joking when he bought it.

posted by Shannon E. Ennis at Monday, January 21, 2008 | 1 comments

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Drugs, Ass and Tennis

Dude, I am addicted to Celebrity Rehab on VH1. Shitty metaphor here, but it's reminiscent of a k hole. A 60 minute one with commercial interruptions.

This week Brad Renfro, a talented young actor who publicly struggled with addiction, died. He was 25. I wish he was on Celebrity Rehab.

In lighter news, I was born ass first 33 years ago today.

Tipsaravic pushed Roger Federer 5 sets at the Australian Open. Hewitt and Baghdatis went 5 sets, too. That's two amazing tennis matches in less than 24 hours. Grand Slam, baby! Whew! What a great present. Thanks, gentlemen.

posted by Shannon E. Ennis at Saturday, January 19, 2008 | 0 comments

Friday, January 18, 2008

New York to Chicago, Older and Wiser

Tomorrow I will be 33. years old. This year my birthday is amazing in that I am actually delighted to celebrate it. First time for everything indeed.

The typical course of a Shannon birthday is marked by a murky sink into birthday pathos, morose brooding and other fun stuff like that. It's very glamorous and dramatic. Granted, I don't write suicidal poetry. Sylvia Plath and Virginia Wolf's examples keep my head out of the oven. But I do analyze the hell out of my life. The results fall into 2 categories: accomplishments and failures. I take stock of where I am compared to where I thought I'd be "by now." That's the part that salts the wound. By now. Ultimately I end up comparing myself to everyone I know, especially friends who are my age. Whoever taught me to compare and contrast inadvertently led me astray. Comparison has never served me well. And at 33, I have learned that I need not sit and writhe in isolation and misery (light with 2 sugars). No more showing up late to my own parties because I'm depressed.

My evaluation of self is a daily process, not an annual one. (Showering is still annual. My oily hair is sexy and I don't care what the health department says.) The yearly comparison to my comrades no longer takes place either. I am responsible for my own happiness. It's an inside job. Am I physically, emotionally and spiritually fit? Do I have several pairs of killer shoes? My answer to those questions has nothing to do with accomplishment or failure. If I'm nodding yes to any of those inquiries it's b/c I'm doing the work I need to do.

Steve Martin writes in Born Standing Up that his secret to success isn't formulaic. In the entertainment business, hard work doesn't necessarily produce results. To have success as an artist, whether you're an actor, writer, dancer, painter (or stand up comedian), be prepared to work your ass off. But magic time happens when talent and skill meets opportunity. Be ready to knock 'em dead when your number gets called. I'm funny and smart and they're s gifts that I'm lucky to know how to use.

I'm moving back to Chicago to do just that, to dedicate myself to my craft, to finally take comedy seriously without 9-5 interference. I've dumped the marketing career for the time being. With low overhead I can sustain myself on a PT job. (I'm not afraid to hook if I need to. It's served me well in the past. I'm good on my back and my knees, so I'm told.) The applicable adage in poker is "going all in." Well, I'm shoving all my chips into the center of the table. My therapist told me to shit or get off the pot. I'm shitting. $200 an hour, kids. I'm shitting.

Good lord, I've written a tome. Oops.

I just read this over to spell check it. I must think I'm Oprah. Or Bono. Or Marianne Williamson.

posted by Shannon E. Ennis at Friday, January 18, 2008 | 0 comments

Saturday, January 12, 2008

My Big Head Movie

The movie industry can suck it. As long as huge multiplexes exist, I am never making a film. OK, I'm scripting delusions of grandeur. If an offer should be extended to me, it'll be for a movie. I AM NOT A FILM KIND OF GAL. Me no Merchant Ivory. They make films. I'm totally McG. Way McG.

Here's my McG pitch! A wacky trio cooked up by studio execs who like cocaine: Jackie Chan, Demi Moore and ME as FED EX employees. Driving trucks without doors, scanning tracking numbers, asking people to sign the box in that calculator looking thing with the plastic fake pen. Jackie will employ martial arts when delivering packages, kicking boxes to doors. Demi, who looks like a giant next to Jackie and I, shows her tits so customers don't get wicked pissed if we miss a deadline. I'm the mean, tiny boss, who happens to have a limp and it's hysterical! But that turns out to be just our cover. We're really bakery chefs. Our specialty is pornographic cakes. Like lemon boob cakes with chocolate frosting nipples. Hot fudge penis cupcakes which, at first glance, look like little Washington Monuments. Upon second inspection, it's an uncircumcised wang. Somebody's going to get a mouthful of strawberry filling cum! Movie's title? Priority Confections. Tag line: All kinds of packages.

I smell a hit. 40M opening weekend. At the premiere Entertainment Tonight's Mary Hart asks me, "How do you like stardom?" And I retort, "I'll tell you who likes my stardom. Poor relatives and student loan collecting cunts." Mary faints.

Back to reality, back to life. Hear me now and believe me later. The real reason I won't make a movie is that I am thoroughly opposed, really diggin' in the heels here, to ever see my own head on a 70 mm screen. A grainy close up of my uneven nostrils, huge face and prominent frontal lobe jumps the catastrophe shark. Ugh. Not only would I decline viewing such a horror on my own behalf, I would caution any Cro-Magnon walking upright to avoid a mere glimpse my big, big head. My forehead has caused blindness in mice.

IMAX = unparalled carnage.

posted by Shannon E. Ennis at Saturday, January 12, 2008 | 0 comments


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