Welcome to Funny Blonde. Yes, blondes can be funny — can you process that? (play on words, my hair is currently overprocessed). I’m Marié Lake, comedic actress, burlesque singer, and filmmaker. Follow this blog as I face the indignities of being a woman in the world of comedy, show business in general, and life in Beverly Hills (adjacent) when you are not a soccer mom and not rich. I was married to an attorney, those were 4 very long months. Now I am trying to do things…differently.
Before I go on about this date, just wanted to remind you I have two cool shows in November. (Busy shooting web series in October).
November 13 @ 8 pm
Hosting Cleo Kings Artist’s Salon
November 14 The Loft Cabaret (debuting new songs)
$5 cover
9 pm
O.K. so I caved and decided to try Millionairematch.com. Actually an accupuncturist told me that my life would go better if I would just meet a millionaire to fund my cabaret shows as opposed to, you know, working at it. She was very New Agey and liked for me to have a more expanded view of the universe. Plus she is married to a millionaire so of course wants a buddy.
Anyhoo, the enthusiasm for that idea lasted only a week or two. I felt misled from the beginning. First, someone whose handle was “glamfabulous” contacted or “winked” at me. His profile was full of cooking references and he lived in West Hollywood and I think he may have been a little confused about what he was looking for.
Then a nice doctor contacted me and asked me to take a hike up Temescal Canyon and I had to remind him that 1)my Swedish/Irish skin cannot handle a hike and 2)I don’t disappear in canyons with strangers. My mother taught me well. So after a week of trying to get him to suggest something at more than 10 minutes notice and something I might actually enjoy, he finally asked me to go out to a Japanese restaurant. I overlooked that his profile mentioned he did not want a “control freak woman” because free salmon was involved and he seemed nice enough.
However, within 10 minutes of meeting him, he told me I was a typical West Side woman because I ordered brown rice and then said repeatedly “I don’t know if I can get past this brown rice thing. You are really difficult.” This was the first of many observations that began with “you West Side women…” like I was part of a race.
Then he managed to interrogate me as to why as an actress I don’t live in “Hollyweird.” Then of course the obligatory “how long have you been at this?” with my favorite follow-up “when can I see your act, because I’m a really tough judge of what’s funny.” So as much as I wanted to take my clothes off right there I opted for leaving early and performing at the Westside Comedy Theatre to a cool, literate audience. So the evening was a success after all … and I managed to get free salmon and not ruin my digestion with white rice.
“Hey, thanks for your wink on millionairematch.com. I am a burlesque singer/comic with a crazy schedule. Looking for someone who takes an interest in what I do. If so and my schedule doesn’t bother you, email me with your number.”
–written evidence that I am very clear about what I do with guys who say they want to get to know me.
O.K. at this point my Facebook friends have already warned me about millionairematch.com, but I’ve met a couple of nice guys and it is always refreshing to date a guy without the usual last minute texts I get from entertainers I date, you know the ones that go:
“my car’s been impounded, must be some mistake, can you pick me up? Oh yeah, my paycheck didn’t clear, so can you pay?”
— written evidence of exact text from telemarketer/drummer I was seeing.
So it perturbs me just a little when I have a preliminary phone call with this guy on the site, who seems so nice, open
and successful, and who says he has had read my profile and that he likes it and my my e-mail (above) and he really hasn’t. Instead, Mr. Businessman talks non-stop on the phone about himself and his business (circuits, small appliances, banking, I can’t remember) on the first phone call. Then he takes a breath and he says “so what is it you do?”
“I’m a performer,” I respond.
“You own a store of some kind?
One that sells comedy?”
“I perform at the Comedy Store.”
“No worries,” he says.
Not sure why I should worry. I would worry if I thought the iconic club where legends like Richard Pryor played was an actual storefront. So, as we say in the sales world, I disqualified him.
Finally, Millionaire Match delivered me a great guy to
date. Yes, he is fun, a pilot, positive and showed
up to my comedy. This is more than I can say for the rest
of my friends who have excuses for missing my shows like “I’m waiting for the cable guy.” Now the pilot did veer into the territory that all male friends of mine enter when they come to see my comedy, namely starting to go on and on about some old-school male
comic as if that is pertinent when it is my night to shine, really?
O.K. to some Lenny Bruce is a legend, but do I have to hear about him after I have rocked the room? He had his day. I’m tired of dead people having big career success. Really? But I was a good
girl and didn’t complain. After all it’s one thing to want support, another to be classic narcissist on the first date. You have to reveal that gradually.
Here is a little shameless self-promotion, from my DVD “Real Housewife of Comedy”.
Female comedians 