That's me, late 90's. Photo taken by and recently uploaded to Facebook by Paul Sullivan.

I love it. Paul titled it "Susie...fast and blurry" and I think that's an apt posthumous description of my 20's.

Way back then I had more fun than should be allowed. I had fabsurdly stunning long hair, which is still lovely, but then, like my recently unleashed personality -- it was nearly too big to be believed. And halfway through my 2nd decade I finally got up the guts to pursue my dream -- writing and performing and producing and living and breathing comedy.

There aren't many photos of me from the 90's. Perhaps more than most, because I was a performer. But my best-looking decade passed in the generation before digital. If photos weren't in focus it was usually a mistake, not an artistic choice.

We didn't take close-up pics of flower petals at a friend's wedding or our cheese because that was when you were paying for each snap and most people only used disposable cameras anyway. A picture at night yielded only flash-bleached sweaty faces, which is an even better reason then the expense as to why we didn't take many.

I'm amazed and impressed when comedians today, after performing for a nanosecond, have beautiful PR photos. For us headshots were a major expense and photos were only for magazines or newspapers so why do them when you're just a nobody comic hoofing from minor show to Rat Hole Rep and back again?

I love the photo because of what is unseen. Which is nearly everything. When my grandchildren look back they'll be a digital trail of who I was. It won't be as complete as some people's -- those who "check in" on applications like Foursquare will leave a map for future generations to trace their journeys from Chipolte Grill to Abtastic Fitness Center and back -- but there will be something.

And so, I adore this crappy beautiful photo for what it doesn't show (what is that blue thing in my hand and why is/what is hilarious?) and for what will never be shown because it can not be. For all the moments that can only be dredged up because they are carried within friends in their increasingly leaky brains.

How nice it would be to have some more beautiful high-res photos or video of me from that era. But then I know I may have behaved differently if I'd thought a camera was poised to record every meal, every quip, every second. I might not have taken as many chances on stage and in life.

And although someday there might be a relation who wishes they knew more about me, as much as I fantasize about my long-lost family, now that everyone is documented and terribly vain (and how I lap up all of it, even when people share way too much and it becomes awfully creepy) -- I now crave and find equity in the mystery and the moments that -- until we have time machines -- will never be revealed.

Thanks for the memories, Paul.

PS If you upload and tag an unattractive photo of me, I'm sending the boys around.

I don't know what boys.

I'll have to find some, I guess.

INSERT BIG WINKING EMOTICON HERE.

But seriously, sorta kinda, not really.

I went freelance this summer after years of going steady with the same cable TV network and now I'm promiscuously working on a veritable pu pu platter of fun jobs. Writing for TV, Web for TV, doing voice over for TV and...

Well the image gives it away, ya?

Ya.

I've got a newish gig contributing jokes to CAR TALK along with two other way-more-successful-than-me LA comedy writers.

As far as I know, this is the first time in over 20 years this radio show has hired outside writers. How they did it all in-house for so long baffles and impresses me. I've always been a fan of the show and it was my treasured and sole entertainment one lonely winter spent in North Bennington, VT trying to improve my Chinese, do my thesis and waitress at the world's crappiest Chinese/Italian restaurant.

Of course it might have also been the world's best Chinese/Italian restaurant. If you've encountered another, lemme know.

While working there you could hear the crunch of snow as cars of hungry people slowed down in confusion at the chirpy "Chinese slash Italian" touted on the sign and then the sad spinning of tires as tourists tried to get traction on the tenacious VT ice to escape the fate of our kooky culinary genre. I say tourists because any local that ate at the Golden Nugget rarely came back, and no, it's not there anymore.

And maybe someday I'll tell ya all about the 400 pound delivery guy who ate half the food before it arrived at its destination and how a burly dairy farmer came into the restaurant and found that the pu pu platter I served him contained exactly twice as much stuff as it did when the morbidly obese delivery guy was handling it. And how the farmer turned red in the face and started screaming about how he was going "to kill that fat ____." And how I lied and said I hadn't seen him and then made tracks to the kitchen to tell the delivery guy (who was sitting on a case of beer, drinking the whole thing slowly but surely, which is what he did waiting for his next meal/delivery) to make himself scarce lest he get his face pounded to the consistency of duck sauce.

And maybe someday I'll tell you about how, after yet another sad evening of getting yelled at by customers about how bad the food was (and it was), I entered the swinging kitchen doors determined to tell the surly Chinese owner/chef that his Chinese food was inedible (the Italian was, oddly, not bad, but no one ordered it because it looked like a Chinese joint) and kvetch to him about how I was making no money in tips and how maybe he should revisit his cooking chops.

And then how Peter, who had until then only glared at me and rung a bell when the orders were ready, suddenly told me the story of his escape from communist China, and how he trained and trained to swim an impossible distance to freedom, and of how he eventually scrapped his way to Canada, and how feeding people was the only thing he loved and how lucky he felt to have the opportunity -- his own business no less -- in America. He had tears in his eyes. So did I.

At that moment, I simply took the barely-touched plates of food in my hands that customers had thrown back at me, and very slowly pushed the contents into the garbage with a dirty knife and backed out onto the dining room floor to take more abuse for this man's horrible cooking. But after that, armed with his heroic journey and his self-delusion/successful propaganda campaign concerning his kitchen talents, their barbs and talk of hot barf didn't scathe me.

OK, I toldja.

Back to work, me!

xo/ta ta,

Susie

Where I'm at.


Sullivan County weekender since 2002

Yes, it's July, and now the blog reflects it. The pic was taken at the start of the month and the end of my block.

Ah what the hey, here's another.



Lots happening. Cool new work. Exciting projects. Thank Thor.

No whammies!

I Like Weehawken in June



How about you?

Sunny Days, Chasing the Clouds Away

Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!

I got a job doing V/O for a cartoon that will air on Sesame Street next season.

I auditioned on my MacBook using standard software in the early hours, pressed record between the barks of the neighbor's dog and figured out how to convert the files to the right format.

I won't give away the premise of the piece, but trust me, it's fun and I was desperate to get it, especially because the company producing it is just too cool, doing incredibly slick and smart children's entertainment for on-air, online and more.

I love technology because it has allowed me to work from home and now allows me to snag highly exciting gigs outta the home, from home. Lemme tell ya, working from home is no party -- you work harder to prove you aren't eating bon-bons and napping all day. And I'm not working from home because I'm an anti-social shut-in. Far from it.

But if I must leave the house, it should only be for an opportunity to wear long gloves, perform in a boa, or drink frozen things on a verdant rooftop.

Don't you agree?

Today

I was on the radio, whoa oh oh oh on the radio.

Just like I toldja I'd be. Here's proof:



That's a sexy Sirius visitor name tag I'm wearing.

The show was beamed out of Cousin Brucie's studio.

And ya, I even saw Howard Stern walking the hallways. He looks good. A bit like a lurching coat rack with a perm. But good.

Excitement!

Night internet.

xo,

me

This MONDAY = This Felber on Radio

I'm co-hosting Freewheelin' with Chris T. on Sirius 147 starting at 11AM.

This is a great show... hopefully will remain so when I come on board for one day only.

Three hours of me on the radio -- why that's more fun than a barrel full of monkeys, which, ya know, doesn't sound like much full at all. There's a reason people get kegs and chips rather than barrels and primates.

Anyway, be there!

Image: Me as a guest on this show over a year ago.... and as you can tell, I've got a face made for radio.

I mainly took kid photos for my mother the romance novelist, as she begged for them almost daily. It didn't matter that she saw my boy at least every two weeks -- she checked my flickr page obsessively and regularly agitated for updates. For her, two days without a grandchild fix was a lifetime.

She died one year ago today. The yahrzeit has been burning next to the sink on a little plate since last night., in the same way and same place they'd burn in our kitchen for both sets of my grandparents. I told my brother that I didn't know exactly why I felt I had to do up the yahrzeit. He said, "Because you need juice glasses?"

(Dear non-Jew, this is hilarious, trust me on this)

I miss her terribly, but I forced myself to stop feeling sorry for myself after my large rump ran the Revlon 5k. I simply wish she had made it to meet the #00BFFF-eyed one you see above.

(Dear non-web nerds, this is clever, trust me on this)

But honestly, ever since I lost my target audience, I don't take nearly enough pictures of the new one. This one, from Monday, is for you, mom.

Apart from a perfect baby, a very imperfect year. But big changes coming. Finally. Thankfully. My mother said, "Not to worry, it will all work out." I'm amazed and grateful beyond words that she was right.

I'm ready to grow again, leaning towards the light.

Happy Memorial Day, me.

My pal Bob Shea is so fun. He has a series of 20 photos on his author fan page called "Midnight Picnic." He describes it thusly, "I kept finding the remains of a trashed party behind my house each morning. So I set up a camera."

I made the animated gif from the set for fun, but you will miss so much if you don't check out the whole series here. Love how he went the extra mile with the teacups and flowers.

When yer done, become a fan of his books (or as they now say, "like" his books) here on Facebook, because he is worthy and good and funny and all.

www.artistsinthekitchen.org

My brother Michael created this massive art spectacular from soup to nuts. Lots of free performance, parties and... art! If in NYC this weekend, don't miss it. See the website for a map and all details. I'm really proud of him for making this, his dream, a reality.

I'm quoted in this excellent piece by Carolyn Castiglia about what Mother's Day is like when you don't have your mom:

When Mother's Day Becomes Mourner's Day

I especially like it because I spend roughly 99% of my time trying to just get on with things and not complain or over share and put on a good face. Especially hard because my mother was the one I kvetched to, and she to me. So even a small quote in an article like this makes me feel like I'm not alone and I've a valid venue to be legitimately, gloriously miserable.

Image: Kind of random, but then again, she seems sad. As you would be if you were alone in a field with only celery for company.

I've written about the bad Web design play-buttons-on-noses phenom. Now, the trend seems to be play buttons on faces.

Check out this screen grab from [redacted major news organization]... can they be serious?

Below, another beautiful thing that belonged to my parents. I'd rather have them, than this, but, there it is.



Made me happy that my son noticed this lamp and was captivated by it. He kept running his hands over the reverse-painted scenes and then he said, "Boats... I like this." He's three. Normally he only pauses for trains and things you can eat or throw, so chalk this brass and glass number up as his his very first interest in design.

Yes I'm taking in a variety of things from my childhood home, but only a fraction of what was there.

For example, I loved growing up with this working 1920's barber pole in our den. But I fear living in a creepy museum of my childhood. So, the pole? Very cool. But no.

Even still, there's so much stuff I can't give up, not yet at least. And now I need to live with these things to see if I can live with them.

The lamps came last weekend. Now I know they make me happy. I can live with them.

But then there's this clock. It was wound and working in that house for well over 35 years. It's on my wall now. It chimes and there have been times that, for a moment, I don't know where I am. Every 15 minutes I'm rocketed back to there, not here. And them and me then. And the sad, crushing reality that they just aren't.

But I can't part with it yet.

My heart is still broken. But like glass left long enough in the ocean, the edges will soften.

At least, I hope so.

Otherwise the clock? It's gotta go.

Me Me Me. Also? Me.

I'm quoted a brand new article by Jen Dziura on The Gloss called:

Financial Planning for Motherhood (Just In Case You're Not Swedish)

Nice, eh?

Ya.

Oh and if you missed it, check out my fresh & hot interview with Jen Yates from Cake Wrecks.

Thanks.

My grandmother, Sadelle (Sarah) Flashenberg 1904-1972

Tonight at 8P I'm doing a special (and now sold out) show, complete with an original PowerPoint presentation filled with good stuff. Me! Doing ppt! The recently-found photo above will be in the show. Can't tell you what it's about because the story unfurls a secret history.

I love blogs, but sometimes -- and especially these days -- it's better to have a "ya hadda be there" experience, no?

I'm doing a show on April 16 called Kevin Geeks Out. It's not comedy, strictly, but it will be eally exciting. Great line-up and it's challenging me to move a story (and photos and related docs) I've had on the back burner, to the front burner. Some details below. Lots more if you follow the two links in this here blog post. Hope to see you.



Kevin Geeks Out April All Stars!
Fri, Apr 16, 2010, 8:00pm, 92YTribeca, 200 Hudson Street

Susie Felber (truTV’s Dumb as a Blog) shares the secret history of New York City Floppers and other bizarre crimes.

I've not been seen much these days. There are at least 53 good reasons for this, but knowing that everyone I've ever known or will know can see me and my ramblings, I'm loathe to get personal online. I always was, and now, even more so.

See me in person and perhaps you'll luck into my expert kvetching.

Image: My mother's favorite ring to wear at romance contentions to represent her as her alter ego, "That Layton woman."

Fending Off Fingerpaint Paparazzi

You've been warned...

Monday, March 15th, 8:30 PM
Morrison Motel @ Cornelia Street Cafe

"One of the city's best alt-comedy shows." – The NY Post

www.morrison-motel.com

Cornelia Street Cafe, 29 Cornelia Street, between Bleecker and West 4th. A,C,E,B,D,F & V trains to West 4th. 1 train to Christopher St. (212) 989-9319 for reservations. 8:30 pm. $10 cover, $7 drink minimum.

John Morrison hosts Ophira Eisenberg, Lee Camp, Rob Paravonian, Susie Felber, Charlie Kasov and Katherine Williams.

Adventures in Whack Web Design: The play-button-on-nose phenomenon.





Images: CNN.com; RadarOnline.com

Railarity

From the LIFE Magazine photo archive. Jerry Seinfeld in 1990; Phyllis Diller in 1982.





If I can find one more comedian clinging to a NYC rooftop, my week will be made.

Me performing last week. Steve's Angie surprised me a few days later with this sketch . I heart it. Thanks Ange.

Reflecting on the past.

As you may know, my mother was a prolific and respected romance novelist, who passed away this summer five years (and six books) after being diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Today, many of the novelists she knew and blogged with at Word Wenches wrote a special "fairy godmother" post for my Delia. I couldn't read it without crying, but I bet you can. Check it out here.

Related: My mother's final book, finished in March and published in October, has been nominated for RT's Best British Isles-Set Historical Romance.

Oh hey, hi -- today I'm over here doing my thang at Belabumbum.

More news and links v. shortly...

- s

Happy Hanukkah!

The oil lasted eight days!

Woo!

Ya, the lamps stayed lit. Kinda a crap miracle, compared with immaculate virgin birth, but whaddya gonna do?

Above: Delish homemade gingerbread menorahs, dreidels and such by Anne B.

Cordelia Evelyn Holland

8 lbs. 6 oz. 21 in.

Call her Delia.

Call me thrilled, exhausted, temporarily and occasionally doped up.

My mother died in June. Her final novel (pictured) came out today from Avon books. I wrote about it, and her, on Word Wenches right here.

Sometimes I forget far flung friends and family read this and not everyone knows or cares about everything in my life. Anyway, in case you do care, October 22, my brother is playing Carnegie Hall.

You can't get tickets, because they entirely sold out in 90 minutes.

Neat huh? If I can still heft myself out the door, I've been secured a comp and I'm going, even if I need to be rolled there.

Image: 1908, people flooding into Carnegie Hall for a Republican Convention. My bro's show will be more fun than that.

This movie I am in is available now on DVD. Also on iTunes and Time Warner on demand. The widget will tell you mucho more...

A star-studded movie I'm in comes to DVD 9/8/09. Now you know. Also, it's super cheap on Amazon, you cheapskates, so buy it already. Note to family across the salty pond: This won't play in yer UK machines -- rats! My college pal ex-pat friend Lara tells me most UK DVD players are now multi-region, so you can play this in UK too. Huzzah!

Today is the first day of the rest of your life, but it's also the last day to vote for my SXSW Panel!

I haven't been great about getting out the vote for this panel. Frankly, due to the work I'll be talking about, I haven't had time. And the panelists I've already lined up (with more to come) are also too busy/too important to do the same.

They say the vote is only 30% and I sure hope our lack of campaigning doesn't nix our chances.

I'm passionate about the topic -- working for online at a TV network. And I also loved SXSW, but found many of the best sounding panels were a bore because the moderators were highly qualified on paper but either shy, or didn't have a sense of how to make them entertaining for an audience.

I know I could put on a brilliantly rollicking panel about cheese or mating habits of the box turtle -- heck I've hosted odder than that. But with this, even better -- I've written and produced for on-air, off-air, online. I've appeared on-air, online, magazines, etc. But I do love the web best. And it dawned on me recently that I am an expert. I've 14 years experience working online for all kinds of sites, but tons for TV online. Just because you email or watch videos online doesn't mean you know what flies on the web or how best to hawk it. But we've all been through fire hammering out and testing what works, seeing the turnaround, knowing what has failed... the whole sheebang.

Sure, I don't know the answers to the questions I'm raising -- what is the future of TV and online entertainment -- and doubt anyone in the world does. But we might figure a thing or two out. And it'll be hella fun.

Anywho, last year I went to SXSWi for the first time as an awards finalist. For next year, I've already booked my trip and my SXSW badge. I'm going again no matter what. I know better what I can and want to get out of it. Plus, my man's best friend from chidhood in the UK just moved his tenure from U of Mich. to U of Texas in Austin -- so double score.

So if my panel is picked, great. And if it's not, I vow I'm going off the grid -- and will put on this event in some fabulous flophouse or similarly groovy Austin venue.

So, in short, pick me! Or don't. Either way it's going to be a darn good time.

Eris (& her grandpa's truck) on her wedding day

I am appearing at Lady Jane’s Salon at 7PM on Monday, July 6th to pay tribute to my mother and enjoy the work of other romance authors. Here's the line-up:

Debut historical author ANTHEA LAWSON will from her RITA nominated work Passionate

Award-winning local author DEE DAVIS will read from A Match Made On Madison

New York Times bestseller DIANA LOVE will read from Whispered Lies

SUSIE FELBER will pay tribute to her her mother, romance novelist EDITH LAYTON.

WHEN: Monday, July 6th, 7-9 PM

WHERE: Madame X, 94 Houston Street (btw LaGuardia and Thompson Streets), New York, NY 10012, 212.539.0808. Nearest subways: F,V,B,D at Lafayette, N, R at Prince Street.

Admission is $5.00 or one gently used romance novel. Proceeds to benefit Share The Love a nonprofit organization that provides gently used romance novels to groups helping women in transition, such as homeless or domestic violence shelters. Why? Because everyone deserves the pleasure of a good story and a happy ending. Co-sponsors: Share The Love and Ron Hogan of Beatrice.com. Cash bar.

The amazing ladies at SBTB and Dear Author have arranged an impressive fundraiser, auction and giveaway in my mom's name. Please spread the word if you can.

Thank you.
--Susie

Edith Laulicht. Edith Felber. Edith Layton.

Mom. Grandma.

(& Eccentric Author)

Loved. Missed.

Very Much So.

Already.

Always.

This is just a technical test for work. You can ignore or enjoy all 5 bad parking videos... Thanks.

See Spot. Run! Top 5 Worst Parking Jobs