Wheel Life

Crowley Cheese and roses in my kitchen


Crowley Cheese, pears and carrots in my kitchen and in my baby

Top photo: My Nikon D50
Bottom photo: My crappy cell phone

What happens when I brush my hair out:


Felber lets her freak flag fly

Lawd, this photo is 8 years old. Thanks Google. Thanks Brad.

And Now For Something Completely Different

This is hilarious:

HOW TO: Integrate social media into a funeral but in a classy way.

Trolls in the Hamptons by Celia Jerome

That there is yet another fantastic new book by someone I know.
Now you know.

O What a Feeling

I got cast as Oprah in a cartoon about the letter "O" for Sesame Street. I went totally over-the-top with a booming, regal, caffeinated version for the chat queen. It was super fun.

After my record we learned that the real Oprah decided she would voice it -- a total coup for the production company. And although I got bumped, in a strange turn of events, I actually got paid a bit more because she was involved.

Apart from the producers, and a woman from Sesame, only Oprah and her sound guy heard me. Word came that Oprah thought I was "so cute" and her audio engineer thought my version was aces.

Oprah did a great job as herself. And I have scored lots more voice over work since. Happy happy joy joy. I feel lucky all around.

Sure, I had a brief fantasy that she'd be so crazy about my hilarious Fauxprah that she'd have to know who I was and she'd find my mother's books and she'd be so touched by my sad story that she'd finally choose one of my mother's novels -- even though she never picks a happy-ending title and I'd wind up in the big comfy chair next to her, trying not to get weepy as I discussed ovarian cancer, women's fiction and what it's like seeing your mother through chemo and then hospice when you're pregnant, working and you both know she's not going to make it to the last book on her contract or the grandchild.

In real life there are sublime moments but not many happy endings. But that's why we crave fiction and why in this suck-filled world, escapist fiction is so delicious.

Of course I knew that was absurd fantasyland stuff not fit for telling anyone, but here I am saying it on my blog.

A few days later she selected the female-fearing Franzen as her next and possibly final book-club pick.

It's midnight. That's all folks.

New Old News


Hey I'm awesome part #42466:

Ad Rants picked up my original photo (above) and proofreading FAIL item.

I just sold a joke to Glamour.

Issue and details TK.

New venue for me.

I feel pretty.

The joy of my new freelance life is branching into new venues. Here's one of them: I'm writing for a new Jewish parenting site called Kveller.com. My first piece is chat between my brother Adam and I about how we celebrated Christmas. Check it out below.

The Jews Who Did Christmas on Kveller.com

More to come.

Image: Jewish Christmas Tree Ornament by blind_donkey on Flickr

My boss and a pal both wore the same costumes with their youngest child on Halloween. Noticed this on Facebook, got their blessings and made it an US Weekly type feature w/poll. You have until Wednesday to weigh in on my WHO WORE IT BETTER: Superhero duos in NYC edition. Scope the link above to see the pics and vote.

Image: Just another snap I took of Weehawkoween 2010. Click to enlarge.

Behind the Screams: 23 Horror Secrets Revealed

Link above goes to a photo gallery I wrote and produced that launched just before Halloween.

Lots of fun and the co-writer and director of these flicks is an old Bennington College buddy. So there's the real behind-the-scenes info.

I'm loathe to write the name of the college because although a few of my pals who hail from this liberal arts money drain have made something of themselves, it should have a disclaimer. Maybe something like what Weight Watchers does after every success story they publish:

This movie director attended Bennington College.*

*Results not typical.

One week ago my son, pictured left, turned four. This was cause for much celebration, pictured right.

Photo by the very talented, charming and young Chase Guttman

For this and this I am now a FOAMer -- for life! Click on the genuine gif certificate above to be wowed by this real virtual honor.


Hooray!

Forgot to mention: I've got an article in the current issue of Beer Advocate, seen above. Really.

Yes, still doing all my other gigs: Writing for TV, online, radio and doing V/O. I'm digging this freelance thang. Now, gotta go write jokes for a new venue. Details when and if they fly.

I'm going to post here every day in November. I'm not saying it's gonna be brilliant -- I'm implying it.

Personal blogs -- especially these here Blogger blogs -- are generally old-fangled, neglected and ripe for a recovery.

Plus, even though I manage many accounts, I kinda hate Twitter with the fire of a thousand suns.

And it's good to just do and share any flavor of creative stuff, no matter how crap.

So hi and/or welcome back, enjoy or scoff. I'm doing this for you whoever you are but mainly for me.

Image: One of more than 100 images I took of Halloween in Weehawken. As you can see, Weehawkoween 2010 did not disappoint.

Pretty amazing...


what has grown at the Bethel Harvest Festival.

Sneakers rising over Weehawken

Weighty


The paperweight above belonged to my mother, now it's mine. She died last year, while I was pregnant, and caring for her while working full time from her home. And that's just for starters.

How much has changed since then. And how incapable I am still in sharing more.

But how I miss her.

I feel lucky having her and my father as long as I did, considering.

But still and all, how unlucky I feel no longer having parents. And how unreal that she knew about, but slipped away before meeting my Delia on the outside.

Yes, this is a rare pity party and you are all invited.

Felber B-Roll: Car Talk Jokes edition

Here's the segment that aired on Car Talk today about King Tut's Chariot, which now on display in NYC's Times Square. You can see the gags that aired, and, even better, listen to Tom and Ray describe them here.

And below, here is the full plate of my brilliant hack writing about this 3,000 year-old mobility marvel. FYI I'm not the only funny person contributing jokes, two other LA-based comedy writers are also zapping it in to CT HQ. Anywho, what's below is mine and either didn't make it or was tweaked. Enjoy! Groan! Repeat!

Features of King Tut's Chariot -- revealed!

Cell Phoenicia charger

Rearview Mummies

24-hour Pharaoh-dside assistance

Polytheistic coating

Curseless entry

Satellite oracle

Deity-side airbags

RA-and-pinion steering

De-Isis-er

Of course, an earlier model was recalled "to work out the Sphinx."

Canoptic jar holders

Mini Frankincense tree to hang on horse's tail

Catalytic Cleopatras

Hieroglyphic Converters

Obelisk shift

Rosetta Stone rack

Hybrid horse/slave power

Linen floor mats

Under-chariot neon

Wipers and embalmer fluid

GPS: Global Papyrus System

5 years or 50,000 royal cubit warranty

Flaxseed oil inidicator light

In chariot symbols: Wavy-lines for air conditioning, pyramid for hazard light symbol and eye for back up cameras

"When the previous owner said parting with it was a sacrifice, he really meant it."

Or, re: Tut possibly dying in a accident in that chariot: "When Tut said parting with it was a sacrifice, he really meant it." (Ba dum bum!)

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.