To All My Friends

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• December 22, 2017

Now, I realize my blogs can be quite deplorable tonally.  As well as my twitter jokes.  And my stand-up.  And just being around me in general (I was once out with my friend/comic Michael Somerville and his friend.  His friend whom I just met asked me, “what is your stand-up about?”  And without missing a beat, Somerville goes, “Sadness.”  Hahahahaha!)

This is mostly because I’m not a phony fuck like most social media whores who are painting an illusion of how great their lives are, perpetuating both their lack of happiness and others who think their lives should be as happy as your pretend life.

And yes, life is at least half the time just awful.  However, there are few people I would actually switch lives with (Kelly Slater, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, K.Flay, Henrik Lundqvists wife).  I really do have a good life in many ways.  I grew up thinking surfing and comedy were the two greatest things, and having love in my heart for both, I chased both of those things, despite the fact that they are very difficult and I often get hurt, (surfing=physically, comedy=emotionally) and so surfing and comedy are both big parts of my life which is awesome.  But a lot of the reasons I have a good life is because I’m surrounded by good people.  Yes, I am a misanthrope who avoids people at all costs, but there are a lot of people who are special to me despite this “humbug” attitude I sometimes (usually) have.

For them, I am thankful.

[If you’re not mentioned specifically in here, don’t get all butthurt, this isn’t a goddamn Emmy speech, I’m just trying to express what I’m thankful for instead of whining for a change.]

First, I don’t consider family the people you’re born into or your blood relatives.  Family are the people whom you feel happiest, safest, and most comfortable as yourself with.  Luckily for me, my family does make me feel that way.  My parents are amazing and funny people.  My cousins and friends alike always tell me how much they miss them since they moved to Florida.  How the fuck do you think I feel?  I miss them all the goddamn time.  My sister is generous and giving with a huge heart, and brought into the world my favorite little boy (and soon my favorite little girl!).  My brother is one of my best friends whom I admire for being a truly adventurous modern day pirate, brave (though sometimes really fucking stupid), and not giving a shit what the world thinks of him.  Few people are actually as free as my brother.

My parents are both one of six kids, and I have nineteen first cousins, all of whom I like and consider friends.  Certainly, there are ones I am closer with than others, but I genuinely miss them all and look forward to any occasion where I get to laugh with them.  Even ones I don’t see too often:  My cousin Matt lives in Virginia, but we have frequent phone calls, and not only do we make each other crack up, he’s one of the few confidants I trust I can tell anything to.  Of course there is Brittany who is my best friend and favorite kind of cousin (sorry other cousins and friends).  Brittany and I have been close forever.  Recently, we watched some of the “short films” we made as kids and I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard.  I thought I might actually die from laughing, and I wouldn’t have cared at all if that’s how I died.

The crew I grew up with through middle school and high school are still some of my favorite people.  And, yes, as time goes on we have branched out into our own lives but our reunions are never without laughing at old memories and having fun creating new ones.  Of course there is Jimmy who is my best friend (sorry other friends, not that you didn’t know this though).  Once, when I was in college, I told my mom I was having friends over for my birthday and we were going to drink then go to a bar, and my mom said, “and by friends you mean your cousin Brittany and Jimmy.”  Yes, that is what I meant.  Truth?  Those are two of my favorite people to be around.  I could be in a room full of people and miss them.  I could be in a room full of people with them and just talk to them because they’re the only people I want to talk to.

Comedians are some of my favorite people on this planet for many reasons.  Without continuing support from comedians I respect, admire, and have befriended, I would never be where I am today.  A special shout out to the Long Island comics.  There are times you look forward to being in a green room with comics more than being on stage.  These are guys that have me gut laughing time after time, whether we’re making fun of each other, the world, or Tim Gage.

My best friend in comedy (and he would argue in life as well) is Dennis Rooney.  Let me tell you something about Dennis Rooney… He is a real piece of shit.  Hahahahaha!  Despite the fact that he said my apartment looks “exactly what you’d expect a depressed and lonely writers apartment would look like.”  Despite the fact that he said that putting up a little Christmas tree in my apartment every year and no one sees it but me is “the most pathetic thing he’s ever heard.”  Despite the fact that he said my French Fry Day (the holiday I made up which is the only day of the year I eat french fries) makes me “the weirdest person he knows.”  Despite the fact that he couldn’t keep up with me in our book club that I forced him into.  And despite the fact that in a roast he said, “Jesus Christ, Lori, how are you a skinny blond chick with decent tits and still come off as androgynous?  You look like the fourth Hanson brother who decided music wasn’t their thing and they were gonna give skateboarding a shot,” he is a good dude, a good friend, and a good comic (also, props to him for using the word “androgynous” in a joke).  If comedy doesn’t end up being it for me, I don’t think there are that many comics I would stay friends with.  This is not to say I wouldn’t want to, or they wouldn’t want to either, but comedy is all consuming, and the fact is, if you drop out, you’re going to lose touch with most of your comedy friends just as you would if you left a job.  But I don’t think Rooney and I will ever not be friends.  And I don’t think there will ever be a time we go to the movies and not laugh our asses off at the trailers for some reason.

My writing partner Nick Griffin is also one of few reasons that has kept me going when I am down.  Which is funny.  Because if you don’t know Griffin, he is one of the most melancholy people you have ever met.  He makes me look like a ray of goddamn sunshine.  Click Nick to watch one of his many late night sets.  After doing road gigs together where we’d drive in a car for hours in silence (neither of us are keen on talking), we decided “hey, we should bring this electric energy into a pitch room.”  And then we started writing scripts together.  Griffin and I have similar tastes and sensibilities and writing with him has made me a better writer.  Sometimes, I think, he believes in me more than I believe in myself, and visa versa.  But maybe that’s one of the ingredients of being a good team.

A special shout out here to Lady Boy, who has not only acted as my personal therapist this year, but is one of the few people I’ve grown very close to in a while. [Whoosh-whoosh]

For Christmas time, I always put decorations in my windows.  I have the front windows, so I feel a sort of moral obligation to do so, because there are a lot of families in my neighborhood who do a good job of decorating, and when I was a kid, I just adored Christmas lights (I still do, actually).  For someone that hates religion, I really like Christmas.  My landlord likes my window display too.  Every Christmas I give my landlord a card full of scratch offs because all elderly women love scratch offs and she’s yet to raise my rent since I’ve moved here and I appreciate that because I couldn’t afford this apartment otherwise and I fucking love this apartment and where I live, it is amazing.  My landlord, Pilar, is just the sweetest.  She’s a tiny but spunky 80-something year old Spanish woman who on numerous occasions tells me I’m beautiful, hugs me, and tells me she loves me.  When we have conversations, neither of us can really understand the other because her English is poor and my Spanish is nonexistent, so I think we may have different definitions of the word “love” or it is one of the few words she knows.  Still, I am appreciative of her warmth.  There have been times where her hugs were the most affection I had received in months.  She’s always telling me if I need anything to let her know.  Um… you’re 87, you let me know if you need anything.  I am fine.  This year she gave me Christmas gifts.  They were both wrapped and she tells me, “this one is soap, this one is candy.”  Well, that kind of defeats the purpose of wrapping them but thank you, Pilar.  Pilar, I know you’ll never read this, but I think your warm maternal energy has something to do with why I love this place so much and it is Home.  Even though you once told me I was “the best tenant because I never have company,” I know you meant that out of love and not to point out that I am very lonesome.

There are many lessor known people I am thankful for too.  People who message me on Facebook to tell me my jokes make them laugh everyday.  The guys who work at my bodega who I banter with.  Familiar faces of surfers in the ocean who’s happiness is contagious.  You, blog reader, who reads this blog.

To all my friends— the ones I’ve known forever, the ones I’ve lost touch with, past employees, every comic that made me laugh, the people I’m related to, the new people in my life:  I know I can be really shitty at expressing gratitude, but please know I have love in my heart for you.

Lastly, I’d like to thank Jesus.  Just kidding.

“And my friends, I’ve
Returned to wish you all the best
And my friends, I’ve
Returned to wish you a Happy Christmas”

-Sufjan Stevens, “Sister Winter”