lynnshawcroft.com

I used to have dreams where my teeth would fall out. I think this is quite common. It’s brutal. In the dream they just start to crumble or you may be talking to a door or something and you just start spitting them out. When you wake up and realize that it’s just a dream, you get that complete sense of relief that provides you with the common sense to brush and floss. I read somewhere that a girl had a tooth growing out of her nose. Cute.
I’ve been recently going to the dentist. Something that I haven’t done for a while. My teeth are shitty - got a lot of work to do. $$$$$$$. The thing I like is that I get to say to people,

‘Oh my dentist told me…”

I’ve always wanted to be able to have a set of….hmmm…I can’t think of the term..or the right way to explain this. Okay, like, you know how some people have ‘dermatologists’ or ‘analysts’ or ‘editors’ or ‘hairdressers’? For example, your having lunch with your friend Sandy and she goes,

‘Well last Saturday I was going to go hiking but my allergist told me that it wasn’t such a good idea. So instead I called my manicurist and set up an appointment since she’s in Long Beach right next to my real estate agent, Vicky”.

You see, I’ve never cultivated a consistent stable of ‘whatever’s’. Am I making sense?. I just want to, once in a while, rely on my translator or my own personal psychic to get me thru’ the day. I mean I ‘ve had a husband, a friend or a family member guide me but what about an astrologer?

Then again it seems like it might get confusin’, never mind expensive, to have such a fucking circus in place.

Oh, wait I do have Smitty who helped me rake leaves recently. And I’ve got my dentist (aka, a teether), who, I might add ‘does’ Kevin Federline.

I mostly need a Hedberg.

But then again, an entourage might be…..

I accidentally deleted a couple of comments last night. If they were yours please replace them if you want. It’s hot out -I’m gonna go lay in my Hammock (from Key West, not Key East) and read a book about The Mormon Murders.
Take care, y’all

I have a sore elbow. I don’t mean to keep on about it but I’m starting to get….stupid. I now have a brace and sling. They’re not working.
I kinda dig the sling; brings back my youth. I’ve never had a broken arm before but I used to fantasize about it when I was a kid. I used to dream ,”If only I had a cast on my arm, then every thing would be great”. I swear, thoughts of a fresh white cast danced in my head. I’d be so popular what with all the other kids lining up to sign it.
I would go the the top of the monkey bars at school and freefall, holding my breath, hoping for a fracture.
One year someone asked me “What do you want for your birthday?”.
“Oh….I’d love it if you broke my arm”
Today I’m wearing some cheap-ass sling from a box. Not the same.

I have moved this from a post on Mitch Hedberg’s Memorial Board. I apologize to those who think that is a cheap manoeuvre! However, my friend Doug Stanhope was too lazy to look it up so I dragged it over here. I know it’s long, and I swear to keep things shorter.
———————————————————-
I was telling my sis this story yesterday. Kinda funny….
Mitch and I bought a motor home a few years ago that was…a piece of shit. It was only $1500, and I think it was handmade. Anyway, we were totally excited; we thought it was awesome. (we had previously tried to buy another one for $1000 but when we went to get it we noticed that someone was sleeping in it plus you had to use a wrench to drive it somehow. Mitch bought the guy a battery, and we got the hell out of Beaumont). Hedberg had a habit of buying vehicles before test-driving them. There is a $1000-Jaguar-that-lasted-11-minutes-story, but maybe some other time. He never wanted to give the seller false hopes in case we didn’t buy it. Crazy.
So…we embark upon a cross country, multicity tour of comedy clubs in the $1500 dream camper.
We fell in love!!! Camping…cruising on the highway. Late night stops for snacks at gas stations. We didn’t care that nothing worked. It moved man, that’s all that mattered.
We took it up to Grand Forks, Atlanta, Minnesota (Arne, Mitch’s father later told us how nervous he had felt for us as we dove away from their house after we had dropped by and proudly showed him and Mary our ’sweet’ motor home. At the time Mitch and I thought that they were probably sad even a wee bit jealous because they couldn’t ride with us. I don’t know what we were thinkin’) , Kansas…..quite some distance. Mitch would snooze away on the top bed over the drivers seat as I drove. And vi ca-versa. Happy as shit.
One day we were on our way to Raleigh, NC, to work. It was a weird drive ‘cos we had to go thru’ crazy mountain passes. Mitch was driving and we stopped at a gas station to get gas. “I’ll fill ‘er!” I said, you know…doin’ my part.
So I’m pumping gas…$1.18…$1.36…$2.01…$2.28.
I notice Hedberg looking at me smiling. ” This is the life” kinda thing.
I go back to the gas…$2.77.
All of of a sudden I realize that I’m pumping gas into a hole in the side of the motor home. Not into the gas tank. I think Mitch notices too. I try to cover up by removing nozzle from said ‘hole’ and putting it into gas tank hole.
He sees. Oh shit.
I forgot to mention that we had @ another 3 hours to get to Raleigh and just enough time to go right to the club for the show. No time to chill, take a shower, recoup from the insane drive.
Cut to….me inside motor home, head under the sink wiping up gas. Not working too well.
Windows on the motorohome were opened which was easy ‘cos it was missing a few.
Mitch starts driving and within a few minutes, I look over at him. I’m terrified. His eyes are streaming tears from the gas, and he’s totally mad.
Driving, driving. Mitch starts to yell. “Lynn…what the f#%!!!”
(Wow, that’s the first time I’ve ever done the *#&$%* swear thing, it’s cool because you don’t have to preplan the ^$@ keys, or anything!)
Okay, back to this long, drawn out story.
At this point I’m too scared to breathe. (that’s if I could breathe, very difficult due to gas inhalation). I mean Mitch was an easy going and all. But this was serious. I was scared.
Approx. 45 minutes into the drive, we can barely breathe. Gas fumes everywhere, eyes watering, head starting to pound. Slightly hallucinating. Through my guilt I try to maintain “Baby, it’s not that bad. Try not to think about it. I love you. Anyone could make that same mistake. Even you coulda done it (never in a million years would he have). Besides, motor homes shouldn’t have holes in the side.”
Mitch is trying not to hate me, but he sure did loathe me. “Lynn!!”
I little while later he loses his mind. Babbling.Gas fumes in throat. Gotta get to the gig. I’m sorta blind in one eye. “C’mon Mitch this is fun!! right?” The thing is I didn’t have to perform that night. I didn’t have to be funny. Be Mitch Hedberg. I could sit back and space out due to the inevitable brain damage.
A couple of hours to go. Mitch breaks the silence. “I can’t take it!” Red face, driving crazy. “I can’t see or think….I…MAY…NEVER….BE…ABLE…TO…DO…COMEDY…AGAIN!!”
Oh shit.
“I CAN”T THINK STRAIGHT!! I DON”T REMEMBER ANY OF MY JOKES”
Great, I’ve just ended the career of a beautiful, if angry at the moment, genius. Not only have I somehow destroyed a man’s dreams, income, hope, but maybe our skin will burn like this forever. I’ve destroyed THE Mitch Hedberg.
I go, “Well, you’ve got that one about ant farms. Remember that one?…Monster Magnate?”
I just shut the *()#% up after that.
As we near Raleigh, things are a little calmer. The ‘motor home’ has aired out a little. We’re in a traffic jam. Sweet.
We go directly to the club. The shows about to start. We smell gassy. Or petroly. (that was for the Brits)
45 minutes later Mitch takes the stage. I’m nervous. Has the chemical composition of his brain returned to what was normal for him?
He rocks. Mother%^$er.
We didn’t talk about the incident for some time. When it came up much later I’m prepared to take the stance of the one that got yelled at. He does it for me, ‘I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to yell so much. it’s just that I had to do a show’
I knew exactly what he meant. The show must go on.
We made it home in that motorhome. @ 11,000 miles later.
We parked it in a RED ROOF INN parking lot with great intentions. Sell it, take it to a scrape yard, fix it up. We left it there and never went back. A while later we drove by and noticed it was gone.
A few years later we walked into a RV sales lot 8 minutes before it closed. Mitch points to a beautiful RV. It’s 35ft, brand new, 2005, fire place, amazing. We looked at it. Mitch says to the guy (who wants us to leave and stop wasting his time, so he can get the hell home).
“Um…we’ll take it. Is cash Okay?” Fastest sale ever. We didn’t even test drive it.
It’s beautiful. Mitch loved it. Many good times. And…I was even allowed to gas’er up.
Okay, that was along story. I miss Mitch is all.
Love Lynn

I am tired and I dipped into a very deep sleep early this morning. I had a dream that I was riding in the back of a pickup with Mitch. I don’t remember who was driving but we were moving pretty good on a clear and sunny day. He was sitting on the driver’s side facing forward and I was on the back wheel hump on the passenger side.

I just kept looking over at him thinking, “I knew he was still around.” He would just look over at me and smile a knowing smile, like “I know what I’m doing, it’s all ok. Everything is alright.”

I was so happy that Mitch was sitting across from me I started to cry . I reached over to hug him and then I woke up.