It's Not Going To Be Okay...But That's Okay

By Burt Teplitzky

Many of these stories have been percolating for years inside of Burt Teplitzky's brain (well, that is...what is left of it after the 70's) and have not been told before, at least in public. This book's content reads more like a stand up comedy routine so we can more easily absorb life's adventures and difficulties. Please enjoy laughing at Burt's pain and suffering. And, always remember it's not going to be okay. Oh, and while reading, you may want to remove any sharp objects from within your reach so you don't stab (intentionally) yourself while reading. This book is also available in audiobook format.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Burt Teplitzky
• Release date: Aug 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370199624

Burt Teplitzky

Burt is an author of two books, stand up comedian, keynote speaker, sales trainer and former managing partner of the World Famous IMPROV Comedy Club's Corporate Training Division as well as former Florida licensee for the IMPROV Comedy Traffic Schools. He is divorced and lives in Los Angeles area. Okay girls, not all at once...

Book preview

Introduction

WAS THAT REALLY NECESSARY?

Burt Teplitzky

Was that really necessary? This book, I mean. For me it was. And, I think it will help many people needing to laugh and get through some wild stuff they may be dealing with. If I can get through the stories in this book, and tackle it with humor, I believe you can do the same.

Let me just say that I feel great about this book because it comes directly from my heart and my life. And the comedy included is completely organic, meaning it comes from the situation, which really all good sitcom writing does. And, I believe this is the only project I completed that my former wife actually thinks is not a horrible idea. So, because she is way smarter than me, I think we have a winner.

A little about me. Growing up mostly in Orange County with a mother and father who worked as a real estate sales team, our world was full of motivational meetings, awards for top producers, and all kinds of quotes to keep these hard working sales people from ever being discouraged, which happens pretty easily. My world was also full of extremely high expectations. I’ve seen so many once-inspired people fall to hard times, and on many occasions, due to little or no fault of their own. This includes me. I write about these times. I just deal with them differently; with comedy and humor. Not to mention doing it this way is much cheaper than going to a shrink. Plus, I’m not sure Obamacare covers break ups and stalkers. Does State Farm or Geico offer stalker insurance?

At my parent’s house, I would see these quotes laying around everywhere, and I started to pick up on them. Luck plus hard work equals success. The harder I work, the luckier I get. If I had eight hours to chop down a tree, I’d spend six sharpening the blade. My father even claimed he was convinced to go ahead with a life-saving surgery because of the words of the motivational speaker Jim Rohn, who later apparently inspired Tony Robbins. The Self-Help books available at the time to help people deal with life were abundant. There was, I’m Okay--You’re Okay, In Business as in Life--You Don’t Get What You Deserve, You Get What You Negotiate, Getting To Yes, Men are Just Desserts, and my favorite, Men Are Pigs and Deserve To Die. Wow, that seems a little harsh, but not necessarily always wrong.

I even wrote a couple of books myself: Sell It With Humor and Stand up For Your Success. These are business and self-help/inspirational books wrapped in humor. Humor helps make those messy aspects of life a little easier to deal with. I believe that’s why comedy clubs are full almost every night, and why network television, the internet, and cable always seem to be adding new comedies. Comedy softens life’s many blows. A friend of mine, Diane, recently told me she had an unusually nasty run in with her ex, who is also her daughter’s father. She showed me the emails and texts. He said horrible things to Diane, things that should have never been said, and the threats, they never seemed to end. She told me that humor helps her get through life. I believe it certainly helps most of us. It’s a great stress reliever. Diane recently said to me, That’s why I wrap humor around life. Without humor around it, how in the world could life ever be okay? My response: It can’t be.

Some of the stories in this book are more serious than others. I suffered concern about all of them at the time. This is the stuff of comedy. They say, Tragedy plus time equals comedy. I believe this to be true. Stand up comedy routines, sitcoms, and comedy movies, are mostly filled with awful circumstances that none of us would want to be involved with. Yet, we laugh at the person or people suffering through them. We always have, and we probably always will. But those people, in those shows (which really mostly represent the writers’ lives), live to make us laugh another day.

I’ve read the motivation books. I’ve gone to the seminars. One time only, I even went to see Robert Schuller, the late famous pastor, speak at the Crystal Cathedral in Garden Grove, California. On that day, the author of the book The Power of Positive Thinking, Norman Vincent Peale, spoke words of wisdom. So inspiring. We all walked out of that event ready to take on the world, and I walked out with a couple of phone numbers, too. One young woman I met there told me, A church is a hospital for sinners. Wow, what a thing to hear, especially since I am Jewish. No wonder I felt so at home at the event. There seems to be so much anxiety in the world, maybe there always has been, but I was too busy being immersed in comedy to see it. That’s okay, I don’t mind hiding out there.

These positive quotes, books, and seminars make us feel great, and they give us some tools to help us be happier. I learned, however, that so many bad things can, and will, happen in our lives that there are no number of books or self-help gurus that can help realistically with all problems. Sometimes things just go wrong. Jim Rohn died. James Fixx of The Complete Book of Running died of a heart attack, while jogging. Robert Schuller ultimately suffered from financial disaster and died, and Norman Vincent Peale died from old age. The list goes on. There is Robin Williams, David Bowie, etc. My dad passed away from undetected cancer. Yet, I am here writing, and you are here reading, and even though horrible things happen to us, at some point today, many of us will probably have ice cream. I’ll have a scoop of Rocky Road please. So, it is okay, really.

This book will make you laugh, and it will make you feel better about your life. It must. And each story ends with a bit of salvation. As a warning, I have been single quite a long time in my life. I’m fine with it. I find relationships and dating amusing, entertaining, and at the same time, terrifying. There is definitely a Stephen King aspect to being single as long as I have (meaning crazy and unexpected things happen) and it can be filled with anxiety and very strong emotions. So, there are a few more of those types of stories in this book. Hopefully these stories will convince you to stay in your relationship, or stay married. If they don’t, then please accept my sympathy. You’ve been warned.

I once read a Harvard study confirming that 90 percent of the things we worry about never happen. So, you should be fine. Then again, I also read that Harvard is conducting face transplants. Where do I sign up for that? I’ll take something in a George Clooney, or a Brad Pitt.

Good luck and I hope you enjoy reading about my struggles, as well as enjoy the comedy embedded within each of stories that helped me through life. At my rate of gaining new experiences, I’m sure Volume 2 will be out shortly.

Enjoy. And while you read, and as a precautionary measure, please remove any sharp objects within your reach.

Cheers (not the television show),

Burt Teplitzky

CIGAR GIRL

We humans are rarely rational, or practical. We let our emotions do the thinking. And, if you’re a man, we let something else do the thinking. That’s right, our hormones. I don’t think these little guys will ever go away. Oh, they may get a little weaker, but like the Marines, they just keep on coming.

Recently, I attended my nephew’s Bar Mitzvah. For you non-Jews, this is a ceremony for a Jewish male when he turns thirteen years of age, and becomes a man. There is a similar ritual for Jewish girls called a Bat Mitzvah. These events can be quite profitable for the honoree. These events can also sometimes be quite beneficial for those attendees who are single, such as yours truly. This day, not all eyes were on my nephew while he became a man. There was this assistant photographer. She was a beautiful woman. Nobody could keep their eyes off of her. I believe even my nephew forgot a few of his memorized Hebrew words whenever she would walk by or take a picture. I wondered why every sentence my nephew said ended with, Can we hear an Amen for the woman in the red dress? Nope, I don’t remember that being in the Torah. Each time she walked by me, I forgot something, too. My name… and anything else I had apparently had ever learned. Which is fine, because I went to public school.

After introducing myself to this goddess photographer, she took my picture and moved on with her life without even blinking. Of course, I couldn’t let this go because this could be the girl of my dreams…again. After talking to her for a while, I could see she was smart, beautiful, talented, funny and clearly way too good for me. I did what any self-respecting person would do in her presence; I gave her my business card and begged her to call me. She actually took a picture of me begging for the date. It was my most flattering picture of the day. My left profile begging pose is awesome. I later found the business card I gave to her. She apparently kept it for safekeeping, in the trash. At least no one will steal it. A mistake, I’m sure. Mystery woman’s name was Eda, and she was originally from Afghanistan. I love Europe. Wait, damn public school system. She was certainly my unattainable dream girl (of the month).

Once again, I summoned the nerve to invite Eda out. She hesitated to accept. In these situations, for some reason, I always say to myself, What would Captain Kirk do? That is when she admitted that she tossed my card into the green trash can, and she would like to think about it. Hey, at least she is honest. And, she recycles! Good qualities in a person. We agreed on a date and a time to get together, and she said she would call me.

Here’s the interesting part. Before I walked away, she said something that threw me for a slight loop. She said, I hope you like cigars. I said, Excuse me? She replied, I smoke cigars every day and every night. I love exotic cigars from all over the world, and I smoke both indoors and outdoors. I hope you like them, too. Do you? Is this a trick question? Just to let you know, I am as allergic to smoke as anyone could ever imagine. Me around smoke? I would be in the hospital in ten seconds. Why couldn’t I just say no to her? I just can’t. I think you get the picture about me and my weaknesses. In essence, my weaknesses are most women, allergies, and buffets. However, I was not about to let this opportunity pass me by. For people like me, this is clearly a once in a lifetime opportunity. And I don’t want to be alone my entire life. So, I’m going to take a chance, even if I have to suffer through a long bout of lung cancer to do it. So, of course I told her, "Smoking cigars is wonderful, I do it all the time. I love to smoke smelly, stinky cancerous cigars." Of course, I left that last part out. In reality, I had only smoked a cigar one time previously. I took a single puff at a party once. I turned blue and it took me two weeks to get over my coughing spell, and even longer than that to get the stench out of the ambulance’s upholstery that drove me to the ICU.

Finally, it was time for our date. We met for dinner at a somewhat fancy Newport Beach restaurant, and all heads were turned in our direction. I can assure you all eyes were not on me, unless it was to wonder why she was with me. My date smelled amazing, like a cigar from Havana, Cuba, I believe. We had a couple glasses of wine and I invited her back to my place to smoke cigars because I love them so much, and I miss them. She said that sounded nice, and then she proceeded to the restroom while I paid the check. People came up to me for no reason to congratulate me. Was I running for president and forgot my name was on the ballot? I stood in line to pay at the bar, at this point I didn’t want to wait for the waiter to pick up the check. All men know that any delay, no matter how slight, might cause a cigar-smoking hot date (no pun intended) to change her mind.

The customers, realizing this is a rare opportunity for me, pushed me to the front of the line and insisted I pay first. Then, they ushered me out to my car, changed my oil, and all wished me good luck. All I can say is it was a good thing we were meeting at night and that cigar girl had two or more glasses of wine. I’m sure she didn’t see Brad Pitt, but hopefully she didn’t see Richard Dreyfuss, either. I keep comparing myself to Richard Dreyfuss. It’s getting better, I used to be compared to Marty Feldman, very bad. Look him up, not good. My Miss Havana followed me over to my place in her car. Well, I think it was her car, there was so much smoke bellowing out from the driver’s window I couldn’t see anything. It was at that moment I realized that Eda is the sole cause of global warming. But, the world will let it slide for her, I’m sure. We arrived at my place. She carried with her a large collection box of smelly, expensive cigars. The odor from this box was so strong I think Fidel Castro would have switched to mint-coated nicotine chewing gum.

Again, she asked, You sure you love cigars as much as I do? And don’t lie. Men tell me they love cigars all of the time, just to try to sleep with me, can you believe that? I thought, No. Absolutely not. I can’t believe someone would risk their life with smoke inhalation just to sleep with you. I was hoping I was the only one. She continued with, I better not see even one little indication you don’t love cigars as much as I do, or I will pack up my Cubans and leave. Of course I immediately assured her I would most likely live through the experience. Also, I quickly updated my will just in case I died from suffocation. At least I would die with a smile on my face. If I do die smiling, Eda is the perfect person to take that photo. If I go that night, I would want that picture shown during my eulogy, and I want it also as my permanent social media profile picture. However, all of that wouldn’t matter I suppose, because my home would most likely be burned down and all documents, as well as any life in the area, would most likely not survive. And I would receive nothing from insurance if this happened because there is a no smoking clause in my insurance policy.

As I said, death by cigar smoke is fine with me, at least for tonight with Eda. I will take that risk. My final request, if I was to cease to exist after tonight, was to have sex with Eda before or at least during my final breath. I know, so shallow. As I’m writing this, I can still smell that nasty third hand smoke. Yes, third hand. It would be Eda first, then me, then me again just to be sure Eda was a witness to me breathing in that nasty smoke.

I took a single whiff of one cigar she gave me and it made me so sick I felt dizzy and almost passed out. It wasn’t even lit. She lights one, I immediately almost vomited. The smell of disgusting smoke was everywhere. It was on my clothes, furniture, and had started to permeate my skin. The only place the smoke wasn’t affecting me was my hair, for the obvious reason that I am bald, and it’s a good thing, too, because even washing my head with a combination of Comet and baking soda still wouldn’t get the odor off of my Rogaine-resistant scalp. Does Febreze make a shampoo? Was I still willing to go through with this? Absolutely. At this moment, death had little meaning to me. Sex with Eda is now my final wish. That, and a newly certified fire extinguisher.

I am so proud of myself; during our first cigar, I passed her smoke screen test by not sweating, coughing or passing out. But the allergy was coming on strong. And I had no Benadryl with me, damn. When I bought the condoms, alcohol, gum and air fresheners, I knew I should have purchased allergy medication and burn relief lotion. After ruining my living room furniture, I suggested we smoke cigars in my bedroom. I know, I’m so smooth, right? She asked if I had a balcony in there. I said, No, but I do have a newly installed smoke alarm and a fire sprinkler. We head to the bedroom, the longest walk ever. Every single step was torture because of the stench from the smoke, and also, I’m out of shape.

With each step I moved closer to my allergy-driven death. My throat was rapidly closing faster and faster. I kept saying to myself, Just a few more steps, you can do it. I can smell death. I couldn’t think of a single regret should this be my last night on the planet, except that I wish I wasn’t so cheap and that I had purchased some Benadryl. Damn. I only knew Eda and I needed to make love before she would inevitably have to call 911 so they can attempt to resuscitate me. The room was filled with smoke. I was fading fast. Actually, at this point, I wouldn’t have even cared if she didn’t call 911. I would just limp or crawl to the hospital, if I was still breathing. I didn’t want to bother her while she would be enjoying her cigar.

We’re in my bedroom, smoking our third nasty cigar. My eyes were burning and watering, and I am coughing. No, I was choking actually. The gagging sounds are similar. Eda said, Wait, are you having a slightly negative reaction to my cigars!? I said, "No, not slight at all (cough cough). I am just emotional because I love cigars so much. These are tears (cough cough) and coughs of joy." Smelly clothes are thrown everywhere, and I can’t breathe. I’m dying for sure. My throat is closed, and I’m breathing through my ears. I may not make it. Do I care? Not in the least. We’re in bed. My sheets, pillow, and blanket now smell like burnt bodies. All of my bedroom linen and furniture is ruined, and any pets I may have had would now be dead. Do I care? Nope. Ever make out with someone while crying and breathing through your nose? Congratulate me. We’re doing it. She stinks. I stink. Everything stinks. She’s moaning. I’m seriously choking and gagging, and ready to pass out. Does that stop me? No way. I’m just getting started with my first real brush with death, and I’m loving it.

The next day, I felt like it would be easier just to move then to fumigate and replace everything. I found Eda’s cigars disgusting, but I’m pretty sure Eda having sex with me was no prize. Eda and I did go on one more date in Hollywood. We went to Cigar-A-Rama. Guess what my new favorite hobby is? And my new favorite drink is a Benadryl sex on the beach. Or, anywhere.

Why it will be okay: I knew this was an adventure I would always remember, if I lived through it. And, I learned something I didn’t know before. I learned about the world of cigars and about people from all over the world with a strong passion for them. If the same situation recurred, would I do it again? Absolutely. I already purchased Benadryl. Now, where can I find another Bar Mitzvah?

SEXY PROSTATE

Health issues plague our family. My father passed away a few years ago. He tried to fight it, but he had Stage Four Kaiser. A little joke. But yes, it was cancer that got my dad. And, I also believe Kaiser could have done a little more to help. Evidence shows that my family has a long history of high blood pressure, high cholesterol, high anxiety and high electricity bills. Yes, people in our family history seem to suffer from never turning off televisions, air conditioners or water faucets. Our mental health background? Mostly neurotic it seems. Luckily there was no such thing as labels back then. I guess we Teplitzkys were generally socially acceptable. Well, there were a few issues passed on to us. For example, germaphobia didn’t exist back then. Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD) did exist, where we were just thought of as being lazy. The cure? Give the damn kid more exercise, and some house duties. Bipolar? That meant do not date that person. Back in the day, bipolar also was defined as two polar bears. Get it? I couldn’t resist.

My health concern? I am mostly concerned about melanoma. A skin cancer that really is not curable or manageable. We have a family history of that. My father passed away from melanoma. Usually, people get melanoma from too much sun exposure. Sun exposure? How much sun exposure is too much? Growing up, my sisters and I went to the beach every day during the summers and baked ourselves in the sun for eight straight hours, every day. Is that too much sun? I don’t even think sunscreen had been invented yet. What did we have to protect ourselves against the UV rays? I believe our only sun defense back then was a thick face paint called Mr. Frog. Well that, a hat, and a mother constantly yelling, "Get out of the