Fake Face, Day 30

Hey Kling-dongs. 

That’s my new brand of plastic wrap with cartoon dicks all over it. To be used to cover the left over deviled eggs at your bachelorette party. 

Do people like deviled eggs? They seem like a staple at family parties. You see them arrive in their special little caddy but you never actually see people eating them. BUT, the mystery–there are never any left over because Uncle Marty throws his hands in the air and goes “awww who ate all the deviled eggs?!” and everyone laughs, except for Aunt Edy because she and Uncle Marty had a falling out years ago, in which Marty forgot about, but Edy still shoots stingy remarks about Marty under her breath to any female relative in near proximity. No one likes Edy, she should just let it go. 

But I digress. 

DAY 30.

BLOG CHALLENGE.

QUESTION: What’s in your makeup bag? (revs blow torch, lowers mask)

As a person who dumps more money into Sephora than should be legally allowed, you’d think I’d be able to talk about all the super great things I have in my 5 different makeup bags that turn me from 8 year-old boy to 40-something drag superstar. But alas, I’m still trying to pull off  the “She’s All That” look before she actually turns “All That.”

So why do you need 3 different gold eyeliners for all those New Year’s parties you’re not going to? BECAUSE.

What about this $50 smokey eye palette? I NEEDED it and Pinterest gave me a vague idea of how to use it, so leave me alone I just want to rock the two black eyes that gorilla gave me when he punched me at the zoo. 

I enjoy makeup, but anything above “you don’t look completely dead” makes me feel like a clown. Everything in moderation. Except for things with sugar in them. You can have extra of that. 

Anyways, new topic, I have half an episode left of the X-Files and the last movie before that chapter of my life comes to a close. It’s bittersweet because X-Files was a crutch for me, BUT I mentioned that I would be starting some new (relative term) shows like Twin Peaks, The Sopranos, The Wire, etc. AND GUESS WHAT? I got a request from a lo-lite (my nickname for anyone who has ever enjoyed any of my humor in any capacity) to live-tweet my thoughts on Twin Peaks. The idea that anyone would want my opinion or reaction to anything is extraordinarily flattering. SO THANK YOU!

ONE MORE DAY LEFT OF THE BLOG CHALLENGE! 

Lolo signing off.

Until next time, my Quispy Queens.

SHOWCASE! And Other Emotions.

Hey kittens!

I’m pretty sure it’s only been two days but it’s felt like an eternity since we last looked longingly into our computer screens at one another’s words and stuff.

Fitting, as George Michael’s “Kissing a Fool” is playing in the background. *kisses screen* Is this weird? Shh, I don’t care. Turn down that backlight while I slip into something more comfortable. *sets up gel wrist cushions to prevent tendonitis*.

Anyways, I’ve been really sick the past few days. There’s a Steve Martin quote from his book “Born Standing Up” that talks about how before preforming an important show the nerves you get as a performer can fight off weight gain and illness, yet 24 hours after you’ve finished the show, you succumb to complete exhaustion and flu-like symptoms.

I’m flu-like symptoms. Hold me. Brush my hair. Tell me I look fine with braces.

But look, I kept my promise! I attached a picture of my gems and footwear that I wore at my showcase.

Why yes, those are RingPop shoes with a a bejeweled RingPop necklace.

Apparently the gummy bear knuckle ring was sparkling so brightly that 3 people in the audience were blinded. There might be a class action suit against me but I don’t really know because I make things up.

Being in the green room was fun. Although I sounded like a clydesdale hoofing it up and down the stairs in the RingPop shoes. There was a lot of excited and nervous energy, but I started getting distracted and I could tell the order of my jokes was running away  down the street to the restaurant I knew I’d be eating at after. I had to stand in a corner and face the wall and shout my jokes at the water heater to make sure they didn’t order a salad over the French onion soup. I ended up getting both later, but that’s besides the point.

The theme of my set was babies. Terrible, terrible babies. I felt a little cliche being a ladygirl and talking about all those darn babies that ruin her life. I have better premises, but there are some that I want to spend more time on because they are like my children (not babies though, gross) and I want to nurture them with PopTarts and watch them grow.

But I did well! Minus blanking when I got up on stage! But that’s okay, because my dress had pockets that I nervously shoved my set list in, along with some granola bar crumbs and a straw wrapper.

I changed a lot of my jokes last minute because I wasn’t feeling 100% behind my material (Even though I had 2 months to prepare. I get a sick pleasure out of torturing myself by doing things last minute. And by last minute I mean changing jokes while I’m pacing in the hall waiting to go on.)

I also didn’t tighten the mic stand because I have marshmallow arms. It started to slowly get lower and lower, so I looked like a troglodyte hunching over the big noise boom stick.

But yay!

This was something I always wanted to do, and the only thing I’ve really cared about consistently. I can play about one and a half songs on every instrument known to creation. I’m decent at roller derby. I can brush my cat really well so she doesn’t get hair balls. But stand-up is my favorite thing and has been since elementary school. In my head I have a reputation of being the crazy girl who shows up to everybody’s comedy shows (famous or local) and has a big goofy smile and eyeballs popping out of her face. I’m not crazy just so excited it that it looks crazy. “My Heart Will Go On” just came on the radio. I think that’s a sign that shows my intentions are as pure as a sweaty palm print in a Renault Type CB Coupe de Ville.

Yoouuuu’re heerrre…therreee’s NOOOOTHIN’ I FEEAAR.

Oh shit, my favorite song (“Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’) came on after that. This the best day ever. Dance children, DANCE.

Alright, maybe there is a tinge of whacka-doo, but those are great songs and you know it.

Have a great night, and until next time my little PopSharts!

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11.

List 15 of your favorite things.

You’d think that would be a good question for #15.

But it’s not it’s number 11 on DAY 11 of the BLOG CHALLENGE.

It’s very open ended. Hmm…Well. In no particular order, here are 15 of my favorite things in list form!

1) The X-Files.

2) Stand-up comedy.

3) Animows (animals for you lay persons).

4) Reading self-help books.

5) Mocha iced coffee. Slurp, slurp, slurp.

6) Cartoons! Muppets! Hooray!

7) Netflix. God Bless America. Is the B in bless capitalized? I don’t know, it looks weird without it. I blame the structuring of song titles for that.

8) French onion soup. French onion dip. French onion everything.

9) Singing. I did that for a while.

10) Convincing people they should be my friend because I love them.

11) Lipstick and nail polish. BALLAH.

12) Wearing whatever I want. Platforms. Spaceship sandals. Wookie t-shirts.

13) Singing in the car and driving around in general. I turned on the radio and was greeted with the Pokemon theme song followed by Istanbul (They Might Be Giants). I nearly drove my car straight to the moon.

14) Coke. Either in a can or fountain.

15) Pretzel m&m’s.

Yay!

Those are 15 of my favorite things! Cool, right?

No?

Well fine.

Until next time, my crepe-nuts.

 

P.S. I forgot to mention my kitty, MooMoo. 😀

DAY 5…BLERG CHERLERNG

10 Songs I Love … RIGHT NOW.

These really are just songs I don’t get sick of. 

1. Rock Lobster- B52’s

2. Losing My Religion – R.E.M.

3. The Logical Song- Supertramp

4. Somewhere Only We Know – Keane (Leave me alone.)

5. Would I Lie to You?- Charles & Eddie

6. Space Age Love Song- A Flock of Seagulls

7. Two Weeks- Grizzly Bear

8. Video Games- Lana del Rey (I KNOW. But I still think it’s great.)

9. Livin’ Thing- Electric Light Orchestra

10. Escapade- Janet Jackson

 

I was going to put all the YouTube links to the songs, but then I got distracted by my YouTube recommendations and ended up watching an hour long HBO show on comedians.

Oh well.

I added the Rock Lobster one!

Okay, until next time my little plerp nerbs!

Please Haunt Me, Greg Giraldo

I’ve had a talent for willing bizarre things in my life. That includes both good and bad.

Some include:

  • Getting my favorite comedians to retweet me or mention me on a podcast.
  • Getting caught in the middle of a shootout.
  • Dancing around as a Van Halen girl on a movie set for 5 hours.
  • Having a homeless guy chase me through a parking lot and jangle his junk around while pointing at me.

All  instances that I followed coincidences to get to.

I like the idea of synchronicity and every time I’ve followed it, I’ve come out the other end with some sort of story to tell about it.

Greg Giraldo, an awesome comedian, keeps popping up.  In conversations, books,  and on TV. More than I’ve ever seen before, especially considering he died three years ago. I can’t turn a corner without someone mentioning him or some outlet referencing his stand-up.

It’s great, but it’s becoming unavoidable.

So I pulled up some video from his tribute special on Comedy Central. There’s a small segment of him describing his stand-up as “puckish.” I instantly thought of Puck from the Real World circa 1994. That and a Midsummer’s Night Dream poster with Michelle Pfeiffer on it, that hung in my 8th grade English class.

My ability to retain information has gone down since a six month stint in college, so I looked up “puckish.”

Essentially: “playful, in mischievous way.”

An adorable way to describe his comedy.

Then I thought to myself, I wish Greg Giraldo would haunt me and be my spirit guide in the world of comedy.

I thought on it for a while and thought of all the fun adventures we’d have.

Then I went and packed my crap up to go gym.

About ten minutes later, I went outside and opened the driver side door of my car and leaned across it. I threw my gym back to the passenger side, my ass is hanging out the door.

PSSST!

I turned around and looked at my house, thinking maybe my mom was trying to get my attention. Nothing was there.I turned back and started to climb into the car, ass still hanging out, I heard it again.

PSSSSST!

I turned around again, embarrassed, thinking someone was making fun of my ass and I hadn’t been sharp enough to catch them the first time. I turned back to the car.

PSST!!!

I looked around again, at the door of the house, the windows, the neighbors houses, behind the cars. I felt like an asshole. Was someone playing a joke on me and my ass?

It wasn’t an animal, there was no one around, and I haven’t smelt burning feathers recently. It sounded like someone was trying to get my attention.

Awfully, PUCKISH, amiright?

I scrambled into the car, locked the doors, and drove on the lawn.

Could this be another stepping stone on the synchronicity trail?

I’m going to meditate more on this and I’ll let you know if I conjure up anything else.

Until next time, fart-ners.

Attempting Normal

Hooray!

Marc Maron’s new book, “Attempting Normal” comes out today.

I pre-ordered mine in hopes to get the signed poster that was being offered. I sent my e-mail requesting one last week but didn’t get a response (to confirm or deny) being able to get one. My neurosis and paranoia set in, so I figured I’d e-mail them today. I was panicking that they would hate me for my pestering persistence.

I tried to make the e-mail sound polite and professional as possible, but I accidentally left the subject as “FWD: YOUR BARNES AND NOBLE ORDER HAS SHIPPED.”

Shit. They might think it’s spam. But I’m not spam! Just a girl who wants a poster. Why do you think I bought the complete Rocko’s Modern Life DVD set? Free poster. Why do you think I sign up for road races and never run them. Free t-shirts. Any event I ever went to in college regardless of what it was in support of? Free. Friggen. T-SHIRTS.

LIVE FREE OR DIE NAKED/POSTERLESS.

I think there are still some posters left or if you just like reading printed words on dead trees, go here: http://www.wtfpod.com/dispatches/entries/pre_order_attempting_normal

I don’t know how to get links to say a phrase and not just say the whole link, so ignore my quackery*.

In other news, I left my granola bar on my desk and a sunbeam warmed it up so the yogurt part of it tasted like warm frosting. Normally, warm yogurt would make me want to throw up out my ass, but this was really good.

I also recently found out my favorite place to get coffee doesn’t sell strawberry or vanilla frosted doughnuts. I also recently found out I am not confident when writing the word “doughnut.” I figured I can at least get the strawberry ones around Valentine’s Day or maybe ever Breast Cancer Awareness month. I can’t really think of a holiday that would warrant vanilla frosted doughnuts.

Okay, my little circus freaks, until next time!

*I’m not entirely sure that’s a word, but WordPress isn’t telling me I’m wrong so I MUST be right.

Dude, Where’d My Face Go?

Hey my Cabbage Patch Squids,

I think I may be having an identity crisis, but mainly just at my gym.

Every time I walk in and buzz my little card at the scanner, I get greeted with “HEY! You haven’t been around lately!” by one of the staff members. What? No! I was here yesterday and you said the same thing to me then. Maybe they’ve mistaken me for someone else? I smile and lie “I know, right?!” and I head over to the boxing area.

“Hello! How are you?!” asks a lovely woman I’ve maybe smiled at once or twice when she looked in my general direction.  Is she talking to me? She’s staring at me. Maybe she remembers me from the last thirty sessions we’ve had together? I haven’t answered her yet. Oh God. “Um, hi! Good! How are you?” Maybe she does remember me and she’s being friendly. There are a lot of new people here today.

“How’s your shop doing?” she asks as she wraps up her hands. I don’t have a shop, do I? Did I tell her I had a shop? Have we spoken before? Is there a woman who looks exactly like me and coincidentally comes into boxing every time I’m not there and talks about her shop? I wonder what kind of shop it is. Does she sell doughnuts or scarves? Thankfully the instructor started shouting drills at us so I couldn’t answer, and I made sure to ignore and avoid all eye contact for the next 45 minutes of class.

As the instructor was calling out drills, I saw him do a double take of me out of my peripheral. Oh Lord, unwanted conversation in three…two…

“Hey! How are you doing? You’ve been out lately.” Guh. No I haven’t. Who are you people? Who am I? What’s happening here?

I just kept smiling and answering his questions of my whereabouts. “Oh, you know,  just busy.” Nope, I’ve been here the past three days. Right there, on that treadmill and over there on the yoga mat and right here, right now for my example tomorrow when you don’t realize who I am. This does bring attention to all the times he called all the other girls names out in class and then stared at me and said “and you.”

It began to dawn on me that maybe I’m just another face in the crowd, easily mistaken for anybody and everybody else. “I just saw your sister!” I don’t have a sister. “How was the swim meet?” I don’t own a bathing suit. I’m beginning to see myself as a body with one of those fencing masks on. Nothing distinguishable, nothing unique.

But I am, I am! I yell in my mirror as I outline my lips with black lip liner and toss glitter into the air. I’m different! Look, a big nose! And look, a lazy eye! How are these things not jumping out at you? I mean, my nose is practically touching your face, sniffing all those little invisible hairs.

I think my quarter-life crisis has been rearing it’s over/underqualified, resume-hating, attention-wanting head.

Belching Bride

Yay! Usually I write out and proofread my essays first, but hey- you know, you’re cute. I’m going to work Doug Funnie stream of consciousness for you. But only you. Shh no more words. My turn. Don’t forget to lock the door and turn the AC on high.

The other day I was necking with a honey BBQ sandwich at a fine local eating establishment, when my mother and I got to talking about weddings. Now considering that most men are repulsed by my, *belch* ‘scuse me, by my forwardness, “wedding” is a delusion from WEtv that David Tutera is going to come to my house, pay for everything, hand sew my dress, and be my BFF. However, the topic came up and it was revealed to me that my mother has been hiding money away for my wedding. I use “my wedding” loosely, as the thought of it makes me “lawlz.” Although I am terribly humbled that her sweet/naive mind envisioned me as a blushing bride, I had to tell her to please take that money and either invest in it in the scented candle business, or to buy off the waiter who just told me he liked my “rockabilly” look. Either way, that wedding fund should be making interest for the next 5-10 years, figuring I get the corrective surgery and physical therapy I need for my hunchback that has been forming since the 2nd grade, after I caught my teacher stealing SunChips out of my RugRats lunchbox. I digress. The moral of the story kids, is that your mom, dad, guardian, caretaker, or whomever, does very nice things for you, even if you don’t know. It still doesn’t change the fact you’re never getting married and that you’re a disgusting slob with Donette powder caked under her fingernails, but at least it’s nice gesture.