I’m an Asshole

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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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My Best Physical Feature, BY: Me *kisses mirror*

Day 10 of the Blog Challenge!

I have to pick my BEST physical feature.

How do you expect me to do that when all my physical features are THE BEST.

You know, because my self esteem to shooting across the sky like rockets filled with Mentos, Diet Coke, and Pop Rocks.

I don’t think anyone can name their best physical feature with out it looking like a “humblebrag.”

BUT if you’re going to tie my hands behind me back (which I know you are totes doing that virtually), I guess I would have to say….

MY EYELASHES. *bat bat bat*

I’m sure wherever you are sitting you felt like your computer turned on a Beyonce-force fan.

I bet your eyebrows have nearly blown clean off your face.

That whole butterfly effect mumbo jumbo?

I’m totally effecting your world and how you live in it just by how frequently I blink these eyeball hair fans.

 

So there you have it.

Until next time, my little dinette sets.

Blog Challenge DAY 8.

The shit I carry around.

The question for Day 8 is “What’s in your handbag?”

WELL, NOSEY. HERE.

Chapstick, chapstick, chapstick, chapstick.

Money!

Receipts for the last 5 days worth of iced coffee.

Mascara so I can bat my eyelashes at millions of men, all day long.

Crumbs. Probably from a granola bar I ate 6 weeks ago.

So yeah, that’s about it. I don’t like carrying stuff because I’m always worried I’m going to leave it somewhere and they are going to call my name over the intercom of the store. Like the did last week at a Marshall’s.

Horrendous.

Until next time, my love ducks!

Blog Challenge: Day 1

Yay Inner-nets!

Finally found a spot where I can get internet to talk to you precious babies.

I wanted to do that blog challenge. So DAY ONE.

A recent photo and introduction.

I don’t take pictures of myself often, but I did take this one to show off my super great new shoes. I’ll attach a picture of them too.

I’ll give you the basics for an introduction. I’m a lady. I’m 23. I like to wear a lot of oddball things (like the shoes). One of my reasons for living is to watch the X-Files. I have a passion for stand-up comedy and would watch or do it every single day for forever.

I don’t want to give TOO much away in case I need to say something fun and interesting for a future blog challenge post.

Okay, time for Mulder and dinner.

Until next time my sweet pickle dicks!

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My Toe is Hanging Off

Hey squeaples.

A couple months ago I got involved with a roller derby team.

Not romantically, but they were having some clinics for skaters to learn new tricks and skills.

I went, I fell on my ass, and I had an awesome time.

After a few hours on your skates, your feet can get pretty numb. If they are too tight or if they haven’t been broken in much they can feel like vice grips.

My feet felt pretty crappy a few days after, but I didn’t think anything about it.

After a couple weeks I couldn’t curl the toes on my left foot. Walking was unbearable. I even made a couple jokes about breaking my foot on Twitter.

It got to the point where I couldn’t wear my new high heels, which have Ring Pops all over it (the design, unfortunately, they aren’t covered in real Ring Pops.)

That being a major crisis, I ended up going to my chiropractor.

He had me lay on his Frankenstein table and tilted it all the way back so I was laying completely horizontal (like most tables).

After an “ahh” and a “mhm” and  some”ooh’s” he came forth with the news. “Your toe is dangling out of it’s socket.”

Hm. As I suspected but did nothing about.

He began strapping my leg to the table.

“Uh, What’s that? I don’t like what you’re doing, why are you doing that, WHAT ARE YO–”

But before he even told me, he was hovering over my foot and with all his weight behind it, snapped my toe back into it’s socket.

He unraveled the tape and pressed the button that made the table move to an upright, vertical position, in true Frankenstein form.  I had to jump off before it kept going 180 degrees and smash me into the carpet.

He wrapped my foot up in the same tape he had strapped my leg down. “Keep this one for a couple days, maybe a 4 to 5 days, maybe a couple weeks. And don’t get it wet.”

I took it off after 4 days. I got it wet.

But my toe is all better! It hurts a little, but now I can stomp around in my Ring Pop shoes.

Until next time, gurgle puss!

Blue Like Me

I dyed my hair.

I used henna with indigo so it would turn my crispy, blonde, fried highlights back to black.

Needless to say, I’m a renegade and didn’t use any gloves. Buuut I Eiffel 65’d my hands

(I’m blue da ba dee da ba DYE).

Get it? ….GET IT?

*crickets*

I might as well just smashed up some smurfs, blueberries, and Blue Man Group balls, with my bare hands.

I didn’t think it would be a big deal, but search results for removal yielded phrases like “a couple of months” and “good luck, asshole.”

Oh well. It’s faded enough that it almost looks like I have a horrible disease sucking the life out of my hands yet leaving me with a fabulous helmet of shiny hair.

Anyways, I hope everyone is having a darling Tuesday.

Until next time, my Chicken Mc-Fug-Lets.

Crystals and Toe-Sucking

Hey guys, I might be a witch.

Lately I’ve been reading up on crystals and gemstones and their benefits. I have a piece of citrine, an emerald, and a little lapis lazuli (any Gilgamesh fans?).

I carry them around as lucky charms but I also read that keeping certain ones under your pillow will help you have happier dreams when you sleep.

WELL my friends, I did not put my crystals under my pillow last night and I had some pretty fucked up dreams. One of them included sucking the toes (which nails were painted blackish-purple) of a kid I used to like a few years back. There was lots of drag queens, Goldfish crackers, rainbow escalators, and a nighttime pool party.

It sounds traumatizing but I woke up laughing so I’m hoping I haven’t completely become unhinged. Although, I’m not sure if laughing means I am crazy or just understanding of the absurdity.

Judging by the titles of my last few posts, I guess it might be the former.

In other news, I am seeing a psychic this weekend!

It was either that or a therapist and the psychic was cheaper.

And they are usually better at telling people what to do.

Me make a decision for myself? Puh! Unless it’s food or clothing, I’ll take all the advice I can get.

Or this blog. This thing is stream of consciousness. I pick a topic and wipe my ass with it and see how you darling pooptarts like it.

I’m not going to put the crystals under my pillow again tonight and see if anything else kooky happens.

Until next time my Scruvy Fully Bloateds!

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.