A Terrible Motivational Speech

I did a parody of Ira Glass’ famous and lovely quote on storytelling and writing. It hardly makes sense. Enjoy.

“Nobody tells this to n00bs. I wish someone told me. All of us who eat food, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you eat stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you to buy that $400 Kitchen Aid mixer with all the attachments, is still killer. And your taste is why your food disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they take Tums, have violent bouts of diarrhea and quit. Most people I know who eat and make interesting food went through years of this. We know our food doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have (cinnamon). We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is just eat a lot of food. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will eat one sundae. It is only by going through a buttload of sundaes that you will close that gap, and your homemade froyo will be as good as Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta loosen your belt and fight your way through it.” -Roth Plastic

Do You Want to Build a Snowm–I Mean Write a Book?

I’ve seen Frozen three times, cut me some slack. 

Also, my laptop is about to die so this whole post may be a jumbled crapball. I COULD go downstairs and get my charger but shut up already, jeez what’re you my mom? Oh? You ARE? MOM STOP READING MY BLOG, GOD. 

But I digress.

I’ve been meaning to smash a bunch of my essays together and wrap some hard plastic around them and call it a book, but I’m going to take the time and energy and make it my best. The overall theme of it will be the tragedies in my life, infused with my own sick sense of humor, of course. I have some (true) stories, if you could voice your opinion on what you might like to read?

Some toupées: 

I mean topics:

1) Worcester, MA- Part One-In which my friend and I get chased by a homeless man. SPOILER: He jerks off on the car.

2) Worcester, MA- Part Two-In which we did not learn our lesson the first time, so we get caught in the crossfire of two rival street gangs. (Yes, guns. Bang, bang, shoot-em-up.)

3) The Dentist-Part OneIn which the dentist drops his drill and I attempt to swallow it.

4) The Dentist-Part Two– In which the dentist removes my wisdom teeth and also part of my nerve, leaving my face numb (forever).

5) The Accusal- In which my fellow kindergarteners accuse me of stealing the markers and drawing on the walls. But did I really do it?

6) Vacation From Hell: Mexico-In which we have no money, no clothes, and are driving with an insane man that only speaks in Beach Boys lyrics. 

7) College Graduation– In which I am in my driveway at 8:30am. Graduation starts at 9am. I am an hour and a half away. Do I make it in time? Some factors: My mother having diarrhea, makes me stop for anti-diarrheal medicine, I knock down the display. Does she shit in my car?

Those are just some of the stories I’ve wanted to tell for a while. Let me know!

K love you or whatever, my twinkling stars. 🙂 

 

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.

Not Dead Still

Hey crapples!

Today’s kewschun is brought to you by the letter B for Book. 

“What’s your favorite childhood book?”

This one’s a doozy. I have a lot of favorite children’s books, but my favorite childhood book is different. 

Well, books. Because childhood was kind of long, amiright?

My first pick, is from the earlier childhood years:

Lilly’s Purple Plastic Purse, By Kevin Henkes.

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There are other books that take place in Lilly’s world, but I’ve only read this one. I love the illustrations, and now thinking about it, I guess I connected with Lilly because she was a freak like me. A nice, shy, freak who has a great fashion sense and secretly craves the spotlight until she gets any attention.

It’s adorable, read it now, go bye.

***

The second book comes in the later years of childhood. This was the first book I read several times for enjoyment. Chunky, twelve-year-old me was really into TV and Hotpockets, so that was a milestone.

Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great, by Judy Blume.

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I had always loved the Superfudge books, and I don’t know why I picked up this one up because I always thought Sheila was a friggen bitch. I ended up reading it and realized I was wrong. WAY TO JUDGE A CHARACTER WITHOUT REALLY KNOWING HER, LOLO, YA BIG JERK. Lesson learned. 

***

There you have it. Next the next post’s question we will be exploring my 5 favorite blogs. I don’t have 5 favorite blogs so things might get a little hairy.

But until next time, my little salt lickers!

All Hope is Not Lost

My  poster I’ve been bitching about came today. YAY!

After a few obnoxious e-mails to the people at Random House (I’m sorry, I’m just paranoid) I got the poster for Maron’s new book, “Attempting Normal.”

Except it wasn’t signed. Fuck.

But I’m trying this new thing called “tipping the scales.” I have to try to have 51% good thoughts during the day, instead of you know, hating everything at every moment for the rest of all eternity.

It just so happens Marc (we’re on a first name basis because we are going to be best friends) will be doing signings in Boston for his book. Perfect opportunity for me to run up and kneel in front of his signing table like a child. (Remember that time I did that to David Sedaris?)

Well if you don’t it’s here—>https://lolokirby.com/2013/04/09/meeting-david-sedaris-but-really-this-time-part-three/

Maybe I can will into existence another precious moment between professor and fuckface.

Speaking of tipping the scales, I had 8 bowls of cereal today. Living life like that makes it really easy to be happy more than half the time.

Also, in the next episode I’m going to talk about how I think Greg Giraldo is haunting me.

Until then, my little clarinet players!

Meeting David Sedaris

By “meeting” I mean, “I hope to be meeting David Sedaris this Sunday when I go to his lecture in Boston.” The sweat beads are already pouring down my bleached mustache. I’ve never been to an author’s event before, so I’ve been doing some prep work and researching on how David (I decided we need to be on a first name basis if we are going to be best friends) interacts with his readers. By all appearances he seems to a nice guy, a gentleman, someone who is concerned with the well-being of his readers. He really cares. OR he is a master illusionist, like the old man in The Prestige who carried the giant fishbowl between his legs. He commits to the act. Even if that’s true, I still find myself in an utter panic trying to figure out what I’m going to wear. Would he like my gold sparkle oxfords or the zebra ones? He could find them hellacious, daring, or even delightfully tacky. Either way, it could make or break our trip to Cabo together, where we share laughs in slow motion over breezy exotic music you hear in those resort commercials.

Regardless of what I’m wearing, even if it’s evening ball gown, no amount of unique style and flare could set me apart from the crowd of adoring fans better than my nervous stammer. I would call it a stutter, but that implies that you might have some control over your life. A stammer is for hillbillies in the back woods, licking their lips as you lotion your elbows, repeating words in incoherent sentences. It’s something I can’t really help, but I’m hoping it won’t get me escorted from the premises. 

I’ll let you guys know how it goes, but I think as long as you have the news on, you’ll be able to get the gist.