A New Girth

It’s Sunday and I’m lounging on top of my bed hoping not to spill the crumbs from the banana bread I just ate all over my sheets. I don’t know if I was supposed to use a comma or two in that last sentence by we’ve got bigger fish to fry now.

I put up three posters in my bed room today, all with mediocre-hold-stickiness so I’ll let you know if I get the shit scared out of me in the middle of the night when one or all of them fall onto me while I sleep.

Today I was trying to find some podcasts to listen to while I cleaned my room. I ended up coming across Oprah’s Super Soul Conversations. I don’t get the OWN channel but I do watch when she live streams the Super Soul Sunday conversations. I found that she recently talked to  Eckhart Tolle, who wrote one of my favorite books (A New Earth), and was a constant guest on Oprah’s Lifeclass. Lifeclass was a show that then had a companion livestream with Oprah and guests. It focused on being “awakened” and living a life which less pain and stress. It was the first time I consciously remember changing my life by way of loosening the grip of ego (“small you”, not the personality trait), starting to meditate, and hearing someone articulate being “awake” which was something I had been feeling but was too young to really figure out on my own.

Today on the podcast, Oprah said she hadn’t interviewed Eckhart since those livestreams which was TEN YEARS AGO. I still vividly remember sections from that show and reading A New Earth and having it all click. They talked about evolution of consciousness, especially collection given the state of the USA, and how it’s not linear. You go forward, there is some regression, you move forward again, and right now we are back in a regression. It’s difficult but the regression is important because it does end up springing you forward.

Oprah’s podcast ended up leading me to search around for other podcasts and I ended up listening to Jack Kornfield’s show for three hours. Now I’m deciding which of the four books I’m reading simultaneously do I want to bring to bed tonight. It should probably be the one I rented from the library as opposed to the other three that have been sitting in my room for years on end. I wiped down the library book with a wet one the other day and Jesus Christ was that frightening. I won’t go into detail but just wipe down the books before you use them and also maybe don’t put them on the pillow that you sleep on.

My joke writing still feels sluggish so I wanted to try Reductress again soon. I used to pitch frequently but sometimes when you hit a goal, that’s all there is to it and you can move on. I moved on for a while but I think I would like to see my name up there again. I use it in my standup credits and I personally would like those to remain relevant.

Okay, I’m off to get another slice of banana bread because I need nourishment in one form or another and what better way than to take a fruit and make it unhealthy. Hehe.

Bye 143xo!

And Then She Went to the Hospital!

I bet you’ve been checking your inboxes frantically wondering where I’ve been and why I haven’t been bitching about my Oprah Magazine not arriving yet (but it did, so yay!)

My eyeballs have had a weird, rashy, burnt, allergic-ky thing going on for the last 3 months, only to be made worse when I smeared Gold Bond Ointment all over them and burned the rest of my burnt skin off. It all came to an unsightly head when last Saturday my face swelled shut and I had to go to the ER. THANKFULLY, they prescribed me STEROIDS! Here is a reenactment of what happened:


That cart was full of all the steroids for me! Yum, yum, yum, crunch, crunch, crunch!

Anyways, today was the last day of the steroids, so we’ll see if me throwing away all my down comforters and furry blankets really solved the problem or if I’m just one of those people who one day woke up and decided they would be allergic to their own hair.

Pray for me, my children.

During the  experience, I found out that Zantac helps against allergic reactions! This is great because my diet is pure acid so I’m really killing two birds with 10lbs of western medicine. I think that’s how the phrase goes.

Well, I’ve taken enough Benadryl to skleeeerzzzppbuarewoberp. TIME FOR BED!

More less-medicated updates to come!

Love you, xoxox, take out the trash already you animal.

Am I a Forty-Four Year Old Woman?

I’ve compiled a list of things I do/have done/think that have lead me to believe that I am really a middle-aged woman. 

1) Subscribing to a wellness magazine.

2) That wellness magazine is Oprah’s “O” Magazine.

3) Enjoying a nice Julia Roberts film on a week night.

4) Started calling TV shows “programs”. Hey, have you ever seen that Everybody Love Raymond program?

5) Loud noises, please stop. Turn down the TV. Turn the radio off. SHUT UP.

6) I’ve spent  half my paycheck on various scents and sizes at The Yankee Candle Factory.

7) I keep a pack of Sucrets stashed in my car. And my purse. And my bra.

8) Gloria Estefan, amiright?

9) “I just think dressing conservatively is more tasteful.” -A statement I’ve made.

10) 8 o’clock bedtime! Let me just finish my glass of Turning Leaf!

Amen xoxox.

O’ Oprah, Where Art Thou?

A couple months ago I signed up for the Oprah “O” Magazine subscription. I haven’t received a magazine yet, so here are some reasons I have pondered as to why Oprah hasn’t stuffed herself into my mailbox.


1) They are publishing the magazine in hardcover JUST FOR ME! Oh Oprah, you shouldn’t have. ❤

2) The person processing my account fell asleep on top of my paperwork and drooled all over it. My name and address become illegible and they had no way of contacting me because my information was all wet and smudgy.

3) I never actually subscribed to it because I forgot but somehow convinced myself that I did and I guess I’ll just be angry and sulky for all of eternity. HIGHLY UNLIKELY THOUGH.

4) A rat got stuck in the conveyor belt and jammed up all the printers but the big wigs are Harpo are trying to do damage control and cover the incident up. But will they succeed?

5) Paper has been outlawed! Word hasn’t spread to Massachusetts yet and we’re still over here disregarding rations and flagrantly waving our contraband about. WHO WILL STOP US? WHO WILL PUT AN END TO IT ALL?

Do you have any theories on my missing magazines?

Anyways, that’s all I’ve come up with. I went ahead and bought the issue with Oprah and the big lion on the front because I was not going to let that opportunity pass me by.

Nightnight byebye don’t let the bed bugs steal your girlfriend xoxo

You’re a Big Yatch

Oh, my dear little bloggerinos. How are you?

I just got back from NEW YORK CITY the other day and I’ve been laying around ever since. I walked 10 miles in one day in my big combat boots so now I don’t have feet anymore. Buuuuut I DO have a rash on my eyelids! I bought Nana Creme (Gold Bond) and have been smearing it across my eyes. I somehow did not expect it to burn. I imagine it’s what putting peppermint toothpaste on your eyelids would feel like. Très great.

In other news, I swapped cars with my mom so now I’m driving the yacht, or as the layperson would call it, “a Subaru.” I also just spelt yacht “y-a-t-c-h.” YATCH. Sounds like an insult or some kind of vaginal infection.

It’s fun blowing out the speakers on a car that isn’t yours. I listened to Miley Cyrus’ “Bottom of the Ocean” about 50 times. After the 4th or 5th time I forgot I was singing it and would zone in and out and start wondering if I was singing that whole time. After the 15th or 20th time I started messing up the words because it all starts to blend together. WHICH PART OF THE SONG AM I AT? WHAT SONG IS THIS? SHOULD I BE OPERATING A MOTOR VEHICLE?

Anyways, I bought another Oprah magazine ANNND I forgot I get Oprah Radio so I’m ready to let the healing begin. I’m also ready to let the sweepstakes entries pile up. LET ME WIN, BABY JEESUHZ! Or just let me win baby Jesus! I’ll brush his hair and feed him hay. Cuz that’s what babies like.


It Didn’t Work Out

I tried and I failed.

Well, maybe I didn’t fail. More of a “hasty withdrawal” is really what happened.

I left a job two months ago because I was moving too far away to keep it and not be paying $300 in gas every week. I had outgrown it anyways, but it was the first time I took a chance and left a job before securing a new one.

I dug into my savings account and moped around on Craigslist’s job boards until I got a call for an interview. I interviewed, I got the job, I started. The first few days were overwhelming, but good. I was tired and happy. But then I started to become a little more tired and a little less happy. And then I was just tired. The company, the people-all great. It was sitting in my cubicle for eight hours that I realized I didn’t care about what I was doing. I saw myself from outside my body, only I was Peter Gibbons and I was a few sleeps away from gutting a fish on my desk.

Call it quarter-life crisis. Call it just seeing more clearly. Either way, I had to get out.

The day I gave my notice, I sat in the parking lot and tried to cry. I felt sick and couldn’t wash away the lump in my throat with any amount of bottled iced tea (and I thought Sweet Leaf iced tea with the nana on the front could cure EVERYTHING).

I took the legal pad I was given on the first day and wrote the most heartfelt resignation letter I have ever written. I’ve broken up with my gym before via letter (per their requirements) and it was much less a Dear John letter than it was an 8th grader dumping her best friend over the fact that the elliptical was always broken (what?).

I folded it and put in my bag and walked into the building. While waiting for the elevator, I found a lucky penny. I went up my office level, got off the elevator, and went straight to the bathroom. I sat on the toilet and looked at my phone for a couple minutes. I should have never come, I should have just not shown up.

The pressure was getting to me. I could tell that if someone was good at reading a stranger’s emotions, they’d look at me, ask if I was okay, and I would immediately crumble.

Thankfully, I went to my manager’s office, closed the door, and sputtered Office Space quotes, fidgeted, and became glassy-eyed. He responded like the nice camp counselor you liked would. I felt relieved, went on with my day. I went to lunch and checked my phone. Maya Angelou had died and my news feed was cluttered with her quotes. My first reaction was to wonder about how Oprah was taking all this. Then I started to think about if this was some sort of weird synchronicity, that I was taking a chance and pretending to be fearless.  I checked my email after reading all the Maya Angelou quotes. Two months ago I had emailed someone about a job. They hadn’t responded, so I let well enough alone and moved on. I now had a sweet email sitting in my inbox offering any help with my job search. Another weird synchronicity. Was everything falling into place or falling apart?

Now, I’m sitting 40 tabs deep into my job search with a calm that didn’t exist the first time around. Still drinking a bottled ice tea, staring at a Reiki charged candle I’ve been saving for two years. You know, for a special occasion. It’s called “Laughter” and comes with a mantra to recite when you light it (as mentioned in the previous post). I lit it today but when I have to think “happy thoughts” I immediately start thinking about the world exploding and massive blood shed. I blew the candle out. Then I worried that if snuffing the candle meant that all those things would come true. I forced some happy thoughts and lit the candle again without the mantra. I think it should be okay.

Anyways, back to the job search, but this time I hope the job comes searching for me. In the mean time, I’ll be visiting Colorado next week with my family, so I hope I have some sort of weird vision-quest type experience so I can figure my shit out.

ciao nanas ❤

Post of Me Talking about Oreos, Stuff Gets Sad at One Point, but Then it Gets Better

I’m going to power through these last few blog challenge questions, as I’ve neglected them the past few weeks due to my busy schedule.*

(*Eating Oreos).

SEW. A difficult time in my life?

Buzzkill Belinda here will tell you ALL about it.

One of the more difficult times in my life was the 6 month span when both my grandmother and my dad died.


Sure, it’s sad, but the whole experience has propelled me forward into a new person. Kind of like Freaky Friday but with myself. (Sounds hot, right?)

I was living life like a robot would in robot world doing robot things with my robot  brain and my robot  heart.

I never really thought for myself, or did anything that interested me. I didn’t speak up for myself and I didn’t pursue my own interests.

Even when it came time to apply to college, I thought surely I would die before having to make any major life choices! Because what do I matter?

Cue me sobbing in my bathrobe the day before Common Apps were due. I hadn’t looked at colleges. I had no idea what I was even interested in for a major.

I ended up at a college that was close to home so I could flee away from it on weekends and sob in my mother’s arms. I kept saying I would transfer once I found a college that would nurture the path I wanted to take.

That path didn’t come into focus until about 2 after I graduated. It’s still blurry, but at least my iPhone compass seems to be pointing me in a direction that isn’t straight to Hell.

I moved home and stayed there with my cats and my parents and my bed and my XBox and my bathroom with a doorlock.

The following year Nana and Dad died. After little sleep, living in hospitals, and eating all the food out of the hospice  kitchen, everything stops and you have to go back to reality. You’re left with the feeling of “now what?”

Me and Oprah did some soul searching,  and like a phoenix I flew around and brushed my feathers, threw glitter in people’s eyes, and made some rock music. Well, not really. I just decided I needed to pursue comedy because it’s been the only thing I’ve constantly gone back to whether for pleasure or for healing pain.

Without all that crud going on, I wouldn’t be the spaceship shoe-wearing, X-File loving, Nutcracker puppeteer you’ve come to sort-of like today! If you noticed my tattoo in the pictures I’ve posted in the past, I have a yellow rose on my wrist-my Nana’s favorite flower :B

Anyhoodles, until next time my little squeegee boards!

“Try Again”

I would’ve rejected this list too.


More Confessions from Lance Armstrong

His name isn’t Lance.

He uses invisible training wheels.

He’s never been to France.

He smells.

He has crappy bracelets.

He’s never ridden with Look no-hands, Ma!!!

He has a big dumb face.

He was never a member of  *NSYNC.

Louis Armstrong isn’t his grandfather.

He doesn’t believe in handle bar streamers and motorcycle noises.

He doesn’t let his kids ride Huffy’s.

He’s never ridden a bike.

Matthew McConaughey  ate his removed testicle to retain infinite youth and beauty.