Nerdtastic aspiring comedienne who can be found eating in bed and playing her PS3 named Mace Windu most of the time.
If you speak to most fans of the Horror genre, they will tell you that they love being scared. If a movie makes them squirm, scream or jump (or all three), they eat it up with a big shit eating grin on their mugs. I personally enjoy it when a movie makes me jump. I’m such a weirdo that it usually makes me burst into laughter that a movie freaked me out to that point. But other times, I’m wide-eyed and covering one eye with my zebra print Snuggie with a trembling hand. Those other times have made me pretty much terrified of closets and have also got me calling day time “My Safe Time”. I am one of those people others often call “pussies” (am I saying that right?) about scary movies. A fact about me that I don’t like to admit but will for the sake of this post (YOU’RE WELCOME) is that the 6th night after I saw The Ring, I could not sleep. I genuinely thought that the bitch from that movie, who was so ugly she covered her face with her long hair, was going to come out of that grainy well that I didn’t know existed inside of my TV and murder me. I was sadly in middle school when this all had gone down. And I didn’t even receive a “SEVEN DAYS” phone call like my cousin did hilariously from my aunt after seeing it (only hilarious because it happened to him). I have since gotten better about scary things…mostly.
I am still completely on edge when I go into a Halloween store. You just never fucking know what things in those stores are going to move and make loud ass noises at you when you least expect it. Then you are really grateful that you went to the bathroom prior to leaving your job to go on your lunch break.
Once in Target this decorative witch made thunder clapping noises and started cackling out of the blue. I screamed loud and jumped two feet off the ground. And thinking about how Michael Myers would get completely overlooked in the background by the r-tards in the Halloween** movies also freaks me out. Flashing back to scenes from The Strangers gives me a full body shiver for the same reasons.
**If you’ve never seen the original Halloween 2, watch that shit right now. It takes place in a hospital and if you, like me, weren’t alive when it was made, you’ll learn a lot about that time period. You could not call this movie timeless. It is very much imprinted with that decade. Back then you could smoke in hospitals AND hospitals had a Jacuzzi. Just two bits of knowledge I took with me. Also drug testing was clearly not required to get jobs back then either. That should be obvious but it apparently wasn’t to me.
Sometimes paranoia can be a good thing and less annoying then being stupid amounts of jumpy at night after you watched Insidious. A few years ago, in my less my paranoid days, I managed to get a speeding ticket. In recent years, no dice *knocks on wood*. I’ve got what I like to call COP EYES when I drive. I’m barely affording gas these days so I for sure can’t afford any tickets. So I’m constantly on the lookout for the 5-0 trying to pull a fast one on me. Or catch me pulling a fast one, I guess.
Also watching enough of the Lifetime Movie Channel will really get you amped up to kick potential home intruders’ asses. You can substitute home intruders with rapists. It would be like if Lifetime released a series of Mad Libs. They would either be about rape prevention tips, simple self defense maneuvers, really sad but true stories or gay fashion designers. So basically many women, myself included, would practically be creaming our panties over them.
After locking my keys in my car about 7 times (and paying for a locksmith twice) I am overly paranoid that I don’t have my car keys even though I check my purse like three times before even getting out of my car for them. Just another great example of the good kind of paranoia.
**To clarify, I don’t mean the band even if I do think that they are great. Cue the mash-up of “Daria”, “Frank Sinatra” and “Opera Singer” that’s forever stuck in my head.
I may have just started trying to eat healthier and exercise again…for like the billionth time, okay? I know how many times I’ve done this, reader! You don’t have to remind me. Anyway, I have a love for cake that little else in life mirrors.
Thus why I have just started trying to eat healthier and exercise again for like the billionth time.
Honestly cake can make or break a party. It could be the most boring party ever but it will be memorable if they have a delicious cake. Cravings for another slice of that bad boy will strike you when you least expect them. Mainly in memories about how bad that party was because you’ll say, “Damn that party blew but oh that chocolate mousse cake was…something else. *drools on self*”
And I know I’m not the only one who rushes down the baking needs aisles of grocery stores averting my eyes from the tempting pictures on those cake mix boxes. Cake is a whore that you pay for in more than one way…unless it was a free slice you lucked into, then just the one time payment. First you pay with your money then you pay because you become cake’s bitch and it makes you fat so you stay its bitch because your self esteem is too low to know how to quit it.
I sincerely wish I knew how to quit you cake. But if your delicious sluttiness has to stay in existence and end up in my mouth more than I’m admitting to you effers then we have to lay down at least this ground rule:
Don’t tell someone that there is free cake when you know damn well that there’s no free cake anywhere.
It should really be the Golden Rule of cake but whatevs.
“Why that is such a specific rule with what seems like some bad feelings behind it! Wonder what happened to her to make her randomly (or maybe not randomly if she has a story to go with it, I guess) decree such a rule….” is probably what you’re saying to yourself.
Well don’t worry your pretty little head about it. But make said pretty little head comfy because you nailed a lot of things with that statement you just made to yourself. I do have a story behind this Golden Rule of Cake that was NOT randomly decreed.
A coworker of mine from the past was tricking everyone we worked with really well this one April Fools Day. It seemed like each time I left my department to deliver mail or supplies to another department then came back someone was telling me a hilarious story about how good he had tricked them. This tricky coworker named Cedric was actually my closest buddy in the department. We would talk about movies and write how much we thought the other one stunk on the dry erase board with drawn examples daily. I was under the naive belief that there was no way he would trick me…but sadly Ced knew me well and knew just how to get me….
He starts telling me that there is free cake near the Cafeteria. After not letting myself believe him for awhile I give in because he is being so persistent There is no way he’d be lying to me and being so persistent about it, right? That was my thought at least. So I say something along the lines of, “Level with me here, Ced. You’ve been fooling everyone all day long. How am I supposed to believe you’re telling the truth about this free cake?”
We discussed it like it was a “mythical” buried treasure…because cake is a treasure. Especially if it’s free! Also I don’t eff around about free cake.
He goes into this what-could-not-possibly-be-improvised rant about how they are even giving out pens and smiley face stickers to all the sick kids (and the healthy ones too). It all sounds so believable and typical hospital kind of stuff that I lean towards thinking maybe he isn’t lying. Him saying he’d go down there with me to get a piece of cake was what you could say was the icing on the me believing him cake.
We get near the cafeteria and I realize that the room he said all this was taking place in was pitch black. So I voice my observation and my increasing concern/sadness that there might not be any free cake after all by saying/yelling, “That room is completely dark. WHERE’S THE FREE CAKE?!” To which he said, “There isn’t any. April Fools!” then rides off with his supply cart leaving me there on my knees with my face in my hands in the middle of that hospital hallway. Someone walked past me and asked me what’s wrong and I told them how someone tricked me into thinking there was free cake. They said, “Damn I just found out my 5 year old has cancer and being tricked into thinking there was free cake is even sadder than that! What kind of monster would do such a thing?! You know what, I’m going to cry for you later.”
So see? Even THEY agreed with me about the horribleness of being tricked into thinking there was free cake when there actually wasn’t. So that is why I say though cake is a delicious slutty whore it makes people happy. And tricking someone into believing they get a taste of that sugary scrumptious slut of a dessert is just plain torture. This happened to me literally YEARS ago and I still can’t get it out of my mind. The hilarious things he tricked my other coworkers with are more blurry in my memory….but what he did to me is forever ingrained into my mind. Stop the torture. Stop the madness. Let’s make this Golden Rule of Cake a reality that doesn’t just live inside of my mind. It should thrive as an ideal the whole world can get behind and enjoy.
Putting those free cake promising bastards to rest, well, that’s something I wouldn’t mind being known for.
I’ve decided that I don’t write enough material that is true to my life.
My newer jokes reflect my life more than the old do.
It just isn’t to the point that I want it to be.
I know a lot of people struggle with this, as I am right now. We all eventually want to get to the point where we can say stories out of our real lives on stage as jokes and make people laugh. That’s, in my opinion, the best way to set yourself apart from everyone else in the Comedy universe…to draw from your own life with your own perspective.
No one else lives your life or sees things the way you do.
Some people may never experience the same things as you do. I have some great stories of funny things that have happened to me in life that I’d love to tell on stage…but right now they just work better conversationally. I know they need to be condensed majorly and that has a lot to do with it. Who is to say what you cut out of something that happened to you in real life? Then again, this all part of that struggle I mentioned earlier.
To get to the whole point of the name of this post…I have decided that twice a week (or more if I feel like it) I will get on here and post a blog entry about a designated topic. My guidelines are that the subject has to be easy to relate to for others and something I can draw experiences out of my own life to talk about.
I’m hoping that this helps me. If not, I’m sure I’ll get a good joke or two out of it all. I’ve been having mega problems writing jokes lately so either way, this will be a win-win for me. In the subject line is where I will write the topic name and then the whole post thereafter will be all about that topic. I don’t have the time to do this right this second (seeing as I have to take my lunch in less than 5 minutes) but wanted to explain this for future posts. The first one will
probably happen later on today.
Took a trip to the Zoo and ended up standing in front of the Emu Exhibit for awhile. I was daydreaming of all the fun we could have together, my pet Emu Jean Claude and I.
“If only I had an emu…” I say with a heavy heart and a mind filled with unachievable emu adventures.
“Did you say something about emus?” Asks random zoo lackie.
“Ugh can’t you effing emme?” I ask all swept up in an emotional tornado.
“EmME?” He repeats in confusion.
“EmME?! EmYOU! EmYOU in emURANUS!”
I blame Hollywood for brainwashing us all into thinking from infancy that we can have any animal we want as a pet via movies and television.
Por ejemplo I saw Magilla Gorilla as a child (I still have a fondness for the cartoon, okay? Boomerang is a great channel and that is not debateable) then became an adult and saw Congo. The movie’s terribleness alone would have been enough to deter me from ever buying a gorilla if by chance I happened to see one in a pet shop window if I didn’t already realize how horrible of an idea it would be to have a pet gorilla. Now I have concocted this theory that maybe Magilla Gorilla takes place in the future where the gorillas and apes have risen up and dominated us but we finally reclaimed the world as our own again. He is the last of his kind to be sold in the pet store. Due to humans resenting the gorillas and apes (even though Magilla is probably the only good natured gorilla
unlike the rest of those cocksuckers), there in the window Magilla sits just waiting to be bought.
I’ll bet having a gorilla for a pet would be similar to actually having Clifford the Big Red Dog as your pet…disasterous. The books always tried to paint the picture that Clifford actually ended up helping out thanks to his massive and unusual dog size…but we all know how much destruction that gigantic bastard would be causing in the city. He’s like the Godzilla of dogs…PAWSZILLA!
Calm down, now! Don’t panic! It’s all fictional…for now…at least until radioactive chemicals are filling our streets’ potholes to where dogs can roll around in them. We’ve all seen what happens just to the insects who get into radioactive chemicals thanks to Fallout. Hmm maybe then I can finally stop waiting for the day when dogs and cats finally start talking to me. Been waiting for that to happen since the Homeward Bound movies came out. Yeah I said movies, whatevs.
Hollywood already gives us unrealistic expectations of how the opposite should look/act (mainly through trickery) so I don’t know why I’d think they would stop there.
Also as a kid, I was majorly into Nickelodeon shows such as Drake & Josh. Sadly the show just never was the same after Josh lost all that weight. It did help the show’s budget out a lot though because he stopped eating all the extras. So I guess that’s a positive outcome.
I love it when out of the blue a change to an existing joke of yours occurs to you. That happened to me on my lunch break. One of the first successful jokes I had written was running through my mind and then a change I needed to make to make the joke better was clearer than that person in that one song can see after the rain had gone. I’m skipping Open Mics tonight though to get in the bed at a decent time for once this week so I won’t be able to test it out until Thursday. It kind of sucks but oh well. I am kind of looking forward to having a chill night at home for the first time this week.
Anyone who is nice enough to read this should be just the nicest person ever and check out my podcast. Hope it makes you laugh so hard you choke on your gum! It would significantly lower our listener size but I think the sacrifice would be worth it. Then we could say that it made a certain number of people actually die because they were laughing so hard! Everyone would want to listen to that.
Anyways here is the link to my podcast’s website:
You guys are the beast minus the a!
As a 4th grader I firmly believed that my grandma was a Nazi.
One time she even sent me faxes of all of her diabolical schemes on my imaginary fax machine that I definitely did not spend an entire weekend illustrating.
Really the most successful plan gramgram carried out was the time that she lost control of her bowels on our Jewish couch.
It was called a Jewish couch because it would practically reach into your pockets to take all of your change just to stingily hang onto it waiting for a rainy day. Dumb couch. They don’t make umbrellas large enough to shield a couch from the rain so there goes that plan. Could have just let me use that 89 cents to go get a crispy potato soft taco from Taco Bell but noooooo!
The more I think about it though, the more I can’t blame my overactive imagination for why I believed grandma was a Nazi when really it was my family projecting their antisemitism onto me even at such a young age. It explains why I never got to see Schnidler’s List or Seinfeld when I was a kid.
So I went to the Holocaust Museum to gain some unbiased knowledge on the subject while high and everyone in the place was judging me. They were saying, “Can you believe that she’s here high?!” I was like, “Hey man, I’m just trying to have a good time. Quit harshing my buzz.”
I personally cannot believe that majority of that entire joke was thought up today and yesterday. I did the Holocause Museum part on its own yesterday for my first time gracing the stage at the Cap City Comedy Club’s Open Mic in Austin and it did really well. You wouldn’t have even known that part of the joke was organically created in conversation with my boyfriend on the car ride up there that day. I actually did think my grandma was a Nazi growing up and the invisible fax machine part is true to my life as well. I want to do more jokes that are kind of stories out of my real life. Otherwise, even if I were writing successful one-liners (which I’m not really), the material is less personal and anyone could put their spin on it and say it on stage.
My goal is to bring something no one else can take and try to claim as their own to the stage because it is so my own. I feel like if I’m not doing that then I don’t really have any business trying to be a successful comic if I’m only contributing dribble that any comic can get up on stage and say. I’m not really putting my own stamp on my jokes and my first time telling my jokes on the Improv’s stage here in Houston at their first Open Mic in ages last week helped me come to that realization.
I need more of my true personality that makes me me in my jokes and that isn’t coming through in the material I’m bringing to Open Mics. I broke down in the car yesterday on the way to Austin about it because this is what I am so passionate about and want to spend the rest of my life doing. All of my friends from high school are graduating college or getting promoted at their jobs and are excelling in their adult lives while I am working at a job just to pay my bills then going to Open Mics pretty much every night of the week. It is insanely frustrating to not be able to write the level of material that you wish you were writing.
I know getting better at comedy just takes time as every single comic who has a very successful set tells me. I can understand and appreciate that since as with any skill it takes time and practice to perfect it.
I used to play the flute in the band when I was in school. I was not immediately good at it. Far from it. It took me 5 school years to make it finally be good enough to make it into the top band that the school had. I suppose I should remember that when I get frustrated about not being as good at comedy as I want to be.
My boyfriend pointed a few things out yesterday that I fully agree with and will also remember when this frustration overwhelms me (which I know that yesterday will not be even close to the last time this happens to me since it sure isn’t the first time either).
Sometimes with comics your level of taste about jokes develops prior to your joke writing ability. That is exactly what happened with me. One day my material will be up to par at the least with my taste level hopefully. He also pointed out that it’s a really good thing that I am not happy with the level my jokes are at right now. I haven’t even been stand-up this for a year yet so if I were to be completely satisfied with my jokes, something would be majorly wrong with that. I would probably stay stuck in the same place of mediocrity (if I’m even at that level with my jokes) that I am in now. My fears of never getting better at this would actually happen in that scenario. Luckily, I am not happy with my jokes. I am not happy with the level of sucking I feel that I do on stage right now. Learning to just keep trying and trying to get better and keeping my drive and passion fueling me to try to write better jokes will be a struggle sometimes but I have to remember to keep pushing on.
I honestly can’t complain about the talent level of some of the female comedians that get famous for comedy if I give up just because this is a really hard business. I’m better than that. The world deserves more incredible female comics like Tig Notaro, Wanda Sykes and Ellen Degeneres and I aim to be on the same level with them someday but with my own voice and my own awesome jokes.
Sorry if this got a little depressing in places. I don’t really see the point of me updating this thing if I’m not putting my true feelings into it sometimes, you know? I don’t want to try and bullshit you guys. I also read Marc Maron’s keynote speech from last year’s Just For Laughs which made me get all reflective and hopeful about comedy and specifically my comedy. It was a damn good speech if you can’t tell from all the thinking it has clearly made me do here. Patton Oswalt’s keynote speech from this year’s Just For Laughs was really good in that way as well.
Well I think I have gone on enough for one post. Hope you all have a great rest of your Monday! I think the best advice I can give you all and live by myself is to just keep on keepin’ on.
A major love of mine is experiencing live music or to put it a bit simpler…going to concerts.
I have had the immense pleasure of seeing Radiohead live twice this year (once here in Houston and once at Bonnaroo) with my compadre, Kenneth.
When we saw Radiohead in Houston, I had an encounter of the elevated kind.
We were standing in line to get K a soda and this random guy in line starts talking to us just like I hate. I was high though so I allowed it (which really means I was just too lazy to try to prevent it).
The Rando fellow and Kay seem to be hitting it off better than John Mayer and Taylor Swift or John Mayer and Jennifer Aniston or John Mayer and Katy Perry while I’m not there.
Well I was there physically but not mentally or spiritually. Nope, those parts of me were off thinking of how hilarious the word “wood” is. Or how I wish I had some Cheeto Puffs. Yeah, I’d settle for just the Cheeto Puffs….if you could really call it settling…
Something Rando guy says brings me back to reality in an unpleasant way like when you’re napping and your prankster friend sharts in your face instead of just farting.
“I don’t drink…*heavy sigh*…not anymore…”
As if he did something so unforgivably awful that he just had to give up drinking. After the last night of heavy drinking he had, he wakes up in a warehouse full of dead bodies in elaborate traps and a video camera and he’s like, “Dammit! I must have drunk directed another Saw movie! And it’s in 3D?! I’m a drunk monster! Worse than if whatever the fuck that monster was in Cloverfield got drunk. Or worse than watching the movie Cloverfield at all…and that was pretty awful. Never again will you tempt me, tequila in all of your cheap deliciousness during Happy Hour!”
Today I found out about the most glorious thing in existance: nacho bars. I did not know these existed and upon finding out I nearly weapt tears of joy. It is simply the best idea ever involving the best food dish ever.
Do you know how much I wish that was my dinner every night? Oh what an amazing, dream come true that would be. I could constantly change topics thanks to it being a nacho bar so I would never get bored with it! *heavy drools sighs*
Now to address the title of this here posting: Her Highness. I realized that it is the perfect name for a stoner lady. And I am amazed that stoner women out there haven’t started a war over who gets to have this moniker.
I am also slightly disappointed not a single comic I know who knows about my vices hasn’t called me this because it is awesomely clever.
This could very well just be something that only I think is awesomely clever especially since I thought of it…why are you being so quizzical? Did you fall victim to a clever pyramid scheme in the past or something?
….Oh, you did? The African Prince email one? HAHA! Really…? Hmmm. That explains so much about your character to me.
I got the POWER size Peach Mango smoothie from Jamba Juice, my home away from home when I can afford it. It’s payday, bitches, so I splurged and got the badass bitch size. Coleman often refers to me as a badass bitch and I love it. So it has become a regular part of my vocab. I change my mind about using vocab immediately after using it. Dumb move. I love that it’s called POWER size. Especially since I get an energy boost in my smoothies. Drinking them makes me imagine an 8-bit sequence from an old school video game starring me, your lovely heroine who is typing this vivid imagery up for you to read at your leisure and heartily excercise your imagination during, where drinking the smoothie gives me a power up. Any time you are made to feel like an old school video game character (and you loved your Super Nintendo games as much as I did) is the best damn time. You feel invincible…until you trip on your long dress while going up the stairs in front of your coworkers. Then you’re pissed off at your retarded ass self.
It’ll be just like the time I got far too excited about winning wine in the Christmas Raffle at my work Christmas party. I was by the desert table (big shocker there, I know) (also sorry for throwing such a twist in the story at you there; the rest of this tale is fairly tame and twistless) trying to get some more dessert I didn’t need but didn’t have the will power to deny myself of whatever sugary goodness it was. Knowing the prize was wine, I think to myself, “Well that’s a prize I would actually use! It would save me from having to go buy a bottle too! I hope it’s red…it is definetly free though so I shouldn’t be complaining about it. Especially since I haven’t even won it yet…and I usually don’t win stuff like this…”
Then as the fates would have it my name actually got drawn first for the raffle. I jumped for joy excitedly then hugged the bottle close to me like it was my newborn child to protect it from the others.
So I come to work months later and in my cup is innocent, harmless water. A coworker of mine says to me, “Hey Stephanie, that’s vodka isn’t it?” So I know for a fact that my overly excited reaction to winning that wine still hasn’t been forgotten. But at least when your coworkers all think you’re an alcoholic they can’t think any less of you. It also gives you an out for a few crazy emotional outbursts a year with an legit explaination. I may let this crazy old cat army owning elderly woman I work with have it as one of my few crazy emotional outbursts I get this year.
She will have the most redundant conversations with me and this drives me fucking bonkers. She’ll walk down the hallway to my desk and ask me, “Have you seen Brad this week?” I reply, “No, he’s out until Friday.” She’ll look at me with a confused face (which could very well just be normal face for her), “Was he here yesterday?” I sigh heavily because I hate repeating myself, “No, he’s out until Friday.” She’ll nod then say, “So do you think he’ll be here tomorrow?” And then I uppercut her bitchass and scream a shrill cry, “NO, HE’S OUT UNTIL FRIDAY!” and each word slaps her across the face as it passes. Well I guess the ending part is pretty cool when that happens. The sky gets all dark and I suddenly have the ability to levitate as I uppercut her. The terrain beneath us turns into a rocky desert a la Arizona. Then after the gigantic red KO clears out of the way I get back to my desk as if nothing ever happened. It’s happened so many times that she blacks out and won’t remember so I’m in the clear, in case you were worried about me which is sweet of you.
Another coworker of mine, Jason, and I have a theory that this lady (we’ll call her Rhonda because I don’t want to use her real name and have her sick her crazy army of hopelessly devoted cats on me in the future) Rhonda has a crazy army of hopelessly devoted cats that do all of her bidding. She is an old lady (who actually full-on smells like old lady) who wears sweatpants and sweatshirts year round. If this does not seem insane to you, lemme break something down for you: Houston in the Summer is insanely hot. We go up over 100 degree temperatures on the reg. I feel in a strapless, short, cotton sundress that I’m wearing too many clothes. Can you imagine sweatpants and a sweatshirt? She also dons a brownish trenchcoat over everything year round as well! As for most standard crazy elderly women, she rides the Metro aka the public transit service of Houston…the bus. I just know that after she gets off at her stop and makes it to her apartment, three cats are in the kitchen stirring pots of cooking food, two cats are ready by the footstool by her recliner to place the footstool perfectly for her and another three cats are setting the table.
I had the most horrifying experience in her office not too long ago. The hallway right by her office gets extra creeky which doesn’t help me not be on edge since she’s a creepy old lady who’s kind of secluded from the rest of the office building anyway. I step into her office door as the door slams shut behind me…just like the classic first bad sign in a movie about a haunted house. There’s an area before her office that is like a maze of file cabinets that looks straight out of the porn parody version of Alice in Wonderland which takes place in the workplace because Alice is a secretary. For a no-budget porn it had great effects and scenery…like the maze of file cabinets. It was far more eerie in person if you can believe that. Before I can make my way through this maze o’ files to get old creepster woman in my sights, I hear her say, “I thought you forgot about me!” followed by an empty, lonely, desperate for friendship cackle that chilled me to the bone. How did she know it was me? Did she use the mind powers that her BFF Jesus gave to her? Maybe that’s how she keeps her cat army under control. It’s all starting to piece together.
I would scroll up to remind myself of why I even started talking about Rhonda, who I clearly can’t talk enough about, but Tumblr won’t allow me to. So sorry for completely derailing wherever I was going with that. The best Rhonda moment ever that I will never forget is her walking away from me down the hallway and as she nears her office I hear her let out three farts. I know I’m immature but I’ll be damned if that wasn’t hilarious. It really was. That’s something I’ll always remember about her that she doesn’t know that I know. I love knowing little gems like that about people. You can never take them too seriously once you know something like that about them.
Well that’s probably long enough of my yacking for now. Have a good weekend, everybody.
To answer your question simply, yes.
The podcast of my friend Kenneth and I is called Happy Human Hour and we will be recording our very first episode this Sunday.
I’m so excited and I might even wear a pirate hat while we record…no one will see it anyways but I’ll still enjoy my pirate hat that I never get to wear.
We have a Tumblr page for our podcast (happyhumanhourpodcast.tumblr.com) that we will be using as our homepage of sorts for the podcast. All the episodes we record will be posted there and to submit suggestions or questions for specific segments of our show, you would do that there too.
Twitter is also something we use: @HappyHumanHour.
Any other info about the podcast that you would like to know should be on our Tumblr page.
Now onwards to other topics!
This past Tuesday I won the Open Mic Contest at the Fairview. The prize was $25 and I won with impromptu jokes about polar bears (per adiment suggestions of an audience member) that I will keep and reuse also. So really I won 2 things…and gained the knowledge that the set I did that night was full of winning material according to that crowd. I also beat out 9 or 10 other comics some of whom I really did not think that I would beat. *heavy sigh* Winning at something you feel like you work so hard at feels really awesome is what I’m trying to say.
Tonight I go on to be the second host at Saint Dane’s Open Mic and then I am hosting with my boyfriend on Monday at Rudyards for the Couple of Standup Guys Open Mic there.
As you can see, I have a lot going on comedy wise right now which I could not be happier about.
My excitement about this podcast almost overshadows all of those things though. There is so much potential to what we can do on there. I personally look forward to filming sketches The Kay or I have thought up. You’ve seen ones that I have posted on here (if not, they’re on here so I don’t want to really get into describing them again). There are some that I have thought up that I really love and think will translate into something really funny. I also look forward to what I will be able to take away with me from this podcast. I’m sure once we start bringing on guests that I’ll take away the ability to really talk to other comics. Not just about menial things like I do now. I mean getting down to questions that are personal and really help you get to know a person. I think that will help me in the business because I will get past being a starstruck fan of someone I may work with in the future and make it to where they remember me and want to work with me again. Maybe even consider me a friend. Who knows?
I can already feel myself making more of an effort to actually talk to other comics when I’m around them instead of just kind of quietly sitting there when I don’t really have anything good to say like usual. That has always been a pet peeve of mine about myself but eh oh well. Hopefully this helps with that too.
I guess that’s really all that has been going on with me most recently.
I’m really hoping I get some sleep really soon.
I’m seriously running on caffeine alone pretty much right now.
Sorry if there are typos in this. My computer is freaking out and not letting me scroll up to view them and correct them.
So I recently discovered that on iTunes I can stream podcasts for free on my phone. I have been sampling some great comedy podcasts such as the WTF Podcast with Marc Maron, Doug Loves Movies, Comedy Bang Bang, The Nerdist and etc. All these great podcasts have made me come to the conclusion that it would be in my best interests comedy wise to have my own podcast. It would really broaden the people who could hear my jokes (if I can by some magic) get a large enough audience for that to matter. I just find myself thinking of how many people who had probably never even heard of Marc Maron but stumbled upon his podcast and after a listen decided to check out his standup. I just replace his name with mine in that scenario and that possibility is so amazing.
I have asked my lovely friend Kenneth Johnson, or Ianson as he likes to be called, to be my Reggie Watts on the podcast. Since I have finalized the thought of wanting to do a podcast I figured I should land on someone to have to talk to in the podcast. Then on special editions of the show we could bring in a guest…someone interesting for sure. Maybe a comic we both know and like. I guess really just anyone we would like to talk to and ask questions. But I really like the repor Kenneth and I have with each other. We had some seriously hilarious conversations in the car on the way to Bonnaroo. I know the two of us can have interesting conversations others would enjoy hearing.
So I’m excited that he’s really excited about this idea too like I am. Lots of excitement is going on basically. Could be all the caffeine coursing through my blood at a ridiculous speed right now to keep me from falling asleep here on my desk at work. Who knows?!
Since he will be my Andy Richter of sorts I think he should help me come up with details about the show. Half my ideas and half his. Or a collaboration of ideas that we came up with together…thus the collaboration part of the sentence. What am I if not redundant?
No seriously…I don’t know who I am. I always get lost when I go soul searching. People tell me I remind them of an earlier Tim Burton movie…dark and souless. I tell them that I banged Mufasa’s corpse with a strap-on. Usually makes them cry and leave me alone. Kind of confirms their notions about me too but I don’t really care.
Anyway I can’t wait to see where this podcast idea will go. I really want to get a lot of audience participation in it from our listeners via the web. They can pick the topic we talk about on the show maybe or something to that effect. I just want them to feel like they are a part of the show.
If you’d like to be a guest (maybe even our first guest at that!) on the podcast, let me know. The Kay and I need to sit down and have a brainstorming sesh about this but it’ll be cool to know what guests to keep in mind for the show ahead of time. But know it might be in the works very soon. You’d be surprised the things people who are excited and passionate about something can make something like that happen.
I recently set it up to where my tweets show up on my Facebook page. I thought it was a great idea since I try my best to tweet funny things all the time. If tweets went over really well on Twitter (lots of stars and RTs), I’d post them as my Facebook status anyways. That wasn’t always a reliable method of judging how successful a tweet would be on Facebook though so it was always a gamble.
But now it saves me a step having them linked so now I really try and tweet funny things on there all the time. The pressure is on. Everyone can see what I say now.
You can probably surmise that I am really enjoying having the two linked up. I love that people who don’t have Twitter and could not previously enjoy my life observations/joke testing that I did on Twitter now can…and that’s a beautiful thing.
I honestly couldn’t think of why I hadn’t linked the two prior to now. None of my Facebook friends have even minded how abrasive or vulgar I can be on Twitter like I thought that they would.
Then it happened.
My reminder as to why I hadn’t linked them.
Last night at the Open Mic Night I went to at Saint Dane’s like usual, one of the comics told an abortion joke and caused me to think of a little quip I liked about abortion.
So I tweeted:
“I’m actually very pro abortion. I was an aborted baby and look how great I turned out.”
This guy I went to high school with who is apparently a Dad now took offense to it. He wasn’t rude about it or anything but still. I knew my Facebook friends would eventually be offended by one of my tweets (seeing as I really don’t censor myself or hold back on Twitter as I did on Facebook). I thought maybe they would all be cool with it since I’m a comic now and so I don’t really censor myself in real life at all anymore.
That’s one of the many things I love about doing stand-up comedy. It’s the only job where you can say whatever you think, you’re encouraged to be yourself, you can smoke weed and drink on the job, you get to be creative, you’re kind of your own boss, you make other people happy…
I can probably think of other reasons but just know that I really love doing this and I feel passionately about it. So I’ve kind of stopped giving a fuck about how people will react to what I have to say.
Both of my parents have seen me tell my unedited jokes at the first show I got paid to do. It shocked them since I don’t talk like that around them out of respect but even they could accept that I normally do talk like that to anyone else.
I feel like if my parents can accept it, no one else really has any room to get upset with what I say. We’re all entitled to our own opinions but 85% of the time whatever I say, I’m making a joke or attempting to make one. Just keep that in mind. I don’t mean to offend anyone but I’m also not going to censor what I say so that I don’t offend either.
I personally think that you can’t really say you’re a comic unless you offend people. Well I guess what I mean is a good comic. A real, nitty gritty, true comic. I don’t really offend people but a few of my jokes knock people back a few steps with shock.
“Did that sweet, cute looking woman just say that she fucked a magician…?”
My Mom audibly gasped at that joke which let me know it was a good one. It also got that whole room’s attention.
What’s that? You don’t know that joke? Well then come see me at an Open Mic and I will do it for you!
Open Mic Schedule
Monday: Bakers Street Pub in Rice Village & Rudyard’s
Thursday: Saint Dane’s
Or let me know and I will let you know when the next show I do is so you can plan to be at that.
I had my first heckler at Rudyard’s this past Monday. It was some drunk bitch who was there with a dude who was just as fucked up as she was. They had been yelling out things at other comics before me but they just kind of ignored them and kept going through their sets.
I was bombing. I can admit that even though it stings a little.
The room was completely silent except for me talking into the microphone on stage. I was doing jokes that had mostly worked at other places too so I was getting discouraged especially since I hadn’t done awesome necessarily at Bakers Street Monday either. I at least got some laughs there though which was satisfying to me since that’s what I want to do is make people laugh with my jokes…but not as satisfying as having a really good set is. So it was still slightly discouraging.
As I’m running out of jokes to try because they are all going horribly and am trying to think of another one I could tell, this bitch yells out, “Yeah that didn’t go over well!”
To which I respond, “Like I couldn’t tell that it didn’t go over well. This is an Open Mic. This is what Open Mics are for is testing out new jokes.”
They left after that.
I ended up giving up on stage though and not using all of my time which made everyone say “Awwwww!“like they felt sorry for me. I didn’t want them to and if they wanted to do something for me they could have at least laughed a little.
I’m not one to let one bad night discourage me but damn if Monday didn’t. Bombing twice and having a heckler. Not to mention weeks of frustration at how my joke writing was going…er….well, more like not going I guess. Bombing twice that night confirmed why I was frustrated at the jokes I was writing…they weren’t good jokes.
Anyways as I walk off stage to go back to where my boyfriend Coleman was sitting, I walk past one of my comic friends Chase and he grabs my arm.
He says, “Hey you ran those hecklers off so good job.”
I say that I ran them off by bashing them over the head with terribleness.
“No…you made them realize they were being jerks.”
I really appreciated him telling me that. Everyone else just stared at me as Coleman and I left like they were being cautious of me because I might have an emotional breakdown or something.
I was holding back the tears really really well…until we got to my car and Coleman made me talk about everything. So I fell apart in the parking lot. I feel really passionately about doing stand-up so at that point I couldn’t have held back the tears if I had wanted to.
I’m super lucky he’s my boyfriend. We’ve been together almost 2 months now and that was the first time he had seen me cry.
Afterwards he says, “I don’t ever want to make you feel like that. Seeing you upset like that made me feel awful.”
Despite how Monday night made me feel in the moment, it caused me to reflect a lot and realize/ponder a few things. Maybe my jokes don’t always have a punch line. Maybe I am too attached to the way my jokes are now. Maybe my joke writing process isn’t a process that’s working for me anymore.
I realized that all of those things were true and I wanted to change that. I think that this realization was inevitable. I’ve been going up every week at Open Mics since January. So that’s about 7 months that it has taken me to get where I am comedy wise. In order to grow as a comedian and write better jokes I feel like I really needed to have those realizations.
So Tuesday all day long I educated myself on the art of stand-up, formulas of a good joke and did joke writing exercises to get the lazy, obese, Cheeto Puff addict of a hamster in my mind running and wheezing on that wheel.
I took my material to Fairview that night and Coleman told me he thinks that is the best crowd response that he’s ever seen me get probably. Chase told me one of my jokes was such a strong joke that I should open with it. That way the crowd knows you’re funny immediately and will be with me for the whole rest of my set.
He was right about that too. I tried that out last night and it worked really well.
Half the time I was up there I tried out new jokes and the other half of the time I mainly gave out random observations.
Por ejemplo, I had been listening to the radio in my car that night and heard a song that said:
“If you can’t have the one you love, love the one you’re with.”
It was something like that which I felt was some fucked up song lyrics. There was no joke there. I just wanted to state how fucked up I thought it was. And they were with me. One guy even vocalized how he agreed with me.
So thought Monday was discouraging and upsetting at the time, it was an experience I’m glad happened. Coleman told me I should remember that a night like that can end up being positive for next time. Yeah, I know…he’s smart and that’s good advice and blah blah blah whatthefuckever you’re going to say. I know. But I can’t promise that I will keep that in mind for next time since I am an emotional person. When I say that I don’t mean like Bi-polar or something like that. I mean when I feel an emotion, I really feel it. It overcomes me. It’s like it submerges me completely. So we’ll see what happens next time I guess. After my newly written jokes going well twice now, I’m excited to see what other jokes those joke writing exercises help me come up with in the future.
I for one am about 80% sure I’m not a mouse. Secondly I am really bad at solving mysteries. I mean it takes me forevs to connect all the pieces. You practically have to slap me across the face with it like a stanky ass fish.
Please don’t actually slap me with a fish. If I liked or enjoyed the smell of fish, I’d be a lesbian, okay? Since I don’t though, I’d prefer it if you kept that smell away from my face, ya dig? If you do, I’ll wait until you’re rich and successful then send a guy over to cut off your prized pony’s head to put in bed with you to send you a message. Don’t make me do that because I will fucking do it, man!
Since I’m so bad at mystery solving I always had to cheat at Clue. I was born into a family of board game cheaters though. Playing a game of Monopoly with those savages was complete chaos. We almost ended up on Jerry Springer because of a game of Monopoly. We ended up getting bumped for a crack baby though.
The Jerry Springer Show had also hired me once to be a photographer for them. I had to follow around show applicants and make sure they weren’t lying on their applications. They really don’t fact check at that place because they thought I was a pro photographer.
Earlier I was thinking about it and George Lucas has said that the Star Wars movies are for kids, thus the inclusion of the horrible fucking atrocity Jar Jar Binks. If this is the case though then why did the prequels pretty much center around the politics of the Galactic Senate? Kids were all like WTF is this boring ass shit?!
Better yet EVERYONE was like “WTF is this boring ass shit?!” when all the political jargon was happening in the prequels. And also, “Why the fuck is that Jar Jar thing talking in a retarded way when NONE of his people fucking talk like that?!” And I mean really if Jar Jar is for kids Lucas must be catering to some kind of special needs Star Wars fans that he thinks need a character who completely dumbs down normal, everyday speech to say shit like, “Me-sa Jar Jar Binks! You-sa Annnnie!” when he’s talking to Anakin.
Also the kids in my neighborhood have real potty mouths. The stores are always low on their toilet paper supply because that’s all these shit lipped kids eat. But if one ever gives you any trouble, just take a plunger to ‘em. Clears the problems right up.
Apparently this three year old kid’s grandma is in trouble for giving this boy cookies that were laced with marijuana. They’re saying they caused him to injure himself landing him in the hospital. All I can think though is that I wish my grandma had been thoughtful enough to give me weed-laced cookies. Some kids have all the luck. I bet he even understood Yo Gabba Gabba after eating those cookies. At least someone gets it.
Things I find myself pondering currently:
1. Why would CBS ever consider making the terrible show Unforgettable? It’s like one of their idea people said, “Let’s make a show about a lady who never forgets shit & solves crimes…like a crime solving elephant but human!” No! That’s a bad CBS!
2. I wonder if Godzilla had a brother who was gay named Gayzilla who was way too focused on his search for Oscar Meyer wiener cars to shove up his ass to destroy any buildings…
3. Wonder if people ever call Andy Dick a dick but he never realizes that they mean it as an insult…
4. Do you think George Washington ate his wife’s pussy? He had wooden teeth. That bitch would have to worry about getting termites in her vag!
5. Why has there never been a rap song that takes place in a beeper store talking about being “beep deep”?
So I briefly mentioned recently that my boyfriend, like myself, is also an aspiring comedian. He is and a funny one at that so we often riff off of each other which leads to hilarious conversations (one of the many many reasons I’m lucky to have him).
Yesterday we had one that I just absolutely had to share. If I kept this one to myself I’d be so full of regret. Reading over it still make me crack up majorly today.
We were discussing plans to watch Breaking Bad later that night.
Me: Okay. Sounds like a muthafuckin plan.
Me: Well excuse me for trying to be more like my personal hero Samuel L. Jackson.
Him: He has a penis though. You should have girlie heroes like Condaleeza Rice or My Little Pony.
Me: How gender biased of you! I’ve never been very girly.
Him: You’re super curly. God damn it iPhone!
Me: Is that supposed to be some kind of insult to my pubes?
Him: They’re not that firmly. Damn it iPhone.
Me: Oh so now I’m gonna get teased about the firmness of my vagina? This is outlandish.
Him: You have a very soft vagina.
Me: Oh thank you. We both appreciate you saying so.
Him: You pussy.
Him: Oooh. Are we role playing? I’ll be the lonely apartment owner.
Me: Oh that’s so hot.
Him: Come sit on my lap.
Me: Oooh gladly. ;)
Him: Mmm. You’re so warm.
Me: You make me radiate warmth. Also I peed on your lap in excitement. Let’s not dwell on that though.
Him: These were expensive pants.
Me: Well now they are rich with memories!
Him: YeeeeeA. I’m going to smell these when you’re away.
Me: ;) That’s encouraged and is making me swish my tail.
Him: Mmm. I grab your tail and fling you across the room.
Me: Oh you know just how much I like danger, dontcha baby?
Him: Yeah. I’ve dressed my penis up like a mouse. Come swat it.
Me: You don’t have to tell this kitty cat twice. Is that piece of cheese we talked about positioned near your asshole? Kitty wants to force feed the cheese to the hungry mousey.
Him: No, I’m just…sick. ANYWAY yea, yea you dirty pussy, claw my cock.
Me: This is for you Tom! I’m fucking Jerry up for you!
Him: Awww yes. Lick me with your sandpapery tongue.
Me: *slaps you and scratches you* make me some lasagna, bitch! Calling someone a bitch is twice the insult from a cat because we hate dogs. So that’s me dirty talking.
Him: Aw yea. I’m a bitch. Put me on a leash.
Me: All I have is a cat leash…it’s pretty dainty.
Him: Put it on my cock.
Me: But your cock has a mouse on it…
Him: Put it on my mouse.
Me: It’s on as tight as it can go. Time to choke the mouse.
Him: Aw yea. Yea baby, choke my mouse with your furry paws. MmmmmMMMMmmmmmMMmMMmmm!
Me: Everyone will always remember how much I fucked this mouse up thanks to these scars I’m going to leave all over it.
Him: Yea. Make my dick bleed. Mmm give me cat AIDS.
Me: We call it Feline AIDS, thanks. Secondly I don’t have it. I can still make your dick bleed…maybe give you cat hepatitis.
Him: Yea baby. I love hepatitis. It makes me so hot. And ill.
Me: Lol! Okay I can’t do this anymore. We gotta talk about something else. I’m getting too turned on for work.
Don’t you think we make a good match? I know that I do. Well I will log back on here and do one of my regular blog posts later in the day probably. Really had to share this though while I was thinking about it.