Nerdtastic aspiring comedienne who can be found eating in bed and playing her PS3 named Mace Windu most of the time.

Stephalicious Tales

Stories that may/may not have happened to me. Just remember you can't always believe everything you read. Also seeing is believing.


The Royal Tenenbaums / Primetime

H/T @sjw529

Well this Wes Anderson and Kanye mashup is my new favorite thing. #kanyewes


@CarbonellNestorOye @jorgegarcia even on #BatesMotel not a morning goes by I’m not thinking of you

I’m having a major LOSTgasm right now. #LOST

#TwinPeaks may be 24 years old today but it will forever have a tight grasp on my heart.


An Old Spanish Painting Perfectly Depicts What George Michael And Maeby’s Love Child Would Look Like

It creeps me out almost how much this looks like Maeby and George Michael’s nonexistent love-child. #arresteddevelopment

Whisper your non-detailed sexual fantasies into our ears. #penumbra #stationtheater


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.


Wouldn’t Call it a Challenge if it Was Easy

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. 

Can’t You Effing EmME?!

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!

To Abu Dahbi With Extreme Like of Their Name

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.

Random Recap of the “Real” Persuasion (Because I Keeps it Real While Playing For Keeps)

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!”