Let's Not Fight Please

Today is a day where I feel like all the automated phone operators are yelling at me.

Don't even get me started on the real ones.

My moods are in some kind of a conga line. There's just no telling which one wants to lead next, but they seem to be making a circle around the refreshments table a lot at this here brain party. One of them is wearing a lamp shade on its head. Or maybe that's just the depression talking...

Man with lamp shade on head takes a moment to reconsider his hard-partying lifestyle.
photo courtesy of Flickr and Sister72

Pride Goeth Before a Fall, So Coming Soon (Spoiler Alert!): *SPLAT*

O hai!

My lurvely friend Diana tipped me off as to a wee shout-out I got in this esteemed comedic magazine blog from the North Carolina Comedy Arts Festival, which I did stand up for this past weekend. Somehow, I had the most fun onstage I've had in awhile.

(Last paragraph only for the impatient multitaskmasters)

Fine. Here's the goods for those of you who hate links:

"Four comics especially stood out to me: They are Aparna Nancherla, Joe Zimmerman, Maria Ciampa and Jeff Havens. Each one of these comics had a very strong presence, a unique point of view and excellent writing skills. In short, I wouldn’t be surprised to see these four, in the next few years, ascend to the surface of the underground."

Also, North Carolina! Have you been? The hotel I stayed in was SPORTS-themed. Imagine it, only brighter! The room was in the Basketball section (there were four in totes: basketball, football, soccer, and fourth forgotten one). The adjoining restaurant was called Time Out Sports Bar, and all the employees had to wear referee uniforms. *Phweeep* Whatta fun time!

And I get to go backsies for improv this coming weekend.

It's all so convenient because one of my New Year's Resolutions was to make as many 5-hour drives as I could within the span of two weeks.

Starry-eyed, ovah heah!

Random Feel-good Photo of the Day:
A good technique to settle a troublesome restaurant bill = a zany pen!

Self-Helpless? Try a Sugar-Fix!

The more self-help I read, the more I'm learning to not be afraid of negative feelings, but to just embrace them.

Ok!

But what does that mean?

I mean when I'm sad for no (apparent) reason, and it happens from time to time (oh does it happen!), I just sit in it, in a kiddie pool of self-pity, slapping pats of mud on myself. That's really pretty much as embracing as one can get.

Sure, bookstore. Lump a science together with a yuppie trend, why not?
photo courtesy of Flickr and victoriapeckham

I'm not sure it helps though! People keep talking about some miraculous sense of freedom from embracing their sadness and anger. In fact, it sounds so liberating and mysteriously fulfilling that it almost seems like they're...peacefully happy? Full circle, folks! Those hippies have done it again. And I mean that in a nice, enlightened way.

***

There is an o-my-gawd. (Via Cupcake Takes the Cake)

Read it and weep for joy. But seriously, I love that this article was posted in the Health & Life section. I can think of no better way to bring HEALTH to your LIFE than by consuming a tiny vat full of the love child of butter and sugar. NO BETTER WAY.

Holy sugar-high, Dark Knight!

Surprisingly, it took me a real time to find a good frosting picture. I kept getting icy windowpanes, and that junx would just not do.

Oh, I see. You're perfect.
photo courtesy of Flickr and jslander

But Flickr always comes through when your peepers crave colors, shapes, and textures with just a glimmer of reality.

Presenting: Stage Dad!

first off -- read my comic friend nick turner's very funny BLOGS BY DOGS. it's a keepah! prime internet real e-state.

onto matters of blood...

***

the other night, my father and his coworkers attended one of my comedy shows.

assorted compliments:

"keep it up!"

"good for you!"

those were my favorites.

after the show, i asked my father how he enjoyed it, and he didn't even comment on the show, he just said:

"you looked very tired up there. you should get some rest."

hoo boy. *whistle through teeth*

then today morning, when i was leaving the house, he said:

"you should comb your hair. you can't go to work like that!"

(i had just combed my hair)

now my dad has never been one for veiled language, but methinks something is a-brewing here. WHUDDIDIDO?!

in fact, i think he's trying to undermine my self-esteem and/or put in his bid to be my manager! oh, but daddoo! the formative years are over. it's too late to assert that kind of control over my psyche. *carefree dance on shrink couch*

in all actuality, my dad is one of the shweetest people imaginable and i'm finding his little nerf darts bouncing off of the side of my head pretty funny.

i'm hoping tomorrow will involve wardrobe criticism. fingahs cwossed!

Archived Picture for Good Times' Sake:

daddio

Cheesy Cattiness

Oh me oh my. The day is escaping me without a post. Well, I think I will wax briefly about body image. I have a hard time not being jealous of my more genetically-blessed female peers. In fact, often I will stare without hesitation at those who I find most pleasing on the eye. But I will leer half out of appreciation and half out of outright jealousy. In no small measure do I consider jealousy a useless state of being. However, despite my feelings, I do engage in it more than I would like. Not that I should overlook the strengths that I myself possess, but after years of pinching and scrunching my face in the mirror in dislike, I have a hard time realizing that my strengths are ever worthy of anyone's attention. Yet, I do not even mind not being of supermodel status. The perils of celebrity and flawlessness come with their own bag of ills. Still, more often than not, once I rationalize myself out of heroine-worship of yet another goddess creature, another pops up in her place. The world is, to my dismay, seemingly in no short supply of striking women. But then again, they all have to duke it out on their own level. I will eat my cheetos and enjoy the show.
photo courtesy of Cogeco Cable

Self-Esteem Implants

So today has proven interesting just by the slight fact that my white work-appropriate button-down shirt is unbuttoned until about halfway down because I'm wearing a low-collar summer dress underneath it (yes, I know it's not summer anymore) but I also know that it feels like my boobs are looking at me. It's one thing to catch someone staring at your boobs, and it's another thing entirely for you to feel like your boobs are staring at you.

Everytime I look down, there is my cleavage staring monstrously up into my face. I don't know what sort of reaction it wants. But I can tell you this much, I've never felt so anti-objectified in my life. They are pretty much like "We are boobs. We are pretty. Or at least mildly scintilliating. And titillating. What do you bring to the table?" And I am speechless. Because how do you one-up yourself? They are giving me a major inferiority complex and considering that my head is in the clouds today as is, it's just not necessary. They are out of line, and I wish it could be something as simple as asymmetry but that would be the least of my worries.

photo courtesy of Sacred Garden Gallery

This conflict of interest between my torso and I wouldn't be such a problem if there were not all this idle worship of breasts in society, as lovely as they are.