I went to a club the other night and it cost $30 to get in. I would never in a million years spend that kind of money on a club, but my friend wanted to go so I went to be supportive. Honestly, I think it was the grossest place I have ever been to in my life. Mainly because it smelled like people had just been farting for hours. It’s like because it was loud and dark they just felt free to express themselves in farts. The most annoying part is people act like they’re so cool and chic, paying lots of money to go dance, but meanwhile they’re just farting up a storm. And that is why I will never go to a club again.
Sometimes when I’m really cold and walking to work, I’ll see a dog walking with its’ owner and I’ll think, “Wow, I’d love to be that dog.” But, today I realized that’s actually a really sad way to think.
One of my least favorite things is when you’re walking behind someone and then you decide you are faster than they are and want to pass them. So you start to speed up, but then they speed up too and you’re walking together, side by side. I always feel so weird. What do I do? Speed up or slow down? It’s like a secret race, and being extremely competitive I always jog ahead. But I think the way to remedy the situation is to reach out your hand and walk together. Not only will this stop my competitive edge, but it will also ease my loneliness.
In 2nd grade I was really good at drawing horses. So good, in fact, friends would ask me to draw for them and I was more than happy to oblige. It was a really great time in my life. But my drawing ability lasted only that year. Something snapped and I don’t know what it was, but I just couldn’t do it anymore. I guess my talents just shifted as I got interested in other things. My classmates and I would have a contest for who could squeeze in their nose, basically plug it without using your hands, for the longest amount of time. I was the second best at this. I also got really into curling all of my fingers together very quickly. I was the fastest in my class and people were pretty impressed. But these things aren’t useful today. Today it would be really cool if I were still good at drawing horses. Maybe I could even make a job of it. I guess I could try to make a job of the other things, but I’m not really sure what those jobs would entail.
This peanut butter has been powdered and defatted. It’s called “Great Stuff.” But I think it should be called “Sad Stuff,” because that’s what peanut butter without fat tastes like. From now on I’m going to stick to Peanut Butter & Co. “Smooth Operator.” A peanut butter I not only love and respect, but one whose name accurately describes it.
I moved to New York City a couple of weeks ago and, as a writer, I like to pretend I’m Carrie Bradshaw. A Carrie Bradshaw with little sexual experience. A Carrie Bradshaw who doesn’t go out, but instead, gets most of her social interactions by frequenting multiple grocery stores. A Carrie Bradshaw who still hasn’t gotten around to buying curtains, so she is forced to get dressed by crouching down away from the windows so people can’t see her. A Carrie Bradshaw whose proudest moments are mastering push-pull doors and remembering to swing both arms while walking. Here’s to my crazy New York life.
People say live everyday like it’s your last. But I think that’s a depressing way to look at life. If I lived everyday like it was my last I would be scared 100% of the time. I would want to be with people 24/7, to need constant attention and care. Which I guess is pretty much how I live my life now. So I think you should live your life like you have at least a month left. That way you can relax for a couple of weeks, just taking it easy, doing things for you. Getting essential errands done, without feeling any real time constraint.
A couple of days ago I was walking and eating a sandwich. I started kind of choking but I didn’t have any water. So I just kept eating the sandwich, trying to wash the food lodged in my throat down with more food. Obviously that didn’t work. But still I kept doing it and kept on walking, pretty much on the verge of death. Then one of those guys selling tickets to a comedy show started talking to me. I obviously couldn’t talk, just shook my head, my mouth full of sandwich and my eyes filled with fear. The guy looked worried for me, but I kept moving and kept eating. Eventually the sandwich was washed down with more sandwich and I was happy again. But this experience got me thinking, I’d rather choke and die on a sandwich than talk to a stranger. It was really a shame because it was painful and also I didn’t get to enjoy my sandwich at all. Needless to say, I won’t be walking with sandwiches anymore.
this is on friday january 18th at 7:30 at UCBeast!
reserve tickets here!
We’ve been doing the East Coast Hello Giggles show for a year now at UCB; I can’t thank the UCB family enough for that. Please come to our hellogiggles show, Friday, January 18 at UCBTheatreEast and help us celebrate! And tell all your friends to come too.
Make your reservation here: http://east.ucbtheatre.com/shows/view/3309
- Pooped (in the toilet)
- Farted (without pooping)
- Pooped (without farting) (also on toilet)
- Sneezed and made a small fart
- Big fart while making a small sneeze
- Coughed while peeing (in the bathroom)
- Accidental pee while coughing (in the garden)
- Took a picture next to the Lincoln Monument
- Carried his soiled underwear through the halls until he could find a garbage to properly dispose of them
- Told us what was happening in our neck of the woods