Game on! This fine photographic image was snapped at the birthday soiree of one Robert Webber this past year. This is but a few moments after I, in a Belvedere-rocks fuled rampage, pulled my pants down, shoved my lime-green thong clad ass into the brithday boy's face, then flopped down onto that couch, posed, and screeched "I LIKE PARTIES!!!". What you don't see is the next part of the shennanigan, where I grab a long-stem rose some douchenozzle bought to try and impress some bottle-blonde dolt, chomped it, and then spat the petals out at all my horrified onlookers. The looks on their faces were not unlike those that a Kenyan zookeeper must get when a rhino turns on them during a safari. Sadly, no tranquiliaer darts were readily available. That these people still talk to me when I'm sober makes them living saints in my book. But oh, does Mama like her drinks!
I spent Wednesday preparing for my performance in the evening (with my baby doll of a comedy partner Ms. Sara Allocco) by sleeping in ridiclously late and then eating nothing. I did drink my can of Dr. Pepper, and when I got to Mo Pitkin's, one of our two gracious hosts for the evening, Ms. LiAnne Stokes had thoughtfully brought a box of Munchkins from Dunkin' Donuts. I made up a new game titled, "Who Can Eat The Most Horrifying Amount of Fried, Sugared Dough", and boy was my fat ass in it to win it!!! Like the wily shrew, I also must consume twice my body weight daily, be it soda pop, pastry, or even my personal favorite, Maker's on the rocks.
The show went well and I was so exhilarated after. There's nothing quite like having someone laugh at something you wrote, nothing at all can compare to that high. Plus, I got to see a bunch of other wonderful comics who either performed or were there to support, so it was a grand night all around. That is, until everyone bailed on me when I was in the bathroom. It's cool, I'm not still crying (No, I'm not! It's allergies). I called Sara and made threatening comments to her as she sped home in a cab with Giulia, and to her credit, she was very pleasant and did not call the authorities on me. This time.
Anyway, this was all child's play because I've been saving all my love for our Holiday Hi-Jinx party this Saturday night. We abstained from drinking tonight and will do so tomorrow as well so as to make sure we're in top form for Saturday's all night dance-a-rama.
Speaking of...today I talked to my ex-boyfriend and mentioned I was excited about Saturday because I was going to style my hair all fancy-like for the party, which I never do because I mean...look at it! It's got its own crazy style that I just don't have the patience to even attempt to override 99% of the time. So this is a big deal, at least to me. Ben, in his typical fashion, said, "Well, why should I care? I don't even like straight hair." And I howled in indignance, "I AM NOT TRYING TO SEDUCE YOU!!! I'M EXCITED ABOUT MY HAIR!!!" Was that necessary? No. Was it funny in a disturbing way? No. Not one bit. In my defense, I then said, "Also you do too, you like that awful Chewbacca look alike Denise Richards." Boy,I sure showed him! Right, guys! Guys?