Tag Archives: humor

I Have a Blog No One Reads, Too — And I Know How to Use It

So. . . it’s been awhile. Turns out when you give birth to twins, your ability to sit still for lengthy periods of time seriously dwindles. I did pull off the all-female production of 1776, which was nominated for five local BroadwayWorld Awards and won for Best Costumes (YESSSS!). I was nominated as Best Actress in a Musical and as Person to Watch, which was very flattering and exciting, even if I didn’t win. I also performed in two other productions (Into the Woods and a world premiere play called My Dear Miss Chancellor, which was about a secret society of sword fighting lesbians set in Jane Austen era London and yes it was as bad ass as that sounds).

I’ve been busy. Happy. Exhausted. Busy. And not very full of writing, I am sorry to say!

So what, dear reader, has brought me out of hibernation?

Why, self-righteous rage, of course!

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A few pregnancy vignettes

A series of thoughts during weeks 7-10. Warning: May contain TMI


Well it finally happened.

I ripped a hole in the ass of my pajama pants by doing LITERALLY NOTHING.  And don’t you dare come after me with that misuse of “literally” crap or I will literally kill you.  By which I mean I will end your life, which is the literal meaning of “kill you.”


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One Woman Breastfeeding Band

This is a twins breastfeeding pillow.

One Man band

I think it needs a few adjustments.


Maybe tap shows, too.

Maybe tap shoes, too.

If I stood on a street corner with a tin can while feeding two babies at once and playing all these instruments, I could save up for the babies’ college funds in no time!

What’s sad is that I have been through so many indignities in this first trimester that the above scenario doesn’t even seem that embarrassing.

McConnelling Favorites

Jon Stewart is basically this generation’s older, more Jewish Shirley Temple — he keeps America’s spirits high at times of confusion, frustration, and stupid news anchors.  He just recently gifted the internet, and thus the world, with something very special.  McConnelling.  Some old senator made a wordless campaign video with some crappy music over it and Stewart invited everyone to play the game of redubbing the video with various tunes.

It will time suck your morning, but it will be glorious.

Here are a few of my favorites – I can only embed YouTube videos, apparently, so you’ll have to go to the links for most of these.  Feel free to add your own!




And *kisses fingertips*


An Englishman, a Frenchman, and a Guy from Brooklyn (Brooklynman?)

I’m thinking about applying to this directing internship at a local (and widely respected) theatre company. Part of the application includes a 2 minute (max) video. I thought about telling a joke first, so I recorded this to see how long it would be. Since the whole joke is about 2 minutes, I probably won’t use it (and certainly not this take since my hair looks ridiculous and I’m bra-less with a Ubuntu shirt on), but it’s my favorite joke to tell so I thought I’d share.

Beware, thar be f-bombs. Enjoy :)

Toothless in Seattle

This is a story about how my husband is willing to risk his sanity for my vanity.  There is quite a bit of preamble, but I haven’t blogged in awhile, so I figure I’m due for a long post.

When I was a little kid, I adored my dentist, Dr. Turk.  I named various toys after him, including a lion with wings and a crown.

May I present: Dr. Turk.
(Also, I CANNOT believe I actually found a photo of this toy.
Hot DAMN I love the internet.)

Dr. Turk’s office waiting room was literally a playground. (I am literally not misusing this word *snort*)  There were towers and slides and hidey holes, all encased in brown shag carpet.  His office was bright and open and you got to pick the flavor of floride, floss, and mouthwash used.  There were at least three flavor options for each.  On your way out, there was a gigantic white furniture wheel with dozens of compartments and drawers filled with stickers and little toys that you could choose as a parting gift.  Going to the dentist was AWESOME, plus, on the way home, we usually stopped by Nathan’s for hotdogs and sometimes we were lucky enough for Mom to drive us through the carwash (the height of little kid entertainment).  As you can imagine, while I have had some very nice dentists since then, none have really compared to Dr. Turk.

I remember one such appointment, in between obediently spitting out my apple candy-flavored toothpaste in a much-congratulated show of how well I knew how to brush my teeth, and skipping to the prize wheel to claim my door prize, when Dr. Turk mentioned to my mother how I had perfect teeth.  Of course, thought I, digging through the stickers, of course I should have perfect teeth.  I am the perfect child.


But,” said the kind, wise, and generous dentist, “because she has perfect teeth now, it means she may have some trouble when her adult teeth grow in.”

Fiddle dee dee!  Cobbswoggle!  Perposterosity!  I gave it barely a thought and we went on our way to Nathan’s to ride the ascending rocketship 300 times while my poor mother counted the holes in the ceiling (this was before smartphones, remember).  One cross-continental move, the rest of childhood, a harrowing teenage wasteland (as I watched others succumb to metal braces), and a rapidly disintegrating decade of being 20-something and useless, the chickens have come home to roost.

Dr. Turk, dear, dear Dr. Turk.  Your counsel holds true to this day.

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I Can Haz Job

After a successful but unprofitable call back (did very well, but didn’t book it), I accepted a temporary position curating content at a very popular cat meme website.  I basically spend all day doing what most people at work are trying not to get caught doing.  And, my friends, it is awesome. This might be why I haven’t posted in awhile — it turns out when you spend all day trolling the internet, you don’t really want to be online anymore.

For the most part, I’m really enjoying myself.  I get a weird OCD pleasure from having to fill up my quota of funny posts for each of the pages I preside over.  I made a little spreadsheet and I x off each time slot and then highlight the row when I’m done and oh, um, also, I’m a total nerd and can’t believe that I’m so proud of this.  What’s weird is that I’m not even a very organized person.  I wish I was.  I also associate organization with aesthetic taste and I don’t have that either.  I wish I were one of those people whose houses look like it happened on purpose, but I just shove furniture around and throw shit up on the wall and hope it doesn’t fall.

Anyway, despite the fact that I don’t think I’m naturally organized, I get serious satisfaction out of filling in bubbles and crossing off things when I complete tasks.

I have pretty much no other tasks other than to fill my daily quota, which is great, because whenever I’m done, I can go home.  But before I leave, there is one little mud field I have to drag myself across.

Comment moderation.  Oh God, comment moderation.  I try not to read comments in general because I know there lurks trolls, but now I have to look at them and read them carefully.  Here are few things that I probably already knew, but really had hammered home after three weeks of doing this:

1) There are a lot of disgusting, racist, sexist, stupid, ignorant, and cruel people commenting on the internet.

2) People are really impatient about letting the world see what disgusting, racist, sexist, stupid, ignorant, and cruel things they have to say.

But guys.


When you post something with cursing or anything sexual, it gets sent to a human being for moderation.  This takes what we call TIME.  Yes, there are bots that can censor the obvious.  But when you get all profane up in here or you say “I would love to see Fluttershy in a hentai movie” or you start posting links to things without saying where those link end up (::shudder::), sometimes it gets sent to a special little purgatory where some poor sap paid hourly has to sift through them all and either censor your potty mouth so advertisers will keep throwing money at us or make sure you’re not a Nigerian prince.  So here are your choices.  Either don’t say profane things or just wait until it gets through the system.  You know what you should NOT do?


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