This Was Edited And Posted After The Fact.

Hey everyone! Greyhound has free wifi, so I am VIRTUALLY cruising.

There was actually one seat left on this hub of a hot spot and it is right next to the toilet! How convenient... well, not right next. I have two heavy-boy-bookends, who have probably robbed something... like my personal space! It’s okay, though because I was so lonely in my early twenties, that now it just feels like soul mates. Also, it's a great exercise in being assertive, something I have never had an issue with.

me: “are you awake now?”

ex-con: “huh?”

me: “yeah, I’m going to need my seat back because my thighs are sweating too much by being forced so close together.”

x: “you got any R&B on your iPod”

me: “I have a little, why, you want to listen to my iPod?”

x: “yeah”

me: “you can’t.”

x: “why?”

me: “because it’s mine and I’m using it.”

Stop talking to me while I have headphones in, people!

So, you might think I am complaining- I am just illustrating that these people are out there. The terrorists need to know what to attack next. Hey TERRORISTS, you’re wasting your time trying to get back on airplanes... all the WORST people are on the Greyhound and there is absolutely no security! I am only telling you this, because I will never ride on one again.

Another strong point was that I was doing a show right after I got off the Greyhound that night and I was on the phone with my friend, who was picking me up, when I mentioned something about the show... Little did I know that ears are EVERYWHERE on a Greyhound, just dying to talk to me about MY LIFE!

passenger: “I couldn’t help but strain to hear your muffled, but brief conversation... did you say you were doing a show?”

me: “yes, I did.”

passenger: “what kind of show? What do you do- are you an actress?”

me: “a comedian.”

passenger: “COOL.”

Here’s the thing about being a comedian, I don’t want anybody I don’t know to know about that. So now, the whole back of the bus knows this about me to the point that I get asked "where are your smiles?!"

“OH MY SMILES?! Is my face an unpleasant backdrop to this joyously delayed trip in the heaven wagon?! Why, they must have been SQUEEZED out of me by the two beef patties in this backseat burger! OR they were fumigated out by the facilities half a midget away from me."

Speaking of small children, yes- one is screaming 3.5 feet away from me. How can I think?! I CAN’T and that’s how Greyhound likes their customers: mindless. So I am doing a fine job fitting in and luckily it's getting dark.

Outside the bus, during a pit stop, my future agent/ the inquisitive eavesdropping passenger is asking even more questions:

passenger: “are you famous?”

me: “no”

passenger: “oh, well you get paid, though.”

Not really, but I didn’t have the heart to break it to this star struck kid, who couldn't handle the reality of doing something for nothing while he was still under the impression that a famous person might be sitting behind him on a bus in the middle of Colorado. Only somebody who rides a Greyhound bus could possibly think that someone famous might be riding the Greyhound bus.

Anyway, a 2 hour and 50 minute bus ride is going on 6 hours, but at least I have a scarf to bury my face in when I see someone get up to use my bedside-public toilet. When I see someone coming, that's when I fart real hard, because- why not?!

I would continue writing but this 6'5' giant is reading over my shoulder and where his eyes go, his legs follow, so if I want to walk again I better shut this lap top... I don't think he can read so much as he is waiting for pictures to show up on this "book".

There Is No Point

Responsible.

I am responsible now... I used to cry myself to sleep, wishing I could pay rent and buy groceries. I wanted nice things. Now, as I sit in a cafe, sipping a spicy chai and typing on my MacBook Pro, I recognize how my wants have shifted.

I was watching a movie the other night, where a character had practically every bone in her body smashed in some awful accident. As she sat in her hospital bed, morphine constantly dripping into her blood stream, I wished I had an excuse to be on morphine all day. Maybe in some sort of terrorist attack, where I lay out the bad guys and save the world, or at least the building.

I used to love opiates and hanging out, but now- I can't. I have to stay focused, but for what? Success? Presence? I just watched 2012 and I realize success is pretty pointless. However, like other rappers before me, I must get dat paper, y'all. Sure, I would rather be euphorically itchy all over while I tried, but then I yell at cats for "talking" too much.

I'm working on a book, but don't tell anyone... I don't want to subject myself to public ridicule. I was writing jokes, but then I lost the page I was working on, so I picked up some opiates and now am havein fuhn. Don't know what all these small townsie people are looking at... like their ticks don't make them itchie... I could have ticks, what do they know? One thing definitely havein: FUUUUUUUUUhhhhHHhhhn. I should go some where and masturbate.

OH THANK GOD THERE IS A NEW NOTIFICATION IN FACEBOOK!

Rock and Roll Out, Man.

Listening to a mix suggested by SPIN magazine, so you know the genres are all over the place, but no world music, ironically (so hip).

A rock song came on, and it was yelling at me. If I wanted to be yelled at, I'd go back to childhood (amiright, Michael Jackson?!). I don't want you to think that I don't like rock... I also don't want you to think my skin's bad either, but what can I do besides wear headphones and stay in my room?

I had a theory once, when I listened to Top 40, exclusively (I know), that people who liked sad music had pretty nice childhoods and that people who listened to Pop music grew up in foster care... I am pretty sure that people who like rock were molested my their priest.
Maybe these theories didn't hold true as I got older... I also got more friends (856 on Facebook), so my perspective is highly evolved. At least I just said something about molestation. Lots of kids out there, so people should really keep their eyes out... also their ears, if you hear rock- call the cops! I don't think they can do anything to sex offenders unless they actually find their fingers hidden in youth. Being caught "red-handed" never had so many hymen connotations.

So far, a pretty pedophilic post, but let's get back to music. It's great, ey? Sometimes I just sit and listen to it! I am sitting right now listening to it right now. Before I started writing this I was listening to it and even before that. The thing I like is that I am listening to it on my headphones in a shitty coffee shop that is playing Matchbox 20 and company. Every time one of my hip songs is over, in fades Staind, or the like. It just reminds me "hey, you could be stripping." Except I can't because I don't like the way I look hanging upside down naked. Society put that on me... makes me wonder how I am going to protect my children.

For now, I will protect them by not having them and then when I do- holding them real close for 23 years.

Jesus Christ Super Starbucks

I am sitting at a Starbucks in Glenwood Springs, CO... I left after I wrote that, now I am somewhere else. Pretty honest of me to tell you that. I could have said that I was still in Starbucks, on my 5th cup of mint tea and you wouldn't know the difference between that and a chai at Auto Zone (free wifi).

That is how you know you can trust me. I will tell you what inspired me to write a blog today and you will know I am being completely honest because of my last paragraph.

I was sitting across from a couple guys, they seemed outdoorsy and reasonable. However, they weren't. They were talking about Jesus and stuff... about wanting the bible taught in school. I don't think there is anything reasonable about loud Jesus talk.. why is over hearing a Christ convo like hearing about someone beating their dog?

It's not that Christians are bad, but it's that they all beat their pets. You know who is really good to their pets, Muslims (Sufi)! Yep, this is all probably a thorn in the hat of Jesus. He is, no doubt, rolling over on his cross, because he really loved his dog.
Jesus was like Paris Hilton in that sense... he was always carrying Sam Sam everywhere. Unlike Paris Hilton's dogs, Sam Sam was a pit bull, but super affectionate. Jesus chose to carry Sam Sam because Jesus was a strong man. He was so strong he died for your sins, but was indifferent to dying... "Let's just get this over with, so I can finish building stuff." That's what he was recorded saying on the cross, then he said "Sam Sam!"

The truth is, the only reason there is official proof (paintings) that Jesus cried on the cross was because he missed Sam Sam. It's ironic that all Christians ended up being so into animal cruelty. Maybe it's to do with the fact that Jesus loved his dog more than any of us.

I am more of a cat person, but I'm not religious.
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Thursday?! but it was just Wednesday 10 minutes ago!

This is me right now:



and the only reason I'm telling you this is because Bridget Jones: Edge Of Reason Failed to download properly... turning my Wednesday night of back to back Bridg-J (like Tahr-jhay) into a blog.

What? No, it isn't available to watch instantly on Netflix- I guess they want letter carriers to have a purpose other that delivering coupons and my post cards.

So I am here, kind of relieved BJ:EOR is unavailable (for the time being) because I don't want to stay up super late... sure, I ate two (small) bowls of ice cream a few hours ago and I am scared of getting hungry again, but we have to face our fears or we don't grow.

I'm not talking about my "waistline" growing (eeew!). I am talking about as an intelligent being- like Bridget Jones- she journals- JUST LIKE ME! and she is touted about the movie and hefty girl who weighs ____, JUST LIKE ME. I'm okay, but where is my Mark Darcy?!(even Hugh Grant would be alright)

He may be in Paris? Sure. I am moving there in March, but what would a relationship be like now that I have a computer? Probably a distraction... Look here's me in Paris:



Couldn't do that with some man in my bed. I think that I'm like Bridget, but better because I am totally comfortable with my... hmmm... hey! Look at that moose!

Abbey, you look like Fergie!

I don't consider myself a feminist. I don't like what it's become... a woman who insists on making herself unattractive and uptight about everything in the name of "feminism". The hollow shells of a stereo-type that are supposed to represent my empowerment.

Maybe I got off on a bit of a rant there. Sorry... let me put on some lipstick. better.


I make light of my gender, mostly because I don't identify with anybody anymore... wish I could be a turtle, really. However, nothing makes me feel more connected to both lips of the labia than reading Top 40 lyrics.



"That girl's too hot
Too hot she's too hot
Too hot for her top
Too hot she's too hot
Too hot for her shirt
Too hot for her skirt
Too hot for her clothes
Too hot for wardrobe

So go just take it off, take it off, take it off,
take it off, take it off, take it off,
just take it off, take it off, take it off,
take it off, take it off, (Lookie lookie lookie lookie)"



Parenthetical "lookie" to the third degree paired with "too hot for wardrobe" (clearly singular, like the cave men days) This is the Black Eyed Peas, a band that traded respect for costumes and Fergie. They are now educating a nation of young dummies.

It's not threatening- it's hilarious. The majority of this country is like "yeah, turn it up!" and girls are like "I'm hot if I take it off... if I take it off, it will be like Dad never left (or left my vagina alone)" and guys are all like "you don't respect yourself because your dad fucked you- I bet you are a crazy slut- hot!" and, guys also say: "have you heard the new Black Eyed Peas- It's awesome- suck on this dick, I dipped it in roofeeez!"

So, this is the world... most girls are molested (not me) and Clear Channel is really paving the way for some talent. I seriously hope that the popular music world changes- at least before I'm too old to suck a famous guy's dick. standards.

Murder Me Not

Seeing all these beautiful strangers on Facebook with their beautiful pictures helps me to see why people kill.
"When I see her, Audrey doesn't even acknowledge me, but I swear she's looking right at me in her pictures... she knows I love that blouse! I will MAKE her watch a movie with me!"



Sometimes, I think that people want to murder me, but I am too smart and slick. I use coconut oil on my skin so bad guys can't keep a grip and good guys can't get enough. I will tell you when the latter happens... thus far, it has only attracted young, Jimmy Buffet types. [insert "penis"colada pun]

Also, I'm too damn smart. Most murder victims are straight dummies.



Sometimes, I wish someone would just try and bring me bodily harm (rape joke) so I could go all Crouching Tiger and shit. I have never taken martial arts, but I am very intuitive and flexible.

Maybe I shouldn't say that I spend energy getting into imaginary fights with three big muthah fuckahs... and I really wont say that all the people who, I feel, have ever slighted me are there to witness it (ALL OF THEM). Brings up too many plot holes for my pragmatic mind (even my naughty fantasies are about catching my bus on time and not being bothered at all- bother just gets in the way [insert pic of vag and audio clip of dried leaves being crushed under the weight of a firm step]).

BACK TO GAPS IN PLOT:

What are they all doing there? Why am I wearing head-to-toe black latex? Am I married yet?

I am reasonable and so I will reason that:

a) they all follow my success and simultaneously came around to win favor.

b) I was at a photo shoot.

c) a lot.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. If you are a prospective employer, I encourage you to recognize that my tongue is so embedded in my cheek that I can't even talk anymore- just type... so send me any further questions via e mail.

Regards,
Abbey

Deer Poop

I am living in Carbondale, Colorado for the next few weeks. Carbondale actually stands for "deer poop"... things we didn't know- ey? And Carbodale is all over the ground out here! I think there is more Carbondale than grass.

Deer poop looks like this:



I have only been here a day and deer are already like homeless people to me. "Stop shitting on my side-walk, Joe!"

(Joe was a homeless fellow who shit on my block a lot in San Francisco.)

Joe's poop looked like this:



I don't really know what Joe's name was, and come to think of it, his poop really looked like this:



Alright. I guess it is nice that deer don't leer or smell violent... in fact, they are pretty pleasant- except for:



I guess it could be worse: