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".
Showing posts with label fiction humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction humor. Show all posts
Monday, February 28, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
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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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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Friday, February 26, 2010
The Amazing Space
There is an amazing space in my pants where 200 extra lbs used to reside.
I'm always amazed to see grossly obese people eat in public. When I was 1,200 lbs, I ate alone in my hot tub/ deep fryer (hypothetically). It may seem like an easy target, fat people, but it isn't. I mean, physically, great target because it's hard to miss them, but comically- well, it's been done. I'm not being funny. I am serious. Watching fat people eat cake makes me want to run a flight of stairs and drink only water for the rest of my life.
I saw a girl, who was "Precious"-fat, trying to eat a muffin daintily. She was in a dress and clearly she was trying, but she was huge... like, "why even try?"-huge.
Am I evil for saying that? Sure, but I'm thin.
If I were in public eating a muffin with 200 extra lbs factoring into my decision making process, all bets are off- I would be mooing! I would acknowledge that I were already a spectacle and spare the irony of manners at a restaurant. I would oink all the way to my seat and fart non-stop. Farting is the olfactory equivalent of the optical assault that is: really fat people "enjoying" food. It's like a pedophile enjoying his grandson... he might play nice, because the parents are around, but he's pushing the swing with a throbbing erection tucked into his belt. You can just sense the dysfunction and it's beyond sad- it's hilarious (not the erection- the food thing)! It's so funny because that's why socialized health care is so hard to fathom: diabetes... probably the biggest medical expense in this country, but poor people somehow manage to put down carbs like baked goods were dogs at an animal shelter.
Oh- it was okay before I started with the dogs? I've always liked cats more, but I would eat a cat if it were a lean enough protein.
Which brings me to how I lost all that weight (did you think I would forget to tell you that made up story?). I grew up on a farm in Portland, OR. My mom kept sleeping with the barn animals, which led her to sign me over to the state of Oregon, where I became a ward of the court (then she could have more alone time with horses). Before she turned me loose on a revolving door of foster homes, she would starve me because we didn't have money for food and she needed her smokes. When she would get a check from her Tijuana circus shows, she would stock the kitchen full of processed magic. This happened twice a year and I would always eat until she caught me. She told me I would never be loved and chased me around calling me "Miss Piggy" until I agreed to pee on her face while she ate french toast. I felt conflicted about being told I couldn't be loved and being called swine- because pigs were her favorite lovers. I ended up eating my own feet one day when I was bored and found honey to dip them in. So that just added to calories I wouldn't burn exercising. It took two years, but I became super obese!
Eventually (8 weeks), I lost the weight with experimental drugs and crying. To this day, I can't see a crane without thinking: cement truck and I can't see one of those without thinking: cement. Life is strange. Big is Gross.
I'm always amazed to see grossly obese people eat in public. When I was 1,200 lbs, I ate alone in my hot tub/ deep fryer (hypothetically). It may seem like an easy target, fat people, but it isn't. I mean, physically, great target because it's hard to miss them, but comically- well, it's been done. I'm not being funny. I am serious. Watching fat people eat cake makes me want to run a flight of stairs and drink only water for the rest of my life.
I saw a girl, who was "Precious"-fat, trying to eat a muffin daintily. She was in a dress and clearly she was trying, but she was huge... like, "why even try?"-huge.
Am I evil for saying that? Sure, but I'm thin.
If I were in public eating a muffin with 200 extra lbs factoring into my decision making process, all bets are off- I would be mooing! I would acknowledge that I were already a spectacle and spare the irony of manners at a restaurant. I would oink all the way to my seat and fart non-stop. Farting is the olfactory equivalent of the optical assault that is: really fat people "enjoying" food. It's like a pedophile enjoying his grandson... he might play nice, because the parents are around, but he's pushing the swing with a throbbing erection tucked into his belt. You can just sense the dysfunction and it's beyond sad- it's hilarious (not the erection- the food thing)! It's so funny because that's why socialized health care is so hard to fathom: diabetes... probably the biggest medical expense in this country, but poor people somehow manage to put down carbs like baked goods were dogs at an animal shelter.
Oh- it was okay before I started with the dogs? I've always liked cats more, but I would eat a cat if it were a lean enough protein.
Which brings me to how I lost all that weight (did you think I would forget to tell you that made up story?). I grew up on a farm in Portland, OR. My mom kept sleeping with the barn animals, which led her to sign me over to the state of Oregon, where I became a ward of the court (then she could have more alone time with horses). Before she turned me loose on a revolving door of foster homes, she would starve me because we didn't have money for food and she needed her smokes. When she would get a check from her Tijuana circus shows, she would stock the kitchen full of processed magic. This happened twice a year and I would always eat until she caught me. She told me I would never be loved and chased me around calling me "Miss Piggy" until I agreed to pee on her face while she ate french toast. I felt conflicted about being told I couldn't be loved and being called swine- because pigs were her favorite lovers. I ended up eating my own feet one day when I was bored and found honey to dip them in. So that just added to calories I wouldn't burn exercising. It took two years, but I became super obese!
Eventually (8 weeks), I lost the weight with experimental drugs and crying. To this day, I can't see a crane without thinking: cement truck and I can't see one of those without thinking: cement. Life is strange. Big is Gross.
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