Incompetence

I've been doing a lot of things that I am traditionally really bad at. Things I have been bad at since I was 8. Being bad at these pursuits is part of the fiber of my persona. I really like doing these things by myself. I am fine with being horrible at things if no one is watching me be horrible at them. I am more than fine, I enjoy doing these things, despite doing them so poorly. I'm not telling you what they are because they're my own little secret pursuits. It's relaxing doing things you're bad at because then you really have to concentrate to do them. Whereas the stuff I do well I could do in my sleep, so I have a lot of brain-space left to make detailed plans for my future and get my heart fluttering about how I will possibly have the time and money to INEVITABLY GET OLDER.

The Ex-Comedienne

If you haven't noticed, I'm not doing standup anymore. For a couple months I was telling people I was on a break. Actually, I feel pretty sure I won't be going back to doing standup.

A few events spelled the end of my standup career. My trip to New York, where it became clear the nihilism that passes for joke telling goes all the way up the comedy ladder. My week at Zanie's, which was the hardest 300 dollars I ever earned. And that article and everyone's reactions to the article. If you don't know what I'm talking about, wonderful, let's get closer as people. Suffice to say I failed to control my media narrative. Then I found out exactly what people thought of me. And that killed my desire to have pictures of myself in magazines.

The time I liked standup were when I felt like I was surprising people. Sometimes it was my persona, sometimes it was the jokes, sometimes I thought it was the honesty. Honesty was the really tricky part. You can't be honest with a standup routine. Sure, the first time you tell a joke that joke can be about what's going on with at this exact moment. But then you just told a joke about it, and that changes what's going on with you, and when you repeat that joke now you're acting like you're still going through the same shit you were when you wrote the joke. Repeating jokes is the task of a standup. That's the whole job. Get up onstage, tell the jokes the club owner expects you to tell. Even if you are the most unexpected, alternative, mind-fucking rebel of a comic that is the way you earn your money. Even if your thing is reading "The Great Gatsby" all the way through- just know when you get booked at the Chucklehut you are going to have to read "The Great Gatsby" 8 times that week.

Also, if you're going to be a comic you should be very interested in making people laugh. And I just got to a place where I really resented the audiences. If they didn't laugh I straight up hated those horrible people, and if they did laugh I wasn't that impressed. It was like, "Of course you laughed at that joke, everyone laughs at that joke. How obvious of you."

I've gone back to some open mics since I came back from the election, and it isn't fun for me anymore.

So after doing it for two years, I come away from that little endeavor a lot more uptight, and maybe a little more hateful. No, the second part is a joke. I am actually extremely uptight now. And I give non-uptight people withering looks.

Those were my problems of a couple months ago, but here's my problem now- standup was so good at getting me to write. Having to perform was a great fire under my ass.

And what do I do with this blog? This blog got me in a lot of trouble this summer, and now I'm all touchy about what I write here. But writing a blog entry a day was another great jumpstart for my writing.

I'm just saying I don't know what's next. It's not a crisis. It's just something I don't know.

Psychic Music Predictions

Carrie Brownstein, at her blog Monitor Mix, hired a psychic to make music predictions.


I can't wait to hear what Kanye West has to say in May. For the record, horoscopes are the only part of the newspaper I completely believe.

My jacked arms.

Yeah, my arms are going to be scary and huge and veiny by spring. Just wait. Then I'll get a barbed wire tattoo and start wearing shiny short sleeved mock turtlenecks. They will be so JACKED.

I ran for 13 minutes straight today. And in Carrie-land, that is an accomplishment of the highest order. I do an 11 and a half minute mile, if you were wondering. As of now. But again, by the spring, I'll be doing a 1:38 mile. Either a minute and thirty eight seconds or an hour and thirty eight minutes, depending on what the notation for time is supposed to be.

So my legs are hurting right now.

Now, I'm doing the exercise bike and running for my legs, and doing weights for my future huge arms, and that leaves my middle out. But I feel vain and silly doing situps or crunches. When I was in middle school me and my friends used to do 50 crunches every day. And it was a vanity thing, not an athletic thing, because I was an out of control non-athlete. I couldn't do a damn thing. I couldn't run a block with my bookbag on.

Crunches are so girly. You're never going to rescue someone from a fire based on your stomach muscles. I just think doing a crunch will broadcast to the gym, "I wanna be bikini ready! I'm eating diet yogurt after this!"

But no, I bet firemen have to do lots of situps and crunches, so stomach muscles must be real important.

I like the way I look better when I'm exercising, but I want to act like I'm exercising for a better reason than that. Like this is all about mood management. But jacked up arms do not stave off winter depression.

Also, crunches are fart producers. Maybe if everyone has earphones in I'll do some crunches.

If we go out on a date..

..you should be prepared to have your collarbone broken. I'm not saying it will definitely happen, but it may happen. Can you arrange your life around a broken collarbone for 2 months? If not, maybe we should just be friends.

Y

I joined the Y today. It took me all week to finally come around the joining the Y. Because I am very, very poor right now, and paying to exercise is so first world of me. But I am going straight nutso being in my car all day. And my ass hurts me.

I have become a nutso driver very quickly. I've joined the u-turn culture that dominates this city. Also, my car has become a trashpit very quickly.

I haven't gotten the sustainable lifestyle part down yet. My clothes have been in a pile since before the election, and there are still pants I haven't found.

Things that need to happen:
- need to buy a dresser and put my clothes in it
- need to put plastic on the windows in the apartment
- need to pay my bills
- need to return many emails

I can do all these things. I can do all these things soon. I can turn my life around. All it takes is some determination.

Argh.

Newsflash: Paying Employees, Paying back Taxpayers, still not Optional

Why did we give Bank of America 25 billion a couple weeks back? Instead of using it to send people to college, or rebuild New Orleans, or buying everyone a nice reliable car?

Because some people thought if we gave Bank of America 25 billion they would keep giving loans out, and making sure businesses could borrow money would do more for the economy than spending on education, or on infrastructure and housing, or giving car companies some business.

But it turns out Bank of America, even with an extra 25 billion, doesn't want to loan American businesses money to fulfill their legal obligations, like say, vacation and severance pay. Bank of America doesn't want that little gift from taxpayers to go into paychecks for taxpayers.

But I say when BOA accepted that money, refusing to loan businesses money to pay their debts to their workers is an option that disappeared. BOA does have to account for what it did for us with that money. Even if the politicians who constructed this arrangement left accountability out of the plan, BOA still has to answer to us. And we're going to be working to pay off that 700 billion bailout for, well, as long as I'm alive, so I'm not inclined to let this debt slide. Channel your anger here.

In the Kitchen

Hm, hummus. What a great thing to do with that bag of dried chick peas in the cupboard! You know how to make hummus. You've done it twice already. It's cheap and delicious!

Soak the beans overnight. Then forget about them and leave them over night again. Then remember them before you leave for the thanksgiving holiday. Drain them and put them in the fridge.

Remember them three days after you come back. In the afternoon, on your lunch break, come home and put three cups of the chick peas in the blender. Look around wildly for the olive oil. Sub canola oil. Look around wildly for the lemon juice. Sub the juice of one very hard lime that has been sitting on the counter for awhile.

Blend. Blend again. Blend again. Blend one more time. Wonder why the mixture is gritty.

Come home. Blend again. Blend. Find the olive oil. Try to blend a smaller batch. Realize that although the chick peas were soaked, they were never cooked. Put attempt at hummus on the stove top. Add 4 cups of water. Leave the room. Burn mixture. Fill the kitchen with smoke.

Flush down toilet. Soak pot overnight.

I will end up buying this album



I love Kanye's arrogance. I love it more than I can stand. I wish everyone were that arrogant. I wish my mail carrier would announce to me, "I'm the greatest mail carrier that ever was." I would be like, hell yeah you are. I'm lucky to get my mail from you.

Because if Kanye didn't trust himself like that, would he make an album full of him singing when he can't sing? Just auto-tune it up, and it sounds better than if an actual singer did the song. Not live, but whatever.