You know sometimes I'm pissy and I don't care to tell jokes
Today I road in a car with my acquaintance Jack. (Not my boyfriend Jack but my buddy Jack Kukoda, who is a pretty good writer.) He told me I should put the following sentiment in my act. I didn't have time to explain I don't have an act. I just have jokes I tell in random order. But here's our conversation:
That King of Queens guy is a fat fuck and he's married to this hot chick on the show. No one finds that weird. But if it were reversed and she were hideous and he were gorgeous no one would buy it. No one would believe for a second that this hot guy would date this ugly woman.
Jack responded, "Yeah it's true you see women dating men not as attractive--"
Yeah and they don't even have to be successful they just have to be.
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Here's something I shouldn't post:
I admitted to a comedic acquaintance (note I have no friends but my boyfriend Jack and my best friend Anna) Tuesday night that my daydreams consist of people accusing me of things. My days are filled with visions of me on trial, me being accosted, me being falsely accused of social misdeeds, and me being accurately accused of social trespasses. I spend most of my hours in my own mind defending myself against imagined attacks.
I also spend time in reality with all of you refuting your claims that I am insane. But maybe I am if my imaginary life is out to get me.
Before performing on Tuesday I convinced myself that I would be heckled visciously and then I'd have to take my fist and put it through someone's skull. I also planned on fibbing to my heckler and telling them I would kill them. I'd prove the seriousness of my threat by telling them the reason I left Portland was because I had beaten someone until they were unconsious. After spending a few months in county lock-up I left town because the incident left me ostrocized from the comedic community. And when the heckling bitch in my head still didn't stop harassing me I was forced to come off stage and beat her and I was the one who was crying, but I beat her and beat her good.
When I arrived to Otto's Shrunken Head on Tuesday, I performed for small, polite audience. The comics in attendence were all civil to me. I don't know if I'm crazy but I know I'm definitely not psychic.
That King of Queens guy is a fat fuck and he's married to this hot chick on the show. No one finds that weird. But if it were reversed and she were hideous and he were gorgeous no one would buy it. No one would believe for a second that this hot guy would date this ugly woman.
Jack responded, "Yeah it's true you see women dating men not as attractive--"
Yeah and they don't even have to be successful they just have to be.
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Here's something I shouldn't post:
I admitted to a comedic acquaintance (note I have no friends but my boyfriend Jack and my best friend Anna) Tuesday night that my daydreams consist of people accusing me of things. My days are filled with visions of me on trial, me being accosted, me being falsely accused of social misdeeds, and me being accurately accused of social trespasses. I spend most of my hours in my own mind defending myself against imagined attacks.
I also spend time in reality with all of you refuting your claims that I am insane. But maybe I am if my imaginary life is out to get me.
Before performing on Tuesday I convinced myself that I would be heckled visciously and then I'd have to take my fist and put it through someone's skull. I also planned on fibbing to my heckler and telling them I would kill them. I'd prove the seriousness of my threat by telling them the reason I left Portland was because I had beaten someone until they were unconsious. After spending a few months in county lock-up I left town because the incident left me ostrocized from the comedic community. And when the heckling bitch in my head still didn't stop harassing me I was forced to come off stage and beat her and I was the one who was crying, but I beat her and beat her good.
When I arrived to Otto's Shrunken Head on Tuesday, I performed for small, polite audience. The comics in attendence were all civil to me. I don't know if I'm crazy but I know I'm definitely not psychic.
Comments
And the problem is...?