#Goals

This weekend I...

  • will write something longer than a tweet, but shorter than a novel
  • get more sleep
  • wash my face and put on moisturizer
  • not eat fast food (defined by: McDonald's, not late night happy hour bar food)
  • win the wing eating contest (or die trying) @ The Cheerful Tortoise 4th Annual Wing Eating Contest

This started as a list of goals and then just became a form of self promotion

Shocking

 

#fuckmeright

The pursuit of comedy is not like the pursuit of happiness.

Imagine the exact opposite.

#depression

Ok. So imagine what you perceive to be happy. Like what you see in the movies. That bullshit, right?

Suffocate that, slowly... and not in an (hot) autoerotique asphyxiation sort of way. Like, Wal*Mart belt that comes attached to your $12.95 sun dress. It's a failure waiting to happen.

#ifthatswhatyoureinto

Literally imagine everything that you care about falling apart, because you're self-sabotaging yourself. Just shit on everything, whether metaphorically or literally. Actually, literally. That's basically the equivalent.

Got it?

Actually though, I'm not doing that. I kinda got my shit together lately, got a grown up job and moved in with a great guy.

So... um... I have nothing to write about

#happinessblows

#daydrinking

I always feel that I need to be properly attired in one of two ways for such an occasion: fancy or garbage.

This probably stems from the years of theatre, and my obsession of costuming. Then again, I think it speaks to my commitment of method acting now playing the greatest role of my life... aspiring poor comedian.