Had a long and slightly frustrating talk with my donor representative on the drive home from Nancy’s, dropped my stuff at home and fed the girl, took that makeup improv class (despite ending up in a group with three people from my 101 I wasn’t fond of the teacher or pretty much anyone else), went grocery shopping for me and then for the kitten, then returned to the house and cleaned a bit. Such excite.

I finished the last line, and saw below it “49,338 notes” and I thought to myself “Hm, I guess it was excite!”

And then I thought to myself “Wow, that’s a classic no-pants watergirl!”

I’m hitting up at least one open mic tonight. My first performance in Los Angeles.

I don’t think I’m gonna do it yet, but one stand-up bit that I’ve come up with in the past few months (pun intended) follows the logic that, if you like home-made porn, there’s a good chance that you’ve masturbated to a dead person by now. But you don’t see her as dead, so in a way, you’re remembering her in a more perfect way than even her own family. It’s kinda sentimental, but, y’know, I’m just a big softie. (The idea didn’t come from the picture above, I just found it last week and liked the feeling of seeing my joke happening in real life).

And then since I doubt anyone else will find the humor in something so dark and gross and real I pre-empted y’all’s response with the second image. I have a few friends who have deleted their Facebooks, and it’s always funny when I’m told that, actually, nobody cares about what I posted even though it looked like someone did. And on the rare occasions that multiple since-deleted friends engaged me in conversation, I look like a crazy person carrying on a looooong conversation with myself. (ALL I’M SAYING IS THAT IT’S RUDE MAGGIE AND ANGELA)