WHO GAVE DIRTY FLEAS?

It was me.

Dirty has been scratching himself all day. Now I know why I have all those blood blisters everywhere.

This is what lives on me:



I blame the dog run. And I'm really confused about number four in the flea's life cycle.

Reading Series At Balance

I'm starting a reading series at Balance to showcase my humorous essays and poetry.

Mostly, they are filthy pieces with titles like, "Can I Marry Your Baby?" or "At Least It's Not Cervical Cancer," or "M is for Melissa, A is for Abortion."

The first one will take place on July 28th from 3-5 at Balance Salon World Of Style, 18 Eerie Street, in Jersey City, of course. I will also have a guest reader, in case you hate me.

The only problem I'm having is deciding on a name for it. So far, this is what I've come up with:

Newark Avenue Bard
Bleeding Grounds
Wonder Awe
HomoNecrotic
Queen Leer
Sweet Face, Sour Puss
Serial Macist

I think that "Sweet Face, Sour Puss," is the funniest, plus it sounds like candy, but it also sounds really vaggie, like BlackHole, and too many people already think I'm a lesbian.

Poverty Diet: Lose Weight Cheaply

As many of you may know, a few months ago I quit my job at Sweet Priscilla's, where I was assistant manager and chef.

As many of you have seen, there's a lot of fat around that cafe. The basic recipe for everything was a pound of butter, a dozen eggs, a half pound of sugar, and some flour, and IT SHOWS.

In the year that I worked there, I gained 20 pounds.

In the two and a half months that I've been unemployed, I've lost it all because I am currently living below the poverty level and all I can afford to eat are onions.

But I can finally fit into pants my size again and go topless around the neighborhood.

But with all these changes, my right boob is looking wierd. It better get itself back into shape because I might have to, reluctantly, become a stripper.

I hate dancing and men with eyes!

$0.25

Currently, my paying-job is editing jokes for www.joke-of-the-day.com.

I DO NOT WRITE THE JOKES. I DO NOT WRITE THE JOKES. I DO NOT WRITE THE JOKES.

I edit them according to the style guide.

However, I DO write the captions for the images. I am only mildly embarassed by these, and you can look at them if you want.

My user name is The Idiot.

Oh, and this is the funniest joke I've edited all week:

18 Inches
Q: What's 18 inches and makes a woman scream all night long?
A: Crib Death.

Yankee Doodle Dandy

Happy Fourth Of July, FAGS.

Kill My "Friends"

Last night, I went to the Corkscrew for Billy's Open Mic.

Basically, the open mic at the Corkscrew is a bunch of hot dudes sitting around drinking and whenever you want to go up, you can, and I was the only girl there. The best part about it is that there's no poetry, and I was the only girl there. And the alcohol is cheap.

At first, I was concerned that the guys there would start calling me a man hater and stone me, as is my experience in the Heights (Abe). As you know from a previous post, the Heights are not very progressive, and they are 1995 at best.

Since my job hasn't paid me in three weeks, I had only $10 on me, so I couldn't afford a cab home, and my stupid "friends" never showed up, so I was stranded in the Heights. Luckily, Billy lives downtown and was kind enough to let me get in his cab. Thanks, Billy.

Being stranded, I was tempted to call Abe, as I have done in the past at the Corkscrew, because it's by his house, but I am still overwhelmed by hatred, and if I were to talk to him, it would probably just be hysterical shrieking.

From now on, all of my friends are going to be dildos. They'll always give me a ride downtown.

Comedy So Far

Since I started doing comedy on stage about a year and a half ago, these things have happened to me:

-I've received hatemail, both emailed and handwritten.

-I was fired from my job because of the hate mail delivered there.

-I was attacked on stage by this ghetto chick who tried to rip out my nose ring.

-The police have closed my show, BlackHole, down early due to noise complaints at 11:00 pm.

-The police tried to shut the show down indefinitely and ticket me for not having an entertainment license (it would have been $1000).

-Because of my calendar, every pervert in the neighborhood thinks he can talk to me on the street about my personality.

-I can't find a day job to fit my schedule so right now I'm a freelance joke editor for Humor Lab and I make $10 a day, so I can't afford train fare to go out.

-I think Verizon shut my phone off today, which doesn't irk me too much, because I think that the police were bugging it anyway.

-I drink almost as much as I did when I was 16.

Comedy has given me the gift of poverty and local notoriety.

But still, after all of this, I had not learned much about comedy or life until last Wednesday, at BlackHole, where I finally learned that I am a much better performer when I don't wear pants.