Weighed in this month and lost 6 more lbs! Which is good cause I’m losing one to two lbs a week instead of 10 a week when I was popping laxatives like candy or gaining 20 a week when I was popping candy like laxatives. You know what that's called folks! PROGRESS! Also means that I didn't jiggle as much during yesterday's earthquake although I still got the jiggles just now it's my tits and ass and not my stomach and rocky the squirrel underarm wings! That earthquake was bullshit, stood in front of a plate glass window in hopes it would take me because I LAUGH IN THE FACE OF DANGER! I DRINK SKIM MILK THAT'S PAST IT'S EXPIRATION DATE AND SCREAM MACBETH BACKSTAGE AT THEATERS! HA! YES! POWER ENGOURGES MY CLITORIATYY!!!!!! But seriously the earthquake felt in NY was pretty scary, mostly because it made me remember how long it's been since I’ve had an orgasm. (sigh) Last time I had sex was like in the beginning of June with a waiter from La Luncheonette named Dain or Cain or...god who even knows...i remember it rhymed with crippling pain. I was having dinner with my mom and my brother, which causes me extreme anxiety and desire to rebel so I drank 3 bottles of rosé and aggressively flirted with the waiter and left my number in the check envelope. Needless to say no orgasm. And I’m pretty orgasmic. Usually if I sit over the wheel on the bus I need a cigarette after. This asshole bruised my left boob and never called me again. Then I remember I texted him "you bruised my boob" thinking he'd be like "LOL sorry sexy" or "yeah something to remember me by, till next time" but nothing. That's alright...Just do me a favor people and next time you go to La Luncheonette on 10th avenue tip the tall cute ginger waiter with a sars envelope. That'd be great thanks.
But I’m proud of myself! Well not of that story, but of the 6 lbs! I've been working out doing a minimum of 40 minutes of cardio 6 days a week and have my big gumba trainer (that I can't afford) Frankie, or as I like to call him Frankie "Bag a Snack wells" kick my ass with weights and strength training. Plus counting calories and being conscious of what goes in my mouth, like instead of going to a restaurant and putting bread in my mouth I just put the waiter! ZING-OOO!
So that's going well. Also made a promise to myself that that's the last asshole I’m gonna fuck. Enough! I mean I am aware that I am amazing, extremely talented, hilarious, a fucking blast, and easy on the eyes (and easy) so why am I not dating the crème de la crème? I always said it's because there is no such thing as the crème de la crème. Men are just womanizing by nature and see me, and every woman like me, the kinda gal who enjoys a case of cutty sarks and a showtune as a conquest and use me and throw me away like a tissue cause that's just how it is in New York. Which is true for a lot of guys but it's a confidence thing. Knowing what I deserve. I suppose apart of me always thought I deserved to be tatty bruised and deleted from phones because I really don't love myself when push comes to shove. Even I think I’m a bit ridiculous as a whole, but know that I can't help it. I also realize that if I loved myself I’d be such a fucking snooze. UGH! Look at Harriet Loving Herself.. muah muah muah kissy kissy kissy! HEY HARRIET WHY DONTCHU JUST FUCKIN MARRY YOURSELF, FAG!” That’s gross. People who love themsleves should be blindfolded and shot as far as i'm concerned! There is no one I would like to hang out with less than someone who loves themselves! Ugh! Would I be a comedian even? A self-loathing, wailing, make a retard out of myself, comedian? Would I have done so many drugs and been in so many precarious situations and cried on the bathroom floor of CBGB's covered in rock star cum if I loved myself? Who would have those priceless stories? Just Drew Barrymore and Andy Dick? NO THANK YOU! I am regretless! But, it's time to grow up and take a shower (preferably golden...I mean SOAP! ...sorry old habits) and take charge. Taking charge of my life, heart, body and career. This past summer I have been so run down by the show business. Between the abortions of auditions and the string of shows that have no pay and no audience, after working the road and getting paid consistently almost every weekend for a full year has been a lot to handle. I have struggled a lot when I was a child/teenager/up until now and more struggle and rejection makes me really upset and brings the violent emotions of the past up again. I hate not knowing what the fuck is going to come of this shit. Losing my faith and passion for what I once loved along the way. You think I want to get up on stage in front of a bunch of comics and drunken trash who text and talk and slobber over nachos while I’m tap dancing like a fucking monkey every night for free!? Or walk in and have my fate determined by some 23 year old casting director bitch who hates actors more than I do with crest white strips and a stack of god awful scripts on her desk telling me to "go online and look for parts" GO ONLINE!? WHY AM I HERE YOU DISGUSTING HUMAN BEING! LET ME TRY! SEE ME! SEEEEE MEEEEEEE!!!!! It's such a horrible business and I would never let my child do this (once again blaming my parents for everything). It is why so many talented artists do heroin and kill themselves. This business is the business of enduring bullshit (usually in isolation because all you have is yourself and what you believe is talent) and enduring bullshit is painful! No wonder I ate so much fucking cake! But dealing with these emotions, with the help of very talented doctors, is all I can do to keep climbing and pushing and tearing through layers of bullshit to get to where I want to be. Sometimes I allow myself like a day to be a brat and kick and stomp my feet but then it’s all-star time. It may take a year it may take 4, or 5 but mark my words, little kiddies I will make a living croaking these ball yanking, cheese ball, vomit inducing jokes into a microphone! So haters beware and lovers prepare! But seriously…5 years is really all I have left in me though. If it's more than 5 years I’m marrying an 80-year-old millionaire and going down the Anna Nicole toilet. FLUSH! THANK YOU VERY MUCH AND GOODNIGHT!
