THE HALLOWAY HALLOWEEN BLUES (AND BBQ JOINT)

Depression has a way of making you fuck up your diet. Needed to take a week and cry and eat my brains out. I ended a friendship that meant a lot to me and feeling super sad and conflicted about it. It's amazing how a girl with so few real relationships can press delete so quickly. But sometimes you have to in order to move forward and be happy in the end. You can't walk right into danger where you'll probably get your heart hurt when you feel it coming you got to cut your losses and run the other way. Maybe if Nathalie Holloway followed that advice she wouldn't have had such a lame ass date on that boat. So yeah, watching 90's chick flicks and sitcoms, listening to 90's alt rock, (dressing and smelling like Kurt Kobain, eating like Ann Wilson) and writing 2000's alt comedian tweets. Went for like 4 days without showering only getting out of bed to do 10 minute sets at little bar shows and then crawled back into my bed full of take out containers and ketchup packets and watching Boys On The Side or a Frasier marathon. (Is there any problem that the hijinks of the pretentious Seattle highbrow therapist brothers and their kooky menagerie of sidekicks can't fix?) Oh, to be a tormented genius like I! I'm not at the stage where killing myself would make me more famous yet so I got to hold off on the trip to the roof and keep it pushin! I refuse to weigh myself but I think I gained something close to 10 pounds. Totally eating my feelings and ruining all my hard work but you know what sometimes you just need the comfort that only Hunan Palace can give. It's ok i'm back to the gym now and I got it under control [top panty hose.] 

BOO FUCKING HOO people! Halloween, or as I like to call it Gay Pride with a different kind of candy, passed me by completely. I had big plans of dressing up cause of my new sexy body I was going to be "slutty something" but I dress up as "slutty something" and boo people everyday! Big whoop! I hate Halloween it's like amateur night. If I wanted to see a bunch of bros and skanks dressed like idiots getting shit faced and thinking they're ironic and hilarious I’d just go to the green room of any comedy club! (Making friends!!!!) If I was going to dress up I was going to be Beyonce with a miscarriage, like in a gold sequined leotard with a fan on me at all times with blood and slime dripping down my fishnets (booooo) but that idea came to me before the video of her fake baby bump leaked so then I was just thinking of stuffing a folded lawn chair in a dress and calling it a costume but eh...too much energy and no where to go. Past Halloween’s I’ve done good but I was always working. There was the year when I was a go-go dancer and I was Marilyn Monroe's partially decomposed corpse! I was completely buck naked (umm…cause she died in the nude clutching a telephone. I'm nothing if i'm not authentic!) and painted grayish blue with pills and pill bottles and maggots stuck to me, roaches and worms and crawling through my wig and decomposing flesh at the hip and the neck with an old fashioned telephone...it was pretty awesome. (If I had waited for last week, lying in bed for 5 days sobbing I wouldn't have needed the costume at all and i wouldn't have had to spend 2 days scrubbing blue paint off my snatch.) Then there was the year that I was a playboy bunny with her throat slit (because don't you just want to slit their fucking throats?) and then one year I was Peg Bundy which was pretty good and Josephine Baker where I was completely in black face naked again my entire body dipped in coco brown makeup with a banana skirt and tribal beads (ummm...josephine baker was always naked and she happened to be black. Authentic!) no one recognized me that year! I looked like lil Kim on horse vitamins! No black people were offended in the making of that costume, all I got were high fives and ignored by cab drivers. Don't be a pussy and be a slutty fireman or slutty bumble bee ladies, ditch the costume and just throw on suspenders and be a naked fireman or shove a stinger up your ass and be a naked bumble bee it's WAY more fun! What's the point of the extra fabric, you're leaving nothing to the imagination anyway! But I’m a respectable out of work actress and comedian now! I must stay in bbq stained sweats and feel sorry for myself on the holidays! SCRUPLES!  

But like always, after my little temper tantrum and melt down I shifted. I decided to stop focusing on the lack of things in my life and began to focus on what I do have. A decent apartment for nyc standards, a couple of nutcase parents, 25 dollars in my checking account, LOADS of talent (It’s the loads in my face that I miss,) and an energy and presence that is like no one else’s. God put me here to do something and it's remarkable as soon as I made that click in my brain I booked a shit ton of shows and got two really big legitimate auditions this week! And instead of saying "I’m not going to get the part" or "I HAVE to get this part" like I usually do I’m going to say "I got the audition and it's going to be fun!" and just enjoy performing and spreading joy in my little way. You know as much as I hate human kind, I gotta admit we are all pretty awesome and the struggle, in my case has made for some very funny material. OPRAH FOR PRESIDENT! 

Can Sluts Find Love?

Rough week. I went out on Monday night and got hammered with some friends and bumped into this guy I boned when I was 18 outside the bar when I was smoking. (As one does on a Monday night…out of work comedian) He's absolutely beautiful, amazing bod, pillow lips, a dick that just won't quit but the dude is psychotic of course. Of course something so beautiful has to be so crazy and poor. Like Charles Manson…or Africa. I don't ever go for rich guys, usually I just go for ones who pay me the slightest bit of attention and that I feel deep connections with (in my cervix.) There’s something to be said for poor guys. If rich guys could fuck as good as poor one’s…I’d have a nickel. They make me feel like a big-breasted Italian peasant girl making love in a vat of grapes or something (careful, that batch of Chianti might have hepatitis.) I would love a rich husband and hope I can find one one day. I've already kind of resigned myself to living a loveless existence based on my track record, so I might as well live in a 18 bedroom mansion and ride private jets to my manicure appointments and enjoy a pill habit and plastic surgeons. Anyway, This dude used to stalk me. Used to make presents out of garbage and leave them at my door. He used to wait for me outside my work. He used to call me baby Monroe because I reminded him of a young modern version of Marilyn which was actually a nice compliment even though she was a bi polar mess, but I’ll take it. He made me a lamp out of paper mache once which was a pink triangle with the words baby Monroe written on it. I thought it was ridiculous, baby Monroe written on the Nazi symbol for homo? What ever happened to jewelry! Anyway somehow, I don't remember how, I got rid of him and moved on. Then 2 years ago I saw him again in a bar waiting in line for the bathroom. He grabbed me put his arms around my waist and pulled me into his throbbing manhood, planted a big wet kiss on me and said I’m never letting you go EVER! I was with my girlfriend and while he was in the bathroom we grabbed our coats and high tailed it out of there and ditched him. So cut to this past Monday I’m outside smoking and I see him, he looked GOOD. Tall, tanned, lazy and full of cum. Once again he wrapped his arms around me picked me up swung me around kissed me and told me he was "never letting me go again, I can't believe I'm seeing you! Do you understand bro" never trust a man who calls you bro, "we were meant to be together! The planets and stars are aligning! You don't bump into a person like this you are MINE and I am NEVER LETTING YOU GO!" I mean this is Manhattan, I see Pauly Shore twice a year on line for the bathroom! Not a big island! But I gotta be honest, I have been feeling exceedingly lonely lately and here is this man who is spinning me around and snuggling his head in my chest and holding me tight and professing his undying love for me just when I need it the most! I'd be lying if I told you the thought of accepting this man's proposal for an instant relationship didn't cross my mind. Then the night progresses, my gut is telling me this guy is psycho, remembering how he used to stalk and scare me and my friends left me to go do drugs and yank penises at another bar after I told them not to leave me alone with him. These are my friends. I really don't have any real ones. I guess I don't really know much about real relationships of any sort because I’ve had very few that haven't been completely superficial or drug induced, so the good news is that I don't ever really have expectations of people to take care of me, even though I always take care of them. I still almost always get hurt but heal fast. Anyway, long story short (too late) this lunatic drags me out of the bar drags me 3 blocks away tries to get me to take him home with me (oh he's homeless now by the way, "couch surfing" ...yeah) I told him there is no way I am letting him know where I live. He basically is attacking me on the street and not releasing me from his grip, right now I’m covered in bruises and scrapes, he broke TWO OF MY NAILS! (You can attack me but break my nails and it is ON!) no one helped me on the street I was screaming and crying and finally got myself into a cab and sped off. Yes! Welcome to Harriet's NYC! I'm sure you are all thinking, "but Harriet...you're so freakishly gigantic! How could it ever get physical?" Listen i may be big but i'm as weak as a cup of chamomile tea! Don't let the height fool you! I'm a kitten in a rottweiler costume! Anyway, this was a very intense start to a very intense week. 

I'm not sure if I am able to get what it is I’m looking for or yearning for even if it seems to be dangling right in front of my face. Nothing is real! Obviously I’m too honest, I have been through enough shit that it scares "normal good men" away from me. I have slept with a lot of men. I have sex like a man, I am Samantha Jones. It sounds retarded but it's true. And what makes a slut? Religious oppression (no) Liquor (sure) Lack of boundaries (ok) Rape, molestation (ummm....like mama used to say, it’s not rape if he yells “surprise!” …oh calm down!). Whatever is the recipe, I really don't think of myself as a slut. In my circle of friends I’m a prude! Listen I have an appetite for men like most men have an appetite for women. I can't help it. They stir me! They're fucking beautiful! Why wouldn't someone want to devour them like pastries! YUM! If that makes me a slut then so be it, I think it's just a genuine and healthy way of living (if you use rubbers…oh you thought I meant condoms? No galoshes silly! condoms feel like shit!) You do what you want and act on instinct and fuck what people say. The thing is you are left alone. How can you do what you want, act on instinct, follow your heart and get all the love you pour into someone else, even if it's for that one night, back? Not from stalkers or fans or people who are light stealers? And ay, there’s the rub. Still navigating but with all my baggage and past and the fact that I am vocal about most of it, it seems that no one really can deal. It's always the mousy boring bitches that have the man, the protector. Well not always, there is Snooki. Snooki found love. If that midori sour soaked cum dumpster can find steady snake then I certainly can. So there you have it, I’m comparing myself to an orange turd. This is what my life’s come too! See why I HAVE to be famous? It's not like a choice really, it just has to happen! What other road is there? I’m gonna be happy. I make what most people would consider to be stupid decisions but they are my decisions and if I have to go through them by myself then that is just what I’m gonna do! I’m fine with that and know that I’m smart and wonderful enough and fuck everybody else (well I already did that!) You only get one life and I gotta live it the way I know how. Trick is I got to not let the past steal my present or navigate my demise! Shit that’s happened has NOTHING to do with what is going to happen! Don’t let the shaky hands and mascara dripping down my face fool you, I am NOT a mess! WHO WANTS A MIDORI SOUR!

Befores and Afters: The Life and Times

Again a huge thank you to everyone who came out to support my show on Monday and a GIANT FUCK YOU TO ALL OF YOU WHO SAID YOU WERE COMING AND DIDN'T. GOD I HATE PROMOTING! JESUS FUCK! Just so I can guarantee myself an extra goddamned spot every month I have to whore myself to my friends and family exhaust my little fan base! I know it's tough to come out and support but don't say you will when you won't! Because that makes you a no good liar and you deserve to be blindfolded and shot like a colombian cocaine farmer who talks to much in Medellin ! Ok I feel better now that I’ve gotten that off my chest. Promoting is so lame and so anxiety producing and I’m sick! Not sure if it's psychosomatic but I feel like shit because I do things that make me feel like shit and doing things period makes me feel like shit because I’m a lazy shit so all I want to do is sit alone in my dark shitty hole (i should've said bedroom) and feel like shit by myself! Shit! So I drank some cough syrup and watched First Wives Club for probably the four thousandth time and feeling a little less like shit. 

But things are picking up, kids! Calendar is filling up nicely (more unpaid work! awesome! I LOVE comedy!) and auditions auditions auditions (more close but no cigars.) One of these is going to hit I swear and with my positive winning attitude I’m sure it will (sorry it's hard to type and slit my wrists at the same time!) 

Weight is kind of in a precarious place right now. I've been spending a lot of time alone again and being sick and feeling like shit (which we've established) physically so I haven't really been working out which lead to binging for the past two weeks. Well not bingeing....but eating gigantic portions of food that I shouldn't be eating...that sounds better. What's the goddamned difference, I think to myself, as my leg hair gets longer and courser and I wake up next to chicken carcasses. I have nothing and no one! But then I looked at a picture of me from a while back and remembered how fucking disgusting I was and felt and am happy to be smaller. You see when your born gigantic like I, the lighter you weigh the more "petite" is achievable or whatever is close to it. My shoulders are smaller and more delicate, my waist is tinier, I look like I can actually be lifted by a normal sized man instead of being mistaken for one. So that kind of scared me into putting down the fork (and by fork I mean fist full of mashed potatoes like a down syndrome toddler.) I'm doing well and on the right path so why do I always fall back into my bullshit patterns? Because I’m impatient and bored and a spoiled glutton. Like Louie VI but with bigger tits and less money. My shrink and I are working on "clearing out anger" so that the positive can manifest. She said I’ve already summoned what I want to the universe (fame and an 8 inch dick with a job...that's really it for me in the fulfillment department!) I just need to clear out my inner crap in order to receive it. Like a psychological colonic! I'm going to try by spitting hateful blogs, yelling at hecklers, working out and paying attention to my anger triggers...such as rejection, criticism, beautiful Asian women, other people’s successes... And then I’ll be famous and regularly fucked with a diamond on my finger in no time! THE SECRET! 

This was the fatty pic i was talking about. Not my heaviest but shit! Look at bob Greenberg in the Maroon is hungry for it!
But now slimmer at gotham.

Or the famous bathing suit pics! Remember these?? Before and after fuckers! I gotta keep this shit up! BAM! Go ahead click on them to make them larger. I ain't shy! And yes, i have monogramed towels :)

 

Till next week little ones! XOXO

Wendy Williams Must Die

Well it's been a helluva couple weeks. Humbling, annoying, and embarrassing. First of all, months ago, I was asked to present at the Paper Magazine Nightlife Awards! Yes where the "who’s who of who cares" gather annually to celebrate bacchanalia and what’s left of NYC’s dwindling “nightlife.” I have been featured in the past in paper magazine a few times as “A star on the rise” (nothing rising that quickly) and shit like that and they have been very kind fans of mine and I was totally excited to pretend I was presenting at the Oscars for one night. I had a dress made, I got a spray tan, I had homo come over to my home to do my hair, I had the shoes the jewels the bag the fur the whole 9. While I was in my Julia Roberts tizzy I got a phone call hours before the event started by the people at paper saying "sorry total oversight but there was a problem and we forgot to put you on the list of presenters but feel free to come and walk the red carpet and enjoy the event and we'll find somewhere for you to sit and enjoy the awards." There I am, covered in teriyaki tanning sauce, dipped in makeup like a chicken in flour and getting sewn into my skin tight dress now ready to rip it off pull down the blinds and eat chicken teriyaki in my sweatpants. So I threw a stink, said I had a dress made, I was all excited yada yada yada so they said basically, if a "somebody" doesn't show up, we'll have room for you "a nobody" to present. Wendy Williams was hosting and I met her and she said “GIRL THAT IS A DRESS AFTER MY OWN HEART!” and I said “HOW YER DERN WENDY! Will you take a picture with me?” and she said, I kid you not “mmmmm yeah, no thanks I’m good!” Which was pretty awesome getting rejected by the black version of me (check that off the list) Anyway, I ended up presenting with Paul Iacono, the actor from that show “The Hard Times of RJ Berger” and I did it and I knocked it out of the fucking park and was hilarious, obviously because I’m amazing which is what no body seems to realize (TOOOOT TOOOT!) Regardless of the initial humiliation and rejection of the evening, it was really nice to throw on a pretty dress (throw on! look at me, aren't I cute? get pulled and pinned into like chestnut stuffing in a Christmas goose...yeah I’m going with goose! I'm feeling Dickens-y today!) and get my picture taken and feel glamorous again. I used to be the party girl about town, trotting around in baby doe heels and wiggle dresses every night of the week, soaking up moonlight, snorting pretty things out of pretty things with pretty people, I had cocktails named after me (The Harriet Star: 1 part Vanilla Vodka, 3 parts champagne and 1 part bartender urine) I'd get pinched by rascally French men and raped in coat check closets (it's not rape if he yells "SUPRISE!") Now I’m typically in sweatpants eating 100-calorie snack packets or my "stand up comedy uniform" (head to toe exhilaration by target) and doing my thing. A quieter life, like a Quaker...if the Quaker was a huge slut who loves tequila and talks about camel toe on stage for free.

In other news! I went out with this guy (read last entry WHAT A DIFFERENCE A TAINT MAKES) if you didn't read it (I ain't mad) the short of it is that I picked him up at a bar and had a very fun weekend. Let's just say the Christmas goose wasn’t the only thing stuffed in this blog! The dude had such a wonderful time (not to toot my own cunt but I’m REALLY FUN in the sack, TOOOOOT…#notaqueef) he wanted to see me again but this time take me on a "proper date." So I said, ok. I had an 8pm show at Gotham, I’d be done around 9/9:30 ish and I’m gonna be hungry (All that audience murder really works up an appetite...TOOOT TOOOT) so let's get food and hang out. So he was supposed to pick me up, he was 2 hours late, it was pouring rain I told him to go fuck himself and I went home defeated after a perfectly good high from a good set at Gotham. Of course, I’m thinking to myself, why would anything go right for me with any man. I mean look at my track record...which is just a bunch a bukake. So I get a text while I’m slumped over heating up a bullshit 200-calorie lean cuisine. Then he's downstairs and wants to make it up to me. I agree, he takes me to a bistro across the street from my apartment and we wine and dine and I forgive him because I have low self esteem and I love wine and then the check comes and his face DROPS! The waiter comes back, his card got fucking declined so I had to pay for the whole thing! And then, get this! I FUCKED HIM ANYWAY! I figured, what's the difference I did it before and the least I can get out of this disaster of a night is some head! And I just can't resist a man...it's a sickness. They're just so beautiful with their shoulders and their arms and their smell and their mouths and their skin and their hair...GRRRRR. I know I’m vile! I cannot be stopped! I'm not sure if I am going to get into a relationship any time soon but I can tell you one thing, I am aware that this is not the way to go about it. I need to retrain myself to not jump on the first thing with pants that gives me attention! That's how I ended up waking up that time with KD Lang's toe in my mouth! I do want a relationship. I want to give my love to somebody really bad, I also want my big break so I can do my thing and get paid and get more attention from people wearing pants! It will all come. Right now everything is just out of arms reach. The things I want are dangling in front of me but I can't quite have them yet but I will soon. I hope. I think so. I have so much goddamned love to share and when I’m in that place of sharing love I’m at my happiest and beam light and that's where I want to stay. :)

So we continue little kiddies! 

Please come to my show on Monday! I really need you there to SHARE MY LOVE WITH! 

What a Difference A Taint Makes

Finally my body is where I want it to be again. I've got issues still. Nothing ever is perfect but that's life. I feel like I’m TV ready which is nice. I've had some really awesome shows lately, which have gotten the old confidence back! Nothing like getting steady comedy club laughs after a string of bombing at bar shows with 4 audience members who half pay attention. But no show is perfect! Recently I had a show at Gotham comedy club, which I was taping because I need more tapes to send out to networks and late night shows to facilitate my pursuit of being some sort of comedy legend one day and something always goes wrong when I try to film a tape. Either someone’s phone rings, a waitress stands right in front of the camera, the sound is off, my heads chopped off…SOMETHING!  So this show was pretty crazy because every other comic had a good set with the respect of the audience but of course as soon as I got up there, hoping for a good tape, a table starts talking during my set very loudly. Just having full on conversation! I don't know what it was about me that night that made them think they could fuck with me, maybe I was looking particularly petite and meek and white (which in normal circumstances would be a fantasy come true.) So I asked them in the middle of my set: "Alright, hold up excuse me but are you guys paying the bill or something or are you just being rude?" to which they replied "no we're just being rude!" That's when I blew like an adolescent on a penthouse magazine! I just started going off, seeing green like the incredible hulk! I didn’t even remember what I said because I was so overcome by the rage and blood coursing through me but it was HILARIOUS to everybody including said disrespectful table. I do remember one of the girls volunteered that she was Asian (I couldn’t see beyond the blinding stage lights) which, for anybody who has seen my act or knows me added fuel to the fire (I have a deep hatred of tiny Asian girls with tiny pussies who have hot white boyfriends, call me racist I really don't give a fuck it just pushes my buttons) anyway I lost it on her but she and her twenty something douche bag friends were eating it up and she and pretty much the rest of the audience and the comedians in the wings came up to me and said that I was "unbelievable!" and "Like nothing they’ve ever seen!” so that felt good at least. Must be the rush a Nazi feels when he's tossing Jews in the oven like Pillsbury crescent rolls. But this rant helped me! I've been doing well…on another bi-polar up swing perhaps because of it. Now I am reminded that I’m good at this! And I can continue preparing myself for shows and hyping myself up (a little process I like to call "Preparation H.")

More excitingly, since this shift I had marathon sex Friday Saturday and Sunday (with the SAME PERSON! I know this is a big step!!!) This dude I met with my personal trainer Frankie "bag a snack wells." Frankie and I have fun together in the gym and have become friends (my first actual platonic friendship with a man that I haven’t ended up drunk and blowing who isn't a 5'2" Jewish comic,) basically all we do is terrorize the other people working out there and the other people who work there, Frankie has a great comedic rhythm and keeps up with me while I’m doing squats and crunches, it's good stuff. Anyway Frankie "bag a snack wells" took me out to the bar, after the Gotham "table of douche bags and one Asian" show for a much needed drink (I was still full of adrenaline and covered in audience blood) and his friend was there, another trainer and what can I tell ya, one drink led to another, an exchange of glances, I may or may not have sat on his lap and gave him a dental check up with my tongue (I’m shy.) I went home with him and showed him why they call me "The Recliner" (soft, squishy and always someone in me) well now that I’m skinny I guess I should be called "The Bar Stool" either way I got some good much needed lovin and the sonovabitch wants to see me again so who the hell knows...we shall see. I feel happy, go figure! It's remarkable that when you shift the depression the phone starts ringing. Already I found out today I’m gonna be on TV (nothing major, you won't be seeing me at the 2012 Emmy’s but it'll be cute and I’ll tell you about it once I sign on the dotted line) and booking more shows everyday and feeling a little more hopeful about my auditions and writing more material. God I’m such a basket case! I'm up I’m down! I have an ego that is more fragile than Laura’s glass menagerie but as long as things get accomplished in the "up" times enough to hold me over for the next time I’m rotting here in a self indulgent catatonic depression then that's good enough for me :) Guess, at the end of the day I’m like an Irish potato farm, I’m depressing and full of weeds but all I need is a plowing and I’m good for business!

Patron Tequila Comforts Her from Industrial Britain

Well apparently the years of partying have rendered me prudish. Not like prude "I wear panties with crotches" prudish...well kind of...my recent refusal to bone losers has left me with no other options then to be a prude which is such a snooze because I’m horny as a freshman! When sex actually involves blood sweat and tears you have to question whether it's worth it at the end of the day.  I am a Victorian lady now! So anyway like I was saying...I've been binge drinking, as I always have, because I don't really know how not too. I think it was Dorothy Parker who said: “If you're going to drink isn't the point to get fucked up?” wait…maybe that wasn’t Dorothy Parker…maybe it was just some guy in a parking lot. But now, I think my time has come. The hangovers are too debilitating! I always drank like a fish but I used to bounce back after a lazy day of a hangover, which in retrospect was quite romantic (Victorian), compared to now! Sick in bed for at least 4 days! I can't breath, I can't see, I can't speak, it's like I have a liver or something! Could have something to do with the fact that I used to have a plate of cocaine in my purse at all times to balance out the alcohol...god, remember how fabulous it was having money???

So I went out on Friday night with some girls I went to high school with... we used to terrorize everybody..think heather's but with flatter hair and 50 year old boyfriends. One of the girls was in a bad way because she got drunk with her new fiancée (yeah I’m fucking thrilled for her) in Montauk over labor day weekend and decided to be a hero and got on a surf board and ended up slamming her face against the board and breaking a tooth! Still not sure if this was an excuse she made up after her fiancée punched her in her smug little engaged face or if that was just my fantasy, but regardless she had a bottle full of percocets with our name on them, because drinking is fun but like I always say, a bartender is just a pharmacist with a limited inventory! So after drinking since 3pm I suggested we break out a couple of those puppies out crush 'em up and snort 'em. As one does for the maximum effect! So we did for nostalgia's sake and it was a blast but I’m paying for it still 4 days later! Along with the hangover came hangover food because I have also got it in my head that I’m too skinny now! Maybe I have become so accustomed to the hourglass (that had all the sand stuck in the middle) but I miss my shake! I'm not happy no matter what. I'm too skinny, I’m too fat but I’m always too poor. I want to be skinny but with something to grab onto. Who will grab onto me is still to be determined. Seriously, it's like I shave my legs and my vageene and my asshole everyday in the shower for this "phantom boyfriend" who's going to touch me! It’s like setting a place for Elijah at the Seder table! Regardless, I've been working out like a mad woman and eating like a normal woman (well, not a normal American woman) for 10 months so I figured you know what! Fuck it! It's my FUCK YOU TO FASHION WEEK! I don't even remember what I ate because I was in a very dark, very cold room watching Woody Allen movies (I have a thing about Jews with inferiority complex's...wonder what that's about) but what was most memorable was the blueberry pancakes with REAL whipped cream, not the fat free shit I keep in my refrigerator for the occasional mid day whip it, I mean real cream from a cow's quivering wet udder... and slathered with butter and side of bacon. Now I feel kind of bloated and fat. It's funny I never regret sleeping with what's his name but I regret the pancakes! Maybe now that I’m able to be flipped around like a pancake I feel like I should be more respectful towards them? Anyway the hangover of death is subsiding. I went to the gym today and sweat out the bottle of tequila and percocets like a good little starlet and vowing to recognize that I can't be drinking like a 12 year old anymore! I'm a lady now! A proper chaste Victorian lady! With perfumed handkerchiefs and a bound corset, who is a delicate flower and sips her brandy and is completely ignorant of intellectual opinion! But who happens to tell dick jokes for a living. 

Mean Red's and Gimme Some Head!

So I’m pretty much at my goal weight (40 lbs gone y’all!) and I think the liposuction went a little deep because it feels like the funny has been just sucked out of me completely. It’s amazing how differently people treat you when your body changes. People are just nicer! Like instead of wanting to throw feces at me when I’m walking down the street people want to shit over me while hovering over a glass coffee table! See what I mean? Polite! Or instead of wanting to shake my hand they want to stick two fingers and a thumb in me like a bowling ball and throw me down a hallway into bed! And now I’m throwable! Before all I could hope for was a soft shove! It’s nice and it’s annoying. As a female comic I have always been on the sexy side, let’s be real. I mean I always had the Marilyn thing happening, can’t help it. Not being egotistical it’s true. I mean I was just genetically programmed to be utterly fabulous (with a great set of udders, THANK YOU DEMOINES I’LL BE HERE ALL WEEK!) All the women in my family were knockouts in their day. But not to worry if you see them now you’ll see that I will one day turn into Ethel Merman. Wide assed brassy Jew broad who wears sequined sweaters with too much makeup, too much jewelry, and too much perfume, and hair that stays in place in winds up to 80 mph who never stops consuming or complaining and has a larger variety of antacids in her purse then a Walgreens shipping center. (I can’t wait!) Anyway, now all I do is work out, eat calorie free styrofoam at home alone like a dog because restaurants are off limits because you don’t even know how much oil, salt, butter or fat is injected into what seems like a guilt free menu item. So the secret to weight loss? Don’t enjoy anything! Got it? Ok!

My career has still been slow as fuck. The thing is I’m an Aries with an Aries rising and I have no fucking patience and am spoiled and angry. Plus I’m lonely and lost any fire in my belly or motivation towards comedy along the way. Pretty much the entire month of august and this lovely Labor Day weekend has been among the darkest depressions I’ve had in my life thus far with one difference. I have not been bingeing on heroin, cocaine, alcohol, pies (pizza and/or fruit,) cakes, fried everything, chips, dips, bread, cheese, candy, and ice cream with a mayonnaise chaser. Instead I’m going and sweating out my rage at show business and men (all there is in life apparently) at the gym on a pitiful little elliptical that is on its last legs from my violent exercise attacks I AM HELGA THE UNMOVABLE MOUNTAIN AAAAAGGGGG!!!! This is a good thing that I have not fallen off the wagon with all my addictions however it's not fully good news cause I have been drinking a lot and chain-smoking like Lucille ball at a friars club roast. So what the fuck is my problem? The only way I can put it is that I have these voices and demons that live within me that I have gotten pretty good at keeping quiet and docile, but these days have been reaching and sinking their black fingers (they're Caucasian, just dirty and covered in soot) into me and clawing up through my heart and my brain. They have the belief that I’m dirty and tainted and separate from all other human beings that I’m disgusting and sick and not worthy. I think everyone has a degree of these demons but they are a voice we can choose to listen too or not but sometimes they are so loud you have a harder time tuning them out. Also when listening to these voices the voices of others who aren’t necessarily positive seem the loudest too. Like some skinny white boy dime a dozen douche bag comedian who no one knows but will probably get famous before me just because he's white, funny, dorky and "relatable"(which is the main recipe in the Comedy Central cookbook of generic comedy) told me that he saw me at Caroline’s and said "you seemed really drunk on stage..." which I wasn't and anyone who knows me knows that I just act like a retard sober, then he went on to say "you were ok, you did too much crowd work I didn’t see enough of your material" meaning I improv'ed too much with the crowd, to which I responded "um sorry I didn’t realize I was auditioning" and he said "well you were auditioning for my first impression, which wasn't good and what material you did do was weak but I could see you have the potential within you to be actually funny." Now it was this kid's birthday so, as the class act that I am, I kind of just smiled said happy birthday and left biting my tongue and also left his miserable name that his slut mother gave him out of this blog. The old Harriet would've probably sent him to the hospital (I had a jwoww period in my youth) but the thing is, I realized why it burned so much was because he was kind of right. I did not have a good set that night (granted no one really did cause it was a Monday 10pm crowd which is not the most desirable spot to have, but only a chump blames their set on the audience which is exactly what I just did) I remember my crowd work did well and my material fell flat. Recently I am feeling like a complete failure as a comic (black demon fingers). Because of the lack of gigs (and open mics don’t count) I haven’t been feeling funny, that I’m coming up with anything new or anything that anyone would care about. That my act has become hokey and predictable and the worst part is that I don't really have any desire or care to write anything new or really get on stage ever again. If I’m not getting paid then it has to be fun and it's not fun at all anymore, it's fucking soul sucking and boring. But I know this is a phase. I know I’m good cause of the fan base I’ve built over the years (hopefully not just from being ‘sexy’) I’m talented and I was born to perform I’m just not feeling it right now! The passion has left! Perhaps it's the demon fingers, or maybe it's the constant focus on my diet and body that is distracting me, or the lack of any love life ever and the always being alone all the time always, or the fact that I have 30 dollars to my name! I know people have it so much worse and are struggling to eat and live and strive towards a dream on top of it and I’m sitting here unemployed and miserable in my gilded bird cage and I just stopped trying like a spoiled cunt. The world is crumbling around us with back-to-back earthquakes and hurricanes that granted have been pretty gay, but here I am focusing so much on my ego when there are real things happening around my bubble of self loathing and 35 calorie cheese wedges. I am grateful for what I do have like my family and my friends (that I can count on one shop teachers hand) I just have what Truman Capote called "the mean reds."  Don't anybody pull a Cher on me and say, "snap out of it" because you might lose a finger like a shop teacher. I am coming out of it though and starting to think about what projects I can create for myself while my blank calendar stares me in the face. I will succeed and be the star I was born to be I think I need to take these voices into consideration and heal them instead of suppressing or avoiding them so the next time they’re not so debilitating.

It’s gonna be ok! The famous Halloway resilience folks! Good stuff on the horizon which I’m excited for. Comedy can suck my dick.