Mama's Collard Greens and Cornbread

YO! 

It's been a while but thanks for wanting more!

I haven't been writing because I’ve been going through some bouts of writers block, depression, anxiety, PAIN! THE PAIN! It's like childbirth and all I got to show for it is this baby weight!

But I’ve come out of it like I always do and I’m sorry I’ve been un-bloggy but I can't lie to you little sparkle faces.

I've just been existential, living purely in my ego and let me tell ya, being self-obsessed is exhausting work! Its bad enough I have to eat caviar right out of the can and have servants that give me back talk...its like living like an animal! But seriously, don't you ever get like that and say to yourself "I’ve become the type of person I hate most in the world? Fucking narcissist! I’m a fucking statistic!" Another performer with addictive personality disorder who hates herself and talks about herself and is a complete dick. Enough I say! ENOUGH! There's a whole world out there, sheesh calm down bitch! 

But its weird in my bubble of self loathing and my depressing click of gossipy smug faced gay friends (I don’t mean you, love you baby!) I still have managed to be busy doing shows and rehearsing this AWSOME play which I can't wait for you to see. I play this chick named Phyllis from long island. She's a trampy ex homecoming queen who is completely psycho(type cast). 

No sex here either. Which is good! Been coming to terms with my weight and my body (I know, can you believe it!?) and feeling pretty again and getting horn honks and googly eyes from the mens's. In the words of Fantasia Barino I got that "wobble wobble, shaped just like a cola bottle" and it’s good! I'm eating for hunger and less out of addiction to gravy. I have to celebrate my body cause I only have one and its jiggly and soft but it is what it is, and honestly who gives a shit! Being skinny is not going to make me happy, loving myself will make me happy...and maybe a little morphine. But with this new found confidence comes attracting men again. Ex's have been coming out of the woodwork, I’ve been getting approached, but dudes just wanna fuck! I've done the slut thing, its fun, I have no regrets but I’m over it. But sometimes I think I have it coming because I’m super aggressive with guys which could be translated to some as a cock tease. But just because I may occasionally "bite my lower lip" or "arch my back" when I talk to you, does not mean I’m not wifey! I can't help it (pout/blink blink/giggle giggle!)  I'm not interested in a mediocre bone that’s only going to happen once or twice. watta snooze. I want to be number one! Number one to my dude and number one to the audience and number one to me! I’m starting to sound like a Mary J. Blige song! "THIS TIME ITS FO' ME LAWD JESUS GIMME MO' BABY LOVE DONTCHA KNOW I'M DOIN ME THIS TIME BABY!" I should make an album! I've got this inner black girl thing going on today what the hell!? whatever I’m goin wit it, shooot.

So that's where I’m at...coming out of the darkness of thinking about myself, while talking about myself endlessly for a living, and suddenly un-earthing my inner r&b singer! Love it! 


oh and watch my sex tape!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4iohXh2pfGs

Progress?

So working out with the new trainer. Twice a week. Pretty high intensity. Pretty high anxiety. Hasn't done shit. 

Maybe because I'm still eating like a wildebeest. I can't help it. I had this big photo shoot (which is the picture to your left) with this pretty famous photographer where we collaborated on this concept which is me in sexy lingerie lying in a bed with my hair spread out on the pillow but I’m surrounded by cupcakes and potato chips and empty bottles of whiskey and wine and remote controls all around me on the bed. A slice a life, because I always wear lingerie and high heels and makeup when I’m shame eating in bed.... (giggle giggle) I’m a kitten (wink!) Anyway I saw some of the pictures and I looked like Louie Anderson in chiffon. What you see is completely airbrushed. Stomach removed. 

I hate going to the fucking gym more than anything. See I’m from that generation of entitled lazy coddled attention whores who would rather saw their own tit off with a plastic knife than break a sweat or do an honest days work, BUT I’m doing it and it kinda blows. Not only is it hard and it hurts but also it’s embarrassing! First of all I spend a half hour trying to find a t shirt that doesn’t have [noticeable] bbq stains on it and I only shave my ankles because that’s the part my trainer feels when he stretches me. People at the gym make me fucking sick. Check out this guy! I snapped it from the elliptical. Look at this guy...presenting his anus! 

In other news, I just cleaned out my closet… a truly dark and harrowing experience. All of the size 4 and 6 chanel and ysl dresses reminded me that not only did I used to be thin but I used to be stylish! And its unbelievable the memories attached to all the clothes. This is what I wore when I had a boyfriend. This is what I wore when I cheated on my boyfriend, this is what I wore when I was boning a stranger in a bathroom stall at bungalow 8, this is what I wore that time I was doing blow with that hooker and Andy Dick, this is what I wore when I used to leave the house for something other than cake. As I was tossing them in the give away pile I was crying touched by all the good memories...of being touched 

OH p.s. Do you think its funny that I gave the salvation army like 3 old vibrators mixed in with the clothes? Well I do.  HAHA! YOU TOUCHED IT!!!!

The Kick In the Size 14 Pants!

Ok so remember the [s]ex convict from Pittsburgh?? He posted this picture of him and me on his facebook wall where I look like a fucking moose and of course I untagged myself because it was not cute....

Some chick friend of his commented on it "You love the fat bitches!" It kind of hit me hard but I regained composure and decided to be a lady about it and commented back "Yep, but you can't diet away ugly you fucking twat!"

I have to say though, it really lit a fire under me. Right then and there I ran and renewed my gym membership at a nice clean shiny new gym and signed up to work out with a big beefy sexy Brooklyn Italian gumba trainer twice a week. I told him "Just make me into something fuckable" he laughed, (he gets me) complied and explained to me that he's an ex marine and a football player (YUM! oop, sorry I just slid off my chair) and he's gonna be real tough on me and he's the 'boss' and he will only work with me if I’m extremely dedicated. He also said he will yell and curse which, for me, is a prerequisite with boyfriends and apparently now trainers. So tomorrow at 11am I am going to get my ass kicked in the gym by this gabagooli piece of meat. Truthfully I would rather sit on his lap and feed him lasagna than work out but that will come in time.

I'm a little nervous because this is so typical of me to just jump back in. I have a fear of failing again, but what can I do? I feel disgusting. Every time I look in the mirror I get nauseous and as much as I love waffles I hate the way I feel like this. I have been getting happier and I want my body to match my state of mind. So here I go again. I think it'll be good to have someone who's really tough on me to make me not slip up. Who knows it’s all about the journey and I’m just a small town girl livin in a lonely world.

So thank you facebook cunt! Thank you for calling to my attention that something needs to be done. And rest assured I will fuck your boyfriend and probably your father, and I’m gonna look damn good doing it!

Why Hello Again

Hey Dolls,

Haven't written in a while because I’ve been busy on the road and working on some stuff. I'm going to be on Jeffery and Cole Casserole this Friday at midnight on LOGO, which is exciting, so be sure to tune into that. I'm working on some other exciting stuff that I don’t want to jinx so I'm just gonna tell you about it later. 

My weight is still a disaster. I mean I’m becoming more accepting of it and have sort of stopped the binge cycle, which is good. The diner downstairs hasn't heard from me as much and is probably wondering if I finally died. 

Today I went shopping with one of my homos and tried on a Zac Posen rubber band skirt in a large and it was pretty depressing. Homo was like "yeah you can't wear that, at least not yet." It looked like someone was fisting some ricotta cheese in a nylon stocking, which, incidentally is an activity homo is very familiar with. That’s what I love about homo; he tells it like it is! He may not have any t-cells left but he's certainly got lots of moxy!  

Speaking of AIDS, I wouldn’t mind getting laid myself. It’s been a while, although I did make out with a townie when I was doing some shows in Pittsburgh. I was torturing him from the stage and I guess he has an abuse fetish because he came up to me after and put his big masculine arms around my even bigger and more masculine waist and squeezed it and pulled me on top of his 20-year-old boner and stuck is tongue down my throat. He had a tattoo of a miller beer can on his bicep which I have to say was pretty hot in a "Let’s smoke some meth and beat up on some fags and blacks" sort of way.

I still have this stupid belief that I won't really get a man until I’m a certain size, which is stupid I know. Maybe one of the reasons I’m still not "that size" is so I can hold off on love for a while. Let the old ticker heal. Such stupid girl stuff. Puke (I wish)

But I have to say I am happy and doing good and good things are happening so I keep on movin. And as I sit here and type, my stomach resting comfortably on my lap, I think to myself, Bruce Vilanch, (that's what I call myself sometimes) Bruce Vilanch, take a fucking shower because you’re starting to smell like the poor.

Have a wonderful week button's!

An Accident, And Not The Kind in My Pants.

What a weekend. I just got back from doing 3 shows in Princeton and got in 2 car accidents and got a ticket all in 2 days! So I was putting on mascara, lacing up a corset, texting and drinking bourbon while steering but what’s the big deal, I’m a multitasking career girl! And I got a parking ticket! There were no signs that said I couldn’t…. in that swamp.

I'm just riddled with anxiety. My car is totaled and I have terrible TMJ. By the way there is some sort of psychosomatic tightening of my jaw and my vagina that is happening. I have to literally take a breath and remember to unclench. It’s like a permanent kegal which sounds like a dream but trust me its not. 

What is that about? I am subconsciously tightening and closing my openings from stress. Consciously I love a nice dick but my subconscious must've been raped by something dark and ugly because this is ridiculous. It’s like a vice!

My shrink told me I need to start masturbating. I've never really done it, I’ve tried but truthfully after 45 minutes of screaming, "I’m close, I’m close, I’m close" ones arm gets tired. I like the real deal better with a real live person...call me old fashioned! She said that it would be interesting if I started masturbating because she senses, in her professional opinion, that after climax, all my self hatred will come bubbling to the surface. There’s an incentive! Most people look forward to a cigarette after an orgasm, she's telling me I have to look forward to post traumatic stress syndrome! Not what I call a "happy ending."

My calendar has been filling up which is good but it looks like I won't have a car to get to these gigs I have to go to which concerns me greatly. What am I supposed to tell my agent? I banged up my dad's car and he won't let me work!? Oh yeah I forgot to mention it was my dad’s car. He sent me an angry strongly worded email today that he thinks I am trying to intentionally hurt him by lying to him about my accident and that I’m a no good piece of shit lying manipulating ungrateful brat. Which is all I need. I actually really fucked up my neck and shoulder and suffered extreme anxiety over this weekend and the auto-drama. And truthfully being a grown woman getting in trouble with her father doesnt help and it seems like nobody fucking cares.
You should know I'm a really good friend to people I love. Like really good, if i let you in my heart there is NOTHING i won't do for you, like i would take a bullet. Friends that I always take care of, and am there for when they are sick and in pain seem to be getting a laugh out of my calamities and not even once asking how I’m doing or how my neck is. I know I’m hilarious when I’m angry or in pain (its true I really am, I’m adorable!) but I need a hug not a laugh or at least a phone call! But that’s alright, I’m not Jill Zarin I don't keep score of who's a better friend but I can’t ignore the fact that whenever I feel down or hurt I am always somehow more isolated than when I'm not. Whatever it's stupid to have expectations of people, I’m learning. Alright that's enough! There are more violins in here than in Steven Tyler's bathroom! 

I need to clear out the negativity inside me right now because I’m a nasty mess. No wonder no one wants to be around me! I'm working which is really positive and really important to me so there you have it. 

Focus! 

How Many Cans of Pringles Do I Have to Eat To Make The Pain Go Away?

Well today HH is back on the WW. Its been a rough coupl'a weeks. I literally ate everything and anything at all times of the day. Put on 20 lbs and ruined all my hard work but I’m going to start again with hopes of finding some sort of strength and discipline in me this time around. I hate the way that I feel like this. Like my stomach is actually resting on my thighs right now. My ass and tits jiggle like a drunk Asian girl trying to stand still with heels on.

Last week sucked. I had a couple panic attacks and pretty much haven’t left the house in days. First of all it’s too fucking hot! I'm sick of being so sweaty! Sweating like a blind lesbian at a fish market (HI-YO!) Who wants to be wet all the time, and breathing stagnant air? What a nightmare! These assholes in sun dresses and gladiator sandals all moist and veiny….give me a coupl'a wool sweaters and a fur any day. I always feel like I look so matte and polished in the winter months. My makeup and hair is always perfect...In the summer I look like Tammy Faye in the crematorium...(groan)

I'm feeling sort of back to my old self. Its weird re-reading my blog entries I realize what a predictable slut I am. Bone-Depression-Binge-Back Bone-Depression-Binge-Back. What a snooze. 

I had my tarot cards read yesterday and it made me feel much more positive whether you believe in that stuff or not. I guess I forget that things have a way of working out and there’s a time and alchemy for everything to come to place. Basically he said that everything will turn around in the Fall, as the weather changes so will my career and love life and I have a god given gift to bring laughter to the world. Isn't that sweet? I know he's right I’m just wonderful! So I was right! Nothing good comes from the summer, at least not for the doughy and hilarious...So enjoy it while it lasts you fucking rock hard sweaty whores! 

XOXO

H 
Here is what i did to myself. Its sick i know. I'm sick I have a sickness. 
BEFORE: I was almost there stomach was like a week away from being completely flat

AFTER: The saboteur rears her ugly head!

Slow It Down There Fatty

Well remember when I said I went off weight watchers for 3 days...yeah that turned into 2 weeks. I'm pretty much back to square one. I gained about 20 lbs in 2 weeks and before you say no it’s not possible, keep in mind, you've never seen me eat. I eat my life away, in private, with the shades drawn like a drug addict. So whatever. I am where I am. I sabotaged myself again. I failed. I have ass on all sides of my body now. Baby got front!

 I keep telling myself...this is the last day of binging 5 times a day. Tomorrow I will change, but tomorrow comes and I see blackness, and not just the girl behind the counter at KFC, I mean real darkness.... as in a bleak doomed existence. I think what I am battling here, more than weight is a real food addiction. Welp Oprah! You nailed it again! It’s not the thyroid, its not the exhaustion, its the addiction to filling our fantastic souls with pudding. What am I feeding? What is this blind inhalation of food all about? Well from what I can tell it’s that I’m lonely. That I’m scared I’ll always be lonely. That I’m in a constant pursuit for love of all kinds and I’m not giving it to myself or letting myself have it so I must coat my insides with gravy and make flesh cushions so no one can come near me? Maybe. My shrink seems to think that is the case and tries to help me work on it by practicing to love my inner child, and nurture myself and fill myself with love. I'm working on it. I know it all sounds a little birkenstockish but I am in agreement with the theory that we can energetically shift our thinking and thereby shift our life. I'll get there. 

It's typical "20's" shit. Finding yourself, learning about yourself through others, defining who you are blah blah blah. I hate being in my 20's. I don't like the process of it, and frankly, I don’t think that I’m really cut out for it, on a soul level. I think I’m meant to be in my 50's or 60's. I mean think about it! I love to sit, I love to gossip, I love the beauty parlor, and playing cards. I love too much jewelry at a swimming pool. Basically I’m ready to retire is what I’m saying here. Enough is enough. I don’t want to meet my husband (god willing there is one) I don't want the honeymoon period, I’m not excited for that. The only fucking I want to do is giving my husband the middle finger as we pass each other in the hallway. Is that sick? Maybe I’m just fundamentally the laziest person on earth. I cant guarantee that I have a great life ahead of me and not knowing is very unsettling for me. But it’s my decision. I know this. I have to keep plugging away and it’s exhausting. I just want the end result. Maybe that’s why eating is so satisfying. You eat, you shit (god willing) you eat again and so on and so on. 

Tolstoy famously said, "The biggest surprise in a man's life is old age." I suppose I don't want to turn around and be old and think that I ate and slept and drank my life away. I would like to look back and say I had a pretty amazing crazy life. So I’m not going to go crazy about the number on the scale for the time being although I know we are all anticipating the after photos, or maybe I just am, but I am going to go crazy about slowing down, not being so fearful and enjoying the process.