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. 

The Scale

Alright so I slipped! I took 3 days and just totally fell off the wagon. Ate everything and anything in site. No holds barred, no counting points no nothing. And I was doing so well!

I weighed myself and thought I was at my goal weight but none of my old clothes were even dreaming of zipping. I’m all “OMG get a loada me! I’m the skinniest littlest sexiest thing since Melba toast!” Then I'm in my closet trying to pull on a pair of size 4 YSL shorts over my GIANT ASS!

I decided to try a different scale because maybe mine was broken. So I did what any normal logical person would do: I got drunk and slept with somebody who had one. When I awoke next to whats his name, I tip toed to his bathroom and I was shocked! His scale told me I was 20 lbs heavier than I thought! And I trust his scale because the night before he paid for the cab so I knew he was a stand up guy! On the walk of shame home in the middle of Murray Hill in the blinding sun, with my dried up nose bleed and wrinkled sequined cocktail dress, I felt the  stares of the people on their way to work thinking “God! What a Fat Ass!”

So, depressed and defeated I decided to binge because “that’ll teach ‘em!” I ate BLT’s, fried mozzarella sticks, entire bags of Doritos, macaroni and cheese, every kind of candy you can imagine, real ice cream, pasta in rich cream sauces, bread, pizza, cake, you name it! When I start I can’t stop until I have everything that I can think of so I can be done, and that will be that. This is a horrible way to react, I know this, but when I’m upset I just go for it, it’s how I'm programmed.

It wasn’t only my backstabbing serpent liar scale that upset me, it’s the lack of work I’ve been getting. I saw the Joan Rivers documentary and related so much! I need to wear sunglasses because the white of the blank calendar is blinding me! I have been working endlessly on other projects which is good, but who am I if I'm not on stage? I’m a fucking mess! I hate not performing it makes me so sad and withdrawn and hungry. Microphones are Prozac. But things will pick up, that’s showbiz…ups and downs.

I’ve been working the press angle in the hopes that if my name is somewhere then I might be more inclined to get a nice juicy full calendar. So interviews are set up, things are moving everything will be fine.

Setbacks are normal! I’m not going to beat myself up over this. Although its hard walking around in the summer seeing all the flat stomachs and the men who love to spooge on them. Fucking TINY SLUTS! I HATE YOU! AAARRGHHHHHGGG! No I’m fine….really! In fact, I think I’m gonna change my name to Harmony Halloway. Wattaya think?

I'm Trying Here!

Just got back from family overnight trip. My brother got sworn into the Maryland bar so we all went down to support him. Thank god there’s a lawyer in the family...with my mouth I’ll need one! Although I asked him what time it was and he sent me a bill!

This was a good trip and a bad trip for a lot of reasons and not only cause I learned that mescaline and mesculin are two different things.  It was good because I actually had a really good talk with my dad about my career and life and everything. I saw my brother accomplish something really huge and my dad was crying sitting next to me SO proud of the big oaf, and it made me want him to feel proud of me that way. Basically I brought up that there were unsavory things written about me on the internet and he told me. "Suzie! This is what you love to do! People are always gonna be nasty and talk shit, but you got a family and friends who love you and will always support you and you are meant to entertain. This is your dream and you'd be a fool to let that go cause of some asshole on the googles." Even though it sounded like a generic dad speech it actually sunk in and made me feel better! Go figure! The old man nailed it! First of all it was the first time my dad has EVER acknowledged what I do for a living and more than that made it feel like being an entertainer was, I dunno, a good idea?! He's a good pop and after all is said and done and all the bullshit curve balls that life has thrown at me I’m a pretty lucky gal. 

My mom was driving me crazy because she’s such a Pollyanna and thinks that life is perfect and full of light and good vibrations. My glasses are never rose colored and hers always are and sometimes that annoys the fuck out of me. (For a first hand look at the irritation I posted a link below of hour 3 of our road trip to Maryland together.) She's a good kid. She just wants me to be happy and tries the only way she knows how. Incessant affirmations that make the veins in my forehead pop out. 

Anyway, June being kind of slow, some things have started picking up, actually in the past 24 hours. There’s some big press and TV stuff that is happening on the way and a new agent, oddly enough in the wake of shit talk from meanies. I gotta take dads advice of tuning out the haters and reminding myself of what I do and why I do it and moms advice of protecting myself with seashell bellies and unicorn farts and just power the fuck through. What happens happens. I just wanna make some moneys doing my thang. Is that so much to ask?

So GO FUCK YOURSELF HATERS! I AIN’T SCARED A YEAUX!

CLICK HERE TO SEE ME AND MOM

I don't know how not to blow you.

I've been having a lot of sex recently. The summer of the slut! I guess now that I’m half way to my goal weight I now have the confidence I need to have so so empty sex with total strangers. Everyone's been pretty medioke. But I’ve been having fun I s'pose and my pee doesn’t seem to be burning yet. I don’t know what it is, its like the old song goes: "I’m just a girl who can't say no, I'm in a turrible fix! I always say 'come on, let's go' Jist when I orta say nix!" I've always been that way. It's that all or nothing mentality I guess. Like I’ll go for 6 months in a complete dry spell and then I’ll go another 6 months like a recliner: soft, squishy and always someone in me. I'm all for free love, I just feel like after a certain age you shouldn’t still wake up the next morning and shudder. The ones who dig me give me the heebee jeebee's, and the ones who I dig want nothing to do with me! Ain't that the way it goes!? Might be nice to have someone who, I don’t know, might want to see me a second time? Like I slept with a guy from Finland the other day, he never called me again, guess he was finnished. 

All I want is a big giant beefy manly man who can flip me around like a pancake, has a few sheckles in the bank, is hilarious, and gets all googly eyed when he looks at me. You know, my ego needs to get fangered too sometimes! (You have to say fanger like:"OH MAMA he FANGERED me behind the bleachers Mama! But I love 'im Mama.... cuz he fangered me!). I want a guy with a dick that spouts oxygen and I live on the moon! Seriously though is that too much to ask!? 

I have no regrets about these rendez vous'. I really don’t. I wouldn’t sleep with someone if I didn’t really want too, it’s just that sometimes I don't realize until after the fact. 

The guys have been skeeving me out though. I slept with some guy last night who's idea of pillow talk is telling me the story of when he took a shit outside on the ground in union square in the middle of the night cuz he really had to go and there was no bathrooms open! LIKE SERIOUSLY!? And he was outraged that I’ve never taken a shit outside before! Does a Harriet shit in the woods!? FUCK NO! And he like burped and farted in front of me! Meanwhile, all i do is suck my stomach in and eat bib lettuce with the dressing on the side and spend hours plucking and waxing and moisterizing and perfuming just for someone to pass gass in my fucking face! Its disgusting! Or then there’s the guy who I went out with a few weeks back who doesn’t call me or ask me out, but periodically sends me pictures of himself with random celebrities he takes on his i-phone. Yeah, thanks. Wow you must be too cool for me dude! People are the weirdest man! I mean maybe I’m no prize but Jesus Christ if this is what’s out there, then maybe saturday night's filled with high calorie ice cream and showtime on demand doesnt look so bad! 

DEATH METAL!

I’m so fucking metal! Metal is the phrase of the day. Pass it on. It means awesome. It means rock and roll. It means VERY BADASS! 

Its time to take some action and make some shit happen. I lost 23 lbs and counting. Betcha cant wait for my "after" bikini shots. I got that tiny pink bikini waiting in my closet, seams are still in tact! But blah blah blah folks! Who honestly gives a shit? All I want to do is be busy. I’m scared shitless cause June has no bookings. Well two so far and that’s better than nothing but my bank account is dryer than my womb. I don’t need to be skinny I don’t need to be freshly fucked, although the steroids that my dermatologist put me on for my mysterious and incessant itching (sexy right?) have been making me wetter than the underside of John Goodman’s man boob. You know what else I don't need? I don’t need to have my dick stroked by a bunch of agents and publicists and like-minded showbiz people who promise me the world and don't return my phone calls. In this day and age in showbiz you gotta make it happen for yourself. I need to take the fork out of my mouth and replace it with money. Put my money where my mouth is is what I’m trying to say.  I'm sorry. I’m in a vulgar sort of crazed mood right now. Thought it might be a good time to write. 

But its summer ladies and gentlemen! I was always a child of the summer. Well that’s a lie. Summer is only fun when your stomach is flat. There was only that one summer when I was skinny. It was the best summer ever 2 summers ago. I was so skinny and had a "boyfriend" (exclusive bone) and a job at a nightclub which allowed me some money to waste away on Christian Louboutins which are all fucked up now because you put 200 lbs on a ciggarette heel and add a bottle of whiskey and your shoes don’t stay in the best condition. Now I’m dieting and my money is being drained. But I am hopeful! I am going to be a star goddamn it! I am going to make television history and live in laurel canyon in an amazingly landscaped house with my airedailes and fresh Christian Louboutins  that I walk on like a butterfly and I don’t give a shit if you believe me or not. I am so FUCKING METAL! (air guitar) and guess who else is metal... YOU!

Boys Boys Boys (-enberry pie)

So summer is here. Such a beautiful fucking day in gods green kingdom. I'm sick from the case of kettle one I drank this weekend. It’s coming out my pores. My forehead has zits with their own shadow. That’s alright it needs to come out. Seep through me. On the bright side I lost 18 lbs in 6 weeks on weight watchers! I have another 20 to go but I’m taking it slow… so by my calculations I should be at my goal weight by the fall…just in time for thanksgiving… And mind you I’ve dropped this weight with pretty much no exercise. I literally don’t move. I sit. I point to things. I sleep. It’s really the glamorous life I’ve always dreamed of. Unemployed and dieting.

Dating's been…let us say…having some sort of momentum lately. In that I kinda met someone I kinda dig. Someone diggable. Oh and its a wonderful feeling. Thank god I actually like someone...this soul crushing anxiety I feel is awesome! I HATE having crushes! As far as I'm concerned having a "crush" on someone is just a reminder of how alone you actually are. Because you like someone and there they are...all the way over there...on their i-phone being all aloof...fucking dreamboat just chillin right over there...and here I am...with my blackberry being all "maybe I should check the battery because something must be wrong I’m not getting any texts." Even Howie Mandell's phone rang eventually. You meet someone you like and they text (i paraphrase): "oh I’m coming over to bone your brains out!" Then cut to one too many hours later you’re wondering if the” just kidding” was silent. Cause then I get all dolled up in a "oh whatever I just effortlessly look like this" kind of way. Like tousled hair, soft cotton...just smelling like cookies for no goddamned reason. Yeah THIS TOOK 2 HOURS PRICK!! 

I guess what it is, is this whole guy girl thing just bypasses me completely. I've never had a mind for dating politics. Like my girlfriends are like "I mean Becky,” they think my name is Becky, “Wait like 2 weeks before like going down on him, and when you do be sure to only make it half a blowie because I mean like whattryou a whore? And wait 3 quarter lunar fortnights in between texts cause you don’t want him to think that you got nothin else goin on." p.s. all these idiots have boyfriends. So maybe the games work. I never really wanted a boyfriend before. I mean I want a huz one day down the road to gimme some awesome lil babies but that’s way off. Until then I don’t really give a shit, but I see it happening around me and it just makes me curious because I’ve never really had one. You see, I'm the rebound blonde...or the coupl'a laughs girl...or the friend with benefits. Men seem to think I’m just a good time Charlie because I shove it all in their face. Oh no no! I take full responsibility! You don’t have a pair of double d's and eyes that go up and down a man like a searchlight and not be asking for trouble! I just can't help it! I love men! Sue me! I love the way they smell, the way they feel, the way they chew on a steak or sip on a beer, I love the way they look, the way they’re built, the way they taste, the way they find something funny and smirk out of the corner of their mouths, I love their whiskers, I love a man’s laundry, dirty and clean…you name it, I love every part! I even love the way they hurt me! (violin) And I wonder why I’m never "the girlfriend" and never have been. I don’t know what it is...I guess I’m just too much of a blast! Maybe if I was mousier and a little more shy at parties I’d be the girl a guy can just stay at home with and do whatever it is that couples do. But I think I’d make an awesome girlfriend one day... I mean come on I’d be the best! I would relationship the SHIT outta this shit!

It’s just this springtime heat and this city. You got to be here to experience it. It happens every year…the weather gets really hot, the clothes come off, and the everybody just swells with love. It’s in the air and its food for thought. Mmmm I like food…especially pie…and gummy bears. 13 points left today.

Where Have I Been!?

Ok so I’ve been M.I.A. I know...

It’s been a really rough week. I get these catatonic depressions sometimes where I hide in my room with the curtains drawn for days and weeks and months sometimes and ignore the phone and the world. It was one of those. I've been through them before usually triggered by something that sends me into a tailspin. This time it was a week ago when I went out and Kelly Osborne (or as I like to call her Babe: Pig in the City) and her band of skinny hipster star fuckers hurt my feelings at some poser nightclub, which I don’t even know why I went there but so it goes. After this drunken "fight" I went home and ate two Entenmanns cakes (Devils Food with marshmallow frosting and Louisiana Crunch) and slept for a week refusing to come out of hiding. Babe was simply the catalyst for a much bigger problem that manifested itself into a definite set back. I like to cocoon and sleep in crumbs and not shower for a couple days (wait a minute...whose the pig now?). I started drinking and smoking a few cigarettes here and there a couple of weeks ago when I was on the road which I knew would off set a myriad of bad behavior, but I did it any way. Its all good though. I stopped smoking, and even after turning my bed into a trough and eating everything in sight with my hands tied behind my back, I weighed in today and saw that I miraculously gained 0 lbs last week! I don’t understand it, I’m not questioning it but phew that was a close one. I'm back on!

Because I am more self-aware now then ever, these depressions last only a few days instead of months like they used too. Seriously, I was like the Bouvier-Beales and my apartment would turn into Grey Gardens except with chicken carcasses instead of cats. I know who I am and where I’m going and have more faith now I suppose. I just need to be reminded of it, and not be so self indulgent and feel sorry for myself like a little pussy bitch! I know I need to hide a little bit sometimes cause the world is really scary! So I do and then I’m good. It’s like recharging my batteries. I'm more resilient now, and I have to be in this business, so I’m not going to let some ignorant reality TV star with cankles get in the way of where I’m going.

So here it is! I’ve gotten your letters and heard you come up to me after shows asking why I haven't blogged in a while (and thanks for reading) I felt I owed you an explanation. I've had a really rough go. I guess all creative people go through their periods of feeling crappy because comedy, for example, is an individual pursuit and that can be really isolating. In daily life, and I would imagine many other types of 'artists' feel like they are easily disconnected from society. People are always rubbing their goddamned ovaries and 6 foot something boyfriends in my face (the other day a friend actually said to me "I have so much cum in my hair, right now!" and I turned to him and said “Justin Elizabeth Bieber that is ENOUGH!”). Yes ok, I get bitter sometimes! I don’t want to hear about how your boss doesn’t understand you, and its not that I have anything better to contribute but it stings more I think because my dreams may not always be appreciated or maybe sometimes looked down upon. Sometimes I get blue cause my notion of success seems unachievable or unrealistic to me too and that’s just normal to get scared and hide. 

Anyway thank you so much for the letters and the laughs and the love. I know I’m on the right track and I aint never givin up! I have no alternative! There's a lot more filth left in this mouth to spread around...ok I meant jokes.... not like herpes.... herpes is so junior high.