SUNDAY, 2 AUGUST 2015 —
I went back to comedy last night and killed it. I’m not even exaggerating. I found it so refreshing to come back after a four-month hiatus to a group of new faces and not any of the locals I have come to loathe. We opened with a new face, a female comedian that performed in a very controlled, essay manner. She’s a good writer. I wish she had a little more energy because I want to like her material more. She sent me a message today that said she wish she had my energy even just a little bit. I think that comes with the territory, but I honestly just want her to be her. If she has a storyteller delivery, there is an audience for that. I see good writing coming from her. I love writers!
This morning I was invited to brunch with friends, but passed because they wanted to meet up in the ‘burbs at like 11 am and I’m not even thinking about getting in the shower on a Sunday until about noon or so. So, no, I can’t make that happen. As much as I love my friends, I just can’t interrupt my ONLY day off. Chris goes to work about 9:30 or so on Sundays and it gives me a chance to wander around in my Andrew Christians and listen to Mariah Carey on blast as I sip coffee and take forty restroom breaks from downing vegetable laxatives and drowning them with caffeine. Whatever works, right? My mom is off today and I would like to sit down and have a meal with her, go shopping and come back to do absolutely nothing. I’m in the middle of reading one of Andy Cohen’s books, Bethenny Frankel’s first book (it’s not that good) and Nigella Lawson’s How To Eat. I take turns reading two chapters at a time. That’s my way of getting through books. I literally play duck-duck-goose with all three. It works for me. Brunch at 11 would simply distract me from reading, blogging, writing new material and spending time with my mom. Sorry guys. Sunday belongs to me only.
I went through my inbox today and received some amazing messages from people that saw me perform last night. I have missed those messages. I really hated being away from performing and writing for as long as I was. It WAS NOT refreshing to be gone. I have literally saturated my schedule with color clients and the rest is spent at home watching DVRed shows. It’s not fun to me. I hate being home really. I’m social. When I’m home, I love to do everything I said in paragraph two: read, Mariah, poop and drink coffee. (Not always in that order)
Last night I saw a color client of mine that clearly went somewhere else. She admitted that she stopped coming to the salon due to April’s controversy at The Downtown Bar. I was sad because I thought she’d be a better friend about it. I get it though. I don’t expect everyone to have my back, but I do admit it felt comforting to talk to her about it. She says she’s coming back and that made me happy because she’s cheerful and sweet. I missed her and welcomed her back to the salon. I hope she calls soon.
We ate at Andy Mac’s last night. I love eating there. They are so damn sweet! The bar is clean, clean, clean! They have a decent little menu. I had chicken tacos last night and they were alright, Chris’ nachos were great, but we both were not super hungry. He had eaten left over pizza before we called the cab company and I devoured the Chicken Cordon Bleu Bites before my tacos came. I laugh because those fried chicken balls filled with ham and cheese break every kosher rule, but so does most of my comedy and multiple aspects of my life. Joe and Demetria joined us last night and I attempted to shoot whisky with Joe and failed as I made the face someone makes in a bad porno after swallowing. Meech was slamming beers like a champ and after three crown and cokes, I felt like going home and napping. I have concluded, I’m definitely thirty-something, not twenty-something anymore. My drinking habits show it for sure. Comedy was on point though and that’s all that matters to me.
There is nothing like the cheers before, during and after a performance. That’s a warm blanket for me. Being with my friends and bubs in a clean, polite environment was the icing on a very well-made cake of a night. Brunch could have never trumped last night. Sorry again, guys.