Wednesday, February 1, 2012



Just an observation. An odd one, but exactly the sort of musing that keeps me awake at night: worrying about the trials of a hypothetical sparrow...and then of course having a guilt trip about it.

Monday, January 30, 2012

Just a fact


True. So if you see me looking at you funny, don't take it personally.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Communication 101

There is no comedy here, just justified outrage. Who raised these people? If you look at me, point to your LEFT eye and say, "You've got something right here"; I will interpret it in mirror image (as meaning my RIGHT eye) because I am a normal person. I don't know how many levels of codependant/freaky I would have to be to just assume that you are symbolically becoming me in that moment and pretending you've got such empathy that my left eye has now become your left eye. Next person who pulls this crap on me gets a slap in the center of their face with the hand of my choosing.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

You can't choose your parents...


I'm not comparing myself to Him, I'm just saying a good start is a good start. Would the Sermon on the Mount have been quite the same with a disapproving mother standing at the back of the crowd judging everything he said and later telling him he'd be better off taking a Hotel Management course? Methinks not.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

They Paved Paradise...

....And besides, one doesn't really "put up" a parking lot, does one? I mean once the paving's done, all you really have to do is paint some lines....OK and maybe "put up" a kiosk for the parking lot guy to stand in. But if that's what you meant, that should have been reflected in the lyrics. I have always hated this song because of its' flagrant assault on logic. It should be, "They paved paradise, painted some lines delineating parking spots, built a kiosk for the guy to stand in, then posted a sign outside letting everyone know it was a parking lot". How would this fit into a nice tune? Not my problem. I'm not the songwriter here.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

We had to take all the fun out of it.

I know I didn't see it coming. Just for time-warpy fun let's all start calling them "communication devices" again. Or for even more fun let's call them, "Magic Demonic Talking Crystals". What sayeth thou?

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Runner-up to the Dung Beetle?

However, an argument could be made for the wine-diving fruit fly actually being a sought after situation. And while there seems to be a general consensus that Dung Beetle is about as low as one can get, I think I'd still prefer it to Telemarketing.

Monday, January 9, 2012

Why it was best that Jesus didn't date...

...And no one would buy it when you tried to act all cool and say, "Oh no, I was the one who broke up with Him...He was just too self-absorbed..." ...Although in retrospect you would have to admit you saw cracks forming in the relationship when He was telling everyone He loved them... The hardest part would be having to deal with the fact that any potential boyfriend after Him would probably have a complex about it and never return your calls.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Are you a white van man?

I mean seriously: Is there a moment of self acceptance where one makes such purchasing choices based on one's obvious position in life? ...Or do creepy guys discover their creepiness when used car salesmen continuously steer them away from the cute economy car lot and toward the windowless van section?...Or perhaps Natural Selection is at play: Creepy guys on mopeds just don't do as well (relative to their chosen career path)?

Friday, January 6, 2012


I'm sorry, even though this is supposed to be some scary VooDoo thing, I just can't be inspired to the proper amount of fear and intimidation by something that sounds like it would be neatly sorted with a course of mild antibiotics and a few embarrassing phone calls.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Fodder for my first conspiracy theory.

This was the first conundrum that created a hole in both stories for me. I would have found it more plausable if they'd told me things that would have merged the two stories a bit: like that Jesus waits in the sleigh and guards everything while Santa is breaking into the houses, or that Santa perhaps IS Jesus, albeit living under an alias as part of the Witness Protection Program ever since his run in with some shady Romans.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Street you like iz over dere pleez

Not even humorous - just a strange and true fact. I live in Belgium. People here speak Dutch. But every now and then a foreign person will ask me directions in English and for some reason when I answer them I sound like Manuel from Fawlty Towers. WHY??!! I really have no idea why I do this. Whenever it happens it just makes me feel like a tard for the rest of the day, but I can't stop myself.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012


What do they expect? They make everything from organic products and their lotions really do taste amazing. The ironic thing is that the product they busted me for was a chocolate facial mask which didn't taste like chocolate at all and was in fact really horrible. I had to sneak a capful of vanilla face cream just to get the taste out of my mouth.

Monday, January 2, 2012

Space Aliens

If you think about it, how couldn't they be? They came from light years away and/or another dimension. They will probably be rolling their eyes after everything we say. Elitist pricks.

Tattoo Worthy

I suspect this might have been a realization jotted down after a glass of wine or two. It's likely that the high rating of it in the adjacent box was added fairly soon thereafter as well.

Complex creatures that they are...

True dat.

Sunday, January 1, 2012

Junk in the back pocket of my notebook

This is stuff randomly pulled from the back pocket of my notebook. Artifacts regularly found there include flyers, set lists, balloons, newspaper clippings, and tissues I've blotted my lipstick on.

Random Cat Drawing

A random drawing of my cat, Papa Steve, in the back of my notebook. A very good likeness if I say so myself. And I do.


Yes, I did really think this. Therefore, I've been baffled most my life as to what was in it for the rooster. And how did nature see to it that all roosters were born with the same fetish? What if some of them were aroused in the same way by socks or paving stones?I know the truth now, and I sleep that much better for it.

Disco Ball

I consider this excerpt as a good start to my Comedy Notebook blog, as it is a little thingy I find amusing, yet not the sort of thing I would ever actually put in my act. Perhaps I shall write a screenplay one day and the main character will die a weepy death from this.