Ever get annoyed? Ever feel like someone needs to be told where the dog died? Or handed a crowbar and a tub of Elbow Grease to help them pry their head out of their arse? Congratulations--you've come to the right place.

And when I'm not commenting on the latest thing to piss me off, I'm trying to figure out my own twisted life. Because, hey, I'm like that.

On a gentler note: for anyone dealing with depression, anxiety, and other assorted bullshit: You are NOT alone.

And if you're looking for a laugh, search on the key word "fuckery." It's just my little thing (as the bishop said to the actress).

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Ultimate Jim Workout

For the record, casinos are my definition of hell. My spidey senses are screaming.

We also cannot locate St. Teresa. My worst nightmare did NOT come true-she did not show up after the show & accost Jim Jefferies.

Instead, my second worst nightmare is coming true-we have no idea where she is.

However... the show...ZOMG, JIM! AMAZING gig, better than New York. Better than the DVDs. Just... artistically, i am in love.

I'm coming down from the tequila and more... the comedy. I think i might have cum, the show was so good, from start to finish. Steve Lazarus & Pat Oates did fab openers-just a perfect warm up.

And Jim... at the top of his game. Looooooong set, the audience was with him (well, i was).

More later. Must find my mother & drive back to Boston.

Thanks, Jim. Thank you. Thank you for your fearlessness, thank you for your honesty. Thank you for it all.
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