I live in New York. I am a comedian, writer and actor. My day job is blogging for VH1.com. I write about the silly things celebrities and pop stars do, so you know...God's work.
You may have seen my writing on many other reputable websites (The Huffington Post, Hello Giggles, xojane.com, The Hairpin, Splitsider, The FW, etc.). I also write crazy blogs about Game of Thrones, Magneto and Jeff Goldblum.
I don't want to talk about anything with you except Star Trek Into Darkness.
My mom: Oh, so did you take your laundry out again and have someone do it for you again?
Me: Yeeeaaah...it's only a few dollars more and they do a better job.
My mom: Oh they do a better job?
Me: I'm not good at laundry.
My mom: Sure you are.
Me: No, but I would be better if I had my own washer and dryer.
My mom: Sure you would. It's always easier then.
Me: But that's never going to happen.
My mom: No, I see you with your own washer and dryer combination in a few years.
Me: Hahahaha...that will never happen.
My mom: It will. I believe in you.
In my family, I was raised with the rule, “Whomever does the cooking doesn’t do the cleaning.” After I made my mom a wonderful roast chicken dinner, she brought the rule up. I politely joked about it, but went into the kitchen to tidy up. My mom enters the kitchen and announces she’s going to help. Then, she comes close to the sink, sees what I’m doing and just says, “Actually, I’m going to let you finish what you’re doing.”
And then she smacked me on the ass.
Somebody wasn’t raised as well as I was.
Mom: Watcha doing?
Me: I'm looking at Tumblr.
Mom: TONY BLAIR?!?!?!?!
My mom…being serious.
My mom, who has never seen the show, It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia, and therefore believes it’s a figure of speech akin to “Always look on the bright side of life.”
When I laughed at her, she said, “Oh. Is it about a character named Sunny?”
Me: I'm just so exhausted. Like, sometimes I don't know if I can do all this crap anymore.
My mom: I know, sweetie, but you're so close. You've cracked the nut. You just haven't gotten to the meat yet. You're like a baby trying to get out of its shell. You're like that baby dinosaur in Jurassic Park. All you need is to get that one big piece off of your face and you're free!
Me: And then I'm going to kill everyone?
My mom: YES! LOOK OUT FOR ME WORLD! HERE I COME TO KILL YOU ALL!
Me: Okay, that's not really my thing...
My mom: YOU HAVE EVOLVED! LIFE FINDS A WAY!
Me: Uh, so, I'm tired, so I'm going to go to bed now.
My mom: YOU'RE JURASSIC PARK!
…my single mother is the one who arranged it so I could travel to the middle-of-nowhere Idaho with my uncle and his former army friend two years ago so I could learn how to handle and shoot both a pistol and a shotgun (that belonged to my uncle’s friend since he lives on a farm in the middle-of-nowhere Idaho and my mom doesn’t own a gun because she doesn’t believe in owning guns in suburban and urban homes).
I’m really sorry for the gun violence my single mother caused. That poor empty HP laptop cardboard box didn’t deserve to get shot by me so many, many, many times.
My mom on European men
Me: Everything's falling apart. My bed's falling apart. My desk. My sweaters. My shoes. Even my make-up is falling apart. It's all falling apart at once!
My Mom: Well, then, just throw everything out and start everything over again. It's a new start.