Hungover & Hungry: Misadventures at the Safeway Deli Counter

Not too long ago, on a night much like tonight, I drank almost the entire contents of a 1.5 Liter bottle of Merlot. I was with other people; it's not like it was a sad affair of me alone drinking a giant bottle of wine in my room until 2am. No. I was drinking with friends until 630am. I slept at my friend's place and I woke up just about noon and I had to leave. If I waited any longer traffic would have been hell. I got myself together in about a half hour and left. I felt fine (I puked at about 5am). It's about a 45 minute drive from my friend's place to mine and I felt alright considering all the wine that was working its way through my system. I hadn't eaten in many hours and it was making me feel sick. I decided to stop at the Safeway that was just the exit before my house. All I could think about was getting a sandwich from the deli counter and eating the fuck out of it.

I got to the deli counter after picking up some other essentials (A carton of ice cream and a small bag of Cheetos Puff) I waited behind two people to order my sandwich. As I waited in line it was at that moment that my body signals to me, "Hey... we're still drunk" Not super drunk, but that am I hungover or drunk? phase of the whole thing. I waited in line entirely too long. These were the slowest sandwich makers I had ever encountered. I've never seen anyone spread condiments slowly til that afternoon.

It was finally my turn and I was ready with my simple request. "I was roast beef, on the french bread, just mayo."

She responded cheerfully, "Would you like to make it a meal?"

"No."

"But you get chips and a drink for just two extra dollars."

Stone cold I replied, "I understand what the meal is, but I don't want chips and a drink, I just want the sandwich."

She makes the sandwich and asks me what cheese I'd like. I didn't want anything on my sandwich but meat and a condiment. Don't judge me; I don't like veggies and I don't like cheese with roast beef.

Anyway I said I didn't want cheese, "Just mayo. That's it."

She makes the sandwich, she's just about to cut it and she says, "Wouldn't you rather get the meat to make a sandwich, that would be cheaper."

I was appalled. She just made me the damn sandwich! And isn't she supposed to be upselling me like with the meal deal?

I said calmly, yet sternly, as if I was a serial killer ready to lose my shit, "Honestly, I drank a bottle of wine by myself last night and all I want is a sandwich with no effort on my part, so please just give me my sandwich."

She wrapped it up and I took it. I did self-check out and I left.

She really pissed me off. Just do as I ask! I really wanted to make a point. I really wanted to just drop my basket of unhealthy items and storm out. But then it would have taken me longer to get a sandwich that I so desperately wanted, and I wanted a sandwich just a little bit more than I wanted to make a point.

Breaking Down

I've been put through an emotional wringer the last 9 months, and I feel like I can't talk about it the way I want to talk about it. I feel like I'm not allowed to talk about it. I've experienced every type of emotion a person can experience in a short time frame and I've had to keep it all to myself. There have been secrets and private conversations. There are other people's privacy involved as well. I also just can't feel what I want to feel because I won't let myself do that. Even though I want to talk about it with friends, I don't, because I don't want them to see me cry, or break down. I used to be such a depressed person. I used to feel defeated and hopeless all the time. I don't want to be that person, and I haven't been that person in a very long time. The fact that I don't want to be that sad person anymore has made it so I don't allow myself to feel any unpleasant emotions and I won't express them. It's beginning to blow up in my face. I'm trying to find a balance to where I can be sad for the things I've been experiencing lately, but not lose myself into an episode of depression where I eat my feelings and listen to Dashboard Confessionals and cry my days away.

There are so many things I don't understand and I probably never will because I'm too afraid to get my answers. I'm too afraid to find out that no matter how great they may say I am, I'm not great enough. That there will always be someone better than me out there. That I'll never be anything more than someone's 2nd place. Because if that is the case, if that is the truth, then what's the point? Why should I keep putting myself out there when no one is going to care. Why should I put myself out there when all it's going to do is take me to finish line just to have someone else shove off the track before I can cross the finish line.

I'm not looking for love. I'm just looking to not get hurt. I didn't plan on the last year of my life to happen, but it did. I never wanted a guy to offer me everything I ever wanted only to ignore me for months at a time because he had other things to do than to not be with me. To tell me he wanted to be with me only to never follow through on his word.

I never wanted to make a connection with someone so deep, so real, just to sit around and wonder why he doesn't see me the same way I see him.

And there's so much more than that, but just too personal and dark to talk about in a public forum such as this. I've had to deal with it on my own as people make comments to me about what appears to be the truth when in reality if they knew what's been going on with me they wouldn't make any comments. They'd wonder how I'm able to function so well. I'm a girl that can keep her shit together for the sake of appearances. It's an Oscar worthy performance.

Nothing makes you feel more alone than feeling like you have to feel and process pain by yourself.

I'm writing this to express myself, not to get your pity. I'm writing this because I need to figure out how to deal with everything that has happened and the things that are currently happening in my life.


"Figure out what you want, and learn how to ask for it."

I've been trying to do that ever since I heard that line last December.

An Excerpt From Whatever it is I'm Writing

So I'm putting together a book, a memoir... I don't know what it is as I'm still living my story. Just wanted to share part of what I've been working on. Enjoy.


When you're in high school and your friends don’t think you’re pretty, or at least as pretty as they are, they boast about your great personality. It’s their loop hole way of redirecting the question, “Is she pretty?” Instead of insulting their friend, they say, “Well, she has a great personality!” I don’t have concrete proof that my friends didn’t think I was pretty, but they gave me at least three make overs in a two year time frame. Oprah didn’t give away that many make overs at that rate. The first make over is fun and exciting. You get a few new outfits, style your hair differently, and your friends show you that you don’t need all that blue eye shadow. The first make over is welcomed. The second make over raises some concerns. Why wasn’t the first make over good enough? I stopped wearing blue eye shadow, was there still something wrong? By the third make over it’s not fun anymore, it’s just insulting. At the time I was convinced that there was something wrong with the way I looked. I never thought of myself as ugly, but I didn’t look like all the other girls in school who had boyfriends and admirers. Perhaps if I grew up in some place in the middle of the country, instead of California, I would have been Homecoming Queen. Basically, what I’m saying is that I had issues with my looks. Shocking, I know. A teenage girl who’s insecure about her looks, who knew? More than my face, I was self conscious about my body. I was bigger than all of my friends. While they were anywhere from a size three to a size seven, I was anywhere from a size nine to a size fifteen. Any time a guy wasn’t into me I believed it was because of my weight. Now maybe for some guys, that wasn’t the case, maybe my weight had nothing to do with it, but I’m sure there were a few guys where having a skinny girlfriend was important to them. While I want to say that guys in high school are douche bags for being that shallow, I can’t, because I was shallow too. Just because I was fat didn’t mean that I didn’t have a certain type of guy I wanted. I think people forget that no matter what you are: fat, ugly, short, tall... we all want someone gorgeous to go out with. I always blamed my weight because according to my friends, my personality was too great to be dismissed. I believed that the guys I liked didn’t want to get romantically involved with me because of the Jack Sprat look we would have a couple.

Recently, I’ve been hearing from friends and family that I need to stop thinking so negatively about my appearance. I understand what they’re saying and where they’re coming from, but it’s so hard to change negative thinking. I just grew up in an environment where my peers tore me down. Senior year I took home economics. It was an easy class and you got to have one of those mechanical babies, they cry and you have to figure out if they need food, or a diaper change, and the baby has a monitor to see how well you did taking care of it. It was pretty cool. Anyway, two of my friends were in my class, Monica, and Jessica. Majority of my friends started having sex when they were sixteen. It was like they all got this memo that read: Go have sex with your boyfriends! And be sure that you make it your number one priority! I turned sixteen; no memo. I was terminally single while my friends would die and wither away if they didn't have a guy to call their own. To me, it seemed like they felt they had a sense of entitlement, as if they were more special than I was because they had a boyfriend. One day at school, for lunch, they decided all the girls would get together to have “Girl Talk.” It was so they could talk about their boyfriends, compare how much their hymens bled on the first time, and to see if anyone was into anything kinky like “Girl on Top.” Well I don’t know if it got that personal, because I wasn’t invited. Only the girls with boyfriends could go, which left me by myself. Cue the “Awwww.”

Alright, stop it, I don’t want your sympathy. But that was bitchy of them to do right? It’s one of the many reasons why I prefer the company of men to women. Perhaps this treatment added to my urgency to find a boyfriend, so I could be like my friends. Anyway, back to home economics class. Monica and Jessica sat fairly close to each other and I was jealous that they got to chat in class all the time. One day I walked by their seats as they were talking and I playfully said to them, “You guys need to stop talking without me.” as I walked back to my seat. Then Jessica said, “Well once you have sex, you can talk about what we’re talking about.” I don’t know what bothered me more, that she said it, or that she said it loud enough for the entire class to hear. Kids in school called her a “slut” and a “whore” a lot and I always defended her. Well, up until then I did. 

How Life Changed at Age 4.

I remember the exact moment when I realized that not everyone was going to like me. I was not quite 5 years old; it was the first day of Kindergarten. My family had just moved to town about a year before, and there were no kids my age on my block, so I went to school knowing no one. I went up to this girl in the playground and I asked her, "Hi, do you want to play with me?" and she said, "No." and walked away.


I was crushed. I had never felt rejection like that before in my life. Actually, I don't think I had ever felt rejection ever. She didn't even know me and she didn't even want to give me a chance! At that point my world and my outlook on life changed. I have a super power of being stubborn and holding grudges. My ability to hold grudges is "super" because it is a quality I get from both sides of my family, and both sides do it so well it would be poetic if it wasn't childish. That girl that denied me playtime was immediately put on my list. I didn't want to have anything to do with her. I remember in the 5th grade, the two of us had to talk to the teacher, or maybe the principal... I can't remember why, but I remember I brought up the fact that on the first day of Kindergarten she didn't want to play with me and the educator said something to the effect of, "That was so long ago, why does that matter now?" Why does it matter? She rejected me! And for no good reason I'm sure!


I really don't remember what type of kid I was before that moment. I think that I was outgoing, and a bit of a tomboy. I only had brothers, and the cousins that lived closed to us were all boys, and even in the neighborhood we had previously lived in, all boys in the neighborhood. Had I not received all that special attention for being the only girl, I probably would have thought I was a boy too. I got a lot of attention for being a girl when I was a kid now that I think about it. On both sides of my family, my generation is very male dominated. On my dad's side I was the only* girl out of all the kids (*That is until I was 5 years old and my sister was born). On my mom's side it was all boys except for me and my cousin Kathy*, and I rarely saw my cousins on my maternal side. (*Lilly joined the ladies team in the late 90's if I'm not mistaken) So as you can see, for those early developmental years, I was adored just for my gender. People loved me- unfortunately, the only people I knew were family. I didn't have friends prior to Kindergarten. Well I did, but not in California. We lived in New York for a few years and I went to pre-school there where, as pictures have shown me, I was friends with an Asian girl from class, and the neighborhood boys I had mentioned before. My dad got laid off, we moved in with my grandparents in Sacramento for a few months until my Dad got back on his feet and we moved to Pacifica. By this time I was 4 and I didn't continue pre-school. I'm guessing because money was tight, but also, what was the point? I would be starting real school that fall. I begged my mom for me to start school early. I have a Fall birthday so I was still 4 when I started school. My mom has always regretted that decision. She thinks that socially, school was too tough for me and had she waited a year I'd be better at being social. Perhaps. But I can't imagine how I would handle myself if I spent 2 years, instead of 1 at home with my mom and brother not interacting with kids my own age. That was really my downfall, not knowing any of the kids- at all! I mean I got there and it was like they all got this memo about school and I just showed up by accident. Some kids went to pre-school together, some we neighbors, and some were family, which blew my mind. You live in the same town as your cousins?! It was such a weird concept to me. ANYWAY... 


Where was I? I've rambled again haven't I? I had written this with the point of my first rejection and how it changed my perspective on life being the main focus of this blog- but now I'm intrigued by this whole, "I was adored for being the only girl for the first 5 years of my life" thing.


I think that I miss being adored for just simply being a girl. I admit I get annoyed when I'm out with my guy friends and they talk about how hot another girl is not only in front of me, but to me. Friends, if you're reading this- Please don't do that. Unless I am willingly trying to be your wingman- don't talk to me about how you think another girl is really hot. All that makes me think is that I am not hot in the least. It's not that I'm even trying to hook up with my friends and that's why I want them to stop that- it's just that I want everyone to think I'm attractive. I think everyone wants that. I don't think I've ever been hanging out with my guy friends and pointed out another guy* to them and talk about how hot he is. (*Jon Hamm and Jake Gyllenhaal are the exceptions. Also straight up asking me if I think someone is hot; I'm not responsible if you provoke it, and I accept the same rules on my end) 


My brother's birthdays are about a week apart, so one year my mom combined their parties. One was turning 7, the other 2. This was the Spring before I started Kindergarten, and my mom was pregnant with my sister- so technically, still the only girl- I think my parents kept my sister's gender a surprise. ANYWAY... this party was awesome because I got presents too. My aunt brought me presents so that I wouldn't feel so left out that both my brothers got presents and I didn't. I was so spoiled. I remember I got a wooden looking bracelet and a Little Mermaid baseball hat. I think me being a girl helped too. Boys are expected to deal with shit, but girls- aw they're fragile. They must be sheltered and coddled. (By the way I just want you to know that I accidentally typed "cobbled" instead of "coddled" and that, to me, is a hilarious typo.)


 No one prepared me for the real world when I was 4 years old. No one said, "Hey, just a heads up- not everyone is going to like you." But then again, how do you tell that to a 4 year old? What would I have said if someone did? 
"Why wouldn't someone like me? Do I smell?" 
 "No, you don't smell"
"Then what? Am I not cool?"
"No... you're 4 years old, no one is cool when they are 4 years old."
"Then what? What is it?"


And the thing is- there is no answer when dealing with kids that young! If you asked that girl why she didn't want to play with me, her answer could have very well been, "Cause I don't." She probably didn't have a reason. And why weren't the boys in Kindergarten huddled all around me waiting to ask me to play with them? I'm a GIRL! I had a good thing going in New York. All the neighborhood boys played with me when I was in New York (I realize how that sentence makes me sound like a trashy 4 year old, but you know that's not what I meant... right? RIGHT?!) Apparently, some asshole boy decided that girls were icky and that we were not fit to play with and told the other boys about this. Oh you'll regret that decision someday boys, oh yes you will.


Now, I eventually found someone to play with me that first day of school, but I never forgot how that rejection to my invite felt. Perhaps that was my trauma at an early age. (Sorry, I've been listening to a lot of Dr. Drew lately.) It's obviously not as horrible as what some kids have to go through, thank God- but think about it. I keep putting myself in situations in which I face rejection. (Dr. Drew says that you become attracted to what hurt you when you were a child. ie: a child that was abused attract men who abuse when they're older.) All throughout middle school and high school I'd ask out guys that had no interest in me. (Oh so much rejection). And now! I'm a stand up comedian. I don't know if an audience is going to like me. And auditioning for festivals, competitions, gigs- all have the potential for rejection! HOLY SHIT! I am on to something here! I have spent the last 20 years seeking the approval I never got from a classmate.


Well now that I've figured that out... what the hell am I supposed to do with that information? Eh, I guess I'll try to make a joke out of it... and hope everyone likes me for it.

Adventures in LA Comedy

Jason and I have been in Southern California all week. Traveling by car while disabled has it's pros & cons. Pro: Handicapped Parking Placard. This thing is AMAZING. My walking is very limited by my cast and so having the placard is so helpful! Not only can I park close, but I can park at meters and not pay them, and park in timed parking areas for as long as I want. It's pretty cool and definitely helpful in a busy city like LA. Con: MY LEG IS IN A DAMN CAST! It's uncomfortable to just exist, let alone exist in a car for multiple hours at a time. The sleeping situation hasn't been as horrible as I thought it would be. With the exception of a few nights in a motel- we've been sleeping on couches of my friends (Thanks MARK & HEATH! So helpful and so accommodating!) Actually what's really bothering me is the hours we're spending at Starbucks catching up on our Facebook and emails as we try to write something, anything, like this blog right now. My foot needs to be elevated, on a pillow or something soft, and not all Starbuck's facilities can provide me with that. But enough about that... I have pain pills for that...

So LA has been... weird. Our first day here, an English guy at a Starbucks approached me and told me I was beautiful. He wasn't hitting on me (I don't think) but just wanted me to know that I was beautiful. TAKE NOTE FELLAS! It's not like I was in a shitty mood before this European stranger came over to our table, but it was definitely a confidence booster! And this guy wasn't creepy at all. (Please take note of that too! Don't be creepy about it!) He was very polite, asked Jason if he was my boyfriend as to not step over any boundaries, and then BAM! Compliment! The best part of this was that I wasn't wearing any make up and had sat in a car for 6 hours. I definitely have a lot of issues with my appearance. I honestly don't think I'm the kind of girl that make guys look twice. I don't think I'm bad looking, I just believe that when out in public, and there are other women around, I'm not anyone's first choice of someone they'd like to get to know. Basically, what I'm saying is that my mysterious British man made me feel really good about myself and left me smiling the rest of the day.

That night we were booked to do a show by a friend of ours at 930. We were asked to bring as many friends as we could to watch the show. I'm horrible at getting people to see me. I don't know what it is about me, but I have friends from school that for the last 4 years have said they want to see me perform, and I tell them when and where, and they never follow through. I send event updates and messages and I'm lucky if I can get a "maybe" reply on facebook; which is really just a polite "no." A "yes" response is a polite "maybe." Anybody that replies "no" is just being honest. ANYWAY. I'm not a bringer. We got to the show around 7pm and found some people we knew. We found out that there was an open mic before the booked show, so we signed up for it. I mean, why not get some extra stage time in to practice some newer material? Long story short- the "open mic" ran until 11pm. I had some girl I went to school with show up with some friends and they WERE the audience. I didn't get on stage for the open mic until about 10pm, and I only got up when I did because my friends shouted to the host, "We want KELLY!" The host was a dick to me and Jason. He kept telling Jason he was next, and didn't put him on until almost last. The booked show started almost 2 hours late! It was super unprofessional and the open mic host was a royal ass to us. Just because he didn't know who Jason & I were didn't mean he had to treat us like shit. After my set, the host said, "You know what your friends are gonna say after this? 'You were the best one'." And I quickly replied, "Cause it's true." What an asshole. He thinks I brought people to tell me I'm good. Fuck that guy. I was good because I AM FUCKING Good. I don't like to sound egotistical but damnit I certainly was the funniest one there. We left shortly after both Jason and I performed. We were not staying for the "booked" show. Another person left the show and told me I was right- I was the best one there. THANK YOU STRANGER! Validation is always welcomed! I left the show that night having a very low opinion of the comedy scene in LA, that being my first time performing here and all.

Okay, so maybe that was a long story long... My bad.

The next night Jason and I were booked for a show at The Ice House in Pasadena. It was being recording for Comedy Time TV (Comedytime.tv ... it'll be up on the site in about 90 days I think) and we had to do 8 clean, family friendly minutes of jokes. The place was SOLD OUT! It was packed. Close to 200 people in there! It was amazing. The laughter was so loud and hard from the crowd I thought I was physically going to be pushed back a few steps from it all, like an incredible gust of wind in a storm. It was fantastic. Every joke hit! The crowd laughed so genuinely and long that it was really hard for me to not laugh with them. They were truly entertained. It was incredible. And I got a sweet DVD out of it. The polar opposite of the previous night.

The rest of the week has been alright. We haven't had too many shows to do. We were late for a sign up of an open mic and couldn't get on, and it was really hard to find shows to do on the weekend. We've been enjoying the sun and sights of San Diego this weekend. Well we did an open mic in San Diego, and it went well- tried out some new premises which has me excited that I have new premises to even try. Spent Saturday on a boat touring the San Diego Bay, and Sunday at the ball park where we watched the Giants beat the Padres and I got completely sunburned- yes I applied sun screen... apparently you have to keep applying it if you're at a baseball game for 11 innings.

We're back in LA trying to get up at the Comedy Store. It's a "lottery" to get on the open mic, but I've been told that the fact that I'm a girl can help my chances in getting on the show. I'm also not opposed to using my cast for sympathy points either. Hey! I drove hundreds of miles to get here to perform- I'm gonna take everything I can get.

I keep wondering if I could live here. It's beautiful. Traffic sucks. More comics wanting stage time. It seems like moving to LA for comedy would be like transferring schools, except you don't transfer to the same grade you're in now... you transfer and have to go back to Kindergarten. I still retain all my knowledge from my years of school, so I wouldn't have to work as hard as I did before... but I think everyone's going to look at me and treat me like a 5 year old, until I can prove to them that I know a few things.

Disabled

So I went back to the doctors, got a second MRI done on my foot and the diagnosis- still hella inflamed. Okay, so those may not be his exact words, but you get what I'm saying. The fact that I have to stand for 8 hours with my day job wasn't helping the healing process of my foot. So to make sure this thing heals for sure, I was given a shot of cortisone (OUCH) and a cast on my leg for four weeks. I thought about it for a while whether or not I should take a disability leave from work, weighing the positive and the negatives and I felt that since I'm not paying rent right now anyways, staying at my parent's house, then I should take the disability and let myself heal completely. After I got the cast on, it was clear that I made the right decision. There's no way I can stand for eight hours a day, I can barely walk around.

ANYWAY

So I'm out of work for 4 weeks. Wow I'm actually on summer break. How funny. I haven't had a summer break since I was in high school, and even then I worked part time. I really want to take advantage of this time I have to write something. I haven't been very disciplined with writing. I want to make a good goal to have and I think I've come up with one.

I've always have wanted to write a one woman show in which I explore how different women feel about their bodies and their appearances- do like 10-12 different character monologues. It really does get to exercise not only my writing, but my character work. I get to be funny with some, and dramatic with other, and just real and honest about a topic that I believe everyone can relate to.

It was either that, or I spend the 4 weeks working on jigsaw puzzles.

LOOK AT ME!!!

Am I too selfish in wanting everyone to know me? I want everyone to want me, without necessarily wanting them in return. Is this just how I think, or does everyone feel that way? I mean, I know we all want to be wanted by that "special someone" but I want everyone to admire me, be in awe of me, want me to know that they too exist in my world. God, that sounded so snobbish, but that's exactly how I've felt my entire life. Perhaps that mentality is what entertainers are made of. Ever since I was a little kid I wanted everyone to know who I was and what I'm capable of doing. Wanting to shine might just be my greatest strength and weakness. As a kid I'd do whatever I could to be in the spotlight. I did school talent shows; I would always volunteer to speak in front of the class for group projects; I even signed up to carry the cross to the altar at the beginning of mass despite the agony I felt being at church. Whatever I could do to get an audience, I would do it. I just want to be seen and heard, and not in the way my generation wants to be seen and heard either. I mean, nowadays its all reality shows and social networks, "ooh look at me! I have a baby!" I get it... someone fucked you. I'm not looking for people to just stare at me in my everyday life- I want people to see my work. I want them to come to my shows and hear my jokes; go online and watch my videos; read this blog; download my podcast. I feel like I'm capable of so much greatness and if I just had the resources and the audience to back me up, the possibilities would be limitless for me.

I don't think I'm egotistical. I feel like I have a good grip on reality. But everyone in the entertainment industry has to have some ego to get anywhere in this business, otherwise why bother? If you don't think you are good, then why should anyone else? I feel I'm a good judge of myself and my work. I know when a joke does poorly, and I know when one does superbly well. My parents are probably to thank for that. They raised me with this mentality of "You can be whatever you want to be... unless that thing is a dancer, cause you don't have rhythm, but we'll still come to your dance recitals." They were, and still are, encouraging, supportive, yet real with me. They've seen me perform stand up many times and I remember one night, at a comedy competition, I didn't do so great. I had an off night. My mom asked me how I thought I did, and I told her, "It didn't suck, but it wasn't my best." and she said, "Yeah, it wasn't your best. We voted for you of course, but we voted for Dan too- we really liked Dan." I believe Dan did move on that round, and I didn't, as I shouldn't have. My parents didn't hurt my feelings, they were honest and supportive. Quite a blessing to have.

ANYWAY- I feel like I've rambled, it's 230am and I'm not sure how to end this mess of a blog. GOODNIGHT.