Category Archives: Stalking Amy Sedaris

I think I got a pig heart in the mail. UPDATE: No, it’s a dog sleeping bag.

I know I said I’d have more info on the People’s Party today but apparently I’m a big fat liar.  Instead I’m going to show you a screenshot of my email.  Please keep in mind that all of these emails are from real people and are not spam. (Click to enlarge.)

Also, I just got a package from the girl who sent the email with the subject line “Pig heart in the mail”.  I’m afraid to open it so I’m going to post this and if I don’t post an update it’s probably because I’m dead.  

PS. I want to be buried in a giant pile of marshmallows instead of a coffin because it’s cheaper and also ecologically sound.  And mourners could eat them while they mourn and no one can cry eating marshmallows and someone would do that thing where they try to stick the most marshmallows in their mouth and they’d choke to death and then I could be buried with that person, like I’m some kind of marshmallow pharaoh.  Also I’d like to have a pony buried with me in case they don’t have cars in heaven.

UPDATE:  Opened the first layer of packaging.  Contains brown paper packages tied up with string.  Except the brown paper packages have robots drawn on them.

UPDATE 2:  First package contains buttons with angry lego crossdressers on them.  Also a bag to put dirty underwear in.  True story. 

UPDATE 3:  Opened the second package from pig-heart lady.  It’s a sleeping bag for Barnaby Jones.  And it’s awesome.  For me.  He hates it.

UPDATE 4:  Fuck.  It’s a duvet, which apparently means “bed cover”.  So I’m supposed to stick old underwear and towels in the first sack and then put the duvet over it and it makes a dog bed.  Which is awesome.  Except that I don’t have any old towels or underwear.

UPDATE 5:  I mean, I have underwear…just not enough to fill an entire dog duvet with.

UPDATE 6:  Problem solved.  I stuffed the duvet with a car battery.  Awesome.

UPDATE 7:  Dog refused to get on duvet.  Instead I stuffed the duvet with bag of wire hangers I was going to send back to the cleaners.

UPDATE 8:  This dog is an asshole.

UPDATE 9:  Okay, I took all the hangers out and when I walked back in the room the dog had put himself back in the bag. He looks very proud of himself.  The cats are giving me a look like “we totally warned you”.  They totally didn’t.  These cats are assholes too.

UPDATE 10:  Me: I HAVE NOTHING TO PUT IN THIS DUVET TO MAKE IT LOOK NORMAL.  Victor:  How about the dog’s old bed?  Me:  I hate everyone in this house.

Comment of the day: Look at that poor dog. If ever a dog needed Snuggie sleeves. ~ Steam me up, kid

Drunk algebra

So I said I’d write more Blogher stuff but I’m easily distracted and can’t fit in all of the wonderful people I met or missed or drunk-dialed and so instead I’m just going to skip to the part where I tell you the things I didn’t do.  Like how I totally didn’t force Evany to give me her autograph while I babbled about the time I gave a non-plussed Amy Sedaris a love letter with pictures I’d drawn of her holding my (now dead) cat.  And how I totally did not crawl over to a semi-conscious Amalah in Macy’s pantyhose section and start anxiously rambling away about the time I passed out on top of my cat at the vet’s office and woke up on the floor with my shirt ripped open and two paramedics and a bunch of dogs looking down at me because that?  Would be ridiculous.  Who would do that?!  Not me.  Also, I did not share a toilet seat with Mocha Momma or stick pregnant barbies in my boobs.   Singing Little Mermaid songs in the men’s bathroom and attempting to use the urinals?  No.  Stop it.  You’re embarrassing yourself. 


In fact, one of the only things that I’ll admit to doing at Blogher was the community keynote address and the real, professional video has finally come out so I’m posting all the links here so you can hear them all.  Watch them.  It will remind you why you got into blogging in the first place:  Random sex with strangers.  The amazing power of a life story.

Eden and Sarah
Megan (Haven’t seen her video pop up yet but here’s her post.)
Mr. Lady
Stephanie and Zan and Casey
Doug and Polly
Lindsay and Yvonne
Evany and Deb on the Rocks

Also, I just want to clear up two things.  First of all, when I say I’m an “addict” in my keynote I’m referring to being addicted to blogging, not drugs.  I should have been more clear but I was a little high terrified.

Secondly, I’m going to make a t-shirt that says “I’m not as drunk as you think I am”.  Because I’m not. Mostly because I can’t afford that much booze.  Besides that, people think I’m drunk even when I’m dead sober because I’m filterless and stupid and fall a lot and so I basically have what I call “the three-drink handicap”.  Everyone else in the world after 3 cocktails = me just waking up.   Then I have one shot and I’m technically only slightly buzzed but with my three-drink-handicap I appear to others to be reaching the choke-to-death-on-my-own-vomit stage and bartenders stop serving me.  Which is probably why I started getting calls from people after blogher asking if I would come to an intervention if they threw one for me, to which I replied, “What will you be serving?”  In retrospect that might not have been the best answer but in my defense I was drunk.   Also, I’m not sure they said they would  “throw me” an intervention as much as they implied they would tie me to my bed until the D.T.’s passed but my way sounds nicer.  Mainly because it seems like something that would involve confetti and tiny napkins.  I’m not proving my point here very well but just take my word for it that I am less of a dangerous alcoholic and more of an entertaining cheap date who drinks lots during terrifying social situations and not much otherwise.   In fact, last week I only had one inch of alcohol (for charity!) and absolutely no crack at all so when you take into account my three-drink-handicap I’m actually in the negative and am now subtracting drinks I had at blogher.  

I’m no mathematologist but I’m pretty sure that’s how algebra works. 

Comment of the day: George Bush is sober. Need I say more. ~ Always home and uncool

Almost exactly like Amy Sedaris

I’m sure you remember the many posts I wrote about loving Amy Sedaris, wooing Amy Sedaris, and being harshly dumped by Amy Sedaris and really I’m sure we’ve all had just about enough of f*cking Amy Sedaris.   But just as I was ready to admit that Amy and I were possibly not going to end up being bff’s I noticed that Lotta posted some videos of Amy Sedaris making balls on Martha Stewart and I realized that Amy was wearing almost exactly the same Heidi-esque frock that I own. Which means the stalking?  Is totally back on.





I can only assume her naughty nurse outfit was at the cleaners.  I hate it when that happens.

PS.  I look way skinnier in this picture than I actually am because my elbow fat is creating an optical illusion.  Yay for fat making me look skinny!  The apocalypse is nigh!

On the outs with Amy Sedaris

Dear Amy Sedaris:

It has been two weeks since I gave you my phone number and you decided I wasn’t dangerous enough to respond to.  But it’s no big deal.  It never could have worked out between us anyway.

First of all, I was looking at what you wrote in my book at your booksigning and I’ve realized that there’s a big difference between what you actually wrote


…and what I now believe you actually meant, which I assume is:

“No really, I’m soooo fucking sorry that I had to hear that scathingly boring story of some lunatic’s husband’s emergency gallbladder surgery.  What does this have to do with me again?  Oh yeah, nothing.  I wonder what my pet rabbit is doing right now?  Probably pooping.  Or having little rabbity dreams.  Or having sex.  God, that rabbit gets around.  I wonder if I should have her checked for VD.  Oh Lord, loonie’s still talking.  What is this she’s handing me?  A love letter with pictures of me and her cat on it? Oh that’s helpful.  Someone call security.”

Secondly, Amy, I fucking hate cupcakes.  I know in my letter to you I said there was nothing better, but what I really meant to say was that “there’s nothing better than a too-small, unsatisfying cake that’s been baked in a bag of paper, unless it’s basically anything else in the world.”  Like maybe a sandwich filled with broken glass and hair, that would be better.

Anyway, I can’t believe that I wasted all that time at Blogher listening to the static-filled feedback from the bug I planted on you when I could have been focusing on throwing myself at Chloe Dao, who didn’t even laugh at me when I drunkenly cut off a chunk of my own hair in front of her at a cocktail party.  (True story.)


Anyway, no hard feelings.  I hope you and your filthy gonorrhea rabbit are very happy together.


PS.  Do you know Chloe?  Because if you could get me in with her I’d be willing to destroy the audio of you using the toilet that I may or may not have been playing at parties.

Back off, bitches

This weekend I met my idol Amy Sedaris and we totally had a connection.  Click to here to see the love letter I gave her:


 Check out Mama Drama to see the emotional response I got from Amy as she received the letter (plus drunken photos of bloggers, as requested) today.

PS.  Many people at the Blogher convention were under the impression that I’m paid by the Houston Chronicle for my Mama Drama blog.  I just wanted to set the record straight…I am not paid for blogging.  I do it because I have a passion for writing.  One that expresses itself in photos of bloated Princess Bride cast members and stories about peeing through shoe boxes.