Well, it’s official… I talk to myself. Constantly. It’s not as bad as it sounds… Okay, well maybe it is.
To be perfectly honest, I have always been an accomplished self-talker. I remember staring at myself in the mirror as a teenager… Uh, wait… I mean, child, I was little, definitely not a teenager, cause that would be embarrassing… Anyway, I would stare at myself in the mirror and recite dramatic monologues that I made up and practice crying on command. “No… No, the doctor said I only have six months to live… But I will prove him wrong. I will survive!!! Because I… I… I love you!!! Boo hoo hoo, waaaaah, tear, tear, wrinkled up sad face.” End scene.
Who knew that my ridiculous bathroom cry monologues would serve me later in life? Serve is a relative term, mind you… I have been practicing my stand up comedy by talking out loud to myself and trying not to be embarrassed by it. I have to admit, I am much, much worse than I thought I would be. I get so damn nervous that my voice comes out all tight and I sound exactly like I did when I said the special prayer at my high school graduation (yes, they let La Diabla say the prayer at graduation… I can’t explain it. Fools! Muah ha ha ha!!!). This is when I’m alone, what am I going to do with a room full of people?!?
“Hi, my name is Mandy and I’m 31 years old. If you can believe it, this is my first time doing this.” Oh my God, how humiliating, I am the most ridiculous person in the world!!! That’s it!!! That is absolutely it, I can’t do this in front of people. I’ll die. Everyone will feel sorry for me.” That’s my inner monologue. Comforting, isn’t it?
As the date closes in on me, I have been feeling a little frantic. I have been writing bits like a mad woman in my notebook… Breaking out in random cold sweats… I have been doing weird things… For instance, I created a stand up comedy kit for myself… It includes a wire whisk, my notebook, and a glass of wine.
The notebook: Contains my “amazing” comedy bits and other extremely weird stuff I’m glad nobody else has ever seen.
The wire whisk: Of course, is the perfect substitute for a microphone. I have spent an alarming number of hours of my life singing into a wire whisk, just ask my Mom.
The glass of wine: To calm the nerves… Perhaps I should make it a whole bottle?
Considering the amount of butterflies I get in my stomach when I picture myself onstage in the comedy club with only my (questionable) wit and a (real) microphone, I’m thinking of adding a shot of tequila to the kit. Tequila has butterfly-killing properties, right???
So, if you see me in my car with no passenger having a conversation, you know why… I’m just honing my skills.
I hope haven’t confirmed all of your fears that I am, in fact, barely holding onto sanity.
I also hope that you all have a wonderful week! Thank you so much for taking your time and reading my silly little blog, it means the world to me!!!