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There have got to be people with bigger legs out there than me. How can they fit in cars? When your legs are tan you can at least try to trick yourself into thinking that they have a protective layer over them. Not with my rice sticks. They glow a color white that can normally only be seen in a laboratory. If I wanted to be in a monster movie instead of in a bathing suit next to my tan sister.

You can always drape a towel over yourself. A couple of years ago I was sitting at my internship trying to think of ways to better myself. I decided to look into stand up classes. I signed up for a class at Westside Comedy Theater and began a journey that has taken me to stages in New York, Los Angeles and most recently an horrendous open mic night at a small coffee shop on Sunset.

I am not good at stand up and this is my story. My relationship with stand up has been bumpy lots of lows with a couple middles. I was part of a group of comics that would perform regularly on campus and meet once a week as a sort of writers group. Sure, our shows might not have had much of an audience, but I was getting up and trying new things all of which I have since deleted any record of.

Once I graduated, things became harder. When you are starting as a comic you have to bring a certain amount of people as audience members in order to get stage time. In my experience, popularity rarely fuels wit since there is no need for it. A little over a year ago, I hit my comic low, which is saying something since comics are rarely happy. They were my only audience members. Fast forward, I stopped doing stand up for about a year.

Some might call this giving up. They would be right. I had a variety of excuses. I was too busy. My job conflicted with all the open mics. In reality, I was too scared. Stand up brings the most instant rejection of any art form. You have to wait to read a review to know if your play or movie or art show sucks.

You can also read about it by yourself, crying in your bathroom. When you tell jokes to a live audience you know within one second if you are bombing.

Sometimes two if your joke is a thinker. And then you have to keep going. Especially since my manager has represented amazing comics and it would just be plain lazy of me not to give it a real go.

If I somehow put together an amazing set, he will know what to do with it. Now comes the difficult part. Putting together that amazing set. The more I think about that idea, the more it appeals to me. Another day, another audition. Even if I do really badly the end result will still be the same i. The one aspect that makes this audition stand out is that it is for the Disney Channel. For years, people have been literally going out of their way to tell me that I look young.

A year ago I was showing my mother my college graduation photo at the airport and a stranger ask if he could see them this should have been clue one that he was not to be trusted.

Despite knowing that it was my college graduation photo, the ballsy man asked if I was This person would rather believe that I was a genius who graduated 6 years early than that I was actually my age. I understand that I look young. I think many thoughts about the people I interact with but almost all of them I keep to myself.

I never say to a nosy saleslady, I think you are too old to pull of that look. Because that would be a mean and unwelcome opinion. Just like when the lady at the nail salon told me I had hairy arms when I was ten years old. I have had a lot of bad experiences at nail salons. I broke three bones before the age of twelve. More importantly, what if my face makes a switch before I can really cash in on looking young? I already have deeper laugh lines than all my friends.

The most ironic part- apologies irony police if this is not the proper use of the word- I am not being called in to read for a high schooler. Looks like the time has come for me to play the part of a young genius. Who am I kidding? They are going to laugh at my failed attempt to look business professional. It would really be a big step up in my career. This morning I was faced with a familiar but unwelcome question: what the hell am I going to write about today? I sometimes sit here wondering if I have to pee just so I have an excuse to get up.

Oh, excuse me. Did I call it a diary? I meant blog. I just call it a diary in my head to make myself feel better about its lack of readership.

The hard part is that in addition to this daily post, I need to actually come up with a television show that will be a great vehicle for my comedic voice and propel me into success. I have to actually dig deep inside myself and find a story worth telling.

I met with my old screenwriting professor yesterday for coffee and he encouraged me to find the story only I can tell. This was after I basically pleaded with him for any possible advice. I need to put my own spin on a twenty-something girl struggling her way through life. When I was younger and battling with depression, I took solace in the fact that I was experiencing life in a different way from my peers. Sure, it was an unhappy, highly medicated life, but it least it had some bite to it.

Is OCD still hip or has it been overdone? Would a struggling writer be an appealing character or is that too insider Hollywood? Can I just do a show where I just repeat all the funny things my family has said?

Oh wait, I already wrote that one and no one wanted it. It simply has a distinct and unusual view of the world. The Ranchero Special at Senor Tequila will finish this year as my go-to meal. When the chef found out, she whipped us up some pasta with pesto and chicken, and then sent out a warm brownie with an ice cream scoop on top.

It sounds like the kind of simple culinary exercise I would throw together for my toddler, but the meal was surprisingly dynamic and indulgent. I spent three years as a vegetarian.

If juicy meat is a thing to you, go eat this sandwich. Fried chicken, two strips of bacon, a fried egg, and ranch dressing on a bed of lettuce; fried Brussels sprouts drizzled with honey.

What did you have for lunch, Dear? Finding a decent place to eat on the road between Little Rock and Northwest Arkansas presents a constant problem. Russellville is a culinary wasteland. Back in February I stopped in for the lunch special, which I thought was a classic meat-and-two-veggies setup. No no. Serious comfort food.

Surprise indeed! All sections Close sections. Arkansas Blog. Rock Candy. Eat Arkansas. To Read. Long Form. It was fun to see them all interacting with each other.

It was precious. But eventually he ended up reading to himself. Little Brother has become highly interested in Big Brother. Gus was mad at me for making him turn off Octonauts so we could go to school, so I tried to win him over by letting him check in on Dino World for a second, even though we only had seven minutes to get to school.

The usual. Except Tango the cat heard his people the Grummers and came down to join us. After school today, Gus decided it was his dino world. In the photo, you can see little specks of color throughout Dino World that are his dinosaurs.

I love the idea of turning this little patch into a kind of open-air faux terrarium. We had tacos for lunch at the Grummers , then played for a while. After playing all day together, Gus and Rhett got tired and stopped getting along so well. Usually, I end up carrying Gus home while he kicks and screams and cries, or he sprints away from me when I ask him to help clean up toys. Despite the poor end, it was a good day. We invited the Grummers over for dinner today — Mom made carnitas stew.

We ate on the back deck and then put the big kids on a pallet in the living room to watch a movie Horton Hears a Who , I think. So I took him upstairs and put him to bed. Rolled down to Frisco with the new class of the Garver Video Team Darla, Bronson , and Ryan , all of whom we hired less than four months ago.