$h!t happens!

A while ago, I was walking through a store and an old man - probably in his late 70's - walked past me and just let it rip. His flatulence went on for so long that I stood there expecting his intestines to just tumble out, but no. He just looked up, sort of grimaced and carried along his way, as if no one around had just heard his blowhole explode.

While this moment could have easily just been chalked up to an extra spicy burrito from the Taco Bell, it made me start to think about age. We start life not caring about what people think about our bodily functions and essentially, we end life in a similar manner. Babies will cry, burp, pee, poop, spit and not blink with worry. Old people seemingly do the same. However, somewhere along the way, in the middle phases of life, we develop a shy nature or a sense of shame about the things that expel from our bodies and I, for one, am 'effin grateful.

(Constipated face is somehow adorable when your age is calculated in months.)

Then, a couple of weeks ago, I was on my early morning walk into work and I called home to talk to my mom. When she answered she told me that she was in the bathroom helping my 22-month-old nephew, use the potty. She explained that he was constipated and having a hard time going. In most normal conversations, when someone brings up defecation, one tends to hang up or gag. In this case though, I said, "Aww, put him on the phone!" and the call went like this...

(Please note that as you read this conversation, do so in obnoxious baby talk voice)

Me: "Hi Jayden - are you going potty?"
Jayden: "Uh huh..."
Me: "Does it hurt?"
Jayden: "Yes!"
Me: "Aww, baby - it'll be ok. Just push a little. Come on, you're a big boy!"
Jayden: Grunts.
Me: "Did you get it? Did you do it? That's a good boy! I'm proud of you!"

(When you gotta go, you gotta go!)

My mom got back on the phone, explained that Jayden was all good and we said goodbye. As I hung up the phone, I realized that I was smiling with a sense of accomplishment. And then, I realized that I had just talked someone through a shit. I was like an emergency phone operator for bowel movements and I didn't know how to feel about that. I have always been so prudish when it came to things of that nature and yet there I stood, in the middle of a busy, city street, giving someone pointers on one of life's most basic functions.

(Thank you for calling 911, what's your emergency? Ok, you've gotta # 2? Ok, ma'am - ma'am, I'm gonna need you to calm down! We aren't going to get anywhere if you don't relax yourself into this!)

So, as I continue to ponder the spectrum of life and the ups and downs that come with bodily functions, I've decided that sometimes "poop happens" and I need to just learn to roll with it. If Jayden ever needs another "Constipation Coach", I will be there baby-talking him all the way through it (up until the age of 4 - beyond that, he is on his own!) but, I do hope I never encounter another hot-winded, elderly man!

(Have you read my book yet? If not, check it out here!)

Humble, thy name is Edmund

This past week, I said "damn you, Southern Hemisphere winter" and I exchanged my over-sized coat and chilly air for flip-flops and some sunshine as I headed to the far north of Australia to the state of Queensland. In January, I was fortunate enough to earn a spot on a work trip in which we were able to spend time working in the local indigenous community, while also taking part in a personal development program for a week.

In the personal development program, we went through a series of exercises, one of which was an assessment of 250 or so questions that would be used to show us our top five character strengths. All of my top traits ranked equally at 4.8 out of 5 and they were: humor, honesty, social intelligence, perspective and the most confusing of all, humility.

(Sorting out a playground for the local community with my project team.)

In the description of "humility" it said, "of all the potential 25 results, humility is the one that is most rarely found as a key strength and should truly be appreciated." However, there is an issue. How can I brag about being humble without therefore negating my ability to be humble? It places me in a weird position. Do I keep my humility to myself and wait for the day in which someone calls me "humble" and then blurt out, "OMG - I know! I took an in-depth personal assessment and it told me that I am and that I am rare and special!" or do I just let it go?

(A koala humbling eating some eucalyptus.)

After spending days pondering my humble nature, the program ended and I decided to stick around the area for a few days and explore the Great Barrier Reef. This was my third time going and, with good reason. The previous two times, I vomited like a high schooler who had had one too many wine coolers underneath the football bleachers and I longed to prove to myself that it wouldn't happen again. Long story, short - I failed. The waves on the way out were insane. As the boat swung and swayed in the water, my face turned a whiter shade of Caucasian and I was sweating more than a hooker in church. I tried to maintain my composure but as the moment finally arrived, I ran to the toilet and re-enacted a scene from "The Exorcist" with sheer perfection.

Once I wiped my mouth clean on my jacket, I decided that I had to get in the water. By this time, the rain had kicked in hardcore but I begrudgingly put on my wetsuit. It was so tight that when I went to zip it up, along came the leftover remnants of blueberry muffin and dignity that still remained in my stomach. The trip was epic(ly horrific). From swollen, teary eyes to breath that could kill a dragon, I was over it. Nonetheless, I digress. I am grateful for the experience (I laughed, I cried, I vomited, I cried, I drooled, I vomited, I vomited again) but I have vowed that I shall never see the Great Barrier Reef again. So, goodbye reef - I humbly bid you adieu.

(A view from the sky of Hastings Reef in the Great Barrier Reef.)

Want to inject a little humor (it is one of my top traits, after all) into your life? Check out my first ever book here!

Stand-Up? I think I'd rather sit, thanks.

Ok, so the stuff written below is literally my first, offensive, stream of conscience attempt at writing for my stand up performance. I get it - some of the stuff is really inappropriate and I apologize in advance but it's all just part of the process. It's just a creative outline to get out the crazy - so, simmer down and look away now if you are feeling judgemental today.

You know, it’s funny that I am even up here doing this because I hate public speaking. I hate it. Weeks in advance before it’s coming, I start to get the twinges of anxiety. I’ll be lying in bed, start to sweat a little and then instantly run to my safe place in the shower. There’s something about getting in the shower that literally washes away the stress of the day.  It’s also a great place to cry. It’s the perfect place actually, it’s tiny…most of the time you get to be alone, unless you have a really insecure gym session and need a quick emotional pick-me-up in a public shower. As the water streams down your face and mixes with the tears – you don’t have to admit to yourself that you’re crying. I don’t know if it’s tears or water running down my face and that leaves me feeling a little bit more secure about who I am as a person.

So, needless to say, I am super clean tonight because I have had literally 4 showers today and I will tell you that I have purged so much emotion about tonight. When I jumped in the shower earlier, I was nervous, scared, insecure but I stayed in so long that as the hot water started to run cold, I became intrigued, excited and quite erect. I mean, it’s just one of those things that happens in a shower. It’s natural. So, after, quite literally, beating my nervousness away – I’m here tonight with you fine people! Woooooo.

It’s funny though – so, I sign up for this comedy course, I mean, I paid to be here. I paid to conquer this fear - for this torture. But, I never gave the end result much thought until right now, as I feel my knees shaking and just a tiny dribble of urine streaming down my thigh. And, it’s stupid, right? The class is called “stand up comedy” -  obviously it implies that I will, at some point, have to speak in public and, not only that, I’ll have to be funny. 

So, while I am up here trying to be witty…I’m trying to do all the tricks people teach you about public speaking – pretend that your talking to only one person in the room, focus on a light in the back, imagine all of you naked. But, the problem with the last one is that I have an extreme body hair phobia – like, when I moved into my current apartment the former tenant was a female with long, jet-black hair and after 6 months, there are still f-cking full grow, Addam’s Family Cousin It hairs that walk out of the shower sometimes. And, I don’t know if you have looked around the room tonight but a lot of you here, I’m gonna be honest, look like extras from The Hobbit. So, God knows what sort of Sasquatch/Bigfoot kind of coat of hair you got going on below the belt. 

In reality though, I am panicked about this performance but I’m doing this because trying “stand up” is a dream of mine. I know, right? How f-cking sad is that? My life’s dream has been to stand on a makeshift stage in front of a bunch of drunks and wait to be harassed. But, it’s personal for me…because it reminds of my childhood. When I was around 4 or 5, I remember walking through the smoke-filled club as people were drinking and laughing and I’d look up and see my mom. She had the crowd in the palm of her hand as she lingered on all fours, gyrating to a Bon Jovi song, and as she clinched a 5 dollar bill between her teeth, I thought, “one day – I want to feel that level of shame”. And, here I am. 

So, anyways – we’ve been taking this class for the last month and delving into what makes us funny and there are moments when I would just stare blankly at the paper. Not one funny thought would enter my brain while the other students were being witty, funny, clever and every time the teacher, Rob asked us to come up with a line – my mind instantly went straight to the gutter. Like, I get that crudeness can be funny and it is necessary to humor but how many times can one person internally laugh at the term “fisting” before he really starts to question who he is. Like, I get that a lot of people are into it and by the amount of bruised hands and limping people here tonight – I’d assume this crowd has an above-average ratio. But, it’s generally not socially acceptable to discuss. But, for me, I like to roll with the punches and tackle the hard hitting topics.

It's like, you know when someone runs up to you and goes, “OMG – you’ll never guess what happened to me?” I always want to respond, with the same level of excitement, “You got fisted?” and just wait to see their response. Because the thing is…generally, when people say that phrase “OMG, you’ll never guess what happened to me?” I probably could guess what happened because it’s normally not all that exciting. I could say stuff like, ”OMG you bought a puppy!”, “Oh wow, you got a raise!”, “OMG – the herpes outbreak is finally gone?” But, I literally would never expect someone to exclaim that they had just been fisted – so, I like just toss it out there and see how they respond. If they laugh or otherwise engage me, I know we are good to go as friends. If they look disgusted – it’s probably just because their loose @$$ got called out.

(We actually had an assignment in which the teacher gave us an example to write a joke about a ventriloquist…now, how am I supposed to avoid a fisting joke there? Literally, he placed a potentially crude comment directly into my hand.)

Here go into Aussie slang (fanny) and the American slang term “Double fisting” and how Aussies never get it.

If they hate it - I could say, "Ohhh it's funny you all aren’t laughing! Apparently, you can take a fist but not a joke?"

-END-

Ok, so...you've read it. You may or may not be hating me but please, give me your opinion. As I said, it's literally my first try and keep in mind that this content will be spoken and delivered in an animated fashion beyond just words on a page. So, please, leave comments below, here on this page, and let me know your thoughts. All feedback is appreciated. And, why not check out my book by click here? Everybody needs a little stuck.at.seven!

Still Stuck.

It's been just over two months now since I released my book, stuck.at.seven [while awkwardly aiming for ten], and it has, literally, changed the lives of tens of people. It has gotten some good reviews, great words of support and I even received an amazing letter that outlined how a child in South Sudan was able to learn to walk after just a mere passage of my book was read to him. 

The best part about it all is that some of the people who have purchased the book have sent some fun, clever pics of themselves reading (or, pretending to read), and it has been most appreciated. My goal was always just to make a few people laugh through my antics, so it seems to be working.

I continue the book journey by just trying to gain exposure. I diligently contact reviewers and writers, asking them to check out the book and just give it a look. I have it in quite a few peoples' hands but, I get that it won't be everyone's cup of tea (based on the fact that a 70 year old woman read a chapter or two and then called on the sweet Lord to save my soul) but if I don't reach out, than they'll never hear about it.  So, I continue to push forward.

In my newfound pursuit of self-promotion, I have been finding and promoting other non-fiction authors along the way. Recently, I came across the fun, new book by Allison Hawn, "Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus", where she takes you on a whimsically descriptive journey through some situations that seem to only plague Allison. Beyond having an amazing cover, Allison's writing is engaging and makes for a quirky read. So, if you're looking for a little pick-me-up or some good, clean fun - give Allison's blog a look to learn more.

So, the stuck saga continues. I shall continue to push forward in my delusional pursuit of literary mediocrity. Plus, I have been tossing ideas out for a stuck at seven 2.0 - but, will it come to fruition? I am not sure, but I do think I'd like to give it a shot. So, keep on the lookout - all four of you longing to read it!

Humor Me.

People always tell me that I am funny. Generally, they follow that description with the words, "to look at". And, while initially offended, I have grown ok with that. But, after taking a few improv and stand-up comedy courses, I've really started to dig in and try to find out why or how someone becomes funny. One thing I have learned is that, to sit and tell a funny anecdote about your life is relatively easy (especially after a shot of tequila), but to stand before a crowd and engage them with your humorous tales and perils is completely different.

So, tonight, I have been analyzing when I first remember being funny and making someone laugh. I'm at home sitting on the couch with the stains of an oven-baked pizza riddled across my white t-shirt and I think I have narrowed down the exact moment when I got labeled as "funny". 

It all happened one, fateful day in 8th grade. I was walking down the hallway at school and some kid yelled out, for no apparent reason, "I bet your Mama sucks your Daddy's dick!" I paused for a second and thought, "If they are still into oral at this point, there is no way that Dad would be so pissed off all the time" and then, without further delay, I blurted back, "Well, at least she knows who my Daddy is!" 

(If Maury confirms it  - it's true, folks!)

As the words slipped past my lips, I waited for fist-to-face contact but it never happened. The kids within listening-distance erupted into laughter and gave me a sense of approval I had never felt before as they said things like, "Awww he got you!" and "Yeah - that ugly boy is funny!" It was the first time that I had ever spoken up to a bully and with that one line, I had shut that little bastard up. While I glowed in my success, my guilty conscience started to kick in as his formerly smug face turned sad because, apparently, my haphazard phrase probably rang a little too true. 


It’s no secret that humor stems from some forlorn sadness. It’s a coping mechanism, and a way to push back our fears, our doubt, our insecurities and rise above. So, currently, I am attempting to craft together a 5 minute monologue of my awkwardness to perform for a stand-up class that I am currently enrolled in. Will I succeed? Probably not. Will I end up chickening out on the performance? We are currently in the "highly likely" range, but I have decided, for now, that I have to try. So, I need to swallow my pride (and, no less than 2 Xanax), jump on that stage and just give it my all. But, until that night, I'll let the panic settle in and take its all-too-familiar hold.

(Uhhh, is this thing on?! Anybody?! Anybody?!)

Also, why not check out my new book?! If you've already read it - please give it a review and if you haven't, why not check it out here?!