glow festival

glow worms came out to play...santa monica ROCKS for its annual glow festival! think outside beach museum with light pieces : )

what a fun night...we met up with two friend couples at the new mall in santa monica (it's ritzy fritzy) and had a glorious time eating, drinking and getting merry.

after dinner at this yummalicious place called pizza antica, we headed down to the beach and the glowing began. this year's light stations weren't nearly as good as the first ones i saw two years ago, but they were still a hoot to experience with friends.

we got a workout in the sand (that was a lot of sand walking, yo!) saw some interesting (and sometimes odd) stuff and then we traded the festival up for some sangria and crepes on the promenade.

...went back to jersey and i's spot for more dranks, some my big fat greek wedding and some omar happy snore time. it was a grip of fun...i can tell because i have a raging hangover, cracked out hair and breath that could sink a thousand ships (sound the fog horn!)

i give the glow festival and all events spawned from its inception, two happy thumbs up.

holy metaphor, batman!

jersey and i go to church now. i've mentioned it a time or two and i've actually had some pretty uplifting conversations with folks concerning spirituality. i've noticed people were hesitant to discuss with me in the past. as soon as they learned i didn't attend a church they assumed i was a heathen punk who would belittle and challenge their beliefs. well i'm most definitely a heathen, but i'm not an asshole so there ya go.

nontheless, i got a go pass once i started participating in the sunday jesus party. some friends who are heathens like me i think were a bit weirded out by this...i think they assumed i was going to start thumping them over the head with my bible, but like before, it's always just been my thing that i do sans social opinion.

the reason i mention this is because i'm still the same person and i don't like to be labeled...don't assume i've turned into an angry fred phelps...mmmkay pumpkin? the catholic church jersey attends is a pretty sweet place to be. it's peaceful and beautiful and 98% of the time the priests are entertaining and inspirational.

not last sunday, though. last sunday i was like a little kid with ants in my pants. i could not focus....the guy was talking some boring ish and so i had to spice things up.

we came to the part of mass where the priest holds up the cracker thing and blesses it. he then will say "this is the body of christ". at that moment i leaned over to jersey and said, "jesus wasn't no cracka!" and his head bowed in shame.

you can put the girl in church, but you can never take away her ability to say something highly inappropriate.

jimmy boos and diva downers

i took a vow of social media silence a week or so ago and instead, focused on reading and listening to everything else people were saying about the world at large.

honestly (quite frankly) i read a lot of bull sheet. a lot of negative pretentious crap. i don't know why pretentious is the new black, but it is. i saw it in blogs of supposed note. i saw it in the times dawwwling (duh, it's fashion week mania) and i saw it all over twitter, facebook and google buzz updates like whoa.

ny times dawwwling...everyone wants to know who was special enough to sit in the front row. who the freak cares?! i mean, i remember the intense competitive nature i used to exhibit when playing musical chairs, but i'm a big girl now. (i realize now you won't implode if you don't get one...obviously the who's who of the fashion world never got the memo. seriously though, do people learn in fashion school that they must lose all humble sensibilities when entering the world of starved hangers and designers clad all in black? can't it really, REALLY just.BE.ABOUT.THE.FASHION? i can admit i enjoy looking at pretty. pretty is my escape from the ugly. (so deep) fashion is art...i eat up visual stuff with an odd vengeance, but i twitch when in the presence of pretentious twats. that elitist and self important boo crap is boo boo. caca in gucci. 

fashion snobbery is a boil on the butt of humanity.

i'm exhausted and disgusted...i've been trying to read my vogue september issue, but i can't get passed the first article.

...small doses i suppose.

i wonder though...can anyone like something without turning into a clone of the others who like the same thing? can't you like something and not submit to type?

weird wimp wigging out


kidult update: relationships are all about compromise. jersey loves ghost crap. he lives for that horrific ish. i personally freak the eff out...nothing's too cheesy for me. i will scream. i will jump. i will sleep with one eye open, head underneath the covers for months and months.

i start to feel bad, though. i mean he watches every frickin' movie i suggest, but when it comes to his movie choices, all he gets is an emphatic HELL NAW! so i compromised.

 i told him i'd watch the haunting in connecticut with him during the day...a compromise, right? WRONG! i still freaked out. i'm still jumpy and not right. i think i have to find a movie bud for this guy...someone has to take my place in this department. i will not get jealous. promise.

when something traumatic happens to me i try to document the process...i've never laughed so hard at myself before. too bad that isn't therapy. i'd much love to be cured of my scaredy pants syndrome.

jersey takes on the puny


jersey has been training me for four weeks now. i was dumb and complained to the one person you should never complain to...a trainer. i told him i wanted tina turner legs. i begged for guns and a fit badunkadunk. ask and you shall receive pain!!!

 it's been interesting...while jersey hasn't killed me yet, i wouldn't be surprised if he snapped soon. i tend to whine...a lot. i throw my body onto the gym floor. with my last breaths i'll sometimes ask him what i ever did to deserve such torture. i wonder during exhausting reps if i kicked him in his piss pump in my's legal domestic abuse if you ask me. my calves moo!

i catch myself whining at night about my thunder thighs and so forth and i see his eyebrow lift...i can't control my stinkin' good for nuthin' mouth! it's gotten me in trouble once again. i have two more weeks until i find out how much my body has muscled up.

he'll be hosting boot camps for my fit bottomed girl peeps starting in october so this is the test. if he can put up with my mouth, laziness and utter puniness, then he'll be fine with a huge group of ladies who are trying boot camp for the first time. : ) good luck jersey...

who's the true benefactor?


i can think of a handful of people i would LUV to give THIS to for christmas...

cultivating the cooter for cash ain't coo...

to thy own self be true...thank you willie shakes.

i took a friend's idea and ran with it. well, i jogged with it. my kiwi sensibilities tend to goof-i-fy things up a tad. in all seriousness though, it's good to know a couple of tidbits about yourself for rainy days. my kidult sensibilities tell me it could come in handy.

the official tish eval:

  • i LOVE me some alliteration (title of blog is a product of said luv) i'm sorry, but there's just nothing better than a literary effect that has little to know room for seriousness.  just the sight of the stuff creates whimsy in my noggin. LOVE.IT. try it! trust me you'll be giggling at your desk in no time.

  • i'm a serious person when i need to be, but i try my hardest to avoid that road. goofy is my middle name. i like my beverages shaken, not stirred.

  • i love posting questions on this community blog ...makes my heart swell up. i love the conversations we have...connecting with the random spiders on the web. sometimes my thoughts and opinions alienate me a bit...believe it or not, my friends do not talk about toots and such as much as me. when i need to release (verbally of course) i know i can always go visit with my community. smiles all around.

  • i pride myself on being anti-girly/prissy, but deep down i'm a low down dirty liar because i adore me some dainty prettiness. there's a dreamer inside of me that rocks the hell out of anything in this collection.

  • i've been staring at the pages of my book for so long i no longer know if i'm ruining the voice that purely poured itself out onto the page, or if i'm improving the stream of conscious riff raff. i guess it all depends on whether or not i'm feeling optimistic or brave that day. (ps those are all the comments i received from my first chapter post. i actually read those words, line by line. i edit, fix, and add. you'll never know how much it meant to me that ya'll took the time to help.)

  • when i first loved, i was cocky and naive. i put a man through terrible tests in order to see if he would stick. now, i'm insecure and experienced. i shy away from friction in order to see if they stick. i hope and pray the next phase is a happy medium.



recently i did a fitting with the lululemon girls for an FBG post. i fell in luv with the clothes and thus decided to join their mailing list. my first official email had the above on it. (the company loves to ask their employees what life goals they have. they publish them in emails like the one above and on retail bags.) i was wigging out because those are all my ALL of them.

either i'm highly unoriginal, or this is a sign to keep on truckin'.

i bought inspiration

i'm not much on shopping. i'm a wham, bam "i'm in! i'm out! only buy what you absolutely NEED!" kind of gal so when i do buy myself something impractical it's usually because i need extreme, totally inappropriate retail therapy.

this purchase below...totally impractical...totally cherished.

i get these charming daily emails with deals on all kinds of doo dads no one really needs, but buy and hoard anyways. usually i trash them, but i saw this light bulb necklace the other day and i swear my eye twitched a bit.

i've been so down about my ability to form coherent, insightful thoughts...i can't come up with a book strategy to save my life...thus, I BUY IDEA. (beat chest with stone club and eat bug that falls off head from thud.)

some will shake their heads, but it's quirky and SOooo a maneuver my silly little behind would make. i love the reasoning behind the purchase. according to jersey, it's a lot more lady like, too. (my original plan was to get a tat on my wrist that reads dream...that could actually still happen. sorry fella.)

lightbult swarovski crystal necklace... $100
lightbulb swarovski crystal necklace from the web site i use... $48
lightbulb swarovski crystal necklace with $25 discount for recommending a friend... $24
inspiration swinging from my neck like a rapper gone nerd...priceless

a rap haiku:

i be blinging yo
inspiration swings from neck
respect my gangster

the great repression

i'm going to share a key personality quirk with you...something that may or may not define me. i can't make that distinction quite yet. i'm only should never name the clay until it's finished becoming the bowl.

i am über hard on myself when it comes to where i stand in the world i've created. translation? if i have it in my head that i'm supposed to be successful now then i'm devastated if that success hasn't hit. so...with that being said, i'm unhappy because i don't have a book deal. i write blogs day in and day out and have no earthly idea if the ish gets read cuz i never receive comments...people don't even like to mention they read it. it's always an off-hand totally flippant (yeah i caught that blog that once) ouch...that stings. i'm a self-absorbed writer. i don't move my fingers on the keypad cuz it feels good...because the act of physical typing is cathartic... i write and tap my fingers on the keyboard because i like connecting with people. hearing crickets isn't good for the soul...

so yeah...i took a break from social media (aka twitter and facebook posting) because i figured it was time to read, listen, learn and leave the silly posts for someone else to create for awhile. that's how i'm coping. sounds a little counter intuitive, no? i feel insignificant therefore, i hide myself from the writing world...ok tish. sure...

the thing is it's working...first of all it's an ego check. maybe i need to learn how to get my inner attention whore to simmer down and not worry so much about being needed...or being some one's everything. (mama instinct warped itself into a monstrosity!) second, i'm becoming a student again. i'm reading new and interesting things and taking the time to reconnect with my inner opposed to focusing on who's reading me and if my footprints are sticking or fading.

i'm writing in the background. my book is still growing and i'm still submitting to agents...i'm going to start a self-publishing adventure soon because according to anna wintour (a new twitter hero) "If you focus on results, you will never change. If you focus on change, you will get results".

i'm changing things admitting what people probably already guessed about me. i need to know i'm noticed...i need to know i exist in the world. maybe that comes from my father passing...experiencing death at such a young age causes you to question things...or at least think of things a little differently. while my friends were asking me if i enjoyed winning a tether ball match, all i was really thinking about was what people would miss about me if i died. how would the world go on and would anyone care? morbid little thing, wasn't i? whatever the root cause, whether it be my daddy issues or my "chicken or the egg?" theory on social networking (does it breed, festor and grow little narcissists?) the cyber ban was a good idea.

i'm not fixed yet...a couple of days isn't enough for a life-changing aha moment, BUT it's a's a change. anna would be so proud of me...well she'd be proud and then she'd see my beat up chucks and old shaggy cardigan and hang her head in shame.
to be continued...

the art of editing...

hang on loosely

fear has become one of those dirty four letter words, but i'm reclaiming it. i'm tucking it under my wing and running with it...heisman trophy style like.

because of legalities (yeah, i've got drama like that) i am not at liberty to mention what exactly caused me to encounter panic attacks earlier this week on the job, but i am at liberty to mention that the man is doing his damnedest to shush my fears, belittle them and make me feel guilty for a perfectly normal reaction i had to a perfectly abnormal situation.

fear or flight...reactions have been our homies for a really long time, yet all i read and hear about fear is its ability to cripple and limit. i agree with the notion that if you use fear as an excuse to prevent positive change then you're doing your spirit an injustice. i do not agree with fear itself being something shameful.

i am scared. i respect this fear because i respect my gut that tells me i need to tread lightly and i REFUSE to back down from that...i'll defend it. i'm a push over and a pansy 90% of the time. i can admit this, yes. when the 10% makes its way out!

i don't need to be miss hercules with cute little fierce winged shoes 24/7. i'm sorry. i'm hanging on to my fear loosely...just like one should and i shall use that fear to knock a fool out OR (more realistically) take off like a bat out of hell if i feel like it...damn it.

true blood i see it

d and i have these little get togethers where we watch flicks and cook...lately we've done more watching than cooking, but we had to go out with a bang for the true blood season finale. that's what this post is really about... my awesome guy bud d and all the goofiness and good he pulls out of my stinky behind. i have to whine and plead with the dude, but if i'm stubborn enough i win and the goofy pictures and times can commence. i luv the people who take me away from the whackness of work. they remind me there's a whole NUTHA level of world out there just waiting to be enjoyed.

the beginning...d is still shy "you're starting the camera thing now?!"

i heart pickles. snookie ain't got nothin' on me!

we've shopped. we're ready to begin!

pizza...d said it was "too healthy" (aka had vegetables in it) hmph. we'll work on that. i made sure to talk with my julia child's accent...well part julia, part yoda. "pizza is good, i say."

geeking over the true blood we're about to devour

garlic powder?! nooooo keep it away from the fangers!

as soon as d knew i wasn't gonna give in he started to play

i bite! your silly foil cross does you no good!

as for the was sooo anti-climatic. people were making such a hoopla and it was just whatever. our photo shoot was ten times more fun than that ish. all i have to say is sookie, you're on the weirdest pms trip i've ever seen. in fact, all the girls are stupid and i'm tired of them all freaking out and soothing their wounded necks with boink fests. they get hot and bothered with the first dude that walks thru the door. they wipe their tears away and get busy. i swear it's like they're all bonobo monkeys. stop humping! give mama some good cliff hangers! bring back the drama that results in me choking on my gasps. pretty please with blood on top.  

cogent evidence

i knew i was an honest to goodness writer when...

the first thing i wanted to do after realizing i had a giant fever blister was write a haiku.i walked into a barnes and noble and got warm and cozy thinking of my book living on a shelf there some day.i changed my blackberry messenger name to 'the writer' and it didn't feel weird.i write incessantly-- all day, every day and never tire.i dream.i can give any mundane story of my life a kiwi twist.i went through my old journals and found i've been writing since i could spell...first grader with an eager heart goes pitter pat when i hear words like onomatopoeia, tryst, melancholy, and precocious. i devour the likes of books concerning writing: a room of one's own by Virginia Woolf and changing my mind by Zadie Smith.i take great pride in my chipped nail polish--proof is in the pudding...i have some productive fingers.

i heart toyota!

today was a rough friday. i mean i knew from the moment i woke (and realized i forgot to turn my alarm on the night before) that the day would be a bust. i mustered up the courage to continue along the dark path only to find myself in a ginormous pool of shit at work.

i took a break and got some coffee (coffee is magic on a mirky day) but alas, too much ish was happening at my crazy freaked out place of employment for the magic to kick in.

all that changed the minute i got to the santa monica toyota dealership to get my passenger mirror fixed. they were nice and the place was clean. they recognized me from the phone, remembered what i was coming in for, sent me to the nice little pleasant waiting room, and went to town on fixing my ish.

wait! i forgot! before they even started the mirror work i asked them about my "you need to change your oil" light staying on. he immediately got in and showed me how to turn it off. SCORE! then i asked how much it would cost to get black dings buffed out of my back bumper. i literally turned around to answer some information about my car, turned back around and the damn skid marks were gone. WHAT!!? i was in good really nice awesome hands that have been manicured and soaked in angel luv.

it only took them 45 minutes to replace the mirror and it was $80 cheaper than my originally quote. is it ok to weap when people go out of their way to be kind? cuz i really needed it.

the flying tomato has gotten a spa day and is happy. the roads will feel the fierceness once again!

i'm with him...

i love the jersey feedback i've received ever since i first showed his grill on this darn blog.  i had to stop counting how many times someone has sent me an email saying "hey tish. i have that piece of paper you left at my house three years the way your boyfriend is hot." this leads me to believe that all my other exes were toe up from the floor up cuz i've never had folks tell me flat out my dude is hot and i should pinch his ass cheeks on a daily basis.

my own granny (that would be my great grandmother folks) got fresh with jersey...i've never seen that woman shuffle so fast. she was by his side in seconds, kissing him on the cheek, and giving long hugs lol. gotta love it.

it's official. i'm dating the hot guy...and i'm the nerd girl.

this fact is cause to fist pump. i can gaze, growl and cat call to that boy all day 'err day...and STILL make time to clean out the pocket that currently houses my calculator.

beauty and the brain, brain, brain, brain BRAIN!

on beauty

my kid sis knows i'm a skin product whore.

since i was in 6th grade i've rocked a green/blue/black clay mask...does it do ish for my skin? i don't know. i still grow planets on my grill from time to time, but it makes me feel like i'm spoiling myself in some tiny way. (i'm too cheap for manis and pedis.) that's enough for me. we must always remember to spoil ourselves...and in my case do it cheaply.

so back to the kid sis. she's currently chillaxin' in s. korea with her hubster. she's over there teaching, learning and soaking up korean culture. i live vicariously through her cuz she's swell. she rewarded me for this by sending facial goodies.

love the product labels! there's a rice mask that reads, "food therapy special food for the skin to eat. contains lots of nutritive and energetic ingredients such as fresh plants, fruits and etc. to maintain our bodies heatlhy and lively." (hee hee)

the carott toner is even more cute & grammatically awkward. a toner that is formulated without the 7 ingredients for the health of your skin (damn! i really wanted those too!...or maybe not. the 7 ingredients missing consist of dyes and alcohol. they fooled me into thinking they jacked up! doh!)

sis gets 100 points for catering to my weird little primping ways. 50 points for the cute packaging. (i'm an ethnocentric asshole, what can i say?) and she loses 10 damn points for the skin whitening cream she sent as a har har old school family joke. do i look like michael jackson?!

don't answer that.

tales of nincompoopary

oh how glorious it was to visit middle earth with my main squeeze! it was a short weekend for sure...maybe too short, but we jam packed that ish chock-a-block full of adventures.


we landed in kansas city and had just enough time to pick up some delishy planet sub sandwiches (drool is pooling just thinking about that ish!) before meeting up with a group of buds for a royal's caravan extravaganza to the stadium. jersey was hating like whoa on the royals, but after he figured out royals' games are much more than dudes playing ball in a diamond he shushed the yankees smack talk and enjoyed america's greatest past time...our way. (i.e. beers, frozen blue margaritas, hot dogs and crazy conversations involving vaginal dentata and other curiosities.)

after the game the crew met back up in j and perfect husband's neighborhood for some drinks at a nearby bar. we ate yummy food. we partook in drinking yummy beers and had a good ole time catching up. my freshmen year college roomie who i lovingly refer to as the princess of darkness (pod for short) came out to visit. jersey dug her quirky loveliness. she's refreshingly original, which jersey was digging. (like i'd have whack friends!)


j, perfect husband, jersey and i decided we should all work out together so we headed to a park sunday morning and let jersey go to town on our bloated beer bellies. (not cool.) we worked out for an hour, but the skies were clear and the breeze was perfect so it was only partially a hellacious experience.

after our workout, we headed to my grandma's house so she could meet the fella i've been talking about for many, many moons. it was an emotional experience for me. my great grandmother, frail and delicate, called for mark to come to her bed. she told him she could tell he was a great man and made me promise i'd hold on to him. seeing her hug jersey and say such sweet words brought tears to my eyes. i'll never forget that moment in time...
we ate gourmet ice cream from glace (french lavender ice cream? are you kidding me?!) on the nelson art museum lawn and played with my parents in the new addition to the museum. great local art AND my fam bam? it don't get no betta. my parents are beyond cute and super duper sweet for driving three hours just to see us for a couple hours...i love those two.

later the four of us went out for a very nice meal at a swanky restaurant called pierpont's. we feasted on spectacular food and laughed over two bottles of good wine. the best part of the evening was when j and i went to the ladies room and she finally got a chance to tell me what she thought of the guy. that was a touching conversation that i will always hold in my heart. seeing him sitting with perfect husband when we returned made my heart warm even more. (possibly the wine???)everything works out in the end...funny how we never believe that until it happens.


ROCK CHALK! the guy HAD to get a ku campus tour. he got to see all my old stomping grounds, including daisy hill...a monstrous hill that almost killed me the first time i met j's husband. never run down a hill full speed after ingesting chocolate energy (aka caramel and chocolate easter eggs). we ate at milton's and got some ku gear...does anyone else feel like they're right back in school when they visit their alma mater? i swear i was 18 all over again...

familiar foods, local hangouts...i shoved a bunch of my life and the life of my city in jersey's lap in two days. it was crazy and exhausting for sure, but i am so thankful we had the opportunity to go...

life with him doesn't get much better...

of significant importance

i've lost my sense of purpose. to be fair to the bruised and broken me, i never really had it firmly in my grips, but i was at least on the path to something...something i could clearly see ahead of me. i was walking forward and i was going and i was doing it, damn it!

i'm of course referring to my writing/acting plan. i write every day. sometimes what i write actually resonates with others and causes me to think that maybe, just maybe, i got this. maybe this is my true purpose: to write, to express, and to do it in the most quirky way i can possibly muster up.

but lately...for a couple of months really, i've felt that maybe my quirkiness doesn't really have a place in literary circles quite yet. i don't know many people getting literary agents for writing about boobies on balls and seppuku.

this has wreaked havoc on my essence of swagger is shot to shit. i am seriously mopey and melancholy. i see actresses and i give a loud eeyore sigh of want. i hear of trips to far away lands and i kick rocks...somehow i've become really dang great at not focusing on what i have going on. seeing people rubbing my dreams all over their ass distracts me.

i haven't posted any of my fit bottomed girl stuff in awhile, but i'm still working hard at that while trying not to look like a complete dweeb in the process. i'm still working with my agent. (crazy surprise! i got desperate and couldn't tell her to kiss my empty broke ass wallet) i'm still running to the mailbox every day in search of literary agent letters...still.

and i'm still at my job...a massive hodge podge of bore. still allowing the man to suck any and all creative juices and energy from my skull.

i'm blaming all this ish on the curse of the 20s. we're not supposed to get what we want in our 20s. we're not supposed to get our perfect career...this comforts me. that is, it comforts me until i see a 23-year-old hose beast doing the damn thing. then seppuku comes drifting right on back in.

jersey goes to middle earth

ohhhhhhhhhhhhh snap!

the guy has met the fam bam. i've met his fam bam, but (and this is a very large kim kardashian but) he has not met THE best friend. not yet anyways and that's HUGE considering she pretty much rocks my world from thousands of miles away and has been my bestie soul mate since the ripe old age of 14. to keep it kiwi tart and to the point: the girl be important, ya'll...

so we booked some flights and saturday morning we shall journey to middle earth in order to gain the most important approval necessary for a man of jersey's stature. lol...i really enjoy building it up like this, can you tell?

we've procured all of the necessary items to complete such a journey. we've got the ring that must be thrown into a pit of fire...we're hip on all our our tornado repellent in the suitcase. we're golden. we're goooooood.

it'll be a short little trip but bestie boo boo boo boo boo is a planner and then some. we're hitting up a baseball game, meeting some fam bam for bbq, infusing some vodka, watching a flick down in the power and light district...oh yeah!

i shall return a happy, but most-tired companion.

i kid a lot, but i couldn't be more happy about my two favorite worlds meeting FINALLY. these two folks mean the absolute world to me and know me better than anyone. their meeting could be on the level of martin luther king getting chummy with malcolm x...this is world peace, a meeting of minds, "all is right with the world" ish.

do you remember the first time your sweetie met your most important person for the first time? makes your heart kind of expand and glow a little, right?

= totally wicked!!!

flying fierce

i have some news about my car. there are just certain things you have to learn as you go...things you gather once you take your baby off the lot...this sort of knowledge comes with time and sincere quality bonding. folks, what i've learned is my beloved toyota matrix is in fact gay.

you're questioning the label, aren't you? the flying tomato's papers list the color as fierce red. FIERCE red. i'm sorry, but upon reading that sweet little fact i giggled and patted my dear sweet boy.

he has a crush on the honda fit around the corner. it's nothing serious, but cute. he's young! my fierce boy needs to get out into the world and be fabulous...spread the luv...honk at any and all boy cars that tickle his fancy.  

i asked my babe if he could accept the flying tomato's preferences and he said of course. i knew i dug that man for a reason. i love my boys.

a haiku for the flying tomato:

joy, my car is fierce
acceptance comes easy for me
luv is blind, two snaps


i definitely was an eddie murphy kid...

while my momma is the whitest white girl on the face of this earth she still has sista girl tendencies that leave many confused if i'm telling stories and purposely leaving out what race she is. (it's fun to bewilder!)

you see, my momma gave me "looks" growing up. looks that froze me in my tracks and sent shivers down my spine. i did not, under any circumstances, throw tantrums nor did i EVER question that woman's say with a stupid "why?". oh heeeeeelll naw!

she named me latisha che'nelle merritt. need i say more?

she made me perform skits for her and her friends growing up. imagine eddie murphy raw now. that was me! (complete with awkward face and weird laugh.)

if it wasn't the mary catherine "superstar!!!" pleas for encores, it was some other character. for years i had to endure the armpit sniffs. then one day i got smart and came up with my own material. you only think the pooh stuff is a schtick that i developed in kidult-hood, but that ish has been a staple routine for many moons.

my favorite pooh skit was called "formation of the pooh". it involved me turning into a piece of pooh and going thru the intestines...i would squeeze and groan until finally i was slipping out of the butthole onto the ground. this last part was beautiful and brilliant. i would then splat onto the ground and spread my limbs...a noble attempt at conveying pooh freedom in the bowl.

it was beautiful. my opus if you will....

the hardship of living with the kind of momma who yells, "do it again!" definitely shaped the kidult i have become.

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