Collagen lips kind of creep me out, but . . .

. . . I always want to turn and run at the sight of a penciled in eyebrow.

Conditions in Iraq are worse than I thought

This photo makes me want to slap every single person living in the middle east and say what the crunk are you thinking?!? How can you possibly justify fighting over territories that are crawling with shit like this? It's worse than Australia, if that's possible.

I searched for fatness . . .

The Number Thirteen

I am not superstitious but the fact that there were 13 posts on the blog of fear has been freaking me out. It would have been prudent, you’ll agree, to skip thirteen and go right to fourteen the way skyscrapers skip the thirteenth floor. I would also like to take this opportunity to use the word, “triskaidekaphobia.”

Stage Fright

I stand back stage, my head throbbing, dizzy, cold sweats. I've never set foot on stage without feeling a need to go to the bathroom even if I just got back from there which is usually the case. I don't get nauseous but that may be the only symptom of stage fright I'm free of. I get an ache in my bones, a cold panic that feels like a real physical presence behind my eyes. My wrists hurt.

Sometimes, when it's bad enough, my memory shuts off and I do my act in a black out state. I will, afterwards, only be aware of succeeding or failing with the audience but I will have no recall of what I actually said or did onstage. I have to trust that the words that came out of my mouth were those I wrote and rehearsed for this occasion. It is rarely this bad anymore.

I have ulcerative colitis according to the doctors, but it seems to be a hysterical form of the condition as it only flares before performances or other stressful occasions, mostly performances.

If I go onstage at least once a week it stresses me less and less; wait a month and I may as well be going up for the first time.

It doesn't matter the audience. I will stress just as bad before a twenty person crowd at a dive bar as before a 1,000 person audience in a nice theatre. And then once in a while I get no stress in a situation where the patterns of the past tell me I should be a mess. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to these much appreciated and rare bits of relief.

I must REALLY like hearing the laughs and applause to keep going up. I ask myself "Why do you do this?" over and over and the only answer is, "You'll remember why after its done."

actual fear (just one, I swear)

Sorry everyone, this isn't comedic, or sarcastic, superior, or even snarky.  But I have always feared the ocean, and this picture illustrates why.  

I went surfing in L.A. with a would-be film producer, and every second I was out there I was totally convinced I was about to be taken by a hunter from the deep.  No matter how often you tell yourself how unlikely it is, you know damn well it is always, always possible.  

Just thinking about being in the ocean, especially isolated in deep blue water, makes it hard to breath.  (Notice, please, that my fear didn't stop me from surfing. It was a huge thrill)

But don't try and tell me you aren't afraid of sharks.  

Palin's Greatest Hits

I am afraid. I have a comedy show at the same time that Sara Palin has her debate with Joe Biden. I know that NOTHING I say could possibly be as funny as what she will say.

Two For One Sale

I tried to think rationally: She was on The View, the show watched by the damned souls in Hell. But she was smart enough to get off that train, so that couldn't be it. I tried to convince myself that it was because of the horrifying company she keeps . . .

(Margaret Cho excluded, she's solidly talented, funny and beautiful)

I couldn't figure out the cause of the knot in my stomach at the sight of her, the sound of her voice, the mere mention of her name. Finally I realized: it was because of her resemblance to a certain nightmare image from my youth.

I am now totally convinced that Rosie O'Donnell is the queen mother of the oompa loompas. They hatch from eggs she lays, or something. And I am afraid.