Happy ‘wtf is it so hot?’ Thursday. Just over here making a list of exit strategies for zoom. ‘My computer died’ has run its course. People are getting suspicious. It’s like running into someone in the grocery aisle and there’s no conversation to be had, so your only option is to jump into a pile of bananas. Ugh. It’s hot. My razor jumped off the ledge and attacked my foot which then turned into a scene from Psycho. For such a small cut, you’d think I’d lost the toe entirely – the amount of blood was misleading to say the least. My toe pulled a Karen – I was like OKAY, CALM DOWN MA’AM, it’s not nearly as bad as you’re making it out to be. Shirley Baker, my bathroom plant, is shedding leaves like the rose from Beauty and the Beast which is odd – she’s never done that before. It’s a whole new world in here! – get it? Honestly between razors coming to life and the amount of singing that goes on in this place, I’m basically living my best Disney life…except for it’s the size of a teacup. It’s a small world after all. Someone put me to sleep. I don’t even like puns – I’m telling you I’m losing it. I was yelling at airplanes the other night – just yelling into the sky asking everybody where they were going. Did I mention how hot it is?
Everyone’s doing tiktok dance videos and whatever else and I’m just trying to figure out how the hell I’m supposed to select an onion or tomato without touching every single one. That’s what I miss – fondling produce. Now it’s a mean game of chance like some kind of puppy surprise short straw hunger game. My mother emailed me last week telling me to stay in lockdown because I’m funnier there which was…a compliment? This somehow spiraled into her begging me to ice her. I was like woman, you can’t ask to be iced. That’s not how it works. That’s like asking someone to throw you a surprise party. She’s going to deny all of this – I have ‘proof of email’ (like proof of life) with the 16 exclamation points. #Lakme Let’s see, I woke up this morning to find my hair dryer just staring daggers at me while chain smoking Virginia Slims. My hair is out of control. I belong in a zoo. Speaking of which, OJ Simpson tweeted that he’s convinced Carole Baskin killed her husband. Ya know, just in case there’s anyone on the planet who had any doubts. Someone tweeted back – Finally an expert has weighed in! And THAT is one of the funniest things I’ve read all quarantine. Honestly, anyone who DOESN’T think she did it can take a free flight to Italy.
Gotta lot of celebs doing weird shit online. Tom Hopper by far takes the cake with his suggestion that you send in a sample of your poop – yes, you read that right – to some company so they can let you know what to eat and what not to eat.
(INSERT THE LONGEST SILENCE KNOWN TO MAN HERE).
Uhh, how about we just leave that in the toilet and I promise I’ll stop eating cheese? How about that? EXCUSE ME? You did what?! And the way he said it was so blasé, I was like hold up – go back, go back, go back. You PAID for this? The extraction process alone has me feeling a lot of ways – none of them good – and that’s gonna be a hard pass for me. I am dying that there are mailworkers out there just running around delivering poop in a box. Am I immature? Or a prude? Who cares. Celebrities do crazy stuff, man. They announce their divorces via social media and it’s like, why? That is none of my business. Just email the people important to you like my little brother did and let everyone else figure it out on their own. And it’s all so cheery and ‘we decided this together’ and ‘this is for the best’ when I wish they would just be honest and say – ‘we’ve been together for way too long and have decided we hate the sight of one another, oh also he banged a bunch of chicks while high on cocaine in Tampa. Difficult times!’ – ya know? Just give it to me straight if you’re gonna put it out there. I don’t know why the world feels like they have a right to know about anyone’s marital status anyway. Speaking of which, why is Paul Rudd so hot?
If you’re looking for more garbage to watch, I recommend Too Hot to Handle – it’s a bunch of coachella kids who get put on an island with the opportunity to win $100,000 if they can abstain from sex of any kind. You break the rules, you lose money for everyone. Before I go into a tirade about the human tragedy of characters on the show, can we please just dwell on the premise for a second? As a single woman in quarantine, watching these little mutants lose THOUSANDS of dollars because they can’t control their hormones is what’s gonna end up landing me in prison. You should not ever be losing money for sex, you should be MAKING it CHLOE!!!! And here’s the deal, if anyone is going to get paid for not having sex – why isn’t it me? That’s not a gameshow, that’s my life. So anyways, these idiots are breaking the rules KNOWING they will lose $$ and everyone’s just sort of fine with it and it’s like – OBVIOUSLY they are not familiar with the financial duress that is my life cause I would be sitting up all night long with night vision goggles doing under the cover checks, shining flashlights on any suspicious movement with a bucket of water balloons just in case anyone tries to get handsy. I will be your ‘leave room for the holy spirit’ nightmare comeback from your Moulin Rouge-themed prom. I will physically sleep between the two of you since you have ZERO self control, HARRY! It’s 60 days. – keep it in your pants. How hard can that be? I have never, in my life, had a kiss worth $3,000…and maybe that’s my problem. Mostly this show taught me that underboob cleavage is trending which I did not know was a thing. (Insert ‘the more you know’ piano music here)
I’m on day 11 of my new health initiative and besides wanting to smash my face into a pineapple and turkey pepperoni pizza, everything is going fine. And, YES, I said pineapple. Don’t knock it till you try it. Tried it? So don’t eat it. Y’all are bullies. What did pineapple pizza ever do to anybody? People knock on pineapple pizza like it’s responsible for their parents divorce. Hawaiian pizza is the Guy Fieri of Quarantine. It’s the Dasani of water. PS – I felt very validated after SNL supported my very strong feelings against Dasani water. You can ask anyone who knows me well – I won’t drink that garbage water. Did I mention Paul Rudd is a hunk?
I’m not gonna lie – I’ve been singing A LOT. And THAT, my neighbors, is what I call KARMA. Do I care that you’ve had to hear me sing Hadestown 122 times? Sure don’t. Do I still listen to music on YouTube? You bet! These Fabletics commercials are out of control. It’s really hard doing jump squats to the sound of Demi Lovato talking about how great pants fit her. Hope everyone is hanging in there and living their best lives. Maybe ease up on the judgement and let everyone else live their best lives too. It’s the least we can do for one another right? I challenge each and every one of you to be as casual as Britney was about burning down her gym with candles. Find your inner chill. One of my very best friends growing up nominated me for the 6 shot challenge in case you’re wondering what I’m up to today. I’m 4 days late but I’m on quarantine time so I figure who cares. So, the rest of my day is shot. OH!!!!!! Pun INTENDED!!! (send help, I don’t know who this woman is) This post was brought to you by Truly, Paul Rudd and the sun. Fin.
**RETROSPECTACULAR** 
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