I took a shower, did some stufff around the house, and I’m SHOCKED that I wrote an entire post about glory holes. I am a shameless hussy who must be stopped.

But, it did lead me to remember something that happened last night that is clear evidence to me that this bullshit I lay down here, and the bullshit I say on stage and all the comedy bullshit with a sweet dollop of bombast ain’t me. It just ain’t. (Which, of course, is part of my thesis on how exactly did I get into the current mess o’ trouble I’m living in…)

I often close my comedy sets with a reference to Pandora’s box and its unleashed demons. Throughout my “act” there are allusions to the vagina I do in fact possess. After the show last night, a guy walked up to me and essentially whispered in my ear “demons.”

The comic persona me was amused, because he was quoting me as though he were listening. The actual, real-person me was COMPLETELY creeped out.