Emily Kaye Lazzaro

Amusing anecdotes almost entirely about myself.

Six Things I Learned From Having Three Miscarriages

1. Fairness is a Fallacy

When you’re very young or if nothing bad has ever happened to you, it seems like life should be fair.  This is not true!  In the words of everyone’s dad, life isn’t fair.  Facebook pregnancy announcements used to send me into a day-long depression, usually revolving around the idea that so-and-so got pregnant without any sort of struggle at all and they didn’t deserve it.  I had gone through the first trimester three times and had nothing to show for it and I deserved to be making Facebook pregnancy announcements.  I’d never made it to that mythical twelfth week and these women had made it there without breaking a sweat and how dare they. But everybody is entitled to their particular joy the same way everybody is entitled to their particular pain, irrespective of my personal life experience.  Also, “fair” is not a thing.  Or, it is a thing, but not the way I thought.  The true, valuable concerns of fairness have less to do with entitlement and more to do with institutionalized racism and sexism and the history of marginalization and how to solve those problems as a modern, thoughtful society.  That’s something worth worrying about.  But me not having a baby THE INSTANT I WANT ONE is not about fairness.  It’s not about anything.  It is what it is.  And, truth be told, do you know what’s unfair?  That I met my husband, who is great, when I was twenty-two and I only had to waste time dating, like, three or four horrible assholes.  You know what else is unfair?  That I was born in a comfortably upper-middle class family and was afforded every opportunity.  That I’m white and straight.  That is unfair.  Get your head out of your butt, me.

2. The Worst Thing You Can Imagine Will Happen

Last winter, my beloved, floppy, snuggly cat died.  Two weeks later I had a miscarriage.  Two weeks after that, my grandfather died.  After all that, I thought it was over.  It wasn’t.  There were two more losses coming.  One day soon I would pick up a very small dead human from the toilet and hold it in my hand before screaming and dropping it and flushing it away.  That was probably the worst thing.  So far.  SORRY THAT WAS REALLY GRAPHIC, but that’s the thing about this.  Imagine the worst thing.  The worst thing is not going to be cute.  Life/the human body is a disgusting, scary place.  And I’m sorry, I’m so genuinely sorry for you, but the worst thing is going to happen.  Because eventually everybody you love will die.  You will die.  It’s horrible.  I’m really sorry!  But look, real talk: the sun is going to explode someday and everything we’ve ever known will be over.  BUT DON’T DESPAIR!  Short of the sun exploding, the worst thing you can imagine happens someday.  And what do you do?  Maybe you think you can’t go on or you won’t make it.  But then you do.  Because what else are you supposed to do?  Die of a broken heart?  Nope, Disney, that’s not a thing.

3. I Have No Control

I’m really into controlling stuff.  How napkins are folded, the position of pillows on the couch, the 90 degree angles of papers on my desk, etc.  Sometimes I laugh about the things I used to get upset about.  My husband sometimes makes the bed in a way I perceive to be lazy.  We have had actual fights about this.  That’s hilarious!  I am such a control freak that I would see the bed he made, become infuriated, remake said bed, and then Gchat him about it at work.  “Why do you even bother making the bed?  The way you make the bed is a slap in the face to me.”  Hahahahahahaha.  What?!  I had no idea.  So imagine the shock to my system when I couldn’t control an iota of what was happening inside my body.  When humans die inside you, through no fault of your own, you have to stop thinking you have any sort of ability to dictate any outcome.  I tried very hard to have healthy pregnancies.  I did everything right, but it didn’t work out.  But it doesn’t matter what I do.  I’m not in control of that.  I am just along for the ride and it’s up to the randomness of the universe (or God, if you want) to decide.  You know, like the AA serenity prayer.  Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.  Just let it go.  I haven’t seen Frozen, but every time I hear the song I make it about miscarriages.  I make most things about miscarriages now.  But that song is clearly not about miscarriages.  It’s about being gay.

4. I Love Drugs

A few years ago, I watched The Business of Being Born on Netflix because I am a 29-year-old, middle class American woman.  That movie convinced me, before I even thought about getting pregnant, that I wanted to have a beautiful, painful, un-medicated home birth when the time came.  That gorgeous woman in the beginning, in a brightly colored top, just standing in her birthing pool in her living room, silently reaching down below her and pulling her baby out of her body, I mean come on.  I wanted that!  That changed, though, for me, after having three ugly, painful, un-medicated home miscarriages.  Now I am 100% about the drugs.  I am 100% about hospitals and machines and professionals.  If I could be an inpatient for the entirety of every pregnancy I ever go through for the rest of my life, I would.  Numb me.  I have no more illusions.  Nothing about that pain is beautiful.  Mind, if I ever do have a baby, I’m sure it will be beautiful.  But I will still probably want drugs.  Life is too short to choose pain.  (Also, note to Billy, I reserve the right to decide that I don’t want drugs at a later date because I am forgetful.  You may be blamed for this.  Look out!)

5. I Am Invincible

Every time it happened, we thought we would cease to be.  Billy and I grieved differently–I tended to go faster and dirtier, and he took longer and his sadness would come out sideways sometimes, confusing both of us.  But, every time, after about six weeks, we would be back to ourselves.  I would start running again.  Billy would want to see friends.  We would be okay.  A month or two later, we would talk about it and decide to try again.  Every time, we decided to try again.  Why did we do that?  Hadn’t we had enough?  Well, yes and no.  After a few weeks, you wake up and realize that you’re not dead.  And not only are you not dead, but you don’t even feel that bad anymore.  You’re different now, but you’re okay.  It didn’t kill you.  It didn’t really make you stronger, either.  It just didn’t kill you.  So I guess I’ve come to the conclusion that worrying is unnecessary and not useful to me anymore.  In the end, worry or not, the only thing that can kill you is the thing that kills you.  Up until then, you’re invincible.

6. Everything Is A Miracle

Miscarriages are very physically painful, in addition to the obvious emotional strain.  So after a miscarriage was over I would have these moments of realizing that I wasn’t in any physical pain, and it felt like a miracle.  And, actually, lots of things feel like miracles now.  These things include, but are not limited to: bagels, the ocean, sleep, a really funny joke, fire, that an apple came right off the tree tasting like that, spring finally happening, rice pudding, that I saw a guy practicing ballroom dancing moves on his walk home from work, really solid high fives, dogs, that all of us are breathing and our hearts are beating and we’re still alive.  It is very amazing that we are all alive!  We made it through our mothers’ pregnancies with us, we were born into the world, we didn’t die of SIDS, and now we’re all sitting at our computers, reading these words, blood pumping through our veins, against incredibly bad odds.  How amazing is that?!

Also, I’m pregnant.  Due October 20, 2014.  We’re probably going to spoil the shit out of this kid, because it’s a FUCKING MIRACLE.


Three Phases of The Twenties



I forgot to mention this in my last update-y post, but I’m also a member of Boston Public Works, a group of nine playwrights who will be producing one play by each member playwright over the course of three years.  I’m very excited about where we’re going and what we’re doing and how much people can accomplish when they decide to just do it.  Check out the website, it does a good job of explaining our whole thang.  I’m excited!  But also, I am the third playwright in line so I have to finish writing a play…

Ahhh writing plays is hard!

But listen, let me tell you about this play I’m writing.

I’m 29, and I feel I’ve learned a lot about life in the past decade.  Not because I’ve read books or whatever, but because a bunch of terrible things have happened.  In the past few years I’ve attended what’s called the school of hard knocks.  I mean, I also have a masters degree, but that’s not what we’re talking about.  Also, my knocks have not been that hard, but knocks are relative.  Everybody is entitled to their own knocks.

People are like “life is hard!” and you’re like “I know” but you don’t know.  You don’t know until your life gets hard, and in my experience, that all starts happening in your twenties.  You aren’t protected from it anymore.  So I have a theory, that life in one’s twenties goes through three distinct stages.  The first is The Search for Validation.  This is also known as the Slutty Phase.  One searches for justification for one’s existence.  Usually through sex, but maybe also through relationships, friendships, even work or volunteering.  It’s kind of like screaming to the world “look at me and tell me that I am alive.”  The second stage is Loneliness.  This is when you are no longer a part of an institution and you make your own schedule.  I think lots of people don’t go through this stage until later, because maybe they go to grad school, or maybe they get a job right out of school with lots of people their own age, and they feel like they’re still on a journey with a group of people similar to them.  But it happens to everyone eventually.  There’s no container for your life anymore.  This often coincides with Drinking Too Much.  NO PARENTS NO RULES NO RESPONSIBILITIES I CAN HAVE WINE ALWAYS FOREVER I MISS HAVING FRIENDS!  And the third phase is Everything You Were Most Afraid of Has Come True.  This is my favorite phase.  This is death and loss and debt and more death.  One realizes that one is mortal, everyone around one is mortal, all the people one loves will die, and maybe they are dying right now.  Death is fucking everywhere.  Want to know why this is my favorite phase?  Because it’s horrible, it’s literally the worst thing you can imagine, but it doesn’t kill you.  It shows you how strong you are.

So that’s what my play is about.  Oh and also, the characters are three young women because more plays about young women can only be a good thing.

Aaaand now I finished writing this blog and I have to work on the play, ugh, writing plays is so hard.

Theatre Updates



Oh hey!  I did a show and it sort of sucked up all of my energy and also it was the worst winter ever coldness-wise so I mostly just watched TV for the past few months and it’s just not that exciting to blog about watching TV, so that’s all.  I haven’t posted in awhile and sorry but that’s life you guys.  Sometimes people disappoint you.

So speaking of, I did a show!  It was fun.  The play was What Once We Felt by Anne Marie Healy, produced by Flat Earth Theatre, and I played a high powered sometimes-pregnant publisher in a dystopian future, so that was pretty cool.  And other stuff is coming up that I would like to share with you, because as a feminist it is important that I trumpet my accomplishments from the mountaintop.  Or, I don’t know.  #leaningin.  I have not read that book.

Maybe I will suggest Lean In for next month in book club.  Do you ever say things and then stop and realize you are an archetype from a sitcom all of a sudden and then realize that you are not an archetype from a sitcom so much as you are an adult?  Just me?

Okay so stuff coming up!  I’m doing this fun thing called Shotz at the Charlestown Working Theatre.  The show is April 13th.  This is my second time doing it, and it’s a very entertaining and enjoyable event, you guys should come.  It’s $10 and that gets you not only a ticket to the show, but a PBR tallboy because this is 2014 and that’s how you get butts in seats.  I wrote a five minute play and it will be directed and acted by local folks and it’s all very quick and dirty, which I enjoy.  Someone gets murdered on a boat!  #spoiler.  This also involves a lot of the people I worked with on What Once We Felt, so that will also be fun!

And last but definitely not least, my play was chosen to be in the Boston Theater Marathon this year.  Wahoo!  That’s ten hours of ten-minute plays, if you’re not familiar.  My play is about abortion but it’s funny.  I will post more details as they become available, like which company chooses to produce my play and who the actors and director will be.  Also when it will fall in the marathon, it’s nice to know sometimes if you can only make it to a portion of the day.  Ten hours is a lot, after all.  The marathon is on May 11th, aka Mother’s Day, cue my mom being mad and possibly emailing the person in charge of scheduling the Boston Theater Marathon because how dare you.

In related news, I’m taking Improv 201 at ImprovBoston and it’s been a good amount of time since I took Improv 101 so now I am very bad at improv again.  Improv is hard, you guys.  Last week, I was supposed to be Harry Potter so I acted like a confused British woman holding an invisible stick and then I gave away the point of the game we were playing because I get uncomfortable when people are confused.  I’m a professional actor.

What else is new?  Not too much.  There are crocuses and I’m coming out of my winter sads and things are looking up in general.  And it’s not April Fools Day anymore, thank god.  I hope everything is going well for you.



Since I hate Facebook lately, I’ve started following Twitter more than I used to.  It’s fun!  It’s clever!  Comedians are on it so it is frequently funny.  However, I’m a little slow on the uptake with the live tweeting thing?  I get it, you tweet stuff while you watch TV or, like, are on the red carpet or at a hockey game or whatever.  Mostly it’s stuff that’s on TV?  And it is about instant gratification.  And community, even, because we’re all in this together.  Why not feel like we’re all connected on our too-short journey through this vale of tears?

I haven’t live tweeted anything yet.  But!  I have some ideas!  Of stuff to live tweet!  What do you guys think of these ideas?!

Did Daisy Poop Today?
Throughout the day, I will live tweet whether or not my dog Daisy has pooped.  This idea has great potential because not only will I tweet whether she has pooped or not, but also the consistency, location, and frequency of poopings.  Why should it only be me and Billy who are privy to this information?  The world wants to know.

How Fat Do I Feel?
This one is fairly self-explanatory.  Do I feel fat right now?  How fat?  This live tweet will include such gems as “Don’t feel fat but am ravenously hungry, going to buy a big cookie #howfatdoIfeel” followed shortly by “Feel very fat #howfatdoIfeel”.

The First Five to Ten Minutes of Live! With Kelly and Michael
Most mornings, while drinking coffee, I will catch five to ten minutes of Live! With Kelly and Michael on TV.  This is for the follower on the go, as it will only last five to ten minutes and will usually consist of one or two very boring tweets.  “Kelly’s hair is weird today #first5to10ofKellyandMichael”.

What Are People Live Tweeting On Sunday Night?
This one is a real gem.  On a given Sunday night there are many events taking place and shows for people to watch on their TVs!  This would involve lots of action packed drama.  Is Patton Oswalt tweeting about Downton Abbey or is he DVRing it?  What is winning the live tweet battle: Girls or Sherlock?  They have exactly the same audience, so, the competition is stiff!  “Annie is live tweeting Downton Abbey.” “Mindy Kaling is live tweeting the red carpet at the Emmys.” “My cousin is live tweeting a football game.” etc!  Action packed!  It’s also informative.  You may think to yourself, gosh, I do not know what Mike is talking about.  I can help you!  “Mike is live tweeting something about baseball.”  What about Patrick?  Patrick’s tweets can be very confusing!  “Patrick is live tweeting a basketball game.”  Oh.  Thanks for clearing that up.


Things I Cannot Control:

The passage of time

The inner workings of my or anyone’s body

The movement of planets


The orientation of pictures on WordPress, evidently

Things I Can Control:

The cleanliness of my apartment

The sparlkiness of my nails

photo (56)

The number of episodes of The Walking Dead I watch

How much career-advancing work I get done in a day

I’ve been thinking about control a lot lately because of how much I love it.  Oh my GOD do I love control.  It’s maybe my favorite thing.  I’m bossy and neat.  I put things where they belong and when the things are not in the place where they belong, well, something bad might happen.  I’m not Obsessive Compulsive, like I probably wouldn’t be diagnosed with the capital D Disorder, but I’m not not obsessive and my neatness is not not a compulsion.

This control thing seems to be an issue for lots of people, judging by how many helpful sayings and song lyrics and mantras refer to it.  There’s the AA classic: God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.  There’s the Leonard Cohen lyrics that have been running through my head today: Ring the bells that still can ring/Forget your perfect offering/There is a crack in everything/That’s how the light gets in.

Or there’s a crack in everything and that’s how the nothing gets in, everything is just cracked.  Like how the love seat in my living room smells like my dog’s anal glands.  That’s a crack.  What’s the light that the anal gland love seat smell is letting in?  Hm, Mr. Cohen?

ANYWAY, the point is, I cleaned  my house and painted my nails today.  And now I’m going to do some career-advancing work.  Because those are things I can control.

Also, it’s easier to do work when your nails sparkle like this.  Can’t keep these babies still.

photo (57)

And fuck you, WordPress.  This is supposed to be portrait, not landscape.  I give up.




I think something that is valuable to learn in adulthood is how to ask for the things you really want.  Do you want your boyfriend to text you with greater urgency?  Tell him.  If he’s like “ugh, I’m breaking up with you” then he is a nightmare and it would have ended anyway so isn’t it good you figured this out now?  What else do you want?  A raise?  You should ask for a raise.  You probably deserve it.  Do you want a better grade on a paper?  Fucking go talk to your professor and be like “how can I improve this grade?”  Just ask for it and work hard and you’ll probably get a better grade.  It’s uncanny how easy it is sometimes to get the things you want if you just shut up about wanting and speak out about asking.  Haha, that sentence.

Point being: my birthday is coming up!

Sometimes I say I don’t really want anything for my birthday.  For the past few years, Billy and I have gone away for a weekend to celebrate my birthday without relying on friends who are overwhelmed with holiday plans already.  We stay at a bed and breakfast in the country and go to candle stores and eat nice food.  And that’s fine.  But this year, my birthday falls on a Tuesday and the weekends surrounding it are not really conducive to traveling.  Plus we have this anxiety-ridden beagle to think about, and she doesn’t travel well.  So this year, I decided to curate Emily’s Birthday Day of Fun!  And this DoF starts with breakfast in bed, which I asked Billy to give me, and you know what?  He said sure.  Ask and ye shall receive, you guys!  Like in the bible (?).  Another thing I asked for is for my babysitting cohort to cover my shift that day, giving me the day off to fuck around and have zero responsibilities.  I asked, she said yes, done and done!

Itinerary for Emily’s Birthday Day of Fun

7:30am: Healthy breakfast in bed!  No walking of the dog by me!  Just quiet reading coffee time, with pillows propped up in a pleasing manner behind my back.

9:00am: Mild DVD exercise, in order to not feel too lumpy on my special DoF.

11:00am: Blow out on Newbury Street.  I have never done this before.  I know I’m late to this party, but obviously getting one’s hair cut is the best thing ever, because they make it look so pretty, but now you don’t even have to have it cut anymore to get the pretty part?  Why have I not been doing this always, forever, all the time?  Oh, because it’s an unnecessary expense, is why, but not on Emily’s Birthday Day of Fun!  No such thing as an unnecessary expense!

12:00pm: Special birthday lunch with my birthday twin, Nina.  We are both playwrights with weird work schedules and we have the same birthday and we are going to have some kind of ridiculous lunch, either of the TGI Friday’s/Cheesecake Factory free-dessert variety, or of the Fancy Newbury Street variety, I’m not sure yet.  Either way, it’s bound to be ridiculous!  Maybe they will bring us our desserts with candles in them!  I a little bit hope they sing and a little bit hope they do not.

2:00pm: Shellac manicure.  This is another example of a delightful beauty treatment that I love that costs too much money and is utterly unnecessary.  What else are birthdays for if not for shellac manicures?

3:00pm: Something pleasant with Daisy, maybe a walk in the woods, weather permitting, or a trip to the dog park.

4:00pm: Nap?  Read a book in a coffee shop?  This is free time!  It’s nice to have free time, even on a Day of Fun.

6:30pm: The piece de resistance: A screening of The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug in 3D at this ridiculous movie theatre in Chestnut Hill called the Showcase Superlux, where you sit in big recliners and there is a full menu.  I am so excited about this!

So it’s going to be great, and that’s great, my life is fantastic and I am a very lucky person, which is good to remember all the time every day.  In other news, there are more homeless children in New York City now than there were during the depression.  This is a great, important piece in the New York Times about a homeless child and even though the prose is unnecessarily flowery at times, it is good and you should read it.  Let us not forget that I can have a special birthday Day of Fun because I won the genetic lottery and was given every opportunity to succeed.

And now I feel guilty, said the Catholic child of divorced parents, not for the first or last time in her life.

O Christmas Tree

photo tree

The Sunday after Thanksgiving, Billy and I ran a 5K, ate cheeseburgers, and went to the delightful Russo’s for a week’s supply of root vegetables and a Christmas tree.  Billy did not want to get a Christmas tree because he is a Grinch/Scrooge.  (There are so many characters who don’t like Christmas!  He could also be a Tim Allen from the beginning of The Santa Clause.)  However, I convinced him that everything is great by singing Christmas songs loudly and poorly in the car whilst clapping.

The tree was crooked for a long time.  This version is the straightest it’s going to get, and involves some magazine-related floor-evening, but I’m pretty proud of how she looks.  She’s a skinny one this year, but her green parts (I couldn’t remember what you would call them, I kept saying “aren’t her sticks pretty? her green sticks?”) are well-formed and fragrant!

Most of the ornaments fall into one of three categories: 1.) presents from our friends from a tree trimming/birthday party we had one year when we lived in Brighton (2007??? AHHHHHH!!!), 2.) ornaments we have bought as souvenirs in our travels, or 3.) weird things made by Forty.

I may have mentioned this before, but category 3 deserves some description.  For the aforementioned tree trimming party, Forty made us an ornament out of his body hair.  We still have it, in a ziploc bag, and each year we nestle it deep into the tree so nobody has to look at it.  Maybe some day, when we have kids, whoever finds the gross body hair ornament first on Christmas morning wins a prize, I don’t know, I can’t see the future.  In subsequent years, Forty has made us ornaments that are less gross, but often sad or weird.  He drew a crying Santa and on the back wrote “This year for Christmas, Santa got Type 2 Diabetes.”  And he also made a series of ornaments of cartoon versions of the characters from his favorite Christmas movie, Die Hard.

This is all to say, our tree is not the most stylish or the least disgusting, but it has great sentimental value.

Happy official Christmas season, you guys.  May your living rooms smell of evergreen and memories until New Year’s Day, or January 2nd at the very latest.  Keep it classy.

Drunk Movie Review: Contraband


Billy and I drank a bottle of too-sweet riesling and watched Contraband on HBO Go.  Maybe there were other movies we could have chosen.  Game Change is supposed to be good.  I really wanted to watch Magic Mike but Billy wasn’t having it.  He didn’t want to watch this, either, because of my raging and honestly sort of unflattering crush on Mark Wahlberg, but look.  Look!  CONTRABAND.  This is a movie to be reviewed drunkenly if I’ve ever seen one.

It was… fine.

Billy started calling everything contraband.  It started as a passive aggressive jab and turned into the most fun thing ever.

Billy:  Do you want some more wine?  Well you can’t have it because it’s CONTRABAND.

Spoiler alert: The contraband was actually fake money, drugs, and a Jackson Pollock that all the cops just thought was a messed up tarp because cops are dumb, according to Mark Wahlberg, not me.  #supportourcops.

At one point, in Panama (obviously), the guy from Y Tu Mama Tambien (the less cute one, but still cute, but very dirty and outlaw-ish in this movie, but at least he wasn’t masturbating) is trying to steal the Pollock and is caught in this INSANE firefight with Panamanian cops and everybody is just getting shot and dying all over the place, and I decided this was the time to give Billy a lecture about gun control.  He was like “I agree with you” but I didn’t care.  I heard a story on NPR or read it in Time or something… the internet even maybe?  #journalism.  It was about how accidental child gun deaths are crazily underreported because in most states death certificates aren’t considered public record, so when they try to figure out how many children are killed by accident they can only find out about the ones people voluntarily tell them about.  Who is “them”?  I don’t know, the government or scientists or something.  But anyway, it’s usually kids killed by other kids when they’re playing, when their parents have a gun in the house, and like 90% of the kids have had extensive instruction on how to handle guns and how to respect them and they get killed by their little kid friends because they are children and can’t be trusted with anything.  They can’t be trusted not to get macaroni and cheese all over the couch, why would you trust them with a gun?

ANYWAY.  Contraband.

Later in the movie, after Y Tu Mama Tambien guy is brutally killed by cops because of art, somebody says “If you do whatever, I will cut your head off and stick it up your ass” which reminded me of this book I read about a guy who was an ambulance driver and he talks about how doctors are super gross and they keep a box of stuff they’ve had to remove from people’s butts (like a head, in the above scenario).  Little known fact: when you put something up your butt, there’s this special thing called an anal wink that happens.  What do you think that is?  It’s just what it sounds like.  That’s why people are always going to the hospital to have stuff removed from their butts.  Your butt is like a raccoon.  It takes your shiny things and it keeps them hidden in its den and it does not want to give your shiny things back to you.  Mine forever! says your butt.

This led to me and Billy repeatedly winking at each other and saying “anal wink” and losing interest in the movie.

We watched it through, though, and everything worked out in the end.

Final conclusions:
1. Giovanni Ribisi will pretty much say yes to anything, looks like.
2. I feel like Giovanni Ribisi and Edward Norton have a similar sort of “I am a weird geek kind of so I’m going to do all these movies where I’m a badass because it makes me feel good about myself”.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that.  Follow your bliss, weird geeky actor guys.
3. Oh also!  The guy from Flash Forward was in it.  I loved that show.  Disney Channel in the late 90s ftw.
4. Kate Beckinsale was fine.  But it was like that Jim Gaffigan joke about how he was distracted watching Monsters Ball because Halle Berry was so pretty, she could have gotten herself out of poverty by becoming a model.  Kate Beckinsale should move out of the crappy part of New Orleans and just go to LA and be a model, she would do great.  She’s so pretty.  Problem solved.  Mark Wahlberg doesn’t have to get CONTRABAND from Panama anymore.
5. Mark Wahlberg was totally dreamy, worth the price of admission right there (admission was $0).

It was like a B-/C+.  I don’t know, watch it if you’re bored!

Let’s Get Married, Everybody!

My awesome friends Mike and Emily are getting married next Saturday and they asked me to officiate their wedding as a friend and as a person unlikely to have a panic attack at the notion of having to speak in front of a crowd of people.  And because of, like, writing experience and theatre experience and stuff.  I mean, now that I think about it I’m super qualified to officiate weddings of non-religious people.  I should probably start a side business.  I’m also super qualified to dance with an inappropriate level of sexuality to radio hits from the early to mid 2000s, so you should probably ask me to officiate your wedding and then stick around to get the party started.  My talents are many and varied.

But anyway, I was working a bunch today on writing some stuff to say at the ceremony and I’m hoping to strike a nice balance of talking about the couple and talking about their family and talking about, like, Jesus and how he watches you have sex, that kind of thing.  Just kidding!  Guys, I’m just kidding.  Do you ever feel like priests at weddings do sort of imply that Jesus is watching you have sex a little bit though?  And he’s like super happy about it?  I get that impression sometimes.

So writing the ceremony opening statement and stuff was  pretty fun but pretty hard!  I re-read this graduation speech that I really liked and tried to use it for a little bit of inspiration, along with just knowing my friends and their relationship and everything.  Here’s the speech, it’s quite lovely.  It’s about how the best thing you can do in the world is be kind.  That’s a pretty nice thing.  And widely applicable.

Also, I got this very fancy piece of paper in the mail today from the Governor.  It has a gold seal on it and it says I have a one-day certification to marry people next Saturday.  If anyone wants to get super drunk and get married to each other, give me a call!  Best officiant ever.  Taking it very seriously.

Two Equally Important Things

You guys, I have to tell you two really important things.  The first thing is that I bought five pounds of peaches at the farmer’s market on Monday because it is the time of year when it benefits the farmers to give you a deal if you take five pounds of peaches off their hands.  If you buy one pound of peaches it costs like $3 a pound, but if you buy five pounds of peaches it is only $1 a pound, which is a ridiculous deal and doesn’t make sense.  I considered it a challenge and I bought a lot of peaches.  I have been eating two to three peaches per day since then, and it’s been working out quite nicely, but Billy is out of town today and tomorrow so I need to get rid of the remaining six or so.  So, I’m going to make a cobbler.  And here’s my issue: I feel like Paula Deen has a great peach cobbler recipe.  But Paula Deen is a racist person.  What do I do?

I think I’m safe making her cobbler recipe because it doesn’t actually benefit her directly for me to make it.  Like, it’s not like giving a donation to a Neo Nazi organization or something, that’s not how baking works.  But I will say that I do not feel good about it.  I feel distinctly ambivalent.  Can one feel distinctly ambivalent or is that a contradiction in terms?

Oh and also the second thing.  HBO is making a miniseries based on a Pulitzer Prize winning novel by Elizabeth Strout called Olive Kitteridge, starring Frances McDormand and directed by Lisa Cholodenko of The Kids Are Alright.  I got cast in a small part in said miniseries.  I have more than one line.  My character is named Female Friend.  (I might start calling her Regina Phalange.)  It’s a three day shoot and I have a costume fitting next week and I am very excited.  Stay tuned for updates about how it goes and whether/ to what degree I have embarrassed myself in front of Frances McDormand and John Gallagher Jr.  Here is a link talking about it.

Upon review of this blog post I realize I need to work on not burying the lede.