xylopoet

I wrote this standup comedy set for an open mic tomorrow night. Ty.

Philadelphia, it’s a pleasure to be here. City of brotherly love, gotta appreciate that. It’s cool being from here, and having been born here with my twin brother. It’s as though the intelligent designer was like, why not make one genetically a brother half, and place her in the city themed that. And i am all like alright, just give me a tall ass body & i’ll be shooting some bball outside of the school.

I did grow up on a basketball team. And as i comic, perpetuating stereotypes is a top hobby of mine. Its funny because in social settings, occasionally a comment will come up about how i am kind of giant, and someone will ask, “dO you play basketball?”. I never get offended, but another person in the circle always tenses up, overly sensitive, and gives off the vibe like, “oh no… are you saying that all blacks are rappers, all asians are manicurist, and all tall people are basketballers.” And it’s like okay guys, lets just settle where the truth will set you free - while there are always exceptions to classic assumptions, you better believe that a woman like me takes advantage of her height stereotype to bang the hottest athletes available. Cheerleaders go home with the team captain - I’m the supermodel on the side. Swapping a shortie for your shawty, in our secret 6 foot and up club. It’s me, picking up crushes with a quick flirt sesh on the court followed by refreshments. Not gonna be me at a fancy restaurant exchanging career stories on a date; you n me 1-on-1 March Madness, you win and come the autumn i will wear your diamond.

That said, you can find me at the gym. The gym is just a recreation center for everyone on dating apps. Im a runner - i do the treadmill. When i first start out, often times a man will get on the treadmill next to me. Okay sir… if you are still running by the time my workout is complete, i will give you my number. I’m like a Victorian damsel - prove your worth, knight, and i shall make you my king. 5 minutes into our race to our potential wedding day finish line… they always slow down. Im at my 1st mile at 8 and half minutes, and they’re trying to make eye contact with me, but im like how do you expect me to want you if you can’t last? This is the animal concrete jungle… I want a peacock with the most impressive tailfeather. I look over to the barbell section, and see a guy bench press double his bodyweight. Now, there’s a bear who seems protective of his queen bee. But unfortunately he’s on too many steroids to hear my mating call.

Anyway, on natural selection, my mom is always telling me, “just marry a rich man”. And i’m like no way, i am too much of a feminist for that. It would have to be a woman I marry for money.

im a recovered alcoholic. I appreciate your applause, thats mostly why i do it, for the attention from it. I will say, nonetheless, a dictator i am most powerless over would have to be… my sweet tooth. I craaave sugar; like a fructose fiend. i have a ferocious habit of midnight snacking. 12am means its time for a food party - only invites are me, myself, and i. we indulge like royalty on a fine feast, from the corner store where ebt cards are accepted. One of my favorite confections is Sugar Butter Toast. you guys ever enjoyed sugar butter toast before, let me tell you, that’s when you take a huge glop, not a dollop, not a slice from a stick, a massive spoonful of spreadable butter and slam it on toasted bread. then, you dump a mound of pure white sugar cane on top. i awake in darkness, hop out of bed, and find myself in the kitchen, in the nude, hooked on snacks, and my boyfriend shouts out from the bedroom, “what the hell are you doing its the middle of the night!?” Im all, “just leave me alone and let me do this sugar butter toast!!”. All foaming from the mouth and whatnot. I don’t need an e-cig after this fourth meal either; so lucky to be alive having traded poison for soul food; and the wisdom to know the difference.

I can’t even pretend like i only have one guilty pleasure. I literally love reality television. I have been here since season 1 of The Bachelor. And Survivor, where they place strangers stranded on a deserted uncharted territory, and observe their behavior. Like mice in a tank, amatuer actors and actresses will volunteer to fight about fishing for food on national television to give millions of viewers something to chuckle about in the lunchroom of their corporate workplace. Reality tv rules! I obviously support local business - I watched The Jersey Shore. On mtv, remember? For me, it gets to a point - much like a real addiction - where it’s too much to handle, and that’s when i love it the most (tehe:)). The more trash talk, the more drama, the worser scenarios - it’s like consuming a high - a gripping trip where nothing else exists besides my emotional entertainment in the gossip between Amanda and Chelsea being so brutally honest that Adam can no longer in the right mind have feelings for Emily but it really doesn’t matter since she began hot tubbing with Julius even though he is a player far too into landing DJing gigs at farmers markets because it pays well and his Visa is up in six months so we’ll stay tuned to see if it’s gonna work out or deportation. It’s fun to watch!

I will share with you this and then that’s my time. There is one reality tv show.. I feel like im a dealer like, yo everybody, sneak onto Hulu and watch this one… the show is called Love Island. Anyone heard of it? Okay it’s so funny though. It’s literally the same premise with 100 flavors; like a brand of television: the remake of a circus. Love Island is 5 girls and 5 guys in a mansion, getting friendly until all 5 are paired by the end of their contract / season finale. The host asks, “Sarah, what do you like in a guy?” And she goes, me mocking “Tattoos. Not blonde. And the biggest red flag is if he does not own a yacht!” I’m like, where are you from where owning a yacht is a personality trait to your basic standard? The next dude was equally questionable. He goes, “I’m looking for the one. I have cheated my way out of all my past girlfriends. When i was young and dumb, i didn’t care. (He was 25). But the first redhead i see, i know she is the one.” I’m like, what logic are you on, thinking a single attribute, hair color at that!, qualifies the most important decision of your life? That’s like saying, okay i am going to live forever in any country my finger lands on once i spin this classroom globe… ready… and you move to Spain but die alone since they're all brunette.