Dying is Easy, Comedy is Hard

            I wrote this for a comedy class I took years ago. It bombed at a stand up show I did, maybe it's funnier in writing.

         Hi I'm Alisa, not THE Lisa just A lisa. By the way I'm not fat, I'm Rubenesque, in fact I could go for a Rueben. I spent years developing this physique. Do you know how much food and alcohol I had to consume to get this gut? I'm not giving up all that hard work. Besides I'm saving this fat for a rainy day.

         All my life I thought I was crazy cause I didn't fit in, then one day I was reading the Bible- the psychology bible known as the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual

(DSM for short) and the truth was revealed to me- I have (deep breath) Autism Spectrum Disorder. I'm not nuts, I have a fashionable neurological condition that makes me obsessive, tactless, and self absorbed. Yeah my brain is fucked up but not like so called "normal" people.

         There are a lot of misconceptions about ASD. Some people asked me if drugs can treat it. No, but I take them anyway.

         A friend gave a marijuana brownie to calm me down, and take an hour for effect. That long? I like my drugs to be quick like intravenously quick. Wine, beer, whiskey, I know it's good in ten minutes. In an hour I'll forget I ate the brownie and . . .um where was I?

         Speaking of wine, how hard can it be to open a bottle? Either it's a simple corkscrew that requires an arm like Schwenegger or a Rube Goldberg device. It's just wine for God sakes. Break it open on the edge of counter, drink, repeat.

         Drugs make people stupid. The same idiots who insist their food be healthy, organic and locally sourced will score god knows what from some dude they just met in an alley behind a dumpster.

          I didn't intended to live in Eugene for 30 years but it's like the roach motel, you can check in but you can't afford to check out. Every day I have to deal with smart ass college students posing as hip baristas, old gluten free hippies and lily white liberals trying too hard to act like they care while stepping over the homeless on their way to a pilates class.

         Meanwhile in neighboring Springfield you have to dodge drunk ex loggers in pick up trucks with a gun rack headed back to their trailers and crappy beer.

         Neither scenario makes for a decent dating pool. An ex boyfriend showed up one day to show off the sports car he bought-for his wife. It wasn't a friendly call, he was looking to get screwed. Ok I said, so I stole his car. No, I'm kidding, I stole his credit card and bought a porche. Let him explain that to the wife.