This is the best day of my life!

Oh my god! I am so excited! This summer, I, Clown Girl will be appearing in the greatest show of all time in the best part ever!

I'M THE SCRATCHING POST IN "CATS"!!!!


 The director told me I was absolutely perfect for the show. I was really nervous at callbacks, I wasn't sure that I was going to get it. I wore Cat ears and whiskers to get in character. When the cast list was posted, I WAS SO AMAZED TO GET A PART!

SUCH A GOOD PART TOO! IT WAS MADE FOR ME!!

I AM SO TALENTED. I'm going to go get into character right now. I have a scratching post back story and everything. When I was little, Mama scratching post died from cat bites, and I was left on the streets to fend for myself. Now I'm a hard-core street smart scratching post, who hates peas and wants to hook up with Mr. Mistofolees.

I am the scratching post. Be. the scratching post.

I BET I MIGHT EVEN GET TO BE THE SCRATCHING POST IN THE BROADWAY REVIVAL!

New Books for Kids!

When I was a kid, books were lame. They didn't teach me anything about the world other than to ask questions like "Are you my mother?" to a duck. And you know what's frustrating about that? The duck NEVER talked back.When I walked up to it and went, 'hey duck, are you my mother?' it just kind of looked at me with these evil little duck eyes and then darted back into the water to catch fish or hatch eggs or do whatever it is that ducks do.

I always had the feeling I was adopted, and I think that dumb duck was avoiding my questions. I bet it IS my mother and is scared that if I found out now, I would ask it for money for college or get it on Jerry Springer.

  Damn dead beat duck.
Alliteration! YAY.


So here are a couple of revisions to popular Children's literature.

By Clown Girl: aspiring Children's Author


"Clifford the Big Red ANGRY Dog"

Clifford is a dog with anger management issues. He is pissed off because he is gigantic and red, and get's a lot of crap for it from the other dogs. No one ever picked him first for their fetch team growing up, and Clifford battles with depression and an addiction to alcohol and dog treats in college. After a brief stint in rehab to get clean, sadly, Clifford develops an eating disorder because he is so damn self conscious of being so big. He also starts smoking to try and stop gaining weight. Later, he gets his act together with his therapist Cody, and is doing fine. He even gets a great job at a marketing agency in San Francisco and comes out of the closet to his mother. He meets his life partner, Fido and they adopt a siamese kitten. Yes, everything is peachy for Clifford, until he tries to go blond, and unfortunately his fur just turns orange. So now Clifford is a Big ORANGE Angry Dog.

Who smells a sequel?
----
Okay seriously, in The Cat in the Hat, don't you guys think that the Cat should be charged with breaking and entering? Has anyone else ever noticed how wrong it is that he was able to just mozy on into Sally and "I"'s (lame name, I wonder what 'I' stands for. I wish he'd told us. Just a guess: Itzy?) house and starts destroying their stuff?  Also why do the parents leave the kids alone? I mean when my mom left me and my sister home alone this one time when we were kids, I tried to microwave bread and the fire department had to come. I'm also pretty sure my sister and I tried to beat each other up, and we definitely charged like six pizza's to my dad's credit card-so those parents were asking for it in "The Cat in the Hat" as much as mine were asking for a burnt down house because we didn't have a toaster.

 In Conlusion,
I propose:

"The Cat gets hit with a Bat"
So basically, the parents leave the kids alone, yada yada. "I" and Sally sit playing with their toys, and they are feeding the fish. They hear something crash. The lights shut off. They get scared. They start to creep around their house and they see these HIDEOUS BLUE HAIRED THINGS! Sally calls 911 and the SWAT team comes and kills Thing 1 and Thing 2. The Cat starts to make a run for it, but then Sally hits him with a Bat. The police arrive, the Cat gets arrested, and his drug ring is busted. He has to go to court, and face charges-which in an interesting twist, turn out to be more than he bargained for when he is charged with the murder of "Sam I Am". If you ask me, Sam I Am was asking for it when he kept asking people if they liked green eggs and ham. Cause that was really obnoxious.

Xoxo,
-Clown Girl

I hate "The Sound of Music"

When I was six I got lost in the grocery store. I got bored waiting for my mom at the meat counter, so I decided to walk away and play supermarket safari.  I hacked through the frozen peas forest, waded through the amazon-cheese river, and killed all the snakes in the bread section. When my mom realized I was gone, she ran around like a lunatic trying to find me, but couldn't since I was hiding in the pet supplies aisle buying food for my pretend pony Sir Lancelot and my pretend cat Giggles. This lady finally found me performing a cabaret show for the vegetables, and probably thought I was mentally retarded since I was singing "Rain Drops on Roses" and spinning in circles.
 Anyways, my mom was angry with me, and I didn't get ice cream for desert that night.

And that is the story of why I hate The Sound of Music.

I'M A MONSTER!

I knew this was going to be bad the moment I saw the coffee shop's Christmas gingerbread cookies on sale two for one. (Three month old gingerbread is good by me-as long as there's icing!)

 But I didn't know the consequences. I didn't know that I would be hurting this poor beautiful creature. WHY RUDOLPH? WHY? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO BE A COOKIE?  AND WHY DID YOU HAVE TO BE SO DELICIOUS?  YOU HAD SO MUCH TO LIVE FOR!  WHY COULDN'T YOU BE MORE LIKE YOUR BROTHERS DANCEY AND PRANCEY, WITH REGULAR NOSES THAT WOULDN'T BE SUCH A TASTY TREAT? Your antlers were so good, and so were your hind legs-but I felt terrible but-MM... tasty..

 NO!WHAT HAVE I DONE?

I hate myself.

R.I.P.I.M.T (Rest in Peace in My Tummy) 3/2/2011.

xoxo,

-Clown Girl

Founder of P.E.T.A.C. (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animal Cookies)

"Creativity Killed the Cat"

There are a lot of things that I wasn't born to do. Painting or drawing, (flashback to my childhood:"LOOK MOMMY I DREW A PICTURE OF OUR FAMILY!" "...thats a squiggle."), baking, (I always eat all the ingredients before I can make them into anything), and math (The square root of X marks the spot, right?), but I was born acting. That's right, when I came out of my mom, I wasn't really crying like most new borns, I was using method acting.  I was pretending that my doctor was my dog Scraggles who'd gotten hit by a car, and that's why I was crying-not because I was breathing air.

You know how when you're little you're supposed to play house? Well...when I played house I was the mom, dad, sister, baby, brother, AND pet alligator. Sometimes I let my friend G. be the family dog because otherwise she bit me. 

At six I got sent to the school psychologist after pretending to be a Cat instead of participating in the reading circle. I kneaded the carpet with my claws, I meowed, and I walked around on all fours.  They didn't understand that it was an acting exercise. I mean REALLY. outrageous. 

DAMN IT. SO MISUNDERSTOOD AS A CHILD. AND AN ADOLESCENT. AND A FETUS. 

Actually, that wouldn't be the first time I would be sent to the psychologist. I also got sent there when I stole the class turtle and stuck him in my lunch box to free him in the park, when instead of presenting a project on immigration and ellis island in second grade I just spoke with a russian accent similar to my grandfather's and talked about drinking vodka, and when I convinced my sister that she was actually the one responsible for making the crack in the liberty bell when she stomped on the ground after a family trip to Philly and that we had a brother named Stan who my parents sent to Korea which would happen to her if she was bad. 

I think I also would've been sent to the middle school psychologist for writing a musical about an elf trying to make it to Broadway with a pet reindeer named Rudolph who gets hit by a taxi cab once they get to New York, but we had a pretty awesome 8th grade english teacher.

I am a creative spirit. When I was applying to college I wrote a letter of acceptance to Harvard for my dog P., and had my whole family confused for a little while. It had a letter head and everything. P. also has a match.com account for any of you ladies interested out there. And J. Date. 

Maybe this blog will help me use some of my creative energy for good.
xoxo,
-clown girl