I don’t know if you get good reception at the rock you live under, but just in case you don’t, we had a big election last week.  And I don’t know what way you lean, politically, but you’ll know how I do in just a sec.

Spoiler, I lean back. Here’s how.

Here are the key points:

1.  Obama won.

2.  Romney lost.

3.  Conservatives everywhere threatened to move to Australia due to this great injustice.

4.  Aussies everywhere laughed and laughed, since they have an atheist, female prime minister, something conservatives didn’t consider.

5.  Ted Nugent and Donald Trump lost their shit.

Know those things, and you’ll be a hit at any party.

“yeah yeah, tell us more. And bring treats!”

So, in the great hopes of alienating my conservative readers (though I don’t think there’s many of you), here’s why I voted for Obama and why you should have too.

1.  Healthcare

I’ve been fortunate in my life that I’ve never had any kind of medical calamity.  I’ve never broken anything, I’ve never spent more than a few hours at a hospital, and I’ve never had an infection that medicine couldn’t fix.

Yeah, you gonna die.

I also have this crazy belief that major illnesses shouldn’t bankrupt you and your entire family and that people who are really sick should be able to get the help they need.  And better yet, let’s cut down on emergency room freak outs by making sure people have access to doctors even when they’re not sick – you know, check ups.  Those things rich people do.

In theory, you should just go out and get insurance, right?  Yeah, just pluck it from the insurance tree and cuddle it forever.  But insurance doesn’t work that way.  It can be quite expensive, especially if you work for an employer that doesn’t offer health plans or if you’re unemployed.  Or hell, even if you’re self-employed and doing well.  And then there are pre-existing conditions to contend with, arguing with companies over what they should pay and what your share is, arguing with companies about paperwork, trying to find a doctor in your network, getting bills weeks later from some lab that did important blood work for you that your insurance company only paid $2 toward.  The system, as it is now, doesn’t work for regular people.  It needs to be fixed.  And anyone that’s sick should be able to get an acceptable level of care – not “no care”.

Obamacare isn’t perfect, but it’s a start.  And anyone who doesn’t believe that everyone should have access to doctors is a royal dick.  Yes.  And there are lots of other issues – taxes, laws, finding ways to seamlessly implement, how to make a system where governmental healthcare and private healthcare can coexist (for now) – but Obama at least has this issue on the table.  He makes it a priority.  Republicans don’t.

2.  Equality

I honestly don’t even know why this is an issue at all.  I couldn’t care less who gets married, unless they’re my friends or family.  I don’t know why other people care, either.  “Oh, but marriage is between one man and one woman!”  According to who?  Oh, some defense of marriage thing?  That’s great.  You know who else couldn’t get married, once upon a time?  White people and black people. And I think all of us with rational brains can agree that was a poor choice.

Where the white women at?

“Oh, but once you let gays marry, then we open the flood gates for people to marry multiple people, or their pets, the humanity!”  Fine, let them!  I don’t give a fuck.  Marry three people, marry your cat Mr. Jingles, marry a surfboard.  Two guys or two gals marrying each other is so low on my totem pole of priorities that it disappoints me conservatives place it so high on theirs.

People of the same sex love each other sometimes.  With this love comes the idea that they might want to get married and have the benefits that married couples have.  The “sanctity of marriage” bullshit that anti- equality people tout makes me laugh.  Divorces, quickie weddings, adultery, marrying for green cards, marrying for money, and multi-million dollar weddings have already stripped away whatever sanctity you think marriage has.

Here’s everything you need to know about why conservatives don’t believe in gay marriage:

They think it’s icky when the penises touch.

3.  It’s the economy, stupid.

The Republican party had a very clear objective after Obama won the first time, and that was to make him a one-term president.  That was their goal.  Before the man signed a single bill they already had plans to block him at every turn.  Here are a list of job bills blocked by Republicans in Congress since Obama took office:

The Bring Jobs Home Act

Small Business Jobs and Tax Relief Act

Veterans’ Job Bill

American Jobs Act

And then they say, “Mr. President, you’re not creating jobs.”  Fail.

The GOP, in my opinion, sold out the American worker out of their hatred for the President.  And that is incredibly wrong.  The fact that we didn’t sink into a deeper Depression amazes me.  We don’t have the sort of progress I would have liked to have seen by now, but I don’t place the blame for that squarely on Obama’s shoulders.  We have representatives in Congress that don’t look out for our best interests, they let their hatred get in the way of doing their jobs – which is making jobs.

I like Obama’s ideas.  I want him to continue his work, and now that he doesn’t have to worry about campaigning for another term, I want him to take Congress to task and get things done.  I believe in his economic vision.  I want him to be able to follow through on it.  I want Republicans to work with him, even if it’s not the popular thing to do.  And if they don’t want to cooperate, I want him to railroad them.

4.  Women

If I hear one more politician talk about rape, I’m gonna scream.  The insensitivity to women by the GOP this election cycle really upset me.  Women’s issues are important.  Allowing women control over their bodies is good for everyone.  Making the start of a family in a constructive, responsible way is good for everyone.  Making it so that women can have low-income mammograms at their local Planned Parenthood is good for everyone.

The GOP isn’t pro-life, they’re pro-birth.  Have your baby, don’t kill it, but don’t expect any help in raising that baby.  We don’t want you to end your pregnancy because it’s wrong, but you living in poverty and unable to properly educate or provide for that baby isn’t that wrong.

If you don’t want contraceptives or abortions to happen, then support the women that have babies.  You want them to keep those babies, so now you should be responsible for providing for those babies.  But they don’t want that either.  So how’s this:

GOP, stay out of my uterus.  Thanks.

So yeah, that’s it.  Here’s to another 4 years.  I hope we can do a lot of good things together.  And if you don’t like it, move to Australia.

Vacation All I Ever Wanted

I did that thing.  The not blogging thing.  But I also did another thing:


I took the boyfriend across the country to meet my family.




And it went well.  Very well.  The drive was long (long?  long!) but we made it unscathed.  And then did more driving.  And we generally ate a lot of green chile and other yummy foods cooked by my family (read about New Mexican food here).

But the best part of it, really, was that I got to experience it in a new way – with someone who loves me, and whom I love, who had never seen it before.  This incredibly sweet, considerate, adorable man saw where I grew up and who I grew up with – and he didn’t burst into flames.  I was able to share something I had never shared with anyone else, something that means a lot – and that is a victory.

Basically, I’m a big sap.  A cheeseball, if you will.  A soft, gooey center with legs.


So yes, that was my absence.  Anybody have stories of when they had their boyfriend/girlfriend meet the family for the first time?  I want horror, I want intrigue, I want calamity, I want more!

And next week, I’ll be in NYC for a raucous Halloween celebration with one of the greatest people around, Mr. Leon.  I’ll do my best to take pictures of the great costumes I see, but in the meantime, refresh your memory on sexy costumes.

Short update.  More later.


I love you.

It Gets Better?

I am not the most social of creatures.  I don’t think I’ve always been this way, in fact, I remember there was a time when I didn’t have problems interacting and being funny.  I liked it.  As in, I did it for fun and talked to people and made them laugh and didn’t think much of it.  I was happy being social, I was comfortable with being around new people, I had clever things to say, I was quick on my feet.  I wore heels more then, too.  I was a good person to have at parties.

Aren’t we having so much fun with so-and-so?

And then I got awkward and didn’t even realize it was happening until it happened.  A year and a half ago I went to a party and realized that I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.  I chalked it up to nerves and then went to another party.  Same thing.  Problem was – I was being introduced by friends who I wasn’t awkward with when first meeting, so I’m being introduced as a funny person but I’m suddenly not feeling very funny and don’t know the right words and I’m failing at being funny and winning at being awkward, which makes me feel more weird, and I’m meeting new people and unable to ask questions or come up with clever anecdotes, and they’re waiting for me to be funny and then people tell them I want to do stand up comedy and then they’re really disappointed, and then I know they’ll never come to my gigs and I’ll never make money and I’ll always be the girl who used to be funny, and then at some point I went home and made a sandwich.  Peanut butter and jelly?  Grape?  Don’t remember.

Cool story, bro.

The point is that I underwent a change somewhere and being genuinely liked became a real priority for me.  An overwhelming priority.  I started thinking too much about what to say.  And when you think too much it stops being natural.  And when it stops being natural then it’s not funny.  But this is who I am – a little anti-social, a little unsure, a whole lot awkward, a sprinkling of neurotic, and mostly eager to please.

I’m a chihuahua, basically.

So, I’m still adapting.  Coming up with how to interact with people as the older me is proving to be a challenge.  I’m always concerned about not being heard, being drowned out in a sea of funnier, better, clearer voices, being mediocre, being disappointing.

Is anyone else having this problem?  I always hear older celebrities saying that aging is super awesome, that things get better with age, and that being rich is baller status deluxe and everything’s better when you’re wiping your ass with Picasso sketches.

Maybe I made up that last part.

But I’m older and more awkward.  More me and yet more unsure than ever.  And I’m writing new stand up material (finally) and still have no idea what the fuck I’m saying.  My notebooks look like they were written by a different person.  But they’re me.  But not.


Anyway, what are some tidbits you’ve learned?  Did anyone else get more awkward with age?  I know there are “It Gets Better” videos for gay youth, but are there videos for people like me? White, late-twenties, boringly heterosexual comedians?  Surely there’s a market for me.

Let’s hope.

Fifty Shades of “Hey…….”

What have I done the past week?  Culturally enlightening trips to historical sites?  Having lively and engaging political debates?  Doing comedy in front of a crowd of drunken clubgoers?  No, friends, none of these.  I, Chrissie Adams, have been reading one of the trashiest, poorly written, and altogether “huh?” trilogies:

Fifty Shades of Grey.

But your cred! All your precious indie cred!

I’m no snob when it comes to reading.  Yes, my favorite author is Milan Kundera, but I’ll read the Twilight books, too.  I’ll read Stephen King.  I’ll read Dostoyevsky after that, maybe.  It’s all fair game.

I first heard about Fifty Shades of Grey from one of my best friends.  I had never heard about it before that and he was utterly amazed that I hadn’t.

“Really?!  Where have you been, guh?”

Under a rock, I guess, because at that point they were already bestsellers and everyone had read the books but me.  My friend told me they were kinky, but not really his thing (vaginas don’t do it for him).  And then a few months after that, my boyfriend’s mom gave them to me.  “Have you read them?”  “No, but I’ve been told I should read them.” and then suddenly I had them sitting on my bookshelf, waiting to be read.  I got bored last week and picked them up.  I’ve read the first two and have the third one left to go.  I debated on whether I should read the third one at all but I’m a “finish what you start” kind of gal, so I’ll probably get to it.

So here is some wisdom (wisdom?) I can pass on to those who haven’t read:

1.  Yep, it’s just as poorly written as you think.

The first novel started out as a Twilight fan fiction – and then character names got changed and the story was adjusted to not contain werewolves and vampires and other things that aren’t real.  But certain elements remain: girl who considers herself utterly ordinary is pursued by, and wins the love of, a hopelessly handsome and slightly dangerous rich dude.

Ohhhh, that makes sense.

Twilight wasn’t a work of literary genius, so the fact that this is based on that (however loosely) doesn’t set it up to win any Pulitzers.  And, dear readers, it won’t.  Erotic fiction is extremely difficult to write well, and with two characters having this much sex, there are only so many descriptions you can have for the same thing.  There are lots of references to BDSM and other kinky shit – butt plugs, whips, chains, elaborate sex rooms, nipple clamps, anal beads, ball gags, etc. etc.  But you know what makes this especially laughable?  With all of this raunchy stuff going on, you know what the author calls the vagina more than anything?  “Down there.”  That’s right, a character is getting tied up, whipped, and having crazy sex and the author can’t even commit to the word “pussy”.

File that one under “Comedy.”

2.  But is it kinky?

I think so.  It’s certainly got all the characteristics of kinky.  But something seems watered down about it.  I think the descriptors are a bit safe, but if you’re looking to get turned on it might do the trick.  Didn’t really do it for me.  I guess my vagina is a snob that way.

What my vagina wants to look like.

The bad writing distracted me from fully engaging in it.  The proofreader and critic in me just wouldn’t shut up and let me enjoy.  First world problems.

3.  Is it worth reading?

This is a tough one.  I would love to say, “Oh my God, run far away and never look back.” but really, reading stuff like this is fun.  Because it’s bad.  We all have guilty pleasures – bad music, bad movies, embarrassing crushes, bad art, bad food.  I could go on for days about awful things I love.


And this.

This for days.

And that’s part of the fun of new stuff.  Finding bad things, acknowledging that they’re terrible and of no great value, and having the pleasure to bitch about them because you’ve read them.

Congratulations! You’ve earned the right to an opinion!

In conclusion, they’re everything you think they are.  Do with that what you will.

Burn Your Computer After Reading

Ha.  I did that thing.  That thing where you do other things instead of blog.  I did that thing for a while.  I’m sorry.

Please accept this flower in lieu of genuine remorse.

Now, onto business, I suppose:


I’ve been in a sort of self-imposed exile from stand-up recently.  Out of laziness, mostly, but also because I’ve had a bit of writer’s block.  My material wasn’t amusing to me anymore – and when you don’t think you’re funny, the audience generally won’t think you’re funny, either.  It’s a reciprocal thing – like how dogs can sense fear and therefore act more mean in response.

This puppy? A total asshole.

Going on stage and not knowing if you’re funny is something all comics work through.  It’s a process.  There are some fantastic comics in Atlanta, many of which I’ve had a chance to talk to and know personally, and as a general rule they think about this sort of thing all the time – they just ignore it, go up there and tell jokes, and then think about that stuff later over lots of beer.  Maybe tears, too.  I don’t know.

The point, though, is that I’m not quite there yet.  I don’t have the skills or the alcoholism necessary to overcome these fears.  So, in the meantime, I’m trying to work on new stuff that reflects who I am.  Getting my voice right.  I’ve read interviews with big comics talking about going through this process for years.  Some, even decades.  Who has that kind of time?

This guy gets it.

But I’m beginning to accept this.  The only way to get good is to hurry up and be bad.  Some philosopher, who I’ve promptly forgotten, said that it takes doing something 10,000 times in order to master it.  I don’t think I’ve done anything 10,000 times.  The closest thing I’ve mastered is watching the movie “Forrest Gump” but that hardly makes a living and definitely doesn’t display my talents.

Step 1. Watch Forrest Gump 10,000 times. Step 2. _________________. Step 3. Profit!

So, in the meantime, I promise to blog more about stupid things in a list format that’s easy to read and hopefully makes you laugh.  And fill you in on stand-up, once I get that going again.

Thanks for reading!  See you next week.


Inspirational quotes for the everyman.


A quick “hello” to new followers who found me on “Freshly Pressed” last week.  Very cool for you guys to stick around.

Hanks says hi.

Now, on to business.

On Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Pinterest, etc. I’m always bombarded with inspirational quotes posted by well-intentioned friends.  I have a somewhat problem with this.  What’s a somewhat problem, you don’t ask?  Think of the lyrics to Alanis Morissette’s song “Ironic”.

Ah, gotcha.

And I think my problem with them is that, sure, I’ve read quotes that I’ve liked that have spoken to me in a personal way, but every day?  Does every day need a quote from a famous person?  Or better yet, the ubiquitous “unknown” person quote – where no wisdom can be attributed?

No.  Some days you need them.  Most days you don’t.  I’ve made custom pictures for you to put on your Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, etc. on those non-inspirational days.  The days where you’re doing your routine, no further motivation needed, but you still need to update your social media with something because you don’t have anything to say.  Enjoy!







Maybe more tomorrow?  Which one’s your favorite?  Feel free to make your own.

For the adventure

On this most recent birthday I turned 28 years old.  2-8.  2 years from 30.

“We’ll go ahead and get this warmed up for you.”

And, all in all, it was a great birthday.  I spent it with a man I love.  I ate a giant fucking steak (which is now a prerequisite for all good days).  I got a hug from my mom.   I recollected on the past year and felt good about it.  I checked Facebook to see all the happy birthday messages (far less than last year and years previous – but all quality wishes).  I wondered about next year, next birthday, and then birthday after that.  I came up with a list of 5 things I’m looking forward to when it comes to getting older.

Thing I’m looking forward to about getting older #5 – Looking good for my age.

I went to dinner on Thursday night (for the aforementioned giant fucking steak) and the waitress says

“So, do we have a special occasion?”

And my boyfriend says, “It’s her birthday today, actually.”

And the waitress asks a question that never gets asked.  “How old are you today?”

I pause.  Did she really just ask my age?  Most southern women don’t ask that.  But I answer.  “I am 28 years old today.”

“Really?! You don’t look 28!” (my waitress is asian now – fuck you)

You’re goddamn right I don’t look 28.  I’ve got genetics on my side, son!

And that’s what I want.  I want every woman that ever pulls the crazy stunt of asking my age to immediately regret the decision.  I want to explain that I have a Hispanic mom (ethnicity one-up), I wear sunscreen everyday, and I have a round face which always makes people look younger.  So I’m looking forward to shocking people when they ask my age the older I get, because chances are, I’ll always look younger than they expect.

“You’re goddamn right I don’t look 95. Gotcha, bitch!” (yep, I’m asian and toothless now – fuck you)


Thing I’m looking forward to about getting older #4 – Talking about things that were around when I was “your age”.

I’m a sucker for history.  I still remember when you got charged for the internet by the minute.  I remember typing a report on a typewriter in elementary school.  Oregon Trail.  Popples.  Pee-wee’s Playhouse.  I love that shit.  And now, I can tell you how much I love that shit because I have time on my side, buddy, and you have young ears for listening.


I, personally, find it sometimes boring when older people tell me about things they liked or places they went because I don’t always understand the context.  But I also understand that age gives you the right to bore young people…and I’m cashing in those chips…with a vengeance.


Thing I’m looking forward to about getting older #3 – Hating everything you like.

I don’t understand a lot of what people 5 years younger than me like.  10 years younger, I’m even more lost.  And kids?  I don’t know anything about what they like.  And if getting older has taught me anything it’s that if I don’t understand it, I hate it.  I will hate it because it’s new, I will hate it because you like it, I will hate it because you’re younger than me.

Seriously, kill yourself. No, don’t ask, just do it.

I’m too young to be crotchety but there’s a certain anger that springs up from seeing the world liking things without you. New things happening without your input or consent.  Things changing that you liked just fine before.

“Mom, you don’t understand, once I go to sleep everyone I like has a party without me. Grab my coat.”

But at least I’m old enough to hate that.  Hearing teenagers bitch about new things is like a sapling bitching about seeds – you were JUST THERE.  Give it some time.


Thing I’m looking forward to about getting older #2 – Gray hairs.

I have a few of these.  My brother has more than a few of these.  My dad started going gray when he was in his early 20s.  Gray hairs are fun because they embody all of what is cool about being older – with time, who you are grows into something different.  I’ve purposely stopped coloring my hair to see the grays come in and have not been disappointed.  They’re especially fun because their characteristics are completely different from your other hairs – they’re thicker like some optic cable and stick out in weird ways.  They could give a fuck what they look like and don’t care what you do…much like old people.


Thing I’m looking forward to about getting older #1 – Figuring it all out.

I’m not old.  I speak of all these things like I am, but I am thankful for the youth I still have.  But I’m getting acquainted with the idea that one day I’m going to wake up and I won’t be young anymore.  I’ll have wrinkles.  My body will be less spry, less springy, less agile, less cooperative.  That doesn’t scare me as much as it used to, though it still makes me uneasy at times.

“Greetings, it’s the old age fairy here to bestow tidings of achy joints, saggy skin, and crippling regret. Sleep well.”

But it happens.  And while I’m getting older, I’m becoming who I’m supposed to be – the person that was behind all the youthful shenanigans, blunders, and stupidity.  The person that needed those things in order to grow.  I’m more “me” now than I’ve ever been before.  I know who and what I love, I know what I like, I know what can happen, and I’m looking forward to taking the time getting to where I ultimately need to be.  Where will I be a year from now?  Five?  10?

Not knowing is part of the fun.  Happy 28 years, me.  You earned them.