That One Time I Saw A Guy Do A Dirty Deed In His Car.

I was driving back from my gigs in Phoenix this past Monday and during the 6 hour trip I thought about a lot of things.  I stressed about my career’s trajectory,  wondered if Stamos even cares, and I also reminisced about that one time I passed a guy who was aggressively jerking off in his Ford-150 while driving on the highway somewhere in between Hilton Head and Charleston, South Carolina.  I’ll get to that later, but first this memory got me to thinking about all the silly, dangerous, and dumb shit people do when they drive.  As I was passing vehicles, I started to stare right into their car, just to see what people do in the comforts of their RV mobile homes, SUVs and Honda Civics.  What I gathered was shocking, funny, gross and very unnerving.giphy

I’ve broken down the most popular activities based off of my own “Pelustatistical Research Program” or “P.R.P.”  Here’s my scientifically studied breakdown of what you gross/reckless bastards are doing whilst conducting heavy machinery on wheels:

76% of drivers are picking their nose. Violently.

What is it about getting in the car that makes you slobs dig into your schnoz like it contains all the answers to the universe?  You know who you are, SHERYL in the ’95 VW Bug with the “MMMBACON” license plate.  And I’d hate to check the snot-stock pile you have accumulated under your front seats! Monsters! I can’t deny doing this myself.  Diggin’ in my nose while driving is one of my fav pastimes.  I’m single.


37% of drivers are applying makeup.  Like they’re on the new season of Ru Paul’s Drag Race. 

Bitch, I know you need to look good but lets not crash through the median and take out a family of 6 while you’re contouring down Route 66!  I mean, if it’s that serious, it only takes 2 minutes to apply lip gloss and mascara-just wait until you arrive at your destination! IMG_0002 If you’re still not feeling right and are going for full on Kardashian contour-realness then pack a Halloween mask and just own it.  Let’s be real, your lipstick color won’t matter when the ambulance worker is complimenting you post-mortem.  Wake up earlier, give yourself more time, and apply your “just-got-back-from-vacay bronzer once you get to the grocery store or wherever it is you’re getting all guzzied up for.  I usually go to the grocery store red carpet-ready!

97% of drivers are texting.  Even the old bastards! (*At this point, a few of you are probably confused by the percentage breakdown.  DON’T BE! The Pelustastical Research Program transcends conventional mathematical equations!)

I’m not going to lie and say I’ve never done this, but I now restrict my in-car texting to red lights and/or while in line at an In N Out drive-thru window ordering a “double double” after a gig at 1:15am.  But you monsters that drive at top speed and text nonsense while doing so are basically the spawn of Satan because it’s only a matter of time until you kill someone.  It would behoove you and the rest of the population to wait to send your tit/dick pic until no one’s life is at risk.  I sure as hell don’t want to die so you can send “be right there” to your weed dealer.


15% of drivers are eating cereal. CEREAL. FROM. A. BOWL.

Of ALL food to take with you on the road, you chose THE most non-portable item maybe in all of history.  I have so many questions!  Where did you keep the milk? When did you prepare this meal? Are you a gremlin?  Have you heard of a burrito?  While you’re eating like a careless 5-year-old driving a big wheel the rest of us are concerned for our lives.  No one deserves to die because you all of a sudden got a craving for Captain Crunch while on the road.  The only crunch will be the sound of my body being smashed because you decided to also drink the remaining milk from the bowl.  ANIMAL.



65% of drivers are singing to themselves.  

This is the only safe and agreeable driving pastime I condone.  I do it and do it loud!  If the Adele station comes on Pandora, forget it!  I bring that THIS IS THE VOICE realness right into my SUV driver’s seat.  “Christina Anguishlera” is my stage naaaa-aaa-aaa-aaaaaaaaaame!  Singing releases endorphins and stress.  And I know a majority of us probably sound like a pig in heat being branded when we sing, so saving your American Idol finalist moment for a drive is the perfect time.  Just don’t close your eyes during the chorus of Sam Smith’s “Latch” remix.  I see you, queen!


Stop doing your makeup, texting your ex and eating soup while you drive! Take the time alone or with your friends in the car to enjoy the moment and lovely scenery.  I like to work out imaginary fights in my head while I drive.  Try to be a little more considerate of the frailty of life, you selfish whores.  I love you!

*Oh! The guy jerking off, right! Well I was about 16-years-old on a road trip with my friend Amy and her mother.  This guy had been purposedly driving slow on the highway so we’d have to pass him.  When we did, was jerking off rather aggressively and stared right at us as we passed him by.  I know what you’re thinking, who DOESN’T want to whip their dick out while driving alone through God’s country in an American pick up truck, passing strangers at 79 MPH?!  With all that horse power under your ass, how can you NOT yank your junk like you’re rollin’ dice on your last $20 at a craps table in Vegas?!  It’s science!  Not to mention, that sweet Southern/Conservative mindset mixed with a dash of lingering racism always gets me exceptionally horny!

Thanks for reading!



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The Definition of Happiness.

What really makes you happy?  Have you ever put some honest thought into this generic question? A lot makes me “happy.”  Cheeses, Pizza, Macaroni and Cheese, (deserving of upper case.), my 3 pound puppies, tequila, a nice Pinot Noir, a fat blunt, also my family.  The list goes on.  But only after this past year of going through complete personal hell, (of which I’ll spare you the details now but can promise a full disclosure of my personal trauma will be constructed into digestible joke format for my comedy special later this year), did I come to a real answer. More specifically, yesterday, after I smoked a fat blunt and walked my dogs, did I answer the question: “What makes me really happy?”


I know you want the fuckin’ answer now, right?!  Like, RIGHT THIS SECOND! Well that’s one way to never feeling happy: being impatient.  What an amateur! Slow down, chill out!  Let the moment percolate for a minute.  You know that saying, “Life is what happens when you’re busy planning for it”? Well, there’s some truth to that.  So calm the fuck down and smell the roses/cannabis before you miss the most important parts of your life, which is here and now.  Yea! Get all hippie with it and take a few minutes each day to connect to your soul.  Turn your off the Twatter, Crapchat, Farsebook and Instascam and just BE! Get ya mutha’ fuckin’ ohm/aum on!

“It is a moment when the petty worldly affairs are lost in the desire for the universal. Such is the immeasurable power of Om.” ~The power of Om, 

I began my morning ritual like I do everyday: wake up, fart, greet my 3 pups, they fart, then I make a smoothie and check the abyss that has become the internet for shards of validation.  Another rookie move! Thinking the acceptance of strangers can truly make one happy, when all it does is temporarily fill that void that resides in the Cruella de Vil part of soul.  Which is basically the underlying root of stand up comedy, getting strangers to laugh, so you feel good about existing.  But as comics know after that comes the self-loathing phase, followed by going back to the drawing board of writing more jokes, with a tad of threatening to ‘quit life’!  Alas…new inspiration! Rinse and repeat.


Out of no where it was 3 o’clock and my 3 dogs: Carlin, Chaplin and Bunny (FYI: All rescue dogs! Do I think this make me a hero? In their saved little eyes, FUCK YES!) were all looking at me like, “If you don’t take us out soon, we are going to make your rugs look like Apocalypse Now from our buttholes!” So I loaded them into my car, took them to the ocean, smoked a fat blunt and thought about what makes me truly happy.  I stopped at the top of a hill, overlooking the ocean with my dogs running around and found the answer.

It’s John Stamos. DUH!

But second to Stamos, third to weed are my family and friends.   My true friends motivate me, inspire me and cry-laugh with me (you know who you are, Justin Martindale!).  They get me through the hardest times and celebrate with me in my best.  If you’ve seen me without make up, consider yourself family!  My parents and sisters have supported me through ALL of my ups and downs, bad boyfriends, good boyfriends, bad breath, good farts.  It’s spending time with my people that makes me happiest!  I was thinking of a specific moment yesturday during my nature walk, that inspired me to write.  The moment was experienced just this past week when I made a quick trip home after gigs in NY to see my family in Syracuse.  I was at my childhood home with my father, mother, her boyfriend BOB, (you’re not from Upstate NY unless your mom has a boyfriend!), my brother-in-law, sister Emily and her baby, my nephew, Elliott.  With two “L” and two “T”s because my sister is Donny OCD!  And I saw the joy Eliot brought to all of us and I realized that was all I needed.  To see this cherobic angel-baby make us all realize this moment is all we have, and it’s enough.  Then he shit his diapers.


Remember, happiness is possible.

Thanks for reading!



p.s. Someone please put in a good word with Stamos for ya girl! 








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It’s My Birthday And I’ll Get High if I Want To.

I got high on my birthday and blogged about it.

I started this blog a thousand years ago.  And due to things beyond my control, like procrastination and distractions of the tequila-fashion, I haven’t posted here in quite some time.  But that’s all about to change because it’s my FXCKING birthday and I decided to get high and blog about it.  The alternative was to sit here and stare at this screen and wait for inspiration to strike.  But as all amazing artists such as myself know, inspiration comes from external stimuli.  Sometimes found in the form of a muse, a song, or a big, FAT, joint!

Lately, I’ve been that asshole, vaping all up in your personal space.  I vape E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E!  Airports, Target bathrooms, (that %5 discount seems so much sweeter when I’m puffin’ the reefer!), your baby shower, funerals, you name it.  I’ve left a puff of wizard cloud in most places I venture to.  But for this special occasion, I decided to use my new paper roller to roll myself a proper “fatty”.  I couldn’t figure out how to use the FXCKING thing, which I’m sure, my 6 year old nephew could figure out right away.  (I’ll have to remember that for next time!) I scoped out a few paper rolling instructions videos on YouTube and realized there are A LOT of stoners out there! LOL!


Hey fam! I’m right here!  I should mention, I did smoke prior to using my paper roller.  I mean, come on!? Am I expected to roll a J without smoking one first? I’m a fxckin’ professional.  And my Honey Bear Farms ORGANIC weed never does me wrong!

How To Use A Joint Roller!

After about 437 attempts, I achieved success and rolled a delicate wizard-wand fit for this delicate birthday princess’s fingers!  Then I rolled another one, and another one.  Then, I thought, YO! I should smoke as many J’s as years I’ve accumulated in life.  Then I realized 34 joints would be a bit excessive, so I resorted to only making 5.  Which coincidentally, is the same number I smoked. (I shared one with my good friend, Justin Martindale who got as high as I am right now and did Delilah impressions.)  I think that was a safe compromise with myself.

Ok, here’s a photo of my wizard-wand:


Come to mama!

Birthdays are overrated anyways.  I sound like a such a cunt but they are.  What am I gonna do? Put on 67 lbs of chemically processed makeup and go pay an exorbitant amount of money for watered down blue drink at the latest “hot spot” full of dumb twats just looking for the right dumb cock to leach onto so they have to exert the least amount of energy possible to survive in this world as apposed to actually doing something with their lives to become an intrinsic part of society?  Nah. I’m good.  I’d rather sit at home,unshaven, with a bottle of wine and a jar of weed with my 3 rescue dogs who never judge me for being bra-less and dusty for the 4th day in a row.  That’s my true nirvana.

I’m not an angry person, I just don’t give a fuck about the social constructs of how I’m supposed to celebrate the day I was born.  It’s not like I did anything special, in fact, I put my mother thru an enormous amount of pain just so I could make her change my diapers for 16 years.  My math may be a bit off there, but you get the point.  Birthdays should be fun and spent with friends.  If that’s what you need.  For me and my over analytical brain, birthdays are a mere reminder that I am one breath closer to my last.  LOL! I bet you didn’t see that macabre turn, did ya?  Yea, DEATH!


Now there’s something to celebrate! How DOPE would it be if you could know when you’re going to die so you could throw a REAL “going away” party!  Especially if you’re already an adult?! You could plan THE BEST Dearly-I’m-Almost-Departed Party EVER!  I’d finally tell that one friend that no one give a FXCK that her 2 year old knows Spanish!  DUH! The nanny is raising Triston! I would shit on my mom’s neighbor’s lawn for being such a twat to her all these years! I mean this woman tried to sue my mom for squirrel damage. SQUIRREL DAMAGE!  I’d lit a bag of my own shit on fire and chuck it at her stupid face. I would also do nice things like tell my parents how amazing they are and that my sister is the reason I found comedy.  But I’d also invite my cousin “Diamond David” just to let him know I have always thought he was a thieving cunt and he smelled like every guy ever convicted of child molestation.

PHEW.  Hold on.  I need to take a puff…


I dye grass,

As I was saying..

I think as an adult, birthdays have taken on a different importance for me.  With each impending birthday I experience more anxiety about getting older and my gorgeous boobs starting to sag.  But I also think birthdays suck when you’re a kid.  You can’t drink booze, you can barely handle solids, and you’re DEFINITELY going to shit your pants! Well, I have shit my pant a-time-or-two during the more recent birthdays but none the less, it’s MUCH more socially acceptable to shit your pants at your birthday party if you’re within the ages of 0-12.


“Baby Trashes Bar in Las Palmas”


I’m not planning on dying soon, but I just think it’s strange that as I’m becoming more mature, the less important certain things become.  It’s also strange that weed has become more influential in my life ever since I moved to Los Angeles in 2014.  I’ve smoked weed for years but that sticky icky became more of a character in my life as of late.  When I lived in NYC, it was all about drinking your crotch off until 4 am and hopping your sloppy pirate-drunk twat into a cab, vomitting out of the car window on the way home not before threatening to turn the cabbie into immigration if he didn’t take you to a McDonald’s drive thru so you good get a ‘CHEZBURGR CUZ YOU DEZERV IT!’

I always treated them to a small fry for the troubles.

LA’s vices tend to center around cannabis, so instead of a baking a birthday cake, I got baked.  I realized that a joint is very similar to a birthday cake.  It has to be set ablaze.  Everyone gathers around it, sings songs and laughs.  You pass some around to share with your friends and family.  You celebrate the moment, and wishing for ones not yet celebrated.  And for a split second you can stop time and enjoy being present.  Either that’s really poignant or I’m THAT MUTHA FXCKIN’ HIGH!  I guess I realized I’d rather be present that get a present.


That being said, all birthday gifts can be sent to:



c/o Justin Edbrooke/Jessimae Peluso

2000 Avenue of the Stars

Los Angeles, C.A. 90067


It’s good to be back, and I love you all!





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Why do we care about Kim Kardashian?

By now, we’ve ALL seen Kim Kardashian’s ass, NUMEROUS times via various media portals.  Her ass has gotten more media attention than the Ebola crisis, cancer research and the ASCPA combined.  Kim’s “ass-tention” has even surpassed one of the first ladies to put ASS on the map, a TRUE O.G. of ASS and talent: J.Lo! That’s the thing! Kim Kardashian, among a few other chicks out there, was able and allowed to do all of this without ever holding any shred of an accolade.  She slipped thru the cracks, HA! HA!, never having to display any real skill or contribution to society other than her looks and…ASS! Having an “ass” has now become the same as having a “talent”, in this self-indulgent and social media-obsessed culture.

I’m fxcking annoyed because of how Instagram decides to handle their content “restriction”.  The content I’m referring to in this case is Kim’s latest photos taken for Paper Magazine.  If you haven’t seen these images you’re either: A: LUCKY or B: LIVING UNDER A FXCKING MOUNTAIN!  That could quite possibly be Kim Kardashian’s backside!  Her photos weren’t anything more (or less) than her leaving absolutely NOTHING to our imagination.  Classic K. Kardashian Style….

Kim K's famous Paper photo.

I MEAN ARE YOU KITTEN ME RIGHT MEOW?? (Let the record show, I LOATHE using socially trending phrases, but it’s TOTALLY warranted in this case!) Let’s state the obvious here, she is DOUSED in Crisco. Right?! I mean, there’s NO way that’s extra virgin olive oil, we all know no one is a virgin in that family unit.  You may be moaning right now. Don’t you even turn on me for stating the obvious based on the facts that we’ve been dining on for 10 seasons from #KUWTK ! She has her ENTIRE crack out for us to enjoy.  A crack longer than a sleek highway, just with a much cheaper toll.  HEYOO!  The one thing people have been asking, is she standing inside of a trash bag? Is that a Hefty right now? I can recognize an extra tall kitchen bag from a mile away!  That’s the ONLY appropriate part of the photo!  The trash being put out in the trash. (Come on! It was an easy joke, calm down!)  Her hair-do also REALLY pisses me off for some reason! It reminds me of how I try to get my hair to look when I haven’t washed it for 8 days. I love that she’s looking over her should as if surprised there’s a camera in the room.  That’s how she got into this mess, with her face near a camera and a giant black meat cleaver.

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