The quiet part is over. For the last year, I’ve been off the grid, living like a feral social scientist in the wilds of my own apartment. I’ve been watching. I’ve been taking notes. I’ve seen your inspirational quotes on Instagram, your nine-step morning routines that cost more than my rent, and your arguments in the comments section about whether pineapple belongs on pizza. I’ve seen you give your dogs middle names and treat your sourdough starters like a firstborn child.
And my professional diagnosis is: you’re all insane.
So, I’ve packed a suitcase full of grievances, a microphone, and a year’s worth of weaponized observations, and I’m hitting the road. This isn’t a tour; it’s an intervention. This isn’t a show; it’s group therapy where the therapist thinks you’re all part of the problem. My new hour of stand-up is ready, and it has no safe spaces, no trigger warnings, and absolutely zero interest in your feelings.
This is for the people who are tired of pretending. The ones who scroll through social media with a permanent eye-roll. The ones who know that “living, laughing, and loving” is just a decorative wooden sign away from a complete psychotic break. I’m here to say the things you’re all screaming into a pillow after a two-hour Zoom meeting that could have been an email. I’m here to hold a mirror up to the absurdity, and if you don’t like what you see, that’s kind of the point.
We’re going to talk about the couples who share a joint Facebook profile. We’re going to discuss the people who use the word “journey” to describe their trip to the grocery store. We’re going to verbally dismantle every dumb, polite, ridiculous convention we’ve all been forced to accept.
Consider this your official summons. Find your city, grab your tickets, and hire a babysitter for your fragile sensibilities. Leave your self-righteousness at the door. Come ready to laugh at the darkness, because let’s be honest, it’s getting pretty dark out there. It’s time to stop whispering and start shouting.
The website has the dates. The link is in the bio. Excuses are for the weak.
See you bitches on tour.
