Bring It Up a Bit, Writing Therapy

The Full Transcript of My First Stand Up Performance at Push Comedy Theater

On Tuesday August 9, 2016 I graduated from Push Comedy Theater‘s Stand Up 101. For our commencement exercises, we had to write and perform five minutes of stand up. Because I don’t follow directions well, I wrote eight minutes of comedy and I had a really good time doing it. It was great fun to make light of my strict extended family and this crazy neighbor I have who’s always saying weird stuff to me (he recently asked me if my neutered dog was now a homosexual).

On the daily now I hear these questions:

When did you want to become a comedian? Where did this come from, Marrissa?

My answer is simple enough: writing and humor are both of my passions. Stand up comedy puts the two together and you have no idea what validation feels like until a room of people guffaw at your witticisms. So basically I feel like Tracy does…


In November 2015, I joined, a site where members can sign up and immediately start annotating their favorite song lyrics and television scripts and even the Bible entire transcript of Beyonce’s Lemonade visual. And within a few weeks, this really cool moderator, known to the community as “ewok”, promoted me from feeble Whitehat to powerful Editor of (I’m one of many editors, but it sounds much cooler when I capitalize the E).

And because I’m a part of this wonderful community of writers who envision a world wide web where people can learn what’s important or cool or funny or wack about every website there is, I’m posting my stand up transcript.

That’s right: I want to give the Genius annotaters a head start before I blow up too much. So here’s the video again of my first time on stage, if you missed it:


And the full transcript is below. Enjoy taters and friends:

Hey, give it up for your MC, Hatton, let him hear it! Yeah!

That’s great, now let’s talk about me. My family is super religious. Anyone else come from a religious family?

Yeah? You do. Fellow zealots? Welcome.

Let’s take Christmas, for example. A holiday, right? A day off for some people. A celebration for others. It’s 5 AM, the house is packed with people, kids are skipping about, there’s presents under the tree, Christmas music is playing, “Shigga-hand, shigga-hand.” And then, it’s inevitable. There’s gonna be that one person that says, “Okay, let’s start the prayer circle everyone!” (sighs) Oh God. “What did you say?” “Oh God, thank you for this day…”

And don’t let “outsiders” come over. That’s a thing in my family, called “outsiders”. They won’t even bother to learn their names. “So Marrissa, is this your little friend?” “No, aunt ‘Nay, this is my husband, Danny, of 7 years. He comes here every Christmas?” Doesn’t matter. Outsiders are always little friends.

My family’s religious to the point that Scientologists are taking notes on us. John Travolta’s asking about my next family function like, “Tell me more, tell me more! Do you walk in the light?/Tell me more, tell me more! Are your aliens white?”

Like even Jehovah’s Witnesses won’t come to my grandma’s house. They’re standing in the street like, “Billy! Connor! Russell! Huddle up. All right, everybody, our quota for souls today is 60 people. Fix your tie, Billy, Jiminy Cricket! You look like Jiminy Cricket! And whatever you do today, promise me you won’t even go near the Patterson house! Connor, I don’t care if we miss quota, okay? The Watch Tower will get over it! Last week, she almost converted you!” Connor’s in the huddle like, “Oh happy day! Oh happy day!” And that’s a joke about the most popular gospel song ever written!

Even if we tried to play perfectly wholesome games, like Monopoly. And when you ask somebody, why not, we’d get shut down. My uncle Ted would say, “Jesus didn’t play with dice, baby, so neither do we.”

My family was so serious about religion, not only were we forbidden to swear, we couldn’t even say the word “swear”, it was that serious. Like we would always have to substitute it with “promise”. One time, we were sneaking in a game of Monopoly in my grandma’s front room and I kept landing on my cousin’s property. I said to my cousin, “Day-day, doggone it! If you charge me one more time, I’m about to go bankrupt! And you know Jesus says we’re not supposed to borrow! Ugh, I promise.” It just doesn’t have the same effect, at all!

My uncle Ted, especially, was good for a lecture. One time, I’m at the house and I accidentally said “Shit!” My uncle Ted starts in immediately with, “Now baby, Jesus wouldn’t want you promisin’ like that? You know better!” And I’m like, “Okay, uncle, but can you get out of the bathroom now? I have to stand up to flush it.”

So my dog, Roscoe, he has to poop, too. (pause) And that was called a transition. I didn’t say it was a very good one. Like the other day, I’m walking Roscoe and he’s doing his business, as expected. And so this guy who lives in the neighborhood, who I’m 100% sure is a drug dealer, is walking on the other side of the street. And I don’t want to talk to people. So I get real busy taking out the poopie bag (make plastic bag sound effects). But this doesn’t deter my local dope peddler and he comes across the street towards us like, “Hey! Why are you picking that up? You can just leave it on the ground, it’s all natural!” And I should preface here that this is a walking side effect billboard that we’re talking about here for the anti-drug campaign. Like the Crypt Keeper got out of his coffin. And when he gets to us, he says, “That’s organic, baby!” Like, he roots for the “Oakland Organics” or something…and they just scored a touchdown, yeah.

And so now that he’s gotten closer to me, I realize he’s here, not for chat, but to give me his sales pitch. He says, “Ayo, sis! I got some excellent dope for you to try. It’ that ‘Pressure’, just for you!” And I’ve already confirmed within myself that I will never be purchasing any drugs from this man. Like sir, the amount of flesh on your bones signifies that your drugs equal death. I want no parts. And so I play dumb, I’m like, “Pressure? I don’t need any pressure right now, man, I just got these new tires, so I’m cool.” And so he switches it up like, “Aye, sis, I got that fire, for real! Come holla at me.” And I say, “Fire? But fire and pressure make an explosion, sir. I want none of that!” Now he starts to get mad and he’s turning into Nino Brown. He’s like, “Aye, I’ve got a eighth for a dub, you down or what?” And I don’t really know anything about prices or amounts or anything, so I’m like, “Well…I’ve only got five dollars man,” and Nino shouts, “Sit your five dollar ass down before I make change!” And I start to panic like, “Holy shit, Nino, I swear I’ll buy your drugs!” And he’s like, “No need to swear!” and I’m like, “Holy shit, okay, I promise I’ll buy your drugs!”

It’s not over. In that moment, Roscoe, who’s been all pent up with anxiety over the exchange, just drops a terd nugget right on his shoe. And we’re just both shocked. It happened so quick. But now I have my out. I’m like, “Oh no! Roscoe’s not feeling good. We’re just gonna go home.” And as I run away, the guy’s behind me like, “Hey! You’re just gonna leave this here?” And I turn around to yell back, “That’s organic, baby!” and then I hightail it home.

Hey that’s my time, I’m Marrissa!

Coaching, Inspiration, Writing Therapy

Weight Loss and Wellness Coaching: Finding your inner strength to lose weight

Hi Friends,

Obesity continues to provide the CDC with alarming statistics for the death rates of Americans. I’ve encountered many people who believe the big fat fatties of the world would lose weight if they just try to lose the weight. Those people should recognize, however, that most often obesity and living for a prolonged time being overweight is actually a symptom, NOT a cause.

Perhaps it was the death of a close family member or friend that causes you to eat more, or the consuming doom of depression that keeps you from the gym or even a past guilt, pain, anger, circumstance, grief, etc. predilects your self-destructive nature. You’ve probably tried to lose weight, but it hasn’t happened consistently and every time you “fail” (whether perceived or legitimate), you choose to withdraw and the guilt of being overweight is washed over you all over again.

Once we understand that obesity and the state of being overweight is a symptom and NOT a cause, we understand that we must root out what is the cause and subsequently remove the cause from the equation, using a vast array of tools, including but not limited too much praying and buckets o’ tears.

Personal story time:

For me, the cause for my 15-18 years of being overweight was a feeling of being un-whole. And those holes were so empty. Somerimes, to be safe, I would hide there in the roots of my depression. To hide the holes from myself, when I needed to appear okaybon the surface, created a lust and zeal for food. I began to fill those holes with food, which for me was every bit comforting.

But I did this strange thing. All the eating, coupled with a complete lethargy and vice for sloth, the pounds just kept coming. And major life setbacj or victory could be sure to correlate positively with my size. So I hid under clothes, and behind my Jansport backpack, and behind the jokes, because I still felt too exposed. I was lying directly to everyone about who I was, and no one could see me for who I really was. I resented people for believing that lie and I’m sorry for that. God told me I needed to remember to love his people. So thank you to the world, who saved me. My mom, my grandpa, my Dad, my grandmother, a host of aunts, uncles, cousins by the dozens, grands, great grands, and all that who got down on their knees to pray for me. set s whole new meaning to comfort food.

My Breakthrough:
My breakthrough came when I realized I had log ago believed a lie someine told me. The truth is in the light. But in those shadows, those lies run rampant. And what with my insecurities, I often picked up the lies. Some I discarded almost immediately because I was able to easily discern them. But in a weak moment, I picked up a lie or two that stayed with me. For years, I lived under the misguided belief that one’s beauty is defined by what you see. But why would God give us four other senses and innumerable other gifts and talents if we only needed sight to see the beauty of others?

Once I changed my thinking (or shifted my paradigm for the Stephen Covey fans) I beame overwhelmed by the truth. Heaking is defined as the revelation of truth. And surely, my soul was healed. Surely (church hum). The truth was this: beauty is NOT defined by what’s on the outside (DUH)! But true beauty is measured by the love in one’s character and the beauty of their downright soul. With this epiphany, I came to the conclusion that I WAS, in fact, an extremely beautiful person and worthy and whole and AWESOME.

From there, all I needed to do was push my physical body to start reflecting the beauty within me. I deserved it, after all. I am now a self-proclaimed gym rat and healthy eating is now a part of my lifestyle! How exciting for me! And right now, I don’t care who knows it. You shouldn’t either!

Real Talk

Come on — how many times have you met a person (maybe family member, friend, boo thang) who, by society’s standards, would be considered hideous. But when they open their mouths or you make a connection with them, quite suddenly they become the most beautiful person you know.

Once the inner strength begins to shine (and you stop with the moping and the anxiety) your body has no choice but to step its game up and bring your sexy back.

Action Items:

  • Go get sweaty. Live an active lifestyle — doesn’t really matter what you’re doing (gym, rock climbing, walking around the neighborhood). As long as your heart rate is up, you are on your way to wellness
  • Repeat positive  affirmations to yourself while you’re getting your sweat on. I mean not one single negative thought about yourself. Push yourself here.*
  • Forgive yourself when you make a negative remark about yourself. Promise me that you will not crush yourself under the weight of your own guilt!
  • Once your body feels like it’s inner spirit has it’s back, I guarantee you’ll start sweating harder, your heart will beat faster and you’ll get closer and closer to having an outer body that reflects your inner light, strength and beauty.
  • Don’t cheat.
  • Work hard.
  • Stay the course.
  • Be strong.

Tweet, Facebook or comment and let me know how it goes!


Inspiration, Writing Therapy

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick-self. Therefore, trust the physician and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility.

Khalil Gibran

QOTD 07 04

Short Stories, Writing Therapy

Interested in a writer’s circle?

It would work like this:

  1. A group of writer’s get together and form the symbolic “circle”.
  2. Each writer comes to the table armed with a story idea. Or maybe it’s any sort of idea, I don’t know…
  3. The other writer’s would contribute to the outline and story progression of each idea, writing their words and contributing their creativity to the story.
  4. Each writer will have 30 days to write before passing it on to the next person.
  5. Once the story has gone through each writer’s hands, we publish it on the internet.
  6. Once we’ve edited the story, if we feel like it, we can publish the story.


What do you think? Would you be interested in a writer’s circle?


Comment and let me know!

Freeverse, Writing Therapy

Future Memories


The corners of my mind confine time.
The true memories play in rewind.
Our memories refuse to stay behind,
Complacent with overstepping the line,
We’ve defined

Those sweet, distant memories
Those once infant memories
Like the moon replaces the light, memories
Let it loose inside, great memories

Remember the sultry summertimes?
Days spent wrapped in hammocks, favorite pastime
Nights spun in wanderlust of our passion prime
I miss you today, a cruel love crime


Light the corners of my mind, memories
Let go the tears of behind, distant memories
Can’t wait to share these memories,
Soon to be precious memories.


Bring It Up a Bit, Grieving Still, Thoughts. So Many Thoughts., Writing Therapy

I’m going to start posting a few short stories I’ve been writing.

I’ve been writing a few stories lately, based off ideas and random thoughts that have come into my head during my commute or at work or just in reflection of my day. In what little spare time I have or when I’m grieving and I try to withdraw from people, I’ll just sit and write out an outline for my idea. Once I’ve got the outline, I don’t move until I’ve written 500 or 800 or 1000 words.

It’s SUCH a fulfilling exercise. When I’m in the zone, I get really raw with my writing. Just bare bones I throw out every thought I’m having about the subject.

I’ve been googling hundreds of topics about writing, especially how to write better. One author on eHow suggested writing with comeplete unabandon — geniuninely reflect on how you once wrote when you were a child. You didn’t think about the perfect words, or even about editing as you wrote. You just wanted to get your thoughts on paper – editing was an afterthought. (This is an ad lib FYI.)

This advice alone has accounted for over 5000 words written this weekend. Not exaggerating. What terrific advice it was for me. I was in my own zone this weekend. It felt great. I wasn’t worried about judgements of my writing or reactions to it. I just ran with every single thought I had in the moment. Even if it was bad. Especially if it was bad! Because I know that when I go back to edit, I’ll be better able to correct a terrible piece of writing than having nothing written at all, if that makes sense.

Certain topics to look forward to in these stories:
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