holycrapimyourmom

I wrote this to my baby when she was still living in my belly, cockblocking me from all the fun things I used to love to do, like drink in the morning and run a fight club. Now my Bo is here, kicking ass and taking binkies. She's an LA kid, so she'll be totally fine.  Anyhoo, here it is!  PS. The end is hormone fueled. Oxytocin man, it's a mother fucker! ;) Dear baby,   As it seems you will be born right here in sunny LA, I feel it is my duty as your mom to alert you to something called the "bullshit” factor here. It refers to the many, many, many times someone will say something to you that may not have the exact meaning of what they intend. This is a universal phenomenon, but here in LA it’s considered the second most widely understood language. Honestly, I'm pretty sure it's tied with Spanish (which you will also be learning because I really want you to teach ME!). Here are a couple of examples of phrases you may hear that I w

Or, living room in our case. See, we live in a one bedroom apartment at the moment, and while it's a good sized one bedroom, it's still just a one bedroom. When it became clear that my kid wouldn't dare sleep, pardon me, allow anyone at all to sleep,  if we were anywhere near her person during night time hours, we surrendered our bedroom, along with our bed, clothes and other accoutrements in order to ever get any rest again. We now sleep on a futon in the living room, which technically means the name of this post should be "Married Sex: How To Keep it Hot in the Futon!" Sleeping on a futon in the living room of our one bedroom is EXACTLY as sexy as it sounds! You know what's even hotter than that? The things we say to each other to keep the fires of passion lit! Here is a top ten list of the sexiest sentences uttered by my husband or myself to either get us, or keep us, totally in the mood. Warning: this is entirely NSFW (Not Sexy For W-anyone!) 10. &qu

Recently my husband and I took our little babe on an airplane for the first time. Needless to say, we were both very nervous and not looking forward to that experience. While eager to have her hang with her grandparents and meet her cousins, we were convinced it would be a total shit show.                                           The Cobbs before take off, bracing themselves! Because flying typically sucks anyway, my old man and I always have a bit of a routine. We get to the airport a little too late, talk shit about all the people who bring way too many bags to check (Jesus, lady, it's a three hour flight from LA to Memphis, why are you checking 14 moving boxes?!), talk a little more shit about the asshole in front of us in the security line who can't seem to remember to take out his laptop before going though the metal detector, and is baffled and offended that they made him throw out his practically empty water bottle, (Dude, you're 40, how do you not know ho

When I was a little kid I loved Christmas SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO much. We would travel to my grandparents house in Wilton, CT where we would decorate the tree and listen to Bing Crosby sing White Christmas, and sometimes it would even snow! On Christmas morning my brother and I would race downstairs to find that Santa had come and left piles of presents! He also really liked the cookies we left out, and he even left us a note thanking us, which mysteriously looked like my Grandfathers handwriting, but I had no time to do junior detective work, I had a million presents to rip open like a wild animal! As I got older my excitement for the holiday didn't wane, and even after learning that Santa wasn't real, and it was my family the whole time playing him, (I KNEW that handwriting looked familiar!) I still really enjoyed the occasion. It was fun to sit around with my family and do Christmas-y stuff. My Grams would smoke her Kent's and laugh a lot, Gramps would collect the wrapping pap

I recently broached the idea of raising Bo to be an only child and weighed my feelings about it in addition to assessing how I felt about other people's feelings about it. I mentioned in that post that my own mother, Carol, is an only child, and I wanted to get the low down on what it's like to grow up as the only, and a couple of extra, super hard hitting questions to set the tone. Enjoy! 1.  Hi there. I understand you are in fact Amy's mom. What was that like?  To be totally in love with this tiny creature who amazes you more and more and more each day, each year. From the first successful nursing to the first bite of mashed banana, from the first smile, and step, and word, all the way through Delilah Dix and Assistance. And beyond! 2. Amy recently gave birth to baby girl named Bo. What are your true  feelings about her name? Her name is brilliant! “Bo,” with the requisite long vowel sound. The simplicity that states, right up front, “I’m here and I’m not som

Dear Downstairs Neighbor, Welcome to the building/neighborhood! I hope you're adjusting well to the valley and have familiarized yourself with the shops and grocers! Valley Village is a wonderful place to reside, and I'm always here to answer any pressing questions regarding the local fair, so never hesitate to come on up! You know, speaking of pressing matters, I did have something I wanted to discuss with you, neighbor. I heard from our landlord today and your name was mentioned, and sadly she told us that you made a noise complaint against us. Huge bummer!  She said something about how you, our brand new neighbor who's been here less than two weeks at this point, told her that we were too loud, we "dropped things" on the floor sometimes, and that our baby "cried on occasion" which was incredibly inconvenient for you. My goodness, wow! I am so sorry we were bothering you so much! Let me be the first to apologize for our garish behavior, and pleas

Dear Humans, If you're like me and a majority of all the people I know, today, November 9th, 2016 has been a very dark day. The day after the the most unlikely of candidates, Donald Trump, with his hate speech, racism, sexism and gutter class behavior, shocked the nation by claiming the highest position in American government as the President of the United States against who we all revered as our hero, Hillary Clinton. It has left us as an astonished and confused nation in a fog of sadness and anger. It's a weird, awful time. And on this day, November 9th, 2016, my daughter, Bo, turned 15 months and decided it was time for her first steps on her own. Amongst the blackness, confusion and fear that we were all experiencing there was this lovely, big blue eyed, blonde haired angel of a silver lining toddling her way around my kitchen. It felt like the most perfect analogy ever. Bo taking her first steps on this, one of the most disheartening days i have ever experienced pers

My daughter, Bo, is about to turn 15 months. She's so lovely and I have to admit there have been many times when I've mentioned to my husband I would like to have another one, but the fact is she may be the only kid we ever have. I am totally fine with this, since she is completely bad ass and perfect, natch. When other people ask me if we're thinking about having more kids and I tell them that there's a good chance she'll be my only, I get: "Oh, come on, she can't grow up without a brother or sister! She'll be lonely!" or: " You simply cannot deny her the experience of having a sibling! It'll make her weird!" However the most common is "You can't raise her as an only child, she'll turn out to be an asshole!" This comment usually comes from someone I either know very, VERY well or someone I have just met who knows I'm a comedian and thinks I'll laugh. Fair enough, well played, and to be honest I us

Becky was my first editor at one of my freelance writing jobs for AfterParty Magazine. She's not only kind and lovely, but just an all around badass. I feel so lucky to know her even a little bit, and honored she would write something for this blog. So without further adieu, ladies and..ladies (probably), here it is! I’m Trying to Raise a Son Who’s Not a Dick By Becky Sasso I’m not gonna lie. The day I found out I was pregnant with a boy I cried all the way home. Until that day I was certain my baby (which Pinterest told me was about the size of an avocado or apricot or some shit) was a girl. I had all kinds of fantasies about how I would be the most strong, positive, badass mom to a girl ever. I would finally have a captive audience for all my hard-won wisdom about how to do a perfect French braid and being a woman in a country that basically doesn’t give a shit about you unless you are a white man. My fantasy daughter and I would rock matching hairstyles and she would be a

Dear Mr. Trump, I, like every other human woman on the planet, think you're pretty disgusting, and with this weeks leaked tape of you bragging to Billy Bush about how you're so famous that you can just grab women by their pussies, and they're totes okay with this, have only furthered our feelings of utter disgust. However, I'm grappling with the whole "grabbing" a pussy thing. Not only because it's abhorrent and pathetic, but because I'm having trouble wrapping my head around the mechanics of it.  You see, Mr. Trump, vagina's, pardon me, pussies, are pretty hard to grab. They're innies, not outies. You have an outie, sir, which is a lot easier to grab, but in order to "grab a pussy" I imagine you'd have some challenges. I've been really thinking about this, making diagrams and conducted a series of experiments on this subject, and here are my findings.  In order to really "grab" a pussy one must not onl

When I was 22 I wore half tops. When I was 22 I got so hammered at a party that I walked through a screen door. When I was 22 I did Ecstasy a bunch. When I was 22 I would drink and drive a bunch. When I was 22 I thought my tits were the best things about me. When I was 22 I would talk shit about all of my friends behind their backs. When I was 22 I would smoke cigarettes. When I was 22 I showed up to an interview drunk. When I was 22 I thought blow jobs were "fun". When I was 22 I would do cocaine. When I was 22 I shaved off all my pubes. When I was 22 I would go a tanning salon. When I was 22 I thought I didn't have to pay my bills. When I was 22 I would have road rage. When I was 22 I had a tongue ring. When I was 22 I thought 30 was old AF. When I was 22 I had to move back in with my parents. When I was 22 I was in a cover band. When I was 22, I was an asshole. I made stupid decisions, said stupid things and behaved stupidly basically every day of my

My husband just gave our 13 month old baby a plastic bag to "play with" as he worked on his fantasy football draft. I walked in the room at the exact moment she was putting it over her head, ripped it out of her hand and saved her from potentially suffocating. I shot my hubs the old "whatinthefuck?!" look I've perfected over the last couple of years, to which he replied, "What?!" He later admitted it probably wasn't the best decision he's ever made. Sometimes men don't make good decisions. Oddly, all of the bad decisions that have affected our country for the worse for so long were made by men. Interesting. So how come some people are still hanging onto this "how can I trust a woman to make all the decisions for me?" shit? Essentially, if Donald Trump is elected,  not only will he let this county play with that plastic bag until they suffocate themselves, he'll give them to you as a free gift when you buy his crappy stea

My husband just gave our 13 month old baby a plastic bag to "play with" as he worked on his fantasy football. I walked in the room at the exact moment she was putting it over her head which could have lead to her suffocating. He later admitted it wasn't the best decisions he's made, even though he was standing right there. You know, most men don't always make good decisions. In fact, all of the bad decisions that have affected our country for the worse for so long were made by men. So why are some people still hanging onto this "can a woman with all her emotions make good decisions for our country" shit? Essentially, if Donald Trump is elected,  not only will he let this county play with that plastic bag until they suffocate themselves, he'll give them to you as a free gift when you buy his crappy steaks that he got passed as a bill as the only meat Americans can buy. I don't know about you, but I'd like to keep on breathing. Hillary

My husband just gave our 13 month old baby a plastic bag to "play with" as he worked on his fantasy football. I walked in the room at the exact moment she was putting it over her head and suffocated herself. He later admitted it wasn't the best decisions he's made, even though he was standing right there. You know, most men don't always make good decisions. In fact, all of the bad decisions that have affected our country for the worse for so long were made by men. So why are some people still hanging onto this "can a woman with all her emotions make good decisions for our country" shit? Essentially, if Donald Trump is elected,  not only will he let this county play with that plastic bag until they suffocate themselves, he'll give them to you as a free gift when you buy his crappy steaks that he got passed as a bill as the only meat Americans can buy. I don't know about you, but I'd like to keep on breathing. Hillary Clinton for Presid

I have been a struggling comedian for as long as I can remember. Like, years and years and years. Sure, I've had some successful moments and of course me doing stand up lead to me meeting my husband which lead to me having my sweet baby (and ruined butt hole. If this reference doesn't make any sense, please scroll down to one of my previous posts regarding the butt hole business). I have had a million day jobs in between comedy work, begun projects that have failed miserably, produced shows that only one person has attended, racked up insane debt in order to do festivals, and once bombed so hard that a dude heckled me with "Kill yourself!" I have auditioned for hundreds and hundreds of commercials and shows, been put on "avail" and not booked so many times, cried in the bathroom after sucking at a big audition, yelled "I'm fucking quitting!!!!" to myself in my car on the way home from a terrible audition, and have eaten my weight in feelings i

Since I've had my baby things have changed quite a bit. In addition to the regular things that change (sleep, eating, social life, sex, peeing when you want, showering daily, day drinking, etc...) what I watch on TV is so much different. I LOVE the horror genre and I have on many occasions had some scary movie on at 2 in the afternoon when a friend would drop by and be a little disturbed, which I later decided was really just a veiled impressed!  Obvs since I have the Bae I can't just turn on Saw 4 while she's having lunch and expect her to not grow up to be a serial killer. Other shows I can't watch anymore include: Intervention, Hoarders, Cops, Real Housewives of anything, actually anything with the words "Wives", "Flavor", "Love", or "Tour Bus" in it. Those days are long gone, but luckily in their absence I have rediscovered the joy that is Sesame Street! This show is so delightful and hilarious, and since being produced by HB

And now Parenthood Theatre presents for your viewing pleasure an improvised dramatic play entitled "My Mother is an Asshole and Won't Let Me Eat This Plastic Bag for No Reason!" Don't worry if you're not a theater person, this is a super short show with only one act and not much of an arc. In the first scene we see our lead characters, Mommy and Bo, who are out on an evening walk with their sweet dog, Dave. Things are great at first and as Mommy and Bo make their way through the serene setting that is Valley Village on a cool, late summer evening, life seems perfect. However things take an abrupt turn as Bo discovers the plastic bag on the leash that was reserved for Dave that Mommy was clearly keeping from her in an attempt to torture her in some way. The next scene depicts a triumphant Bo and naive Mommy, who doesn't realize that her baby daughter has decided to put the potentially dangerous plastic bag in her mouth while Mommy, in her blissful state

You know those scenes in movies where someone, usually a dude, says something inappropriate and the strong women that he offended so carelessly throws a drink in his face? And the man always takes it sheepishly, showing with a look that he knows he fucked up and shouldn't have crossed whatever line he did to get that drink thrown at him. Then he gently dabs his face with a napkin while the woman storms out and hails a cab, not looking back to see if he chases after her, which of course he does. Then, later in the story after we see a montage of them both moving on, her more successfully than him, there is a scene where the guy calls and leave a message on her answering machine, or writes her a letter from Spain where he went to gather his thoughts and he apologizes for whatever he did and begs to see her just one more time. We've all fantasized about something like that, right? Showing that guy that his garish behavior deserved nothing less, and he got off easy if you as

I brought the baby to one of those baby play places today so she could hang out with other babies and I guess establish a hard core baby gang or whatever babies do at this age. Most of the other mommies or nannies were about my age if not older, and I soon struck up a conversation with a women who had a little girl about the same age as my Bo. She was effortlessly cool with wavy dark hair and skinny jeans that split at the knee. She had an easy laugh and laid back style that people instantly think of when they picture the inhabitants of Southern California. When it was announced that the babies had free play and the parents were to step back and relax for a while she and sat next to each other and gazed at our sweet playful babies crawling around on the mat. After a few moments of oohing and ahhing and snapping pics on our phones: Me: This place is so great, right? Her: I love it! Such a fun environment! Me: Totally! Are you here every week? Her: Yup! Like clockwork! Me: That'

People ask me all the time what has changed the most since giving birth to my daughter. Lack of sleep? they ask. No, that hasn't been too bad. Stretch marks? No, I'm okay in that arena. Peeing a little when you sneeze? Well, I always did that. I have to say the one major thing that did change and will never go back to the way it was....my butt hole. Yup. Butt. Hole. My asshole is ruined. Probably forever, since it's been over a year since having my kid and it's still a war zone. Hemorrhoids have become a part of my life like shaving and the Kardashians. This is one of those things that NO ONE TELLS YOU! Look, I don't do a lot with my asshole except the stuff it's designed to do. It's exit only for me down there, because I am a goddamn lady, though no judgment for those who are into that. In fact, I'm a little jealous that I didn't do more with it before it became a crime scene because that is now officially off the table. But I have always been

Man oh man, I used to be fuuuuunnnnnn! When I lived in New York for 10 years in my 20's, I could tie one on, then somehow get it untied and left on the tracks of the subway, find it later after it was dragged up by an industrial sized rat or mole person (that is a thing) tie it back on and keep my ass partying! Yeah! There was this one time where I started my day with an endless mimosa brunch, followed by a wine bar in The Village, followed by...something. Then I came to at a tattoo parlour in Brooklyn not entirely sure how I'd gotten there. The tattoo artist was in the middle of telling me they wouldn't be able to work on me because I was too hammered, but I cut them off by running outside to puke in front of a cop car. Luckily they weren't in the car at the time, which cued me to pee there too. Long story short I woke up the next day around 6:00am on the front stoop of someones brown stone in The East Village clutching my purse. I could've slept for longer, but a

Something that no one talks about in the parenting community is that most likely you will get postpartum depression. It's shockingly common and totally sucks. However, if you do experience this do whatever you need to do to care for yourself and know you will be fine. Some people have horrible experiences with it. Non stop crying, no interest in their kid, thoughts of suicide or running away. Some don't even know they're going through it. Some are like me, a person who has grappled with depression their entire lives and take precautions to avoid it through medication and awareness. In any case it still occurs and it sucks. I have dealt with depression since I was 10. Early on to realize that life sorta sucks sometimes, right? Yeah, I know. Depression blows no matter how you slice it. It's annoying and tiring and cliche. It's hard to be around and hard to understand. It's gross. With my background dealing with what was at times debilitating depression,  I was

In addition to writing brutally honest thoughts, fears and events that mom's experience, I also have cultivated a dream blog. That's right, I made your weirdo dreams come true! I made an instagram dedicated to babies wearing wigs. You're welcome!!! https://www.instagram.com/babiesrockingwigs/

When I had my baby, pictured here, everyone commented loudly on how she didn't look anything like me, and everything like my husband. I started to feel like I had nothing to do with it! However these pictures are all the proof I need that she is indeed my kid! I have been known for my flexible face, or as casting directors in LA refer to is as, "the reason I'm not booking as much as I should be". I have lot of expressions, which is not a bad thing, for the record. Anyhow, these are a few pics taken of my baby and I making some very similar faces. Also one of her punching me in the face and not breaking. She's such a better comedian than me and was right off the bat.  God, I love this kid!

Seems appropriate to start at the top, right? First of all I had the idea for this blog during the second trimester of my pregnancy with my daughter, Bo, who is now 1. I was naive to think I would continue on being all cocky and cunty about being a mom. I would declare "Look, I'm going to have this kid and still live my life!" to anyone that would listen. "This kid is going to adapt to my schedule and be a comedy kid!" I would chortle. My sketch team, The Mutiny, an LA based group I'd been with for about two years at this point would nod and smile, sort of amused, sort of uneasy. "I will fucking do sketch and comedy with this kid on my tit FOREVER!!!" I had NO IDEA. None. At all. Not about how hard it is to be a parent, because it is. It's so fucking hard. And not about how much my life would change, because it does exponentially. Nope. The truth is I had no idea how much I could love this human person who came bursting out of my body lik