I was raised to apologize. This is why "stop saying sorry" is a cornerstone phrase in all of my relationships. My whole life is just one big apology to the world. I'm sorry to inconvenience you. I'm sorry if I snore or make loud eating noises. I'll try not to breathe. My sorry's tend to be more of an inconvenience than the inconvenience I'm apologizing for. These sorry's are annoying an unnecessary. They're a bad attempt at getting negative attention. But at this point my self-esteem is convinced that "no attention is bad attention." Idiot. So even when something good happens to me (which it does, a lot.), I feel so grateful and undeserving that I am unable to accept it. Sorry's turn into thank-you's and thank-you's back into sorry's again in under an hour. I'm sorry. But thank you.

Visit my new website at www.meghanhounshell.com
I will be keeping meghanhounshell.com up to date with show info, pictures, audio, perhaps some video, and of course, I'll be blogging!
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Shmexercise

So I've started "exercising" at Doug's apartment almost daily.
Prepare yourselves.
I'm going to be deliciously and unforgiveably sexy.
And I'll wear the same red dress every day because I like red dresses but I still won't have any money. Thus, I'll only be able to afford the one red dress, so I'll just look like a sexy homeless girl who puts on the heir that she's too proud too strip but really is just ashamed of her stretch marks.
And I'll smell like one too.
Your mom.
Shut up.

Let's talk about this Cathy Sorbo thing I mentioned in my last blog.
I'm still "doing time" at the shows.
However, Kermit Holiday is also "doing time" at the shows.
And he's more of a professional.
So he's doing "more time" than I am.
Which is fine.
I'm doing 15 mintues a show.
After the Emcee.
I don't know who is going to Emcee.
Perhaps Boxcar?
I don't really know what happened to him in all of this.
But I like surprises.
When they involve cake.

Evie: I miss you too. You should come to one of the shows. Sarah will be at one as well. You should call each other and "hook that shit up" or something, I don't know.

Doug: That works out well because half of me loves 3 quarters of you and since you're one third of the man you used to be, I think the math works out just fine.

Killorn: Sleevless.

Hakuna my Ta-Ta's

Collin Reade (not Moulton) is very talented.
Not to mention cute as a button.
This button in particular.
I opened for him at the Clearwater Casino on Wednesday.
Saturday I opened for him at the Comedy Underground in Tacoma.
Many thanks to Blaine.
And by "opened for him" I mean comedically you pervs.

The guitar is back.
I welcome its presence.
No song parodies, I promise.

March 24th-26th I am C0-featuring the Underground with Boxcar.
Opening for Cathy Sorbo.
At least as far as I know.
The Comedy Underground Event Calendar says otherwise.
However, I have an email from Jon Fox.
I just don't know what to believe any more.

Following are some pictures from my sister's wedding:


I think I should blank out my right half more often in pictures. My left side is HOTT!


The Bride and Groom



My sister on her wedding day.


Solid proof that my dad is in the mafia.


Me, my nephew and someone's ear.


Me. Doing the Robot.

In love with love, and Killorn

Hi Killorn,

Listen... I want to apologize to you (and everyone) about my recent "absence" from your lives. I realize this can be a painful and sometimes agonizing experience. I wouldn't know first hand, but sometimes I am able to step outside my world and acknowledge what it must be like without me. Although, when I do get the occasion to step outside myself all I can do is add up the extra pounds and dress sizes since the last time I was outside myself and nothing ever gets done because I'm too busy worrying about finding a good tailor.

REGARDLESS! I don't have an internet connection at my home any longer and I am unemployed. Meaning... I spend 70% of each day in bed, 20% in front of the TV and 10% transporting myself to and from the kitchen, living room, bathroom and Chevron station to buy ice cream and Cheetos. Puffs.

HOWEVER! I DO check my email occasionally and I have not been ignoring you QT! Somewhere, months, perhaps several months ago... I changed my email address. I thought that I alerted everyone of the change but I guess I missed the most important person of all... Jesus. And the second most important person - my dear Killorn.

At this point I am at a loss. I ask for your forgiveness. For your patience. For pancakes. I am lost under my covers and fear the outside world. I don't think I have legs. Oh, nevermind. I do. Anyhow, I miss you. I miss you all. I'm coming back - fatter and with longer hair but without a cleft lip!

!MUY IMPORANTE!

IN ORDER TO AVOID ANY FURTHER CONFUSION

please send any and all email you wish to get to Meghan Hounshell to the following address:

suicidepie@hotmail.com

This blog's for you (Blaine)

My ears exploded. Both of them. I'm not blogging about it to get your sympathy, that's just a lucky side effect. I got in trouble with Blaine again because I haven't been blogging regularly. So, I'm blogging now about what's going on in my life and what's going on is my ears exploded.

I had a cold, a fever, some phlegm. I thought I was getting better. Then maybe I "over-did-it." 4am Wednesday morning I woke up with excruciating pain in my right ear. I cried. I called my mom. She said to put heat on it and call the doctor first thing.

So I stayed up until 9 heating my ear, crying and watching infomercials to take my mind off the pain. And if anyone wants to get me anything for Christmas, the Ronco Rotisseree is on the top of my list.

At 9 I called the Doctor and they got me in at 1:15. I went to Bastyr Center for Natropathic Health. I have no insurance. I recommend Bastyr highly if you are in a similar situation and a hippie. Anyhow, it's also a teaching clinic so they have two students look at your ear, then a regular doctor comes in a looks at it too - they then go outside and discuss treatment.

I got a prescription for anti-biotics and was told to call if the situation got worse.

Thurday morning the situation did get worse. I woke up with the same pain in my LEFT ear now. DAMNIT!!! So I went back and this time the doctor asked if some other students could come in and look at my ear because it was not often that they got to see such a shitty shitty ear. I agreed. Two more students came in. The first one looked into my right ear, rubbed my back slightly and said, "poor thing."

They gave me some immune building vitamins, a magical elixer and some ear drops for use only in my left ear, because that ear drum hadn't burst yet. However, by the time I got home, my other ear drum DID burst and the drops became unusable.

So here I am, sitting at my mom's house watching the Recess Christmas Special and feeling like a child. With the exception of the excruciating pain in both of my ears and the impared hearing, it's not all bad having my mommy take care of me for a couple of days.

Call me a baby all you want, but if both your ear drums ever burst you have my deepest sympathies.

Peter Johnson have you shunned me?

I feel a little akward about blogging this, but I feel it is the only way to gain the attention of one "Peter Johnson." I've tried, for many months, to be content with the idea that PJ does not comment on nor perhaps even READ my blog. You, out there in blogland, you cannot imagine how this makes me feel. You and yours living every day of life knowing that PJ reads your blog, thinks about it, and develops a witty-sarcastic-factbased comment that he lovingly posts to your blog. So you receive an email. An anonymous poster has commented. Oh how excited you must be - to scroll to the bottom of words too big for you [me] to recognize and see, there, in all its lonesome...

PJ

Like his initials, I too can be found at the bottom of a paragraph of [jibberish] I... simply alone... waiting for the comments I will never recieve. Here I am Peter. I am right here. I am lonesome.

MH

Oops, I TOTALLY forgot that I love comedy.

As many of you know, I haven't been around in the "comedy scene" much lately. It's not you, it's me. I've just been wandering around lately thinking to myself, "I used to enjoy something... now... what WAS it?!"

Well this week has been a pleasant reminder. Thanks to Jen Kober for intruding upon my apartment and crashing at my place with her girlfriend Susan, her guitar player Justin, and her long-ass showers that I call Thelonious Monk (for no particular reason). Jen called Tuesday and I said to myself, "dude... this seems totally familiar... crap... where do I know her from!?" And then she reminded me that oh yeah, I'm a comic, and the last time I did this "comedy" was in San Francisco four years ago. So I agreed to let them into my home.

THUS I kept promising to show up at the competition shows. They said, "come to Kent" I said, "okay! Oh wait, I can't... I... I have to nap or something." They said, "come to Moses Lake" I said, "Okay! Oh wait... I can't... I... I don't drink anymore." They said, "No one believes you're going to show up on Monday" I said, "I'll show them!"

And I did... and um... I have to say...

I HAVE MISSED YOU SO MUCH COMEDY!!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!! I'M SORRY I'VE NEGLECTED YOU! I'M SORRY I LEFT WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE! PLEASE! TAKE ME BACK BABY! I LOVE YOU! I'VE CHANGED BABY! I'VE CHANGED! I AM YOURS! TAKE ME BACK BABY! TAKE ME BACK!!!