Monica Nevi


Tag: Funny

Ching Chang Chong: AAA Membership

I have AAA Plus Membership. I think it is a necessity for people like myself, who do a lot of their traveling via car. I have used it quite a few times, for various easy fixes, mostly flat tires and haven’t thought too much about it until last week.

The AAA Plus Membership and Last Week

I’m not sure what exactly it was but last week was horribly unlucky for me. I tried to focus on the positives and keep moving but it just seemed every step I took forward there was an unlucky monster chasing me backwards. It started with the car.

Jean (the car) and I were heading back from Phoenix Saturday when, only about an hour and a half away from home, she just gave out. She broke down with what felt like running out of gas but sounded like some tube fell off. I get to the side of the freeway in San Bernardino and call up AAA. I have my AAA Plus Membership card with me, so I’m feeling okay. Not happy, but okay.

Infinite patience has been my mantra this year, so what better way to exercise that than in a situation like this? AAA seemed very helpful over the phone, I describe where I am on the freeway, tell him the next exit and say I’m on the northbound side of the roadway. He sounded confident, I felt confident, I didn’t have anywhere to be that night. Infinitely patient.

He said 40 minutes. An hour later, I’m still doing good even though I have been visited by one hopeful competing tow truck and a police officer just making sure I was alright. I receive a call from the driver and he says he is on the southbound side and cannot seem to find me. It takes him awhile to get all the way around to me on the northbound side but then we figure it out and that’s when it happens, I meet Arturo. In such a shitty situation, when I’m tired and trying so hard to maintain this patience, I have yet to realize that this will be the greatest thing to ever happen to me.

The Rest of the Week and My AAA Plus Membership

I equate this story to the caliber of The Sound and the Fury so we are skipping around in time, like Faulkner. After the events of Saturday, the best bad luck I have ever had and my hope and effort in not letting this get me down or spiral, I was visited by many more ghosts of bad luck present. I learned of three deaths of people I knew in one day, two friends were in the hospital after being struck by cars, two paychecks were less than I was told they would be and I had three minor miscommunications that led to scheduling issues. Not to mention the general life turmoil we deal with everyday, that has been a tad overwhelming for me lately.

As of this moment, I am still chalking it up to a very unlucky week. Although, I won’t say I let it get me down and I do think there were some great things that happened during that time as well. Just oddly unlucky for the overall week. This is all without the car because it ends up in the shop, getting her fuel pump fixed. However, the most important part and best thing that has ever happened to me, could have only happened had that bad luck been started by the break down of Jean and thus the necessity to use my AAA Plus Membership.

The Tow Truck and My AAA Plus Membership

I climb into the tow truck so Arturo can take me to the nearby auto shop that is AAA approved and had been ‘informed of the priority so you won’t have to wait in line.’ Arturo and I head over to this shop to get it all taken care of.

On the way Arturo mentions that with the AAA Plus Membership I can be towed up to 100 miles. I inform him I live 82 miles away and it might be easiest if we can just get it fixed up now since it was only 2:30 in the afternoon. He agrees and we head to the AAA approved auto shop about 12 minutes away. As we arrive it is very obvious that this shop is closed and may have never been open. Arturo is a bit confused but offers the long ride home again. I suggest we call the dispatcher and see what’s up.

Turns out the only other shop around closes in 30 minutes as well and what do you know? Arturo gets his wish and we have to get heading on our 2 hour drive back to my apartment where we then have to circle the block a few times to find parking, as you do in LA.

Although, it was an interesting ride filled with Drake that was playing out of a bluetooth speaker he hung from the laundry hook, I kept laughing at the situation before and after I was blessed with the best thing that has ever happened to me.

The Best Thing to Ever Happened to Me and My AAA Plus Membership

Arturo was a nice guy, he didn’t say anything creepy. We talked about music and why I was coming from Phoenix which led to my career and that chat lasted for quite awhile. He texted most of the drive while we talked about traffic and I wasn’t even mad. Infinite patience girl, infinite patience. Plus at this point I hadn’t even learned that the rest of this week would be showered with bad luck flavored sprinkles.

I always want to take away something positive and while the situation did make me laugh, it was probably more of a ‘I can’t believe this is happening, are you fucking kidding me’ type of laugh. It became extremely easy to take away a positive since the best thing that has ever happened to me happened during this unfortunate injury to Jean.

While in the tow truck, after we had gotten gas and some ‘munchies’ as Arturo put it, we were waiting at a stoplight. It was either the Universe or a god speaking to me, saying ‘hey, it’s going to be okay, maybe.’ As we sat at the light I look to my right and a homeless man walks up to the side of the truck and starts motioning for a drink. Unable to discern whether the man wanted a drink of water or wanted money for booze Arturo and I decided we would ignore him. As the man walked away we noticed he had on a denim jacket, with bellbottom jeans and long brown hair. He walked back to us again and did the same thing. I look at Arturo and we both shrug. Then, like a ray of light that restored my faith in the world, Arturo turns to me and with the innocence of a baby lamb he says “Ha! I don’t know what he wants but he looks like those funny guys from the 80s, you know Ching Chang Chong.”

All of a sudden a choir of joyful music erupted in my head! Holy shit! He totally thinks Cheech and Chong are called Ching Chang Chong. Sweet Universe, Jesus, Allah and Flying Spaghetti Monster thank you so much for this gift. I would gladly take another week of bad luck or maybe this week is just the start to a year of bad luck, I’m not sure, but it is worth it. To be given the sweet gift of having the words Ching Chang Chong fall on my ears in that exact moment, saved me. Every pinch of bad luck over the last week has been overcome by the sweet memory of Ching Chang Chong. Every time my stress level creeped closer to the edge, I became flooded with infinite patience because of Ching Chang Chong.

The world works in mysterious ways and I am eternally grateful for this gift.


Singles Awareness Day? We’re Aware…

All the single people, all the single people… stop worrying about us.

Dear Couples,

Don’t worry about your single friends on Valentine’s Day. There are a few things that could be going on and none of them will be fixed by you telling them they’ll be ok, be happy one day or that they can be the third on your date. They know you are interested in the single lifestyle and how they are doing, they know. Is being single better than being in a relationship? No. Is it better than being in YOUR relationship? Quite possibly. Yes, it gets lonely, please stop asking. Here are some possible reasons this person doesn’t have a Valentine:

  1. They don’t want one: I know this is hard to believe but some people don’t want a Valentine. Some people are happy being single, maybe they want to be on their own for once, order food and be lazy without another person judging them. Buy the candy they like instead of hoping someone else will remember and not judge them. Why let a date ruin your ability to wear sweatpants. Some people enjoy their alone time and I know I get hungry whether another person is there or not.
  2. They don’t believe in it: I know plenty of couples that don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day because they don’t play into the idea you should be told when to treat your partner special, you can do that whenever you want. Or they don’t celebrate because they hate each other and they don’t want to break that streak. So it’s not so crazy that a single person wouldn’t feel pressure to partake in a ‘holiday’ that is based around buying stuff you don’t need.
  3. They are picky: This is a hard one for a lot of coupled people to understand but some single people have high standards. Maybe your friend is patiently waiting for the person that makes them want to celebrate Valentine’s Day to come into their life and they are well aware that person is not your boyfriend’s friend from work.

There could be plenty of other reasons that your friend you have deemed lonely does not want to participate in Valentine’s Day. Whatever their reason, I can guarantee you are not making it better by ‘trying to help.’

Dear Singles,

Don’t worry about your coupled friends. This is what I have recently come to understand about being single around couples. As the genius I am, last week I invited 6 couples to my own birthday party where I was alone, so I believe I am a seasoned extra wheel. This is what I have figured out, other people’s relationships have nothing to do with us!



Just because you see someone else is in a relationship doesn’t mean you can’t have one too. A lot of times that makes us go “aw, I wish I was good enough for something like that.” Or whatever. When you could be thinking “oh thank goodness that exists.” I have been on this new ‘be happy for happy couples’ thing and I really like it. For a long time I looked at my parents and thought ‘these happy bitches, always having fun together, married for a long time, making my standards so high!’ But what I should have been thinking was ‘oh thank god, someone as weird as me can have that.’

It’s actually kind of fun being happy for other healthy couples. In reality, your own loneliness doesn’t get better if they don’t work out. That just affirms something in your head that tells you it’s not possible. So today I have been spending my time liking all their cute photos and sappy posts because I do actually want that to exist. You do too, even if it’s not for yourself.

Don’t let your coupled friends make you feel any pressure in being single anyway, there is nothing wrong with it. There is nothing wrong with taking your time and being right. There is something so right with infinite patience and when you find that (it’s not easy) then something good will happen. Until then, have a Happy Secretly Eating a Fuck-Ton of Carbs Day!



I have spent 27 years consciously walking this planet, hunting and gathering information and experiences that might help me do a better job. Nothing seems to resonate with me more than the experiences I have when I throw up. Life lessons and profound moments have come to me while vomiting. I vividly remember why I shouldn’t eat chocolate cake or tequila (especially together).

Tuesday, in the middle of the night, I found myself leaned over with my hands on my knees in a park I used to play in as a child, vomiting onto the ground behind the bathroom building. Would it be cooler to tell you that I had been partying with some wild strangers on a weeknight and got a little too crazy? Probably. You know what isn’t cool? Lying.

What Happened

I was alone and sober on a Tuesday night after I did two pretty mediocre shows, watched karaoke, started to cry in a bar and decided I should go home. Not cool, but honest. Why was I throwing up then? I had one drink but in the last two weeks I have had a very difficult time eating pretty much anything. Feeling confident and distracted hanging out with Cameron we went to Dick’s burgers and I had two regular cheeseburgers. I could get them down on my way to a bar where a friend was working to watch karaoke instead of going home and being alone. All of this seemed like a good plan.

In the middle of a song I get this rush of all the anxiety and stress I had been dealing with, maybe triggered by a man with a beautiful voice singing Sara Bareilles, maybe not. I start to get choked up in this public place and quickly head to the bathroom to pull myself together. I cry for a little bit in the bathroom stall but am able to shove it back down. As I’m standing there, getting it together, I get this horrible knotted feeling in my stomach, like there is a big brick that needs to come out. Not in the ‘GET OUT OF THE WAY I’M GOING TO BLOW’ type of sense but in the ‘this thing is coming out if I have to do it myself’ kind of way. Maybe going home isn’t such a bad idea. I pack my things up and start walking up the hill to my car.

On the way back to the car I am actively looking for a place to secretly release this beast in my stomach. Trash cans are too public, there are other people using the area behind most buildings for various things, the park near by has a fountain but I peed in that once during college so I already felt like I had marked my territory. I’m just going to start driving back to my parents’ house and find something on the way. Obviously, I wasn’t super keen on the idea of coming home to my parents in the middle of the night and drawing all the attention with my vomiting. Knowing the Renton area as well as I do, I knew this particular park wasn’t too far off the freeway, was very dark and in the middle of some houses, not on a main road. Target acquired.

As I pull up to the park, I leave the car in front of the locked gate to the parking lot. I think I turn off the lights but I do not. I get out step over the gate and walk to this covered corner on the back side of the bathroom building that I know is there because we used to play kick-the-can at this park at night all the time. There I am, bent over like a linebacker, with my boots spread far enough apart to stay out of the splash zone and my hood is rigged up to play the part of someone holding my hair back. Ejection has commenced.

After cheeseburger #1 has made its way to the ground, I thought to myself “of course this is happening.” I didn’t realize what I meant at the time. While facing my insides on the ground of a park my uncle used to take me and my cousin to, I thought I had hit that wall of stress and anxiety, frustration and sadness where you can’t do anything but laugh and you seem to have accepted that you aren’t good enough and bad things just happen to you. As cheeseburger #2 was exiting the same place I use to try and convince people I am good enough I just had a flurry of all the work I had been trying to do for things that could potentially fall flat on their face. But not me, I couldn’t fall flat on my face because I would land in my own vomit.

This hiding spot is still solid and even though I left the headlights on, no one finds me.

How Does This End

At this point, I feel like everything has gotten out but I stay in the position, staring at the blended insides of my body, feeling empty in most ways possible. Looking down, hoping the Universe has spelled something out for me here. I find nothing and walk away, wiping my finger on a fence post I used to challenge my friends to jump over, and get back in the car. I make it home, very confused and disoriented. I wash my hands, brush my teeth and go to bed. I stare at the ceiling wondering if because I am what I am, am I destined to be tortured for my whole life or if I should just not eat Dick’s anymore.

I wake up at 5 am and get sick again, almost passing out and then again at 11 am. Maybe I am just sick and I have read too far into this… just adding more questions of inadequacy over how I am approaching all of this mentally. I’m not sure if it was when I was in the park or on the bathroom floor in a modified yoga pose hoping not to pass out but I finally had the thought ‘I think I should make some changes to the way I am thinking about things.’ I would say there was clarity in those moments but I was teetering between knowing I wasn’t having any positivity with myself at all and feeling resentment toward those who have a privileged enough life to have never cried onto their own vomit in the middle of the night. Wracking my brain for all the things I had used before to value myself during tough times of stress while also wondering if I just Will Byers style flushed a demogorgon into the world.

Why Does This Matter

“Monica, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Stress is poison and I have been literally poisoning myself with my thoughts on and off for years. You probably have too. I fight all the time to stay positive but when you get sucked down the other way you don’t realize it. So when I thought to myself “of course this is happening to me” it wasn’t because I deserve to be in pain, it was because I thought myself into that situation. Of course I’m vomiting up all the poison I have been putting my body through in this park where I once coached a summer camp. Of course this is happening because my attempts to ‘take care of myself’ were only going through the motions so I didn’t look as sad to other people. I let my mind bring me all the way down when I know exactly what I am supposed to be doing and I am confidently positive about all the things I am doing. I totally forgot! I have always had a hard time letting myself feel good about anything, even though I know how to do that.

After the burger and/or pain purge I felt a little bit renewed. Every once in awhile you have to remind yourself that you are good, great and wonderful. People know that about you and your hard work in life and on yourself is worth it. Also, trust yourself. I think that is the biggest source of anguish for me, I let these negative feelings pull me away from what I know is true and good and what I believe in. All of which have been tested time and time again and I am always right.

I read an entire book the next day. I have never done that. It was only 70 pages but clearly some changes have been made. I have spent years knowing what I should be doing for myself and how I should be utilizing those tool but just not doing it. It’s only been two days but maybe sometimes it just takes throwing up in a park in the middle of the night to shake it out of you. Or maybe… just maybe… you shouldn’t eat cheeseburgers from a 1,000 year old stand on a 2 day empty stomach. Give it whatever meaning you want.

I also updated my calendar. 🙂

My Project And Why It’s Important

This Saturday, November 18th will be the premiere of my short documentary series 80 For 80. This is a really important event for me and I feel that some people may be wondering why the project is important and relevant to me and also important and relevant in the current state of comedy and the country.

For Me

The project is a short video series of interviews with residents of King County over the age of 80. It is in the theme of a sports documentary and I had a wonderful time sitting down with each of the subjects. I am excited for you to see some of it. However, it should be known that this project was definitely for me. I have a couple obsessions that may border on unhealthy. In the past couple of years I have become pretty overwhelmed by thoughts of mortality in general and how to get the most out of your time here. I also tend to graze around the relationship between pain and comedy fairly consistently. Therefore the group of people who I felt like were honest enough and wise enough to tell us the truth about some of my questions and also be so painfully honest that it was funny was this group.

People in their 60s and sometimes 70s are still able and willing to sugarcoat things for us. Once you hit 80 there are zero fucks to be found. I had so many questions for people about their lives AFTER they had passed away. The project stemmed as a way to get this information before hand, for myself.

The other reason this project is really important to me is because I did it. I had the idea and told Ruben (the editor) about it and he encouraged me to apply for a grant to get it made. I did and we did. I learned so much about filming, had such amazing people helping me and even if it sucks, I can feel good about what we did. I am proud of that, although this has all been and will continue to be quite stressful.

For All Of Us

80 For 80 is important for all of us because buried within these hilarious comments and ridiculous stories is some real insight into what we should focus on and how we should treat each other and ourselves. Which are probably the two hardest things to master in the world. My philosophy with comedy and my podcast has always revolved around giving yourself a break to laugh and forget what stresses or pains you are having. That will happen too.

Even though there is some new sort of scandal most days it seems, a lot of the recent ones have been revolving around women in show business and how they are treated. I don’t really feel the need to tell a me too story because I think we can all assume some terrible things have happened. In light of all of these scandals however, I do feel very proud to have made a project like this on my own. At some point it becomes necessary for not only women in show business but anyone who is marginalized to just start trying to do things on their own. You can always say yes to yourself and if it’s something you believe in, you should do it. It may not be as easy or lucrative as having some big something buy it from you but it will feel better and you don’t have to watch anyone jerk off in a plant or whatever. The best way you can support anyone in art is to support their work. Go see people you like do stand up, support local artists, support the independent projects.

This is the part where I beg, I suppose. Please come support this project, it is something so different for me. I want it to be something even better and would love to do it again in other cities. Get your tickets now at and come see what no one else will get to see. Support me. If I’m being honest, I really need it. We are not 100% sure where the entire series will be released when it’s done but we will let you know when we know. But you can easily guarantee your opportunity to see what we have done by getting your tickets now. See an episode, behind the scenes footage and a Q and A session with myself, Ruben and other crew members.

Amazon Deleted My Positive Review

I have a little internal dispute with the fact people most often leave reviews and comments when they are upset about something and rarely take the time to say anything positive. I have been trying to positively review some of the things I think other people would like to use, especially if I really enjoy the company or creator.

A few months ago (I have been dealing with the emotional repercussions of this experience, so it has taken me a bit to write this) I was having some issues going the bathroom. My grandmother suggested I use a laxative, so I went to the Wal-mart and picked up the Equate Gentle Women’s Laxative and this review is the story of what happened and how surprisingly well it worked. Below is a screenshot of the top of their e-mail denying my support of the company and below that is the entire review.

This is the full thing so you can understand why I am disappointed Amazon didn’t accept this glowing review:

“If you are stressing about using a laxative choose this one as it will definitely eject any fear or concern right out of your asshole. This was a last resort for me personally as I had some ongoing issues with constipation that had become painful. I chose these specifically because I am a woman and like most things gentle. As I had learned in the past based on massages and watching children pet dogs, we all have a different definition of gentle.

The reason this product gets a 5 is because it did what it was supposed to do. The label said to expect some action 6-12 hours after it is taken. The next morning, about 10 hours after I took one of the 5mg pills, I had a movement that could be considered gentle only in how soft it was. Although, it was a little startling, I finally felt a little relief. I didn’t think everything was cleared out but I was very pleased something was happening. About 30 minutes later, I felt a little bit of a rush to the restroom to then expel what I can only describe as ass vomit. It was a lot but I did feel like I got all the stuff that was stuck in there out.

About an hour later I was on the phone on my bed and as I got off the phone I rolled onto my stomach. I promptly shit my pants while lying on my stomach in sweatpants, sans underwear. The math on how that happened is still a little bit shaky in my head but if you imagine stepping on a Capri Sun, shot out like a straw. After I audibly said “oh, that’s not good” I shuffled to the bathroom and had my first official shit to shower. I wore the sweatpants into the shower.

One more bout and I felt great, like everything had finally come out and the shame of shitting my pants without any underwear on was starting to hurt a little less. I couldn’t help but notice my abs killin it and think that the gentle may how been referring to the severity of the bulimia you might have if choosing to use these. Cost effective and ass effective. If you want to feel a little fear, need something to make you feel alive and also clean you out. This is the product. ”

I don’t want to give you the impression I am fighting with Amazon on Prime Day because I am not. I am fighting the war on positive reviews everyday. In fact I like Amazon and you should use this banner to check out those Amazon deals, if that’s what you’re into. Maybe all the scientific terms were too much for their review guidelines but I genuinely encourage you to write positive reviews for any products, podcasts or services you use and are happy with. They have a great impact on the success of the company so you can continue to have their services flow right through you.

Any direct questions about the quality of the laxatives are welcomed in the comments. I have 29 of the 30 pills left if anyone wants to try.

After I Thought I Was Dying, I Immediately Wanted To See Naked People?

A title meant to draw you into a very confusing experience that I haven’t yet sorted out completely. It is possible other people that have experienced this can relate but I have a hunch it might not be the afterthoughts we agree on.

The Incident

A few weeks ago we were mid-recording of the HugLife Podcast, talking about happiness or toots or cute animals and hope. About 15 minutes in my legs started to go numb. Thinking it was just the way I was sitting I stood up and started trying to shake them out, which made Mike (my co-host) very uncomfortable. I did some stand up podcast for awhile and thinking they had gotten better I sat back down. Probably 10 minutes later in episode 117 (listen here) you will here me go “um, I think we need to take a break for a second.” Although the break really does take 1 second in the episode don’t be confused, it was actually 5 hours. Some real Hollywood trickery.

The reason I decided to take a break was because I had started feeling very faint and dizzy and Mike immediately noticed that my pupils were fully dilated. The only other time I had felt like this was when I was on some sort of drug. Which is pretty easy to talk yourself out of because you know it is an effect of whatever drug you have taken. This however came at a time where I had eaten earlier in the day, thought I was hydrated, hadn’t taken anything or drank any alcohol for days before that. Which scared me more than anything.

Since, I couldn’t pinpoint the cause, I just tried anything that might make me feel better. I laid down and put an ice-pack on my head and tried to relax. Nothing was making it better which is when I went to the bathroom and started throwing up. Even though there was no stomach pain I thought maybe I had gotten food poisoning from what I had eaten earlier in the day. The only thing that did was now make me shaky as well. I felt like my whole body was passing out in increments. The top of my head, then my face, then my arms and chest, down to my legs.

I began to not be able to feel my hands or face. This clicked a little bit for me as one other time I had to go the emergency room months after a car accident with an elk because I was having these symptoms. Maybe it was my neck again! Well they weren’t able to help me with that before but this needed to stop.

Cut to me on my hands and knees kind of rocking back and forth like a child that can’t sit still during story-time. That’s when I decided we should call 911. As I scoot myself to the living area, I could only think about my current lack of health insurance and how if it was possible to not actually go to the hospital that would be great, because America.

The Paramedics

Three gentleman, that could be more accurately described as dudes, arrived to the apartment. The kids next door were jacked about it! One fireman started asking me questions while the other ones just sort of looked at our stuff. I explained how I was feeling and they took my heart rate, which was obviously very high just based on my concern for the way I was feeling. He asked what we were doing before this started and when I said podcasting all three of them noticed the microphones and said “you are not still recording are you?” No sir, I was not really interested in having my death on audio.

He took the rest of my vitals which were all fine. So they said it didn’t seem to be an emergency and if I could just lay down and relax that would be good but that I should see a doctor when I could. The least helpful of the fire fighters was across the room looking at our white board that has my other roommate Mitch and I’s ‘to-do’ lists on it. Mitch had happened to write ‘stop jerking off so much’ on his side. The fire fighter chimed in “oh man, I am like really dyslexic and I read Mitch’s as yours and thought, well how much are you doing that?”

Not really wanting to deal with creepy questions at the time, I laughed and then promptly responded “I think I do that an appropriate amount… but… would that make me feel like this?” They laughed and there was a moment where I thought I was going to be okay.

The Afterthoughts

As I laid on the couch and tried to relax and let the Xanax set in, there was only one thought that came to my very frustrated and fatigued mind. That I wanted to go to a strip club.

In the weeks since then, full of doctors visits and new medication for a crippling anxiety disorder – as I did have multiple more episodes of what is seemingly terrible panic attacks, some in my sleep – I have been trying to figure out why this was my first thought. I have some theories but none can really hold all the way up.

The 4 Theories For Why Monica Wanted To Go To The Strip Club

  1. I was feeling so alone, panicked and broken I would gladly pay a lady to pretend to love me? My thoughts had not been that I wanted a naked person to sit on my lap but that I just wanted someone to rub my back or something. Just a solid alternative to having health insurance.
  2. I was feeling so alone, panicked and broken that I wanted to watch people who we view as those things, so I could find a little solace in the fact I am not the only one who is struggling? Maybe I was hoping it would be obvious they were doing worse than I was and I would be distracted by trying to save them with my amazing stripper advice.
  3. I was so deeply in need of some version of strength I wanted to be around strong women and that’s where I knew they were? Both from an emotional stand point and the impressive limber physical strength. Regardless of if you have ever been or not you know that it takes an Olympic level upper body, lower body and core strength to do some of that pole work. I’m damn sure our Olympic ‘deal with bullshit and do whatever it takes to keep pushing’ team would be led by strippers. Apparently, subliminally I wish our country was run by them.
  4. I wanted so badly to think about anything else and I was well aware that naked people are literally the most distracting thing to other humans, in the world. Maybe I would have forgotten about the muscle I pulled in my neck throwing up or the general feel of doom if there were boobs out? We’ll never know.

I am now on some sweet new medication that seems to be helping a bit. Whether it is just that nothing at all leads to me having debilitating panic attacks or that I let my stress level get way too high, the result has been a horrendous 3 weeks. I’m doing fine, I’ll make it. My shows have been great, in fact the only time I feel completely normal is when I am on stage, maybe another connection to the strippers. Thank you to everyone who has come out to shows!

I have heard that before you think you are going to die your life flashes before your eyes. Well I have almost died, or thought I was going to die, upwards of 4 times and I have only ever seen a stripper flash me before my eyes. This is to all the other beat up people that are frustrated with anything that’s going on, we’ll all collectively take a deep breath and remember that it has been worse.

I love you.


P.S. New meditation will be up this week! Subscribe to my YouTube Channel.

Also, get your tickets now for the Night Before the Night Before, the show I am producing at Carco Theatre in Renton, Wa on Dec. 23rd. It will greatly decrease my stress level if you buy them now. (Here)


Well That’s Debatable – The Unbiased Highlights from Debate #1

If you are like me, you do genuinely want what’s best for the future of the United States and the world. When it comes to the 2016 Presidential Election however, you are well aware of how ridiculous this political clown train (bigger than a clown car) has gotten and are looking for some fun highlights. We like sports and we like things simple because we are dumb. Here are the Debate Center Top Plays of the night! Amurica.

Some of you may be concerned because I have a history of laying left and I’m sure both sides are frustrated with the candidate bashing today but fear not. Whoever you are voting for, whoever you hate, whatever insecurities you are burying with anger toward politicians, throw them out the window. Here are the top 5 highlighted takeaways of the first presidential debate, no matter who you are:


1. Cat fight

It has been deemed one of the “fiercest” debates to date and I like fierce. There is so much pent up frustration and angst for both of these presidential candidates. No matter who you support you had to be ready for Mr. Donald Trump to talk the same way he has and interrupt everyone like the Republican Debates. What we did not expect was Hillary to get in there with some personal jabs too! Trump is not afraid to cut you off when he thinks you are saying something incorrect (or just disparaging) but for Hillary to slide in some comments and attacks about the economy being “Trump’d up” or him “living in his own reality” really increased the entertainment value of the whole thing and that’s what we Americans are into. Calm down ladies, it’s only the first round!

2. Wrong!

Any experience can be a learning experience and last night I learned if you don’t agree with something people are saying, you can just yell ‘wrong!’ or ‘no’ over them while they try and finish their statement. At the very least just shake your head hard enough or make faces that let the audience know whatever your opponent is saying, you disagree with. There is a value to this in regular life, if ever in an argument from now on I will just shake my head violently enough that I can’t even hear what bullshit they are telling me (because like you, I am always right) and move on accordingly.

They both did it.

3. First Gentleman

There are some people who really don’t like Bill Clinton, for the various reasons available that might lead one to that opinion. We just recently had some issues with Hillary’s health and questions about her being helped into a car when she looked like she was fainting. Well, ease your mind. If you don’t want Hillary because you don’t want to have Bill around again OR you are a Trump supporter you may be in luck, Bill looks like he is dying. If you haven’t been able to see any of the coverage lately Google will auto-fill “Bill Clinton…” with “has AIDS” so clearly his health is in question.

4. Lack of Sexuality

Luckily, for most Americans there were few jabs taken about looks or relationship histories. Hillary did touch on some of Trump’s treatment of women in the past but only on a broad level, nothing about his family. He only really attacked Bill as a president and not as a family man. No mention of his immigrant wife or multiple divorces and nothing about her husband’s infidelities or women of the past. She even wore a full red pants suit to divert any thoughts of a blue dress. I appreciated that but there is part of me that thinks maybe they are saving it up for another time.

5. Income Tax

No matter how you feel about Trump withholding his tax information, the controversy was on the table last night. Trump’s reasoning has been that he is being audited and cannot release them. We should all appreciate Lester Holt’s pressing of the issue and saying that he is definitely able to give that information during the audit. It seems it is another silly thing we are hung up on that is a simple fix of just sharing that information. However, the best part of this question was when Hillary called him out for not having paid his income taxes he interrupted her to say that he did not pay them because he is smart. Amazing. If you weren’t excited by that, you’re the robot. Smart people don’t have to pay income tax, I’m on board with that Don.


Those were the Top 5 highlights from the first 2016 Presidential Debate. I put a lot of effort into the unbiased part. If you didn’t watch the debates, good on you and now you know the most important parts that you missed. It is about entertainment, Bernie! It’s not about hope anymore so let’s get something out of it.

This debate was brought to you by Cocaine and Water: Cocaine and Water, it’s tremendous!

Also by Pant Suits: Pants Suits, cause you’re a lady.


I love you. We are going to be okay.

The End All to the Bathroom Debate

As we all sit alone in our homes or offices trying to navigate the whirlwind of emotions surrounding the debate about stores (namely Target) allowing customers and employees to use the bathroom that they identify with, I give you these thoughts. This has really stirred up a lot of rage, mostly from conservatives, who are concerned about people using the policy as an excuse to prey on the opposite sex. A concern none of us had until they brought it up. I am one to sit pretty far to the left and so I was impressed with the decision to include people’s identities in their short pee-pee times while shopping. I frequently shop at Target, it allows me to buy passable clothing at a lower price while also getting snacks and gardening supplies in ONE PLACE. I try my hardest to understand both sides of an argument although yelling and holding up bibles are my two least favorite ways to express opinions. There is always a compromise, always an understanding, always a solution. I believe I have found that solution.

I think that most people have a problem with using public restrooms, why would you want to do the most private thing possible around other people? If we can avoid it, we do. It’s gross and also the least sexy part about humans. Most relationships are built on years of hiding bodily functions before you get too tired of it and there is a mass exodus of flagellation that brings with it any fucks one might have given. So I think the solution to all this drama really does lie within ourselves, within our holes. How many times have you waited for someone to dry their hands before you pushed one last time? How much water has been wasted with extra flushes? Bathroom silence is the loudest sound. One of my favorite professors in college went before me in the school restroom during our class break and she let out a bowl toot that changed my relationship with authority forever.

Here is my proposal: all public restrooms should be neutral gender and full door, single stalls. There are a plethora of ways to do this. Swimming pool family style restroom, with a big door and room that can be handi-accessible. More than one would be desired for line control. Another option would be porta-potty lines, although gross anyone can use it and there is a vortex that sucks any shame you would feel out as you enter. There are different variations of these ideas that I think could work but my favorite is actually a reality. In a cafe in San Francisco, which is where most of my dreams live, there is one restroom area with a communal hand washing place and then a hallway of fitting room style stalls with full doors and walls. The small rooms line the hallway down either way from the washing area, keeping in sounds and allowing everyone privacy without regard to identity or anything. A cat you taught to open doors can use one of these if you they so wish.

I know this may have simplified some reasons for anger and stifled some excitement to hate people in a fit of boredom. Fear not! This only allows people privacy to do their business while you simultaneously mind your own. You are free to internalize the hatred you will not be face to face with in the comfort of your own home. Also, you can rest comfortably knowing your emergency shopping poop will not be heard. I think we can all get behind private poops. Nevi for President 2020.

If you are still questioning if this is a valid solution or not:

It's Legit

Follow Your Dreams #2

I have extremely vivid dreams, that are super weird, all the time. This is a short story based on a dream I had so that we can analyze what they mean and how that will help me in a journey for a more successful life. Every dream means something important, I’m sure. I also read an article that connects vivid dreams to mental illness. Names have been changed, except for two that I think are important (one is me).


It was a Friday night in Los Angeles, dark enough to know it was showtime but warm enough to forget a jacket. I was dressed in a leather vest, with a white v-neck underneath and a gold star badge on the vest. Sheriff Nevi had arrived. I walked up to the venue on Santa Monica Boulevard, an awesome venue I had wanted to work at for a long time. I walked up to the venue and it was FULL of people! The inside of the room looked cooler than anything I had ever seen, extremely inconvenient for comedy but super awesome looking. The stage was basically an island in the middle of the room but it had a wall in the middle so there was essentially two sides of stage. If you were performing on one side the other side of the room couldn’t see you. However, there were TV screens on either side. Both sides of the stage were slanted and full of people in the seats and sitting on the floor.

There were three bars inside and one that was outside of the venue on a porch area. I walked up to the outdoor bar and no one was there. So I did what anyone would do just started making my own drink. Using any of the equipment that was unnecessary. There were two different containers full of ice, one was crushed and the other was in these little cute thimble shapes. I put some of the crushed ice into the silver tin thing, added orange juice, champagne and vodka. I shook it up accordingly and strained it into a glass. As I poured it out of the tin the amount that went in the glass was less than you could drown in. Confused and frustrated I began to pour the same ingredients but triple.

As I poured a sufficient drink amount into my glass my best friend Barbara came out of the venue, he hugged me and without asking any questions of why I was behind a bar I did not work at, asked to have one of whatever I was having. I began to pour the orange juice, champagne and vodka into the tin as his face began to show low levels of disgust. “Here” I said “I call it the Rich Stepmom.” Although I felt like the true rich step mom needed some sprinkles of Xanax and cigarette ash, I handed it over and started into the venue to find the show producer.

“Hey, Rich! Place looks packed, do you have an order for the performers, so I know when I am up.”
“This is just what we do, you know that” Rich said “there is no list but there will be.”

Rich didn’t make eye contact with me the whole time he spoke to me and then he walked away into the blue and purple lights of the packed house. I looked up and the show was starting. Having no idea when I was on I went outside to try and find a hat to go with my rural Sheriff’s outfit, hoping to run into the other performers that could tell me more of what was happening. The performers were wearing costumes but no one in the audience was so it couldn’t have been Halloween. I was looking through buckets of costume accessories, trying to find something that would work. Another lady was doing the same thing and found a hat that would be perfect. I looked at her as she put it on. Two weird things happened at that moment, we looked at each other long enough for me to realize she was Last Man on Earth‘s Kristen Schaal and then we realized we were dressed as the same character, only she had a ballet tutu on. She smiled at me condescendingly and introduced herself. She didn’t seem to like me but we were “wearing the same dress.”

I ripped off my badge as I walked away toward the outdoor bar. What was I going to be now? I needed another Stepmom. As I approached the bar I realized Barbara was now behind the bar making everyone drinks. Selling Rich Stepmoms left and right. I walked up to the entry way of the tending area but as I began to pass the break in the bar a conveyor belt took its place and began to rotate breakfast foods around the bar. Mostly pancakes at this point but soon enough hash browns and sausages would follow. Confused and flustered I told Barb I would be back to which he didn’t respond because he had a line and was now also serving breakfast. I went back over to where Last Man on Earth‘s Kristen Schaal was in order to find something else to wear. She was still there and as I approached she reached down into a bucket to pull out a new outfit idea for me. Or so I thought. Next thing I knew something sticky hit me in my face and in my hair. Last Man on Earth‘s Kristen Schaal had thrown a syrupy pancake at me. I wipe as much off as I could and Last Man on Earth‘s Kristen Schaal looked at me and said “I love you” with a big smile. She did like me after all and even more lucky there was a bucket of syrup with some pancaked in it right next to me. I reached in and we started a best friends pancake throwing war. We laughed and giggled and finally she said she knew where more of the costumes were and we should easily be able to turn my outfit into a pirate. I wish this was the end but it is not.


We entered the venue and went into a greenroom area that was full of buckets of costumes and we started to vigorously look for some pirate gear. As I was looking we noticed the performance list had finally been posted. There were two performers, Last Man on Earth‘s Kristen Schaal and then it would be my turn. I went to watch some of the acts on stage to see how the oddly configured room would work for performance. The TVs showing the opposite side of the stage worked well, so if that performer wasn’t on your side you could still see them. The crowd was awesome, the side watching the TVs was just as enthralled as the side with the performer on it. I turned back to look into the buckets and become a pirate. Right as I turned around I heard “your next comedian is blah blah blah she is the greatest blah blah… Monica Nevi” I looked up from the bucket completely shocked, grabbed a Mariners baseball hat I brought with me put it over my syrupy hair and ran to the stage. I got up on one side and realized it was the wrong side, so I around to the other side and I was still in the wrong place. “Monica, where are you, we’re over here” I heard over the speakers. Furious at this point I ran to the back of the venue where there was more seating and an alcove that had the host, another comic and a two corn hole boards set up, ready to play. “What the fuck is going one right now!” I thought to myself.

I finally made it over to where I am “supposed to be” and stand next to what I assumed was my side of the corn hole game. I am ready to swear up a storm and really throw out some low blows during this game. I fucking love corn hole! Giggle all you want. Quick recap, now I am ready to play this game against some nondescript white male beard in front of a ton of people under blue and purple lights where I thought I would be doing comedy 20 minutes from that time. Right as I look at my opponent in the eyes and am ready to yell out whatever obscenity comes to mind my high school health teacher, Ms. Blocker, leans forward to say she finally came to a show and that her husband and their two VERY young children were there with them. Full family leans forward and waves to me as I try to keep the horror inside my head off of my face, I wave back. Immediately I start to reevaluate what I was going to say and then my whole life. There are kids here, I can’t run around with my syrupy hair yelling swear words! Or can I?

I win corn hole, by a lot, grab that wireless microphone from the host and start running around this oddly shaped venue, in my syrupy Mariners hat, high-fiving anyone and yelling inappropriate things into the microphone.

Best set I have ever had. Mic Drop.


Although the meaning of all of this is still lost on me and any ideas you have would be helpful. I think the moral of this dream is always have a wireless mic.

Follow Your Dreams

We’ve all heard that phrase “follow your dreams” and I assume we all have tried to do that exact thing. I believe your mind does some weird stuff up there and it is more powerful over our actions than we even know. Therefore here is the dream I just had (in story form) and I am SURE it means something very important and makes sense but I need help figuring out what (names and locations have been changed for the safety of those involved):


She looked like Ron Swanson’s mother from Parks and Rec, Tammy. She was a very nice lady though and she invited me in the house where I was supposed to be helping her do some work. Her name was Sharon and her house smelled like cats and cigarettes but it was oddly reminiscent of a combination of grandmothers I had met over the years. Except she was only 50 years old. As I am helping her with some house work she keeps stopping and staring at me. I was reaching up in the cupboard to put something away and Sharon slowly peered around the corner and looked at me intently.

“Hey” I said.
“Hi” she said.
“Is there anything else you need help with?” I said.
“I don’t think so, but I got you a gift” Sharon replied.

She brings out a Nike box of brand new basketball shoes. They were awesome, I was super excited! I thanked her and she told me to wait one more second. Sharon walked back to her room and then emerged holding another bag. This one was filled with a pair of black and teal yoga pants and a tank top along with another box of running shoes. I was taken aback by this as I didn’t really understand why she was giving me so many gifts. Was there more to this story? Was she making up for not having children? Did one f her daughters die? Was she trying to have sex with me? All relevant answers to the question. I asked her if she was sure she wanted to give these things to me and she said it was the least she could do for having me help her.

Finally, a third time she goes back to the bedroom and brings back full arms of other workout clothes and shoes. Maybe she was telling me I needed to work out? That seems rude but she had been watching me closely all day, so she would know, I thought to myself.

She set the pile of clothing on the couch near the previous gifts. As I looked at this pile I realized it was not new items they were used and looked like they had come out of a laundry basket. Each item I looked at seemed more and more familiar until it hit me that these were all my clothes. Sharon, this seemingly nice middle-aged lonely woman just brought me a pile of my own dirty clothes, as a gift. She smiled with one of the most terrifying grins I had ever seen and then turned to walk back to the bedroom again. I was panicked and couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening so I gathered up as much of the pile as I could, new or old and ran out of the door to my car. I don’t know what happened to Sharon because she didn’t make it out of the house before I could never look back but somehow she had gotten my clothes from my room and I didn’t get it.

There I was, breathing heavily and driving away, trying to put together any part of what just happened. I arrived downtown and thought to myself I couldn’t go home right now because she knows how to get in there. I stopped to grab some coffee and as I was walking back to the car I noticed one of my friends from college getting into a cab.

“Hey! Lizzy! What’s up? How are you?” I yelled.
Lizzy stared at me with dead eyes as she slid to the farthest part of the car she could and said “Not great, I am doing a lot of things I used to do. Being more of an Elizabeth than a Lizzy.” She was speaking almost too softly to hear and very slowly pressing herself as far into the cab as she could manage. I had very little idea what she was talking about, she had confided in my once that she had gone through some issues with an eating disorder and I thought maybe that was what she was talking about.
I told her “I hope you are ok, I will call you later tonight to catch up.” She stared at me blindly as the cab door closed and she took off.

I thought to myself that was weird and something had to be going on today that I just didn’t know about. I figured the best place to go was to my mother’s house. I called my mom, Pan, to make sure they were home. She said she was but she was afraid that she had lice. I assured her that I could check for her when I arrived, I had a lot of experience looking for lice on the children I had worked with over the years. There is a technique.

I got to my mother’s house and she was already sitting in a chair in the middle of the kitchen waiting for me to check her head. She really didn’t greet me when I entered the home, she just stayed in the chair and waited for me to come to her. So I did. I walked over to her as she sat frustrated and nearly defeated.

“Okay, let me check” I said.
“I can feeling them moving, it has to be lice” she sheepishly announced.
As I combed through her hair and looked directly at her scalp, there was nothing to be found. No small black lice moving, nor white eggs on the hair. “I am not seeing anything” I told her as I started in the front of her scalp.
Pan reached up and touched the rear top part of her head and said “It hurts right here.”
“Hurts? That seems weird, I don’t think it is lice” I replied.

I parted her hair in that spot to reveal two medium sized cockroaches embedded in her scalp. They weren’t moving enough to change positions but they were kind of running in place on their sides and their antenna were moving freely. It was appalling and unexpected but I was able to keep calm. I put my hands on her shoulders and said “this is something else and since they’re painful let’s go take you to the doctor, just in case.”

At this point Pan would have followed you with this blank stare into the ocean if you asked her to. I walked her into the hospital and checked her in as she had done for me many times before. I was aware of the role reversal but wasn’t clear enough in the mind to think about it. Something was happening and I only knew we needed to figure it out. The doctors took her back and would not allow me to come with her. Three hours later I was outside of the hospital on the phone with Lizzy, who seemed totally fine and almost oblivious to her behavior earlier in the day. As we were saying goodbye Pan came strolling through the sliding doors of the hospital. As she walked out she had this big smile on her face with her purse at her side looked me in the face and just said “ready to go?”


I will gladly following any interpretation of what that dream is supposed to mean.

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