At some point in the not so distant past Monique decided she was going to try her hand at a vlog. She carried around her trusty video camera and Canon with her all weekend and filmed everything that moved, in addition to snapshots of wind, people, places, things, and nouns in general.

While still very much an apprentice in the realm of video editing and speaking directly into the camera, this is her first attempt and she’s tired but somewhat proud of it.

thecoachellavalleyartscene.com

Let’s be honest, Monique doesn’t know quite how to organize things into neat piles of ten. What this means is she doesn’t know how to organize the things she has to do into something resembling a to-do list. Also, she just spent 2.5 hours taking a practice GMAT test and she failed miserably and quit before the third hour could set in. What does this mean for you? It means she’s going to find solace in comedy, like she always does, on Twitter. Twitter is like being blindfolded in a virtual hot tub with a bunch of cool people you don’t know. You’re not sure what they look like, but they’re always just sort of chewing the fat and sharing cool stuff with you.

So tonight Monique is dedicating this blog post to her all-time favorite tweets in a bucolic attempt to forget her past failures and join the circus. She follows comedians, friends, bloggers, comedians, writers, social media hotheads, comedians, web designers, musicians and Peter Shankman. She tried narrowing it down to less than 20 tweets but she has trouble letting go. If any of these tweets resonate with you, don’t wait. Follow them and join the virtual hot tub today.

Disclaimer: Monique understands she is probably the only one that finds 100% of these tweets funny/amazing/tasty as cherry cough syrup.

Drew Koshgarian

1. Drew Koshgarian: @MostlyPregnant This blonde cricket thinks it can walk over to me.

2. Joe Veix: @joeveix Your love is like a roller coaster, there’s a long line and everyone is throwing up.

3.  Laura Aime: @angelmeat Last night I dreamt that I was trying to find a cute dress to wear for the end of the world.

4. Robin McCauley: @RobinMcCauley Ask your doctor if dying is right for you.

5. Sean: @SeanBlazed Too many people should be in awesome warrior tribes and aren’t.

6. Kelly Oxford: @kellyoxfordWant to know the worst thing about yourself? Hang out with a kid for an hour, then ask them.

Braden Graeber

7. Braden Graeber @hipstermermaid I wish awkward accidental eye contact burnt more calories.

8. Jacqueline Carbajal: @jackiecarbajal Thank you channel 4 news for showing film footage of old people being blown away by the wind

9. Alec Sulkin: @thesulk Girl on Bachelor: “I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be or anyone else I’d rather be with.” How about NYC and Clooney.

10. Peter Shankman: @petershankman Don’t compare yourself to others. Compare yourself to you, yesterday.

11. Dane Cook: @danecook Asked a girl why she didn’t use her blinker while driving. She said blinkers are to “remind me to turn” & “I didn’t forget.”

12. Andy Richter: @Andy_Richter I’m a pretty tolerant guy, but if you try to give me one of those tissues with lotion in them I’ll kill your family.

Dane Cook

13. Brian Clark: @copyblogger The less seriously I take myself, the more I achieve.

14. MJ: @sucittaM I think I wasted my 15 minutes of fame trying to save money on car insurance.

15. Disneywords: @disneywords If I really lost him, the best friend I’ve ever known, how sad I’m gonna feel, looking through the woods alone. –Pooh

16. Andy Martindale: @AndyMartindale Adolf Hitler trending? Has he died?

17. TextsFromLastNight: @TFLN I legit just said “vaginal access denied” then told him his password hint was “tequila shots.”

18. Amber Tozer: @AmberTozer If you’re trying to eat a cantaloupe but you don’t have one, get your shit together.

19. Fran Gillespie: @FranGillespie Kony just got cast in the new Eddie Murphy movie to guarantee no one will find him.

20. Tim Siedell: @badbanana I honestly thought I’d have more Cub Scout badges by now.

It’s gotten to the point where Monique now experiences bit of anxiety over posting a blog because she fears she will have nothing to say. Little does she know, that tomorrow her reticence will no longer be a handicap.

How little does she know this? You could measure it with your finger. She wants you to believe she can predict the future, that her oven smokes when she turns it on for no apparent reason other than to look cool, no matter how long she’s been thawing a slab of salmon. So she starves and casually sips decaf green tea and her lips boil down to one notable fact: it’s hot, and that’s life. Life is hot and full of unfactorable polynomials. The functions are undefined.

This is what happens when you sit age-old math formulas at the same table as an English major and serve them tea–the problems aren’t solved but stuffed into a closet full of sentences with the door shut tight so everything fits. Strike a prose! And on she sits, like a 90 degree angle in the driver’s seat, mumbling about sitting upright for God’s sake man or you won’t go anywhere in this world.

And when she’s done with slopes for the night the only thing she hopes is that this all makes sense in formula Dream: bed + head = oh, now I get it. Then the light bulb over her head is actually morning, and zero is the only thing that makes sense.

Flailing on the edge of the ‘Shit Girls Say‘ bandwagon, holding on for dear life, Monique can’t seem to focus on anything but this Saturday, when she and 3 others will venture around Los Angeles, video camera and lip gloss in tow, in hopes of portraying an accurate picture of ‘Shit Single Girls Say in L.A.’.

She pauses here to put on her headphones so she can concentrate. Feeling but looking nothing like this little cousin guy. –>

This Saturday she will be co-starring in her first scripted YouTube video. Here’s what’s going through her head: ‘sure I can act in my room in front of my mirror but in front of a camera?’ and ‘can we really finish the entire thing in a day?’ and ‘I wonder if it will go viral’ and ‘is this trend even viral-able anymore?’

Her gut tells her it doesn’t matter. She’s only in it to have fun and make people laugh. A more serious side says, “But yeah you’re dedicating an entire Saturday to this. A Saturday you could spend studying for the GMAT and possibly fitting in a 4-mile run. Something good better come out of this shit.”

She ignores both gut and serious side in favor of a large sip of water and a long back crack. Also, she opened up her novel last night. She read it in its entirety. 12 pages. Twelve whole ones. She wrote a small paragraph, tweeted it, and got so distracted she made herself sleepy.

Does that number of lines even make the paragraph minimum? By the time she’d removed her contacts and the rubble from between her teeth she could barely get through more than a page of the book she was supposed to review weeks ago before drifting off to a rather shortish-long sleep that should have been dreamless but was not.

A note on dreams before she showers and pretends to read again before she sleeps: they’re real. Here’s why.

When Monique first picked up the idea to write this novel and popped it into her mouth like a mint from a welcome dish, she’d had a dream about her dog. This was either early to mid 2011. She dreamed her dog had choked on a green tennis ball, dying before her eyes, choking and spasmodic. Without a clue as to how to rescue the dog, she pushed on the bulging tennis ball lodged in the dog’s throat, and the dog was alright. The moment of the choke however, was a long and grueling one, and those brief air-clogged dog seconds were like hours in her dream-fog.

Just a mere week and a half ago, Monique’s dog had a seizure right before her very eyes, violently shaking and convulsing in much the way the dog choked in the dream. It was the first time one of her dreams attempted to predict anything but her true life insanity, which she was already vaguely aware of. Why did she remember this petrifying dream? Because she opened her novel. That very dream is described on the very first bloody page of it. It gave her goosebumps. Maybe that was why she couldn’t get past a paragraph the night before.

If her current dreams are any indicator of the future, she should probably tell you that last night she dreamed Oprah passed away in a red dress. Everyone lowered her body in a body of water slowly, some strange burial service she’d requested before her death. You can imagine the world’s shock when she rose from the water seconds after she was submerged, alive.

We all felt pretty bad about it.