Tag Archives: birthday

Terrible Things are Happening in the World, So I’m Going to Complain About a Skirt.

I’m back!  I just needed to take a brief hiatus so I could collect my thoughts, reevaluate my life, and do some real soul searching. PFFFFFFFFT   Yeah right, I squandered these last few months watching  Duran Duran videos all by myself.  That is only a slight exaggeration. While I did spend an inordinate amount of time ogling Duran Duran, a lots of things happened these past few months.

Let’s see!  I got a tattoo.  It is a seagull loteria card, and it’s rad, and it didn’t hurt, and I still like to stare at it and rub it lovingly.  My parents do not like it, but they have begrudgingly accepted it.  I mean they have to, as I am a 31 year old woman (Oh yeah!  I forgot!  I had a Soft Rock birthday since my last post.  I am year older now!  Listen to this playlist! Seriously listen to it, it is so good.)



Anyway, I am a 31 year old woman and I can tattoo whatever creatures on my body that I want, AND NO ONE CAN STOP ME.  The only one of my family members that likes my seagull is my oldest sister Lisa.  My other sister Erica laments that it is too large and that when I wear formal gowns it will look declasse.  This is a pretty valid concern though, because I am constantly going to balls and galas, et al. Not a weekend goes by where I am not at the Governor’s Mansion or a high school dance.  My favorite reaction was from my mother, who said, “People always asked me if I ever thought  you’d get a tattoo, and I always said no.  You’ve made me a liar.”  HAAAAAAA! SO DRAMATIC.

Y’all, Truman turned two!  WHAT?!?  We celebrated by doing a whole shit ton of nothing, but he had a great day anyway.   Almost everyday is a great day when you’re two years old.  He is growing and developing!  He is talking more every day and has started Spanish lessons.  His teacher said he is very attentive and makes attempts to say the words.  I am proud of that little bugger!

Just look at that little scamp.

Just look at this little scamp.

We didn’t really do anything for Truman’s birthday because we went on a family vacation a couple days later.  Or, rather, we intended too.  First we had to deal with The Great Evans Passport Debacle of 2013.  I don’t really feel like talking about it, because I am still pissed about it, but I will give you the gist.  We were all packed and ready to leave, when the night before we couldn’t find our passports.  The only passport we could find was Truman’s.  We turned our filthy house upside to find those bastards.  To this goddamned day I do not know where our original passports are.   It was quite the ordeal.  I would like to thank my parents, Expedia, and the Houston Passport Agency for getting us to Mexico.  ::round of angry yet enthusiastic applause::

Mexico was awesome.  Duh.  We went to an all-inclusive resort.  Nothing too exciting, but excellent all the same.  It was mad chill.  I went zip-lining, snorkeling, and ate at buffets a lot.  I got sick twice! I also managed to skin both of my elbows on a water slide.  So you know, memories that will last a life time.  Really though, I had a lovely time with my family and Truman loved every minute of it.




But let’s get to the real reason I came here–to complain about something really trifling.  I am sorry, just HAVE to bitch about this.  Right then, so let the bitching commence!  Okay, so I had based my entire fall/winter look on this one black skirt, and had already bought shirts to complement it and everything. I even got my hair cut based around this fucking skirt.  I was planning for a 60’s French girly tomboy look, like my all time fashion icon, Jean Seberg.  It gave me a super valid excuse to buy even more stripey Bretonesque shirts.  It was going to be a welcome change from my scruffy summer look of jorts and t-shirts.

Who wouldn’t want to emulate her?

Anyway, so I go to Target yesterday to buy said skirt, and I CAN’T FIND IT ANYWHERE.  It’s like it NEVER EXISTED.  But, I know that it wasn’t a figmentof my imagination because I had previously purchased the same skirt in grey.  Why did I buy it in grey, instead of the more useful black?  I don’t know, because I am dumb.

This skirt is described as short and flippy, and that is just what I had in mind.  I imagined myself in my little black flippy skirt and stripey shirt, skipping down the sidewalk, carrying a picnic basket, and wearing a giant bow on my head.  I was to be the cutest bitch since Marlo Thomas in That Girl. BUT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooO, Target screwed me over! I still managed to spend almost $100 dollars yesterday, because in a fit of madness I purchased, this, and some other random shit.

I know know, it is seriously the lamest thing to be mad about ever.  Especially since it is just a basic black skater skirt that you can get almost anywhere. They are very popular this season.  Since I started writing this, I have already found several adequate replacements.  I even found a stripey one, and a flirty lil’ denim one. It took me literally five minutes to find all of these skirts.  I spent more time moping about the stupid thing than I did googling it.  IN CLOSING, I am going to be so cute this fall y’all!  Everything is fine and wonderful!  The world is great!  I will try to start writing more!  Here is an entire episode of Charmed Lives, a Who’s the Boss spin-off featuring Fran Drescher.  Enjoy!

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A Million Years Later…My Roast Post!

Over a week and a half ago I had a comedy roast for my 30th birthday.  Only now can I speak about the horror.  Until now, the wounds were just too fresh and just thinking about the roast had me cowering in the corner, rocking back and forth. I have had extensive therapy for PTSD and am now a productive member of society again and I am ready to share with you!

Really,  the whole reason I had a comedy roast is because it gave me a chance to be the center of attention, and because I am nearly impossible to offend.  I also knew that my friends were wickedly funny, and that I provided them with a wealth of material.  Some of my friends are still roasting me to this day, it’s as if I opened a door for them to make fun of me every day.  Little did they know, that door was already open.  Unfortunately, time and an incredible amount of alcohol consumed that evening have wiped away some of my memories.  But never fear, my wonderful friend Jason, dog sitter, writer, and photographer extraordinaire was on hand to photograph the entire affair.  He is a great photographer and is available for all of your photography nee-ee-eeds! Caution, if you don’t want to see gratuitous pictures of me laughing or are easily offended, turn back now.

I knew there were going to be a lot of jokes about my butt crack  and my boobs.  When I was getting dressed I had to decide whether I wanted to wear a shirt that obscured my spare tire, or showed off my boobs.  I of course chose the latter.  I was late to my own roast of course because that’s how I roll, but that’s okay because everyone was wary of going first.  No one was drunk yet and it was still sunny out.  It’s hard to insult someone to their face in broad daylight.  Luckily Chad stepped up to MC, and introduced my jerky friend Jeff, who actually had some jokes written up.  He took some jabs at my extreme hirsuteness and had en enormous number of jokes about the size of my infant son’s penis.  After much prodding Jeff gave me his notes from the roast and though they were mostly indecipherable, I was able to cull a few of them from the chicken scratch:

Letty posted a pic online of her and Chad meeting Rufus Wainwright.  What the fuck happened to you?  It looks like y’all fell from the adorable tree and hit every branch on the way down until you become the homely hipster hobbits you see today.  Apparently Letty gained 30 pounds and Chad ate a drifter, but hey.

I met Letty and Bridget at kickball, try to imagine a biracial Laurel & Hardy, but Laurel is a whore and Hardy’s a squat Mexican with the eyebrows of an old Jewish man.

Most hot girls keep a chunky/homely friend around to make them look better by comparison. Bridget and Letty took great pleasure in keeping us on our toes wondering which was which.

Believe me, it was funny.  Below are my reactions to his jokes.





nailed it

Nailed it.

Chad did an excellent job as MC and kept things moving a long smoothly along with telling embarrassing stories about me.

Next up was Lola, and she was an absolute pro.  She was so smooth with her delivery and really hilarious.  I am proud that she is my writing partner on our upcoming parenting/humor blog Contractually Obligated (coming soon!).  Her set ended with her giving me my Planned Parenthood punch card back. I love her.

Lola is a like a female Don Rickles

My faux brother and bandmate Vinh told a story about how I got shwasted during an intermission at the first big wedding our band ever played.   The last song we played was “Shout” and in my intoxicated state I got really into my vocal performance and rolled around on the ground and flashed everybody.  He claims I wasn’t wearing underpants, but I was.  Leopard print ones.

vinh letty roast


Other wonderfully rude friends took jabs and me and told embarrassing stories but perhaps the cream of the crop was my good friend, genius, and band mate Allison, who wrote a series of haikus about me.

allison letty

This girl is a true poet.

I am proud to share some them with you.

Racist Mexican Jokes

Letty, Your friends tell

Racist Mexican Jokes, but

I am not so crude.


But honestly though

This is the only place where

I’d wear lip liner

Letty’s Husband Chad is so old

Letty’s husband Chad

He is so old he sits down

To pee…on his wife.

“A Tip for When Letty and Chad Invite you Over for Drinks”

Friends over for drinks?

Just make sure she rinses the

Mayo jars real good.

“Letty’s buttcrack wins an Award”

Austin Chronicle:

“The Best Place to Find Free Coke”

That’s Letty’s Buttcrack

“Letty Loves Cheap Wine”

Letty is lovely

Like a young brown mare prancing

in the Arbor Mist

That Stinky Smell

What is that foul smell?

You thought I’d say Letty’s snatch

Nope, I just farted.

Letty’s Favorite Word

Letty loves the word

Boner boner boner bo

ner Boner Boner

And my personal favorite:

A Discussion in the Marketing Department at the Corn Dog Factory

Praise the Lord Jesus

Our prayers have been answered

Demographic found.


She murdered me.

Needless to say I had a great time.  I wish I could remember more!  My favorite part of the entire evening, other than getting completely ravaged by my friends, was just having all my different social circles in one place together.  I had my band friends, my kickball friends, my trivia friends, and my theatre friends all here to make fun of me!  I am truly happy to have such rude, crude friends.  When it was my turn to get up and talk I was too inebriated to make any good jokes and only managed to take a jab at the proprietor of the bar, Tim, who generously let us use his back patio for the affair.  I compared him to Sam Malone from Cheers, but without all the sex appeal.  BADUCHING!

I know roasts aren’t for everyone, but I loved it and I love my friends.  I thank them all for coming out.  I made me feel good to feel so bad. 🙂

hard laughing

Obviously upset.

Also this happened:


Get it girl.

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