Hussy News #138 (Divide by 2, Plus 1 = #69): Sweet Baby Tinkerbell

✨ PAGING MY DEAREST HUSSY ✨

(Yes, that means you, Silly Billy Pants.)

Your presence has been requested, your sparkly delusions have been laminated and validated, and your mimosas, plural, are waiting. It’s symbolic, really. Except the champagne. Which is 110 percent real.

As always, brunch responsibly. Even though bottomless should never have a time limit, hydration is still your responsibility.

Come in. Sit down. Adjust your lashes, tighten your Spanx, put on that out of season Tinker Bell costume, take a Bob Ross hit of pixie dust, start that paint by numbers kit later, strap on those pink Dorothy heels and follow me down the sparkly brick road.

Buckle up buttercup.

AND. Here. We. GO!!

Rando fun fact: my hometown was so small, we all rode the short bus.

Or maybe that was just me. Mama said it was everyone though and she was only three mimosas in.

Either way, buckle up.

We have extra goss, gloss, and OH MY GOSH.

SWEET, BABY TINKERBELL!!!!!!!!

I took an acting class. Took is a strong word. I partially attended one.

It was therapist endorsed. She said it was “medically necessary.”

I was told it would be covered by insurance. No copay.

That could’ve been the prostitute. I always get those diagnostic codes confused.

It may have been the fastest emotional breakthrough of my life.

Relax, Glenda. I file my taxes.

More pixie dust please, Tink.

Back to acting.

The class was four hours. Sweet baby Tinkerbell.

I almost made it one.

Do NOT cut into my mimosa happy hour, Peter Pan. ..Peter, Paul and Mary…or Whatever your name is, Champ.

And get this.

The teacher cried three minutes in.

Three!!

Not because of the acting. Which would have been fair.

Just his life.

Something about a home repo, his mom breaking her hip, and a nasty bout of the herps. I lost interest after he mentioned loving his mom.

That would never happen in stand up.

In stand up, no matter how emotionally devastated we are, we do not cry in front of people.

We wait until we get to our car. 

Like adults.

It’s not that we’re robots beaten down and incapable of tears. It’s not that we don’t want to cry.

It’s that we’re afraid to.

Those pesky roast comics always have a Jeff Ross body double on standby, waiting to destroy us before we have even buckled our seatbelt.

Emotional vulnerability is healthy, right?

Here’s my insurance card.

JUSTICE FOR ROSE’S EVERYWHERE

I just watched the new season of The Night Agent.

Love the show.

The will-they, won’t-they of P-Dawg and Rose? Elite cardio for my emotions.

It could be the mimosas talking, but I always want the sappy love story. Give me that JT and Mila Friends With Benefits chemistry.

AND… this season got personal.

They really said, “They won’t.”

Because just like my budget during a random Thursday sale in March… Rose was puff.

Bye. Bye bye.

She was gone, baby, gone. Hi, Bennifer.

Why Tink, why?

Noooooo. (And yes that was a full Minnesota ooooo.)

It felt like someone named Leo D wrote the script just to get revenge for the ending of Titanic.

“F Rose. I get the raft this time.”

(Evil laugh.) Like, never again. Not on my watch.

Somewhere the greatest TV Rose of all time, Betty White, is shaking her head.

Betty needs more pixie dust NOW, Tink.

Because let’s be clear.

Rose from The Golden Girls would have handled national security with a cheesecake, a charming story from St. Olaf, and would have rocked Peter’s world.

Instead we got plot twists and emotional austerity.

I don’t watch thrillers for realism.

I watch them for tension and longing eye contact in a ’93 Buick.

And heavy petting.

If you’re going to save the country, at least fall in love while doing it.

Otherwise what are we even doing?

Share the damn raft, Leo.

NAMING RIGHTS

L.A. Knight.

Yes. That L.A. Knight. WWE rockstar L.A. Knight.

We were both in the indies in Cincinnati way back. Before the lights. Before the branding team. Before the “YEAH.”

Back then he called himself Dick Rick.

As Owen and Jackie both said in Shanghai Noon — terrible name.

Which is exactly why naming people is not a right.

And why no single dude in his early twenties should be responsible for naming anything.

Twila.

LaDonna.

Cinnamons.

Examples of what happens when Papa spends too much time in a strip club and there are no checks and balances. 

Do better.

I had a 12-name running list just to name my dog and a committee of Olympic judges

Naming is a privilege. It should be earned. And it is not for everyone.

History has proven this.

WWE legal once pushed for “Chilly McFreeze” instead of Stone Cold Steve Austin.

Oopsies.

Let that sink in.

Chilly 3:16 does not have the same ring to it.

And thank God Dickey R didn’t name any kids in his twenties.

Can you imagine?

All the little Dick Ricks running around.

L.A. Knight sounds way cooler.

Although… Chilly Dickey Rickey does have a certain ring to it.

Ok, I’m putting my naming rights in time out.

Comedian To Watch

Sarper Güven.

Yes, that Sarper Güven from 90 Day Fiancé.

By the way, 90 days seems like a big commitment. I’d settle for a solid 90-minute dinner date with a sexy Tinker Bell and extra pixie dust.

He is absolutely crushing it.

We met on a show at The Ice House and he has been nothing but cool to me. Supportive. Focused. Funny.

Watching great things happen to good folks is a joy.

He’s putting in real work.

Touring. Building. Sharpening.

He’s a rising star.

Go follow him and catch a show.

IG: @sarper90day

Shows & Shenanigans

If you prefer your comedy live, loud, and slightly unregulated:

March 10 – D Cups – State Social House – 6:30

March 12 – Flappers – 7:30

March 21 – Comedy Chateau – 7:30

April 18 – Tao Comedy – 7:30

Come see me in person.

I promise tension, sparkle, and at least one joke that makes someone question their life choices.

Tickets at denisewinkelmancomedy.com

Hydration is still your responsibility.

Stay sparkly. Stay dangerous. And for the love of Leo — share the raft. 

TINK, tell Betty to share the pixie dust. 

And that She is no Bob Ross. There are no happy little accidents here.

Your Team Leader of all things Hussy.

Denise Winkelman

…OUT