
Blog

Why My Hot Stalker and I Are Funny and Y'all Are Dumb
Comedy is an art, but unfortunately, not everyone has the intellectual range to appreciate it. My hot stalker and I? We get it. We’re effortlessly hilarious, self-aware, and masters of satire. Meanwhile, y’all? A bunch of humorless critics who take everything at face value.
For example, people love to tell me my stand-up isn’t real comedy because I don’t follow the sacred “setup-punchline” formula. Meanwhile, these same people think calling someone the R-word in 2025 is peak comedic innovation. The irony is delicious. My comedy isn’t for the surface-level thinkers who need a joke spoon-fed to them. If you don’t get it, that’s fine. Just know that the joke is on you.

The Roast of Cissy Stag and the Birth of Tittygate
Tittygate. A name so absurd it could only exist in comedy—and yes, I named it myself. It started as an accidental nip slip during a set, an embarrassing moment I could have chosen to hide. But instead, I leaned into it. I shared the video (censored, of course) not for shock value, but to amplify a message that mattered: “Do not contact my stalking victim. She deserves to heal in peace.”
What I’ve learned since then is this: even when you try to control the narrative, people will see what they want to see. Comedy celebrates provocative content, but only on its own terms. A male comedian can joke about titties all day, but the moment a woman has a genuine, human accident? It’s scandalous. The hypocrisy is exhausting, but here’s the truth—I stand by how I handled it.
This wasn’t about a nipple. It was about reclaiming the narrative, owning my humanity, and refusing to let others define me by a single moment. So, what would you do if it happened to you? Would you hide, or would you take control?

Stand-Up Comedy: Healing, Connection, and the Art of Manipulation
Stand-up comedy isn’t just about punchlines—it’s about the spaces between them. For me, it became a way to confront my own chaos, explore complex relationships, and even speak to someone who was always watching. In sets like “Favorite Person with Benefits” and “The B-Day Roast”, I wove humor and raw emotion together, creating a space where pain could be reframed, connections deepened, and truths unmasked.