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stranger things

24 Oct

last month was kinda big.  like really big.  like, REALLY REALLY REALLY big.  ok fine, not that big…but pretty big.

the bigness? (that’s totally a real word FYI)…just a few weeks ago marked my 10-year anniversary in LA.

i’d love to say i hired a few hookers and snorted a mountain of coke celebrated this huge milestone…but i didn’t.  i worked late and found myself in bed fully-clothed after a luxurious bowl of frosted mini wheats and a glass of questionable chardonnay.  so while this wasn’t exactly what i hoped/planned to do on my big lalaanniversary, it did give me the time and space and fiber to reflect on this ridiculous, decade-long journey.

the girl that jumped on that plane so many years ago seems like almost a character in a Lifetime movie novel.  armed with a newfound lust for actors/musicians/doormen life, hollywood coco went to fancy lounges and cool concerts and awesome art shows and delicious new restaurants.  and while she was 10 lbs skinnier, she was also 10 years lighter emotionally after getting out of a ten year relationship.  she was oft scared and awkward and uncool in this land of swimming pools and movie stars…but she somehow powered through all her weirdness to embrace that crazy ‘ho called hollywood.

how does one summarize 10 years…especially when much of it has been fueled by questionable decisions and pinot grigio?  well, you have to start at the beginning

fergie was talking about her london bridge and working on her fitness and was generally being all fergalicious.


justin was putting his d*ck in a box AND bringing sexy back.

02802a6a9801e9190bd747bcaa117589sexy-justin-timberlake-4 (1).gif

britney left kevin federline and was gearing up for her epic head shave.


it was an exciting time for all of us…most notably me.  and as the days turned into months that then turned into years, i’m now finding it nearly impossible to summarize such an incredibly fergalicous growth-producing era for the coco.

over the years, friends have come and gone.  boys also came and went (wait that sounded hot dirty). i changed careers and apartments more than i cared to.  i finally learned not to date musicians and actors and doormen (most of the time).  i stopped giggling when i ate kale and talked about reiki…and actually learned to enjoy both (hi weirdo!).  i now believe whole-heartedly in mercury-in-retrograde and chakras (still call them chakra khans though because rome wasn’t built in a day).  some days this city has beaten the snot out of me.  others, it has given me a long, warm, sunkissed embrace.  i’ve never been more creative in my life than during this decade (exhibit a: this blog) and have never allowed myself to be more human, more feeling, more fallible than during this time. and because of all of this, i grew into the spaz woman i am today.

looking ahead, i’m stoked for what the future has in store. i mean…justin is still making incredible music. britney pulled it together.  fergie is…well…everyone can’t win.   i have so many epic experiences in my rear-view window that continue to fuel today’s coco.  a coco who’s a grown-a$$ woman who knows what she wants and is not going to let anything get in her way.  a coco who looks forward to continuing her love affair with her beautiful, f*cked up city.

but never one to revel too long in the past, i can’t help but wonder what stranger things are in store for me in year eleven?

Hopefully it’s more like this:


And less this:


because that that whole ‘shaving one’s head and having coke-nose’ thing is so 2006….right britney?


earning your wings

15 Aug

the last few weeks have been a shit sandwich served with a large side of poopiness.  epic work stress…the kind where i wondered if i would even have a job come monday? oh yes please!  water heater leaking all over my kitchen floor creating the need for an ark to get to my espresso machine? why not?! a nasty-a$$ upper respiratory infection that won’t quit me? give me that!  that fun time when cute gun-play guy did quit me?  yasss girl yassss!!!!!

but in the middle of this swirling feces-fest, i did something kinda cool.

i told a silly story at The Moth.

if you don’t know the Moth, you need to stop reading this RIGHT NOW and check out their podcast now…I’ll wait for you…




amazeballs right?!

for my Moth aficionados…they do live events in a bunch of cities where out-of-work writers and actors people share short stories on a pre-specified theme.  dubbed Moth-Slams, each potential storyteller puts their name in a hat at the onset and then sh*ts their pants waits to see if they get picked. If they do, they get 5 minutes to wow the audience with a fully-memorized, true story.  once you throw up in your mouth finish your story, judges get all judgey and assign points for overall story, keeping to the time limit (clearly they’ve met me), and the relationship to the night’s theme. the winner of the night (and other nights) go on to compete at the Moth’s Grand Slam.

the best part about these events?  on their website they say, “many of the tellers use profanities that may be offensive to children and their parents.” how can i not be part of something like this?!!

so last weekend when i was listening to my beloved kcrw and they were giving away tix, i took this as a sign from the public radio gods to finally get my Moth on. the theme?  beg, borrow or steal.

prior to getting my a$$ dumped by cute gun-play guy, i decided it would be a great idea to invite him as my date.  since dating in LA isn’t difficult enough…i figured that standing up in front of the person you want to have sex with and 100 other people you don’t (at least most of them) on a stage and telling a perfectly crafted, fully memorized story whilst under the influence of dayquil, zyrtec, and three screwdrivers was a stellar idea.

in my defense he’s a big moth fan too.  and i’m clearly insane.

the entire night was a bit of a blur…see earlier-referenced vodka/OJ dranks and throwing up in my mouth…but this is what i do recall:

  1. my name was picked second-to-last because…of course it was.
  2. i almost missed my name being called because…of course i went to the bathroom when i gave up on being picked.
  3. the lights were REALLY bright.
  4. it was actually really nice to stand in front of a bunch of people and tell the story about the time my brother stole soft-batch cookies from every mail box in our neighborhood.
  5. i don’t think i completely sucked.
  6. a bunch of people actually laughed.
  7. my scores from the judges weren’t great but a few nice people said nice things to me afterwards.
  8. talking of scoring, my date still wanted to sleep with me.

so while i lick my wounds, i’m struck by the symbolism of the moth.  i’ve been keen to emerge from my self-imposed casing as this perfect, beautiful winged soul. but i have to earn my wings.  this means fighting for me and being vulnerable and taking risks and asking for help and getting low scores from judges and feeling like you’re going to shart your pants from time-to-time. it’s officially time to pull my a$$ out of that dark place that tells me “you can’t, no, why bother” and instead, believe that i can fly…

not in a creepy R. Kelly kinda way, though.

ps you can’t talk about moths without talking about the best one of all…mothra. she likes to kick godzilla’s ass and save tokyo. and she looks sassy doing it.  kinda puts it all in perspective. #girlpower


“If the world lives to see another century, please remember what mothra did for you and the planet you live on.” -Godzilla vs Mothra


13 Apr

dear yazzyhead,

it’s two nights before the anniversary of your passing and i’m a f*cking mess.  mommy was hoping that she was done with all that ugly crying that makes her face puffy for days and would somehow get through this sh*tty week.  and surprisingly, i was actually doing pretty well.  and then all-of-a-sudden, while i was changing my bedsheets tonight, i lost my sh*t.  if you were here you’d most definitely judge me for not pulling it together.  but i couldn’t help but to remember how much you loved clean bed linens and mommy just couldn’t hold it in any more. so now i’m sitting here sobbing and writing and listening to our queen of lesbian rock shawn colvin and missing you more than i’ve missed anything else in my life.

i wish i could say something prophetic about your loss.  but you know what? i won’t.  i can’t.  it sucks and there isn’t a day that i don’t wish you were with me.  i didn’t know i could love something or someone as much as i love you.  i guess that’s what happens when you’re together for nearly 18 years. i still get sad when i clean and find kitty hair.  i feel weird and emotional about getting rid of it which also means i’ve reached level: advanced for crazy cat lady grief. stella kitty misses you, too. i wish you could see how she’s adapted to being the lady of the house. she’s found her voice as an old lady and has become quite the diva.  she’s never been the only kitty and she’s learning to flourish in the limelight.  she’s also going through renal failure like you, but thankfully her kidneys are still fighting to keep her going.  i’m a little less scared as i enter this final chapter with her as you taught me what to do.  i’m thankful that your fight wasn’t in vain, and that sweet stella (and mommy) are reaping the benefits of your experience. we both know you’re watching over us.  and even though you weren’t the best of friends, stella truly appreciates that you opened your home and shared her mommy with her.

i think i’m going to visit the vet tomorrow and bring them something nice.  maybe cookies or chocolates.  they were so good to you, and i really hope they know how much i appreciate how hard they fought for you.  they loved you so much…even though you weren’t their biggest fan.  but it’s ok…you were a momma’s girl and everyone knew that.

once the dust settles, i’m thinking of getting a jasmine plant for the courtyard in honor of you.  i wanted to do that when you first passed but it was too soon.  a few months back, i decided to be a new-age weirdo and bought an essential oil that smells like jasmine flowers. i wear it every day on my heart chakra and it makes me think of you. i know that you’re laughing at the fact that i actually used the terms “essential oil” and “heart chakra” without throwing up in my mouth and that’s ok.  i’m learning to laugh at me again, too.

i still play this pretty much every morning like i did so many mornings with you.  you are and always will be my home.

i love you, my desert flower.  i miss you every day.

love always,



spit, not swallow

7 Jul

four days off!  yay!  sick three out of four of them!  boooo!  for those keeping track via their coco-illness-score-card, i’ve been ill 2,456,908 times in the last 9 months..give or take one or two times.


so you wanna know what are the most embarrassing wonderful things about being a shut-in while your internal temperature rises to “mars” hot? well, you can blame the fever for all your bad decision-making (including the title of this blog, sorry aunt nancy).  things like not showering until you cannot deny your own stank and using a hand towel to dry off because you ache too badly to go get a new clean bath towel in the oh-so-far-away cupboard.  and taking every medicine in your bathroom at intervals so scarily-close-to-each-other that lance armstrong would smile.  and having stare-offs with your cat, and fist-pumping when you win.

and watching this on netflix:


clearly i’m sicker than we all feared.

but first, let me admit something.  between you and me, i actually like katy perry.  she’s a lot like me.  grew up a good girl, moved to the big city to find herself, her inner voice.  she likes cats.  she likes bad boys/musicians/foreign men. she’s so uncool at times she’s cool (well, i’m the first part of that sentence)


but i cannot let this information out for public consumption. mostly because my BF is seriously in love with her and would leave me in a heartbeat if she gave him three seconds of her time and i would have to punch the radio every time i heard “firework” and i need my hands to write and fist-pump and open nyquil bottles.

so in honor of my bad-decision-making, i thought watching “part of me” would make me feel better.  in the movie previews, they showed her a lot without make-up and with stringy hair and dressed in stupid costumes that looked like she was a character in an amish-version of candyland and she gets dumped by russell brand who i just saw canoodling at dinner in silverlake last week and was all like, “omg that’s russell brand and i bet he could tell me lots of things that would make my BF think twice about his epic love for katy perry…if only i could get him to take his tongue out of his date’s mouth i could maybe ask without being uncouth.” and of course i figured this, combined with all that sweetness and goofiness and  annoying skinniness would make me feel better about being in the same clothes for the past three days and my own stringy hair and how it hurts to fist pump because of the fever aches.

but of course, i fucking love her now.  she’s a hard worker.  she’s silly.  she can actually sing (and does).  she went to a place in japan where you can drink tea and hang out with kitties.  and i did that horrible ugly cry when her marriage was crumbling in front of my eyes and i just wanted to hug her even if she was wearing that rediculous outfit with the spinning candy.  fuck you, katy perry!


and to add insult to injury my tonsils are the size of katy perry’s perfect boobs cantaloupes and are more painful than a breakup with a british comedian. the bad news: this means that everything i try to ingest hurts and i can only spit and not swallow.  the good news: that i’m so gonna get katy-perry-skinny and write a hit song about my suffering.

you win some, you lose some.

baby i’m a firework!

pu$$y pu$$y pu$$y marijuana

16 Apr

from “i could pee on this”

Dear Freddy,

We met just over a year ago. I might have been a bit tipsy that night. and yes, who could forget how i chased you around your room, trying to make you love me (luckily I played a bit more coy with your human). Some might characterize your reaction to my advances as “utter disinterest.” But upon further reflection, you did throw some “OMFG she’s needy/pathetic/weird/creepy” shade my way. which, of course, i took as “i might have a shot with you.”

Thankfully the “playing hard to get” worked for your equally-handsome human.

And thankfully my “I can’t hug every cat” neurosis didn’t lead you to scratch my eyes out.

You’ve been sick since the time we met. But I could see past the failing body. I could see the strong, virile man-cat/warrior prince you once were. I could see that you held secrets of the universe in your eyes…and that they were yours and yours alone. And that nose. Oh how I loved that nose!

And in time, you began to love me back. You knew I was on your side. That I wanted to figure out how to make you better. You (and your human) humored me when I bought you all sorts of thingamabobs and whatchamacallits to help your joints and your thyroid and your weak bladder. I even thought about getting you a medical marijuana card after listening to my favorite brazilian girls” song “pu$$Y pu$$y pu$$y marijuana (“i swear it’s for my BF’s cat!”). You suffered me when I put you in cat diapers. You even laid down in the bed I got you…once. And you knew in your sweet kitty heart that I cared for you like my own.

freddy’s one time chillin in his bed

I would’ve held in my pee forever if it meant more time with you. But it was time. It was your time to cross over the rainbow bridge. You fought it tooth-and-nail because that’s what a warrior prince does. And while I cry for the 2,457 time as I type this, my heart is at peace. Cuz I know at this very moment you’re in kitty heaven eating your weight in delicious noms while the angels rub your silly belly.

It goes without being said that your human dad and your kitty sister are going to miss you like crazy…but don’t you worry a second about them. I’m gonna give them lots of head bonks (sorry human) and belly rubs and love in your honor. It’s gonna be awesome.

And until we meet again in the big petco in the sky, know that I cherished every moment with you, sweet prince.



licking buttery spread off my fingers

28 Feb

HELLO PEOPLE!!!  it’s been a minute, right?!  what’ve you been doing?  are you well?  how’s your mom?  did the penicillin work?

i don’t really know what to write about cuz when i take these long breaks i forget how to blog and then i get frustrated and then i go to eat copious amounts of chunky monkey and then i get sad because there’s only margarine and cooking sherry in my fridge and then i pound sip the latter and then i write inappropriate things on facebook and then i realize i should be writing my blog but then i’m too tipsy to use punctuation and then i shout to the internet gods that i can’t be expected to write whilest I have buttery spread on my fingers and then i say f*ck it and read gawker and then i tell my cat to stop giving me those judge-y stares.

um, yeah.

so until i figure out how to do this writing thing again, i’m going to leave you with some random thoughts/questions.

1) is there a difference between the harlem shake and alabama shakes?  and because i’m so unaware, should i be worried that i’ve finally become my mother?

2) i just bought 6 sessions at a tanning place.  should i be worried that the guy working there had what appeared to be a constellation of face carcinomas in the shape of orion?

3) how can i roofie my cat so i can do this?


4)  a question from “a friend”: how can i delete my netflix history so my guy doesn’t know i’ve been partaking in a “say yes to the dress” marathon? (again).  

5) FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WHY IS HE STILL WITH HER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


big smooches, y’all!  be back soon…swearsies 🙂

happy skanksgiving!

22 Nov

so i’m sitting here in my fleecy-goodness pjs watching a “borrowed” online stream of the national dog show.  and, of course, i’m seriously considering fashioning a leash out of a belt so i can parade Yazzy around the livingroom cuz it sounds fun and i’ve had too much coffee and i don’t want to face my thanksgiving cooking duties.  yazzy, however, is looking at me with cat-scorn as she’s fully aware that she doesn’t need to be leashed and paraded around like an idiot to win a beauty pagent.  and if she spies me even close to my belt drawer, she will be happy to remove a limb or retina.


since i can’t have my own cat show and since i’m still avoiding my kitchen, i figured i should take this opportunity to write. i know it’s been a while since i got all bloggy all up in your face, but as you may know if FINALLY got a job. and the whole, “trying to look like i actually know what i’m doing” combined with “learning how to not sleep till noon” has been all-consuming.  but i figured today would be a great day for coco to get her write on, because it’s thanksgiving and it’s a holiday that dovetails ridiculously-well with my annoying awesome propensity to be all sappy and nostalgic and generally gross.  yay! 

but as i started thinking about the myriad of blessings i wanted to share with you, my eyes were treated to this image of thanksgiving perfection:


courtney stodden is excited for her turkey to be stuffed

meet courtney stodden…one of los angeles newer train-wrecks angelic specimens.  famous for being the teen bride of that old/creepy actor guy from The Green Mile, Courtney has taken over the reign as “best-in-silicone” “princess of understated beauty” from heidi montag.  our mutual love of lucite heels combined with a shared adoration of holiday festiveness makes me want to cancel my thanksgiving plans so i can hunt Courtney down and make her be my BFF.  we would spend the day trying on different clip-on hair pieces, windexing our platform heels, and discussing our exciting plans for a tastefully-slutty Christmas manger shoot.     

so as we sit down with loved ones today, let us give thanks for our many gifts, including courtney stodden and those who aspire to bring us a new kind of thanksgiving.  move over turkey and sweet potatoes and saying grace!  let’s say thanks by giving the world what it really wants…a cornucopia of sluttiness!

happy SKANKSGIVING, y’all!

(for my jar-jar)

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