McKinney’s Emily Nicole Carruth Gives a Hilarious Voice to Your Annoying Household Objects

If you’ve ever suspected your keys are plotting against you, or that the Tupperware stained with spaghetti sauce holds a deep, sorrowful grudge, you’re not alone. Emily Nicole Carruth, a 24-year-old comedian from McKinney, has built a massive following by confirming our deepest, most absurd suspicions: our stuff has feelings, and they are often dramatic.

Through a series of viral skits on social media — find her as @badbittyontheblock on TikTok and @e.n.c on Instagram — Carruth has become the designated psychic for the inanimate world. She gives a voice, an accent, and a surprisingly complex emotional life to everything from a half-empty shampoo bottle to a mischievous printer. Her unique brand of observational humor, which anthropomorphizes the mundane frustrations of daily life, has made her one of social media’s fastest-rising stars.

But before she was giving pep talks to forgotten leftovers in her Los Angeles apartment, her sense of humor was being shaped right here in North Texas.

“All my friends who kind of had the same humor, and being together there is what shaped a lot of my comedy, honestly,” Carruth says of her upbringing in McKinney. She credits the local arts community and a funny family for nurturing her comedic instincts.

“My dad’s one of the funniest people ever,” she says. Family movie nights weren’t just for watching; they were for riffing. “We would make jokes about everything we watched.”

This foundation, combined with an early diet of Saturday Night Live and skit-based YouTube pioneers like Jenna Marbles, helped forge her distinct point of view. It’s a perspective that looks at a stained container and doesn’t just see a cleaning challenge, but a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions.

The genius of Carruth’s comedy lies in its uncanny accuracy. She doesn’t just assign a personality to an object; she assigns the right one. We watch and nod, thinking, “Yep, that’s exactly what that would sound like.” This isn’t an accident. It’s the result of a creative process that is both spontaneous and meticulous.

“Those things that happen, I have feelings towards them,” she explains. “So, it’s the idea of, ‘what if they had feelings back?’” This empathy for the inanimate is the core of her work. “It’s sort of like bringing to life the feelings they’re bringing out in me… it feels so visceral to me when I experience it.”

When an idea strikes — often a single sentence or a fleeting moment of frustration — it goes directly into her phone’s notes app.

“Because if you don’t write it down, sometimes you lose it,” she says.

While she doesn’t have to film immediately, capturing the initial spark is critical. From there, it’s a process of experimentation. She tries out different voices and personalities, sometimes editing an entire video before realizing it’s not quite right.

“I’m like, ‘That’s just not this guy,’” she says.

For Carruth, something as simple as a beleaguered tube of toothpaste requires the perfect tone, sass and accent. Her breakout video, the now-iconic “Spaghetti Tupperware,” is a perfect example of her method and a piece she remains incredibly proud of. The skit features Carruth as a Tupperware container, permanently tinted orange, lamenting its fate with a world-weary sigh.

“When I filmed that, I was crying-laughing to myself,” Carruth recalls. “It’s the most I’ve ever made myself laugh. And so, the fact that it made so many other people laugh, too, was just such an amazing feeling.”

The commitment was real, too. She went to the grocery store and bought marinara sauce specifically for the video, smearing it all over her mouth for authenticity.

“I was like, this might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my life, but the fact that it paid off was so incredible,” she says.

Though she now lives in L.A. to pursue her larger ambitions of acting and writing for film and television, Carruth’s connection to North Texas remains strong. Coming home is a multi-sensory experience filled with a sense of nostalgia.

“There’s a Kroger right by my house. Every single time I pass it, it’s like I remember being in there when I was four in a little princess dress,” she reminisces. Her closest friends are still her friends from home, and their holiday reunions are a cherished tradition. “I think my favorite people in the world are all there.”

However, while she remains fond of her Texas roots, her ultimate goal is to take the storytelling she has mastered in 60-second clips and expand it onto the big screen.

“That’s always been the dream, ever since I was little, to see myself in the movie theater telling a story,” she says.

While comedy is her current domain, she has ambitions to explore other genres, including horror and coming-of-age dramedies. For now, Carruth continues to build her world one skit at a time, navigating the challenges of staying original in a trend-driven digital landscape. She avoids spending too much time on social media and often needs to retreat from distractions to tap into her unique creative flow. It’s a discipline born of self-trust.

“I have managed to be extremely comfortable being myself and putting that out there,” she says. “I think it’s very hard, you know, to not question… ‘What are people gonna think about me?'”

For Carruth, the answer is clear: what’s more important is what she thinks. And what she thinks is that the world is alive with stories, even in the most overlooked corners of our homes. We’re just lucky she’s here to translate them for us.