Today I published this piece in Punchnel's: A Woman Walks Into A Life-Changing Sex Comedy Show.
This piece is a big deal for me, although it's possible that won't be clear in reading it. It's not written in my usual style (long-winded, endlessly verbose, looooonnnnnng-winded). That's because the editors at Punchnel's were like, "Hey, we will consider publishing this piece, but it needs to be edited a LOT." The original version started with a bunch of paragraphs about women in comedy. Here are some of the paragraphs that got cut:
Read MoreJust because you weren't born somewhere doesn't mean you shouldn't live there! Although, please do the right thing and adjust for gentrification. "Just because you weren't born somewhere doesn't mean you shouldn't live there" is something that mostly privileged white people get to say. OK? Cool! Now take this quiz and enjoy your privilege!
Read MoreYesterday I went on a date. It was not a date with myself -- I am kind of good at those, though, because I'm a great conversationalist, and so am I. But this time around, I went on a date with my roommate, Derek.
Read MoreYesterday my friend Charles invited me to play frisbee golf with him.
That's not actually accurate. He invited me to join him and his (very good-looking) friends to play laser tag, which everyone knows is totally different from frisbee golf. He said, "Meet us in City Park, we are all going to play laser tag." And I thought, "That's a fun and quirky way to celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. I will go and do that, I think."
Read MoreI searched for "salamander" in my Gmail box on a whim (who knows. I don't know. It just felt like what I ought to do) and this came up. It's an old love letter. It really struck me deeply, and against maybe my better judgment I'm sharing it.
Read MoreIt's amazing what makes sense in the woods.
Vastness, for one thing. How big everything is. The scope of a single tree: leaves, branches, bark, needles, seed pods, roots. The scope of many trees: oaks, sycamores, pines, alders, in groves, along hillsides, upwards. The sky, which is deep, like a bowl you will never glimpse the bottom of. The earth, which is old and dark and wise.
Read MoreI was a fat kid. Like, really, really fat. I'm not saying this to get your pity (although, pity me if you feel like it; I was pitiably fat). I was fat enough that my family was concerned and spoke to me about it several times. My mother took me to a nutritionist and everything. People talked to me about it like I didn't realize I was fat. This kind of gentle, "You know, honey... what's going on with... your body... is a serious thing." Because I was so aware I was fat, and so aware that everyone was aware I was fat, I stress-ate in private. I couldn't fit under my bed, but BEHIND my bed was a great spot to drink soy sauce and eat maraschino cherries.
Read MoreIt's not just me. There are lots of us who are weird about books. We just don't necessarily announce ourselves. Crazy book people are notoriously introverted.
Read MoreI have been traveling since the week of Thanksgiving.
I should re-write that, because I haven't been "traveling" the way that long-haired, beautiful, bohemian people who wear waterproof pants and straw hats mean it. Yesterday I went to my local bike shop, and the owner said, "It's been a long time since I've seen you! Where have you been?" I said, "Oh, traveling." He said, "Where have you been traveling?" I said, "Oh, you know, Belize, Greece. Places like that."
Read MoreFor a while, I was writing in my blog every day. That was back when I was doing it "secretly." In quotes, because I always sent everything to my sister Alexis, who reliably said, "SOPHIE YOU ARE THE BEST WRITER IN THE WORLD LET'S BE BOYFRIENDS." That was, for a while, enough for me, and I was in a pretty good practice.
Read MoreDear Satchmo,
What's up? How are you? Have you been sleeping with the electric blanket on during the day? That's a fire hazard, but I approve because it's very impressive that your little non-human paws can turn that thing on all by themselves.
Read MoreI have kept a diary religiously since I was five. (I say "religiously" at least in part because until I was an atheist, I believed that my diary was basically a telegram service to God.) I often wrote open-ended questions as if someone was going to read my diary and answer them. A sample: Who will ever love me? Will I ever be loved? Would I be loved if I was less fat? What IS love, anyway? I am alone, and fat, and should I therefore basically be dead? Etc.
Read MoreThis list is depressingly white-male-dominated. There are two entries here that blatantly benefited from affirmative action (guess which two!), because I got to number seven and was like, "Oh my God, there isn't a female comedian on this list."
I don't think that's because there's a shortage of funny women in the world. I think it's because for whatever reason, mainstream stand-up comedy is a woefully masculine world, and old habits die hard. So I have two honest requests for you, world:
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