I got a fan letter on the back of a prison menu. And I remember thinking, ‘Well, they get pie. It’s not so bad. They get pie on the weekends.’ I want to say blueberry and also a Boston cream pie. Not so bad.
I was a little excited but mostly blorft. “Blorft” is an adjective I just made up that means ‘Completely overwhelmed but proceeding as if everything is fine and reacting to the stress with the torpor of a possum.’ I have been blorft every day for the past seven years.
When a man plays a woman in a dress, you’re halfway there. It’s inherently funny. When a woman plays a man, for whatever reason, it’s not that instant kind of funny.
You transition as a mother from literally just pulling a booger out of that person’s nose whenever you see one until at some point they assert: “No, I’m a person. You can’t fix my underpants on the subway.”
I want every day to be the most boring news day ever. I want every day to be about spelling bee champions and baby basketball. It’s better to have no comedy material than a horrific news day.
You go through big chunks of time where you’re just thinking, ‘this is impossible – oh,this is impossible’. And then you just keep going and keep going, and you sort of do the impossible.
If you are a woman and you bought this book for practical tips on how to make it in a male-dominated workplace, here they are. No pigtails, no tube tops. Cry sparingly.
