My daughter wrote a book. Own it. Please.
It’s the second Tuesday of the month, which means, it’s the morning after the UCB show I produce, We Hope You Have Fun. It’s hosted by my daughter, Ruby. And at a time when things are unnerving, I feel free in this one hour. My daughter has been the host of the show since it was originally the Hello Giggles show and except for the first show and a few others, she has been its host. The show originally began as a storytelling show with me as the producer. As I started to learn about the machinations of what it takes to produce a show at a theatre, I started to also understand that it takes a lot of thought. I spend a great deal of time thinking about the people on the line up, who they are and how they flow one into another. Of course none of it is possible without the glue—the host, who happens to be The Teenager, my child. She has grown into a comic. She learns more with every show about being a comic. She will only get sharper. And so, last night, and all the nights before and to come at the Upright Citizen’s Brigade theatre, are special. Which I need right now.
Frances McDormand: “I was too old, too young, too fat, too thin, too tall, too short, too blond, too dark — but at some point they’re going to need the other. So I’d get really good at being the other.”
Robin Thede: “Headed by a woman? Is that a word? That sounds odd. It’s certainly not beheaded.”
New York Train woes.
Why you ought to get off every single day of your life.
“Aging is harder for women.” No shit, Sherlock.
And now have a laugh with Judy Gold.