I started to post this yesterday, but as you’ll see in my Day In The Life, the day got away from me. I woke up at 6:30. Big day. Rocky up, ready to eat and take his medication. Okay, maybe not really psyched for the meds, but whatever, we’re almost done with this, and he’s not limping anymore and I hope he’s better, finally. The Teenager is up and about. I make her breakfast. We walk out together, she going to school, me to walk Rocky. He’s walking heartily these days, a sign that he has mended, or almost as such. I get home, planning to blog, but everything else is happening. Emails. Texts. THINGS. I know I have to pick up The Teenager at school at noon-ish. I pack my things. I get a disturbing text. Not good. Listening to WTF, Maron emoting about Louis CK. I go to the dry cleaner. I have a small leather backpack that needs to be refreshed; I’m told to Febreeze it, air it out. I head to Lenny’s to pick up a sandwich for The Teenager. I go to the post office and mail a copy of Earth Hates Me. I find out that Mac Cosmetics has shut down its Upper West Side location. I go to Starbucks. I work. At noon, I go to the school. There are reports of an alleged (why do I have to say that? I believe her!) rape in the gender neutral bathroom. The Teenager is shaken. As am I. I know this boy, from afar. I have watched these kids act and be classmates and do workshops for the last four years. No words, no words, all the words too. Not for here though. We walk home, talking the whole time. The Teenager gathers her things. A car picks her up at 1. She’s going to the Glamour Women of the Year Awards, as the red carpet correspondent. I stay behind. I walk Rocky. I gather my things again. And I leave. I go to City Bakery. I have coffee with Lane. Actually, I have hot chocolate. We talk and talk and talk and talk. All the abuse towards women heavily on our minds and tongues. We see our mutual friend Jessica. A few fire alarms come through my phone: a comic can’t do the show, should I find a replacement comic, the show is in a few hours. The Teenager sending me shots of her as her hair is being done, her in her dress, on her way to the event. I am bummed I am not with her. After our hot chocolate, I head to do more errands. I answer all the texts and emails I hadn’t been able to while I was with Lane. I have dinner at Cafe Mogador. I arrive at UCB East at 7. It’s time for our monthly stand up show, We Hope You Have Fun. The show I produce every month. Tonight, we have a guest host while The Teenager works the red carpet, where she will speak to Chimamanda, Maxine Waters, and so many more amazing and inspirational women. And so, my night begins.
Diana Nyad: “These often charming individuals are lauded, presented with trophies for their leadership, from the piggish Weinsteins of Hollywood to the unscrupulous parental figures scattered throughout our suburbs. Statistics bear out the astonishing number of sexual abusers among us.”
Tori Amos: “How many singer-songwriters who are men over the age of 50 have major-label recording contracts? A lot. The Chili Peppers, Sting, U2, Dave Matthews. The list goes on. And how many women? Not a lot.”
For inspiration, Maxine Waters, “Reclaiming my time, reclaiming my time.”
Felicia Sellers:”I don’t want my inaction to mean that more young women have to sit quietly by, unable to share their own dreams of their careers in comedy while hanging out with the fellas. I want to help kick the stones out of their way.”
Lena Headey: “Louis CK. The words you wrote are a shitshow of narcissistic cock soup.”
Women, specifically Black Women, are taking the lead in big, big, big ways in this past year.
Men, men, men, manly men men, as per Rebecca Traister.
The first ever Hajib wearing Barbie. Amazing.
If the Disney Princes were feminist, can you imagine?
I’m super into cauliflower rice, btw.
A Diptyque Advent calendar that I can’t afford, but perhaps you can.
And now have a laugh with Janelle James.