The amazingly funny comic Lisa Best maintains a list of women comics on her website, as a counter to both the assertions that women aren’t funny or that there aren’t very many funny women. I am picking up her practice because I think it’s awesome. This is a list of women who I personally find to be hilarious. It is ever growing and one day I will link all their websites. Check any or all of them out.
We never had a conversation about this, casual or otherwise. Is he hallucinating?
I recently got two questions that had a good amount of crossover, so I’m going to publish them both and address them. I wish I had a cutesy columnist name to go by rather than “Virginia”, like “lovey hearts” or “agony aunt”, but I guess it’s too late now.
Lady 1 says:
I’ve been seeing a man for six months, and recently I spent a holiday with his family. We have never had a conversation about the state of the union or where we were headed. In the last few weeks, I noticed that he was frequently not returning my texts, and when I asked him about it and said it hurt my feelings not to hear from him, he said, well, I’m not ready to be a boyfriend, didn’t we agree that we could just stay casual?
We never had a conversation about this, casual or otherwise. Is he hallucinating? I am furious that I’m the last one to know that I’ve put six months into nothing.
Also, do I absolutely have to stop sleeping with him? I’ve gotten used to him.
Lady 2 says:
I’ve been dating a guy for five months, and when I had an accident on the streets of NYC last month, and broke my arm and was rushed to the hospital and called him, he wasn’t sure what I was talking about- the first time I needed anything from him at all, he shrugged and wandered off, telling a nurse that he wasn’t family, he was “just a friend” and he “wasn’t sure he could help.”
When was I supposed to find out I was sleeping with someone who regarded me as only slightly closer than a workmate? I am furious.
First of all, I am so sorry. You ladies have been, either directly or indirectly, misled. One thing about the hookup culture that these guys are missing is that: it is, by its nature, temporary. To sleep with a nice person once to half a dozen times with no expectation of a future is sort of normal, but to drag it out over half a year and introduce her to family members in an attempt to look like an adult is kind of cruel. I’ve been thinking for a while about drafting a list of things you can’t get in a supercasual modern dating relationship:
You don’t get exclusive claims to weekends
You might not even get to sleep over
You don’t get a date to weddings
You don’t get input on important decisions such as: what to name the dog, what tattoo to get, or whether to go to grad school.
You don’t get to take anyone home for Christmas
Actually, most major holidays are out for you: Valentine’s day, Thanksgiving, New Year’s. You can go out with your casual hookup on Halloween, St. Patrick’s, and Cinco de Mayo: the drinking holidays.
But! Neither of you get to continue dating without some communication. If you have expectations in the relationship, you have to keep clear on what they are. If you want more and they say they’re not ready, you might ask what that means.
Here are some possible things they mean when they say there’s not ready for a serious relationship:
They’re not ready. When you leave, they’re going to go find another girl to annoy for six months or however long they put up with it, and then they’ll look for another one.
They are ready, but not with you. They might be ready for the next girl they meet, which sucks and which is why it might be a good idea to drop them on social media.
They (and this comes up more than you’d think) Will Never Be Ready. They will always be Single and Ready to Mingle. I have met men in Los Angeles who’ve had longer relationships with a car lease than they have with a lady, and find this to be Super Normal. I call them Never-readies, but unlike batteries, they’ll just drain you dry.
They’re ready, but they won’t know it until you leave them and they have a chance to think about what a special person you are and they’ll cry into their pillowcase and think about how nice your pillowcases smell and they’ll come running back, tripping over their untied shoelaces because they pretty much just woke up and came running over to your house.
I know that number 4 sounds very romantic, but it’s probably one of the other three. I’m sorry. I’d like it to be number 4. Keep in mind that whatever the number is, it’s not your fault. It’s not the way you wore your hair or how good you were in bed or how interested you pretended to be in fantasy football or garage rock. You can’t make him ready, and you can’t trick him into being ready. If after being with someone as quirky and wonderful as you are for half a year, if he says he’s not ready, 1. He’s an idiot and 2. He probably isn’t going to be ready.
In any case, your only option is to set them free, back into the dating pool and out of your hair and, lady number one- DEFINITELY stop sleeping with him.
– See more at: http://www.lovetv.co/what-does-it-mean-when-he-says-hes-not-ready/#sthash.wSwFqCLk.dpuf
First of all, this article is based on my own opinions and extrapolations from nine years performing in comedy, and many years before that of being a woman. If it annoys you or makes you angry, I’m not surprised, but nor do I really care.
When Woody Allen married a child he helped raise, it threw us for a loop. Some people stopped watching his films, and many of us continued but couldn’t enjoy them without any thought of his personal life.
Nothing prepared us for the Cosby allegations, spurred on by the comments of Hannibal Burress, and yet, the stories had been circulating for years and nobody paid attention to them. There couldn’t have been a more shocking division of the private and the public versions of one man.
And now we have the Louis CK story. Like Cosby, stories about Louis had been around: in 2009, I heard the account of two female comics being forced to watch him masturbate at the Aspen comedy festival, who were then advised it was in their best interest to keep quiet, but with Jen Kirkman’s podcast (now removed), it no longer sounds like a one-time poor occurrence. And let’s be clear. It’s no Cosby case. It’s not serial rape. But nor is it a kink. He’s not getting outed for having a fun little fetish. It’s for subjecting women to his cock who didn’t want to be sexually involved with him. Why do men whose work we enjoy and respect keep letting us down?
There are a couple of forces at work here.
One is that women are garbage, and that women comics are even worse than that. Cosby apologists let us know that women were liars who wanted money and all the kind of great attention you get from being a rape victim, the same happened to #yesallwomen. So, that’s part one.
Louis CK defenders are pointing out that the only way women comics get ahead is by having sex with people in power. A male comic friend of mine let me know that if a male comic asked me to go on tour, I should assume it’s because he wanted to have sex with me, because otherwise he’d just tour with a dude, like a normal person.
It’s irresponsible to say something like all comics have mental issues or depression or emotional problems or are full-grown man-children, but I have had friends who never dated before they did comedy, and for whom road ass is part of the payment of road work. So, that’s part two.
If I stopped speaking with every comic who had been unfaithful to his girlfriend or wife, who’d sent unasked-for dick pics, who’d been predatory to new women comics, who’d felt entitled to sex with their female friends in comedy, who’d shit on their comedian ex onstage, who’d punched their wife, who’d tried to have sex with an unconscious friend on their couch, who’d laughed with their friends about passing women comics around like jizzrags, who’d judged women for sleeping with male comics but had never judged male comics, who’d had different women in every town before Facebook made the world transparent, I would have about five friends.
Part three is that when people get more powerful, that does not lead to being a better person. You feel protected. You have people. You have representation, legal and otherwise. Why would bad behavior improve?
Lastly, people are not entirely good or entirely bad. That’s movie talk. It is possible to enjoy someone’s art without agreeing with all of their opinions, behavior, or past. Just because someone becomes successful it doesn’t mean that they become perfect. You’re getting “celebrities” confused with “deities”. Deities are perfect, and also they don’t exist.
So, I’m sorry. There may be other scandals involving your heroes. They are happening because women are less-than and famous men are more-than. I don’t know what else to tell you. Hopefully this gets better. It’s not going to change without women getting angry, but guess what? I am angry. Hey, thanks for reading!
(my friend Sal wrote a blog post about figurines and he reckons this one is me. Here’s the whole post, if you must)
One of my favorite Facebook friends is a comedienne named Virginia Jones. When I saw this figure it reminded me of her. I recently heard her on an Internet radio program. She’s so funny! This figure was new, in-package, for only $4.99! Now I need the whole set!
Well, time to start getting ready for the Oscar party!
First step: Blanch skin in boiling water, shave all body hair.
Step two: Steam vagina with lavender, open pores with small diamond head drill
Step three: Get that pedicure where fish eat your feet. Leave feet in until can wear a size 6.
Step four: After weeks of fasting, refresh and relax by sucking on Acai flavored ice cube
Step 5: Slip arms into leather straps, lower into a vat of rejuvenating placenta. Whose placenta? Not my problem
Step 6: Have whole body airbrushed the color of the long-extinct light brown M&M
Step 7: Have hair ombré dyed, conditioned, washed, cut, blown out, flatironed, teased, finally shaved off and replaced with Bowie wig
Step 8: Time to contour! Highlight what you like and lowlight what you don’t until you resemble topographic map of Chile
Step 9: Bring makeup artist picture of Kim Kardashian and ask her to paint on middle of face, frame the rest with hair. Have a lady glue animal fur to eyelashes.
Step 10: Wrap body tightly in duct tape and Saran Wrap, tape boobs and ass together for out of this world cleavage
Step 11: Get fancy art manicure. Tell manicurist “I want something about the whitewashing of minority stories in Hollywood.”
Step 12: Get sewn into gown, adding special matching pouch for catheter bag so don’t have to take it off until midnight
Step 13: PERFECT! Now to be strapped onto gurney and wheeled into walk in freezer to preserve look until the Uber gets here!
Step 14: At the event, see all the tweets ripping you apart for being fat and ugly and not trying hard enough!
This year for Halloween I went as Bereet, from Guardians of the Galaxy. I dressed as her because it was, comparatively, a cheap and easy costume, because I really liked the movie, and also because I found her role in the film kind of interesting.
Guardians of the Galaxy is remarkable for having a full-on female action star hero in Gamora, a female baddie in Nebula, and a female political leader in Nova Prime. It is that rare thing, a sci fi movie that passes the Bechdel test. Gamora becomes the love interest, but not before Peter proves himself to be deserving of her attention and she of his. She resists his well-worn come-on outside the bar in Knowhere, much to his surprise, and this elevates her from conquest to potential partner.
This is not true of Bereet. Bereet is Peter Quill’s last casual hook-up before he meets Gamora. He picks her up on Xandar (I assume, because she’s pink like the residents of Xandar) and he wakes up the and heads to Morag the next morning to steal an orb that the puts the story in motion. As he makes his escape from the planet, he flips his spaceship and wakes Bereet.
Now, there are lots of pink people on Xandar. People with jobs, people with families. None of them speak or act like Bereet, whose voice and delivery is that of a brain-damaged Russian. She doesn’t seem to understand technology, nor the manners of modern communication, because she is a sexual creature and a joke. Peter doesn’t remember her name or even that she’s onboard, hours after seducing her and letting her sexily wriggle into his childhood t-shirt.
An hour later in the film, Peter risks his own life to rescue Gamora as her body deteriorates in outer space. Meeting her, an independent woman who does not immediately fall to his seduction, makes him give up his playboy ways and become a fully functioning human being.
Bereet, despite being beautiful and pliable, doesn’t deserve any of this. I know she’s a foil to show how much Peter grows up. I’m not 100% a dick. I just thought the difference between Gamora and Bereet was interesting to observe: In space, women are equal, but some women are more equal than others. Sometimes my costumes are more about walking around as that character and person for awhile. Or just covering myself in pink airbrush makeup.
Here is my Facebook album, The Several Moods of Bereet.
The funniest thing about this poster isn’t its existence.
The funniest thing isn’t the claim that all penises will be severed on site.
The funniest thing is that the guy who made it doesn’t know it’s funny, and doesn’t want his last name to get out in case his girlfriend gets mad.
Postscript: OK, this guy didn’t wind up protesting because he was “frightened for his safety.” It was a little bit funny for us, looking around at sweet, cute, smart lady comics, people who wear cardigans and glasses, and feeling like we were in the middle of a gender war, but he also might have stayed home because it rained most nights. Who knows? Anyway, we never saw him.
All Jane got lots of great press from this threatened protest, from revered feminist institutions like Bust and Bitch, as well as the LA Weekly, Willamette Week, Portland Mercury, etc. However, with the added visibility, we also started getting spammed by transgender individuals who were offended at the cissexist name, All Jane, No Dick (meaning: assuming there are only two genders.) Never mind that the festival, its organizers, and its participants are trans friendly and supportive, never mind that one of the performers on a short roster is genderfluid comic Rye Silverman. A volunteer had to spend a whole day deleting negative comments from the public spaces about All Jane, and lots of comics and organizers were shame-faced to have raised ire from the trans community for our name, even though we know it’s “edgy” and funny. That’s what comedy is.
But I wasn’t ashamed. I was mad. In my unpopular opinion, whether it’s straight men telling women what to do or transgendered persons telling us what to do, it’s still men telling women what to do, and I’m sick of it. The MOST gender-specific trait for men is telling women what to do, how to be good girls and not offend anyone. We can make whatever we want, we can call it whatever we want, and we’ll do whatever the fuck we want. If we offend people? Good. Don’t come. Life is not about never being offended. Riot Grrl Comedy! Rant over! We had fun! And Sizzle Pie and Montage fed us and it was great!
Postscript: This year, the festival is just called “All Jane.”