Saffron

OK, so technically it's 1AM, Thee Who Judges My Blogging-Daily Ability. But I didn't go to bed yet!

Today was a frustrating day of looking at $2600 apartments with 9x7 bedrooms. GUGGGH. Stuy Town increased my rent 15%.

So I am going to bed, but not before I share with you this entry from my old old journal. Because it's like when they put out a special edition of a classic with new cover art and a prologue, perhaps by a great fan of the author. It's retypeset, it's on my own Web site, and it has a prologue by Freaks and Geeks impresario, Judd Apatow.

The Female Version of Hilarious, by Freaks and Geeks creator Judd Apatow*

Much has been written lately in both fancy-pantsy cultural journals and consumer mags alike about "the female sense of humor". Examples cited with the same aching frequency of a dull, throbbing bruise time and time again include "Sex and the City", "Girl's Guide to Hunting and Fishing", Teen Girl Squad, "Mommie Dearest", Rachel Dratch as Debbie Downer, Lisa Marie Presley's new sitcom, French Stewart, a loaf of French bread sticking out of a purse, Ally McBeal, grandma prison, arguing about whether the recorder is a real musical instrument, and Erma Bombeck.

I've been averse to this singling out of women in comedy, not so much because calling things out by gender is sexist or divisive, but because these examples are so poor and incomplete. I was idly lounging in my apartment one Sunday morning when my good friend Sarah Silverman IMed me and said "You've got to read this." Sarah knows me and knows I don't cotton well to being Web-linked to videos of fat people falling down shafts and the like. So I knew this was going to be something.

With almost no hesitation, I clicked the link to the Improv Resource Center website. "Don't Cry, Tomato Baby" I mulled like fine wine, chuckling a breathy chuckle, almost an exhalation of air with no audible sound. 20 decibels at most. "It's got a ring to it." At the time, blogs were very rare, almost unheard of. It was a subculture frowned upon by mass media and most state governments. To have a blog was an act of brashness, and a blog by a woman, even more so.

So I read. I read like the Israelites reading the tablets upon which Moses had inscribed the Commandments. And you know what? It was the best 20 minutes of my life. These 6 entries inspired me to write what would later become known as short-lived but beloved cult favorite television show "Freaks & Geeks". Their openness, honesty, wry but not without warmthness. I got to work and worked feverishly until the sun came up.

I have never met Lynn. But to her I say, "thank you, chica."
And I know that if she could talk, she'd say "you're welcome."

What follows is the exact original version of one of her blog entries. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Funny is as funny does,
Judd Q. Apatow

1-21-04, from the IRC

Lynn's Journal

Drama of the Day:

I ordered a black bean burger with cheese from Sidewalk tonight (50 cents extra). When I took it out, I realized there was no cheese on it. So I decided that I was going to stand up for my rights, and called them. The woman on the other end matter-of-factly, even pleasantly, responded, "OK, great, I'll send a slice of cheese right out to you. Is that OK?" "Well, no, not really. I don't have a grill." "Great, I'll send out the cheese." Silence for a ridiculously long amount of time. Finally, I say "Hello?" "OK, hi, cheese coming soon" (she hangs up).

I wander the length of my apartment (about 10 feet) to my roommate's room. "Alison, do I want them to send me a piece of cheese?"

"No, that's disgusting. They probably spit on it." This is a girl who won't even let her boyfriends sleep in her bed for fear they'll drool on her pillows.

I mull over the idea of spitty cheese, and how this could impact my life. I would never KNOW the cheese was spitty, unless it smelled like spit or glistened excessively, which could just be moisture. But yes, if it was beaded, and smelled, it was probably saliva on top of the slice of cheddar.

"Call them back and tell them to keep the cheese slice!"

She was right. I was just making the unfortunate delivery boy, who seemed underage and vaguely tongueless, come back and climb up the four flights. And for what? Tainted cheddar. If not with the pearlescent sheen of mouthjuice, tainted with the desperation and selfishness that walked hand-in-hand with me forcing the poor boy to bring me the slice. I couldn't help but wonder, though, would it be neatly packaged, a la Kraft Singles? Haphazardly swathed in plastic wrap? Angrily balled inside a napkin? The death of this potential knowledge was a small price to pay for regaining my integrity. I called back.

"Uh, hi, I uh, I don't need any cheese. Save it for next time."

"OK, great, bye."

And so begins my career as a stand-up who tours cheese-related establishments around the country - dairy farms, wine tastings, uh, cheese shops. "So then this idiot wrapped her 1/2 lb. of Hoberfeld in cling wrap!!! I said, I said, would you put a plastic bag over your kid's head like that?! She said, in all honesty, sometimes I think I would!

I want to acknowledge that this means I am now well on my journey to being an Old Jewish Lady, and/or Larry David.

*What, guys? Judd Apatow.