On Trying To Be A Funny Woman

Note: I wrote this about 3 years ago when I was halfway through my time at the Second City training center in Chicago. My feelings have grown a bit more complex on the matter, but I like having this as a reminder of how I felt when I first started trying to be funny for realsies.

It was very tough, the first year at least, because they were fighting – particularly the woman writers for their material to get in, which only applied to women’s issues.

– Chevy Chase

I’d like to say that this sort of statement feels antiquated and like my experience thus far in Chicago has taught me that comedy has come a long way in regards to women.

And, in a sense, it has. Tina Fey has blazed a trail in recent years, as have people like Amy Poehler and Kristen Wiig.

They’re hilarious. They’re women. Their uteruses don’t impede their ability to be funny and, sometimes, it even helps drive their point of view and makes them more hilarious.

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A Story On Not Meeting Michael Shannon

There’s this bar we go to after class right outside of Second City called The Ale House. It’s an interesting dive bar – there are half-naked pictures of various (supposedly) famous people covering every surface of the walls, including one of Mitt Romney posing coyly in his “Mormon underwear” (note: I don’t believe this underwear is underwear that any actual Mormon would be caught dead in).

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The Burden Of Having A Slightly Uncommon Name

So I was born in the eighties which, I know, was like a million years ago. But I grew up in a time where the most common name for girls was “Lauren” or “Ashley” or “Katie” and being a Krista (with a K) was a bit of a novelty.

I’m not named after anyone. My parents decided upon the name randomly (apparently my mom had a student named Krista or something and she liked the name and it stuck). My sister was named after my grandfather and our great-grandma, so I always sort of resented the fact that her name had significance, while mine seemed to be pulled out of the destiny’s butthole of randomness*. Sure, it’s a nice enough name, but it’s always caused some problems for me.

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