Musings on Amusing: Phone Disservice

. a blogumn by Jessica Glassberg A journey through the struggles, insecurities and over-analyzing that make a comic funny For more than six months, my cell has turned itself off more times than the amount of calls that I have made.  It has arbitrarily decided which voice mails and text messages I actually receive and this is all in addition to the calls that just “drop out.”  I suppose I now feel some empathy for those Hollywood execs who get frustrated with their assistants. After waiting over half an hour at the AT&T store by my house to talk to someone about my situation I am told that they cannot do anything for me there, but that I need to go to the AT&T service support center up in Westlake Village… about a forty minute drive away.  I figure now that I’m “working for the government,” I have some time on my hands and head out for the journey up the 101. I arrive to find the twenty-something phone technician/sales associate, Massy, on a very important phone call involving the previous Saturday’s activities which included her friend Lisa’s interlude with a guy named Sean… or Shawn… she didn’t spell it for my benefit.  After waiting at the counter for a few minutes and a significant rolling of the eyes, Massy pauses her convo with Lisa with an emphatic “Ugh,” and places her hand over the receiver and asks me if I’ve signed in.  I glance around the office.  Other than some cell phone accessories for sale, it’s just Massy and me.  I write my information onto the clipboard, describing my phone’s inability to do its job and wait as Massy continues on with the great adventures of Lisa and Sean… or Shawn. Another customer...

Musings on the Amusing: Why is the Government Trying to Steal My Identity?...

. a blogumn by Jessica Glassberg A journey through the struggles, insecurities and over-analyzing that make a comic funny Like far too many Americans nowadays, I am currently “between jobs.”  Or to give it a little more credibility… “working for the government.”  Or to add some LA flair to it, I now have an overall deal on this new project with Arnold Schwarzenegger. No matter how I package it, I am unemployed.  Sadly, writing spec scripts that hang out together on my hard-drive and performing stand-up aren’t paying the bills I completed my on-line application claim for “unemployment insurance,” where I was asked to recall my previous employment from the past 2+ years.  But the Employment Development Department didn’t really want to know about my previous employers.  They wanted to know the addresses where my paychecks were issued (not to be confused with the address where I reported for work, nor the address of the made up production company Disney invented for the show that I worked on in order to get out of paying health insurance for those of us not in a union.). A week after completing my EDD application, I received my first envelope.  YES!  I know unemployment doesn’t pay much, but not much is still better than nothing.  I anxiously opened the envelope to reveal… a letter.  More specifically… a “Notice of Requirement to Register for Work.”  It declared that I had 21 DAYS from the date on the notice to complete my registration information and add my resume to CalJOBS.  No problem.  I had my resume ready to go and I knew if anyone can get me a writing gig, script coordinator job or writers’ assistant position… it was the California Government. So… I went to caljobs.ca.gov and they...

Musings on the Amusing: Something Old, Something New… How to Plan A Wedding… I Have No Clue!!!...

. a blogumn by Jessica Glassberg Many girls know by the age of nine how they want their dream wedding to look and feel…, What style dress they will wear, how they want their hair to look, the types of flowers they will hold, and how many bridesmaids will be by their side. I AM NOT ONE OF THESE WOMEN! I have been engaged since the end of December, and find myself more and more lost by words like overlay, ceiling drapes, rental delivery fee, and the various definitions of soft bar service… none of which include the addition of cushions, pillows or feathers…. Soft bar… anyone?  Anyone? And the word fiancé makes me feel more pretentious than a person who complains about planning a wedding. Oh… and who knew a cake needed a whole table?  And that you may have to pay extra for it! All I know is… who I’m going to marry and that it will be somewhere in southern California. Every day I feel less and less effeminate and that at any minute the wedding police are going to come and confiscate my engagement ring, shake their judgmental heads and tell me I’m just not ready. “WHERE ARE YOU REGISTERED?” My family wants to know when I’m registering.  Yes, I think it’s wonderful that they’re so excited to buy me stuff…  “It’ll be so much fun to shoot the registry gun.”  How do I register for things when I don’t know how much room I’ll have for said items?  I’m still accustomed to using red plastic beer-pong cups… now I’m supposed to pick out china?  How can I select a knife set that will last a lifetime when I can’t even decide on a venue for one night? “HAVE YOU...

Musings On Amusing: I Can’t Be Creative When I Can’t Feel My Fingers...

. A blogumn by Jessica Glassberg It was September of 2003 when I moved into my current apartment.  When the first “chill” of an LA winter crept into my dwelling, (read: it dropped below 70) I called the gas company to ignite my pilot light.  I would have done it myself, but I continually had visions of full room combustion and memories of Erica Walters lighting her hair on fire during the candle light ceremony at her Bat Mitzvah… A lovely gentleman came by and, with minimal chit-chat, lit my fire… not in the Jim Morrison sense, you dirty minds.  Now, when I wanted to work on a spec script for this amazing new show, Arrested Development, which I was sure was going to be a hit to go on for many years to come,  I wouldn’t have to wear two sweatshirts and wrap myself in multiple fleece blankets… I could just turn on my heater.  I don’t like to wear jackets when I write, drive or eat… I’m too restricted.  Quirky?  Perhaps.  But it’s how I operate. Then, by October, like the torch Cruz Bustamante held for the Governor’s seat during the recall, so too was my pilot light inexplicably extinguished.  And so came another call to the gas company, and another visit from a different kind of fireman… one who lights fires… (Isn’t fireman a more appropriate name for an arsonist… and extinguisherman more appropo for what is currently dubbed a fireman?) Anyhoo… my pilot light was relit for the last time… Not because it actually began WORKING… but, because it went out after a few days and I figured there are about 6 weeks of cold here in LA… and as a New Yorker, I can handle it .  In reality…...

Musings on the Amusing: Know Your Audience

. A blogumn by Jessica Glassberg When I walk out on stage, I usually have a sense of what kind of audience I’m performing for: A Hillel-sponsored event:  bring out the Jewish mother jokes My dad’s retirement party: a few inside jokes, but pretty G-rated. On a college campus: get more risqué. The same theory holds true for conversations in every day life and how people react when not in an audience where all eyes are on me for a set amount time whilst holding a microphone. Sometimes, my normal sarcastic “charm” can be misconstrued as obnoxious… then if I defend myself with the always endearing, “I’m not obnoxious… I’m funny,” I don’t win any fans.  Or, when it is learned that I am a comedian, inevitably, someone will request, “say something funny.”  Know this… nothing is worse than demanding a comedian say something funny.  If you’re talking to a surgeon, do you expect a spontaneous appendectomy?  If you met an actor would you have him perform the “To be or not to be,” monologue from Hamlet on the spot? I spent this past weekend with my boyfriend’s extended family in Detroit, Michigan. Inevitably, a lovely eleven-year-old girl had just learned that her cousin’s girlfriend is a comedian and demanded, “ Tell me your best joke.” My mind went blank… hmm, most of my jokes are stories, and not exactly appropriate for an eleven-year old mind.  Okay, I have a few shorter jokes, and I went through them all in my mind: too sexual, too religious, too mature… I can’t tell someone else’s joke… Can’t let it get around the playground circuit that I’m a joke stealer… I had nothing. I was saved by my boyfriend’s quip of, “Two peanuts were in the city...

Musings on Amusing: Why I Might Be Wearing A Costume Next Thursday

. A blogumn by Jessica Glassberg Halloween pressure. Halloween is the time of year when everyone dons his or her scariest, sexiest and funniest. As a comic, the expectation to bring the funny or pun-y, as is often the case, is pretty high.  I received over half a dozen emails asking what I was going to be… some even saying they were excited to hear because “I’m always so creative…” DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT KIND OF PRESSURE THAT IS ?!?!?! Some years have been better than others… My old corseted princess-style prom dress came in handy a few times… Wore a comedy/tragedy sign on a crown, smeared my eye make-up and pinned a slew of Broadway Playbill covers to the dress… I was a drama queen. More Costumes after the jump: Then, another year, still happy to fit into the aforementioned dress, I wore a ginormous Jewish star crown, pinned pictures of Americana (from apple pie and a baseball to pictures of Springsteen and Pam Anderson & Tommy Lee) and went as a Jewish American Princess. When my boyfriend Derek and I joined forces for the first time a few years ago… I taped giant foam lawn dominos to my person and he adorned himself with “Hello my name is Derek” stickers (his back was covered) and we were DEREK & THE DOMINOS.  This would have been a more clever choice had it been 1970 when their hit Layla hit the air waves…most people just didn’t get it. Needing some redemption, we dressed as:  “Jack & Jill…after the fall”… we were a hit, won a costume contest and everything.  We got some thrift store overalls, white t-shirts and rolled them around in the mud and grass.  Put some fake scars, blood and...

Musings on Amusing: A Host of Possibilities

. A blogumn by Jessica Glassberg This past Friday,  I hosted a benefit concert (featuring Peter Daily and Tatem Jones) for the play “Razorback” at the Rogue Machine Theater on Pico. I had a simply swell time. The reps from the theater genuinely seemed happy to have me MC and the audience was enthusiastic and  encouraging. The crowd was clearly there to see the bands, but seemed to enjoy my monkey dance as well. And it got me thinking…why don’t I host more often? In the 9+ years I’ve been performing standup, I’ve only hosted about a handful of shows. Not for lack of wanting to… but maybe ability… Out here in LA, hosts usually organize and book their shows. And since I don’t run my own show… I haven’t really had many opportunities to MC. A lot of my fellow comics look down on the position of hosting as a burden. But, when you think about it…who does the audience remember? The Headliner and the MC…the two performers with the most stage time. And I know I’ve been plugging away at this to eventually be noticed by more than the people who ask to be removed from my comedy update emails (this daily dose of self deprecation has been brought to you by the letters J & G and the number 2…don’t even think enough to make myself number 1). On a marathon show of  10+ comics, most comedians don’t want to take the “bullet” – the first spot after the MC. But with a good MC getting the comedy train moving, the spot becomes quite a cushioned position. The audience should be warmed and ready to continue laughing…but often, this doesn’t happen. Why? MCs can truly make or break a show…they set the tone and...

Musings on Amusing: Obnoxia, USA

. A blogumn by Jessica Glassberg If a comedian is on stage and no one hears her…did she tell a joke? Since moving out to LA, I have returned to Long Island numerous times and, whenever possible, will work in some stage time…it’s usually a grand ‘ol time. This past weekend, however, was different. I walked into the club…and instead of the usual stragglers in attendance at a comedy show on a Sunday night; the entry way was filled with people.  It was a huge event for local soccer teams…the more the merrier…or so I thought. I met up with my fellow comics in the greenroom backstage as the MC warmed up the crowd. We couldn’t hear what was going on, but when the MC returned, he looked beaten and said in a most sarcastic way, ‘Good Luck.” I went around to the showroom …the crowd only responded to jokes involving putting one’s balls in the toilet or shitting one’s pants. Eventually, it was my turn, and I thought…do I go dirty?  My dirty material is barely PG-13 and this was an NC-17 crowd. I heard my intro, but I might have been the only one.  95% of the audience was talking…not whispering, not on it’s way to quieting down, but in full on conversation mode. As I approached the mic stand, the only thing I could decipher was a masculine voice heckling, “Okay…next.” Apparently, someone was of the chauvinist mindset that women aren’t funny. However, amongst the tumult I couldn’t even tell where it was coming from and figured that once I started up…the noise would go down. I was wrong… I did my first joke to a mild reaction, I tried to quiet the crowd down by talking louder…talking lower…pretending we were...

Musings on Amusing: Walk This Way

/ A blogumn by Jessica Glassberg A journey throught the struggles, insecurities and over-analyzing that make a comic funny Last Thursday, I participated in a reasonably new, monthly tradition in Downtown LA.  So, right off the bat, you know I’m not talking about prostitution… Although, en route to my destination, I saw a few ladies (I think they were ladies) of the night…but, this being Hollywood, I’m sure they all had hearts of gold. I was a featured comic in the monthly DOWNTOWN COMEDY WALK LA. Apparently, this was walk # 9, so, perhaps “new” is not the optimal word… It was set up like an Art Walk, but, instead of sitting in a glass box commenting on how sad and closed off the world is, or displaying a blank canvas and showcasing the depths of our souls… we all did stand-up…same messages, just funnier. The audience walked, venue-to-venue…Six locations…10 performers at each locale…all going on at once. If people wanted to spend the evening in one place…they did, if they wanted to follow a certain comic to a second location (“Never go with a hippie to a second location” [name the quote in the comments]) they did. I was invited to perform twice and opted to do 2 different sets…just in case someone saw me at both, I wanted to make sure to give them a whole new show…”Folks, the 8:50 show is complete different than the 9:30 show!” So that’s how I ended up performing at 2 venues in one night… Venue #1 was in the Downstairs Theatre of the New LATC (Los Angeles Theater Center).  The Center appeared to have previously been a bank: you entered into a huge, open marble area, and there was even a room downstairs called ‘The...

Musings on Amusing: Did I Offend You?

. A blogumn by Jessica Glassberg A journey through the struggles, insecurities and over-analyzing that make a comic funny This past Sunday night, I performed at the comedy show, “Sunday, Sunday, Sunday” in Westwood.  One of the comics was onstage discussing how he tried to get excused from jury duty by pretending he was racist.  Fearing getting jumped by the Latinos and African Americans serving on the jury, he decided to say he had a deep hatred for Filipinos…. The audience laughed… The comic was not Filipino, nor Asian, nor Spanish…he was Caucasian… Should the audience have been offended?  Was it not just as “offensive” to assume he would be jumped by the Latinos and African Americans? After he finished with his set, two Asian girls left the theater… Were they offended? Was it just a coincidence and they had to meet some friends down the street? We’ll never know. Are we racist for wondering why they left? Was I offended? No…I was more upset that I have been telling my own jury duty joke for years than by the fact that he singled out Filipinos.  The joke was funny because it was unexpected…not because it was specifically about Filipinos. I am a comedian.  I am a female.  I am a brunette. I am only child. I am five foot-three and three quarters.  I am Jewish.  I am from Long Island. I am a graduate of Carnegie Mellon University.  I am a lover of Nilla Wafers and a hater of exercise.  I am a self-proclaimed half-bulimic…I binge, I just don’t purge. There are innumerable categories that can encompass who I am.  And, as a comedian, there is an unwritten law that I have free reign to discuss, poke fun at, or shine a light...