This Week So Far

Let’s see. I’m the only one in the office at work all week. That is fun. It’s sort of just turning into Jen Kirkman headquarters with the occassional “thing to do.”

I did a radio interview this week, which will air at some point somwhere. I was consistently called an Alternative Comic by the host. I never said I was. Maybe someone who booked me said that. I have no problem with it. But the host kept ‘using it against me.’ He had a hard copy of my resume and was flailing it around and I felt like a girl who was being bullied by someone who snatched a private note out of her hand. I’m yelling, “Don’t read it!” I knew he was one of those guys that because I had a resume, which incidentally you HAVE TO HAVE ONE, in what world do you not have to put your experience on paper for someone to judge you? Anyway he acts like not only did I think I had to invent the concept of a resume, but that I somehow got the resume into his hands as if to say, “Look what I’ve done!”

I have an okay resume but nothing to lose your shit over so my point is, I DID NOT in any way provide this for him to ogle. He let it go and he had these bullet points in front of him. The bullet points were topics from my act. He scanned it over and over and over, desperate to find something he thought was “funny.” I have a bit about moving in with my boyfriend and he picked up on that one and made me talk about it but he and his sidekick were focusing on the wrong part of the story, turning it into this dirty tale instead of it coming from my neurotic point of view. I am not even neurotic, I say neurotic lazily for lack of a better word.

When I was not cooperating because I was not sure if this was an interview, or just a chat or just a chance to panel my material, I was accused of being an “alternative” comic who doesn’t want to play along. There was so much aggression to this guy. His energy screamed, “Prove it. Prove it. Prove you’re funny.” And then when I was funny, the shock, the surprise.

I felt like how the Dems must feel in the Senate. “I’m trying to say something here and the absolute WRONG people are in charge!”

And of course! The music that took me out after the bit was over, “Girls” by the Beastie Boys. Don’t worry. I’m used to it. It’s the music they play me on and off to at the Hollywood Improv. If you don’t believe me, check out the video on my homepage here.
It’s my birthday on MONDAY. I will be taking the day off of work and I’ll be in Malibu because I think it’s a sin to work on your birthday, unless you are in the job of your dreams. I guess Myspace sends out notices that it’s my birthday because I’ve been getting a lot of birthday wishes. I’m a Virgo. And that means ungrateful and analytical. So I’ll ask. Why do people wish it now? My birthday is in 4 days. I don’t want an early birthday wish.

I spent 2 hours going to the post office. Was it in San Francisco you ask? No, silly. Just 4 miles from where I work. My mom sent me a package and the postman decided that against his instruction he’d NOT leave the package at the door but have me pick it up at a post office that is nowhere near where I live or work. I called various 1-800 #’s more than 6 times, each time a different answer about whether re-delivery was an option. “Sure!” “No!” “What is re-delivery?” “Ma’am, stop screaming.”

My mother reads my Myspace blog now. She asked me why some of them are marked Friends Only. I explain that I write about work sometimes or an ex-boyfriend of mine who is a beloved (?) person on the alt scene and I don’t really want everyone seeing it. She is convinced that it’s her. That I’m writing about things I wouldn’t want mothers to see.

I am 32, wait, not until 4 days. I am 31 years old. My mother can see whatever. She may not like it but she went looking. She asked if she needed a credit card to get on Myspace to be my friend. She seemed relieved that you didn’t but she doesn’t sign up for things. She has an irrational fear of her identity being stolen.

My parents told me when I was a kid that I was not allowed to have my Social Security card in my wallet. They said when you lose it, you lose it and you can never, ever, get another one. The government won’t allow it. And then your life becomes a living hell and you get addicted to drugs and eventually die under a bridge.

I have not had my Social Security card since I was a teenager. I have no idea where it is. This has been a problem lately with some acting gigs I’ve done. So I bit the bullet and went to ssa.gov and printed out the forms to obtain a new card. The forms need your parents soc sec #’s too to verify. I had to call my parents and ask them for their #’s. This was a nightmare as I never planned to tell them that I have not had my card for almost 20 years.

My mother was aghast. What forms? You are putting our social security numbers on the internet? “No, Mom. I PRINTED the forms from the internet. I am bringing them into the social security office.” Well, I’m asking your father because he knows about this. Ronnie! Does Jennifer need our social secrurity numbers if she lost her card? She’s putting it on the internet.

My dad got on the phone and said, “Your social security card is here in your files at home. Do you want it.”

I said, “I thought I lost it?”

And then I realized, as they say in therapy, “Old Tapes.” My parents have accused me of losing things my whole life. If I lose a cell phone, which I did ONCE, 6 years ago in New York City (that’s pretty good to only lose it once there) they will say, “You lose everything.” Technically, I didn’t lose it. The person that found it, called my parents, (thanks a lot) and shocked them. They were convinced I was murdered and wouldn’t get a hold of themselves to listen to this man say, “I have her cell phone. It was in a cab.” I got the phone back. So really, I just, “didn’t have it on me for a while.”

Anyway, the Soc Sec card is on the way. I didn’t need my parents social security numbers after all. Nothing was posted on the internet. My mom will read this and she won’t need to use her credit card.

Oh! And the other people that worked at the radio station were quite lovely and I think realize what they’re up against with their DJ.

And someone just called me and wants to come to my desk to talk. He didn’t say about what. He’s not in my department. This never happens when I’m not alone at work.

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