Best Side

Muffy sees my best side. Even when I text her about my insecurities or rage, she sees only what I want to be. My glowing potential.

We were roommates in our second to last quarter of college. She called our room the tower because it was located at the corner of the top floor, with a peaked ceiling. It was a snowy winter, and we felt like ice princesses well before Frozen was a thing.

The school yearbook asked everyone to come by a booth at dinner for a few weeks to make sure everyone had a pic. And then they sent guerrilla photographer to nab photos of people who couldn't be bothered (me). It was nighttime. Maybe 8 PM when we heard a knock on our door. The girl said she was going to take a picture no matter what, so did I at least want to pose. I said I wanted a picture with Muffy. First we took a picture looking at each other and laughing. But I asked if we could switch sides of the bed because I was turning in and covering my good side. She said, "No, because this is my good side." She thought. "Let's both show our good sides," she concluded. We rearranged so I was facing the wall in profile and she was facing my back. She decided she would braid my hair, so it wasn't too weird. That ship had sailed for the yearbook girl, I'm sure. So, yeah, my senior picture yearbook photo is Muffy braiding my hair and both of us looking very smart about it.

Surreal Life

There's this big poster that hangs by the box office at The Theatre. It's pictures of the greats with some cheesy line like, "If you had taken class in 1990, these would have been your classmates!" It's a ploy for the suburban audiences to sign up for a level A Saturday morning class, but it's something that circulates around The Program.

A-Ro and I have fresh-squeezed orange juice brunch at the French bakery around the corner before her class on a Sunday. We were in an ensemble this August, and we'll probably know each other forever. I saw her sketch show a couple weeks ago, and she mine. We discuss, we question, we dream, and at some point we say, "It could be you on those posters."

I had an almond croissant.

Last night the cohort had a performance at the long theatre on top of the building. It was actually a great show. They can tend to be stiff and accidentally competitive. Last night was fun. My gang took the stage by dancing in a train into the spotlight. We played diamond salespeople who had an affinity for coal and hormone-crazed teens. The entire Program went out together--a first.

We went to this particular bar that is cash only and is decorated with a lot of lewd paintings. Aidy Bryant was in Chicago a month ago and Instagrammed from that bar. I recognized it instantly. It's a staple of comedy students. That SNL40 bonanza was on as we all mixed and milled and dissected our shows. We couldn't hear it, but we saw those people. Sandler, Wiig, Fallon, on and on. Half of the people so far away in NYC had sat where we all sat in the same grubby ale house. It was too surreal, and we all felt it. We took a group picture that was so unwieldy, the rest of the patrons watched us. Someone started the bit of congratulating each other on the shot, so we all seriously shook hands and nodded as if someone had just won the Nobel Prize. One day that picture will mean something. We just don't know for who.

Hilarious bit by Pinker: accidentally drinking a candle.