“I’m really surprised you like the movie Anchorman,” my friend said, raising their eyebrows at me once more while I proclaim that I do, indeed, love lamp. “It’s not a very feminist film.”
As a woman who wants to one day write for comedy, takes comedy seriously, and is an avid fan of comedy TV shows, films, and movies, I’m often told I can’t be a feminist and be funny. “Humor writing is a guys’ world,” people are constantly emphasizing. “You’ve gotta learn to think like a guy.”
Look. I’m well aware that dudes dominate the comedy scene and that I’m fighting a bit of an uphill battle. But does that mean that I’m unable to have a sense of humor?
I am sitting in a gynecologist’s waiting room next to my mother. It’s the first time I’ve ever been to one, and I don’t feel very welcome. Pregnant women and other patients all sit quietly, reading their magazines. Or pretending to. Every few moments, they look up from their reading material to give me a disapproving glance. I shift uncomfortably. I can tell they are judging me, and my mother too, for bringing me there.
Maybe I should tell you how I got there.
I got my first kiss a few weeks before I turned 16. I got my first serious boyfriend as well. It wasn’t that I’d never been asked out, just that I never really cared enough to take anyone up on the offer. I preferred reading to …
The media would like you to believe that every time you log on to Facebook or – god forbid – the evil black hole of narcissism that is Twitter, another nail is inserted into the coffin of your general ability to function as a capable, well-rounded human being. Every time you update your status, every uploaded picture taken of yourself on your macbook, every “100 Things You Didn’t Know About Me!” note you write, a modicum of self-awareness and empathy seeps from your pores. Essentially, the social networking sites that virtually our entire generation frequently uses are turning us into self-obsessed, unfeeling robots who will contribute nothing of worth to society.
Now, I don’t know that this is entirely true. But if I see one more teaser for the 11:00 …
Annie Erin Clark (born September 28, 1982) is an American multi-instrumentalist singer-songwriter who performs under the moniker St. Vincent. She was a member of The Polyphonic Spree and Sufjan Stevens’ touring band.
Clark has opened shows for such acts as The National, Television, Arcade Fire, Briertone, Andrew Bird, Jolie Holland, John Vanderslice, Midlake, Tracy + the Plastics, Tuck & Patti, Xiu Xiu, Death Cab for Cutie, Cristina Donà and Grizzly Bear.
Annie Clark was born in Tulsa, Oklahoma. She began playing the guitar at the age of 12 and, as a teenager, worked as the tour manager for her uncle’s band Tuck & Patti. She grew up in Dallas and attended Lake Highlands High School, graduating in 2001. Following this, she went on to attend Berklee College of Music, before …
The best way to start the new year that I know how (especially in light of all of those dieting resolutions): Ken & Barbie 101 by Rafael Casal. I’ve posted this before, but it’s definitely worth posting again.
