Evolution of Tastiness

Dear McDonalds,
In about five years, nobody will want McGriddles anymore because of a classic culinary combination adopted by your rivals that will sweep the nation. Fried chicken and waffles. Fortunately, I have a plan to maintain the integrity of your delicious breakfast while riding the trend train: the nuggets and flapjacks basket. You will call them Breakfast Bites, and they will sell for $3.69.

I know you're not a Basket Restaurant, but a cardboard box can be transformed into one if holes are cut in a lattice pattern on the lid. You stamp M's on the miniature pancakes, the nuggets stay the same, and you have delivered to the public the new best friend they never knew they wanted. Syrup dipping sauce will come on the side. I am sure that you will be glad to include my likeness (wearing a chef's hat) in the advertisements.

Sincerely,
Abbi Crutchfield

We're All Old

I recently performed in a show that had the laughs in the right places but an overall sense of "Huh?" from the audience. This could be because I was not on my A-game that night, or it could be attributed to the fact that a lot of the crowd was young and male. If I were a college comic the room would have rocked with hoots and spilled beer. But instead, the candles on the tables flickered periodically from chuckles, and I was unsure of whether my Alan Thicke references would be properly savored.

Dear youthful crowd,
I don't want to let an age gap between us intimidate me because no matter who you are, there is someone younger than you. You know how you think you're awesome because you scored a fake id? Try to rock a pair of Heely's. Hear that? It's the sound of your youth whizzing by.

If you don't think you're old yet you will. It happens by accident. Your eyes trail from the comics to the electronics ads. Then they see a picture of a politician. Then they read the article! You think,Stop. Go back to reading the comics. Sigh, these jokes are so...unfulfilling. Wait, I mean they suck. Yeah. These comics suck. Hey, what's this? Today's Family Circus is so...touching. You're not the loudest on the subway anymore. Then someone calls you Sir, and you laugh, and they're serious. Your parents don't even have to have gray hair yet or stop paying for your loans for the transition to happen.

So just live life and try not to regret how old you are or how lame the older girl on stage is when she says, "Who's watchin' the Antiques Road Show here? I see ya! I see ya!"

LYLAS,
Abbi

Page-ing All Losers

There are many ways to monitor fame. Some people think that if you are on the World Wide Web, your star is rising. I Googled my name, and it turns out there are 636 pages yielding information. Only the first four actually talk about me. Four divided by Six hundred thirty-six is Point-oh-oh-six(4 ÷ 636 = .006). Conclusion: Less than one percent of what you read on the Internet is true.

Goo But Not Forgotten

There is a debate over whether or not it was appropriate to televise the open casket of James Brown during the viewing at the Apollo Theater. Maybe I am desensitized by the countless figures displayed at Mme. Tussaud’s Wax Museum, but that was the last thing I found disturbing about the wake. The funeral procession, for example, had a lot of potential. With a horse-drawn carriage and thousands of viewers, I expected eyes welled up with tears and Elton John’s voice to waft over the crowd, “Good bye Jimmy Brown…” But there were no bowed heads. Instead the crowd was cheering! Were they glad to see him go? He owed that many people money? Maybe he was a tyrannical dictator. Only his assistant knows for sure. “And it seemed to me you lived your life like a paper bag of gin. Dry and crinkly, full of liquor, with a crazy spin…”

Cut to his arrival at the theater where people are comfortably squatting in lawn chairs like for one of his concerts. “He always makes me wait like this. But it’s worth it to be near him. I’m gonna ask him to sign my velvet portrait when he’s done.” How about Professional Casket Guard Reverend Al Sharpton who was babysitting the stage like a watchful club bouncer? Maybe he just wanted to see what happens to his hair when he’s sleeping. I’ll admit, seeing James Brown lay still is unsettling, but is there anything creepier than his mug shots over the years? That is a plastic terror I will never forget. Why he was dressed like a 1940s bell hop is beyond me, but maybe it was a clause in the first contract he ever signed. The icing on the cake was that the sign next to the body had a soft, rounded, capital D, celebrating “THE GOO FATHER”. The Goo Father of Soup, ladies and gentlemen. Raise a spoon.

Perks

These are the timeless treasures to be had if you win--okay you don't even place--on the Poetry Vs. Comedy show in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Silly string! Care to watch "Big", anyone? Let's shoot this at each other, but be careful not to get it anywhere near the eyes, nose or mouth, and then promptly remove it from our clothes so as to minimize the drycleaning bill, and then break out the 409 and Bounty so our landlord won't charge us for the stain on the walls. FUN!! Okay who wants to spray first? My knee-cap region should be appropriate. This is old denim.

Extra! Extra! Read All About It!

That's my face in BUST magazine! This is the first time I've ever appeared in a publication with glossy pages. I'm so excited!

BUST is a magazine with an agenda to showcase the lives of today's women.

The show that the article highlights is a one of a kind, all-female comedy hour in New York called Chicks and Giggles founded by cupcake-lovin' co-producer Nichelle Stephens and hosted by the bilingual and all-funny co-producer Carolyn Castiglia.

I heard about the show through my fellow GU alumn and comedian Jaqueline Novak, and the article includes a joke by the multi-tasking comedy writer Giulia Rozzi co-creator and host of Stripped Stories.

Go out and buy a copy tonight because when I'm huge, this photo will be worth something and often refered to as "An early shot of Abbi".

This Goes Out to All the Guys in the Bushes

On the road to comedy success, it is wise to anticipate some of the hurdles before they happen. I am prepared for the public backlash when I adopt a tribe of Eskimos, and Time magazine labels me a “modern-day” Joshephine Baker (and later in the article a “stable” Angelina Jolie or a “talented” Madonna). I welcome the day when my bit is tired and my manager talks me into becoming The Face of adult diapers. I have already prepared my speech for the annual banquet of the ‘tween girls club that wears replicas of my signature Lazy Eye (that I haven’t made signature yet).

I’m friendly. I’m smiley. I’m irresistible. I say with all honesty that some day I am going to be stalked by an unattractive person wearing a sweat shirt.

And to you, Sir, I say PREPARE…TO…DIE.

I am not one to be easily intimidated by threats. I will bypass the restraining order and go straight to the machete purchase. In a world of celebrities who get disturbing letters from self-proclaimed fans like you, there are far too few who take the law into their own hands. I will cut up a magazine and glue together an equally sick response. I’m making them now. I have that kind of time. I don’t need a giant bodyguard to muscle you in a dark alley at night. I’ll have already put lye in your morning Starbucks.

It’s survival of the fittest, Looney. Indecisive, scrawny teenagers need not apply. You’d better only come at me if you have three names and Catcher in the Rye in your pocket. You see, your strength is your empty threat. My strength is born from a deep-seated fear from watching too many episodes of Unsolved Mysteries and Lifetime Original movies about drifters who hide in the attic. Coupled with a natural, cat-like quickness when it comes to self-defense (I duck whenever I hear a balloon pop), you don’t stand a chance.

Costume Battle of the Sexes

Women have often been criticized for their talent of turning mundane Halloween duds into a more tantalizing costume. Why be a cop when you can undo the top two buttons and be Sexy Cop? Why be a chef when you can wear fishnet stockings and be Sexy Chef? It doesn't stop at uniforms. I've seen girls transform religious figures (Hot Nun), cuddly animals (Playboy Bunny), and even inanimate objects (A T-shirt with "Juicy" across the chest requires reading, and therefore makes the person wearing it a book. Sexy Book).

But let he without the first tacky Halloween idea cast the first stone! Some men take advantage of the night to dress up as women. Not famous women. Just women. That's not a costume! That's indulging in a secret desire to see how the other half lives. "Wow, I don't know how you girls do it..." Well, we don't do it daily in bright red lipstick and frizzy wigs, Chuckles, but thanks for the sympathy. Honk honk. Other men insist on costumes affirming their sexuality. A pickle barrel with a hole in the crotch. A desk with a lamp shade ("I'm one NIGHT STAND,") or a shirt with a sign that says, "Free Rides" and points to the face.

Let's not limit this discussion to heteros. What about drag queens? Talk about a night of shameless sparkle. They take advantage of the night to flutter extra-long lashes and six foot-high feather headdresses that would normally happen and stay in Vegas.

I'm also putting the spotlight on the nerds, perverts, and technologically savvy convicted felons. This is their night to find a large avenue, unveil their video camera, and tape publicly! Any other night they would be harrassed by 60 Minutes and shamed into signing a release form.

Even little boys make bizarre selections for costumes when left to their own devices. My 5 year old neighbor said he was going as a "Maniac Prince". What is that, exactly? I went trick-or-treating with a kid who was Alex Trebek Electrocuted in a Blender. That's not even possible!


Allow me to set the bar this year with a costume that no one can judge. I'm going as a bagel and cream cheese. No one will accuse me of twisting that around. Bread is not sexy!!



Happy Halloween!

PS: I found this by Googling "Bagel Costume".

Black Like Me

It is hard to know what to think about Angelina Jolie, who for all intents and purposes is presumably white, playing widow Marianne Pearl who, according to page 17 of today's Metro, is not black but really biracial, in a movie. The role did not go to Thandie “Sally Hemmings” Newton or Halle “Queen” Berry.

Should she be allowed or shouldn't she? Is it believable that a white woman could convincingly play a biracial woman?

According to my childhood, YES. If you polled the black kids at School #91 in Indianapolis in 1987, they would unanimously agree that I wear white girl shoes. If you interviewed the young ladies in my Home Ec. class at Shortridge Middle School in 1994, and asked why I think I'm soooo smart, they would say, "That's just cuz she talks white." If you asked the all-white Christian campers in 1997 why I continually sway off-beat to the hymnals they would be perplexed and say, "We don't know. We thought she was black. I guess we were WRONG. Hahahahaha!"

All of these case studies, thanks to the invention of the Time Machine on March 24, 3040, conclude that both black and white races classify me as white. But I don't FEEL white. And identity is about how you feel! Trans-gendered people, help me out.

Clinging faithfully to the antiquated and unscientific One Drop Policy, I have always claimed Black on survey sheets and joined Black Student Associations throughout my education. In high school I insisted on reading the "On This Day in Our History" announcements during Black History month. Why? Am I stubborn? Am I greedy for acceptance? No. I'm Black.

Sometimes people affirm my blackness without me prompting them to. As a drunk, white frat boy in college once confided, "I think Tyra Banks is UGLY. Oh...no offense, Abbi". Offense proudly taken, Racist.

The fact that the Metro feels the need to clarify that a biracial woman is not black explains a lot. Anyone who has had to pick out his "good hair" so it looks like an Afro and so the black kids won't tease him knows that. Anyone who feels like she has to "axe" a question at Popeye's when she orders knows it too. Let me be black the stereotypically white way I’m black, and I’ll let you pretend you know French when you order Oh Grotten potatoes.


If anything, the reason the public should be reeling by the Thandie-Angelina switch is the same reason kids roll their eyes at high school play auditions. All good roles go to the Seniors. Forrest Whitaker has been in the game a long time, so when it's time for someone to play Idi Amin, he’s the one who wears shoe polish to get Africa dark. End of discussion!

Before we get outraged as a country over this injustice to Ms. Newton and Ms. Berry, let’s remember two things: 1) Marianne Pearl is not a slave. 2) She’s not a superhero who controls the wind. She is a REAL person whose suffering requires the ilk of a woman who has not just simulated having relations with the mangy Billy Bob Thornton, but who ACTUALLY HAS (dry heave) had relations with (dry heave) Billy Bob Thornton.

Sign This Off

Cbsnews.com is launching the CBS Evening News with Katie Couric by asking fans to suggest a new Sign-Off message for Couric as she ends the program. The idea for the national poll came from the journalist herself when she realized she could not stop saying, "I'm Katie Couric, and I poop gold." I came up with a few ideas.

1. "Happy rainbow dreams and sunshine kisses to you ALL!"

2. "Have a good one. I'm having sixty million."

3. "Good night and good luck...filling size four shoes, Vieira!!"

4. "Thank you for watching the evening news. Feels good to be here. I realize most of my viewers now have Alzheimer's so...thank you for watching the evening news. Feels good to be here."

5. "Good night, meal tickets!"

6. "Ugh. That stuff was SO depressing! Let's all have champagne and a good bubble bath."

7. "It's time for me to go, and it's time for your nurse to change your diaper."

8. "Have a pleasant evening. Battery running low. Must locate outlet to recharge."

9. "I'm Katie Couric, and I don't *&!# on a ^*&$@ as the city bus graffiti suggests."

10. "Good night! Smile. Shuffle papers. Look to left. Katie, stop reading."