Overheard as I'm walking into the comedy club:

Woman on Cell Phone: Hi, I'm in line at your club. I was just wondering...what exactly am I in line for?

In case you haven't heard, a very exciting scientific discovery was made recently.

Scientists actually took the eggs from two female mice and combined them in a fascinatingly scientific sort of way, and came out with a REAL LIVE BABY MOUSE. Without using any male mice at all.

Now I feel sure that you recognize the implications of this world-changing experiment.

Yes, perhaps one day, two lesbians--without the aid of any man--could have their very own baby mouse.

Ain't science grand?

I live in the town of Pelham, New York.

Pelham is located about five miles outside of the Bronx yet, amazingly, the citizens have managed to convince themselves that they live in a little village in the country.

Pelham has cute little cobblestone streets and adorable little houses. People smile and wave at each other on the street. There is even a "Bait and Tackle" shop about three blocks from my house.

I think this is nice, because it reminds me of my home in Custer, South Dakota.

Well, except in South Dakota it would be "Bait, Tackle, and Fudge."

I think there's kind of a Catch-22 with guns and gun control.

I think the mere fact of wanting to own lots of weapons is enough for me to think that perhaps you shouldn't. For example, I think that members of the NRA are, ironically, the people I would least trust with weapons. They just seem far too excited about them.

If it was like members of the Peace Corps that wanted weapons....well, I'd at least consider it.

Or if the contestants of 'American Idol' wanted weapons. They seem pretty happy.

Although, I think there would be far fewer bad singers on 'American Idol' if, at the end of every episode, the loser got shot. And boy would the ratings skyrocket.

Today I'd like to discuss a very serious issue. An issue that many are afraid to broach--but not Jill "Damn the Torpedos" Twiss. That issue is.....

Making Out.

A controversial topic, I know. A topic that needs to be treated with delicacy and discretion. Fear not, I've really thought this through. What I want to know is this:

When you're making out for an extended period of time, where does the saliva go?

I mean, you start out with plenty of saliva and, one would assume, so does your partner. Yet, at the end the saliva is all gone. No one has any. Mouths are dry. Desert-like, even. Where did the saliva go? There was no drooling going on (or very little). I did not see the saliva leaving the premises. But it has disappeared. Never to be seen again.

Now, as physics dictates, matter can not be created or destroyed. So the saliva cannot just disappear. It clearly goes somewhere. But where?

I feel this is a mystery that must be solved. And NOW.

(This post was not written by Jill. Oh no, she would never write a post with no punchline at all. Instead, it was written by her evil twin.....Phil. So if you don't like it, you'll have to contend with Phil. And frankly, he's pretty evil.)

Upcoming shows:

Thursday (today), April 22nd
Boston Comedy Club
82 West 3rd Street (between Thompson and Sullivan)
10(ish)pm show--I'll go on LATE
$8 cover, free for ladies, one drink minimum

Monday, April 26th
Boston Comedy Club
9-ish pm show---I'll go on LATE
$5 cover, free with student ID, one drink minimum

Come see me. I will be funny just for YOU.

I'm opening another show tomorrow morning and just spent hours in tech/dress rehearsal instead of writing. So tonight you're getting another joke from the archives. This one still makes me giggle.

Oh, for those of you that are wondering, I moved up the food chain from playing a carrot to playing a rabbit. The velveteen rabbit, to boot.

My 10th grade English teacher said I had to use "perpetuate" in a sentence.

I said,

"The pet store owner said 'I'm going to charge you $5 perpetuate.'"

My teacher never called on me again.

I was invited to join a gang the other day (I swear I'm really really not making this up.) They said:

If you hang out with us, we'll protect you.

I said,

If I don't hang out with you, no one wants to kill me.

They couldn't argue with that.

I was working at the comedy club on Saturday night when this charming woman came to talk to me. And by charming, in this particular instance, I mean "painfully annoying."

She had a problem with the club's "secret policy" of making you buy two drinks during the show. This was a "secret policy" because, apparently, they only put "TWO DRINK MINIMUM" on two signs inside the club, a sign on the door of the club, on the tickets she used to get into the club, and announced it while she entered the club. They did not, as she would have apparently preferred, tattoo it to her forehead or spell it out in flaming letters on the stage.

Anyway, her argument against the two-drink minimum was as follows:

"But I'm only ONE person. How could I have TWO drinks when I'm only ONE person."

Now the first seven-hundred sixty-four times she said this to me, it sounded like a pretty crappy argument.

But by time number seven-hundred sixty-five, she started to sell me. I actually found myself thinking,

"Yeah, you ARE only one person. God, this policy is RIDICULOUS. What the hell is WRONG with this club?"

So what I've learned is that, apparently, I'll buy anything if you say it to me repeatedly for a long enough period.


On a completely unrelated note, I'm really starting to think there ARE weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.

A joke I heard on the radio today:

What kind of coffee did they drink on the Titanic?

Sanka.

OK, I know what you're thinking. Why, for the love of God, are you writing jokes that you heard on the radio and not writing your own jokes? Are you not a stand-up comedian? Are you not a comedy writer? And, most importantly, if you're going to steal jokes, couldn't you steal a better one than that? What is your problem, Jill?

The answer to those questions is this: I'm not funny tonight.

I'll admit it. Not even a little bit funny. If you'll notice, I wasn't really very funny last night either. It's been going downhill for a week or so. But I'm thinking it's distinctly possible that I'll be funny tomorrow. Or possibly a week from Tuesday. Or the year 2036.

I think what I need is a guest columnist. To come in when I'm feeling not-so-funny (much like the not-so-fresh feeling that they're always talking about on TV, but less icky.) If you want to be my guest columnist, let me know. Send me a sample guest column. If it's really really good then I might choose you to be the guest columnist.

More likely, though, I'll just steal the column and pass it off as my own.

Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to another episode of What I Said vs. What I Wanted to Say. The wildly popular show in which Jill shares real-life situations in which she restrained herself from being as rude as she wanted to.


The Situation: I'm talking to a father and son outside a comedy club, hoping to convince them to go to the show that night. The father is constantly bragging about the brilliance of the slightly dorky high-school-age son.

Son: blah blah blah, and he was very elusive.

Father: See, look at that! See how smart my son is? What kind of junior in high school uses words like 'elusive'?

What I Said: Not very many, that's for sure. He must be very smart.

What I Wanted to Say: Probably the kind that plays the viola and has a pet rat named Einstein and plays Dungeons and Dragons in his basement. Not the kind that has friends, that's for sure.

Why is it that the crappier the movie, the more likely it is to get a sequel?

T-Mobile, my illustrious cell phone company, has come up with a new slogan:

T-Mobile--Get more from life

Thus, I suppose, implying that using T-Mobile as your cell phone provider will help you, the customer, get more from life (as opposed to the actual cell phones getting more from life, which seems like an unlikely interpretation of the slogan.)

Either way, I do not feel that this is exactly the right slogan to convey how T-Mobile affects my life. Thusly, I have written my own slogan that I feel more appropriately tells the public about the joy of T-Mobile:

T-Mobile--The perfect cell phone if you never want to talk whilst inside a building, or under an awning, or when anyone else is using a cell phone within a 50 mile radius

It's long, I know. But I feel like it caters to a very specific market that is rarely targeted by cell phone ads.

If you work at T-Mobile you can feel free to use this slogan in your next campaign. I need no payment. Just truth in advertising will be enough.

I spent this past weekend at a temp job logging video footage of Aerosmith for an A&E (or VH1 or TNT or one of those cable channels that I don't get) special. Basically cameras followed Aerosmith around during their tour for a couple of weeks. I watched dozens of hours of that footage.

I now know more about Aerosmith than I ever wanted to know. Ever.

Facts that I now know about Aerosmith:
1) Tom (the bass player) used to be able to make rude noises with his armpit but ever since he grew hair there, he no longer can.

2) He can, however, make similar rude noises with his hands.

3) Their new album, 'Honkin' with Bobo,' is eluding to an old slang term for playing the saxophone. Not what you with the dirty mind is probably thinking it's eluding to.

4) The band knows all know the words to the theme song to The Patty Duke Show

5) Joey's (the drummer) favorite lyric is "Patty loves to rock and roll. A hot dog makes her lose control."

I wish I liked Aerosmith more. Because I'm already more than halfway to being a really skilled stalker.

A woman came up to me after my show last weekend and said, "You know, you should take a job on a sitcom. Have you thought about being on a sitcom? You should do that instead of children's theatre."

As if I have, up until this point, been turning down dozens upon dozens of sitcom offers because I would much rather maintain my position playing a carrot in "Peter Cottontail" (the musical!).

But, because of her astute comment, I now realize the error of my ways.

So I'll just say it here and now: the next sitcom offer that comes along, I'm just going to TAKE it. I am (well, unless that sitcom is "Whoopi," in which case I may stick the the slightly better written "Peter Cottontail), . Sure I'll miss the fringe benefits of children's theatre like low pay, no health insurance, and costumes that smell like urine. But I'm willing to give that up for the greater good.

So for those sitcom producers who were sitting at home, wondering how their network could possibly go on without a Jill Twiss sitcom, feel free to call. I'm considering all offers.

I don’t get cable and the network stations don’t come in on my tv.

But, for some random yet exciting reason, I get (alternately, and on the same channel) The Hispanic Network and the The Gay and Lesbian Network. Neither of which interests me greatly. Although every so often I will watch a show or two in Spanish in hopes that I might pick up the language. I’m very optimistic like that.

I'm thinking there's probably some gay Hispanic man in my neighborhood who's getting the White South Dakotan Comedy Network.

I only hope he appreciates it.

Interestingly, American Idol Perfume smells exactly like you would expect American Idol Perfume to smell.

Sort of like cotton candy mixed with just a little bit of vomit.

Just thought you should know.

At my show last night there was a girl in the audience that had a cute little pink and white sparkly purse. And on that purse, embossed in cute little pink and white sparkly letters, it said, ‘FUCK YOU.’ It was a little disconcerting to see such a pretty, happy, sparkly purse with such a rude message.

I just spent the last three days at three different doctors. Without going into too much detail, suffice it to say that they put dozens of metal instruments into places in my body where, in my opinion, metal instruments should never go. Not even if you’re Mormon.

Today, I think I understand that purse. Because, if you just glance at me, I look as cute and perky and joyful as ever. But look a little closer. If you look real hard, you can just make out the "FUCK YOU" in pink and white sparkly letters. Said with a smile, but said nevertheless.

Mom, I'm sorry you had to read this. But I'm very grouchy tonight.

And no, I don't know what I meant about the Mormons either.

How come a doctor says,

"This won't hurt a bit,"

when what he really means is,

"Brace yourself"?

Here's a link to a picture of me playing the carrot. Just in case you thought I was making it up.



http://actingman.fateback.com/peter/DSCF0261.html

I like to think of the look on my face as "stern, but compassionate." Like if the mom carrot was going to give the baby carrot "a stern talking to", I think she would look like that.

And as for why the carrot, a vegetable that is said to improve eyesight, wears glasses? Well that's a question for the ages, my friends.

Also note the other giant carrot behind me in the picture. That one doesn't talk, sing, or dance.

It's time to announce the winners of my monthly(ish) VERY EXCITING CONTEST!

To recap, this contest asked my readers to create a slogan for the Jill Twiss comedy bumper sticker--an exciting piece of merchandise to be given out at comedy shows.

I'd like to say that decisions were difficult because everyone's entries were brilliant but, frankly, some of the entries didn't even make sense (person who entered with, "Have You Hugged Your Mormon Missionary Today?", this means you.)

I'm picking three winners and a bunch of honorable mentions. Because I want you lovely readers to get all the giggles that I did in reading the responses. And because it's my contest and I can pick all the winners I want. So there. The three winners will receive a VERY EXCITING PRIZE in the mail.

HONORABLE MENTION:
"Jill Twiss--Adhesive, Water Resistant, and Delicious Smelling for the Common Drug User" -Megan

"Death, Taxes, and Jill" -Mike

"You'll Feel Fresher When You've Had a Little Twiss" -Megan

"Jill Twiss--She's Sorry She's From South Dakota" -Tom

"Comedy with a Twiss" -Norman and Josh

"Jill--She Knows She Should Have Been a Stripper" -Alex

"Jill Twiss--Like Crack, But Cheaper and More Addictive" -Matt

"Funny? Hit Me and You'll See Who's Funny!" -T.J.

THIRD PLACE:

"Jill Twiss--Don't Hate Her Because She's Beautiful. Hate Her Because She's Funnier Than You."

--submitted by Medina


SECOND PLACE:

"Jill Twiss--The Anti-Drug"

--submitted by Matt


FIRST PLACE:

"Jill Twiss--Turning Men Gay Since 1989"

--submitted by Tom


Look out for the next VERY EXCITING CONTEST next month.

Still sick. Still playing a singing dancing carrot. Will write jokes soon. Really. Show closes Saturday.