The man chosen to be the interim Premier of Iraq is a former member of Sadaam Hussein's Baath Party. If you think I'm going to comment on political implications of this decision, clearly you don't read my blog very often.

My question is this--doesn't Baath party sound like it would be the winning party in a sheep election?

Or, at the very least, the party that would always win if they decided to take the vote orally.

List of household tasks I hate in the order of how much I hate them:

1) Dishes -- I hate dishes the most. And yes, I realize that doing dishes would be easy if I just did them right away, before the food is all stuck-on and yucky and not at all reminiscent of the joyful, wonderous food that it once was. But I do not do that. Instead I wait until the food has turned into a living-breathing dish-hugging species. And THEN I try to wash them. And it sucks something horrible. In fact, let's change this list to THINGS I WOULD RATHER DO THAN WASH DISHES:

a) Get a paper cut
b) Eat glue (Elmer's, not Super)
c) Listen to Radio Disney for two hours
d) Discuss whether or not I have "found Jesus"
e) Watch an episode of "Who Wants to Marry My Dad"
f) Stand in line behind someone who is paying for her groceries in nickels


I could go on.

I know that it is time, yet again, to do my dishes, because today I actually had to drink Coke out of a measuring cup.

A LETTER TO THE PERSON WHO BROKE INTO MY CAR AND STOLE MY GREAT-GRANDFATHER'S SAXOPHONE LAST WEEK

Dear Todd--

(I don't know if your name is Todd. Probably not. But there's another guy that really irritates me named Todd. So I feel that things would be better if I could put all my anger into just that one name.)

I know you probably don't read my blog. That would be too weird of a coincidence. Besides, I don't WANT you reading my blog. You're a thief. So you'd probably steal all my jokes. And not only that but, judging by the (much pricier) stuff you LEFT in my car, you're not even a very good thief. So you'd probably steal the really crappy jokes.

Anyway, Todd, here is a list of things I hope happen to you as revenge for your thievery:

1) I hope you have to listen to my 83 year old neighbor, Trudy, talk about her physical ailments for a minimum of four hours.

2) I hope you have to stand outside of a comedy club and pass out fliers whilst dozens of creepy men wink at you and attempt to ask you out, but you still have to be nice to them on the off chance they come to the show. And I hope there's some crazy guy there every week who thinks you're his wife and tries to kiss you and make you come home with him.

3) I hope you forget to check the expiration date on the milk in your refrigerator and take a big drink of it before you realize it's rotten.

4) Pop-up ads. I hope your life is filled with them. And junk mail. And telemarketers. I hope you get 273 calls a day asking you to change your phone company. AND I hope they mispronounce your name. I hope the 'Do-Not-Call' legislation does not apply to you.

5) I hope your friends show up 20 minutes late for everything and you're stuck waiting around in the rain. Umbrella-less, to boot.

AND I hope that all of these things happen to you on the same day. Only THEN will you understand the kind of day I was having when I left the comedy club at 2am only to find that YOU had broken my car window and stolen my stuff.

Screw you.

Kisses,

Jill

It's been rather a crummy week. My car was broken into and all has been a big mess. I'm leaving for the weekend to do shows upstate so I shan't write in my blog till I get back. At which point I shall be in a much better mood.

In the meantime, what a good excuse to read the archives!

Ooooh, and I promise when I get back I'll do something about this ugly background too.

I always warn people that I'm a very messy person before they come to my apartment. But, somehow, no matter how much I warn them, they seem astonished when they enter.

They say silly things like, "Is it really a GOOD idea to have shards of broken glass on your floor?"

"Of course it is," I reply, "Just so long as you know exactly where the shards of glass are. Because then if you ever NEED shards of glass, you know exactly where to go. Same thing for old, leftover Chinese food. Because how much would it suck if you found that you desperately NEEDED old, rotten Chinese food, but you had thrown it away? Not a problem for me."

It's an intricate filing system, but I think I can handle it.

(I feel that this piece of writing isn't quite as funny as it could be. But perhaps BEING FUNNY is too tight a constraint for me at this particular time. After all, you must be thinking, if Jill spent all her time BEING FUNNY, she would not have time to remember where, precisely, the shards of glass were on her floor. And that would be a travesty for both Jill and her feet. Hmmmmm....I was planning on going somewhere with this paranthetical, but I forget exactly where. Something about ducks, maybe.....)

Upcoming shows:

Monday, May 17th
Boston Comedy Club
3rd street btw. Thompson and Sullivan, NYC
9:30 show (I'll go on late)
$5 cover, 1 drink minimum (free cover with student ID)

Thursday-Saturday, May 20-22
Funny Farm
Broadalbin, New York
(Ok, so I don't know how much this show costs or anything. But I figure that, if you live in Broadalbin, odds are you already know this. You probably have spent many a happy weekend at the Funny Farm already. But if you really need more information, email me and I'll find out.)

Alas, I can't get to sleep tonight. I am told, repeatedly, that the cure for this is to count sheep.

Counting sheep is supposed to make you go to sleep because it’s boring. Just a bunch of sheep jumping over a fence. Terribly uninteresting, really.

Except not.

Because, no matter what I do, my sheep always end up becoming quite interesting. I try to keep them boring, I really do. But frankly, I'm stuck with fascinating sheep. There's no getting around it.

Sure the first few will just bound along and hop merrily over the fence as all good sheep do (well, not really. Because, quite honestly, when have we seen a sheep jump over a fence? Or jump at all really? My guess is never. Not even if you train them and offer them exciting incentives like free cake or a 401K plan. Sheep are really quite stationary. And I feel that I am an authority on this in that I have lived in Idaho. A state where sheep are quite prominent, really. Along with potatoes. Potatoes and sheep---two things in Idaho that don't like to jump. Now horses, they jump. This is why they have horse jumping competitions and no sheep jumping competitions at all. At least none that I’ve ever seen. Not even in Idaho. Which has lots of sheep. But I digress....)

Anyway, my first few sheep do what they’re supposed to. They jump over the fence and bore me like nobody’s business. But, invariably, just as I’m dozing off, one of the sheep will mess up. Miss the fence, or trip, or something of the like. And then it’s like an episode of “America’s Funniest Home Videos” (as an aside, didn’t that used to be a good show? Did the show get crappier or did I just get older? Maybe men getting hit in the crotch with things isn’t as funny as it used to be when I was 11). The line of sheep gets messed up, wool is flying everywhere, and I’m awake again.

Failed at yet another attempt at counting sheep.

Good night.

List of things that aren't funny when it's 5:30am and I've been typing for many many hours straight:

1) Everything I think of to write in my blog.
2) Everything else.

I would tell you what it is that I've been typing for the past billion and four hours but, frankly, that would make this post even more boring than it already is.

Not possible, you say? Trust me on this one.

There are birds singing outside my window and I, for one, am going to bed. So there.

I dreamt last night that I entered a stand-up comedy contest but, immediately after I performed my comedy routine, I was informed that I had been disqualified from the competition.

When I asked the judge why I had been disqualified, he replied, "Well Jill, it was because you didn't tell any jokes."

Jeez...even my subconscious doesn't like my comedy this week.

Ok, so I'm tired and I'm grouchy and I stood out in the rain for too many hours passing out fliers before doing a comedy set for like seven people. So tonight you guys are getting something from the archives.

Cheers.

I think it was probably easier for teenage guys to get sex in the Middle Ages. You know, like a guy and a girl are getting hot and heavy and she's like, "no, I'm just not ready." And he's like, "C'mon, I can't just stop you know." And she's like, "Well, I'm just not sure." And he's like, "I love you." And she's like, "You do?" And he's like, "Yeah, are you ready NOW?" And she's like, "No, I don't think so." And he's like, "They sacrifice virgins, you know." And she's like, " Yeah, I think I'm ready now." I mean that's gotta be pretty convincing.

Do the female suicide bombers get 72 virgins too? Because if I were looking for 72 male virgins, I don’t think I’d have to go to heaven to find them.

I could just go to a Star Trek convention.

Shows this week:

Monday, May 10
9:30pm show
Boston Comedy Club
82 W. 3rd Street (btw. Thompson and Sullivan)
$5 cover, 1 drink minimum (free with a student ID)

Tuesday, May 11
8pm show
"Chicks and Giggles Show"
Laugh Lounge
151 Essex Street
$8 cover, 2 drink minimum

Wednesday, May 12
9pm show
New York Comedy Club
241 East 24th Street (btw. 2nd and 3rd ave.)
$8 cover, 2 drink minimum

Come see me. Or send me hilariously funny vibes from wherever you might be.

I like the game Clue because I enjoy the insight into how a murder investigation works:

Detective: Well, we're pretty sure someone's dead.

We don't know who it is, how they died, or where the body is.

Here's the plan. We'll make wild guesses for a while and then, if all else fails, we'll open this envelope that has all the answers.

Luckily all the suspects are named after colors, so I think that should be a big help.

Now, go to it men.

I've come up with my own idea to combat terrorism.

They should show better movies on airplanes.

I think that if they showed really good movies on airplanes, then the terrorists might get so into the MOVIE that they forget to blow up the PLANE.

It's the old bait and hook.

Or is it bait and switch?

Or hook and swim. Or the old switcheroo.

One of these things is exactly what it is.

Smokers are weird.

They're always trying to 'bum' cigarettes from one another. Smokers will walk up to complete strangers on the street and say, "Hey, I noticed you're smoking. Can I bum a cigarette?" And miraculously, that person will give them a cigarette. No questions asked.

Even homeless people have it harder than that when they ask for money. They have to make signs and dress badly and promise not to buy drugs. People don't hand over their quarter unless they know it's being put to good use. But with cigarettes? "Sure, take it! Cigarettes for everyone, on the house!"

I wish we could bum other stuff. Like, "Hey, I notice you smell good Could I bum some deodorant?"

I think it would make my life a lot easier.

I think a good spin-off for the show "Everybody Loves Ramond" would be a charming sitcom entitled, "Everybody Loves Ramen."

Each of the characters would symbolize a type of ramen. There would be a tough bodybuilder (beef ramen), an angry Chinese man (Oriental ramen), and a midget (shrimp ramen.)

Much laughter would ensue.

Yes, I am a big dork.

Because of my habit of falling for and/or dating gay men, people have suggested that I might not have a very good "gaydar."

In reality, I have a spectacular gaydar. Foolproof, really. When I meet a guy, I can tell almost immediately whether or not he is gay. It works like this:

If I fall for him, he's gay.

Hasn't failed me yet.