I did a show today for the 100th Anniversary of the Staten Island Ferry (I know, my career is just moving along smashingly, isn't it?)

I shall not go into the details of the joy of performing in a giant room where people are waiting to get on a Ferry.

Instead, I shall tell you about something far more important.

I got a gift bag. As a "thanks for performing for a bunch of people who aren't really interested in watching you," I got a gift bag.

So I thought you guys might be interested in what splendidly famous stars like me get in a gift bag.

1) A fan (really less of a fan than a paper plate on a popsicle stick) that says "CATCH OUR ACT! STATEN ISLAND MUSEUM."

2) An orange pencil that says, " STATEN ISLAND, NEW YORK CITY...WHERE THE FERRY IS FREE."

3) A pen that says "VERIZON"

4) A purple pig keychain that says "CITIBANK" (it's actually very cute.)

5) A magnet that says, "PLUMBING, HEATING, AND AIR CONDITIONING"

6) A magnet shaped like a little red man. I feel like it's advertising something, but I'm not sure what.

7) A chocolate bar that says "STATEN ISLAND CARE CENTER."

That's what I got. Don't be jealous. Someday you, like me, can be splendidly famous and receive gift bags of joy.

Ooooh, and happy changing your clocks day! For the first time in my life ever, I was actually early for something! Sparkle hands for me.

Today Lewis "Scooter" Libby, the chief of staff to Vice President Cheney, was indicted on charges of perjury and obstruction of justice.

This clearly has far-reaching implications for the country as a whole.

Namely this: shouldn't EVERYONE charged with a crime get a cute nickname? Because I think that would take a bit of the sting off the indictment.

Imagine the fun prison yard games when "Scooter" Libby could play with Timothy "Spanky" McVeigh, and Jeffrey "Poopy Pants" Dahmer

It would also make the trials a lot more fun to watch.

I've decided that I'm going to start carrying an English-As-A-Second-Language book around with me at all times.

When people see it, they shall be surprised. They shall say, "Wow Jill, I had no idea. Your English is really GOOD."

My English IS really good.

And I don't think a little thing like it being my native language should stop people from complimenting me on it.

So there.

Do you think the raw sewage flooding my apartment was just God's way of saying, "No more suicide bomber jokes, Jill."?

Just wondering.

Oh, also this. A word from our sponsor, per se: Portable GPS handheld.

Someday soon I shall be funny again. Maybe Arbor Day.

CRAPPY* THINGS THAT HAVE HAPPENED TO ME THIS WEEK

* This is a pun. You won't get it yet. But later you will. You probably won't laugh, though.

1) A tree branch the size of China fell on my car and shattered the back windshield into ouchy little pieces that will happily cut up your (and by "your," I mean "my") hands.

2) As a super-special added bonus, the rain that caused the tree branch the size of China to fall on my car also filled the back of my now-wide-open-car with tons of smelly rain water. Which, as a fascinating fact, turns terribly quickly into smelly mildew. It's science.

3) The very MINUTE I got the glass replaced on my car, the battery died. Frankly, I think it was jealous of all the attention the back of the car was getting. It was hoping for a "shout-out to the boyz in the hood."

I just don't know what I mean by that.

4) Just when I thought I had the car situation under control, I came home to find that raw sewage** had flooded my apartment. And if you don't enjoy the smell of mildew, I don't recommend raw sewage even a little bit. Raw sewage makes mildew smell like barrels of gingerbread.

Yup. Just like barrels of gingerbread.

** See? There's the pun. You get it? I told you you wouldn't laugh. I commend your good taste.

Ok, that's really all the bad things.

But if one more person tells me, "It could be worse," I shall make them eat their own hair.

Yes, it could be worse. I know there are starving children in Africa, and women who have no civil rights in China, and people who are forced to listen to Britney Spears songs 24 hours a day in Alabama.

I admit that it could be worse.

But it could also be better. MUCH better.

Better how? Here's a thought: NO FREAKIN' RAW SEWAGE in my apartment. That's a way that it could be better. Maybe a car that actually drives me places and doesn't smell like something died in it. THAT would make it better.

Ok, I recognize that complaining is only interesting for so long. So I'm done.

Besides, the week's not over. It's possible that something worse than raw sewage could be in store for me.

Britney Spears, here I come.

I'm such an optimist.

Sometimes I fall asleep with my contacts still in and when I wake up and can see clearly, for a split second I think there might have been a miracle.

Dear Large Tree,

In this difficult time, I shall endeavor to remember the following:

'Twasn't your fault. No matter what anyone says, you did your best to be strong and we both know it.

Don't blame yourself.

Also, I am sorry for your loss. I know it is difficult, but things will get easier in time.

You probably miss your giant branch almost as much as I miss my windshield. Maybe even more.

We shall mourn together.

Your pal,

Jill Twiss

IF you are attending my show tomorrow (and let's face it, you are,) then you should know the following:

There are three shows going on at the Laugh Factory at the same time, so you must tell them that you are going to see the show called Brooklyn Takes Manhattan.

Otherwise, you shall end up in a far less splendid show where I shan't be telling any jokes.

On a side note, I'm really not sure why I'm in a show entitled Brooklyn Takes Manhattan. I am not from Brooklyn. Nor do I have any intentions of taking Manhattan. I don't really even want Manhattan and would certainly not be willing to resort to thievery to acquire it. It's a little smelly for my tastes. Also tall. I prefer shorter cities.

But watch out for my next show: Jill Takes Chocolate Fountains.

THIS IS ME BLOGGING ABOUT THE UNDERGROUND COMEDY FESTIVAL

You asked for it.

"Tell us about the Underground Comedy Festival" you begged.

"No no, " I said. "Blogging ABOUT comedy is boring. 'Tis better just to write comedy and let it stand for itself."

"But it can't be worse than your stupid gas station entry from the other night."

"That is a good point. Shut up."

"Pretty please with sugar and pink glitter and cute babies on top."

"Ok, fine. But if you complain that it's boring, I shall say 'Shut your mouths you little twerps. You asked for it.' And then I shall beat you with sticks of bamboo and take away your birthday."

So the first thing you should know about the New York City Underground Comedy Festival is that it's not even a little bit underground. In fact, for MY show, you had to go up two stairs and a ramp.

False advertising from the beginning and I don't think we should stand for it.

Additionally, if they're looking to change the name, they should also not call it the Handicapped Accessible Comedy Festival.

Oh dear, this is what you GET for asking me to blog about something a teensy bit serious. I'm useless. Totally useless. You should ask Connie Chung. She's very serious. I bet you could tickle her for hours and she wouldn't even laugh.

Let's try again:

I did two festival events yesterday.

The first was called the Carnival Comedy Challenge. That was where like 20 comedians went onstage and did three minutes of stand-up comedy in front of judges (no audience except the other comedians.) Then the judges picked the two best comedians to go onto the finals.

The Best Part: They gave us neat little laminated passes to wear around our neck that said "Carnival Comedy Challenge" on one side and "Funny" on the other. I like wearing things that tell people I'm funny right away so they don't have to wonder, "Is that girl funny?" as they approach me on the street. The other best part was that a neon martini glass lit up when your time was up.

The Worst Part: The judges didn't pick me. And I was good. You could tell this because I had on a laminated pass around my neck that said "Funny." They don't give those to just anyone, you know.

My second event was the Asylum Comedy Show. This was some of the best comedians from this webgroup. It was a long and good and funny show. I was not so brilliant as I would have liked to have been, yet not as sucky as I have been on some days.

The Best Part: It was taped for XM-Satellite radio so it is possible that my set will be heard by tens of people all over the country. Also some of the comics were spectacularly brilliant. Especially her. It's possible she's my newest comedy hero.

The Worst Part: I timed my set badly, so I told my applause-inducing final joke only to realize that the emcee was not in the room. So I then had to end on a much crappier joke. Also about fourteen people patted me on the head as they left the show and said, "You were SO cute." I didn't punch them in the head or anything.

That's it.

That's all I have to say about the Festival right now.

I warned you.

Now shut up or I'm getting out the bamboo.

Another gas station encounter.

HIM: You sell your eyes?
ME: Excuse me?
HIM: You sell your eyes?
ME: Will I sell my eyes?
HIM: Yes.
Me: No.
HIM: If you did, I would buy them.

Is it any wonder there is a gas crisis in the United States of America?

(NOTE: I am a stand-up comedienne. Additionally, I am an SAT tutor. The SAT *and* the Underground Comedy Festival are this week. This means that I have meetings with fourteen students this week and no less than five stand-up comedy performances. If you are good at math, you probably have already figured out that this means I will probably explode and there will be little sparkly pieces of me all over New York City. If you are a math GENIUS you have already figured out that this probably means that my blogging with be sporatic and possibly sucky. But if you are a compassionate math genius you will love me anyway.)