(The following is a cover letter I wrote in response to an ad for "Comedy Writer (female)---full time position includes benefits." Sadly by the time I wrote the cover letter, the ad had been removed. So someone else will be getting these benefits.)

Dear Potential 401(k) Providers--

I might be just what you're looking for. Not only am I a comedy writer, but I am also a girl. With menstruation and everything. How could this not work out?

As requested, I do have professional comedy writing experience in a variety of genres. In addition to writing for my own stand-up comedy career, I currently write political comedy for The Melting Pot Project, and formerly wrote comedic college admission videos for The U. I was even requested by the Oxygen Network to write a sitcom pilot, which I did. They chose not to read it, however, because they had just purchased a show for cats. FOR cats.

I am not making that up.

In lieu of the 10 jokes about the financial crisis that you requested, I'm linking to two comedic articles I've recently published about the financial crisis (now would be the time to write "terrible at following directions" on my evaluation.) You can read them here and here. However, if you'd rather read straight out set-up/punchline jokes, I've attached several below this cover letter. You can see other samples of my writing here, here, and here.

Best of luck with your work. I hope to get a chance to work with you in the future. But if this doesn't work out, I know where you can purchase a pretty cheap show for cats.

Jill Twiss

I would be cast in a national tour of a Broadway musical right now if I were taller. Oh, and blonder. And older. Also, if I were an entirely different person.

I mean, I'm pretty sure that's what they were saying.

They thought I was good. Very VERY good, they said. But I was me and they wanted not-me. They wanted tall-blonde-old-Jill-Twiss who is, frankly, not Jill Twiss at all.

Even if I stretch and eat oatmeal.

(NOTE: I do not, in fact, eat oatmeal. Unless you count cookies. I mean, *I* definitely count them as oatmeal. Even chocolate chip cookies should count, really, just for the fact that they could have oatmeal in them. They have oatmeal potential. And Oreos. Because I feel relatively certain that the "O" in "Oreo" stands for Oatmeal. The more I think about it, with all the oatmeal I'm clearly eating every day, I'm pretty sure they should just give me a Quaker hat and stick me on the box.)

Anyway, my point is that if you happen to be the writer or director of a Broadway musical that needs a not-tall-not-blonde-not-old-Jill-Twiss, could you call me?

'Cause I know a girl that's PERFECT for the part.

I learned from Katy Newton that "jumping jacks" are called "star jumps" in the U.K.

I think I shall start my own brand of English-English dictionaries.

It's been coming for a while, friends: Here's the post where you figure out that I don't know anything about computery or internety things. Added, of course, to the long list of OTHER things that I don't know, like "how to make soup" or "the square root of my nose."

You see, in my world, people talk about bloggy things all the time and I nod enthusiastically and smile appreciatively and have no idea what they're talking about. This happens fairly regularly. Thus when, for the first time EVER, I've been "tagged" for something, I feel certain that I'm going to botch it up. Here's what it says to do:

"Go into your photo archive, pick the 4th folder in the archive, select the 4th picture in the folder, and write about it."

First issue: I don't even know what a photo archive is. I know what a photo is. I know what an archive is. I'm gonna guess that a photo archive is the folder that says "Pictures" on my computer. If it's not then you should stop reading now, because you're going to be very disappointed in me.

Second issue: Assuming I guessed right on the photo archive thing, then there are no folders IN my picture folder. None. How can I pick the fourth when there are zero? It's a bit like trying to pick the fourth smartest woman on The Bachelor.

So yes. No idea if it was the right plan or not, but I just picked the fourth photo. I will understand if this blog entry explodes right this minutey-minute and someone knocks on my door and punches me in the face.

It's not the easiest picture in the world to explain, I'm afraid. The animal is a penguin. That's easy enough.

It was a gift. From a boy (a good one.) He and I are inexplicably obsessed with adopting a penguin together. Thus he sent me a penguin. Toy, of course. Practice just in case we ever managed to get a real penguin.

Which is why both of us were so shocked when the toy penguin began writing letters and trying to convince us to buy him a slip-and-slide. His allergy to krill was also a surprise, but a pleasant one in that they do not seem to sell it at Sam's Club and I wasn't sure where to try next.

So yes. That's the picture. Not the fourth one in the fourth folder. But a picture, nevertheless. I do hope I have fulfilled my duty, Greenmantle.

Now I'm off to penguin-proof my apartment.

My friend Suzy is putting on a show next weekend. It is in St. Paul, Minnesota. Or Minneapolis, Minnesota depending on what the kids are calling it nowadays.

Now I know that most of you don't LIVE in St. MinneaPaulis (as I just decided I shall call it from now till eternity or Thursday.) But some of you might very well live there. In fact, I *know* some of you live there because my sitemeter blog location button tells me that you do.

Unless, of course, the person reading my blog that is from St. Paul *is* my friend that is putting on the show. In which case, damnit.

But just in case, I give you this information about the show (for those of you who do NOT live in St. MinneaPaulis, I give you a link to the cast of said show acting out the theme to "The Facts of Life." It's a win-win.):

"The sequel to the sold-out hit show Unexpected Songs, DreamBoys features five talented men singing Broadway songs made famous by the bawdy women of the boards. Popular Twin Cities stage personalities Doug Anderson, Tim Kuehl, Bart Shane Ruf, C. Ryan Shipley, and Paul Whittemore bring a little something extra to timeless classics, diva favorites, and rare gems of the theater.

The show is set in a theater lobby moments before an audition, where each man steadies his nerves and wonders…what if I could audition for Eliza instead of Henry Higgins?

Featuring songs from such hit shows as Wicked, Thoroughly Modern Millie, Little Shop of Horrors, A Chorus Line, and contemporary classics The Wild Party, The Last Five Years, and Light in the Piazza. Expect powerful belting, thoughtful ballads, and a generous dose of gender-bending fun.

Running February 6-22 at the Lowry Lab Theater in downtown St. Paul. For more info, visit www.blueumbrellaproductions.net

Reservations: Call 651-646-2943 or email dreamboys2009@yahoo.com"

Dear Floor-Fixers,

I was surprised when the office at my apartment building announced that you were coming to fix my boiling hot floors. I was also concerned when the words "several days," "jackhammering concrete in your kitchen," and "don't worry, we'll put boards over the holes so you can walk" were mentioned.

But, let's be honest, here are things I was most concerned with:

1) The fact that this horrible concrete-jack-hammer extravaganza was to start at 8:30 in the a.m. For me, 8:30 a.m. is like Bigfoot: I know that there are rumors of its existence and many people actually claim to have seen it, but I'm still skeptical. And since I am no rancher or maker-of-donuts, I see no reason to find out.

2) The fact that you need to tear up my floor implies that you need to be able to find my floor. And THAT means that there will have to be cleaning involved.

Cleaning?

AND 8:30 a.m.-ing?

Seriously Floor-Fixers, didn't they hold a Geneva convention about this at some point? I'm relatively sure that I voted for Barack Obama because he was AGAINST this sort of thing.

So thanks, pals, for creating a Guantanamo-Of-The-Soul in my apartment.

Kisses,

Jill

It seems that I, in a case of horrible misspeaking, told my audience last night that I think 8 year olds are "hot."

Which I don't.

On the other hand, if they WERE, that would be an awesome hit show for Fox.

"Are You Hotter Than a Third Grader?"

There are, I think, lots of good reasons for a person not writing in her blog for weeks and weeks and weeks. Most of them involve either having a terrible illness or else being eaten by a whale (Jonah NEVER updated his blog, but God didn't complain even once.)

Me? Oh, I'm not sick or inside a whale at all. Frankly, I don't even like fish.

No, for me it's more like not calling someone back. At first you're like, "I'll totally call her tomorrow." And then after several more tomorrows, you think, "I can't call her NOW. Because then it will be totally obvious that I didn't call her back. And she's probably forgotten that she called anyway. So why point it out?" And then three months go by, and you're like, "NOW if I call her back, she'll be like 'Jill Twiss? Who's Jill Twiss? I don't know any Jill Twiss.'" and then I'll cry myself to sleep.

So, you see, to avoid crying myself asleep, I haven't written in my blog. Get it? Now, onto business.

Things that have and have not happened since I last wrote in my blog:

1) I did not become famous.

I know. I am as shocked as you are. In this time, a random pilot became famous for being attacked by Al Queda birds. The governor of Illinois became famous just for being an awesomely-capitalist entrepeneur. He should get together with Sarah Palin and sell Senate seats on Ebay. Oh, and I don't want to alarm you, but it seems that we elected a BLACK MAN as President. He's totally famous.

But me? Not even a little bit famous. Nope.

2) I've been cheating on you with another blog.

I know there's no excuse, but they're PAYING me. Which yes, makes me a blogstitute. But how else will I fund my crack habit and need for good ice cream? So if and when you feel like I'm not writing enough, you can visit me here.

3) My new computer only sometimes works.

Part of me feels like I have no right to complain about this, because *I* only sometimes work. Lots of times I don't work. But still, I would very much like a computer that worked ALL the time. Even Tuesdays.

4) I tried beer floats

Chocolate ice cream. Bud Light. I try these things so you don't have to.

Things That Were At My Sweet 16 Birthday Party:
1) Cake
2) Ice cream
3) A recording of "Phantom of the Opera"
4) 10 friends

Things That Were At My Student's Sweet 16 Birthday Party:
1) Cupcakes
2) Ice cream
3) Dancing transvestites
4) Ice sculptures of Buddha
5) 400 people
6) Gloria Gainor singing "I Will Survive" (for realsies)

These times, they are a'changin.

Back in 1628, before there were computers or I-pods or sarcasm, people could hardly imagine the miracle that is flight. Even by using every single part of their brain, they could not envision the fact that a girl named Jill Twiss can now, in 2008, get from New York City to Custer, South Dakota in ONLY TWENTY-ONE HOURS.

Yes, that's true folks. Due to miraculous technological innovations, this very week I was able to leave New York at four o'clock in the not-quite morning, and arrive in South Dakota by 1 am the very next day!!!

If I could suggest an accurate slogan for United Airlines, it would be, "Sure we won't take off on time or land on time, but we'll make up for it by hiring mean customer service agents who try to make it sound like it's your fault!"

Whee.