That's an excellent question. Answer: Chris and I can produce really funny content really, really fast. So you should hire us and/or agent us 'n shit. Because I'm sick of doing soft-shoe in front of various metro stations to afford all the eyebrow and upper-lip threading I require to look like a halfway normal human being. So...tell a friend. If your friend is an agent, that is. If not, please don't tell your friends that I can't afford hair maintenance. BECAUSE I CAN. It just takes some shufflin'.
Speaking of our "career", I was telling my dad about an article I read on Jezebel today about how Jon Stewart's writing staff only has two women and Conan's only has one, and it prompted this conversation:
Meg: I want in, Dad. I want in, and I want in bad.
Dad: Well, write a letter to Jon Stewart.
Meg: 'Eh...that sounds like a whole...thing. But I did tweet that I'm free and Chris is gay, so we'd be 2 birds, 1 diversity hire.
Dad: PLUS EVIE IS KIND OF ASIAN!!1!
That last comment is never not the funniest thing I've ever heard for the following three reasons:
1.) I appreciate that my dad is so desperate for me to get a job, he's actually willing to throw his cat into the mix if it makes me even slightly more hireable.
2.) I'm completely in love with the mental image of us kicking in the door to Jon Stewart's office, slamming our hands down on his desk and being like, "Alright, Stewart, here's the deal: I'm a lady, [points to Chris] that kid's gay, and our intern is a five-year-old Tonkinese cat from Jersey with a serious attitude problem. We're a learning disability and a pint of Cherokee blood away from a full ride to Sarah Lawrence—you hiring us or what?" And then security comes in, escorts us out of the building, and bans us for life. Like most of my fantasies, sexual or otherwise, it's bittersweet and takes a sharp left turn at the end.
3.) I also really like imagining of the three of us as the Planeteers, except instead of summoning Captain Planet when we put our rings together, we make a funny, gay Asian woman. So, Margaret Cho, I guess.
And now I leave you with my Ten Photos That Summarize the Past Four Weeks, à la Chris' post yesterday.
This was also the week that constantly doing the Tim Gunn deep-in-thought hand gesture
and the head-in-hands-why-am-I-such-a-fuck-up? motion
finally caught up with me and I developed a pimple above my lip in the exact location of a "Monroe" piercing and one between my eyebrows that was so big, it actually cast a shadow, thereby making it look like I have a unibrow. Composite photography shows I looked something like this:
The unibrow zit is obviously still lingering because it wouldn't be an official 2birds1blog event if I wasn't sweating profusely and/or breaking out in some sort of heinous fashion. I don't have "snake bite" piercings or a chest tattoo, but we've got two more days until the big show. It's still anybody's game.
Four more to go...
I'd like to say I didn't download instagram for the sole purpose of taking that artsy photograph of a Sue Grafton novel, toilet paper, and Pepto-Bismol, but why lie? The app was free and it summarizes a time in my life so perfectly. Stress-induced diarrhea and solvin' mysteries on the terlet: September 2011. Amen.