Yes Please
I THINK SEX IS GREAT. I love it and I am here to say I am good at it. Here is my World-Famous Sex Advice. Please follow it to the letter and don’t challenge me on any of it. Note that all of this advice is meant for older people (strictly eighty-plus). This advice works for both straight and gay couples but you’ll have to do your own work with switching the pronouns. All sex, in this instance and every instance, should be between consenting adults. Thank you in advance.
Ladies, listen up.
1.Try not to fake it. I know you are tired/nervous/eager to please/unsure of how to get there. Just remember to allow yourself real pleasure and not worry about how long it takes. If it makes you feel better, set a time frame. Say to your partner, “I think you are going to have to work on me for close to forty-five minutes and then we can see how it’s going and regroup.” God punished us with the gift of being able to fake it. Show God who the real boss is by getting off and getting yours.
2.Stop being so goal oriented when it comes to sex. You might not make it to the finish line every time. Don’t worry about it. Each part of the journey can be great.
3.Keep your virginity for as long as you can, until it starts to feel weird to you. Then just get it over with. Try not to have your first time be in a car.
4.Don’t have sex with people you don’t want to have sex with. Remember that no matter how old you are, every time you see that person the first thing you will think of is “I had sex with you.”
5.Don’t get undressed and start pointing out your flaws or apologizing for things you think are wrong with your body. Men don’t notice or care. They are about to get laid! They are so psyched. Men are very visual, so if you don’t want them to look at your stomach just put fake mustaches on your breasts to distract them.
6.Get better at dirty talk. Act like a bossy lady ordering at a deli. “I want the ham on rye and make sure you toast it!” If your guy is bad at dirty talk tell him to shut up. He might like that. If you don’t like dirty talk, don’t worry about it. It’s pretty hot if done well but it may not be up your alley. Also, try not to stick things up your alley.
7.Don’t let your kids sleep in your bed.
8.You have to have sex with your husband occasionally even though you are exhausted. Sorry.
9.Don’t make fun of men. Don’t be mean to them or hurt their feelings. Try not to crush their dreams or their balls.
10.Stay away from pics and videos. They last forever and you don’t want a snooping babysitter (me) to find them.
11.Laugh a lot and try new things with someone you love.
Gentlemen, rules for you. Eyes up here, please.
1.We don’t need it to last as long as you think. Hurry up. We are so tired.
2.We don’t want to remember your penis. We want to remember everything else but hopefully your penis is just a wonderful blur of goodness. If your penis is too big or too small or goes to the side or has a weird thing, we will remember it. If you have something very weird, tell us right away so we aren’t wondering if you know. Then we can laugh and get back to doing it.
3.You can’t fall asleep right after. You have to stay awake for at least a few minutes. Remember, if you fall asleep we will stare at you and evaluate you. This is a very vulnerable time when we may decide we don’t want to have sex with you again.
4.Keep it sexy. Don’t believe what you see in movies. It really isn’t cute when you stick out your gut.
5.Cool it on the porn and jerking off. We think porn is great and so is jerking off, but if we are going to have sex it may cause some problems. If you depend too heavily on the technical or visual then you may not notice the real flesh-and-blood person in your bed.
6.Be nice, tell your woman she is hot, never shame her, and never hurt her.
7.Work on your dirty talk too. Try different things but keep trying. Avoid the words “climax,” “moist,” and “mom.” Don’t speak in a fake accent. Or blaccent.
8.If you don’t get an erection, we know it’s usually not because of us. We look concerned because we are wondering if it will keep happening.
9.Stay away from orgies. They just take so much organizing and I feel like your time could be better spent.
10.Open up and try new things with someone you love.
11.If you don’t eat pussy, keep walking.
gimme that pudding
I HAVE BEEN NOMINATED FOR SOME AWARDS. This is very cool. I have hosted a few award shows, which is also cool. My first was the High Times Stony Awards in 2000, and the last was the Golden Globes in 2014. The Upright Citizens Brigade had a strong and early relationship with High Times, which was then a magazine filled with Jerry Garcia conspiracy theories and sexy centerfold pictures of weed. For you young readers, the term “magazine” used to mean a collection of printed papers that you would hold in your hand and read by turning the pages. Still confused? Try this . . . picture folding your MacBook and sticking it in your pocket. Oh, you kids don’t use MacBooks anymore? You use eyelid screens and mind cameras? Bully for you. I digress.
Let’s all just agree that acting awards are strange. They are based on the idea that a committee of a select few puts a bunch of very different performances next to each other and then decides who gets the pudding. Don’t get me wrong—to be in the company of other great actors and valued for your work is a whole lot better than being ignored. Nothing is worse than being ignored. Glenn Close said it best when she told Michael Douglas in the romantic comedy Fatal Attraction, “I WILL NOT BE IGNORED, DAN.” She was so upset about being ignored she cooked a bunny on the stove. You don’t even want to find out what I would do. A lot of people don’t know I am always thisfuckingclose to doing some crazy shit.
Getting nominated for an award is very exciting. Anyone who says it is not is either lying or on a very strong beta blocker. You have a one-in-five chance of getting the pudding! That being said, I have not won very often. Always a bridesmaid, I guess. By that I mean people are always mistaking me for someone from Bridesmaids. I have also been mistaken for “that girl from MADtv,” and Chris Rock once called me Rachel Dratch, proving once and for all that Chris Rock is horribly racist.
The worst part of being nominated for any award is that despite your best efforts, you start to want the pudding. You spend weeks thinking about how it doesn’t matter and it’s all just an honor and then seconds before the name of the winner is announced everything inside you screams . . . “GIMME THAT PUDDING!!” Then comes the adrenaline dump, followed by shame. You didn’t even want the pudding and here you are upset that you didn’t get it. You think about all the interviews you did talking about the pudding or all the interviews you passed on because you didn’t want people to think you wanted that pudding too much. You leave the awards show hungry and confused. To combat this, I decided to distract myself in that awkward and vulnerable moment the “winner” was annouced. I decided to focus my attention on something I could control.
Bits! Bits! Bits!
The first time I was nominated for an Emmy it was for Best On-Screen Orgasm in a Dramatic Civil War Reenactment. Just kidding, it was for Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Comedy, for SNL. As would become the norm, I was included in a great group of women whose work I admire. I had an idea that we should all wear mustaches when our names were announced as nominees. Then I heard Sarah Silverman, who was nominated for Outstanding Lead Actress, was planning on doing the same thing. She had even brought her own mustache with her. I chalk it up to great minds. A quick scramble ensued and I collected a series of props in hopes they would work. If I remember correctly, they consisted of some crazy glasses, an eye patch, and a monocle. You know, the things every girl must have in her purse when on the red carpet. I remember how fun it was asking the women if they wanted in on it and how quickly everyone said yes. Jane Krakowski, Kristen Wiig, Kristin Chenoweth, Elizabeth Perkins, and Vanessa Williams were all game. Since Vanessa’s name was announced last I thought it would be funny if we all did something stupid and then Vanessa just shook
her head like “Hell no, I am not doing this stupid bit.” I called her from the car on the way to the show and started to feel better. First, because I had a secret, and that always feels exciting. Second, because my brain was focusing on something besides the pudding. We all did the bit, but because we didn’t let the producers know we were doing it and it was the first award of the night, they didn’t put our faces on the screen inside the auditorium, so it all kind of played to silence. This only goes to show the commitment of all those women to stick with the plan no matter what. Julia Louis-Dreyfus wanted very badly to join in even though she was in a different category, which shows you how much power distraction can hold. I ended up having a very fun night and coming to the realization that the less seriously I take these things, the better. I honestly don’t even remember who won that year. (Kristin Chenoweth.)
The following year I was breast-feeding a six-week-old Abel. I was too tired to think of bits but my hormones were telling me to just jump onstage and grab the award before they announced the winner. Luckily I had enough oxytocin floating around in my body that I didn’t care or notice who won. (Edie Falco.) Jimmy Fallon hosted and crushed. I sat in the front row and heckled like any good friend should. I then dragged my new-mama ass to the after-party with what Tina referred to as my impressive “temporary rack.” I broke my toe on the banquette I was dancing on. That’s right. ON. I acted like the blue-collar party machine I had been raised to be. Jon Hamm and I held Emmys that weren’t ours. We called ourselves losers all night and years later threw a losers party where winners had to donate money to charity to get in.
The next day this mother of two woke up with a swollen foot and hobbled to the airport. Lucky for me and deeply unlucky for him, I ran into my old friend Bradley Cooper, who was on the same flight that morning. I asked him to “escort me to my seat.” I imagined the paparazzi photos the next day lauding Cooper for helping an old and confused lady find her way.
Then came 2011, the best pudding quest yet.
A few weeks before the Emmys I was having dinner with Martha Plimpton, Andy Richter, and his wife, writer Sarah Thyre. Andy and Sarah were some of the first people I met and hung out with when I came to New York in the mid-1990s. They were already married then and had a duplex apartment where they threw great parties that brilliant writers like David Sedaris and David Rakoff attended. They were real adults at a time when I was still a struggling kid and were always generous and kind to me. At dinner, we all discussed a fun bit that could keep my mind off the pudding again. I was reminiscing about the great old bits done by Harvey Korman and Tim Conway. I had loved one particular moment when as soon as their names were called each man just immediately got out of his seat as if he had won. They stood onstage together and when the “winner” was announced they both shook Chevy Chase’s hand and sat back down. It was simple and funny and supportive and stupid—all great things. We decided that this year Martha and I, along with our fellow nominees, should do something similar, but add in a beauty pageant element. I e-mailed my fellow nominees for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Comedy Laura Linney, Edie Falco, and Melissa McCarthy, and they were all in, of course. I knew my girl Tina was down to clown, because she herself was breast-feeding at the time, and as history has shown, this is when a bitch is most likely to go OFF.
I gave the producers just the right amount of info so they could shoot our bit properly this time. We had someone buy a crown and flowers, and slowly my craving for pudding vanished again. I desperately wanted to go up onstage first because I thought the person who went up first would get the biggest laugh. But Edie Falco was first alphabetically and it seemed too grabby to ask her to switch. As luck would have it, Edie Falco e-mailed me a few days before and asked me if I would like to go onstage first. I pretended like I was doing her a favor but I was super psyched about it. Rob Lowe and Sofia Vergara read my name and I just got out of my seat and pretended I had won. Standing up there, I could feel the audience’s delight and confusion, followed by pure joy when Melissa and the other women followed suit. Everyone added her own twist. Martha Plimpton screamed like she was Miss Virginia, Laura Linney pretended to wipe lipstick off her teeth, and Tina tried to kiss Jack McBrayer. We all came up onstage and held hands like we were in the final moments of the Miss America pageant. I felt like I might die from happiness. When Melissa won, we all genuinely screamed with joy. Standing onstage being funny with those ladies was so much better than winning. I can only assume. I didn’t win. Melissa did. It doesn’t matter.
In 2012, I felt a little pressure to do something better, which isn’t helpful because there is nothing worse than being the sweaty one in the group leading the charge. Plus I was going to the Emmys for the first time without my husband of ten years and I kind of just wanted to hide. Instead, I sat next to Louis CK. Louie really doesn’t care about the pudding, which is one of the many things I love about him. I also love that he is really honest, gives great advice, and knows how to drive a boat.
To combat my nerves, I picked a dress that made my boobs hang out so people would be too distracted to ask me about my personal life. It was very “eyes down here, guys.” Because of our fun bit the year before, people had started asking me if I had “something planned” and this made me sad and self-conscious. Then Julia Louis-Dreyfus called me. It was two hours before the Emmys and I was already seven hours into my pregame. There is an insane amount of industrial light and magic required to make me look like a pretty lady at an awards show, and I won’t say the process is enjoyable. Julia said something to the effect of “I think one of us will win. If I do, will you do this bit with me? And if you win can I do it with you?” Suddenly I was focused on something active and alive instead of worrying about my boob tape. Julia had the idea that we should hug and “switch speeches” so that the winner read the other woman’s speech by mistake. I was so excited about doing the bit that I was hoping I wouldn’t win. And I didn’t! And I didn’t care. **Ultimate pudding switch**
Hosting the Golden Globes in 2013 with my life partner, Tina, was so fun. Sometimes Tina is like a very talented bungee-jumping expert. All it takes is for Tina to softly say, “We can do this, right?” and I suddenly feel like I can jump off a bridge. Two things also helped me in my preparation for this year. I spent the first day of 2013 touring orphanages in Haiti as the Ambassador of Arts for Worldwide Orphans. Nothing reminds you of what is important more than being face-to-face with children who lack basic love and care. My separation had given me a major case of the fuck-its. Ambivalence can be a powerful tool.
To get ready for our first Golden Globes together, Tina and I spent a lot of time procrastinating and sending texts about how terrible it was going to be. Deep down I wasn’t worried, because Tina is the finest joke soldier you could ever go to war with. She also keenly understands the importance of good lighting. We enlisted the help of our great friend and former SNL producer Michael Shoemaker, as well as America’s Sweetheart, Seth Meyers. We treated the whole thing like we were preparing for “Weekend Update,” only without a desk and with an audience of thirty million. On the day of rehearsal we were told that jokes often leak before the live show, so we stood in our fancy jeans and sneakers and delivered our monologue with the setups only, no punch lines. It was thrilling. When I walked out onstage that night, I realized I was actually a little nervous because I do a weird thing when I am nervous where I tilt my head back like I am super confident. This is my attempt to fake it until I make it, or at the very least make it easier for someone to slit my throat.
The jokes went well. The show was fun. Tina and I had the idea to pretend to be fake actors in the audience. I believe we were there representing the smash hit Dog President. We also decided to sit in the audience when our own category was announced and cozy up to some grade-A celebrity meat. Of the many things I learned from working at Saturday Night Live, one of them is to not overwhelm people with requests. So on the day of the awards I simply asked George Clooney’s people to check and make sure George
was okay with my sitting next to him at some point during the broadcast. “Of course!” said George’s people, after not asking him. I knew enough to not ask them to check with George and see if it was okay to sit on his lap. This was a request better saved for the last minute and in person. Or better yet, when the time came, I would just sit on his lap without even asking. As the old saying goes, “Don’t ask for permission to sit on George Clooney’s lap, beg for forgiveness once you do.”
So I sat on George’s lap, and ever the pro, George asked me what kind of bit I was cooking up. I told him when they cut to me in the audience after announcing my nomination for best comedy actress I was going to act totally engrossed in talking to him. I told him I thought it would be funny if we were just flirting and laughing. He understood immediately and handed me a glass of champagne. I told him if I won there was a very good chance I would kiss him hard on the mouth. He responded, “That’s not a bad Sunday.” As the camera cut to me he whispered in my ear, “The thing about making movies is . . .”
There is a reason why Clooney is considered the best. BECAUSE HE IS.
The lessons? Women are mighty. George Clooney loves bits. Doing something together is often more fun than doing it alone. And you don’t always have to win to get the pudding.*†
great acceptance speech!
feel free to use!
I always assumed I would be smooth and prepared when I won something, but adrenaline is a crazy bitch. I stumbled through my speech when I won some pudding, and I was too embarrassed to ever watch it. I had written an acceptance speech but forgot all about it. It is below. I think it sums me up pretty well and I can’t wait to use it one day, #godwilling.
bad sleeper
SLEEP AND I DO NOT HAVE A GOOD RELATIONSHIP. We have never been friends. I am constantly chasing sleep and then pushing it away. A good night’s sleep is my white whale. Like Ahab, I am also a total drama queen about it. I love to talk about how little sleep I get. I brag about it, as if it is a true indication of how hard I work. But I truly suffer at night. Bedtime is fraught with fear and disappointment. When it is just me alone with my restless body and mind, I feel like the whole world is asleep and gone. It’s very lonely. I am tired of being tired and talking about how tired I am.