Does this font make me look fat?

Disclaimer:  White Girl With a Fat Ass has been suffering from a deathly head cold and apologizes for the lack of posts this week.  She is also heavily medicated and cannot be held accountable for whatever she writes in this one.

There was a time in high school where I had, let us just say, a severe lack of friends.   I have one particular memory of a school field trip to Williamsburg, VA.  I was sitting on the bus by myself with a book.  Which was fairly normal.  As the bus rolled along its merry way I was descended upon by 3 guys.  Jason and Brian, twins, and Jason’s best friend Matt.  They did not leave my side the entire trip.  I was completely overwhelmed by the attention.  The were loud, funny, and one of them (I will never admit which one) I’d had a crush on for about a year.   Back then, I thought they were the coolest guys ever.   For some reason that I can’t recall, on the trip back they serenaded me with an impromptu performance of  ‘Fly Me to the Moon’

Recalling this years later was when I first realized that the Boys perhaps had their own coolness issues in high school.  But I always smile when I hear that song.

I soon figured out that the Boys were paying me so much attention because they wanted me to get them a job at the movie theater where I worked.   But I didn’t care.  I basked in their false glories because I was  secretly desperately lonely.  However, I also quickly saw how these sharp, charming fellows used girls’ crushes on them to get what they wanted, how they would sort of ‘adopt’ other geeks to elevate their coolness, and then often quickly move on.  I was determined not to be one of these wide-eyed girls or pet dork.   There is one distinct moment not too long after that field trip which I later pinpointed as the turning point in my personality.  The birth of the smartass GuyGirl.

One day I was sitting with one of the twins (again not saying who) in their car. We were waiting for his brother to get out of band practice.  Did I mention the  coolness issues?  In the middle of rambling about random teenage things all of a sudden he blurts out,

The first time I fingered a girl, I was shocked at how much hair there was down there.

And without missing a beat, these are the very words that came out of my virginal mouth.  A mouth that had yet to even kiss a guy,

Yeah, I know.  The first time I went down on a guy I didn’t know if I should brush my teeth after or not.

We both laughed.  Aha!  I could be funny.  I didn’t have to be pretty, or popular or even all that smart.  Oddly, the coolest girls in my high school were all three.  Especially smart, like AP Calculus smart.  While I was overweight, lonely, and struggling in my AP classes.  (Hello irony)   But I could dish it out.  Keep up with the Boys.  I soon learned how to hang.  I wasn’t really a tomboy because I wasn’t good at any sports or anything really.  I was the GuyGirl.  I slept over their house.  We would watch Cool Hand Luke, play poker, and chew on candy cigars.  Coolness issues.

And I pretended it didn’t bother me when they talked about girls.  About who looked hot, who had junk in the trunk, who let them do what, where, and how often.    I just kept up, whipped out crass zingers, found my place.  Meanwhile inside, I was often mortified.  If they could find all these faults with girls that I would kill to look like, what hope did I have?  But it didn’t matter, as long as I was the funny GuyGirl friend I was safe.   It was my niche and I carved the hell out of it. To this day, I am still more comfortable being the Dude.  But I’m working on that.  At first ‘working on that’ translated to ‘insert scotch until slutty.’  But now I’m actually working on it, for reals.

And thus one of my major strengths, my sense of humor, was born directly from coping with insecurity.  I think that’s the way it usually happens though, right?  And as the Boys grew up and became the Men, they have shown themselves to be wonderful husbands, fathers, and some of the truest friends I’ve ever had.  I meanwhile write a blog about my Fat Ass, but let’s not think too hard on that one.  But hey, I have raised over $3000 for Feeding America.  Speaking of which, if you have laughed at all by this point please CLICK HERE TO DONATE. This shit ain’t free.

Years later, I was surprised when one of the Boys shared with me his own body issues in high school.  The concept of men being insecure about their bodies was something I had never even considered.  Since I started WGWaFA, I have been touched by the number of men who have commented or written to me about their own body issues.   How joyous that we can all be completely f’d up together!

I thought this The Mind of Man column, GUYS HAVE INSECURITIES, JUST LIKE WOMEN! from The Frisky is a wonderfully snarky take on this topic.  Just think, how many less truly slaptastically funny people would there be if it wasn’t for insecurity?

Good day!

In the continued effort to maintain a life balance, I have a negative tale and a joyful promotion to share with you my lovely readers.  And because I am my Father’s daughter, I will lead with the negative. This true account of my street interaction with a sleazy stranger is dedicated to my good friend Daphne.  I shall title this brief life play, YOU KNOW YOU ARE JADED WHEN…

Walking out of a bodega in my  neighborhood this weekend, a very unsavory fellow sidled up beside me on the street and our conversation went a little something like this:

Him:  Oh, beautiful lady. Beautiful lady,  so beautiful.

Me:  Yeah, fucking lot of good it’s done me.

And scene.  **Insert Emoticon Bow Here**

On the flip side, here is a really fun way that you can support Arts for All, a great non-profit arts organization that serves in-need children ages 4-19, by drinking shiny happy Jamba Juice!!

Help bring the arts to in-need children by making a purchase at Jamba Juice THIS FRIDAY, August 21st. Just mention us at the register!

Jamba Juice, in New York City, will be sponsoring Arts for All, Inc. in a special promotion on Friday, August 21st. Simply mention Arts for All at the register anytime on August 21st, and 20% of your purchase will go to serving in-need children through the arts! Arts for All will also have a free children’s arts and craft station from 1-5pm at all participating locations (with the exception of the Union Square location), so bring your children!

Participating Locations:

*Jamba Juice located in Tribeca at 88 West Broadway, between Warren and Chambers

*Jamba Juice located at Houston and Mercer

*Jamba Juice located at 23rd Street and 5th Avenue

*Jamba Juice located at Union Square South on University Place

*Jamba Juice located at 24th Street and 7th Avenue

*Jamba Juice located at 13th Street and 6th Avenue

For more information, visit www.arts-for-all.org

Note: This is the first time I have used the ‘f word’ in my blog.  Not counting Frak.  This was unavoidable in order to depict my brief life play as accurately as possible.  Thank you.

The other night I had the chance to hear an amazing writer, and storyteller speak.  And do what it appears he does best, tell ridiculously funny, well-timed stories.  By the end of the night, I was drooling with envy at his charm, mastering of wordplay, and career accomplishments.

To name a small few the speaker, Alan Zweibel, use to carpool to comedy clubs with Billy Crystal, was an original writer on SNL, brought 700 Sundays and Martin Short’s one man show Fame Becomes Me (which I had the awesome pleasure of seeing ) to Broadway.  Had an amazing writing partnership with Gilda Radner and was a writer for one of my favorite shows growing up, The Gary Shandling Show.  Even as I type this the theme song is resurfacing and looping in my mind.

As he spoke, oohs of acknowledgment rose from the audience when different pop culture firecrackers went off in their brains as they listened in awe to the man who had helped create these golden moments.  I found it oddly charming that for me the firecracker that sparkled the brightest was when he spoke of writing the novel and then the screenplay for the movie NORTH.

When I was in high school, I worked at a movie theater.  I also had a passionate admiration for the director Rob Reiner.  When I discovered that two of what I considered to be the greatest movies of all time, The Princess Bride and A Few Good Men, had come from the same man,  I proclaimed Meathead my movie God.  I was very excited for the opening weekend of NORTH.  I had snagged a copy of the poster when they came in, and fought for the NORTH button to wear proudly on my uniform lapel.  This was going to be a great movie.

I worked a twelve hour shift, the highlight being a small child standing in the long concessions’ line chanting incessantly for what seemed like hours

Lion King, Lion King, Lion King, Lion King, lion king mommmy, lion king, Lion King

Until I was almost fired for proclaiming a tad too loudly

Somebody Kill it!

When I was done, I took my grease-splattered, butter-weary bones to see NORTH.  I walked out in the same manner as I imagined many Star Wars fans must have after the premier of Episode I.  Utterly disappointed and angry as if I had been personally wronged.  Cut to – I really don’t want to calculate how many years later – and here I am laughing my ass off listening to this man speak.   Lately, I have had similar feelings about how the course of my life has turned out

Disappointed and angry as if I had been personally wronged

Listening to this fascinating man talk and share his life stories, including the beautifully whimsical first meeting of Gilda Radner while hiding behind a plant at his first SNL writer’s meeting, I felt privileged that the course of my life had lead me to this moment.

When the moderator asked Mr. Zweibel if he had any words for a room of aspiring writers, he encouraged us to never give up, never let anyone tell you that you don’t have talent.  He then did the most wonderful thing ever.  He pulled a well rumpled review of NORTH out of his wallet and then read the first few lines of Roger Ebert’s review that has now become infamous and starts

I hated this movie. Hated hated hated hated hated this movie. Hated it.

So infamous that it was used as the title for Roger Ebert’s 2000 book which collected up reviews of thumbs way down movies.  Why he carries this review around in his wallet, I’m not sure. Then again, wouldn’t you? But the very real idea of not being afraid of Failure and following the beat of your heart, murmurs and all, poured forth.  I wanted to jump up and shout to this brilliantly quirky fellow, “You Failed!” and finally celebrate my long ago anticipated movie NORTH.

Alan Zweibel’s take on the now google-able  Hated, Hated review was like, I string words together and hope that people will like them.  Sometimes they do.  Sometimes they don’t.  Hey, it’s not like I committed a war crime.

As the rejections for my latest script have started rolling in. And I struggle with my weight, and emotional eating to cope, along with finding the courage to start the daunting process of writing a new script, who would have ever thought I’d find so much inspiration in the movie NORTH?  Just please don’t ask me to watch it again.

Thank you to Mr. Zweibel, an author who has also written the books Bunny Bunny: Gilda Radner – A Sort of Love Story, The Other Shulman, and Clothing Optional: And Other Ways to Read These Stories