Reunited, And It Feels So Food.

In four days, I will leave New York City and drive for approximately three hours in a brave attempt to travel about five years into the past.  Time travel is not always the easiest goal to achieve, but as Hot Tub Time Machine has shown us, it is almost always the most rewarding both emotionally and alcoholically.

I realize that I am not the first person to have a college reunion, but I am, in fact, the only person that I care about to have a college reunion, and I am determined to win.

What’s that?  It’s not a competition?  Wow, good work. You just lost.

After years of extensive research* I have discovered the secrets to successfully prepping for, attending, and ultimately winning your college reunion.  However, due to some pending law suits, and dire warnings from medical professionals, I can only share 10 of them with you now.


1. Stop eating.  Immediately.  Maybe you weren’t that fat in college, but if you were anything like any of us, you probably were, so seriously.  Replace all your meals with nothing, or – if that’s too much for you – try eating some of Gwyneth Paltrow’s GOOP.

2. Gather up some extra business cards so you can make sure you take advantage of this excellent networking weekend.  Please note: the business cards should not be from your current job (which, quite frankly, is embarrassing).  You are now the Senior Vice President of Social Media Marketing at Rufus.  If someone asks you what Rufus is, laugh condescendingly in their face.  Idiots.

3. DO NOT GET A HAIR CUT!  You waited too long, and now, it’s too late.  You should have gone last week, but now, you have to face the reality that all your teachers/parents/girlfriends/boyfriends/friendfriends/pets were right about you.

4. Married?  Engaged?  Agoraphobic?  No one wants to hear about it.  Plan on asking a ton of questions, and avoiding sharing any information about yourself.  This will limit everyone’s disappointment in what you’ve accomplished in half a decade.

5. Buddy up.  If there’s one thing you need for this weekend, it’s alcohol.  But since that should already be packed, make sure you always book a friend for the weekend. This can be a former classmate, or it can be a Furby that you duct-taped to your shoulder like a pirate from the future.

6.  If you had a serious boyfriend in college who dumped you because he wasn’t looking for anything serious and then immediately married someone else, yowch. That has got to hurt.  Are you sure you want to go to this thing?

7. Scroll through the pictures of yourself from college currently available on Facebook.  Now look in the mirror.  Now look back at the pictures.  Honestly: a too small white drawstring cotton skirt with Ugg boots and an ironic slogan tee from Urban Outfitters?  God, you were hot.

8. What’s that smell?  Did you order nachos?!  NO EATING ALLOWED.

9. Five years is a long time.  Or, it’s no time at all.  Depending on how much you have accomplished.  Which is basically nothing.  If former classmates ask what you’re up to, say you’re considering grad school.  It’s true enough.

10. Remember: college was a super fun and extremely fat time in your life and this reunion is your chance to make every single mistake again.

Ring the Alarm

This past Saturday, I went to a wedding.

No, no.  You misunderstood.  They wanted me to be there.

I love a good wedding.  It combines a few of my most favorite things: free drinks, dance circles, panic attacks, sparkles, and perhaps most importantly, free drinks.

However, before I could get to the bar, I had to go to church.  Thankfully, this particular minister must have known I was coming.  He kept the ceremony short – and very sweet – with only one tangent that left me re-thinking everything I have ever learned from relationships and also, from Mrs. Leibowitz, my 6th grade geometry teacher.

Before the couple exchanged rings, the minister explained that he was going to teach them six things about the rings that they had to remember forever.  No pressure.

Here is his list:

1. The rings are round.  Got it.

2. The rings should be worn on your hand. Seems like a reasonable request.

3. The rings are precious. Yeah, we know.  Golum told us.

4. When playing Sonic the Hedgehog, try to collect as many rings as possible.

5. Ring-a-ling-a-ring-ding-dong.

6. Rings are one of the most challenging events in mens’ gymnastics.

As you can see, I was able to remember each of the six things – verbatim – and have posted them here part of my wedding gift to the couple.

Congratulations, Benj & Missy!  And also, you’re welcome.

Look, ma! I'm not laughing in church!

Hello, Brother. #ChurchSelfie





Cory: A Love Story

I know I’m usually pretty vague when talking about my personal life online, but I think I should be honest with all of you.

I am in love.

With Cory Booker.

If you don’t know who Cory Booker is, then it’s about time you knew: he’s my boyfriend.  (If you do know who Cory Booker is, just shut up, OK?! )

Since we are both in the public eye, busy with our respective careers that mostly focus on bettering other people’s lives, or in my case, destroying them, it can be difficult for us to spend time together.  Which is why you haven’t seen any pictures of us together.  Makes sense, doesn’t it?  You’re damn right it does.

Plus, I have been known to go slightly off-script on stage, commenting on an audience member’s appearance, his or her drink choice, or maybe even his or her mom’s level of intelligence.  Cory, of course, thinks this is hilarious, but doesn’t feel like it’s appropriate to brag about how funny his girlfriend is every day.  I mean, he’s got a (terrifying) city to run!

Our relationship is not like yours in that it is also completely imaginary.

However, we have, in fact, met.  Once.  Kind of.  I don’t want you think I’m crazy or something!

I was sneaking out of a show, trying to escape some aggressive paparazzi disguised as homeless men, and there he was.  Right by the subway entrance – I mean, by the door to my limo.  We made eye contact, but I could tell he was on his way to save more people from a burning building or something heroic like that, so I just sent him a little love note through our own private communication channel: Twitter.

It may not be the most conventional relationship, but for me – I mean, us – it works.

Cory laughing at something I said.






Training Day.

This past weekend, I was in Washington, D.C. attending a ceremony at The Library of Congress honoring my grandfather, legendary sportscaster Bob Wolff, who also happens to be my biggest fan.  Legally, I have to tell you that Bob does not actually endorse me OR this blog, but I should also probably tell you what really happened to that birthday cake for your boss that you left in the fridge – unattended! – and I’m not going to do either of those things.

When Sunday rolled around, I gathered up my things – slowly so as not to be too early – and hopped in a cab to get over to Union Station.  My train was at 10:20am, and I double-checked the time as we pulled up in front of the drop off area.

I have like, 20 minutes!  I thought to myself, making a mental note to reward myself with an extra large frozen yogurt once I got back to New York.  The line of passengers waiting to get on the train was already pretty long, but I stood there, patiently, playing Bejeweled Blitz (NEW HIGH SCORE!!!) and making mental notes of the unfortunate clothing choices the other passengers had made that day.

Once the line started to move, I took out my ticket to show the conductor.  She took a glance at it, looked back at me, looked at the ticket again, and said, “This isn’t your train.  Your train was at 10:20am…yesterday.”

Ooooh, mah bad.

I sprinted through the train station, singing “Run, Run, Rudolph” a la Home Alone out loud at top volume, so people would know I meant business.  I ran up to the ticket counter, and quickly explained my issue.  I now had eight minutes to make this train, and NO ONE SEEMED TO CARE.

Thankfully, the woman working for Amtrak was able to switch my ticket for the friendly fee of $76.52.  I darted away with my new ticket, pushing small children into the walls as I went – some were actually in my way, but some really weren’t but just looked obnoxious – and ran up to the conductor.

She took my new ticket, scanned it, stared into my eyes and said, “Nice Harvard sweatshirt.”