Lean Over: Women, Work, and Women’s Work

My book, co-written with fellow comic Alison Leiby, is finally here!

Lean Over: Women, Work, and Women’s Work is now available for purchase on Amazon.com.  Buy your copy here: http://www.amazon.com/Lean-Over-Women-Womens-ebook/dp/B00DL31O5I/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1372095988&sr=1-1&keywords=lean+over

Here’s a sneak peek:

Gloria Steinem, Helen Gurley Brown, Susan B. Anthony, Hilary Clinton, and Snooki.

What do all these women have in common?  They all had vaginas.  Allegedly.

These women fought hard for equality and paved the way for modern women to do things like work for two years before leaving to “raise your family” or sell your homemade feather jewelry on Etsy.

Women became 50 percent of the college graduates in the United States in the early 1980s, so equality: achieved!  We did it!  But the fight is far from over.  It is damn near impossible to be cast on Bravo’s Real Housewives series and Lean Cuisine prices are at an all time high.

But despite what Beyonce may have you believe, men still run the world.

Ideally women would run half our companies and men run half our homes, but I think even the kids would eventually get sick of pop-tarts and bourbon for dinner. And my co-workers would probably get tired of all my emotions. Sad face.

Being a powerful woman is not all meal delivery systems and Botox appointments.  You will face challenges, and these challenges will be challenging. It’ll be like your own version of The Hunger Games, but with less gluten.  In the office, you will be sexually harassed, or as I like to call it, noticed and appreciated. The off handed remarks about how your tits look in that top are probably your boss’ way of telling you that you’re a valued employee.  Just know that he is a man, and he can’t help it.  Plus, if he’s single, go for it, girl!  He totally likes you.

In case you haven’t noticed, men and women are very different.  Men like the color blue, while women prefer cupcakes.  In a recent study of high level executives conducted at Harvard, it was discovered that over 92% of men consider themselves to be hard workers while only 13% of women were happily married.  That same study revealed that 67% of men did not obsess over whether or not PinkBerry was lying about how many calories are in a small cup. Conversely, it was discovered that this is all women think about all the time.

However, women have made some significant advances in world of business in recent years.  For example, Khloe Kardashian – arguably the least attractive of the sisters – has amassed a small fortune of shoes, handbags, and Sacajawea coins.  While her brother, a man, has only gotten fat.  Heidi Klum is another inspirational example of a woman initially being admired for her good looks, but ultimately working hard to sleep her way to the top.  In fact, almost 87% of all working mothers are women.

I am aware of the criticism for speaking out about issues of inequality, or even really speaking at all because I’m a woman and no one asked me a question. But the publisher sent me a check, and someone to write it, and now I can add author to my long list of accomplishments.  Please do not look to this book as a source of helpful advice, or guidance as you tackle your own career.  I cannot recall one woman who helped me in my life, so figure it out on your own.


The Inside Job

Last Friday, I was robbed.

I awoke to hear the news of this burglary via email from a fellow comic.  He claimed that he was talking with yet another comic – who I had never met – who said he had seen yet ANOTHER comic do one of my jokes at a different show.

*High pitched old horror movie scream!*

I tried to stay calm.  I took another sip of coffee, had a bite of my cold congealed oatmeal, and chased that with three shots of my morning vodka.

“Who was it?” I whispered, out loud, for effect, but you know, also wrote in an email since I don’t communicate with anyone in person, as a rule.

He didn’t know her name, but apparently she was very tall, had brown hair, and an affinity for stealing terrific jokes about the Plan B pill.  IT COULD BE ANYONE.  The witness comic promised he would not rest until he found out the criminal’s identity, or you know, just ask around a bit.

Sure, I thought, I could write a new joke.  Of course I could write a new joke.  But that was going to take time, energy, creativity, and it was 11am and I was already out of vodka.

Finally I knew exactly how those Winklevoss twins must have felt when they got Zuckberg’d.

A day went by, and still our very professional investigation that involved only a moderate amount of semi-obsessive internet stalking had produced no results.    Meanwhile, my completely irrational anger raged on, and I began to make panicked sobby phone calls to my many supportive friends.*

*my mom

The witness comic then emailed me to ask about my whereabouts the previous Thursday.  I didn’t really see the relevance, but figured he just needed more details for his extensive crime story board, as shown in countless episodes of Law & Order: SVU.

“Alyssa,” he wrote.  “I think I know who did this.”

I held my breath.

“It was you.”


This past weekend was another family-filled, liquor-fueled, spanx-ridden love fest in the form of my cousin’s wedding.  It was a lovely affair, thanks in no small part to my dance moves which have been described by strangers as “aggressive,” “upsetting,” and “I think she’s hurt.”

However, before I could make it out to the dance floor, I made a rather disturbing discovery about my brother, John.

John and I are very close, almost like brothers, but better because I am a girl.  He is only two years older than I am, but significantly less attractive.  We share a lot, but never sandwiches.  He has this weird obsession with chicken that could only be described as completely unhealthy which I realize is unrelated but honestly, it’s incredibly strange and I’m worried.

I thought I knew everything about my brother, that is, until I hopped on an authentic ol’ Boston Trolley this past Saturday, and learned the truth.

I was busy taking self portraits featuring my face that will likely be worth a lot of money very soon, and unfortunately, glimpses of surrounding family members occasionally appeared in the periphery of the photo.  I was admiring one picture in particular, thinking about how I was going to crop John out of the image, when it hit me: John was in the picture TWICE.

Except one of the Johns was wearing a big dumb hat, and was glued to the side of the bus.

I made eye contact with my brother – or maybe it was the poster – and only saw fear, but I knew what I had to do.

I had to tell everyone that my brother has been sneaking off to Boston to pose in Minute Men garb for weird promotional images for the Old Town Trolley Tour.

Cool hobby, dork.


Hello, brother(s).