Love letters to Amy Poehler

A few years ago I was crossing Castro street in San Francisco after a yoga class when I was stopped by an enthusiastic man. “Hey! You look exactly like that girl from SNL, what’s her name?,” he asks. “Amy Poehler?” I offer, as if I’ve never heard it before, while I attempt to avoid getting flattened by oncoming traffic. “Yes! That one.” He says. “You look exactly like her. Is she your sister?”

Personally I don’t see the resemblance, but I have come to accept that it’s true — I look like that girl — that girl from SNL. I’ve heard it weekly from acquaintances at my kids’ schools, strangers at Starbucks, or at the Post Office — I have a yellow-haired twin. Even my own kids ask me why I look like that woman on TV.

My face on Poehler's body. I still don't see it!

I’m not sure if it’s meant as a compliment, and often people look a bit shameful after they’ve compared me to Amy, adding a sheepish and obligatory, “You look just like her, but – um -prettier.” Regardless of the spirit in which it is offered, Poehler has made me proud to be her twin. She is a comic super-shero and truth be told, I’d rather be associated with her genius any day than with some beautiful pseudo-celeb known for her Jamaican dance hall ass.

When I cracked open Tina Fey’s book, Bossypants, I was tickled to read the chapter titled: I Don’t Care If You Like It (One in a series of love letters to Amy Poehler). I was even more elated to read Tina’s retelling of her first real connection with Amy.

“Amy Poehler was new to SNL and we were all crowded into the seventeenth-floor writers’ room, waiting for the Wednesday read-through to start. There were always a lot of noisy ‘comedy bits’ going on in that room. Amy was in the middle of some such nonsense with Seth Meyers across the table, and she did something vulgar as a joke. I can’t remember what it was exactly, except that it was dirty and loud and “unladylike.”

Jimmy Fallon, who was arguably the star of the show at the time, turned to her and in a faux-squeamish voice said, “Stop that! It’s not cute! I don’t like it!”

Amy dropped what she was doing, went black in the eyes for a second, and wheeled around on him. “I don’t Fu*#ing care if you like it.” Jimmy was visibly startled. Amy went right back to enjoying her ridiculous bit.”

With that one exchange, Amy created her own little world of equality. It didn’t take a thesis paper or a lecture on feminism. Not a demonstration, a letter to the editor or a lawsuit. While those approaches all have their own merit, they lack the succinct power that showing up at the writer’s table with a properly placed f-bomb and a killer attitude bring. Tina explains, “With that exchange, a cosmic shift took place. Amy made it clear that she wasn’t there to be cute. She wasn’t there to play wives and girlfriends in the boys’ scenes. She was there to do what she wanted to do and she did not fu*%ing care if you like it.”

Fey and Poehler had an immediate bond. After Amy’s declaration in the writer’s room, Tina exclaims in her mind, “My friend is here! My friend is here!” Both women ended up in that writer’s room for one reason — because they are both crazy talented, hilarious people. Fey and Poehler were flanked by other amazing female talent during their time on SNL: Maya Rudolph, Kristen Wiig, Ana Gasteyer and Ratchel Dratch, all of whom fearlessly approached humor through an equal opportunity filter. They moved speedily past the idea that women are too genteel, precious or innocent to be irreverently hilarious. They knew the rules of the playground – the only thing that is really offensive is not being funny. Girls, we’ve been missing out. You see — there’s a whole bevy of offensive words and crass humor that’s been off limits to us for centuries. And it would seem according to Amy’s approach, that time has passed.

She gives us a clue on how to approach this brave new world of approaching humor for women in her interview for Bust magazine (ironic, I know). She said, “What I’ve been doing now is getting my agents to send me scripts that are written for guys. Because sometimes when guys write for women, they freeze up. I had this friend who said he had trouble writing for women, and I said, ‘Here’s my advice: call the guy Larry the whole time, and at the end change it to Susan.’ Cause there’s no difference, really.”

In addition to proving they could play with the big boys of comedy, this group of women also went where no man had ever thought of going before — digging deep into the world of women, mining for comedic treasure. They have blessed us with fem-inspired sketches such as: Mom Jeans, Annuale, Brownie Husband, and Kotex Classic, to name a few . Amy, Tina and the gang knew what they liked, and were confident as they went on to unabashedly prove Mr. Jim Belushi and the ‘ol comic boys club wrong for saying, “Women are fundamentally not funny.”

Tina lays it all out succinctly, “I suggest you model your strategy after the old Sesame Street film piece “Over! Under! Through!” (snip) If your boss is a jerk, try to find someone above, or around your boss who is not a jerk. If you’re lucky, your workplace will have a neutral proving ground — like the rifle range or the car sales total board or the SNL read-through. If so, focus on that. Again, don’t waste your energy trying to educate or change opinions. Go “Over! Under! Through! And opinions will change organically when you’re the boss. Or they won’t. Who cares? Do your thing and don’t care if they like it.”

When it’s all said and done, I wish I were worthy of the comparison to Amy Poehler. I wish the comparison was not based on my face, but because I was effortlessly witty and wickedly funny. Only in my dreams could I hold my own at a writer’s table with Jimmy Fallon or host SNL. But hey — I’m working on it. And while I may never be a comedienne or a witty conversationalist, I can certainly pay attention to my own neutral proving ground in life. I can do my thing, do it well, and not fu*%ing care who doesn’t like it.