Not so long ago a dear co-worker friend told me that I reminded her of Amy Schumer. (She’s a dear because she’s a lovely human being…and she’s a dear because she told me that I reminded her of a super rad, famous-for-being-funny, top-of-the-charts actress and comedian.) It’s true that I tend to be the funny one, if I do say so myself. (I regularly laugh at my own jokes. Sometimes for days after I tell them.) Funny is the persona I adopted as a kid and it’s stuck into adulthood. Laughter is the best medicine — it’s trite but true. Humor can be disarming, comforting, startling, cathartic, peace-making, unifying — and, really, not much is better than delivering a well-timed joke that makes a room full of people erupt into laughter. Being funny (or, at least, trying to be funny) is just who I am. Now, my act isn’t the bold, blush-inducing stand up that Schumer’s making millions off of — that doesn’t play well at my place of employment or on the sidelines at my 8-year-old daughter’s basketball games — but I can drop a snarky, well-timed one-liner that extracts laughter from even the most serious of personalities.
So when my co-worker told me I reminded her of Amy Schumer? Well, I took her comment as a high compliment, and, I’m not going to lie — ever since then I’ve pondered the similarities. Sure, we run in different crowds and draw (drastically) different salaries for our in-the-moment improv and our well-honed jokes. But Amy Schumer and I? Turns out we’ve got a lot in common.
We’re both stacking up the accolades. The Pocono Record called Amy a “blindingly bright nova streaking through every pop-culture subset out there.” In my 2015 performance appraisal, one of my peers was quoted as saying they “appreciate my sense of humor.” I’m pretty sure they were thinking of me as an equally bright nova, but were forced to tone it down to fit into the corporate landscape.
We’ve both been critically chosen…for something. Earlier this year Amy took home an MVP award for her “hilarious body of work” at the Critics Choice Awards. Similarly, my peeps dubbed me Miss Congeniality in the 1992 Waterski Days Scholarship Pageant. (And by scholarship pageant I mean, small town beauty-like pageant complete with a swimsuit competition, a round of speeches and a beautifully choreographed song-and-dance number set to “Singin’ in the Rain.”) While they didn’t specify the exact reason I won the honor, it could very well have been for my hilarity….or my body of work.
We are both selfish with the selfies for the meanies. Amy says she’ll no longer take photos with mean fans. I’m equally over that.
We are both influencers. In 2015 Amy landed on Time Magazine’s list of 100 Most Influential People. Someone sent me an email last week that included the line “Thanks for helping to influence those guys on that decision.” Two powerhouses, Amy and I.
We both have links to cribs…and not the ones of the MTV persuasion. According to Wikipedia, Amy’s parents once owned a baby furniture company. I own baby furniture. (Thus my place on the Rochester MN Moms Blog.)
We are screenplay sistas. This is actually where we diverge ever so slightly. Amy penned the script for her hit movie Trainwreck. Not to brag, but I have actually written two highly regarded scripts. In sixth grade I co-authored a playground drama for my friends that relied heavily on Bon Jovi lyrics. And, as an adult I wrote a Thanksgiving play that was performed by my co-workers and was very well-received. No hard feelings, Ames. (That’s my nickname for Amy. She calls me….well, nothing, really because we’re not actually friends…yet. But I’d basically let her call me whatever she wanted as long as it wasn’t mean-spirited. Meanness would exclude her from selfies, per the item above. And, really, what’s a friendship without selfies?)
I could continue to highlight our similarities, but I think the point’s been made. (And I don’t want anyone to feel bad about how little they have in common with a super rad, famous-for-being-funny, top-of-the-charts actress and comedian.) Amy Schumer may have perfected her brand of raunchy, rambling stand-up but I’ve nailed my version of goofy, tangential sit-down mom com. My dear friend was right — Amy Schumer and I, we’re basically twinsies.
