elizaskinner.net - the jambox

Last night my band, Stickerbook, played a show at Mo Pitkins in the East Village. We were the house band for a reading of Jill Soloway’s new book called Tiny Ladies In Shiny Pants*. Now, we have played tons of shows before, and have been the house band for about a mazillion others (4, actually), but this show was different. How? Why? Well, here was the running order we were given:
Opening - Stickerbook, 1-Lili Taylor reads, 2-Stickerbook, 3-Molly Shannon reads, 4-Stickerbook, 5-Amy Poehler reads, 6-Stickerbook, 7-Jodi Lennon reads, 8-Stickerbook, 9-Lauren Ambrose reads, Closer-Stickerbook

Holy Shit for real. After Jill handed us the running order and walked away we all stood huddled around it wondering what the hell we were doing there, and trying not to shit our pants. Then we ran off and made copious photocopies of it to hang on our walls and hand out on future first dates and job interviews.
I mean, Molly Shannon?? Hi, I am a woman in comedy so how do I feel about Molly Shannon? Uh, like I’m supposed to feel about Jesus. (There have been TWO “Best of SNL” DVD collections of female performers - 1) Gilda Radner, 2) MOLLY SHANNON.) LILI TAYLOR? Holy shit this woman’s career has kept me from jumping out of windows in moments of entertainment industry frustration! I mean, did you SEE Dogfight? (If you answered “no” please leave and never read my blog again.) Amy Poehler. It’s embarrassing how I feel about her.
We showed up for the show and went into the greenroom, slackjawed and clad in ridiculous outfits. The five of us huddled in the corner staring lovingly at the women in the room. We all had streams of pink hearts flying out of our eyes, so we kept looking at our shoes to keep them from splattering all over the walls embarrassingly. Having had one beer, I was ready to slap Molly Shannon on the shoulder and say “Ok, so I’m Eliza - WHAT’S UP?? Right?” but knew that there was a chance this might be “weird” so I bit my tongue. Lili Taylor still scared me, like if I went up to her and spoke my screeching garish voice would shatter her. I felt like a butterfly had landed on my shirt and I didn’t want to move and scare it off.
Amy Poehler. Super. Duper. Person.
During the show I was working out in my head what I could possibly say to Lili Taylor. I mean, I was playing a show with her, right? But I couldn’t say “my whole life I have been watching your movies” - I might as well say “hey gramma - how’s menopause?” And who wants to hear “your career is so important to me?” Boring! I don’t - I want to hear “you look so pretty today!” but would that freak her out? Is she not as shallow as me? Probably. Either way my look of fixed bewilderment while saying it would definitely make her uncomfortable.
The show, by the way, was GREAT. All the performances were super - Including us! Hey neat! And while we played, all of the other performers were in the front row laughing! They liked us! This was better than when I did stand up in front of the lady from the OBC of Mamma Mia!**

By the end of the night, I still hadn’t talked to Molly Shannon or Lili Taylor, and I am disappointed about that. But the fact that they watched my band, and that I didn’t spit up on either of them, pretty much makes up for it.

*this book is so goddamned good. Unless you are a complete asshole, this is your new favorite book. You should own a copy of your favorite book, right? What are you, a hippie? Go buy it.

**OBC means Original Broadway Cast, you plebian.

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