A Degree in Comedy

Today I saw an article in the Huffington Post about getting a degree in comedy from Columbia College in conjunction with Second City. If this program was offered when I was applying to college I would have been on the first flight to Chicago. Then again, back in the early 2000s I had no idea how insanely absurd my life would end up or how desperately I would need to craft the art of comedic story writing.

I am 28 (almost 29) years old, live with my parents, work a job that pays too little and spend my weekends hanging out with the boys I grew up with. My mom believes those boys are the reason I'm still single. "A nice guy isn't going to approach you if you're always with THEM".

I do have a solid group of girlfriends too. You know, the kind of girlfriends you make in a freshman dorm, pee in alleys with, order late night take-out with, take your first pregnancy test with and promise you'll be friends with till the end of time. And we will be; friends till the end that is. We call ourselves a club. Most of the girls have done their share of growing up. Serious boyfriends, Ivy League grad schools, babies & marriages have filled the past few years of club life. Hell, even the lesbians of the group are starting to chat about future nursery schools.

Don't get me wrong, I want to grow up. Really I do! But, I just can't seem to figure out how.

The day to day occurrences of my life are the makings of a really sad story. Tagline "A girl who never got her shit together". But if I got my degree in comedy I'd turn it into a sitcom. A Seinfeld meets Friends meets Modern Family meets Sex And The City type of show.

Editor's Note: I did take a script writing class in grad school. I got an A. At the end of the semester I was asked out by the instructor. He had a film degree from USC so I said yes. (Having spent my high school years watching Dawson Leary apply to film school, I felt I had no choice but to say yes!) After few dates and an encounter with Murphy Bed (Uncle Jesse style) the relationship came to a screeching halt.

I can fill at least four seasons with stories like this about dweebs I've dated, friends I have and my neurotic family. I'm telling you, I'm a living, breathing sitcom!

Editor's Note 2.0: Despite my Dawson reference, I always have been and always will be Team Pacey.