My Funny Valentine

If you want to give someone a nice Valentine's Day gift, buy this book. I have an essay in it so I might be a little biased. A lot biased, even. But there are tons of funny essays in it by other humor writers as well. They made me write that before I got my copy.

I've had my jokes published in The Huffington Post, The New York Post, The New York Daily News, The Edmonton Sun, The Calgary Sun, The Toronto Sun, The Los Angeles Times, The Philadelphia Daily News, The International Herald Tribune and Stars and Stripes. They were also featured in the seminal book on women in comedy, Performing Marginality by Joanne Gilbert.

But this is the first time an essay of mine appears in a book with pages that turn, as opposed to a download. I have nothing against downloads so stop typing your comment. And I didn't have to self-publish!! Yet. It's so intellectually satisfying to wave it in front of my family and yell, "I'M ONLY GOING TO CHARGE YOU RETAIL!"

I wish my dad was still alive because he would have bought hundreds of copies.

He followed my comedy career with an enthusiasm he usually reserved for bourbon. He often penned a joke or two and would say "You can use that if you want." It was really endearing as Dad often lamented he didn't pursue a career in humor. But his generation had to work to support families. First his own, then ours. I always feel bad for people who can't pursue what they feel their gift is, what their heart wants. As someone who did, I know how lucky I am. Even though the money isn't always there, I won't be on my deathbed saying "If only I'd..." But I will be on my deathbed saying, "Now, who can put my funeral on their credit card?"

After I'd done Seinfeld, Dad was at a dinner party at his Yacht Club in St. Petersburg. I don't recall my Dad being on any yachts in his lifetime unless the Army used them in World War 2.  He was seated next to a woman who patiently listened as my Dad went on and on and ON about how funny I was as a child.

"How old is your daughter now?" She asked when Dad stopped talking long enough to take a sip of his Manhattan.
"I don't know; she won't tell me."

He was funny. Everything I got, I got from him.

So this book is for you, Dad.



P.S. I'm signing my copy of My Funny Valentine and giving it away. Leave a comment (or many for a better chance) and I'll pick a winner by Sunday and speed it your way in time for Valentine's Day. Did I mention I'm in it? No? Well, I'm in it.