Susie Essman - What Would Susie Say?: Bullsh*t Wisdom About Love, Life and Comedy

Bullshit Wisdom about Love, Life, and Comedy

SUSIE ESSMAN

Simon & Schuster
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New York, NY 10020
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Copyright 2009 by Esswoman Productions, Inc.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Simon & Schuster Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

First Simon & Schuster hardcover edition October 2009

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Designed by Diane Hobbing of Snap-Haus Graphics

Manufactured in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Essman, Susie, date.

What would Susie say? : bullshit wisdom about love, life, and comedy / Susie Essman.

p. cm.

1. Essman, Susie, date. 2. ComediansUnited StatesBiography. 3. Actors United StatesBiography. 4. Conduct of lifeHumor. I. Title.

PN2287.E755A3 2009

792.7028092dc22

[B] 2009015661

ISBN 978-1-4391-5017-7
ISBN 978-1-4391-6809-7 (ebook)

Photos for by Michael Cogliantry;
photos for courtesy of Susie Essman;
by Lisa Berg

For Jimmy
Who makes everything better,
and knows how to finish a basement

When I was about nine years old, my parents had an album (Im referring to a round piece of vinyl, which is how we used to listen to recorded music; this was a long, long time ago, even before 8-trackwhich is a whole other story) of Sidney Poitier reciting Plato. There was a jazz combo playing music in the background while Sidney read from Platos writings and it all sounded like beat poetry. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I listened to it because I liked the rhythms and the sound of his voice. It was cool.

The only actual words I remember from Platos writings were the last line of one of the pieces. I still hear it with the jazz bass plucking away under the words And this I know that I know nothing. The fact that particular line and beat have remained in my head all these years later seems significant, but when you consider that She wore an itsy-bitsy, teenyweeny, yellow polka-dot bikini and Jeremiah was a bullfrog. He was a good friend of mine are also indelibly etched in my brain, the significance of the Plato/Sidney phrase may be diminished.

I wondered at the time, why, if hePlatoadmittedly knew nothing, did he have so much to say? Was he writing entire volumes of what he didnt know?

Now, forty-five years later, I find myself in the same predicament as Plato and Sidney. I know that I know absolutely nothing about anythingyet I have so much to say about it all. Hopefully you, the reader, will find this book containing all the things I dont know entertaining and perhaps illuminating. When reading it, try to imagine a jazz bass playing in the background. It might make it more memorable.

Writing this book has been a labor of love, and I couldnt have done it without the help of the following people:

Larry Amoros, my dear friend, colleague, muse and sister, thank you for your invaluable contributions. You make life funnier.

Kerri Kolen, editor extraordinaire, thanks for the smart notes, great taste, support, and encouragement from way back when.

David Rosenthal, the Grand Poohbah of Simon & Schuster, thanks for being the rabbi of this project.

Jackie Seow, for your inspired art direction, as well as Michael Cogliantry, Jeff Gautier, Chad Kincaid, Morgan Bogle, and Paul Nardi for your work on the book jacket.

Lydia Wills, my agent. Thanks for all the not-so-gentle prodding and for making this happen. Your advice was invaluable.

Gretchen Bruggeman Rush, who leaves no stone unturned when it comes to her clients interests. Thanks for your vigilance in dotting all those is.

Lee Kernis, the capo di tutti of managers. Thanks for the wisdom and for always covering my back.

Oh no, the orchestras beginning to playmy forty-five seconds of allotted time are up? But wait! I didnt thank my husband, my kids, my siblings, my mother, my friends, everyone at Simon & Schuster, anyone who ever gave me a job...

Shit.

The music is getting louder.

I left so many people out. Is that the Curb Your Enthusiasm theme theyre playing? It sounds so weird with violins.

Damn it! Theres the cane.

Gotta go.

Enjoy.

Susie Essman

New York City

May 31, 2009

Our heads are round so that thoughts can change direction.

Francis Picabia, painter and poet
(18791953)

100 percent of shots you dont take dont go in.

Wayne Gretzky, hockey player and coach

Kish mir en toches.

Millie Essman, forewoman in a button factory and grandma(18981991)

There are a number of burning questions on my mind right now: Will real estate in Manhattan rebound? Will peace in the Middle East ever be achieved? Can global warming be reversed? But by far, the most pressing question Im grappling with is, When did I become the village idiot? How did this happen to me? How did I go from being a hip single New York City comedian with an exciting life, to being a suburban hausfrau with a finished basement and car-pool responsibilities? Easy: children. Teenagers, to be precise. Let me clarify. My new husband (how long does he stay new for? When does he become the old husband?you decide, we were married in September 2008) has four children, and although technically theyre not really mine, Ive somehow acquired them, like they were on sale. FOUR!!!!! And three of them are girls. Oh, the drama!

They came into my life when they were ages ten, twelve, fourteen, and fifteen. Today, they are fifteen, eighteen, nineteen, and twenty-one. At least I think thats what they are. Its so confusing the numbers keep changing. Just when Ive got sixteen figured out, they turn seventeen and so on. All I know is that Ive been living through the teen years for half a decade and there seems to be no end in sight. I have this horrible fear that theyll all be sixteen forever, and Ill start looking like my grandma Millie by the end of the month.

Everything is upside down. I thought I was cool, smart, cutting edge. Im on a hip HBO show, I work in nightclubs, Im known for my salty tongue and irreverent point of view. Yet, now that I have teenagers, suddenly, magically, Im an idiot. Something has gone terribly awry.

In my own teen years I was surly and sarcastic and absolutely certain I knew everything, and I mean everything. When my mother would ask/request/tell me to do something, I was more than just unresponsive or snarkyI was appalled. Was