First of all, thank you so much to everyone in Fug Nation for the outpouring of love and support for me in this really heartbreaking time. The e-mails and the tweets helped me get through putting my hand on the cheek of the funniest, driest, most brilliant, most skilled, most unforgettable person I will ever know, and telling him goodbye; helped me stay strong in publicly eulogizing an amazing father whose essence and importance words can’t really ever hope to capture; and are giving me immense help in trying to figure out how life goes on now. You guys are a classy, wonderful, warm bunch of people, and you’re the reasons Jessica and I enjoy what we do. If I’ve ever made you laugh, it’s because I grew up with this man, and so continuing to try and make you amazing folks laugh every day is going to be one way I can honor his life.
Yesterday, as we stared down two flights with my husband and two restless toddlers — one of whom had a fever — Jessica and I were joking about whether we’d be mentally capable of writing anything coherent for GFY this week. Well, actually, first we were joking about how my father used to tease her that he just knew she was slacking off and that he clearly needed to keep her in line — and thus how delighted he’d be that on the day of his memorial, she willfully did absolutely no work at all, in his honor. But then I was saying that I felt like I’d be super rusty coming back, and cracked that my first post would be something really short and terrible, like, “Pants what?”
And then this happened: