Presentation was the name of the Catholic church [my mother's family] attended, and this is what I love about the Irish: My mother became known as the second prettiest girl at Presentation parish. “Why was that okay?” I once asked her. “Oh, because everybody knew Mary Griffin was the most beautiful girl at Presentation,” she replied. My mom was happy to be on the D-list! Just like I’m not trying to be Brooke Shields, she wasn’t trying to be Mary Griffin.

One of my recurring D-list moments is when people stop me in the airport and tell me they loved me on SNL. I never know if they think I’m Molly Shannon, Cheri Oteri, or Chris Kattan. I just say “Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed me as Mango.

Mom’s a hypochondriac, too, so the best part was that every week she would get the disease that the medical shows were dramatizing. I’ll never forget, they did an episode on sickle cell anemia, which as far as I know, is almost exclusively an African-American affliction.

I can honestly say, with complete disappointment, that I have never purged in my life, because I have what I call a barfing disorder. Every time I puke, even when I’m sick with the flu or from food poisoning, I think I’m going to die. Weird, I know. No disrespect to you, Mary Kate. Rock on.

I honestly never once heard them fight. They yelled at us kids all the time, but never at each other. My siblings and I joke to this day about how the reason we have trouble in relationships is because we never learned how to fight from our parents.

My mother’s father was just called “The Governor,” or “Himself.” Which, if you have sixteen kids, probably isn’t as crazy as it sounds.

To this day, the behavior of straight men is something I’ve never been able to wrap my head around. Have you ever met one? They’re really weird. Sometimes they want to have sex without A Chorus Line playing in the background. Yuck. How is that even possible?

This one guy Roland was so weird that during sex his voice altered—as if he were a fucking alien—and he started talking like a baby in a bizarre high-pitched voice. He’d start screaming shit like, “I just want to fuck my baby! I’m your baby! Will you be my baby? Baby? Baby?” For one thing, he couldn’t decide whether he was the baby or the daddy. Make up your mind, freak. I had to force myself out from under him and flee the apartment undressed, clutching my clothes.