If you guys slept in bunk beds, and we all like to belive that you do. Would there be a fight over who’d get the top?
Tina: There wouldn’t be a fight, I feel like I would probably want the bottom? I don’t know what your preference would be. Amy: You’d want the bottom and I’d be like, “Fine, take the bottom” and I would take the top. And then at one point at night, you’d wake up and I would be next to you in the bottom.
“Amy Poehler was new to SNL and we were all crowded into the seventeenth-floor writers’ room, waiting for the Wednesday night read-through to start. Amy was in the middle of some such nonsense with Seth Meyers across the table, and she did something vulgar as a joke. I can’t remember what it was exactly, except it was dirty and oud and “unladylike”, Jimmy Fallon turned to her and in a faux-squeamish voice said, “Stop that! It’s not cute! I don’t like it.” Amy dropped what she was doing, went black in the eyes for a second, and wheeled around on him. “I don’t fucking care if you like it.” Jimmy was visibly startled. Amy went right back to enjoying her ridiculous bit. With that exchange, a cosmic shift took place. Amy made it clear that she wasn’t there to be cute. She wasn’t there to play wives and girlfriends in the boys’ scenes. She was there to do what she wanted to do and she did not fucking care if you like it.”
Tina Fey:You know, when the producers of this event first called us, last night, I said, “It’s three in the morning! Who died?” And they explained that everything was fine, it’s just that they were planning a comedy event, and no women had agreed to show up. So I said, “What award is Jerry Lewis getting?” And they said, “No, no, it’s not Jerry Lewis. It’s Don Rickles.” So I said, “Oh, Don Rickles is the best. Amy and I would love to come to your event.” And they said, “Wait, how are we calling you and Amy in the same bed?” [I said] “Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t concern you.”
Amy Poehler:So here we are, because they thought it was important for Don to be honored by at least one woman, which, apparently, is what we count as.