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  My strongest memories from the Lab include the forever lesson that you have to drink half as much as you would at lower altitudes, because altitude sickness is REAL. I found myself crying unexpectedly, dehydrated constantly, and the one mixer where I had two drinks instead of one (bringing the feeling up to four drinks) I gushed a little too hard to each showrunner about how big of a fan I was. Way to go, Hughes. Looking totally chill and not at all like they made a mistake inviting you.

  But mostly I remember feeling like I was so close to finally realizing a dream. Jenni Konner posted a photo with Lyle and me, captioned “flanked by the future of television,” to her Instagram, and I really believed it. I still do. I realize that so much of my life is seeking validation that won’t come for some reason or another, but in my twenties I’ve finally realized that success doesn’t exist. The moment you feel successful, there ambition is, ready to belittle the achievements thus far in favor of striving for what’s next.

  In this career of mine I’ve befriended so many people who have amassed moments of major success and still feel like they could be doing “more.” I have a friend who won an Academy Award for her documentary when she was just twenty-seven years old. I have friends who have written songs that millions of people know, but they feel like if they don’t also sell a TV show then none of it was worth it. I haven’t met Michelle and Barack Obama yet, but I would love to ask them if they ever feel like being the president and first lady of America for eight years was enough success or are we all doomed to confuse contentment with complacency?

  The last day of the Sundance Labs, we had meetings with development heads at huge networks and streaming platforms. One such person asked Lyle and me what our dream was.

  “To write and star in our own show,” Lyle said, knowing the length at which we’d talked about this together in all the writing and bicoastal Skype calls leading up to us getting chosen for the program.

  “Be careful what you wish for. You’re going to get all of it,” he told us. It’s been a few years since, and I am working on writing and starring in my own projects. I’m not there yet. I am not king of the castle. But when I am, what’s next?

  Acknowledgments

  This book wouldn’t have been possible without the help of my sister Natasha and my mother, Marilynn, who supported my commitment to telling the truth, while also shielding me from lots of familial drama during the writing process. Thank you for that. Good lookin’ out.

  All of my love to my niece and nephews, Cameron, Mason, Nadia, Li’l Bo, and Nick. You give me hope for the next generation and you’re so dang cute!

  To my amazing editor, Casey McIntyre, I’m grateful for your patience and helpful suggestions that helped me do justice to my memories and comedy. You’ve created a monster, but, like, a cute one.

  My agents and team at ICM, Katie Kolben, Ayala Cohen, Tina Dubois, Rory Platt, Kaitlyn Flynn, and Sarah Kelly, thank you for taking a chance on me years ago and negotiating above your commission always. Love y’all to the moon and back.

  I’d be remiss if I forgot to thank Berea College, Billy Wooten, Upright Citizens Brigade, Casey Neistat, John Green, Barack and Michelle Obama, the Sundance Labs, USC’s Annenberg Lab, YouTube Black, Dodai Stewart, Brendan Kennedy, my hair braider Sonia, my local bodega, my mattress, and several good playlists on Spotify. It took a lot to get here, and you all helped immeasurably along the way.

  Beyoncé, a steady character in my life for nearly two decades, I won’t forget how you dropped self-titled right after I got dumped, or Lemonade coming out in the middle of my health crisis. You’re a real one, Bey. You blew me a kiss at OTR II tour and magical things have been happening to me ever since. Thank you.

  And a very special thanks to the doctors at Mount Sinai, especially Dr. Myron Schwartz, who didn’t let me die in surgery in the middle of all this book writing. That would have been a real mess! Thank you for taking a black woman’s pain seriously and saving my life.

  And anyone who’s looking for their name and not finding it, thank you so much for caring.

  About the Author

  Akilah Hughes is a writer, comedian, and YouTuber residing in Brooklyn, NY. She's been a digital correspondent for MTV, Fusion, Comedy Central, Crooked Media, and more. A Sundance Labs Fellow, Akilah most recently appeared on the HBO series special Pod Save America. Her comedic YouTube channel, "It's Akilah, Obviously!" has amassed more than 150,000 subscribers. Find her on Twitter @AkilahObviously or on Instagram @akilahh.

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  * We’d lost many fish to overfeeding thanks to the Adventures of Mary-Kate & Ashley VHS tapes that showed them feeding their fish before embarking on every adventure. In hindsight, we should have never been trusted with feeding fish the right amount when none of us was even feeding ourselves the right amount of food. Piles of Doritos would have been a fitting sponsor of my childhood.

  * Ricky Martin’s since-forgotten song “Shake Your Bon-Bon” was blowing up the charts, and we’d hold Bunbun’s front paws, change the words to fit his name, and dance around every single time it came on the radio like any of your favorite ’90s feel-good family films. Or that time Bunbun was aggressively humping my calf and I had no idea what was happening and was screaming at my mom to stop the madness but she couldn’t stop laughing.

  *Do they still make yearbooks? What would be the point? You follow everyone you know on Instagram and then eventually you are Facebook friends fighting about politics and wondering why you even know them still and deciding to only go on the site on your birthday to say thanks for the birthday wishes in a vague status update that lets everyone know you’re still alive but also not there for anything more than that.

  * For those reading who may not be familiar with the bonnet situation, it is less Bo-Peep and more shower cap in nature. Basically, black hair is dainty and will break off if it rubs up against harsh cotton pillowcases. To keep curls intact and frizz-free, a satin bonnet is donned at night. It absolutely will slip off, causing you to wake up, blindly locate it, and resituate it on your head. Ritualistic in nature, it may seem exotic to those content to put their wet hair in a messy bun and pass out.

  * We know that the Berenstain Bears had a very classic and sophisticated wardrobe for bedtime, but we didn’t actually believe that white people dressed like Ebenezer Scrooge on Christmas Eve, no matter how funny it is to think about.

  * Nutty Professoring means playing all the parts yourself in full costume and voice changes. You really gotta commit.