The other day, at dinner, I told the legendary queen of comedy Phyllis Diller that Amy Poehler and I were working together. Diller swirled her martini with a long skinny finger and said, "That's the blonde from SNL, right? I'm still funnier than she is." She took a sip, then added, "Looking. Funnier looking."

Poehler and I quickly became friends on the set of the film Spring Breakdown. We would pass the time playing a game called 'freeze,' whereby you take an object (in this case, a fake ice cube made out of silicone that we found on set) and take turns re-imagining what the object could be. "I told the doctor these were too small for my boobs and could fall out of my nipple hole!" I said, rolling the gelatinous cube out of my bra. "Freeze!" Poehler said, grabbing the cube and placing it on her wedding ring finger saying: "Ya, Puff got this for me on our anniversary. It's like, somewhere around 1,000 carts, yo. That's more than Bugs's refrigerator on pay day!"

Another time, at a performance by '80s cover band the Spazzmatics in Southern California, Poehler was so rallied by the idea of an all-girls mosh pit that she grabbed hands with some other ladies on the dance floor and swung around in a circle like a vagi-go-round. Then, at the height of the moment they all let go and their bodies collided with the mess of men, emo comb-overs, and misplaced jocks, like ballerinas with machete limbs, flailing and screaming through the crowd. My bloody nose was well worth witnessing this.

Now, it's a Sunday afternoon and Amy Poehler is fresh but fatigued after another grueling night at Saturday Night Live. Her baby bird face is chirping through her nest of natural blonde, as she tries with all her might to stay awake and attentive. She only has a few hours to complete this photo shoot before she has to take off to yet another evening performance at The Upright Citizen's Brigade Theatre, this time with her all-star improv group, Assscat. I don't really know where to begin my line of questioning. It all suddenly seems very formal with a pad of paper in my hand and a tape recorder riding shotgun. But having gorged myself on CNN that morning, I decide to try my hand at hard journalism:

"What is your stance on stem cell research?" I ask, while she examines an army of cupcakes laid out for our photo shoot. "One hundred percent pro," her voice twinkles. "But for cosmetic purposes only. We've got to do something about this age thing!"

We talk in between prop set-ups and makeup touch-ups, mostly about her 15-year career and her struggles and accomplishments along the way. After moving to New York City in 1996, she survived by waiting tables and starring as Andy Richter's stalker sister in sketches on the Late Night With Conan O'Brien Show. "The Conan bits paid my rent," she says. "I did the waitressing for the art of it." Amy co-founded The Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre in New York and recently opened a new theater in Los Angeles. The next step, as she puts it, is "world domination. We want to have the first comedy theater on the moon. It's only a matter of time, Amber, before we all live on the moon."

She has three films coming out this spring: Blades of Glory, Mr. Woodcock, and ("a docu-drama about my life") Shrek 3. In Blades, Poehler and real-life husband Will Arnett (a moment of silence for TV's beloved Arrested Development, please) star as a ferociously competitive brother/sister ice-skating duo, whose relationship borders on incest. "Will and I had a blast. Our characters would role-play, sometimes pretending to be JFK and Marilyn Monroe slapping each other and taking drugs. We had to find a way to differentiate between the two Wills [Ferrell and Arnett] so we started calling them 'A-Train and F-Bomb'. Arnett was A-train and Ferrell was F-bomb. Duh. F-bomb is such an incredible person to work with. Such a good person. You know someone who balances talent with goodness? It's hard to do. His talent and goodness are of equal measure. I love him. He's a super hard worker and more than anyone, completely deserves his success."

Poehler's accomplishments go far beyond the stage and screen. She once judged a High Times cannabis contest held in Amsterdam. "But I don't imbibe in that anymore," Poehler says, to a chorus of "yeah rights" in the background. "But I think everyone that reads NYLON should. Just to get through this article."

"I don't remember anything about that contest," she continues. "I don't even know if there was a winner. I have no idea how I got home. Maybe I didn't. Maybe this has all been some really weird dream while I'm passed out in an alley in Amsterdam, still high."