books! and crackheads.

Over 350 books and a thousand dollars have already been sent to the Harrison County Library System. Thank you so much for being so good.

A long time ago, while listening to Power 106, stee and I talked about how important the cowbell is to that radio station. First of all, it sounds like sixty people are in that little room, all talking over each other, cheering whenever one of them says “Compton!” or “Holla!” Like, I’m pretty sure there’s a cheerleading team in there. And then, through it all, the sound of the cowbell.

“Who do you think rings that cowbell?” stee once asked when we were driving.

“I imagine it’s this tiny little crackhead guy, in the corner. All he can do is clanga-clanga-clanga.”

“Aw. I love Crackhead Cowbell.”

Sunday night, while watching Entourage, there’s a scene inside the Power 106 studio. “Look! It’s Power 106!” I said to stee.

“Aw,” he said, disappointed. “They’re pushing a button for the cowbell.”

“Yeah, that is disappointing.”

A few minutes passed. “Do you think they couldn’t get him?” stee asked.

“Who?”

“Crackhead cowbell.”

I took a moment. “Stee. We made him up. Remember?”

I saw him remember. I saw his face fall like I had told him about Santa. I quickly backtracked. “You know how much Crackhead Cowbell probably asked to be on the show? He knows he IS Power 106. He was like, ‘Y’all just try and do it without me. Push a button. I’ll go smoke some crack.”

He smiled. “Yeah, that’s probably what happened.”

“Crackhead Cowbell is better than this.”

Another minute passed. stee asked, “But doesn’t the radio station make enough money to pay for whatever he wants? I mean, he’s probably under contract. Why didn’t they make him be on the show?”

“Stee,” I said, trying not to get sucked into this weird vortex. “It’s Entourage that wouldn’t pay for him. We’re watching a show that’s not real.”

I saw it on stee’s face before he caught himself. “Dude, I know that.”

He not only was looking for Crackhead Cowbell, he couldn’t understand why Power 106 wouldn’t make sure The CC got to meet Aquaman. This is my husband. He’s awesome.

this is a reminder to myself

This entry is for me. I don’t want to forget today, as I’m home now, thinking about everything that happened that led me to here.

I wake up in this house that is mine, that I own, with my husband. He lets me sleep in. I get to work early. I drink coffee. Email. More email. I work on my script. I take a moment to give a friend and her family a tour of the lot, driving a cart through Stars Hollow, around the ER set. This is my daily life, these places that used to exist solely on my television. I’m on the other side now, and I am incredibly grateful. I hope it lasts. Also, I get a weird thrill out of driving the cart. Read more

Apoplex, Please!

Hey, here’s a bad idea: watching this week’s episode of Six Feet Underif you’ve ever had anyone in your life die. Jesus Christ, that was painful.

Work went late tonight. Had to cancel dinner plans. We’re officially in production now.

One of the things I do miss about my pre-television life is my lunch schedule. Every day the writing stopped at one (stee likes to keep things to a pretty tight schedule), and we sat for lunch with The Daily Show. Right now I have an episode on pause. I haven’t watched this show in what feels like months. The set is different. It’s different watching it late at night. I’m by myself. It’s just not the same. And for some reason, this pretty new redesign is much more intriguing than watching a week-old daily show episode with Joe Biden by myself on the couch. Read more

do not curb appraise

Running through my neighborhood today, I passed a sign outside a house for sale. Underneath the three signs with phone numbers and information about the realtor, there was a tiny sign dangling from the bottom, on hooks. It said:

“I’M GORGEOUS INSIDE.”

In Los Angeles, even the houses need validation. Read more

on the way home.

[scripty]
EXT. LOS ANGELES STREET — DAY

A YOUNG WOMAN WAITS AT THE CROSSWALK, FIDDLING WITH HER PURSE, LOST IN THOUGHT. A YOUNG, ATTRACTIVE, AFRICAN-AMERICAN MAN APPROACHES HER. HE’S HOLDING A PIECE OF PAPER AND A PENCIL, LIKE HE HAS BEEN INTERRUPTED.

MAN
I just saw you in the bookstore, and I wanted to come out here… I never do this… and I don’t mean anything by this, I just had to tell you… you are a beautiful woman.

WOMAN
Oh! Thank you.

SHE TUCKS BACK HER HAIR, LOOKS HIM OVER AND IS SURPRISED AT HOW NORMAL HE LOOKS, AS THIS NEVER HAPPENS TO HER WITH SOBER STRANGERS.

MAN
No, really. I just… I had to tell you. Just so, I don’t know why I had to tell you. But I did. I needed to. You needed to know. Not that… I don’t know.

WOMAN
Thanks.

MAN
What’s your name?

WOMAN
Pam.

SHE THINKS: SHOULD HAVE SAID “PAMELA.” SOUNDS MUCH PRETTIER. WHY DOES IT MATTER? IT DOES.

MAN
I’m Christopher.

WOMAN
Nice to meet you.

THE LIGHT TURNS GREEN. SHE STEPS ONTO THE CURB.

MAN
Uh, hey! Where are you from?

WOMAN
I live around here.

SHE DOESN’T. BUT IT SOUNDS BETTER THAN “I’M MARRIED.”

WOMAN (cont)
Have a nice day, Christopher. And thanks.

MAN
I live around here too! Maybe I’ll see you.

WOMAN
Bye.

FLASHBACK

INT. CROWDED HOLLYWOOD MOVIE THEATER — THAT MORNING

THE YOUNG WOMAN IS WATCHING A TRAILER. THE STRANGER NEXT TO HER NUDGES HER ELBOW.

STRANGER
(GESTURING TO SCREEN)
I worked on that.

WOMAN
Hey, congratulations!

THE TRAILER CHANGES TO ONE WITH A SERIOUSLY HOT BRUNETTE WOMAN TAKING OFF HER BRA. THE WOMAN NUDGES THE MAN.

WOMAN
That’s me.

THE STRANGER HOLDS UP HIS FIST FOR HER TO DAP. SHE PUNCHES IT LIGHTLY.

END OF FLASHBACK

INT. CORNER STORE – A FEW MINUTES LATER

THE CASHIER INCORRECTLY RINGS UP THE WOMAN’S PURCHASE. IT SAYS $0.71.

WOMAN
I’ll take it!

CASHIER
Oh, ha-ha! I see you have the money, though.

THEY STARE AT THE CASH IN HER HAND.

WOMAN
Looks like I do.

MAN
Tell you what. You keep coming here, and if you ever don’t have enough, I’ll give it to you for seventy-one cents.

WOMAN
Oh.

MAN
I’m serious. Today you have the money, but you might not tomorrow. And that’s when you can just take it. For you. Just promise to come back and see me again.

WOMAN
Well, thank you.

WOMAN WALKS BACK TO HER CAR WONDERING, “WHAT THE HELL? THIS STUFF NEVER HAPPENS TO ME. MARRIAGE SURE DOES MAKE YOU ATTRACTIVE TO OTHER PEOPLE. EITHER THAT, OR I MUST REMEMBER TO WEAR THIS HOT PINK TANK TOP EVERY DAY FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.”
[/scripty]

matter and antimatter

I spent the morning watching What the Bleep Do We Know, a movie with a very silly name, a Yanni-esque website, and a scene with a ridiculous wedding interlude, but a movie that got in my head nonetheless. It attempts to explain quantum physics in the most layman’s terms, relating it to our perception of our universe. Read more

rule of pam: the worse you look, the more likely you will run into old friends

There is never a good time for you to wear your own t-shirt.

I said this to stee last night as we got ready for the Rilo Kiley concert. I had just finished posting this, and realized I hadn’t worn mine yet.

“Your Wonder Killer shirt?” stee asked. “You should wear it. It’s not like it says ‘pamie.com’ on it, or anything.”

I wore the shirt, under a hoodie. stee was right. It’s not like anybody at the Wiltern would have any idea I was wearing my own t-shirt. I’d been feeling ill all day, so I pulled my hair into pigtails, wore my comfiest jeans and said, “Fuck it; we’re going to be in the dark all night.”

So, of course, the first people we run into when we hit the theater are these girls.

Ziiiiiiiip.

When seeing the girls who judge fashion as a serious hobby for the first time in probably over a year, do you:

A) Meet them with a hoodie zipped up to your neck, making you look like you might be hiding a pregnant belly.
B) Meet them wearing your own t-shirt, when they are not wearing the shirts they sold the exact same month.
C) Worry about what you look like because they’re both so cute and why didn’t you at least put on some lip gloss before you went out in public because you’re at the Wiltern. Jesus.

Answer: all of the above.

We had seats for the concert, between a row of parents watching their kids down in general admission and a row of kids who were pissed off that the show was so late they’re were going to miss it because of their curfew. Just when I thought I was done being dorky, the band brought out Debbie Gibson, and I lost all cool singing “Lost In Your Eyes” at full volume. Haven’t heard that song in — what, fifteen years at least? Sure knew every word.

(I wish she had done “Foolish Beat.”)

shallow hollywood moment #437

[scripty]
stee
Those guys sitting behind us are Paparazzi.

pamie
Really?

stee
They’re uploading images of Lindsay Lohan. They didn’t order any coffee. They’re just using the wireless.

pamie
They’re going to have to make some laws against this soon, right?

stee
After that guy smashed his car into her, probably.

pamie
They’re stalkers.

stee
It’s pretty funny.

pamie
No. It’s scary.

stee
Kinda funny.

pamie
Hey, look! Sara Gilbert!
[/scripty]