“Show Day! It’s Show Day! (The Lights! The Midgets!)”

I know that most of you did not like and/or watch the show. And I know that many people in LA hate the show with a passion. Some would even ask me how I could write for it or lose all respect for me when I told them of my job (these would mostly be highly attractive women).

As long as Irwin’s going down Postmortem Memory Lane, I thought I’d pull up this one of him on set in girl clothes.

I can’t believe he didn’t tell the story of his very first day, when we had to go around the table answering some extremely personal questions concerning childhood trauma. I will never forget that look on his face.

best blurb ever.

I don’t want to ruin it by telling the joke over here, but Irwin has written a line about my book that should be on the front cover. Go read. Then come back.

(Ned-Voice) First of all (normal voice), that’s a very flattering essay (so thank you, sir).

But to give you an example of this fragile head I’ve got, when Irwin said to me that night, “There’s a lot of jokes,” here’s the rapid-fire dialogue my brain had in the three seconds between when he said that, and I said, “What does that mean?” Read more

special delivery

I had a very dork/skank moment at my front door this morning. I could hear the postman walking up the steps, but I was only in a towel, and anywhere I could have gone he would have seen me. So I stood very close to the door, hidden behind it, as these arrived: Read more

more post-mortem

I feel pretty lucky that the only time Ned ever called me on stage to introduce me to the live audience was to do an impression of a woman eating nachos, and it was between segments. Poor Irwin made it into clip show. Read more

post mortem

Friday was our last day of the second season (Season Three, coming to you at the top of next year). Many of us lingered around the office, sitting near our boxes of things, as nobody knows who will be back or when that would be. “We should be skipping out of here,” Irwin said. “And yet.”

And yet.

“I guess combat really does bond people,” he said.

“This is why soldiers re-enlist.” Read more

more excuses

I’m glad Irwin’s giving some excuses as to why the very last thing I want to do right now is write a blog entry. It’s 12:30 in the morning and I’ve just finished writing something that’s due tomorrow. This is the first night in a week that I got home from work before midnight. I got home at 11:15. I’m crazy tired. Whacked-out tired. Tired like I just realized I originally typed this without Irwin’s online pseudonym and then wondered what would happen if I’d outed him and then I giggled because I still need to get him back somehow for capping on my hair last week.

[scripty]
Pamie
Holy crap, it’s early, but we just left here and now we’re here again and do you know what we’re supposed to be writing right now?

Irwin
You look good today, pamie.

Pamie
[after a beat]
Asshole.

[Pamie runs to the bathroom and fixes her hair, which was messed up because it was cold and raining.]

Pamie
Better?

Irwin
Yes.

[a few seconds later]

Kimberly
You look lovely today.

Pamie
Would you do me a favor and tell Irwin what you just said?

Kimberly
[into phone] Why you busting on my girl?

Irwin
Did pamie tell you that she only looks lovely because I told her to pull herself together?

[I know both parts of this conversation because these two are sitting ten feet away from each other.]

Irwin
Did you see her when she came in?

Kimberly
Oh. Actually. Well. I don’t know if I should say anything, but my friends have this expression… “Rode hard and put away wet?”

Pamie
I am through with all y’all.
[/scripty]

And as Irwin mentioned, last Tuesday I thought it was Friday. Actually, just about every day this week I thought it was Friday. When you leave work on Monday when it’s actually Tuesday, it might as well be Friday. I woke up Tuesday at 5:30 (I’d gotten home at 12:30) for my 7am call thinking I was late. Full-on late-for-school-missed-a-test panic, walking down the hallway chanting, “No, my call is seven. My call is seven. My call is seven. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

So I’m sorry I’ve been away. It’s not you, it’s me. I’ve had a headache in my eye for three days. I’m gonna go try and get a couple of hours sleep.

[Note: This doesn’t mean if you’re my friend you get to stop calling or emailing, going, “Well, you seemed so busy.” I need you to call me, understand? Pretend I’m away at camp or school and this blog is the postcard I sent that says, “I’m having a great time. Please send pictures of home because I miss you.”]

office mates

I used to be very shy. A quiet girl who liked to read books and stay out of the way. I wrote a lot of stories to entertain myself, and I wrote them from inside a walk-in closet because I’m a dork. I avoided making new friends because I knew I’d end up moving, and I didn’t want to lose more friends. Read more

More Rebuttals

If all this football talk makes you snore, I’ve got some gay cowboy action for you.

Start with Irwin’s piece here (It may be the only screening of Brokeback that saw switchblades, at least in Los Angeles…). Read more