20, Nov., 1990

Let me start by saying I am appreciative of all the attention Little Pam has received. It’s not just the emails, the letters and poems you’ve unearthed and started posting on your own websites, or even the Facebook fan page someone started for LP (seriously), it’s this shared feeling of mortification and anxiety I’m causing. One of my favorite sounds is hearing an audience go from slight horror to laughter. I might not get to hear your actual reactions, but I can tell by your comments and emails that I’m getting the desired effect.

So I might as well continue with the embarrassing confessions. Well, actually, let’s get the first letter out of the way. Yeah, just like last time, there’s more than one letter from November 20th. By the way, the entry titles are exactly how I dated these letters. All those commas aside, I don’t know why I thought it was so much cooler to date things like that back then. But you guys, I really thought it was awesome. Continue reading

Guns N’ Roses: G N R Lies

Song: “Patience

I have blown my voice out a number of times singing this song at the top of my lungs. It was in a sketch we did for about a year, where I was pleading through song to stop a break-up in the front seat of a car. It was the only sketch I wrote that my troupe did for a length of time.

Continue reading

aw, go ‘ohwn.

I had a meeting yesterday in the office across from the office where I had my very first feature general meeting, almost four years ago.

About thirty seconds into our conversation — and I never do this — I asked the woman I’d just met, “Are you from Texas or Louisiana?”

She stopped for a second, startled. “Both.”

I’m not a Henry Higgins by any stretch of the imagination, but I think all the trips I took last month made me nostalgic for all of the different accents in my life. Continue reading

forced perspective

This has been a hell of a week. We are in production on the episode I wrote, so every minute of the day I’m learning something. I’m very lucky that my co-workers don’t treat me like the new kid, and make me feel very much a peer. With that comes the added responsibility of not acting like the new kid. Sometimes I worry I look way too green. I’m still learning how everything works, what the expectations are, and when I’ve made a much bigger deal out of something than I need to. Continue reading

Happy Birthday, Doug


Maybe you’ve come by pamie.com today to find out why I haven’t called you yet. It would be the first time I haven’t called on your birthday in the seventeen years we’ve known each other. And this day’s even more important– this being your thirtieth birthday. You know I tried. I guess your number has changed since last year. Oddly enough, the man with your number’s name is also Doug, but different wife, different last name, and certainly a different voice than the one I’ve come to quickly identify over the almost two decades we’ve known each other.

Please call or send an email. I’m going to try to find your email address when I get home tonight. You know I would never forget your birthday.

Other Places

because there’s no time

It’s a busy day today. I was going to write all about why I cancelled my Jane Magazine subscription, but that will have to wait until tomorrow.

So, here. Read this instead. It’s the piece I wrote for Mighty Big TV about the SAG strike.

Happy Birthday, Douglas. I wish I knew where you were living these days.

Okay, back to work for me.

See you tomorrow.