day ten.

Some mornings, when I’m holding my sign and walking in a circle, I realize this is the second time I’ve lost my job because of the Internet. And if you count the giant day of the dot com bust where my 401K was smashed to pennies, I find that while I only have so much control over my career and my destiny, the Internet seems to be what really drives almost all the major decisions in my life. It’s very strange.

Oh, that’s not a flattering picture of my face. But I wanted to talk about Andy.

This is Andy Gordon. He’s very funny. He’s one of the sweetest, funniest guys I’ve ever been lucky enough to work with. He’s a prankster and he’s kind. Everybody loves Andy. But because he has such respect for writers, he’s also not interested in coddling. Therefore, Andy Gordon is the person who taught me what a “clam” is. He taught me by pointing out that I’d written one in my first script that was to be produced for television. He pointed it out by shouting it to everyone in the room.

You see, a clam is not a good thing. Continue reading

name dropping at cingular…

I was on hour “Forget It” with my Cingular phone, and gave one last call to try and figure out if there was anything I could to to resolve the fact that my Treo doesn’t send or receive email.

The support rep on the phone couldn’t hear me, and asked if he could call me on a land line. I gave him my office number.

“Um,” he said after I answered. “Is that…? The receptionist… Are you really working at Mind of Mencia?” Continue reading

Hipster Bars, Jollibee, and Casablanca.

See, just two days ago, on the flight home, we were discussing Ray.

We don’t see Ray enough.

Because he calls three minutes before he’s going somewhere to invite us to come with him. “Um… I’m going to this bar, on Santa Monica? There’s going to be a gospel band–”

“– and a chicken who plays checkers?”

“And there’s free drinks for fifteen minutes, so y’all should come.”

“I’ll put you on the door.”

And you’re like, “Ray. I’m at my wedding.”


I know. Still.
Continue reading

TV Alert — I wrote it!

One more chance to see my name on your television screens:

Hot Properties: Grrr…

Ava wonders if her happy marriage is in trouble and feels a little guilty when sparks fly between her and a client named Alec (Harry Hamlin) who, like her, has a much younger partner. Meanwhile Chloe, who wants a guy who’s more of a tiger than a pussycat, thinks her wish has come true when she meets a strong but silent bodyguard; Lola wonders if her new boyfriend will be able to look past their extremely different cultures; and Sellers has his own reasons for not wanting to set Emerson up with his friend.

Tonight on ABC at 9:30, 8:30 Central

My name and Harry Hamlin’s name. Together at last.

Tell your TiVo.

The Room

The Writers Room is empty.

I’m used to this certain sound when I sneak back here to check my cell phone or see if someone emailed — this sound of laughter bouncing down the hallway from the other end of the building, calling me back, letting me know that I just missed out on something funny. That sound isn’t going to happen again, and I hate that. Continue reading

really? really?

I was all set to write the cute little entry called “cancelled/not cancelled,” which was about my pro and con lists for what might happen with the rest of my year and into April, based off of what ABC wants to do with Hot Properties. It involved visiting friends, reading books, getting an oil change, finally seeing the dentist and renewing my membership at the local gym so I can start swimming again. It also involved being very happy to have no time for anything other than work, because I’m finding the work to be something I might be good at, so I really don’t want it to end. Mostly I don’t want to get cancelled because I’d miss the people I work with an awful lot.

But whatever. Fuck it. I don’t really want to write that entry today.

Because stee’s car has been stolen.

We’ve spent the day driving around as if we’d be able to find it, as stee loves this car in a Timmy and Lassie way, so he let himself be led where the car was calling him. The car ultimately called him to a Chop Shop on San Fernando Road. We didn’t go in because the wreckage was a little too disturbing, but stee’s got a feeling he’s not going to see his 88 Honda Civic anytime soon.

I’ll let stee take it from here. It’s his car to mourn; I’m just pissed on his behalf.

written by…

Last Friday was a big day.

I arrived at the office early to write email. My phone rang. “Pam, you have a delivery.”

At the front desk, there’s a delivery of roses in all different colors. It’s beautiful. Suzanne says, “Now, I’ve had some experience with this. I really want these to be from your husband, but I know they’re from your agent.”

She’s right. Continue reading