I can’t say I wish I had more time to write here, because I’m pretty happy with what is keeping me so busy right now. But it’d be nice to have more time here to write down what life has been like, mostly for me to have later (because this is supposed to be a diary, after all). I’m back at work on the Oxygen show for a few weeks, doing rewrite work on the pilot, and that has been much more fun than I could have predicted. I’m finishing a recap. I’m finishing the latest draft of the WGAW screenplay. I’m working on the book revisions. And in a couple of days I leave for Aspen. Continue reading
Sometimes the week gets away from me, in terms of this website. When that happens, when a huge week goes by and I haven’t been writing about it, the thought of trying to catch up can seem quite daunting. I’m having one of those weeks when I wonder why we have this relationship, you and I, where I talk about what’s going on and you sometimes write back to tell me you agree or don’t agree or hate me or think I’m funny, or that one guy who constantly asks me to send him pictures of my calves. Continue reading
The best thing I overheard the other night:
“But that’s literally what he said. The whole letter, right there. That’s literally what he said. I mean, not word-for-word, but pretty much.”
It is the most overused word of the decade. “Literally.” Everybody’s literally doing figurative things.
I am literally squirming in my seat over my plumbing problems. Our downstairs bathroom has sprung a leak again, due to some clog in the pipes underneath the house. Something to do with roots and pipes and snakes. It’s one of those things that my brain just “Blah, blah, blah Ginger”‘s because I can’t bear to know all that much about it. I just want it to work. I just want to be able to take a shower without ruining my office rug. But right now I can’t. And I won’t be able to until tomorrow.
The last time this happened we couldn’t use the bathroom at all. My pride and ego were swelled too much to drive somewhere to pee, and I ended up getting sick and then getting an infection. So, pee freely, my sisters. And I’m only talking to the women right now, since you men get to just piss all over anything and everything and it’s socially acceptable.
I mean, you get to literally piss all over everything.
So, here we are. One year later. Let me just get this out of the way first: I missed you, too. I missed you very much, actually. It was lonely without you around. After all those days spent complaining that you guys were too much to handle, I felt like a mom who had finally gotten all of her kids off to college. The house was empty and too quiet.
And like a mom who finally gets her wish come true, I got bummed out and watched too much Oprah. Continue reading
how i became pamie
My name was almost Amanda.
That’s what my mother wanted to name me. Amanda. Well, maybe I would have been called Mandy. I knew a few Amandas growing up, one of which got the horrible nickname “May-May.” (I’ve lived in the deep south, as you can see).
My father was the one who decided I would be named “Pam.” I think that was it. Just “Pam.” When my mother asked why not Amanda he replied, “Because it sounds like a refrigerator.”
But there was no further argument.