The sweet sirens of Showbiz have called me back!
They whispered something about long hours, shitty pay, and the likelihood of verbal and emotional abuse. And, well, I couldn’t resist.
Of course, I’m really not qualified to do anything else either. My skill-set is limited to spending months at a time in a room with people who get paid to make shit up. I do not deal in facts. I do not deal in goods. Only that which can be fabricated by deeply unhappy people who are fantastically rich. I aspire to be one of them. By my count, I’m halfway there.
During my five month involuntary hiatus, what I missed most was being cold. Like blow into your hands to stay warm cold. Or wear a hoodie and a scarf and wool socks, and a beard and a cat cold. All while it’s absolutely sweltering outside. Like, people are fucking dying in the valley it’s so hot.
I remember the last time I was as cold as I am today. It was February, maybe ninety-two degrees outside, and our show had just wrapped. I was wearing mittens and watching the steam rise from the coffee on my desk. I thought I might have pneumonia.
Then I spent the next five months like a common transient. I sweat my days away, barely able to wear pants, wondering at what point does a pituitary gland become a breached levee. Then I thought about Katrina. No, not that Katrina. Katrina from Crazy Girls. She sweats quite a bit too.
But now I’m gainfully employed, and it’s frigid, and it’s beautiful. Sometimes I have to sit on my hands just to get the blood flowing back into them. But it’s not all good. One among us, the boss’s assistant, has been coughing for months. It’s a deep and bronchial cough. I don’t think she’ll overcome it. Not even with a scarf, multiple layers, hot tea and a supportive staff that says, “If you’re that sick, why don’t you just stay home?”
Because she knows better. Stay home and the next day, you’ll find there’s a different name on your parking space.
Just kidding. That would be absurd. No assistants have their own parking spots.
But you get my point. Take one afternoon off and you’ll find someone else at your desk. She won’t look defeated. She’ll be well-rested, twenty-two, sharply dressed and willing to take a paycheck that will require her to work for one hundred and thirty years before she pays off her undergraduate student loans.
I look back now on my hiatus – which I might call a sabbatical depending on who I’m talking to – and I think fondly of the free mornings, followed by free afternoons and free evenings. Sure, it was nice. I learned a lot about myself, but I also learned a lot about the human race which… if you’ve got a minute…
So we open on HAND unlocking a front door. In pours a group of guys. It’s sophomore year of college. They’re all smiling and healthy and not dead inside. Think of the WORKAHOLICS guys, only more middle America. But when I say middle America I don’t mean fat, or average, I mean less “marginal” – you’re still with me, right?
So it’s a loveable version of those guys just getting into nonsense in a house. Good clean college fun! No date rape! No bad mushroom trips! No nights in jail! Just a couple of dudes learning lessons about life in twenty-two minute increments.
It’s like NEW GIRL only without the girl, and the cast is younger. Or GIRLS only in LA and they’re in college and they’re dudes… O.K., it’s nothing like GIRLS, but we’re aiming for a larger audience. Less Brooklyn and more… God, what’s a place in middle America that people know, but don’t know? Springfield? Is that taken?
Let’s put it this way – it’s Any City, U.S.A. It’s America’s city. It’s — I’ve got it now, it’s Milwaukee[1]. Yes, potatoes and Cheese Heads and good American fun! With characters that can make mistakes and learn from them in hilarious ways that are easy to understand between commercials for Ford Trucks and Tampons.
So NBC, CBS, ABC, FOX – what do you think? Are you in? I don’t want to seem presumptuous, but I’m back in town and I’ve seen your fall lineups… how about a fresh face? A man of the people!
Or if it’s more marketable, and suits what the boys upstairs are looking for, a woman for the people! That’s right, I’ll get a sex change for the right Overall Deal. Hold on, let me spit in my hand – shake on it?
[1] It took me four tries to spell Milwaukee.
Exchanging Pleasantries 