Honey! I’m home…!
Whew! It is crazy hot here in Hollywood. How have you survived? I’m this close to envying the Donner Party.
[Sets luggage down.]
Where have I been? Didn’t you see the Post-It note I left on our autographed portrait of Gunnar de Frumerie?
What do you mean you were struck blind by the Lord Our God while traveling the Road to Damascus? Are you crazy?
Yes, I know Labor Day traffic on I-5 is maddening, but I hardly think a detour through Syria was good idea. And anyhow, I wrote the note in Braille, so that’s no excuse for not reading it.
[Takes off shoes and unbuttons shirt.]
Anyway, I don’t want to fight.
I’ve been in Santa Barbara over the weekend. I was at a wedding for some of Corey’s friends. It was hot there, too, but at least we were on the coast, so it was beautiful.
Oh, a funny thing happened that continues a strange theme in my recent blogs. One of the humans attending the wedding was Octavia Spencer – a total sparkplug, very quick with the one-liners – and, as she was introduced to my small group, she lowered her sunglasses at me and said:
“Whoa! You have some pretty eyes! Hoo!”
Which makes two times this week that an obscure female comedian has commented on my optical globes. I know, right? What exactly are my pheromones excreting? Too funny.
[Screams and flails madly, knocking over bottles of various vanity needs.]
What the hell? I can’t see! I can’t see!
[Runs cold water over eyes; pants.]
Why… was there… salsa… in my acne face wash bottle?
What do you mean you ran out of Tupperware? Doesn’t salsa come in its own jar?
Oh, you made it from scratch?
Why didn’t you just…
Oh, don’t. Don’t cry. Of course I appreciate that you made me fresh salsa. I just wish you would’ve, y’know, not stored it in my beauty-care products.
Forgive me. I didn’t mean to yell. It was the jalapenos burning my pupils talking.
I love you.
Do we have any chips?
Okay, so… Seeing Ms. Spencer reminded me that I’ve been meaning to tell you about my new favorite TV show, “The Minor Accomplishments of Jackie Woodman”.
It’s written by and stars Laura Kightlinger, who is most rad. She’s been a writer for Saturday Night Live (and guest-appeared on it, too) amongst other notable screen credits, plus has the dubious distinction of having dated the stupefying Jack Black.
Her show is one of two original programs produced by the IFC cable channel.
[Fixes a slightly dirty Grey Goose martini with two olives.]
Let me tell you… It is THE ANSWER to those of us who love “Absolutely Fabulous”. Anyone who loves AbFab is almost certain to take to it; there are many parallels, except that, instead of two British women who drink and snort their way through the messy world of high fashion, we have two American women who drink and snort their way through the Hollywood film industry.
It is fresh. It is funny. You never know what’s going to happen next, except you know you will laugh as it happens. I cannot recommend it highly enough.
It’s low budget, but they work that to their advantage. It’s grittiness is not only appropriate to the world they’ve created, but adds to its appeal.
If you’re like me, it will leave you wishing you could hang out with Jackie Woodman as she blithely makes her way through every bad choice and self-destructive whim with the wit and poise of a central-European countess.
[Sheds exoskeleton and lays a few eggs; sets empty martini glass in sink.]
Anyway, I insist you check it out. I haven’t been this excited about a TV show since “Deadwood”.
Deadwood… Come back to me…
[Slithers into a hole in the wainscoting and listens to iPod before falling asleep to the dulcet tones of Annette Hanshaw.]