So according to my mother, I’ve watched hours upon hours of The Office in preparation for my assignment of writing a teaser for the show in four hours or less. I am currently, in her imaginary world, chain-smoking, a green poker visor on my head, I’m humming John Coltrane, and typing what will be known as the world’s most funny episode ever seen on television.
Well.
My version is not all that different. Here’s what really happened today. I watched four hours of The Office (I only had to watch two episodes, but I kept watching because I’m in love with John Krasinski, who’s Polish like me and devastatingly handsome
) and then wrote seven pages of script in two hours. It wouldn’t have taken me so long except that I kept getting distracted by the cat, the internet, and my toes (I have cute feet, if I say so myself). I thought about chain-smoking (it would’ve been yet another distraction for me), but thought better of it. Smoking still kills, as I understand it, and what is the point of dying before I get married and travel the world?
My mom was spot on about the jazz though. I started with some Harry Connick, Jr. then moved on to John Coltrane, Thelonius Monk, Charlie Byrd, Stan Getz and am now on Scott Joplin. The ragtime’s a little too upbeat for me, but since I’m done writing my teaser script (which is funny, but not as funny as a whole episode that I’ve got planned), I can handle it.
I hope my mom’s spot on about what she thinks my husband’ll be like. She says that he’s going to be smart and funny, like me. She’s not a fortune-teller or anything, it’s just that she and God are pretty tight. He tells her things like that.
So ya, enough rambling. I’m off to type more notes and do one last page of homework. I love that my homework entails watching hours of television and movies. Yay for me and finding a career that feeds my addictions.
Chain-smoking could work, too. Hmm…
Did I mention that in my imagined scenario of your fevered burst of creativity you also were scantily clad in a wife-beater T-shirt (sweat-stained, natch) girl boxers, and sporting a new tattoo on your left bicep–a red heart with the words “Hollywood and Me forever” still seeping a few crimson drops? No? Gee, what sorts of vices are good Christian girls allowed to have? I know, you can chain-chew celery sticks! Followed by shooters of hot cocoa!Whoo-hoo! And if your feet are cute at all, it’s because you take after me, and don’t you forget it! I knew I called it right with the jazz (you’re sounding like an anglophile when you keep saying “spot on”). They don’t call you jazzybel for nothing. Oh, and on one of your link thingies you say you don’t think you’re all that funny. Oh yeah? Who else laughs like a water cooler and gives herself hiccups? Only the funniest girl in America, ladies and gentlemen! Oh, and who was that who said she had fun making fun of your mom with you? What was that about? Exactly WHAT is there about me to make fun of?
I love you, my golden girl.
Mom
Kitty
July 16th, 2006