January 22, 2013

My foot’s a clumsy turd, and I learned how to Skype. Otherwise known as, Things I Haven’t Had Time To Blog About Yet.

In my last blog post about the winners of the Holiday Hump Contest, I mentioned a few things that I promised to tell you about later. Usually when I promise to do ANYTHING later, it either happens (a) months and months later, or (b) never ever ever, but I am totally feeling like getting things done today, so here we go. You freaking lucky bastards.


Those of you who follow me on Facebook (AKA those of you who are awesome) probably already know that I hurt my foot before xmas break. And as things usually work when I totally eff something up on my body, I wasn’t really doing anything at all strenuous. I mean, I’ve pulled my back out at least 3 times in the past from simply making my bed. And it’s not like I’m gettin’ Martha Stewarty all up on that thing, either. I’m not doing special military corners or bouncing quarters off the sheets or anything psycho like that. I’m just pulling the comforter up far enough so that The Cat can’t get her feline germs all over my slumber zone, and suddenly BAM! I can’t move. At least twice I’ve pulled my neck so badly that I can’t turn my head for days, by simply just looking over my shoulder before backing out of a parking space. That little injury hurts like balls, so now, when I’m leaving a spot, I just hope for the best and drop the hammer.

The injury of my foot was not much different. I mean, at least this time I was actually doing something somewhat physical, seeing that I was in pilates and actually kind of working out. And I say “kind of” because the amount of working out that I’m doing in there just totally varies day to day. That particular day all I was doing was this stupid stretch called “Elephant” where I’m simply bent over stretching, then I have to lift up my toes while my feet are flat on the ground. Well, I’ve done this thing multiple times a week for nearly 3 years, but this time, when I lifted my toes, muthaflippinholyhellsweetbabyjeebusinapitapocket it hurt kinda bad. Even though I had lots of pain, since I was busy getting ready for The Holidays, I ignored it and went away for two weeks with it hurting like a mofo. When I got back home, I went to the foot dude and he said it looked like I had torn my plantar fascia, and that it was on the mend, so I just needed to leave it alone for another few weeks. That means no pilates. Which means no Phillip. Which means that I am not only totally out of shape right now, but Phillip is in some kind of sadness spiral. I’m pretty freaking sure. 

The other thing I mentioned in the last post, was the whole Skype situation. 

Last December a woman from a casting agency in L.A. contacted me to ask if I had ever thought about having a docu-series done about me. I wrote her back and asked her if she was talking about that Honey Boo Boo crap and if “docu-series” was just a fancy word for reality show. She said it’s a kinder, gentler, less-trashy reality show situation. I guess she thought that I would be more intrigued by that, and to be honest, at the time of my initial response I was. But after pondering all of the stupidity I could get up to in a trashy reality show, my imagination was kind of excited. I WANT TO BE IN CHILD BEAUTY CONTESTS, DAMMIT! I WANT TO BE MOM-BRAIN, THE BOUNTY HUNTER! I WANT TO SPORK THE OVARIES OF A BUNCH OF STUCK-UP, SPOILED HOUSEWIVES! 

The woman told me that she would like to sort of interview me on Skype, and record it, so that it could potentially be shown to the people who decide about these things. The God’s of Television, or whatever. Let me be totally and 100% honest here and tell you that I in NO WAY have ANY desire to have cameras in my home or following me to Target or pilates or to go poop or to watch me dance for The cat or anything like that. I am 100% sure that nobody would want to watch that show, with the exception of maybe some horny prison inmates when they get tv day for good behavior. But this is a super cool and flattering opportunity for anyone, and there’s no way I was gonna NOT do the interview. I mean, there’s always the teeny tiny chance that I could talk them into doing a show about my scheme to Occupy Johnny Depp, or perhaps one about Hunting Norman Reedus, that would be kinda like that Finding Big Foot thing, except with less sasquatches and hillbillies, and more Norman and Modelo.

So I did the interview. It was not at all nerve-wracking like I thought it would be. I guess if you don’t expect anything to come of it and you don’t really care either way, there’s no reason to be nervous. Once I realized that, I was good to go. That said, I do have some focus issues, along with direction following issues, so I’m sure that the poor woman had a bit of a migraine by the time that it was over. And since it was my first time ever using Skype, I was a bit wackadoo. And then, of course, when it was all said and done, I was all “Damn! Why didn’t I tell her about the time I got trapped in the dark behind the theater and that hobo tried to pee on my friend? And when she asked me my favorite things to do, why didn’t I tell her about my boner for flea marketing, or my addiction to Girl Scout Fight Clubs?” And then I totally wanted to hop in my Time Burger and go do it all over again. DAMN! Why didn’t I tell her about my Time Burger????

Truth be told, I am not much of an in-front-of-the-camera kinda person. I know that from all the crazy photos I post, you probably don’t believe me at all. Basically, I’m ok in front of a camera if I am doing something totally and completely ridiculous, but if it’s something where I am supposed to be “normal”, I’m just not that into it. I get all weird and awkward and uncomfortable, and not in a good way.

A few years ago, as some of you already know (and others have recently emailed me asking about…so here ya go), I won a contest on Ellen to go to The Primetime Emmy’s when she hosted, and then to her show the next day. I never even enter to win anything ever since the time in Kindergarten when I was sure I was gonna win an amazingly fancy cake in a cake walk, and the stupid girl in my class that copied all of my rad drawings, ended up winning. But for some reason I stopped in my tracks to enter this. I was literally on my way out the door to go pick up The Boy after school, when I heard the announcement on tv about the contest. You were to email the show and tell them why you should get to go to The Emmy’s. I had never entered anything like this before, but for some reason I sat down and wrote a quick (5 minutes) poem to her, then ran my late ass out the door. By the time I got home with The Boy, I had a call from one of the producers.  

What happens after something like that, is that they call you 10 times a day for a few days, and interview you a bit every time. They are trying to get to know you and get a good sense of your personality and see if you are someone they want to have on their show. I am not at all uncomfortable with that. It’s one-on-one and it’s easy for me. I take pride in my ability to charm the balls off of anyone. Producer Andy and I had a super fun time in those conversations. He was my long-distance, much younger, not-really-boyfriend, boyfriend. He was lots of fun.

When it got time to go to L.A. I was asked if I would be willing to be interviewed on the show if they had any free space. I said “No thank you.” I was then asked if I would be willing to dance with Ellen at the beginning of the show if they decided that would work. Again, I said “No thank you.”

Now, I know that probably ALL of you are saying to yourselves, What the holy WHAT? That attention whore declined to get interviewed by Ellen? She didn’t want to dance with Ellen? I know it’s hard to believe. Even I have a hard time believing it NOW. But this was before I had a blog, and I didn’t really see what I could possibly say that would interest ANYONE watching me on tv. I honestly still don’t, which is part of the reason I have a habit of turning things like this down. Combine that with the fact that I am not big on cameras, and you get my big fat “pass.” While this was definitely the most excitingly unexpected thing that had ever happened to me before, I had absolutely no delusions that it was my moment to shine, or that I would somehow become famous from it. Good lord, that is the last thing I would even want, or think that I deserved.

The day of The Emmy’s, the limo came to the hotel to get us, and there was a camera crew who wanted to ask each of us some questions about what we were looking forward to, and which stars we hoped to see. When it was my turn, I uncomfortably answered their questions, then waited for the camera to turn off and for them to go talk to someone else. But it just sat there in my face with that red light on and I felt like Cindy Brady when she was doing that television quiz show. I was all zoned out and spazzy and WTF and awkward, and the moment I realized it, I started rolling my eyes and did a weird little dance, and the camera man was like “What the hell was THAT?” and I was all “I DON’T FREAKING KNOW!” 

And suffice it to say, that segment did not air on the show that Monday morning. Thank balls.


Note to self: Next time you get to sit on stage in a tv host’s chair, make sure that the doink who’s taking your photo knows how to use a camera, or this will be the best of all 3 photos that he takes, and you will want to hunt him down and spork him in the underballs.
Thankfully, now that I’m older and (GASP!) wiser, I’m a bit more comfortable in my pasty skin. I have accepted and grown into my personality and my whole I don’t give a f*ck-edness. And although only a year or so ago, I woulda turned that Skype interview down, and even last year I turned a few other things like this down, I am now finally getting comfortable enough to do these things, and I’m kinda just a teensy bit proud of myself. I’m sure if I actually SAW the recording of the Skype thing, I’d totally change my mind and climb back in my little hidey hole, but as long as I don’t have to see it I can convince myself that I done good. If you tell yourself something enough, then it’s the truth, right?  And if I had actually given in and done anything like this last year, I wouldn’t have told everyone about it because I would be a bit embarrassed if I failed and nothing came out of it. But now I realize that I should be kinda proud at even getting this chance, even though most likely nothing will come out of it. I honestly don’t expect anything, nor do I even really care.  And if you don’t really care, and you’re ok with the fact that people will either like you and what you have to say, or they won’t, and you have absolutely zero ambitions to become famous or be on tv or whatever, then it doesn’t really even matter, right? I GET that now. I guess this is 40, you guys. (Ok, so I’m actually 41, but that just doesn’t have the same ring to it.)

P.S. My friend Stephanie made an unexpected appearance in my Skype thing. Here is the status that I posted about it on Facebook:
So today I had a Skype interview/meeting/audition with someone from a casting agency in Los Angeles. I know, right? It’s been in the works for awhile now. For some reason they are maybe interested in the idea of having me be in a show. A show that people would watch. Or not watch. Probably the latter. I have never Skyped until today, so that was a bit odd. I think I came off semi-normal. The Cat tried to get in on the action cuz she is an attention whore. Then my friend Stephanie thought to herself, “Self, wouldn’t it be funny if I drove over to Patti’s house and peeked in the window to her office while she was doing her interview, and made a funny face?” So she did. And I guess she kinda forgot that I am somewhat fearful of some lady putting on a diaper and driving here to take my skin. So here I am, talking to the woman on Skype, trying to be attentive and make some semblance of sense, when I look up and see a woman in my bushes. So I freak out and yell, then I’m all “Oh, it’s Stephanie! My friend is in my bush!” Then I’m all “That sounded really dirty! Wrong kinda bush.” Then, since I had spoken to her previously about how much fun my friend Stephanie and I have together, I was all “I did not plan this! I swear!” And she told me to let Stephanie in and have her say “Hello”, so I did. Even though she gave me a heart attack and made me yell about her being all up in my bush. And BTW it was recorded by her so all the people who spot talent can watch it. I’m sure they won’t be horrified or confused at all. I totally bet I get a call very soon. (<<<
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6 Responses to “My foot’s a clumsy turd, and I learned how to Skype. Otherwise known as, Things I Haven’t Had Time To Blog About Yet.”

  1. Sara Jones Said:

    This is why you DO need a show!! I am going to read your book too :)
    “My friend is in my bush.” EPIC
    I really, truly did laugh out loud :)

  2. Jesse Roberts Said:

    wow. that would have been amazing to see you on Ellen I love her and you , omg what if you could get on the ellen show the same day that Norman Reedus was there? ALL 3 of my fav peoples on the same progam.

  3. caroline Said:

    I would LOVE to watch your show and see you buttsecks random objects all over this great country. Your show would be epic!

  4. The Bearded Iris Said:

    I bet you rocked those producers’ faces off with your “friend in my bush” number. That shit’s hilarious. Just stopping by to say hi. Found you through Domestic Goddess and the COM thingy. Nice to find a fellow blogger who’s not afraid to spork some under balls. Off to follow you on FB…

  5. Amanda Bombard Said:

    Holy hellballs you’re a flipping riot! I would totally watch a show about-with-or just kinda showing your picture even. Just so I could tell all my friends and family how totally awesome it is to be fake-internet bff-sies with you- cause like you totally click “like” whenever I post on your facebook wall. So that absolutely makes us bff-sies right? Shut up, it totally does! Wait, what was I talking about again?

  6. alifeaskew Said:

    My curiosity is BURNING about what that poem was that had them calling you back so quickly. It must have been brilliant. In fact, why isn’t it in a museum some where so that us non-talent searching types can view it?

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