November 11th 2007 9:55 pm
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Hollywood Agents blow goats. Period.
So, yeah, I'm still here waiting tables. Wait - I just thought of a new show! Charlie's Agents!
Can't you just see it? Charlie (that ridiculously over-confident smug bastard of a Cheshire Cat that I just happen to be forced to live with).
Wait. Paranthetical (quote and quote) asides don't work.
All of you know that I've just your typical disgruntled greasy-diner waitress who just happened to end up in a black Patterdale Terrier's body. Quite the cute Patterdale, I might say.
Anyway, ever since my shifts got cut in half at the diner, I had to bring in room-mates.
Charlie - well, we've already talked about him. From him harassing me at the diner, I've picked up that he has a catster page, and is a bit of a 'mack daddy' with the ladies. Hmmm. Different strokes - you get the point.
Georgia is my other room-mate. She's very sweet - albeit with a very strange habit of sucking on her fore-arm fur into a nipple all the while muttering, "Mommy knows best. Mommy knows best."
It seems to comfort her - but then she turns right around and grabs a bottle of Columbia Crest Grand Estates Merlot, suck it down until she's belly up in front of the fireplace - and then goes and whizzes into a corner.
That's right. She actually rolls up onto all fours, staggers into a quiet corner, evidently thinks it's the restroom, and pees all over the corner.
Every stinking weekend.
And sometimes in the middle of the week.
To get back to the point, I can totally see Charlie putting the house phone onto speakerphone with 3 Hollywood Agents waiting on his every word, and he says,
"Meow! Meoooowwwwww! Meow! Meowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!
And the 3 Agents trying to make heads and tails of what the hell he just said.
November 7th 2007 10:56 pm
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Sorry I haven't written in a while - but I'm not waiting tables for my health, let me tell YOU, honey!
No - I've been dealing with dirty napkins and dollar bills for the last 2 years just so I could focus on my TV shows.
Yes, honey - I realize that it's a long shot. But so was my first marriage to Alec.
Alec - Alec Guiness. He said he was 'Burmese' - and I assumed he meant he was from Burma.
Not quite sure what I was thinking since there's not too many hairy, alcoholic Scots from Burma who like harassment from us firecracker waitresses!
Because he sure did. Those were the days - I'd walk in and he'd be there. Rolling on his back like a tipped-over keg rolling around on the back of a Peterbilt truck. I'd grab him by the neck or leg and shake him like the big drunk Scot rag doll he is.
Anyway, it was when I was watching "Magnum PI" that I realized that I wanted to become Tom's girlfrie- - script writer.
Seriously, honey? How much better could life get? Having Tom Selleck and the Selleckache reading my own words to me? Better than a 30% cash tip from a 15 person group of geriatric Jersey girls!
So, I started to write. I wrote during the Guiness years, the Jazz years (Jazz's first name was Dalex - strange name I know, but he turned out to like the male patrons just a little bit more than he liked me), and I've been writing TV shows ever since.
One thing that Tom never told me in those moments when he was gazing at me and the sunset behind me in those long shots that ended "Magnum PI" - getting someone to buy a TV show is not easy. A TV - easy. A TV show - not so easy.
Dealing with attitude from Charlie - you know who Charlie is don't you? No? He's that guy who wears a red velvet dressing gown into the restaurant every Wednesday - and then complains loudly until he gets his 'Steak & Eggs.'
Anyway, dealing with Charlie's attitude is easy compared to getting a show on TV!
My agent says that with the writer's strike, my reality series about grumpy waitresses yelling at their regulars may actually have a shot!!!!
If you see me here next week, then you'll know that my agent's as crazy as Charlie - or that TV's dollars were dirtier than the napkins over on Table 30....
August 28th 2007 11:51 pm
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So, Sky and Ely stopped by today - thank God.
After a hard day in the diner serving up hash browns to the mentally deficient, the last thing I want to do is drink a box of wine again while watching "Sex and the City" on my pirated TBS.
Which reminds me of last night. I was watching the episode where Carey Bradshaw is whacked out of her Pomeranian-Poodle styled hair. Since that describes pretty much every episode of her show in 'New Yawk' City, let me get a little more detailed.
It was the episode where Carey goes on and on about whether it’s better to forgive or forget, after "Mr. Big" calls her while she's doing the horizontal mambo, the tangled two-step, and the slippery slide with Aiden.
It was a quick call.
Anyway, the whole thing was whacked because everyone knows:
It's. Better. To. Just. Get. Even.
That's right, I said what you wish you could say. Just get even.
No matter who or what does you wrong - just get even.
Cat look at your bone while you're chewing on it?
Run right past the cat while you pretend to look for a comfortable place to chew - and whack it in the face with the face 'accidentally'. Ooopsie!
Cat sit a little too close to your bowl while eating?
Put your cigarette out in its Kibble & Bits.
Heh, heh - whoa, excuse the hoarseness - sometimes even thinking about a cigarette will bring that on. Anyway, you can even justify it to yourself since you might be displacing those Chinese food ingredients and saving her life.
Cat try to cuddle up and get some nooky while you're catching some shut-eye on your favorite pillow? Maybe even put some claws into you while it’s 'just getting comfortable?'
Pretend that you think the cat is busting a move on your ball. This will let you bust out with a snarl worthy of Cujo - yet the Big Guy and Her Sweetness will only chuckle and say, "Ah, look - she thinks the cat is after her ball. How cute!"
Or if the idiot at table 3 leaves you a 5% tip and is stupid enough to let you see it?
Whoever said that a dog's bark is worse than a bite never left ME a 5% tip.
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