n o w p l a y i n g - s c r i p t b i n - f a n c l u b - s t u d i o

make love to the camera



September 12, 2003 - 10:56 am

Fucking Amy Poehler Stole My Le Tigre CD, The Bitch

This sounds like just a joke, but it really isn't: This morning, just before I woke up, I dreamed that there was a new show on BET. The premise was that they profiled a different celebrity butt each episode.

The name of the show? "Chocolate Cup."

I don't know either. I do not ruminate on the BET during my conscious hours. But the pilot was great. The butt was Denzel's.

Well, I can no longer seem to get Heather to come out to play. I've made one or two attempts, and my pride can take no more. I suspect that she fears that I would attempt to seduce her, and she'd be absolutely right. There would be a seduction attempt (of course) shortly followed by success (naturally) and what would that get us?

Complete and utter anarchy. She's making the right choice.

The show last night. Honorable Vaginal Discharge vs. Not On The First Date. We were the better team, but we lost.

We actually did pretty well for a group of people that had never really played together before. There was a last minute substitution. The Summer girl couldn't make it, so we subbed in my Excuses teammate Brian, who did well, especially as my crazy husband Harv.

There were six of us, and I think about ten of them. And those vote whores stacked the audience. In fact, so desperate they were for votes that, before the show, one of them propositioned Kate from my team to vote for them. He saw her at the pizza place down the street, and approached her with "Hey...nice shirt...uh, I don't know if you hang out at the IO, but my team's about to perform there, and we'd really appreciate your vote."

He actually fucking did this. This is just one mere step above recruiting homeless men off the street to come in. The show was rigged, they stole the election, we wuz robbed.

After our twenty minutes, our team sat on the stairs and watched them take their turn. My teammate Rob leaned in and whispered to me, "The dude with the 'Undefeated' shirt has a knife in his pocket."

It made me want to win all the more, despite the crazed stabbing we would no doubt receive.

I'm thinking I should really try to get something going with this new team. The Honorable Vaginal Discharge will not be stopped. The HVD will continue to flow.

So. That agent I met with on Monday suggested that I write a spec script for '8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter.' I guess it's a good thing I didn't get started.

I loved John Ritter, especially as a kid. One of my favorite shows was 'Threes Company,' even though I was far too young to get all the jokes. Same with 'Benny Hill' and 'The Tonight Show.'

But anyway, I was a big Ritter fan from a young age. Even then, I admired a man who lived with two really hot chicks. He just seemed like a really cool, OK guy, nice and funny. I responded to that. I'm not sure if I wrote this story here before, but I'll tell it now.

He was the first celebrity to whom I was ever compelled to send a fan letter. I remember that I wrote it on that off-brown lined paper that second graders use. I cannot remember exactly what I wrote, but I do know that I included in the letter a single dollar bill. I guess I felt like I should give him a little gift for entertaining me.

When I gave the letter to my mom to have her send it, I remember her saying "John Ritter is on TV, Bill...I don't think he needs your dollar."

I was going to tell him that story if I ever met him.

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