My granddad’s lovely wife of many years, Jeannine, passed away yesterday, after finding out five months ago that she was quite, as I’m pretty sure she put it, ‘full a cancer.’ She was endlessly loving, energetic, positive, and the only person I’ve ever known to genuinely say ‘Yippie Skippie!’ when things pleased her. She made passing away look easy, inevitable, hilarious, human, graceful. When I went over for lunch in July, soon after she’d gotten the news, she wondered where our sandwiches were. ‘I’m dying of hunger!’ Then catching herself. ‘And I’m actually dying. HA!’ Jeannine, I assume that heaven has wireless and so perhaps you’re reading this. Thank you for loving and caring for my Granddad, for the art of sage butter, for the wine opener that lives in my kitchen that looks vaguely of sex toy, for recipes, for scarves. Rest in all of the peace.
This college professor from Missouri runs marathons WHILE KNITTING SCARVES to raise $ and awareness for Alzheimer’s. He’ll be running the NYC one this weekend, and since knitting needles propose a security threat, he will be knitting a twelve foot scarf while running WITH HIS FINGERS*.
HE CAN DO ANYTHING BETTER THAN YOU
(no he can’t)
YES HE CAN
(no he can’t)
YES HE CAN
*Editor’s note: I just realized that this makes it sound like he will be running with his fingers. This amuses me, so I will leave it, but will also propose this rephrase: He will be knitting a twelve foot scarf with his fingers WHILE RUNNING.
Today on If I Could Turn back Time: Socrates. I don’t mean like I want to bounce back 24 hundred years, grab a toga and hang out / feed each other grapes. I mean high school, and what I was taught, or perhaps not taught, then. Lately in various pieces of news and radio bits, I keep hearing about the Socratic method being used in high school classrooms as a means of teaching: an emphasis being placed on debate and articulation of an idea. I really could’ve used that skill in my adult life, especially because I’m realizing more and more that so much of TV writing is critical thinking, questioning, friendly arguments. I instead spent most of high school, from what I recall, cramming my brain full of things and puking the things onto exams and into papers and forgetting them immediately. Woulda Shoulda Coulda. This being the ONLY REASON EVER I want to go back to high school, this and perhaps a good excuse to eat Chik Fila for lunch everyday, I think I’ll make peace with where and who I am and also this Time Machine is really expensive and basically just a bike.
ALERT ALERT ALERT. A startup in San Fran, ManServant, rents Gentlemen for $125/ hour to women who want to be treated like ladies. Like, for really. You can hire a handsome man in a tux to pour you champagne / open doors for you / compliment you every fifteen minutes (he is required to, and it happens like clockwork.) I am equal parts horror and fascination. A hilarious writer lady tried the service out and then wrote about it, and you should pretty much just read about it Here. But real quick, here’s an excerpt from her date (note: before your ‘date’ you can pick attributes of and assign qualities to your gentleman, like for example, maybe you want him to be a chivalrous dead president:)
Theodore Roosevelt: So how are you ladies doing tonight?
I SMELL A PLAY / TV PLAY / MOVIE / TV MOVIE / MOVIE TV PLAY
Today, for once, I feel totally on top of all things money. I have my corporation, I have all of the correct forms, I have my corporate accounts and credit card, I understand what an AMT is and how it is NOT when and EMT goes to an ATM, I have a lovely accountant person who is issuing payroll and doing quarterly projections for me and I even know what that means, and other than that one time five minutes ago I told said accountant I was born in 1892, I AM ON IT.
Is that Little Man gets many more productions, ONLY so that every actor who is ever in it has to face the wonder and horror and charm of their senior year portrait.
One of my favorite things about living in California, next to you know, just like, living in California, and also avocados, is being in the same state as Miss Elizabeth Castoria. We have a grand routine of meeting up in various places throughout CA and finding all of the wine and drinking it and finding all of the nice things and looking at them. We’ve Nappaed, we’ve Palm Sprung, and this trip, we picked Morro Bay, equidistant between our respective homeplaces. MB features massive rock surrounded by Sea Lions that have LOTS to say, charming baby cactus stores, stupid good vegan food, and chill folks who share a favorite verb which is To Saturday. A few hours in, we are already locals. We know all of the babies and what cities they’re named after, we are buds with the old surfer dudes whose pants won’t stay up, we have Saturdayed, and will continue to Saturday, perhaps even into Sunday.
Tiny little baby brother Tim is currently stationed in Japan. He is quite bored. I miss him. As he is 16 hours ahead, finding a time when we can get on the phone has been quite arduous and requires a lot of math. All of this to say, I have invented a new verb which is, of course, FaceTimming, v: when you FaceTime with Tim. There is also, of course, FaceTimmying, which is when you FaceTime with Tim, but he is 8 years old. This is not to be confusing with FaceTimothying, which is when you FaceTime with Tim regarding something official or biblical.
Our (very sweet and very awesome) office manager brought us a bunch of donuts this morning. A hilarious, sort of sullen ‘awwwwww’ and ‘nooooooo’ moved through the room, as there is nothing more terrifying to a group of tv writers who sit on couches all day, steps away from the entire Trader Joe’s snack aisle and then some, than a box full of seasonal carbs. I really have a lot more to say on this topic butnbudafnsafansdfnsdfnasdnfsdnndsffdsnsdnffsnfnnnnnn (DONUTINMOUTH.)