Page 90 of Big Sexy Love
I laugh. His pure abhorrence for any form of rigidity still seems utterly bonkers to me. But with arms like that. And legs like that. And eyes like that. And a tongue like that, it hardly seemsimportant.
Seth looks thoughtful for a moment. ‘Do you think you could stick around for another couple of hours? I’ve got a two-hour writers’ pitch meeting – why don’t you sit in on it, and when it’s done I can introduce you to Sharon who runs PR for the show. She can give you some tips, some local media contacts and help you come up withaplan.’
A pitch meeting? Aren’t TV writing rooms sacred spaces? And he’s inviting me to watch? My heart leaps like I am a ten-year-old and it’s Christmas morning. I’m a little surprised by how interesting the prospect of watching joke pitching sounds to me. But now that he’s suggested it, I know that there is nothing else I would rather do for the next two hours. Anders and Mrs Ramirez are back at Anders’ house making leaflets and doing internet research. And if I have to wait to see the PR womananyway…
‘What do you say?’ Seth asks, grabbing a bottle of water from his desk, taking a long swig and grabbing the carton of pasta to take along to themeeting.
‘I say yes please. Very much yesplease.’
‘Okay then!Let’sgo!’
* * *
The sensationof delight I’m getting, purely by being in a place so full of comedy legend and history, is getting bigger and more intense, until I’m so full of glee I legit worry I’m about to explodewithit!
I’m seated at a large round table with around ten writers. After they ribbed me about the whole Watch Me Piddle thing, I curried their respect by ripping right back into them about ‘maybe learning to create original characters’. I pulled up all my courage, lifted my chin and told them in no uncertain terms my propensity for piss play was no longer available for creative fodder but that they were welcome to use my desire to only make love to men dressed up like giant hot dogs. That, to my delight, made them properly laugh and I was welcomed intothefold.
Now, I watch in astonishment as these people invent sketches and jokes out of thin air! The energy is crazy. Everyone is laughing, no one seems scared to say the wrong thing and if they do say something unfunny everyone boos them – but it is a sort of playful, non-dickish way. And when someone picks up on the idea of a joke that the team likes, they develop it and riff with each other until the joke becomes progressively tighter and funnier. It’sfascinating.
I watch, captivated as the sketch ideas go from rough, vague jumping-off points to fully fledged ideas with solid characters and catchphrases. Tomorrow all of the ideas will be presented to the executive producer of the show, the cast and the celebrity host. Then only a few will get chosentoair.
Seth comes up with a sketch idea that everyone likes. It’s a parody commercial, advertising an invention for the socially awkward. The invention is for a food postbox that enables people to get takeaway delivered without having to interact face to face with another human. It’s really weird and funny. His delivery is dry and relaxed and the rest of the writers clearlylovehim.
‘What do you think?’ he turns to me. I give him a thumbs up. There’s no way I would make a suggestion in a room like this, full of experts and people who are actually funny. Icouldn’t…
‘Would you change anything?’Sethasks.
I shake myhead. ‘No!’
‘Come on! If youhadto change something, what woulditbe?’
I look at the table, my heart pounding. ‘Um, well, I don’t know… maybe it could be more specific. Like, a slot in the door just for pizza,’ I say quietly. ‘Like a tiny, narrow slot that would be useless for any other food except pizza. Not even pizza in a box. Just, like, unboxedpizza.’
Seth nods. ‘Yeah. I like it. It’sridiculous.’
‘You could call it Pizza Flap?’ I add, which gets a huge laugh around the room. The sound of it ringing out and echoing around me makes my heart sing in a way I’ve never experiencedbefore.
Seth gives me ahugegrin.
‘Where did you find her?’ one of the other writers asks and I turn red withpride.
When the writing session is over, I’m buzzing with my tiny, tiny contribution and the fact that, no word of a lie, that past couple of hours was the most fun I think I’ve had in my entire life. I can’t believe that somebody gets to do that for their actual job. It makes no sense. I’ve never really minded my job at Joan’s Fresh Fish. I mean, I’ve never loved it, but it’s been, you know, sufficient. But that? Seth gets paid to do that? No wonder he’s so chilled out and confident all the time. He gets paid to have the most fun that anyone could possibly have. For a brief moment I picture myself getting up in the mornings, going to work somewhere where my entire job would be to write things to make peoplelaugh.
My heart pangs withlonging.
* * *
Seth’s friendSharon – the PR woman atSunday Night Live– turns out to be the blonde woman I saw him with that day when I collared him for writing about our humiliating airplane dalliance. She’s lovely and clever and super attractive. I wonder if she’s the ‘blondie’ ex that Phyllis was referring to… She’s so put together, so confident and sure and at ease with herself. Basically the oppositeofme.
She’s really keen to help with the cause and not only does she give me personal mobile numbers of people at local radio and news outlets, but she also says that she will send a tweet out from her personal Twitter account, which – she tells us proudly – has over twenty-thousand followers. I thank her profusely and in response she lays her head onto Seth’sshoulder.
‘Any friend of Hartman’s is a friend of mine,’ she grins. He doesn’t seem particularly comfortable with the exchange and steps out of the way so that Sharon’s head is left sort of dangling where Seth’s shoulderoncewas.
Yes. Those two have definitely done sex together. I am alarmed at the spike of jealousy that flies through me. I haven’t felt jealous of anyone or anything in years. Ugh. It’s horrid, all burning and ragey. Ew! I do not like! I try my best to shove it aside and tell Sharon that I’ll keep her updated with thesearch.
‘I’ll be writing all night tonight, but can I see you tomorrow night for dinner?’ Seth asks as he walks me out of the RockefellerCenter.
‘Yes,’ I sayatonce.
