On the next episode of Hoarders.
Alright, so, listen. Not only did I drive to and from Massachusetts and then to North Jersey and back this weekend (what up, New Jersey Turnpike! How you livin’, boo?), I’m also still completely infatuated with The Futureheads this week (and the city of Berlin, for that matter). So, although I was in the presence of The Backstreet Boys last night (oh, hey, Nick Carter), I still can’t really crown a new Crush this week. I just don’t feel right about it.
But another reason this Crushing is difficult to do, might be because it’s an anniversary of sorts with a man I wouldn’t have a Crush on, per se, but who totally fucking rules and I’d gladly let him adopt me as a niece, or something? Can people do that? I’ll look into it. Anyway, this evening, I’ll be attending Silver Diner Night, in support of my friend’s support for her church. I’m no churchgoer, but I do really enjoy food, especially of the diner variety (hi, I’m from New Jersey, nice to meet you); and, you know, charity! Or good deeds! Nice stuff!
Okay, and an hour later I get to the moral of this whole thing. Last year’s Silver Diner Night was the same day I worked up my courage to direct message screenwriter Dave Finkel (he’d surprisingly followed me back on Twitter a month or so before that, which had already sent me into a wild case of the happies). I believe my first message was to not find the message after that to be creepy, and I attached along my email address. The second message was about how badly I wanted to be a screenwriter and I’d hoped he had a minute to give me the poop on the whole “getting into it” thing. I checked my email and Twitter, relentlessly, after, hoping he didn’t immediately “un-follow” me and tell his buddy, Diablo Cody, that he met an insane girl online, or something.
Well, you know what? He fucking emailed me (and with the subject line “Creepy”, of course). Not only that, but he emailed me that he was going to email me back, but had to write a script first, but wanted to assure me that he wasn’t ignoring my frantic plea for help. Then, he emailed me with loads of advice, and we kept up a pretty sweet email chain for a while about the ins and outs of screenwriting, and his life story (he’s written for 30 Rock and Animaniacs, and currently writes for United States of Tara; he also interned at Jim Henson’s Creature Shop and (of course) attended NYU – this guy and his awesome life! (I would, literally, kill him for it)). He’s got a wife, two kids, and a job, so I’ve tried not to bother him too much with my incessant nagging and questions, and I’m still sad I missed out on a chance to meet up with him during my trip to Los Angeles this past November (because I was too chicken to email-remind him), but yeah. He still rules and I’m like a little kid with my excitement over it being a year since we became pseudo-e-friends-or-something.
I don’t even know what this post is, or if there really is a point. It isn’t meant to be at all braggy, or anything, I swear! I just got really psyched when I remembered that fateful Creepy emailing fell on the same day as Silver Diner Night. Also, maybe now that I realize it’s been a year since I begged this person for screenwriting advice, I’ll fucking get my writing act together. Reminiscing isn’t doing shit for getting me a job as the next Tina Fey!
Did I mention that he’s also won two Emmys? Fuck that guy.
(I didn’t want to creep into his Facebook for pictures of him, especially since lots of them also involve his kids and that’d be weird of me to post pictures of his kids online (because it’s totally not weird at all that I remember the first day-ish he emailed me), so I put one of me instead. I love me. Also, he and I share a birthday, so, we’re like the same person anyway.)