Posted by: emjb | April 25, 2005

My Hot Date with Bob Saget. Also: poseuring made simple.

So I finally finished my last book project, which, due to the baby-fatigue and fairly persistent desire to narf*, was kind of a struggle. The money will be great, but I do not want to take on any more extensive writing projects for a good while. At the time, I kept thinking my inability to tough it out and finish it up was laziness and weakness in the face of what were, after all, fairly mild symptoms by a lot of women’s standards.

Then I read over one of the author bios that we put out at work, which mentioned that the author was very prolific, except when she was pregnant. She said she had trouble creating (though not functioning) while gestating. And that was it exactly. I function fine on day to day stuff, but right now, do not ask me to come up with a stunning work of literary originality. When I try to contact that part of my brain, I get a dial tone. Nobody home. I told Matt one day, completely frustrated with this, “I’m stupid with babies!” He thought this was funny for some reason.

So, Bob Saget. I hate Bob fucking Saget, for Full House and for smirking his way through America’s Funniest Crotch Shot Videos. I saw one of his standup shows on TV once. He sucked donkey ass. Still, last night, there he was, standing a few feet away. He knows people I know. People who are semi-famous.

You see, Matt has a cousin, who is a beautiful and talented actress. She’s had bit parts and been in indie films. One of those films** was showing at the Tribeca Film Festival last night, so we went, and after much confusion and consultation with various red-jacketed organizers, found the theater and went in. We had last heard from the cousin that she wasn’t going to be there and that the theater wouldn’t be very full. But it was packed, which, yay for cousin. The movie was good, she had the starring role as a beautiful woman who was possibly also a homicidal nymphomaniac (in good indie-movie style, you weren’t really sure what part was in her head and which part was actually happening).

Then the lights came up, and the director went down front for the Q&A. Then he called down the cast, and there was cousin! Also, Jason Silverman, her co-star, who I had actually seen before! Wow. So now, we thought, ok we’ll stay and say hi to her. While we waited, we noticed a bespectacled tall guy in the corner. Saget! We didn’t stare. After all, Matt’s shared an elevator with Cindy Crawford, and I’ve said hello to Al Franken on the street. So, whatever, Saget. Apparently he was a friend of the director, and knew cousin fairly well. And now I was having nightmares wherein Saget fell in love with cousin and came to all our future family gatherings and made lame jokes we would all feel obliged to laugh at.

But Saget left, and then cousin invited us to the afterparty! I was torn. I was not dressed for a gathering of the beautiful, or even semi-beautiful, people. I was raggedy looking, which I had thought was ok because I was going to be surrounded by film students. Matt looked more presentable, so I considered just letting him go without me. But then I thought, what the hell. If they shun me, I can always vamoose.

When we got there, everyone seemed rather desperately friendly even to two people as plebian as we were, and it struck me: they don’t know whether we’re Somebodies or not. After all, we’re hanging out and talking to the star of the movie. Maybe we’re just shabby-looking but successful! So I really got into my role. I grabbed some free food and a ginger ale, and plunked down at a table, and got out my notebook. I wrote…well, this entry, actually. But I was imagining myself the Shabby Writer, like some Dustin Hoffman-like character who wears sweaters with holes and scorns the pretty people while working on his greatest novel. I mean, I already had the sweater.

I could feel people’s glances sliding off me while I wrote at my table, wondering–is she Somebody, some weird influential screenwriter type? I’ve always assumed people knew I was a nobody just by looking at me. But how could they? Michael Moore and Steven Spielberg have wrought more than they knew, by making it acceptable for directors to dress like the homeless. Many people who lack fashion sense now have power in Hollywood, making it harder to tell who isimportant just by looking at them. It was like Triumph of the Trendless! The ultimate revenge on people who dissed me at age 14 for not having the right blue jeans! Ha ha ha ha ha! I restrained the urge to cackle to myself, but I was not able to suppress the occasional giggle.

This morning, dopey with lack of sleep and drunk on my sudden power of posing, I’m typing this into my computer and giggling still. I’m not going to start crashing parties or anything, but for this one night, I slipped under the radar. And it was good.

*nearly, but never quite, barf. This is all it ever was, but it was bad enough.
**title: Laura Smiles. Go see it! But don’t miss the first 10 minutes or you will miss a major plot point and be more confused than necessary.


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