the slack daily

I'll Be Back...

...tomorrow, with something worthwhile to say.

In the meantime:

Separated at Birth?

WLTV's Gary Vaynerchuk brings the thunder:

UFC's Matt Serra will hopefully bring the thunder in the next couple of minutes:

Edited to add: damn, that was BS. Yeah, he was losing, but they called it way too early. 

The Wonder Rears.

The year was 2001, and I was Master of my Universe: I had just begun writing on season two of Lizzie McGuire (instead of writing three 22-episode seasons, we did two seasons of 30 and 35.  Yes, insanity.)  I had whittled my 200+ pounds way-out-of-shape frame down to a shade under 20% bodyfat, but by some happy accident of genetics managed to keep my impressive rack and my butt.  Ah, my butt.  I spent hours in the gym squatting and deadlifting so that my posterior could look like the illegitimate asschild of J-Lo and Kim Kardashian.

That week, my idol and friend Savage Steve Holland was shooting an episode that Older SlackBrother J. and I had written called "Lizzie in the Middle," where Frankie Muniz magically appears at Lizzie's school and in an implausible Notting Hill-twist-of-fate, wants to desperately date her. 

The script had originally been written for Aaron Carter (yes, Disney Channel writers were penning scripts for the guy who's now best known some gay-porn quality shots of him smoking weed.  But his 13th birthday party had Absolut Vodka as a Corporate Sponsor.  My 13th birthday party we ate pizza and watched Under the Rainbow on the VCR in my parents' basement.  But I digress...)  Aaron had been in a previous Lizzie episode also written by us (which also helped spark the Lohan-Duff feud!) and he wanted to be in an episode with actual lines.  A two weeks later Older SlackBrother J. and I turned in our script, Welcome Back, Carter, which went down as our greatest title in the history of titles on the show.

Alas, young Aaron was busy with Seussical the Musical, so the script was put on ice until someone in the Duff camp mentioned that Hilary and Frankie Muniz were friends.  They used to date, I had been told, leading me question my universe in which a 13-year-old got way more play that I did at 28.  Of course, little did I know later she'd be fishing in my dating pool. Age-wise, anyway.

Rewrite it for Frankie! was the command from on high, so rewrite it for Frankie we did.  D'you know how you watch TV and some Big Guest Star shows up playing yourself and you think those hacks, that would never happen!  Well, I'll let you in on a little secret: the people writing it think that, too.  Having a page to introduce Big Guest Star and make him fall immediately in love with your main character (and she can't disrobe) is a pretty big task, so sometimes you gotta reach into the Hack Bag of Tricks.

 

So that fateful day back in 2001 (or 2002?  I'm pretty sure it's 2001) I head down to set to check it out.  They're about to shoot the scene when Frankie's introduced and sweeps Lizzie off of her feet.  I gingerly creep through the mass of cables with my cup of coffee towards the monitors.  Savage waves at me and confers with an AD.  Someone taps me on the shoulder.

Hi, I just wanted to introduce myself.  I'm Fred.  You're the writer, right?

I turn around to see Kevin Arnold himself.  Fred-mothereffing-Savage.

Kevin Arnold!  (But he looked more like this.)

It was dueling Savages on the set that day, as Savage, Fred was shadowing Savage Steve as Fred was planning on transitioning into TV directing. 

I apologized for our lame dialogue, giving Fred the backstory and he assured me that it wasn't "that bad."  I think I kicked him, and within minutes we were trading barbs, prompting the AD to threaten to kick us off the set and me to think about the time warp quality of being on a junior high set making with the snark avec Fred Savage.

He was made of awesome, and we spent the week (platonically!  There was no hanky-panky!) discussing our love of Chicago food, why I should buy his hot gay car, and finally, the current lack of ass on the American Woman's Derrière.

I like a woman with some ass, he told me.  Where have all the asses gone?

Maybe it's just the jeans contributing to the flatassedness of America?

I don't buy it, he told me. Look at you.

Me?

You wear those kinda jeans.  And you have an amazing ass!

My ass: Fred Savage-approved!

TivOh?

Blogging about the contents of one's TiVo is the ultimate in LazyBlogging.

Which is why I bring you a picture instead:

Back tomorrow with your regularly scheduled slack!

From the Frontlines...

Check out the interview that a group of us did for United Hollywood!  That's me, TV writer Patty, feature writer and blogger Tomas, and Writer's Assistant Wan!

Sneaky Carson Daly...

Carson Daly snuck across the WGA picket line at NBC today...

(You can see the above directly at blip.tv or YouTube!)

Edited to Add (11/30 3:20pm):  Check out my friend, fellow Carson Daly Task Force ally and WGA member Tomas' blog for the further adventures with Carson!

Continuity Errors Get Me Hot.

Yesterday, after spending my morning videoblogging, my afternoon picketing and my evening working, all I wanted to do was shove some food in my face (thank you, anonymous benefactor, for picking up the tab at Swingers for WGA members.  I enjoyed my ahi tuna sandwich and we tipped on the full tab, I swear) and crawl into bed.

I pulled on my PJ's (we need to get the pilot lit on the furnace, so it's incredibly chilly) and burrowed into the covers.  As I switched off the light and went to kiss my husband, he said softly

You know something?

His voice had that vulnerable edge, that I-am-about-to-say-something-important-so-listen-up.  I turned over on my side, resting on my elbow.  What?

Dee and Dennis are twins, right?  So why didn't they both go to school with the rapper who Dennis thought was retarded?

What?

Dennis says that he knows that L'il Kevin is retarded because he went to grade school on the short bus.  But if Dennis and Dee are twins, shouldn't they both have been in school at the same time?

I came up with some plausible explanation (maybe they went to different schools, maybe Dee was held back) and then turned back to go to sleep.

...two minutes later

Hey baby?

Yes?

Y'wanna do it?

Because discussing continuity errors on It's Always Sunny is supposed to get me hot?

Good point.

...two minutes later

Will?

Yeah?

Okay.

But...

Don't ask.

You can find Will's take on twitter.

And because you can never have enough It's Always Sunny, a clip from the episode in question:

... Also, if you want to be included in the blogger night invitation for Monday, December 17th, please email me!  I'll work on getting an evite out by this weekend.

WGA Hollywood Rally! (in Three Acts)

One:

Two:

('scuse the terrible quality.  My ancient video camera is, well, ancient.)

Three (Thousand? Plus?):

StrikeChat.

Overheard on the Picket Line:

Picketeers: Honk for the writers!

Black Range Rover: Honks; driver raises his middle finger in salute.

Picketeers: Enjoy Beauty and the Geek* 14!

For Those Playing Along at Home:

A few ways that you can support the striking writers (and those put out of work by the strike.)

Wondering why we've taken The Office away from you?  Watch this.

Think writers are overpaid, lazy SOBs who drive million-dollar cars and dine on the flesh of endangered animals?  I'm here to say it ain't so.

Participate from the comfort of your own computer.  Sign the petition.

Wanna let the Media Moguls know how you feel about the whole thing and have a couple of bucks to spare? Check out Pencils to Media Moguls.

We may be pencils down, but Ryan from the CDP is going razors down.  He's refusing the shave until this whole thing is resolved.  (The slackmistress endorses said action, but is not partaking as the Yeti look is just not for her.)

Have more than a few bucks to spare and want to help those caught in the middle?  Check out this post.

Live in Los Angeles and want to be a part of something BIG?  Come join us at tomorrow's rally in Hollywood!

(I'll be at the above.  I swear.  Not like today, where I worked from 5:30am-12:15pm, then came home and laid down justforasecond and got up about 10 minutes ago.  Gack.)

Mistaken Identity, Part Deux:

Ha!

Finally:

Happy Detectiversary to us!

*No offense intended to anyone on this show.  After all, you have a job that doesn't involve picking up people's sweaty towels.  Unlike me.  Oy. 

Struck.

This morning Will called me at work.

We're tied.

Tied to what? I asked him.

Our blog stats, he responded, we're neck and neck.

I've had a recent spike in readership due to being mistaken for a hot young screenwriter, videoblogging about the strike from the perspective of a writer that doesn't have a gazillion dollar overall deal and a harem of trained circus monkeys to do my bidding, and a couple of shout-outs on teh Intrawebz.  While my husband gets turned on by hot labor activist action, I'm a gambling woman.

Then let's make it interesting, I told him.

Working at the gym, I'm completely cut off from the online world, as we have a computer but it's just for show.  So when Will called me at 11:00am, I knew something was up.

We need to reschedule the bet, he told me.

You can't reschedule a bet!

But I got a mention in MediaBistro's Fishbowl LA today.  It's not fair, I'll beat you.

Then you'll beat me, but I won't welch on a bet.  What kind of pussy do you think I am?*

...

I mentioned our little picketing crew in my last post, but you can see us in action here.  That's Tomas rocking the bullhorn.  I hear myself on tape all of the time, but so I shouldn't be constantly surprised that I sound like the lovechild of Kathy Griffith and Betty Boop.

...

I couldn't make it out to the picket line today.  Fridays nearly always decimate me as I work from 5:30am 'til 2pm.  I didn't get to sleep until 1am last night, so you can see how that would be problematic.  So I'll just leave you with a sign from a very generous bunny:

*This is the sort of talk that gets me Hot Labor Activist Action, so you may want to try this out at home.