I wish I could one of those bloggers who just writes little tidbits all throughout the day\/week, getting the thoughts down as they come. But I can’t. For me, it’s generally spew out a ton of thoughts at once or clam up. I’m like that in real life, too. Well, except for the clam up part.<\/p>\n
The more there is to blog about, generally the less time I have to blog. It’s been a busy few days. Of course, often the stuff that is most interesting, I don’t blog about. In case folks are wondering how I can go on and on about the inconsequential tidbits of my life and ignore the big picture stuff, it’s because some things I like to keep private. I admire folks who can pour out their hearts about things such as the Columbia<\/i> tragedy or go on in great detail about their personal life, but I’m not comfortable spilling those kinds of things out. So instead, you get to hear inanities such as:<\/p>\n
Why I’m Annoyed at a Certain Prime-Time Actress<\/b> My Pillowcase<\/b> Why I’m No Longer Annoyed with a Certain Prime-Time Actress<\/b>
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There’s a certain actress, who I shall not name, who is on a certain NBC sitcom, which I shall not name, whom I was assigned to write a story about. After a first PR person wouldn’t call me back, I randomly chose another name off the NBC menu, and voila! She was pleasant and nice and hooked me up with said actress’s personal publicist. We arrange for an interview at 6 p.m. my time on Tuesday. I’m a little stressed about being late for my 6:30 sewing class because that is the night we were making our first project. Pillowcases! Very excited about the pillowcases. Especially because my parents gave us those super comfy Tempur-Pedic<\/a> pillows and none of our pillowcases fit on them properly. I picked out this lovely ivory fabric with tiny white flowers on it, so I could finally make pillow cases that fit! Am I digressing? I think perhaps I am. But, I figure, 6 p.m., interview for about 15 minutes, I can get to class no more than five minutes late. So the office is empty. And I mean empty. I’m sitting at my desk. Waiting for the phone to ring. Waiting for the phone to ring. Waiting more for the phone to ring. I’m doing a little Web surfing, looking for information on her shows. Waiting. I’m IMing Adam my intense frustration that the phone isn’t ringing, because I don’t want to call out, as our phone system shoots a caller straight to voicemail if you’re on another call (wasn’t I supposed to stop having problems like the phone not ringing once I got married?). Finally, at 6:20, I call the publicist. “Oh, let me get X on the line for you.” So now I’m<\/i> sweating, thinking, “Oh my gosh, was I<\/i> supposed to call her<\/i>?” But no, I’m 99 percent sure the publicist said she’d call me. Anyway, Publicist gets back on the phone after a few minutes and says, “I’m sorry, can X call you back? She’s still in production.” Not wanting to miss pillowcases, I ask, “How long?” Publicist says, “Oh about ten minutes. If you like, she can call you on your cell,” which doesn’t work for me because a) I can’t talk and drive. Hell, I can’t do anything<\/i> and drive; b) I can’t hook up my tape recorder to my cell phone, and c) I want to make friggin’ pillowcases, not sit in the hall whispering a phone interview. So I wait. And wait. And wait. La la la. I’m starting to look up all the negative reviews about the show. It’s making me feel a little better. Finally at 6:52, the phone rings. I answer in my perky voice, because that’s what I’m paid to do, only I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t hear Ms. X\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s voice but Publicist. “Jenny, I am so, so sorry. Would it be possible to reschedule this for tomorrow?” I grit my teeth and work on cheerful as I agree, jotting the time in my calendar and running–I mean running<\/i>–to class. I made it 45 minutes late with a lot of huffing and puffing, but the teacher was cool about it, which brings me to…<\/p>\n
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It is beautiful. I mean beautiful. Okay, the hem isn’t that straight and don’t look too closely at the interior zig zag stitches ’cause I don’t want you to notice that there are two sets, because I messed up the first one, but it’s a beautiful pillowcase. It’s on my pillow right now as we speak. It would have been on Adam’s<\/a> pillow, because I can be nice like that, but he was at a sports bar watching basketball with friends and when I called at 9, he said he’d be home soon, but he didn’t get home until close to 11, which is so not<\/i> soon, so I kept the pillowcase for myself, because I can be vindictive like that. But I had a good night’s sleep, which is a fine thing, because I had to interview Ms. X the next day, which brings me to…<\/p>\n
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She called right on time on Wednesday morning and she was as nice as nice could be. God forbid, she was the kind of gal that I think I’d actually want to hang out with if I knew her in person. Terribly goofy. Said things every now and then that made me want to say to her, “Um, you do know I’m a writer? That I’m going to be writing this stuff down?” but I found that all the more endearing. And it’s not like I write for the Globe<\/i><\/a> or anything. I’m not exactly looking to dig up dirt. I wish I could name her, so you could all watch her show, but since I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t write about work, I can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t do it. Although maybe one of these days I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll post the link to her interview on my work writing page<\/a> and you\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll be able to figure out who she is.<\/p>\n