May 30, 2012 § Leave a comment
I know I took a little time off, but it wasn’t you… it was me. I was working at an Indian Casino losing 5 years off my life from second hand smoke for minutes of primetime summer programming. 8 minutes to be exact. And you know what kind of hours it takes to produce 8 minutes of TV? I’ll fill you in later when I write the memoir.
Anyway, recently I’m applying for this sitcom writing thing, totally a long shot, but whatever. I wrote a little ditty for the application and thought, “you know who might enjoy this?”
So here you go, the crass is back!
The gravitational pull television has on me is arcane considering I grew up with a one hour time limit on the tube, sans cable. “Go play outside,” was the summer cry. Threats of, “Oh I’ll give you something to do,” came after the first frost. Although, the display wasn’t something to be pining over. It was the size of a microwave. Not until I moved out did my parents spring for the 42 inch plasma, surround sound, pay-per-view, premium channels, you name it, the works. But I couldn’t be bitter. My dorm/prison had basic cable complementing my studies as well as frat boys down the hall. Sorry, Dad.
The aptitude test I took in 9th grade told me I should go into entertainment. I scoffed in my rebellion. How cliché for a small town country bumpkin to give up her life on daddy’s farm by setting her sights on Tinsel Town? My poetry class taught me to be allergic to clichés. However, after a decade and four years side tracked by photography, here I am. Now I tell everyone that being a Gen-Y white female from rural Midwest who enjoys a good fart joke makes me minority in this town. My voice is worth listening to.
Reflecting back on my coveted hour basking in the blue glow of sitcoms and possible seizure, I see where my alliance to television was solidified. Perfect Strangers, The Cosby Show, Cheers; funny how even my parents’ restrictive viewing allowed me to indulge in the comings and goings at a bar owned by a womanizer. There were other rules, like when Jerry’s set was over during the opening titles of Seinfeld; I had to go brush my teeth. My curiosity almost gave me an aneurism. I’d have killed to know what my father was belly laughing at as I waited for him to tuck me in on the commercial break. If I had to pinpoint the moment, it was this uproar of laughter that drove me here today. I’m on the quest to make the people I love laugh. And when I call him to complain about the lack of air-conditioning in my car for the third summer, I let him know that.