A confession

A confession: I have this recurring dream that I work for Tina Fey. She still has her old job as head writer for SNL in the dream and I’m always a lowly peon. Nonetheless, I’m not gonna lie, it’s pretty amazing.

“If you want to make an audience laugh, you dress a man up like an old lady and push him down the stairs. If you want to make comedy writers laugh, you push an actual old lady down the stairs.”

One of these dreams a few months ago went all the way to the end of a week, including watching the show from monitors in a different room, to the point that it was an afterparty situation and one of the host’s friends asked me out to some club to see a midget do stand-up, and I was all pumped, and as I exited the floor I noted that Tina Fey was still in her office working, but I totally wanted to go with the host’s cute friend and see the midget do stand-up, so I skedaddled anyway, although I felt compunctions of guilt about it.

Then we were walking down this very realistic skeezy street to the comedy club, and suddenly I thought, “Oh, no! This isn’t right, I should tell him I’m married,” and I woke myself up. Cheez-its! I totally missed seeing the midget, and maybe even smoochytimes with the guy! I kill my own game in dreams constantly. I need to think about this.

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