She's a special guest star in my dreams.
She's not a part of the regular cast, or a recurring character involved in some season-long story arc. She's that special someone mentioned right after the opening credit sequence, or used up front in the commercials promoting that week's show: "...and this week's special guest..."
And in this dream she plays this woman I go out on a first date with. And it's a perfect date. Sure it is, aren't all dates perfect in that parallel TV dream world? Where everything said is witty and pointed, where speculations about life, love and the Florida election are right on the money?
The laugh track provides the cues needed to keep me and the cast on our toes. After all, we rehearsed the script a little over a week ago. As a matter of fact, here's the strange thing: the show's script has never changed. We rehearse simply for the benefit of the special guest star. The same things happen, the same people appear every week. Everything is constant, except for that special guest.
It's always the same. The first date goes well, but thereafter, everything goes downhill. I ask her if I could see her again because we had a great time. Or maybe it was just I who had a great time.
Cue the chuckles.
She says great, give her a call. I call a few days later on her cell phone and she says she's on the road -- can she call me back when she gets home? So I wait for two days before I call her at work (guess she didn't get home, huh?).
Cue the HA-HA's.
Like I said, I wait two days and call her at work. She says she's right in the middle of something -- can she call me back later? I don't hear from her again.
Cue huge guffaws. Cut to commercial. Fade to black.
I meet, wine and dine, and say goodbye to my special guest in a span of 47 minutes, minus the car ads ("...DOO DOO LIKE A PINK MOON..."), Ronco infommercials ("...SAVES YOU TIME AND MONEY...") and CD compilation commercials that all seem to have the same phone number ("...CALL 1-800-257-1234..."). Those magical 47 minutes are where I live and die by chivalry: the initial "connection" I feel with her, the courage I gather to ask her out, and the fading -- the fading of...
And then the episode ends, and I wake up, wondering who'll be my next special guest star.
I certainly don't know. Tune in next week...
She's not a part of the regular cast, or a recurring character involved in some season-long story arc. She's that special someone mentioned right after the opening credit sequence, or used up front in the commercials promoting that week's show: "...and this week's special guest..."
And in this dream she plays this woman I go out on a first date with. And it's a perfect date. Sure it is, aren't all dates perfect in that parallel TV dream world? Where everything said is witty and pointed, where speculations about life, love and the Florida election are right on the money?
The laugh track provides the cues needed to keep me and the cast on our toes. After all, we rehearsed the script a little over a week ago. As a matter of fact, here's the strange thing: the show's script has never changed. We rehearse simply for the benefit of the special guest star. The same things happen, the same people appear every week. Everything is constant, except for that special guest.
It's always the same. The first date goes well, but thereafter, everything goes downhill. I ask her if I could see her again because we had a great time. Or maybe it was just I who had a great time.
Cue the chuckles.
She says great, give her a call. I call a few days later on her cell phone and she says she's on the road -- can she call me back when she gets home? So I wait for two days before I call her at work (guess she didn't get home, huh?).
Cue the HA-HA's.
Like I said, I wait two days and call her at work. She says she's right in the middle of something -- can she call me back later? I don't hear from her again.
Cue huge guffaws. Cut to commercial. Fade to black.
I meet, wine and dine, and say goodbye to my special guest in a span of 47 minutes, minus the car ads ("...DOO DOO LIKE A PINK MOON..."), Ronco infommercials ("...SAVES YOU TIME AND MONEY...") and CD compilation commercials that all seem to have the same phone number ("...CALL 1-800-257-1234..."). Those magical 47 minutes are where I live and die by chivalry: the initial "connection" I feel with her, the courage I gather to ask her out, and the fading -- the fading of...
And then the episode ends, and I wake up, wondering who'll be my next special guest star.
I certainly don't know. Tune in next week...
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