this is the end

woman who taps my shoulder: “have you been to a taping for this show before?”

me: “no, you?”

her: “yea, this is my second time. the last time we were here until midnight”.

me: “WHAT?!”

her: “well, they taped the first season. and i broke up with my boyfriend”.

me: “huh, it must’ve been good if you came back after all that”.

her: “well, i broke up with him again”.

me: “so, if you don’t break up with him again, you’ll never attend another tv taping?”

her: “probably not”.

that was about my third sign that this was probably not what i signed up for. when we got out of the elevator, the “craft services” with tzatiki sandwiches and fruit rollups were the worst sign, because if they’re feeding people before they go in, it’s gonna be a long one.

i did the whole two minute rule (if things don’t change in two minutes, bounce) and made the executive decision that after giving an hour of my precious day off (with 8 episodes of power burning a hole in my apartment) i was done, so i just took the elevator back down and walked out the door onto front street.

just like when they almost broke my jaw and i knew that i was done doing experiments, this is the end of my career as being an audience member-until jimmy fallon, of course. i don’t know-maybe i’m just spoiled from years of being in the strombo audience, but these two-bit zee-list shows that i’m being invited to wait hours for to tape are just not cutting it.

so, that’s it. back to the tv on dvd-by the way, power is fire. i even like the theme song, i’m glad that bankrupt 50 has been seeing the same speech therapist as charles barkley. enunciation for days.


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