I had just started my cushy new job as a reporter, well I use the term “reporter” very loosely as the I was reporting for TMZ. They pulled me in as a guest reporter when the sex video of me and Reece Witherspoon started to circulate. I didn’t have the heart to correct them [as I would never have slept with a closet Bush supporter], and besides, I had already cashed the check they sent me [I was in desperate need to get my nails did].
Anywho, I was leisurely sitting at my desk rolling bits of Play-Doh into small little balls when some PA comes over to me and asks me what I was doing.
“Look, scrub, first of all, you do not look me in the face, you can address the cubical wall, but not personally, as if I were the wall, rather you will talk to the wall as if it were a medium.” I chastised him. You really have to put these PAs in place from the get-go, otherwise they’ll sell your story to some trashy tabloid show.
“A medium?” He asked the wall.
“Yeah, you know, like Tangina.” I answered, not looking up from my task. “So what do you want?”
“Harvey wants to know what you are doing.”
“Harvey? Is that like your imaginary rabbit?” I asked, then addressed the empty space next to him. “Oh, hi Harvey, how are you?” I said with some sarcasm, I know, it’s really hard for me to be sarcastic. “Well, Harvey, I think it’s obvious what I’m doing. I’m making Dippin’ Dots, I would make some spaghetti, but my press is broken.” I said, indicating to the broken Play-Doh factory on my desk. Needless to say, those things work for shit on walnuts. “Do you want some Dippin’ Dots, Harvey?” I asked, offering the empty space my Doh Dippin’ Dots. Then I realized that everyone was standing around and the room was filled with cameras. “What’s the deal, is this like Big Brother or something?”
“No, we’re doing a show, live,” some Jew-ey lookin’ dude tersely answered, “and all eyes are on you.”
“Well then obviously you heard me before, you do not look me in the face, you can address the cubical wall—"
“You’re fired.” He interrupted.
“Wait, what?”
“You heard me.”
“You can’t fire me! I was in that tape, you know, the one,” I said, winking to the camera, “the one with Reece.”
“No, you weren’t. Our sources discovered that it was Denise Richards, not you.”
“Scissor-me-timbers!”
“Yeah, and we’ll be wanting that check back.”
“Uhm, yeah… about that… can I pay you back in Marlboro Miles?”
Well, long story short, I was able to sell my story to Extra, you know a credible news source, and then pay this Harvey Levin guy back, well, he did take half of the payment in Marlboro Miles, I swear, sometimes it seems like I’ll never get that jacket…
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