Comedy Writer
Many people don’t realize how hilarious I am and that’s becoming a bit of a problem.
I really just want to be a comedy writer and sit in a conference room with a bunch of hilarious geniuses and laugh all day long. I’d be cashing some fat checks too. Don’t forget about that. I’d be stuffing my mattress with thousand dollar bills.
Every time I joke around with a friend or someone in the office I feel like somebody aught to be jotting this down. They’re just coming to me, these jokes, one after another and each more hilarious than the last.
Maybe it’s the fact that I’m a little understated, too deadpan. My sense of humor is too dry. People don’t get it right away but a few days down the line they’re laughing their fool heads off thinking about some remark I casually let fly. My delivery is to die for. My timing, superb. My connections nil.
I want to be a comedy writer and live in a mansion and eat at Muso & Franks every night and rub tweed elbows with the big shots in Hollywood. I want to call a few shots and break a few hearts and drive a big Caddy around town and not sweat the price of gas. Hey, God, you up there? Isn’t there anything we can do?
