Shelby Fero is a screenwriter and comedian who needs to get a website.
12:00 am: I’ve now been “watching” Entourage for about an hour. A comic — who I hope I can refer to as my “friend” — has decided to marathon every episode of the hit HBO show Entourage before seeing the movie, while Funny or Die live streams it; it’s clearly a mistake for both him and me. But, for the record? Entourage was a good show. Entourage is a good show. If you like Mad Men, you like Entourage. Entourage is the Mad Men of Mad Men. Entourage is a bleak portrayal of the Hollywood trap. My sixth grade math teacher never stopped talking about it. I mention this, and people laugh. While they’re laughing, I whisper to my friend next to me: my sixth grade math teacher then got Lou Gherig’s disease. He announces this, and a very funny bit springs out of it. I think Mr. Piccetti would appreciate it.
I got too high before this and I’m like a 1/3 of the way to sobering up. I refuse a microphone in case I accidentally slander Samsung, who heavily invest in Funny or Die. The 64 oz of Diet Peach Snapple I brought with me to drink has become a bit that I don’t know how to keep up with because drinking it feels so normal to me. I wonder what it says about me that I don’t want to stay and I never want to leave. (Honestly: Just check the live stream here if you really care about time specifics.)
HIGHLIGHTS OF THE NIGHT:
-I’ve brought my own comforter and finally get a spot on the couch. It feels like a victory.
-As we hit about 1:45 am and season 3 of Entourage, Gil jumps in the freezing cold pool. It’s a bad idea. I’m weirdly relieved to hear the other adults/comedians there tell him immediately that he should get out. He stays in almost too long.
-Gil’s gonna vomit for sure. As someone who used to not eat/still has low blood pressure/once got forgotten after swim practice during one of California’s cold snaps, I know what it looks like when someone’s about to pass out; Gil is about to pass out. I try to be a ~cool girl~ while forcing him to get his head lower than his heart (FYI: If your blood pressure drops, your body faints because it’s trying to get blood to your head. If blood doesn’t get to your head — ie. if you’re sitting in a chair so you can’t fall flat — you have a seizure.)
-Ben Rodgers gives Gil shit for feeling bad. It’s fucking funny.
-Gemberling won’t stop farting. I’ve only met him once, the day before, and I can’t stop laughing. (I wonder if he knows I consider him a comedy hero.)
4:11 am: Honestly, I would stay all night — I’m VERY lonely — but I figure I should go home. On the twenty minute drive I get so nervous about a talk I’m planning to have with someone the next day that I start to throw up in my mouth. I wonder whether or not I’ll include that in this write up. I settle on a half truth.
4:40 am – 1:10 pm: Sleep and sleep and sleep. I wake up a few times, to check my phone or because of an Entourage based nightmare — but I’m pretty committed to getting rest. Finally, at my 1:110 pm alarm I decide to stay awake. Partially cause I don’t want to bleed through my tampon, partially because I hate when you stay in bed so long you miss the sun going down.
1:20 pm PST/4:20 pm EST: I make a guy I (dated? Hung with? Used as a band-aid for my own unyielding loneliness?) while I was in NY about 3 weeks ago video chat with me. I force him to quantify his feelings towards me. He sorta does. I feel ok about it. His friends seem cool and I’m bummed that I live in a city where I can go two weeks without seeing anybody. I can’t tell if I’m happy so I ask my friend to go on a hike.
2:50 pm: Spent a long time doodling. Felt good. Drew myself as a porcupine skewered by other porcupines (Hedgehog’s Dilemma).
3:45 pm: Friend picks me up from grocery store. I can’t tell if the cashiers there notice I buy the same thing every day or care. I ask one of them about a new product at the counter. I give the interaction a solid B+.
4:00 pmish: My friend Ellie picks me up. Her dog Milo is in the car and I want to tuck him into my uterus and never let him out.
4:15pm-7:00: Ellie and I talk. About, you know, whatever. Do you really even care? Fuck you.
7:15 pm: Ellie drops me off at home. I paint my nails a color I call “cosmis jizz” and apply a hair mask because I’m sad for no reason. Maybe I’m sad because NY boy seems sad. I hate myself for allowing my emotions to be dictated.
7:45 pm: Damn my hair is soft.
9:00 pm: En route to more Entourage. Cause like, why not? I realize I didn’t grow up with these comics, and am not in their peer group — but I love them, and respect them, and enjoy their company so much that I’ll take it even in the most contrived circumstances.
11:00 pmish: Thomas Middleditch shows up. I constantly assume we’re MUCH better friends than we are because we’ve met a couple times and I’ve seen Improvised Shakespeare a few times. FWIW: My coworkers and I at my favorite job went together and when Patrick Stewart came out onstage I started crying. They didn’t agree that was a healthy reaction.
12:00 am: A party has sprung up around Gil watching Entourage. I’m tired. I’m too high. Starting to spiral in my head about the Uncanny Valley of friendships around me. Sure I can talk to these guys, but I miss the people my age, who I’ll be doing this shit with in 10 years (hopefully). I ask my friend to order me an Uber home because I don’t have the app — he’s nice enough to do it. I don’t talk once the ride home. It’s nice.