Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Deb from clearance is the newest member of Stef Willen's rich fantasy life

https://www.mcsweeneys.net/articles/column-19-im-here


I spent two years, working on a popular reality show. I made my way up from a lowly Production Assistant to an Associate Producer, but I quit the day Deb from clearance started decorating the office window with Halloween decals a month in advance. It wasn’t the fact she was covering up our only natural light source with pumpkins that felt so suffocating, it was the sudden realization that there was no light at this job for me. I didn’t want to become a producer.

Me talking: So here she "makes her way up." to be a producer on this "popular reality show," but she quits in September(a month before Halloween.) So sudden realizations and insipid coworkers, who displeased the self satisfied Stephanie Willen, are the implicit and explicit reasons for the cessation of Willen's illustrious reality TV future.

Well, at least that's the story as of column 19 - in what amounts to a stolen Mcsweeney's contest win(but that's a whole other terrible and true story.)

Let us flash back to 10 columns before, and my least favorite fabulist once again has failed to fabricate effectively:


https://www.mcsweeneys.net/articles/column-9-the-balloon-bottom-epoch


Five years earlier, I was working on a popular reality show. Before the holiday break, the executive producer pulled me into his office and said to call him in January because he was moving to another show and wanted to bring me with him and make me a producer. I bragged about it to family and friends. I think I even bought a blazer. When I was back in Los Angeles, I called him but the line got all fuzzy when he answered.
“Hello? Hello?” He’d said. “HELL-O-O-O? Who is this?”
I told him it was me several times then hung up, and feeling nervous and embarrassed, waited a week before I rang him again. I called him from a laundromat because it seemed less scary to crowd the phone call with the sounds of strangers instead of the silence of my apartment and hope.
“Hi Todd, it’s me…”
“Hello? Who? I can’t hear you. Hello?”
The line crackled and got fuzzy, so I hung up and never called him again. I convinced myself he had changed his mind about me. But quite possibly the only reason I’m not a reality TV producer right now is because of bad phone reception. I think I’d hate being a reality producer, though. I’d rather have the freedom to document people’s lives as I see them instead of getting network notes to cut and paste their thoughts, splice their boring humanity with B roll footage of them doing something dramatic.

Me talking: No Deb from clearance. No pumpkins. No quitting. Now it's not September see... It's a different holiday now- pre Christmas or something, and a Todd spots that something special in our disturbingly disturbed and deceptive dilettante oops I mean our hapless but so very sure she's super special protagonist. She's thrilled. Who wouldn't be. Now she can stop working for that hag Amy Alkon and grifting while living with two women she keeps accusing of being domestic abusers, racists,and antisemites. Wait no that would be the real story if the producer promotion tale was true. Don't mind me and the facts though...Just read what she wrote when forgetting the lies of columns to come.



These Mcsweeney lies are such benign lies compared to the evil and malicious lies she told against me. Malicious and deeply destructive lies leading to my discovery of the more benign lies and to the loss of what she stole from my sister and I? That is some interesting form of poetic justice if so.
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