It aired.
It finally. Freaking. Aired.
After months of crazy anticipation (Am I gonna miss it? Am I gonna cry? Will people think it's dumb? Will I look like an absolute heffer?...IS THIS GONNA BE THE COOLEST THING EVER?!?!), my little baby moment in the sun aired on HBO on Halloween night.
...As in this past Monday, after the happiest weekend of my life when my best friend got hitched and was, incidentally, the most beautiful bride I've ever seen and I was, incidentally, the most ecstatic and heart-happy and nerrrrrrrrrvous Maid of Honor that ever was. Fine.
Coming off of such a weekend, I felt as if HBO could be a perfect little button to a perfect little week.
I hoped.
...
It's funny how when you do these kind of things--take these (what YOU know to be) significant steps in your professional life, or your personal life, or whathaveyou--that there are people just kind of standing by seemingly waiting to pounce and shit on you.
Maybe this isn't on purpose. But just the same.
I'm leaving the gym a week ago and have a text from a co-worker (who I happen to like):
"Hey I gotta tell u something, can u call work when u get a chance? Its pretty important and work UNrelated."
A miniature panic ensued--why WOULDN'T it after a set-up like that?!--and I called straight away.
"Heyyyyyyyyy."
Hi! What's...going on? Is everything ok?
"Welllllll..."
...
"I have something to tell you and you might already know, but I thought you'd want to know in case you didn't. And I wanted to tell you."
OK...
"It's not good."
...
"..That's not the best lead-in, I know, I'm sorry."
Yeah. So...
...
"Someone started streaming your episode online last night."
(...Oh!) Oh! OK.
"Well, we watched it last night."
Alright. That's fine.
"They cut your scene."
...
...
WHAT?!
"Yeahhhhh."
Wait. What do you mean?
"Well. ...You're still in it, you're there." (OK...) "But, you only say one liiiiine."
(... ...Really?)
Actually, I...I only have the one line.
"Oh. ... ...Well, it's like really quick."
Yeah.
"I mean, just like a really fast little clip of you. Like a blur."
...Sure. OK.
"But you look BEAUTIFUL. You're just...you're not there much."
But I still speak? (Right?!)
"...Yeah..."
(Oh.) Then that's fine. That's totally OK if you still see me saying my line. I didn't expect it to be some long crazy epic scene.
"Well, just, no. I know. I just didn't want you to be disappointed."
(HOW COULD I BE DISAPPOINTED?!) I won't be. It's fine.
"But really. It's not much. And I've heard that it always feels different and, like, more on-set than what ends up on screen."
(...What's your point, here?) Sure. But, I knew that going into it, too. And that's OK.
"Oh! OK. Well, I just wanted to be the one to tell you."
...
WHY?!?!
I was so totally confused. Was she expecting me to feel bad about being on a show on HBO having only one line to say? I WAS STILL GOING TO BE ON A SHOW ON HBO WITH A LINE TO SAY!! You would see my face, you would hear my voice...I was featured on the trailer for the episode, how could I POSSIBLY feel bad about that?!
How could I feel bad about taking any kind of step forward?!
And then, of course, I sat back and assessed for a sec--once I finished stomping around and brushed my shoulders off--and thought: Why would she have thought otherwise? Few people outside of this profession understand how many steps you have to take before you can walk out of Obscurity. Cut a girl some slack.
...But don't listen to her.
I still found myself venting to my genius sweetheart lawyer-roommate later that day.
"Ew! Fuck that!"
Right?!
"Yeah. Angela, please. Has she been on TV in any way at all ever?"
No. No.
"Then, fuck it. Don't let her rain on your parade. This is way too exciting."
...
...Even though it is only one line?
"Whoa. Yes. ESPECIALLY because it's one line."
I mean, right. Right.
"...You're not allowed to do that."
Do what?
"You can't knock yourself for a triumph. No matter how large or small. All of these things need to be celebrated, always, and so we are having people over, and we are dressing up, and having drinks, and watching you speak on television. And it's gonna be great."
...Goddammit, I love you. OK.
And so, we cleaned our apartment, got some wine, made hors d'oeuves, put on cute little dresses, gathered some friends, and turned to HBO at 9pm.
That's the role I was originally called in for.
"Oh. Why is that girl so familiar?"
Flight of the Concords.
"Riiiiiiiiiiight. ...You'd be so much better."
You're sweet.
...
"How does your family feel about the Plushie-sex in this episode?"
I didn't tell 'em.
"Ah. OK."
...
"Is that the restaurant? Is that where you filmed?"
It is.
"So. Is it happening soon?!"
I think so...
"EEEEEEEEEE!!!"
...
That's my head.
"That totally is."
...
And then:
"Fire!"
And a girl in an amazing dress shoots up out of a chair. Looking horrified.
FIRE?!
"YAYAYAYAYAYAYYYYYYY!!!!!"
"YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!"
"YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAAYAYYYYYYY!!!!"
And then, we rewound it 5 times. And then we all took turns saying it. And then we shrieked some more.
And then my NAME scrolled across the credits as "Female Patron 2", and it was generic as all hell, but it was official.
And that was it. And it was great :)
I can say I've done it, officially--that I've taken my first big girl-step in this particular chunk of my career. And no, it's not the recurring role that I initially went in for.
But it's still exposure. And visibility.
And an IMDB-credit.
And a step.
And I'll take it. I'll take all of it. And revel in my little triumph.
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