You guys, Abby and I were out to dinner the other night, and this woman came up to us and said, "Excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt, but weren't you in that extremely depressing play?" And Abby got all skittery and shy--but gracious!--and said, "Um, yeah." And then the lady started gushing about how wonderful she was. It was really weird. I feel like Felicity's handyman husband who looks like her twin brother or Julia Robert's cameraman husband or the dude from Lost's wife who wants to open a salon.
I can't wait till she appeals to all of middle America and then I can live in a hammock on a beach somewhere off the spoils of her labor. Actually we could probably do that now, if only she would recognize her calling as a seaside bartender. She could search for doubloons with a metal detector in her spare time to keep me in mai-tais.