Yesterday, my roommate and I saw a Writer’s Guild panel featuring the writers from The Mindy Project. I brought along a copy of her play, Matt and Ben for her to sign and wore a neon pink jeans/chambray shirt/leopard print loafer outfit picked out with Mindy Kaling’s tastes in mind just incase we ran into her in the parking lot. The Girl Scouts taught me to always be prepared and that Samoas are at optimal deliciousness when consumed frozen.
They screened an episode and talked for an hour about what it’s like writing for the show, and then opened it up to the audience for questions.
Civilians asking celebrities questions is one of my top 100 pet peeves. It hovers around #48 right above people clinking their teeth on metal spoons when they eat. People just want to hear themselves talk. Like, unless James Lipton specifically asks you, no one needs to know what your major is in college. And it’s not necessary for 10 people in a row to thank the panel for coming. You paid to be there. Your gratitude is felt.
I considered asking a question, and I racked my brain for a good one until I realized that the only reason why I wanted to go up there was so Mindy would compliment my outfit and thoughtful question. There would be a witty back and forth between us, then I’d tweet her later that night, and we’d become social media friends until one day her assistant quits and she hires me and I become her protege and spirit sister.
By the by, living with my imagination is exhausting.
So, that was the wrong reason to ask a question, and I decided to just keep my mouth shut.
(But you should have seen my outfit, Mindy would have been so into it).