My 7 Minutes & 23 Seconds of Fame

Feb 12

(But who’s counting.)

Hey! In case you didn’t notice, I did a TV appearance. Here it is:



When you’re on TV, people ask you all sorts of questions:

Were you nervous?
Beforehand, yes, a bit jittery. But not at all during the actual show. Maybe you zone (as in The Twilight Zone) out because it’s so surreal.

But you looked so relaxed on the show.
I was! It was early in the morning, when I’d be barely awake on a normal day, so I may not have been fully conscious. Who remembers? Then too, the hosts were welcoming, the set is relaxed, and what the hell, I wanted to do this, right?

So, no worries?
Well, not exactly. A few days before my minutes of fame, I had all kinds of crazy thoughts. What if I got the flu? Everyone else has it. The thing is, I never get the flu, but I didn’t get the shot this year, and that guy next to me on bus doesn’t look all that healthy. Or what if I’m hit by one of my allergy-induced bouts of sneezing. Like 10, 15 serious sneezes in a row. Could be disconcerting on camera.

I also could have broken out in hives, walked into a door and sustained bruises that couldn’t be hidden by makeup, or been afflicted by “any of the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.” Hey, Shakespeare thought of that, not me. “To be on television, or not to be on television.” Is that the question he’d be asking these days?

But none of that happened.
Nope. Sometimes life is good.

What are Rosanna and Greg like?
What you see is what you get. Greg Kelly is nice looking, bright, and a bit of an Oscar the Grouch on the subject of Valentine’s Day.

Rosanna is, well, Rosanna. She is New York’s answer to Sara Lee: Nobody, but nobody, doesn’t love Rosanna Scotto. She made me feel at home immediately by taking the cough drop I didn’t know what to do with, wrapping it in a tissue (I think) and tucking it in between those famous yellow cushions. I’m not really sure about the tissue.

How did you decide what to wear?
With difficulty. But I’m glad I picked the red dress that I had bought in the event that someone asked me to appear on a morning talk show. It popped against the yellow couch, with or without the cough drops.

Where’d you get the dress?  (If I were more than 7 minutes and 23 seconds worth of famous, the question would be, “Who are you Wearing?)

Well, I did a bit of a Michelle Obama, and went non-designer on this one. Unless you count Ann Taylor as a designer. I really hesitated about buying this red number, though, because I wasn’t sure it was right for me, an impression furthered by the salesgirl (I know I should say saleswoman or salesperson, but she was barely 20 if that, and that’s a girl to me) saying that she got the same dress with polka dotted tights to go with it. Very subtle polka dots, she assured me, but still. In spite of this, I purchased the thing, and had the perfect place to wear it . . .

Did they send a car for you?
Wait a minute. I said I shopped like Michelle Obama. I am NOT Michelle Obama. And no, they didn’t send a car.

Did the segment go the way you expected?
Not exactly. But not in a bad way. We didn’t do as much with the quiz as planned, so a lot of the humor was lost (you can find it by clicking on the Valentine’s Day Quiz). But they were very good about plugging my book and my blog. And for some reason, I found myself talking about being one of the first women to writie comic books, and people seemed to like that. On the other hand, I forgot to mention that I was inspired by the essays of Nora Ephron and that some (very kind) reviewers have compared my writing to hers.

Was this your first time?
Excuse me? Oh, the show. No, I did a book tour for The Official Kids’ Survival Kit, including some national stuff and Kathy Lee and Regis (remember them?), but it was a while back.

What was the weirdest part?
Seeing Deborah Norville in the “green room” (I think it was kinda beige) and realizing the following: For these few minutes of “fame,” I had to go through all kinds of preparations—making the pitch, writing the quiz, picking the dress and the accessories (I even dithered over whether to go with black tights or sheer pantyhose, although I gave no thought whatsoever to polka dots, and wore shoes I couldn’t walk in, which you never got to see anyway), not to mention the nails, the hair, the makeup— and for her, it was just a day at the office. One of her offices: she has her own show a few hours later and probably has a wardrobe full of perfect little black (or red) dresses like the one she had on. And Rosanna does this for 3 hours a day, 5 days a week and makes it look easy.


But still. How does it feel to have had 7 minutes and 23 seconds of fame?

Like I’m owed 7 minutes and 37 seconds more!
Good Morning, America: Are you listening???

Was it fun? Would you do it again?
Oh yes. Any time. 
Rosanna, you have my number . . .

A truly surreal moment above: Me watching me.

But enough about me. How do you feel about all this?      

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