Partly Cloudy, 64°
Looking back, I did everything right. All the pieces were set to fall perfectly into place with me at the helm of a progressive, witty, female-led sitcom. That is, if that damn Julia Louis-Dreyfus hadn’t foiled my plans.
Do you know how hard it is to find a sitcom with a strong female character? Nearly impossible! And somehow she gets Seinfeld AND Veep? How could I ever have accounted for that kind of staying power? I paid my dues and waited but that woman is incessant. Were you bored raking in all that Seinfeld money and critical acclaim, Julia? Is that why you auditioned for Veep and stole it right from under me?
You know, I thought she was gonna take a blow after “The New Adventures of Old Christine,” that I was finally going to have a chance at playing the parts I wanted. But, as per usual, everything came up roses for Julia. Perfect, perfect Julia. She gets Veep and I get the scummy scraps on basic cable. Where’s the justice in that?
We used to run in the same circles, Julia and I. Coming up in the business, we used to talk about our goals with each other. Hell, I looked up to her back then. But that was before I saw her for what she really is: a monster. She took everything from me, throwing me under the bus so that she could achieve the goals we had talked about together.
Now, at the Emmy’s, when she’s giving her inevitable lead actress acceptance speech, I pray they don’t cut to me because I just can’t hide my emotions. I’m rolling my eyes, cracking my knuckles, grating my jaw because I KNOW that should be me up there.
Yes, Modern Family has given me two Emmys and some sweet syndication money. But I am drowning in this god damn ensemble cast. All I ask, just once, is that I be recognized for a lead role. That’s never been a problem for Julia. She’s always the star of the show. And, while we’re at it, it’d be nice to work with some god damn adults for a change.
I’m not proud but, every role she’s in, I picture myself playing it better. I’m saying the fast-paced dialogue just a little bit quicker, making my neuroses just a little bit more charming, coming off as just a little bit more relatable. I’m in control. I’m every woman. And, God, I am good. If they’d only give me a chance.
