I read it on the internets, and the internets would not lie.
'Life of the Party'
The Minearverse 4: Support Group for Clumsy People
[NAFDA] "There will be an occasional happy, so that it might be crushed under the boot of the writer." From Zorro to Angel (including Wonderfalls and The Inside), this is where Buffistas come to anoint themselves in the bloodbath.
Kristin, you were amazing before those idiots didn't give you the ultimate prize, and you're still amazing now. We have faith in you.
Hey, we're not talking about Fox scheduling executives here. These are people who were very nice and complimentary to Kristen, and who (fingers crossed) might just remember to call her if the right project comes down the road sometime in the future. Let's save the animosity for those who treat our friends badly, like shrift's clients...
Kristen, just let me know who to badmouth internally. JK
Thanks for the loyal support, guys, but, you know, what Matt said. The folks at ABC/Disney have been wonderful and encouraging and I bear no ill will towards anyone. This just wasn't meant to be my way in. I'll find another.
Just wait until I wheedle my way over to the studio. I have a plan.
Somebody appears to have hacked TheInside.org. Joy.
Somebody appears to have hacked TheInside.org. Joy.
Grrr. Assholes.
Kristen, based on Matt's good example, I intend to continue to think that being a Disney finalist is itself a huge big deal and to send out -ma directed at eventual fruitful results of your good-conversation good-contacts interview. However, if a couple of years from now the actual winner's show or film makes it out into the world and turns out to be dull or insipid or a blight on the landscape, I may not be able to stop myself from hating the Disney folks just a little.
But, yeah. One way or another, there'll be a Kristenverse.
That's fair. Kristen, I think you've done good work, I'm glad you got as far as you did, and I wish you wonderful things at the new year.
In unrelated news: I had a Joss/Tim nightmare last night. I was invited to some sort of party to celebrate a new show, but I got there and nobody knew me. I kept trying to leave, but I'd forgotten my shoes, my needlework (Joss handed out cross-stitch kits; who knew), and then my bicycle. Everybody wondered why I kept coming back to the party.
My subconscious can just SHUT UP NOW.