Fred Armisen and me
To think we almost didn't make it in to the show is nearly too much to bear. As 6 of my friends anxiously waited to be ushered into Amy Poehler and friends' musical version of Sixteen Candles, I was at the front of the line being told that because of a "major server crash," our reservations were never confirmed and suddenly we were at the back of the Standby line. All seemed doomed.
But the overwhelming psychic powers of Molly Ringwald were on our side. She looked down upon us from France, or wherever she lives now, and parted the waters to let us through. And thank god/Molly because we would have missed the one of the best live ridiculous comedy shows since... Well, actually, I usually hate live comedy. But this was obviously specially different.
One of the best things about it was seeing Fred Armisen (is a Taxi) playing drums in the live band. Total scene stealer. Don't let the fact that he's on SNL turn you off. Or, rather, don't let that fool you. FA's comic sense is #1.
The performance was being filmed by VH-1 and we were warned ahead of time by some comedian who wasn't funny enough to be cast in the actual show. "Do NOT look directly into the cameras," he said. "And try not to shout inappropriate things even though they might be really funny, like 'WHOOO! PUSSY!' and stuff like that."
I leaned in to the tall, dark and handsome friend to my immediate left and said, "Remember when I looked DIRECTLY into the camera, pointed to myself, and mouthed the words BAZIMA DOT COM?"
On the way out that very same friend spotted a discarded piece of paper in the row behind our seats. He must have sensed something because he picked it up, looked at it, folded it up again and handed it to me saying, "You're gonna wanna hold on to that. It's part of the script." The page was blank except for, on the top left hand side in a courier type font, a line reading:
SONG: TURNING JAPANESE. Page 55.
Thank you, god/Molly.
We stood outside across the street from the back door discussing where we would go for post-show drinks. (We ended up at Nowhere Bar where, after kicking ass at pool, Lisa became starstruck at the sight of Stephen Merritt of The Magnetic Fields. He was sitting at the bar with a beer and a small notebook -- writing lyrics to a new masterpiece, we guessed.)
Suddenly, I spotted a vision of lovely funniness. Fred Armisen was outside surveying the crowd. He was looking for someone. I decided it was ME!
I gasped and he turned and looked at us for a minute. Then I ran across the street and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hi!" I said.
"Hi!" He said.
"Um, can I hug you?" I asked.
"Sure! Of course!"
And then me and Fred Armisen? WE HUGGED.
"What's your name?" He asked me.
"I'm Blaise!"
"I'm Fred!" he said.
"I KNOW!" I said.
"We're doing a SHOW here!" he said.
"I KNOW!" I said. "I SAW it! It was so much fun! You were great!"
"Oh, thank you! Thank you!"
"Can I ask you a favor? Um, my friend found this... Would you sign it for me?"
I pulled out my cherished piece of script, handed Fred Armisen a pen, and turned around so he could write on my back.
There was so much scribbling going on back there! Was it a novel? A love letter? A proposal?
When he was done, I thanked him and he thanked me and put his hand on my shoulder. He was wearing a Duckie Dale outfit.
I ran back over to my friends and we immediately huddled over my new, even more prized, prized posession. In big letters, all over the page, he'd written:
Dear Blaise.
Hi. Remember me?
I'm Fred. Fred Armisen.
Okay, bye.
