And We Danced Anyway

Hey guys! Remember me? The girl who ran off to LA on a romantic girlfriend getaway with Jemima for four days without even having the nerve to tell you? That’d be this girl; heartless personified. And I’m heading out to some super-awesome, semi-undisclosed (for now)(unless you follow me on one of my bazillion other social networks, in which I’ve probably splashed it all over the pages) location for two-plus weeks on Sunday night. But that’s no problem, because before I go, there’s nothing left to do whatsoever…oh, besides moving all of SVV’s and my belongings down to our new house in San Mateo, finish a big feature I’m writing for the Chronicle, complete all my daily blogs for my regular paid gigs in advance, a handful of other menial tasks, and oh, um, write and edit an ENTIRE GUIDEBOOK (*gulp*)(the last one I worked on took me eight months…I now have four days). So, you know, nothing new in these parts! But let’s not talk about all that, because I’m sure you’re just all as busy (if not more so, when you factor in dogs, kids, mortgages and such). What shall we talk about instead? Hmmm, how about that time I went on THE ELLEN SHOW YESTERDAY. Yes, that sounds fun, doesn’t it?

(Um, that’s totally not a picture on the Ellen set, bee tee dub; rather, that’s me at Central Perk, because Ellen’s show has about as much security as the White House, and the Friends set is the second coolest thing I saw while there.)

So, right. Ellen. I probably haven’t professed on here before how if I did switch teams, romantically speaking, it would be to give my heart to Ellen. I’ve loved her since her early sitcom days, and back in NYC, when my life was ironically not nearly as hectic  as now (funny how that works), I devoured her talk show every single day after getting home from work. When J and I decided to take off south for a few days—work for me, pleasure for her, the pleasure of hanging out with me, rrrrright; on second thought, that does sound like work—I was amazed to check on Ellen’s site and see that there were tickets open for the exact day we’d be there. I clicked “GIVE ME THE MOTHER EFFING TICKETS NOW, HO” (or whatever the site said), and the next day, a production person called me saying that yes! We had two tickets in my name! See, being polite never gets you anywhere.

Enter one of my favorite new people, Abby, whom I finally met over the holidays when she was up in San Fran (though we’d been blog pals for well over a year—she was my first!). Abby works for Warner Brothers and without me even begging her (not even a little), she set up a whole fun-filled day at the studio for J and me. This meant an awesome VIP tour of the lot, in which we saw Merlotte’s (True Blood), Stars Hollow (Gilmores), the sound stages for several sitcoms and dramas like The Mentalist and much, much more. However, it comes as no surprise that my favorite part was the museum…half of which was dedicated to Harry Potter! I even got sorted by the Sorting Hat. In case there was ever any doubt, I was totally Gryffindor. J, on the other hand, was questionable: After much debate, the hat dubbed her Hufflepuff (if she had gotten Slytherin, I would have left her there in Burbank, I swear). J was super sneaky and snapped a picture of Aragog on her iPhone to send Moose, but then the mean ole security guard came and made her delete it. So we have no visual evidence of our Potter follies.

Oh wait! Now, that’s a lie, because I just remembered they took a picture of me shoving J under the Hogwarts Express.

Then, we had lunch at the WB cafeteria with Abby, and I kept my eyes peeled for the Clooney (who has been around filming the final season of ER, but likely was off somewhere far-flung like Darfur doing some noble task the one time I came to town). Heck, I would have even settled for Noah Wylie, but alas, no star sightings. That was OK, though, because next stop was ELLEN!

I had never been to a daytime talk show before, only news programs, Conan twice and Letterman, so I was doubly pumped to go to Ellen. But like any other show, it was a lot of hurry up and wait. Hurry up and get there by the 1:30 check-in, wait another two hours, while you fill out surveys and are “slyly” screened by the production crew. J and I were selected in a big group of people they took outside and talked to briefly, but we never knew for what exactly, as we were sent right back inside after they got our names and numbers. To wait some more. And the rules were a little insane—in fact, they sent me this whole manual on what I couldn’t wear to the show (flip-flops, matching clothing, anything with WB, jeans unless they were dressy, etc.). Clearly they don’t know me; I don’t do jeans. They even called me two days before the show to make sure I was aware of said dress code. (In the end, there were some true hoochie mama get-ups, and no one said a word to the bearers.)

When we finally did reach the interior, we were on the very, very back row.  Naturally, the world’s biggest head was situated directly in front of me, as often seems to happen when I go places like the theater. Someone had told us if we had guaranteed tickets, which we did, there was no reason to arrive early. NOT TRUE. They line you up based on when you get there. It was touch and go there for a minute, but in the end we were four people to the end of the last ones seated. Whew.

If you watch Ellen, you know what her favorite pastime is…dancing. Now, they don’t come much whiter than myself. I actually contemplated taking a dance class before subjecting myself to the possibility of being on national television. I should have done just that to build up my endurance alone. Because, man, we danced. And then we danced some more. And then there were dance-offs and move contests. And some other provocative stuff that I’m quite shocked appeared on the set of a G-rated show. Not gonna lie, there also might have been some shopping cart and sprinkler, too (Stuff White People Like, after all). But we danced for a full hour before the show even started. Maybe this is their master plan to wear out the audience in advance so they behave.

Then, Ellen came on. And it was pretty quick and straight through from there. That show runs like no well-oiled machine I’ve ever before experienced; it’s above and beyond. Every time there was a commercial break, wanna know what we did? Danced. I was so danced out halfway through the show that I might have taken a tiny catnap when Taylor Hicks was performing (yawn, I know). Carol Burnett, however, was there, too, and just delightful. But then! We had a surprise. Because we got to stay for the filming of part of a second show, too. And you want to know who was the guest du jour...the Silver Fox himself, Anderson Cooper. When I went on a networking trip to NYC while still in college, he was the first “celebrity” I ever met (well, following being on Good Morning America, where I rubbed elbows with Rachael Ray,and Michael from Lost, but they hardly count). And I really wondered if anyone could react quick enough were I to sprint down to the stage and thrust myself upon him (just one little peck, that’s all I’m asking for, Andy…may I call you Andy?).

So now that I’ve accomplished this great life milestone of seeing the Ellen Show live, I don’t even know how I could possibly set the bar higher. Unless, perhaps, I somehow win the ticket lottery to Dr. Phil next time I’m in town; then I’ll know I have arrived.