That was the plan. One little trip. But, well…
But, well, a lot of things.
For starters, Kathleen actually wanted to spend time with me now. I guess she needed a break from Bitsie ’n’ Bytesie— especially the money problems—so we started to go out to dinner quite a bit. Sometimes we’d talk about Mum as a kid or the season’s hot paint colors or how old I’d have to be to get blond highlights, but mostly we just talked about ideas for a new series.
Kathleen was desperate to come up with a home decorating show. At first I thought that was just because she wasn’t happy doing kids’ TV. Which of course she wasn’t. But then she explained how the television business works. She figured if she was lucky, Bitsie ’n’ Bytesie would be renewed for one more year and they’d make twenty-six new episodes. That would mean she’d have enough shows “in the can” to sell the series to other countries and, hopefully, make enough money to pay for all the budget overruns.
I figured, so what’s the hurry? She had a whole year to come up with a new show idea.
Wrong.
That’s not how it goes. Kathleen said it takes at least a year to get a new series up and running.
More likely two.
Often three.
Or even five.
That’s because first you have to come up with an idea, and then you have to find a television channel that likes it.
You have to get sample scripts written so they can see if it’s really what they want. And you have to find a whole bunch of people to lend you money to get the show made. Then in the end, after you’ve done all that work, the people at the TV channel can just say, “Ah…no thanks. We changed our mind.” And you have to start all over again.
If Kathleen didn’t come up with a good idea soon, she could have a couple of years when she wasn’t earning anything.
Zero.
Zip.
Nothing.
Having gone shopping with her, I knew how much she needed to make a lot of money. Kathleen was way past the stage where a secondhand Queenburger and a pink sweater would satisfy her.
That’s why she was even willing to pay someone else for a series idea. She was actually ready to “buy” an idea and then produce it herself. Writers were coming to her all the time with proposals for shows, but nothing was really right.
She almost bought a series idea about basement apartments called “The Lowest of the Low.” She looked at one called “Colors of Contentment” that sounded a lot like mind control to me. The guy said he could make people happier just by painting their rooms the right color and drugging them.43
And I had to literally beg her not to pay this lady $500044 for a show called—wait for it—“Doorknobs.” Kathleen actually thought a thirteen-part series on the history of doorknobs would be interesting.
Like I said, she was getting desperate.
Of course, every time I went out for dinner with Kathleen, Bitsie would get all jealous again. He’d pout. He wouldn’t talk to me.
Or worse, he wouldn’t stop talking to me. About what a babe I thought I was in my new “aren’t-I-fabulous” capris.
About how I must be too good for him now that I dined with Ka-th-leen all the time. About what a phony I was.
I tried not to let it bother me. I knew he was only saying that stuff because his feelings were hurt. I knew we were still friends.
So I took him to the mall a couple of times to make up for going out with Kathleen. Then, of course, I had to take him to the mall again when he caught me smiling because Nick said my shoes were cool. And again when Zola asked me if I’d like to spend a weekend at her cabin sometime.
Once I was carrying Ram’s double up to the set and I tripped. Everyone had to wait a second while I rubbed my shin. Mel must have felt sorry for me because he didn’t go ape about all the time I was wasting.
To me, that almost proved Mel was human. To Bitsie, it proved Mel was my new boyfriend.
So I took him to the mall again.
I’d like to say those were the only times we went shopping, but they weren’t. We started going practically every night that Kathleen had a meeting. The unhappier Bitsie was, the meaner it seemed not to just take him. I mean, I always made an effort to go out with Kathleen because I knew she was unhappy. Why wouldn’t I do the same thing for Bitsie? He hated his work too.
Can you blame him? You must have a pretty good idea what Bitsie’s like by now. Take a look at this script. Does it sound like Bitsie to you?
43 I’m just joking about the drugging part. He was serious about the painting though. If that were true, I could have just painted Bess’s room Cotton Candy pink, and life would sure have been a lot easier.
44 Yes. Five thousand dollars.