
Dearest Autumn:
I have a terrible confession to make. I can’t remember your name.
Please don’t be offended. It’s not you. It’s me. I am, as we say in the movie business, a moron.
Some days I call you Amber. Sometimes it’s Arrah. Sometimes it’s, “Crap, what the hell is her name??”
This is so wrong.
When I wrote my ad on Craigslist, I heard from some pretty freaky people. Some were amazing artists. Others were, well… kinda scary. Frankly, I was a little worried for my life.
Then came you. Oh what a magical day! You actually called me. And emailed regularly. And kept me up to date on your thoughts and ideas for the look of the cast. It was a miracle.
I wasn’t sure that you’d really want to come up from San Antonio just to work for free and be abused by a bunch of cranky newspaper reporters. But then you showed up that first day with these massive suitcases full of makeup and AN ASSISTANT.
My first thought was, “Damn, she is way too cool for me.”
My second thought was, “Hey, she works at Kraft, right? I wonder if I can get some discount mac and cheese…”
You made everyone look beautiful. I mean, seriously. By the time you were done, they could have been models.
(It made me feel really ugly. You’re a MEAN PERSON, ALLISON… or amber…whatever)
Your presence added a lot to our credibility. Thank you for being fabulous.
Andrea