Fridays are for Fey! Well, in my neurotic world, every day is for Fey, but I suppose I could make Fridays especially for Fey.
In perusing the news today, I was inspired by yet another technique by which I could enhance my chances of working on Tina Fey’s staff. I came upon this article, which detailed some fertility statues in a Ripley’s Believe It or Not museum in South Carolina. According to Ripley’s, more than 2,000 women have reported pregnancy after touching the 5-foot tall wooden baby-poppin’ statues.
So this got me thinking. I wonder if anyone has been able to create a Tina Fey Statue — a statue that, upon contact, will exponentially increase an individual’s chance at meeting Tina Fey and securing a writing position on her staff. Alas, upon further reflection, however, I realized that the Ripley’s statue may have an effect on individuals that is wholly independent from any particular individual actually making contact with the statue. The Ripley’s statue, in essence, acts in the same way as 10 shots of tequila on a college campus. Although it inherently does not possess any powers of fertility, the effect on persons touching the statue remain powerful — just like ingesting 10 shots of tequila, believers who touch the statue will immediately go home and get it on til the break of dawn, leading to conception and the birth of a child who will end up returning such love with such kind words as, “I hate you!”
So alas, I suppose if I ever came into contact with a Tina Fey Statue, any effect from such contact may only be placebo-like in nature . . . But hey, if the placebo effect leads to me pursuing my attempts at meeting Tina Fey at a renewed vigor and pace (aka getting it on til the break of dawn), perhaps that is itself valuable. Shit. I’m going to go make my own Tina Fey statue then. I will repeatedly touch this statue, hoping that it will energize me into finally tracking down Tina Fey and getting her to read my script. In fact, maybe I’ll make a miniature Tina Fey statue, small enough to fit in my pocket, so that I can be constant contact with the statue. Although I wonder if Tina Fey would be grossed out at chillin’ in my pocket with some lint, a gum wrapper, lip balm, and traces of the chocolate I ate to alleviate the pain I endure every day from being trapped in my own nightmare on Elm Street.
Discover me, Tina Fey!