Hiatus Ate Us

We wrapped up production on "Ho's!" two weeks ago, so you can imagine it's great to have free time again, after four months of solid work, and years of unemployment before that. You get used to a certain amount of laidback time.

You might wonder what I've been doing. Not wasting it, I'll tell you that. Right after I beat the Metallichick video game I went out looking on a way to capitalize on my sitcom success. During the heyday of "Who's Your Daddy?" I used to get all kinds of perks, and when I say "perks," I'm not even referring to the free breast implants they gave me. It was a ripoff anyway, they give you the implants but then make you pay for the surgery. I was going to get some friends to put them in for me, but I didn't quite trust them. I trusted them like "pick up my mail when I'm gone," but not "invasive surgery" trust them. Actually, I wouldn't let them pick up my mail either.

Let me just say it was a washout. Nobody would give me anything. I couldn't get an obscene gesture from Dick Cheney, things are that bad. People don't even recognize me from the show. They took a picture of me key-scraping a car for the "On the Town" page in People, and they didn't identify me as "'Ho's!' Clarissa Coleman" To them I'll always been "'Who's Your Daddy?'s Clarissa Coleman." They wouldn't give me a free cup of coffee, and I even had a coupon, courtesy the WB. If you can't get a free T-shirt from a vinyl record store, you know your comeback didn't work. I would be worried the show won't be renewed for a second season, but I'm still too pissed at not being able to wrangle free shit.

Don't tell anyone who works at the show, but I've been looking at other offers from other TV shows. Maybe not offers—it's not like anyone's actually offered me another job. More like pitching ideas, and calling up people and begging to get on shows. It's nothing against the WB—okay, it is. It really is. You can't get a hell of a lot of respect on a WB show, as all that time trying to scam freebies proved to me. I want to be on a show all the critics respect and the audiences like. I called "The Sopranos," and offered to play anybody—even one of those dancers Tommy Soprano sleeps with and whacks, that kind of small role. It will be an interesting bit of trivia, like Wesley Snipes' performance in Wildcats. Or Woody Harrelson in Wesley Snipes' movies. But they wouldn't go for it.

Then I called "Six Feet Under," one of those other HBO shows with all the hype, and said I could play anything. They didn't like the idea I would play a body who'd come back to life at the funeral. I offered to play a regular body and they just kept asking who I was again, not a good sign. Just a bad experience all around. I suppose I could call all the other HBO shows, then start on Showtime shows or whatever. I get the feeling that would end in the same results, and before I'd know it I'd be asking to guest-star on UPN shows or something. That's all basically how I came to be on a WB show anyway.

That's when it dawned on me—I have no job at all right now. Why not be a writer? That's what all the other unemployed people do, and some of them become famous. I've at least got a famous name—people are always giving me free stuff. Famous people have a much easier time at getting their book published. Look at all those books Jimmy Carter's put out, and he hasn't done anything in years. But I'm not a book person. I just don't get why anyone would want to read when you can see something in a movie. But movies have writers, too. Some of them, if they're not Bruckheimer pictures. So that's what I'm going to do with my time. A screenplay! The biggest Clarissa Coleman comeback film you've never seen. It's going pretty good so far. The title page is sweet. As soon as I come up with an idea, and get a typewriter or a computer, I think the rest of it will flow naturally.

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