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January 19, 2012

Robert McManus, contributor

Robert McManus, contributor

A couple of weeks ago I drove down to Hollywood to pitch a sitcom idea to some big NBC execs. My idea for a television program was a single husband living with his wife who was also single who both have professional jobs.

The husband is a lawyer/barista and his wife is a Laundry Machine who can control time and also bend people’s souls into hell. Originally I titled my idea, “Seinfeld,” but my friend Griznit told me that was already an existing show. After hearing that, I changed the title to “Sleinfeld.”  I felt extremely confident in my idea, but like my Mom says, “Confidence means cocksuckin’ nuthin’ unless you got the balls to get your fucking shit out there and make some coin.”

Taking my mom’s advice, I packed my things into my white Ford Tempo and began my big Hollywood adventure.  Humboldt to Hollywood is a pretty quick drive; it only took 11 hours. (That is, it goes by pretty quickly when you watch 11 episodes of Intervention on your iPod touch! The trick is to nestle the iPod onto your lap facing upwards. You then alternate your attention every 30 seconds from concentrating on driving, to concentrating on your show.)

When I got to Hollywood, I immediately spotted Leonardo DiCaprio in a white wig and what I assume to be a fake white beard chugging a big Hollywood latte outside of a swanky battered women’s shelter. I asked him where I could find some Big Hollywood Big Wigs to pitch my sitcom idea to, but he told me to buzz off.  

Crushed and defeated, I started my drive back to Humboldt.  During the drive back, I thought it would be a nice idea to visit my dad, who lives in Bakersfield.  I have only met my Dad once, and it was when I was 13 at a father/son potato sack race we both randomly attended. We met each other in the crowd and figured out we were related due to the fact we both were wearing identical jerseys of our favorite Father/son potato sack teams, The McCutcheons.

When I pulled into my father’s driveway, I got excited because I knew he was home; his potato sack was parked in the driveway. Knocking on the door, I found myself urinating in my white anchor blue beyond baggy jeans because I was so excited! And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I found myself defecating because of the horror of seeing the urine! Long story short, I ran back to my car and speed off back to Humboldt in my stench wagon.  All in all, I think I gave it my best shot.