M: You said, “Get on my back!” and so I hopped on. This is one of the many times I have hopped on his back when we were in dire straits.
N: We were running down an empty street—because it’s all blocked off—and this overzealous lady cop is giving me a bunch of shit, because she wanted me to get over to the other side of the street. It was so ridiculous because there was literally no one on the street. But I complied enough so we got past her, saying, “Her category is starting!” We got there and they yanked her in a side door, left me to my own devices—they wouldn’t let me in because we didn’t have our credentials. I had to run around to the lobby. They were shutting the doors, and I’m saying, “My wife’s category is up now!” I ran into Melissa Gilbert, who played Half-Pint on Little House on the Prairie, and she was the SAG president at the time. She grabbed an usher and said, “Let him in. His wife’s category is just starting.” And I got in and stood in the back.
M: And I didn’t win! I would have had such a good speech.
N: Oh my god . . .
M: Dude, you got dragged to so many crazy things. But turns out it was foreshadowing.
N: It’s nuts. I have had the benefit of many years of Megan’s tutelage, because she’s jumped all these hurdles before me, and I got to watch her deal with the challenges of playing a popular character, having people want to stop you in public, and having to deal with doing press and all that kind of stuff that’s harder work, that’s not as lovable as actual acting work. That’s a nice part of our dynamic—that I can handle all those things a little more casually than if I just came in green, because I’ve learned from my wife how to do things with grace and elegance. Whether I adhere to that or not is always a question.
M: It’s funny, because Nick was with me from the first really big thing, the first time I was nominated for an Emmy, which was also one of the years I won. He was with me for that, and for a lot of other things that all happened pre–Parks & Rec. And that includes a lot of what he just said—all the stuff that goes along with being in the public eye. And a lot of the time I was going through that process, he’d say things like, “Come on, you’re overreacting, right?”
So, we used to live in the Hollywood Hills, and we lived in this neighborhood that was just overflowing with celebrities. I don’t know what the story was. But Tobey Maguire lived next door, Keanu Reeves lived three houses down, Courteney Cox and David Arquette lived across the street, and Leonardo DiCaprio lived at the end of our ridge. So from our house we could see his house. It was a crazily obnoxious neighborhood, just a lot of drunk rich people driving too fast. And those Starline tour buses would be going by our house every hour on the hour. Sometimes we’d back out of the garage, and the tour bus would be parked right outside our driveway. And I would hide—I would put my arm up in front of my face. And Nick would say, “What are you doing? That just makes it worse. You’re just attracting more attention to yourself.” Cut to several years later, when Nick’s privacy was being invaded, and he didn’t think it was too funny either.
So it was kind of fun for me to watch him go through all of the same things. All of these different hurdles, or markers. And some of them are very gradual. You don’t realize that it’s happening until you’re in the thick of it, and you don’t understand why you’re becoming kind of grumpy for periods of time. And I would say to Nick, “I told you it was kind of weird and embarrassing sometimes.”
N: You can’t really know what it feels like until it happens to you. It’s a phenomenon.
M: One of the things early on, when Nick was a working actor but not well-known, is we would go to some big thing, like an award show or something, and there were certain people who would come up to me and they would also include Nick in the conversation. And then, there were certain people who would come up to me and only talk to me, and never even so much as glance at Nick. And then, when it had been a while since Will & Grace had been on and Nick was in the thick of Parks & Rec, the reverse would happen. People would come up and only talk to Nick, and totally ignore me. So yeah, it’s funny how we’ve traded back and forth, and it just depends on what’s going on. We could be out somewhere tomorrow, and there could be a bunch of people who love Parks & Rec and love Nick, and couldn’t care less about me. But then if there’s a Will & Grace thing happening, people might be just slightly less gaga over Nick in that moment. So it’s interesting to watch it swing back and forth. . . .
N: Let’s keep it clean. . . .
M: Ba-dum-bum. We’ll be here all week.
N: Try the lasagna.
M: And the fact that Will & Grace came back, that’s just trippy in and of itself. It feels like we just went away for the weekend, at the same time that it feels like a miracle has occurred. Those two things existing simultaneously.
N: I’d like to say in light of all this, but something else that Megan learned first and I sort of learned on her arm before learning it more firsthand, is that all of the pomp and circumstance of award shows, anything you have to put on a tuxedo and get in a limo for—the public has this idea it’s like going to prom or something. That it’s like it’s a celebration for us. And you pretty quickly learn that it’s not, that it’s a show and it’s promoting showbiz. It’s promoting the shows, and the companies that are being represented. And it’s a job. Going to those things is a long day of getting all dolled up, and for the ladies who look so beautiful, like Megan for example, every single one is like a wedding, in terms of hair and makeup and all the meticulous preparation—because one of the horrible parts of this part of the job is if you make some mistake with your appearance, you’re excoriated on the red carpet.
M: I hate it, how high-stakes the fashion aspect of it has become. A long time ago, Janeane Garofalo wore cutoffs and a T-shirt to an award show, and that’s always been my gold standard. I wish everyone could relax and be able to just wear whatever you want, and feel good and be comfortable. And, not to put too fine a point on it, but anybody who criticizes someone for what they’re wearing or how they look is a piece of shit. Happy-face emoji.
N: Although it must be said that we’ve often said to each other, over our many years together, that we do feel lucky that because of the kind of work we pursue, and get to do, for some reason we don’t attract the attention of the paparazzi. We’re not in the file of performers that people want to get a shot of in our swimsuits, or looking like shit in the grocery store. And that feels very fortunate.
M: Yeah, thank god. The paparazzi doesn’t give a flying fig about either of us, and that’s great. Unless we just happen to be standing right behind Mark Wahlberg at the airport.
N: Or if we’re in the Meatpacking District of New York—we were once walking our dogs, and doing some shopping, and there was a bunch of paparazzi activity. And that was the one time I almost lost it, with a guy who wouldn’t stop videotaping Megan.
M: Well, to be fair, I was naked at the time. Oh, also, you wanted to take your pants off one time when we were in New York. We were going to an SNL after-party, and Nick wanted to moon the paparazzi—this was way before anyone knew who Nick was—and I said, “I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
(Both laugh)
M: And he didn’t.
N: I appreciate you talking me off the ledge.
M: Because now those pictures would be fairly popular.
N: But when the picture of us shopping in the Meatpacking District finally did surface, it was exciting because it looked just like a picture of Gwyneth and Ben Affleck.
M: (Laughs) I’m sure it looked identical.
N: I had to do a double take.
M: Yeah, it happens a lot.
N: Benji? Oh no, that’s me.
M: Gwynnie and Binny. In case you think our references are less than current, they’re back together. You heard it here first.
Slightly different topic, but I think if you’re in the arts, the reason has to be because you’re drive
n to express yourself in that particular way. You can’t do it because you want to be famous. It’s not going to work out in the end. And it’s going to bring you the wrong kind of attention, and things aren’t going to go well.
N: In a way, it’s always a learning process, and it’s always a work in progress. So we’re still trying to figure out our career balance. Maybe because we come from theater, we’re more game. Just the fact that you did the play where we met, for free, with a bunch of strangers. And over the years, we’ll, say, go to Largo or UCB and do a show, just because people asked us and it sounds like fun. Or we’ll do some dumb comedy internet video for Funny or Die or College Humor.
M: Celebrities! They’re just like us.
(Both laugh)
N: But that is in fact something that we’re constantly having to wrestle with and learn from. Many people who work a lot in film or TV don’t do these extracurricular things, and that’s because when you say yes to things like that, suddenly your whole calendar is completely full.
M: Yes, and we made a pact this year that we were going to try and slow down a little bit, because the last few years have been completely effed in terms of the amount of work and the amount of travel involved. And Nick actually did do that. But then I hilariously added fifteen times more things than ever before to my calendar, so that I haven’t had any time off at all. But we have a two-week rule—we’ve never been apart for more than two weeks. At one point, I was shooting a TV show in London, and Nick was shooting season 2 of Fargo in Calgary, and he had to fly back and forth from London to Calgary every two weeks because I’m too lazy. (Quietly) Because I’m too lazy, because that’s what it boils down to.
N: But you also . . .
M: Have consumption.
N: I have a donkey-like stamina. You need a couple of days for jet lag.
M: Yes. I can’t function on the lag.
N: And I’m willing to roll in to London for eighteen hours (Laughs) to get my conjugal . . .
M: (Laughs)
N: Tallyho! I’m back to Calgary!
M: Being in the public eye, people say, “Wah, wah,” if you complain, but it’s a job! It’s like anything else. It just carries with it this other connotation, because people consider it to be this exalted, glamorous thing.
N: That’s the thing. A reasonable person could say, “I understand what is difficult about that. But fuck you, you’re getting paid like a motherfucker, so shut up.”
M: I don’t know if it’s the money that people begrudge. It might be that, but I think it’s other things, too. But in any event, the great part about reaching a certain level of success is that it opens doors and you get to work on cool projects with talented people—if you’re lucky. But the being-in-the-public-eye part of it is pretty dumb. It’s for the birds. There’s an old adage: The good thing about being a celebrity is that you can get a table in a restaurant. That is pretty much the best part about it. I mean, outside of the richer advantages we’ve mentioned, in terms of just the walking around in the world part—it’s nice if a restaurant is full and you say, “It’s for Nick Offerman,” and they suddenly say, “Yes, of course, Mrs. Offerman, we can fit you in at 7:30.” That part’s good.
And it’s nice to be in a position where you could potentially be an inspiration to someone. That’s the dream, the ideal. So when you encounter people in the street who are fans, it’s a great idea to stop and be really present with them, and give them a little of your time, if you have some to spare. Because you can be a positive influence to a certain degree. I remember when I was younger and my mother took me to see some Broadway shows, I got to meet a couple of the actors afterward. Not even leads, just the fourth banana in the background. And if someone took the time to exchange a few words, it just meant so much. I didn’t want anything from them; I just admired them so much. Just to know that they were awesome as people made a big impression on me. I’ve never forgotten that, so I try to be really nice. I even stand there with the professional autograph hounds. I’ll stand there with those guys for forty-five minutes, I don’t care. I don’t care if they’re selling the autograph. Because it might be cold, or it might be raining, or they might be standing out in the sun. I just feel like it’s a nice thing to do.
N: Weighing in on that last topic—I’m pretty hot and cold. The professionals really rub me the wrong way, because when I stop and think about it—they’re just parasites. I don’t respect that as a way to make money. There’s something creepy about it. Sometimes they’ll have somebody on the inside, like at an airline, and they’ll hit you when you land, sometimes at baggage claim. . . .
M: Yeah, I’m not on board with that. If anybody is standing outside a hotel I’m staying at, or an airport, or where we live . . . I’m just talking about if you’re going to be on Jimmy Kimmel, and they’re waiting there. They’re just waiting for whoever. They don’t care.
N: But that’s just it. That’s what they’ve chosen to do with their lives?
M: I’m not making a case—I’m not saying it’s an honorable profession that’s being overlooked. (Laughs) America’s forgotten heroes.
(Both laugh)
N: Those guys really don’t get the attention they deserve.
M: (Laughs) I’m just saying that when I see those guys, I’m going to do it, if only because they’ve schlepped all the way over there. I will say, there is a high level of dandruff involved. It’s not for the faint of heart.
N: I do it sometimes, but I don’t think twice about not doing it. And then when you don’t do it . . .
M: I’m in total agreement. If you don’t do it, they say mean things. . . .
N: Then they’re assholes. They’ll say, “Come on! I’m your biggest fan!”
M: It can get abusive. When I was doing Young Frankenstein on Broadway in 2008, I went out and signed after the show for a year, eight shows a week. It was a big theater—1,800 seats. They had this ridiculously claustrophobic barricade at the stage door. You’d come out, and there would be people to your immediate right, the barricade takes a hard left, and then there would be hundreds of people all the way down, minimum two hundred people every night. Most of the cast of that show went out a secret back exit after the show every single night, but I guiltily felt like I had to sign autographs. It was a musical, and I had about five songs in the show, and it was exhausting, and I just wanted to go home and find Nick and the dogs, and get in bed and watch television.
And yet I would stand out there every night. And it would take minimum forty-five minutes, but often well over an hour, and I would try to sign every autograph, and take every picture, and talk to people’s cousins on the phone, and do every single thing that everyone asked. And inevitably, almost every single night—because one of the perks of doing a Broadway show, if you’re a lead, is that you get a car and driver to pick you up and take you home before and after the show—as I got to the car, there would be one person that I had not satisfied somehow. I hadn’t signed their boob or whatever.
And they’d yell, “Fuck you, Megan! I came all the way from New Jersey!” And I’d think, “I just stood out here for an hour and half, and it’s raining!” Or snowing, sometimes. It was kind of frustrating. There were a few nights when I got in the car and burst into tears. This driver, Dorsey Parker, who became our good friend, became like my therapist. After a while he had to walk down the line with me to try to run interference. I don’t know. I want to do it, and I try to do it. Sometimes there are people who take advantage, or want it for the wrong reasons, but that’s showbiz. (Laughs)
A lot of the time now of course it’s about social media. People want a picture so they can post it to their social media instead of wanting to meet you because they admire you. And I think there is a big difference.
N: You’ve been doing this a lot longer than me, so you had a sort of code in place. . . .
M: Pre–social media.
N
: And it happened to me with the advent of Twitter and Facebook and Snapchat, and all that shit. That’s what rubs me the wrong way. Generally, when people approach me, three-quarters of them will open with, “Hey, can I get a picture?” And I say, “No!” If I’m not rushing to my airplane or something, I’ll say, “No, thank you, but what’s your name?” I try to be friendly and say, “If you’re my fan, I want to meet you, and say thank you for supporting me.” And I say to them, don’t open with, “Can I get a picture?” Because that makes me feel like a zoo animal or a cardboard cutout. If you’re interested in me, let’s meet. Then I’ll take a damn picture. But understand that we’re human beings, and respect that if I’m walking through the airport—which is where I get it the worst—it tries my patience, because I’m usually dealing with something like, “I have to call my brother.” Or, “Something’s going on at work.” I have to get to my gate so I can deal with a situation, and somebody stops you, and there’s a real sense of entitlement, where especially young people will express their displeasure when you deny them scoring their social media points.
M: Nick says, frequently, “I’ll have a conversation with you, but I’d rather not take a picture.” Sometimes that’s how he feels, and I think it’s cool that he’s able to be honest about it.
N: At book signings, I had to make a rule, almost immediately, when I wrote my first book, “No more phones.” Everyone was coming up and making it all about what they were going to put on their social media. And I thought, “I came here to Kansas City to shake your hand and sign your book. And all you care about is getting some funny picture. So if I see your phones, you have to leave. That’s my rule.”
M: It’s a tough one. I try to give as much of my time as I can, because I would appreciate that if the tables were turned, but it definitely depends on the time and the place, and the person, and how it’s handled. And the amount of alcohol involved. (Laughs) Sometimes the drunkies are a bit much. And also, it sounds like fake news, but literally NO ONE’S CAMERA EVER WORKS. I think people get nervous, and then it’s minimum three tries to get an actual photo in the can. I mean, personally, I would be embarrassed to ask someone for a selfie, I think it’s lame. Although I did just take one with Jeff Probst. (Both laugh)
The Greatest Love Story Ever Told Page 15