Suck It, Wonder Woman!
Page 14
Artie is a great, sweet, funny, lovable guy. But he has been known to often “take over” interviews. Not in a malicious way. Just in the way that he’s a comedian and when he sees an in to make a joke, he takes it…and can do that over and over. I’ve seen him do it with other people. And I was warned he might do that on Fallon that night, but I wasn’t worried at all. I wasn’t worried about anyone. My anxiety was the only thing that could do me in. Unfortunately, my anxiety was proving to be like a 285-pound cage-match champion.
But then something beautiful happened. I’m not quite sure at what point in the interview this happened exactly, but my nerves just fell away. I just sat back and had fun being in the moment with Jimmy and Artie. All anxiety vanished.
I knew with my first joke that the audience got my sense of humor. Jimmy had asked if I liked technology, or if it was just something I talk about on my show. I responded with, “Yeah, I like technology. I mean, I have a computer.” And when the audience laughed, I think that’s probably when my nerves released their hold on me.
Later in the show, Artie made a joke about being on ecstasy and “banging that tuba,” pointing in the direction of The Roots, Jimmy’s house band. The whole audience cracked up. And while they were laughing I looked over at the tuba with this massive hole in it and thought to myself, “Well, Artie did say his girlfriend was twenty-five…maybe he’s got something going on.” But instead of internalizing that comment, I turned to Artie and said, “Artie, if you can get friction with that tuba, you deserve a twenty-five-year-old girlfriend.” The audience erupted in laughter. And Artie was practically speechless—well, as close to speechless as he ever gets—screaming, “Nice! Nice!” over and over, and Jimmy was out of his seat jokingly telling everyone to calm it down.
“Artie, if you can get friction with that tuba, you deserve a 25-year-old girlfriend.”
After the show Artie came up to Jimmy and me and said, “She had the best line of the night. That friction line was hilarious.”
I was so happy. As entertainers and comedians I respect both Jimmy and Artie so much (not to mention the king of New York comedy himself, Lorne Michaels, who I had passed in the greenroom right before the show.) And to know that I had made them laugh and I’d surprised them, was a high I had a hard time coming down from. It was beyond what I dreamed it could be.
During the commercial breaks producers and executives had been running down to the set saying this was the best show they’d ever had. And Jimmy came to my room later and said, “There are shows that you dream and wish to have, but you never think you can get them. This was that show.”
It was, in a word, amazing.
I hate to write out every moment of the show because that would be too grandiose. But I can say it was up there as one of the best moments of my life. I’m gonna say Top-3 best moments of my life.
The show ended with Jimmy and me playing Ping-Pong and I brought out my “secret partner”—Susan Sarandon. Yes. Susan Fucking Sarandon. I swear this is true: just days before Jimmy’s show we had dinner for the first time and became fast friends. Jimmy had asked her to play Ping-Pong on his show in the past, but she declined because of a hurt wrist. But Susan co-owns a Ping-Pong club called SPiN in New York City and we had been practicing there together. The Ping-Pong game was between Susan and me and Artie and Jimmy. And it was not staged at all—other than the fact that Susan forced Jimmy to use a ridiculously small paddle. It probably goes without saying on this fairy-tale evening, but Susan and I brought the win home! What. Up.
I have to say I’m very happy we won that game. Because if you watch the match, I gave up the second point when I hit the ball off the table. When I did that, Susan said to me under her breath, “Come on! You can’t hit like that.” The fear of disappointing my new best friend, Susan Fucking Sarandon, was enough to get me focused and help us house Jimmy and Artie. We went back to SPiN that night and had a celebratory dinner and more Ping-Pong. I mean, really, what a goddamn perfect night!
I usually keep my head down and even when something good happens for me, I look up briefly, and throw my head back down. I guess I feel like if I keep it up too long, I’ll get hit by a bus or something and it’ll all go away. But this time, for this show, I let myself be excited and, dare I say, proud about how I handled it.
It’s rare moments like this, when I allow myself to be excited about how life is turning out…and I think back to the little Olivia who just wanted to make people laugh so much—the one with the ridiculous Disney outfits, the one who had to bribe her “friends” to let her be the dog who stayed outside while playing house, the one who once tried desperately to fit into any clique that would have her. It’s moments like this where I wish I could tell her: It’s all gonna turn out fine.
I would never have been able to get this book done without the following people and I would like to thank them all very much for everything they did to make it possible: My mom, my sister Sara—basically my whole family, Michael Homler, everyone at St. Martin’s, Chris Scheina, Jon Favreau, Stan Lee, Masi Oka, Mac Montandon, and Simon Green. And I also want to thank all my girlfriends with a few phrases that will make sense to no one except them. Really, one of the greatest accomplishments a woman can make is having amazing girlfriends. Here’s to you guys:
WWPND?
I don’t really want to talk right now.
Toast
Namaste
Jam
Sidestep
Classic Newman
Well, has he ever saved Middle Earth?
Boys got the bullets but girls got the guns…but you don’t need no stinkin’ bullets if you know how to pistol whip a motherfucker.
Author’s Note: The names and identifying characteristics of some people have been changed.
SUCK IT, WONDER WOMAN! Copyright © 2010 by Olivia Munn with Mac Montadon. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
ISBN: 978-0-312-59105-2