T-minus three weeks 'til the plays James and I wrote open. Holy S! If you don't know/remember/care, James and I wrote four different plays and we're running them in rep starting in March in a series called Midtown March Medley. The delicious news is: I got an email last Tuesday from the New York Times (!) asking if we'd be free to be interviewed for an article. If it were possible to have crawled through the computer to scream "YES," then I would have, but that kind of physical maneuvering is difficult at my current weight. Anyhoo, the reporter came the next day to my SiriusXM show, "Seth Speaks," and then I went to dinner with him and James. (On the New York Times' dime. Yes, I got an appetizer. Quite frankly, two.) Then on Saturday, we met with a Times photographer for a photo shoot! He decided to shoot us in Central Park because it's so pretty and he asked us to do a comedy pose. Since I have to play the violin in my play (The Daring Duo), I hauled out my fiddle and "serenaded" James, whose face expressed a response to the sounds emanating from the four strings — horror. Here's where the story gets "funny," if "funny" means "devastating." The photographer looked at me and said, "You know, Seth…I was researching a lot of old photos of you that are online and I have to say…" I was sure he was going to tell me "You look exactly the same! You never seem to age!" I put a humble smile on my face and prepared myself to look appreciative. Well, instead of the compliment I knew I would get — nay, deserved to get — I got: "I noticed that from certain angles, your nose looks enormous." Is it possible for words to feel like a truck hitting you? I kept the smile plastered on my face while trying to get his license plate number. He then told me he was going to photograph us from the angles that really work for me.
My question is, why couldn't he just say, "Hey, Seth, tilt your head a little." Why spell out the specific reason for the angle? In conclusion, there will be a New York Times feature on our plays. And my face will be slanted at a perfect 35 degrees, otherwise known as a "Post-nose-job angle."
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