Me & Maria

If we’re social media friends, then you may know that I scored a sit-down interview with Maria Bamford two years ago. And the reason you may know this is that I’ve been shamelessly dropping the following photo of Maria and me into conversations about Lady Dynamite on Facebook.

I’m not doing it to be a prick. It’s more that I’m so very stoked that an increasing number of people are hip to the fact that Maria Bamford is funny-awesome. Also? I really like the interview she gave me because it sums up a lot of the reasons I think she’s great. She’s funny. She’s exceedingly nice. We talk Adventure Time, flavors of Kettle Chips and the gentrification of east-of-Hollywood Los Angeles, among other things. This is why I got into journalism.

Keeping in mind my pride about this interview, you can imagine how excited I got when I was chopping zucchini while watching the fifth episode of Lady Dynamite and saw it flash to Maria’s character’s OK Cupid profile.

See, this jumped out at me because that profile photo came from my piece.

Someone else’s piece? No. Not at all. My fucking piece. My motherfucking fucking piece.

Robyn von Swank, who has photographed many an L.A. comedian, took that photo of Maria Bamford at Camilo’s in Eagle Rock, specifically for the article. The piece, by the way, was meant to be the kickoff to a whole series of sit-downs with comedians about late-night eats, but it was nixed by my station’s higher-ups for reasons that I was never too clear about. (Whatever.) Even if the column didn’t grow into a series, I’m happy it has apparently lived on as a teeny-tiny bit of one of the more wonderfully weird TV thingums I’ve seen in recent memory. Seriously—with Jessica Jones and Kimmy Schmidt and this, Netflix is offering me the offbeat heroines that no traditional network has been lately.

A sensible writer would end the story there, but there’s this one extra bit that I feel a need to mention—but with the preface/trigger warning that it’s cat-related.

Before Thurman became part of my life, the closest thing I had to a pet was Mayo, an obnoxiously loud white cat who lived in a house on the way to my gym. He’d visited my home before, but he mysteriously vanished shortly before Thurman moved in, and I’ve been quietly hoping that he found his own happiness and that’s what I can credit with causing his quietness. Last night, I finished the fourth episode of Lady Dynamite, which has Maria and Brandon Routh appearing in a photo montage that I’m 99-percent sure was shot in my neighborhood. The montage guest-stars a white cat that I think is Mayo and certainly hope is Mayo, now all flossy and Netflix-ready, though I admit that hope is based more of the fact that I want a happy ending for this animal than it is any real kind of certainty that Mayo crossed over into Hollywood stardom.

I suppose I could reach out, but I question how much could actually be gained from something along the lines of “Hi, Maria! This is Drew. From the restaurant? I like your computer show. I was wondering: Is the cat in episode four a boy? Was he offensively loud? Has he found happiness?” Surely there are better reasons to bother a famous person. I shall let this remain a mystery, and I will hope in my heart-of-hearts that I could have crossed spiritual paths with Lady Dynamite more than once.

In closing, here is a screengrab of the “Oh, that’s a bummer” scientist puppy shortly before his assassination by Adam Pally.

A Little Bit o’ Bamford

I got to sit down with Maria Bamford, one of my favorite comedians, for no other reason than to talk food. Really, I just got to give her jumping-off points and let her do her thing. You can read the piece here.

photo by robyn von swank

As with most interviews, the final product left a bit out. For example, I omitted the part where she asked me about my hometown, mostly because I knew that the majority of humans who would read this piece would not want to know about the reporter’s hometown. (It was nice that she asked, however. Most moderately famous interview subjects wouldn’t bother.) Still, if you ever wanted to know how Maria Bamford would react to a description of Hollister, California, here you go.

Maria: When I was a baby, I went to the old KCET studios, my mom told me, because they’d pledged, and so they got a free bean bag chair with a kangaroo print on it — 1970.

Drew: Wait, you were a baby in Southern California?

Maria: I was a baby in Southern California. My dad was in the navy, so they drove down from Ventura, down from Port Hueneme. It’s not that interesting of a story, now that I’ve started it.

Drew: No, it is interesting. I think most of your fans know you as being from Minnesota.

Maria: Yeah, I did. Where did you grow up?

Drew: Hollister — inland from Monterey, basically.

Maria: Oh, what was that like?

Drew: Agricultural.

Maria: Was it blissful? Could you feel the sea air?

Drew: No, it gets really hot.

Maria: Okay, I can see that. I’m picturing it now. It sounds wonderful, but it was hot. Was it, like, Grapes of Wrath territory?

Drew: It was very John Steinbecky. He actually lived in that area and wrote about it a lot, so we got to read stories about awful things happening in places we knew.

For the sake of brevity, I also had to leave out Maria’s description of her dogs, even though the act of omitting information about dogs runs against everything that I have come to hold dear. Here is that:

Drew: But you do go to the Wizard of Art in Los Feliz, right? How is that?

Maria: It’s great! The wizard, whose name is Paul, is on Hillhurst in Los Feliz. The wizard and his wife, Donna, they’re so enthusiastic. And you just feel so proud. There is theory taught. You learn to see shapes and colors and tones and tints, but you’re also allowed to draw whatever the hell you want. Like, I always draw my dog over and over again. “Do you want to draw a landscape?” “No, I do not.” “Do you want to draw a live nude?” “No, I do not. Is it my dog live and nude? YES.”

Drew: You have two dogs?

Maria: I do. I have a Pug-huahua. I named her Blueberry because she’s sweet and quiet just like blueberries are! Do you know how quiet they are?! And then Burt, who’s a blind pug, is twelve. Now he just gets in the wagon. Me and boyfriend just wheel him around in the wagon. My neighbors were like “We saw this couple, and we thought someone had moved in who had a kid and then we were like ‘Oh, it’s Bert.” Bert’s initial name was like… Chandler, or something. It was like “What? Do you live in Valencia or something?” Bert used to be a cop. He’s a retired cop. And Blueberry was a nurse, and that’s what she’s so codependent. She’s always cleaning things.

So that’s my gift to you — a little cutting room floor something. I’ll point you again to the full article, but I’ll also draw your attention to a tidbit toward the end that you’ll probably enjoy if you read my blog: Maria Bamford based the voice of the Adventure Time character Hot Dog Princess (and also that of her stand-up character, “Did you steal my key lime pie Yoplait?”) on a girl she went to high school with. And I thought that was kind of awesome. Hear her explain it and even do the Hot Dog Princess voice:

This pleases me. Hot Dog Princess in general pleases me.