Jackie has a best friend who's an upwardly mobile slut. Julie has an upwardly mobile stripper next door. Jackie has a day job at a second rate indie film rag. Julie had a day job at a second rate Hollywood trade rag. Jackie has a really stupid film school nemesis who becomes a smug overpaid screenwriter. Julie has a really stupid brother-in-law who became a smug overpaid sitcom weenie. Jackie even looks a little like me, if I were eight feet tall and thin and only had one chin and all. Either way, I am starting to feel like Steeley Dan with the whole Cousin Dupree debacle.
Saturday Night Live, where they never let her do much other than be brief and sarcastic while vaguely resembling Geena Davis. I liked her on Will & Grace, where she was a writer who also appeared as real life boyfriend Jack Black's nurse when he guested as a doctor. I sided with her in sisterhood when Jack dumped her after seven years to elope with some hot rocker chick he knew in high school. What do you guess the new Mrs. Black wouldn't even talk to him back then, when he was just another fat guy sniffing after her. Poor, loyal Laura was further humiliated with the requisite instant Hollywood love child who was undoubtedly named for a popular fruit.
Still, I can't forgive the identity thieving. Or the whole getting there first and doing it better thing, if that is indeed the case, which would somehow feel even worse. Laura Kightlinger may not have gotten the guy, but she did get the sitcom with an eight-episode order. Laura, if you happen to visit this blog with any frequency, and I suspect you do, please be advised that I'd be more than happy to give up my imaginary boyfriend for a staff job, or even a sweet little consulting gig. The rest of it will be our little secret. Really it will.