Thursday, March 10, 2016

So Now I Apparently Work For Modern Family

Well, as I have shared before, I am continually perplexed by just which celebrity the deli counter workers at Ralph's in Westwood think I am.   I am still getting very gracious and over accommodating service there.

But now there's another quizzical situation on the homefront.   Some of the neighbors in my apartment building think I'm a famous TV producer.

Okay, so I am moving residences from the first floor domicile to a cozier (and much less expensive) spot on the second floor.   As a result, I am paring down some items pre-big move.   One of the things that needed to go was a 1999 model Mitsubishi 35-inch television monstrosity.   It's so clunky and in the way that it should be renamed Donald Trump.  Rim shot.

Well, anyway, the Hispanic caretaker here has been very solicitous of me since I fractured my kneecap.   He's always asking if I need help.   Then he heard I was moving and offered to assist.  So, my last conversation with him wandered around to the topic of the cumbersome television.

"Oh, if you're just going to dump it, my son would probably want it to hook up to his X-Box."

As long as they were going to come and get it, the price would be free.   And, two hours later, the caretaker and his twenty-year-old son Steven arrived like a pair of electronic coroners.   But, Steven had other things on his mind when he met me at the door.

"So, you're the guy that works on Modern Family?"


My befuddled reaction was nothing compared to Dad's who obviously had not been pre-screened and almost dropped the TV mid-lift.


Um, no.

But I was curious to how this story had emerged, so I pressed on with Steven.

"All the people in the building say you do.  The actors are here all the time."

Okay, in the past month, I have had some actors in my apartment and they all have wonderful careers in their own right.   But a fast click-through of IMDB told me that none of them have Modern Family listed as a credit.

I prodded for more details.

"I even saw one of them twice here.   I figured he was here to see you."

Okay, I'll bite.

"The guy with the red hair and the stubble."

Jesse Ferguson?   Um, still no.

Unlike what I do in Ralph's and never pop the fantasies of those cold cut slicers, I was pretty adamant with Steven.   As much as I would like to say that I'm Christopher Lloyd or Steven Levitan, I am neither.  I mean, if I was a major show runner, I wouldn't be moving apartments.  Or living here for that matter.

"Okay, so I wonder who that guy comes to visit here."

And, now, so do I.   So do I.

Dinner last night:  Grilled steak salad.

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