Tasteful Nudes: ...and Other Misguided Attempts at Personal Growth and Validation (32 page)

I am also forever indebted to my lovely and talented manager, Kara Welker, who somehow managed to see what so many others failed to when I was doing summer stock in Reno all those years ago. Not only are you the world’s best manager, but you are also the world’s best-dressed manager, which is what really keeps me going on those days when show business seems cruelest. Sorry I blew that
Two and a Half Men
audition, but, like you and that nutjob Redstone always say, I probably shouldn’t have snuck onto the lot in the first place. We’ll get ’em next time.

I’d probably be dead by now were it not for my lovely and talented lawyer, Amy Nickin, perhaps the only person I know willing to not only spring me from jail in the middle of the night, but also bring me an outfit that will allow me to leave that jail with dignity every time. As Abraham Lincoln once said, I have always found that mercy bears richer fruits than strict justice. I have no idea what that means, but I thought it would be pretty cool to say that here.

I am also totally indebted to my lovely and talented secretary, Shaina Feinberg, who heads up the Brooklyn office of Dave Hill International. Thank you for your unflagging dedication to helping me make this book even betterer. You are the greatest. Please help yourself to any leftover bagels in the pantry whenever you want. You’ve earned it. Also, we are out of toner.

And, of course, I cannot forget to thank my agent, Kirby Kim. Sorry to not mention you sooner in this section, but I know that you—like me—are a true gentleman and recognize that I’m running a ladies-first operation here despite my gruff, “bros before hos” exterior. Anyway, thank you for all your hard work and also for getting everyone else at William Morris Endeavor to wear suits to the office on days you knew I’d be stopping by. It really meant a lot. Ditto on the deli tray. Also, I have no idea what you said to St. Martin’s Press to get them to cough up so much cash but I’m glad you did. Hardly a day goes by when someone doesn’t compliment me on one of the many track suits I bought with the advance.

Lest anyone think it’s all business all the time with me, I would also like thank the many friends, family members, and other assorted loved ones who offered their endless (within reason) love, support, and—in some cases—even their bodies throughout the writing of this very important work of literature. Some read early drafts and told me to finish the book anyway, some actually appear in these chapters by name (or by a name I made up so they don’t sue me or get sued by somebody else or anything), and some just put up with me whenever I’d announce really loudly how I was writing a book in the middle of a crowded restaurant, bus station restroom, or anywhere else I like a little extra attention. They include (in intentionally random order so as not to cause infighting) my siblings Miriam Hill (without you, I probably would never have written this book; take the credit or the blame; your choice), Libby Manthei, Bob Hill, Katy Wallace, Kathy Kato (thank you for not only picking up the phone but for staying on the phone through all the mumbling and the tears), Ira Glass and the staff of the popular public radio program
This American Life
(thank you for being the only radio show without the word “zoo” in its name to have me on with any regularity), Janyce Murphy (I consider you to be just like a real sister only less annoying), Fred Wistow (what started as fear has grown to include both love and admiration for you, but still mostly fear), Anaheed Alani and all my fellow teenage girls at Rookie (you “get me” and I appreciate that), my brothers-in-law Nick Simon, Jeff Manthei, and Rob Wallace (never anger a man who’s got nothing to lose; if any of you ever do anything to hurt any of my sisters I will kill you all without even thinking about it), David Rakoff (compared to you, English will always be my second language), Will Tanous (you believed in me when I was just a guy from Cleveland with a bus pass and a dream; here’s to none of that ever changing), Deirdre Dolan (sorry, not everyone gets a special parenthetical; starting with you, I’m just going to list names for the most part—deal with it), Carl Arnheiter, Stephen Sherrill, Tim Parnin, John Hodgman, Tony Kellers, Malcolm Gladwell, Nancy Southwell, Anne Fenton, Dale May, Mike Albo, the Laurent-Marke family, Todd Barry, Dick Cavett, Meredith Scardino, Kieran Blake, Dan Dratch, Beowulf Sheehan, Giancarlo DiTrapano, Chris March, Janeane Garofalo, Meredith Blake, Britt Bolnick, Paisley Gregg, Bridey Elliott, Stephanie Scott, Phil Costello, John Kimbrough, Doug Gillard, Pat Casa, Lucy Wainwright Roche, John Borland, Matt Stein, Gary Nadeau, Bob Bartos (I am working on getting a version of this book with your name mentioned first so calm down. I will be intimidated by you no longer), Walter Schreifels, Storme DeLarverie, Fran Illgen, Katherine Dore, Scott Guber, Leanne Shapton, John Herguth, Mel Robbins, the rest of my rock brothers (Rob Pfeiffer, Eddie Eyeball, Arthur Smilios, Moby, Tomato, Nash Kato, and even Drew Cardilicchio), Maura Maloney, Hal Sparks, Alex Gregor, the fine folks at Generate, Kyle Mizono, Patrick Ryan, Jody Jones, Miles Kahn, Leigh Arthur, Tig Notaro, Ryohei at Rimeout, Fuji at ThisTime, Koyo Fukamizu, Tim Fornara, Lisa Thomas Management, Thao Nguyen, Laura Krafft, Clark Caldwell, Lou Hagood, UCB Theatre, Jeff Sheehan (you facilitated my drinking throughout the writing of this book, which made me feel more like a real writer; thanks), Jeff Tomsic, Mike Gregg, Pete Walker, Mark Hall, Megan Madigan Roche, and, last but not least, Joe Randazzo, a sweet dude.

I realize I probably forgot some people, either intentionally (e.g. Harry Deansway) or in the way that sometimes happens when you have a gas leak in your apartment like I do. Don’t worry, I’ll get it right when the paperback comes out.

Before I go, I wanted to thank my nieces and nephews Anna, Eamon, Blake, William, Luke, and Lilah even though—let’s face it—none of you did a single thing to help me write this book. In fact, half of you can’t even read yet and the ones that can shouldn’t be reading this book in the first place because it will haunt your dreams. But someday I may need you to testify on my behalf in court or—at the very least—see to it that my body is disposed of properly, so I just wanted to get it in writing now that I love you all very much.
2

Finally, I would like to thank my parents, Bob and Bunny Hill. Dad, I realize you might have thrown this book in the trash several chapters ago, but if you made it this far please know that I love you and was just trying to do my best. Mom, nothing scares me more than the thought of you reading this book. Even so, I’d like to think you would have secretly enjoyed it despite the fact that you never would have let me borrow the car again. I love you and miss you every day.

Love,

Dave

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

D
AVE
H
ILL
is a comedian, writer, musician, and man-about-town originally from Cleveland but now living in New York City in an apartment all by himself because he is a grown man. He has written for
The New York Times, Salon, The Huffington Post,
New York
Daily News, Guitar World,
and a bunch of other people, too. He is a regular contributor to public radio’s
This American Life
and starred in his own TV series,
The King of Miami,
which was canceled, even though Dave really liked it. He has also appeared on Comedy Central, BBC America, MTV, and
Adult Swim,
and is a regular host on HBO and Cinemax. Dave stages his own chat variety show,
The Dave Hill Explosion,
at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatres in New York and Los Angeles, and also in London, wherever it is tolerated. Dave plays in several rock bands and is so good at the guitar that most people can’t even handle it. Dave also smells really nice—ask anyone.

TASTEFUL NUDES.
Copyright © 2012 by Dave Hill. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

These are true stories, though some names have been changed.

www.stmartins.com

All photographs courtesy of the author

Cover design by Rob Grom

Cover illustrations by Dave Hill

ISBN 978-1-250-0023-7 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-250-01403-0 (e-book)

e-ISBN 9781250014030

First Edition: May 2012