THELMA’S COOCH

Behold the beautifully bent fingers in those photos. Those are a reasonable facsimile of Thelma’s Cooch. Even better, she talks, too – and says the damndest things. Let me explain. Last summer I worked on an unjustly neglected NBC program called “Hit Me Baby One More Time.” Not high art, perhaps, but nevertheless the most fun I’ve ever had working in television. The origin of Thelma’s Cooch came when one of the show’s performers arrived on set with a fairly severe case of, um… how do I say this delicately? Okay, here goes: She came in with monster cameltoe. The cooch took on a life of its own and became something of a mascot among the “Hit Me Baby” producers.

What’s perhaps more remarkable is that even now, a year after the show wrapped, the Cooch survives. We’ve all gone our separate professional ways, but a pack (a “six pack,” if you will; don’t blame me for that, though. I didn’t make it up) of us still hook up on occasion for evenings of drunken revelry, always at Don Cuco’s in Burbank. Six was down to five last night, but in attendance were Daniel “King” Soiseth, Carla “Ivanna” Patterson, KojakColumbo (so named for the excellent Harry Nilsson tune) and Dwight Smith and Michael Agbabian, who, alas, have no nicknames. Sadly, fellow ‘Sixer Jason Lenzi had better things to do and couldn’t join us. But Thelma’s Cooch more than made up for his absence.

TV is such an odd beast from a job perspective. You become intensely close with people for 12 weeks or so, then it’s over with a loud crash. The blood, sweat and bonding often disappears once production stops. It’s a transient life and one I don’t know I’ll ever adjust to. I like working all the time. I don’t like to be six weeks into a project and have to start plotting what my next gig’s going to be.

But I digress. The point of all this is that in this unreal world a bond of real friendships have developed, albeit one that swims in gallons of booze and mediocre Mexican food. Yet perhaps that’s the best kind. Viva la Six Pack!