In Which Pooh-Bear and Piglet discover that they are more important than Andy Dick.

So. Will and I (er, I mean "Pooh and Piglet") were on the list for last night's star-studded premiere of Starsky and Hutch. Thing is, we both kinda wanted to see the movie, and I wanted to go to a premiere most desperately, but we went to Along Came Polly, which satisfied that itch. And Will's been having a lousy week. Totally overworked and just exhausted. So I told him yesterday morning that if he decided he didn't want to go, that was fine. It would save me the trouble of taking a shower. Besides, all of Hollywood is shut down the week before the Oscars, to prevent the planting of bombs or something, so the premiere was out near UCLA. Traffic between us and UCLA during rush hour on a weeknight is a nightmare. So once I convinced him that I wouldn't care, Will said he'd rather stay home. Then he dropped the bomb: If we dropped out, Andy Dick would get his ticket.

Will has worked for Mr. Stiller for about four years now. (If anyone who reads this was unaware of that, it's probably because it was a secret for a while, and once it became OK for the general public to know it, I couldn't remember who I'd told in confidence. Or possibly I just don't know you.) Andy Dick worked with Ben on The Ben Stiller Show, if not earlier. That's more than 12 years. Yet Will was ahead of him on the list. By me-logic, that means that I am more important than Andy Dick. Which really, I could have told you ages ago, but I could never have proved it until now.