Oftentimes when I’m in the writers’ room at The Office, and it’s 11:00 p.m., the script we’re rewriting is halted because we’re all waiting for our boss to approve an outfit for the character Pam that shoots the following day, and my mind wanders. First I wonder if I will ever get the opportunity to live in a tree house like the one in the Swiss Family Robinson house at Disneyland, where we’d have a giant seashell for a sink. After I realize that, no, that will never happen, I think about the exact amount of fame I want.