I had a paper to write. It required six sources. I was all ready to do it until I made the startling discovery that none of the sources can be from the internet. This sucks pretty bad, as I have no sources at all and the paper is due tomorrow. I guess I'll turn it in late.

I'm having a hard time distracting myself from homework lately. I've seen everything on Facebook and there's nothing on Google Earth that I haven't looked up. Not having myspace anymore has also cut down on things to do when I'm bored.

I'll just go to bed.

Mean Green Machine

I got two e-mails from my teacher. The first was a reminder to sign up for extra lab time outside of class to finish our projects. The second was an e mail specifically to a girl who had missed class 3 times from being sick. The e mail went into detail on how she can't get anything higher than a C on any assignment for the rest of the semester. She can't miss or be late again or she fails. She is on "probation." I just can't figure out why the teacher would send that e mail to the entire class. Doesn't that seem wrong? That's gotta go against student/teacher confidentiality or something. If it was my problem and the teacher sent an e-mail to the whole class, I'd be pissed. Wouldn't you? Call now to vote! Press 1 for yes, 2 for no.

We signed a lease. We got an apartment. It's in Lincoln Park on W. Lill right by the Fullerton stop. Super close to the L, bars, DePaul parties, and restaurants open past 8 pm. I'm really excited, it's gonna be fun. Matt and I signed for the place because Jeff was out of town, and I feel really bad about doing that to Jeff but the place is awesome and I know he'll like it. The rooms are all big and the same size, which was key.

I met with the guys from the agency at the portfolio center on Friday. It was both good and bad. It was good because I got some really helpful information about writing for television. It was bad because when he picked up my script he said "I just didn't get it." At first I was disappointed. I mean, since I was half expecting him to love Off The Clock and want to see it to Showtime and move me to Hollywood to start working immediately, "I just didn't get it" was not quite the best case scenario. Then I realized he didn't even read the script. He read the first few sentences of the treatement (synopsis of the show) and that's it. So I learned the greatest lesson of all from him. People in the industry are not my teachers. My teachers get paid to read my stuff. It is their responsibilty to go from start to finish. This guy didn't have to do that. And the first sentence wasn't good enough for him so he put it back into my olive green Five Star folder from Mead and went on to something else. Disappointing...but a good lesson.

So...this weekend. Well...Baggy seemed upset that he missed all of the events but I can assure everyone this weekend was no more special than last weekend and will most likely be no more special than next weekend. It was fun and all, don't get me wrong.

I was going to write a little recap of everything that happened this weekend but I realized that every story would start with "I didn't want to go but I did anyway and it was fun." I need to improve this attitude. Every time we go out I refuse. Then I go and its good times.

Highlights of the weekend include:

Actually getting SLC for once.

Libby declaring her bisexuality to 7-11 and Jimmy Ray.

Libby undeclaring her bisexuality the next morning.

The trip to the train after the party on Belmont.

The awesome weather.

Hearing about Ryan's incident in the hallway.

And this:

what was it again?

I had something good to talk about. Something that I thought was really super interesting. I can't remember what it was though. It wasn't about cats, or Taco Bell, or computers. It wasn't about Three's Company or deodorant or Van Halen. It wasn't about Coke or avacados or buttermilk. I just don't remember. Hmmmm...

The bet is almost over. Can we please continue to talk about who jerks off and when once the bet is over, guys? Please? I'd hate to see such an interesting conversation topic disappear. Truly. I barely even throw up in my mouth at all when it's brought up now.

Ever have those restless nights where you don't want to do anything? There's nothing on TV. You hate all of your movies. There is no music you want to listen to. You have no homework. Your room is clean. You don't want to hang out. You want to do something...but there's nothing you want to do. I had that tonight. But there was a show about a family of dwarfs on TLC that kept me semi-interested. Until I fell asleep.

I call it the Wednesday night lull. Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday I am on the go, busy working and going to class and doing homework. I'm barely at home for more than 5 minutes between 9 am and 9pm. Then I get to Wednesday, and although I've still got a bit of stuff to do on Thursday, I'm pretty much done. But I'm still in productive mode. I still feel I should be doing things. Making things. Getting stuff done.

I'm trying to be funny write now, I really am. I'd like to come up with puns and anecdotes for you, since I know that's why you come to this page. That's why you have it bookmarked, right? I'm not in a bad mood. I'm really not. I'm fairly content, I'd say. I just don't feel like being funny. Or writing funny. Hmmm...or writing at all, for that matter.

This is a True Story

The first time I ever came to Chicago was to audition for The Real World: Paris. I came with Mark and Sarah. We got up at about 5 in the morning, drove out here, and stood in line for about 8 hours while we waited to go into the interview. For some reason the people running this thought it was a good idea to give you the application as soon as you arrived. So you filled out an application, then had a good 8 hours to step on it, roll it up, fold it, drop it in a puddle, and tear it. Once it was finally my turn, I was brought into this lounge area for the group interview. The group interview lasted about 20 minutes, and consisted of me rolling my eyes while a bunch of attention starved idiots went on and on about themselves, trying desperately to be noticed. No, I don't want to see you dance, dude. I'm sorry your dad is in jail but you are still boring, go home.

It was a waste of time, but I guess a good story to tell. But anyway, that's neither here nor there. The point is, when we came out here, we saw David from The Real World: New Orleans. So I knew what he looked like in person, and I knew he lived in Chicago. Which leads me to my next story.

David works at the Ritz Carlton off of Pearson. I swear to you. I was walking to my cousin's today and I saw this guy and I thought to myself "That kind of looks like David from Real World," and then I remembered he was in Chicago, and then I looked at his name tag. David. Coincidence? Fuck no. It was him. It was him for sure. He's a manager or something high up like that I guess. I make this judgement based on the fact that he had a suit on. And he was on Real World.

This week is crazy busy. I've got to finish storyboarding and tape my P&E II project. I have to work on my A&S II sound project. I have reading for Critical Studies. I have a midterm next week to study for. I have a scene to memorize. Lots of stuff. Also, I'm taking my Off The Clock pilot, or at least the first two acts of it, to Show-Off on Friday for these guys from some LA agency to look at. I'm kind of scared, because it basically sucks. I guess there's really nothing to be afraid of. I'm doing it for the experience. I'll value their feedback. I'd like to hear what they have to say. But still. I think my dream job would be coming up with ideas for shows while someone else writes them. I'll help with funny lines and dialogue, but as for story progression and character development, well you can just do it yourself and fill me in on that later.

So my friends had that little formal this weekend. The one in the study lounge. The one I refused to go to because I thought it was dumb. Well....I went. I know, I know. Hypocrite. I suck. I'm a loser. And guess what? I had fun. I almost wish I was there longer. Ok, I was also pretty drunk, which is why I went in the first place, but I'm glad I went. I think. I even dressed up, See? Sometimes it's fun to get gussied up.

If your Uncle Jack was hanging off a cliff...

So the group has this no masturbation bet. For 6 weeks or something no one is allowed to masturbate and if you do you have to pay money. Ok, so here's my thing about that. It makes no sense. I mean, nobody mentions that they masturbated in normal situations, so why would anyone bring it up if they had to pay 5 dollars? I mean, say it's about truth and the honor system all you want, the fact is we are all human. The whole thing about masturbation is "everyone's doing it but nobody talks about it" which makes the entire bet irrelevant. Why? Because people don't talk about it. But for some reason now that you have to pay for it, a masturbation fee of some sorts, you think that people will admit? Now they are trying to switch it. No one is doing it and everyone is talking about it. It's like you're paying 5 dollars to tell people you just rubbed one out. That's just not right. If someone PAID me 5 dollars I'll give you all the dirty details, but for me to pay, thanks but no thanks.


It's early on, just wait for those basic instincts to kick in and one day someone will be alone in the room or in the shower or on the city bus and be like "Hey, I could do it right now and no one will know..." Because THAT is how masturbation works, regardless of any bet.


I've decided, and I KNOW Jess will agree with me, that the entire group is sexually repressed and is subconciously using this opportunity as an excuse to talk openly about their jerk off habits, which would otherwise be considered taboo.

Good Grief

Matt just assigned everyone Greek Gods. Very interesting, and I must say that I agree with most of what he said, and am quite happy with mine. However, he gave me an idea. And since I don't feel like studying anatomy right now (latissimus dorsi!) I am going to follow in Matt's footsteps. With....PEANUTS CHARACTERS!



Snoopy: Me.

A one-man show with superior intelligence and vivid imagination. Alter ego: Joe Cool.


Charlie Brown: Matt

He has a knack for putting himself down but is also pretty clever. His friends call him "wishy-washy," but his spirit will never give up in his quest to triumph.


Woodstock: Jill

Because of his size and the company he keeps, Woodstock is an accident waiting to happen.


Linus: Baggy

He is the intellectual of the gang, and flabbergasts his friends with his philosophical revelations and solutions to problems


Lucy: Jenny

She is loud and yells a lot. She's a know-it-all who dispenses advice.


Sally: Ashley

Sally, writing letters or doing homework, causes pain and joy to her fans in roughly equal proportions.


Schroeder: Dave

Reserved and usually unruffled, Schroeder reacts only when Woodstock tries to make his grand piano into a playground.


Peppermind Patty: Jess

What she lacks in common sense she makes up for in sincerity.


Marcie: Dani

The most naive. She's always willing to help out her friends with school work and she's not above sharing test answers.


Pigpen: Christian

Pigpen is happily messy. He doesn't try to explain it, hide it, fight it. For him, it's just a fact of life.

Dear Steve,

Always follow your heart. Never give up on your dreams.
Couldn't you just go to a regular school and get a business degree?
Learn to let things go.
You're funny. Do you think of all of this in your head? That's so clever.
Can you ever just be serious?
Why do you spend so much money?
How come you're so cheap?
Learn to let things go.
Embrace your individuality. Don't let anyone tell you anything different.
Why do you act so weird? Can't you be more like everyone else?
Get a job.
You have one? Get another job.
Don't let work get in the way of school, that's what is most important.
Learn to let things go.
Don't be afraid to open up to people. Show your true colors. There's nothing to be afraid of.
I don't like who you really are. Put your costume back on.
Are you afraid to let down your guard? Is this all a show?
What's the show and what's real? Can you even tell anymore?
Learn to let things go.
You don't tell people everything. You create puzzles for them to solve and then you get mad if they can't solve them and assume they just don't care to.
Puzzles aren't for everyone.
You need to get involved more. Network. Get to know people.
Sit down and relax for once.
Learn to let things go.
You aren't understanding. You don't give others a break because you don't give yourself a break. You don't trust others because you don't trust yourself.
You're young. Go out and mess up.
Don't let anyone down. They're expecting great things from you.
You've done great things already.
You've done nothing.
You wonder if you're the only one like this.
You are the only one like this.
You are not the only one like this.
Learn to let things go.

Such a Pro

I'm going to be published. FLYMF bought my Red Robin story and it will be in their March edition. So look out for it. They are also interested in posting the rest of the series. Except for Twist & Shout. They didn't seem to like Twist & Shout. Good thing I didn't use that one as my writing sample. Exciting, nonetheless. I'm published! I like to say that.

I skipped class and an audition today. I need to put my life back together. I'm not in any way being overdramatic either. My life had completely fallen apart. I had socks all over my floor that needed to be sorted and I had homework to do. See? Fallen apart. Shattered. I couldn't go on. I couldn't go to class. We were watching Desperate Housewives anyway, so its not like I missed out on some huge scholarly endeavor.

I'm still working on the homework. Hence, I am sitting here not doing it. My Aesthetics & Storytelling II class has become that class. You know the one. God damn it I don't want to get up in the morning to go to that class. It's Monday and I'm already dreading Thursday because I hate that class. Everyone has one. I really would have thought mine would have been Body Movement but I was wrong. Our teacher wants us to write all this really personal stuff. I have no problem getting personal. That's what I do right here. I'll write about whatever, no problem. But it's like no matter how personal I write, it's never deep enough. I could write about trying to kill myself because my family died in a plane crash and I have AIDS and she'd still say that I'm only "scratching the surface." Shit. She's going to read this I bet. I know she will. She'll find it. She's one of those teachers. And she won't ever say anything to me she'll just cast me knowing looks all the time so that the entire semester I have no idea whether or not she truly knows. And I'll see her in the hall and feel awkward and not know whether I should smile and say hi or just not or what because I know she knows I know she hates me. Oh I'm in trouble now.

'Till Death Do Us Part

Signing up for AOL is a lifelong committment. It's not like getting a tattoo, or getting married, or having kids. AOL is something that is with you until you draw your last dying breath.

A couple of months ago, after smoking some bad crack, I decided to sign up for AOL. It was fine or whatever. First month was free and I planned on cancelled after that. About 3 days into my free month I decided that AOL was indeed pointless so I removed it from my computer. At the end of the month, I called the toll free number to cancel my account. The operator was very nice and had excellent phone presence. She clearly must like what she does. That's good, because I hate what she does. For being so friendly and helpful sounding, I figured cancelling AOL would be just as easy as signing up for it. It wasn't.

This lady was, in fact, so helpful, and so friendly, that instead of cancelled my AOL, she gave me another free month. I don't think I told her that I didn't even have the software on my computer anymore. I was on the phone for about 45 minutes, so I didn't care to. Give me another free month, fine, I'll call back again and cancel. I've been on the phone long enough.

I call again. The man I talked to was named Tyaldhaslhajweaawie and asked me if I "aosdjasntarkjadsakjhdakdawotp" or something. I don't know what he said. But he did understand me when I said the word "cancel." Now, I guess I was a day late in calling to cancel, and had already been charged for the month. Aeremdasdamtad said that he would credit my account for the month so that I didn't have to pay. However, he did not cancel my account. He said I was credited but have to call again next month to cancel it. He asked why I was leaving AOL. I said because I have free internet and don't have a job to pay for AOL. He gave me all sorts of links to websites on how to find jobs. He asked me what I was going to school for. He asked me where I was born. He asked me how I felt about women's reproductive rights. OK, he didn't ask that one, but at that point I would have been ready for it. Thanks for your help Owndaslkdaspt.

But I still had to call back a month later. And I did. And once again I had apparently called after I had been charged. Well, the operator told me I had already been charged, which is strange because my credit card statement didn't show me being charged for a good 3 or 4 days after I talked to her, but what can I do? She started the whole spiel, and basically I told her I didn't want to hear anything she had to say. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want a free month. I didn't want anything. I wanted my account cancelled. So do it.

And she did.

What a nice lady. It's those quality experiences in customer service that really make your day.

Last Time Again

I change my template every 47 seconds, I know.

But I got html savvy! Ain't it nice?

And you can still leave comments, just click the number next to the title.

Not like anyone comments anyway.

Last night was fun. We went to Sam's party at Funk for some free drinks and good times. Mandatory coat check is bullshit though. The coat "room" looked like it's also where they wash the dishes.

Point of Clarification

The last thing I wrote. That wasn't supposed to be mean. People seem to have reacted to it the wrong way. I'm not saying I'm embarassed about my Columbia friends...OR my WMU friends. I just...am very uncomfortable with the idea of the two groups coming together. I've always had separate groups of friends, and I've always been very protective when it came to different people meeting each other. Do I think the Broncos will hate the art kids? Not at all. Do I think the art kids will hate the Broncos? Nope. Am I worried about my Columbia friends learning more about who I was, or my WMU friends learning more about who I've become? Well, slightly, I guess. There's things that I definitely haven't told people and maybe things are better with them not knowing.

I'm writing an essay for a scholarship I'm applying for. "What are your professional plans?" is the question. While many people will be writing "I want to help children," or "end world poverty," or something as socially relevant, mine is how I want to write for TV. So, will the people read it and embrace that my plans are different? Or will the National Italian American Foundation refuse to give money to support a television writer? Guess we'll wait and see?

When worlds collide

A bunch of people from Western are going to be in Chicago this weekend.

Do I want them to meet my Columbia friends?

Do I want my Columbia friends to meet them?

Ha. Are you kidding?


























no.

You know, I just don't get it

She's playing.

We'll miss you, Teddy

I really hate posting these obligatory "what I did over the weekend" posts. They always seem forced and kind of boring. Not my best work. Do you really care? Or is it narcissistic of me to believe that people want to read about what I did over the weekend? Oh, who am I kidding? You love it and you love me. Don't you? Please? Love me?

Well, let's start with Thursday night. Thursday started off with me not only wearing the legendary crabby pants, but also the crabby shoes, socks, belt, shirt, and underwear, which, incidentally, were certainly in a bundle. Then I decided that as much fun as sitting around doing nothing can be, I might as well try to enjoy myself. Which invariably led to going to get alcohol. The night was alright, I suppose. Wait...didn't I already talk about Thursday night? Shit. It was barely exciting enough to mention once, let alone bring it up again 4 days later.

Friday night was Steph's surprise party. Matt and I split a fifth of Skol, since that's pretty much what we always do, and Baggy had wine because he's french, and Jess drank everything because she's Jess, and Ashley probably had like a sip of Mike's Hard Lemonade. At midnight everyone who was 21 (besides me, I'm poor again) went to Bar Louie for drinks. I stayed and babysat the youngsters. I played them lots of music. Bad music that for some reason I was drunk enough to not only enjoy, but know all the words to. Cheers to Jenny on knowing all the words to "Dust On The Bottle," by the way.

Yesterday I got up and went out to lunch with Ashley and her mom and sister. I had to make sure that Ashley's mom was always on my right side and never my left. If you don't know why...oh who am I kidding everybody knows why at this point. Then I came back and went to the gym where I met up with Matt and Baggy. Then, since working out is good for your body, we quickly counteracted all of the lifting, rowing, and swimming by going to SLC. Speaking of SLC, I think my roommate has a problem. I think he's addicted. He's gone to SLC at least four times this weekend. I need to say something, I really do. Some sort of intervention. I can't watch him go down this road. It's like crack, that place is.

Last night we went to our friend Chris's in Oak Park for a party. Green Line is kind of a new experience for us. It was a fun party and everything, but the real adventure began afterwards. So, we were all under the impression that the Green Line ran until 2. Well, excellent. It certainly does run until 2. However, it runs west until 2. It runs east until....1:03. So we missed the train. Excellent. How the hell to we get back downtown from Oak Park without pawning our valuables to afford a cab ride home?

We take a cab to the nearest Blue Line is what we do. Excellent. Jenna calls for a cab, it will be there in five minutes. Five minutes later, the cab showed up. We run outside to the street and wave to him. He drives by. Fucker. So we go back in and call again. Now it's almost 2 and pretty soon the train station is closing and we will be forced to wait outside. Now, it's -6 degrees out, so none of us are really looking forward to that scenario. Call the cab company again, they say they'll send another. So a second cab comes and picks us up. Lucky for me, I got to sit in the front. I guess right away they guy was pissed that he had to move the newspapers, magazines, cups, empty food bags, shoe box, and god knows what else, so I could sit down. Then, we tell him we are picking up 2 more people. He is not happy. I wouldn't be happy either. But whatever, you're a cab driver. You lost and sense of ever feeling happy long ago, as soon as you had that extremely terrible picture taken of you that is now posted with all your information on the back of the driver's seat.

And he's a creep. And an asshole. And complaining that he could get a 2,000 dollar fine for putting six people in the cab. And also complaining that we should just have him drive us all the way back downtown. I need some clarification, sir. Do you want us out of the car as soon as possible so you don't get pulled over, or do you want to drive us all the way downtown so you can get more money? You can't have both. I'm too drunk to even listen to you complain anyway.

We get to the Blue Line.

Have you ever seen the movie "Alive?"

It's the amazing, true story of a Uruguayan rugby team's plane that crashed in the middle of the Andes mountains, and their immense will to survive and pull through alive, forced to do anything and everything they could to stay alive on meager rations and through the freezing cold. The only thing the team has riding on after losing so many of their good friends and family members is the slim chance of making it through alive and their faithfulness to God.

Waiting for the Blue Line last night? It was worse than that. It was terrible. My face was frozen, my fingers were numb, and it felt like my toes had frozen, broken off, and were just rolling around in my shoes. We waited a long time. A long time. I received my AARP card while waiting for the train. And it finally came. In the wrong direction. So we waited longer and longer. And just when we thought that all hope was lost, a divine angel ascended upon us (well, the CTA lady walked down the ramp) and told us the train was on its way. Ohhhh mercy.

So we got back in one piece. Alive. What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger.

We did have to eat Teddy though.

What, you don't know who Teddy is?

Well then I guess you won't miss him.

Classy-fied

Well it seems everyone was on top of their game last night.

Steph and Libby made out like 3 times.

Jess and I gave eachother hickies in the recliner while she played Kelly Clarkson repeatedly and sang along.

Everyone else locked themselves in Ashleys bedroom to chat, like we're in 8th grade.

Ummm welcome to college, people.

Then there's the "formal" that I'm not even going to say anything about. I could go on and on, but that's not cool because my good friends are putting it on and I will be respectful. I hope everyone who goes has fun, but I must politely decline my invitation. Thanks, but no thanks.

We finished our PSA today. It's...embarassing. Ok maybe it's not that bad. Maybe I am just overly critical because it's my own project. Or maybe it sucks balls and I'm just saying I'm overly critical to make myself feel better.

I need to stop spending all of my money. I'm running out again. But here's the thing. Last semester, I was a poor, poor, bastard. I couldn't afford anything except 15 dollars for groceries every other week. Now that I can do things like eat chipotle and drink something besides Skol and join a gym, well, I think I deserve to be able to.

Things Chicago could stand to have less of...

Pigeons.

Homeless people.

Rich people.

Insane cab drivers.

Starbucks.

Subway.

Tourists.

Taxes.

Save The Children employees

I could go on. But I won't. Because I have something bigger to complain about.

Valentine's Day.

Now, I'm not complaining V-Day in the same way that most people (or at least desperate single women who pretend they aren't desperate) compain about it. I don't care that there is a Hallmark holiday of love. Sweetest Day is garbage, I'll give you that, but Valentine's Day...well...it's just not that big of a deal. My point is...shut up about it. So you don't have a significant other. Who cares? Do you know how many girls I know that felt the need to go out last night, or at least drink, just because it was Valentine's Day and that didn't have a boyfriend? Pretty much every single girl I know. But here's the thing...they act like Valentine's Day is forced upon them. Like they are backed into a corner by all of these couples and this day of love and relationships is shoved down their throat. It's really not. If V-Day is such an issue for you...if you hate it so much. Then just ignore it. Going out to "anti-celebrate" it is only going to subconsciously make you feel worse than if you just treated it like it really is-just another day. There's no Valentine's Day parade. There aren't a million parties for it. You don't put up a Valentine Tree. The fact is, there's one aisle devoted to candy hearts and roses at the drugstore, and if you successfully avoid that aisle, then you've successfully avoided Valentine's Day. So you're single. Nobody else cares that you're single on Valentine's Day, why should you?

Chapter 5: Let's Twist Again

You know how sometimes you see a movie and it changes your life? You learn from it. You grow. You re evaluate your things. Well, for me, Twist & Shout at Twelve Oaks was kind of like that movie.

You know how there is always an inevitable direct-to-video sequel to said movie? Not nearly the life altering experience as the first. Second rate but still entertaining? Twist & Shout at Laurel Park was like that movie.

I had put in my time at Best Buy. Nine months, to be exact. Compared to how long I was at Red Robin and Old Navy, nine months was a long time. A baby is made in nine months. I could have gotten a girl pregnant on my first day and been a daddy by my last. After 266 days, I traded in the glamour of being a Media & Merchandise Specialist to return to Twist & Shout.

Things were pretty different this time around. I mean, a Twist & Shout is a Twist & Shout, but nothing could compare to the first experience. I, however, was not the only returning T&S player. Jason was the one who had informed me of the reopening. He was now a supervisor. And on my first day there Maggie (manager that replaced Kristine as the original store. Tried to buy drugs from Matt Rossanna) came to help out. And most importantly, it was the inevitable return of Andy. Slow Andy...

You know, Andy was great. He really was. One of my favorite people ever. And he didn't get nearly enough recognition in the first chapter. So I give you...

A moment with Slow Andy:

Brynne and I went up to visit Andy at Central once. We drank and had a jolly good time. We played a lot of games, including everyone's favorite...King's Cup. Now, before we started King's Cup we needed to go get alcohol. On our way to the store we saw these girls who were walking to Andy's apartment building. They were wearing jogging pants and tank tops. Clearly they had just worked out.
"We're drinking tonight if you ladies wanna join us," Andy said to these girls that he didn't know. They looked at us and smiled politely and walked on.
"Or, you could like, go run five miles. That's cool to," he added. He wasn't trying to be mean. He's the nicest guy you'll ever meet. But those are the things he says. Later on we were playing King's Cup. Once you get the last king card, you have to drink what's in the cup. Andy asked how many kings there were. Then we were on to categories. It was "Types of furniture." I said couch. Brynne said table. Andy said......

....


....light.

So that's Andy. Gotta love him! On with the show.

The most important difference between Twelve Oaks and Laurel Park, aside from Laurel Park being 15 minutes farther away, was that we now had frozen yogurt. That was the deal maker. Wow. I didn't know something fat free could be that good. Now, I'm convinced that it wasn't really fat free, and the fact that vanilla looked like a carton of frozen orange juice before it was put in the machine might deter some, but not me. We had like 20 different flavors you could put in it, including cough syrup and gasoline. The best thing to do though was to mix twist (oh yeah we had twist!) with oreos. I want some now. Words can't explain.

We had some new characters at Laurel Park too. There was Kim, who didn't like to do actual work but was still cool She quit. And ummm...Matt. Matt was kind of in charge of the place once the manager Jeff quit. I worked with Matt again later on at Pacific Sunwear. I've really acquired a strange network of work relationships. Come to think of it I don't remember any other people that worked there.

We were next to a Little Caesars, which made for daily pizza/pretzel trades. We were sick of always eating pretzels and they were sick of always eating pizza. It worked nicely. Business was just as slow as it was before, and for some reason pretzels were more expensive this time. We basically spent most of our time sitting around reading the Metro Times and checking out the cute waitresses at the Coney Island across the way.

Twist & Shout was the perfect summer job. Sit around and be lazy. Out no later that 9:15 at night. There were chairs for people to come and sit and hang out with us. I probably drank about 7 gallons of frozen coke in the time that I was there.

I started at Twist & Shout in June. By the end of the summer, hours had begun to dwindle. Now I was lucky to be getting more than one shift a week. The difference between my paychecks there and at Best Buy was a lot more significant. I decided that when I got back from vacation I'd try and find a second job again.

I got back to California and checked the schedule. Just one shift. Four hours. After getting back from L.A. that last thing I wanted to see was that my weekly income was going to be less than 30 dollars. Crap.

A couple hours before that shift started, I got a call. It was while I was in school so I missed it, but they left a message. It was Rebecca from corporate. I was too afraid to call her back because I figured I was in trouble. I decided I'd just go in to work like schedule and ask what Rebecca wanted. Well, it turned out it would have been a much better use of my time if I had actually called Rebecca to ask. I got to Twist & Shout. The gate was down. The lights were off. It was clearly closed. So I called Rebecca, already knowing what she was gonna say.

Twist & Shout went out of business.

Again.

Deja fucking vu.

I Was Famous Once...And Young

I wrote this for an assignment in Aesthetics & Storytelling II, but kind of liked it so decided I'd put it up here. The assignment was "What were your magical powers?"

I never had magical powers when I was younger. I mean, sure, I could turn invisible and sneak around in an oh so espionage way, but can't every kid? No. I had no powers...

...but I was a movie star.

Yes, it's true. At age 5 I was a hero starring in all sorts of Action/Adventure films. You've probably heard of some of them, such as "The Creature From the Refrigerator Box" and "Race To Get Out of the Garage Before it Closes." That was my hay day. I even did my own stunts. Why, sometimes I filmed 3 or 4 movies in one day. But hey, when you're doing what you love, it really doesn't feel like work.

In the summer we did a lot of location shooting in my pool. It was fun swimming with sharks and making those great escape scenes in the water. Craft services those days was excellent. A fine assortment of Ritz Crackers with cream cheese. Happy Meals on special occasions. I also did a lot of filming at the playgrounds outside of Ice Arenas. This was very convenient for my driver, since my brother just happened to have hockey practice at the same time.

Oh, those were the glory days. Still not sure where my residual checks are...

Ready Set Go

I normally don't succumb to peer pressure. Well, I guess except for drinking, drugs, social enagements, movie times, and breakfast, I don't succumb to peer pressure.

But I have gotten so many complaints that I haven't been writing in here lately that I finally just decided to do it to shut people up. So here you go. Are you entertained or does it suck? Probably the latter but I don't care. I have so much writing about my life to do for actual classes that not only do I not have time to blog, but when I do have time, I'm so tired of being self-reflective that this is the last thing I want to do. The kids still got bite, he's just got a sore jaw.

So I guess I'll take this opportunity to write things that just haven't had a place in any of my class journals. And also while I do this I'm not going to stop typing. It's a free-write sort of thing. No stopping to think what to say just blah blah blah blah blah.

Chuck Norris jokes used to be kind of funny. Used to be. That's about it. Haha "Walker Texas Ranger" haha washed up not-that-bad-ass-but-still-kinda-badass celebrity I get it, trust me. The irony is not lost on me. It's just not that funny. Except the one about how he stopped world hunger by eating all the hungry people. That's funny but only because it mocks human suffering. Haha human suffering LoL!!

What else to talk about? Well we are making PSA's in Production & Editing. That stands for Public Service Announcement for any of you that aren't that smart (haha Chuck Norris haha!). It does not stand for "Piece of Shit Assignment" like I originally thought. Ours is about the dangers of plastic surgery. Only it's funny because we end up telling people that the thousands of injuries and incidents related to plastic surgery is totally worth it to look better. It's a satire so don't be offended. Don't give me any guff.

So there. A post. Took less than 5 minutes. And look it's even longer than the little bite size happy meal french fry entries that you guys write on myspace.

PS. Spellcheck didn't recognize the word "blog." That's funny because this website is blogspot.com. Haha Chuck Norris!

A Letter

Dear Everybody In America,

Napolean Dynamite was funny. But you ruined it. And now it's not funny anymore. You said "Gawd!!!" and "Tina eat your ham!" so many times that it has completely lost its humor. Everyone and their brother has a stupid "Vote For Pedro" shirt that isn't even worth wearing on laundry day. No longer is it amusing to joke that girls like guys with "skills." In fact, each and every line from that movie has been impersonated (and usually poorly) so many times that I don't think I can ever appreciate it again.

Thank you, Napolean Dynamite, for the fun and fancy free humor that you brought to us. It is unfortunate that you had to die a slow and painful death.

Napolean Dynamite. RIP.

Buried next to Austin Powers, in the cemetary for movies killed by terrible, terrible impressions.