I always kind of knew I wouldn't be at Western for four years. I was leaving Kalamazoo knowing full well that I wasn't coming back. It was hard. This was before emotional goodbyes became second nature to me. To really drive home the fact that I didn't belong at WMU anymore, my roommates threw a party on my last night in town. Here's the thing...it was a birthday party for our neighbor. It wasn't until much later that the "/Steve's going away" was hastily tagged onto the end of "Jason's Birthday." That's right, I got second billing in my own house. But that's neither here nor there. My farewell to the 'Zoo was already covered in Chapter 10.
I don’t know if it was a subconscious fear of leaving or just plain laziness, but I really took my time on the packing front. We were supposed to leave for the airport at 4am, and I didn’t even make an attempt to get my stuff together until 2. It’s one thing to wait until the last minute to pack before a trip, but I wasn’t going on some week-long getaway. I was moving. For reals. Here’s the thing about moving, though. You can’t fit your life in two suitcases. Hell, you can barely fit your GameCube. Luckily, these apartments we were living in were fully furnished and came with all of that stuff. That’s right, Disney College Program students got to have
“the opportunity to meet and live with people from all over the country, as well as the world, within the housing complexes. These complexes are diverse in their amenities and floor plans. Each offers the opportunity to meet fellow participants and create a sense of home in a comfortable living community.”
You hear that? Just like home!
And it’s true. You definitely feel at home, especially if your home life consists of:
1. No overnight visitors.
2. Getting written up by security for leaving your patio door open.
3. Scabies.
When I was assigned an apartment, the kind lady asked me if I minded living with people who had arrived shortly before I did, and would move out shortly before me. Thinking this meant they got there a week earlier, I happily agreed and signed my contract for 11103 Chatham Manor Blvd. What a terrible address. All of those 1's. So I show up and move into the new place. Turns out that when the kind lady said the people had arrived "shortly" before me, she meant six months. I can see how six months can be considered a short period of time if you're engaged to be married or are dying of a terminal illness, but when your entire College Program experience is eight months, that's quite a different perspective. Turns out that Phil, Robby, Jeremy, Joe, and Rob had already completed their programs and extended until May. Whereas every other new CP was out exploring Walt Disney World with their new roomies, I sat alone on the couch while mine were at work. That simple act is probably what garnered me the nickname "Guy on Couch" for the first month.
I didn't have a lot of good friends in Florida. I just didn't fit in. I wasn't a big enough badass to run with the renegades, but I was too cool for the Disney freaks. One night, on the bus ride home from Magic Kingdom (yes, I went to Magic Kingdom alone. Ridiculous), I overheard a girl sitting on the bus behind me. She was one of our new Rescue Rangers. I turned around and introduced myself. Her name was Kara. The first thing she said to me was "I haven't started yet, but I hear our boss is a bitch." With those few words, I immediately knew I needed someone like Kara in my life to make it through the second half of the program. Kara and I wasted no time in talking smack about everyone and everything. I taught her a lot of important lessons, like how if you re supposed to be bussing tables at Electric Umbrella, you can just go upstairs and hide and no one will know you're gone. We also had fun playing with astronaut blankets at the Mission:Space gift shop, where our two favorite managers, Lehlee and Joey, worked. Lehlee was a sultry Asian fox who, much like a speeding locomotive, you did now want to get in the way of. This is an actual conversation I had with her:
Steve: I can't wear these sunglasses anymore. They're hurting my eyes.
Lehlee: How many you sell?
Steve: None. I can't see anything and I'm feeling nauseous.
Lehlee: You sell three more.
Joey, on the other hand, was certainly a nice guy. But bless his heart, he had a short-term memory disorder. That's really the only explanation I could give for why every time I worked with Joey, which was frequently, he felt the need to introduce himself and comment on how we had never met. The only time Joey actually did remember me was when he felt inclined to scold me for leaving Test Track one day without asking. Sure, the ride was down. Sure, it was twenty minutes after the time I was scheduled to leave. I'm not exactly sure what purpose I would have served by staying. Maybe Joey was just upset he didn't get to introduce himself for the 14th time that day.
Kara and I had a lot in common, so she called me her Twinkie. I found this nickname to be really gay, so I called her Twigger in return. One of the most memorable moments of the entire program was probably one of my last weekends there. Hurricane Charley. It was me, Kara, and Robby (whom Kara nicknamed "Divalicious"). We watched the news, witnessed trees getting uprooted from the ground right outside our window, and answered phone calls from our worried mothers every fifteen minutes. We were safe, warm, and cozy, until we saw people actually running outside in the middle of it all and thought "That looks fun!" And off we went. Twigger got hit by a falling gutter, which was pretty funny. The rain was coming down so hard it hurt, and the second you stepped out into it you were drenched. We ran around, had our fun, then decided to go back inside. After drying off, we settled back down, all warm and cozy. Until we got bored and decided to go run around outside again. By the end of the night, we had changed our clothes about 5 times (because who wants to put on wet drawers
I lived in Chatham Square Apartments. The other complex was Vista Way. Chatham was nicknamed "Cheat-on-him," while Vista was affectionately dubbed "Vista Lay." Yes, those Disney College Program kids are known to get a little wild. Especially on Thursday nights, when they get into Pleasure Island for free. Legend has it that the hot tub at Vista was even listed in Playboy as one of the best places for a college student to get laid. In general, I think the CP's (that's what we called ourselves) were divided into two groups of people. Hardcore-party-animal-sexaholics...and Mormons. There were a LOT of Mormons in Florida. Nice people. Smiley. And they love to watch "Friends." I wasn't a crazy partier (which is odd, considering the lifestyle I left in Kalamazoo), and I wasn't much of a Mormon either. This made my social life very difficult. I could either go out to dinner at Steak and Shake and be back home and in bed by 8:30pm, or I could go out to Jungle Jim's and watch other people drink, since I was 20.
Every Rescue Ranger had one quality or trait that they became notorious for. Emily always left early. Mary Beth showed up drunk in the morning. Greg couldn't work Sundays because of his Mormon beliefs/laziness. Everyone knew that I was the one who was constantly being put on "light duty" due to my ability to find new and innovative ways to mutilate my face to a point where it was so unsightly that I was asked not to interact with guests. The first time this occurred was when I was assigned to be the greeter at Mission:Space. Basically this job meant making sure kids were tall enough to ride, reciting the words "It's uses centrifugal forces to simulate an actual rocket launch," ad nauseam, and getting second degree burns on my face from standing in the Florida sun for eight hours. I got two days off from work for this one, and when I returned I was sent to a small desk in the corner of the administration offices with a stack of file folders and a label maker, which they had affectionately named Larry. That day consisted of labeling a file folders for eight hours straight and getting told by countless people that I should have worn sunscreen. Like I didn't know what sunscreen was. Surely, had I any knowledge of this miracle lotion I would have applied copious amounts all day! Alas, hindsight is always 20/20. Sunscreen, eh? That's new. Another women kept telling me to put aloe on my increasingly scabby cheeks. Wait...ALOE? ALOE FOR SUNBURN?! I was being overwhelmed with BRAND NEW INFORMATION!
The second head injury occurred on the 4th of July. After watching the fireworks at Epcot and consuming absolutely NO alcohol (the fact that I was stone cold sober makes me come off as an even bigger dumbass), we decided to have a piggyback race backstage. Rachel, a fellow Rescue Ranger, hopped on my back and we took off. Piggyback rides aren't usually dangerous, but when you're racing someone and it's dark out, the stakes are raised exponentially. I stepped down off of a curb and twisted my ankle. Rachel and I both flew forward onto the pavement, and she landed on my head. My first thought was "Oh God what if I just killed Rachel!?" My second thought was "Oh God I hit my head, what if I go retarded!?" After reading a book in fifth grade about a girl who fell off a horse and hit her head, I've always had a fear of sustaining a head injury and "going" retarded. Luckily, Rachel was alive and my mental health was just as good as it ever was, which doesn't say much, considering the fact that competed and fell in a piggyback race. Rachel had quite a gash across her arm, and my head was bleeding profusely. Everyone around us found the entire scene to be hilarious. Luckily we were behind the World Showcase, so all of the things being shouted at Rachel and me were in other languages. It was safe to assume that the fellow castmembers were laughing and shouting things like "Goodness! Are you okay?!" as opposed to something like "What a fucking dumbass!"
With a gash across my forehead, I was once again deemed unsuitable for the eyes of visitors. This time, I was introduced to Larry the labelmaker's close friend, Shelly the shredder. After a few hours of shredding files (I could pretend that they were top secret documents containing classified Disney information, but it was mostly just payroll), I was transferred to a different office, where I met Twigger. Twigger had thrown up in the garbage (or so she said), and requested to spend the rest of the day doing something other than custodial. Or maybe she purposely inhaled chemicals. Either way, she hated custodial and would rather hear her first born child's death rattle than clean up a "protein spill." The two of us were assigned to the most important duty on all of Disney property. Sharpening pencils. This wasn't really a two person job, considering the fact that despite the thousands of pencils, there was only one sharpener. Not to mention the fact that after sharpening three pencils, the piece of garbage would overheat. You'd have to wait about fifteen minutes for it to work again. Two hours and fifteen pencils later, we went back to deployment and begged them to let us go home. Mind-numbing busy work, although quite Zen, is not worth six bucks an hour.
I showed up in January with about 40 other new Rescue Rangers. About a dozen of us made it to the end and graduated.
How's that for a hook?
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Stories that sucked at the time but are now funny when I tell them.
I don't write a lot because I only want to post entertaining stories. Sure, I could sign on every day and tell you I bought Aquafresh at the dollar store or that after running my ass sweat turned the white to pink on my checkered boxers, but I'd rather hold off on that stuff and only record moments and anecdotes that mean something. In the words of the Huckabee's girl, "It's not quantity not quality!"
With that said, there is a new Walgreens in North Hollywood that I will never be going to again. On Friday, they called me to tell me that they were out of my prescription and the soonest I could get it would be Monday. Sure sure, that's fine. I can wait. Patience is a virtue, you know, and since I'm not modest, honest, friendly, or good looking, the only way I can get people to like me is if I really hold my fucking horses. So I'm-a gon' wait till Monday. No biggie. Now, Monday after work, I head right over to the CBS Radford lot because Virginia Madsen is meeting with all of the Semester in LA students from 2007 and giving us a little lecture and Q&A time. Pretty cool, huh? She was very nice, totally down to earth, and somewhat inspiring. I use the word "somewhat" because after an entire five-week intensive course of people saying "you can do what you put your mind to! Don't give up! Stay true to yourself and good things will happen!" the whole spiel starts to lose its luster, even if the person saying it did star in "Firewall" with Harrison Ford. All the same, Virginia was very cool. And she looked great.
*Small side note before getting back to the Walgreens story. Consider this a tangent of a tangent, if you will. I was unsure of using the word "luster" and so I was going to check a thesaurus and see if I could find something better, but Stephen King says that any word you have to hunt for in a thesaurus is the wrong word. Remember that.
Monday night's event doesn't bring about any concern, since it ends at nine and the Walgreens website clearly states that their pharmacy closes at ten. I get there at 9:05, and guess what? Closed. Closedy closed closed closed. I'm pretty perturbed about this. On any other day I would have shrugged, taken a chocolate tootsie pop out of my car's CD holder and sang along to "Oil and Water" by Incubus on the way home, but not this day. You see, Monday morning started off with me taking over two hours to get to work, due to a horrible accident on the 101. Not only was the 101 a parking lot, but every street within two miles was just as bad. I was still walking distance from my apartment 45 minutes after leaving. As I tried to figure out who to bother with my patented "I'm stuck in traffic, entertain me" phone calls, I thought to myself how I really hoped that this terrible morning was not going to be an indicator of the rest of my day. Ohhh, but it was. When I finally got in, I had to go pick up a cake from some dog bakery in Pasadena for our accountant's dog's 1st birthday party, as well as cupcakes for the people to eat. I go get the cake, and stop at PetCo for some birthday presents for Rambo, and then head up the street to the cupcake bakery. Turns out the cupcake bakery only takes Visa and Mastercard. The corporate card we use is American Express. I had to go all the way back to the office, trade the card for petty cash, and go all the way back out to Pasadena. For cupcakes. For a dog's birthday party. The rest of my day was filled with similar debacles that I don't feel like getting into on account of I have a lot more stuff to cover and I still haven't said why I hate this Walgreens.
I hate this Walgreens because when I returned the next morning, half of the parking lot was being taken up by a giant tent, podium, and buffet tables. This was the grand opening ceremony. Are you fucking kidding me?! A grand opening for a Walgreens?! What the fuck is there to celebrate? That this is the sixth one in a two mile radius? Who the fuck needs to speak? Who would even attend this? Am I really going to have to put off getting my prescription a third time because there is nowhere to park due to an OPENING DAY CEREMONY FOR A FUCKING WALGREENS? And the store was open the night before! It wasn't even opening day! From now on, I only shop at pharmacies that don't celebrate.
In case you were wondering, I double parked and ran in. Due to my job, double parking has become second nature. Sometimes I have to deliver something to a place with no lot and nothing available on the street. When that happens, I think that it is my God-given right to park wherever I need to in order to get my job done. As if the police or meter maids are going to accept Manifest Destiny as an acceptable excuse and let me go without a ticket.
Today my boss asked if I wanted to go on a run to Venice to pick up some props for one of our shows. I didn't mine. My Focus gets such good mileage that when they reimburse me for gas money, I actually make a decent profit, so I never turn down a run, especially if it's going to kill a lot of time. A little while later, she receives an email with my instructions. I will now repeat to you exactly what I was told to do in order to procure the props, which were old vinyl records.
"...his place is unlocked. you have to jump the fence via the alley. The alley is behind the house."
So, yeah. I'm basically going to this guys house, jumping a fence and walking right inside. Sounds crazy, right? That's not even the half of it. A few things that they could have mentioned before sending me off to break and enter...
-The guy whose place I'm breaking into? It's not even his property. He rents the guest house. That means I'm climbing into some stranger's yard. This makes me slightly uncomfortable.
-The fence I'm supposed to climb is not some hip-length chain link fence that you can easily jump over. It is taller than me and although it is still chain link, it has wooden boards up against it. These boards were probably attached in order to keep people from seeing into their yard...or...I dunno....CLIMBING?
-I laugh it off and decide to just go for it and climb the damn 7 foot tall fence into a complete strangers back yard. I enter this guys house and find the vinyls. Three tall stacks of them. Now, how the HELL am I supposed to get 100 records over this fence? I ended up sliding them (two by two) through the small crack between the (locked) gate and the fence. It was not ideal. When I got them all through and climbed to the other side, I had to go through and put them all back together into piles.
I finally get back to the office with all of these stupid vinyls, and the guy who was supposed to take them to Ventura has already left.
I wasn't pissed though. It was fun.
With that said, there is a new Walgreens in North Hollywood that I will never be going to again. On Friday, they called me to tell me that they were out of my prescription and the soonest I could get it would be Monday. Sure sure, that's fine. I can wait. Patience is a virtue, you know, and since I'm not modest, honest, friendly, or good looking, the only way I can get people to like me is if I really hold my fucking horses. So I'm-a gon' wait till Monday. No biggie. Now, Monday after work, I head right over to the CBS Radford lot because Virginia Madsen is meeting with all of the Semester in LA students from 2007 and giving us a little lecture and Q&A time. Pretty cool, huh? She was very nice, totally down to earth, and somewhat inspiring. I use the word "somewhat" because after an entire five-week intensive course of people saying "you can do what you put your mind to! Don't give up! Stay true to yourself and good things will happen!" the whole spiel starts to lose its luster, even if the person saying it did star in "Firewall" with Harrison Ford. All the same, Virginia was very cool. And she looked great.
*Small side note before getting back to the Walgreens story. Consider this a tangent of a tangent, if you will. I was unsure of using the word "luster" and so I was going to check a thesaurus and see if I could find something better, but Stephen King says that any word you have to hunt for in a thesaurus is the wrong word. Remember that.
Monday night's event doesn't bring about any concern, since it ends at nine and the Walgreens website clearly states that their pharmacy closes at ten. I get there at 9:05, and guess what? Closed. Closedy closed closed closed. I'm pretty perturbed about this. On any other day I would have shrugged, taken a chocolate tootsie pop out of my car's CD holder and sang along to "Oil and Water" by Incubus on the way home, but not this day. You see, Monday morning started off with me taking over two hours to get to work, due to a horrible accident on the 101. Not only was the 101 a parking lot, but every street within two miles was just as bad. I was still walking distance from my apartment 45 minutes after leaving. As I tried to figure out who to bother with my patented "I'm stuck in traffic, entertain me" phone calls, I thought to myself how I really hoped that this terrible morning was not going to be an indicator of the rest of my day. Ohhh, but it was. When I finally got in, I had to go pick up a cake from some dog bakery in Pasadena for our accountant's dog's 1st birthday party, as well as cupcakes for the people to eat. I go get the cake, and stop at PetCo for some birthday presents for Rambo, and then head up the street to the cupcake bakery. Turns out the cupcake bakery only takes Visa and Mastercard. The corporate card we use is American Express. I had to go all the way back to the office, trade the card for petty cash, and go all the way back out to Pasadena. For cupcakes. For a dog's birthday party. The rest of my day was filled with similar debacles that I don't feel like getting into on account of I have a lot more stuff to cover and I still haven't said why I hate this Walgreens.
I hate this Walgreens because when I returned the next morning, half of the parking lot was being taken up by a giant tent, podium, and buffet tables. This was the grand opening ceremony. Are you fucking kidding me?! A grand opening for a Walgreens?! What the fuck is there to celebrate? That this is the sixth one in a two mile radius? Who the fuck needs to speak? Who would even attend this? Am I really going to have to put off getting my prescription a third time because there is nowhere to park due to an OPENING DAY CEREMONY FOR A FUCKING WALGREENS? And the store was open the night before! It wasn't even opening day! From now on, I only shop at pharmacies that don't celebrate.
In case you were wondering, I double parked and ran in. Due to my job, double parking has become second nature. Sometimes I have to deliver something to a place with no lot and nothing available on the street. When that happens, I think that it is my God-given right to park wherever I need to in order to get my job done. As if the police or meter maids are going to accept Manifest Destiny as an acceptable excuse and let me go without a ticket.
Today my boss asked if I wanted to go on a run to Venice to pick up some props for one of our shows. I didn't mine. My Focus gets such good mileage that when they reimburse me for gas money, I actually make a decent profit, so I never turn down a run, especially if it's going to kill a lot of time. A little while later, she receives an email with my instructions. I will now repeat to you exactly what I was told to do in order to procure the props, which were old vinyl records.
"...his place is unlocked. you have to jump the fence via the alley. The alley is behind the house."
So, yeah. I'm basically going to this guys house, jumping a fence and walking right inside. Sounds crazy, right? That's not even the half of it. A few things that they could have mentioned before sending me off to break and enter...
-The guy whose place I'm breaking into? It's not even his property. He rents the guest house. That means I'm climbing into some stranger's yard. This makes me slightly uncomfortable.
-The fence I'm supposed to climb is not some hip-length chain link fence that you can easily jump over. It is taller than me and although it is still chain link, it has wooden boards up against it. These boards were probably attached in order to keep people from seeing into their yard...or...I dunno....CLIMBING?
-I laugh it off and decide to just go for it and climb the damn 7 foot tall fence into a complete strangers back yard. I enter this guys house and find the vinyls. Three tall stacks of them. Now, how the HELL am I supposed to get 100 records over this fence? I ended up sliding them (two by two) through the small crack between the (locked) gate and the fence. It was not ideal. When I got them all through and climbed to the other side, I had to go through and put them all back together into piles.
I finally get back to the office with all of these stupid vinyls, and the guy who was supposed to take them to Ventura has already left.
I wasn't pissed though. It was fun.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Allow me to explain.
A few minutes ago I was looking on facebook for probably the 20th time today. Somebody I barely know who I worked with two years ago had uploaded a new photo album, and I clicked to see the pictures. That's when it dawned on me.
I don't care about this kid's pictures. I don't care what he's up to. I don't about him in general. So why did I feel so inclined to view his latest album?
Then, I went back to the list of updated profiles and scrolled down the rest of the friends.
And honestly, I have no reason to care what 99 percent of those people are up to right now.
I didn't delete my facebook because I am friends with a lot of people on there who I have no other way of contacting. However, I just crossed into a new state of consciousness. A plane of existence that not many other people my age have experienced. It's the place you go when you realize that at the end of the day, Facebook is a gigantic waste of time.
And no, I'm not drunk and feeling rebellious. If you want to know my work info, favorite quotes, or status, then fucking ask me. Don't look it up on a web page.
I don't care about this kid's pictures. I don't care what he's up to. I don't about him in general. So why did I feel so inclined to view his latest album?
Then, I went back to the list of updated profiles and scrolled down the rest of the friends.
And honestly, I have no reason to care what 99 percent of those people are up to right now.
I didn't delete my facebook because I am friends with a lot of people on there who I have no other way of contacting. However, I just crossed into a new state of consciousness. A plane of existence that not many other people my age have experienced. It's the place you go when you realize that at the end of the day, Facebook is a gigantic waste of time.
And no, I'm not drunk and feeling rebellious. If you want to know my work info, favorite quotes, or status, then fucking ask me. Don't look it up on a web page.
Monday, August 06, 2007
psych!
First and foremost, the last post was a hoax.
Dangles wasn't sure what to write her blog about, and so I broke out my Writer's Block. It's a small book with over 700 pages of words, quotes, and pictures that are designed to spark the imagination! After I randomly turned to a page and gave her the spark word of "indulgence," I decided to do the same thing. My word was "hitchhiker." With such a specific spark word, my only option was to tell a story about hitchhiking. Since I've never been, my only option was to make one up. Yes, it's true. You've been had.
But let's not dwell!
I got a job as a production assistant at a company that does reality shows. I'll gladly tell you what company and what shows, but I don't want to be posting all my professional biznass on the wide wide world of web.
Today, however, I am a temp assistant at Weinstein again. Just today, and never again. It's an obligation that I made before interviewing, and I needed to fulfill it. Being back, however, as conjured up all of the memories of my life as an intern. Yeah, I'm well aware it was like...a month ago, but it feels like much longer. Mostly because Karen is gone, the other interns are gone, and I don't know anyone. Another thing I've come to realize upon my return to TWC is how my life has come a complete 180 in the past month. I was miserable for a while. I still can't decide if moving in with Mike and Jim made all that better or worse. On the plus side, I was living with friends. Contrariwise, I was working 45 hours a week (for free), then coming home with even more stuff to do, while they explored LA, drank all day, and enjoyed the Honeymoon portion of their arrival to California. I was busy, poor, and depressed, and basically hit rock bottom. But now, things are much better and I'm flyin' high.
For one thing, the roommates have entered the real world as well, so I no longer feel like Old Man Crotchett, going to bed and complaining that those rambunctious little whippersnappers are keeping me up at night. Most importantly, though, is the fact that I GOT A JOB. And I love it. A lot. I get to go on runs and pick up and deliver anything from tweezers to Emmy tickets. I get to work normal hours. I get paid well. I couldn't be happier. Unlike the fancy shmancy Hollywood places I've been interviewing and interning at previously, my job is downtown, in a very old building in a less pristine part of town. It reminds me of the 624 S. Michigan building, only a little shabbier. The who neighborhood has a State Street vibe. Not H&M-and-Nordstrom-Rack State Street, but Wig-Store-and-homeless-people-in-front-of-Beef-and-Brandy State Street. In fact, I still have this feeling in my mind that there is a giant body of water on the other side of my the street. I like being downtown again. Even if it's kinda gross and I saw a city worker smoking a blunt with a homeless lady who had no shoes. My biggest concern with work is that since I'm technically on a trial-run, my boss is going to decide I'm not a keeper and throw me back into the murky dark waters of unemployment. Tomorrow I'm going to go in and impress the crap out of everyone.
So...life in LA is looking up. I had a GREAT weekend because I came out of my shell for once and didn't make half ass excuses as to why I couldn't go out. Positive attitudes are swell.
Oh, and Dangles just bought her tickets to LA. Labor Day weekend.
Here's a recipe for disaster:
Las Vegas.
+Me
+Flavin.
+Krasman.
+Dangles.
It is the worst idea ever, and I can't wait.
Dangles wasn't sure what to write her blog about, and so I broke out my Writer's Block. It's a small book with over 700 pages of words, quotes, and pictures that are designed to spark the imagination! After I randomly turned to a page and gave her the spark word of "indulgence," I decided to do the same thing. My word was "hitchhiker." With such a specific spark word, my only option was to tell a story about hitchhiking. Since I've never been, my only option was to make one up. Yes, it's true. You've been had.
But let's not dwell!
I got a job as a production assistant at a company that does reality shows. I'll gladly tell you what company and what shows, but I don't want to be posting all my professional biznass on the wide wide world of web.
Today, however, I am a temp assistant at Weinstein again. Just today, and never again. It's an obligation that I made before interviewing, and I needed to fulfill it. Being back, however, as conjured up all of the memories of my life as an intern. Yeah, I'm well aware it was like...a month ago, but it feels like much longer. Mostly because Karen is gone, the other interns are gone, and I don't know anyone. Another thing I've come to realize upon my return to TWC is how my life has come a complete 180 in the past month. I was miserable for a while. I still can't decide if moving in with Mike and Jim made all that better or worse. On the plus side, I was living with friends. Contrariwise, I was working 45 hours a week (for free), then coming home with even more stuff to do, while they explored LA, drank all day, and enjoyed the Honeymoon portion of their arrival to California. I was busy, poor, and depressed, and basically hit rock bottom. But now, things are much better and I'm flyin' high.
For one thing, the roommates have entered the real world as well, so I no longer feel like Old Man Crotchett, going to bed and complaining that those rambunctious little whippersnappers are keeping me up at night. Most importantly, though, is the fact that I GOT A JOB. And I love it. A lot. I get to go on runs and pick up and deliver anything from tweezers to Emmy tickets. I get to work normal hours. I get paid well. I couldn't be happier. Unlike the fancy shmancy Hollywood places I've been interviewing and interning at previously, my job is downtown, in a very old building in a less pristine part of town. It reminds me of the 624 S. Michigan building, only a little shabbier. The who neighborhood has a State Street vibe. Not H&M-and-Nordstrom-Rack State Street, but Wig-Store-and-homeless-people-in-front-of-Beef-and-Brandy State Street. In fact, I still have this feeling in my mind that there is a giant body of water on the other side of my the street. I like being downtown again. Even if it's kinda gross and I saw a city worker smoking a blunt with a homeless lady who had no shoes. My biggest concern with work is that since I'm technically on a trial-run, my boss is going to decide I'm not a keeper and throw me back into the murky dark waters of unemployment. Tomorrow I'm going to go in and impress the crap out of everyone.
So...life in LA is looking up. I had a GREAT weekend because I came out of my shell for once and didn't make half ass excuses as to why I couldn't go out. Positive attitudes are swell.
Oh, and Dangles just bought her tickets to LA. Labor Day weekend.
Here's a recipe for disaster:
Las Vegas.
+Me
+Flavin.
+Krasman.
+Dangles.
It is the worst idea ever, and I can't wait.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
The Hitchhikers's Guide to the Valley
I've done some stupid stuff. We all know this. It's kind of what makes me quirky and charming. No doubt it probably knocks several decades off my life expectancy, but let's just focus on quirky and charming.
I ran out of gas on my way home from class yesterday. This moment was a long time coming, since I generally don't put more than five dollars worth of gas in my car at a time, and the gas light is warning me on quite a consistent basis. But here's where the situation gets sticky...
I have to drive over a large hill (I don't know why everyone calls it a "hill," because for all intents and purposes, it's mountain-sized) every day. Going up the hill, when I'm on an incline, the gas light is always on, because of the way the gauge is set up in my tank. On the way downhill, the gauge always says I have more than I do. One may think that these variables are easy to take into consideration and work around, but believe me, sometimes laziness/stupidity will catch up with you. My incompetence came and bit me on the ass halfway up Laurel Canyon, when I finally ran out of gas. What do you do when you run out of gas? Pull over, obviously, but then what? I wanted to call someone and have them come help me, but I would have felt like a huge dumbass. Not like walking all the way over the hill to a gas station and explaining the situation would be any better, but at least the gas station attendant wouldn't make fun of me for the rest of my life like my friends would. If you work at a gas station, you're in no position to judge. Plus I could just mosey on in, smile, say that I've come to purchase some gasoline for my riding lawn mower, and no one's the wiser.
Walking up a mountain when it's 97 degrees out sucks. Yeah, some might say "well at least it's a dry heat!" To them, I say "Fuck you. It's still 97 degrees no matter how you slice it." It always looks so sexy in movies, when people's cars break down and they have to find the nearest service station for help. Toned bodies glisten with sweat in the sun, while miraculously we witness no pit stains or swamp ass.
I don't know what possessed me to do what I did next. Perhaps it was curiosity. Or maybe temporary insanity brought on by dehydration and chafed thighs. Could have been the fact that I feel safe anywhere I go in LA as long as I see a lot of nice cars around. Whatever the reason, I slowly lifted my left arm, held my hand up towards the road...and stuck my thumb out.
Don't worry. I lived to tell the tale. Not only that, but I got a free tank of gas, and had Mojitos with Andrea Barber. (IMDB her if you must.) It's really a fun story that I'll have to get around to telling one day.
I ran out of gas on my way home from class yesterday. This moment was a long time coming, since I generally don't put more than five dollars worth of gas in my car at a time, and the gas light is warning me on quite a consistent basis. But here's where the situation gets sticky...
I have to drive over a large hill (I don't know why everyone calls it a "hill," because for all intents and purposes, it's mountain-sized) every day. Going up the hill, when I'm on an incline, the gas light is always on, because of the way the gauge is set up in my tank. On the way downhill, the gauge always says I have more than I do. One may think that these variables are easy to take into consideration and work around, but believe me, sometimes laziness/stupidity will catch up with you. My incompetence came and bit me on the ass halfway up Laurel Canyon, when I finally ran out of gas. What do you do when you run out of gas? Pull over, obviously, but then what? I wanted to call someone and have them come help me, but I would have felt like a huge dumbass. Not like walking all the way over the hill to a gas station and explaining the situation would be any better, but at least the gas station attendant wouldn't make fun of me for the rest of my life like my friends would. If you work at a gas station, you're in no position to judge. Plus I could just mosey on in, smile, say that I've come to purchase some gasoline for my riding lawn mower, and no one's the wiser.
Walking up a mountain when it's 97 degrees out sucks. Yeah, some might say "well at least it's a dry heat!" To them, I say "Fuck you. It's still 97 degrees no matter how you slice it." It always looks so sexy in movies, when people's cars break down and they have to find the nearest service station for help. Toned bodies glisten with sweat in the sun, while miraculously we witness no pit stains or swamp ass.
I don't know what possessed me to do what I did next. Perhaps it was curiosity. Or maybe temporary insanity brought on by dehydration and chafed thighs. Could have been the fact that I feel safe anywhere I go in LA as long as I see a lot of nice cars around. Whatever the reason, I slowly lifted my left arm, held my hand up towards the road...and stuck my thumb out.
Don't worry. I lived to tell the tale. Not only that, but I got a free tank of gas, and had Mojitos with Andrea Barber. (IMDB her if you must.) It's really a fun story that I'll have to get around to telling one day.
Friday, July 13, 2007
I wore black sneakers to my Grandpa's funeral
Now seems like as good of time as any to finally write this. Every time I thought the story was over, something else happened. It's epic, really.
I wasn't in a good mood last Tuesday. Not sure why, but I definitely had my grumpy pants on. I was tired and ornery, and decided to just go to bed early. So I did. I keep a picture of my grandparents on my desk, and I looked at it before I went to bed. Something felt off. Wrong.
I got the phone call at 5 am. My aunt was calling. I knew exactly what it was, but I let the phone ring. If she didn't call right back, then it wasn't anything too important, obviously.
She called right back.
My grandpa died that morning.
My first reaction wasn't shock. It wasn't disbelief. It wasn't tears. There really wasn't a first reaction. My aunt was crying, but I don't know if it was because I was so tired, or just had no idea how to react, but I just stayed quiet and calm. Of course, despite the fact that it was 5am, I couldn't go back to bed. Even if I could have gone back to sleep, it just would have felt wrong to. Like...I find out this terrible news and just go back to bed. I went into the living room and turned on the TV. I watched three episodes of Married With Children and finally fell asleep for a little while. That whole morning is just a blur of sleep and tears. I woke up again at 11 and couldn't believe it was so early. It felt like days had gone by since my aunt called, but it wasn't even lunch time.
Telling people was the hardest. I've never lost anyone before, so I'm just not sure what the appropriate behavior is. I decided sleeping all day was the best coping mechanism. Eventually I had to tell my roommates, which was the first time I had to say it out loud. It was hard.
To complicate matters, my grandma just had open-heart surgery the day before. She was doing well in recovery, but how do you tell her that her husband died when just had such an intense procedure? The worst part was probably coming to the realization that she wouldn't be able to go to Grandpa's funeral. We tried to work it out, but the funeral home couldn't hold on to him forever, and recovery from open surgery can take weeks, if not months. I went to work on Thursday, but about ten minutes into the day, I decided that I couldn't wait for the weekend to go home. I got online, bought tickets for the same flight Millie was flying home on (not having to fly back alone made a BIG difference to me), and by midnight, I was back in Detroit.
It was heartbreaking when we went to visit my grandma, because she still didn't know we were having the funeral without her. There was a lot of hostility within the family as to whether or not this was the right thing to do, but what was the alternative? In the end, she gave us her blessing to proceed with the funeral, and when she's feeling better, we'll have a memorial mass that she can attend.
So...the next few days were filled with typical bereavement. The hugs, the crying, the preparations, etc. Sunday was the first night of visitation at the funeral home. I wondered why they gave immediate family an hour before the rest of the people were invited, but it probably has something to do with how emotional everyone gets when you see the body for the first time. You want to be with your family, not trying to explain to your great aunt who you haven't seen since graduation how a person can get a degree in Television. I've never dealt with death before, so this was a new and most unsavory experience. The worst part was going through all of this while my grandma sat alone in a hospital room. She should have been there, and it hurt us all that she couldn't.
On Monday, we went to go visit Grandma before heading to the funeral home for more visiting. (Eight hours at a funeral home, is that normal? It shouldn't be. You really forget that you're even mourning when you're bored out of your mind and starving). I should also mention that the funeral was held in Bad Axe, Michigan. A very small farm community in the Thumb of the state. They are a different breed up there. They don't drive fancy cars and eat at expensive restaurant. They're simple folk, just as you'd expect a farmer to be.
Which is why I wore black sneakers to my Grandpa's funeral.
On the way to the hospital, we got a phone call that my other grandpa, my mom's dad, had a stroke, and that we should prepare for the worst. After the funeral, I went to see my Grandma one more time, before going back to Novi and seeing my other grandpa. When I said goodbye to him, I knew it was the last time, because at this point we all knew he wasn't going to make it much longer. Despite this, I still flew back to LA. What could I do in Michigan? Sit and wait for him to die? I just buried one of my grandparents. I needed a break. I needed to get back to normal, even if it meant flying back to Michigan a few days later.
Sure enough, I got that phone call on Saturday night. Grandpa B had passed. Time to go back home. This time I didn't take a whole week off. I just couldn't. I came home for two days, just for the funeral and burial. I don't know why, but this time around I wasn't as emotional. I think I was emotionally drained. I didn't have it in me anymore to grieve. Of course, that all changed at the funeral. I was fine for the most of it, but then came the part where all of the grandkids took up a rose and put it in a vase. There we were, all 18 of his grandkids, each one sobbing more than the cousin in front of them. My grandma was crying too, as was everyone else in church, as we all put our pink roses in the vase. At the end of the service, my aunt went up front and asked that we pray for the other relatives we have lost as well, and she mentioned my other grandpa. That's when it really hit me. The funerals were only a week apart. Grandpa Balagna died 10 days after Grandpa Ochoa.
Both were military burials, which I think are 100 times harder than a normal one because they play "Taps" and hand the folded flag to a family member.
It was a rough few weeks, that's for sure. But now I'm back in California, kind of employed, and moving on. Both of my grandfathers were sarcastic, funny, and loved to crack wise, and I know that's where I get it from. They lived long, happy lives, and it was just their time to go. The following poem was on the back of the prayer cards at both of their funerals. And yes, it still hurts when I have to say "both."
God saw that you were getting tired
And a cure was not to be,
So he put his arms around you
and whispered come with me.
With tearful eyes we watched you
and saw you fade away,
Although we love you dearly,
we could not make you stay.
A golden heart stopped beating,
hardworking hands at rest.
God broke our hearts to prove to us -
He only takes the best.
I wasn't in a good mood last Tuesday. Not sure why, but I definitely had my grumpy pants on. I was tired and ornery, and decided to just go to bed early. So I did. I keep a picture of my grandparents on my desk, and I looked at it before I went to bed. Something felt off. Wrong.
I got the phone call at 5 am. My aunt was calling. I knew exactly what it was, but I let the phone ring. If she didn't call right back, then it wasn't anything too important, obviously.
She called right back.
My grandpa died that morning.
My first reaction wasn't shock. It wasn't disbelief. It wasn't tears. There really wasn't a first reaction. My aunt was crying, but I don't know if it was because I was so tired, or just had no idea how to react, but I just stayed quiet and calm. Of course, despite the fact that it was 5am, I couldn't go back to bed. Even if I could have gone back to sleep, it just would have felt wrong to. Like...I find out this terrible news and just go back to bed. I went into the living room and turned on the TV. I watched three episodes of Married With Children and finally fell asleep for a little while. That whole morning is just a blur of sleep and tears. I woke up again at 11 and couldn't believe it was so early. It felt like days had gone by since my aunt called, but it wasn't even lunch time.
Telling people was the hardest. I've never lost anyone before, so I'm just not sure what the appropriate behavior is. I decided sleeping all day was the best coping mechanism. Eventually I had to tell my roommates, which was the first time I had to say it out loud. It was hard.
To complicate matters, my grandma just had open-heart surgery the day before. She was doing well in recovery, but how do you tell her that her husband died when just had such an intense procedure? The worst part was probably coming to the realization that she wouldn't be able to go to Grandpa's funeral. We tried to work it out, but the funeral home couldn't hold on to him forever, and recovery from open surgery can take weeks, if not months. I went to work on Thursday, but about ten minutes into the day, I decided that I couldn't wait for the weekend to go home. I got online, bought tickets for the same flight Millie was flying home on (not having to fly back alone made a BIG difference to me), and by midnight, I was back in Detroit.
It was heartbreaking when we went to visit my grandma, because she still didn't know we were having the funeral without her. There was a lot of hostility within the family as to whether or not this was the right thing to do, but what was the alternative? In the end, she gave us her blessing to proceed with the funeral, and when she's feeling better, we'll have a memorial mass that she can attend.
So...the next few days were filled with typical bereavement. The hugs, the crying, the preparations, etc. Sunday was the first night of visitation at the funeral home. I wondered why they gave immediate family an hour before the rest of the people were invited, but it probably has something to do with how emotional everyone gets when you see the body for the first time. You want to be with your family, not trying to explain to your great aunt who you haven't seen since graduation how a person can get a degree in Television. I've never dealt with death before, so this was a new and most unsavory experience. The worst part was going through all of this while my grandma sat alone in a hospital room. She should have been there, and it hurt us all that she couldn't.
On Monday, we went to go visit Grandma before heading to the funeral home for more visiting. (Eight hours at a funeral home, is that normal? It shouldn't be. You really forget that you're even mourning when you're bored out of your mind and starving). I should also mention that the funeral was held in Bad Axe, Michigan. A very small farm community in the Thumb of the state. They are a different breed up there. They don't drive fancy cars and eat at expensive restaurant. They're simple folk, just as you'd expect a farmer to be.
Which is why I wore black sneakers to my Grandpa's funeral.
On the way to the hospital, we got a phone call that my other grandpa, my mom's dad, had a stroke, and that we should prepare for the worst. After the funeral, I went to see my Grandma one more time, before going back to Novi and seeing my other grandpa. When I said goodbye to him, I knew it was the last time, because at this point we all knew he wasn't going to make it much longer. Despite this, I still flew back to LA. What could I do in Michigan? Sit and wait for him to die? I just buried one of my grandparents. I needed a break. I needed to get back to normal, even if it meant flying back to Michigan a few days later.
Sure enough, I got that phone call on Saturday night. Grandpa B had passed. Time to go back home. This time I didn't take a whole week off. I just couldn't. I came home for two days, just for the funeral and burial. I don't know why, but this time around I wasn't as emotional. I think I was emotionally drained. I didn't have it in me anymore to grieve. Of course, that all changed at the funeral. I was fine for the most of it, but then came the part where all of the grandkids took up a rose and put it in a vase. There we were, all 18 of his grandkids, each one sobbing more than the cousin in front of them. My grandma was crying too, as was everyone else in church, as we all put our pink roses in the vase. At the end of the service, my aunt went up front and asked that we pray for the other relatives we have lost as well, and she mentioned my other grandpa. That's when it really hit me. The funerals were only a week apart. Grandpa Balagna died 10 days after Grandpa Ochoa.
Both were military burials, which I think are 100 times harder than a normal one because they play "Taps" and hand the folded flag to a family member.
It was a rough few weeks, that's for sure. But now I'm back in California, kind of employed, and moving on. Both of my grandfathers were sarcastic, funny, and loved to crack wise, and I know that's where I get it from. They lived long, happy lives, and it was just their time to go. The following poem was on the back of the prayer cards at both of their funerals. And yes, it still hurts when I have to say "both."
God saw that you were getting tired
And a cure was not to be,
So he put his arms around you
and whispered come with me.
With tearful eyes we watched you
and saw you fade away,
Although we love you dearly,
we could not make you stay.
A golden heart stopped beating,
hardworking hands at rest.
God broke our hearts to prove to us -
He only takes the best.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
I'd LOVE to pay my own rent.
I had a life shattering crisis last week and Mike basically had to put me on suicide watch, but I'm better now. The stress of job searching got the better of me, I suppose. I'm well aware of the fact that in this industry I have to start at the bottom and work my way up, but if I want to write and do improv, then what the hell is the point in taking a job that gives me no time for writing and comedy?
I got a call for a job I really want. This happened Friday. I was away from my desk, and as soon as I got the message, I called the lady back. No answer. Called all day yesterday. No answer. Today? No answer. Perhaps she is out of the office because of the holiday? Let's hope.
I also interviewed at Deal or No Deal, but haven't heard back. I would take the job if I got it, but I'm not going to cry if I don't. Also got a call from a new crossword puzzle game show. Finding a job can take time, and considering the leads and interviews I've gotten in only a few weeks, things are going pretty damn well. However, I'm also broke and need to start working. And I need insurance. I've seriously considered quitting both internships and getting a random job just to make money, but I want to continue my ties at Weinstein, especially with my wonderful boss who is responsible for most of the interviews I've gotten. I'll work a few days a week at Weinstein, quit Offspring, and get a part time job for Thurs-Sun.
Mille and Jeff came this weekend! It was lots of fun. Friday night we went to this awesome little bar in Los Feliz and met our friend Maggie. Saturday I had improv (passed! Got accepted to the next level!) and then we went to a cemetery screening. It's pretty much the coolest thing ever. They play movies on a huge screen, similar to Grant Park, only it's in the Hollywood Forever cemetery. The movie was Roman Holiday. Dani would have LOVED the whole experience.
Sunday was DISNEYLAND!!!!!! Tons of fun. Lots of pictures. We rode everything twice. Except for Finding Nemo, which was far too long of a wait. I wouldn't stand in line for 2 hours to go on a real submarine, so I sure as shit won't do it for a pretend one that doesn't even fully submerge. While we were waiting in line for Indiana Jones (my all time favorite Disney ride at any park ever), some small creature flew into my face. I kinda freaked out, you know, since something flew into my face. It then fell down my chest and got stuck in my shirt. And do you wanna know what it was???
A baby bird. An adorable little chirping birdie.
The people around me in line were pissed that I swatted at it. But I didn't know it was a baby bird! If some strange flying creature flew into your fave, what would you do?
Jeff is gone. Millie is here till Thursday. I'm back at work. It's dead today because every other studio and production company has a half day, so I'm just chillin.
Still no internet at home. Hence, no blogs ever.
I got a call for a job I really want. This happened Friday. I was away from my desk, and as soon as I got the message, I called the lady back. No answer. Called all day yesterday. No answer. Today? No answer. Perhaps she is out of the office because of the holiday? Let's hope.
I also interviewed at Deal or No Deal, but haven't heard back. I would take the job if I got it, but I'm not going to cry if I don't. Also got a call from a new crossword puzzle game show. Finding a job can take time, and considering the leads and interviews I've gotten in only a few weeks, things are going pretty damn well. However, I'm also broke and need to start working. And I need insurance. I've seriously considered quitting both internships and getting a random job just to make money, but I want to continue my ties at Weinstein, especially with my wonderful boss who is responsible for most of the interviews I've gotten. I'll work a few days a week at Weinstein, quit Offspring, and get a part time job for Thurs-Sun.
Mille and Jeff came this weekend! It was lots of fun. Friday night we went to this awesome little bar in Los Feliz and met our friend Maggie. Saturday I had improv (passed! Got accepted to the next level!) and then we went to a cemetery screening. It's pretty much the coolest thing ever. They play movies on a huge screen, similar to Grant Park, only it's in the Hollywood Forever cemetery. The movie was Roman Holiday. Dani would have LOVED the whole experience.
Sunday was DISNEYLAND!!!!!! Tons of fun. Lots of pictures. We rode everything twice. Except for Finding Nemo, which was far too long of a wait. I wouldn't stand in line for 2 hours to go on a real submarine, so I sure as shit won't do it for a pretend one that doesn't even fully submerge. While we were waiting in line for Indiana Jones (my all time favorite Disney ride at any park ever), some small creature flew into my face. I kinda freaked out, you know, since something flew into my face. It then fell down my chest and got stuck in my shirt. And do you wanna know what it was???
A baby bird. An adorable little chirping birdie.
The people around me in line were pissed that I swatted at it. But I didn't know it was a baby bird! If some strange flying creature flew into your fave, what would you do?
Jeff is gone. Millie is here till Thursday. I'm back at work. It's dead today because every other studio and production company has a half day, so I'm just chillin.
Still no internet at home. Hence, no blogs ever.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Quickly
-In the grand tradition of cable companies being absolute fuck-ups, we won't have cable/internet for quite some time, and I don't have time at work to go blogging.
-Had an interview today to be the production assistant on an actual TV show. A real one. On ABC.
-Got asked today to be the temporary replacement for the assistant to two execs at Dimension Films. Take my word for it, this is a GOOD thing.
-Computer broke.
-5 days left on computer warranty. Thank GOD.
-Moved to Studio City.
-I actually might have a job soon.
-Had an interview today to be the production assistant on an actual TV show. A real one. On ABC.
-Got asked today to be the temporary replacement for the assistant to two execs at Dimension Films. Take my word for it, this is a GOOD thing.
-Computer broke.
-5 days left on computer warranty. Thank GOD.
-Moved to Studio City.
-I actually might have a job soon.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
I'm mooooooooving
The other day I went to McCambridge park and I took my notebook and some reading material. I read some of Slaughterhouse Five, The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Anderson (for a creative and professional reason, trust me), and then I pulled out my black-cover-red-star notebook that I take with me everywhere in hopes to maintain an appearance of introspectiveness. There's somewhat of a poetic irony in the fact that I go through these lengths to look pensively self-reflective only because I want to appear that way in front of others. Regardless, none of this matters because I feel like I'm rarely actually writing in that book anyway. It's an awesome book, though.
So I pulled out the "LOOK! I'm a writer!!!" book and before I knew it, I had written four full pages. I read it back and it's actually pretty funny. I want to post it in here, but I've never gotten around to it. I was going to do it right now, but it turns out that I already took that book over to the new apartment. I'm not quite sure why I've already started the "process" of moving into the new place. Especially since the "process" is putting all thirteen of my personal effects into the Focus and driving eight miles west. Whatever the reason-
Okay, fuck that. I have a feeling people would rather I talk about the new apartment, as opposed to what I wrote in my journal that I left at said apartment.
It's in Studio City. It's nice. It's a three bedroom with a balcony. The front door is a sliding glass door, but you learn to love it. I just realized we have no fridge, but we each pay $600 a month to live in Studio City so I'm not about to complain if I have to pay for a third of a miniature dorm fridge. We have a pool. It's clean looking. The lounge chairs are decidedly less pristine.
Now that the apartment situation is taken care of (well, HAVING an apartment is taking care of. Filling it with a bed, furniture, fridge, microwave, television, and everything else that apartments need is another issue entirely), I can focus on other things. Namely, job hunting. Karen has said many times she is going to help me get a job. She said last week that she's been putting her feelers out to see what the word on the street is. That's a metaphor, just so you know. She doesn't have real feelers. Well...do hand count? "I'm putting my hands out to find you a job." See, that just doesn't conjur the same vivid imagery. Either way, she said at the end of the month we're gonna sit down and have a serious talk about what it is I want to do and she's going to start really getting serious about finding me employment. So, anyone who always asls me, "Your boss says she's going to find you a job, but is she really?" It looks like she's the real deal.
I love improv class. I'm telling you right now, if I get a job that gets in the way of taking the next course at Groundlings, I'm seriously going to have to reconsider the offer. I look forward to every Saturday just like we used to look forward to weekends in middle school. I say middle school because by the time we hit high school, weekends don't matter because we'll just skip if we don't feel like going. I could go on and on about how much I love class and the stuff we do, but I don't think it makes for a good read. Also, if I say "I want to finish taking all the classes, be part of one of their stage shows, get an agent and become an actor/writer!" I'll feel incredibly stupid five years from now when I'm assistant manager at California Pizza Kitchen and decide to go back and read some of my old entries. I will say this, though. There's an old guy in my class who just informed me that every week he writes down the funny things I say in his notebook. I find that...odd. I'm also scared to mention this incident because it's quite possible that he has googled me and reads this blog.
So I pulled out the "LOOK! I'm a writer!!!" book and before I knew it, I had written four full pages. I read it back and it's actually pretty funny. I want to post it in here, but I've never gotten around to it. I was going to do it right now, but it turns out that I already took that book over to the new apartment. I'm not quite sure why I've already started the "process" of moving into the new place. Especially since the "process" is putting all thirteen of my personal effects into the Focus and driving eight miles west. Whatever the reason-
Okay, fuck that. I have a feeling people would rather I talk about the new apartment, as opposed to what I wrote in my journal that I left at said apartment.
It's in Studio City. It's nice. It's a three bedroom with a balcony. The front door is a sliding glass door, but you learn to love it. I just realized we have no fridge, but we each pay $600 a month to live in Studio City so I'm not about to complain if I have to pay for a third of a miniature dorm fridge. We have a pool. It's clean looking. The lounge chairs are decidedly less pristine.
Now that the apartment situation is taken care of (well, HAVING an apartment is taking care of. Filling it with a bed, furniture, fridge, microwave, television, and everything else that apartments need is another issue entirely), I can focus on other things. Namely, job hunting. Karen has said many times she is going to help me get a job. She said last week that she's been putting her feelers out to see what the word on the street is. That's a metaphor, just so you know. She doesn't have real feelers. Well...do hand count? "I'm putting my hands out to find you a job." See, that just doesn't conjur the same vivid imagery. Either way, she said at the end of the month we're gonna sit down and have a serious talk about what it is I want to do and she's going to start really getting serious about finding me employment. So, anyone who always asls me, "Your boss says she's going to find you a job, but is she really?" It looks like she's the real deal.
I love improv class. I'm telling you right now, if I get a job that gets in the way of taking the next course at Groundlings, I'm seriously going to have to reconsider the offer. I look forward to every Saturday just like we used to look forward to weekends in middle school. I say middle school because by the time we hit high school, weekends don't matter because we'll just skip if we don't feel like going. I could go on and on about how much I love class and the stuff we do, but I don't think it makes for a good read. Also, if I say "I want to finish taking all the classes, be part of one of their stage shows, get an agent and become an actor/writer!" I'll feel incredibly stupid five years from now when I'm assistant manager at California Pizza Kitchen and decide to go back and read some of my old entries. I will say this, though. There's an old guy in my class who just informed me that every week he writes down the funny things I say in his notebook. I find that...odd. I'm also scared to mention this incident because it's quite possible that he has googled me and reads this blog.
You're so unfunny it's not even funny.
Someone commented on my Disney chapter. Most people really seemed to enjoy part 1, but this particular reader took issue with some of my hot topics. Here are some of the best excerpts.
"...you do know EXACTLY what you would be doing. Being in QSR at the Magic Kingdom is the same as being in QSR at Port Orleans. Being in Merch at Epcot is the same as being in merch at the Contemporary.
You know more than you think. You are told everything you need."
I'm sorry, person-who-loves-Disney-so-much-that-they-scour-the-internet-and-read-random-blogs-about-it-and-feel-the-need-to-be-
defensive-after-reading-what-is-clearly-a-comedic-essay-in-which-you-completely-miss-the-point. Is it alright if I call you person-who-loves-Disney-so-much-that-they-scour-the-internet-and-read-random-blogs-about-it-and-feel-the-need-to-be-
defensive-after-reading-what-is-clearly-a-comedic-essay-in-which-you-completely-miss-the-point? First of all, it's a comedic essay. And you completely missed the point. Second of all, I don't care.
"You are told everything you need."
That's my FAVORITE quote. Kara will back me up here when I say that "You are told everything you need" is EXACTLY the kind of shit that Disney feeds you.
Good luck and I hope your attitude improves or you won't make it on the program.
Yeah, thanks for that, person-who-loves-Disney-so-much-that-they-scour-the-internet-and-read-random-blogs-about-it-and-feel-the-need-to-be-
defensive-after-reading-what-is-clearly-a-comedic-essay-in-which-you-completely-miss-the-point. But actually. I finished the program. Three years ago, as a matter of fact. And I can assure you, my attitude never changed.
"...you do know EXACTLY what you would be doing. Being in QSR at the Magic Kingdom is the same as being in QSR at Port Orleans. Being in Merch at Epcot is the same as being in merch at the Contemporary.
You know more than you think. You are told everything you need."
I'm sorry, person-who-loves-Disney-so-much-that-they-scour-the-internet-and-read-random-blogs-about-it-and-feel-the-need-to-be-
defensive-after-reading-what-is-clearly-a-comedic-essay-in-which-you-completely-miss-the-point. Is it alright if I call you person-who-loves-Disney-so-much-that-they-scour-the-internet-and-read-random-blogs-about-it-and-feel-the-need-to-be-
defensive-after-reading-what-is-clearly-a-comedic-essay-in-which-you-completely-miss-the-point? First of all, it's a comedic essay. And you completely missed the point. Second of all, I don't care.
"You are told everything you need."
That's my FAVORITE quote. Kara will back me up here when I say that "You are told everything you need" is EXACTLY the kind of shit that Disney feeds you.
Good luck and I hope your attitude improves or you won't make it on the program.
Yeah, thanks for that, person-who-loves-Disney-so-much-that-they-scour-the-internet-and-read-random-blogs-about-it-and-feel-the-need-to-be-
defensive-after-reading-what-is-clearly-a-comedic-essay-in-which-you-completely-miss-the-point. But actually. I finished the program. Three years ago, as a matter of fact. And I can assure you, my attitude never changed.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Life in LA, a summer checklist, etc.
Things I want/need to get done now that it's summer.
Oh...wait.
I'm a real person now.
I don't have vacay.
I don't hours upon hours of freetime to play outside and hang out and do whatever I please.
The rest of my life is now an endless cycle of living for the weekend.
Well...regardless. Here's my list.
-Write a spec script of 30 Rock
-Write Leper High (it's a feature length script now. My boss at Weinstein told me she'd go over it for me)
-Find an apartment (pretty hard seeing as how I need to move June 15th and every place I see is available either June 1st, July 1st, or now. So my best bet is to wait until later in the month and get one that says "available now," later.)
-Find a job. I've been sending out my resume and making a few calls, but I still have a month to go at Weinstein, so I'm not too concerned. Plus I know at least one of my bosses will help me out with this. Hey...maybe even both.
-Do more comedy. Once Flavin and other friends are out here, I plan on doing an open mic night at a comedy club.
-Get an oil change.
-Buy actual groceries and stop eating turkey sandwiches every day (once I get a job)
That seems good enough.
Life in LA is alright. I feel like this house in Burbank is sucking the life out of me. I have nothing to do any no one to talk to. I rarely feel like running or writing, which are like... my two main things. Hopefully things will change when I have my own place. Basically, my quality of life will improve once I have a TV again.
I'm too ambitious. I don't know if that's coming off as a cocky thing to say...but it's true. I drive myself crazy. I'm always worried that I'm missing out on some opportunity I don't know about, and so I am constantly obsessing over my future. Working in this industry isn't a cut and dry sort of thing. You don't start at the bottom and work your way up to writer. Since there's no clear line of promotions and job progression, there are far too many opportunities and choices for someone like me. Do I want to try to be a PA? Or work at an Agency? Or something else? I'd love to be a writer's assistant, but those are pretty hard jobs to get, so unless either of my bosses can pull some strings...I'm not holding my breath.
Do I even want to work in the industry? Is TV really my livelihood?
Answer: No. It's not. I'm starting to wonder if it ever was. I really just want to be funny. That's why I love Groundlings so much. As much as I'd love to get a job as a writer on a sitcom, I'd be even more thrilled to finish studying Improv and be a part of a troupe. Even if it doesn't pay that well. But acting and improv isn't going to pay my bills, and chances are if it ever does, that time will not be soon. Working in TV and trying to make something of myself in that capacity is a good way to pay the bills and make connections, so that one day I can get paid to be funny, whether writing or performing.
This post is dedicated to Twigger. I didn't feel like blogging, but she wanted to know how my life was. She's a sweetheart, even if she can be a pistol sometimes.
Aunt Betty
Oh...wait.
I'm a real person now.
I don't have vacay.
I don't hours upon hours of freetime to play outside and hang out and do whatever I please.
The rest of my life is now an endless cycle of living for the weekend.
Well...regardless. Here's my list.
-Write a spec script of 30 Rock
-Write Leper High (it's a feature length script now. My boss at Weinstein told me she'd go over it for me)
-Find an apartment (pretty hard seeing as how I need to move June 15th and every place I see is available either June 1st, July 1st, or now. So my best bet is to wait until later in the month and get one that says "available now," later.)
-Find a job. I've been sending out my resume and making a few calls, but I still have a month to go at Weinstein, so I'm not too concerned. Plus I know at least one of my bosses will help me out with this. Hey...maybe even both.
-Do more comedy. Once Flavin and other friends are out here, I plan on doing an open mic night at a comedy club.
-Get an oil change.
-Buy actual groceries and stop eating turkey sandwiches every day (once I get a job)
That seems good enough.
Life in LA is alright. I feel like this house in Burbank is sucking the life out of me. I have nothing to do any no one to talk to. I rarely feel like running or writing, which are like... my two main things. Hopefully things will change when I have my own place. Basically, my quality of life will improve once I have a TV again.
I'm too ambitious. I don't know if that's coming off as a cocky thing to say...but it's true. I drive myself crazy. I'm always worried that I'm missing out on some opportunity I don't know about, and so I am constantly obsessing over my future. Working in this industry isn't a cut and dry sort of thing. You don't start at the bottom and work your way up to writer. Since there's no clear line of promotions and job progression, there are far too many opportunities and choices for someone like me. Do I want to try to be a PA? Or work at an Agency? Or something else? I'd love to be a writer's assistant, but those are pretty hard jobs to get, so unless either of my bosses can pull some strings...I'm not holding my breath.
Do I even want to work in the industry? Is TV really my livelihood?
Answer: No. It's not. I'm starting to wonder if it ever was. I really just want to be funny. That's why I love Groundlings so much. As much as I'd love to get a job as a writer on a sitcom, I'd be even more thrilled to finish studying Improv and be a part of a troupe. Even if it doesn't pay that well. But acting and improv isn't going to pay my bills, and chances are if it ever does, that time will not be soon. Working in TV and trying to make something of myself in that capacity is a good way to pay the bills and make connections, so that one day I can get paid to be funny, whether writing or performing.
This post is dedicated to Twigger. I didn't feel like blogging, but she wanted to know how my life was. She's a sweetheart, even if she can be a pistol sometimes.
Aunt Betty
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Thursday, May 10, 2007
And that's how I finish college
Now, it was never a secret that I didn't exactly put forth A+ effort in my online class. Even now that it's over, I still couldn't tell you what the name of it was. (Some combination of the words "Biology, Human, and Anatomy). In fact, I'm not even exaggerating when I say that I spent more time deciding on what flavor Pop-Tarts to buy each week, than I did studying, doing assignments, or even taking tests. Case in point, tonight was the final night that the final exam was available. It's quite an inconvenience that even though we are supposed to have until midnight to take these things, I only had until 10 pm because of the time change, but I won't complain. So here I am. It's 8:30, I'm still dicking around looking at apartments and chatting on AIM, when I finally decide that this 24 page, 134 question final isn't going to half-ass itself. So I sign on, answer a few questions, and I just think to myself..."I hate this and don't want to do it."
Sure, online tests are super easy because you can read your notes and check Wikipedia.
Sure, I still had an hour and a half to do it.
Sure, I want to impress my mom.
But, well, FUCK ALL OF THAT. It was my last college final ever, and I couldn't have given a shit even if I tried. So, I did what any self-respecting soon-to-be-art-school-graduate would do. I answered D for everything. Judging by the fact that I was even getting frustrated with how long it took me to take the final when all I was doing was checking in the D box, it would be safe to assume that had I even tried to answer the questions, I would have been in a most unsavory mood.
So that's that. Sure, I don't graduate until Saturday, and I'm still interning full-time until the end of June (suuuuck), but I'm basically, almost, somewhat, maybe done with college? Now whenever I watch TV shows or movies about kids in school, I can silently think to myself "Haha, those suckers." I don't think the fact that I am a full-fledged member of the real world will hit me until I'm done at Weinstein and Offspring, though. Once I'm not working 45 hours a week for free, I'll stop considering myself a college student.
On another note, and a VERY VERY exciting one at that, I am going in for a "preliminary interview and meet & greet" with the writer's assistants for an actual TV show. This is me exercising discretion and not posting all sorts of shit that shouldn't be on the internet for all the world to see. Suffice it to say, it's a scripted show, it's on cable, and some of you may have heard of it. I'm REALLY excited because a job as a writer's assistant is NOT easy to come by. If I could actually get one...well...wow. I've been so lucky with everything since I got out here. Sometimes I can't believe it myself. I mean, do I really deserve such awesome things?
We'll see how this all pans out. If anything, I intend to at least knock everyone's socks off so that even if this show isn't hiring, they all remember me and love me and find another program for me to work on.
Oh, and I met Rosario Dawson today. That didn't seem like it needed to be kept secret.
Sure, online tests are super easy because you can read your notes and check Wikipedia.
Sure, I still had an hour and a half to do it.
Sure, I want to impress my mom.
But, well, FUCK ALL OF THAT. It was my last college final ever, and I couldn't have given a shit even if I tried. So, I did what any self-respecting soon-to-be-art-school-graduate would do. I answered D for everything. Judging by the fact that I was even getting frustrated with how long it took me to take the final when all I was doing was checking in the D box, it would be safe to assume that had I even tried to answer the questions, I would have been in a most unsavory mood.
So that's that. Sure, I don't graduate until Saturday, and I'm still interning full-time until the end of June (suuuuck), but I'm basically, almost, somewhat, maybe done with college? Now whenever I watch TV shows or movies about kids in school, I can silently think to myself "Haha, those suckers." I don't think the fact that I am a full-fledged member of the real world will hit me until I'm done at Weinstein and Offspring, though. Once I'm not working 45 hours a week for free, I'll stop considering myself a college student.
On another note, and a VERY VERY exciting one at that, I am going in for a "preliminary interview and meet & greet" with the writer's assistants for an actual TV show. This is me exercising discretion and not posting all sorts of shit that shouldn't be on the internet for all the world to see. Suffice it to say, it's a scripted show, it's on cable, and some of you may have heard of it. I'm REALLY excited because a job as a writer's assistant is NOT easy to come by. If I could actually get one...well...wow. I've been so lucky with everything since I got out here. Sometimes I can't believe it myself. I mean, do I really deserve such awesome things?
We'll see how this all pans out. If anything, I intend to at least knock everyone's socks off so that even if this show isn't hiring, they all remember me and love me and find another program for me to work on.
Oh, and I met Rosario Dawson today. That didn't seem like it needed to be kept secret.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Sunday, April 29, 2007
200 BLOGS!!
This is it! The big 200! I probably wouldn't have updated so soon after Chapter 11, but then I realized that I was at 200 and I had to do SOMETHING.
So, to celebrate 200 blogs, I've compiled some highlights. It's like one of those episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond where the writers ran out of ideas and the actors wanted to go home early, so instead of actually make an episode they just showed a bunch of clips from previous episodes.
September 20th, 2005
On an unrelated but equally relevant topic, I got an interview to work on the Jerry Springer Show. Isn't that funny? A little over a year ago I was making magic at Disney World, now I'll be working with trailer trash and mexican midgets. Well...maybe the difference between Disney and Springer isn't as big as one would think after all...
October 15th, 2005
Haha. Classy awards. In our little group, whoever does the most ridiculous things when they are drunk recieve the Classy award for the week. The first time I won was because I was still drunk at noon without ever going to bed. The second time was for not only swallowing Ashley's gum, but for drinking a 40 in plain sight on the train. Ohhh college.
November 13th, 2005
HAPPY 200th JESS! HERE'S TO 200 MORE!
I am, of course, referring to how many pounds Jess Dangles has lost since going on the South Beach diet! At this rate she might even be able to get out of bed by Christmas!
January 3rd, 2006
Maggie ate bologna off the floor and Jacob went psycho crazy and ate everything and anything. In our second adventure, Maggie took the bag from a box of wine, put it in her purse, and named it Super Tati. We shared stories about salad bars, mandarin oranges, and bringing home the bacon, all in reference to someone's vagina.
February 17th, 2006
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. 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.
February 21st, 2006
April 22nd, 2006
Is it really April 22? Seriously? No. It can't be. HP must have programmed the calender function of my computer wrong. RandomHouse has made a mistake in my tear-a-page calender. April. 22. Hardly. Just a few weeks ago I was oling up my face and hair to dress like a mechanic, in our bathroom that was covered in blood from Matt's costume. And how long ago did Jess give me the bacon tape for Christmas? Couldn't have been that long. Wasn't Dani sitting on my floor cutting out paper shapes while I played X-Men Legends II right after that?
May 20th, 2006
It was a good birthday. Jeff and Matt bought me an M&M's ice cream cake.
July 11th. 2006
Jess and I really should have a babysitter. Because we are children. We talk like children and we act like children. And alcohol only exacerbates this tendency. Perhaps I should mention the picture we took of putting our heads in the oven. Or the somersaults off of her brothers bed. Or rapping to 50 Cent and L'il Kim's "Magic Stick" at least 50 times. And let's not forget the mad libs. Walking over to her place, I knew that drunk mad libs with Dangles was going to be the icing on the cake. Unfortunately, due to the extreme amount of disgusting, volatile, racist, crude, and utterly filthy language we chose to use in said mad libs, I don't feel that this is a good place to post them.
August 8th, 2006
The most memorable OL experience so far definitely has to be when Jacob, Cam, Millie, and I watched Final Destination 3. Holy shit, what an evening that turned out to be. If you don't know why, then I guess you'll have to just wonder. It was bucknutty, to say the least. Lollapalooza was awesome. I was wondering if I would have as good of a time this year as I did last year. I most definitely did. even though I wasn't nearly as excited about the line-up, there were tons of bands that blew me away.
September 16th, 2006
Thanks to Baggy, and the fact that I happened to be friends with his new boss, I managed to snag a job as an office assistant at Student Affairs. It's pretty laid back and there's even time to do homework, so it's hard to complain about the work situation.
October 31st, 2006
Highlights-
-Jess Dangles spanking me with her whip and yelling "This is what slavery is like!"
-Maggie doing yoga in the middle of a party
-Elroy humping Wenda
-Going up to every single person I encountered that night and saying "I didn't know you were coming tonight!" over and over and over.
-Stealing a pumpkin decoration from Clark's
-Kicking a hole in someone's iPod costume
-Finding a Spiderman mask and telling Maggie to put it on. She did.
-This:
I REFUSED to get off of that tire until somebody took my picture. Luckily Kate jumped up and joined me, otherwise this moment would have been long forgotten.
-Stepping on a girls foot and getting punched
-Getting inexplicably mad at someone dressed as the game Twister and telling everyone at the burrito place how much they sucked
-Trying to piss off every stranger I met
-Giving the Mexican guy at the burrito place 20 dollars for change and him walking away, then coming back acting like I never gave him a 20.
-Shielding Maggie while she pee'd in a doorway right on the corner of Halsted and Belmont -The plethora of stupid things we did but I will never remember.
January 1st, 2007
Happy New Year! Jesus take the wheel!
January 12th, 2007
The run.
It's weird that everything I've been working on for the past four months is over. The entire trip to Disney was incredible. I had an absolutely amazing time. It was the single most rewarding experience of my life, and hopefully I can convince at least one other person to do it next year. (No, not just go to Florida, but raise the money and train. If I can find the time, anyone can.)
January 30th, 2007
Things I hate at the moment:
Being sick because of the incident on Friday in which I had to make sure drunk Kara got home safe, as she continued to fall down, get in cars with strangers, piss people off, make out with old men, and or just plain refuse to keep walking. It was not unlike The Canterbury Tales.
February 12th, 2007
I’m excited to be moving on with my life and to try new things. I’m finally going to pursue what I’ve wanted to do all my life, and it’s exciting. I wish everyone actually could come with. In a physical sense, not just some cheesy sentimental blog post way. But at the same time, I love the fact that I have friends all over the world. And I know that all the people who are important to me will not be leaving my life any time soon.
March 4th, 2007
I'm really enjoying myself out here. A lot. I know that a lot of that has to do with the fact that it's barely been a week and I'm still in the honeymoon phase, and that soon the novelty of going to class at CBS Studios will wear off and I'll start to miss Chicago and everyone back there. And I'll of course find ways to make myself miserable like always. I have friends out here, which is good. I saw Rob last night, and I'm friends with the neighbors and with a bunch of people from class, but I just don't see myself meeting another group like the gang back in Chicago. Don't cry for me, though. I'm having the time of my life.
April 13th, 2007
I just want to reiterate the fact that I hate LA and I'm miserable. Not because I want sympathy. Not because I want to go home. Not because I'm lying. But because I want to look back on this part of my life in five years, whether I'm still in California and loving it, or back in Chicago, or selling tea-cozies made out of horse fur in Shipshewana, and remember how much I hate life right now. Because then I'll think to myself "Well, I'm so happy with where I am today, and I know that I'm a better, stronger, and faster(rule of three, every comic's best friend) because of hitting that low point.
So, to celebrate 200 blogs, I've compiled some highlights. It's like one of those episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond where the writers ran out of ideas and the actors wanted to go home early, so instead of actually make an episode they just showed a bunch of clips from previous episodes.
September 20th, 2005
On an unrelated but equally relevant topic, I got an interview to work on the Jerry Springer Show. Isn't that funny? A little over a year ago I was making magic at Disney World, now I'll be working with trailer trash and mexican midgets. Well...maybe the difference between Disney and Springer isn't as big as one would think after all...
October 15th, 2005
Haha. Classy awards. In our little group, whoever does the most ridiculous things when they are drunk recieve the Classy award for the week. The first time I won was because I was still drunk at noon without ever going to bed. The second time was for not only swallowing Ashley's gum, but for drinking a 40 in plain sight on the train. Ohhh college.
November 13th, 2005
HAPPY 200th JESS! HERE'S TO 200 MORE!
I am, of course, referring to how many pounds Jess Dangles has lost since going on the South Beach diet! At this rate she might even be able to get out of bed by Christmas!
January 3rd, 2006
Maggie ate bologna off the floor and Jacob went psycho crazy and ate everything and anything. In our second adventure, Maggie took the bag from a box of wine, put it in her purse, and named it Super Tati. We shared stories about salad bars, mandarin oranges, and bringing home the bacon, all in reference to someone's vagina.
February 17th, 2006
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. 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.
February 21st, 2006
April 22nd, 2006
Is it really April 22? Seriously? No. It can't be. HP must have programmed the calender function of my computer wrong. RandomHouse has made a mistake in my tear-a-page calender. April. 22. Hardly. Just a few weeks ago I was oling up my face and hair to dress like a mechanic, in our bathroom that was covered in blood from Matt's costume. And how long ago did Jess give me the bacon tape for Christmas? Couldn't have been that long. Wasn't Dani sitting on my floor cutting out paper shapes while I played X-Men Legends II right after that?
May 20th, 2006
It was a good birthday. Jeff and Matt bought me an M&M's ice cream cake.
July 11th. 2006
Jess and I really should have a babysitter. Because we are children. We talk like children and we act like children. And alcohol only exacerbates this tendency. Perhaps I should mention the picture we took of putting our heads in the oven. Or the somersaults off of her brothers bed. Or rapping to 50 Cent and L'il Kim's "Magic Stick" at least 50 times. And let's not forget the mad libs. Walking over to her place, I knew that drunk mad libs with Dangles was going to be the icing on the cake. Unfortunately, due to the extreme amount of disgusting, volatile, racist, crude, and utterly filthy language we chose to use in said mad libs, I don't feel that this is a good place to post them.
August 8th, 2006
The most memorable OL experience so far definitely has to be when Jacob, Cam, Millie, and I watched Final Destination 3. Holy shit, what an evening that turned out to be. If you don't know why, then I guess you'll have to just wonder. It was bucknutty, to say the least. Lollapalooza was awesome. I was wondering if I would have as good of a time this year as I did last year. I most definitely did. even though I wasn't nearly as excited about the line-up, there were tons of bands that blew me away.
September 16th, 2006
Thanks to Baggy, and the fact that I happened to be friends with his new boss, I managed to snag a job as an office assistant at Student Affairs. It's pretty laid back and there's even time to do homework, so it's hard to complain about the work situation.
October 31st, 2006
Highlights-
-Jess Dangles spanking me with her whip and yelling "This is what slavery is like!"
-Maggie doing yoga in the middle of a party
-Elroy humping Wenda
-Going up to every single person I encountered that night and saying "I didn't know you were coming tonight!" over and over and over.
-Stealing a pumpkin decoration from Clark's
-Kicking a hole in someone's iPod costume
-Finding a Spiderman mask and telling Maggie to put it on. She did.
-This:
I REFUSED to get off of that tire until somebody took my picture. Luckily Kate jumped up and joined me, otherwise this moment would have been long forgotten. -Stepping on a girls foot and getting punched
-Getting inexplicably mad at someone dressed as the game Twister and telling everyone at the burrito place how much they sucked
-Trying to piss off every stranger I met
-Giving the Mexican guy at the burrito place 20 dollars for change and him walking away, then coming back acting like I never gave him a 20.
-Shielding Maggie while she pee'd in a doorway right on the corner of Halsted and Belmont -The plethora of stupid things we did but I will never remember.
January 1st, 2007
Happy New Year! Jesus take the wheel!
January 12th, 2007
The run.
It's weird that everything I've been working on for the past four months is over. The entire trip to Disney was incredible. I had an absolutely amazing time. It was the single most rewarding experience of my life, and hopefully I can convince at least one other person to do it next year. (No, not just go to Florida, but raise the money and train. If I can find the time, anyone can.)
January 30th, 2007
Things I hate at the moment:
Being sick because of the incident on Friday in which I had to make sure drunk Kara got home safe, as she continued to fall down, get in cars with strangers, piss people off, make out with old men, and or just plain refuse to keep walking. It was not unlike The Canterbury Tales.
February 12th, 2007
I’m excited to be moving on with my life and to try new things. I’m finally going to pursue what I’ve wanted to do all my life, and it’s exciting. I wish everyone actually could come with. In a physical sense, not just some cheesy sentimental blog post way. But at the same time, I love the fact that I have friends all over the world. And I know that all the people who are important to me will not be leaving my life any time soon.
March 4th, 2007
I'm really enjoying myself out here. A lot. I know that a lot of that has to do with the fact that it's barely been a week and I'm still in the honeymoon phase, and that soon the novelty of going to class at CBS Studios will wear off and I'll start to miss Chicago and everyone back there. And I'll of course find ways to make myself miserable like always. I have friends out here, which is good. I saw Rob last night, and I'm friends with the neighbors and with a bunch of people from class, but I just don't see myself meeting another group like the gang back in Chicago. Don't cry for me, though. I'm having the time of my life.
April 13th, 2007
I just want to reiterate the fact that I hate LA and I'm miserable. Not because I want sympathy. Not because I want to go home. Not because I'm lying. But because I want to look back on this part of my life in five years, whether I'm still in California and loving it, or back in Chicago, or selling tea-cozies made out of horse fur in Shipshewana, and remember how much I hate life right now. Because then I'll think to myself "Well, I'm so happy with where I am today, and I know that I'm a better, stronger, and faster(rule of three, every comic's best friend) because of hitting that low point.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Chapter 11: Part One: If You Don't Put Out That Cigarette I'm Moving To Disney World
This was the hardest chapter for me to write, by far. Have you ever cut yourself (not on purpose, you morbid freak) and then as soon as the wound started to heal, you just decided to take a pen, stab the wound, tear it open, and pour a carton of Morton Salt into it? That's kind of what reliving the Disney College Program is like. Okay, no. Not really. The College Program wasn't the worst thing that ever happened to me. It didn't degrade me, destroy my character, and spit me out as a hollow shell of what I used to be. Although, at times I definitely thought it would. It's hard to write about this experience because there's just so much that needs to be explained, and I don't know where to start. If Best Buy had two parts, then how many would the epic Disney tale take to unfold?
Let's just start the story already, and see where it takes us, shall we?
During my Freshman year at Western, my friend Alicia and I both interviewed for the Walt Disney World College Program. We were on our way back from our bi-weekly trip to the Rec Center (one of the few times we actually went, instead of just going to her place to get high, play The Sims, and half-heartedly convince ourselves that we were going to use the ab-roller) when we saw a flyer for an information meeting. I'm not quite sure how the conversation went, other than it segued to Alicia telling me I needed to find a girl to give me head, but all that really matters for the sake of this story is that we decided to go to the meeting and set up interviews. Flash forward a few weeks later, and both Alicia and I had gotten offers to go to Florida to work Quick Service Food & Beverage. And that is when I learned...
LESSON NUMBER 1: YOU ARE NOT THE PRIVIEST PRINCESS
Disney made sure that we got as little information as possible about most things. If you don't know a lot of what's going on, then you can't complain about it. It's kind of a subdued tactic that they employ in order to keep "cast members" in control. In this case, you were only given your specific "role" and program start date. You were not told where you would be working or exactly what you'd be doing. You could get offered a job in Operations and you could end up working Pirates of the Caribbean. Or, you could end up waving lightsabre-like wands and directing the trams in the parking lot. Which would you rather do? In this case, all Alicia and I knew was that we would be serving food and/or beverage in a quick manner. Now, regardless of whether it's a turkey leg cart, Pinocchio's kitchen, or McDonald's in DinoLand USA, leaving college halfway through your Freshman year to work Quick Service Food and Beverage didn't really seem...you know...applicable to my life goals. Even though I wasn't quite sure what my life goals were at the time, I had the utmost certainty it didn't involve stocking condiment bars and hawking overpriced popcorn in collectible buckets. Alicia and I both declined the offers, and never really thought about it again.
"Role?" "Cast Member?" You're probably wondering if this was a full time job or a high school production of "Crazy For You." Before we go any further, let's get through...
LESSON NUMBER 2: YEAR OF A MILLION DREAMS, LAND OF A MILLION EUPHEMISMS
Here's a quick rundown of the Disney lingo.
"Cast Members" are employees.
Your "Role" is your job.
"Showkeepers" are the janitors.
"Guests" are customers.
"On stage" is anywhere that guests can go.
"Back stage" is an employees-only area
"Bad show" is when you are breaking one of the many guidelines to the "Disney Look" such as your earrings being larger than a quarter, your sideburns being too long, having a goatee, wearing too many rings, sunglasses where a guest can't see your eyes, or wearing white socks with black shoes (or even worse! black shoes with shorts!)
A "Disney Point" is the only way that you can direct a guest. You always point with two fingers, not one.
Now that you understand the fundamentals (and aren't they truly the building blocks of fun?) we can get back to the story. Alicia and I declined the jobs.
"But wait! Steve! Surely this chapter can't be over already!!!"
Not by a long shot, proverbial reader whom I just quoted in order to make a point and try a new literary device. The story is just beginning. Flash forward (again) to one year later. I hated life in Kalamazoo. Mostly, I just hated my roommates. They smoked cigarettes in the house. Once again, Disney was in town recruiting. Alicia backed out on me this time, but I still went to the interview. Somehow, I managed to get offered an even better position. I was asked to be a "Role Hopper." This meant that I got to be trained in all lines of business and "hop" (not literally. I have a bad knee) to different locations. I found out soon enough that all Role Hoppers worked at Epcot, and that they were affectionately named the Rescue Rangers. Cute, huh? Like I said, land of euphemisms. Impressionable young adults aren't going to say goodbye to their entire life and move to Florida to work 40 hours a week for 6 bucks an hour if they're called "everybody's bitch," but they certainly won't hesitate to be a "Rescue Ranger."
I had gotten a pretty sweet job offer. Way better than Quick Service Food and Beverage. Way better than practically every other job that the College Program offered. But now came the hard part. Committing. Did I actually want to do this? Sure, interviewing and seeing if you can get a job is all fine and good, but when it comes down to actually packing your bags, saying goodbye, and moving thousands of miles away all by yourself, it takes quite a bit of thinking. And thinking is exactly what I did. A lot of it. I had two weeks to accept or decline the offer...
..and I decided not to do it. It didn't seem worth it. I was transferring to Columbia after sophomore year. This would mean I would be cutting my days as a Bronco even shorter, and I didn't want to leave my friends any sooner than I had to. So, like every other momentous occasion in my life, I waited until the exact last moment possible make a commitment. Literally, the last moment. I was home for Thanksgiving break, and my parents had gone to bed at about 10:00. We had a lengthy discussion and I stuck by my conclusion that Disney wasn't for me. Sure, it seemed like fun, but what was I really going to get out of it? Was it really worth leaving my friends and family, and falling behind in school? Nope. We all broke into song and belted out "It's Your Thing" by the Isley Brothers, and that was that. I was staying at Western for another semester.
It was all but official. I wasn't going to participate in the Walt Disney World College Program.
Then, at 11:55 pm, 5 minutes before the deadline...I accepted the position.
LESSON NUMBER 3: I THINK I'M INDECISIVE. AREN'T I? OR NO?
Why did I accept all of the sudden? I don't know. What changed my mind? Hard to say. I got online and started checking out websites and message boards about the program, and something inside me just clicked. What's strange is that most of the websites and message boards that I visited were condemning the College Program. They were telling me NOT to do it. But, sometimes you just have to go against the grain. I often do things just because people tell me not to. I'm erratic that way. I mean, living in an apartment in Orlando with people from all over the country, working at the "Happiest Place on Earth," getting a serious tan...what could be better?
The next morning, I told my mom that I changed my mind, and that I accepted the job.
She said "good!"
And so that's how it happened. I suppose this isn't so much a part of the Disney story as it is an extremely long and drawn out (but still entertaining, so fuck you) prologue.
In retrospect, I could have just asked my roommates to stop smoking in the house. Instead, I moved to Florida.
Let's just start the story already, and see where it takes us, shall we?
During my Freshman year at Western, my friend Alicia and I both interviewed for the Walt Disney World College Program. We were on our way back from our bi-weekly trip to the Rec Center (one of the few times we actually went, instead of just going to her place to get high, play The Sims, and half-heartedly convince ourselves that we were going to use the ab-roller) when we saw a flyer for an information meeting. I'm not quite sure how the conversation went, other than it segued to Alicia telling me I needed to find a girl to give me head, but all that really matters for the sake of this story is that we decided to go to the meeting and set up interviews. Flash forward a few weeks later, and both Alicia and I had gotten offers to go to Florida to work Quick Service Food & Beverage. And that is when I learned...
LESSON NUMBER 1: YOU ARE NOT THE PRIVIEST PRINCESS
Disney made sure that we got as little information as possible about most things. If you don't know a lot of what's going on, then you can't complain about it. It's kind of a subdued tactic that they employ in order to keep "cast members" in control. In this case, you were only given your specific "role" and program start date. You were not told where you would be working or exactly what you'd be doing. You could get offered a job in Operations and you could end up working Pirates of the Caribbean. Or, you could end up waving lightsabre-like wands and directing the trams in the parking lot. Which would you rather do? In this case, all Alicia and I knew was that we would be serving food and/or beverage in a quick manner. Now, regardless of whether it's a turkey leg cart, Pinocchio's kitchen, or McDonald's in DinoLand USA, leaving college halfway through your Freshman year to work Quick Service Food and Beverage didn't really seem...you know...applicable to my life goals. Even though I wasn't quite sure what my life goals were at the time, I had the utmost certainty it didn't involve stocking condiment bars and hawking overpriced popcorn in collectible buckets. Alicia and I both declined the offers, and never really thought about it again.
"Role?" "Cast Member?" You're probably wondering if this was a full time job or a high school production of "Crazy For You." Before we go any further, let's get through...
LESSON NUMBER 2: YEAR OF A MILLION DREAMS, LAND OF A MILLION EUPHEMISMS
Here's a quick rundown of the Disney lingo.
"Cast Members" are employees.
Your "Role" is your job.
"Showkeepers" are the janitors.
"Guests" are customers.
"On stage" is anywhere that guests can go.
"Back stage" is an employees-only area
"Bad show" is when you are breaking one of the many guidelines to the "Disney Look" such as your earrings being larger than a quarter, your sideburns being too long, having a goatee, wearing too many rings, sunglasses where a guest can't see your eyes, or wearing white socks with black shoes (or even worse! black shoes with shorts!)
A "Disney Point" is the only way that you can direct a guest. You always point with two fingers, not one.
Now that you understand the fundamentals (and aren't they truly the building blocks of fun?) we can get back to the story. Alicia and I declined the jobs.
"But wait! Steve! Surely this chapter can't be over already!!!"
Not by a long shot, proverbial reader whom I just quoted in order to make a point and try a new literary device. The story is just beginning. Flash forward (again) to one year later. I hated life in Kalamazoo. Mostly, I just hated my roommates. They smoked cigarettes in the house. Once again, Disney was in town recruiting. Alicia backed out on me this time, but I still went to the interview. Somehow, I managed to get offered an even better position. I was asked to be a "Role Hopper." This meant that I got to be trained in all lines of business and "hop" (not literally. I have a bad knee) to different locations. I found out soon enough that all Role Hoppers worked at Epcot, and that they were affectionately named the Rescue Rangers. Cute, huh? Like I said, land of euphemisms. Impressionable young adults aren't going to say goodbye to their entire life and move to Florida to work 40 hours a week for 6 bucks an hour if they're called "everybody's bitch," but they certainly won't hesitate to be a "Rescue Ranger."
I had gotten a pretty sweet job offer. Way better than Quick Service Food and Beverage. Way better than practically every other job that the College Program offered. But now came the hard part. Committing. Did I actually want to do this? Sure, interviewing and seeing if you can get a job is all fine and good, but when it comes down to actually packing your bags, saying goodbye, and moving thousands of miles away all by yourself, it takes quite a bit of thinking. And thinking is exactly what I did. A lot of it. I had two weeks to accept or decline the offer...
..and I decided not to do it. It didn't seem worth it. I was transferring to Columbia after sophomore year. This would mean I would be cutting my days as a Bronco even shorter, and I didn't want to leave my friends any sooner than I had to. So, like every other momentous occasion in my life, I waited until the exact last moment possible make a commitment. Literally, the last moment. I was home for Thanksgiving break, and my parents had gone to bed at about 10:00. We had a lengthy discussion and I stuck by my conclusion that Disney wasn't for me. Sure, it seemed like fun, but what was I really going to get out of it? Was it really worth leaving my friends and family, and falling behind in school? Nope. We all broke into song and belted out "It's Your Thing" by the Isley Brothers, and that was that. I was staying at Western for another semester.
It was all but official. I wasn't going to participate in the Walt Disney World College Program.
Then, at 11:55 pm, 5 minutes before the deadline...I accepted the position.
LESSON NUMBER 3: I THINK I'M INDECISIVE. AREN'T I? OR NO?
Why did I accept all of the sudden? I don't know. What changed my mind? Hard to say. I got online and started checking out websites and message boards about the program, and something inside me just clicked. What's strange is that most of the websites and message boards that I visited were condemning the College Program. They were telling me NOT to do it. But, sometimes you just have to go against the grain. I often do things just because people tell me not to. I'm erratic that way. I mean, living in an apartment in Orlando with people from all over the country, working at the "Happiest Place on Earth," getting a serious tan...what could be better?
The next morning, I told my mom that I changed my mind, and that I accepted the job.
She said "good!"
And so that's how it happened. I suppose this isn't so much a part of the Disney story as it is an extremely long and drawn out (but still entertaining, so fuck you) prologue.
In retrospect, I could have just asked my roommates to stop smoking in the house. Instead, I moved to Florida.
An announcement
I'm going to China in the summer of 2008. This means that as soon as I get a real job, I am going to be doing some hardcore saving. This also means that aside from the trip to Florida for next year's marathon and trips home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, I won't be traveling anywhere else. This means that the odds of me making another trip to Chicago between next month and the Summer of 2008 are less than slim.
But...I'm REALLY excited for China!
But...I'm REALLY excited for China!
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Pledge
So it's Earth Day and I was listening to talk radio on my way back from San Diego this morning. (Yeah, it's 5am, I got 3 hours of sleep, it's still dark and I can barely keep my eyes open, but TALK RADIO seemed like a good stimulant). They had on people talking about doing our part to be environmentally conscious and all that. I decided that I was going to go green and start taking the train or bus to work.
Then I found out that while there are various rail and bus routes that can get me to The Weinstein Co, the shortest one would take an hour and a half. Granted, it already takes me fifty minutes to drive to work in the morning, but to take the bus I would need to get up at 7 am, and I wouldn't get home until 9:30 pm. Then, I thought "oh, well maybe I'll take do this once a week, that's still doing my part!" But being realistic, I don't think I'll be able to handle that kind of commute even once a week. But then again, my original plan for Semester in LA was to live in Huntington Beach, and that would have been like a two hour commute...
So, I cannot pledge to take public transportation every day, and I highly doubt I could manage to take it even once a week. But, I do pledge to make an effort to occasionally take the bus or train to work or class.
Then I found out that while there are various rail and bus routes that can get me to The Weinstein Co, the shortest one would take an hour and a half. Granted, it already takes me fifty minutes to drive to work in the morning, but to take the bus I would need to get up at 7 am, and I wouldn't get home until 9:30 pm. Then, I thought "oh, well maybe I'll take do this once a week, that's still doing my part!" But being realistic, I don't think I'll be able to handle that kind of commute even once a week. But then again, my original plan for Semester in LA was to live in Huntington Beach, and that would have been like a two hour commute...
So, I cannot pledge to take public transportation every day, and I highly doubt I could manage to take it even once a week. But, I do pledge to make an effort to occasionally take the bus or train to work or class.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Let's twist again
I just got back from a little run and I'm getting ready to go to San Diego, but I'm kind of scared to go to my car. It's the only one parked in the parking lot, and while the area is safe and my car is literally next to a Kindercare-type establishment, it is the only care in the parking lot, and there just happens to be a crazy old asian man standing in the middle of the lot shaking his hips.
Yeeeeaaaahhhh....
Yeeeeaaaahhhh....
Something new for a change
I feel like I haven't really experienced much here. This thought occurred to me when pulled out my digital camera and realized I haven't taken a single picture in over a month. Once again, I blame it on the fact that I have no one to go places with. Once Flavin is out here, I promise you pix aplenty. But for now...anyone wishing I'd stop writing blogs that alternate between "I LOVE IT!" and "I HATE IT!" and want some juicy Hollywood bullshit, here you go.
-I stood in line in front of Marisa's little sister from The OC at Pinkberry.
-I walk down a street they use for Brothers & Sisters every day.
-I delivered a script to someone who is apparently very important at Disney. I had to go into this immaculate building. Even though I'm interning on the lot and have every right to be there, I still felt underdressed, because this place (it's called Team Disney) is gigantic, pristine, and intimidating. The pillars of the building are carved into the shape of the seven dwarves, and you can always tell which couriers haven't been on the lot before, because they stand in the parking lot taking cell phone pictures of it. Anyway, you walk in, and you're absolutely convinced that everybody is looking at you because you're wearing a black zip-up hooded sweatshirt and sneakers. Even though the important guy you're delivering to isn't dressed up either, the entire office gives off the distinct impression that they don't want you there and that you suck at life. It also smells like the Pirates of the Carribbean ride, for some reason.
- My friend Cam from Columbia is in San Diego this weekend, so I'm planning on driving down there tomorrow after Improv and spending the night. I'm excited because not only do I get to see a friend, but I get to go do something fun and California-like.
- The homeless people in LA are 300000 times crazier than the ones in Chicago. Fortunately, Weinstein is in an upscale neighborhood and Offspring is in Burbank, so I never really get to see them except when I'm driving up La Brea to get home. They're never out in the morning, it seems.
- Britney Spears has been rehearsing at a studio not to far from where I live.
- I have been putting off any sort of scriptwriting for far too long, so before I go to bed I'm going to finish an outline for 30 Rock and write a five page sketch that will end up not being funny.
There. See? My life in LA is slightly more fun than I let on. I think once I get a solid group of friends and have stuff to do, I surely won't mind living out here as much. I think I'm going to make some good friends in Improv, and the other interns start at Weinstein in a few weeks, so I'm crossing my fingers that pretty soon I'll have stories and pictures to share.
-I stood in line in front of Marisa's little sister from The OC at Pinkberry.
-I walk down a street they use for Brothers & Sisters every day.
-I delivered a script to someone who is apparently very important at Disney. I had to go into this immaculate building. Even though I'm interning on the lot and have every right to be there, I still felt underdressed, because this place (it's called Team Disney) is gigantic, pristine, and intimidating. The pillars of the building are carved into the shape of the seven dwarves, and you can always tell which couriers haven't been on the lot before, because they stand in the parking lot taking cell phone pictures of it. Anyway, you walk in, and you're absolutely convinced that everybody is looking at you because you're wearing a black zip-up hooded sweatshirt and sneakers. Even though the important guy you're delivering to isn't dressed up either, the entire office gives off the distinct impression that they don't want you there and that you suck at life. It also smells like the Pirates of the Carribbean ride, for some reason.
- My friend Cam from Columbia is in San Diego this weekend, so I'm planning on driving down there tomorrow after Improv and spending the night. I'm excited because not only do I get to see a friend, but I get to go do something fun and California-like.
- The homeless people in LA are 300000 times crazier than the ones in Chicago. Fortunately, Weinstein is in an upscale neighborhood and Offspring is in Burbank, so I never really get to see them except when I'm driving up La Brea to get home. They're never out in the morning, it seems.
- Britney Spears has been rehearsing at a studio not to far from where I live.
- I have been putting off any sort of scriptwriting for far too long, so before I go to bed I'm going to finish an outline for 30 Rock and write a five page sketch that will end up not being funny.
There. See? My life in LA is slightly more fun than I let on. I think once I get a solid group of friends and have stuff to do, I surely won't mind living out here as much. I think I'm going to make some good friends in Improv, and the other interns start at Weinstein in a few weeks, so I'm crossing my fingers that pretty soon I'll have stories and pictures to share.
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