Friday, February 29, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
the parking lot attendant must love me
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Cross My Heart, Hope To Die..Metal Shavings In My Eye
Phase 8) I park at the Emergency room and get out of the car. I take the paper away from my eye. By some miracle it feels better. Much better. I must have finally flushed the metal out. It's still red and puffy and tender, but at least the iron shavings came out. Since I'm no longer in that much pain, I change my mind and don't go inside the hospital.
Phase 7) I leave early. Holding a cold wet paper towel over my left eye, I try my best to drive (1. In traffic. 2. With no depth perception. 3. In the rain. 4. In MAJOR pain.) to the emergency room. Because it's rush hour, it takes about a half hour to get there, even though it's barely ten miles, if that.
Phase 6) Throughout the day my eye gets redder and redder, more and more painful, and even starts to look swollen. People tell me I should go to the doctor. At this point I'm well aware that I have gotten metal shavings in my eye. It hurts like a bitch.
Phase 5) My eye quickly because red again, and rather painful this time. I take the contact out.
Phase 4) Apparently didn't wash my hands good enough.
Phase 3) I'm ready to put my contact back in, so I wash my hands thoroughly (I've been playing with metal dust, so I feel it most necessary to proceed into my eyeball with caution).
Phase 2) In the meantime, I have been working on a project for my boss that involves magnets and those little metal shavings that you can get from the science store.
Phase 1) On Thursday morning, people at work point out that my left eye is very red. It doesn't hurt or bother me, and this happens on occasion to my left eye, so I don't think much of it. I take out my contact, put in some drops, and a few hours later my eye is back to normal.
Phase 7) I leave early. Holding a cold wet paper towel over my left eye, I try my best to drive (1. In traffic. 2. With no depth perception. 3. In the rain. 4. In MAJOR pain.) to the emergency room. Because it's rush hour, it takes about a half hour to get there, even though it's barely ten miles, if that.
Phase 6) Throughout the day my eye gets redder and redder, more and more painful, and even starts to look swollen. People tell me I should go to the doctor. At this point I'm well aware that I have gotten metal shavings in my eye. It hurts like a bitch.
Phase 5) My eye quickly because red again, and rather painful this time. I take the contact out.
Phase 4) Apparently didn't wash my hands good enough.
Phase 3) I'm ready to put my contact back in, so I wash my hands thoroughly (I've been playing with metal dust, so I feel it most necessary to proceed into my eyeball with caution).
Phase 2) In the meantime, I have been working on a project for my boss that involves magnets and those little metal shavings that you can get from the science store.
Phase 1) On Thursday morning, people at work point out that my left eye is very red. It doesn't hurt or bother me, and this happens on occasion to my left eye, so I don't think much of it. I take out my contact, put in some drops, and a few hours later my eye is back to normal.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Bonus points if it happened on genitals!
KIIS FM is having people call in to share embarrassing and funny puke stories. If you live in Southern California and want to pseudo-anonymously share yours with the world, now is your chance!
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Try To Catch Me Ridin' Dirty.
I take the 101 on my way back from work every day. I wouldn't so much say it's a "commute" as I'd say it's a bunch of people sitting in a linear parking lot with their cars facing home. Because of my inability to drive slower than five miles per hour for more than a mile (that's twelve minutes, for those playing along at home), I often get off at Ventura, and take that home. The exit ramp, for some reason, has a sidewalk. My guess is it's for the people who abandon their cars forever when the god-forsaken traffic finally gets the best of them. Anyway, there is also a large interstate sign that comes off of the wall of the exit and hangs onto the freeway.
...confession time. I wrote that about four days ago and I can't for the life of me remember where I was going with that. Regardless, I might as well keep it at this point.
I got sidetracked from finishing this post, and from writing on this thing altogether, because there's a lot going on. I hate that I only come on here to talk about what I'm doing with my life. I find that boring. I want to tell funny stories, brimming with irreverence and sardonic wit. Unfortunately, that can't happen anymore. I'm afraid that while my sardonic wit is still intact, everything I do is completely relevant to everything going on in the world, and therefore I can no longer tell lighthearted anecdotes. I'm far too serious and important.
No. I'm serious.
Annnnnnyway, I feel I should do something educational for Presidents Day. I have the day off (by the way, the absolute best part about jobs in the "real world" are having a three day weekend every month for these bullshit holidays), and I think that it is my civil and social responsibility to take time out of my day to learn a little something about our great nation's history. I could sit here and speak ambitiously of going to a museum, or buying a hardcover book, or watching History Channel all day, but a big enough part of me is plenty aware than I'll google Abraham Lincoln, get distracted by Scrabulous, and call it a day.
I have to get up at 6 am tomorrow for training. I'm running in the San Diego Rock N' Roll Marathon with Team In Training, and raising $5,000 for Leukemia and Lymphoma Research. That is 1,001 more dollars and 13.1 more miles than I did for Disney. See, the great thing about this is since I know for a fact I'm doing something really really good, not only for my body but for society as a whole, I feel that it is the end-all-be-all of excuses. I'll eat five Snicker's bars for lunch. Doesn't matter...I ran four miles that day. I can be late for work. I'm training for a marathon. I can say whatever I want no matter how offensive it is, because karma has my back since I'm raising all this money. In my mind, every dollar I raise provides me with a free pass to make fun of AIDS, the holocaust, rape, incest, domestic abuse, and most of all...incestuous rape of AIDS victims during the holocaust and beating them after. What, is that distasteful? Fuck off, I'm running a marathon for cancer.
Feel free to donate to the cause...this is my website.
http://www.active.com/donate/tntgla/SSzlaga
It's pretty stellar that I'm past $500 and haven't even started my letter writing campaign yet. My boss actually donated $100, which is brilliant.
Wait...did I didn't mention dead babies in things I'm allowed to make fun of. I'm still entitled to a SIDS joke.
So yes, fundraising and training is going to be taking up a lot of my time, but it's definitely worth it. Even if it does mean getting up to run at 7am on a Saturday with that is 90% women who say "you go girl!" after someone walks one mile. Last year I didn't run with the team at all, and I really don't want to do this all alone when I paid a good $50 registration fee to have trained athletes yell at me to keep running. They don't really yell, though. Kind of a bummer. I think I'd be good at boot camp. I respond to negativity and insults surprisingly well. People think that I'd be terrible because I have such a bad attitude I'd get pissed and leave, but I believe that it would be the opposite. I'd work extra hard to prove myself as the best person there, and even though my drill sergeant and I get off to a bumpy start through a series of comical mishaps and false impressions, I'd melt his heart in the end with my thick skin and sticktoitivness. I forgot what I was talking about.
Besides the running, I'm also keeping busy with writing (especially right now. How the fuck am I still talking?!). I've completed a rough treatment of my script and I have to admit, I never expected to get as attached to this project as I am. It honestly started off as a throw-away joke, then for some reason struck me as a funny idea to do a school assignment on, and now almost three years later I am legitimately writing it for a legitimate reason involving legitimate people. Crazy. I'm also doing a lot of stuff for my comedy writing class at Groundlings. Sometimes I think my teacher is more than a little out there, but she is hilarious and fantastic and nice and worked on some pretty funny sitcoms, so the flightiness just makes the whole experience even brighter. Especially when she sang a little ditty to me about how my friends are going to need treatment for alcohol abuse when I told a rather tawdry story about some of my less savory college days. And no, Twigger. It wasn't you. But yeah. She broke out into song. That just doesn't happen enough these days.
I want a girlfriend. I'm only now realizing how much I really blew it in that department in Chicago. I knew tons and tons and tons of people and can't say I was exactly oblivious to several missed opportunities, but I think I was just too driven to even think about relationships. I knew that my time in Chicago was going to come to an end eventually, and I had severe tunnel vision in terms of graduating, moving to LA, and getting a job. I've done all three of those things, and now I'm ready, but the issue now is that I know a total of about seven people in Los Angeles. There is one chick that I kind of dig ("chick that I dig..." yeah, that's the best I could come up with) and she IS single, so I should probably grow the balls, ignore the voice that lives in the back of my mind that tells me I'd make a terrible boyfriend and that no girls like me or ever will, and just go for it.
This was a pretty long post I shat out. I'll send a postcard to anyone who made it all the way to the end. Just post a comment with the words "Chevy Corsica" and I'll know you made it through.
...confession time. I wrote that about four days ago and I can't for the life of me remember where I was going with that. Regardless, I might as well keep it at this point.
I got sidetracked from finishing this post, and from writing on this thing altogether, because there's a lot going on. I hate that I only come on here to talk about what I'm doing with my life. I find that boring. I want to tell funny stories, brimming with irreverence and sardonic wit. Unfortunately, that can't happen anymore. I'm afraid that while my sardonic wit is still intact, everything I do is completely relevant to everything going on in the world, and therefore I can no longer tell lighthearted anecdotes. I'm far too serious and important.
No. I'm serious.
Annnnnnyway, I feel I should do something educational for Presidents Day. I have the day off (by the way, the absolute best part about jobs in the "real world" are having a three day weekend every month for these bullshit holidays), and I think that it is my civil and social responsibility to take time out of my day to learn a little something about our great nation's history. I could sit here and speak ambitiously of going to a museum, or buying a hardcover book, or watching History Channel all day, but a big enough part of me is plenty aware than I'll google Abraham Lincoln, get distracted by Scrabulous, and call it a day.
I have to get up at 6 am tomorrow for training. I'm running in the San Diego Rock N' Roll Marathon with Team In Training, and raising $5,000 for Leukemia and Lymphoma Research. That is 1,001 more dollars and 13.1 more miles than I did for Disney. See, the great thing about this is since I know for a fact I'm doing something really really good, not only for my body but for society as a whole, I feel that it is the end-all-be-all of excuses. I'll eat five Snicker's bars for lunch. Doesn't matter...I ran four miles that day. I can be late for work. I'm training for a marathon. I can say whatever I want no matter how offensive it is, because karma has my back since I'm raising all this money. In my mind, every dollar I raise provides me with a free pass to make fun of AIDS, the holocaust, rape, incest, domestic abuse, and most of all...incestuous rape of AIDS victims during the holocaust and beating them after. What, is that distasteful? Fuck off, I'm running a marathon for cancer.
Feel free to donate to the cause...this is my website.
http://www.active.com/donate/tntgla/SSzlaga
It's pretty stellar that I'm past $500 and haven't even started my letter writing campaign yet. My boss actually donated $100, which is brilliant.
Wait...did I didn't mention dead babies in things I'm allowed to make fun of. I'm still entitled to a SIDS joke.
So yes, fundraising and training is going to be taking up a lot of my time, but it's definitely worth it. Even if it does mean getting up to run at 7am on a Saturday with that is 90% women who say "you go girl!" after someone walks one mile. Last year I didn't run with the team at all, and I really don't want to do this all alone when I paid a good $50 registration fee to have trained athletes yell at me to keep running. They don't really yell, though. Kind of a bummer. I think I'd be good at boot camp. I respond to negativity and insults surprisingly well. People think that I'd be terrible because I have such a bad attitude I'd get pissed and leave, but I believe that it would be the opposite. I'd work extra hard to prove myself as the best person there, and even though my drill sergeant and I get off to a bumpy start through a series of comical mishaps and false impressions, I'd melt his heart in the end with my thick skin and sticktoitivness. I forgot what I was talking about.
Besides the running, I'm also keeping busy with writing (especially right now. How the fuck am I still talking?!). I've completed a rough treatment of my script and I have to admit, I never expected to get as attached to this project as I am. It honestly started off as a throw-away joke, then for some reason struck me as a funny idea to do a school assignment on, and now almost three years later I am legitimately writing it for a legitimate reason involving legitimate people. Crazy. I'm also doing a lot of stuff for my comedy writing class at Groundlings. Sometimes I think my teacher is more than a little out there, but she is hilarious and fantastic and nice and worked on some pretty funny sitcoms, so the flightiness just makes the whole experience even brighter. Especially when she sang a little ditty to me about how my friends are going to need treatment for alcohol abuse when I told a rather tawdry story about some of my less savory college days. And no, Twigger. It wasn't you. But yeah. She broke out into song. That just doesn't happen enough these days.
I want a girlfriend. I'm only now realizing how much I really blew it in that department in Chicago. I knew tons and tons and tons of people and can't say I was exactly oblivious to several missed opportunities, but I think I was just too driven to even think about relationships. I knew that my time in Chicago was going to come to an end eventually, and I had severe tunnel vision in terms of graduating, moving to LA, and getting a job. I've done all three of those things, and now I'm ready, but the issue now is that I know a total of about seven people in Los Angeles. There is one chick that I kind of dig ("chick that I dig..." yeah, that's the best I could come up with) and she IS single, so I should probably grow the balls, ignore the voice that lives in the back of my mind that tells me I'd make a terrible boyfriend and that no girls like me or ever will, and just go for it.
This was a pretty long post I shat out. I'll send a postcard to anyone who made it all the way to the end. Just post a comment with the words "Chevy Corsica" and I'll know you made it through.
Saturday, February 02, 2008
good timez
Most people only blog to complain. It's kind of like that word-of-mouth "fact" they tell you during orientation for a shitty retail job. People are ten times more likely to share a bad experience with other people than a good one. See, maybe it's just the fact that I'm obnoxiously vain and can't stop talking about myself (although I prefer the term "natural born storyteller"), but I think I'm just as likely to share a good or bad experience, as long as it's about me.
Sure, there's plenty of things in my life I could bitch about. I live on the other side of the country from my family. No matter how often I make a payment my credit card balance never seems to go down. It gets down to 40 at night and our apartment has no heat.
But no. I'm going to be talking about all of the good things going on in my life. Because you know what? I've got quite a few. And I'm not even going to make a trite list like usual! Granted, I just happened to change my mind because the previous sentence I just deleted read "and I'm going to do it with a trite list!"
First, there's work. Now, I love love love my job, but I'm not going to go into great detail on the internet about it, because you never know who might get bored in the office one day and rub google the right way and stumble upon this. That's why I don't really mention names or jobs or anything. Not because I have anything bad to say or that I'm worried this could get me fired (scatology sometimes runs rampant in my office), but I mostly just don't want to look like a nerd. What if one day my boss or coworker finds my blog and discovers that unbeknownst to them, I have been writing about all of our good times and relationships on the internet. It just seems weird. My general rule of thumb is that you have to be a reader of this thing, or at least aware of it, to get mentioned. Of course, there are exceptions...like the homeless man with the pink sock. Anyway, suffice it to say that I love my job because I have the opportunity to be creatively involved with the process of making television on a daily basis. I know that sounds like some rehearsed bullshit, but it's true. I'm doing some cool stuff. Granted, it's for reality television, which isn't really my one true love, but it's TV and you can see the Hollywood Sign from where I work.
Another good thing...one of my stories has been optioned. Even though it was optioned by my former boss, I'm just thrilled that someone, or anyone, is interested in getting my work made. It's pretty cool. Much like the privacy policy I just mentioned for work-related posts, I don't want to go into too much detail about this either. Everything is preliminary, and anything can change. I don't want anything coming back to bite me in the ass.
Finally, I'm running a full marathon in June and raising 5,000 dollars for the Leukemia and Lymphoma society. I set up a website and everything, and pretty soon I'll post the link to the website right here. For some odd reason, I've rapidly depleted any drive to continue to write this blog, so just be thankful for what you got and then get out of the house. It's Saturday for God's sake.
Sure, there's plenty of things in my life I could bitch about. I live on the other side of the country from my family. No matter how often I make a payment my credit card balance never seems to go down. It gets down to 40 at night and our apartment has no heat.
But no. I'm going to be talking about all of the good things going on in my life. Because you know what? I've got quite a few. And I'm not even going to make a trite list like usual! Granted, I just happened to change my mind because the previous sentence I just deleted read "and I'm going to do it with a trite list!"
First, there's work. Now, I love love love my job, but I'm not going to go into great detail on the internet about it, because you never know who might get bored in the office one day and rub google the right way and stumble upon this. That's why I don't really mention names or jobs or anything. Not because I have anything bad to say or that I'm worried this could get me fired (scatology sometimes runs rampant in my office), but I mostly just don't want to look like a nerd. What if one day my boss or coworker finds my blog and discovers that unbeknownst to them, I have been writing about all of our good times and relationships on the internet. It just seems weird. My general rule of thumb is that you have to be a reader of this thing, or at least aware of it, to get mentioned. Of course, there are exceptions...like the homeless man with the pink sock. Anyway, suffice it to say that I love my job because I have the opportunity to be creatively involved with the process of making television on a daily basis. I know that sounds like some rehearsed bullshit, but it's true. I'm doing some cool stuff. Granted, it's for reality television, which isn't really my one true love, but it's TV and you can see the Hollywood Sign from where I work.
Another good thing...one of my stories has been optioned. Even though it was optioned by my former boss, I'm just thrilled that someone, or anyone, is interested in getting my work made. It's pretty cool. Much like the privacy policy I just mentioned for work-related posts, I don't want to go into too much detail about this either. Everything is preliminary, and anything can change. I don't want anything coming back to bite me in the ass.
Finally, I'm running a full marathon in June and raising 5,000 dollars for the Leukemia and Lymphoma society. I set up a website and everything, and pretty soon I'll post the link to the website right here. For some odd reason, I've rapidly depleted any drive to continue to write this blog, so just be thankful for what you got and then get out of the house. It's Saturday for God's sake.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Forbes has published their first list of America’s Most Miserable Cities. This survey is based on each city’s crime rate, inflation, unemployment, commute times, toxic waste, weather, and taxes. The top ten are:
Proud to announce that I have lived in not one, not two, but three of those cities. Funny, I would have put Orlando near the top of that list too.
1. Detroit, MI
2. Stockton, CA
3. Flint, MI
4. New York City
5. Philadelphia, PA
6. Chicago, IL
7. Los Angeles, CA
8. Modesto, CA
9. Charlotte, NC
10. Providence, RI
Proud to announce that I have lived in not one, not two, but three of those cities. Funny, I would have put Orlando near the top of that list too.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Snowboarding in California
Pros:
Beautiful view of the mountains and surrounding deserts.
After a day on the slopes you drive home and it is 70 degrees.
Since you're in California, nobody knows what they are doing on a snowboard. By comparison, you look like a freaking pro and your self-confidence gets a major boost.
Cons:
Only one road to get up the mountain. It takes two hours to go four miles because of traffic.
After a day on the slopes, you are stuck waiting two hours for a bus to get you back to your car.
Since you're in California, nobody knows what they are doing on their snowboard. In a typical novice fashion, they make it halfway down the hill (sometimes even less), and sit down. Yes. Sit down. Right there. In the middle of everything.
Then their friends join them and form a cluster that you have to carefully maneuver through. I get it. You fell. Your bum-bum is sore. It hurts to get up. Well fucking get your ass on your board, go down the hill, go get some hot cocoa in the lodge and cry into it. I paid good money for my lift ticket and I don't appreciate your social club getting in the way.
Beautiful view of the mountains and surrounding deserts.
After a day on the slopes you drive home and it is 70 degrees.
Since you're in California, nobody knows what they are doing on a snowboard. By comparison, you look like a freaking pro and your self-confidence gets a major boost.
Cons:
Only one road to get up the mountain. It takes two hours to go four miles because of traffic.
After a day on the slopes, you are stuck waiting two hours for a bus to get you back to your car.
Since you're in California, nobody knows what they are doing on their snowboard. In a typical novice fashion, they make it halfway down the hill (sometimes even less), and sit down. Yes. Sit down. Right there. In the middle of everything.
Then their friends join them and form a cluster that you have to carefully maneuver through. I get it. You fell. Your bum-bum is sore. It hurts to get up. Well fucking get your ass on your board, go down the hill, go get some hot cocoa in the lodge and cry into it. I paid good money for my lift ticket and I don't appreciate your social club getting in the way.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
I'm Resolute
Another entry after posting one two days ago? Talk about saturation. I feel like I'm back in the UC, blogging about what I had for lunch and how my English teacher wore her hair that day. These are my New Year's Resolutions.
- Bring my lunch to work. Practical and economical. I did the math and a month's worth of buying lunches is roughly the amount of my insurance bill.
- Self-confidence. I don't have it. I'm just good at pretending I do.
- Using said self-confidence to meet a girl.
- Make more new friends and go out more.
- Write and perform more.
- Run the San Diego Marathon. I'm going to a meeting next week about it.
Six is a good number. I'll stop there. I was going to put "improve my attitude" on that list, but I really don't have that bad of an attitude. I'm sarcastic. That's all. Just because I'm salty doesn't mean I'm bitter.
- Bring my lunch to work. Practical and economical. I did the math and a month's worth of buying lunches is roughly the amount of my insurance bill.
- Self-confidence. I don't have it. I'm just good at pretending I do.
- Using said self-confidence to meet a girl.
- Make more new friends and go out more.
- Write and perform more.
- Run the San Diego Marathon. I'm going to a meeting next week about it.
Six is a good number. I'll stop there. I was going to put "improve my attitude" on that list, but I really don't have that bad of an attitude. I'm sarcastic. That's all. Just because I'm salty doesn't mean I'm bitter.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
08 will be gr8
Despite the fact that I wanted to do some reading, some writing, call my Grandma, clean my room, do the dishes, clear the kitchen table, and get some laundry done, all I managed to do before 2pm today was eat a Lean Cuisine pizza and watch several videos of this nature.
What can I say? It's hypnotic. I used to have Domino Rally when I was little. One of the best toys of my childhood. I had the glow-in-the-dark haunted graveyard set. It had a lot of sweet gadgets, like a guillotine, mine shaft, and some giant slide with a skull that never worked properly. Come to think of it, half of that shit didn't work. You'd spend hours meticulously creating the piece, only to have something ridiculous like a bridge malfunction straight off the bat. Maybe that's why I'm so enthralled by this FlippyCat person. They can do things with Domino Rally that I never even dreamed of. I also had a little car that would drive around and lay a line of dominoes for you. Too bad our kitchen floor was textured and that proved to be a waste of time and money.
It's about 8:30 not and I've managed to cross off most of that list. Last load of laundry is in the machine, my room is not only spic but equally span, I talked to Grandma for a half hour, the dishes are done, and I suppose this right here can be considered writing. I feel lazy and unproductive because I'm still in the same clothes I slept in last night. Fuck you, conscience! I got shit done. Besides, I just got back from vacation. Wait...my excuse for not leaving the apartment today is because I just got back from two weeks of laying around doing nothing? Yeah, sure. Why not.
And what a vacation it was. Michigan was good, as always. While it didn't feel nearly as rushed as the three-day endurance test known as "Thanksgiving," it still went by too fast. I probably should have made more of an attempt to see some friends from high school, but since I can count the people I'd like to hang out with in Novi on one hand, I wasn't really the social butterfly that most of you know and love. Not that I'm bitter and hated high school and don't want to see any of those people again. By all means, they are all lovely and enchanting people. But the crowd I ran with back in the day was, much like the crowds I run with today, quite ambitious. Most of them are no longer in Michigan, let alone Novi. This did however, provide me with a lot of quality time spent with the family.
Chicago was awesome. I planned on staying with Jess the first night because Jeff wasn't back in town yet, but ended up there the entire time. She had a futon, fresh towels, and cooked for me. As much as I love Jeff, all he had to offer were two creepy roommates. Aside from an all-too-brief visit to Noodles in the Pot with Twigger and Jon, my time was divided evenly between hanging out at the Diversey house, laying on Jess's futon watching bad reality TV, and going out drinking. I'd mention right here that I opened up my trusty "Painless Grammar" book just to make sure that "Jess's" was proper, but then the facade would disappear and you may no longer think I'm perfect. Annnyway.
I'm back in LA now. Started the new position yesterday and so far so good. It's nice to not have to go on runs all over the city now, but damn, the day goes by much slower when you're always at your desk. I'm never satisfied. Can you tell? I should be in a Snickers commercial.
...Because Snickers satisfies... That reference was retarded. Scratch that.
You want to know how I knew I was back in LA?
If you said "Because of the huge sign at the airport that says 'Welcome to Los Angeles!'" then go fuck yourself. I'm trying to tell a story.
Aside from the sign and the warm climate, I was ultimately assured that I had arrived back in the good ol' City of Angels when I went to get my bags there was a woman wearing a terrycloth housecoat holding a grease-stained Crave Case. She didn't have time to put on clothes, but she had a time to make a fucking trip to White Castle. Hey, who am I to judge? I stole a chalkboard on New Year's Eve. If you want to kick it at baggage claim in your pajamas with some sliders, have at it. Just be sure to share them with that pimp over there. Yep, the other reason I knew I was no longer in Kansas was when I spotted, on the other side of the same suitcase carousel, a man dressed in full-on pimp gear. Green leopard coat with matching green leopard hat, cane, sunglasses, bling (or "ice," as it were), and even a chalice. Was he a real pimp or just some man dressed as one? Is that how pimps really dress or is that a stereotype? I'd love to get some more opinions on this, but unfortunately I was unable to snap a picture. I couldn't blatantly pull out my cell phone and snap a photo. Especially because my vain attempt to silence my cell phone camera (in case a situation like discreet pimp photography ever arose) ended with me changing the settings so now it quacks...loudly. I tried to do some maneuver where it looked like I was having a conversation but was actually taking pictures, but they just came out blurry. Oh well.
And that's that. Now I'm back.
What can I say? It's hypnotic. I used to have Domino Rally when I was little. One of the best toys of my childhood. I had the glow-in-the-dark haunted graveyard set. It had a lot of sweet gadgets, like a guillotine, mine shaft, and some giant slide with a skull that never worked properly. Come to think of it, half of that shit didn't work. You'd spend hours meticulously creating the piece, only to have something ridiculous like a bridge malfunction straight off the bat. Maybe that's why I'm so enthralled by this FlippyCat person. They can do things with Domino Rally that I never even dreamed of. I also had a little car that would drive around and lay a line of dominoes for you. Too bad our kitchen floor was textured and that proved to be a waste of time and money.
It's about 8:30 not and I've managed to cross off most of that list. Last load of laundry is in the machine, my room is not only spic but equally span, I talked to Grandma for a half hour, the dishes are done, and I suppose this right here can be considered writing. I feel lazy and unproductive because I'm still in the same clothes I slept in last night. Fuck you, conscience! I got shit done. Besides, I just got back from vacation. Wait...my excuse for not leaving the apartment today is because I just got back from two weeks of laying around doing nothing? Yeah, sure. Why not.
And what a vacation it was. Michigan was good, as always. While it didn't feel nearly as rushed as the three-day endurance test known as "Thanksgiving," it still went by too fast. I probably should have made more of an attempt to see some friends from high school, but since I can count the people I'd like to hang out with in Novi on one hand, I wasn't really the social butterfly that most of you know and love. Not that I'm bitter and hated high school and don't want to see any of those people again. By all means, they are all lovely and enchanting people. But the crowd I ran with back in the day was, much like the crowds I run with today, quite ambitious. Most of them are no longer in Michigan, let alone Novi. This did however, provide me with a lot of quality time spent with the family.
Chicago was awesome. I planned on staying with Jess the first night because Jeff wasn't back in town yet, but ended up there the entire time. She had a futon, fresh towels, and cooked for me. As much as I love Jeff, all he had to offer were two creepy roommates. Aside from an all-too-brief visit to Noodles in the Pot with Twigger and Jon, my time was divided evenly between hanging out at the Diversey house, laying on Jess's futon watching bad reality TV, and going out drinking. I'd mention right here that I opened up my trusty "Painless Grammar" book just to make sure that "Jess's" was proper, but then the facade would disappear and you may no longer think I'm perfect. Annnyway.
I'm back in LA now. Started the new position yesterday and so far so good. It's nice to not have to go on runs all over the city now, but damn, the day goes by much slower when you're always at your desk. I'm never satisfied. Can you tell? I should be in a Snickers commercial.
...Because Snickers satisfies... That reference was retarded. Scratch that.
You want to know how I knew I was back in LA?
If you said "Because of the huge sign at the airport that says 'Welcome to Los Angeles!'" then go fuck yourself. I'm trying to tell a story.
Aside from the sign and the warm climate, I was ultimately assured that I had arrived back in the good ol' City of Angels when I went to get my bags there was a woman wearing a terrycloth housecoat holding a grease-stained Crave Case. She didn't have time to put on clothes, but she had a time to make a fucking trip to White Castle. Hey, who am I to judge? I stole a chalkboard on New Year's Eve. If you want to kick it at baggage claim in your pajamas with some sliders, have at it. Just be sure to share them with that pimp over there. Yep, the other reason I knew I was no longer in Kansas was when I spotted, on the other side of the same suitcase carousel, a man dressed in full-on pimp gear. Green leopard coat with matching green leopard hat, cane, sunglasses, bling (or "ice," as it were), and even a chalice. Was he a real pimp or just some man dressed as one? Is that how pimps really dress or is that a stereotype? I'd love to get some more opinions on this, but unfortunately I was unable to snap a picture. I couldn't blatantly pull out my cell phone and snap a photo. Especially because my vain attempt to silence my cell phone camera (in case a situation like discreet pimp photography ever arose) ended with me changing the settings so now it quacks...loudly. I tried to do some maneuver where it looked like I was having a conversation but was actually taking pictures, but they just came out blurry. Oh well.
And that's that. Now I'm back.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Wish and wish again that I was in Michigan
My parents googled my name with my company's name and came across this blog. I don't really care all that much because I don't write anything in here that I should be embarrassed of. Well, actually I probably write TONS of stuff that I SHOULD be embarrassed of, I'm just not embarrassed. I thought about deleting this whole thing or making it private, but after there's really nothing to hide. I don't do drugs or engage in outrageous sexual escapades (is that a sigh of relief I hear?), so what's there to hide from the parents? Besides, now at least I know that next time I go on a week-long binge of drugs and loose women, I'll be sure not to post it on the internet.
I'm back in Michigan. It's freezing and there's snow on the ground and I absolutely love the fact that I only have to deal with it for a short period of time. Although I do appreciate that people out here know how to make a goddamn left turn. One thing I didn't appreciate was being the one sitting next to the stupid crying baby on my flight. Then again, I did get bumped to first class when I came home for Thanksgiving, so I can't complain. Without the bitter, the sweet just ain't as sweet. Likewise, once you have the sweet, the bitter sucks ass.
A few months ago I interviewed for a new job at my company. I just got the offer before break. Even though pay is the same, I'm going to be assisting in development which I'm really excited about. I'll be organizing things and answering phones and drawing up reports and doing research, none of which sounds all that exciting as I say it, but trust me this is a good move. It will be nice to have my own desk and computer and not be the office bitch anymore. Mike and Jim knew how bad I wanted the job and how much I was suffering through the hardships of being a PA as I waited for word on the new position. To show their support, I was drenched in a champagne celebration on our balcony when I got home that night. It was awesome.
Anyone else wonder why Britney's sister didn't just get an abortion? Would have been a whole lot easier is all I'm saying.
I went to the dentist. I really like going to the dentist. This time I got him to say "them's some healthy chompers!" When I was little I had to get a tooth pulled and asked if I could scream. He didn't take me seriously and said I could scream. You bet your ass I screamed as loud as I could. I've been told that I scared the shit out of several children in the waiting room.
I went back to Vegas last weekend. It was rather impromptu. My friend Brynne (of Twist & Shout and Little Caesar's fame) IM'd me on Wednesday asking if I had a car and wanted to hang out over the weekend. I asked if she was in California. She said no, but that I should go to Vegas for her wedding. Never one to pass up one of life's fun surprises, I took Monday off and made reservations to go on Sunday for the wedding. That night I picked Zach up from the airport. Turns out he and Cam and Amanda were going to Vegas on Saturday night, so I ended up hitching a ride with them and going a day early. We had a blast. Zach and Cam saw Celine Dion, and Amanda and I did an excellent job of entertaining ourselves while we waited for them to get out. The four of us bought those tacky-spring-break-in-South-Pedro half yard margarita glasses and carried them around for a while. When we stumbled back into the hotel around 3am, Zach and I spent the better part of two hours using them as props in some ridiculous game that went on far too long and destroyed my voice. I yell a lot when I drink. I yell a lot more when I drink in Vegas.
So that's the update. I'm home. I got a promotion (of sorts). I went to Vegas. Ummm....so yeah.
I'm back in Michigan. It's freezing and there's snow on the ground and I absolutely love the fact that I only have to deal with it for a short period of time. Although I do appreciate that people out here know how to make a goddamn left turn. One thing I didn't appreciate was being the one sitting next to the stupid crying baby on my flight. Then again, I did get bumped to first class when I came home for Thanksgiving, so I can't complain. Without the bitter, the sweet just ain't as sweet. Likewise, once you have the sweet, the bitter sucks ass.
A few months ago I interviewed for a new job at my company. I just got the offer before break. Even though pay is the same, I'm going to be assisting in development which I'm really excited about. I'll be organizing things and answering phones and drawing up reports and doing research, none of which sounds all that exciting as I say it, but trust me this is a good move. It will be nice to have my own desk and computer and not be the office bitch anymore. Mike and Jim knew how bad I wanted the job and how much I was suffering through the hardships of being a PA as I waited for word on the new position. To show their support, I was drenched in a champagne celebration on our balcony when I got home that night. It was awesome.
Anyone else wonder why Britney's sister didn't just get an abortion? Would have been a whole lot easier is all I'm saying.
I went to the dentist. I really like going to the dentist. This time I got him to say "them's some healthy chompers!" When I was little I had to get a tooth pulled and asked if I could scream. He didn't take me seriously and said I could scream. You bet your ass I screamed as loud as I could. I've been told that I scared the shit out of several children in the waiting room.
I went back to Vegas last weekend. It was rather impromptu. My friend Brynne (of Twist & Shout and Little Caesar's fame) IM'd me on Wednesday asking if I had a car and wanted to hang out over the weekend. I asked if she was in California. She said no, but that I should go to Vegas for her wedding. Never one to pass up one of life's fun surprises, I took Monday off and made reservations to go on Sunday for the wedding. That night I picked Zach up from the airport. Turns out he and Cam and Amanda were going to Vegas on Saturday night, so I ended up hitching a ride with them and going a day early. We had a blast. Zach and Cam saw Celine Dion, and Amanda and I did an excellent job of entertaining ourselves while we waited for them to get out. The four of us bought those tacky-spring-break-in-South-Pedro half yard margarita glasses and carried them around for a while. When we stumbled back into the hotel around 3am, Zach and I spent the better part of two hours using them as props in some ridiculous game that went on far too long and destroyed my voice. I yell a lot when I drink. I yell a lot more when I drink in Vegas.
So that's the update. I'm home. I got a promotion (of sorts). I went to Vegas. Ummm....so yeah.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Hi I'm here.
I'm going to keep this short because I still haven't watched the Futurama movie (tried to last night but fell asleep at like midnight. Pathetic.) and I want to do that, read, and run today. Since it's only 2:30, you'd think that I have plenty of time to get all of that done and then some, but that's not the case for me. Once you take into account the hours of needless puttering and ridiculous internet searching I do, there's not a lot of time for good, planned fun.
Writing every day never worked out. Nobody blogs anymore. Remember when we were all so addicted to sharing every intimate detail of our lives? No way would we have believed 11 months ago that this was just a fad. I've been staring at those pictures of Baggy with a mustache for weeks now. Dani has updated twice since Halloween, both of them being lackluster To-Do lists. Dangles is most reliable but I skip the Coffee Shop reviews and don't pretend you don't do the same. There really is no excuse for me. I should be writing more, period, whether it's my treatment or a spec script or even some lame ass blog where all I do is talk about how lazy I am. Here's a poll I found. I'm going to use it as a template for the rest of this. It's about 2007.
1) DRINKING BUDDY OF THE YEAR
The roommates, definitely. I basically didn't drink from February until July, but once we moved in together, I quickly made up for lost time.
2) LIFETIME SERVICE AWARD (longest friend)
I met Alicia my Freshman year, and despite me being in LA and her being in China, we're still close.
3) NEWCOMER AWARD - COOLEST NEWEST FRIEND?
I'd have to say Flavin. Even though we were always friends, we weren't that close but now that we live together we are a pair of ridiculous sons of bitches.
3)HIGH POINT OF THE YEAR?
Raising $3,999 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and running the Walt Disney World Half Marathon. Yup, that was 2007.
4) LOW POINT OF THE YEAR?
When both of my Grandpas died within 10 days of each other. Grandpa Ochoa died on the 4th of July and my roommates were too busy getting shitfaced with the neighbors all day to seem to care at all. Went home. On my way to visit my Grandma in the hospital (she couldn't go to her husbands funeral because she had just had open heart surgery) we got a call that Grandpa Balagna had a stroke. I flew back home and two days later got the call that I need to go back to Michigan for a second funeral.
5) BEST HOLIDAY?
My Birthday. I was back in Chicago for graduation, got to see everyone there, then went home to my family, then celebrated turning 23 with a party thrown by Millie, Marisol, and Annie at Midway during my layover.
6) YOUR SONG FOR 2007
"Starlight" by Muse. I listend to it every day on my way to my internships.
7) MOVIE FOR 2007?
"Knocked Up," motherfuckers. "Knocked Up."
10) WHO DID YOU SPEND VALENTINES WITH?
I don't even remember. Was I still in Chicago? Either way, the answer is still no one.
11) BEST RELATIONSHIP?
Next question, please.
12) WHAT WERE YOU FOR HALLOWEEN
A carnie!
13) RESTAURANT OF THE YEAR?
MexiCali. It's walking distance, the food is edible, and the Margaritas are (usually) strong and tasty.
14) KISS OF THE YEAR?
I'm going to say nothing more than it was in January, we almost got murdered that night, and it wins out of sheer ridiculousness, not romance. The other party involved should know exactly what I'm talking about.
15) BEST DECISION MADE THIS YEAR?
Move to LA? I think?
16) MOST INTERESTING DRUNK STORY?
See question 14.
17) TV SHOW OF THE YEAR?
Veronica Mars. Rest in Peace.
18) MOST LOYAL FRIEND?
That's hard. I can't pick one over any others.
19) BIGGEST CHANGE OF THE YEAR?
Moving across the country.
20) NEW YEAR RESOLUTION?
Run a marathon. Keep working on my attitude problems.
I'm home for Christmas in two weeks. Thanksgiving wasn't very relaxing at all (did I ever write about that?) so I'm excited to have eight days to do nothing in particular. I really want to snowboard when I'm home, but will have to rent one since I already brought my board out here and don't feel like lugging it back again. I'm also excited beyond belief to go back to Chicago for New Years. Now that I'm a grown up and doing grown up things, I can't wait to be with my old friends and act like a complete jackass once more.
Writing every day never worked out. Nobody blogs anymore. Remember when we were all so addicted to sharing every intimate detail of our lives? No way would we have believed 11 months ago that this was just a fad. I've been staring at those pictures of Baggy with a mustache for weeks now. Dani has updated twice since Halloween, both of them being lackluster To-Do lists. Dangles is most reliable but I skip the Coffee Shop reviews and don't pretend you don't do the same. There really is no excuse for me. I should be writing more, period, whether it's my treatment or a spec script or even some lame ass blog where all I do is talk about how lazy I am. Here's a poll I found. I'm going to use it as a template for the rest of this. It's about 2007.
1) DRINKING BUDDY OF THE YEAR
The roommates, definitely. I basically didn't drink from February until July, but once we moved in together, I quickly made up for lost time.
2) LIFETIME SERVICE AWARD (longest friend)
I met Alicia my Freshman year, and despite me being in LA and her being in China, we're still close.
3) NEWCOMER AWARD - COOLEST NEWEST FRIEND?
I'd have to say Flavin. Even though we were always friends, we weren't that close but now that we live together we are a pair of ridiculous sons of bitches.
3)HIGH POINT OF THE YEAR?
Raising $3,999 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and running the Walt Disney World Half Marathon. Yup, that was 2007.
4) LOW POINT OF THE YEAR?
When both of my Grandpas died within 10 days of each other. Grandpa Ochoa died on the 4th of July and my roommates were too busy getting shitfaced with the neighbors all day to seem to care at all. Went home. On my way to visit my Grandma in the hospital (she couldn't go to her husbands funeral because she had just had open heart surgery) we got a call that Grandpa Balagna had a stroke. I flew back home and two days later got the call that I need to go back to Michigan for a second funeral.
5) BEST HOLIDAY?
My Birthday. I was back in Chicago for graduation, got to see everyone there, then went home to my family, then celebrated turning 23 with a party thrown by Millie, Marisol, and Annie at Midway during my layover.
6) YOUR SONG FOR 2007
"Starlight" by Muse. I listend to it every day on my way to my internships.
7) MOVIE FOR 2007?
"Knocked Up," motherfuckers. "Knocked Up."
10) WHO DID YOU SPEND VALENTINES WITH?
I don't even remember. Was I still in Chicago? Either way, the answer is still no one.
11) BEST RELATIONSHIP?
Next question, please.
12) WHAT WERE YOU FOR HALLOWEEN
A carnie!
13) RESTAURANT OF THE YEAR?
MexiCali. It's walking distance, the food is edible, and the Margaritas are (usually) strong and tasty.
14) KISS OF THE YEAR?
I'm going to say nothing more than it was in January, we almost got murdered that night, and it wins out of sheer ridiculousness, not romance. The other party involved should know exactly what I'm talking about.
15) BEST DECISION MADE THIS YEAR?
Move to LA? I think?
16) MOST INTERESTING DRUNK STORY?
See question 14.
17) TV SHOW OF THE YEAR?
Veronica Mars. Rest in Peace.
18) MOST LOYAL FRIEND?
That's hard. I can't pick one over any others.
19) BIGGEST CHANGE OF THE YEAR?
Moving across the country.
20) NEW YEAR RESOLUTION?
Run a marathon. Keep working on my attitude problems.
I'm home for Christmas in two weeks. Thanksgiving wasn't very relaxing at all (did I ever write about that?) so I'm excited to have eight days to do nothing in particular. I really want to snowboard when I'm home, but will have to rent one since I already brought my board out here and don't feel like lugging it back again. I'm also excited beyond belief to go back to Chicago for New Years. Now that I'm a grown up and doing grown up things, I can't wait to be with my old friends and act like a complete jackass once more.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Hell looks a lot like LA
I had to go pick up one of our producers from a meeting and drive them back to the office (yes, we can now add "/chauffeur" to the constantly growing list of duties in my job description), and we were talking about LA. She's from Chicago too, and we both agreed that we are extraordinarily happy with our lives in LA, we despise the city with every ounce of our beings. I can go on and on about how much I love my apartment, my roommates, my job, my office, my car, our big new TV, and my friends. I could write pages upon pages about how amazing it is living in the entertainment capital of the world all of the exciting things I get to experience on a daily basis. I could rave about the weather until the cows come home. The simple fact is, the city of Los Angeles...how can I put this eloquently...sucks shit-covered donkey balls. The lack of reliable public transportation to most of the city, the traffic congestion, the assholes walking around in $5,000 suits with smug looks of self-entitlement on their faces as they walk into traffic without looking either way, it's ridiculous. I suppose this town could eat me alive if I let it. But that ain't never gonna happen.
There is a roll of about 1,925 extra tickets in my closet from the carny costume. I've decided to make use of them by starting a friendly competition between Mike and Jim. Every time either of them do something that I find exceptionally hilarious or heartwarming, I give them a ticket. Whoever has the most tickets by December 1st gets to accompany me to my office's big Holiday party blowout, where there will be snow machines, multiple bars, and an ice luge. I just gave Jim a ticket for riling up the homeless man shouting out nonsense as he walks along the river outside our apartment. Yeah. I live right on the Los Angeles river. And no, it's not as glamorous as it sounds.
I had a lot that I wanted to get done today, but decided to take a four hour nap instead. Hell, it was a Saturday afternoon. Fuck errands. Errands are CLEARLY a scramble-to-get-them-done-on-Sunday-night-before-work-the-next-day kind of affair. I did go to the grocery store and plug a DVD player into the TV in my room. And I do plan on going for a run after I finish this. So...that's productive enough. It's not like I've been sitting on the couch eating Nutella straight from the jar and watching Law & Order all day.
When I went to the screening with my old boss a few weeks ago, I came back to my car to find a bracelet on the ground right next to my door. It says "Live in Love" on it. I kept it. It seemed like some sort of sign. I don't know what it could be a sign for, aside from some hippie/spiritual bullshit, but I think holding on to it makes me seem sensitive and layered, all the same.
I'm very very passionate about the Writer's Strike. Strange, considering I'm not passionate about anything ever. I'd love to use this as a forum to go on and on about how the studios are being selfish bastards and why those who think the writer's are a bunch of rich people wanting to get richer are sorely misinformed. However, I also recognize that I do, oddly enough, have several readers who could care less about any of this, and have most likely already stopped reading. I proudly support the union. Maybe this is because I'm an aspiring writer and recognize that the things that the WGA is fighting for (to actually make money off of programs played on the internet, since it's common knowledge that the internet is the future) are going to (hopefully) directly affect me in the future. Or maybe I just feel strongly towards unions because my Dad was an auto worker. Hmmm...no. Definitely the first one. Whatever the case may be, the writers are right. And I'll gladly sacrifice all of my beloved shows until they get what they deserve. Anyone pissed off because Grey's Anatomy shut down production can suck it. Regardless, everyone should check out the video below. If you read my blog, it's because I am important to you in some way, shape or form. And this is important to me. Ergo, the least you can do is watch a 4 minute clip.
There is a roll of about 1,925 extra tickets in my closet from the carny costume. I've decided to make use of them by starting a friendly competition between Mike and Jim. Every time either of them do something that I find exceptionally hilarious or heartwarming, I give them a ticket. Whoever has the most tickets by December 1st gets to accompany me to my office's big Holiday party blowout, where there will be snow machines, multiple bars, and an ice luge. I just gave Jim a ticket for riling up the homeless man shouting out nonsense as he walks along the river outside our apartment. Yeah. I live right on the Los Angeles river. And no, it's not as glamorous as it sounds.
I had a lot that I wanted to get done today, but decided to take a four hour nap instead. Hell, it was a Saturday afternoon. Fuck errands. Errands are CLEARLY a scramble-to-get-them-done-on-Sunday-night-before-work-the-next-day kind of affair. I did go to the grocery store and plug a DVD player into the TV in my room. And I do plan on going for a run after I finish this. So...that's productive enough. It's not like I've been sitting on the couch eating Nutella straight from the jar and watching Law & Order all day.
When I went to the screening with my old boss a few weeks ago, I came back to my car to find a bracelet on the ground right next to my door. It says "Live in Love" on it. I kept it. It seemed like some sort of sign. I don't know what it could be a sign for, aside from some hippie/spiritual bullshit, but I think holding on to it makes me seem sensitive and layered, all the same.
I'm very very passionate about the Writer's Strike. Strange, considering I'm not passionate about anything ever. I'd love to use this as a forum to go on and on about how the studios are being selfish bastards and why those who think the writer's are a bunch of rich people wanting to get richer are sorely misinformed. However, I also recognize that I do, oddly enough, have several readers who could care less about any of this, and have most likely already stopped reading. I proudly support the union. Maybe this is because I'm an aspiring writer and recognize that the things that the WGA is fighting for (to actually make money off of programs played on the internet, since it's common knowledge that the internet is the future) are going to (hopefully) directly affect me in the future. Or maybe I just feel strongly towards unions because my Dad was an auto worker. Hmmm...no. Definitely the first one. Whatever the case may be, the writers are right. And I'll gladly sacrifice all of my beloved shows until they get what they deserve. Anyone pissed off because Grey's Anatomy shut down production can suck it. Regardless, everyone should check out the video below. If you read my blog, it's because I am important to you in some way, shape or form. And this is important to me. Ergo, the least you can do is watch a 4 minute clip.
Monday, November 12, 2007
What are you, like 10?
Today's Crazy is not just a single person. It's a whole family. I went to go pick up Indian food for some of my bosses (despite my protests that I didn't want my care to smell), and was rung up by a boy that could not have been older than ten. The family's decision to shirk child labor laws, however, should not come as that big of a surprise, as I was first greeted by a toddler running around with a toothpick.
This was a good weekend. Friday I saw a short called "Psycho Hillybilly Cabin Massacre!" at the AFI Fest, then went out to a bar in Hollywood. We were sitting on the patio when we noticed a helicopter with a spotlight circling around. When we left, there were police cars all over and the roads were closed. Apparently there had been a robbery. How exciting! On Saturday I went to a party where everyone but me seemed to work for Deal or No Deal. It was actually a TON of fun. My friend Kristin tried valiantly to break open a Pinata, and despite the fact that she was not blindfolded and the Pinata was sitting idly on the ground, she had quite a challenge. It may have been the ten or so shots of Jager that did her in. Who knows. Hard to say. On Sunday I went to Ikea with Zach and his roommate Amanda, where we bought stuff and caused a scene, as usual. When you're already settled into an apartment and have most of the necessities, Ikea certainly does lack magic. It just becomes an exercise in patience and tolerance for slow idiots. Also, the green end table I wanted was sold out. It was called a "lack." So, apparently Ikea not lacks magic, it lacks lacks. After Ikea we met Mike for an AMAZING dinner at this delightful Italian restaurant! The food? To die for! The friends? I'd die for!
Anyone watch Curb Your Enthusiasm? Last night's finale might have been the most satisfying thing I've ever seen on television. And I cried watching My Name is Earl once.
It's been a slow day at work, and despite the fact that I have a script to read, a monologue to write and memorize, and a treatment to revise, I spent every minute dicking around on the internet, thus ensuring that I have a million things to do when I get home. I sent another movie idea to Mike's old work. This one is called "'Til Death Don't Us Part." Enjoy...
---
I have a great idea for a new Adam Sandler comedy! It's Weekend at
Bernie's meets The Wedding Planner, and a surefire hit for one of
comedy's greatest leading men!
In "Til' Death Don't Us Part," Adam Sandler plays Trey Calahan, a man
who seemingly has everything going for him. A great job, a great
apartment, and a great fiancé! Franny (a Jennifer Lopez/Kate Hudson
type), thinks she knows everyone about Trey, but there's one thing he
has yet to mention to her... His sexual attraction to dead bodies!
When Franny's mother, Charlota is raped and murdered in an alley
downtown, tragedy and comedy fornicate and give birth to hilarious
hijinks when Trey finds himself falling for his girlfriend's dead
mother. Now, with the wedding days away, he has to make the ultimate
decision. Stay with the girl he thought he loved, or for once in his
life let love lead the way?
Franny visits Cassiopaea, her psychic, whose crystal ball reveals that
Trey has dug up her mother's corpse and is cheating on her with it.
In a fit of devastation, Franny throws herself off the top of the YMCA
on 7th Street and Rosemont. Trey receives the news and rushes to the
morgue in order to identify the body. When the coroner lifts the sheet
to reveal Franny's bloody, mangled remains, it is like Trey sees her
for the first time. He instantly falls in love with Franny all over
again. He scoops up what he can and moves her into a beautiful
penthouse on the Upper East Side, where they both live happily ever
after.
This was a good weekend. Friday I saw a short called "Psycho Hillybilly Cabin Massacre!" at the AFI Fest, then went out to a bar in Hollywood. We were sitting on the patio when we noticed a helicopter with a spotlight circling around. When we left, there were police cars all over and the roads were closed. Apparently there had been a robbery. How exciting! On Saturday I went to a party where everyone but me seemed to work for Deal or No Deal. It was actually a TON of fun. My friend Kristin tried valiantly to break open a Pinata, and despite the fact that she was not blindfolded and the Pinata was sitting idly on the ground, she had quite a challenge. It may have been the ten or so shots of Jager that did her in. Who knows. Hard to say. On Sunday I went to Ikea with Zach and his roommate Amanda, where we bought stuff and caused a scene, as usual. When you're already settled into an apartment and have most of the necessities, Ikea certainly does lack magic. It just becomes an exercise in patience and tolerance for slow idiots. Also, the green end table I wanted was sold out. It was called a "lack." So, apparently Ikea not lacks magic, it lacks lacks. After Ikea we met Mike for an AMAZING dinner at this delightful Italian restaurant! The food? To die for! The friends? I'd die for!
Anyone watch Curb Your Enthusiasm? Last night's finale might have been the most satisfying thing I've ever seen on television. And I cried watching My Name is Earl once.
It's been a slow day at work, and despite the fact that I have a script to read, a monologue to write and memorize, and a treatment to revise, I spent every minute dicking around on the internet, thus ensuring that I have a million things to do when I get home. I sent another movie idea to Mike's old work. This one is called "'Til Death Don't Us Part." Enjoy...
---
I have a great idea for a new Adam Sandler comedy! It's Weekend at
Bernie's meets The Wedding Planner, and a surefire hit for one of
comedy's greatest leading men!
In "Til' Death Don't Us Part," Adam Sandler plays Trey Calahan, a man
who seemingly has everything going for him. A great job, a great
apartment, and a great fiancé! Franny (a Jennifer Lopez/Kate Hudson
type), thinks she knows everyone about Trey, but there's one thing he
has yet to mention to her... His sexual attraction to dead bodies!
When Franny's mother, Charlota is raped and murdered in an alley
downtown, tragedy and comedy fornicate and give birth to hilarious
hijinks when Trey finds himself falling for his girlfriend's dead
mother. Now, with the wedding days away, he has to make the ultimate
decision. Stay with the girl he thought he loved, or for once in his
life let love lead the way?
Franny visits Cassiopaea, her psychic, whose crystal ball reveals that
Trey has dug up her mother's corpse and is cheating on her with it.
In a fit of devastation, Franny throws herself off the top of the YMCA
on 7th Street and Rosemont. Trey receives the news and rushes to the
morgue in order to identify the body. When the coroner lifts the sheet
to reveal Franny's bloody, mangled remains, it is like Trey sees her
for the first time. He instantly falls in love with Franny all over
again. He scoops up what he can and moves her into a beautiful
penthouse on the Upper East Side, where they both live happily ever
after.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
A Hole for Laura Jane
I'd like to introduce a new segment that I shall call "Today's Crazy," in which I talk about one of the many insane people wandering the streets of downtown Los Angeles. Perhaps I'll even come up with a jingle for it in the future, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. Today's Crazy is a man sitting on a bench in the small courtyard near our parking structure. He had one shoe off, and was raising his foot, adorned in a clean pink sock, in the air and shouting "Where's my pinky! There's my pinky!" and giggling incessantly. He really, really, really liked that sock. Like, I mean, he must have fucking loved that sock. For a homeless man to keep their feet clean...that's devotion. True love for the simple things.
Wow I got some good advice on not being afraid to fail and don't be hard on yourself and all that. Thanks guys! Who needs therapy?
Sadly though, this may all be a moot point. I have a second interview on Thursday for that development job that I really, really want. Hopefully they will understand that I've already paid for class and need to leave early on Tuesday's for a few weeks. I'd even come in an hour early in the morning to make up for leaving a half hour early that night. I'm not going to worry about this right now. My focus is mainly on just getting that job and not being a PA anymore. Talk about thankless. Sure, the money is great but doing stuff like draining air conditioners, assembling 40 office chairs, and taking four hours of your day to drive to Hermosa Beach and then getting a parking ticket on top of that...it really starts to wear you down. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. Working on that attitude, remember? However, it is only human that as I clean out the fridge after a Coke can exploded, I can't stop thinking about how badly I want that new job.
Mike interned for a company that accepts blind submissions. Essentially this means that any Tom, Dick or Andy is welcome to email them an idea for a movie. If they like the idea, they ask for a full script. This is one of the very few places left in Hollywood that still accepts unsolicited material (scripts not send in from an agent). Mike has developed an alias in which he sends the company ludicrous and offensive material, just for shits and giggles. I decided I wanted in on the fun, and so I sent them this little gem. It's called "A Hole for Laura Jane." Below is the pitch that I sent to the company.
Wow I got some good advice on not being afraid to fail and don't be hard on yourself and all that. Thanks guys! Who needs therapy?
Sadly though, this may all be a moot point. I have a second interview on Thursday for that development job that I really, really want. Hopefully they will understand that I've already paid for class and need to leave early on Tuesday's for a few weeks. I'd even come in an hour early in the morning to make up for leaving a half hour early that night. I'm not going to worry about this right now. My focus is mainly on just getting that job and not being a PA anymore. Talk about thankless. Sure, the money is great but doing stuff like draining air conditioners, assembling 40 office chairs, and taking four hours of your day to drive to Hermosa Beach and then getting a parking ticket on top of that...it really starts to wear you down. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. Working on that attitude, remember? However, it is only human that as I clean out the fridge after a Coke can exploded, I can't stop thinking about how badly I want that new job.
Mike interned for a company that accepts blind submissions. Essentially this means that any Tom, Dick or Andy is welcome to email them an idea for a movie. If they like the idea, they ask for a full script. This is one of the very few places left in Hollywood that still accepts unsolicited material (scripts not send in from an agent). Mike has developed an alias in which he sends the company ludicrous and offensive material, just for shits and giggles. I decided I wanted in on the fun, and so I sent them this little gem. It's called "A Hole for Laura Jane." Below is the pitch that I sent to the company.
“A Hole For Laura Jane” is a heartwarming Christmas tale in the vein of "The House Without a Christmas Tree," only instead of a house, it is a young girl growing up in a small country town, and instead of a Christmas Tree, it is a vagina.
The story begins when Laura Jane, 12, notices in the locker room that her body is different from the other girls. She asks her parents why she doesn't have a "bajingo." They take Laura Jane to Dr. Gamora, who diagnosis her with acute vaginaloctopi. The only option is a risky surgery, that could result in Laura Jane's death. The family spends their holiday season in each other's arms, as they try to come to terms with Laura Jane's situation. Would it be better for Laura Jane to grow up with no Vagina, or not grow up at all? Laura Jane wakes her parents up on Christmas morning with the news. She has decided that she wants the surgery. The family spends what may turn out to be their last Christmas together with not only quiet and somber reflection, but also hope for the future. The next day, Laura Jane is taken to a walk-in clinic, where the doctors prepare for the major surgery. Only moments before the surgeon's scalpel is to pierce her nether regions, a startling discovery is made. Laura Jane does have a vagina! It just happens to be closed. In a heartfelt climax, the surgeon opens up Laura Jane's vagina. To everyone's surprise, a baby comes out! Laura Jane has been immaculately impregnated, and the son of God is conceived.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Everyday, huh?
I couldn't even make it 48 hours before reneging on the whole writing every day idea. However, in my defense, Tuesdays are too busy for me. I work from 9-6, then go right to Improv. By the time I get home at 11, all I want to do is lay on the couch and fall asleep to South Park reruns. Although, it's not like work was that busy. I sure did find enough time to chat with Jess and Mike online throughout the day, as it was. Class was good, by the way. I'm trying not to be so hard on myself anymore. Typically I would leave class hating myself and questioning why I am hemorrhaging money for something I suck at. However, I am working hard to remind myself that this is just a class and everyone is learning and it's okay not to be incredibly amazing and hilarious every time. As long as I work hard and leave each class feeling like I did better than the week before, then I'm getting my money's worth. Plus I can totally afford this, cause I have a real job and rent is cheap, so suck it.
I was not looking forward to work today, because Rob and I were supposed to clean and organize the office's storage unit. Luckily we got help in the form of our two awesome interns, so everything went smoothly. I like the people I work with a lot. There's always talk about a PA/Intern gathering, but it never comes to fruition. I'll make sure it happens soon. I think the hard part is that when you spend 10 hours a day with people, no one really wants to hang out off the clock. We want to go home and eat tater tots and watch our shows. At least, that's all I'm thinking about when it's time to punch out. But yeah, I'll make sure it happens soon. I'm excited for this weekend because not only do I have a party in Hollywood (how cool is it, by the way, that I get to say "I have a party in Hollywood"), but on Friday night I'm going to a screening of a short at the AFI Fest and then meeting the director. It's hard for me to go into that many details here, because I'm worried that if I mention the name of the movie or the director or why this is encouraging news for me from a professional standpoint, an involved party may find this post via Google, which would be kind of embarrassing. And don't read into this too much. All I said was this is "encouraging" to me. It doesn't mean anything big is happening.
Oh, I solved a mystery today. This is big! I figured out why traffic in Los Angeles is so fucking terrible. Illegal immigrants. No, I'm not being racist. I'm serious. I know this is a whole hot-button issue or whatever, but don't expect me to take a side or start giving informed opinions on the topics. I don't give a shit about illegal immigrants at all. Well, that is, I didn't give a shit about illegal immigrants until I realized the striking similarities between all of the drivers that wait until the light turns red to make a left turn even when there's no oncoming traffic, take a full minute to switch lanes without using a signal, and hold up all of the people behind them by almost coming to a complete stop while pulling into a driveway or parking lot. Don't you see? They can't take Driver's Ed because they're illegal. They don't know what yield means, that pedestrians have the right of the way, or that you can go five over the speed limit. I know I said I wasn't going to get involved in this debate, but the more I think about it, the more I agree that something has to be done. Illegal immigrants should have the right to learn how to drive through state-approved courses. If they did, I guarantee you that the roads in California would run much smoother.
There. I wrote again. Look at me go. Now let's see if tomorrow I can't get some work done on my treatment for Leper High. Oh yeah. Leper High is really happening. It's a top priority at this point.
I was not looking forward to work today, because Rob and I were supposed to clean and organize the office's storage unit. Luckily we got help in the form of our two awesome interns, so everything went smoothly. I like the people I work with a lot. There's always talk about a PA/Intern gathering, but it never comes to fruition. I'll make sure it happens soon. I think the hard part is that when you spend 10 hours a day with people, no one really wants to hang out off the clock. We want to go home and eat tater tots and watch our shows. At least, that's all I'm thinking about when it's time to punch out. But yeah, I'll make sure it happens soon. I'm excited for this weekend because not only do I have a party in Hollywood (how cool is it, by the way, that I get to say "I have a party in Hollywood"), but on Friday night I'm going to a screening of a short at the AFI Fest and then meeting the director. It's hard for me to go into that many details here, because I'm worried that if I mention the name of the movie or the director or why this is encouraging news for me from a professional standpoint, an involved party may find this post via Google, which would be kind of embarrassing. And don't read into this too much. All I said was this is "encouraging" to me. It doesn't mean anything big is happening.
Oh, I solved a mystery today. This is big! I figured out why traffic in Los Angeles is so fucking terrible. Illegal immigrants. No, I'm not being racist. I'm serious. I know this is a whole hot-button issue or whatever, but don't expect me to take a side or start giving informed opinions on the topics. I don't give a shit about illegal immigrants at all. Well, that is, I didn't give a shit about illegal immigrants until I realized the striking similarities between all of the drivers that wait until the light turns red to make a left turn even when there's no oncoming traffic, take a full minute to switch lanes without using a signal, and hold up all of the people behind them by almost coming to a complete stop while pulling into a driveway or parking lot. Don't you see? They can't take Driver's Ed because they're illegal. They don't know what yield means, that pedestrians have the right of the way, or that you can go five over the speed limit. I know I said I wasn't going to get involved in this debate, but the more I think about it, the more I agree that something has to be done. Illegal immigrants should have the right to learn how to drive through state-approved courses. If they did, I guarantee you that the roads in California would run much smoother.
There. I wrote again. Look at me go. Now let's see if tomorrow I can't get some work done on my treatment for Leper High. Oh yeah. Leper High is really happening. It's a top priority at this point.
Monday, November 05, 2007
I solemnly swear
I made a promise to myself to write in this at least once a day. Not for the entertainment of others (although I'm well aware that I deliver that by the barrel full), but because I really should be doing this kind of stuff. Even though I laughed at my Uncle Jim when he looked at me with the utmost serious to say "Steve, writers write," as if that was some golden nugget of knowledge that a college degree never procured for me, I really haven't been been following through.
I'm really excited to go home for Thanksgiving. I probably would have skipped it and saved my money, since I'm going home for Christmas too. However, since my Grandma didn't get to go to Grandpa's funeral, we are having the Memorial Mass the Saturday after Thanksgiving and there's no way I can't be there for her. My aunt Audrey just emailed me the poem they want me to read. This is it:
Obviously, it's very fitting for the situation and will no doubt be hard to get through, but I guess that's what I get for being the charismatic one in the family. Hmmm...I wonder if that caused any moist eyes in the house? If I had to guess I'd say...Dani?
Wow. Somber. This wasn't supposed to be all emotional. I hate that shit. Let's change the subject.
I don't think I got the job I interviewed for, but regardless, work is okay. I guess I'd compare it to Disney World. My opinion of it changes every five minutes. There is no middle ground, I either absolutely love it or swear that I am seriously quitting and that I mean it this time. I think the hard part of it is the fact that I'm a Production Assistant with absolutely NO interest in production. None. At all. I'd rather bag groceries. Unfortunately my options are limited, since I'll probably stumble across the Holy Grail before getting hired as a Writer's Assistant and there are currently no paid listings for "Aspiring Improv Performer." I guess I just need to be happy that my job allows me plenty of time to engage in writing and improv. I'm not bitching. I swear I'm not complaining. I get paid well and work for cool people. Can't complain. I'm REALLY working on the attitude thing. Making an effort.
One of the positives of my job is how rewarding it feels to pay your own rent. Damn. Sure, it's a double-edged sword because paying your own rent means that your hard earned money can't go to beer and pizza, but feeling like an adult is nice. Although I do owe my parents $300. I forgot about that.
On the Los Angeles network page of Facebook, it had the most popular books listed. Harry Potter is obviously number one, while the Bible is number two. Do you capitalize the "the" in the Bible? I'm not sure. I mean you capitalize "Him" when referring to the big G so having to capitalize "The" doesn't seem that out of the question. Anyway, I'm not surprised that Harry Potter beat the good book (or Good Book?) at all. I'm surprised that in a town as Godless as Los Angeles, the second most popular piece of literature listed on Facebook is the Bible. I bet you if the Church decided to claim that a disciple is gay, they'd totally top the list. Just so we're clear, that's a Dumbledore joke, not blaspheming. God knows some crazy people have wondered across my blog (Crazy Disney employees and Jericho fans, I'm looking at you), so I just want to have my butt covered in case someone takes offense.
This has really been all over the place, hasn't it? What a ride. I laughed. I cried. I spell checked.
I'm really excited to go home for Thanksgiving. I probably would have skipped it and saved my money, since I'm going home for Christmas too. However, since my Grandma didn't get to go to Grandpa's funeral, we are having the Memorial Mass the Saturday after Thanksgiving and there's no way I can't be there for her. My aunt Audrey just emailed me the poem they want me to read. This is it:
If tears could build a stairway, and memories a lane,
We would walk right up to Heaven and bring you back again.
You were gone before we knew it, and only God knows why.
What it meant to love you – no one can ever know.
To remember all the happy times; life still has much in store.
A hollowed place within our heart is where you’ll always stay.
Obviously, it's very fitting for the situation and will no doubt be hard to get through, but I guess that's what I get for being the charismatic one in the family. Hmmm...I wonder if that caused any moist eyes in the house? If I had to guess I'd say...Dani?
Wow. Somber. This wasn't supposed to be all emotional. I hate that shit. Let's change the subject.
I don't think I got the job I interviewed for, but regardless, work is okay. I guess I'd compare it to Disney World. My opinion of it changes every five minutes. There is no middle ground, I either absolutely love it or swear that I am seriously quitting and that I mean it this time. I think the hard part of it is the fact that I'm a Production Assistant with absolutely NO interest in production. None. At all. I'd rather bag groceries. Unfortunately my options are limited, since I'll probably stumble across the Holy Grail before getting hired as a Writer's Assistant and there are currently no paid listings for "Aspiring Improv Performer." I guess I just need to be happy that my job allows me plenty of time to engage in writing and improv. I'm not bitching. I swear I'm not complaining. I get paid well and work for cool people. Can't complain. I'm REALLY working on the attitude thing. Making an effort.
One of the positives of my job is how rewarding it feels to pay your own rent. Damn. Sure, it's a double-edged sword because paying your own rent means that your hard earned money can't go to beer and pizza, but feeling like an adult is nice. Although I do owe my parents $300. I forgot about that.
On the Los Angeles network page of Facebook, it had the most popular books listed. Harry Potter is obviously number one, while the Bible is number two. Do you capitalize the "the" in the Bible? I'm not sure. I mean you capitalize "Him" when referring to the big G so having to capitalize "The" doesn't seem that out of the question. Anyway, I'm not surprised that Harry Potter beat the good book (or Good Book?) at all. I'm surprised that in a town as Godless as Los Angeles, the second most popular piece of literature listed on Facebook is the Bible. I bet you if the Church decided to claim that a disciple is gay, they'd totally top the list. Just so we're clear, that's a Dumbledore joke, not blaspheming. God knows some crazy people have wondered across my blog (Crazy Disney employees and Jericho fans, I'm looking at you), so I just want to have my butt covered in case someone takes offense.
This has really been all over the place, hasn't it? What a ride. I laughed. I cried. I spell checked.
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