Doctor Doctor

So, I need to go see a doctor. I've been feeling weird and out of it for a few days and my guess is that it has something to do with all of the running. Lack of nutrition or something. So I go to my insurance's website and I find a doctor. I call the number and was very pleased to discover he could fit me in tomorrow morning, despite the fact that it is already 6pm. So excited, in fact, that I decided to overlook the fact that the doctor himself answered the phone and made the appointment. And that the doctor himself informed me that this week was "very light" for him. Ever the smart consumer, I decided to google this guy, just to see what other people had to say. When I was searching for the opinions of others, I meant like-minded patients looking to either praise this guy or warn other potential clients. I was not anticipating the opinions of TMZ, and The Hollywood Gossip. Here are headlines from the first four websites that turn up when you google the name of the man I was supposed to see tomorrow morning for medical assistance:

The Doctor Who Scored Methadone for Anna Nicole - TMZ.com

Dr. Kapoor: "Pregnant Anna Not on Drugs"

Dr. Sandeep Kapoor: The Anna Nicole Smith Drug Lord

Anna Nicole Smith's shady, evil doctor. We simply do not trust Dr. Sandeep Kapoor.

So if you ever come across a doctor who acts as his own receptionist and can get you in first thing in the morning despite you calling at closing time the day before...be wary. He probably killed a D-List celebrity.

recapitated

The show went well. I wasn't blown away by the amount of people who showed up but given it was Passover, I was satisfied. More importantly, the performers had a blast, the audience enjoyed the show, and I didn't do too bad myself. A lot of people want to do it again, which would be great. We had a lot of fun.

I said it last time and I'll say it again. If you ever wonder who your real friends are, or which relationships deserve more energy and time than others, do something like this. As I train for a marathon, try to raise 5000 dollars for cancer, and put on a benefit show to raise said dollars...in terms of reliable and genuine people, this is definitely a "cream rises to the top" situation. Lucky for me, I have a lot of cream.

wait...ew

if you're in Los Angeles, you should come to my show!

yep. I work in that.

the other side of the building is an ad for Battlestar Galactica.

- I can't stop showing up late for work. I try (usually) but I always fail. My boss doesn't seem to care and that right there pretty much guarantees I won't be in on time. All I need is for him to yell at me and I'll feel like an ass and never be tardy again. I should just come out and ask him to get mad.

- I don't have to move until December now.

- Yesterday I was sitting in terrible traffic and I made up a song about it. I had that song in my head all day.

- We thought about moving, looked at an apartment, liked it, could have had it, but changed our minds. I went to a party on Sunday and randomly ran into the guys that moved in there instead. They go to Columbia.

I'm Kidding. She's Not Dead. Wanna Make Out?

I'm never going to get a girlfriend because I am incapable of differentiating what is appropriate to say to people who know me well, and people who don't know me at all. I'm weird, offbeat, and sarcastic, and unfortunately there's no switch for that, nor is there a pill I can take to hide it temporarily. Because of that, meeting potential girlfriends is essentially impossible. Don't get me wrong...I make no apologies.

For instance, the other night we were at the bar for my friend Sam's birthday and this girl overheard me talking about Chicago. She tapped me on the shoulder and said "I'm from Chicago too!" I asked if she knew Sam and if she was there for her birthday. The girl told me she didn't know Sam. Now...a normal person with any ounce of restraint or even the slightest sense of normalcy would seize this opportunity to meet a new member of the opposite sex and explore various routes to pursue a courtship, whatever they may be. But no. Not me. I responded with a quick "Yeah. She's dead." The girl gave me a horrified look and quickly walked away. Why would I do that? Why would any sane person do that?

Another potential conversation was destroyed when a girl asked if I saw her purse and I told her I stole it. She was not amused. You see what I'm saying? I do not possess the skills necessary to show restraint to present a NORMAL first impression. Maybe it's a subconscious mechanism I employ in order to be remembered. Maybe it's self-sabotage. Maybe I am missing the some sort of chromosome that tells a human what is acceptable behavior when making introductions. Who knows.

Don't get me wrong. I'm perfectly happy with who I am and have no intentions of giving up my quirky demeanor, and I'm well aware that I have plenty of good friends who are just as crazy as me. The difference is, those friends know how to turn it off long enough to meet new people and convince them that they are not a sociopath.

In other news, I'm starting to get a handle on the many tasks I have taken on over the past few months. My comedy writing class is coming to an end. I'll be glad to have my Thursday nights back, and glad to get back into classes for acting and improv, but I really enjoyed it. I wrote a few sketches and monologues that I'm really proud of. I'm not sure I really learned how to write any better or funnier, but this class did force me to sit down and create stuff, so it was well worth it. In fact, I'm going to perform one of my sketches, "Demon Baby's Dirty Diaper," at...

...the comedy show I am putting together! The kegger for cancer never quite took off because there aren't a lot of people in my life right now who are that eager to attend a keg party, so I cancelled it when my RSVP list consisted of six confirmed attendees and about two dozen "maybes." I don't spend money on beer for "maybe." So, with all of this improv and writing I've been doing, I had an even better idea than a keg party. I know plenty of people in the same boat as me who want to perform but don't have that many opportunities, so I'm renting out a theatre for the night, and putting on a benefit. Details are still being worked out, but it will be the evening of Sunday, April 20th (yes, that's Passover. Gentile's only!) and I've gotten a lot of positive responses, so it will be exciting. The show is tentatively titled "Cancer's Not Funny...and Neither Are We: An (Almost) Amateur Night of Comedy." The big concern is actually filling seats, but I'm confident that friends, family, and coworkers of not only myself, but of the other performers, should be a relatively decent size for an audience. Plus, it's for charity so you never know who might see a flyer and show up. I'm just excited to get on stage in front of people. It's been a long, long time. Hopefully this is successful, because if people respond to it I'd LOVE to put on a show every few months. There just aren't a lot of places for people who are just starting out to get up and perform, so I may be on to something here.

So, fundraising and running are going well. Class is almost over. By the end of this week I'll be done with my script, and even though I'm sure there will be a need for major rewrites, the hard parts will be over. Everything is under control, it seems.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still in way over my head, but thankfully I'm a good swimmer.

That was a terrible, terrible turn of phrase. I apologize.

... and no play?

You can't tell but their license plate says "Work."

Free!

I like getting mail.

And I like getting free stuff.

Ergo, free stuff in the mail is a glorious marriage of the two.

Dangles told me a while ago about the free samples you can get sent to your house from the Wal-Mart website, and it's a funny thing. The samples they offer are never anything I need, or anything I could ever find a practical reason for ordering. Regardless, I continue to request single-use packages of South Beach Diet granola and Dove hair care. I mean, why the hell not? And since it takes up to four weeks for the sample to get delivered, you inevitably forget about it...so there's an element of surprise in there too.

My parents were here last week. It was good to see them. I think my mom had a much easier time leaving me here...considering the last time she was out here was when they brought me a year ago. When they left I wasn't done with school, had no job, no money, and no place to stay. Needless to say, I was quite proud to show them my accomplishments over the last year. Of course they saw the apartment and met my roommates, and I also brought them by the office. I don't know why, but I was really excited for them to see my work.

Tastes a little gamey

Garfield Without Garfield

http://garfieldminusgarfield.tumblr.com/

the parking lot attendant must love me

there were no girl scout cookies in my car when i left it this morning...but when I got in my car at night...there they were.

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.

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!

when they come... will you be ready?

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.

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.

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:

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.

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.

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.