Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Stand Up for JJ

So I have this friend, right? Let's call her JJ. To protect the innocent or the not so innocent. She is obsessed with the fact that I threw up in fourth grade. Maybe it was third. Now, as a child I threw up and cried a lot. I was tooootally that kid. I was called to the front office in second grade because I had been crying, nonstop, for three hours. My mother was called, and it turned out I was upset because I couldn't spell something. I was sensitive! I still am! Stop Laughing!

Now the slumber party throw up story was first told to Miss JJ in college. God only knows what year it was and how much beer we had in our system. And I hesitate to retell it because it will never be as funny as the first time I told it. But it goes a little something like this:

I was the new kid, and was invited to Jennifer Sartore's slumber party. The whole female population of fourth grade was, I'm pretty sure. The details of the evening aren't too important, but, suffice it to say, we stayed up way to late giggling. I probably was the first to fall asleep because I am super uncool like that. But that also meant I was the first to wake up. When I did, I could smell the delicious scent of pancakes wafting down the stairs to the basement where we had all crashed out.

Oh wait, tangent! I once woke up at home to the delicious smell of cooking pancakes and got out of bed and ran toward the kitchen so quickly that I blacked out and fell down the stairs. I really like pancakes.

Anyway, I went upstairs and Mrs. Sartore was cooking up all kinds of pancakes. There were fruit ones, chocolate chip ones. It was a huge fucking smorgasbord of pancakes. I sat down, and just as I finished my first serving people started getting up. As I finished my second helping, all the little girls were astounded by how many pancakes I could put away. I finished a third offering and decided I wanted to go lay down. I returned to my sleeping bag, and started feeling not so good. I blame the stress of trying to impress new friends and too little sleep. And too many pancakes. I didn't make it to the bathroom. I threw up right between my sleeping bag and the wall. It was all too much. I was so humiliated I used my sleeping bag to cover it up, layed down and went to sleep. I woke up just a little bit later, surrounded by the girls, Jennifer screaming for her mother. The hits just kept on coming. I was crying. Jennifer's mom was trying to get my mom's phone number from me, but I was hysterical. She had to pick me up like a baby and deposit me in the bathroom upstairs before I calmed down enough to clean up and call my mom. I never went back downstairs. I think my mom must have, to get my stuff and my soiled sleeping bag. I was a wreck, inconsolable. I don't know how I went to school on Monday.

See? It's a terrible story. A poor awkward girl makes a laughingstock of herself. Maybe JJ likes the story because I'm so different now than how I was as a child, but that isn't true. I just cry a little less. Maybe it's because we all felt a certain amount of embarassment as kids. I think mostly, she just likes the phrase, "It was all too much and had too many pancakes."

Happy Birthday

And please write my college recommendation soon!!!!

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Free Shit on Amazon

So the real trap of the Kindle is the free content.Oh, sure, you can get the classics for free, but what about new stuff? Well, you get what you pay for. "My Soul to Lose" was my first mistake. I didn't find out it was a Teen Harlequin, and just the first forty or so pages until after I downloaded it. But I read it. It was about a girl who could sense when people were just about to die. And when she would see this person, who was about to croak, she would scream uncontrollably and freak out. This happens at the mall and our main character is taken to the mental hospital. Some basic mental hospital things happen (i.e. cool roommate, bad doctor, weird food, hot guy) and then the thing ENDED. And I could not look myself in the face if I bought this piece of tripe. So I spend nights thinking about how it could have middled and ended. Found out last week there are two more in the series. Oh. My. God.

My second mistake was "Snowbound." I'm not putting in author names to protect the guilty. And I can't be bothered to reload the books and find out who they are. Imagine, if you will, being the young inspired teacher who is driving her Mathletes back to Portland Oregon from a long division competition, and hitting a blizzard in the mountains. Her nerves are frayed when they find a lodge in the forest whose owner is willing to put everyone up until someone can come and dig them out. The Lodge Owner Dude is a veteran suffering from PTSD. I mean, who isn't these days. Iraq and his love of children (GAG) fucked him up so badly that he must now be alone in the mountains with his thoughts instead of the famous engineer he was in his previous life. Teacher and LOD fall in love while taking care of naughty high schoolers for the weekend. Duh. And then there is some sort of misunderstanding when she gets back to the city that makes them not talk for a while. Then he gets therapy and she moves in. The End. Horrid. Read it in like 5 hours.

I'll leave my third mistake for my next entry....Paranoia, by Joseph Finder. Awful.

Monday, October 5, 2009

Crazy for the Storm: A Memoir of Survival

Just as a reminder to how personally lazy I am, I like to read about people who, like my sister, insist on going outside and being sporty. Norman Ollestad is one of those people.

My friend, LW is a high powered executive assistant at Warner Brothers and this book is being made into a movie. She suggested I read it the day before my Kindle got here, so it won the prize of first reading. Written simply and directly, Ollestad relives his eleventh year as if were yesterday instead of 1979. On Februaly 19th of that year, he was in a plane crash with his father and his father's girlfriend on his way to a ski competition in Big Bear. He had competed the day before, but drove back down to Santa Monica for a hockey game he was in that night. See? Really insanely sporty. The kid also surfs.

So the plane crashes and the kid has to walk down a mountain by himself to safety. It makes for a very interesting story. But the true art of this book is in the structure. The crash is woven through all kinds of other memories about his father and growing up on Topanga Beach, a little pocket of leftover hippies during the 70's. His father's insistence on physical activity of all sorts, the pressure of being a talented but pushed kid, and the struggle of figuring out the difference between what you want and what you parents want are all pretty standard themes, but when placed in juxtaposition to the incredible act of willpower that was Ollestad's survival of the crash, I was pretty glad his dad had been so tough on him. It saved his life.

I think I should probably point out at this point that I probably won't be putting out many bad reviews. If I finished it, it was good. Just wait, I have read some reeeeaallly shitty books and still loved them. So this is no exception. The writing didn't roll my socks up and down but the story was riveting. And true, which is also awesome. Now, I will go to my windowless gym and get on the elliptical for 37 minutes, because that's how sporty I am.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Books Books Books

I got a kindle. And I loooooove it. I have read 19 books on it so far, so I thought I would change the tone around here.

(Update: Cosmetics sucks. I took a paycut of 50% and am now stuck behind a fragrance counter with no one to talk to, so I read. On the aforementioned Kindle.)

I am writing book reviews. I never have before, but it seems like a good use of my workday. I have the last 19 to start with, so I'm going for an every other day thing at first.

My first review is of the Kindle. Stephen King was my deciding factor. He basically said a story is a story no matter how you read it or hear it or see it. So the Kindle is just another REALLY CONVENIENT delivery system for books. OMG, you wouldn't believe the fervor and outrage this purchase has caused in friends and strangers alike. Turns out people feel really threatened by something that isn't a book. People who never read start getting up on soapboxes and singing the praises of bound pages, and the smell of the paper, and the turning of the pages. I repeat: most of these people DON'T READ regularly. The only exception I must mention, is my librarian friend, who for obvious reasons, isn't a fan. So this is my question; if I love the feel of a heavy phone handset and the purr and whirr of a rotary dial, why in the world would I own a cell phone? The do the same thing, right? Well, yes, but technology has mad advances that make calling people easier more efficient so I use THAT instead. Hey my house is full of bound media that I love but now I can carry 6 books with me at one time, hell, 1500 books, and it all fits in my purse. Waaaay more efficient. So stop acting so superior about your love of the printed word and pick a book and prove it.

The one downside is that I can no longer lend my books out. But I'm trying to figure out how to jump that hurdle. It involves buying a Kindle, friends, so save your pennies. A special thanks to my family who all pitched in with Amamzon Gift Certificates for my Birthday. Best. Gift. Ever.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

This was written on 5/12

I know. I know. It's been forever since we've talked. So much to cover and so little...ambition. Let's start off with today.

PR, my friend and photographer and co-worker came back from disability today. And my heart nearly leaped from my chest!! I was so happy to see a friendly face in the crowd once again. She just wemt through severe shoulder surgery, and I'm so glad she's healthy. And we immediately made a date to do some photos and play with my...

NEW KITTEN! On Sunday, I adopted a new little 9 week old kitten. His name is Wayne. And it turns out everyone hates that name. Even me, a little. But it turns out it really fits him somehow. And he looks like a bat. Thus the Bruce Wayne reference. Also calling him Lil Wayne is hilarious.

The best part about adopting Wayne was being utterly irresponsible. I totally ditched work, saying I was going to lunch, instead going all the way to Santa Monica and mulling over rescue cats for TWO HOURS. I never pull that kind of shit with work, but I really have been at the end of my rope. People were looking for me and The Boss finally called my cell, knowing I was probably cat shopping. I ended up bringing the new little boy back to work with me and he lived in The Boss's office for two hours while I finished up my shift. Thank god Wayne is so cute and won The Boss over, otherwise I could have been in deep shit for walking out on work for almost 3 hours. Oops. And as much guilt as I felt driving back to work with a howling kitten, it was mostly about getting trouble. I didn't care about leaving my co-workers in the lurch or missing sales. It felt great to rebel and be irresponsible and not be so careful and rule driven all the time.

I am looking forward the Lost Finale.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009


So every 6 months there is a mother of a sale. It's called friends and family, but if these crazy bitches were either of those things I would eat a handful of rat poison. And this year, it is half as lucrative, which makes it EVEN LESS bearable. The whole idea is to make a ridiculous amount of money to make up for the years it takes off your life in stress. Last year I rang about $50,000 or 4500 in commission. If I make $35,000 this year it will be a miracle. That is a $1400 pay cut for yours truly. Hells yeah!

And starting in June, I will be living through a pay cut of about $10000 a year. And my man just got his weekends, which were overtime heavy, cut entirely. And we owe the IRS $3000, due to general assholery at my man's studio. AND our Bank of America credit card just sent us a letter that basically informed us that we needed to call them if we didn't want our APR to go to 22%. So we called. Which was kind of a big deal, since we usually throw that kind of fine print credit card mail away. And we get to keep our 4% APR. But if we use the card it goes to 22%. Translation: they just closed our fucking credit card for no reason. We doubled the minimum for years, carried a balance and were never late with a payment. Obviously we fucked up. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

So things are well at the ranch. Maybe I'll get skinny, due to lack of food affordability. Thank God I can get Clarins Body Lift free around here.

And I'll have to get more self-disciplined about this whole acting and writing thing, because classes sure are off the table for the moment. Wow. Being terrifically talented and toiling in obscurity is sure getting overrated.

Note to self:
I should have spec scripts on file for: Law and Order, House, How I Met Your Mother, and suggestions....? Then I would just have a packet I could force on every lit agent in the city. Or I could order a cocktail and mime another cigarette....

Friday, April 10, 2009


Ok. The full moon has brought out the best and worst recently. I have learned a lot.
1. It is easier to get up in the morning if you keep repeating "Things are getting better" rather than "Everything will be fine."

2. I completely obsess when I feel like someone I love is upset with me. I also get outlandishly angry and 7th grade about the whole thing. Thanks to those who let me rage.

3. I have almost fully become a "character." I get great joy entertaining others with my bitter sarcasm, mimed cigarettes, and full (not mimed) martini gesturing. Too bad she's just a figment of my imagination.

4. Jo Malone has a new body scrub. Get into it.

5. Acting lesson: Assume you are being seen and heard by the audience. They aren't as stupid as you think they are, Jan.

6. Tattoos are weird.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009


Things may be looking up. It looks like the sweeping changes in the cosmetic department will happen in May. I will be line assigned, and if all goes as planned, I will be on a line that I really like, all by myself, with friendly bosses on the vendor side. All this news makes me almost happy about working. I think it will be a great change for me, and renew my spirit a least a little. My own little domain to lord over sounds good to me. Now, I just have to live until May and not eff anything up.

Also. With the good comes the bad.....thirty of my co-workers will be out of a job. And no one is hiring. So that will suck. Keeping a job is important right now.

Monday, March 30, 2009


Well, it's been a while. So mostly to get to the top of JJ's Blog Roll, I am updating. Things have been crap-tacular at work. My best bud was laid-off, as was another good friend in my area. They both had tardiness and absence issues, but mostly, if you work at my job, you better watch your ass. Any infraction that got passed over before will now get you kicked out on your ass. And just you wait, Henry Higgins, it's gonna get worse.

Things I am thinking about:
Taxes are going up April 1st. Sales tax will be 9.25%, I think. I should have bought a car this week. Oh Well.

I am getting tattooed on the 8th. I'm not sure it's worth the money, but I think my street cred will finally improve.

I should be doing more for my acting career. If I wasn't such a flibberty-gibbet, I would be doing mailings and more workshops. But I'm poor. Because I'm getting a tattoo. Which will also ruin my acting career. If I had one. Which in all frankness,I don't. So woo-hoo for finally giving the finger to the man at 34 years of age.

Two of my besties (yes, that is the name of my BFF list on Facebook) are moving at the end of April. *heavy sigh They will be missed and I wish them the best best best.

My right ear is really dry.

My Grandad wrote his autobiography. It's riveting. I'm hoping I can compose an email of thanks to him that is as concise and articulate.

I'm not sure what to get my husband for his birthday.

Kittens. I didn't volunteer at the shelter today, but I'm thinking about them. And tiny ones that want to come and live with me. Big congrats to EM, who has a new one coming to live with her this week!

Going to the Getty later for a snotty opening. Looking forward to the sound of my heels on that sandstone. I always feel like a supermodel there.

Do I always sound like a bitchy drag queen?

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Mollie's Thursday

Some of you may have heard about my sister's dramatic day in Bozeman MT, so here is the story as I know it. There may be slight embellishments, but those are just for me.

So, my sister lived directly behind the three buildings that blew up due to a natural gas leak. She was getting in her truck when she heard the boom and bricks started raining from the sky. Her truck saved her life. She went to check her house, and all the windows were blown out and on the floor, and there was no sign of the cats. Nina, a six year old Hemingway cat, was not a major concern, but Nooks, the elderly tomcat hasn't been able to jump very well lately, so he needed to be found before the winter storm came and temperatures dipped below zero.

The area was cordoned off as the gas line was still on fire...and still, is I Mollie couldn't get back to her house or her vehicles. The local news had an interview with her pacing up and down the street with her empty cat carrier. She said she really felt like the crazy cat lady character in an apocalypse movie. This is a downtown area in a small town, and there are very few residents, it's mostly just businesses. So she ended up at the City Hall, listening to press conferences and neighborhood rescue committees with the building owners. The basic information they had was the power was going to be out for days, the street closed off and the area evacuated until the gas lines were deemed safe. Mollie contacted animal control, spoke to search and rescue, and finally she told a fireman that she had to go back in for the kitties. At about 4pm someone finally listened and a firefighter named Keven escorted her and her landlord into the debris covered block. She entered the house and Nina was in plain sight, and even made an effort to run around to evade the cat carrier. And dear old Nookses was under the bed. There was no fitting his fatness into the carrier with Nina, so Mollie cradled him tight and Fireman Keven took the carrier and they took off. The house where Moll lives is over a hundred years old, and there is some concern the structure might be compromised, so they were only allowed to be there for a minute. As they came down Main St. everyone was so happy the crazy cat lady found her babies. The crowd at the police line applauded.

There are still quite a few problems to overcome, obviously, but the cats are safe. The rest is just stuff. And homelessness. She might have to find another apartment, and right now everything she owns is probably being snowed on, but mental health has been saved with just the rescue of two little animals. We'll figure the rest out later

Wed, 3/4

Well. Today I read a Stephen King novel. At work. During a week when we're supposed to have business. It's slow. But I seem to be ringing enough. My nemesis has stayed mostly out of my way and management is finally filing a report on her. The Boss is going in for another face lift and nose shave on Thursday and keeps asking me if I'll come over while he's bandaged. I keep telling him I'm not squeamish but he makes it sound like I have no idea what grossed out is until I see him mummified.

In my efforts to reach my Girl Scout Monthly Goals, I have to look for alternate employment. Tonight I am going to a meeting for a Westwood One affiliate (that's radio, kiddies) looking for new on-air voices. We'll see what that means, but maaaaaaan, I would love to do radio stuff. It could very well be a scam. I think this because I found the listing on Craigslist, and I somehow think careers found there are unsavory in some way. But then again, before I met my man, I thought Trader Joes was gross and for hippies. I hope I'm wrong like that. I love TJ's now.

Edited to add: I left my keys in the ignition and the headlights on all day, so when I left early to go to this thing I ended up having to call AAA and wait...and i missed the meeting. I'm aiming to make it to the Sat morning one. Fingers crossed.

Friday, February 27, 2009


OK so here is the story:
So Husband comes home late one night (Oct 8th, if you must know)drunk off his ass. The door is double locked, so Wife had to get out of bed, hope the three kids don't wake up, and open the door that Husband could not unlock. An argument ensued. Wife went back to bed. Husband dragged Wife out of bed by the legs. She hit the ground and maybe hit her head. At this point there was some punching and kicking on both parties parts. Then Husband shook Wife and then Wife said I'm calling the cops. She did. And hung up mid-call. Did she drop the phone or did husband rip it out of her hand and throw it back into the bedroom or at Wife? Only Zeus knows. The cops show up. Wife is crying, Husband is taken into custody. There are no injuries documented, and arresting officers took no pictures. The next day, Wife goes down to the police station and tearfully gives her statement which is basically the same as above.

Cut to: Feb 26 in court....
The only evidence we are given are the testimony of Wife and Detective, the one she spoke to the morning after the incident. The opening statements promised drama and suspense. Violence and roller-coaster emotions. What we got was a bunch of bullshit. Wife got on the stand and denied everything. According to her there was an argument about something she can't remember but otherwise absolutely nothing happened. She called the cops as a threat and then dropped the phone accidentally. Fantastic. Typical victim stuff, and for good reason. Protecting the guy who pays the bills and the father of her children makes sense. The Detective basically reported the statement that Wife made that morning. He handed it in, looking at the incident report, but not actually speaking to the arresting officers about the arrest. According to Detective, she was very upset and cried by the end of the story.


That's all we got. No other witnesses, not even the arresting officers. We were sent to deliberate with JUST THAT. Several jury members commented on the lack of awesome that was the prosecutor. I was elected foreman. Because I'm like that. When we all sat down at the table, there was one guilty, three undecided, and eight not guilty. The undecideds were the first to go down, me being one. Basically, there simply wasn't enough evidence to convict. And Wife obviously lied, whether it be to us or to the cops, so her testimony was useless. And if her testimony was useless, then even her statement to the Detective needed to be thrown out. Which left us with ZERO evidence of any kind. And you have to presume innocence, right?

So then there was just Maxine (aka Mrs. Sonnenbergersteinson, and the one I thought I would totally agree with.) When we realized she was the last one standing she and I started referring to her as Henry Fonda. Maxine. OOOOhhhh, Maxine. In her seventies and an attorney of intellectual property, she was not going to go down with out a fight. So suddenly it was my job to get her to go along with the rest of us. And her point was valid: we all could assume that Husband had some inappropriate contact with Wife and he should pay for it. And as the daughter of a DV advocate, put the perp AWAY is the rule. The best part was when I asked her, "Henry Fonda, what would you need to say 'not guilty'?" The ATTORNEY at the table, Miss Maxine, needed to be reminded about burden of proof. She gave in. She admitted there was not enough evidence. I wrote out the verdict.

I think we were all extremely disappointed. In that room, there were more than 5 people whose life had been touched by domestic violence. You find out way too much during jury selection. We had two victims of violence, and one of the guys wife had been in an abusive relationship for years, and one girl spoke about her father in a way that would make your blood run cold. This shit is an epidemic. Where are we leaving this family? Nowhere. We couldn't stand up for a wife who couldn't stand up for herself. And there was no one at that police station the morning after the incident who could talk about counseling or victim's rights or any number of other programs or city, hell, state and country offer to help women who are in just this pickle? Have we sent her back to a home filled with threats and violence, a place where it has now been proven that calling the cops is the WORST option? I hope not. The system failed here. The prosecutor needed to go back to law school and learn how to run this kind of case, because there are hundreds of these things. And law enforcement, I understand you are underpaid and overused, but isn't there a way to make sure that this sort of thing is dealt with in a way that promises a little bit more safety and security than just throwing Husband in the drunk tank for the night? And a better answer than an uncaring justice system that does nothing to care for the health and well-being of the entire household? I know this rant is idealistic and very possibly naive. I don't live in east LA, I am not Hispanic and I am not raising three children on my husbands meager wages. I am not callused to these kind of cases in the same way that the system I saw at work is, but I would bet there is a better way than what I was a part of today.


Anywho. I went to get a gin and tonic. I'm sure I'm leaving all the good stuff out, but I'm all out of writer-ness. I'll see if I can't leave more bonmots at a later time, but for now, it's timw for Formosa.

Thursday, February 26, 2009


Another break. Is this thing going to get thrown out of court? Am I going to have to go back to work tomorrow? Why are all bailiffs bald? Why are all clerks fat black dudes?

now: 4:50pm at Delancey with chardonnay...
We were released to deliberate starting tomorrow at 1:30pm. With this group it could go either way. All I know is I'm going with Mrs Sonnenfeldenstienerson, she's a million and a lawyer so team her.

2:42 pm

I was chosen, but this case looks like it will be very fast. Hiker-lady was chosen as well, but I had to wish a sad goodbye to Kal Penn and my nasty stalker Riva. But in exchange, I'm working on a decent sized interest in the defense attorney and one of the translators, who is wearing an off purple suit. The defense attorney is super smug. He and Rachel Maddow could have a really intense Smug-off, where they throw superior one-liners at each other for hours. It would definitely be about stamina.

My legs are sore and I have a cough. Neither of those facts are related. And no, it's not because I suffered a compound fracture in Tunisia, or am wheelchair bound in the real world. The golden ball of light in my gut, as giving and magic as it is, has taken its price. Thanks CP.
Edit:OOH, not for the cough, CP, that is entirely my fault.

1:20 pm

I have arrived. I forgot to brush my teeth. Gross. But I thought I'd share a little tidbit the prosecution laid on us yesterday when he questioned the jury. His hypothetical: If a brother and sister got in a fight and the sister took a fork and stuck it in her brother's thigh and then he called the police, got his sister arrested, and then later dropped the charges, should she still be prosecuted for battery? This story was so whacked out the judge had to stop the prosecuter and rephrase for him. I guess what he was getting at is that it is within the law to prosecute even if there is no claimant. The correct answer is, if you want to stay on the panel "Whatever the law says, sir. I would consider all the evidence to the best of my ability and judge with a fair mind." But all of my fellow jurors started asking questions like "How deep did the fork go?" and "How did the brother get to the police station?" As usual, about 7 idiots rot the barrel.

We're going in momentarily. And the first thing they'll do? Send people home. All the way here just to turn around.

And I guess my co-worker has been calling out all week, during Beauty Week, so the evil is getting way too many sales for my taste. But I want to stay!!! I love jury duty!


The tension is palpable. What will happen when I return at 1:30pm?

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

4:20 duuuuuude

So we have to come back tomorrow at 1:30. They haven't cut anyone, I'm still juror 7. Can't wait for more dramatic turns at the Hollywood Superior Court.

3:35 pm

So selection has begun. Of course, I was called in the first 12, seat 7 to be exact. After the break we will find out who is excused. It's a domestic violence case. Heavy sigh. Prostitution sounded like so much more fun.

1:20 pm

So we're back. I went home. I got fast food. I chillaxed. I drove my man to work. Now actor-turned-assitant-turned-VPofProductionorsomething is looking more and more like Kal Penn. More Racism. Hiker lady is back and replacing Persian/Russian/PossiblyLatino Lady is Madame Green Coat. She's a reader and a redhead. Two things I like in a person. She also has a nice LV bag. I'm super happy with my table, but I'm sure we'll have to get up and line up in a certain order and all my friends will be gone. Creepy dude was laying in wait in the parking lot, but I outsmarted him by checking my phone and waiting for him to get ahead of me. He almost took a chair at the table but I typed to my friend EM on gchat and he drifted away.

Big ups to BLin!! Thank you so much for sending me things in the mail!

Almost 11 am

There are rumors circulating that the judge is not ready for us and we might be released for lunch soon...and not have to return until 1:30. I have decided the Persian might be Russian. She keeps looking annoyed at the sound of my typing. Jury Clerk (Jeremy, btw) has just informed us we have to wait. Shocker.

This courthouse has only three courts and only one needs jurors today. There are about 45 of us. What are my odds? Let's see, like 1 in 4? Less really. Not to shabby. We will most likely be hearing a misdemeanor case....prostitution is what I'm hoping for.

No Longer Looking Over My Shoulder dude's name is Riva. Eww.

10:10 am

Well, now that orientation is complete I am pretty sure looking over my shoulder dude is going to turn up outside my apartment later this evening. I am pretty sure assistant guy will protect me from him for today but I really hope LOS dude finds another object for his affection when break is over at 10:30. I am also considering lunch. Should I go down to Tamarind Deli? That is my current thought, but I could just go home, it's 10 minutes, for crying out loud. If you can imagine, this is so way better than working. A testament to my sense of civic duty or a cry for help?

Oh! Actorman has turned into assistant guy. He pulled out his phone log, which I know from several drunk rants with Miss LW, is the assistant's most important tool. At least at Warner Brothers. So his earlier script reading was misinterpreted on my part. Actually, the jeans and navy blue jacket combo should have given him away. And the Versace reading glasses. God, what was I thinking? Was it because he was Indian (dot not feathers) that I assumed actor? Has Slumdog Millionaire seeped into my racist subconscious to that degree?

Oh great. Complainy Persian woman just took assistant guys seat. "It's so cold in here! This is so slow." And here comes Mr. looking Over My Shoulder. He's just standing/pacing near my table. Oddly, he too is wearing the navy jacket/jeans combo. But it's not cut e like my protector, assistant man. Who is back! And stole creepy weird LOS dude's seat. Now. To get rid of complainy persian.

9:10 AM

Looking over my shoulder guy just gave me the "Hey, what's up?" Ew. I adjusted my wedding rings. And typed this.

2/25 Jury Duty Edition 8:45 AM

What could be more boring than a blog about Jury Duty? Well, tuck in kiddies, because this is my plan for the day. So far, I have arrived, on time. My backpack has my laptop, my diet coke, and a book, The Northern Clemency by Philip Hensher. Also my script for class, Streetcar Named Desire, by Tennessee Williams. I also have assorted make-up. For any beauty emergency.

So I am assigned to the Hollywood Courts, a building on Hollywood Blvd at Bronson that I must have passed 234 times in the last 12 years and never once seen. Way to observe, right? The security area was a breeze and the jury room has a capacity of 55, with a little desk/table in the back just for me. And my three friends, actorman, hiker-lady, and looking over my shoulder dude. I am right next to the women's restroom for the aforementioned beauty emergencies and have discovered the free wi-fi. Hold on kids. This is just the beginning.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009


In a shocking turn of events: work is slow.

It has been repeatedly stated that I need to do stand-up comedy. I would first like to state that only the foolhardy would ever do that to themselves. AND if I were to start on that adventure I would have to hone what I think is funny about myself to a fine edge. And I'm not really sure what exactly is funny. And is what I think is funny what other people will laugh at? My own poor self-concept screams, "You have no idea what's funny! You are constantly surprised when people laugh at you! Because the truth is they are laughing AT you!!! Because your tired little stories are the most boring shit anyone has ever heard of!!!"

And then I go to a couple of acting classes recently where that voice is referred to as the parrot on your shoulder that should just be ignored. The coach in my viewpoints class kept hollering, "Anything is POSSIBLE!" in my ear. My improv teacher kept saying, "There is no wrong idea!" My husband tells me he'll support me in any endeavor. My parents think I'm approximately 40% more talented than Meryl Streep. So what the fuck? Where am I getting all this bad information? Why am I stuck in the same internal dialogue that I was when I was 20?

Maybe it's because living the positive life is a cheese ball/hair brained idea. It's not realistic and it's not funny. It's too sincere and too clingy and everyone thinks you're full of shit. Isn't there a happy medium? Can't I love myself and still mock everyone else who loves themselves? Hypocrisy is my middle name! I can be late but no one else can be! I am above the law!

I have lost my train of thought due to selling two of Shiseido's Bio-Performance Restoring Cream. What a great cream for dry, mature skin. Use with a little serum, Clarins Double Serum would be my choice, and it will go right into the skin without leaving any residue.

Hmm. OK. So what are my comedy skillz? Making fun of myself? Telling stories about what a huge nerd I was in my childhood? Yelling at bitches in Beverly Hills? Backstabbing bad actors with my gay friends? (OH SHIT KATHY GRIFFIN I'S ABOUT TO STEAL YO MATERIALZ!!!!) If I were to write a stand-up act where the hell would I start? I'm not smart enough to be an executive transvestite explaining the history of the world.

I need a catch phrase.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009


In this new era of hope and pride in our country, I would like to point out the greed and insanity of the cosmetics customer. We have a line around the block because they heard we are giving away one free item due to a class action lawsuit from 1997. These crazed hags have nothing better to do with their time than stand in line for a half an hour to get a free mascara? Really? I would pay $23 not to stand in line. And on top of it all, there is no actual business so all of the employees in here are just leaning on the counters watching the bitches grab their scented body lotion. It's a lesson in patience.

1/19 (A couple days ago...)

Well, the company lost 1100 employees last week. Six of them in my department. They took out an entire line, so minus 4 people right there. And so much for cheap hip color. The email that was sent out by the president of the company was a tough one. We're losing all matching funds for our 401k, and any students that were using our college education program will be paying for school themselves now. The company is also cutting costs by more than 50% in 2009. That means 50% less product to sell, which means a 50% pay cut for those on commission. Which SUCKS. I am pretty jealous of those who got laid off. But at the same time, I know that in this economy it's smarter just to hold on to what you have. But spending forty hours a week to make half of what I was making before seems like a huge waste of time. Especially when my time is at such a premium right now.

I am working on the beginning of a novel and really enjoy doing it once I've started. But starting is the challenge. There are so many justifications for not sitting down at the computer. I also have learn to work when my man is home.

I have gotten involved in a new improv experiment that will start shows in March. It's super fun to spend my Sunday beating people up in slow motion. Also, it's good to throw everything I've learned about improv out the window and to just have fun!

I met with my dietician last week and we started a plan for eating better. Unfortunately, she is pregnant and due in two weeks, so oh well for a lasting relationship. Wah Waaaaaa....Anybody have any good low carb meal ideas? I'm growing weary of meat and cheese and veggies already.

Steppenwolf classes start in just a couple weeks. I think I want to do some comedy.

This week is inspiring. I am looking forward to celebrating MLK day with my friendenwolves tonight and Obama's inauguration tomorrow with tiny Jasper. WE DID IT! I'm with the Obama girls: That speech better be good!

Thursday, January 1, 2009


Well, it's a new year. And with it comes a renewed sense of well, something. Besides all of the weight I will lose, the novel I will write, and the full-time acting gig I will attain, I also hope to be a little happier, a little less stressful, and generally a little more adventurous.

The economy is still in the toilet, but I have found recently, that the more I ignore the news, the more money I make. The Boss says to hold on 'til the spring as Cosmetics is being restructured. Instead of straight 9% commission we'll be hourly plus 3%. Will we be assigned to a particular vendor? Will everyone be on the same pay rate, or will there still be artists on just hourly? Will I make less money? So many questions...

I basically need to do everything in my power to get a new source of income. I need to think outside the box. Can I find a way to bring home the bacon without working 9 to 5? What are transitional ways to work less for more money? Can I find a job that is more challenging and more fulfilling, or are all jobs just a means to an end and populated with idiots? Let's hope not.

I wish everyday was New Year's, overflowing with energy and promise. Let's see how long I can keep up this frame of mind. Here's to resolutions!! Viva la resolutiones!

PS Chanel Waterproof Eyeliner. I like the charcoal color. It stays on for days.