I've been thinking about people from out of state and Los Angeles from two different ways. One, for the first time, I am meeting a lot of people who come from outside of California, and then, of course, everyone inevitably moves to Los Angeles for one reason or another. Because I went to a University of California school, this rarely happened before. Even a couple with Southern acents and everything. Like, what must they have thought when they came here for the very first time? Did they move without visiting? It would have blown my mind. Sometimes it still does.

Like the other day when I realized that the malls near me: the Beverly Center, Hollywood and Highland, the Grove, these aren't normal malls at all. They are these huge exploded shopping experiences with bigger stores, fountains, loud music, sculptures, grand architecture such as giant elephants surrounding the top floor, views of the Hollywood sign, etc.

Beyond the people I've met from out of state, I see tons and tons of tourists. How do these tourists get around LA? Where do they stay? I mean, when I've visited strange towns, I use public transportation. Do they do that here? Don't they get lost and scared or is it just really exciting? I worry for these tourists more than anything; this city is scary to me at times and I live here.

Last night, I was thinking that I shouldn't get sad when I feel like I have no real friends here yet, because even though we aren't close, I've met tons of really great people who seem happy to see me when they do. And they are really great people who I like. Not lame.

I downloaded the three Loony Tunes Golden Collections, each with 4 discs. This means 12 discs of Looney Tunes. I love Bugs Bunny. Why does he keep kissing everyone? And how does he grow tits so fast when dresses as a woman?

Last night, I had to go to downtown Hollywood IThe Egyptian Theater at Hollywood and Highland). In the 30 minutes it took me to find street parking and the walk about mile away, I was honked and flipped off once and recieved four awkward sexual suggestions (3 dudes, 1 dudette). It was awful; I felt like it was the Tenderloin, the Castro, and Telegraph all rolled into one, 2 outta 3 of which I would never walk alone in for that long past ten pm. When I got to my car, I was so worried about tickets or someone keying "FAG" on my car. Instead, I found littered all over the windshield four VIP passes to the Spearmint Rhino Gentlemen's Club. Nice.

This afternoon's music video is:



Time to watch it again and again and again!

Hardly Working

This week was spent hardly making any money while spending too much to amuse myself.

Saturday night, big party with too many s'mores.

Sunday night, I went to Josh Fadem's Acid Reflux SomethingSomethingSomething (I can't remember after acid reflux, it's too complicated) which is another variety-type comedy show. I had to consult with people before I was permitted to attend such a thing alone because Chris was in San Diego. I threw caution to the wind (did I use that saying right? it sounds kinda gross) and went anyways. It is also very close to my house and every Sunday with different people. I'm hoping someday one of those people will be me because it's a nice small space. I submitted online to Garage Comedy at El Cid which is open to new performers, so then I can tell Josh Fadem how I brought the house down/killed/broke a leg at UCB and El Cid.

Monday, open mic, UCB, see below.

Tuesday, Chris and I saw the Prestige. I concluded in my head several thoughts about magic. I really hate most magic. Magicians make me feel really uncomfortable, and I don't have that sort of puzzle-solving brain that ever cares to find out how tricks are actually done. Not that I'd say no to a trip to the Magic Castle; I just probably wouldn't appreciate it as much as others. But, I do love fictional/non-fictional magic and carnival and circus history. See Geek Love and Cavalier and Klay and Freaks for good examples. I also have always had a thing for Victorian England/Industrial Revolution etc. so it was right up my alley. Mainly, what I'm getting at, is I bought the book it was based on too. I also got the Ghost Map book I was talking about for more old-tymy London plague fun!

Tuesday night, we also went back again to UCB for Comedy Deathray (the Tuesday night show's title) with the people behind Home Movies, who also do a show every Saturday midnight at Steve Allen Theater. Chris Hardwick of Singled Out fame (who is actually quite cute and funny and we have the same black velcro Vans), Paul F. Thompkins, and Louis CK also performed. We made a friend in line who we will probably never see again. His name was Kirk.

Every time I feel sad about not having friends lately, I get the Cheers theme song stuck in my head.

Wednesday, Chris and I went to a booksigning for Amy Sedaris' new book about hosting parties, crafts, cooking, etc. I've read about half of it and it's really fun and funny. Like she makes jokes but also has really good ideas. More importantly, just because we actually had some good banter, I was standing next to Robert from Project Runway (season 3, duh). Like we got to talk about Barbie.

Tonight I have to work, booooooooo. I feel like I'm getting sick. I don't think the boy I like cares if I live or die. Awesome! This is boring.

Five Minutes

Once a month at the Upright Citizen's Brigade Theater in Los Angeles that I seem to go to once or twice a week is an open-mic night. People sign-up at 10:30 by putting there names in a bucket, with only ten drawn. As the ten are picked out of the bucket, they sign up for whatever slot they want in that order (so that way, it is somewhat by chance who has to go first). Because more than ten people sign up, some don't even get to go at all. Everyone gets 5 minutes with the lights flashing at 4 minute to warn you and the music at 5 minutes to drag you off stage. Last night, I was one of the names in that bucket, one of the names picked, and the 7th to go up there (lucky number and all, I figured). Of course, while going on stage to jot down my name I tripped a little, and the dude before me stole the pen.

I had planned on doing this about a month ago, but didn't want to invite anyone in case my name wasn't even picked and I didn't want to tell anyone, because, frankly, I am embarassed. I have never had some dream to be a comedian; I just thought it would be a good forum to test out my writing and have immediate feedback, and it would be fun. I got to nervously pace around my apartment for about 12 hours prior, only to watch Chris have a hilarious bout of sympathy nerves for me right before.

The final assessment of the performance was nothing but positive. Chris said I didn't appear nervous (at least distractingly so). The laugh-o-meter (in my head) tied the greatest laughs between myself and two others, but Chris and I honestly think in the end I came out on top for consistant big laughs. The host had nothing but positive things to say about me in his between-set banter. It was ridiculously exciting. I have no idea now what I'm going to do with this. I could find another place to perform in, I suppose. Really, I have no idea. I think now I just need to let all my crazy thoughts settle into my brain.

In other news, I checked out this book of Disney art with disappointing information but great reproductions (as it should; it like is two feet tall and must weigh 25 pounds). All it does is make me want to watch every Disney thing ever. I had to settle yesterday with special features on the Parent Trap dvd. But Maureen O'Hara (the mom in the movie) is quite the looker, if I may say so. The classic Mills, not the Lohan, version, duh. Maybe I will go back to the library today and see if they have any Disney dvds to check out. I really want to watch Pinnochio. Did you know it was the second animated feature from them? I didn't. Also, they have a lot of the Silly Symphonies on youtube (see my myspace for the first and always classic, The Skeleton Dance).

What really sucked is about an hour before I had to leave for the show last night, I found Rob's best friend Alfred writing all these passive insults about me on thefacebook. So I AIMed him about it, asking him to stop. I just don't get why he hates me so much. Rob and I are still friends, so why does his friend get to call me a bitch and apparently worse. Also, I didn't know he felt this way so it came as quite the blow. But I guess now I know so that is good. Not that it really affects my life, but it still hurts. As long as Rob and I are friends, I guess I shouldn't give a shit abotu what his lame friend thinks.

I Like Titles, But I Can Never Think of Them

Last night, Kelson and Travis came over so Travis, a former resident of Koreatown, could show us some local bars where we would not be the only non-Koreans there. This made them the first friends (excluding friends I know through Chris, i.e. Scarlett and Derek) to have visited the apartment. We walked down Western for too many blocks, only to realize that Kelson forogt his id. Despite being Asian (I assumed he'd know a secret handshake or soemthing), his babyface, wide-eyed innocence led the bar to not serve us alcohol so we had to walk alllll the way back. Then I got tired, and so the four of us sat around on the couches and chatted and drank Tecate (I had hot chocolate at this point, I'm just so fucking wild like that) and chatted. It was really fun and nice to just chill with friends, even though I think I am allergic to one of our couches, I can't find my keys, and Travis looks at me like I'm weird. I love that Kelson lives less than a mile away.

Also, last night, Chris and I were arguing over what to get for dinner, like we do. When I was ready to give up, since I had food to make unlike Chris who had run out, Chris said "Come on, it's something we can do together, as an apartment". This is funny because we must spend like ten hours a day together.

Most importantly, Chris and I were driving on the 405 or the 10 and we saw some dude hanging over a freeway overpass tagging the bridge. It looked so scary; he was on the tiniest ledge with cars zooming past underneath late at night. Now, I realize tagging is more about marking territory or defying the law, but also about not dying in the process.

Yesterday, we went to the local library, which it turns out is only like 4 blocks down St. Andrews Place. I am definately on an old animation kick right now, so I checked out some books on that. I am buying my dad this book for his birthday, and it's definately one of those presents I know he will like, but I'm buying also so I can borrow it.



I also am dying to read the book The Ghost Map by Steven Johnson, which is some sort of fictional story about a doctor and a reverand, but set against the very true story of Victorian London's cholera epidemic.



It's Saturday morning, and I have no plans for the eve ahead. And Battlestar Galactica is downloading really slowly. These two facts are sad.

Frankenstein Gives You Donuts

Today, I drove by a donut shop that had a poster of Frankenstein holding up a platter of donuts. Like for your Halloween party, you should order a platter of donuts for your esteemed guests, who will include Frankenstein, if you're lucky. Actually, I don't know what would make a person luckier: if they met Frankenstein or if they met a platter of donuts.

Of course, my Halloween inspiration comes from one of the few celebrities of stage and screen I resemble:

Hi Lauren Miller!

Celebrities (I use the term loosely in some cases; people I turn my head to look at) I have seen thus far, excluding those met in social situations, at screenings, etc. because that's too easy:

1. Dame Judi Dench buying a PSP game at Best Buy
2. Oscar (Oscar Nunez) from the Office
3. Brian (BJ Novak) from the Office
4. TV Guide and Talk Soup's Jon Henson/Jon Henson's Skunk Spot
5. Kate from Lost (Evangeline Lily) at the Beverly Hills, 90210 Post Office

Today, I drove by L. Ron Hubbard Way.

I never realized how complicated the rules of dating are and how they go against my entire natural state of being. Like I thought it was only in movies where one is supposed to wait two days before calling, girls shouldn't do this or that, you don't wanna look desperate, play hard to get, blahblahblah. Whereas in RachelLanderLand, I talk to everyone without thinking, message anyone without questioning how that will be perceived, and basically, just go for it. As Maude said, "otherwise, you got nothing to talk about in the locker room". Now, in the real world, I got rules and restrictions! I gotta read the fine print!

Speaking of the real world, I love how at every stage of life, they omiinously warn you about the next one. Like, watch out, junior high is soooo much harder than elementary school! High school, man, that's a whole 'nother ballgame. College, now that's the real world! No parents! Am I in the real world now? Aren't they all the real world, but just different stages of it with the difficulty of each relative and completely unrelated to the other stages?

In other news, I went to Garage Comedy last night at El Cid and finally met the famous Paul Rust in person. Highlights of the show include the very sincere poet who reminded me of Bob Ross/Mr. Jellyneck, a girl dressed as a guy doing machismo humor with a great repore with a slutty scenester heckler in the audiance, and, of course, Neil and Paul's bit about a college a capella group reunion that ended with them licking each other and screaming. Tonight, I am gonna go to Comedy Death Ray at UCB because Chris lovingly forces me to do these things and it will be fun because Charlyne Yi is in it.

And Michael Showalter has a blog. OMG, we have soooo much in common. I've got a blog, too, Sho, I got a blog too.

I wonder who reads this thing

I just finished pumping some iron at the gym with the trainer dude. Afterwards...:

Him: You should go run upstairs and do 20 minutes of cardio.
Me: That's ok.
Him: You can't or you won't?
Me: What's the difference?
Him: Do you have somewhere to go?
Me: No.
Him: Then you can.
Me: Ok, then, but I won't.

I need to try and make it out to Garage Comedy at El Cid tonight. It's funny, I always wanna say The El Cid, which is redundant in two languages. Also, it's free unless the drinks are cheaply priced in which case, if it sucks, I'll still giggle.

Silliness

I rarely get a chance to watch tv programming in "real time" as it airs unless it is something Chris is watching, since he has the tv. However, I actively am downloading and following these shows during the fall season:

Monday - Heroes
Tuesday - Gilmore Girls, (I know, I don't like to talk about it) Veronica Mars***
Wednesday - America's Next Top Model, Lost, Project Runway (for one more week!!)
Thursday - The Office***, Smallville
Friday - Degrassi: The Next Generation, Battlestar Galactica***

*** sincere favorites and priorities in life

However, Chris bought Stella season one and only on dvd, which somehow means I have to also download all seasons of the State, Upright Citizens Brigade, Wet Hot American Summer, Stell shorts, and all seasons of Mr. Show.

It's a tough job but someone has got to do it.

The job being, having a huge crush on Michael Showalter

Speaking of crushes, I hate it when one is single and any guy who is nice and funny and attractive, I get a crush on. Like in the Breakfast Club, "some of them I consider my girlfriends, and some of them I just consider." I consider many these days. But no dice. Andrew Dice Clay need not apply.

Myspace

Myspace used to be where I kept in touch with Benny and Josh's gang from school - Ari, Steve, Amanda, Erika, etc. Facebook was where I kept in touch with people from Berkeley. I have never "friended" a person on either without having met or talked to them first, unless through some random strange connection. When I met a new person, I would usually wait til we'd met three times before I officially asked them to be my myspace friend (unless, of course, they asked me first). I figured three times was enough that we'd had conversations and that they would remember who the hell I was. And hopefully like me.

Now, though, having moved to a new city, myspace has taken on so much more significance in my everyday life. Everyone I meet I wanna find on there. And actually use it as a means to communicate. So they remember me. So they wanna be my friend.

Today, I was at the AIDS Walk and there was a group of three girls walking ahead of me. They couldn't have been older than 13, and I would guess they were around 10. A woman snapped a promo picture of them walking. One of the girls said to the woman "can you send that to my myspace?"

Weird

I think it's weird/funny how a buncha people like to ask my advice on how to get girls or make friends. Like, clearly, I don't know how to do either. And yet I give concrete advice, as in what actions to take. How come no one does that for me, huh?

PoHo = poor Hollywood

Last night, I went over to Kelson's apartment that he just moved into, which is less than a mile away! This is very exciting, as it seems like the kinda place where there are a lot of people coming and going, and everyone was really nice and interesting. It reminded me a lot of my Berkeley co-op days.

I guess I technically live in Koreatown, which is basically anything off Western Avenue between sandwiched between the 101 and the 10. To the left of me are posh neighborhoods: West Hollywood, Fairfax, Beverly Hills, Larchmont. To the right of me are poorer neighborhoods, heading towards Downtown, Silverlake, Echo Park. Kelson's neighborhood, just a mile away, is a primarily Mexican neighborhood. With just a couple blocks away was a hipsterish bike non-profit and shop, cafe serving the neighboring Los Angeles Community College, and Scoops, a nummy yummy ice cream shop with the nicest owner and unique flavors handmade everyday such as "brown bread" and "mango champagne".

I think it just struck me as such a contrast from some of the other people I've met here. These people bike 45 minutes to work, make there own stuff, experiment with art, cooking, etc. Whereas with my cousin's friends I sometimes feel like the poor, unstylish fish out of water. I guess it's just the Berkeley/Oakland gal raised by upper middle class Jewish yuppies. Oh, the inner turmoil of it all!

JobBlogBlogJob

Let me write here what I do to make money. Not that I make money. What I do to break even. Not that I break even. Anywaaaaays...

I am now on-call as a "site representative" for Real to Reel Locations Agency. What does this entail? There is an office. The office works with property owners who want there stuff in film. Then myself, or say 15 other people, can be called on the set during scouts, prep, shooting, and wrapping on the location to ensure that both the property owner and production are pleased, and make any and all notes of what's fucked up.

For example, my company is known for working with many of the hospitals used. Scrubs was a working hospital that was closed a couple of years back and now is only used for Scrubs. Because of this, there is also an apartment set, coffee shop set, bar set, etc. in this hospital. Because they have total control of the property. Which is why I do nothing when I am there. Tomorrow, I am going to St. Vincent's Hospital downtown while they prep for a Rob Reiner movie shooting there.

It's pretty boring and meaningless. But I am on sets, watching and observing, or doing my own thing. The hours are long, but the pay can be good.

When I am not doing this, I work as an assistant to an independent documentary filmmaker. I'm not really a production assistant, per se, since she isn't currently filming, but I'm not really a personal assistant, per se, because I don't do personal errands for her. She laughed at me when I offered to get her mail and feed her cat when she is out of town, which is often. Mainly, I submit her film to festivals and then work on promoting the film festivals where it is accepted via both print and the web. Sometimes I even get invited to swanky parties which I try and awkwardly get out of. Most of the time I like to sit in her west Hollywood apartment and pretend it's mine, save for all of the hippie stuff and cats.

And there it is, folks.

I Haven't Even Gotten to the Relevant Conundrum

I love how two out of the four characters seen here from Galaxy Quest are, of course, amazing in these roles, but when unveiled behind their makeup and costumes, are Keith Mars (second from left) and Dwight Shrute (fourth from left). I was skeptical, one should be, when there dad tells them Galaxy Quest is a good movie. Little did I know the hidden talent in these here aliens, as they bring me joy and happiness each week on Veronica Mars and The Office. And, of course, I would listen to Alan Rickman read the phone book and still get weak in the knees.

It's so hard to not be self-depricating when thrown into a new city with way too much free time on my hands. Tonight, I said to myself, I give up, it's over. It's impossible to make friends. I remembered in junior high when I won Best Personality and Best Sense of Humor the two years I was there. And Ilan, when told of my strike on friendship, said "with your charm? I doubt it." But how is this personality, sense of humor, and charm gonna shine through the smog of this here wicked little town when I spend my night playing checkers and watching Full House with Chris?

Time to go talk to my stuffed animals.

This Weekend

In regards to my last post, while trying to improve my health and fitness, I have come to realize my lack of either are a detriment to two options for the weekend. On Friday, Midnight Ridazz is doing a 24 mile bike loop from near by place to Echo Park. So including biking to and from the beginning and end points, that's a whole shitload of biking. See previous post where 8 miles wiped me the fuck out for the afternoon. Ten at night? I can ride in a basket and that's about it. Then, Saturday night, Chris is going to Scarlett's Hot Pants Party. In which, of course, I am invited. And yet my foolish old-fashioned modesty and lack of hot party panties prevents me from having any desire to attend. Sheesh, these people, I tell ya! Whatever happened to good old fashioned conversation and drinking while completely immobile??

Hilariously enough, Chris just went to 7-11, bought beef jerky, an ice cream bar, and mini powdered donuts. While out of breath from walking to and from the corner, he says "I got to get in shape, bitch."

I Wanna Get Physical!

So about a week ago I joined the Gold's Gym closest to my house, mainly because it has free and ample parking compared to, say, 24 hour fitness in the ghetto. They love to promote the fact that, despite being about a mile away, they are within the Hollywood border. This makes them the HOLLYWOOD (*spirit fingers*) Gold's Gym. So they get to say stuff like "well, this is Hollywood, blahblahblah."

For example, today I had a personal health assessment with "one of their best" trainers. In fact, his card reads Best Trainer 2004. I think he has been on meth or something since. Because, he was either so distracted that it took him 5 minutes to get out a sentance. Just very spacy and a lot of "ummms" per sentance. I almost wanted to say "this is Hollywood, talk faster!" Even if that doesn't make sense, but everyone else there was saying it. Anyways, when going over my goals to get back into shape, he assumes I want to lose a ton of weight to jumpstart my acting career. Whatever happened to promoting health, fitness, flexibility, self-onfidence, wellness of mind and spirit? Apparently, in HOLLYWOOD, these are unimportant. I must look good first.

Rachel: I would say 15 pounds gone would be great. I think that was about the best I looked and felt about myself.
Trainer: *stares me up and down* Yeah, I think 15 would look really good. But, ya know, if you want to be on camera...
Rachel: No, no I don't. I barely allow a polaroid.
Trainer: *doubtful* Uh huh....uh....duuuur...

A New Crew in Town

I'm a fucking nerd. Nothing makes me happier than this.

My Life on the D-List

Today I went to the doctor's office for a routine 5 minute exam that I had to wait three hours for. Fortunately (or not), they had the tv tuned to Bravo's Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List marathon. I learned a couple new things about Kathy Griffin. First, she is excruciatingly unnatractive. Yet, we see her get botox several times which gives her, in my opinion, the post-op tranny appearance she has. Second, she is not an unfunny person. It is the fact that her stand-up and act is based on insulting celebrities that is unfunny. And it's really easy to make fun of celebrities. Last, women and a few men from various socio/racial/economic backgrounds can indeed bond over Kathy Griffin marathons, celebrity and shopping magazines, and the need for free birth control. It's a beautiful thing.

My bosslady got back from two festivals. I could go to a gala at the fancy shmancy Pacific Design Center this Friday for Outfest. I have no dress, no money for even a haircut, and I would probably be ten years younger and a whole lot less gay than most of the people there. I would rather go to Midnight Ridazz, UCB theater, or wash my hair instead.

The Critic

At work now, i have watched three episodes of the Critic, everyone's favorite Jon Lovtiz-voiced cartoon film critic of yesteryear. I distinctly remembered this one joke where at Marty (Jay's son) goes to the School of the United Nations, and at the school track meet, there is a kid from Eastern Island. He, of course, is just one of those heads. In addition, in two out of three episodes I've watched, there have been Marlon Brando and Al Pacino impressions/mocking.

The battery on my walkie talkie is dead. I am on the opposite side and floor of the hospital where they are filming. I will never know when thye are done.

Dinner

Just for the record, dinner was BBQ chicken, corn, and potatoes. It was set up on the second floor where they were filming and I finally did see the Braffmeister/Braff-o-rama/The Braffhole. However, more importantly to my quest, where and when is dessert? I am now almost on hour 13. Ya know, this Scrubs gig wouldn't be so bad if it was consistant enough to make myself more comfortable. But being here in burts in the time/space continuum make it more difficult to settle in.

Food and Friends (I'll Be Theeere For Yoooou, When the Rain Starts to Somethingsomethingsomething)

At Scrubs for day 2 out of 2 (for now). Been here since 5:30 am, til ??? I was warned it would be 16 hours. I gotta calculate how much money that will be or else I may go batty sometime soon. However, because today is a shooting day, there is food! Let me tell you all about it.

I missed breakfast because I was laying on the couch in my office in a semi-concious state, wanting to smash the walkie-talkie that crew gets with a baseball bat as there were far too many conversations for the time of morning. Plus, of course, I slept like shit, trying to go to bed early to wake up early, but instead waking up several times in the night, and maybe not sleeping again really after 3 am. Again, I was startled by sleeping Derek on our couch. I swear he wasn't there at 2:30 when I went to the bathroom and saw Chris's bedroom light on. However, I smart enough this time to pre-set my coffee maker so I had a good strong brew for the 15 minute drive. Anyways, I was told of omelette bars and crepe stations, but instead I made it at the last 5 minutes for bagels and donuts. Not that I'm complaining, because I'm on a all-carb, refined sugar diet. So I had two donuts.

Lunch confirmed all my dreams come true. The hot food of the day was Cajun-themed with gumbo, jambalaya, shrimp, blackened fish, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and yams. There was an entire station of a variety of cold salads and a regular salad bar. Dessertland had two kinds of cake, many kinds of ice cream, fruit and cookies.

I don't know when dinner is. I just kinda walked out there (food is at the opposite side of the building) and it happened to be lunchtime at noon. When dinner is, it's anyone's guess. I hope there is a Surf 'N' Turf special. Less Turf, more Surf though. It'd almost be as good as a boy taking me out to dinner here but instead of my witty banter, I bring it back into my office and weep into my mashed potatoes (jk! no weeping! just lots of mashed potatoes and self-pity!)

But good news in Friendland is that Kelson, an old friend from Berkeley who I think the last time I saw was at my 21st birthday, moved in 0.9 miles from my apartment! How I want to go to Midnight Ridazz this Friday, but fear the 24 mile route from Hollywood to Echo Park (see all carb, refined sugar diet). Ilan also put me in touch with Aaron Greyson, who I have known for years, but never actually known. However, the limited contact through mutual friends has always been pleasant, and we had good AIM this morning. If anything, him and his girlfriend and other couple of dudes he hangs out with will be good movie watching buddies. I also really wanna make it back to UCB and/or Steve Allen theater sometime soon since they are fun and cheap.

Idioms and Boobies

Today, I was driving around doing errands and I saw a lady wearing too skimpy and young clothing for her age and body-type. And in my head, I said to myself "She is no spring chicken." And I realized I do that a lot. Those sayings that corny old men would say. And how much I love those sayings. So with the help of wikipedia, I learned that these are idioms (as opposed to slang, jargon, colloquialisms, etc.) And they have a list of common idioms that I can now bring more into my everyday language, such as new and old favs:

Their bark is worse than their bite.
Were you born in a barn?
The chickens have come home to roost.
Is the Pope Jewish?
A little bit from column A, a little bit from column B
My dogs are barkin'.
Off his trolley.
To piss in one's Cheerios.

Also, Chris and I played with his X-Box tonight and I was introduced to an entire world of games made by Tecmo. Dead or Alive involves Japanese girls with huge tits in outfits of your choice (which is the best part! Is this slut a schoolgirl where when fighting her skirt will fly up or should we just go straight to the leather bikini?) and then they fight. These same characters, besides fighting, also happen to play volleyball in another game by Tecmo called Dead or Alive: Xtreme Beach Volleyball. These girls are just so talented!

Actually, though, after playing both games for awhile, I really did just want to fight or play volleyball.

Tomorrow again I am working at Scrubs, which for the locations agency I work for sometimes, is a "warm-body" position. Meaning they are contractually obligated to have somewhere there whenever production is going on (3 weeks shooting, 1 week off, rinse, repeat) but we are not encouraged to do anything but sit in a room, eat there food, and if I don't get in anyone's way or ask nicely, watch filming/rehearsal. I did this for a mere 11 hours on Friday. Monday, however, is estimated for 16 hours. So I am prepping majorly for this. There is wireless so that is good. There is a couch for many naps. But this time, I am bringing as much media entertainment as possible. I purchased two magazines at Barnes and Noble, am bringing one of the books I am reading "Special Topics in Calamity Physics" (a bizarro post-modern mystery book of which I am only on like page 100 out of 500+ so no one's dead yet), and downloads of Heroes episode two, Thank You for Smoking, and Bill and Ted's Excellant Adventure. Any other ideas of what to bring?

Chris, this does NOT mean you! See, Chris and I argue everyday when he shoves 30 movies in my face that I'm supposed to watch. I never do though. Kinda just to spite him. But also kinda because I am stubborn and don't like it when people tell me I have to like something. Unless it's Entertainment Weekly doing the telling. Today, I counterargued that having read more books than he has, I don't shove books in his face telling him he simply haaaas to read them. This makes me a better person.

I hope I do something fun for Halloween. AKA get drunk but in a costume!

Sundae

I just rode my bike about 4 miles each way (uphill, in the snow, both ways, at 6 am, everyday) to the Grove, which is the most ridiculous excuse for a mall/plaza/galleria that I go to far too often to admit. It has a trolley that carries you the length of the mall, which is not very big. It has one of those fountains where the water bounces around and you want to play in it but can't. It also has a movie theater that costs like $12. One time it took Chris and I 25 minutes to get out of the parking garage. But it has a Barnes and Noble, which has books and magazines, and food, so unfortunately, it's a necessary evil to attend at times.

The first couple of times I rode my bike that way to the comic book store (you can't go straight through because country clubs get in the way, so I have to kind of go up and around), I was too afraid to listen to my ipod at the same time. But then I realized when I am driving in my car, I listen to music way louder and am probably even less aware of what's going on around me since I am in my protective shell. Whereas when I'm on my bike, I try and obey all laws and traffic signals and such so as to not die. I have no health insurance so my limbs breaking would be expensive.

Here is my playlist from today's bikeride. A nice mix of stuff, if you asked me. I definitely pumped my legs to the phunky beatz more than once.

Get It On - T. Rex
Gotta Get Up - Harry Nilsson
Little Girls - Oingo Boingo
Bossy - Kelis
Good Vibrations - Beach Boys
Don't You Forget About Me - Simple Minds
Sexyback - Justin Timberlake
Shame on a Nigga - Wu-Tang Clan
Collection of Stamps - I'm From Barcelona
Working for the Man - Roy Orbison
I Got Rythm - Ella Fitzgerald sings Gershwin

The Simple Minds song reminds me that Chris, having never seen the Hughes/Ringwald 80s collaborations, watched the Breakfast Club and Pretty in Pink with me last week. Now I was obsessed with the Breakfast Club in junior high and it stands up really well. But, Pretty in Pink kinda sucks! Andy (Molly Ringwald) isn't very nice to anyone. Not her friends, her dad, not Duckie, and not even Blaine. She's really just kinda a bland bitch. Of course Blaine sucks. And Duckie gets the bum deal anyways so it's not even worth him being the best character.

Also, when I was listening to Wu-Tang's Shame on a Nigga I rewrote lyrics a la Weird Al to make it Shame on a Blogga (that's hip hop slang for blogger, k?) It was really good.

I don't want to nap because I have to get up at 5 am tomorrow. But it's Sunday, Chris isn't here, and I biked. Life is reeeeeally hard.

Live Dangerously

That's right, folks, I'm having two pudding cups right now. I like to live on the edge. I mean, what can I say? I'm a wild child. A Wyld Stallyn. Shit, I'm gonna go download the Bill and Ted movies right now!!!!

Kids <3 Pot

In the words of Adam Goldberg's character in Dazed and Confused "Someone's tokin' some reefer." I hope it's those little kids next door. I so wanna steal their games. Really just her hula hoop. I was always so good at that. It may in fact be my one party trick/stupid pet trick.

This blog opens up a whole can of worms! A whoooole newwww woooooorld worms!

Family Matters with Carl Winslow and Rachel Lander

So tonight my parents came up to visit my grandmother and aunt, who both recently had surgery. Hilariously, my aunt's co-workers gave her a post-surgery present (she had some sort of growth removed - I try not to ask too many questions because medical problems disgust me) of a box of two eggplants, fully clothed, and with googly eyes and smiles. The story of the eggplants were that instead of this growth, my aunt was busy giving birth to these eggplants.

Of course everyone likes to inquire about my super thrilling tales of LA life. The proof was in the pudding - it was Saturday night and I was out to dinner with old people instead of awesome, rad dudes. I love everyone I've met here so far. It's just difficult to bond, to take it to the next level, ya know, when you see them once a week or two via bugging the same three or four people who's phone numbers you actually have. Which is funny because I never wanted to do shit in Oakland/Berkeley with everyone because most of the time I was busy hating my life or sitting in my pajamas watching tv on dvd and wishing I was not there. But now that I am here and want to do stuff, I always feel like I'm begging people to hang out with me. It's never sad except really on the weekends or the day after I drink too much, for some reason.

Also, they were asking me why I don't have a boyfriend yet. I apologized for being a heinous beast of a daughter, and promised to go to Muscle Beach to break me off a piece of that (you have to say it in that special way; like Tai in Clueless). Really, I just like talking about Muscle Beach because it makes me think of blond curly 80s mullets and those hot pink tank tops where the armholes go down the length of the torso. I didn't say either of those things aloud really, but my mom is ready to make me a profile on JDATE, which is tempting for mocking purposes only. And to meet my one true Jewish soulmate, duuuuuuuh.

To-Do List

Arts and Crafts need to happen soon. Things I really want to make are:

These complex fist faces (maybe friends with a brown bag puppet and/or sock puppet:


Macaroni art (though more along the lines of Neil and Paul's Forest Warrior than this Fussilli Jerry imitation so we can hang it on the refrigerator):


And, of course, more mini clay food fun (this is not the ones Chris and I made - we aren't that good YET):