#5. We didn't get the house. It's gonna be another Christmas in our 550 sq. foot apartment with a shrub for a tree and Ambient Fire on the television.
#4. We have to be at our accountant's office at the ungodly hour of 9:00 AM on Saturday. Which means I have to be up at 7:30 AM along with the paperboys and homeless people collecting cans.
#3. Because of reason #4 I can't go out and tie one on with my friends tonight to wash off the week. No one can handle being hungover in their accountant's office. Not even me.
#2. I have to return a pair of shoes to Nordstrom at The Grove. I'll probably go after the accountant appointment. Which means after I get the fabulous news that I'll probably have to file an amended return and owe the government a gabillion dollars, I then have to dodge fifty thousand teenagers with designer bags and even more mommies with strollers the size of cadillacs just to get into the mall. (Run on sentence anyone?) Don't get me wrong, I love The Grove, just not on a Saturday afternoon when every person in Los Angeles heads over there.
#1. I still haven't made a hair appointment because I'm trying to conserve dough right now, so I'm still walking around with three obvious grey hairs AND roots. Two more weeks and I'm going to have to start wearing a schmata on my head like Britney.
I am however looking forward to reading more of The Kite Runner. I finally picked it up last night and was so engrossed I fell asleep with it on my chest.
Happy Friday ya'll.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Redskins
After watching this video I think I could become a Redskins fan. Even though their name couldn't possibly be more politically incorrect, unless there's an NFL team I don't know about called the Black Sambos.
Football is the only sport I can stand to watch on TV. (Besides gymnastics and cheerleading, which are in fact sports, but just not in the same way.) Baseball puts me to sleep. Basketball they score too often to get excited. Soccer they don't score enough to care. Football is the perfect contact sport that keeps the viewer constantly entertained.
And it's a perfect excuse to drink beer on a Sunday morning.
When does the season start again?
Football is the only sport I can stand to watch on TV. (Besides gymnastics and cheerleading, which are in fact sports, but just not in the same way.) Baseball puts me to sleep. Basketball they score too often to get excited. Soccer they don't score enough to care. Football is the perfect contact sport that keeps the viewer constantly entertained.
And it's a perfect excuse to drink beer on a Sunday morning.
When does the season start again?
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
And Now We Wait
We submitted an offer today on another house. It's in a better neighborhood than the last and is about 300 square feet bigger. However, we offered WAY under asking price. They say it's a buyer's market. We shall see.
We spent all day Sunday house hunting and doing laundry at my parents house. Pathetically, it's like I'm still in college. I go home to do my laundry because I just can't bear sitting in a laundromat. If and when we own a house I think I'll still be a lazy laundry doer, but at least when it piles up to the ceiling, I can take it in shifts to my own laundry room and sip wine while it dries. God help my future children. I can just see me saying, "Are you sure that's dirty? You only wore it to one soccer practice!"
Work is finally starting to pick up. June was as lively as a retirement home where Kevorkian makes rounds. Now the advertisers are starting to shoot their fall campaigns. My favorite commercial right now is this:
My company didn't do it, but it's a great spot. And a great Flaming Lips song.
Lindsay Lohan was arrested this morning on suspicion of DUI and cocaine possession. Does anyone care? I didn't think so. So why is it the top story of every single news broadcast? What is going on in our society that Paris and Lindsay are the leading stories and not how many soldiers have been wounded or killed in the last week? I live in Los Angeles, and know a lot of people in the "industry". I've heard stories that would make your head spin but luckily I haven't had to deal with anything too severe.
Well unless you count the time one of my directors got the hiccups in the middle of a Campbell's Soup commercial and we had to stop shooting for an hour and fifteen minutes, the length of time it took him to finally get rid of them. Everyone on the set was running up to him with their own "cure," including the wardrobe lady who asked him to cluck like a chicken.
Or the director I worked for who refused to continue shooting until some diet peach Snapple was brought to the set. Apparently craft service had every flavor BUT that. I was sent to the nearest store to pick some up and when I returned, (covered in sweat,) the director ripped it from my hands and said, "OK, now let's continue folks. We don't have all day here!"
My personal favorite showbiz (working) memory was on the set of a commercial starring Ed O'Neill. I was a lowly Production Assistant at the time and we were shooting on the back lot at Universal Studios. I got a call over my walkie that said, "We need a PA to go pick up Ed. He's lost somewhere around New York." (For those of you unfamiliar with Universal's lot, there's a large section devoted to just NYC streets where exterior shots are filmed.)
The funny part of this was, we weren't shooting ANYWHERE NEAR "New York" and since I was brand spanking new working on sets, I really didn't know my way around either. So guess who they ask to fetch Ed? Moi.
I take off running, (like any good PA) looking for Al Bundy in New York City. It took me about fifteen minutes and I found him, wandering like a lost puppy, scratching his head and looking really panicked. When I got to him I told him who I was and that I was the one assigned to guide him back to set. I apologized and told him that it was quite possible we'd get lost on the way back too since I had only worked at Universal twice. He could not have been nicer and kept thanking me for "rescuing" him. What a sweetheart.
If only they could all be that nice. And directors wouldn't throw their production designers in the trash can. Or throw punches. And wardrobe designers wouldn't throw hangers at their assitants. And executive producers wouldn't throw phone books at their secretaries. (All true stories.) If they could all be like Ed O'Neill on that fateful day where I rescued him from the barren streets of Manhattan, this would be a much nicer industry.
A girl can hope can't she?
We spent all day Sunday house hunting and doing laundry at my parents house. Pathetically, it's like I'm still in college. I go home to do my laundry because I just can't bear sitting in a laundromat. If and when we own a house I think I'll still be a lazy laundry doer, but at least when it piles up to the ceiling, I can take it in shifts to my own laundry room and sip wine while it dries. God help my future children. I can just see me saying, "Are you sure that's dirty? You only wore it to one soccer practice!"
Work is finally starting to pick up. June was as lively as a retirement home where Kevorkian makes rounds. Now the advertisers are starting to shoot their fall campaigns. My favorite commercial right now is this:
My company didn't do it, but it's a great spot. And a great Flaming Lips song.
Lindsay Lohan was arrested this morning on suspicion of DUI and cocaine possession. Does anyone care? I didn't think so. So why is it the top story of every single news broadcast? What is going on in our society that Paris and Lindsay are the leading stories and not how many soldiers have been wounded or killed in the last week? I live in Los Angeles, and know a lot of people in the "industry". I've heard stories that would make your head spin but luckily I haven't had to deal with anything too severe.
Well unless you count the time one of my directors got the hiccups in the middle of a Campbell's Soup commercial and we had to stop shooting for an hour and fifteen minutes, the length of time it took him to finally get rid of them. Everyone on the set was running up to him with their own "cure," including the wardrobe lady who asked him to cluck like a chicken.
Or the director I worked for who refused to continue shooting until some diet peach Snapple was brought to the set. Apparently craft service had every flavor BUT that. I was sent to the nearest store to pick some up and when I returned, (covered in sweat,) the director ripped it from my hands and said, "OK, now let's continue folks. We don't have all day here!"
My personal favorite showbiz (working) memory was on the set of a commercial starring Ed O'Neill. I was a lowly Production Assistant at the time and we were shooting on the back lot at Universal Studios. I got a call over my walkie that said, "We need a PA to go pick up Ed. He's lost somewhere around New York." (For those of you unfamiliar with Universal's lot, there's a large section devoted to just NYC streets where exterior shots are filmed.)
The funny part of this was, we weren't shooting ANYWHERE NEAR "New York" and since I was brand spanking new working on sets, I really didn't know my way around either. So guess who they ask to fetch Ed? Moi.
I take off running, (like any good PA) looking for Al Bundy in New York City. It took me about fifteen minutes and I found him, wandering like a lost puppy, scratching his head and looking really panicked. When I got to him I told him who I was and that I was the one assigned to guide him back to set. I apologized and told him that it was quite possible we'd get lost on the way back too since I had only worked at Universal twice. He could not have been nicer and kept thanking me for "rescuing" him. What a sweetheart.
If only they could all be that nice. And directors wouldn't throw their production designers in the trash can. Or throw punches. And wardrobe designers wouldn't throw hangers at their assitants. And executive producers wouldn't throw phone books at their secretaries. (All true stories.) If they could all be like Ed O'Neill on that fateful day where I rescued him from the barren streets of Manhattan, this would be a much nicer industry.
A girl can hope can't she?
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