Tuesday, August 23, 2005
An eyebrow raise to say the least
To anyone who actually 'keeps up' with this thing, do you like reading about my daily life in these depressed, but well represented, journal entries or do you find humorous short-stories (much like the 24hour gym duece story) more appealing? Just a thought. I'm interested to find out. Also, I am the best the ever was, so get over it.
Return of the King
Just as so many times before, the moment has come for my 'triumphant' return to updating my blog, and claiming to become a stickler for improved updates. I shall do my best to maintain a blogger-typing relationship, but like my last three girlfriends...sometimes things just don't work out.
A lot has happened since last week. I suppose the most pressing would be my employement situation. I did take Ewing up on his offer to join his temp agency, a little skeptical of the legitamacy there of, but what do I have to loose right?
This agency was unlike any I have ever known before in that it seemed to have a more professional atmosphere to anything I have known before, let alone a 'sketchy' talent agency. After I met with Ewing's contact on the 'inside' I was asked to take several computer literacy/apptitude tests to challenge my level of basic computer knowledge. Let's just say at the close of the exams I had more 'street cred' than a 16-year-old suburbian girl who hates her parents. I aced all five tests showing scores which placed me into the upper 10 percent of all aplicants. Such acomplishments are always conforting when you fold jeans and t-shirts all day. In the end I was introduced about the office and told I would hear from them very soon. It turns out I was sent to a beautiful high-rise in Santa Monica the very next day in order to file papers at 12 dollars an hour.
Today I was given the opportunity to work in a beautiful high-rise in Downtown LA. I must say, the setting charmed me more than anything. Not only was the building I worked in acceptionally stunning, the atmosphere outside seemed to bustle with the activity of New York City itself. The work was wonderful in that I made 15 dollars an hour to read magazines and write jokes while periodically answering the phone (a total of 8 times in 7 hours). I could certainly grow accustomed to this.
In other earth-shattering news (as I am aware that this entire entry is bordering on trite in its failing ability to provide anything humorous or interesting) I have made my first real friend in the City. His name is Dan, and we first met at a Nebraksa Coast Connection meeting here at CBS television city. Though we met over two months ago, saturday night was the first time we actually hung out as Dan invited me to a party for some of his Peperdine friends in Santa Monica.
I must admit this whole concept of a 'party' had me feeling a little uneasy as I haven't exactly been a 'social butterfly' as of late with the whole lack of friends and everything, so I was a little nervous as to how I was going to adjust to the party scene. For those of you who know me, I will tell you only this: I'm back and better than ever. I turned a group of total strangers, into a group of Moore aficianados who seemed to hang on my every word and action. I must admit it felt good to be back...it was the first time I've been alive since I've been to California.
The addition of Dan to my overall presentation was also flawless. Dan played the role of wingman so brilliantly, his best moments seemed to portray the very stylings of one J Runge-saun on an 'off' night. Dan and I seemed to mesh together so well, many of the party goers assumed we were roomates or best-friends, and couldn't believe it when we explained this was our first outting together. (the entire scenario was much like a moore-runge outting in that we were able to play a wonderful give and take with the crowd, trusting each other's judgement as the game went along. Granted he's no Runge, but he'll do for the time being.)
Other than that, many things remain the same here in Sherman Oaks. My last day at bloomingdale's is Thursday as I prepare to head back to 'the good life' on Saturday for my father's birthday, ryan's wedding, and a much deserved vacation.
It's late now, and I'm tired. I had it coming.
A lot has happened since last week. I suppose the most pressing would be my employement situation. I did take Ewing up on his offer to join his temp agency, a little skeptical of the legitamacy there of, but what do I have to loose right?
This agency was unlike any I have ever known before in that it seemed to have a more professional atmosphere to anything I have known before, let alone a 'sketchy' talent agency. After I met with Ewing's contact on the 'inside' I was asked to take several computer literacy/apptitude tests to challenge my level of basic computer knowledge. Let's just say at the close of the exams I had more 'street cred' than a 16-year-old suburbian girl who hates her parents. I aced all five tests showing scores which placed me into the upper 10 percent of all aplicants. Such acomplishments are always conforting when you fold jeans and t-shirts all day. In the end I was introduced about the office and told I would hear from them very soon. It turns out I was sent to a beautiful high-rise in Santa Monica the very next day in order to file papers at 12 dollars an hour.
Today I was given the opportunity to work in a beautiful high-rise in Downtown LA. I must say, the setting charmed me more than anything. Not only was the building I worked in acceptionally stunning, the atmosphere outside seemed to bustle with the activity of New York City itself. The work was wonderful in that I made 15 dollars an hour to read magazines and write jokes while periodically answering the phone (a total of 8 times in 7 hours). I could certainly grow accustomed to this.
In other earth-shattering news (as I am aware that this entire entry is bordering on trite in its failing ability to provide anything humorous or interesting) I have made my first real friend in the City. His name is Dan, and we first met at a Nebraksa Coast Connection meeting here at CBS television city. Though we met over two months ago, saturday night was the first time we actually hung out as Dan invited me to a party for some of his Peperdine friends in Santa Monica.
I must admit this whole concept of a 'party' had me feeling a little uneasy as I haven't exactly been a 'social butterfly' as of late with the whole lack of friends and everything, so I was a little nervous as to how I was going to adjust to the party scene. For those of you who know me, I will tell you only this: I'm back and better than ever. I turned a group of total strangers, into a group of Moore aficianados who seemed to hang on my every word and action. I must admit it felt good to be back...it was the first time I've been alive since I've been to California.
The addition of Dan to my overall presentation was also flawless. Dan played the role of wingman so brilliantly, his best moments seemed to portray the very stylings of one J Runge-saun on an 'off' night. Dan and I seemed to mesh together so well, many of the party goers assumed we were roomates or best-friends, and couldn't believe it when we explained this was our first outting together. (the entire scenario was much like a moore-runge outting in that we were able to play a wonderful give and take with the crowd, trusting each other's judgement as the game went along. Granted he's no Runge, but he'll do for the time being.)
Other than that, many things remain the same here in Sherman Oaks. My last day at bloomingdale's is Thursday as I prepare to head back to 'the good life' on Saturday for my father's birthday, ryan's wedding, and a much deserved vacation.
It's late now, and I'm tired. I had it coming.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
sometimes it gets to you
Being alone can catch up with you at times. It's a lot like trying to run from someone who is a lot faster than you are. Such is life I suppose.
Brandon just got here today, and Richie, Jeff's friend, rolled in as well AND Goertzen is expected to drop in sometime tomarrow making 7 guys in our two-bed room apartment for the next week. I'm not too excited about that, but I really don't have much I can say.
I suppose the obvious irony in all of this is the fact that I feel so alone, but I am constantly bombarded with people at each an every turn. I want to 'be alone', but on my own terms. I would like to have a place where I can go to get away from everything, but it would appear that this said place doesn't exist for me yet.
I did, however, enjoy the company of my new friend Nicole and her friend Emily. We went to a cool authentic Mexican place just down the street on Ventura. The place was pretty happening, and I must say it was nice to make the company of someone I don't already live with.
I think I might quit my job tomarrow. I really do despise it thus far. I just can't morally find any redeming qualities to selling over-priced merchandise that is supposed to make people feel better about themselves. I think more than that, I'm against how the masses appear so completely oblivious to their foolish behaviors. Such is life I suppose. Ewing is talking noise about a temp agency that can provide some serious income coupled with an extremely flexable schedule. I'm going to play that one by ear and see what transpires.
Thursday was really cool in that I got to be on set for a commercial shot in Encino. It was epic in that I got to be a part of something so incredibly big, for a cast so incredibly small. I would like to do that kind of work. I think I could handle it.
This entry is fairly random in its format, but its very remnant of my brain at this moment. I like that.
Brandon just got here today, and Richie, Jeff's friend, rolled in as well AND Goertzen is expected to drop in sometime tomarrow making 7 guys in our two-bed room apartment for the next week. I'm not too excited about that, but I really don't have much I can say.
I suppose the obvious irony in all of this is the fact that I feel so alone, but I am constantly bombarded with people at each an every turn. I want to 'be alone', but on my own terms. I would like to have a place where I can go to get away from everything, but it would appear that this said place doesn't exist for me yet.
I did, however, enjoy the company of my new friend Nicole and her friend Emily. We went to a cool authentic Mexican place just down the street on Ventura. The place was pretty happening, and I must say it was nice to make the company of someone I don't already live with.
I think I might quit my job tomarrow. I really do despise it thus far. I just can't morally find any redeming qualities to selling over-priced merchandise that is supposed to make people feel better about themselves. I think more than that, I'm against how the masses appear so completely oblivious to their foolish behaviors. Such is life I suppose. Ewing is talking noise about a temp agency that can provide some serious income coupled with an extremely flexable schedule. I'm going to play that one by ear and see what transpires.
Thursday was really cool in that I got to be on set for a commercial shot in Encino. It was epic in that I got to be a part of something so incredibly big, for a cast so incredibly small. I would like to do that kind of work. I think I could handle it.
This entry is fairly random in its format, but its very remnant of my brain at this moment. I like that.
Saturday, August 06, 2005
my life changed
I have just returned home from nothing short of an epic event. The Juice invited me to attend a free concert at UCLA this evening for the Henry Mancini Institute which is an orchestra made up of 84 of the world's top musicians (aged 18-25) There were musicians from all over the world including some of the world's most prestigious music departments. Needless to say they were a talented group of individuals. This evening's event was for world famous film score preformers who have been influencail and who have worked in the buisness. Tonight I was allowed to see the original composer conduct the orchestra through The Incredibles theme, as well as the theme from Forrest Gump and The Village to name a few. These composer/conductors were the true, top of the line, professionals. It was huge to say the least.
I think the most epic portion of the evening was when Juice and I discovered that we were sitting next to one of the original Sienfeld writers. Needless to say, he was cool to talk to.
Other than that, I have a huge tennis match tomarrow morning with the Star City Serpent. (it would be even more of an epic, but Ewing punked out at the last minute.)
I think the most epic portion of the evening was when Juice and I discovered that we were sitting next to one of the original Sienfeld writers. Needless to say, he was cool to talk to.
Other than that, I have a huge tennis match tomarrow morning with the Star City Serpent. (it would be even more of an epic, but Ewing punked out at the last minute.)
Monday, August 01, 2005
Mtv2003? Oh NO! I Don't think So!
So if you were to check the date and time of this post, you would see that it reads,"August 1st 2005, 7:30am!" I'm sure you're puzzled as to why I would be up this early on my day off. An interesting story to say the least, but to quote David Brent "You are the best. Their opinion"
So Kuhns got scouted to audition for the Mtv show 'Next'. I don't really know what the show is about, but it has something to do with him going on a date or something or other. Long story short, after his second audition he was selected to go on this whole date scenerio. Great. Good for him. The plan was for him to be picked up by a limo at 7:00am this morning outside of our apartment. Great.
Last night after a crushing tennis match with Norris (more holds the trouphy for yet another week) I came home to take a shower and lay around 'till Bed-e-bye. Once about 12:30am rolled around, I gave the sandman the headsup and layed my horribly attractive head down for some much deserved rest.
My alarm is going off. My alarm is going off. My alarm is SO loud. My alarm is going off. I roll over to hit my alarm clock to silence. I hit it once, I hit it again, I begin hitting every button trying to get its pulsating unique ring to stop its intervals of annoyance. Only after I realized the alarm was going off in 4 second intervals that I realized it was actually my telephone ringing.
After looking about the room to assure no one had see my emberassment, I picked up the phone to view the dead man's identity(I thought it was TJG, and I was going to kill him) on my caller ID. Upon seeing a unidentified California number, I thought it could be any one of my LA contacts, and I threw on my best 7:00am voice and prepared to hear from my big break.
Blade Miracle has begun to redicule Kuhns. Its become his new game I guess. He enjoys it. For some reason, Justin's phone has the propensity to drop calls frequently. His phone just won't ring and there will be no missed call notification or voice message of any kind. His phone just won't ring. Blade loves it, and calls justin all the time. Just last week Blade, in jest, said "Kuhns, I hope you miss an important call because your phone sucks."
I don't remember what the woman on the other end began speaking about, but about 6 words in, she began about, "from Mtv, and Justin was suppose to be outside 20 minutes ago...do YOU know where he is?" I looked about the room blindly and saw no sign of Kuhns. I got up off the bed and marched through the apartment looking for my roomie when I discovered him standing in the kitchen.
I said into the receiver, "I found him, he's in the kitchen. Kuhns, the Limo is outside." After that last bit of news, Kuhns looked down to his dormant telephone, used a curse word, and began to hustle to slip his shoes on. With my 'Job' done my attention went back to the Mtv exec on my telephone...then it struck me. "So how did you get my number out of curiousity?"
Without hesitation she replied, "Well, Justin listed you as his Emergency contact, and this is an emergency...so" Wow. What an honor. If Kuhns died, I would be notified. I've never felt like more of an adult in my entire life. As kuhns scrambled to get his shoes on, I realized something; I had been complaining since I arrived in California that I was socialy the most adapt creature I've ever met, and If I had the chance to shoot the breeze with some higer-up I would blow them away. I saw my reflection in the hall mirror still in my pajamas with the phone on my ear...the 'A' game so many have experienced and come to fear came back in my eyes..."Let's do this".
I started out slow, still on the subject of Kuhns, but then I began talking about my day's plans, about Justin in General, about Nebraska, what I did the night before, if I'm hansome, how she's single...you know the drill. Moore began to come out, and I had this girl laughing like I was Pryor in the 70s. I could tell she was busy, and needed to get off the phone, but I wouldn't let her. I would send her a quick 1-liner, or a compliment of some sort, and she couldn't get enough. I had her hook-line-sinker and just kept rolling.
When I decided the converstaion could end, I drifted toward calling back or something or other and we began our good-byes (not without me hitting on her one more time). She laughed hard again, and I pushed the 'end' button. I looked at the call time, and I had turned a 30second converstation into an 8 minute social meet-and-greet. If felt really good to practice the old skill, and gave me plenty of reassurance that when the time is right...I can and WILL knock them dead. I just have to wait for my chance to have that conversation or meeting...and they're toast.
Something big is on the way...I can feel it. (Or maybe that's just the morning duece.)
So Kuhns got scouted to audition for the Mtv show 'Next'. I don't really know what the show is about, but it has something to do with him going on a date or something or other. Long story short, after his second audition he was selected to go on this whole date scenerio. Great. Good for him. The plan was for him to be picked up by a limo at 7:00am this morning outside of our apartment. Great.
Last night after a crushing tennis match with Norris (more holds the trouphy for yet another week) I came home to take a shower and lay around 'till Bed-e-bye. Once about 12:30am rolled around, I gave the sandman the headsup and layed my horribly attractive head down for some much deserved rest.
My alarm is going off. My alarm is going off. My alarm is SO loud. My alarm is going off. I roll over to hit my alarm clock to silence. I hit it once, I hit it again, I begin hitting every button trying to get its pulsating unique ring to stop its intervals of annoyance. Only after I realized the alarm was going off in 4 second intervals that I realized it was actually my telephone ringing.
After looking about the room to assure no one had see my emberassment, I picked up the phone to view the dead man's identity(I thought it was TJG, and I was going to kill him) on my caller ID. Upon seeing a unidentified California number, I thought it could be any one of my LA contacts, and I threw on my best 7:00am voice and prepared to hear from my big break.
Blade Miracle has begun to redicule Kuhns. Its become his new game I guess. He enjoys it. For some reason, Justin's phone has the propensity to drop calls frequently. His phone just won't ring and there will be no missed call notification or voice message of any kind. His phone just won't ring. Blade loves it, and calls justin all the time. Just last week Blade, in jest, said "Kuhns, I hope you miss an important call because your phone sucks."
I don't remember what the woman on the other end began speaking about, but about 6 words in, she began about, "from Mtv, and Justin was suppose to be outside 20 minutes ago...do YOU know where he is?" I looked about the room blindly and saw no sign of Kuhns. I got up off the bed and marched through the apartment looking for my roomie when I discovered him standing in the kitchen.
I said into the receiver, "I found him, he's in the kitchen. Kuhns, the Limo is outside." After that last bit of news, Kuhns looked down to his dormant telephone, used a curse word, and began to hustle to slip his shoes on. With my 'Job' done my attention went back to the Mtv exec on my telephone...then it struck me. "So how did you get my number out of curiousity?"
Without hesitation she replied, "Well, Justin listed you as his Emergency contact, and this is an emergency...so" Wow. What an honor. If Kuhns died, I would be notified. I've never felt like more of an adult in my entire life. As kuhns scrambled to get his shoes on, I realized something; I had been complaining since I arrived in California that I was socialy the most adapt creature I've ever met, and If I had the chance to shoot the breeze with some higer-up I would blow them away. I saw my reflection in the hall mirror still in my pajamas with the phone on my ear...the 'A' game so many have experienced and come to fear came back in my eyes..."Let's do this".
I started out slow, still on the subject of Kuhns, but then I began talking about my day's plans, about Justin in General, about Nebraska, what I did the night before, if I'm hansome, how she's single...you know the drill. Moore began to come out, and I had this girl laughing like I was Pryor in the 70s. I could tell she was busy, and needed to get off the phone, but I wouldn't let her. I would send her a quick 1-liner, or a compliment of some sort, and she couldn't get enough. I had her hook-line-sinker and just kept rolling.
When I decided the converstaion could end, I drifted toward calling back or something or other and we began our good-byes (not without me hitting on her one more time). She laughed hard again, and I pushed the 'end' button. I looked at the call time, and I had turned a 30second converstation into an 8 minute social meet-and-greet. If felt really good to practice the old skill, and gave me plenty of reassurance that when the time is right...I can and WILL knock them dead. I just have to wait for my chance to have that conversation or meeting...and they're toast.
Something big is on the way...I can feel it. (Or maybe that's just the morning duece.)
Thursday, July 28, 2005
The best YOU'VE ever seen.
SO I just finished the tennis match of the century. Norris and I destroyed each other for a little over two hours of brutal game-play. It was truely the greatest match since Jimmy Connors toed up against Micheal Chang. Norris the "Star City Serpent" came into the match really tossing some heat across that net, but I must say I, the "Tennis Machine" came through victorious through a number of power serves and skill savvy manuvers.
In other news, I quit my job at Barnes and Noble (I put in my two weeks rather) so I'll be finished with that noise fairly soon. Hopefully my life will come back to being amazing after that point. Just this week has been wonderful since I have started writing and staying out a little later each night. I must confess, I don't care for LA during the day, but at night LA is one of the greatest places on earth. Sure its 80% more dangerous, but it seems like the whole fast-paced aspect of this town melts away, and its back to life. I've started exploring town lately after dark, and I must say it's terribly exciting.
Going off of that, Kuhns and I went down to Santa Monica today. For those of you without a map, Santa Monica is in LA (over the Mts-not in the Valley where I live) so its always exciting to actually go into the 'real' LA. When Kuhns and I hit Ocean Drive looking for the art supply store, we decided to roll the windows down to get a feel for the sea breeze. Sure enough, by the coast the weather is always AMAZING! Today in the Valley it was about 85ish, in Santa Monica it was like 72. It was beautiful. Not to mention the ratio of beautiful women to me was strongly in my favor(I hit on a girl at the art store and got shot down pretty hard, so some things aren't any better on the coast.)
Blade Miracle graduates from college on Saturday. I'm excited for him. I barely remember my graduation. All I remember was how much fun I had. It's hard to believe it was so long ago, and that I actually did it. I told Blade to savor the flavor for me.
Speaking of Blade and the guys, they literally got 'hooked up' with a free show at the Whiskey tomarrow so they are practicing in the living room as I type. This show should be pretty huge for them, so I'm excited for what they do. I hope it goes well for them.
I have so many back stories I need to catch everyone up on, but I never have time to sit down and write them all down. I will...I promise. They all should be pretty funny or interesting at least, so we'll see how it goes.
In other news, I quit my job at Barnes and Noble (I put in my two weeks rather) so I'll be finished with that noise fairly soon. Hopefully my life will come back to being amazing after that point. Just this week has been wonderful since I have started writing and staying out a little later each night. I must confess, I don't care for LA during the day, but at night LA is one of the greatest places on earth. Sure its 80% more dangerous, but it seems like the whole fast-paced aspect of this town melts away, and its back to life. I've started exploring town lately after dark, and I must say it's terribly exciting.
Going off of that, Kuhns and I went down to Santa Monica today. For those of you without a map, Santa Monica is in LA (over the Mts-not in the Valley where I live) so its always exciting to actually go into the 'real' LA. When Kuhns and I hit Ocean Drive looking for the art supply store, we decided to roll the windows down to get a feel for the sea breeze. Sure enough, by the coast the weather is always AMAZING! Today in the Valley it was about 85ish, in Santa Monica it was like 72. It was beautiful. Not to mention the ratio of beautiful women to me was strongly in my favor(I hit on a girl at the art store and got shot down pretty hard, so some things aren't any better on the coast.)
Blade Miracle graduates from college on Saturday. I'm excited for him. I barely remember my graduation. All I remember was how much fun I had. It's hard to believe it was so long ago, and that I actually did it. I told Blade to savor the flavor for me.
Speaking of Blade and the guys, they literally got 'hooked up' with a free show at the Whiskey tomarrow so they are practicing in the living room as I type. This show should be pretty huge for them, so I'm excited for what they do. I hope it goes well for them.
I have so many back stories I need to catch everyone up on, but I never have time to sit down and write them all down. I will...I promise. They all should be pretty funny or interesting at least, so we'll see how it goes.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Worst Night Ever Man.
As many of you know, yesterday was Saturday. The day really started off on the right foot as I inproperly set my alarm clock, only to be woken up by a very polite, but dissapointed Barnes and Noble manager.("Ah, Matt...ah...its ahhh, almost 7...are you going to come in today do you think?) So after a brutal 3.5 hours in the 'coal mine', I headed back to the apartment to get a bite and await Hell...
For me, Hell is not a place of brimstone and fire, but its a place of denim and air-conditioning. The two are alike in that both seemed to be fueled by pain and suffering. bloomingdales could possibly be the worst job on earth. Yesterday I almost just walked out. Rediculous.
Anyway, I worked in Hades until 8:30pm, then headed home. My night was supposed to be exciting in that I was invited to a party in Hollywood. Before you start desperately seeking party pictures on the internet of me three-way kissing Paris and Nicole, allow me to tell you that the party was in Hollywood, it was not a "Hollywood Party". It was an opening for a theatre company that my friend Sean is a part of. He thought it would be cool for me to come down and meet some people in the bizz, and get a feel for the theatre they are creating.
Great. So I get home from a horrible long day of working, take a breather for about an hour, and then I get ready to hit the scene. I left my apartment in Sherman Oaks about about 10:30. Now Sean told me the party was ON Santa Monica...I thought he said it was IN Santa Monica. The two locations are about 20 miles away from one another. So like an idiot, I headed down the 405 to Santa Monica, then proceeded to drive around Santa Monica for about an hour looking for the cross street. It was then that I broke down, put my manhood on the shelf, and called Sean for directions. Sean, ever the gentleman, chuckled to himself and said, "Ah, dude, we're in Hollywood." It was at that moment that I realized, had I had taken the 101 south, I could have been there in about 10 minutes from my apartment in Sherman Oaks. So instead of taking the 405 back to the 101, I decided to take Santa Monica Blvd half-way across town to get to Hollywood.
Santa Monica Blvd was a horrible idea in that they were doing construction all night on the whole street, so there was delay after delay, then a huge concert got out at Hollywood Bowl which I had to drive through which meant people walking everywhere and extremely slow traffic.
After another HOUR I finally arrived at the party. I got out of the car angry at the world, and my legs were also asleep. I pretty much drove from Omaha to Kearney looking for this party and I remained inside a 12 mile radius of where I lived. LA IS AWSOME!
The party itself was pretty cool. I met a lot of girls who were: 1)my age or older 2)actresses/models 3)BEAUTIFUL. I also met one of the head make-up artists for X-men 3, and he told me all about how me had to work all week with Kelsey Grammer. The theatre director also gave me one of the finest compliments I have ever recieved. IT was terribly encouraging in this crazy city.
All in all, my night was pretty lame, but I learned a little more about LA.
What did you think of the night Mr. Little Jeans?
Worst night ever man.
For me, Hell is not a place of brimstone and fire, but its a place of denim and air-conditioning. The two are alike in that both seemed to be fueled by pain and suffering. bloomingdales could possibly be the worst job on earth. Yesterday I almost just walked out. Rediculous.
Anyway, I worked in Hades until 8:30pm, then headed home. My night was supposed to be exciting in that I was invited to a party in Hollywood. Before you start desperately seeking party pictures on the internet of me three-way kissing Paris and Nicole, allow me to tell you that the party was in Hollywood, it was not a "Hollywood Party". It was an opening for a theatre company that my friend Sean is a part of. He thought it would be cool for me to come down and meet some people in the bizz, and get a feel for the theatre they are creating.
Great. So I get home from a horrible long day of working, take a breather for about an hour, and then I get ready to hit the scene. I left my apartment in Sherman Oaks about about 10:30. Now Sean told me the party was ON Santa Monica...I thought he said it was IN Santa Monica. The two locations are about 20 miles away from one another. So like an idiot, I headed down the 405 to Santa Monica, then proceeded to drive around Santa Monica for about an hour looking for the cross street. It was then that I broke down, put my manhood on the shelf, and called Sean for directions. Sean, ever the gentleman, chuckled to himself and said, "Ah, dude, we're in Hollywood." It was at that moment that I realized, had I had taken the 101 south, I could have been there in about 10 minutes from my apartment in Sherman Oaks. So instead of taking the 405 back to the 101, I decided to take Santa Monica Blvd half-way across town to get to Hollywood.
Santa Monica Blvd was a horrible idea in that they were doing construction all night on the whole street, so there was delay after delay, then a huge concert got out at Hollywood Bowl which I had to drive through which meant people walking everywhere and extremely slow traffic.
After another HOUR I finally arrived at the party. I got out of the car angry at the world, and my legs were also asleep. I pretty much drove from Omaha to Kearney looking for this party and I remained inside a 12 mile radius of where I lived. LA IS AWSOME!
The party itself was pretty cool. I met a lot of girls who were: 1)my age or older 2)actresses/models 3)BEAUTIFUL. I also met one of the head make-up artists for X-men 3, and he told me all about how me had to work all week with Kelsey Grammer. The theatre director also gave me one of the finest compliments I have ever recieved. IT was terribly encouraging in this crazy city.
All in all, my night was pretty lame, but I learned a little more about LA.
What did you think of the night Mr. Little Jeans?
Worst night ever man.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Louis XIV
So I saw this Painting at the Getty yesterday...I saw IT! It was seriously about 10 feet tall and 6 feet wide. It was bigger than Gilmore's underpants!(keepn' you in check old boy) I hope to have some of my Getty photos up soon, so keep your eyes peeled.
In other news, there is an 18-year old who is way up on my Jammie. Big deal, I should be used to that you say, but she works at bloomingdales and is always giving me these 'sexy' looks when she walks through my area. I'll be honest with you, she's smokin' hot, but c'mon...she's 18. Everytime she talks to me about 'hanging out' later, and about how "she just doesn't know what she's going to do alone tonight" All I can think about is how she was in 8th grade when I graduated from highschool. Everytime she gives me a look all I see is Tom Anderson's little sister...This isn't Viet Nam, there are rules.
I have an obsession with wobblers. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the craze that is sweeping my apartment (or are just cooler than me), wobblers are pretty much Weebles that Disney ripped off the concept for, and slapped different characters on. There are 50 different wobblers each featuring a Disney Cartoon personality of some sort to commenorate the 50th aniversery or something. Aren't you supposed to get gold for your 50th or something...boy, Disney really took it up a notch and skipped the gold/platinum and went straight to the wobblers...oh who am I kidding, I buy the big friggin' box of Frosted Flakes just to get my hands on 'em. (I think I got like 8 already)
I talked to Brittney tonight for the first time since our "falling apart". It was akward in that I still like her, but I'm glad I actually don't like her. Hmmm. That makes about as much sense as glasses on a cat-fish. Well, after that comment I guess I'm going to go pan-handle for gold. 5:30 comes around so fast.
"I'm Going to quit drinking" he said
Last evening provided a trip down fraternity "memory lane" as I was introduced to a new aquaintance who proved to be 'troubled' at best.
The evening started out fairly shapely as I returned back to the apartment from a day long visit to the Getty Art Center (probably the coolest place I've visited in LA so far) The Getty is pretty much in Beverly Hills, so its just a quick trip down the 405, but I decided to be rock and roll and took Sepulveda home. It was on this Bohemian Rhapsody that I realized it was really friggin hot! I was sweating like a pistol in my swealtering un-air conditioned car, but thankfully the Getty is only about a 20 minute trip despite traffic, so I was home lickity-split.
When I arrived home I found that Norris had complied to my invitation for tennis, but due to my newly frocked frustration with the heat, we post-ponned our game play 'till around 8pm. I took a cat nap on the couch and at around 7:45 I hit the court.
The game was furious as always, with Norris edging me out for the second consecutive game. I left with my head held high however, (I know most of you probably find that hard to believe since I never legitimatly let Norris beat me at anything) and after a much-needed buddy conversation, I returned home to #206. On the way home I realized I had missed a call from Runge-saun so I chatted with him for about 40 minutes outside, just long enough to discover Norris coming home after his shower to hang out.
Norris and I walked in together only to find the apartment reaking of cigarrettes. When we asked Blade about the smell, he replied "They're smoking outside". I assumed he was refering to our neighbors downstairs so I thought nothing of it. When I went to place my keys on the table I was met by a extremely guady hand-bag. It was like a blend of hideous Easter like pastels in a generic plaid pattern. I honestly looked inside only to see if there might be a Cadberry cream egg, or some Jellies. Just then I heard laughing coming from the patio. It was then when Norris and I asked Benji in unison, "Someone's smoking on our porch?" Just then a fairly rediculous guy strolled through the patio door. He was typical LA college guy; blonde, cargo shorts, some sort of short-sleeved button down just a hair too small allowing his 'gut' to peak out each and everytime he reached upwards (which seemed to happen every other moment...I mean, how many times to you need to reach up?)
He was accompanied by some bird who I then realized was the rightful owner of the Easter Bunny's man-bag. We made some slightly akward introductions and I found out his name was Mike, and hers was something else (whooooo cares!) I realized an opportunity to work some new material, so I put on my game face and really worked the room. The bird was all over my game, which was good to know I still had the touch, but was lame because...let's face it, "Must be this pretty to ride" (not like that perv)
Blade decided to take Mike to in-and-out while I chilled out on the couch, took in some tele, and worked this bird just a little more. I guess she was kinda pretty, but not really 'up to par' so I wasn't exactly gaming on her or anything. We chatted for a bit and when Blade came back we popped in Million Dollar Baby to take the edge off.
Speaking of taking the edge off, Mike and the Bird had brought over some brews for some reason or other, but they were actually the only ones drinking(I kicked the habit, Benji was sick, Kuhns tired, and norris and jeff just don't roll like that) So Mike had a few in him when we turned out attention to Clint Eastwood.
Half-way through the picture the affects of Mike's consumption seemed to catch up with at an alarming rate. Mike, a man most of us did not know, walked into our kitchen and began going through our kitchen in search of food. I shot Norris a glance of, "I don't think so", and he replied with "Yeah". Mike asked if we had any food and we told him to come back and sit down. Ten minutes later Mike stood up and said, "I'm going to crash" and proceeded to walk down our hallway to the bedrooms. We all sat wide-eyed wondering if this was actually happening only to all turn to Blade almost in unison as a sort of way of saying, "Blade, get this guy under control." Blade again brought Mike back to the living room. Ten minutes later Mike returned to the kitchen, this time in search of what we believed he described as "juice", but again we told him to come back. By this time there was an akward air in the room as the bird sat there obviously embarrassed of her friend, while we all sat wondering how we were going to get this fool out of our place. Later Mike passed out on our carpet not before unleashing the spawn of hell in the form of Methane gas from some obvious digestive difficulties.
As the film came to a close, we began to turn out the lights, the tele, and all looked at the bird. She picked up the hint and sort of "dragged" Mike up off the floor and told him they were leaving. Mike looked about the room at our discusted faces and headed toward the door.
In standard, "I made a fool of myself in front of sober people fashion" Mike left Blade a message which simply stated: "I have a problem, I need to stop drinking."
Long live the Greek system and its ideals!
The evening started out fairly shapely as I returned back to the apartment from a day long visit to the Getty Art Center (probably the coolest place I've visited in LA so far) The Getty is pretty much in Beverly Hills, so its just a quick trip down the 405, but I decided to be rock and roll and took Sepulveda home. It was on this Bohemian Rhapsody that I realized it was really friggin hot! I was sweating like a pistol in my swealtering un-air conditioned car, but thankfully the Getty is only about a 20 minute trip despite traffic, so I was home lickity-split.
When I arrived home I found that Norris had complied to my invitation for tennis, but due to my newly frocked frustration with the heat, we post-ponned our game play 'till around 8pm. I took a cat nap on the couch and at around 7:45 I hit the court.
The game was furious as always, with Norris edging me out for the second consecutive game. I left with my head held high however, (I know most of you probably find that hard to believe since I never legitimatly let Norris beat me at anything) and after a much-needed buddy conversation, I returned home to #206. On the way home I realized I had missed a call from Runge-saun so I chatted with him for about 40 minutes outside, just long enough to discover Norris coming home after his shower to hang out.
Norris and I walked in together only to find the apartment reaking of cigarrettes. When we asked Blade about the smell, he replied "They're smoking outside". I assumed he was refering to our neighbors downstairs so I thought nothing of it. When I went to place my keys on the table I was met by a extremely guady hand-bag. It was like a blend of hideous Easter like pastels in a generic plaid pattern. I honestly looked inside only to see if there might be a Cadberry cream egg, or some Jellies. Just then I heard laughing coming from the patio. It was then when Norris and I asked Benji in unison, "Someone's smoking on our porch?" Just then a fairly rediculous guy strolled through the patio door. He was typical LA college guy; blonde, cargo shorts, some sort of short-sleeved button down just a hair too small allowing his 'gut' to peak out each and everytime he reached upwards (which seemed to happen every other moment...I mean, how many times to you need to reach up?)
He was accompanied by some bird who I then realized was the rightful owner of the Easter Bunny's man-bag. We made some slightly akward introductions and I found out his name was Mike, and hers was something else (whooooo cares!) I realized an opportunity to work some new material, so I put on my game face and really worked the room. The bird was all over my game, which was good to know I still had the touch, but was lame because...let's face it, "Must be this pretty to ride" (not like that perv)
Blade decided to take Mike to in-and-out while I chilled out on the couch, took in some tele, and worked this bird just a little more. I guess she was kinda pretty, but not really 'up to par' so I wasn't exactly gaming on her or anything. We chatted for a bit and when Blade came back we popped in Million Dollar Baby to take the edge off.
Speaking of taking the edge off, Mike and the Bird had brought over some brews for some reason or other, but they were actually the only ones drinking(I kicked the habit, Benji was sick, Kuhns tired, and norris and jeff just don't roll like that) So Mike had a few in him when we turned out attention to Clint Eastwood.
Half-way through the picture the affects of Mike's consumption seemed to catch up with at an alarming rate. Mike, a man most of us did not know, walked into our kitchen and began going through our kitchen in search of food. I shot Norris a glance of, "I don't think so", and he replied with "Yeah". Mike asked if we had any food and we told him to come back and sit down. Ten minutes later Mike stood up and said, "I'm going to crash" and proceeded to walk down our hallway to the bedrooms. We all sat wide-eyed wondering if this was actually happening only to all turn to Blade almost in unison as a sort of way of saying, "Blade, get this guy under control." Blade again brought Mike back to the living room. Ten minutes later Mike returned to the kitchen, this time in search of what we believed he described as "juice", but again we told him to come back. By this time there was an akward air in the room as the bird sat there obviously embarrassed of her friend, while we all sat wondering how we were going to get this fool out of our place. Later Mike passed out on our carpet not before unleashing the spawn of hell in the form of Methane gas from some obvious digestive difficulties.
As the film came to a close, we began to turn out the lights, the tele, and all looked at the bird. She picked up the hint and sort of "dragged" Mike up off the floor and told him they were leaving. Mike looked about the room at our discusted faces and headed toward the door.
In standard, "I made a fool of myself in front of sober people fashion" Mike left Blade a message which simply stated: "I have a problem, I need to stop drinking."
Long live the Greek system and its ideals!
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
cold november rain
I apologize to all my loyal readers (myself included comes to a total of myself) for lagging in my posts. I have many exciting episodes to catch everyone up to speed, but I just can never seem to find the time to put them together.
It has been a crazy time in the valley as of late. I'm growing tired of waking up each and every morning at 5:30am. I also loath the heat that seems to plague the Valley without any form of remorse. It's been really tough trying to stay positive working two crappy jobs for about 8-14 hours a day, but I'm starting to see some light in the tunnel. Today I met with my first Hollywood friend to discuss some possible 'bizz' related work. In time I should be able to quit my crappy jobs, and work on set with different directors and the like.(I'll tell you more about that in a later post) So things are looking up. On a positive side-I wrote some great new jokes...and hope to hit the stage sometime this month to see if I can't get something like that kicked off. Anywho...it rained today. Something good is going to happen. It never rains in the valley.
It has been a crazy time in the valley as of late. I'm growing tired of waking up each and every morning at 5:30am. I also loath the heat that seems to plague the Valley without any form of remorse. It's been really tough trying to stay positive working two crappy jobs for about 8-14 hours a day, but I'm starting to see some light in the tunnel. Today I met with my first Hollywood friend to discuss some possible 'bizz' related work. In time I should be able to quit my crappy jobs, and work on set with different directors and the like.(I'll tell you more about that in a later post) So things are looking up. On a positive side-I wrote some great new jokes...and hope to hit the stage sometime this month to see if I can't get something like that kicked off. Anywho...it rained today. Something good is going to happen. It never rains in the valley.
Saturday, July 09, 2005
assistant TO the retail manager.
This morning, like any other morning, my alarm wailed its usual bone-shivering song proding me into 'action'. Like a Kodiak bear released from hibernation, I lurched forward from my squirel-like sleeping position only to a standing position very remnant of the third stage of man on an evolution chart. As I moved toward the hallway, my vision still in a slight daze, caused me to collide with the door frame at speeds which resembled the titanic hitting the iceberg.(Rest in peace LEO) My reaction time was only further disrupted by the amazing brilliance of the bathroom light, as it momentarily blinded me creating some sort of Arc of the Covenant affect (-->see "Indian Jones-Raiders of the Lost Ark" for visual reference) as I attempted to relieve myself. When my vision finally returned to normal I noticed I'd better shake a leg if I were to make it to work on time since it was running on 5:45am. Why yes, that is correct; I work at 6:30am every morining, but this morning was special and deserved a few more moments of silent dissapointment as I gazed at myself in the bathroom mirror. For today was to be my first 14 hour day in California. God Bless the USA.
Barnes and Noble proceeded much like it has everyday prior to this one. I walked in, grabbed my scanner, and began re-shelving the previous day's go-backs. This day was slightly different due to the fact I was in a suedo angry sentiment due to an arguement from the previous evening with a lady.(or girl in this case) So intersperced between the songs about drowing someone you love, and bloody knuckles, I finished my carts in almost record time. 10:30 came around rather swiftly as I hit the Barnes and Noble doors without looking back (remember Sodom and Gahmora?). Within 10 minutes I was back at the apartment, within the next 8 minutes I was pulling into the Fashion square Mall's parking facility where I was to park and sprint into bloomingdales for my 11am shift. Despite arriving on time, my efforts were in vain as Diego explained to me in broken English, "You're early to-day, no?" Sure enough, I wasn't due in 'till 12noon, so I returned home to eat a well deserved sandwhich while disscussing the previous evenings engagement with Blade Miracle. (about the girl...I didn't go out with Blade...sick-os)
By 12, I was back on the sales floor. I thought my day would roll on as many of them have before, but today something happened. Despite my desire to quit bloomingdales, my good-natured work ethic garnished a special meeting with Al. It was in this 3 minute private akward festival, that Al told me he was PROMOTING me to my own division and giving me a pay-raise. Why yes, I have only been there for about 2 and a half weeks.
So, now I'd like to quit the job, but I am making MORE money, and I am incharge of my own section of the salesfloor. What is interesting is the comparision to my life to that of The Office. My manager Al, is David Brent. I was promoted, like Tim AND now that I have new responsiblities, I act like I'm important, like Tim. Creepy.
By the end of the day, I had worked roughly 14hours, but was a member of authority. I headed to Robbie Mack's to get some free Pizza from Jeff and sat around with Kuhns talking about my day's exploits.
Gareth Keenan, Team Leader/assistan regional manager (assistant TO the regional manager)
Barnes and Noble proceeded much like it has everyday prior to this one. I walked in, grabbed my scanner, and began re-shelving the previous day's go-backs. This day was slightly different due to the fact I was in a suedo angry sentiment due to an arguement from the previous evening with a lady.(or girl in this case) So intersperced between the songs about drowing someone you love, and bloody knuckles, I finished my carts in almost record time. 10:30 came around rather swiftly as I hit the Barnes and Noble doors without looking back (remember Sodom and Gahmora?). Within 10 minutes I was back at the apartment, within the next 8 minutes I was pulling into the Fashion square Mall's parking facility where I was to park and sprint into bloomingdales for my 11am shift. Despite arriving on time, my efforts were in vain as Diego explained to me in broken English, "You're early to-day, no?" Sure enough, I wasn't due in 'till 12noon, so I returned home to eat a well deserved sandwhich while disscussing the previous evenings engagement with Blade Miracle. (about the girl...I didn't go out with Blade...sick-os)
By 12, I was back on the sales floor. I thought my day would roll on as many of them have before, but today something happened. Despite my desire to quit bloomingdales, my good-natured work ethic garnished a special meeting with Al. It was in this 3 minute private akward festival, that Al told me he was PROMOTING me to my own division and giving me a pay-raise. Why yes, I have only been there for about 2 and a half weeks.
So, now I'd like to quit the job, but I am making MORE money, and I am incharge of my own section of the salesfloor. What is interesting is the comparision to my life to that of The Office. My manager Al, is David Brent. I was promoted, like Tim AND now that I have new responsiblities, I act like I'm important, like Tim. Creepy.
By the end of the day, I had worked roughly 14hours, but was a member of authority. I headed to Robbie Mack's to get some free Pizza from Jeff and sat around with Kuhns talking about my day's exploits.
Gareth Keenan, Team Leader/assistan regional manager (assistant TO the regional manager)
Saturday, July 02, 2005
irony loves company
Some dreams are never meant to be. We look at them from afar and say, "I wish that was my life" or "why can't that be me?" or "I bet he can do like 40 push-ups..." Some things were just never meant to be. Then there are people like me who stare adversity in the face as if to say, "Yeah, this is my bread-pudding, and what are YOU gonna do about it?" Some call me legend, more call me a legacy, but either way...yeah-I am the best.
This whole issue was addressed not more than 24 hours ago when a dream, or a longing rather, was brought to light. I haven't slept in a bed since June 5th. Yeah, you do the math...that was when I still lived in Lincoln BEFORE I moved my bed out and slept on the floor for 2 days. Needless to say, my lumbar hasn't felt the support of coils, springs, or support for an extended period of time. Heck, I've slept on the living room couch since I've been in LA, and even now when I think of it I've also slept on the floor.
Now many of you would see this plight and think to yourself, "I could never get out of that situation, its hopeless, I'll never have a bed". That's what seperates you mortals from your old boy Moore. You see, not more than 24 hours ago Ryan moved out, Jeff moved his bed into the other room, and I was given a bed.
So needless to say, you're now sitting there right now reading this-tears streaming from your eyes as if this is the first time you've seen RUDY, wondering how one could write and live through such a story of persecution and struggle. You think, "Moore you did it! You have a bed! Tell me all about your first night in almost a month that you got to sleep in a bed..."
Well I CAN'T! Why? Because I fell asleep on the couch last night! That's right, I've wanted and dreamed of sleeping in a bed for a month, and when I finally get the chance...I'm watching VH1 at 2am, the next thing I know its 7:30am and I have the couch's floral pattern indented into my skin.
Great work Moore! Idiot.
This whole issue was addressed not more than 24 hours ago when a dream, or a longing rather, was brought to light. I haven't slept in a bed since June 5th. Yeah, you do the math...that was when I still lived in Lincoln BEFORE I moved my bed out and slept on the floor for 2 days. Needless to say, my lumbar hasn't felt the support of coils, springs, or support for an extended period of time. Heck, I've slept on the living room couch since I've been in LA, and even now when I think of it I've also slept on the floor.
Now many of you would see this plight and think to yourself, "I could never get out of that situation, its hopeless, I'll never have a bed". That's what seperates you mortals from your old boy Moore. You see, not more than 24 hours ago Ryan moved out, Jeff moved his bed into the other room, and I was given a bed.
So needless to say, you're now sitting there right now reading this-tears streaming from your eyes as if this is the first time you've seen RUDY, wondering how one could write and live through such a story of persecution and struggle. You think, "Moore you did it! You have a bed! Tell me all about your first night in almost a month that you got to sleep in a bed..."
Well I CAN'T! Why? Because I fell asleep on the couch last night! That's right, I've wanted and dreamed of sleeping in a bed for a month, and when I finally get the chance...I'm watching VH1 at 2am, the next thing I know its 7:30am and I have the couch's floral pattern indented into my skin.
Great work Moore! Idiot.
Friday, July 01, 2005
Mr. 1980who?
Tonight, my world has been changed forever. It wasn't because I watched 'Hoffa' on AMC, or because the full-effect of Daddy Warbucks (also on AMC today) came through to me in a vision. No friends, tonight I was part of what could have possibly been the greatest instrumental supergroup of all time. Joules.
I started out the evening in normal fashion, I came home after what would have been a day off of work, and began watching AMC. Due to my fluent procrastination, I had to also apply for a student loan consolidationn process (which took forever), then I headed out to the boys' CD release show in Venice Beach.
The show was at a place called "the good hurt" which was a pretty sweet venue which came complete with mirrors on the bathroom countertops for your crack-snorting convinience. The bartenders dressed in skimpy black nurses uniforms which did nothing for them but improve their tip count, and apparently smiling was out of the question for them. Despite that stylized 'touch', the venue was pretty sweet. Once the show kicked off...things changed in a big way.
The band Joules took the stage much like the style of Mr.1986. A very little soundcheck as a scarecrow-like guitar player introduced the band. As soon as they struck their first note...my life changed. Joules was Mr.1986 meets Dillinger Escape plan meets Miles Davis. It was some of the most amazing music I've ever heard in my life. They changed time signatures faster than I can change shorts in the men's room. It was absolutely insane. How good were they? So good I would have to tell Mr.Hider that he'd been bettered. They were epic.
The next band was a little too reagae for me, so I spaced them out 'till the boys played. They played a pretty good set, and they even sold 1 CD! Not too bad for a CD release show.
More importantly, I met a beautiful girl who got to see what many kids back home call "a game". Let's face it: midwest, eastcoast, westcoast...Moore's A game is always on.
There is a party going on here as we speak. I have to be at work in four hours, so I'm waiting for some of these slackers to hit the road. We'll see how it goes.
I started out the evening in normal fashion, I came home after what would have been a day off of work, and began watching AMC. Due to my fluent procrastination, I had to also apply for a student loan consolidationn process (which took forever), then I headed out to the boys' CD release show in Venice Beach.
The show was at a place called "the good hurt" which was a pretty sweet venue which came complete with mirrors on the bathroom countertops for your crack-snorting convinience. The bartenders dressed in skimpy black nurses uniforms which did nothing for them but improve their tip count, and apparently smiling was out of the question for them. Despite that stylized 'touch', the venue was pretty sweet. Once the show kicked off...things changed in a big way.
The band Joules took the stage much like the style of Mr.1986. A very little soundcheck as a scarecrow-like guitar player introduced the band. As soon as they struck their first note...my life changed. Joules was Mr.1986 meets Dillinger Escape plan meets Miles Davis. It was some of the most amazing music I've ever heard in my life. They changed time signatures faster than I can change shorts in the men's room. It was absolutely insane. How good were they? So good I would have to tell Mr.Hider that he'd been bettered. They were epic.
The next band was a little too reagae for me, so I spaced them out 'till the boys played. They played a pretty good set, and they even sold 1 CD! Not too bad for a CD release show.
More importantly, I met a beautiful girl who got to see what many kids back home call "a game". Let's face it: midwest, eastcoast, westcoast...Moore's A game is always on.
There is a party going on here as we speak. I have to be at work in four hours, so I'm waiting for some of these slackers to hit the road. We'll see how it goes.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
me without mewithoutyou
This tale of last night's exploits comes after completing my first shift at bloomingdale's. Now let's get something out of the way right off the bat, yesterday was supposed to be my first day of training; videos, register training, store tour, that whole deal, but half-way through completing my paperwork, my manager Al strolls up to me and tells me,"Hey bro, what do you say we skip this today and we get you on the floor?"
I guess my previous sales record is good enough for me to skip a few steps...okay. Little did I know, my boss is actually the hispanic version of David Brent (no joke) from The Office, and he wanted me to believe he was cool right off the bat. This man is hilarious, not in a funny way, but because he still thinks he is young and hip. This is probably going to be the easiest job of all time. The fact remains: Californians are just plain lazzy. I don't think they mean to be, but compared to my midwest work ethic, these people are lazzy!Jeepers.
Back to the story
So I closed on my first day, which forced me to arrive back home at about 9:45pm. That's all well and good, but mewithoutyou was playing a show on Hollywood Blvd, and Blade Miracle and I were planning on going. The show started at 8pm and Hollywood is about 15-20 minutes from my house, so Blade put the peddle down and we reached Hollywood shortly after. Now, if you're unfamiliar with the strip, it is the stretch of Hollywood Blvd where the actor's stars are in the sidewalk, and the location of the handprints in the concrete.(this is also the location of the Kodak Theatre and the home of the Oscars) So Blade and I arrive, park down the street, and stroll onto the strip.
A short discussion between Blade and I lead to our conclusion that neither of us knew where this show was actually going to take place, so further delaying our approach, we walked up and down the strip like a couple of hookers until we found the venue. Once we walked up to the ticket both we realized we had actually missed the band and had made these far travels for really know reason. It was at this moment when Blade and I wondered why there were so many local television crews all filming and interviewing people on the strip. After I asked a policeman, I was told of this not-out-of-the-ordinary LA tale:
There was a 75mph car chase at about 9:30 on the Hollywood strip. Now, if you don't really understand what that means, think of this: Bro Row in Lincoln (the strip of 16th street on UNL campus that runs between all the greek houses) between classes around the noon hour. Imagine a 75mph car chase through that crowded strip of street. That is was happened in Hollywood. The shocking part of the whole deal was that people were like, "hmmm.That was weird.oh well."
Welcome to the craziest place on earth. I was going to try to make this whole story more interesting, but I guess I'm too busy thinking about my new boss.
I guess my previous sales record is good enough for me to skip a few steps...okay. Little did I know, my boss is actually the hispanic version of David Brent (no joke) from The Office, and he wanted me to believe he was cool right off the bat. This man is hilarious, not in a funny way, but because he still thinks he is young and hip. This is probably going to be the easiest job of all time. The fact remains: Californians are just plain lazzy. I don't think they mean to be, but compared to my midwest work ethic, these people are lazzy!Jeepers.
Back to the story
So I closed on my first day, which forced me to arrive back home at about 9:45pm. That's all well and good, but mewithoutyou was playing a show on Hollywood Blvd, and Blade Miracle and I were planning on going. The show started at 8pm and Hollywood is about 15-20 minutes from my house, so Blade put the peddle down and we reached Hollywood shortly after. Now, if you're unfamiliar with the strip, it is the stretch of Hollywood Blvd where the actor's stars are in the sidewalk, and the location of the handprints in the concrete.(this is also the location of the Kodak Theatre and the home of the Oscars) So Blade and I arrive, park down the street, and stroll onto the strip.
A short discussion between Blade and I lead to our conclusion that neither of us knew where this show was actually going to take place, so further delaying our approach, we walked up and down the strip like a couple of hookers until we found the venue. Once we walked up to the ticket both we realized we had actually missed the band and had made these far travels for really know reason. It was at this moment when Blade and I wondered why there were so many local television crews all filming and interviewing people on the strip. After I asked a policeman, I was told of this not-out-of-the-ordinary LA tale:
There was a 75mph car chase at about 9:30 on the Hollywood strip. Now, if you don't really understand what that means, think of this: Bro Row in Lincoln (the strip of 16th street on UNL campus that runs between all the greek houses) between classes around the noon hour. Imagine a 75mph car chase through that crowded strip of street. That is was happened in Hollywood. The shocking part of the whole deal was that people were like, "hmmm.That was weird.oh well."
Welcome to the craziest place on earth. I was going to try to make this whole story more interesting, but I guess I'm too busy thinking about my new boss.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Square peg, triangle hole
This morning's "incedent" happened to take place at the very same local as many of my other memorable moments of Southern California. Why yes, you guessed it; the ill fate that befell me today happened yet again at 24hour fitness. Thankfully today's tale has nothing to do with making a 'duce', but it maintains it's own level of hillarity (or at least its resounding interest struck me as such)
This morning's trip to 24hr began like many of the others before it except for 3 ironic scenarios:
1) While working out late last week I remembered how much I prefer to lift in a tight-fitting running top. It really has nothing to do with thinking I look tougher in something tight (though, let's get honest with ourselves...I do look way tougher lifting in that tight running top) I just prefer to not look like all of the dudes going sleeveless so they can show off their 'pipes' to all the 'whores'. So to wrap up: tight-fitting running top.
2) While working out around 9pm on Sunday evening I noticed that I was sweating terribly as I lifted (due to poor air circulation...thank you Magic Johnson for your contributions to 24hr Fitness) so when I prepared to go to 24hr this morning I remembered to pack my navy blue bandana to prevent the sweat from imparing my vision of the weight room and poor plastic surgery
3) Let's just get honest with each other here: up untill this afternoon, I've been unemployed which had created a lack of zeal for any sort of facial hair removal or shaving on my part. Granted, this little unkempt appearance might have been the very condition keeping me from employement, but none the less, as I left for 24hr this morning, I was about 3-4 days unshaven.
So in review: Tight fitting long sleave running top, Blue bandana worn low on my forehead/over my ears, 3-4 day amount of facial hair all leading up to a grand total of: LOOKING LIKE A TOTAL GANGSTA.
I honestly hadn't made the connection between myself and a skinnier Tupac Sukar until I was doing a set of reverse flies on the "freestyle" machine when a large ex-Raiders lineman approached me and asked, "how many more sets you got...Hommie?"
Now, I would like to make it clear that he didn't just say, "How many more sets you got hommie?" He walked up to me, set his bag down, puffed his chest slightly as a unsaid way of letting me know that he could really say anything he wanted, and said "how many more sets you got" looked me up and down, leaned in and finished with, "Hommie"
Was I scared, Yes. Did I think he was going to hit me, Yes. Did I thug out and tell him I'll be finished when I'm finished...No. I simply said, I just got one more (which was a lie, I had wanted to do another 3 sets, but he was an ex-Raider), finished up my last set, wiped the machine down for the man only to have him loose interest and walk off.
The moral of the story is unknown. It should be something about trying to be something you're not, but that wasn't a bad thing in this case. A large black man called me "Hommie". That was probably the coolest thing to happen to me since I've been out here. At least it tops those dolphins we saw at the beach. Dolphins...please.
This morning's trip to 24hr began like many of the others before it except for 3 ironic scenarios:
1) While working out late last week I remembered how much I prefer to lift in a tight-fitting running top. It really has nothing to do with thinking I look tougher in something tight (though, let's get honest with ourselves...I do look way tougher lifting in that tight running top) I just prefer to not look like all of the dudes going sleeveless so they can show off their 'pipes' to all the 'whores'. So to wrap up: tight-fitting running top.
2) While working out around 9pm on Sunday evening I noticed that I was sweating terribly as I lifted (due to poor air circulation...thank you Magic Johnson for your contributions to 24hr Fitness) so when I prepared to go to 24hr this morning I remembered to pack my navy blue bandana to prevent the sweat from imparing my vision of the weight room and poor plastic surgery
3) Let's just get honest with each other here: up untill this afternoon, I've been unemployed which had created a lack of zeal for any sort of facial hair removal or shaving on my part. Granted, this little unkempt appearance might have been the very condition keeping me from employement, but none the less, as I left for 24hr this morning, I was about 3-4 days unshaven.
So in review: Tight fitting long sleave running top, Blue bandana worn low on my forehead/over my ears, 3-4 day amount of facial hair all leading up to a grand total of: LOOKING LIKE A TOTAL GANGSTA.
I honestly hadn't made the connection between myself and a skinnier Tupac Sukar until I was doing a set of reverse flies on the "freestyle" machine when a large ex-Raiders lineman approached me and asked, "how many more sets you got...Hommie?"
Now, I would like to make it clear that he didn't just say, "How many more sets you got hommie?" He walked up to me, set his bag down, puffed his chest slightly as a unsaid way of letting me know that he could really say anything he wanted, and said "how many more sets you got" looked me up and down, leaned in and finished with, "Hommie"
Was I scared, Yes. Did I think he was going to hit me, Yes. Did I thug out and tell him I'll be finished when I'm finished...No. I simply said, I just got one more (which was a lie, I had wanted to do another 3 sets, but he was an ex-Raider), finished up my last set, wiped the machine down for the man only to have him loose interest and walk off.
The moral of the story is unknown. It should be something about trying to be something you're not, but that wasn't a bad thing in this case. A large black man called me "Hommie". That was probably the coolest thing to happen to me since I've been out here. At least it tops those dolphins we saw at the beach. Dolphins...please.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Perfect time for a catastrophe
Yesterday morning after a joville celebration acknowledging the fact that I slept in later than 7:30am, I proceeded to use the hallway water closet in hopes of preforming my morning constitutional when I stumbled upon the unthinkable: A disaster so devious throughout history it has been the very act responsible for bringing kings to their knees, religious leaders to uncontrolable rage, nations to cival war...Yes, I peered into the hallway water closet only to discover that we were out of toliet paper.
Even at this moment I shutter at this thought of the unthinkable, and even you reading these lines are failing to see the merit in my words. This situation wasn't like seeing Bigfoot walking across a clearing, or a blurry photo of the Loch Ness, this was a true account of what some have already dubbed a brush with fate or a meeting with destiny.
As I saw the vacant toliet paper dispenser staring at me blankly like the view inside an ancient tomb, denile began to fill judgment: "there is more under the sink, we must keep more of it in the hall closet, maybe someone used it as a napkin and the remanding role is sitting on the table." Like trying to find Kennedy's killer, all options proved useless. Suddenly like a lightning bolt cascading through my brain, and idea struck; check Jeff's bathroom. As if I was the star quarterback entering the field before the homecoming game, I poured into Jeff's bathroom. Aside from a high-school era photo of Jeff's family, the bathroom contained nothing but Jeff's parents peering eyes.
If you're famililar with this next sensation, you're not alone, panic can strike at anytime. We call it 'loosing it' the French call it "le panic", but it isn't normal fear like, "Oh man, the Germans rolled over us again I really hope the US can bail us out." It is terror. As I rifled through my belongings hoping to find a blade capable of ending this nightmare I stumbled upon my 24hour Fitness ID. At first I failed to realize how staring at beautiful women while they worked out would help my current predicament, but then it struck me: 24hour has restrooms. My ID, my saving grace, was held close to my heart like a wayward kitten who had thought it through.
Within seconds of my epiphany my sneakers were on and I reached my hand toward the door only to be plagued with yet another fork in the road; run or walk? 24hour Fitness is literally 3/4 or a mile down the street on which I live. I can jog there in less than 6 minutes, but would the jarring up and down of my body force some 'unnatural' results, or do I risk a long walk where, like a pregnant woman, I was do at anytime? As my lower midsection burned with the pains of nature, I was running down the street before I knew what was happening. As an old runner, there are a few tricks to 'keeping your cool' while you're running, but this scenario was perhaps the toughest situation I'd ever settled into. Thankfully, I walked through 24hr's doors with my undershorts still shy of a nuclear rating, scanned my card, stood around for awhile so it didn't look like I had just ran a mile to use the bathroom, and carefully moved toward the restroom.
The last stint of terror occured in the bathroom stall itself, as I reached for a paper seat cover only to read the capation blazen above the paper. "Supplied by the management, for your Protection." I'm sorry, but the last thing I want to have to think about while I'm unleashing a duce, is the fact that I also have to be Protecting myself from only the Lord knows what. Needless to say, I hovered.
Shortly after the smoke cleared in the men's room, I emerged victorious. The problem no became that I couldn't just leave the gym after what I had done because the beautiful women who work the front desk would certainly believe, "Hey, that guy just came in here to drop a duce...what a sick-ie." So I proceeded to ride an exercise bike for 20 minutes to make it look like I was an athlete. Only the mighty. Only.
Even at this moment I shutter at this thought of the unthinkable, and even you reading these lines are failing to see the merit in my words. This situation wasn't like seeing Bigfoot walking across a clearing, or a blurry photo of the Loch Ness, this was a true account of what some have already dubbed a brush with fate or a meeting with destiny.
As I saw the vacant toliet paper dispenser staring at me blankly like the view inside an ancient tomb, denile began to fill judgment: "there is more under the sink, we must keep more of it in the hall closet, maybe someone used it as a napkin and the remanding role is sitting on the table." Like trying to find Kennedy's killer, all options proved useless. Suddenly like a lightning bolt cascading through my brain, and idea struck; check Jeff's bathroom. As if I was the star quarterback entering the field before the homecoming game, I poured into Jeff's bathroom. Aside from a high-school era photo of Jeff's family, the bathroom contained nothing but Jeff's parents peering eyes.
If you're famililar with this next sensation, you're not alone, panic can strike at anytime. We call it 'loosing it' the French call it "le panic", but it isn't normal fear like, "Oh man, the Germans rolled over us again I really hope the US can bail us out." It is terror. As I rifled through my belongings hoping to find a blade capable of ending this nightmare I stumbled upon my 24hour Fitness ID. At first I failed to realize how staring at beautiful women while they worked out would help my current predicament, but then it struck me: 24hour has restrooms. My ID, my saving grace, was held close to my heart like a wayward kitten who had thought it through.
Within seconds of my epiphany my sneakers were on and I reached my hand toward the door only to be plagued with yet another fork in the road; run or walk? 24hour Fitness is literally 3/4 or a mile down the street on which I live. I can jog there in less than 6 minutes, but would the jarring up and down of my body force some 'unnatural' results, or do I risk a long walk where, like a pregnant woman, I was do at anytime? As my lower midsection burned with the pains of nature, I was running down the street before I knew what was happening. As an old runner, there are a few tricks to 'keeping your cool' while you're running, but this scenario was perhaps the toughest situation I'd ever settled into. Thankfully, I walked through 24hr's doors with my undershorts still shy of a nuclear rating, scanned my card, stood around for awhile so it didn't look like I had just ran a mile to use the bathroom, and carefully moved toward the restroom.
The last stint of terror occured in the bathroom stall itself, as I reached for a paper seat cover only to read the capation blazen above the paper. "Supplied by the management, for your Protection." I'm sorry, but the last thing I want to have to think about while I'm unleashing a duce, is the fact that I also have to be Protecting myself from only the Lord knows what. Needless to say, I hovered.
Shortly after the smoke cleared in the men's room, I emerged victorious. The problem no became that I couldn't just leave the gym after what I had done because the beautiful women who work the front desk would certainly believe, "Hey, that guy just came in here to drop a duce...what a sick-ie." So I proceeded to ride an exercise bike for 20 minutes to make it look like I was an athlete. Only the mighty. Only.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Richie Tennenbaum is playing the worse Tennis of his life.
Yesterday, the stars aligned, good and evil were in a bitter stalemate, and everything was beautiful. I'm speaking, of course, of the Apartment 206 Summer Tennis League. The boys and I went to LA Valley College tennis courts and waged war on each other for about two hours of brutal tennis (or about as brutal as one could feel wearing high shorts and holding a racquet) I would be lying if I said it wasn't the sweetest thing I've done in a long time. I whipped up on the Juice and Blade Miracle, and played Ryan for the crown (note Kuhns was not mentioned due to the fact that he isn't good at all and was defeated in the first round of Tourney play) When the dust cleared, not only did I beat Norris in straight sets, but he also go mouthy and conned me into a double or nothing scenario where I cleaned his clock yet another time. Some children just need to be punished.
I still live on the couch which does suck, but I've been sleeping well so I can't complain about that. The living quarters are yet a bit on the side of cramped, but we're all having a good time thus far (thank you Reno 911!)
Last night as I drove through Beverly Hills and onto the sunset strip, I saw my first Ferrari, my first Hooker, and my first drug pusher. Oh what a town. I'm going to go look for a job today. I don't really know where, but I'm going to go look anyway. I'm going to hope for the worst, that way everything will look like a success.
I still live on the couch which does suck, but I've been sleeping well so I can't complain about that. The living quarters are yet a bit on the side of cramped, but we're all having a good time thus far (thank you Reno 911!)
Last night as I drove through Beverly Hills and onto the sunset strip, I saw my first Ferrari, my first Hooker, and my first drug pusher. Oh what a town. I'm going to go look for a job today. I don't really know where, but I'm going to go look anyway. I'm going to hope for the worst, that way everything will look like a success.
Saturday, June 11, 2005
Californianiaian
I sleep on the couch. I don't know my way around town. My only friends are my roomates. I am in California. I guess that last statement is supposed to make all the previous sentances seem ludacris, but it is tough living in such an interesting place knowing things are so much easier back home.
Honesty time, I know you want it so here it is: I miss Lincoln, I miss Nebraska. (it almost looks like I wrote: I Miss Nebraska) I know this home sickness only stems from being in a new place for the first time in my life, but there is some value in those thoughts. Everything was plesant and all around perfect for me in Lincoln...besides the fact that I was miserable. Being the new fish in this huge ocean called 'LA' isn't any better at this point, but its something I have to do so I'll make the most of it.
Things aren't completely unsightly, I did swim near some dolphins in Malibu today. Who would have thought you'd be swimming in the ocean and then all of the sudden...dolphins. Wild stuff. I have to admit it is beautiful country out here. It's nice I guess, but a good old cornfield would beat any ocean view or mountain ridge any day of my week.
Honesty time, I know you want it so here it is: I miss Lincoln, I miss Nebraska. (it almost looks like I wrote: I Miss Nebraska) I know this home sickness only stems from being in a new place for the first time in my life, but there is some value in those thoughts. Everything was plesant and all around perfect for me in Lincoln...besides the fact that I was miserable. Being the new fish in this huge ocean called 'LA' isn't any better at this point, but its something I have to do so I'll make the most of it.
Things aren't completely unsightly, I did swim near some dolphins in Malibu today. Who would have thought you'd be swimming in the ocean and then all of the sudden...dolphins. Wild stuff. I have to admit it is beautiful country out here. It's nice I guess, but a good old cornfield would beat any ocean view or mountain ridge any day of my week.
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