A Happy Dog AND A SoTM

Woo. I've been like a regular blogger here of lately. So I have a f'in awesome SoTM, (for those of you that may be new, this is "Song of The Moment"), but first I want to start with my happy, happy doggy.

My doggy is loving our new living situation. Like loving it. She's so happy and always smiling and it makes my heart pitter-patter.

Hopper and her new campanion and housemate, Cillian, just love each other. Every morning when I open the door to my room, she exits under my feet and finds Cillian, always giving her big wet kisses. They usually run around together for a little while, much to my downstairs neighbors dismay, and with tails wagging and tongues panting, choose their respective toys. They lay down by each other, figuring out all the things that are cooler about the others' choosen toy.

My dog hasn't been this happy since before I moved to NY. It confirms that she loves living with another dog, and makes me feel that much better about my desicion to move her and I across the country. She loves the weather, and is getting used to hanging with me on the porch while I do my coffee and internet routine.

So speaking of my coffee and internet routine, this morning I opened the big window on the porch so I can hear my music. This is a first for me, but definitely something I'm going to do more often. I love the big windows in my new place. I love how open my new place is.

Well today I decided to listen to music because I found this amazing song last night, and need to be surrounded by it right now.

I found this song after reading about a fan contest for the Junior Boys. The contest was for fans to make a music video to one of the songs on the new album:




















I came across the winner, and to say the least, I was impressed. So impressed actually. This is a fan made video. And the song freaking took my socks off. I encourage you to listen. I usually don't like this kind of music, as I've said before, electronic music is not my usual cup of tea. But this takes electronic music to a very pop level, with the lyrics that burn your brain and heart:

"Cos in the morning
There's a million years to choose from.
You don't care
Just take one.
Leave a place to rest on."

If that doesn't sell you, check out this f'in video. Just awesome. Awesome. Keep in mind, this is fan made. I aspire to be so awesome.



Excuse me for being a dork, but ya'll, (reading Pamie's blog is rubbing off on me, I never say "ya'll"!), I want to see the editing timeline for this one. I'm just stumped!

And now, just for fun. One of my favorite vids of all time: U2, "Windows in the Sky" v.2

Disappointment (You Darn Spoiled Brat)-Take 2

I'm through all the stages of grief. You witnessed anger in Lost. A walk around the block took care of the rest. Now I'm at acceptance. Begrudged acceptance.

Someone in the blogosphere did not like what I wrote in my other blog. They refused to post it. In fact, they went to such great lengths to ensure my epic post would never be read, they disconnected my internet at the exact moment I was trying to post. Now I wonder if I should rewrite at all. Of course I will, or attempt to recreate my well-crafted post, but it hurts. I'm at a loss when I get the window that says so nonchalantly, "We're sorry, but we were unable to complete your request."

Oh yeah? Excuse me while I jump out of the window. Pressing "Back" did nothing as well, and didn't there used to be a "Recover" button somewhere? Well not anymore, you fine folks. Not anymore.

What do professionals do in such a humbling moment? Cry? Is it okay to cry and weep? Because I want to cry and weep. Is nausea normal?

Where did I begin before? Oh yeah, disappointment. Ironic, eh?

Disappointment. Well, I didn't get that job I had so badly wanted. Who cares if I thought I had nailed the interview. Obviously, they didn't. This was the event that threw off my day yesterday. And it was supposed to be the best day ever.

"You never get a job after your first interview, Betsy."

"There will be other jobs, Betsy."

"It'll work out for the better, we just can't see it yet, Betsy."

I am lucky enough to have beautiful people in my life that can see the positive when I only see the negative. Everyone needs those people. I usually am one of those people. But not when it's my phone that doesn't ring.

My phone not ringing takes me back to a short thing that I wrote years ago. "I Know Why My Phone Doesn't Ring". It takes me back to my youthful woe-is-me phase.

I know it seems silly that I'm so upset about not getting this job. And I know that I said I wasn't expecting to get it. But I am and I was. I thought I had done it. Surpassed the whole starting from scratch thing that people have been telling me I'm probably going to have to do. And this only heightens the anger I have towards myself at screwing up that other perfectly good opportunity and greatens the embarrassement I feel, when I said that maybe screwing up the other job, that that was for the better after-all.

A learning experience I suppose. You can feel like you got the job, but it doesn't mean you did. I can't help but analyze my resume and every word spoken in the interview, finding my flaws that the not-so-potential employer did.

So my evening was disappointing. And why am I a self-proclaimed brat you ask? Because I let that ruin a great opportunity I had. Well sort-of.

****PLEASE DO NOT COPY AND PASTE ELSEWHERE****

I got to go to the WB Lot to visit a friend that is currently working on a show there. Sure it would be great to see her at work, but it was no secret that I had Gilmore on the brain.

I got on the lot, no problem. They had my name and gave me a little visitor pass that I immediately stuck in my pocket for safe-keeping. I got to set and she gave me a tour. They had just broken for lunch and she was going to give me a quick little tour before she had to go back. She had on all her equipment, so it was pretty clear she was working. Hence, we had no problems exploring otherwise not-so-visitor-friendly places. She first took me to the old Friends stage, which, since being torn down, offered little to no nostalgia. It was very cool though. Then we went to the stages of Gilmore. Only a few art department people were around and my friend entered without a second thought. I was glad she was assertive, as I kept wondering, "Are we supposed to be here?"

We looked around, seeing the Gilmore Mansion and Rory's apartment, filled with boxes labeled with stuff like "Clothes", "Books", and "Kitchen". My friend walked me towards where someone was working and I noticed he was painting a "Bon Voyage Rory" sign.

Anyway, we walked around some more and finally made our way to the back-lot. Again, my friend surprised me with her audacity, as people were everywhere setting stuff up for what seemed to be something taking place around, or maybe in, Luke's. It was here we saw Alexis Bledel. She ate her lunch alone, at a table by Luke's and seemed a little unhappy. I'm sure this was nothing more than just being tired at work, (as we've all experienced), and still having a long night in front of her. Other than a glance in her direction, we left her alone.

It was time for my friend to get back to set so she could practice the Steadicam. This is where, if anyone was on the tour yesterday, (Thursday, April 5), you may have seen me! Woo! A couple of tours stopped by us and my friend, who was wearing the Steadicam, demonstrated a little bit. Hello to anyone who might have stopped!

After she was called back in, I was left to my own devices. I watched them shoot a little bit, but then made my way back to the back lot. They had finished shooting at Luke's and were moving to what seemed to be either the Gilmore house or Sookie's house. There were lots of black tarps, as it wasn't dark yet, so I couldn't make out exactly what they were doing.

While on my bench, Lauren passed by on her bike, twice! I was trying be nonchalant, like I wasn't jumping up and down to catch a glimpse of her. I was text messaging, or pretending to, and looked up at her, smiling at her for a second pretending like I hadn't known it was her all along. Well, she looked a little uphappy as well. Same syndrome as Bledel probably. Her's also seemed to be a defense mechanism, as to ward off anyone from talking to her. It worked in my case. I got to see her again, so that was cool, but in my head, she was supposed to stop and talk to me, inviting me to come watch them shoot. Yeah, I know I'm demented. Honestly, I really just wanted her to smile or something. Because I had fantasized about my time on the lot so much, it was easy to be disappointed. But geez, all I got was a glare. (And yikes was it a glare! Daggers people. Daggers.) Yipee.

I was trying my best to stay out of the way, but I couldn't help but feel like everyone was looking at me, wondering who I was and what the hell I was doing invading their set. It made me feel pretty uncomfortable, but I held my ground, just hoping to be able to stick around long enough for the shot that they were setting up for next. There was going to be something happening in the town square. Lots of Christmas lights, thousands, and lights on the tops of all the buildings shining downwards. If I could just hold out a little longer!

By this time, it was clear I hadn't gotten aforementioned job, as I had been waiting for the phone call all evening. I was down about that, my head had holes from the daggers (as did my heart), and I couldn't help but be disappointed that in my other searchings of the lot, I hadn't run into Matthew Perry, thereby not being able to put my "asking for a light" plan into action.

"You wouldn't happen to have a light would you?"

"Sure do."

(He lights my cigarette.)

"Thanks. I'm Betsy."

"Hi Betsy. I'm Matt. You work here?"

"No, I'm just waiting for a friend to get off of work."

"Oh cool. Have you been having a nice time?"

"Yeah. I was watching them film Gilmore earlier, but felt I was in the way so I left."

"Oh I'm sure you weren't. Everyone's so busy and we're used to having visitors here. Are you a fan of the show?"

"Yeah, Gilmore is definitely one of my favorites."

(Here, he would proceed to tell me a funny story about him and Lauren, in which I would laugh and my little fan heart would explode.)

"So is Studio 60 coming back?"

"Yeah, for now. We'll see if it's got a second season in it."

"Well, I for one love the show and think it has a great future."

"Tell that to the damn studios." (In my head, the conversation would be a success if he curses at least once. I think celebrities cursing around you often mean they trust you. Or so I've come to believe.)

Etc, etc, etc.

Yeah, so that didn't happen. (Expectations people. They'll kill you.) And I was starving and self-conscious as a light was turned on that made my otherwise well-hidden bench, a direction of focus. I walked around a little more, seeing a few ER doctors and such, and passing by Lauren's "Star Waggon" in a random strike of luck. Not that I saw anyone there, but I recognized her bike. In my journeys, I went back to my friend's set, dropping off my bag, as to look like less of a visitor. Of course, I walked back to the back lot, still anticipating the scene in which I figured they'd be shooting next.

An hour or two went by, and I was feeling pretty bad at this point, seeing as the closest I had come to seeing them shoot was hearing them say, "Cut" and "Action", I hadn't gotten my job and would therefore have to ask my parents for some help, was hungry and tired, and had stood up one of my friends who had needed help with a casting session. I decided to cut my losses and leave.

Sure, had I stayed I would have seen more, but the way this day was going, I wouldn't have been able to see much. My head would have gotten in the light, casting a shadow over the entire square, during the print take, and the actors would all glare at me as they would have to redo their performance of a lifetime. That or, I probably would have been shooed away or caused a ruckus by passing out from hunger during a shot.

Luck apparently isn't always on my side, or it was time for it to run out at least. As I say this, I am reminded of the "brat" part of the title. I got to visit the set, which is awesome. I had free reign and saw both of the Gilmore girls. I know that the job thing is, and was, putting a damper on my spirits, but I can't help but be a little disappointed.

I felt bad when I said bye to my friend who have given me such a great opportunity. I was down and she noticed. I assured her it was the job thing, which rewarded me with a nice pep talk that I so desperately wanted to believe.

"One door closes...."

But it was a great time and opportunity, and I can't help but be so mad at myself for letting the job thing get to me so much! I should be estactic right now! Gilmore! Favorite show! Woo!

Go ahead...tell me how stupid I am. I know it's true. But expectations suck and I'm slowly learning to have less of them.

I hate going out on a bad note.

Woo! Gilmore!!

Lost

I'm going to scream and curse a lot in like 5 seconds.

5...

I just wrote a post,

4...

That was epic,

3...

And lost internet,

2...

And lost the post.

1...

(Close your ears and direct your attention away from this page. This is not going to be pretty. I'll spare you.)

A Blood Curling Scream Perhaps?

What will you dream of tonight? A sunny day by the beach, or a kiss with a loved one? Maybe a beautiful spring day with imagery provided by a friend. If you're lucky, you may even dream about your Academy/Grammy/Nobel Peace Prize/Booker Prize award winning moment. Me? Well funny you should ask. I'm pretty sure my dreams are going to contain the blood-curling scream that just echoed throughout my neighborhood a few minutes ago. I'm writing this blog to rid myself of them, but as of yet, no such luck.

I'm standing in the yard with my dog, who's quite enjoying running away from me as I try to usher her inside. Now, I'd go as far to say that I f'in love having a backyard. Love it! And I love that there's only one way out that I have to guard so she doesn't go for the hills, quite literally. But, you see, I have to guard it. So when she's back there playing, I'm pretty immobilized. Because as fun as the her-not-coming-to-me-when-I-call-her thing we have going on must be for her, it's pretty dangerous when you start dealing with major roads that I live very close to. Oh, and she ain't afraid of no cars. Huh! (Must be sung with the fervor of Ghostbusters.)

Here I am, standing in my spot, letting her do her thing, which seems to be sniffing a spot for minutes upon minutes until I call for her, in which she runs the opposite direction, not skipping a beat, finding a new area to sniff until the process repeats. I keep convincing myself that she doesn't need a leash, but everytime, without fail, I get to the fifteen minute mark and my temper starts to flare a bit. Like shit or get off the grass for real dog. And trying to get her to go inside is impossible, so I'm forced to stand in my spot, or within a five foot radius of my spot, until she feels like moseying on back towards the house. I might have a higher blood pressure, but I'm trying to let her enjoy having a backyard for the first time in what seems to be forever. But she doesn't listen, and as much as I try to train her with treats and goodies, if there's no treat, she's not coming.

There I was, and all of the sudden I hear this horrific scream, a girl no less, screaming, "Help me! Oh god, pleasssseeeee, someone help me!" I'm not joking and I'm not laughing, and if it was some actor practicing their lines or some kids playing a joke, it was not funny because I'm still reeling from this.

So I hear this scream and in my head, I have two choices. I can stay put, try and usher the pup in (which would likely take hours) and then go call 911, or I could race up the stairs, leaving the one exit open and potentionally allowing my dog to escape to the chicken bone buffett she must think exists somewhere beyond our yard. What would you do? I mean this scream was the most heart-wrentching, desperate cry I've ever heard. Ya'll, I never say ya'll so this needs to have some impact here, it was horrific.

I couldn't tell where it was coming from, but it was at least two blocks away. I felt absolutely useless. A car scooted by, pretty fast but not abnormally so. I took a mental picture just in case, and in my head I saw a terrified girl sitting in the front passenger seat looking at me and silently asking with big, sad eyes, "Why aren't you doing anything?"

I'm haunted because I reasoned that surely someone closer had to of heard. Someone who knew where it was coming from and damn, i'm making excuses but I didn't do it. I remained rooted to the ground as I could feel the guilt build in my body and the weights on my shoulders.

I started fervently trying to get unresponsive pup inside, and finally did so after pretending to go up the stairs myself. But I didn't go right away and make the day-saving phone call. I feel like I let humanity down, but I was torn with what-ifs and could-I-really-make-a-difference-right-nows. Surely someone else heard. Isn't that what people always say, and that's why no one helps anyone anymore?

I'm just sick, sick to my stomach as it bounces around, that scream, that terrifying scream, just bounces around in my head. I heard some sirens a few minutes later, and plan on giving a car description tomorrow, but i just feel so bad and know that my immobility is going to cause me great stress.

Worst part? I'll never know. I'll never know what happened to that poor girl because this is Los Angeles, and bad stuff happens so much, that it rarely makes the news. The news here all seems to be a bust here and a new building there. Actor did this and fatal car accident there. You rarely hear about the stuff that must happen all the time here, like the shootings and the robberies. It's terrifying to think that it's so common, it doesn't even make the news anymore. And I think this because I've looked. After my shooting detours, I watched the news religiously to see what had happened, and nothing. Not even a blurb.

So there. There is what is going to haunt me tonight. Knowing that somewhere near me, something bad happened to someone and I couldn't do anything.

Moving on? Can I move on from that? Is that too heavy to follow with good news? It'll take my, and your, mind off of it, so here we go.

Tomorrow, big day. I'm eating lunch with a friend on the WB Lot and after lunch will have free reign to tour what I wish. And I wish to tour. So that's exciting. Also, I find out if I get the job I interviewed for! (Awesome!) Yes, I got an interview. For reality tv, but hey, it's a gig, and it pays well, and it's an editing job, not an assistant job, so really, what is there to complain about? It's actually perfect for me. And I want it, and I will keep you posted because wow, I find out tomorrow. Life changing people. LIfe changing.

(Speaking of life changing...) My blonde roots are growing in far faster than I ever thought possible. I'm going to need a touch up soon or I'm seriously going to be two-toned, which isn't all that cute.

My dog and I have a strange night ritual where she gets in bed first, when I lay down, if I as much as graze her with my foot or move her covers, she's off of the bed and huffs like I just woke her up as Tramp was feeding her a meatball or something. Then I take reign of the bed and make myself cozy, until that is, I remember I didn't set my alarm clock. Or my computer is dying and I have to plug it in. Or I left the light on. But I have to get up. Almost every night when I'm going to sleep, it's my strange and twisted habit. I always have to get up to do or get something. Dog then jumps up to exactly where my body was and curls up, refusing to move, stubborn and unmovable. It's times like these, where I try and contort my body as to not disturb her, when I wonder why I allow my dog to take over my bed every single night. I'm a guest in my own bed! Pshaw you guys. Pshaw. Then she cuddles me and gives me her little tired eye face, and my bottom lip sticks out as I gently pet her head.

Now seriously, eyes drooping and no aforementioned horrific-ness at the forefront, so I'm going to bed.

You guys be safe out there.

A Few Awesome Covers

Woo! Camera Obscura has a new song out! Glee! It's a cover of Abba's "Super Trouper". I'm so in love...

Check it out here!

Can I cry now? No? Why not? Alanis did what??

Since I've Lived In LA...

I arrived on the west coast roughly twelve days ago, Monday, March 19th. It is now the first of April, officially I guess, but it's the night of the 31st. I can't say the first week (plus) has been uneventful. In fact, I've seen and done and experienced more in these past few days than I ever expected I would. So officially, I've gone through every emotion possible. I've been horrified, exuberant, scared, confident, happy, uncomfortable, nervous, stupid. I've felt important, felt like a nobody, felt like I was out of place, felt like I was exactly in the right place.


++Mini Chapter 1: It's all fun and games until somebody gets SHOT++

That's right, shot. So here I was, loving LA, thinking it's heaven on earth. I felt comfortable here, conforted here. It felt like a vacation. And I'm riding around with one of the many crazy drivers that I've riden with since my arrival, and we are cruising down Sunset, after a horrific dinner mentioned in Mini Chapter 3. The dinner may have been bad, but the ride was great. Wind through my hair, a beautiful night. Being able to see the scenery instead of riding through a dark tunnel after waiting 30 minutes for a subway car that smells like urine. Oh, the difference a 3,000 mile drive makes.

Well, the important part of the story is that I was in a great place. I didn't know what people could possibly not like about this place. And then I see the flares. Traffic is stopped and cop cars are blocking our way through. I think to myself that that must be some nasty accident if they've blocked off three (give or take) blocks of Sunset, inarguably a main drag through Hollywood.

I turn to my friend and oh-so innocently ask, "You think it's an accident?"

He responds nonchalantly, "It looks like somebody got shot or something."

Shot?

This is when my mind tells me that, duh, I'm in LA, and that's when it registers. It's not all fun and palm trees and sand and famous people. People get shot here. Lots of people. And car-jacked and murdered. Shot. Guns everywhere. That guy there? On the corner? He's probably packing heat, and I visibly squirm in my seat. The rest of the night, when I'm forced to walk two dark, lonely blocks to my car, my shoes click Phoebe-style. Do-n't get shot, do-n't get shot.

And then icing on the cake, tonight, as I'm driving home from a social event, I get two blocks from my street and I see those damn flares again. No kidding. Right in front of my street. A cop blocks the road, and horrifically, I sigh at the annoyance of having to go residental streets the rest of the way home. (LA has hardened me already.)

I know what you are probably thinking. "Didn't you live in New York?" Shouldn't I already be hardened? Well no. That's not really the case. You see, New York is big in a different way than LA. You see where you walk, and that's about it. Above the ground, you don't end up covering very much ground. LA, you're all over the place in any given day. A lot more ground is covered and there's a much larger opportunity for you to see the evil around you. Also, NY looks like it's dangerous. On the filthy streets and people-packed avenues, something bad going down isn't all that surprising. But here, here where the streets are lined in palm trees and sweet tarts, you don't expect to see these things. But, I did. And apparently, subconsciously, already learned to not be surprised at the inconvience. I'll have to start factoring in shooting detours into my travel time.


++Mini Chapter 2: Celebrity Sightings++

That Paris Hilton girl sure gets around. In two consectutive nights, I've been stopped by a flashlight holding police officer, trying to stop traffic so Paris Hilton's car can pull out onto the road so the paparazzi can stop with the flashbulbs already. The first night was the best, as I was the first car stopped, (front row seats), as she jumped in her convertible, (that's a great way to avoid the cameras), and be-bopped in the front seat. My roommate's sister was in the car and had been talking about seeing Paris Hilton since she had arrived. (I guess I'll have to start factoring in being stopped my the paparazzi into my travel time as well. No wonder it takes so long to get places here!) And all this after...

...THE MOST AMAZING THING EVER. What is more amazing than seeing Paris Hilton be-bop in a convertible as she gets hundreds of photos taken of her? Me seeing my number one lady. Lauren freaking Graham, minus the freaking respectively. My number one. The number one. You know, the person who you hope you're going to see, but know that it won't happen for no other reason than you wanting it so badly. And she was the, count it, second famous person I saw. In my first week. And it was completely random. Is there such a thing as meant to be? Because if so, this experience told me that I was "meant to be" here. That's for sure. On with the story...

I'm sitting in a bar with some friends from college. We had planned this get together for Friday evening, but after a different, and unchangable party appeared on our schedule, we bumped it to Thursday night instead. Act of fate number one. Said Friday night party was cancelled, and though we toyed with changing it back to Friday, we decided that we'd stick with Thursday so the place wouldn't be so crowded. Act of fate number two. The place is not crowded at all. And I'm sitting in a booth. I choose the booth instead of the wall-facing wooden chairs because primarily, I was wearing low rise jeans and would be less likely to not show off my underwear by sitting against the wall. (Act of fate number three?) Sublime is on, and I remember this clearly because as Sublime is one of my favorites, I always make mental notes of bars that put them on their mixes. Ten times out of ten, I'll love the bar if this is the case. So I smile at the music, and a couple walks towards the back, where we are sitting. They walk past us, and this is when, I swear, things click into slow motion. Her face is clear to me. The profile, and she is laughing at something the unidentified man is saying, and her arm is in his, and she looks so different, and I swear that my jaw had to of been on the floor. Just so unexpected. I wasn't prepared. I stare. Just stare like I have no manners at all. She doesn't even glance at us, and I know this because I watch until she goes throught the doorway to the hall, and continue watching the doorway until I am snapped out of my slow-motion stupor by my friend who leans over excitedly, "Did you see that?"

I don't even know what to say. I'm stumped and I think I sit in silence for five whole minutes before I realize that I should say hello. This is usually a move I don't like to make, talking to a celebrity while they are trying to lead a normal life, but I had to make an exception here. The Laws of the Universe say that I wasn't supposed to see her. She's my number freaking one. How did this happen, to me, the most unlucky, "you just missed the coolest thing ever", person in this world? It would never happen again. Lightning doesn't strike twice. So I should say hey. For the universe. But as I go to stand, I can't balance because I'm still so shocked. I finally stand and walk towards the hallway she went down, towards the bathroom and valet parking. I go to the bathroom, take a deep breath, and enter. Empty. Damn. I walk the rest of the hallway, and nothing. A few doors for either secret celebrity hang-outs or the much more likely, janitor closets. And then the back door. I pick up my pace and open the door, thankful no one was one the other side as they probably could sue me for a broken nose. It swings open to no one. Nothing. A parking lot with a lonely valet man bouncing a ball up and down and up and down. She had gotten away. It didn't wipe the smile from my face though. I didn't care. I had seen her. In real life. She did exist. And she was happy and seemed so carefree and I had seen her in my first week of living here.

Pure unadulterated exhilaration.

And then there was also that Sharon Osbourne thing too!


++Mini Chapter 3: It's a tough job, but somebody's gotta do it.++

How do you rationalize going out a lot while you're unemployed and broke? Networking. Yes. It is a hard job, but a very necessary one. So socially, I've had an exciting time. Meeting people, and going to my friend's sets, and bars and clubs and such.

Last night we actually went to a LA strip club. Yes, a strip club where ladies dance for the money. A bikini one sort of, I guess. No one got completely stripped down anyway. I thought it was a joke when my friend pulled in, and maybe it was, but we went. And I got to sit across from a guy who, had I seen him on the street, I'd have been very attracted to. I watched his face in horror as he watched these girls. These girls shaking their butts directly in his face while he drooled. Literally drooled. And then I felt bad for being the girl in the strip club who was there watching people who were there to watch, so I stopped looking the guys, and focused my attention on the girls. Their shoes mainly, because there's nothing more uncomfortable than trying not to be disrespectful by not looking at a person's, ahem, money-maker. If that makes sense. It's like, you're supposed to be watching them dance, and you don't want to avoid the whole stage because that is rude in this weird way I can't explain, but really, it's nothing too interesting to look at. Not to mention I feel bad googling, or I feel like I'm googling by looking at all. And I just hope that they like what they do and don't do it to feed their kids or something. So I focused on the boots. The tall, ridiculous boots. And some of the dance moves that they used. Just a strange thing.

One girl really impressed me when she climbed the pole to the ceiling. It was pretty impressive and I had to give her props! That had to be difficult. And she has to look graceful too. I can't do a pull-up with a smile. Must less, climb a pole in six inch heels, doing it so it appears that you are a graceful and gentle creature, still smiling at the people below. No grimace. Nothing. When this dancer was done with her routine, someone snuck out of the shadows and threw what had to have been one hundred single dollar bills onto the stage. At first, I was like, good for her. Then she started picking up her money and I got sad. (Sad at a strip club. Only a woman.) She was crawling. The purpose of the dollars is so the person can get a peep show as she picks up the money he throws at her. It felt so primordial to me. These guys being like "here's my money, now pick it up woman. And oh yeah, it's in ones so have fun with that. I'll just watch." I hated that.

After that uncomfortable experience, we decided to try and get into a roped off club near Sunset. It's three of us girls and one guy. He walks up to one of the ropes and slyly says to the guy, "I've got three women with me." Amazingly, he tells us to wait at the side as people stand in this line, waiting to get in. Then he opens the rope for us and we get to go right in. Awesome.

Tonight I was invited to a "house party in the hills" where there was sure to be "hundreds of people". I go to my friends apartment, and she says that it will be impossible for me to find parking and to just put on my flashers and E brake, because this hill was more like a vertical mountain, and to come up and hang out. I had never seen such a large hill before in my life. We never had stuff like this in good ol' NC or NY.

When we go to the party, parking is ridiculous. There's one spot on the hill that is probably the exact length of my car, give a couple of inches. Now I have a new car so I'm not so great a judging it yet. And this spot was on a hill, (going up), and a curve. So this is not an easy parking spot. It's very apparent why it's still open. My friends insist I can do it. So with the assistance of a bear, (or my friend in a bear costume), I inch my way in, trying only twice before successfully, (yes successfully), getting into the spot. Without as much as tapping the other cars. I was impressed myself. They crowned me and we went to the party. Which was huge, but nothing to write home about. (The parking was much more interesting.) Although, I did see a guy I had gone to school with and when I asked him what he was doing now, he shuffled his feet and mumbled something. "What?" I ask. "I'm in the paparazzi." I laugh so hard, I get light-headed. Paparazzi??? I knew a guy in the paparazzi? I tell him I kinda hate his people. And he's so ashamed, but defends it by saying he only has to do it for a couple of months to load up on some money. These guys make BANK. In fact, when he tells me how much he is making, it silences my laughs and I consider if I could run fast enough while successfully working a camera.

Also, last week my friend was working on a show and invited me to have lunch with her. Who was I to say no to an offer like that! I get onto the studio no problem but then I don't know where to park. I look around and all the spots seem to be numbered. So I park in one of these spots and make my way to a security guard. I ask him where I should park and he points down to a spot with a smile. "Go between those two cars and that way you'll be exactly where you need to be." I thank him and return to my car. As I approach the spot, I see that all of these spots have names on them. The one he had directed me to said, "WB Ranch VIP Parking". Hells yes! (There's always something nice about being called a VIP.) People walking by mistake me for someone important. I smile confidently and get out of my car.

When I get to set my friend starts introducing me to people. She introduces me to one guy who is a director. We start talking and joking around. They seem to get along very well, talking about mixed cds and such, and I chime in with telling him his shirt is, "very LA". He laughs and welcomes me to LA. As he walks away, his name swirls in my head and I wonder where I had heard it before. Then it hits me that he was the director for the Veronica Mars pilot! Awesome! I had just made the director of the VM pilot laugh. Extremely cool. What was up with me having such good luck here?


++Mini Chapter 4: Now if only that luck could come through for me getting a job.++

I made the mistake that every single "getting a job" seminar warns you not to make. I got too cocky and ruined my chances at a job before I even had it. (Or so I think.) You're at least supposed to do the interview first! People started telling me I should forego assisting and go straight for the editing jobs since I was an editor in NY. I'm young and typically people my age get the assistant jobs. But I'm applying for everything, as I just wanted to see what I could get. Within a day of my job searching I hear back for an assistant job on reality tv, (something I would rather avoid, but it seems inevitable.) Through email, I try to keep him interested while I wait and see if I hear back from any of the other gigs. And then he calls...

My phone shows a LA number that I don't recognize so immediately, I answer. It's the reality guy. He asks me if I'm interested and I assure him I am. He asks what kind of job I'm looking for, and I hmm and haw stupidly saying that I don't know yet. He asks if I'm looking for an editing gig or assistant one. Again, like a fool, I say I'm waiting to see what's out there. Somehow sounding like I'm passing on this job. I tell him I've been here only for a day so I'm just testing the waters. Doh! He says he'll get back to me if anything comes up, and thereby probably removing me from the running for this particular job. I try not to beat myself up too much, that is until I get a call from my friend who says she had just gotten an assistant job on a reality tv show and is looking for night assistants. We chat and as it turns out, her boss, and the guy who would effectively hire me to be HER assistant, is the one I spoke on the phone with. Yes, small stupid world indeed. I hear the pay, and the fact that I'd be working with my friends, and want it. Need it. It would pay the bills and every other lead I had gotten, turned up dry.

I tried to back petal in my email to him, cursing myself that now I was begging for a lower position, (figuring he had probably been wanting me for the position my friend got-a day position with better pay). Yikes. These things do come back to haunt you. Still waiting to hear about that one...


++Mini Chapter 5: Driving++

Oh driving in LA has been interesting. My first trip to the freeway, after my cross-country trip of course, landed me lost in the middle of somewhere. Trying to make it to Burbank, I finally give up after thirty minutes of not finding the 101. I call my friend with my tail between my legs, and find my way there. On the way back, I have no problems, which is impressive only because it was rush hour, I had no map, and my second destination was somewhere else I had never been. Some how, some way, I get there rather quickly. Only after seeing one car accident happen, (a woman rear-ending a not so pleased man because a car pulls out in front of her, causing her to have to slam on brakes.)

I also tried to venture into Beverly Hills one afternoon, getting there fine, but when I tried to return home, I ended up in Santa Monica. I got the feeling I had gone the very wrong way.

I've been riding with my roommate, who has lived in LA for almost two years now, and effectively said my Hail Mary's about seventeen times. (She wasn't even that great of a driver in NC, and this is self-proclaimed.) Hail Mary's also came into play when another of my crazy-driving friends decides one night to take me on Muholland. Muholland, if you don't know, cuts across the top of the mountain. Beautiful, gut-wrentching views. I felt like every turn should have been labeled, "Dead Man's curve". I saw my death like five times on that trip.

A couple nights ago, we saw a freshly-hit fire hydrant. With water shooting so far into the sky, I couldn't really even tell where it stopped. The street was flooding so fast, you would think that it had been raining in LA for weeks. Which was obviously not the case, as I had witnesses LA burning to the ground earlier in the day...(nice segue-way Thompson).


++Mini (and last) Chapter 6: Why do I get the feeling this is going to be blamed on me?++

We're driving back from Ikea on a highway with a clear view of the hills. I see a billowing smoke cloud and show the others. It's huge. Freaking unbelievably huge. Never in my life had I seen a smoke cloud this big. My friend calls her boyfriend who works near where the fire appeared to be coming from. She asked him what was on fire, and I braced myself for the inevitable "the terrorists bombed LA" response that I just knew was coming. He seemed confused and then she could hear the whole office realize something near them was on fire. He went to his roof and said that it was in the hills, and was heading towards the WB lot and Universal! Not to mention the Hollywood sign! Both lots had been evacuated, and my heart dropped as I pictured Luke's Diner going up in flames. I was so sad! It couldn't be! He then reported that it was heading towards the Hollywood sign, and I just knew that this was it. LA was going to burn to the ground.



Seeing a fire that huge is so unsettling. I was terrified, as I've never witnessed such a thing in my life. I was assured we lived far from it, but my mind was just racing with terror that it was going to burn up the GIlmore sets. Not even to mention the obvious, possibly killing hundreds and ruining homes by the second.

We race home, in some of the worst traffic ever, (as people were obviously trying to get home ASAP), and turn on the news. I felt a huge wave of relief as I heard that it was under control and the Hollywood sign, nor either of the two studios, were damaged. Whew.

So to recap this lengthy post I hope you made it through, since I've lived in LA I've, seen my number one celebrity, Lauren Graham, gone to a strip club, seen two different (possible) shootings, saw one of the largest fires I've ever seen, witnessed the possible demise of the Hollywood sign, gone to a large house party in the hills, illegally parked, seen a fire hydrant shooting water towards the sky, gotten lost twice, seen a car accident happen, seen three car accidents after they happened, felt like I was about to get in a car accident, been allowed access into a roped club while others waited in line, seen Paris Hilton twice being followed by paparazzi, talked to a guy who's in the paparazzi, parked vertically on a large hill, did the tightest parallel parking I've ever done, probably ruined a pretty good job opportunity, got VIP parking on set, and met the director of the pilot of Veronica Mars.

Not too bad for my first week (plus). I think I'm ready for my membership card now!