No Words...

Where do I begin? Sheesh. What a few weeks this has been. No kidding. You ready for an epic tale? Sit back, grab a drink, and get to reading. I'll begin two weeks back.

An amazing thing happened. I got a temporary job that lasted exactly to the day of when my perm job was supposed to start back up. And I not only got the job, I nailed the interview. They showed me the stacks of resumes and did the whole bit of flattering me by saying they liked my resume the best and I was the first they called, etc etc. Then made a whole show of tossing the rest of them into the trash. Okay, so it was probably the best interview I've ever had. The show was something definitely cool and different. I heckled a bit a got a wee bit over my usual rate and everyone seemed nice and welcoming. So I was pretty excited.

The day I found out I got the job, I also found out that I got to edit a music video for an actual record label and an actual band and it could actually go on tv! (Maybe, possibly, maybe). Flying high here, right?

Okay, then things started going terribly wrong. I soon discovered that my once top-of-the-line editing system had plummeted so far below the line that it couldn't even handle aforementioned music video. Not only that, the new job was not quite as great as I had imagined. It was hard going back to working days when I had grown so accustomed to nights. Having people breathing down my neck and not being able to get online and waste time was definitely a downer.

So one problem at a time, I knew I wanted to do the music video. I had just wrapped up the short that I've worked on literally all summer and was excited to go to something different. The song is catchy and poppy and fun, with a hint of darkness, and altogether perfect for me. The director is someone I've wanted to work with for a while, and well, music videos have always had a special place in my heart.

At this point in my life, I was broke. Broke broke broke! I quickly learned that in order for me to update my system so that it could handle the project, I wouldn't even be able to update my exsiting software, (since it is an Academic version, [which at the time sounded like such a good deal]). I'd have to buy the super expensive bundle of applications I'd rarely use, one of which, enabled me to do the video.

Thirteen hundred dollars in debt later, I'm sitting at my computer, all excited and ready to install my new software when I discover that I need to update my OS X to even be able to INSTALL FCP 6. What?!? That would have been nice to know at the store where I had bought the software as they were closing and locking the doors behind me for the night.

I should have taken this as a sign that the universe did not want me to do this project. But I couldn't stop there. This was an unreturnable purchase and I was going to use it damnit.

The next morning I awoke nice and early and was at the store as they opened the doors. I went in, bought my OS X gazillion, (after the fated conversation with the nice salesman, "Do you really need it now?" "Yes. Why?" "The new version is coming out next week. You should wait until then." Of course. "I can't!"), and left the store feeling even smaller than I felt when I entered.

I got home and spent the entire day installing software, including yet another upgrade I had to download as the smoke flew from my ears, and then, finally, FINALLY, importing the footage. Somehow, someway, I still got the first cut done that night, right on schedule. I was doing my best to overcome these obstacles and desperately wanted to leave a good taste in the mouth of the director. The next day, of course, (this is getting ridiculous, no?), after all of that hard work, I discovered that one little tiny box had not been checked when I imported the footage, (not to get into too many boring specifics, but it's an HD project and this was the first time I was dealing with actual HD in my timelime), so I had to reimport. Reimporting caused all my current files to reconnect almost an entire second off, meaning I was basically having to recut the entire thing. In one night to even attempt to stay on schedule.

Can I just say for the record this was one of the most fun things I've ever had the privelege of cutting. Even so, I would have preferred to do it once, especially with the tight schedule we were on, but I digress. I stayed up late, starting off my week on four hours of sleep. I finished, yay, but the lack of sleep hurt me.

Monday-I went to work, realized I had made a couple of mistakes, tried to correct them, cursed the assistant before me and the vague notes she left me, stared at the clock, waited for it to hit six thirty, drove home, walked my dog, and the director came over and we worked for the rest of the night on the cut.

Tuesday-I went to work, realized I had made a couple of mistakes, tried to correct them, cursed the assistant before me and the vague notes she left me, stared at the clock, waited for it to hit six thirty, drove home, walked my dog, and the director came over and we worked for the rest of the night on the cut.

Wednesday-I went to work completely exhausted, realized I had made a couple of mistakes, tried to correct them, cursed the assistant before me and the vague notes she left me, stared at the clock, waited for it to hit six thirty, drove home, walked my dog, and the director came over and we worked for the rest of the night on the cut.

Thursday-I went to work even more exhausted, realized I had made a couple of HUGE mistakes, like sending a bad DVD to the Network, (eck!), cursed the assistant before me and the vague notes she left me, cursed my boss for not letting me check said DVDs before he burned and sent them, stared at the clock, waited for it to hit six thirty, drove home, walked my dog, and the director came over and we worked for the rest of the night on the cut.

Friday-I went to work unbelievably exhausted, didn't make any mistakes, stared at the clock, waited for it to hit six thirty, got in my car and started to drive home. I was trying to make my way as fast as possible through the rain, (yes, rain in LA), and traffic, so I'd have enough time to walk my dog before the director came over. I got a call. EPIC! I warned you! (I actually had to stop and remember that other stuff because it is so pale in comparison to my next catastrophe. I was like "Wait, didn't something else suck like four days ago?")

My house, a duplex, had gotten struck hard by the rainstorm. The shotty old wire coming off of my bedroom and onto the pole had ripped from our house, still barely hanging on, but doing so in a vicarious manner. My roommate, who was home when it happened, had seen the sparks from the event, and ran outside. A small fire had started under our house. She grabbed the dogs and called the fire department. By the time they had gotten there, the fire was out and a large portion of cable/internet wires was a mess a black goo. Needless to say our cable/internet still hasn't been fixed!

They put up some tape and told us we needed the electic company to come out as soon as possible. It was around this time that I was finally getting home. The electricity was understandibly out, (just our house), and when I touched the back railing by the stairs, I got shocked. A loud, unbearable hum was coming from my wall, and our fire alarms were beeping mercilessly, as they run solely on electic energy and not batteries. The fire department had left and there was no fire at this time, so I tried my best to feel safe. My roommate went to a movie and I was stuck at home alone to sit and hope that, despite my gut telling me otherwise, everything was okay.

I kept getting wiffs of an odd odor that I pinpointed as a vitaminy smell. The fact that the fire alarms weren't working troubled me, but I tried to stay calm. Finally, sensing the smell was getting stronger, I broke down and called 911. I asked the fire department just to come back and investigate the smell. A little over two minutes later, four trucks came roaring into my neighborhood. My cheeks flushed, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

They could not smell anything and when I told them that the railing had shocked me, they looked at me like I was crazy. The dogs had both yelped in the front yard, as if they were getting shocked too. They didn't believe that it was anything to be worried about. They left, as there was no fire.

The electric company was slammed and no one came that night. I also had to understandibly cancel the editing session for the evening. I couldn't even sleep in my room as the hum was not only annoying, but troubling. It sounded like a ball of electricity trapped in the wall. I slept of the couch. A fitful nights sleep at best. After a week of short sleep nights, my nerves were rattled and body, exhausted.

I awoke the next morning and me and my roommate both called the electric company begging for someone to come out. One house without power didn't seem to be a big priority. We explained it was an emergency, but there was only so much customer service could do.

Finally, after an unsettling morning, a lone man from the electric company came to investigate. He looked shocked and basically said, "We're gonna need a bigger boat."

Duh. This is what we'd been saying. He was nice enough to call the dispatcher directly, hopefully expressing the severity of the situation. He was also nice enough to explain that somehow electricity had infiltrated our entire yard, or anything metal touching the house. And no, I was not crazy for thinking I got shocked. I actually did and thank goodness it wasn't enough to do any damage.

But he couldn't turn the electricity off. Basically that had to be done at the pole or something. For some reason, he couldn't do much. So again, I waited. Waited, sniffing the air anxiously. Roommate had gone to breakfast and I had stayed home, not wanting to leave the dogs alone. I was so nervous, just waiting for the house to catch fire, I actually packed up some things in my car. I just knew. I can't explain it, but I knew. I was putting my head between my knees taking deep breaths and trying to calm myself down. I felt helpless. Like I was just waiting for it to catch fire. Like it wasn't a question of "if", it was "when". I literally was having an internal debate on whether or not I was overreacting when I smelled the vitaminy smell again. I didn't want to false alarm the FD again, so I waited. It got stronger, much stronger, and finally I broke down and called my roommate begging her to come home. When she got there she laughed at the fact that I had packed up my car, but as the rain started falling again, the smell got even stronger.

So I got on the phone with the power company and told them we needed someone now. Now. Then, my worst nightmare happened. My roommate saw smoke. I took the dogs outside and put them in my car, yelling to the power company that my house was on fire, it was too late now, and I had to go. I hung up, feeling utterly helpless and like no one seemed to give a damn that we've had this huge risk around us and no one could seem to do anything but wait. Wait for this, I guessed. Wait for the house to go up in flames. That's what it took it seemed. My roommate ran down a few seconds later, having already called the fire department, and said she saw flames. In my head, it was gone. The house was gone. When the fire trucks pulled up, I met them at the street and told them where the kitchen was. Immediately when they ran in, I started crying. I know. I'm such a girl. But it had been an emotional day and I'm terrified of fires and I really thought the house was long gone. And just to push the sympathy points a little higher, it was pouring down rain and I was completely soaked. And neighbors were coming up to me offering me umbrellas and water and to go inside their house and sit, but I couldn't move from the driveway, alternating from watching the house in horror, and not being able to watch at all, fearing I'd see flames from the roof. I knew I wouldn't be able to handle that.

I'll add in here that we couldn't reach our landlord because of the Jewish holiday and he had left no emergency number.

I got dragged away from the house by a friend who took me down the block to her house and supplied me with dry clothes and made me calm down-which was probably a good thing. I think the firefighters were laughing at me. When I returned, it was business as fire usual. They had decided they had no other choice but to cut down the power line completely. They were inspecting all the walls with a camera thing to make sure nothing else was on fire.

A fireman, the chief I do believe, approached me and asked if I was the one that called last night about the "vitaminy" smell. I confirmed that was me, and he, in turn, confirmed, in his best apologetic tone, that I wasn't crazy. What I had been smelling was the old insulation smoldering in the walls. HA! (Although I'm not sure how much I appreciate being right on that one.) I knew I wasn't crazy. I'm pretty sure they felt bad about the jokes they made after they left. So yes, technically there was a fire in our walls for nearly twelve hours. This house we SLEPT in.

Anyway, that is how I spent last weekend. Hardly any damage was done, although the firemen did chop up one of our walls! The house has since been rewired, although not very well. Needless to say, we're not really feeling too safe here anymore, and are looking for a place elsewhere. Because of our dog situation, (them not getting along too well), we're going our seperate ways.

And now, I'm going to try and finish a project I've been working on and was almost done with before this big mess! Goodnight!

A Great Big Fire

So what do we have here? I happened to be working a hop, skip, and a jump away from the latest LA fire that devoured Griffith Park and preempted Gilmore girls. We literally were across the freeway from these hills; getting coated with ashes and we all reeked of smoke. We watched as the flames climbed down the hill and slowly took over the entire side that faced us. Unfortunately, we didn't shoot any pictures of the small fire at the top that grew into, well, this.




If there's one thing you can find on set in a time like this, it's a still photographer. And this one happened to be the person in which I share my office with! Hence, all the beautiful photos below. Insanity. Being from the east coast, seeing this with my own eyes was, well, humbling. How quick mother nature can take away things that we take for granted. A natural process, so I'm told. And why do people choose to live in these hills again?






As the smoke moved over the sun, everything around us turned what I could only describe as an Armageddon-orange. Quick! Someone call Crayola!

















The fire almost looks like lava here. This got me thinking, what if one day, one of these dormant volcanos that LA surely must have, seeing as it's not too far from the San Andreas fault line, erupts and everyone mistakes it for a wildfire. Yikes!

Okay, nevermind about the volcano thing.

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!