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    Thursday, July 31, 2003

    Trucks, Trash, and Typos

    Yesterday I had one of the weirdest job interviews since getting out here. I know everyone’s got a different strategy for meeting potential candidates and all, but when I walked into the Story Department of DreamWorks and introduced myself, the supervisor basically spent 15 minutes telling me how awful the job was going to be.

    As she read off the laundry list of horrible things, I couldn’t help but wonder – is this job really that terrible, or is this some sort of weird mind game she’s trying to play to see if I really want the job or if I’m just a tourist. I banked on the former, and decided to tell her that the job sounded like a challenge, and how I enjoy challenges, blah blah blah. You know, just what interviewers like to hear. She smiled when I said this, and then gave me her business card. Again, I don’t know what that means – was she impressed I had passed her Temple of Doom booby trap, or was she just bemused at my naïveté? I guess I’ll find out next week.

    If it was a mind game, though, people who use that tactic should really start to re-think their strategy. While it might potentially weed out people who aren’t industrious enough to handle the expectations of the job, it also makes the job look significantly less attractive. Going in to the interview, this job was on the top of my list. Now it’s floating somewhere near the bottom.

    And now comes another dilemma. None of the jobs I’ve interviewed for in the past two weeks is directly related to television writing. A few of them come tangentially close, but most of them really not at all. So, the question is, do I spend time working at a job that won’t get me ahead in my field, or keep plugging away at hopeless TV production jobs? Even if I stayed at any of these companies for a year, it would definitely give me more experience and look good on a résumé … but none of the thankless jobs I’m up for have as much appeal as the thankless jobs I’d be doing as a PA on a TV show. Oh well.

    As of this writing, my car is expected to arrive today. I got a phone call at 8AM this morning, telling me the truck was in San Diego and should make it to Westwood by the end of the day. San Diego is about 2 hours away from here, 3 hours tops. It is now 5:00, and I still haven’t heard from the trucking company. What the fuck, guys? Where’s my goddamned car?

    In Street Furniture News, I picked up a classy and efficient file cabinet / drawer combo from in front of our apartment building today. In a rare display of engineering prowess, I cleaned the unit, dismantled it, and put it back together in a configuration that I found more efficient. Go, me. Now, I just need someplace to put it, and something to put inside it. Also, paint. White gets dirty too easy.

    In Celebrity News, I had my first sighting today while taking a lunch break from waiting for my car at a delicious New York pizzeria in Westwood. As I sat down to eat my delicious tomato, basil and garlic slices, Michael “I’m Batman” Keaton came in and ordered a full pie to go. He looked a lot older than the last thing I remember seeing him in, but he was still full of nervous twitches. He said hello to the clerks and seemed to be pretty personable. Exciting, eh?

    And then there’s Ben News, probably the most fun of all kinds of news. Like cats dragging dripping, decapitated mice into the living room, the Bens dragged a ratty leather reclining chair to our porch last night, apparently proud of their find. The Bens have a lot to learn about getting stuff for free. I’m a roadside shopper, weeding through the vast majority of junk to find the few salvageable items. The Bens are common trash-pickers.

    While talking to Crash on AIM today, I described the new chair as the kind of furniture you’d expect animals to be living in. When I went out on my mid-day errands today, a squirrel jumped out of the chair and bolted down the stairs. Where the hell am I? West Virginia? Who has that happen to them? I do, apparently.

    Oh, and for you BU graduates (and other BU students), you may wish to take a look at the back of the yearbook. Apparently, my parents paid to put in a dedication for me that was supposed to read, “Excellence is not a skill, it’s an attitude. Congratulations on your attitude!” But, because of a typo, it was printed as “Excellence is a skill, not an attitude. Congratulations on your attitude!”

    That is fucking hilarious.
    posted at 5:19 PM

    Tuesday, July 29, 2003

    Clogged Drains And More Signs Of The Apocalypse

    Well, I guess it did actually rain here last night. Right after I posted yesterday’s … um … post. I have to say it was really nice, and made me just a bit nostalgic for those summer rains and thunderstorms in Connecticut. What it did not make me nostalgic for, however, were the four weeks of rain and clouds I had to sit through in Connecticut after I graduated. Yech.

    Well, if you’ll remember, I have often said that rain makes this city go absolutely insane, and this appeared to be no different. I woke up the next morning a bit earlier than I had planned, but didn’t want to start getting ready for my interview yet, so I just put my headphones back on and listened to music for a little while. I was jostled out of this leisurely activity, however, by Aimee, who came into the room, looking very distressed. She was planning on going to the gym early in the morning, but something was amiss.

    I woke up, stretched, and wandered over to the bathroom. I scanned the scene. There were ants everywhere – by this point, though, I’d be more weirded out if there WEREN’T ants everywhere in at least one room in the morning – and, as I scanned over toward the shower, I saw Aimee, standing in ankle-deep gray water, plunger in hand, trying to dislodge something that had apparently gotten clogged in the drain. There was a lot of swearing.

    Big Ben was curious. He was getting ready to take a shower. He asked Little Ben, who was the last person to use the shower last night, if there was anything wrong. Little Ben said everything was fine, and that he didn’t know what was wrong. Then they left for school.

    While Aimee bravely reached her hand into the depths of the drain, I evacuated the shower toiletries from the sludge and attacked the ants with Raid and vacuum cleaner attachments. After hundreds of ants were slaughtered and no progress made with the drain situation, we both took a break and wandered into the common room. Aimee had started to make a pot of coffee before all this disaster struck, so I went to pour us some cups. But when I got to the coffee pot, I noticed hissing and steaming coffee from beneath the pot, and when I picked the pot up, coffee leaked all over the counter. A large crack had somehow formed along the bottom, so I poured our two mugs and threw the rest out.

    Heidi suggested we call the landlord, and after Aimee talked to her dad for more suggestions, she agreed. I washed my hair in the sink to get ready for my job interview, right after I noted the water in the shower was slowly rising, and getting a lot nastier. Aimee and Heidi called the landlord and bailed buckets of sludge out the window, sinking ship-style, while I threw on a tie and ran out the door.

    Driving Aimee’s car, I managed to find that three separate routes to Sunset Blvd. were closed for construction, and I panicked as I spent twenty minutes trying to find my way out of the neighborhood. I did get to the interview on time, somehow, and it went pretty well – they told me they really liked me, and I’d be called back next week for a second interview with some of the higher-ups. Then, before coming home, I went to Park La Brea to drop off my lease application and tour one of the unbelievably charming garden townhouse apartments, where we’ll probably be living by the end of August, if everything goes well.

    When I did get home, I got the full story – the culprits were three used condoms, and the landlord and everyone else were pissed. Suspects were eliminated for lack of sexual activity (Aimee, Myself), being on birth control and in a long-term relationship (Heidi), and not being stupid enough to stuff plastic items down a small shower drain (Aimee, Myself, Heidi). All that left were the Bens. The fucking Bens.

    Yes, the Bens had done it again, then lied to us about it. Big Ben, though, was very nice about it – he honestly had no knowledge. All signs pointed to Little Ben, who, despite his obvious guilt, came up with increasingly lame, fragile possible explanations for the three condoms in our drain, thinking we were blind and wouldn’t notice the empty three condom box in his trash the night before.

    Needless to say, the shit hit the fan when the Bens came home, and now they have to pay for repairs and clean up the bathroom. Also, Heidi took it upon herself to tell everyone else in the apartment building what happened, so now they also have the additional yokes of public shame and guilt to bear. As a New Englander, I take great pleasure in that. And the fact that Little Ben probably won't be washing any members of the Ho Patrol anytime soon. Kudos to Heidi.

    This is my life.

    (aside to Chris and Sara, I just got a score of 14 on Revolution ’76. And, unlike Chris, I did it without lying : ) )
    posted at 10:06 PM

    Monday, July 28, 2003

    Lightning Strikes Los Angeles

    Today there was a little thunderstorm in the city – lots of lightning strikes and big black clouds, but unfortunately, no rain, and no thunder. Too bad. I know there’s some sort of a “rainy season” for this place, but I don’t know when it is. I can’t wait to see it, though, because these people can’t deal with precipitation.

    A different kind of lightning struck the back of Mikey’s car, while we were en route to accompany his lease signing in West Hollywood. That lightning took the form of a beat up coupe driven by a skinny delivery boy who didn’t speak English very well. Luckilly, everything was ok. I can’t even fake whiplash to sue him, though, because I don’t have medical insurance to pay for the brace I would need to convince a judge. Blast. Now I really have to find a job, don’t I?

    On the job front, I hope a different kind of lightning strikes me this week. I’m still waiting to hear on the research assistant job, and I also interviewed at New Regency last week, which I don’t think I’ll get because I probably shouldn’t be working there, anyway. Tomorrow, I’ve got an interview with a smaller film production company that is pretty much my emergency backup job, and on Wednesday I’ve got an interview for a job I really want, in the story department of a very well-respected, well-known production company. As you can see, I’ve been busy. But please, if you’re sending over job interview-assisting positive energy, focus it on Wednesday at 2PM (PST).

    Let’s see, what else? My car, unbelievably, is still not here. According to the people at the trucking company, who seem to selectively pick up their phones and then only sometimes know what is going on in their company, told me I should have it by Thursday at the latest. So, I’m gonna have to rent a car. Again. That’s more money down the toilet.

    I hope that toilet leads to one of these job interviews panning out, though, because otherwise I’m going to be really, really close to being flat broke. At least then I might actually qualify for food stamps, though.

    We did manage to save quite a bit of money, though, thanks to the wonders of the Target department store, which advertised a 45 piece dining set on sale for $20 and a 90 piece, wonderfully named "Kitchen In A Box" for $40. It's amazing. It's got everything. Seriously, if you think of something you'd normally find in a kitchen, we've got it in a box in the closet. What's even more amazing is that if you split the cost between two people, it comes out to 22 cents per item. You can't beat that. Hell, even Ike Turner couldn't beat that.

    Because my days are filled with so much waiting around, I’m spending a lot more time writing all sorts of things. Lately, they’ve been mainly emails (thanks, past and present SlowKids), with occasional work on my pilot script and piece for Joey’s magazine, which I finished a first draft of today. I’m gonna give it another look over tomorrow and then probably send it out. Once I get more dedicated internet access, I’ll post it here, in a hopefully productive site cleanup.

    And now, to close, here is a link to one of the amazing Renaissance illuminated scripts I saw at the Getty a while back. Take a look. I guarantee you’ll like it.
    posted at 9:55 PM

    Tuesday, July 22, 2003

    Proof of Life

    So, haven’t updated in a while. Sorry about that, but I was busy running around going to interviews – one “no,” one unpaid internship, and one that I’m still waiting to hear on. Also, our apartment’s internet was broken all weekend, so that made it a little tough to remain in touch with the world east of the Mississippi River.

    Not much has changed around here. I'm still jobless, there are still ants crawling out of every crack in the building, the Bens are still high all the time, and there are still swarms of fruit flies hovering around the kitchen. In a show of divine grace, though, Aimee landed a job as a night P.A. for “Reba,” which she’ll start sometime late in July, and surely be amazing at. My temp agency continues to ignore my calls and give temp jobs to other people I know, though, apparently not realizing that we’re not just name dropping when we say we know someone. I’m starting to get desperate for jobs out here. Today, I applied to be a transcriber for the Dr. Phil show, because it’s probably going to be like a shitty data entry job, except that instead of typing in peoples’ account information, I’d be typing homespun nuggets of wisdom from America’s favorite television psychiatrist / oaf. I’m probably sending out about four or five resumes a day to different jobs now. One of these things has to pick me up.

    On Sunday, I also bid a tearful farewell to the green Aspire, in preparation for my much nicer Accord that should be here soon. In truth, the tears were of pure joy, because I hate that car and everything about it. I can’t be sure, but I think the air conditioner – when it was working – also created a little pool of water on the floor of the passenger seat.

    I should be off now, to try to write some more stuff for Joey’s magazine. We’ll see how that turns out … but before I go, I must make a very strong recommendation for you all to pick up a copy of the new Fountains of Wayne CD, “Welcome Interstate Managers.” It’s definitely their best one yet, and if I get some money, I’m going to try to go see them at the House of Blues this weekend. I missed a show by Cake and DEVO (!) today because I didn’t hear about it until this morning. Blast!

    Two words for what I'm hopefully going to be seeing in an upcoming weekend -- "Fleetwood Macbeth." Think about that. Then, think how awesome that has to be.

    posted at 8:33 PM

    Thursday, July 17, 2003

    The Ho Patrol Strikes Again

    The Ho Patrol totally just walked in again, all hoed up. Of course they didn't knock, but this time they at least said hello. But I couldn't tell you any of them because I was having trouble keeping a straight face. Never in my life have I seen girls so young try so hard to look older and fail so miserably. If I had my parents' digital camera here, I would totally take a picture of them, because no amount of me describing them could match the sheer joy you would get just by glancing at them. Their impromptu visits have become one of the joys of living in Los Angeles.

    Another joy I have started to appreciate lately is that "Wizard" guy. Not his company, of course, but just sitting around thinking about him. There are so many questions that arise, like "What is his real name?" "What does 'Wizard' refer to? Can he stand on his nose? Cast spells? Open a yogurt without tearing the tin foil?" Aimee said she was throwing something out and found a coffee cup from the Coffee Bean with the name "Wizard" on it, so we know it's not just something he's doing for us. We were thinking about running down to the Coffee Bean to see if the clerk had any insights into the matter, but then we got distracted because it's too hot to even think about moving off the couches.

    Hey, my car is getting shipped tomorrow! More than a month after it was supposed to! And prospective jobs are calling me back again! And Kohl's is having a huge weekend sale! And there is a giant painting of a vagina on the wall over there!
    posted at 10:56 PM

    Wednesday, July 16, 2003

    Once Again...

    The Onion speaks for us all.

    Today, Aimee, Mikey and I drove around through some of the fancy-pants canyons, Mulholland Drive, and down Sunset Blvd. to show Mikey some of the flashier L.A. landmarks we had wandered through last fall. Then I almost killed someone.

    We were on the always-busy Sunset Blvd. in Hollywood when this guy just walks out into the street, smiling and gesturing to the cars as if daring them to hit him. Of course, we thought this was amazing, and I rolled down my window to yell, "Yeah! Cross that street!" when this guy on a bike, who I didn't see and was also crossing the street, turned around to look at me, and nearly drove into a van.
    posted at 9:52 PM

    Sunday, July 13, 2003

    "We will dream of Barnes and Noble..."

    The Bens have now used all of the 9 rolls of toilet paper Aimee bought earlier in the week, and we've resorted to keeping a personal stash in our bedroom. The Bens, being idiots, are now using paper towels ... which Aimee also bought. It's been three days, and they have yet to take the steps any normal person would take if they were presented with a TP-less apartment. Thus concludes today's Bens Update.

    Because we had nothing else to do today, Aimee and I went down to the Barnes and Noble to browse about, and while there had two comic moments whereby we entertained some of the other patrons.

    First, we found this book with little quizzes "for overly-educated people with nothing better to do." As that just about describes us to a T, we sat down on the floor by the maps section (because really, who buys maps?) and tried to stump each other. For at least an hour. After a while, a lot of people decided they needed maps, and they were milling all around us. We continued, though, until one woman asked us if we were going to be on Jeopardy or something. We just told her were jobless, bored, and just wanted to get out of the house. She laughed.

    While Aimee was checking out her books, she looked over at a rack of sad-looking books on sale for $1 a piece. "Casey!" she exclaimed, "those books are $1! That's cheaper than toilet paper!"

    A young woman buying books next to Aimee looked over at her incredulously -- but also laughing -- as I wandered to the shelf to investigate. Aimee deadpanned, "We've got a situation back at the apartment."

    The woman, still laughing, asked if we were serious, and I called out from the shelf, "Hey, there's a Cathy book here! That'll work."

    Many were amused, but none were given employment. But if you do come to visit us and you see a Cathy book in the bathroom, I hope you'll know what to do.
    posted at 7:12 PM

    Saturday, July 12, 2003

    I Hate The Bens.

    … And so, the entire week managed to go by quickly, without anything really happening. I did get a new laptop keyboard out of the Dell people, though, after spending a good 2 hours on the phone trying to convince them that I wasn’t an idiot and had already tried the Windows troubleshooter myself. Let’s see, what else? No temp jobs yet, although the receptionist at the agency now knows who I am when I call. Maybe that will count for something.

    The Bens have moved in, and it would be an understatement to say that my first impressions were less than fully favorable. A large misunderstatement. The first two days they were here, I seriously spent less than 10 minutes total time in conversation with them. And not because of any residual New England impersonality, but rather because ten minutes was all the time they spent not smoking pot in their room. Unless, of course, they took a quick break to walk outside to smoke conventional cigarettes in what was no doubt an effort to curb the pot munchies with the appetite suppressing qualities of nicotine.

    And their friends don’t seem much better, either. One of the Bens has Crohn’s Disease, an understandably painful affair that necessitates the medicinal marijuana. Everyone else in that circle seems bent on taking full advantage of the fact that someone they know gets pot paid for by the state of California for having an awful disease. One of them came into the apartment yesterday and cordially introduced himself to Aimee and me as “Wizard.” No explanation needed by his standards. It’s a perfectly commonplace name, apparently. Wizard. I’m not even going to say anything more about that, because I am so enraged by it.

    Yesterday I spent most of the day listening to the classic rock station to try to win front row Fleetwood Mac tickets. Once, I got through and was caller number four, but that was it. Never got through again. I think they’re playing two more shows next week, and I’m sure I won’t have a job, so I’ll have plenty of opportunities to sit around and wait for the DJ to announce the ticket contest.

    That night, defeated by the radio contest, Aimee and I met Meryl, Ellen, Mikey, Ken, and Matt Kaszanek (who, for some reason, I can never refer to without using his full name) at the Westwood Brewery just down the road. Wonderful beers were had by most (if you’re in the neighborhood and like dark beers like I do, you’ve got to try the Honey Porter), and various tales of employment woes were shared by all. It sucks that we’re all having trouble getting jobs, but it should make it easier for everyone now that there are more of us out here, and more on the way. However, no one can get a job until they have spent as much time and effort searching as Aimee and I have. And that’s that.

    Today, after sleeping through a streetfight outside our window last night, I drove to the Getty Center to check out a few exhibits I was interested in – one of 1960s black and white semi-surrealist photographs and another huge exhibit on medieval and Renaissance manuscript illumination. Yes, these are the sort of things that get me excited. I ended up spending almost seven hours there, and I learned an obscene amount about Flemish illuminators, painting techniques, calligraphies, pigmenting, the different ways parchments are made, how different parchments feel when they’re made from different animals … I could go on and on. It was great. Then I made sure to wander the gardens for a bit and spend some quality time with one of my favorite paintings ever – “Christ’s Entry Into Brussels, 1889.” I fucking love the Getty Center. I love feeling like I can still learn and synthesize new information. I love feeling like all those years of school didn’t just go to waste. After all this sitting around, feeling sorry for my jobless ass, a little mental stimulation goes a long way. And next week, they’re going to have a new Greek and Roman sculpture display set up, which I’m also way more excited about than any 22 year old should be. Did I mention I love the Getty Center?

    And that’s about it for now. I’m going to get some more reading done and maybe write some more cover letters or some random thoughts. Wizard’s over here again. Maybe I’ll just punch him in the face.

    In a last-minute, pre-posting update, three straight-up hoes just walked into the apartment – WITHOUT KNOCKING – and didn’t say anything. They only gave an obligatory hello when I dumfoundedly looked up from Aimee’s computer to say, “Hello?” The full sentiment of that one-word sentence being, of course, “Hello, painted women. What the hell are you doing in my apartment and where did you grow up that you didn’t learn to knock on doors of other peoples’ houses before you entered them, homely trollops?”

    It’s fucking throw-down time.

    posted at 9:20 PM

    Tuesday, July 08, 2003

    All Dressed Up And Nowhere To Go

    Well, Sunday managed to see me succeed at both purchasing some reduced-price dressy clothes (God bless the Premium Outlet Mall), and secure a brand-old green Ford Aspire from our sometimes-friends at Priceless Rent-A-Car. Driving the Aspire, sentimental value notwithstanding, reminded me just how awful it is to be driving a Ford Aspire. Although I probably only spent about three hours driving time in my Accord in Connecticut, it is, unfortunately, still in Connecticut, where it will most likely remain for a few weeks. This is regrettable because a). I will have to drive the Aspire in the interim b). I will be losing $100 a week to pay for the rental car and c). Trying to parallel park without power steering is a major pain in the ass.

    But, I rationalized, all of these expenses were for the promised interviews from the temp agency that were to come Monday morning. Monday came, no phone call. I waited around all day. I called the temp agency. They said they would call the next day. Old tenants came and took the mattresses I was using away, leaving my air mattress in direct contact with the floor or, as I call it, the Ant Warrens. I drove out to spend more money on “John Adams” by David McCullough at the Barnes and Noble with free parking. I came home, read a lot, and went to bed. Tuesday came, no phone call. Another whole day of nothing.

    I’ve been out here for almost a month now, with no job. I’ve tried to keep a positive attitude about the entire experience, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t depressing to be summarily dismissed from even interviewing for positions I’m clearly qualified for. I called more shows today, and got pretty much the same response from all of them --
    ”We got your resume, we’re still looking, call back next week.” If those go like every other show that’s told me that … and that’s about all of them … when I call back in a few days, the positions will be filled.

    Hope, as Aimee noted today in a dual conversation with Christinia that marked the high point of my day, is what brought us out here, is what is keeping us looking for jobs, but is what has also caused us much boredom and distress. Hope is bullshit. If the people I talked to at these shows hadn’t given me the hope of employment, I could have easily picked up a shitty part time job somewhere so I at least wouldn’t have to face the prospect of going on food stamps. Of course, if I got a part time job now, I wouldn’t be available for a temp job, should one ever decide to present itself to me. At what point should I be resigning myself to a job I could get without ever having gone to college? Will that mean I’m screwed until the next pilot season in January? And will I have to go through this bullshit every year even after I do (hopefully) get a job in TV?

    I had an odd dream Saturday night involving my dad waving at me from his car as he drove through a swamp. Then a snake bit me. Because I’m unemployed, I have time to kill by looking up dream symbolism on the internet. The supposed meaning of this dream is that good career or financial related developments are on the horizon, but they will come suddenly and from an unexpected source. Crash said he had a much more literal dream about me, where I got an enormous box full of goodies from “Will & Grace,” with a note saying I was hired at the bottom or something. That kid’s a straight-shooter, even subconsciously.

    On another note, reading “John Adams” has been a pleasure so far. It does make me miss some of those Yankee traits that, while I may not have appreciated fully while I lived there, will certainly make more of an effort to as a born-again New Englander. At least there, if you had no hope of getting a job, someone would tell you. Then you could spend the $3 you’d waste faxing a resume and cover letter no one would look at to buy ice cream sandwiches.

    Tomorrow, the Bens should be moving in, which will definitely make things interesting around here … possibly even more than the giant Vagina Mural does right now. I think it might start getting a little more cramped, but if everything goes according to plan, I’ll be working during the day and won’t have to worry about literally stepping on anyone’s toes in the kitchen. And hey, aren’t more BU people supposed to be moving out here about now? Where is everyone, and do you have food for me? Man cannot live on 89-cent macaroni and cheese alone, you know.
    posted at 11:25 PM

    Sunday, July 06, 2003

    Oatmeal Cream Pies Are Now A Major Part Of My Diet

    The fourth of July celebrations out here were really great. Aimee and I drove south to Rancho Palos Verdes, where we spent the day at my relatives’ house. This was interesting, as I hadn’t really met most of the relatives who were going to be there. That’s what you get when you have an enormous family. But the California branch of my family ended up being just as laid back and fun as the New England clan, and Aimee and I spent most of the day relaxing in the warm pool or on the deck. Hell, I even got something that resembles a suntan! With that, the beard, the blonde hair, and the fact that 90% of the time, I’m walking around in sandals now, I am well on my way to becoming a stereotypical Californian. Next up on the menu may be taking advantage of the liberal welfare system.

    Watching the fireworks out here was amazing, too. We all drove to this cliff on the edge of the Pacific, where we got a panoramic view of the bay from the west of Malibu all along the coast and pretty far inland – a near-miracle for the Los Angeles area. We could see at least 10 different cities’ fireworks displays, and a few more from behind the mountains. The effect was that it looked like the entire sky was full of fireworks, which was unlike anything I had ever seen before.

    Today, I spent most of the day lying on the couch, finishing the new Harry Potter book. My diagnosis: excellent. A bit slow to start, but when it does pick up, it just gets better and better with each page. The new major antagonist is much more effective at getting the blood boiling than I remember any of the others being, and the book as a whole is much darker than the rest in the series, which is always a plus. The final verdict? Read it, bitches.

    While I wasted away on the couch reading, Aimee busied herself “Trading Spaces” style, painting some of the street furniture we’ve moved into the apartment. The end results are very nice, but there were some unintentionally comical events after an errant breeze slowly wafted green spray paint toward her nose. Later, nail polish remover and paint thinner were added in the comedy of errors. Truly, it was a day of potentially huffable chemicals.

    Tomorrow, I should be picking up my shitty rental car, and visiting some discount outlet stores in Camarillo to get some dress shirts on the hopes that I will get a temp job this week. If not, I can look forward to another day of doing nothing … maybe reading the “John Adams” book if I pick it up. Or possibly sitting on the phone on hold to listen to Dell’s customer service people tell me they can’t fix my computer, even though it’s still under warranty.

    posted at 12:05 AM

    Thursday, July 03, 2003

    Almost Employed

    Well, job prospects may be looking up, even if it's not exactly what I'd like to be doing. After sending out resumes to beer companies, proofreaders, Variety online, the NBC Page Program, and probably at least 50 sitcoms, dramas, and cartoons, I finally got an interview at the Friedman Agency, a temp agency that staffs entertainment jobs. The agent who interviewed me was very nice, and seemed impressed with my resume, so hopefully this week I should start getting some temp work, probably at CAA (maybe I'll run into Lee), Imagine TV, or Carsey-Werner. I'll just be happy to have a paycheck.

    Unfortunately, that also means I'm probably going to have to buy some nice clothes and get a rental car, because the car shipping company I was going to use freaked out my parents when nobody was answering their questions and they decided to use some other company that won't ship until after the 4th weekend. I just don't want to run out of money, that's all. Is that too much to ask?

    Also, is it too much to ask to live in an apartment that isn't overrun with ants? Aimee staged a huge massacre in the bathroom a few days ago, and we put ant traps up all over the place, but they're still wandering around, pissing me off. Thankfully, they haven't been bothering me at night. If they do, I'm gonna bust out on an ant rampage. Or something.

    I'm reading the Harry Potter book right now. It's pretty good, and definately picking up the further I get into it, but I'm also looking for books to read after I'm done with this. I heard some of the new poet laureate Billy Collins' stuff, and I'd like to pick up some of his work, but I'd also really like to read some biographies of the Founding Fathers, for some reason. Anyone have any suggestions?

    Well, I'm about to go make myself some $0.89 macaroni and cheese from Whole Foods Market, and maybe get some reading and/or writing done. Oh, also, if anyone knows how to get my archives back, please let me know. I got nothin' over here.

    Everyone have a great Fourth of July. For some fun pictures of my friends and I from the sweltering Boston 4th last year, check out Shayna's new, under construction page over here. Good, mostly drunken stuff.

    posted at 7:18 PM