A practice in self-indulgence.

Blog whore

2008-05-13T16:17:00.000-07:00

I have another blog that I'm focusing my efforts on more these days. I figure since I spend so much time reading up on food, TV and movies that I might as well write a blog on... those things. Also, I need to spend less time checking my 2 emails every 5 seconds at work.

For those keeping track, I now have...
2 MySpace accounts
2 Yahoo Mail accounts
2 Blogger blogs
and 1 largely untouched Facebook account (my "partridge in a pear tree")

Check out LA Anti-Socialite if I don't post here for a while.

Anthony Bourdain I am not...

2008-05-11T19:49:00.000-07:00

I almost feel embarrassed writing this blog.

Which is why I'm writing it. I was going to pretend this never happened, but I need to accept that it did and that I am not quite as bad-ass as I thought I was.

*sigh*

I'll stop being cryptic.

So, I take a lot of pride in the fact that I will try eating just about anything once. I like to order that thing on the menu that doesn't have much of a description. I like to go for the House Specialty, whatever that may be. Try new things! How bad can it be? What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Come on, you pussy, it's only food!

I read too much Anthony Bourdain.

And now it has bitten me in the ass.

The problem is that I clearly haven't retained enough of the knowledge I've gleaned from my inordinate amount of reading about food. The special of the day at Bronco was a word I had heard before, not only as the name of a shitty Latino boy-band, but also as a food.

It was "menudo".

(Those of you who know what this is can shut the hell up and quit LOLing.)

I knew the word in the context of being a food, but I couldn't recall for the life of me what it was. Now this is the point at which most people would ask the lady at the counter, "Excuse me, what is menudo?" and she would have told you that it was... well, let's not get ahead of ourselves. But no. My inner Bourdain started taunting me, saying just to get it and have a mini adventure on your otherwise boring Sunday night. So I got it. Without a fucking clue what I had just ordered.

After waiting (which, thinking back, I don't know what took so fucking long) for my food, I was handed a bag and I left. I stepped outside and peeked into the bag. There was a big styrofoam container with a lid. Some kind of soup or stew, I rightly guessed. I began my walk home.

As I neared my apartment, I became more and more afraid of the parcel in my hands. I started to fear my food as I have never feared food before, to my recollection. I began to (stupidly) imagine a scenario in which I entered my apartment where Greg and Nic were watching a movie and Greg asks, "Hey, what did you get?" and I say "Um... menudo?" and they both begin to laugh hysterically because they know what it is and I am the dumbass who ordered it.

Upon entering the apartment, I swiftly make my way to my room. I carefully set down my questionable meal and instead of tasting it, I google it. Of course, Wikipedia has the top entry (aside from the band Menudo's website). I'll take it. I click on "Menudo (soup)" and this is what I read:

The soup menudo is a traditional Mexican dish; a frequently spicy soup made with tripe. It is often thought of as a cure for a hangover, and is traditionally served on special occasions or with family. In pre-revolutionary Mexico, poverty among the campesinos was chronic, and little if anything that might be prepared as food was left to waste. Usually, the best cuts of meat would go to the hacienda owners while the offal went to the peasants. These leftovers consisted of organ meats, brains, head, tails, hooves, etc. As cattle and sheep are ruminants that require lengthy intestinal tracts to digest their diet of grasses and raw seeds, the stomach is one of the largest pieces of offal available from these animals.

There are a number of variations on menudo, including blanco (white or clear), verde (green), or rojo (red). Typical condiments added to menudo are dried oregano, epazote, ground chile flakes, lime juice, fresh cilantro and chopped onion. Due to the length of time needed to cook tripe to be tender enough to be edible, menudo is generally cooked in large batches and sold as a special menu item in Mexican restaurants, although it is occasionally prepared at home. In some areas menudo is sold as a weekend-only specialty in regular restaurants (typically announced by signs reading Rico Menudo fines de semana). In other areas, menudo is made daily, but mostly sold in restaurants and market stalls (fondas) that specialize in the dish.

Goddammit. I just bought tripe soup.

Knowing what it was, I finally unveiled my terrifying dinner. Alright. Looks like soup with... vague stuff in it. I stirred it and one of the chunks bobbed to the top.

Oh.

Hell.

No.

I shit you not, I almost became vegetarian on the spot. All the bravado I had exhibited in the restaurant had faded, leaving only a squeamish girl and a styrofoam bowl.

I CAN DO THIS I CAN DO THIS I CAN DO THIS.

I took a taste of the broth.

Not bad. Spicy. A bit meaty but kind of a... strange taste.

(fuckingcoworsheepstomach!)

Alright.

Now let's get ballsy.

I went in for a chunk.

Scooped.

Lifted.

Deposited in my mouth.

Chewed.

Swallowed.

No thanks.

I tried my damnedest to eat the broth and got about 10% of it down (this was a BIG container), but then all those horrible looking (and I tell you, the chunks were HORRIBLE looking; weird, spongy, white blobs) pieces o' tripe began to gather in numbers at the top of the soup and I gave up. I had put up a valiant fight, but my pride finally gave out to my dislike of bizarre internal organ food. Mark it right up there with "chicken livers" as things I have tried as an adult an and find wildly disgusting.

Thank god it came with tortillas. For dessert, I had old Halloween candy.

Wow.

On a side-note, I think it's HILARIOUS that a band notorious for casting off members for getting too old has the same name as a Mexican soup made of cast-off parts of an animal. According to Wikipedia, "Menudo (from Latin minūtus) also means 'small, thin, worthless, vulgar, (money) change'...", but in Puerto Rico, it also means "young folks".

Who's got two thumbs and learned a valuable lesson today?

Ridiculous

2008-04-29T12:24:00.000-07:00

I do tend to overthink things. And by "things" I mean "everything".

Right now, I'm trying to decide where to go to lunch.
Do I go to the very close corner deli and get a burrito and chips for $3.50 or do I take a walk over and up Westwood and try out a Persian sandwich place I've been reading about? I don't know how much the sandwiches cost. I'm not even sure exactly where it is. Vaguely, yes.

I'm also feeling foggy-headed. Maybe I should go to the place where I don't have to cross many streets. My legs are also hurting from La Cage rehearsal.

That's it.
I'm getting the burrito.

One of these days, I'll get that sandwich though. Most likely not after dance rehearsal and cold medicine.

Must be strong...

2008-04-09T10:39:00.000-07:00

I suck at planning surprises for people.

Don't get me wrong, I plan EXCELLENT surprises. They're generally unexpected... except when I blow the surprise because I have to talk about it. I'm awesome like that. I spend a bunch of time trying to figure out the best gift or party idea or meal for someone, come up with a great idea AND THEN I WANT TO TELL THEM! Because I'm excited and I know THEY'll be excited and I want us to be excited about it together because I'll be slightly disenchanted with the awesomeness by the time their birthday/christmas/party comes around. And I know that the other person's excitement will inspire new excitement when they finally get their surprise... but it's REALLY hard not to talk about it.

I can't even really talk about it HERE for fear that the person will somehow stumble upon this blog and blow the surprise! Dammit!

Oh forget it! I'm done not-talking about it.

Obligatory post-Rogue post.

2008-03-15T15:47:00.000-07:00

Apparently, post-Rogue is in vogue.

(God, I'm witty. Or something.)

Anyhow, my cohorts and I have been having a bit of trouble re-acclimating ourselves to life after Fresno seeing as we not only had an awesome time, but we also a) got bigger audiences than we ever get in LA, b) didn't have to beg or guilt ANY of our audience members to get them there, and c) actually turned a profit while d) doing something that makes us happy.

And now we're back to normal.

Back to our own Valley. Back to survival jobs. Back to the struggle of trying to make happiness, success, fulfillment and financial security merge in some way.

It kind of sucks.

I know I'm feeling a bit low just because for the first time since... shit, sometime last spring, I don't have a show to work on. Hence, I'm scrabbling for any audition I can get myself into. I feel like I'm wasting my time if I'm not. It's weird though, because even though I'm nervous about how little I have going on right now, I'm kind of sinking into it and over-compensating by really, really doing nothing. Staying in bed way too late, letting junk pile up on my floor, sitting around watching movies instead of finding something productive to do. I did make soup and bread from scratch the other day, so that was good. And then I let my vain-consumer-side take over and I bought a new pair of shoes. But that's the thing: these have been the highlights of my days. Oh, and I saw a couple shows yesterday, but nothing that made me feel like I was doing anything. Except when I edited some stuff I shot last year and I did clean my room today...

Maybe I'm doing more than I realize, but I'm not registering it because it's all taking place inside my apartment.

It's not that bad, I guess. I just need to get back to my old swing. And maybe a new swing or two.

RE: 2 blogs ago

2008-02-13T11:13:00.001-08:00

I just got an email last night... and I TOTALLY won those fuckin sweats!

My wit got me sweatpants! NICE!
Here's the article from Stylephile:

Alternative Apparel winner

America is hungry for lounge-about clothes that you can go to the gym in, judging from the response to our Alternative Apparel competition a few weeks ago. We asked what activities—or inactivities—you would partake of while wearing items from the super comfy line, and the responses ranged from lazy ("I'd cook up lots of comfort foods -- mashed potatoes, grilled cheese, steaming cups of hot cocoa") to cerebral ("I would certainly be more comfortable studying for my qualifying exam for my PhD!") to flirty ("If I won this outfit I would wear it when I answered the door so the cute UPS guy might finally think I'm cute and ask me out!").In the end though, I went for this upbeat answer by Dana, whose sassy optimism and masterful storytelling hit just the right note.

"I'll wake up the morning and face the question, "Hmmm, bathrobe or Alternative Apparel sweats?" And then I'll throw on the sweats. Being dressed, maybe I'll take a walk around the block, lookin' supa-fine and making my neighbors supa-jealous. I'll cruise on home, stretch my legs and prepare for my day. That's when I look in the mirror, say "I look awesome!" and go straight to work. The building I work in has a workout facility and everyone will ask me all day where I got the sweet gear. After work, I'll head on out to my play rehearsal, where my friends will ask suspiciously, "Weren't you wearing that last time we saw you?" And I'll say, "Yes, but I washed it." And maybe it'll even be true."

Silly, maybe

2008-01-23T11:19:00.000-08:00

It's sad. That's all the input that I really have.
Any untimely death is sad.

I don't know why I feel so bummed about the death of Heath Ledger. I think it might have something to do with the fact that he seemed to have just hit his stride in his career. He had some silly movies behind him, some terrible movies behind him, and he had just hit a crop of really good projects that allowed him to stretch himself as an actor. I feel like there was so much just on the horizon for him. After he lost the Oscar for "Brokeback Mountain", I remember thinking that it was okay, that it was his first nomination and if he kept this up, he'd have many years of nominations ahead of him. It's just sad to think that now he won't.

And it makes me think about my friends. How devastated I would be if it were one of them.

Everybody just has to take care of themselves. And anybody else that will let you take care of them.

I swear I had something to blog about...

2008-01-22T10:44:00.000-08:00

Blog blog blog
borg borg borg

ummmmm

What WAS I going to say?

*sigh*

Well, um, I applied today to try to win a free pair of really nice sweats (because I would never buy them). They said to tell them where/why you would wear these nice sweats if you won them. At the end of the day, they're picking the best one. I sent in some rambling-ass tale where I end up wearing them on a walk, to work, and to rehearsal where someone finally calls out the fact that I'm wearing the same thing as the last time they saw me. And I make up an excuse that possibly implies that I wear the same thing for many days in a row without changing or washing. I don't think I'm going to win. However, when I sent it in, all the others were like "while sitting on my couch" or "while playing DDR". Not nearly as interesting.

I could win those sweats.

I should be looking over my scripts some more, but I 've had too much coffee and can't concentrate. Ooh. Maybe I should file these papers and do actual work?

Maybe later. Right now I have to check each of my emails 5 times in rapid succession and check my planner to make sure there's nothing I forgot to write down since I last checked.

Marco!
Polo!

The show must mother-fucking go on.

2008-01-14T12:45:00.000-08:00

I feel like I've been swearing a lot in my various emails, blogs and bulletins today. I'm just feeling kind of ferocious, fiercely adamant and ready to smack down anyone who stands in the way.

DK's "Are You Delicious?" opens tomorrow.
And it's going to be wonderful.
And we're going to have an awesome time because that is why we are doing it in the first place.
And people are going to come see us.
And we are going to get a good review (not that it matters that much).

Because if we go out there and half-ass it tomorrow, it's going to break my goddamn heart.

See? Why the swearing? Is it necessary?
Maybe. I mean, that was the exact phrase that went though my head, so at least it's honest.

But the show is going to rock.
No question about it.

ZJU
4850 Lankershim Blvd., NoHo
8:30pm, Tuesdays through Feb. 19
$12

Jason Reitman, BE MY FRIEND!!!

2007-12-17T11:38:00.000-08:00

*sigh*

I'm a little keyed up this morning. But in a fun and exuberant way.
I'm flying out tomorrow, leaving the state for the first time since this time last year, have 4 cups of coffee in me, nothing to do at my office job and I've checked both of my emails an obscene number of times. I'm beyond stoked about the impending DK 4.0 (name pending) as it's going to be chaos and calamity of the highest and most entertaining order. And then while on MySpace, aimlessly trolling, I saw that one of my very favorite directors, Jason Reitman, was in the Featured Film-Makers section. I looked at his page and... he totally uses that thing, and after hearing him talk at the Juno screening through Creative Screenwriting Magazine (yay Jeff!), I decided I liked him even more. Not just as a wonderful writer/director, but because he seems like a freaking cool guy. Then I read his blog and seems to have mentioned, while he was on the road, going to some local shows.

Hence, this is my new request.

Dear Santa,

For Christmas this year, I want Jason Reitman to be my friend. And I want him to come see DK 4.0 (name pending) and I want him to bring Diablo Cody. Then I want her to be my friend. Then I want all my friends to get to be in their movies. Then we'll all be friends and dance around in a big happy circle of creativity and laughter.

And an agent. And a new cellphone too. That would be pretty sweet.

But mostly, I want Jason Reitman to be my friend.

Love sincerely,
Dana DeRuyck

PS: I also want a pony.

That's me, getting into the spirit of the holidays.
For now, I'll settle for being MySpace friends.

Dreams dashed before I dared to dream

2007-12-09T11:23:00.000-08:00

(OK, so maybe THAT's a bit melodramatic.)

So I went to see Hollywood Trash play at the Los Angeles Derby Dolls championship gam last night. They sounded great, another band (Jessie Deluxe) also rocked out, and the match was thrilling from start to finish.

While watching those bad-ass chicks whipping around the rink as I thought up potential Derby Doll names for myself (Dana-mite? Carol Burn It? Skate Crime? <= Matt's), I thought "Man, I wanna do that! If only I were tougher and better at skating." Then, the announcer rattled off something about how they allow prospective new chicks come in and try their hand at the Derby life during the week. I was ecstatic. Right when I got home, I looked up the Derby Dolls page for more info.
This is what I found

I am missing a crucial element, apparently.

Nevermind that I can be a bit of a cupcake.
Nevermind that I'm not a great skater.

Health insurance.
Bane of my existence.

It makes sense though. I mean, it's a violent fucking sport and they don't have the funds to cover anyone. Plus, it's pretty damn likely that you or someone else is going to get hurt. They don't want anyone to get into trouble, including them, so it's a totally valid policy.

Still bums me out though.
Ah well. Better go find something else in the apartment to paint.

SPICE NUTS

2007-10-15T15:47:00.000-07:00

*to the Batman theme*

duh-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
duh-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Spice nuts!
duh-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
duh-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Spice nuts!
Spice nuts!
SPICE NUTS!

...
I'm sitting at work, bored and caffinated, eating the Casablanca Trek Mix from Trader Joe's which I am now referring to as... well, you know...

Duh-na-na-na-na-na-na-na!
Spice nuts!!!!!

"I'm so-oo-o tired, my mind is on the brink..."

2007-10-11T08:34:00.000-07:00

I've been achy for the last couple days too. Part of it, I'm blaming on sitting hunched over the new throw pillows I made (which are truly superfuckinsweet). However this is too much achiness. I keep sleeping funny too. Grrr.

I am, in truth, all kinds of busy these days. I have a play opening in (goddammit) 12 days, a showcase in a few weeks, the Best of DK show upcoming, one of my jobs just offered me another regular day (which I accepted), another job I've been having to stave off booking shifts, my parents are coming to town at the end of the month and, oh yeah, I'm moving. PS Matt and Greg. Looked at my planner yesterday and realized, Oh yeah, I need to get on that. Yikes.

Looking at my schedule... I thought I was going to have all kinds of time this month. Now it turns out that I, well, DON'T.

And I have to paint my pretty room. *sigh* That honestly just breaks my heart.

One of those days

2007-09-18T10:48:00.000-07:00

Not the bad type!

No, it's one of those days where I really wish I could hang out outside. Today it's about 60 degrees and cloudy south of the hill and right now, I wish I could grab a cup of coffee, a light sweater and go hang out on the beach. THIS is my idea of a good beach day. When there is wind splashing the water around and you get a good sea breeze blowing straight into your face. The kind of day where you feel like you're on a boat in the middle of the ocean with all the security of being on land.

Nope. I'm at work. *fart noise*

Near crisis in my Material World

2007-08-28T11:26:00.000-07:00

This is so stupid I had to tell someone.

So last Tuesday I left a pair of earrings at Matt and Greg's that I had taken off because I was hula-hooping. (Note to self: get a hula-hoop.) I picked them up the next time I was over there and put them into the little inner pocket of my purse. You know the one: the one where anything you don't want readily available to the first person you ask to grab your keys. Tampons, condoms, anything vagina related, oftentimes cold medicine, band-aids, etc. The point is, that's where I put my earrings.

Let me say right now that I have a bad habit of losing earrings. I don't lose both of them, I only ever lose one. And it's usually from a pair I really like and wear all the time. So since I love that stupid earring, I can't get rid of it and it goes into my craft bag/single-earring-graveyard until I can find a way to keep it with me.

The earrings I put into my purse were, without a doubt, my very favorites. Big blue circles of shell, kind of shiny and sparkly but never over the top. I get compliments on them nearly every time I wear them. These are my go-to earrings in a pinch. So of course, when I went to fish them out about half an hour ago and I found ONE... I was displeased.

I refused to believe it. Not a-fucking-gain.
Even though I was at work, I pulled all my unmentionables out into my lap, praying that the moving guys carting the piano upstairs would not come in to ask me anything right at this moment.
But it wasn't there.
Shit. Shit shit shit.

Now here's something you need to know about my purse: it eats things. No, really. It wasn't until I couldn't find my wallet but felt it in my enourmous bag that I discovered the giant hole in the lining. I pulled out the hair pomade I thought I lost, about $2 in change and pens that I kept accusing people of stealing. This was the first place I went to looking for the earring.
Nope.
FUCK.
I pulled everything out of my purse. My purse is the size of some people's backpacks, so that's a lot of stuff.
Nowhere.
It was about this point that I actually began to panic. These weren't anything that I could replace. I got them at some store in Canada that I was probably never going to see again. I'd already cursed the day that I didn't buy every color they had of these earrings. More than that, I really liked them. I started getting way too worked up about the earrings. In a fit of refusal to let them go, I made a huge sweep in the underlining of my purse, feeling around every square inch of available space.
And there it was. A little worse for wear, stuck underneath the bottom-most interior of my bag. But there.

I need to keep better track of my earrings.
And maybe, just maybe, I need a smaller purse.

Gettin' that old "consumer" feeling all over again.

2007-08-21T15:44:00.000-07:00

Maybe I can pin this on Greg. He keeps talking about new clothes and stuff and it's making me go, "Awwwwwwwww, I want new clothes too!" But it doesn't stop there, mostly because I won't allow myself to go shopping in this condition (heaven forbid I come home with a full new outfit). I browsed around online at stuff, gradually scaling down to the "sale" category items. That was when things took a whole new turn. Apartment goods.

With the possibility of an impending move lurking in my head, I can't help but a) take inventory of what I have and b) figure out what I need to get while c) discovering many things I don't need, could use but can't afford. Ah, the most depressing category. But at least with these there's no real danger of me buying them.

Alas, then I begin to plot out cheap items that I need (good Dana) in addition to things that are of no real consequence but don't cost much either (back on track, cowgirl!). This category is why IKEA is so damn dangerous. If you don't go in there with a list on a search and destroy mission, you are coming out with a set of Fler candles and holders ($4.99) or the Slatthult wall decals ($15.99), nay, or both!

But this sets me on maybe the most dangerous track of all: trying to make my apartment look cool without having to pay too much. Which will inevitably end up costing more than I expect and taking up large tracts of time as I sew pillows out of some damn Swedish fabric inexplicably named Belinda, affordably priced at $3.99 a yard.

I better just buy those fucking $10 shoes and get it over with.

You know, just in case.

2007-08-20T16:11:00.001-07:00

Been reading a few issues of Entertainment Weekly that I've been neglecting and you know, they're making me think.

Oh, no, not in a relevatory, life-changing, "what am I doing with my life/career?" type of way. No no no. EW, as much as I love it, doesn't generate that kind of thought. Except that Chris Nashawaty article on Jackie Earle Haley. Seriously.

Anyhow, I was reading all these articles where celebrities are like, "Oh I'm really into this right now and this book/author is absolutely tops and I can't live without this food and this is my favorite album ever."
And it got me thinking.
Well, first it got me thinking "Oooh, what would I say if I were famous and being asked about my favorite things?" And I was eating these Trader Joe's Everything-flavor Pretzel Slims. This was how my thought process was going...

"I'd definitely say these pretzel things. Trader Joe's in general. Food in more general. Food. Wine." (looking around) "There's that Anthony Bourdain book. Not crazy about this one, but Anthony Bourdain could be on the list. Oh, there's my planner. Day planners. Yeah. Can't live without them. And post-its. I really like the color of my planner. That shade of blue; that's going on the list. Hmmmmmm..." (looking more) "Those cheap, semi-disposable Glad-Ware containers. Can't live without those. Food. Already have that. Alright, music. Ummmm, what's in my CD player? What was the last song I listened to? Yeah. THAT's going on the list..."

And on and on.

This could go on forever. I would hate to be the person who interviewed me and asked about my favorite things. They'd have to devote an entire issue to me. Plus, most of them would be things that were immediately in front of me or fresh in my mind. By the time the issue came out, I might not even like half of them anymore. It would be about as useful as the damn In/Out/Five Minutes Ago "Shaw Report".

Latest EW issue says...
In: Plumcots.
Out: Tangelos.
Five minutes Ago: Tomaccos.

*sigh*

I've just exahusted myself.
I need some coffee.
Coffee is definitely on the list.

That was close... too close...

2007-08-14T10:32:00.000-07:00

So, upon heading out to my car this morning, I saw something on my windshield.

I went closer. It was a piece of paper.
Shit.
A little closer. Too large to be a ticket.
Whew!
I grab the paper.
It reads, "Can you please call me; you hit my front bumper. My number is blah blah blah, Thanks, Erick."

Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck.

So I go home, get myself ready for work and head out, the whole time worrying about this note. I have to call him. Chances are if he wrote out a full note on blank computer paper, he got my license plate. Not calling would make everything worse. What if he's an extortionist? What if he saw the dent in my back bumper and decided he was going to try and milk some money out of me (not knowing that this cow is pretty dry)? What if I did hit him and cause damage? Should I just pay the guy what he wants? I can't pay to cosmetically fix my own car, let alone his! Should I just go to my insurance company, let them handle it and then charge me out the wazoo? I can't afford to lose my "good driver" status!

So I called him.
Just a little paint scratch. One of many for him. He was planning on repainting the bumper anyway. This has just been happening to him a lot since he moved to LA a year ago. He was very understanding and doesn't want anything from me. He just wanted me to know and to be more careful.
And I'm grateful.
And hugely relieved.
But at the same time, I can't help thinking,
"Welcome to LA, buddy. If this is the worst that happens to you, count yourself lucky."

But still... WHEW!

This is how I know Greg is bored.

2007-08-10T09:06:00.001-07:00

When Greg is bored, he reads my blog. If the last posting is really old, he'll bug me to put up a new one. This is cannot fault him for because, frankly, I do the same thing to him. Ha ha.

Well, frankly, I'm kind of bored too. Not in a "dear god please kill me" kind of way but more in a "the day has just begun and I'm idle" way.

Thoughts for the day:

Weak coffee with Irish Cream Coffeemate will always make me think of high-school and the music hallway.

Most jobs that I bitch and moan about, when I think about it, aren't really that bad. And I don't really mind them that much.

I am a wimp. Anytime I do something remotely physical, I hurt the next day. However, I highly doubt this will lead me to exercise.

I have no idea why most peanut butters have so much damn sugar.

I wonder if a peanutbutter-peach pie would be any good. Someone asked me about htis combination the other day. I think it could work.

I think my shoe is going to break. I figure I'll wear it until it does... but it's really going to suck when I'm out somewhere for the day with a broken shoe.

I am really glad that Dynamite Kablammo is still together.

Meh, that's all for now.

I think I've been ignoring computers.

2007-07-02T17:43:00.000-07:00

Not consciously. Not actively. Not even really ignoring as I'm fine about checking my email. I guess I just started to ignore blogging because A) I had less boredom time around computers and B) nobody really reads this and it is mainly for me to be less bored at work. I haven't made an entry since well before I quit my last job. Now I have a whole new office job.

"A new fantastic point of view! No one to tell us no or where to--"

Alright, enough of that. But it's funny because, even though this job is just another office job, it's SO low key! It's just me. In an office. There is a coffee machine and refrigerator in the office. I have full internet access. The phone barely rings. The few times it did ring today, 8 out of 10 times, it was a fax machine. The other two were looking for the other girl who works here and didn't even want to leave a message. And sure it's boring and sure there isn't much to do. So what? This is like having off-time that gives me a few random tasks and keeps me away from the TV. I can read, I can keep up on my audition notices and I can get things done that I've been putting off, like logging my new recipes before I lose them.

This is good. This is all good. Now if I could get a few hours at my other job, I'd be really really happy.

Holy crap! I have a life!

2007-05-03T13:36:00.000-07:00

It's an astonishing realization for me, having held the impression that I am a wholly boring individual with nothing going on for the past couple of months. All of a sudden, I'm feeling a backlash. A backlash of stuff.
I HAVE THINGS TO DO.

Once I got bored, I started creating ideas of things to do once _________(insert thing I've been putting off) happens. And then I got bored and took care of those things, like my heretofore dormant computer (thanks for the kick in the pants, Matt!). Now that my computer's up and running, I've got all these projects I want to do ASAP. I have programs I want to play with. I completely forgot how much time I can kill just playing around on a computer without internet.

Then there's other things: that class I decided to take is now overlapping with the play I got into and the movie social club Matt and I are putting together. The short DK's been plotting is finally coming up. A few more auditions I set up are on the plate. I worked on a game show for extra cash (and fun, of course). I'm applying for new jobs, even having to turn down jobs that don't fit my needs (because I DO have things going on!). I'm reading audiobooks for the blind in my spare time because it's something different and the other volunteers are a blast. And around all that is the stuff that other friends of mine have going on that I like to take part in (music, plays, movies, etc). I'm getting out on my bike and getting exercise.

When did I get busy again? Wow!

Maybe thoughts really DO become things... well, at least things to do.

Return of the "old voice"

2007-04-25T18:25:00.000-07:00

Faithful readers of my MySpace blog (ok, one or two people) may recall an insanely hot day last summer when I kept hearing commentary in my head as done by an old person. I was looking at sandals and I kept thinking, in a cartoonish old person voice, "Gonna get yourself some flim-flams? How about some flim-flams? You kids and your flim-flams..." and so forth.

It came back today.

I was having a particularly mind-numbing day at work in the mailroom, where the radio was woefully tuned to KISS FM. Lame to begin with. I heard that "nobody wanna see us together" song by Akon at least 7 times. But the last few times, the old person voice kicked in.

"Who's this 'Acorn' fella? What kind of a name is Acorn? The kids these days sure seem to like that Acorn."

This can't be good.
Some part of my brain is clearly aging at mach speed.

Patience. Serenity. A Dana craves not these things.

2007-04-11T15:41:00.000-07:00

SO I've finally decided to actively search for a new job. And because I don't have the balls or the financial cushion to quit and give myself over to the universe, I'm waiting until I have something lined up before I leave. Which only serves to make each day here... not more unbearable, just more disposable. Apparently, it IS possible for me to care less.

Someone just made popcorn. Dammit. I'm going to smell that for the rest of my shift.

What is it about the smell of popcorn that, in addition to sparking unbearable cravings, travels like nobody's business. And lingers! Oh, the lingering!

Anyhow, now comes the point in a job search when I apply for stuff and maybe never hear from them again, all the while fixating on how great it would be to get that job until the moment I finally decide to give up hope and obsess over another potential job. If I could only adopt the same mentality that I have with casting notices and auditions: just go in, do my best and forget I was ever there. The thing is that I go on more auditions and send out WAY more acting resumes than job interviews so one seems more natural to me than the other.

One of my big problems lies in the fact that I will oftentimes find a handful of great opportunities at once. I think to myself, "These would be great! Hold out for one of these!" And then they fall through. Then it's a while before another handful comes along. In truth, it's been a while since I actively pursued one of these clumps of luck, so this could work out better. All I know now is that I'd REALLY like to hear back from somebody.

Wish me luck, universe.

My least favorite flower

2007-04-05T14:06:00.000-07:00

Lilies.

They smell gross.
They smell like church and death.
They are sitting on the desk right in front of me.
And sure, they're kind of pretty.
But they
smell
gross.

It's like... say you meet someone really attractive. Almost on the flashy and extravagant side, but very attractive. The problem is that they have really bad BO. Either that or they wear way too much cologne. Regardless, you meet them at the same time as another very attractive person, one a little more tasteful and much nicer, more subtle smelling.

Would you not prefer the one who smelled better and was just as good-looking?
Is my nose too sensitive?
WHY ARE LILIES SO DAMNED POPULAR??

Voluntary time off

2007-03-28T13:54:00.000-07:00

What does this mean to me? Well, for starters, it means weekdays that I typically spend working that I have elected to spend making no money at all, not counting days spent going out of town because others want me in another state. This week, however, it includes time that I have elected to spend working on some film student's short instead of earning income.

Now personally, I would rather take "voluntary time off" to relax and reward myself for all the hard work I do, spend the day working on furthering my career or cleaning my apartment. Alas, it is not to be. I had plotted out a concept of taking off one day a month designated as a "career day". Unfortunately, as soon as I implemented this, I got a summons for jury duty. Lame. Then I booked the student film (less lame), so it looks like "me" time during the hours of 8:30 and 5:30 Monday-Friday is not to be. For now at least.

But I musn't think of it that way! I chose to take these days off. I chose this over that. I can't bemoan the fact that I'm not making money because it was my decision.

Next week on jury duty, however, is a whole different story.

Begin the bemoan.

Everything's coming up Dana!

2007-03-22T13:12:00.000-07:00

So I was kind of scared about today. Not only did I have a dentist appointment scheduled (haven't in about 4 years) to squeak in over my lunch hour, I also have a musical audition this afternoon (which I haven't done in about 3 years).

Now, I'm not one of those people who gets scared of the dentist's pointy implements and propensity to poke me in the gums with them. No no no. I'm scared of dentists the same way I'm scared of mechanics. I don't want them to find something "dire" that I can't afford to fix. Something they'll charge me out the wazoo for. Something that doesn't really need to be done, but they say it does. Especially since this was the first time I've had a dentist who wasn't the father of one of my friends.

This said, it went great. I mean, the x-ray tech's personality left a bit to be desired but the dentist himself and the hygenist were super sweet. And I had no cavities and they didn't pressure me to set another appointment right away. All in all, it was a totally pleasant trip to the dentist.

This seems to be par for the course for the last few days. Things just seem to be going my way. I got cast in a short film, I got my tax return back in time to sign up for the UCB class I wanted to take, I set up a couple of auditions, figured out a program that was giving me crap, have been cooking well, am going to karaoke tonight, rollerskating on Saturday, a few things up in the air and I might get a bike this weekend.

In the immortal words of Mr. Robert Quinn, "Hell yeah!"

*15 minutes later*

Would you believe that someone just handed me the most delicious peanut butter cookie I've ever had along with a bag of baked goods for my department FOR FREE??

I don't what's gotten into the universe today, but I like it.

Gotta quit while I'm ahead... and by "ahead" I mean "alive".

2007-03-13T13:15:00.000-07:00

I feel like my job is giving me indigestion, acid reflux and raising my heart rate in an unhealthy way. Not like, through exercise, but through the fact that when the phone starts ringing like it does, I start to feel anxious. Sometimes I get twinges of pain in my chest (like now). Sometimes it gives me that knots-in-my-stomach feeling. Sometimes I feel like I can't draw a full breath and I just feel deflated.

Now considering that I answer phones for a living, that's fucking pathetic.
I need out.

And I'm looking.

*Addendum: half an hour later*

Can I just state for the record that no matter how bad the universe craps on me, I'm not giving in and giving up on what I want. So the prospect of getting a weekend run for J&G in Palm Springs has flaked out. Oh well! So we won't be doing anything with DK for a while. I can wait! So I got called up for jury duty at the beginning of the month. Annoying, but not terminal. So I can't file my taxes until I find a form that I'm not sure I have. Whoopee! So the callback I went on got me oh-so-close, but they "made other choices". Add that one to the list! I've got things on the horizon, I just don't fucking know what they are yet! I'm running low on money and I'm sure will be lower still at some point in the near future, but it's not going to kill me. I'm not broke, I'm not going broke. I'll be fine. I might be bored and frustrated and financially strapped, but I'll be fine I tell you! They don't want me? I don't want them! Clearly it's not in the cards. But something, something has to be.

Right?

Really? REALLY??

2007-03-08T12:53:00.000-08:00

*sigh*

I know the subject of my frustration with my office's blocking of webistes that I want to access, mainly MySpace, has come up before. I've learned to accept that. I'm coping.

Now they got a new firewall system. And this one also blocks Craigslist, which I have been using as of late to troll for jobs.

DOUCHEBAGS!

It's not like I'm slacking on my job. I just don't have much of a job to do to begin with. I answer phones, sort the occasional fax and stuff mail. I have a lot of downtime.

This place sucks.
At least I can still get here.
For now.

I am a Power Ranger! (What?)

2007-03-06T13:11:00.000-08:00

I don't know. Ignore that.

What I'm trying to say is that I've been on Power mode lately. As in "I've got shit going on so get the fuck out of my way 'cause I'll knock you over with my Power" mode. Or something. Look at that, I can't even be confident in my confidence.

NO! I've been on a big kick to get my shit together, not be afraid of failure, put together a reel, go on as many auditions as I can worm my way into, meet people who can help me, not get comfortable in the life I'm in as it is not the life I ultimately want and... you know... stuff.

I keep getting ideas. Ideas of things I want to do, want to try, want to stop. I want to get a bike. I want to get outside more. I want to see more of the pretty parts of California and not just the San Fernando Valley. I want to try making bagels. I want to learn to cook tofu properly. I want to become an good cook, not just a pretty good cook. I want to be able to properly execute complex dishes without them coming out tasting fine but looking like crap. I want to eat and live healthier. I want to be able to keep plants alive, more than 1 at a time. I want to hang up my star lanterns on my porch. I want to make my apartment nice looking in a way that indicates that the person who lives in the place has their shit together. I want to get a new couch. I want to get a new job. I want to be able to go through a work day without a phone ringing 200 times in my ear.

Altight. Enough of that. I'm gonna go figure out how to make one of these things happen.

To the "question" people:

2007-02-28T12:51:00.000-08:00

I know the world is a big, strange, wonderful place. I know that there are so many things to know and learn about. I know that we can only grow and expand our minds by seeking knowledge from unexpected places.

This said, I am not that place.

I might look like a font of information, especially with my glasses on. I'm a smart girl. I read a lot. I've been here awhile and have picked up a few things along the way. I'm happy to tell you the things you should know.

Not 10 times in rapid succession.
Not for a straight 8 hours.
And I really have no interest in walking you through what you "might" do in a hypothetical situation. Don't make up questions just so I can answer them! I don't want to!

FURTHERMORE, do not ask me random questions about what you see on my computer screen! If it's something I want to discuss with you, trust me, I will.

And please don't ask what it's like to "keep plugging away" at an acting career. It's depressing. Thinking about it depresses me. In fact in order to keep at it, I need to block out how much like running headlong into walls it truly is. Don't remind me. Don't tell me about a scene you saw in the movie "A Star Is Born" where the lead girl tries to get a job only to be told she's got about a one in 10-million shot but she sticks her plucky little chin out and says something vapid like, "I'm going to be that one!" and then marches herself out of the studio and DON'T TELL ME THAT! I know that! I know how many people there are trying to do the same thing I am! I'm ignoring them. Thinking about them scares me and if there's one thing I don't need, it's fear. And while I'm not one for blind optimism, fear's not my thing either.

I'm not as angry as I sound right now. I'm just frustrated.

Question people...

Snap out of it!

2007-02-23T13:55:00.000-08:00

It's no secret that I am, how do you say, susceptible to bad moods and negativity. If it's around me, it hits. If it hits, it sticks. I recognized the extent to which I do this about midway through last year and resolved to change. I keep resolving to change, but it's a work in progress. There are always going to be days when something pisses me off. And when something pisses me off, I want to tell someone about it to get it out of my system. And while that makes me feel better, I need to realize that this only perpetuates the negativity and passes my bad vibes to them, bringing them down. This isn't fair. I need to find a way to make myself feel better and purge myself of the negativity without spreading it to others.

However at the same time, if it's a person I spend a lot of time around, I feel compelled to tell them what happened during my day. It's what I do. I talk, a lot, and I have a tendency to pull conversation topics from things that happened to me in the very recent past. Sometimes they are good, sometimes they are not.

So... what do I do?
Do I only talk about the good things that happen to me during the day? Because that sounds boring. And phony. At the same time, I don't want to drive people I care about away by having a bad attitude. Moreover, after having brought up the crappier points of my day, the realization that I am bringing others down completely depresses me.
I don't want to be that person.
I don't want to be that other person either.

Well, fuck, this has gotten more depressing than I intended. This was not my initial point at all. I got sidetracked. Bad Dana. My point was that I am trying to be more positive.

Now I was having a conversation with this woman I just met this morning who was brimming over, bursting to talk about this movie she saw (3 times yesterday, in fact) called "The Secret". I know very little about the film other than Greg watched it and seemed to have a similar response, and that Oprah is now promoting it. Ah, the bond between Oprah and Greg! (That's not fair, I can't make fun of him while he's in the desert.)

Anyhow, she was talking about how in order to get what you want, you have to "ask for it". By this, I took it to mean that you have to really want it, accept that it is what you want from your life. Which I can accept as a reason why I have yet to succeed at acting, seeing as I have trouble even admitting aloud that to be a successful actress is what I ultimately want. Therefore until I can admit that I want to act professionally, I won't.

So that's why I'm saying this:
I want to be an actress. A real one. I want to get paid for it and I want it to be my job. I don't want to have to work at a crappy office answering phones. I want to be an actress.

Take that, universe.

A man, a woman, a death wish.

2007-02-21T16:59:00.000-08:00

What kind of moron says to a woman, any woman, "Have you gained weight?"
A man who hates his balls?

SERIOUSLY!

(Thanks, Leroy.)

Oh god, what have I done?

2007-02-13T13:09:00.000-08:00

So you know that stretch of big fun I was talking about? It's panning out to be exhausting. After this weekend, I needed another weekend. Sunday night was not enough re-coop time (however Matt and I made some serious sweet and sour chicken). Then after dragging myself through the Monday workday, I went rollerskating with the gang for Greg's birthday. I was stoked. I was psyched. I was ready.

I was wrong.
Oh my god, I completely forgot how exhausting rollerskating is. And it doesn't really feel like it at the time (unless your knee starts hurting because the DJ won't freaking switch directions) but it will wear your ass down. Upon getting back to Matt's, I was down for good. Then I didn't sleep well because my stomach was acting up (stupid roller-rink corn dog!). So I was still exhausted. Then I burned up all my adrenaline going to an audition this morning, so now I'm super tired. And I have a show tonight. One I have to understudy for. And I have to go straight there after work.

I want a nap!
Was that an earthquake?
What a weird day...

The wheels of progress will eventually tape you to its spokes.

2007-02-09T12:57:00.000-08:00

That is the lesson I have learned today.
After a good long time of resisting the "change over to new Google Blogger", I was held up and forced to convert. Dammit. I refused to change over when Yahoo Mail tried their beta thing, which ultimately didn't work out because it was slow as fuck (and not in a good way) and it went away. Apparently this is catching on and functioning because I have been strong-armed into change.

This better pan out.
Just a warning.

Oh man, I'm so bluffing. I couldn't be pissed off today if I tried. (This is not a challenge!) I had an okay morning, a totally pleasant lunch and the workday is scooting right along without leaving little poopy trails behind it. Then I have a show tonight, which is always fun. It's Friday. That's good too. Then I have 2 shows tomorrow which, while it won't be relaxing, will be a whole lot of fun. DK closes tomorrow... for now. Then I make my J&G debut as Rivkah when I understudy on Sunday, which I'm dreading less today than I did yesterday. I just might have my shit together. Oy vay. I'm planning to chill the hell out on Sunday night and get all my relaxation in before I start up again on Monday. Which will STILL be fun because Monday is the beginning of Greg's birthday celebrations! A-rollerskating we will go! Then Tuesday I have a special weekday show which should bring in a fun crowd. And then Wednesday is Valentine's Day... for what that's worth. I think the last time I got really excited about a Valentine's day was 6th grade because a friend was going to be having a party. Then I got the stomach flu and bronchitis at the same time. It's lowered my expectations ever since. But anyway... the point is that I have a big fat stretch of fun ahead of me and I am fucking psyched for it.

WHOO!

I've been so much more positive lately. Thank you, Tom Robbins.
NOT TONY ROBBINS, Tom Robbins.
Everybody should read his stuff. So fun.

On a side note, I just got a very random, very abrupt and very intense craving for Andes Mint Chocolates. Not just anything minty and chocolatey will do. I need the cool smoothness of Andes on my tongue. I need the firm yet creamy texture squishing between my teeth. I need... to think about something else. This fixation will only make me crazy.

Man, I'm thirsty.
Water bottle! Where are you?

Eat my sequins, Rachael Ray!

2007-02-07T13:00:00.000-08:00

I forgot to mention this. I was so distracted by the end result of the Superbowl (ie. depression, nausea and the desire to see Rex Grossman's head on a stick), I forgot to bring up the wild success of the day: my chili. I don't know how, but it's already almost gone. Which is amazing because I had my crock pot filled literally to the brim.

I don't have the full recipe in front of me, but it was a 3-bean Chipotle Turkey Chili con Corn. And I've made some chilis before, but this is my finest formula. I'll put up the actual recipe once I get home. Maybe.

All my beautiful evil! Oh, what a world!

2007-02-07T12:46:00.000-08:00

Maybe that's a bit melodramatic.
(Typical.)

The sequins are falling off of my fabulous shoes.
If you're unfamiliar, I have a pair of cute little ballet flat style shoes absolutely decked, nay, FESTOONED with sequins of all colors. After about a year or more of relentless wear, the sequins are falling off. Now I should be thrilled they stayed on as long as they have, especially considering that I am not exactly gentle on my garments. But they are detaching at an alarming rate and I don't quite know what to do about it aside from "wear them less". I've been finding sequin shrapnel around my apartment and the floor by my desk at work twinkles far more than it should.

I got the shoes from Target sometime last year (I think). I had been eyeing them for about a week and when I finally went back and got them, my roommate Adam asked what the hell I was going to wear them with.
"Everything," I grinned.
And so I have. And it's taking its toll. This isn't a premature eulogy but merely an expression of my dismay that my shoes are on the downswing.

*sigh*

If you're looking for something insightful, keep looking.

2007-02-01T14:37:00.000-08:00

No revelations to be had here.
Not now anyway.
I have to pee too badly.

This is the crappy thing about my cubiclemate being sick. Usually if one of us has to use the restroom, we can cover for eachother. If I'm alone, I basically get my allotted breaks every few hours and that's it unless I feel like hollering over the walls and begging someone to cover the phones for me. Which I hate. I'd rather suffer for the next hour and risk the kidney failure. If it gets too bad, I'll give in. But not likely.

My throat and tongue are getting dry.
Can't drink water though.
D'ohhhhhh!

*sigh*

If I eat something salty, do you think the diuretic effects will reach my bladder? Or is it too late? Do I just have to suck it up and go to the bathroom?

Because it feels like quitting! It feels like giving in, like I can't control myself and now I need an additional bathroom break.

45 minutes. I can wait 45 minutes. I'm sitting. I have my legs crossed. I'll be fine.

I'll be fine.

*Update!*

I have 10 minutes left to go. Salty snacking proved effective as a distraction as did reading a couple of Joel Stein's articles on LAtimes.com. However, doing my job seems to do NOTHING to distract me. It takes no thought and/or concentration as I can do it while reading, eating or writing a whiny blog about my soon-to-rupture bladder.

I might die soon.
If I do... I'm sure I cared about you very deeply and I'm sure you'll miss me a lot.

Dammit, I can't even relax when I'm relaxing!

2007-01-22T20:46:00.000-08:00

So as this is a lovely free evening of mine with nothing to do and the run of the place to myself, I decide to take a bath. My shoulder/neck has been acting up again (send painkillers!) so i figure this will help my muscles to relax. I get the bathroom all set up, pour far too much bubble-solution into the water (which doesn't matter because it's cheap shit that stays bubbly for about 5 minutes), set up a few CD's I might want to listen to and attempt to enter the tub.

I say "attempt" because it took about 5 minutes of me dipping my feet in and out of the water before they could be submerged for good. Every time I tried, it felt like they were being boiled. I put my hand in to test it. No problem! My feet? No way! I rubbed my feet, attempting to get some blood to flow to the are so that I could get in sometime before the bubbles ran out. Finally worked.

So I'm in the tub. Soaking. Shoulder's feeling good. Soothing music playing. Happy times.

I'm bored.

So I scrub my feet and other dry rough patches.
Resume soaking.

Still bored.
Man, it's hot.
Really hot.
I can't get comfortable.
It's hot.
My neck hurts.
I'm bored.

So I got out.
And now my rough patches are still rough, my shoulder/neck still hurts and I reek of cheap vanilla bubblebath like I've been soaking in the heart-shaped hot tub at some cheesy trash romantic getaway hotel.

24 starts in 5.
Something to look forward to.
Sweet.

Schadenfreude

2007-01-12T13:09:00.000-08:00

I guess that's what it is. I can't think of any other reason for me to find ice-cold Californians so frickin funny.

But GOD! How entertaining is it to see people bundled up and bemoaning the weather when it's 50 degrees and sunny! Wearing heavy winter coats reserved for temperatures under the freezing point. Coming in as if they had just been on an artic expedition, blowing on their hands and wailing about how it's never been this cold EVER in the existence of everything.

Schadenfreude and hyperbole. Put together? SO FUNNY.

You know I'm working again when...

2007-01-05T14:08:00.000-08:00

Yes, that's right. I post when I'm bored at work. Now that you have this mystery figured out, you can go on with being pleased with yourself.

I'm gonna bring things down for a second.
(Go, little raincloud, go!)
All my friends are posting messages of hope for the new year. Tidings of optimism for what bounty 2007 holds for them.

It makes me want to do the opposite.
No offense, guys! I have nothing but respect for you and your positive outlooks! It's just in my nature to go against the grain. However, this is the very thing I've been trying so hard not to do. To stop mistaking pessimism for realism and optimism for idealism. And how bad is "idealism" anyway? A little naive if that's how you think things will actually go, but if it's more of a goal, then why not?

Here's my take.

I hope...
... that 2007 will be a font of success for myself and everyone I care about...
... that I will learn to grow as a human being and accept myself and my strengths (I have no problem accepting my faults) and all that crap...
... that I will be able to stop working at jobs that continually try to suck out my soul...
... that peace, joy, love, goodwill, harmony, delirious happiness and bunnies that give hugs will prevail over the world...

... but I will understand if none of this happens.

Take it or leave it.

Lame, lame and lame again!

2006-12-11T13:58:00.000-08:00

Metrocities has its firewall back up and running. Which means no MySpace. Poop.

I'm practically bursting with excitement for the new DK show! I don't even know what to do with myself, I'm so stoked. I can't eat, sleep and breathe DK because that will pay no bills. Sadly. That gets me thinking though...

Why don't my skills pay the bills? Isn't that what they're supposed to do? How is it that the only skill of mine that pays bills is my ability to talk to people as if I like them? The other day I was rambling to Greg about my latest cooking project and he asks, "Why don't you do something with that?" Like what? I don't care to make food at a restaurant, I want to create my own recipes. The only ways I could see "doing something" with my recent cooking obsession is a) culinary school (not gonna happen), b) go on one of those crappy cooking reality shows (also not gonna happen; I'm a glutton but not for punishment), or wait until I become successful enough in something else to be able to afford luxury time in which I just freaking come up with crazy recipe ideas and cook. None of these are too logical. Damn.

One of these days, I'm going to have a job that makes me money that I actually enjoy and look forward to doing. I swear. It'll happen. One of these days.

Matt was right. Everybody hates!

2006-12-05T16:24:00.000-08:00

Before delving into my blog, I implore you first to read this article.

For those of you too lazy to do so, I'll summarize. The article basically discusses how everybody shits on LA and how Angelinos are looked upon as vapid, soul-less cretins. For which part, most are. And I agree with a good deal of what the writer says. Except for one thing.

The way she talks, it's like LA is looked at as the bottom of America's societal barrel. The worst of the worst, the back of the short bus, the last kid picked for kick-ball. There's no one for our types left to pick on since everyone looks down on us.

Are you freaking kidding me? Have we forgotten about the Midwest???

The only thing Midwesterners are looked upon for favorably are strong work ethics, good crop production and the city of Chicago. Other than that, our folks in the forgotten area between coasts are looked at basically as red-state bumpkins who set the "middle America" curve and made Larry the Cable Guy famous. And also for providing a steady stream of morons into LA.

But as a representative and refugee from the Midwest, I'm here to say that we still have a group to make fun of while huddled drinking beer in our barns: Southerners. We still see them as slow, inbred hicks who are less socially enlightened than we are.

See! Everyone in America has a group they see as dumber-than-them! And while New Yorkers can defame us and our hippy-dippy attitudes, we can at least take solace in having a higher population of people than pigs. Suck it, Iowa!

Go cram Christmas!

2006-12-04T13:54:00.000-08:00

So I've been in denial of the fact that Christmas is advancing due to the fact that society has been cramming holiday cheer down my cram-hole (up my cram-hole?) for the last... well shit, since right after Halloween really. And because of this, I've been suspended in a "it's so far away it can't touch me" kind of state.

Until today when I looked at my planner and realized that I leave for Illinois 2 weeks from tomorrow. Yikes.

It's not that I'm worried about getting Christmas shopping done or any of that crap.

It's not that I'm dreading going home.

I'm not even as worried as I should be about missing 2 weeks of work.

The year is ending. Again.
This was a good year as far as years go. 2006 was really good. 2005 was OK but 2004 was pretty damn rough. And some self-proclaimed psychic named Sandra on Sunset Blvd. stopped me on the street to tell me that she noticed my aura and said I was going to have a terrific career year so... maybe it's just cause I look like a sucker, but I'd like to think I've got Sandra on my side here.

Next year looks promising.
Now let's see how the end of this one goes...

Search for the cure

2006-11-28T14:20:00.000-08:00

I'm looking for a cure for irrational paranoia.

Anyone?
Anyone?

On a side note, DK 2.0 is SO en route to being a real living breathing show! The biggest problem now is... well, being in a DK show is kind of like being in Fight Club. In that you can't talk about it. I mean, I can talk it up and tell people to go see it (and I do!) but dang, I can't wait until that show opens.

And back to my first thought, the cure to irrational paranoia is not coffee. Sadly.

Ah well.

Did I miss a memo?

2006-11-20T13:07:00.000-08:00

Did I glaze over a note on my calendar?
Miss a chain e-mail?

How was I not warned that today was National Act-Like-A-Prick Day?
Is this one of those informal holidays, like Talk-Like-A-Pirate Day?

I am literally on the verge of homicide. The only reason that I haven't killed yet today is because all of the people pissing me off are a safe phone-call away. But believe you me, the day that I figure out how to send an electrical shock through the phone lines will be a joyous one. For me. Not for those getting electro-ear-bolts. But they brought it on themselves.

Seriously though! I don't know what's gotten into people today but every other person calling in here is being a rabid, foaming cunt. I guess it must be that holiday spirit that everybody's talking about, what with the 90 degree weather and the early arrival of... CHRISTMAS MUSIC. Yup, it started already. I remember when that shit didn't start until the day after Thanksgiving. Now it's the week of Thanksgiving. Dear god.

But hey! On the upside I only have... 4 hours left in my day.
Really?
Really?

All I have to do is dream... and cook.

2006-11-13T19:02:00.000-08:00

I was supposed to do this last night. I didn't. I don't know what I was thinking.

So this morning I woke up after having one of my stupid, pointless dreams in which seemingly meaningless things happen to me. Only this time, I believe that my dreams had great things planned for me.

In my dream, I was in a fast food restaurant. Probably because I had been watching the trailer for Fast Food Nation earlier in the day, but nevermind. A certain burger caught my eye.

"What's on that burger?" I asked the girl at the counter.

"It's a beef patty with spaghetti on it and--"

I cut her off because I had heard enough. "I'll take it," I said hastily.

Then I woke up. Never to experience my exotic find.
Or so I thought.

I decided last night that I would make my dreams a reality and make this Spaghetti Burger. And I did. And it was fucking awesome as my roommate can attest.

However, upon sharing the news of my culinary creation, Greg asked if I had taken a picture of it. I told him "No". The truth of it was that I could barely contain myself by the time I had it assembled. Poor little guy never stood a chance. Neither did the second one. So I have made an artistic rendering of this well-loved sandwich to share with all.

(Yes, I realize now that I spelled "spaghetti" wrong. Shut up.)

Recreate with caution and beware-- spaghetti and burgers apparently tend to do battle when in a stomach at the same time.

But it's fucking worth it.

Sick in the head. Every last part of it.

2006-11-06T13:46:00.000-08:00

I'm getting a cold.
Dammit.

I don't want to get sick! I just got a bunch of free time back! I don't want to spend it laying around and being sick!

Is this karmic payback for the deadly sins I committed on Saturday?
(Just the fun ones, no worries.)

Anyhow, ever since my birthday I've been telling myself that this year, THIS YEAR, I was going to break a whole bunch of my old emotionally-destructive habits that have plagued me for the last 13 years of my life. Habits that have nothing to do with anyone other than myself in all truth and un-dealt-with issues from the past and have only been holding me back from being truly happy.

Apparently, I'm a well-established creature of habit.
And the old ones certainly die hard.
All I can do is sit around second guessing things, everything around me, for no reason whasoever. No catalyst, no trigger, no rationale I can come up with to justify anything that I've been thinking/worrying/obsessing about. Just my head, spewing out toxic waste to make me feel bad inside and out.

Why can't I trust anyone? Why can't I take anything anyone says at face value? Why am I convinced that everyone has ulterior motives and all of it revolves around the fact that I'm not worth telling the truth to?

Ugh.
I need a tissue.

Fear and loathing and fear and loathing...

2006-11-03T14:08:00.000-08:00

My play goes up tonight.

Ordinarily, this would have me in a frenzy of self-promotion and bubbly exuberance from my love of performing.

This show is different.

Hear me out:
We've been in rehearsals for this play we'll just call "Shamlet" (subtle) since August. Every role save a few have been cast at least twice (including mine). Two weeks before our intended opening date, we were informed that due to a clerical error (read: fuck-up) on the part of the Gardner Stages scheduling personnel, our little play was gonna have to wait. We've dealt with guitar music that interrupts our rehearsal regularly, never having all our actors for a full run and diva-tudes that would make Whitney Houston blush.

I want the fucking thing over.

Not to say that it hasn't been fun and a good experience. Not to say that I'm not grateful to have finally appeared in a fully-mounted Shakespeare production. Not to say that the experience hasn't taught me things and made me better and stronger and all that jazz.

But enough already.

It's opening night.
Let's knock this shit out.

If you want to see the show, here's the info.

Hamlet
Gardner Stages
1501 N. Gardner St.
Hollywood, CA 90046

Nov. 3,4,10,11,17,18 at 8pm
Nov. 12 at 7pm
Nov. 18 at 1:30pm

Tickets $15

The longest Halloween ever

2006-10-31T13:23:00.000-08:00

Alright, so by the end of today, I will have celebrated Halloween in costume 3 seperate times. I will add more of my Halloween pictures once I have at-home internet again. For now, here is my Saturday costume.

Pictured above: Myself as Mia Wallace, post-OD; Matt DeNoto as geriatric Harry Potter or something. Or Old Emo Guy.

My limited internet access

2006-10-27T14:10:00.000-07:00

At least it still extends here!

I don't have internet in my new apartment yet. I won't for another week. This is disturbing to me because while at work, I have very little time online AND what time I have is restricted. No MySpace. It's blocked. Can't use it.

Those bitches.

Anyhow, I've discovered that I can still get on here and that is a minor solace to me. But not that much.

WHOOO! Halloween/birthday weekend! Generally my favorite weekend of the year as it combining two things I like: getting presents and dressing funny. And there will be a lot of dressing funny. Oh yes. I'm currently made up to look like I have a pencil jammed through my head. Good times are just around the corner.

Only 3.5 hours left until the weekend. HELL yeah!

Oom Pah, Oom Pah, Oom Pah Pah!

2006-10-15T17:52:00.000-07:00

Does anyone else remember the animated movie "Tubby the Tuba"? It does exist, I swear to god, and I used to have a videotape of it that I watched a LOT as a child. Every once in a while, the songs from that movie sneak into my consciousness. And then I sing them. And it confuses everyone.

Anyhow...

It had just been a while since I had written anything since I had been spending so much time (brace yourself!) actually doing things and going places and having a hell of a time. Plus, in between all that "fun" time and "work" time, there's also been an inordinate amount of "scoping out apartments" time, which will need to be drawing to a close relatively soon as I need to be out of my present apartment in exactly a week. Hmph. Hopefully, everything works out well.

It'll be fine.
It has to be.
Life is good.
Life just a good.

Man, I've gone and caught optimism.
May it be incurable!
I'm so happy, I don't even care that I might be homeless in a week.
There must be someone I can blame for this.
Hmmm....

What am I doing?

2006-09-25T20:02:00.000-07:00

...on my first night free and alone for a while?
Sitting around at the computer, dicking around, having a couple drinks.
Fucking pathetic.

(Oh, on a side note, I swear to god I'm going to buy this figurine one of these days. )

I could be doing anything.
Anything in the world.
I could be using my time productively!
I'm not.
I'm blogging.

I had all these big plans for this evening. I was going to go to the bank, go to the store, make a bad-ass dinner, read a book (for once not on my lunch break at work), maybe meet up with a friend later on and go to the burlesque show she's been trying to get me out to for months.

Instead, I'm here.

First, I got lazy and didn't go to the bank. Then, my roommate said he wanted to hang out and, as I feel like I've been ignoring him lately, I decided that was a good idea. Turns out though that his job blows donkeys and keeps him late. Now, I had been holding off on making dinner until he got back so now, I've got 2 glasses of wine in me, no dinner soon in sight and a night spent sitting in front of a glowing screen. Because of course I didn't read. That would require focus that I frankly don't have.

I have to pee.

Perception: (noun) Something I don't have.

2006-09-17T17:35:00.000-07:00

Anyone who tells you that they're good at reading people is a) full of shit, b) full of themselves, c) creepy, d) a prime candidate to give me lessons, because I fucking can't read anyone.

I'm so sick of bouncing thoughts around in my head, trying to guess what someone else is thinking because I'm too chicken to actually come out and ask. All I can do is presume what someone thinks of me, a presumption that seems to change by the hour in the hyperactive annals of my underworked, overactive imagination.

I'm retarded.

A good week.

2006-09-09T02:02:00.000-07:00

Whaaat? It was!

OK, maybe there might have been an inordinate amount of bitching about work and my neck and money and such things. And fellow employees who don't show up and printers trying to shake themselves to pieces. And apartment searches and rampant emotions and the sun.

But aside from those things, good week.

I mean, there was Labor Day which meant no labor. Sweet. I got a parking pass for the Galleria, so anyone who wants to go can go hang out at the Galleria with me for over 2 hours and not have to worry about whether validation will cover it. Then again, finding reasons to spend that long there may be a bigger problem. Hmm... I made a bad ass quesadilla! That was neat. Super proud of that. Got a friend hooked on Brownie Batter ice cream, which makes me giggle. Saw a couple NoHo shows (hooray for local artists!). Made some headway on my Ophelia stuff and confronted my fear of singing in front of people yet again (I hate doing that). And plus, there was fun time spent hanging about and quoting with an individual whom I fancy. Well done there. I like, is niiice.

Now comes tomorrow: day of getting stuff done!
Finding apartments!
Going to rehearsals!
Taking publicity shots!
And... trivia games? OK, that'll be fun.
I hope.

... That was only 2 fucking days???

2006-09-04T00:39:00.000-07:00

ARE YOU KIDDING ME????

That was the longest 2 goddamn days that I've had in a long while!
In all honesty, if I had to guess, I would say it had to be at least 4. Which is odd, since I slept until mid-afternoon yesterday.

Where is my time going?
However, I had a bad-ass rehearsal today and love my Hamlet cast more today than yesterday. It's going to be fantastically fun and eventually... *sigh* I'll have to start harrassing people about me new show. OK, fine, I already have started this evening.

New revelation: I don't have to be wasted to act like an 8 year old!
(Well, I was mildly intoxicated but despite my better efforts, not drunk.)
I had a fantastic evening chasing my friends (yes, real live friends) around with water-balloons and squirt-guns and, in all honesty, I had a fucking blast. I don't remember the last time I had a serious water fight, but it was probably somewhere around 4th grade. Or senior year of high school. Or college if you count the snow fight... you know, never mind!
_____________________________________________

Ugh.
Never get interested in a person with a blog.
I reiterate.
It will only give you too much information and fill you with self-doubt.
Fuck.

Serenity now!

2006-08-29T19:02:00.000-07:00

I think I've got it.
Or figured it out.
My problem that is.
And I'm working on it.
And speaking in sentence fragments apparently! That's gotta stop. But if I have got things as together as I think I might have them, then I might be on the road to possible happiness. Sounds like a sure thing to me!

Now if only I could convince myself that I'm going to make a halfway-decent Ophelia, I'd really have my shit together. At least I'm coming off a tasty dinner. Oh, my lovely eggy-veggie dish! Hooray for my cooking skills! Bite me, Rachael Ray! (You cracked-out, giggling, acronym-using, artery-clogging wench of a chef!)

I'm off to be tragic.
Eggs, don't fail me now!

Can I call in "annoyed" to work?

2006-08-28T18:19:00.000-07:00

... well, why not?!

You know, I'm thinking of telling people, "If you really want your heart broken good, move to LA." I mean really, we're the reconstructive surgery capital of the world! At least we'll be able to find you a new one.
(And some snazzy knockers to go over it!)
Actually, LA's probably not the reconstructive surgery capital of the world. It's probably somewhere in Sweden or something, but I doubt Sweden is nearly as soul-crushing and doesn't make nearly as good of a metaphor.
(Is that really a metaphor? I don't think it is. Way to mix up your lit terms, Dana.)

I know that's not the spirit I should be embracing right now but, feh. Since when was I any good at optimism? I wish I could be. Not in that blind, giddy, naive and, you know, obnoxious way. A way in which I could be confident in myself and not put myself down at every misstep, faulting myself for being "so typically Dana" that I ruin everything I come across. A way in which I didn't second-guess every thought streaking through my head, wondering if what I want is really what I need or whatever. It's no fun. Frankly, it's exhausting. I'm sick of it. I need to pull my shit together! Yeah! Go team Dana!

Ah, shit. Optimism is exhausting too.
___________________________________________

(This line means I hate posting multiple times in the same day.)

PS: Never fall for a person with a blog. It'll turn you into a stalker.
___________________________________________

Where is the line between doing something for someone else's good and doing something because you're scared to do something for yourself?
___________________________________________

I was going to write something else and my music pushed it out of my head.
Stupid music.

What am I, twelve?

2006-08-28T00:39:00.000-07:00

I need to grow the fuck up.
I need to stop obsessing over nothing.
I need to stop being my own worst enemy.
I need to accept myself.
I need to respect my feelings and not immediately dismiss them as invalid.

Note to self: grow a spine