Still here. Still tired. Still broke.*

I used to enjoy talking to Rick. I had to lean in really close to hear what he said because he spoke so very quietly. He didn't smell all that great, which made leaning in less desirable, but boy, he sure knew a lot about a lot. Every now and then he'd get on a tangent about George Bush, and the CIA, and honestly, I did not know what to do with that. Nonetheless, I felt there was something to it. I think his dad was in the Navy and maybe he was, too. I don't know.

Rick was sick and Rick was homeless. He had a family somewhere. I knew this because his mom came once to try and bring him home. But he found his home. It was at my church, where he greeted me each time I came. One time I greeted him and he asked me who I was. It offended me. Can you believe that? I was offended that after so many years of talking with him, he didn't remember me. This happened one time and it offended me so much, I never sat and spent time talking to him again. Oh, I greeted him, and held the door open, but suddenly, I was blocked.

I usually feel like I'm a pretty good person. Not perfect. Not even great, but good. I may even take pride in it. That's kind of paradoxical, isn't it? Taking pride in my goodness. Right now I just feel like a jerk. A mean, inconsiderate, and cruel jerk.

He had a brain tumor and other assorted tumors, in addition to schizophrenia. Now perhaps I never saw his medical records, but I knew he struggled with his health and mental well-being. I know this. What snapped that made me cut him off? And the biggest irony, as I mentioned before, I only saw him at my church.

The church truly was his home. He was very careful to protect it. He would cover his hand so no one could see the code that lets you in the back door. He would patrol the property and kick out other people who tried to nestle in. He'd join us for coffee and cake on Sundays, and very respectfully excuse himself to go out and have a smoke. He and I used to sit on the sofa, drinking coffee and talking sports.

He used to walk around DC a lot. He made friends with a lot of people. He saved the best things the church gave to him to give to others who needed it more than he did. He left what had known and chose to follow his own path and I think that he lived life the way he wanted to, given his circumstances.

Rick died last week. He was in his late 50s. His family took him home to NC where his family, including his two children could memorialize him. They lost him a long time ago, but now they could finally rest, knowing he was not hurting anymore.

His death made me suddenly shine a huge spotlight on how I treat people. It's terrifying. I don't want to be so self-indulgent that I will remove you if you don't make me feel like I'm a good person. It was not his fault that he didn't recognize me. Who knows what was going on that day for him? Just like that guy who cuts me off and follows it up with the middle finger, I don't know his situation.

Today I was in Petsmart with Harms and I asked a lady about her service dog, and she got really upset. It made me feel awful. I didn't mean to offend, and don't know why she reacted that way. But that's the key here, really. I don't know what her circumstances are so I just smiled, told her to have a nice day, and hastily got out of her way.

I'm glad Rick won't suffer any more. I am thankful to him for reminding me that time is fleeting and that each moment is precious (sorry for the cliches). But most of all, that we can't gauge how people are going to react to us, so we just need to do our best to be as good and as happy as we can be, and hope that translates to those around us.

Rick, I am truly sorry for being such an arrogant jackass. I hope heaven is all it's cracked up to be. I sure hope I get to go and be greeted by you there.



* This was Rick's response anytime you'd ask how he was.

Ear worm

Man, so Carly Rae Jepson really nailed the ear worm thing. This song has captured everyone! So here are a couple of other versions. The Cookie Monster one at least makes sense (To me). Also, I want a cookie. I saw a peanut butter cookie at Panera the other day that looked holy!



The second video is of Carly and Jimmy Fallon. (Why are there two late night Jimmys? It's confusing). Oh, and The Roots. If you didn't like the song before, this version will make you fall in love with it.



Then finally, the one that started it all for me when Marci showed it to me a long time ago. I had never heard the song at this point. Oh, to go back to those innocent days... Also, can someone get the Harvard Baseball team a better choreographer? Also, yes, that boy was asleep for the whole ride.



I am ready for a new catchy song. Bring it!

Call me, maybe?

This song, by Carly Rae Jepson, is taking over everyone's brain. I even find myself grooving out to it once in a while. It's catchy. But what does it mean? I like lyrics and song meanings and well, I have to admit that this song befuddles me. So, taking the lyrics from metrolyrics.com, let's analyze, shall we? I took the liberty of removing the repetitive stanzas/chorus.

I threw a wish in the well,Don't ask me, I'll never tellI looked to you as it fell,And now you're in my way
Okay, so what I got from this stanza was that she doesn't like the person she was with and made a wish for something new, to replace that person.
I'd trade my soul for a wish,Pennies and dimes for a kissI wasn't looking for this,But now you're in my way
Here she demonstrates that she has no belief in the afterlife, and that kisses are not worth much to her. But she made a wish and now this person is standing in the way of her tossing her soul away.
Your stare was holdin',Ripped jeans, skin was showin'Hot night, wind was blowin'Where you think you're going, baby?


Now this is where I get confused. This poor thing, in old clothing, was staring at her. I am assuming that it's the same guy who is in her way? And now he is leaving because she probably got mad and was all "Dude, you're in my way". And now she is wondering where he's going?


Hey, I just met you,And this is crazy,But here's my number,So call me, maybe?
Okay, so now we realize that she's just met this in the way guy, right? And I am assuming that when she says "this is crazy" she means "I am crazy".

It's hard to look right,At you baby,But here's my number,So call me, maybe?
Why is it hard to look right at him?Is he blindingly white? Is he sparkling like a vampire? Is he so hideous one needs to close one eye to appraise him? 
And all the other boys,Try to chase me,But here's my number,So call me, maybe?
If all these other boys are chasing her, why does she need to make wishes at a wishing well? And if they are all chasing her, wouldn't this guy be interested, too? Obviously she is selling herself as a pretty hot commodity. 
You took your time with the call,I took no time with the fallYou gave me nothing at all,But still, you're in my way

Okay, so this is where I get most confused. So he called, but not for a long time. Meaning that he had some other chick on the line, but when that fell through he called our little songstress. Then I wonder if Carly meant foll for follow-up, not fall? But whatever, so she was smitten? But he was all, whatevs!! What does she mean when she says "But still, you're in my way"? Is she trying to move on from this crush she developed on some guy standing near her while she made a wish at a fountain who also is the only guy in the world who isn't chasing her?

I beg, and borrow and stealHave foresight and it's realI didn't know I would feel it,But it's in my way
What is she talking about here? Is she going to make more wishes? Spend her fortune on 10 cent kisses? Foresight? Towards what? Does she know what that word means? Um, it's obviously not real. He took his time. He's in her way. What is she feeling? Oh good Lord. She wants the badboy and thinks she can make him a good guy. But his bad behavior is getting in the way, right?

This song is kind of stupid. After analyzing it, it seems to perpetuate that stupid female behavior of trying to get some guy's attention who wants nothing to do with that girl. If he's in your way, find a new path. Sheesh. 

On a lighter note, please appreciate this Star Wars version of the song:

I miss writing on here. There's something to be said about working in a boring job, shackled to the clock. There always seemed to be something that was bugging me. Now I spend most of my time in front of the computer and the last thing I seem to want to do is write. (And I want to be a writer). What gives?!?
I'm thinking about my next job. I'm hoping that I am so engaged that I don't have time to write here. I am always agog at people who work 12 hours a day. How is it possible they don't get their crap done in the 9-5 hours? Sheesh, I could get all my crap done in a ten minute increment early in the morning. Then my workday became an exercise in patience as I sat at my blocked-from-every-interesting-website work computer and tried not to commit suicide via papercuts. I was actually told I needed to do a better job of looking busy. Er? "Yeah." I was told. "Just keep a pile of folders on your desk and look like they are important". Um. Can't I just go do something else? The killer is the boss that hasn't spoken to you all day, even though you stuck your head into his office 1000 times that day, who comes in and asks you to create, print and bind 20 copies of a 100 page booklet for a meeting he has tomorrow. AT 4:55PM!!! Whaaa?!? At this point I have succumbed to a massive case of ennui and am no longer capable of doing anything, much less staying late for crap I could have been doing all day! Rawr! When I left my last job, I made a promise to myself to never be an assistant again. I suck at it. I don't want to be held responsible for you being somewhere without an umbrella because it rained even though the weather report promised sunny sunshine.

Ack, where is this entry going?

I remember feeling really useless at my last job. Also the office politics brutalized me. My HR person, who for some reason was the person I had to report to (I did not work in HR), would get mad at me and  threaten to write me up because I had the audacity to not seek her out every morning to say good morning and ask how she was doing. Are all companies like this?

I've been out of the corporate world for four years now. I miss the money. I even miss a lot of the people. I do not miss the systems, or the politics. I really enjoy the fact that in film, at least in what I have been involved in, is a measure of the work, not of time. Actually, I am often the person on set yelling at everyone that we are RUNNING OUT OF TIME!

Sidebar: Queen Latifah is on Jimmy Kimmel. I wish I were half as cool as she is. And I wish I were a tenth as talented as Jimmy.

I'm meeting my old bosses and coworkers for drinks next Wednesday. I'm kind of excited. The work may have been lame and some of the situations were ree-diculous, but generally speaking, I really loved my fellow employees. I'm really proud that I have maintained a good relationship with so many of them. Even my evil old boss I don't have too much vitriol for. However, the boss that I loved, who totally threw me under the bus, I have a special place in my venom sack for him. I wonder if he will come. I'm not good at being mean, but I really wouldn't mind practicing on him. I know.

So, to get you up to date, which I know you are dying to get up to... I will finish my thesis (fingers crossed) this week. Then rewrite until beginning of August when I turn it in. Then I celebrate birfday madness with Marci. Then I am off to the Germany and the Sweden for a while. Afterwards I am gonna need a job, or a sugar daddy. Whichever pays more and requires less :)

This has to be love.

I think we should get married. I know this may seem out of the blue, but I find myself thinking about you all of the time. You just make things better. I like that you have a bit of a bite, but you're also a little sweet. I noticed that you are fancy, but I think that will just force me to work a little harder, you know?

I am concerned about the fact that I don't know where you come from. You said something about PA, but I am pretty sure you are not ethnically American. It's cool. Neither am I. We can help each other to expand our horizons.

You are quite a bit older than me, but I dunno. I have always related well to the war-child generation. But I have to admit 1930 is a reach, even for my state of mind. Do you think we can do it? I don't want people to think ill of me. Especially your relatives that are not quite as mild as you. They could really do some damage, I'm sure.

One last thing, before you slip your rings on me... What's the connection to bananas? I'm curious because my bestie is allergic. It's a looks thing, right?

Hey, if forever is too long for you, I understand. Though with your being pickled and my having bought a  large jar, I assume you and I will be together for a solid run. Let's make it a good one. I need dates outside of just sandwiches and nachos.

(G)Rumble

I don't feel good. I headed home from school today in a crummy mood, of which I lay the sole blame on the fact that the class I was supposed to teach at AU was canceled today. But I listened to XM Radio's comedy channels and giggled my way through the comic stylings of Caroline Rhea and Russell Peters. Then I turned it off and the bad mood was back. Got home, and flailed my angry little self onto the sofa and took a nap. Now I feel pukey and sad. My tummy is rumbley*. Bill is sitting at my side like a good little sentry, which makes me nervous because you hear about the cats that are like little harbingers of death... Does he know something I don't? 


I bought milk at Safeway the other day and the carton top was open a little. Not so much that the milk was exposed in any way, rather that someone grabbed it and it came undone a bit. I bought it anyway. I am fearless that way. I even joked with the cashier that if she hears about my untimely death, she can know to alert the proper authorities.

I had some of the milk with my delicious cereal yesterday. Then I felt funny last night, but it passed. Now, as I sit feeling sorry for myself on my big yellow couch (that happens to coordinate delightfully with my orange cat), I'm blaming the milk. Because I can't think of anything else. I'm scared of the milk.

I don't feel good. Make Bill stop staring at me. 



*I know it's not a word, but I like the way it sounds and it goes with my title.
RUMBLEY: candidate for Merriam-Webster 2013!!!

TSA: Totally Stupid Asshats

Dear TSA,

What is up? I am going to give you a D. (That's right, since I am officially an adjunct professor at the American University, I can grade you. I am allowed).

So, I was just perusing headlines, as I am apt to do when more pressing things are to be avoided, and I noticed two recent TSA articles. Not good ones, either. One, you pat down a 4 year old girl, after she'd already successfully passed through your inspection. Yes, she ran and hugged her not-yet-passed-through-security grandma, but trying to take the tyke into a private room without her parents? Not okay. Not cool to yell at a wee one that you will shut down the whole airport if she doesn't acquiesce. Oh, sorry. That means comply. Oh, sorry. That means agree to do as you wish. Are you getting mad? Because I am talking down to you? Well, you don't act like adults.

You act like drug traffickers. The TSA says they don't know of other cases like this recent one in LA, but you know they are happening. But I don't want to be a speculator, so I decided to type "TSA" into http://news.google.com/. I'm just going to post a couple of headlines.


7-Year-Old With Cerebral Palsy Gets Rigorous TSA Pat-Down; Family Misses Flight Over Incident

TSA collects $409,000 in change lost during security screenings

TSA delays background checks for new hires

Okay, wait. They don't know how to deal with a little girl with metal braces. Fine. They don't know how to deal with anyone. I'm sure you guys have heard the horror stories involving the TSA and the elderly, what with their bomb concealing Depends, and colostomy bags. But they have collected $409K??? And they can't afford to do background checks? And, that's not even what REALLY gets my goat. TSA agents can go to second base (First base? I'm still not clear on bases here... My bases are wayyy more innocent than the bases of my friends) on a little kid, but the TSA is not concerned about where those TSA agent's hands had previously been? What the what?

I generally choose to fly out of Washington National (or to the people who are visiting: Reagan National), and we have a pretty solid set of TSA agents. At least insofar as what I have experienced. (Just wanted to not throw my peeps under the bus. You guys are cool in my book. But ONLY DCA staff!)

I gave you a D because I think you can bring your grade up. In fact I demand it. We all demand it.

Even Kip Hawley, the guy who used to run TSA (2005-2009) admits it is broken. He concedes that the terrorists are adaptive. So TSA needs to be adaptive, too. But they're not. They are blindly following a list of requirements that don't do much to protect the American people when they fly. There is no logic. No common sense. And that's the scariest part for me. We are being regulated by a group of people with too much power and no common sense.

Come on America! We can do better than this!




Oh, and since you read all the way down to the bottom here, I shall leave you with this. Fat cat gets TSA pat-down.

Seriously, TSA? Seriously?

My non-used commencement speech.

So I am graduating from Grad school in May. I got an email from school a while back asking me to write a commencement speech for them to consider. I did. I worked hard and made people edit it for me. I sent it in, and waited to hear back. They chose not to choose me. Boo hoo. But since I like my speech, I shall place it here for your enjoyment!

This is for the school of Communication at American University. I'm getting my MFA in film.

I am extremely honored to have been asked to be a commencement speaker. Wow, I thought. A captive audience to listen to me wax poetic on what I have learned in the three years I have spent at American University, working towards the MFA in Film and Electronic Media that I will (hopefully) receive today!

In order to not abuse my power, I’ve decided to give you the top ten things I have learned here at AU. Oh, I can hear you whispering to each other. Top ten? That’s so clichéd. I KNOW! It’s okay, though. Remember that I work in film and clichés bring home the bacon. Anyone who has seen the Twilight series can attest to this. However, after suffering through multiple speeches where the speaker repeatedly claims to be finishing up, only to continue for another 45 minutes, I’ve decided it would be best to allow you to count along with me.

1.    My first lesson learned was to get to the point! I used to think the more time I had your ear; the more likely you were to help me. How wrong I was. Then I learned the magic of the elevator pitch, which forces me to impress you in the time it takes to get to the next floor. Fact is a minute is generally all someone is willing to give, so I try to make it impactful!

2.   Capturing someone’s interest is not enough! I still have to request their help. The second lesson is Don’t be afraid to ask! The worst that can happen is that someone might say no. I’ve never heard of someone getting poked in the eye because they were brazen enough to request help. Simply by asking, I got an extremely talented and professional cinematographer to work on my student film with me, for free; I got to meet and take photos with my all-time idol Julie Andrews; and I’ve worked on multiple television and movie sets. Why? That’s right. Just because I asked.

3.   Now if you are asking yourself, how do we know whom to ask? I’ve found it’s vital to (lesson 3) never stop making friends. To quote our very own professor Chris Palmer, Network, Network, Network! Go to every event. Meet every person. Chat with the cop in line behind you at Popeye’s. Take business cards and go home and shoot off a quick email to say how glorious it was to meet them. Then later, when you are writing a movie about a DEA agent, that guy getting the extra crispy chicken meal may have a great connection to a person you can interview.

4.   In the time that I have been working in film, I have found that the people who work a lot are the ones who show up ready to go, and are fun to work with. Through them I learned lesson 4. Smile! Be nice! Work hard! Always do your best to “be on,” because people love to work with people who make things go smoothly and are fun to be around. You may be the most talented person alive, but if you are unpleasant or hard to work with - opportunities will quickly fade.

5.    While having fun and being nice, I still have to remember lesson 5: Take myself seriously. Perhaps more accurately: Take my career seriously. Here’s an example of when I did not heed this: I was in LA last September, and had the opportunity to hobnob with the cast of NBC’s Community. When actor/writer Joel McHale asked me what I did, I stuttered, and said I want to be a writer? He took a physical step back and retorted, well do ya? Who knows what chance encounters like the one with Joel McHale could have lead to if I could have made him laugh and impressed him with my self-confidence? I’m going to meet a ton of people who intimidate me, heck everyone intimidates me, but I have to just fake till I make it! Because honestly, if I don’t believe in myself, why should anyone else?

6.   Though I can’t get too cocky! Lesson 6 is to admit when I don’t know something, but then do what it takes to figure it out. I was assisting Professor Larry Engel on set for the Discovery channel show Curiosity. He kept sending me off to get things with crazy names, like stinger. What the heck is a stinger? I asked myself as I stared into the abyss of nameless film equipment. I grabbed a bag in the hopes that the stinger was inside. After presenting a multitude of devices, all of which were not the elusive stinger, I had to admit that I just couldn’t figure out what it could be, and I asked. Turns out it’s an extension cord. However, because I admitted that I was naïve to the terminology, and willing to work double time to make up for it, I got the opportunity to work with Professor Engel on many other incredible projects.

7.   Speaking of Larry Engel’s projects, he always seems to be working on the widest variety of subjects. Ask any of the professors at AU and you’ll find that they are curious about a multitude of topics. This taught me lesson 7: to keep learning! I read voraciously. I watch every show, every movie, and every play I can squeeze into my schedule… and can afford, because let’s keep it real. The point is that I have no idea where my next inspiration will come from. So, I try to say yes to everything!

8.   Finally, to finish up my list, we arrive at lesson 8. Wait, did I just say 8? Didn’t I say earlier that this was a list of 10 things? That’s the final lesson, my friends. I’ve learned to budget my time wisely. Things inevitably take much more time than you expect. There’s nothing worse than having to work longer hours than you anticipated. So if you think it will take 8 hours, budget 10. Then if you finish in 8 hours, or heck, even 9 1/2, everyone will think you are the most organized, fantastic person, whom they’ll be clamoring to work with again and again.

I am so grateful for all of the lessons I have learned here at American University and for the power that has been instilled in me to be the very best at what I do. Congratulations to the class of 2012. There is such an immense pool of talent sitting in this audience and I cannot wait to see the successes that each of you will inevitably achieve. Maybe one day you’ll let me work with you? Because, after all, I AM A WRITER!

I had a couple of minutes to chat...

Since it seems all of my friends are back to blogging, I think I may revisit this blog as well. The fact is that I have so much writing to do for my final semester of my MFA, I need more legit procrastination tools than the freakin' television set. (Though I can justify watching TV in the sense that I am teaching a class on the history and culture of American Television this summer, and I am aiming to become a wildly successful television writer). 

I have not written since June AND I am afraid that I may be making you promises that I can't back up, i.e. writing once a month or so. However, the busier I am, the more I can get done. Which speaking of being busy, I gots to go! I am meeting a prof/friend for coffee (hoping he can guide me to a better way to write my commencement speech so that I get picked to be a commencement speaker), I have an eye appointment because I want my eyeballs to stay healthy so I can continue to ogle gorgeous people and watch TV, AND I have a date with the glorious and wonderful Clussy for a vigorous pottery painting session and Popeye's eating frenzy. In between, I will be attempting to better flesh out my outlines for the spec I am writing on ABC's Suburgatory and my own feature film. Oh, I also need to write my internship application letters for the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences. Plus, Sunday is the Oscars! Which means Oscar party!! Which means cleaning and organizing and shopping.

Can someone get me Hermione's time turner necklace, please?

Ecuador taught me ten things.

I went to Ecuador for three weeks earlier this summer. I went as a teaching assistant for a class that covers foreign policy, natural science, and communications. The students were there to make films about a specific topic like recycling, or shark finning. I was there to eat things, and hang out on the gorgeous water wearing too many clothes and a ton of sunscreen. (Yeah, I know how to live it up!)


Here are ten things I learned about myself in Ecuador.

1. I'm wicked attached to my mom.  She's cool. What can I say?
2. I could actually live with roommates. No seriously. I could. When we got to Quito, I had to share a hostel room with 5 others. It was fun. I had a raging headache on day 1, so I went back to the room, hid under the blankets and went to sleep. Life went on around me and it was fine. I liked having people to talk to and do stuff with. It totally did not interfere with my independence. When I wanted to go wander on my own, I did. But how awesome it was to have someone to explore with. And it was really gogogogo, the whole time we were there. The only time having a roommate was questionable was in Santa Cruz, Galapagos, where I spent 12 hours with Montezuma's revenge. It didn't suck as bad for me as it was nice to have someone that checked to make sure I was okay. But my poor roommate Natalie was forced to cover her ears and look green when she heard me puking in the bathroom. Poor girl. 
3. My Spanish sucks, but I have a good accent. This is troublesome. This is troublesome because when I say the few words I can say, apparently I say them well enough to invite a cascade of fast and multi-syllabic words that I cannot begin to comprehend. Then I stand there looking blankly while I get pickpocketed. (Kidding.. Sorta... Quito is dangerous. But no one got me.) However, I did learned that when you want to know the cost of something, you should not ask "cuanto queso?".
4. Spiders are cool. There were spiders EVERYWHERE. For serious! We saw scorpion spiders and tarantulas, jumping spiders and hunting spiders, social spiders, wolf spiders, and banana spiders. They were huge and small and hairy and smooth. In Jatun Sacha, there was an audience of spiders when you'd brush your teeth or go potty. So now, the wimpy spiders in my house are adorable.  
5. Deet and sunscreen work. I wore deet every day in the rain forest and got only one bug bite. Let me show you someone else's legs who did not use deet. I wore sunscreen every day and only got burned once on the tops of my knees because I felt it was vital for me to sit on top of the boat for hours in the direct sunlight and never reapply sunscreen. Because I am smart like that. Because it's fine! We're only on the equator. Though I have to admit that I wore so much sunscreen my skin could not absorb any more and it sat as a over-protective white layer on top of my skin. I came back to the States as white as ever, though my hands were tannish and just looked dirty. That's right! I'm starting a new trend. Glove-free gloves.
6. I can actually get up early in the morning and go to bed early and be okay with it. It's true. We always had someplace to go and things to do. It was kind of awesome. I want that all the time.
7. This goes hand in hand with #5. I don't need the TV. WHAT? I KNOW! It's just crazy talk. Didn't miss it at all. I would much rather be barreling down a volcano on a bicycle than on a couch watching ANTM. Canoeing across a river in the Amazon is far superior to watching a show about an office. Even risking the rise of vomit to eat fresh fruit from a market in Otavalo is substantially more exciting than seeing Oprah leave. So, yeah. Get me out of my house. 
8. I can get used to anything, but it doesn't mean I will love it. Like throwing toilet paper into a bin next to the toilet. Or applying sunscreen/deet all the time. Or travelling in a car/bus/canoe/plane to get places. There comes a point when you just want to BE THERE ALREADY! But the cold showers, and the blind leap into water became second nature really quickly. 
9. I'm not a water bug. I'd like to be. But it is not my first instinct to jump into the water. I'm not a strong swimmer and so I am a little scared of the water. But snorkeling was amazing, and I could swim forever with my head under water. I'm not really scared of anything in the water, as long as I can see it. Well, except for jellyfish and this crazy scary worm that was in the ocean near Kicker Rock in San Cristobal that was three feet long, and about a foot in diameter. He was translucent and had a spiky head. I dunno what that was, but grody to the max. I leapt 40 feet out of the water to steer clear of him. (Also, I'm magic). 
10. You can't have fear! While we were riding bikes down Cotapaxi in the snow, I learned that if you want to fly, you have to let go of your fear. Big rocks and ditches would be coming, and I had to learn to just go. If you veer or falter at all, you are going to fall and get hurt. What a life lesson this is. 

It was an amazing trip, and just makes me want to see more of the world. I also lost 5 pounds while there and that is pretty cool. 

Dude, I'm a chick!

I found a website that does a gender analysis on blogs. So I plugged in the Television Bug site, and it correctly predicted that it is written by a female. Which, yay, is me!

Then I entered in this blog...

It REALLY believes that Bug E. Bugger is a guy. Why? Do I write like a dude? Do I look like a dude? No. Ha. That's just silly (right?).

Twitter

I'm addicted. What happened? I was so not into it. I signed up and surveyed and announced that NO, this is NOT for me. A year goes by. I check in again. Nope. Still stoopid.

I go see Kathy Griffin at DAR Constitution Hall with Angel and am entertained by her calling the messaging on this social networking device "twatting". But I'm still not in.

My friends are on it. Clussy was making comments and having conversations with our friends that I was missing and Marci can't access FB at work, so Twitter is her line to the outside world. Well, we were missing each other. What to do? So, about a year ago, I started checking. I hate missing out on crap. Then I realized I could stalk my favorite celebrities and pretend that they are my pals. THEN I realized the glories of the hashtag subtext. It's like getting to whisper like Brick on "The Middle".

Suddenly I am checking Twitter compulsively. I am writing to people I have never met like we are besties and I am sharing all the very important details of my very important life with the people who follow me so that they can pretend that we are pals (Okay, so most of them are pals. Details...).

Does this make me a modern woman? Yes, lets say that. Yep.

The Math Lab

I have a story idea:

Jon is addicted to math. He has been holed up in a little cabin he built for himself in his parents’ backyard, working on a proof that is seemingly unsolvable. The walls are covered in math problems. He can do nothing but math. His friends and family stage an intervention, taking his calculators away, but he uses an abacus. He goes to elementary schools to tutor kids, only to fill out their entire math workbooks. To help him kick his math habit, his friends introduce him to literature. This backfires as he becomes a heroine addict.

Random thoughts

1. After naming her "Carnie", did they expect Carnie Wilson to be anything but fat?

2. Sixlets are basically just candy coated chocolate lard balls. But they are delicious.

3. If I am chewing Sangria flavored gum while driving, can I get in trouble?

4. Sidewalks in California are a waste of money since it is illegal to walk there.

5. What would happen if I stole something from the Alcatraz souvenir shop?

6. Wine coolers look and taste the same coming up as they did going down. So, if you are trying to save some money, you could just rebottle it and put it in the fridge for later.

Drunk mouth?

So Orbitz is making all of these alcohol gum flavors, like mohito and pina colada. I see what you are doing! But you're getting a whole bunch of us chewing gum.

Well played. 

America, heal thyself

I think it is sad that the world has gotten so fed up with our inability to punish our starlets for their illegal misdeeds that Japan has taken it upon itself to bring a firm hand to Paris Hilton.

That's like my kid breaking every single rule and never getting in trouble with me for it, but then being banned from the babysitter.

I am embarrassed to be American on days like this. (Also when I watch Maury Povich)

5 things I need to do now or soonly.

1. Clean my house. It actually kind of stinks in here. I am reminded of my childhood when I had to walk through my room not picking up my feet because I would step on things. I think my place is just simply too small for all of my crap.

1A. On that note, I should watch Hoarders, so my friend says. She watched and then tossed half of her belongings.

1B. Or I could watch the BBC cleaning show with Aggie and the other lady who go to the most scandalously dirty houses in Britain and show the people that the germs they are festering will kill them, or render them stoopid. (Oh, in some cases it's too late).

2. Learn about the legal system. I am writing a screenplay that has am Asst. US Attorney as the main character and I know nothing! (God bless my legal advisor Law-rah, the legal books at the library, and transcripts online. Amen).

3. Get ready for school. Instead I am typing to you, while sitting with wet hair. (Hey, I managed to shower. Wee!) I still have to get to the library, pick up a film for one class, get that film to the projectionist, print out copies of my script, email said script to professor... Ack!

4. Drink some coffee. In fact, I think I will do that now. Yum. BRB.

4A. I even got myself some breakfast which I put into the bowl I so lovingly painted for myself on an exquisite girlie day with Clussy. Check it:

Yeah, I painted a bug. Clever, no?

5. Win the lottery. (And yeah, I actually do play). I am tired of bartending, albeit once a week. And I am not making money in filmmaking yet. Hopefully someday, but not yet. And tuition is PRICEY. AND I have two years to go. 

So it begins... I hope

What up? Guess what? I am officially a TV show creator. I am taking a class on Television Studio Production and we had to pitch 2 minute TV show ideas to NBC. I decided to pitch a show called DC Free! which shows a couple of events that you can do for free in DC. (I guess the title kind of already clarifies that). Well, they liked my pitch and so along with three other groups, we shot my pilot. It was great. We went to the Penn Quarter in DC and got footage for the Arts on Foot festival, then we went to Meridian Hill Park to capture the drum circle that happens there weekly.

We showed our pilot to the class and they loved it. NBC loved it. Now the whole class is producing the show. MY show. Yay.

It's the posh posh travelling life, the travelling life for me.

I am on my way home from New York City. Second weekend in a row. Why, you ask? Because I was responsible for getting the hotel room for the girl's weekend in NY. Which I did...for the wrong weekend. So rather than tossing $270 to the wind, I tossed a hundred more and came back to the city.

It is convenient to get to NYC from DC these days. There are a multitude of busses that range from awesomely fancy to downright scary. Let me tell you about the scary. That was the bus line I took yesterday. While I am at it, I will tell you why I spent a hundred+ bucks to travel to and fro.

I bought my ticket to leave from Dupont circle at 9:15am yesterday. I think I was going to take the Washington Deluxe Bus. For some bizarre reason, I decided to drive and then leave the car in a lot overnight. I figured it could not be more expensive than taking a cab. Boy, was I wrong. I couldn't find parking! I drove and drove and found only one open lot which was closed on both Sunday and Monday. So I commenced to looking for valet parking at a hotel. I mean, c'mon! It's Dupont. There has to be something. Nothing. Frack. So time is ticking away and I am freaking out. I parked at my church (which is way uncool as we have something like six spaces). I ran, hoping a cab would come by. One did and just waved at me, his backseat filled with lucky tourists. I gave up. Never would have made it. Stopped into the lamest Starbucks in the world, (Marci knows which one I am talking about) and got myself a pity latte. It only took them half an hour to take my order, make my drink, let me pay, and give me my drink.

I went home, booked a ticket for the noon Chinatown bus. I then had some breakfast and called a cab when it was time. Actually I called a cab before it was time and they dispatched it right away forcing me to call and cancel the cab which then got me lectured by the dispatcher. I still love RedTop, though. So, now I have paid $21 for the missed bus, $30 for the Chinatown bus, and $20 for the cab.

My driver is awesome. His name is Rafiq and he is from Afghanistan. He also owns a framing store which may be the location I finally get my super cute drawing of a bunch of birds that I got in Oregon framed. He is going to Afghanistan to help out. I thought he was cool.

I get to the bus locale and see a bus. So, even though it is 11:15 am, I figure I will see if I can get on an earlier bus. There is a guy who is yelling because he has been there for three hours and has just watched all of the full busses leave without him. The guy yells at him to get out of line. I am nervous because I too bought my ticket on line. But the guy stamps my receipt and we both sign it. That bus I saw is the 10 am bus that has not left yet. Yikes. Everyone is stressed out. I go and get in line. The guy who had been told to get out of line is now in line in front of me. Some Asian guy walks by and tells us to get on the bus. So the guy tries and is yelled at so hard by the Asian girl on the bus. I am scared to say anything. But I get on without any drama directed at me. Dunno what happens to that guy, but now I am sitting with all these people who are so grateful to be on this expensive and decrepit bus. I get on my iPhone to rebook my trip for Sunday because I had booked my return on the Chinatown bus which I have no plans to ever be found on again. So original home ticket $30 and new ticket on DC2NY bus $25. Gah!

Until we get to Philly, I am sitting next to a young Asian girl who is sound asleep before we leave. Her head rolls as if on a swivel and I am afraid it might break off. We get to Philly and she gets out and I am forced to sit next to this young black girl who is chatting with her friend across the aisle and she keeps elbowing me. Grr. Then the bus randomly stops when the driver sees three Asian people standing on a corner (not a usual stop, I'm sure) and gets them. Weird. This happened somewhere on our way out of Philly, back to the NJ turnpike. Then I am dumped out in Chinatown. Crap. I hail a cab and $20 later I am at my hotel.

There are two St. Giles next to one another on 39th. I tried to check into the wrong one. Sheesh. I move over to the right one. The hotel room I booked had two beds, which I told them I didn't need. They upgraded me to an awesome king suite. Rock on! Finally something goes right. So I put some makeup on and head to the Gerschwin Theatre with Defying Gravity playing on repeat in my head. Alas, they are sold out. I wander about, but no one else has tickets for me either, so I return. I wait in the extra tickets line. I wait...and wait. Nope. Nothing for me. But the ticket guy gave me the box office number and his name, so I can call and get tickets.

Sauntering around outside, I must look desperate because a fortune teller seeks me out. I must BE desperate because I actually pay her to tell me my fortune. Which basically turns out to be that I am creative (Yay) and lonely. I don't sleep well and she sees numbers. Sigh. I blame this turn of events on my old company that gave me tickets to see Marvin Hamlisch who introduced me to Kristin Chenoweth at a NSO Concert at the Kennedy Center, who then turned out to be awesome and star in Wicked! which I could not see.

I went to a shoe store to buy pity shoes. As I stood in line to buy them, this Russian girl kept hitting me with the body bag she was carrying. Seriously, the thing was huge, but not so huge as to justify hitting me when we where the only people in the store and I was a good ten feet behind her. Then her credit card did not work and they had to call it in and I was ready to walk out, sexy pity shoes be damned. But I was so sad, I needed them. So I just snarled in silence. I was ready to punch her though.

I went and had myself some dinner (yum) while eavesdropping on a couple who were married either to each other, or others. Did not quite get it straight. The woman was haranguing the guy in a massive way, but whenever I looked up at her, she had a pleasant look on her face.

I then moved on to the hotel and had a beverage at the bar while chatting to some boys from Ottawa. (That place!). They asked me to come along and I said thanks but no thanks. I went to my room and crashed while watching Maxim's hottest 100 on E!

This morning I had breakfast at some random place. Then I stopped into Pink Berry and had a mango/original fro-yo cone and it was delicious. Now I am on a fancy bus that left on time and is showing 500 Days of Summer. I don't even have a seat mate! Yay. And I have internet. It's madness!

Last week the bus we were on just suddenly stopped on the highway. We were concerned, but the driver said nothing. He just looked repeatedly into the rearview mirror. We were sure that we were gonna be robbed, or sold into slavery. We were all too chicken to ask what was up. After 10 minutes, someone finally yelled about it. The driver, in his best pissy voice, said, "for those of you who HAVE to know why we stopped, I am resetting the bus's computer". Seriously? He couldn't have just said that?

Naptime. (Or maybe I will watch Up! I won it at the Oscar party and brought it along).

Menzelatious

I had watched a documentary about a season of Broadway and in it they showed the making of "Wicked". I remember being rather underwhelmed with Idina Menzel in the film. Next to Kristin Chenoweth's huge voice, she just came out rather muted. I think I read somewhere that she was not the greatest actress. So I subscribed to the idea that she was not that great and I vocalized this opinion to my friend.
After this past episode of Glee, the Gaga episode, with Idina finally getting a solo (she sings Funny Girl), I am in love with her. I owe her an apology for dismissing her talents without ever truly investigating them. She has such a gorgeous voice with this fantastic range. But what I love most is her vibrato. Fabulous. I wish I could sing a tenth as good.



Dear Ms. Menzel, you are truly awesome. Please forgive me for being a jerk.
Love,
Bug