When did Craig’s List go from being THE place to find an apartment (I’ve used it and had great results for five years) to the absolute worst?
It’s the same apartments getting posted every day. Half of them are scams, the rest suck. Good thing my coworker has a rodent problem and is moving out so I have someone to go halvsies on Westside Rentals with.
Also, if anybody wants to go for a nice walk this weekend to look for vacancies, you just let me know. I’ll buy you a root beer.
Season 2 of A&E's Obsessed is seriously lacking...
Last time around we had people who froze their miscarriages and wore the bloody torn clothes their dad died in. This time it’s all tappers and clean freaks. Ok, the dad who hated odd numbers and got drunk before therapy was pretty good I guess…but remember the lady who would sob uncontrollably while a steady stream of spit poured out of her mouth whenever she thought about animal cruelty? I want THAT.
I just stopped into the Starbucks on Logan Boulevard to grab a newspaper and it was hopping. How do we convince all these people that Starbucks coffee is overpriced and gross and get them to support cool local businesses like New Wave or Cafe Mustache?
I keep getting asked the same questions by various people over and over, so I figured I’d address them all right here, right now.
Why don’t we ever hang out?
I’m too busy.
Too busy? You mean to say you have absolutely NO time?
Absolutely. No. Time.
What are you so busy doing?
Working a full time job, training for a triathlon, raising $3,200 for cancer, co-writing two shows, doing improv, interning, apartment hunting, and trying to get a career going in general.
I find it hard to believe you can’t even spare ten minutes…
I’ve been home AND awake a total of twenty minutes since Sunday.
Can’t you just skip improv to hang out?
Fuck yourself. I love improv and it’s something fun I look forward to doing after a long day of everything else.
Do you wish you weren’t so overextended?
Sometimes I want to tear my hair out and sometimes I love it.
But you have time to post this to your tumblr?
I did. It took me 35 seconds. If you are jealous, you are more than welcome to come to my office and hang out for 35 seconds any time you like. Can you stop at 7-11 and bring some ice? I like to make iced tea.
I swam in the ocean for the first time last weekend. Not like first time ever in the ocean, I splash in the waves with the best of them, but this was full-on, wetsuit-wearing, dive-under-the-waves, open water ocean swimming.
Minus getting up at 6am, trying to figure out what, if anything, goes under the wetsuit, and hating with a fiery passion what a tool I must look like in a swim cap and goggles, I had a lot of fun. I’m still afraid of sharks though, so that’s my motivation to keep up with the group and not lag behind. That’s the person the sharks will go for. The slow one.
People are starting to get annoyed with my fundraising approach, saying that I’m being very aggressive about it. No shit I’m being aggressive about it. If I wasn’t aggressive I wouldn’t have raised shit because people are lazy and undependable and need to have their hand held through everything. So yeah. I have to be on that shit or it won’t get done.
Hey, hundreds of cyclists taking to the streets right now, I’d appreciate if you stop cutting people off, riding in the opposite lane of traffic, and slapping my car as of making a statement that I’m the enemy for not being on a bike.
I have a bike. And I use it. But I also have a car because I’m not a fucking hippie and sometimes I have places to be.
I need to get headshots at some point…no rush because what the fuck do I really need them for anyway, that picture Dani took five years ago for a photography project is still the best photo of me ever taken and works perfectly for any and all of my headshot needs (roughly once a month, tops), but as an entertainer I realize that this is something that should be done and therefore I am in a perpetual state of needing new headshots.
So, while I was in the car today, I was thinking about said need for photos, and how I HATE funny headshots. I get it. You do comedy. Got it. That’s no excuse to have a headshot of you wearing beer goggles or petting a rooster or having a finger mustache or any such nonsense. Let being funny show people that you are funny. Not your goofy ass headshot. You want something that says “comedy?” Smile and wear fun colors. Maybe even take your picture in an alley or in front of a mural. That’s the extent of acceptable zaniness.
But…then I got to thinking, what would MY stupid comedy headshot be if I were to take one? And I landed on huffing. Like..gold paint all over my face, holding a paper bag. Then, despite knowing full well this is a terrible TERRIBLE idea, I thought to myself “SHIT! I NEED a paint-huffing headshot!!!”
I mean, I wouldn’t use it for anything for reals, just for fun, so it’s okay? Right?
Yeah, it’s really not.
But seriously if anyone wants to take a headshot of me huffing paint, and they’ll do it for free, I’m totally down. Because if I don’t pay for it I feel that makes it justifiable.
For the past year, my roommate has refused to take a key with him when he goes running. This has caused all sorts of issues. Namely, the issue of him getting super pissed at us when he gets locked out. My thought has always been “As a normal, functioning adult, I should lock the apartment when I leave if nobody is home.”
His thought as a person with the absolute minimum amount of required brain cells to not be considered clinically retarded, is that if he is out running, he is still technically “home,” and therefore doesn’t need to lock the door. And if you like that insane lack of logic, keep reading, there is even less logic to come!
Not taking a key with him while he runs, because he thinks it’s some great big chore, has resulted in him getting inadvertently locked out well over a dozen times. That’s roughly four times more than it would take a chimpanzee to learn.
And every time he gets locked out, he gets pissed. As if his roommates are supposed to keep tabs on him and know when he is going for a run so we don’t lock him out. (He said those exact words once)
FINALLY, he started to realize that he was getting locked out and that something needs to be done about that. Mind you, so he got a spare key and put it in a flower pot. That’s okay, right?
Except for the flower pot is nowhere near out front door. It’s on the other side of the building. It’s actually in a little walkway between our building and another building. It’s actually more effort to go get that key and put it back than it would be to just TAKE THE KEY OFF YOUR KEYRING AND PUT IT IN YOUR POCKET BEFORE YOU GO RUNNING.
Also, that key is missing now.
So yesterday he goes for a run, and I leave, fully ready to lock the door behind me. I open the door and lo and behold, his ENTIRE SET OF KEYS (house, work, car, etc) is sitting on the doorstep. Out in the open. Just…right there. When I asked him later what the point in even locking the door is if he’s going to leave his keys just sitting out like that, he responds “Oh, that’s for me. So I don’t get locked out.”
So, you know, just in case I leave and lock the door. Mike can still get in. And anybody else who wants to. Because his keys are on the ground in front of the door.
LOCK THE FUCKING DOOR AND TAKE A KEY WITH YOU WHEN YOU LEAVE, YOU FUCKING IDIOT. THIS IS NOT BURNSVILLE, MINNESOTA. IT’S LOS FUCKING ANGELES.
THERE IS NOBODY IN THE WORLD WHO WOULD AGREE THAT WHAT YOU ARE DOING IS LOGICAL. NOBODY. TRUST ME I KNOW BECAUSE I’VE ALREADY TOLD HALF OF THEM THIS FUCKING STORY.
I worked in the Hollywood office. Not the Downtown office.
I worked there two years ago.
I have never had a subscription to Heart magazine, nor do I have any clue what it is.
So….this email just came to me:
We have received some mail from HEART Magazine here at the downtown office. Please let me know what you would like me to do with it. I can hold it here at the office for you to pick it up or I would be happy to forward it to another address if you have one for me.
And my response:
I am so sorry! I thought I had my address changed with HEART Magazine. Can you please forward it to my cousin? I would love to drop down to the Elves to say hello and pick it up, but I am in Turkey until the end of September. My cousin’s information is below.
Sarafina Bermhan 7307 Melrose Ave Los Angeles, CA 90046
I just found the perfect studio apartment online. Sure, I haven’t seen it in person yet but honest to Lassie I would fuck SO MANY PEOPLE to get that place. So many people. However many people. I’d just fuck and fuck and fuck until it was mine.
I didn’t mention that in the message I left the landlord, though.
I ran into the most ridiculously cute girl yesterday.
At a McDonald’s.
Where she was working.
Part of me wanted to run up to her and say something like what you’d hear in a movie, where stuff like this works all the time. You know, something along the lines of…
"Look, we’ve never met but we just made eye contact and I think you are adorable, and I don’t mind that you work at a McDonald’s because you know what, you probably have a million other things going on in your life that are what make you who you are…your job doesn’t do that. Mine doesn’t either. And you have an iPhone which means that even though you live in Toledo, you don’t live in Toledo…you know?
I’ve got this thing going in LA, but you know what? Fuck it. Nobody is real there. But this is real. You are real. And I am real. Let’s be something real. We’ll get a modest yet aesthetically-pleasing apartment…maybe a two bedroom at first because you probably have boundaries and I respect that… so we’ll get an apartment and you can rise through the ranks at McDonald’s until you own a few franchises-note that I said YOU will own them. I will not take credit for your accomplishments, and I’ll become somewhat of a local name by writing for the local paper and travel magazines. I’ll also be asked to appear on local news programs as well, which will be great because you work mornings, so we can carpool in the mornings, then grab lunch and spend our afternoons and evenings together taking naps, reading by the pool of our modest yet aesthetcically-pleasing apartment complex, and watching zombie movies until we fall asleep.”
Instead I ordered an Egg McMuffin and an orange juice from her. Then I left.
I was on that Facebook, and I came across my best friend from high school.
We were that typical story of two friends who lived together in college whose relationship ended in disaster. He was inconsiderate. Rude. Lazy. FILTHY. And tried to break into my room. He also got into a fist fight with my brother over what kind of beer was in the keg at MY HOUSEWARMING PARTY.
Anyway, we did acting and shit together in high school (2nd in the state of Michigan for our duo of “A Zoo Story” by Edward Albee!), went to college together, and then completely drifted apart because he spiraled into an unaccountable fool who once threw up on himself while driving his parents minivan to a cater-waiter gig at the Radisson in Kalamazoo, Michigan.
He came to visit me in Chicago once, but we had nothing to talk about because we seemed to have nothing in common anymore except for we both hated my new roommate at the time, Matt. (I think I’m sensing a pattern…)
Last time I saw him was three years ago when we met at a bar and all he wanted to do was smoke cigarettes and talk about film and politics, which normally I’d be all for (just kidding. I would never) but he was just a completely different person at that point and I literally did not listen to a word he said for two hours because unbeknownst to him I had gotten wasted before he arrived and just kept thinking to myself “WHO THE FUCK DID THIS GUY BECOME?”
Also he full-on abused our friend’s cat when he lived with her. Like picked it up and threw it repeatedly.
Anyway, back to Facebook. I came across a photo of him and all the community theatre productions he has been in the past three years while collecting unemployment checks (the bar he worked at closed down) and living in his parents basement.
Gays and Lesbians will be allowed to marry, which they have every right to do.
Fewer sanctimonious clipboard people outside Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods.
A-FUCKING MEN TO NUMBER 2
Oh…that’s supposed to be like “Amen”…but with FUCKING in the middle of it…you know…like “un-fucking-believable.” But given the topic of discussion it looks like it just says FUCKING MEN, which is relevant also.
I’m very excited at the prospect of working somewhere where I won’t leave the office every day with an ulcer. The bakery is a nice place with great food and people and that’s enough for me right now. No more tv production for this guy for awhile, time to enjoy a work day, keep the bills paid, and have some extra free time to work on my own projects.
Wish me luck.
Good for you! Every production job I had in LA was always spirit-crushingly awful, and I’ve never felt as creative or inspired as I do now that I finally said “Fuck it. I’m a do what I wanna do”
A lot of people may not get why somebody would prefer working at a bakery post-grad to other career options, but for who you are and what you want to do, it’s definitely the right decision.
I downloaded the Justin Bieber album, because lets face it he’s got some hits and I need something to run to. Upon closer inspection though, a couple of his songs are direct rip offs of other recent pop jams. You may be saying “But Tim, isn’t that what pop songs are, just reused melodies?” Yes,…
I would judge if I wasn’t so busy listening to Ke$ha on my own runs.