Being Thankful.

Hey. What's up? I haven't posted a blog in like two years. Not sure why, maybe stress from work, maybe depression, whatever. I'm done with all that shit. I don't want to stop doing things I love just because certain areas in my life haven't panned out the way I'd like.

I just have a few thoughts that I'd like to share.    
The past couple weeks have been a little stressful and decently productive. I think I've made some important decisions about my life.

I'm going to take dance classes to brush up on my triple-threat status. I need to be in a musical again. It's been way too long. I think I've decided on the place, I'm just gathering up the money, and it's a done deal.

I'm making more time to exercise. I'm making more time to be creative. Simple as that.

Some cool things happened:
Last week I met Fionnula Flanagan. She was absolutely delightful. She bought some coffee at the boutique and I made her a macchiato. She said it was amazing and that I made her day with it. I shook her hand and told her what an amazing actress I think she is. She was very appreciative and introduced herself formally. That made my fuckin' day.

My long-time boyfriend, Jason, and I love Disneyland. So does his brother, Matthew, and his new wife, Jessika. They had their honeymoon at the Disneyland Hotel, and they happened to get a free upgrade to a lovely suite. They invited us to stay with them since they had a pull out couch in the living area of this suite. That was pretty amazing, since we didn't expect to have the chance to stay at the REAL Disneyland Hotel anytime soon. It was beautiful! We drank a lot of alcohol. Then we decided to get in the pool and make use of the awesome water slide. I don't think I've ever gotten into a pool in November, but it was great, heated pools make it easy to deal with the cold outside. We used the hot tub too, good times. I had such a wonderful time with them.

The four of us had been wanting to get tickets to Hollywood Babble-On, a live podcast with Kevin Smith and Ralph Garman. Jason I and had seen the show once, but when we saw it, it was Ralph and Jon Lovitz, before Lovitz fucked them over. I hadn't yet seen Kevin Smith in person, and I've come to respect him so much over the past year, just learning about his life and how he went from nothing to making movies. We looked it up and found that the one day they were doing the podcast this month was while Matt and Jess were here. We grabbed some tickets right before they sold out. It was a great night of pre-game drinking, with my new beverage of choice: Whiskey and Ginger Ale...Oh my God, so goooood. We got to The Hollywood Improv Theater early and ate some food, had some wine, and laughed a lot at stupid shit as usual.
If you haven't listened to this podcast, you need to. It's super funny and witty. Basically they talk about news in Hollywood and read emails that fans send in. The catch to the reading of the emails is, Ralph Garman does some great impressions of celebrities and folks ask him to do those impressions in messages to their friends or family or whatever. Kevin has joined in on some of the funny voices as well, so I sent in an email asking Kevin's "sexy voice" and Ralph's Huell Hauser voice to tell Matt and Jessika we want then to get out of Colorado and move to LA already. They said our names and we woooed and screamed from the FRONT ROW where we were, and I felt bad because I probably blew out someone's ears, so I covered my mouth and Kevin kinda made fun of me and said I was adorable and that he was kinda turned on because we had a little erotic moment together. It was really funny and pretty fucking sweet to have Kevin Smith tell me I was adorable. It was a really unforgettable night, and I'm so glad that we all got to experience it together.


Yesterday was a simple Thanksgiving for Jason and I. Since I'm still sadly in retail, we couldn't go see our families. We bought a very large 21 pound turkey for just the two of us, but hey it was extremely inexpensive. We made food and watched TV all day. It was wonderful! I'm very happy to have him in my life, he's my support when no one else is around. I can never be sad with a nice rainy day, our two cats, and Jason. If my best friend/roommate, Neil, wasn't in Merced seeing his parents, he would've made the perfect addition to the holiday.

I'm not sure what the point of this blog is, I suppose I just needed to remind myself about the great things I still get to do, and the people I have in my life who make me very happy. I'm glad I have all my limbs, and that I have my eyesight, hearing and that I can think for myself. Soon I'll be doing what I want to do with my life, I won't be stuck in a job I don't like; I won't have to struggle so much with bills and having the energy and time to do more things that make me happy.

That's it I suppose. Hope everyone had a fantastic Thanksgiving!

The Personal Assistant: A Long Road to Hell and Back

A little over a month ago, my ass was saved. I had gotten a job. I hadn't had a steady job or paycheck (except for unemployment) in 2 years. I was desperate. I was running out of money to pay bills and my unemployment was running thin. I was having a bad day. A really bad day. I was late paying my credit cards, my savings were dwindling, and I had no hope of finding a job. I had been applying and sending resumes all day every day for weeks and nothing was coming of it. I called my boyfriend, Jason, at work, I cried to him. I was so worried that I couldn't find any work. He tried to console me but at the moment it was no use, I was freaking out. I think we even argued about finances a little while we were on the phone. About 5 minutes later, as I was monotonously sending out another resume and cover letter, I got a text from my friend, Natalie. She asked if I was still looking for a job. I told her I was desperate. She said she had a friend who was looking for a personal assistant. That was right up my alley, because I want to keep the flexibility to be able to audition. It was like the Universe opened up and dropped this potential job right in my lap.

 I anxiously called the number. No one answered, so I left a message, thinking whoever it was probably wouldn't even get back to me. I went back to my craigslist job hunt. About 10 minutes later, they called back. I answered and an enthusiastic woman named Charo explained to me what the job entailed. She was seeking someone to be an assistant to her business partner, David. Seemed easy enough. She then asked me if I could meet them at 8pm that evening at his house. It was already after 6pm...Not only had I been crying, but I was battling a small sinus infection, so I looked like shit, and I hadn't bathed yet that day...But I agreed to meet them at 8pm. I took the fastest shower ever, put on a little makeup, found something kind of decent to wear, and left in a hurry. 

I arrived at David's condo, and rang the gate bell. It buzzed me in and I walked into the small courtyard, which was very nice and peaceful. There was a small Koi pond with a bridge in the middle of the courtyard. I thought this place would be nice to work at every day. How wrong I was. I walked up to the door and before I could knock, a short, overly buff, middle-aged man opened the door abruptly. The serene atmosphere of the courtyard was instantly taken away. It was still light outside, but as I looked past David's shoulder into his apartment, it was all dark, except for DJ/Disco lights, and black lights...He also had house music blasting loudly. Now, I love house music, so that was cool and all, but I really didn't want to enter this place by myself when it was all dark and shit. Suddenly, Charo walked up from the gate and immediately gave me a hug, really making me feel better about walking into this place. 

As soon as I walked in, I noticed a stripper pole to my left in the living room. I kinda just wanted to run out the door, but I didn't. I'm not one to judge, so it didn't matter too much to me. I noticed right away that David was kind of, out-there, but he seemed nice, and he and Charo and I talked for quite a while. From what I gathered, David was extremely disorganized, harried, and just plain hyper. I’m pretty sure he was on some kind of drugs. He explained that he was in the music business, and had recently started writing contracts to sign artists to him so he could manage them and make money from their success. Along with that, he wanted to write a movie, and blah blah blah…He decided right then and there that he wanted to hire me, and I was extremely relieved to have a job. They talked about getting me an iPhone and possibly an iPad, and I was in shock over this since I never thought I'd have the money to get either of those things myself. I was so happy and grateful that I would have this new job with these kinds of perks. They told me that the next day, they had an important meeting with people to start working on their projects, and they needed me there to keep David organized, and to take minutes. I should have known from how long it took me to get out of there that night, that that kind of thing would be regular; always waiting for David to do what he needed to do. Constantly having to remind him of the same thing over and over again. He took forever to draw up a non-disclosure agreement for me to sign. I think I finally left after 10pm.

The meeting the next day was, in all honesty, a joke. Seriously, only a few people were actually there. David had told the graphic design artist the wrong place to go, so the poor guy was on the other side of town, asking where WE were…it was not very good. The only people who were there were, me, David, Charo, David’s business partner, Brian, and some girl they hired to do “marketing”. That was it. It was so not what I thought it was going to be, and not really professional at all. I started to figure out right away that this guy was kind of just, all talk and no deliver.

Charo, on the other hand, was actually showing that she had quite a few connections in the biz, and she delivered. Everyone we got to talk to after that was someone she knew. She got camera crews, producers, investors, you name it. She had written screenplays that actually won awards, and she really seemed to be trying to make something of her life. David, well, he always found weird, crazy people, who were usually flakes or liars that didn’t have anything to offer us. Over the span of the month that I worked for him, I knew he wasn’t going to get much done, or get anywhere with what he wanted to do, even as much as I was trying to help him. I did everything he asked me to do and it still really wasn’t enough to make any headway. I tried to keep him on task, I constantly reminded him of things that need to be done, but he never seemed to be listening.

Gradually I noticed that David went from being super ecstatic that he had me as his assistant, to barely acknowledging I was around. When I first started, everything I did got a great reaction from him: “I knew I hired you for the right reason! Sarah, you’re awesome, you’re the best! Everything is so much easier now that you’re helping me!” After a few weeks, I barely got a “thanks” from him for anything. Suddenly he was involved in some major drama with his second ex-wife. She was hacking his phones and computer, and going all psycho on him. Instead of handling the situation with poise and maturity, he acted like a child in junior high school. He’s the kind of person that won’t just go to the police if someone is doing something illegally to him, most likely because he’s done those same illegal things and then some, and he wouldn’t want to get caught for those things either. Anyway, instead of doing the right thing, he just HAD to hack into her things too, and break into her apartment and steal incriminating evidence of what she was doing to him. He became completely consumed with trying to bully her off facebook and looking at what she was doing all day every day. I would ask him if he needed me for the day, or even the week, and all I got was “no.” No explanation, just, “no.” He would say he had “errands” to run, but um, wait, I was his assistant, shouldn’t I be running the fucking errands?! I knew then that he was lying and what I heard from people who knew him was, he was obsessing over his ex, just like I thought. He wasn’t running errands; he was stalking her just like she was stalking him.

David hadn’t used me for work in a week. I finally got a couple hours of work in on the day before I was leaving for Yosemite to go camping with my friends. The whole two hours I was at his place, I really didn’t have much of anything to do. About 30 minutes after I arrived he said, “So, what are you doing right now?” and I said, “Um nothing. You haven’t given me anything to do yet.” He then told me to call Verizon because both of his phones were messing up. I had been through this with him before, and I can honestly tell you, any tech problems he had, were his own fucking fault. He has no idea how to use any of the gadgets he gets, and he never thinks it’s his fault, of course he thinks it’s the device, or someone else’s problem. I called Verizon while he went out to do who knows what, and they wanted me to do a hard reset on the phones. When he got back I told him this, and he got really upset and told me “No no no, you have to tell them I need the phone records because my ex is hacking into them!” and so on, and I stopped him and said, “Wait just a minute, you never told me to tell them ANY of this, and besides that, they need a subpoena from the POLICE if you want the records in the first place.” And going to the police was something he kept saying he would do, but hadn’t done it yet. He kept forgetting what he had told me to do or what he hadn’t told me to do, because he just wasn’t paying any attention to anything but his obsession with his ex. He wasn’t remembering anything correctly. I feel like he has been on this downward spiral for a while and I was just getting the brunt end of it. When I left his house that day I was furious. How dare he try to act like it was my fault that he didn’t tell me important information I needed to do MY job.

I went to Yosemite and heard nothing from him except for him trying to get the phone number of the glass repair guy so he could put glass in a closet door so he could make it into a recording booth…and I told him for the third time that the glass guys won’t touch the door until a carpenter cuts the wood out of the door because the glass guys wouldn’t do that part themselves, but as usual he didn’t listen to me anyway.

I came back from Yosemite and kept asking him if he needed me to work and he would either not answer or just reply by text, “No.” I was starting to worry, since I had made almost no money in the last week and a half. I was getting pissed that he was avoiding me. On payday, I texted him, asking if he needed me, and again, he said he didn’t, and I told him I wanted to come by and get my check. I also asked him if he even wanted me to work for him anymore…he didn’t answer that question at all, but told me to come by and get my check. My stomach dropped. I knew that since he didn’t answer my question, everything was ending.

I took my best friend, Neil, with me over to David’s for support because I had a bad feeling about it all. I let myself into his house, and as usual, he wasn’t there when he said he would be. I texted him and told him I was waiting for him. He finally arrived with bank statements in his hands, reading them , not really paying attention to me. He said his bank accounts were frozen because somehow they had fraud attempted on them, which I don’t believe since he owes some much to the IRS, I think they seized his accounts. He then asked if I had talked to Charo much, and I lied and said no. A week before this, Charo had decided to cut all ties with him, because he was treating her like shit and not paying her for any of the work she had done to help him. I knew all of this, but only let on to a little. He started ranting about how since she was gone, all the projects he was working on couldn’t be worked on anymore, and he kept saying they weren’t going anywhere anyway, which is a bunch of shit, but he likes to make himself think that only the things HE does are the right ones, but that’s just his silly defense mechanism. So in his mind, since there were no projects for him, there was no need for me anymore. Just like that. No warning, no remorse, just, “I don’t really need you right now”. I knew it was coming, and I tried to prepare for it, but I couldn’t. I was scared shitless because I have no other income and not much money in the first place, and rent was coming up in a couple days. He then had the audacity to ask if I was going to give him the iPhone and iPad right then, and I told him I would restore them first, then give them to him. I started to cry. I didn’t want him to see me in a weak moment like that, but I was so fucking angry that I couldn’t help it. I told him I wanted my check and he said that I should call him the next day and he would give me a personal check since that was the only account he had open at the moment. All of this was so nonchalant, as though it should be no big deal to me. This only enraged me more. He was just like, yeah call me tomorrow and I will pay you, like it was nothing. I was standing there in front of him, crying, my heart on my sleeve, and he didn’t give a fuck. I knew he wouldn’t, but it was still so shocking to actually be in the presence of a true sociopath; someone who really did not care about anyone else but himself. I have never met anyone else in real life who is like that. I threw my copies of his keys on the counter. Before walking out the door, I turned to him and said, “You really just don’t give a shit do you?” and he looked at me and his bank statements as though I was just talking about the money for that pay period. He looked at me as though I had some other source of money I could just tap into for whatever I needed. He couldn’t even say anything. I said, “You don’t even fucking realize that I have NOTHING, no other source of income but this job! So now I’m fucked because you don’t give a shit. Thanks for fucking nothing.” And I walked out. I knew there was no reason to continue on and cuss him out because he wasn’t listening anyway. Although, I must say, it was the first time I had ever seen him not say a fucking word after someone yelled at him. He usually takes it from 0 to 10 in a heartbeat as far as his anger goes when people stand up to him, but when I said these things to him, he couldn’t say a fucking word.

 

The next day, I went to his place to get my check. If he wasn’t going to pay me I was prepared to keep the iPhone and iPad until he did. I called him twice, kept ringing the bell outside, and he wasn’t answering. I called again and left a message saying that I was leaving in 15 minutes and he would have to mail my check, and I told him he wasn’t getting his shit back until I got my money. The son of a bitch called me right back. He asked when I would be there, and I very sternly told him I had already been there for ten fucking minutes. He came to the garage and opened it. I told him I didn’t want to go in his house, I just wanted my check. He said he didn’t bring his checkbook outside with him. We walked to the elevator, and the piece of shit actually tried to make small talk with me. I kept my sunglasses on, looked straight forward and didn’t respond, didn’t say a word to him at all. I totally ignored everything he said. He went upstairs and wrote the check. I grabbed it out of his hand, threw the i-Shit at him and walked out the door. I wanted to say so many mean things to him, but like I said, it wouldn’t have mattered in the first place, because he wouldn’t have heard any of it. He’s a sick person, with many internal demons, and that’s the only thing he’s focused on.

I’m angry. Not about the fact that I’m not working for him. I’m angry because he had the power to do what he did to me. Now that it’s over, he has no power over me. I talked to Charo and she’s paying me to work for her until I can find a new job. If it wasn’t for her, I don’t know what I would’ve done. I’m always trying to be positive that things will work out for the best. I want to be able to afford my OWN iPhone and iPad one day. I don’t want to struggle anymore. I’m using all my negative energy toward being creative, instead of dwelling on the bad parts of what happened. I’ve got some of my own projects that I’m working now to get me where I want to be, and I know people who can help with it all. The only thing I needed David for was a paycheck, and he barely gave me that. He has nothing else to offer anyone in this world, and I firmly believe that anyone in their right mind would be a happier person for the rest of their life if they stay away from him. He needs help, and he won’t admit it. He won’t go anywhere in life treating people the way he does. And in the end, the only thing he has is the one thing he’s most afraid of. Himself.

Ah Yes...Talent Agencies Are Liars Too...

Yes.  I'm still on the hunt for a job.  It's been way too long since I've written a blog.  I know.  But, alas, depression will do that to you.  You forget about some of the important things in your life.  Like, things you love to do.  So instead of doing the things you love, you sink into your ass mark on the couch, and play Red Dead Redemption and Sims 3 on the xbox all fucking day, wishing your life was better, and wondering why it's not, only to realize it's your own God damn fault in the first fucking place.

Other than trying to up my Gamerscore, things have sort of fallen apart lately.  The reason I couldn't really do much job hunting is, my boyfriend, Jason, has had the unfortunate luck of finding cars that are lemons.  The last two cars he had died on him.  Since I have had no job, I let Jason take my car to work.  I had no where else to be.  It worked out well.  Now Jason has a car.  It's running decently, although it does need a few things done, and we've put a great deal of money into fixing up, but it's regular car maintenance things and lemon-involved things, so it's ok so far.  Anyway, this long rant has only a little bit to do with the real story here.  Now that I have my car back, I've been on the hunt for a job...

I used to be naive.  Even now, I usually try to see the good in all people.  Even if they don't deserve that.  I've been applying for any and every job.  Almost.  There are certain things I won't do.  I will not work at a fast food place.  I'd like to keep the urge to kill myself at a minimum, so yeah, fast food is out.  I will not work retail.  I've had enough of it.  That goes hand in hand with not wanting to kill myself.  I will not prostitute or star in porn.  Besides not having the body or looks for either of the two, I wouldn't want to feel completely dead inside, which, let's face it, all hookers and porn stars feel that way, haha. Yes, I laugh at my own jokes.  But again, I digress.

I sent a resume to a talent agency which was looking for a receptionist.  I have been sending out so many resumes and not hearing back from anyone that when I heard back from these guys, I jumped on the opportunity for an interview.  It was scheduled for this past Tuesday at 12pm.  You know when your brain tries to warn you that you shouldn't do something?  Usually I follow along with it, but this time I didn't.  I almost didn't go to my interview because when I woke up that morning, I had a splitting headache.  It was so bad I felt sick to my stomach.  What a great time to get a migraine sinus headache huh?  I was in so much pain I could barely open my eyes.  Jason wanted to help make sure I would get well enough to go to the damn interview so he gave me a bunch of pills and I took Pepto, and all that good stuff so I could start getting ready to go.  I finally started feeling better, and I got all dolled up.

I arrived a few minutes early at Alliance Talent Agency in Studio City.  I'm telling you the name because I want to warn you all to stay away from these scamming bastards.  I walked into the TINY office.  It consisted of the main office area which was smaller than my living room, and my living room ain't that big.  There was a small bathroom to the left, and what I assumed was the actual agent's office behind the closed door next to the bathroom.  There were quite a few waiting chairs, so I took the seat nearest the TINY desk, which no one was sitting at.  On the desk there was a sign-in sheet, some business cards, and a laptop.  I thought that was kind of strange.  Just a laptop and not a PC?  Usually, offices have real, non-portable computers on the desks, but there could be lots of reasons they didn't have it that way.  The business cards had a woman's name on them, an agent I supposed.  I wondered, if that was her desk and the other office had the other agent in it, where would they put a receptionist?  The only things on the walls were, a poster from True Blood and one from Inception, both with barely legible scribblings saying thanks for their success and whatnot.  In front of me on the other wall was a very small collection of like, three headshots?  I say headshots with a question mark because they were AWFUL and cheesy, and not very professional looking.  They each had some chicken-scratch writing and "autographs" on them as well.  None of this deterred me yet.

As I sat waiting for the door to open, a couple more women came in and sat, waiting to have their interviews as well.  Finally, the door opened and a tall, young man, who was trying very hard to look important, came out and asked who was first.  I stood up and almost laughed out, "Me."  I followed him into his office as he shut the door behind us.  He asked me my name, and didn't even bother to introduce himself.  I finally started to feel apprehensive.  He didn't even say much about anything when suddenly, he asked if I was an actress.  He said that I had a very professional but sweet look about me.  Well, I'm not usually one to lie, especially when a fucking agent asks me if I act.  Of course I told him yes, hoping I could just get an agent instead of a job at that moment.  He then proceeded to tell me that if I was looking for an agent, he would love to meet with me very soon, and that would mean he couldn't hire me as a receptionist because he didn't hire actors.  He gave me his card, and literally 5 minutes after I got in there, I was out the door.  Wait...what the fuck happened to this being a job interview?

I admit, for a moment, I was taken in, totally flattered by the compliment.  Ok, it was longer than a moment, it was like, the whole way home.  I had the high hope of ending up with an agent by the end of the week.  When I got home, I do what I normally do before getting into anything serious.  I looked him up.  I like to find reviews on anything I purchase, or places I want to go, including jobs I want before actually saying yes to them.  I did a search on ATA (Alliance Talent Agency) and found some interesting and frustrating things.

I happened upon the Backstage West forums and started to read about this agency.  As I read, my face went from smiling happily, to normal, to just plain pissed off.  Numerous people were complaining about this joker ripping them off and of course never calling them back.  Many said when they met with him, he didn't even introduce himself, which is what he did to me!  He would tell people that their headshots were just ok, and that they needed new ones in order to sign with him.  He would give them the number of his "brother", Moe, and expect them to pay upwards of $500 for new headshots.  He would then never call these poor actors back.  It's obvious he's been receiving kickbacks from this guy Moe, and they share the profits from these headshots.  They claim to be a SAG franchised agency, which I've heard, just about anyone off the street can become SAG franchised these days.  SAG has actually received numerous calls with complaints about Alliance Talent Agency.  How does anyone like this actually stay in business without the Better Business Bureau coming after them?  Every review I saw of this agency said it was obvious that this person has no idea how to be an agent, let alone run an agency.

Then, I lost it.  I called Jason, and basically broke down because I was so angry.  I'm tired of not having money, and not being able to take care of myself.  I just want a job AND an agent.  I could go on and on, but, it won't help anything.  I will have to keep working hard to get what I want.  I know, I have so much to be thankful for, including the fact that I'm smart enough to research things before getting screwed.  I just hate getting my hopes up, and not being one to have already known about this piece of shit "agency" a long time ago.  Actors beware: Alliance Talent Agency (ATA) is a bunch of fucking bullshit.

The Professional Squatter

The International Squatter's Symbol

Squatter: A person who settles on land or occupies property without title, right, or payment of rent (Dictionary.com). Indeed. My friend Kellie has run into a problem. She has a squatter. Not just any squatter...A professional squatter, keeping her things in her guest house. It sounds strange, I know, so let me explain.

Gather 'round children, and listen to a story about my friend Kellie. Kellie lives in a house. She works from home, as a graphic artist, writer and photographer. Her landlord is a client of hers. She is in charge of finding roommates to help pay the rent. Kellie recently kicked out some roommates who were not too clean, and didn't know how to take care of their cats. Yikes! The people who moved out, knew someone looking for a place to stay. A woman by the name of Suzanne. Kellie desperately needs roommates so she decided to meet Suzanne. Now children, let me tell you about Suzanne. She is a middle-aged woman, about 5'3" in height, with crusty platinum blonde hair and dark roots. She has what I call a "muffin top". A "muffin top" is what happens when someone is too big to fit into the pants they wear, so they wear them lower on their hips, and the pants are too tight, so their fat sticks out all around their waist, like a muffin top. Yes, Suzanne has a muffin top, people. Not just any ordinary muffin top, oh no. She has the worst kind. She wears tiny tank tops that don't cover her stomach, so all the stomach fat is completely exposed to our eyes. And it hurts to look at it. Anyway, Suzanne told Kellie she wanted to rent the guest house. The guest house is a bedroom with a closet and a bathroom, and a separate entrance from the actual house. She asked if she could pay lower rent in exchange for gardening and maintenance. That sounded fair enough to Kellie. As it turns out, there is a lot Kellie didn't know.

According to California Law, squatters have rights. They have the right to squat and not pay rent if they have done something like gardening or maintenance for the landlord. Ah, but alas, there is a lot Suzanne doesn't know either. The law says that squatters can inhabit an uninhabited piece of property, not one that has people living in it. At least, that's what I've read. Also, a squatter has to prove that they have been sleeping at the place they are squatting and keeping their things.

This woman, Suzanne started doing gardening, and had a garage sale to get rid of some of her things, and hadn't paid rent yet, even though she had already moved her things onto the property. Kellie had loaned Suzanne a bed to put in her room, but Suzanne had never once slept on the property. She would go to her boyfriend's house each night. Suzanne came by the other day when Kellie wasn't home, and changed the locks on the guest house and the shed in the backyard! Without asking. She thinks she knows everything but she doesn't. When Kellie said she couldn't do that, she threatened Kellie, saying she would burn the house down, and all kind of other things. Sounds like Suzanne has lost her marbles, huh? Her boyfriend blocked the driveway with his "rapist van" so Kellie couldn't get out. By the way children, a "rapist van" is a van that is usually white or black in color, although they can be just about any color. Usually, it's a van with two vertical opening doors in the back, and either tinted or no windows at all. Stay away from these vans, they most likely have someone inside who wishes to do you bodily harm! Hence the term, "rapist van". Kellie called the police, very frightened, and of course it took them an hour to get there, and of course they said there was nothing they could do. They told Kellie not to touch Suzanne's things, but they told Suzanne to leave for the night. That's when Jason and I got a call from Kellie.

The next day, Jason and I went to Kellie's house. Kellie informed us that she had called a detective. The detective asked what the woman's name was, and when she told him, he knew who she was! We thought that was weird, but it wasn't. She is a known squatter, and of course, quite the drug addict. Makes sense. The detective said he was on his way. About 20 minutes later, he and his partner arrived at the house. Children, I would like to introduce you to the detectives. A burly, tall, black man, with a .45 strapped to his waist. His partner, a shorter, Hispanic man, with a suit coat on. Very nice men, both of them. They asked questions, and talked to the neighbors who were able to attest to the fact that Suzanne had never once slept at the house. Since Susanne isn't as smart as she thinks she is, she didn't realize that she should've found a way to lock the windows to the room too, and she could've put a much sturdier lock on the shed, if she didn't want anyone getting in. The detectives advised Kellie to take pictures of all of Suzanne's things where they were, and to move all of her things out of the room and shed onto the back patio, and take pictures of it all out there. Those wonderful men, who have higher authority over the police, what with knowing all the laws and stuff, well, they saved Kellie that day.

As soon as they left, we got to work. We broke in through the window of the room and opened the door to find the most random things a person could ever supposedly want. Basically, it was obvious that most of her things were stolen. There were kid's toys, because she had said she was a part time nanny, there were crystal bowls and many other items that looked like they belonged to an elderly woman, which was because she supposedly also took care of old people...from whom she stole things I guess...Anyway, there were golf clubs and speakers, old lady outfits, phonics help books, like 4 different vanities, just all kinds of crap.  Same thing with the shed.  We broke in rather easily, since the lock was practically falling off anyway, and found many more strange items.  We carefully started taking everything and putting it out on the patio, hoping that Suzanne wouldn't happen to show up with her boyfriend while we were doing this. It's all about teamwork, children.  You can get so much more accomplished, much faster with the use of teamwork.  We were like a well-oiled machine.  Passing things to each other, organizing them properly outside.  It didn't take us too long, and Kellie put a note that the detective left for Suzanne up on the door to the guest house.  The note basically informed Suzanne that he knew about her being there, and that it would be best if she didn't cause any trouble, and just take her things and leave.  He signed it with his name, because she had had many encounters with him already, and he hoped that upon just seeing his name, she would reconsider her actions and threats.  We then also changed the locks.  Not only to the guest room and shed, but to the entire house.  The was quite an ordeal, because they were tough to make fit in the doors, and we worked at that task for hours.  So much for the well-oiled machine...Jason and I were on the brink of fighting about how to get the locks to work, and Kellie couldn't get hers to work either.  Now children, it's imperative that you understand it's not right to argue when trying to finish a task.  It makes things much harder on everyone involved.  Around dusk, we finally got the locks installed properly.

The detectives had also told Kellie that after putting her things outside and changing the locks, she should call or text Suzanne telling her what went on and that the detective had been there and said hello.  Sure enough, when she got the next call from Suzanne, she was as nice as she could be!  She informed Kellie she would be coming to get her things in a day or so.  From what I understand, she packed up almost all of her things and said she would be back to get the last of it later.  I believe there are still a few things there that Kellie is storing outside, and if they get ruined, well it's Suzanne's loss, not hers.  She hasn't heard from her since. 

Well kiddies, Kellie's squatter story is coming to an end.  This whole thing was a little unnerving, knowing that almost anyone can walk up to your house and decide they want to stay there, and actually DO it.  They even have website for professional squatters!  They tell you all about what your rights are, and what to do when someone tries to kick you out!  What in the hell is this world coming to for God's sake?  Overall, I am glad we were able to help Kellie, and none of us got our asses kicked by weirdos.  Ah, the crazy people we attract...It's like a running gag now...But so far, she is living happily ever after?  I guess we are too?  Whatever...

FUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!! What is this??? Butt Fuck Road?? Judas Priest!!

Jason's Dad, being silly.

Ah yes....dads...Aren't they colorful with their language?  My roommate/best friend Neil, and my boyfriend, Jason, and I all have dads with extremely explosive tempers.  They all come from the generation that disciplines children in public, they have no shame in embarrassing their kids whenever they go out, by getting angry at the smallest thing, and showing their anger for all to see.  And it's not just regular anger, it's like all the curse words of the world unite at once in their mouths and come out with a vengeance.  Here are a few random stories about their rage.

Rick Wade:
Jason's father.  A cowboy at heart, average height, with a big, brown, fluffy mustache.  He likes to wear Wranglers and cowboy boots with Hawaiian shirts...

Rick's choice phrase is "Judas Priest!".  Judas Priest are a Grammy Award winning English heavy metal band from Birmingham, formed in 1968.  Why he uses this name as a forceful tactic to show that he is perturbed, no one knows.  It could be at the most random moment when he's upset, although he also uses this choice phrase when he thinks something is funny.  When Jason told me about the whole Judas Priest thing, I wasn't sure I believed it.  Then we went to visit his family in Colorado...We were outside having a family barbecue, and we started telling jokes.  I am not usually very good at getting to the punch-line of jokes, but I decided to try one out. 
Me: "So a guy dies and goes to Hell.  He meets with the Devil and the Devil starts to take him on a tour of the fiery underworld.  He tells the guy he has to choose one form of torture to go through for all of eternity.  He takes him all over and there are people getting burned, stretched, poked, all kinds of awful things.  Then they come across one room where there is a group of people standing waist deep in shit, drinking coffee.  The guy thinks, hey that can't be too bad, just standing in shit drinking coffee all day.  So he tells the Devil he wants that one.  The Devils says ok, and the guy gets into the shit, and gets his first cup of coffee.  Less than 5 minutes later, the Devil comes back and says, 'Ok assholes, coffee break's over!  Back on your heads!'"

Without missing a beat, everyone laughed, which I thought was cool because I actually told a joke right, (thanks to MY dad for telling me that one) and then it happened.  Rick Wade laughed out loud and said, "Ah Judas Priest that's funny!"  It was great.  I told him that I was happy to finally get the chance to hear him say it, and Jason said his "I told you so!" and his dad laughed because he never admits to saying his famous phrase.  Every time I see him, and we bring it up, he will say with a smile, "What?  I don't say that.  You guys don't know what you're talking about."  He is awesome.

Neil Wilson II:
Neil's father.  A white man whose mannerisms and speech could make anyone believe he is black if they weren't looking at him while he talks.  Quite a tall man, with curly grey hair.  He plays the bongos and used to jam with Santana.  Hells yeah, mo fo, he is the real deal an' shit.  Neil's dad is one man who does not care whom he curses in front of, and will take his rage from 0 to 10 in mere seconds...

My best friend recalls one late night he was in the car with his father.  Neil Wilson II was tired, probably from working and whatnot.  Young Neil's mother asked her husband if he could go to Jack in the Box and get her a special burger that she liked, and young Neil said he would like something too, so he would go with his dad.  Things were fine and dandy as they drove down the street to the fast food establishment.  They pulled into the drive-thru, and started ordering.  Little Neil ordered what he wanted, and so did his dad, and then dad ordered for mom.  The voice over the loud speaker said, "Sorry we don't have that anymore."  And there they were, at zero, then suddenly at 10.  A crazed look came across Neil Sr.'s face.  Then into the the loud speaker he yelled, "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!" and he carried it on all through the drive-thru as he sped off.  He didn't stop to get any food, and as they raced through the drive-thru, young Neil could see the horrified look on people's faces, wondering what this old guy's problem was.  Neil sunk down in his seat, hoping not to be seen.  Needless to say they just went home.

James Gragg:
My father.  The king of all bad words.  A former hippie, who escaped his home life by riding freight trains with friends.  He is average in height, with reddish hair and freckles.  He too, gets mad very quickly and doesn't care who sees or hears it.  It could happen anytime, anywhere.  Whether he's fixing something or playing a video game.  (Yes my dad plays video games on Xbox 360).

One time, when I was a little younger, although not much, I think I was in high school or even college, I remember a phrase my dad used, and I will never forget it.  It was quite random, and I've never heard it since.  He was driving, and we were trying to find something, I don't remember what, but it was kind of important I suppose.  We were out on highway 59, and anyone who knows Merced knows that the highway was mostly fields and cement, concrete or gravel/sand companies, with a few houses scattered here and there.  My dad was getting agitated.  We were looking for a road that we had to turn onto, and we weren't finding it.  He started muttering curses under his breath like "Son of a bitch" and "God Dammit".  I told him to calm down, we would find it.  We saw a road coming up on the right.  My dad decided to make the turn onto it.  It wasn't what we wanted.  It was a dirt road!  My dad was mad not only because it wasn't the right road, but he also HATES driving his car on dirt roads.  He is very particular about scratches and dents and dirt getting on the car, and dirt roads can fuck a car up.  So as usual, out of nowhere, my dad got so angry, that as he was flipping a U-turn to get back onto the main road, he shouted, "WHAT IS THIS??  BUTT-FUCK ROAD??"  I'll let you all take that one in for a moment...I can't talk about it or even write about it without laughing my ass off.  Like, really dad?  What the hell does that even mean?  At the time I remained silent, because I knew if I said anything it would just make the situation worse.  Later I made fun of him for it like crazy, and he swears like Jason's dad, that he has no recollection of saying it.  Wow.

My dad...driving...hold on to your hats.

Anyway, I am sure I will write another blog soon about more things that our dads say in fits of anger, because there are plenty more stories to tell.  I just love the fact that me, Jason and Neil all have dads that get angry so fast, and we can share our stories.  And they wonder why we all cuss like sailors.  Dads say the darnedest things...

Top center: Rick wade
Bottom right: James Gragg
Sadly I don't have any pics of Neil's dad.  I will post one when I get one.

"I just made out with a Mexican painter..."

Do you ever feel like you just happen to attract all the crazy people in the world? I mean, like the real psychos. I feel like I do, for sure. The following are the true accounts of my encounters with the crazy woman that lives in my apartment building.

It was a relaxing day at the pool for my roommate, Neil and I...At first. We were swimming, and being silly in the pool. We tend to act like children in the pool, and I guess it's because we are just so happy to have a pool that we get lost in our childhood love for the water. Either way, we were splashing around, making the usual amount of noise you would hear at a pool, nothing to loud or crazy.

Intro: The Blonde Bombshell. That's what I call her. A woman who lives down the hall from us, with blonde hair, quite the chubby figure, and a need to wear way too much perfume. She also likes to wear outfits that do not belong on someone of her size, like, short summer dresses, and wedge heels. Since the day we moved in, I knew something was off about her, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was exactly. The day at the pool gave me quite a glimpse as to what it is.

So Neil and I were swimming, as I said. The Blonde Bombshell came out to sit on one of the lounge chairs and started talking to Neil. I tried to ignore her, but Neil is such a nice person, that he will listen to anyone talk forever...She proceeded to tell him that he was so skinny that he looked sick. She asked him numerous times why he is so skinny. I've noticed that she will ask inappropriate questions like a child would, and tends to ask you "why?" on everything that you say. So Neil politely said he didn't think he was that skinny, and on that all went for a few minutes. Then randomly, after sitting on the chair watching us swim and talk for what seemed like forever, she got up and started walking to the apartment building entrance. As she walked toward the door she said vehemently to us, "You guys should really keep the noise down, your voices really carry and people can hear everything you're saying." Now, I am the kind of person that when told to do or not to do something that someone has no authority over, gets very angry very fast, and will in turn do that thing they say not to even more. So I said, "Well, it's not nighttime, so we have every right to talk, considering we are not being excessively loud." She said, "Why don't you guys just relax instead of splashing around so much?" I said, "Well we don't have to just because you told us to, so byeeeee!" And with that, she flounced toward the door and said nothing else. The few other people out in the pool area looked at us like, wow what was her problem? And we couldn't help but laugh at the situation. Of course Neil and I continued on with our splashing and talking.

About a week later, I had my good friend, Belle, over to swim with Neil and I. Things once again started out normal, and we were having a fine time, swimming and laughing. Suddenly, the Blonde Bomshell appeared. She seriously must have been waiting for someone to come out to the pool, so she could come downstairs and talk with them, or make their lives hell...She promptly said hello and asked us all our names. Neil and Belle answered with their names, and I just said, "Grace." I didn't want her to know my real name. She told us her name is Stephanie and started blabbing on about random things, and we all decided that we should just go back up the apartment, because we didn't want to deal with it. We said we had to go, and left the area. About 20 minutes later, we really wanted to get back in the pool so we snuck downstairs again to see if she was still there. She wasn't, so we got back in the pool. And wouldn't you know it, like clockwork, she was right back down there as soon as she heard us outside again...

"I just made out with a Mexican painter on the 3rd floor!" Yes, people, that's what she said as soon as she came outside. Um, ok... "I don't even know his name but I just walked up to him while he was painting one of the apartments.." It was so random that it was hard not to laugh. We all just kind of shrugged and let the moment pass. Stephanie then asked us what we all do for a living, and we just told her we are actors, and she went through her series of "Why?" questions, and when it got quiet again she looked at Belle and said, "If you're an actress you should lose some weight because you won't get any jobs looking like that." What the fuck did she just say?? As if SHE is skinny and pretty? Are you fucking kidding me? Neil and I immediately told her that it was not a nice thing for her to say which she basically ignored. In hopes that she would soon leave, we stayed in the pool while listening to her talk about her ex, who was Middle Eastern, and how he cheated on her, and how she was on disability leave from her job with Delta Airlines and blah blah blah...Once again, out of nowhere, Stephanie targeted Belle. She stopped smiling, looked at her as if extremely angry and said, "Did you cheat with my ex? 'Cause if you did, I would kill you. Seriously. I would kill you." Ok, shit was starting to seemingly get a little out of hand. We all looked stunned I'm sure. I remember saying something about the fact that it was really not cool that she would even think of saying something like that especially since Belle didn't even know her ex, and we once again decided to leave the pool area. She acted as though nothing had even happened, and as we gathered our things and made our way to the door, she followed us! We were a little uneasy as she hurried to catch up with us, not knowing what she was going to do. As we got into the lobby, a man in a wheelchair was waiting for the elevator. With no regard for this man, Stephanie said loudly, "That guy right there is handicapped!" Talk about random. At this point, I am thinking, oh my God, why us? Why do we have to be stuck near such a crazy person? Needless to say, we took the stairs...

The next week I went to complain to the landlord. I explained that we were uncomfortable with the things she was saying to us, and that she constantly followed us outside every time we went swimming. The landlord explained that The Blonde Bombshell has lived in this building for almost 20 years, and has mental instabilities. She also said that she's had many complaints over the years and the police have been called SEVERAL times! When they take her away, they don't take her to jail, just an institution, but they can only hold her for a couple days of course. The landlord said she would kick her out but Stephanie has nowhere to go. No family, no friends, nothing. She said that everyone who has lived here for a while knows this, and it's usually the newer tenants who complain because they don't know her. She supposedly was switching medications or psychologists and was apparently having a rough time, and that's why she was acting so weird. The landlord explained that we should do our best to ignore Stephanie because she is not harmful, and if you listen to her crap, she will latch onto you and show up at your apartment at all hours to talk...Oh my. Overall the landlord feels bad for her. That makes sense but geez, we all have to go through dealing with her mood swings and shit? Great. Just fucking great.

Dog Sitting and Shattered Plates

About two times a year, I dog/house sit for some very nice people in Tarzana. For the last 10 days, I stayed at their house to make sure the dog is all right. Her name is Riley, and she is very old, and has arthritis, and pancreatitis, and all kinds of ailments. Her owners need someone to stay with her, at least at night, because she gets a little scared if no one is there. Needless to say, this dog doesn't do very much. She can't really run anymore, and she lays on her bed and sleeps a lot. She gets silly every once in a while, and will roll around, and try to play with a chewed up tennis ball, but she can't do that for very long, since she is in pain. I give her baby aspirin in a piece of cheese every once in while to ease that. It's an easy job.

Some of the time I am there, Jason will come by and stay with me, because, like the dog, I get scared when I am by myself, and besides barking loudly, the dog can't do much to protect me if something happens. A few days ago, in the early afternoon, Jason and I were standing near the steps to the living room, about 15 feet from the kitchen. Riley was laying on her bed, minding her own business, just as we were, when suddenly...CRASH!!!!!!!!!!

The old, arthritic dog, who can't run anymore, RAN out the back door into the back yard, scared shitless! Jason and I, scared shitless as well, witnessed something that really shouldn't happen while I am house sitting for people who are gone, and should be able to trust me. A GLASS shelf in one of the GLASS WINDOWED cabinets in the kitchen randomly fell down, causing the cabinet door to open, and all of the lovely plates and bowls on that level to shatter all over the counter and floor, losing their lives. We stood, mouths open, in shock. I remember the noise was so loud, and it all happened so fast, I couldn't believe it. All those nice, expensive Williams Sonoma dishes, shattered into tiny pieces all over their kitchen. I started to cry. Jason asked me why I was crying, and I think I blurted out something like, "I am so fucked! They will never trust me again!!" He reassured me that it was an accident and we had nothing to do with it, and if they didn't believe it, then screw them. I agreed, and calmed down. We swept and vacuumed the counter and the floor about three times to make sure every last bit of the glass was cleaned up. I mean, not only for our safety, but the dog's, and their 14 month old baby, who would be returning with them in a few days...

Jason and I were able to salvage a couple of small plates that hadn't broken in their fall, and we tried to speculate why it all happened in the first place. We tried putting the glass shelf back into the cabinet (amazingly it didn't break) to no avail. It wouldn't go back in, so we set it on the counter. Also to our surprise, the glass window of the cabinet did not break, so we were relieved for that. But I had no idea what to tell these people who trusted me with their house, that the most random, unexpected thing happened while they were gone, and I had nothing to do with it.

Meanwhile, Riley was laying outside on the porch, in the 80 degree heat, which is not good for her, so we tried to get her to come inside. She was not about to do it. It took us about 10 minutes to get her to come in, but she wouldn't go near the entry way, because that's where she was when the ordeal started. I had to move her bed and water into the living room, because we had to leave soon to run some errands, and she wouldn't have stayed in the house otherwise. Later that evening, she relaxed and got over the trauma, thankfully.

I waited a day or two to tell them what happened. The guy texted me, checking in to see how the dog was, so I figured I had better text him back right then with the details. In the longest text I have ever written I explained and apologized profusely, hoping they wouldn't want me to pay for it all...I waited for the longest two minutes ever to hear back from him. He said, "Are you kidding me? I don't believe this, we are holding you responsible for ALL damages, how can we trust you again?!" Ha, nah, I'm just kidding with you all, he actually said: "Don't worry about it, we have had problems with the cabinets before, and the shelves have fallen out about three other times, and we have had to replace dishes before." Oh my God. First of all, I was thinking, thank the Universe for that, and second, I was thinking, wow, this has happened so many times I would think they would have replaced the shelves by now. Either way, I was so relieved that it wasn't my fault.

When I picked this husband and wife up from the airport, the wife said she was already looking for an excuse to buy new dishes, so she thought this was perfect! Can you believe that? And to think, I cried for no reason over this. Wait, I cry for no reason over lots of things...oh well. *Faints*

--This post is dedicated to all the plates and bowls who lost their lives in the battle of Cabinets and Shelves 2010. Lest we forget their bravery for having stayed in the cabinet for as long as they did, knowing the shelf wanted to make sure they never saw the light of day again. May they rest in peace, in the San Fernando Valley land fill.