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.

The Wall O' Products

Jason and I moved into our apartment first. Then Neil moved in a month later. So while moving into our modest apartment, we knew that we had too much crap and that we needed to either get rid of a lot of it, or figure out how to organize it in such a way that it wouldn't be IN the way.

One day, we decided since we have so many different kinds of toiletries, like hair stuff, toothpaste, lotion, pain pills, oh who am I kidding, it's mainly hair stuff (Jason and I both have long hair), that we would buy one of those over-the-door shoe hangers (see pic) and store things in it. Sheer Genius right? I know, it's great, but I never realized how MUCH we really do have.

Last October, we threw a party and had about 30 of our nearest and dearest friends over. Yes, amazingly enough, everyone was able to fit into our little apartment! Why? Because we ORGANIZE shit! We thought that was pretty sweet. There is lots of room to hang out and sing karaoke, drink, mingle; we have two bathrooms, so no one really had to wait, and Neil's bathroom has like, nothing in it, and ours, well there are lots of things in it, but they are all neatly put away on the door.

I guess we got used to just having everything there on the door, and we didn't really think anyone would notice it all, and how heavy it is, and how much space it probably still takes up. The party was great, we all had fun, and almost everyone was gone at about 3am. My old roommate, Jaclyn, was at the party that night, and she is known for leaving notes for people. She would buy a ton of sticky notes, and post them all over the apartment to remind us of things, or even just to say hi, or that she was pissed about something. She is also known for writing notes on dry erase boards if there happens to be any near her. We have one on the fridge. So when the night was winding down, Jason went to the fridge to get some water and noticed a note left by Jaclyn on the dry erase board:

"Thank you guys so much for having me over, I had a blast! P.S--I LOVE the 'Wall O' Products' in your bathroom! It looks like a fucking Walgreen's!!" xoxo Jackay"

Yes, it was a hilarious note, and we laughed, but then I realized, wow, there really is a lot of shit on that bathroom door, and it DOES look like a fucking Walgreen's!! It looks like we could sell shit from our bathroom and old folks, or people with long, luscious hair, could take their pick from the products on this wall, and be content that they have everything they need for their hair, teeth, or back/headaches!

Anyway, I just thought it was funny. Probably no big deal to anyone else, and you're probably thinking, wow Sarah, an uneventful story indeed. Well, I don't care, so fuck you :)

The Pyramid Scheme. Part II.

Update on my pyramid scheme troubles...

How long has it been since I emailed the pyramid scheme girl? 5 days. And how long did it take her to get back to me? 5 days. Does anyone know why? Probably because she needs to get her shit together and learn how to be a grown up. Anyway, I wanted to post the email she sent to me. Not only because I laughed at it, but also because of how much it angered me. These people have no shame I tell ya.

By the way, I did tell her that I got the Disneyland Hong Kong job, hahaha. So...here you go:

"Dear Sarah,
Thank you for notifying me. That sounds like an amazing opportunity!! I wouldn't expect you not to take it. :)
It's definitely a shame for me, since you were still my first pick in assistants, but I wish you the best of luck on your endeavors and I hope we can still stay in touch.
As a side note, I just wanted to give you my website in case you were still interested in any of the makeup and skin care I can provide. The Artistry essentials pack is the face wash we were discussing during our meeting, in case you wanted to try it out after your experimental skin care system ran out.
Amway.com/adrianagustavson
(If you create a customer account which only requires your name, address and email, I can give you a good discount on the Artistry)
Anyway, I hope you have a very safe trip! When are you leaving?"

Good Lord, all these people want to do is sell shit...Really, like I would buy something from her after she lied to me, and if I was going to be in China, what would be the point of me buying something from her?? Well, let's hope I do well at the Disney Auditions this week. Good day to you all.

A Strange Moment in Time

It always seems that when you least expect it, a very strange situation will present itself. Here's one that happened to me about a month ago...

I was working on an infomercial for a free trial for an acne product. I have (or had) bad acne, and it's been plaguing me for years, like since I was 11. So I tried this product called Tria Beauty System, and amazingly enough, it actually started working. I know I sound like an advertisement, but it was nice to know that I could go on camera and be shot in HD mind you, feeling confident not lying about the product. Anyway, this part really has nothing to do with the real reason I am writing this, so whatever.

My boyfriend, Jason, being the kind-hearted fellow he is, would always join me in Orange County for my shoots, so we could go out to eat or make a day trip to Disneyland, since we have our annual passes and whatnot. That particular day, we decided to go to Joe's Crab Shack, since we have never been. It was late afternoon on a weekday, and we found the restaurant to be practically deserted. We walked in, and the staff was very accommodating, and the whole atmosphere was pleasant. We sat down, ordered our drinks, and I realized I had to pee, and I mean, I REALLY had to pee. What some people may not know about me is, I have this problem. It's really hard for me to use public restrooms. Not because of germs, although I am quite the germ-a-phobe, but it's because my body doesn't like it when other people may be able to hear me going. I have no idea why this is so, but I have tried to overcome it many times. I almost got over it while travelling cross-country with my ex, being as he was a truck driver, and the only places we could pee or numero dos, were public restrooms...but as usual, I digress...Either way, in my own head, I don't care if anyone hears me peeing or pooping, but my body just won't let me go too easily if someone else is in the bathroom, and it's like, quiet enough for them to hear. If it's a large room, and there are lots of other people, I am OK. But anyway, the Joe's Crab Shack bathroom is quite small, only a couple stalls.

So I left Jason for what was supposed to be a few moments, and went to the restroom. I opened the door, and was just about to go into a stall, when from the handicapped stall, I heard a woman's voice, basically crying out, "Oh my God, please, help me!". Now, I am the kind of person that wants to help anyone I can, so I go over to the door, thinking that there is something very wrong, preparing myself for what I am about to see. I said, "Ma'am, are you all right? What can I do for you? Can I get someone to help you?". She said, "No, please just help me, I..Oh God, please!". Now I am just scared. But as she was speaking to me, I noticed that her speech was a little slurred, and so I wasn't sure what to make of this. Suddenly, out of fucking nowhere, she opens the door, and I shit you not, pants down around her ankles, she says, with TEARS running down her face, garbled speech and all, "Please! I need help with my tampon, please, I can't...Oh God, I can't..". I can't even imagine the look of horror that was upon my face. I really didn't even understand what she was trying to ask me to do. First of all, there is a rather large woman standing in front of me with her pants down, and I am trying not to catch a glimpse of her area, and I can't understand what she wants, and she is holding a tampon up to my face! I honestly thought she was mentally handicapped, so of course I felt bad for her, but what could I do? Now, the tampon was clean, thank God, and I realized there was no applicator on it, so she couldn't get it in or whatever, oh man this sound so gross I know...So I said, "I'm sorry, I really don't know what I can do for, I...I...can go get you help if you'd like..." and she was still crying as though the world was ending, and she closed the stall again, and blabbed about not having the use of one arm, and I was thinking holy shit, she wanted me to put it in for her? I really didn't know...*Shudder*

All this time, I had to pee, really really bad, and so I went into the other stall thinking maybe since I had to go so bad, it would just come out, but alas, it didn't. So I washed my hands, because I just felt dirty anyway. Meanwhile, the woman seemed to be getting louder and louder, and I was just becoming more traumatized. I told her I would bring help.

I walked out, and back across the restaurant over to Jason. I had the weirdest look on my face I'm sure. Jason was like, "What's wrong?" and I was like, "I couldn't go, there is a very strange woman in there...". So Jason and I decided that I should tell the manager. I went over to the manager and a hostess and said, "I'm sorry, but I think there is a woman in the restroom that needs help. She said she needed help with a tampon or something...I know it sounds terrible, but I don't know if she's handicapped or drunk, I am not sure, so yeah...". You can imagine my surprise when they both looked at me as if it was actually normal. They said they knew who I was talking about! She was obviously a regular. The hostess had to go in and get her out, and boy did I feel sorry for the hostess...It turned out that tampon lady was just really really drunk, and trashy I suppose, and they notified the guy who was there with her, he was sitting at the bar, and he seemed not to really care one way or the other. I saw her come out of the bathroom crying loudly, and she went back in again, and then came out, and when I looked again, thankfully, they were gone. How embarrassing for them, and me...*Shudder*. So I finally had the chance to go pee.

Needless to say, we had an excellent meal, and I had an empty bladder so all was well. But my God, that was one of the weirdest things that I have ever seen, and I pray that I will never have to go through something like it again. A word of advice ladies: If you're going to go out, and you're going to be drunk, whilst your aunt Flo is visiting, AND you can only use ONE ARM, for God's sake, wear a fucking pad. *Shudder*

The Pyramid Scheme.

Do you know how much I hate pyramid schemes? I despise them. That's how much I hate them. I think that anyone who becomes involved in one is naive, and easily brainwashed. No, you're not entrepreneurial, you're just being fooled. I have experienced a few of these attempts to get me to join the dark side, and I have yet to falter. Mainly because I don't have the $399 star-up fee, but also because I am not THAT motivated. Why you ask? I don't feel like trying to drag my all friends or recent aquaintances into a new get-rich-quick-scheme. I don't want to make everyone I know hate me because I won't stop emailing and texting them about my exciting opportunity. I am normally a motivated person, and I try to be productive, but selling whatever product these "mentors" are trying to dupe people into buying, well that's not something I call entrepreneurial...

Take yesterday for example: I had a job interview. Yes, me, the girl who has been trying for almost a year to find a decent job. I went on Craiglist the other day and started sending out resumes, like I usually do. So I get an email response back from one of them, they were in need of an assistant. I figured, awesome, I am great at being an assistant, I did it for almost 4 years at my previous job; I got this; I can do this...

How wrong I was. Where shall I start? Ok, first of all, when I received the email, it said to confirm by text. So texted her, and said I could make it. Mind you, the meeting was to take place at a Starbucks...Anytime someone you have never met wants you to meet them at a Starbucks for an interview, just say no. Everytime that I have said yes to it, I meet brainwashed people, or just plain weirdos. And I'm not the only one, I know a couple other people who have had the same experiences. Nothing against Starbucks, I love them, it just seems like people who have no life decide they need to meet there on a regular basis. But I digress...After texting her, I didn't hear back from her, so the next day, I had basically forgotten about the whole thing. It wasn't until about an hour and 10 minutes before our meeting that she finally texted me back! So of course I think to myself, I can't back out of this, I've got to do it. So I rushed to get ready, I mean, in 20 minutes I had taken a shower, dried my hair, actually picked out something to wear, and even managed to get a little makeup on. I never ever get ready that fast, really, it's almost impossible. So then I was trying to print my resume with not much time to spare, and my God damned printer was not working! I finally got it to print, got my shit together, and ran out the door. Traffic was not bad, so I got there about 10 mintues early. Whew! Or so I thought...I called her. Just so I could ask where she was sitting so I would know who to go up to. She says, "Oh sorry, I'm not there yet, but I am leaving and will be there soon". So I wait. And wait. She shows up like 10 minutes late, and proceeds to tell me she's late for almost EVERYTHING. Red flag. I got a good look at her, and she's practically a kid. Maybe 24 at the oldest. But I doubt it. Another red flag. We go inside and she starts to try to ask me questions and immediately I can tell she doesn't know what the hell she's doing. Red freakin' flag. She asked about some of my interests at one point, and I told her about my acting and whatnot, and mentioned that I also do makeup on the side. Her face lights up and she says, "Wow, that's great, we at World Wide Dream Makers just came out with a makeup product that you should so try!" Hmmmmm.......And she goes on to tell me about her work with AMWAY products, and how her "mentors" are wonderful people and how I should meet them. Did I say RED FLAG??? At this point, I am just angry. She asked me if I consider myself entrepreneurial, she said she thought that her "mentors" would see what they could do for me. Oh God stop me from grabbing her by the hair and calling her a sneaky bitch...

I kept my composure. Even when she stepped around the real subject, with her "I need an assistant" bullshit. All she really wanted was someone else to rope in so she could make more money. Assistant my ass. In my head I had already started making up excuses as to why I would have to decline. I told her that I would check my schedule and we would go from there. This stupid, gullable kid, who doesn't know shit about shit, was trying to get me involved with what I think is the scum of the Earth. So mad...so very mad. So I left, teeming with frustration as I got into my car. What a waste of time. A wasted hour of my life on crap that makes my blood boil when I hear about it. Great.

So, my plan is to tell her that I went to the Disneyland China auditions, and got in, and I will be living there for the next 9 months. It's not all a lie, I mean, the auditions are next week, and I am going, so just put out the good vibes for me, and maybe I will actually get the gig :)

Me.

Is it sad that I am writing my second blog on the same day, an hour later than my first? Yes. Yes it is. But, I guess I just want to tell people about myself.

As of now, I am 26 years old. And I feel old. I don't go out dancing or go to concerts as often as I used to. I don't do stupid shit for no reason much anymore. Sometimes I will still get the itch to drive around blasting TV themes from my car, videotaping people's reactions, but it rarely actually happens anymore. Have I lost my childish idiocy? Dear God, I hope not!

Next topic: I moved to Los Angeles almost 5 years ago. Holy crap. To me that is a long time. I was 22, penniless, (oh wait, I STILL have no money) and naive. Very naive. I was so scared. I moved into my friend's extra bedroom in Sherman Oaks. They had lived there for a year, and helped my parents to push me to leave the nest. I remember I decided to make the move because my friend, Jerry, who lives at this awesome condo that I moved into, was working at Denny's in Burbank, and helped me get a job there. I asked the manager to give me week to get my "affairs" in order, and then packed what I could fit in my car, and made the 4 hour drive.

I have to say that the friends I moved in with, saved my ass. It was nice already having known Jerry, Corey, and Patty for a few years before we all moved here. They charged me cheap rent, since I was making--get this--$146 a week at Denny's! Oh my, how I made it through coming here with $200 in the bank, and making that pitiful amount, I will never know. But like I said, it made it much easier knowing I had people here to help and give me support. I will talk about my moving adventures in another post...

What else? I act. I sing. I came here because I wanted to flourish in those areas. As far as flourishing goes, well, I don't think I have done too much of that. I have been working toward it as much as possible. I have more of a theatre background, and less film experience so it is, at times, hard to break into doing more films. But I have done a few small ones. As of late, I am unemployed (which I will also talk about later, that's a doozy of a story) so I get to auditon a lot more, thank God. I think I do pretty well with my small film and theatre gigs, but I really need to start making money for doing them. That is my goal before my unemployment runs out...sorry, I am laughing at myself, because I sound like such a loser. But I figure, hell, I am making more money on unemployment checks than I would be at some other shitty job, making minimum wage. I was making very good money at my last job, so I get a decent amount of unemployment. Why not look for more gigs than actual jobs? I need to make something happen in the area that I want to be in for the rest of my life. Now I am not saying that I am not looking for regular jobs, I just haven't heard back from anyone. So I look for a lot more gigs, and I am looking for an agent, since I have the time everyday now. Being unemployed is tough, but I can't let it get the best of me. And believe me, I almost let it do that when it first happened, but I have changed that fear into agression for the most part, and it makes me feel a lot better. I am probably rambling...so tomorrow, I will continue this...

Intro!

So...
Hello all. My name is Sarah Grace and I have no importance in this world, well maybe I do to my family and friends, but I feel that I am just your average chick, trying to survive in Los Angeles. I will never claim to have an exciting life, or act like I have many interesting things to say. I don't even hope that this blog will be noticed by someone famous who likes what I am writing and decides they have to put me in their next movie...although that would be pretty sweet. I can't even say that I am a good writer. I mean, I do all right, but don't expect a bunch of big, fancy words. You CAN expect fantastic grammar and spelling though, because I DO take pride in being somewhat educated. Overall, I want to write about my boring days on this Earth. So in my next blog, you can expect some general information about me, and what I'm about. How's that sound? Not that great? I know! That's the point!