Tuesday, March 25, 2008

That's Not Gonna Work

Hey, kids! So I’ve got a few things to say.

First off, what’s the deal with all the news programs doing exposes on the "cheating epidemic?" Just because a couple of politicians (AHEM* sleazebags, kinda redundant, I know), doesn’t mean everybody is. That’s not to say that there aren’t various fucktards who can’t be monogomous to save their souls (what souls?!). There are. There always have been. Many a douchebag have gotten greedy and fucked around on some unsuspecting somebody (male or female) with some other somebody (male or female). That shit happens. But without those cocknozzles (t.m.), good guys like me (Awww...) wouldn’t stand out like the sore thumbs we are (and kinda look like, I had to go there). So hooray for me, I guess. But if getting cheated on makes a girl hyper-suspicious of me, that kinda blows. I guess there’s a trade-off. Moral of the story: Keep it in ya pants, Safety Dance. I apologize for that. But seriously, you rhyme something else with pants!

Secondly, Fancy Feast cat food has come out with a line of gourmet inspired meals. Now, they do realize that they’re making gourmet foods for animals that lick themselves ritually. My idea would be to have a line of food that tastes like cat’s body parts. You know, leg, paw-flavored, or genital flavored (opposite your cat’s, if they’re lonely, or the their own). It’s my idea. Screw you.

Can I just say that I love The Moment Of Truth? I can, and I did.

Amanda has just informed me that there are now, on the planet Earth, in the United States of America: Pillow-Fighting leagues. That’s right. You score points based on technique. Now first off, pillow fights used be sexy. Thanks for killing that. I mean, you score points in basketball, and it’s decidedly unsexy. Second of all, if you can’t get seriously injured, it’s not a sport. What’s the worst that could happen? A feather sneaks out and pokes you in the eye. Well, actually, that sounds pretty cool. But still, this is retarded (and not in an Oscar-nominatedRain ManI Am SamForrest Gump, or Sling Blade sorta way).

So, the reality show I worked on premiered 2 weeks ago, and guess whose name’s not in the credits? It’s me! Seriously, that fucking blows your dead great-uncle Louis. I woke up at 3am for that. Fucknuts. I may be on next weeks episode though so check it out if you’re not busy getting laid (’cause nothing should interfere with that). Sunday 9pm TLC. That’s all the plug that they get.

That’s what I’ve got for now. Peace, youse guys. :-P Pbbbbbbbbth!!!

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

"I. Am. Job."

Hey, kids! So if you haven't heard, we can officially celebrate. I am employed. I got a job at FotoKem in Burbank. They process film dailies for most of the film and TV shows that you see. Every now and again you can see the FotoKem logo at the end of a film or show's credits. So they're legit. They ain't goin' anywhere. And more importantly, I ain't goin' to have to move back home! It's an awesome feeling.

And they're starting me out a pretty solid starting rate, and actually more than what they had originally offered. I didn't have to negotiate. I was pleasantly surprised.

But I know what you're thinking. Mo' money, mo' problems. This is somewhat true. I don't know what shift I'll be working yet, though it's most likely some sort of swing shift (afternoon into evenings). Hopefully it won't be graveyards, but that is possible. Luckily, I'll have weekends off. And technically, I've never actually worked full-time, 40 hours a week. So that's gonna be an adjustment. But it's better than adjusting to eating soup hobo-style and living in a cardboard box. I'm pretty sure anyway.

Now, there may be some of you back in San Diego who were hoping that I'd go broke and move back home because you'd feel superior or you'll have a commiserater or you're secretly in love with me, and to those of you: I am sorry. It's just not meant to be. :-C

But to those of you who true fans of yours truly, I think that this is gonna be good. I'm still gonna be looking for "the opportunity of a lifetime" because this job isn't what I want to do ultimately. And I'm also going to continue to make films on my off-hours. I just don't have to take anything and be glad about it anymore. And who knows who I'll meet and what friends I'll make. It's exciting to a degree.

Another good thing is I can start to look for softball leagues, once my schedule is in place. I need to get my glove on and run around the bases again. It's been way too long. I miss you, babe. Yes, my glove is a babe, despite having a man's name on her (Chris Sabo).

One last bonus, now that I'm of the employed status, "Hello, ladies..."

I would be remiss if I didn't tell you about my drug test experience. First off, drug tests are bizarre. Period. "Here. Go pee in this cup." Weird... When I went for this drug test, I followed the nurse (a guy, or murse) back into the office, where I assumed he'd hand me the cup, point me to the bathroom, and say, "Have at it (and don't flush)." But instead, he leads me into a room and hands me a gown as he tells me that the company I'm working for has a "rather extensive drug policy." So I'm thinking I'm gonna have to piss in front of this guy. "I'm not in the NFL," I thought. Thankfully, I did not. I put on the gown, he came back in the room, gave me the cup, pointed me to the bathroom, and said "Have at it (and don't flush)."

But it doesn't go uneventfully. It never does with me. As I walk out of the room, I notice that the bathroom's right across from me. But not only that, 5 feet to my right, is a waiting room for another office, only separated from the office I'm in by an all glass, see-thru door. I'm already grabbing the back of my gown, keeping the pre-show to a minimal. I go in the bathroom, do my thing (I really had to go), and start to head back to the little office where my clothes are. Now between making sure not to spill the cup and turning the door handles, I've got no free hand to close up my gown. So for a few fleeting moments, the folks in the adjacent waiting room got to see the color of my underwear and whether or not I've got that hot, celebrity, full-body tan (I do not). Oh well, I guess.

So there you have it, kids. I's gots a J.O.B.. It's right across the street from The Tonight Show set and 2-5 blocks away from Disney and Warner Bros. Studios. So it's like I'm there. Far as you know.

Special Thanks to Eugene again, for passing along my resume to the right peeps. He's grade-A, kids, and ladies...

And in a last bit 'o news, the reality show I worked on, I Can Make You Thin: With Paul McKenna premiers on March 16th at 9pm and then airs every Sunday night at 9pm for the next 5 weeks. If you need to drop a few lbs (pronounced "lubs"), it might help. I don't know. I never met the guy. Look for my name in the credits under, "Production Assistants."

Thanks for playing along, kids! :-P Pbbbbbbbbbbbbth!!!