8.08.2013

I'm baaaaaack, babies!

Ooooh, dat feels good. My ass-groove in the couch that is Skip-raid is right as I left it. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, pimping out Mad Men reviews to you like you all had some kind of Mad Men weekly review addiction that prevented you from living a normal life. Well, I'm back to writing normal stuff (as IF my obsession with Pete Campbell last season was normal. I'm covered in my own side-eyes right now). Let me give you a quick summation of what the hell has been happening for me to drop you like a hot bag of trash (that's unfair - we're all just lukewarm bags of donation clothes).

- I moved to MURRRRRICA. WHIP OUT YOUR WAVING FLAGS AND SCREECHING EAGLES AND LOPSIDED BREAST IMPLANTS!!!! That's correct, I finally moved to the land of sweet nectar (Mountain Dew Kickstart), salty nuggets of truth (Chile Limon Doritos), and hot greasy pride (In-n-Out). It's only temporary though because I need to go back to Canada. I'm, how you say, not here legally, so eventually I will need to go back to Poutineville before La Migra catches my border-jumping ass and sends me back to Canada's version of Uncle Sam (Monsieur Jean? Oncle Samuel?)

- I'm here for acting/improv classes. HERE'S AN ALEVE EXTRA STRENGTH FOR YOUR EXTRA STRENGTH EYEROLL. I know, I never thought my life would take such a tragic turn, but here we are! Some of you (5 out of the 10 regulars) know that I do comedy stuff in Canada, but it was always a dream of mine to train with UCB (which, up until like 3 days before I left, my friend Abbey thought was University of California at Berkeley. Lols. I could barely get into University of Phoenix). But it's great and I'm learning to be a better clown and bring lols to the yard.

- I have a car now. BEEP BEEP I'M A MOTORIST. I've gotten fairly good at driving which, honest to god, was literally the only thing I used to be total garbage at. I could do most things with a modicum of skill, but driving was just like, hands in the air, "I give up". So I'm driving myself around and talking to myself like Morgan Freeman in Driving Miss Daisy (I also play the Miss Daisy part).

- Brief interjection: I'm writing this from a Starbucks at Sunset and La Brea (that sounded so The Californians. WHAAAAAAARYOO DOING HURRRR?) and there is a salesman on his phone right beside me to my left. He's dressed very niceley and he's got his laptop out and some notes. He's on his phone and he's conducting business meetings from Starbucks. Sorry, did I say business meetings? I meant cold calling people. But it's very clear we're in a Starbucks; you can hear the espresso grinder, they're fucking blasting the Norah Jones, there's a constant voice calling out drinks. Guy, no one believes you're in an office when your client on the other end needs to plug her one ear to hear over the sound of "GRANDE AMERICANO ONE PUMP VANILLA FOR KAITREESHA! VENTI GREEN TEA LATTE HALF WHIP ONE SWEETENER FOR CARL!" Also, the Norah Jones just switched to Lady Antebellum or some shit and one of the employees just came to our area and yelled "SIR YOU NEED A KEY FOR THE MENSROOM". I'm dying.

- How did I get to California? I drove. Yes, I drove from Canada to California. I'm a car commercial. We played innofensive indie pop the whole way too and most of the trip I had my arm out the window doing that arm-surfing-a-wave-of-wind-in-slow-motion thing. NO! But I did drive with my boyfriend and we camped the whole way here. I will be writing about that in another post. Why? Because you get a lot of material when you spend a day in the shithole that is Kansas state (NOT EVEN SORRY).

So that's that! Expect me to short-out the servers at Blogger because I'm about to be posting more than I ever have.

1 comment:

alex davey said...

I love you, I am so proud of you, keep writing and "SIR YOU NEED A KEY FOR THE MENSROOM" made me laugh out loud at work.

Keep twerkin'.