I See Monsters

Be a Good Girl, You've Got to Try a Little Harder

Hi! Hi! Hi there! Hello!

So, yeah. It's been a long time since I've posted. At one point, it got so bad that two separate people asked me "Are you ever going to blog again?" I have to admit, my answer at the time was "I don't know." And I meant it. I log into Typepad all the time to write for Zap2it, and every time I logged in this page would mock me. "You have nothing to say," it scoffed, "and besides, you can't even post those pictures you promised about your trip across country! You suck!" Unfortunately, I sort of agreed. I did suck. I couldn't come up with anything clever to say and I couldn't even post something non-clever about my road trip because I never got around to figuring out how to download the pictures from my camera on the new computer I'd been using. If I couldn't do it right, I didn't want to do it at all.

Well, the other day I was reading a magazine article about the pursuit of perfection being a self-defeating prophecy, and it struck me. I don't have to be perfect, or clever, or funny, or on top of it. If I want to write I am going to write. So, therefore, I bring you this very non-perfect (unperfect? no - imperfect!) entry, bullet point style.

• My Nashville move is a done deal! I got there on Easter Sunday and have been spending the past month looking for a job, eating at delicious local restaurants, bothering Nea and Pablo, and playing Zuma. Nashville is a great place and I feel like it could be a good home for me. Now, I just need a darn job. If anyone knows someone who's looking in that area, give me a heads up! I need all the help I can get.
• Pablo and I went to an Okkervil River concert a few weeks ago and it was freaking amazing. At one point, they transitioned right from a killer version of "John Allyn Smith Sails" to an intense crowd singalong of "For Real," and I almost died of pure sonic pleasure. I know 99% of you don't know what I'm talking about, but for that 1% of you who does I just sort of blew your mind, didn't I? You're welcome.
• Right now I am in Florida (details to follow) and McDonald's is waging a hilarious campaign against Chick-Fil-A around here. They have all of these billboards promoting their "Southern style" chicken sandwiches and biscuits, with slogans like "All White Meat, All Week" and "Southern hospitality seven days a week." It's hilarious. (For those of you who aren't familiar with Chick-Fil-A, they are closed on Sundays.) Perhaps I find it so amusing because I am obsessed with Chick-Fil-A now that I live within driving distance of one again. Mmm...delicious. McDonald's, you suck, especially because the other day I was having a rough day (because I totally dented my car hard-core, because I'm an idiot) and I wanted one of your delicious ice cream cones. Did you have ice cream cones? Nooooo. Jerks. Fix your damn ice cream machine!
• I am in Florida because...drum roll please...I am going on a 16 day Transatlantic cruise! My mother has been booked to go on this cruise with some friends for a while, but the person she was planning to room with fell ill a few weeks ago and had to drop out so I got put in her place! Eeeeee! We leave Saturday from Miami and then travel to two places in the Canary Islands, Morocco, two places in Spain, Cannes, and Florence, ending in Rome. How awesome is this? Yes, I owe my mother far too much money now, but this was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. I'm a bit concerned about the first seven days at sea (seven!) but I figure I can always drink if I start to get stir crazy. Ah, $6 daiquiris. I have a feeling my bar bill is going to be quite steep at the end of the journey. I promise to take lots of pictures and actually figure out how to get them off of my camera and onto this site.

Well, that's about it. I apologize for not posting comments on any of your sites - I haven't opened my Google Reader once in Nashville! I'm sort of afraid of it now. My goal when I return - to catch up on what all of you are doing. See you in three weeks!

Watch Me Unravel, I'll Soon Be Naked

Tonight is my company's holiday party.  To say I'm excited about the party would be a bit of an exaggeration.  In fact, it would be an outright lie as I am planning on sneaking out of there at the first opportunity.  I don't much care for my job.  I don't much care for the people I work with at my job, save a few.  Why should I torture myself by socializing with people I have nothing in common with?  The only thing keeping me going is the rumor that the In N Out truck is going to be there.  I like burgers.  More than people, sometimes.

This stupid party that I don't want to go to also has something else working against it: it's outside.  It's cold in L.A. at night!  Thus, I needed to go to the mall last night to get a cardigan to go with the dress I was planning to wear.  Do you think I could find a decent button-up sweater with clean lines ANYWHERE last night?  No.  What happened to the days when twin sets were all you could find, like the fashion world wanted to turn everyone into the perfect 50's housewife?  I found that while I don't like the twin set, a button down, streamlined sweater works really nicely and is really versatile.  All of mine are ragged to the point Goodwill won't even want them, though, and now this sweater nirvana is nowhere to be found!  Now, every sweater has a seam right below the bosom area, below which the buttons stop and the sweater flows like a baby doll dress or something.  (Example.)  Designers, listen.  This style is not flattering on me.  It makes me look pregnant, like big as a house pregnant.  What ever happened to structure?  Gah.

[Sidebar: Why is it that whenever you just want to be left alone all of the people in those obnoxious mall kiosks decide that's the time to approach you?  No, I do not want a massage.  No, I do not want to hear about your revolutionary hair straightener.  No, I do not want a new phone.  LEAVE ME ALONE!]

Needless to say, I left the mall empty handed.  Instead of the cute dress I'm wearing the same pants I wore to work on Monday and a ratty sweater that looks like I pulled it off my floor. 

It's festive, if you're going to a party in hell.

All They Ever Do Is Talk

This post is about my job.  Specifically, how apathetic I am about my job.

There is some seriously crazy shit going down here today.  Rumors are flying, people are whispering behind closed doors with conspiratorial glee.  Me?  I absolutely don't care.  Whatever happens doesn't affect me.  Leave me alone.  The politics of Hollywood tire me, and I realized long ago that I wasn't meant to play this game. 

What does affect me is our Christmas gift, which we got today.  I guess the theme in Hollywood this year is green, and our thoughtful present of a hybrid solar universal charger (Packaged in an earth-friendly canvas tote, barely big enough to use as a grocery bag for a loaf of bread!) (Wait, people in Hollywood don't eat, this bag is perfect!  I can totally fit a bottle of Smart Water and a can of chicken broth in there!  Score!)  sends the perfect message: 

Be earth-friendly, but never EVER lose power on your Blackberry.

Can't You Smell That Smell?

My boss has a fish tank.  A beautiful, doted-upon saltwater fish tank full of different corals, two clams, a clown fish and a fire shrimp.  The boss is a bit obsessed with it, and by extension it has become a big part of my work life.

At first, it was only annoying when I had to do stupid things like remove and kill a rogue crab my boss was too wimpy to deal with, or return a temperamental coral banded shrimp to the fish store when it started attacking everything else in the tank.  (Appropriately, the shrimp was named Phil Spector.  The shrimp, unlike the man, did not get the benefit of a mistrial or even a trial before being convicted of his crimes.)

Now, something more nefarious has begun.  The boss got a new kind of fish food.  It needs to be stored in the freezer, and it's so potent that everything else in the freezer or fridge smells like rotting fish now.  I grab a Diet Coke, pop it open and take a sip?  Fish Coke.  I twist off the cap of a refreshing Pellegrino?  Shrimp water.  With rank, fishy fizz! 

It's gotten so bad that I have to pour every single refrigerated drink into a cup first, and MAN do I hate wasting cups.  Mostly, I hate that even though I pour them into cups my HANDS still smell like fish because the scent is so strong that grabbing the drinks just to pour them into a cup means complete fish contamination.  Yuck.

The boss promised that once this batch is done she isn't going to buy that brand of food again.  The problem is, the fridge is going to smell like fish forever.  I don't think my Lean Cuisines can handle it.   They're barely edible as it is!

I suppose along with "murderous shrimp wrangler" I'll have to add "fridge decontaminator" to the special skills section of my resume.

Near, Far, Wherever You Are

They've been remodeling my office building for months.  Today they unveiled the final product.  It's beautiful and my favorite part are the interesting movie and production stills all up and down the halls, I suppose to prove to everyone that we do, in fact, make movies.  In case anyone was confused.  There's a killer shot from Ferris Bueller's Day Off that I am planning on stealing someday. 

What do I get in front of my office?

Now, I'm not going to lie and say I hate the movie Titanic.  I actually enjoyed it for the most part.  But having to see this particular shot every time I come and go, while my colleagues get awesome things like Marlon Brando in The Godfather and Harrison Ford in Indiana Jones?  Well, color me a bit jealous.

This is what I see from my actual chair.  James freaking Cameron.  All day long.   I didn't even know that was James Cameron until someone in my department corrected me when I called him "some crew guy."   Ha!  You can tell I'm really cut out for the movie business, huh?

I Say Fuck Authority

To say that I am officially sick of fucking Hollywood and the fucking entertainment business would be putting it mildly.  This is what happened to me today to cement the fact that I need to fucking get out of here.

I work for a big movie studio.  The writers are striking.  My boss laments having to pay the writers who are turning drafts in before the strike because we shouldn't be "funding their strike."  To which I say, "Well, we have to pay them because it is in their contract and they did the work."  When she protests I say, "I honestly don't want to get in a conversation about the big evil corporations vs. the union.  It won't be pretty."

Then she goes on a ten minute rant about how it's ridiculous the writers are even striking, because the writers aren't even important.  I interject that they are paid the least amount of money, to which she says it's only what they deserve because they don't put asses in seats.  Actors and directors do. 

Which is true.  But so, so fucking sad.  Her whole rant was basically all about how writers aren't even necessary in Hollywood.  And she means it.  I suppose from now on we should just get directors and actors to write their own scripts and see how that goes.  I'm sure the movies will be fantastic!  Writers are just monkeys with typewriters!

This strike is obviously much more complicated than I can ever understand, but I do know that writers are important.  Great writers are so, so important.

It makes me want to cry.  And see an independent movie to stick it to the man. Lars and the Real Girl*, anyone? 

*Yes, I know it is distributed by MGM.  Close enough.  My love for the Gosling sometimes messes with my scruples.

A Day in the Life

My job is pretty easy.  There rarely comes a time when I am presented with something that flummoxes me.  Today, that day has come.  Below is a transcript of a phone call I was just on the baffling other end of:

Me: Hi, this is Carrie from [Big Motion Picture Studio].  How are you?
Anonymous Agent's Assistant (AAA):  Good, thanks.  You?
Me:  I'm good.  So I'm doing some paperwork for [writer name redacted] and I was wondering if he uses a loanout.  Do you have that info?
AAA: Hmm...I'm not sure.  Can you shoot me an e-mail and I'll look into it?
Me:  Sure, what is it?
AAA (interrupting): Wait, I think I have it right here.  Let me check.
(ringing noise in background)
AAA: Oh, I have to jump.  Okay?  Bye.
Me:  ...?

So, seriously.  No "I'll call you right back."  No "here's that e-mail address."  Nothing.  The bitch just hung up on me!  I understand something urgent might have just come up but I'm sure you had time to give me a proper end to the phone call.  Worst of all, I can't do my job until I get the information from this yahoo and I don't quite know how to proceed from here.  Call him back?  Wait for him to call me back?  Make up a random e-mail and send the information to that?

AAA?  Kind of a tool.  I suppose I should be less surprised at that by now.

WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS?

Linkin Park is the new hold music at work.

Fuck you, Michael Bay.

Where Will You Crawl?

There is a huge spider in my office.

I don't know where it is because when I went to go smoosh the bastard, it ran behind my desk.

It's freaking me out.  I can't get any work done.  I feel like there are bugs on me.

This is how people go crazy, I think.

I need a drink.

Baby, Hold On To Me

Since I started working at Big Motion Picture Studio I've become a bit obsessed with our hold music.  I spend a lot of time on hold with various other people in our department, so I get the chance to study it intimately.  Sometimes, this is a good thing, like the month that Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch's "Good Vibrations" and Foreigner's "Hot Blooded" were the two featured songs.  Sometimes, this is very bad, like the month when the score of Babel was the featured tune.  Talk about music to slit your wrists to, that Babel score.

Here are a few of the tunes I can remember, in chronological order:

• The aforementioned Babel score:  This was the first thing featured when I started working here, and I was pretty sure I was going to go crazy.  I didn't know at the time that they changed the songs frequently.  Thank God for that.
• "I Need to Wake Up" by Melissa Etheridge:  On Oscar night, I could sing along to every word.  I've never heard this song outside of our hold music.  The first time you hear the song?  Not so bad.  The 150th?  Terrible.
• "Hurdy Gurdy Man" by Donovan:  The best thing to come out of the Hurdy Gurdy Era was my boss, who made up a whole scheme where she was going to continue singing the song on a conference call in an attempt to hear what the other people on the call would be saying about her while she was gone, because of course, lured by her beautiful rendition of the song, they would still believe they were on hold.  Had this worked, I think she would have immediately been promoted to President and CEO.
• "Good Vibrations" by Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch:  My favorite so far.  Seriously, they could keep this as the hold tune forever and I would be a happy woman.  "Donnie D's on the back up, drug free, so put the crack up!"  Awesome.  This song caused much debate because none of us could actually figure out why it was featured.  Was it because Mark Wahlberg was in Shooter?  That seemed odd.  For weeks, we giggled every time it came on and wondered what would happen if Mark Wahlberg decided to give an executive here a call and actually place it himself.  Would he have a Ari Gold-level meltdown?  I would hope so, for my own amusement.  Finally, I saw Blades of Glory and realized it is on the soundtrack.  I liked my Shooter theory better.
• "Hot Blooded" by Foreigner:  I loved the wonder of the Good Vibrations/Hot Blooded Era.  When you got put on hold, you never knew which song you would get.  It was like a game where no one loses.
• Disturbia soundtrack:  Now playing, on a phone near you.  This is a mixed bag.  Some of the songs are great, and I get excited when they come on ("Always Love" by Nada Surf and "Dream" by Priscilla Ahn).   Some of the songs are downright terrible.  They are so terrible I am not even going to take the time to look up which ones they are.  Just trust me.  (Side note: the movie Disturbia is surprisingly not terrible, and the songs make much more sense in context.  I don't remember being bothered by the soundtrack once during the film, just when it is screaming into my ear at 9am in the morning before I've had my daily Diet Coke.)

I wonder what the next era will be?  I have to admit, I wouldn't mind going back to the halcyon days of "Good Vibrations."  There's nothing like jamming to a little bit of cheesy white boy rap to lighten up your day.