My day in review: Woke up. Thanked God. Wanked off on the computer. Made phone calls. Emails. Yadda yadda. Checked bank accounts. Looked at calenders. Searched for work. Laughed at my credit score. Wanked off some more. Staged an imaginary interview with Jimmy Kimmel in the mirror. Took inventory of my vintage clothing collection. I couldn't figure out why the fuck I had SO many Elizabethan type collars. Guess I was in my Afro-Anglo Saxophone stage. Cornrowed my hair. Sunbathed. Listen to Tribe Called Quest.
Typed some dialogue for my new television pilot. Kept telling myself not to worry, and to keep creating because I will defy the odds, break all precedence and get it produced. How could I not? I have all the ingredients: I'm driven, youngish, have a knack for storytelling and enjoy the television. Also, I've got some good dick karma in the world. So surely some executive will bend to my favor, right?
Maybe. Maybe not. Most likely Not. Not. No. No. NO. HELL NO. FUCK NO KIDDO.
Then the voices came. You can't do it. NO. Loser. NO. PUNK. Chump. Victim. Tool.
(Oh I could go on and on.)
By 4pm I was in full meltdown mode.
I couldn't call white Oprah (that's my therapists nickname) because I can't afford to see her. Didn't want to explain my batty shit to a friend. So I said fuck it. If I can't kill the Negative Nelly in my head. I'm gonna kill something!
So I waged a war on the fruit flies in my kitchen. First I took a swig of Tito's vodka. Because all warriors do that before battle. I lit a bundle of sage and doused the walls, and kitchen counter with ammonia.
A few hours later when I came to, I sent out message on twitter. After some smarty pants buddies shared with me a non lethal remedy (honestly, vodka + sage + ammonia will land you only the kitchen floor--not the fruit flies) I filled a bowl with cider vinegar and dish soap.
And wouldn't you know it...within 2 minutes the mother fuckers were chilling on the ledge of the bowl, like it was some goddamned pool. Only one or 2 jumped in and drowned. The rest were just hanging out. I kept yelling "Don't you motherfuckers give up?! I'm trying to destroy youse!" Their response? They just kept hanging.
I was desperate for normalcy, so I decided to go to class tonight. Yeah, acting class. Where people are "normal". Did I mention I live in Los Angeles?
But I'm an actor, and I'm proud to be one. It's a noble profession-- but it ain't easy so I like to make sure my chops are polished. Cuz when they do that remake of Howard The Duck 3D I want to be front and center. *And yes I will play the Holly Robinson Peet role.
I'm so glad I went. Class was great. It was a release. I communed with other actors in class and by watching them, it gave me perspective. That I ain't in this to retire by 40. I'm not here to be some skeezer on the cover of some fuck magazine. I'm here for the long haul. I plan to be an old working motherfucker in this game. When my vag is dried up, and I'm bald as a eagle, I'm still gonna be acting. Still writing. And still hurling grenades at any body who tells me NO.
So I left class feeling victorious. I decieded to stop by Target for a celebration dinner. A quick frozen pizza and bottle of Pinot Grigio. I searched the wine aisle forever until I found the perfect bottle. Got to the checkout and the associate looks at the bottle like it's covered in slime. She mumbles "Um...yeah, so we don't sell wine after 10pm."
What in fucks name did you just say lady?
She scanned the bottle. The register screen said "ILLEGAL PURCHASE"
"What kind of bullshit is going on in here?! I want this goddamn wine! Fine. Fuck it, if I can't have it. Nobody can"
I knocked the bottle to the floor and it shattered into pieces. The entire checkout turned and look in horror.
Defiantley, I stepped over the chards and marched toward the elevator.
*Okay, so I didn't really break the bottle, but I sure came close to it! It's pretty fucking insensitive to do that to a down on her luck ho bag like me. And now I've got blue balls, cuz some chick wouldn't put out. I even tried flirting with her, and she was all like "I can't break the law." So I told her that I hoped all her bikini line became infected with itchy bumps and walked off.
Though I am without vino, I am with spirit. I'm not giving up. Much like my disgusting fruit fly tenants. Look at them. Hanging out like they at the fucking Roosevelt Hotel pool. Well, I'll take a note from them. I'm gone hang around this motherfucker until I DECIDE it's time to dive in...
Ha. That shit will never happen.
Never retreat. Never surrender kids. I love you fuckers. Thanks for dropping by.
ciao for now,
NEXT BLOG: Carmegeddon is coming Los Angeles so stay at home. This is great news! Girls you don't have to shave your bunny for that date! And boys you can continue to stay in your mom's basement and not have to lie about your house being renovated! Yaytown!