In college Amy was a double major in HELL and CRAZY. This meant she never slept and was always on top of things. She is now about to be a doctor. Her husband, Kevin, is about to be a lawyer. And together they will own Texas in about seven years. Continue reading
Look at all the books! I’m so proud.
Can’t wait? Read Gwen’s book, To the Last Man I Slept with and All the Jerks Just Like Him, right now.
“I just want one of those damn entries out there to just be called ‘Chris and Allison’s Wedding.’ Is that so hard? Can’t it just say that and then talk about how pretty the wedding was?”
I would have done that anyway, even if the bride hadn’t specifically requested it, because the wedding was perfect. I cannot wait for the pictures. For the first time ever, I can’t wait to look through someone’s wedding pictures — a wedding I attended, even.
So, I’ve said that it was perfect. Now I’ll have to tell the self-centered story that these journal entries dictate. Sorry, Allison. You were the queen of winter, but I’m the princess of pamie.com, so I have to do what I have to do.
Sorry. Didn’t mean to abandon you, there.
Let’s see. Well, I was pretty busy recapping my butt off for Boomtown and Gilmore Girls. I’m also diving back into my new novel, and I’ll allow myself to be sidetracked in a second to stop working on it, so I’ve been forcing myself to go to coffee shops to keep my head in the game.
Now so much has piled up that I haven’t discussed that I’ll have to just line-item them.
To live in Los Angeles, you must have a thick skin. Just about every single day someone is going to turn you down. Someone is going to reject you. Sometimes entire companies take a quick glance at you and say, “No.” You want to know why. The truth is, there’s no real “Why.” Sure, they say you’re too this or your too that. As an actor you might be too tall, too fat, too skinny, too funny, not Hispanic enough. As a writer you might be too edgy, too political, too soft, too precious, or not manly enough. The truth is you just weren’t the right piece for the right hole at the moment. It’s nothing to do with you; it’s just business. Nobody’s trying to knock you down or hurt you. Everybody’s just doing their job. Everybody wants to do whatever that day isn’t going to get them fired. Taking a chance on you that day just might get them fired. So you’ll have to wait for someone who either loves taking risks or doesn’t realize that you might be one.
Absolutely everybody in this town is faking it. We all think we are frauds and we’re terrified we’ll be found out at any moment. To cover this up, we act like we don’t need you, don’t need him and we certainly don’t need them. Everybody’s seen everything before. Everybody knows everyone. You can’t bring up a topic — it’s already been covered to death. You can’t try and surprise anyone — there are no more surprises.
and some hate mail
Someone asked me today, “Where do you think your wit comes from?”
People don’t generally like that question answered with a joke, so I gave my usual, “I work very hard on it,” answer, but it got me thinking. Where did my funny come from?
veruca salt ain’t got nothing on me.
There is a knot in my back. Right by my shoulder blade. I really, really, really need a massage therapist.
Sometimes I take a look around at my friends and realize that I’m missing some important people in my life. Some of my friends are just standing around wasting their bodies instead of contributing to the good of the group whole.
Sure, they’re all funny, but do we need that many funny people? Like, use the funny as a hobby or something, but find a useful talent for the group.
it’s almost over
As much as I’ve been complaining about how busy I am, I’m really sad that Polaroid Stories is ending tomorrow. We’ve joked about how we haven’t done this much rehearsal for a show since competitive high school theatre, where you had 35 minutes to put up a show, run it and strike it, and you were up against other high schools in your state. We were rehearsing over thirty hours a week. When we first got there, only some of us knew each other, and we stayed pretty quiet. Within a week, we were hanging out and laughing like we’d known each other all along. And the hardest part about ending a show is knowing that some of those people you probably won’t see again very often. The only reason you met was because you both were in this show. Otherwise your lives don’t ever cross.
the best kind of surprise phone call
In case there were any worries, I’m not planning to end my site any time soon. I see this has been a trend in the online journal community lately, and there seems to be something in the air once we get to the end of each month (“ih. I don’t want to make another directory. Fuck it.”), so I’m just saying here: no plans to quit.
I got a call from an old friend yesterday.