Photographic Evidence of the Last Time I Will Ever Be In This M’fn Convenience Store

I hope you like this picture I took last night, even though it’s not a good picture. I’m looking for some kind of bright side to what happened after I’d taken it.

I’d been waiting in line for a long time. Long enough to look up, see these lights and think, “Why?”

After I paid for my things, I scooted off to the side to snap a couple of pictures. First, this one. But as I went to take a second that included the cold storage underneath these lights, I suddenly felt something on me, skin on my face, a mouth on my ear. And then a bark, hot and frantic and human in my ear.


I screamed and jumped. Maybe in that order? I don’t know. Have you ever had someone bark into your head? Things get weird.

Behind me stood the tiny homeless woman I’d seen sitting outside earlier, screaming at everyone that we had no right to be happy. In retrospect, maybe she had only been yelling at me.

Dressed in black, her head wrapped in a shawl, she looked exactly like the Evil Queen from Snow White when she handed over the poison apple.

I am still holding my hand to my head as she screamed, "No picture taking!"

"Yes, ma’am!"

(I will never understand my jacked-up fight or flight reflex. ‘Yes, ma’am?’ Really?)

As I was busy getting the fuck out of there, she turned to the line of men who just watched this shit happen, and she goes, "This kind of thing has happened before." So to any others of you out there who’ve had this happen to them in this weird store: Dude, I’m so sorry. That sucks.

I’m learning that one of the dangers of looking up is that you don’t see who’s coming to get you from down below.

Attention People Who Get High

I think I found a present for you.

N.A.S.A. — “Gifted (feat. Kanye West, Santogold & Lykke Li)”

Attention People Who Aren’t Afraid of Birds and Who Love Los Angeles (And I Think This Might Be Too Scary If You’re High)

Here’s yours:

N.A.S.A. — “Way Down (feat. RZA, Barbie Hatch & John Frusciante)”

And not a present, not a present, oh, God, I wish I hadn’t watched this video all alone late at night:


[Maybe buy the album, Spirit of Apollo, so you won’t have to watch the scary videos.]

Day Four. Updates.

Let me see if I can paint the past week for you really quickly.

OCTOBER 29. Monday. We get to work knowing it’ll probably be our last week of work. We are frantically writing what will be our final script. Pencils down is coming soon. We are hoping against hope that a strike will be avoided. Everybody’s tense. Our show airs tonight, the third episode, and if it does as well as it has been going, we’re looking like we’ll get a full-season order. Everything you dream of as a working writer might just happen… just in time to walk out of the offices.

I debate for hours, literally hours, about finally going to a meeting to sign up as our official strike captain. I ask other people on staff if they’ll do it, or if they’re interested. Most people say to me that since I am sympathetic to every person’s situation in the room, and because I’m the most passionate about both striking and working, they’d rather I was the one in charge. Besides, I’m the one who’s had all of the information. And I’ve done this before. For years now. I walked the line with Top Model (I would love to post a link but my archives are terribly broken. Can someone help me fix Moveable Type? AB’s very busy with her strike duties!). I helped with the early organization for Comedy Central, which led to several shows going Guild.

[I just heard a group of high schoolers marching outside on their way home from school, shouting, “Strike! Strike! Right, left, right! Strike! Strike! Right, left, right!” Thanks for the solidarity, my friends.] Continue reading

Cal-ifornia Love

I think Cal has decided his time with us is over.

About three weeks ago, I came home late and watched The Sopranos on the couch with stee. Afterwards, as I was falling asleep, stee asked, “Where’s Cal?” It wasn’t like him not to be on stee’s legs, or in front of the television, or standing on my neck. I realized I hadn’t seen him the entire time I’d been home, which was more than an hour.

It was one in the morning, and it was time to go to sleep, but there would be no sleeping until we knew where Cal was. Our house is rather small, and it only took about three minutes of searching to determine he wasn’t in the house. Continue reading

It’s Not A Phobia If It’s Rational

I don’t like dolls. I’m not going to freak out around your Barbie, but if you’ve got one of those old-timey, eyes shut when you lower it, hair like Firestarter dolls, then I’m not going to stay in the same room with it. It’s that simple. My semi-pediophobia comes from a very real place, and once you know about it, you can’t deny the fact that I have every reason in the world to be terrified of dolls. Continue reading

Stars Hollow-een

We were talking about scary movies at work when someone said, “You know the last thing I did that really scared me? I rode my bike back from the stage to the office last night.”

I knew exactly what he was about to say. “Oh, God!” I shouted. “You rode through Stars Hollow at night!”


“It’s terrifying!” Continue reading