The Rat Chronicles Part 2: Not a Casual Relationship/ One Shu too many

Last month I started the Rat Chronicles, a tale of terror. It has been so long since I blogged, I know most of you probably forgot what happened, Quick run down: I found poop in the floor, and I googled it, and it was a rat, and I tried to buy traps but I couldn’t find any for giant rats (They are so huge!)

So, after one night of sleeping in sheer terror, we call the landlord and he sends out the exterminator. The exterminator tells us that it is indeed a rat, and sets some traps. We are so confident that we are going to find a rat, I’m checking the traps every few minutes

          I wake up the next morning to find…POOP ON THE FLOOR AROUND THE KITCHEN!!!!!

He’s a genius! So I name him Barnabe

We realize that he is eating the dog food. So, the next night, we put the dog food up. No poop in the kitchen, but Barnabe pooped around the traps! Then I put dog food around the traps. Barnabe eats the dog food, poops and doesn’t set off the traps. Then I get serious, I vow to emotionally destroy this rat!

          I start doing things to him like, sneaking into the kitchen at night, while it’s totally dark and just screaming “Boo!”  Then I start talking about him really loudly so that he can hear it and feel bad about himself. (Don’t think that matters? Well, roomie found out that rats are as cognizant as a five year old. So it totally matters) I also sang him a song about how he should leave, and…It worked!

(Ok so the exterminator came back and sealed up the spot where he was coming in, but I’m pretty sure it was my song that did it) So, no more rat. We will miss Barnabe, but not really.

In other news: Remember that grown up job I mentioned in my last post? Well, after 5 long weeks, the office ladies decided that they couldn’t take my Angry Birds phone case, the way I packed my lunch most days, and the way I didn’t feel I needed lypo. They sat me down and told me that I “Wasn’t professional on the phone,” “Didn’t fit in,” and “They had a feeling I wasn’t enthusiastic about my job” (enthusiasm is vital to being on hold with an insurance company for 3 hours of the day. Without it, office moral would be down…I mean if anyone talked to me, they could have seen that I was not enthusiastic and that could have pulled down office moral) In general, Shu Shu (Yep, that’s the name) had some very good reasons for firing me. (NOT) So, for 3.5 weeks I was stressed and depressed, then I got a telemarketing job. Where I have been told I am “professional on the phone” “Fit in,” and “boost office moral” Yeah so…they’re stupid and Taylor Swift writes songs about them. 

The Rat Chronicles: (Part I) Google the Poop

                A few weeks ago I moved into a new apartment, got a new job, and started being a grown up. The roommates and I had to deal with some of the usual new apartment issues. Our pilot light went out on the heater, we had a really bad clog in the shower, and we found out that the apartment came with an extra roommate. Yeah, there are four of us now, and two dogs. Oh, it’s not like he takes up much space because he is a rat. YES! My wonderful new apartment that was “such a great deal” has a rat in it!

                I first discovered a small rat turd, ok a large rat turd, in the middle of the bathroom floor. I decided to ignore it. I was busy and it could be anything. I mean, I had never seen mouse poo that large and I refused to believe that a rat would live where humans live in Los Angeles, California. Rats live in New York City. Everyone knows that. About 3 days later, I find another one, and I decide to tell the roommie. She and I had minor panic attacks and start searching through the rest of the house. We find more evidence and have major panic attacks. Then the animal instincts kick in, and I HAVE to kill it. There is nothing that can satisfy me besides the death of this rat!

                Roommie and I decide to buy traps, but I’m not an idiot, I know that the first mistake I can in this war is to underestimate my opponent. If you don’t understand and know your enemy, then how do you know who you’re fighting? First things first, I download The Art of War then I get to work. I need to be sure that we have a rat and not a huge mouse. So I google the size of the poop. That worked. They had scale drawings. We definitely had a rat on our hands. I couldn’t seem to find a good source on how to kill a rat that didn’t gross me out. Lots of blood, gore, and videos with machine guns…not kidding.

                So I head to the store. I wanted a regular snap trap, but roommie thought that Folic Acid would do the trick. Too bad folic acid prevents spina bifida, doesn’t kill rats. However, those rats would have the healthiest babies ever! We go to buy the traps, but nowhere open in the middle of the night in LA sells rat traps. (A little known fact about LA, everything closes super early. I think it’s from all the crime. There is no 24 hour Walmart, and very few 24 hour restaurants. It’s disgusting) My thinking is that mouse traps are better than no traps at all, but a man at the store begs to differ. He tells me to A) tell my landlord and B) not buy the mouse trap. He seems to think that the rat will just look at the trap and laugh and me (and evil squeaky laugh) and then he will know that he is superior. This man was right. The rat is superior.

(Tune in Next Time!)

Sometimes I try to do stand up...

HEY! Latvia look at me doing stand up at the Comedy Store in Hollywood!
The rest of you can watch me too.

Make Little Brittany Proud: What 8 year old me would have wanted.

Ukraine welcom to the blog. Bienvenido!

Remember that nun that I thought lived down the street and had weird habits? Well one day I saw her running just as fast as she could down the street (still in nun garb) and then stopped, turned around, and ran just as fast back the other way. A few days later. I was watching Law and Order and I saw a bunch of Orthodox Jews, and I realized that was her outfit! She's not a weird nun. She's just a teen Hasidic Jew! So relieved. 

Here's a song I'm obsessed with: 

Totally unrelated:

Well, it’s the middle of January and I realize that my New Year’s Resolutions are pretty crappy. (Because I never made any) So I am going to make some.

So I have to look over my life and see what I doing and what I want to do. As I do this, I start thinking about me as a kid. I’ve been thinking about being a kid a lot lately. My toys, my dreams, my desires, and my intense imagination. Most of my strongest memories are my imaginary ones.  So I think, what life would make little Brittany proud? And I know exactly what I need to do. I need to become a LA county lifeguard, who is a part-time cartoonist, and a part-time pig trainer. (I had varied interests as a kid). Ok as you may have guessed, I’m not a fantastic swimmer. So, this life isn’t going to be as perfect as I may have hoped. I recently found a list that I had written to myself 10 years ago, of things that I wanted to do before I died. And as much as I wish, get a BA in Spanish, meet Tim Allen, and buy a car were on that list, they aren’t. I have to make some changes to make 8 year old Brittany proud.

So here is a short summary of life right now:

-I’m job hunting, that’s gross, but has to happen again. Starbucks doesn’t really pay actual bucks

-I’m moving soon. We needed our own rooms.

- I need to eat lunch soon (that one was for me)

-I’ve started the open mics around town and am getting this standup comedy thing on its feet. It’s standing up…almost.

- I’ve been doing improv shows every week, and that’s cool. It’s always good to A) exercise your brain B) exercise you voice C) Meet people D) Be creative.

-I’m writing stuff, very slowly, but writing things. I need to finish something soon.

- I’m also acting silly, dancing around, making references that most people at the table won’t get, making friends, scaring people, hoping to go to Disneyland, and trying to stay away from the cops.

Basically just being me, but I realize that much of what I feel I was known for (ie having great birthday parties and initiating sing-a-longs) has been pretty much lost.

Here come the New Years resolutions!!!!

 I hereby resolve to:

-Finish writing something great

- Have 30 minutes of brilliant stand up

-Only invest my time in things that I love. I will live by my passions. That is why I left so much back in the ol’ K-tuck.

-I will not work a job I don’t like,

-I will not be friends with people who I do not enjoy.

-I will not eat food I think is yucky.

-I will not wear anything that I feel isn’t great. I will make my 8 year old self super proud!

-I will attempt to cultivate a group of people who will celebrate an epic birthday with me,

-I will also attempt to cultivate a group of people who will have a sing-a-long with me. I can do it. 

Of Cabbages and Kings: A Rumbley Ramble through my Reminiscence

Here is how my mind works. (Let’s pretend this is artsy)

I have to write a log line

                I have a hard time concentrating on stuff. Sometimes I think I 

                have a disease.

Write a log line

                There are red leaves all over the ground. Look at the textures

Write a log line

                I hated the sidewalks in Mexico

Write a log line

                I miss my brown shoes. I liked the way the laces felt

Write a log line

                I don’t have a headache. I need to check, but I don’t have one

Write a log line

                Tweety Bird made a weird comeback in the 90s, and reinvented

                 himself from a smarty pants boy to a cute girly bird thing.

Write a log line

                Tweety Bird is like Madonna

Write a log line

                I wonder what Tom Hanks first wife looked like. I need to look her

                 up.

Write a log line

                What did we do before the internet? I would have had to live in front

                of a micro film machine thing.

Write a log line

                Remember that time I drove across the country? It was really 

                windy in Arizona.

 Write a log line

                I can’t see things far away, so when I’m 45 and I can’t see things 

                close, I will have perfect vision.

Write a log line

                Or I will be blind

Write a log line

                Why am I on IMDB?

Write a log line

                How did Shining Time Station get George Carlin and Ringo Star to

                play tiny little train conductors? Drugs did that.

Write a log line

                What is the entire original cast of Barney doing these days?

Write a log line

                What is the cast of Dr. Quinn doing?

Write a log line

                I should write a remake of Baywatch!

NO, I SHOULD WRITE A LOG LINE!!!!!!

                                The End

I’m a total Freaking Rock Star from… Charlie is boring: I’ll talk about the cops some more

First of all I would like to welcome the 5 Russians who have started reading my blog. Welcome to the blog.

I haven’t written in a really long time and frankly, it’s been too long to keep my attention on the Charlie Sheen blog. I’m bored with Charlie. I know that everyone is very disappointed, but I will try to keep Charlie’s principles in the overall themes. But, I really need to talk to you all about the past 2 situations I’ve had with the cops…yeah 2.

                I’ll preface this entry with a little bit of information about my current relationship with the LAPD. At least 3 officers know me on a first name basis. I work at a coffee shop and I’m pretty talkative, that’s to be expected. Even though I have a great reputation with the LAPD, I’m still not ok with being involved with any type of police situation that doesn’t involve coffee and pastries (smoothies are also acceptable)

                My first situation with the cops happened a few weeks ago when I was dog sitting for my friend. I just want everyone to know that I have learned a very important fact about LA. It doesn’t matter what part of town you live in or how nice your home is, at least once every six months, you will have the cops called to where you live. It may be for a shoot out (like at my house) or it may be for a breaking or entering, or it may be for people beating the crap out of each other and yelling about it.

This particular situation was happened one night after I came home from work and start to play with the dogs that I was sitting for. While running around with the dogs I hear some sounds coming from outside the apartment. I listen…nothing. I start playing with the dogs again. I hear the sounds again. I listen…it sounds like people yelling. I turn off the radio…I still hear yelling. I turn off the AC…I still hear yelling. Then I hear, “Steve, Steve, this is the LAPD. We’ve got the place surrounded. Steve, come out or we’re sending the dogs in.”

                I’m starting to freak out at this point. I’m double, triple checking that the doors and are locked. I’m texting everyone I know who is awake. And these dogs that I am sitting for, the dogs who bark when someone walks into their home across the hall, are sitting on the bed, just chilling. Not even bothered by the crime being committed downstairs. The police surround the building with flashlights, and radios, and yelling. Dogs don’t care. The helicopter is over the building, blowing the water in the pool around, creating waves, shining lights into the windows, making hideous amounts of noise, causing the cops to yell even more. The dogs don’t care. The police dogs start barking, Steve is screaming, these dogs don’t care. The aftermath of a crime scene, people come out into the courtyard. Someone starts screaming about their career, these horrible cops, their press ID, and someone they hate named Mike Jones. The dogs don’t care.  By 4 am I go to sleep, still freaking out. The dogs don’t care. I don’t get the deal with the dogs.

                The second time I’ve had a police situation this month was when I was hanging out with this guy who calls me kiddo, and hear some screaming out the window. Naturally I think, “Bunch of drunk kids, horsing around, up to no good. Some people are trying to sleep! Not me, but some people.”  Then I hear a guy yell shut up, and a chick yell, “No, no, help me, help me!” So once again, cue the freak out! This guy and I start freaking out! We go out on the balcony to see and find the drunk chick in a fetal position on the sidewalk with a guy standing over her. We yell at him. Tell him that hitting women isn’t ok (I think he already knew) and ask if she’s ok. He says that she hit him and we have no idea what he has to deal with, with this woman. (We had no idea but thought that she was pretty clumsy to have hit him and then fallen down on the sidewalk like that. We also thought that he was pretty tough to have gotten hit so hard and still be standing up and mocking this violent and angry drunk woman)

They went along their way and we wondered what we should do. Call the cops? If they aren’t complaining about the violence, can the cops do anything? Why is that girl so dumb? Why is that guy such a jerk? Neither of us saw him hit her but we heard it, does that count?

                While we were pondering all of these things, we hear them yelling again from the apartment. So, we leave and run out to find them. According to the sounds, they are clearly killing each other. We meet some other neighbors in the hall. They’ve heard the screaming too, and they called the police. (Yay! We didn’t have to!!!)

So we find the apartment, talk the jerk guy into the hall and wait on the cops (Ok I didn’t do anything but the waiting part, but I witnessed it all). The cops arrive and the 4 of us wait while justice is served. Apparently I am hilarious while I wait because a girl we were waiting with asked if we ever did shows. I told her yes, but I didn’t have any scheduled. There was no justice served that day. Just some really awkward glances as the violent drunk couple parted ways and left. But I learned 2 important lessons.

1)      Crime is everywhere in LA, and I should get to know more cops.

2)      If you can make fans during a domestic dispute, that’s a good sign that you are a TOTAL FREAKING ROCK STAR FROM MARS! (and you may have tiger blood) Also, it makes me feel like doing the standup comedy thing is a pretty good idea.

Thanks domestic violence for giving me a thumbs up and a push in the right direction.  Oh, LA.

Are you Bi-polar? Nope, I’m from Kentucky and broke. I mean, winning

Whenever I meet a vegetarian I try to commiserate with them and I usually say that I am also a vegetarian, then I proceed to eat meat.  If they question me, I tell them I’m a non-practicing vegetarian, or I say that I culturally identify with vegetarians, but that’s not my personal persuasion of living. Try it, then, question the way you live your life.

As you know, I have been trying to live each day like Charlie Sheen.  It’s really hard, especially without the heroine. My last post was a couple of weeks ago, and I’m sure that all of my European readers and that one guy in Indonesia are wondering what happened to my challenge. Well, I took a week off from life and went back home to Louisville, KY. It was great to be home, but the weather was crap and I was so busy having friends that I didn’t have any time to write the blog that my friends read.

So, I’m back and in LA and hating on hippies even more than I did before. Luckily for me, I had a co-worker say this to me the other day, and it sparked this blog back to life.

“I like how you can cut me down and simultaneously support me in the same sentence” 

I responded, “Yeah I’m a Gemini” but really I though, hey, that sounds Bi-polar! I’ve been trying to get someone to ask me if I was bi-polar for weeks! Finally!

So, the next part was trying to find out how I was bi-winning, or how I could start bi-winning. I found myself talking to a friend of mine who had been cheating on his wife for years and I thought, wow, dude, you are bi-winning! Even losers bi-win now and then.

Then I realized: I think I’m bi-losing…bi-coastal bi-losing, the worst kind of bi-losing, really. I am losing in LA and I am losing in Kentucky.

When I went home, I just wanted to see my family and the people I cared about the most, and I did. I was actually pretty nervous about seeing everyone else. I didn’t want to be disillusioned. Everything looks perfect from far away.

Some people haven’t changed a bit. Some have changed for the better. Some I had forgotten that I didn’t like anyway.  Others have just lost themselves. I didn’t even recognize them. Then there were the people who reminded me why I moved here. It’s remarkable what an hour with the right people can do. Inspirational

Then, sometimes, a special person kicks you right in the ‘nads and you realize that you are losing. That happened in Kentucky too. So, when I got back to LA and realized how disgusting life can be, and got kicked in the ‘nads  by my bank account, I realized, I AM BI-LOSING! I am losing personally and I am losing officially! I’m sorry Charlie Sheen.

I don’t know how to fix this. I guess time should do it? To bi-win we must first bi-lose? That sounds Biblical. But I don’t wanna bi-lose! I want to bi-win dagnabbit! Win here, win there, win, win everywhere!

My wins are so little, like, I found my black and pink argyle sock the other day. My bangs look pretty good on a consistent basis, and my check engine light on my car went off for a couple minutes the other day. I don’t even know if those are considered wins. I guess the point of this could be to appreciate the tiny wins everyday and hope that they outweigh the overwhelming feeling of my bi-coastal bi-losing? Nope, I’m just going to listen to obscure music on YouTube, wear hats, and wallow in my sea of self-centered self-loathing.  

The next post is “I’m a Total Freaking Rock star from Mars.” Maybe this next section will be more positive.

The best part of being in the basement is knowing that there is an entire building sitting on top of you…no wait…