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…

Banging 7 Gram Rocks? (It's how I roll) and "The GO"

So today is day one of living like Charlie Sheen, well, Ok, I actually started this a few days ago, but I just now got to the point where I could write about my experiences.
So, in the last post I mentioned my issues with the hippies and all of the self evaluation that I had been doing lately. (I hate when one blog post builds off another, and that's what I'm doing. I think each blog post should be like an episode of Seinfeld. You can watch it, without following the show and be completely entertained and then nominate it for a people's choice award a year after it's been off the air. That's what I aspire to be, in this blog...ok..back to the blog)

Anyway, I decided to follow the epic words of Charlie Sheen in this song

So, the first phrase that I decided to explore was:
"I was banging 7 gram rocks"
(this sounds like the beginning of a crappy paper I would have submitted in Spanish Class, but it would read like this: La primera frase que yo decidia explorar fue, "Yo estuve usando las rocas 7 gramas" It's so crappy, trust me)
 LA is the perfect back drop for this story. Crazy drug dealers driving the streets. Homeless people walking around Starbucks parking lots wearing only underwear and a kids life jackets. Armenians yelling at you for looking at their bagels. It's a rough town. The perfect place to BANG 7 GRAM ROCKS!

So I did it, and I was told I had a great time.  Unfortunately I woke up wearing a Tshirt from 2 concerts I didn't even go to, with a bag from Carl's Jr and a tea light candle. (Thanks Jeff for taking the pic)
This experience taught me that I'm pretty much invincible. No, I am.

This is short, so I will also talk about
       "I have one gear GO"
(This one will get a little bit more in depth.)
       Everyday we have to get up in the morning and GO. If you've ever met me, you probably know that I don't like to get up in the morning, and if I don't have somewhere to be, I won't do it. When I was in middle school, I was homeschooled and the only reason I ever got out of bed in the morning was to watch re-runs of Knight Rider. Yep. That's me.
       So, we wake up for our jobs, our kids, our appointments, but what happens when you don't have any of those things? Why do you ever wake up? Theoretically, you should wake up because you're not tired anymore, but really, c'mon, that's not going to happen. When I moved out here, I had no job, no kids, no appointments, no plans, no reason to wake up, but I still did. I didn't really know why, but Charlie Sheen says that he has one gear, GO. Maybe it was the GO that got me up. Sometimes you just do things because you have to. You want to pee so much that you get out of bed. No matter how much you hate your life, you feel that push inside your guts and you keep going. Deep down inside I knew/ know that I have to get up every morning and write a blog, and practice my ukulele, and write my stand up, and write my pilot, and write my feature, and go to work, because I know that I didn't leave everything I loved in Kentucky to sleep in LA.
        I'm positive that Charlie Sheen probably was talking about getting jazzed up on expensive cocaine, but the theory is the same. It's a focus on the force that moves us forward. (Not "The Force" from Star Wars. That doesn't move us forward. That "Force" controls our actions, but it also obey's our commands.) Charlie Sheen's GO and my GO are similar in that they keep us moving when sleep, and happiness, and fun die out. Dreams and Plans; Coke and Supermodels, it all works the same. Chew on that introspective stuff Hippies. I'm waking up in the morning and eating a healthy breakfast. That's the kind of girl I am.
Thanks Charlie.
So, we beat on, boats against the current, ceaselessly into the future (Shut up Fitzgerald, this is how I like it)