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!)

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…

I’m working for the most powerful rodent in the world. #6

I work for “Mouse Works Inc.”. My first real day was to work the press junket for a film we will call, Autos 2. (It’s the sequel to Autos.) My job for the day was to, and I quote my manager, “Stand here and look pretty.” So, I stood next to a hand sanitizer dispenser for 5 hours in the cold. Yes, back when this happened, it was pretty cold here. I know what you’re thinking, “Wasn’t it really great to work the press junket? There were reporters and celebrities, and interesting interviews!” Well, I will tell you, YES it was pretty great. I got to see great interviews with really interesting people on topics that interest me. Yes, autos and animation interest me. I never claimed to have sophisticated interests. However, I also realized something, when you work for a giant corporation with endless funds; they have no problem paying you to do nothing. A major part of my “standing there and looking pretty” was “not to talk to anyone.” That is very hard for me. Very hard!  It’s even harder when the people who are standing around you notice that you have been standing in one spot for hours and they start asking you questions, like, “Why are you here?” What was I supposed to do, play Pictionary? I had to answer them.

So, now we have another entry of here’s what I said, here’s what I wanted to say:  

            They would ask: What are you doing? You’ve been standing here for hours. Or they would say. Why are you standing here? Or what’s your job today?

            I wanted to say: I have no idea. They told me to stand here, look pretty, smile and not talk to you. I think they are just trying to A) guard their stuff from you and your grubby hands and B) make it look like there are more people here. It makes the entire situation more exciting when there are more people here.

            I really said: I am demonstrating how to use this hand sanitizer. Would you like a demonstration? Then I would giggle and show them how to use the automatic hand sanitizer pump. It’s pretty easy.

They would usually leave me alone after that.  

After 5 hours of watching people interview celebrities, I came to this conclusion; some celebrities are babies. I kind of want to say, “It’s not going to get better than this for you. You are sitting in a chair (I’m standing up) and people are being nice to you, and asking you questions that have no wrong answers, like, do you have a car? Do you like cars? What’s the most fun thing about your car?

After those questions you will get some free food, and the people around the food will be nice to you, and you don’t have to park your own car, or pack your lunch, or make sure that your black pants are clean for tomorrow. You don’t have to find any quarters to wash those black pants. You probably have a washer and dryer in your house, and a wife or nice Mexican lady who knows how to use them. If you are unhappy after all those things, then you need to really examine yourself.  Maybe you followed the wrong dream, because I’m pretty sure all your dreams have already come true at this point and you are still being a baby. Maybe you really wanted to be an administrative assistant. Maybe then you would be happy. If you need help figuring out what you want to do with yourself, I will gladly trade you. You can work at Central Perk and stand here next to this hand sanitizer for 5 hours and I will sit in that chair and have people kiss my butt. I hope that helps!