betty draper face.

Also, I had a decent interview a couple weeks ago and am currently waiting to hear back from said place.  I’ve already started daydreaming about what I should spend my not unemployment checks on:

–an iPhone
–a housekeeper (my friend Louise’s suggestion)
–a blanket for winter time
–money in my savings account

Wow, I’m pretty boring.

Despair level: 8
Anger level: 2

It kind of hit me at some point during the process that most people in the film business—not just the executives, the people who make them, too—tend to come from pretty upper-class backgrounds. If they go work a job, it’s to have that experience, that sort of thing. After they graduate college, they have time to go visit Europe and take some time off and get their heads together. That kind of thing, I sure didn’t have. So I think that’s part of it. A lot of people hadn’t had to sit there in a cubicle and go, “Okay, this is it, and it’s not going to get any better. And maybe when I’m 58, I can retire.” At the earliest, you know.

Read the article here.

Also it’s 102 and the city tastes like ash.

I have a big interview today, which would be awesome except for the fact that Ted Kennedy just died and I had incredible PMS last night and cried like a baby while reading the NY Times’ tribute to him before bed. So now I’m puffy. Oh and my entire apartment smells like smoke thanks to a wildfire in Azusa (which isn’t nearly as awful as I’m sure it is for the evacuated residents). And I have a big ugly blister on the back of my foot thanks to all the running, which only matters if you think wearing heels is important to a job interview. Or a skirt. So now I’ll be puffy, poorly dressed, smelling like a smoker (yes mom, I will take a shower and brush my hair) as I go in to talk about how I can become a killer web producer / project manager.

Despair level: 8
Anger level: 8
Smelly level: 3

Meanwhile, here’s a list of things I lost in the flood:

My 2 bathmats
My yoga mat
2 really nice boxes
A handful of rag/towels
My Reef sandals (I don’t think any amount of cleaning will take the ick out of them now)
A mop head
4 rolls of paper towels
Wrapping paper ribbon
1 eye glass case
1 Blackberry handbook

As far as water 2 inches deep flooding into 3 rooms of my apartment, this list could be a hell of a lot worse. That being said, I want to wash my feet off with bleach. Fortunately I know it’s a bad idea… Plus that weird guy on Veronica Mars, Lucky, did it an episode before he was shot to death. (Well technically he did it over the summer before he was shot to death, but I don’t want bleach feet to be a harbinger of my death.)

By the way, does anyone know what my building management company is responsible for covering in my losses beyond getting someone to professionally clean my place? I’d really like to get my yoga mat replaced and maybe have them pay for my duvet to be drycleaned.  (Oliver jumped on the bed when I started swearing…)

Oh and if you’re reading this, does anyone know of a dog-friendly place in Los Feliz or Silverlake with hardwood floors, plumbing that has been updated since 1952 and would be available in September? (Ideally below $1314.96 a month…)

Despair level: 10
Anger level: 10
Smelly level: 8

It was super fun. I like Santa Barbara.  And Jason’s friends are rad. Thanks guys.

Despair level: 4

Despair level: 9
Anger level: 7

Despair: 9
Anger: 8

pills, not actually mine

Dear Sir or Madam (though I think it’s fair to assume Madam as the pharmacy assumed you were me),

Though I find it baffling that someone would choose to steal my generic prescription for a low-dose anti-depressant, and though I truly hope that this was some kind of mix-up, I have to say thank you.  I wasn’t feeling relevant today, but thanks to your thievery, I know that somewhere and to some weirdo, I matter.  Or, at least, my generic prescription for a low-dose anti-depressant does. Also, the pharmacy gave it to me for free… so you saved me all of $9.99.

But some questions for you…

Couldn’t you have gone for a real drug? Mine doesn’t do much  and won’t even take effect until 2 weeks from now (if you’re lucky).  And by then, by the time you’re feeling better, the dose will run out and you’ll have all the terrible withdrawl symptoms that mimic severe panic disorder and menopause.  Will you wonder why you didn’t hold out for something fancy or at least that could have gotten you high when you’re sweating and shaking and feeling disconnected to your own body?  Please! Let me know!

Also, how did you know the scrip was even at the pharmacy? As I’m tapering my dosage down, I call it in with very little regularity. In fact, if it wasn’t for today’s horrible headache (yes, you can look forward to that too), I would have totally forgotten I had anything to pick up… yet YOU remembered for me.  And you shelled out $10.

How did you know my address? (By the way, thanks for inspiring me to find a new apartment… maybe in Silverlake or a nicer part of Los Feliz. I was dragging my heels on getting a new place, but this might be the reason I get me out of the house. Literally.)

Are you part of the Armenian mafia? (I only ask because I don’t have many enemies in Los Angeles, but there are a handful of women on my street that find my dog terrifying… And I’m pretty sure they’re all packing and/or are affiliated with serious troublemakers.)

Are you not aware that better and cheaper medications are available over-the-counter? For your next “adventure,” I would highly recommend Benadryl, alcohol or anything used in making meth.

And finally, as you seem to be so attuned to my life and habits – possibly moreso than me – could you please respond with at least one answer to my bevy of questions as it seems quite likely that you read my blog.

Love,

Lizz