Monthly Archive for December, 2011

PHEW

Published on December 28, 2011 in Mary Hamilton and Todd Zuniga. 2 Comments

We made it through the major color-driven holidays. Good work, everyone. I used to get very depressed during Christmas — twelve screaming fights, eleven morning cocktails, ten pounds of weight gain — before I decided to embrace the day, to go all out even: buying a tree, hanging a wreath on my sad apartment door, playing the hell out of Pandora’s “Christmas Jazz” station, having lots of people over the day-of for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It’s maybe one of the more annoying things I do, but it helps me get through the end of the year.

HOSTESSING OUT OF CONTROL

(Mary Hamilton made the dress above. She made it!) My parents were in town for the week and we got to explore Silver Lake and Griffith Observatory. They also helped me out (with Mary and Todd) with a cold-read of a pilot I’m working on, and now I have the forever-memory of my mom saying “Hotties aplenty, dude,” which is maybe the best line of dialogue I’ve ever written or will ever write, past or future. Just give me the award now. The Dialogue Award.

All that holiday cheer is tiresome, even when it’s self-sustaining. I haven’t ventured into my office yet, choosing instead to stay in bed like I’m still on vacation and I just like answering work email for funsies.

I hope you had a lovely holiday, or if you didn’t have a lovely holiday, that at least it’s over now and hey it’s almost New Years, the holiday that sneaks up on us all and is a fun party, with kissing.

SOME EXCITEMENT

Published on December 19, 2011 in Total Wreck. 3 Comments

Last night at around 5am, the cat was putting her paw into my mouth to demand food when we were both startled by a metal-on-metal crash that shook the building. I got out of bed and peeked out my front window, where I saw a man in the street running circles around his car. Smoke was pouring out of the hood and the man alternated between lifting the hood to examine the damage, collecting bottles of water from his passenger seat and pouring them on the engine block, hauling ass back to the driver’s seat, trying to start the car. Every time he tried, the car produced a nasty grinding noise and died. The smoke was getting worse and I had a vision of him blowing himself up on the spot, so I called 911 and told them that a guy had ran his car into some parked cars on my street. By then, the guy was starting to run halfway down the street, turn, and run back to the car. He seemed to be having trouble making decisions. I told the lady on the phone that the guy appeared to be about to abandon the vehicle. The lady on the phone asked me if I had seen the crash. I said I hadn’t, and she said that if I hadn’t seen it, I couldn’t confirm that it had happened. I said, okay. The lady asked me if I could see flames. I said that it was just smoke, and she said that if I couldn’t see flames, it wasn’t on fire. I said, good point. The lady asked if anyone on the scene needed a paramedic. The guy ran down the street and around the corner. I said no and went back to bed. Today, the car is gone and there is a long skid mark starting from a line of parked cars totally crushed on their left side panels. I didn’t see it happen so I have no idea what to think.

GOOD JOB

Published on December 12, 2011 in Uncategorized. Closed

I’m going to pretend like I didn’t find a lot in common with Charlize Theron’s acerbic, depressed, Diet Coke-chugging Mavis Gary in Young Adult. Instead, from here on out, I’m going to try to have a lot in common with Mavis Beacon, because that lady knows how to TYPE.

THANKS

I have a writing partner now, which is kind of like having an actual partner except you never fight and he doesn’t ask why you’re whispering about home row in your sleep. I also bought a tiny space heater. It makes my tiny closet office more bearable. It’s humming away happily now.

LIT-RIT-CHURR

  • Renee Zambo interviewed me for Necessary Fiction. You can find our conversation and a glowing picture of Kathy Fish here.
  • Also, please find a sweet review of Museum of the Weird over at I Read Odd Books.
  • Just starting to put together tour dates for THREATS next year. Boston (Booksmith!), NYC (Happy Ending!), Iowa (Prairie Lights!) and more. Really excited to get on the road.
  • My piece “Fifty Ways to Eat Your Lover” is in McSweeney’s 39.

TODAY’S THOUGHT WHILE GOOGLE IMAGE SEARCHING PICTURES OF RICK ROSS

Published on December 2, 2011 in boss. Closed

Posit: The phrase “like a boss” removes power from the speaker, who simultaneously attempts to gain power by the very act of their claim.

“Eating a sandwich like a boss.”

By not cutting off the crust and by keeping a napkin by my side, I am eating this sandwich in the way a boss might. This action is based on my observations of bosses that I know personally or professionally along with media-based cultural cues.

“Living in a one-bedroom apartment like a boss.”

Though I am aware that many bosses live in Los Angeles and in fact enjoy their time here, as I do, my choice of domicile is only a simulacrum of how this revered Other lives. I have very little insight into the way upper management might exist in Los Angeles but I offer this approximation. Would a boss seek out gas stations offering a lower cash price? Perhaps.

“Shopping at Food 4 Less like a boss.”

I understand that one must spend money to make money, and the fact that milk is only $3 at this discount grocery store gives me pleasure in my budgetary habits, not unlike  how a boss might react while reading the spending report from FY2011.

“Feeling groggy like a boss.”

Surely, after a long day packed with managerial activities, any boss is going to feel sleepy. This theoretical boss might put his head down on his mahogany desk while nobody was watching. He might not necessarily spend the morning in bed, holding the covers up over his nose and mouth while wondering at the best name for a modern romance novel (A Bard to Butt-Dial?) but the sentiment behind the action would be the same.

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