August 9, 2010

A Conversation Between Me and Kevin: Part EIGHT

well well well
cant make it out, eh?

hello kevy
yes well
i get off work at 5:30


so it would be impossible for me to get there
you did it on purpose

i get off at like 7
im leaving early
because life is short
and you should spend it with friends

August 6, 2010

Firework to the Head

When my best friend Danielle and I were in France a couple of years ago, we were in Paris on Bastille day.   It was our first night in Paris and we sat under the Eiffle Tower with a few of our new French friends, wine and cheese that smelled like feet (the cheese not the wine), and whole avocados that we ate out of the shell with a spoon.  It grew dark and the most amazing fireworks display I have ever seen literally took my breath away.  At one point some dude put his video camera on a tripod right in front of our faces but that was rectified.  That guy was a jerk.  But wow was that amazing to see all the people under the ol' Eiff and the sky lit up, totally submerged in this foreign and beautiful place. 

I think the fireworks went on for an hour - it seemed like it anyway.  Once they finished we packed up and our friend we were staying with said we would walk home to her flat per Bastille Day tradition.  I stood up, tears in my eyes from the beauty of it all, so glad to share this glorious moment with my best friend, looked up at the Eiff, and GOT HIT STRAIGHT IN THE FACE WITH A MINI FIREWORK.  I mean literally a FREAKING FIREWORK hit me in the FACE.  Some kid must have set it off in the crowd.  France apparently has no illegal fireworks law.  I looked wildly around for the culprit, clutching my nose and staggering with a Hunchback of Notre Dame type stance. 

Danielle and our French friend were walking ahead of me and I yelled "I was hit!!! I was hit!!!"  I couldn't find the firework anywhere on the ground.  I hope it was trampled by the crowd.  I can't remember what the reaction was from my friends, but I'm pretty sure Danielle burst out laughing.  And I'm also pretty sure I shamed all of France. 

I composed myself and pointed at my "injury".  It was a tiny little red mark that went away in about 3 hours.  But I will never forget that little firework.  It was as if it sensed my dreamy, hopeful, wonderful moment and said in a French accent "AH-HA!  Take zat silly americann! Pull yourself togethzer!"

That was a great night.

July 22, 2010

You May Be One of Them

I received a crazy spam email today that said the following:

"This has been sent to the most important people on this planet, and you may be one of them."

Just that, that's all it said.  No attachments. No subject line.

Now I have two things to say.  Person who sent me spam, thank you for the kind words and the shout out.  However, what is with this "MAY be one of them" business?

If you're going to send crazy spam you better not be iffy and unclear on your meaning and say MAY.  You better commit to the crazy.  Why not just tell everyone you send it to they ARE the most important people on the planet?  Why leave any doubt?

Perhaps Crazy Spammer meant this as a test or an initiation into a contest or Survivor-like championship for the Most Important Person On the Planet and just forgot to write the rest.  If so, I ACCEPT the challenge.  Maybe Crazy Spammer is Jeff Probst.

Which brings me to my second point.  I wonder who else got this missive of pure insanity?  Perhaps Lady Gaga received this same message from Crazy Spammer/Jeff Probst.  Perhaps the Gaga is contemplating her own worth and is enraged by the injustice of being told she only MAY be important. 

Gaga, you are not alone.  But you made millions on a song that contains the phrase RAH RAH AH AH AH ROMA RO MA MA GAGA OOH LA LA.  So you're doing all right Gaga.  You're doing all right.

July 20, 2010

Donuts & Mushroom Soup

After work today I took a walk to the local grocery store to get ice cream.  I debated on going to Cold Stone for some chocolate ice cream loaded with brownies and lard but then decided to just buy a tub of ice cream because a) I'd have to drive to Cold Stone and ever since I've been able to walk to work I find the act of driving heinous and off-putting and b) a tub of ice cream is the gift that keeps on giving.

I walked into the store, and being on slightly unfamiliar territory with that particular store, meandered first through the soup aisle.  Upon spotting my favorite Campbell's mushroom soup, I decided I better grab some of that too.  I grabbed 4 cans at first, but then put two back because I decided 4 was excessive.  You can have too much soup but you can never, never have too much ice cream.

Deliberate with my quest and not wanting to be distracted by various comfort foods of my youth again, I bee-lined for the freezer aisle.  But before I could make it there, what appears before me, unabashed, glistening, and unmistakable on a layered center display?  A box of chocolate Entenmann's Donuts.  Eight to a box, chocolate frosting, white cake on the inside, most likely some sort of addictive substance baked in.

Without hesitation, I grabbed the box, clutched it to my chest, and speed-walked to the front of the store saying perhaps too loudly "EXCUSE ME" to some man tying his shoe in the MIDDLE of the aisle I was walking down.  He was startled but I didn't care.  I would have expected the same had I been 7 feet tall and so careless to tie my shoe in the middle of an aisle where tiny short people are trying to get through with their donuts.

When I purchased my two cans of Campbell's and box of donuts the checker asked if I was going to share the donuts.  I said, "No sir, I will eat this WHOLE BOX.  Probably tonight."

He gave me a pitying look and said, "I hope not. That's sad."

To which I said, "Sir.  You are mistaken.  This is not sad.  This is, in fact, joyous.  I eat this box of donuts not because I am sad, but because I rejoice in the memories these donuts give me." (memory of me throwing one at my brother's face in anger, memory of me stuffing one in my pocket and eating it in chemistry class while working with chemicals, memory of one being washed down with a Corona in college).  

I think I made myself clear to the checker and I also think I should wait a while to go back there again.

But what a delightful dinner it was.  And hey, ice cream, better luck next time.

May 3, 2010

Big Brother Little Sister In a Nutshell

On a jeeping adventure where we eat subway sandwiches on a hill, inside the jeep because the wind is making me sneeze consistently for 10 minutes:

Me:  The wind is mighty.

My brother:  So is your ability to annoy me.

April 29, 2010

Don't get married. Ride your bicycle.

When I was a kid of about 7 or 8 I DISTINCTLY remember my Grandpa Lema telling me "Don't get married.  Ride your bicycle."  I think this was in direct correlation to him arguing with my Grandma over SOMETHING.  I wish I could remember what.  I do remember it was the kind of arguing that makes you realize even as a kid how well these two people know each other and how much they truly love each other.  They argued all the time but damned if it wasn't entertaining - and damned if it didn't teach me to be a little firecracker when I'm really passionate about something. 

So as I'm at a time in my life when the majority of my best friends are quite suddenly getting married, this phrase has darted out at me frequently.  Most importantly, it makes me laugh because my Grandpa was HILARIOUS.  Although sometimes I'll over analyze it and think maybe he was telling me to not get tied down and to roam the world free, to pursue my dreams as a lone pirate or ranger or cowboy or Jedi or other rogue awesome scavanger warrior.  Or maybe he was saying that it is my destiny to ride alone for awhile. 

Or maybe he just said it cause he knew it would make my Grandma frown and then try hard not to laugh and then hit him with a kitchen spoon.  Cause that's how in love they were.

April 21, 2010

What is rattling?

A couple of weeks ago I got my car back from the shop after having been rear-ended.  There was minimal damage but my bumper had to be replaced blah blah blah. 

I was driving around a few days later and kept hearing a rattling sound coming from behind me so I started reaching into the back seat and flailing my arm around to see what is was.  I found a small clip in the side door (yes I managed to reach this whilst driving) and thought I had solved the problem. 

But the rattling continued.

So when I stopped at the local CVS to pick up some toothpaste and wine (perfect combination) I peered into the backseat.  And saw an ENTIRE bumper.  My entire old bumper was in my backseat and I hadn't even noticed.  A giant metal and rubber HARPOON.   I MEAN THE ENTIRE BUMPER.  FOR THREE DAYS.  IN MY BACK SEAT. 

I then proceeded to drive home and put it in the hall closet in my apartment - one, to use as a weapon when zombies attack us and two, to remind myself to pay attention to the bumpers in my back seat and three, to have it be something that my roommate finds on a random day in our hall closet (you're WELCOME trisha).

April 12, 2010

An Ode to Colby

Today my parents decided to sell my first car, Colby the Beige Pontiac.  He has been a good friend since I was 15,  always waiting for me, and never jealous but instead ever accepting of my newest transportation, Betty the Jetta.  He never let me down, even when I ran him into a giant pole and my brother had to use a sledge hammer to get out the dent.  Even when I broke off the little knob that controls the side view mirror and then broke the side view mirror trying to fix the knob.  Even when I drove him over a barrier and popped his tire and allowed strange 15 year old boys into his trunk to retrieve his spare tire.  Even when I scoffed at his all beige all the time interior and exterior.  Even when I hung cliche black dice on his rear view mirror and thought I was cool.  Even when I named him after the first winner of Survivor.  That's right.  Colby.  Always loyal, always true. May your new owner not run you into as many things as I have. 

I need not say anymore than my first boyfriend's true and eloquent words on the subject:


I will never forget the beautifully awkward "first times" i had within your safe and comforting chassy.

You were the chariot that i rode into manhood.

Colby, i will light a candle for you today and for all pontiacs so that they might one day dream of living up to your unstained (well... i bet it got a little stained...) reputation.

Farewell sweet prince.

The rest is silence.

February 25, 2010

"Are you dead?"

A few months ago a small child walked by me on the street, said "are you dead?" and then got distracted by something on the sidewalk and shuffled after his mother, completely dismissing me and having no idea what he had just accused me of. As I contemplated whether a) I am in fact dead and this child is Hailey Joel Osmont trapped in time or b) He saw in one glance that I was in a dead end job in Beverly Hills, rehearsing for two shows that I wasn't getting paid for in Hollywood, and continuously in limbo trying to upstart my career in the entertainment industry by not getting an agent, not going to casting director workshops, and generally not doing anything I'm supposed to be doing because of said non-paid theatre jobs and said paid dead-end-pay-the-rent job keeping me too busy. Which brought me to defend my self to the asshole child by thinking how much joy the shows I do at my theatre bring me....but I imagine his retort would be "yes but you can do more".

At this point, unaware of my inner dialogue, the asshole child is tottling along the street giggling at his mom who is completely ignoring him and probably just had botox injected into her neck. So suck on that asshole child, I may be dead, but your mother probably doesn't love you.

A Conversation Between Me and Kevin: Part Eleven




i just felt like saying hello


A Conversation Between Me and Kevin: Part Seven

sometimes jimmy olsen has to just sit there and be alone
while superman is off at the fortress

why can't i be superman

because youre too small and weak

A Conversation Between Me and Kevin: Part Six

the play that i'm working on
you should come see it


i can get you a free ticket

can you pay me $65 an hour to see the play?

its an hour and fifteen mintues

let me see the money

come to the show first

youre a liar
im going to caffe primo
i wont be back

i don't even know what that is

i know

A Conversation Between Me and Kevin: PART THREE

i am writing something
its called
"a conversation between me and kevin"
and its all the things you say to me
that are both stabbing and hilarious

when i die you will sell many copies of it

and i will be rich

and you will be interviewed for the documentary
and you will cry as you describe how cruel i could be

but that you made me stronger
because of it

and weaker at the same time

you're like the dark side to my anakin skywalker

A Conversation Between Me and Kevin: PART TWO

would you want to do a sheldon reunion show
if i produced it here in la
a show that you, me, laur, trish, robertson,
etc could be in



i dont have time for this

what why?
i would make time

im sure you would
you dont even have a boyfriend
much less a husband
get to work on your life, michelle