Hey, do you remember that time that I started a blog?

27 10 2009

Me too.

It seems so long ago now, so very very long ago.

Since the last time I have given you thoughts of a ridiculous persuasion, several big things have happened to me. Really, one big thing:

I moved across the country to Los Angeles.

That’s right, I (finally)(sadly)(regrettably) left my warm cozy “living at home after college” nest and decided to spread my wings as a REAL LIVE ADULT. With mixed results, natch.

Pro: I can do whatever I want now without worry of what my parents will think!
Con: I don’t have a job.

Pro: It is so sunny and nice out here!
Con: My skin and general temperament are more suited to winters and street sludge, turns out.

Pro: Many more people that I know and like that are my own age live here!
Con: I legitimately and unironically miss my parent-roommates. Namely their company and well-rounded meals.

So, it is an experience thus far. I live in the ghetto – seriously, I smelled bleach last night and heard someone washing the sidewalk circa 1:30 AM, clearly the tail end of a murder mystery. I am experiencing for the first time in my life being a minority, as we are the only white people on the street. I am also experiencing this weird thing where there is a vegetable truck on our street as opposed to an ice cream truck. I would give like, 25 cents for the vegetable truck to go pick me up some ice cream and bring it back here. Lastly, I am experiencing once again what it is like to not live in a regularly cleaned house. I did not miss blobs of food in microwaves and half eaten bananas sitting around (not mine, to the surprise of my dad.)

Lastly, I miss my dog. This dog here, I’m sorry to say, is not up to snuff. Or not up to RUFF, as a dog would say. And all of the rest of the dogs on this street are cold blooded murderers. In fact, it may have been the dog that murdered someone then bleached and scrubbed the sidewalk last night. Who knows? Los Angeles doesn’t.

Advertisements




Conversations with Zappa

19 09 2009

INT. HAYDEN HOUSEHOLD – DAY

Zappa and Sarah are hanging out, watching TV, doing regular daytime stuff. Zappa is getting restless.

Sarah: Do you need to go out?

Zappa: Well, yes, but I don’t want to trouble you.

Sarah: It’s okay. I was just about to lay down and take a nap, but okay.

Zappa: I can tell you’re upset, we don’t have to go out.

Sarah: Really?

Zappa: No, we do, I have to pee.

Sarah and Zappa stand and approach the door, in perfect synch. Sarah opens the door. Zappa pauses.

Sarah: Go.

Zappa: Aren’t you… aren’t you coming?

Sarah: I pee inside.

Zappa: Sometimes.

Sarah: ZING!

Zappa: No, seriously, aren’t you coming?

Sarah: Ugh, fine, I will stand outside with you.

Zappa: Okay, but I cannot go to the bathroom unless you are within 5 feet of me, so you will have to walk around with me as if I am on a leash, but I won’t be on a leash, I will be in our fenced-in backyard, ignoring my ability to run freely like a regular dog.

Sarah: Fine, I will walk around.

Zappa and Sarah proceed to walk around the backyard, smelling EVERYTHING. Zappa seems like she’s ready to pee.

She hesitates.

Sarah: What’s your problem?

Zappa: Don’t watch.

Sarah: I’m not watching.

Zappa: I can’t go if you are making eye contact with me.

Sarah: Zappa, I am not even looking at you.

Zappa: Well, look at me, but don’t make eye contact.

Sarah: YOU ARE THE WEIRDEST EFFING DOG.

Zappa: I KNOW.

END SCENE.





A conversation between me and my dog

3 09 2009

My dog, Zappa, is the weirdest effing dog on the books. She is more of a needy lez girlfriend than a dog.

INT. HAYDEN HOUSEHOLD, 11:30 AM.

Sarah and Zappa have just come downstairs after a good night’s sleep. No one else is home, which seems to put Zappa on edge.

Sarah: Do you want to go out?

Zappa: No, not really.

Sarah: Do you want a dog biscuit?

Zappa: Don’t patronize me, it’s only 11:30 AM.

Sarah: Do you want to scratch up the leather couch before Dad gets home and yells at you?

Zappa: Well… no. No, we did that yesterday, didn’t we?

Sarah: You did. I’m a human.

Zappa: Right.

Sarah: Do you want to lay on your bed and ignore me?

Zappa: Meh… not really.

Sarah: How about staring out the window and growling at the little kids that you want to eat?

Zappa: I guess I could.

Sarah: But you don’t want to.

Zappa: Not right now.

Sarah: Do you want to just sit on my feet in the middle of the kitchen floor so I can’t go anywhere or do anything without upsetting you?

Zappa: YES, YES THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I WANT.

END SCENE.

Zappa, you’re a real jerk sometimes.

——

What do you call a lottery ticket for dogs?

A DOG SCRATCHER.

Other acceptable answer: “You Lucky Dog”, 101 Dalmatian Chances, A Winner Dog.