What Might Happen While We're In LA

On Thursday, Gen, Meghan and myself head out to the great state of California to visit Rachel in her (new) natural habitat.

In preparation for yet another grand event, I have compiled the following list of probable occurrences.

1) Gen abuses the liquor cart on the plane and gets lost in transit. We find her coming through baggage claim six hours later, passed out inside her suitcase.

2) I realize my dream and make out with Frankie Muniz.

3) I accidentally on purpose make out with an underage Disney star (or two).

4) Meghan wears a slutty dress and gets mistaken for a hooker. She meets Eddie Murphy in all of the confusion and they marry in a lavish Vegas ceremony.

5) I get mistaken for a hooker and amidst no confusion but lots of alcohol, marry Verne Troyer.

6) Rachel flips out because our clothes are more Williamsburg than LA.

7) I stalk Kathy Griffin in a misguided attempt to make her love me and get arrested for trespassing.

8) I force everyone to go on a Celebrity Homes tour and weep when I see Merv Griffin's house (the man created Jeopardy!, people. He is/was a god.)

9) I give out my entire supply of business cards and get no emails/calls about my brilliant blog.

10) After a night of heavy drinking and "sexy" dancing, I go to Roscoe's to get chicken and waffles. Egged on by my dear friends, I dance suggestively on the table. Suge Knight is there and sees the brilliance that is my dancing and invites me to star in his next protege's music video. Fame and slutty outfits and yells of "I knew my love of fried chicken would pay off!" ensue.

L.A., here we come!

I'm Thankful For...

1) Meghan. Because she would literally kill someone for me. She even said it. (Just kidding, possible detective from the future!)

2) My parents for the U-Haul they are bringing to me on Friday. And, you know. For the cash and like love and stuff? And also for the blue eyes. Because, damn do these irises sparkle!

3) Junior Mints. HAS THERE EVER BEEN A TREAT MORE DELECTABLE?

4) Gen. Because she apartment hunts for me and spends money that I don't have. (Seriously, Gen. I can't live there.) And for Erin, for saying no for me when I need to say no, and for LFarm for listening, always, and making fun of me, too. And for Rachel, for coming home.

5) For Kristie and our best summer together, yet.

6) You, who read this, and encourage me, and help me on my way.

It's time I started saying thanks.

So. Thanks.

Why Apartment Hunting Sucks

oh hey, everyone. it's been awhile.

mentioned, briefly, in the last post that my roommate skipped town.

truth.

so now here i am, smack dab, SMACK DIBBITY DAB, in the middle of apartment hunting.

i've been telling everyone that i know about my poor, unfortunate plight, because i love talking about myself and complaining is so awesome. and also, i'm fascinating. didn't you know?

but really, really i just want someone to say: "hey! you need an apartment! have mine. it's 900 bucks and has a rooftop pool and a doorman and a kitchen made out of CHOCOLATE!"

so far, this hasn't happened.

but the following things have:

1) on day two of the search, a pigeon shit on my face/dress. i ran into city market to cleanse myself, was mocked by others, and continued on to lunch. later that day i went to look at another place in murray hill (yuck. i know. but girlfriend is desperate.) and on my way there, i stepped in dog shit. and i had to run into a pizza place for napkins to wipe the dog shit off of my foot and it was filled with hot guys, no seriously, hot guys, and one was like "oh that's good luck!". well buddy, no it was not, because the next apartment that i saw was so god damn awful that i almost flung myself out the window.

2) day three of the apartment hunt was muggy, hot and digusting, and i went to a sixth floor walk up and was so out of breath and smelly and sweaty that when i sat on this perfectly nice and normal girl's couch, i left a knee sweat stain. knee sweat. not pleasant.

3) also on day three? i went to see a place in chelsea and i thought "ooh yay, nice chelsea, galleries, pretty" but it was really something like the flower district? except i didn't see any flowers, it was just what the cab driver told me (it was hot and sweaty and i didn't want to walk, i didn't wanna) and then i got to the apartment on 28th and i swear to god, it was like the murder house, i heard death metal playing, and there was a man wearing a chain link fence around his neck and it was black, everything was black and grey and metal everywhere and i said "oh hey, no thanks" and then ran out. it was pretty embarrassing, i mean he judged me, i judged him, it was not a good situation.

but...

i saw some places yesterday and they were so wonderful and dreamlike and what do you know, they were in brooklyn, where i think i belong. so we'll see if i get them, because it's kind of like going for a job interview, and let's face it, i ramble and sweat and my handshake is insignificant and clammy. but i tried my hardest, very hardest, to impress upon these people that i'm not a mess!

what a lie.

wish me luck.

Since My Brenna Left Me

My roommate has gone and left me.

Yes, it's true. She's gone, baby, gone.

I didn't even get a "bye, bye, bye".

She claims she's coming back. But that was weeks ago.

She stole my heart and my True Blood Season 1 DVDs.

Oh, the pain.

Since she's been gone (note: this post will be littered with pop song references. I listen to Z100 sometimes, SO SUE ME!), things have fallen apart.

I have decided to write her an open letter (like Candy Spelling!) to guarantee her return.

Dear Brenna,

Please come back. Things aren't good around here without you. I know our fish died, and I know it was my fault because I made fun of him, but that doesn't mean that we should split up. I need you back. I need you back.

In a plea for your return, I have documented a very real and very sad scene that occurred last week after work.

The following is a scene from last week.

INT-BROOKLYN APARTMENT. KITCHEN IS LITTERED WITH DISHES AND STACKS OF UNPAID BILLS. ENTER-CHARMING AND ATTRACTIVE 23 YEAR OLD WOMAN. SHE IS FLUSTERED AND SWEATING.

KELLY (to herself)
OMG, It's so hot in here. I wish Brenna were here so I could ask her how to put on her A/C.
I wish she answered text messages or calls.

KELLY WALKS OVER TO THE KITCHEN SINK AND DRINKS DIRECTLY OUT OF THE FAUCET

KELLY (to herself, always to herself)
Man, I wish Brenna were here to fill up the Brita.

KELLY LOOKS AROUND AND REALIZES THERE ARE FRUIT FLIES EVERYWHERE

KELLY
(screeching)
AAAH! Bugs! I hate bugs!!

SHE RUNS TO THE SINK AND BEGINS THROWING WATER IN THE AIR. SHE GETS SOAKED.

KELLY
AAAH! I need Brenna! I need Brenna! Why are their fruit flies everywhere? I don’t eat FRUIT! Can they come from Gushers??? Ah!!

KELLY WALKS OVER TO THE COUCH, LAYS DOWN IN HER WORK CLOTHES AND FALLS ASLEEP. SHE WAKES UP TWENTY MINUTES LATER.

KELLY
I guess I should make dinner since Brenna’s not here to make me fun Arthur shapes Mac and Cheese. Ooh, I think I have Easy Mac!

KELLY WALKS OVER TO THE CABINET AND REALIZES SHE IS TOO SHORT TO REACH IT. SHE GETS THE STOOL. SHE IS STILL TOO SHORT. SHE GRABS THE BROOM TO KNOCK DOWN HER FOOD.

KELLY
If Brenna were here, she could reach this for me!

KELLY BEGINS TO GRUNT AS SHE TRIES TO MANUEVER THE BROOM TO KNOCK DOWN THE BOX OF EASY MAC. WHILE DOING THIS, SHE FALLS OFF THE STOOL TWICE AND SWALLOWS A FLY.

KELLY
Ugh, this Mac and Cheese better be good.

FINALLY, SHE KNOCKS DOWN THE BOX. IN HER EXCITEMENT, SHE FALLS OFF THE STOOL FOR A THIRD TIME.

KELLY
VICTORY!

KELLY OPENS THE BOX.

KELLY
Nooo!! There’s no more left!

SHE BEGINS TO WAIL, AND RUNS AROUND THE APARTMENT, BANGING ON THE WALLS IN PAIN. SHE STRIPS DOWN TO HER UNDERWEAR AND BRA AND FLINGS HERSELF ONTO THE COUCH, WHERE SHE CRIES HERSELF TO SLEEP.

END SCENE.

Don't make me send Bill Clinton up to Boston to retrieve you like he did with those two journalist chicks.

Come back.

Love,

Kelly