Things I do

A Day in the Mind of an Unproductive Writer

First things first! I need coffee in my mouth now. And vitamins for thought clarity. I really should have stayed in bed a couple more hours and let those thoughts accumulate in my brain a bit more. Then the genius sentence fragments would just fall onto the page. Maybe using my favorite juicer in the whole world and sucking the living juice from kale, spinach, apples, celery, cilantro, and other delectable produce products will energize my brain! Oh hell, who am I kidding? I hate that shit. But I know I’ll hate looking fat and stupid even more while standing in front of a huge group of people next month in that less than flattering bridesmaid dress.  Much to my demise, photos last a lifetime….and it seems it takes a lifetime to write a book…that will eventually last someone else’s lifetime? Too profound. Since I’m already on the topic of double chin photos, I guess there is no avoiding that I need to go run a few miles and go for a vigorous hike to jumpstart the fat burning process. No, but what about my book??? It will have to wait until my fat learns to deplete itself. Writing doesn’t burn as many calories as running up a mountain. Really unfortunate….

4 hours later: I’m really not doing too badly. I have 10 chapters. I think maybe 30 or 35 total would be ideal. I guess it also sort of depends on how long each chapter is too. Shorter is definitely better, since people don’t really like reading anymore anyway. Then that would probably up my chapter count to 50 or more. Yikes! Why am I writing a book if people don’t read? Right, I’m out to prove the dumb bastards wrong and that reading can be fun. THIS IS SPARTA!!!! Ok- enough being weird and concentrate. Where do we even begin? You know I’m just really not too productive after a certain point in the day. I’d estimate I hit that no work zone around the moment I roll out of bed.  I should go to a coffee shop to write. All the Starbucks in LA are filled with writers zoned into their laptops. Didn’t Starbucks make an anti writer law because writers sat at tables the longest and generated the least amount of profit and then the WGA said they were going to sue? I should look into that before committing myself to packing up my laptop and walking over to Starbucks. I should definitely go to the one in Boystown though. The ones close by here always have bums outside and wackos that are constantly walking in and out, and that is far too distracting. More distracting than being at home? Doubtful. Maybe a place with no internet access! Remember that really fancy 3 story McDonalds in San Jose Costa Rica that was built like a really upscale coffee shop and they sold gourmet deserts and stuff? That is NOT a place I would like to go right now….I haven’t seen my roommate in a few days, wonder if he’s ok. Maybe dead? Which would require a search party, so I will not think those types of thoughts and think he just went on vacation….as long as he still pays rent I guess I don’t really mind. What I should care about is implementing a plan of 1000 sit-ups per day. Not now obviously because I’m writing. I can do them later tonight…..I know I’ll probably be too tired then because 1000 sounds like a  lot. Yeah, I can 100% guarantee I’ll do zero. It would be better to find a happy medium between 0 and 1000, but I really don’t think that exists. I’ll just save up for that lipo thing that really isn’t lipo but it sort of is and it can make it look like you have a 6 pack. I’ll use my money I make from my book to pay for that. And pay off my car. And my student loans. How much do people sell books for these days? Don’t think that will be enough…hmmm…better get writing then, so I can start in on the sequel right away! I’ll have to figure out how to publish/find representation though once I get this thing done. I bet that will be ultra tricky, but at least when they ask me I’ll be able to say that I have a follow up book in store (in my mind) already too.  

            This whole thing would be a lot easier if I were at a lake house right now. Then I could relax in a hammock and write all day long. I wouldn’t be tempted by food because I wouldn’t buy any for the lake house. Only organic vegetables and fruit from the local farmer’s market so I can make my daily slime green juice. I could also swim laps in the lake for my daily exercise.  Too bad I can’t go away because I’ve got that audition in a couple of days. I should learn those lines. I’m not really into the film though, based on what I’ve seen. First of all, if you’re really “desperately searching for an actress with a solid background who doesn’t suck! Do they even exist in LA??” then I recommend you should have searched with such vigorous desperation when recruiting the writer because these sides are heinous. This is some of the most poorly written material I have come across in a very long time. “I love looking into your eyes when you sperm inside me,” should never be written in any script….especially when it’s not a porno! I’ll procrastinate studying that material for a bit and focus on my book because that’s where the big bucks will lie. Eventually. Music will surely help this ADD.

            2 hours later: I found the perfect Pandora station designed to enhance creativity, mental clarity, and sense of humor. However, this particular Pandora station did not reduce hunger, so I walked to Trader Joes for naughty junk food, ate it all, cried from shame, and turned on Netflix to watch uplifting documentaries.

Tomorrow is another day.

Will Anyone Ever Have Something Nice to Say About Michigan?

I get it. I haven’t posted one of these things in so long that you have all considered the fact that I:

-Lost my sense of humor

-Was abducted by a Canadian drug cartel

-Converted to Amishism and subsequently may no longer use the computer or internet.

-Was a victim of plastic surgery gone severely wrong and will forever remain in hiding.

-Post false Tweets about working because I really got too poor and moved back to Nebraska where I herd cattle on the family farm.

-Found an extra wealthy gentleman caller, so I no longer have any need for a creative outlet because an excessive amount of money really can buy happiness.

-Decided to pick up smoking crack on Sunset Blvd as new hobby simply because it’s easier.

-Got extra famous and have no time for average folk.

-Hopped a plane to Aruba and haven’t looked back, since lounging on a beach all day is far preferable to any sort of work.

-Died

While there are some really fantastic ideas embedded in that list, there is zero validity to any of them…I think. I truly am just one overworked and underpaid broad who hasn’t been able to find the mere minutes to throw one of these together for my lovely support system. It may be easiest to start right where I left off, so here is a blog dedicated to my month spent in Michigan working on a feature film.

9 Things I Never Expected to Happen in Michigan…But Totally Did

1. Racism Amongst Squirrels I witnessed an all white squirrel and a completely black squirrel battle it out on a fallen tree branch. Am I trying to connect some significant symbolism between the races of squirrels and humanity? No. It was just weird because I had only seen brown squirrels previously, and I want people to know that it actually happened.
2. Champagne Showers I had somehow missed the champagne shower phase during my college partying days despite the fact every rapper on the face of the earth continues to drone on about the experiences in their finest musical masterpieces. However, my CSV (Champaign Shower Virginity) was stolen by a 350-pound man who likes to go by the name “Big Spoon”…..twice.
3. Amnesia Night You may be thinking, Amnesia? Isn’t that for old people? To which I would like to respond, ”Not in Boyne Falls, Michigan.” The one and only hole-in-the-wall local bar promoted this event as a once-a-week opportunity to forget all of life’s pains with $1.25 for draft beer AND a shot of Schnapps. Anyone in LA or NYC is probably drooling at the thought of this, not because Bud Light and Schnapps are delish, but because big city bars are ridiculously expensive. I’ve even dropped more than $1.25 for extra ice in my cocktail! Sure that’s cheap, but how do you make 2 shitty drinks taste less shitty? Our solution, as per my boss’ recommendation, was Shoot the Root…which just made it all taste like root beer and rainbows!
4.  “Get outta here Chipmunk” was said numerous times a day by not only myself, but all other members of the production team were continually chasing, cornering, and hollering this remark at the pests. It had never even occurred to me that life would necessitate saying that phrase even once….unless you reside in real deep country parts where animals gots a many rights as dem humans…but I was guilty of shouting this expression a minimum of 8 times per day. Unfortunately, when the little creatures are scurrying across your feet, or snacking at the human food table, or climbing into your backpack, nothing more eloquent comes out (unless you count “Scat chipmunk!!” because I said that one a lot too). I guess that’s what happens when country rats are running rampant in the woods….and the homeowner forgot to mention that he feeds the rodents on a daily basis, so the grounds were a home front to hundreds.
5.  A Real Lady’s Woman I went to a bar with 3 of my attractive male colleagues, and the female bartender they all had their sights set on was far more interested in getting in my pants compared to any of theirs. Every time one of the guys would ask her a question, she would direct her response to me…and then wink. I somehow ended up getting her number by the end of the evening as well. This is by no means my way of suggesting that I want to swap teams. I’m just merely mentioning that I discovered I’m a magnet for lesbians and really old creepy guys (who also gave me their number that night).
6. Processed Food Death I officially ate enough awful junk food to turn me away from it forever. After 30 days of repulsive catering and fast food, I decided to finally learn how to cook real meals, and I bought a juicer (you’ll never be able to take the Hollywood out of me!!) In much sadder news, my body may never recover from that rough month (sorry future husband where ever you may be).
7.  Party til the Break of Dawn…and then Some Shattering any previous record of mine, I stayed out drinking until 10am. The shooting schedule we were operating under was called splits, which means we would all show up on set late in the afternoon and not get home until 3, 4, 5 in the morning. There is really nothing like starting the party on a day off at 4:30am and watching the sun rise with a tall boy of PBR.
8. I learned how to be a 2^nd AD!!! …and that I probably never want that job ever again. I was essentially a glorified babysitter with a hint of office bitch. It could have been a lot more fun if they let me dress like a sexy secretary or slutty under-aged babysitter, but I had to settle for disintegrating jeans, V-necks, and smelly running shoes. There is no need to point out how unsightly said clothing made me look, which brings me to:
9. Rejection I was flat out told: “I’m not attracted to you at all. Never. I like hot girls who are kinda stupid…..But you’re a really good kisser. I’m pretty confused about how good you are at that. I mean: seriously. There are a lot of really hot girls out there who are bad at making out, but you don’t have that problem at all.”  Hearing that has absolutely given me a new perspective on life, and I now wake up each day and shout praises of thanks and gratitude that I’m not plagued with the disease that makes females hot and horrible kissers. You should all count your blessings too…unless you happen to be stricken with that particular illness. 

Ask Alli: Spring Edition

Lets face it. Everyone is a hipster at heart and desires to be in the know and like of the latest trends while they’re still lame, ugly, and unpopular (although this tactic rarely applies to picking spouses….sorry 99.9% of the population). Concoct that motto with a whole lot of shameless self-promotion on my end, and you have this here poorly edited post. However, you all loved it last time, so please cue some sort of noise for: Ask Alli

Hi,

Why you not write on them internets for so long?

-Lonely without you.

Dear Lonely-No-More,

            Obvi people who do not notify the world of their every move with a strong online presence are all the types who sit at home on the couch consuming the weight of a kid goat in raw cookie dough balls while petting their furless cats named Sir Meow-A-Lot. This is what I’ve done with my life anyway….

            Actually, that’s a lie. I do not have the fortunate of being bizarre enough to pull off such an amazing lifestyle.  My disappearance has mainly been work related. (No Dad, the CIA did not whisk me away to some top-secret spy training camp so I may master the art of disguise and killing). Thankfully the lean era of work has come to an end, and there is an abundance of entertainment industry jobs for me to pretend to know how to competently complete & snatch up before the more well qualified individuals even get a shot.

Forever with you,

A

Dear “AliceIn Wonderbed”,

What are all these so-called “films” about? I’m pretty sure I saw a flash of your side boob covered by your golden locks on a late night cable special….did you finally make the switch to taking off your clothes for money? If so, I totally just won the on-going bet at my office! $150 in my pocket….oooooh yeahhhhhh!!!

-Fratfully Yours

Dear Douche-O-Rama,

I tried signing up for porn once and they said I just didn’t have the “star” quality they were looking for, so no, that was not my brazen body prancing about the background of your favorite late night show. My most recent work has mainly been behind the camera, and I have specifically avoided any cameo appearances, so my nude side boobs are two that you will most likely not see for some time. I’m really excited about all of the projects, but there are restrictions as to how much information I may divulge. However, the basic run-down is as follows (this is the bit where I go all out on the self promotion): The horror feature film ‘Blood Rites’ I shot in Nebraska recently made its premiere and the producers are in the works of securing distribution (I play the token crazed cult girl in Amish clothing), My first ever feature filmto produce  ’Hunt the Maguffin’ is currently in the editing room…so yay!, The sci-fi/horror feature film ‘Way Down in Chinatown’ I’ve been involved with for almost a year now is currently filming in LA, I spent a few days on a comedy short ‘The Interview’ with an awesome new group of people that I would love to work with again, I worked on a made for TV Christmas movie which has been a dream of mine since I was a wee being, I’ve been collaborating with another producer on a web series that will hopefully blow everyone’s socks off, ‘Wave Goodbye’ is still going strong and there is a very good chance you will see a character come into play who oddly resembles this girl- so definitely stay tuned into the series for her, and I am currently out of California for the month of June working as the 2nd AD on a feature film. 

Sincerely,

AliceIn Michigan

Little Pickle,

MICHIGAN!?! Why in the hell are you there? I hear Detroit is where all the gangsters and thugs riot,…sounds very dangerous to me. I’m also quite offended you went to Michigan before coming to Nebraska again. I am considering redacting any inheritance you may be entitled to after this little stunt missy.

You Worry Me,

Gma

P.S. What does 2nd AD mean? Sounds sexual. 

Dearest Most Favorite Grandmother,

 I sincerely apologize for not staying current with my Tweets, Facebook posts, and blogs, but the internet and phone service up in the quaint village known as Petoskey is horribly shitty. I have entered land of the lumberjacks, and the gangsta-thug type is rather scarce, so I run a minimal chance of getting capped by a concealable semi-automatic. On the opposite end of the spectrum, we shoot in a beautiful 5,000 sq ft log cabin right next door to Ernest Hemmingway’s old place, and we see his grandson, Ernie, fishing and sitting on his back porch reading a book every day. I’m sure little old Ernie is also fully aware of what an overly cliche lifestyle he leads.

The entire cast and crew are beautiful on the outside (three thousand cheers for working with sexy men)….& in. Therefore, I am having the time of my life while filming. We live in lovely little ski condos, and my hunky cameramen roommates and I come home at 4am after shooting to sip PBR while watching the sunrise. Some would even venture to say that I’m living the dream. As for the 2nd AD (Assistant Director) credit…no sexual favors were needed to secure that position…only lies. I’ve decided that faking it is the only real way to rise to the top. “Where is the top?” you may ask, and my answer is that I have no idea, but I’m truly enjoying the ride there. 

Love,

The Littlest Pickle That Loves You the Most

How Movie Stars Get Free-ish of Drinks

It’s a running joke (I use the term lightly since some people are more offended than amused) amongst my LA crowd that I possess the uncanny ability to get a preposterous amount of attention and, more importantly, free alcohol whenever I go out on the town. Some of those people who are not under the trance of my bewitchery & charm are probably my friend, Nancy.

 Nancy is the type of gal who makes it her second career to find a husband, and therefore goes out every single night in search of Mr. Right. I believe her intense search has been underway for 2 years now and has yielded some fair results. Unfortunately, all the really good ones already had girlfriends or wives…except that one porn star guy…no, not Ron Jeremy…the other one.

 Anyway, Nancy isn’t a huge fan of yours truly, and this is the best explanation I can surmise as to why. Immediately upon hearing that one night I got 1. Free flowing specialty drinks from a bartender (which equated to about five), 2. Convinced said bartended to supply a handful of other individuals at the bar with the same free alcohol parks, 3. Got a ride home via a driving service in exchange for a hug, 4. Got the exact same driver to pick up my roommate and me from our apartment at 3am for a ride to the Roosevelt Hotel for some high quality burgers….also gratis, and 5. Then hailed a cab back home in exchange for absolutely nothing, Nancy exploded, “There are times when I go out looking like a movie star….people would seriously think Why is that celebrity sitting at the bar all alone? Those nights I may get one drink from a guy. If I’m really lucky sometimes a bartender will feel bad and comp a drink. NEVER is anyone in Los Angeles EVER allowed free cab rides! I’ll even tell them “I have $15 please take me as far as that will go,” and they speed off leaving me on the corner. THEN Allison shows up looking like a lumberjack and gets EVERYTHING. Free drinks, free rides, free anything she wants! Life is so unfair!!!” I would normally take great offense at that statement, but I will give Nancy a little credit because I was looking rather butchy that night in a dirty & paint splattered men’s flannel shirt with wooly boots…but I made sure ample cleavage was still visible (my not-so-secret trick to seduction). However, after learning that free drinks are her Achilles’ heel, I now make it my mission to excessively flaunt complimentary alcohol whenever I go out with Nancy (surprisingly…not all that often).

 Let’s face it though. This is Hollywood and some nights only the Hollyweird freak shows performers surface. How’s a girl to get free whiskey then? Answer:  Flowtab

 Flowtab? Wut dat? is what you all are probably thinking (or my more eloquent readers anyway), so I will simply state that it is my new favorite app on the iPhone.

 iPhone? Wut dat? is what you all are….never mind (I sometimes forget that my target audience is no longer all the cows I had to befriend growing up on the farm).

 Flowtab is insanely simple. You just download the free app, pretend you’re texting a plethora of stunning male models while you are really putting in a drink order for yourself at the bar, and then you may sit back and relax while you wait for the concoction to be delivered to your table. That’s how I do it anyway. The server will then bring the drink over and say, “Which one of you fine ladies is Allison?” I usually then raise my hand, act really surprised, maybe even blush a little, and look around to see if I can catch a glimpse of my secret admirer. All my friends totally love playing the Guess which guy sent over this drink game too! The server knows fully well what tricks I have up my sleeve, but the app also allows me to tip them generously when I place the order and home gurl bar maids ain’t gonna ruin dat dolla-dolla-tip-flowtab!

Moral of the story? Seek sweet revenge against all of your ridiculously good-looking friends with Flowtab. You’ll appear more desirable than any of them, everyone in the bar will envy you, and you’ll never have to wait stupidly long periods for a drink at the club again.

If You Flirt, They Will Come

The Results are in!!!

If you did not catch my last post please properly educate yourselves by going back and reading it, so you will be up to date on what is going on here. This is the 2^nd part in a 2 part series, meaning you will be confused as confusion comes if you don’t read part 1. It’s not going to hack off that much time from your total lifetime experience, so just do it. Plus I’ll give you a special prize for reading it (the code on how to redeem the reward is hidden within the last post)!

Again, I cannot thank everyone enough for taking the time out of their assumingly busy lives and responding to my personality trait ranking survey used in this 2 part (Ok- I’m done with that now) blog series.

Actually….that last sentence was false. I can put a limitation on my amount of gratitude to those who attempted to fill out the survey, but who ultimately failed….which was an embarrassingly high number America. I generally found the errors to be more amusing than annoying, but it did irk me a wee bit that I had to throw out so many responses due to improper protocol. #ScientistProblems 

            My mom started off the downward spiral by immediately responding to my mass email with “I don’t get it. Am I answering these about you or me?” Yes, mom, please tell me how good you think I am at sex on a 1-10 scale and if you could also let me know what you think my overall quality of life is, I would really appreciate it. I soon realized it’s not entirely her fault that she is unable to competently complete a short survey; apparently it runs in the family. I somehow managed to accidentally add my grandma to the email list and was absolutely horrified when I saw her reply message pop into my inbox. I let it sit there for a few days until I felt I was mentally prepared to see how my mom’s mom rated herself on far too many personal notes. I actually contemplated entirely deleting the message without reading it to save my mind from any frightening mental images, but in the name of true science and proper experiment technique, I read the letter. “My ipad won’t let me put numbers in your message, but I think I’m very generous.” Cue huge exhale of relief! That was until I scrolled down a pinch more to see that she had in fact included ratings for nearly all the categories. Perhaps her initial response was simply implying that she wanted to give herself a higher rating than 10 for Generosity, but didn’t really know how to go about doing it, so she just expected me to factor in the additional points for her. I will say though, that grandma is one confident broad! She gave herself a 10 on EVERY category….except Kissing- which got a 1, Sex got female, and the section labeled Male or Female was answered with “I am friends with both, but I am a female”, and she scolded me for asking her Age by writing “Not a polite question Allison”.  As much as I would have loved to include her responses, I don’t know how fair it would be to all the other individuals of the world that Grammie was unaware the numbers 2-9 also existed on the spectrum. Don’t worry though, I greatly applaud her efforts and will still love her. 

My mom also came back 2 weeks later for the redemption round by properly rating herself on all of the options. However, I found a mathematical error of sorts when it came to the lifetime spent in relationships/marriage area. According to dear mum, she has spent nearly 94% of her life attached. Since I highly doubt she started serious dating at the age of 3, my other best guess is that Mama liked to share the love and dated multiple people at the same time over the years. Classy.

            Other than my fine genetic suppliers inability to properly fill out a piece of paper, I also noted that single men in the 20s range had issues with my probing as well. While a majority of them were quick to dish out 9s and 10s in the Sex and Kissing sections, they were also not hasty to entirely skip filling out the Age and Time Spent in Relationships bracket. Maybe they all just got so very excited by the thought of sex that they had to do it right away?…and that’s why they didn’t finish the closing bit. There is no scientific evidence behind that last statement; only me rationalizing a trend.  Now that I am done tearing everyone’s intellectual abilities to shreds, below you will find my findings. Also, if any of you see any correlation within the results feel free to pass them along to me because I’m still here scratching my head over the mystery of this one. Love is a very queer thing.

I took everyone’s information and created different permutations that scored each individual in 2 separate areas. The first being a 1-10 rating on how spectacular overall the person is in respect to relationships with others (1= unloveable, 5=making people happy in the middle of the road, 10=ain’t no better lova). The second set is how well the individual utilizes their loving abilities on the classic elementary school grading scope (A= very efficient at spreading the love, B= dedicated at giving their love C= average, D= poor, F=failure). Just to reiterate my motives behind this entire process, I set out to prove that the less time one spends attached to a mate, the better lover material they are. Here are the most noteworthy things I found:

• I ranked as the Venus champion, the cream of the crop, perfect 10, etc., when it came to how well I do in relation to romancing men…as it should be since this is my article and I gave myself the best scores on almost everything. On the opposite end, I received a F  for how well I commit myself to relationships. These results were a real confidence booster to prove I was on the track to success with my hypothesis! Things kept looking better too! 
• The next highest score came in at 7.5 and this individual also received a F rating for the amount of time he has spent attached. While I would never want to dish out too much dirt on this guy, I will say that he has spent only .006% of his life “officially” with another man, which was by far the lowest percentage out of everyone. Then things took a turn for the worst….
•  My #2 guy had to come in and screw it all by ranking 7.5 for his lover skills and he got a C for how well he’s able to share his greatness with others. Thanks a lot **name censorship** for ruining my theory…..
• The snowball effect really started to kick in and things kept getting worse (as far as proving my speculation went). The next scores in line were a whole messy mix, and there really was little correlation between any of them. Truthfully, there was absolutely no sense to the madness at all. Even the lowest lover score overall of 1 earned a C, and I had two people with 5s score A+s, and then my brain started to hurt, so I just gave up on trying to figure out love and relationships. My new philosophy is “If you flirt, they will come.” I figure with this new mindset, I’ll be un-single in no time!  

Love Potion No. 97.9%

                I’m getting to the point in my life (it’s probably a combination of unemployment and low bank funds) where I find the only option I have to turn to anymore is astrology. My fate is already laid out in the stars, so I’ll be damned if I‘m going to ignore that obvious approach to answering all life’s questions. The Libra Twitter updates I’m subscribed to have been very insightful and give me hourly memos on the many benefits of my birth-time sign.  Apparently, I am full of charisma, can’t make a decision to save my life…but I’ll eventually pick an option…and then change my mind 17 more times before ultimately deciding that indecisiveness is the best route, I have zero interest in politics and current events (*gasp* I bet Steve will be greatly saddened to know all his lectures on mass genocide in China and corrupt government officials were a total waste of time on my 7 year old ears), I care a lot about how I look and how others perceive me, but I am never really interested in their well being, but my class and charm cover all evidence of my total lack of empathy. The biggest shock came when I read that all Libras are in Love with the idea of being In Love….hahahaha. NO FREAKING WA—ait….wait. Now that I think about it, there is a lot of validity to this statement.

            When I run to the store and have the option of throwing on a dirty baggy men’s sweatshirt or a low-cut v-neck t-shirt, I will always choose the asset showcasing wear in case I run into my one and only true soul mate next to the banana stand. It’s sadly true. All I do is driven by this thought that is branded deep in my subconscious simply because of the way the stars were aligned the day I popped my head out of my mom’s privates. In less disturbing imagery, Allison’s True Love Safari Quest is a great tactic for anyone interested in getting me to partake in activities I normally loathe. “C’mon A! Lets go to the glitter & pink vodka night at the club…your future husband could be working there!” Ultimately, I will bitch and groan but then grudgingly oblige because I would be really pissed if I somehow missed meeting the one man on the face of the earth made for me (I have a feeling it’s Chace Crawford though).

            I know this news is probably a huge upset for most considering the fact I do not spend so much time in relationships with others (my career, yes, but rarely humans). Annoyingly so, far more than a majority of my life has been spent in Beyoncé’s Single Lady posse. 97.9% to be exact.

            Even though it is quite easy to get sucked into the unfavorableness of that statistic, I refuse to look at the negative aspects of that (probably depression causing) percentage! Just because I have only spent 2.1% of my life attached to a man does not necessairly mean I’m bad at relationships or that I lack the ability to act as a top-notch girlfriend. I’m really quite the amazing catch. To be quite honest, I feel I‘m far better at relationshipping than a lot of people who are the perpetual dater types. Just because I don’t brag and constantly talk myself up to potential mates doesn’t mean I’m not always thinking about how great I am…..while judging everyone else.

            Thanks to Brad Pitt, Aaron Sorkin, and Jonah Hill (amongst a slew of others) for their film Moneyball (worthy of 6 Oscar nods and 0 wins. Next year Jonah…next year is your time to shine with 21 Jump Street…ok so maybe not, but you’ll get my vote as long as Ryan Gosling steers clear of any noms…and of course all of that is dependant upon whether or not I’m invited into the Academy…so don’t put all of your eggs in that basket J. Hill), I decided the game of love could also have a mathematical equation attached in order to rate one’s loveability. ***Spoiler Alert*** For anyone who may have stupidly missed the film, Brad Pitt ate a lot of food, asked Jonah Hill to use some alien mathematics procedure to predict how well each baseball player would do on his team, and he put up with Philip Seymour Hoffman who stood around and acted like an asshole in tight baseball clothes.  

Therefore, I also created a love formula in order to compare one’s relationship abilities to their lifetime spent in an official relationship/marriage. I put my bets on the odds that people who spend less time romantically linked are actually better qualified overall at dating/marriage than those who incessantly dabble in the hobby. A big thanks is due to my wonderful family members and friends for filling out the survey I mass mailed asking them to properly rate themselves on relationship skill sets (if you did not complete it, expect some intense hate mail very shortly). However, none of the lab rats had any idea what my intentions were with these questions, so I truly appreciate their cooperation in supplying highly intrusive and overly personal data. I was also sure to poll a wide sample variety from all over the globe, so there would be no technical errors in the numbers (I’ve done enough science hypothesis projects to know the proper protocol…although I’m pretty much guaranteed an A+ with this experiment).

            The following is a copy of the love survey I mass mailed.  Feel free to complete the questions for yourself, so you will have a better idea of what category you fall into when I reveal the results next week! ***Semi-Spoiler Alert: It is completely possible to rate one’s likely hood for success with the opposite sex (or same sex if they’re into that), so you will definitely not want to skip out on reading next week!!

TOP SECRET PERSONALITY SURVEY

Please rate yourself on the categories below on the following 1-10 scale. 

-1 meaning: This does not describe me at all/I’m not interested in this matter/I’m very bad at this

-10 meaning: This completely describes me/This interests me a lot/I’m very, very, very good at this

-Everything else falls between accordingly 

-Generous

-Listening abilities

-Putting others before yourself

-Fun/interesting personality

-Kissing

-Communicative (able to easily express needs/wants and easily understands others)

-Spontaneous

-Neediness

-Overall quality of life and happiness

-Passionate

-Sense of humor

-Forgiving (able to let things go/handles disappointments with ease)

-Sex

-Trusting

Age (in years & months): 

 Total amount of time spent in official relationships (yes, marriage counts) (in years & months): 

***If you’re truly interested in all of this, you may email me (AllisonLaurenScott@gmail.com) your scores, and I will include them with my mass-finding report next week. I will also reply with your very own personal rating of “Lovability by A”  (All judgements aside. Only pure facts).

Beware of What’s Creeping in the Background of Your Favorite Shows

            I will try to make this article relatable to everyone even though it deals with a topic that nearly all entertainment industry people are familiar with, but little seems to be known about the company to the outside world. I’m referring to Central Casting.  It is a service utilized by thousands each day in Hollywood to try and snag a spot prowling the background of prime time television shows or in the next box office breakout film. Job loss and drastic cuts in unemployment benefits will make people do crazy things…like selling their soul or signing up for Central Casting.

            I made my way to their offices during the allotted scheduled registration hours this past week. I had expected a line, so I figured arriving 30 minutes prior to the doors opening would be sufficient. However, I was somewhat baffled when there were already 70 or so patrons standing in front of me. Oh, and proudly standing they were! All clearly dressed in their premium closet selections, the background artist hopefuls all sported bright eyes and bushy tails that were filled with dreams of being part of the chosen group. Little did they know that Central does not discriminate, and they accept all registrations. As the orientation runner so eloquently put it, “We really take anyone. Some days we need dead bodies, other times we like people who look like they’ve abused meth their entire lives, and carnies are another big group we’re always trying to recruit.” Everyone’s spirits reminded me of elementary school picture days, but I think a lot of parents would be highly disappointed with what their adult children pulled for a wardrobe selection for their Central Casting picture day. The styles ranged from dollar store suits and ties to favorite denim cut off tops to compliment the green mohawk. My personal favorite was the daddy (yes, he was in fact a father and even brought along his little baby and baby mama) who sported a metallic bronze button down shirt that was so shiny I could see my own refection in the fabric. I truly believe the top was woven together with all the left over Christmas tinsel. Nevertheless, it was a very fancy choice. Baby mama was also quite striking with her zebra striped hair and chartreuse tube top that flaunted the 48EEEs.

            While we sat around for hours waiting to be next in line for a photo and while our legal paperwork was being processed, my true inner creepy-people-watcher got her monthly fill by eavesdropping on nearly everyone in the entire room. The following are my personal favorite bits of dialogue from the day.

•  Highly overweight Russian woman in her 40 who could not read a lick of English and barely spoke the language who sat next to me and kept getting me in trouble by asking me the most basic questions on the form (like her race, sex, weight, shoe size, etc.):

 “This thing here- nudity. It mean naked, no? Of course I get naked! Yes, yes! They like my naked body.” 

• Black man in his 60s who continued to grill the young female sitting next to him, who relocated to LA from Brooklyn 2 weeks ago, about the concept of luck and how it pertains to becoming eligible for the acting union:

 (After a 3-4 minute pause in their conversation) “Now what size shoe do you wear?…..Oh 7.5? That’s too bad. You know for your proportions, you look like the type who would have smaller feet. That’s really too bad…you see for some reason I always get boxes from Hong Kong sent to my house with the nicest pairs of women’s shoes, but they are always 5 and a half. Of course I never send them back, so now I have closets full of the nicest female shoes. Sure they come from Hong Kong, but they’re real nice quality. Really elegant and classy. “

•  A rather round and homely looking woman in her early 30s who wore a nondescript outfit and reading glasses:

 (She raised her hand during the orientation secession for this question) “Now for the body measurements, do I actually have to write the numbers down? I always have to buy my clothes online because the sizes are weird, so I know no one in wardrobe would have anything for me. Can I just cross them all out and write ‘Too fat. Must special order clothes’?”

•  Across the room a male in his early 40s that definitely fit the stereotypical Midwest man type was engrossed in the most in-depth conversation with a young female in her 20s (coincidentally named Allison…she spoke so loudly I think everyone in the place knew her damn name) about how he and his wife just had a miracle baby, and everything in life was going really well, and they were so happy and loved baby Ryan Michael. There was a momentary pause in their conversation, so he resumed chatting with this:

 “Yeah my dad named me after John Wayne, but I knew my dad about as well as I knew John Wayne. I never even met John Wayne if that tells you much. Pa left when I was 13. He was always beating us kids and stuff before then, so I guess we weren’t too sad when he was gone. I used to be sad about it, but then I realized it’s his loss for not being able to know me, and I really didn’t lose much at all by not knowing him. He was an alcoholic…” The story continued on, but I tuned him out at this point because it felt far too weird to listen in….poor loudmouth Allison having to deal with that one.

•  I was forced to sit next to the most ridiculous pair of Asian ladies ages 26 and 27 (my eyes may have wandered over to the D.O.B line on their paperwork to get those exact numbers) who had the most absolute warped concept of reality I have ever witnessed. They were also both really catty and incessantly complained:

 “I guess I get to have my cake and eat it too! I thought dating 2 guys at once would be hard, but it actually works out great. I’ll probably break up with both of them soon though because this made me realize I can pretty much have any guy in the world that I want.”

A statement in retaliation to hearing that one of their friends is dating a guy who isn’t what they consider to be mature:“It’s not your fault she’s still with him. You can’t make people like that realize how dumb they’re being other than telling them, “It’s either your boyfriend or your best friend. Pick now.” I know why she’s doing this though. I mean, she’s 29, which means she is almost 30, and that’s when girls start getting old and desperate. They would rather stick with a guy who sucks thinking they can change him rather than finding a new man, but I guess when you’re old and 30 no one even wants you anymore. Disgusting. I need to find my soul mate before then.”  

 I can’t believe no one shared this information with me before! I guess the day was not a complete waste of time then, and I’m now taking soul mate applications over the next 7 years before I become 30 & disgusting for anyone who may be interested. 

Look Ma! Imma Gym Rat Now!

If there is one topic that has been completely extorted by health magazines, online blogs, and idiots with zero creativity, it is proper etiquette at the gym. Unfortunately, these articles cover the same no-brainer information in a carbon copy format. In the reckless and fearless abandonment I accomplish all tasks in life, I figured: why not take a stab at this seemingly impossible task? It’s not like I have anything to lose (my writing credibility is far too minimal to constitute).

Most people choose to write about how annoying it is when others yell like The Hulk to prove how buff they are, stupid sluts who text, read magazines, and take naps on the lifting machines, and gym rats doused in enough cologne to cleanse the stench of Mexico, but who opt to leave their sweat drippings on the treadmill along with the reek of Axe. As always, I would like to point out less obvious, but equally disturbing issues with the gym. (More specifically LA Fitness on Hollywood).

TOP 5 OVER USED GYM TIPS, WHY THEY’RE WRONG, AND WHAT I THINK THE WORLD SHOULD BE BITCHING ABOUT INSTEAD:

1. World’s Gym Tip: Don’t Grunt to Prove How Strongman You Are in Order to Get Some Action. Go ahead and grunt and groan away. Just don’t be under the impression your noises are impressive or turn us on. If you really want to be sexy, you should be making orgasm noises as you max out on those shoulder shrugs. I use this tactic quite often and totally get hit on all the time.

A’s Gym Tip: Don’t Hire a Personal Trainer to Get Some Action. Please make your trainer give you at least a 10 foot radius of personal space when working out. While I am a huge fan of getting frisky, I don’t want to be forced to witness your $100 per hour gigolo giving “pointers” and “support” in the form of ass touching, chest poking, and excessive caressing.

2. World’s Gym Tip: Don’t Wear Inappropriate Clothing. I am begging you to please do wear malfunctioning or inappropriate attire, so I may continue putting forth zero effort into my wardrobe selections. No one will be scoffing at girl dressed in head to toe tie-dye (me) when female stair stepping next to her has a nipple peaking from her too tight sports bra.

A’s Gym Tip: Don’t Wear Clothing with Beer Branding. I’m usually not one to hate on apparel choices, but the t-shirts decorated with logos of my favorite brews only make me think about how much more I would rather be consuming a 12 pack of advertised beer over straining my neck trying to gain a beautiful 180 line on my tricep extension. Please be courteous of those with IPA addictions, and save your alcohol threads for other social interactions, like church or a family wedding.

3. World’s Gym Tip: Don’t Violate the Locker Room with Unnecessarily Prolonged Amounts of Nakedness.I am strong supporter of nudist tendencies, so if you want to parade your dimply, saggy ass about the space, be my guest. If you’ve got it, flaunt it. You just can’t harbor any negative feelings when people stare for unnecessarily prolonged amounts of time.

A’s Gym Tip: Don’t Violate My Personal Space with Talk. I understand that when we were all wee beings, the playground was the place to associate, and the gym is kind of like a playground for adults. However, I do not show up to this grown-up playground of sorts to make friends; I do it so I can sound cool when I’m telling my real friends what I do with my life. If you find it absolutely necessary to approach me, please stalk me out of the building and into the dark creepy parking garage and wait until I’m about to hop in my car to strike up the conversation. I think all females can agree with me on this one; it’s far less annoying than chatting when I’m concentrating really hard on hip abductions.

4. World’s Gym Tip: Hey Weirdo, Don’t Monopolize Machines. If you would rather take a quick cat nap on the ab rocker over crunching away, go right ahead. You pay for your gym membership, so you are entitled to utilize the equipment however you please.

A’s Gym Tip: Don’t Run Weird. If you’re going to use the equipment, at least make a halfhearted attempt at not being distractingly awkward. It’s inconsiderate when you are clumsily striding on the treadmill with spastic arms flailing all over place because I can not NOT watch you. Since I become overly consumed your dramatic running actions, I, in turn, loose my footing and fall off the freaking elliptical. Please find some other way to be the in the spotlight you attention seeking whores.

5. World’s Gym Tip: Wipe Your Sweat off the Equipment.Yes, I will admit that this one is fairly gross. However, nothing is stopping your lazy ass from wiping down the bench press bench before you use it and contaminate it with your own disgusting bodily fluids.

A’s Gym Tip: Don’t Sweat. Let’s face it, sweating is not only hard, but it makes us tired and look ugly. No one really cares about exercising these days anyway. Working out has morphed into a social bragging right, and that is why people do the little check-in apps at the gym, Tweet about their intense spinning class, and take cell phone photos of their naked bodies in bathroom mirrors; it is all just a plea for peer acceptance. I, on the other hand, have found a way to beat the system with a little program called Photoshop. Thanks to this fine technological advancement, all fatties have an equal opportunity to look like celebrities without counting calories or BMI ratios. I just show up at the gym and stand around in my retro biker shorts at the juice bar drinking an XL iced mocha caramel chocolate chip latte with extra whip (wheat-grass is just not my thing). None of my Facebook friends have even noticed I’m well over 300 pounds at this point because I am so skilled at Photoshopping myself a sexy six pack toned bod.

Social Media Overload

This past week, I received yet another friend request from a non-real life friend on Yelp. This gent, Peter L., had the following message accompany his friendship proposal, “I really like your reviews! (I’ve only written 3) I totally agree with you on Motor Village LA! (Obviously they’re a bad dealership! They only have 2 positive comments on their page and they are clearly fake accounts created by the dealership.)” 

How has the world turned into a place where I receive friend requests from people I don’t know on a website that I mainly utilize to find doctors & restaurants with the best happy hour deals? I cannot be bothered with this kind of shit on Yelp because I’m far too bombarded with more important social media outlets that will raise public awareness of my awesomeness…which will in turn skyrocket me to stardom. That’s what Hollywood told me anyway. I really don’t care to reminisce about food poisoning experiences from the taco truck downtown. Ok?

However, becoming famous via the internet is a lot harder than anyone could have ever anticipated.

My overwhelming online presence all started back in 2006 when I created my first Facebook account…and learned the addictive power that stalking people can hold over one’s life. I had only dabbled in MySpace previously, so spending each day clicking through pictures of all the hot guys I never talked to because they were too hot was completely liberating. I felt so connected to my peers, beautiful people I wanted to meet but wasn’t cool enough to know, and the world as a whole. My passion for spending hours in front of the computer on Facebook was far more exhilarating than anything I had experienced in the past with AIM, Mavis Beacon, or The Sims. One year and 1000+ so-called-friends later (mostly people I met while drunk at parties and immediately hunted down as soon as I stumbled through the house door), I realized the site wasn’t as fun after a breakup and having to look at my ex boyfriend’s happy status and photo updates with his new girlfriend wife thing, feeling sad when he untagged himself in the photos of us together, and trying really hard to one-up everything he did by taking far too many pictures to document my experiences so they looked extra legitimate. “Can you just take a photo of me in front of Mt. Everest, so it looks like I climbed it? For Facebook. Thanks.” Nevertheless, I deleted my account because I had made making the ultimate Facebook profile a higher priority than doing chemistry homework, which whoever paid for my tuition (me) did not appreciate.

Flash forward to present day, March of 2012. I recreated a Facebook profile when I moved to LA as an actor networking resource….which I utilize it for those purposes some of the time. No need to worry though; I’ve mostly given up stalking and trying to one-up everyone. Sadly, I’m nowhere near fantastic enough to have my own Facebook Fan Page, which is what all other actors really seem to care about in Hollywood. “Wait…you’re telling me you just have a regular account to add friends…LAAAAME! How do you expect the top directors and producers to see you?” I have a Twitter,but have yet to figure out the # and @ system, and I have absolutely no clue how to gain followers without following thousands of uninteresting people who flood my homepage with their less than clever Tweets. I was also told it’s absolutely vital for actors to have a YouTube account, so I got on that one right away! On the flip side, video-posting consistency is not my strong suit. I have the most fabulous ideas in the whole world with…not-the-best execution method (writing genius scripts on sticky notes and putting them in my underwear drawer). I frequently get requests for LinkedIn, the site for professionals, but….am I even a professional? Definitely not. In less depressing news, I have been doing really well with this Tumblr and have been going steady with it for almost a year now! I will forever be in debt to the random Mormon actor who told me to start one to keep everyone updated on my acting endeavors….which I sort of did, but not so much. However, I would love to BranchOut (ironically a name of another networking site I consistently get invites for, but always opt to ignore) and write for more legitimate sites (sorry Tumblr), but that takes thought filtering and proper punctuation (not coded in my genetics). Apparently there are circles on Google+ that I need to fill in too, since Google semi-floods my inbox with reminders about these damn things. I don’t plug my IMDb page nearly as much as my many of my fellow actors do. Maybe someone can explain to me the importance of a Starmeter because I still fail to see it’s tangible value. There is something called Pinterest, which sounds so dumb that I haven’t even ventured to check it out. I downloaded the Instagram app on my iPhone, but it makes me feel weird that anyone can see every photo I take. Holy cow, talk about exploiting oneself on the internet! I may start Instagraming though to improve my photography and photo captioning skills. All of this also makes me question whether or not I need to reinstate my MySpace account….I wonder if they still have my profile saved after a 6 year break. I never had Friendster, but it may not hurt to start if it will raise society’s awareness of me. Oh jeeze, am I forgetting any others? I get so nervous at the thought of leaving one out!!

It is clearly far too much work to keep up! How do all the real people in the public eye manage all of this? The tabloids claim they’re too busy snorting coke and downing bottles of vodka at the clubs to even properly get photographed by the paparazzi….let alone manage all these accounts? I really should hire a social networking guru robot to take over the web for me, but those are too expensive. Human publicists may be able to accomplish the same thing, but they also require dollars to operate. Since neither of these are viable options for me, I am going to begin writing to orphaned children abroad and ask them to create numerous social media accounts to Like and Follow all that I do. Problem solved. 

And Over on the Left We Have George Clooney’s Favorite Whore House

There was an absence of a blog last week because my time was far too occupied playing tour guide for my family, and there was not a moment to spare amongst all the fun to type up a wee life tangent. Since not everyone is able to gain a first hand experience of my marvelous hostessing skills, I will instead treat you all to a play-by-play version of what I indulge visitors with when they come to my Hollyhood.

• GET GROPED BY A CELEBRITY! Not only will you be able to see them, but I’ll make sure you get hard core sexual harassment time with some of the big screen’s finest. Martin Scorsese surely got his fill of my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps.
• TOUR THE STAR’S HOMES! This one-of-a-kind guided experience will include cramped legs in the back of my Fiat, and it runs a very good chance of simply being me lost in all the windy pathways of the hills and randomly pointing to large houses. “There is where the Jolie-Pitt clan resides, next door is Johnny Depp’s pad, and Harry Potter’s castle is hidden behind that lump of trees.”
• FALL FROM THE SKY!!…kind of! Our blood clan decided to embark upon the journey of iSKY, the indoor skydiving adventure at Universal Studios. At first I was hesitant because any random person could walk up and watch me float like a feather, and I wasn’t really in the mood for a paparazzi ambush. My mom told me to stop being a paranoid psycho and just go with the flow…the powerful air flow that would soon wildly distort my cheeks. Good thing a gaggle of stereotypical, fanny-pack sporting, tourists transpired at the perfect moment to snap hundreds of photos and video footage of my pseudo free fall (I’m still curious as to how I was the only person in the group the cared to photograph). I wouldn’t be shocked if photos, like the one below, start popping up all over Asia….Yes, I’m also well aware of my atrocious 90 degree angled limbs…and the fact that I’m not smiling…our bodybuilder instructor Rocky already scolded me for that….but I feel like sharing with the world how ridiculous I looked. 
• GET PHAT! …that is false advertisement. I really should have written “FAT”, but the blub does not sell well in Hollywood. We’ll just say that it was necessary for me to prep the visitation with a hardcore diet because my family insisted on trying every frozen yogurt and cupcake establishment in the city….and then Mom did her “thing” and made us take a photo with the treats…. Was anyone else forced to do this kind of shit while growing up? My mom always chirps it’s just her “thing”, and thanks to that “thing”, my entire incredibly awkward childhood is very well chronicled. 

Three cheers for an intense sugar high & weight gain! 

• DEATH BY SMOG! The city’s smoggy haze is more of a slow and gradual buildup of lung suffocation, so in order to give visitor’s lungs a stimulation of what a lifetime Los Anglican will endure, I’ve created an alternate game plan. I’ll leave my key-chain containing mini pepper spray (you never know when a bear may attack) in the care of my preteen brother because he certainly proved himself skilled enough to deploy the device. He “accidentally” set the little pink dildo-looking apparatus off in my sister’s face when we were all trapped inside the tiny elevator at my apartment building. Needless to say, my entire family sounded like we were stricken with the black lung for the remainder of the day, and no one in my building could use the elevator without coming under a very mysterious hysterical coughing spell.

The pepper spray incident was just one of many…beating him with a caveman club is the only dicapline method that seems to work these days. 

• SEE WHERE MOVIES ARE MADE! Sadly, the family did not find the loop of my studio to be an exciting endeavor. When we finished the short, but sweet viewing, they all replied “…that’s it?” A few days later I took them to Universal, where they were allVERY satisfied with the hour long adventure maze around their lot. I now know that television studio tours need to include a 3-D dinosaur attack, simulated earthquake and bomb explosion in a subway station, lots of pyrotechnics, and it needs to be hosted by Jimmy Kimmel, or someone of his caliber (Mom says I’m not quite there yet.)

• WATCH CIRQUE DU SOLEIL! This is an amazing chance to sit back with an alcoholic beverage in hand, listen to Latin-American influenced jams more suitable for the bedroom, and watch tons of people with the most fine muscular asses in extremely tight body suits bend in ways that are truly mind blowing ;) Yes, this does sound more like a sexy date night, but for whatever reason, I thought it could be something to enjoy with mother and siblings. While I love my family, I probably would have liked Ovo a lot more if I had been: 1. less sober  2. eaten some mind altering drugs 3. had a man’s arms to fall into that evening rather than sleeping on the couch and being kept awake all night because apparently everyone in my family snores like a dinosaur. On a more serious note, if asked on a date to another Cirque du Soleil show, I will always say yes…no matter how bizarre the gentleman caller may be. Take note Martin Scorsese.