I work hard for the money

So after three days on the job, here are some thoughts:

Hmm.

I don't really know how to describe what it is like being an assistant, but after these three days I have had a few Lloyd-like moments (you would only understand that reference if you watch Entourage). It is both stressful, terrifying and really exciting. I'm going to learn a lot--that is for certain.

But really, I think that it is the transition from the strange, and unusual life I have led over the past year (aka no job) to this new one. I am no longer in control of my activities, I am no longer only responsible for myself. Of course, the best part of this is the paycheck and the fact that my vacation until January 7th is PAID.

The most interesting thing I have noticed about jumping from life in permanent vacation to my life working (all three days of it so far) is the huge adjustment I am going to have to make to getting less sleep. THAT SUCKS. I mean, I was averaging about 10 hours per night for a year. A year!

Yes, I am aware I am incredibly spoiled.

I am writing this from the airport in Burbank, entertainingly titled the "Bob Hope Airport" (my dad wanted to know if they told bad jokes here, which reminded me of his skill at making bad jokes), and I am doing one of my favorite things to do in airports... drinking.

I love to drink before I fly. Why? First of all, drinking in an airport is the one place where I think it is socially acceptable to drink by yourself. Furthermore, getting a little buzzed before a flight is so much fun, especially if it means you get to drink some bloody marys. I am on number two right now.

Holiday travel sucks and mine has hardly begun. This is my first experience with it, and yes I have been privileged in previous years with little to no commute over the holidays, but I am in a mood where I feel like complaining about getting less than ten hours of sleep and having to travel over the holidays. Poor me. Life is rough, ain't it?

All good things must come to an end...

Well, my permanent vacation is over. I somehow seem to have landed a job, and tomorrow is my first day at work. Fortunately, the job comes with a 6 week to 3 month initial trial period, so I guess there is an exit option, but it's nice to know I have some time to settle in (and hopefully not screw anything up too severely to warrant an early departure).

January 9 marks a year since my jaw surgery and a year since this whole lovely convalescence/doing nothing adventure started. It's been a sweet, sweet ride.

But here I am, on the cusp of becoming a working gal... never thought this day would come. It's both incredibly terrifying and exciting.

Fortunately, I am only working three days and then home for the holidays and the office is closed until the 7th... so maybe this dramatic expression of doom is a little early, but nonetheless--I'll miss the days of sleeping until 10, staying in my pj's until noon while I check email and network while watching TV, spending 2 hours at yoga classes in the middle of the day, running on the beach to catch the perfect sunset, and going to bed at midnight for the unnecessary ten hours of sleep. It's been a good run, and I'm certainly lucky to have managed to drag it out for so long.

Here's to the future... paychecks.

Indiana!

On this day in 1816 Indiana became the 19th U.S. state. Fascinating, no? Well, regarding Indiana--a state I recently drove through during my long journey cross country--I would like to point out a few things. First of all, to get from Cincinnati, Ohio to St. Louis, Missouri, you must drive through Indiana (as well as Kentucky--who knew Ohio was so south?). Second of all, I know nothing about geography because when this took place back in September, I was shocked, and a part of me still is. For some reason, in my mind I had always envisioned Indiana to be a little more northern and a little less filled with wheat fields and giant billboards that proclaim the following:

Billboard 1: If you died today today, where would you spend eternity?
Billboard 2: HELL is real.

These terrifying/amazing billboards are stationed on I-70 in the 19th U.S. state, Indiana. No offense to anyone from Indiana, (come to think of it, I don't think I know anyone from Indiana,) but after seeing that God fearing proclamation I wanted nothing more than to speed on through and get to St. Louis... or the West Coast... as fast as possible!

I'm really glad I moved to Los Angeles, in California, the 31st U.S. state.

Happy Monday!

Monday's suck (typically) so I'll try to provide some mindless distraction, with a little weekend recap.

1. I saw The Golden Compass this weekend. So disappointing. Then again, being a huge fan of the books I guess I am not surprised that it just didn't compare. Here's hoping the likely sequel will be much, much better.

2. I also saw Juno which was a fantastic movie and I recommend it to everyone. Michael Cera is brilliant, along with all of the cast, but once again, he proves his comic timing is perfection.

3. It was around 47 degrees in Santa Monica on Saturday night and I was really feeling the cold. This makes me incredibly nervous as I pride myself in being able to handle harsh temperatures. What am I going to do when I go back home? I am going to be such a wuss. This is very upsetting to me.

4. I had a fascinating experience at a bar over the weekend. Here's what happened: I was out with a few friends at The Gas Lite, a dive/karaoke bar that I actually thing is somewhat notorious for celebrity spottings or surprise performances. Being the ridiculous person that I am, I decided I wanted to sing a song (I am not going to reveal what it was because it's embarrassing--let's just say it was something in the country/pop/rock area). After writing down my request the karaoke lady informs me they probably wont get to my song (which, in retrospect is a very, very good thing). As I am about to head back to the booth my friends have claimed for the night some random guy starts chatting with me, asking me what song I was going to sing, and we are making some small talk, I'm thinking he's moderately cute despite his weird army cap (is he a surfer dude? a hipster? a punk? this is so beyond my realm of understanding...). Anyways, the following exchange takes place:

Moderately cute boy: "So, what do you do?"
Me: (awkward pause, in which I recall many a night in New York when I used to love to tell people I did nothing, or was unemployed, or a socialite-in-training, but realize that here in LA people might not be a shocked or amused by that response so I better come up with something quickly and the first thing that comes to mind is) "I'm a writer."

Okay... I'm a WRITER? HAH. This is such a sad, sad exaggeration of the truth and I cannot believe I just said this but at this point I am going to run with it. (I will say I do have a small history of lying to people in bars--it's fun.)

Moderately cute boy: "Oh so you are on strike! Yeah, I am in SAG, I get emails from your people all the time."
Me: (Oh, he's an actor, well that explains the hat and general demeanor) "Uh, yeah, well I am not actually in the WGA but I am really feeling the effects."
Moderately cute boy: "So what do you write."
Me: "I'm working on a variety of developments."
Moderately cute boy: "Yeah my buddy and I write as well, we are working on a pilot."
Me: "Oh yeah? Me too."

ME TOO? Oh my God, who am I? (Furthermore, what is this pilot I am working on? I'd really like to know!) The best part about this entire conversation, is that we are screaming over a very poor rendition of a U2 song. And the fact is, that every lie coming out of my mouth is very plausible to this guy, in this situation, in this town.

Ultimately, we chat for a little while longer and I am able to extract myself from what has become a ridiculous conversation without digging too deep of a hole. Although I do recall saying something about how I was looking for a more corporate job and how I was going to "sell-out to the man." (Oh this is just miserable.)

5. Without trying very hard, I have an immense talent for saying stupid things that make me look like a real jack-ass. Congratulations, me.

Why I Love Celine Dion, Pt. 2

This video pretty much speaks for herself. Feelings I experience when watching? Awe, embarrassment, pain (from laughter), and then... joy.

The Rise and Fall of the Shimmy Split

Wednesday night I went to some "Young Hollywood" party that is essentially an opportunity for underpaid assistants to get really drunk and maybe win some raffle prizes. My intentions in going were to meet some people, maybe network a little, and yes, take advantage of the open bar. What really happened was a 4 hour dance party. I went with three other friends and we closed down the party. I am not at all exaggerating. I was not wearing shoes for the final two hours, had a dance-off with a Michael Jackson wannabe (that ended with me dancing on a booth at the E! table), and attempted to convince the raffle people to give me Guitar Hero 3 even though I hadn't actually won.

Early today, when recalling the hilarity of the evening (which also included my first late night trip to In-N-Out burger, where I was unable to eat any of the food I ordered because of my aversion to mayonnaise--I still have yet to eat this well known fast food delicacy) I was reminiscing about college and dancing at Middlebury's one bar Angela's, and how I would always get so sweaty (obvi) that while I might have started the night drunk and unruly I would end stone cold sober and in need of a shower. Ahh, those were the days.

And then I remembered the Shimmy Split. I am not going to go into a lot of detail about this unfortunate dance move, just to note how happy I am that it now remains retired from my sad collection of other unfortunate dance moves (yet to expire is the Punching Bag, Attempted Rave, or Awkward Robot. Oh and the Missy Elliot Running Man was a onetime event.)

In honor of the Shimmy Split, I am going to post a fake press-release email I sent to a bunch of people about a year and a half ago. It will probably only make sense to some, and for those who don't understand, you're probably better off.

The Shimmy Split, Age 1, Dies Unexpectedly
June, 16, 2006

Boston, MA--Just a week after its first birthday, The Shimmy Split died unexpectedly early this morning at an undisclosed location in Boston. In a routine appearance late last night, to the sweet melodies of Phil Collins, Huey Lewis and the News, and Queen, The Shimmy Split inadvertently injured an innocent bystander. The left thumb of a one Ann Palmer Stamell, age 22 of Falmouth, ME, was dealt a blow while The Shimmy Split was at its peak of motion. The thumb, no longer opposable, immediately lost several basic motor functions and increased in size due to a suspected sprain. While the swelling was thwarted by a bag of ice chips, the precise outcome of the medical condition is yet to be determined. Witnesses were unclear as to what exactly caused the injury. Stamell's roommate, Katherine O'Connell, age 22, also of Falmouth, ME, noted, "The Shimmy Split seemed to especially enjoy a song by Jefferson Starship, and I think that may have been when things got out of control." It was sometime following the injury, between the hours of 2 am and 7:30 am this morning, when Ms. Stamell discovered the death. "I'd say, from the looks of the things, that someone made the pro-active decision to end the life of The Shimmy Split." A police investigation is currently underway.

The Shimmy Split was born in early June of 2005, in a bar in Biarritz, France. During it's short life, The Shimmy Split traveled worldwide, visiting friends and locations across the globe. The Shimmy Split was an adamant music lover, especially in the genre of 80s rock, and was often most flamboyant when inspired by the tunes of Queen, Journey, Jefferson Starship, and Styx. Besides the specific bar of birth in France, The Shimmy Split had a fondness for many locations in Middlebury, VT, including a bar called Angela's, an apartment on Washington St., a residence known only as The Bog, and the living room of La Force Suite D (where The Shimmy Split made a rare duet with The Missy Elliot Running Man). The Shimmy Split often wore extra large t-shirts, and once bravely competed for a highly-coveted "Katrina Blows" shirt during the last week of May 2006. Those fortunate to have experienced the joy of The Shimmy Split are among the lucky few, as clearly, The Shimmy Split has left us forever.

In lieu of flowers, The Shimmy Split's only living relatives request that donations in the form of cash, check, or money order, be sent to 22 Knight St, Falmouth, ME 04105. The funeral is open to family and close friends only.

Inquiries after the formerly opposable thumb can be looked into at astamell@middlebury.com (207) 712 2306, or AStamell@WeberShandwick.com, (617) 520 7127.

How to Succeed at Getting Things from Interviewers, Without Really Trying

I saw Wicked last night at the Pantages Theater in Hollywood. It was fantastic! In addition to feeling as though I was sitting in a packed theater back in Times Square in NYC (here I am missing New York... never thought that would happen), the show was truly magical. Great songs, story, actors, stage--everything was over the top and fantastic to watch.

But that is not the point of this post. You might be reading this thinking, "Oh how nice, Annie got to see a Broadway show in LA. That girl loves musical theater, as well as shows on the SciFi channel, which is a little weird, wait, why am I friends with her again? NO, WAIT! The real question is, how could someone who is currently unemployed and would rather spend any actual large sums of money on clothes or a bar tab afford to see a show with a ticket price well over $100???"

Well friends, here's how: In a recent networking interview I was given two tickets to see Wicked. Free of charge. It all happened quite suddenly in a causal conversation during which I was asked if I had ever seen the show and replied, no but I loved the book and love the soundtrack. Bam, tickets in hand. This, I will say, was unexpected, very exciting, and got me to thinking. Here in Hollywood when you are interviewing or meeting with people who work in publicity there are always perks. There are always extra products lying around and people here are constantly on the job and want to be schlepping their stuff.

In an interview yesterday I am casually chatting with my interviewers after a response to their question, "What are you currently reading?" led to an interesting conversation about pop culture, 80s nostalgia, and sports teams. Being as I am a Red Sox fan, this of course becomes the next subject matter, especially when I discover that one of my interviewers was just in Boston for the world series. This gets me all excited, and we chat some more about New England sports until moving onto the next question. When it came time to finish the interview, just before I leave I am handed the DVD of the 2007 Rockies-Red Sox world series, which this company released (special features include a narrative by Matt Damon, a Dropkick Murphy's music video and hopefully Papelbon's riverdance routine). Sure this is less exciting than tickets to Wicked, and it wasn't the most thrilling of World Series so I might try to pawn the DVD off on a friend for Christmas, but that was the second interview where I walked away with something.

Which leads to my next question... instead of show tickets or a DVD, how about a job?

Jack Bauer IS Real!

Best mug shot ever, courtesy Kiefer Sutherland, now carrying out a 48-day sentence thanks to his 5th DUI. You know what, I still believe he could negotiate with bank robbers, prevent a nuclear bomb from blowing up any major metropolis, deliver a baby, cure cancer, and all the while never need to use the bathroom or change clothes.

This reminds me of a great line from a recent episode of 30 Rock (a show everyone should watch), when Alec Baldwin's (staunchly conservative) character Jack tells Tina Fey's character Liz he's attending a party thrown by John McCain and Jack Bauer. Liz then says "I don't think he's real."

To which Jack responds, "I assure you, Liz, John McCain is definitely real."

Guilty Pleasure? Team LC

I would like to state that I am not a fan of reality television. I think it has ruined the sitcom and seriously pummeled a lot of scripted tv. That being said, there is one reality television show I do watch and love (although whether or not it is even reality is a debatable topic). I love The Hills. The Hills is a show that is on the so bad it's good, in a voyeuristic, live-vicariously through others sense. It is juicy, exceptionally addictive, and (despite an unnecessary amount of gratuitous LA city shots) action packed full of people doing completely inane, yet strangely fascinating activities.

I am thrilled to hear that The Hills has been renewed for a fourth season. Even better, according to In Touch, the cast might be changing. My hope is that they get rid of Heidi and her robotic, serpent-like fiancé/clinger-on/manager Spencer, and make the hilarious Lo a full time cast member. And Brody too, because... well, he's nice to look at.

Complaint

For a city that is so dependent on cars, what is the deal with people in LA not understanding how to park? Or rather, why are the majority of LA drivers (and people in my neighborhood) inconsiderate assholes who have absolutely no concern for those that they share the streets and limited non-permit parking spots with?

I am considering creating a pamphlet which I will insert underneath the windshield wipers of the cars on my block, asking them to please, pull all the way up to, or back to the red zone, to allow the maximum number of cars possibles to fit in the grey "parking permitted" areas. And people who drive Ford Expeditions should just be shot. Complete, unnecessary waste. And they are contributing significantly to excessive Carbon Dioxide emissions and global warming. And they take up about 2 parking spots. And they are gas guzzling, road-blocking, inconsiderate drivers.

Honestly!

Katherine Heigl's Teeth

I find Katherine Heigl very annoying. Really, I find her character on Grey's Anatomy annoying, but that has permeated into my perception of who she is in real life (so, yes I am kind of an ass in this regard). The Izzie-ness to her and the myriad of interviews with her in which she displays her "refreshing" attitude and ability to speak her mind really bother me. And now she is on the cover of Vanity Fair, so she can candidly speak her mind... again. And apparently Barbara Walters is doing a bit on her for an upcoming special looking at the 10 Most Fascinating People of 2007. Katherine Heigl is everywhere these days and for what? Her part on Grey's? I mean I am definitely an addicted Grey's Anatomy viewer but I don't necessarily think it's groundbreaking television. Or for Knocked Up? Sure, it's a great movie, but I wouldn't call her a novel casting decision, nor was she all that exceptional in the part. I realize my claims for disliking her seem fairly irrational, but what I think I might normally see to be as personable, endearing, or genuine I find to be exhaustingly annoying.

Okay but the real reason she drives me nuts? Her teeth are FREAKISH. Seriously. Look at this screencap from a recent Grey's episode (or click on the picture to the left). Look closely. Scary, no?

Some Things I Have to Say About Sweating

I am a sweater. And I am not talk about that lovely article of clothing everybody wears this time of year. (I particularly enjoy this one in "heather graphite" which is just a fancy way of saying gray.) No, I am talking about the fact that I am one of those people with a serious problem with perspiration. Thing is, I am fully aware of this fact, and I am not going to pretend that it isn't an issue. I am going to own my sweating problem.

My sweating problem makes me wonder... Why do I seem to sweat so much? When I sleep, when I am driving in my car, after I've showered and am getting ready for the day/a night out/going to bed (when I will sweat again), and definitely during any sort of athletic activity (duh)... really, it doesn't take a lot for me to sweat. The perspiration seems to be heightened during periods of stress or anxiety--which is natural I imagine, but even when I think I am totally calm and on top of my game--nope, still sweating.

For example, yesterday I had a very important job interview that I was a bit nervous for. But during the interview I felt great--things went fantastically and I was feeling totally calm and collected and psyched when on the spot my interviewers told me they wanted me to come back for round two. And I am thinking of how much ass I am kicking and then comes that crucial point in the interview where you shake each other's hands, say thanks and let's be in touch and then BAM! I noticed that during the entire process I had been sweating profusely and was rocking some serious pit stains. Then everything is just suddenly so awkward when you look like you're doing a bad T-Rex impression with a weak handshake.

Anyways, sweating sucks. I know others would agree. When it comes down to it, I think the answer to that whole "why do I sweat" question is just due to genetics. I am predisposed to sweating. My dad told me a couple of years ago that maybe in losing some weight I would sweat less (thanks, Dad, you're lucky I don't have an eating disorder), but the thing is, I can think of 3 good friends (you know who you are) who are all really skinny and are real big sweaters. So I think it just is the way it is. An unsatisfying conclusion, but that's what prescription-strength deodorant is for.

So for all the other sweaters out there, this is for you. (Article courtesy the New York Times, and a fellow perspiration-challenged friend who shall remain anonymous.)

Strike Humor

This video comes from United Hollywood. Check out their website for more, but bask in the hilarity of this spoof that comes from striking writers of the Colbert Report. (The last 20 seconds are incredible.)