I’m just a writer.
Though my absence from this blog for the past month might suggest otherwise, I’m first and foremost a writer. It’s my craft (<– #ThingsThatShouldBeAddedToTheListBelow).
And I mean, I’m also a really good actress. And I could totally be an actress if I wanted to be. But I don’t have a full on camera crew nor the desire to make a half-ass, shitty “Shit ___ Say” like all the unemployed 20-somethings/coeds out there who are bored as fuck and not actually creative enough to make it work.
Don’t get me wrong. “Shit Girls Say”, “Shit Nobody Says”, “Shit Black Girls Say”, “Shit White Girls Say to Black Girls” – top notch. But an overwhelming majority of the other lol-m-g-let’s-jump-on-the-shit-so-and-so-says-bandwagon videos really put the “shit” in their video titles (unless they’re total vadges and put “sh*t” or “stuff” instead. Like that’s going to make a difference.)
Regardless of the fact that I generally pride myself in not stealing ideas from other people, these videos have been truly inspirational, and it’s kind of making me sad that I don’t have access to bored film students at USC anymore. But if any of you come across the following and want to use it, I guess just credit me?
This intro is already getting too long (and probably boring. I’ll admit it.), so here’s my latest masterpiece. Use your imaginations. (Oh, and I know there’s already a video for this one. And it’s fucking terrible.)
Shit Aspiring Actresses Say
I just think I need new headshots.
He thinks I have real potential.
I won’t do nudity.
But like, if it’s essential for the role.
I’m totally fine with side-boob.
So you just want me to hold them like this?
I have an audition.
Yeah, I got a call back.
I really think I’m gonna get it.
This could be it.
I’m so close to getting my SAG card.
Yeah, I have an IMDB page.
I just need my time during the day for auditions.
Yeah, it’s at some apartment in the valley.
I’ve been in some commercials.
I was the lead in my high school play.
Aw thanks, I got them taken last week, the photographer was a-may-zing.
I’ll just have a salad.
I think I’m gonna stay in and work on my monologues.
I need to memorize these lines. This audition is a really big deal.
I met this agent last night, and he totally thinks I have the “it” factor.
I would have been perfect for that role.
He really wants to represent me.
I signed with a manager today.
Oh my god, that’s totally the kind of dress I’m going to wear at the Oscars.
I don’t even get why she’s famous.
I saw Jennifer Garner at Urth today. She’s not even that pretty.
Yeah, just a few student films.
It’s called Naughty Nurses 15, but I read the script and it’s really good.
I just feel like I’m really becoming the character.
There’s so much I can do with the role.
“But, Papa, I love him.”
“And then, he raped me.”
“And then, they raped me.”
I can totally cry on demand.
I’ve been on Law & Order.
It was the one where the girl got like gang raped by the homeless clan of former circus clowns.
I’ve worked with him. He’s such a dick.
I can’t wait to move to New York.
But if I get a boob job, they’ll never consider me for serious roles.
Why are they always complaining about paparazzi? I love having my picture taken.
Can I take your order?
GENITAL WARTS LOVE MY BLOG.
And I’m sorry if you do too and you’re angry at me for being the laziest blogger in the entire world lately. Why? Because I exercise now (yikes!) and like living in the real world sometimes (double yikes!).
But there’s nothing like a love letter from “genital warts” to remind me of why I do this whole blog thang:
Unfortunately, I don’t like genital warts, and genital warts are not welcome here. Though I’m afraid of being in contact with (<– get it??) genital warts, feel free to send genital warts an email. Maybe something like “I HATE YOU GENITAL WARTS!”. At least that’s what I would say. But maybe you like genital warts. Who knows.
Anyway, I have some posts coming up. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately, and I want to share those thoughts with you, but I got this really cool little box that lets me stream Netflix to my TV (because I don’t have a penis and therefore don’t own a PS3 or XBox whatever the fuck you need to stream Netflix to your TV) and I’ve watched the entire series of the Hills and about 3 seasons of How I Met Your Mother in about 3 weeks.
Jesus H. Christ is right. Looks like my boyfriend Tim Warner is shit outta luck, there’s a new game in TV town.
Lara, hold on a second. Did you really just skip over the fact that you RE-watched the entire series of the Hills? Even that last season when Lauren Conrad isn’t even in it?
Yeah, I did, and I’m not embarrassed. I like the TV on in the background. And with the Hills, I don’t even have to watch, because I know what’s happening. They’re sitting at a trendy outdoor restaurant in LA having lunch. Or at a trendy, dimly-lit restaurant having dinner. Having conversations that go like this:
“Yeah.”
“Totally.”
“And I was like, ‘Whatever’.”
*Silence*
*Staring*
“Slut.”
“Yeah.”
Yes, that was pretty much the best recap I’ve ever written. That is, until I take on Virgin Diaries in an upcoming post. Wait for it, like a virgin bride and groom saving their first kiss for the wedding. And then, you know, violently orally accost it.
We all win.
Even though Ryan technically lost to Bradley Cooper for People’s Sexiest Man of the Year, I think we all won. Why? Because the Ryan Gosling protests have increased the number of sexy Ryan Gosling photos I see every day by approximately 9904%.
Why else do we win? Because unlike boys, we don’t have actual boners to conceal. Oh, except for gay guys. Sorry. This must be rough for you. Good luck being at work for the next few days.
For everyone else who loves Ryan Gosling and doesn’t have a weiner and doesn’t have the luxury of actually protesting outside Peopla Magazine’s headquarters, please feel free to post this all over your Bookface and Twatter:
Southwest hearts head.
Or maybe just girls who give head, I dunno.
All I do know is that someone is probs about to get fired for retweeting some weiner ninja with the Twitter handle @paulinadeginge who apparently loves giving beejes:
Not gonna lie, I’ve probably retweeted things along the lines of “I love giving head” (due to the entertainment value, not because I necessarily agree. Duh. #notaslut). For example, a few weeks ago I retweeted DJ Black Bill Gates ((@blackbillgates)<— you need to follow him immediately) when he suggested “You gon get some dick today.” Clearly retweet worthy.
Unfortunately, Southwest Airlines doesn’t have the same retweet freedoms I do. Yikes for them. And I’m kind of sorry for blogging about this, but kind of not, because I’m looking forward to my blog being included in Southwest’s November news coverage/social media/holyshithowdidthishappen report. #IknowPR
And, in fact, I’m sure you’re probably wondering, “How did this happen? Why would someone do that?”
Well, either an employee at Southwest truly hearts blowies so much that they couldn’t resist, or they wanted to get fired, or they thought they were logged into their personal account and retweeted and were on the verge of sending a reply along the lines of “THIS IS MY ADDRESS COME HERE NAO.”
Either way, I’m super proud of my coworker for catching this gem on his screen. And proud of my other married/adult/father/secretly-super-hilarious-and-softspoken coworker for making the comment [completely under his breath] “I think I should write her name down.”
#Work #Fridays #OneofthemostamazingTwitterfailsI’veeverseen
We all know how to flush a toilet.
Saturday night I went to a birthday celebration. ‘Twas fantastic. A lot of that had to do with the fact that we went to a BYOB restaurant and got pretty shitty drunk for pretty cheap. My kind of situation.
Having said that, there was a less-than-desirable bathroom situation. Meaning that there was one unisex bathroom. (Gross.) And of course, with all the booze I had consumed, I had to use it.
As soon as I walked into the bathroom, a few ridiculous things happened:
1. This sign was on the toilet
Oh, cool, so I’m just supposed to “press down”? Is that how a toilet works? Because it’s not like I’ve used one every fucking day of my life since I was 2. (<– I actually have no idea how old I was when I was potty trained, but that sounds about right.)
Really though? Necessary? I think not. It’s not like we’re in a 3rd world country. We get it. Thanks, Cha Cha Chicken.
Oh, but wait…
2. If you did, in fact, “press down” nothing happened because the flusher was broken. Thanks for being inaccurate, sign.
3. People were using the toilet and not pressing down.
4. I FIXED IT.
Yeah, put this on the list of “really ridiculous shit I do when I’m drunk”: Realizing that the flusher is broken on the toilet and lifting up the lid on the tank and fucking FIXING THAT SHIT. I don’t even know how I did it, but I did it. Like a pro. First try. And then clearly I washed my hands a LOT.
But seriously. I think I should get a prize. Slash everyone who was there should get me a present.
Sooo yeah. Got drunk and fixed a toilet. #Saturday
