It's the Island, Jack!

Ohhhh how I wish I had shit to say. No stories for your reading pleasure. No small question or thought to put on the digital page. Alas.

BUT-
**Warning: Lost season premier spoilers**

Lost is simply amazing. And here is why: they rope you in. I do not know anyone who started watching Lost and then stopped. Once you see more than 3 episodes you are hooked and you become obsessed with finding out how it all ends. Only about one in twelve episodes actually answers anything- the other eleven just raise more questions! Seriously, this is a money-making genius plan. I have been watching from day one and cannot stop. The season premier that aired tonight didn't answer any questions at all! The only real thing that actually HAPPENED was that some random character we don't even care about died. Oh, and we also found out that we will now be doing flash-forwards instead of flash-backs for your viewing, and mind-bending pleasure.

Genius plan. Now that we know that they will be cutting these shenanigans off at six seasons, I am partially relieved, but also partially shocked at the realization that I will still be watching Lost in GRADUATE school. How old was I when it started? 3?

Strobe Lights and Writers

Currently Listening To...
Earth, Wind and Fire

Alright, so Saturday night did not end up being crazy. Friday, however, is story-worthy on a couple levels.

So we went to our friends' apartment because it is right next to this fraternity on campus and they were having some big party. Mind you, we haven't gone to a frat party in about a year or so, mostly because after freshman year they are dubbed as pretty lame. Unless you belong to a sorority and want to go to these parties to bone other guys besides your boyfriend, the novelty wears off pretty soon. The stereotype usually fits here at "UCC"; a bunch of beer-bellied dudes wearing some costume to fit the party theme are chugging their beers in the middle of the dance floor while each one has some scantily-clad chick grinding up on their nuts to techno beats and R&B re-mixes.

We decided that if we were wasted enough, this party could actually be really entertaining.

So I had a couple beers in me, and my friend, lets call him "Sam" hands me a cookie and tells me its an edible. He then told me he hasn't tried any yet, and that he just made them, but that he thinks they are pretty weak.

I think you know where this story is going.

So, the beauty of this anonymous blog is that I can openly discuss my partying habits without fear of discovery. I have never done a seriously hard drug, but I am a relatively recreational weed smoker. I would say I smoke once or twice every weekend pretty regularly. Definitely no pot head. (I do, though, own a little pink bong and we named it "Carrie Bradshaw". I know. Amazing.) So I have tried the edible once or twice before and have only had good experiences, (read: amazing senior class trip to Disneyland...Indiana Jones when you are high is super.) Anyway, so I was pretty sure this was a good idea. So me and my roommate, "Jessie", each have a little cookie and we all head to this frat party.

It was 80's exercise video themed (I know...), so everyone was wearing tiny shorts and headbands except for a few girls on the dance floor who were dressed in leopard print, bright pink and gold (depending on the girl).

So a group of about 6 of us were there, on the dance floor, and it was an amazing time. We just danced the night away. But THEN, the story turns a little sour at this point. The friggin' DJ turns on a strobe.

Cue the trip-out.

After about 10 straight minutes of strobe, Jessie and I turn to each other and give each other a look. The cookies have kicked in. We excuse ourselves for a couple minutes (although I really don't think anyone knew what we were saying since we were dancing right next to the speakers) and went outside to get a breather. I don't know about Jessie, but my experience was that I couldn't concentrate on a single thing for more then 3 seconds so I was unable to carry on conversations with anyone. I won't go into more details about this trip but it was kind of intense for an edible. When we were outside Jessie and I were fascinated with the fact that we couldn't hear anything and started shouting at each other, only to be immediately ridiculed by some guys nearby. Who knows what else happened out there since I don't remember. I don't wanna remember since all I recall is being made fun of. The dance floor started looking good again at that point. No conversation necessary.

We go back and our friend Alyssa was dancing with our friends Chad and Sam. As soon as we walk up, 3 guys come out of nowhere and each of them grabs one of us and starts freaking with us. Great. Now if you are a girl you will understand- you cannot see who is behind you so you check out the guy's friends who are dancing with your friends to size your guy up. Alyssa had a guy with a mustache. Enough said. Jessie had a guy who was pretending to spank her ass as he danced with her from behind and would look over to my guy and wink. Oh God. So I think Alyssa sees this too, and she is notorious for her cold rejections. I am too high to deal with this whole situation so I just watch this all go down in a kind of slow-motion stupor. Alyssa abruptly turns around to face her guy, raises her hand and and does a little "Bye bye" motion. This guy gives her a "what the hell?!" look and grabs her again, only to have her gently shove him away, give the "bye bye" gesture again, and again, and again, and again, until he finally gives her the finger and storms off. My guy and Jessie's guy go after him to console him. Bros before ho's. Whew.

Can I just do a brief interjection to this story and comment on the act of dancing when extremely high and/or drunk. It might be just me, but I always have the same experience. I dance and dance for what seems like 10 minutes but is actually about an hour, non-stop. During that time I don't even think about what I'm doing, and then, BAM...I have a completely sober, and sober-ING thought: Am I a really shitty dancer? I literally just snap out of it for about long enough to truly question my dancing abilities or lack there of. It is just this brief feeling of sheer horror that I am truly awful. I begin to get self conscious but then abruptly fall back into my high/drunk state of minimal consciousness. Does that happen to anyone else? Probably just me.

Aaaaanyway..

Flash forward to about 30 minutes later. Alyssa and I are standing in the entry hallway to this fraternity, waiting for Jessie and Chad to find our one friend in the frat to hook us up with more booze. The frat had run out (as they always do). We were typical frat-party girls: sweaty, shouting and leaning up against the wall for support. All that I remember (recall my 3-second goldfish-concentration ability at this point) is Alyssa looking over my shoulder at a girl in a leopard print dress (which we knew to be "Anna"- a Kappa Kappa Gamma who cakes on (and I mean CAKES on) the makeup and likes to get drunk, fuck guys, and pick fights). Then I remember Alyssa turning to me, her eyes only 2/3 of the way open and saying, "...blah blah blah why would he even hook up with a DIRTY KAPPA anyway?!!!" Oh crap. If you have ever been very very stoned then you know what it feels like to have an out-of-body experience, as if you are there in the situation but have no ability to be a part of it (due to lack of concentration and/or basic motor skills) and so you just sort of watch from "above" as shit goes down. So I stand there like a dummy and see this leopard-print hoochie (how is that even spelled?) appear in my peripheral vision and get right into Alyssa's face: "IS THERE SOME SORT OF PROBLEM OVER HERE?!" I think I might have managed to squeak out a small: "no!" but to no avail. Alyssa handles this well: "No no, not at all. I'm sorry did I say something to offend you? I apologize." This girl says something else, I can't remember, and then says: "I just feel like there is bad blood between our groups!" This snaps me into a brief moment of sobriety and I think: "Who are we, the Crypts and the Bloods?" but I return to my safe spot, floating above this whole situation as merely an observer. More talk happens an Alyssa appeases this drunk girl even though she WAS talking shit about her. I have to commend Alyssa here for handling this situation very well. This Anna chick once punched a girl in the face. That would have put an unpleasant twist on the evening.

So we eventually find our way back to our friend's apartment. I half pass out in a huge chair staring at, not watching, "Rock of Love" reruns while my friends smoke more, drink more, and try to guide Chad back home on the telephone, since he had somehow wandered off by himself in the burbs of Cowtown.

I somehow get a cab to pick us up (after giving him an incorrect address 3 times) and Jessie and I arrive home safe. We sit down and watch the final episode of Real World Sydney which was a bunch of people crying and pretending they missed each other. My still-high self found this hilarious and I couldn't stop laughing, and Jessie found my laughing hysterical, so we had a good 5 minute-long laughing fit and went to bed.

P.S- On another note, something else I found out that night was amazing. Chad, that model-faced tall guy who is super quiet yet charming, revealed to me that he wanted to be a screenwriter. He told Jessie earlier that night, before I joined them that he wanted to talk to me because he had written some stuff and wanted me to read it. So she brought it up. In response to me asking him why he JUST brought this up after weeks of knowing me, he said, "As soon as I found out you wanted to be a producer I wanted to tell you, but then I didn't know what you were like at all since we just met. So I just kind of slowly found out what kind of movies/music/books you like to make sure we are on a similar page, and I really liked what I saw, so I want you to read my stuff." OK, he's been testing me?! Scary! But hey, I passed! So he is sending me his 2 screenplays, his novel, and this journal he has of every idea he's ever had for a script. I am going to read them and hopefully like them. If I don't he said he would love to hear some ideas I have and he would gladly collaborate and write something together. I will email my contacts at "UC Cowtown" Filmmakers Society and see if they can help us get crew, cast and equipment together and make this thing actually happen. I have been DYING for some talent to come along and want to collaborate and actually make something. The film program here is brand new and filmmakers/writers are few and far between, so you couldn't understand how excited I am to try and get something off the ground. Oh, and I guess that Chad is interning this summer for David E. Kelly!!!! Dude. This guy is amazing. Could I be more excited to start this project with him? No.

Gosh Darn

Currently Listening To...
Wincing the Night Away, The Shins

So in women's studies class today we were on the topic of "culturally constructed norms" in regards to women. One girl raised her hand and said that she thought it was terrible when girl's cursed. She said that she found it immature and off-putting when a girl did it, but not when a guy did it. Most of the class nodded in agreement.

Is this true? I mean, I am no Tony Soprano but I do my fare share of swearing. Aside from being a girl, does it show a lack of imagination for any writer to swear? Is it a turn-off? I actually swear way more in my real life than I do in my blogging here, and I actually try and tone it down here. It is surely a bad habit, but is it really a sign of immaturity or lack of imagination?

Thoughts?

And on another note: my Saturday night is going to be ridiculous. Stay tuned for what is sure to be a more than hilarious recap.

californication

Currently Listening To...
Graduation, Kanye West

Warning: This post isn't like my other posts. It's a tad introspective and self-indulgent. You have been warned.

As I sit here in my freezing cold apartment (my roommate hates high PG&E bills) I can't help but let my mind wander about summers past. It seems like the older I get, the less tumultuous my summers are. I prefer it that way, but i feel like pretty soon my summers will be so dead that I will find myself passed out on the couch watching Everybody Loves Raymond reruns. And I hate that show.

Last summer I interned at the San Francisco Film Commission at S.F city hall. Amazing experience, let me tell ya. My (female) boss had the dirtiest mouth and was married to an actor (Peter Coyote) who would call the office and ask for " my wife, the bangin' hottie". It was a colorful summer, albeit uneventful aside from that. Oh, right, I also went with my mom to Paris and Sicily. My mother teaches art history at our local community college and is a guest lecturer every year at what people like to call "The Ivy League School on the West Coast". So ever since I was still in the womb I have been going to Europe. Mom calls it "research". I call it "free travel". We all win.

Summer-before-last I was a sales associate at JCrew. Not a good time although my good friend from high school, "Cassie", worked with me and we would talk shit about our fellow employees after work. That made the situation live-able. One of our bosses was this pretty, preppy girl who had a name like "Kelly" or "Karen" or something and always wore argyle and had a smile plastered on her face. One day when I was walking back from my lunch break I saw her standing in this hidden corner of the outdoor mall, chain smoking and swearing like a sailor about the guy she had fucked the night before.

Two summers ago I was preparing to go away to college. I'm pretty sure I didn't do anything remotely useful with my time, apart from cause some major drama among my peers. I slept with my closest male friend. Actually, I took his virginity. I had broken up with The Ex (capitalization means he's the big one. The important one. The high school sweetheart. The First, yes, that fist), 2 days prior. It was the third and final time I would break up with him during the span of our time together. More on that later. Anyway, aside from that, I don't remember much about the rest of the drama other then that it was completely unrelated and ended with another one of my ex boyfriends hooking up with my best friend of four years and then lying to me about it until my ex finally broke down and told me. I couldn't understand why they kept it from me in the first place. It wouldn't have mattered had they not lied. I forgave my best friend for lying to me but nothing was ever the same and that was the beginning of the end of my friendship with her. A lot happened after that, and we slowly drifted despite my desperate efforts to salvage the little we had left. Now we don't speak.

The summer before senior year of high school was the worst in my life. We will end with this one because no summer prior to this one will be of any interest or importance compared to this summer. This was the summer that I went off to summer school in D.C for a program for really politically nerdy kids. The day after I came home I was told that my father was leaving our family.

Broken.

Since that summer my life has never been the same. Over the next few weeks after it happened I dealt with it by not dealing with it, which is something I have been paying for over the past couple years. In the first week after it happened, I broke up with The Ex (for the first time), went to too many parties, did the stereotypical teenage angst thing for a few days, closed myself off emotionally to all of my friends, and discovered a new-found interest in kissing lots of boys (see above).

Some of you may say "oh, boo hoo, the worst of her problems is her parents getting divorced. Every one's parents get divorced." Until it happens to you, especially if it comes as a shock and when it comes when you are 17, you have absolutely no idea what it is or what it feels like. Just because something happens frequently doesn't mean that it is any less painful or a big deal. Example: one out of three females in the united states has been molested in some form before they turn 12. Just because it happens so frequently, does that mean it is any less disgusting or shocking? No. I rest my case.

Really what this post is about is time. Looking back at these past summers has made me realize that when we are young, things change so very quickly. The difference between being 17 and 20 is absolutely astronomical, and this fascinates me. I have grown, the people who surround me in life have come and gone, and I am a different person then I was then, but I am dealing with the same issues. We don't grow up; we grow through.

Tragedy

Heath Ledger passed away today in his apartment. This seriously breaks my heart for the obvious reasons in that he was way too young, talented, and that he was a father to 2 year old Mathilda. But, in a less obvious way, his death is a true tragedy to me specifically.

My freshman year in college I was a PoliSci major. My dream was to be a political mover and shaker; I wanted to change the world.

One day, I finally decided to get Brokeback Mountain on Netflix and I watched it on a rainy day during winter quarter when I was stuck in bed with the flu. As soon as it had finished, I pushed "play" again and watched it a second time. My roommate came back and we watched it together, again. My third time that day. The following day I rushed back from my night class to watch it a fourth time, before finally returning it in it's red envelope.

Since then I have purchased the original short story and have read it several times, and I finally caved and purchased the DVD and I have watched it 5-7 more times since then. I couldn't get enough of the acting, the story, the setting, the characters. Aside from my own personal school-girl obsession with Jake Gyllenhaal, it was something more. I was moved by it more than I had ever been moved by a political movement or political figure. I loved this movie, plain and simple. I loved it in the way I loved Almost Famous, but with this movie it was different. I loved it's message. I also loved it because it was a love story, plain and simple. It wasn't a film that was just about homosexuality; it touched on the purest and most real human emotion: love. It did this more beautifully than I had ever seen another movie attempt. Anyone could relate to it.

Heath Ledger was mostly responsible for my reaction to this film. The way that words seemed to fight their way out of his mouth and the way in which just one small look would convey a whole world of emotion was truly incredible. His character was tortured by love in a way that was almost too much to watch.

This performance single-handedly got the ball rolling on what would soon be labeled as my obsession with film. Soon after my experience with Brokeback Mountain I began to seriously question my future and evaluate what was really important to me. Film made me happy and passionate. These were feelings I had never really felt before. I was inspired, and two weeks later I changed my major, powered through 3 books on the history of film, and began my search for the role that I would play in an industry that could produce something like Brokeback Mountain. Since then I have been moved in this same way by countless movies and my passion is still going strong.

I want to change lives, and film, not politics, will be my tool.

I want to produce films that move large scores of audiences in the same way this film moved me.

So, thank you, Heath, for being my inspiration. I hope you rest in peace.

It's been a while/ How you've come back in style/ singin' "Hey, na na na na na na"

Currently Listening Too...
Juno Motion Picture Soundtrack





For me, being at Sundance was like being on a really good first date.

The company was incredible. Everyone there only wanted to talk about movies and were there for one of two reasons: to promote/buy a film, or they were there for the pure love of movies. The setting was magical (albeit, negative one degrees!), the food lovely, and I returned home with a feeling of euphoria and satisfaction.

In my short time there I was able to see eight films: The Yellow Handkerchief (amazing film starring William Hurt, Maria Bello and Kirsten Stewart about an unlikely group who take a road trip together), Frozen River (a story about a financially unstable woman who meets a young Native American woman and they help smuggle foreigners across the border for money), The Wave (a modern, German take on a true story that actually took place in Palo Alto, CA, about a high school teacher who's school simulation project about Fascism gets way out of hand), Good Dick (easily my favorite- about a young guy (Jason Ritter) who works in a porn shop and becomes obsessed with and starts a relationship with an incredibly troubled girl who comes into the store every single day to rent porn. Take note that this film was written, directed, produced by and starred in by a 26 year old girl-Marianna Palka), American Son (a story about a young U.S Marine (Nick Cannon) who is home on leave for 90 hours before he is shipped off to Iraq for the first time), The Last Word (my 2nd favorite film I saw- about a man (Wes Bently) who writes suicide notes for other people for a living and meets the sister (Wynona Ryder) of one of his clients at the funeral and they begin an odd relationship while he is in the process of becoming close friends with his newest client (Ray Romano)), Sleep Dealer (written and directed by Alex Rivera; a futuristic, political science-fiction film about a young Mexican guy who struggles to make ends meet for his family), and Perro Come Perro (a Colombian mobster film about the reality of the Colombian mafia and it's dog-eat-dog mentality).

Whew.

I would write more about each one but I don't want to spoil them in case the Studios come to their senses, buy the films and release them in theatres. The films that I saw that are most likely to be bought (these predictions coming from the buzz I heard around town and from Variety magazine) are The Yellow Handkerchief, American Son and The Last Word.

I also had a lot of celebrity sightings, but not as many as I was planning on because my Dad and I made it our priority to see as many films as possible, so I was pretty much sitting in theatres the whole time. I did see Paris Hilton (hah), Audrina Pettridge (another hah), Bill Pullman, Quentin Tarantino (he sat 3 rows behind me in Sleep Dealers), Kirsten Dunst, Stanley Tucci and a few others.

We had to get up at 4am every morning to get in line to get day-of tickets which worked out fine, but I am now totally exhausted. Most sane people don't do Sundance that way but this was planned so last-minute that we had too.

It was so crazy how L.A was essentially re-located to Park City. Everything had to do with who you knew, your celebrity status, or how much money you had. Those who could afford the 2500 dollar all-access pass were treated like Britney Spears by the volunteers, and those who didn't have those passes but who were important enough were allowed to cut the line. It was all quite a show and I got a kick out of it.

I wish I could chat more but I'm just so beat it is crazy. (It was not so smart for me to go out to a party RIGHT after I got home last night.)

This week is a busy one in terms of school work, so therefore I will be blogging often as a form of procrastination.

p.s- Happy MLK Jr. Day!


The famous Egyptian Theatre on Main Street.

Park City, Salt Lake City, Utah.

Marianna Palka, Jason Ritter, and the rest of the cast doing Q&A for Good Dick.

Director (Geoffrey Haley) and Wes Bently doing Q&A for The Last Word.

Bill Pullman (While You Were Sleeping, Independence Day) being interviewed on Main Street to promote his new film at Sundance.


The main cast members (Nick Cannon and Matt O'Leary) and director Neil Abramson discuss American Son.

Nighttimin' Baybeh

Currently Listening Too...
Finding Forever, Common

OK, I told myself I would never blog about politics because I just get all riled up and opinionated and tend to piss people off. All I will say is...

Bill Clinton came to speak at my University last night and it was the 2nd most incredible thing I have ever witnessed.

The 1st most incredible being his speech at the Democratic National Convention in 2004.

OK I'm done.

Anyway, just a couple of things for today:

First, I decided I was tired of writing to absolutely no one so I joined some groupie thingies just to see what this whole blogging world is all about and to get maybe one or two people to read this thing.

Second, I head to Sundance Film Festival with my dad tomorrow!!! It was a Christmas gift from him this year. I could NOT be more thrilled and ecstatic. Obviously I will dedicate an entire entry to this later.

Third, This also means that I won't be writing for a few days.

I know this entry was INCREDIBLY dull but it had to be done.

Love and Peace.

Oh yeah...

Currently Listening Too...
Both Sides of the Gun, Ben Harper

Here is something True:

I lead a charmed life.

No, really, I'm disgustingly privileged and therefore have been told that I have less of an "original voice" than, say, J.D Salinger. OK, I will give you J.D Salinger, but honestly, I feel a little screwed from the get-go. I can't help where I'm from. But, they have a point; How many things could I possibly say about college life, or movies, or hopes and dreams yadda yadda?

I have been told several times, by several authoritative figures (i.e English teachers and professors), that I have what it takes to be a writer, if only I had the background.

I both agree and disagree with this statement.

First of all, I don't even want to be a writer so being told this just angers me more. You never want to be rejected by something you didn't want for yourself in the first place. But here I am, blogging away so this is now an issue haunting me.

It is very true that I was not once a stripper. It is very true that I have never done time in jail, let alone been suspended from school (though I did come close once). Nor have I spent a long, tortured childhood in the painfully cold Midwest where there is nothing to do but absorb pop culture via the television set. It turns out the only major literary crime I have committed is growing up in the part of California that tends to breed well-rounded, down-to-earth, happy, comfortably liberal, peace and love and all that shit, people.

Damn.

OK, so I may be a tad short on dark material. But who needs dark when you've got painfully self-aware, jaded, and downright insecure?

That, to me, smells like literary gold. Actually, not gold. More like silver.

Possibly not even silver. I'm going to downgrade to, say, nickel or cast-iron.

But my point is, I have shit to say so I'm going to say it no matter what kind of mediocrity stands in my way. I cannot help where I'm from, nor can I help the fact that I had the perfect childhood and that up until three years ago my family was something out of the 1950's. Or at least 1950's idealistic fiction. The line there is a bit blurry.

So I guess that I am now classified as an upper-middle class, white, fluff-writer. Great. Persona-wise I get to be lumped in with Stephen King and Nicholas Sparks. I'm actually a lot like Nicholas Sparks, minus his whole, ambiguous sexuality, thing. (I don't care what you say, no man's-man can write stuff that makes me weep like that. Nor does a man's man have hand-pressed purple button-downs.)

I will never be Chuck Palahniuk or Davis Sedaris. I don't want to be them because that is not my experience (actually, it's copyright). So I will continue to blog to no one and I will write with the comfort of knowing that I am only sharing this mediocrity and sunny past with myself. And that sounds pretty good to me.

just don't know how to quit you

Currently listening too...
Radiohead, In Rainbows

Yeah, so, that "Hockey party" I went too? It was definitely a roller hockey party. What is roller hockey, you ask? Good question. Here is what it is, in a nutshell: A bunch of idiots wearing knee pads, stumbling around in roller blades. Lame. Now, as silly as this sport seems to me, it may not seem so silly to you. But, this party we went to was undeniably ridiculous.

So me and my three friends arrive at this party with one of my friend's male roommates. Let's call my three friends, "Alyssa" (the one with the clever slag, from San Diego), "Jessie" (my blonde roommate from Santa Barbara), and "Sophie" (a childhood friend of mine who I lost touch with until we ran into each other freshman year at college and became instant friends again like not a day had passed, from the Bay Area). So we came to this party with "Chad", Alyssa's roommate. Chad is this tall, blonde, model-faced boy who's shockingly quiet but when talking to him, he makes you feel like the most important person in the room. Anyway, we only recently got to know this guy because Alyssa has just moved in with him and another guy. Now, this other roommate, is a member of the roller hockey team at UCC. So, we all decided to venture to this "initiation" party the team was throwing.

Cue the awkwardness.

We arrive, and the four girls stand around the basement, where this party is taking place, at the foot of the stairs, because it's the only place we can all fit, and it is nearest the keg. Chad socializes with his roommate and all of the teammates while we stand in a circle, sipping our beer and trying to act fascinated with each others outfit's, shouting conversation. After each of us quickly finish our cups of beer, we all re-fill and find vacancy on this corner couch which we promptly occupy, only to take note of the fact that we are suddenly the only females in the room. The skanky (and un-flatteringly dressed) girls have gone with other guys to get another keg, and the four of us sit on the couch, right next to the speakers. Promptly, one Asian guy wearing glasses sits down next to Alyssa and begins to chat with her about the song playing (which was "No Diggity", by the way. How much is there to say, really, about this song?) Not to be downright bitchy about it, but Alyssa is a bit out of this poor kid's league. Let me paint a mental picture for you: Alysssa, a former model, sitting on a couch with her three friends, and a slightly overweight roller-hockey teammate who is clearly too drunk to complete sentences, let alone sustain an erection, trying to make conversation about a late-90's hip hop song at a party in a basement in the middle of the boonies of California. Now, as this is happening, I turn to the friend directly to my right on the couch (I was in the middle, now), and see that a relatively decent-looking guy has sat himself next to Sophie. He is staring directly ahead and makes zero eye contact with Sophie. This boy had plenty of places to sit. Or stand. But he chose this place. And says nothing. So Sophie, with a buzz, and also just being the generally friendly person that she is, attempts to strike up a conversation which completely fails due to the fact that he will only look directly in front of himself. It looked like she was a wife talking to her husband while he was trying to watch the game. This was how the night began.

After about an hour of this, with various guys in the room trying their hand at chatting with the bored girls on the couch (we must have looked like such elusive bitches. Ew.), I spot one guy across the room in a light blue plaid shirt. I lean over to Alyssa (she is now at my left due to extremely frequent trips to the keg resulting in a musical-chairs situation), and say "OK, finally, a cute guy at this party!" Now, Alyssa and I have VERY different taste. We both enjoy clean-cut, but she tends to value height and hair color, while I go for the eyes and smile. It's like the difference between being a boobs man or an ass man. Trust me. Anyway, so she actually agrees with me. This guy is pretty tall, with shortly cropped blond hair, piercing green eyes and has that whole "I'm down-to-earth" look going for him. He looked super confident, but also very shy. So, (and just mind you, I have never had this happen to me before) we make eye-contact from across the room, and BAM. I think he may have seen me gesture towards him and whisper to Alyssa, but lets just ignore that for the sake of a better story. So he actually strolls over to the couch, and Alyssa "discreetly" scoots over, and he sits down and introduces himself. And the conversation that ensued was terrible. Terrible in that it was dull. I tried, I really did. After many awkward silences I decided I was, for once, going to settle for a pretty face instead of intelligent conversation for the night, and attempt to make something happen with this guy. Now, what happens next is extremely fuzzy, so I am going to describe the action as I remember it: in bits and pieces.

I make brief conversation about the party.
He tells me he is in AGR (the agricultural frat on campus. yuck.)
Look past this. He is hot.
He sees an opening for a joke.
Laugh laugh, touch the knee.
In doing so, spill some beer.
Oops, lots of beer spilled.
Get up to get clean.
Bathroom? Possibly.
Return.
Damn.
New guy in green-eye guy's spot.
New guy: "Hey there girlie! Took your spot. Don't shoot me!!"
Shoot me now.
Green-eye boy gazes at me with sexy eyes and shrugs helplessly.
They are buddies.
Great.
Stuck on edge of couch with Mr. Douchebag.
Douchebag wants to compare "once I was so drunk..." stories.
Fuck that shit.
Get up to grab beer bong sitting on table and grab Jessie.
Two of us. Beer bong.
Green-eyed guy helps hold my bong tube??? Possibly.
Sit back down.
Mr. Douchebag slides in next to me.
Male friend arrives at party, let him be called "Charlie".
Charlie sits on my other side.
Savior.
Long long convo with Charlie about God-knows-what.
Corner of my eye, see Jessie stand up off of couch and walk onto dance floor.
Sophie gets off couch, goes upstairs.
Alyssa joins Jessie on dance floor.
Alone on couch with Charlie, Mr. Douchbag, and green-eyed guy.
I get awkward.
Stand up.
Join Jessie and Alyssa.
What happened?

This is what I do remember clearly: Jessie's story. Mr. Douchebag had challenged Jessie's hardcore-ness with beer chugging. Sophie chimes in with how her little brother is a hard core beer chugger. Mr. Douchebag tells Sophie that her little brother should join AGR. Jessie: "EW. HAHA. EW. NO WAY. FUCK THAT FRAT. EW! THEY ARE SO LAME HAHA." Jessie thought it was a joke. Mr. Douchebag promptly gets extremely offended and turns into Mr. Drunken-rage-douchebag. Awkwardness ensues. Everyone disperses.

R.I.P opportunity with green-eyed guy.

Later on in the party we eye each other while he is standing next to Mr. Douchebag and he half-smiles and shrugs again. Nice.

Jessie was terribly sorry about my missed opportunity but replies with: "You would never want to hook up with an AGR anyway."

The End.

Epilogue: Chad, the roommate, is molested later on by this freakishly tall lacrosse-playing girl who's line was "I can body-check girls onto the field." She shoved him up against the kitchen counter and proceeded to make out with him. The four of us stood in the front doorway and pointed and giggled like middle schoolers at them. She looked up and saw us, so out of shame we closed the front door. Later on, as we are walking home, Chad calls us, finds out where we are, runs to catch up, and then goes into a 15 minute long monologue about how he was molested that night in the kitchen by the giant.

Peace out lovers.

sweet vids

Brief chit chat:
I put in a video thingie at the bottom. The keywords I put into the search were: "Juno", "Almost Famous", "superbad", "funnyordie" and "perezhilton". Basically if you hit "refresh" in your browser then a new batch of lovely videos will show up. Yay for sexy vids!

SoHority chicks........have nothing to do with this post

My friend just totally cracked me up with that clever little phrase. We will call this friend, "Alyssa". Thanks Alyssa for brightening not just my day, but my blog post title as well.

So I'm sitting here listening to Jason Schwartzman's new solo music project, Coconut Records. Absolutely incredible. Here is what blows my mind: HOW CAN ONE FAMILY BE SO TALENTED. Let me count the ways: Jason Schwartzman, Francis Ford Coppola, Sofia Coppola, Robert Carmine (of Rooney) and Nicolas Cage. I mean, come on. The Hollywood Coppola family is just ridiculously blessed with talent. It's time they spread the love a bit.

On a completely different note...

One thing that I will give to Myspace (I usually loathe myspace and its crazily disorganized antics, with 8 year olds and their neon purple backgrounds and flashing multi-colored hearts,) is that the "Currently Listening" feature is pretty sweet. I will give them that. I wish this thingie had that. Maybe I will start just writing that into the beginning of my blogs. HAH. Take that Tom.

So here is a little anecdote from the other day:
So I am sitting in my Italian class and before the professor comes in (hes religiously late) these girls are discussing movies. Now, little do they know who they are in the room with; I am a notorious movie snob, but not just a snob, I am also super opinionated and get frustrated when people see differently. Now, I see the obnoxiousness in this, and I also see the contradiction: one of the reasons why I love movies so much is their ability to tie people together in ways that other mediums only attempt in vain. But still. It is so hard for me to sit in a room with a group of people who talk about "that gay cowboy movie" without having an aneurysm. (You know what movie I'm talking about- I mean give the goddamn art some credit! That label it has been given is so belittling. I could go on....but I'll spare you the rant.) Anyway, I digress. So these girls are chatting about recent films. The two that they bring up are Sweeny Todd and Juno. Now, one girl says "I saw the musical and it was sooooo much better. They cut out like 5 songs in the movie! Terrible!" Now, me, who can't keep her big mouth shut, lean over and say, with a sweet smile: "Well, I guess it would be a little difficult to have a 3.5 hour movie. You know? Movies don't have intermissions. Gotta cut it down somewhere!" So this girl looks at me like "Who the hell are you?" but says "Yeah. I guess. Whatever." Victory. So then this other girl says: "Well OK that Juno movie? I mean, so many Hollywood movies these days are against abortion! Knocked Up?! She doesn't even consider an abortion! And Juno?! Just the mere mention of fingernails makes her turn around and have the baby!" My God. So of course, after another girl does a shitty job of trying to explain why this is a ludicrous statement, I pipe in again: "Well with Knocked Up, I mean...you wouldn't have a movie if she didn't decide to keep the baby. I mean, they would meet, and then have sex, then get pregnant, and have an abortion. No conflict there. No movie. And with Juno, same exact thing." Luckily all the girls around me pipe in and support this claim, but that one girl just STARES me down. I mean trust me, I am pro-choice just as much as the next Californian, but I mean, give Hollywood some credit. Sometimes you have to set aside the reality in order to get a good story. I'm sorry, but what idiots.

So, apart from making enemies in Italian class, I have been trying to get applications done. And failing. Seriously, I don't know about you guys, but I find that the more responsibilities I have, the less responsible I become. Example #1: I am going to an ice hockey party tomorrow night instead of staying home and reading like I should be. Glorious.

Peace out homes. Time for some shuteye.

p.s-

my grammar and spelling suck huge balls. I apologize. Move on.

throw some d's

Just for clarification: I know that the title of my blog may be misleading, but I am not a burn victim. The title was chosen for its similarity to the best movie in existence, and also for it's relevance to the blogging world.

Just thought I should clear that up.

In other news-- I have made the executive decision to not tell any of my close friends/relatives/peers/neighbors/pets etc. about this blog. Honestly, it's a little embarrassing. Here I am, blogging away like an asshole. The last time anyone did this when it was cool was in the 6th grade when everyone created a blog and documented the woes of the last school dance, their favorite Backstreet Boys song and the unfairness of Mrs. Stevenson and her evil math problems.

So, I will write this anonymously and without any one's knowledge. Blogging is kind of weird when you know no one is reading it because you still are writing TOO someone, but this someone is just...the vast endlessness of the Internet.

That brings me to another point: obviously my name is not Bea. This is a pseudonym I have chosen randomly for this blog, and I will continue to use pseudonyms for any names I bring up. For example, lets call the University that I attend: The University of California at Cowtown. UCC for short. Excellent.

I am about to go to Jewish Studies class where we learn about Jews in Hollywood. I already missed two classes today because I slept through my alarm because I was up late making this thing......I'm a great student. Something you should know about me.

OK lovely readers, or rather, non-readers, I'm off too class.

Adios.

Hello All

162 days until I move to L.A...

Blogging always seemed a tad self-indulgent to me (why the hell should you care what I have to say?) but I was inspired, quite honestly, by Diablo Cody's blog. If you haven't read it, please do. She is hilarious, insightful and honest: my three favorites.

This is the blog of a college Junior, living in California (born and raised; I did live in Texas for one year when I was 4, but clearly I was held there against my will). I don't really fancy myself a writer, although I am an English minor (with a double major in Film Studies and Communication), nor do I fancy myself particularly hilarious nor insightful, but, honest I can do.

I will do my best to update, although I've never been one to stick to things 'till the end. Like when I was young and my parents would take me to a museum and I would insist on getting a drawing pad and pastels at the gift shop because I was going to be the next Degas and two days later the dirty pad and broken pastels would be left on the floor of the kitchen never to be touched again.

I suppose that since hardly anyone will be reading this (most likely no one)-- this blog will mostly be for myself. See? Like I said. Self-indulgence. But let me explain.

My dream in life (at least-currently) is too work in the film industry. Yes, Hollywood. Cue the rolling of the eyes. But it's not like I want to pack up a tiny pink suitcase and move into a sad apartment and become a poor, starving actress. No, no. I wanna be a Producer...drink champagne until I puke. You know how the rest of the song goes. No, but in all seriousness, that is an ambition of mine, albeit a far-fetched one. Movies simply make me happy in the purest and most real way that I know. (I will write another blog entry all about that grand epiphany- don't you worry, since obvi you were). As for now, I am perfectly content to immerse myself in the industry in any way possible. As for now, I am interested in any and all aspects of it. I ain't picky. So, this summer I have been accepted to USC's School of Cinematic Arts summer program will I will take a class that will "introduce me to the film industry". I am also applying for a gazillion internships in Los Angeles for the summer as well, so I can get more hands-on experience. I am so excited, nervous, ready and waiting.

This blog will aim to document my college woes and foes, my journey to Hollywood, and it will also be a place for me to discuss life, the universe and everything.

Enjoy.