Chasing my Paycheck.

My paycheck and expense reimbursement didn't arrive in the mail on Friday. So. I had to call the General Manager of the company. Then the company that pays us. Because they are two different things. That's so we can be freelance. And we don't have to be employees. Which means no taxes for anyone. Which means my meager income is going to take a hit after I file my taxes, but I can't even go there now. So anyway, the guy from the paycheck writing company really didn't care that the check was 3 days late or that I was sick and it was Friday and the rent is due on Sunday. He did however offer to reissue the check if I drove to Torrance to pick it up. Which I did. You better believe I'm charging them for that time. So now, I can pay my rent. And my bills. And pay for the rental car and food for the Sephora workers on my next trip. And I'm currently only $1,000 out-of-pocket. Yes, still. They have a screwy billing system which means a month later I'm reimbursed. Which is what it is. Screwy. But. My rent will be on time. Which is good. I am home. Which is good. I can write until Thursday, when I leave. Oh. And I have a date. Which might even be the best news of all.

My Meds Are Working.

Oh happy day. Or at least happy-er. Yesterday wasn't so pretty. Have you ever coughed so hard you've thrown up? Yeah, that probably pretty much falls in the category of things I shouldn't share. I didn't plan to, but it kind of surprised me that it happened. The upside? I now have clean floors. Luckily, the cough seems to have died down today. Although I will miss the ab workout, I don't like cleaning all that much.

I guess it's a good thing I got sick since I still haven't gotten paid and would have never been able to foot the bill for another trip's out of pocket expenses. I am getting a little bit tired of trying to figure out how to make it work all the time. Who to borrow from until I'm reimbursed, what bill to put off paying, what appointment to cancel, and just how many times I can be ignored when asking for my money. It's kind of a bummer to actually have money but not have it. I'm really ready to have it. Although Skunk dodged another bullet since I didn't have the cash.


I do know all of this is a lesson. I have had many lessons. Many, many lessons. I am ready for the lessons to be over, too. Or at least I'd like a little vacation from them... a spring break maybe. Who cares if it's spring or not? Or if I'm 38 years-old? I submitted my Modern Love piece today. Fingers and toes crossed. Actually, cross anything and everything in sight. I do have a good feeling about it. They say they respond in 2-4 weeks. One of my friends sold an essay today to Written By which is the Writer's Guild magazine. He sent it in on Tuesday and got a phone call from them today wanting to buy it. That's pretty cool. I'm happy for him. I'm starting in on my next essay night. Maybe it should be for Written By. How great would that be if I sold an essay to that magazine right after I got dumped by the Writer's Guild?

How Sick I Am.

I have a sinus infection. A very bad I'm-not-on-the-airplane-I'm-supposed-to-be-on-today one. A $130 doctor visit-$60 antibiotic-and-$10 parking fee one. Which makes the whole not being on an airplane for a trip which would have paid for the Sinus Infection Get Well Plan much easier. And rent. The trip would have also paid my rent. It's easier to get healthy when you have a place to sleep and live. This no insurance and freelance thing does blow. I like stability. I miss stability. Insurance. Things like that. Oddly, I'm not depressed though. Sometimes, the pain makes me want to cry. But that's different.

There was a potentially cry worthy issue this morning when I called the doctor needing an appointment and they didn't want to see me. The issue being that they stopped billing me for my allergy shots and I still owe them $400. Apparently they stopped billing me because I stopped going because the shots were costing $160 a month which I clearly don't have. So I was making payments until the invoices stopped coming. Then I stopped sending money because I'm so busy sending it to other people that I can't keep up with who I owe unless they invoice me. So they didn't want to let me see the doctor unless I paid for the visit ($130) and the balance ($400). The visit money, well that I have. The rest? Well that I don't. I explained to the receptionist that I called and cleared up the issue already with the woman who does the billing and was making payments. I didn't mention that I did it after I got a nasty note a few months back with the first invoice in so many months. The note kind of made me mad. I've been going to that doctor for something like twelve years. And the woman who does the billing has been there the whole time. We talk. Or at least we used to. Before she got mean. That whole being a have not really shifts the way people treat you, you know? Anyway, they finally gave me an appointment. But when I was leaving and paying? I had to go through the same damn wanting me to pay the balance thing. With the doctor standing right there. The same doctor who asked if I'm working and how my career is going and why I'm not getting allergy shots. To which I replied with the whole no insurance thing. He told me he pays $6,000 a month for his employees insurance. Maybe I should work for him.

Well, the z-pack is starting to work. Which makes me happy. I had to sleep sitting up last night just so I could breathe. It was like flying on the red eye just with no air and pain.

I kind of got sick out of nowhere. One minute, I was walking with Romy... well, for four hours, actually. Which makes it like 240 minutes, but you get the idea... I was well and then I wasn't. I don't think the sick thing had to do with the four hour walk. I think it's the galavanting about the U.S. and flying in packed airplanes and getting no rest and being the most allergic person in America. But a girl's gotta do what she's gotta do. I just worry it's not really helping. And maybe even hurting my intellect. I know it's hurting my ability to write. At least it's not hurting my ability to sleep.

I'll Take My Bed. And Sleep in It.

And enjoy it. Last night I did. Even if I slept alone. Well, not alone. There was Skunk. She's become quite the lover. Not in that way. But she cuddles. Which is nice. And greets me when I come in the door. Then she jumps around all excited when I'm home. Talks. And stays in far more than she used to. I hope that doesn't all change after she gets fixed. I hate having to fix her. But it's not like I can have a heart to heart talk with her about sex and go from there. No. At the end of the day, she is a cat. Only a cat. And she's going to do the cat thing thing no matter what I say.

Okay, moving past the cat of it all. It was great to be home. Wake up at home. Even tired. I'd rather be tired at home than be tired somewhere else. When it happens somewhere else it feels all wrong. Like, what a waste. A waste of another place. Not to mention, when you're tired, who wants to have to think about stuff? Like what you want and what and need and just where you can get it. Under those circumstances, it's nice to not have to look for things or ask for directions to find them. And. There are the little things, too. Just to be able to open a window when you need air. Have a comforter that's soft. And make coffee in your own coffee maker. Hear your home phone ring. Even if it is a telemarketer. And have all the things that are old seem new again. Given that I've been home so little in the last few month, pretty much everything does. Everything is getting that new car smell. Keep in mind that I've never had a new car. And I washed mine for the first time in 2 months right before I left. Mainly because I haven't been here and it was sitting outside. Besides, that whole getting my car totaled after taking good care of it and getting nothing for it once it was gone? Well it kind of removed that whole impetus to preserve this one in just the same way. I know it's a shame. But it's the truth.

All that being said, I feel kind of like I'm in the home stretch. That this is happening for a reason. That there's an end in sight. Although I have no idea what it is. I have no more insurance than before. And more doors slam in my face every day. But what can you do? Get on another plane. Pay another bill. And hope it all leads somewhere. Next up is Florida. Then Portland, Oregon. And New Jersey... and New York. I can hardly wait. Oh, and out of pocket? I'm at $1500. And Little Will? He's now on my lap.

Standing By is Good on Flights if Not in Life

Sometimes on trips that I'm just not feeling, I wake up and say, I'm done. This was one of those trips. Arizona was one of those trips. That's when I call the airline. I see what the change fee is and if it's less than the hotel and car rental fee for staying longer, I'm out of there. So. That's what I was told by this very chipper American Airlines rep this am. That's all it took to put me into hustle mode and get out of dodge. I was all excited about home until I got a call from the travel agent saying that the woman was mistaken, the change fee was not just $50 but also $280. That. Not so good. I had checked out of the hotel and into Starbuck's. I had an hour until I had to buy food and train people. Two groups of people. And my spot in the hotel? It was taken. And my bottle of Chardonnay? I gave it to the front desk clerk. She was nice, it was a good bottle. And hey, people handing out alcohol to me has never been a bad thing. Still. I wanted to go home. So I called American Airlines. Somehow. I managed to -- by telling the truth, mind you-- which only works on certain occasions -- get this supervisor to allow me to go standby the day before my scheduled flight. Amen to that. The trainings went off without a hitch. I love the skincare lead at Dadeland. The whole "cast" are actually super cool and made an impression on me when I was there in July. Still, there's no place like home. They warned me I'd hit traffic. I didn't. The rental car was half what I expected. Which I may not be paying for in the long run-- but I am now. Less out of pocket, not bad. And once I got to Miami International? The front desk clerk let me do the standby and even though I was one of those specially selected searches by the TSA (yes, the same people who ruined my clothes)-- I made it to the gate and onto my flight. And a little girl named Sophia sitting next to me even made me a drawing. Complete with a lot of happy faces. I didn't even care when she kicked me as she slept. The parking shuttle? Came immediately. More money saved for the company. I'm good without even trying. Who knew?

Then, I got home to a place to park. Skunk. Funny, purring Skunk. An email requesting services in New Jersey (I can visit Kate-- on them!!!). And Ohio (I can see Cleveland where Drew Carey was based... well, why not, right?). So I replied like the idiot I am. Because although I don't feel like a writer right now or feel like I have time to write. Or like I have a home, I am paying my bills again. And since Kelly is moving out December 1, I have to have funds to move or stay or whatever is supposed to happen with me... I'd like to think there's a plan somewhere. Even if it isn't mine. There will be no Skunk and Will watcher giving them love who they love. Home base will be less homey. But there comes a time we all have to move on.

And me, I seem to move from airport to airport. From city to city. After three years of going absolutely nowhere. Now I'm getting frequent flyer miles. Seeing things and people and malls I'd never thought I'd see. I love LA a little more. I can't wait to be stuck here again. In a good job. And use those miles to take a trip somewhere I really want to go.

What Time is It?

I am quite confused.

After having a lovely time in Virginia Beach (thank God!) even though there weren't any sand castles (I was there pre-Neptune Festival), I drove 6 hours to Solebury PA where my cousin lives with his family. It was the strangest road trip ever. To say the least, it scared the shit out of me when I was driving over this long, single lane bridge that goes over the ocean from VA to MD. Or was it Delaware? I think Delaware. Anyway, it was a beautiful, awesome sight. Did I mention I can't swim? I won't forget that view. Ever. It was **pardon me for saying this** so movie. The towns I went through were random and odd and made me wonder what determines how someone ends up there and how they're ever able to leave. And what they do to pay their bills when they're there. Although, let's be honest-- these are not places where Gucci and Prada are household names. Rather, they have on the fly flea markets for people driving through. And signs posted selling fish, fruits and vegetables. I should have gotten pictures. I hate when I don't get pictures.

My cousin and his family were amazing. I love the town where they live. It's quaint, yet hip. Close to NYC and Philadelphia. Dorothy Parker got married there. There are lots of trees. So many trees. And land. Everyone has land. And sushi. They have sushi. Great sushi. The work? Not the best part. It's always disconcerting to hit these small towns who have no reps who ever visit the stores so the people who work at the store are a little too excited to see you. (Perhaps that's what men feel like when they date me). I met a miner who had the odd problem of dirt and dust in her skin clogging her pores and the heat aging her skin. Not to mention, a husband who looked down on her because of what she did for a living. That one's a toughie. All the way around. Her husband and skin and being a miner...? Then there was the BBW employee who had gastric bypass and was so sweet to tell me I'm stunning and that my not having a husband had nothing to do with me. In the end, I lost track of time, worked two hours longer than I was supposed to and trained everyone in the store. I also missed having dinner wtih my cousin and his daughters which was a bummer. But I had to remember why I was there in the first place and just what was paying the bills. Which is still hard to wrap my head around. So many things I'd rather to do to pay the bills. But travel is a bonus. But so is staying home and not needing to. See that whole confusing thing? My out of pocket expenses? Well, they're up to $1200. Not including the whole lamp-bed fiasco. Which was not settled by a letter from Ramada saying they couldn't do a thing because they're independently owned and operated and my best recourse would be to talk to the management. I can't even go there.

I got home Monday night at midnight. I left Wednesday night on the red eye to Miami. I didn't want to go. Still don't want to be here. But I have to be. I worked today. Now I'm in my hotel room and am hungry. But have no energy to go in quest of food. And this place is not the kind of place that has room service. It's ** surprise ** another Ramada Inn. Although, much better than the other. The good news re: the no energy and no room service? No money is spent and I'm not gaining any weight. And I can pay my bills. It's good to be able to pay my bills. I have to conduct 2 trainings tomorrow. Needless to say, I'm not looking like a skincare guru right now what with the flights and the lack of sleep. I'm sure I'm a huge selling point. But what can you do? I head back on Saturday morning. I have until Tuesday. To see my cats. My friends. Write. Dryclean and wash stuff. Wish me luck. Or sleep. I'd settle for sleep.

I do so want to and need to stop moving long enough to write. To sleep.

There is an Upside or Catch 31

Yesterday I decided that a bad day had to have a good ending. Or a good view. Or at the very least, I should see Virginia Beach. Even though I knew nothing about it. I had no idea about the Neptune Festival where people build huge, elaborate sandcastles or the wine tasting weekend. The dolphins that you can see from the boardwalk in both the morning and the night. Or the rocking chairs you can sit in while watching a live band. And that you can sit at Catch 31, have a cocktail and nosh by the firepit, watch the sunset and dance on the boardwalk to the aforementioned live band... until the wee hours of morning.

Somehow, on a very unlucky day, I got lucky. I turned left. I parked in the wrong parking structure. And I saw the statue of King Neptune. I saw the band. And I sat down at the bar. Then I met Nacho. Who is really a white guy named Michael but he thought Nacho was funnier. Which it is. And Nacho is funny. And sweet. Super sweet. He gave me free wine. He said I was hot. Which was more enjoyable than the wine. He filled me in on the scene, the culture. And informed me that I somehow happened upon THE place to be in Virginia Beach on the beach. Which as catches work, was a good one.

As the sun began to set, I had some interesting convos with a bunch of different people and ended up hanging out with two lovely businessmen in suits who I conned into dancing with me. They didn't hit on me. They were fun. They told me I was fun. Which was... fun. It's good to have fun again. It's good to know that fun can make a difference in a day. For the better. That men can be men and be fun. And a white guy can be named Nacho for no reason whatsoever.

My Traveling Days Are Numbered aka the Ramada Inn in Richmond Ripped Me Off

I read my horoscope every day at elle.com. But I didn't read today's because yesterday was such a traveling nightmare. I should have known not to travel when I was too sick to make the original flight on Monday... but I'm working freelance and if I don't fly and don't work, then I don't have money. Which is the thing that really sucks about freelance. There is no such thing as a sick day. Or if there is, you have to pay for it.

Because I was still not feeling so well and it was early in the am, I decided to take a cab to the airport. Only the cab didn't show up when it was supposed to show up. And when it did? The cab driver drove slow because he kept saying I was going to miss my plane-- that it was too late. Which I did. Miss my plane. By 15 minutes (I was there 45 minutes before boarding but that's too late nowadays) and ATA had no other flights going to Richmond, Virginia. And the guy behind the counter did not care. So I had to talk my way onto another flight on another airline which was three hours later. Which I was lucky to do. Thank God for that nice man who I'm sure just wanted me to step away from his counter. So what should have been a jaunt across the country became an entire day in a variety of airports.

I got to the Ramada Inn at midnight where it turned out that their wireless internet was not working. Yes, this happens alot when I travel. Maybe I have some crazy electrical impulse in my brain that shorts it before I arrive or something. I don't know. So I couldn't work. So why not unpack? Well, when I opened my suitcase, I saw that all my clothes were covered in every lotion and gel that was packed in plastic which no longer was because the guys searching the luggage couldn't be bothered to close the containers and reseal the plastic bags. So everything I just had drycleaned that I need to wear to work in was no longer clean and I could no longer wear it. I tried to rinse the lotion out of the things that were washable, but they're still wet. And my brand new can of hairspray? The lid was taken off and the entire contents had sprayed into my suitcase all over my socks and sweats. Which are now hard and sticky and smell like fumes. I thought that was bad enough. But then, the horoscope of it all. Which if I would have read, I would have seen that today also was going to be a horrible day.


For September 14: First thing this morning, it may appear that others are deliberately being difficult or argumentative. Perhaps they are, but your impatience may make things feel worse than they actually are. Throughout the morning and afternoon, you stumble upon a multitude of annoying mistakes, negligence or half-witted service. You can yank out another tuft of your own hair each and every time, but run the risk of being bald before the end of the day. By late evening, you finally start to calm down and recognize that most of these problems are temporary and in the eye of the beholder. Another thing: your attitude gradually improves, which changes everything.



So what was so horrible about today besides only getting 3 hours of sleep before doing a training and having nothing appropriate to wear? Well, this is where it gets good. I was accused of breaking the bed and a lamp during my stay and they charged my credit card for it without even speaking to me. Which turned out to be the travel agent's credit card. So I called this Sayid person who refused to listen when I told him I was only in the room from midnight to 7am, that all I did was sleep and shower. That I didn't even unpack (as there was no point if I couldn't wear anything). Sayid said he had checked the room himself and the lamp was broken. There were three lamps in the room. I didn't even use or touch the lamp he said I broke. I only used one. The one in between the two beds. Sayid did not care about that at all. He said he had attorneys and I would pay. As for the bed, I asked him what I apparently did to break it. How does a single person break a bed when all they do is sleep? He said that was okay because housekeeping managed to fix it. Which makes me wonder if housekeeping the lamp and needed a scapegoat. Which was me. It turns out the lamp was $30. Still, it was the principle. And the fact that he accused me, charged me and didn't listen to reason. Who does that? Aren't hotels in the business of customer service?

Well, I called customer service and they wrote down my complaint but said they couldn't do anything about it because all Ramada Inns were independently owned and operated. And the point of customer service is...? Tonight I'm staying in. I'm going to write. And try like hell to make something come to fruition soon because clearly this whole traveling thing is a sign. I wonder if any other Aries had a day like that? For their sake, I hope not. Like that happiness guru said, people have a harder time with the little things that go wrong because the big things they can rationalize. I don't know one way or another. Big things, little things. Bad is never good.

I Did Not Get on a Plane but I Did The Hook Up...For Someone Else!

I think I have a sinus infection. Which started with a migraine. Hence not wanting to pack, me thinks. Or sit on a plane. Which I didn't do. I did instead, plan for other trips. And send cover letters and resumes for other jobs. And change my flight to Wednesday. So I'm doing a shorter, gentler jaunt to Richmond, VA & Virginia Beach and Langhorne, PA. Virginia Beach is supposed to be quite the quaint little area. Southwest even wrote about them in their flight magazine. Richmond? Not so sure about. But someone has to go to the places no one else wants to go. Now, that would be me. At the tail end of the trip I get to see my oldest cousin and his family. He's the one who invited me to Martha's Vineyard for a family vacation in 2001. I'd never been on a family vacation. Unless you count funerals. My family traveled together for funerals. Anyway, we got back literally a week before September 11th. I haven't seen him since then and am very excited. And he acts excited, too. Always. Must love that. Family who is excited to see you. The novelty of that never wears off.

And then today, I discovered that an email I got from a friend from the past who sent me his info re: taking over as President of some film company (not that he wanted to read my un-represented material...sigh) that I forwarded on to my friend Steve was actually helpful. Steve forgot he knew him. Happened to have a script in the genre they're looking for and the two of them reconnected and everyone is happy. Steve offered to buy me another couch if the company buys the script. I told him I'd settle for a purse or a pair of glasses. Although some purses do cost what a couch does, if you're Lindsay Lohan or Paris Hilton, I am not. I want Steve to save his money. Not to say that I won't work for purses, clothes, glasses and all manner of things that I need. Boots. A new pair of boots would be good, too. I do like Marc Jacobs for boots. And those aren't cheap. Okay, I'm rambling about things I can't afford. And I'm not even medicated. Off to take my medication...

Another Day, Another Psychic or There is a Happy Ending

Yes, it's true. Under financial duress, I found a psychic who would not only do a reading, but a good reading. For cheap. And let me send her a check after I get paid. She was a psychic second opinion. And basically mirrored the predictions of Laura. With just a little more to chew on, if you will. A little more unusual stuff. Since she doesn't know me it felt real. And I do feel kind of like things are shifting and I'm letting go. And I'm not sure why I am, of what or exactly what that means. But things feel different. So I just kind of thought... why not? It would be nice to know that the direction I'm heading is the right one. This psychic saw me pretty accurately. Which is always disconcerting and comforting at the same time. Being seen. And understood... yes, there's that concept again. As if. Well anyway, if a psychic can't get you, who can? It made for a good morning. A good story. And a good story about me where I get my happy ending. I'll take that any day.

My happy ending? A man who gets me, loves me and two children... His. With me. Success. As a writer. She used that often coined phrase, "right around the corner" for the man. Which has turned out to be little longer corner than I had anticipated. But the same use of the same phrase over and over again does seem like a person should pay attention to it.
I just hope he shows up before he jaywalks and gets hit by a bus or something. He's supposed to be 6'3". Maybe he's still growing. I'm willing to take any excuse for his tardiness at this point.

She also mentioned that old script I wrote which didn't sell. And said it wasn't dead. So had Laura. And that guy on the airplane. So I'm pullling it out and seeing what about it can work. She said I'd learned my lessons. And I won't make them again. Hallelulah. She also explained why one particular person is in my brain and I can't extricate said person which is quite frustrating. And painful. Extrication sounds much less painful than how it's hurt my heart. A frontal lobotomy sounds less painful. She said we knew each other in a past life. And pegged certain behaviors, if you will. From me and him. I'm not sure if you people believe in past lives. But it does make sense on some level if you meet someone and it's like you always knew them and you're drawn to them and behave in abnormal ways for you just with them. Yada yada yada.

This psychic also communicates with the dead. Which led Kelly and me to a conversation about the dead who love you and surround you and watch over you. Who have been in your house and know when you're sad. Do they also know and see when you're having a one night stand? Not that I've had one of those in years... and I think I only had one ever. But are they watching? And do they know if a person masturbates? I'll stay moot on the whole masturbation thing. Some things are better left unsaid. Caren said if you want privacy, you should just tell the spirits to be gone. Which is hysterical. What's the point of being a spirit if you can't be a voyeur? Although family members shouldn't want to see some things. That's just creepy. Spirit or not.

Today after an excellent haircut from Romy, I wrote and had dinner with a friend... and didn't pack. I really should have packed. But I don't want to pack. I don't really want to go on this trip. Although I do want to see my cousin, Jeff and his family-- who I missed the last trip. He was kind enough to send me an email tonight to check in and make sure all was going as planned. He was kind enough to care. I'm a sucker for a caring male. Actually, I'm a sucker for an uncaring male. Probably more so. Working on that. Still. Working on that. My flight is supposed to leave at 8:50am tomorrow morning. I'm sure it will. But I won't be on it. Welcome back to standby, my friends. It's just. I've been gone so much. And I still have so much to do. I have two jobs to apply to tomorrow am -- which has been-- along with trying to find a man to actually find me rest of life worthy and vice versa, my full time job for the last five years. I feel like I should get a gold star for my efforts. Or at least a paper hat. Red. With sparkles. Which I would be more than happy to wear on a later flight. After I pick up the birth control pills that better be working. Because something is not happening which should be-- maybe it's on Japanese time or some other time or on some other planet that United flies to. At least it's not generic time. I solved that. But it would be immaculate conception anyway. I think. Kidding. I know. Let's just say, it's not possible that it could be anything other than lost.

When I was working at Downtown Disney this week -- yes, a hip mall in Anaheim, California-- which I have no idea how it actually connects to Disneyland-- I kept meeting 25 year-old girls with 5 and 6 year olds. The 25 year-olds that were just married said they felt behind. I didn't even go there. Which is rare for me. Not to go somewhere i shouldn't. This week, I'm going back to Virginia and the Pentagon and Georgetown-- back to my crazy boat friends who like to dance and a married political lawyer who liked to feel me up (which I didn't like so much)-- hence, me not seeing him. I think I'm going to be hotel room girl and get work done this trip, though. Until I hit Virginia Beach. Can even out my tan lines. Take a walk and prepare to see more normal members of my family. Proof that the gene pool is not entirely messed up. And in fact, may even show promise. I'll take promise any day.

And now, I'll take a little sleep. I have a big day ahead of me. And apparently, a very big year. Now how cool would that be if the 5 people reading my blog could say, that they read me back when?

Back from the Brink

Well, sort of. I mean, I did have a slight meltdown yesterday. After the whole WGA thing. Okay, it was bigger than slight. Because I felt slighted. That little WGA card made me feel like I was legitimate to someone or at least some organization. That they hadn't given up on me. Oh, well. At least I still get to see free Academy consideration movies until the end of the year.

To be honest (which we all know I can't stop myself from being... try as I may) the meltdown probably wouldn't have been so severe if I hadn't gone to meet on a job that my friend recommended me for-- drove all the way to Brentwood in Friday traffic, spent two hours meeting with the employer people only to discover that the pay was only $300 a week. In that time, I could have been writing. Or at least thinking about writing. When I told my friend thanks for the opportunity but I need to make more money than that-- I mean, fixing Skunk costs $292 (and I'm praying she doesn't go into heat before I get paid). Fixing me is bound to take a lot more money than that. Although, it is a whole different kind of fixing. My friend herself is doing the $300 a week job because she's a mom, can do it from home. And actually has a home and a husband who's a dentist (translated to mean the whole supporting herself on $300 a week isn't necessary. So I don't think it occurred to her that I need to be able to do that. That's what I told the employer people. I said, "Sorry, but it's just me." They actually looked sorry for me. But not so sorry that they'd pay more than that. What can you do? They have a pretty house. They want to keep it.

I did come up with another reality show idea. I'm going to work on an outline. I think it could be good if all the elements came together. Of course. I just need elements. Lots and lots of elements. Pray for me for the elements. I'm getting kind of tired of this beauty-on-the-go thing. I'm out-of-pocket $886. And Monday, I head out on another trip. I had a whole discussion with the new general manager about how imperative it is the company either speeds up the reimbursement process or adds direct deposit or provides travel advances or a company credit card. Any of these would be palatable options and perhaps good solutions that would make my life 100% less stressful. Not that the company cares, but I do. I had to borrow $1,000 today to cover the amount I'm out of pocket for them since I'm leaving on another trip for a week, get paid while I'm out of town, and have to incur a whole new slew of out-of-pocket expenses. I can hardly wait to see how much I have to borrow next month. It's almost become a game. Almost. Games are fun.

I Am No Longer A WGA Member

It is quite sad. I am quite sad. I didn't even know they did that. But I guess it makes sense. And here's me.. all ready to picket for America's Next Top Model to help the reality writers. I know how great health benefits are and residuals. They helped me. Very, very much. I'll probably still picket. But with a little less enthusiasm. No, that's not fair. I'll picket just as hard. It's not their fault I've produced diddly. Made diddly.

I have not had health benefits for three years. It made a difference. Those are good things. So are green envelopes (residuals). They are a reminder of what you were and what you can be. I hope to be more. And to get my membership back. And lots more little green envelopes. And I hope that reality writers get those, too.

I Look Funny Naked

And it's not entirely my fault. There is the jigsaw puzzle of a tan situation. And the tan lines. But the bikini wax-- well, I did not tell Anya to get that into it. I thought it would hurt a lot more if she was going to do so much. Apparently, I'm getting accustomed to pain. I only flinched once. And now? I'm kind of embarrassed to even think it's me. Or maybe I mean disturbed. And back to embarrassed. Because it was kind of a waste. Honolulu/Oahu/Waikiki is not the island to be worrying about things like bikini waxes or diets or frankly, much of anything having to do with your appearance. Yes, it's all about the l scenery there -- but when I say that, I mean ACTUAL scenery. Like oceans and sea life and greenery and all those postcard worthy views you read about. Not people. Like in LA. The most happening place we found to go out? It was in a mall. Yes. A mall. Can you imagine? But it did have good food and two happy hours and locals and cool music. So there you go. When in Honolulu...

Which translates to mean that Romy and I were VERY economical. And in at a decent time. (Again, a waste). There were a few military hotties who had to evacuate some other island. But they were there one minute in their camouflage gear and gone the next. Although they did wave...

Romy and got a chance to explore around my work schedule. Diamond Head and Hanauma Bay and the North Shore. We even found the base camp for "Lost". We both knew the hair and make up guy-- I had sent him stuff when I worked in fashion and beauty pr and Romy had worked with him a long time ago. They had wanted her to work on the show but 9 months in Honolulu for a single woman... well, I wouldn't have done it either. Every man we met that was white and not in the military? Was from Orange County. And the sad thing is, I called it every single time. Huntington Beach, Long Beach (not technically the OC but it may as well be...). Cute surfers... who came there to surf. So you get the picture. I can't even swim. But Romy can. She snorkeled.



Working at the Sephora there wasn't so bad. But it was the most exhausting training day I've ever had. Ten hours straight. Starting at 5am... I've never had so many people show up and show up so excited. It was a little too much popularity for me. And quite confusing. But they were super sweet. And shared local info. Without Carol, we would have never known where to go... three nights in a row. When in Rome... It's crazy how Prada stays open till 11pm there and there's no Victoria's Secret or Bath & Body Works... and that's a problem. The culture seems to exist for tourism. Which is mind boggling. Much like the differences in the economic brackets throughout the island.... and that there are so many versions of asian culture. So many hapas. Hey, I learned a word! And I relaxed. And ate sushi at a very authentic sushi place that was recommended by the guy who fixed our air conditioner and which oddly enough, still has a picture of Sylvester Stallone on the wall... wearing a pink suit...? (Although to be honest, he still might...) But the yellowtail was the best I've ever tasted. And the cab driver? The funniest.

The flight home even worked... in an entirely full plane I got the single seat without someone sitting next to me. And all because this very scared older woman who was reading and reciting the bible sat in my seat and me? After seeing her bible, I felt too bad to make her move for me and so I went and took her seat... so there you go. A little reward. Not bad for a week's work. Happy Hawaii to me. Tan lines and all.