Countdown to CT, PART THE THIRD

I don't know what kind of weirdo you are, but if awesome fairs and Streets of Sin aren't enough for you, then perhaps a tour of Berlin's historical homes is more your style:

*The link will take you to Casey's tripod-hosted site, so unless you've some kind of pop-up blocker, expect to be assaulted by ten trillion pop-up ads. Sorry.

I'm not sure if this is explained in the tour anywhere, but once upon a time four years ago, the Berlin Town Council decided to create a new "blight" ordinance, probably because they couldn't think of any more decency ordinances. The ordinance was introduced with a "blight" list, which provided the addresses and owners of eleven (I think) properties that were in violation of the ordinance. How embarassing for them. The house by the post office with the bathtub in the backyard did not make the list, leading me to wonder what could be more "blighted" than that. So I gathered Casey, Chris, and my brother/cameraman Ryan to go on a video and photo tour of Berlin's Most Blighted.



Countdown to CT, part 2

Just in case my description of The Berlin Fair wasn't enough to convince you of why I am so excited about my triumphant return to my hometown, here are a few news articles about the latest goings-on in the area:

1. World-Famous Naked Karaoke. That's right: it's world famous. We made international news for the first, and probably last, time with this.

2. Mingles. It was Connecticut's premiere swingers club until the police shut it down. Sadly, this article neglects to mention the exciting "theme rooms."

3. Massage Parlor of Ill Repute. I pegged this place as being a brothel years before the police took action. They were open late into the night, and they had NEON SIGNS in the windows.

Here's the best part: as you can see on the Map of Sin, all three of these business are located ON THE SAME STREET:

I have taken the time to highlight the street in sinful red (the less vibrant red street is a highway; ignore this), and point out the locations of each establishment, also in sinful red. The radiating yellow you see is the Triangle of Goodness, where the Dairy Queen is located.

I would also like to point out that Stop and Shop has been trying to open a new superstore on Farmington Avenue, (the Den of Sin), but many Berlin residents are protesting this because they think Farmington Ave., and this is a semi-verbatim quote, should be a tree-lined street where small businesses and bistros can thrive. Until the police shut them down for violating our town's strict decency ordinances.

And where am I in all of this? I can't tell you my exact address, but I will say that you can see my street on the map. So I used to live close to the Den of Sin, but closer still to a convent. And the local retarded child molester, but that's another story.




Today begins my first day of unemployment. Work on The Apprentice shall continue, but without me, because I'm going back to CT for a few weeks. My uncle is getting married in England, so I'll be flying home, then to England, and then back to CT, where I'll hang out for a while until Survivor starts again.

There is so much to look forward to:

1. The Berlin Fair: how thoughtful of my uncle and soon-to-be aunt to plan their wedding right around the time of the Berlin Fair, so I could have an excuse to come home and go to the Fair. The Berlin Fair is awesome, y'all. There are tractor pulls and horse shows and carnies and craft contests. It doesn't even matter that the same five people enter the same wooden car models and quilts every year so they can get the same "Best in Show" prize and accompanying ten dollar award. And the Pisgah Mountain Primatives are back this year!

2. Discovery Health Channel: finally, I have a few hours so I can catch up on all the medical documentary shows I've missed since the last time I was unemployed. I kicked it off right last night by watching a three-hour documentary in the "Extreme Surgeries" series. Prominently featured in the show was Geoff Ritchie, who has a port wine stain birthmark that puts Mikhail Gorbachov to shame. Only click on the link if you are ready to see a hardcore birthmark, the likes of which you have probably never seen before. And even after his seven "extreme" surgeries, there wasn't much the doctors could do for Geoff. So that was depressing, but then they also had some bits about two girls with severe scoliosis who had successful -- and "extreme" -- back surgeries that straightened everything out. When I watch shows like this, I almost miss my days working in the hospital lab with no windows. Almost.

3. Writing: I'm not coming back to LA without finishing something. That's all there is to it. For a while now, I've had some ideas that I want to get started on, but I didn't have the time. Well, now I have the time. So I guess I should do it.

4. I think my uncle is getting married or something. That should be fun. Oh, and seeing my family. I guess that'll be cool too.




My latest 7th Heaven recap is up now. Although it does talk about Simon having sex, it's still less disturbing than the animal porn.



Joe sent me this link. Somewhere, in this country, there lurks a man of very...outlandish...sexual...tastes?

But a picture is worth a thousand words:

Yeah. And this picture is probably the tamest one on the entire site. Well, except for the pictures of his Russian military uniform collection, which...huh?


An Attack of Conscience!

The entry I put up last night was done when I was...slightly emotional. In a fit of pique, you might say. There was a camel's back, and a straw fell on it and it broke. In the cold, harsh, light of morning when the only emotion I am capable of feeling is, of course, the overwhelming sense of dread about the upcoming workday, I started to feel slight pangs of guilt that perhaps I had crossed a line. A privacy line. Like the line that is the doorway to my bedroom that a certain someone constantly crosses when he and his friends are entering it to use my stuff. But we won't talk about that. My feelings of guilt intensified when my mother IMed me to gently suggest that I should take the entry down. So I am. It's gone. Until the next incident, when I'll put it back up again and then take it down the next morning. It's the circle of life, people. Circle of life.


New Comments

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added. This means that all my old comments got erased. It's sad, but I think it's worth the sacrifice.


The Survivor Premiere Party

I finally got the pictures up. Without further ado, I present to you the Survivor Premiere Party!

It was held at Gotham Hall on the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica. Pretty swanky.

We thought that the party would be crew only. Boy were we surprised when the ENTIRE cast of the show arrived! Here they all are posing in front of one of the TVs.

Sean quickly took Dolly aside to show her his party trick: he can suck through a straw from the side of his mouth. Dolly wasn't too impressed.

Joe and Emily were pretty excited when Eliza came over to talk to them.

So were Jake and Guillermo.

As the party wore on, however, and Eliza got a couple drinks into her, she started getting really annoying. Here she, with Yasur tribemate Scout, interrupt Joe's pool game.

When she started trying to mess with Jake and me, we told her she was unwelcome.

We were much happier when she left.

Eric didn't have to deal with Eliza because he and Chad were having a drinking contest. When Chad won, Eric asked him if he had some hollow leg that he put all that alcohol away in. Eric's faux pas made us all feel uncomfortable for the rest of the night.

Another thing that made us uncomfortable was when Bill showed Julie what he would do to her if he had the chance. This picture was taken right before she turned around and smacked him.

Oh, dear. After a few too many drinks, Ken's inhibitions dropped enough for him to ask Lisa the question that was on all our minds: are those real?

"Can you ask Twila out for me?" Jake asks.

I'm not sure what happened here.

As the party was winding down and Steve and I posed for one last picture. Steve ducked down so I could look taller than him. But he still wasn't as short as The Amazing Race's Charla, who was very embarassed when she realized she was at the wrong show party.


The Bomb

I haven't been able to update these last two days because I've been really busy with the show I recap for TWoP and Survivor both premiering this week. And it's not like I would have written anything especially positive anyway; office morale is at an all-time low now that we've run out of the free tuna and are stuck with the lunch options of either PB&J or paying six dollars for a cup of chili at the ridiculously overpriced nearby eating establishment. It's the only eating establishment in the vicinity with the exception of a gas station that sells "The Bomb" burritos. "The Bomb" burritos contain something like 680 calories. In each serving. And there are two servings. And I'm ashamed to report that I have eaten a The Bomb on two occasions. You may ask yourself just why they're called "The Bomb." I, too, asked this question. Perhaps, I thought, this burrito will figuratively explode with delicious flavor. But no, as it happens, the explosion is a much more literal and vastly more unpleasant one, although I promised I wouldn't talk about stuff like that anymore so I'll leave it there.

In conclusion: I'm having a busy week but I'll finally post the pictures from my scandalous birthday party when it's all said and done. Also, don't eat at the gas station even if there's no more free tuna and you don't have enough money for expensive chili.


I Take It Back

Work isn't all bad. Today they came in with a bag of Reese's Peanut Cups. Before we had been getting Reese's mini-cups, which are good, but the big ones are so much better because they have a lower chocolate-to-peanut-butter ratio.

Another Post About Work, And How It Sucks

A few weeks ago I was coming home from work and I got on the elevator from the parking garage. My landlord was there too. He kind of creeps me out so I wasn't too thrilled about this, but then we started to talk:

LANDLORD: You look tired. Are you just getting back from work?
SARA: [sighs] Yeah.
LANDLORD: It is no fun, eh?
SARA: Not even a little bit, no.
LANDLORD: Work is like going to jail. And you can never get out.
SARA and LANDLORD: [sad sigh]

I was going to say something about how maybe while Landlord was stuck in his work-jail he could try to do something about the whistling pipes I've been handing in work orders about for the last three weeks, but I decided not to ruin what was an otherwise nice moment.



When I started this blog, lo those many days ago, I wasn't planning on getting many visitors other than family and friends. I figured I would play around with it for a little while, see what I could do with it, and see if I even liked doing it before I had it put on Damn Hell Ass Kings or put it in my TWoP staff profile.

And then Pamie linked to it from her site and all these people started coming to visit! I put a counter on the page and there were 150 hits in one day! The "geo tracker" feature says that people from almost every continent are coming here! People are leaving comments about the traffic in Thailand! I learned to never underestimate Pamie's blogging powers when she got in contact with an old childhood friend through it, but I still didn't expect this to happen. The site traffic has since decreased by about half, but considering that I only emailed five people about this blog and I forgot to put the URL of my blog in the email, I have to assume that most of them are still people I don't know.

This is all great, but I do want to say that had I known I would get hits like this, I never would have posted an entry about workplace pooping habits. That wasn't very classy and I'm sorry. Plus, I offended that one anonymous person with a bowel disorder even though in the entry I clearly said that sometimes when you have to go, you have to go, and that's okay. It's the people who take clear pleasure out of taking a break from their workday to do it that I don't appreciate. And I know they exist because right after I posted that entry, one of my-workers came back in the room and we were like, "where were you the last hour?" And he sat back in his chair, put his feet up on the desk, smiled and said, "I was taking a dooker, and it was awesome." He also said that he does not have a bowel disorder so I don't want to see another comment about that.

I swear that will be the last thing I say about workplace pooping habits. I know I said I wouldn't say any more about it and then I said something about it, but, from now on, there will be nothing. And please sign your names when you leave comments. If you don't have a blogger account, your name comes up as "anonymous." I want to know who is writing stuff, unless it's another comment about having a bowel disorder and I swear I'll never mention poop in my blog again.


Another Recap Up

Keckler and I tandem-capped Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home. If it weren't for the presence of the shrill and useless Annie Camden, it'd be the perfect movie.



Dear Sara,

Fuck you.

The 101 South


Time = Saved

I woke up at 6 this morning (I've given up all hope of waking up at 5:30. It's just not going to happen) to the shrill tones of my alarm clock, which were quickly silenced when I pressed the snooze button and fell back asleep. I woke up again, this time feeling uniquely rested. I haven't woken up feeling anything but suicidal since my new job started. Perhaps, I thought, things have changed. Perhaps I want to go to work for ten hours and I did actually get enough sleep last night. Perhaps -- and then I saw that it was 8:33.

It turns out that it was actually 7:33 and I, trapped somewhere between deeply asleep and awake, had pressed the hour button on my clock instead of the snooze button, thus setting it forward an hour and not activating the snooze function. I ended up getting to work right before 9, a much more civilized time to start one's workday. It's also right before my bosses come in and start their day, so no one even noticed my tardiness. And you know what? I got just about as much work done in eight hours as I do in ten.

Here's how this happened:

1. I did not take a lunch break. Time = saved!
2. I did not incessantly IM my mother and beg her for an early inheritance so I wouldn't have to work anymore. Time = saved!
3. I did not drink excessive amounts of water just to be able to leave my desk to go to the bathroom. Time = saved!
4. I probably spend about an accumulated hour each day just yawning. Because I wasn't as tired, I spent only half that time yawning today. Time = saved!
5. I did play Snood a whole lot. Time = not saved.

But the best part was I got to see the extremely brief shower driving into work. Since my office has no windows, I would have missed this had I actually arrived at work on time. It's the first time I've seen rain in something like six months.

In conclusion, going into work late has made me happier, more well-rested, able to see rare events in the natural world, and it gave my long-suffering mother a break. And I suffered no reprecussions, except for my guilty conscience, which I didn't have. Something to think about...


Plans Thwarted

Awwww yeah. What could be nicer than taking a dip in the pool after a long, long, loooong day of work?

D'oh! Too many people in there already, and they're either weird or they're children or both. I wouldn't mind so much if I wasn't ninety-nine percent sure that none of these people actually live in my apartment complex. Seriously, who is that guy with the ponytail? I've never seen him before.


Two Years

Jamie Hulley

9.20.81 - 9.6.02

Jamie's parents run the Jamie A. Hulley Fund for the Arts, which supports all kinds of things that Jamie enjoyed or was involved with. Learn more.


Survivor is done, so now I'm working on The Apprentice until I fly home to Connecticut. Same place, same work, different hours. My fabulously flexible, rush-hour-free 12 or 1ish-8 shift has been replaced by a horrific, traffic-filled and steadfast 7-5. One day, these people will learn that you get the same amount of work out of someone in ten hours as you do eight. It's according to the Proportional Property of Math. At least since today is Labor Day and there was no rush hour I got to sleep in a bit. Tomorrow is the real test, when I have to wake up at 5:30 and face morning traffic.

I'll never understand what compels some people to take a dump in the workplace toilet. I mean, okay, maybe once in a while you've just got to go, but most of the time, can't you wait until you get home? I swear, half the people who work here treat this place like their own personal restroom, which it isn't, because if it was, then I wouldn't have to use it right after them and face the unpleasant effects of their inconsideration. Plus they probably wouldn't be so messy since they'd have to actually clean it up, instead of leaving it to whatever unfortunate souls we employ as our cleaning service, who apparently got so fed up that they're protesting by not emptying the garbage. The bins in our room are overflowing with rancid half-eaten foodstuffs from weeks before. I probably shouldn't have thrown that bowl of cereal with the sour milk away in there. It can't smell any worse than the bathrooms, though.

Oh, and now someone's put magazines and air freshener in the bathrooms so as to encourage more of this behavior. The air freshener is a welcome relief, but the magazines are cause for concern. The bathrooms are hard enough to find unoccupied without people sitting around reading magazines in them.

I can't wait to spend ten hours a day here!


Recap Up

I didn't write it, but I am featured in it. By "featured" I mean that there's a picture of me that serves to prove two seperate hypotheses: 1. the pizza was very, very big, and 2. I don't photograph well. There are also some quotes from me that are probably considered offensive. I would like to point out, however, that I was misquoted: I said Kurt Loder and Tabitha Soren had informed babies, not deformed babies. I mean, they could be deformed, too, but I said informed because I figured that the children of two sub-par newscasters would know a lot about current events.

Anyway, it's here.

First Post

So I went and created a blog because everyone else was doing it and I always succumb to peer pressure. Also pressure from my parents, who were all "we really want to know what's happening to you out there," and "Casey's parents get to read all about his life on his blog," except that Casey hasn't updated his blog in weeks, so not really.

This blog is going to detail my life in Los Angeles. I moved out here in late January, but only just now have I finally paid off my credit card bills and feel like I have enough time to do this. It's probably also good writing practice, and since I'm out here to be a writer, that's probably, like, a good idea.

Here's a picture I took of the city with my new digital camera. Check out how I edited it to make it look all professional:

I think that my picture is really symbolic because you can see the Hollywood sign, but then also there's a stoplight on Sunset. That probably means that there are a lot of obstacles to making it in Hollywood. And you can only go 30 miles per hour. I don't know; I took the picture while I was anxiously waiting for the light to turn green, hoping it would before the homeless man with the sign walked by my car. He always makes me feel so guilty.