Day 27 Of Unemployment: OK, Now I'm Bored

* Work yesterday was boring. I set up a MySpace for the company, and looked for high schools with theater programs. New York schools suck, generally. I mean, I always knew, but it never really struck me. I never fully comprehended. Blame it on growing up spoiled and sheltered in the suburbs. It made me sad. Oh, and I found the way to work by Googling the company. I'm a genius. Or something.

* I like how 'google' is a verb. And TiVo. New verbs are awesome. Rather than saying, "I looked it up online," I get to shorten the whole sentence to, "I Googled it." Capitalization is optional. Pretty soon the whole of the English language will be reduced to simply yelling, "Google!' in different tones of voice.

* I may have work tomorrow. I don't know. I don't know anything. ElleVee lacks information.

* More former roommate drama. It's stopped being funny, and has now become completely irritating. She demands my presence for the final walk-through of the apartment, even though SHE has the keys, and I have other things to do. OK, so my life isn't full if important events at this moment, but still. Flossing would be more important. We were supposed to go today, actually, but she never called me. She's probably still asleep. And I sleep late - I woke up near noon today - but she makes me look like a sprightly early morning... sprite. The creature, not the drink. She usually wakes up around five or six in the evening, if she doesn't have work. I just want it to be done. I want to end this and move on with my life.

* Got my Netflix today! Huzzah! Jeeves & Wooster, and the rest of season one of Dexter. Joy in my veins. Much joy.

* My family is coming to visit this weekend. My dad will finally be seeing the apartment he's essentially paying for. This will be interesting. Things have been a bit tense these past few weeks, for a plethora of reasons I don't feel like going into at this moment. I love the word 'plethora.' So this weekend will be either a happy, joyful reunion wherein we all hug and cry, or it will be tense and excessively polite and I will end up twitching like a cat on crack.

* They say the commercials between shows target the intended audience of said show. So, since I've been watching courtroom drama all day - Judge Joe Mathis and Judge Maria Lopez - I must assume that the intended audience eats a fuckload of IHop, has no car insurance, sues over injuries that were caused by their own idiocy, did not graduate from high school, and need to lose a lot of weight. Channel 11 does not have a lot of respect for its viewers. And where does that leave me?
- I haven't eaten at an IHop since high school.
- I don't have a car anymore.
- If I sued every time I fell down, I'd spend my entire fucking life in court. I fall down constantly. Sometimes when I'm not even moving.
- I did not graduate from high school. I did, however, graduate from college, so I guess it evens out.
- Of course I need to lose weight. Statistically speaking, everyone needs to lose weight. We're all AWFUL! IHop, anyone?

So two out of five. Not bad, Channel 11, not bad.

* My roommate called. She's sick, apparently. So, once again, I need to do every fucking thing just to settle the apartment. If you guys see me on the TV wanted for murder, please inform the proper authorities that I was doing a service to humanity. No, I won't really kill her (in case you were rushing to the phone). I just want her to go far, far away, and stop bothering me. Is that so much to ask? IS IT?!

* Watching an ad for Christian rock - the concerts look like the most fucking boring shit I have ever seen. Otherwise, if you changed a few words in the lyrics, these bands could be singing about the girl of their dreams.

* I need to clean. Cleaning makes life better. And keeps the roaches away. I haven't seen one in days. They're plotting my demise. The reckoning shall come.

May your roommates be sane, your family be well-adjusted, and your stress be non-existent.
- LV

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Day 19 Of Unemployment: Job Interviews, Friends, & Serial Killers

Wow. My job interview went badly. Like, really badly. The cops may be busting in here at any moment, since that woman probably thought I was stoned/tired from a night of slaughtering in the innocent.

Actually, I was tired because I had a brief bout of insomnia, and was up until around two in the morning watching House and worrying about roaches. So by the time I had my interview, I was a wreck. A twitchy, cranky, inarguably unbalanced wreck.

It also didn't help that I didn't want the job. And referred to it as 'menial.' I also may have snorted when she said I had to stay for two years. I think we're just going to pretend this didn't happen. OK, to be honest, I wasn't terrible. I definitely came across as hostile, but I was spot-on with all my answers. I have all the necessary experience, and I'm totally qualified. I was just blatantly bored. Which, for those of you not yet in the job-hunting world, is a bad attitude to adopt in the presence of a potential future employer.

Fuck it. Roommate (or Former Roomate, as I suppose she should now be called) is coming by to pick up some of her stuff that my mom accidentally packed because she hates me and wants to force me to interact with a would-be serial killer.

Speaking of serial killers, I rented Dexter from Netflix. I've been watching for maybe five minutes, and I am completely hooked. The lead guy, whose name I can't remember at the moment, was always brilliant on Six Feet Under. Plus, he's cute in an awkward sort of way. I can't say if this will become a House/V For Vendetta/Doctor Who-level obsession, but I can enjoy a ahow without being insane about it. After all, I like Ugly Betty, and you don't see me blathering for hours about how amazing that show is. It is - you should watch it - but I'm not crazed about it.

I'm going to make a TV show list now. And watch Dexter. Fuck - Roommate's here. I'll keep the TV off - don't want her getting any ideas.
- LV

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Day 12 Of Unemployment: Rainy Days & Moving Always Piss Me The Fuck Off

So, I'm moving on Thursday. I will no longer live with a lunatic. To commemorate this auspicious event, we here at FEAR AND LOATHING IN NEW YORK are going to hold a two-part celebration. Today, I will be presenting you with some quotes said about and by my roommate. Tomorrow, I shall regale you with stories about her. After that, I will be accepting funding for my therapy bills.

Actually, I'm partly doing this because I'm busy packing and don't have my notebook with all the clever shit I wanted to say. The quotes below are real, Unfortunately. The names have been changed to protect my from the wrath of the deeply disturbed, because I do NOT need that shit.

Quotes About My Roommate
Me: My roommate broke her bed.
Kay: How?
Me: I really don't want to think about it.

Me: Dad, Roommate is still upset about the time she asked for a cheeseburger at our house, and you acted surprised.
Dad: I was SURPRISED because she made YOU drive her to the grocery store at ten-thirty at NIGHT! I don't give a shit if she eats a whole cow LIVE.

Me: My roommate was up at one in the morning sobbing for an hour because the grocery store was out of hamburger patties.
Dad: Well, you decided to live with her. It's like you're stuck in a bad marriage. But instead of infidelity, this will end in homicide. Have fun!

Arre: Oh my GOD! You live with Single White Female! She's going to blow your boyfriend!
Me: I don't have a boyfriend.
Arre: OH MY GOD! She's going to blow YOU!
Me: I don't have a penis, either.

Kay: Your roommate is like a sad crying clown doll.
Me: I'm afraid of clowns.
Kay: You're afraid of your roommate!

Me: She hates people with accents.
Esse: Why does she live in New York, then?
Me: To point out their heinous mistake.

Me: If I kill my roommate, I go to jail. And if I'm in jail, I can't be expected to finish my finals. Brilliant!
Esse: They'll send them to you by mail, and expect you to write a paper on how prison makes you feel.
Me: Damn it!

Esse: Where's your roommate?
Me: Don't know.
Esse: When is she coming back?
Me: Don't care.
Esse: She's getting in the way of your work, isn't she?
Me: If she is the reason I get bad grades, instead of my own legendary laziness, I swear to God I will END her.

Quotes From My Roomate
Roommate: I like this pillow.
Me: And it likes you.
Roommate: It matches my outfit.

Kay: We won the House! We won the Senate!
Roommate: I don't follow politics. I'm playing Tetris. Is Bush still president?
Kay: You are the reason I drink.

Roommate: I have a pink pillow Mohawk.

Roommate: My eyeball smells.

Roommate: The only thing more pathetic than a guy who masturbates is a girl who owns a vibrator.

Roommate: Hey, Elle. Is it OK if I eat one of your ice cream bars?
Me: Roommate, it's 2:30 in the morning. I was asleep.
Roommate: Why?

Roommate: Hey Elle, will you listen to this voicemail that Emme left and tell me what you think it means?
Me: Who's Emme?
Roommate: The girl Wye is seeing.
Me: I thought Wye was seeing you.
Roommate: We're in an open relationship.
Me: Then why did this girl call you?
Roommate: Oh, she called him.
Me: Then how did you get the message?
Roommate: I didn't.
Me: OK...
Roommate: I figured out his Myspace password, then used THAT to figure out his E-Mail password, then used THAT to guess what his voicemail password would be. Will you listen to the message and she if she likes him?

That's all for now. Just letting you all know I'm still alive, and your assassins have failed. Fools! Bwahahahahahaha!
- LV

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This Post Is Brought To You By Elle's Germs, Cough Syrup, & David Fincher

Downside: I am sick. Genuinely sick, not 'I kind of feel shitty so I'll milk it until everyone despises me for being so damn whiny.' I am truly sick. And not mentally either (OK, that may not be entirely true, but for the sake of this we're ignoring any issues going on INSIDE my head).

Everything hurts. Even my teeth. My snot is making me heavy. I have chills, and I may be slightly delerious due to masive amounts of cough syrup.

I'm even too dizzy to read. I need to take a break between writing each line.

Upside: New York City is the best place in the world to be sick. I have soup, juice, medicine, and tissues on the way. I have many DVDs to watch.

AND I dragged my TV into my bedroom so I can watch it without interacting with the Great Blonde Menace. Funny story: I took the TV into my room while she was sleeping (since it's MY TV, bought with my hard-earned video store money all those years ago), and my roommate freaked and thought it was stolen. She then wanted me to let her take it out so she could watch TV in the common area, despite the fact that she has a TV in her room AND a mini DVD player.

So today: Zodiac (Dear FUCK Robert Downey, Jr. is GORGEOUS. And a JOURNALIST! AND HE SMOKES! WE COULD SMOKE AT WORK AND WRITE AT THE SAME TIME! CAPS LOCKS!), Hot Fuzz, and HOUSE, M.D.: Season Two. Don't tell my roommate about the last one; she'll hijack the DVDs again, and weak as I am I WILL find a way to kill her.

I watched season one of HOUSE all day yesterday after they sent me home. It was glorious. Oh, and I am now officially broke. Like, not even ironically broke. Just very, very broke.

Either later today or tomorrow, I intend on discussing the amazingness of Dr. House, and why we are meant to be. And you will all tolerate this, because I am sick, and you will be bad people if you ignore my rantings. BAD.

In the meantime, I have a date with Robert Downey, Jr. and a serial killer. And sleep. And cough syrup. Lots of cough syrup.

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And I Don't Know How To Use My Phone, Either

So, a major publishing company has fallen. Our E-Mail isn’t working today. Meaning I have even less work than usual. Meaning I finally have time to offer a real update. But I don’t feel like it. Instead, I’m going to tell you what I’ve done today.
• Scheduled an interview for a full-time job here in Adult Editorial, so I can get paid to basically do this. It’s tomorrow. Of course, I immediately wished I had scheduled it for Monday, so I would have more time to pick out an outfit, then wash it. I haven’t done laundry in a while. I bring a few outfits home to Jersey, do them there, and subsist on that each week.
• Planned all the book readings I’m going to for the next month or so. My shrink suggested it. Don’t judge me.
• Added about a hundred more books to my amazon wishlist.
• Counted the number of buttons on my phone (31, not including the receiver).
• Drank two large bottles of Diet Coke. Tried to figure out secret ingredients in Coke. Nearly blew up computer in attempt. Lost interest.
• Finished Crooked Little Vein, which is like love in book form.
• Read a manuscript.
• Sent increasingly panic-stricken text messages to my friend Esse, who is supposed to come over tonight, because the idea of being alone with my roommate fills me with fear. And urine.
• Spent roughly twenty minutes pondering the moral and ethical implications of spitting in my roommate’s shampoo. Decided against it, due to DNA testing.
• Spent roughly forty minutes trying to figure out how I could manage to lose TWO iPods, one of which is not mine, both of which are expected to be given to someone tomorrow.
• Wondered why the hell it’s called a Jitney.
• Pondered the sexuality of one of my coworkers.
• Discovered that in fact I have the only working E-Mail in the entire office, due to a glitch in the system, and because I forgot to turn it off last night. Decided against informing anyone.

Lunch was weird, too. I was with Kay, the Art Department intern, and Jay from upstairs. A random lady walked over to our table and sat near us. Kay was picking at her leftovers. The older lady – by no means homeless – asked if she could finish Kay’s food. And did. Never in my entire life have I seen that happen. It was essentially a What The Fuck moment.

What a thrilling life I do lead. Tomorrow I have a job interview, AND I’m going to the Hamptons to mooch off of my rich aunt’s beach house. Even though I hate the beach. I do, however, love getting away from the evil blonde baby-eater I live with. Or ostrich-fucker. She needs a new nickname. Any ideas?

May your E-Mail work all day, and may Tom Cruise stay away from your couch,
- LV

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An Open Letter To Warren Ellis That May Result In My Incarceration, Although I Sincerely Hope Not As That Would Ruin My Weekend Plans

Dear Mr. Ellis,

I just wrote a very long and excessively creepy blog entry to you. Then I decided that my awkward sarcasm may not translate particularly well over the internet, and that I don't want to go to jail for having a bad sense of humor. So.

You. Are. GOD. Or would be, if I were not a pagan atheist who makes up gods on the spot when cranky/amused, such as the Gods of Organs, or the God of People Farting In Elevators. But Crooked Little Vein is so good it might inspire me to start a religion based around the idea that you have amazing powers us mere mortals cannot comprehend. The fact that you also wrote Transmetropolitan simply confirms that you shall forever be immortalized in the Panthen Of Good Gods Of ElleVee's World. Or something.

So here's the deal: You keep writing. I will keep buying the things you write, and force everyone I know to buy Crooked Little Vein, including my octogenarian grandmother. And if reading it kills her, I will blame it on her inherent crankiness and bribe the police. So you will make money, and I will go to jail for lying to the police. And I will read your books in jail, in between knife fights and work-out sessions and doing laundry and trying not to get violated in the shower, which is apparently all that happens in jail, from what I've seen on Oz.

OK. I just wanted to say that your book is beautiful and funny and twisted and heartbreaking and honest and mesmerizing, and that I love every diseased word. It just came out much weirder and more unwholesome than I had intended.

In conclusion, Mr. Ellis, I love your work. You are a great writer, and I am happy to own this book. And the cover kicks ass. But I hope I never meet you, because I'll probably stutter and cry, and feel exceedingly uncomfortable about this very weird, caffeine-inspired entry.

I just reread this post, and nearly deleted it for a second time. But I really want to say something about this book, and this is as coherent as I can be after a long day at work, and hiding in my room from my psychotic roommate, who may be feasting on the broken souls of former American Idol contestants.

Crooked Little Vein is my favorite novel of the year. Hands down. And you, Mr. Ellis, have forever changed the way I look at Godzilla.

Love (from a safe, police-approved distance),
- LV

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OK, for some reason, when I post from work I can't have a title. Which is probably a sign from the Gods of Publishing or the Gods of Hiring ElleVee So She Doesn't Have To Sell Her Organs For Food Money. But I digress.

My roommate is evil. EVIL. I'm sorry, but I need a moment's rant. After a long day at work, I come home intending to watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force and hold back tears of exhaustion. Instead, we have the following conversation:

Her: What are you watching?
Me: Aqua Teen.
Her: Oh, that's too bad. I was going to hang out with you, but now I can't. I don't like that show.
Me: You could try to like it.
Her: I have. I'll be in my room.
Me: I can hang out in here when you're watching Sex and the City.
Her: But you like that show.
Me: I used to. Before you made me watch every episode over ten times.

Then she later accused me of causing her to waste two hours of her life playing Tetris while I watched TV.

Here'a an update on work:
* Distribute roughly 1,000 books throughout the office.
- DONE. I distributed Cool Daddy Rat, Hey Mr. Choo Choo, Christopher Counting, Uncle Bobby's Wedding, and Stand Tall, Abe Lincoln. My back hurts, and I dropped one hundred copies of Mr. Choo Choo on my foot, but hey, who's complaining?
* Check the contact information for over 600 independent bookstores.
- I'm on page two. There are thirty-six. I don't want to talk about it. Anyone up for buying independent bookstores and turning them into rest homes for stressed-out readers?
* Read 175-page manuscript and write reader's report.
- DONE. And it was really good, incidentally. I'm hoping the title will change, so I'll hold off on saying what it is. But seriously, I nearly cried at my desk. Probably while the mysterious Intern Hiring Person strolled by.
* Read and edit 251-page manuscript and write reader's report.
- That's next. No problem, right? It would be, if I knew who the hell had given my the manuscript. She didn't introduce herself. Just shoved a box of paper into my hands, told me she needed it by the end of the week, and ran off laughing evilly. She also set fire to my hair.
* Handle slush (need I say more?)
- We are ignoring the ever-growing slush pile. If I don't look at it, it's not there. Maybe I can ask the Lady With No Name But Many Manuscripts to burn it next time she stops by.
* Have meeting with president of imprint to discuss Dean Koontz project.
- Pushed back to next Monday. AND she's buying me a sandwich. I'm hoping it comes with 'You're Hired!' mayo, as opposed to 'You're Getting Escorted Off The Premises' mustard.
* Write flap copy for children's book (and edit it).
- DONE. And she liked it! At least enough that she didn't spit in my face, or cry.
* Attend meeting on OTHER manuscript to determine if it goes to publishers.
- Moved to tomorrow. I read the book. I have opinions. What else do they want from me? They already have my TEARS.
*ave ANOTHER meeting with president of imprint to determine whether or not to purchase entirely different manuscript, which I just finished commenting on.
- Hasn't been mentioned. We're going to put it with the slush, and pretend it never existed.

And that pretty much sums up Life in The City. I have two minutes before I can ran screaming out of the building. I'm going to the Strand Annex today, because I EARNED my money, and to Klatch, an amazing coffee shop in the Financial District. You all should go. Their quiche could bring around world peace. Unless you're lactose intolerant. We don't want YOUR kind.

May your day be cool and not-sweaty, and may the crazy serial killer decide you look like too much of a fighter to bother with.
- LV

Title: Do Not Wear Platform Shoes When Lifting Fifty-Pound Boxes Unless You Really Hate Your Ankles

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My Desk Is Very Messy, And Will Probably Be The Reason I Do Not Get Hired Full-Time

Dear Would-Be Writers,
Please stop sending me your submissions. They are making me angry and twitchy. WHY CAN NOBODY SPELL? I have a theory it’s all the same, demented person with hundreds of different personalities, sending me increasingly crappy stories. Send your stories to other publishers. Just for a few days. I need a break. OR AT LEAST CHECK YOUR SPELLING DEAR LORD THE SPELLING!
Love and Kisses, ElleVee

There’s been a lot of slush today, none of it good. Paying somebody to publish your book does not mean you are a good writer – it means you have enough money to publish a book. THAT. IS. IT.

The Fourth was boring, because I was too lazy to do anything. I slept in, which I enjoyed, then spent most of the day sitting on the roof in the cold, cloudy weather reading A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby, which was great. Probably my favorite of his books.

Then I watched Notes On A Scandal with my crazy roommate, who didn’t ‘get’ the movie. I made egg in a basket (the only thing I can actually cook that will not kill me or make me throw up), and went to bed early.

Tonight I’m meeting up with my old journalism class in Union Square for food and drinking.

It’s a slow day. Can you tell?

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Amy Winehouse Is Awesome And Should Be My Friend

Things I Am Really Worried About

• That I will not be offered a job at the end of my internship, despite all my hard work, and will have to go work at Abercrombie & Fitch.
• That a very famous author will laugh at my book proposal. Then beat me unconscious with a copy of Phantoms.
• That when the zombie uprising comes, I will panic and aim for their feet.
• That my roommate will lose control of her bloodlust and feast upon my sweet, sweet flesh.
• That my apartment situation will crash and burn in a fiery ball of whining and insanity, and I will be forced to live in a house constructed entirely out of books and DVDs. Or worse, in New Jersey.
• That the release date for Will Christopher Baer’s book will be pushed back, reducing me to a hollow shell of the human condition.
• That my uncle will not recover from liver cancer.
• That the Transformers movie will be as bad as I think it will.
• Clowns.

That’s all for now. Back to work. May your day be pleasant, and may the zombie clowns get lost on the way to your home. Unless you like zombie clowns, in which case may they swarm upon you and hold a kick-ass party.

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I Feel Sick [No, Not Really. I Just Happened To Glance At My Comic With That Name]

Finished Voices of a People's History Of The United States last night. It made me want to go start a revolution against corruption and evil, to write articles that would change the world. Instead, I just went to bed.

Today seems to be a day of people whining at me. My roommate is babbling about how she fell asleep during sex, and her boyfriend continued to erm... yeah. I laugh viciously at her pain, because I am a bad person. And she puts on makeup to go to the gym, which I think is a sure sign of pure, unmitigated evil. I mean, MASCARA?

I start my job tomorrow, and I'm kind of nervous. A few reasons:
* I am not a morning person, and I have to be up, showered, and looking relatively like a human being in order to head out the door by 8:15 AM. Which means I'll be up by 7:00 AM. I had trouble getting up for noon classes.
* Since the video store where I worked closed last summer, I haven't had a steady job, besides the occassions where I would play receptionist for my father at his office. Which basically entailed me answering the phones and reading all day.
* I really, really need this to go well so that I can either get a full-time job at this company, or they can at least refer me to someplace where I can write.
* I also need to start freelancing. I have like no clips.

To make up for the whining I just subjected everyone to [whoever may be out there... helloooooo?], I humbly offer another list which mayhap will tickle thy fancy.

Movies I Have Cried At That Aren't Sad At All, And Make Everyone Around Me Uncomfortable
1. Independence Day
2. Benny & Joon
3. Matchstick Men
4. 8 Mile
5. Spider-Man 3 [Which I HATED, otherwise]
6. The 40 Year-Old Virgin
7. Armageddon [fuck you, EVERYONE cried]
8. Serenity
9. 28 Days Later...
10. Shaun Of The Dead
11. Kill Bill: Volume 2
12. The Big Lebowski
13. Pirates Of The Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest
14. Secretary
15. Brazil

Once again, this does not bode well for my mental stability. Stay tuned for my next post, which will be about work, martial arts, and a list of movies where I laughed at the tragic ending, because I sold my soul for some Ruffles and a really cool throw rug.

Luckman: Well! So much for our great trip to San Diego, Bob. I TOLD you we should have gone to San Francisco.
Barris: What, like going to San Francisco would NOT have caused this problem with the engine?
Luckman: Yeah, because when you're going north, it screws this way, and when you're going south it screws that way!
Barris: If we were in AUSTRALIA!
- A Scanner Darkly

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