Day 37 Of Unemployment: Never Eat At A Restaurant That Says, "Howdy Pardners" On The Menu

Trust me on that one.

I'm bored, so you can read this and share the boredom. The exterminator is coming today, so I get to spend the whole day sitting around waiting for him. I'm afraid to leave the apartment at all, because if he comes while I'm away, I have to wait an entire, roachy month for him to return. And that would lead to madness and much vomiting.

I've tried to be industrious. I cleaned the apartment, put away my laundry, and stared off into space for a solid ten minutes daydreaming about... stuff. But I've been waiting since noon, and I would really like to be able to go get something to eat.

Netflix lost my Jeeves & Wooster. I'm very worried. What if this becomes a trend, and they lose all my movies, then cancel my account? WHAT THEN?! I'm not using Blockbuster - I have many, many issues with that evil behemoth. I thought perhaps my neighbor swiped them (because who could resist the sheer erotic masculinity of Hugh Laurie?) since I was away when they came, but the other two DVDs I had ordered appeared right as they should. It's a mystery, I tell you. Incidentally, there's an excellent Hugh Laurie song CALLED 'Mystery.' Go download it.

So that's all. Elle is bored, and you should be too. Or entertain me. Or bring me food from Chickpea. I am hungry, and longing for hummus pita.

May you have a lovely Saturday and not be stuck in your fucking domicile for the whole damn day.
- LV

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Day 36 Of Unemployment: Profound Thoughts Are For Chumps

I saw two people peeing on the street today. That pretty much sums up my day.

Also, This Is Spinal Tap should be watched more often. It could bring about world peace. And I have to insist you watch it with the commentary - Spinal Tap shows up in person to discuss their epic.
-LV

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Day 33 Of Unemployment: Mini-Post - Review of 'Halloween'

My review of Halloween, directed by Rob Zombie:

Denial: Surely nobody could possibly make such a bad movie. Certainly nobody involved with Grindhouse. And obviously nobody could badly remake such a brilliant film (ignores Psycho, The Fog, The Haunting, Alfie, Wild Wild West, House Of Wax, The Truth About Charlie, The Pink Panther, Down To Earth, and most remakes ever.)

Anger: WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST WATCH? WHAT MANNER OF BULLSHIT IS THIS? WHY IS EVERYONE A HICK? HOW MANY BORING TEENAGE HUMPING SESSIONS CAN ONE MOVIE HAVE? WHY IS THE DOCTOR DRESSED LIKE ANDY WARHOL?! WHAT TESTICLE-CHOPPING MONSTER CONVINCED DANNY TREJO TO SOIL HIMSELF IN THIS FILM? WHY IS THE CREEPY KID SO VERY ANNOYING, AND HIS HAIR SO VERY LONG? I HATE EVERYONE! IT BURNS!

Bargaining: Please, please, Hollywood - I'll give you my firstborn if you stop raping the past. Please? And my spleen. Just make the bad men stop.

Depression: There will never be a good movie again. Film is dead, and I was at its final, gasping moments of agony.

Acceptance: I survived Wild Wild West on the big screen - I will survive this. But I must spread the word, so that nobody will ever suffer like I have.
- LV

PS Here are a few GOOD remakes to help with your therapy, if you were unlucky enough to think Halloween would be a fun, stupid movie, and were as traumatized as I am by the actual results:
* Dawn of the Dead
* Charlie & The Chocolate Factory (I actually like it better than the Gene Wilder version - it sticks closer to the book, and doesn't have the scary tunnel sequence)
* His Girl Friday
* The Thomas Crown Affair
* The Fly
* The Ring
* Ocean's 11
* The Manchurian Candidate
* The Maltese Falcon
* King Kong

PPSS I saw Britney Spears' VMA performance on YouTube. It was more terrifying than anything in Halloween.

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Day 31 Of Unemployment: Roach Watch '07

So. Three in the morning. Esse and I, after enjoying a Jeeves & Wooster marathon, are getting ready to sleep. Then we see it. Roach number four. Not a particularly large roach, I should add. But the circumstances may be the most horrifying yet.

You see, dear readers, the roach got in when Esse innocently opened a window hoping for a cool breeze. The roach molested my friend, crawling along her leg. She chose not to mention the incident so that I would not shriek like a prison bitch. She hoped she was merely hallucinating, that the feeling on her leg was a sign of oncoming insanity. We were not so lucky.

I only screamed once. I also vomited once, upon seeing roach guts on my floor, thus ruining my moment of Rambo-like bravery. I sprayed enough Raid through the apartment to ensure that neither I nor my friend will ever reproduce, covered it with the Roach Cup, then ran into the bathroom so that Esse could transport the creature's earthly remains to the garbage receptacle outside my humble, ROACH FUCKING INFESTED abode.

People are not themselves at 3 AM. I was braver than usual, if only by necessity. Esse was more frightened than I expected. And the poor roach was probably terrified. The whole thing, in fact, could have been physical comedy, with one girl retching in the bathroom and the other hopping around at a safe distance.

Esse, to her immense credit, did all the dirty work. She even cleaned up the guts on my once-pristine floor. But was she rewarded for her valiant efforts? No. Instead, while disposing of the corpse outside, a drunk/stoned/stupid young man bluntly asked her for sex. Esse, with her usual grace, replied simply, "No." The gentleman went on his stoned/drunk/stupid way without a companion.

This is, unfortunately, all true. Esse is currently hiding in the kitchen drinking tea and trying to remember how to play Solitaire. I am sitting on my bed, keeping an eye on where I last saw the dread beast, with my shoes on and my adrenaline way too high.

My name is ElleVee, and this is life in New York City.
- LV

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Day 29 Of Unemployment: More Strange Rumblings In September

Saw my third roach today. Admittedly, it was dead, and in the hallway outside my apartment, but it was fucking huge. Terrifyingly huge. I threw it in the garbage. Away from me. And sprayed again.

So much for false bravado about roaches. They're evil. They're scary. Let's all admit that, and move on with our lives.

Watching more Dexter. This is a seriously damaged show. Wonderful, funny, sad, all the adjectives I use when I like something, but still, totally damaged. Just like the titular character. Beautifully shot, I should add. Few television shows are done in such an artistic way. Most just frame things, shoot them, and that's it. But this - this show allows for the full potential of the medium. I've always said TV doesn't have to look like shit - it just normally does. Then again, most shows don't have gallons of blood to play around with. That certainly adds a colorful touch.

Had a lovely night. Went over to the dynamic duos' place (Kay and Esse, the ass-kickers of... stuff that needs its ass kicked), and Kay taught me how to make pasta. Well, more specifically, pasta sauce. Even I can make pasta. But I was happy that it turned out decently. Meaning it tasted OK, and it didn't kill anyone. The pasta stuck together, but that couldn't be helped.

And their apartment is enormous. Which has nothing to do with pasta, or cooking, but warrants mentioning, because I get to go hang out over there whenever they let me.

Can I just say that I absolutely adore that Dexter uses the name Patrick Bateman. Brilliant. That's from American Psycho, for those of you whom I now hate. Whom or who? Which is right? And why should it matter to me?

I'm rereading the Harry Potter series. Well, the four I read. I need to read the last three, so I can lust creepily over Snape, the only interesting aspect of the series. At least the books I read. I'm also reading Darkly Dreaming Dexter, because that's what I do when I like something.

That's all for now. May the roaches not come to my apartment. The rest of you are on your own.
- LV

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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 24 Of Unemployment: Random Thoughts & Pretensions

* It really bugs me when people are proud of the fact that they don't read. People actually brag about this. And it always boggles me. Look, I read a fucking obscene amount of books. That's just me. And I admittedly read when I should be out, you know, interacting with other carbon-based life-forms. If you don't read a lot, that's fine. If you don't read at all, that's fucking tragic. But bragging about it? That's weird. It's like saying, "Hello, I do not want to know anything about anything. I am happy being a complete ignoramus, and think this makes me cool or rebellious in some way." Fuck you. It makes me sad, and immediately question your intelligence. As I said, not reading is... well, it sucks. But I get that a lot of people don't read. But being proud of it? Holy everloving fuck, just wear a sign that says "Moron For Life."

* I've never seen a full episode of FRIENDS. That's something I'M proud of. I've seen pieces of it - most recently the cameo by Hugh Laurie, where he yells at Rachel, which makes me squeal with uninhibited, alarming glee. And in some classes in college, we were supposed to watch episodes an analyze them. I usually fell asleep. I just find the show [what little I've seen] to be stupid, offensive, and boring. And that Rachel bitch sounds MEAN. Although the cameos I've watched on youtube - particularly Hugh Laurie, Bruce Willis, Brad Pitt, & Reese Witherspoon - have been brilliant.

*'Wichcraft makes fucking awesome sandwiches. I had Sicilian tuna with olives and lemon on a roll, and it has made my belly happy on several levels. You should go. Right now.

* Just bought DARKLY DREAMING DEXTER and STIFF: THE CURIOUS LIVES OF HUMAN CADAVERS at the St. Mark's Bookshop. Best bookstore ever, even if it's intimidating. I feel like my intellectual abilities are being scrutinized and mocked by everyone working there. I also bought my friend Kay her birthday present. Which I can't tell, because someone might tell her.

* Netflix, Netflix, Netflix. Why do you not receive my DVDs? Why do you not send me more DVDs? Why does Labor Day have to mock me with no mail. No mail means no DVDs, means no joy in Elle's life. I am amazed by how dependent I am on the mail. But, when I'm waiting for more episodes of DEXTER and season two of JEEVES & WOOSTER, how can you blame me?

* I just saw a Skittles commercial involving a singing bunny. I have no idea what the fuck it was about, but now I am afraid of Skittles.

* I have work tomorrow. Unfortunately, I can't find the piece of paper with the address. Or the number to call in case I lose the address. So this should get interesting really quickly.

May the singing bunny from the Skittles commercial not come sing near you. Seriously, it was fucking creepy. It sang in the rain. That's terrifying.
- LV

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