what the... i like my job? I have a really cool job. Well, OK, cool probably isn’t the word for it. I do work for The Evil Empire and I sit at a desk and input dumb information regarding dumb merchandise that dumb people buy because they’re stupid. I have to get up very early and drive in LA morning traffic and listen to bad radio and for a sad little treat get myself some 7-11 coffee on the way every other day because I love their watery brew for some reason and the work coffee is just absolutely hideous. That’s probably the worst I can say about it. Well, that and the fact that I would rather be spending my days doing almost anything else beside sitting in an office breathing pumped-in air and hearing very excited people talk about their children and their husbands and the Lakers and any assortment of actual work related topics. And their laughs. Oh god these laughs can make you want to swim to the bottom of the ocean just so you can listen to the sound of your lungs filling up with water instead of their shrill cackles. On the plus side, this job is… gather closer, I don’t want anyone else to hear this… very easy. I have lots of free time to get other things done. I’ve written plays at my desk. I sometimes talk on the phone for literally hours. I take breaks whenever I want. I learned every single thing I know (which is not much…. fine) about the Internet from my hours of on the job web surfing. The kicker is this: I have done 95% of my other job (reading scripts for Big Production Company) here. At my desk. Making money while you’re making money! Who knew? Right now I’m blasting Hello Nasty, eating a Reese’s from our group’s (15 people) snack drawer which lives in my cube, not 4 inches from my left leg. In the last couple days I have made many copies of a screenplay currently making the rounds, filled out tons of SAG paperwork for the short I’m directing, held three-way conferences with my crew, talked to my girlfriend for hours, learned lines for my play that opens tonight, emailed everyone I know, discussed a pending lawsuit my comedy group is bringing against our former landlord. I also have the freedom to leave whenever I need to. If I have an audition, bye-bye. I need sleep, bye-bye. Nooner with the girlfriend, bye-bye. Of course I don’t get paid for time off, but freedom is much more important to me than money. I can go out of town. Take a walk. Go to the post-office. Whatever. Whenever. Ha ha ha ha ha. And my immediate group of three others just rocks. Really. No, I’m serious. And believe me, I hate people. My boss is named Fred. He’s a big fucking nerd, but has the best sense of humor in the world. His entire rap revolves around self-deprecating humor masking deep need for attention, which I can totally dig and relate to. And it works. The ladies love him. I can make fun of the cat for hours, and he’ll just laugh. Make fun of his penchant for dating 50 year old women (he’s 30), his having given up his dream (he’s a tremendous jazz drummer) out of a need for security, whatever. He’s game. Rob is a flaming costume designer who has decorated his entire cubicle with Calvin Klein male underwear ads, photos of Brad Pitt, and his own, very good I might add, costume sketches. And he has a fantastic sense of humor to boot. Rachel is a 23 year old Filipino single mom, sexy as hell, with absolutely none of the annoying "mom" qualities that so many of our colleagues have. Sure, she has a few photos of her kid up, but hell, I have pictures of my dead puppy on my wall. She also has the best sense of humor. This is what makes our group great: we know that what we do is idiotic. Facile. Vapid. And any one of us would leave in a second if something better, a movie for me, a gig for Fred, a costume job for Rob, a better computer job for Rachel, came along. Our only pause would be the thought of leaving our group. But we’d still do it in a fucking second. And, this is the best part, despite none of us really giving a fuck, we’re all really really good at the stupid shit we’re there to do. Seriously. We’re all sexy, smart, and talented. God we rock. Our honorary group member is Tracie, the self-dubbed "angry black woman from the South". She’s a rabid Lakers fan, pop-culture connoisseur who can entertain me for hours. Plus she’s so beyond great at her job, it’s not even funny. This is what I do all day. And though I always say my job takes 40% of my time and 2% of my soul, these people raise the latter percentage considerably. This is where I let Larry King take over my body for a few minutes. I heard that it’s not sugar that’s so bad for your teeth, but random stuff that gets stuck there – is this true?…I cannot stop watching "Scariest Police Videos". I try to but I just can’t…(disclaimer: not my joke but Dennis Miller’s – but I just find it hysterical) if we evolved from apes, why do we still have apes…in LA, cars as treated by many as giant moving purses…Jim Morrison was my age when he died…
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