Life is like Jessica Alba's pit bill licking your face.

Yesterday I had a job interview at a home high up in the hills of Beverly Hills. I arrived ten minutes early, as I do for almost everything, and sat on the couch and tried to decide who I should text while I waited. I didn't get reception and it was physically painful.

It didn't really matter though as there was much to distract me. A tiny dog was incessantly yapping, there was what I assume to be an adult son, a man that spoke with a British accent who I think was a realtor, a Mexican landscaper and some other guys who I think were involved with other home improvements. But I sat quietly on the couch, stared out the door to the pool in the backyard and watched a white pit bull breathing on the window, wagging its tail at me. I like pit bulls and automatically made some high pitched greeting. I couldn't figure out why the tiny dog was allowed in, but not this one, who clearly wanted in in a serious way.

Then my potential boss arrived. I hear her before I see her and what I hear loud and clear is: "I'M GOING TO SUE JESSICA ALBA!" This phrase is repeated several times. She enters into the living room and opens the door. The pit bull bounds over to me and jumps on her couch and licks my face. And that's when I learn that this is Jessica Alba's pit bull that is licking my face. And this dog is NOT welcome. It's a nice dog, but potential boss lady is getting sick of this dog always in her yard.

Apparently Jessica Alba just moved into the house behind her, which is up a serious incline, making it easy for Pit Bull to jump over the fence. And since potential boss lady is fond of leaving the doors open, on more than one occasion Jessica Alba's pit bull has wound up in bed with her. Okay, I get it. But suing?

So I begin following this woman awkwardly around the kitchen and into the backyard, as is everyone else, who is clamoring for her attention. And the next thing you know, she is screaming up the hill to Jessica's Mexican landscapers "Woooorker! Excuse me! Wooorrrrkerrrr! This dog is down here AGAIN!" And homegirl looks crazy. I'm suddenly embarrassed for everyone involved. Mainly her, but I can't really make eye contact with anyone, because I'm not sure what the appropriate emotion to feel is in this instance, I just know what I am feeling I should not express.

And then I realized that this is exactly the type of situation that I find myself in more often than not: random people, random places, opulent wealth, clothes I don't feel quite comfortable in and the vague feeling I should not be there.

So this is my life, y'all. If you change around a few variables each time, and string together incident after incident like this, you will have a good idea of what it feels like to be me. It's actually kinda fun.

I'll let you know if I get the job.

"Untitled Williamsburg Project"

I love Tina Fey. I do. I love that she creates things, writes things and then also performs in them. I love that she is hot. I think Liz Lemon on 30 Rock is fabulously constructed and perfectly played. Basically I want to be Tina Fey. Well, not really, because I've never liked SNL and don't like sketches really at all, but I want to be hot and funny and make TV shows and movies and be in them. And I think she and I would totally get along. And we both wear glasses. (Yes, in case you all didn't know. I wear glasses. Like, all the time.) See?

The more whimsical Gina Lemon.

Also, that's Salvation Mountain, not my bedroom, though if you thought it was, you have a clear understanding of what I'd like my bedroom to look like.

I once wrote Entertainment Weekly and told them they should put her on the cover. A few months later they did. Coincidence? I doubt it. So basically I'm a little bit in love with her.

So about two months ago I was excited to find a script of hers at Ex's called "Untitled Williamsburg Project". I purloined it without a second thought, since I knew he would never read it (it was in an untouched pile of scripts), plus he always accuses me of taking shit, so I might as well actually take something every now and then. Yes, I thought I scored. Tiny Fey and Williamsburg! (I used to live there so it holds a special place in my heart even though it's a bit douchetastic these days. In the above picture, my t-shirt says "Brooklyn" on it. The parallels never cease. It's a bit illegible, but whatever.)

But anyway, as of press time, I still haven't finished "Untitled Williamsburg Project". I pick it up every few weeks and I still haven't laughed once.

I keep thinking maybe I'm confused. I am not going to pretend I get screenwriting. Every time I've read a script the writing seems conversational and yet forced at the same time. Phrases and descriptions are casual and yet it follows a strict format. Screenwriting has always been mystifying to me. It all seems awkward to me and I thought reading a script written by one of my inspirations, I'd finally get the cryptic art. Alas.

So this has raised a few possibilities for me: Maybe I would also read 30 Rock and not think it's funny. Maybe I'm expecting too much. Or maybe I'm retarded. It's all possible.

I checked imdb and found that "Untitled Williamsburg Project" now has a title and a star attached. And I just don't get it. Maybe other people read it and found it totally hilary, or maybe people can just see her vision and just know it'll be uproarious. I'll give it an interesting premise...it's just not making me laugh to read it. But Tina Fey and Borat? It HAS to be funny, right? I just can't believe I'm wrong in finding this script ass boring. Seriously. If anyone else wants to read this, let me know. I'd like a second opinion.

But only time will tell. Until then, I still love you T-Fey. Hit me up and we'll throw down some comedy.

Chow Down

It's funny to be with really really rich people. I don't feel entirely out of place, as I've been to the same places and don't exactly come from the sticks. I eat at the Brentwood Country Mart, can navigate all of the Beverly Hills shopping district and know what Northern Trust is. I've even been there.

It's just different to me though to act like it's normal to have a home in three or four cities on two continents. I am still looking for one place here. My mom and I don't discuss whether or not she should get the Balenciaga dress. (We are more likely to discuss whether or not I am on drugs, although in all fairness, I think many people that know me discuss whether or not I am on drugs.)

Last night we all went to Mr. Chow for a family meal. Again, I've been to Mr. Chow with my family. But it's different when the entire staff greets you with hugs and the paparazzi takes your picture as you leave. It's just a bit different. I'd like to think this is all acclimating me for when I finally get my own sitcom on premium cable and have a string of celebrity romances that are extensively covered and speculated upon in Us Weekly and various internet blogs. But until then I'm happy to cozy up to the eastside and pretend I'm a hipster (I may look cool, but I could never be real hipster cool. I like reality TV too much.) and live with other people who hope their checks clear each month. These days I'm more broke than Bel Air.

All in all my proudest moment of the day was being the only one to get the little man to stop crying when he was tired and cranky and it was way past his bedtime. I did a quick execution of The Bubble Dance that I had invented earlier that day and through the tears he started doing The Bubble Dance too with instant joy and spontaneous whimsy. That kid rocks my world.

Say yes.

So it's abundantly clear I'm not writing much these days. Yesterday I got an email bitchslap from Flipit because of it. So this week I'm back on Denise, and here and maaaaybe even gonna think about starting that short story.

In the meantime, here is a list of things that have been occupying my time this summer:
1) Watching a lot of MXC. A lotttttt.
2) Refreshing Craigslist all day everyday looking for random ways to make money.
3) Getting free passes to high vis gyms in West Hollywood.
4) Reconnecting with coffee.
5) And wine.
6) Going out with cute boys who cook meals and have big TVs.
7) Chasing Hermes around Beverly Hills.

Which brings us to Hermes. This week I finally started the celebrity nanny stint a few hours a day just to see how we all like each other. Over the past couple years I've been a lukewarm part-time nanny. I've been fortunate to have all great kids, but it's been a paycheck, not a career. But for the first time I have to say I LOVE this kid. Like, abnormally, I love him. He is fun and funny and smart and totally chill. We were like instant BFFs.

Yesterday I went with the family to an event in West Hollywood that looked a lot like an episode of "Entourage". (A ton of typical LA girls and Adrien Grenier, who I've seen out in the world twice now, and I'm not unconvinced he's not just Vinnie Chase.) And in the midst of this swank event, (my mom won't believe it) I have never been happier to be walking around with a baby. Like myself, he wanted to continually be by the massively-tiered cupcake stand. And I seriously had the most popular date in the joint. The kid is an attention magnet. Another thing I can totally get behind.

And best of all, at 21 months, he's already highly googleable. Just how I like my men.

Also has a big TV.

It's Motherf*cking summer, bitches!

That's what my friend said gleefully as we clumsily made margaritas with orange popsicles in a West Hollywood kitchen on the night of America's independence. And summer it is. I never seem to be online anymore. I am having slumber parties, dating boys, making new friends and living a real life in the real world. It's nuts.

And now I have to git to work on the interweb and all I can do is stare zombie-like at the CNN homepage and think about how this dude looks like he was born to bite a Wimbledon cup. Congrats whoever you are. You are hot.



Also, in these past few weeks I have begun concocting a large, excellent prank which will culminate in spring of '09 and will be highly documented and, ideally, sponsored Star Jones style. Coverage will begin here as soon as I get my head out my ass.

In the meantime, enjoy the motherfucking summer.