New plans...

I read a lot of lifestyle blogs.  If you blog daily about the food you eat, workouts you do and what sponsor sent you a cleaning product to try, I probably read your blog.  I don't know why.

I was going to start blogging my own workouts, food choices and weird LA happenings today.  I was going to start with a workout post.

Instead I'm working from home feeling like a transformer is sitting behind my face pressing forward with all of his might.

Exhibit A

It also feels like pepper spray is oozing out of my eye sockets.

Really glamorous you guys.

I thought it was just a hangover but now I'm not so sure. I don't think answers cause mucus. I don't know though.

Actor quote...

...after reading through some sides...

"I'm gonna go ahead and google "acquisition" unless you know what it means." - Actor

Stress Cake...

The following post replaces the word Stress with the word Cake. 

Things that are Cake when all done together:

Buy first car - piece of Cake

Owning an empty condo that a management company is supposed to be renting out - the Cakiest of Cake

Re-letting your apartment. - Cake

Writing checks to a mover - hand Cake

Packing boxes - cathartic Cake

Doing last improv shows with your teams - sad Cake

Planning enough goodbye dinners/drinks/parties - More sad Cakes

Life is so Cake!

Vanity Post...

10 Facts I Don't Hate About Me:

1. I could watch Bob Vila's This Old House for hours and never get bored. 
2. It takes me 3 hours to finish one cup of coffee
3. I'm 100% addicted to caffeine and if I don't have that 3 hour cup of coffee I go into withdrawl (headache, nausea, moodiness, tears, suicidal thoughts etc...)
4. I don't think the midwest is full of nice people. I'm from the southern half of the U.S. If you want actual nice people, go to the south. 
5. I love Reddit.
6. I laugh at r/puns more than anything else I watch during the week.
7. I can completely tune out everything that is happening around me so much so that I miss about 60% of what people say to me. 
8. I love love love love love love love love love to read books.
9. I have a subscription to US Weekly.
10. I feel guilty when I read the page titled "Stars' Kids, they're just like us!" We shouldn't be paprazzing their children. It's gross. 

Thanks for indulging.

Bus Quote...

"When you robbed that savings and loan, you got like $12,000 and took off and I didn't see you again and then you came back and the first thing you asked me, you asked me for a cigarette."

This was right before he complained about his other friends selling their pussies for a dollar.

That Thing They Call Adulthood...

Get a job, they say.

Get a job so you can finally pay your bills and not have that worry on your plate.

Get a job so you can eat normal foods, buy shoes without holes and pay for headshots without a credit card.

Get a job.  

So you get a job.

That job is fine. You meet some fine folks. You try new restaurants. You discover you have more fashion sense than you once thought. You realize that paying full price for a haircut and the occasional manicure does actually make you feel better.

Then one day you’re really tired, you were finally able to wash your underwear at 10pm at night and you’re scrolling Facebook asking what the fuck happened to your creativity.  You can’t find it.  It’s gone.  The most creative thing you’ve done all day was to combine playing fetch with your dog and jogging around the apartment to get a workout in.  

Sometimes at work you say to people that your job is creative.  That it uses the parts of your brain that all your creative pursuits use. Okay. 

You sit down one morning in a conference room all by yourself for some quiet time.  You say, I’m going to write right now.  You open up a Google doc.  The next thing you know you’ve written nothing because you’ve been sitting in front of a blank screen falling asleep with your eyes open because your brain is tired.

You remember when the world seemed a big, vast mountain to climb.  Now it seems small, claustrophobic and full of pollution.

You realize that finding your creativity is now the hardest mountain you climb.  You would do anything to find the creativity again.  You would quit it all and move into your car, if you had one.  You would shower at the gym.  You would do this so you could read a book by the lake at 11am, then write about it, then do some yoga, then write some more, then go to a rehearsal and go home.  And you would be present for all these things in mind and body.  

Instead you go get your underwear out of the washing machine and put it in the dryer.  

You eat an ice cream bar.

You take a shower.

You sleep.

You wake up.

You sleep some more.

And instead of finding the positives, you see only the negatives because your creativity is sleeping and it can’t be bothered to help you see the light this time.

Do Not...

...buy a dog if you're an artist of any kind.

It's very romantic, the idea of having a dog. A companion. Someone to greet me when I walk home. Someone to snuggle with all the time, not just when I'm sick or crying over my TiVo not recording last week's Welcome to Myrtle Manor (that shiz is NOT on my onDemand).

I'll get this out of the way. I love my dog and I wouldn't be able to live without him. He is a giant light in my life and I don't mind spending $400 a month on organic food, dog walkers and squeaker toys.  Now that you know that....

Do not get a dog. Instead of spending your time writing, researching, painting, Meisnering or whatever you do, you'll end up staring at your dog.

"Oh look, he's sniffing the wall!"
You'll say that. And then just keep watching him.

"Oh, how cute he's laying on your backpack honey!"
You'll say that and then just stare at him.

You'll walk into your office to sit down and start writing your epic novel only to have the dog beg to be in your lap.  So of course you pick him up.  And then he insists on resting on your left arm, which you think is fine since you're right handed, but then you realize typing an epic novel with one hand is impossible. So you try to write it with pen and paper, but then you realize you've spent most of your life typing so writing freehand makes your joints hurt too much.

If you have a dog that doesn't fit in your lap, you won't have this problem, right? No. You will. Most big dogs I've met think they are lap dogs. He might not make it into your lap but you'll still never get to type because he'll insist on trying to make it or lick your hand, which he can reach, and your hand will be covered in the slimiest slobber you've ever encountered because big dogs slobber a lot.



All of this will happen.

You could be warming up your vocal cords, but the dog wants to be chased and then chase a ball and then chase you again.

You could be pencil drawing the Empire State Building, but you can't because you're dog is looking at you holding in it's pee and once you get him outside he'll be so excited to sniff the weeds that you don't want to ruin his fun and take him back inside.

Dogs are a time-suck.

They also teach life lessons.

You know what's the worst? Knowing that if I hand my dog a brand new rope toy, he will freak the eff out and jump for joy while holding it in his jaw.  If I sit down and write a short story I'll hate myself for hours because no matter how many pages I write, I'll hate them all and they will all suck and I'll feel like vomiting because writing feels like vomiting.

And the there's the dog in the corner panting with glee because he found his bone.

And then I'm more angry.

Don't get a dog.



They are just too effing cute and adorable and crap. Much more adorable than studying
Uncle Vanya.

Riggins Pee-Paw Mutt-Butt Anderson aka, my dog the adorable distraction.