Archive | March, 2013

The Real Bruce Willis.

25 Mar

bruce-willis-die-hardMost nights at my delivery job, I’m dropping off dinner to the rich and not-famous-in-any-magazines-I-read-or-countries-I-go-to. But SOME nights, it’s like all my pre-teen celebrity fantasies come true in one ho-hum, “Um, OK, this order is going to Mr. Bruce Willis.”

Whaaaaaa?!!!!!! Like, the real Bruce Willis I used to watch in the movies and imagine saving me from exploding explosions at the last minute just in time for a quick badass comment about something cool?? THAT BRUCE WILLIS??!

I got in my car, with his order. The odds of him actually answering the door, are like 50/50. I was trying not to get my hopes up.

“Yippee-ki-yay, Motherfu—-” Well, yes, ok, it was too late.

I arrived at his house — after finally locating it in the dark, and buzzed the front gate.

Bruce Willis: “Hello?”

Crushy Teenage Lauren: “Hi! It’s Lauren from [delivery company]!”

Bruce Willis: “Hello, Lauren.”

Um……. BRUCE WILLIS: “HELLO, LAUREN.” If a meteor had struck me dead right then, I would have floated to Heaven, satisfied with my life’s purpose, which obviously was to deliver Bruce Willis his order of Dominick’s cheesy rice balls.

The gate opened, and I carefully maneuvered my car around like 5,000 black Range Rovers, in the dark. Someone was walking toward me. Omgomgomgomgomg it’s him.

I cracked out a “Hi!” My heart was pounding. I couldn’t believe I was looking at Bruce Willis. (I’m gonna keep saying his whole name.)

Bruce Willis: “Hey there!” Ugh, why is he so cool! He handed me a couple hundreds, even though his credit card had already been charged.

“Oh! We already have your card, so you’re all set.” I handed back the cash.

Bruce Willis: “Hmm! (long, confident pause). Thank you for your honesty.” I think his eyes actually had sparkly diamonds in them.

He signed the receipt and added a fat tip, and we said goodnight.

Bruce Willis: “Just back up slowly and then drive around to the other gate over there…”

“Ok great!” I noticed a red muscle car in the midst of the Rovers. “Is it cool if I take the red one?”

Bruce Willis: WHILE TURNING AWAY FROM ME, with maple-syrup-smoothness, “Sure — If ya can get it started!” And then a giant explosion happened and he shielded me from the shards of glass and metal for a second, before he was called on to his next mission. (– Probably eating some rice balls without me.)

Bruce Willis is one badass mofo. For life.bruce-willis-autograph




Rootin’ Tootin’ Valet.

14 Mar

chris-rock-beverly-hills-copOne night, a few weeks back, I was coming out of a restaurant with a big ole pile of Italian food, on my way to deliver dinner to a nice, wealthy, and high-tipping customer (…right). I had left my keys with the valet, and was walking toward him to make the exchange.

His back was turned toward me.

In the split second that I reached his personal space, but before I had said “Hi! It’s me again! Back for my giant bunch of keys –”, he let one rip.

A huge one. Loud and juicy.

I almost screamed. At the same time, I didn’t want to embarrass him by appearing in the midst of — the action. (Damn these stupid boots with their sneak-up rubber soles.)

He was standing in between the restaurant and my car. So I did this speed-walking wide turn where I approached him from the opposite side – seemingly having just simply strolled out of an Eastern European bridal shop with a bunch of lasagna.

I took my keys. We said nothing. Well, we said “Have a good night”. But he must have known, right? Did he? Surely my face betrayed me, looking all “Youuuuuu farrrrted.”

And “— I heard it. Because I was right behind your asshole.

I drove away as fast as I could. Vowing never to speak of this again.

[Fast forward, to last week.]

Let me set this up by telling you, I drank two “Cruciferous Cleanse” fresh juices, two days in a row, by accident. Any normal person would know what the word cleanse means. I just thought it meant “green”. And “health”.

I was driving my car, on the beat for the delivery job. I pulled up to a classy Mexican joint in West Hollywood. There was nowhere to park, so I waited for the valet to see me.

While sitting in my car, I….. Well. You know. I made a balloon animal. Cruciferous Cleanse had honed in on my guts and was having its way with them.

Of course I put all the windows down immediately. But no big deal. I was just gonna park my car and run into the restaurant.

The valet approached me and said, “I take keys and park car, ok?”

OH GOD. No living thing can survive in this atmosphere.

“O—-K… Um…” I stepped out of my car. “Uh… Lemme just get something.” I made like a LOT of extra motions of getting in and out of my car, waving bits of clothing around, opening and closing doors. It was like I had instant car-exiting OCD.


I was sweating and my stomach grumbled as I waited for some other people’s enchiladas.


I guess I paid it forward. I dunno. Our jobs are hard enough as it is. We don’t all need to be farting on each other.

Maybe someday I’ll be a famous person in a diamond-y Range Rover, pulling up to valet again, for real.

I promise to make sure it smells like fresh baked cookies in there.

Or at least fresh-struck matches.




“Whipped” on Funny Or Die.

5 Mar

funny-or-die-whipped-02 You guys! One of the sketches we shot, just landed on Funny Or Die today. It’s called “Whipped”. And you can watch it here.

Starring funny people Gregg Alexander, Luke Clements, and Dan Magro (and me! The brown haired girl!), it flipsy-doodles stereotypical household roles and puts the men in their place.funny-or-die-whipped-04 — I mean, forces the men into submission.funny-or-die-whipped-01

— I MEAN, the men discover their, um, their empowered… ah… inner phoenixes…?funny-or-die-whipped-03




Frankie Say Freak-out.

4 Mar

brittany-murphy-pretzel-mustardThe other day I was stressed out, reading an article about stress, in Women’s Health Natural YOU Yay Lululemon Fitness Magazine.

It said that a little bit of stress might be good for you! I breathed a tight shallow sigh of relief. Like a cat coughing up a hairball. OH thank God – I thought. I’m not actually shortening my life by thinking about premature death every day. And how I may never have an acting career. Or do anything important. Ever.

I came to the end of the article thinking I’m superhumanly stressed out and it’s a great way to be! Fight or flight 24 hours a day is healthy! This is totally not what everyone says is – oh — ok what is this box over here in the margin…

A sullen little black rectangle read “You might be too stressed if…” And then perfectly described me in bullet points, followed by “See your doctor immediately.” Because you’re shortening your life, Crazy! CALM DOWN! STOP FREAKING OUT! BE LIKE A RELAXED PERSON FOR CHRISSAKES!

My heart felt inflamed and disco dance-y, as I turned the page to find the headline “Heart Disease. Secret Killer of Young Women.” At this rate, I would be dead by page 28.

I put the magazine down. Maybe I can just live with this insane amount of stress. It’s not killing me. Like, visibly

My life in LA is tough. It’s very busy, involves a lot of jobs, research and business planning, few even vaguely uplifting moments, rush hour traffic, little money, lots of hustle, and about .05% career/life satisfaction. Exactly like a vacation in Hawaii!

I’ve tried stress-relieving remedies: books, sun salutations, teas, balms, booze, petting furry animals, mantras, affirmations, praying.

My latest thing, is an app for my iPhone called “Simply Being”. It has relaxing sounds, with a semi soothing woman’s voice guiding you through meditation. I use it like an EpiPen for stressful episodes. I get all worked up over something, then spastically root through my bag for my headphones, plug them in and fire up the sound of the ocean, “Close your eyes…. (kkkkkrrrraaaaaaashhhhhh)…There’s nothing you need to do…. (kkkkkkrrr-seagull-asssshhhhh)… All you need to do is be….”

The problem is, I listen to this at times when I need to be doing other things. With my eyes open. Like driving. Or walking on the treadmill. Or working at my desk in a busy office. People will be murdered in most of my scenarios if I “Just let go”.

I also won this Tata Harper Aromatic Irritability Treatment from Pressed Juicery, that I would never be able to afford myself. It’s like a .1 oz bottle for $65. What you’re supposed to do, is dab it on your pulse points and breathe deep breaths and let the herbs Calgon you away.

I keep this little bottle in my car, because that’s where the road rage is. And since I’m broke, and need it like ALL THE TIME, I dab it once on my face. Pretty much up my nose. I’m not sure it works. I’m usually too distracted by people going “What’s on your nose?” Shut up it’s my irritability oil! RRRRRR!

Another thing I do is work out to numb my brain functions. Last week, I was showering and getting ready in the women’s locker room, thinking “I wonder if anyone notices I’m putting on these dumb socks with this outfit” when I looked over to see some chick doing her makeup, totally naked, except for a towel on her head and black dress socks.

My brain let my socks thing go. Ha! Maybe it’s working!

But lately, I’ve been feeling more out of control of my stress, than usual. It’s starting to affect my body in ways that make me think it is doing more harm than good. I got used to a high level of it and now it’s amplified even more. Anything out of my very small frame of “ordinary”, will send me careening off the edge.

I also feel depressed. Like I just want to be home by myself all the time. If I weren’t so hell bent on curing my anxiety with cardio (and if I had no roommates), I might just be writing this to you, from the permanent indentation of my ass, planted in my bed.

I can only think the anxiety and depression have oddly worked together to kind of keep me moving forward. Like a brown haired robot, who can only feel bad things.

I think I could be living better, even before I finally achieve all my hopes and dreams in LA.

So, I’m on the hunt. For a therapist who can prescribe drugs (where will I ever find one of those in LA oh right they’re on every corner handing out prescriptions like free kittens.). I need a little head break, from this gripping sad/freaking out feeling.

Because this version of me is having a really hard time, and kinda blows. A lot. Debbie Downer and Sucky Stressy (That would be my Garbage Pail Kids name) — time to go. Make way for Harriet Happiness! (– OK, ok. I know. Cut me some slack. My brain’s not functioning at my normal level of wit and charisma…Somebody punch me in the face if I ever act that happy…)



Brittany Murphy (this is not foreshadowing. I just loved Brittany as an actress.)

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