Who knows WHAT is gonna happen

Well, as I sit here, on my huge patio in the Hollywood hills, with my new ipod blasting with out needing speakers, and well, having a few, and NOW noticing my F button wont work until I slam my index f...f...F...Finger on it, I realized something. You never know what the day will bring. I didn't mean to, but I drank a little WAY too much last night. But no hangover. At ALL. Is this a sign telling me, "quit"? Who knows. I've had several. Anyway, as I knock back a f...FFFFew.(I HATE the F button right now) and the Beatles are now playing, I sit back and think what I was thinking when I woke up. My plans, no hangover somehow, and caffFFFFFFFFF (damn this F thing is killing me) caffiene. My errands seemed so simple. And I awoke and thought I had to work. What a sweet feeling it is to FFreak out and realize you really don't have to do SH*T. Amazing. So I ate, went running, ate again, then did stuff. (I just pressed the F button 7 times to get "stuff" out. Mark it 8 dude.) So anyway, as I have NOT a clue of F**K! There's the F key again...anyway, of what I was doing...you know what, I'm typing without it now. Just imagine an F where it needs to be. Actually I have no clue o the point I was trying to make. So, ater all that, enjoy lie. liFe. Damnit. I'm outta here. Where's my ucking beer.

"When you're picky, someone is willing to take that slack. They don't have it. Cherish every second and everything. You only get that once."

(now bitter sweet symphony is playing right on cue) Ahhhh...LIE. Crap...liFe. You can be expecting a youtube video o the F key burning.

LIFE...MINE

So, here we go. Ok, so I HAVE to get this typed out. I just lit a candle in my studio in a Hollywood Hills house, with a match book that says where I work in Beverly Hills. It just dawned on me how crazy, lucky and out of whack my life is, as I am trying my hardest to get it to where I want it. Well, my friends, it evidently ain't up to me.

So to just tip the iceberg, a few months ago I was trying to find an apartment in Santa Monica, which is ridiculous on the cash part. I STILL am...don't you worry. Anyway, So I start to save massive amounts of money. I had it. So here is why.

1. Dental. I had needed a root canal and crown, then I was flossing, and a filling popped out. Now I had to go.

2. Car. My tags. I needed to renew my registration. And well, take care of what my momma gave me and thank God for what I have.

3. New place to live.

So, I go to the dentist, and try to get a filling put back in. He says, "Eh, I don't want to. It's gonna have to be replaced. Your insurance changed." (Beverly Hills dentist only want money...not to help) ALL I NEED is a replacement filling to live. But NO. I walked out laughing.

Now, we get to the car part...&&^^&*(*&^$%$^%#$!!!!!!!!!!!! Anyway, so I go and TRY to get my shite taken care of. They say I need to go to another place to get it checked for smog. I did. It failed 50 bucks later. So I go BACK to them to fix it. They say come in on Monday next week. I bring it in. AND this is what I heard when I took my key off the chain to leave it with a trustworthy auto wizard..."Man, I don't even want to mess with it. There's no telling what is causing the problem. It's really confusing." QUOTE UN-FU**ING QUOTE. So, I laughed and went to work asking my Hispanic friends, who ROCK, if they knew anyone. NOTHING. I don't speak Spanish. So now I asked some co-workers if they knew of anyone. I got answers. NOW we are getting somewhere. Calls are being made at this moment. Stand by...

NOW, today, on my day off from a 50 hour work week, which I am lucky to have and proud to say these days, I go to the DMV. I show up, give her my story, my paper work, WILLING to pay whatever, only to hear this..."You're better off just dodgin' the PO-lice". SSSSSSSSSSSSsooooo....off to the beach I went. Smirk, dazed eyes and expired tags.

I saved all this money for people who want money from people to NOT except it?? WOW. OK, well, here we go.

AAAAAAAAAAAND this is a great selling point...for THIS guy to move to Santa Monica...
I get home after a hard days work. Open the gate, and there are still dudes with no shirts in the garage working. It's been a week if that SHIT for me to come home to. THEN, I meet my new neighbor, who is in a Superman T-shirt, a fake cowboy hat singing at the top of his lungs in a horrible death threatening voice of some song. So, I just get my running outfit on. (shorts and a T-shirt) So I go for a GREAT night run in the Hollywood Hills. I get back, and there is SOMETHING...a THING. As I open the gate I hear, "who are you"? I answer, "I live here, what are you?" And IT, with it's long manly fake horse hair, has a f**king COOKIE MONSTER T-SHIRT on. IT tries to shake my hand, and I hit IT'S hand with my keys. I then quickly scatter to my studio.

SANTA MONICAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!

It was so hot in L.A. I went to the beach to run. I can't WAIT to move there. But I also can't ignore where I was a year ago, and ignore where I would place myself when I moved here. BACK to the matches. I work on a rooftop pool in Beverly Hills, and am living at the TOP of the Hollywood Hills, typing this. Yes, life is a bitch. (Mine? Well, it's a life on Mars I think, and I'd be bored if it was anything else...I think. All I know is that the winds blew those sweet ocean air breezes my way, and I will call that place home very soon.)

"No matter where you are, there is always an up. If not, look right"

APTS

So, I'm looking for apartments. I see these pictures of apartments with huge trees in the entire picture. Are you selling trees or apartments? Second of all, wow. What a view. Who in the F--K wants to look out and see leaves and branches all day? Are you hoping to rent to old people to just sit and stare waiting for it to just up and move? What about winter? It's a bunch of sticks just blocking your view to...I don't know, a nice view of...something else? And let's not forget about those pesky birds chirping as you wake up hungover. What a nightmare. For me, it's either a case of beer in the morning with a BB gun, or move the stupid tree into a forrest where it belongs. Like that of an animal. Humans are so cruel.

When things can't get any worse, they can get better. When things can't get any better, they can get worse. Stay in the middle.

-ME

My one year curse. The curse of L.A. according to ME.

Ok, so...when I decided to take off, and take the plunge into LALA land (L.A.) I had a good friend drive out with me. Chip. I was gonna drive my Ford Ranger out here that probably wouldn't have made it, but my loving mother got me a Honda Accord. (where would I be without my loving family) So, I loaded it up, picked Chip up, went to Cracker Barrel and got a "Cracker Barrel" road map (where all the Cracker Barrels are on the way) and actually got to CA by this means of paper direction. YES, we had NOT a road map, but a Cracker Barrel map. We drove through a few places that I could live the rest of my life without ever seeing, but, they were in the way. And we were driving. So I had to see these places due to me driving and having to use my eyes.

So, we get to New Mexico...

We pulled over on Route 66, at a Phillips 66, at gas pump 6. A drunk Indian asked for money. I gave him some cookies my mom gave me for the trip. I prepayed, came out and the cookies were on the trash can. As I looked around for the closest moving car to push him in front of, he vanished. The cookies stayed.

So after this, we drove WAY down the road to find a place to sleep for the night. I didn't want to see my iMac or tires on a trash can.

We get to CA, and it was awesome! The desert, the storm rolling in (mind you I'm a storm chaser and there was NO rain until, we hit California. Odd.) Anyway, we get to a place in the desert. A gas station and coffee shop. Like, a cool real coffee shop...IN THE DESERT. Miles away from anyting. Like, 50 miles. Do they live there? Coffee and gas. That's their diet.

Upon arrival in Los Angeles, we came to a place that was beautiful, vibrant, city strong and nice. I loved it. AND I MET TERESA'S SISTER. Unfortunately, this wasn't downtown "L.A." or Hollywood. It was Westwood. I asked, well, "Where is Hollywood"? He says, "Oh we'll be there shortly."

We left Westwood. We then entered...HOLLYWOOD. I swear it on my life, welcome to the jungle started playing. It was nerve racking. It was shocking, it was dirty, it was...breathtaking. I felt alive. Palm trees, homeless people and traffic. Ahhhh...

I made it to one of my best friends apt. (Ronnie) where I slept on the floor for three months. He was a friend from Nashville. I quickly got lost in the city and found my way. And when I took chip to the airport, I saw my first police chase, in the next lane, on my first day...on the 101.

So, getting my first apt was amazing. Me and Columbus. It was a dream come true to have our own place. 2 bedroom with parking. As I got settled, I (getting more wine...HOLD) o.k. now for just points about my years here...I don't feel like writing a book yet...

1. After getting my first apt, then getting my first gig as the lead in a Stained music video, I awoke to not just mine, but both me and my roommate's cars being stolen. Had to walk to the police station.

2. They didn't believe me.

3. I walked back and called my landlord. They didn't speak English and I'm sure they still don't.

4. The cops believed me at 6 p.m.

5. I got a rental car. WAIT, they only had mini vans. So I took the battle ship on wheels.

6. I popped the rear tire 30 min later pulling into work.

7. Fixed it, drove it back, only to hear they ONLY had mini vans left. So I took it.

8. Moving out, a week later, I was driving around looking for apartments. As I was looking, the right lane turned into a parking lane. TOTALED a parked car. Got out and laid in the grass for a bit.

9. Took the van back.

10. Got ANOTHER mini FREAKING VAN!

11. Found a studio. The landlord met me, threw ALL of the other applications in the trash can. Said it was mine before I even signed. (Thanks Mrs. Merrel!) btw...that was the only one I saw. 1 in a MILLION chances in L.A.

12. Waited on my old apartment floor until 2 p.m. The next Monday. She finally called and said it was all mine.

13. Got a call from the LAPD saying they found my car, the night before insurance (what a joke) was gonna pay me for my loss. They said "Brace yourself".

14. Saw my car? A 19 year old girl had stolen and lived in my car for 2 weeks. She also turned it into a racing car. Put her Cd's in my CD cases, hung her stuff on the rear view mirror, had teddy bears, all her belongings, meth bags and much much more in the car, put a V-6 decal on the gas tank, racing matts, racing steering wheel cover, USC (imagine that) stickers all in it, other stolen Honda emblems glued all in and over it (as if the factory ones didn't suffice), drew pictures, dented it, and an array of delightful stuff that I want to run her over with her mobile v-6 dream home.

15. Insurance kinda paid to get it fixed, but they left the posh decals in and on it, and her stuff in it. What did they do? Wash it I think. By this time I just wanted my car...or a car. Losers. "Wha...derrr derrrr derrrrr...duhhhh, We're sorry Mr. We thought that the teddy bears, straws cut in half, women's clothes 9 times your size, burned Cd's with misspelled words and other car emblems half way hanging on by a dot of glue were yours." IDIOTS.

16. W.W.I.D. (what would I do?)
Answer: Have an auction at work and auction ALL of her stuff off. I made $16.75
If I sold her soul I'd probably be negative in my account. My momma bought me that car! You don't touch what momma got me! Steal from ME! Not my momma!

16.5 Starved for a long time. Had no clue what I was going to do.

17. I'm done for tonight. That's just the tip of ONE of the ice bergs.

18. Read 17.

(If you want to do something, DO IT. Mountains were made to me reshaped.)

I have no clue what I'm about to type. Shove it.

SO, I just realized, that dinosaurs never existed. God just made bones. That's it. He did that, then was like, hmmm, not really working. So he buried the bones with sand, like that of a kitty litter box, and started new. He then made monkeys. He then quickly realized that these things couldn't type, read, drive, kill each other with regret, get on welfare, make a wheel, tie shoes, make and sell crack, hate all other monkeys, set rules and break them, invent things that make them NOT have to communicate at all, drunk dial, wipe them selves, have egos, have heart break, hold a job down with a family, steal, lie, cheat, murder and write blogs....so he made us. Humans.

Onto other things. Oh yeah, like this thing. (spell check)

OK, so evidently, American Idol is on. I can't believe they hired some blond guy judge in Paula's place. What a twist. Is that Dennis the Menace? Weird. So as I was saying, count your blessings. You only get a few. But maybe...just maybe...you should be contacting the person in charge of the blessing depo. I mean, the squeaky wheel gets the grease right? So, why not ask for a promotion in life? Make sense?

So yea...this is gonna be a long but a goody...I think. If not......WHO CARES. Any who

SO what's worse? Making golf tees out of plastic, using them over and over, then having to burn them and make poisonous air? OR chopping down a bunch of trees to make some itty bitty golf tees we break every time we (I) hit them? Hmmmm...well, either way, I don't really give a rats a$$, but that's just me. I think it's a win/win lose/lose situation anyway. Boo-freakin-hoo. Life goes on.

AND I just got asked about "Unicorns". My reply..."When was the last time you saw a stupid horse with a drill bit coming outta its head? What are they good for? IF they were real, they'd leave holes in the ground every time they ate grass." Waste of animal invention is you ask me. We'd be better off with an elevator that only goes down.

Well, till next time, don't take any wooden nickles or elevators that have no "UP" buttons. Be safe, don't travel, and call the blessing depo. (God) If you didn't get that earlier...just...study harder. Life is a one time deal.

L.A. drivers secret

So yeah, I failed my written driving test 3 times in the same day...in the same hour. And the girl behind the counter was actually rooting for me, and laughed out loud when I missed the last question, failing me. I was so close. NOW, here's my question...HOW do these idiot drivers pass? People in LA CAN'T drive. Maybe, the secret, is to do a line of blow, chug some vodka, be on my cell phone with a hooker at the DMV and throw up on the test. Voila! CA drivers license.

(not to mention my car has been stolen, lived in for 2 weeks and turned into a race car the first year I moved here)

I don't feel like typing anymore than that right now after driving. Bite me.

Oh no...another.

WELL, I know I was going to type all the crap that has happened so far in my life, BUT, I really can't right now. I mean, here's a jist... from growing up in a VERY VERY nurturing home with a perfect (and still are) family, going to school and getting a great education somehow while starring out of the window about 87% of the time I was in a classroom, to getting degrees here and there, to moving to L.A., to hearing people b--ch and complain about their jobs when myself have been on the floor starving to death actually thinking of killing a squirrel in the back yard for food and just wanting to say, "SHUT THE FFFF UP. YOU AINT GOT TO. YOU GET TO...CRY BABY.", to just, well, I'm tired again, so I just can't. I will tell all I promise. Rest and coffee is what I need. Just know that no matter where you are, what's happened, where you came from, no matter who you are, no matter who you've been...God will always have two hands to hold you with.

Son of a...

O.k. ladies and gentleman. (This better have spell checker. Oh wait it does. I just saw it) Um, so THIS is the first of many. I'm not quite sure I should be even starting a blog seeing as when I tried to even sign up, the box that had the "handicap" sign next to it, kept telling me I did it wrong. Over, and over, and over again. I'm surprised I got this far without punching a hole through my *@#*$ laptop right through this stupid site. Hold on. Let me check the spelling...VOILA! How? SCHOOL.

O.k. so again, I'm gonna start this, seeing as I'm quite sure when I talk to other people I feel like I have a life that NO ONE will ever live, have or believe. And to be quite honest, I really can't believe it. Day to day things that happen, people, GOD (who is in full control of my life. Thanks buddy!) making things happen, the city I live in, the stuff that...happens. You get it. If not I really don't care. Just get yourself. That's all that matters.

SO, having said that, there are A TON of things that will be in these stupid little boxes. I would start now, but I had our SHOWBOYS movie premiere last night and I'm a little bit tired to make sense out of change.

I love my family, I love my friends (new and old), and I love Jesus Christ my king. I think sometimes (a lot of times) that I am not measuring up to my full potential as I should, but who's to say? We are given a life. ONE. We are given our own tests. We are given our own circumstances. We are given our own world. Now, I know "what would Jesus do?" But here's the question...He did it with GOD. Now...what do WE do? What do yo have to work with? If you can turn water into wine CALL me. Till tomorrow or whenever I feel like typing again...NO STRESS, NO HATE, NO WORRIES and NO (fill in the blank). -ME