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