We got a letter from our landlord. They're coming tomorrow to do an inspection of the property.

We've had a hole in our kitchen wall since the Grimaldi's Christmas party. Ian punched a hole in it because he was pissed off at my sister.

Our garage door has been broken since the final game of the National League Championship Series, when Ian was driving drunk and crashed into it.

Our door frame has been broken since the Christmas party as well. We have no idea how that happened.

Yesterday, Ian and his dad fixed everything.

My sister said that if she knew before that that is what it would take to get Ian to fix all that stuff, she would have forged a letter a long time ago.

She's decided that, after we move out (Ian is staying in the house), she's going to put milk chicken bombs in the vents. Because the only way she's going to get her security deposit back, since Ian is staying here, is if Ian gives it to her when he moves out. And like THAT is ever going to happen, considering he still owes her for BAILING HIM OUT JAIL, not to mention, like $600 in rent.

Also, he had people over yesterday. And early afternoon, his girlfriend, Jocelyn, asked me if she could have one of my Smirnoffs. I said sure.

Now, I'm a nice person. I don't mind if you eat/drink my stuff, as long as you ask and you don't finish it. HOWEVER, there are very few things I actually drink that you can buy in the store. Although, I do live with two bartenders, so they could make me mixed drinks, but I don't trust Ian, and Kate and I are rarely home at the same time. Anyway, I told Jocelyn she could have a Smirnoff.

I went to have one with dinner, and there were only 2 left. I had 5. I told her she could have ONE. She drank THREE.

NOT cool.

Also, how c l a s s y is it that we have a marijuana pipe in the candy dish on our counter?

And Jocelyn is STILL HERE. She's got to be the worst damn nanny in the world. She's never with the kids!

I'm back!!! I'm sure you're all anxious to hear about my trip, so I'll get right to the details.

THURSDAY

My first solo trip, and I barely made it out of Phoenix before I started freaking out. I couldn't find the counter where I was supposed to check in, and I just walked up and down the ticketing area, and I finally called Kate - near tears - to tell her that I couldn't find where I needed to go. I couldn't find the America West counter. I looked everywhere, and I was seriously freaking out. Turns out that America West was bought by US Airways, and that's where I needed to go. Which is where I was.

I was too nervous to really eat, so I had about half a sandwich and some of a cookie. The flight was delayed - we were supposed to leave at 1:21 but didn't even start boarding until 1:30. It was one of those puddle jumpers that only seats about 50 people, so there was no different between c l a s s e s (and here I was, all excited that my ticket out was first c l a s s - that just meant I was in the front of the plane). I don't fly very well anyway, and those puddle jumpers make me really nervous, and I was by myself. So it was not a fun flight. And as soon as I landed in LA, it hit me.

I'm alone. In LA. With no way to get anywhere.

Mom could tell, when I called to let her know I'd arrived safely, that I was freaking out. I guess my voice was a little too perky. But once I figured out how I was going to get to my hotel, I was doing better. Also, having my luggage and being able to put on a sweatshirt helped, as it was only 65 and I'm used to triple digits. Anyway, I took one of those shared ride courtesy vans. We had to circle the airport until we had a full van, so it took me about an hour and a half to get to my hotel, although I got a lovely tour of the dodgy end of LA.

First impression of Los Angeles: It's big.

My hotel, FYI, was awesome. Right on Hollywood Boulevard, and they upgraded me to a suite - while I'm splurging, I figured I might as well splurge.

My room

room again

another shot of the room

I giggled and squealed when I walked in and realized that this was my room. I couldn't believe I actually got to stay there.

The view from my window:

Grauman's

the Hollywood sign

downtown skyline

The hotel was right next door from the TV Guide building (Mom said I should have walked in an demanded a job) in addition to being across the street from Grauman's Chinese Theater.

While it was still light, I decided to walk up and down Hollywood Boulevard. I was in a touristy area, so there were a lot of people around, but I didn't think it was wise for me to be walking around alone at night. Anyway, I just took a walk. I found Steve McQueen's star on the Walk of Fame (seriously like a block and a half from the hotel) - I also took a picture of Vivien Leigh for Kate and Carrie. (Found James Coburn, too, but I didn't go far enough to see Audrey Hepburn - she's on Vine.) And I think some people have more than one star. I swear Donald O'Connor twice. I also took some pictures of anything Scientology, just because I get a kick out of it. I walked all the way down to Hollywood and Vine, where of course I got a picture of the street signs, and then I walked back up, taking pictures of anything that was interesting.

The Walk of Fame is weird. The names on the stars don't all face the same way, and there are some kind of randomly off to the side - but there are also blank stars. It just struck me as odd.

Walking down Hollywood Boulevard:

Steve McQueen's star

the Pantages

Hollywood & Vine

Wax Museum

Ripley's

At Hollywood and Highland, there is a big shopping center. I walked around there for a while. It's adjacent to the Kodak Theater, where they have the Academy Awards. I ate dinner at Johnny Rockets and wandered around a while, then went to Grauman's Chinese theater to look at the hand and foot prints. My hands are the same size as Paul Newman's! But they're smaller than Steve McQueen's and way smaller than Gregory Peck's. Also, I almost got my foot stuck in Tom Hanks's shoe print.

Steve McQueen's hands

And I didn't get a picture, but there was a Michael Jackson impersonator outside the theater. (That's the thing about being alone. There are very few pictures of me, and the ones that I have are the one-handed dealy.) Browsed a couple of souvenir shops, then went back to the hotel and explored that for a while.

the Hollywood Roosevelt

The hotel is really cool, and part of the 'historic Hollywood' tours. It was the site of the very first Academy Awards (made sure to go check out the 'Oscar room', where the ceremony was held), and of Marilyn Monroe's first film shoot. Also, it's supposedly haunted. There have been reported sightings of Clark Gable. The guidebook says that it's a party place for young celebrities, but I unfortunately didn't see any while I was there.

me in my room

FRIDAY

My plan was to get to the beach around noon-ish, spend an hour or two there, and get back to the hotel around three to traipse around Hollywood some more. That was the plan, of course, but that didn't happen. The metro station near my hotel turned out to be a bus stop (also the rail line - the subway - was across the street, but I didn't figure that out until later). I ended up on this bus that let me off I had no idea where. So then I had to catch another bus, then another bus, then another bus, trying to get to the 7th Street station so I could take the metro rail to Redondo Beach. Eventually, I ended up on Wilshire Boulevard, and I saw a bus coming that said 'Santa Monica', so I got on. Santa Monica is a beach. At that point, any beach would do. About 2 1/2 hours after first boarding a bus, I finally got to see the Pacific Ocean.

Santa Monica Pier

Pacific Park

pier again

the Pacific Ocean

me and the Pacific

I was freezing. I bought that pair of shorts on Wednesday (that cost me $60), and I was determined to wear them. However, it wasn't all that warm, and the breeze coming off the ocean was chilly. So I was a little cold. But I still tromped down to the water so that I could stick my toes in the Pacific Ocean.

my toes in the Pacific

Since I was in Santa Monica, I checked out the pier. Probably would have been more fun if I had been with someone, but it was nice to be there. I saw the Bubba Gump Shrimp Company and that E! booth they always talk about on E! News. I walked to the end of the pier. It was pretty cool, but I was cold, so I didn't want to stay. I walked back to Wilshire through Palisades Park, and then got back on the bus.

Palisades sign

me in the park

Palisades Park

It was a long ride, but it goes through Beverly Hills, so that was neat. And of course, I got off the bus on Highland (the nearest major street to my hotel) thinking that there would be another line going towards Hollywood. Nope. I walked up Highland about three blocks before I figured out that I was going to have to walk back four blocks to La Brea to catch the bus. But I finally made it back to the hotel, where I put on jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers.

I walked down Hollywood Boulevard again, on the phone with Carrie. I gave her a running commentary as I was walking down the street.

My feet, by the way, look like hamburger meat. I wasn't anticipating a lot of walking on Friday, and I was going to the beach, so I wore flip-flops. Now I have cuts on the top of my feet from my sandals and blisters from my flip-flops, which pretty much guaranteed me wearing my Converse for the rest of the trip.

SATURDAY

The Converse, it seems, were not the appropriate choice of shoe for the trip. In addition to the cuts from my sandals and the blisters from my flip-flops, I got a blister on my pinky toe from my sneakers. I had to walk so as not to aggravate my ankle (which I messed up walking around in those chunky flip-flops), so I got a blister. But walking so as not to aggravate the blister hurt my ankle, so it was really a no-win situation.

I meant to hit the 10:30 tour for the Kodak, but had to settle for the 11:30. I killed time in the Hollywood and Highland shopping complex.

Hollywood sign

elephant statues

shopping complex

fountain

me again

Kodak lobby

another view of the Kodak

The tour of the Kodak was awesome - I actually got to stand on the stage where they present the Oscars. Unfortunately, no pictures were allowed at all inside the theater. When you're on stage, the theater looks a lot smaller than it does on TV, but when you're in the seats (we got to go up in one of the boxes), it looks much bigger. This is apparently a trick of the design so as to make it feel like a smaller performance for the actors. And the red carpet actually begins on the corner of Hollywood and Highland and is the street itself, then turns and goes up into the lobby. The signs are taken down and curtains are put up, so that you can't see the stores on TV. Also, they have a bar on every floor of the theater. They have an open bar prior to the show, so that people not nominated or presenting won't hang around outside watching interviews, and they can start on time. But the telecast itself is only open to members of the Academy - even the seat fillers are Academy members. (Seat filling at the Oscars is not a paid position anyway.) The dressing rooms are surprisingly small, the orchestra pit is the second largest in the world (after the Sydney Opera House), and the ballroom where they have the Oscar party is different every year - carpet and everything.

I popped in a couple of poster shops on the boulevard, just to test my knowledge. One of the stores was selling scripts for $15, and although they didn't have any CSI scripts (which I wanted - good research if I ever hope to write for NY one day) they did have The Great Escape, which I didn't buy. I also ducked in to the Hollywood Museum to check it out. It was kind of cool, but nothing in there really made me freak out - a must for Marilyn Monroe fans, though. They had a lot of stuff about her. They did have one of Scarlett O'Hara's dresses from Gone with the Wind, but I couldn't take a picture, as I had to check my camera when I bought my admission. Personally, I was kind of disappointed that I wasted $15 on the museum, when what I really wanted to see was the Hollywood Entertainment Museum - which is unfortunately being remodeled, and was therefore closed.

I got on the metro (having finally figured out where the train was) and went to Citywalk at Universal Studios, mainly to go to the Hard Rock Cafe and buy Carrie her drumsticks (she collects them). I also bought myself a T-shirt. What I really wanted was a zipper hoodie that just said 'Hollywood', but I didn't like the hoodies, and the ones that just said 'Hollywood' weren't hoodies. Plus, they were $50. The ones at the Hard Rock were, amazingly, cheaper, and super cute, but they didn't have any in my size. I walked around there for a while - it's larger than the one in Orlando - then went back to the hotel.

Universal Studios globe

City Loft

Hard Rock Cafe

The Tropicana, the poolside bar in the hotel, is supposed to be a place that celebrities go to, so I thought I'd go there and hang out for a while, have dinner, maybe see someone famous. But I was there too early to spot a celebrity, and I was there all of five minutes before some creepy guy came over and started hitting on me. He didn't speak very well - kind of slow ("You...have...pretty...blue...eyes"). It was like how talking to Papa (my grandfather) used to be - like it was an effort to think of what he wanted to say. He drank like half of my drink, and then kept trying me to go somewhere with him - physically tried to pull me from my seat - but I was waiting for food, so I told him I had to say there so they could find me. He eventually left, only to come back halfway through my meal, when he sat down again and helped himself to my fries. He kept smelling my arm. And he was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't for the life of me understand him, so he called me evil and then left. Sufficiently creeped out, I decided to leave. He came over to me again as I was closing out my tab and offered to walk me back up to my hotel room. I was like, "I'm good," and practically ran out of there.

I had intended to go back down later - it was Saturday night, after all, and I did want to try to see someone famous - but I fell asleep watching Chicago.

SUNDAY

I went to Rodeo Drive. I got a late start and then somehow managed to miss the bus stop. I was in Santa Monica before I realized I'd gone too far. Rodeo Drive was neat, but if you don't shop - which I didn't - it's kind of boring after a while. I walked up and down the street about three times before I decided to head back. I didn't even go into any stores. I just kept thinking about Pretty Woman and was afraid they'd see me in my Hong Kong Phooey shirt and Converse and tell me to leave. Although I was tempted to go into the Armani store and see if they had any posters up for the eyewear campaign (featuring Carmine), but I didn't.

Rodeo Drive sign

Rodeo Drive

Rodeo Drive again

By the time I got back to the hotel, I was exhausted. I had pretty much done everything I wanted to do in Hollywood, and I didn't feel like getting back on a bus or the train. Also, I was seriously tired of walking, so I decided that my last night in Hollywood would be spent in the hotel. This is when my only Carmine sighting of the trip happened, and it came in the form of Black Hawk Down, which was on TV. And even that doesn't count, because I didn't see him! I know I must have, because I saw the whole movie, but I couldn't tell which one was him. Damn war movies.

I treated myself to dinner in one of the hotel's three restaurants, the Dakota - the Tropicana, and then 25 Degrees is the other one. Supposedly, celebrities like to eat at the Dakota - probably because it's dark and in the back of the hotel, not visible from the street. And also because it's freaking expensive. I had a fun drink (some kind of butterscotch martini), steak, and mac and cheese, and it was almost $74. Just for me. Now, the steak was pretty much the best steak I've ever had, and I got a nice assortment of breads to choose from, but I about choked on my water when I saw the bill. Holy geez.

MONDAY

Not much to report. I had called the shuttle the night before to schedule a pickup, and it was supposed to come between 10:30 and 10:50, so I watched TV. As I was looking out the window, saying goodbye to Hollywood, I happened to see the van - 20 minutes before it was supposed to pick me up. So I decided I should go downstairs and check out. Turns out that they had scheduled to pick someone else up in the same hotel 15 minutes before me, which is just stupid.

I had about two hours to kill in LAX, so I walked around, which only further aggravated my ankle - I look forward to walking nowhere for the next week or so. Eventually, I bought a couple magazines, lunch, and sat down to wait for my flight.

And here I am, back in Phoenix.

*sigh*

I have a crapload of them, just so everyone knows. :P There are 136, including 5 animated (D/L).

Preview

The rest are here . 

Feel free to snag as many as you want, just please credit me if you use them. :) 

My cat, Mario, died over the weekend. :(

Dave called me on Saturday. Dave never calls me on weekends, unless he wants me to bid on something for him. He told me that Friday night he was going through some of the auctions I've been doing, so that he could upload them onto eBay. There are over 300 of them. I keep working and working and he takes forever to go through them. Anyway, he went through some (like, 12) and decided to stop and just upload those. Then, as he usually does, he checked for updates for the software and downloaded them.

He somehow managed to corrupt the database.

Those 300+ auctions I've been working on for the last week and a half? Gone. I'm going to have to redo them.

I have never wanted to quit a job more than I want to quit my job right now.

Dave has decided the solution to 'our' problem is that we need to start having an external backup for the database, in case this happens again.

I'm sorry, if this happens again, I'm quitting.

My solution to 'our' problem is that Dave fricking uploads the auctions. Why were there 300+ untouched auctions on the laptop in the first place? Isn't this how you make your damn money, you moron? HOW HARD IS IT TO READ SOME AUCTIONS? Obviously really goddamn hard, because some of that stuff that got corrupted was from several weeks ago.

He was so adamant about transferring all the inventory from the website to the eBay store, yet letters O through S, all of the Star Wars posters, and most of the James Bond ones, have yet to be uploaded. Not to mention about four clients worth of auctions.

And to top it all off, Tom didn't come in on Monday. Apparently, he's been cut down to only two days a week.

Are you freaking kidding me? Not only do I have to redo all the stuff I've done the past week and a half, I have to do all of Tom's stuff, too. As a matter of fact, today I was trying to, you know, redo all the stuff that Dave managed to mess up, and he's like, "You might as well take those two to the post office, and get me some milk."

*throws something*

He printed out the invoices for all the posters that the auctions finished Sunday night. Did he do anything with them? No. He left them on the counter. He couldn't even match them up. That takes like 15 minutes.

What the hell does Dave do with his time? I'll tell you what he does - he sits in his chair and reads the newspaper and checks his stocks and books his trip to Vegas. He complains about the people that call him and 'waste his time', as he returns back to his newspaper.

And since he didn't pay me on Friday, I made him pay me yesterday. He made some crack about, "Oh, you like to be paid on Mondays now?" And I said, "Well, you didn't pay me Friday, and I kind of need my paycheck."

I'm ready to move.

Today, my sister saved me from what could possibly have been the worst day of any of my jobs (of course, nothing supersedes the day I came home from a craptastic day at DEB only to discover that my grandfather had died).

I was not in a good mood already this morning, because I didn't sleep very well last night. And I was in the middle of packing my lunch for today when Dave called me. He was surprised I hadn't left yet (it was 5 to 10, I generally leave at 10), and he wanted me to stop at the linen-backer and pick up a poster he'd sent for restoration. It was on my way, so it's not a big deal, but considering I have a **** of work in front of me, I was not in the mood. He lives 15 damn minutes from the linen-backer - why the hell can't he do it?

So picked up the poster from the damn linen-backer and took my sweet-ass time getting to Dave's. I took the scenic route - went down to the next cross street and back up. So I get there about 10 minutes later than I usually do, and Tom's not there.

Tom doesn't show up.

So as soon as I get there, I have to match up the posters from yesterday that he didn't do, and the ones that ended last night. Then I had to package all the ones from the people who paid. I'm on number two out of probably 20 when Dave goes, "Hey, when you're done, can you set up the camera for some pictures?"

Here's a thought: why don't YOU set up the camera for some pictures? Here is how you do it. He has a platform on wheels that's leaning up against the side of the house. You put that down. You put the blanket on top. You set up the tripod. Boom. Done. Takes about two minutes.

I'm still packaging, of course. I'm fighting with boxes, because the new cardboard pieces we have are about 1/2 an inch too big for our boxes that we use. Then I had to construct a giant priority box for someone who had ordered lobby cards and a linen-backed poster. (Here's a hint if you ever order posters - never order a folded AND a rolled one from the same place. It sucks to ship it.) While I'm packaging, he's eating lunch.

When I finish packaging, I go and set up the camera. When I go back in and tell him that the camera is set up, he has the gall to go, "You got nothing to do?"

Um... NO. I have TONS to do, you jackass. But you SAID you wanted me to take pictures, and you didn't TELL me what I was taking pictures of.

I still have about 200 store listings to do. What does he do? Sends me to the damn post office. Then he says, "When you get back, we'll take pictures." Shouldn't I be working on getting back the original listings before we do new ones? (By the way, did he upload any of the 100 or so I did yesterday? Hell, no.) From the parking lot of the post office, I called Kate and told her I had half a mind to quit. I understand that I'm his assistant, and I'm going to do some grunt work as a PA. But this is ridiculous. I'm assisting nothing - I'm DOING everything. Hiring Tom was supposed to lighten my workload, not fricking double it.

I explained everything to my sister, and she had this as a solution:

Bugger off work at go shopping with her.

She was going shopping at the Scottsdale Fashion Place, about two miles from where I work in Paradise Valley. Colton's sister is getting married next week and isn't having a bridal shower, so Kate was giving her a 'bridal shower in a basket' and needed to buy stuff for it. She told me to tell my boss I had 'female problems' and join her at the mall. I told her that I couldn't do that, because it was just leave me that much more work tomorrow, if I didn't do anything today. I told her to message me when she got there, and I'd see how I was feeling.

When I got back to Dave's, I couldn't find him. So I ate lunch. After lunch, I took the one picture, and then Kate called. She says, "Use this as an emergency call and come shopping." So I went to Dave and said, "That was my sister." And he goes, "Do you need to go?" And yes, I did need to go. Because otherwise, I would have had a nervous breakdown.

So I went shopping with Kate. The last time I was in the Scottsdale Fashion Place was when I came out here in 2003 for the Fiesta Bowl. I can't afford anything in that mall (let me give you an idea of how expensive it is - there's a Tiffany's), but it was fun watching Kate spend money she doesn't have. When we were done in Scottsdale, we drove to Chandler, a mall that is a little more in my price range. First we went to New York & Co., where I bought two shirts. Then we went to try and find me khakis and/or shorts, because I have no shorts that fit. I ended up buying a pair of cargo capris, a jean skirt, a new pair of sandals, and a purse at Aeropostale. And it was only $50. Not bad, considering full price on the skirt was $50 alone. On our way out, we stopped at the shoe department in Dillard's and each bought a pair of navy Converse.

We got dinner at KFC and after dinner we went to Michael's, then Mervyn's.

Retail therapy seriously works.

But I still want to quit my job.

Preview:

The rest are here . 

Snag as many as you'd like, but if you use them anywhere, please give me credit. :D 

Just a quick little note to let everyone know that, yes, I am alive.

See? This is me alive. 

Dave made mention of interviewing people tomorrow and possibly Saturday. Does this mean I finally get the help he promised me like a month ago?

Of course, you know he's only hiring help now because in about a week I go on vacation, and he's faced with doing all the work himself. :P

I know I shouldn't let idiot reviews get to me. Especially when they can't properly spell, punctuate, or capitalize, let alone string words together in anything that resembles a coherent thought. But when the story I've worked so hard to write, the story I've busted my ass trying to make realistic and believable and GOOD, goes COMPLETELY over their idiotic little heads, I feel like I failed as a writer.

Because, honestly, do these people think that me, one of the shippiest D/L shippers out there, who runs a D/L C2 at ff.net, who has the most cumulative posts at an all D/L forum (when I joined at the end of August), would write an NY fic where Danny and Lindsay DON'T end up together? Especially when it says "eventual D/L" in the summary?

I got a review - anonymous, of course, because this person obviously didn't have enough of a spine to sign it - where the person goes, This should not be in a D/L C2! IT'S EVENTUAL D/L. Not all stories start out with Danny and Lindsay happy and fluffy and in love. Also, I don't know if they happened to notice that the only C2 it's archived in is the one that I maintain. But I didn't add my fic, one of the staff did. Actually, I think it was my gamma - who KNOWS that yes, it IS a D/L fic.

And also, seeing as how I AM a writer, and I want to write for a living, eventually, when someone completely tears apart a fic I wrote, it hurts. I pour my heart and soul into these. I agonize over details, over dialogue. Especially Ghosts. I have a beta, a gamma, and a...whatever comes after gamma (I know in the alphabet it's delta, but that sounds weird). I have revised each chapter at least twice. In the case of chapter 6, which was my favorite thing I've ever written EVER, I revised it about a dozen times. I am seriously working my ass off on this fic, because I didn't want it to be like my others, which were fluffy with no real plot (which of course everyone loved - go figure). This is what I do, people. And if someone criticizes the way I do it (in such a manner as to be seen as insulting by other people - not just me), then that burns. Constructive criticism is fine. But if you're going to be a pissy, whiny little brat, I'm going to kick your f*cking ass.

People are morons. Do you hear me, morons? You are morons.

Not anyone reading this, of course. ;)

Should anyone like to read said fic (I'm quite proud of it), here is the link:

Ghosts in the Wind

Yes, it is an NY fic, and I know some of you don't read NY fics. But it's probably one of the best things I've ever written.

Remember when I liked my job?

Yeah. I don't either.