"La Munkya" - Written By A Kid Ep 3 by Ghostbot Animation Studios

This is one of the best things ever done by my friends. Watch the whole series and support for a second!! My goal is to get Ellen to watch it. :) This one's my personal favorite... "Written by a Kid" a web series by Josh Flaum and Will Bowles. They get kids to tell them awesome stories and then bring them to life. Genius. http://youtu.be/O_UWRUacIuk

My Big Sting Current mood:angsty (actually written June 3rd 2008) So here's something. I got busted this week by a big bad undercover sting operation brought to a local bar near you by the BURBANK POLICE DEPARTMENT. Yeah, that crack team of special ops, none of whom happen to be taller than me. I'm 5'4. I'm a woman. No worries though, they're all certainly thicker than me. I'm sure regular patrol of the local Diner, Harry's, is very very important as well. Dangerous criminals who like their hash browns well done. I was tending bar on a very busy night during a Laker game. I was alone behind the bar and slammed. 2 girls come up, ask for Coronas and hand me a $20. As any bartender would agree, when you're slammed that's a dream order. In, out, cash, easy. Done. Go away. Next. I don't even think I looked at them. Big mistake. 20 min later, my manager comes behind the bar and tells me he has to see me downstairs. Now? This must be serious. Christ what the hell did I do wrong now? As my co-workers know, I haven't exactly been star employee over the years but I'm still there so it can't be that bad right? Then I turn the corner and there are 3 tiny cops waiting for me! Do I need to re-mention that the bar is packed and now I'M more interesting than a fucking Laker Game? In LA?! Leave it to me. I should sell tickets to my floor show, get Nicholson a drink and a chair, he'll love this action. I immediately assume for a second that a family member has died. Because my family is certainly important enough in the government's eyes to warrant an in-person notification from the Burbank Lollipop Cop Guild. Tiny cop 1 says, we just need to talk to you downstairs for a moment. Now I'm legitimately scared. We go downstairs in the front lobby and I try to go into the office where it's quiet and PRIVATE. Oh no! Privacy is not a luxery I am afforded in this scenario. Then I spot 2 girls holding Coronas looking guilty. Christ. Karma's a bitch my little friends, karma's an angry bitter frigid bitch. The only nice cop (a female) explains to me that I have just sold alcohol to a minor. Gulp. My immediate reaction on this day is to start crying. In my defense I am very very hormonal on this particular date, otherwise I may have been able to keep my shit together. As it turns out, it may have been the best reaction. I think it saved my job. I digress. So I start to cry, not for my overwhelming guilt at selling 2 Corona's to 18 yr olds, cuz that's just deplorable. No I, at this point, assume without doubt that I have just lost my job. I have no money and subsequently owe a lot of that same money I don't have to companies who will take parts of my life away. I need a new car, have to pay my rent, pay insurances, gas is $4.50 a gal, have to join SAG, get my hair done, ole girl could use a wax, Jesus, I have shit to pay for!! So as I'm crying and crying harder by the minute, people are swirling around me and freaking out. The owner is standing in the corner surrounded by his own posse looking very anxious. The immediate manager and our general manager are, bless their hearts, trying to comfort me while trying to comply with the Wee Burbank PD's barking orders to go get my purse and my ID. Then they take down all of my info and write it down in unusually large lettering onto a form on a clip board. This is so surreal to me that I now assume for a moment that this is a bad dream or mushroom trip or, hopefully, a punk. Why is she writing my social with a Sharpie, I keep wondering thru my tears. Wtf is going on? WELL.. that clipboard is for me to hold, you see. For me to hold up in front of my chest, with lettering large enough for the CAMERA to see. While the 2 Corona weilding snitches stand on either side of me to prove the event took place. Now I feel myself start to cry again because this is close to the most humiliating thing I've ever gone through. To stop myself I make a joke, of course. I simply say "Good thing I'm in comedy". This angers a particular member of the Tiny Cop Guild. An officer I'd like to refer to as Officer Napoleon Nugget Fuck. He gets in my face, looks UP at me and screams "Oh cuz you think this is funny?!" I immediately start to cry again and scream back "Does it look like I FUCKING think this is funny?!" I practically hen-pecked him. He backed up and said "OK then". So nice-girl-cop finally hands me my citation, explains that it's only like a traffic ticket, the bar will not be cited, she doesn't think I'll lose my job, I passed this same test last year and it's all gonna be ok. I could've kissed her, but she may have liked it, she had short hair. So now I have to go back to work! Ha ha ha ha ha. Yes. I have cried all the make-up down my face, my eyes are bright spankin red and I look like I've been, oh I don't know, ARRESTED. I finished out the night, had a laugh and was very sweetly taken care of. I am lucky. It all sounds like a big hippie cliche but C'MON?! With all the horrible things in the world and violent rapes going on in the city during that very hour, my serving Coronas to two 18 yr old girls was the issue? They can drive, vote and kill insurgents in Iraq but not have a beer during a Laker game?! I feel entrapped. I feel judged and tried and convicted for the most innocent of crimes. Our priorities in this society are so screwed up. In protest, you can find me most days tapping a keg at a local grade school. Hey, there may be children in Africa that need our help, but there are plenty of sober children right here in our own back yard, America. I'm here to help.

Liquor's in it!

I've recently decided to turn my drinking hobby (not habbit, haters) into something even more entertaining and possibly even educational for you all. I have many adventures planned for you to go on along with me (heh hemmm Miss Meg Librizzi)but today I will give you this little helper. First of all let me say that this particular Tuesday started with a celebratory Guiness (also because I have a slig

ht iron deficiency..)I tagged along to an audition with the boyfriend. While sitting, carelessly, in the casting assistant's desk chair (because I'd had a Guiness and had none of the usual pre-audition fears because I wasn't there for me!)I was approached by, said, casting assistant. "Josh" says to me "Are you here to audition?" "Nope" I say freely, not giving a shit. "Josh" cocks his head to the left, smiles and says "Well you should, are you an actress?" "Yes...." I say. "Sign in over there". Ooookaaaaaay! This is a first. Usually crashing an audition is a serious no-no but I've just been INVITED to crash. Feeling preTTy good about myself I grab the sides. Ummmmmm... Role of...drum roll......sheep. Sheep addicted to MacDonald's and Burger King mind you. SHEEP?! What about my appearance, this Tuesday, made a casting assistant stop in his tracks and INSIST that I run to the sign up sheet?! Whatever, I NAILED sheep. Expect a call back by Thursday. Well this called for more celebration, by golly! Do you capitolize Golly? Not sure. Off to Father's Office, which if you don't know about...stop reading this boring bullshit and go Google (I know you capitolize Google, it's like God) it immediately and go as soon as you can. Full stop. After the best burger in L.A. and three amazing Winter Brews..we stumble upon a liquor store.. Drinking in the variety (pun intended) of each isle I come upon these three horrifying little cans. Pre-mixed and served in tiny cans. Yeah, can't NOT get these. Just can not bypass this car crash. Here is the actual words spoken after each "cocktail". "Going with Margarita first. You know that taste in your mouth right after you vomit? Yeah..yeah..it's like that." "Next comes Long Island. Yep, sugar crap and poop. As bad as Margarita, yeah, no worse, yeah worse...oh God so much worse." I was so fucking terrified of the Vodka Martini in a can, I almost couldn't do it. But no turning back now right? Here goes... "OH HOLY CHRIST ON THE MUTHERFUCKING CROSS IS THAT AWFUL. It is actually indescribable. The closest thing I can come up with is what it would taste like to give a blow job to a roll of nickels that have been collected by a homeless person." I feel it is my duty to you all to continue my quest for new and intersting libations and report back. Salute! Naomi

FRUIT BLOG: Fruit Blog - Guava

FRUIT BLOG: Fruit Blog - Guava

Ants in your pants

My promise to Kara Anne Sutton for Tuesday.

I don't know what my earliest childhood memory is. Some of it's dream like, soft lit. Maybe it happened that way, maybe it's just a collection of faces and smells and musical notes. Maybe I'm subconsciously making stuff up cuz it sounds like a good childhood bit, who knows. But I said I would write about one. This is probably a little later than the earliest but it certainly was memorable.

It was summer. In fact, it was my birthday. What birthday? Not sure, but I think it was 4 or 5. I was born on August 8th. Hot, happy, birthday BBQ swimming with my little friends. One of my presents, I remember, was a decent size blow up Barbie pool. I still love that smell today. The smell of new plastic-y rubber toy stuff! Oh man, when I buy a new shower curtain liner, it's like I'm hiding a sad drug habbit sniffing it with the bathroom door shut.

That day I do remember feeling, truly, like the belle of the BBQ! It was a perfect day. Eventually after playing in my pool and running around the backyard and sitting in the grass eating cake, I had to pee! So I ran into the house and into the bathroom and pulled down my bathing suit and hopped on the toilet, toilet paper in hand. I looked down and the biggest shiniest black ant I had ever seen (probably normal tiny picnic ant by my, now, very tall 5'4 standards) came running from my bathing suit over my knee and onto the floor.

I think the toilet seat burst into flames because that's how fast I flew off of it. I don't remember if I even got to pee! I don't think so. I do remember slamming myself up against the cold bathroom wall, frozen with fear. In a way, it was definately a first in the "what it means to be a girl or have identity with a sexual identity" thingy. The fear wasn't about the ant. It was about the fact that it came from such a place! The fact is that it may not have even been in my pants or even on me. It could've ran up my leg from the bathroom floor. Or even if it WAS there, I was sitting in the grass all day!

But none of those rational ways to wave off an incident like that occured to me at the tender age of whatever. I only assumed that, in some way, that ant meant I was dirty. I don't remember any single moment of that day after that moment. I may have told my mom, I may not have. But I've always thought about it every single time I go to pee. KIDDING. I totally don't think about it at all but I no longer believe I am dirty. Or do I? Or am I? Guess that's for my therapist to work out!

Tag, Kara ;)

p.s. These won't always be public, these Tuesday deals, but what the hell on this one.

Ugh.

Sooo..It's official. I'm what existed in the dark recesses of Mother Theresa's heart. In my restaurant career, I have not only had to kick out a man with Down Syndrome (do you capitolize a syndrom?) for bringing in his own 6 pack of Bud, tonight I had a "sitdown" with a man with Cerebral Palsy about his taking advantage of the establishment's kindness by bringing friends in to get "free stuff". Some say I do/say the things that everyone else is thinking and it's "admirable" but I just kinda feel like shit. I wish someone else would step up now and then and take one for the fucking team so I'm not always the asshole everyone "admires." But no..go ahead and be the nice guy some more. I got this. No one benefits from insincerity, when will the rest of you get that?! EW you are exempt from my rant. You're true to your heart and I "admire" you. Nams out.

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