Friday, July 29, 2005

Calling all Pirates...

My college roommate (we will call her "C") is currently working on the movies PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN II & III. She sent the following casting call to me earlier today with the comment, "If anyone has any peg-leg-ed friends with wandering eyes be sure to let them know..."

Casting for Pirates Of The Caribbean
Pirates Of The Caribbean III will begin production August 2005 and shoot thru the middle of next year.
We are holding an open casting call for extras on
Saturday, July 30th 2005.
11:00am to 3:00pm
The Ricardo Montalban Theatre
formerly The Doolittle Theater
1615 North Vine Street
Los Angeles, Ca 90028
Please call (818) 725-2905 for daily updates or keep checking this website.
A map to the location will be posted soon

We are currently ONLY looking for the following types.

Extreme characters and hideously unattractive types, ages 18-50. Odd body shapes or very lean to extremely skinny. Missing teeth, wandering eyes and serial killer looks with real long hair & beards. Wigs & makeup are not what we're looking for. We also need little people, very large sumo wrestler types, extremely tall or extremely short people, albinos, amputees. Any size or shape that is NOT average is best. All ethnicities. Mostly men, very few women.

Asian Men & Women:
We need tons of Asian people of all ages and types to play Townspeople, Shopkeepers, Prostitutes, Pirates etc. All shapes, sizes and ages over 18.

If you are not one of these specific types
please do not attend the open call.
We are not seeking anyone that does not fit the above specifications. This means if you are not Asian or are not an extreme character type, you will not be seen at the open call. You can mail in a submission or drop off a photo at our office.

If you attended our first open casting call in December 2004, you need not attend. We are still working with those submissions. Please only attend if you have changed your look or your phone numbers and fit the specifications.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Introducing "The Lazy Gnome"...

Hey, my sister (a.k.a. THE RUNT) started a BLOG.

Actually, she asked me to help her start one (she's blonde), which meant that I got to have some fun before turning it over to her.

Anyway, she's really excited, so if you have a second check out The Lazy Gnome.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

We have a problem...

I was walking back to my bedroom.

Gypsy, my canine shadow, was at my heels (literately).

Someone had closed the door to my bedroom.

I didn't notice.

Neither did Gypsy.

I ran into the door.

Gypsy ran into me.

So, yeah. That was fun...

...and now Gypsy is afraid of my bedroom door.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Yeah. So, today has been kinda like this...

It happened really fast...
...One minute everything was great...
...And then I was overwhelmed.

Monday, July 18, 2005

Yes, this REALLY happened...

So, earlier today, the NON DOMINANT TWIN (NDT) was in my office. We were discussing the layout of a project that we are currently working on together.

It is important to note (or preface, if you prefer) the subsequent episode with the following facts and/or information:
1) Both the NDT and I were both extremely over-caffeinated this morning.
2) Just like all things that go up, we had to come down from our caffeine high. Consequently, after lunch we both...well...crashed. Hard (because there is no such thing as a "soft landing" when you are coming off a sugar and/or caffeine high).

Here is the situation that transpired:

ME: [Banging elbow on desk...] "Ouch!"

NDT: "[Looking concerned...] "Oh, no! Are you okay?"

ME: [In a small, pathetic voice...] "Yeah. I guess so."

NDT: "Poor thing!"

ME: [Trying to kiss my injured elbow...] "Why is it that you cannot kiss your own elbow?"

NDT: [Looking curiously at her own elbow...] "You cannot kiss your elbow?"

ME: [Trying harder to kiss my elbow...] "Apparently not. I think I read it somewhere. In one of those chain emails or something."

NDT: "That's so strange. Are you sure?"

[Approximately 30 seconds of silence pass while NDT and I are both are engaged in the act of attempting to kiss our respective elbows.]

NDT: [Still trying to kiss her elbow...] "Can you pop your shoulder out of joint? Then maybe you'd be able to reach it."

ME: "No, no. My shoulder never pops out of joint when I want it to. It only dislocates when it is very, very, when I am running or something."

NDT: "Oh, too bad."

[Long pause while we both continue to try to kiss our elbows.]

ME: [Now, trying energetically to lick my elbow...]

NDT: "Oh! Good idea...!" [Sticks out her tongue in an effort to lick her elbow.]

ME: "Well, at least I am a little closer..."

NDT: [Still trying to lick her elbow...] "Yeah, but I think you'd need a really long tongue to actually reach it."

ME: [Sounding dismayed...] "Alas. This is probably true."

[Long pause while we both consider "elbow kissing defeat"...]

ME: [Looking longingly at my elbow...] "Sigh..."

NDT: [Looking longingly at her elbow...] "Sigh..."

[NDT and I - simultaneously - realize what we have both BEEN doing.]

[NDT and I - simultaneously - realize how LONG we've both been engaged in trying (unsuccessfully) to kiss our elbows.]

[NDT and I - simultaneously - make eye contact (we are both still holding our elbows, by the way).]

[Both of us explode into laughter...]

Thank goodness that our boss (or anyone else, for that matter) didn't decide to walk past my office during this so-called incident. He might have called our intelligence in to question.

Which is so sad, because someone - not 48 hours ago - mentioned that he could tell that we were "intelligent" by our "witty banter".


"...and He taketh away."

They should put a warning label on all caffeinated products:
"May cause stupidity. Drink at own risk."

Friday, July 15, 2005

A tribute to a TRUE friend...

There was some discussion last week about what constitutes
TRUE friendship.

According to the Non Dominant Twin (NDT) a TRUE friend is someone, "who you can call at 3 AM and say, 'Okay. I need you to come over here right now, and bring your shovel'. If they are a TRUE friend then will be right over - shovel in hand. No questions asked".

However, after today, I beg to differ.

I think a TRUE friend is someone who gives up an hour and a half of their work day (not to mention life) to help their coworker-in-crisis attach last minute TEKS information to pre- and post- educational activities for every grade - Pre-Kindergarten on up through 8th.

In case you were wondering, this is not fun
(quite the opposite of fun, actually).

Okay, so maybe this isn't the definition of TRUE friendship, but the act of kindness and support was definitely appreciated.

So, NDT, in an effort to say THANK YOU,
I am posting this picture in your honor
(think of it as me bringing you a piece of your favorite candy
as a token of my heartfelt appreciation).

Thursday, July 14, 2005

A life less irritating...

So, about a month ago I started receiving phone calls from several subcontractors that provide educational programming and various special events at the museum where I work. The problem was that they had not been receiving my emails.

Actually, they hadn't been receiving my emails for quite awhile.

This was, of course, news to me. I send a ton of work-related emails out in a day, and - on a good 90% of them - I never get a response (unless I specifically ask for one or there is reason for follow up). Part of my job is to coordinate booking, so - when it comes to the subcontractors - I email updated schedules out approximately once or twice a week. Most of the time I don't hear anything back (unless there is a scheduling conflict, and then I generally get a phone call).

Luckily, this electronic glitch didn't cause any insurmountable problems, and all of the scheduled educational events were completely unaffected (Thank God).

However, this didn't change the fact that my computer still was seemingly picking and choosing which emails it was going to send out and which ones it...well...wasn't. For about a week there seemed to be absolutely no rhyme or reason to this, either.

And then it dawned on me.

My computer wasn't sending out any of my emails with attachments. Apparently, it was on strike or something.

So, I went to my coworker that is in charge of computer based issues and problems, and he promised that someone would be out to see about it soon.

Yet, "soon" apparently really meant that someone would be out to see about it in the next month or so (which, quite frankly, isn't soon. Tomorrow is soon. In a month or so is eventually).

Therefore, I spent the greater part of June hand delivering and/or snail mailing everything that should have gone out in an electronic attachment. This was, to say the least, very frustrating and meant that I spent a lot of extra time doing things that should have been done in a mere fraction of the time (not to mention effort).

Finally, during the last day of the last week in June, the computer guy shows up. We will call him...uh...Karl.

Karl comes into my office and asks me to explain the problem to him. So, I tell him about how my computer is apparently having problems getting emails with attachments to their final destinations. The emails are never returned to me, though, so I wasn't even aware of the problem for probably close to a month (which means that I cannot remember any event, server issue, etc. that could have precipitated the problem in the first place). According to my email provider, the messages that I am sending out are, indeed, SENT. On my end, there is no symptom of a problem. Yet, they are my messages and attachments that aren't ever reaching their final destination, and I find it hard to believe that the problem somehow lies with everyone else's inbox.

So, Karl sits down at my computer and opens my email program. He checks on a couple of things, and then clicks on the COMPOSE NEW MESSAGE button. Karl proceeds to send himself an email from my account. He then checks his watch and counts how many seconds it takes for the message to leave my outbox and arrive in his inbox.

Since I was standing there, I know it took 33 seconds.

The message he sent himself from my computer did not have an attachment. It didn't even have a subject, for that matter. I felt that - for sure - he was only conducting a simple test. A simple test that, of course, would only be one of the many that Karl would have to perform in an effort to diagnosis and fix the problem.

So, image my shock when he stood up and announced that my computer was fixed, and that I shouldn't have any more problems with it.

"Don't you want to send yourself a message with an attachment," I inquired?

"No need. It's working fine," He answered.

"But I can send emails. I've been sending emails. Just emails go through. Emails with attachments don't go through," I argued.

"Well, it seems to be working now," He said as he walked out of my office.

Later that day, my coworker came in and said, "So, Karl said he fixed your computer. That didn't take long, now did it?"

I thought seriously about throwing my stapler at him. But, of course, that would have been wrong. I managed to refrain from doing so. Somehow.

So, is it any wonder that at my meeting today I found out that no one had received a single email from me this week with an attachment? I honestly wasn't surprised.

I know you aren't either.

This whole scenario has really challenged me to rethink my future career goals and aspirations. Karl is very well paid for what he does (or doesn't do as the case may be). Most computer geeks are, I've discovered. Therefore, I'm seriously considering a quarter-life career change. I think I would like to become a computer geek, too. I'm relatively competent with computers, and I'm even better at not fixing things. This might just be the calling I've been waiting for all these years.

Yeah. So, I'm a little bitter, I guess...

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

The Runt...

So, the other day I am talking to THE RUNT (a.k.a. my vertically-challenged and very, very blonde little sister) and we have a conversation that goes something like this:

THE RUNT: "So, I have a date with this guy on Sunday."

ME: "Really. Is he cute?"

THE RUNT: "Yeah. I think so. He's a swimmer, and he's really tan."

ME: "Uh, okay. So, tan equals cute nowadays, huh?"

THE RUNT: "Well, sorta. He's not really tanned tan, but just tan. You understand, right?"

ME: "Uh, no."

THE RUNT: "What is it called when someone is naturally tan?"

ME: "Olive complected?"

THE RUNT: "No. More like Croatian."

ME: "Oh...okay."

THE RUNT: "Well, wait. What is "Croatian"?"

ME: "Someone from Croatia."

THE RUNT: "Where's that?"

ME: "Croatia."

THE RUNT: "Yeah, but where is that?"

ME: "The Eastern Block."

THE RUNT: "Okay. Nevermind. That's not it."

ME: "Why do you say that?"

THE RUNT: "Well, he isn't Indian or anything."


ME: " the Eastern Block isn't in India."


ME: "It was part of the former Soviet Union."


ME: "Essentially, Eastern Europe."

THE RUNT: "Oh, really?"

ME: "Yeah. Like the character, Luca, on ER."


THE RUNT: "Well, is he tan?"

Things that make you go hmmmm...

You know those people out there that - no matter how many times they meet you - cannot (to save their lives) remember your name?

Then maybe they figure out your first name, but make no effort at learning your last name?

So, at a large function, when they are standing up at a podium giving a speech, and they want to mention YOUR name they go (in front of 200 people), "and thanks to [your name]...[your name]...[your name]...wait, what's [your name]'s last name"?

Then, let's say you have to go to dinner with this person a couple of weeks later and all they call you by is your last name...?

What's up with that?!

This happened to me. Last night.

No kidding.

People like this really do exist.


Everyone should be afraid. Very afraid. INVASION OF THE BODYSNATCHERS kind of afriad.

Consider yourself warned...!

Monday, July 11, 2005

Jury Duty (well, sort of...)

Okay, so today was "Jury Duty Day". I got to skip work (because, we all know that there are no work related excuses for missing jury duty) armed with nothing more than a good book, a Cosmo (yes, I know. Cosmo is garbage, but sometimes reading trash is just so Stop judging me), and my jury summons.

I arrived promptly at 9:30 AM. I would have been earlier, but I forgot that parking downtown is...hmmmm...a challenge. It didn't matter, though, because I was on time regardless (and by "on time" I really mean that I wasn't the last juror to arrive. If you are into specifics then, YES! I was exactly 8 minutes late. Blame it on what happens next. Again with the judgments...!).

I was briefly slowed down by security. Even though I lived in DC for two years, it didn't dawn on me until I was standing in line that I would have to go through a metal detector. I definitely would have put more thought into my outfit if I had remembered that little tidbit of information. I had on pants that...uh...definitely required a belt. So, when I had to remove the belt my oh-so-cute-but-a-tad-baggy-because-I-bought-them-on-sale-and-they-didn't-have-my-size-so-I-bought-a-size-too-big-and-never-had-them-taken-in pants almost fell down. Despite my attempt to hide this fact, it still got a giggle from the security lady. I knew I should have worn jeans!

The only reason that I didn't wear jeans was because I watched 20 minutes of LAW AND ORDER: CRIMINAL INTENT the night before, and noticed that there was a definite lack of people on the crime/court drama wearing jeans (or t-shirts for that matter). This caused me to - at the last minute - reconsider my "jury duty outfit" (which was, in case you haven't guessed, a t-shirt and jeans). So, long story short, I decided to dress up. Well, dress up a little bit, at least. I wasn't going to the prom, after all.

I was going for "working casual" (wwhatever that means...!).

Anyway, it was all apparently for not. I saw a lot of people in jeans and t-shirts seated in the jury holding pen. They looked really comfortable. Damn.

So, it was around the time that I was attempting to put my belt back through the belt loops on my too-big-but-cute-pants that I suddenly realized I had left both my jury summons and my cell phone in the car (that I had finally parked in a garage two and a half blocks away from the Municipal Court, by the way). This, of course, meant that I had NO idea where to go (since the jury room number was printed on the stupid letter).

So, I did what any normal person would do: I started wondering mindlessly around the building. I know you think this is stupid, but there is SO much method in this particular madness. Case in point: there are tiny, post-it sized notes posted randomly placed around the courthouse. If you find a pink one and follow it to another pink one - you will eventually be lead to the jury holding pen. I thought of it like "going on a treasure hunt. 'X' marks the spot". It was almost fun (in a not-so-much-fun kind of way).

Anyway, I walked into the jury waiting room and checked in with the officer at the table (who, of course, asked for my jury summons that I didn't have). This took awhile, because he - for reasons unknown to me - kept thinking that my name was Karen (which it is not). However, it didn't seem to matter how many times I told him my name wasn't "Karen", because he just kept scanning the list looking for a "Karen" anyway. This might have been comical if it wasn't so frustrating.

Once we worked that little problem out (and by that I really mean: "convinced him of my non-Karen status"), I turned to look for an empty chair (of which there were none). So, I finally began the process of...well...waiting standing up. Great. This was turning out to be a great day.

So, about half an hour goes by and then this official looking woman enters the room and swears us all in. I couldn't help but notice that the lady directly in front of me held up her left hand instead of her right. I kept looking around the room to see if anyone else noticed it, too (I don't think anyone did). It crossed my mind to point her out (because I was sure that raising the wrong hand was somehow analogous to crossing your fingers when you promise). However, before I could do this, the swearing in process was over. We were all instructed to put on our "official jury badges" and to make ourselves comfortable. The official looking woman told us that we would know by lunchtime whether or not our services would be required.

Then the official looking woman...just...left.

It was just me, the bailiff and about 80 strangers.

So, I sat down on the floor (remember that there were no extra chairs) and started to read my book. I was actually quite comfortable on the floor, but the bailiff was upset that I didn't have a chair (even though I wasn't). He (bless his heart) went down the hall and found an extra chair and brought it back for me. However, his efforts were in vein because by the time he got back eight jurors (that were late) finally showed up. Poor guy. He had to swear them in one at a time.

In case you were curious, though, I never did get the chair. However, the bailiff was such a sweet guy (in a grandfatherly kind of way) that I really - honestly - didn't mind. I figured that it was just one of those cases where "it's the thought that counts". Cliche, I know, but - hey - it's all good.

Anyway, continuing on, there was a TV set up in front of the room, and around 10:30 AM this lady decided to turn it on. Judge Judy was just coming on (lucky me). This was followed by another episode of Judge Judy at 11, and "The Texas Judge" at 11:30.

Just in case you don't know me, I hate reality court shows. But you know what I hate more than reality court shows?...I HATE watching court shows while I'm waiting to go into a courtroom!! Why - for the love of God - did we have to watch bad court TV? We were there for JURY DUTY!! JURY. DUTY. Wait an hour and you won't have to watch court TV because you'll be in the freakin' courtroom!

So, I kinda felt like I was going to lose it by the time "The Texas Judge" had finally gotten around to making his ruling. And, I mean I really almost lost it. Thank goodness that the official looking woman came back in and (God love her) turned off the TV.

"Good afternoon," the official looking woman announced (there was an audible moan from several potential jurors when she clicked off "The Texas Judge"). "I'm sure you are all wondering why nothing has happened yet. Well, we are still waiting to hear back from all of the courts, but - don't worry - it shouldn't be much longer.

In the mean time, I need to make everyone in this room aware of something very, very important. The letter that you received summoning you for jury duty here today is very hard to understand. We are currently in the process of rewriting it, and we are very sorry for the confusion. The draft of the letter that you all received had a very important piece of information left off by accident. There are actually FOUR reasons why a juror may be disqualified for service in the City of Dallas, but only THREE are printed on your jury summons.

You can also be disqualified from jury duty if you do NOT live permanently in the City of Dallas. This is very confusing to a lot of people, because on the jury summons it clearly states 'Dallas County' several times. Dallas County is much, much larger than the City of Dallas. However, because the letter says 'Dallas County' instead of 'The City of Dallas' we tend to have a lot of people show up for jury duty that are, in fact, ineligible to serve in the City of Dallas.

So, if you live in the Park Cities, for example, you are not qualified to sit on a jury in the City of Dallas. The Park Cities have their own separate municipalities. Therefore, if you live anywhere other than the City of Dallas, I must ask you to leave at this time".

I am not even kidding when I tell you that half of the freakin' room got up at this point and started to file out of the room. One lady in particular (she was wearing a large silver bracelet with huge turquoise beads on it) was absolutely livid that she had, "sat around for the better part of three hours for nothing". She marched up to the official looking woman and gave her a very, very stern talking to. From what I heard, the turquoise bracelet lady didn't mind doing her civic duty, but she felt misled that the official looking woman did not inform her of her disqualification from the start (say, uh, when she was...I don't know...SWEARING US IN)!

Quite frankly, I agreed with the turquoise bracelet lady. But, I didn't care enough to say anything (it was one of the very few times that I've actually been excited about having a Highland Park address on my drivers license). Plus, I was much more concerned about getting the heck out of there and enjoying the remainder of my day off.

The officer who had originally signed me in when I arrived (not to be confused with the sweet bailiff who...uh...almost brought me a chair) got to sign me out as well. He asked me if I needed an excuse for work, and I figured "hey, why not"?

So, yeah, he totally made my excuse out for "Karen". I didn't bother to correct him, though. I think I was secretly impressed with his consistency...

Thus concludes my jury duty experience. I know you are all impressed. I think that I'll stick with my original assertion that the City of Dallas is - at the very least - "special".