But it's a really good paying job. Honest.

And this is what happens when a group of us have time after class to make something sexy. One student always loses his shirt when things get creative. It's a process.

Yup. This Was Made. Get Over It.

Welcome To The World. Again.

Whelp, I moved and I FINALLY just got my internet hooked up.

Perhaps I'll properly update tomorrow a controversial topic.

You know, to spice things up a bit.

Just Double Fisting Homeless People

Right now I am sitting in this moving limbo waiting for my new landlord to call us and say "Hey, I've got those keys that you need to open the door to your new place so you can start moving in." but, you know, he hasn't called us yet because I'm pretty sure he's in some dark alley double fisting homeless guys for some quick cash because he's a real estate agent and they have to keep their families fed somehow in this housing slump. Is there a housing slump? I have no clue.

He probably just likes double fisting for free. Keeps his hands warms on cold nights.

I'm currently living in a maze and castle of boxes filled with my things that I can't really do anything with but build protective walls that keep my asshole dog out.

I'm not good at this waiting patiently thing.

It's Not My Fault You're The Least Loved Child

I'm starting to notice that I treat this blog like a red-headed step-child that I just can't shake. It sits in the corner, in the dark, starring at me with it's large eyes and freckles glowing softly as the light of a passing car shines on it's face. It just sits and waits for you to look over and make eye contact because when you make eye contact you are forced to sit for hours listening to it go on and on about it's stamp collection and how no one likes it and how it's still a virgin and plans to change it through wacky antics at prom that wont work out because it's a red-headed step-child no one will fuck.

But then I start to feel guilty that I'm leaving this red-headed step-child alone in the dark with no one to talk too but I get easily distracted by shiny things and I'm like "Oh, hey, IS THAT A BIKE?" and then I run outside with my arms flailing and forget about the neglected child no one likes.

Then I start to feel OK with my neglect because, you know, I'm just lazy and caring about neglect just seems like a lot of work.

You know?

Soooooooo much work.

So I'm going to promise to try harder and not neglect and listen to the stories about your stamp collect.....

Oh fuck, is that a bike?

Just Period All Over The Place. Because I'm A Girl.

It's almost official, I've survived my first three months of Film School. I may have made a Porn commercial and a commercial selling freelance suicide bombers, but I survived.

Apperantly I'm pretty awesome at Film School. Like, I'm so awesome at it I'm pretty sure I've made people jealous with said awesomeness. Or maybe I'm just stupidly full of myself and people have just been telling me that I'm awesome to ensure that I don't start hysterically crying all over the place and spontaneously bleeding because I'm the only girl in this semester of school.

I'm going to be the only girl in this course for the next eighteen months. So, that's something.

After these next few classes, I'll be preoccupied with moving to a new joint that is officially heroin user free but according to the landlord the tenant above us is "Like, super gay. Super, SUPER gay." and I'm like "That's awesome, I'm either going to have a fabulous gay best friend in the upstairs above or the most fabulous enemy neighbor ever."

And then once we're moved, I'm going to be start rolling out some web series with a few of my fellow film students because that's what we do. We make things. Mostly offensive things. But we make things.

So, maybe, watch out for that.

Oh, and I'll blog more.

Yeah, that too.

I Paid This Much & All I Got Was This Stinky Movie Poster