Laurie Perry's Blog, page 18

Not even really sure what day it is, but mark it in the calendar as the day I found the box of undies.

Yeah. That's what I'm talking about. An unmarked box of panties at the very bottom of a nine-foot-tall stack of boxes. Conquered it. Now I can stop visiting the laundromat every other day, which was beginning to look and feel more like home than my own apartment.

Next time I move the code word for the underwear box is ramekins. I'm writing this here for the world to see but am certain the moving guys don't read this diary. We're good to go.

- - -

REAL LIFE THINGS

Don't forget the two fun memoir-and-rap-songs panels I'll be on this weekend. (In the brochures, simply called "Memoir Writing Panel." I have my own ideas.)

Essentially what we have here is a group of real authors who talk about the serious art of memoir writing and also there is me, for what I assume is comic relief and/or the diversity card. My only real goal is to have some much-needed fun at both events and use as many bad 1980s rap song references as possible BUT in a way that makes me appear to be a serious writer. Can I pull it off? WE SHALL SEE.

Friday, April 8, 2011 at 2:45 PM

Memoir Panel Discussion

RT Booklovers Convention

The Westin Bonaventure Hotel

404 South Figueroa Street

Los Angeles, CA 90071

[ view a map ]

BUT IF THAT WERE NOT ENOUGH!

Literary Orange Saturday, April 9, 2011

My panel is at 1 p.m.

Memoirs: The Human Comedy

UC Irvine Student Center

A311 Student Center

Irvine, CA 92697-2050

[ view a map ]

When it comes to crafting a memoir, one must always check themselves before they wreck themselves and their craft. SUCCESS IS MINE.

Therapy Session

Me: So, right. I have two events back-to-back this week and one of them is a signing, on Saturday. And my hands are ... like ... kind of raw. From, uh, you know, the hand washing. Like lots of hand washing. I'm really doing the hand washing. And I want my nails to look pretty but I'm doing some crazy right now.

Shrink: Would you say it's more than the usual hand washing?

Me: Like more than the tenth power of unhinged. Yes. More hand washing.

Shrink: What are you thinking when you're washing your hands?

Me: Uh. Huh?

Shrink: If you can put a voice to your anxiety it will help. What are you anxious about?

Me: How long is our session? Cause I got everything from radiation cloud to money to pizza in the closet.

Shrink: Can say out loud the anxious thought as you go to wash your hands compulsively?

Me: That depends.

Shrink: That depends on what?

Me: CAN I STILL WASH MY HANDS ANYWAY

Shrink: Uh, yes. Sure.

Me: OK. I'm down with verbalizing. As long as I can still wash my hands.

Shrink: How are you on moisturizer?

Miracle cat leaves closet, paparazzi catch first glimpse.

Spotted near the corner of Cat Tree Ave. and Box Lane.

- - -

HEY HEY HEY!

I will be at the RT Booklover's Convention on Friday at 2:45 p.m. for a memoir panel with author and friend Rachael Herron. Actually the convention people keep sending me bills, so I am assuming I will be there but if not it's because they no longer offer the "Little Match Girl" discount rate.

Date: Friday, April 8, 2011 at 2:45 PM

Topic: Memoir Panel Discussion

Where:

The Westin Bonaventure Hotel

404 South Figueroa Street

Los Angeles, CA 90071

[ view a map ]

BUT IF THAT WERE NOT ENOUGH!

On Saturday I'm going to be at Literary Orange, which is exciting because it's Orange, people. Orange is my color. And I think some of the cool ladies from San Juan Capistrano will be there. There may be knitting.

Today is your last day to register online (after that you can register the day of the event.)

Date: Saturday, April 9, 2011 (My panel is at 1 p.m.)

Topic: Memoir, possibly also 1980s rap lyrics

Where:

UC Irvine Student Center

A311 Student Center

Irvine, CA 92697-2050

[ view a map ]

And you know my hands will be washed and ready to shake yours. See you there!

Nemesis DISCOVERED

iPhone pics from the week

Have you just about switched completely from your digital camera to your phone camera? My phone cam doesn't take pictures as crisply and beautifully as my camera, but it's awfully convenient!

The line at the DMV, out the building and around the corner. It was a pretty day, though, I got a tan:

One small corner of Box City:

You know, even when they are perched atop chaos those original Burke star-based chairs look awesome:

Here's a cool car I saw in a parking garage this week, it was in pristine condition:

The original California woody. Love:

Here is how an OCD person puts down shelf paper:

(If I do say so myself I kind of rule the world of contact paper. First, clean your surface and if you are a germaphobe, disinfect it well. Let air dry. Next, cover every available surface with contact paper to seal out the germs of the previous tenants. AWESOME with a cold glass of pinot grigio served in a red plastic cup. Contact paper from Target, under $6. Feeling cleansed and in control of one single cabinet: priceless.)

And finally, the Soba in the new sitting spot:

Dear Universe, this note is for you.

At heart I am a nester.

If you follow astrology -- don't worry, you can keep it a secret -- you might find it illuminating to know I'm a Cancer with Cancer rising. In astrological terms that means I am a homebody with hermit rising. All I ever wanted was a childhood home, a place to come back to, a base.

Instead I am from a nomadic tribe who moved every time the wind changed. You know why I can pack up and move a hugeass household in three days? Because this is not the first time I've done it.

But until this move, which has been chaotic and stressful and frankly kind of traumatizing, I didn't realize how much time and energy I spend thinking and fantasizing about my eventual "home." I've never had a home. I didn't grow up in one childhood house, I moved three times a year until college. I lived in every state south of Kentucky at least twice. Los Angeles is my home because I chose it, and I have lived here longer than any other one place in my entire life. I desperately tried to keep the confines of my L.A. life small -- Woodland Hills to North Hollywood -- but even so I still seem to move like a gypsy. I have been here 16 years and lived in TEN DIFFERENT PLACES. What the fuck, people. Who does that? I never wanted it. All I ever wanted was to be a kid with roots.

This week I have accepted that's never going to happen for me. My roots are in my head. That's the best I got.

All this time I fantasized about my eventual home base, I decorated it in my head, I believed in it. I wanted it so badly. I could picture myself making coffee in that kitchen, hanging my clothes in the closet, cleaning the kitchen sink. I have fought against every single move kicking and screaming. I hate moving and hate being uprooted. All I wanted was to plant ass-roots into a couch and have some comfort zone. Even as a small child I hated the feeling of packing a box, loading it into the Pinto and hauling it to some new place. I just wanted to stay put.

That is apparently not the Universe's plan for me. So I give it up. I'm done with it. I surrender. DONE. Give up! Give up!

I give up. Not the pathetic and sad kind of giving up but the surrender give up. I surrender, Universe. I release control. I never had any real control so the illusion was just that, an illusion, and I give it up. I'm done! Finished! Finito! Au Revoir!

I have no idea at all what my future holds. No idea where I will live tomorrow. And I am going to decide right now to be OK with that. It's not an easy decision. I'm committed to it, though. I may have to re-decide every five minutes to surrender and I will do it, I give the hell up. Screw it. I'm done. I give it up to the Universe.

This time last week I had no idea I would have to pack up and move under cover of darkeness. And people, I am not a simple living kind of gal, I have a whole household of stuff, it took two trips on the moving truck and 17-hour days of packing to get it done. For people like me who are true control enthusiasts the hardest part of living is realizing how much -- almost everything -- is out of our control. But almost everything is uncontrollable! Why do you think I wash my hands so much? Why do I arrange the spoons just so? Because control is an illusion, a dream, a mirage. Sometimes in a single day the only thing at all I control are those damn spoons. Releasing control feels like losing but maybe it's the only way to be. Release. Give it up. Relax the fuck out.

Sorry for the cussing. I am in a cussing frame of mind right now.

To give up totally, to surrender absolutely to the whims of the grody and whacked-out universe, is all I can do. I'm done with attempting to control the uncontrollable. It hasn't worked. The only way to survive is to adapt, right? So this is my adapting with foul language.

All I can do is change, adapt, streamline. I am going to downsize by half. HALF. Half of all clothes, all shoes, all books, all kitchen stuff. Donate, sell, give away. Live more simply. I can't do another move like this ever and I won't. It seems obscene to say this while knowing someone else is in Japan with a whole house washed away. I have no idea why the "it could be worse..." line of reasoning never works with me. People always say, "It could be worse!" and that has never once worked. Maybe I am just a douche rocket. But I am not actually sure I can suffer enough to help someone else. Or suffer enough to make someone else better. Everyone has their stuff, and always someone else somewhere suffers more. Does that make your crap less hard for you? Kind of not even able to answer this question. Thinking maybe now is not the time to tackle this dilemma.

So I surrender. I surrender the idea of control. That's all I can do. I know I'm not fragile but I feel fragile today. It's not easy to move, have legal and police and scary stuff, relocate surreptitiously, and also give up a lifelong dream to have one single home base. All in under a week! Most people have a home, right? Most people at least had a childhood home. I don't have that, but I do have this city. When things were freaky and I was alone I knew all about this city, my Los Angeles. I knew where to find an apartment and who to call for a truck and where to locate the good tacos. Everything changed in a day, but the city was still here.

People wonder why I live here, why I love it. It's the closest thing I ever had to a home. In Los Angeles there will always be things you can count on: a long line at the DMV, traffic on the 405, the sun coming out, people honking, fresh oranges sold off the back of a truck, a 7-11 nearby.

And that 7-11 will sell wine.

I pity the April fool!

I don't actually have anything to say, but I have been waiting all year to break out my Mr. T voice and say that line, so there you go. I pity the April Fool!!!

Also, SO MUTHAEFFING HAPPY that March is over.

Happy Birthday, Al Gore

Dear Al Gore,

Happy 63rd birthday! If we go by the Official Law Of Dating Ages, whereby one can date anyone who is at least half your age plus eight, I am inside the safety zone so we can go out. Tomorrow! Call me!

Love,

Laurie

P.S. I just bought a new catalytic converter for the Jeep so it could pass the California emissions test. And GUESS WHAT! Today when I got the (hot, sexy, RED) Jeep re-tested my studmobile not only passed smog testing but its emissions had also fallen below the state averages. I believe I am practically producing pure oxygen from the tailpipe of that sexy little ride. Just think it through. We could be so good together.

P.P.S. Plus I am already completely packed up and could move again, like tomorrow. Love!

Notes From Box City

1) When packing, I decided to take all my underwear out of the dresser and put it in a box just in case the dresser flew open or something. Even in my panic to move I knew I didn't want the moving guys seeing my panties splayed out all over the place. But I didn't have a code word for "panties box" so it was left unmarked and now I can't find it in the pile.

2) At 6 a.m. this morning I bought panties at Rite-Aid. My basket contained a bottle of wine, two packs of panties, six cans of fancy feast (so fancy!) and a large bottle of Advil.

3) My new generic apartment building seems to be populated entirely by dudes. I'm relieved. Not because I want to get friendly with them but because dudes of the Los Angeles actor/screenwriter/waiter type are fairly low on the drama scale. I hope.

4) It's like 85 degrees here today all-the-sudden. Did I move to summer? Awesome!

5) Bob is still hiding in the closet.

6) I missed Castle because of course I was in transit but then I remembered I could just catch up online. It made me think of the time before TV was online and before the DVR and how upset I was to miss the season opener of Felicity when we all found out if she picked Ben or Noel. On that day I was out of town. Honestly, I remember being deeply worried about who she would pick and could never have forseen that she would CUT HER HAIR. The insanity!!

Anyway, I tried to set the VCR to record Felicity before I went out of town but of course I ended up recording something else, like Sesame Street or something, and I was bereft. Bereft! I was working at a studio back then so I called everyone I knew and people I didn't know to get a show tape and finally a friend over at Univision sent me a pity tape but it was in Spanish and I was still SO HAPPY. But sad, too, because the hair! The hair!

Now I can just go online at watch TV. It is kind of amazing this innernets that Al Gore created. I love you, Al. I've got wine, call when you can.

- - -

That's all I've got today. I know you want the juicy details of Whatever Happened With Baby Jane but I can't really talk about all of it. One day it will make a good story. I will be interested to see how far away that day is. As for me, I am not in the closet along with Bob so that is a good sign, although I did cry in the shower and eat peanut butter straight from the jar BUT I did not do those two activities simultaneously so I am pretty sure all these months of therapy have helped turn me into a person who can at least separate out her pity parties. PROGRESS! I'll take it.

Thank you for all the good vibes, I needed that. Thank you!

People say I'm the life of the party 'cause I tell a joke or two

HI. I MOVED.

IN THREE DAYS.

You know what's awesome? What's awesome is having to find a new apartment for you and your herd of felines in Los Angeles and pack up your whole household and move in three days. It is not at all dull. Also, it burns so many calories.

My name is Laurie and I am about to have some wine. At 10 a.m. In my new home. Where I just moved. Today. (Of course I have no internet or power or anything so I will go to a coffee shop to post this, or maybe the sushi place on the corner, I don't know, I just moved here. Help me.)

There is a whole lot of repressed dramatic going on, and I am sure one day it will bubble up and I will find myself alone in the closet with a large pepperoni pizza. OK, not the closet. Because that is gross. But you understand what I am saying here.

SO WHAT HAPPENED WAS...

My next door neighbor had a psychotic break. I'm not actually a doctor (even though I play one on TV) but I feel that term best describes what happened at The Place Where I Once Lived yesterday. I'm not sure if it was drug-induced or if she went off her medication or if Elvis speaks to her. All I know is that I had to bolt. I can't tell you too many of the details, but I think "psychotic break" sums it up.

So in what will go down in history as the most expensive few days of my life, I fled the scene in a flurry of self-preservation. There wasn't much choice, and that part is awful, also I will be eating ramen noodles for the next six years. In the same time period there was family stuff and also there was car stuff, neither of which has been resolved, and I think one of the cats is sick, and we have an appointment because all scary and expensive things must happen in the same week as predetermined by the Universe and its absurd sense of humor. But now I live somewhere else NOT SPECIFIED and it has a security system and what is most important is that I am alive to tell you this story. I'm not sure what my beyond-the-grave internet access would look like anyway.

In the midst of all this I remember telling myself to be thankful because even though this situation is ridiculously stressful and expensive it is not a tsunami or nuclear contamination zone or similar. But being forced out of your home by a psychotic person kind of sucks. So I am just going to table any moral qualms I have about my emotions and watch for the pizza man.

There you have it, the one-act dramatic play of March, 2011, presented in six acts. Now, intermission!

- - -

In a not-entirely-unrelated subject, I would like to take this opportunity to tell you about Blogads. I've never really been good at shilling or shucking or whatever it is (oh! I think "begging" may be the word!) but I do have links for advertising spaces on the sidebar over there --->

And if you have a business or even if you just want to advertise your blog for a week, I have dropped all the prices on my ads so they are delicious and affordable. It's very easy to purchase a blogad, all you have to do is point-and-click, there are premium ads (at the top of the sidebar) and there are classic ads which appear in the middle of the sidebar but are way cheaper (as low as $25 for a week!) and then there are the new ad squares, the most affordable of all, which cost only $5 a day. You can upload and submit your ad in no time at all.

And if you don't have any need for a blogad, there is still one awesome thing you can do. When you see an ad on the sidebar, give it a click! I do not get paid per click but your interest helps the advertisers know their ad is being seen and clicked upon (and hopefully it encourages them to advertise more.)

- - -

At this point in the column I feel like I should say, "And now back to your regularly scheduled programming." But in a low, 1960s TV-announcer voice.

- - -

Before today's program concludes I want to leave you with one funny image, like they used to do on "Hee Haw." Because what is the point of living your life if you can't find something to laugh at like the heyday of Hee Haw? Honestly!

THIS BOX IS ALREADY OCCUPIED. MOVE ALONG.