Happy Day of Birth, Felicia Day!

How can you not love her?!?!?!
FeliciaDay.com

If you read my blog with any regularity, you already know I'm a fan of Felicia Day. So in the non-creepiest way possible, I bring you a poem or two:

Happy Birthday Haikus

Thirty-three years 'go

our nerdly queen was birth-ed

thank you to the Days.



A rising star shone

brightly over all geekdom

Codex be prais-ed.

Penny's lovely songs

melted a horrible heart

and tugged at our own.

Smarter than I be

math music geek and sundry

a birthday happy.

Alright, I'm not a super poet, but it's the heart behind it that counts. Right? Yes, I'm going with that answer.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY FELICIA!



FeliciaDay.com

My Shit-hole Apartment (Part 2)

 So, remember a few times when I talked about my past apartment-living nightmares? Well, the other night after killing so many roaches in my kitchen that I lost count, I decided that it's story time again on my blog to-if nothing else-remind myself that it can always be (and has been) worse. So here we go...

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Living Away From Home Year 2

Off Campus

(The House From Hell)

Looking back, dorm life was not the worst thing in the world. Sure, it was challenging at times and I lost all semblance of privacy, but overall knowing what I know now, it wasn't a nightmare. However, at the time I was 19 and young and naive and a little wreckless and thought I knew everything, and by second semester of my freshman year, I had had enough of dorm life. So, my roommate, Jessica and I decided we liked each other well enough to live together off campus for our sophomore year. We were big kids now. We found a house that was off campus but still close enough that the walk didn't suck too much. There was precious little parking available on campus, and what little parking was available you had to pay out the wazoo to use, so short walking distance was optimal.  The house we found was an 1100 Square foot quaint 1900's house with laundry, and a dishwasher. It was perfect.


What the house looked like when we pictured it
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 The downside to this great little house we found? It was a 6 bedroom house and it was just me and Roommate Jessica, so we needed to find 4 more people to live with us to afford it. To make a long story short, we did end up with 4 other roommates, and before that sophomore year was up we would vow to never have roommates again. Other than myself I had a unique cast of characters I called housemates:
-Roommate Jessica: We were randomly paired together freshman year in the dorm and decided we didn't want to kill each other while sharing a room, so sharing a house should be fine, right?
-Brian: You may remember him from my first post on Harvest Moon.
-The Imp: I do not believe I have spoken of The Imp up to this point. There is a reason. The Imp and I dated for about a year and it was bad news bears. We dare not speak his true name.
-Diva: I think the nickname I give her here implies it all, but let's just say we did not part on good terms either.
-Fucking Joe: Brian's friend, and the most spoiled, foul-smelling, inconsiderate prick I have ever had the misfortune of sharing space with.
Shannon: Brian's then-girlfriend's older sister. She was pretty awesome. (You may notice that I have listed more than 5 housemates here. Shannon replaced The Imp when he broke my heart and moved out in the middle of the year. Ass. But I digress...)

What the house actually looked like
Google maps

Life started off simply enough; everyone had hand-me-down furniture and dishes and the like to furnish the house with; my mom was nice enough to take me shopping for cleaning supplies and neccesities-food, toiletries, etc. Even though I know my mom was not happy about my decision to live in the house, especially with my then-boyfriend, The Imp.  But she went along with it since she wasn't paying my bills and The Imp and I had seperate bedrooms. As you can probably guess, 3 girls living with 3 guys in a  house started to get a little messy.

Now, we've all had a roommate or two in the past who failed to clean up after themselves and it's annoying.  Well multiply that by 4 and that was this house. Brian (the only ex-rommie whom I still actually speak to) made messes just to piss me off.  Literally. He would create a mess and leave it in front of my bedroom door or somewhere else I would definitely find it as a lark.  He was perfectly capable of cleaning and very good at cleaning when he chose to do so, but he thought seeing me angry was more fun. Apparently I'm hilarious when I'm angry.

I'm this intimidating when I'm mad.
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The Imp was a poor housekeeper and a stinky boy who never learned useful skills from his crap parents. The Diva had everything handed to her because she was pretty and talented enough, so she never contributed to the cleanliness of the house either. Then, there was Fucking Joe. To call Fucking Joe a slovenly pig would be an insult to piggies everywhere.

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I could dedicate an entire blog to the awfulness that was the experience living with Fucking Joe and update it once a day for a year and probably still have stories left over to add.  Fucking Joe's worst offense on top of his inability to be responsible for the simplist of tasks (seriously, I'm suprised his mommy didn't drive him to class every day) was his passive aggressive way of blaming me for all of his problems and unhappiness.  If you were to track down Fucking Joe today and ask him about me, I'm sure he would spout off some evil hateful tripe about me. Now, that dude held a grudge. In fact, it may sound like I hold a grudge after all these years, but I don't. Really. I actually don't even remember Fucking Joe's last name. Maybe if I sat and pondered long enough* I would, but I have better things to do. Short-story-long: he and I didn't mesh well.

So, why was this the "House From Hell" you may ask? Was it the obnoxiousness that was Fucking Joe and his slovenly disregard for anyone else or their belongings? Was it Brian's playfull whimsical personality that made him behave like a 12-year old at times? Was it the Diva's better-than-everyone attitude? Was it Roommate Jessica's passive-aggressive way of handling conflict? Was it The Imp's decision to break up with me but keep living in the house for 2 months afterwards? Was it the fact that I was experiencing severe depression, anxiety, and self-esteem issues and not being properly treated for them?

Yes.

I just listed the ingredients for a miserable year; just mix together, stir, then simmer until explosion.  Now, I will say this about the situation: it helped me learn a lot about myself, and it turned me on to a new obsession: ferrets. Three days before The Imp called it quitsies between us, I bought myself a friend. Her name was Gigit, (like the Sally Field TV show) and she was one of the best pets I've ever had.


Gigit the ferret

I could go on and on with the stories of this house. I could tell about the time Brian spray-painted a tree because he was bored. I could tell about the endless sea of Fucking Joe's Big Gulp cups I waded through daily in our living room. Or about Brian's sugar gliders that kept me awake at night. Or when Roommate Jessica got fed up with dirty dishes and hoarded all of her kitchen-ware in her bedroom. Or the toilet that would clog once a week. Or the time I accidentally put dish soap into the dishwasher and flooded the kitchen. Or how I was stuck scrubbing the Diva's tap shoe scuffs off of the kitchen floor for 3 hours on our move-out day so we could get our security deposit back. I could talk about all that, and I could get mad about it, but I won't.

I choose to look back on all of it and say, "Oh yeah, that sucked a little didn't it?" and then I choose to laugh. I laugh because it's ridiculous.  I laugh because it's the past and it can't hurt me now. I laugh because we also had good times in the "House From Hell." Like, the Slumber Party Diva hosted. Or the time Brian Jerry-rigged the TV and the Gamecube so we could sit outside on the porch swing and play. Or all of the Friends marathons Roommate Jessica and I would have. Or all the stories that Shannon (The Imp's replacement on the lease) regailed us with stories of her trips abroad. Or finally accepting that The Imp being out of my life was for the best, and I could begin to heal. Or all the love I found and fun I had with my three ferrets (shortly after Gigit, I got her two friends.) Or that one time with Fucking Joe when we...um...yeah, sorry, I don't have any pleasent memories of Fucking Joe. Maybe that's why I still call him Fucking Joe.

So, the moral of the story is: there will always be a light in the darkness, but sometimes you have to find it, and sometimes, you have to make it.

I miss you every day, my furbabies.

Addendum:
*Nope. I pondered here and there over the course of a few days and couldn't remember. Then, I stumbled across him on Brian's Facebook page and never in 1,000 years would I have remembered Fucking Joe's real last name. But now I can't forget it. Dammit. Damn my curious eyes!

The Joys of Travel: or When Sanity Goes Out the Window

Last week was not the best time to decide to forget my anti-anxiety drugs. I saw my therapist a couple of days early due to an eminent vacation down south for a wedding. She told me I seemed calmer and more relaxed and that I seem to be improving mentally and attitude-wise. Yay me! So whether it was hubris or just plain ol' forgetfulness that I did not bring my anti-anxiety drugs with me on this 5-day trip, I know not, but I do know I won't forget again.  Not even the distraction/entertainment of my 3DS or the zen of playing Harvest Moon could keep me from feeling all stabby and wanting to claw my own eyes out while my heart exploded in my chest whilst on the plane. I needed modern pharmaceuticals, and have them I did not.

 If you've read my blog before, you know that I'm a little anxious and maybe, what some would call neurotic, and I will admit that I am very stubborn sometimes, but I'm far from being a control freak or a "Type-A" personality. In fact, just to make sure, I took a Type-A personality test. That's not Type-A-personality-like at all, right?
Here are my results:

See? Not Type-A, just impatient and irritable. Totally better.

I've shared this, to make a point that I'm normally a nice easy-going person, but I do like plans and lists, especially when traveling. Boyfriend, on the other hand is super easy-going and while he likes to also have an idea of an outline of a plan, he can be a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of guy a lot of times, especially when traveling, which kind of makes me bonkers. But, my therapist said I was improving and has said on many occasions that the ways Boyfriend's attitude towards a lot of things differs from my own can help me stay balanced if I let it and not fight it. So on this trip, my goal was to try to be less "listy" like I usually am and more "pantsy" like Boyfriend...I guess.

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This goal went out the window when we got to the airport and I realized I had forgotten to bring my anti-anxiety pills. I wasn't planning on needing them, but they were like a security blanket: they could be there if I needed them. However, knowing that the pills were no longer within my reach, I started to get all anxious about the possibility of needing them but not having them. I tried to tell myself that I didn't need them and I would be fine without them, and I almost believed myself. Then we boarded the plane. Correction: then we boarded a shuttle bus that would drive us across the tarmac so we could board the TINIEST PLANE I HAD EVER BEEN ON!!! The only way I could have been more uncomfortable on the tiny plane was if instead of a plane, it was an elevator flying through the sky. (And we know how I feel about elevators.) I still tried to talk myself out of my anxiety while sitting in my seat. I told myself, "I will sleep and when I wake up we will be there, it's a short flight, so it's a small plane, it's fine," etc. I had almost found a zen place in my brain when up the aisle waltz a lady and her two small children. Sorry. Did I say "children" I meant to say banshee devils. And lo and behold, they plop down right behind us. Well-played, universe.

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Now, I'm not a parent. I don't begrudge people with children in public-they need to go places too. Boyfriend has a little niece and a brand new nephew and so, by default, I have a niece and nephew, and we adore them. However, when other people's children act like banshee devils and the so-called parents do nothing to at least deter the poor behavior, I have issues. Babies cry, I know that. I'm the oldest of 4 children and there is a 17-year age gap between me and my youngest sibling; I've changed my fair share of diapers and coddled my fair share of screaming babies. But, these two banshee devils sitting behind me on this plane were old enough to know better. I tried so hard to feel sorry for their mom, I'm sure traveling alone with 2 small kids is hard and stressful, but this woman clearly had no control over these little kids. Needless to say, my zen feeling dissipated amongst the screams and squeals of the banshee devils. They weren't sad or hungry or anything, they were just yelling for the sake of yelling. Because it was fun. Once we got airborne, (which also took forever, because the universe was taunting me) not even my iPod and 3DS could drown out the obnoxious yelling behind me. I won't continue to harp on this, but I will say that my mother-a woman who had to travel alone with 2 young children often enough and who is a patient person and only spanked us once in our lives-would have smacked us across the face for behaving the way the banshee devils did on this tiny-ass plane.

Alas, my tiny plane adventure was not as awesome.
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I kept it together until we landed, but while waiting to be picked up from the airport, I asked Boyfriend a series of questions about the logistics of our trip that he did not have answers to, and I had a meltdown. Right there in the airport terminal. The fatigue, and the fear, and the frustration took over and I just cried and cried. It was ridiculous. I managed to pull myself together by the time our ride got there to pick us up, but I felt like a giant mess. After we got settled at our friends' apartment and we filled me full of good greasy Southern food, I felt a lot better.


What? No. We can't stop here. This is fat country.
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The moral of this story? Never forget your meds, but Cook Out and Maxie B's make everything better. So much better, that I didn't even get all that stressed out on the return flight which was more of a comedy of errors than a house of horrors. But that's another story...

No, Your Retinas are Not Falling Out

I'm making some template and layout changes to the blog again. Sorry if your eyeballs are all hurty or the blog doesn't load right while this is happening.



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Dear USA Today, Please Stop Trying to Report on the Gaming Industry Like You Know What You're Talking About

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In the Money section of USA Today on Sunday June 10th, the cover story was "The Changing State of Gaming." My mom knows me well enough to have saved it for me to read, sadly, USA Today does not appear to know me well enough to write an even-remotely-interesting article on the changing state of gaming. I got much more interesting reports on the new Wii U by reading Twitter last week, than by reading this article. The blue and purple comparison graphic the article used added a sense of colorful playfulness and almost made it look like they knew what they were talking about. However, I found the graphic to be slightly condescending and confusing.

What I found annoying was the graphic shows average age, number of males vs females who currently play video games, and the type of devices people use/used today vs five years ago. It's an interesting snapshot of the gaming world, but that's all it is: a snapshot. Did the article discuss this colorful snapshot at all? Nope. The entire article glazed over Microsoft, Sony, and the history of consoles, but mostly focused on the new Wii U and social media gaming like on Facebook and Zynga, and-of course-what it means financially (I don't know why that shocked me quite as much as it did.)

The article also goes on to talk about how Nintendo is planning on keeping "longtime gamers happy" by making sure that the Wii U is focused towards them. Well, according to gamers whose opinions I value a lot more than Mr. Mike Snider (I don't know who he is, other than USA Today's media expert, as far as I can tell) Nintendo doesn't quite know who/what they're targeting anymore. I think this article is a financial update on the gaming industry attempting to disguise itself as an article of the overall state of gaming, and failing miserably. It was a snoozefest, reporting stuff I already new, but any "news" that was news to me I didn't actually care about. zzzzzzz.

Did anyone else read this article and get more out of it than I did?

Game Night



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Last night, Boyfriend and I had a "game night" with our friend Max. We usually get together every other Thursday for Pathfinder, but our GM was not ready for the next step in our campaign so we decided to have a good ol' fashion board/card/video game night. After catching up on the most recent episodes of Tabletop last week, we all had a hankering to play some Munchkin and/or Ticket to Ride, but just to whet our gaming whistles, we started off with a card game called Cards Against Humanity, a game I had heard about, but not yet played. The subtitle of the game is "a party game for horrible people" and they aren't kidding. To sum up the game in an elevator pitch, it's essentially Apples to Apples for people with a sick and twisted sense of humor. The game gave us some awesome laughs and so so many groans of omagod-that's-terrible-but-so-funny. Boyfriend hates Apples to Apples with a passion, so I was actually surprised he had fun with Cards Against Humanity. His reasoning for hating Apples to Apples is because there are no "rules" to winning, it's a very subjective game.  He likes games with rules where there is a clear winner. He and I are both rather competitive people, and I could tell he was getting frustrated not "winning" Cards Against Humanity, but that really just means he's not as awful of a human being as I am because I won. Or did I? My favorite cards in my hand during the course of the game were, "Video tape of Oprah crying into a tray of Lean Cuisine," and "Picking up girls outside of an abortion clinic." Why? Because I'm a bad person. 

One of these is the face of a sick and twisted individual.

Short-story-long: game nights are the best. And I am the worst.

Another Collection of Open Letters

Dear Chase Bank,

Can you explain to me why your online banking never works? What's the point of being able to "manage my finances from nearly anywhere" if your apps and website don't work? You might want to work on not sucking so much. This is why I'm planning on leaving you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon. Soon, Chase...soon. 

Best Wishes,
A Customer Only By Default And Because it's Too Much of a Pain in the Ass to Switch Banks At the Moment
Dear Cab Driver,
Yes, it is 1am.  Yes, we are all tired.  Yes, we can tell you have no idea where you are going.  When you make a right turn instead of a left and we tell you that you need to turn around, and then you tell us you "can't make a u-turn because there's a cop right there" our reaction is going to be one filled with exhausted raging sarcasm. In this situation, we will inform you that it doesn't matter that a cop is there, it doesn't change the fact that we are now travelling south when we need to go north to get home. Sorry, we misplaced our magic wands that could magically teleport our apartment to a new location that's more convenient for you. But what do you care? You're not listening to us and your wrong turns made the cab ride cost an additional $4.  Lucky you.
Cordially,
Disgruntled Jess

Dear Woman Sitting Next to Me at Heartland Brewery,
Hi. Yes, I realize the seating arrangement of the restaurant has placed us within earshot of one another, but why do you think that means you can turn and interject your opinions into a complete stranger's conversation? Hmmm? Riddle me that, bitch. And, if I say I find the "relationship" between the main characters of Fifty Shades of Grey to be creepy and uncomfortable for me and I don't understand why anyone finds it erotic, then who the fuck are you to butt in and contradict me?! You don't know me or anything about my life. Mind your own fucking business or you and my steak knife are about to get real acquainted real quick.
With Appreciation,
Angry Stabby Jess

Dear Payroll Department,
Hi. Remember me? I've only worked here for 2 years and my desk is only right next to you guys. I'm the one who comes and bothers you twice a month because my paycheck is screwed up and/or missing altogether.  I know you guys have gone through 3 different directors in the past few months, and I'm sure it's difficult when the corporate payday falls on the same day as the temp department payday, but seriously? I make a piss-poor salary as it is and having to wait an extra day to get paid because someone screwed up can mean the difference between eating and not eating for a whole day. I don't exactly choose to live hand-to-mouth, but you're not making it any easier. And no, it doesn't help if you "cut me a live check today" because even if I go deposit it in the bank right this second it won't clear until tomorrow anyway! Get your shit together.
Respectfully,
Po' ass Jess

Dear Co-Workers,
Seriously, if I hear the name Christian Grey one more time, I will throw up on each and every one of you. 
Sincerely,
Someone who prefers intellectual stimulation from her books

Dear Century 21,
The 1980's called to apologize for vomiting prom dresses in your store, but they are quite surprised you even noticed. Oh wait. You didn't. But, then again, neither did the incredibly hairy man trying on one of said prom dresses in the middle of the store.
Smiles,
Fashion Cadet Jess

Dear Spell Check,
Teleport IS a word and it IS spelled correctly! Please top asking me to change it to "telephoto" or "teapot." You are dumb.
Many Thanks,
Grammar Gurl Jess

Adventures in Show Business

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As a (trying-to-be-working) actor, and as most actors, I subscribe to several websites/online networks that list casting notices. These notices include big-time union films or TV shows, local theatre, indie films, and (mostly) student films. 

Oh, student films...you are a double-edge sword. If it's a well-done film, awesome! You now have a small piece to put on your reel, but no paycheck. If it's a not-so-well-done film, (*cue Price Is Right fail music*) then too-bad-so-sad, you just wasted your time and talent on a sorry waste of space that you pray will never see the light of day.

This all being said, I just HAD to share this latest character description I just received in my inbox.  Keep in mind, this is what is supposed to entice me to submit my head shot and resume to be considered to audition, also I have not changed the wording, grammar, or the format.

 Character: The Prostitute- You will act the prostitute. PLEASE NOTE THAT in the story you give the customer a fellatio. but you do NOT actually give him anything. he does NOT even take off his pants. if you have clothes like the one in the movie taxi driver, it will be great.

Did you see it? Did you see the train wreck of words happen right before your very eyes? Let's break it down now.

Thank you, director. Thank you for telling me that i will be acting, just in case I was unsure what i was signing up for when subscribing to a "casting notice" and paying a monthly sum to do so. But let's get to the real heavy-duty tragedy of this here description. Now, I don't consider myself an expert in sexual acts, but how does one person give someone else "A fellatio" exactly??? Technically speaking, the word fellatio is a noun-according to Webster-but how awkward is that phrase?! Did you ever take an English class young man? (Please, you know a dude wrote this...that and his first name is on the casting notice.) I think the slightly more grammatically correct and less awkward way to phrase that is, "...the character will perform fellatio on a male customer." But maybe that's just me being nit-picky.

What is my favorite part about this student film character description, you ask? It's a toss-up, but I'm definitely leaning towards the part at the end that tells me to dress in "clothes like the one from taxi driver." The grammar nerd inside of me is screaming violently about proper nouns, and qualifiers and quantifiers, but I won't go there right now, lest grammar nerd takes over and this becomes the longest blog post ever about something so, so stupid. Instead, my question is, which clothes are you speaking of, dear, dear director? There are lots of clothes in Taxi Driver.

There's this lovely ensemble.
Columbia Pictures

But you were probably thinking of this one, all covered in blood, right?

Oh, wait! That's right, this role is for a female prostitute. The director was probably referring to one of the outfits worn by the 13-year-old prostitute in the film, portrayed by the lovely and talented Jodie Foster. But based on the director's description, how would one know that unless they were familiar with the film? Any actor worth their salt is familiar with Taxi Driver, but any actor worth their salt is probably not going to give this student film description a second glance, yet alone submit for casting.

This 13-year-old is more talented than I might ever be.

What is my other favorite part about this casting notice? The fact that the director/student has clearly specified that the actress he casts will not actually be doing any sexual acts. PHEW! I was so worried there for a minute. I was concerned that were I to get cast by this kid who is not paying me, in his film that is going to be used solely for educational/school purposes, I would actually be required to give some stranger a BJ for the sake of this kid's grade. Wow.  Thank you for clearing that up.  Dodged that bullet, didn't I?!

It kind of makes me question what people learn in film school.  I mean, do they explain to young wanna-be directors that what you see on the TV/film screen isn't actually happening? If you read any interview with an actor who has filmed a "love" scene, they will mostly all say what an uncomfortable and not-sexy experience it is.

Lesson 1: This girl is not actually a prostitute, kids.

And this man is not actually a taxi driver.

What I guess I'm trying to say is, use grammar and spell check, kids! Also, read your sentence out loud to someone else before you publish it. If you don't put out quality, you probably won't get back quality. Short-story-long: I did not submit for this casting call, mostly because of the grammar and sentence structure, but also because I've already portrayed enough prostitutes and I'm looking to expand my character choices, but that's another story for another blog...

Insert picture of me looking like a prostitute here.

(Sorry, I couldn't actually find one.)

More Tragedy...

RROD Gallery

I've spoken at length about our troubles with our PS3 and the yellow light of death. After the most recent breakdown, Boyfriend and I decided it was time to start saving up to buy a new one, especially since it doesn't look like the newest Sony console will be out anytime soon. Plus, we reasoned, at least we still have an XBox360. 

Correction: we have a console formally-known-as-a-functioning-XBox360. Console tragedy has struck yet again! The XBox360 displayed the "Red Ring of Death" the other day. Unfortunately, even the famous towel trick could not fix the XBox for more than 5 minutes. Alas. 
On the bright side, we didn't actually pay for the giant paperweight XBox we currently own, it was given to us by a friend, so no money lost there.  But, now we have to save up to buy two new consoles. At least the PS3 still works for the moment.
Ah, crap now I've jinxed it...


Anyone want to donate to the "Buy Gurl on Girl-Gaming new gaming consoles so she can continue to write awesome blogs about them" fund? Only $600. 
Anyone...? 

Kickstarter says no.

The Sometimes-Not-So-Glamorous Process of Film-Making: or Time to Hyperventilate? (UPDATED: Now With Edits)

UPDATE: Ok, I read up a little more and this post is now just another example of my anxiety-ridden crazy brain going into panic mode.  What do I usually do when that happens? I either hyperventilate and curl up into the fetal position and cry, or I write it all down and I just sound like a crazy person. You're welcome. I'm going to go take my meds now. Also, www.playbillsvspayingbills.com is the best website ever for actors.
 
Over the weekend, you may or may not have seen my tweets from the set of White Liars. Saturday was a shooting day of epic-ness. It was the longest day of filming I've ever done outside, but we couldn't have asked for better weather. The skies were ominous early in the morn with some left-over rain clouds from the night before, but by the time I was called to the set at 10AM, the skies were clear and blue and the sun was shining for the rest of the day.  Beautiful.

Film-making is filled with a lot of "hurry up and wait" moments.  Hurry up and get to the set at your call time, then wait until they're ready to shoot your scene. Hurry up and get into position, then wait for all of the elements to fall into place: wait for sound, wait for the camera to record, wait for the director, hold for sound - there's a motorcycle, hold for sound - there's an airplane, stop, cut - some dumbass pedestrians walked into the shot. Reset - get pack into position, try again. It was about 14 hours of that.

Not that I'm complaining, but after Saturday, I completely understand why professional productions with a larger budget than ours have so many people on a crew. Our writer/director/editor/sound op/production coordinator/P.A/actor(s) are all the same people; in an independent production funded by donations and shoe strings we all have to wear many hats. Either because of, or in spite of all of this, I love TV/film production. I love the energy of the set, I love being able to laugh about the ridiculousness that comes from filming on the streets of NYC (I now understand why Hollywood uses back lots all the time.) I just get a rush from being a part of a large creative endeavor, even if my creativity has to be in stop-and-go mode all day. There's something just bohemian and fun about suddenly losing your sound guy because he has to fly to Houston for a last-minute paying job in 3 hours and then everyone turns to you and says, "Congrats, you're the new boom operator/sound engineer for the rest of this shoot. Here's your headphones." And I was a damn fine sound op, if I do say so myself.  I may have found a new calling talent.

What are these jokers doing in our shot? Don't they know we're filming a low-budget web series here?!

 On another note, I want to thank everyone who donated to the White Liars Kickstarter campaign! The production is now funded and is also SAG-AFTRA approved, which means that those in the cast who are already members of the union will get paid and not be in danger of losing their membership for appearing in a non-union production. Plus, that also means that those of us who are currently non-union can very very soon be eligible to join SAG-AFTRA also. I am freaking out about this a little bit. I got the e-mail this morning about needing to send our producer my "particulars" so he can submit the Taft Hartley papers. I'm excited and scared and hopeful all in one! It's really scary when a piece of your dream starts to fall into place, but it also means you'll make a major life choice. 

I am under no obligation to become SAG-AFTRA eligible at this time, but how can I turn it down? Once you are eligible, you have a 30-day period to accept as many union jobs as you can, and then you either must join the union officially if I want to work another union job or not.  If you choose not to join, you will have to start over again working towards union-eligibility (in my case, years.)  
Apparently I know not what I say because the SAG website info is crap. Now I know better.
If you choose to join, you will have to pay the union dues and any additional fees (upwards of $2300) which at this juncture is a fee I cannot afford to pay in a lump sum. 

Maybe my landlord just won't notice that I don't pay rent for 3 months due to union dues...

SAG-AFTRA has a credit union where you can get a loan and pay your dues in increments which is awesome, but I have shit credit thanks thanks to medical bills and credit card charges I racked up just trying to eat and pay rent during the 8 months I was unemployed in the year everything went to hell-or 2008, as it is known to some people.  
So right now, I'm feeling a little bit like the universe is taunting me, or has issued me a passive-aggressive ultimatum on pursuing my dream. I know it really is never too late to go for your dream, look at the wonderful Kathryn Joosten, who lost her battle with lung cancer recently.  She had a full and active acting career which didn't start until she was 42 (something almost unheard of in the youth-obsessed culture of Hollywood) but she was recognizable both in face and voice usually as, "Oh hey, it's that lady." Plus she won 2 Emmys! Or look at Jane Lynch.  She's been a working actor for years, but was not very well-known until The 40-Year-Old Virgin, when she was in her 40's. So, it's never too late. But I still feel like if I were to pass on this opportunity to join the union now, I would regret it. I'm also not assuming that I'm going to be famous just by joining the union.  In fact I would rather not be a celebrity.  I just want to work at something I love and get paid enough to pay my bills. That is the "American Dream" isn't it?

What's NOT standing in my way? 
-Emotional support from those who love/care about me
-My drive/yearning for this to happen
-My talent
-My love of the industry

What IS standing in my way?
-Fear
-Money (or lack thereof)
-More fear  
-Insecurity


Welcome to my existential inner conflict that plagues my mind.
I guess I just gotta pull on my big-girl panties and power through.





You see what I did there, right? Yeah.

Emerald City Con 2012

I was bummed that I couldn't actually go to this, con especially after this video surfaced. So, this isn't really a post, I was quite busy over the weekend with an epic filming of the final episode of White Liars, so I'm phoning this one in. For your viewing pleasure, feast your eyes and ears on this: It's a long one, so strap in!



P.S My inner child geeked out through this entire video.

Life on MooMoo Farm: Adventures in Harvest Moon-ing (Part 2 a review)

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I talked a little bit the other day about my enjoyment in the Harvest Moon franchise games. I promised I would actually get around to reviewing the game and here I am keeping that promise! You're welcome.


Harvest Moon The Tale of Two Towns follows the basic formula set up in the other games in the franchise: you have a farm, you have a horse, you have an overall goal that usually involves caring for livestock and crops. The plot for The Tale of Two Towns is fairly straightforward: many many years ago, there were two towns-Bluebell and Konohana-located on either side of a large mountain, but they were connected by a tunnel/mine that ran through the mountain. One day members from each town got into an argument in the tunnel over which town could cook the best.  The argument got so loud and out-of-hand that the Harvest Goddess who lived on the mountain overheard it and became enraged at the bickering. In a fit of rage, the Harvest Goddess caved in the tunnel, separating the two towns. Decades passed, and the two towns grew resentful of each other mainly out of tradition. This is where the player's story begins.

You as the player must choose which town you want to start a life in.  In European-styled Bluebell, they believe that true farming focuses on livestock over growing crops, so your barns and animal pastures are larger than your acreage of fertile land. In the Eastern-styled Konohana, they believe that true farming should focus on growing crops over livestock, so there is a ton of fertile land available and minimal space for livestock. Your overall goal in the game at the behest of the Harvest Goddess is to befriend the townsfolk in both towns and work to repair the relationship between the two towns' mayors so that they will all be neighborly again, you know, just clean up her mess for her. On top of the overall story goal, you have the ability to court and marry and have a child just like in the other HM games.

Tee hee...I caved in the mountain and made everyone hate each other.  My bad.  Be a dear and fix everything for me, kthanxbai!
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Something I was amused by in this game is the way you repair the mayors' relationship is by participating in the weekly cooking contests in which the two towns compete. (For two towns who hate each other, they certainly agree to spend plenty of time together.) The best/fastest way to repair the friendship is to cook extraordinary dishes and win the cooking competition for your town each week. This is easier said than done. You get help cooking and finding ingredients during your first season (seasons, btw are 31 days instead of 10 like in past HM games, making the game seem easier sometimes, yet sooo much longer.) After the first season is over, though, you're on your own for cooking competitions. And don't try cheating and buying a dish made by your neighbor, because you can't enter that in the contest. My favorite part about the cooking contest is that it's judged by Pierre, the Japanese Demon Willy Wonka.

This guy. This guy judges your nightmares cooking.
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As far as HM games go in the franchise, The Tale of Two Towns is exactly what I want it to be: a little silly, fun, relaxing, and addicting. The game itself is great for anyone who enjoys the franchise. The addition of alpacas to the types of livestock, and the fact that you can have multiple pets who actually contribute to life on the farm instead of just looking cute and eating your food are welcomed in-game features. However, there are some issues and differences between the 2 versions available that are important to cover. There are 2 versions of the game available: DS and 3D. The DS version will play on the 3DS, but will not be playable with the 3D graphics. The 3D game is obviously playable in 3D, but also includes some added features such as StreetPass.  Not a big difference right? Wrong.

The 3D element of the game adds a little to the gameplay, especially during the cut scenes. You notice the trees swaying, the flowers and faces pop off the screen nicely, and I think it really adds a nice quality to the game. However, if you choose to not pay the extra $20-ish for the 3D version, don't worry, you are not losing too much as far as gameplay goes, in fact I actually recommend NOT buying the 3D version.

In case you were thinking about it and hadn't heard, the 3D version of HM is extremely glitchy. Apparently, Natsume has acknowledged the flaws and offered limited solutions or patches to fix it. There have been issues reported that the game will glitch out and close completely (as mine has done on many occasions)when the player is trying to travel/advance between scenes or areas of the map.  Since anyone who has played HM in the past knows that the only time you can save the game is when you go to bed, this is a major problem. The only "solution" to this issue has been to completely shut down the software and the unit after each time you save. Lame. Thankfully, this seems to be helping so far, it's just a bit of a hassle to save my game, then close the software and shutdown the 3DS for a minute, then turn it back on and reload the game.  I'm willing to put up with it mostly because I'm enjoying the game so much, but also I'm almost at the end of my first in game "year" after having played it for over a month IRL. I think Boyfriend was more upset to learn about this glitch than I was, seeing as how he "spent extra money to buy [me] a game that doesn't work!" (A direct quote.)  

So, my overall take on the game? I don't mind the glitch so much, as long as all it does is freeze.  I can tolerate it.  I have heard rumors of players' entire game data being wiped out by the glitch, so hopefully that will never happen, otherwise this gurl may Hulk out a bit and frighten her friendly neighborhood GameStop employees. So, depending on how much you enjoy HM games is probably how much you'll be able to tolerate the glitch. I do enjoy the 3D graphics, while I don't think the game loses anything without them, they are a nice addition.  For anyone who is on the fence about the game, I suggest buying/renting the DS version.  For those who are as gung-ho about HM as I am, you probably already own the game and know what I'm talkin' 'bout.

On my patented scale of 5 nerdy things:

Gameplay: I give Harvest Moon The Tale of Two Towns 5 out of 5


Howard thinks this game is FABULOOOOOOUS!
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Mechanically I have to give the game a 2.5 out of 5 because of the freezing/glitch

This man is a Panda and he is not amused by you or your faulty mechanics.
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Fun Fact: I always name my farms "MooMoo Farm" in every HM game I play. Why?
Why not?