1. The Ask

          

    There’s not much I hate more than having to ask people for money. It’s always awkward for everyone involved. The person asking feels embarrassed and nervous. The person being asked feels put on the the spot. That’s the single greatest benefit I can see of being crazy rich: you don’t have to ask people for money anymore. You do what you want. 

    As it turns out, I’m not crazy rich. And I’ve been in a ridiculous number of situations in which I’ve had to ask people for money. Some of these situations have been totally worth it; the vast majority, however, have not. I give you:

    A Sampling of Situations in Which I Have Had to Ask People for Money and the Ensuing Awkwardness:

    • Elementary School Trinket-Peddling: Remember that? Going door-to-door, selling all kinds of useless crap nobody needs/wants, just because you wanted to sell enough merchandise to get a free slap bracelet? Or a radio? What the hell was that? I can truly say, I don’t even know what that money was going toward. Not to mention, who ever thought it was a good idea to send kids door-to-door? STRANGER DANGER. Anyone who buys scented candles from an 8-year-old on a stoop is not to be trusted.
    • High School Candy Bars: This was a step up - at least people like candy bars. But considering how awkward it was for a 15-year-old to talk to strangers about anything, let alone make a sales pitch in support of their Odyssey of the Mind Team (don’t judge), this mostly turned into all of us consuming roughly 20-40 candy bars each during the course of the fundraiser. Which our parents paid for. And we wonder why there’s an obesity epidemic in this country. 
    • College: Yeah, that’s right. I’m pretty sure I was an essay contest slut. I would write an essay about anything, for anyone, anywhere if there was a scholarship prize attached. Calgon Take Me Away? Check. Wonder Bread? Check. Duck Brand Duct Tape Stuck at Prom Contest, in which you had to make a prom dress out of duct tape for a chance to win a scholarship? Ugh. Yes, fine, why not. Nothing like starting out your academic life whoring for every namebrand on the planet.
    • On-Campus Job: I managed to snag a sweet student job making phone calls for the university fundraising department. At least, it seemed like a sweet job. Making phone calls for $12 an hour, plus bonuses if you managed to get  large donations. Oddly enough, people don’t like to be asked for money over the phone. Especially not by the college they spent a significant amount of money to attend. And definitely not during dinner. The real low point came when I called and asked for a woman who a) was a former university basketball coach and b) had been fired from her position at said university for sleeping with one of her female players which c) ended her marriage and d) the husband had kept the house and phone number. He was not interested in donating.
    • Awful Real-Life Job: I read somewhere that the vast majority of people only get raises because they ask for them. That you have to be proactive, confident, and willing to politely request the raise you deserve. So I did that a few years ago at my grown-up job, thinking, hey, I’ve been here for a full year, I work hard, I’m reliable. I’m worth it. Aaaand my boss informed me he’d be happy to write me a glowing recommendation if I needed to look for a position with another company. Which I did, and it paid better, so there. But leading up to that conversation, in which I had to outline my value and ask for corresponding  compensation, I couldn’t help but think it was the worst thing I had ever had to do. 

    The point of all of this, is that I hate asking people for money. It’s the worst. And I’m sure you’ve heard by now that I have a Kickstarter, in which I am voluntarily putting myself through the misery of asking people for money every day for 30 days. I feel like this deserves an explanation, so here it is:

    I believe you should make the art you want to see in the world. I’m not a fan of complainers who don’t bother helping to create. You don’t like all the inane shows on television? Then make a better one. And I don’t mean write a script and hire actors and buy a camera - although, if that’s your dream, then go for it - I mean do what YOU can do to make that happen. Watch the good shows. Talk about the good shows. Throw a fit when they fire Dan Harmon. And put your money where your mouth is. When you see someone working to make something you’d like to watch, and they ask you for a few bucks, throw them a few bucks. I’ve done it, and I’ve never missed that $5 bill.

    A very smart lady once told me, “You’ll never regret the money you spend on art or books.” Clearly, this was before Fifty Shades of Grey happened to us. But I think she was mostly right. It’s a gift to live in a place and time that we can create art that makes us laugh and think and talk and argue. And I will never regret cutting back on my Starbucks spending for a few days in order help make that art happen.

    Yes, I have a Kickstarter. I’m asking you to give me some money. If you click on the link, and watch the trailer we’ve created, and think “This is the absolute worst thing I have ever watched, oh god, my eyes, MY EYES” - don’t give us any money. I mean, SERIOUSLY - don’t give us any money. We’re clearly doing something wrong, and should come up with a better idea. We can handle it. But if you click on that and think “Hey, that wasn’t half bad, I wouldn’t mind watching that film” - throw us a few bucks. We’ll do everything in our power to make something worth watching. Because, honestly, there’s no way in hell I would go through the torture of asking all of you for money if I wasn’t desperately trying to create the art that I want to see in the world.

    Thanks, and here’s the link:

    http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1020889969/follow-friday-the-film

    May 25, 2012
  2. The other day, I asked Rob Delaney a question on Reddit. If you don’t know who Rob Delaney is, he’s a comedian I follow on Twitter. If you don’t know what Twitter is, don’t worry about it. If you don’t know what Reddit is, me neither. As far I’ve been able to tell it’s an unattractive place where information happens. The question I asked (and one of my favorite things to know about people) is “Worst job you ever had?” It says a lot about you, and it’s almost always a good story. If you don’t have one, we may as well end the conversation now because  I am already bored. It’s like my theory about key rings. The more interesting the person, the more keys on the key ring. If you carry only a Mercedes key, I probably can’t be your friend. Unless I need a ride because my Ford Escort is out of commission. Mr. Delaney’s answer (telemarketing for a stock newspaper) delighted me, because it is essentially my answer to the same question (telemarketing for a family entertainment company). This tells me we’re pretty much soulmates, or maybe Twitter BFFs or, more likely, we had the same experience as any decent human being who has ever worked in telemarketing and we’ll probably never actually bond over it in any way, aside from this blog post. Nevertheless: The Worst Job I Ever Had (Spoiler Alert: It Was Telemarketing): Some of these details are hazy because this was more than a decade ago, back when you could still walk to the gate at airports and steal share songs on Napster with reckless abandon. But I’m pretty sure this entire situation is Darien’s fault and that it was his idea to get a job at a telemarketing company. These are the facts. The company sold family entertainment in the form of G-rated movies on VHS. Yes, VHS. It was 2001, and DVD players were finally affordable, but we were expected to sell overpriced VHS tapes, preferably in packages of three because they needed to get rid of the stock before VHS was totally worthless. Which was, like, six months later. The pitch for the company was deliberately phrased to make people think it was a non-profit. We asked people to “take a stand” and “show Hollywood that you don’t approve of violence and promiscuity.” By purchasing some VHS tapes. It remains unclear who in “Hollywood” was getting a copy of your receipt, thereby being made aware of your support for traditional family values. If people didn’t want to buy the tapes (which could only truly be determined by them saying no at least FIVE times), we would ask is there anyone else you think would support our fight for family entertainment, and could you please give us their name and phone number, thank you very much. Then we’d sell them out to their friends and relatives by saying “Aunt Marge said you’d be interested…” It was all very McCarthy-esque. We weren’t even allowed to make the pitch ourselves. We’d start by asking for the person whose name appeared on our list. When we got the right person on the phone, we’d switch over to a recorded voice. Which was disconcerting, to say the least, since the woman’s voice sounded absolutely nothing like me. The recording was actually controlled by keystrokes - each letter corresponded to a phrase or word. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP. There were even interjections, like “uh huh” and “I’m sorry.” And there was a laughter button. So it was just like having a conversation with a real human being, except the real human being was reading a complicated list of keyboard commands while trying to listen to your list of reasons you couldn’t buy any VHS tapes. This whole setup was meant to capitalize on the fact that the recorded voices were the two best salespeople in the company, and obviously the sound of their voice was the key to their success. In reality, the recordings led to some uncomfortable moments when a person would say “We’ve just got a lot of medical bills right now. My husband has cancer.” And Darien would inadvertently respond with “That’s great! Yeah. You know what? I’m sorry. (Cue laughter)” You think I am kidding. Sometimes, okay a lot of times, there weren’t any buttons for the direction the sales pitch would suddenly take. In the middle of a recording explaining the plot of Franklin and the Green Knight (Franklin the turtle goes on a quest to end winter because he’s told he’s going to get a baby brother in the spring), an elderly gentleman interrupted with “Why would I need a green knight when I have the White Knight? The White Knight of our Lord Jesus Christ!” (Cue silence.) My favorite button was the response for the inevitable question, “Is this a recording?” Any time someone asked this, we pressed a key and the creepy salesperson voice would say “Ha ha ha. Do I sound that bad?”  On my third day of telemarketing, I was given a certificate that read “A Star on Your Forehead!” for exceeding the sales goals of the day. No recognition has ever shamed me more than that piece of paper. On my fourth day of telemarketing, an elderly woman told me she didn’t even own a VCR, and she lived on her Social Security, which was never enough, but she wanted to give us some money anyway because she supported our cause. I disconnected the phone call and quit. When I say this is the worst job I ever had, I don’t say it lightly. I took political surveys over the phone. I worked fast food. I was a bra specialist at Victoria’s Secret (not nearly as sexy as it sounds). I made fried chicken at a deli. I waited tables. I worked at Jesus camp. I was a secret shopper. But telemarketing was the worst job I ever had, because I was selling a worthless product, to people who didn’t want to buy it, by any means necessary. Darien lasted maybe two days longer than I did. And anyone who lasts much longer than that probably starts to die a little inside with every star on their forehead.  For those of you currently experiencing your brief stint as a telemarketer: it gets better. You will quit. You will work other crappy jobs, but none as bad. And you will never be the boring person at the party with no keys on your key chain and no work experience you intentionally omit from your resume. Let’s be friends.
    High Res

    The other day, I asked Rob Delaney a question on Reddit. If you don’t know who Rob Delaney is, he’s a comedian I follow on Twitter. If you don’t know what Twitter is, don’t worry about it. If you don’t know what Reddit is, me neither. As far I’ve been able to tell it’s an unattractive place where information happens.

    The question I asked (and one of my favorite things to know about people) is “Worst job you ever had?” It says a lot about you, and it’s almost always a good story. If you don’t have one, we may as well end the conversation now because  I am already bored. It’s like my theory about key rings. The more interesting the person, the more keys on the key ring. If you carry only a Mercedes key, I probably can’t be your friend. Unless I need a ride because my Ford Escort is out of commission.

    Mr. Delaney’s answer (telemarketing for a stock newspaper) delighted me, because it is essentially my answer to the same question (telemarketing for a family entertainment company). This tells me we’re pretty much soulmates, or maybe Twitter BFFs or, more likely, we had the same experience as any decent human being who has ever worked in telemarketing and we’ll probably never actually bond over it in any way, aside from this blog post. Nevertheless:

    The Worst Job I Ever Had (Spoiler Alert: It Was Telemarketing):

    Some of these details are hazy because this was more than a decade ago, back when you could still walk to the gate at airports and steal share songs on Napster with reckless abandon. But I’m pretty sure this entire situation is Darien’s fault and that it was his idea to get a job at a telemarketing company. These are the facts.

    • The company sold family entertainment in the form of G-rated movies on VHS. Yes, VHS. It was 2001, and DVD players were finally affordable, but we were expected to sell overpriced VHS tapes, preferably in packages of three because they needed to get rid of the stock before VHS was totally worthless. Which was, like, six months later.
    • The pitch for the company was deliberately phrased to make people think it was a non-profit. We asked people to “take a stand” and “show Hollywood that you don’t approve of violence and promiscuity.” By purchasing some VHS tapes. It remains unclear who in “Hollywood” was getting a copy of your receipt, thereby being made aware of your support for traditional family values.
    • If people didn’t want to buy the tapes (which could only truly be determined by them saying no at least FIVE times), we would ask is there anyone else you think would support our fight for family entertainment, and could you please give us their name and phone number, thank you very much. Then we’d sell them out to their friends and relatives by saying “Aunt Marge said you’d be interested…” It was all very McCarthy-esque.
    • We weren’t even allowed to make the pitch ourselves. We’d start by asking for the person whose name appeared on our list. When we got the right person on the phone, we’d switch over to a recorded voice. Which was disconcerting, to say the least, since the woman’s voice sounded absolutely nothing like me. The recording was actually controlled by keystrokes - each letter corresponded to a phrase or word. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP. There were even interjections, like “uh huh” and “I’m sorry.” And there was a laughter button. So it was just like having a conversation with a real human being, except the real human being was reading a complicated list of keyboard commands while trying to listen to your list of reasons you couldn’t buy any VHS tapes. This whole setup was meant to capitalize on the fact that the recorded voices were the two best salespeople in the company, and obviously the sound of their voice was the key to their success. In reality, the recordings led to some uncomfortable moments when a person would say “We’ve just got a lot of medical bills right now. My husband has cancer.” And Darien would inadvertently respond with “That’s great! Yeah. You know what? I’m sorry. (Cue laughter)” You think I am kidding.
    • Sometimes, okay a lot of times, there weren’t any buttons for the direction the sales pitch would suddenly take. In the middle of a recording explaining the plot of Franklin and the Green Knight (Franklin the turtle goes on a quest to end winter because he’s told he’s going to get a baby brother in the spring), an elderly gentleman interrupted with “Why would I need a green knight when I have the White Knight? The White Knight of our Lord Jesus Christ!” (Cue silence.)
    • My favorite button was the response for the inevitable question, “Is this a recording?” Any time someone asked this, we pressed a key and the creepy salesperson voice would say “Ha ha ha. Do I sound that bad?” 
    • On my third day of telemarketing, I was given a certificate that read “A Star on Your Forehead!” for exceeding the sales goals of the day. No recognition has ever shamed me more than that piece of paper.
    • On my fourth day of telemarketing, an elderly woman told me she didn’t even own a VCR, and she lived on her Social Security, which was never enough, but she wanted to give us some money anyway because she supported our cause. I disconnected the phone call and quit.

    When I say this is the worst job I ever had, I don’t say it lightly. I took political surveys over the phone. I worked fast food. I was a bra specialist at Victoria’s Secret (not nearly as sexy as it sounds). I made fried chicken at a deli. I waited tables. I worked at Jesus camp. I was a secret shopper. But telemarketing was the worst job I ever had, because I was selling a worthless product, to people who didn’t want to buy it, by any means necessary. Darien lasted maybe two days longer than I did. And anyone who lasts much longer than that probably starts to die a little inside with every star on their forehead. 

    For those of you currently experiencing your brief stint as a telemarketer: it gets better. You will quit. You will work other crappy jobs, but none as bad. And you will never be the boring person at the party with no keys on your key chain and no work experience you intentionally omit from your resume. Let’s be friends.

    March 9, 2012

  3. Welcome to Hollywood

           

    I saw this guy the other day, holding a sign that said “JESUS PUTS D SONG IN MY (heart)” and dancing in the crosswalk at Hollywood and Highland.  And he seriously looked as if he had d song in his heart.  The man was ecstatic.  At first, I didn’t even really see him.  It’s Hollywood and Highland.  To put this in perspective for those of you who are not from LA, on the opposite corner Elmo and Jack Sparrow were having a conversation with each other.  This is Hollywood.  There is very little that seems out of place.  I’m glad I snapped a picture though, because the more I thought about it, the more I realized how crazy this place is, and how much I adore it.  That’s right: I adore it.  I don’t have a lot of patience for LA haters.  The sun is shining, there are palm trees lining the streets, and Jesus has put d song in that man’s heart.  What’s not to love?  

    Speaking of Jesus, he’s one of my favorite people I see wandering the streets on a regular basis.  He keeps more toward West Hollywood, and he only really comes out when the weather is nice, but there he is.  Posing for pictures with tourists and staring at traffic from below the Chateau Marmont.

    I think it might be healthy to see a little bit of crazy every day.  Unexpected, out of the ordinary, completely weird things.  And LA’s good for that.  To illustrate, I’m going to share with you some tweets from a source called WeHo Daily (WeHo, as in West Hollywood).  They’re good for instant local news updates that you wouldn’t find anywhere else.  Seriously though; you will not see this kind of news anywhere else.  (If you do not understand how Twitter works, I cannot help you at this time.  But call me sometime this weekend and we’ll start at the beginning…)

    My Favorite Recent Tweets from @wehodaily (in Reverse Chronological Order):

    • here’s a little writeup of dog drama from yesterday RT : Dog leaps off WeHo balcony, gets stuck in railing http://ow.ly/98sTL
    • RT It’s too bad Newt’s bus didn’t breakdown in front of Rage. That would have been a kiss from baby Jesus.
    • RT : Obama is nearby so none of us can leave the Fox lot. I hope that tweet doesn’t violate some kind of Secret Service rule…
    • angry man foaming at the mouth on mccadden pl near santa monica blvd
    • nearby: man armed with a rake at olympic and sepulveda trying to hit passing vehicles
    • report of a female locked inside bathroom at gateway center “smoking drugs” refusing to come out, sheriff going to help
    • Sunset between Ivar and Vine will be closed tonight from 6:30 p.m. to 7:30 p.m for “Act of Valor” premiere at 
    • RT : A bunch of Navy Seals are literally parachuting from the sky over Cahuenga Blvd. IT’S RAINING MEN! Thank you Jesus!!
    • bomb squad is detonating the device NOW
    • two guys fighting at yogurt stop on sm blvd. one bleeding from the head.
    • there is a man who is showing his little man or something else indecent in street on wilshire near el rey theatre, lapd checking
    • Hmmm RT   creepy guy with glass eye tried to walk into our apartment on croft. This happen to anyone else?
    • small chihuahua running loose in the street around fountain and sweetzer — call the sheriff ASAP if it is YOUR dog! 
    • naked man in the street at santa monica and western, LAPD helicopter overhead and ground units coming in with a taser
    • man in a tree on sweetzer. may be on something. climbed 2 floors high & tried to hold conversation with resident on her balcony.

    Just to be clear, those are all tweets from the last two weeks.  This is why people call it Hollyweird.  It’s weird.  And not ever boring.  Just the way I like it.  For reals - West Hollywood Jesus puts d song in my heart.

    February 18, 2012