I think we have established, with a fair amount of certainty, that I do not do well with surprises that force me to make a split second decision. I can’t recognize hearts of palm when making a salad for my boss, I can’t wrap my mind around the acceptability of the truth when caught of guard with a question, I can’t even correct people when they call me Fran Drescher… or Monica… or Don. And while I may be alone on my frantic reactions in these situations, I think I speak for everyone when I say there is nothing more surprising, that forces you to make a quick decision, than realizing the person you’re talking to has a lazy eye.
I first encountered this a year or so ago when in a crowded lecture hall in college when I was a guide for freshman girls going through sorority recruitment. I was standing trying to get control of my overzealous tweens and was several rows in front of my group when I looked up at one of my girls to answer her question. It appeared that she was talking past me, several rows behind me, to someone else. I turned around to make sure she was talking to me, saw no evidence to the contrary and turned back. I was stunned into a panic and red face when I realized she had a lazy eye. She only gave the illusion of looking at someone else. I felt so bad; I almost gave her a bid to my house right then and there.
I could not have had a more obvious ‘lazy eye confusion reaction’. She saw right through my quick and panicked cover of, “oh, I thought I, uh, thought I heard my name…” I reflected on my embarrassing turn around for hours after the incident and over dramatized it to the point where I envisioned my whole body had turned in such rapid, cartoon-esque confusion that my neck looked like a twisted rope of Silly Putty, having turned several times searching for the destination of her focus. And everyone’s hair whipping across their faces from the typhoon style winds that came from my movement. In reality I’m sure I’m sure I played it cool… but probably not that cool.
I have found the best way to handle these situations is to either treat your new friend as Cyclopes and stare directly in between their eyes, or change the topic of conversation to the scenery and spend the rest of your conversation looking out at the horizon gesturing to various things and avoiding eye contact completely. Now, clearly both of these tactics have their own ideal setting and you must use your own judgment when deciding which to use. Obviously, a run-in on a rural path in Tuscany at sunset is perfect for drawing attention to scenery, but a run-in in the dog food aisle at the grocery store might leave you setting your focus to the center of their face.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Whatcha, Whatcha, Whatcha Want
HELLO READERS!! BIG news coming atcha out of Los Angeles, CA. We are finally set to do our reshoots for the short film we started back in November. I cannot even express how huge of a relief this is to know this project will actually get finished. We are reshooting this Sunday so hopefully I will have a link up for you all to enjoy the finished product in the next few weeks. Or maybe I won’t. I suppose you will have to continue reading these posts to see whether I’m lying or not. A skill, as you may know, I pride myself on.
Aside from these side splitting blog posts I give to you all on a somewhat irregular basis (I’m sorry, I will try to blog more, but I have a hard time believing my daily routine is remotely interesting) I have started writing a webseries. Making a webseries has been a goal in the back of my mind for quite a while, but as I continue to work on a plot arc for an entire series and as I continue to meet exciting, funny and talented people in LA, the goal has made its way to the front of my mind. If you want a sneak peak of my webseries watch a ton of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” and “How I Met Your Mother” episodes because it is close to a combination of those shows.
I have also rekindled my somewhat tumultuous relationship with Twitter. So please follow me (senny24) for daily tidbits, and brief (140 character max) glimpses into my mind. These tweets can also serve as a snack to tide you over between blog posts! These tweets will also let you know when I have posted a new entry here!
That is all for now, I have an interesting week coming up, including going to a taping of “Rules of Engagement” tomorrow night. I am super excited to see how tall David Spade actually is and I am currently taking bets. You have your choice of any height between 4’10 and 5’2”. Aaaaaannnnddddd go.
Aside from these side splitting blog posts I give to you all on a somewhat irregular basis (I’m sorry, I will try to blog more, but I have a hard time believing my daily routine is remotely interesting) I have started writing a webseries. Making a webseries has been a goal in the back of my mind for quite a while, but as I continue to work on a plot arc for an entire series and as I continue to meet exciting, funny and talented people in LA, the goal has made its way to the front of my mind. If you want a sneak peak of my webseries watch a ton of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” and “How I Met Your Mother” episodes because it is close to a combination of those shows.
I have also rekindled my somewhat tumultuous relationship with Twitter. So please follow me (senny24) for daily tidbits, and brief (140 character max) glimpses into my mind. These tweets can also serve as a snack to tide you over between blog posts! These tweets will also let you know when I have posted a new entry here!
That is all for now, I have an interesting week coming up, including going to a taping of “Rules of Engagement” tomorrow night. I am super excited to see how tall David Spade actually is and I am currently taking bets. You have your choice of any height between 4’10 and 5’2”. Aaaaaannnnddddd go.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Lying Only Makes an Ass Out of Me
Lying is a choice. A choice that I have never been very good at making. My lies do not affect anyone but myself, and the only effect it has on me is pure shock of the way my mind works. I panic lie. This happens when I’m asked a question and, for some unknown reason, believe the answer will get me in trouble. These lies are neither better nor worse than the truth. In fact, they are almost always boringly comparable. For example:
Random individual in place of power: “did you bring a jacket?”
Me (panicked): “yes, but it’s in my car” when in reality it is in the bag I’m carrying.
This started in high school and I think stems from the fact that high school was the first time I was actually doing anything against the rules. I was part of a group that wore a “Muck Fullen” shirt to show school pride at the football game against our Catholic high school rival, Mullen. I got a curfew ticket because I was TPing a house with my basketball team. Oddly enough, this was our annual team bonding activity when the Varsity team TPs the JV team. This made it even harder to explain to the cops why we were TPing the house of a girl who had just transferred schools. High school was the first time in my life I had legitimate reasons to lie. Unfortunately I still hadn’t fine-tuned what to lie about. I have traced this problem to the fact that my brain can’t process whether my truth is against the rules quickly enough to know whether I need to lie. Which only leads me to lie about incredibly unimportant things.
In high school I would come home from a night out with my friends. And naturally my mom would ask what I did. I would find myself flustered. My mind would take on two forms; a logical, honest side and a guilty rebel side trying to outwit the parents.
The rebel would caution me to think my answer through: Wait. Think about this first, Anna. Did you do something wrong? Does she know and is trying to trick you? The logical side would counter the rebel and point out the boring and completely acceptable truth: You just watched a movie at a friend’s house, you didn’t do anything wrong. But the rebel would always come through with an undeniably good point: Oh, really, Anna? You think she’s going to buy that?
I had to say something that would keep me in the clear, and in the midst of the chaos going on in my mind, I blurted out, “We went bowling!” A blatant lie to cover up the fact I innocently watched "Mean Girls". Of course then I would have to give details. And by details I do mean more lies. What is an average score of bowling? 90? 150? It turns into a real disaster real quick.
Yes, it was those types of things I chose to lie about. Not important things like the beer my dad found on our back porch/basement/garage. Luckily the only punishment for that was advice to drink better beer. Sorry, Keystone Light.
I truly thought I had outgrown “panic lying” but this habit reared its ugly head just a few weeks ago. I stopped by Starbucks on my way to my nannying job and because I don’t drink coffee and, apparently, am 5 years old, I ordered a hot chocolate. It was sitting on the table as the mom was leaving for work, she noticed my cup and asked what my usual Starbucks drink was. Of course I panicked.
I remembered the very first day we had met she revealed that she and her husband didn’t drink soda (I casually nodded without actually agreeing because an ice cold Coke is one of my favorite things on earth. Get out of here, Pepsi). I knew I didn’t want to seem like a caffeine freak, which I wasn’t because it was hot chocolate. BUT I also didn’t want to be honest and seem immature. What kind of nanny drinks the same thing a 2 year-old would order? A nanny unfit to care for your child, that's who. So I answered, “oh I don’t drink coffee soo…” I was pleased that I averted the question with grace. But then she said “neither do we…” leaving an opening for me to explain myself. “Umm, it’s a vanilla steamer!” I lied. A vanilla steamer? I thought to myself.
The logical and rebel sides in my mind were in agreement. That doesn’t make you seem any more mature than a hot chocolate would. The rebel adding, yup. You’re a dumbass.
Random individual in place of power: “did you bring a jacket?”
Me (panicked): “yes, but it’s in my car” when in reality it is in the bag I’m carrying.
This started in high school and I think stems from the fact that high school was the first time I was actually doing anything against the rules. I was part of a group that wore a “Muck Fullen” shirt to show school pride at the football game against our Catholic high school rival, Mullen. I got a curfew ticket because I was TPing a house with my basketball team. Oddly enough, this was our annual team bonding activity when the Varsity team TPs the JV team. This made it even harder to explain to the cops why we were TPing the house of a girl who had just transferred schools. High school was the first time in my life I had legitimate reasons to lie. Unfortunately I still hadn’t fine-tuned what to lie about. I have traced this problem to the fact that my brain can’t process whether my truth is against the rules quickly enough to know whether I need to lie. Which only leads me to lie about incredibly unimportant things.
In high school I would come home from a night out with my friends. And naturally my mom would ask what I did. I would find myself flustered. My mind would take on two forms; a logical, honest side and a guilty rebel side trying to outwit the parents.
The rebel would caution me to think my answer through: Wait. Think about this first, Anna. Did you do something wrong? Does she know and is trying to trick you? The logical side would counter the rebel and point out the boring and completely acceptable truth: You just watched a movie at a friend’s house, you didn’t do anything wrong. But the rebel would always come through with an undeniably good point: Oh, really, Anna? You think she’s going to buy that?
I had to say something that would keep me in the clear, and in the midst of the chaos going on in my mind, I blurted out, “We went bowling!” A blatant lie to cover up the fact I innocently watched "Mean Girls". Of course then I would have to give details. And by details I do mean more lies. What is an average score of bowling? 90? 150? It turns into a real disaster real quick.
Yes, it was those types of things I chose to lie about. Not important things like the beer my dad found on our back porch/basement/garage. Luckily the only punishment for that was advice to drink better beer. Sorry, Keystone Light.
I truly thought I had outgrown “panic lying” but this habit reared its ugly head just a few weeks ago. I stopped by Starbucks on my way to my nannying job and because I don’t drink coffee and, apparently, am 5 years old, I ordered a hot chocolate. It was sitting on the table as the mom was leaving for work, she noticed my cup and asked what my usual Starbucks drink was. Of course I panicked.
I remembered the very first day we had met she revealed that she and her husband didn’t drink soda (I casually nodded without actually agreeing because an ice cold Coke is one of my favorite things on earth. Get out of here, Pepsi). I knew I didn’t want to seem like a caffeine freak, which I wasn’t because it was hot chocolate. BUT I also didn’t want to be honest and seem immature. What kind of nanny drinks the same thing a 2 year-old would order? A nanny unfit to care for your child, that's who. So I answered, “oh I don’t drink coffee soo…” I was pleased that I averted the question with grace. But then she said “neither do we…” leaving an opening for me to explain myself. “Umm, it’s a vanilla steamer!” I lied. A vanilla steamer? I thought to myself.
The logical and rebel sides in my mind were in agreement. That doesn’t make you seem any more mature than a hot chocolate would. The rebel adding, yup. You’re a dumbass.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Traveling with Karma
There are few things about traveling that surprise me these days. Yes, our security procedures make the job of a TSA guard appealing to sexual assault convicts on parole, and yes, it’s ridiculous that Frontier only serves cookies on flights departing after 10am, but we should really focus on the ridiculous things our fellow travelers do.
Like, wear pajama pants and slippers to the airport. I suppose taking your shoes off at security would be easier in slippers that barely hang onto your feet by broken down terrycloth fabric. I suppose the “just out of bed” look clears you as a terrorist. If you can’t even plan an outfit there is no way you could plan an attack. TSA takes one look at you and waves you through. Yeah, they’re good. No need to check their bags even. Probably just more pajamas. But in my recent trip back from Colorado I was shocked and appalled by two actions of the man sitting next to me on the plane.
He cracked open his Panda Express orange chicken meal combo, the very smell of which gives me heartburn, before we even took off. I knew I was in for a smelly ride, not only are airplanes not known for their stellar ventilation (that orange chicken would be lingering around row 10 for hours), but Panda Express is known for inner grumblings immediately following consumption. Once we were air born, I was pleasantly surprised to notice that the Panda Express smell dissipated easily. This pleasant surprise was quickly replaced by outrage when he reached down and took off his shoes.
I cursed myself for singing my silent praises (in perfect key, I might add) far too early. Yes, the food smell disappeared inside of him, but he didn’t make any moves towards eating his feet. This stench was in it for the long haul. There are few things worse than flying next to the smell of stale sweat, and those things are: flying next to the bathroom and flying at all.
Current travel conditions put you in claustrophobically close quarters with your peers, peers that could be put on the jury of your murder trial. You should leave a distinctly forgettable impression. That means get your act together when it comes to the metal detector at security. Yes, that novelty belt buckle is made of metal. And it’s hideous. Adhere to the size regulations of carry on bags. If your huge bag has to be rearranged several different times in several different overhead bins before you finally surrender to a gate check, you are not being distinctly forgettable. In fact, I will remember your face forever. It’s important to pleasantly blend in. You don’t want to encounter a bitter former travel acquaintance when it comes down to your verdict. “I dunno, fellow jurors, all the evidence points to innocent, but he did take his shoes off… on a plane…”
So I am back in LA after a much-needed break from my stressful Hollywood lifestyle. The largest change in my daily California life and my daily vacation life being the move from watching hours of online TV on my computer, to watching hours of cable on a real TV. Either way it is hard to argue that my life is easy in either situation.
Some news here, we officially did not get the Disney Writer’s Fellowship that we applied to in July. A bummer, but in the time between applying and the rejection I had heard several rumors about the selection process and saw it coming. The short film we shot in November is still struggling with conflict issues and it is unclear when we will finish that project. In much more exciting news, I am starting my second round of improv classes on Saturday, and have a long list of advice I was given to follow up on. This will no doubt lead to many new adventures and (obviously) many new blog posts. If you thought I had experienced every awkward and ridiculous situation possible for one person, I can assure you that 2011 holds many, many more. Mostly because it is I who makes all of these situations awkward.
Like, wear pajama pants and slippers to the airport. I suppose taking your shoes off at security would be easier in slippers that barely hang onto your feet by broken down terrycloth fabric. I suppose the “just out of bed” look clears you as a terrorist. If you can’t even plan an outfit there is no way you could plan an attack. TSA takes one look at you and waves you through. Yeah, they’re good. No need to check their bags even. Probably just more pajamas. But in my recent trip back from Colorado I was shocked and appalled by two actions of the man sitting next to me on the plane.
He cracked open his Panda Express orange chicken meal combo, the very smell of which gives me heartburn, before we even took off. I knew I was in for a smelly ride, not only are airplanes not known for their stellar ventilation (that orange chicken would be lingering around row 10 for hours), but Panda Express is known for inner grumblings immediately following consumption. Once we were air born, I was pleasantly surprised to notice that the Panda Express smell dissipated easily. This pleasant surprise was quickly replaced by outrage when he reached down and took off his shoes.
I cursed myself for singing my silent praises (in perfect key, I might add) far too early. Yes, the food smell disappeared inside of him, but he didn’t make any moves towards eating his feet. This stench was in it for the long haul. There are few things worse than flying next to the smell of stale sweat, and those things are: flying next to the bathroom and flying at all.
Current travel conditions put you in claustrophobically close quarters with your peers, peers that could be put on the jury of your murder trial. You should leave a distinctly forgettable impression. That means get your act together when it comes to the metal detector at security. Yes, that novelty belt buckle is made of metal. And it’s hideous. Adhere to the size regulations of carry on bags. If your huge bag has to be rearranged several different times in several different overhead bins before you finally surrender to a gate check, you are not being distinctly forgettable. In fact, I will remember your face forever. It’s important to pleasantly blend in. You don’t want to encounter a bitter former travel acquaintance when it comes down to your verdict. “I dunno, fellow jurors, all the evidence points to innocent, but he did take his shoes off… on a plane…”
So I am back in LA after a much-needed break from my stressful Hollywood lifestyle. The largest change in my daily California life and my daily vacation life being the move from watching hours of online TV on my computer, to watching hours of cable on a real TV. Either way it is hard to argue that my life is easy in either situation.
Some news here, we officially did not get the Disney Writer’s Fellowship that we applied to in July. A bummer, but in the time between applying and the rejection I had heard several rumors about the selection process and saw it coming. The short film we shot in November is still struggling with conflict issues and it is unclear when we will finish that project. In much more exciting news, I am starting my second round of improv classes on Saturday, and have a long list of advice I was given to follow up on. This will no doubt lead to many new adventures and (obviously) many new blog posts. If you thought I had experienced every awkward and ridiculous situation possible for one person, I can assure you that 2011 holds many, many more. Mostly because it is I who makes all of these situations awkward.
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