Patrick Walsh
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LO from LA
posted Saturday, 3 June 2006
Sorry for the lack of writing, it's been a crazy couple weeks. I am now living in Hollywood, California. I have a nice studio apartment. I have bowls, plates, and cups from Pier 1 Imports. I've got HBO On Demand.
I'm kind of a big deal.
So the question I keep getting asked is "What show are you writing for?" That question fills me with the sort of stomach flipping misery usually reserved for getting dumped. For as soon as we landed in Los Angeles, our agent explained that this was "the year that comedy died." Just what you want to hear from the man who decides if you're going to spend the next several months getting blown by Cameron Diaz or...sitting in your studio apartment eating food off dinnerware from Pier 1 Imports and watching HBO On Demand.
The networks picked up about 10 less comedies this year than in every year prior. This amounts to MANY less jobs. And since older, experienced writers are always staffed first, there's not any food left in the chain for younger writers. Our agent also explained that seasoned writers with homes and children are freaking out because they can't get staffed this year. My thinking on this matter is: "Fuck those people. Fuck them and their children." But I kept that to myself.
So we are still not completely shut out, a last minute opportunity could present itself at any time, but things are looking bleaker. From what everyone out here has been saying, it will happen. But now they are saying maybe not right this second.
So since I moved out here with the near promise of success and big money, I am feeling a little morose of late. Here I am. I have nothing to do. I have almost no friends. I left my girlfriend. I left a reasonably well-paying job. And...nothing. I am lonely and most everything is going poorly.
My new computer arrived badly damaged by UPS, and though I took out 800 bucks worth of insurance on it, their methods of being reimbursed are so amazingly complicated, I can tell you right now I will never see a dime. You should have seen this woman throwing my boxes around the truck right in front of me. Who knows what was done to them when I wasn't watching! They all were clearly marked FRAGILE! All the boxes were trashed, my DVDs actually arrived in a different box than they were shipped in! I imagine they stopped somewhere in Des Moines and had a garage sale or something. Isn't the reason you go with UPS, to get your stuff shipped safely? I'm telling you now, don't use them. I hate them.
I slept the first week on the floor, no blankets or anything, but finally got a bed. It is comfortable. I had been searching everywhere for a car, and finally found one I liked in my price range. And then that car got IMPOUNDED! I swear, a dark cloud follows me around like in "Peanuts" cartoons. You should have heard the guy, "The car's in my buddy's name, so just come down to the impound lot and I'll see if they'll sign it over to you. Like, I think that will mean the impounding deal is on your record, but it's a really minimal fine."
Can you believe that? Like I'm so desperate to have his piece of shit dented '94 Infiniti that I'll take on a parking violation that isn't mine and pay to get it out of impound.
I wound up with a 1997 Saturn sports coupe. It's green. It's pretty cool looking and has a cd player. What worried me was the guy kept saying "Now you're taking this AS IS, right? AS IS?" He warned me that a few things might need to be repaired but i talked him down to $1000 and felt confident in my purchase.
And then the side view mirror fell off when I got home. It is hanging on by three wires, but it's completely off. Any advice on how to fix that? I bought some heavy duty farm machinery glue and I'm seeing if it holds till morning. Otherwise the mechanic made me a pretty steep estimate to repair it. It also needs a new head gasket, there is some oil in the water. Apparently that's bad. I'm hearing all sorts of price tags on that one. All of them ring up at over a grand.
I also took it to get "Smogged," LA's version of an inspection. It didn't pass. Not because of emissions or anything...but because its "computer" was scrambled. The guy told me something had recently been done with the battery which reset the car's "computer." He recommended I drive it 100 miles to get it back on track.
"So I'll be driving an uninsured, unregistered, unlicensed car that hasn't passed inspection 100 miles on the streets of Los Angeles?" I asked him.
He looked at me, spat twice, and walked away.
I did manage to get a California driver's license, depsite basically doing ABACADABA down the driver's test. Things have changed since when I took the test in 1996, in Missouri no less. I'll be honest, I copied a few answers from the person next to me. Who was obviously an immigrant. And who was more than likely taking a different test, as I realized there are six versions of it to discourage cheating. You were allowed to miss six and still pass. I missed five.
Ah, doing just barely what needs to be done to get by. It reminded me of high school.
So, what can I say? Thus far, I'm not hitting up beach parties and doing blow at Peter Fonda's Malibu estate. In fact, I'm basically just watching a lot of television and trying to push the following scenario out of my mind:
FADE IN--A NEW YORK CITY BAR
INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE DOUCHEBAG: So, what's your story? You got a boyfriend?
MY GIRLFRIEND: Yes, I do. He lives in California and I love him very much.
INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE DOUCHEBAG: Well, he's not here tonight is he?
MY GIRLFRIEND: No, he's not.
INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE DOUCHEBAG: I bet you're feeling pretty lonely.
He caresses her cheek tenderly.
MY GIRLFRIEND: Yes, I am.
INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE DOUCHEBAG: Well, you know who is here tonight?
She places her hand on his.
MY GIRLFRIEND: Who?
INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE DOUCHEBAG: Me. And I fuck like a stallion.
They begin furiously making out, and as bar patrons gather around and begin to cheer, he throws her up on the bar and starts fingerbanging her hummingbird-style. He throws up the devil horns with his free hand and wags his tongue like Gene Simmons of Kiss. Several guys come up and take a turn, while my girlfriend throws back her head in delight.
The footage hits the internet Monday morning. I stumble upon it while looking for porn. I don't know whether to jerk off or cry. I decide to combine the two, using my tears as a lubricant.
I'm kind of a big deal.
So the question I keep getting asked is "What show are you writing for?" That question fills me with the sort of stomach flipping misery usually reserved for getting dumped. For as soon as we landed in Los Angeles, our agent explained that this was "the year that comedy died." Just what you want to hear from the man who decides if you're going to spend the next several months getting blown by Cameron Diaz or...sitting in your studio apartment eating food off dinnerware from Pier 1 Imports and watching HBO On Demand.
The networks picked up about 10 less comedies this year than in every year prior. This amounts to MANY less jobs. And since older, experienced writers are always staffed first, there's not any food left in the chain for younger writers. Our agent also explained that seasoned writers with homes and children are freaking out because they can't get staffed this year. My thinking on this matter is: "Fuck those people. Fuck them and their children." But I kept that to myself.
So we are still not completely shut out, a last minute opportunity could present itself at any time, but things are looking bleaker. From what everyone out here has been saying, it will happen. But now they are saying maybe not right this second.
So since I moved out here with the near promise of success and big money, I am feeling a little morose of late. Here I am. I have nothing to do. I have almost no friends. I left my girlfriend. I left a reasonably well-paying job. And...nothing. I am lonely and most everything is going poorly.
My new computer arrived badly damaged by UPS, and though I took out 800 bucks worth of insurance on it, their methods of being reimbursed are so amazingly complicated, I can tell you right now I will never see a dime. You should have seen this woman throwing my boxes around the truck right in front of me. Who knows what was done to them when I wasn't watching! They all were clearly marked FRAGILE! All the boxes were trashed, my DVDs actually arrived in a different box than they were shipped in! I imagine they stopped somewhere in Des Moines and had a garage sale or something. Isn't the reason you go with UPS, to get your stuff shipped safely? I'm telling you now, don't use them. I hate them.
I slept the first week on the floor, no blankets or anything, but finally got a bed. It is comfortable. I had been searching everywhere for a car, and finally found one I liked in my price range. And then that car got IMPOUNDED! I swear, a dark cloud follows me around like in "Peanuts" cartoons. You should have heard the guy, "The car's in my buddy's name, so just come down to the impound lot and I'll see if they'll sign it over to you. Like, I think that will mean the impounding deal is on your record, but it's a really minimal fine."
Can you believe that? Like I'm so desperate to have his piece of shit dented '94 Infiniti that I'll take on a parking violation that isn't mine and pay to get it out of impound.
I wound up with a 1997 Saturn sports coupe. It's green. It's pretty cool looking and has a cd player. What worried me was the guy kept saying "Now you're taking this AS IS, right? AS IS?" He warned me that a few things might need to be repaired but i talked him down to $1000 and felt confident in my purchase.
And then the side view mirror fell off when I got home. It is hanging on by three wires, but it's completely off. Any advice on how to fix that? I bought some heavy duty farm machinery glue and I'm seeing if it holds till morning. Otherwise the mechanic made me a pretty steep estimate to repair it. It also needs a new head gasket, there is some oil in the water. Apparently that's bad. I'm hearing all sorts of price tags on that one. All of them ring up at over a grand.
I also took it to get "Smogged," LA's version of an inspection. It didn't pass. Not because of emissions or anything...but because its "computer" was scrambled. The guy told me something had recently been done with the battery which reset the car's "computer." He recommended I drive it 100 miles to get it back on track.
"So I'll be driving an uninsured, unregistered, unlicensed car that hasn't passed inspection 100 miles on the streets of Los Angeles?" I asked him.
He looked at me, spat twice, and walked away.
I did manage to get a California driver's license, depsite basically doing ABACADABA down the driver's test. Things have changed since when I took the test in 1996, in Missouri no less. I'll be honest, I copied a few answers from the person next to me. Who was obviously an immigrant. And who was more than likely taking a different test, as I realized there are six versions of it to discourage cheating. You were allowed to miss six and still pass. I missed five.
Ah, doing just barely what needs to be done to get by. It reminded me of high school.
So, what can I say? Thus far, I'm not hitting up beach parties and doing blow at Peter Fonda's Malibu estate. In fact, I'm basically just watching a lot of television and trying to push the following scenario out of my mind:
FADE IN--A NEW YORK CITY BAR
INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE DOUCHEBAG: So, what's your story? You got a boyfriend?
MY GIRLFRIEND: Yes, I do. He lives in California and I love him very much.
INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE DOUCHEBAG: Well, he's not here tonight is he?
MY GIRLFRIEND: No, he's not.
INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE DOUCHEBAG: I bet you're feeling pretty lonely.
He caresses her cheek tenderly.
MY GIRLFRIEND: Yes, I am.
INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE DOUCHEBAG: Well, you know who is here tonight?
She places her hand on his.
MY GIRLFRIEND: Who?
INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE DOUCHEBAG: Me. And I fuck like a stallion.
They begin furiously making out, and as bar patrons gather around and begin to cheer, he throws her up on the bar and starts fingerbanging her hummingbird-style. He throws up the devil horns with his free hand and wags his tongue like Gene Simmons of Kiss. Several guys come up and take a turn, while my girlfriend throws back her head in delight.
The footage hits the internet Monday morning. I stumble upon it while looking for porn. I don't know whether to jerk off or cry. I decide to combine the two, using my tears as a lubricant.
What do you think? Leave me a comment! (7)
1. KenDonnelly left...
Sunday, 4 June 2006 9:46 pm
I almost woke my girlfriend by laughing at your latest entry! U fucking
rock man - go get it done...
2. M. Kemper Brown left...
Monday, 5 June 2006 1:32 am
I agree with Mr. Donnelly wholeheartedly. You definitely have to get it
done. I don't know what "it" is, exactly, but it seems reasonable that it
should get done.
3. Dale left...
Monday, 5 June 2006 8:15 am
Pat funny thing my friend and I were just talking about when he used to
work for Fed Ex and UPS. All I have to say is you were correct to ship it
UPS. Apparently people at Fed Ex like to play "Fragile Box Soccer". In
which instead of getting the box from one part of the place to another
using normal methods. One person will grab the box yell "FRAGILE BOX!" and
kick it as hard as he can across the floor. Then other co-workers will try
and stop him from getting it on the truck. You score a goal when you kick
it in the truck.
4. GMMR left...
Monday, 5 June 2006 10:06 am
Keep your spirits up!! Things will indeed turn around. You already took a
huge step by moving to LA. You'll be laughing at the newbie on the below
you on the food chain before you know it.
6. Julie left...
Monday, 5 June 2006 3:42 pm
I will make sure no one fingerbangs lauren. You're missed.
7. Matthew left...
Thursday, 8 June 2006 3:25 pm :: http://turboshark.blogspot.com
Don't get down, Pat. C'mon man! You want to know the secret to making in
LA? The REAL secret? Just do the following: