everything is everything...
some may say, "worst day ever" and those who say that are pretty fucking dead on in the description of tuesday for yours truly.
after an 'mst3k' style viewing of disney's song of the south and the delightful emergence of 'moonwalking kitties' on monday night at hop's place, we all relunctly woke up at different times all through out the 5o'clock hour to embark on a journey to the ryan seacrest show to see ashlee simpson perform her hit single, "pieces of me," and you know, be apart of the scene.
whatever scene that is, they did not want us to be apart of it. after a hellacious journey from the 57 to the 60 to the 101 during morning rush hour, we arrive at seacrest 8 in the morning. at this point, we thought we'd be safe, we'd get a spot inside, but no, no way jose. the line was already around the block. the line was mostly 12 year old girls in bright colors and flip flops. not to mention, girls wearing short skirts who had no business whatsoever wearing a skirt of such length. it was already a lost cause as myself and hollywood brown shuffled down the steps to get a spot in line. we should've cut our losts at that point, but what we would've gained is even more fun sitting on the 101 again, but maybe we'll get to hear stern talk about his message board again.
so we waited and waited with inane chatter happening behind us. talk of the breast implants and the damage done to the cuticles from being a hair dresser interwoven with my talk of 'hand shakes and hand jobs' being given at the burger king across the street. the blistering heat destroyed our will and the smog from highland ave destroyed our lungs. we were like coppola and little by little, we went insane.
well, me and hollywood. we began to wave at passing traffic and asking for the big rig drivers to honk their horn and being giddy like school children inbetween half hearted attempts at singing phoenix's "everything is everything". and of course, doing the kittie moonwalk into the intersection.
so we got our walking papers from the audience cordinator and sat in the courtyard of the highland & hollywood complex in the shade. while we sat, i learned that reality tv isn't really that real. on seacrest, they were doing an 'ambush' makeover with the people from "ambush makeover". we sat and watched them rehearse the ambush of the make over victim a few times, then taped it; didn't work, and did another take. so guess what, kids, reality tv is not real. although, the guy from "ambush makeover" looks like a fucking tomato in designer jeans in real life.
a mini celebrity spilt of sorts went down today. a friend of mine broke up with his girlfriend. if britney & ashton can't make it, and if these kid can't make it, then what hope is there for love these days?
we went down to amoeba, which so far has provided the only highlight. we spotted deputy dewey buying movie soundtracks on vinyl. finally found a copy of hollertonix's amazing mix, "never scared" and truffaut's shoot the piano player as well as one of the best albums of the year, "alphabetical" by phoenix. so that was cool.
then i come home and attempt to set up the media me plan on my new phone with even more disasterious results. yes, i have a picture phone, but i can not upload any pictures from it. so it's all one big mess; its all my fault and i'll be up early in the morning to fix all of my problems.
uf, one of the worst days in recent memorey.
at least, i have my charla tonight.
[editor's note: as i wrote this, i watched the episode of seacrest in question and came to the conclusion that i wasn't missing that much, and dare i say this, ashlee simpson kinda sucked when she performed her hit single, 'pieces of me'. not to mention, the ap reports seacrest out! permantely i liked trl better anyways; vanessa minnillo, what a babe!]