Friday, April 29, 2005


For those about to enter the job market...

Unless you live in Los Angeles or something is seriously wrong with you (redundant?), the last thing you intend when entering the work force is to end up on Television. But there are steps you can take to ensure that your first leap into the real world doesn't result in incentive to be that day trading stay at home Dad in Pensacola that ends up going ballistic after just a few short years of job market frustration. (yes..and look where that got him...a feature slot on CNN!)

In short, stay away from the following professions unless you're seeking 15 minutes of notoriety and/or holiday conversation filler at the next family dinner table. There are plenty of other professions that end up on the boob tube, but avoiding these is the first step to being an anonymous yet productive member of society.

Top 5 Professions that typically end up on Judge Judy:

Wedding Planner

Florida RV rental Associate


House/Lawncare Professional

Car Detailer

Thursday, April 28, 2005


Mildred touts defeatism..

Dear Cash,

Just 24 hours ago I returned to LA and was given the assignment of "match maker to the spoiled and inherited." Reluctantly accepting the assignment, I wound up taking J Paul Getty's Son Jake and Ayn Rand's bratty granddaughter Paige out for coffee in Culver City.

To start out, it was raining and Getty kept whining about structural damage to his newly renovated Thousand Oaks compound. Personally I love when it rains in LA and could care less if the thing sunk into the valley.

To no surprise, these two descendants of greatness were a bore. Both just talked about golf. After 20 minutes of comparing Pebble Beach with some golf course recently designed by Fuzzy Zoeller, I politely interrupted to suggest a watering hole in Burbank. Before I could get the words out of my mouth, Jake quickly changed the subject.

Suddenly he's talking at Paige about how he just finished reading the 9-11 commission report and was certain that chapter 9 was essentially a stolen plot line from an old Remington Steel Episode.

By this time I had enough and left the lunatic love birds to their own devises while I headed straight for the Burbank bar.

I'm not sure if you've every been, but let me tell you ...

Warner Brothers Lot, Burbank, CA-Across the street at 2 PM on a Tuesday, (usually between Ricky Lake and Judge Judy) you'll find stage hand carpenter apprentices named Luke doing coke in the bathroom. While Luke's nose usually was in the bathroom doing coke, his fingers were scratching off lottery tickets and trying to get up my skirt. However, after a few strong Gin and Tonics, things settled down and we finally had an adult conversation about the world. According to Luke, the Warner Brothers lot sounds like a concentration camp for eccentrics, a Wall-Mart for the glittered, appointed and sorority initiated. According to Luke, a bitchin' place to work!

Well, Luke finally left my hotel room an hour ago, and I'm awaiting my next assignment. I'm a little depressed about all that has transpired over the last 24 hours so try and give me a call. If I don't hear from you, I'll probably watch the Legend of Bagger Vance, drink Heineken and listen to Richard Marx for the remainder of my days in this insignificant town.

Bored already in LA,


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