Don’t guilt trip me. I’ve been a bad blogger. Trust me, I know and I’ve put myself through, like, what I can only imagine is an OJ Simpson post wife-murdering-and-getting-away-with-it sized guilt trip because I’ve neglected my beautiful blog. But unlike OJ, I’ve been too busy to even stage a police chase as a cry for help. Instead I’ve carried the burden of my guilt like a trooper and now just ask for reconciliation via this super post. Super what? Awesome? Doubt it. But I’ll try to make it super something.

So what have I been busy doing? Well for starters, my life’s work– aka grammin’ like a boss.

Follow me on Instagram ya’ll, @wdupross

Because who doesn’t want to know what coffee mug I drank out of this morning and what dress I’m thinking about maybe purchasing, right?

Whatever. Please just grizzly bear with me. Its a steep and slippery and vain slope I’m on right now via Instagram. But this too shall pass.


I’ve also been spending my time thoroughly dedicated to our gurl and her valiant efforts to prove she is a normal human being. Guys, I’m talking about Britney and, guys, she’s not doing a very good job. Have you turned on the television recently? Have you seen the artist formerly known as Shaved-Head-Britney on this season of the X-FACTOR?! And if not, did you know that its taped live and therefore the artist also formerly known as That-Girl-That-Cheated-On-Justin-Bieber-Senior (aka Justin Timberlake) must speak? LIVE?!

Aside from the part where petite Celine Dion takes the mic and gives me the goosies for her diva singing, Britney is the best thing about that show. But also the scariest.

Pah-reach, Celine Dion Incarnate.

Like I hold my breath every time Britney speaks. Like I’m almost positive there is a medical team standing by on set just for the sole purpose of grabbing Britney for a 5150 if necessary.

P.S. If you don’t know, a ‘5150’ is police dispatch code for “Gurlfrand is bonkers and we’re gunna pick her up and put her in the Cedars Sinai Hospital bonkers wing for a good 3 days.” That’s what happened in 2007– the Year of Our Britney– remember?

Hai der gurl.

But we are just gunna keep saying our prayers that my fellow Louisiana ghoul is keeping-on that straight and narrow (read: her agent turned fiance continues to feed her lines any and all times Brit Brit must speak in the presence of others) and no one lets her near a yellow highlighter ever again.

Uh oh.

Because that’s what happened here right? I mean I remember the days of boredom in Ms. Cassidy’s 7th grade geography class when I would casually turn to my pink highlighter for entertainment. Now I look back fondly on all that time I spent as my own beautician, slowly passing that pink marker through my hair only to later sweat off those iridescent pink streaks during volleyball practice in our non-air-conditioned South Louisiana gym. Obviously, this is what happened to Britney, except her highlighter was yellow and tight-shirt-titties-Simon-Cowell was the one boring her and she didn’t have to later pass out from heat stroke at volleyball practice. Obviously.

I tweeted her the other day to tell her what a good job I thought she was doing but she didn’t respond.

Feeling it.


I’ve also been really busy keeping up with The Ross Family group text. Or as I like to call it– Ross Family Catversations.

It all started when Mom and Dad went to the Eagles/Saints game at the Superdome and Emily and I insisted on cat commentary after MISSYGURL sent us a picture of raw oysters.

Prostitute cats are awesome. No? Well apparently my parents didn’t think so either because they silenced their phones for the remainder of the football game whilst Sistercat and I got this catversation out of our system.

But parental approval aside, good times were had. And sometimes we bring the cats back just for old time sake. Or in my case, just to be an asshole about cold weather (because in, like, Los Angeles where I, like, live there is no cold weather) …


I’ve was also really busy (for four full hours of mah life) giving my everything to Oprah’s Favorite Things. Obviously I’m big on staying up with current affairs– aka Oprah. However, I’ll be the first to admit that I had some real issues with her idea of ‘giving’ this year. First let me say that she chose to give to military families AND FOR THAT I applaud her. However, giving truffle oil and cheese and a mirrored cutting board to military families? OPRAHGURL, give them a years worth of mac and cheese to feed their babies. Its easy. Its convenient. Its not truffle oil.

The satisfaction of 3 minute Easy Mac aside– know what my favorite thing about the whole show was? Oh the part where Oprah kept doing ‘The Oprah.’ Guys, seriously. Over the past few years people have risen to fame because of their Oprah impersonating ability alone. I will even admit to falling into “The Oprah” on occasion because, really, who doesn’t like making toast for their roommate and then delivering said toast with an enthusiastic, “Tommmmm–aaahhhh Caaahhh-rrruise wanted you to have this TOOOHHH—OOOOHHHHSSST.” Duh. Bottom line: her ability to add syllables to words is uncanny and we all need tah rah-spect that.

But whilst watching the latest, ‘Favorite Things’ broadcast I was under the impression that Oprah fancies herself the best ‘Oprah’ impersonator of them all. Its like she is making fun of herself…and at completely inappropriate times during the broadcast. For ex-ham-ple, she was testing out potential favorite things in her favorite things test lab and she ran across a soap dispenser (yes, a soap dispenser) that she was not fond of. Instead of a simple, “no thank you,” Oprah found it best to express herself via a hearty, “I don’t like it, NOOOOOO I DOHHHHOOOONNNN’T” right in one of her Oprah-elves’ ears.

I would find the whole exchange hilarious had anyone but Oprah been a part of it because obviously that person would have been doing an exaggerated Oprah impersonation. But Oprah was a part of it. SHE WAS THE ONE TAKING THE OPRAH IMPERSONATION TOO FAR. So, like, what is she doing with our minds here guys? If the jokes not on Oprah anymore than who is it on? Stedman?

Regardless, we should probably just pretend that we never had this conversation about Oprah inceptioning us because Oprah can do things to people who question her.

So for now…



I’ve also been quite busy campaigning for tour guide of the year.

Mother as well as Mimi and Meg (otha motha and otha sistah, respectively) decided to pop on over to sunnnnay California for a visit and we had a hell of a time, y’all.

Our adventures were Lord of the Rings epic. And aside from actually casting a ring into the depths of Mordor, we just about did it all. However, I have to say that seeing Barbra Streisand at the Hollywood Bowl was probably the highlight. I sang her songs all week leading up to the show and even dressed up as Babs herself (circa Funny Girl) for the actual concert. Basically, I was really fun and not at all annoying to be around.

“Don’t tell me not live, just sit and putter…”

My other favorite part of their visit went down like this:

Weeks before MISSYGURL’s visit I asked her what she wanted to do while she was here and if there were any shows she wanted to check out. I had already lined up tickets for Ellen but was basically telling her I’d make some phone calls (and, yes, I hate myself for just using the term “make some phone calls”) to get her in the audience of whatever show she wanted. So I’m thinking shes going to say Leno or Conan or Chelsea or, hell, maybe even The Talk. Nope.

Wait for it…

Mumsie wanted to go to Young and The Restless.

So  I called one of my Hollywood Fairy Godmothers and got my momma on that set to see her “story,” damnit! She and Mimi toured the whole Y & R world AND even saw TWO scenes being filmed.

And I know you probs hates it when I get sentimental but, fah real, my momma is the biggest proponent of my crazy person dreams in Hollywood Land so to be able to finally give back to her felt good. Besides, making MISSYGURL almost pee her pants with excitement at seeing Victor’s new house was daaaaahhhh best.

We also casually ran into Dog the Bounty Hunter and his walking boobs (aka his wife) at dinner. And it wasn’t even really a highlight. I just wanted an excuse to bring Mrs. Dog the Bounty Hunter’s boobs to your attention. Because I don’t want to believe this is real but I saw it (them?) and it is.

How she walks upright is beyond me.


And then of course I’ve been super busy worrying about Lindsay Lohan? Why? Have you heard of Liz & Dick? OF COURSE YOU HAVE.

Back during my innocence (childhood) I was a BIG FAN of Lilo. But who wasn’t? The Parent Trap, the handshake from the Parent Trap, Mean Girls, every piece of dialogue from Mean Girls– that’s it guys, that’s my life up to age 15. So I was really excited to see Lindsay make this so called “comeback” gracing the small screen as Elizabeth Taylor on the one and only Lifetime Network. Now, to be fair, my expectations were’t TOO high because this is Lifetime we are talking about BUT I did have hope. I mean really, if Britney can comeback from 2007– The Year of Our Britney– then why can’t Lohan?

But it was not to be.

Attempted acting.

Granted Lilo tried. And maybe it wasn’t her! Maybe it was the networks fault! Maybe the timing was just off! I DON’T KNOW! But whatever it was, it just didn’t work. And I figured that out about 5 minutes into it. So what did I do? Naturally I live tweeted the shit outta that junk.

And you know how live tweeting is. Hectic. But on top of the usual pressure of live tweeting I also had to contend with the heat of being at a viewing party at my boss’s house with former boy band-ers, famed reality personalities and TV musical stars alike. So I guess in the excitement of the moment I disregarded the difference between THERE, THEY’RE AND THEIR.

By the time I noticed my folly I had 4 retweets. It was too late. I just had to let that grammatical error go off into the Twitterverse by itself and hope for the best.

Nope. Two online publications picked up the tweet.

I mean this was tragic and awesome at the same time. Tragic because I GRADUATED WITH AN ENGLISH DEGREE. Awesome because Patton Oswalt and I were held in the same twitter-esteem in a somewhat silly magazine.

But over the course of the day I slowly got over it. Obviously I don’t care about grammar so much on my blog so whatevs about a little tweet.

But then something else occurred to me. Does anyone have eyes on Lilo? Multiple news outlets are reporting that she is super torn up about her berating on Twitter. And of course I’ve convinced myself that I’ve now contributed to her self-loathing and if she does anything stupid post-Liz & Dick fallout I am somewhat resposible.

I’m sorry.

Tumultuous day to say the least.


Okay back to the business of being busy but I hope you’ve enjoyed this post– one that the majority of I wrote directly following a Liz & Dick  drinking game last night. So, yeah, pretty tipsy.

Oh and I really do promise to be better about blogging. Truth is I have been writing LOTS lately just not here. Howevs, I solemly swear to give mah blog some TLC.

See yah again rahhheal soon, y’all.

Girl on Girls: How HBO’s ‘Girls’ Cured My Saturday Morning Moral Hangover (Review)

I’ll preface the ridiculousness that is about to unfold just by saying that I know its ridiculous and you should know that for the most part I am ridiculous. In general if you are reading my blag you should just go into every post prepared for the ridic.

You know what else is ridiculous? Lena Dunham and all her success at the ripe age of 26. I wanted so badly to hate her and I really tried to hate her, too. Obviously it was hate (or attempted hate) born out of jealousy over the fact that she is ‘making it’ as the creator, executive producer and star of her own television show, Girls.

Bitter, much? Yes.

HBO Girls Lena Dunham Promotional Poster

But try and fail, I cannot hate Lena. How could I after seeing her show that, in my humble opinion as a 20 something broke yet inspired creative young thing, speaks so well to the generation of 20 something broke yet inspired creative young things?

Quick turn around, right? Let’s rewind.

The hate stopped this weekend and definitely turned into love when I finally sat down and watched Girls. After a Friday night where I spent a good chunk of my rent check on tablespoon sized helpings of cocktails “crafted by mixologists” at a overrated bar that severely underwhelmed but where poor decisions ensued, I spent all of Saturday in bed eating greasy food and nursing both an alcohol gifted hangover as well as a moral hangover.

I’m not saying but I’m saying…think this kind of crowd for my Friday night.

But don’t you guys worry about judging me because I totally got that covered and am already judging myself enough for all of us.

While hiding from greater society on Saturday I decided to watch some online TV until I could fall asleep and start anew on Sunday.

First I watched Dawson’s Creek season four for about five episodes but then cut that short because I couldn’t handle watching Katie Holmes’s mouth move any more (Anybody else? Katie Homes- weirdest talker ever or weirdest talker ever?).

No, I’m sorry, she never stops with the weird talking thing. Just try to get over it.

And then I finally succumbed. All my friends had been talking about how great Girls is for weeks and, out of bitter jealousy, I had been vehemently preaching against the show and Lena Dunham and all her stupid success for weeks. But now, alone and in the privacy of my hangover cave, I decided to watch the first episode and see what the fuss was about. Then I watched the second episode and every episode after that because I could not. stop. watching.

And just like that my moral hangover was abated by my new friends Hannah, Marnie, Jessa and Shoshanna. They comforted me. I’m totes not alone in this 23 year old not always making great decisions thing (True, I guess I sorta already knew that but this was just particularly affirming). It was like someone else was there in my hangover cave telling me, “yo kid, its okay. We are young and we make mistakes but more importantly we are out there doin’ it big.”

AND OF COURSE  of course of course watching Girls inspires one to pull the old SATC game and pick which character we are most like (i.e. I’m a Carrie, you’re a Charlotte and, you slut, are a Miranda).

Don’t worry, I won’t hate.

“I think I am definitely most like Marnie because we have the same put together fashion sense and are really hard workers BUT I do not have her weird commitment issues.”

Herrrrrrro Type-A!

“I’m super friendly and easy to talk to like Shoshanna BUT less naïve.”

Super excited for whats in store for Shoshanna.

“I am such a Jessa! Such a free spirit, creative and out there and can relate to all the other girls at the same time BUT I’m not as lost as she is.”

Have mixed feelings of envy and concern towards Jessa.

“I’m like Hannah in that we are both aspiring writers but OBVIOUSLY I am not flawed with her people pleasing insecurities.”

Yo gurl, don’t let anyone pee on you in the shower.

BUT GALS. I don’t think Girls is really all that much like the SATC game in that you can’t really only be ONE of the girls of Girls. In fact, Girls gets it so good that I am now of the opinion that Hannah, Marnie, Jessa and Soshanna COLLECTIVELY represent the spirit animal of twenty something inspired but broke creative young thangs  across the nation—all trying to find success in their passions AND ALSO trying to have some resemblance of a social life AND ALSO trying to pay rent.

Do you think Spirit Animals are kinda like Patronus (Patroni?)? I do!

I for one think I’m some weird combination of all dem girls. I like to tell myself I have all of their strengths but I know the truth is I probably more likely have all of their flaws. Like I said, its a collective spirit animal smorgasbord. Point is, they’re pretty real-life-ish and pretty relatable-ish and Lena Dunham & co nailed it. Just give it a shot if you haven’t already. Besides, spirit animals are totally in right now.

So by the time I passed out on Saturday it was already infinitely better than my Friday. But you wanna know what was even better? My Sunday morning. Why? Because I dreamed about Adam from Girls.


I’ve always dreamed of writing for and being involved with something great like Hello Giggles and NOW I AM so dreams really do come true. That being said, I now expect Adam from Girls to weld me a table in real life just like he did in this crazy dream. CHECK IT OUT, YA’LL.

Moral of the story- sometimes a gal needs a night eating greasy food and watching Girls by herself. And those kinds of Saturday nights are much better than Friday nights drinking overpriced Thumbelina sized cocktails.

Also clear? No reason to be jealous of Lena. Girlfriend is good at making television and at deceiving me into thinking four characters on television are my real life friends (okay that part is depressing).

Yes. We know. You’re obsessed. I’m obsessed. It happens.

Alright, compadres, you all know this is coming. Let’s just do the damn thing.

The Hunger Games.

There I said it and, yes, I, like the rest of our nation, am obsessed with Suzanne Collins famed Young Adult book series and now major motion event, The Hunger Games. The movie had its big Hollywood premiere Monday night and naturally I’ve just stared at red carpet pictures for the past hour. Also, the movie comes out in a mere 10 days. So I figure now is as good of time as ever to get this over with.

Jennifer Lawrence at Monday night's LA premiere of The Hunger Games. Truly embodying Katniss, the girl on fire. Werks it.

I don’t want to be THAT girl and say, “I totes read the series over a year ago and have been obsessed before Jennifer Lawrence even thought about signing her contract to play our beloved Katniss.” BUT…welcome to my world.

Over the top sass? Too far? Probs.

Let’s rewind a bit…

As previously mentioned, I have A LOT of BIG DREAMS: find a soulmate, have my own fairytale romantical life where I definitely own a sailboat, give back to parents, adopt a puppy, be able to afford gas this week, eventually teach mouth not to speak before brain processes thoughts, but, mostly, just write.

I also dream of owning a cat that I am NOT deathly allergic too like I am with most cats. Maybe I could even find a catten that would agree to go sailing with me on my fancy boat.

What do I want to write?

Well the moving pictuahs, of course! I moved out here to be a screenwriter after all and you’ve already heard me go on and on about how I want to be just like the famed female writers of ‘The Fempire’ and how I want to tell a truly gripping story for the television boxes just like our homie Julian Fellowes.


I had a really weird dream. It was so weird I decided to write it down. I fidgeted with it. It became a short story. Then a long story. Now I have a novel on my hands. And, of late, I so enjoy writing it better than writing any of my screenplays.

SO NOW I dream of not just writing but of writing Young Adult fiction and getting published.

Kinda just like Charlize Theron's character in Young Adult but without the alcoholism and lack of friends.

True Story: Edward Cullen came to fruition via a dream Stephanie Meyer had and I kinda want the same thing to happen to me. Minus the vampires. Minus the werewolves. Minus the weird descriptions of kissing (seriously though I don’t think Stephanie Meyer has ever kissed someone). Basically just plus the multi million dollar franchise.

Remember when we were all so excited about this awkwardness?

A bit less awkward.

I’m talking big dreams.

J.K. Rowling big dreams.

Teach me how to use the force, Oh Wise One.

When I am slumming it in the cashmere trenches FOR SURE the best part of my retail day is I getting to take a break long enough to go to the Barnes and Nobles next door and peruse the Young Adult section. You know, scope out the competition. And we all know who the big competition is right now…The Hunger Games, of course.

If you haven’t read it by now you should just stop being an idiot and swipe that library card.

The first book was great and the movie is going to be great. The second book was great too and the movie will also be great. But the third book and final book in the series…

The 3 books in the series but just ignore that last one.

What the fock happened, Suzanne Collins?

Suzanne Collins avec her boos, Peeta and Gale.

I did not like it, Sam I am, I did not like Mockingjay Eggs and Ham. I just didn’t understand why Suzanne finished the way she did. AND I REALLY DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY THE MOCKINGJAY JUST CAN’T LEARN TO LOVE AND SHOW IT, DAMNIT?!

Obviously Katniss’s battery was taken out when she was just learning to love, too.

If you have read the complete series I am SURE you understand my confusion/pain/feeling of emptiness I felt after finishing Mockingjay. It hurt me in a place deep down inside and I couldn’t just sit around and let it finish THAT way.

So what do I do to relieve my pain? Oh, you know, I just rewrote the ending of the series.

Yup, I Fan Fictioned the shit out of the nonsense that Suzanne Collins called ‘an ending’.

Weird? Yes, but at least I did something about it.

How weird is fanfiction? Well, this image was taken from a story written in over 300,000 words all about the MALE Twilight and Harry Potter stars hooking up. Spoiler alert: Draco ends up pregnant with Jacob Black's child. I promise I did not go anywhere near that far. I just taught the Mockingjay how to love.

So now you know the whole truth about my past life as a fanfiction-er. I owned up to that just to prove to you how obviously DEVOTED I am to this series. Understandably I just about peed myself when I had the opportunity to work with our new favorite trio. Forget awkward Kristin, RPattz and the homo-inclined werewolf. Now its all about Katniss, Gale, and Peeta.

I smellz a love triangle.

Jennifer knows it’s all about her, too, and has recently been quoted about how she is dealing with the level of fame she is about to hit. Apparently her and Kristin Stewart even had a little email exchange about how to deal with the insanity.

I just want to shake her until she is not awkward anymore. You chose to do this celebrity thing. Just own it.

I think Jennifer is doing SUCH a better job. While Kristen is awkward and almost seems embarrassed by her fame but more so by her role, Jennifer says she is taking on the crazy no-life level of fame BECAUSE of the role. She is proud of Katniss. She is sacrificing  A LOT for Katniss. That is so cool. Jennifer is so cool. Just completely graceful and edgy at the same time. When she walked across the VERY crowed room we were working in EVERYONE stopped and stared. There is no doubt in my mind that she was the PERFECT choice for Katniss.

Jennifer is graceful and confident and totally owns it. You go girl.

Josh Hutcherson, too. There could not have been a better Peeta!

Work. It. Peeta.

When I spoke with him I felt as if I was having a conversation with Peeta, himself. Well, same person albeit one little, tiny, small difference that is really just minuscule if you think about it. Again, its just a small detail.

You see…I just imagined Peeta to be…well… bigger.

Don't worry though. The moving pictuahs know how to trick us into not noticing this.

I think Josh may be 5’6 and 120 lbs soaking wet on a good day.

Look closely at Josh's feet. He is standing on a box. It's like Tom Cruise all over again.

Liam Hemsworth, though? Well he is 6’3′ buuuuttttttt he dates Miley Cyrus. Red Flag. Did I actually have a conversation with him or did he just blankly stare at me with an open mouth as I talked and gave him directions? What do you think? Like I said, he is dating Miley Cyrus.

Beauty and brains?! Well, no, not so much.

Regardless, Gale sucks anyway. Peeta and Katniss are all that matter.

Get it, ya'll.

Can’t wait.


Worth it for a Weird Bird

Since I moved out here more than one person has warned me that I shouldn’t let LA change me. Very omnimously too. Like I’m grabbing coffee with Senator Palpatine or I’m about to go on a date with Dracula and I’ll be enticed to the dark side.

Dracula is ALWAYS fun to reference because the love interest is named Wilhelmina. You know, to this day, vampires hit on me just because I share that name. Weird.

Don’t sweat it, peeps.

I’m still just as much the weird bird now as I ever was and you guys should know better than to think that this personality could be changed…or even helped. Just today I googled the traits of Aspergers and I’m pretty sure I’m about 20 years and one major diagnosis too late for any real help.

If anything I’m probably just a bit more all over the place then I was before because, as previously mentioned, I’m super busy trying to make ‘that paper.’ You see, semi-unfortunately, I chose a career in an industry that cost millions and pays millions and makes millions but only if you’re at the top and I’m like below the bottom of the bottom. So besides my job in “the industry,” I also have a job in the business of folding cashmere. Real life retail. But that still doesn’t add up to much money and once a month rent takes most of my earnings THEN also sucks away a piece of my soul.

Rent. Soul sucking Dementor. Same thing.

But it’s cool breeze, one day I’ll be giving my Oscar speech and I’ll say, “people currently below the bottom of the bottom, I was once in your shoes and I know what it’s like, so persevere because I’m mega rich now.” By the way, I’m going to be winning the Oscar for best adapted screenplay OF MY OWN NOVEL.

Set your Tivos for Oscars 2017-ish or maybe 2022-ish…

The Future

I have to say my parents are like THE. BEST. and are totally supportive of me chasing that dream BUT I don’t like the idea of asking them for monies all the time and therefore being a spoiled little bitch.

So that’s why I have more than one job and now my parents and Destiny’s Child can be proud that I am an independent woman and subsequently throw my hands up in the air because I can pay them bills bills bills (too far on the references, I know).

Beyonce and her back up singers call upon all of us to be independent women.

There is only one thing that is pretty uniquely LA that I have allowed to ‘change’ my way of thinking. Life expectancy.

LA has led me to believe I’m at infant status out here and I have a plenty of time to do what I want.

Real Time Self Portrait.

Let me explain.

First things first, if you don’t know, I am not just an enthusiast of the word “ya’ll,” rather the word has been a part of my vernacular from an early age because I’m from the south. Like the south south. Like cajun country south Louisiana south.

My mother recently sent me this picture after a rousing hunt in South Louisiana.

You’re totally just realizing that Britney and I are statemates and now you’re a super green envy monster, aren’t you?

OMG Britney, we totes have matching lily white southern Louisiana asses so that makes us BFFs.

So anyway, in the South big time life things happen at a different pace than they do out here, or that’s what the Facebook tells me anyway.

I’ve been pretty consistently following the same routine. I go to work(s) THEN I go home, shower, get in bed and read myself my favorite bedtime story– my Facebook newsfeed.

I’ve noticed trends in newsfeed happenings.

Sometimes the big news is from a friend back home who is my age: there is an engagement or everyone is congratulating an acquaintance from high school on her pregnancy or a college friend bought their first home.

Sometimes the big news is from a LA friend who is my age: they ran into a B-list celeb in the bathroom, they’re ranting about traffic or they got promoted from assistant of the assistant to just assistant…but usually they’re ranting about traffic.

Stark contrast.

Is bad. We know.

Almost every time I’ve had a conversation with someone out here about what I ultimately want to do they always say, “you’re so young” or “you have plenty of time.”

Meanwhile, I’m like, “dude, have you checked out YOUR Facebook newsfeed lately?!” People my age are making major life decisions and the biggest decision I made today was whether I wanted red or white Two-Buck-Chuck at Trader Joe’s.

Two Dollar Charles.

And while I’m all like congratzies on the minature versions of yourselves and on your promotion from assistant assistant to assistant, alike, I’m also all like huh? There are some major discrepancies between LA and the rest of America and that’s kind of whack.

I was having one particularly anxiety ridden day this past Saturday. Amidst folding and stacking paisley printed capris I was doing some deep thinking and so as not to be disturbed I attempted to disguise my employee status and blend in with the customers by occasionally holding the clothing up against my body as if pondering the fit.


  • Why would anybody buy these pants?
  • Why am I here when my friends are day drinking?
  • Did the dog in that lady’s purse just poop or does she just smell that bad?
  • Why are people I graduated with making $100,000 a year being investment bankers while I’m making $10 an hour trying to explain to a lady that she just isn’t a size 4?
  • Please don’t ask me to help you.
  • Please don’t ask me to help you.
  • Please don’t ask me to help you.

“Excuse me, do you work here?”


After a long pause in which I consider lying or pretending that I don’t speak English I reluctantly answer in the affirmative (in English) and begin to help this red-headed lady and her blonde friend.

The redhead had a LARGE return and was making a LARGE purchase so we were about to spend some quality time together at the register because that kind of transaction takes forevs. As I diligently began ringing up the order the two of them (who were so obviously best friends) started joking around and I think I hear one of them quote an episode of Fox’s freshman hit show, “New Girl.”

So I ask.

“Did you just quote New Girl?”

“No, but it’s funny you should mention that…” the blonde says then makes eye contact with her red-headed bff before looking back at me quizzically.

What? Why is that funny? Are they laughing at me? What are they saying to one another with their eyes? THEY ARE TALKING WITH THEIR EYES!

Am I the one that smells like poop?

“It’s just we have a friend that works on the show,” the redhead chimes in.

“Ugh! I don’t even know your friend but I am SO jealous. I would love to work for Liz Meriwether. You know who Liz Meriwether is, right?”—

I do not pause at this point as normal, socially adjusted humans would.

“Liz Meriwether is AMAZING. She is a young female screenwriting genius who created, writes, and directs New Girl and she has written big studio movies and she is part of this all female power posse group called The Fempire with Diablo Cody and these other two geniuses whose names I can’t remember right now but they are all so successful and I moved out here to be a writer and I want to be JUST like them when I grow up.”

I stop for a breath and subsequently finally give my listeners time to respond and they do so in the form of introducing themselves to me….

As Dana Fox and Lorene Scafaria, the two other ‘geniuses whose names I couldn’t remember.’


"The Fempire"; Dana Fox, Diablo Cody, Liz Meriweather and Lorene Scafaria.

They’re best friends. They’re all writers. They’re all successful.

“I adore them and I’m terrified of them,” said Jason Reitman, who directed “Juno.” “There’s so much talent packed in the group. Writing is such a solitary activity. The idea that they have each other is quite lovely. When I think of the four of them together, writing, of course I’m jealous.” (via The New York Times)

Right you are, Reitman. I too am jealous and in awe and fascinated and inspired.

Think: Juno, Young Adult, United States of Tara, Jennifer’s Body, What Happens In Vegas, Couples Retreat, The Wedding Date, Ned Fox is My Manny, Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist, Seeking a Friend For the End of the World, New Girl, No Strings Attached.

They’re getting things done.

BUT the best part was THEY. WERE. SO. COOL.

We had an extensive conversation about being a female writer trying to make it out here. They asked me questions, answered mine, gave me advice, but, most importantly, encouraged me to keep on truckin.

AND, surprise, they told me I was young– real young getting started out here and it took them 10 years to get where they are today so don’t give up.

Ya’lls. In 10 years some people my age will have 10 year olds.

In the immortal words of Kanye, “That shit cray.”

I often turn to Kanye and Jay for advice.

I will hopefully have a baby then, too– a screenplay I can love and care for and raise to go out into the world of the moving pictuahs, I tell you!

Nobody said following your dreams to Hollywood would be easy. I knew instability would come with the territory. I knew when I came and still know it is going to take me a long time to do this thing.

BUT I think it will be worth it. I bet The Fempire would say its worth it.

At least I know it was worth folding some premium capri pants to get advice from two fourths of arguably the best and most sought after group of female writers in Hwood today.


And I bet one member of the Fempire in particular would say its worth it when you get to go on laser tag dates with a certain recently divorced dream boat.

When I got home from work the day I met Lorene I saw this picture on a gossip site. Apparently this happened mere hours after our interaction. Word is they're dating. I wonder if she told him that she met one of her fangirls earlier in the day? If so, Ashton and I basically know each other. Yeah. Totes.

Oh gurl.


I Dream of Drake

No, but seriously I have dreams about famed rapper and sweater enthusiast, Drake. However, before we get into the business of my unconscious activities let me funform on the basics.

And just FYI yaaaaa’ll, the links included in the post take you to whatever crazy shiz I’m talking about.

Drake's love for sweaters began at a young age.

Drake 101: MFB (my future boyfriend) was born Aubrey Drake Graham to Sandi, a white Jewish teacher and Dennis, a black Memphis-born drummer, in Toronto Canada. After his parents divorced he grew up with his mother and basically he took care of his momma and they were BFFs.

Drake would still visit his father for Memphis summers but, even so, admits to being a momma's boy through and through.

He went to Jewish day school and even had a Bar Mitzvah. Hands down, one of my favorite Drake related activities is imagining what that Bar Mitzvah was like. I like to think it was Rap Superstar themed and Drake ran around screaming the lyrics to Jay-Z’s ‘Big Pimpin’ (I gather ‘Big Pimpin’ came out in 1999, when MFB was 13, therefore probably Bar Mitzvahing). In the Bar Mitzvah of my imaging, tween Drake tells everyone he is going to be the next big thing and his white momma just stands in the corner with her girlfriends shaking her head smiling and saying, “Isn’t he adorable!” while sipping on lemondrop martinis.

"Black Bar Mitvah, Mazel Tov, mogul talk." - Jay-Z. Not so much in the case of Drake's Bar Mitzvah.

In reality, MFB had his Bar Mitzvah at an Italian restaurant and the ‘song of the night’ was Backstreet Boys “I Want it that Way.” I try not to judge him for that, rather, I respect how honestly he shares information.

In his popular song, "Headlines" Drake reminisces on his former self.

In high school Drake decided to have a go at acting and soon after landed the part of Jimmy Brooks on Degrassi: The Next Generation. I remember thinking I had to sneak around my parents to watch Degrassi growing up. The storylines often featured sex, teen pregnancy, drugs, and interracial relationships. My prepubescent self loved it and I now credit Degrassi for trailblazing my love for current TV trash, 16 and Pregnant and Teen Mom (Yeah. Whatever.) but my heart just about broke when some a-hole shot Drake’s character.

Little Drake Dreams Big

BUT DRAKE DIDN’T LET THAT GET HIM DOWN, NO. Ever the optimist, Drake spent the remainder of his acting career in a wheelchair and on the side started working on his next dream, a Rap Superstar themed LIFE.

Drake and I share a love for owls. Him because it is OVO's mascot, me because of my past life as a pretty pretty princess (it was also my sorority's mascot).

Drake and friends (later October’s Very Own, Drake’s Recording Team) started putting their stuff up on Myspace. People started listening. Lil Wayne called and asked Drake to join him on tour. Wait what?! Yeah. It’s actually a little bit more complicated than that but basically that’s what happened. Billboard claims Drake was the focus of one of the “biggest bidding wars ever” to be signed.

H.O.V. and Weezy F both have mad love for Drizzy.

I like to think of Lil Wayne and Jay Z wine and dining Drake to woo him to their labels, Young Money and Roc Nation respectively. CAN. YOU. EVEN. IMAGINE.? Try. Its a ridiculously good time imagining Jay-Z trying to get something he wants by way of wooing. I have a hard time telling even imaginary Jay Z no, how did Drake do it in real-life?

Don't feel too bad for Jay. He still gets to wine and dine Kanye.

Ultimately, the not-so-hood Jewish Canadian formerly known as “Wheelchair Jimmy” of teen soap fame signed with and became the protege of Hollygrove born former Hot Boy, Lil Wayne, and the rest is history. Now he is a platinum selling Cash Money soldier and I’m in love with him.

Drake hangs out with BFF, Lil Wayne (via

As previously mentioned, I dream of Drake.  In the dreams I was his personal assistant and I was madly in love with him but he was oblivious to it so I just went about catering to his every want and need hoping for Dream Drake to one day see me as more than just his PA.

Unfortunately, those wants and needs involved getting girls to his dressing room before shows and drafting texts to his former fling, Rihanna. Talk about heartbreaking. Just take it from me, waking up to a dream where the man of your dreams has you write poetic love texts to his fellow superstar and hot short wearing woman of his dreams, sucks (Dream Drake dreams of Dream Rihanna in my dreams..that’s got to be some sort of inception bullshit). Even if I got a badass makeover ala Sandy in Grease I still wouldn’t be able to touch Rihanna’s badass-ness with a ten foot pole.

They could have made a great companion/power baby friend for Blue Ivy.

In reality, Drake and Rihanna didn’t work out. Apparently they got together for a short time in 2010…a very short time. He once told the New York Times that he felt like he was her “pawn” and that she showed him some “quality time” then peaced. It is even said that she is the subject of his second verse in “Fireworks”– his collab with Alicia Keys that should so obviously have been originally recorded with Florence of Florence and the Machine or as I like to call her “Mother Nature” because when she sings animals come running, grass grows in landfills, and I feel like Littlefoot when he first sees the Great Valley. So natural. So magical. I cried a little bit when I saw Florence and Drake perform Fireworks together.

Florence joins Drake for "Fireworks" at a London performance AKA Mother Nature sings to Drake, heals his heartbreak.


Like I said he wrote a song about the Rihanna situation and got his feelings out. She provided a rebuttle by way of throwing shade with Katy Perry (obviously RiRi does in fact need a Rude Boy to match her own rudeness and Drake is not at all rude). So now we can all move on and just be reminded about what could have been by watching this.

But can we all move on?

And more importantly, Drake, can you move on?…to me? Your lovelorn personal assistant?  Could you learn to love me?

MFB looks so good in a Tux.

An Open Letter to MFB:


Rihanna missed out but I don’t want to. I have mad respect for your multicultural and multinational upbringing. I like the fact that you are a quadruple threat…rapper, singer, actor, and sweater enthusiast. And those people that hate on your past as Wheelchair Jimmy?! They just need to realize that the reason your arms look so good in your sweaters is because of all that wheelchair stuntin’ you did in the Degrassi heydey. I also respect that the only guns you carry are the previously mentioned cashmere clothed biceps. You don’t get yourself into trouble and that is THE BEST.

Drake loves his sweaters. I love his sweaters too.

“Drake, to GQ, on whether or not he has a favorite sweater: Yes, I do. It’s a toss-up between three sweaters. I’d say one would be obviously the OVO Owl Sweater. I can wear it repetitively and no one calls me out on it. I have a cashmere Hermes sweater that I love. Lastly, any of my Missoni sweaters. I don’t give a fuck what anybody says about my Missoni sweaters! Fuck you, if you don’t like my sweater! [Editor’s note: A middle-aged couple sitting next to us sharply turn their heads.] It’s funny because people only talk about me and sweaters because I don’t give them anything else to talk about. I live in Canada, so any dirt I do you’ll never see because we don’t have the paparazzi up there! It’s the stupidest thing, man, but I’ll embrace it. Hopefully Missoni hollers at me and we get a sweater line popping!” Read More

Like I said and like you said, Drake, you don’t get yourself into trouble and sweaters are awesome. Obviously we already have things in common. And, yes, I am just a suburban bred white girl from South Louisiana trying to ‘make it’ in the big city but aren’t we all?

What I mean by that is I think my attraction to you, Drake, comes from our shared dreams. I’m not talking about the ones where I’m a personal assistant to a rap superstar, I’m talking the ones where you left your suburban life behind, moved to the big city, put yourself out on the line and are going for it. I like that you dreamed you could become whatever you wanted and then you did it, you became a rapper regardless of the previously mentioned lack of thug life.

Despite what you might thing, I also lacked thug life as a child.

But most importantly I like your honesty. I like how you told us about your embarrassing Bar Mitzvah night song of choice and how you own up to your somewhat silly role (roll?) in Degrassi and how you told us all about your emotions for RiRi. And I really like how you said this…

I wish that we lived in a time and a generation where people would stop viewing my honesty as overly emotional. People always act like I spend my life crying in a dark room. I don’t, I’m good. I’m a man. I want to be remembered as an artist that gave you a piece of me, as opposed to some surface bullshit. I don’t think people realize that we die, we leave here, and either they forget about you or remember you. And how they remember you is up to you. I just want to be remembered as a poet that was open and honest because I wake up every morning and I’m me. Read More 

I for one will remember you as that honest poet, Drakespeare.

GQ Drake (via

Finally, in that same interview GQ also asked you who your ideal girl is and you said.

She is very funny, very supportive, understands that right now I’m trying to build with somebody. The ideal girl is driven, working on something other than modeling or being a singer…” Read More

Now that’s great and all but I think you could have answered more simply. So let’s try again. Who is your ideal girl, Drake? I am. That’s right, if you let me here’s what I’ll do, I’ll take care of you.

And I promise I’m not crazy…

Not this crazy anyway. This girl ACTUALLY tattooed Drake's name to her FOREHEAD.

Call me.