In which I FINALLY GOT A JOB AMEN HALLELUJAH FUCKING MY GOD. I was seriously beginning to think that I was going to have to start working at some "hip" LA eatery where the proprietor looks like a low-rent Melissa Manchester and wears lingerie and doesn't pay minorities and talks about cumin all the live long day.Or, that I was going to end up at some dumpy diner where the owner is fucking worthless and makes bad jokes and very obviously lives in The Valley because HIS HAIR, and should really only wear shirts with a blue collar because seriously. And then at some point I'd have to dress up as some nightmare kitschy cliche-of-a-waitress named, oh, let's just call her LaVOYne, and speak with a not-found-in-nature/humanity/the galaxy/New York-or-any-surrounding-areas accent and basically induce hatred and strokes in EVERYONE IN ALL THE WORLD. ThankHEAVENfully, I didn't have to do either of those things. But the moral of the story is: FINDING A JOB IN LOS ANGELES BITES THE BIG ONE. "THE BIG ONE" being "A GIGANTIC, PHALLIC-SHAPED TURD." But now that I am actually employed and am part of The Establishment, I ♥ The City Of Angels. Move over, Glen. 'Cause this is my LA now! Bitch. Also: You're creepy. Also: Paula Poundstone called; she wants HER ENTIRE WARDROBE BACK. Also: I finally made it to Venice Beach. It was gross and smelled of incense, urine, and overly ripe-vagrant. YOU CAN HAVE IT.
Where was I? Oh, right. Something no one cares about except me: my job. I actually have to take the subway downtown to get there, like Some Kind Of Adult! Okay, here it's called The Metro, but that's boring and mundane, so subway it is! And basically, my life is now a lot like this:
And OF COURSE I have to relate it to a TV program from the 90s. Would you expect anything less?
In terms of Business Casual Office Attire, I've been attempting to bring some Season 2 Brenda Walsh Menswear Realness. But I'm deluding myself because NO ONE will ever look as GLORIOUS as she did in this type of ensemble. NO. ONE. Also: pretty, pretty hair. Moving on.
What I'm trying to say, to all -27 of you (not including my Imaginary Friends...oh, who am I kidding? They don't read this dreck, either) is that eventually, once I get used to my new schedule (meaning, no more drinking boxed wine and mainlining Nutella 'til the break of dawn), I should be able to get back into Blogging Mode. I know! Aren't you so beyond excited that you're doing this right now:
Where was I? Oh, right. Something no one cares about except me: my job. I actually have to take the subway downtown to get there, like Some Kind Of Adult! Okay, here it's called The Metro, but that's boring and mundane, so subway it is! And basically, my life is now a lot like this:
In terms of Business Casual Office Attire, I've been attempting to bring some Season 2 Brenda Walsh Menswear Realness. But I'm deluding myself because NO ONE will ever look as GLORIOUS as she did in this type of ensemble. NO. ONE. Also: pretty, pretty hair. Moving on.
What I'm trying to say, to all -27 of you (not including my Imaginary Friends...oh, who am I kidding? They don't read this dreck, either) is that eventually, once I get used to my new schedule (meaning, no more drinking boxed wine and mainlining Nutella 'til the break of dawn), I should be able to get back into Blogging Mode. I know! Aren't you so beyond excited that you're doing this right now:
(Sorry; my Homeslice For Life Benjamin [Hi, Benjamin!] sent me this yesterday along with the news that he will be making a trek down to LA from San Francisco for a visit in a few weeks [why do you care about this? You don't.], and now I need to insert it into as many of my life settings as possible. Basically, this will be queued-up on my phone at all times, so that I can use it as a reaction to whatever good news comes my way. Also: SHARON NEEDLES 4EVA.)
For now, I'll leave you with the following: the erstwhile Steve SAUNders...wait for it...WILL BE DOING CHIPPENDALES IN VEGAS THIS SUMMER CHRIST ALMIGHTY THIS IS YOUR CUE TO LAUNCH YOURSELF INTO OUTER-OUTER SPACE. I mean. I guess there's nothing wrong with it, really. No. You know what? There IS something wrong with it. Specifically, this:
ALL OF THIS. SWEET SHIT. I just...I can't. No. I CANNOT. WHAT YEAR IS IT? THE GUY ON THE FAR LEFT APPARENTLY CAME HERE IN HIS DELOREAN DMC-12 FROM TOTAL REQUEST LIVE IN 1999. WHY, IAN ZIERING, WHY????? Remember in my "Slumber Party" recap, where I actually praised Mr. Ziering for apparently not aging since the year 2000 (WHEN THE GUY ON THE LEFT IN THE PICTURE ABOVE WAS IN A SEVENTEENTH-TIER BOY BAND OUT OF ORLANDO CALLED, LIKE, O-FACE OR SOMETHING) and being handsome, etc.? Well, I take it back. ALL OF IT BACK.
Mostly because in this picture, it looks as though he's taking an especially painful grumper while executing an overhead press. This series of photos, by the way, are of Ian preparing for the aforementioned Chippendales gig with a little CrossFit.
Okay, fine. He still has a nice smile. And I mean, he's fit blah blah PUT YOUR STEVE SAUNDERS SPECIAL BACK ON I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD SAY THAT blah. He looks...good. I mean, dude's pushing 50.
And speaking of The Steve SAUNders Special, I think Ian will do juuuuust fine with the tacky little collar-and-bow-tie (plus cuffs!) that is the standard Chippendales uniform. Although, I really think they should allow him to remove the tie, slap on a nape-length frizzy wiglet, and relive his curly-mulleted "youth." I'm sure there will be housewives in the audience who will get off on a little Steve "Lace-Front" SAUNders-action.
So, I guess I'll be back. Soon, I hope. The remaining episodes of Season 1 have all been transcribed; it's just a matter of finding the time to come here and put my brilliance and humor to good use. And by "brilliance" and "humor" I of course mean "durrrrrrrr" and "I am basically a watered down version of Jack and Sky combined, which kind of makes me want to drown myself in a puddle of my own vomit, tears, and fecal matter."
See you on the flip side! Whatever that means.
(Images via Google and Too Fab, with my Mad Microsoft Paint SkillZ shining through on the last picture, obvs.)
