Welcome to Daily Dose of Dynamite

My neighbors are banging.

2010-02-08T19:49:00.001-08:00

Me playing around with my web cam for the first time turned into discovering someone else was having an even better time.
Woo.

My Little Pony Trailer

2009-11-29T19:07:00.000-08:00

Dont f*** with My Little Pony.

Interviews for Sarah Palin's "Going Rogue"

2009-11-29T18:47:00.000-08:00

It's good to know that middle america is out there supporting Palin's literature and can justify why. Oh..wait...

Video Blogging is a real good time.

2009-11-24T11:17:00.000-08:00

Looks like I got a computer that doesn't overheat and shut down in my lap every 15 minutes. Time to celebrate! Not lifting up my computer and frantically blowing on it to save it from dying anymore feels so unnatural. And so right. Now that I have proper equipment, 'dis is going be off the chiz-aiiin.

Here's some fun from one of last week's events; a fashion show to benefit the rest of the world, how's that for a change?

Free At Last !

2009-10-12T13:50:00.001-07:00

Ahh! Last time I blogged was July 21st? BALLS. It's time I get to it. If anyone is out there, I will be on top of this more! I got caught up, uh, "working". Okay, not really...if you go back to a previous post, I lamented on the fact I sold my Mac on Craigslist.

Cue music : 'It's hard out here for a pimp.'

So I'll go ahead and make it the computer's fault. I managed to get an"interim" from my younger brother (you know you're kicking ass when...) which overheats after roughly 15 minutes of solid internet usage. Alas, a new and shiny Mac is in my future. And mindless rants on a webcam await! And I promise not to go all ijustine on you, and talk just to talk. If you don't know who she is- google, man. And remember that anyone...yes anyone can put web videos up and attract a following because they have boobs.

So, to catch you up on the stories of a starving artist- I think this is a good segway to talk about my most recent "JOB" in the world of entertainment pursuits. As some of you know, and don't know, I got a Real Job. No auditions, no freelance, like I'm in a desk everyday on someone else's watch, job. I liked the idea of making waves in the production world, wearing stilletos to meetings at Morton's, and a paycheck that happily showed up in my hand week to week. So, as the industry slowed I ventured into the corporate world feeling confident, ready for a change of pace and blazers with shoulder pads.

After my second interview with Emilio Ferrari outside his over spacious Hollywood Hills home, I was still a leetle hesistant. He needed an assistant, and clearly a better name, but it seemed promising with talk of big films in production and names being dropped like it was hawt. To give you a better idea of Emilio Ferrari, it's important you get the proper visual.

Think 5'6, mushroom shaped, beady eyes hidden behind shaded glasses (always worn indoors) with a face that resembled a baby turtle, with a Napoleon complex.

See: http://www.hotchickswithdouchebags.com/ for an idea. Here's an idea, more glammed up though....

These are just facts people. Now, put him in a big cold empty home with two large spastic, jumpy, smelly dogs, a talking parrot, two piranhas and a resident rat. And the goldfish if you want to include them, as I was under instruction to feed the piranha 50 of them every Monday/Thursday. Side note: owning piranha in California is illegal, not to mention, incredibly creepy.

Thus, the Stilleto Wearing Powerhouse making deals with EP's over filet mignon was far from the truth of my situation. Emilio's voice would boom down the hall, forcing both his other assistant and myself into fearful action. The entire day would be filled with him raging out to some victim on the end of the phone line, as we would distinguish who it was directed to and how to cope with the aftermath. The energy of the house began to seep into my soul.

I eventually come to find out, Emilio Ferrari, well- wasn't.

His name was in fact made up (gasp), along with his origin of descent/race, friends, and everything else I came to find out. If you're going to make up your name, shouldn't you at least make it sound...well, like it wasn't made up? I suppose the irony of all this was that he was making deals, pushing big numbers around, and had respected people call him. How was this possible? Hello Hollywood: you glamorous facade you.

Into week 4, and suffering yet another pirhana feeding, my boyfriend tells me he is leaving for the most epic music festival in Yosemite National Park. We had agreed I wouldn't be going because of work, but as he was entering land-o-bliss, I realized I had to make this happen. Leaving the office at 6pm after birthing puppies (what? of course it's true), I was in my car by 8pm headed to find one person within 5,000 individuals. With no cell phone service. Go team.

Through his obsessive directions and "front porch lamp" shining bright outside of the tent, I was united him. And so I entered a world of people from all walks, all places jamming out together under the stars to a variety of 800 odd DJs. It was heaven. A lake that glowed blue green was centered next to one of the stages in between the towering trees, while men and women frolicked, jumping off the shores, giggling, skipping along and relaxing in a sea of love......

My fears melted, my heart soared and I felt what it was to LIVE. I couldn't tear myself away from the fun until 8pm that Sunday evening, and a trip that should have taken 6 hours to return to LA, took about 14 hours. Suppose that is what happens after 48 hours of dance and no sleep. A shredded tire, dead battery (twice) and a long nap in the AM/PM parking lot (because I am classy like that), resulted in me barely returning on time for Monday's workday.

(Sophia poor thing, ran over something she didn't like on the highway, and it hurt her tire very badly- see above right, and above center, before I tried to drive home with no sleep or shower to speak of).

So I was running late. Emilio was pissed. Rightfully so. Probably because he would never know the greatness that I experienced and because the piranha were left to have a late lunch. So, to make a long story short: the skies opened up, and I saw my future!! Naw, I'm dramatic, but I realized it wasn't the right fit (duh), and I knew what was all along. Why have I ever questioned my gut instincts? They always turn out right. This is getting very After-School-Special-y.

(nice wheels, maaaan)

So my dear friends, the job is no longer and I am pursuing my own goals, not someone else's. I've never felt better, or been more happy, as the music festival magic opened my eyes. And I'll never feed another goldfish to a Piranha as long as I live so help me God.

(Imagine feeding live goldfish to him. This (was) my life.)

ps- My new Mac is coming TOMORROW. GET ready for insanity web videos. Or just me being bored and putting weird shananigans on my blog for you to watch. Either way, it'll be a good time.

Go forth and be happy!

The Homeless in Los Angeles are Posers

2009-07-21T08:48:00.000-07:00

I had a 19 year old who ran away from his suburban home in new Nikes ask me for bus fare last night at the local ARCO gas station. I looked at my busted car, and back at him, and said to him straight in the eye, “You probably have a lot more money than I do,” and continued pumping my gas. He looked at my busted car, missing a license plate and smiled.

He moved closer. I looked up. “Well can you slide me your number?”

Where am I to slide something? I'm not sliding anything on any bacteria infested surface. I ask him how old he is, and he replies, “19."

I ask him if he likes older women, if he can handle them. He nods.

He moves closer, as I see a shiny new ipod stuffed in his pocket. He then confesses, the girl he’s with is around the corner, and he has to use my cell phone to call another girl who he told to meet him at the ARCO gas station, not to. He doesn’t want to be “caught.” Two ladies meet up at the ARCO for one guy. It's bound to get good. I am tempted to stick around and see what these lassies are all about.

You deserve to be caught, I said. And you’re also a whore.

He looks like someone just killed his dog, and asks me if he can pay me a dollar to use my phone. I contemplate, thinking this could be a money making opportunity, and the irony he is now offering me money. I came to, and told him again to stop whoring around. And go back to his mother. She is starting to worry.

This is my life.

2009-06-28T15:06:00.000-07:00

So, doing my submissions today, I am innundated by the amount of absurd roles being casted. I'm sitting here reevaluating my very whisp of a career, and wondering:

Do people really go out for this stuff?

The first: A Jack in The Box commercial. And this is the breakdown.

Bowl Haircut People

Jack in the Box

Commercial

scale shoot and residuals
$1500 bump for cutting hair / Male or Female / All Ethnicities / 20 - 50
This spot is about misguided Jack in the Box employees who all get their hair cut into
"Bowl Haircuts" THEY WILL SHOOT THEM GETTING THE HAIRCUT! Everyone cast
MUST BE WILLING TO HAVE THEIR HAIR CUT INTO THIS "BOWL HAIRSTYLE"
Please see the reference photo. (Yes, it will be as extreme as the photo.) I am open to
men who are balding also...
I

1500 bump for the haircut? You couldnt possibly pay me enough to cut my hair for a commercial to
that of a twisted lesbian-man-child creation of a haircut. Which, you will most likely be flashed
across the frame for a mere micro second. And then what.. you are left to deal with the rest of
auditions you actually don't land because of it?

My favorite is that they are "open" to take balding men. If you are balding, doesn't that mean you
lack hair, so how would one actually cut it, if there is so very little to cut? Or some guy is like,
"To hell with it, looks like I'm balding, lets take the rest off into a creepy bowl cut!"

Here are a few I also found amusing. The ultimate Woman-Wife!

Woman/Wife

Lead / Female / All Ethnicities / 25 - 32 / Nudity / Sexual Situations /
A fun-loving and beautiful young housewife that loves being married,

but also loves doing her "sex and the city" thing on the weekends with her girlfriends.

Talk about depth. Good thing those classes got me to dig into emotionally deep places.

Oh, and you have to get naked.

Is this what men think woman are like? We just do our "sex in the city" thing on the weekend?

What does that even mean:

We drink cosmos and devuldge our rhetorical men rants over a sex column and buy Vogue

instead of dinner?

And my favorite: A leetle ex girlfriend to a ....clown? Huh? Pays 150! Hop on it!!

The excessive exclamation marks lead me to think it is less credible.

That, or ah, just the breakdown itself:

Little Person

Other / Female / All Ethnicities / 18 - 28
In need of a little person NO TALLER THAN 4'6" to play an exgirlfriend to a clown on a

hidden camera show for MTV!!! HALF DAYS WORK!!!!!! $150 CASH!!!!!!

Very quick only a couple hours!!!!

Sweet. This is my life.

The Show.

2009-06-22T21:31:00.000-07:00

Hello Webasphere Interspace!

It's been a day. Or a couple of months to be precise. Sorry about the lapse, to my 10 readers...I know. You have been craving stories of scandal and I have been lacking!

I have found myself in the most quaint coffee shop in the city, complete with the sound of trickling water over the stone elephant carving to my left sipping my shot of espresso. Charles Mingus' jazz notes resonate in my headphones. To my right, two men clad in plaid and black rimmed glasses pitch ideas for their next screenplay. Something to do with selling G.I Joes on

Ebay.

Nothing says update your blog more than this moment. I'm in the zone, man.

Very exciting things to report:

The first is my new radio show, The Art of Living Magazine. I am hosting with the fabulous and ever-so-sassy Olivia Wilder, http://www.blogtalkradio.com/olivia.

If you look to the right of this here blog, you will see a player in which you can listen from. Last night we debuted the show. Olivia told me I needed to invest in a proper headset, and learn about Skype. So I run to Best Buy, come home, pour myself a glass of cab, and sit down to do our show via the lamest 1990 headset I've ever seen. Next thing I know I'm hearing two versions, one delayed, and trying to carry on a conversation and sound like I'm not sweating. Not a technial wizard. I need help. After that got worked out, I was pleased with the contributors we have on board and the show, plainly put, just kicked some ass.

To elaborate, every week we will have a different "umbrella" topic. Say fashion/interior design, the next wine, the next food/chefs. We will have regular contributors dishing every week. Here's a lil' info bout each:

Jeff Siegel: "The Wine Curmudgeon." Jeff will phone in and tell about what he will be talking about on upcoming shows, namely good wine values. http://www.winecurmudgeon.com/my_weblog/ THIS SITE IS GREAT FOR ANYONE LOOKING FOR GOOD WINE BUYS.

Jody Green: Jody is the Editorial Director of www.satellite-magonline.com, with many years experience in style, fashion, decor, and more. http://www.satellite-magonline.com

Adam Gertler: Adam is the affable host of Food network's "Will Work For Food," and former semi-finalist on "The Next Food Network Star" You will love his gregarious, fun manner, and his culinary skills. Adam will join us on June 28th, sharing his adventures and finds in Cuba, where he will be this week.http://www.adamgertler.com

Jen Kober: Jen is a hilarious comedienne from Louisianna, who loves to cook, eat, and make us laugh. She will be giving us mouth-watering reports from the road. http://www.jenkober.com

Rick Bakas: Rick created and managed brands for 8 years for Nike, transitioned into the wine business, where he has been working in sales and marketing since 2003. He will be talking about wine/food pairings, and more. http://www.rickbakas.com

Andrea Schroder: Andrea is the lovely and talented contestant from Bravo's "Top Design," season 2, where she made it through 8 weeks of competing among a field of 13 top designers. She will be talking home design, decor, style, and more. http://www.andreadschroder.com

Scott Huver and/or Margi Blash: Scott works as a freelance writer-reporter with various entertainment magazines and websites, primarily People Magazine. Other regular clients include TV Guide, Los Angeles Confidential, Giant Magazine, Hollywood.com, Fandango.com and ComingSoon.net. Scott will be contributing in the field of Entertainment, and has no website.

Margi Blash: Margi is the go-to reporter for smart, stylish and spunky coverage - from star-studded red carpets, celebrity sit-downs, the latest fashions and lifestyle trends, adventurous getaways, water-cooler topical issues to simply making your way in the world. http://www.margiblash.com

Stacy Small: Elite Travel International: Stacy specializes in high-end travel. Her company is run by a new generation of luxury travel consultants who specialize in evaluating, personalizing, and planning client's travel experiences based on their own personal knowledge and understanding of luxury travel.http://www.elitetravelinternational.com

Whew. So , I'll be the one willing to take these ideas and live it up for the adventure and report back to you. Now, more importantly, lets find a way to get into this picture:

Age.

2009-04-30T17:40:00.001-07:00

Aging is strange. Feels like everyone wants to avoid it, but this year I couldn't have been more ecstatic to age another 365th day. I can officially round up to 30. I suppose I was more than ready to exit 25 and welcome adulthood with open arms.

I began acting like an adult by going to Six Flags. More than anything, I decided that people watching may be the best attraction at Six Flags. My attention was held by a dude who continued to yell "ohh yeeeaaaah, wooooo, oh yeeeeeeah!" at the top of his lungs throwing his arms up with his hands in fists as he walked behind his lady in red. He wasn't yelling to anyone, just himself. And this was well after the ride had ended. In fact, it was far away from any of the rides. I couldn't help but contemplate what he did for a living. If he can make it, this must indeed be Amurica. And by golly, I can make it to. *golf claps*

I looked upon with enthusiasm as if he was there for my entertainment, as my heart palipations returned to a normal steady beat. It was called Goliath for a reason, I tell you.

I figured I was a thrill seeker, but sweet baby Jesus, I forgot how terrifying those rides were. In fact, I think my favorite was the bumper cars if I'm going to be totally honest with you. After I figured out how the hell you strap yourself

in with some assistance,

I realized I could also drive backwards. This gave me an advantage to suerve around any unforseen bumping and un-savvy drivers. Which, I may add, there were plenty.

For the next ride, I convinced my boyfriend we would take a nice slow log ride. Log Jammer, yes, this ride is going to be nice. I had a vague recollection of enjoying this a summer back and it's peaceful glide. No. It has the word "jammer" in it for a reason. It jams. It doesn't saunter or sway. Awesome sign also. Really?

So unknowingly, we jammed down a waterfall and then I realized why there was no line and no one else in sight. It was 60 degrees and cloudy, and we were on a 'soak you ride.' I ended up looking like a drowned rat, with an annoyed boyfriend who expected something a bit more "peaceful and dry."

I have always half-dreaded birthdays. It is that day you have to acknowledge even if you don't feel like it. You remember who doesn't call and act like it didn't matter to you, but it really did, then you end up sulking because it is your birthday and you shouldn't be sulking over something so silly and ridiculous, they were probably just busy and forgot. Anyyyywayyy............

That didn't happen this year. I was so happy to be leaving the shit storm that was 25 I welcomed the opportunity to celebrate with open arms and gave no excuses to hold back. Nothing was stopping this party train. And it was honestly the best day ever. Goodbye you 25th year, hello you gorgeous and fabulous 26th. Lets do this. Adulthood is fun.

A moment of clarity.

2009-04-22T02:29:00.001-07:00

Do you ever have moments when you start to look at something generally, then it becomes much more specific upon your examination?

I'll start with my apartment. I'll be like, "Damn, I should clean this is borderline disgusting". And so I will finally give in and start. The more I begin to clean, the more I am looking in the corners of the floor seeing dustand hair and things I never saw. As I'm cleaning, I'm

thinking, "Well thank God I started doing this, wh...what is that?"

That happened tonight. But with life. And decisions. And relationships. I

realized how much I have sacrificed in being so consumed everyday with pushing myself, keeping going, and sometimes just survival. Why do I begin these rants at 2:30 am? Ay.

It is just interesting to start seeing things specifically. And to start seeing people specifically. No one is general. Not one thing is general. I take such pleasure in making lame small conversation with my buddy at the 7-11, people at Wells Fargo (especially the

parking attendant who also does night time gigs as DJ Robin), and the parking guy at Kinkos who laughs at my driving. The days I start talking or more importantly, listening and observing, I see there is so much more to it than what meets the eye.

It's fascinating once you start to look directly into someone's eyes, whether stranger or friend, and see they have a story and a world, and I don't want to miss it anymore.

So I found some Post Secrets that go along with this concept. For those of you who

aren't familiar, http://postsecret.blogspot.com/ is a blog where postcards are put up, but people

send in a postcard to this anonymous address with their secret on it. I find a whole lotta joy every Sunday morning when new ones are posted. Here are the few that struck me tonight.

So lets stop being stuck in our silly worlds and actually connect......

Decisions Decisions.

2009-04-16T23:07:00.000-07:00

I made some big decisions today.

I joined twitter.

If the internet is the new frontier I want to be involved. So I venture to play the odds. And this video made me rethink my viewpoint on it. Do we really have the power as individuals to relay media to the world just as well the news conglomerates do?

Stream videos at Ustream

So, whatever, tweet me @ haelyscomet.

The second decision has an upside and a downside:

I will no longer hosting LA Talk Radio's morning show with the lovely Sam *cue sigh sound bite*, but will be doing my own weekly show TBA very soon *cue cheering sound bite*.

We both realized quickly into the show that although we hit it off and had a fantastical time, there were some things I'm just not totally comfortable with discussing over the air. Sex talk a la Sex in the City with a martini in hand, sure. Over the air in the morning, not my gig.

Sure, the beauty of internet radio is the ability to say whatever, whenever you want. But I just felt this gut thing twist in the core of my being when we're discussing things that, well, shouldn't be discussed over breakfast. It wasn't about who I thought was "listening" or about being "nervous", it's just plain and simple I'm not cut out to be the female Howard Stern. Nor do I want to be.

It's funny, I remember looking back at a comment one of my first acting teachers told me about moving to LA. "You will be tested in anything and everything. You will have to define specific boundaries for what you will/won't do, some that you haven't even considered before."

Man, was she right. This is one of the moments a great opportunity was presented and I am going to have to walk away, because in the end, I know it just isn't me. You can't force something to be that doesn't jive with who I am. So I will be considering what I want to do with the weekly show and really want it to be focused on new music/musicians as well as talk radio and entertaining rant.

I must say, I really admire my co-host Sam. He is not only an extremely good time, and got me hooked on the concept of daily coffee intake to increase productivity, but he believed in me enough to give me this opportunity in a medium I had never before encountered. He started the station from scratch and created something out of nothing. I look forward to showing up on the morning show every now and again to get my Sam fix. Aw yeah.

Umm, I have watched more Family Guy tonight than is typically healthy for a woman, and it's time for bed.

Thanks to my friends and fam who tuned in. Stay tuned for what is to come.

http://www.latalkradio.com/Haely.php

To listen to a few shows from this week:

http://www.latalkradio.com/Sam_Haely.php

And from last week:

http://www.latalkradio.com/Sam.php

Scroll down to see a list in the Archive.

Religion, Radio and Random.

2009-04-10T10:49:00.000-07:00

Food is what gets me out of bed. When it comes down to it, food is the fire under my ass. I am a 25 year old female trapped in a 8 year old boy.

I'd look like this:

And dance like this:

The point being, today I awoke with the thought of a lovely toasted cinnamon raisin bagel toasted with strawberry cream cheese frolicking through my thoughts. I pulled in, ran up to the door and a handwritten said said : CLOSED for passover. What, you can't you serve bagels even for an hour? Something about levin bread, eh? I carried on to yet another bagel establishment and it too was closed. Fine! I will settle on Coffee Bean and a bad-for-your-hips pastry. And again, closed. Why I outta...

I get it: it's LA, everyone's Jewish (or says they are). Ok I'm probably better off.

In other news: you all MUST tune in to www.latalkradio.com next week (Channel 1) as I will be back and co-hosting with Sam in the morning 9-11am.

http://www.latalkradio.com/live.shtml

I would love to hear what YOU want to hear on the radio. I don't want morning show cliche yabber, but interesting thought provoking stuff-you-never-thought- you'd- get content. Isn't that the point of internet radio? Watch out Howard Stern. So email me at haewhite@gmail.com, if you have ideas of what you want in a morning show while you are in your cubicle dreaming of Maui, mai tais, men in suits, multiple orgasms and mint milanos (ok, that's just me I guess).

Lastly, you shouldn't be allowed to watch movies if you can't figure out how to open the envelope. I was actually paid to do this. It's a mad, mad world.

To Tweet or Not to Tweet- Is that the question?

2009-04-01T14:04:00.000-07:00

Me vs. Twitter

So that we are all on the same page here, TWITTER is:

A social networking and micro blogging service that enables its users to send and read other users' updates known as tweets. Tweets are text-based posts of up to 140 characters in length. Updates are displayed on the user's profile page and delivered to other users who have signed up to receive them.

So, another social networking site to invade my incredibly fascinating fabulous life with hours of wasted time and regret? I can pass on tweeting it to strangers in the stratosphere. This exemplifies my feelings:

You could say I have been adamantly against Twitter for a while now. I suppose it originated the moment I heard someone refer "tweet" as a form of communication. And then built steam when a social networking site involving tweeting was a priority over a relationship involving real conversations. (Thank you Twestival LA). Sure, I didn't know details, and perhaps I made rash assumptions, but is it really necessary to telling the world of the Internet what you are doing every moment?

"Going to clip my toenails, going to call my grandma, going to barf all over the computer...."

(i love that I can google "barf" and some poor fat kid on spring break comes up)

But yesterday as I vigorously type into my blackberry that I am currently needing to find a tax guy, the light bulb that occupies my brain begins to flicker.

I am one of them.

I rejected the whole Twittastic concept, but yet I am loving Facebook status updates, and honestly very much intrigued by the fact that I can send out any nebulous question to be answered by anyone who cares enough to listen. Isn't that basically the same thing?

Pro's for Twitter- A facebook without all the albums, bothersome "what sex in the city character are you" apps, with a direct message chat, and the option to choose to follow anyone you please and receive their updates.

And have them follow you.

Sounds creepy when I type it out like that, doesn't it?

This guy gets to know what you are always up to.

I think I was about to join, till I got carried away and put that last picture up.

That is creepy, man.

Philosophy for the non-philosophical.

2009-03-26T13:16:00.000-07:00

I have fifteen minutes before I am forcing myself to work out. My brain is FULL and I need to write. This happens a lot. I have said amount of free time, and despite my greatest effort to fill it with working out, I find myself enthralled with the discovery of: 2012/Dubai's newest buildings/hulu.com/Family Guy episodes/reorganizing my fridge and beyond. Today, sparked by discussion over pizza and beers with a friend, it is philosophy. Which, mind you, has morphed into the philosophic arguments for and against the existence of God. Not even attempting to go there....

Yet.

All of this has made me want to know the purpose of our existence, and revel in the jaw-dropping statistic of what it takes for us to exist. (Which according to some online resource is: one-one thousandth of one-one trillionth). Mind you, I don't claim to know a lot (about anything beside Rent or Wicked), but isn't our existence as humans based upon what is true?

Is truth also fact? I say no, because it has some degree of relativity in it. So if truth is relative, it changes from person to person and evolves with us. But truth can't change, can it? But isn't truth also absolute? The world is round/I am typing on a keyboard/my coffee mug is blue. But aren't those facts?

I can't help but wonder what this bigger picture of existence is all about; and if what is true to me can be true to you. Or if it is simply a universality that cannot be debated or argued because it is absolute.

I'm sure I probably should have figured this out by now at the ripe age of 25, but I think I am only the brink of discovery. I put this out there in effort to get resources, thoughts, and an open dialogue. Comment or message me or whatever, and lets talk over coffee/dominos/family guy.

It's 70 degrees, not a cloud in the sky, and my 15 minutes are up. Damn you exercise, for getting in my way.

Dolla Dolla Billz : A Pimp Guide to Recession Survival.

2009-03-18T13:47:00.000-07:00

Looking for more money sucks. It really does. I have in the meantime found two sites that bring great joy and hope:

Read on my recession partners in crime. We are not alone. Doesn't misery love company...and laughter?

http://www.tempdiaries.com/

http://savetheassistants.com/

Also a ever-so-intriguing interview with Jim Cramer on The Daily Show. How to call someone out and be a bad ass:

http://www.hulu.com/watch/62203/the-daily-show-with-jon-stewart-thu-mar-12-2009

It is survival of the fittest right now! And so, a few tips that have helped me in this journey.

You will be eating hundred dollar bills for breakfast, and then laughing while you frolick in all the extra you saved.

RECESSION SURVIVAL TIPS:

1. Honesty.

Instead of talking yourself up into a flurry put the pride aside and be honest about what you need/want. Most times people want to help. I've found even one strong connection will get you a job quicker than dozens of submissions to strangers.

*Even if it took me 3 years to understand this.

2. Trade.

I need a haircut and highlight. Typically it runs upwards of a hundo. So via craigslist I offered to be a hair model. It doesn't matter what you look like if you have hair, you are good to go!

Free cut/color, bingo bango bongo. Check out the legitimacy of the salon to make sure you're not gonna come out with purple hair. Or, offer to be their 'walking PR' and refer cliental. I did this with my last hair guy for several years.

For clothes, check out Crossroads/Buffalo Exchange. Sell your clothes, get cash or get a larger % in trade.

*Note: SELL @ Buffalo Exchange, they aren't as picky if you want cash. Sometimes you'll find good stuff but you have to really explore the racks.
BUY @ Crossroads (not the one on Melrose, the one on Santa Monica/Sweetzer). Amazing deals on designer garb, esp. jeans.

3. The preparty.

You wanna go out, duh. But don't really feel the need to spend a.) the bucks, or b.) the time to act interested listening to some douche bag gab on just to get a drink.

Cue: the preparty. Go to Trader Joe's rock a bottle of delicious wine under 5 bucks, get 'er done.

4. Negotiation.

I have never really tried much to negotiate with my bills. Until recently.

-Talk to credit card companies and they will lower your interest rate. Lowered one of mine 8%.

-Capital One will cover your minimum payment if you lose a job up to a year. Someone else paying MY bill? Hell to the yes.

-Verizon will take off any overrages if you call and make your sob story. Just had 'em take of $95 bucks. Yes, I'm serious.

- Go into your bank personally if you overdraft. If you chat it up with them, explain what happened they will most always remove the fee.

5. Fashion Ingenuity

The Power of Scissors:

-I shrunk an already-too-tight-red-dress, but I couldn't let it go. So chop chop, I turned it into a shirt.

-A favorite 3/4 length shirt ripped on the armpit. I cut off the sleeve and made it a flowy tank top.

Leggings can change any look. Rock em alone, with heels, under anything you can think of and it's a new outfit. *Note: careful to keep it looking vintage/hip and not 1985 with scrunched socks. Go for leggings that go to the ankle, or cover 'em up with boots.

6. Get baby turtles.

They will make you happy no matter what else is happening.

And so I give you: Troy and Gabriella.

* If these tips don't work for you, I cannot be responsible. B

But if they do work i accept all forms of thank you in cash or checks made out

to Haely White.

Coexistence.

2009-03-16T16:06:00.000-07:00

There really is nothing like going to a party during the middle of the afternoon, in a public park with trance/house music.

A Hispanic birthday party blared the thump of Latin drums and trumpets amidst the raving beats of the DJ, as the smell of chorizo filled the air.

A bit behind the family birthday celebration, was a small swing set and play area, in which children and their very pregnant mothers giggled and frolicked on the swings and monkey bars. Just another happy Sunday in the park.

And next to it, literally within 30 feet: a collection of hippies, free spirits, outcasts and ravers, danced on. As if it was 4 in the morning in the middle of the woods. Some with babies on their hip. Top hats and St Patricks day tutus and bedazzlement kept my attention, along with the vibe that each man was for himself. Creating his/her own movements within the music; completely unique to their interpretation of it. Some spinning in circles endlessly, or stomping the ground till exhaustion. I danced and danced and then collapsed. I sat and took some time to take in this odd but somehow beautiful circumstances of coexistence. An introspective moment outside of it all, below:

Life as a Postcard.

2009-03-14T14:16:00.000-07:00

After doing data entry for several long boring mind numbing hours today, I got some pictures back and decided to entertain myself seeing that they were so cheesily serious and dramatic. I found that any Meatloaf, Richard Marx or Peter Gabriel lyric can really make a caption.

Coming next:

Recessionista tips : How to live on, well, nothing.

1980 Bouffant Baby.

2009-03-11T06:30:00.000-07:00

I had a funny hair experience yesterday and so to indulge my insomnia, I will share. That, and it's much easier to talk about bad hair than it is to about my rising debt.
*Cheers to our economy*

I arrived at Big Boy's in Burbank yesterday morning prior to the shoot, already late @ 5:30 am due to lack of alarm. Did it or did it not go off? Still no idea. But this body was not having it at 3:30am.

As I gaze upon the bacon and ham omelets that I want so badly to consume, I am surprised to learn there are two hair people on for the day. Typically for these types of 'test' shoots they don't pay (well, or at all) so a makeup person will do hair as well.

The other girl sits down with the cute Denmark Hairstylist who begins to make bouncy-perfect-Victoria-Secret-style-runway curls. I gaze, wishing I had hair that could be bouncy perfect too. I go to the African-American stylist. She begins to comb my hair into a ponytail on top of my head. Sure it feels strange, but as she combs, she sprays. A lot. Over and over. I feel the heat of a curling iron, and watch as the sizzle turns into steam extending off my forehead. This process continues for 30 minutes. As I watch the other girl's hair finish, I fear whatever is going on up there, it can't be good. The Denmark Hairstylist looks into my eyes, as I gaze back as to say "Sweet Lord, it isn't as bad as it feels... or is it?"

Her eyes tell me all I need to know. At 40 minutes, my makeup is complete and I raise out of my chair to confront my deepest fear in the mirror.

THIS AND THIS had a baby on my head.

My stylist says she has to leave. My eyes light up and I walk to the photographer in hope he can see what just pooped out on top of my head. He concurs. Denmark Hairstylist does too. In a thick accent, she says, " I saw in your eyes." We begin to rip out pins and brush through my matted hair. It is truly beyond repair. She manages to sweep it over and poof it out on the side. Yeah, it's weird and completely ruined but ANYTHING is better than that 1980's Bouffant Baby.

And the outcome below, so you can laugh at the story behind it all:

And I came home with my back so incredibly sunburned I'm praying it doesn't blister. But man, it was a beautiful day for a bouffant.

Nature Walk.

2009-03-09T13:27:00.000-07:00

I'll tell you what you need to do as soon as possible:
Nature Walk.

That's right. 3rd grade style. Ben, my boyfriend, and I ventured on one yesterday and I forgot how gorgeous this city is. A must, however, is music. We hooked up both headphones to the good 'ol iphone and walked to the beats that became the soundtrack. And here I thought LA was only good for smog and celebrities. Apparently, in fact, Griffith Park is the size of Hollywood. I was awe-struck as we strolled over a bridge and through the towering trees and plant life, that this has been around and I have yet to partake.

Forget you, Runyon Canyon, with your dirty slippery hills and panting dogs running amuck. Hello Griffith, my newfound love of Los Angeles.

Happiness Is:

2009-03-06T01:28:00.000-08:00

The Joy of The World Wide Web.

2009-03-05T22:34:00.001-08:00

My eye is twitching again. Perhaps it is because I was wided-eyed and bushy tailed circa 4am. I hustled out of bed round 7am and proceeded to my photoshoot. It's dress up for grownups, really. It's all fun and games 'till I get home and every part of me shuts down from exhaustion and hunger. I was trying to understand why this is, and have decided it is because I can usually schlep by on my bad jokes and one dimple. But when doing this I am hyper aware I need to look cooler than I am. Mask the inner-nerd and shoot fire through my eyes into the camera. And to suck in for theloveofgodsohelpmenow. I found myself in profound pain upon my return 7 hours later, and have now given in to all temptation to stay in tonight.

I should go to bed but I've discovered too many jems online that I cannot resist. The internet is my playground. And I shall embrace it.

(Once I learn photoshop this would have my face cut/pasted in it)
*Note just tried doing it, and I failed and then realized this might be the most unproductive thing I've done all day. Fine, all hour.

First being, James Franco's acting technique. Indulge yourself, and learn a thing or two.

Acting With James Franco Episode 1: "Sense Memory" from James Franco

And then:

Acting with James Franco Episode 2: "Green Screen" from James Franco

And so you are already sitting down so why not:

Acting with James Franco Episode 3: Scene Work from James Franco

Additionally, I have thankfully found REDDIT: http://www.reddit.com/

The deal with Reddit is this: News articles that completely have no relevance, blow your mind, and make you go "seriously?" And then people comment on them. You can vote it to move up to make it viewed and commented on more. The most respectable thing about Reddit is that it's not Us Weekly readers who comment. It's a fine sector of society who are well read, and most importantly: witty. The comments are my very favorite, in fact.

Lastly, I leave you with my Grade A Emotional Catharsis Site: http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

People mail in an anonymous post card with their secret. New ones are posted each Sunday.

I need to work now. I gave myself until 11pm. It is now 11:12pm, and guilt is setting in. I be also doing weekly newscasts in character starting tomorrow. So stay tuned for that. And future moments of "My Webcam and Me."

Masquerade at the Mansion

2009-03-03T08:45:00.000-08:00

So, I've debated to blog or not to blog on this one. But I've decided to blog.

Cue up Saturday night:
Several girlfriends and I prepare to go to what is made out to be an epic party. We were invited for free, although tickets had said going price of $1000. I don't care how epic a party is, unless I'm showing up on a camel to party at some ancient Pharoah's pyramid, that is crazy talk. But I'll be more than happy to attend it.

The theme: Masquerade. Masks required. All men in black, and women in, well, 'something hot'. We show up to said location to show our ID's and get wrist bands. From there we board a bus with several other scantily clad women, men in black suits, and head north. Rounding a corner, and pulling up in front of the Playboy Mansion, I see it lit in all its cheesy glory. Blue, purple lights beam upwards, and we get in line which leads us in.

I notice a small man in front of me in a black blazer. I then notice than no man is that small, or none that I have seen. Yes, it is Verne Troyer (a la Mini Me). No doubt this night could go wrong now. As we enter, they have models posed on a red velvet couch. Trying to be still, I can read the boredom behind their eyes. I have been there, I get it.

We enter into a huge tent, lined with cabanas along the wall. A stage at the very front, dance floor, small bar tables lit up, and full premium open bar. Goodness. As it leads outside to the pool, there is a stone walkway which was the death of me by the end of the night in 3' stilettos, and a full buffet. Realizing I am a.) starving but b.) not wanting to show a food baby quite yet, I hold off while I still have will power.

I hit the dance floor, but honestly could not stop looking around. Women in only, ah, spray paint. Since when did paint become a costume? Several times they would blast some Indian "ohh oww ohh" music and carry out a girl on a glorified stretcher. I couldn't help but laugh. This was too funny to be true.

I ventured outside for a bit, in effort to finally see the grotto. And there it was: it all it's Playboy story glory. Heels were killing, so I took a sit and just observed for a bit. It wasn't until 15 minutes in, I realized I was sitting, alone in the bushes, watching people, and it was time to find my friends. By this time, that buffet was calling my name and I couldn't ignore it. Can't quite be clear on the food exactly, but I do recall it was tastier than imagined. And that I regretted eating all of it once I saw there was a sushi bar.

We departed and hailed a cab after the shuttle dropped us off. Here's when it gets good. My friend hails the cab, and as he pulls over, we begin to get in. Out of no where Sassy Girl tells us it was HER cab and how dare we get in. I say point blankly that my friend hailed it, and everyone can see that. She pushed me. So hard I fell down on the concrete. And then went for my friend's hair. Seriously? Girl fight? I retreat inward, emotionally damaged that a girl would push me down. I should of used my jujitsu. She takes our cab. And we are left dumbfounded, did that just happen?

Yup. Welcome to LA. We take the second cab as bystanders acknowledge the absurdity of Sassy Girl's actions. Whew. I leave, without my mask or full arm black silk gloves, but with my story, and a twinkle in my eye for the rocking chair.

A Store Front Reads:

2009-02-27T18:53:00.000-08:00

If only it was that easy.

Unlucky Charms

2009-02-26T23:50:00.000-08:00

I was ravenously hungry last night around 1 am, and somehow found myself wandering the 7-11 isles for an obscene amount of time. I acknowledged the cashier was staring at me, curious how one decision could be so impossible to make. But you know when you're so hungry, you could eat everything. Or nothing. You'd hate to make a decision, commit to a sandwich, then be disappointed you didn't choose the KitKat. So after I could feel his eyes burning through my back, I surrendered to the urge of Lucky Charms. It's been about a decade since I had them. Upon reviewing the box, while I inhaled, I was taken back by "game" on the back.

A demon posessed dragon lurks upon the leprechaun, ready to consume him.

This may be the unluckiest leprechaun I've ever seen.

In other news: If you happened to catch 30 Rock tonight, I, Like Liz, left my phone in a cab recently. And he also blackmailed me for it. And now is a better time than ever to tell the story.

After an "eventful" Saturday night out of dancing, bongo drums, champagne, we hailed a cab to take us home.

It was late and I only had debit card for payment. He refused to accept it. I know how these Hollywood cabbies work: they don't get as much tip off cards, so they just say they 'don't accept them.'
I tell him that he better accept it or we will not be paying. It was certainly threatening coming from a slurry blonde in a poofy dress.

He yells at us in broken English to just give him five dollars. It was a heated exchange in two different languages, and so I resign and throw five dollars and hurry out in the heels-I-always-regret-wearing-the-next-day.

As soon as opening my front door, I knew it. Knowing the odds of getting it back, I began to mourn the loss of the beloved blackberry. After two days of various text messages in hopes someone will see it, the Russian Cabbie calls @ 6 am. I answer the phone call on Marcus's phone seeing my name and number flashing. My heart leaps while realizing that at any moment my battery could die and it would be gone forever. High stakes. It's surely a miracle the battery has held on for 2 days. I manage to make out he is "far away but for 65$ could make special trip." I say I don't want to spend 65$. He tells me that will be his fare from where he is. I tell him he is a liar, then quickly take it back knowing he has my heart in his sweaty sausage fingers. Twenty minutes later, I give in to said price of 40$.

I must disguise myself as I wouldn't want him to recognize me from the aforementioned event of the drop off. *cringe* I bust a green beret and bulky jacket. I go into my wallet to get what I thought was 40$, I realize I only have 25$. I call him, explaining what I have, and he tells me I am a liar, and he will now make it 70$ for me to get it back. He asks me to go to ATM for the rest. Heart is racing, tears begin to flow like the Nile. It is 7 am, I am emotionally fragile, and broke. So I try to appeal to his money hungry negotiations. I will come to him wherever his next destination is and still give him 25$. Russian Cabbie then admits he's already here, parked outside. No. Are you kidding me? Blood boils at the fact he would demand 70$, while he waits around the corner. Where are my numb chucks?

I tear downstairs looking in each direction: no sign of cab. In the distance appears a short stubby balding man in a corduroy jacket. Dear sweet blackberry is in his grasp. I begin jogging toward him. He sees my desperation, as I gratefully pass all the cash I have to him and thank him through dramatic gasps of breath. And then, something outrageous happened.

Russian Cabbie hugs me. A dad hug. Not creepy old man hug. He soothes me patting my back saying, "is oh-kay, no worry, no worry." I hug back. We share a moment of silence.
I still can't wrap my mind around how Russian Cabbie morphed from blackmail threats to loving father figure in a matter of minutes. Whatever it's worth, thank you Michael from United Cab for my phone, the hug, and the story of redemption. Maybe you do have a soul after all.

Ninjas aren't always rich

2009-02-26T01:51:00.000-08:00

Sure, everyone wants to be a ninja. But it takes fierce concentration, cat like reflexes, and most of all: money.

But now, you too, can be a ninja on a budget.

http://www.wikihow.com/Train-to-Be-a-Ninja-With-a-Low-Budget

This is a test, this is only a test

2009-02-25T19:56:00.000-08:00

Despite my frustration with my lack of technical skillz, I am trying to upload a video. Of me doing nothing. In my kitchen. This is only a test.

Will you be my Technical Wizard?

2009-02-25T18:02:00.001-08:00

I wish I was a technical wizard. I regress to the mental state of mentally handicapped 8 year old boy when dealing with computers. I mean, I get it enough. That meaning that I just figured out how to incorporate pictures on this thing and it was a proud moment.

So I decided that I would be proactive and shoot some shananigans, just for my own experience, and hell, if it looked decent enough to put it on something so I could be like: look-- I can act. I just assumed my computer would hook up to the camera and it would figure it all out. And then I could teach myself new editing software, and do it all myself. I was a production major, not an effing rocket scientist. Turns out I needed firewire hookup and this computer must have been made before the internet and it didn't have one. So I venture to Best Buy, carrying computer like a small baby, and ask the largest man I've seen in some time to help me. After rambling on and dropping words that would dictate I knew what I was talking about, his eyes widend and he said, "Easy child, easy."

No help there. But at least he was kind.

So then to two more stores to get a card reader (which I had learned about via Best Buy boy) and they didn't carry them, or they were fresh out. Not giving up yet, I ask a friend for a computer to borrow, and STILL it will not upload. For real? So now, I have to pirate software I can't afford to buy to put on the other computer just to get this done. Ay.

And so, I sit here somewhat defeated. I wish so badly I was someone who was good with details and wizardry of computers. To feel like I got something useful out of today I have also had my workout clothes on....for several hours. I don't know if I'll even make it to the gym, but the percentage is a great deal higher.

Sorry man, that was painfully boring eh? I assure you I will not write anymore boring things. I am attending an epic (1000$/ticket, yes) party in a few days that will be much more exciting to blog about....just you wait.

And, We're Back.

2009-02-25T17:33:00.000-08:00

To the five or so people I had reading my previous blog, (Grandma, that includes you):

I’m Sorry. One evening a few months back, I was feeling annoyed by my clichéd enteries and erased it spitefully. And now I miss it. So here I am: Take Two ala Mickey Rourke.

Hopefully this time I’ll incorporate further insightful narrative to awaken your spirit, and make you feel good about your life and the fact you aren’t on a street corner making balloon animals.

(Although I’d applaud anyone who ever worked the Denver Buskerfest and resided to giving the “art” to the homeless in trade for McDonalds coupons. They do have tasty fries.)

Ugh, why do I bite my nails like this? I swear, every year I have made a pact with myself that THIS will be the year I stop biting my nails. I have gone for weeks, and even months when my will power overrides my desire to knaw. But seemingly, every New Year I look down and realize nothing has really changed. It’s actually quite fascinating: I can examine my nails and decipher my subconscious and state of mind for the previous days. In a good week, they are unnoticeable and well kept. But days of running late, tension, dissatisfaction, they are mangled and a helluva embarrassment to even myself.

I can thank my mother for introducing me to Broadway Nails: For Petite hands.
These have come as a life saver for auditions when I must flash my hands in front of my face, and not relive the Mary Kay audition nightmare of my youth **

They really aren’t designed to last for more than one day, and lets be honest, for $5.99 I have fairly low expectations, but often I’ll keep them, admiring my beautiful hands if only for a day or two. Usually circa day 3, one will pop off. I must make a note to find the nail immediately at all costs, acknowledging that if anyone found it they too would be appalled. This has happened, seriously, at a boyfriend’s house, a football tailgate, a business meeting, carrying menus to a table and setting them down, you name it. I resisted all urges today in Target when I saw them in the beauty isle. It’s not worth it later when they fall off, I decided. And so I moved on to browse more crucial items like candles, frames and children’s clothing. I’m regretting it now, glancing down as I type.
One must sacrifice pride for beauty. And so, I plan on returning to purchase them.
It was a challenging week and my nails have suffered the consequences.

Moving on, I just finished watching the Oscars. They really took it to musical town with this one. I mean, Hugh Jackman, gayer than a day in May, did an entire song and dance to announce each best picture nomination. And then a lap dance for Barbara Walters in the interview to follow. A straight man cannot move his hips like that. Obviously, I was blissfully happy and couldn’t have been more impressed with the musical splendor. Bravo Oscar producers. I will put it out there that if Vanessa Hudgens can perform at the Oscars, I think America could have a black president. Oh, wait.

I also suggest you invest in the Slumdog Millionare soundtrack. It puts me in this elated-overseas- trance frame of mind, where nothing can bring me down and I want to dance around West Hollywood bindi and a bedazzled sarong.

Uh, crap, my right eye is twitching. It only does this when I’m exhausted or have been looking at something intensely for an extended period of time. I have been staring at my computer and working for the past 4 hours, and so my vision is beginning to blur and actually…ya, uh, the twitch is getting worse. Ok time for slumber.

I wish I had a closing contemplative inspiration for the day, but I’ll keep the expectations low for now, as not to disappoint. That, and my internet is down so I can’t google inspirational quotes.

________________________________________________________________________

**Had an audition for a Mary Kay commercial back in the day, and not only did I have to flash my hands in the face deal, but actually had to place my hands on the table in front of the casting director. They were but painful nubs and I was so flustered, that when I went to do my line for camera, I jumped in the air and my lanky arm flew up in the air and I punched myself in the eye.