So here I am, sitting in my midget chair, since the rather large security guard decided to break mine's forward/back thing and the up/down thing doesn't seem to be working on this one. I think I'll just wait for someone to notice it is barely tall enough for me to peer over the edge of the desk. If that doesn't work, I'll try whining, as asking nicely for a half-decent place to put my ass doesn't seem to be working.

I feel like a dog down here on the floor. I wish I were a dog right now, because there are some things I need to get off my chest.

If I were a pissy pooch, I would hunt down and maim or kill the following:
-weed whackers before 9 a.m.
-leaf blowers all the time
-bright-eyed, bushy-tailed morning people
-spoiled, bratty kids
-Burbank Hilton
-smokers (my hero!)
-abusive bosses and other corporate dicks
-city buses that made me late for work
-Republican rump roast

Yeah, I would be a very short-lived dog, but it'd be totally worth it.

Speaking of small animals, I was staring at this woman on the bus this morning because it really, really looked like she was wearing a chinchilla on her head. Guess it was just one big dreadlock, though.

You know you're (totally) in L.A. when:
-you seriously have to ask yourself if someone's hairdo is an exotic rodent
-you overhear two models discuss drinking their own pee as a cleansing fast
-you open the door one morning and step in a crime scene
-gunshots no longer alarm you
-you see a tranny in a wheelchair, fully decked out in high heel platform acrylic see-through stripper shoes, which he/she is using to propel him/herself instead of his/her arms; you narrowly miss running over him/her on more than one occasion, but you are not in the least bit surprised. In fact, you don't even bother to mutter, "damn wheelchair-bound transvestite strippers" under your breath anymore.

Oh yeah, and if I were a dog, I would chase their attention-whoring asses, too.

Maine will be providing the explanations for this post. Good luck.