Susan Ellen tried to explain to me about her business. Basically, she's a masseuse, but she doesn't have an official license, so she technically goes by "pain releaser."
However, it doesn't just end there.
Susan Ellen also has a body-slimming technique that helps you lose inches and cellulite. This technique consists of placing cellophane around your thighs and stomach for 30 minutes while you sweat away the inches. (All you need to do is drink a glass of water right after and you gain it all back again.)
Susan Ellen also has a body-detox program that consists of eating nothing but spoonfuls of apple-cider vinegar and raw asparagus for two weeks.
Susan Ellen also is going to have a line of hair products, face products, oils, creams, and other viscous liquids to "return skin and eyes to their healthiest glow and increase energy levels." She is working on a book, children’s stories, and serves as a health and beauty consultant.
Oh, and she doesn't do any of this work herself. Her rich father helped to set up her business. She has people create her body-slimming technique, diet plans, and diet pills. People who owed her rich father favors gave her connections to every A-list celebrity in Hollywood.
She spends most of her time being the personal "pain releaser" to celebrities on their movie and TV sets.
She’s now working on an infomercial for her detox products with her best friend/ C-list celebrity named [Daisy Ellen.]
Daisy Ellen was on a popular TV show in the late 80’s. She was the former fiancé of one of the most sought-out actors today and she is notorious for having a "downfall in her career."
When Susan Ellen emailed information about her projects to whomever, whenever she would write about Daisy Ellen, she would copy/paste Daisy Ellen’s Wikipedia page. Little did Susan Ellen know that the biggest subsection of Daisy Ellen’s article is “Career Downturn.”
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Chapter 17
Susan Ellen was born with the name Susanna Miriam Elizabeth Abramowitz-Vanderbilt (again, not her real name—but she is affiliated with an affluent family.)
She’s a petite woman and in her mid-forties. She has thick brown hair that’s normally dried straight, but, on the day I met her, she looked like she used fireworks to wash her hair. Her face looks a little like a bunny. (On days when I think extra bitterly of her, it looks like a retard bunny.)
Her house is a model home. No pictures on the walls. Every piece of furniture is white. The kitchen is never used and, since she doesn’t know how to take her dogs out for a walk, there are absorbent sheets everywhere filled with tiny little piss stains and pebbles of doody.
As I entered her home, she was talking a mile a minute.
“I’m so glad you’re here. So thankful. I had an assistant for eight years, but she left. The temp agency gave me someone else but she was horrible. Do you want some tea? Coffee? I have a lot of tea, but the only coffee I have is Sanka.”
I was so flustered. Is there an office anywhere?
“I’ll have a cup of tea. Thank you.”
“What kind? I have everything.”
“I’ll have green tea, if it’s available.”
She laughed at me. “What kind?”
“Uh…”
“Here, I’ll just make you this green tea from India or China. No wait. It’s Malaysia. Have you ever been to Malaysia?”
Is she on drugs?
“No. But I always wanted to go, though.”
What am I saying?
“Okay, I really don’t have time for talking. We have so much work to do.”
One of her dogs started sniffing her toe. She picked it up.
“Ohhhhh. Prince!” She started kissing his face. “Go say hi to…”
She looked at me.
“I’m sorry what’s you’re name again?”
“It’s Becky.”
She looked at the dog. “Go say hi to Becky! Go say hi to Becky!”
I thought she said there was a lot of work to do…
The dog came up to me. I pet it. It smelled horrible. “Musty” wouldn’t even begin to describe how horrible this dog smelled.
I looked at Susan Ellen. “So, you said there was work that needed…”
“Oh right.” She walked over to her kitchen table and picked up a cotton shirt. She threw it at me. I caught it.
“I got paint on this shirt,” she said. “I remember I got it online. Can you get on my computer and find a website store where they sell it?”
I looked at her. She was serious.
“Do you remember where it was from?” I asked, holding her laundry.
“Nah. I got it, like, six years ago. But it was my favorite shirt. I’m so bummed I got paint on it. Don’t you hate it when that happens?”
“Uh… yeah, I guess. And… where…?”
“Oh! I’m such an idiot. The cleaning lady is here today and she’s currently in my office. But my laptop is down here in the living room. You can just sit on the couch and work there today.”
I sat down on the couch and found her computer. Another one of her dogs jumped up on the couch and walked over to me. It smelled even worse.
I want to be unemployed again!
She’s a petite woman and in her mid-forties. She has thick brown hair that’s normally dried straight, but, on the day I met her, she looked like she used fireworks to wash her hair. Her face looks a little like a bunny. (On days when I think extra bitterly of her, it looks like a retard bunny.)
Her house is a model home. No pictures on the walls. Every piece of furniture is white. The kitchen is never used and, since she doesn’t know how to take her dogs out for a walk, there are absorbent sheets everywhere filled with tiny little piss stains and pebbles of doody.
As I entered her home, she was talking a mile a minute.
“I’m so glad you’re here. So thankful. I had an assistant for eight years, but she left. The temp agency gave me someone else but she was horrible. Do you want some tea? Coffee? I have a lot of tea, but the only coffee I have is Sanka.”
I was so flustered. Is there an office anywhere?
“I’ll have a cup of tea. Thank you.”
“What kind? I have everything.”
“I’ll have green tea, if it’s available.”
She laughed at me. “What kind?”
“Uh…”
“Here, I’ll just make you this green tea from India or China. No wait. It’s Malaysia. Have you ever been to Malaysia?”
Is she on drugs?
“No. But I always wanted to go, though.”
What am I saying?
“Okay, I really don’t have time for talking. We have so much work to do.”
One of her dogs started sniffing her toe. She picked it up.
“Ohhhhh. Prince!” She started kissing his face. “Go say hi to…”
She looked at me.
“I’m sorry what’s you’re name again?”
“It’s Becky.”
She looked at the dog. “Go say hi to Becky! Go say hi to Becky!”
I thought she said there was a lot of work to do…
The dog came up to me. I pet it. It smelled horrible. “Musty” wouldn’t even begin to describe how horrible this dog smelled.
I looked at Susan Ellen. “So, you said there was work that needed…”
“Oh right.” She walked over to her kitchen table and picked up a cotton shirt. She threw it at me. I caught it.
“I got paint on this shirt,” she said. “I remember I got it online. Can you get on my computer and find a website store where they sell it?”
I looked at her. She was serious.
“Do you remember where it was from?” I asked, holding her laundry.
“Nah. I got it, like, six years ago. But it was my favorite shirt. I’m so bummed I got paint on it. Don’t you hate it when that happens?”
“Uh… yeah, I guess. And… where…?”
“Oh! I’m such an idiot. The cleaning lady is here today and she’s currently in my office. But my laptop is down here in the living room. You can just sit on the couch and work there today.”
I sat down on the couch and found her computer. Another one of her dogs jumped up on the couch and walked over to me. It smelled even worse.
I want to be unemployed again!
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Chapter 16
Fuck.
I am working in someone's home again.
Her shirt was tucked into her underwear. I didn't say anything. Maybe this was in style.
I put out my hand to shake hers. She practically tapped it and asked me to take off my shoes before I entered the house.
So much for my heels! My outfit was ruined. I hate Hollywood.
I stepped inside her kitchen and a slew of rodent-puppy-ankle-biters approached me like the gang in She-Devils on Wheels. They were barking so much; their eyes were going to pop out of their heads. I swear, to this day, I saw a tiny turd pop out of one of them as they howled at me.
Susan Ellen yelled something at me, but I couldn’t hear over the puppies’ explosive yelps.
"What?"
"Put down your bag. The dogs don’t like purses."
The dogs don’t like purses…
I put down my bag by the door and entered the twilight zone.
I am working in someone's home again.
Her shirt was tucked into her underwear. I didn't say anything. Maybe this was in style.
I put out my hand to shake hers. She practically tapped it and asked me to take off my shoes before I entered the house.
So much for my heels! My outfit was ruined. I hate Hollywood.
I stepped inside her kitchen and a slew of rodent-puppy-ankle-biters approached me like the gang in She-Devils on Wheels. They were barking so much; their eyes were going to pop out of their heads. I swear, to this day, I saw a tiny turd pop out of one of them as they howled at me.
Susan Ellen yelled something at me, but I couldn’t hear over the puppies’ explosive yelps.
"What?"
"Put down your bag. The dogs don’t like purses."
The dogs don’t like purses…
I put down my bag by the door and entered the twilight zone.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Chapter 15
Despite the two-hour drive, the trek from Silver Lake to the Pacific Palisades is quite nice. You get to drive on the PCH and through Topanga Canyon.
When I reached the street that I thought Susan Ellen's office was on, I grew a little concerned.
"This is oddly residential…"
I found a spot and marched up to a condominium.
Oh no…
I can't work in someone's home again.
I maintained hope. Maybe this Susan Ellen owns this condominium as her office. Miranda July has a house in Echo Park as her office. Maybe a lot of interesting and innovative people do this. I don’t know.
I marched up to the front door and saw an index card. "Please ring doorbell by the garage."
I circled around to the back and rang the doorbell.
A nano-second after the "ding-dong", the loudest yips to ever emanate from puppies echoed throughout all of the Palisades.
The garage opened outward and I saw the most frazzled lady place a pile sheets into a washer.
"Hi! Thank God you're here!"
When I reached the street that I thought Susan Ellen's office was on, I grew a little concerned.
"This is oddly residential…"
I found a spot and marched up to a condominium.
Oh no…
I can't work in someone's home again.
I maintained hope. Maybe this Susan Ellen owns this condominium as her office. Miranda July has a house in Echo Park as her office. Maybe a lot of interesting and innovative people do this. I don’t know.
I marched up to the front door and saw an index card. "Please ring doorbell by the garage."
I circled around to the back and rang the doorbell.
A nano-second after the "ding-dong", the loudest yips to ever emanate from puppies echoed throughout all of the Palisades.
The garage opened outward and I saw the most frazzled lady place a pile sheets into a washer.
"Hi! Thank God you're here!"
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