I really like the “Day in Pictures” featured on bbcnews.com. I like using them as my desktop background.
While I was working for Susan Ellen I had this amazing picture of a sumo wrestler as my desktop. When Susan Ellen noticed it, she started dry heaving.
“Ew! That is so gross. He’s so fat!” she exclaimed.
I told her that sumo wrestling is an ancient Japanese art form and I really liked the framing of the photo and the man’s expression. I was not about to say that the only reason the picture was on my desktop was because it was a hilarious picture of a fat man in a diaper.
“Ugh! How could you look at that everyday? I’d want to kill myself,” Susan Ellen said, the next day, after I turned my computer on.
One day, I was showing Susan Ellen how I was dividing up the chapters in the book on my computer. I had a small window up on my computer.
“Can I fix something on your computer?” she asked. I was a bit taken aback. I thought Susan Ellen didn’t know anything about computers. However, if I underestimated her genius in dieting and skincare expertise, maybe I underestimated her regarding her computer skills as well.
I got up from the desk and Susan Ellen took control of my computer. She dragged the window in front of the sumo wrestler’s face and enlarged it to cover his entire body.
“I just can’t look at him,” she said, “He’s grossing me out.”
The next day, I saw another photo on “The Day in Pictures” that I ended up using to replace the Sumo Wrestler.
“Now, that’s a beautiful picture,” Susan Ellen remarked. “Way better than that fat man.”
It was a picture of a smoky orange sky caused by wild fires.
Why had I that as my desktop background? I don’t know, but for my sense of pseudo-irony at the time, Susan Ellen was right. It was way better than that fat man.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Chapter 34: Susan Ellen’s Guide to Drinking Water
As mentioned earlier, Susan Ellen hired me on to be a ghostwriter for her diet book that also included lifestyle tips like how to include Buddha into your life and relieve dry feet.
One chapter in the book included something along the lines of “Susan Ellen’s 8 Tips for Getting Your 8 glasses of Water a Day” (despite the fact that it’s been proven that the 8 glasses of water a day isn’t necessary to stay healthy.)
Here were some of her tips she asked me to include in the book. If some of these seem exaggerated to you, you’re right. They are exaggerated. This is because I was writing the book; not her. She said I could add in anything I thought would be necessary for the book’s success.
1.) Have a drinking race! See how fast you can drink a bottle of water and try to beat your record each time to play the game. Every time you beat your previous time, reward yourself with a bottle of water.
2.) Listen to music while you sip water and take a sip at every beat. Don’t worry if you choke; at least you will be on beat!
3.) Drink three glasses of water every time you cry to replenish the water you lost through your tears. This is especially good for people who lost a loved one in a freak accident.
4.) Next time you go to the Olive Garden for the Soup, Salad, and Breadsticks menu, replace the soup with a bowl of water. Once you get really advanced, you can replace the salad and breadsticks with a bowl of water, as well.
5.) If you live in LA, drink a gallon of water everyday it doesn’t rain. If you don’t live in LA, drink a gallon of water everyday.
6.) At parties, drink water instead of liquor and act drunk.
7.) Become an Aquarius.
8.) Take up smoking and then start quitting. Every time you get a cigarette craving, drink a glass of water. If you already smoke, you’re halfway there to a healthier new you!
One chapter in the book included something along the lines of “Susan Ellen’s 8 Tips for Getting Your 8 glasses of Water a Day” (despite the fact that it’s been proven that the 8 glasses of water a day isn’t necessary to stay healthy.)
Here were some of her tips she asked me to include in the book. If some of these seem exaggerated to you, you’re right. They are exaggerated. This is because I was writing the book; not her. She said I could add in anything I thought would be necessary for the book’s success.
1.) Have a drinking race! See how fast you can drink a bottle of water and try to beat your record each time to play the game. Every time you beat your previous time, reward yourself with a bottle of water.
2.) Listen to music while you sip water and take a sip at every beat. Don’t worry if you choke; at least you will be on beat!
3.) Drink three glasses of water every time you cry to replenish the water you lost through your tears. This is especially good for people who lost a loved one in a freak accident.
4.) Next time you go to the Olive Garden for the Soup, Salad, and Breadsticks menu, replace the soup with a bowl of water. Once you get really advanced, you can replace the salad and breadsticks with a bowl of water, as well.
5.) If you live in LA, drink a gallon of water everyday it doesn’t rain. If you don’t live in LA, drink a gallon of water everyday.
6.) At parties, drink water instead of liquor and act drunk.
7.) Become an Aquarius.
8.) Take up smoking and then start quitting. Every time you get a cigarette craving, drink a glass of water. If you already smoke, you’re halfway there to a healthier new you!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Chapter 33: Newfound Respect and White Face
What’s that syndrome that happens when a hostage falls in love with his or her captive? Isn’t it a Susan Sarandon movie? Or am I just dreaming? (Ah, that’s the question I ask most often in my life.)
I suppose during my tenure with Susan Ellen, I began to slightly respect her. Or pity her. Or feel guilty that I thought she had a cocktail of ADD, Downs Syndrome, and pseudo-Conservatism and I ended up being proven wrong by my temp agent.
Does this happen to people when they work for crazy bosses? After a while they start to really respect them?
Whether this is a condition or not, this phenomenon did happen to me.
In the skincare community, there is a trend called “Face Whitening”. Basically, if you care at all about the health of your skin, your face must look as white as possible.
Susan Ellen calls this “White Face” and even wanted to include a eugenics tree in her book. (Remember, the book I was ghost writing for her on how to lose weight and do some other shit?)
Being the entrepreneur, Susan Ellen was calling a bunch of cosmetic manufacturers to look for a scientist to work with to help her develop her own line of “White Face”.
Per usual, Susan Ellen had her phone volume all the way up. She asked her questions to a representative who responded again and again, “I have no idea what you’re talking about ma’am. I don’t think this is the department you are trying to reach.”
As I was working on chapter 37 of her book, “How Cellulite Causes Breast Cancer”, I thought to myself, “Wow! That representative is acting like a dick toward Susan Ellen! He doesn’t know! She’s a genius.”
They ended their conversation and the phone rep said goodbye with the company’s obligatory phrase:
“Thank you for calling the National Association of Architectural Metal Manufacturers. Have a good day.”
That guy is a moron. He doesn’t even know what manufacturing company he works for!
I love you, Susan Ellen!
I suppose during my tenure with Susan Ellen, I began to slightly respect her. Or pity her. Or feel guilty that I thought she had a cocktail of ADD, Downs Syndrome, and pseudo-Conservatism and I ended up being proven wrong by my temp agent.
Does this happen to people when they work for crazy bosses? After a while they start to really respect them?
Whether this is a condition or not, this phenomenon did happen to me.
In the skincare community, there is a trend called “Face Whitening”. Basically, if you care at all about the health of your skin, your face must look as white as possible.
Susan Ellen calls this “White Face” and even wanted to include a eugenics tree in her book. (Remember, the book I was ghost writing for her on how to lose weight and do some other shit?)
Being the entrepreneur, Susan Ellen was calling a bunch of cosmetic manufacturers to look for a scientist to work with to help her develop her own line of “White Face”.
Per usual, Susan Ellen had her phone volume all the way up. She asked her questions to a representative who responded again and again, “I have no idea what you’re talking about ma’am. I don’t think this is the department you are trying to reach.”
As I was working on chapter 37 of her book, “How Cellulite Causes Breast Cancer”, I thought to myself, “Wow! That representative is acting like a dick toward Susan Ellen! He doesn’t know! She’s a genius.”
They ended their conversation and the phone rep said goodbye with the company’s obligatory phrase:
“Thank you for calling the National Association of Architectural Metal Manufacturers. Have a good day.”
That guy is a moron. He doesn’t even know what manufacturing company he works for!
I love you, Susan Ellen!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Chapter 32
“What?”
“Susan Ellen is a genius,” Ted repeated over the phone. He had called to check in to see how I liked working with Susan Ellen.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Just, if you look at the products she’s developing, they are state-of-art.”
Granted, I never looked into the exact products she was making regarding the oils she uses to put on your tummy before you wrap yourself in her saran wrap contraption. I knew she was also developing a line of lotions, oils, and hair products, but I never saw anything about that.
“I don’t know…” I answered.
“Look, I know that Susan Ellen can we a little intense. I know she has a big personality and may not always use her manners. But she is an eccentric woman because she is so talented. She’s a mad genius. She is amazingly popular among the stars. All the celebs go to her. She has so many deals with companies. Becky, my friend, you’re working for a genius. Working for her weight loss company will look really good on your resume in becoming a comedy writer.”
I thought for a moment. What if Susan Ellen was a genius? We all know that the top thinkers, artists, and leaders have some strange attribute to their personality. Maybe Susan Ellen is so horrible because she has so much talent. She’s an idiot savant. Maybe if I continue working for her, I’ll end up seeing the savant part!
“Susan Ellen is a genius,” Ted repeated over the phone. He had called to check in to see how I liked working with Susan Ellen.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Just, if you look at the products she’s developing, they are state-of-art.”
Granted, I never looked into the exact products she was making regarding the oils she uses to put on your tummy before you wrap yourself in her saran wrap contraption. I knew she was also developing a line of lotions, oils, and hair products, but I never saw anything about that.
“I don’t know…” I answered.
“Look, I know that Susan Ellen can we a little intense. I know she has a big personality and may not always use her manners. But she is an eccentric woman because she is so talented. She’s a mad genius. She is amazingly popular among the stars. All the celebs go to her. She has so many deals with companies. Becky, my friend, you’re working for a genius. Working for her weight loss company will look really good on your resume in becoming a comedy writer.”
I thought for a moment. What if Susan Ellen was a genius? We all know that the top thinkers, artists, and leaders have some strange attribute to their personality. Maybe Susan Ellen is so horrible because she has so much talent. She’s an idiot savant. Maybe if I continue working for her, I’ll end up seeing the savant part!
Monday, January 19, 2009
Chapter 31: Genius Bar
After dishing with my friends all of my Susan Ellen stories a lot of them questioned me as to why I didn’t quit at that point.
There are a few reasons why. First and foremost, I was a new L.A. transplant so I was still getting my bearings. (I know I still use that excuse when it comes to laundry but we all have our flaws, right?) Secondly, I am young. I don’t know a lot about life or how to stand up for myself or have the basic gist about employees’ rights. In my college internship program, they stressed the importance of adapting to your boss and developing techniques to deal with demanding jobs and big personalities. Basically, I’m programmed to just deal with it. I don’t realize I’m in a shitty situation until it’s too late. There have been so many times in my life when I should have had metaphorical abortions but I ended up waiting until it was too late and raising metaphorical cleft palate babies. Take for example, my previous boss.
Quickbooks?! He wanted me to learn QuickBooks? Are you fucking kidding me?
Thirdly, I chose not to quit my servitude after a call a received from Ted.
It was a Friday and I didn’t need to go into Susan Ellen’s until 3 because she had to get a chicken pox vaccination and then she was going colon-cleansin’ with Daisy Ellen.
“Becky! It’s Ted. How are you?”
Oh! It was so great to hear his Tim Gunn-esque voice!
He continued, “I just wanted to check in to see how things were going with Susan Ellen?”
By the middle of that question, I was ready to answer:
“Susan Ellen is a borderline retard. She doesn’t need a personal assistant. She needs a registered nurse. She is rude, incoherent, and completely unprofessional! She looks at my emails! She asks me personal questions! She is unclear in her directions! Each day I go into work utterly amazed that she somehow managed to make her pathetic excuse for a business look like a legitimate company for you! You totally screwed me over and sent me to a company because I checked off ‘gets along well with others’ on my application! You assumed ‘Oh! She seems so agreeable and nice. She must be stupid. Let’s send her to this trainwreck of a company so we can just fill the spot already’. Well, guess what, Ted, as much as I want to go to Beauty Bar with you to discuss Zac Efron, it’s no more Miss Nice Girl. I’m going to be aggressive and get what I want and if you dare put me in another position that resembles this job I have now, I will seriously consider killing you. Seriously. Seriously, I will weigh the pros and cons of committing murder and taking your life. Seriously.”
But, the only words I could get out was “It’s…”
Ted interrupted me with, “Isn’t Susan Ellen a genius?”
There are a few reasons why. First and foremost, I was a new L.A. transplant so I was still getting my bearings. (I know I still use that excuse when it comes to laundry but we all have our flaws, right?) Secondly, I am young. I don’t know a lot about life or how to stand up for myself or have the basic gist about employees’ rights. In my college internship program, they stressed the importance of adapting to your boss and developing techniques to deal with demanding jobs and big personalities. Basically, I’m programmed to just deal with it. I don’t realize I’m in a shitty situation until it’s too late. There have been so many times in my life when I should have had metaphorical abortions but I ended up waiting until it was too late and raising metaphorical cleft palate babies. Take for example, my previous boss.
Quickbooks?! He wanted me to learn QuickBooks? Are you fucking kidding me?
Thirdly, I chose not to quit my servitude after a call a received from Ted.
It was a Friday and I didn’t need to go into Susan Ellen’s until 3 because she had to get a chicken pox vaccination and then she was going colon-cleansin’ with Daisy Ellen.
“Becky! It’s Ted. How are you?”
Oh! It was so great to hear his Tim Gunn-esque voice!
He continued, “I just wanted to check in to see how things were going with Susan Ellen?”
By the middle of that question, I was ready to answer:
“Susan Ellen is a borderline retard. She doesn’t need a personal assistant. She needs a registered nurse. She is rude, incoherent, and completely unprofessional! She looks at my emails! She asks me personal questions! She is unclear in her directions! Each day I go into work utterly amazed that she somehow managed to make her pathetic excuse for a business look like a legitimate company for you! You totally screwed me over and sent me to a company because I checked off ‘gets along well with others’ on my application! You assumed ‘Oh! She seems so agreeable and nice. She must be stupid. Let’s send her to this trainwreck of a company so we can just fill the spot already’. Well, guess what, Ted, as much as I want to go to Beauty Bar with you to discuss Zac Efron, it’s no more Miss Nice Girl. I’m going to be aggressive and get what I want and if you dare put me in another position that resembles this job I have now, I will seriously consider killing you. Seriously. Seriously, I will weigh the pros and cons of committing murder and taking your life. Seriously.”
But, the only words I could get out was “It’s…”
Ted interrupted me with, “Isn’t Susan Ellen a genius?”
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Chapter 30
For some reason, Susan Ellen never liked me to leave her house. I think that I was the hardest part for me. When I was unemployed my least favorite part was being cooped up in my house all day. Now that I was employed, I was cooped up in someone else’s house all day.
After the sweet potato incident, I decided that I would take care of my own lunch. I hated the fact that Susan Ellen lived in the Palisades, deep in Topanga Canyon and the fact I was in my stage "bring my own lunch with me to save money." Sure, I was saving money but at what cost?
Susan Ellen told me that I could eat lunch in the office. I asked if I could at least go the kitchen to eat. She said, “No. I don’t mind if you eat up here.”
I couldn’t even leave the room! I felt like I was starring in Anne Frank Goes to Hollywood.
Every time I ate my peanut butter sandwich, I felt Susan Ellen’s eyes on me. I would take a half an hour to eat and surf around the internet, checking Facebook, Perez Hilton, or email my mom about how ridiculous this job was.
The whole time, Susan Ellen would just stare at me. I could feel her judging me.
“Oh! That peanut butter is probably clogging her colon.”
“She’s drinking water out of a plastic water bottle? She’s so going to get cancer.”
“I can’t believe she goes on websites with words on them! She’s reading during her lunch break?”
After the sweet potato incident, I decided that I would take care of my own lunch. I hated the fact that Susan Ellen lived in the Palisades, deep in Topanga Canyon and the fact I was in my stage "bring my own lunch with me to save money." Sure, I was saving money but at what cost?
Susan Ellen told me that I could eat lunch in the office. I asked if I could at least go the kitchen to eat. She said, “No. I don’t mind if you eat up here.”
I couldn’t even leave the room! I felt like I was starring in Anne Frank Goes to Hollywood.
Every time I ate my peanut butter sandwich, I felt Susan Ellen’s eyes on me. I would take a half an hour to eat and surf around the internet, checking Facebook, Perez Hilton, or email my mom about how ridiculous this job was.
The whole time, Susan Ellen would just stare at me. I could feel her judging me.
“Oh! That peanut butter is probably clogging her colon.”
“She’s drinking water out of a plastic water bottle? She’s so going to get cancer.”
“I can’t believe she goes on websites with words on them! She’s reading during her lunch break?”
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Chapter 29: The Proposal Pt 2
Since Susan Ellen is partly deaf and doesn’t like to wear a hearing aid because she thinks it messes up her inner harmony, the volume on her phone made it seem like there was an intercom in her house.
“What the fuck, Susan Ellen? What did you do?” shouted Daisy Ellen.
“I just proofread your proposal,” answered Susan Ellen.
“You changed everything! All the words I wrote are different!”
Susan Ellen looked at me desperately. “What should I say?” she mouthed.
“Say that you gave it to your assistant and that I fixed some major grammatical mistakes.”
Susan Ellen hushed me.
“Daisy, there’s someone at the door. Can you hold on one second?”
Susan Ellen put Daisy Ellen on hold – which I’m surprised she was able to do – and looked at me.
“Daisy Ellen doesn’t know I have an assistant. If she found out that I hired someone to help me out, she’ll get really mad.”
“Why?”
“She’s just like that. She’s a bitch. But, she’s my best friend and I love her. But … ugh… I hate her. So, you have to help me. She bullies me so much and I never know what to say. Tell me what to say.”
“How- when- wait, what?”
Before I was able to comprehend what Susan Ellen told me, she took Daisy Ellen off hold.
“I don’t know why you would change everything. I just asked you to proofread it!”
“There were grammar mistakes.”
Susan Ellen mouth to me, “Right?”
I nodded.
“But that’s what grammar check on the computer is for!”
Susan Ellen grabbed a piece of notebook paper and frantically scribbled, “What should I say?”
I took a pen and wrote, “Grammar check is not a good tool.”
Susan Ellen said that into the phone.
“Are you saying, Susan Ellen, that you’re smarter than the grammar check that is on a computer? You’re smarter than a computer? Is that what you are telling me?”
I’m sure the first thing Cormac McCarthy did when finished the first draft of The Road was click "spell/grammar check" and then sent it to the publishers.
I wrote down on the paper “Grammar check is not able to catch every mistake.”
Susan Ellen said that into the phone.
“Well, Susan, I’m dating a guy who is really good with computers who can fix that.”
Susan Ellen looked at me, begging me to write down a good comeback. I wrote, “I was only trying to help!”
Susan Ellen said it into the phone.
“Well, you made it so much worse! You totally messed everything up!”
“I don’t understand why you’re being so mean to me, Daisy. I was just fixing it.”
“Well, you didn’t fix it. It’s ridiculous. I don’t understand why you would think you’re smarter than a computer!”
Susan Ellen was looking at me, asking for another comeback.
I had a notebook in front me, jotting down comebacks. They consisted of:
“Daisy Ellen is a cunt.”
“This is hilarious.”
“I want to quit this job.”
“Our product is a scam anyway.”
I mouthed to Susan Ellen, “I don’t have anything.” Susan Ellen mouthed, “Okay.”
Susan Ellen continued her conversation with Daisy Ellen. “So, how are you?” she asked.
Daisy Ellen responded, “Oh I’m great! I made this pomegranate liver tonic today. It was great.”
“Oh, tell me more, girlfriend!” said Susan Ellen.
She curled up on her couch and they gabbed like little girls as if their friendship wasn’t more volatile than a husband who beats his wife.
“What the fuck, Susan Ellen? What did you do?” shouted Daisy Ellen.
“I just proofread your proposal,” answered Susan Ellen.
“You changed everything! All the words I wrote are different!”
Susan Ellen looked at me desperately. “What should I say?” she mouthed.
“Say that you gave it to your assistant and that I fixed some major grammatical mistakes.”
Susan Ellen hushed me.
“Daisy, there’s someone at the door. Can you hold on one second?”
Susan Ellen put Daisy Ellen on hold – which I’m surprised she was able to do – and looked at me.
“Daisy Ellen doesn’t know I have an assistant. If she found out that I hired someone to help me out, she’ll get really mad.”
“Why?”
“She’s just like that. She’s a bitch. But, she’s my best friend and I love her. But … ugh… I hate her. So, you have to help me. She bullies me so much and I never know what to say. Tell me what to say.”
“How- when- wait, what?”
Before I was able to comprehend what Susan Ellen told me, she took Daisy Ellen off hold.
“I don’t know why you would change everything. I just asked you to proofread it!”
“There were grammar mistakes.”
Susan Ellen mouth to me, “Right?”
I nodded.
“But that’s what grammar check on the computer is for!”
Susan Ellen grabbed a piece of notebook paper and frantically scribbled, “What should I say?”
I took a pen and wrote, “Grammar check is not a good tool.”
Susan Ellen said that into the phone.
“Are you saying, Susan Ellen, that you’re smarter than the grammar check that is on a computer? You’re smarter than a computer? Is that what you are telling me?”
I’m sure the first thing Cormac McCarthy did when finished the first draft of The Road was click "spell/grammar check" and then sent it to the publishers.
I wrote down on the paper “Grammar check is not able to catch every mistake.”
Susan Ellen said that into the phone.
“Well, Susan, I’m dating a guy who is really good with computers who can fix that.”
Susan Ellen looked at me, begging me to write down a good comeback. I wrote, “I was only trying to help!”
Susan Ellen said it into the phone.
“Well, you made it so much worse! You totally messed everything up!”
“I don’t understand why you’re being so mean to me, Daisy. I was just fixing it.”
“Well, you didn’t fix it. It’s ridiculous. I don’t understand why you would think you’re smarter than a computer!”
Susan Ellen was looking at me, asking for another comeback.
I had a notebook in front me, jotting down comebacks. They consisted of:
“Daisy Ellen is a cunt.”
“This is hilarious.”
“I want to quit this job.”
“Our product is a scam anyway.”
I mouthed to Susan Ellen, “I don’t have anything.” Susan Ellen mouthed, “Okay.”
Susan Ellen continued her conversation with Daisy Ellen. “So, how are you?” she asked.
Daisy Ellen responded, “Oh I’m great! I made this pomegranate liver tonic today. It was great.”
“Oh, tell me more, girlfriend!” said Susan Ellen.
She curled up on her couch and they gabbed like little girls as if their friendship wasn’t more volatile than a husband who beats his wife.
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