Gym-NOW

Happy Holidays!!!

It's 48 degrees in Los Angeles....

Run for your lives.

This is bad.

How bad?

My mother had to wear gloves to Christmas dinner. My great aunt wore a large leopard print jacket the entire night. My other aunt bemoaned the fact that it wasn't 70 degrees and that we are experiencing a "true winter."

The icing on the cake is that it is raining.

Holy shit.

Anything falls from the sky here and people worry about the roads cause rain means traffic. But most importantly, rain means frizzy hair. And god forbid you show your face at Christmas Eve with a poof horror on your head.

So rain is scary. Rain is winter.



Now, I don't want to sound like a snob but I just left New York yesterday.

At 11pm it was 22 degrees but with that bitch ice wind it felt like 7 degrees.

This week I had to shovel my walkway and driveway due to the 13 inches that fell on Friday and Saturday.

My street is an ice field, there were icicles hanging from my tires, and I carried my suitcase over a three foot snow pile.

Suck it up and have some more Christmas cookies for Christ's sake.

How I fell off the face of the earth....

If there are any lonely souls out there wondering where the hell I went to...I got sucked into this vortex of grad school and too much writing.

Sorry. Sorry.

Accept my apologies.

Because Drunk Happens

Most people have had unfortunate occasions where overwhelming inebriation leads to suddenly drunk calling and or texting and sometimes emailing. (Trying to make this sound scientific, or at least classy.)

So I guess it is only natural that Google mail would try to create a system that curbs the chance for a drunk's right to email.

I myself am a big fan of Shirley Temples. So if you ever get an email where I confess my undying love or tell you to go to hell-I mean it.

For all you other folks, your salvation is here:
http://www.time.com/time/business/article/0,8599,1849897,00.html

Monday.....

PRIDE

Dear California,

I miss you every day but especially as you go through this post Prop 8 world without me. I wish I could be there to face the 52% that took away your trail brazing status. Things aren't good California, Connecticut is now more progressive than you are. (I know, somewhere a generation of hippies are screaming and Los Angeles is looking at itself in the mirror and wondering how the county went yes on 8.)

But alas, there is hope yet. http://andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com/

I will just keep protesting from New York.


Love,
A Straight for Gay Rights



From Gay Pride, this summer in San Francisco

Get On Down Friday

Brilliant

This may make you cry....

But this is Young at Heart, a senior chorus. This is from a documentary made about the group.

All I got to say is art is in everyone.

Operation: Make a Play

Here is the mission, if Angela chooses to accept it.


The plan:
Direct a show in San Francisco this summer with my new theater company.

The stakes:
Lots of money I don't have, another drive across the country, find a job in the Bay Area, make something kick ass.

The immediate danger:
Going forward planning with nonexistent money.

The players:
So far Linda BaumBaum, otherwise known as a stage managing and light powered diva, my partner in crime.
To follow are 8 actors and a team of whoever wants to help with whatever they want to help with.

The show:
"Sera." Cool piece. About Pompeii.

The story:
Basically a volcano explodes and every one dies. Tragic.

The enemy:
The economy and foundations that are slicing budgets.

How to survive:
Light a candle, say a prayer, first grant proposal is going in next week.

What you can do to help:
Mail me a beer.

Manilow and Monkeys

So my friend Malia currently works as an editor for the company that manages Barry Manilow.

She's not terribly excited about all Barry all the time. She does not like "Mandy", she did not enjoy archiving 25+ years of his work on video, she is not a Fanilow.

But who says work can't be fun?

Introducing the handiwork of an office gone bored, featuring the Manilow monkeys of the Boss' desk.



San Francisco Monkeys



Everyone falls in love with a stripper....



Even toys feel the hope

10 Days!!!!!

Yes, I fell of the blog-o-sphere. You could say it was a busy schedule, my unhealthy daily intact of election news followed by a weepy couple of days, or the fact that October proved to be a freakin' scary month.

Really, October was a horrible month. I just couldn't write about scary things anymore when ever article was like, "Recession," "Job loss," "$150,000 wardrobe", "Beyonce wants to be known as Sasha Fierce."

Anyways, I am back. The theme of this month? Let's say hope.

Obama!



My theme song, because anyone who can make Numa Numa sound cool makes me think anything in art is possible.

Thank You Malia Again

Thank You Malia

I Wanna Be a Mic Stand...

That's wrong, right?

X-Ray Yourself for Cheap

According to an AP article:
Just two weeks after a Nobel Prize highlighted theoretical work on subatomic particles, physicists are announcing a startling discovery about a much more familiar form of matter: Scotch tape. It turns out that if you peel the popular adhesive tape off its roll in a vacuum chamber, it emits X-rays. The researchers even made an X-ray image of one of their fingers.

Now I need to buy a lot of scotch tape, a huge vacuum cleaner, and I can say "peace out" to my health insurance.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20081022/ap_on_sc/sci_scotch_tape_surprise

Tolerance people...

What the world needs now is tolerance of other people's views and opinions. Whether it is pro or anti Prop 8 or pro or anti McCain.

This kumbaya message is brought to you by Angela...someone who is overwhelmed by all this election stuff.


http://www.insidebayarea.com/oaklandtribune/localnews/ci_10786559?source=rss

Not so scary...

But too funny not to share:

A Horse named ARRRRRR! @ Yahoo! Video

Terrifying...

I will never get married by water.

Worst Best Man Ever @ Yahoo! Video

Let's Say I Die....

My heart stops. Boom. Shit.

And someone knows how to do CPR. (This will be the most action I have seen in many months, too bad I am unconscious.)

Alright, so me dead, guy CPR, and to pump the right amount of times and keep my heart at the right beat, he is sings "Staying Alive" to himself.

Cause this is what some researchers have discovered, that "Staying Alive" has 103 beats per minute, you little ticker as 100. So if you do CPR and you sing the song to yourself, you will be motivated to keep up the correct number of beats.

Now, I guess out of all the songs that could give me life, "Staying Alive" would be appropriate. However, it feels like a campy dark comedy musical or something. With the screenplay going...


ANGELA: I know, my schedule is so out of control. I think I am having a heart-

(ANGELA has a heart attack. Somewhere in the corner of the room HOT CPR DUDE sees her fall, he runs like lighting to be at her side.)

HOT CPR DUDE: Everyone get out of the way! My god, she is so beautiful. NOOOO!!!!

(HOT CPR DUDE gets on ANGELA's mouth, hands pushing her chest, in between breathes we hear...)

HOT CPR DUDE: (whispering) Well you can tell by the way I use my walk (breathes into her mouth) I'm a woman's man (breathes) No time to talk...

(ANGELA's heart feels the Bee Gees surround her, the muscles start working, the oxygen starts flowing. Her eyes slowly open.)

HOT CPR DUDE: (super excited) Whether you're a brother, or whether you're a mother,you're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.

(ANGELA smiles, he picks her up and they start to dance. Onlookers let out a gleeful "Hooray!" and everyone, so overcome with joy, breaks out in their best Travolta. A disco ball appears from the heavens, the floor erupts into colorful squares. Life is amazing. HOT CPR DUDE continues to sing.)

HOT CPR DUDE: (super excited) And ev'rybody shakin' and we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Ah, ha, ha, ha. Stayin' alllllllllllllllllllllliiiiiiiiiiiiivvvvvvvvvvvvveeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

(ANGELA stops dancing.)

ANGELA: Shit, you are a falsetto.

(The group stops dancing, the disco ball is pulled up. ANGELA exits, alive and still single.)



http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20081017/ap_on_he_me/med_stayin__alive

Oh America-

I Laughed Out Loud

In public.

Someone got paid to make this.

SCARY!

That this many people saw New Kids on the Block at The Staples Center in Los Angeles.


(Thanks for the pic Malia. My jealousy rages on.)

I love this song but....

LOVE THIS SONG!

But someone tell me what the hell tribal people have to do with anything?

I hope Kanye's room is scotch guarded.

Chestnut Bombs

I love me some chestnuts. In fact, I still roast them whenever the season comes around. (But not over an open fire, get your head out of Christmas. Usually on the stove.)

We have chestnut trees at school. A couple are right in front of the Performing Arts Building. And these are mega chestnuts, like the heavyweight champions of nuts.

And these trees are tall. And fall is hitting, leaves are changing, they are falling off the trees and with the leaves come kamikaze nuts.

These chestnuts are like little torpedoes. They come down hard-I've seen them take down branches as they drop-and I will bet you money one is going to come down hard on me because that would be so my luck that I get assaulted by a nut.

Needless to say, I'm scared.

Quarantine....Scary Movie Numero 2

I actually went to the movies this weekend, and spent a huge eleven dollars to see "Quarantine" with one of my roommates.

Since we don't have television or internet at home (hence the less frequent posts), we had no idea what we were getting into. It had the high possibility of being simply retarded but it wasn't.

First off, the cinematography is freaking cool. It is Blair Witch like, in that the camera was recovered afterward, or that is the assumption. But the camera is not only a metaphorical character but it is actually a character, like there is someone attached to that thing talking. Anyway, I thought it was pretty gosh darn cool.

And it is a modern day zombie movie with a really good twist-and by twist I mean a believable reason why people are eating others. It actually made sense and was surprising.

So, a suggest it if you have nothing better to do. It was an enjoyable scary movie, it certainly made the audience jump.


Some of the highlights were:
1. Seeing an old lady jump a cop and chew off his neck
2. Seeing the CDC drill into someone's head
3. Seeing a five year old run around like a demon
4. Whatever the HELL was upstairs, like way upstairs. JESUS.
5. Having the audience yell at the "zombie" to "drag the bitch"
6. Having all the girls in the audience let out a "No", when the hot firefighter ate it. I was included in this group.



He made me want to move back to Los Angeles...

Womanizer Woman-Womanizer Womanizer

Have you heard the new Britney Spears song?

I won't put it here cause it is 100% brainwash. It should be studied in it's power to be so awesomely bad but eventually so gosh darn good.

The first time you hear it you are like, "This is so awful. Why am I alive? Who thought this was a good idea?"

Second time you are like, "Well-it's ok. The chorus isn't so bad. But who actually says 'Womanizer' nowadays?"

Third time you singing, "'Womanizer, Woman-Womanizer, You're a womanizer, Oh Womanizer, Oh You're a Womanizer Baby, You, You You Are, You, You You Are"


This posting alone could get me excommunicated from Sarah Lawrence.

But if you are reading this and you actually claim you don't know a Britney Spears song-I say you are a big fat liar and I challenge you to a duel.

Stress!!!!

On the news today they said that a recent survey shows that 8 in 10 people are stressed about the economy. I know-mind blowing. Like we needed a survey to tell us that.

Well, Stress and I had a close relationship for a long time. We would go to work together, we would sleep together, I was in love with the bastard. He made me so productive, he gave me purpose.

Then we started to fight a bit. He was getting on my nerves-and by "on" I mean completely destroying them. I knew I had to end it. It was hard. It was the longest relationship I ever had. I think we officially met in 9th grade. It's hard to say. But it had gone on too long but it was time I took a stand. After all, he gave me heart problems and vertigo-that son of a bitch.

And New York is full of Stress. I just can't escape him. But we won't get back together. Even if he is all over the bodies of the overly enthusiastic undergrads, at the asshole at the traffic light angry you are turning left-you get the point.

And Stress, he likes to get around. If someone has a bit of Stress on them-he can get to you too.

But I am scared of old patterns. Cause Stress is growing. He is in the air, infecting the continent, and while the studies aren't out I would be bold to say he is seeing lots of other people in lots of other countries. He's a true player.

So-solutions? What can I do to not get involved again?


Tips via the web....

1. Sleep
2. Eat healthy
3. Smile
4. Set your boundaries
5. Get Zen (meditate, yoga)


What I do?

1. Treadmill combined with lots of Ne Yo
2. Dark chocolate
3. Work on my play (Well-all the characters are super stressed in that and there is no happy ending. But I am not stressed writing it.)
4. Look at the bright side (Ex: "The economy will be shit when I graduate and I probably won't get a job but I have my health. I run a nine minute mile!")
5. Walk around with ibuprofen
6. Drink so much green tea I am practically Asian

Overheard...

Two professors in the theater lobby today debating if they should take their savings out of the bank and store it under their mattresses at home.

Go Recycle Yourself

I just want to point out on that I am currently on a PC.

And I went to go empty the trash bin and you know what? It is no longer called the trash bin.

Nooooooooooo-it is the recycle bin.

Are you kidding me? Really! Really! Where are my documents being recycled to? The big recycle center in the sky? Or maybe Microsoft will keep them in a dark room in a server, like AT&T did with people's phones records, to use as collateral when people have to prove I am a bad bad person.

Political Correctness to the point of idiocy. What are we becoming?

Attention Unemployed Women- Hefner is Calling

So Playboy wants to do a "Women of Wall Street" spread where those who lost their jobs can now "loose their shirts" a whole other way.

I don't know how I feel about that-especially if I was someone who lost their job. I don't think I would look at myself and say, "Well, don't know how I will pay rent, or eat, but damn my rack is still rocking. Life is not bad at all."

A spokesman for Playboy said:
"Whether you offer them $500 or $1,000 or $2,000 a piece, that's probably not going to change anybody's mind. The reason they do this is because they want the attention, the opportunity, the experience of doing it. It's not really for the money."

Only $2,000? Or maybe $500? Wow, the economy really is in bad condition.

Well, luckily I don't have to treat this as a possibility unless they do a spread of "Women Playwrights" or "Women of Independent Contractors AKA 1090 Whores"

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20081002/od_nm/us_playboy;_ylt=ArP8ZDHeyX5nlN6Km_o0l2ms0NUE

Go Economy!

I tell you, of all the times to move to NY to get an MFA in Theatre-this is probably not the best one.

ALIEN!

Watched the first scary movie of the month.

Now I have never seen "Alien." Not all the way through, I'd only seen the monologue at the end where Ripley is making the last entry in the shuttle holding her cat.

Well, lots of screams in this one ONLY because of fluids. There is that gel shit that comes out of the alien, there is that creamy looking sweat off the robot, I mean-imagine being on the goo crew for this film.

There were lots of "oh no he didn't" moments:
-See that picture above? No way do I want some acidic blooded octopus blob attached to my face.
-A robot! A robot! Really? And filled with white puss goo? Really!
-What the hell is that puncher thing that comes out of the alien?
-Why in the hell, when you got some foreign acidic blooded thing attached to a crew member in a sick room, does everyone come in with either no protection or just a surgical mask? Where are the bio hazard suites? Seriously?
-OPEN COFFEE. The people on this ship are java addicts of the worse kind and there are computers, electronics and they drink coffee in open cups. AND LEAVE IT BY THE COMPUTERS. It could fall. It could destroy the wiring. I mean, they got that whole alien thing on board killing everyone but it could have gotten a lot worse if someone's coffee spilled and destroyed the motherboard or something.


I remember in a film theory class, there was an essay by a feminist film theorist that said "Alien" was all about man's fear of the power of woman and birth. So while watching this thing, I was really searching for the placenta hater references.
I did find a couple....like those pods with the aliens inside, the fact that Ripley is always the one who is right and NO ONE listens, the fact that main control is called "Mother."

But really, after watching this film, I have to say the deep meaning is that cats rule. Because not only does Jones the orange tabby survive but escapes the clutches of the Alien THREE TIMES. And when Ripley and Jones get to blast into the ever after, that cat is a cool cucumber. Absolutely no signs of stress, she still wants to be picked up, she wants to snuggle, she could care less.

So I think the lessons to take from this film are:
-If a woman says "Don't open the hatch cause there is some ugly ass creature sucking on that guy's face"-you should really listen
-Cats rule over dogs. For this viewing month...Cats 1, Dogs 0
-Angela hates goo

Don't Forget to Register

An Email from John

This is a video my dad sent me.

When did John get so internet savvy?

My Little Ponies-F@cked Up

I loved My Little Ponies-they were the best thing about Santa cause I got one every Christmas.

So when Michael sent me this link for an artist who just totally messes with my precious childhood playthings my reaction is...

No! What are you doing?/Wow, that is pretty cool/Jesus those things are crazy/These can fuck you up.

So go and look and just think...which one of these would have totally scarred you if you found it in your stocking?

http://spippo.deviantart.com/gallery/#Custom-My-Little-Ponies

A Month of FEAR!!!!

So..since it is the month of Halloween and seeing how my broke ass will probably be sans costume, I am dedicating the blog this month to things that scare me.

Who knows what path that will take but it should be a nice focal point. I think Bumble Bee tuna will be sometime in the spring and who knows-my mom's birthday is in November so many next month will be the month of Enza. (Probably not actually...) But for Brynn I will watch lots of crap horror movies. yessss!

So anyway, things that scare you! Or me! Or us! Or whatever.

I would just like to point out though that I have never used Halloween as a time to get all scary. With the exception of having to do 4 hours of tarot reading for the last two years (which freaks the shit out of many...) I am really super kosher during this month.


Just look at my history of costumes:

-A giant pink bunny for TWO YEARS (this was Enza's doing, it was giant and pink. I can't remember what I ever was before that. But during those years my brother was a clown. So I obviously got the better deal.)

-Lady Lotsoflocks (I think that was a toy at the time. All I remember is it was a plastic dress. Yay 80s.)

-A Baby from grades 4-12 (you get to come to school in pajamas, need I say more.)

-50s dinner girl (I think that was a 6th grade break from the baby thing.)

-A construction worker (The time we were the village people. A great photo if you can find it. Pubescent Angela in a tucked in flannel shirt and authentic yellow construction hat. You have fun with that.)

-Gypsy (For the tarot readings. Which wasn't any different than what I usually wear, except excessive in scarfs. So think Angela circa forty years from now.)


So that is it really...so this month should be fun. Hopefully it will end in another 4 hour marathon of tarot reading, cause there is nothing I like more than watching young men cry as I tell them their future. (Not cause they are going to die or something-it's just fun to rattle the skeptics.)

HELP!

So writing random reactions to life is just not working out for me. How narcissistic is this?

I was thinking about how to make these posts a bit different besides stupid rants and quasi-youtube worship.

Here is what I am going to propose, I think every month should have a theme (cause I am thematic don't ya know) and everything will rotate out that.

Does that sounds plain stupid?

I could be anything...
Fall
Pumpkins
Stilettos
Santa Claus
Whipped Cream
Thongs

Who knows, the sky is the limit. So for those that are still reading this (who is still reading this anyway?) please leave a comment and in two days, the games will begin.

Yee Haw!


Now get down with your big bad self.

Apologies...

Every three months I have a serious existential crisis which has seemed to bleed into blogging.

I am not sure really what the function of my random thoughts are and really who cares...

Oh my god, when did I become so emo.

Okay, let us start again.

Every day, I have lots to do. So I will try to keep up better than I have.

Word.


PS And all East Coasters keep talking about how fall is coming. The markets are filled with the most brilliant apples, there are pumpkins, it's getting cooler. So get ready for future photos of the changing leaves.
I hear I am in prime location for that.

A Daily Dose of Brilliance

"Recruit a Team of Teenagers..."

There are certain things that happen when you reminisce on times of old.
-Nostalgia
-Laughs
-WTFs

So the roomie and I were talking about Power Rangers randomly during a writing break of mine. We had a fierce debate about which color Billy was, Red or Blue. I said Red cause I remember Red was the hot one-alas I was wrong.

We of course then had to watch old Power Ranger clips online and when we saw the credits we couldn't believe it.

How did we not catch this as kids? It's like watching He-Man and realizing "Holy man, that guy was gay."

Spot the badness if you can.

I'd Tap That

Dissecting the Horoscope

I am a Capricorn. You should know that, but with an Aquarius rising so I have a soul.

And I read the horoscope everyday, if you don't you should too. (bridgettwalther.com)

Reading a horoscope is like trying to fit a generalized shoe on your foot. What does it mean, where is that in my life, how will work out and feel and when?

So here is the horoscope for this weekend, let us dissect.

"Weekend Update: You decide to take a new approach to a puzzle affecting your lifestyle, career and overall wellness. Friday morning gets the process started."

This morning I was running late to work and am trying to figure out how to best utilize an hour so I don't have to wake up earlier in the morning. I decided that I should eat toast in the car instead of something that requires me sitting at a table.

"You're excited and slightly unsure about the whole thing, but feel compelled to at least try something different."

Well, ya, toast is like carb heaven. And with butter? I wonder how much more I am going to have to work out to undo all of that...

"Mid morning may seem a bit confusing. Don't leave valuables or money unguarded. Keep irreplaceable things very close to you. You might be slightly absentminded during this phase."

I have seventy five cents, an ipod, and this computer. Which is on my lap. Or is it on my lap? Where's my phone....

"Later during the afternoon and evening, you feel like you're on track, coming home and doing something significant. And you are. You fall asleep knowing that you're onto something potentially life changing."

I have to imitate a bird today in seminar. I am doing an owl, and then I have to stay late at school. Maybe my bird call will be so impressive that people are like, "Wow, you should do voice over."

"Saturday morning and afternoon establish new ideas, routines and rules. All good so far. You're willing to try to break away from your usual routine. You've reached a point of frustration with the usual, so-called normal stuff because it's demanding more but offering less."

And instead of doing my homework and writing that scary ass new play I might want to perfect my owl call and go into the woods by myself and find some inspiration and have a conversation with some random feathery male.

"Saturday night is cautionary. Don't take risks or do something that feels odd, wrong or threatening. Saturday is bad for debates or arguments, thanks to planetary volatility."

But it would be so me to find a new talent like "World Acclaimed Owl Caller" and then say..."No, why am I doing that? I am sure there are so many other people out there who sound like owls and really, where is the money in that. And why do we need owl callers anyway? We need more doctors but health care sucks. Damn. What the hell am I doing. Will someone tell me what I am doing!!! Goddamn health care. My knee keeps cracking but who can fix that. Shit. What if I need surgery. How can you pay for that with owl calling. I am about to get volatile. Whooo. Stop it Angela!"

"Sunday morning might begin with a sinus problem or headache."

Because you know, the frolic through the woods on my owl adventure made me sick. Of course, stupid birds.

"It gets better as the day progresses. You start to feel like you're finally in the groove and part of something. You begin to feel that you belong."

Maybe I overreacted. Maybe it doesn't matter. Mammal, bird, this is life man. We are all in it together.
I should buy a bird.

Random Bull

The news depresses me, and while I don't understand much of economics, reading about how everything is going downhill makes me really uneasy. Not that I have stocks, lord I don't have enough for gas now. But what the hell am I doing incurring so much debt during a time like this? Is it good, is it bad? I need to date an economist.

But then you read a story about how a bull was running around Queens yesterday but died before it could get tranquilized.

Yes, a bull. Please note that Queens has no zoo. No, it was just a random bull running through a borough. And as I read the story I thought, "Who just has a full sized bull laying around the house in QUEENS which isn't like massive property land."

The report ended with one sentence, "An NYPD spokesman says it's not known where the bull had been kept."

Well, I guess there are worse things than a quickly collapsing money market. Now if only we had some bull running through that market. (Dear non-economist friends, pull deep in to that high school brain for that definition.)

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080919/ap_on_fe_st/odd_nyc_bull;_ylt=AkbysdFNas9uizp6uahOOeGs0NUE

Love This

I found this as I was researching my new piece. I love it. That doesn't make me psycho.

Deep Thoughts by a Grad Student

Grad School is turning out to be like making an omelette with your brain. You know this, you have a little that, we will throw something in there and then whip it up and fry you and see what we get. (It isn't that graphic or invasive but it is a metaphor, feel free to go with it.)


So what is cooking now?


If you make a play without it being social commentary, is it being lazy? Are you failing your craft? Or is it commentary regardless? Thus I am actually really not lazy?

I haven't filled up my gas tank in two weeks and not even close to E. Nothing deep there, just read it and weep.

If my back hurts this much now and I am only carrying a couple spirals and books each day, how old am I in body years?

Oral sex on stage. Is it bad, lowbrow, fine, or go for it just don't invite your mother?

Is there any way to do improv in a way that doesn't make you want to rip your hair out and curl into the fetal position?

How long can I go without Thai, Chinese, or Vietnamese food before I go insane?

Why am I here? Why am I doing this? Should I have kept my childhood dream and become a doctor?

Will my writing ever be legible again? What the hell does anything say?

If I continue to eat almonds for lunch, is there some kind of consequence I could face in the next couple of weeks?

Is this first overdraft notice during my years of grad a right of passage? Can I say that with a straight face?

Is it ok to wake up in a cold sweat because I worry about my financial aid package? Cause I do and I am very worried.

Holy Sh*t

I have been officially in New York three weeks now. And it has really seemed just like a strange time warp vacation. I don't know what time I am warping to but it is a bit unreal.

Then yesterday after school, with a cohort of wonderful MFA comrades, I go to the Lincoln Center to the Performing Arts Library.

And walking through the streets it finally hit me. That I am in New York. My life flashed before my eyes and I thought, "How in the hell did I get here?"

That is basically the mantra of the last three years of my life. (Wow, deep, I know.)

But I am in New York. And I kinda like it.

Thank God We Know This Now

Cause you know, this really speaks about a person's character.

The things they report on.


http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/thedishrag/2008/09/sarah-palins-pi.html


(Oh and OBAMA!!!, in case you want to know.)

Pathetic

I was putting on my face today, with my trusty Bare Minerals* in hand.

*Bare Minerals (a brief lesson)
-It is foundation
-It is probably less than an ounce
-$25 just for color, not counting the Mineral Veil (if you don't know that that is, don't worry about it.)
-It is powder
-It is freakin' amazing

So, I was putting on my face today with my trusty Bare Minerals in hand. Suddenly, I hit my hand and the container with the lid off fell onto the ground.

Little puffs of foundation and a little sprinkling of powder hits the ground and I say, "Oh no. My precious."

Yes, I said it like that.

Jesus.

Everyone is Getting Married...

So with the whole explosion of engagements, weddings, and births that seem to make up the social landscape of my life, I sometimes wonder if I am where I should be.

Lord, I sound like a hormonal baby making machine-that is not what I mean. But as friends go to birthing classes and carry around babies and buy houses and show off new rings, I am able to show none of that but much of the following:


-An extensive tea collection and old Krups espresso machine
-A credit card bill I hope to pay off before my interest rate raises in November
-A kinda profile on Match which has not been completed nor is it posted because I like my men sans Internet
-Another overdraft notice from WaMu
-A new home with 3 roommates as I get yet another degree in a profession that pays (note the sarcasm)
-Debt, lots of debt for that before mentioned other degree
-An irrational fear that my room in the attic is haunted
-Plotting various methods of attack if this fear materializes and a ghost boogies his way past my bed at night


There's probably more but the heat and humidity are quickly taking away any life force that is left in me...

Shame.

A Little Afternoon Delight

***sigh***

"The War Within".....F*@&

So bless Netflix, it is a present that gets delivered to your door once a week. When I first signed up, I went queue crazy, selecting so many movies that I am set for 2 years.

Therefore, I have no idea what movie is coming next and a lot of films I selected cause they just seemed interesting.

My Friday treat was the "The War Within." I wanted to chill out after the first week of school so I go into my bed with my laptop, make some tea and prepare to relax.

A little bit of backstory. I live 30 minutes from Manhattan via train. And that train lands in Grand Central station, where then I go my merry way on to whatever subway line there is. The inside of the station is gorgeous. Marble, sea foam green roof, and the sounds of a thousand echos as feet furiously cross the ivory floors.

I have been to Grand Central three times just this week.

So "The War Within." First off, this is gutsy film making. If I had the idea for this screenplay I would never go through with it. My inner critic and censor would be so loud and forbidding that it would never come to be.

The story of this film is about a Pakistani man who is tortured and imprisoned in Pakistan then sneaks his way into America to do Allah's will. It is about one's relationships to family, country, the heart, and faith.

Needless to say at the end of the movie he straps a bomb to his chest, stands in the main concourse of Grand Central station, right by the kiosk where I buy my train ticket, and blows himself and the station up.

My God. I mean. My God. Now when I go to Grand Central, I am hyper aware of anyone holding a briefcase which is practically everybody.

But the moral of the story is: Stay on top of your Queue kids. Don't let it go crazy.

Here Comes the Story of the Hurricane...

Living without a television or cable is probably the most Bay Area thing I have ever done. (Besides drinking soy.) So when current events go on overdrive, it is hard to keep up with the online periodicals. It's more fact, less sensation, and no live action.

It makes me feel as if I am looking at the world from a very withdrawn window whereas the live picture makes it so much more real.

But then you come across lines and stories within AP, NY Times, or Reuters articles that just lodge in your brain and make it suddenly real.

Here is an amazing section of one report on Hurricane Ike.




From the Associated Press:


It could be days before officials know how many people have been killed and injured because of the storm.

Millions of people have been left without power, and officials need to get to more than 140,000 people who decided to brave the storm instead of fleeing it.

Mark Miner, a spokesman with the state government, said Saturday that "you can't force people to leave their homes.

"They made a decision to ride out the storm. Our prayers are with them," he told The Associated Press.

Some residents, like 75-year-old Sedonia Owen and her son Lindy McKissick decided to stay close to home so they could stop any potential looting after other residents left.

"My neighbours told me, 'You've got my permission. Anybody who goes into my house, you can shoot them,"' Owen, who was on her front porch holding a shotgun, told The Associated Press.

The Important Text that Woke Me

Stephanie (2:10am): Emilio Estevez or Charlie Sheen?

Angela (2:10am): As they are now?

Stephanie (2:12am): no, 1987

Angela (2:13am): Emilio cause it was pre-Mighty Ducks

Jordan 4ever

So a friend of mine is going to a very special concert soon. Or in the next couple of months.

Well, regardless, now she will be of drinking age so when they start singing, "Please Don't Go Girl" she will be able to handle it and when "Step by Step" begins to play, she will know that during step one she can have lots of fun but during step five the time will arrive.

Hu!!!!

A Manly Moment

So been here-2 full weeks. I think?

And in a land of skinny hipsters with skinny jeans that are just a crime against humanity, I would like to say I need to have me a MAN moment.

You Can Take the Girl Out of Calfornia...

But you can't take the earthquakes out of the girl.

I don't mean in a metaphorical Tori Amos sort of way. I have a funny habit of plotting out earthquake escape plans in every building I go to. What door would be safe, what windows are future shard traps, etc.

A stupid waste of time obviously since NY doesn't have earthquakes and thank God because the buildings out here would sway themselves into rock dust. Can't happen, I know.

But I am hardwired to be rumble ready. Maybe it was those articles in the Chronicle saying that there is a 99% chance that California will have a MAJOR earthquake in the next couple of years.

Clearly I lack the specifics but I mean, go 1%. You can do it!

No, he can't. There will be a shakin' and a rollin' going on and regardless of the coast, part of me is still very much in California.

It's funny to be in a place now where the majority of people don't know what the '94 and '89 are. (Those are the Northridge and Loma Prieta quakes.)

Anyway, so now when I think "QUAKE!" I replace that word with "SNOW!"

Trying to switch gears. So instead of, "That building would crumble, those stairs won't be safe, the best place for closed toe shoes would be..." I think, "If ice were on this street, if snow was on this hill, if I have to walk this far from the parking lot in slush, if I have to park my car and it is buried here, if my feet are this cold now in December they will be...."

I know, a fine topic to be writing on a Friday night. When instead I should be going out and getting lucky or something like that but I am the most morbid person some of you know.

A really sad truth. Cause clearly some of you need to get out more.

Random but Delicious

Chances are, your mother had a thing for Tom Jones.

I am doing image research for a new play and now that includes YouTube clips (cause in case you didn't notice, I am obsessed.) And I found this during my search.

Gotta say, I wouldn't mind me some Tom Jones. And I have no shame admitting that.

Hot damn.

For All You Super Mario Fans

It's late, I had too much coffee this afternoon, therefore I find this amazing.

RED DRESS!

A critical look at the Jonas Brothers.

Because really, it is good to be critical of our current cultural super stars and there is nothing like listening to the Jonas Brothers and thanking all the gods in all the heavens that I am no longer thirteen years old.

And I do not choose to listen the them, I haven't bought an album, I don't watch television, but they are on the radio. On the top 40 to be exact.

And in my teenie bopper years, I can't recall being crazy about any particular group. I remember dancing like a maniac to LaBouche but that is about it. (And that was kick ass liquid latex goodness so you can't hate.)

But the Jonas Brothers, when they come on the radio, I can't change it because I listen to their whinny pubescent voices and can't understand who would listen to this shit and find it enjoyable. There is no quality, it is like nails on glass. I mean, if young people think this is art then we are all headed to a very bad place. But then again what quality are thirteen years old looking for but good hair and cool clothes, the typical Disney hero.

But I never change the station when "Burnin' Up" plays on the radio because of the gem that explains why this group is so life threatening.

So go to 1:05 and stop once you see Joe massage his pretend mustache. (A gross misuse of this gesture by the way.)




You want to kill yourself right? The idea of a sexy red dress seems like a death sentence. You are thinking, "Man, if chickens could sing they would sound like that."

Now go jump over some lasers and pop your trench coat collar. Cause I just blogged about JB.

The end is near.

Rights for Smokers

I guarantee that if you walk out of any Sarah Lawrence building and turn your head 180 degrees, you will find a smoker puffing on a cigarette.

Now coming from the land of California where smokers are pretty much shoved to the side so much so that Newsom opted to get rid of the sales of cigarettes in the city of San Francisco, I have to say this is a bit of a culture shock.

Even more so when I received an email from the college saying that while they recognize the rights of smokers, they ask that they smoke a farther away from buildings because there have been complaints.

I can hear a certain percentage of you groan, actually I can name who you are.

But remember, smokers are people too.

Something California doesn't agree with. No opinions here, just ironic observation.

Dear Anyone-Who-Does-Not-Live-on-the-East-Coast,

I know it is hard for us, the whole time difference thing. I used to be the same as all you glorious PST peeps. But that was so three hours ago.

Know that in my heart, I am still PST but now that I am EST, I live by new rules guided by a clock I cannot control. So when you text me at 9pm, it is really midnight. And the older I get, the earlier I wake up. And the earlier I wake up, the earlier I fall asleep.

You should know that my phone never goes off. Never. I am a fatalist, so if there is an earthquake, an accident, someone ran out of gas, or the bastard finally lived up to his name, I want to make sure my phone is within reach. But most of the time, trauma is not what wakes me.

You should know that when you call at midnight, my "Ziggy Stardust" ring tone will blare. And when you text at midnight, PST, and "Don't Stop Believing" starts to sing from my phone, you have interrupted my REM sleep at 3am.

And if god forbid you are in Hawaii, like a newlywed bride I know, and you want to call me after dinner-say around 9:30pm, it will be 3:30am my time.

And like the sadist I am, I will pick up the phone no matter what to hear your tales about surfing or read your texts asking, "Have you started classes yet?"

In the wee hours of the morning, I am not in class. I am half alive, unable to correctly spell via text, and the only joy in talking to me is the chance to hear my Barry White morning voice.

And if you don't mind me returning your call or text when I wake up, 6:30am EST, then continue to make contact.

I will let you do the math on that one.

Much Love,
-Angela

WTF of the day

10:40pm, Bronx.


"24 Hour Wash and Lube"


A sign that glittered and glowed near the MetroNorth train track.


Who in the hell needs an 24 hour option for an oil change? Sketch central I say. And if someone comes rolling up to that joint anytime past 10pm, checking the trunk should be mandatory. Cause who cares about the next 3,000 miles anytime after 5pm?

Someone on the run or someone who has a body in the trunk, that's what I say.

Too Much=Death

Sometimes life just rocks. Like being in NYC at 9pm, walking past the Empire State Building with the coolest old intern ever-Ms. Lillian.

It is nice to be able to go to Manhattan on a whim after school, a luxury I am sure will be more and more rare as classes and work load explode.

But, as a newly poor grad student (yes, even more money disabled than I was as a working theater artist) I feel that if you are going to go out, you have to make the dollar count.

So if you go to a sandwich place with a cool person, let us say her name is also Lillian, and you order a tuna melt that weighs about 3 pounds just in tuna, you better eat the whole thing. Because the bill is precious and should not be wasted, no matter how big the meal is.

But let me tell you something-eating a 3 pound tuna melt is not money efficient. It is not a good time. Hours of riveting conversations about hims, NY, SF, and the East Coast liberal arts experience will not help. Walking for an hour afterwards around the village and mid-town will de-stress a bit but not enough to make you go back to your original dress size.

That is the moral of the story. No matter how broke you are, too full is hell. Especially when you have to be on a train for forty minutes.

But I had an ipod and played some good jams to keep my stomach from completely rebelling.

Can't get enough of this one....

Sweet dreams kiddies.

There is a God.

While living in the Bay Area, I had certain staples in my diet that I could not live without. Pho, Starbucks, eggrolls, burritos, and anything from Trader Joes. (This of course does not include the self made goodness of cutlets and sauce.)

I tried to emotionally prepare myself for the transition to NY, predicting that my body would rebel and my soul would be a little less bright. And I was right to do so. The food in my neighborhood is Brazilian and southern. The nearest Vietnamese place is in Flushings, Manhattan, or New Jersey. And the Mexican food place around the corner is pathetic.

So I resigned myself to these hard truths and assumed that Trader Joes was not a possibility, until this morning. When I went online. And right there at the Trader Joes website it said there was one, in Scarsdale. Thirteen miles from my house.

So I did better than run, I drove to my little oasis. And right when I walked in and saw the staff in their Hawaiian print shirts I knew-I was home. I rampaged the aisles to get my plastic boxed fruit, nuts, way too much dried fruit, and orange chicken. (If you have never had the orange chicken from TJ's, it is in the freezer aisle. It is the most ah-mazing thing ever. Go now.)

Of course I was upset to see they did not sell Dixie Peach Juice out here but I made up or it by buying lots of pasta, ricotta, and calamari rings.

I have enough food for weeks now and I feel like I can eat again. Because after shopping for years and TJs, going into a regular market seems blasphemous and I start to get wary of anything that is not organic and start staging grand wars in my head where my healthy cells are being battled by evil fruit and vegetables and chicken or beef that is not actually chicken or beef but really some strange version of chicken or beef that has larger parts but no eyes or beaks or feet. And I see the chemically enhances super non-food winning and my healthy cells dying a slow death and perishing quietly in the night with a soft little cry of "whhhhhyyyyy?"

So yes, I was traumatized by Professor Green's lit class freshman year of college. Never again will I look at GMOs and think, "So what?"

But Trader Joes. Fuck yes.

You really don't know what you got till it's gone, so if you live in Cali, go out now and buy yourself some dark chocolate truffles and $4 flowers from your local TJs. Because life is too short.

Cackle Approved

Enjoy.

What to do when it's raining, 90% humid, and you know no one.

1. Finish unpacking those pain in the ass items you happily neglected.
2. Watch way too much Youtube. Including an unhealthy amount of Rick Astley.
3. Google Rick Astley to learn how old he is and if he is married.

4. Catch up with Mom on the phone and discuss thrilling things like snow tires and student loans.
5. Superpoke too many people on facebook.
6. Explore the basement with the roommate. Upon discovering a creepy cellar (too afraid to go in there) and bathroom (which looks like the last time it was used, Eisenhower was in office) we run out immediately and try not to think about it.
7. Drink a pot of tea and crave cookies so much you walk around the house muttering "Cookies. Cookies."
8. Watch "My So-Called Life" online.
9. Yes, you read that right. It is online.
10. http://abc.go.com/player/?channel=69769
11. You are welcome.
12. Become depressed that your new office corkboard is naked.

13. Try to hit the high E during an impromptu rendition of "Loving You"
14. Decide to move the trash cans while it is pouring rain and the neighbors watch cause you want to feel "youthful."
15. Miss SF while listening to Aretha's album "Live at the Fillmore"
16. While eating ice cream seriously reconsider the decision to be a twenty-something with pigtails.

Dear Saint Mary's College...

No one at Sarah Lawrence wears short shorts.

I know-it's hard to believe. It will be ok, that doesn't make them bad people. Skirts to the knees and hipster-tastic apparel is only for the most granola of SMC's population. But I have to say-that is all anyone wears around here.

I don't know what to say-I miss seeing asses pop out as I walk down hallways. I miss seeing "PINK" or "JUICY" or "SMC" proudly displayed in block letters across two cheeks. I don't understand why there is no skin and unconformable "I saw your ____" moments.

Oh SMC, what is a college without your short shorts. I will have to accept and get accustomed to an entirely new college girl uniform: Roman sandals, hobo dresses, and huge 70's inspired bug glasses. Yes, bigger than even the ones you wear.

Farewell.

That Muggy Feeling

The only thing you can do when it is 90-something and humid is seriously contemplate how to attach a medium sized fan to your shirt so wherever you go you look like a divalicious pop star, which is a small price to pay for a little bit of heavenly breeze.



I would kill to see some fog right now. I would shave my head for beach air. I would do bad things to bad people just to have AC in my room. I would rather live in the San Fernando Valley again and drive a car with leather and no AC than be surrounded by humidity.

Humidity kills. It does. It kills energy, patience, and comfort. Sure, you might lose water weight just by walking up three stairs and your skin might glow but goddamn if I am not covered in wet blankets all day long and have the stamina of a senior citizen.

Granted, it is not as bad as other parts of the country but you can be sure as hell I will never move to those places. New York is enough. And while the Bay Area lacked AC, it was unpleasant but doable.

Lacking AC out here is just-cruel and unusual. If I leave water in my room and drink it at 9pm, the glass is hot, the water is ready for a tea bag. My bed feels like it has just left a dryer. The hardwood floor is warm. Don't even think of boiling water in the kitchen or ever looking at the stove. You could dehydrate instantly.

For the love of God. I miss ya CA.

ABBA!

It's a horrible guilty pleasure. Really, listening to ABBA, rocking out in my car is almost as pathetic as my days screaming to Cabaret in my dad's purple Camero.

(Yes it was low riding, yes I wore a school skirt, and yes that bomb was the bomb dot com.)

But after going to a wedding this weekend, I have decided ABBA is great but not meant to be danced because you look like you are doing community/dinner theater. There is no way to feel it because you want to be it and no one can be it without looking like a dork.

At least that is what I look like-no judgement towards ABBA dancers everywhere. Unless you too can admit to dorkiness. If so, then welcome, I am two stepping for you too.

Now, this one is my ABBA anthem.

Rock on.

Angela's Final Thoughts

I still have no idea what day it is and can't tell what time it is.

And a lot has happened in these two weeks-even this first week in NY has been funny, stressful, and sad, but hell with the kumbaya stuff.

What everyone should now about road trips:
1. Do NOT go on them when you have to be a bridesmaid in two weeks. DON'T DO IT. Now say a prayer that the dress zips.
2. Start from NY to avoid the subtraction of sleep hours every other day as the time zone changes.
3. Work zones are alive and well in the summer in places that snow.
4. The west coast is gorgeous, the midwest is tedious.
5. Top 40 is really top 5. Get ready to listen to the same songs over and over and over again.
6. Give your partner space on the road. It is okay not to talk every minute.
7. You want Quyen driving when you have to pass traffic on a two land road.
8. MFK is the best game ever to keep you up on late night drives.
9. Have a blog so parents, friends, and others don't call you everyday asking for detailed updates.
10. Enjoy the scenery. Driving across the country is amazing. So many places, so many different cultures and beliefs. Don't judge, no matter how they scare the shit out of you.


And that's it. Not sure what to do with this blog from here, if you want to see it keep going, let me know?

Although what insight I could give about stuff in general-I have no idea.



Barstow!!!!
Location: Barstow, CA.

Road Trip Tips from Quyen

What you should know before embarking on a road trip.

1. Leave all your workout DVDs, equipment, and gear at home. The cheap hotels are too small to work out in. You think you will use them to work out, and you can certainly try, but you are better off running laps around a local park.

2. You will gain weight, having to eat out for every meal. If you are training for a marathon, or a half marathon, taking a road trip will set you back some. The mid-west is all about buffets. Sometimes that's they only place you'll find a salad bar.

3. Do NOT rely on just a GPS/navigator. It will tell you to turn left onto a one way street or drive off a cliff. Bring a road map as a back up.

4. Women, bring a romance novel with you. Even if you never read it, claiming to have been absorbed in a romance novel which was being read out loud is a great segway for flirting with the cop when you get pulled over. Find one with the trashiest cover.

5. Gas is cheaper if you pay in cash. Credit cards have surcharges.

6. Bring extra cash when driving through the Navajo Nation in Arizona. Along the freeway, tons of wooden shacks serve as Navajo Trading Posts. You'll find authentic Native American Jewelry there. But they never seem to have change so bring small bills.

7. Vegas doesn't look that impressive during the day. Big whoop.

8. Arizona and Co are on CA time during the summer but during all other seasons, they are on Mountain time.

9. Truck stops do not have any bobble heads. They do have, however, tons of jerky. If you're lucky, they may carry turkey or ham jerky.

10. Learn to love coffee if you don't already. You think you can drive for 6 straight hours without it, but you are WRONG. Tea will not cut it. Not all hotels provide coffee/tea makers in the rooms. Ask the locals where you can get some decent coffee. Contrary to popular belief, Starbucks has not taken over the world.

11. Learn how to shift to your low gears in case your drive through CO. Passenger cars will have trouble driving up those steep Rocky Mountains.

12. Invest in an iPod converter for your system if you HATE Country music.

13. National Parks charge entry fees. Expect to pay $25 for the Grand Canyon and Zion National Park each.

14. Yelp.com has great suggestions from the locals and where to spend your money for a decent plate of grub.

15. You will not get much cell phone service in the mid west. Beware of Roaming charges.

16. Do not try Asian food between CA and NY unless the locals on yelp.com recommend it. Your GI track will thank you.

17. Colonial Williamsburg will charge you an arm and a leg to cross some of its preserved colonial village streets. Same thing applies to ENTER most colonial homes there. It's ridiculous.

18. Gettysburg tours do not charge as much as Colonial Williamsburg but it's getting there. Do the free walk through their museum. Do pay the $7 tickets for the Ghost Walk. Cheesy but so much fun.

19. New York streets are a bitch to drive through. Bring extra cash. Every NY bridge have a toll BOTH ways, and trucks get charged more for crossing them. All Express ways (smaller pseudo freeways) at some point have a smaller $1 toll BOTH ways. Watch out for the one second merges off the Express ways. NYers don't really drive often so they 1. don't know how to drive 2. don't know what to do with their cars, 3. don't have any concept of merging.

and last...

20. Be flexible. You may need to make changes along the way.

Quyen's Top ten favorite moments of the Road trip:

1. Listening to the Blues in Chicago. I could marry the Kilborn Alley Blues Band!

2. Eating spicy collard greens at Buddy Guy's Blues place. I love greens!

3. Sleeping in the penthouse suite at the Renaissance in Chicago for $100.

4. Eating amazing Jamaican Jerk Chicken in a small dive of the Bronx.

5. Trying Ukrainian food in the East Village of NY City. I'm a new fan of sauerkraut.

6. Hearing about Angela's woes on biting into pig's ear at a Brazilian Buffet.

7. Navigating the street of NY and almost dying 20 times over. They don't believe in merging signs, or marking the asphalt with clear lane dividers. Basically, they line seven cars next to each other and when the light turns green, they all go and try to fit into a giant one lane road. Not an exaggeration.

8. Going on a candlelight Ghost Walk in Gettysburg even though I didn't see any ghosts.

9. Torturing Angela with Kenny G.

10. Going to a psychic reading in LA where I'm told I'm going to win big money in Vegas. I lost $20 at the Belagio.

There were many more but these are the most memorable.

Driving in NY-F*ck!

So after crossing the country and seeing all sorts of drivers, NYC has to be the worst place imaginable for driving.

So if any of you plan to drive out there, there are somethings you should now.


EUREKA!
Location: New Jersey

1. WTF is an expressway?
There are no freeways really, just these things called expressways. What is an expressway? I have no freakin' idea but here are the likely signs you are on one:
-it is a four lanes with a divider in the middle
-the speed limit is 45 or 50 but the locals drive 70
-it looks like a street, it acts like a street, but it has exits sometimes and ends up in an intersection other times
-the merges are kamikaze maneuvers that even the locals fail at, MISERABLY
-it leaves you feeling pissed, irritated, and your life flashes before your eyes at least twice.

2. Lane markers are for pussies
There are very little dividers for lanes. So is it one? Is it two? Where do you stop at the light? Are we merging?
NY likes to keep you proactive. Make your own way, and if you get side swiped or end up in the middle of the intersection, it's all good.

3. Pedestrians just appear
And they don't care if you are driving towards them.

4. Honking
If you stop to avoid hitting a pedestrian, if you are trying to make a left hand turn, if you are going the speed limit, if you are trying to park, if you are slowing down for an exit, someone will blow their horn at you and on every other occasion break out into a convulsion fits.
And grown men shaking steering wheels while cussing you out with their hands is the perfect cherry to any day.

5. Tolls
Appear at random. In the middle of an expressway, at the beginning of a tunnel, in the middle of a bridge. And they range from $5-10 AND they charge you both ways. So if you miss your exit and have to go through a toll, you gotta go back through it and kiss your grande soy latte and pumpkin muffin for the morning goodbye.

6. Flushing, Japan Town
Should only be driven if you have a death wish. Especially cause the bus drivers act like the are driving sports cars.

The WHOLE Enchilada-The Facts

Distance:
6,000+ miles


States traveled through:
California
Nevada
Arizona
Colorado
Utah
Iowa
Nebraska
Illinois
Indiana
Ohio
West Virginia
Maryland
District of Colombia
Pennsylvania
New Jersey
New York


Quyen Sees Something Dirty
Location: Utah

Tickets:
One, Iowa, Quyen driving
One warning, Utah, Angela driving


Car malfunctions:
One dead car battery


Biggest road rager:
Quyen


Average driving day:
8 hours