My neighbors.

The building we live in is huge. There are approximately 150 apartments. There are 9 staircases (assuming I didn't lose count), 3 elevators, 2 courtyards, and 1 pool. The building itself takes up an entire block (not a square block, just one side of a block), and inside the hallways are seemingly infinite stretches of white walls and purple carpets, disturbed only by grey firedoors ever 30 feet or so. I have gotten lost more than once, and have to go through 6 firedoors to reach the front of the building. The roof is an impressive maze of heating/AC vents, surrounded by peaked bits of roof around the perimeter. The exterior apartments on the 3rd floor all have porches overlooking the roof, and from our side of the building the Hollywood sign is visible between two of the peaks. There are two trash chutes. The ground floor has assigned parking and a laundry room with 12 machines.

These last 2 amenities cause more problems than I would have expected.

Trash. Trash strikes me as something that, while not necessarily pleasant to take care of daily, is not difficult. You take the bag out of the bin, tie it off, and stuff it down the trash chute. I lived in the country for years, and trust me - weekly trips to the dump are a lot less fun. So why is it that my neighbors cannot seem to keep the trash off the floor surrounding the chutes? I'm not just talking dirty kleenex here, either - I'm talking chicken bones, lemon rinds, gum...It's fucking disgusting. I have, on more than one occasion, seen trash bags sitting in front of my neighbors' doors, not even tied off. Today, the door in question was about 10 feet from the trash chute. No wonder we occasionally have roaches.

Laundry. There are, as I mentioned, 12 washers and 12 dryers. Unlike our old building (which had 4 of each, none of which worked very well), it seems that most of the people washing their clothing are housewives, like me, as opposed to the single men and once-a-week housekeepers I usually saw in the West Hollywood building. They are, however, unlike me, terrible housewives. Now, granted, I never dust and rarely clean the toilet, but I know how to do laundry, and I have respect for the fact that other people use the laundry facilities. These bitches ALL use powdered laundry soap, and never bother to contain it within the washing machines. They never clean the lint screens. Today I found a lint screen sitting in a dryer, loose, spreading linty bits all over the otherwise clean dryer. No one ever seems to actually check the machines for missed items. I can't tell you how many loose socks and undies I've found abandoned.

ARGH! I'd go on, but I think I've reached my Annoyance Capacity.

Before I came online, I watched a bit of a show called Celebrity Justice. It may be the saddest excuse for a half hour's programming I've ever heard of. Yes, worse than Texas Justice! There, I've said it. Not even my Katherine-esque devotion to stupid celebrities could make me watch that show again, even if there is nothing else (besides Port Charles) on at 11:30.

BBC Radio did a version of The Lord of the Rings several years ago. I believe it is the version I came across during Christmas shopping, which was priced so absurdly that I doubt there is a single American out there who owns it. I desperately want to hear it, though.

So last night we went to Sean's Everwood screening party. I don't think there is anything stranger than watching a television show in a bar with several people you don't know. While standing up. At least there was wine, even if one glass was approximately three and a half times the price of a bottle of our current favorite. Yay for Trader Joe's!

In other news, there is only a bit more than two months until my 25th birthday.

Dude, someone really wanted to find me.

I just checked the IPs for hits to this page over the weekend, and someone got here through a google search for "Annika." I checked, and the hit was on the fifteenth page of the search results. That's dedication! I have no idea who it was, or I'd send them cookies.

Also.

Will and I had the most splendid weekend. On Saturday we drove out to Antelope Valley. Will says that it is "high plains desert," which I have trouble believing since it is only an hour away from sea-level and my ears didn't pop at all. Maybe the phrase doesn't mean what it sounds like it means. Anyway, we went to a place called the Devil's Punchbowl in the Angeles National Park, which is stunningly gorgeous. There were trails, but we weren't wearing appropriate footwear, so we just wandered down far enough to get some good photos. We stopped at a so-called Farmer's Market (it wasn't, but that was the name of the store) where there was a lunch counter with spectacular Mexican food, and we bought some produce for absurdly low prices.

Yesterday we played Deadlands with Will running the MetaHuman campaign for the first time since we moved. Once again, I am Jenny Sparks. I'll move on since most of my readers are probably not gaming geeks.

Yesterday evening we had the Monday Night Supper Club one day early, as I cannot cook tonight. I made honey-jerk chicken and an assortment of other goodies, and it was great. It is starting to worry me, though, that every time Andy walks into a room Will starts doing his "Andy voice" and doesn't stop until Andy is gone. Now, Andy's voice is pretty sexy, but it's still creepy. To compensate, I have decided to be a Will/Andy shipper.

And so forth...

Tonight, our friend Sean's episode of Everwood airs, and we are going to his screening party. This will be weird, because we hate watching television with other people. On the other hand, there will be booze, and probably finger food. Hee. Fingers.

I am listening to the commentary on The Royal Tenenbaums and just thinking about how good I've got it.

Will is amazingly wonderful, to the point that I can't even describe. Katherine sent me the sweetest (or possibly most disgusting, I'm not sure) PM today. My sister sent us her copy of Alice because Will mentioned enjoying the demo. Jenn came over last night to watch Vampyr with us and didn't make fun of my choice to sleep through the middle. And I am reading Phoebe's paper and will (hopefully) be reading Crystal's screenplay and they are both so talented and trust me to give good feedback.

Not to mention all of the remarkable support that we're receiving from the people we've talked to about the Cabaret.

I could go on, but I owe Beth a letter, and to make up for the amount of time it's taken me I'm going to try to make it extra good.

After a brief chat about whether we hate each other (the conclusion was no), Crystal and I have moved on to discussing ingrown hairs, boys, pimples, and our periods.

I love Crazy Internet People.

Dear Everyone,

I am posting this here because, well, I want everyone to see it. (Please note that I am not delusional and do not actually believe that everyone reads this, but I think most of the people I wish to address do.)

I do not wish to get involved in any sort of Us Vs. Them thing. It may appear that I already am, or possibly even that I started it, but I hope to clarify.

I never meant anyone any sort of harm or even offense by my wish that the other blog remain private. The fact is that yes, it is true I do not like Adam. This is for a personal reason, and has nothing to do with anything else he may or may not have done. Frankly, I don't care about that. I also cannot see any reason whatsoever that my dislike of him should mean anything to his friends - I'm sure many of them dislike certain of my friends, and I'm not bothered by that as long as I am not drawn into any conflicts.

I understand that things that were said by me and a few other people hurt the feelings of the people those things were said about. I hate that, because I don't want to hurt anyone. Well, maybe whoever keeps giving work to Drew Barrymore, but even then only a friendly clip on the jaw.

...Sorry, my brain went Elsewhere for a moment.

This feels like it felt when (some) people stopped trusting me simply because I was made a moderator at the WD. Yes, there is an "Exclusive Club" feeling to the whole thing. No, it does not change who I am. If people choose to stop liking me, that's fine. I won't like it, but it's their prerogative. But please, please, please: have a reason other than "I expressed my feelings and/or did something I wanted to do."

I hope that even some of that made sense. I will try to clarify anything if asked. --edit-- Please note that I have not banned anyone from the comments, so please ask away if you are so inclined.

Dear Uterus,

I have no grudge with you, specifically. Your mechanics, perhaps, but I put that down to a basic design flaw.

The problem I do have is the fact that the pain isn't contained. Is this another design flaw, or have you incited a riot?

Yours,
Your (aching) Body

Annika: Ouch.
Will: I'd buy you a steel uterus, but then we can't have kids.
Annika: Maybe we can find a steel uterus that's very loving.

We laughed for about ten minutes.

I am out of disposable heating pads. Well, not really out, but I've only got one. This is disasterous. Bother.

I want to have Wil Wheaton's babies.

Reasons Will should work in television (the first in a series)

We watched 7th Heaven tonight. The show is an absolute train wreck. It hasn't been funny since before the twins were born, and even then it wasn't very funny. But really, how could we miss Lucy's Wedding? I mean, surely this is the first time a cabbage patch doll has said "I do."

First, Will suggested that Ruthie should move over to Everwood after 7th Heaven ends and become Delia's arch-nemesis. That is funny.

When Mary called from the car, and they made a big deal of not showing who her passenger was (which, incidentally, I never found out), I guessed that it was Matt, and Will said, "Nah, it's Dawson." That is hilarious.

After the wedding part, when RevCam introduced the couple, I said, "No! It's 'I am pleased to present to you, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Whatever.'" Will's reaction? "It was the fifth take."

These are the things that just Happen to me.

Today, Will and I began a crash diet, combined with an all-new work-out regime. The diet is mostly for him, as I am only five pounds over my ideal weight, not to mention a vegetarian*. I'd die if I cut down too far on carbs and fat. But I digress.

This morning, I did 30 leg lifts and 10 crunches. It's not very impressive unless you know just how much physical activity is a normal part of my day. Actually, I was quite pleased, because even that small amount of exercise helped my back, which has been really bad lately. (There's a story about a car accident in it for any of you who are very bored.)

After eating a vaguely healthy lunch, which followed a few hours online trying to catch up on everything I ignored this weekend, I did a load of laundry. It was done around the time Will got home, and I noticed when I collected it that all but 2 of the washers were free. Taking it as A Sign, I had Will help me carry the rest of the laundry downstairs. While it was in the machine, I made dinner - salmon with ginger and brocolli with soy sauce. Man, was it good! (For those keeping track, a lot of this happened during 7th Heaven, and we were collecting the clean, dry laundry when Mary and her Mystery Passenger arrived. I'm still betting it was Matt.) After Everwood, we folded the laundry. By that, I mean I sat on the couch and Will put all of his work clothes on hangers.

It appears that I somehow managed to shrink some of our clothing. I washed and dried everything on the exact same cycles I always use (warm water wash, cold rinse, permanent press dry). I haven't tested anything, though Will tried on a pair of jeans and they were tighter than usual. Most of the clothes look fine, so I'm thinking perhaps the smaller of the two loads of blacks just got over-dried. Still, it would be so ironic if I shrunk our clothes on the very day that we started trying to lose weight/get into shape.

In other news...

Was today a bank holiday? I didn't get any mail, and while I can accept the possibility that no one loves me, I cannot believe that my creditors have stopped writing.

*not really, but close enough.

It occured to me today that I rarely wear jewelry, but own quite a bit.

I had just returned from the airport, and was bored senseless with the apartment all to myself.

So, I got out some of my jewelry boxes and hunted through. I am now wearing 3 rings. I found several of my favorite earings, but alas my right earlobe has closed up. How this happened after having it pierced for 14 years is anyone's guess. Oddly, I think the second set of holes is still open. I've only had those for around 10 years.

And...I'm outta here.

I finally have seen Ginger Snaps. Unfortunately, we watched it unaware that K cannot stand any sort of gore or blood, so even though it didn't strike me as being any more than remotely bloody, it upset her immensely. That is Not Good.

The movie, though, was pretty all right. I thought the pacing in the second half, and particularly the end, was far too slow. It kept doing the "This is going to be the end...no, wait! Foiled again...This is going to be the end...Nope!" thing, which got old. And the final part, in the house, took too long. But the performances were outstanding and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

I haven't got much more to say. My stomach's been upset off and on all week, so I am just staying awake until I feel well enough to go to bed.

I've added several people to The List. In the interest of not playing favorites or hurting feelings, I'm going to keep it to myself. Rest assured, though, that I'm feeling much better than I was two days ago.

It's raining, or was minutes ago. LA is so strange.

We had a fantastic weekend. As usual, it lasted about three days too few, but I can deal. We are working on a fabulous project. I'm so excited that I start thinking about it the minute I wake up, a time usually reserved for trying to remember where the coffee filters are kept (right next to the coffee pot). Anyone with a background in theater (of any sort), a lot of time on their hands, and a terribly creative nature (any two of the three will do) should contact me if they want to play with us.

I should look into whether show ideas can be copyrighted.

K is watching a cartoon movie (I can't see the TV, so I don't know which one), and I think I recognize David Spade's voice. That is just sad.

Can anyone recommend any good Burlesque on video? Tease-a-rama might not cut it. I mean to check Dita's site, but other than that it's google or nothing.

My house really needs to be cleaned. Badly. At least the bathroom sink is clean.

I hate people. I am making a list of the people I actually like. So far it has my boyfriend, Bruce Campbell, and matt on it. I'm reasonably certain that there are about a dozen other people who will make it to the list, so don't panic if you aren't one of those three. At least, don't panic yet.

It burns! It burns!

I chopped a hot pepper for my lunch. I washed my hands very thoroughly. And yet, after touching my nose just a teensy bit, it is on fire. No more spicy food for me. Maybe I will stop cooking altogether, in fact.

The good news is that after I put a little tea tree oil on my nose, the burn went from BLINDING PAIN to "ouch."

OUCH! Damn it. Now my tongue is burning. At least I've found the culprit.

Note to self: 1. Stop biting your nails. 2. Invest in a nail brush.

In other news...

My sister is the greatest person on earth. She bought me this. I am indescribably happy.

Testing to see if I can make spoiler tags in order to talk about tonight's Angel without alienating my international friends...

[begin spoiler]
Test. Test test. Testy test test test.
[end spoiler]

K and I used to watch The Journey of Natty Gann, like, all the time. Tonight we watched "I Only Have Eyes for You" and I made her guess who the guest star was that she ought to recognize. She didn't get it at first, but when I said, "Are you callin' my dad a commie?" she got it instantly. We're definitely sisters.

In other news, I think I need to come to terms with the concept that I am most likely allergic to milk. My tummy is so sore right now, after a huge mug of hot cocoa. That'll teach me to make it from scratch. Those packets have hardly any milk in them, I bet.

Bleh. Tomorrow I have to actually get up so that I can drive Will to work and have the car to take K to the beach. I use the term "beach" lightly - I'll most likely take her to the 3rd St. Promenade and we'll just wander down to the pier. She wants to see the ocean. Since I haven't seen it in almost a year, and I live in Los Angeles, I think it's only fair.

Also, Angel was watchable. Not a great episode, but it's actually got me speculating, which hasn't happened in ages. Not really since I decided months ago that Cordy was evil.

Yay! I changed K's flight to next Wednesday. It got very interesting when the woman from US Airways asked for the credit card, and I gave her the info, and she asked to talk to me, thinking I was K, and I (me) had to give permission for the card to be charged. Naturally, I handed the phone to K, mouthing, "You're me" and gesturing wildly.

I think I need to lie down...

Things to do in Koreatown when you're bored

Ever played a computer game? Of course you have.

Ever played a first person shooter? Of course you have.

Geek.

So, you know how you can switch between weapons? A lot of weapons? Check out Cooper.

Ahhh, accuracy. What will I think of next?

I am kicking ass and taking names!

And also, I am going to bed. Eventually.

K and I have until her return flight on Friday to finish the following:

• watch Sharpe's Rifles
  
• watch Pride & Prejudice
  
• see the Pacific ocean
  
• watch Lady Chatterley
  
• try to kill each other

So far we've done none of the above. I will keep you posted, of course.

If we somehow come into an extra chunk of time, we will also be watching Firefly and Angel.

On her way to bed, my sister hugged me and said, "Thanks for being my big sister." Because I am a total schmuck, I replied, "Well, they asked me if I wanted a little sister when it was too late to say 'no.'"

I must say, though, that I give fantastic advice. If only I'd take it myself.

With apologies to Katy and Simon...

I'm sorry, but am I the only person on earth who actually paid attention during Brotherhood of the Wolf? That was the worst movie ever. (I reserve the right to exaggerate slightly.) From start to finish, it was an exercise in stupid trick photography and a lesson in how not to tell a story. Yuck. Also, between it and The Musketeer, I have seen two too many movies with charming crossover fight choreography. Dear filmmakers, please use Chinese characters if you use Chinese martial arts in a period piece. And for the love of god, if there is mud everywhere, don't be so afraid to get your actors dirty. Thanks.

I'm being terribly unfocused in expressing my dislike for this movie. I'm sorry - it gets me really worked up that so many people liked it when it is such a piece of crap.

But I still love you guys anyway. Promise.

I'll teach them to try to charge us money. Assholes.

Small claims court, here we come!

Intelligence cannot be measured by knowledge. Rather, it should be measured by an individual's willingness and effort to expand his knowledge as he sees fit, and put his knowledge to use daily.

Whenever I begin to feel that I am not doing anything with my life, I read either The Day I Became an Autodidact or The Teenage Liberation Handbook, both of which are books about taking control of your own education. Both books begin with the assumption that education and schooling have nothing to do with one another, a concept I adore. After an exchange with Angie (who, by the way, I consider extremely intelligent, even if I don't agree with her on anything), I began to question whether I was living up to my own expectations. Because I'd given "The Bible" (Grace Llewelyn's Teenage Liberation Handbook) to Lauren last year, feeling that at 14 she needed it far more than I, I settled down with Kendall Hailey to read about her life as an autodidact once again.

As usual, I am inspired to greatness. In answer to that inspiration, I took a long bath and forgot about bills and paperwork for an hour. When I left the haven of the bathroom, I wondered briefly at myself for getting so worked up over a filthy bathroom sink yet refusing to clean it, and then started to think about my short film. It only exists on paper so far, but I've had my first semi-professional feedback and am still reeling three days later. (To the few of you who read this and have also read my script, I value your feedback immensely and have already made some changes based on your suggestions; all of the notes I received this week were about parts of the story that none of you touched on, so I feel that your comments were invaluable.) Three people read the script, which I had sent to work with Will under a false name. I assumed, correctly, that my readers were be more honest if they didn't know it was mine. Two people thought it was hilarious and urged Will to read it, giving notes on things that I definitely agree could be improved. My favorite feedback came from an intern at Will's office who hated the screenplay, feeling that the story was unclear. He is a film student, and of course believes that there is a proper way to tell a story and if it lacks certain elements it is flawed. My script lacks every one of those elements, and I could not be more delighted to be told that.

Gertrude Stein said once (and Kendall Hailey quoted) that she wrote for herself and strangers. This could only possibly be said to be true of me if those strangers are of the zombie-film-lover pursuasion already. This is, I think, slightly peculiar of me, since I don't even watch horror movies very often (unless they are made by Peter Jackson or star Bruce Campbell), but Will has said that it is my lack of knowledge of "the rules" that makes me a good genre writer, and he is the only critic whose opinion matters to me in the long run. He may not be a stranger, but he is certainly strange, in the genius way.

If anyone has a few thousand dollars and is harboring a secret desire to make short films, call me. I've got a great project for you to invest in, as soon as I finish some minor rewrites.

Shock and Awe come home?

I am suspicious of anything that is done in the name of National Security, since it seems that any action that has to be justified that way was purposely not done through the proper channels. There's a reason for those channels, and when the so-called leaders of our country decide to call all of the shots on their own, I get very nervous. I mean - things run poorly enough (IMO) when they are taken care of properly. There's a reason we keep yelling at all the other countries about being a democracy; I'd like to stay a democracy, even a parady of one, and avoid living in a police state.

I'm hardly a conspiracy theorist. I don't buy into most of the "the government is out to get me" mentality. I'm even fairly certain that racial profiling isn't all bad. But I am starting to freak out.

According to Friends of Meigs and the Aircraft Owners and Pilot's Association, Mayor Daley hired bulldozers to destroy the runway at Meigs Field (Chicago). His excuse is homeland security. 16 planes were stranded because of his actions.

In an effort to form an unbiased opinion, I ran a google search on the matter. From the Chicago Sun-Times I found this from today. After registering at the Chicago Tribune's site, I found some well-hidden stories in the archives. This seems to be most relevant, as it is Daley's side of the story. At a glance, my conclusion is that Daley is a moron.

My mother, a pilot, is having nightmares over this. Why is no one doing anything about this fascist?

Jenn has a 5-year plan now. I've got to get one of those.

She asked if we could call our (as-yet nonexistant) dessert business Bettie von Pie. Of course, I enthusiastically agreed. Perhaps too enthusiastically, now that I think about it.

K's watching "Amends." Oh, the continuity!

Meh.

Ha! I have totally gotten K hooked on Buffy.

*crosses fingers* I think Blogger is allowing publishing again. Hoorah!

Of course, I can't remember a single thing I was going to say. There is no excuse, as I could very easily have typed it up to be published later.

K's visit is going well, but I think she might be prettier than me. Bitch.

Will and I have decided where we want to get married, which is funny because we aren't engaged.

I'm feeling much more creative than I have in months, so I should get back to work.