As It’s Remembered is ready!

My team of amazing friends and I have completed our first feature film that we made with virtually no money and even less time. It would mean the world to me if you LIKED us on Facebook. A social media presence can only help us moving forward with the distribution and festival selection processes. Plus, our Facebook page has cool things on it like production stills, screening announcements, and the first theatrical trailer. Yes, the trailer. It’s legit. It’s amazing. It’s exciting and we cannot wait to start taking this little feature that could to festivals.

I am so proud of this film, in fact, that I almost forgive myself for once thinking that an essay about watching a kid fall into the water fountain at Georgia Square Mall would be good enough to get me into Northwestern University.

We have come a long way, friend. A long way, indeed.

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I wrote this last Friday.

Hi, everyone! It’s formal wear day at the office du jour. That’s right! The people hired to keep the animators happy and healthy by feeding them fun snacks and organizing team building activities have mandated that everyone wear their prommiest, ballerist, fanciest get-ups to the office. I don’t really own anything too nice, but I do have this dress I got on sale at one of those stores where you can buy Slipknot memorabilia and ladies purses in the shape of clocks. So here I am!


Nothing like a stronghouse of Los Angeles’s finest animators wearing their Sunday best and looking like the cast of (Nerdy) Mad Men.

Now if only there were a tiny suit and whiskey tumbler for little dude here:


He’s my favorite employee because his tongue is literally too large to fit inside his head. I also appreciate workplace dogs as they provide a sense of calm and stability in a world that I find stressful and confusing.

Speaking of confusing, can someone explain why my phone thinks that I run one of those Open-All-Year Christmas stores? How did this even happen?


It did this last year when my iPhone Gmail app thought my name was “I HATE YOU JAS YOU BITCH YOU CAN GO AND DIE” but I forgot how I fixed it. Anyone got any pointers?


I’m part of an online group for women in comedy. Someone recently posted about dealing with feelings of shame that conflicted with her desire to post pictures of herself on her Instagram. Selfies are a guaranteed way to get likes and build a following, especially if you’re a woman, but she couldn’t help but feel like she was pandering by doing do. I wrote this response and I would like to share it here:

Hey. Hi. I have a lot of feelings regarding this societal attitude toward women posting self-featuring content online. If hear one more man talk about a vain bitch or see one more asshole post hateful trash about how selfies are linked to psychopathy and excessive narcissism as a means to shame ALL content creators, but PARTICULARLY women, into thinking that what they are doing is shameful and wrong, I will go off on them without hesitation.

This is fucking bullshit. Followings are everything in our industry. In addition to the sad fact that we are shifting to a new age where our worth to a brand is based on social media metrics, you can only help yourself by building a following.

Hell, building up a significant following is a great move even if you aren’t in the industry. Case in point: I once met a woman who was able to pay off a significant chunk of student debt because those selfies (you know, the pictures that apparently mean she could be a psychopath) got her a following large enough to attract sponsors – who then paid her some sick coin to feature their products in her pictures. She’s not an actress. She’s not vain. She’s not crazy. She’s a normal person and she’s lovely and has great taste and I LOVE that she has such a large following.

Who. The. Fuck. Cares if a woman is posting pictures of herself on Instagram? If it bothers you that much then quit browsing for cute girls on Instagram just so you can have something to bitch about. Quit shaming girls for being confident online.

Pictures of your face are guaranteed to get more likes and follows than pictures that do not have your face.

But “society is breeding vanity and narcissism!”

Yeah? You think it’s just about vanity and narcissism?

My response to this entire attitude is simple: “Have you ever been to an audition or even a regular job interview and had someone tell you, “Oh, you are great/adorable/intelligent/perfect/your videos are hilarious, but you just don’t have an online following that matches up with our client’s expectations.”

Oh, you haven’t? KINDLY SHUT THE FUCK UP, THEN.”

I’d be happy to know what your thoughts on the matter are.


This is why you read contracts.

I always get a little braver those days before Red Fury. I recently launched a full blown Tweet attack on Salesforce/Dreamforce due to the fact that my face has been plastered all over their advertisements for the past six months and graces things including but not limited to: busses, billboards, and entire walls of convention centers.

I had checked my Dreamforce paperwork and saw no clause anywhere that would give them the right to use my face to brand their product in perpetuity.

My tweets started to get retweeted – first by friends. But then by influencers. People with huge Twitter followings, many of whom were at Dreamforce and looking at my face.

Within a day, someone from the staffing company that I originally worked for called me and said, in so many words: “Cut it out.”

Apparently, in the generic staffing paperwork, there is a clause that says their clients can do whatever they want if they take your picture. I suppose whoever drew up that paperwork never imagined that their workers would be used in fully blown, regional campaigns. I plan to double check the paperwork.

I took down about 75% of my tweets and left the less aggressive ones be. Because, dammit, it’s still messed up that this billion dollar company won’t even offer to pay the agency that hired me or myself.

So, in light of all this, I urge all of you considering a good CRM platform to not choose Salesforce. Rather, show alternatives Base CRM or Highrise some love.


It’s my first lifestyle shoot!

For my upcoming interview with Holl & Lane, I did a fun photo shoot with my friend and fantastic photographer, Alex Cameron. It was my first lifestyle shoot and I’m so happy that we were able to tell such a great story through the power of pictures.


Sometimes I promote products that have clear, established rivals. The greats among the Battle of the Brands. The ones that command the most extreme brand loyalty. The ones like…

Samsung VS. Apple.
East Coast VS West Coast.
Sports Team VS Any Other Sports Team.

dogcat15One of the many lovely things you’ll see when you Google “Cat VS Dog Rivalry.”

One hundred percent of the time and without fail , a young white man with a frat-tasticular disposition walks by and yells out the name of the competitor.

For example, I might be promoting Samsung. A white dude runs by and yells out, “APPLE IS BETTER!” without stopping.

Yes, they are always on the younger side. Yes, they are almost always white. Black guys rarely do this. Asian guys rarely do this. Hispanic guys rarely do this. I’ve never promoted anything in Hawaii, but I bet that guys who check “Pacific Islander” on their standardized tests rarely do this. Young, obnoxious, privileged white guys do this. I think that the fact that young, obnoxious white dudes make a habit out of something so obnoxious should be added to the list of stuff that proves white privilege exists. Why the hell is it always some dumb ass white dude screaming out, “SPOTIFY!” when I’m busting my ass promoting another music streaming platform?

I’ve spent too much time thinking about the psychology behind their actions. Do they think they are being funny? Do they simply need to yell out some contrarian dog shit make them feel better about their place in a world that hates them? Or is it really as simple as a body with a head on it that plays following thoughts on loop:
“Chug beer Crush it Is it really rape if she’s drunk Jerk off in the bathroom because you may not get another chance today WHO CARES THE STUFF I LIKE IS THE BEST STUFF AND I GET TO ATTEND AND ENJOY A FESTIVAL THAT YOU ARE STUCK HAVING TO WORK FOR, FUCK YOU AND THE STUFF YOU LIKE.”

These guys are always the worst. One actually looped back around with a woman in tow to ask me about the service I was promoting. Here is further proof of how much these guys suck.

“Tell me about what you’re promoting.”
I paused. To be honest, I wasn’t supposed to be promoting anything this past weekend. I was supposed to be running the photo booth. Unfortunately, the booth never made it to Philadelphia. FedEx apparently felt that a Priority Overnight shipment meant, Eh, it’s OK if it gets there in a few days. While the photography company figured out a solution from their home base, I went to the festival to offer my services as a brand ambassador. I figured my assistance might help smooth things over, so they quickly thrust me into the world of streaming music sales. That’s when Douchebag O’Toolface came back to listen to the pitch.
“So this is a music streaming service comparable to Spotify or Apple Music. The main differences being: the quality of the music is higher, the artists receive a more generous cut of streaming profits, and …”
Crap. What else?
“And… I know there’s another good reason to download it.”
“You know, I’m a salesman, too,” the guy said, “and you’re the same type of salesman as me. Like, the same exact type. Can I give you a tip, though?”
“Please don’t,” I was about to say, but he steamrolled me.
“Never, ever, ever pause and say that you forgot one of the reasons a consumer should buy. Just don’t do it. It looks bad.”
I choked back a little vomit. Then I replied,
“… OK. A couple of things: you are the type of person I wouldn’t want to be along in a room with. Also: get the hell out of here.”
I’m just kidding. I didn’t say it. But I wanted to.

Here are a few things to keep in mind if you are one of those guys:

1. Ew. Get away from me before I catch it.
2. If I were in charge of wiping the Earth clean of people who don’t need to be here, you would be in the first wave of “Definitely nots” after I had eliminated the more obvious offenders like ISIS, anyone who believes in enforcing a caste system, V. Roosh, and some of (but let’s be real: probably all of) the Duggars.



Here’s proof you can make your movie.

Just now, in Chicago, the two people sitting behind me were talking about how the universe must be plotting against them because they couldn’t get anyone interested in their movie. Alvin and the Chipmunks 4 can get made, but not their movie. Bad logic, since I’m assuming their indie endeavor isn’t based off of a preexisting franchise, but whatever. Also, Chicago may not be the best place to get your film off the ground, but that is neither here nor there.

Not that anyone asked for my opinion, but here is what I have to say. A film about a young woman who shaved her butt hole so hard that she had to go the hospital and fall in love with her male nurse and confront her hyper troubled mother got made and did well. Wetlands made it into Sundance. And despite some gross butt stuff, it was a pretty great movie.

Imagine pitching that film: “It’s a (female led) film where a (female) character  CUTS OPEN THEIR BUTT HOLE and goes to the ER and is forced to reconcile their personal demons with their troubled family as they puts the moves on their cute male nurse.”

That pitch could only turn into something terrible or wonderful.

If someone can get that movie off the ground and make it something wonderful, then trust me. There’s a way for your movie, too.




I don’t know what I can do.

Overlook the fact that this video has an obvious clickbait title and watch it.

If you saw the photos of the child who washed up on the shore of Turkey and felt your heart sink inside your chest, what happened afterward? You saw the image. You processed it. You felt a reaction. How long did it take these feelings to untwist from a massive knot in your stomach? Did they dissipate once you had registered what had happened? Did they linger? Did they go anywhere at all?

Or did you see the image and simply think, “Huh. Terrible.”

I have problems with focusing my anger, rage, and sadness. I lose sleep over things happening in the world and I have no idea how to channel those feelings. So I focus on issues close to home. Then I lose sleep over the guilt I feel for directing my energy toward “first world problems.”

Bigots and marriage licenses? Online adultery? Misogyny from behind a keyboard? A culture that makes stupid people famous? I do not want to belittle current problems in the United States. However, I cannot help but feel like what Americans experience, as a whole, is child’s play compared to what is happening in Syria right now. North Korea. India. Nigeria, Chad, and the Cameroon. I think there’s the difference between the incidents of injustice that people experience here in America versus the genocide and large scale terror that plagues other countries. Where in America do we have people lined up in the street and shot, execution style, for their religious beliefs or lack thereof? Where in America can a judge order that someone’s mother and sisters and daughters be gang raped or stoned as punishment for a social “crime” they or a family member committed?

I bet you know that Kim Davis went to jail. But do you have any idea whether or not those girls who were kidnapped, raped, and sold off by Boko Haram were EVER recovered? The answer is no. No, they were not.

The shootings in America make me ill. The police brutality makes me ill. Bigots make me ill. Misogyny makes me ill. The idiocy makes me ill. Yet, despite all of these things that make me ill, Americans are still more poised to do something regarding our issues than those in these conflicted, archaic, and war town parts of the world. To some extent, we as Americans can work toward change. We have technological, geographical, and societal advantages that other countries do not. What’s fucked up about America is that, with these advantages, you would think that corporate greed and everything that it affects – debt, education, and the medical industry, right off the top of my head – wouldn’t be such issues, but they are. The difference is that we get to say something about it. We can entertain the illusion of change without fear that an opposition will literally destroy us.

We aren’t fucked; we have a voice.
They are fucked. They don’t have an option.

I feel ridiculous because I take my anger at the things I have no control over, the things that happen farthest away from me and make me the most upset, and re-focus that anger on issues more tangible to me and my American experience. I obsess over misogynistic injustices. I act like the worst thing in the world has just happened because some drug addled man calls me a cunt and kicks my car. I post links about feminism and how behind we are in the times regarding women and our role in entertainment. I focus on these things, I think, because in some way I feel closer to them and that me bitching about them will make more of a difference somewhere.

The reality is I’m doing nothing.

I’m doing nothing and I want to do everything for everywhere. The ultimate powerlessness to do anything makes that knot in my chest a constant feeling.

We have no idea how truly sheltered we are. No idea.

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I donated to Save the Children. As an individual, I may be powerless to physically go and make a difference, but I can help provide assistance to those who can. For a list of organizations that have feet on the ground in areas that need help, please look here.


Chattanooga, Tennessee!

Whenever I take jobs back in the southeast I am reminded of how much I actually miss it. When I drove to LA a few years ago, I felt all too happy to leave it behind. Now all I can think is, “When can I book something that shoots back home?”

Occasionally, I do get to travel and do work related things in the Southeast. I went to Chattanooga not too long ago – and it was small city heaven.


Chattanooga is a rare mix of burgeoning hipster culture mixed with a backyard country sensibility. It was largely unaffected by the recession and smart urban planning has turned (and continues to turn) the city proper into a thriving mini-tropolis. It’s sandwiched between the Chattanooga River and Lookout Mountain – home to the gorgeous Ruby Falls cave. The town has a very calm, relaxed pace.

I miss so many things about the south. I miss the actual, legitimately fresh air. I miss trees and woods. I miss the humidity that keeps your skin from feeling like it could crack open at any second. I miss the friendliness and the genuine way people are with one another. And I miss the food – oh my god, the food. I hadn’t eaten grits in over two years, so you can bet your ass I ate a huge bowl of them.

IMG_5358The Grits at Mean Mug. So delicious.


IMG_5354The menu board at Mean Mug.

Check out this biscuit that I got at a little place called Milk & Honey: IMG_5349

Check out me trying to pretend that I know how to take photographs:


This place utilized an entire wall for the menu:





I once screamed at Dustin for not involving me in a project when it seemed to gain momentum. I had donated my likeness, my voice, and my notes to all of the pitching and fundraising materials for character he had created and I wanted to be a part of it when everything began to come together. It did begin to come together – around a completely different actress. I was livid. I think I broke a plate.

That project fell apart, as most projects mucking about the studio system do. Over a year later, he is still trying so hard to get that particular script off the ground and I feel so, completely ashamed of the selfishness I harbored before. That film could have been a game changer for him. It could have launched a career. Would I wish the demise of his film because of my non-involvement? God. Pardon my French, but I was such a cunt. I am amazed we stayed friends, much less started to date a year or so later.

That whole situation helped me put things into perspective. Namely, how no one owes anyone anything.

A couple of people have sent me random messages asking me why I’m not involved with Siren, the feature length version of the short that I did in V/H/S. I’m not in it because no one approached me about it – and that is totally fine. Just because I was in the short didn’t mean there was an obligation to include me in the feature. I mean, good lord; I was asleep for most of the original, anyway. I’m just happy that some of people I had a blast with on short get to work on what is sure to be a killer feature. (No pun intended.)

“Yeah, but aren’t you mad?”

This is a recurring complaint from actors. They know people, but why aren’t people doing doing doing for them? Why didn’t so and so send out their package? Why didn’t so and so introduce them to that guy?! Why didn’t that working actor friend of yours offer to recommend you to their agent?!

Look, I don’t fucking know. And I’m done trying to figure out why. Just because you have a friend who is a manager, an agent, or who is simply well connected doesn’t mean they owe you a damn thing. No, they don’t owe you a meeting. No, they don’t owe you a part in their movie. They don’t owe you hello. (Though hello is nice. I have been known to show disproportional excitement when someone tells me hello.)

How about this: why don’t we stop projecting our lack of success on the people who COULD HAVE done this or SHOULD HAVE done that for us? Because here’s the thing: they either did or did not – and there is no SHOULD have. Because no one owes us shit. 

Why don’t we focus on building ourselves up to a point where we no longer feel the need to rely on others for our own progress? What if we shifted the focus from what people are doing without us and to what we could be doing for ourselves and living happier, less resentful lives?

If someone wants to lend a hand or work with you, then wonderful. But don’t equate friendships to connections. Maybe I’m the dumb one, but I feel so tacky soliciting people for hook-ups. I can’t even talk to a promoter for a club without feeling like I’m taking advantage of someone. I have encountered a few people who have very graciously offered to facilitate an introduction for me, or set up a meeting. I am so, incredibly grateful.

But the minute you start to feel like the universe owes you some kind of success, be in the form of connections, relationships, parts, meetings, whatever – you are paving the way for a lifetime of disappointment.

Life is for living and loving. And it’s too hard to do that when you’re too busy being a Pissy Patty.


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