Christy and Paul 2013

A year without internet, media and junkfood. Lord, help us.

Ladies and Gentlemen, My Name is Paul…


heyman barbwire

Christy had the selfish idea to pull me out of my lazy-hole so we could write something soon. I’ve been racking my brain trying to think of the “perfect” thing to write. I decided I wasn’t going to worry about how commercial an idea was, or if script readers would like it. I spend so much time trying to foolproof ideas so they reach the biggest possible audience that eventually I just get bored and write nothing at all. If I’m going to sit down in a chair for an extended amount of time, I’m going to write what I want. Well I’ve found my idea.

Can I be the laziest Paul Heyman Guy?

Can I be the laziest Paul Heyman Guy?

I’m a lifelong wrestling fan. When I realized that wrestling wasn’t real it didnt lose its magic, it just made me want to know how the trick was performed. (I’m quite pleased with that line) I genuinely respect the wrestlers for putting their bodies on the line and performing a new show every week. Clowns freak me out so its the closest thing to the Circus I’ll tolerate.


Seriously..Clowns are the worst

Last night I watched a new wrestling documentary about the career of Paul Heyman, “Ladies and Gentleman, My Name is Paul Heyman“. Paul Heyman was blessed with the gift of gab. He can make any wrestling storyline entertaining and he holds the audience in the palm of his pudgy hands. However, Paul Heyman is fat which disgusts me so I’ve never really cared about what he does off-camera. I assumed he was eating.

heyman bearer

He dressed as Paul Bearer weeks after the man died, just to piss off the audience.

Turns out, Paul Heyman’s life story was one of the most interesting documentaries I’ve ever seen. It was the history of modern-wrestling from the view point of a man who would lose a pillow fight, much less a wrestling match. Every person interviewed agreed on one thing: Paul is a genius. He understands what the audience wants and he gives it to them. Also Paul is an absolute hustler whos been involved with wrestling since he was 13 and scammed his way into a Madison Square Garden press-badge. He has been involved with just about every wrestling promotion on the planet and helped mold what wrestling is today as an on-air talent as well as behind the scenes.


Basically Paul’s story is Almost Famous meets Social Network but for once the lead is INCREDIBLY active. Theres no chance in hell that I can do his story justice, but I’m gonna try. This is a movie that would never be made due to several different wrestling promotions and million dollar empires being involved. Like I said earlier, I don’t care. This is what I want to write about. I want to spend the next few months focused on the history of wrestling and how to retell it because its something that I love. How could that be boring?

See? Vince doesnt think its boring

See? Vince doesnt think its boring

I apologize for how poorly written this article is. It’s the first time in months that I’ve stopped clicking on Facebook pictures and Taylor Swift videos long enough to do anything productive. Also it doesnt help when your friend is basically the Babe Ruth of blogging. Seriously this article is a Bazooka Joe gum wrapper compared to the opus Christy posted a few days ago.

I realize that I’m lazy and that will never change. I hope that putting my intentions on this blog will at least shame me enough to write a few pages. If I dont write something within a few days this idea will start to sound stupid to me like all the others. I hope to continually update my progress on the blog to keep me accountable. I saw how this movie should be in my head during the documentary and I think it could be EXTREME-ly interesting.

not gonna lie..never watched ECW..the people looked poor

not gonna lie..never watched ECW..the people looked poor

SIA’s “Elastic Heart” just Lolita in a Bird Cage

People who claim not to see pedo overtones in SIA’s “Elastic Heart” music video are fucking liars. Sorry.

*Lolita summary courtesy of Wikipedia, which makes it all a total lie, right?*

Humbert Humbert, a literary scholar in Europe, describes the premature death of his childhood sweetheart, Annabel Leigh. He suggests his unconsummated love for her caused his adult obsession with girl-children between the ages 9 and 14, or “nymphets”.

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Humbert fantasizes about meeting and eventually fondling the 12-year-old daughter of an impoverished family from whom he agreed to rent, buying an expensive bag of toys before meeting the McCoo family, only to find that their house burned down. A “Mrs. Haze” offers to accommodate him instead, and Humbert visits her residence reluctantly out of politeness, as “the only reason for [his] coming at all [to Ramsdale] had vanished.” He plans to decline the widowed Charlotte Haze’s offer until she at last shows him her garden and 12-year-old daughter, Dolores (born 1935[1]), known as “Lo”, “Lola”, or “Dolly”. He immediately becomes infatuated with her, citing her uncanny resemblance to Annabel,


and agrees to stay at Charlotte’s house only to be near her daughter, whom he privately nicknames “Lolita”.

While “Lolita” is away at summer camp, Charlotte, who has fallen in love with Humbert, tells him in a letter that he must either marry her or move out to avoid embarrassment. Humbert agrees to marry Charlotte in order to continue living near Lolita. Charlotte is oblivious to Humbert’s distaste for her, as well as his lust for Lolita, until she reads his diary. Learning of Humbert’s true feelings and intentions, Charlotte plans to flee and send Lolita to a reform school, threatening to expose Humbert as a “detestable, abominable, criminal fraud.” However, fate intervenes on Humbert’s behalf: as she runs across the street in a state of shock, Charlotte is struck and killed by a passing car.

Humbert retrieves Lolita from camp, pretending that Charlotte has been hospitalized. Rather than return to Charlotte’s home, Humbert takes Lolita to a hotel. Humbert plans to use one sleeping pill (out of a total of forty) per night to drug Lolita and perform sexual intercourse on her while she is unconscious.

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He tries molesting Lolita but finds that the sedative is too mild.

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Instead, she initiates sex the next morning, after explaining that she had slept with a boy at camp. Later, Humbert reveals to Lolita that Charlotte is dead, giving her no choice but to accept her stepfather into her life on his terms or face foster care.

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Lolita and Humbert drive around the country, moving from state to state and motel to motel. In order to keep Lolita from going to the police, Humbert tells her if he is arrested, she will become a ward of the state and lose all her clothes and belongings. He also bribes her with food, money, or permission to attend fun events for sexual favors, though he knows that she does not reciprocate his love and shares none of his interests. After a year touring North America, the two settle down in another New England town, where Lolita is enrolled in a girls’ school. Humbert becomes very possessive and strict, forbidding Lolita to take part in after-school activities or to associate with boys. Most of the townspeople see this as the action of a loving and concerned, though old-fashioned, parent.

Lolita begs to be allowed to take part in the school play, and Humbert reluctantly grants his permission in exchange for more sexual favors. The play is written by Mr. Clare Quilty. Quilty is said to have attended a rehearsal and been impressed by Lolita’s acting.

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 Just before opening night, Lolita and Humbert have a ferocious argument, and Lolita runs away while Humbert assures the neighbors everything is fine.

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He searches frantically until he finds her exiting a phone booth.

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She is in a bright, pleasant mood, saying that she tried to reach him at home and that a “great decision has been made.”

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They go to buy drinks and Lolita tells Humbert she doesn’t care about the play and wants to resume their travels.

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As Lolita and Humbert drive westward again, Humbert gets the feeling that their car is being tailed and becomes increasingly paranoid, suspecting that Lolita is conspiring with others in order to escape. She falls ill and must convalesce in a hospital while Humbert stays in a nearby motel, without Lolita for the first time in years. One night, Lolita disappears from the hospital, with the staff telling Humbert that her “uncle” checked her out. Humbert embarks upon a frantic search to find Lolita and her abductor, but eventually gives up. During this time, Humbert has a two-year relationship (ending in 1952) with a woman named Rita, whom he describes as a “kind, good sport” who “solemnly approve[s]” of his search for Lolita, while knowing none of the details.

Humbert receives a letter from Lolita, now 17, who tells him that she is married (making her name now Dolores Schiller), pregnant, and in desperate need of money. Humbert goes to see Lolita, giving her money in exchange for the name of the man who abducted her.

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She reveals the truth: Clare Quilty checked her out of the hospital after following them throughout their travels and tried to make her star in one of his pornographic films. When she refused, he threw her out. She worked odd jobs before meeting and marrying her husband, who knows nothing about her past. 

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Humbert asks Lolita to leave her husband, Dick, and live with him, which she refuses to do. He gives her a large sum of money anyway.

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As he leaves, she smiles and shouts goodbye in a “sweet, American” way.

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Humbert finds Quilty, whom he intends to kill, at his mansion. Before doing so, he first wants Quilty to understand why he must die, for he took advantage of Humbert, a sinner, and he took advantage of a disadvantage. Eventually, Humbert shoots him dead, and exits the house. Shortly afterward, he is arrested for driving on the wrong side of the road and swerving. The narrative closes with Humbert’s final words to Lolita in which he wishes her well, and reveals the novel in its metafiction to be the memoirs of his life, only to be published after he and Lolita have both died.

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The novel’s fictional “Foreword” states that Humbert Humbert dies of coronary thrombosis upon finishing his manuscript.

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It also states that “Mrs. Richard Schiller” (Lolita) died giving birth to a stillborn girl on Christmas Day, 1952, at the age of 17.

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I guess SIA and Shia LaBeouf are two peas in a pod when it comes to acknowledging source material. Not only has SIA failed to cite Lolita as an inspiration, she’s had the audacity to talk down to people who “cry pedophilia,” while simultaneously playing bleeding heart for victims of sexual abuse.

It’s interpretative dance. It’s art, allegedly. If people are all interpreting it as something horrible, maybe it’s horrible. Maybe if I give 100 people the finger, and 85 people find it offensive, it’s offensive. Artists who try to claim artistic and intellectual immunity from being criticized for their work are just as interested in preventing freedom of speech as people who are demanding such works never be created. While I hope that the SIA videos are not indicative of some sort of societal easement into the territory of child exploitation, I know that it ultimately falls on the shoulders of the people receiving that turgid finger in the face. Can we be convinced that we’re all idiots? That we’re all delusional? That we’re all worrying over nothing? I hope not.


“tasteful artistic photographs of beautiful nude bodies.”

Paul’s 27th Name Day Game of Thrones Surprise Party… PICTURE AVALANCHE AHEAD!

I don’t really care for Game of Thrones. I don’t like dramas, I don’t like paying attention, and I don’t like watching dirty people. So, when Paul selfishly suggested a Game of Thrones birthday party, I told him to shove it up his butt.

Secretly, though, I started planning. I scoured the Internet for party ideas, and although I had no idea what the significance of a Ned Stark cake pop was, I knew it looked cool, so it was on the list. Dragon eggs, check. The boar that killed King Robert, check (found a place nearby that sold wild boar! I love LA.)

Meanwhile, I threw out various party ideas to Paul, lingering on them long enough to avoid suspicion, but briefly enough to assure him that whatever we did would be half-assed. I worked piecemeal on the decorations and food for a couple weeks beforehand, and while I worked, I listened to Game of Thrones in the background to try to get some context for what I was doing.

About a week before the party, I told Paul to buy a costume. I told him the theme would be the modern Golden Age of Television, and he would be someone from Game of Thrones; I would be Amy Farrah Fowler; and Trey would be someone from The Walking Dead (another show I don’t watch bc of all the dirty people).

Because Paul works nights, he comes down by bus and gets here at about 6 o’clock Saturday morning. Not wanting to arouse suspicion, I hid everything Friday night, and put a note on the refrigerator door: DO NOT OPEN! SOUFFLE INSIDE!

Later, I locked him in the cat’s crapping room for roughly an hour, under the guise of getting dinner ready.

I don’t think I’ve ever so successfully misled a person before. The look on his face, when he realized how much he’d been lied to, well, that’s the real magic… That’s what makes it all worth it. Lie to your kids, folks. -_^ They deserve it.

I informed Paul that I had seen Game of Thrones, and that I had only pretended to need an hour-long explanation of the show to better throw him off the scent. He laughed, and agreed that he had enjoyed explaining, in great detail, at my behest, who everyone was and how they were related or were not related. Okay, now I’m just lying to the poor fools who’re reading this dreck.

Anywho, Paul went all out for his Brienne of Tarth costume, so I didn’t have to bludgeon him to death with a candle. Oh, yeah, and I’m G.O.T.olerant, now.

On to the pictures!

Bread & Dragon Tea Eggs

Bread & Dragon Tea Eggs




Dothraki Stallion Heart:







Paul’s unborn child will grow big and strong.



Eat those puppies, Stan…



Rhaegal’s Egg:



Couldn’t have planned it if I tried. :]


F*ck paying $14 for one stupid dragon no one’s ever heard of! These squirt water and were $10!

Stupidly long link: Not classy, Walmart. Not classy.


Ned Stark Cake Pops:

IMG_4526IMG_4512 IMG_4525 IMG_4524 IMG_4523

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Ladybugs… They just wanna win.

Randomly found this blank banner at Target for $5!

 Perfect number of blanks for a Winter is Coming banner! White paint and three hours of your life not included.
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Donut Cop: Part One


Paul’s Surprise Party: The Trailer

Ending on a High Note: A Year in Retrospect.

Well, it’s that time of year again. You know, the end of it. It’s a time to conjure up a new reason to live after all the seasonal S.A.D.ness and the waking up every day after the sun’s gone down. A time to say goodbye to the blog and reflect on the results of our year-long experiment. A time to get on with it already.

But before we do that, I would like to thank everyONE in our intimate blogging community for commenting and keeping up with the Klardashienz. We’ll miss you someday.

Oh, and if you like photography, VISIT THIS PAGE!!! ==>

Photos courtesy of (with no permission) Brent's iPhone and Japan!

Photos courtesy of (with no permission) Brent’s iPhone and Japan!

Awesome and FREQUENTLY updated blog from Japan!

Awesome and FREQUENTLY updated blog from Japan!

Ahem, on with the show…


  • No internet, media watching, texting or video games.
  • ~55 WordPress posts!
  • Enter short screenwriting thingy.
  • Create
  • Cook A LOT.
  • Blow up an eggplant in the oven.
  • Take more pictures of myself than my parents have looked at me.
  • We’re sure this will be the most productive year ever!
Eggsplat. No, eggsplosion.

Eggsplat. No, eggsplosion.


  • I win a Scriptshadow shorts week spot!
  • Start work on Dog Tags.
  • I meet the Scripstshadow guy in person. He encourages me to send him the finished script.
  • We feel confident that this screenwriting thing is gonna happen, yeah!


  • Finish first draft of script.
  • Get too drunk and eat too much KFC.
  • Go to see the heads of screenplay contests lie their asses off.
Don't do it, people!

Don’t do it, people!

Bigass BUCK'T of chicken.

Bigass BUCK’T of chicken.


  • Finish up Dog Tags.
  • Send it to Scriptshadow guy who never returns my e-mail.
  • Start going to Starbucks while my husband’s at work.
  • Meet friendly local screenwriter who likes my work.
  • Experiment with fasting.


  • Get “encouraged to move” by landlords who want to sell.
  • Publish one post about apartment hunting.
  • Apartment hunt.
  • Decide that extended fasting is bull after seeing countless pictures of dull-haired anorexics with the caption: “I’m not starving, I’m feasting on fat!”
  • Win top prize at Pinup Girl Boutique drawing: fancy-shmancy skincare products, $100 worth of Masuimi Max’s makeup and my makeup done by Micheline Pitt.
So much makeup...

So much makeup…



  • Post one catch-all post.
  • Start work on gold diggers script.
  • Work on friend’s fashion magazine.
The cover on the left is my masterpiece!

The cover on the left is my masterpiece!


  • Another one-post month.
  • Start to get into quantum physics and the meaning of existence.
  • Start to realize that we do what we want, and that I must not “want” to be a screenwriter.


  • Call my parents from Pasadena “just because” for the first time.
  • Stab myself in hand with paring knife. It leaves a scar.
  • Start my search for my birth parents.
  • My dad falls and breaks his leg. He stays in the hospital for over two weeks, but I never call.
  • My dad dies in the hospital.
Me and my dad. I'm the one in the pink. Check out that crazy 80's light fixture!

Me and my dad. I’m the confused one in the pink. Check out that crazy 80’s light fixture!


Paul's Fanciest Birfday Present

Paul’s Fanciest Birfday Present


  • Sign up for Nanowrimo.
  • Throw Paul’s Christmas Birthday.
  • Give up on Nanowrimo.
  • Get new Nike Fuelband.
  • Go Fuelband crazy.
  • Go home for Thanksgiving.
  • Help mom get her affairs in order.
  • Get asked by Food Network for rights to our eggplant explosion pictures.


  • Paul posts a lot while we’re gone.
  • Return to LA with renewed sense of agency.
  • Paul visits Alabama.
  • After years of thinking, finally figure out the meaning of existence.
  • Feel dissatisfied with the answer and stupid for thinking it would be satisfying.
  • Get depressed.
  • Realize slowly and painfully and joyfully that I’m “meant” for academia.
  • Feel distant from Paul when he gets back, because we’ve lost our shared dream of screenwriting and are starting to diverge paths, or because we worship different gods, or because we haven’t been separated for this long in years. Things just feel different.
  • Start to learn math so I can get into a Neural Networks and Computing PhD program with a BS in stupid Human Sexuality.
  • Bet Paul $50 he can’t go to Sunday morning church eight weeks in a row.


  • Celebrate New Year’s with Trey and Paul and Chodie Foster, uncertain where we’ll be this time next year, but grateful for the time we have left like this.
Shakes come & go... but Friends are Furrr-ever! Chuck E. Cheese's - 8/17/09

Shakes come & go…
but Friends are Furrr-ever!
Chuck E. Cheese’s – 8/17/09

Good night, dear reader, and good luck.


Papusa Prowl ’13 UPDATE: Bronze Eagle Has Landed


I’ll be posting videos from the trip later because wordpress hates me and wont let me upload them from my phone unless I pay cash money. I refuse. 

This was awesome.

Papusa Prowl Foreva!


Papusa Prowl ’13: Fears

What happens if the sweet old lady who runs this outfit closes down during the winter? What if she closed early on account of rain? What if her sodas aren’t ice cold?

I’m blocks away and fears are flooding my thoughts. Lets cross our Papusa loving fingers that this journey has a happy ending.

Bronze Eagle out.

Papusa Prowl ’13 sights and sounds

The sight is below. The sound is me being totes creeped out. Getting oh so close to papusas.



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