The Things You Keep

The things you keep after a break up are not physical. They’re not the teddy bear he gave you when he went to that amusement park with his friends. They’re not the earrings you got for your 4th anniversary or the mix CD you that you tried really hard to not read into.

These are not the things that you keep. The things that you keep are a love for Bob Dylan. You keep that feeling you get when you hear the song he sang in your ear before you fell asleep. You’ll find yourself picking up a book of Bukowski poems in a bookstore and never wanting to let them go. You keep the idea that you matter. You keep the part of you that screams “I am worthy.”

The things you lose after a break up are not physical. You lose things like the desire to watch Vietnam-era war movies. Platoon will come on the television and you’ll lose the need to watch it for the eighth time. You lose the immediate impulse to put yourself second. You lose that feeling you got after the fight that was almost the end. You lose the idea that you weren’t worthy or good enough to keep it going. You lose that person you were with him; a girl you would not recognize.

The thing you keep after a breakup is not physical. The thing you keep after a breakup is yourself.


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On Being a Little Person

Buckle in.

To begin, let me say the following opinions are mine and mine alone. I am not trying to convert anyone to my way of thinking, nor am I using this post to condone anyone’s lifestyle or choices. I am also going to refrain from calling out individual people by name. It’s tacky, unnecessary and as the great Destiny’s Child put it, “You know I’m not gonna diss you on the internet…cause my momma taught me better than that.”

I recently have come under a lot of heat for a comment I made on a friend’s Facebook status about Miley Cyrus’ SNL appearance. Essentially, my LP friend said that little people actors should take note of how our other little person friend played his guitar for her performance, rather than dance behind her in say…a plant or food costume. A lot of the LP community commented on the status and a debate began on LP performers and the types of “gigs” we are hired to perform for. Long story short (pun absolutely intended), I decided to comment with the following:

So I apologize in advance if this stirs the pot more but I was reading the comments and really wanted to weigh in. [Person who originally posted], you basically said everything I’ve been wanting to say for a long time but have been too chicken shit to say because I didn’t want to offend anyone.
Most of the time, getting a job purely because you’re a little person (in my opinion) is not a good thing. It is further fulfilling society’s idea that we are something to laugh at; that our value is simply to shock. We can all agree that right now all Miley Cyrus wants to do is make society’s jaw drop. So what’s more “weird” or “freaky” than having little people parading around in your show?
As someone who is trying to make it as a serious actress in this industry, not just trying to “be famous” or make money, there is nothing more frustrating than this stigma. The longer little people agree to be used as shock value, the longer it is going to take for us to be taken seriously.
I was a bear in Miley Cyrus’ VMA performance and it was my first time doing anything like that…anything where I was being used because of my height, not because of my talent. And I will be the first one to tell you that standing on that stage, in that costume was one of the most degrading things I felt like I could ever do. I realize not everyone shares my opinion and I might just be young and naive, but I feel like the acceptance of this kind of treatment has got to stop.

I have been attempting to be a professional actress for the past 3 years and my mom will probably tell you I have been attempting to be a professional actress my entire life. I cannot remember a time in my life when I did not want to be on a stage or in front of a camera. I have been performing in plays and musicals since I could speak. I attended a small Liberal Arts school in Michigan where I earned a degree in Theatre. I was in plays and musicals while in school and I earned none of my roles by simply being small and not one show I was in even made mention of it. I have lived in Los Angeles for almost two years and let me be one of the millions to tell you…it is not easy. Not only am I attempting to break into an impossible industry, but I am trying to do it with what some may consider a huge disadvantage. For decades, little people have not been taken seriously and we still continue to not be. As an actress, I am presented with maybe 2% of the “real” auditions that my average height actress friends are presented with.

However, I have been presented with many other opportunities. I was in Miley Cyrus’ 2013 VMA performance as one of the background bears. I had never done anything in a costume with a mask like that before. I mean, I dressed up as a Pink Power Ranger when I was in Kindergarten and I had a mask on but, I digress… I had never been in a performance where I was purely meant to be gawked or laughed at. I will never forget that performance because it is what forced me to draw my personal line in the sand. After our first dress rehearsal in the costumes with the crew, publicists, performers etc watching us, I walked out of the Barclay Center shaking and crying. Thankfully, my best friends, Kelly and Kerri, happened to be NYC to visit me. They were waiting for me and I walked up to them and broke down. I love being the center of attention, but that was something different. I was being stared and laughed at for all of the wrong reasons. I was being looked at as a prop…as something less than human.

Now, I have never been terribly bullied for being little person. I was extremely fortunate to grow up with a wonderful family and amazing friends. I view these people as a my personal shield. If anyone ever laughed at me on the playground as a child, I wasn’t even given a chance to defend myself because my friends or my cousin, Britt, would step forward and serve these people back some playground realness (mostly they would call them stupid or tell them to shut up…realness). In college, an online message board was started about me. People anonymously wrote in and said I looked “bug-eyed” and that I “creeped” them out and that they “felt sorry for my family that I even existed and I should just go die”. It wasn’t great. I felt the lowest I thought I could feel, but the minute I set foot outside my dorm room, I had sorority sisters, friends, and professors expressing their disgust at the board and it was eventually taken down. More recently, I was at a bar with my friends, Chris, Mark and James, and a man made some comment about my height and went to touch my hair. Before I even knew what was happening or what was said, the boys had stepped between the man and I, and had physically shielded him from even coming near me. My friends are amazing and I bring these examples up to show that, I have been fortunate to know that for every asshole out there calling me a “bug-eyed midget” I have a lot of other people who love me and treat me with respect.

So, while all of those other situations weren’t fun, they never made me feel less than human. When I did the VMAs, I did feel like that. For the first time I felt truly ashamed of being a little person. We were being used simply because we were little. It felt like society still saw us as a joke, despite the fact there is literally nothing different about me other than the fact I am small. You would never make someone with Down Syndrome to come to your party as an “angry retard”. (I have been asked to go to a party as an “angry elf”). So when they asked me to audition for Miley’s tour, I was incredibly hesitant. The money was great and I would have gotten a free trip to Las Vegas. My computer had recently broken and my car needed (and still needs) multiple repairs. I could have fixed a lot of that with the Miley money. So, I sent in my audition tape. I found out I was chosen and was going to have to begin rehearsals the next day. In this whole process, I was never quite told what I would be dancing to or as with Miley. I began to get a horrible gut feeling. All of the VMA feelings came rushing back. I called my mom, Kelly, and Kerri and we all debated for hours about the situation. Eventually they did that annoying thing everyone does where they said “Ultimately, it is your decision.” I wondered if I could do it again…if it my computer and car were worth it. If it was worth that one day, when my future (possibly little person) child YouTubed Miley Cyrus and found me dancing onstage in a costume like that and said something like “But Mom, you don’t let me do things like that” and I had to explain that Momma did it to pay the bills. I wondered if it was worth feeling less than human again.

And frankly, it wasn’t.

I also had a job and dog here in LA that I didn’t want to leave. Too many negative thoughts and considerations went into it. I decided not to join in on the Miley party.

I am not “hating on” the people who are currently doing this, or the little people who decide to do performances in a similar vein. That’s what is so lovely about our world. You are free to do whatever the hell you want to do. “Oh hey, Jesse Pinkman! You’re going to make and sell meth? Cool! I don’t want to do meth, nor do I want to sell it. I don’t think you should do it because I think you’re better than that, but hey! Who am I to tell you what to do?!”

I am simply explaining why I do not do this kind of performance or behavior. If the little person community continues to do performances like this, it is my belief that we will continue to only receive maybe 2% of the auditions and opportunities of our average sized friends. Society will think we’re OK with being laughed at because we still continue to do things that allow them to laugh at us or look at us as props.

So, there it is. Just one girl’s opinion. Let’s all go to Panda Express and get along now, eh?

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How The Boy Who Lived Brought Me Back to Life

I have been doing a lot of thinking about Harry Potter recently. And by “recently”, I mean I’ve been in a permanent state of thinking about Harry Potter since 1998. I can remember the exact moment that my mom gave me Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. My elementary school had just had a book fair and I was sitting in the back-seat of our car sorting through my treasures when this book with a boy on the cover fell out of my bag…

Can I just get real for a moment? Book fairs were the absolute shit. A company like Scholastic or something, I don’t know the specifics, comes to your school, takes over your gym, and LET’S YOU JUST GO SHOPPING FOR 5 HOURS! FOR BOOKS! WITHOUT YOUR PARENTS! You get to just write down whatever you want! No one judges you! You want a book about a bunny that turns into a vampire? Why don’t you check out Bunnicula! And some of the books even came with little trinkets! Like The Magic Charm books. They came with a necklace with a horse or ballet shoe charm or something like that. You were reading a story about a girl who has difficulty learning ballet who gets a ballet charm from her grandma or something and then WHAT?! You get the charm too, so you can match her?! THE BEST. So at a book fair, not only are you getting books, but sometimes you get trinkets too! Then your parents come and look at your list and if they were my mom, they would sometimes buy what you wanted and stock up for Christmas or birthdays. However, my mom also liked to go rogue. She’d get me random books that I didn’t ask for. That’s not to say I wasn’t grateful, but mostly they were educational books and ain’t nobody got time for that. I had bunny vampires and girls who sucked at ballet to read about!!

But that one year, Mom struck gold. A golden snitch, if you will. So this book with a boy and broom on the cover tumbles out of my bag…


“It’s a book about a boy who is a wizard. It’s supposed to be very good. I thought it might be something you’d like.”

My mom acted like that was going to sell me. This book had a boy on the cover. What use did I have for books with a boy on the cover? Gross. And don’t even act like that unicorn was going to sell me either. I never got unicorns as a kid. It’s a horse with a horn. Everyone calm the hell down.

But alas, I cracked open that book with a boy on the cover that night, and I was sold.

I love Harry Potter. Love even feels like an understatement. Those 7 books have influenced me more than I could write in words on a silly blog. In my darkest and twistiest times, those books have been a light for me.


My pops, Mark Andrews.

In February of 2004, my dad died of cancer. When my he passed away, I basically wanted to shut off from the world. I felt abandoned, alone, and devastated, as anyone probably does when they suffer that kind of loss. Death has always fascinated me, even when I was a child, but I had never had to experience it so closely.

I pulled away from my family. I wouldn’t call my grandparents or other relatives because it was too difficult. It was a constant reminder that these people knew my dad. They were a constant reminder that at one point he existed and thus, a constant reminder that he no longer did.

I threw myself into my group of friends, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it necessarily wasn’t the healthiest thing. My friends didn’t force me to talk about my feelings. I went to a private school for middle school and public school for high school. I made a lot of new friends when I went to high school, however, none of them really got a chance to meet or know my dad. He was already ill with cancer and frankly, there just wasn’t a lot of time.

This encouraged my pulling away. I surrounded myself with people who didn’t talk about my dad or force me to, because they couldn’t. I experimented with alcohol and cigarettes (sorry, Mom) and even self-harm. I wasn’t headed in the best direction, but luckily for me, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix was published in the United States on June 21, 2003. My dad passed away on February 21, 2004. Also luckily for me, I have a tendency to re-read the entire Harry Potter series at least once, and sometimes even twice, a year.

I began re-reading Order of the Phoenix that year and something struck a chord. Harry had just witnessed the murder of Cedric Diggory, no one believed him about Voldemort’s return, his friends were being secretive, and Dumbledore wouldn’t even look him in the eye. Harry was also feeling abandoned, alone, and devastated.

I began not to feel so alone. Here was a boy who had lost more than I could even fathom, and yet, he soldiered on. Death and loss no longer seemed so insurmountable.

And then above all, Harry loses Sirius. His godfather, his father-figure. It was almost too much for me. Nothing had hit so close to home in the months after my dad died.

Harry meets with Dumbledore in his office after the fight at the Ministry of Magic, after Sirius has been murdered. Harry begins to lash out in anger and destroy Dumbledore’s office:

“I DON’T CARE!” Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. “I’VE HAD ENOUGH, I’VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON’T CARE ANYMORE!”
“You do care,” said Dumbledore. He had not flinched or made a single move to stop Harry demolishing his office. His expression was calm, almost detached. “You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.”

There’s a great quote from the movie, The History Boys, that can explain the way I felt much more eloquently:

“The best moments in reading are when you come across something – a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things – that you’d thought special, particular to you. And here it is, set down by someone else, a person you’ve never met, maybe even someone long dead. And it’s as if a hand has come out, and taken yours.”

I began to not feel so alone. I began to let myself feel the pain of my dad’s loss because feeling pain is what makes us human. Feeling any kind of emotion, really.

It has taken me years to come to terms with the loss of my dad, and frankly, I still haven’t. You never get over it, you simply get used to it. Fortunately, I have an amazing support system; my family, those friends I had in high school, and all the friends I have made since, were and are some pretty amazing people.

But, I will forever be grateful to The Boy Who Lived for helping me not to feel so alone during the dark times.


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5 Guys I Would Eat Chives For

Happy Friday!

So, I was originally going to title this post “5 Guys I Would Let Make Me Breakfast”, but let’s get real, why would I EVER stop anyone from making me breakfast? I’m not a psychopath. If you want to make me breakfast, then good god, get moving!

Since it’s Friday and for most of you, that means it’s the weekend, I have decided to post something kind of fluffy and fun. I don’t think anyone wants to kick off their weekend by readings posts about euthanasia or The Holocaust. Not that I think I will ever write posts about euthanasia or The Holocaust, I’m just saying it’s not happening today.

It’s no secret that I’m a fan of guys with nice faces and it’s also no secret that I am not a fan of chives. Chives are disgusting. They are a terrible garnish and they need to get the hell off of my baked potato. The only place a chive belongs is in the trashcan, do I make myself clear?!?

However, there are certain guys that have such nice faces, I would be willing to pile those green bastards on top of everything I ate if it meant that I could eat with said men.

So here they are: The 5 Guys I Would Eat Chives For.

5. Adam Levine


When I Fell in Love: Saw Maroon 5 in concert in 2003 and about lost my damn mind. Also, my middle name is “Jane” so I used to like to pretend believe that the album “Songs About Jane” was Adam’s subtle way of writing about me. It’s fine.

Boyfriend can rock that sleeve of tattoos. Don’t know what it is lately, but tattoo sleeves are really doing it for me. And listen, if Adam had regular sleeves on, that would be fine too. It’s chilly out, I understand you need to cover up those arms and stay warm.

Food I Would Put Chives On So I Could Eat With Him: Eggs. He seems like kind of a player, so I’m not going to full on commit and put the chives on something I truly enjoy. A girl has some priorities after all…

4. Leonardo DiCaprio



When I Fell in Love: I’ve been a fan since his Growing Pains days, but the true love did not really come until that moment in Romeo + Juliet when he sinks to the ground, shirt open, crying and screams out “I defy you stars!” Like…come on…

Not to mention, boyfriend has aged WELL. Cute kid, hot teenager, handsome man. Leo has been hitting all the right notes. Look at that face! I will say though, his twitter…super boring. Don’t care. Still following. Good face.

Food I Would Put Chives On So I Could Eat With Him: Panda Express’s Orange Chicken. One of my favorite guilty pleasures and the chives would probably make it taste like something you’d find next to a dumpster in New York City in the summer. But, I’d take the hit if it meant Leo and I got to sit in that booth. He’d probably cry into my shoulder about having never won an Oscar, and most of the time when men cry, I get super uncomfortable, BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I WON’T WIPE THOSE TEARS RIGHT AWAY FOR YOU, LEO. YOU SHOULD HAVE AT LEAST GOTTEN A NOM FOR DJANGO!

3. Chris Hemsworth


When I Fell in Love: Thor.

Look at that Australian bastard walking around like he owns the place. Get out of here, you doting father and husband! No one wants to hear your adorable accent or look at your nice face! Ugh!

Food I Would Put Chives On So I Could Eat With Him: Bacon. I’d put chives on my bacon. The perfect food ruined by the most heinous food on this green earth. All for that idiot with the “so-so” body. Pft.

2. Matt Smith


When I Fell in Love: Doctor Who, Series 5, in the episode “Vincent and the Doctor”. First episode of Doctor Who I have ever seen and I was a goner.

Frankly, I don’t even get this one. He is basically just a giraffe with a rectangle for a face with hair on top. But man, if he isn’t one sexy giraffe with a rectangle for a face with hair on top.

His portrayal of the Doctor is brilliant and I think that’s part of my willingness to eat the chives. He’s an insanely talented actor who dresses like a homeless hipster. I think if I had a type, it would be the type of guy who dresses like a homeless hipster.


why, Hollis….why….

Food I Would Put Chives On So I Could Eat With Him: Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. I’m pretty sure Reese’s Cups come straight from heaven, so the idea tarnishing them with chives makes me want to absolutely vomit. But I would do it for you, giraffe-man.






When I Fell in Love: I don’t know if I can remember a time when I didn’t love this man, but if we have to put a title on it, I’ll say: The Hangover. I thought he was nice to look at before, but his long hair WAS. A. GAME. CHANGER. I just want to run my hands through it. Augh!

Oh, Bradley. When are we going to stop this cat and mouse game and finally make it official?? And by cat and mouse game, I mean the game we play where I love Bradley unconditionally and he doesn’t acknowledge my existence.


Those are the ugliest sunglasses in the world and he still makes them work!

Food I Would Put Chives On So I Could Eat With Him: Chives. I would eat chives upon chives upon chives. I would live in a house made of chives and wear chive t-shirts and make chive soup every day. I’d sleep in a bed made of chives and brush my teeth with a chivebrush. Chives for everyone provided by Mr. and Mrs. Bradley Cooper!!!

So I hope you enjoyed this post. It wasn’t super fascinating but it WAS an excuse for me to complain about chives and google image search a bunch of dudes that I find attractive. Happy Friday indeed!!

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Joining SAG and other ramblings


I feel like I always need to use a greeting at the beginning of these entries. I mean, I guess it’s not a complete necessity, but it feels rude not to. It’s probably the same reason I used to start a lot of my diary entries in elementary school by saying “Hi Diary! It’s Hollis. Sorry I haven’t written to you in a while…” My 9-year-old brain also believed that I needed to tell my diary exactly who I was, list off every member of my family (including pets), explain that my parents were divorced and end by explaining who my favorite Backstreet Boy was (Brian, duh). I don’t know if I thought maybe some day I might suffer from amnesia and my diary would be the key to retrieving my memory or that it would be an “Anne Frank” situation and future generations would need to know all about my hamster named Squeaky, but I thought every diary needed to know exactly who I was.


This is the human who wrote in that diary. The girl who believed she was the future Anne Frank.


I joined SAG yesterday, or The Screen Actors Guild if you want to get fancy about it. Not going to lie, it’s a pretty big deal. If I pay my dues and what not, I’m in this thing for life. I’ve been trying my hand at this “professional acting” thing for a little while now and I feel like I have started getting somewhere. OZ: The Great and Powerful finally came out and it was pretty amazing to finally see the movie that changed my entire life. Before I got OZ, I was working at a heating and cooling company in customer service. And don’t get me wrong, I was so grateful to even have a job out of college, but it just wasn’t for me. First of all, most of the customers didn’t even laugh at my jokes and second, I’ve just never really felt a strong passion for the heating and cooling game. I mean some passion, just not a strong passion. I majored in Creative Writing and Theatre in college and so I was a bit out of place.

Then on a whim, my Grandma and I decided to go to the open call for OZ. Actually the only reason I went was because my mom used the whole “I think it would be really nice if you did this for your grandmother…who knows how much longer she’ll be around…” line. I did not even know that they were looking for little people. Long story short (pun intended, short joke, zing!) I ended up working on the movie for two months and made some amazing connections and even more important, some amazing friends. But what the movie really did was provide clarity. It showed me that I would never truly be happy doing anything that wasn’t acting. I think deep down I’ve always known that. But, OZ convinced me and here I am. I’ve found a modicum of “success” (making money) doing what I love and it’s pretty great.

Granted, that could all change tomorrow and I could be on Sunset and Gower begging you for change or for your Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles leftovers. But for now, I’m going to enjoy the fact that I can actually call myself a professional actress.

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A Few Things I Have Learned Since Moving to Los Angeles

On January 23, 2012, I moved myself out to lovely, lovely Los Angeles. And I’m going to be completely honest and tell you…I did not know what the hell I was doing. Ask anyone. And frankly, I still don’t, but that is not the point. I’ve basically only scratched the surface here, but here are some things I’ve picked up along the way.



Look at that shit! What even! I grew up in Grosse Pointe, which is probably like a 30th the size of Los Angeles. Before I moved here, the last time I had visited the city was in 2006, when I was 17. And even then, I think we were here for like 2 days? All I can remember is going to Disneyland. I don’t even remember what part of the city we stayed in. Seems like it really had an impact on me, so it only makes sense that I chose to move my entire life here 6 years later. Yet, here I am. There are still highways here I’ve never heard of. Someone said something today about the 118. Don’t even know what or where that is. Pretty sure they were lying to me. I like my 101, 170, 134, and 405, thank you very much.

The trick with LA is finding the section of the city you want to be in. Again, I had no idea what I wanted before I moved here. Luckily (for me, not him), I met my friend, Chris while working on OZ. He has lived here for a decent chunk of time and basically told me exactly where to move in the city. I mean, not exactly, he didn’t have an apartment available (lame) but, he did give me some cross-streets. Without his advice, I would probably be living in Long Beach and paying millions in gas to get to work.*

*At time of publication, the author was unemployed. Joke’s on her.

2. No matter how safe you think your shit is or how safe a neighborhood is, it probably isn’t.

People are assholes. Don’t ever leave your things in your car and leave said car for any amount of time. Just basically don’t trust anyone ever and live life as a hermit.

3. Nothing will ever taste as good as Jack in the Box at 2 a.m. Nothing.

4. Don’t be a jerk.

LA might be a big city, but you’d be surprised at how many people know other people who know people. Working in the entertainment industry really teaches you how small the world can actually be. And the thing is, the bigger jerk you are, the more people find out about it. I knew someone when I first moved out here who was a real asshat. He did some pretty atrocious things and I since don’t talk to him. But, I was working onset the other day and someone asked if I knew him. As she and I got to talking more, I found out that he was a real asshat to her too. She then said she talked to her manager about him, and he won’t be working with them anymore.

I mean, this is really more of a life principle, but, just don’t be a jerk.

5. Always pay the parking meter.

Even if you’re just running into CVS for “a few things, seriously I’ll only be 3 minutes.” You’ll get a ticket. And those tickets become 6 more tickets and all of a sudden, your mom is mad because all of these parking tickets are sent to your house in Michigan because you still haven’t changed your vehicle registration.

Mom, if you’re reading this, I swear I’ll get around to changing my registration.

6. Call your Mom.

And while you’re at it, call your grandparents, your aunts and uncles, and your brother.

At some point you’re going to need help out here. And even though they are thousands of miles away, these are the people who will help you no matter what. They love you.

7. Get out of your apartment!

Have I mentioned how big LA is?! That means there are mountains to hike, beaches to visit, and things to do. And bonus, the sun is kind of always out. Even if you walk to the nearest Starbucks, just going outside makes everything like 436x better.

8. Find a good group of friends.



“Look at those nerds! They all seem awesome! No way they are actually that great!” is what you’re saying to yourself and I’m telling you, you’re wrong. I had some really crappy times when I first moved out here, enough that I was willing to move home. But then these clowns made me realize what I’d be missing out on. I have only been out here a year and I already have memories to spare. And a scar on my chin! Which is another fun memory!

To bring things full circle (or a callback, if you’re James), LA is a huge city and it’s so easy to feel alone, especially if the rest of your friends and family are 2,000 miles away. But, if you have people like this in your life, that won’t happen so often. Friends become your ohana. And if Lilo and Stitch has taught me anything, it’s that ohana means family and family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.


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What up

Hi there!

I’m guessing most of you who are reading this probably know me, but I figure I’ll give you a little introduction anyway, mostly because I like to hear (read?) myself talk (type?).

I’m a 24 year-old kid/woman/girl living in Los Angeles and trying to “make it” as an actress. My best friend, Kerri, recently started a blog and, in doing so, inspired me to start one as well. We were discussing how neither one of us journal, but both of us don’t mind blogging and how in most ways, they’re very similar. However, with blogging…you get to have an audience. And there is nothing I love more than people listening/laughing/crying at what I have to say. Let’s face it, I’m hilarious.

My postings will probably be varied and different. I tried to write a blog a few years ago and on that one, I only wrote about TV. While the New York Times called it “Brilliant! Genius! Better than anything that hack, Tolstoy, ever wrote!” I grew bored with it very quickly. I can’t be tamed, people!! So, I figure I am a lot more likely to keep up with this if I can just write whatever is on my mind.

Thin mint girl scout cookies!

See? That’s what was on my mind. And that’s the kind of excitement you can expect from me.

So come check me out! And while you’re at it, feel free to check out my blog too.

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