Does a Prison ID Count?

It's been a while since I've posted on this blog. I almost forgot I had it! Untill the repeated ring of "recession" in the news and my own new-found poverty extremes reminded me of something...my adventures in cheapness must continue in blog form!

And boy do they continue...only better! I now live in Los Angeles. It's a new, shiny city with all new quirks and glitches. There are strange and grimy, and sometimes beautiful adventures around every turn. Plus, I get to meet some of the weirdest people in the world. No joke.

I've been here 3 months and have yet to find a job. It's not my fault. The economy is in shambles. It doesn't matter that I can type 95 words a minute (is this even possible?) or have a perfect score on the Miscrosoft Word 2003 Prove It! (TM) Test. These days, you can't even sleep your way to an entry-level position with long hours, shitty pay, and no benefits.

Which brings me to the job that you CAN get. Extra work. Anybody can get this job. You don't have to be sane. You don't have to be able to carry a conversation. The only job requirement is to look "general" while out of focus. (Spoiler alert: Anybody can do this!)

The extras fall into two basic categories:

1. Wannabe actors that can't get a job.
2. Ex-cons, degenerates, and the mentally deranged.

I don't want to be an actor, so I guess I fall into Group Two!

Now, actors may be annoying, and bottom of the barrel, delusional wannabe actors are often even more annoying, depending on your taste. Being a little wierd and aggravating is one thing. They talk about new-age religion, goal-setting, and positive thinking. There are numerous references to "The Secret." But really, they're not going to murder you in your sleep.

But who will murder you in your sleep?

There is something lower and grimier than extra work. Something that makes extra work look like a luxurious cruise on an ocean-liner...in comparison to say...drowning. If you are looking for somebody to: perform a cheap assassination, get you some meth, stalk you, or _____ (fill in blank), there is only one place to go...

The exhaust pipe of Hollywood: AUDIENCE WORK.

You know when you watch a TV show and everyone seems to be having such a great time? Those people are the extra-super-duper-unemployed of the world, working for $8 cash an hour and a chance to make some good dope contacts.

After being rejected at the Starbucks Job Fair (too qualified?) and applying for 100+ jobs without success, I now find myself being an expert of the audience work world.

There are many deprivations. Denial of pee breaks. Lack of food and water. Sore hands from clapping. Mornings waiting in the hot sun.

But there are also tricks of the trade. I tried using a book for a sun shield. The glue on the spine melted, but I saved myself from a nasty burn. When water was denied, I lapped it up from the sink. Knowing that every show is overbooked, I arrive early to wait without pay and make sure I get in.

By far the biggest hazard is the other people. I have learned not to talk to anyone. All questions are answered with "I don't know." Any indirect questions are returned with a look of boredom and disinterest. If someone is staring at you, refuse to make eye contact. If they are sitting next to you and staring at you, turn your body and give them the back of your head. Don't be fooled by anybody who strikes up a conversation and seems normal. Remember, there are only 2 categories, both of them disasterous! And there are no exceptions! If someone seems normal, you just haven't talked to them long enough. But make no mistake, extras never stop talking. Never.

One day I found myself in an I-20 t-shirt in the audience of the game show Bingo America. If one of the contestants won using our #, we got $25.00. (These days, that is a exciting offer! I no longer go to bars, buy dinner out, engage in the purchase of "miscellaneous items." I have my eye on the rent. Period. $25.00 used to be a few drinks after work. Now it's a week's food budget.)

While we stood in line to go inside Bingo America, we were told that in order to be paid, we would have to possess a valid ID- drivers license, what have you. The man behind me yelled out with no sense of irony or embarassment, "Prison ID okay?"

It was and it wasn't. Prison acceptable as proof of identification, yes. Prison acceptable as general mode of operation and behavior? Even Bingo America has its limits.

During the first show, the gentleman in question, who I'll call G-46, became convinced that G-44 was sent by the devil to kill him. He went on a tirade of insults designed to spur G-44 to stand up and fight him. Example: "You're pathetic. What have you ever done in your life? Nothing." How does he know all this? G-44, unfortunately, was unable to follow the wandering monologue and understand what was happening. I-19 was offended by all the swearing and prayed to Jesus for assistance. G-43, the victim of much botched plastic surgery, attracted the attention of an audience coordinator. This guy is a familiar face in the crowd staffing world, widely ridiculed for appearing to be on coke early in the mornings. Without emotion, without curiosity about the altercation, he escorted G-46 out of the building.

Hours later when we were leaving the show, G-46 was still standing outside the studio. I watched from a distance to see what he was up to. Turns out, he had been waiting all day for G-43 and G-44. He felt bad about the whole sour episode, all a misunderstanding really. He wanted to make amends, and to ask G-43 out on a date. To my surprise, G-43 accepted, and off they went.

I Heart Cabs

The one exception to my general quest for cheapness is my love for cabs. Taking a cab can be like an angel coming down from heaven and saving you from the jaws of a crocodile before you're about to go into the death spin.

Imagine this scenario... You're cold and alone, you're going to have to take multiple trains. The trains are going to be delayed. The conductor will pass you up and give you the finger for fun. Maybe you are waiting for a train that only runs on Wednesdays between 4:30-7 when the moon is full, but you didn't know. If you ever get on the train, you're probably on the wrong train, or going the wrong way, or the train schedule has changed. Odds are a homeless man will masturbate in front of you. Then you have to walk in the snow. By the time you get to your destination, the party is over and you are ready to end the whole mess before you'd go back into the labyrinth of public transportation. You'll probably wake up in an abandoned hotdog stand in Coney Island with a used condom in your pocket, a needle in your hand, and a handful of baby carrots scattered on your bare chest.

Or...you can just take a cab. If $10 can prevent this kind of pscyhological derangement and emotional scarring, I say that's a value buy.

Red Velvet is Basically Chocolate Cake (?)

My good friend Sara recently suggested buying a $70.00 red velvet cake for a friend's karaoke birthday party. To save money, I offered to make it myself. The only problem is that red velvet cake does not come in a box.

After walking all around Greenpoint in a torrential downpour, I entered what my roommate promised was the biggest grocery store in town. It was clearly the largest selection of cake mixes I would be able to find, but alas, no red velvet.

Remembering that red velvet is a form of chocolate cake, I bought a box of devil's food chocolate mix, and a bottle of red sprinkles. I mixed the red sprinkles into the chocolate batter and cooked it up. At present, the cake has a reddish brown hue but does not look or taste at all like red velvet cake. I am hoping this is sufficient to fool a dimly lit room full of drunk people.

Laundromat Fights

Apparently the laundromat is a good place to go if you're looking for a fight. I visited my new neighborhood laundromat for the first time this weekend. While it is not as "classy" as some of the brightly lit, rodent-free laundrettes up the block, it's right around the corner from my apartment.

There are obvious problems with the place:

1. Arcade game where change machine should be (seems like it would be cool, but actually even more inconvenient as you can't even get quarters to play the arcade game.)
2. Danger of your clothes smelling like burnt toast if you pick the wrong dryer.
3. G.I. Jane starring Demi Moore playing on the TV, but set to the soundtrack of Mariachi music.

These things are all acceptable, or at least must be accepted upon entering the laundromat. Fine. But the unforseen problem is that this laundromat is frequented by territorial old Indian ladies ready for a scuffle.

True of False: It is OK to "save seats" by filling your ridiculous amount of laundry into 50% of the washers in the place and then coming back to start it later?

This was exactly the disagreement at the heart of the confrontation that ensued when I tried to remove the abandoned clothes from a stagnant washer commandeered by this laundry lady. I'm small enough that I usually would think twice before provoking a fight, but my opponent had to stand on a stool to place detergent in Slots 1 and 2. She has craziness on her side, but I have youth and quickness. Point being, we will meet again, and next time, I will be ready for her.

And so it begins...

Hi! Welcome to my blog! This is where you can follow my attempts to live the good life while working 20 hours a week. And sometimes less.

I hope you can pick up some ideas how you too can channel the power of cheapness.

To start things off, here's a summary of my cheap-tivities for today:

-Instead of buying The Social Contract, Plato's Politics, and Plato's Ethics, which I needed for school, I read them for free on the floor in Barnes and Noble.

-At the pizzeria where I got a slice for lunch, I asked for a free cup of water instead of buying a drink.

-Instead of going out tonight and spending money, I am writing a blog.

During my reading today, I came across this gem:

The word 'finance' is the word of a slave.

–Jean-Jacques Rousseau

What this means is anybody's guess, but I'm inclined to think he was on to something.