Stoopidnuss Is Bad For Your Health

Put me in the category of: DO NOT RESUSCITATE. Last night, after working hard and feeling much better from my quasi-flu induced symptoms brought on my allergies; I headed home with Biggie and Moby on the iPod. I pulled up in front of my apartment, ready to sit down to another delicious episode of Flight of the Conchords, which Sara purchased for me for my birthday. I get out of my truck, rummaging through my keys to find…wait, no keys. I’ve lost the keys to my apartment! “Goddamnit,” I scream into the Wednesday night only populated by snarky drunks. I hate it when I do stupid things. Even more so, I hate it when the stupid things are monumental. Now it’s too late to call my landlord and God knows that when I do, I’ll be out on my ass by about $100.00. Short-term solution is to retrace the steps from my day…

…I head back to La Jolla, back to University City, my mind racing through the day as to where these keys might have slipped out. I did drop my keys (all of them) while carrying three quiches and a box of cookies out from Trader Joes. That’s the first place I look. Surly the eco-friendly, organically snobbish customers would turn it in…or just leave it on the ground, perhaps. No luck on either front…I visited Ralph’s Grocery store, but the guy behind the counter couldn’t locate mis pobres llaves. Que lastima, indeed! “Hey, man! How you doin’? Havin’ a good night?” asked a local drunk chick sitting on the hood of her car. I wanted to grab her by the face and scream, “Does it look like I’m having a good night!?!” Instead, I went with the almighty thumbs up and pursed lip smile.

…Next step, back to work. The administrative offices are very creepy at night. Once midnight rolls around, regardless if you are in the building or not, the lights go down. Some people still lurk the theater (like Doug from the shops, who sleeps in a van in the parking lot…for real), but mostly it’s just empty. If you are lucky enough to walk the hallways of darkness and catwalks lit to pitch black nothingness, like I did, you can genuinely creep yourself out. Fun fact: you can also use the space to hold movie nights with your friends—I sat in on a little of their screening of Blazing Saddles and forgot how much I love that scene where Slim Pickens holds himself hostage. Beautiful.

…Back to the search, which meant going to Crossroads, the apartment complex our theater rents out to house our actors, designers, and visiting staff. It’s a nice place to temporary stay in. I actually lived in one of the units for a month after first moving down to San Diego. But when you are tired, gross, homeless, and upset, it’s not the best place to cheer one’s spirits. I was there earlier in the night to clear out some apartments, so I knew at least one of them was empty. Yes, folks, I bummed it in the dirty apartment of my workplace. I was officially homeless…what else could I do?

Only got four hours of sleep. I was surprisingly lucid this morning as I went to the JCC to swim. I really didn’t care about the workout—though it seems to help when I’m frustrated—I just wanted to feel clean. Retraced my steps one last time around the shopping mall city of our fair land with no trace of my keys. I went into work early, repressed my bad thoughts by diving into work (on a good note: one of my co-workers who’s helping me with my proposal for the Hodder Fellowship got back to me with some great notes!) and called my landlord. Here we go! I get paid today and already a third of it will go to getting me back in my apartment. He called me back with a monotone assistance to his voice: “It’s your lucky day. I have an extra set. Are you on your lunch break?” I am now. I rushed down, got the keys as he was leaving, and bolted home to make some lunch and put on a fresh pair of underwear.

Such an idiot sometimes.