God, finally!

So my last week has been utter and total hell. I got arrested for rushing the stage on American Idol, got set up on a reality TV show in a bunker underground somewhere with a bunch of idiots, my dog and several of his friends started a revolution, but most importantly, I lost five pounds. I am SO sad. Now, a girl never says how much she weighs, and five pounds is really a drop in the bucket for me, but still. I didn’t want to lose that weight! I can’t believe they only gave us three meals a day. Three! I was starving to death, I swear.

But all that aside, I realized once Comrade Lenin sprung me out of Hollywood jail, things were very different in California… There were kittens all over every street. Dogs and cats chasing each other merrily down the avenues. Killer rabbits throwing holy hand grenades that exploded with confetti at passersby. Really quite strange things. I swear I was hallucinating. Almost like how grandma hallucinates that she can hear animals. I saw a few cats run by wearing Guy Fawkes masks. Did I take acid or something this morning and not know it? I mean I have heard that they put drugs in the water in California, but this was just too strange.

Comrade Lenin saw to it that I made it safely on my plane to New York. Unfortunately, I kind of tipped the weight limit on it and some people had to sacrifice their luggage so the plane could get off the ground (just kidding — well, only sort of). But nevertheless, I made it safely back to New York so I can now avenge my dear Mohinder’s unceremonious sporking to the ceiling. It warms my big (big big BIG) heart to know that someone missed me, even if he is out to eventually steal my power and eat me. I keep telling him that if he eats my brain, he’ll put on like 8,375 pounds, but I don’t think he’s listening. And it’s not like my brain is all that appetizing anyways (not that I’ve ever tried to eat it before). But I imagine it’s probably full of thoughts of cotton candy, bad childhood memories, David Hasselhoff crying (WTF? That’s not my memory…), fluffy kittens, and spoons. Oh, spoons. I love spoons.

See, in one of my old theatre courses back in high school, one of our teachers would threaten us with spoons. Those little plastic ones really hurt if you have one chucked at you! Beware the spoons! Violent l’il buggers, they are! Anyways, we got him a golden spoon when we graduated. Hmmm. I don’t know what made me remember that. Spoons have hidden agendas. Sure, they look all innocent just sitting there, waiting to be plunged into some ice cream — but if you listen closely, you can hear them conspiring with the forks to run away. Seriously. Stop looking at me funny! You know you can hear them, too! Okay, I think grandma’s genes are acting up again. Can anyone cure me of my senility before I hit thirty? Please? In a way that doesn’t involve a temporal lobotomy (sorry underwater breathing shark man dress guy. :/)

While checking my email on my stolen laptop, I also noticed that mr glasses seems to have been broken for a little while. That made me sad, but only for about a minute or so until I found a food stand that sold pancakes. Mmm. Pancakes. I love pancakes. Especially with bacon. I just love how when it’s cooked perfectly, it curls up and gets all brown around the edges–I really need to stay focused on my plan of attack here. I’m not back in NY to eat bacon. I’m here to save Mohinder from being eaten by his ceiling. Those poor sporks. What I wouldn’t give to have their ominous and macabre job of holding him to the ceiling! I’m sighing wistfully now.

Apparently in my absence, MY MOTHER got into my account. That’s interesting. So much can happen in a week. She called me up once I got back into NY and talked to me.

Mom: WHEN YOU GET BACK?
Me: A few minutes ago. I have to go save Mohinder now.
Mom: YOU COME FOR DINNER?
Me: No, mom, I’m on an important mission to save Mohinder! You know, “Save the Hindu, Save the World?”
Mom: LANA ARE YOU ON THE DRUGS?!
Me: Huh?
Mom: YOU KNOW, THE DRUGS. THE MA-RI-JU-A-NA.
Me: No.
Mom: WHO THIS MOHINDU?!
Me: Mohinder.
Mom: OH, MOHINDER! I LIKE HIM! IS GOOD! HE VER NICE! YOU GO TO KIDNAP?
Me: Yeh–NO. I’d never do such a thing!
Mom: OLDEST DAUGHTER MUST KIDNAP FUTURE HUSBAND! IS TRADITION!
Me: …How’s grandma?
Grandma: HA! COMRADE LENIN START REVOLUTION! ALL THE TIME KITTENS AND BUNNIES FROLIC HAPPILY THROUGH STREETS OF HOLLYWOOD! MAKE GOOD FUN!
Me: I’ll take that as meaning she’s doing all right.
Grandma: LANA, I SEND COMRADE LENIN TO SAVE YOU. HE VER SMART DOG. START GLORIOUS REVOLUTION! BREAK YOU OUT OF HOLLYWOOD TV JAIL! HE SMART DOG, HAVE MANY CREDIT CARDS, EH?
Me: Yes…?
Mom: YOU GO MOHINDER HOUSE, BREAK DOWN FROM CEILING AND BRING BACK HERE!
Me: I’m not sure if he’d like that. I mean, he’s kind of attached to his ceiling. And I just got finished redecorating his apartment, too.
Mom: WE COME HELP! WE BRING THE TOOLS!
Me: Oh God, no.
Grandma: AT LEAST YOU KNOW WHERE HUSBAND IS! GRANDPA IVAN LEAVE MANY YEAR AGO, NEVER SAY HE LEAVE TO JOIN GYPSY CIRCUS! MAKE GRANDMA VER SAD. SO GRANDMA RUN INTO HIM ONE DAY IN CIRCUS ON TIGHTROPE AND TRY TO–
Me: Okay, I’ll go scrape him off the ceiling — just don’t follow me.

Trust me. Grandma’s old Russian stories can drag on for an eternity. Anyways, with that conversation out of the way, I put up my things and set off on my next quest: To take over the world! to save the Hindu so I could take over save the world. Wish me luck!

~ Lana