Aurora Nibley's Journal
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Wednesday, May 10, 2006
So, here at Universal Studios we have self-flushing toilets. You know, the kind that flush themselves when you stand up. Except that I don't seem to register properly on their sensors. Either they flush while I'm still sitting on them (apparently thinking that whoever was there has just left), or they fail to flush when I get up. Or, quite often, both. This isn't just one toilet. This has been happening in different stalls, in different bathrooms, in different buildings, all over the theme park and office complex.
Nor is this a new development. When I was in college, I found that I was unable to visit our local McDonald's unaccompanied because the automatically opening doors would never open for me. Never. But they would open for anyone else who happened to be with me.
So what gives? Why is it that electronic sensors cannot sense me? Am I a ghost, or from another dimension or something? Or do I just have the most worthless X-Men-esque mutation ever?
Monday, April 17, 2006
So, I took my tourguiding test about a week and a half ago and haven't been updating since then because I passed. They put me to work the very next day, and because I am so po I can't afford the or, I took as many shifts as I could get until I blew my voice out and was forced to take a day off, which is today.
It is a very interesting and fun job, with many strange occurrences almost certain to happen on a daily basis.
Actually, I was telling Josh (my boyfriend) last night that this is the perfect job for me, for that very reason: Random insanity is always happening to me, no matter what. Now that I have a job that practically guarantees a pretty good amount of random insanity, it is less likely to catch me off guard. So far, I have been working for a week and I have already
1. Been the first guide to premiere a new tour attraction
2. Been stuck for over fifteen minutes at said attraction when it unexpectedly broke down
3. Had a seeing eye dog on the tram (which was loads of fun inside King Kong, let me tell you), and
4. Been recognized elsewhere in the park when I was on my lunch break, by people who rode on my tour.
So all in all, it's a pretty great job. I'm not going to complain about it.
Wednesday, April 5, 2006
I don't know if I properly explained this, but while you're in training, you still aren't officially considered a Universal Studios employee. You have to pass your tram test first, and this test will take place tomorrow. People have been weeping, wailing, gibbering, etc. I was cornered by three trainers yesterday and told that if I didn't smile more all the stupid people would pass before I did. Which I thought was unkind, as I don't think of anyone in our class of being below average intelligence. I do know that I passed the written test on Monday with high marks, although I wasn't the top of the class.
I really need this job, to get me out of the house if nothing else. I guess we'll just have to see how it goes tomorrow. Until then, then.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
I don't care how good they keep telling us this job is, even if they're right. If I ever have another day like yesterday, I will sabotage all the trams.
This week, they've been getting us out there and giving practice tours, which is awesome. They have us in small groups of two or three, and we go through the tour route switching off as we go, and then before we leave, we all split up and go through the route one more time, going through the entire tour on our own--it's what they call a pencil tour.
These are very good study aids. But. When it is raining like a motherfucker, and all of the tour animations (King Kong, Jaws, etc), have already been shut down for the day, and you've already been through the tour three times, and all of your guidelets are begging to go home, A PENCIL TOUR WILL NOT HELP THEM LEARN. Seriously. I spent six hours sitting on a tram in the rain yesterday, which--I cannot emphasize this enough--was my birthday, and when they told us they weren't going to cancel the pencil tour, I started crying. And I wasn't the only one. We couldn't feel our feet. And we didn't bother going over our tour material either. It wasn't that we didn't want to. It was just that our higher brain functions were shutting down. One girl fell asleep twice, and another girl nearly fell down when we got out of the tram because her circulation had been cut off for so long.
I don't like to complain. It isn't really worth my time. But that was completely inhumane, and I am irate about it.
Of course, the weather today is gorgeous. And we have the day off.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
We got off the tour yesterday (We take the tour every day, with a different tourguide, as part of training. Every guide has a different style, and they want us to see as many as we can), and they revealed to us that the guide who had just given us our tour was legally blind.
We can't even give the tour as well as a BLIND MAN.</i.
First of all, good news! Our class is still intact. Our friend who had the accident on Wednesday showed up on Friday, saying he was no more than a little banged up and as long as he took his painkillers and skipped the rides at the park for a little while, he'd be fine.
So the first thing we did was a five-mile forced march.
Not really. Well, sort of. We took a walking tour of the back lot. This was actually very cool, because there's a lot you can see on foot that you can't see on a tram, because trams are large and don't fit inside buildings, and trams are also noisy and can't go close to areas where people are filming and need it to be quiet. We got to inside many of the sets and facades, and at one point I climbed up onto the roof of the Brownstone Street buildings. Climbing was pretty much the theme of the day, though, because the thing about the back lot is, it's built on a hill. The tour goes down the hill, starts at the bottom, and works its way up, which isn't so bad on a tram but it's killer on foot.
Best moment of the tour: standing on the other side of the water when a tram went through the Jaws animation, and acting like we were part of the scene. All of us brought out our method training and developed a personal relationship with George, the wax dummy of a diver that the shark "eats" before it attacks the tram. We were quite upset to lose George, our dear brother/friend/former roommate/ex-lover. It was wonderful to be able to enhance the experience of the guests taking the tour. Next time, they'll totally be like, "Hey, aren't there supposed to be a bunch of people on the other side of the water?"
Except it was a Spanish tour, so they'll be more like, "Hey, donde esta los gentes?" with an upside-down question mark at the front of that.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
We had our first casualty today. He didn't drop out because of the pressure, he dropped out because he got hit by a BMW yesterday. He was jaywalking.
He says he's fine, though, and they'll probably just put him in the summer class.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
So, we had orientation on Sunday and we've had two days of training since then. There are 22 people in the class, including two people who were guides before and are coming back, and one lady who is going to be giving the tour only in Korean. There are two bilingual Spanish/English guide trainees as well, but they're going to learn the tour in English and not learn it in Spanish until they're already pretty good.
Basically what we're doing is just memorizing the script and taking the tour a lot so we know where everything is. Yesterday they showed us how to use the DVD player on the tram, so we can show clips from JAWS and the history of Ron Howard, etc. Tomorrow we're all going to be giving presentations on NBC prime time shows, and today is our day off. (I spent it at UCLA, being a volunteer patient for their dental school mock-board reviews. It's like the PSAT of dental school. I got all the teeth on the upper right side of my mouth cleaned for free, but my dental student, Rich, didn't clean the rest of them because he wants to save them for the REAL test at the end of May. What I want to know is, if the test is at the end of May, what are they doing having a pretend one in March? Is this actually useful? Anyway, it's just lucky that they scheduled it on a day I had off already.)
The coolest thing so far about being a tour guide trainee is that apparently, being a Universal Studio Tour Guide is like belonging to a really awesome acting fraternity. They hook us up with free movies, free acting classes, discounts all over Citywalk, all kinds of stuff. All of the Universal employees get that stuff (except for the acting classes), but you can tell--if Universal Studios Theme Park was a high school, the tour guides would be the kids who sat in the back of the bus and all got elected to prom court. And they keep telling us all these stories about tour guides that end up marrying other guides, or tram drivers. It's like, the biggest, cliquiest job ever. So it's basically awesome.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
So...yesterday I went to Universal Studios Theme Park to fill out my paperwork, as I have just been accepted into the new training class for Studio Guides. This promises to be an interesting occupation, due to its uniqueness, and I thought that keeping a blog of it would be interesting for me, at least. It could be like porn store clerk diaries, but with more trams and less porn.
Anyway. I made it through the three-interview screening process to get into the class, but before I am officially considered a guide, I have to make it through three weeks of training. Yesterday we all assembled to see who else had made it and to receive our 300-page training manual ("Don't worry, guys, you only need to memorize the first sixty pages or so"). We were also given homework assignments--I have a week to prepare a two-minute presentation on tricks directors have played on actors to make them act better, and apparently I'm supposed to watch as much Will & Grace as possible between now and next Thursday.
Wait, did I say this was going to be interesting? Sorry.
Sunday, February 1, 2004
So, yeah. I haven't really had a journal or blog since Brunchblogs shut down; I tried to start one on Blogger but for some reason that site doesn't agree with my computer. I didn't even look here because I was sure that my account had been closed, but apparently not. This is good news, for people who might care about my life...a group which basically consists of, well, me. But I'm happy, and that's all that really matters.
Wednesday, November 6, 2002
www.brunchblogs.com/users/zzzbeauty
Or something like that.
Tuesday, October 22, 2002
So yeah, once the shiny newness wore off, I kind of got over my livejournal. This was partly because I got busy with other things, partly because I have limited internet access due to sharing a non-dedicated line, but mostly because I couldn't really believe that my life was really all that interesting to people who aren't me. It isn't every day you get evicted from someone else's house, after all, and after starting with a story like that, there wasn't much chance of my topping it.
However, I got to feeling guilty, especially when I got asked about the lack of news (thanks, Andrew). Also, the one good thing to come out of my previous house/dog-sitting experience is that I can now offer myself to other dog owners as an experienced do caretaker, and have done just that. As a result, I am now in a beautiful condo in Santa Monica, literally three blocks away from the ocean, with one very small and comparatively low-maintenance dog and a dedicated line. So I can be a complete internet junkie for the next three days if I want to! Go me!
Anyway, as far asz the rest of my life: I just turned in my two week notice at the restaurant in order to pursue a fabulous career in motion pictures. I'm looking at oing some behind-the-scenes work for a while; it looks like a lot of fun, and I've really just gotten lazy about the whole acting thing. Hopefully I will be injected with new initiative in that direction soon, but in the meantime, I'm not stressing. I try not to stress in general, because when I do I am quickly overwhelmed.
Also, my opera opened this past weekend--I say "my" just because I'm in it; actually, I'm inly in the chorus, but I did adapt the text from the translation into what little dialogue there is, and even though it's horrible (no, really, it is; trust me), I'm still rather proud. I also may have made a contact that will be inviting me to sing down in Mexico, and how cool is that? More updates if it actually happens.
Okay,okay...I tend towads long posts, but I know that they are usually tougher to read, so I'll wrap it up. Hopefully I will be posting more often, so the entries can be shorter.
Fwuffy wuv to all!
So yeah, once the shiny newness wore off, I kind of got over my livejournal. This was partly because I got busy with other things, partly because I have limited internet access due to sharing a non-dedicated line, but mostly because I couldn't really believe that my life was really all that interesting to people who aren't me. It isn't every day you get evicted from someone else's house, after all, and after starting with a story like that, there wasn't much chance of my topping it.
However, I got to feeling guilty, especially when I got asked about the lack of news (thanks, Andrew). Also, the one good thing to come out of my previous house/dog-sitting experience is that I can now offer myself to other dog owners as an experienced do caretaker, and have done just that. As a result, I am now in a beautiful condo in Santa Monica, literally three blocks away from the ocean, with one very small and comparatively low-maintenance dog and a dedicated line. So I can be a complete internet junkie for the next three days if I want to! Go me!
Anyway, as far asz the rest of my life: I just turned in my two week notice at the restaurant in order to pursue a fabulous career in motion pictures. I'm looking at oing some behind-the-scenes work for a while; it looks like a lot of fun, and I've really just gotten lazy about the whole acting thing. Hopefully I will be injected with new initiative in that direction soon, but in the meantime, I'm not stressing. I try not to stress in general, because when I do I am quickly overwhelmed.
Also, my opera opened this past weekend--I say "my" just because I'm in it; actually, I'm inly in the chorus, but I did adapt the text from the translation into what little dialogue there is, and even though it's horrible (no, really, it is; trust me), I'm still rather proud. I also may have made a contact that will be inviting me to sing down in Mexico, and how cool is that? More updates if it actually happens.
Okay,okay...I tend towads long posts, but I know that they are usually tougher to read, so I'll wrap it up. Hopefully I will be posting more often, so the entries can be shorter.
Fwuffy wuv to all!
Sunday, August 25, 2002
The new girl at work looks exactly like Anna Nicole Smith. Exactly. Makeup, hair, everything. Her fingernails are American flags. It's an interesting fashion choice.
Current mood:  amused
Friday, August 23, 2002
I just got home from having dinner with Orson Scott Card.
*gloat*
Thought I'd share.
Sunday, August 18, 2002
Before I got kicked off and started swearing at Skullx for nothing he had done wrong, I was writing about how bored I am. I don't have anything to do, and if you know anything about my life, that is not a usual state of affairs for me.
The problem, actually, is not so much that I don't have anything to do as that I have a lot to do and I'm just not doing it right now. So I sit, and I stew, because I can't turn my brain off.
I'm worried about this movie that I just got cast in. The producer seems to be insane, and while I recognize that this might not necessarily be a bad thing for making a movie, when someone first tells me that their movie is a lot like a Woody Allen kind of thing, and then tell me later that their movie is a lot like a Federico Fellini kind of thing, I am not sure what to think. Has anyone ever seen a full-length Fellini movie? I haven't. All I've ever seen of his is weird clips of midgets and/or obese people looking weird on beaches. At least I know that I am neither a midget or obese. I wonder if they're going to want me to get naked and paint myself or something. I draw the line at simulated sex acts.
And then there's this guy.... I swore to myself when I started this journal that I would never use it to pine over boys, but apparently I have no will power. I gave him my number, and that was good for me for a lot of reasons, because I'm used to being appreciated by members of the opposite sex, but it's been a while since I've cared. It has taken me a long time to get over my last relationship, so actually having someone that I want to appreciate me besides my ex feels good. And I was very cool about it. We were having a good conversation, nothing heavy, not really flirting even, and then he was getting orders or something on his headset, so I wrote down my number and gave it to him, and I was like, "Well, I can see you're busy so just call me some time when you're not and we can talk or something." Very no pressure.
But now, because I don't have anything else to think about, I'm stewing. He hasn't called, but that's okay, because I'm factoring in the 48-hour rule. But then he's going to have a crazy work schedule this week, so he probably won't be able to call, and he probably has a million other people he needs to call, and by the end of the week he may not even remember who I am, so there goes all hope. And then my logical brain kicks in and points out all the complications that would be involved in dating him, that I just don't want to deal with, and I hope he won't call. But then I think how I just want someone to talk to for a little while, and man it would be nice to be kissed, and I really really really want him to call. But the job, and the complications, and the 48-hour rule, and this other girl that he was flirting with--what if he has a girlfriend? I don't know!!!--and what if he actually wanted to call me, but he was so tired after a day of shooting that he just tossed his pants in the laundry and my number was in the pocket and it got destroyed in the wash, and now he can never ever call even though he wanted to and what could have been a beautiful relationship has lost all chance of ever happening because the stupid director decided that everyone should pull a 20-hour day on Friday! AAAAAGHHHH!!!!
You see my problem. I need something to do.
Current mood:  dorky
7:55PM -
I SO hate getting kicked off right when I hit the update button. Hate it. With my whole soul. And every fiber of my being and drop of my blood. And while I'm ranting about how much I hate things, does it bother anyone else that the most recent entries show up at the top of the page, rather than the bottom? Things show up out of order! Part Two is above Part One! Grrrrr.....
Tuesday, August 13, 2002
6:58PM
The thing about the restaurant I work at is that it's in my home town. Now, my home town is a suburb of Los Angeles, so it's not like I'm in Podunk, Nebraska, population 27, but I still run the occasional risk of seeing people I went to high school with, who may or may not have done more with their lives in the intervening time than I have. The best part is that I have a much better memory for names and faces than most people.
So, this guy comes in at about 3:30 am a few weeks ago, who graduated about two years ahead of me. To protect his identity, we'll call him Joe-Bob. Anyway, Joe-Bob comes in, and doesn't recognize me at all, but even though we weren't really good friends in high school I decide it would be fun to make my identity known. So when I ask him for his order I call him by name. The look on his face was priceless. Yadda yadda yadda, one thing leads to another, and he asks me for my number because he's only in town for a short time (he lives on the East Coast now), and plans to be throwing a party before he goes and wants me to come. I give him my number. I think if we hadn't gone to the same high school, I wouldn't have been that dumb.
I don't hear from him for three weeks. It doesn't make me sad or anything, infact, I'm kind of relieved. I figure he's forgotten. But then, one night my phone starts ringing at one o'clock in the morning. One o'clock! I was awake, sure, but that is definitely a no-no according to Miss Manners. You don't call people that you barely know at one o'clock in the morning. You just don't.
But I was up, and I answered the phone. He told me the party had been cancelled, but he thought it would be rude not to call me at all, since he had asked me for my number. Fine. Whatever. We have the catch-up conversation, you know, what-have-you-been-doing-since-you-graduated, blah blah blah. Turns out he's in the military. Yippee. He makes sure to mention how many promotions he's had and how much money he's making. Good for him. He also boasts about the hotel he's staying at, on the corner of Hollywood Boulevard and Vermont Street. For those of you who are not native to L.A., this is like being excited about staying right on Times Square. Thrilling if you're a tourist, but the natives avoid the neighborhood at all costs unless they're getting paid to be there for some reason. It's a disgusting area.
So, now he's told me he's a Marine, and that he's a hick. Two strikes. But then, then comes the kicker. See, I'm rather devoutly Mormon, and my first year or so of high school, I was obnoxiously so. I mean, I'm embarrassed to admit to those years. But I still believe in the Church, and love it very much. And so, he remembers this, and he asks me, and I quote:
"So, uh, are you still all into the Mormon church and shit?"
! ! ! ! !
Apparently, diplomacy is not particularly valued by our nation's military.
I said, "Yeah! I am still all into the Mormon church and shit. I go to church every Sunday, and fast once a month, and don't drink or smoke or have sex. I like it a lot, thanks for asking."
The rest of the conversation was basically, "Oh....that's nice..." *click*
I hate boys. Let's kill them all.
Current mood:  infuriated
Friday, August 9, 2002
I understand that we all live in various places across the country (and possibly, the world), and many of you have probably never had the chance to be on a movie set. Heck, here in LA many people have never had the chance to be on a movie set. So I thought I'd see what I could do to give you a taste of what it's like to be an extra on the movie Hidalgo, an upcoming feature about a horse starring Viggo Mortenson. Ahem.
6:00 pm: I arrive on the set. It's way out in the middle of nowhere, by the beach, and took a while to get there. This is an enormous call, nearly 500 people, so there is a huge commotion. I park in the lot to which I am directed and go to check in.
6:05 pm: I get to the front of the line, tell the PA (production assistant) my name, and am handed a work voucher. This is proof that I actually worked on the set, so that they'll send m money. My voucher is very, very important. I am sent to wardrobe.
6:15 pm: There is a long line at wardrobe, hence the time dicrepancies, but I give the wardrobe people my voucher and am issued the dress I tried on at the fitting and go to change into it. There is a tent set up for all the women to change in (also one for the men and one for the children), and inside the women's tent is chaos. The movie is set in 1895, so all of us are being required to wear corsets, bustles, and petticoats, along with the period costumes, to help create an authentic look. A lot of the women don't know how to put their costume on, so there are a couple of wardrobe ladies running around trying to fix things. I've worn similar things in plays, so I'm all right. I put on my clothes and go to accessories. (There is a PA who pronounces it "assessories" and we all want to kill her.)
6:30 pm: I turn in an orange card the wardrobe lady gave me and get a purse, hat, and jewellery. They point me to the makeup line.
6:45 pm: The makeup line looks like the line to the Matterhorn at Disneyland. I'm not kidding. Usually they don't even do makeup on extras, but this is a period movie with a huge budget, so they can afford to make sure they do it for us so we don't mess it up. I wait in line for over half an hour, and when I get to the front there is a guy directing extras to makeup people (there are 25 makeup and 25 hair artists working on this shoot, and they all do a fantastic job), but he sends like eight people who are behing me in line in ahead of me. I feel like I'm at a nightclub and I'm not cool enough to get in. Finally, he sends me to a makeup artist.
7:20 pm: I get my makeup done. They tell me I have to go back in line and get a wig.
7:30 pm: I am at the end of the line. It sucks. Fortunately, with me are two adorable little girls and a really cute guy who helps me teach them the hand jive. Then someone comes and takes all the guys away, and I never see him again. Tragic.
8:10 pm: I get to a hair artist, she puts my wig and my hat on me. They are really ugly.
8:25 pm: I get on a shuttle van over to the set. I am one of the last people there. The set itself is fantastic; it's a replica of Wild Bill Cody's arena. There are huge stands for us to sit in and pretend we're the audience, and up towards the back they have a lot of seats filled in with cardboard people, which is sort of creepy. In the center of the arena are a bunch of white guys dressed as General Custer's troops, and a bunch of Indians riding bareback (I talked to an Indian later and he told me it's not fun). The whole thing looks amazing.
8:35 pm: We start shooting. The crew for this film is really on top of things; I don't think I've ever been to a shoot where they managed to start things so fast. Of course, that might also have something to do with the fact that I was one of the last people on set. We watch the Indians ride around the troops and they all shoot blanks at each other. This is where things get boring. We watch the Indians and the troops shoot at each other probably 50 or 60 times during the night, and it palls quickly.
12:00 Midnight: They release us for lunch. One of the perks of being an extra is that on a union job, they are required to feed you, and they feed you well. Along with the actual "meal," there are Craftservice tables off camera with red vines, cookies, peanut butter and jelly and bread, tootsie rolls, coffee, and other snacks. If you work in Craftservice, everyone is your friend.
1:00 am: We go back to set. More Indians riding in a circle.
1:20 am: Wow, that PA with the glasses is pretty cute. I think I'll have a crush on him. The night suddenly has new interest.
4:15 am: I get moved to the bleachers on the other side of the arena for a different shot, along with a lot of other people. This is one of the most exciting things to happen all night.
5:30 am: Someone spots daylight. There is much rejoicing.
5:45 am: They release the background (us). We stand in line to turn in our hair, to turn in our accessories, and to turn in our clothes, in that order. The sun is high in the sky by the time we leave.
7:30 am: I finally get off set. I have gotten my voucher and turned it back in, filled out. I drive an hour and a half home and hit the sack. Five hours later, I awaken and get back in the car--we've got another long night of shooting ahead.
And now you know.
Current mood:  tired
Friday, August 2, 2002
Okay, boys. Speaking as a waitress, I need to tell you something important:
Your phone number is not an acceptable substitute for a tip.
It's just not. I don't care how much I smiled at you, that's my job. And I don't care how cute you are, either, or how much money you have, unless you're leaving some of it on the table. I'm putting myself through college, here. And don't think I'm going to call you to ASK for it. Three dollars isn't worth quite that much to me yet.
That said, I am beginning to suspect something, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. The truth is, I don't get too many stupid phone numbers. On the contrary, I think I make better tips than most of my co-workers. And I think it's because I'm prettier. Not that that's saying much; most of our waitresses are over fifty and overweight into the bagain. We do have two other girls I would consider attractive, were that my cup of tea, but one of them is an intimidating six foot two, and the other is pregnant and gives a general impression of being not the sharpest crayon in the box. I don't think she actually IS stupid. But she gives that impression. And the truth is, I would descibe myself as very pretty six days out of the week, the seventh being Sunday, when I have just finished my seven-hour all-night Shift of Satan and can't bring myself to put on fresh makeup for church.
Anyway, my first hint last night (there were three hints last night--very Dickensian) was when I was talking to one of our older servers and saying something about how well our customers tip, and she looked at me like I was crazy. "Two dollars, constantly, no mater how nice you are," was her comment. I had gotten eight five dollar plus tips the night before, so I thought there must be something one of us was missing, but was willing to accept that maybe she was right, and I had just had a lucky night.
Second, one of the cops asked me out. I don't want to spend a whole lot of time on this. Cops eat at our restaurant, we give them food, they usually end up in my section. Last night one of them asked if he could get me some coffe some time, and I said no. I would also like to state that he seemed very nice and was indeed good-looking and I meant no insult, but among other reasons, I don't like the idea of spending time with someone based on the sole criterion of their physical appearance, which is about all he could have known about me at the point.
And then, right after that, a group of guys came in, and were not seated in my section. They told our manager that they didn't want their waitress (who is like, sixty-eight) to serve them, they wanted me. And they made a comment to me about how I should be considerate and not leave poor young guys to be waited on by ugly women like that. Bastards. I gave them as little service as I could get away with, and was ashamed to admit, when asked, that they had left me nearly twenty percent.
And I feel kind of guilty complaining about being good looking, but this, to me, is more evidence that I need to get some sort of successful career or something, and soon. Because the truth is, I am used to getting what I want, and I have learned to use whatever tools I have to get it. I hate to think that I might become too dependent on a pretty face, because it won't last. So I have maybe a decade to take over the world and make people do whatever I want because I have power.
MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
Current mood:  thoughtful
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