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Home Is Where the Heart Is Pierced on a Stick and Being Licked by TK Like a Lollipop

By Seth Freilich | Miscellaneous | March 13, 2013 | Comments ()


trainspotting.jpg

As these things often do, it started so simply. There was an e-mail from grand poobah Dustin waiting in my gmail inbox with the subject line "A Grand Idea."

I like grand ideas.

We all like grand ideas.

Well Dustin's grand idea, inspired by Yahoo, was that Pajiba was implementing a new policy -- no longer would Pajiba's writers work in seclusion. No longer would they work in their book store nooks, their dungeons full of blood and terror, their local coffee shop public areas, their study rooms crawling with newborn children. Pajiba's writers would unite and work together, in the Pajiba Office.

This is where I should mention a little known fact about Pajiba, which is that my Santa Monica apartment is Pajiba's official physical place of being.

It was less than a minute after I read this e-mail that I heard a knock at my door. How this was timed so perfectly remains one of the mysteries in life I'll never figure out. As you've already surmised, I opened the door to see Dustin, toothy wide-grinned, a twin in each arm, a little blonde boy wrapped around his leg, standing before me. And spread out behind him, like a sacking army of mother f*ckers, were all of the writers, their laptops, children and smirks in tow.

"Oh dear Jesus," is what I would've thought, had I been afforded the time to have a think before the onslaught began. They came pouring through my door like a flood of locusts. Except locusts are a lot less pushy.

This was a week ago.

You know in Trainspotting after Renton has settled in to his tiny little London flat, only to find his new life invaded by Begbie and Sick Boy? Yeah, he had it f*cking easy, mate.

I woke up this morning, a pair of strange feet in my face. At first I thought they were Agent Bedhead's feet but then I heard the sounds of crying from the corner. Which means Bedhead has seen another sappy children's movie and can't help herself. So not her feet. Inhale. ...Smells of beets. Which means it's Steven Lloyd Wilson. All that time in Russia, he couldn't come back smelling like vodka? No. F*cking beets.

Oh, I should clarify that only Steven Lloyd Wilson-Prime smells of beets. Since he's been here, SLW has managed to build a Multiplicity-like cloning machine. So there are actually five SLWs in my apartment, four of whom spend the entire day discussing theology, mythology, global-political whats-its, and naughty British comedy. The fifth one is the SLWs' attempt at the Multiplicity clone-of-a-clone so, yes, he's the dumb one. ...A dumb, SLW, of course, is still ten times smarter than the rest of us. He's talking about going off to get his Ph.D in genetic engineering so he can figure out where he went "wrong." ...F*cking clones, man.

Anyway, I dash out of the bedroom, desperate to get the beet smell out of my nose. Escape to my balcony for some fresh air, I thinks. Think again, id-yote. For on my balcony this morning stood a woman literally screaming out bits of random entertainment news for all of Santa Monica to hear. It's become a popular local feature, it seems, and the Star Tours buses that thrice daily go down my street actually stop and let the tourists listen in. ...And no, I don't even know if it's Jody or Cindy, as I still haven't figured out which of them is which.

Retreating from the balcony, I had absolutely no idea what to do or where to go.

I certainly couldn't seek refuge in my office. TK's taken dominion over that place like it's Apocalypse Now by way of the smell of DC cartoons in the morning. He's got a dude chained up to my his office chair, who he occasionally pets but mostly beats. I think it's a former writer, either Phillip or Jeremy. ... I can't tell through all the blood and pus. (I hope it's Jeremy.)

And I can't even hide in the bathroom, which Genevieve and Joanna have taken over. In lieu of writing, they've discovered a fun new hobby, trolling Sunset at night for random actors and musicians, and then bringing those newly found pieces of man meat back to the flat, where they do dirty things to them, and then have TK dissolve the bodies in my tub. ...I'm never getting my security deposit back.

Meanwhile, Courtney's gone missing. She was here for the first couple of days, baking cookies. And then putting the TV on E! and hurling the cookies at the TV. But then, apparently inspired by Genevieve and Joanna's adventures, she took off to Hollywood and we haven't seen her since. I saw something on the news last night about a crazy woman at the corner of Hollywood and Highland, doing terrible bodily-fluid things to the Walk of Fame. Pretty sure that's our Courtney.

But back to this hell, remember Being John Malkovich when Malkovich enters his own headspace, leading to a world full of Malkovich's, pure Id and Ego and "Malkovich, Malkovich, Malkovich?" That's what it's like in my apartment right now, just Pajiba, Pajiba, Pajiba everywhere. I'm literally hunched over my laptop in a corner typing this, while Dustin is standing over me, shouting. "Why isn't this a list? Write a list! WHERE ARE THE ANIMATED GIFS?!?" Someone just vomited in the living room while apparently watching a sappy rom-com trailer. They didn't even have the courtesy to do it in what we've affectionately dubbed Nicholas Sparks Alley, the space behind the couch where everyone else has been leaving their hurl.

And oh my god I haven't even told you about the kids. Oh the f*cking kids. There are a pair of twins living in my walk-in closet, rolling around in all my button-down shirts and drooling wherever they damn well choose. Luckily, I don't really need the button-downs any more, as I've totally been fired from my day job. And, frankly, I can't really complain about the twins, given that TK's horrible offspring has taken over the refrigerator. Which is to say, he is literally living in the fridge, hurling homemade spears at anyone who dares to open the fridge and reach for milk. (Poor Sarah took a spear early on, and the TK spawn has since put her on ice. Literally. Don't go in the freezer.) How is a one-year-old capable of such territorial dominance? Did you not read that this is TK's offspring? He lets TK in for beer, but the rest of us are persona non grata. He even tries to yell that at us while hurling his homemade spears. "Perthon grat!" It would be downright adorable if, you know, there wasn't a sharpened projectile hurling at your head.

Perhaps the worst thing of all is that I ran out of all of my scotch, whiskey and bourbon about seven minutes after they showed up. Of course none of them have had the common decency to purchase more. And I'm too terrified of what will happen in my absence to leave the apartment. We're prohibition-dry here, people! Except for the beer that only TK can touch. "Perthon grat!"

This post isn't likely to stay up long. As soon as the Dictator sees that it went up, he'll surely delete it, replacing it with some business about who's been cast to replace that actor who was originally cast to play the Maxx in the live action remake of the MTV cartoon. But if you read this, if you can, please send help.


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Comments Are Welcome, Bigots and Trolls Are Not


  • BiblioGlow

    "So there are actually five SLWs..."
    Can I have one?
    For reasons. For grad school reasons.
    And other reasons.

    Also, eventually Gandalf is gonna show up at your door and ask you to join him on an adventure. It's only a matter of time, so you may wanna prepare your answer now. And also shine up and sharpen any enchanted elvish swords you might possess. Maybe take inventory of your jewelry. Just saying.

  • Buck Forty

    This show could probably run for a whole season, as long as we all agree the producers can pull a few tricks to make this reality show more real. But for $25k each an episode y'all cool with that, right?
    I propose a 'Pajiba Nights' ep for sweeps in which everyone dresses up 90s, takes MDMA, dances in the kitchen to house music*, and by then everyone is loved up and fcking. Yes, fcking. We can do that now, it's cable. We're gonna break new ground with this show.
    (yes, it's a The Big Chill reference, we're gonna have a different movie reference in every show, a knowing wink to our audience and critics who know reality shows aren't real)

  • Uriah_Creep

    I suppose we could send Guy Pearce in, Lockout-style. Do you know where he could find the Murdertank?

  • e jerry powell

    Oh, my.

    Let's get meta with this.

    ...until the sun comes up over Santa Monica Boulevard...

  • brite59

    As expected.

  • David Sorenson

    So I'm the first person to think of this when they read the article? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v...

  • Anabelle Porras

    THANK YOU!!! On a day like this (it's all about the Pope), this is what I needed.

  • Mrs. Julien

    Suddenly, my begreyed cubicle doesn't seem so bad.

  • Jerce

    "Please send help"? Haha, no way. You just keep writing.

  • tamatha_uhmelmahaye

    Seth - Jodi is the redhead and Cindy is the one with curly hair. Cindy is also the one who probably is currently doing yoga.

  • Pinky McLadybits

    The screaming is pretty spot on, though. It's probably me he saw this morning. Cindy takes the weekend yelling shift.

  • stardust

    Jodi is also the one making fart jokes.

  • Genevieve Burgess

    Episode 1 of "Pajiba House" will go up on YouTube as soon as I figure out where my phone went.

  • Maguita NYC

    I really want to work at your place! Always thought the Pajiba writers never met each other, and communicated via email and Skype. They all worked from their own bathrooms, laundry rooms and artistically dilapidated cheap-chic meat-market apartments.

    The imagery of Enlow throwing half-baked cookies at the sight of mini-Seacrest is forever crocheted on my mind. Can we make a mockumentary out of this? Please? And review for April Fools' Day.

  • The Pajiba writing staff has been banned from Skype since we accidentally video conferenced a first grade classroom into the pantless Friday staff meeting.

  • Maguita NYC

    Depends on the time of day and location. Around poop-time, right after lunch time and before forced-siesta time, a lot of first graders go around pantless. So no harm, no foul. Honestly, your Pajiba overlord is aiming too absurdly for high morality and is quite intolerant of any-sort of real or perceived impropriety.

  • Sara_Tonin00

    Do you know how first grade works?

  • Maguita NYC

    What are you trying to say... That they've cut poop-time from 1st grade???

    Damn you budget cuts!

  • Sara_Tonin00

    No, I'm saying any teacher who allowed pantsless time in first grade would get fired pretty quickly. I'm not even sure first grade has nap time now.

  • Maguita NYC

    Dude, I'm from the generation where it was no big deal for a 5 year old to walk around in his/her undies for a few minutes. We also sunbathed topless until the age of 10, or even a tad older (depending on the boobage growth).

    Of course back then, it wasn't considered topless. It was simply considered sunbathing. Period. Has America changed so much in the past decade that children are taught to be ashamed of their bodies to that extent?

  • Sara_Tonin00

    If you substitute "pre-K" for "first grade" you might be ok. But first grade is not so free form. And pantslessness in the home is a different matter.

    But at school, in public? it's not about the children's sense of shame. It's about adults.

  • Maguita NYC

    We did not go out in public in our underwear!

    It was more when teachers were overwhelmed with bathroom time, and some kid had an accident, went around in their undies for a few minutes until one teacher could give them a change of clothing.

    Yes, at 5 years old accidents still happened. Especially when laughing too hard. But never in bed though!

  • TK

    Those motherfuckers. SO unreasonable.

  • ZombieNurse

    We're pretty much going to have to seal the place shut [REC] style, aren't we?

    I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry.

  • DataAngel

    This has been "Trainspotting" week on Pajiba. Good job, y'all. Good job. Please keep the McGregor and Miller coming. Although if you expanded a little more into "Shallow Grave" territory, I'd appreciate it. I need more Christopher Eccleston in my life.

  • Pinky McLadybits

    YOU SPELLED MY NAME WRONG. I'm glad I left an Upper Decker in the bathroom. GLAD.

  • BobbFrapples

    If he's there, then who's guarding TK's basement?!

  • Pinky McLadybits

    Zombie Arthur. That's TK's favorite and most trusted zombie. Been with him from the beginning, Arthur has...

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