girl blue sees the light.: January 2011

Henry-“Okay Penny. 25 More”

Me-“25- What the hell?”

Henry-“You know talking doesn’t burn face calories. LET’S GO!”

Me-“15- Man this blows.”
Henry-”10 more. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

Me-“5, 4, 3,…

Henry-“Come on!"

Me-“2, 1”

Henry-“Okay rest.”

I fall back to rest.

Henry-“Get up, What did you learn from me? Cool down. Don’t lock your muscles up.”

I’m at the gym attempting to focus and get fit for my senior trip. Henry is my trainer. He likes me to call him HHHHenry. The “H” is silent, and stressed. He’s a dime. That’s what I paid for, anyway. But he bores me.. So I do stuff to make our training sessions more fun. Someone has to bring the excitement around here.

Henry is stretching my leg.

Me-“SO HHHeennnrrrryyyy!”

Henry-“What is going on, Penny?”

Me-“How many push ups can YOU do?”

Henry-“Infinity. Where is this leading to?”
Me-”Is ‘infinity’ more than the push-ups that that other trainer Mike can do?”
Henry-”Mike is a wuss. We went cross country running and half way up the mountain he had to stop for breath.”
Me-”Doesn’t he have asthma?”

Henry-“Pain is weakness, leaving the body.”

Me-“Whoa momma. How bout we see about that?”

Henry-“By, what ever do you mean?”
Me- ”Don’t play coy with me. $150 says you will FAIL versus Grid Iron Mike in a push up contest.”

Henry-“Are you friggen kidding me?”

Me-“Do I look like I am kidding? Or are you, as they say in French— poouuusssssaaaayyyyy.”

Henry gapes and freezes.

Henry-“Your French needs work. Luckily, I am not a guy,” he begins calmly, “who will back away from a challenge. You know what that sounds like a good idea. I don’t want to take your poor poor money though. Let’s make it priceless. If I do win, the next time you work out you are burning 1,000 calories.

Me-“What? In an hour?”
Henry-”Support your big mouth with some big action.”

Me-“Wow. You must think I’m made of pudge. And if I win, you have to come with me to In and Out Burger and eat …”
Henry-”Protein isn’t bad—Penny. It’s just too much salt and saturated fat that’s bad…”

Me-“Cut the fit encyclopedia, HHHenry. You have to….stand upside down and eat 1000 calories worth of Krispy Kremes, and between each one, you have to say, “Penny S. Cilpen is the greatest. The greatest, I said!”
Henry-”So you want me to throw up.”

Me-“Pain is weakness, leaving the body.”

Henry-“You must have gotten that from a very smart man.”
Me-”Exactly. GRID IRON MIIIIIIKKKKKKEEEEEEE! I have a proposition for you!”

Mike and Hhhenry are toe to toe. And it’s after trainer hours. They’re on the mats. The head trainer Jess is in on the action.

Jess—Ok, we’re going to count to three. Whoever does the most push ups in five minutes wins. No false starts, Henry.

Henry remains silent and focused.

Jess—1, 2, 3!

It’s a race to the finish! Henry seems paced, Mike seems like he’s rushing through it. By the time 4 minutes rolls around, Mike’s push ups are stuttering---starting, stopping, and starting again. Henry is cracking a smile.

“GO MIKE!”—I yell. “Woop WOOOOPP!”

5 minutes is up.

Jess-“And the winner is…..Henry! By a landslide!”

Henry gets up.

Henry-“See you next week. Don’t be late now, Penny.”

Me-“Crap, HHHenry!”

Henry-“I’m getting a telepathic message from you. Is it. Oh. Congratulations? Thank you, you’re sweet. 5 PM. Pacific time, that is.”

Dang.

♦

I walk out of the gym and get a text from Red Pepper.

“Fefe Dobson Listening session. 7 P.M. tomorrow (Monday). In Town. Can you make it?”

“Sure thing.”

The whole Halepeno Magazine thing is going swell, but I’m thinking I should expand my horizons, maybe pocket some returns out of my excellent writing. I’ve been thinking this for a while. Next opportunity I get I am seriously jumping on it.

I walked in to the apartment-turned, bar spot, called Lift, and I scan the area. This time they have Shirley temples and pigs in a blanket. This is a huge step up from fruit punch. To the left, Fefe is laughing with some of her rocker friends, talking about if Alien Ant Farm is next on the scene.

MH-“Sum 41 trumps Alien Ant Farm, because the only hit Alien Ant Farm has is their MJ cover. Sum 41 is just an all around better band,” says the guy with the Mohawk.

PK-“Yeah they have presence, and stuff, but Alien Ant Farm isn’t really trying as hard to fit in by not fitting in—being a punk,” says the girl with the pink hair. She’s wearing black.

MH-“But you know if Sum 41 covered an MJ song it would be gaga.”

PK- "Like what?"

MH-“ Like 'The Way You Make Me Feel.' Like mix up the tone a bit.”

PK-“Would any girl really appreciate Whibley screaming that in your ear? Like, is that endearing at all anyway?”
MH-”It’s the irony, man!”

PK-“We’ll see who’s career lasts longer.”

Publicist-“Ok let’s get this started. Will everyone please take a seat? Thanks for coming everyone. Fefe has worked really hard on this release, and with her first self-titled CD in the US and Canada, she wants to basically be the next sensation. So we’re trying something new, doing something different. Tell us how you like it. We now present to you, Fefe Dobson."

So I’m sitting next to this girl—she’s wearing red lipstick, she has purple red hair, and she’s wearing a brown romper and wedges. She looks cool. After the CD has run its course, I get to pick her brain.

Me-“So who do you work for?”
Kimmie -”I am the editor-in-chief of “Bee Magazine.”

Me-“That’s that cutting-edge magazine for female teenagers, right?”
Kimmie-”Yeah, so you’ve read it before?”

Me-“I am like the teen pop queen. I have read everything. So are you ever, say, in the search for any freelance writers?”

Kimmie-“Absolutely. Are you interested?”
Me-”Yeah. I’m actually looking for a magazine that compensates its writers.”
Kimmie-”Well, I think you’ve found a good match tonight. Let me get your e-mail address, and we can set something up.”

Wow. That easy? That doesn’t make any sense. I leave excited. EPICCCC!!!!! I’m friggen shaking in my tootsies.

The e-mail that I got from Kimmie was as follows.

“Hey Penny, It was very nice speaking with you the other night. We would love to have and feel you would be an asset to our team. You would be the only teen writer that is not a trendspotter or guest writer, and that is big. We are willing to offer you $50 per interview, and $50 for the shooting and editing of the video. Please discuss with our Managing Editor, Jackie, you’re availability times and dates. What do you think?”

So, this email, that I got, right? I mean, I’m excited and everything, but I want to really be sure about this payment that they are offering. I am not trying to get jipped. The conversation that I had with BB about money when I was writing for her magazine didn’t go so well.

BB- I just got your voicemail. I told you quite a few times that it was $150 I originally said I might be able to give you 175 but after budgeting it went down to $150 you kept saying $175 and I kept correcting you. Even Friday I mentioned $150.

Me- “Wow, that many times, huh. Funny, I didn’t hear it once. Tell me, if you say something, and it falls upon deaf ears, did you ever talk at all? Um, maybe you should have put it in writing. But you did! You originally wrote that you would pay me 175 dollars.”

BB-”Sorry for the discrepancy. I fought for you to get paid in the first place and I stated “may be able to pay you $175.” I thought we had a good business relationship but if we do business in the future I’ll be sure to put everything in writing. Good luck in your future writing endeavors.”

Me- “I do appreciate you fighting for me—although writers should be getting paid ANYWAY/ good business relationships are based on trust. Contracts are the foundation of business! Every writer getting paid should have a contract.”

There you have it.

So because I don’t want that to happen again, I am trying to work in contracts somewhere in this thing. Also, I don’t know how to edit video. I’m not sure if I should fake it till I make it or not. Me and Jackie set up Wednesday morning to talk about about what she expects from me and contracts, but after attempting 5 or 6 times via the phone and e-mail, all I got was her shooting an e-mail...

“Meeting-sorry.”

Even when I called her after that she wouldn’t answer.

I don’t even get the chance to think about it before I am sent another email the next day by Jackie. “Okay, so we have a last minute faux pas problem. We need someone to interview Pink tonight at 8. Everybody flaked out on us! Can you get out here for then?”

“Sounds good. Would my digital camera work good for filming? That’s all I have.”

“Unfortunately, nope. Pink is a girl who always says exactly how she feels. One look at your camera and she may just throw it in a cup of water. Any chance of finding someone with a lens?”

Oh shiz. No time to think. So I can’t really make a decision by myself. The first thing I do is call Jake. Jake is a videographer that I met through a friend. He goes to my high school. His dimples are so adorable that every time I see him, the first thing I do is stick my pointer finger in his dimple. He used to push my hand away but he couldn’t fight it. He knows he likes it.

Jake-“You need a what?”
Me-”I need your camera.”

Jake-“One more time and why.”

Me-“I need your cam…era.”
Jake-”Why, Penny. Why?”
Me-”Theres an interview with Pink tonight, and I need your camera.”

Jake-“Why can’t I come with you?”
Me-"Yeah, and not get paid for it, right?”
Jake-”Ohhh…oh. Those are the cards. Okay. I can’t lend you mine but I can try to see if I can get my dad’s. I’ll get back at you in 10.”

Then I call my mother.

M-“Yeah, you should do it.”
Me-”But I mean, I didn’t even discuss contracts with them yet”

M-“Even if it was for free you should do it. You have to do certain things to get your foot in the door, Penny, and then after you get your foot in the door, you can do what you want.”

Me-“Okayyyyy….”

M-“Just do it.”

Jake calls back.

Jake-“I can’t get the camera.”
Me-”Way to come through, buddy.”
Jake-”Sorry, my Dad’s camera is a Canon. He won’t let anyone touch it.”

Me-“Ok, Jake. I’m disappointed, but your dimples….you can still be my friend.”
Jake-”Wow, I really appreciate that, ha. Later.”

Click.

I emailed Jackie back,

"Hey Jackie,

So sorry about not being able to get a cam for tonight! I am going to have to decline. The interviewing, journalism, is my valuable asset, over the videography. For the future, will my digital camera be fine?

My apologies,

Penny"

I get an email back.

"Friday. 4 PM. Aaron Carter. Our office. Let us know!”

I call Gouda, one of my old friends who is now in college studying art and film. I'm going to need him to help me edit.

Gouda-“Holy s***, They’re paying you what?”
Me-”100 dollars.”

Gouda-“I wouldn’t piss in a godd*** cup for 100 dollars. Ask my doctor.”
Me-”You know what Sailor, cut the crap. There's only room for one wit wave on this phone line.”

Gouda-“Let me tell you something. Videographers don’t leave the house for less than 500. And they want you to get a real camera? Like, how the f*** are you supposed to pay for that?”

Me-“I am supposed to already have it.”
Gouda-”Yeah, have it on the f***ing welfare you live on as a teenager? Sh**”

Me-“We’re not on welfare, Gouda.”

Gouda-“You are actually doing them a huge favor, jack of all trades. You do realize this, right?”

Me-“2-for-1 isn’t exactly free, if that’s what you’re saying.”

Gouda-“Despite what they say to woo you, I think they’re simultaneously playing on you not having a lot of experience—and being a teenager. Funny, they probably mentioned how you’re the youngest person they ever worked with, blah blah…”

Me-“But really, though, am I just supposed to demand $500? Magazines don’t have it like that.”
Gouda-"Well, Penny, I love you, but you are going to have to start demanding what you are worth. What are you worth?"

♦

girl blue sees the light.

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