Rachel Stivers stepped out onto the sidewalk fresh faced, bushy tailed, and carrying shiny gold dreams of stardom in her heart. She was here, she was in Hollywood. Well she was in west LA and that’s pretty close. Close enough. No really, Hollywood smells so you wouldn’t want to live there.
She had made it to the big time, well the medium time. She was a third assistant! YES. Everybody knew her name….at starbucks. People stopped and stared….when she walked into fancy stores to make expensive purchases on a company card. Doors opened for her…automatically on her many runs to drugstore. It was like living a dream. But like many dreams, this one turned into a NIGHTMARE.
Sometimes, for hours at a time, it would seem like Rachel was trapped in a box with wheels. She was surrounded by other boxes but none of them were moving. It was an endless river of people sitting in boxes being baked in the coastal sun. Once it took Rachel three and a half hours to get across town in her rolling box. Seriously, what the heck.
And then her dream ended, and once again she slaves wearily at the looms in the philosophy factory.

HIGHLIGHTS:

Car air conditioner, cats under the blanket, carpool lanes, money found in pockets during laundry, her friends and family, new carpet in apartment, Stephen Colbert.