LA Stories: How the Known "Zombieland" Rules Apply to L.A. Internships

1) Cardio
Everyone here works out. Up the stairs, down the stairs, to the copier, to the Starbucks, out for the boss' lunch. If you're not running for it, you're slacking.
2) Beware of Bathrooms
As an unpaid intern, generally, bathroom breaks are frowned upon. But, if you absolutely can't hold it for 11 hours, go ahead- use the fancy shmancy bathroom- but beware: if ANYTHING goes wrong with the plumbing, you have to be the one to deal with it... or slink off and let the next guy deal.
3) Seatbelts
Uh-duh...
4) Double-Tap
Most of the time an intern is at the computer "doing coverage" is actually spent looking for jobs online. Didn't get the job you applied for? Surprise Surprise- but hit 'em up again later. Make sure that the guy that DID get the job stuck around.
8) Get a kick-ass partner
Then make sure they don't take a contract in Syracuse. Also, trust your fellow interns- they'll get your back and expect you to get theirs. On the other hand, there's the famous Gore Vidal quote: "Every time a friend succeeds, I die a little."
15) Know your way out
Keep that GPS handy. Everything you've ever heard about South Central is true.
17) Don't Be a Hero
When your boss at your unpaid internship is furious because "someone" (read: you) forgot to move his cereal bowls from the upstairs dishwasher back to the downstairs pantry and he demands to know who was in charge of dishes, plead ignorance. He may suspect you're covering for someone, but chances are he might not think it's you.
18) Limber Up
It's easy to lapse into a vegetative state while doing coverage in a dark cold basement for hours on end, or sitting like an Automaton at the reception desk, but you need to be ready to run at a moment's notice. If the downstairs copier magically springs to life, collate and book it upstairs, brads in place- or else. Also, 30 seconds on hold is years in Hollywood time. Run, run, RUN. See Rule #1.
21) Avoid Strip Clubs
They're really a last resort for employment.
23) God Bless Rednecks
Not a lot of these out here, but odds are if you're lucky enough to meet one, they won't treat you as bad as the LA douchebags do.
31) Check the backseat
Especially if your errands take you to any bad parts of LA. (read: any part not in Beverly Hills.)
32) Enjoy the Little Things
Free Cup 'o Noodles and pilfered snacks = free lunch and dinner.
Any errands = time to phone loved ones.
Reception Duty = face time with clients.
Boss in a Meeting = basement party

LA Stories: Zombie Attack

Jay and I were visiting our friend Jenn, who lives in Altadena. Altadena is just "alta" of Pasadena, and is very rural and moutainous and gorgeous. Pretty much everyone has land for horses and whatnot. During the day, numerous green parrots flit amongst the tree branches, and offer critiques on the pastoral tranquility below. Perfect breeding ground for The Undead.

Jenn lives in the guesthouse behind her landlord's house. To get to Jenn's cottage-type house, we had to park Jay's car on the gravel just off the country road she lives on, walk down her landlord's loooong driveway, and open a door to their courtyard. From there, we pass by their pool and could hang out with Jenn, which we did for about 10 minutes when we dropped her off one dark and zombie-infested night.

We quietly closed the door to Jenn's cottage, and tiptoed past the pool. As we did so, I could hear rustlings inside the main house. I suspected that the landlady was awake. As we tried to softly open and close the heavy wooden door leading from the courtyard to the driveway, we could hear the sound of the lock on the nearby door to the main house being turned.
Since we were being so quiet and respectful, I assumed that it was just the people inside the main house sensibly locking their doors, since they may have been aware that their renter had guests over.

We were half-way up the driveway when we heard Jay's car alarm make a soft staccato "bleep-bleep" noise, letting us know that it had been disturbed. I opened my mouth to make a comment to Jay when all of a sudden the courtyard door behind me flew open and we were rush-attacked by a Zombie!

It was Jenn's Landlady, in an old-fashioned long white long-sleeved nightgown JUST LIKE ZOMBIES WEAR, and she flew towards us in a rage, crab-leaping and scuttling, arms outstretched and hands in claw-grip form like a Danny Boyle "28 Days Later" Zombie! Omigod!!!

"CAN YOU!! DO!! SOMETHING!!! ABOUT THAT!!!" she screamed, presumably referring to the soft sheep-like bleating of Jay's car alarm.

I managed to stammer out, "uuhhh.. we were just leaving," to which she replied"
"RGHHHHAAAAHHHH!!!!" and crab-walked back inside to finish eating brains or whatever it is she does in her granny nightgown.

My heart was pounding a mile a minute as Jay and I hightailed it back to the car, where we burst out laughing in fear and survivor's hysteria.

We heard the courtyard door slam shut, and 1,000 sleeping parrots awoke and stirred in their branches.

We had just survived our first Zombie Attack in LA.