Beautiful and Dirty Rich

When I drive around LA, I insist on listening to Lady Gaga. I have a hard time listening to anything else. She is my driving music. Always. Nothing else does the trick. I've finally figured out why that is. Completely subconsciously, it helps me visualize the fantasy of leading a completely different kind of LA lifestyle. One of success and glamour. My 2010 Corolla handles like a sports car, so I can pretend I have the need for speed. I can pretend I'm on my way to somewhere that is both awesome and important. I'm successful and in-demand. I have places to go; people to see. I look and feel amazing, and this isn't the same outfit, purchased three years ago, that I wear to almost every gig. I definitely have more than two outfits suitable for work. I'm always on the run, but I own this town. Then I park my car, make my way to whatever studio lot I'm due at, and stand in line to wait for instruction for 8 dollars an hour. Hopefully, more than six hours will go by before they feed us so we can get an 8 dollar meal bump. I hope the wardrobe person doesn't get cranky with me again because my clothes are wrinkled and I don't have a proper garment bag.

But while I'm in the car, that all goes away. I'm Sara Lynch, and that sure as hell means something. (yeah, I'm your hooker)