.

My lil you tube video

2009-01-21T17:41:00.000-08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nrFZyVhvm2c

Enjoy- PS I would set up the video on the blog but I don't have a second to do it. Screw it, just watch the clip already.

A quick Update

2009-01-21T17:27:00.000-08:00

Man, life is crazy... but you've heard that before.

I'm very sorry I never kept this blog up, I've just been way too busy and haven't had the chance to write like a I used to. This new job keeps me off the interwebs, I'm always working. Plus when I get home, I'm always doing some sheeeet.... sigh.

Well, for anyone who cares here's what's happened lately-

-I GOT ENGAGED! Yep, I'm going down the long path to marriage with the lady I love. Good times.
-My volleyball screenplay is finally finished and being sent out to the directors to get their name attached. Say a prayer that everything goes well.
-I shot two shorts- one for festivals, one for shits and grins. The shits and grins one I will post above this blog entry...
-I've been working out and I'm getting stronger...
-My parents moved to Cali so I've been hanging out with them.

That's a quick update... I've gotta run again but much love to anyone who still looks at this blog.

Justin

UPDATE

2008-11-05T10:07:00.000-08:00

I haven't blogged in a while, I've been very busy and stuff. I need to get back into the swing of things. Here's a general update...

OBAMA WON! Thank the Lord Above!

LA life is really good. My girlfriend and I are doing really well. My dog is super cute. That's going pretty well.

I also started working out again, man this getting old shit is for the birds.

Started a new job this month in Visual Effects at Warner Bros. It's pretty good so far, I like the people and I am learning a ton about special effects and how to use them in my own movies. The problem is I spend most of the day pushing papers, making fucking copies and generally finding ways to avoid poking my eyes out with my Pentel Energel pen due to my extreme boredom.

On other fronts-

I'm still working on a script for a big wig producer (for no fucking pay!!!) but if it goes well, I will have more cash than I have ever had... well until I blow it to pay off my government-bailout-sized student loan. SIGH.

I'm also working on a short film that I really like, I'll be directing and I wrote it. It's a very cool idea that people seem to like. My girlfriend read it and cried, it's that good. Not bad for a two page script from a hack like me.

I'm also hoping that everything works out on this other documentary/corporate film thing that I am working on, if it does I'd also have a ton of cash and get a shit ton of film gear to keep at the end of the shoot! It would be so nice, I can shoot my own film with this equipment and start my own production company, I just hope it works out.

But alas, with all of these things, they are almost out of my hands. You try your best and hope that shit doesn't blow up.

I hope to have more than one post a month, I need to find more TIME! Please give me more TIME!

I might have a new job... maybe

2008-09-23T11:02:00.000-07:00

Monday morning I came into work and got a phone call. It was Patt, my champion, my job pimp. She had a new lead for an assistant in visual effects, her department. She asked if I wanted to take a stab at it. I said sure.

Two hours, a couple of calls and interviews later, I have the job... I think. I say I think because Patt always jumps the gun on things, trying to push people around to get her way. Which is good and bad, good that she really wants me to have the job, bad if it pisses everyone off and I don't get it.

Do I want the job? Sure. That doesn't sound very convincing right? Well, I really want to be writer/director, but that's not jumping out at this time as an option (although my script is doing well with Bonnie ). My second choice would be to be an assistant to a director or producer so that I can learn more about their jobs. But I love VFX and I'd love to learn more about the process of making visual effects happen. Maybe I can turn it into a career, maybe not. I'm not sure but it beats not having a job right?

I actually have a job offer on the table to be an assistant to a producer but he's not working right now so that means he can't hire me until he gets on a picture. That's the problem with being a producer's assistant, if they're not working, you're not working. At least at the WB VFX, I have a job that's guaranteed. Plus health insurance and benefits etc.

But who knows, maybe I won't get it after all and I won't have to worry about making a choice. Or maybe Bonnie will buy my script, making all of this null. Or maybe I'll be homeless. Only time will tell.

Rock Band 2

2008-09-15T17:38:00.001-07:00

What a great way to waste time and money then to sit around your house playing fake plastic instruments to songs that you don't even like? Right?

Well, I can't help it, I've gotta get my Rock Band 2 fix. It's like crack, but more expensive and better for your health. (unless you're smoking crack and playing Rock Band, then you're fucked.)

I got Rock Band 2 on Sunday and it pretty much ruined any shot I had at doing any work. I tried to cancel a meeting, but the damn guy wouldn't cancel. Don't you know that Rock Band is more important than my career?

The game itself is pretty much the same damn thing as the last one, just more songs. That's all I get for 60 bucks I guess, but I can't complain, it's fun as shit and it's much more fun than cleaning my apartment or writing a script.

Now if I could just take all that time sitting around playing plastic instruments and learned to actually play my guitar... wait, why would I do that?

Crazy Times call for Crazy Measures

2008-09-05T14:07:00.000-07:00

Man, what a crazy couple of months it has been. Up and down, sideways, all directions. Let's run down a list of recent developments, shall we...

-My script about girl's volleyball is going well... sort of well. I'm starting the third draft with the producers very excited about its prospects. They want to move this thing right away, and I'm still working on it. SIGH. It would help if they didn't give me such vague instructions on what they want to change on it. Telling me to add more magic doesn't work. What kind of magic? Like pulling rabbits out of hats? Sawing a girl in half? Call Chris Angel assholes, I'm no magician.

-My parents are moving to the OC, so they will be semi local. I'm sort of excited, sort of not. I won't be able to go home on vacation to get away from LA. Now, I will going to the OC to stay in a foreign home that I never lived in. Plus, I can't lose my parents season tickets for the Suns, that was supposed to be my inhertience!

-I am loosely involved in producing this bull riding reality TV show that I have no interest in doing. I just got an email today that someone is interested in it... but I'm not. Now I have to do all sorts of work on it, even though I couldn't give a fuck less about it. DOUBLE SIGH.

-As I get more busy doing this crap, I have seen my friends less and less. It's sad. Plus, a bunch of people that were my friends are now either a)mad at me and don't like me anymore b)too busy also c)moving away. TRIPLE SIGH.

-Good things are happening with my lady friend though. We've been going very strong and things are great!

-My dog is still super cute.

I guess that's it for now. I know I promised to write more this week... maybe next week?

I wish I was a dog

2008-09-02T16:07:00.001-07:00

My dog Parker is the best. Sure, she pees in the house, doesn’t listen to all commands and has a serious problem digging in the trash can- but who doesn’t right?

I often watch her chasing cats, flies, tennis balls, anything really; and I get jealous. Man, it must be really nice to have no responsibilities. Her only care in the world is if she gets fed and walked daily, and that’s not her responsibility, it’s mine.

What I wouldn’t give to be a dog!

Man, what a world

2008-08-28T17:06:00.000-07:00

I've been pretty f'ing busy. Sorry I haven't posted, I guess I've put too much time into work and other bullshit instead of writing this blog. Man I suck.

I promise that next week, I will update at least three times. (kind of like how I need to work out three times).

Thanks for being cool.

J

Music that I like today

2008-07-23T16:01:00.000-07:00

Man, what do you write blogs about if you've got absolutely nothing going on in your life besides writing a shitty PG script for a bunch of assholes, sitting in an empty office for 12 hours a day, thinking about how you are getting old, never trying anything new and preparing to spend the rest of your life in a never ending loop of bullshit?

I guess you write about music.

Yes music, the only thing that I have going on in my poor excuse of a life. Unless I write about sleeping, which is kind of a personal experience that doesn't translate well to blog land.

Here's some music I recently bought or have been listening to for the last year that I thought you might like. Yes you, the guy reading this stupid blog. Keep in mind, some of this shit may have come out a year or two ago, but I'm just getting on it, so back off!

PANDA BEAR- PERSON PITCH

This album is like the Beach Boys meet noise rock. Fucking unreal stuff, you could listen to it while driving on the PCH, or while smoking PCP. A very happy sound but full of dread and sadness. Panda Bear is a member of the next band... or collective....

ANIMAL COLLECTIVE- STRAWBERRY JAM

Samples and noise cut in and out, sounds used like drums, punchy and repetitive but not annoying. Songs have a sense of happiness and sadness at the same time. I haven't had enough time to really examine the lyrics but there is something going on here for sure. Music that has no explanation, but there is none needed.

BATTLES- MIRRORED

The most out there partly instrumental robot rock I've heard in a long time. This shit sounds like what music should have sounded like in 2015 Hilldale Valley 'Back to the Future II' style. A ton of stuff is going on here, where guitars and synths play with crazy samples of voices and other noise. If you had an extra dollar on your itunes account, buy Leyendecker. This song is like taking the drums of a NIN song, the vocal sample of a Rihanninaianana (or however you spell her name) and the effected out synths of our next band and throwing them all together. Which brings us to...

MGMT- ORACULAR SPECTACULAR

The next wave of dance music that the public is already eating up like many boxes of Crispy Cremes. It there is a sound track of this summer, this should be it. Disco, techno and smoothness jumps out at you. Electric Feel is getting a ton of radio play. Kids should also...

HEALTH- HEALTH

Local LA guys do good on this album, again without definition. Some songs sound like Radiohead's best electric stuff, other songs buzz like Liars on their tribaliness, others just try to shred your face off, with mixed results. Worthy of a listen.

DEERHUNTER/ ATLAS SOUND- VARIOUS ALBUMS

I just got into this Bradford Cox guy, who has the beat up puppy dog voice I love. Their songs are beautiful, sad, full of noise and rage, but with a broken heart underneath. Great for when you have to sit in an office for 12 hours straight with nothing to do but plot the end of the world.

VAMPIRE WEEKEND-

I know everyone is on this guys dicks and that they might be pretentious Ivy League dicks, but the rhythm in Mansford Roof is sick. It just is.

SUNSET RUBDOWN-

Another side project band, this time from the guy Wolf Parade. Pretty awesome stuff, and I' love the name of the band. Plus, this Wolf Parade guy's voice reminds me of the Talking Heads, always a good time.

NO AGE- WEIRDO RIPPERS AND THE NEW ALBUM THAT I HAVEN'T BOUGHT CAUSE I'M DUMB

I saw these guys open for the Liars and I was instantly hooked. The power of punk, the noise of some never ending feedback machine. At that show, I was the oldest person by ten years I think. Man, it sucks being old. But these guys can just flat out play and throw the book of conventional song structure out the window. Check it!

Well, that's enough for now. I could get into the new hip hop I've heard, but that would start an entirely new blog. Maybe that's what I'll write about all the time! Music makes the world go round and makes this sad office and shitty PG script seem ok. Well, that's a lie but whatevs... sad panda.

Wonderful World of Thoughts

2008-07-15T12:20:00.000-07:00

I turned in my first draft of my new script to the producers yesterday. Now, I have to wait until Thursday of next week to get notes back, 10 days.

Talk about suspense. Imagine working every day for 8 to 14 hours a day for three straight weeks to get something done for someone and then having to wait a week and three days to get feedback on your work.

So, now as I wait for the feedback, I’m in a holding pattern until I hear something from them. SIGH. What do I do in the mean time? I can’t just sit idle. That’s not in my nature.

I’m going to try to bang out some other writing, mainly finish up this other script. It’s going to take a little bit of work though, since when I started to read it today, I realized it sucks.

What else is new? Hmmmmm... let’s break it down....

-My car registration is up. It costs 200 hundred bucks to get your car on the up and up. Why exactly? What does that 200 smacks buy me? I don’t think anyone knows.

-I’ve been playing with Legos a lot lately. Yep, legos, the little toy building blocks. Its more fun than you can imagine, which I imagine that you imagine that they’re not much fun. I’m building my dream house out of legos, since I can’t afford to build it in real life. Crap, I can barely afford to build it in Lego Life.

-My dog has epilepsy, a bad ear infection, and a staff infection on top of the world’s worst doggie allergies. Ouch. Man, its fucking expensive to have a dog.

-I also purchased Rock Band a while back. As I have mentioned on this blog before, Rock Band is the shit. I highly recommend it, at least until the guitar hero band thingy comes out.

-With a shitty economy, rising gas prices, a credit crunch and bank failing; I was thinking maybe it would be great if we just wiped the world clean of money. Everyone starts out with a clean slate and we can begin a new world economy where all money from every country is worth the same. It would be like movies that happen in the future where everyone uses ‘space credits’ or some bullshit. Everyone keeps whatever they have, if you have a house that is still on a loan, you get the rest of your loan for FREE!

Then I don’t have to pay back my student loans and credit cards. Great!

-I wonder, what does it take to make solar energy panels? Is there some sort of material in there that make them so very rare? If we have such a global warming and energy problem, why don’t we kill the energy problem with the global warming problem? Is that so hard? Damn, I’m smart.

-Why don’t they have rice crispy treat ice cream? I invented it the other day, and I’m pissed that I don’t work for Ben and Jerry’s, cause I’d make a fortune.

-I went to the Build a Bear workshop the other day (don’t ask) and they have these bears that you equip with these things that will say random phrases. Why don’t they equip a bear with the phrases in magic 8 ball? Yes, no, ask again later etc... you’d have a magic 8 ball bear! I really think I’m in the wrong line of business.

-I was at Disneyland the other day and waiting in long ass lines for rides. I noticed that they have all these people waiting to get off the ride, sitting in cars that are lined up outside the entrance. Why not have people get off the ride there, instead of the entrance? That would save 30 seconds to a minute of load in/out time for every car, making lines shorter. Man, what the hell, why am I full of so many good ideas?

- Saw Dark Knight last week. If you haven’t seen it, (which you all haven’t cause it isn’t out yet, hahahahaha) see that bitch. Best movie I’ve seen in years, for real.

- I read The Inglorious Bastards script the other day. Man, the Q Tarritino guy is good.

Anyway, enough chatting about bullshit, I have a bad script to write!

Random Notes from the man himself

2008-06-25T09:27:00.000-07:00

Here's some thoughts I've had this week-

-Big up to all my people who came through for my birthday! It was a great time. My wonderful girlfriend set up this big surprise party at the bowling alley and tons of people flew in, drove etc from other spots in the world to be part of the event. Its strange, I don't feel that much older but I'm on the other side of the 30 mark now. It actually feels good. I'm ready for the new changes and challenges that being older brings.

-I've started work on my first 'real' script gig. Its a girls volleyball movie, not exactly my natural forte but I've got a good grip on it and a new way of telling the same old sports movie. It should be a fun romp and if it ever makes it to the screen, I hope I'm there for the casting of tons of hot 18 year old girls. Good times.

-My boy is having trouble with his terrible, slacker, free loading roommate. This roommate doesn't have a job, refuses to help on bills and is making my boy go thousands of dollars in debt. But if my boy kicks his roommate out, that roommate will be homeless since he has no family, friends or money. Sucky times.

-The NBA draft is tomorrow and I'm pumped. Holy crap, if the Suns don't do something to make this terrible team better, I'm going to kill someone. That someone is Steve Kerr and the Suns owner Robert Sarver. (can you get arrested for an ideal threat on a blog?)

That's all for now, got to get to work on this script!

Balls or the worst parts of being a man

2008-06-17T10:22:00.000-07:00

Women have complained for years about all the terrible things associated with being a female- birthing, menstruation, bras, menopause, high heels and having to watch Sex and the City and pretending that its not pretentious mindless garbage.

Well, men don’t have it easy either ladies. We have balls. BALLS. They’re useless, besides holding semen, teabagging and the sound they make when you’re having sex. They get twisted, sweaty, itchy, and they look like some sort of diseased growth of leprosy.

Have you ever sat on your balls? It fucking hurts right? If you wear boxers, you might just plop down on your boys at the Dodgers game if you’re not ready for the way the seats fly upward like a jet fighter. Then it’s pain time. And girls have no concept of that pain. Take that titty twister I just gave you and multiply that by 65.

And Blue balls! Don’t get me started on blue balls. Imagine that you’ve ate nothing for a week, your stomach is eating itself cause your so damn hungry, you sit down in front of a buffet of the best Mexican food and just as you’re about to eat... BANG! Someone hits you in the stomach will the mallet twenty times and pulls you into another room, away from the food until the next time the food gets horny... wait I think I mixed my metaphors... ah well.

Its not just the balls ladies, guys have other things to worry about. Let me run them down for ya.

Women. I think this one is pretty self explanatory. I would get into the particulars but my girlfriend will get brought up and then I might have to find a new roommate again for the fourth time this week. If you don’t understand, you’ve a) never dated a woman before b) never had a mother c) grew up in a bizarro land of the All Men.

Man Period. Women complain about their periods. I understand and empathize. Not sympathize, empathize because men also have periods. Granted, we don’t have to wear tampons but we also have them. Everyone goes through a period of low of hormones that cause them to have some pissy mood swings. So there ladies!

Chivalry. I don’t mind opening doors and pulling out chairs for women but having to pay for everything sucks. My bank account is a living sign of this problem.

Hair. Having hair everywhere blows and it makes it about 20 degrees hotter. You ladies try wearing a fur body suit during the summer.

Sports. Yeah ladies you think that we love sports. We all do... generally. But God forbid you’re like my old roommate who didn’t like sports that much. Anytime he met a dude, the conversation would turn towards sports and he had to pretend he knew what he was talking about. Sports knowledge and upkeep is a fulltime job and if you slack and even take a week off, you run the risk of being considered an outsider.

So you ladies don’t have it that tough. Trust me, a representative of guys everywhere.

Staring down the barrel of 30

2008-06-16T10:38:00.000-07:00

Tired bored kitty cat... just like me. Except I'm not a cat.

Hello gang! So I missed a bunch of entries last week but I had the worst flu/cold/shitmypants disease. Man, it sucked. I was completely out of it. I slept for 4 straight days and didn’t do anything but cough up brown and green boogers and polish off a bottle of Nyquil. Bad times.

It’s a sign that I’m dying slowly. Okay maybe not dying but I’m certainly fucking older.

Man, where does the time go? It feels like just yesterday I was celebrating my 21st birthday, getting drunk and pulling tubes with the boys and now I’m 5 days away from my 30th birthday and I’ll I want to do is sleep. Sleep for days. Sleep for weeks. Sleep for... well you get the point.

You ever have that not so fresh feeling? I do.

Its like that song by Sublime, “Burritos”... ‘I don’t wanna go and party, I don’t wanna shoot the pier, I don't wanna take the doggie for a walk, I don't wanna look at naked chicks and drink beer...’ In fact, I have no idea what I want to do. Right now, nothing sounds exciting.

This weekend after I got over my sickness, I needed to get out of the house and do something. But what? I racked my brain and tried to figure it out. Nothing came to mind.

Where’s my passion? I have no idea. I used to be so gung ho about making it Hollywood and being the next big thing but now, it even that doesn’t seem very important to me at all. I have a big phone call with a mucky muck producer today to possibly get my very first writing assignment for money and you know what? I don’t care. At all.

Its not that I don’t care, I guess I’ve just reserved to the fact that if it works out it does, if not, well screw it I’ll work at McDonald’s.

And its not like I’m depressed. I’m actually quite happy considering everything. But I’m just blah. Maybe I need something that sounds exciting. Can you think of anything for a slowly dying 30 year old to do that would give me a boost of fun? Anything that’s legal of course... and doesn’t involve a lot of money.

wow, where has the time gone?

2008-06-09T15:37:00.000-07:00

Blog update

So, I’ve been a terrible person and haven’t updated this thing in a long time. I guess people are reading since some of you have called and complained. Wow, you really care about my rambling bullshit? Thanks!

Where have I been this whole time? Well, I worked on this other gig for a while, as assistant to the director of Cats and Dogs 2. It was a ton of work and not a bad experience overall, but if you would have asked me during it I would have told you it sucked balls.

I finished up and went back to my office job here at the WB. Good times. Now, I only have a couple more months at this gig before I have to find yet another job. Welcome to the wonderful world of Hollywood, where people search for jobs like Barry Bonds searches for ... well... a job on a baseball team.

All my extra free time has been spent writing a script for these producers. Who knows what will happen with it... its taking me a while to complete and now they want me to put it on the back burner and write a slasher film... sigh. I don’t know what’s going to happen but if the slasher flick is going to get me a little closer to a full time writing career, I’ll do it.

So, today I am writing this slasher synopsis. Yawn.

What else is going on? Well, I’m that much closer to my 30th birthday, hooray. I’ve got my normal life with the girlfriend and the dog and the apartment and the blah blah blah... who cares right?

The important part you walk away from this thing is that I’m a slacker for not updating my blog and that there will be more coming. I promise. And they will be a lot more entertaining than this one I swear.

April Fool's Day

2008-04-01T10:57:00.000-07:00

When I was in college, April Fool’s was my favorite day of the year. My roommate Vogel and I would play practical jokes on every single person we knew, including each other. I could write an entire book about the evil jokes we played on people... shit that might be a good idea! Ah the good ol’ days.

There is one completely evil joke that sticks out in my mind.

I told my ex that I would get her really good on April Fool’s, she told me there was no way, she could see through any attempt made. We made a bet on it then and there. I was determined to win.

April Fool’s rolled around and I played my cards right. My ex knew that it was coming, so she was on guard. Everything I said and did, she was on it like a hawk. But I was biding my time, I knew if I waited long enough, went to school, came back, she would forget.

So when I saw her later that day, I was prepared. She came up to front door on that rainy night to discover a note, sitting at the edge of my apartment door.

She walked in and handed the note to me, I opened it, read it over quickly and put it in a drawer.

The key to a good practical joke is to know some one’s weakness and exploit. My ex’s weakness was two fold; curiosity and jealousy.

She asked me who wrote the note, I told her my other ex, the girl I dated last before dating her. She asked me what it said, I told her simply, “Nothing.”

BANG! The look on her face was unbelievable. She was torn because she told me just two weeks earlier that she was sick of being jealous all the time and she was going to try to push those feelings out of her head and not bring them up.

But at the same time, here was this note, in the rain, and she didn’t know what it said. And it was from that bitch I used to date!

I went outside, pretending to check out my buddy Kyle’s new Jeep. Really, I was just letting her stew.

As we laughed outside, I pictured her opening the drawer and reading the note. Would she do it? Would curiosity kill the cat?

I walked back in and there was my ex, standing by the front door with her arm on her side, waiting not very patiently for me to get back. She said that she wanted to read the note. I told her that I would let her if she didn’t get mad.

I gave her the note and ran into my bedroom.

The note from my ex ex, which was written by me of course, slowly revealed more information as you read it, finally culminating with a big reveal of our illicit affair, the torrid things I did to her, and how much she loved me.

I heard a rustle outside my door, she stormed in the room right at me, ready to punch me in the face.

I pulled up my shirt, showing her the words “Happy April Fool’s Day” which Vogel wrote on my stomach for me earlier.

She looked at the words, stunned. Then she starting crying. A lot.

I felt so bad. So very bad. But I won! I beat her! Woooooo Hooooo!

What did I win? I don’t remember exactly. Was it worth it to put her through the emotional rollercoaster? It wasn’t at the time but after she broke my heart years later, it now feels pretty good.

Other People’s Scripts

2008-03-25T10:25:00.000-07:00

I some how always end up getting conned into reading other people’s scripts for them.

It starts out with me saying I’d love to read their script, which I usually mean at the time. I like to see how the others live, see how others write, and see if there is anything that surprises me or that I can learn from.

It usually ends with me cursing, rubbing my eyes and wanting to blow up their scripts with a nuclear device.

I’m reading one script for a friend right now and I can’t get through it. Its supposed to be a comedy, only there are no funny. Its one super long cliché, a take on the awesome movie “Road Hogs” (I say that in jest) but if instead of being old men, they’re lame 30 year old frat guys.

Let me tell you, it reads as good as that description is.

The problem is, the kid who had me read it is super excited about it. He told me it’s super funny and gross, which it’s not either of those things.

Now I haven’t finished it but I will have to sooner or later. Then I will have to tell him about it. That’s where things get difficult.

I’m brutally honest. I would want others to be honest with me, I wouldn’t expect anything less. But most people don’t want the truth, they want people to suck their collective dicks for being so awesome. (I could go into Col. Jessup’s line about truth from A Few Good Men, or Winston Wolf’s line about sucking each others dicks from Pulp Fiction but I digress)

When they get the truth, the results vary. Some pout. Others defend their work like I would defend my basketball skills. Some just plain cry.

One time, I told me friend her new script was a disappointment. It was. Her other script I read was the best ‘non professional’ script I had ever read. This new one, it just wasn’t that good. This lead to an angry exchange between us and her leaving in tears.

The problem was that she was writing her ‘baby’. Whenever you have a ‘baby’ script, it usually means it’s a thinly veiled attempt at an autobiographical film, with names changed to protect the innocent. When you write this type of thing, its usually long winded and boring, with a very thin plot. That’s just the way it is, our lives aren’t interesting enough to write about unless you’re Ray Charles or Howard Hughes.

She couldn’t understand that fact.

Hell, I’ve read a ton of scripts like this. The worst one was a friend who wrote about her years in an abusive relationship. It was a painful thing to read, it was like being in the relationship.

If it was made into a movie, it would feel like the last 10 minutes of “Requiem for a Dream” only stretched out to about two and a half hours.

Ouch.

I here by offer my unrequested advice about writing a screenplay-

1-Don’t write about your own life. Its going to be boring, trust me. Plus, you’re going to get really hurt when people say they don’t like it, because you’ll take it that people must not like your life. Which they don’t, so suck it.

2-Don’t write anything longer than 120 pages. For people who don’t know, a page on script equals a minute of screen time on average. Therefore, 120 pages equals a two hour movie. Right now, most Hollywood movies clock in at 95 minutes. If you’re writing a 120 minute movie, you’re still long. If you’re writing a 160 minute movie, it better be the next “Saving Private Ryan”.

3-Pick a topic and stick to it. To often I read something that meanders all over the place, after introducing something as the plot, it covers everything but said plot. Bad idea.

4-PLOT! Speaking of plot, pick a movie idea with a plot. No one wants to watch two hours of people talking about shit. Everyone thinks that they have the next Pulp Fiction or Clerks, but they forget that both of those had some part of a plot to encourage that crazy zany dialog (although Clerks plot was thin at best). If you want to write a 120 pages of two guys talking, write a novel.

5-High concept ideas- I usually hate this idea but its true. Having a film idea that can be summed up in two sentences usually helps.

6-Pick something positive- I’m completely speaking from experience, write about something somewhat happy. My film is getting killed in film fests right now because of the negative, sad, and explicit content. Write a happy kids film, it will sell.

There is a ton more advice I could dole out but that’s enough for now. I need to take rest of the day to finish reading this script and figuring out a way to tell this guy his script sucks without him ending up in tears.

Lessons I learned this week

2008-03-24T10:52:00.000-07:00

I’ve been treated to life altering lessons this past week-

1-Don’t ever think that you’ve got a sure fire plan. Sure as shit it will back fire.
2-Don’t leave your oven on after you make pizza.
3-Easter is the most overrated holiday.
4-Don’t make a movie about incest, violence and graffiti. It won’t get into film festivals. Trust me.
5-When driving with your girlfriend, don’t yell obscenities at asshole drivers who cut you off. It will only piss her off.
6-Always save often. Especially when writing a screenplay.
7-Eating nothing but jalapenos for two days straight is a bad idea.
8-If you owe money to a collector, always pay that off. Even if you want a new midi drum machine.
9-Don’t shave your dog with an electric razor unless you are sure that it has the guard clip attached snug. If you don’t, your dog will end up looking like a plucked turkey.
10-When playing golf, always bring three more golf balls then you think you will lose.
11-If you work with someone who takes three sick days a week on average, then you should get ready for a long work week.
12-Thick skin and relentless ambition is more important than talent.
13-When painting, never let your dog get close to the canvas unless you want your dog to have a butt and tail covered in paint. Especially don’t let her get back to the painting a second time after you already washed her, it will only led to your entire house being painted by your dog.
14-When poor, Ramen isn’t enough to eat, it will only make you want to buy groceries or go to Jack in the box.
15-Having Netflix is great, if you actually watch the movies you’ve rented.
16-If you write off the Phoenix Suns, they will start winning again.
17-When talking to your 5 year old Nephew on the phone, just keep saying ‘that’s so cool’ even if you don’t understand what the hell he’s talking about.
18- When you feel like you should cry but can’t, don’t listen to sad music. It will only make you feel worse.
19-If you are obsessed with your career, you won’t be happy. Take a step back and go with the flow.
20-When picking your NCAA brackets, don’t use any sort of reason. Just pick random games.
21-Postive thinking is hard as shit to do in today’s day and age. But it’s the most important thing you can do.
22-Cleaning before you have guests over is a fruitless and pointless endeavor.

I’m sure that there are more things but I can’t think of them right now. Have a great day!

WNBA vs. Arena Football League

2008-03-19T13:39:00.000-07:00

Here is a taste of my new column to be appearing on the Phat Phree.com that I will be writing with Brandon. Its a head to head type of thing about important sports topics. Here's my defense of the WNBA being a better league than Arena Football League. Enjoy!

The WNBA is most exciting sports league on the planet, maybe the universe. Obviously, that’s a blanket statement that everyone agrees with.

I could describe the well know virtues of the league-
-the record shattering TV ratings
-the 2,000 straight sold out games
-the seas of WNBA jerseys you see on every man, woman and child throughout the world
-the international icon Sheryl Swoopes who has become the popular face of stage and screen, thanks to her illustrious WNBA career
-the excitement of the game itself with its hyper competitive nature, the dynamic showtime theatrics, the constant dunking and alley oops, the high shooting percentage, etc etc

...but everyone knows these facts. I don’t have to defend something that’s so strong and well organized, that’s like the US defending Iraq or something.

No, I’m here to prove a well known point and shed a little light into a dark cracks of lies- the WNBA is better than the Arena Football League and not for reasons that you already know.

Of course you all love the WNBA. But not all of you hate the AFL. Not until now. They put out a front that they’re this silly little indoor football league. They’re not.

The Arena Football league is an evil organization hell bent on destroying the world. They’re like Cobra, the Decepticons and the Legion of Doom all rolled into one, but if that group was lead by the demon offspring of a robot Hitler and Skeletor.

Sure, they look like a fun loving group of lazy teams that don’t want to deal with playing in cold weather and don’t want to have to run very far down the field. But if you look at the financial statements of the league, you find very shady mathematics.

First, where does the revenue come from? No one goes to these games and even fewer people watch them on TV. Is the AFL even on TV? They must play the games on PBS or the new Oprah network, The FishTaco Channel, cause I haven’t seen a game before.

So if they aren’t making money on the football, how can they still be around after all these years? The secret? Streams of revenue that would make the mafia jealous; drug sales, gambling, extortion, prostitution, selling post dated medications, cat kidnapping (better know as catnapping) and selling shirts with super funny sayings like ‘McLovin’ or ‘Nerds do it in Binary’.

I know you’re saying to yourself, “Self, that’s not much worse than what I used to do to make ends meet in college.” I agree. You guys were pretty bad in college.
The reasons to raise this capital isn’t for pure profit or put the owners of the league in fur lined UGGS, it’s to spread chaos throughout the world and take now modern society as we know it.

Here’s a short list of a few but not all of the things that the AFL are responsible for-
-12-21-2012 look that shit up bitches, scary huh?
-Paris Hilton
-AIDS in Africa
-Back Hair
-Global Warming
-Leggings
-High gas prices
-The writer’s strike and the upcoming actor’s strike
-Y2K
-Homelessness
-The world’s economic downturn
-Did I mention Paris Hilton?

In short, the AFL is responsible for the world ending. I could elaborate on the world ending but there’s not much to say beyond that the world ends and... stuff. And then all the bad things would end... And that would be bad. Why? Well, and ah, wait ... I’ll have get back to you on that.

Come to think of it, maybe the AFL has the right idea. End the world and all the bad stuff ends... hmmm. Is it too late to pick the AFL instead?

Barack's big moment

2008-03-18T11:09:00.000-07:00

Let’s take a look inside the head of Barack Obama few minutes before his speech in Philadelphia PA and figure out what really goes on inside his mind....

Goodness, this is going to be tough. I don’t know how I can go on. Barack, if there was ever a time to just call in quits my old boy, its today.

This may be the most important speech of my career. Maybe the most important speech on race since I Have a Dream. I have to address this race issue once and for all, to bridge the divide between all voters of all colors. But how can I?

I still haven’t eaten my morning Eggos.

David knows that I won’t go on stage without my Eggos. Everyone in the campaign knows this! And yet here I sit, without a plate of 4 tasty Eggos covered in Aunt Jemima Country Rich Lite syrup. This is getting to be gosh darn ridiculous.

Eggos, my muse, my only hope. The way you dance across my pallet with the help of Aunt Jemima acting like a sticky conduit to cool and calm my senses. Your strong yet subtle taste rocks my nerves to sleep. Your texture and consistency is much like a great eagle soaring through the wind, delivering justice to the empty cavity I call my stomach.

Oh, the delicious smell of those buttery rich Eggos as they pop up out of a toaster, or slide out of the toaster oven. Heck, at this point, I’d eat them out of the microwave. Poop, I might even eat them frozen without syrup.

I can’t believe the audacity of David, bringing me those Kashi Waffles. What do I look like, a fool? You can’t pass off GoLean waffles as Eggos!

Now I’m supposed to go in front of the media and the good people of Philly on an empty stomach. It’s not the empty stomach that’s the problem really. It’s the principle of the thing.

Do they not carry Eggos in the great state of Pennsylvania? I can understand that they don’t carry Eggos at Whole Foods, but they don’t have them at Food Mart?

I can’t even concentrate and I’m supposed to go on in two minutes. What the heck was I even supposed to speak about? Health care? Gun Control? The NCAA tournament? I’m going go up on stage a make a fool of myself. Pull it together B. O.!

Who ever ate the last of the Eggos on the bus is going to get fired. No, beat down. Flogged with a sugar cane and water boarded. The nerve of these people. Don’t they know who I am? How important I am?

Where is David? He should be back by now with those Eggos. What the fuck... wait, what did I just think? I just thought an obscenity! I really am losing it now. If I can’t control my inner dialog, how am I going to stop myself from calling all these fine reporters and good people of Philly a bunch of lily livered, chicken shit cocksuckers?

(just then campaign manager David Plouffe runs in with a plate of piping hot Eggos and gives them to Barack. David cowers like an abused dog and scurries away.)

That’s right, you better run away. Mmmmm, that’s the ticket. Eggos, you’re the only one who understands me. Now, I’m ready to take on the world!

Worst Sports Tattoo

2008-03-17T15:56:00.000-07:00

I recently interviewed Stephen Jackson for an article for International Knitting. After speaking ad nauseum about courses, wales, and the advantages of double pointed knitting needles; we moved onto basketball and his life.

As standard practice, I demand that all interviews are done in the nude. I noticed that on Mr. Jackson’s chest there was a strange tattoo of praying hands holding a gun in front of some sort of church window. When I asked about, the shy and reserved Jackson smiled.

“As you know, I’m a very devout Mormon,” said Jackson. “I preach the gospel wherever I go to whom ever will listen. Speaking of which, have read the book of Mormon?”

I told him about my lengthy studies in Provo when I was a member of the Mormon exchange program with the church of Scientology, which I am currently in good financial standing with (hail Xenu!).

Since he knew I could relate, he told me of one evening that changed his life. He was in Indianapolis spreading the word of Joseph Smith, riding his bike with his tie and short sleeved dress shirt on with ex-teammates and fellow Mormons Jamaal Tinsley, Marquis Daniels and Jimmie Hunter when some local ruffians stopped them outside of strip club.

“They wanted to speak to us, I thought this might be a good time to teach others about the sins of the flesh. After I asked them if they had heard of Jesus Christ’s other travels, one of them punched me. Hard. I was in a state of shock. It was like something I had never felt before like a woman’s vagina. Having never been in a fight before, I didn’t know what to do so I did what comes natural”

“I fell to my knees and prayed that he wouldn’t hurt me when this large fellow put this gun into hands. I looked at it, it was strange he would do so. Suddenly, a car drove up and hit me. I was scared and I fired the gun into the air. My goodness the sounds were so loud! Everyone backed away, saving myself and my fine Mormon friends Jamaal, Marquis and Jimmie.”

“It was as if God answered my prayers right there, giving me a way to save our lives,” said Jackson.

Jackson immediately thanked the Lord and decided that he must celebrate the event with a tattoo; something that he had always wanted to try before.

“I’ve heard of tattoos, but I wasn’t sure how they worked. I thought it was something you put on with water and tape, but it involved needles. No one told me that! Man did it hurt, I cried the entire time,” said Jackson.

I asked him if it would be okay if I examining his tattoo at close range, which he agreed. I rested my head on his navel and took a big long stare at it. I realized that I hated his tattoo.

I think its great that he had such a touching moment in his life and all but look at the tattoo. The hands don’t even look very real! The gun wasn’t nearly as big as he described! The church window doesn’t have any detail! If you’re really close, you can see little spots where it wasn’t filled properly.

Clearly, the artist who did the tattoo wasn’t a professional like that Kat Von D person I see on the television. She’s the Kat’s pajamas.

That’s why Stephen Jackson’s tattoo is the worst in sports.

Oklahoma man eats bricks

2008-03-12T11:18:00.000-07:00

The biggest event to hit the tiny town of Willingbone Oklahoma wasn’t much to look at. In front of a rundown shack of a home sat a little table covered with a check board table cloth. 10 red, white and blue balloons that were loosing helium by the second were tied to the table. On the table, a little boombox played the ‘Star Spangled Banner’. Next to the stereo, was the thing everyone wanted to see, 10 bright red bricks and one tiny man.

A group of 15 dumbfounded slack jawed yokels showed up to watch the spectacle. The look of shock on the crowd’s faces said it all. It just wasn’t possible. But there it was, a man eating solid red bricks.

“I wanted to eat bricks, but I just wasn’t sure how to,” said Kit Fisto, the world record setting brick eater. “Then one day it hit me like a ton of... well... you know.”

Fisto, a lean man who probably weighs 100 pounds wet, grew up dreaming of his way to fame. He spent his entire life in Willingbone, the town 100 miles from any major city. He knew that with his little education and very little talent it would be hard to fulfill his dream. It wasn’t until he started training for the county pie eating contest that realized his potential.

“I figgered if I can eat me some 20 pies, why not eats me some 10 bricks,” said Fisto. “That’s when I went to town and bought me some bricks and cement from Ace True Hardware. I also bought some Carhardt pants and a new Makita 18V 1/2" Cordless Hammer Driver-Drill Kit. It’s the one with the Variable Speed. Sakes alive, it’s the sweetest hammer driver-drill kit you ever did see man.”

Fisto first trained with loose cement before going onto bricks.

“It was rough going at first man,” said Fisto. “My poop was like rocks, well I guess it was rocks really. I had to start wearing a tampon in my butt cause I was bleeding so bad. But that’s the price you pay sometimes for success.”

Fisto set a date and had his cousin, Cleatus McDingle, promote the event by alerting national media and local officals. McDingle is the local promotions guru.

“When Kit puts his mind to a things, a things are going happen,” said McDingle. “I was just there to make sure that everyone knew about it. Everyone was excited to take part, it wasn’t like the Hog Balls and Twine show I promoted, people really wanted to see this, boy howdy.”

After announcing his intentions to the town, Fisto realized that he needed to follow through and eat some bricks.

“Truth be told man, I ain’t never eaten a whole brick before the event, just some cement. I felt like I should have done it before but I got sidetracked when me and Cleatus went hunting. I ate peyote and kind of forgot about it. Then I wake up with no pants on in a bathtub full of cheap pudding. Cleatus is yelling at me, ‘Dammit Kit, you gotta go out front and eat them damn bricks. I bet Buck from down on Clit street that you could do it, you better sober up and get out front.’ The pressure was on. I had the huge crowd of people there to see it, more people than I had seen in my whole life in one spot. As I sat down, I was still all fucked up in the head. Still, after I got the first brick down and I heard the cheers, I knew that I was going to do it.”

“It ain’t like nothing I ever did see before,” said Tammy Mae Sailor, a local housewife. “My uncle once ate his shoe after he lost a bet, but nothing like this.”

With Fisto’s new success and notoriety, he hopes to ride it to the top.

“I’m hoping that I can get onto some sort of reality TV show, like Flavor of Love or something like that,” said Fisto. “Except with hot chicks instead of that crackhead guy with the clock ‘round his neck.”

Man, I suck.

2008-03-11T14:19:00.000-07:00

I haven't been posting to my blog at all lately... I haven't really been in the mood, you know what I mean?

Things are going well, I'm starting to round the corner on my writing, which is the reason why I haven't posted anything lately. I've just been cranking out research for this thing and its taken away from my premorning writing routine.

Plus, ever since the stat counter broke on my website, I haven't been as interested because I haven't been able to see if anyone is even looking at this thing except for Moo and my girlfriend.

But I've got a few new ideas for things to write about, some awesome stories to tell and some funny fake news ideas that I've come up with. Please stay tuned! I promise much more tomorrow!

The meaning of life

2008-03-05T10:40:00.001-08:00

What’s the meaning of life?

Ah, if I knew, I certainly would let you all know.

I’ve always wondering what’s the meaning of it all. Shit, I wrote and worked on a script about a character searching for meaning of life. I still go back to it and work on it constantly, it’s the whale, and I’m Ahab.

Is the meaning of life to work 9 hours a day, five days a week, for 45 years or so and then retire and die?

Hmmmm, I’m starting to think not.

After working very hard to get where I am now (which isn’t very far) I’m starting to rethink the whole thing.

Maybe I’m missing out on life, the wonderful things around me, the adventure life brings, new experiences, traveling and the full opportunities that randomness offers.

Maybe we all are...

What if I sold everything I had, packed my few remaining possessions into a car and just traveled the US, doing odd jobs and experiencing new places and people?

Well, that’s not exactly ‘responsible’ or at least not what American society considers to be so. You’re supposed to stay in one place, have a career, buy a home, have a family etc.

Basically, life in the US comes down to one major factor- MONEY.

If you have money, you can do anything you want. If you don’t, then you work until you have money.

Wellllll fuck that! I’m sick of taking a majority of my time everyday to work to get money. But what the hell can I do about it right?

Man, there’s got to be a better way.

My Bad

2008-03-03T10:25:00.000-08:00

Sorry I haven't posted anything in the last couple of days. I was trying to get this script done ASAP so I could have someone important read it.

I wish I had a ton of stuff to write today but I'm just BLAH. I don't know why, I had a good weekend and everything.

This writers block is killing me inside right now. I'm trying something new to combat it, hopefully it works.

Tons of love to all my friends and family.

A heart warming story

2008-02-26T10:38:00.000-08:00

I’m in desperate need of a heart warming story. You know the type, one of those stories that make you cry with tears of joy, thankful that you get to live in this crazy world.

Stories like Forrest Gump, Finding Neverland or Amelie; stories that are so close to reality but just outside the realm of the average negative day. Something that just sticks to your insides and won’t let you forget about it.

I want to write that type of movie!

But alas, I have no ideas like that at all. I feel like everything I come up with is a bunch of negative clichés strung together to shock and awe the audience. I don’t want to do that, at least not for this script. I want to show my grandma a movie and have her enjoy it.

I know if you’re reading this, you must be sick of these writer’s block posts. Imagine me, I’m sick of writing about not being able to write!

The Whistles

2008-02-25T10:43:00.000-08:00

When you’re 8, there’s nothing more exciting than a road trip. Maybe my favorite thing to do during the summer besides visit my father was to drive to California with my brother and my mom, and her best friend Candy and her daughter Monica.

A trip to California always meant visiting Disneyland, Newport Beach, or Sea World; the hollowed shrines of kid fun. It also meant eating out for every meal, at most likely a fast food place. This creates a kid’s dream scenario- tons of fatty sugary foods and hours of running around driving your parents crazy.

One trip, we stopped off at McDonald’s to get happy meals. As you may or may not know, Happy Meals always contain one toy, usually a small hunk of plastic that kids play with in earnest for a half hour only to lose by the end of the day.

This particular time, that toy happened to be whistles. These weren’t normal whistles however. A referee whistle? No no no. This is a whistle that sounded like an air raid alarm, a shrill high pitch that drove directly into your brain stem and made you want to tear out any connective tissue that reached your ears.

My mom was driving when the first whistle came out of the little house shaped box that Happy Meals come in. Soon, a cacophony of screeches echoed throughout the Cutless Sierra...

Take that noise, multiple it times three whistles, add the factor of sugary soda and McDonald’s fries, and jam that into a car ride through the desert.

Needless to say, my mother and Candy were more than a little pissed about the whistles. They told us to stop.

But there was an upwelling of rebellion in our young hearts. The more that they told us stop, they louder we played. This was our stand, a chance for defiance against the women who held us in check. We weren’t going to go quietly into the night. We would whistle!

Never cross my mother, especially with a loud whistle.

My mother slammed on the breaks and pulled over the car, like we just had a tire blow out or hit something. She grabbed the three whistles, and threw them as hard as she could into the desert.

As we drove away, I remember wondering if anyone would discover those whistles years from now and wonder how they got there; like an anthropologist searching through ruins of our once great civilization. They may conclude that the whistles were used in a family ritual of crossing from the desert towards the ocean during the summer.

Weekend thoughts- the ‘Don’t fear the Reaper’ Edition

2008-02-22T11:22:00.001-08:00

Another Friday, another weekend coming, another edition of weekend thoughts...

-I won tickets to see the Liars tonight at the El Rey in LA! I submitted to this website, thinking I wouldn’t win and boooooooom! I won! I never win anything! I’m so pumped as the Liars are my new favorite noisy band! Hooray!

-I told everyone that I would have another Rock Band party this weekend but I don’t have the Rock Band video game. I told everyone I would just go and buy it, but that was before I knew I don’t have any money. Lame. Do I charge it to my credit card, knowing that I want to pay that massive balance off? Do I say screw that, I’m going to be responsible? Decisions, decisions...

-I’m still pretty locked into dead on writers block. Man, my brain hurts from thinking about thinking about writing. Ouch. Maybe a little Liars and Rock Band will help all of that. I’ll take any suggestions if you guys have any.

-I went for an interview today with for this Tim Allen movie. I thought I was going in for an interview for either an assistant position or an office manager but the guy told me when I was there it was for another PA. What do I have to do get out of being thought as only PA material? I work for the fucking president of production for Warner Bros people?!?!?!? Why would I want to go back to being PA? Although it would be set PA, which would be fun but fuck that. When am I going to find what’s the next step?

-The Oscars are this Sunday. Should be good times as usual but the thing is, none of these movies got me all that excited when I saw them, so this should be a pretty wide open race. I really hope that ‘There will be Blood’ wins some stuff, that was only movie I saw where I was truly blown away.

-You know what’s a very underrated song? Don’t fear the reaper. Man, it’s a pretty forward thinking song, and I’m impressed that people embraced it when it came out. Why am I telling you this? Cause I’m listening to it now.

Anyway, that’s the weekend notes for me. More blogs on Monday!

A movie moment

2008-02-21T11:41:00.000-08:00

Last night was the screening of Tag on the Warner Bros. lot. Man, was I nervous. I was more nervous before my screening of Jungle, my other short, in film school because that was really my first movie but this one was different. This was my first professional screening, in front of people who get paid to do movies.

I had a ton of my friends, family, cast, crew, co workers and bosses there. I had to get up there and say a few words of gratitude to everyone. I nearly broke down and cried when I thanked my parents and Steve, my boss and mentor. Man, what a baby I am.

When the lights went down and it started, I didn’t know how to feel at first. Then it hit me...

With everyone’s eyes on the screen, I felt like I was naked on the screen, not Paul the actor who has take off his clothes in a scene. Why? I guess it was my soul on the screen, my baby, something I had put the entire last year into and now it was in front of everyone, warts and all, for everyone to make judgment on.

But at the same time, it was cathartic. The process is essentially over, all except the promotion of it and the putting it out in film festivals.

That’s when the sinking dread of this week came flying to me, as I sat in the dark staring at the screen. Now its time to move onto to something else. But what? I’m not sure.

Writers block happens to everyone, but when it happens to me I break down inside. I feel like nothing I do is right, that everything I have set out to do is for shit. I feel like a poser, a wannabe, someone with no real ideas, no real artistic voice, no chance to succeed. I feel like everything I do has been done before, but better by other people who are more educated and better connected.

I know its crazy, but that’s the thoughts that run through my head when I don’t have a million dollar idea right away.

But after the credits ran, everyone clapped and seemed to enjoy the movie (or so they told me to my face). It felt good to have such a response to the film, to be surrounded by friends and family who just wanted to let me know that they appreciate the effort.

That means more to me than any film festival award.

After a few drinks at the Smokehouse with everyone, the feelings of dread, insecurity and nervousness went away. I was more nervous about the Suns losing to the Lakers. The lack of new ideas didn’t bother me, at least not during that time.

I scanned the bar, seeing my cast, crew, family and friends laughing, drinking and having a good time. It was a moment where time stood still and everything was right in the world. It was a moment I’ll never forget; a movie moment.

HORSE and how it’s hard to get back to work

2008-02-19T11:10:00.000-08:00

Man, its hard getting back into work today. Whenever you take 5 days off of work, its like work doesn’t exist. Then you get back and its like you were never gone in the first place. But it’s been tougher this time than others to get back into the swing of things.

I have a ton of stuff to take care of before my screening tomorrow. I feel a little nervous about the whole thing, I guess I won’t feel good about it until it’s all done and everyone has come and gone.

Plus, I had such a great time the last five days it’s hard to give that up to sit this office all day.

I went to Phoenix to visit my sister Moo, my brother and his new baby and my mom and pop as you may know. It was a good time had by most, even though there were some arguments, disagreements, unnecessary pressure from my sister to drive her around and entertain her. Amongst all that, a special thing happened.

We had one of those family bonding moments that you will look back on for decades after. My whole family played HORSE out front of my parent’s house on the little basketball hoop that my parents have.

It was one of those completely unplanned things that just randomly happen but feel so organic. My sister and I picked up the ball and started shooting around. Soon, one by one, everyone else was out front, taking jump shots or trying to bounce one of the ground into hoop.

My sister couldn’t miss for some reason. I lost to her numerous times. I have plenty of excuses though. We were playing on an 8 foot tall hoop, I’m used to regulation of course.

My brother and dad were as good as usual. My brother’s wife was able to make jump shots with my baby nephew strapped to her chest. We took a bunch of photos of my nephew looking like he was about to dunk the ball. My friend Kyle was there to win a couple games. Even my mom and girlfriend were shooting pretty well.

Everyone was laughing and having a good time. At one point I looked at everyone smiling and thought, this is what life is all about. Family, fun, laughter, smiles. I figured right then and there that will be one of the best times of my life. I better enjoy it now before it is gone, and all of the people there are long dead. (morbid I know, but that’s what I thought about).

Years from now, I will remember this moment fondly like I am right now, as I sit at my work desk wishing that I could be there again, trying to shoot a hook shot from behind the mailbox.

A girl named Moo

2008-02-13T15:41:00.000-08:00

This is going to be the last post until Tuesday next week unless I feel like doing one tomorrow morning.

Why? Tomorrow, I’m going to see my sister, brother and nephew in Phoenix. My sister is flying out from Michigan to visit my brother and his new baby. I’m pretty damn excited about it, but not nearly as much as she is. She calls me everyday to bug me about it.

My sister’s name is Moo. Well, her real name is Meaghan or Megan or Meagan, I’m not really sure actually. I’ve only addressed her as Moo her whole life.

She got her nickname from Moo Goo Gai Pan. My father and step mom ordered Chinese Food when she was a baby and nicknamed her after that order. Over time, the Gai Pan was dropped, so it was just Moo Goo. Then the goo left, bringing us to just plain Moo.

Moo doesn’t like when anyone besides her immediate family and her best friends to call her Moo. Some guy who’s mom used to baby sit Moo saw her and started calling her Moo in front of everyone, she kind of got pissed.

I guess I can see why. Most girls wouldn’t like to be named Moo, I guess cause if has certain cow connotations. I supposed cows mean fat. Stupid girls.

Moo is like the best name a girl can have. It makes a girl seem very accessible, fun loving and easy to get along with, which my sister is for the most part (except the easy to get along with part, most of her boyfriends would tell you otherwise.)

Older men love Moo, probably because of all the things listed above; plus her big boobs, cherub face and fuck you attitude. Unfortunately, very much older men also like Moo, she gets hit on by 50 year olds all the time (Moo’s just graduated college, not exactly old guy material unless they have a ton of money).

I can’t wait to see Moo. Enjoy the break from imightbewrong, and I’ll be back with bigger and better blogs next week, including blogs about my movie screening and a top ten list of favorite toys. PEACE!

Top ten super powers

2008-02-12T10:58:00.000-08:00

Have you ever wanted to blow up your roommate with your explosive powers? Have you ever wished that you could fly? Have you ever wished that you had X-ray vision so that you can see in girl’s clothes?

I have.

Here’s my list of the top ten super powers I wish I had.

10- Shapeshifting- How awesome would it be to turn into anything you can imagine? You could turn into your friends parents and scare the shit out them. Or better yet you could turn into Jessica Alba and pretend to be interested in your friends, only to pull the rug out from underneath them. Wait, is that gay? Maybe, but it would be funny as shit.

9- Duplication- Can you imagine if you could make 15 copies of yourself? You’d never have to do all the bullshit work, you could sit back and watch as your duplicates do all the work for you!

8- Invisibility- This one is obvious. You can look at hot chicks as they shower, they would have no idea. Also, you could sneak into any concert, club or sporting event, not to mention bank vaults.

7- ESP- Super mental powers. The ability to read other peoples thoughts. This one seems like a no brainer (te he I made a dumb funny). If I could read people’s thoughts, I would probably obsess over what people thought of me. Maybe this one won’t be so good after all.

6- X ray vision- More hot chick reasons with this one.

5- Precognition- the ability to see the future. This one might also be a little scary, especially if you saw when the world ends or what your future ugly ass kids look like.

4- Teleportation- No more traffic! Think about the possibilities. And fuck that Jumper movie, that whole thing should be about Hayden Christiansen being able to get to work on time.

3- Superhuman strength- It would be awesome to be my size, walk into Gold’s Gym and out lift every mutha funka in there. Imagine me on the World’s Strongest Man competition!

2- Superhuman intelligence- I would love to be the smartest person in the world. How awesome would watching Jeopardy be? Think about all things you could invent! Man, I’m such a nerd, I’m writing a blog about superpowers and I am super excited about the ability to be smart. Hmmmmm.... I’ll now retire to watch Harry Potter movies and work on my World of Warcraft (two things I don’t like, I swear!)

1- Superhuman reflexes- There, that’s better. A super power everyone can relate to. This super power would be used not for fighting crime or helping society of course, it would be used in sports. If I had superhuman reflexes, I’d be the sickest baseball player ever. You’re not getting that fast ball past me, I’m going to slap that crap all over the infield with deadly accuracy.

There you have it, a nerdy list of super powers. Now, I’ll retire to read more X-Men comic books.

Top Ten things wrong about the Grammy’s

2008-02-11T10:02:00.000-08:00

I watched the Grammy’s last night. Its not something I would normally do, I hate awards shows. But Sarah had to watch it, so I guess I had to also.

Here’s my top ten things that are wrong with the Grammy’s.

10-Dead people performances- they take video of a dead artist (last year Elvis, this year Frank Sinatra) and have them perform with a living artist mash up style (more on mash ups later.) What? Why? They’re dead? Ummmm.... is this supposed to be cool or something? I’m confused. It turns into all star karaoke, with a backing track from the pits of hell (I’m assuming that’s where Elvis and Frankie ended up). Just strange to me.

9-Not funny intros- Who the hell are the writers for awards shows? You writers have these people trying to make little funny quips, which never work. Then it makes both presenters look very awkward as they bite their lips at the shit that they have to say. Scratch the funny unless someone has something.... funny to say. (like when people get up there and make fun of Kayne, that’s always a good time). Which brings me to...

8-Angry spiteful speeches- Kayne has to make these speeches his soap box to remind America that he’s fucking crazy, self centered and full of hate. Telling everyone about how awesome you are and how everyone else didn’t help you is always a great way to show you’re humble. Then when you finally get to talking about your dead mom ten minutes later, they turn on the hurry up music. Good job alienating all the old people by yelling at the lady who plays the music because you used your time saying how awesome you are. That’s your own fault asshole. God I hate Kayne. Speaking of which, here’s another point about these acceptance speeches...

7-Long boring speeches- It’s simple people. Get up there, thank God, your parents, record label, band mates (if you have any) and some random celebs really fast and get off the stage. No one wants to hear you drone on with names no one knows. Fuck, put all your thanks on a blog and tell everyone to go to the blog site. Bang! You thanked everything you can think of there, and it doesn’t take up everyone else’s time that doesn’t care about your friends.

6-Long ass commercial breaks- I understand that they have a lot of stuff that they have to show in one sitting, so there isn’t room for a lot of commercial breaks. But to take a couple 10 minute commercial breaks is ridiculous. If I wasn’t surrounded by people who wanted to watch the Grammy’s, you would have lost my viewership during the second of these long capitalistic brainwashings.

5-West coast feed is three hours late- The Grammy’s start at 8 PM, regardless of where you live which means on the West Coast we get a three hour late show, even if it is filmed in LA! WTF!? Some of our friends went to the show taping, and they were out at the after parties when we first turned on the broadcast. Sarah was getting all these cryptic texts from her sister, giving her hints about the broadcast. Not fair.

4-Lifetime Achievement Awards- They announce a ton of these awards, yet they are almost like an after thought. They don’t allow the people to speak and accept the award, nor do they even really show anything about them or play much of their music. They get a 30 second blurb and that’s it. The Band deserves more than just a mention. What about a tribute to them by some of their contemporizes.

3-Crack heads winning awards- When Amy Winehouse won an award for something (I can’t remember what) she looked like someone gave her a big old bowl of crack rock. Her speech was like what I would expect someone from Snatch to say, giving shot outs to her husband in jail and London. Never give a crack head a Grammy. Unless it is Flavor Flav.

2-Too many fucking awards- They have an award categories for everything you could think of, like 500 total. I think I might have won a Grammy last night but I was too bored to read it off the bottom line scroll. I guess Obama won a Grammy last night... wait what? I’m so confused now.

1-Mash ups- It seems like every year they take a couple of artists that have absolutely no connection to each other and have them perform together. Sometimes this works out, most of the time it doesn’t. Two great examples from this year’s Grammy’s- Kid Rock doing some fucking old ass song with some broad who is old enough to be his grandma (and Rock told her she’s sexy.... gross) and the Time get back together for one show and then here comes Rihannniaaaa or however you spell her name to sing with them. But she wasn’t doing old Time songs, she’s just singing her bullshit. The Time only got one fucking song together! One song!

There Grammy's, take that list and come back to next year with something much better.

Top Ten People I want to smack in the face-

2008-02-07T10:10:00.000-08:00

You ever have the feeling that you just want to run up to someone and smack them as hard as you can in the face. I do.

I present to you the top ten people I want to smack in the face (these are people I don’t know, if I included people I knew, my ex roommate would be number one with a bullet.)

10- Britney Spears- I placed her at 10 because it’s very easy to pick on this waste of space. Yeah she sucks as a mom, performer and human being but I kind of feel sorry for her. It doesn’t mean that I’ve given up hope of smacking her in the face, I just can’t place her nearly as high on the list.

9- Mariah Carey- I’ve never liked this chick. Yeah she’s got an okay body, if you’re into big titties. But her voice is annoying, her high note screeching is like finger nails on a chalk board. And she so full of herself, I can’t stand it. Plus, have you seen Glitter? That’s reason enough to smack the shit out of her.

8- Amy Winehouse- I actually kind of like her music. But this bitch is crack crazy. And she looks like a tranny. She could easily pass for any man dressing up like a woman on Santa Monica. And her cracky face is every where. Smack smack!

7- Colin Farrell- Talk about smug assholes. This guy couldn’t act his way into a third grade play yet he’s always working. Have you seen Miami Vice? I wanted to pick up Jamie Foxx and smack Colin across the head with him. Plus he’s fucking dick to every fan, at least that’s what they say. And you know that they never lie.

6- Dr. Phil- This guy has all the answers apparently. He knows everything. Don’t question his authority, he’s too smart for that. He’s going to fix your problems and mine and everyone else’s. You know what you could fix Dr. Phil? You could fix me a sandwich. That would be a better use of your time.

5- Kirsten Dunst- Why does this chick keep getting work? Tell me one thing that she does that’s good? She’s ugly, can’t act, can’t stay sober, can’t dress herself, etc etc. I really wanted her to die in Spiderman 1, 2 and 3. Thank God she’s not going to be in any more Spiderman movies (not that I will watch anymore of them anyway).

4- Kobe Bryant- Rapist. Braggart. Overrated. Thinks he’s God’s gift to basketball and women. Smack the shit out him until he’s unable to play the rest of the season (and the Suns win the championship!)

3- Paris Hilton- Do I have to explain this one?

2- Ann Coulter- If you don’t know who this chick is, thank the Lord above you don’t. She’s the most annoying political analyst of all time, she makes Rush Limbaugh seem as likeable as Morgan Freeman. She makes outrageous claims that she can’t back up, picks fights for the sake of publicity, and says shit just to get people riled up, even if it doesn’t make any sense.... speaking of which...

1- Stephen A. Smith- ESPN’s very own asshole. This guy and I have a personal history. He guest hosted a show I was working on and he did everything he could to become the biggest dickhole in the world. The muthafucka can’t read!!!! And he blamed it on me!!!! Fuck this guy up his stupid ass with a tuba. Not only is he illiterate and a jerk, he just yells and yells when there is no reason to. It’s like that scene in Austin Powers where he can’t control the volume of his voice. Only it’s not a temporary side effect, its permanent. And even more annoying.

FUCK STEPHEN A SMITH!

There is the list, if you see any of these people, let me know. I’ll be there in a jiffy with a weighted glove, ready to knock some jaws off.

Shaqqqq

2008-02-06T10:33:00.000-08:00

Oh my God! Why God Why?

The Phoenix Suns have traded for Shaquille O’neal, one of the slowest, plodding, oft injured, potentially washed up players in the NBA. Steve Kerr, the Suns GM has essentially given this team a two year ‘all or nothing’ window to get a championship or become a rebuilding team filled with old players.

As I have stated in the past in this blog, I think Shawn Marion should have been traded back in October. He is a terrible malcontent, more worried about his money and his numbers than winning a championship. To me, good riddance bitch. Don’t let the door hit your whiny ass on the way out.

But why trade Marion and his high flying, fast play that fits the Suns run and gun offense for a guy who has a terrible hip problem, an enormous contract and can’t run with the Suns?

I have a couple of justifications for it, even if I don’t necessarily believe them.

1- Shaq can match up against the bigs in the West during the playoffs. Since there are more and more big guys coming to the West (fuck the Lakers and their Pau Gasol trade), they need to find someone to match up. Amare Stoudemire isn’t the answer, as he gets into foul trouble playing at center, when he should be guarding power forwards, if he can guard anyone.

2- Shaq has been faking his injury this year so that he didn’t have to play on the worst team in the NBA. This would make sense considering Shaq plays for the post season and doesn’t give a crap about the regular season. Since the Heat weren’t going to the playoffs, why play at all? I’d sit and collect 20 million a year if I was on that team. Plus, I heard he was in a fight with Pat Riley and didn’t want to play for him anymore.

3- Shaq always plays better for one year after he gets traded. Shit, he won a championship the year he was traded to the Heat, and the year after he was traded to the Lakers if I’m not mistaken.

4- We got rid of the locker room cancer that is Shawn Marion. He was causing such a divide in morale that getting him out of there and putting in a vet who can calm egos is huge.

5- We got rid of the albatross contract of Marcus Banks, who should have never been signed in the first place and is just taking up cap space on the team. He never played to his potential since he arrived, and wasn’t going to sniff any playing time. Fuck him, get rid of him.

6- If we get a championship, just one championship out of Shaq, then its all worth it. Right? I guess that’s the big if.

The question is now, can the Suns make it through with Shaq at about half of his already slow speed? I don’t think so personally. But I guess it is worth a shot, even if it means taking the biggest gamble in recent NBA history.

There is no middle ground in this trade, it’s a huge reward or a huge bust. Who knows, maybe Shaq comes to Phoenix with another chip on his shoulder and plays lights out. If that’s the case, then this trade was just the thing the Suns needed. If not, then it was one of the biggest gaffs in team history. Only time will tell. Until then, I can just beg God that Shaq loses 45 pounds. Please God?

Super Tuesday

2008-02-05T10:14:00.000-08:00

------"Super Tuesday! Yeah!"

As you may or may not know, today is Super Tuesday, the day that 24 states plus America Somoa vote for the presidential primary.

I haven’t been this pumped up to vote in a long time. I ran around all morning yelling, “Super Tuesday!”

Taryn thought that a marketing team invented the fancy term Super Tuesday this year to get young people to vote. No Tayrn, according to a quick wikipedia look the term Super Tuesday has been around since the 1984 elections.

I got up extra early and went with my friend Taryn to vote at the local elementary school. As we walked up to the front office, I felt like a parent going to a student teacher conference with my estranged baby momma walking slowly in her high heels behind me.

Luckily, as soon as someone saw us, they pointed for us to go to the voting area. I guess we don’t look like parents after all!

Inside, I went straight to work. I was first in line and banged right through my ballot. Man do I feel accomplished!

I made sure to vote to make sure the Native American casinos pay taxes. My mom has given enough money to these people, its time they start giving some back.

I voted for some other stuff, like lower the city sales tax on cell phones (at least that’s what I think it is... hmmmm I should have researched that one better.)

And last but not least, I voted for Barack Obama. Why? It was tough decision for sure. I honestly went back and forth between Obama and Clinton all month. I finally settled on Obama because I want a new take, a fresh view on politics. He may not have the experience, but he certainly has the charisma and ‘audacity of hope’.

I’m not sure if he can win the nomination, but whoever does and eventually wins the presidential election will be a fresh change after 8 years of Bush (that sounds like an epic porno title.)

But until they figure it all out, I can enjoy the excitement of today and yell out ‘Super Tuesday!’ to everyone I see!

Get off the ledge Pats fans

2008-02-04T10:24:00.000-08:00

“It is completely unnecessary to suffer several days’ emotional devastation just because your team loses some big postseason deal like the Super Bowl. Why on Earth would you place your happiness and peace of mind in the hands of several dozen strangers? Listen, folks, if they win, fine; if they lose, fuck ‘em! Let ‘em practice more. As for you, for Chrissakes find something to do! Get your ass down to the massage parlor and spring for a blow job,” - George Carlin.

I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Yesterday was one of the best Super Bowls of all time. It had all the heart tugging tension, last minute heroics and interesting story lines of a football movie. It was David versus Goliath. I think most of America wanted David to win.

But what about those Goliath fans out there?

Yeah, if you’re a Patriots fan, you must heartbroken I’m sure. The thoughts of an undefeated season and the history books are gone (even though you will still be in the history books as the team that fucked up, which probably hurts more than anything.)

But you can’t commit suicide because they lost.

If sports have taught me anything is that life is way too short to worry about how you lost. I guess that has to do with the teams that I cheer on. If you’re a Lions fan, you also would stop caring if you won or lost. You’d just be happy if your team didn’t draft a wide receiver in the first round for the tenth straight year.

But if you are from Boston or the New England area, you’ve built yourself up as this unstoppable sports fan. You’re Sox just won the World Series, you’ve put together a powerhouse with the Celtics and you’re beloved Pats are undefeated errrrr... was undefeated.

What’s the phrase, never get to high or too low? Is that it? Or is it, don’t get to full of yourself. Or, don’t think that your shit don’t stink...

Say what you want about the game, the players, the injuries (was Brady’s boot the cause of this?), the hoopla and the hype- fuck all of that. It doesn’t matter. That’s why they play the game. You might look like the best team on paper, but if you’re not the best on the field, than who cares.

If you feel like there is no chance to lose, then you probably are going to lose. And if you do lose after being full of yourself, don’t beat yourself up. Give a day and then get over it. Go get some clam chowda’ and go down to ‘Ha’vard yahd and beat up some smaht kids.’ That always seems to make Matt and Ben happy.

Weekend review

2008-02-01T09:44:00.000-08:00

Hey gang! Here’s a quick weekend preview/week wrap up, I’ve got to et back to creating a website. (Fuck me I hate programming a website!)

-First off, LOST. Last night had me super amped up, like the first day of the football season (aka the only time the Lions seem like they could make the playoffs). The episode didn’t disappoint, there was a lot going on and a lot more questions presented to us. Can’t wait for the next one.

-Speaking of which, please take care of this strike guys! I read an article that if it doesn’t get taken care of soon, it might wait until the fall. THE FALL??!?!?!?!?!?! Fuck me, how am I going to find a job out there?

-Another speaking of which, I heard more terrible news about the job market today on NPR. Our economy is in the shitter. Was there a better time to move to Canada? I couldn’t imagine graduating from college right now (like my sister, and my girlfriend in 6 months). Its going to be tough getting jobs. Ouch.

-Super Bowl. I can’t wait to see this game. My friends may come over to watch it, although I may have to go to my girl’s work to watch it, just to support her and Taryn, who wants to watch it there and spend a ton of money. I, on the other hand, don’t have much money, so staying home and eating cheaper food sounds good. Plus the beers are much cheaper.

-XBOX 360. My Xbox got the ‘three lights of death’ the other day. If you’re not familiar with this, it means my Xbox died. I had to send it in, apparently this happens all the time. Who makes a product that the company has to recall and pay around 150 dollars to repair? I guess a company who wanted to make a cheap product and get it out fast.

-I’m acting and shooting some quicky shorts this weekend for fun. Man, I can’t wait. I miss actually shooting something, instead of doing all the other shit that happens after you shoot, like editing and sound mixing and getting it into festivals and press kits and websites...

-Which brings me to websites. Man, I had no idea how hard it would be to do this shit. I’ve really struggled to get some of these things together, the program I am using is so fucking confusing! You do something and think its going to work and then it doesn’t update. Fuck it!

-Personal note- Never tell a girl she smells like menstaration. Girls don’t like that apparently.

Well, I hope you guys enjoy your weekend. Go Pats errrr Giants... fuck it. Go both teams!

Top Ten Old People you would have sex with

2008-01-31T10:29:00.000-08:00

If you had to sleep with a current old person, perhaps someone famous, who would it be.? I recently asked this question to a few friends and we got some really strange responses.

Here’s the list of top ten old people you would have sex with if you had to fuck an old person. (there are five men and five ladies, making this a bi sexual list...)

10- Ali McGraw- (70) I’ve always had a thing for this chick, every since I saw Love Story and the Getaway. She used to look like Kate Mara looks now. How does she look now? I’m not sure. But man she used to be hot and she’s still alive.

9- Harrison Ford- (66) The girl from down the hall at work loves this dude. What’s not to love, he’s been two of the most memorable characters of all time, Han Solo and Joe Gavilan from Hollywood Homicide. My friend Taryn disagrees, her direct quote “I can’t date someone who wears a gay ass ear ring.” I can understand that, he’s old enough to collect Social Security, he doesn’t need an ear ring. But apparently Taryn can date someone who has a gay ass lip piercing (inside joke at Dayn’s expense)

Also, Harrison Ford gets crazy stoned... bonus points... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nubw-MjUffA

8- Diane Lane- (43) Ok she’s not old. In all actuality, she’s only 43. 43! But every time you mention her to a guy, they’re like, “I’d bag that old ass.” Dude, she’s not that old! Why does every guy think she’s so old? I thought I would include her to make a point. She may look old, but she could be much older. Plus, she seems to be topless and getting screwed in all her movies. Good times.

7- Anderson Cooper (41) Here’s the male equivelent to Diane Lane. Chicks love this dude and think he’s old. Just because he has gray hair chicks think he’s much older and much hotter than he really is. Is that all it takes, is a little gray hair? That’s cool, I’ve got graying thin hair, I look ten years older than I am too! Love me please! Plus my girl says that this dude is gay. Sorry ladies.

6- Jane Fonda- (71) This one is for my boy Adam Bradley. He pointed her out and I have to agree, she’s still got it. I’ve never really thought she was that hot but man she takes care of herself to this day. And who doesn’t want to fuck Barbarella?

5- Sean Connery- (78) Another old ass dude who played some pretty big roles( what girl doesn't want to fuck James Bond?). Women always find him sexy. I hear he’s kind of a dick, but whatever, women love assholes. Strange to think that he was cast at Harrison’s father in Indiana Jones, yet he’s only 12 years older. Hmmmmm.

4- Audrey Hepburn- (dead, she would be 79) I’ve always had a thing for this girl. She’s so cute. Too cute... so cute it makes my penis confused... she’s like a telli tubby mixed with a porn star. But alas, she’s dead. Now I can only jerk off to her corpse (just kidding, you can get worms from doing that). But look at the picture above from 1991, she took care of herself and even looked good in old age!

3- George Clooney- (47) Again not that old but chicks think he’s super hot. And I respect him, so I have to put him on this list. Maybe I should have put Robert Redford and Clint Eastwood on this list, they’re much older... hmmmm.

2- Ingrid Bergman- (also dead, she would be 93) Being such a huge Casablanca fan, I couldn’t leave her off the list. But of course, when I went to look up her age, she’s dead, died when I was four years old. Shit, I guess this list is turning into dead old chicks I would bang. Shit. I should have put Cleopatra on here.

1- Michelle Pfeiffer- (50) Man, she’s 50? She’s the best looking 50 year old that I can remember shit. I was never a big Pfeiffer fan, I never had a boner for this chick before. But looking at her at the premiere of the 2007 shitty film Stardust, damn. I’m impressed. I did think she was pretty hot in Scarface, shit you could bang her while listening to ‘Gangsta’s Paradise’ for comic relief. That would be pretty hot.

So that was only four guys and six girls... ‘you lied to us J!’ Well, I can’t end the list with a guy, that would be gay. Secondly, I can’t have too many dead women on the list, it makes me look like a necro. Third, it’s my list, I can break my own rules.

Others who didn’t make the list- Cindy Crawford, Diane Keaton, the chick from Married with Children, Debra Winger, Dolly Parton (who looks like she’s 18 year old robot now from too much plastic surgery), Lynda Carter and Estelle Getty.

Computer Design

2008-01-29T09:44:00.000-08:00

I’m trying to design a website for my short movie. I have all these big nerdy internet dreams for the site. You log into www.tag.com and all this cool flash intro stuff happens and then the trailer for the movie starts and stills from the movie fly at you from all angles. BOOM! You’re instantly hooked into the world of my movie.

It seems like something that could happen, right? Then I realized, I don’t know how to program that, at all. Shit, I don’t even know that much about the internet.

I once took a month long course on internet design, and I learned how to make the lamest webpage of all time. But I came out of it thinking I knew how to program a website.

Boy was I wrong. I had no fucking idea how hard this shit was going to be.

There are so many steps, so many programs and companies and urls and crap... so much stuff I don’t know!

Crap, my awesome www.tag.com is taken... I guess I have to have www.tagshortfilm.com. Does that still sound cool? I hope so. That’s my new url.

After registering my site, I am hit with like 100 other ‘options’ that are optional but sound more like ‘mandatorys’ if I want my site to not suck. All of these options of course cost MONEY.

I need to have a hosting? What the fuck’s that mean? What, I need to have Ryan Seacrest introduce my site? (just kidding I know what this shit means, I did take a month long internet course of course.)

Then I research programs that help you build your site from scratch, Dreamweaver is like a 1,000 dollars. Ouch. Fuck that. I could pay someone else that much money to do it...

So I look for other companies to build the site. After researching this, I then realize that it will cost me a fortune to have a company build a site with all the cool flashy shit I want in it.

I find one company that will help out, internet solutions for less. I talk to EJ from the company who says I could pick from a 1,000 templates and use one to customize my site. But all of the templates are strange and don’t match up to what I want to do.

Damn. I’ve run out of options. If you go to my website and your not completely impressed, I’m sorry. I had to settle for something less than my nerdiest internet dreams.

how tag came about...

2008-01-28T10:43:00.000-08:00

I have a ton of stuff to do toady for Tag's promotional materials for film festivals. Instead of giving you all a very funny story about poop, I thought I would cut and paste the story of how the inspiration for my short film came about...

I got the idea for Tag when I was playing basketball at a local park in Hollywood.
There was a group of young Russian and black kids who were seriously hip hop; the slang, the baggy clothes, the wanna be tough guy attitude, the cliché.

It reminded me of... me. I used to dj hip hop at clubs, scratch for local hip hop acts, freestyle battle with my friends, wear all my clothes gangsta, tag up bathrooms with graffiti, get too faded and get into too much trouble.

Why did I act like that? Good question. A damn good question.

I did it for hip hop; the art of it, the community, the music, the vibe, the rebellion from my utter pasty whiteness.

It was staring at those kids that made me realize that I was no longer like that. While there are remnants of hip hop in my life, (I still love my tilted ballcap and fresh sneakers), the music, the graffiti, and the attitude are nearly gone from my life.

Why don’t I act like that now? Another good question.

Something got lost along the way. Maybe I grew up or maybe I got too old. Maybe I wanted a change. Maybe hip hop just didn’t do it for me anymore. Maybe hip hop changed.

Hip hop isn’t about the art anymore. It’s more about the commercial aspects of the music. Hip hop is more about portraying a bad stereotype. Hip hop is now about violence, misogyny, drug use, who’s gotten shot more and who’s got more bling.

I thought back to my friends Brent and Clint, who were both shot and killed in separate shootings about 7 months apart. Both were ‘gangstas’, mixed up with the wrong kids with bad intentions.

Both were trying to change their bad ways, finally turning a corner at clearing themselves of the crime, violence and self destructive behavior when they were struck down by bullets. Sometimes irony really hurts.

I wondered if any of these kids at the basketball court wanted more from their lives. Does one of them want to be something more than what they are now but are held back by their friends, their situation, their existence?

That’s why I left hip hop, djaying and graffiti to pursue film; a medium of art that didn’t hold such negative connotations.

It hit me then and there, I had to write about this!

I decided right away that I would focus specifically on graffiti instead the music of hip hop (which has been done to death).

Why Graffiti? I firmly believe still to this day that graffiti is the most misunderstood art form. I think Graffiti is beautiful; others think its trash. That dichotomy has always intrigued me.

When I sat down to write, I didn’t want to just recycle my own personal story, I wanted to craft a revisionist telling of a Greek tragedy, told through the guise of the modern hip hop community. I wanted a story with some emotional impact, a unique storytelling dynamic and visual style similar to the art I was talking about. Hopefully, I’ve come close to my intentions.

Rainy Days

2008-01-25T09:25:00.000-08:00

Don’t you just love the rain? I do.

It’s been raining for the last four or five days straight. Sometimes its little bursts of rain, other times it’s a downpour. It reminds me of when I first moved to LA, it rained everyday for like three months it felt like. It was one of the rainiest years LA had ever seen. And I loved every second of it.

Think of all the wonderful things you can do when its raining…

-Splash in puddles. Awesome. Nuff Said.

-Write. I get my best writing done when its raining. I don’t know why, if the cold weather shakes my brain up or the rhythmic pattern of the raindrop hitting the ground sparks some creativity.

-Play guitar. Sit under a balcony and play sad slow songs. Think about all the people long gone.

-Converse. I wish I could sit at home on the patio, drink coffee and talk to Jeff Woods. Unfortunetly, I have to go to work, I don’t have a coffee maker anymore and Jeff lives in New York.

-Go swimming. Have you ever gone swimming when it’s raining? If you haven’t, I highly recommend it.

-Watch a bunch of old movies.

-Go for a wet walk.

-Play chess. That’s what I’m going to do today at work actually.

I hope it rains as hard and long as when I moved to LA, think of all the wonderful things I could do!

Unromantic Romantic Film

2008-01-24T10:04:00.000-08:00

My friend Molly wanted me to review this romantic dramedy script that she’s writing. I went through it and came up with some notes and called her to tell her what I think of it.

Boring story so far, yes, but here’s where it gets less boring… for me at least.

Molly hit me with something I wasn’t ready for, she wants me to direct it.

While I like the script, it’s not exactly what I normally work on, a romantic comedy/drama. I’m more about dramas (aka misery) without a hint of romance. I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t think it was in my wheelhouse, to borrow a baseball term, not my forte.

But I said I would do it. Every chance to direct and not have to pay for it myself, I gotta take it right?

The more I think about the script, the more I like it.

Sure it’s a movie about romance, but not really. It’s more like the opposite of romance, what is that called… that’s right reality.

There aren’t nearly enough movies that tackle the real parts of human relationships, and if they do, its usually with a big Hollywood ending where the two people who are meant for each other but can’t seem to make it work finally figure it out and live happily ever after. This doesn’t have that basic mandatory ending, and I (aka misery lover) loves me a not perfect ending.

But here’s the predicament, I think the script still needs work. Maybe a couple drafts more. There are some serious character arcs that need to be resolved. There are a couple characters that could be flushed out. There is a great possibility for two of the supporting roles to get meatier and help the story. The dialog is too on the nose right now… etc. etc. etc.

Usually, I would just write the shit myself, but this is Molly’s baby and the whole reason she wants me to direct it is because she wants to have something she wrote made. And if I tackle helping rewriting it, then she might not feel like it is hers, which the whole thing is hers, I just want to augment that. Hmmmmm…. What do I do?

Hopefully you will see an awesome unromantic romantic film coming from Molly and I very soon.

Heath Ledger

2008-01-23T10:59:00.000-08:00

I feel terrible about the passing of Heath Ledger.

When I was working on “Where the Wild Things Are”, his girlfriend and baby momma, Michelle Williams was cast on the film (she has since been recast). I had to pick Michelle up at the airport and drive her around for two hours. She was one of the coolest stars I have met out here so far, totally down to Earth, and easy to talk to. She had her beautiful daughter Matilda with her, it seemed like life was great for her.

During the voice recording sessions, Heath flew into LA to be with his family. He was always very chill, monotone but extremely nice, polite and courteous- even when I inadvertently got him a parking ticket.

I had to drop off something at the set and return to the studio very quickly. I pulled into the set parking lot and got out of my car. When I got back, Heath’s rental SUV was parked behind me. “Fuck, I’ve got to get this guy who just got nominated for an Academy Award to move his car.”

He was totally cool with it, ran out there with me and moved his car to the street. He of course parked in a spot where they were about to do street cleaning. I tried to tell him that he shouldn’t park there, but he just did and went back inside to play with his baby.

Of course, the studio called and said I needed to stay on set until this other paperwork was finished. I had to sit there and watch the parking lady come out and give Heath a parking ticket. I wasn’t sure what to do. I ran inside and tried to get him to come out to move again but he was on the live set, and I wasn’t about to stop production for this thing.

Once word got to Heath that his car was getting a ticket, I was hiding. I wasn’t sure if he was going to be the same nice guy. I walked around outside, trying to avoid any contact with him or Michelle.

Heath calmly walked out, grabbed the ticket and didn’t care. I’m sure he had more than enough money to pay for the ticket, but he had such a cool manner about it when I saw him later, he didn’t even mention it or look at me cross. He just said ‘hello’ in his low gruff voice and went about his business.

I always thought back to that as a sign of what a cool guy he is. Was. Damn.

Warner Bros. was a buzz with talk about the death yesterday. He just finished Dark Knight for us and we are promoting Heath and his Joker character all over the internet and movie theatres. Now, what do you do right? Do you keep going with your dark ad campaign showing Heath in a pasty ghost white makeup talking about ‘Why so serious?”

It’s scary to me that he’s one year younger than me and now he’s gone. It certainly makes you think, at any time, you could get struck down.

It’s a sad day. My regards to Heath’s family, especially Michelle and Matilda.

School Dreams

2008-01-22T09:39:00.001-08:00

----Not pictured, the creepy new guy who looks to be almost 30 years old. But man, was he good in that High School Musical.

I had a terrible dream this morning, one I knew I was going to have. It’s a dream that I have quite often, but one that always leaves me in a bad mood.

I always have these dreams that I have to go back to school for some reason, like I didn’t finish some class I didn’t know that I had or I failed some final I thought I passed. Never the less, I’m there back in school again.

But I’m older than all the other kids by like 15 years, and everyone knows it. I ride up on my skateboard and they look at me like, “What’s the old guy doing on the skateboard?”

Then I try to go to my first class but I realize, I don’t know my schedule. I don’t know which class to go to at all. this usualy leads me to be the crazy old guy who walks around asking everyone where I'm supposed to go.

This morning, I ended up going into a class room I thought I had to go into. MATH CLASS. I hate math. I suck at math. And of course, that's the course my sleep brain wanted me to go into. Stupid brain.

So, I walk in late and everyone looks at me like I’m the old crazy guy. I can’t find a seat and then I do, by the biggest nerd in class. It’s the two of us outcasts, sitting away from the rest of the group. Every once and a while, they turn and look at us and laugh.

Most of the other times I dream about going back to school, I’m panicked because I don’t know how I’m going to graduate, that I have bills to pay that I can’t pay and I’m so behind. Or I can’t find parking and I know I’m going to be late for a class that I’m not even sure where it is or what class. Or I end up walking the halls without a hall pass, trying to find the principal’s office to get me out of this class that made me become a student again. Or I have a huge test in a class I didn't know I was even enrolled in.

LAME.

The reason why I knew I was going to have this dream was that my girlfriend had her first day of school today. She graduates after this semester, hopefully I won’t have this dream after she graduates. Although I'm pretty sure I'll have this dream for the rest of my life.

It’s weird, I knew I was going to dream about going to school, and BOOM I did. It was a self fulfilling prophecy. How come I can’t think that I am going to dream about being rich, with super strength and the ability to fly and then actually dream it?

Man that would be great. Until then, it's me being the oldest senior in high school.

Super Weekend Fun Bomb

2008-01-18T13:24:00.000-08:00

Sorry I haven’t posted in the last two days. I was feeling under the weather and took some time off for work. I did get a lot of writing done, but it was on my script, not my blog.

Here are some interesting things that interest me…

-Cloverfield comes out today. Why is that interesting? Well, I want to see it. Its either going to be great or the dumbest movie of all time. There is no gray area in this one. The more I see previews for it, the more I’m worried. I had a convo with my lady, Dayn and Chef Mike about this one, they all want to just know what the damn thing looks like. Plus I’m intrigued that it was shot so cheap (I think the budget was 30m). To pull off something like that, you need some serious invention and smarts. Bad Robot has that, so this could be very good.

-Three day Weekend. I get Monday off from work, which is great since I get to shoot some stuff with my friends. We are going to do a DV short movie, each of us directing one about blind dates. I have really awesome blind date idea with a great twist at the end, I can’t wait to shoot it. When I get it done, I’ll post it on this blog.

-Working out. It interests me enough to mention it, but not enough to actually do it. I need to get off my fat ass and make it to the gym. But every morning I wake up, I just feel like sleeping in. I guess that’s just me, not one else ever feels like that. Plus, I have to start running (see hate running column) so I don’t die during this half marathon. It doesn’t help that the lady next door at work is super healthy and mentions all this health crap to me, making me feel even more guilty… which leads me to…

-Eating right. Instead of working out, I’ve been trying to eat better. Tons of salads have gone through this system of mine. Plus, we got his diet food book from the Biggest Loser and tried a recipe last night for this baked pasta dish and it was so good, Chef Mike is going to serve it to his old ass clients at work. I guess you can eat right and still enjoy it! (as long as its small portions)

-Going to Phoenix. My sister is flying out to Phoenix from Michigan to see my brother and my new nephew. She bugs me every single day to get work off, when my boss is super stressed out right now and I have to tell him that I’m going in for an interview for another job. Moo, if you’re reading this, back off me dude. I’ll ask him as soon as I can!

-Anyone here any good new music lately? I need something new, I’m driving myself nuts by listening to Radiohead, the Beatles and Bob Dylan all day long.

Well, that’s it for now. Enjoy the three day weekend and be safe.

PS= I’m working on an NBA column for Tracey Phillips blog site, when I get it up, I’ll link it here.

Rock Band

2008-01-15T10:23:00.000-08:00

On Friday night, I had a bunch of people over for a party like no other. A ‘Rock Band’ party.

You’ve never heard of a Rock Band Party, that’s fine I made it up. Well, probably not, I’m sure there are plenty of nerds out there that do this sort of thing all the time.

Rock Band is a video game where you play guitar, bass, drums and sing along to your favorite songs. Of course, you don’t play real instruments, but at least they’re not completely fake either. Playing the guitar and bass are like tapping buttons on a large long guitar shaped controller, but the drums are surprising real and require drum playing timing and you have to really sing, hit notes and have the same cadence as the original song.

When I set out to have some people over to play this game, I didn’t think anyone would show up. But more and more people came over, ready to belt out ‘Creep’ and other songs. Everyone seemed to really enjoy the total nerdiness of pretending to be in a band together, giving high fives, coming up with fictional band names, pumping up the crowd with impromptu vocal performances.

Nothing brings together a group of people like pretending to be a band. We rocked until the wee hours of the night.

Let me tell you, it’s a freaking addictive game. I wanted to play the shit out of it after the party, but soon I had to return the game to Sarah (I don’t own Rock Band but I want to… BAD).

Next time you are looking for a good reason to have a bunch of people at your house getting drunk, signing off key, and pretending that they know how to play instruments; check out Rock Band.

Late to Work

2008-01-14T10:06:00.000-08:00

---I knew it was a bad sign when I saw this... bad sign.

I woke up this morning knowing that there was something I was supposed to do today but wasn’t sure what. I know I had an interview, so that has to be it right? No, there’s something else. Take out the dog? No. There’s something I’m supposed to do! But what?

Oil change? Yeah, I’ve got to get that done, but that’s not it.

Screw it, maybe I’m just worried about this interview. So, I shaved, showered, got ready and ran out the door to go work.

But as I drove up to the lot, I remembered what it was. I was supposed to come work 30 minutes early so that my boss could have a meeting. FUCK ME!!!

I hate being late. HATE IT. Especially if its to something that could get me in trouble if I’m late, like work today.

Of course, my boss wasn’t happy. In fact, I didn’t even get to tell him my excuse for being late, he wouldn’t hear it.

Now, my mind can’t stop thinking about being late. I really want to write something funny and interesting this morning but damn if I can’t stop thinking that I shouldn’t have taken that extra five minutes in the shower, or the ten minutes when I got back into bed with my girl or the twenty minutes to shave my legs.

Damn, what can I do to make this up to the ol’ boss man? Buy him a cake? Flowers? Make him macaroni art? Write him a poem? Wash his car?

Well, I give up. Screw him if he’s mad. What’s the worst that could happen? I could get fired… oh yeah that would be bad. Crap.

Wish me luck on my interview, I may need this job more than I thought.

Ten Things that are wrong with the world-

2008-01-11T10:13:00.000-08:00

----At least two thirds of our miseries spring from human stupidity, human malice and those great motivators and justifiers of malice and stupidity…
-ALDOUS HUXLEY

Let me paraphrase the above quote- “The world is filled with stupid, mean people who make living harder.”

I’m surrounded by the stupidity, confused by the malice. It’s time I make a change. I offer you my list of ten things that are wrong with the world and quick solutions.

10- Reality TV. This one is pretty obvious. It’s dumbing down America, taking our attention spans and smashing them. It’s making celebrities of whores who only desire in life is to be famous.

I know I’m hypocritical for writing this, I worked on Survivor for Christ’s sake. But I never watched the show, even when I worked on it. And I did it for a paycheck, not for love of the content (I guess I’m the whore.)

Solution- Stop watching these programs. I know it’s hard, it’s like trying not to rubber neck when driving past a car accident. They’re so bad, that they’re almost good. Almost. But it’s the Lowest common denominator television, a step above watching a public execution. If you see “I Love New York 4” pop on your channel guide, don’t click on it. Watch the History channel or rent a movie you morons.

9-“Celebetards”- This one is almost an extension of number 10 with a catch. Everyone is so obsessed with what Britney, her sister, her friends and every other slut is doing. What is Brad and Angelina doing? How dare Jennifer Love Hewitt have thunder thighs? Is the High School Musical chick really naked? (I have to admit, I was curious about this one) The worst one- What are the chicks from the Hills doing? (who the fuck are these people? Honestly!)

They’re just people, same as you and me; but prettier, wealthier, and have paparazzi following them at all hours of the day.

I’m sorry, these people aren’t important to our lives. Do we really need to know all this shit about them to make our lives better? Fuck no. If America took half of the time it does following these celebrity retards and instead did charity work, we would be in some sort of utopia right now.

Solution- Simple. Stop fucking following these people’s actions! Stop pseudo stalking them by looking at Perez Hilton! Stop purchasing Us magazine! Stop making these people’s lives seem more important than everyone else’s!

8- Fatty Fast Food- I love fast food. Love it. Eat it once a day if I can, just because I’m strapped for time.

But what the fuck, why hasn’t someone come out with a fast food restaurant filled with healthy, low fat food that’s cheap and easy? And I’m not talking about Subway, fuck that shit up its stupid ass.

There are tons of people that are on ‘diets’, why not make a restaurant to caters to this market?

Solution- Another simple one, make a fucking healthy fast food chain. Am I going to have to be the one to quit my position and do this? Come on Mr. McDonald’s, you’ve got more money than God. Give me a place called “Healthsmart” or some gay name like that and make it healthy, tasty and fast!

Which leads me to my next topic…

7- Fat people- And I don’t mean people slightly over weight, that’s fine and in fact I encourage it. Fuck our society body issues and views of what is good looking. Have a little fat, its sexy to me.

The people I’m talking about are the seriously obese people who eat all the time. I understand gland problems, I get that. But saying you have a gland problem and then eating 5 Big Macs and fries isn’t a gland problem, it’s a fucking eating problem.

We have two super fat people at where I work. They look so uncomfortable and sad all the time, heavy breathing and lumbering down the hall. And I’ve seen both of them eat, fuck me, they gorge themselves.

Solution- Round up all super fat people and kill them. Just kidding. Another easy one, eat portions like the rest of us you fat assholes. I’m not saying quit cold turkey, but cut back a whopper every time you eat.

6- Over produced music- I just heard the new Janet Jackson single. Ouch. Fuck, what the hell happened?

Sometime in the last 8 years, pop music decided that it needed to sanitize everything, make every song sound alike, treat everyone’s voice with tons of studio magic, (aka pitch and tone shifting to make everything perfect) and not try anything new.

Plus, no one plays instruments anymore. Its drum machines and programs, that’s not talent!

Someone needs to come along and hit America in the face with some good hard core music. Nirvana comes to mind. Just when music was at an all time low, grunge hit and made popular music good again.

Solution- Give me enough money and time to make a good album with people who are good at what they do. Then give me some more money to make more music like this. Repeat until we wipe out the rest of the bullshit.

5- Video game addicts- My brother used to be one, I know several others. People that would rather play 65 hours of video games a week than interact with the real world. I understand the appeal of videogames, they give you a chance to do things that you couldn’t possibly do in real life without consequence, like shoot cops. But have some moderation people! Try mixing in some exercise. Or maybe make a friend or two.

Solution- This one is a toughie. How the hell do you convince an entire generation of kids to put down their controllers? Give them incentives and goals like in video games but push the ‘real life’ aspect of it. If you get a real job, you can have real money. If you play real sports, you can get real life health. If you get a real girlfriend, you can get real laid.

4- The term metrosexual- If I want to dress nice, I’m either gay or a ‘metrosexual’. Fuck you. I’m not trying to dress gay, I’m trying to dress not homeless. When did looking nice become a strictly gay thing? And metrosexual is the worst word of all time, it implies that you are gay for looking nice. Again a hearty fuck you.

You don’t see people who work business jobs saying to each other, “Man, you look gay in that suit.” No, they don’t even notice because you are supposed to look nice. Can’t we adopt that policy throughout the rest of the world?

Solution- Stop saying metrosexual! Wipe that shit from the vernacular. Tell someone they look nice and thank them for having enough self respect to take care of themselves.

3- Text messages and IM- This type of communication is fine for quick notes but is the absolute worst for trying to convey any feelings or emotions.

I’m sure all of us have had a fight or argument through these communication means before. Sucks right? Everything is taken out of context, or read wrong, there are no ways of expressing nonverbal communication. If you’re joking, you’re in trouble. People will read that the wrong way every time.

Solution- If you have something serious to talk about, call someone or meet them. Simple I know but everyone gets caught in this bullshit and then things that are written are held over your head for the rest of time, since written word is recalled better than spoken ones for some reason. If someone tries to engage you in a fight by these means, tell them to stop and try again when they can physically speak.

2- Creativity- I used to think America ran out of good ideas. I’m wrong. Yet again.

We aren’t out of creativity, we’re afraid of taking risks. We’re afraid of trying anything new. We’re afraid of failing.

It’s everywhere. Movie studios won’t make movies unless they have a built in audience from an existing property; ie TV show, toy line or remake of an existing movie. Music companies won’t sign acts that they don’t know how to market, they need to have a band that has a sound that’s close to a proven commodity already out there. TV shows don’t come out unless they have a tried and true formula.

The trickle down effect is that artists now cater to these companies and dumb down their material to try to make sure that they make money to eat.

Solution- Take a chance. Please super mega conglomerate companies. Just try something new out and see if we like it. If we don’t, it’s a small blip on your financial forecast. Artists, keep your voices and push the limits.

1-Anger- Everyone seems angry all the time. I know I fall victim to it. But it’s the reason why all of our problems exist.

We get angry at every inconvenience, slight or problem we have. People slam on their horns constantly in traffic. People yell at customer service people who are just trying to do their job. People want to punch out people they have never met because they accidentally bumped into them.

Solution- Relax. Take a deep breath. Take a step back. Doesn’t that feel better? Everything isn’t so bad after all. If everyone would just relax and not take things so personally, the world would be a much better place.

So there it is, my top ten list of things to do to make this world better. I hope that you will help me in my endeavor.

My friend's new blog

2008-01-11T10:05:00.001-08:00

Hey gang-

Please check out my boy's new blog, its freaking funny and he's a good egg.

Its about sports and I may contribute some material for it. Should be fun...

http://deartracyp.blogspot.com

J-

My friend's new blog

2008-01-11T10:05:00.000-08:00

Hey gang-

Please check out my boy's new blog, its freaking funny and he's a good egg.

Its about sports and I may contribute some material for it. Should be fun...

J-

I hate running

2008-01-10T10:13:00.000-08:00

---This chick hates running also. Now someone has to get shot and fix this trick a drink.

I promised my sister that I would run a half marathon with her this year. Man, what a fucking mistake that was.

I’ve never liked running. I hated running laps in PE. I hated running laps when I was playing sports. I hated running from the police.

I planned on starting to run everyday after New Year’s. So far I have gone a total of 0 times.

Why?

For one, I’m lazy.

Secondly, when am I supposed to run? It feels like every free moment is taken with either-

-Something I have to do but don’t mind doing because it is part of my master plan for the year (finish my 4th draft of my new script, finish the audio on my short movie)

-Something I don’t want to do (go to work, other crap that I won’t list here so I don’t get in trouble with someone)

-Or something else that I want to do (play guitar, read, watch movies, smoke pot)

Third, I just plain fucking hate running. Hate it more than shaving. I hate it more than ham. I hate it more than my old roommate. That’s a lot of hate right there.

I just don’t get running. What’s fun about running? There is no sport to it, you’re just … running. There are no balls, no competition unless it is a race (which I won’t participate in because I will lose).

I take it I’m supposed to having fun during my asthma attack from running on crowded, smog infested LA streets, or by being a hamster running on a treadmill with nothing to look at but a muted ESPNNEWS. Fuck that.

But I made the commitment to do this thing, so what the shit do I do now?

I guess I have to run at some point, but the half marathon isn’t for another 8 months. What is the right amount of time to train for a half marathon? A month? Two months? 8 months?

Someone please help me? Give me strong longs and legs!

Ghosts

2008-01-09T11:58:00.000-08:00

I see dead people. Or I’ve seen dead people. I don’t currently see any dead people, that would make writing this blog a lot harder.

Just like that terrible M. Night mess, I think only some people can see dead people. I’m unfortunately one of them.

The first time I saw a ghost was in my old house when I was very young. I was convinced that the house was haunted for months (or was it years?) before I saw one. I would have terrible nightmares (maybe due to the ghosts?) and after I would wake up and I would pace through the house for hours on end.

One night, during my pacing, I walked into the kitchen. There was someone sitting there, staring at me, sitting in a dining room chair turned completely away from the table. I yelled bloody murder and got my mom to investigate. When we went back into the kitchen, the dining room chair was turned and placed back where it normally rested. I tried to convince my mom that the chair wasn’t under that table, it was pulled out but she didn’t believe me or in ghosts at all.

She soon would change her mind.

We stayed with my aunt in her 200 hundred year old West Virginia home. IN THE ATTIC. You talk about fucking scary, that place was just a little less scary than the Lookout Hotel but Elm Street had nothing on this attic. We didn’t sleep the entire night, my brother, mom and I stayed awake looking at passing shadows in the darkness. The strange howling was a little too much to take. The next day we were like zombies, no sleep and scared that something might catch us while we ate Cheerios in the Kitchen two stories below Hell’s attic.

Then there was the time when we were at a retreat for my fraternity. The retreat was in the middle of B.F.E., in the scary woods at an old camping ground. A bunch of us guys went out for a late night snack into the mess hall. When we were standing there making hot cocoa and eating cereal, I looked up into the kitchen. There was someone watching us. I thought maybe it was Bradford screwing around.

But then I turned, Bradford was standing right next to me. In fact, everyone was there with us, who the hell is in the kitchen? Suddenly, everyone got a chill up their spine and a feeling that we need to run as fast as humanly possible out of the mess hall. After we stopped running about a half mile away, we all confirmed our fears, there was a ghost watching us from the dark recesses of the kitchen.

After this ghost sighting, my friend Kyle was obsessed with ghosts and haunted houses. He convinced me (I don’t know how exactly) to go with him to a haunted hotel on the US border with Mexico and spend the night in the most haunted room there. After we got to this God forsaken empty hotel and as soon as we walked inside, a feeling of dread and fear fell over us, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, I shit you not. We met the caretaker of the Hotel, a crazy old man who was nearly as scary as the hotel.

After he left the hotel, I realized that this most be the most scary place in the world, much scarier than another ghost scare I had before. It was old, creepy and filled with random scary shit like broken dolls missing eyes and antique photos of long dead people. As we walked through the hotel, I gave an account of one of the dead people we read about to Kyle and his video camera. Suddenly, there was a terrible BANG that resonated throughout the entire hotel, shaking the foundation. I turned to Kyle and we both went ghost white. We ran out of the hotel and stood in the front yard, wondering if we would really spend the night there.

After eating dinner at a local restaurant, we decided that we came all this way and paid, we should stay the night there. We sat up most of the night, playing games and watching TV and trying to not to think about the crazy noises that were happening all over the house. Eventually, I passed out, although I wasn’t sure how (I think the ghosts wanted me to pass out so they could fuck with Kyle).

I went through the night sleeping ghost free. Kyle didn’t have the same fate. He would wake up cold, with all of the covers magically tucked under his torso like you would wrap a corpse in a burial shroud. He’d fall asleep and then he would wake up hot, with every single cover and sheet pulled off the bed and laying on the floor. Then he woke up once to a deadly smell of sulfur and fish, piercing his nose. Freaky huh?

He pulled out the video camera during this and video taped the dark room. The only light was at the crack of the door. Suddenly something walked past the light, darkening the room and then disappeared.

The next morning we met the care taker again and he told us a hundred stories that make ours sound silly. Apparently, devil worshipers used the hotel for sacrifices after it was abandoned.

And even though we asked to stay in the most haunted room, the guy told us the room we stayed in was the second most. When we asked why he didn’t give us the other room, he said, “No one stays in Grandma’s room.” Apparently, that’s the room that all the sacrifices took place in as well as a 1910’s grandma who killed her grandkids and herself. Every night at three AM a fake koo koo clock with no gears or clock attached rings out and all sorts of random shit happens in the room, including the screams of children and blood pooling on the floor.

Scary right?

I can honestly say after that experience that very few things scare me. Now if I could just get over my fear of heights.

Top Ten Things to Do in the New Year

2008-01-08T12:55:00.000-08:00

Everyone I’ve been talking to is upset, bored and depressed. For the first time in six months, I’m really happy. Why? I’m not sure. I think the break changed my outlook on things.

Plus, I’m excited about the new opportunities and things to do to in the New Year. Here’s a list of ten new things to do during the New Year.

10- Steal something. Doesn’t have to be much but steal something. Perhaps a candy bar from a store. Or maybe some jewelry from a house. Or maybe a couple hundred million dollars from investors. After you do steal something, you’ll get this great feeling that you are sticking to the man or something. Such a rush!

9- See a play. When was the last time you saw a play you lazy bastard? There are so many great actors tolling away out there and you just ignore them. Shame on you.

8- Go whale watching. I’ve never done this myself (unless you count looking at whales pass by the cruise boat) but it sounds pretty rad right? Whales are beautiful, the open sea is fun, and you might get sea sick, which is always fun.

7- Have an all you can eat contest. Take a bunch of your friends to a buffet and see who can eat the most food in one sitting. It’s fucking funny as shit to do and plus, you get to feel sick for the rest of the day, which is always fun. Plus you can fall into a food coma like after Thanksgiving.

6- Pick a fight with someone. Find someone you don’t really like and pick a fight with them. It doesn’t have to be a fist fight but that might help. Tell them exactly how you feel and let ‘em have it. It’s a great stress reliever.

5- Play on a playground. Find a great playground (not one at McDonald’s, the kids pee in the ball pits, but that would work also) and let loose. Ride the slide. Climb the monkey bars. Swing. Do all the things you used to do but don’t have recess now to do.

4- Help out an old lady. Preferably who would like help. Running up to random ladies and trying to help them may freak them out. But then again, that might also be a lot of fun. Scratch 'help out' and put 'freak out'.

3- Paint something. Make a crappy abstract painting and say its your master work. People will love the painting and tell you that you’re a genius. It works for me all the time!

2- Try out a new music style. Go to a concert or buy a CD or itunes of someone you have never heard of. If it sucks, ah well. But if its good, you have a new band to listen to. Good times.

1-Get drunk before noon. On a random Sunday morning, wake up and do a bunch of shots and drink some beers. Doesn’t matter if you‘re by yourself or with some friends, just get shitfaced. Laugh a ton. Go to the grocery store and slur your speech. Make a fool of yourself. Pass out at one PM and dream nice drunk dreams.

If you try these ten things, hopefully you’ll get out of the doldrums. If not, try drugs. That seems to work.

Hamburglar

2008-01-07T10:57:00.000-08:00

Being poor sucks. Being hungry sucks. Being poor and hungry sucks a ton. Being poor, hungry and having your last meal stolen from you by a dog sucks the most.

When my friend Kyle was student teaching, he had about five dollars to last him all week for food. What did Kyle do with that five dollars? He bought 5 99 cent cheeseburgers from Wendy’s of course!

It was a genius idea. He would eat a hamburger a day for 5 days. Not exactly nutrious but it works.

He kept the burgers in our fridge, where he would take his dinner with us every night. Friday, after a long day of dealing with teenagers, he dragged himself into our house and microwaved his meal for the night. He had the worst day of his young teaching career. He openly wondering if God was punishing him for all the bad things he had done in his life.

Kyle put the burger down on the table and went to go get a glass of water.

This is when my old dog Sammy came ran into the room. Sammy (God rest her fat soul) was the biggest, fattest, most out of shape dog ever. She was really a pathetic creature, who only lived to eat. She loved hamburgers. Loved ‘em.

Kyle wasn’t watching Sammy but I was. It was like Sammy had been planning this caper for the whole week, studying Kyle’s eating habits and ways, waiting for the right moment. It was time.

Sammy ran into the room, jumped up to the table and pulled the hamburger out of the wrapper in one motion. It was the most graceful move that fat old Sammy ever made. Maybe of all dog time.

Kyle walked back in as I was dying of laughter. The look on his face was priceless. He was heartbroken, angry and hungry all at the same time.

I went and took Kyle to get a new burger on me, and I even bought him some fries for the trouble. It was a costly 2 dollars plus tax for me (who was also broke and hungry). But man it was worth it to see the look on his face and to hear him blame God for his bad luck.

How I broke my arm

2008-01-04T10:49:00.000-08:00

---Don't try this at home. Please.

My parents have never heard the truth to how I broke my arm. I told them I broke it playing basketball, which is a partial truth. I was sort of kind of playing basketball. If you count jumping off a table to dunk as playing basketball than yes I was playing basketball.

When I was 15, I was with some friends shooting hoops inside a Mormon church (if you didn’t know this, every Mormon church has an indoor basketball hoop) when some one (probably me) had the genius idea to jump off a table so that we could dunk. At the time, it was a Eureka moment to end all Eureka moments. Why didn’t we think about this earlier!?

The first couple of times we attempted dunks, the table was right next to the rim, the degree of difficulty small and the chances of getting hurt were very slim. But then I had a great idea, why don’t we get running start, jump off the table from much further away and make some monster slams? Again, a great idea at first, but a really bad idea in retrospect.

I thought I could get a running start like the Phoenix Suns mascot the Gorilla, run from one side of the court to the other and slam that baby down. Which I did, actually. It was a pretty impressive run, table plant and jump, and not a bad dunk… but here’s where the problem came in…

I had so much forward momentum from the run across the court that I felt the rim giving out. I didn’t want to break it, since we were in a church, we would have to explain how our little white selves broke a ten foot rim. So I let go of the rim… another bad idea.

My momentum sent my feet out, stretching my body parallel to the ground. I landed on my left side, or more specifically, my left hand. The break somehow made my finger tips touch my forearm, bending in a way I knew was not supposed to happen and was most definitely bad for me.

As I lay there on the ground, one friend counted out like a boxing ref, giving me a ten count as I yelled in pain. That fucking jerk. Anyway…

I went home that night and showed my arm to step dad and told him that I fell down playing basketball. He said that it was probably just strained, even though it was clearly three times its normal size and I wasn’t able to move any fingers. I would normally go to my mother for help on stuff like this by my mom wasn’t supposed to get home until the next morning from a night work trip.

That night, I didn’t sleep a wink. I was seething with pain and anger, take me to the freaking hospital already!

The next morning, I laid on the couch bleary eyed when my mom came home. As soon as she saw my arm, we went to the doctor, who confirmed my thoughts that my arm was broken (and threw in a few torn ligaments for the trouble) and then gave me the fun pleasure of resetting my arm, which had already started to heal back together the wrong way. There’s no fun like breaking growing bones.

My doctor found it hard to believe that I broke my arm that badly from falling during a game. I stuck by my story, even though it was a lie. Why did I? I don’t know. Why do kids lie when they are younger? Fear that you will be grounded. That’s it pure plain and simple.

I hated having the cast on and I missed a ton of basketball games because of my arm. I eventually cut it off myself like a young idiot, so that I could play ball. My arm healed back wrong so now my left wrist has a big bumpy bone instead of a smooth one. Serves me right. I shouldn’t have lied. Now I have a physical reminder of it.

World’s Worst Comedians

2008-01-03T10:04:00.001-08:00

Where have you gone Richard Pryor?

When my girlfriend asked me to check out her friend’s first attempt at stand up comedy, I figured how bad could it be. I had no idea that it would be one of the most uncomfortable nights in recent memory.

New Year’s Night (aka the night you try to get over the worst hangover of the year) we went to the Comedy Store for this amateur stand up night. I’d had actually been to this event once a couple months ago and it wasn’t too bad. It was certainly entertaining enough and only a few people bombed.

But New Year’s night was different. I don’t know if all the comedians were still drunk (or on Crystal Meth like one comedian) but damn, it was tough to sit there.

For the first time in years, I was so embarrassed for other people that it made me feel embarrassed.

The host of the event bombed terribly, I couldn’t tell if what she was trying to say was even comedy at all, just really boring stories. If the host bombs, that’s a bad sign. It was the harbinger of terrible things on the horizon. One after one, each person took a shit on the stage. One guy (the Crystal Meth guy) could have very easily been a homeless guy they pulled off the street and asked to say a few words to us about how shitty his life was.

Two comedians stood out in my mind. The first one was so nervous, he was trying to read jokes off of note cards that he laid on the floor. His comedic delivery to us the audience was like Osama Bin Laden telling American jokes to Congress. By the end of his act, he was literally fighting off tears to get through it all. Ouch. It made me feel like crying just watching him.

The second guy got on stage and didn’t say a word. For six minutes. Six minutes of silence, staring at this crazy child molester looking guy. It was so awkward that it hurt my face and brain. There were a few uncomfortable laughs, but for the most part, no one said a word.

And this event was never ending, my girlfriend’s friend told us to be there early and then he didn’t go on until 3 hours later. 3 hours of excruciatingly bad comedy; nails on the chalk board of comedy.

Finally when my girlfriend’s friend did his thing I was ready to slit my wrists to end the agony. The friend wasn’t too bad but in comparison to those other acts, he could have punched me in the nose and it would have been funnier than the other comedians.

After the friend ended, I ran out of the room before another act could step up. As I left, I passed by a well known stand up guy who was working the real stage next door. I wanted to beg him to go the amateur night and teach, but I knew it was futile. You can led a camel to water, but you can’t get it to be funny.

Holiday Recap and Resolutions

2008-01-02T09:25:00.000-08:00

So, maybe Christmas only partly sucks. It was nice to have a break and relax for a couple of days before I get hit with another wall of adult problems and responsibilities. When I woke up today and realized I had to go to work, it was like someone punched me in the stomach. Man, can’t I get paid to clean my apartment and hang out? That’s not a job? It is to me.

In the epic game for balance in the value of giving and receiving, I only lost by a couple hundred dollars, taking me from poor to super poor. I have a shit load of credit card stuff to pay off, leading me to the need for a shitty second job. Yep, a second job. I feel like I’m a single mom or something. What the fuck? I have two degrees people! Why do I need to wait tables to survive? Fucking LA, this wouldn’t happen any place else (except San Fran, NY, and London).

Because of my lack of funds and other factors, I’m starting a top ten list of new year’s resolutions and posting them here so that you can nail me on them when I don’t follow through.

1- Spend less money. Sounds easy enough right? I wish.

2- Get a second job. I hate this one.

3- Get a new real job. Hopefully one that pays enough so that I don’t have to have the second job.

4- Get Tag, my short movie, into as many film festivals that I can.

5- Run. A lot. I told my sister I would run a half marathon at the end of the year. I guess I’ll have to figure out how to run period, let alone for a bunch of miles.

6- Play more guitar. I’m excited about this one.

7- Sell a script. Don’t know if this one could happen or not.

8- Pay off my credit card. (see second job).

9- See my nephew as much as possible, while he’s still too cute to piss me off.

10- Write more blog entries.

There they are. I hope that you all had a super fantastic xmas and new year. Tons of love and keep reading!

Christmas Sucks.

2007-12-21T10:36:00.000-08:00

Christmas is LAME. LAME in all CAPS. I know that people love them some X-Mas, but I feel like it’s a bunch of stupid traditions and capitalism meant to boost 4th quarter sales numbers for the US economy.

Call me the Grinch or Scrooge. I’m all that times 40 this year.

Yes Christmas, that magic time where people-

-Max out their credit cards

-Buy other people they don’t like trinkets just so they can be social and not look like assholes, even though 99% of people are just that, dumb assholes

-Get stressed out because they don’t get their Year End Bonus (which just happened to me. I now feel like Clark Fucking Griswald, my boss just gave me a gift card and said, “Oh yeah, I forgot to give you a bonus check.” What the hell am I supposed to say to that? “Go get your check book?” I’m screwed. Maybe I can buy Christmas gifts with the Bloomingdales gift card he gave me.)

-Pretend to like their family members.

I know that I’m supposed to feel like there is some sort of spirit inside me, making me want to be with my family and spread cheer throughout the countryside by spending crazy amounts of cash. Sorry, that’s not me, not now. My Motto- Life’s a bitch and then you die. Not exactly Rudolph and Frosty material.

I don’t want to spend every last penny from my tiny bank account and the last thousand on my credit limit for everyone presents. I’m fucking broke bitches! You guys are rich, buy yourself something cool. Don’t make me feel cheap because I don’t have enough cash to buy you something. Yet, in keeping with tradition, I need to spend my rent money to buy a shit load of gifts so that I wake up after New Years broke and thinking I need to pull a bank job so I don’t evicted. But don’t complain J- IT’S TRADITION!

And even if I buy a gift for someone, if I don’t spend at least a hundred bucks, the gift is most likely going to be something they don’t like or won’t use. Shit, most people’s gifts get used once the day of Christmas and then tossed aside and eventually tossed out.

And shouldn’t there be equality for what you’re gifting and receiving? If I give a kick ass expensive gift that I put a ton of thought into (for example the one I gave to my boss, fucking crap) you need to make sure you come correct on my gift bitches. I’m broke and I’m busting my ass to spend a buttfuck ton of money so that you won’t throw out my gift and you give me a gift card! WTF!?!?!?! This fucking gifting thing is redick. Fo reala!

And it’s not the gifting/broke thing that bugs me the most. It’s the supposed HOLIDAY part.

You have to spend time with your family for the holiday, even if that means you must drive or fly (in post 9/11 holiday airport hell) to the ends of the Earth to see them. That sounds like a nice relaxing start and end to anyone’s holiday.

I’ll be driving to Phoenix (instead of dealing with those lines) Sunday morning for my lovely holiday with my lovely family.

Is this what I really want to do with my time off? Hell no. I’d rather stay at home and panhandle for spare change to supplement my piteous income, but I don’t have a choice. I just really want a day to hang out in my apartment by myself, write and play guitar. Is that too much to ask? It should be my holiday right?

See in there lies the problem. If this is really supposed to be a ‘holiday’ or ‘vacation’, where is the rest and relaxation? Where is the stress free environment? Where’s the fun?

I need a serious battery recharge, and I really need to get some writing done. Too bad people don’t pay me for this blog, hahahahaha, like that would ever happen.

Until they get their shit straight with the sell-out commercial, rush around and feel stress, count me out.

PS- I think this will be the last post for a little while with Christmas coming up. I might sneak one in at ‘home’ for my ‘restful vacation’ of last minute shopping, annoying family members and driving in shitty traffic. Hooray!

In Limbo

2007-12-20T13:32:00.000-08:00

Kevin awoke with a pain in his head. A pain that he couldn’t shake. His entire field of vision was clouded, his eyes felt like burning coals inside that box he called his face.

He licked the palm of his hand and held it up to his left ear. His ears had been ringing for days, a constant dull tone that muffled even the sounds of his own body writhing on the floor. He wished to hear a sign of something outside or around him but it was futile. He hadn’t heard a peep of the tiniest sound from anyone or anything but himself.

When his sight returned to him, as if it was a gift given to him for a short time, he crawled on his belly to the only thing he could look at in the darkness. A shaft of light, no bigger than a pencil, lay on the floor before him. The sharp cutting aches pierced his spine as he slowly moved, inch by inch, minute by minute, until he laid to rest with his face cast in the dull light.

While he lay there, he hoped that the light would bring some warmth to his body, which had been uncontrollably shivering, but it wasn’t in the cards. Kevin wondered where the illumination was coming from, why it was there and what he did to deserve such company. He wondered a lot that day (or was it days?) that he lay in the alabaster glow of his only friend left, a sliver of artificial sodium light.

Mostly he wondered how he ended up in here, this trap, this cage, this prison. He knew that he had bigger plans and even bigger dreams for his life than slowly dying in room where the ceiling was only two feet from the floor. But yet there he was, lying there in that strange place, confused.

Kevin tried to speak, but his words choked out into an incomprehensible slur of grunts and sighs. He reached up for his throat, his larynx was a mutilated mess; cartilage and sinew bent in odd shapes beneath his weak skin. But it’s just the same, there wasn’t anyone there to hear him, nor would anyone want to hear what he had to say.

Besides, everyone else was there with him, even if they didn’t know it.

He always wondered what the meaning of life was and more specifically what the meaning of his life was, but now none of that mattered. He figured he didn’t have much longer.

He slowly turned his body and more importantly his head to try to peer into the source of the light. He finally aligned himself right under the shaft, his left eye blinded by the dull light that seemed intense in comparison to the oily blackness in Kevin’s cage. He thought he might be able to see outside, to the world that he once knew, once took for granted, but could see nothing but the burning rays in his left eye and the dark in his right.

So he closed both eyes and stopping searching, stopped trying. It would all be done soon, he hoped. It would all come crashing down, running into him, sucking the air from his lungs.

He remembered a vacant night from his past. It was a hot summer day, just after dusk. He had been sprinting through the meadows, chasing after lightning bugs and catching them in an old jam jar. Suddenly in the distance, a bolt of lightning struck a large oak tree, cracking it in half and starting it on fire. Kevin stood there awestruck, accidentally releasing his captive prey from their glass cage. From his perspective, the green dots of the bugs danced in front of that orange fire playfully. He smiled, a sight he would never forget.

And with that, it was all gone.

Michigan Time Warp

2007-12-19T11:26:00.000-08:00

Going to Michigan is like going back in time.

Michigan is locked in its past, its traditions, its old fashioned ways. Everything seems like America, but in the late 80’s. Not that there isn’t all the modern trappings of American society; there are strip malls, computers, Starbucks on every corner etc. But the people and rules are from the past.

People are… wait for it… friendly. You see someone on the street, they say hello to you. I know you’re asking yourself, “What? How? And you don’t know these people at all before hand?” Yeah, I’m surprised also. I sat down at the bar at my sister’s work and had a two hour conversation with a bunch of people who didn’t know me from anyone else. And it was like we were old friends catching up, trading war stories and drinking beers. This brings up another topic all together…

People in Michigan drink… a lot. And often. And by themselves. Its not uncommon to go to the bar by yourself and have a couple dozen drinks.

Its totally cool to have an adult drink, whenever, wherever. If you’re about to jump on the road, sit down and have a beer. Even if its 9:30 AM. You’re having a bad morning? Pound a shot with me.

The funny thing is, I kind of like this brazen form of alcoholic debauchery. It leads to happy people who are very out-going. What’s wrong with that? I mean besides the chance of car accidents, drunken fist fights and swollen livers.

When I was at the bar the first night back, someone light up a cigarette… in the bar! I was confounded and confused. I nearly smacked the cig out of her hand when I realized, of course, she could light up wherever, its Michigan. There are no smoking bans, light that bitch up. You’re sitting at church, let’s have a smoke (although I don’t know if any one actually does this, but I wouldn’t be surprised…)

I’m not a smoker but I like the old school nature of being able to smoke where ever. It seems like movie set in a seedy place. It makes things seem edgy.

These three things are status quo in Ann Arbor Michigan. It makes me think of that show “Mad Men” which is set in the 1950’s, where all the characters smoke at work, drink high balls in their offices and are hell of lot nicer to random folks.

Michigan should change their tourist slogan from “Find your true north” to “Find a good old days flashback”.

Deja Vu

2007-12-18T09:44:00.000-08:00

The steel grey clouds overhead framed in the ominous storm below as I ran from my sister’s apartment through the freshly fallen snow.

Something overwhelmed my senses. Smell, sight, sound and temperature combined into a pattern that hadn’t experienced in years.

Déjà vu.

There in Technicolor Dolby Surround Sound and then gone in a flash of nothingness.

Places that I only remember in distant memories appear in front of my very eyes and then fade from my vision. Hazy memories dot the horizon but I can’t reach them. People that are long gone seem to be there but then are blown away by a strong gust of December wind.

The problem with Déjà vu is that you can’t place why you feel like this has happened before. You search your insides to find a clue but there is none. It always feels like to me that I ‘dreamt’ what is happening before my very eyes, like I have some sort of special talent or gift to see into the future when I fall asleep. But this one was different.

My Déjà vu was wasn’t Déjà vu at all, but a similar feeling inside. But instead of it being a mystery to me, I know exactly where it came from. It happened to me before in a completely different way; in a different place, time and circumstances.

We sat outside that night by a fire. I wondered why we weren’t inside, considering the weather. Wind pranced through blustery snow and white trees, darting the few remaining leaves from their bonds and emancipating them into flight. I stared at one leaf as it hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. My over-active imagination wondered if it was built by some squirrels, the Wright Brothers of the squirrel world.

He was drinking a beer. So was I sort of, the bottle was killing my hands from the cold so I put mine in the snow at my feet and didn’t really touch it. I was kind of upset that I was out there in the first place. Couldn’t we drink beer in the house by the portable space heater? I figured I would give it five minutes and then go in.

After three minutes, we started the conversation that saved my life.

What was exactly said, I’ll never be able now put into words. We just talked. About everything you possibly imagine. I wish that I would’ve taped the conversation because when it was done, it passed just as quickly as my déjà vu.

It was getting late. He stood up and smiled at me, his gray stubble smirk. He turned and walked away, his dark silhouette casting a shadow for a mile through the old cedar trees and the acrobatic flight paths of snow.

That moment; the wet smell in the air, the cold on my breath, the sound of the hollow wind were clearly the same. But moreover, something appeared just past my line of sight. There stood a ghost in the darkness, an apparition, a figment.

And with that, it was gone.

My Rental Car got Keyed

2007-12-12T10:00:00.000-08:00

I walked out to my rental car this morning to find that someone keyed it. Fuck me.

First off, who the fuck keys random cars? It wasn’t that I was parked poorly or did anything to deserve it. Shit, if it was one of my enemies, I could understand why they did it. But my enemies don’t know I have a rental car and that I haven’t been parking in my garage.

Second, what does keying someone’s car do for the person who does the keying? Does it make you feel big? Strong? Like you’ve accomplished something?

Third, don’t they realize that it’s fucking expensive to do such a thing to a rental car? It’s not like I can just live with the scrape, like I would do on my normal car. I have to turn it into the rental car company, who already told me I would have to pay the $500 deductible for the repairs. $500!??? For a scratch!?????

It sucks that I’ve had to have the rental car this long, for the repairs to my regular car have taken a fucking week already. I was supposed to turn this car in a long time ago, but they kept taking their sweet ass time. Now because I’ve had to keep the car, I waited one day to long to turn it back in.

Now, I have to try to return my rental car, pay a small fortune for a scratch, get my car and then race to the airport to make my flight to Michigan. I hope I don’t miss my flight.

I hate you car key scratcher person, whoever you are.

Top Ten Holiday gift ideas for people you don’t really want to spend money on.

2007-12-11T11:47:00.000-08:00

It happens every year. You have someone, be it a relative or friend or coworker, who you have to buy a gift for whatever reason (mainly that they bought you one so you have to return the favor) even though you really don’t want to spend money on them. We’ve all been there. With our economy in a total shitcoffin, every penny you spend this Holiday counts.

That’s why I’m here with a list of cheap gifts to get these people who don’t want to buy a gift for.

10- Macaroni Art- You take macaroni and other assorted pastas and glue them onto a piece of paper or a paper towel roll and BOOM, instant art! You can put a special greeting of your liking or you could even do a self portrait. Talk about classy.

9- A Slinky- What walks down stairs, need no motor repairs and makes you look like a genius gift giver? A Slinky, that’s what!

8-A costume of yourself- Take clothes from your closet and put together a quintessential ‘you’ outfit. If you always wear plaid, put in a plaid shirt. If you were Birkenstocks, throw your old ones in a box. Give it to them and present it as a ‘you’ disguise.

7- Old Magazine Subscription- Take all the magazines that you saved from the last year. Deliver one to your person every week when the date on the old magazine states you should. Voila, instant old magazine subscription. (on second thought, this might take a lot of work. I’d say just give them all to them, tell them to sort out the dates)

6- Paper Mache Mask- Take strips of newspaper and glue them together into the form of a mask. Paint it with White out or whatever you got at the house. This is a great gift for someone who’s really really ugly.

5-A Candle- I was once told that you can always get someone a candle. Why? I’m not sure but fuck it, buy ‘em a candle, its cheap.

4-A picture frame with your picture- Get a good photo of yourself, maybe the one from Glamour Shots when you were 14, and frame that bitch up. And don’t waste money on an expensive frame, buy that shit from Goodwill.

3-Old Books- Take some books off the shelf at your house that you hate or never read and wrap them up. Easy, removes clutter from your house and you look intellectual.

2-Fast Food Condiments- Take all the catsup, mustard, BBQ and hot sauce packets from your fridge and junk drawer and arrange them in a basket. Make it look nice, like a cornucopia of condiments.

1-A Poem- Write a really abstract, silly poem and say that you wrote it for the person. Something about monkeys, sun beams, shoeshine and butterflies would work.

I hope that this helps you find a cheap gift. If it didn’t well, then you need to re-read the article again. I’m not writing another 10 gifts, I refuse!

Medical Marijuana

2007-12-10T11:30:00.000-08:00

I did the unbelievable this weekend. I got a medical marijuana card. Yes, that card, the golden ticket for pot heads. My life just got a little bit better.

I’ve had bad back problems lately after my accident. It’s been tough because the pain medication makes me moody. That’s when this idea came into my head.

Why not get a license to smoke and eat weed for pain?

I assumed that this process would be tough and that I would be turned down afterwards. It was easier than I thought.

I went into this private ‘clinic’, which was nothing more than a couple of rooms in a small building. I filled out a quick form, answered some really easy questions from the doctor, who signed some papers and I was out the door.

That’s it, I had a one year permit to purchase weed at stores, possess it, and smoke it out. As I was walking down the street, laughing at my good luck, I look up and someone was encouraging me to go into a weed store (one of many in the West Hollywood area). It was like I was in Amsterdam, but it was one block away from my house.

Inside the weed store, it was exactly like Amsterdam, I could purchase any weed, type or flavor. Plus I could buy weed butter, food, candies, oils, plants, seeds etc. Plus, they have cheap weed, expensive weed, weed that will make you sleep, weed that makes you awake… anything you could imagine.

I purchased some bubblegum kush and some 9 times hash fudge. This stuff is 9 times as strong as your normal hash fudge. Man, that might have been an underestimate…

I ate this stuff, a tiny piece and smoked a blunt before trying to go to watch the Mayweather/ Hatton fight. It became apparent quite quickly that I wouldn’t be able to operate heavy machinery.

I was faced, everything was moving too slow, or was it too fast? Whichever it was, I was fucked up like I hadn’t been since I was in Amsterdam. I ‘over medicated’ as my new doctor had termed it.

It didn’t help that as I was over medicated that a crazy homeless person accosted us at McDonald’s, accusing Dayn of being Jesus. That a pretty heavy think to lay on someone who ate this fudge hash, especially to someone who can’t stop laughing. But after hearing this crazy person yell at us for 20 minutes, I was ready to escape. Thank God he left before I died of laughter. Man, I laughed like hadn’t laughed in months, maybe years.

The whole night was a blur of laughter, I don’t remember most of it or the fight for that matter.

After Saturday night, I felt still high when I woke up the next morning. I guess I was pretty dang high…

Thanks to my completely legal weed card, I can do that. Hopefully I don’t over medicate too often, I think I almost ate and smoked myself retarded.

Writer's block

2007-12-07T14:38:00.000-08:00

I didn’t post a blog yesterday because I had writers block. Shit, its not even writers block but I like absolutely no idea what to right about.

You see I have my mind wrapped around two things right now, “The life of Hunter S. Thompson” book and my script “Terrence versus the Army of Robots.” Whenever I sit down to right, those are the only two topics that come to mind. That and Bob Dylan…

Here is a list of things that I thought about writing, but couldn’t figure out how to get more than four sentences about it.

-I Am Legend- I saw a preview of it today and it was… okay I guess. It wasn’t bad at all, in fact, it was good but different. I thought it would be more entertaining than it was, it was actually kind of depressing. If you’re looking for a movie to think about the end of the world and being alone, this is the one for you.

-Classic rock- I’ve been listening to a bunch of classic rock lately. What do I have to say about that? I’m not sure.

-Tag, my short movie- I’m really ready to be done with everything on this but I have to go back and do another edit with some different sound mix. I really don’t want to, because I’m just burned out of it but I have to.

-I’m going back to Michigan on Wednesday for my sister’s gradation. Should be fun. And very cold.

-My tattoo itches today.

-I’m going to watch the Mayweather/Hatton fight on Saturday. I hope Hatton kicks the shit out of him.

-I think I’m going to check out Juno this weekend, looks like it’s a good flick.

-The Lions play the Cowboys this weekend. Looks like another loss for the football club from Detroit.

All of those things aren’t really full blog worthy. Maybe after the weekend, I’ll have more to write about.

The DDDDDDDDDDDD!

2007-12-05T10:18:00.000-08:00

Just when my interest in sports was fading, my Tigers pull me back in.

My whole life has been filled with the Detroit Tigers. Shit just last week I got a big ass tattoo of the old English D Tigers logo. Some of my first memories were of going to Tigers Stadium to watch the World Series winning 1984 Tigers. After that, when the Tigers had Cecil Fielder, I would watch games on the couch with my dad every summer when I was visiting him in Michigan. Later when I was in college, I would go to the bar to watch the terrible Tigers who couldn’t win if they tried, and I’m pretty sure they didn’t try. But I still loved them, I would draft a terrible fantasy baseball team every year because I would draft a ton of Tigers.

Now, it’s like the Tigers are a fantasy team.

Thank God Mike Illitch gave the GM job to Dave Drombroski and the manager job to Jim Leyland. They changed the organization from a punchline for a dumb joke on Leno to a powerhouse.

Four years ago, the Tigers flat out sucked. Then suddenly, we were aggressive about signing players, Pudge Rodriguez decided to come here. Everything changed after that, including the players that the Tigers already had in their system. Young guys who lost 20 games in our record setting sucky season looked like studs. Maybe they wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Poof, Two years later when the Tigers made the World Series when no thought they would. Shit, I was a little shocked but totally happy and content with the change. They were respectable again, and in fact, they were good, if not great.

But this last year, they were hit with a ton of injuries and played like shit down the stretch. Maybe they would be a one hit wonder.

Now, the Tigers are the most active and down right ruthless team in the off season. Today’s announcement of the biggest trade in Tigers history makes this team just downright nasty…

http://www.mlive.com/tigers/index.ssf/2007/12/tigers_blockbuster_trade_stuns.html

I would be happy getting Dontrelle Willis, who had a crappy year last year but I think just needed a change of scenery. But to get one of the greatest young hitters out there in Miguel Cabrera is not fair. Its like we are catching up to the Yankees and Red Sox out there, playing with Monopoly money and making huge pick ups.

In order to get Dontrelle and Miguel, the Tigers did have to give up two of our best prospects. But what if those guys don’t pan out? We gave a hand full of unknowns for a young proven commodity who is getting in the best shape of his career and guy who is only two seasons removed from winning 22 games.

I like those chances.

Not to mention that the Tigers went out and got Edgar Renteria and Jacque Jones and resigned everybody that was worth resigning. As the article posted above notes, the Tigers have added 4 All Stars in 14 months with giving up a player that has spent a full season in the bigs.

Thank you Tigers. You made sports interesting to me again.

Ron and the Rain

2007-12-04T14:08:00.000-08:00

Ron waited for the first drops of rain, patiently sitting by the cracked back window. Larry ‘Snowman’ Oklahoma, the weatherman on the channel seven news, said there was a 99 percent chance of precipitation. Ron knew what that meant. He paid close attention in his 2nd grade science class last year, studied the barometer, found out about weather patterns. 99 percent precipitation meant it was going to rain.

During his waiting, Ron thumbed through his favorite comic book, “The Terrible”. The Terrible was probably a little too mature and edgy for Ron to be reading, but he didn’t care. He was the first kid he knew that got into more ‘adult’ graphic novels and not regular comics, which he deemed, “for little kids.” He took a lot of pride in his fine taste for their explicit violence and near pornographic sex scenes. He would trace the half naked ladies with a thin piece of notebook paper and a number two pencil, always a number two, and he would pass them off as his own creations to the few classmates he actually spoke to. They thought he was an artist. He felt like a fraud, but that didn’t stop him from presenting all the kids his new piece every Monday morning on the playground by the monkey bars.

The Terrible smashed open the skull of yet another street punk just as a burst of disconcerting thunder sounded from the sky, creating a strange cacophony that startled Ron. During his waiting, he got so caught up in the Terrible’s adventures that he forgot the reason he was by the window in the first place.

A single drop of rain hit the window. Then another. The two drops raced down the windowpane and ran into each other, forming a large globule that hung for a moment and then eventually fell to the window sill.

Ron jumped up of his favorite worn down chair and ran to the back door. He was ready for the rain, the plastic and rubber of his galoshes and raincoat rubbed together, creating an annoying squeaking sound. He pushed up the sliding glass door and peered outside; it was now sprinkling all over the small wood deck and garden that his step mom kept in order.

The smell of fresh water, earth and wood permeated Ron’s senses. It was time.

Next to the back gate stood a generic BMX bike. It wasn’t a name brand like all the other kids on the block who had Dynos, Haros and Mongooses. Ron always openly spoke hatred to his bike. He told it and anyone who would listen how ‘stupid and plain’ it was; like the bike was a conscience entity that needed to be reminded of its blandness and that this mockery might institute a change. But as much as he hated it, he loved it as well. He spent every free moment of the past year on the bike. Not out of pure necessity either, it was more than a mode of transportation; it was his release, his conduit for adventure, his best friend.

Ron hopped on his bike and didn’t bother to shut the back gate; he had more important things to do. As he peddled away from his house, another crack of thunder snapped through the air. The rain drops took cue from the clap and doubled in intensity, up from a drizzle to what Ron would tell his friends is, “the Seattle Standard”. Ron hadn’t been to Seattle but he heard that it rained everyday there from his much older step sister, who went to Seattle for college. Every time when she would visit, she remark on the “the Seattle Standard” and how the rain was different there, better. She held an elitist attitude about rain and the quality and quantity of it in her new hometown, but Ron never understand why she felt that way. But he adopted the phrase, “the Seattle Standard” because it made it sound like he was well traveled. He came up with a plan in his head that if in the event a kid was to ask if he had been to Seattle, he would lie and say he spent the weekend. However, no one asked him so he never had to lie.

Sploosh! Ron’s dull silver bike landed in a puddle at the base of the first jump on his run. Ron had spent the better part of the last summer building a few dirt ramps in the vacant dirt field next to his house. His multiple bike runs through this field during his short tenure in the neighborhood smothered the plant life, mostly weeds and tall wheat like grass, into a muddy faux bike track.

During the second month of summer break, the other kids noticed the track and started riding it themselves. Eventually, they took inspiration from Ron’s heavy shoveling and built upon the track, leading different paths to parts of the neighborhood; to other kids backyards, to the elementary school, to the Foodco. Shopping center.

The other kids also built their own ramps, but all of them paled in comparision to Ron’s ‘Evil Knievel’ ramps. Ron’s father showed him a video of Evil Knievel the year before, told him how exciting his jump over the Snake River was to him when he was a Ron’s age. Ron paid close attention to the set up and execution of his jumps; how his ramps arched and his landing area was clear and straight.

This has a profound affect on Ron and his plans for the summer. Ron had always rode his bike through town and around the field, but now he was motivated to build ramps inspired by the design of Mr. Knievel. Ron made sure to analyze the angle of the jump and the drop off to the landing area. Additionally, he made sure that he had enough peddling space before the jump to get to full speed to take the jump, maximizing the vault.

While many kids made their jumps capable of being rode from either side of the path, back or forth, with a little jump occurring in middle of the run, Ron’s jumps were one way roads with a large drop. Other kids would complain that it limited the track to a certain direction that it had to be rode, but Ron didn’t care. He would tell them, “I want big jumps, not some kindergarten crap.”

One day in August; three kids tried to adjust Ron’s fifth ramp, his favorite one and the largest on the track. The ramp rested in between an outcropping of oak trees and dying bushes, making it the most scenic part of the almost completely barren lot. He scrutinized the details of this particular ramp. He wanted the incline to match the precise grade, curvature and take off point of the ramp at Snake River; only in a smaller scale. After spending 10 hours every day shoveling dirt for three straight weeks, it was complete. He stepped back from it and beheld his triumph of his work. It was his masterpiece. But like every masterpiece, it came at a price. The cost of his work was his hand’s health, which still bare the calusses of the shovel handle rubbing splinters into his fingers to this day.

He wasn’t about to let his hard work go to waste. Luckily Ron saw what the kids were fixing to do from the second floor his step mom’s townhouse. He grabbed his bike, came at them with a full head of steam and jumped the ramp higher than he ever had before, just barely clearing the back of Paulie Winston as he kneeled down to dig. Ron came to a stop and the kids exchanged a look. No words needed to be said, the other kids knew exactly how Ron felt. They knew that they were wronging him. The embarrassed kids picked up their shovels and moved 20 yards away to build a tiny hill to expand their growing ‘kindergarten crap’ track.

The rain took a turn for the worse, or for the better, depending on your opinion of rain. Either way, a deluge of water pounded Ron and his trusty best friend/worst enemy as he rounded a corner and accelerated into his fifth jump. He was determined to jump higher and longer than that fateful day in August, if the weather would allow it. He jammed on the pedals and rocked the bike back and forth, his body weight shifting with each push down of his legs. The rain pelted his eyes as the wind blew the drops ‘slightly side like’, just like William Wallace described in Ron’s favorite movie, ‘Braveheart’.

As Ron peddled, he wondered if this was going to be the last time he would have the chance to enjoy this ramp. He was almost sure that it would be. Tomorrow he would be boarding a plane to move Georgia to live with his mom, his real mom. His family knew that it was best for him to have a more settled down living arrangement, whatever that meant. Ron was sick of everyone making decisions for him, he just wanted to stay right where he was and do whatever he wanted to do.

With these thoughts ever salient, he came to the muddy foundation of his master work- the fifth jump. His legs shook, partly from the cold, partly from his intense movement, part from something else that he wasn’t quite sure of. His back tire tore a hole in the mud, shooting a blast of sludge onto the leg of his best pair of jeans as well as the base of the gears. As he reached the precipice of the jump, the rusty chain on Ron’s worst enemy popped off the gear, as if some sort of payback for the years of being told it wasn’t good enough. Ron gave one last thrust down on his pedal… and immediately panicked.

Ron’s momentum propelled him off the ramp as he tried to gain a solid footing on the bike, to no avail. His right foot slipped off the pedal. The bike lifted up into his crotch and solar plexus as he flew off course, to the right of the path, into the largest oak tree in the bunch where Ron had once built a tree fort.

Boom! Ron and his bicycle slammed hard against the base of the tree. The impact knocked all the rain off of the tree branches above him, sending an avalanche of water down upon his body.

As the water hit him, it became apparent that something hurt; a lot. Ron took stock of himself, examining his body. There was no blood but something was different than his normal falls from his bike.

He touched his right leg and immediately pulled his hand back. “It has to be broken,” he thought. “If not broken, at least really badly screwed up.”

Ron laid on ground, staring at his masterpiece and then back his worst enemy, which was now bent out of shape; the handle bars were turned the wrong way and his left peddle was broken clean off.

Ron looked into the sky. The rain fell directly down onto his face; until you couldn’t decipher where the rain ended and the tears began.

Rebel Yell

2007-12-03T10:06:00.000-08:00

I’ve had this feeling lately that I need to do something but I wasn’t sure what it is. It’s this burning sensation, and no it’s not an STD.

I need to rebel. And not rebel like getting a big ass tattoo like I did on Saturday night either.

I’m so sick of doing what I’m told. I’m sick of doing what’s expected of me. I’m sick of the responsibilities. I’m sick of society. I’m sick of my generation. I’m sick of the next generation of kids. I’m sick of America.

Everywhere I look, I see people who are completely brainwashed. What are they brainwashed by, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s the media. Maybe it’s by their parent’s views. Maybe it’s by their own expectations of what people think they should be doing. Or maybe its what they think people think they should be doing. But whatever it is, they’re brainwashed just the same.

I feel like Holden Caulfield, surrounded by phonies. Hypocrites. Superficial narcissistic assholes. And just like Mr. Caulfield, I’m one of the phonies.

I’m exactly how people think I should be. I work a job, a REAL job, not some job to give me money so that I can work on my art, no no, I need a job where I dress nice and get a leg up. I feel like I need to settle down, I’m getting older so its time I get married and have kids. I shouldn’t dress this way or that, you’re nearly 30, 30 year old’s wear slacks and dress shirts all the time.

I should compromise my artistic voice to please the masses. I should make something not because it’s the story I want to tell, but because it’s going to make money. I should sell out.

Well, fuck that. I’m done.

Everything I used to like, I’m turned off by now. I used to love Hip Hop and electronic music, now I think its stupid. I loved scratching turntables and playing drum machines, now I don’t even want to be seen with that. I loved jeans, hoodies, ball caps, Nike Dunks. Now, I wish I could trade in all of it for a new wardrobe of all black 60’s mod clothes. I used to like video games, now I wish that I never wasted my time playing them. I used to love following sports, now I feel like its sucked my productivity into the toilet. I used to love the internet, now I wish it was never invented.

I want to go back to when things were simpler.

I’ve spent a lot of time reading and researching the 1960’s and 1970’s lately, and I wish I was born 30 years earlier. Back then, art was about art, not about commerce. I could be an experimental film maker and live comfortable in a big city. Now, if I wanted to do that, I would have to take a side job robbing people to be able to make movies.

But its more than that, the people of that age didn’t give a shit about status, money, their audience’s opinion, making it big, selling yourself etc.

It was just about living and being yourself. Some where, some time, some how, that got lost.

I want to find it again.

Going back to the future

2007-11-29T09:37:00.000-08:00

Weed is a hell of a drug. It will make you laugh, make you eat food, make you forget what you said five seconds before. It will also make you think you can go back to the future.

In college, Bradford, Kyle, Fudgeshop and I were driving to go see a movie at the local mall. Of course, we were super stoned at the time, more so than usual I suppose. Kyle remarked how the mall parking lot looking similar to the Hill Valley mall parking lot where Marty went to the past in Back to the Future.

I looked over to the driver Bradford. He had this crazed look in his eyes. He smiled this wicked smile, something you would see a cartoon villain do before he turned on a device to end the world. He

Then Bradford did the unthinkable. He put the peddle to the metal.

“What the hell are you doing?!” I asked Bradford.

“We got to get this thing up to 88 if we’re going to go back to the future,” Bradford said matter of factly.

“You’re what? Stop fucking around, we got to get to the movie…”

But Bradford wouldn’t listen, he was a man possessed. He had the need, the need for speed.

20 miles an hour. 30. 40. 50. I looked at the guys in the back seat, they were holding their seat belts for dear life with white knuckled hands. The grim look on their faces screamed apprehension.

We were going break some sort of record for largest speeding ticket in a parking lot. 60. 70. 80.

We had already done a lap of the entire mall at this point, flying past parked cars. But when we did finally did reach 88, we didn’t leave burned tire marks and shoot back to 1955. We came to a complete stop.

Bradford turned to me and smiled. I looked in the back seat, the guys were practically holding each other with fear. Then someone laughed, then another one, then we all fell into uproarious laughter.

To this day whenever I see that mall or Marty McFly, I think of that night when we almost went back to the future.

God bless Bradford, Back to the Future and most of all WEED.

Bob Dylan

2007-11-28T09:48:00.001-08:00

“Now all the authorities
They just stand around and boast
How they blackmailed the sergeant at arms
Into leaving his post
And picking up angel who
Just arrived here from the coast
Who looked so fine at first
But left looking just like a ghost…”

Bob Dylan played by his own rules. He said to hell with the authorities and popular opinion, “I’d had it with the whole scene.”

I always appreciated Dylan’s music, although I did think his early work got a little monotonous. But after watching Martin Scorsese’s documentary ‘No Direction Home’, Dylan; the man, the myth and the legend inspired me.

‘No Direction Home’ is a very rich look at the life and times of Bob Dylan leading up to his motorcycle accident and focusing on the change of his folk music into his Highway 61 Revisited and when he went ‘Electric’. Throughout Scorsese’s documentary it is apparent that Marty wanted to focus on certain sections of Dylan’s life and the scene and skip other topics. That’s fine, even though it was a little manipulative. But what truly shines through is Dylan’s attitude and his way of doing things.

Whatever the man wanted and wanted to do, he did it.

When Bob was starting out, he wanted to be a better guitar player, listen to every folk record, and move to New York to play. Soon, he was in Greenwich Village, playing everyday in front of audiences and stealing records from friends and associates.

Dylan wanted to record and have a record out. Boom, he became a self promoter, went and told people about himself, hung out with promoters, tried his damnest to get there.

He was sick of the folk music scene and wanted to change styles. He went electric and half of his audience hated him for it. But eventually, he made his audience follow what he thought was cool, and not the other way around.

Man, it hit me in the face like a two by four. Whatever the man wanted and wanted to do, he did it.

I need to be more Dylan like. Stop worrying about people saying no. Stop worrying about people not liking what I do. Be happy with my work, my art and if someone doesn’t like it, fuck ‘em, “play it fucking loud.”

Thank you Bob Dylan.

Chef Mike's fart

2007-11-27T11:57:00.000-08:00

As we waited to my new born nephew, Chef Mike had to fart. Really bad. My family, my girlfriend and I were standing in the hallway when Mike excused himself, walked into the other room and released the biggest fart I’ve ever been a part of.

I’ve been known for my own flatulence, its smell and the volume of my farts. But my toots paled in comparison to this monster fart.

Within seconds, the entire first floor of the hospital smelled like a sulfur mine mixed with a million dead rats.

I ran away from the smell and its source to no avail, it moved faster than my legs could carry me. I was on the phone at the time and my sister swore that she smelt something through the cell phone.

Its one in a million, the widowmaker, Mike’s ultimate fart. I commend you on your achievement Chef Mike. Amazing.

New Life

2007-11-26T11:01:00.000-08:00

Wow, what a Thanksgiving. Turkey was great, Chef Mike made crazy mashed potatoes with his culinary skills and the Lions lost yet again. But all of that paled in comparison to the surprise of the holiday weekend- the birth of my nephew, Cian Thomas Smith.

I woke up at 8:30 AM on Saturday morning to my mom telling Chef Mike that my brother’s wife went to the hospital at 2 AM, she was going to have the baby soon. We all hurried to get ready so we could be there for the birthing. We hurried up to wait apparently…

I always pictured the whole birthing process to be like you see it in the movies. You rush to the hospital and the heavily-breathing mother gets pushed into the operating room on a gurney, with the family running behind her. The door shuts in the face of the family who then paces back and forth for a few minutes before a nurse comes out and says it’s a boy or a girl. Then the family walks to a window where 50 babies sit in a room behind a glass window. The family points the new addition to the family, cry, fawn and hug. Then the proud poppa comes out and gives everyone cigars.

Nope, that’s not how it works at all. The quick urgent feeling in the movies couldn’t be further from the truth.

My mom, dad, girlfriend, Chef Mike and I got there and went to the room where my brother and his wife were getting ready. My brother walked out of the door and closed it behind him, told us to sit tight and that the baby would be here in 30 minutes. Yeah right.

We waited in the waiting room (cause that’s what you do in a waiting room is wait). You sit inside a glass window much like these babies in movies do, people walking by and looking in on your like you’re a caged animal. You kind of are really, until the moment the baby comes and you can get out. Its like the penalty box.

Hour one rolled by. Hour two. We all went for a walk. I bought a pack of cards and we played war. Hour three went by. Hour Four. Then a text from my brother, should be any second. Hour five. Hour six. Then another text that just said ‘C Section’. We all went to eat, cause that’s what you do after sitting for 6 hours and you’ve watched Sex and the City for hours, you need food. Then we came back to the waiting room, no news. “Man, where was this kid?! I’ll go in there myself with some salad tongs and pull that kid out if they need me to…”

Suddenly, after hours of waiting and during our 50th game of War; I got a text message that said, “IT’S A BOY. Cian Thomas Smith. Pronounced kee un.”

The entire room slowed down, like a bullet time scene in the Matrix. Its unbelievable to me the feeling that you get when a new family member appears out of what appears thin air, after months of anticipation and hours of waiting. We all hugged each other, my step dad, my mom and I sharing a special moment with my girlfriend and Chef Mike. My step dad was so touched when he heard that his name would be the baby’s middle name that he cried.

Immediately, I sent out a million text messages and phone calls to everyone that knew, my sisters, my other nephew. My stepdad let himself out to have a private moment with his mom, a first time great grandmother. Through the window, I saw tears stream from his eyes.

Finally we would get to see this kid! I figured we would all stand outside a window and get to see my new nephew like in the movies, I guess that doesn’t happen either.

We would take turns going to see mommy and the new baby in a recovery room instead. My mom went first, then my step dad then me. As my brother and I walked through the hallway to see Cian, I felt so proud of my brother. He was once this little turd who couldn’t stop getting in trouble and now he’s a father.

I thought about what our Dad must be thinking in heaven or hell or pregatory or wherever he is. He always told me that I raised Sean, because my mother was always working and he was gone out of our life. That meant I was the only one to take care of him, tell him right from wrong. Hell, when my bro got thrown out of the house for being a degenerate, he lived with me when I was in college. I always tried to steer him clear of trouble, but I probably wasn’t very good at it. It wasn’t until he met his wife that he finally got his stuff together. And now look at him…

Its weird to think that my brother who is three years younger than me, who I practically raised, who was the biggest fuck up growing up; is already married, has a kid and is making roughly 4 times what I make out here in Hollywood.

He’s all grown up. I’m still not there yet. Its like I’m the little brother now.

I know my step dad lets me know it enough. Every time I visit him, he hits me with snide remarks and comments about how I’m not living up to his standard. It fucking hurts. Its not like I’m not trying. I’d love to have all the things that my brother does; money, family, nice clothes and a house but I can’t right now. I’m trying like hell to get further along, to have a high paying job in Hollywood, to make something of myself. I don’t need the pressure from him, my own guilt is pressure enough.

But all of that melted away the minute I saw Cian Thomas, the cutest baby in the world. He melted my heart. I’m a proud uncle for the second time, this being the first time I was there for the actual pregnancy and birthing. Man it feels good.

As you can see, he’s a big kid already. It took his mommy like 16 hours to try to pop him out, only to finally get a C section. Man, that must of hurt…

Honestly, today feels weird because of Cian, but in a good way. Its like everything that I have on plate seems a little less important. All of these problems that I was having, all the worries about money, career, status and everything aren’t nearly as important as that 8 lbs. 4 oz, 21 and a half inch little boy that lives in Phoenix. He has his whole life ahead of him and two loving parents that care about him so much, and two grandparents… and one uncle…

Happy Thanksgiving

2007-11-21T11:45:00.000-08:00

In 24 or so hours, I will be eating mashes potatoes and gravy. Thank God for that. What other things am I thankful for on this festive holiday? Glad you asked.

-My parents for consistently supporting me in my quest to make it in Hollywood.

-My short movie Tag is finally done after months of being in post. A weight of a thousand Britney Spearses has been lifted off my chest. Also, that I was able to get it done in time to apply for the Phoenix Film Festival. I hope it gets in.

-I will have another niece or nephew coming soon, maybe on Thanksgiving day.

-Tejava iced tea.

-Oscar season is coming up so good movies are coming out now. The list of movies that I want to watch is longer than the list of people I owe money to.

-Radiohead’s In Rainbows box set gets shipped soon.

-I have a fast metabolism that has slowed down only enough for me to have a little pot belly.

-America’s economy is doing so well, gas prices are low and the stock market is up. Oh wait, that was 1997, not 2007. My bad.

-I have a girlfriend who understands that I’m crazy and in fact loves it.

-Netflix. What a great invention. Now, I have to watch movies faster than the mail.

-My beautiful dog Parker and the little things that she does that make me laugh.

-The weather, thank God its not 100 still. Fucking global warming.

-My sister graduating college and potentially moving to LA.

-Fantasy Football, I’m number one in both of my leagues (by typing this I have just jinxed myself for sure)

-I’d say thanks for the Detroit Lions and Phoenix Suns if they both didn’t consistently let me down.

-My friends who help me out with my hair brained schemes and plans.

-Happy Ending Bar that opened up next to my house and has the NFL package on Sundays. Thanks for taking my money and making everything so fucking expensive. Also thanks for making the best Kobe burger on the planet.

-The WGA for completely fucking up my chances of selling a script in the near future. Greedy bastards.

-Reefer for making my back not hurt so much. Also Dr. Mike Yanigita for the chiropractor work.

-Rolling Stone magazine for being a source of continued coolness.

-BBQ chicken sandwiches.

-Music for making me forget my problems.

-I’m not dead.

There’s probably some others but I don’t feel like typing anymore. Happy Thanksgiving people!

Del Taco versus Taco Bell

2007-11-20T13:39:00.000-08:00

I’ve had too many arguments about the merits of Del Taco lately. A large number of my friends refuse to try Del Taco for some fucking reason. They say that they prefer Taco Bell and won’t even take the taco taste test.

Well, frankly, I’m sick of it. Del Taco deserves its place in the fast food pantheon. It’s not that I don’t like Taco Bell, I do. But Del Taco has a few items that are much better than Taco Bell. In fact, I think Del Taco is better overall than Taco Bell.

Here’s the tale of the tape, a head to head comparison of the two restaurants from someone who loves Mexican Food more than sex.

Overall food quality-

Del Taco has Taco Bell beat pretty bad. The beans at Del Taco are made fresh everyday, while Taco Bell’s are freeze dried. The cheese at Del Taco is fresh and tasty, the cheese at Taco Bell is okay at best. The tortillas at Taco Bell are generic, Del Taco has fresh tasting ones. The beef at both places are bad, but Del Taco’s has a tiny bit better taste.

Del Taco wins in a landslide.

Menu Selection-

I have to admit, Taco Bell has quite a few selections. But every single one of them is a variation on another item. Add a gordita shell to one taco, boom, you’ve got a double decker taco. Wrap a burrito around a tostada, you got a crunchwrap supreme. Is this method really creating a new food? I’m not sure. But damn if it isn’t tasty.

Del Taco on the other hand has the standard items but also has two things that Taco Bell doesn’t, Hamburgers and French fries. Most people wouldn’t go to a Del Taco for the burgers, but they are tasty. And the French fries, man they are good. They have the right level of salt and when you get them with chili and cheese, they are out of this world.

I’m going to call this one a draw, its hard to chose the burgers and fries option over the crunchwrap supreme.

Hot Sauce-

Taco Bell has a couple of options; mild, hot, and fire. All of these sauces aren’t good but they seem to taste good on Taco Bell food. Also, the hot and fire are not as labeled, they’re mild at best.

Del Taco has two sauces; mild and Del Scorcho. The mild sauce is gross, a total waste of time in my opinion. The Del scorcho is amazing, not really hot but hot enough and tastes like actual Mexican people made it.

Advantage Del Taco.

So basically, Del Taco wins in a landslide. Take that Taco Bell!

Anybody who argues with me from now on about this one, I’m sending them this blog.

Ode to my girlfriend

2007-11-19T11:48:00.000-08:00

Guys don’t like to talk about how much they love their girlfriends to other guys. It’s like showing how pussy whipped you are. Well, I’m about to change that.

I have the best girlfriend ever. There are a hundred million reasons why I love her. First and foremost, she puts up with my ass, which makes her stronger than Hercules.

The other reasons… why don’t I break them down into a top ten list? Everyone loves top ten lists, just ask Dave Letterman’s mom. Here they are, in no particular order.

10- Patience- Mentioned in the opening, she’s like the Mother Theresa of my world. I’m such a pain in the ass all the time, and she takes everything in stride. When I’m pissed off that I’m stuck in traffic, she calms me down.

9- Smarts- She’s the smartest woman that I know. She’s doing great in school, just about to graduate. She had this test that she had to study for that was unreal; she had to basically memorize a bunch of extremely tough passages, who wrote them and what impact they had. I worked with her on them and I was convinced it was impossible to know this crap. She got an A on her test. Plus she’s street smart. Not many girls I know have street smarts unfortunately.

8- Beautiful- Everything about her is beautiful. I love her green eyes, the way they rest in on her face. I love her cheek bones. I love her little nose. I love her chin. I love her ears… I could go on and on…

7- Willing to try new things- She’s always getting into things that I like; football, fantasy sports, movies, music, djaying etc. She’s adventurous and will jump at the chance to do something out of the ordinary.

6- Fun loving- She’s always laughing, smiling and pleased with the world. She makes even the most mundane tasks fun and enjoyable. Her attitude is infectious, she makes you want to smile back at her.

5- Caring- She truly cares about me. She almost motherly in a way, when I hurt, she hurts. She’s worried about me when I’m down. But besides my own needs; she cares society, the helpless people and the planet as a whole.

4- Strong- My girl could beat up your girl. She’s tough. She won’t back down from a fight. Plus, she’s mentally tough, things don’t bother her much. She’s also strong muscle wise for a girl.

3- Stubborn- She’s stubborn in a good way. When she has her mind set on something, there’s nothing that can get in her way. She’s committed to her values and ideals. Plus, if she wants me to do something, I have to do it or I’ll never hear the end of it, but in a good way.

2- Leader- She’s the leader of the pack. At her old job, she was the boss. In her friends, everyone waits for her to do something or set something up because she’s expected to. In every other situation, people flock to her for guidance because she has a cool head and knows how to delegate authority.

1-Big heart- She’s a bleeding heart. She reaches out to the sick and lonely. She cares about homeless people (which I don’t have the capacity to do). She cares about me (I’m like sick lonely and homeless all at the same time.)

These are just ten of the billions of things about my girl that make her the most special lady I’ve met. Does that make me p whipped? Yes, but I don’t care. I love her that much.

Amsterdam

2007-11-15T10:54:00.000-08:00

Man, I miss Europe. I went to Europe after I graduated from ASU in 2001 (man, was it that long ago?) and fell in love with it. I always told myself I would go back but I haven’t yet. Who knows, after I get laid off because of the strikes, maybe I could move there and make movies in France.

I had many favorites places in Europe, Amsterdam being in the top two. Why Amsterdam? Why not?

I always pictured Amsterdam as this seedy place where it was perpetually night, shady characters dart into alleys and you would be scared for your life at all times. I couldn't be more wrong. It's clean, nice and I never felt in trouble.

Amsterdam has it all; art, culture, nice people, good food, beautiful canals, dutch flowers, drugs and legal prostitution; everything a growing boy needs to survive.

I didn’t partake in the prostitution when I was there but I do have an awesome story from someone who did.

One night I decided to hit the town on my own, without my two best friends who I was traveling with. Once out, I enjoyed many Heinekens and lots of Dutch weed. It was great, I highly recommend it. At one of the ‘coffee’ shops, I ran into a guy from Cuba. We hit it off right away, talking about a million things. He proceeded to get me more and more wasted. In an hour, I was faced. We were laughing hard when he told me that he had something to show me.

We walked to the Red Light District. In the windows of the multiple hundreds of years old homes were hookers hanging out. When they got a customer, they will close the curtains and get busy.

We found the building that Juan was looking for. He pointed out a brunette, the hottest in the building.

“What do you think of that one dere?” Juan asked in his funny accent.

“She’s hot,” I started to get a weird feeling. Why did Juan bring me here? Was he like some sort of recruiter for hookers. I wasn’t about to fuck a hooker, no matter how hot she was.

Juan cleared his throat. “She is a man,” he said matter of factly with his Cuban accent.

Wow. I mean wow. What does one say after this?

I asked him, “How do you know that?”

“I don’t vant to talk about it,” Juan replied.

No talk needed, I understood right away.

That’s why Europe is awesome, stuff like that doesn’t happen in the good ol’ USA.

Making Fun of Death

2007-11-14T11:28:00.000-08:00

I make fun of death. A lot. Tell jokes about it. Make fun of people who died. Shit, I’m part of a band that makes fun of dying. Or at least I think I still am.

Sarah’s Mom really hates our band. She wants Sarah to stop making our music. I understand why. Our lyrics are… ummm, how do I say this… over the top. But that’s the point really. Shock value for laughs. We’re not seriously going to chop off someone’s head, or stalk them and put on their underwear.

When Sarah told me her mom felt that she should stop singing these parodies and funny songs, I was hurt at first. Didn’t she understand that we weren’t serious? Didn’t she see the humor in making fun of the tragedy of death and killing?

Sarah’s mom said that she now knows what Alice Cooper’s mother must have felt like. Isn’t that a great example of why our making fun of death should work? Alice is a huge Christian, helps the community, loves puppies, kids and bunnies. If he can sing about all the same crazy shit as us, is it any different? You can sing about death and still be a good person.

And while Alice’s music is very aggressive, ours is fun and dare I say… pop music.

Our music is the same as acting really. Did Robert Englund go on a killing spree with knife hands after doing “The Nightmare on Elm Street”? Did Kevin Spacey become a serial killer after he did Seven? Did Al Pacino want to shoot people with a M16 after he did Scarface? NO, NO and NO.

Maybe she’s right though. Maybe we should stop it before it begins. After all, death is a serious subject, especially if you’ve just lost a loved one. I can understand the pain. I don’t think that’s the reason why she hates it thought. More so, I think her mom and people in general are afraid of dying and talking about death in general. It’s easier to bury your head in the sand.

Am I afraid of dying? Yes, but only a little. To quote RZA from the Gravediggers album, “There’s no need to cry, because we all die.” The way I look at it, I’m going to die some day, maybe tomorrow, maybe in 70 years. But it will happen.

Does dying suck? Yes, it does. But it’s the only constant in our world, the great equalizer. Every one of us will die, whether we like it or not.

So should we be afraid of death, dying and killing or should we embrace the fact that it’s going to happen? I think only when you do realize that death is part of life, that you can live your life to the fullest. I know I have.

But is it insensitive to make fun of killing and death? Maybe… but I think the best way to cope with any problems is to be able to make fun of it. I don’t know if that’s a poor defense mechanism for coping, nor do I care. All I know is that it helps me and that’s all that matters.

I’m going to keep making fun of death and killing, even if I don’t have a musical avenue to express it.

Foot in Mouth

2007-11-13T09:17:00.000-08:00

Be careful what you say and how you say it, it might bite you in the butt.

Many years ago my brother, Jason, Brad and myself were playing the video game Bond 007 for the Nintendo 64. If you’re not familiar with the game, you run around shooting each other, dressed like James Bond or characters from the movie.

During the game, someone kept running around in circles, not really shooting anything but acting like a spaz. I find it funny when people do this because serious gamers get all pissed because they take the game so seriously and when others don’t, they get mad.

Such was the case with Brad. He yells out, “who’s running around like a monkey?”

Bad choice of words on two levels; first, it was Jason who was running around and second, Jason is African American.

Not only is Jason African American but he one of those guys who gets very easily offended by any racism, even if it was by accident. It wasn’t that Brad was being racist, he was saying it because he meant it in a completely different way.

You could cut the tension in the room with a chainsaw. I looked at Jason, who was fighting mad. Brad looked like he just accidentally killed someone’s cat.

Then the real fun began. Brad tried to get himself out of what he said.

“Not that black people are monkeys. Or that monkeys look like black people. Or that black people and monkeys are in any way related…”

Talk about digging yourself into a hole. I had to step in and make sure that Jason understood that Brad didn’t mean what he said. Eventually, Jason was cool and understood it was just a mistake. We actually laughed about it afterwards.

But it just proves the old axiom, ‘Think before you speak…”

Homeless Comedy Relief

2007-11-12T09:59:00.000-08:00

You gotta love LA, its one of the only places where you can’t walk down the street without running into 15 homeless people. As you might have read before, I don’t exactly like homeless folks. They smell, they panhandle you to death, get mad if you don’t give them money, they talk to themselves etc. But sometimes, they provide much needed comic relief.

On Sunday afternoon, my buddy Steve was walking over to the bar to watch football with me. On the way, he ran into a really cute kid being pushed in a stroller by her dad.

In front of them, a homeless man stepped out from between two parked cares. He then pulled down his pants, exposing his bare ass to them.

Steve tried hard to hold in his laughter, but couldn’t. He had no idea that it was about to get more comical.

The homeless guy squatted down.

“Oh no,” Steve thought. “He’s not going to… yep he is!”

The homeless guy pooed right on the concrete sidewalk where Steve, the father and his daughter were walking.

Steve ran past the pooing guy. He tried not to get hit by the butt spray.

The poor father tried to do the same. Bad Idea. The concrete was uneven because tree roots had broken the sidewalk up. The stroller wheels hit a crack and the force of the father’s pushing forced his daughter to teeter precariously on the edge of falling into a poop stream!

She fell out of the stroller… directly towards the shit missle…

The father grabbed his daughter right before her head hit the chocolate soft serve that was coming out of the homeless butt. CLOSE CALL!

Homeless people. Pooping on sidewalks for comedy relief for thousands of years.

(Props to Steve for the asssome story. Get it? Asssome? It's like awesome but... nevermind.)

Pain

2007-11-09T10:26:00.000-08:00

My back is fucking killing me. Man, it hurts constantly. I can’t stop the pain, no matter how many painkillers and muscle relaxers I take, or bourbon that I drink.

I was in a car accident last Friday and that is the cause of my terrible pain. I was on the freeway when every car came to a complete stop in front of me. I stopped the car and look in my rear view, there is another car barreling down on me, with no hopes of stopping in time.

CRACK! The impact sound was startling, I thought we were all going to be seriously hurt. Turns out God was on our side and there were no major injuries and my car is barely screwed up. Thanks Toyota for making such a strong car.

The only problem is that in the process of the accident, I fucked my back up bad. Mind you, the pain is terrible, but I’ve felt worse, on several occasions.

When I was 15 I broke my wrist. I was playing basketball with some guys that I hung out with. I decided that we should take running starts from the other side of the court, jump onto a table and then dunk a basketball. Sounded like a great idea at the time. When I dunked, my legs had so much forward momentum that they swung from underneath me. I dropped basically from ten feet up directly onto my wrist.

OUCH. And I mean O U C H.

I went home and my step dad told me my wrist is just sprained and to not worry about it. How was I supposed to not worry about the bone sticking up the wrong way or the fact that I couldn’t see straight because I was in such pain? I wanted to go to the hospital. My step dad wouldn’t have any part of it. Unfortunately, the voice of reason, my mom, was out of town on business but she would be back early in the morning.

That night I tossed and turned in bed, the pain of my broken wrist taking over my entire body. When my mom came home the next morning, I was awake on the couch, holding ice to my broken bone. My mom saw the damage and immediately took me to the doctor, where I found out that my suspicions were right all along, my wrist was broken.

That pain was pretty bad, so was getting a beer bottle broken over my face.

In college, I had a friend named Kelly. One night when I came home to the dorms, she was hanging out with some meat head guys. She left those guys to come and hang out with me and my friend Aaron. These guys thought I must be cock blocking them, when that couldn’t have been further from the truth. They walked behind Kelly, Aaron and I, saying little remarks under their breath. I was starting to get pissed but I was going to let it slide until we got to my dorm door. The guys ducked into an elevator and yelled out a bunch of insults to me and my friend Aaron.

Now, a smart level-headed person would have just walked away. At the time, I wasn’t one of those people.

I opened my front door and grabbed a baseball bat. I needed an advantage.
There were three of them, and one of me, possibly two is Aaron followed me.

I ran down the stairs like the Flash and got to the bottom floor just as these meatheads were walking away. I told them to say that shit to my face. BIG MISTAKE.

As I said this, Aaron came running down the stairs, his two packs of cigs a day habit made it hard for him to keep up. I turn back around to engage the bullies when I was hit with the hardest punch of my life. It immediately blinded me, sending blood into my eyes.

I struggled as one guy grabbed me and tried to take the bat out of my hands. Blind, I tried to swing, but I couldn’t hit him.

He finally preyed the bat away from me. As I laid on the ground, I could picture him with some sort of sixth sense, pulling the bat up to swing down on me. But he hesitated and ran away. Thank God he did, I could have died with a couple of bat hits to the head.

By the time it was over, I still couldn’t see anything.

The cops showed up and asked us what had happened. We told them everything. Aaron said that I had gotten hit in the head with a full beer bottle. I was like, “I did?”

Apparently the phantom hardest punch of my life was actually a beer bottle being thrown from five feet away, directly to my head. As I turned back around, I caught the bottle right between the eyes. I was very lucky, if I turned a micro second later or early, I would be missing an eye or worse, could have died.

The next couple of weeks, my face was so bad that I couldn’t even leave bed. The pain and swelling were too much to bare.

On second thought, maybe this back pain isn’t so bad after all…

Top Ten Party Ideas

2007-11-08T13:28:00.000-08:00

Are you sick of parties with no theme? No, you’re not? Well you suck then.

I want to go to parties where every small detail has been planned out. I want to bask in the white hot glow of nerdy people going way too far with an idea. I want to be forced into silly games that I don’t want to play but are necessary for the integrity of the theme. I want to be mocked if I don’t wear a costume to a party.

Without further ado, here are my Top Ten Theme Party Ideas-

10- Bacon Party- This one is simple. Gets tons, and I mean tons, of bacon. Cook it up. Get that great bacon smell out there. Create bacon sandwiches, bacon smoothies, bacon martinis. Now, here’s the tough part. You need to create as many bacon looking things as possible. Take pink and red t-shirts and bleach white stripes on them. Dress you entire apartment with bacon related items. Hang fake bacon streamers. Voila! A bacon party! Everyone loves bacon, unless you’re a vag… I mean vegatarian. And even then, they like to smell bacon. Don’t they?

9- Under the Sea- The classic theme, as illustrated by the dance in Back to the Future. Get a bunch of tacky sea related items; shells, fish, mermaids etc. Throw them through out your place. Buy a couple of fish tanks. Put out sushi. Get a large punch bowl and fill it with blue carcoa, vodka, rum, tequila, 151, bourban and the blue toilet bowl flushy things. Yummmmm, sea punch!

8-Naked party- Tell all your friends to show up naked. If them come with clothes, strip them off. Take all of the items out of your main party space, make it naked too. Give everyone punch (see above sea punch recipe) mixed with ecstasy. Pump in some raver music and BOOM, naked party is taking off! Just make sure to invite fit people. No one likes to see fat naked people dance, unless they’re really high. Then it’s just funny.

7-Cell Phone Exchange Party- When someone walks in the door, they check in their cell phone and are given someone else’s phone. You have free reign on their cell phone, call whoever you want from their phone book. But by the end of the night, you have to get your cell phone back by talking to people and figuring who has your phone. Also, you could call yourself and listen for your ring tone. On second thought, this might be a dumb party idea.

6-Country Club Party- Everyone dresses up in their finest golfing clothes and brings their favorite clubs. Throw Caddyshack and PGA highlights on every TV. Make everyone call each other Muffy or Blaine. Talk about the stock market and how this country club is going to Hell with the inclusion of so many women members and those pesky negros. Drink of choice for the party…what do stuffy rich white people drink? Cosmos? Gin and Tonics? I’ll have to wikipedia this.

5-Lame Celebrity Party- Tell everyone to dress like their favorite lame celebrity who acts retarded. Britney, Paris, Dog the Bounty Hunter, whoever you want. Act like your house is a swank club. Make people wait out front of your place in a long line. Have your largest friend act like a bouncer, and tell everyone they have to be on the list or have 15 girls with them to get in. Once inside, play shitty music and make everyone pay $20 for a watered down drink. This sounds like a fun party right? Now, you don’t have to go to the club to have a club experience!

4- Wayne Newton Party- This idea came from Vicki Garretson. Everyone dresses like Wayne Newton or a 50 year old lady who wants to bang Wayne Newton. We play Wayne Newton music all night long, you can dance like Wayne did on ‘Dancing with the Stars’. Everyone drinks White Wine. The various Waynes will be given keys to bedrooms in the house, which they can invite the 50 year old ladies up to their swinging bachelor pad. This is such a good idea, I think I might have this party next weekend.

3-Christian Bible Study Camp Party- Everyone has to dress like a teenage Christian Bible Study Camper. There will be bible scripture readings, prayer, and bible camp sing-a-longs. You can sneak into the camper’s bunk bed rooms, where the real fun begins… drugs, premarital sex, and sneaking booze into your juice boxes. The camper who can recite the most scripture while appearing the most intoxicated wins! What do you win? Ahhhh, a bronze statue of God? Does that sound cool? It does to me. Praise Jesus.

2-Stolen Booze Party- BYOB for this party… with a catch. Every person who comes to the party has to steal the liquor from somewhere; be it a store, your next-door neighbor, another party, the police station etc. Any party goers who has video footage of the theft with be praised and their video will be shown on the giant TV screen. The most fun part of this party is when the cops show up with angry people who had their booze ripped from their hands, and the arrests that follow. Make sure to bring bail!

1-Predeath funeral party- You fake the death of the person who is throwing the party, maybe in the same way they faked Butters death on South Park by throwing a pig off of a building and saying it was the host commiting suicide. You tell everyone to show up in black and that there will be a wake. You put a coffin in the house, fill up the home with flower arrangements. During the wake, everyone will get up and speak about the host. At the perfect time, the host jumps out of the casket and says SURPRISE! Now everyone gets to party with the dead guy! You can even drink embalming fluid for a fun effect. Genius, especially if you get to watch all your friends cry and tell sad stories about you passing on. Man, I can’t wait to have this party!

So there you go. Don’t invite me to your ‘lame keg beer with no theme’ party. Spice things up and show me a good time!

The Death of the Entertainment Industry

2007-11-07T12:00:00.000-08:00

Five years ago, I decided to give up my well paying career as an apartment manager to pursue my dream; making movies, writing and working on music. More and more I realize, I dedicated my life to the pursuit of a slowly growing funeral march.

The entertainment industry is dying a slow death and I got in right as it went on life support.

With a ton of new media outlets out there, you would think that there would be a larger market for people to purchase music, movies, TV, and writing. I thought so…

As I type this, there is a growing cacophony of yelling and honking horns outside my little window from a mob of striking Writer’s Guild of America writers and their supporters. I’m glancing through Rolling Stone magazine, which tells me of more disappointing sales of music, so much so that Best Buy and other large market music vendors are cutting back store space to music, so much so that places like Target might not even have music in their stores in a couple years. Tower Records, my former employer from college, has already gone out of business and many other record stores are following suit.

But that’s not all…

Their appears to be no end in sight for the writers guild strike, both sides are that far apart.

TV will soon be dominated by more and more ‘reality’ shows, because that’s the only thing that can go on TV without writers. Goodbye new season of "Lost", hello “Who wants to fuck a millionaire.”

Both the Director’s Guild of America and the Screen Actors Guild contracts are coming up in July, leading to possibly to another massive set of strikes.

The internet has led attention spans to be peanut size, any more content than a couple of minutes equals yawns from the new generation of kids.

And finally the worst- Revenue from all media is down every year for the past couple of years.

All of this is happening as I’m getting closer to the end of my tenure here at the Warner Bros. I’m going to have to find another job soon. Where? How? With whom?

Then there is my whole 'career' as a writer/director. I have scripts that I want to start selling. That can’t happen until after the strike.

Plus, I have a short movie that I'm working on that at this rate is never going to get finished.

Now, I sit here wondering why I did this? I know I didn’t expect to make a fortune getting into this industry, at least I didn’t care if I did. But I want to be able to support myself. I have a huge student loan payment to make every month from my investment in my movie making education. I’d like to start a family at some point. I’d like to be able to go a month without asking my mom for money to support my life in Hollywood.

I guess I did it for the love of all things media. But just like a marriage that happened for the wrong reasons, I’m falling out of love for this entire industry and the fickle tastes of the American Public.

Now if I could just get my old job back managing apartments…

President George W. Bush against the Triple Burger- The Final Chapter.

2007-11-06T10:16:00.000-08:00

The continuing saga of Chef Mike and George W. Bush at Fat Burger; high as a kite and sitting in front of multiple pounds of hamburger.

(George W. Bush stares at his Triple King Burger. He shakes his head and rubs his eyes.)

Mike- Just eat it yo. You said you could handle it bitch. Don’t puss out now.

George- Michael, I'm a patient man. And when I say I'm a patient man, I mean I'm a patient man. Maybe, you know, I need to take this one step at a time.

M- Fine, step one. Put the muthafuckin’ burger in your mouth. Step two, chew that shit up. Step three swallerrrrrrr that bitch up. I sure you know all about swallllllllllleeeeeeerrrrinnnnn’.

G- And one of the things we've got to make sure that we do is anything.

M- What the fuck does that mean? Damn yo, I think you done smoked yourself retarded.

(George picks up the burger and takes a huge bite.)

G- Hamburgers. The cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast. Ummm, this is a tasty burger. Mind if I have some of your tasty beverage to wash this down with?

M- You’ve got your own… very clever muthafucka.

(George has his mouth full.)

G-Whaaa?

M- Pulp Fiction… never mind.

(George devours half of the burger in two bites.)

M- Whoa, slow your roll G. You’re going to get sick putting that much beef in your system that fast.

G- When I take action, I'm not going to fire a $2 million missile at a $10 empty tent and hit a camel in the butt. It's going to be decisive.

M- That’s fine, but don’t get yourself sick. You’ve still gotta go to that fire shit down in San Diego…

G- Oh damn. Oh no. Michael, don’t make me go down there. You know, the thing about fire is… it’s bad. And I’m… too high. I know what I believe. I will continue to articulate what I believe and what I believe — I believe what I believe is right. Man, I’m high.

M- Don’t bug out bitch. Just finish your burger, nice and slow. Damn, I knew I shouldn’t let you smoke that much shit. Now, I’m responsible.

G- No one is responsible Michael. Its God’s will for the events of this afternoon to happen. I’m going to be fine. I feel better already.

M- Good, the tide’s finally turning.

G- I think -- tide turning -- see, as I remember -- I was raised in the desert, but tides kind of -- it's easy to see a tide turn -- did I say those words?

M- Fuck, we’re screwed.

(Suddenly, two Secret Service agents run into the FatBurger.)

Secret Service- We have to go mister President. We’re scheduled to be in San Diego in one hour.

G- You know, I don’t know. Do we really have to go down there?

SS- Yes sir. Its important, like Katrina. But with fire this time.

G- Michael, as my Secretary of Fire Stuff, what do you advise me to do?

M- I’m not your… fine. I advise that you go down there and speak to the people. Declare a state of emergency and tell everybody the whole thing’s sad. That should work.

G- Michael, you are a dear trusted friend. I will always remember this moment.

M- What moment? The fatburger you didn’t finish or the blunt we smoked?

G- What? What are we talking about?

M- You gotta run G.

G- That’s right. Goodbye Michael.

(George and the Secret Service run out. Mike eats his food…)

M- Shit G! How am I supposed to get home?

(Mike sighs and goes back to eating.)

THE END… or is it!?!?!?!?!?!

Chef Mike and President go to FatBurger Part Two

2007-11-05T11:17:00.000-08:00

The continuing story of Chef Mike and George Walker Bush high as a kite at FatBurger.

(Mike and George sit in front of the jukebox, waiting for their FatBurger to arrive. )

Mike- Man, they play the dumbest shit in this place. Why I gotta listen to Madonna? Huh? Why? It’s fucking up my appetite, this bullshit-ass gay-ass music bullshit.

George- I feel like Madonna is singing to me. Her voice is inside my head and I can’t get it out. I shake my head and BOOM, she’s still there. She’s wearing that pointy bra from the 90’s, the one from the Vogue video. Wait, she just had a costume change, now she’s wearing the wedding dress from the VMA’s.

M- What the fuck does Like a Virgin mean anyway? I know that they talk about that shit in Reservoir Dogs, but that shit that Quentin Tarrantino said in the movie made less sense than this muthafuckin’ song. I’ll show Madonna’s ass some tight virgin shit.

G- I’m so high. Michael, what am I going to do? I’ve gotta sober up.

M- I told your ass to not chief the shit out of that blunt. I know you’re the Commander in Chief, but that doesn’t mean you have to Chief the blunt dawg.

G- I have a lot of stuff to do today. I’ve gotta sober up. I’ve gotta sober up. I’ve gotta sober up.

M- You’re repeating yourself. You’re annoying the shit outta me.

G- See, in my line of work you got to keep repeating things over and over and over again for the truth to sink in, to kind of catapult the propaganda.

M- Propaganda? What the fuck are you talking about?

G- Well, you know, the thing about propaganda is… What are we talking about?

M- Fuck it yo. The food’s on it way out.

(The Fat Burger Employee brings out the food, a t-shirt and a camera.)

Fat Burger Employee- Number 69?

G- 69 hehehehehe.

M- Yeah, that’s us. Damn, that’s a big ass burger G.

(The FBE places the triple king burger in front of the President. He holds up the Polaroid camera.)

FBE- Smile mister President.

G- I'm thrilled to be here in the bread basket of America because it gives me a chance to remind our fellow citizens that we have an advantage here in America — we can feed ourselves.

(Mike and George smile and the FBE takes their picture. The FBE shakes his head and walks away.)

G- (whispers to Mike) Do I look high?

M- Of course you look high muthafucka, you’re high! You’re going to look high if you’re high. That’s how it works.

G- This burger is too big. I can’t eat all of that. You know, I intend to do my best. But sometimes, things happen and you know what that means when things happen, you’re best might not be... what was I talking about?

M- The burger dawg. I told your sassy Texas ass that can’t eat that shit, but you didn’t listen to me.

G- You told me that?

M- Yeah, like two times.

G- I think you’re wrong. I always listen to the members of my cabinet and make decisions based on evidence and... I thought I got Fat fries?

M- You ordered skinnys. And I’m not part of your cabinet man.

G- There's an old saying in Tennessee — I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee — that says, fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can't get fooled again.

(Mike eats his burger.)

M- (with his mouth full) Whaaa yoo tallliin’ bout?

G- How am I going to finish this thing? Man, I'm too high.

(To be continued in the final chapter, George versus the big ass burger!)

My friend Chef Mike and President George W. Bush go to Fatburger.

2007-11-02T11:56:00.000-07:00

The other day, my buddy Chef Mike smoked a bunch of pot with George W. Bush. Maybe you’ve heard of him? He’s the president of the United States. What does Mike do after he smokes? He goes to Fat Burger of course.

(Mike and George walk into Fat Burger. An enormous line turns around and looks at the President, Mike and the several Secret Service agents that follow.)

Mike- Fuck. Muthafuckin’ long ass line yo. Every time I’m here, there’s a muthafuckin’ long ass line.

George- Michael, Michael, Michael you forget who I am. (clears throat and annunciates) Fellow Americans. I’m pleased to be here at this fine eating establishment. I encourage you to get out there and help the US economy by spending money. As our your honored guest, I appreciate your hospitality of letting me and my colored friend here enjoy the tasty burger goodness.

(George and Mike walk to the front of the line. The costumers curse under their breath. The Secret Service grab the costumers and pull them outside.)

M- Nice job G. I got get me some of those black suit muthafuckas. Whatcho getting’ bitch?

G- I got a lot of Ph.D.-types and smart people around me who come into the Oval Office and say, 'Mr. President, here's what's on my mind.' And I listen carefully to their advice. But having gathered the advice, I decide, you know, I say, 'This is what we're going to do.'

M- What muthafuckin’ burger you getting dawg?

G- My job is a decision-making job, and as a result, I make a lot of decisions. I’m going to get the triple king burger.

M- What? No way muthafucka. That’s the shit that gets yo’ picture on the wall and you get that T-shirt. Your sweet Texas ass can’t hold that much shit, it’ll explode and shit.

G- You misunderestimate me.

(The Fat Burger employee clears his throat.)

Fat Burger Employee- Welcome to Fat Burger. How can I help you?

G- Hello my Latin friend. Has anyone told you that you look like Alberto Gonzales? He he he.

FBE- Ah no.

G- Well Alberto, you know. When I’m hungry, I’m hungry. And right now, I’m hungry. I’d like your finest triple king burger sir, with skinny fries and a large coke.

M- Are you sure about that man? Last chance to change your mind bitch.

G- We’re going to stay the course Michael. Whoa, I just realized. I’m really high.

M- Of course you are bitch. We smoked a big ass blunt of that chronic shit. That’s why I’m saying yo, don’t do this triple burger shit man.

G- Too late. Process my order Pedro.

FBE- What about you sir, what can I get you?

M- Oh yeah, hey G, I need to borrow some cash. Dayn’s got all my money.

G- You never have money Michael.

M- I got money, I just give it to Dayn. That way, I don’t spend money. He’s like my bank.

G- It’s okay, this one is on the government.

M- That’s what I like to hear. I’ll take a king burger with bacon, egg and cheese. I’ll take fat fries and a lemonade.

FBE- That will be $26.53.

G- Good Lord that’s a lot of money for some burgers.

M- It’s worth it yo.

(George pays for the burgers)

FBE- Here’s your change and your number sir. We’ll bring your food out to you. Have a great day.

G- Thank you my fellow American. You know, this burger is important to the American people. This business is important to America.

(George and Mike take the number and sit down next to the jukebox.)

G- I’m so high Michael. I think I might have smoked too much.

M- Hell no, once you eat that huge burger, you’re going to need to smoke again to get a 15 pound shit out yo’ ass.

G- I hope this food gets here soon…

(To be continued in episode two… the jukebox and the triple burger arrives!)

My first crush

2007-11-01T13:20:00.000-07:00

You might have read my column on my three first kisses. As much as I liked those girls at the time, none of them compared to my first crush Andrea.

Andrea was the star of the third grade. Everyone liked her. She was student president for the third grade. She was stunningly attractive. She was a straight A student. She was also a Christian Scientist.

Christian Scientists as you know are people who don’t believe in medication to heal wounds and sickness. They trust in prayer and the Lord to fix people. Good luck with that. Her mom died of cancer, with no medication, chemo, or morphine to help her. I’m sure that sucked ass.

But that’s beside the point, Andrea was perfect. And I loved her. I would chase her on the playground, push her around, do anything to know that I liked her (that’s how little boys show affection, through violence.)

One fateful afternoon as school was letting out, I heard that she was going to have a meeting for student government, so she would have to stay after school late. I was supposed to go to my babysitters (the one who only played Solitaire all day long instead of watching the kids) but I instead waited for her to get out of this meeting.

I waited out front, my hands sweating. Man, what's taking this meeting so long. What kind of input could a third grader give to help the school. My babysitter was going to be so pissed that I wasn't back yet...

Finally Andrea got out of her meeting and I stopped her before she walked home. I told her that I was meant to be with her. She looked at me like I was crazy. She walked away. I screamed at the top of my lungs, “Andrea! I love you!” over and over again. She didn’t turn around or even miss a step, she just kept walking.

I walked to the babysitter, broken hearted and completely pissed off that I missed Bob Ross on PBS to tell this girl my feelings. That’s when I saw my mom driving down the road… 'funny, she’s supposed to be a work.'

Apparently I had been gone for so long the babysitter thought I might have been kidnapped. She called my mom and told her. My mom left work early to try to find her lost son.

Man, I got it for that. My butt was spanked so hard I had to lay down face first in the back seat because my butt was going to fall off.

The whole ride home though, I didn’t think about my hurt butt, I thought about my broken heart.

I sometimes wonder what Andrea is doing now. She’s probably wildly successful, has a wonderful family and life. Thank God that she can’t take any medicine, that’s fair enough justice for what she did to my heart.

Top Ten Last Minute Costume Ideas

2007-10-31T10:12:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween everybody. I’m sure your thinking, “what the hell am I going to do? I have to go out tonight but I have no Halloween costume. I’m going to look like the only one who forgot about the holiday!” But don’t fret my pet, good ol’ Wrong is here to show you a top ten list of costumes you can put together from items in your own home.

10- Tin Foil Guy- First, grab that box of tin foil. Second, wrap your entire body with tin foil. Third, cut out holes for your eyes and mouth, be sure to not cut your eye ball out (although that might make a great costume also…) When some asks you if you’re supposed to be a robot, tell ‘em, “Hell no, I’m the Tin Foil guy!”

9- Crazy Pickle Mustache- I don’t know if you ever saw the old Saturday Night Live skit where Adam Sandler goes trick or treating with a bunch of costumes he made on the fly but he has one where he holds a pickle under his nose and says, “I’m crazy pickle mustache, gimme some candy…” You could go as that guy, just get a pickle. Easy and it’s a reference to the 90’s. Rad.

8- Sports player- Do you own a sports jersey? Put it on and say you are a sports player (which ever jersey you are wearing, you’re that guy). That’s what I did for work today, easy costume and comfortable. Bonus points if you have a Michael Vick jersey and a dead dog to drag with you.

7- Grunge Rocker- Take out that flannel shirt, those ripped jeans, put on some girl sunglasses, grow out your hair and don’t wash it, shoot up some smack and BOOM, you’re Kurt Cobain.

6- Hip Hop MC- Take out a baseball cap, tilt it to the side, put on your biggest baggiest clothes, grab your Air Force Ones, tuck your gun in your waist, smoke some pot, BOOM, you’re every wack ass MC out there.

5- 30’s Gangster- Put on your pin stripe suit, break out a big cigar, wear a fedora and everytime you speak, talk like James Cagney or Dave Chappell from his stand up comedy routine where he ends every sentence with “seeeee”. “You’ll never take me alive copper see. Let’s go dance the Charleston see.”

4- Cardboard box- This one is easy. Take a large cardboard box, cut holes for your head, arms and legs, climb into it. This one is a bitch to get in and out of the car and doorways, but you’ve got a costume now, stop your bitching.

3- Tighty whitey guy- Put on your ugliest underwear. That’s all. Now walk into the party proud to show your shit off.

2- Fat Guy- Put on your biggest clothes (see hip hop MC) and then stuff them with every single piece of clothing that will fit in there. Instant fat guy! Unless you are already fat, which makes you super fat guy, without super powers I suppose. Unless you count being able to break someone’s bones by sitting on them a super power.

1- Your roommate, friend, wife, partner or someone you know- Borrow all of the clothing items of someone you know. It help if that person has a distinct style that is easily identifiable. It helps also if you set this up with the person that you borrow them from so that they can dress up like you. When someone asks you who you are supposed to be, you point to the other person.

Hopefully this helps you get out to your party in style. Happy Halloween nerds.

Suns Preview

2007-10-30T11:25:00.000-07:00

I got punched in the stomach last summer. A couple times. It hurt harder than any other punches I’d taken before, like the Hulk and Superman both nailed me in the gut at the same time.

No, I wasn’t in a fight, not in the literal way. I was punched in the stomach by the NBA.

My Phoenix Suns were cheated…no no cheated isn’t a strong enough word. They were fucked out of the chance at a title by a series of unfortunate events, and Limney Snickets wasn’t involved.

If you don’t know what I am referring to, hate the NBA or don’t give a crap, here’s a recap- the Suns played the eventual NBA champion San Antonio Spurs in the second round of the NBA playoffs and lost 4 games to 2 in a best of 7 series. Again, lose is probably the wrong word, they were fucked 4 games to 2 by bad ref-ing, dirty play and down right cheating.

In the first game Bruce Bowen cheap-shot-kicked Amare Stoudemire in the Achilles, which pissed me off so much I threw a remote at my TV. Steve Nash, the best point guard to grace the game since Magic Johnson, was head butted by Tony Parker and was forced out of the end of that game, causing the Suns to lose the home opener.

In the second game, Bowen kneed Nash in the nuts. This is nothing new for Bowen, just a fucking lifeless, gutless play by the worst excuse for a football player wearing a basketball player’s uniform.

In game four, Robert Horry threw Nash into the scorer’s table by the Suns bench for no fucking reason besides to piss off the Suns and try to get some to come off the bench. Well, of course Amare and Boris Diaw jumped up and tried to protect their leader.

The result, Amare and Diaw were suspended for game five, in which the Suns put in a nice performance but still lost. Thanks NBA for the dumbest rule of all time! If Amare and Boris were suspended for a game for standing up, then Horry should be thrown out of the league for being a pussy basket.

After the Suns lost the series in game 6, I was permanently sick to my stomach. It only got worse when the NBA was hit with the Tim Donaghy gambling scandal. The same Tim Donaghy who ref-ed game three, where the Suns were given bad call after bad call and eventually lost by 7 points, the Spurs covered the four point spread. Coincidence?

I could go into the hundred of terrible calls from this game and the entire series and how the Suns were screwed but that would make this article 55 pages long.

Needless to say, I was pissed off all summer about this. Imagine how the Suns felt…

That’s why I am picking the Suns to win the championship this year. They might not have the biggest, baddest team but damn it, they are pissed off.

On paper, the Suns don’t look like they are a much better team than last year. They added Grant Hill and subtracted their only competent low post defender Kurt Thomas. Not the grandest trade off, Hill should help the team when Steve Nash has to hit the bench for a breather, he is a former superstar who knows how to play with his teammates well. No Kurt Thomas facing off against the Spurs and Tim Duncan in the post should make things even harder this year. Well, harder if they didn’t have a really super pissed off team.

The rest of the team is pretty much the same except for two rookies who probably won’t see the light of day from the end of the bench. But there are some hold-over players that are expected to make more on an impact than last year.

First, Boris Diaw, one year removed from the most improved player of the year award, should make some strides to becoming the player he once was (or better). With Amare coming back into the lineup last year after being hurt the season before, Diaw retreated and played hesitant and didn’t try very hard. All reports from training camp is that Diaw is in great shape (which he wasn’t last year after spending training camp eating nothing but French pastries) and playing aggressively, which has always been his weakest suit. If he tries harder, he can be the difference on the floor for the Suns. If not, he fades into the background.

Second, Marcus Banks has a look in his eyes this training camp. He’s starting to get it. After signing a big free agent contract, he sat on pine all year due to his shoot first attitude and not running the offense. But Steve Nash has taken him under his wing, as well as coaches, to try to get him more involved in the team plan and work on getting him minutes. In the preseason he looked golden, getting 22 minutes of playing time per game and a nice 9 ppg. He needs to get his assists up and keep up his tough defense and he’ll help out a ton.

The rest of the team is still amazing. Amare is a beast after his first All NBA selection coming off of microfracture surgery. He might be the best young big man since… I don’t know… Karl Malone? Moses Malone? Shawn Marion seems to be with it after asking for a trade this summer, he hasn’t made a peep since the Suns sat him down for a stern talking to. Nash is still Nash, he might just sneak out his third MVP trophy this season. Leandro Barbosa is a spark plug who provides speed and instant offense to this team. Raja Bell gives gritty heart, tough defense (should be on the NBA All Defensive team at the end of the year) and a good three point shot.

If the Suns play the Spurs in the playoffs, I expect the Suns to try a very cheap shot against Tim Duncan early on to show them that they mean business and won’t back down. I would send our biggest scrub Sean Marks to punch him in the face and then hit him with an ax in the leg, before the game starts. Just to let the Spurs know; you guys play dirty, we can play dirty too.

Hopefully the Suns will play through the adversity, say the hell with the Spurs, tell the NBA and commish David Stern to suck it and grind out a championship.

If they don’t, they will get punched by the Spurs yet again. I don’t want to get punched in the stomach again, please Suns. Give ‘em hell!

My First Movie Memories

2007-10-29T11:03:00.000-07:00

My first memories of childhood are pretty much based around movies. No wonder I ended up here in Hollywood working on… movies.

One of my very first memories was going with my then pregnant mother to see E.T. We walked into the theatre late, the previews were already starting.

At the little one-theatre movie house, they played previews for all movies, regardless of whether you were taking your kid to see ET. Fucking stupid if you ask me. Anyway, they were showing a preview for the movie HOUSE, which if you don’t remember it, was about a haunted house. The poster was this skeleton hand holding a key, it still gives me the creeps.

Anyway, as we walked in, the preview of this haunted house was on the screen. I yelled and screamed at the top of my lungs, I wasn’t going in there. Everyone turned around and stared down my mom with evil eyes. In the little town theatre I was at, everyone knew everyone else, so my mom was immediately an identifiable villain. But she wasn’t about to walk out. She dragged me in and wouldn’t let me go, even if I was crying and making a scene.

After the movie started, I remember holding my Mom’s hand. She looked at me and smiled. What came on the screen was movie magic at its finest. I was so happy at the end of the movie. I still thank my mom for dragging me inside the theatre that day.

My first memory of my father (and one of only a few memories of my father when I was young) was when he brought my brother and me to see “Return of the Jedi” the night it came out. My father was a huge Star Wars nerd, so he put so much hype into this movie before we got there. I was excited as we drove to the theatre, I wondered what I was about to see that my father was dying to watch. Who was this Han Solo and why was he maybe, kind of, dead?

We went to this huge theatre in Detroit and got there late (apparently my parents don’t like to go to movies early), we were the last people to sit down. The only problem, there were no seats to sit down. We stood at the top of theatre, my dad propping my brother and me up on a ledge, with the perfect view of the theatre. I felt like I was special, having the greatest seat in the house, sitting where I wasn’t supposed to, next to my Dad. As the 20th Century Fox orchestra came on, it sent chills down my spine. I loved the movie, the Ewoks were the cutest things on the planet... I was a little kid, give me a break!

The other thing I remember most about this night, my one year old baby brother dropped a DOT candy in the lil’ kids urinal, picked it up and ate it. Man, that was gross.

Those two memories hold such a high place in my life, they will always remind me of why I do what I do, and why I love films.

The Kite Runner- Or How i learned to stop crying and hate the Oprah

2007-10-26T15:44:00.001-07:00

Oprah needs to stop recommending books. For real. Quit. You can hold the freaking world in your hands, make every single chick in the world do what you say, but STOP TELLING PEOPLE WHAT GOOD BOOKS ARE!

She recommended the Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, and suddenly, you were an ass clown if you hadn’t read it. ‘What are you, dumb? You haven’t read the Kite Runner?!?!?! It’s the greatest book of all time, Oprah said so!”

“Read this book. It’ll change your life.” Yeah, change your life by making you want to cut your wrists.

I’ve tried to read this hunk of dog poopies 5 times. I would get 15 pages in, yawn, put it back on the shelf.

But this last time, I decided I was going to just get through it. Maybe it’s slow. Maybe I don’t know enough or care enough about Afghanistan to get into, but I will learn some things. Maybe I’m just being lame, wanting something entertaining instead of a cut your balls off slow mess of a start.

I had a bunch of free time at work, so I sat down and just powered through it. Man, what a fucking downer this piece of shit is!

After I finally broke through the stranglehold that was the first 15 pages, I figured out the entire book. Before it happened. I predicted every fucking twist, every plot device, every single possible thing that would go down.

SPOILERS ewwww ahhhhh (I hate when web shits do this warning but anyway)

I figured this author guy was going to have to try to right the wrongs by coming back to Afghanistan to find out that his buddy was dead, on page two.

I knew Hassan was Baba’s kid, that was so freaking obvious, it made me pissed off that they tried to make it the BIG reveal at page 300.

I knew that the Hassan kid was going to get raped. How? I just had a feeling. My feeling was right again.

And I knew that the author was going to have to adopt Hassan’s kid. And when they said that they were going to look for a guy in sunglasses to get Hassan’s kid, I knew that guy had to be the guy who raped Hassan and was raping Hassan’s kid now. And I knew the kid was going to try to commit suicide.

END SPOILERS (God I hate that Spoiler shit!)

So what if it was predictable? It’s still a good book right?

Hardly. It felt manipulative and super melancholy on purpose. I understand the world sucks and Afghanistan and its people went through a ton of unnecessary hardships and pain. But really, do you have to punch me in the face with it?

Did I like it? Not really. I don’t like feeling sad for no reason and guilty for living in the US. It’s not that I want a super happy book either. I’ve read ton of sad books that didn’t piss me off after I read them.

Everyone just raves over this book, but it feels like a first time writer sat down, figured out what plot twists would have people crapping their pants over, killed the shit out of every plot point and made it so that you HAD to feel sad. LAME.

Fuck you Oprah and your stupid book club.

David Lynch- My hero!

2007-10-25T11:17:00.000-07:00

“Color me see through, and tickle my favorite inch, turn the ringer off and thank God for David Lynch…” – Buck 65 “BSc”

David Lynch is my hero. Deep down, I wish I could be him, or at least be like him. He makes his own movies and art, does his own thing, doesn’t give a damn what anyone thinks. His ‘work’ is his own distinct style that no one could copy without someone saying, “Wait a second, that’s very Lynch right there!”

Who is David Lynch? If you’ve never seen any of his movies, you’re missing out. If you’ve have and still don’t know who he is, I don’t know who is either. Deep down, who is this crazy genius? I don’t know.

He’s vague in interviews, doesn’t really reveal what his works mean. Shit he doesn’t do a ton of interviews in the first place.

He’s like the crazy kid in your third grade class who would eat glue, draw bloody pictures of kids getting their heads cut off, where nothing but black and no one talked to. He grew up and figured out how to get money to make motion pictures of those pictures he drew. Not that Lynch’s style is horror, or over the top bloodiness either. But the feeling you get while watching, the sinking feeling of uneasiness and confusion, is like those drawings.

His movies are completely utterly hard to explain. Trust me I’ve tried.

I had a film class in college at ASU where we had this enormous 30 page paper and presentation due at the end of the semester about a film, its meanings, its parables, and the importance of the movie.

I chose to do my project on the Lynch film Lost Highway; one of the most complex, intricate, moving films I have ever seen. I set out from the start of the semester to make this paper my greatest thing I accomplished in college (besides the time when I drank 190 shots of beer in 190 minutes).

The first time I saw Lost Highway with my ex girlfriend, I was scared shitless. More scared than the first time I saw ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’, when I was 9. Why? It wasn’t that it was some big hack’em slash’em picture, or that it was meant to be particularly scary. It was weird. I didn’t understand it. And because I didn’t understand it, that was more scary. Plus Robert Blake fucking freaked me out… still does.

That’s probably what drew me to it, the fear and the uncertainty. I was going to conquer this picture, even if it took me all semester. I started that first week, watching the film, taking extensive notes of each scene. By the time I sat down to write my paper and presentation, I knew the movie like I wrote it. I had all the dialog memorized. I could tell you when Fred Madison was going to play a certain note on his saxophone.

I walked into class armed with a stacked paper, a well-organized presentation and confidence in my subject. I was scheduled to go next to last, so I had to wait patiently as the losers in my class presented us with topics like “Jurassic Park- Political Allegory” and “Titanic- A Love Story”. I was a shoe in to rock these kids faces off with my potent and important musings.

My turn finally came, I got up and cleared my throat. “With a show of hands, how many of you have watched The Lost Highway?” No one raised their hands, not even my teacher. I then asked how many of them had heard of the Lost Highway.

“I have the soundtrack…” one kid said.

Great. I was going to have to explain this movie that I barely understand after watching it 150 times to a group that have no fucking idea what the lost highway is; let alone its various metaphors for hell, circular damnation and lust.

I started into my presentation. Minutes later, I noticed that the class looked confused, everyone’s eyes were glossed over, including my teacher.

My professor said, “Justin, just go ahead and sit down.”

Wow. How fucking rude!

I got an A on my paper and presentation, mainly because the prof could tell I spent a lot of time on it and he was so confused, he didn’t want to have to watch the movie to see if I was right.

I felt somewhat pissed that my brilliant points were wasted on such idiots. Probably the same way David Lynch feels whenever critics, studio execs and average assholes watch his films. Maybe not though, he’s probably completely happy that they don’t understand him. Man, I wish I could be like that!

David Lynch, my hero.

Parker, the new old dog

2007-10-24T11:13:00.000-07:00

Parker, the new family dog!

I’m getting a new dog. Well, I’m not, my girlfriend is. And it’s not really a ‘new’ dog, she’s four years old. But still, I’m getting a new dog!

I can’t tell you how excited I am about this. I’ve never had a dog for myself. I’ve had family dogs. I’ve even had cats on my own. But I’ve never a owned a dog, on my own, in my apartment.

I’m nervous… a little. It’s a little bit of a bigger dog then I expected to get. But she’s really sweet and kind, doesn’t bark and is just chill.

She’s been at the pound for two months, most people look for puppies or small energetic dogs. Parker is more of a 'chill, don’t bark, smile and be polite dog,' one that doesn’t jump out at you when you go to the pound to find a dog. She was only about a week away from being put down. We saved her!

I can’t wait to have long walks in the park with Parker, hike up Runyon canyon with her, take her to the beach, take her to my friends house, and run to Target with her.

If you see me with a huge smile on my face, its because of this new little 25 pound bundle of joy in life.

House

2007-10-23T10:50:00.001-07:00

When I was a kid; my brother, my best friend growing up Monica and I would play house often.

You know the game ‘house’; you pretend to go to work, come home and then climb in bed with the girl you are playing with. Fun times, I wish adults played house. I guess they do, they just call it ‘real life’.

Anyone, on that fateful day, Monica propositioned to my brother, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

My jaw hit the floor, that’s a great idea. Why didn’t I think of that on my own!?!?! Finally I would get to see what I was confused about since the first time I accidentally walked in on my mom getting dressed for work. Why didn’t girls have a stick thingy, where was it? Did they tuck it away? Was it smaller or something?

My brother didn’t want to do it but I used a device kids sometimes employ called peer pressure. He hesitatingly pulled down his pants and showed his little wiener to her.

Formalities out of the way, onto step two! The anticipation was building. Monica took one look at my brother’s penis, gave a little “Ehh” and walked away.

“Wait!” I begged her. “Where are you going? You have to hold up your end of the bargain!”

“Nope, it wasn’t worth it,” she replied.

Ouch. Burn. My brother has never lived this story down and never will.

Dreams of Africa

2007-10-22T11:16:00.000-07:00

I have dreams… dreams of Africa. Dreams of vast deserts and jungles, filled with exotic flora and fauna. Dreams of my girlfriend and me giving food to emaciated children. Dreams of helping the Red Cross deliver vaccines to remote areas where there is no electricity or running water.

These dreams aren’t dreams in the literal sense of the word, they don’t occur during sleep. These thoughts happen everyday when I’m at work; sitting in an office, wearing dress shoes, drinking expensive coffee and not doing a damn thing to help myself or my world.

What am I doing to help anyone but myself and my (distant) dreams of making movies? Absolutely nothing.

I feel guilty.

Not super guilty mind you, just kind of guilty. Guilty enough to write about it on a blog, not guilty enough to sell all my belongings and join the peace corp. But I day dream of telling everyone goodbye, having a last huge going away party and then flying to Dafur and picking up the pieces. Or maybe Iraq. Or Afghanistan.

Maybe it’s not that I want to help so much as I want an adventure. I NEED an adventure.

99.999999 percent of people live normal lives- the American Dream, the 9 to 5, the pay checks on every Friday, the two weeks vacation, the marriage and two kids.

Why do I feel like that’s a huge boring trap?

There is so much more to explore in the world then the five places I go during my week; work, home, Sarah’s house, gym and the bar. Same thing, rinse repeat.

But I’m tied down, just like everyone else, I have student loans to pay off, and a slowly budding career to think about. I can’t just up and leave all my ties behind… or can I?

One day you try to call me or email me and I tell you I’m in Africa, 100,000 dollars in debt and loving every minute of it, don’t say that I didn’t warn you.

Weekend Notes

2007-10-19T14:09:00.000-07:00

Where my frogs at? Ribbit!

-Death Day has our first show coming up on next Friday. Man, we haven’t gotten all of our songs ready and yet we are still playing a Halloween show. (fitting that it’s Halloween for our first show…) Plus we get to DJ the party, which I’m excited about. I haven’t played out in a minute, and this show should be off the charts with all the shit I want to do. With my new equipment, it’s on bitches!

-The Lions play the Bucs in what should be an interesting game at Ford Field. You best believe I will be watching that game, considering that we have a good chance of winning. That, and the fact that Bucs fans all jumped off the bandwagon about three season ago.

-I just got an email from itunes today that says they are expanding their entire library to be 'DRM free' and still 99 cents. Thanks for that Apple, you read my blog and fix things but one problem remains. What about all the songs I bought already? Are you going to fix them so I can use them on my DJ gear? Dickfaces.

-A new bar just opened up down the street from my place called “The Happy Ending.” And no, it’s not a ‘rub and tug’ joint. Its pretty fresh, it looks like the owners took inspiration for the episode of “It’s Always Sunny” where there are no rules and 'everything goes' at the bar and crossed it with a bar in Rocky Pointe Mexico. There is a big wheel like the ‘Wheel of Fortune’ on the wall where you spin for a free drink or to set a drink special for the next twenty minutes. Plus they have a enormous lobster tank for no reason. I highly recommend it if you’re ever around Sunset and Sycamore in LA.

-What’s the saddest movie you ever saw? I’m having a hard time remembering what movies I have cried during… I know that Independence Day and sisterhood of the Traveling pants makes me cry… wait, did I just type that. I meant something tough like ‘Friday Night Lights'.

-Does anyone get stage fright when they are peeing next to a guy who you know is gay? There’s this dude at work who’s hella gay who pees next to me all the time, but I have a tough time keeping a stream. There are even those wall separators between the urinals (I call them ‘gayzer guards’ so no one can ‘gay’ze at your penis) but it doesn’t matter, my lil guy won’t work with me.

Peace out and have a good weekend people!

Kobe and Jerry, part 1 of 250

2007-10-19T10:15:00.000-07:00

I present to you a transcription of the conversation between Kobe Bryant and Jerry Buss after last night’s 126-106 win over the Seattle Supersonics.

Location- the tunnel on the way to the locker room in Bakersfield CA…

*Kobe takes off jersey and slaps a Laker Girls’ ass.

Kobe Bryant- Good game. Good game.

*The Laker Girl smiles.

Laker Girl- You want that blowjob now or after your rub down?

KB- Are you fucking kidding me? Both. And quickly before my wife gets here. And where is Taylor? I thought you were taking my dick and she’s getting my balls tonight. I have the schedule written down in my locker…

*Dr. Jerry Buss walks up with an under aged girl in each arm.

Jerry Buss- Kobe, can I talk to you for a minute?

*Kobe rolls his eyes.

KB- Go get Taylor and tell her to get her jaw ready. I want to put both of my guys in her penalty box. (To Jerry) What? What do you want now? I’m fucking busy.

JB- Scamper along girls and entertain yourselves in my office while I talk to this superstar who works for… dum dum dum… ME!!! I have some Ring Pops in my desk and a copy of High School Musical 2 on my Tivo.

*Underage girls leave. Jerry puts his arm around Kobe.

KB- Have forgotten about my contract?

*Jerry takes his arm off Kobe.

JB- Sorry, I forgot about the no touching rule for a second. It’s just that I think of you as my son, and I can put my arms around my son.

KB- Speaking of which, where’s Jeanie? I was going to have a three way with her and Phil but when I went into Phil’s office, she wasn’t there, only Phil's naked white ass trying break the contact rules of my contract again. I swear to God if shit doesn’t start getting right around here, I’ll tell a class of Kindergarteners that I want to be traded. Do you want it to come to that?

JB- No no, I’ll talk to Jeanie. I just wanted to say thanks for playing tonight. The third quarter was fantastic where you scored 16 against a group of 23 year old scrubs. I think we really put on a show for these Bakersfield rednecks.

KB- We? No no, not we. I was all me muthafucka, me. Where was that big milkdud headed Lamar Odom? What was big fucking baby Andrew Bynum doing to help me score 16 in the quarter?

JB- I meant we in a general way. Like the team.

KB- What team? You haven’t given me a team.

JB- Mitch assured me that we've put together a championship roster this year. Just look at who we added.

KB- You mean Coby Karl, a 23 year old who had cancer two times already? Yeah, you can’t pull a fast one me on me, pederast. I have the internet, I can read even if I didn’t go to college.

JB- Listen, I understand you’re pissed Kobbb but you've gotta relax. Just remember our deal? You don’t want me talking to the media about the ‘truth’.

KB- At this point, I don’t give a fuck. Tell everyone that you bought out that Colorado girl that I raped. I’d rather go to jail than be treated like this.

JB- Let’s just table this discussion until later okay. Just take my compliment on the good game and lets walk this off.

KB- Whatever…

Kobe walks away. Jerry frowns, looks like he’s going to cry.

JB- (Sings) How am I supposed to live without you?

DRM or How itunes Fucked my Life

2007-10-18T15:25:00.000-07:00

I just bought Serato Scratch Live for my turntables. It’s a hardware/software device that allows you to take digital music or any digital sound (including your own voice!) and be able to use it on special vinyl on a turntable. It’s kind of hard to explain but they give you these LP’s that have digital timecode on them and the turntables needles read the timecode and tell your computer when you are scratching, stopping the record etc.

Plus, the program makes it a ton easier to beat match records together with a wave-form display and the ability to organize virtual ‘crates’ with your playlists all lined up.

To the layman, what does that mean? It’s freaking awesome, that’s what it means.

But much to my dismay, after purchasing the program and importing my itunes folder into Serato’s easy interface I realized I was missing a ton of songs.

What the fuck?

Apparently, Serato doesn’t recognize the default setting for itunes files, which is easily fixed by saving the files as MP3’s. It’s time consuming but it’s worth it.

I was in the process of doing this when I clicked onto a file that I purchased off the itunes website and it said that it was unable to process because this file was DRM protected.

Again, what the fuck?

I understand the principle behind DRM, (which stands for ‘Dick Rammed in Myass”). Apple wants to make sure that you can’t pirate their shit right? That’s fine, but does Apple also want it so that I can’t play my fucking songs on my dj equipment? That’s not cool!

I bought a bunch of songs from the itunes, thinking that I would be scratching them soon on my Serato enhanced turntables. Now, I’m stuck figuring out a way to crack this DRM shit just so I can play these songs at this party I’m DJaying next week! I already downloaded one program that was supposed to help but all I think it did was give me spyware. Lame.

I guess I can burn every song onto a CD, put it back into my computer and then have to name it. Fucking time wasting piece of cat shit.

I hate you Apple. I hate you itunes. I hate you Steve Jobs.

My First Three Kisses

2007-10-17T09:22:00.000-07:00

Everyone remembers their first kiss, unless you were drunk when it happened. I really consider three kisses to be my first kiss. Why three you ask? Well you’re about to find out, just keep reading, you impatient a-hole!

First Kiss Number One-

Second grade, there was a beautiful little girl named Jenny in my day care, which was really some lady’s house that she packed 15 kids into. It was your normal set up, kids stacked on kids, making noise and getting in trouble. My babysitter, Moana, would make us ‘ants on a log’ and graham crackers covered in peanut butter, basically anything with peanut butter, she was good like that. She wasn’t exactly the greatest babysitter, she would play solitaire for hours and hours while we ran around hitting each other, drawing on her walls and fucking her place up, without her even looking up for a second from her 2524th game of the day.

Jenny would always play with the fake kitchen play set while I played with the Atari 2600 on the old dial style television with rabbit ears (yeah, I’m that old… shut the fuck up.) Jenny would wear these hot ‘Osh’Kosh’By’Gosh’ overalls, a pink plaid button up shirt, ‘jelly’ sandals and pigtails. Man, if I ever see a girl rocking that outfit in LA, I’d have to marry her right there.

One day, a group of the kids got together and decided to play hide and go seek. As the sucker who was ‘IT’ counted down from 20, I looked for a place to hide. When 15 kids play hide and go seek in a two bedroom house, you kind of run out of hiding spots fast. I’d run to the closet, Timmy’s in there, in the cabinet, nope Will’s there.

I checked under the bed and there was Jenny, laying flat and quiet. I slide in with her and we laid there, not saying a word, her hand barely touching mine. There was so much palpable adolescent sexual tension in the air, talk about scary for my young self.

The IT kid yelled out that he found his prey. Jenny and I looked at each other, a smile and giggle happened between us. Suddenly, I had this rush, this sensation, this urge I had never had before. I had to kiss her. I had to do it, RIGHT AWAY.

I attacked her face with my own, part head butt, part kiss from hell. My forehead careened into her nose and then I made a quick move to crane my neck to get my lips to hers, like a dolphin jumping out of the water or a cat licking an entire wall. My lips hit her chin and then stuck on her lips, where I pressed so hard, I could feel her neck crack. We held our lips together for probably a tenth of a second, but it felt like two hours.

She coiled back in horror, grabbed her nose, and ran to tell Moana what had happened. All the kids laughed at me for hours afterwards, I was dubbed the “Kissing Bandit” by Moana.

Was I embarrassed? Yes. Would I take it back? No way in hell.

First Kiss Number Two-

In Michigan during the summer, there isn’t much to do. Kids find new ways to entertain themselves with varied results. The entire summer after my fifth grade year was spent out doors; riding my bike, building tree forts and playing war games with the kids in the neighborhood. When we would get sick of that, there was Nintendo, door bell ditch and Yo! MTV Raps. But all of that was scrapped when a new girl, Teresa, moved 5 houses down from me.

Teresa was the sexiest 6th grader of all time. She was a natural looking Italian with dark curly hair and guess what, she had gotten boobs already. Not big ones mind you, but nice little perky boobs that required the starter bra kit. Plus she ran track so her legs were like tree trunks with a butt that could move mountains. I tried every day to run into her, be around her, get to know her.

She worked at Food Town, the local grocery store, where I think her Dad owned the store. She would hand out samples of pineapple to the customers and basically look cute. I would ride my bike there everyday and eat pineapple samples until my mouth burned and I couldn’t taste food for weeks, due to the high acidity of the pineapple.

I thought to myself, “I have to kiss this girl, dear God, how!?!?!?!”

One fateful day in late June, God answered my prayers. All the kids were hanging out at the community pool, including Teresa, who was wearing a bikini that made me quiver. God moved a cold front from Lake Michigan to Milan, creating one heck of a storm. We all ran for cover. “What are we going to do now?” Teresa invited us all to her basement, JACKPOT.

Her basement was completely different from mine. My basement was a place where ghosts, goblins and creatures lurked behind stacks of moldy Playboys and an old long freezer where we stored meat from the 1950’s. Her basement was a converted entertainment room, like one that you see in richer Midwest homes, filled with nice shag carpeting, a big screen TV and a pool table.

Teresa, two of her friends and me and two of my guy friends huddled together in the basement, wrapping up in blankets and towels. “What are we going to do now?” I asked again.

“Truth or Dare,” replied Teresa.

At this point, I had only played truth or dare a couple of times, all with dudes I knew. Truth or Dare with young guys consists of daring each other to go pee on something or picking truth and asking who you think is cute in your class.

We all agreed to play the game and by luck of the draw, one of Teresa’s friends was deemed worthy of the first round draft pick. She asks Teresa the fateful question, “Truth or Dare.”

“Dare,” she replies.

“I dare you to sit on Justin’s lap and French kiss him for 10 seconds.”

Teresa looked at me and smiled. My heart skipped a beat. "Whoa, this is what Truth or Dare is like with girls?!?!?!?! Man, this is fucking awesome!"

The only problem, I had never Frenched anyone before. Fear filled my insides, what the hell was I going to do? I knew how Frenching looked on the movies. The boys talked about it, how you were supposed to rub your tongue against the girl’s in some sort of pattern. But talking and doing are two completely different things.

She climbed onto my lap and smiled again, wrapping her big strong legs around my waist.

My breath… crap, why didn’t I brush my teeth before I went to the pool!? Dammit!

She leaned in a kissed me, first a peck and then her mouth opened and she forced her tongue into my mouth. It was all wet and sloppy and she tasted like she just drank a glass of milk. She might have frenched before, but man, she wasn’t really good at it. Shit, I was ten times worse. But at the time, it felt like heaven.

The crowd chanted “10, 9, 8…” a countdown to the end of bliss… then it was all over.

Teresa climbed off me, this time with a coy smile on her face.

This was the first of many Dare French kisses I had with Teresa and her friends. I would try to start a game daily, but it seemed like it would only happen when the girls wanted to play. But I never had a ‘real’ kiss with Teresa, only when we played Truth or Dare. Man, I wanted to have a real kiss with her…

First Kiss Number Three-

Sixth grade skate day. Our school had tradition of taking its sixth graders to Shadow Mountain skate center on the last day of school. It was a rite of passage from the dark years of elementary school to the promise land of middle school.

Everyone looked forward to this day and talked about it constantly. “What are you going to do first when we get to the Skate Center?” “I’m going to play hours of free arcade games!” “I’m going to eat 50 free pizzas!” “I’m going to slow skate with Wendy!”

I had a mission for that day of my own- French kiss Kesina Tkupek.

Kesina was a gorgeous strawberry blonde with a round face that just made you want to squeeze her cheeks. We flirted every day in class, slugged each other in the arms, told other people how much we liked each other, those people in turn told us.

The Shadow Mountain Skate Center was a haven of 70’s motifs that we never replaced. Bright orange and brown fabric covered large decorative wooden cut outs placed randomly over the yellowing concrete walls. The industrial carpet was worn down to the floor. The music they played was dated, kids don’t want to listen to “Shake you Booty” disco music in 1990, but they didn't care. The only modern thing was the video games.

After biding my time with Kesina, skating and talking, eating and playing games, it was ‘last skate’. FUCK ME! I didn’t pull the trigger yet, how the hell am I going to do this?

Apparently Ms. Tkupek had the same feeling. There was an unspoken oath between us that we were going to kiss. She grabbed me by the hand and tugged me towards the ‘smoking room’. Yep, back in the day, they had room dedicated to smoking, where the already yellowing walls were coated in brown tar and it reeked for smoke.

No kids were allowed in there, especially on Sixth Grade graduation day. But we didn’t follow the rules.

We barraged in their and BOOM, her and I immediately kissed. I don’t know who started it, I like to think that we both did. After a summer of playing Truth or Dare, I had my technique down. This was my first true French kiss without someone instructing us to do so.

We finished just as the door opened and one of our teachers pulled us out of there.

We walked onto to the bus, holding hands. At the time, I was sure we would get married and be together forever. Man, was I wrong.

Top Forty Radiohead Songs

2007-10-16T10:47:00.000-07:00

As many of you know, I’m in love with Radiohead. I might have a serious problem; I’m addicted to them. I think about them constantly, like I’m dating Thom Yorke, Jonny Greenwood, Ed O'Brien, Colin Greenwood and Phil Selway all at the same time and I have to juggle my time with them.

With the release of their new release “In Rainbows”, I have had a hard time figuring out where it stands in the pantheon of Radiohead’s releases. In order to evaluate the worth of each album, I’ve looked at every albums’ track list and I’ve compiled a list of their greatest hits. (If any of you want a couple burned CD’s of songs off this list, shoot me an email and I’ll get them to you!)

Man, was this fucking tough to do.

40- Creep- Pablo Honey- This one has to make the list somewhere right? The band’s first hit, I still dig it even though most Radiohead fans and the band themselves don’t like it.

39- High and Dry- The Bends- Another hit, this one will always remind me of college days drinking beers at noon.

38- Karma Police- OK Computer - Should be higher on the list but again since I’ve heard it a million times on the radio, it’s hard for me to move it up. One of the best Radiohead videos ever.

37- Lucky- Ok Computer- This is a good song for when you’re down and just wish you could catch a break.

36- Black Star- The Bends- This is a song that will always remind me of Jeff Woods drinking wine on my patio, he always requests this song. Rightfully so, it’s a good talk and drink wine song.

35- Bodysnatchers- In Rainbows- A nice fuzzy up tempo song from the new album, that’s sounds like Radiohead rocking out for fun with no one recording.

34- There There (The Boney King Of Nowhere)- Hail To The Thief- On record, this song is good but not great. But live, man this songs rocks your face off with the large drum that Johnny Greenwood plays.

33- Everything in its Right Place- Kid A- A hard song to place on this chart, its either one of my favorites or it slips, daily. I hate that Vanilla Sky uses this song so well, cause I’d love to put it in a movie.

32- You and Whose Army?- Amnesiac- A great song when it is raining and you just want to sit out side, smoke a bowl and write. A simple song but beautiful nonetheless.

31- Nude- In Rainbows- This might be a lot higher on the chart in a two weeks after I listen to it more. I love this song so much and it has a lot of great layers in it. The lyrics will break your heart if you have ever cheated on, or been cheated, in a relationship before.

30- Fake Plastic Trees-The Bends- The first sign of Radiohead’s ballad capacities, it speaks volumes of their views on the world and the fakeness in it.

29- House Of Cards- In Rainbows- Another new one that might place higher after I listen to it more. It has a guitar part that is very catchy and Thom wailing some awesome harmonies before the song even begins. The first line, “I don’t want to be your friend, I just want to be your lover” is a classic.

28-A Punch Up At A Wedding (No No No No No No No No)- Hail To The Thief- I listened to this song on repeat when I was at film school. A classic piano line with a drum beat that sounds almost hip-hop like, it gets stuck in my head all the time.

27-Pyramid Song- Amnesiac- A beautiful song with beautiful lyrics. Has a great classic Radiohead build up and break down. The classical instrument back up makes it haunting.

26- Planet Telex- The Bends- The first song on the Bends, it has big powerful drums and a sign of things to come on future Radiohead albums, spacey synth piano that drips with reverb.

25- Punchdrunklovesicksingalong- My Iron Lung- This a great haunting song that never made a real album but is a total favorite of mine. The lyrics are scary, the world is coming to an end, firebombs are dropping, is it the girl’s fault?

24- Fog (Again)(Live)- Com Lag (2plus2isfive)-
Also called “Alligators in the New York Sewers”, this song has some of the saddest lyrics and singing. Also a B-side, this one just makes you wonder about how sad Thom was when he wrote it.

23- Blowout - Pablo Honey- One of only a few Pablo Honey songs that I like, this one is Radiohead’s favorite off the album and it makes sense, it’s the one that shows promise of things to come. Also the lyric, “Everything I touch turns to stone”, I can relate.

22- Morning Bell- Kid A- A multilayered song with tons of stuff going on in it, especially the end, which builds with processed vocals and guitars.

21- 15 Step- In Rainbows- The opening track on the new album, this is the most ‘Radioheady’ song on the album with electric drums, spacey synth lines and a sample of little kids yelling YEAH! Awesome.

20- 2+2=5 (The Lukewarm)-Hail To The Thief- A very underrated song, this one is about George Bush to me, although Yorke says its not about current politics. Bullshit. Man, this song builds harder and faster than anything they have done in a while with a good old-fashioned fuzz synth and lyric holler at the end.

19- Jigsaw Falling Into Place- In Rainbows- A night of drunken hook ups is the topic here. The up-tempo beat and Thom’s monotone voice set this song off right before he gets pissed and starts yelling.

18- The National Anthem- Kid A- I had a hard time placing this song. Its not one that you can listen to on repeat often, but it is one of the most complex RH songs of all time. Powerful and full of every instrument ever made.

17- Dollars & Cents- Amnesiac- Simple song with not a lot of craziness, but this one always gets me. I can listen to this one all day long and not get sick of it. A good song to write to also.

16- Where I End And You Begin (The Sky Is Falling In)- Hail To The Thief- A great song about relationships, it has some really cool ambient noise in it as well as a great baseline.

15- How to Disappear Completely- Kid A - Thom has stated in interviews that this is his fav song. I can see why, the lyrics of loneliness and the build up are of legend.

14- Weird Fishes/Arpeggi- In Rainbows- Just a cool song, it has some serious backbeat and the lyrics are so dreamy… man I love Thom Yorke… kiss me Thom. Sorry, lost myself for a second. The ending of this one is great also, breaks down to build back up.

13- Talk Show Host- Looking Back At...- The sexiest RH song ever, but at the same time, its not about that, its more about stalking. Just a simple cool song, I really had a hard time placing this one also, its that good but just a little too simple to move up. Also, my girl’s favorite RH song.

12- Exit Music (For A Film)- OK Computer- One of the most heart breaking songs of all time. A true epic soundscape full of rises and falls, lyrics that hurt and make you want to run away.

11-In Limbo- Kid A- The guitar melodies on this song are things of legend, it starts as a pretty normal song with a few samples that busts into a crazy sound smear that will make you reach for your volume knob.

10- Bullet Proof...I Wish I Was- The Bends- The song on the Bends that always gets me. Shows a level of weakness and hurt unlike the other songs on the album, RH also plays with ambient guitar sounds in the background on this one, a sign of much more to come on future albums.

9- Myxomatosis (Judge, Jury & Executioner)- Hail To The Thief- A fucking banger, this one is the first song I put on when I listen to HTTT. It shows a level of power and vulnerability, the fuzzy guitar (is it a guitar?) and drums just kill you. A great song when you’re pissed off and you beat someone up.

8- All I Need- In Rainbows- This song is an instant classic to me. I could listen to this one all day and it will never get old. The lyrics reveal a level of needing someone that can only lead to heartbreak. The song starts so mellow and cool and then builds to crashing end.

7- Subterranean Homesick Alien - OK Computer- A song about aliens taking you away… or a veiled reference to something else? Either way, it’s a classic full of distant guitar echoing against synths and great drums that crescendos into a head-nodding chorus.

6- Idioteque-Kid A- Another song that just makes you move, the quick electronic drums and the crazy ondes martenot or synth line just rocks. Probably the most techno sounding RH song.

5- Airbag- OK Computer - Ok Computer songs are very hard to place on this thing, especially the first couple of songs that are all classics. This one just plain rocks out. If you don’t know this song and you need a description, buy the freaking album already.

4- Knives Out- Amnesiac- Man, this song is my favorite… okay, maybe not. I had it at number one for most of the night but I moved it down based on the fact that it’s not nearly as complex and crazy as these other songs in the top three. This song does it for me, it’s so simple that it was almost left off the album. Sometimes simple is better, as its combination of sad lyrics and melancholy chords makes me want to feel sorry for myself.

3- Optimistic- Kid A- Like the title says, this is a feel good song… or is it? Even when Radiohead is trying to be positive (‘The best you can is good enough’), they come off negative. This one is a banger with a huge turn around at the end (surprise, a RH song with a huge build up ending!) The guitar and drums reminds old time Radiohead fans what they used to sound like (and are reforming into again). No crazy electronic elements, just good old RH jamming out.

2- Paranoid Android - Ok Computer- Like three songs in one, it has distinct parts that come and go, with a sinister tone of alienation, heart break and authorial anger. The buildup in the middle of the song bangs your head, the ending makes you hold up your lighter to the sky until they go right back into the crazy build up. Should be number one on most people’s list but I am not like most people…

1- I Might Be Wrong - Amnesiac- By the count on my itunes, I have listened to this song 312 times, which is a grossly under estimated number. What can I say about this song to describe its strengths and meaning to me? It has an amazing guitar line that rolls with the song, lyrics that make you ‘think about the good times and never look back’ and a baseline that kicks in at a time when you don’t expect it. At the end, the little guitar break down, spacey drum machine drums, Thom wailing still sends a chill up my spine. The whole thing just speaks to me.

Writing this column really made me re-evaluate what I like about Radiohead and each of their albums.

Taking a look at my list, there are 2 Kid A, 2 Amnesiac, 3 OK Computer, 1 HTTT, 1 In Rainbows and 1 Bends song in the top ten.

I used to think that Amnesiac is the greatest album of all time. Period. Couldn’t tell me different.

But after creating this list, its really tough to say one is better than the other. Kid A’s great. So is OK Computer. This new one, In Rainbows, is pretty damn good. Like Amnesiac, it has more of an intimate feel and a back to basics sound for the band. It suits them well.

Does the fact that there are 3 OK Computer songs in the top ten make OK Computer the best? I’m not sure. I still love me some Amnesiac…

But is it that the best? Maybe not. Maybe so. I might be wrong….

The Art of Dancing

2007-10-15T10:23:00.000-07:00

I’m a dancer. What can I say, I like to dance. I might not be very good at it, shit, I might be the whitest, dorkiest dancer of all time. But when I dance, dammit, it’s contagious.

People see me dancing and start getting ants in their pants. It might be my strong hip movement or my awkward hand gestures but they can’t help themselves but get up and shake their shit.

This weekend, I was just shaking it with Sarah (my all time fav dance partner) at a bar with no dance floor. It started with a little shaking, nothing more than a hip movement or a slide. But the hips don’t lie, and soon, we were BUSTING A MOVE.

People saw us and thought, “Man I wish I was dancing too.” (Or maybe I just thought so…)

Mike made fun of us, well really me, because of my dancing prowess. But soon, he would eat his words.

Others joined in and soon, it was Dance Party USA. I was breaking out dance moves like ‘waxing the globe’, ‘the sprinkler’, and my newest move, “Push the Floor down.” Push the floor down is sort of like “Raise the roof” but a hundred times cooler. Man, it was onnnnnnnn.

Sarah countered with a point perfect ROBOT and soon, the fire sprinklers came on because we set the room on FIRE.

We left shortly after we got the party dancing. That’s the key to being a true dancer; you pick your spots and end on a high note.

The next time you are at a party that’s lame, just give me and Sarah a call, we’ll turn up the heat.