jonny's blog

Walking Over the Bridge of Spies

2006-10-14T17:38:00.000-07:00

What a strange, little world this internet is.

I was going through my clothes, doing the annual purge. Getting rid of clothes I haven’t worn in years to make room in my closet for more important things, like dirty clothes and porn. I came across a shirt that was made for me after I won this silly, little blogging contest thing a few years back. Man, back then I was posting about my life at least daily. Now, I make an entry about as often as some stupid celebrity does something they do rarely (I lack the energy for a decent analogy, or even a bad one).

Anyway, I found myself going through the archives of that game and how hated I was at the time (it was based on survivor and I had the gall to form an alliance, and use it effectively). It was an interesting time, not so much for the contest but for the company I kept. I was blogging daily, IMing ad nauseum, and fairly well connected in online terms. Now, I IM about as often as I blog. Still, that period left me with a handful of friends that transferred into real life that I still hang around today (albeit with less frequency).

It got me thinking about the cycle of friends in life. Seems to me, and this isn’t a scientific study by any means, that we (or mayhaps just me) cycle through friends about twice a decade. Grade school, junior high, high school, college, post-college, California part 1, California part 2 (the present). All of my friends fit into one of those sections of time. Some overlap to the next. Rarely does someone make the leap past that. I don’t have any friends from grade school anymore. I wouldn’t mind hearing from any of them, but what little digging I’ve done has left no results. Surprisingly, I’m the one easiest found on the internet, which means no one is looking for me. Junior high was the same group for me. I have two high school friends I still communicate with on a regular basis. Occasionally, I will have lunch when I’m back home with one of them (the other isn’t there). My college friends have a drop-off rate of about three per year, leaving me with about six or seven that are in my collective, of course at least three of them will likely remain my best friends for the remainder. Post-college brought about a couple lifers and couple dropper-offers. California part 1 is meshing nicely with California part 2, but there is erosion. No longer is my circle built around my former job, which is good. I also got a couple lifers out of those groups as well.

It’s neither here nor there, this study, just a look around. I wonder how many of the people I’m currently hanging out with will make to the next evolution. Given that most of last year centered around the movie and I’ve already lost most of those guys, well, it’s looking good for those still around.

The other thought in all of this is how important blogging used to be to me. I had stories with a point. I had an audience (I honestly don’t know who even remembers I have this blog, much less who reads it, which is a good thing) and I had an all-consuming addiction. Thankfully, I’ve put my focus in other areas. Still, I’m hopelessly nostalgic for some of those peeps that I merely chatted with on a regular basis or followed their lives online. Some got married I’m sure, maybe some died, who knows. Just strange that this is certainly a new phenomena. My parents did not have these issues.

As for me, I was in New York for a job for a couple weeks and I’ve been chilling and writing since my return. I did a five-day fast for a variety of reasons which was another weird experiment. I never thought that I, who would contemplate gnawing off my own arm if I skipped lunch, would make it five days on nothing but cranberry juice and a few spices and water. I also enjoyed the dizziness. I may be starting something with a new girl, but since the last fifteen or so didn’t make it past laundry day, I’ll be holding off on details there for a spell. I also have had meetings of a career nature but nothing to report yet. Holding pattern all around it seems.

Now, go watch Battlestar Galactica because it’s quite possibly the greatest show that television has produced.

Anyone can toe the line, except for me 'cause I'm a disco dancer

2006-06-10T16:45:00.000-07:00

I feel like being crunk this morning. I can’t explain it, I’ve just had this crunktastic feeling in my bones for the past few weeks just screaming to get out. I’m sure part of it is my impending, yet quite annual, unemployment. This is my fourth official year where I’ve been bouncing between jobs in an effort to become somewhat happier and more well-adjusted. It appears to be working, though it’s not without its drawbacks.

For example, these days I’m having trouble getting out of bed in the morning. I’m not depressed. At least I don’t feel depressed. I do think my body thinks it’s supposed to be depressed and is reacting accordingly. Still, I just bought a new bike which I’ve been riding the shit out of on the weekends. Just can’t seem to make myself get ready early enough to ride it to work. Oh well, only a couple more weeks left. And that’s it, that not so crunk feeling.

It’s probably at this point that I should admit I have no idea what “crunk” means. The only legitimate use of it I’m familiar with is that Mary J. Blige song where she’s quite excited to be getting crunk. I imagine it’s one of those words originating in the black community before being co-opted by white suburbanites, as most things black are, in order give them some form of identity which they are lacking anything of the sort in this day and age. I could be wrong though.

But I digress. I do that a lot. It happens to people that seldom have points to their stories.

X-Men the Last Stand (hopefully)

2006-05-31T10:17:00.000-07:00

In a word. Cheap. There’s a lot to like to about X-Men: The Last Stand, but there are so many moments, so many stories, lines, choices that in the end just felt cheap. The third, and least intriguing film in the mutant oeuvre, is once again filled with entirely too many characters and has little time to service all, if not most of them. Cheap.

The central “villain” in this installment is not man nor mutant, but a “cure”; a treatment which will suppress the mutant gene and turn supermen into just men. There are mutants against the cure (“There’s nothing wrong with us,” Storm [Halle Berry] cries). There are mutants for the cure (well, at least one, Rogue [Anna Paquin], who just wants a hug). It could’ve been an interesting ethical dilemma if the film actually spent any time on it. Instead, it takes the cheap and easy way out, the bad guys gather to destroy the cure and the X-Men fight to stop them. Cheap. Cheap.

There’s a subplot, and it is quite, quite sub, that involves the resurrection of Jean Grey (Famke Janssen, whose character died at the end of the last film) as the Phoenix, an all-id version of Jean that is uncontrollable and all-powerful. The story this plot is based on is widely held as one of the greatest comic book stories ever told, so it’s disappointing that it is barely serviced here and that some of the choices around that storyline (like, the body count), while satisfying in a film context were wholly disappointing to my inner comic geek.

New cast additions like Ellen Page (who plays intangible teen Kitty Pryde), Vinnie Jones as the Juggernaut, and Ben Foster (the winged Angel) are a mixed bag. Page is a welcome addition and has some nice moments with her powers, but the few scenes where she becomes the spoiler in the Bobby/Rogue relationship are fairly pointless. Even more pointless is the addition of Foster, who really serves no purpose whatsoever, despite the promise from the intro that he will be a major player. I think he has maybe three lines in the entire movie. There’s a sequence at the end where the Juggernaut plows through walls chasing the ghostly Pryde which is one of the best CGI’d things in the whole film and all-around exciting, until it’s tagged with a joke that is so simple and easy that it just cheapens the whole thing. Cheap. Cheap. Cheap.

Berry finally gets a little more time in the spotlight (as much time as someone can get in a film that tries to service about seventeen major players) and she does reasonably well. This is probably the first time that I felt the film Storm was connected at all to the comic Storm. Hugh Jackman is always fun as Wolverine and he gets a nice battle sequence all to himself. Famke Janssen masters the art of standing around looking evil (or like she has some gastrointestinal issues, it’s hard to tell) but the effects surrounding her turn as the Phoenix are pretty intriguing. Ian McKellan’s Magneto goes from conflicted demagogue to mustache twirling bad guy fairly quickly. Anna Paquin’s Rogue is another blink and you’ll miss her character who is saddled with an important role (pro-cure mutant) but given nothing to support it (like, you know, a scene or two). Kelsey Grammer expertly captures the wise and jovial Beast, a nice addition (and the film snags a couple points for sneaking in his catch phrase “oh my stars and garters”).

A feeling of excitement and gravitas hangs over the entire film, I just couldn’t help wishing that it was in the hands of a better director, someone that could tackle some of the bigger issues it tries to float. Given that the comics always used mutants to parallel the oppressed in our society – African-Americans in the 60s and homosexuals more recently – groups that there isn’t a cure for, it’s a tad offensive that the movie doesn’t give the cure story the time it deserves. It’s also entirely cheap that people so against the cure in the first place, aren’t above resorting to it in the heat of the moment. I guess principles are just there when it’s convenient. Director Brett Ratner, who does well with the action sequences, just doesn’t have the depth to follow in the footsteps of Bryan Singer, who managed to pull off the impossible with the first two films – transferring the comics to film while pleasing both audiences and topping himself with the second installment.

All this being said, the film is well-paced and has some exciting moments that are beautiful to witness on screen. It’s a decent popcorn flick, but that’s a little beneath where I like my mutants. It’s kind of like Wolverine taking down an opponent with a swift kick to the crotch. It was funny, but a little cheap. C+

Now, onto the spoilers (big ones) and a little more details. Continue at your own peril.

Jean killing both Cyclops and Professor X, which I've known about for awhile was a little much. I think it played out decently, but Prof. X (a character I don't even care that much for) being taken down by Jean in a snit is just retarded. I'm less upset by the death of cyclops because he was the most miscast character in all of the films, but that's a pretty shitty way to send off one of your lead characters, an off-screen death that is never given a second thought.

I also think them using the cure on Magneto was completely disgusting and royally out of character. The X-Men are about the higher ground, the greater good and they would've found another way or they would've argued about it more. They wouldn't be opposed to this idea for months and use it in a moment of weakness. That's not them. These are SUPERheroes. They need to act like it.

It's such a little thing, but Kitty calling Juggernaut a "dickhead" also fell flat. It's an easy joke where Kitty, one of the most intelligent characters in the comics wouldn't lower herself that way. And as much as I loved Kitty (and the actress) I don't see what the point was of her and Bobby - to make Rogue jealous to get the cure? Rogue, in both films and comics was a little deeper than that.

And while I fully have no issue with Rogue getting cured herself - that is definitely a choice she would've made. Couldn't we have seen the struggle a bit more? Couldn't she have realized her friends needed her help and she was being selfish but taken a hit in the heat of battle or something? To sneak off, get cured off-screen and come back with little fanfare was a disservice to both character and actress. Personally, I would've loved if in the heat of the battle, Rogue showed up to help take down Magneto with her powers and support her friends and teammates only to get the cure after. It would've, again, fit in with that whole "superhero" thing.

Again, for all my snarking, there was some good things about the movie. Mostly, the display of powers and the FX surrounding them. Still, a disappoint in a lot of ways.

Don't Stop, Get it Get it

2006-05-29T13:42:00.000-07:00

It’s a well-known fact, at least among the roommate sect, that I have a tendency to throw a tantrum when it comes to dealing with utilities. There was that time that I cancelled my electricity because they were annoying me. “Fuck you,” I shouted. “I will get internet at the coffee shop and will read by candlelight before giving you another penny.” My roommate at the time felt otherwise and restored service in his name. Always pragmatic, that one.

It should come as no surprise to anyone that I had a similar incident with the cable company. First, I will admit that I already have a huge issue with monopolies. It makes a business content to screw over their consumer because they have nowhere else to go. It’s frustrating. So, that’s where I was starting from. Let me walk you through it. I only get basic basic absolutely basic cable, meaning the big six networks, some Spanish channels, PBS and WGN. In late April, two of those channels – NBC and CBS – stopped coming in. NBC was so bad that it hurt my eyes to look at it. The fuzz and lines on the screen made it difficult to make out the person speaking, much less any facial expression (which is tragic when it comes to watching The Office). CBS was so bad that my tivo would no longer recognize it as a channel.

I called Comcast and they said they would have to come out to try and fix it. I scheduled an appointment for the following Saturday from 10 – 12. At 2pm, I got a call that they wouldn’t be able to come out that day, they were just too busy. I called Comcast back and told them how I was going to actually be out of town for the next two weeks for work and they promised that they would take care of it as soon as I got back and they would credit me for every day my service was down.

Swell.

I called them up when I was finished with my show and set up another appointment. It was Monday and the first thing they had was Sunday. I had to work that Sunday but said I could take a couple hours off if they could guarantee they would be there. No problem, the guy swore, they would be there. Nothing will stop them from showing up between 10 and 12. Nothing at all.

You get where this is going, right?

Again, it was about 2pm when I got a call that they were outside of my apartment. Well, I told them, I’m not there any more. I had to go back to work. They said I could call the main line to reschedule. No problem. I called the main line. I complained that I’ve tried twice now to get my cable fixed and that I’ve been without it for a month. The guy on the other end said he was really sorry for the way I’d been treated and that he would get someone out as soon as possible. I told him that I was actually off the next day (Monday) and that they could come out any time that day.

“The earliest thing we have is Tuesday.”

“But I work on Tuesday. You can’t do anything tomorrow given how you’ve missed appointments twice?”

“We can’t do that. We can come Tuesday.”

“I work Tuesday. Do you have anything on Sunday?”

“Sunday’s booked, but we could do the following Tuesday.”

“But I work, and since you’ve missed the appointment twice, I don’t really want to lose pay when I have no guarantee that you’ll show up.”

“I promise you we will be there.”

“Someone already did that and no one showed up. Not buying it. Can’t you just push someone else’s appointment off since you’ve treated me so poorly.”

“We could never do that to a customer. That would be unethical.”

“Um, didn’t you kind of do it twice to me?”

“The earliest we have is Tuesday.”

“Fine, then cancel it. Cancel my cable. Cancel everything.”

“I’m sorry, that department is closed, you’ll have to call them tomorrow.”

“Can I talk to a supervisor?”

Leland assured me that he was a supervisor, which I found odd given that he answered the phone and would continually talk over me. I hung up the phone and immediately went online to DirecTV. Within about ten minutes I had an appointment for the following day to set me up with new service at a cost less than Comcast.

Haha! Fuck you, Leland! I win!

When I called the next day after getting my shiny new satellite dish to cancel my cable service they hit me with two sucker punches. One, apparently to keep my cable internet and cancel basic service would cause my monthly fee to go up by about twenty five dollars. That makes sense. Two, Comcast has apparently been charging me for cable boxes for a year and a half. Boxes I don’t have. The credit for that means that I have about three months to figure out a new ISP before giving the final “eat a dick” to Comcast. The problem is that I don’t want to lose my email addresses. I use them professionally. But still, I can’t let Leland win. I won’t.

I love the DirecTV though. It’s so pretty and has lots and lots of channels. I still can’t find anything to watch, but at least everything comes in clear.

ugh

2006-04-11T22:16:00.000-07:00

My stomach hurts. It hurts in one of those consistent sharp pains kind of way. When it first started, last Sunday, god's day, I thought it might be food poisoning, but then no vomitting. I thought it might be acute appendicitis but it's on the wrong side. I thought about other things (maybe it's a giant fart waiting to get out!) but mostly I thought, "man, I wish my side didn't hurt so much."

I figured it would go away. Alas, it's Tuesday. It has not. I don't know if there's a correlation, but I have had burritos the last five or six meals. Maybe that burnt a whole in my stomach. I don't know. I just know I hurt. This is worse than that time I had stigmata.

Luckily, with my handy dandy new health insurance, I'm going to the doctor just as soon as I find the time. The time I find will be soon as I don't want another situation like the car incident of Friday, April 7th (tm).

The Car Incident of Friday, April 7th (tm) began probably four months ago when my car started making a noise. I did what any normal person would do. I listened to the sound, studied it really. For four months. When I was driving down the street and my car kind of sort of not really exploded but had smoke wafting from the hood like it was a Motley Crue video, I thought to myself, "maybe I should've checked that out sooner." Five hundred dollars later I'm here with this stomach pain and empty space on my wall where new DVDs are supposed to be.

So, the doctor.

Part of it is fear. Every time I go to the doctor it's because I have pneumonia or broke a bone. It's never anything fun. I'm also worried that since I stopped doing my biannual MRI a few years ago that my shaking condition has gotten worse and they may finally diagnose me with parkinson's since I'm no longer too young for early onset.

And worrying about it has given me an ulcer. Hey, that's it. It's an ulcer. Who needs that House guy?

I Swallowed a Bug

2006-03-20T00:08:00.000-08:00

I started to tell a story to some friends of mine the other day that involved the holy trinity of the internet – myspace, instant messenger and blogging. It took too long to explain what those things were that I simply trailed off without telling the story. This circle of friends all owning their forties like Mary Lou Retton on a pummel horse were so far removed from online culture that I could’ve been speaking Aramaic and it would’ve had the same affect.

What’s interesting to me is how fast our generations are advancing. When I was a kid, cable was new. There was the advent of personal computers but email and cell phones were still a few years off. Kids these days have launched from digital cameras to recording video with your phone. Maybe by the time I’m forty we really have started building Burger King’s on Mars, as I was lead to believe.

P is for...

2006-03-06T19:40:00.000-08:00

Despite everyone bitching and moaning about the oscars, I think everyone's lost sight of the true joy of this weekend - a nice performance from the future Mrs. Jonny.

Let's give her a hand.

Grumble

2006-03-05T23:03:00.000-08:00

Recent pet peeves:

1. The continued misuse of the word “literally.” It’s become so popular to use it wrong (“My head was literally exploding!”) that it makes me question the intelligence of people I consider friends. Here’s a tip: if you remove the word literally from the sentence, it should still be true. It does not mean that your hyperbolic statement is more powerful.

2. People that think that when someone doesn’t like their “art” (their movie or story or what have you) that it’s because they don’t like them, or are jealous. I think anyone that works in a creative medium needs to accept the fact that there will always be people out there that don’t like what they do, and they just need to accept that. The commentary track of the movie RENT (shut up) was so busy with the director sucking his own dick, that he actually said people that didn’t like the movie had their own agenda, but people that did like it need to be given credit for getting it. He should be punched in the face.

Literally.

3. People that are so humongously full of themselves that they think that anyone that doesn’t agree with them have some ulterior motive. The most recent example are all the people crying “homophobia” because Brokeback Mountain lost Best Picture. See, it is possible that people just didn’t like the movie as much as other people did. And it still won three awards. “Good Night and Good Luck” didn’t win any. Does that mean Hollywood is in full support of McCarthyism?

4. Cats. What’s the deal with them thinking they’re so damn cute. Fuck Cats.

Four.

2006-02-01T13:05:00.000-08:00

It’s Andre’s fault.

Four Jobs I've Had
1. Waiter at the Olive Garden. I lied and told them I broke my leg so I could find another job. I also told them I was a twin. I lied a lot. But I think they deserved it for making me sing those lame ass birthday songs.

2. Telemarketer. I was a supervisor of inbound telemarketing customer service. I lived to take what we referred to as “supervisor calls.” Those were the people that were pissy and yelled a lot. It was fun. It was taking away from my college time so I went back to just answering phones. When I quit, on my last day I was so tired of taking calls, that I hung up on seventeen out of twenty people. They happened to be monitoring me at the time and then asked me to leave.

3. Manager of a Music Store. It was a big chain. We watched Empire Records a lot.

4. TV Newsroom. Our lead anchor would show up to work drunk, with a suit shirt, jacket and sweat pants. It was okay, no one ever watched us.

Four Movies I Can Watch Over And Over

1. The Incredibles – Through no fault of my own I saw it in the theater four times. And I have nephews that love this movie. Seen it a hundred times. Yet, if I’m flipping channels and it’s on, I’ll leave it.

2. Boogie Nights – Everything I aspire to in filmmaking, up to and including an Oscar nominated performance from Julianne Moore.

3. The Royal Tenenbaums – As long as I don’t listen to the awful, awful commentary track, I love everything else about this movie.

4. The Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys – Because it’s so much like my childhood it’s scary.

Four Places I've Lived

1. Omaha, NE - Three houses with parents, three apartments, one house with friends

2. New York, NY – Four a few months after college until I ran out of money

3. Culver City, CA – Officially the longest place I’ve lived outside of two of my parents home

4. Redondo Beach, CA – Two different houses.

Four TV Shows I Love

1. Roseanne – It’s amazing to me how well it holds up after so many years. Except for those sucky final two seasons.

2. Buffy the Vampire Slayer – Fine storytelling with each episode of a given season playing to the overall arc. The best use of structure since Dickens and just some great actors doing good work.

3. Futurama – The Simpsons is classic, and certainly more well-regarded, but if Futurama got to have a few more seasons, they would’ve overtaken Bart’s brood. The show had a lot more heart and pointed criticism of our culture today, despite being set a thousand years in the future.

4. Veronica Mars – High school noir. The best storytelling since Buffy and the only series I have to watch as soon as I get home. Every week is a great piece of the overall puzzle, with the strongest mystery I’ve ever seen on TV. It’s also the reason I’m a month behind on Lost.

Four Places I've Vacationed

1. Kansas City, MO – As a kid, we would always go to Worlds of Fun on three day weekends. It’s also the home of Jonny’s infamous pool story.

2. Colorado – With family there, it was a common spot. I love the mountains and if I could do what I do here, there, I would move in a second.

3. New York – The only place I try to go on a yearly basis.

4. New Orleans, LA – It’s interesting to me that I didn’t pay enough attention at the time. I suppose taking pictures isn’t all bad.

Four of My Favorite Dishes

1. Pad See Ew with Beef – What I have to get at Thai Restaurants the first time. For some reason, it’s always spicier in the Midwest than out here.

2. Coconut Shrimp – Just nummy.

3. Lithuanian Torte – The cake my family gets for every special occasion (no, we’re not Lithuanian). It’s great not only for how tasty it is but for the sense memories attached to it as well.

4. Greek platter – with falafel, hummus, spanikopita and the like.

Four sites I Visit Daily

1. The Backstage - Because I made it.

2. The Onion - Because it makes me laugh. My favorite headline went something like – “Cameron Crowe to Cut Out Middle Man and Start Making Mix Tapes”

3. TV Guide - to see what’s going in this bidness of show.

4. Newasarama - Because I’m still just a twelve-year-old comic book geek at heart.

Four Places I Would Rather Be Right Now

1. Greece – Looks like fun

2. Reading a book on the beach – Because I don’t do it often enough

3. New York City – Because it’s the place I feel most at home

4. Working on my movie – because, duh.

Four People I Am Tagging

1. I don’t know four people I can Tag.

2. Howzabout Nictate

Silver Lining

2006-01-20T15:05:00.000-08:00

It amazes me how far I’ve come in just a few years. The 99 version of me would not have been comfortable standing in front of a room of movie execs asking them for 1.5 million dollars. However, that’s pretty much what I did yesterday. It’s not for me or one of my movies, but a project. My nifty new nondisclosure agreement precludes me from detailing any more than that. All I can say is I WAS AWESOME.

It helps that I knew what I was talking about and that I was fairly comfortable being the only person in the room that could make that statement to any strong degree. Confidence isn’t usually something I carry with me in my professional life but these past few weeks have seen an upswing in my dosage.

It helps to be in a position where I was sought after rather than sought out. It helps that I made nearly offensive demands of salary and had them met. And it helps that if I ultimately lose this gig, I really won’t care all that much. All in all, it makes for a nice diversion.

Nothing else too exciting going on in life right now. I need to write out the full resolution to the car getting stolen story, even if it’s not fully resolved yet. There’s still a couple small pieces to be fixed that haven’t been and my insurance company has stopped taking my phone calls. I’m thanking of contacting a lawyer. Thankfully, one lives down the hall from me.

I’ve already started planning several vacations for the remainder of the year. Debating on taking a trip around Europe because, well, it’s there. And I’ve never been. However, I don’t want to spend too much money that it means I have to get a normal job any time soon. Things with the movie I’m working on have progressed nicely (I jumped over a million places on IMDB!) but I still need to get my scripts out there.

I was answering one of those lame internet quizzes the other day and it had the question: Are you happier now than you were last year at this time.

Let me see, last year I was just about to enter the hospital and get pneumonia. I was poor, destitute and getting reacquainted with celibacy. Yeah, I’m happier now.

Top 25 Albums of 2005

2005-12-31T13:52:00.000-08:00

25. Maria Taylor – 11:11

24. Spoon – Gimme Fiction

23. Ben Lee – Awake is the New Sleep

22. Stephen Malkmus – Face the Truth

21. Gorillaz – Demon Days

20. Death Cab for Cutie - Plans

19. Kathleen Edwards – Back to Me

18. Ben Folds – Songs for Silverman

17. Nickel Creek – Why Should the Fire Die

16. Stars – Set Yourself on Fire

15. Sage Francis – A Healthy Distrust

14. Amel Larrieux - Blackbird

13. Liz Phair – Somebody’s Miracle

12. Martha Wainwright – Martha Wainwright

11. Kings of Leon – Aha Shake Heartbreak

Top 25 Singles of 2005

2005-12-31T13:49:00.000-08:00

25. Since U Been Gone – Kelly Clarkson

24. Don’t Phunk with My Heart – Black Eyed Peas

23. Goodbye is All We Have – Allison Krauss and Union Station

22. Bottle Rocket – The Go! Team

21. Ordinary People – John Legend

20. Land-Locked Blues – Bright Eyes

19. I Need Some Fine Wine and You, You Need to Be Nicer – The Cardigans

18. Hung Up - Madonna

17. Let the Cool Goddess Rest – Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

16. Bucky Done Gone – M.I.A.

15. Hounds of Love – The Futureheads

14. When the President Talks to God – Bright Eyes

13. My Doorbell – The White Stripes

12. No Sleep Tonight – The Faders

11. Girl - Beck

Top 10 Film Performances of 2005

2005-12-31T13:43:00.000-08:00

Top 10 Films of the Year

2005-12-31T13:34:00.000-08:00

Top 10 TV performances of the year

2005-12-31T11:30:00.000-08:00

You know those actors, they just never get enough credit.

Both actors bring a natural goofiness and affability to their roles. Both are involved in two of television's sweetest romances (or non-romance in Krasinski's case). Both are in shows where the majority of the credit goes to other players, yet both deserve more attention.

Carrying one big stretch of a premise and some of the more challenging child actors this side of Passions, Parker can win over the harshest critic with one look - her doe eyes, mouth slightly agape and every word just dripping with sarcasm. Perfect choice for a less than perfect character.

Saddled with, perhaps, the worst character in primetime - certainly the worst mother - Huffman never fails to make the most out of the least. She brings a nice grace to a character that a lesser actress would've made a shrill cartoon by now (see, well, every other actress on that show).

She pretty much carries the tired SNL most weeks, with strong support from the female cast. Whether she's doing her bouncy, snarky self on weekend update or aping anyone from Sharon Stone to Sharon Osbourne, she is a great performer to watch.

It's a delicate balance when you have a character that's a little bit "simple." Jaime Pressly has mastered that balance with Joy, a fake nail wearing, paper plate at her wedding having mess of a woman. She keeps her natural beauty hidden beneath gobs of makeup and lays her accent on so thick it's like watching Tennessee Williams, but still there's something to be said when a a character can remain likable when she's firing a shotgun at the hero of the story.

Everyone on "Philly" is a natural performer, but there's just something so doofily endearing about Charlie. Here's a guy who fakes cancer (!) just to get a date with a waitress. Day's unflinching portrayal of this hapless loser is one of the bright spots in this great series.

The thing that Bell does so well is that she gets to have her wise beyond her years high school character Veronica be a real teenager every now and then, tantrums, petty jealousies and all. She also was the first rape victim on TV to never once let herself appear victimized. Full of spunk and sarcasm in one scene and shooting vicious barbs or having her big eyes well with tears in the next, Bell has shown that she can handle anything that's thrown at her.

Everyone thinks of the title characters as the mother-daughter team of Lorelei and Rory - but the true heart of the show is that other mother-daughter dynamic or Lorelei and Emily. It's so easy to believe that these polar opposites share DNA and it's a testament to the creators that they never let either character stray too far from their core. They love each other, they hate each other, and whatever happens it's magic on screen.

A true ensemble is one that can push any character to the forefront and still maintain the integrity of the show. No matter who got the backstory treatment each week or who was pushed forward, every character on Lost delivered - even Michelle Rodriguez as the loathed Ana Lucia. The series has become completely engaging because of its characters and its slow peel back the onion way of informing us about them. In its second season the show got rid of its two weakest characters/actors while still making them more interesting. New additions Rodriguez, Cynthia Watros and Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje have only added to the already rich cast.

As it spirals head first towards cancellation, nothing seems to be able to hold this cast back. There's over the top and then there's this family. Each and every member of the Bluth clan takes quirk to a new level, so much so that it's hard to single out any one of the cast because they are all so good. Hopefully, there's a chance for more, whether the show is renewed on FOX or picked up somewhere else.

Top 10 TV Programs of the Year

2005-12-31T10:01:00.000-08:00

The highlight of the year was the 100th episode which showcased the dramatic schism between Lorelei (the always amazing Lauren Graham) and her mother (equally strong Kelly Bishop) and began the downward spiral of prodigal daughter Rory (Alexis Bledel). Keeping the main girls apart for nearly the first half of the latest season was a risky move but one that ultimately succeeded.

The HBO series finally got a handle on its storytelling in season 2 and saw more depth in its main characters – from superagent Ari’s meltdown (played by the endearingly smarmy Jeremy Piven) to E’s (Kevin Connolly) move from over his head manager to a true Hollywood player.

Equally embracing and making fun of its white trash characters, Earl has developed a nice balance between the absurd and genuine heartfelt comedy. A hilarious show with an endearing lead performance by Jason Lee and wonderful support from Ethan Suplee and Jaime Pressly.

It took a while to step outside of the shadow of its British counterpart, but the US version has found its own rhythm and mines the best laughs from awkward humor. The sweet non-romance between Jim (John Krasinski) and Pam (Jenna Fischer) is one of the shows strongest assets.

There’s never been another show that each week can either so successfully skew pop culture icons (Tom Cruise), provide hilarious insight into social issues (the Terry Schiavo case), or simply tell a whacked out story that no other show on TV could handle (Willzyx! Marjorine!). That it still manages to be one of the funniest things on television after nearly a decade is a tribute to its staying power.

Given the dramatic themes the show explores, it’s impressive it never manages to fall into treacle or maudlin territory. From the confrontation between Ephram and his father Andy (the most complex father-son duo on TV, strongly played by Gregory Smith and Treat Williams), to the cute romance between bad boy Bright (Chris Pratt) and innocent Hannah (Sarah Drew), and everyone dealing with matriarch Rose (Merilynn Gann) and her cancer – it’s great to be just along for the ride.

This single camera comedy came on the scene with little fanfare but still provided some of the biggest laughs of the year. Everything about this show feels like it should be wrong, but it manages to find laughs in the strangest places – Nazi humor, molestation jokes, underage drinking, statutory rape, abortion. It’s fearlessness is one of its strongest assets along with a cast that exudes natural charm.

It may be more complex than anything else on TV (including the dense shows that rank higher), but is a rewarding experience for anyone that can focus on the screen long enough to get even half the jokes that are crammed into every episode. A cast on TV that any show should kill for and strong guest turns from a range of actors like Liza Minnelli, Ed Begley Jr., Martin Short, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Mo Collins, Ben Stiller, Ione Skye, Zach Braff, and Charlize Theron.

It’s surprising to me that a show this complex, this introspective has found a large audience. It bodes well for the future of network TV that it can tell a rich story every bit as good as HBO. A sprawling cast (when’s the last time Claire even got a line?), an intriguing mythology, and an overall mystery that is as compelling as it is maddening make this show nearly the best thing on TV.

Hidden on UPN despite critical raves, Mars is modern day noir set in an upscale southern Californian town. Mysteries abound, and this summer’s one-two punch of the closing chapters of the first season jerked through enough twists and turns to give the viewer whiplash. The second season set up even more mysteries than the first one and each week has served them as well as whatever weekly mess the titular character (played with plucky aplomb by Kristin Bell) has gotten herself into.

Break

2005-12-31T09:56:00.000-08:00

Christmas break is pretty great considering i don't really have anything to take a break from. I'm going through my annual venture-back-to-the-midwest-and-get-skull-splitting-allergies fun. Well, it's new years so what else is there to do but TOP TEN LISTS.

I know, I know, you can hardly contain your excitement. Now with graphics! I was planning on doing books but since most books i read came out at least a year or two before i thought that would be a little lame. well, no less lame than making a top 10 list in the first place. anyway, here goes. comments welcome.

sam and janet evenign

2005-12-09T23:41:00.000-08:00

It’s the simple things in life. Really.

I’ve had a bad day. A bad week really. Nothing major. Nothing like my car getting stolen. Just little things. I’ve realized my job in life is nothing more than apologizing for the director of the movie. Sure, it’s probably more than that. But today, it certainly didn’t seem like that. I had to interview the intern he was supposed to interview. I had to talk to the composer he was supposed to meet with and I had to get the DVD covers from the vendor he promise to pay, but still hadn’t.

It’s been getting to me. I mean, on the one hand it’s been great experience and I will be forever grateful for what Ive learned/gained. But on the other, he’s been driving me absolutely batshit.

I wasn’t planning on having a good evening. I didn’t even shower today. I woke up late. Didn’t want to leave the warmth of my bed. But I did. I went in to work and forced myself to be happy today. Well, not happy. I just wanted to cut down on my whining. I left the office at 5 with some made up excuse just so I could maintain my sanity. When the director’s girlfriend (my pal) gave me a call to go to the bar, I jumped at the chance. I’ve been wanting to get drunk for a while now.

We headed out to a neighborhood bar – the Joker Daily – which I have since learned is the Joxer Daly, which means I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to pronounce it. Joxer – ie Jokes ERRR – seems so fucking wrong. Still, I went. It’s a nice pub. I had a couple beers until she insisted we should be drnking vodka and then I switched to vodka. I had about sev en vodka sours before the band started to play. Now, I have nothing against bar bands. But sometimes, when they are too loud, I just can’t deal. They played a couple songs before I had to make my leave. Sorry, I said. I need to maintain my sanity.

I’m all about that these days.

MY roommate was with me and we hopped into my car. I drove drunk (I’m a dick, yes) the six blocks through my neighborhood streets to get home. We walked by the coffee shop across the street from our apartment where he convinced me to pop in. He’s a mainstay, I jhavent’ been since they went under new ownership. Still, he convinced me that I should check it out.

I walked through the place to the back room where some chick is playing guitar. Nothing amazing, unless you count the fact that it was so what I needed at that exact moment. Here was this starving artist on stage playing her heart out and I found hermore inspirational than anything else that’s happned to me in the past two months.

I’m sure I’ll go into more detail when I regain sobriety, but for now, I just want to ride the wave of creativity that crested before me.

I also want to think Microsoft Word autocorrect for making this entry possible.

golly

2005-12-07T23:26:00.000-08:00

It’s getting downright humorous how often I run into the skeevy little thief that stole my car in the courtyard of my apartment. It’s at completely random intervals. I’m walking up the stairs at the exact moment he walks out of his door. I walk out the front door just as he’s running up the steps. Sometimes, I think he might be stalking me, but the long way around.

Yesterday, I called in to work because I didn’t feel like getting out of bed. I talked on the phone for a few minutes with my boss at 9am (after about eight hours of sleep) and I rolled over and slept more until noon. I turned on the TV to catch up on “Gilmore Girls” only to fall back asleep until 2. Somebody’s lazy. Or on the downward slope of a manic-depressive bell curve. I can’t decide which, though I really I could afford a doctor to give me a decent diagnosis.

All in due time. I renegotiated my contract to return (yet again) to my old job that I’ve left a whopping three times now. The contract is pretty sick although it sucks I’ll have to endure the next month of extreme poorness in order to get there. How poor, you ask? My credit card company has told me they are going to pursue litigation! You know what that means – wacky courtroom shenanigans. On the plus side, I won’t have to worry about owning a home for at least another decade.

Debt schmedt.

And that’s my life. Endless debates on jumping out various windows. The thing that always keeps me grounded – I know it will hurt a lot. I’m not a fan of pain although I do keep imagining smashing my wrist with a hammer. I have no idea where those thoughts are coming from, but it’s pretty disturbing.

Butters has got to be one of the greatest animated characters in animated TV history. Oh, hamburgers.

Bye Bye Belinda

2005-11-14T21:50:00.000-08:00

So I got up this morning as I do most mornings and got ready for work. I haven’t been exactly motivated the past few days because there hasn’t been a whole lot to do. It was also Monday. I dragged ass for about an hour until I managed to put on some relatively clean clothes and I headed out to my car.

I walked down the stairs, opened the gate to my carport and walked to my stall. It only took me a few moments to see the problem: no car.

You know, when I wished there was a way to get me out of working today this isn’t quite what I had in mind. Maybe this is another way that god is fucking with me for not believing in him. Jerkass.

I had to stand there and wonder if I actually parked on the street the night before – which I never do. Still, I walked out to the street and looked up and down on the off chance I had dissociative personality split and my alternate jonny went out for a joyride last night.

I called the police, my insurance company, and my apartment manager. As my apartment manager parks next to me, she noted that my car was not there last night when she got home at 11:30pm. Funny side note: I was sitting in my room last night when I heard a car squeaking. “That sounds like my car,” I thought, with little drive to actually get up and look out to see what was probably my car getting lifted.

Bygones.

The cops came and filled out a report. They didn’t bother to look at the “crime scene” and I got the distinct feeling they would find my car right around the time they finished solving all the murders in Los Angeles. I’ll hold my breath.

And that was my day – dealing with insurance companies and rental car companies. Okay, there was only one of each. It was still trying. My car got stolen. I’m sad. I feel violated. And my blue jacket was in the back. I guess the era of the jeep Cherokee is now over. I liked that car but I guess it was her time. Who knows what the future holds.
Let me see if I have my data correct: totaled five cars, leased two vehicles that got turned in okay, one car stolen. Number nine could be the car that lasts more than three years. Fingers crossed.

Downfall

2005-11-13T17:37:00.000-08:00

The other day we got a call from a potential investor. He had seen the promo reel and read the script, but hadn't seen/read anything beyond that. In an effort to give us finishing funds for the movie (which would allow us to do a color correct and sound mix - everything else is pretty solid), this investor had a proposal.

He would give us the money we need plus an additional 50 thousand dollars for reshoots. He would supply us with an "A-List" actor and we needed to write additional scenes in the movie for said "A-List" actor. I'm sure by "A-List" he means someone like James Woods who is technically a great actor (though not A-List) but will take any role you hand to him from bad action movies to guest spots on Family Guy. And since he takes every single role you can hardly expect every movie he's in to be worthy.

Basically, this guy wanted said "A-Lister" to be added to the movie, you know, somehow squeezed in, and that would give him the opportunity to put said "A-Lister" on the DVD case which would allow him to sell the movie overseas.

If you've ever wanted to figure out what was wrong with hollywood, there's a pretty good place to start.

Producer Jonny

2005-11-07T00:09:00.000-08:00

On Thursday, the writer-director of the movie I’m working on (sorry, I just can’t bring myself to call him my “boss”), sat me down and gave me a proposal. Things are moving on the movie and my being gone for six weeks was not something with which he wanted to deal. So, instead of taking a six week sabbatical, I’ll be having more sporadic holiday plans. In exchange for my coming back from thanksgiving and spending a few more weeks on the movie before going back home for Christmas, I will be given a flight (to make me in the right places at the right times), a nice cash stipend, the offer of putting my scripts into production and a shiny new co-producer credit.

Yup, I can technically walk into a bar and tell some sweet young girl that I’m a movie producer and not be a liar. Haven’t tried it yet, though. I did, however, jump at the offer. It wasn’t so much the producer credit or the free flight; it was that clever little dangling carrot of getting some momentum on my scripts. I guess for the right price anyone’s a whore, and a sweet little stroking of my ego and my legs just went a-spreadin’. Golly, I hope he was on the level.

My first act as co-producer was to attend a meeting with the w-d hyphenate to a potential investor. Now, I’m kind of good at reading people, it’s why I like so few of them, and I’m horribly bad at being comfortable in situations where I’m with sleazeballs and have to pretend not to be nauseous, so the meeting was fairly difficult. It didn’t start off well when we were forty-five minutes late because their office is around a few strange corners, off a side street and through a street that leads somewhere near the magical entrance to the kingdom of narnia.

After arriving, we sat down with this man that I can only describe as Harvey Weinstein-lite. Not quite as fat, smarmy or Jewish, but still enough of all three to be at least similar to the notorious producer. I’m generally wary of anyone that calls themself a producer because, as history has shown (remember me?), any idiot can get a producer credit. This man offered to give the film a quarter of a million dollars within about ten minutes of our being there. There was a lot of Hollywood double-talk but since our ultimate goal is to get funds to finish the movie, it was a bit seductive to have our first meeting result in 50K more than what we were looking for. Of course, it didn’t take an accountant to figure out that taking the man’s 250K now would possibly, and quite probably, be the last dime that anyone besides that producer would see on the film.

Still, it was a fun time. It was nice to see a room so full of fancy projection screen electronics that didn’t work (we watched our promo reel on the laptop we brought along). It was also interesting to see his big closet full of scripts of all the movies he has in production (I’ve got just as many scripts in my closet at home). It was a bit intriguing to see that the pinnacle of the projects he has been involved with before are “Pay it Forward” and “Radio” – two of the biggest piece of shit movies in the past decade.

Whether or not we take the money isn’t up to me. I’ve actually been pushing for it because 1) it solves our cash problems right now (which means that jonny gets paid something nice) and 2) it helps us put this project to bed and gives us the opportunity to move forward. The w-d just joined the DGA so he could get another gig fairly soon. The more lucrative he is, the more beneficial it is to me. Plus, once we wrap this film, I can try and work a deal with one of my scripts. Since I have a friend that’s on a hit show that might do one of my movies on hiatus, I could start playing this little game fairly quickly. I just don’t know that I’m ready for that yet. I mean, I’m certainly ready, but there’s still a whole sick, disgusting part of the process that I’m growing increasingly tired of.

It will be so nice to just move to a different city to write and send stuff along from outside the whole horrendous “process” of this environment. It was energizing though, to have the w-d talk me into staying and offering me the co-producer credit. It was the first time I’ve been pursued career-wise in a long time. And it felt nice. I just wish I had a less smarmy encounter to follow it up.

Still, can’t complain. It only took me six years to get to this point. Who knows what could happen next.

Catch Up

2005-11-03T09:03:00.000-08:00

I’ll be really happy when people stop breaking into my car. I guess, technically, you can’t call it breaking in when one of my doors doesn’t lock. Still, I wish it was like with vampires where people just can’t come in unless invited. But no, there was the first violation a few weeks ago, and now it’s happened so often that it’s ceased to be both interesting and funny. My car is getting gang raped and there doesn’t appear to be anything I can do about it.

I think one of the day laborers that spends all day loitering in front of my office building has figured out that whole door not locking thing because there’s never any sign of broken entry. And I’m not just thinking that someone has been breaking into my car on a bi-daily basis because of my slight tendency toward massive paranoia. There are signs. The change that goes missing. Someone finally took off with my CD player – haha – jokes on you dickweeds it’s broken! – and today I had the most annoying of all thefts: someone took the key to my anti-theft device.

Basically, it’s this little box that if there’s not a key turned outside of it, the car doesn’t start. I figured this out when my car didn’t start this morning. Luckily, I had a spare. See, I had gotten lazy (no, seriously) by simply leaving the key in the device for the past four years that I’ve had the car. Didn’t seem like a bad idea at the time. Now, of course, I’m having second thoughts. Now, I have to take a separate key ring with the key for the device and use it every time and remember to take it with me when I leave as well. This has added on tens of tens of seconds to my drive time each day. It’s like living in biblical times.

And that’s pretty much what my life has been the past few weeks. Seeing a movie, car gets broken into, working on a movie, car gets broken into. It’s a vicious cycle. I’m wrapping things up with the film for now. In a few weeks I’m taking an extended sabbatical home for six weeks. Apparently the six weeks I spent there earlier this year didn’t take. I do kind of wish someone would remind me that it snows back home because I basically just put myself on house arrest for over a month. Granted, that will help with the whole not-having-money thing that I go through about half of the year. Yes, I’m thirty (ish) and I plan trips halfway across the country to get free meals. What’s your point?

Help Desk

2005-10-16T17:52:00.000-07:00

It’s quite surprising to me how far technology has come in a relatively short period of time. Granted, when I was kid I figured we’d be playing kickball on the moon by the time I hit 30. But still, it’s pretty amazing. I’ve got a tiny 4inch piece of metal and plastic that plays about 20 thousand songs in my car or just with headphones. It’s also alleviated about 10 cubic feet of space in my living room.

We have electric cars and writing checks has become all but obsolete. Even this whole internet thing is pretty daunting if you sat around and just thought about it from the perspective of your 1980s self.

I think this reliance on technology is why it’s become so frustrating when it fails. I spent about an hour today cursing at my computer and trying to find a simple support email or phone number for this internet thing I’m doing. I’m sure it’s a relatively simple thing, it’s just that I can’t get something to read something else and thusly the movie that I’ve been working on doesn’t have a place where people can leave feedback.

This wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t spend so much time convincing the director what a good idea it would be. I just don’t understand why things can’t work out the way I want them to. Is that too much to ask?

So, that’s what I’ve been dealing with. Working on the movie has been a great experience in that’s it’s great experience. I keep falling into things simply because I’m around and I’ve gone from being a glorified to intern to pretty much running the show. The main producer had to move on to another project so I’ve had the opportunity to do everything from updating the website, paying bills and hiring editors to working with the music supervisors to put together a pretty decent soundtrack.

The most important aspect of this for me is to be able to get one of my scripts in front of people who actually have the ability to, what’s it called, oh yeah – make the damn movie. I’ve got two separate people resurrecting the short movie I shot over a year ago, one of whom wants me to reshoot two scenes (which I’m not opposed to). It’s just refreshing for me to be in an environment of creative types who actually want to make movies. And they’re talented to boot.

This means that while I have to put up with a minor frustration with all this technology, I can’t really complain too much when everything else seems to be going so smoothly. Unfortunately, history has shown that’s generally when I lose a tooth or a car or at best, a little respect.

I guess we’ll see what happens next.

Bye Bye Blue Pin Stripe

2005-09-27T22:57:00.000-07:00

It’s come to my attention that I don’t really get a song stuck in my head. I generally get thirteen or fourteen songs stuck in my head about one or two lines each. Yesterday, I was hearing most of Liz Phair’s new album, a Split Enz remake by Belinda Carlisle, some Fall Out Boy, a couple Rilo Kiley, Sufjan Stevens, Soup Dragons, and (seriously) the Streets and Pavement.

It had gotten bad enough that on the way out to my car at 2am I had to pull my ipod out of my bag and give myself a quick minute and half of Ms. Phair to cover my walk to the car. And that’s when I noticed it.

Sure, it was bound to happen sooner or later. You tempt fate and sometimes fate takes the bait. Is that a mixed metaphor or just two dumb thoughts put together? Oh yeah, the story. So, I walk out of the office to my car and I notice the driver’s side door is ajar. Now, my first thought, naturally, was “Boy, am I an idiot for not closing my door,” because that’s pretty much something dumb that I would do. As I opened the door though I noticed that the middle console door was standing upright. That’s not something I usually do.

Yup, someone done broke into my car.

Now, the thing of it is, “broke into” is fairly misleading. See, I got the window fixed on my car a couple years back and for some reason the passenger door no longer locked after that. Given that, I’ve gotten fairly used to not locking the doors at all. At first it was laziness. Then, it became a test, you know, sort of. I just was using it to restore my faith in human nature and for two years it worked. Actually, it still works, because for some reason, it doesn’t even bother me that someone broke into my car.

What bothers me is trying to figure out why the only thing that was taken was my suit jacket. It had been sitting in my passenger seat since the Emmy’s. Yes, I’m that lazy. At first, I figured that maybe it was some homeless guy that broke into the car and that he just wanted the jacket to keep him warm in the freezing fifty degree California evenings. However, in the back seat I had a blanket. Wouldn’t he have rather taken that?

I also had three pair of shoes – my dress shoes, my running shoes and a pair of sandals. All were left. There was $3.84 in change in my cupholder that wasn’t touched. And all of my CDs were rifled through but near as I can tell nothing was missing. I guess homeless guys don’t dig Death Cab.

As I drove home I wondered what journey my jacket would take now. I mean he (jackets are he’s right) he’s seen many a funeral, wedding and job interview. He's warmed many a cold damsel in a strapless dress. He had a good run and if his time now is spent hanging out by the ocean getting sand in his pockets or underneath some park bench on Third Street, I think it will be a good thing for his twilight years. Me? I’m just bummed now that I have to buy a new fucking suit.

Wrap Party

2005-09-25T11:21:00.000-07:00

So, I’ve got another one of those stories where I need to reference semi-famous people. If you don’t have the stomach for it, get out now. Okay, we have to go back for this one, but it’s one of those interconnected circular stories where it all gets tied up in the end. And we have an obligatory appearance by a three-time Emmy winner (it was mandated by the producer, you know).

A few years back I went to see a play, like I do. It was a decent little play in a small theater that got a lot of press for David Schwimmer because he was in it and he was very un-Rosslike. However, another guy that was in it that I found equally impressive was former Single Guy Jonathan Silverman. I went home a few weeks after seeing it and was talking about it with my friend Theresa.

Theresa is one of my favorite people because she was 1) my boss at my internship at the TV station and 2) she was the first non-midwesterner that I hung out with in the Midwest and 3) she introduced me to Tofu.

I was telling Theresa about this play and I said it featured Jonathan Silverman who you might remember from that show the Single Guy. And she got really excited – “Jonathan Silverman? I know Jonathan Silverman. I’ve stayed at Jonathan Silverman’s house. He’s friends with my friends Dana” (who you might remember from his stint on Twin Peaks). I knew that if I ever had the chance to talk to Jonathan Silverman, I would have this small world story to bring up because who doesn’t like to hear a story about themselves?

While I was helping my friend cast the movie I noticed Jonathan’s name on the shortlist for one of the characters. I was out to dinner with the writer-director and a few other people when we were going over casting and I told him that Jonathan Silverman would be great, perfect for the character and all that stuff.

“Jonathan Silverman? Who’s that?” the writer-director responded. He’s good with faces but not so much with names. I was dropping the Single Guy and Weekend at Bernies. I even went so far as Gimme a Break. Nothing. In a fit of serendipity, the episode of Friends that Jonathan guest on happened to be airing over the bar.

“There, that guy,” I said. “That’s Jonathan Silverman.”

And then the pieces started to fall into place. Jonathan got cast. I began work on the movie (which at first consisted of me hanging out on the set, watching monitors and being mistaken for being someone important). I thought about walking up to Jonathan a couple times but it never seemed right. I’d hate to be responsible for taking him out of the moment (which I’m saying without irony). So, I never got the chance to actually talk to him until last night at the wrap party.

I bumped into him, talked to him for a few moments and then I launched into my “hey, I’ve got to tell you this small world story, it’s great and it involves you.” I recounted the story up to where I told Theresa about it and how she told me he was the nicest guy in Hollywood. Theresa? I could see his eyes saying and I continued with the connection how she was friends with his friend Dana. Jonathan turned around said – “This Dana?” And there was Dana, this guy I’d heard stories about for nearly a decade. And we all drank beer and laughed.

Jonathan introduced me to his fiancé who, for those who don’t know, is three-time daytime Emmy award winner Jennifer Finnigan who is starring in the new show “Close to Home” (Tuesdays at 10pm on CBS). Finnigan is certainly up there for nicest person in Hollywood too. She was gracious, sweet and seemed to completely adore Jonathan and not want to take any attention away from him, as it was his party. I even managed to tell her that Close to Home is a better fit for her than Committed, her short-lived (and quite bad) sitcom on NBC. Let me tell you, she knew it was a suckfest.

Anyway, Finnigan saw a commercial for Boston Legal and rolled her eyes because 1) it features Heather Locklear in the premiere and 2) it’s on opposite her show. I assured her the show was pretty terrible and that while she would probably get beat by SVU (no contest, really), I didn’t see BL being any competition. I hope her show does well because it’s always nice to see decent people finding success rather than some other dickhead.

Martha Stewart is the Devil

2005-09-24T15:14:00.000-07:00

I’ve had a one-sided hate-filled relationship with Martha Stewart for quite a few years now. It’s one of those things where someone can say that kitchens should be periwinkle blue and suddenly legions of overweight, middle-aged women are rushing to buy paint (manufactured by Ms. Stewart no less). It’s one of those blonde leading the blind things. It doesn’t help that Martha is notorious wildebitch to her staff and yet acts like she’s better than Jesus on camera.

So, I’ve had this feeling that Martha Stewart has been ruining America for quite a few years now but with the dawn of her primetime show, it just became a little worse. Now, knowing I hate Martha like I do, I avoided the show like it was a Michael Bay movie, but I couldn’t help but hear what her new catchphrase was – “You just don’t fit in.”

And this is precisely why I think Martha should spend a few more decades at Camp Cupcake. First off, isn’t that phrase just a little too “Mean Girls?” I mean, here Martha is a grown woman (old and crusty, but grown nonetheless) and yet she’s further perpetuating the notion that everyone’s ultimate goal should be conformity. Now, I know the show is all about the competition and all that and that people are banished because of a failure of some sort, but it’s just the phrase that irks me to no end. I love that it’s intended as a dis, and I’m sure it’s felt it by a lot of people, but that all that she’s saying is “you’re just not one of us, dear.” And is there any greater egotistical, haughty, old money, country club sipping tea and looking down at the peasants type of attitude than that? Good thing she didn’t bother to actually let any black people actually enter her competition because when they were eventually told they just don’t fit in, and you know they would be, it may appear that Martha is a bit too old-fashioned southern and white (if you know what I mean – oh what the hell – she’s a giant racist!).

(Allegedly.)

It’s just unfortunate that this country is trying its damnedest to destroy any sort of diversity. Everything is becoming black or white. Democrat or Republican. Beatles or Stones. And if you don’t agree with someone, well, I’m sorry, you just don’t fit in.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

In the past week, I:

- had a conversation with Laurence Fishburne
- played thumbwar with Giovanni Ribisi’s daughter
- held Blythe Danner’s Emmy while she, incidentally, held me
- told Hank Azaria that I loved him in Spamalot even though I didn’t see him in it
- began work on my first feature film trailer
- sorted dailies that included and entire cast of IMDB accredited actors
- worked on a real-life movie set
- watched with one of my friends as the show he’s the lead on debuted
- met one of the actresses I’ve been fascinated with for years and didn’t come off like a total skeeve
- bought Koo Koo Roo for dinner entirely in change (hey, it’s not all glamour)

I feel like I suddenly stepped into someone else’s life and it’s such a weird place to be because I’ve found that as amazing as things have been there will always be those people that begrudge anyone else some happiness. And to them I say “I’m excited, so eat a dick.”

(Apologies for the name dropping but if you can tell me another way to tell this story without it, I’d appreciate it.)

Tess Saw My Pee Pee

2005-09-17T23:38:00.000-07:00

I haven’t done laundry in awhile. I’ve started hitting the reserves, which means holey socks and boxers where the flaps aren’t quite so…modest. This may seem a pretty inane confession, but trust me, it’s relevant information.

I’ve been busy the past few weeks working on a movie set. It sounds a lot more dramatic than it is. Basically, I have a friend that is directing a feature he co-wrote. Sure, it stars two Oscar Nominees, a regular from a Joss Whedon show and a Must-See TV expatriate, but none of the really great ones. It’s fun though. I’ve been observing mostly. Next week, I’ll start my actual position, which is in post production. But these past couple weeks it’s just been watching the setups, eavesdropping on conversations of semi-famous people and trying to stay out of the way.

The trying to stay out of the way is really important if you’ve ever met me. I’m a klutz and I have a nasty habit of breaking things (like my bones) in odd ways. The last thing I need is to draw attention to myself by tripping over a t-stand or breaking the craft services table. I have daydreams about bringing the entire set collapsing down around me like Bart Simpson when he became the “I Didn’t Do It” Boy.

Thankfully, I’ve survived two weeks with nary an incident. It’s been all sidestepping sound boxes, watching out for poison oak, listening to Alex Rocco make jokes and waving away a few swarms of bees (if I hadn’t mentioned it, we’re shooting on location in one of the most beautiful parts of LA [which is, I’m aware, like talking about one of the more pleasant smelling areas of the county dump, but I swear, it’s pretty damn beautiful]).

Today, however, went a little differently.

I was asked to be an extra, which generally sounds like fun were it not for the mind-numbingly dull periods where you just have to sit there. I was sitting in a car. My role was sitting-in-a-car guy. I worked hard on my blocking – which was sitting in a car. And I worked hard on my motivation – being annoyed I was sitting in a car. Everything was there for the perfect set up. I shared the vehicle with a “professional” extra (i.e. he was getting paid for it) who was so method he was intent on tuning the car stereo even when he wasn’t in the shot. This is why I will never make it as an actor. I just can’t pull off – tuning a car stereo on a car that isn’t running effectively.

The guy seemed nice, thought he was a fortysomething dude that really, really wanted me to tell him where the crew was going to party that evening (um, dude, they wouldn’t tell me). I got a lot of his backstory. His recurring role on “24.” His familiarity with stunt work and how he does this to make some extra money so he could pay off that bad child support judgment. Great, so I’m sharing a car with a deadbeat dad that just wants to party. And Scene.

The shooting went without incident. Thankful that it was over, I leapt out of the passenger seat. So, before I forget, I was wearing these shorts that, perhaps because I’ve been working out a lot no longer fit me properly. They’re a little loose, like gangsta-rapper loose. And I hardly noticed that when I got out of the car one of the belt loops got caught on the handle. I walked, the shorts dropped, which wouldn’t have been so bad as I was kind of on the other side of where the people were but 1) it tripped me and 2) Tess Harper just happened to round the corner. So here I am, stumbling down where my pants fall to my ankles and this bona fide actress comes strolling by as I’m trying to pull my pants up and my penis is flapping in the wind (reserve underpants, remember?).

Good times.

I quickly yanked my pants up as Tess gave me a quirky look as if I was perhaps “enjoying myself” in the car during the scene. Because that’s what I do.

I don’t think anyone else saw me, which is good, because it was Tess’ last day of shooting and I’m fairly certain I won’t have to look her in the eye any time soon, and I doubt she’d be able to pick me out of a lineup after next week.

Now, if I could just figure out a way to show my ass to Gina Torres then I’ll be in business.

Money Money

2005-09-07T11:55:00.000-07:00

I’m bad with money. I mean, really bad. If I have thirty dollars in my account and need food, but the LOST dvd just came out, I would (probably) buy the LOST dvd and write a bad check to the grocery store hoping that my unemployment check would arrive before the check hits.

You know, hypothetically.

I think it’s just that I don’t care that much. It’s all meaningless anyway. Unless I want to buy a house, which won’t happen until about seven years after I start making money. Or if I’m still living in LA, probably never. I think part of the problem is that in my adult life, I’ve only had a string of about nine months where I actually made more than would cover my bills. Granted, scenarios like the one above are part of the problem. But when your rent, car payment, insurance and credit card bills is greater than (>) your take home pay, what’s the point?

I guess the point is to be wise about your money, but who has time for that? Baby wants candy, you know.

Now, I’m not just completely oblivious when it comes to my funds. In fact, I have an annoying habit of checking my bank account several times a day, just to see if anything changed. Part of it is curiosity. Part of it is my paranoid fear of identity theft (as if the unemployed account of credit delinquent is oh so enticing to those stealing identities). It hasn’t happened yet, but I still think that someday someone is going to be going around with my name, getting turned down for Blockbuster cards all over town.

So, I’ve been waiting for a check to clear. Big check – the rent. My feeling is that once that clears, every other cent is fair game. Maybe I’ll make a car payment. Maybe not. But after rent I like to know what my options are. I logged on to my online banking site last night. Checked out the funds. Not bad when you look at it, but knowing a twelve hundred dollar check is about to pass through, not all that exciting. I did the mental math as to what I would have leftover and then returned to cruising the web.

This morning, I check again. Now, here’s the strange part. Nothing passed through my account between last night and this morning. No strange credit card authorizations. No odd checks. The top item on my account was still the same. But the overall balance was off.

By one hundred and twenty dollars.

Now, I’m no mathematician. Really, I’m not. But I can tell the difference between nineteen hundred and ninety one dollars and eighteen hundred and seventy two dollars. $1991 is greater than (>) $1872. $1872 is less than (<) $1991. So, what the hell?

And this is where being a minor paranoid schizophrenic is problematic. Did I actually see $1991? Or was it two am and my eyes were having trouble making out the numbers correctly? Even squinting, I can’t make 1991 look like 1872 though. Did the bastards at my bank (and I’ve had enough experience with them to know they are bastards) sneak a hundred and twenty dollars out of my account because it’s painfully obvious I don’t pay much attention to it? And how do I even broach this subject with them? Can I call them and tell them this? They’re just going to look at my account, see no activity and tell me I’m crazy, which will only make me suspect them even more.

I know it’s not a lot of money, but in my brain one hundred and twenty dollars comes out to one of the following items:

*two months of electric bills
*charitable contribution to the hurricane relief fund of my choice
*six movie DVDs, new release, at Best Buy (probably “The People vs. Larry Flynt,” “Dr. Strangelove,” “The Life Aquatic,” “Crash,” “The Upside of Anger” and “Sin City” since those are on my list to get
*three full season TV on DVD sets from Best Buy (perhaps “Lost,” “Desperate Housewives” and season five of “Cheers”) or one full season TV on DVD set from an HBO series (“Deadwood” of course)
*twelve full length CDs downloaded off of itunes
*twelve meals at Baja Fresh which almost always will include and bean and cheese burrito, black bean, add steak. Ghandi wouldn’t have fasted if he knew what these tasted like.
*a sweatshirt, two button down shirts, two polos, three pair of boxers and a pair of jeans off the bargain racks at the GAP.
*a six week supply of groceries from Ralph’s (six weeks does not include toiletry items. All fresh foods will go bad in about a week).
*Four concert tickets to the Bangles show at the House of Blues in October (I only need one, which means the rest are on ebay!)
*Gas for two weeks

Now, why, why I ask, would US Bank want to deprive me of any one of the items above? Is it because they are secretly out to ruin my fun. Or are they against hurricane relief? I think that’s it. I think that’s the only thing we can conclude. It’s all so clear now. It’s not about me, it’s about “the man.” I guess what Kanye West said is true –“[US Bank] does not like black people.”

I’m paraphrasing a little.

Milky Milky

2005-09-01T11:08:00.000-07:00

I figured I needed to do something special to kick off my new space. You see, I’ve begun the arduous process of applying to grad schools and in order to get my mind back in educational mode, I figured I’d do a little critical analysis.

Now, there were a lot of different things I thought about addressing – the underlying religious philosophy in the tv series “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” for one. I figured, though, that since I’ve dropped “tv” from my moniker, I might try something a little different. Perhaps some written works of fiction, but I’m a little behind in my reading. Then it hit me. I was exposed to something so intricately plotted, so delicately written – thick with metaphor and dense with imagery – that I felt it was my duty to dissect it for the masses.

That work is, naturally, the latest single from the Black Eyed Peas: “My Humps.” What follows is a breakdown of the lyrics based on months and months of study.

My Humps

What you gon’ do with all that junk? All that junk inside your trunk?

We essentially have two narrators in this song, a man and a woman. It’s one of those classic duets, in the vein of “Islands in the Stream” that offers dual perspective into the inception of a new relationship. We begin as the man inquires as to the contents of the young lady’s vehicle. It’s a metaphor. Some people keep their possessions in the front or back seat of their car, on display for all to see. But it’s never real. It’s merely the illusion that people put forth. Here, the man wants to see what the woman keeps in her trunk, hidden from general view. He wants to get to know the woman inside.

I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk, Get you love drunk off my hump. My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps. (Check it out)

Here the woman answers him. She’s not ready to just so willingly give forth the contents of the trunk – i.e. her soul. She wants him to work for it. She’s willing to tempt him with her obviously hideous body (the girl has a hump – she’s been shunned her whole life). She doesn’t want to show him the real her until he’s seen the ugly side of her and is willing to accept it. She directly urges him to “check it out.”

I drive these brothers crazy, I do it on the daily, They treat me really nicely, They buy me all these ice-ys. Dolce & Gabbana, Fendi and then Donna Karan, they be sharin’ All their money got me wearin’ Fly gearrr but I ain’t askin, They say they love my ass ‘n, Seven Jeans, True Religion's, I say no, but they keep givin’

The woman continues to put all her cards on the table. She admits to driving her brother’s crazy. Like most people with physical deformities, they command the attention of their family, much to the dismay of siblings without physical deformities. Here, she laments that her brothers are annoyed by the overall attention her family gives to her because of her hideously large hump. She further admits to doing it on a daily basis. The brothers are annoyed, but in the end they know that family is important so they show their love in the only way they know how – they buy her things. The woman has built up so many walls in order to protect herself that the only way her family members have found to demonstrate their love is with earthly possessions. Here, our female narrator is again showing how difficult it is to love her – she can’t hear the words, the only thing that can break through her barriers are things – even though she doesn’t ask for these things, she even goes so far as saying no. But they can’t stop. They love their hideously deformed sister and will continue to shower her with possessions so she will believe that.

So I keep on takin’ And no I ain’t takenWe can keep on datin’ I keep on demonstrating.
My love, my love, my love, my love You love my lady lumps, My hump, my hump, my hump, My humps they got uShe’s got me spending. (Oh) Spendin’ all your money on me and spending time on me. She’s got me spendin’. (Oh) Spendin’ all your money on me, on me, on me

Here she goes so far as to tell the man that if he’s willing to fall into the trap that her family has put her into – giving her stuff in return for affection - she will live up to her end of the bargain. It’s the subtle nuances in the performance that give some subtext to what’s not written. Along with the additional humps she is revealing here, might there be something more? Some dark secret with her brothers that she’s afraid to admit? It’s difficult to pick up but if you can hear the soft cadence in singer Fergie’s dulcet tones you can hear the slight gulp of a secret.

What you gon’ do with all that junk? All that junk inside that trunk? I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk, Get you love drunk off my hump.

Tired of all the talking that the woman is doing, her “fronting” if you will, the man again reiterates his initial request. He wants to know what she’s hiding. And like the classic film characters of the golden age (Olivia Newton-John’s Sandy to John Travolta’s Danny) she tries to divert his attention by not really focusing on the issue at hand.

What u gon’ do with all that ass? All that ass inside them jeans?

Not one to back down, the man tries a new approach. Slipping once again into metaphor, he’s wanting her to expose the deeper parts of her soul (her “ass”) that she keeps covered by the metaphorical walls she builds (her “jeans”).

I’m a make, make, make, make you scream Make u scream, make you scream. Cos of my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump. My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps. (Check it out)

Concerned now because of the man’s relentless nature, the woman admits that when she reveals her true self to him that he will be frightened. He’s going to scream because of the uncomfortable nature of her true self. These humps that she’s fond of speaking of, might they be metaphorical as well?

I met a girl down at the disco. She said hey, hey, hey yea let’s go. I could be your baby, you can be my honey Lets spend time not money. I mix your milk wit my cocoa puff, Milky, milky cocoa, Mix your milk with my cocoa puff, milky, milky riiiiiiight.

This man has been around the block a few times. He confesses that he once met a girl at the local dance hall and even left with her. The relationship was short lived though because he’s willing to jump back into the scene again. He doesn’t want to be in the same position as before though. He wants to surrender his independence and have her be his mother figure (“I could be your baby”). He also doesn’t want to continue the same patterns of behavior that her family has forced her into. He doesn’t want to shower her with gifts, he just wants to hang out with her and have some nice tasty breakfast cereals. And what goes better with tasty breakfast cereals than some frosty milk? Mixing the milk that the woman can provide with the cocoa puffs the man brings is like the two halves of one whole coming together. It’s primal. The man gathers the grain while the woman supplies the juice that only women can provide.

They say I’m really sexy, The boys they wanna sex me. They always standing next to me, Always dancing next to me, Tryin’ a feel my hump, hump. Lookin’ at my lump, lump. U can look but you can’t touch it,

The woman admits that it’s hard for her to start a new relationship. She is constantly the subject of ridicule. The boys stand next to her and try and sneak a quick touch of her deformity. It’d be difficult for anyone to face. She tells the man flat out, though, that she won’t be embarrassed if he looks at her hump (or lump), he just can’t touch it. After years of torture from her peers she is finally refusing to be ridiculed any longer.

If u touch it I’ma start some drama, You don’t want no drama, No, no drama, no, no, no, no drama So don’t pull on my hand boy, You ain’t my man, boy, I’m just tryn’a dance boy, And move my hump.

She goes even further here, stating that if curiosity gets the better of him and he does reach out to brush his hand on her deformity that she will “start some drama.” It’s not clear what exactly this indicates as the word drama is far reaching. I think the best and most obvious connotation is that she’s going to imitate the characters off of her favorite drama on television. The word drama is personal to her. It relates back to her reality. Clearly her deformity keeps her sheltered a lot and she turns to television for support.

Now, I think it’s obvious that her willingness to “start some drama” is a threat. And what television drama can be more threatening than “The Sopranos?” I think the woman has been holed up in her own private world for the past few years and really into the most critically acclaimed show of the past few years, so much so that when she threatens to “start some drama” she’s indicating that she’s unafraid to become like those characters in her favorite television program – those vile and ruthless gangsters. If this man happens to grasp her deformity, he’s going to end up like poor Adriana – crawling through the woods, screaming for help until she’s eventually stuck on a poorly written spin-off series.

My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump. My lovely lady lumps, My lovely lady lumps, My lovely lady lumpsIn the back and in the front. My lovin’ got u, She’s got me spendin’. (Oh) Spendin’ all your money on me and spending time on me. She’s got me spendin’. (Oh) Spendin’ all your money on me, on me, on me.

The woman now has started to become unglued. She’s so focused on her physical deformity and is now making sure that the man realizes how massive this piece of flesh is. She calls attention to it no less than ten times in a row. She does not want him to forget that this is a part of her being. The man confesses that he’s already started falling into the trap – purchasing goods for her.

What you gon’ do with all that junk? All that junk inside that trunk?

The man gets back on point. He’s started spending money and he wants what he initially asked for – a look inside her soul; a chance to get to know the real person.

I’ma get, get, get, get you drunk, Get you love drunk off my hump.

He asks the same questions and she returns with the same flippant answers, afraid to bear her true nature. It’s too harmful. Too much for her to face. She’s lived with this deformity for too long and she can’t take it. She can’t take one more rejection. Instead she resorts to that sad trap of trying to drink her problems away. Even though she says she’s going to get him drunk, it’s clear that it’s merely a ruse to cover up her own self-destructive behavior.

What you gon’ do with all that ass? All that ass inside them jeans? I’ma make, make, make, make you scream Make you scream, make you scream. What you gon do with all that junk? All that junk inside that trunk? I’ma get, get, get, get you drunk, Get you love drunk off this hump.

He keeps asking her, trying to keep her focused, begging, nay pleading, with her to really get to know the woman behind the “hump” but she remains unwilling to give herself over to him. She once again threatens that he will be frightened if he ever knew her true nature – perhaps backing up her claim to start “some drama.” Clearly this woman has secrets. The man is going to have to try a new approach.

What you gon’ do wit all that breast? All that breast inside that shirt?

Rather than focus on her vehicle or her pants, both metaphors of course, the man switches gears and asks about her breast. This is a call back to his earlier assertion that they combine their foods – his cocoa puffs for her milk. Her he talks directly about her breast – the giver of the milk. Where is she going to hide this milk from him? What is she going to do with this “shirt” another metaphorical road block to the man getting to the heart and soul of this woman?

I’ma make, make, make, make you work Make you work, work, make you work.

To use the street language – the man has to get a J-O-B if he wants to be with her. The man was willing to give it all to her but the woman just couldn’t get past her past. Her deformity has created too many problems in her all to short life and even though she knows it’s wrong, the only way she can keep herself protected, safe from the world around her, is to fall into the same old traps. Keep having the men in her life provide her with gifts. She resigned herself that love will not happen for her, certainly not while she has this monstrosity on her back.

She’s got me spendin’. Spendin all your money on me and spendin’ time on me She’s got me spendin’. Spendin’ all your money on me, on me, on me.

And with that, the man gives up. He no longer has the energy to go to great lengths to learn the true nature of this woman. She’s built too many walls, too many barriers to keep herself from every loving, truly.

Clearly, this song is a melancholic ode. It’s sad and tragic undertones provide an interesting dichotomy to the otherwise upbeat melody. The Black Eyed Peas have created a deep and introspective anthem for the new millennium. Are we all so afraid to show our inner selves – our “humps” – that we build these walls to keep love from entering our hearts and minds? Something to think about…