Sunday, February 29, 2004

Jump for Joy!!! Wait, I meant, "Leap...for joy!" Dangit, it's not funny anymore.

Hey, hey! It’s leap day! Created as a gift from me (TAM) to you (someone, not me).

No, that’s silly. I didn’t invent leap day, I’m just the first person to talk about it…EVER!

But, as I’ve stated, it’s Leap Day! You know what that means, don’t you? It means that we have one more extra special day in this already extraly special year! Let me list the specialness for you so that you can actually count your blessings on this holiest of days.

Peace be with you Leap Day, The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory are yours now and forever. Amen.

This Blessed Day means that Black History Month is a little longer than it’s usually pathetic 28 days and,for the first time in four years, is a respectable 29, so you have more opportunity to learn about John Brown, apperantly who’s body lies a’rottin’ in the grave!

Now, if you’ve jumped to the conclusion that the extra day is a part of some kind of “Reparations” deal or you don’t know who John Brown is then you could use this extra day to it’s full advantage!

February 29th also means that wacko children of the earth nut-jobs will be pushing for a 30 day per month calendar. They theorize that the governments of the world keep us on the “get behind and catch-up,” antiquated form of calendaring, in order to make us tired and obedient. They hope to see their "perfect" months so as to bring all of humanity into a harmonious relationship with the universe! Check it out how goofy the French can be!

Yet another perk to this day is the humor that it brings. Middle aged people born on this day will be receiving hilariously funny joke gifts and cards intended for ten year olds! My sides are splitting just thinking about that! No, really, they’re splitting...! Maybe I should see a doctor?!

But, perhaps the most important meaning of this extra day is that hard working stiffs everywhere will pick up an extra day of pay! (Don’t be confused by the fact that it’s Sunday today, there’s still an extra work day in there somewhere for you lucky enough to have the weekends off). This means that we can cope a lot easier with the poor state of the economy or maybe we can afford one small portion of the astronomical cost of competent health care or we can put it in into savings in lieu of the Social Security money that we’ll never see again! Now, if only I weren’t unemployed that might mean something (it means nothing to you suckers on salary either).

Man, now I’ve brought everyone down.

To cheer back up, just think about a longer Black History Month or the 30 day calendar or those…he he he…joke gifts…he ha ha! My sides are splitting again! Ha ha ha! So much blood…

Happy Leap Day!!!

Fun Fact: Contrary to what some people may tell you, I never cheat at table-top shuffle board! God, I’m a good person.

Saturday, February 28, 2004

TAM...The Cartoon!

Hey, look what I done did.

As you can see (if I did it right), the new feature that I spoke of is TAM the cartoon. Now, it's not all that pretty. As I go on and add more of them I'll try to make it look a little better (i.e. the scan quality and the fact that some of it got cut off). My scanner is too small for the size of the original artwork. I'm okay with that. It's in no way a reflection of my manhood...I hope.

After this first "supersized" cartoon I will start a series. If the picture is too large, let me know (I was trying to make it as clear as possible). The series will consist of about three or four panels each. I have three more done so far and we'll see how long I can keep up with it.

Maybe I'm being optimistic? I mean, I can hardly keep this blog interesting with new post as it is. And the cartoon will not be new every day either.

Check back in for updates.

Thanks to "Johnny" for the tutorial (I could have done the Google search for the image hosting though, thanks).

I'll figure out this HTML eventually. Just in time for it to be obsolete.


Fun Fact: My downstairs neighbor's "Baby Daddy" is loud, obnoxious, and likes to park on the lawn.

Friday, February 27, 2004

Help! I Said, "Help!!!" (are you deaf?)

Sorry, I'm just so excited!

I'm trying to add a new feature to TAM. Something to suppliment the already existing and exciting features of this blog including, but not limited to, Fun Facts facts.

Here's the rub. I need to find a free image host and then I need to learn HTML to try to figure out how to post the new feature.

The ol' "Host and Post."

Watch out, it's the Host and Post! You'll be watching the fancy footwork and then *POW*...the Host and Post!

Would someone learn me on this proceedure please. I needs help.

Thank you all so much,

P.S. The new feature will be fun, so the sooner the better.

Fun Fact: You can make Ice Cream in five minutes just by using two Zip-Lock bags, Ice, Salt, Milk (any kind), and Vanilla. And it's really, really, good! (especially if you throw in some almond extract)

Wednesday, February 25, 2004

"Steve, do you take Steve to be your lawfully wedded..." Whaoh, not so fast, Steves.

Hey Kids, don’t make me say “I told you so.”

I feel like I need to clear up this whole mess about “same-sex marriages.” Think of it as a public service. From me to you. That’s what this blog is about after all, right? And since I have been to about six wedding in my life (two of which were my mother’s and three of which are still going strong) I think I have the knowledge that it takes to break through the confusion.

There’s been a lot of talk about “same-sex marriages” in the last couple days. Some say that Ol’ Georgie Dub is just using his stance on this issue as a political hot button. A little something to make us all forget about the economy and the war and the revocation of certain inalienable public rights and the threat to Social Security and the deficit and unemployment and the health care crisis…

Give the guy a break. He just doesn’t want no “Queeries” mucking up our social status quo.

You’ve got to hand it to him. The guy’s just a few steps ahead of the rest of us. And isn’t that what we look for in a leader?

I know what you’re all thinking. You’re thinking, ”wait a minute! I thought that TAM was a little more understanding and compassionate!?”


But, truth be told, I am being compassionate. I am a child of the good old U.S. of A. I’ve been around the block (a couple times a day, I like to take walks). I know of that which I speak. I thinking of my people here!

Look, here’s the deal. Marriage is a sacred institution. It needs to be protected. Since the dawn of time, there have been unions between Man and Woman. Beginning in the days of Adam and Eve. Back before the dinosaurs even.

”Sure,” you’re saying. ”But the institution of marriage has been going downhill for a while now! How do explain that, huh?! What were you doing to protect marriage then?! Why do so many people get divorced, huh?!”

I say, calm down. And don’t yell at me. Here’s my theory about the slow degradation of marriage (and look out, this could rock your liberal world)…

It’s the Fag’s fault. Yep, I said it. Fags, fairies, queers, etc…I’ll stop before I get to the politically incorrect terms.

How do you expect any self-respecting heterosexual marriage to stay fast when there has always been the looming threat of same-sex marriages? Huh!? That’s why we need to clear this up as soon as possible. That’s why we need to close that little loophole in the constitution. I’m sure that our founding fathers never anticipated that fags would be using our great nation’s defining document as a pillow case…A pillow case to be bitten!

I mean, it’s bad enough that the blacks used the constitution against us before we could ratify an amendment. And now look at the state of things. White athletes everywhere are out of work! We’re even losing our grip on the world of Golf! Damn you Tiger and Vijay (he’s dark anyway)!

I’m getting off the subject. Gay’s shouldn’t be allowed to get married! It’s simple logic, people. Look, homosexuality is against a certain person’s view of God. God is a certain kind of Christian. Those Christians invented a type of marriage. Therefore, homosexual marriages are against that type of Christianity. And what is our government for, if not to uphold the values of one person’s view of Christianity?!

I thought that would shut you up.

But, in case you’re still murmuring to yourself under your breath, here’s another, more practical, concern.

If Gays can marry, then how will we know that our future spouses will not turn out to be Queers? And, furthermore, how will we know that we are not, ourselves, all Faggie and stuff?

And Mr. Kerry, don’t think that we don’t see through your “civil unions” crap. Kudos to you for not wanting Dykes and Gays to be “married.” But where does that leave people like me? People who are just waiting for “common law” to make the hard decisions for them? I swear, Mr. Kerry, if you get elected, and your “law” passes, and I wake up one morning with the urge to move to West Hollywood and wear Speedo’s, I will personally come to your house and rearrange all your furniture! And not in a tasteful, yet sassy, way.

In conclusion, giving the right to marry to just anyone will screw up our heterosexual identity. We need more than the just urge to have sex with the opposite gender to make us special and different. We’ve already lost our party planners, night clubs, and the Navy, if we lose marriage then how long will it be before we lose the other reasons that we are different than gays?

Thank you for your time.


The next thing you know just anyone will be able to have children. And, remember, sex is for procreation, not recreation.

Fun Fact: This is my longest post yet and I broke my record for most italics! Also, my copy of MST3K’s Shorts Vol. 3 is here! Yeah!

Tuesday, February 24, 2004

Man, Am I..."Tired." (ha, ha, ha. Get it?...well, it's funnier if you've read the post).

Wow, two posts in as many days!!

Yesterday was all about my car. I drive a crappy little ’91 Ford Escort that I bought from some very good friends who made me a killer deal on it. Incidentally, it’s the first car I’ve owned since 1997.

I grew up in Washington, as most of you know, and the nice thing about that state is that if you find a car that runs, you can go ahead and drive it. No doors? No hood? Leaks gasoline? Go ahead, drive it…just wear your seatbelt (if you have a seat). That’s the way I’ve been living since I could drive. I’ve owned a ’71 Chevy Nova that got 12 miles to the gallon (got it for free from my mom), a’78 Datsun ($400), an ’81 Honda Civic hatchback (my favorite and most expensive car ever. $600), a ’79 Honda Accord hatchback ($300), and a 1980 Toyota pickup (free from my Grandfather’s passing). None of which would pass the LA county Emissions test. And all of which have since gone to that big freeway in the sky (I totaled three of them, only one in an accident. The other two I just drove until the wheels fell off…the Civic literally).

The reason that I bring this up is that I had to go and get my car smog-checked yesterday. But first I had to go and get two new tires for it (I blew a tire on the 10 freeway the other day at 5:00 in the morning). In retrospect, I should probably have gotten the check first, but being optimistic, I opted for the tires first. This made the smog check a hell of a lot more nerve racking. I don’t know what I would do if the car didn’t pass. I can’t afford to have it fixed until it does. I could barely afford the tires. I didn’t want to be stuck with a car that I could not drive with $110 worth of new tires on it.

So there I am at the “Just Tires” place. It wasn’t that bad. I got a kick out of watching the tire guy try to figure out the broken seat belt. It’s sort of embarrassing. I Jerry rigged it with a bolt that I found, I’m not sure if it works, but it looks like it does, and that’s the important thing. Don’t worry about the tire guy, his life wasn’t in any real danger. He only had to drive the thing about 20 feet and if he had gotten into a bad accident in that short of a distance then he has bigger problems than my seatbelt. Besides, I was more embarrassed watching him try to close the door without a handle.

It’s a tire place so, of course, they tried to sell me four tires, but I held my ground at two. I’m a freaking rock! I also told them to put the new tires on the drive wheels and then just use the best of the other three for the rear wheels. I don’t think that they could possibly have appreciated my joke fully until they saw the other three tires. By all counts, given the condition of my tires, I should be dead by now.

My major concern was being ripped off. So, like a good little surfer, I checked the prices of tires on the internet. I was going to hold fast at $40 a tire. I got them for $31 without saying a word. Damn. You try to be tough… I realize that I’ve told you what I paid, and that it’s an invitation to some jerk out there to say, “you paid what?! Man, you got ripped.” There’s always someone. You could buy the Hope Diamond for a dollar and a quarter and someone would say, “Oh, man, you should have come to me first, I could have gotten it for a buck!”

So, yes, I paid $110 dollars for two new tires. But in my defense, that included stems, balancing and rotation! So there.

My car drives a lot better with new tires, I noticed as I drove to the “Check only” smog-check place. It was shaped like a little pyramid. I think it would have been funny if the smog guys would have been dressed like Pharaohs…but they weren’t.

Getting a smog check is, like I said, a very stressful situation. I could have made myself a little calmer if I hadn’t watched the machine at work. The whole time I kept thinking, “oh crap, it’s in the red! I didn’t pass! Oh, wait…now it’s green, I passed! No, it’s red again…damnit!” I’m sure that’s what it would be like to watch your blood work being processed for an STD test (maybe not?). If you don’t understand the process, then you just shouldn’t be a witness to it. You’ll only give yourself an ulcer. And that’s a whole new set of blood work.

The point of my story is…my car passed! Yeah.

I don’t know what I was so worried about. I mean, my car hasn’t been with anyone since the last time it was checked.

That’s good parenting there.

Fun Fact: My car is a blue (and rust colored) Ford Escort Pony with a pink pin-stripe and her name is Daisy.


Monday, February 23, 2004

The Stars at Night are Big and Bright (clap, clap, clap, clap)...

I just flew back from Texas…and boy, are my arms tired.

But seriously, folks, have you ever been to West Texas? It’s a strange and alien place. Really flat. Really, really…flat. Big sky country (sorry Montana, but I saw more sky from the ground in Texas than I did on the plane ride there). Actually, I prefer a little more vertical landscape. Actually, I prefer a landscape. Come on, Texas, what gives? If it weren’t for the clouds, we’d have nothing to look at. Trees maybe? Something. If I had to sum up West Texas in one sentence (and I’m going to because I need to move on) I would say it was, “nature…unpolluted with vegetation.”

So we were in Lubbock. The reason we went was not just to take in the lack of scenery, but to attend Tanya’s sister’s wedding. It was a nice wedding, as weddings go. They had it at the Holiday Inn, which, by the way, has the dubious honor of possessing the largest indoor atrium of any hotel in all of Lubbock. At least that’s what the sign at the airport said. Why would the sign lie? It seems to me that if any hotel in Lubbock had an atrium larger, there would be holy hell raised.

But I digress; I’m not here to talk about atriums. Unless you want me to?

Didn’t think so.

Like I said, it was a nice wedding. Have you ever attended a wedding with your live-in girlfriend (or boyfriend) of five years’ family? It’s an experience. As you can guess, Tanya caught the bouquet…not necessarily because she wanted to, but because she had to do something, it was hurtling straight for her face at ninety miles per hour. (Now I don’t attend that many wedding so I’m not sure if this is always the case, but I was under the impression that the bride wasn’t supposed to be facing the women she’s throwing to?)

I picked up the garter. I mean that. It was lying at my feet and the reception wasn’t going on until I did.

I also got to play videographer. Again. I did my sister’s wedding as well. I’m working up quite a resume. If anyone needs someone to tape their wedding…don’t ask me, I don’t want to do it. Not that it’s too much trouble. I just don’t like thinking all through the ceremony and reception, “I’ll fix that in post.” One thing I learned is that nothing but sleep will fix an obnoxious drunk. (I feel the need to clarify, no one was drunk at the ceremony but there was an obnoxious drunk at the reception…you know who you are.)

However, the camera did give me a reason not to answer the question, “so, when are you two getting married?” The only question that beats that one for frequency is, “so…when are you two going to have children?” Huh…times, they are a changin’. Everyone wants to be invited to the wedding and I always tell them, “if that time comes, we’re getting married at a drive through in Vegas.” And I don’t think they understand that I’m serious because they always say, “well…I want to be there.” Maybe it sinks in when I tell them that “it’ll all depend on the size of the car.”

That last part, ironically, is the same answer I give to the other question.

But, all in all, the wedding was great. There were the typical plastic Roman columns that no self-respecting hotel wedding can do without (oh, the traditional Roman wedding). And I got to show off my decorating skills to all of the older women who were helping (no one drapes tool like me). They all thought that I reminded them of Christopher Lowell and yet they still asked when I was getting married. I have a feeling, though, that these women will be sitting around one day with some friends and find themselves saying about old Christopher… “He’s what?!”

Ah, the mysteries of life.

Oh, wait, one more thing before I go. Why is it that so many married people always say things to unmarried couples like, “…everything changes when you get married.” And it’s never all that pleasant. It’s always said like some kind of ominous threat. Like when you ask someone if the milk’s gone bad and they say, “I’m not sure…you can go ahead and try it…”

So, to all you who may find yourself saying this to a poor couple in the future:

What exactly are you trying to do!? Do you think that you’re helping!? Is that advice!? Or is it just some kind of stupid “heads up!?”

Look, pal, you’ll never scare me away from marriage! Just the idea of it is doing perfectly fine without you, thank you very much!

P.S. The same goes for kids.

Fun Fact: While in West Texas I did not go to El Paso and I did not fall in love with a Mexican girl. I did, however, get shot in the back while riding away from the cantina and died in the saddle (with my boots on).

Thursday, February 19, 2004

Bead Me a Shimmering Dance


Anyone looking for a new sweater? Go here for some fabulous buys.

Ol' Leslie is always happy to see you. I recommend pairing each sweater with tight gold vinyl pants.

Go here for more. Find out what's the haps' at Ames High or what June Huxley's project has to do with the "Hefty Hideaway."

Fun Fact: Leslie Hall has no fun.

...Would You Like Windex With That?

Alright, another exciting day, another exciting post.

I’ve had a lot on my plate today. I went to the recycling center! Isn’t that exciting?! I’ve earned $ one day! Just for driving a couple blocks. Well, that, and I had to look at ugly empty Diet Pepsi cans for the last three weeks

With all the Diet Pepsi we go through around this apartment, you would think we’d get rich recycling, right? Wrong. I used to think that way and then I realized that we spend far more money on the actual Diet Pepsi than we get back with the cans. It’s just not fair. Promises were made, damnit!

Anyway, as I was lugging the two bags of cans out of my back seat, I overheard these guys who worked there arguing about when they should take their lunch. Lunch? The place smells like a vomitorium (The Roman kind, not the theatre kind). How could they think about lunch? It’s amazing what people can get used to. Have you ever been near a slaughterhouse? I’ll bet those people eat lunch too. I wonder if they eat meat for lunch and then quip about their bologna sandwich saying things like “remember when this looked like a cow?” And then another worker would say, “Doug,” (that’s the one worker’s name) “Doug, the part of the animal that this came from never looked like a cow.” And then they’d all laugh and put more ketchup on it? Something to think about, I guess.

In the 5th, 6th, and 7th grade I lived in a small town, population: one thousand, called Odessa Washington. And during that time I had a girlfriend (off and on, it was a rocky romance, damn you Duane Polinski!) her name was Jody Kay Kolterman. Jody’s parents managed the trailer park on one side of town (it was a pretty nice trailer park at the time so keep your jokes to yourself). I would spend a lot of time with her even though I lived all the way on the other side of town. I was willing to make the hard ride to see her every day (five minutes on my bike). Now, her parents sole source of income wasn’t the trailer park, they had another job. One day Jody asked me if I wanted to eat lunch with her and her parents at their work. If you had known me then (I weighed the same as I do now, I think), you would know that I would never turn down free pizza, so I went.

Now, Jody’s parents were good people…I think…I mean I was 10 at the time, they seemed good to me. They wore hats with their nicknames on them and people called them by those nicknames. I don’t think that I ever learned their real names and I can’t remember what their nicknames were but they were something like “Creepy” and “Scraggy.” Those aren’t them, but that’s real close (please keep in mind that it was a nice trailer park).

I digress.

I met up with Jody Kay at her double-wide and we headed out towards the railroad tracks to where her parents worked. In Odessa everyone worked near the railroad tracks. So, we get there and drop our bikes at the door. Just inside the sliding steel door I can see her parents with two boxes of pizza. So, me being the little butterball that I was, rush in to eat (when I was a kid the only place I rushed to was a meal, you would think that I would have dropped a few pounds, or at least been a little embarrassed by my actions, especially when I did it in high school…I’m not kidding).

That’s when it hit me. The smell. They worked in an ammonia plant!

I’m not kidding. It was awful. If you want an idea of what it was like, go to your cabinet, open up the ammonia, and stick your nose in it. Now try to eat a stick of pepperoni. It was the first time in my life that I was starving, and yet at the same time, not hungry. I tried to be gracious. I didn’t want “Itchy” and “Scratchy” to think that I was ungrateful. So, somehow, I just kept gnawing on the same slice for the next half-hour while my head felt like it was literally pushing out my ears. None of the others seemed to be having the same problem that I was. I think they finished off both pies. Man.

And that was the day that I discovered what the 60’s were all about.

Fun Fact: I once collected about 300 Snapple Lemon Iced Tea bottles. They took up most of my bedroom closet and apartment storage area. I was going to make a castle out of them, but I threw them away instead.

Somewhere, in LA, a transient is weeping.

Wednesday, February 18, 2004

If You See a Mind Laying Around...It's Mine.

Okay, okay…I’m sorry.

I’ve been a busy man. Hard to believe isn’t it? This weekend I put in about 48 hours of work in three days! When it rains it pours, I guess (kudos to Morton’s Salt).

Am I feeling funny? Not really. No, really, it’s not a joke. I’m warning you. You should stop reading this. I’m tired. Shut up!

However, my Morton’s Salt reference earlier made me wonder why they use the slogan “when it rains it pours,” and why that little girl on the logo is carrying around (and spilling) all that salt, and why is it raining? What does salt have to do with rain? Why does that little girl need all that salt? Does she care that it’s spilling? Or, is she maybe participating in some kind of slug genocide? Maybe that’s why it’s raining, because all the slugs come out. Is she targeting snails as well? It seems only fair, I mean, when you think about it, snails are just slugs with fancy campers. Whay does Morton’s Salt hate our little slimy friends? Just because you create a powerful weapon against a species of creature doesn’t mean that you have to hate them so much. Screw you Morton’s Salt! Are you just mad because it takes us so long to go through a canister of your product? Is that why you have to find lethal uses for it?! I take back my kudos!

Boycott Morton’s Salt! They exploit logo children for their sinister ends!

My reference to Kudos earlier reminds me of granola bar type snacks. Do they still make those? Does the Kudos Company hate slugs too? How far up does this go? How long can I talk about slugs? All day really. No, really, all day. If they do in fact hate slugs, will I have to stop using the word “kudos?” Does anyone really use that word anymore? Do slugs ever use the word “kudos?” Do slugs realize that they are being targeted by huge corporations? Do they also think, as I do, that the picture on the front of my baking soda looks like World War II era communist propaganda?

I have more questions than answers people.

I warned you not to read this.

Slug Facts: Slugs are vegetarians and eat plants. Slugs use a long and very strong foot to move. No toes. And it's unlikely you would recognize a snail's (slugs) foot since it is very different from a human foot. Instead it's a long protrusion the snail uses to propel itself, just like humans use their feet. Slugs are invertebrates belonging to the scientific classification "Phylum Mollusca" and are closer to the octopus than the insect family. That means the lowly little slug you stepped on when you went to get the newspaper this morning is related to those huge creatures found deep in the ocean! (info. lazily cut and pasted from here)

Fun Fact: Perry Mason is on my TV! He tells me to do things. Ah, Perry, you so cleaver! Uh, I mean clever. That was a close one Perry.

Thursday, February 12, 2004

Why Does a Chicken Coop Have Two Doors?

Because if it had four doors it would be chicken sedan.

He, he, he,

I love that stupid joke.

Not a lot of time today, people. Sorry. But I think I can give some quick advice to a needy reader. Here were her questions. Yes, I said questions. With an "s." Plural. More than one. A few actually. That's three.

How can I eat all the Oreos I want and not have them turn into fat on my tush? How can I get a decent job on the Ellen Degeneres show? Why is 8 hours of sleep not enough for me?
Wannabe fat, lazy, and lesbian at Fox

That's not her real name. Is it Kathy?

Okay, Wannabe, here is my advice:

How can I eat all the Oreos I want and not have them turn into fat on my tush?: Have them make the Oreos out of skirt steaks (for your low carb lifestyle).

How can I get a decent job on the Ellen Degeneres show?: Is there such a thing?

Why is 8 hours of sleep not enough for me?: Because you're lazy.

There you go, Wannabe. I'm always here to help.

That's it, that's all I have time for. It may be slow posting this weekend as the shooting for Nameless Moment starts tomorrow. I still need extras if anyone's available for tomorrow or Suday. Let me know.

Quick News Note: On Good Morning America just now they released the top cities in which women can pick up rich single men. The statistics took into consideration marital status and financial wealth (not to be confused with spiritual wealth which is far more valuable...screw you rich boy!!) Anyway, the top city in the nation was San Francisco! Go figure. Why are there so many unmarried wealthy men in that town? They can't all be young men. There aren't that many rich people under thirty. Why aren't these fine older men married? Maybe it's just because they haven't found the right woman. Start shopping ladies.

Fun Fact: The big penny bank on my desk that looks like a huge Tootsie Roll does not taste like a huge Tootsie Roll.

Wednesday, February 11, 2004

A Rose By Any Other Name Would Still Cost Too Much For A Dozen (unless they called them fartflowers or something...then they might get reasonable)

Hey all, thank you for the comments! I have the best readers ever! No, I mean that! I, like, don't know what I would do without you guys and stuff. You're my bestest friends ever. BFF!

I know that I promised that I would post again yesterday, but I got “the call.”

That’s right. The ministry beckons. I’m off to join a convent.

No, that’s just silly. I have to go and work on this short for Awaken Films. It’s not a convent, but it is for a church. I’m doing my damnedest to try and not “Satan it up” too much for them. Funny though, I ran into someone that I went to College with at the production meeting last night. Of course, if you think about how long I went to college and if you play the odds, theoretically, I should run into someone that I went to college with about every three seconds. And I’m not including Tanya.

The job takes up alot of my Perry Mason time but it does have its perks. I mean, I’ve seen two celebs! I’ve seen Tom Arnold (at Fox) and Little Richard (at SAG)! Tom Arnold…meh, but Little Richard!! Wow. That experience made me think that “Little Richard” seems like something that someone would name their penis!

Okay, down to business.

It seems that someone took my offer for advice very seriously yesterday, so I thought that I would address her problem. Now to protect her identity, I will just call her, “Frustrated at Fox.” But, Julie had better pay close attention too.

This was her Question:

Um, how do I get Tanya to do my bidding? I'm tired of having to photocopy my own stuff.
Frusterated at Fox

Okay, Frustrated. I know how difficult it can be to make so many copies. At least I have heard that it can be very difficult. But, here is what you need to understand about the workplace (I will grant you that I am not actually in the workplace and it has been a while since I have been, so my memory is a bit rusty, but, I have watched many movies and television shows where people worked, and I think I have a good understanding of the subject).

First, Frustrated, I need to understand something: Why would you want someone to do your copying for you? The copy machine is a magical thing! It sits on hallowed ground! It’s a place to socialize, drink water from those water things that make the “glug, glug” noises and say things like “hey, did you hear what Margie said about Phil in accounting?...*whispered* Let’s just say that Little Richard isn’t getting an invitation to the Grammys this year”, and let’s not even begin to discuss the potential for sexual game playing at various randy office parties (which I’m sure that you no-doubt throw there at Fox, I’ve seen your programming).

Let’s assume that you still don’t want to do your own work, okay? Even though you get paid like, I don’t know…it’s a network job, so what…like $100,000.00 a year! I mean what do the taxpayers pay you for?!

Sorry, I got all political on you there.

Look, all that aside, I know that the buttons on the machine can be a bit…confusing. We can’t all be geniuses. So if you want to get Tanya to do all your work for you, here’s what you do.


You thought that I was going to say ‘sleep with her,’ didn’t you? That’s just like you, Frustrated.

Cook for her…every night. Every single evening of your miserable life. Even if you’re tired. Even if you’re vomiting drunk. Even if you’ve spent all day thinking of clever and painless ways to end this painful and pathetic existence. Every Miserable Day!!!!

P.S. She likes Pad Thai from Trader Joes. Do what I do and add some extra peanuts, it makes for a more festive presentation. Not to mention that I find that the peanuts make it more peanutty. Yum.

There, Frustrated, I hope it helped. Keep on truckin’.

Fun Fact: If I move the lid of my scanner up and down in synch with the radio, it looks like it’s singing.

Tuesday, February 10, 2004

I Would Like to Spank the Academy

This is it!

I’ve finally hit the big time! My Blog is now, finally, linked to from another Blog. My friend from high school (and community college), Mike, has done the service of recruiting new readers for me. Hopefully, anyway. That is not to say that I don’t love my faithful few. Without you there would be no Blog. I feel that in the short time that I have known you all we’ve really gotten to make a connection. I don’t usually feel this way about people so quickly. I don’t know, but there could be real feelings here. You know, I’m just a guy from Washington and I don’t usually get to have these kind of experiences, you know. You know, um, it’s just so…you know…and I…I don’t know. You know?

I watched Average Joe Hawaii last night and I think it’s really getting to me…you know?

Now, Mike has written a few stories about me on his Blog, and he’s written them pretty well. Maybe I should return the favor? But, what to write about? He’s already told the story about the time that we killed a man in Montana. He’s also told the story about the time that we got scammed out of ten bucks from a streetwise con-man named Leslie K. Noone. Although, calling ol’ Leslie “street wise” is a little romantic. I mean, how hard could it be to take ten dollars from a couple idiots like us (at the time, at the time we were idiots. Not like now. Mike’s not an idiot now and I am very not a idiot now). In fact, he would no longer, ever, even think of shooting his ex-girlfriend in the back with a BB gun.

I suppose that I could tell you about the “Dramtelda traveling head tour?” It was terrifying. Or the constant toilet papering? Or our dreams of becoming feature filmmakers with the powerful epics of the “Doors II,” or “Marsupial Park?” Or, the time we found the creepy “Red Pumps of the Ghost of The Island that I forgot the name of in the Tri-Cities?” Or “Boomastick?” Or regale you with the powerful ups and downs of the first, and only, season of “Band Buddy Baseball?” (Man, I was a geek…was, was a geek. I am very not a geek now)

I will link to his site, once he teaches me how to do that. (See, I told you I'm not a geek.)

I’m beginning to alienate my readers. Besides, my memory is so damned bad that the stories would make no sense at all. However, if you feel like you have to know any of them, I could give them a shot. Or, read Mike’s Blog every now and again, I’m sure he’ll get to ‘em.

This was a dumb post, I have to tell you. Sorry. I will post something else later, as soon as I think of something to say. But, at least it wasn’t angry, right? I kept my cool even with Anna Nicole Smith’s vacuous vapidity wasting space on my television. Albeit, a little less space lately. Damn, and I was hoping that she’d have a heart attack.

Here’s an Idea! If anybody needs advice…on anything, let me know and I can help. I will turn my Blog into a public service. Just for you. Tanya thinks it’s a weird idea, but my advice to her is…oh, yeah?!

Fun Fact: My TV has a 26 inch screen and closed captioning when it’s on mute. Discuss.

Monday, February 09, 2004

Why can't Paris Hilton stand up straight?

Well, my screenplay is getting nowhere as my muse is sitting in the corner right now eating peanut butter and bacon sandwiches and giggling at me like a drunken cherub.

So, I have decided to post again. Hooray for you!!!! Plus, apparently, some of you may be sitting at work, bored.

My grandmother, the immortal Betty Cox, used to say to me, “if you’re bored, you’re boring.” Now she has passed on and, since it’s a fact that I am way more bored than any of you, I am left with the assumption that I must be the most boring person on the planet.

Let’s talk about Paris Hilton. (Realize that I have just advertised. People will now find this blog at Google while looking for homemade porn videos or lodging in France)

We have only ourselves to blame for her. Sure, we didn’t physically conceive her. I’m sure that even her parents couldn’t have conceived of her while conceiving her. (Although they claim that she’s an angel, and actually try to convince us that they believe that.) We know better.

But what should we expect, right? After all, she’s named after a hotel. She’s supposed to act like a slut.

Tanya tries to explain to me that the hotel’s named after her (her family anyway), but the Hilton hotel in Paris existed long before Paris Hilton, right? Her parents knew this, right? They own the hotel, right? Did they think it would be cute? So, why name her Paris Hilton? Why not call her Parsippany Hilton or Newark Airport Hilton?

But, like I said, Paris’ parents aren’t the reason that I have to look at her stupid rat face every once in a while. Sure, their genes got together over Long Island Iced Teas one night and said “he, he, he, that reminds me of a joke...”

But, we are the problem. I include myself in this. I watched The Simple Life on that stupid network that shall remain nameless. Did you? You see, she actually thinks that we want to look at her.

Let’s stop being a part of the problem and start being a part of the solution, whatever that is, unless you like her of course. In that case, stop reading this and get yourself to a physician.

Don’t give me that, “I don’t like her, but you have to respect her for...” crap. She has all the money she could ever want, the last thing she needs is my respect.

Whoever said that you could never be too rich or too thin has obviously never been exposed to Paris Hilton. Or visa versa.

I’m so angry in this post. I’m really not an angry man; but her money makes me jealous. Her body makes me wonder why I couldn’t have a career as a runway model. And, her face makes me want to eat my own young (okay, you’re right, I have no young, I would never eat anybody’s kids, and besides, I think even the heftiest of cannibals would look at a child as a meal for at least two)!

Roses, rainbows, ducklings, and fluffy, fluffy kitties.

There, that’s better.

I just hate Paris Hilton is all. She gives the French a bad name.

Fun Fact: I like to write very short paragraphs that aren’t really paragraphs. And, Bebop Jazz rocks.

If you lived here, you'd be home by now and have to sleep on the sofa.

Tanya and I went to see The Dreamers at Fox this past weekend. Like I said before, it was gratuitously masturbatory, and I’m not even talking about all the gratuitous masturbation.

It made me think. You know what this industry needs? More films about films. We could also use more screenplays about screenwriters and more paintings about painting as well as some more photographs about photography and songs about sonwriting.

Now, I have to come clean here. I did make a movie in college about theatre majors, but I like to think that it crossed some kind of genre, so it doesn’t count.

I know, I know, write what you know…but you can’t tell me that the only thing that filmmakers know about is making films, or that the only thing writers can write about is writing.

It’s like planning a party to celebrate the party that you’re planning.

Like some kind of self-congratulatory palindrome.

Like waxing philosophical on a stupid blog.

Okay, given, filmmaking and writing, if done well, can be a thankless job. But does that mean that we have to thank ourselves so damned much? Isn’t the money enough (for professionals only)? Can’t anyone just be happy with a job half-done?

The Grammys were on last night. I didn’t watch them. It should be enough that, those musicians in particular, make a few million on their albums? Do they really need a little statue to prove that they made a good album? Are they deaf? Or do they just not dig their own music all that much? They should really trust their songwriters and mixers and producers and distributors and managers and studio musicians a little more.

I want to rock your body…please stay…

Sorry, I was just channeling the spirit of Justin Timberlake for a moment there.

Which reminds me; dude sure did throw Janet under the bus real quick, didn’t he? He’s just a victim, though. I understand, Justin. But here’s something that you need to understand. We American people just aren’t ready for our songs about casual animal sex to have so much casual animal sex associated with them. Life is a family show. Continue to keep your sexual innuendo so heavily hidden within your songs. Let us try and try to figure out what you meant by “rock your body.” It’s like a fun and dirty little puzzle for us. Maybe we’ll never know the answer to such a witty conundrum.

If you want to apologize for something, Justin, apologize for the crap-tastic fantasia that you call an album.

How I got here: The Dreamers > Films about films > Self congratulation > The Grammys > Justin Timberlake > The Superbowl > Sex in the industry.

To come full circle. The Dreamers just isn’t a good movie, no matter how many genitals are in it.

Fun Fact: Kevin just returned two movies from me that he borrowed four and a half years ago. Keep the faith that your Wham cassette will turn up someday.

Wednesday, February 04, 2004

Try to Understand

I'm sorry, but I won't be able to write anything really interesting today (I'm actually venturing out of the apartment).

However, it has come to my attention that the vast majority of my readers are girls, go figure, so in the interest of stimulating dialogue; I will start a couple topics and leave them open for discussion. You do the blog for me!

Okay. Here are the topics. Now, being the incredibly open-minded and sensitive male that I am, I have tailored them to be of specific interest to my chicks.

I have listed them in order of the importance that you dames place on them:

1. Puppies and Kitties

2. Babies (and ovulation and periods and stuff)

3. Gloria Steinem


Boy, I can't wait...wait, I don't want to offend any honey-babies out there...

Girl, I can't wait to see the exciting exchange of thought-provoking insight that these topics will undoubtedly create!!!

Fun Fact: The potato water was a success!!! A great salty success! (recipe forthcoming)

Tuesday, February 03, 2004

My Favorite Subject


I realize that I have been a little relaxed about my duties as a blogger. There could be people reading this that have no idea who I am (Hard to believe, isn't it?).

Here's a little informal information about me. If you know me already you can skip this next part. In fact, just stop reading now. It'll only bore you.

I am a famous Hollywood Screenwriter and Actor.

Look, I told you to stop reading...It's boring stuff and it's only for STRANGERS!

I am also a songwriter and a rock star.

Quiet, you.

I have the world's greatest girlfriend.

...Oh, where are you now?

Yes, it's true, I write screenplays. Actually, the screenplays write themselves, I am merely the vessel that the muse uses to reach it's audience. Right now, the muse is being very lazy. All it wants to do is watch Perry Mason and walk around the neighborhood smoking cigarettes.

Keep watching the blog to learn all kinds of new things about me. Man, blogs are doing for narcissism what Phil Donoghue did for exhibitionism!

Fun Fact: I am making a stew right now, and I suspect that it'll taste like potato water.

Here You Go...Babies.

Okay, using my immense knowledge of the internet, I have now gotten comments. I know, I know, you're thinking to yourself, "How can I possibly comment on this Blog. It is too perfect!"

You have been heard, and understood. Let's just suppose that the option to comment is there so that you can share your stories of enlightenment; enlightenment that you will no doubt glean from reading this fabulous Blog.

While you're at it, you can explain to me the proper way to use semi-colons.


Oh, and I've made the comments link a little "insulting" so as to make myself feel superior. It really works!!!!!! I feel WAY superior.

Sunday, February 01, 2004


I realize that the last post would have made more sense if I hadn't deleted the post before it.

Still Kicking

Wow, it's the second day of my fabulous blog and I'm still number one!!!