A Man Possessed

That’s me. I was out until 1:00 this morning, playing with the demon spawn of hell. But why was I hanging out with Tanya, Stephen and Sue last night in the first place?

We went to the opening night of Knott’s Scary Farm (or Knott’s Halloween Haunt or whatever you want to call it). This is the second year that Tanya and I have gone to the event. Stephen has gotten us into it. He is the foremost fright-fest fan. Myself, I usually prefer to sit around at home coming up with not-so-clever alliterations.

But I had a great time at the Haunt again this year. It seemed more inspired somehow. The monsters were particularly eager (most of them anyway; bored, crazy clowns exempted).

We generally attend the “pre-scare” dinner, which gets us into the park early and allows us to stuff our guts with copious amounts of food, the likes of which I haven’t eaten since grade school (I recommend the hamburger macaroni). This greases the wheels nicely and focuses you on your distended belly, taking your mind of the masses of monsters lurking behind every corner, bush, garbage can, information kiosk…

I would write more about the whole evening, but I’m freaking tired! Plus I’m trying to work a lot of Dippin’ Dots through my lower intestines, so I need some “me” time.

If you live in Southern California and haven’t gone to the Scary Farm, go!

And thanks, Stephen, for the invite!


Fun Fact: Powdered sugar-laden funnel cakes and those picnic tables with the wire mesh tabletops don’t mix.

For the latter half of the night my jeans looked as if they had spent the evening in a nightclub restroom with Lindsay Lohan.

Tables are supposed to stop food from landing on your lap! Isn’t that why they were invented in the first place?!

Unclehood Redux Redux

I’ve gotten a few “requests” to replace the picture of the rubber baby being birthed from the rubber vagina (see previous post). Let me take care of that with some pictures of my brand new – real-life – niece.

In case you forgot, she didn’t have a name for a little while. Well, she has one now. It’s Sorrel Sage Stewart. A fun name. Any name become more fun when you add alliteration! Now the kid’s initials are cool. SSS. It’s always important to put some thought into your child’s initials. It will come in handy when they get high scores on classic video games or when they go off to college and need to identify their CDs so that their roommates won’t steal them.

So, this is my niece. The second picture is my favorite because she looks like she’s having a heated conversation on an invisible phone. Give ‘em hell Sorrel.


Fun Fact: I am also quite fond of Sorrel’s name because she sounds like she hails from Krypton. They just need to change the spelling to Sor El, then she be “super” cool.

Unclehood Redux

Everything’s cooler when you put the word “redux” after it. But only in the “Apocalypse Now Redux” way, not if you’re overweight and poisoned yourself in the 90s with get-thin-quick pills.

Anyway, my sister had another baby. That’s three for her. I’ll post some pictures here when I get them. It’s a girl and she has no name.

So, congrats, Mandy, on your new no-named baby! Congrats, mom, on your latest nameless grandchild, this is what it’s like to have a grandkid who’s name you don’t know…let me know when you’ve gotten used to that idea…we’ll talk.

Virtual pink cigars all around.

I would post more about my new niece but I don’t know much; she has no name, she was 7 pounds 5 ounces, she was born at home in a kiddie pool (which is cool as long as once the baby pops out, you’re not suddenly struck with an inspiration to name the kid “Nemo”), she’s a girl and she’s quite young.

Oh, and she’s obviously a genius.


Fun Fact: My sister hasn’t picked a name because, obviously, there is some debate about it. They also didn’t know the gender until the baby poked its head out to say hello (well, it’s nether-regions anyway).

So I have a suggestion.

Talula.

There aren’t enough Talula’s in the world.

Oh, and that picture at the top is not of my mannequinesque sister giving birth to my rubber-headed niece, it’s a simulated representation (without the kiddie pool and – thankfully – any details that might factually represent the messy event)(also, my sister had the baby at home with the help of a midwife that, as far as I know, didn’t just stand there pointing at my niece’s head).

Criminalize Me?!

I’ve been running lately. For exercise. It was actually Tanya’s idea and I’m glad that she decided that she wanted to do it. I can now run 20 minutes non-stop. It’s only two miles, but hey, it’s a start!

Anyway, I bring this up because since we’ve been running, we haven’t been going to the gym. And since I’m the only man on the planet who starts running and then gains weight, I decided that I needed to hit the gym again. So this morning we went.

The trouble started when we drove home.

I’m sitting in the left turn lane behind two other cars, waiting for an opportunity to make my turn. Since the car at the front of the line had some kind of testicular diminution surgery, the only chance I had to turn without waiting around for the next light came as the light turned yellow.

Here in LA we have what I call the “California Caravan” or the “Tinseltown Train.” It’s when a long line of cars pull through a stale yellow light that turns red to make a left turn. Normally, it would be an illegal turn, but here in Los Angeles the general rule is if your bumper is less than a foot away from the car in front of you, you “technically” count as one car thus making the turn legal again, since the car at the front of the line was in the intersection while the light was still green. The long line of cars becomes a small train, moving as one.

Normally, I don’t like to be part of this phenomenon. It’s kind of a dick move. But since my arms were hurting from the gym and since the first car didn’t have the cojones to make their turn when they had the chance thus making me desperate, I decided to become the caboose.

Evidently, no one told the chic in front of me how the Tinseltown Train works because she slammed on her breaks in the middle of the intersection. I don’t know why she did it, but she was leaving me stranded in the intersection with the cross-traffic bearing down on me, so I gave her a polite “beep beep.”

I didn’t lay on the horn. Just a beep, beep. Short. Controlled. It’s the most polite form of honking there is, mostly because of its restraint, but probably also because it reminds people of the Road Runner. And who doesn’t like the Road Runner?

But the bitch in the car in front of me didn’t take to it. Maybe she’s foreign? Maybe she doesn’t understand how things work here in America? But she got very mad. She started to drive very slowly. When I made a move to pass her in the other lane…she swerved at me!

She actually swerved at me. I don’t take kindly to that. So I pulled in behind her and followed her (she wasn’t going to let me pass anyway, she started pacing the car in the other lane so that I couldn’t). At the next red light, I had to make another left turn, so I was forced to pull up next to her. Needless to say, she moved to the lane furthest from me. Good.

But when I looked over to take a gander at the kind of lady who thinks that vehicular manslaughter is the way to solve driving disputes, she had her cell phone pointed at me.

She was taking a picture of me.

I don’t know why, but apparently she thought that I was about to start some serious shit. Me?! She’s the one that swerved at me! All I did was beep, beep!

First this hideous whore-gorgon wants to strand me in the intersection, then she wants me to rear-end her, then she deliberately and threateningly swerves at me, then she won’t let me pass and I’m the fucking bad guy?!

All I wanted to do was get home from the gym and put my arms in a bucket of ice. I was so offended. I couldn’t believe that she was treating me like some kind of violent thug! I’m not a violent thug. I don’t have a violent bone in my body!

I tell you, it was enough to make me want to pull her from her Volvo and beat her with her own shoes.

What a bitch.


Fun Fact: I got to work with my first real celebrity last week. I did some PA work for a small shoot with Bradley Whitford.

I have to tell you, Bradley Whitford is one cool guy. My hat is off to anyone who’s not afraid to climb up a loading dock in an expensive suit. Between takes he sat on the concrete floor of the sound stage or with the rest of us (there weren’t very many people on this shoot) shooting the breeze about politics (it was a political shoot). Very friendly and dedicated. I have a new respect for the man. Plus, he is one hell of a professional.

Thanks Brad, for not being a dickhead. I feel enchanted and illusioned with Hollywood.

Tease Me, Please Me

Okay, we’ve done it. The new project has been shot!

Like I said, I don’t want to let the cat completely out of the bag yet, not until we’ve “officially” “launched” it. But I will post a picture here today. Steve posted it on his web page yesterday (midnight the day before yesterday anyway). I like the picture so I’m going to “borrow” it and repost it here.

Here. I think it’s pretty representative of the project. It’s pretty much what the whole thing is about.

Olives and pimentos.

Thanks Steve. It’s a great picture. And I guess it’s become our first real publicity photo.


Fun Fact: If you don’t already know what the project is, you’ve probably guessed that it’s some kind of video project. It is. I’ve been watching the raw footage and I have to tell you that I think it’s going to be great. I mean, really quite good. I don’t want to talk it up too much but…it’s good.

However, it wouldn’t be nearly as good as it is without the help of a bunch of fantastic people with unlimited talent.

Thanks you Tanya, Kathy, Steve, Adam, Corrie, Vince, Jimmy, David, Kevin, Allen (I hope I’m spelling your name right – Alan? Alen? AaLlen?) and last but not least Lauren ( I hope I spelled your name right also).

It’s not the largest group of people in the world, but when you add their talent, heart and dedication to the equasion, they’re twice the population of China.

Thanks.

Wait for It…

I’ve been very busy lately. More busy than I’m used to. Usually if I have to get the mail, that’s a full day. But I’ve got a project in the works and phase one is making way for phase two to begin on Saturday.

I know that I’m being purposefully vague about the project and chances are that most of you already know what the project is and are saying to yourselves “why the secrecy? What does TAM think he’s creating anyway? I know what the project is and trust me, it’s not worth all this intrigue.”

I know that it’s not, but I don’t want to talk too much about it right now until it’s ready to be announced officially. And then, trust me, you won’t be able to get me to shut the hell up about it.

For the moment, enjoy a brief preview of some of the work that I’ve been doing lately. This is just some rudimentary graphics work that I’ve had to do to prep the project. As you might have noticed, there’s a colorized version of the TAM Cartoon at the top of the page. Exciting! Well, I’d like to say that I colorized that cartoon out of love for the strip, but alas, it was because of the project.

Enjoy these other fine works! I’m not going to explain them simply because…well…It’s just not that important and it would mean more typing for me and I’m slow enough as it is and I have other things to do today to get ready for the weekend. There.






















Fun Fact: This has been turned into a painting to compliment the other painting I did not too long ago.

G’Day Steve

I’m really bummed. Like really bummed. Steve Irwin is dead. I’ve always been a fan. I liked that guy. He was passionate and weird. Say what you want about the cat, he was genuine. He was cool. And now he’s gone. Crocodiles everywhere have nothing to look forward to now except to be turned into Gucci purses.

I was shocked to hear the news. But I first heard about it from NBC’s Today Show. I didn’t know how he had died. They were re-running an interview that Matt Lauer did with Steve a few years ago after the incident when Steve turned his month-old baby Bob into the world’s youngest Croc Baiter.

In the interview, Matt Lauer was on his high horse, baiting his own croc, firing all kinds of righteous indignation at Mr. Irwin. “How could you do something like this?” “Doesn’t it seem irresponsible?” Palaver like that. Steve sat there defending himself. Getting very defensive. He probably didn’t like some yahoo telling him how to act around crocodiles. After all, Steve Irwin was one of the foremost authorities on the animal. Steve probably wanted to yell out to Matt “Matt, do you know the history of crocodiles?! ‘Cause I do!” But he didn’t. He stayed cool. Well, as cool as he ever was. He was a bit high strung.

Anyway, I’m watching this whole thing. I knew that Steve Irwin had died because it said so on the ticker at the bottom of the screen. I couldn’t wait for Matt to get done belittling Steve so that I could find out what had happened. But no. They played the entire interview. I had to hop on line to find out what had happened.

A stingray?!

Kinda’ cool really. Not many people get killed by stingrays.

But here was a man who did a lot for conservation and zoology and the only tribute NBC could slap together was a 2004 interview of Matt Lauer reading the guy the riot act?! Nice work NBC. Very classy.

Jerkasses.

Why did NBC choose such a bizarre clip? Because it was NBC’s only exclusive interview with Steve Irwin. Sure, they had other clips. Steve’s been on the Today show a few times. But this clip was an “exclusive” and NBC wanted to remind everyone just how cool they were.

Self-serving jerkasses.

I’m getting mighty tired of NBC. And Meredith Vieira hasn’t even started yet. I was going to save most of my rancor for after she started, but I’m not sure if I can hold out that long.

Good-bye, Steve Irwin. You will be missed.


Fun Fact: We have stingrays here in Southern California. Which means that now we have to hear all about the dangers of Stingrays. How deadly are they?! When will we all be killed by them?!

Like about .00001 people a year die of stingray attacks. But now that one killed Steve Irwin, every news outlet everywhere has to wonder if Stingray attacks will increase. Could there be a Stingray conspiracy that has finally come to a head?

More people were killed by Stingrays on the Sunset Strip than ever were by Stingrays in the ocean. But you can mostly blame Chevrolet for that one, for marketing sports cars to rich drunken idiots.

Hopefully the Stingray crap will end soon. Please tell me it will end soon!



Watch, now a Stingray’ll probably kill me. Damn you irony.