I hate Thanksgiving, Easter is bogus, Christmas is borderline tolerable. There aren't many holidays I get excited about. 4th of July g...

Tim the Enchanter and the Rabbit of Caerbannog Costume for Halloween.

I hate Thanksgiving, Easter is bogus, Christmas is borderline tolerable.

There aren't many holidays I get excited about. 4th of July gets me giddy. Halloween makes me go absolutely nuts... in a good way.

Fortunately my girlfriend is nuts too... in a good way.

This year we decided to pay homage to one of our favorite films. Monty Python's Quest for the Holy Grail. By doing so we created Tim the Enchanter and The Rabbit of Caerbannog costumes. Emilee (my amazing girlfriend) made her costume 100% by hand. Including the hood and ears. Which she made quicker than I could cut rough edges in my Tim cape. This girl is a pro.



My good friend Matt decided he wanted to play. So he built The Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch from scratch and came as Brother Maynard.



The people who figured out who we were cheered. The people who called me horny Gandolf were thrown from the bridge of death.

We received a gaggle of smiles and won a costume contest.

And there was much rejoicing

0 comments:

These two DVDs I'm sending back represent the end of a 15 year relationship. But it was time to admit it was turning into a one-sided...

Why I Painfully Quit Netflix DVD Service


These two DVDs I'm sending back represent the end of a 15 year relationship. But it was time to admit it was turning into a one-sided relationship and that Netflix didn't love me anymore.

I mean, not like they used to.

Of course they still give me night time love. When we're in bed... with some steamy streaming. But that part of the relationship I still needed died years ago.

I was just too stubborn to admit it.

Netflix doesn't want you to get DVDs in the mail anymore and they aren't shy at hiding it. It slowly began while they were attempting to beef up their Instant Play. I can't blame them... it was obviously the way of the future and ahead of its time. People needed to understand how incredible it was, and in time. They did.

But there were the people like me that had special movie needs. I needed access to those indie pieces, classic films or odd docs that weren't always a click-away. Sure I owned a crazy amount of DVDs but I can't own everything.

Why can't I dammit?

I kinda didn't need to. I mean, Netflix took the post office by their shriveling testicles and made them their bitch. They achieved next day delivery even on the weekends. I'd send a movie back on a Tuesday and get a 7am notification the following day saying they's received the film. I couldn't do that math in my head or with a TI-30 calculator. They were knocking my movie watching socks off.

But over time that slowed. Occasionally it took 2 days. Sometimes not until late that second day. Part of this was a giant devolution in their system that no one really seemed to key in on. They quit Saturday service.

So that stunk. Patiences over amazement but I kept going. I was still a movie buff. I still eagerly awaited the release of specific films. I'd visit Rotten Tomatoes and see what was being released each week. But then I'd notice something else. There was no rhyme or reason to when movies were released and to whom.

A movie could be sold at Best Buy but not rented on Netflix at the same time. RedBox would have something but not Netflix, Amazon would get something a week before anyone else even had a release date. Consistency people... it's like borrowing movies from my crazy ex-girlfriend.

So after digging through my long-ass queue last week I noticed that everything I wanted to see had a wait. A rather LONG wait. I found myself considering watching Captain America 2 just because it was available.

And like a bad relationship... I was settling just to appease myself.

So I ended it.

Netflix, it's time we see other people. I will be around for instant play. I really will. But HBOGO and Amazon have been working really hard to spend time with me. I hope you understand.

We will always have our "5 at a time" memories.

0 comments:

Last week I posted a video of Ira Glass giving advice to creative people. In return my brother commented to me how funny I wasn't, ...

Hans Gruber Goes To A Christmas Party



Last week I posted a video of Ira Glass giving advice to creative people. In return my brother commented to me how funny I wasn't, how talented I wasn't and that Ira Glass is a bland nothing.

My brother drives a truck for propane company and refers to Obama as the "N-word" President. 

So it stung... but then I had to realize who it was coming from. My family is as creative as Racist-Vanilla. 

So I turned to the creative people in my life. My uber-talented friends. One of which being Noah Moody

Last month Noah and I talked about a vehicle in which he could show off his vocal talent. Mostly impression, V/O work... etc. After some thought I wrote a piece that was a perfect fit. Imagine Hans Gruber heading to a Xmas party and showing off some impressions while waiting for the line to the bathroom. 

So with that, came this. 

I love my super talented friends. They keep me happy and sane. 

Suck it family. 

0 comments:

I am surrounded by creative people who just like me... get frustrated. Often what I see in my head isn't what I create. Occasionally...

Ira Glass has a great message for creative people



I am surrounded by creative people who just like me... get frustrated. Often what I see in my head isn't what I create. Occasionally I wonder if what I draw, write, film or spew out will ever been what is in my brain. Sometimes I nail it, other times I walk away and ponder. But when you see something like this it keeps you going strong.

0 comments:

I've been spending 2014 with an amazing girl, and two giant dogs. And when I say giant, I mean... two GINORMOUS DOGS. Emilee has t...

Life with Two Giant Newfoundlands



I've been spending 2014 with an amazing girl, and two giant dogs. And when I say giant, I mean... two GINORMOUS DOGS. Emilee has two Newfoundlands. Tonka and Tully. They are sweet, loving, and giant.

Did I mention that? The giant part?

Beyond the normal things you'd experience when spending time around two Newfies, things like the amount of space they consume, the drool, the tons of drool, the snoring, the hair and the tons of hair... there's one thing I didn't know would be such a giant change. 

The dog walking non-stop interaction. 

I've learned that taking them anywhere on a leash gets the same attention George Clooney gets trying to get some yogurt. People love Newfies (And yogurt). 

Last week we grabbed both pups and brought them to a local street fair. It was a hippiefest, the smell of hemp bracelets and crystal health orbs filled the air. We each took a 150 lb Newf by the leash and walk up to see the good. 

Or at least we thought we would. Instead something else immediately began. 

"Can I pet your dogs?"

"Sure." We respond. 

"What breed?"

"How much do they weight?"

"Are they hot?"

"How much do they eat?"

Questions never seemed to end. Answer... answer... answer. Thank them for petting and move on.

And by move on I mean walk five feet and repeat. Let them pet, answer questions, thank them, walk and repeat. We spent a good 2 hours at the fair and easily had 30 people approach about her dogs. This was not including individuals who walked by throwing out incorrect Newfie trivia to their easily impressed friends. 

"They are Mastiffs"

"They need to be shaved"

"I love hairy Labs"

"Mitt Romney would have been a great President"

People sure do think they know a lot about dogs they know nothing about. 

I love these dogs. They are my buddies and they clearly love me back. Don't tell my girlfriend but I get just as excited to see them as I do to see her. And they both loved to have their bellies rubbed. But who doesn't?




0 comments:

Last night I read (with permission) my girlfriend's 3rd grade diary. It was one of the great things I've ever place my eyebulbs o...

Writer's Expiration Dates


Last night I read (with permission) my girlfriend's 3rd grade diary. It was one of the great things I've ever place my eyebulbs on. Vibrantly expressing her love of cats and dresses. Proudly listing the names of every stuffed animal she owned on that day. An artist's rendering of a butt with a tongue on it. The details on paper made me know what it was like to be an 8 year old girl in the 90s.

I then think back to the boxes of school papers and art projects I've saved that were created from my offsprings. What time-capsulesque properties they will hold for them and for me. Will they marvel at how well they drew a hand-turkey just 10 years prior?

I watch my 17 year old daughter spew disgust over reading 3 year old Timehops on her phone. Re-living how bummed she was that she was sick, and wondering if she was going to puke just 3 years earlier. "Why would I say that?" she asks.

Then I went back to a 5 year old blogpost. It was expressing my love for In-N-Out burger. I took a photo of my food... and posted it. A now sin I would punish myself via death... by burgers. Oh how times have changed.

I guess I'm just wondering how much we evolve writing-wise on a daily basis. We grow and we mature but how does that relate to the words we use or the style in which we convey them. How many years until I look back at myself today and think what an idiot I was. A decade? A year? After I eat this sandwich? Or will I look back as I did on the diary written by a wide-eyed 8 year old. Will I smile and remember what it was like to love Breaking Bad and Double-Doubles so much? Should we set expiration dates on blogposts? Do we keep them up for an eternity so every few hundred years someone stumbles across our words in a screwed up web-search and learn what it was like to be us, be me for a minute. Maybe an old tweet of mine will make them chuckle.

A legacy in 140 characters or less.

0 comments:

This last weekend my good friend Jenn and myself filmed a sketchy sketch I wrote a few months ago. Production boiled down to finding a ...

How to Open a Wine Bottle with an iPhone - My latest video



This last weekend my good friend Jenn and myself filmed a sketchy sketch I wrote a few months ago. Production boiled down to finding a good break-a-way bottle. One that could be smashed over my head. Sorry if that's a spoiler. Either way, I learned they aren't supposed to have much liquid in them. I learned this the hard way.


0 comments:

I've written and produced a new video. Even put myself in it. Watch it and share it with the world

What If Everything Was Made As Crappy As A Cellphone


I've written and produced a new video. Even put myself in it. Watch it and share it with the world


0 comments:

Since moving to Boise I just keep discovering awesome things. My recent find is there's a subdivision near my house which based the stre...

Boise Streets Named After Ferris Bueller

Since moving to Boise I just keep discovering awesome things. My recent find is there's a subdivision near my house which based the street names from the movie Ferris Bueller.


Last night I drove the streets and took pics of a few streets. Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

Here's a map 

0 comments:

During the decade before my Dad died he was in the process of handing over boxes, bags, albums and handful of photos to me. I think my Dad w...

Finding Old Slides In A Box. Best Find Of 2014

During the decade before my Dad died he was in the process of handing over boxes, bags, albums and handful of photos to me. I think my Dad was a photo-hoarder. I couldn't place many of the pictures. I had to believe perhaps he found them at thrift stores and over time forgot he hadn't taken them.

Some of the pictures were complete gold. 

My dad didn't talk much about his participation my earliest memories. I had to rely on his vast photo collection to know what my youth was all about. 

Oddly, he NEVER talked about his youth. He never talked about the Korean War. He never told me much about his first wife. Beyond having to walk barefoot in the snow, both ways, to school every day I knew very little about my father prior to my own birth. 

And now he's gone... and I have no one to ask. 

A few weeks ago I was looking for some childhood photos and I ran across these. 



I knew little about slide technology. I could remember sitting through some slide shows as a child. I don't remember their content or when they were taken. I just remember the "Click-click" sound and some bright lights. (No... I wasn't high).

I looked a little closer. 


Oh, that's cool. I don't remember visiting this... so perhaps it's pre-me. Further inspection.




Great googly-moogly. That's my Dad. My Dad during the Korean War. Right when it ended and he was stationed in Japan. It's a Dad information Time Capsule. 

I did my best to look at these one by one via my kitchen light but it was a strain and struggle. I knew I had to find an actual slide projector to make these happen. Is there a slide projector store nearby?

Well, apparently there was. An art-gallery downtown likes to find retro-type items and resell them. Emilee and I journeyed inside to find this.


My first attempt to see if it was working left the hot bulb shattering in my hand. Is there a slide projector bulb store? Emilee and I went to breakfast to scour the internet. She went on the eBay and clicked... it was then a "sit and eat and wait" game. 

Days went by and the bulb arrived. I've decided I'm going to wait until my kids and Emilee are around and I'm going to do a "showing" where I can have my kids listen to "Click-click" and be blinded by the lights. But I did a sneak peak. 


Bulb works... wall is a bit hindering...


But that handsome guy on the left... that's my Dad. 

I will be digitizing these slides this month and I will post the best. (who are we fooling, they will ALL be the best.)

0 comments:

Last week I'd learned that someone out there, all Doctor-ish and such, had discovered what is being penned the "Gay Gene". I...

Coming Out Of The Closet Will End Homosexuality

Last week I'd learned that someone out there, all Doctor-ish and such, had discovered what is being penned the "Gay Gene". I won't enter this debate due to my limited knowledge of science, DNA, Genes and what-in-the-hell-do-woman-want education. I will disassociate myself from my homophobic upbringing and my desire to refer to things as "gay" because part of me will always find that word funny. I will look at this through eyes I developed over years from educated opinions, extreme open-mindedness and interaction with dozens of awesomatic homosexual people I've interacted with in my life.

But the biggest reason I've evolved to be far more accepting to other people's lifestyles was how my stomach painfully turned when listening to ignorant-filled hate my friends and family spewed when talking about homosexuality.

The smaller their minds got, the bigger mine became. But I also noticed something very interesting about a few of the people who seemed to hate homosexuality the most, they themselves were pretty gay.

As a child I watched Duke of Hazzard. But I felt horrible for doing so, so horrible that I started a personal campaign for others to know how much I hated the show. I became a closet Duke of Hazzard fan. But even my closest friends had no clue of the truth.

So I have an inkling of the pain a self-loathing homosexual must have. So embarrassed of what you are that you make an effort for everyone six feet from you to know you're not.

To live a lie and inadvertently add to the gay problem.

"Say what Bill?"

Now we go back to the gay gene. If this is so, it's pass from generation to generation. Which can only mean gay people are making more gay people. Now again, I'm not a doctor but I don't see how two penises can do this. (or two vaginas)

So people, listen to me now. If you're so hell-bent to end homosexuality, the best way to do this is to 100% embrace it. Let anyone who wants to be gay... be gay.

If people are no longer afraid to be gay then they won't be forced to marry women, have children, have a wide stance in a public restroom.

If you're free to be gay... you won't breed. You'll adopt babies from other countries and raise them on HGTV.

Before you know it the gay gene will be the way of the Dodo.

Which was the gayest of all birds.











0 comments:

Hey kids, I wrote a new commercial. Watch it... live it... love it.

Rentervention Commercial



Hey kids, I wrote a new commercial. Watch it... live it... love it.

0 comments:

Like most of us, I watch The Walking Dead. It’s based partially on my love for the horror genre and my desire to absorb anything AMC do...

Open Letter to The Walking Dead


Like most of us, I watch The Walking Dead. It’s based partially on my love for the horror genre and my desire to absorb anything AMC does into my system. I remember the days prior to the series premiere and the high hopes I had for this new show.

I mean, it’s Zombies. How can they go wrong?

Well, now I know.

Before you read any further, if you’re not caught up on the series… and by caught up I mean haven’t watched every episode that’s fricken aired… then read no further. Unless my writing is so damn titillating that you just can’t resist.

Now with that, here’s everything I deem crappy about The Walking Dead.

I could go season by season and tear apart characters, story lines, logic even when it’s Zombie related but I won’t

Wait... I will. Somewhat.

But not in that order.  I’d like to get to the dead meat of the conversations and talk Zombies. Let’s see if some questions can be answered? First off, can they run or can’t they? Because I’ve seen them sprint in episodes. Rick barely escaped running Zombies in the first season, now you’d have to be a toddler to get captured. At what point did the writers take off the Zombie’s Nikes and decide it was time to stick to the name of the show?

Can you get infected by blood or not? Let’s go back to season one. “Don’t get their blood on you” Rick says as he’s covered with safety gear to trick the scent-capturing Zombies.

[Note – Rick also said he’d one day tell his wife and family the name of the Zombie they chopped up to honor him… still waiting Rick]

In that same scene, several characters managed to get blood on them. Since then, a character can’t kill a Zombie without getting blood in their mouth and they aren’t even stricken with some mild diarrhea. 

Scratch. Apparently this WAS an issue, but no longer. Last season characters were pushing up the fence against a heard of dead, no one at this point was worried about the location of the antibacterial soap. I’ve seen characters pretty much cuddle with Zombies just to get a knife in their skull. Yet no one has been infected by a good fingernail to the armpit.

Slow Zombies can’t getcha with a scratch or a good bloody-flesh wound. Okay… logic changed again.

Also I quickly need to bring up the strength issues. Zombies aren’t strong enough over power 12 year old girls but can manage to open your stomach in a single tear. Let’s pick a standard.

Now we have issues like driving a new 2013 car after a 2010 apocalypse, everywhere you go lawns are mowed, every house they enter was just dusted, Daryl won’t give up that slow-ass reloading crossbow. But that’s not the main issue.

Here’s my MAIN issue.

When are the Zombies, the same Zombies the show is named after, going to be the actual villains?

I’ve sat through some crappy story-lines waiting for the pay off. I’ve watched 3 episodes of sappy drama to one mildly story-changing action.  I’ve watched them introduce characters just to kill them off episodes later.  And now I’ve seen the latest of villains introduced in the last Season Finale. Another mild-looking Caucasian male.

Forget the graphic novel I haven’t read, or the playbook you took from LOST. Let’s focus on the name again. The Walking Dead. Shouldn’t these guys be the true villains? Shouldn’t they be the ones people fall asleep fearing? The show has made them at the same nuisance level as the homeless people at the Santa Monica Pier. 

The name dammit… the name! Imagine if Alfred Hitchcock gave us a movie called The Bird based on a group of people who couldn’t get a long and started killing each other, while a bunch of inconvenient birds kept pooping everywhere. 

I am begging you to stop focusing on the novel. Obviously it has no biblical standards due to the characters you’ve killed off that were still prominent in the comics.

Make it scary again. Make me freak when a Zombie appears. I want to think that each time someone enters a house full of dead people, we’re going to lose someone good, or Carl.  


Make me love The Walking Dead again. Purdy please.

0 comments:

A month ago an ex-girlfriend entered a raffle while visiting a children's fair. Two weeks later she receives a call saying she won a ...

The Rainbow Vacuum Sales Pitch


A month ago an ex-girlfriend entered a raffle while visiting a children's fair. Two weeks later she receives a call saying she won a $150 air purifier which would be delivered to her home. She was giddy, and had every right to be. Free is fun and winning is gold. Gimme gimme.

During the call she was informed she'd need to block out 90 minutes to be shown how to use it. This made sense I guess, assuming it was assembled by NASA, or they just assumed she was the dumbest person on the planet. She gave them a date close to a week out and marked it on her calendar. 

As the day came closer, and she discussed this with friends, a few flags started going off. She started wondering if they were going to try to sell her accessories, upgrades, solutions or tickets to Mars. What in the Hell took 90 minutes about this? She actually began to create a little anxiety over the appointment. After we ran through one of many scenarios in our heads, we decided I should be there as well. For door-to-door persistent salesperson support. 

An hour before they arrived she created a plan of attack. She was going to tell them she only had an hour for the demonstration. It would limit their pitch, but give them plenty of time to show her how to use it. The door bell rang, she opened the door to see two heavy-set people holding several boxes. They didn't look like service people at all.

They looked like salespeople. 

They came in, introduced themselves and ask her to start moving all her furniture around to open a giant space in her living room. The man walked in her dining room and started dragging chairs out, without asking. They insisted she move her heavy glass coffee table. How big was this air purifier?

My ex said "I only have about 60 minutes." 

The woman looked panicked. 

"We'll have to reschedule then." she said.

My crazy ex was thrown off a little. She countered.

"Well, maybe an hour and 15 if you talk fast"

The woman hesitated, then said "okay, let's go!" 

She took control of my Ex's DVD player and attempted to rip out her prized Sex and the City DVD. Season 3. Right where Mr. Big comes back. Who taught this woman how to hold a DVD. 

She throws in a DVD, hit play then placed her large body right in front of the TV. I didn't see much on it due to her body placement but I think I saw bed bugs and Oprah.

I didn't hear much because she talked through it. She quickly was assembling what I now could see was a Vacuum. 

Okay, I get it now. Vacuum salespeople. How were we this dumb?

My ex now recognizes what's going on and says "I need to be upfront, I'm not buying anything."

The woman explains that it's okay but wants to show the trainee how to sell a vacuum. 

My ex reiterates and then waits for the moot pitch. 

The woman was mentally reading from the book of Rainbow Vacuums. She gave you word by word pitch and took small breathers to ask inane questions. 

"Would you say dirt on the floor is good or bad?"

Pause.

Pause.

Wait... we're still pausing. 

Oh, these questions require Brittany to respond.

"Umm, bad?"

"Yes! Bad"

Demonstration continues. We watch her get dust out of remotes, carpeted areas, her hand. It's amazing. This vacuum sure does suck!

She asks my ex about her vacuum. I already know how proud she is of her Shark. Oddly she's expressed it to me several times. After slightly mocking her vacuum, she asks my ex to vacuum a piece of carpet 52 times. 

52? 

She counts, then pretends counts, then admits she's no longer counting and gives up. The woman takes the Rainbow and vacuums the same spot. She reveals sand left behind. We're slightly impressed. 

"What you say having this sand in your carpeting is good or bad?"

Pause

"Bad?"

"Exactly!"

The woman occasionally is asking my opinion on the demonstration until she releases that I'm too busy texting her at that moment making fun of the entire situation. The woman gives up on me. At this point I'm listening but looking at emails on my phone. 

And by emails I mean I'm playing Clash of the Clans.

Suddenly I hear something that completely gets my attention.

"A child crawling on a floor is in comparison to smoking 4 cigarettes a day."

I cough "What?"

She looks at me in defense. "No, this is true. Ask the CDC."

My ex responds in jest. "I mean, maybe 2 cigarettes."

The woman sees no humor in this. I express I think that's a little overboard. I laugh at the ridiculousness and bury my face back in my phone. 

An hour in, 15 ridiculous "yes or no" questions later, she pitch ends. She asks her which free gift she'd like. My ex says the extra brush would be nice. The woman starts filling out paperwork. 

"Great, how would you like to pay for this?"

My crazy ex now is a little angry. She already expressed she won't be purchasing a $3500 dollar vacuum today. Someone is going to go to timeout for not listening. She explains again that she's a single mom on a limited income. She loves the vacuum but just can't afford it at the time.

The woman now starts asking questions such as "how much was your vacuum?", "how much do you spend on carpeting cleaning each year?", "air fresheners?" and so on. She gets out a calculator and plays with some math.

"Here's how much money you spend every year. You're losing money not getting this vacuum." Then asks her to sign the paper the same way a police office tells you to sign a ticket. With a giant look of disappointment.

Then perhaps my favorite moment happens. Which out explanation the woman grabs her cellphone and starts dialing. How odd of her to make a phone call right here and now. She waits for a second and begins to speak.

"Hello Mr Johnson. I'm here with Brittany (my crazy ex's name) now. I showed her the vacuum, 
I showed her how it works and how much dirt was in her floor. I told her 
about the gift item would received. No Mr. Johnson, she will not be purchasing
the vacuum. No, no, I tried. She will have to lose out on the bonus item."


I was a little in awe of this stage-performance fake phone call. I've seen better acting in school plays. As this was going on I received a text. It was my ex. It read:

"I bet she's not even on the phone"

I did my best to swallow my laughter.

After minutes of finally convincing both sales people that she would not be purchasing the vacuum, including her begging for names, friends, family, enemies she could hit up - the finally brought out the air purifier. The demonstration was given by the man who told Brittany she could just fill it with water and turn it on. Then he almost broke it showing her how to clean it.

Ta-da!

The people walked out her door and stood in her driveway for several minutes. Was it some sort of post-game strategy session?  Scolding each other for not asking enough yes or no questions? Convincing each other not to swallow a bottle of pills tonight?

It took her almost running over their semi-warm bodies to get them to leave.

It possibly was one of the most painful presentations I've ever seen. I went home, and hugged my used, duct-taped vacuum. I love you used vacuum.



1 comments:

I was asked to assist with the giving away of a Jeep from Blue Cross. So I helped with a little video  

I'm Helping Give Away A Jeep


I was asked to assist with the giving away of a Jeep from Blue Cross. So I helped with a little video

 

0 comments:

I won't try to pretend I'm an excellent networker. In fact, I'm pretty piss poor at the whole thing. I hate being used for my...

The Date I Never Knew Was A Date


I won't try to pretend I'm an excellent networker. In fact, I'm pretty piss poor at the whole thing. I hate being used for my connections, it feels slimy. So when I go out of my way to reach out to others for that... I feel even slimier.

But occasionally I try to meet new people with common career interests and see if we can mush our connections up into one giant awesome gooey ball.

A few years ago I had been introduced to a female comic who, as me, was attempting to advance their comedic career. She was close to my age, pretty, single, and best off funny. A funny 6 is automatically an 8. I'm not saying she was a 6, I'm just giving math comparisons. Over the next year or so we remained Facebook friends. Occasionally we'd comment on each other's status updates. I was FB invited to events (which I never attended) and I reached out one time asking her to audition for my short film.

Which she graciously declined.

After a while I sent her an email proclaiming that with our interests, our collection of common friends, and due to us residing in the LA area, we should meet up for a coffee and talk shop. In most part I was looking for funny people to add to my comedy group. She was pretty perfect for that.

She quickly responded with a "Yes" and added that it should be switched to wine. Claiming people don't talk over coffee. Who is going to turn down wine? I'm in. She gave a location, a time, and I was in.

At the time I was "mostly" single. I had just started dating a very nice girl whose place in my life was still TBD. But I definitely wasn't looking to date anyone else. So the fact that I was attracted to my soon-to-be network buddy didn't skew my agenda, other than I was sure not to wear a hat. Inappropriate t-shirt.

I arrived 20 minutes early to discover that our meeting location was an Italian restaurant. And not a cheap one. The bar was small, so I put my name on the list and waited for a table. I sat down... waited.

A few minutes after our designated time she arrived. She looked beautiful, but that could just be an everyday fluke. I mean, I looked amazing... and it was just a Thursdays. We waited a few minutes for a table... sat down and the meeting began.

We talked about each other, our connections, our dreams. I expressed my goals and ideas and how she could be a part of them. She seemed excited. What a great start to the meeting.

During this time we shared a bottle of wine. Not a cheap one at that. Once it was finished, she asked for another... and menus.

Oh... She's hungry?

After a bit she asked what I was eating. I didn't want to be rude. I ordered food and kept talking about "hobby-work".

The conversation then detoured into personal life. My past marriages, my kids, exes, heartache, desires.

I learned she had never been married, no children and most-likely never in love. But looking.

She stopped me mid-conversation to tell me how handsome she found me.

GARSH!

I stumbled a bit but continued my best to talk shop. I even went as far as reading her part of one of my scripts from my phone. No laughter.

I'm losing her.

I'm now figuring out that as she ate her $35 chicken parmesan that my career is not as interesting as I had hoped. My goals are boring and I'm running out of pitches for the next best thing.

She asks "what's next?"

I told her I didn't know. Things just work out.

The check came. We both looked.

And by looked I mean I looked at the check while she looked at the wall. I know that look. That look means "I'm not paying this check"

I paid the $150 plus bill and we walk out together. I learned this location was near her house and she had walked there. I asked if she would like me to walk her back to her house. She declined. I walked to my car feeling a little confused about my $150 meetup and how exactly I was going to use what happened to advance my career. I mean, other than writing about it 3 years later. 

The next day I remembered that I had discussed a few comedy sketches which I wanted her to read. I emailed her and she said she'd be happy to look them over. I wasn't near my laptop so I had to wait a bit to send them. Before I could I get an email I didn't expect.

I got an "I like you... but" email. I received an email claiming I was a nice guy but now what she was looking for in a guy. I was too 'business".

I was too business? Umm, that WAS business.

Wait... unless.

HOLY SHIT I WAS ON A DATE!!!

I realized at that point, the whole night I was on a date and I was all biznezz in her face. I never put on my date face. I didn't use my clever lines, my winning smile, I wasn't even wearing my date pants.

I was officially a shitty date. I was so shitty she didn't even want to try again.

I licked my wounds, I told her thanks for her time, I felt like an ass.

I wasn't sure if telling her I didn't know it was a date made me look more pathetic than just being the guy who only talked about work.

Anyhow, we continued to stay in touch. Occasional emails. Occasional FB comments. Eventually even Instragram friends.

I'll always be the guy who she went on a crappy date with.

And she'll always be the girl which I didn't know I was on the date.




0 comments:

My good limie friend Ben and I made a video showing what the Facebook Movies will look like in the future. You're welcome

The Future of Facebook Movies


My good limie friend Ben and I made a video showing what the Facebook Movies will look like in the future. You're welcome

0 comments:

Band-Aids on his hands. Loosely wrapped around various fingers. Covering the back of his hands. That might be the most vivid memory...

My Father - Robert Lee Doty


Band-Aids on his hands.

Loosely wrapped around various fingers. Covering the back of his hands. That might be the most vivid memory of my father.

Band-Aids were always on his hands.

He was a mechanic. I never took much interest in what he did. Not because I didn’t respect him or the trade. It was just something I never wished to learn. He was always tired. Always dirty. His hands and face always covered with grease. Oil embedded in his nails. Band-Aids always on his hands.

I noted this the last time we were together, or the last time he was lucid. He had been retired over a decade yet his hand, his retired hands, were still cut and bandaged.

He still tinkered, just now for free. Possibly for the enjoyment. I don’t know.

He possibly was the hardest working man I’ve ever known. A trait inherited from him into my younger twin brothers. Both excelling in their blue-collar jobs, maintaining their collection of muscle cars and keeping up with the ever-mounting list of honey-dos required with each of their several acre homes. Their hands mirroring my father’s.

What he lacked in connections with us as children, me made up for as we became adults. He never judged us, betrayed us, lied to us, failed us. His life was ours anyway he could. I knew if I ever needed his help, he’d be there any way he could. No guilt, just help and his giant heart.

His puns were horrible. His jokes told in mass repetition. He loved bad movies. Bacon was in every meal. Thrift stores were gold mines. He was addicted to 10 year old technology as if it was just presented at CES. Each year he seems a little more elderly but with the strength of 10 men. The day he died I’m sure he still could have taken me in a fight.

His laugh was magic. The day we poured his ashes in his favorite lake we emulated it through stories of him which brought us to tears. Tears of laughter which we knew he’d want.

His ashes reside in the lake we grew up visiting. Many of our stories come from that exact spot. It’s his quiet memorial only known to us.

He has no gravestone. No plaque. No jar with his name.

His legacy is only with us, his children who all loved him dearly.

His grandchildren who can pull various stories out of vague memories.

The few great grandchildren who might have the one or two snap shots of him in their heads.

His name was Robert Lee Doty.

He was my father.

Though he passed away several years ago, I love and respect him more every day. I’m half the man he was but I still try to be like him. Not because he wanted me to, because he was my role model.


He didn’t want me to be anything other than me. Because he loved me as well.

2 comments:

For the last two years I've been working on various projects. During this time I've written a good 15 sketches in my head I've d...

And A New Sketch Group Was Born

For the last two years I've been working on various projects. During this time I've written a good 15 sketches in my head I've done nothing with. This is due to my lack of commitment, not talent. I'm actually surround by amazing actors, writers, editors, directors... etc.



So last night I cornered them all into a bar and birthed a new video sketch group.

So it begins


0 comments:

I can safely say that 2013 has been one of the greatest (if not the greatest) years of my life. Career, goals, family, relationships, life. ...

My 5 Biggest Disappointments of 2013

I can safely say that 2013 has been one of the greatest (if not the greatest) years of my life. Career, goals, family, relationships, life. In 2013 I've slowly become a real person again. I am very excited to see where 2014 takes me. But with all the goodness, there were still chunks of 2013 that left me unfulfilled, disappointed, just fucking angry.

What are the things that completely let me down in 2013? It's very possible they let you down at well. Here are my 5 biggest disappointments of 2013


5. Vine

Being a filmmaker I was very excited at another medium for posting useless digital media. Easy to live-edit, control, post, share. What a great tool in the social media world. But it was like that half-finished kitchen project your Dad started and moved on. Almost as if they lost interest half way through completion.  Part one of their failure was a dribbling release. I can't believe how many people I had to personally introduce to it. Show them how to use it and help with post their first Vine. Then watching them quickly discover they had no other Vine friends to share it with. That is the second part of their failure, the lack of Facebook engagement. The inability to incorporate it will all your Facebook friends. They made it Twitter exclusive. Who actually follows their friends on Twitter? I can count on 2 hands how many friends I have that fully utilize Twitter, but even my tech-tarded Mother has a Facebook account. They put Baby in the corner and never let it out. That, combined with some technical issues, turned me from a daily Viner to recently deleting the app from my phone. You have let me down Vine, you failed me.


4. Google

I used to be the biggest advocate for Google. Between Gmail and Maps, and especially the search engine. Googletastic! But when you have a Zillion Dollars, why not try to make it 2 Zillion. How do you do this? By forcing all your users to use your unsuccessful, crappy products. No, I'm not talking about the ever-failing Android OS. That would have been a 2012 rant. Now I'm talking about something I should have been talking about in a 2005 rant... YouTube. But it's not so much using YouTube, it's that I pretty much can no longer use it. No more comments, due to having to have a Google+ account, and no longer able to quickly watch videos at work due to 30 second long ads on a 15 second video. Google, you're about to kill YouTube. Mark my words Google... killing it.


3. No New Curb

Yes, I'm allowed to complain about this. Unless I've missed it, Larry David never said the last season would actually be the last. Yet every time we think it is... another season pops up. 2013 gave us no new Curb your Enthusiasm. And for this, I'm annoyed.


2. Apple Navigation

This is actually going to be its own post about my Navigation failures of 2013 due to Apple. I recently drove all around New York by the hand of Steve Jobs and ended up in places forsaken by man over 100,000 years ago. There is far too much ranting to include in this list. So I'm already calling my next blogpost "Apple Nav I Hope You Die In A Fiery Hell".


1. Arrested Development

This is still almost too painful to talk about. But I'll do it. I am not sure if I want to add up the hours I've spent watching reruns of Arrested Development. Quoting, laughing, sharing, loving. It's easily one of my favorite shows. Flawless, perfectly cast, hilarious.

Name two better shows than the West Wing or Arrested Development on Television in the 00's.

So when I heard they were making a 4th season for Netflix, I was giddy as a school girl. I followed internet updates, watch previews, scoured for pics. I looked at the calendar as if I was waiting for Christmas. I remember the morning they were released. I had one thing scheduled for that day... watching every episode until I was done, then possibly watch them again.

First episode, a little weak. Didn't have the same feel but they were rusty, getting back in the swing. I watched the next. I had to think if I had laughed or not. I couldn't remember. Finally by the 4 episode I noticed my warm and fuzzies had turned to angry and confusion. What were they passing off as AD to the public. This wasn't our show... this was shit.

I turned to social media immediately and saw others with the same confusion. No one loving it, everyone questioning it. I did it, it took a few days, but I did it. I watched them all.

And after the last scene of the final episode I left out a boisterous "What the fuck?" I wondered if I was missing an episode, a scene. Did I not watch it in order? Is this how it ends? Where am I? What planet is this? Where are my pants?

I just got finger fucked by the Bluth family.

So all I can do now is block it out. Keep telling myself there are only 3 seasons of AD. Only 3. The 4th was a dream, like when JR was shot. It never happened. Ever.

So that's my list, no political rants, nothing about Justin Bieber, Miley Cyrus or Duck Dynasty. Just the things that touched me the wrong way in 2013. They touched me where my bathing suit covers.

The bad touch.





0 comments: