My Favorite Albums Of 2008

I love music.  I loooooooove music.  And every year I like to share my opinion as to which albums really took my eardrums for a romp over the previous twelve months. I listened and purchased a lot.  I think almost a grand worth of new discs.  Now, as much music as I got my hands on, there is so much more I sadly let slip by.  Still need the new Bronx, I heard The Mars Volta’s “Bedlam In Goliath” is killer, and how do I still not have Bayside’s newest edition.  Anyway, in no specific order, here is my list:

Atmosphere – “When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold”

Flobots – “Fight With Tools”

Phantom Planet – “Raise The Dead”

United Nations – “United Nations”

Portugal. The Man – “Censored Colors”

Good Old War – “Only Way To Be Alone”

The Sound Of Animals Fighting – “The Ocean And The Sun”

She And Him – “Volume One”

The other tradition I have is to choose my favorite album of the year.  I sit down and listen to each album from start to finish.  After careful deliberation I decide which piece of aural beauty took complete control of my emotions. 

My gut reaction was to go with “Raise The Dead” because after my initial listen earlier this year, my first thought was, “This is the best album I’ve heard in a long time.  It’s already my choice for best album.  It’s simply amazing.” (Or something to that effect, it was probably a little more blue collar than that.) But, I decided to play fair and I listened to each album again from start to finish.  This year I had to listen to each twice. 

I had it narrowed down to four, but it doesn’t seem fair to toss out half of the honorees if they really aren’t “less great” than the rest.  And after a very careful deliberation and a strong mental battle of the bands, I deduced I couldn’t choose one above the rest.

This year I am concluding my search for my favorite album in this way:  THEY ARE ALL EQUALLY AMAZING ALBUMS. 

Go take a listen to all; I hope you discover every bit of enjoyment as I do. 

Just take me back to warmer times, where I know everybody needs me…

All Will Be Fine In '09

I did pretty well in 2008 with my New Year’s resolution.  Actually, I’m damn proud of myself.  I made it my priority to eat healthier and get back into some semblance of good shape.  I lost thirty-five pounds and have been eating a lot better.  That was pretty much the long and short of my entire resolution, for me it was a big deal, and pretty difficult: cutting out a lot of food I enjoyed, and having to bust my ass with workouts every free moment I had. 

This year I am going to add a few more things to my repertoire.  I think I can handle the pressure.

1) Get my diet back into gear.

Since going back to Parental Control, my workouts have suffered a bit.  Up until September, I was working out a good five to six times a week.  That has slipped to only around four, and a very sporadic four, like four days straight, then three days off.  It’s bad.  So first resolution this year is to get back to where I was a few months ago and lose the ten pounds I put back on, and get back to a solid work out routine.

2) Record a song/EP.

Over the last year, I’ve made some great friends who are extremely musically inclined.  I consider myself to be a very creative person, and I love to write, so why not challenge myself to write in a new medium.  I’ve also loved performing; more-so just love being the center of attention.  The critic will hopefully put something out in the world to be critiqued.  Kinda like The Kinky Wizards.

3) Keep in touch with friends more.

This is something I’ve really bad at.  I am not good at keeping in touch.  My great friend Jacob from home had his first kid back in September, and the first time we talked about it was over Xmas.  He was too busy to hang out (b/c of his kid, and his wife Courtney was tired) which is a bummer because I only get to see him once a year.  We both agreed to do a better job at keeping in touch.  I am going to try to keep in touch with a couple more of my friends from home.  Even though I am outta sight, it doesn’t mean I should stay out of mind until I make my way back to the East Coast. 

4)  Ask Zooey Deschanel out on a date.

Don’t worry.  I have a plan.

I think I have a good strategy for the new year.  Some personal growth, healthier living, and a sparking of new creative outlets.  And hopefully a hot date. 

Happy New Year everybody. 

I am just sitting on the shelf…

 

 

Get Off My Lawn! (Goddamn Kids)

Many of you already know this.  I have no desire to have kids.  None.  Don’t like ‘em.  Nothing against them, I’m sure your kids are great, just have no desire to have my own. 

My good friend from home, Jacob, and his wife Courtney have a four month old named Noah.  My cousin Melissa, with a little help from her husband Jake, recently squirted out their own spawn named Sawyer (if he becomes friends with a Huck, I’d keep a close eye on those little fuckers).  I offer them both my deepest congratulations and the best of luck.  In the great words of Jacob’s father, “Once you have kids, you’re life is over.”  Some dad. (Just kidding. Mr. D is awesome.)

From my side of the wall though, I don’t honestly see what the big deal is.  I mean, I guess it’s great to have your own kids, but I don’t see why people are so amazed when two people make a kid.  Honestly, I think it takes a lot more effort, and is a lot harder, to NOT make a kid.  I mean, shit, give me a chance and I bet I could get a woman pregnant real quick.  Not that I want to; farthest thing from it.

IF if if if if if, I ever decide to have a child of my own, I want to adopt.  I feel the time honored tradition of passing on ones genes and “the family name” are over.  The idea of family in this day and age, with same sex couples and raising children from third-world countries, is so different, the old ways are outdated and unnecessary.  It’s way more important to love the person you are raising.  “Wait until you have kids of your own.  It’ll be different.”  Well, what if it’s not.  What if I meet someone, have a kid, and I can’t stand the little bastard and end up hating this little piece of person.  And now I’m stuck with him/her. 

On the radio the other day, Heidi from the wildly popular afternoon talk radio show on 97.1 Frostly, Heidi, and Frank made this analogy (bear with me, I don’t remember it exactly):

I have two cats.  I love them both equally.  Now the first cat, which I bought at the pet store, likes me, but is a little anti- social, not only with people who come to visit, but also with me.  Her owner.  My second cat, I adopted.  When I went to the shelter to pick her out, she peeked at me through the cage, mewed at me, and reached her little paw thru the cage trying her damndest to get to me.  I brought her home and she shows me everyday how appreciative she is that I rescued her.  Not that my other cat doesn’t do this, but the one I saved from the shelter I think knows what I did, and she knows that because I picked her out, I really wanted that cat. 

~~~~~~

I think adopting a child is like that.  It’s great to have a kid of your own, but if you adopt a kid, you have to go thru years of background checks and really work to adopt.  You have to prove you are capable of taking care of it.  You go thru a lot and you know you want that child more than anything.  And I think that kid will love you way more knowing you took a chance by bringing them into your home to love.  They know you wanted them and that makes a huge difference.

To solidify that response, a few days after that, I overheard the craziest conversation.  I was scouting a dance studio for Parental Control.  A beginner ballet class let out.  One of the students, a girl who was probably around six years of age, was having a conversation with another member of the class about her parents.  The timing couldn’t have been more perfect, because when my ears perked up, I heard the first little girl say,

My birth parents didn’t love me.  They had me and gave me up.  I lived in an orphanage until I was five, then these other people adopted me: my real parents.  And they love me a whole lot.  They really love me.  My birth parents just had me and gave me up.

Wow. Her birth parents, as she called them, obviously didn’t care for her, or weren’t ready to be parents, or whatever the reason.  And here’s this six year-old-girl who was intelligent enough to realize her “real” parents wanted her and loved her more than anything.  That really struck me.  And it confirmed my decision to adopt kids instead of having my own. 

Again, I don’t want kids.  But if for some reason if my idea about that changes, I think I want to be at a point where I really want to have a son or daughter, and I really want this kid to know I tried my hardest and worked my ass off to be their father.

Just because I’ve gone away, doesn’t mean I’ll be gone forever… 

This Is Your Life

It sometimes still boggles my mind. 

I am returning to Philly this weekend for the holidays, and I will be grabbing drinks with my college buddies Saturday night.  I will be hanging out with a teacher, a state working, an investment banker, and an accountant. My cousin Melissa’s first kid was born last week.  People I know are engaged, married, and starting families. 

And then there’s me.  From those people, I have chosen an inherently different path.  I take weekend trips to New York City simply to celebrate a birthday.  I go clothes shopping with a semi-famous musician.  I will be spending a Sunday night getting drunk with a few of my best friends in a small Eastern Pennsylvania town that’s known for the hi-jinks which happen there on a daily basis. 

It’s pretty amazing.

I had only one dream from the moment I entered high school: to work in the film industry.  I sidestepped that a bit and got into reality TV, but close enough.  I lived that dream before I graduated college.  Everything from there on out was, and still is, a bonus.  I have met people I thought were unapproachable, I go drinking with people who are from all over the world, I have to opportunity to wear cut-off jeans to work everyday and it’s acceptable.  I get shit from people in my office if I decide to wear sneakers instead of flip-flops to the office. 

My weekend:

I hit up a happy hour with a friend from Santa Cruz who's cousin grew up best friends with my roommate.  In the past, I would have looked thru my small town beer goggles  and tell you that such a connection was impossible.

I hung out with two very RAD females, a pro-surfer, the DJ from House Of Pain, and a short, chubby comedian, and together we pull a prank involving the destruction of a $5000 “tobacco waterpipe” on Melrose Ave., well, that’s bullshit.  I get paid for this? Come on.

Dirty Penny stayed in my apartment.  A throwback hair band who are totally legit, and amazing musicians, and great friends spent two days at my place.  We drank until 3:00 AM Thursday.  I got to see them play at the legendary Whiskey A Go-Go on Hollywood Blvd. Friday.  I got put on the guest list to see Dirty Penny at the Whiskey A Go-Go.  We partied like rock stars until 7:00 AM, slept for five hours, got up and continued drinking. 

My life is pretty awesome. All friends alike.  I just mention the above situations with larger than life accomplices because they are larger than life.  But don’t get me wrong.  My “normal” friends are pretty epic too.  Both industry and college alike.

I don’t know where I’m going with this.  Just had a great weekend.  That’s all.  

Can you hear me scream (SCREAM)… Can you hear me shout (SHOUT)…

It's The First Time I Got A Man For My Birthday

Johnny kept asking all weekend, “Is it gay to say my best birthday present ever is a dude?”  I must have heard it at least thirty times; which is oddly appropriate because this past weekend, my roommate, Johnny Martini, celebrated his 30^th birthday in Brooklyn, New York.  And, thanks to his amazing girlfriend Bruno, I was able to be there to help him celebrate.

The week before Thanksgiving, we (and by we, I mean Parental Control) did our Vignette shoot at Bruno’s apartment.  After we were done, she asked me if I was planning on going to New York for Johnny’s birthday.  I told her sadly, I couldn’t afford a flight, especially since I was flying home two weeks later for Xmas.  To which she replied, “Well, what if I paid for you to go?”  Well shit.  Bruno informed me she had enough airlines miles saved up, she could fly, herself, Roger, and me to NYC for Johnny’s bash for free.  It would Johnny’s present to have Roger and I be there to spend his birthday with him. 

In the end, Roger didn’t go because he simply did not have the money to go out in New York; it’s a little pricey.  Johnny told Bruno not to go because she would have to miss two days of work and he would be home a week later, so she should save money and make money.  So I made the trip alone. 

I had to work all day Friday; we were shooting a Reveal Day on PC.  We wrapped around eight, I grabbed the shot tapes, and headed for MTV.  I made it home in enough time to grab a shower and chill for about two hours before Bruno picked me up for the airport.  We departed The Hotel around 10:30.  My flight was at 11:55 PM.  Late.  Good old red eye. 

I arrived just in time to get thru security and board the plane.  I missed hearing my section being called to board the plane, not because I was late, but because I was in the middle of a chapter of the book Angler I was reading.  I went and asked the man behind the counter if he called my seat to be boarded and like a dick with a horrible accent, he says, “Ugh, yes.  Get on the plane. Geez.”  Thanks dick.  Way to make me want to fly your airline (American) again.  Dick.

I took some sleeping pills knowing full well this five hour flight might be the only sleep I would get before getting snoggered Saturday night.  Well, unfortunately, the plane got delayed for like a half hour, so my groggy ass was too tired to read, and too uncomfortable to sleep due to an upright seat.  To top it off, some jit-bag British actor from Orange County kept talking to anyone who would listen about his acting troop, and where they performed, and discussed the evolution of his beer palette, and how he likes cold beer now even though he was raised in Ireland on warm beer.  Who gives a rat’s ass?! It’s 12:15 AM, I got a big day ahead of me. I need to sleep.  The bastard couldn’t even wait to get into the air to get an alcoholic beverage.  He got out of his seat and bothered the airline staff until he got a free beer, then showed it off to everyone like he was twelve, bragging to his friends, “Look what I snagged from the Old Man’s liquor cabinet.” 

Once in the air I slept the whole time.  Thank god.  I woke up the next morning at 8:30 as the plane was descending onto the cold JFK airport runway below.  My adventure was poised to begin.  I made my way to the AirTrain per directions from Bruno.  This little train transports it’s passengers from any terminal to the subway lines.  After a quick fifteen minute jaunt, I stood on a platform waiting for the A-train member of the New York Metro Subway system.  From the A, I transferred to L-train to make my way to Brooklyn to Dooner’s place, where Johnny is staying.  This was the first time I rode on the NY subway, and I must say, I know I only took three trains total, but the subway was a lot easier than I expected.

At 10:15 AM I reached the point of no return at Graham Ave. in Brooklyn, a mere ten minute walk to my final destination.  My palms were sweating in anticipation as I Google mapped my route via my iPhone.  Soon, I found myself around the corner, sniping Dooner’s front door from behind a brick apartment building.  I called Bruno to let her know I was there.  Bruno told Johnny the previous day he would be receiving a birthday care package the following morning around ten.  He thought he was getting cupcakes; boy, he was way off.  The plan was as follows: Bruno would now call Johnny to say his delivery was there, he would walk downstairs, and viola I would be there, pink bow on my head, and birthday card in hand.  Simple.  Well, Johnny decided to leave him phone on silent, so he never received her call.  Apparently (luckily), he got bored waiting for the “delivery man” and walked downstairs to take his laundry to the cleaners.  So even though he never received the call, he still hit his mark. 

I expected a rampage when he opened the door.  Instead I got a barely audible, “What the fuck?  How the… Wait… What are you doing here?  I can’t believe you’re here.”  A girl followed him down the stairs, witnessed this all go down, and from Johnny’s delivery, she probably assumed two long-lost gay lovers were reunited and she would have to listen to their love making all day thru the thin walls of her apartment.  Johnny read Bruno’s card and began to realize I was his birthday present from his girlfriend to which he first stated, “I got a man for my birthday.  This is the first time I got a dude for my birthday.  This might be my greatest birthday present ever.  Is that gay?”  Maybe a little, buddy. 

After a quick reunion on the ground floor, we headed to floor three to the apartment where Johnny said Dooner was still asleep and I needed to fuck with him.  Camera rolling, I tip-toed over to Doon-dog’s bed and right as I was about to spring into action, he used his Spidey sense to realize there was danger brewing, he rolled over, looked at me, and said, “I knew you assholes would be here.”  He eventually got out of bed and the three of us repeated the “dude-what-are-you-doing-in-Brooklyn-I-can’t-believe-you’re-here” scenario before snapping a few photos, calling Bruno to tell her how shit went down, and then headed out for brunch at a nice little bar called Harefield Road. 

Brunch supplied nothing more than a discussion of the previous events, the planning of it, the strategy for the evening, and a quaint discussion with the bartender about how I could get my will tattooed on my ass in fine print, making my last “screw you” to everyone involved being hunched over my ass with a magnifying glass reading my last wishes. 

The rest of the afternoon consisted of a short two hour nap, meeting up with Johnny’s hometown buddy Juice (K-C what!), and taking a short trip to Penn Station to pick up Joanna Korman, who was excited to see everyone.  Our showers became an exercise in aversion when Juice dumped oatmeal on Johnny, Johnny dumped ice water on me – twice, and I gave Dooner a nice little fruit basket which he tried to top with shaving cream.  I “accidentally” grabbed his face towel to clean up.  Although, he got me last, I had the last word because after I left, Dooner used the same towel I used to clean my ass to wipe off his face.  Gotcha bitch!

Dinner was a chore.  Five people trying to figure out a place to go in New York City proved to be a lot harder than we expected.  We were like teenage girls sitting around twirling our hair continually asking, “What do you want to do? I don’t know. What do you want to do?”  After a few nicely placed phone calls, Johnny, Dooner, Juice, Joanna, and I settled on and made reservations at a little Peruvian restaurant called Pampa for dinner.  It was a good thing we made those reservations too because when we got there the whole place was empty save for the forty wait-staff members running amuck.  Seriously, the place couldn’t have been much bigger than Dooner’s apartment, but it seems like there was a whole army of help there to serve the fifteen tables present.  Waiters aside, the food was pretty good and not horribly priced.  I enjoyed my meal and filled up pretty quickly.

As an added little bonus, it began to snow.  Very lightly, but was the first snowfall in the city and it made a nice little addition to the whole mood of the evening.  We continued our trek down to the subway where we caught the L-train, traveled a few stops, and made our way to Williamsburg to an amazing indoor beer garden named Radegast Hall & Biergarten.  I believe the smallest beer you could order was like thirty-four ounces or something retarded like that.  Dooner told me any beer I order would be worth while.  I ordered some Dunkel something-or-other and made the very wrong assumption each beer came in similar sized mugs.  Nopers.  The bartender slugs over a mug that’s gotta be at least fifty-five ounces.  I mean Christ, the thing weighed thirty-five pounds and I needed two hands to hold the thing in fear if I tried to muscle it with one hand my wrist would break and I would be out one gi-normous brew. 

I surprised everyone there as well and did it as creatively as I could think of.  I walked up to Joe Child,I brought him his mail, turned around and walked out.  Joe DeVito was with him, so he just yelled at me and asked what asshole let me into his city, or some bullshit. Haha.  Josh Richards walked in and sauntered the wrong way away from our section, so I walked up to him, put my arm around his shoulder, and escorted him to where we were sitting.  He took three steps, stopped, and looked at me like, “What the fuck?!” and planted a huge kiss on me.  Nice.  Mike C. had the best reaction.  I was coming back from the bathroom and walked by saying, “Hey man, good to see you.”  He looks at me, does this head shake triple take, spread his arms and bellows, “What the fuck are you doing in this state!?!”  I got the physical reaction I expected, but the statement was hysterical.  Do I really spend that much time in Venice?

It was an amazing night.  We drank until 4:00 AM (because bars are open much later in NY).  Dooner and Josh postulated during the course of events that bar goers have about a seven minute window between 2:00 and 2:07 AM to decide to call it a night.  If you don’t leave then, you’re in for the long haul.  You don’t decide at 3:30 you’re going to call it night, at that point you wait out last call in hopes you leave the bar with as many clothes as possible and without urinating all over yourself after trying to take a leak as you wobble around like a tower of jell-o. 

We made it back to Dooner’s via a ten dollar car service where I entertained everyone in the back seat with my discussion of all the world’s events with the driver. 

The next morning we all awoke extremely hung-over probably because we went to bed at five and woke up at ten.  But it was totally worth it.   We returned to have brunch at Harefield.  Then Johnny escorted Joanna back to Penn Station and I went back to Dooner’s to watch the first half of the Eagles/Giants game. (We killed them.  Where the hell has that been all season?)  At the half, I said my goodbyes, thanked everyone, and hopped a quick subway over to Union Square in Manhattan to meet my cousin Kristin and her boyfriend Danny there to have some coffee and catch up.  We probably haven’t seen each other since our cousin Melissa’s wedding in 2007, so almost two years.  It was great to see her.  After, we took a quick photo in the Square, and I made my final subway ride back down to JFK to catch my flight home. 

Johnny’s 30^th birthday weekend has so many great memories, and hopefully I caught most of them here.  The rest I’m sure will be discussed this weekend over many, many imported beers when Johnny returns home.  I have his girlfriend Bruno to thank for all of it.  She could be the best girlfriend ever.  Possibly. 

But seriously, thank you Bruno, you’re (our) boyfriend loved his present. 

Earlier this year I predicted, “2008 is turning out to be a great year.”  After this past weekend, and everything I wrote and you read, 2008 turned out to be an incredible year.  So little of it is left, but this past weekend couldn’t have been a better way to begin ushering the year on it’s way.

We hold our hopes like cigarettes, then leave them dying in the grass…

It's Never Too Late For A Bad Idea

After constant hounding from my dear, dear friend Lauren, a.k.a. L-Ron, a.k.a. Party Monster (taking that name back), I decided to make my first return trip back to good ol’ Santa Cruz.  I would be joined by one Pascual Murderface, which made for a very nice little vacation.

The drive north only took about five hours from Burbank and we arrived on 41^st Ave. around 9:30 at night.  Once we got into town, we swung by Trader Joe’s to catch Benji off guard who was ecstatic to see us; he said it made his work-day much more tolerable.  We hugged and played grab ass for a few minutes and then got introduced to a new SC friend: a nice little alcoholic beverage known as Simpler Times Beer, only $3.99 for a six-pack.  We then took a little memorial drive through the Cruz towards downtown where L-Ron resides.  After a joyous reunion with L who, other than about five minutes in October, I haven’t seen since August, we began drinking. She has a great little apartment right behind the Quizzno’s. 

Our night involved meeting up with Munchie, who happened to be in town for one night only where we walked over to Ocean Ave. and visited L’s favorite hideaway, The Jury Room.  There, over many two dollar PBRs, we caught up and met a lot of her local friends.  Benji met up with us when he finished work and brought his lovely girlfriend Lindsay out as well.  Munchie drug everyone back to her hotel room, but I decided to head home with L, which turned out to be the better decision b/c every else partied until like five AM.  Shortly before passing out for the night, I was treated to a verbal lashing by L for wearing basketball shorts to sleep.  I think she called me an east coast asshole that liked listening to Hatebreed.  Thus ended Day One.

Day Two began with blunch at the Saturn Café, a vegetarian diner.  Easily one of my favorite places to eat, not only in Santa Cruz, but anywhere.  I got me an extremely delicious faux BBQ chicken sandwich.  After breakfast, we sauntered around downtown for a bit, stopped into this little hippie shop, where I made probably the best impulse buy ever; a book entitled No Regrets: The Best, Worst, & Most #$%*ing Ridiculous Tattoos Ever.  It has some of the worst ideas for tattoos I have ever seen.  So funny though.

After that, we made our way over to Capitola to watch a surfing competition.  We stopped into the Bay Bar for a quick pint where I ran into Crystal, one of the bartenders.  She couldn’t believe I was there.  She did a little double take and greeted me with a nice, “What the hell are you doing here?”  Next, we walked to the end of the beach path to watch the long board competition. As we were walking, to my utter delight, Jenny Useldinger just happened to be in town from Maui surfing in the competition.  She is a really talented surfer, and super cute to boot.  We caught up a bit before she took to the waves.  It was amazing to watch her surf.  Lindsay and her mom were helping to tally up the scores, so we hung out with them for a bit as well.  We walked around Capitola village a bit and L-Ron said she can’t wait to take her parents there when the come to town to visit next. 

Next, we made our way to the tattoo shop.  Apparently, the night before while were at The Jury Room, I told Pascual and Lauren the story about how when we were filming Rad Girls in Santa Cruz this past summer, a few of us decided to get pink hearts tattooed on our middle fingers to remember the trip, but when it came time to getting the work done, the artist went M.I.A.  Pascual said we should do it, and L-Ron said we can’t write a check we can’t cash, so Saturday afternoon, L-Ron’s new man, Paul, hooked us up quick appointments at Kalifa’s Tattoo shop where he works.  We filmed the whole thing and you can check out the video here. CLICK HERE!

For dinner we got Subway, and spent most of the rest of the night watching movies in L’s apartment.  Save for a quick trip across the street to The Catalyst to see Spanky Savage from the killer hair band Dirty Penny.  We stayed in all night.  It was great to see Spanky; we haven’t hung out since last time they were in LA back in early February.  The reunion was short and sweet, but will continue in a few weeks when Dirty Penny headlines The Whiskey in Hollywood on December 12.  YOU ALL BETTER BE THERE!!!

Day three took us down to the Santa Cruz boardwalk after breakfast at the Chill Our Café, another top food spot (breakfast burritos as big as your forearm).  We walked around and snapped a few photos.  The best one was of the three of us standing on the train bridge, which is a famous spot from the movie The Lost Boys.  We took a little driving tour of UC Santa Cruz to see where Lauren is going to school.  The campus is beautiful and overlooks all over SC. I challenge you to find a more serene campus.  Next we made our way back to Capitola and the Bay Bar to partake in my weekly tradition: Sunday Funday.  To my surprise, Crystal was not behind the bar, but instead, my great friend James, who is like my musical equal, ran the taps.  We hit it off super well back when I was filming Rad Girls because we pretty much have matching iPods (and taste in music).  We spent most of the afternoon and early evening just bullshitting and putting back pints to our hearts desire. 

Oh, and some dude tried to kick my ass.  While James and I were discussing new bands we’ve come across for each other to check out, some dude walks right up to me and says to me, “What’s up?”  I looked at him for a good fifteen seconds trying to place him, figuring it was someone I met over the summer.  I ask him what’s up back, and he’s like, “You got a staring problem?” At this point I’m a little confused.  I know the bar is small, but I don’t even remember looking at him once.  Apparently, I was staring at the juke-box which was behind where he was playing pool.  He told me to “take a picture, it’ll last longer.”  Really?! You’re going to get in my face for possibly staring at you and then using the most clichéd lines to intimidate me?  What a tool.  James yelled at him and made him to apologize to me. It was great.

After closing our tab at the Bay Bar, James and I made plans to meet up later that night to catch up more.  I dropped L and Pascual off at The Jury Room, and I went back and took a little nap knowing full well that if I went with them, I never would have made it all night.  I watched a little Rocky III before picking the two of them up and bringing them back to the Batcave.  Pascual managed to pass out on the couch for the rest of the night, only awakening to give us money for pizza. 

After dinner, we slapped a note on Pascual and L and I headed to meet James and Benji over at Castaways for a few last-night-in-town beers.  It was a nice little wrap up to a perfect weekend.  The only bummer was not seeing Jenny U. the rest of the trip.  We tried to meet up, but we kept missing each other. 

I couldn’t have asked for a better bit of relaxation.  I love going into that town; a calm seems to always roll over me.  Such a great attitude and feeling hit when I am cruising down Route 152 over the mountains, hitting the home stretch into town.  I can’t explain it, and you can’t know it unless you go there yourself.  So take a break and make a trip, it’s totally worth it.

It never quite feels the same…

A Really RAD Premiere

I’ve always been proud of what I do for a living.  Even when I’m on a job I hate (fucking Mobile Home Bitch-Slap), I know I could be stuck behind a desk typing numbers into a spreadsheet for a living, waiting for the perfect moment to go postal on my boss when he asks me to work on Saturday for free.  I’ve worked on some pretty great shows.  If it wasn’t for Viva la Bam I wouldn’t have made the life-long friends I have now.  Viva was more than a job, it was an era, which changed and directed my life in an amazing direction.  Punk’d transitioned me into Los Angeles and kept me afloat while people I knew couldn’t make it in this tough city. 

Last night though, I experienced the culmination and start of one of the proudest projects I’ve ever had the opportunity to work on.  At 9:30 PM, Benji, Chris S., J-mar, Pascual Murderface, Ramona Cash, Munchie, Darling Clementine, Michelle, and myself, along with four hundred of our closest friends and family from all over the country waited impatiently at the gate of Cinespace on Hollywood Blvd. for the premiere of Season 2 of RAD GIRLS. 

It was truly and honestly a night to remember.  Everyone dressed to impress, even me. (Thank Benji’s girlfriend, Lindsay.  She made me put on pants, a nice shirt, and a tie).  There was an open bar all night and the booze flowed like water from a Roman servant’s clay pot. 

Inside the screening room, we had our own little reserved section for cast and crew.  We were definitely playing the roll of celebrities on this windy Sunday night.

I remember watching people anxiously crowding into the screening room as I stood there with Chris, getting each other pumped up for what was to be unleashed upon the audience. To open, J-mar and the head of MavTV Rob Stevens gave a little speech acknowledging each one of us individually.  And then the fun began.  The crowd’s response was perfect.  It was one autonomous cringe, laugh, and groan at all the right parts.  Listening to the crowd go insane for what they watched gave me such a sense of pride and accomplishment for what our little group did.  I mean, we lived everything up there.  It wasn’t a well oiled machine with filming permits and grueling daily schedules, but at the same time, there were days so physically and mentally grueling, your body would collapse at night from exhaustion.  Watching Ramona boxing thirteen-year-old Matthew Vasquez, Clementine trying to wake surf behind the Shaun and Jennie Moss’s boat in Jacksonville, Florida while squid get thrown at her, all three of the Girl running around the country in burkah’s, and Munchie drinking her freshly excreted urine got the most amazing and perfect responses.  (I know, weird to get a puffed chest over, but it was brilliant.) 

After the viewing, our crew (and subsequently the crowd) lost their minds in cheers.  Our little reserved section proceeded to pile-on each other like we were in Little League and we just won the big game.  I went and found all my friends who came with me to see what they thought.  Their reactions were all pretty consistent: all loved it and were super grateful I invited them along to share such an important night.  I spent the rest of the night working the room and getting wasted.  So many people came up to me and offered their congratulations and support, I felt like I was on course to win an Oscar. 

It really was a staggeringly proud night for me.  I can’t say it enough.  Other than the episodes still needing to air, Season 2 of RAD GIRLS I think almost officially comes to a close.  But as we all know, the beast that is RAD GIRLS never really ends.  We’re always kinda working on it; coming up with gnarlier ideas or snapping a gross/sexy clip of the Girls in public.  RAD GIRLS isn’t so much a TV show for those involved, it’s a life all it’s own, and every chance we have to depart from the normal everyday rigmarole, we’re all ready to live all that is RAD.

Here we go… Think about the promises that kept you walking wandering in time…