Friday, June 30, 2006
Thursday, June 29, 2006
The lei was wet for the next thirty minutes or so. It really knows how to retain water. Other than my shower experience, though, keeping the lei around my neck hasn't proven to be very difficult. I've been to Starbucks for breakfast, a diner for lunch, and then I went to an afternoon movie (An Inconvenient Truth, which I'll talk more about later, but you should go see it if you haven't) and I keep waiting for someone to be like, "what's with the oink lei?" (actually, I wait for them to say "what's with the pink lei," but sometimes typos are freaking brilliant) and even though I've had many conversations with strangers, no one has asked the million dollar question.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
To recap last week’s episode: Wes was an asshole again, to infinity.
We open with more of Wes being an asshole and he’s going on and on about how it’s obvious that the challenge has come between him and Johanna in their relationship. Yeah, right, it’s the reality show that’s come between them, not Wes’ big mouth. That’s right. Yeah, sure. Good one, Wes. (Fun, he just called his girlfriend “the most spiteful person he knows.” Don’t you love young love?) If Johanna doesn’t kick his lame lily-white ass to the curb in tonight’s episode, she’s a freaking idiot. Seriously. Johanna, please—if you self-google yourself and find this blog entry, I am begging you: leave the bastard.
So now that the whole requisite in-case-you-forgot-Wes-is-an-asshole recap is done, it’s time for the Fresh Meaters to have some fun. Which means it’s time for a costume party. Which means we’re about to see Tanya dressed as a slut and we’re about to see all of the other women dressed as Tanya.
Okay, the costume party sequence was so quick I barely even got to see what half of the Fresh Meaters were wearing and now I have to rewind and do some pausing. It looks like Diem is dressed as a slutty mermaid with an eye condition. The next person we see getting into costume is a blonde woman putting on mascara who for the life of me I cannot recognize. (More proof that I had a stroke in my sleep, perhaps?) (Because I’ve seen enough episodes of Fresh Meat by now that you would think I would know everyone’s names by now.) (Though there’s always at least one person on these reality shows who lays low for several weeks and then all of a sudden starts talking out of necessity—because there ain’t no one else around—and then you’re like, “who the hell is that?”) (So maybe this blonde girl with the mascara is the silent type.) (WAIT—holy crap—I think it’s Casey, aka Wes’ partner, aka [in Wes’ words] “the most miserable, terrible, unathletic person ever,” or whatever he called her [that wasn’t an exact quote, but I’m sure it’s close] and now I feel bad for not recognizing her in the first place because girl deserves props for having to put up with the Devil’s assholyness every week.) (That’s right, I just called Wes “the Devil.”) (It’s because I’m tired of typing his name and I’m tired of him dominating this show with his assholyness, and I’m tired of people googling his name and finding my blog and I’m just plain done with him.) (His name will never again be uttered on my blog.) (From here on out, he will be referred to as “the Devil.”) (Okay?) Next we see supposedly-closeted (according to Shane) (and I can’t believe I’m sitting here spreading gossip I’ve heard Shane talking about on “Overdrive,” the aftershow they air on mtv.com) Jesse dressed as Tinkerbell. True story. (True story!) And Tinkerjesse is standing with Johnny, who is dressed as either Conan the Barbarian or a Half-Naked Man With Muscles. I can’t tell which. We then cut to a quick shot of Tanya trying to seduce Jesse and it looks like she has lipstick smeared all over her face and I think she’s already made out with at least five of the men in the house. Then we see an amazing shot of Johanna dressed as Drunk Tinfoil and Evan dressed as the Devil (not dressed as “the Devil,” but as the actual devil) and then standing behind them is Darrell as Tupac except I think it might actually be Tupac. I can’t tell what Chanda is supposed to be—she has a black cape on—maybe she’s a vampire? Theo is dressed as a naked bunny. Sorry, a naked DRUNK bunny. At the end of this very quick costume party montage, we see several shots of Tanya in her red lingerie getting wasted, doing shots, letting other people do shot off of her body, and then there’s this really puzzling image of Tanya with what looks like an egg yoke in a seashell perched on top of her bosom and I honestly have no idea what that thing is supposed to be but I’m getting the distinct impression that she’s waiting for someone to drink it and I’m afraid. I’m very afraid.
Tanya’s partner Johnnie just said that he’s afraid Tanya is starting to unravel and I’m like “starting?”
Next we get a scene between Johanna and Evan and I’ve gotten a better look at her costume and I think she’s supposed to be a Drunk Tinfoil Pilgrim. With low self-esteem. Because she’s decided to go apologize to the Devil for how much of an asshole he’s been to her. Come on, Johanna! I’m glad that you’re telling him that he’s hurtful and expressing your feelings and all, BUT DUMP HIS ASS. And then Johanna’s like, “if he hurts me again, there won’t be a second chance,” and I’m like, “Johanna, Johanna, Johanna—you’ve already given this dude, like, 10 second chances in the last four episodes of this show. How many second chances are you not going to give him before you finally stop giving him second chances?”
And then, the next morning, the two of them are all giggly and in love again and I’m really mad at the Devil for giving Mohawks a bad name. Because Mohawks used to be so fucking cool.
I want to go to Australia. That was a completely random comment and it has no bearing on the contents of this post.
Okay, it’s challenge time. Which means it’s time for everyone to squeeze into really tight speedos and cover their bodies with oatmeal and then try to keep as much oatmeal on their bodies while running across a field and then dumping their body oatmeal into a bucket and then running back to the other side of the field and getting more oatmeal. As TJ explains the rules, we see a shot of Casey (the devil’s partner) looking so sad and down and defeated and I feel so bad for her and I wish there was a way that she could switch partners or something.
Commercial break. My pink lei is starting to itch and it’s only been eight hours. But I’ve never been leid so long before and I figure I’ll be able to get through the itching phase and come out the other side a stronger man.
Back to Fresh Meat: covering your body with oatmeal and running with it really is kind of disgusting. The highlight of this challenge, though, has to be seeing Derrick in a speedo and covered in oatmeal. Despite the disgustingness of the oatmeal. I’m sorry. I’m obsessed.
I can’t tell who’s doing good and who’s doing bad. It’s kind of impossible to tell, the way they’re editing it. Coral just made a joke about how badly she needs to wash oatmeal off of her nipples.
Wow, Coral and Evan got first place. They fucking rock. They’re amazing. They’re powerhouses. Now it’s time for Johanna/Jesse and Casey/the devil to compete against each other in Exile.
I’m sorry, I’ve kind of lost steam, this is some lame live-blogging. I’m just tired of the devil. NOTE TO MTV: too much devil, not enough Derrick!
I was about to say that this is kind of Shakespearean—boyfriend and girlfriend pitted against each other in this final challenge like they are—but it’s not Shakespearean. I just wish that more people would find my blog by searching the word “Shakespearean,” so I thought I would throw the word into this post a couple of times. Ooooo, how sad are those Shakespearean scholars going to be when they come to my blog looking for Shakespeare and they find my rambly musings about Fresh Meat. But before I can continue talking about Fresh Meat being Shakespearean, the devil just called Casey a “stupid bitch” and I seriously want to kill him.
It looked like Johanna and Jesse were going to win the race, but then they made a really dumb mistake and the devil won and finally, FINALLY, Johanna confronted the devil about his assholyness and told him to lay off of Casey: “Do you know the kind of person you seem like when you act like that…?” and then Johanna says that “when he called Casey the b-word, he was getting out of hand” and I don’t understand how someone who says “the b-word” instead of “bitch” could EVER date the devil. It’s so weird.
The episode ends with Casey telling the devil that she hates him and the devil finally apologizes and then Tanya mentions that she’s a timebomb waiting to explode and I’m getting the feeling that MTV is getting ready to pass the crazy torch from Wes (that’s the last time I’m typing his name) over to Tanya.
Honestly, I didn't think this was going to work. Which is why the recording is horrible. All I say in it is "this is a test, thank you," and I can't even get those seven words out properly--I totally had phlegm in my throat and had to clear it. However, I'm going to leave the phlegm clearing first audioblog intact (because I think it's funny that my first, and perhaps only, audioblog is basically just me clearing my throat)
I was hanging out with my aunt and my seven-year-old cousin this morning and they were making fun of my first audioblog and this is my cousin mocking me:
I don't win anything for completing the task. Just the honor of having completed it. It's a dare and I took it and now I'm stuck with this pink, plastic thing around my neck for the next 168 hours, or so. Wish me luck.
I had been resigned to the fact that it looked like my high school class wasn't going to be having a ten year reunion, and then I just found out that we ARE, in fact, going to be having one--in November--and I COULD NOT BE MORE EXCITED.
Seriously. It's like I just found out Santa Clause is real or something.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Oh, and the Fresh Meat blog, that'll come later too.
What doesn't particurlay make me happy is the financial hole that I'm digging myself out of. At least I'm digging myself out of it, but my favorite sushi bar--and my favorite sushi bar chefs and waitpeople--were the unwitting victims of my financial hole last week. Here's what happened: I got paid for a writing gig last week--which was perfect timing, because I was approaching zero in the old bank account--and to celebrate pay day, I went to get some grub at ye old house of sushi (aka Kura Sushi) (aka "why am I calling it "ye old house of sushi?") (aka "erik, get on with the story, what's your freaking point?") and then when I went to pay, I tried to use my ATM card, but I had deposited my check after 6pm and so it hadn't been credited to my account yet and so my ATM card was declined. Fortunately, I had a 20 on me. Unfortunately, the bill was in the amount of $19.77. So I was sort of forced to stiff my waiter, by these dumb circumstances. I felt awful about not leaving a tip.
New Thing #104: I went back to Kura Sushi tonight and I gave them a hundred percent tip on my meal, to make up for last week's slight, and I left the following note: "I was low on cash last week and left a bad tip. It was no reflection on the service. You guys all rock." And I feel a lot better about myself now.
I enjoy a good fortune cookie every now and then. And there’s this book game that I like to play, where you have someone flip through the pages of a book and then you tell them to stop and the sentence that they land on is your fortune. Well, I feel like engaging in some prophesy tonight, but I don’t have anyone here to flip through a book for me, so I’m going to the trusty ipod.
I’m giving myself seven fortunes, right now, via the “shuffle” function. One fortune for every day of the week, starting tomorrow. I’ll come back to this blog post at the end of every day this week and let you know if the song was accurate in its prophecizing. (Is that how you fucking spell “prophecizing?) (Speaking of the word “fucking,” I’m midway through the second season of Deadwood right now and David Milch is a freaking genius. The language on that show—the way the sentences are constructed—it’s some of the most poetic writing I’ve ever heard. It’s amazing. I just sit there dumbfounded.)
Okay, hitting “shuffle”:
6/26/06: Monday’s fortune is…Queer by Garbage (ha, that made me laugh) (i guess tomorrow is going to be a really gay day)
(update: there was SO nothing gay about Monday AT ALL.)
6/27/06: Tuesday’s fortune is…Never Tear Us Apart by INXS (sung as a duet by JD Fortune and Suzy McNeil)
(update: the only thing about Tuesday that I can think this might possibly relate to was that it was the last night of one of my writing groups for the summer--i haven't been to this writing group in several months--and the group is taking the summer off--and I want the group to come back soon?)
6/28/06: Wednesday’s fortune is…Let Me In by REM
(update: these fortunes haven't been all that accurate. maybe they're someone else's fortunes, or maybe my ipod is a fraud.)
6/29/06: Thursday’s fortune is…Love and Some Verses by Iron and Wine
(update: well, through a random confluence of events, i ended up having dinner with my step-dad's daughter Patt, my dad, my dad's wife, and my dad's wife's son, and if that's not a random group to convene for dinner, i don't know what is, but it was a really nice, happy accident, this dinner, and i think that "love and some verses" is an apt song to have predicted it)
6/30/06: Friday’s fortune is…Top of the World by The Carpenters (as covered by Shonen Knife)
(update: is my ipod being ironic? my car died today. i am NOT on top of the world) (except, well, i supposed shonen's cover version of the song is somewhat ironic itself, so maybe it WAS meant as irony, and that's why my ipod gave me the knife version rather than the carpenters version)
7/1/06: Saturday’s fortune is…Afternoon Delight by Starland Vocal Band
(update: on saturday, i went to Superman at noon and then drove to Pismo Beach...i enjoyed the movie [for the most part][i actually could have done without any of the Lex Luther stuff][the Lex Luther stuff was totally pointless IMHO][but I thought Routh was great as Supes][and the airplane saving scene was awesome][oh, and I thought Kate Bosworth was terribly miscast][imagine if Lois Lane had been played by Parker Posey!][now THAT woulda been a Lois Lane I coulda rooted for][I know you're probably thinking "but she's too old," but, um, Margot Kidder was 32 when she made the second Superman movie and 5 years have supposedly past between the second movie and this one and Parker Posey is 38, so she's actually kinda the perfect age to play Lois Lane, whereas Kate Bosworth is 26 and I thought she was way too young, esp. because she looks like she's 14][I felt like I was watching a little girl play dress up][but back to te Parker Posey thing--I know you're probably thinking "but she's too snarky," but Lois Lane is SUPPOSED TO BE SNARKY! She's a snarky reporter! Until Supes inevitably melts her heart, and anyone who has seen Party Girl knows that Parker can do the transition from snark to heart melting][I'm just saying][anyway, despite Lex and Lois not doing it for me, Routh was pretty darn afternoon delightful to make up for everything else][for the most part])
7/2/06: Sunday’s fortune is…Say It Ain’t So by Weezer (as covered by Juliana Hatfield)
(that’s weird, why are there so many cover songs in my Seven Days of Fortune shuffle?) (that’s the worst name—the “Seven Days of Fortune”—it’s really uncatchy) (Say It Ain’t So is still playing on my headphones right now. Great song.)
(update: the Evidence Room closed its doors on Sunday, so I think this song was a pretty accurate song fortune)
Sunday, June 25, 2006
New Things #101-103: various, random, things. (count all of the unnecessary commas!) (at least one!)
Therefore, New Thing #101: I have accepted that my computer is a piece of shit and I’m never going to complain about it ever again. It is what it is. It does what I need it to do. Most of the time. Which is: it lets me type a whole bunch of words and it saves ‘em. And it does that really, really well most of the time. And most of the time is fine. Maybe if I start loving all of these technological gadgets that I’m always hating on because they’re always breaking on me—maybe if I really embrace them—then maybe they’ll embrace me back and they’ll stop breaking. It’s worth a shot.
Wow, okay. So: I love you, technology. And I will continue to love you through thick and thin in the hopes that maybe—just maybe—one of these days, you’ll love me back.
I’ve done several New Things this week, but I haven’t had time to blog about them so I’m going to try to play a little bit of catch up right now.
New Thing #102: I went to an Art Opening. Now, okay, yes, I have been to countless art shows and exhibits and everything, but until last weekend, I had never been to an actual, honest-to-goodness, Art Opening, with wine flowing and random celebrities gawking and gallery owners putting little red stickers next to pieces of art that have just been bought. It was my friend David’s show (okay, actually, a fourth of it was his show) (but it was his show, if you know what I mean) (and if you don’t, well, then I mean that his photos were the shit) (and if you’re not hep to the lingo, when I say that they were “the shit,” I mean that they were really fucking good) (and if you’re sitting there at your computer right now thinking, “is Erik on crack? who doesn’t know what ‘the shit’ means?” well, first of all, I’m not on crack, and second of all, I’m certain that SOMEONE doesn’t know what ‘the shit’ means, and I’m tired right now, so give me a break) (a fourth of the show was Viggo Mortenson’s, and his photos were really striking, but David’s photos were, like I said, “the shit”) and even though I had previously seen all of David’s photos in his book Skip, which is where the photos in the exhibit were from, they were even better in person, mounted, large, both haunting and inviting at the same time, which is a kind of weird combo, but I think it’s a good way to describe them. Part of me wanted to crawl inside the photos and live there, while another part of me was very happy to be standing in an art gallery, sipping on free wine and pretending to ignore Viggo Mortenson to my left and Helen Hunt to my right. Unfortunately, I couldn’t ignore Anya from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I know that her real name is Emma Caulfield—because when I get obsessive about a TV show, I know enough to know everyone’s real names—but I also get obsessive to the point that, even though I intellectually know that she’s Emma Caulfield and she just wants to look at David’s photos in peace—there’s another part of my brain where she is so totally and completely Anya, and I want to go up to her and tell her that I’m really fucking mad at Xander for being all we-just-saved-the-world happy in the last episode of the series instead of (AND MAJOR SPOILER ALERT, IF YOU’RE COMPLETELY BEHIND THE TIMES AND YOU’VE NEVER SEEN BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER, WHICH I KEEP ACCIDENTALLY TYPING AS “BUGGY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER,” WHICH SHOULD TOTALLY BE A SPIN-OFF, BUT I’M DIGRESSING AND IT’S NO GOOD WHEN I DIGRESS IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE I THINK IT STARTS TO HURT READERS’ EYES AND I DON’T WANT TO DO THAT BUT I FORGET WHAT I WAS SAYING, AND, UM, OH RIGHT, IF YOU HAVEN’T GOTTEN ON BOARD THE BUFFY BANDWAGON YET, THEN SERIOUSLY, WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU, AND I’M ABOUT TO SPOIL SOMETHING FROM THE LAST EPISODE AND YOU’VE BEEN SO FULLY WARNED IT’S NOT EVEN FUNNY) being totally devastated, which is what Xander should have been after Anya so abruptly got her head chopped off—which is actually the one thing that I am really mad at Joss Whedon about—because I understand that he was trying to have this moment that was really quick in the last few minutes of the series where one of our favorite characters suddenly gets killed in the middle of battle and it was supposed to be a statement about how shit like that happens in war and you don’t even have time to mourn necessarily because you’re in the middle of it and it’s awful, but how fucking dare you kill my favorite character and then not let the guy who was supposedly in love with her have even one second of being sad about her death? Wow, I totally didn’t mean to go off on this right here, but I am really glad that I didn’t approach Emma Caulfield at David’s opening because I’m sure she wouldn’t have wanted to hear my diatribe. Even though it sums up as “I loved your character! Sucks that she died!” I should probably break this paragraph up into multiple paragraphs right now, but at this point, I think I’ll just leave it. Speaking of fictional characters who I have an unhealthy attachment to, at one point during David’s art opening, my friend Ingrid (not fictional) came up to me and said that Graham Chase (fictional) was inside the gallery. I was like, “no fucking way.” And she was like, “way.” Except we didn’t really actually say that, but I like to think that we did. (And that reminds me of my favorite moment from the third season premiere of The 4400—there’s this moment when the NTAC agents, Tom and Diana, are talking about this potential terrorist who they’re trying to track down and while they’re talking about him, he calls their office, and Tom’s like, “it’s our guy on the phone,” and it’s a supremely coincidental moment, and Diana’s next line of dialogue is “no way,” and I was watching this with Jessica and we both burst out laughing because we started to imagine the one of the writers being like, “it’s kind of coincidental that the suspect calls them while they’re talking about him,” and then one of the other writers being like, “let’s have Diana mention how coincidental it is and then the audience won’t be able to fault us for this moment of great coincidence because we’ll have acknowledged it,” and then the other writer was like, “yeah—she can say ‘no way!’” I love The 4400. Even when it has really cheesy moments like Diana exclaiming “no way!”) Anyway, if you don’t know who Graham Chase is, well, he’s only Angela Chase’s dad, and if you don’t know who Angela Chase is, well, she’s only the most fascinating and real character ever to grace a television set, but whatever. So Ingrid was like, “Graham Chase is here!” And I was like, “Tom Irwin?!!? Really?!?!” (Because I’m good with the real names like that.) And she was like, “really.” And I got really excited and the thought of seeing him at the opening was even more exciting than the thought of seeing Anya at the opening because, in all honesty, I see Anya all the time, and I’ve never seen Graham Chase. But somehow I missed him at the gallery. I believe Ingrid—I believe that he was there—but our paths never crossed.
After the opening, several of us went to a restaurant that might have been named Hal’s or it might have been named Harold’s or it might have been named Hell’s, but I can’t really remember, and really, does it make any difference? No. While we were waiting for our food, we started to play a game that we invented (New Thing #103) (I should actually give “invented by” credit to my friend Thyra) (but I’m still claiming it as a New Thing because I’m really behind on New Things and I certainly had never played the game before, whether I invented it or not) called “What are you miming?” The game is fairly basic. Basically (that’s really lazy writing of me to end a sentence with the word “basic” and then begin the next sentence with the word “basically,” but by talking about the fact that I was being lazy just now—by highlighting it and therefore entering it into the discussion as a point of debate—am I actually being not-lazy?) (Or am I being just ridiculously too-tired-to-backspace lazy?) someone starts to randomly mime an action. They shouldn’t announce the fact that they’re miming anything. Part of the game is getting other people to realize that you’re miming something, at which point they say “what are you miming?” (Hence the name of the game.) And then you continue miming that action until they get it. Oh, and even though we never explicitly said this, I would say now that one of the main rules of “what are you miming?” is that you mime something very detailed and specific and elaborate.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Okay, so I want you to go spend hours on their site watching all of their videos, but before you do, you have to clink the image below. (I'm so excited that I figured out how to make a video from youtube appear on my blog!) (not that it's even REMOTELY difficult) (but still, you know?) (it was exciting) (because technology can be a beast) (an angry beast) (a beast who hates me) (and, so, whenever technology is cool and, like, easy on me, I can't help but be exciting) (though I suppose that by going on and on like this, I'm just jinxing myself and setting myself up for a huge technological fall) (fucking technology) The video below is called "Lecture Musical" and it's my favorite piece by Prangstgrup (trans: "the prankster group"). (I also love "Library Musical" and "Start-Up Sound.")
Lecture Musical made me laugh until my stomach hurt and it made me cry until I couldn't see through the tears, which in my book = it's so fucking genius. (Thank you to the brilliant and funny Sheila O'Malley for bringing Prangstgrup, and this piece in particular, to my attention.) I've already watched "Lecture Musical" ten times today. I'm serious. I wish life was a musical every freaking day. and this clip is, like, my dream come true so hardcore. (Also, the guy who stars in the clip--his name is Mike Barry--he's my new hero.)
Anyway, without further ado, I present to you, Prangstgrup's LECTURE MUSICAL:
I'm tired of people googling that one young actress' name and finding my blog. I wish instead that people all over the world would google Mike Barry's name and come to my blog. Not that I know anything about "Mike Barry," but he's FUCKING AWESOME and the world would be so much cooler if more people googled "Mike Barry" and less people googled The Person Whose Name Will Never Be Mentioned On My Blog Ever Again, Not Even If We Were The Last Two People Alive And No One Knew That I Had Mentioned Her Name, Never, Ever, Never Will It Be Mentioned.
(Okay, I seriously don't plan on mentioning her name again, but I'm not as crazy as I sound from that last sentence. That sentence references an inside joke about this one time when Forrest Whitaker was really mean to me, and I'm too tired to tell that story right now, instead I'm just going to vaguely allude to it and [how the fuck do you spell "allude"??? That looks BEYOND WRONG] be that annoying guy who makes an allusion to something that no one knows what he's talking about.)
Friday, June 23, 2006
My dear friend Laural Meade is a brilliant playwright and a wonderful teacher and she's teaching a playwriting intensive workshop in July and I'm happily pimping out her class because she's awesome and it will be awesome and if you're a writer and you're looking for some guidance this summer, then, well, dude:
"I am offering a summer playwriting intensive over two weekends in July. It will feature:
--a structured environment to work on a project at any phase of development
--stimulating writing exercises that explore character, structure, imagery, thematics, language and theatricality
--feedback from fellow writers
--and, of course, lots of gentle guidance from me.
"We will begin with the first weekend intensive on July 15-16, followed by a two week period of personal writing. During this time, I will meet privately with each class member to discuss his or her work. We will reconvene on July 29-30 to continue writing and, finally, hear completed scenes. Sounds fun, huh? Class size will be small. Sessions will take place in Hollywood. All levels of experience are welcome. $200 for the whole program. Please call me with questions or to partake. Many thanks. Hope this finds you well, Laural
"Laural Meade works as a playwright, director, and teacher in her native Los Angeles. She holds an MFA in playwriting from UCLA, and is a member of the theater faculty at Occidental College. Other teaching appointments include classes and guest lectures at Cal Arts, the Ojai Playwrights Conference, National University, Cal State Los Angeles, Playwrights in the Schools, and numerous private workshops. Her original plays have been seen throughout Los Angeles (Taper New Works, The Actors' Gang, LATC, Highways, LACE, Keck Theater, UCLA), and in alternative venues in New York, Chicago and London. Her original musical Harry Thaw Hates Everybody won the Los Angeles Drama Critics Circle award for Best Writing, along with a variety of other awards and nominations for her writing and direction. Her most recent work Animal Logic, a play for young audiences, was commissioned by the Mark Taper Forumand produced by their Performing for Los Angeles Youth program. It will tour Los Angeles again in the fall."
The above was quoted from an email Laural sent out. I deleted her phone number from it because I didn't want Ashley Myrick to come to my blog and get Laural's number and start calling her. But if you're interested in the workshop, let me know and I'll get you in touch with Laural.
Now do the damn poll at the top of this post.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
But first, a quick recap…Last Week On Fresh Meat:
--Wes was a dick.
--Derrick and Diem were falling in love.
--Wes was dickish some more.
--Johanna loves Wes.
--Wes was a dick.
--Derrick and Diem were falling in love.
I did that recap from memory because my Tivo didn’t actually tape tonight’s recap (it started taping—boom—with the opening credits), but I don’t even have to go back and look at my last Fresh Meat write-up to know that it’s an incredibly accurate recap. (Actually, maybe Derrick and Diem were falling in love two weeks ago, but whatever.)
The episode opens with a shot of two lizards hugging and then it cuts to a shot of Wes and Johanna frolicking in the pool and I really love when reality TV editors do thinks like that because, come on: Wes and Johanna are freaking lizards, it’s true. So then Wes and Johanna start laughing maniacally and they haven’t even spoken yet and they’re freaking me out. And THEN, Johanna hugs Wes and it looks like she’s going to kill him. Seriously. She looks like a scary succubus. And then we cut to Johanna talking in testimonial and she says something like “Wes and I have a pretty good relationship…he was a mess before I got my hands on him,” and I’m like, “wait, seriously, Johanna—he was MORE OF A MESS before? Because he’s a fucking mess now. And if you’re saying he’s better, he must have been, like, the anti-christ before, and you’re a really good girlfriend.”
Thankfully (I seriously almost just wrote “thankfucky,” which is SO a better word than “thankfully”) (I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like being thankful and all, and I think that “thankfully” is a really awesome word, but it doesn’t hold a candle to “thankfucky” because, um, hello? “Thankfucky?” Best. Word. Ever.) (Michael Hartney gave me props in his blog for inventing the word “clink,” but even though I thought that I had invented the word clink, and therefore invented it for myself, I didn’t truly, honestly invent the word. Like, it had actually existed before I had the cojones to say I’d invented it.) (But “thankfucky?” That’s gotta be another story. That calls for some googling.) (Which I just did—I just googled it—and when you google the word “thankfucky,” you get one hit. But it’s a British website and most of the words on the website appear to be misspelled and I don’t think that they actually intended to use the word “thankfucky”) (though it does have a certain British ring to it) (I miss England) (I wish I was in England right now) (But I fucking digress) (sorry) (thankfucky, I think I can lay claim to the word “thankfucky,” despite that one British website, because I think they used it accidentally, without realizing what a jolly brilliant word it is) (so, thankfucky) Tina is sitting by the pool watching Johanna and Wes frolic and she tells it like it is: “I feel bad for Johanna because Wes is an asshole…I am appalled by how he talks to his partner Casey” (who, if you’ll remember, he’s always referring to as “the weakest, most incompetent, least athletic, stupidest person”) “that sexist asshole needs to go home.” Amen, sister.
Okay, so after dissing his girlfriend and her partner as “the weakest team right now,” Wes explains that he is going to do anything and everything he can to make sure that Johanna doesn’t go into exile today, which means that Johanna is TOTALLY going into exile today, and then Johanna demands that Wes “take her to the room!” and she peels her arm off of him long enough to point at the room like she’s an evil princess and the thought of these two people having sex just made me swore off sex for the rest of my life. And then the camera panned to the water and then dissolved to a shot of a lit torch and I don’t know what that is supposed to signify about Wes and Johanna’s love life, but I’m just going to move on and try to get the images out of my head.
Okay, now Tina is kickboxing with some guy whose name I can’t remember (he’s a Fresh Meater) and apparently tonight’s episode is all about booty because everyone knows that kickboxing equals they’re-totally-about-to-do-it. Which makes me hope that if everyone’s getting’ some in tonight’s episode, then freaking Derrick and Diem better freaking get some freak on because freakity freak. Oh! but then Tina stopped the kickboxing session because she was all “I saw a picture of your girl” to the dude whose name I don’t remember and then everyone was like, “dude, you got dissed! You’ve already got a girl!” (And somewhere in the house, Tanya is getting ready to kickbox with him anyway.) Apparently the dude’s name is Kenny (speaking of Kennys, hey Adam—are you still reading my blog? Did Kenny ever come check out the blog? He totally didn’t. What’s up with that?) and he’s Tina’s partner and Tina likes him but she doesn’t want to fool around with him too much because “he doesn’t realize that this is a job!” and I sooooo love that all of the Real Worlders and Road Rulers consider competing on the Challenges to be a job.
Holly crap, did I not just say that Tanya was somewhere in the house getting ready to jump Kenny’s bones? Because as soon as Kenny says “Tina’s grown on me,” Tanya comes out of nowhere WEARING A WHITE, WET, SEE-THROUGH TANK-TOP and literally throws herself on Kenny with so much force that she knocks him into the pool, but Kenny wants to show Tina that he actually likes her and not Tanya so simultaneously while Tanya is throwing herself all over Kenny, Kenny still has enough wits about him to literally grab Tina’s shirt and pull it completely off as Tanya pushes him into the pool. I’m not making this up, people. It really happened. And somewhere there are still photographs of Tina’s bare breasts as she falls into the pool after Tanya and Kenny—because while all of the above was going on, Evan was standing next to the pool with his camera and then he laughed a laugh that could not sound more like the laugh of a twelve-year-old-boy-who-just-saw-boobies-for-the-first-time if he tried to make it sound like the laugh of a twelve-year-old-boy-who-just-saw-boobies-for-the-first-time. Seriously, the. Most. Juvenile. Laugh. Evah.
After the pool shenanigans, our Fresh Meaters get a clue about tomorrow’s challenge and the clue is basically “do you want to get high tomorrow?” And everyone’s starts screaming “it’s sky-diving!” but Derrick obviously really wants to toke some of the marijuana because he’s nodding really vigorously and if this was Blind Date and a thought bubble appeared on the screen it would totally say something like “I’m high right now” or “where are my Scooby snacks?”
Then we cut to a shot of Jesse talking about his eyebrows, except he’s not talking about his eyebrows, he’s talking about how he and Johanna need to win this challenge, but all I can see is his eyebrows and all I can hear is this thing called Subtext that keeps screaming “I’m gay and I’m cute” and I’m sad because why do all of the cute, gay Fresh Meaters (Ryan and Jesse) have to be teamed up with the annoying Austen girls (Melinda and Johanna), making them the first people to be kicked off the show??? (Ryan was booted last week and I’m predicting that Jesse gets booted tonight—except when I say “tonight,” I really mean “next week” because MTV likes to stretch these things out as long as possible.) (But mark my words: Jesse and Johanna are the next team to go.)
So the group arrives at the challenge and the first thing they see is a huge rock climbing wall and everyone (except for Derrick) is upset that they aren’t going sky-diving, while Derrick is upset that they aren’t going to get high from the marijuana. Basically, the wall is really tricky and, like, booby trapped (kinda) and whoever gets to the top the quickest wins, but it’s tricky and I can’t explain the rules because the rules for every game on this show are always way too difficult to explain and I’d rather just say “they have to climb a tricky wall” and just leave it at that.
Of course, Jesse and Johanna are chosen to go first, which means that they’re at the most disadvantaged and they’re totally going to lose. While they’re climbing we get two choice quotes from Wes, re: Jesse: “He’s not that strong” and “I wish he had muscles.” Wes is totally The Biggest Asshole of Reality TV. I am going to go so far as to say that Wes is a bigger asshole than both Puck (of Real World: San Francisco fame) and Johnny “I faked my grandmother’s death” Fairplay (of Survivor fame). Now, that’s just my opinion, but I have a feeling that a lot of people out there might agree with me. What do you think? Another choice Wes quote: “I think Johanna did absolutely horrible, but I didn’t expect her to do very well…she can’t even get down with athleticism.” Yeah, Johanna, if Wes was a mess BEFORE you got to him, holy freaking cow, because he is an ASS now, and he’s The Worst Boyfriend in The World and you should dump his ass.
I totally don’t understand the motivations of people on this game. Tina and Kenny just attempted the climb and then Tina fell off the wall, causing her and Kenny to be disqualified, and then she gets all mad because she’s afraid that people are now going to think that she and Kenny are a weak team, and then Wes gets all cocky and he’s like, “this is great! Now people are going to think that Tina and Kenny are a weak team and they’re going to vote them into Exile.” But what I don’t get is…if each team is playing for themselves, wouldn’t they want to keep weak teams around? Because that means that you’ve have a better chance of beating them later? Especially if said “weak teams” are cool people who you enjoy having around, like Tina and Kenny? Wouldn’t you rather vote out assholes like Wes? I just don’t understand why anyone would even think that this was a moment that signaled Tina and Kenny’s doom—I would think that they’d WANT TO look weak? Or am I wrong?
I’m tired of quoting all of the assholy things that Wes says. He and Casey are climbing the wall right now and he’s still going on and on about how stupid he is and I just want him to go home. He’s poison. I can’t take it anymore. Goodbye, Wes, go home. (Casey, you seem like a lovely person—screw him.)
Wes and Casey got elimated and then so did some other team…this wall is really tricky…for reals…until finally the teams seem to be learning from the people before them and they’re starting to complete the task...including Derrick and Diem! Derrick and Diem do really well. But then Coral and Evan climb up the wall as if they’re natural born spiders or something, and everyone starts whispering about how great Coral and Evan are and I’m like, “Tina and Kenny are SO NOT a threat, I don’t understand why Wes would think they’re going to get voted into exile, it is SO NOT going to happen.”
Derrick and Diem get 4th place…dammit, I want them to win. Why won’t people start letting the cancer girl win? Is it too much to ask? Hopefully she and Derrick are having lots of fantastic fourth-place sex.
Of course, Coral and Evan get first place, which means they get to choose one of the two teams who are going into exile, and then Wes does the Stupidest Thing He Could Possibly Do (um, maybe because he’s an idiot? Sorry, Wes, but you are what you preach)—he goes to Coral and Evan and he’s like, “DO NOT VOTE ME OR MY GIRLFRIEND IN. You need to vote ANYONE BUT ME OR MY GIRLFRIEND.” Which totally means that Coral and Evan are going to vote in either Wes or Johanna because he’s totally given them the idea to force the two evil lovers to have to go head to head in exile. It’s practically destiny. And, of course, they pick Wes. (Wes, if you ever do another Challenge, remember that you’re never supposed to say something like “don’t vote me into exile/the gauntlet/the inferno/whatever,” because that’s like telling someone not to think of an elephant—once you’ve gotten it into your head, it’s impossible not to do.) Wes is PISSED. I am ECSTATIC.
Okay, Wes is being a drama queen now and being a bad boyfriend and I’m not going to live-blog this. I’m boycotting it. Too much drama. (Don’t get me wrong—it’s great MTV drama—but he’s such an asshole it’s ridiculous.)
Wes is having the biggest freakout in the world and, as Theo just said, he’s being “semi-delusional,” and he’s screaming and screaming about how people “better not fucking put my girlfriend into exile against me” and I’m afraid he’s totally going to make it happen because, as Theo just said, he’s putting the idea into all of their heads. It’s like he’s totally using the Power of Saying Shit Out Loud, but he’s using it for evil.
It’s Deliberation Time. And everyone decided to let Wes have it. They voted Johanna and Jesse into exile. If I wanted to care about all of Wes’ drama I’d say that it’s almost Shakespearean—the whole lover-pitted-against-lover thing—but I don’t really want to give his drama that much weight (even though I’ve just written five pages about it). Why on earth is Wes still wearing those freakish tights???
Wes just said: “She’s not the brightest star.”
Tina just called him “downright dirty.”
And Johanna just said that she “loves herself more than [she] loves Wes” and if that's true then she had better beat him because she so deserves better than that freakazoid. Holly freakin’ crap.
(photo by autowitch via flickr)
Sunday, June 18, 2006
This is your day, dads. Here's a little photo tribute.
Check out this picture of my dad in 1976, a year before I was born (when he was 16) (ha, sorry, that made me laugh, so I'm leaving it--I meant to type "26," but since I accidentally typed "16," let's pretend he was 16 a year before I was born):
What a hunk, right? See where I get my dashing good looks? (Except dad actually has abs in this picture, whereas I have a belly.) (What's up with that?) (And don't start talking about exercise and eating right.) (I know.) (I'm working on it.)
Okay, here's a picture of my dad and me in the hospital, shortly after I was born (many, many weeks before I was supposed to be born). I'm the one hooked up to the ventilator.
I don't know if you can tell from this photo, but my head is all wonky and mishapen because my skull had been fractured when I was born. After my mom gave birth to little ol' me, the doctors rushed me away, threw me in an ambulance, and took me to a different hospital across town. I suppose the other hospital was more equipped to handle premies? I dunno. But I do know that my dad went with me from the first hospital to the second one, he sat there in the ambulance, watching as an EMT pumped air into my little, underdeveloped lungs. Thanks for being there, Dad.
Here's a picture of my step-dad Joe and I, um, PLAYING FOOTBALL???
I think this is the only picture in existence of me playing football. In fact, I think this might be the last time I actually touched a football. (I mean, sure, I played football in high school P.E., when we were required to, obviously, but I'm fairly certain that no one ever threw the ball to me, and even if they did, then I certainly never actually caught it, which means that, yes, I think I can safely say that the above photo commemorates the last time I actually held a football in my hands.) (And if you'll notice, I'm totally fumbling the ball, too.) Not that I have anything against football--no, two of my brothers are awesome football players, so I'm all for football--I just think that football should be played by people who have at least a small modicum of athletic ability, and that's not me. Not by a long shot. But Joe has tried valiently (unfortch, with little success) through the years to get me to show some (even just a little) interest in sports (pretty much any sport).
But one of Joe's catchphrases (and yes, I think it's safe to say that this is a "catchphrase" of his, even though it's not really necessarily something he always says, it's an attitudinal catchprase, if that's something that you can have) (or did I just make that up?) ("attitudinal catchphrase") (quick, someone google it! did i just coin a new phrase? "Attitudinal catchphrase?") is that he's "ever hopeful." He's ever hopeful that the Angel's will win the World Series again and he's ever hopeful that I will one day show interest in any sport. (I don't think he counts boxing, which, as incongruous as it sounds, I am now a huge fan of, thanks to Mark Burnett's brilliant-but-little-watched show, The Contender.) (Speaking of which, one of the things that made me such a fan of that show was that we got to know the boxers outside the ring; more specifically, we got to know them as fathers, and as sons, and so when I watch them box I'm not just rooting for the smaller guy to beat up the bigger guy, or whatever--I'm, like, rooting for their families.) (Since we're talking about The Contender all of a sudden, I wanna send a big Happy Father's Day to Jesse Brinkley and Anthony Bonsante.) (Pictured below is Jesse and his family.)
Here's my awesome Grandpa, who also happens to be the father of my five-year-old godson/uncle:
It's pretty fucking cool that Grandpa and Granny J gave me a (very fucking cool) godson five-years ago. Thanks, Grandpa. (And thank you for being a Jew who really knows how to rock the whole Santa thing because the above photo makes me think of so many wonderful memories that you're mostly responsible for.)
Oh my god, look at this, it's another picture of Joe trying to get me interested in sports! (I'm #51):
I've told this story before, on this blog, but I'll tell it again (just to explain that I'm, like, not merely stubborn in my dislike of sports, but it's in my mental wiring or something) because it's worth telling again: I played basketball for one year. In that year, I made two baskets. Both baskets were for the other team. I kept forgetting that we switched baskets every quarter or at half-time, or whenever. Did you read that? I MADE TWO BASKETS IN ONE YEAR AND BOTH BASKETS WERE FOR THE OTHER TEAM. If that's not proof that I'm not sports-inclined, then I don't know what the fuck is. But Joe, I love that you've never given up on me, after all of these years. Ever hopeful, eh?
This next picture is my dad with all of his boys. That boy he has in his arms? Yeah, that's Mike, who just graduated from high school. Time flies fucking fast. (Holly cow.)
Finally, I would like to wish a Happy Father's Day to all of the Future Fathers out there, such as this one:
Okay, fine, that was just an excuse to post a picture of Jake Gyllenhaal at the end of this post, but whatever, fucking sue me.
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY, DADS!
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Congratulations on your retirement, Mrs. Lacy.
After having now subbed for several kindergarten classes, I have an appreciation for how difficult her job was. For most kids, kindergarten teachers are the first non-familial authoritative figures in their lives, and kindergarten teachers kind of set the tone for what their school life is going to be like for the next thirteen years. Are they going to be shining student? A trouble-maker? A wallflower? Teachers have so much on their plates that they kind of have to figure out what role they think each kid is filling immediately and then treat the kids as such. Obviously there are tons of other factors to consider when talking about What Makes Us Who We Are, but I've noticed that these kids do get labeled (princess, jock, brain, criminal, basketcase) from Day freaking One. The difficult part of teaching is trying to ignore these labels (that you yourself are often reinforcing), to see through these labels to the kid underneath--to figure out what that specific kid needs (lots of attention? space to do it on their own? etc.) and give them that.
Anyway, from what I remember about you, Mrs. Lacy (all those 23 years ago), you were a pretty good nut.
After reading this morning's newpaper, I had a really great bowel movement (so solid!), and during said bowel movement I was reading Us Weekly (my bathroom reading of choice) and I noticed this photo of James Woods and his girlfriend, Ashley Myrick, who happens to be 39 years younger than James:
Now, I have no problem with their age difference. At all. My step-dad and my mom have made a 35-year age difference work for the last 25 years. The age difference is cool with me. But what I do have a problem with is the quote that you probably can't read at the bottom of the picture. This is what it says:
"She has it all: beauty, brains and charm. I knew her when she was a little kid," JAMES WOODS, 59, has said of girlfriend and Entourage costar ASHLEY MYRICK, 20 (together in NYC June 6). [The italics are mine.]
Um, I'm sorry Mr. Woods, but that's just something you're not supposed to ever say about your girlfriend. Like, take that quote off your list of talking points right now. There is nothing charming about it. It's skeezy and weird. Please: never say it again. (Unless you're having dinner with Woody and Soon-yi--then you can say it all you want.)
I am so sad. While I was reading Us Weekly, I also found a picture of Jake Gyllenhaal running and looking all hot and bothered and I scanned it into my computer and I was going to post it right here, but now blogger is being finicky again and it won't let me post. (Sorry, Kyle.)
Since I can't post the picture, I'm going to post a link to Jake's acceptance speech for his "best kiss" award at the MTV movie awards, which truly was a speech about acceptance, and so simply stated.
The gossip rags like to speculate about Jake's sexuality and I don't want to add to any of that. He can be whoever he wants to be and he can do whoever he wants to do. I just love him--not merely because he's hot, but because he says things like this:
"This is a real honor, not just for me and Heath, but for all of you, that you picked this movie and this kiss over all the other ones. It's a big deal--it's a big deal. Thank you--not just from me, but from all those people struggling with love. Which is all of us."
Right on, Jake.
Friday, June 16, 2006
There was this kid who was graduating whose last name was Zuniga, and I decided that this Zuniga kid MUST be related to Daphne Zuniga (if not her daughter, then her niece) because, really, how many Zuniga families can there be in this world? And so I became slightly obsessed with tracking down Daphne Zuniga, because how cool is Daphne Zuniga? Of course, I wasn't certain that Daphne was there at this point, until...the freaking valedictorian quoted Spaceballs in her speech. You should have seen my face. I was like, "holy shit, you did not just quote Spaceballs!" Because that's just too much of a coincidence, for there to be someone named Zuniga graduating AND for the valedictorian to quote Spaceballs? That cannot be a coincidence--that's, like, providence or something. Daphne was totally in the house.
Other than the Spaceballs quote (which, honestly, wasn't even a very good quote), the speeches mostly blew and I've decided that it's near impossible to write a good graduation speech. (Unless you're Whitney Houston [or pretending to be Whitney Houston.].) One of the speeches was this long (endless) metaphor about "going to the grade store" every year and paying five hours a week for A's and only one hour a week for C's and just taking D's and F's for free and I think the kid spent about five minutes working on the speech so I finally decided that he deserved an F + for his five minutes of work.
There was this guy sitting in front of me--okay, wait, check him out first, before I say anything else:
So, midway through the very long ceremony, this little bug flew onto the guy's back...and me and my brothers Josh and Matt and I were trying to shoo the bug off of the man's back without him even knowing about it, but it was a really wily bug and it kept moving away from us, and my apologies to the man, but it was so much more entertaining than the graduation ceremony. The bug was literally walking all over his back for a solid 7 or 8 minutes, and as close as it came to walking onto his neck, it never did and the man never knew that the bug was there:
So now I'm like, how often do we have bugs crawling on us and we don't even know it? Seriously. We probably have bugs crawling on us all the damned time! And we don't even know it. That's cray cray.
In non graduation news, I have something very exciting to report:
For Twin Peaks fans, this is really exciting news. Unfortch, there are currently (as far as I know) no plans to release the pilot on DVD. If I remember correctly, the pilot is owned by a different company than whoever owns Seasons 1 + 2, but I wish these companies would fucking team up or something because the pilot is currently only available as a European movie with the European ending that "wraps everything up" in the last ten "only-seen-on-European-television" minutes, and it's so lame.
BUT RAWK ON SEASON 2.
(I want to post lots of hot pictures from Twin Peaks--for Kyle, because I told him I would post more hot pics--but blogger decided it will only let me post three pictures in this post.)
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Everyone always talks about how great Ian McShane is--and he is, he's great--but I don't really have anything new to say about how great he is, so I won't. He's the glue that holds the fucking thing together, end story. (I guess David Milch is really the glue that holds the fucking thing together, but so is Ian McShane.)
The other actors on the show though? Shit--they're ALL amazing. It's seriously a field day of great acting. (For great acting?)
But there are four actors who stand out to me; who are my absolute favorites on the show; and who, in the spirit of "saying shit out loud," I would like to work with one of these days.
Paula Malcomson as Trixie:
Trixie is Al Swerengen's main whore. She lies and she cheats and she steals. She's constantly doing things that put herself in danger from Swerengen, because she's under his thumb and she's defiant. She doesn't want to be under anyone's fucking thumb. But at the same time, I feel like she loves Swerengen--from looks that she gives him, from things she doesn't say, you can totally feel that love. It's a complex role and every time she's on screen, I perk up and pay more attention. I always wanna know what Trixie's gonna do next. She's fuckin' good.
William Sanderson as EB Farnum:
Robin Weigert as Calamity Jane:
My favorite fucking character on the whole goddamned fucking show. Calamity Jane is foul and weird and pissed-off and drunk--just such a fucking mess--and when she's onscreen, you can't fucking take your motherfucking eyes off her. At least I can't. If there was ever going to be a Deadwood spin-off, I'd want it to follow Jane. (Of course, I don't even know if CJ's still alive or not, because I have no idea what happens in the second season and this show kills off so many fucking characters; but still, even if she's dead, she deserves a spin-off.) (I don't want to know if she's alive or dead though--so please: no spoilers in the comment thread.)
And last, but so not least, fucking John Hawkes as Sol Star:
Okay, so, you might think this is fucking weird, or maybe you totally get it, but I have such a crush on Sol Star. I guess that means I have a crush on John Hawkes (like, when I had a crush on Alex P. Keaton, I also had a crush on Michael J. Fox), but I don't really know much about John Hawkes and so for now I'll just say that I've got it for Sol Star. Like, holly monoly, got dang, you know? I know that Timothy Olyphant's character is supposed to be the hunk who we want to get the girl, but I'm rooting for Sol and Trixie, big time. (But ohmygod, I don't want to know what happens, so don't fucking tell me.)
Oh, and speaking of awesome people who worked on this show, give it up for the lovely and talented Bo Anderson!:
(I already said this so many times, but please: no season 2 spoilers in the comments!) (I have no idea what's coming up and I wanna keep it that way!) (Look at all of these exclamation points!)
(Okay, so I am really annoyed: the picture I posted of John Hawkes is too big and it's forcing my links list to appear way at the bottom of the page and I want to fix it, but blogger won't let me reload the picture as a smaller size, so if I want my links list to appear at the top of the page like normal, then I have to delete my picture of John Hawkes and replace it god knows when. But I will NOT delete my picture of John Hawkes. So the links list is way at the bottom of the page and it's ugly and all, but I'm probably the only person annoyed.) (Just thought I would share.)
2. One of the other hits you get is Kate's Book Blog, which is a blog about books, natch. Kate quotes an essay by Adele Wiseman:
"Unlike many writers I’ve met, I did not write constantly as a child. I kept no diaries, did not try to imitate what I was reading. I absorbed and pondered and dreamed and prepared myself. I put myself through a training with words and the way I felt about them. There were certain words that had such strong feelings attached to them that I had a hard time using them. But I knew that if I was going to be a writer I would have to have the whole world of words at my disposal, in spite of how my upbringing had taught me to feel about them. I could not go on being shocked at the words some people said so easily. So I stood in front of the mirror and practiced saying 'shit' out loud, 'shit Shit SHIT', trying not to cringe inside."
3. The reason I love this Adele Wiseman quote is because she's literally talking about saying the word "shit" out loud, which is what Uma originally thought I was talking about when I first wrote my post about The Power of Saying Shit Out Loud.
4. Of course, I wasn't talking about literally saying the word "shit" out loud, but I love that Uma thought I was. She's a funny canadian.
5. I would like to note that when you google the phrase "the power of saying shit out loud," the ONLY hit you get on google is My Year of New Things. I should copyright that shit, yo.
6. Speaking of the Power of Saying Shit Out Loud, ever since I wrote that post, I've discovered that it really is true. Say something--put it into the air--and it's like you start working with the cosmos or something. Case in point: last week, when I wrote about my credit card debt, I mentioned that I had a slow but steady plan to get out of said credit card debt. Well, when I said "slow but steady," I really did mean slow but steady. As in, after 5 months of paying nary a dime, I was planning on actually paying my bills again, but trying to pay twice the minimum every month, until it was gone. Maybe it wasn't a great plan, but it was a plan. It had momentum. It would eventually bring me to zero. Eventually. Okay, BUT: as soon as I said that I had a plan and I was working on it, my big credit card (I have three) (two of them are pretty manageable, one of them is not) (this was the unmanageable one) called me and offered me a settlement deal. If I pay 50% of the bill over the next 3 months, they'll "forgive" the other 50%, and I don't accumulate any more interest or late fees or nothin'. Sure, it goes on my credit report as "settled" (which is better than "bankrupt" but worse than "paid in full"), but I already have bad credit, and once it's gone I can move on with my life. I'm very excited. Cutting the debt in half is HUGE and even though paying 50% of the bill in the next three months might be difficult, as long as I money manage, it's totally do-able. And then the big credit card is gone.
8. The Power of Saying Shit Out Loud, people!
(Photo by oiwan, via flickr.)
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
So I went to the gas station that's right around the corner from Jessica's house (I'm dogsitting Jessica's dog Orson) and I noticed on the shelf AN ENTIRE BAG of Hershey's Special Dark Chocolate Mini-bars. Like, heaven, right?
So I bought the chocolate, but I think the guy who works at the gas station used me to get away with a tiny little scam. Here's what happened:
The bag of chocolates wouldn't scan. He tried to scan it over and over again, but it just wouldn't scan. Then he typed in the bar code number, but the number didn't come up. I was like, "dude, you gotta sell me the chocolates. I need these chocolates."
And he was like, "it's not scanning."
And then I was like, "dude."
And then he was like, "it's not scanning."
And then I was like, "FOR GOD'S SAKE, CAN'T YOU JUST ENTER IT IN AS MISCELLANEOUS AND ENTER A FIGURE--ANY FIGURE, I DON'T CARE, I WILL PAY ANYTHING FOR CHOCOLATE NOW."
And then he was like, "okay," and we agreed that the bag of chocolates probably cost $2.99, but then he paused for a beat and said "that'll be three dollars," and I was like, "what's a cent?" and I paid and then I left with my glorious chocolates (which I am feasting on as I type this).
But after I left the gas station, I looked at my receipt, which read:
Lottery -- $1.00
Lottery -- $1.00
Lottery -- $1.00
And I think the gas station guy just used my three bucks to buy himself three lottery tickets, which, if that's true, would mean that I'm technically eating stolen chocolate right now (because I didn't pay for the chocolates--I paid for his lottery tickets). And I bet the gas station guy'll win a million dollars on Friday, and I hope he does--I'm sure he needs it as much as I needed this chocolate right freaking now.
We're both winners!
Monday, June 12, 2006
The "bonus picture" was supposed to be taken at 7am, but I slept through 7am, so instead my first photo was taken at about 9am, right after I woke up, and I'm fairly certain that it looks exactly like my 7am photo woulda looked 'cuz I was doing the same thing at 7am that I was doin' at 9am. Lying in my freakin' bed, mostly asleep.
Photo #1: in bed
Photo #2: waiting glasses
Photo #10: Deadwood 3
CLINK HERE for May's 12 of 12
CLINK HERE for April's 12 of 12
Yes, it does. (Sorry, Lindsay Lindsay.) (But still--I promise that for every MTV-centric blog entry, I will publish at least 5 or 6 non-MTV-centric blog posts.) (I'm totally adding this note on the commercial right now. Is that cheating? To go back and add things after I've already posted chunks of the "live" blog? Does that make this NOT live?) (Whatever, it's live.)
I don't know if I can do this without pausing occasionally. (The last two times I "live-blogged" Fresh Meat, I was able to pause and rewind when I wanted to enjoy, oh, fuck, the show is back on, now I have to scroll to the ottom and keep "live-blogging." Oy!) ("ottom," ha.)
I've already missed so many things.
Tina is really mad. She has been doing this shit for years. I'm not sure if she should be so proud.
Oh, look, Melinda--you're talking to Danny on the phone. Remember how you said you were going to die because he was gone? Or, you said something like that. I don't usually notice boobs, but Melinda's boobs are, like, characters on this show.
Okay, um, in Melinda's testimonial, why does her hair look so bad?
Jesse is so gay. He's gay. He's totally gay.
Look at Coral's boobs. I'm all about the boobs tonight, apparently--or the cameramen are all about the boobs, because that shot of Coral just now was SO boob-centric.
I don't think I can do this without pausing. Everything moves too quickly. I am HUNGRY. I want chocolate. Okay, there's some sort of challenge that's happening right now, involving jail cells and eating some sort of slop.
Either Ryan/Melinda or Casey/Wes need to win this challenge if they don't want to go into exile, but I hope neither of them win because I want the Austen kids to have to pick each other off one by one and go home, home, home.
Tanya's team is going against Katie's team right now. I totally missed what TJ was saying about what the rules of this specific challenge are. I don't know what they're supposed to be doing. Um, this is such a trainwreck of a post.
Commercials are on. I'm going to publish what I've got. This is live, y'all!
More at the next commercial.
Okay, apparently they are looking for keys in the slop, and they can only find the keys with their mouths and then they get out of the cells they're locked in and then they have to run, and Tanya just won the first round.
People are grodyied out (how do you spell grodyied?) about "eating out of Tanya's bowl." I don't know why they're so worried. I mean, after all of these years, they've all already eaten out of Tanya's bowl at least once or twice. (And when I say they've "eaten out of her bowl," I mean that they've "eaten her pussy.") (Because we're talking about Tanya here.)
Jesse and Johanna lost their key. That was a really dumb move. They were too busy thinking about Tanya's bowl. Jesse's kind of cocky. And gay. Very gay.
Okay, now Melinda and Ryan are eating out of Tanya's bowl, and Wes and Casey are eating out of other bowls, and Melinda and Ryan don't seem to have any problems eating out of Tanya's bowl and they won that round.
Poor Casey. "I've got the least athletic and least intelligent person as a partner" Wes just said.
WES, YOU ARE A FUCKING ASSHOLE.
Now Chanda is really upset. She doesn't want to eat out of ANYONE'S bowl, least of all Tanya's. They're worried about snot in the bowl, but they should be worried about a lot of other things in Tanya's bowl. Am I taking the "Tanya's bowl" thing too far?
OOOOOOOO GO DERRICK AND DIEM!!! Go! They did okay, I think they were in the other cell, not in Tanya's cell.
Coral and Evan appear to be falling in love. If that's not MTV foreplay, I don't know what MTV foreplay is. They are ALL OVER EACH OTHER and losing on purpose. Losing on purpose = love.
Okay, the challenge is over. Tonya and her partner got 2nd place. Apparently everyone else was SO worried about eating out of Tanya's bowl that they couldn't eat nearly as fast enough, except for Theo and Chanda, who were really worried about eating puke and shit, but not worried enough to not win. I am trying to type really fast. Fuck this is making me hungry. Seriously. Typing makes me hungry.
Okay, so Wes and Casey the Idiot (I feel bad that I just called her an idiot) (I just became Wes) (let me rephrase that--), okay, so Wes the Asshole Fuckwad and Casey the Sweety are now in Exile against Melinda and Ryan. I missed what the instructions were, again. Okay, commercials! Commercials mean I hit "publish," thereby making this "live." Here ya go.
Okay, I'm watching commercials right now. This has been really stressful. This "live" blogging thing. I think it's really funny that Lindsay Lindsay has already commented and that she got first because she HATES the MTV blog posts. And I love that Steve checked in to see if I was live-blogging it WHILE he was watching it. Or while he's watching it RIGHT NOW. This is LIVE, people. I'm housesitting, or dogsitting, rather. And I can't find ANY chocolate in the kitchen. I NEED SOME CHOCOLATE. Like, this craving for chocolate is really huge right now. This craving is, like, as big as Melinda's boobs.
Okay, so get this:
The following google searches brought people to my blog today:
1. vince vaughn's hand (conspiracy theorists, take note!)
2. mtv fresh meatovarian cancer (notice that "meatovarian" is one word)
3. johnnie and mtv and hot and fresh meat
4. real world fresh meat spoilers wins coral
5. mtv fresh meat spoilers
6. mtv fresh meat diem
7. bttf clock tower game
8. fresh meat diem
9. gilda radnor
10. jesse, fresh meat, gay
11. mtv fresh meatovarian cancerdiem
12. diem cyst
13. coral mtv naked
14. will forte spelling bee skit link
15. louis prima wrote
16. go pre shirt nike
17. fresh meat - mtv - diem
18. diem from fresh meat
19. derrick and diem
20. ryan mtv fresh meat
21. jesse, fresh meat
22. diem and derrick the challenge
Are people SUPER obsessed with Fresh Meat? Or am I the ONLY PERSON blogging about Fresh Meat and therefore the few people who are googling it are all coming to my site?
Oh, fuck, we're back from commercials:
la la la, okay, they are on a race and they have to do puzzles. I have to say that the "exile" portions of Fresh Meat are really lame. These races pretty much lack any drama. BORING.
'kay, Melinda and Ryan won the first "puzzle" and their prize was that they got to drop their bags, which they've been carrying with them and it looked like Ryan and Melinda would win but apparently they're supposed to have flags with them and they forgot their first flag or something.
Um, Casey just hocked (hawked?) the biggest loogie I have ever seen on television. I wanna be all "you can't do that on television," but apparently you can.
Okay, they aren't showing us the end of the challenge...wait, now they're cutting to the house...Wes and Casey won, of course, because Ryan and Melinda forgot their flag or whatever.
GOODBYE Melinda and Ryan. Arrivaderci, sayanaro, ciao. Melinda gets to go back to Danny, now. That's what she wants and it's what I want. Oh my god, this is boring, but I just remembered that Danny's partner, Ev, the cocky girl, remember her? I found her MySpace page and she and Danny are having a total fued on MySpace and it's really funny and I don't have the link to it right now but you should go find it. Everyone on this show is insane.
(except for Derrick)
What a lame blog post. I'm sorry, Lindsay Lindsay.
When I say "uncomfortably long," I mean that I was just eating lunch, and I was chewing, and I was like, "um, there's a hair in my food."
And then I was like, "um, that hair is attached to my face."
That's how long my mustache has gotten.
I know. Gross. But it happened.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
2. I'm working on a new play and one of the characters in the play only speaks Spanish, which is kind of difficult since I, um, don't speak Spanish at all. Right now I'm just writing her lines in English, and I'll have them translated into Spanish later, but I wanted to put some feelers out...anyone out there in my blogging community know Spanish well enough to do some translating for me, somewhere down the line? Thanks. (This is New Thing #96: I asked for a favor via my blog.) (It's seriously not a huge favor--it won't be that much dialogue.)
3. and this isn't a question, it's just a new thing. New Thing #97: I wrote something under a pseudonym. I can't say what it was that I wrote because that would defeat the purpose of it having been written under a pseudonym, but I need to at least record the fact that I did it because I've never written something under a pseudonym before and I've gotta take credit for each and every New Thing that I do because I am SO FREAKING BEHIND on my New Things! Like, holly cow! I have to do two New Things a day for the next god-knows-how-many-days just to catch up!
Friday, June 09, 2006
My friend Andrea S. (and I'm noting her last initial because I have two friends named Andrea) has this thing she did before she found the love of her life. She made this list called her "list of non-negotiables." She'd been unlucky in love, natch, (I don't really know when you're supposed to use the word "natch," and I may have used it wrong just now, but it felt appropriate) (and the cute guy in the baseball cap is still sitting across from me so forgive me if it causes me to use words wrong) and so she made this list of her "non-negotiables," natch. (Um, yeah, I don't know if I'm using it right there, either. Natch.) And these "non-negotiables" were basically dealbreakers from Day One. Like she wouldn't date a married woman, or she wouldn't date someone who lived out of state. Or whatever. I haven't actually seen her list, so I don't know what her "non-negotiables" were. I just know that she had this list and then she met this girl Ashleigh and they fell in love.
Now, obviously "the ability to look good in a baseball cap" should not be on ANYONE'S "non-negotiable" list, and I'm not really planning on making a "non-negotiable" list at all right now because I'm in the mood to just date and I'm happy to negotiate, or whatever. But I was thinking it would be fun to make a "negotiable" list, i.e. a list of things that I'm looking for in a guy that are TOTALLY negotiable, that are TOTALLY irrelevant, that are TOTALLY unneccessary, but I'd still like to meet a man who fulfills at least some of the requirements on this list, which I'm making mostly because I love making lists, but also because the list might come in handy, natch! (the more I type the word "natch," the more my brain starts thinking of the word "snatch," which is so totally wrong.)
Erik's list of Totally Negotiable Things (i.e. non-non-negotiables) he's looking for in his "Perfect Man," or whatever.
1. Must look good in a baseball cap
2. Must know when to use "its" and when to use "it's"
3. Must have a second home in London
4. Must have a British accent
5. Must have any accent
6. Must have read "The End of the Affair" by Graham Greene at least twice
7. Must know who "Hallie Lowenthal" is (and I chose "Hallie Lowenthal" because she wasn't a regular character, but fanatics would know who the fuck she was) (and besides, it's a non-non-negotiable)
8. Must love dogs, but not necessarily dogs
9. But can still love dogs
10. Must be a REALLY GOOD cook
11. Must be willing to occasionally let me rest my chin in his hand if I ever get tired of holding my head up
12. Must have killer abs and must know that when you're working your abs, you DO NOT work them every day, or maybe you do, depending on who you ask, but
13. Must be a brain or heart surgeon
14. Must be obsessed with television
15. Must be named Derrick and must currently be competing on MTV's Fresh Meat Challenge
16. Um, yeah, I know
17. Must own Wagamama, or at least know what Wagamama is and, like, be excited about going there
18. Must dance really well
19. Must like wearing ties (because men in ties are sexy)
20. Must know the correct usage of the word "natch," natch.
This list is far from complete, but I've gotta end it there for now.