The Return

Thanks to Spencer's blog, and John August and several other unknown people, I now have a new and improved Scrippets to try out...
Here it goes.


INT. DISCOTHEQUE - NIGHT

Hogarth, a frail man in his 20s enters the neon lit floor of the discotheque. Surrounding him are fools and tramps, each dancing more atrociously and vivaciously than the next. Hogarth stands, anxious. He spies a beautiful woman across the room, hair feathered to perfection, platforms 9 and 3/4 inches tall. He approaches.

HOGARTH
I want you to know how beautiful you look this evening.

WOMAN
(Russian accent)
Thank you. I cherish your compliments, tiny man.

Hogarth blushes.

WOMAN
Would you like to dance?

Hogarth stands, silent, thinking. Then, he pounces, grabbing her neck, and pulling her head towards his lips. Awkwardly, he kisses her eye, snatching off her fake eyelashes.

The woman, shocked, stares back at Hogarth, Then she pounces, grabbing him by his long hair, and kissing him square on the mouth. It was love.



Let's see if this worked...

Nice....

It Hurts When I Smile...

I tend to steer clear of reviewing films here (I'm not a fan of placing any sort of rating on a film. Either I like it, or I don't. No stars, thumbs, or letters for me), but I want to give this particular film a push, since it performed pretty terribly this past weekend, and it's not because it's a bad film:



The previews can't sell the humor of this film. If any of you have seen either The Office (BBC edition) or Extras, you'll understand the humor of Ricky Gervais and why it's all about the moment, and that's not easy to sell in montage form, no matter what Beatles song you put under it. I mean, this is the man who originated Michael Scott*, and helped to redefine awkward in comedy, so you can expect much of the same in this film. Gervais plays charming and slimy like the best of 'em, and he does it in spades in this film. Yes, it's a romantic comedy, but it's of the best kind. Yes, the story smells (okay, reeks) of films like The Sixth Sense, Ghost, or even Topper, but as Carl Jung would say, they are simply a part of a similar consciousness... Overall, it's a fantastically funny film, with a winning cast and some nice moments of genuine sentiment (it had me, and I'm not an easy get). I want it to do better this next weekend, even though, realistically, it won't. But, even if it continues to flop at the box office, at least you'll have seen a good film, and in the broad scheme of things, the film got made, and it made me and possibly you happy, so job (well) done; Mission: Accomplished.

*Yes, technically, he didn't, but any discerning viewer would say that he and David Brent (Gervais' role) were cut from the same cloth, and since Ricky did it first, well, you get the point...

Honest to Blog...

Here's why* I love Diablo Cody so much. I've mentioned her several times, mostly in passing, but I've come to respect her rise to the top as being genuine and rather entertaining. Most people seem to have a problem with her quick rise to fame, but I see it as a wonderful Cinderella story with a stripper twist. She's big. Steven Spielberg's working with her big, and apparently, many people have a problem with that. So, here's her response to the nay-sayers, and frankly I have to applaud her for this. The blog world is one that I've been incredibly critical of ever since I joined my first forum and felt the fire from raging lunatics bent on proving to me why the Xbox was better than a Gamecube, or why Empire of the Sun is Spielberg's most childish filmmaking effort; I've had my fair share of mud slung (is that right? slung, sling, slinged....) in my direction, so I feel her pain (in a very tiny, "I'm not an Oscar winner" way). I've been a huge advocate of her's since I saw Juno back in December of last year, because I recognized something incredibly rare in her script, and in the film: raw talent. Yeah, the film was plagued with hipster slang, and the usual glut of indie comedy quirkiness, but I just adored it for being the debut screenplay that it was. It's always fun for me to see someone like her make it big.

I remember watching the special features on Romancing the Stone (its good, so yeah, whatever), and there was a feature specifically dedicated to the film's screenwriter, Diane Thomas. Stone was her first produced screenplay as well, and it was absolutely genre-defining (romantic-comedy-adventures were not that common), and it brought her tons of success. Sadly, she passed away in a car accident before her career could really take off, but that's not the point: she created something special her first time out, and that's commendable.

The same goes for Ms. Cody. She proved that you didn't need a film degree to make a great script. I envy that. I'm honest with myself when it comes to my ability as a writer; I'm not that good. I try to be, every time I open Final Draft and begin something, but what I've been able to accomplish has been through tons of classes, and long, hard workshopping sessions. I do not believe I have all of the talent she possesses, and I'm okay with that. But to be so viciously jealous of that to the point of empty hatred strikes me as absurd and rather 3rd Grade. She's got talent. Deal with it. And that's why I love this post. It shows that she can mingle words together to create something that very effectively brings down those who seek to gain "stature" by bringing her down. She's honest about her success. She's honest about Juno's success, and she doesn't care what you have to say. Well, she does, or else she wouldn't say it, but in all honesty, that's what I love about her. She still blogs. She still posts regularly on her Twitter. She still goes on ridiculously awesome 5-day roller coaster vacations with regular people, none of whom subscribe to Variety.

She's a woman after my own heart. And while I'll never be a stripper (Hot Cops!), or a phone sex operator, I will hopefully be a screenwriter. She's proof that talent outshines anything else in this biz, no matter what people say. You see it time and time again. I hope I have talent. People tell me I do, and that's nice and all, but I still don't buy it. I struggle everyday to put words on the page, and make something of my free-time, and part of that has to do with my fears that this business can ruin even the best. I watch shows like "Entourage" and "The Comeback" (Lisa Kudrow, 2005... IMDb it) and I wonder how anyone can manage to live in LA and not want to completely lose their mind. But, the only thing that gets me by, and the small glimmer of hope I have for this industry lies in people like Diablo. Hate her style, hate her films, or whatever, but admire her tenacity. Give credit where credit is due: she's a published writer and a produced screenwriter, and while same may say it fell in her lap, well, they just weren't paying attention. She's got it. And by it, I mean talent... Really...

*WARNING: Diablo's language is EXTREMELY colorful, and probably offensive to a lot of people. You've been warned. If you aren't super offended by language, scroll down a bit past the roller coaster picture and start with the paragraph beginning "I am not Charlie Kaufman..." Again, you've been warned... In fact, don't read this... It's a bit much... I shouldn't even read it. I'll summarize for the class:

Diablo hates haters. She's successful, so deal with it. Try her job for a day, and then tell me if you like it... All in all, it's not easy, and she's good at what she does. Hate Juno, hate her, but respect the talent... The End... There.... No vulgarity, no worries! 

Scripts-Mini

INT. COFFEE SHOP - DAY

Charlie, a man in his mid thirties, walks in casually through the door. He stops short of the counter, and looks straight into the eyes of the cashier.

CHARLIE

What's up, sweet cheeks. I see your hair line fracture has healed rather nicely since the last time we spoke.

His manner is crass and vulgar.

This was a test of the Scrippet plug-in developed by John August and Friends. It doesn't quite work as nicely as it does on his site, but oh well...

WWLDD?*

If you haven't seen this already, then shame on you, because it's quite possibly the funniest thing SNL has created since D**k in a Box (or that Surprise Party sketch, but anything with Kristen Wiig is bound to be a cut above):



See? I guess I'm not the only one who saw the connection... And if her miming the shotgun isn't enough to just love Ms. Fey all over the place, then I don't know what is.

Tell me if this is sad or not: I watched a re-run of 30 Rock last week, and seriously just smiled the whole way through. Naturally, I laughed a lot, but man I just can't get enough of her! Seeing her next to Amy Poehler was a treat, and I hope so desperately that she continues to do Gov. Palin well into the election...


*Look to the right...

Get Rid of the Seaward...

So, I headed out to West Beverly Hills High today for the first time in over 10 years... It was glossy, musically hip, and appropriately teen-friendly, which means it is exactly what I should not be watching.

Buuuut...

There is one good reason to watch:


My dear Lucille... or Jessica Walter, for purists.

Now, it's important, if you are going to watch the show for her, that you have some sort of DVR set-up, whether that's a TiVo of some FauxVo from your local cable or satellite carrier. The reason for this is because, in all honesty, the only good scenes are those that feature Lucille (Tabitha in this case), and so it is extremely necessary (please note the extreme nature of this warning) that you fast-forward through the dreck that is 90210: The New Class (not the real title, just my harsh, judging title for the show, which references another beloved teen show that went awry with fresh blood).

For those returning to West Beverly (like myself), you can stop on the scenes that feature Jennie Garth, Shannen Doherty or that dude from the Peach Pit, but really, there's not much else to see or care about.

Keep in mind that while Ms. Walter does indeed channel Lucille Bluth in her portrayl of drunk 70s movie star Tabitha Mills, her character is extremely one-note, and incredibly flat (at least in the pilot). Still, it's pretty amusing to see our favorite matriarch portraying someone else for a change, even if the performance varies little... I'm all for her continuing to please AD fans by giving us a new weekly dose, so bring it on... Here's hoping she gets more to do... but I find that highly unlikely, considering the 2 hour premiere already felt over-crowded and weighed down by shallow attempts at nostalgia. The show's about the teens, and it will always be about them... Whatever, I say, but I'm not this show's demo at all, so I'll just shut my mouth, grab my TiVo remote, and enjoy what little is left of the Bluths on television.

**For those of you who are completely confused, this post in in reference to the new 90210 show, which premiered this past week on The CW. Next time, come to class prepared... I don't want to have to explain myself all the time...**

I Wish I Could Draw Her Nose...

I figured someone would have to come around and poop on the party, but I never thought it'd be George Michael...

Read it and taste the sad...

You Stay Classy...

C - Sarah Palin... not because I may or may not vote for her and John McCain this November, or because she's the GOP's answer to Hilary Clinton (?) and Obama's ability to capture the coveted 18-49 demographic, but because she looks like Tina Fey... Yeah, I'm that superficial...
Honorable mention goes to Paul Rudd. Why? Cause he's just cool...
L - Rancho Peñasquitos, or The Ranch of the Little Rocks in Espanol. It's my new home, and also my prison. Interpret that as you will. Shouldn't be too hard.
O - My TiVo. I'm rekindling my love for it, especially while using my parent's awful DVR from Time Warner Cable.
S - Embracing unemployment by doing absolutely nothing...
A - Finally finishing the first disc of Alias Season 4. Not super great, but Kelly Macdonald guested, and it was magically delicious...
T - Don't leave good friends, no matter how tempting the HDTV your parents has is.

Update! So far, so bad. I'm pretty miserable. Not much else to say.

I don't even know what to write about. I'm in a permanent state of arrested development (hey! that's the name of the show!), trying desperately to figure out the next four months (at least). I figure I need to probably take advantage of my time here in SD, you know, to become a true San Diegan and wear my colors with pride. I spent so much time here before wallowing in my inability to be elsewhere that I'm pretty sure I missed out on a lot of cool things. But, what makes those things better is when you have people to share it with, and as of this moment, I have none of that.

So, here's a call for all of my single lady friends: You wanna get hitched? I'm pretty sure I could be happily married to most of you, so why not, right? As long as you bring the funny, I'm good to go...

But no, seriously... I'm really only half kidding, so... think about it?... Please? *wink*

I dunno. Marriage looks cool and all, from an outsiders perspective, but is it really all that and a bag of chips? Really? Constant companionship from the one companion you get to choose? Always having someone to sleep next to, cuddle with, and talk to? Can't be THAT awesome, can it?
....
No, that's not a sniffle... It's a cold.....
.....
........
...........
................
..................................

Okay, there's no need to make the obvious known....

ANYway, enough of the wallowing... On to the next!!
..
...
*sniff*

Higgins!

As I'm writing this, my tragically hip new "roommate" (the quotes are mostly there to emphasize the short time with which he and I will share this house) is moving in. Now, I've "met" him before, in passing mostly, but there's one thing that I cannot get over about him. Now, mind you, this is completely a superficial judgement, but it's something that has boiled up inside of me for some time now, and frankly, I can't take much more... Anyway, back to the subject at hand... My new "roommate" has one of those mustaches... you know, the creepy pedophile, Tom Selleck-circa-1986 mustaches. And, I dislike them. A lot. Why do I dislike them so? Probably because of the mouths they find themselves attached to... Traditionally, these mustaches find themselves on the faces of individuals who fancy themselves hip. So hip, in fact, that they feel it is necessary to be ANTI-hip, meaning, they counteract any semblance of decency, and go for borderline grotesque.

I don't know how many times I've seen these folks out and about, sporting vintage tees (often tank tops), and short shorts, along with their mustaches. They often have cut-offs (thankfully, not of the Never Nude label) and slip ons, and their hair is often windswept or just poorly cut. Again, all of this appears to be an attempt to be the exact opposite of appealing. I guess, maybe, I'm simply out of touch/whack/place, but if that were the case, I'd see this trend on more than just a select few, and certainly elsewhere besides the lovable city I call college home.

Anyway, this house I live in currently, seems to be like a bug light for people of this variety. Not long ago, our house was the famed "30 Minute Dance Party" house, and again, in an effort to appear more than awesome (?), several folks sporting these creepy mustaches would show up, dance awkwardly for 30 minutes, and then hang out, sweaty and repulsive outside on the front lawn. This lasted for about a year, which was long enough for me, because I sadly became rather annoyed with these shindigs, mostly because of the crowd they attracted: this dingy, creepy, anti-hip scenester crowd that was simply "too cool for school."

Anyway, long story short, I hate mustaches, of almost any variety. Tom Selleck can get away with one, because he's Thomas Magnum. He can pull off the short shorts, and the bushy mustache look. This trend was never meant for a revival, people. Certain things disappear for good for a reason, and sadly, the 80s is full of 'em.

I can only pray that this trend will end, like flared jeans and aviator sunglasses... In general, I dig the vintage aesthetic, specifically in regards to men's clothing (suits, in particular), but I draw the line at the things that require one to shop only at vintage clothing stores. Let's leave some things in the past, clothing included, but especially our facial hair.

Now That's What I'm Talkin' 'Bout!

For all those who disliked Hancock, or even for those who liked it, and can't understand why people like myself couldn't stand it, you should read this. But, if you haven't seen it, don't read it, as it's loaded with spoilery-bits. On the other hand, if you didn't see it because it looked dumb, then, rejoice knowing you have $8.50 more in your pocket book, and then read it...

If Hancock Was 10 Times Shorter And 100 Times More Honest

This pretty much sums up why this movie just didn't work. For me, anyway. But, as it appears from this, I'm not alone.

The Choice of a New Generation

So, here I go, once again pointing my blog-o-friends in the direction of some of my favorite media pieces, but alas, media is my life, my obsession and my passion, so that's what you get here at the Haberdashery, so deal with it.


If you haven't seen or heard of Mad Men, the brilliant drama on AMC, then I hope that this post will only encourage you to finally partake of the amazing piece of television.

The show's pedigree is unparalleled. The show's creator, Matthew Weiner, basically went from writing for and producing the most talked about, and critically praised shows of the new millennium, The Sopranos to creating the equally as subversive and brilliant Mad Men. As the story goes, Mr. Weiner's original pilot script for this show was what caught Sopranos exec producer David Chase eye, inspiring him to hire him on. While this little factoid has little bearing on whether or not the show is actually watchable, the good news is that Mr. Chase wasn't wrong in spotting a talent like Weiner, and now because of this, we have the privilege of experiencing Mad Men.

The show's setting is the 1960s world of Madison Avenue advertising, taking its title from a phrase coined at the time to describe these Ad Men, or Mad(ison) Men. Clever, yes, but the title also (naturally) refers to our mad men's state of mind, something that most certainly describes the "hero" of the show, Don Draper, played by relative unknown (to me, anyway) Jon Hamm. He's an unbelievably complex character, who never quite reveals his true colors to us, let alone those he loves. Hamm's nuanced performance is just one of the many highlights of the acting pool of this stellar cast. John Slattery who plays Don's boss, nails the cynicism of a man at the end of his rope, facing death head on, as well as coming to terms with his sad marital life. Christina Hendricks, known by many as Saphron from another fantastic piece of television, Firefly, plays the head secretary (her name escapes me). She too delivers week in and week out, and her fiery sexuality helps give the show an edge that is much more sensual than erotic. It's wonderfully appropriate, given the time period's infamous Puritanism, and she is a stellar example of the beginnings of a more sexually liberated woman.


What I find the most fascinating about the show is that its period setting does not necessarily lend itself to be seen as quaint or as a nice way for the elderly to remember a bygone era. Instead, Weiner picked a time when America was changing fast. The show's first season was peppered with references to the Nixon/Kennedy election, and season 2 begins well into Kennedy's administration. This youthful president was the beginning of dramatic shift in consumer culture, where the emphasis of many people's ad campaigns became the youth of America. Women also were on the cusp of moving past the house-wife tendencies of the 1950s and into a more independent realm. The mousy character played by Elisabeth Moss is a fine example of both how men treated women, but also how women were able to rise above. The conflict in Vietnam lay on the horizon, and that pre-existing knowledge affects the show's eerie atmosphere, as most of us realize the modern gloss of this swank ad agency will soon become superfluous fluff in contrast to the war. All in all, the 1960s was a time when the façade of the 50s was beginning to fade. The gilded men of Sterling Cooper (the ad agency of the show) are beginning to show their true forms, something that society had let settle below the surface for so long. This a group of people who will become the most affected by the change to come, as it'll signal the end of the world they have come to inhabit, and this fact lends to the show's ever-present melancholy.

On a lighter note, the production design and the overall look of the show is impeccable. I cannot get enough of the show's opening credits, as well as the set design. As simple as it may seem to decorate and costume a period drama, for some reason, this stands above the rest as just having that vintage, 1960s feel, without feeling like a set. The actors feel right for the location and the time, and one never get's the sense that we're seeing modern players playing dress up.

I've included an embeded portion of the show's season 2 premiere. Don't worry about it spoiling season one, as there's very little revealed in these first minutes that'll really affect your viewing of the first season. If you are serious about waiting, then at least check out the opening credits, and then the first few minutes or so. Spectacular work.

The show is nominated for a butt-load of Emmy's, and frankly, despite my unabashed love for Lost, I can't help but hope that Mad Men takes it this year. Watch the clip below. Bask in it. Savor it. It's pretty fantastic.



Clip courtesy of Hulu

My Name is Judge...

Normally, I find earthquakes to be unbelievably creepy and unsettling, but this just made me laugh, mostly because of the situation...

The Status is Not Quo

Sorry to hit you ad nauseum with this Dr. Horrible stuff, but I've become such of huge fan of not only the show, but the idea that has driven the show to the success it has had: putting the creativity in the hands of the creatives, and allowing a niche market to spread the word. I recently read Joss' interview (along with Nathan, Neil and Felicia) in Entertainment Weekly, and they discussed this very issue. While the Writer's Strike accomplished very little (at least in my eyes), it did however manage to change how a lot of writers saw the Internet. Fighting for their new media residuals seemed to have simply ignited their excitement for the power of the Internet. Another favorite of mine, John August, also has contributed to this new trend, but his product has yet to see any light (as far as I know), but I'm sure it will. The Internet makes it possible for anyone to post anything, and it's about time we move above and beyond the YouTube crowd, and let the big boys play. Having Joss' show be such a success will only fuel other star writers/directors to flex their Internet muscle, and create original material for the Net. This is what makes me excited.

So, yeah... The reason for this post is to simply point you in the direction of hulu.com, where you'll be pleased to find Dr. Horrible, in its entirety, and for free. So please, if you haven't indulged quite yet, do so now, and enjoy.

Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

I'd embed it here, but it'd probably take a toll on this page's load times, so thank me for sparing you the agony of dial-up like speeds in today's high-speed world...

Joss is Boss

Have you watched it yet? All Three Acts are now up at www.drhorrible.com. Or, in order to further the notion of choice and our unique ability to have one, you can choose to click the above button, which will whisk you magically away from this blog, and into the world of Joss Whedon and Friends...

The show is too much fun to pass up, and with the fact that all that is free will vanish Sunday the 20th at midnight, I would expect all of you blog-o-friends to seriously consider your loyalties to Joss and Friends, and take the most appropriate action.

Things like this don't pop up often, so enjoy it now.

Really.

The Dark Screen

Guess who just saw 9/10ths of The Dark Knight?

Yeah, I know... Talk about poor timing. I get up for a 3:10am showing of quite possibly the most anticipated film of the year, only to have the finale cut short by some sort of "power failure" on the part of the IMAX projector that so deliciously entertained me for about two hours. Not only did I have to sit in line for 2 and a half hours, outside, surrounded by drunks and stoners, but we then had to sit in the theatre and wait for the freakin' thing to start for an extra half an hour (at least, I think it was that long). Finally, the film began, and boy did it begin. Full IMAX glory, bank robbery scene. Seen it before, but it was a good refresher. Anyway, the movie rocked. Or, at least 9/10ths of it rocked. I'm pretty sure the last bit was awesome too, but I cannot judge until I see it. We got free tickets, of course, but no refund (the line to get one was super long). Honestly, two tickets would have sufficed.

Anyway, that's the short story. A lot more tomfoolery went down (drunken beach ball poppers, drunk screamers, someone lighting up a blunt while we waited for the movie to come back, etc.). All it all, save for the awesomeness of the film, it was a pretty reprehensible experience. Which sucks.

Oh well, right? Not really. I'm still a little pissed, and rightfully so, right?

Oh, update: I'm esteemed frère has just informed me that per his sources, there was at least a half an hour left. So, let's readjust our fractions: 9/10ths, which is, you know, not too much, has now become 4/5ths, which is, um, redonkulous? Yeah, that's it. Re-freakin'-donkulous.

Ugh. Ugh times 5, hours, of my life, practically wasted.
Ugh times 17, dollars, which is what I spent to see the darned thing on the IMAX screen.
Ugh a million times over.

I'm done here. No one spoil the end. I may see it today. Who knows. Still, I can really say wholeheartedly that this is the best superhero flick I've ever seen, bar none. Spider-man 2 ain't got nothin' on this sucka. Nor Iron Man. Nor X-Men 2. None of 'em. Not even close. See why I'm pissed?

It Must Be Bunnies...

In my efforts to keep all of my blog-o-friends abreast about awesome Internet videos and such not, I feel obligated to link you to this:

Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

To summarize, it's got all of the below items in full force:

1) Neil Patrick Harris, who's turn as Barney Stinson on TV's How I Met Your Mother is a bright spot in today's dreary comedic television world.

2) Nathan Fillion, or Captain Tightpants from TV's Firefly. He's just plain awesome.

3) Cute newcomer, Felicia Day, who I've never seen before, but with whom I have instantly fallen in love.

4) All of the above singing... I know, right!?

5) The traditionally witty dialogue stylings of Joss Whedon.

6) Songs, à la Once More, With Feeling!, far and away one of the best episodes of Buffy, The Vampire Slayer.

7) It's free. For now.

8) It's pretty funny.

9) It's Joss Whedon, people.

10) Joss. Whedon. For free. Now. Seriously.

There's A World Outside of Yonkers...

C - Johanna DeNeige McCuen, one of my dearest and best friends. She moved away this past weekend, much to my great dismay. Thankfully, she returned to the motherland, so she's only a short car ride away, once I make the move myself. But still, I've lost, for the moment, one of the most amazing individuals I've had the pleasure of knowing.
L - My grandparent's house, waiting to go to the airport. I'm also here alone, which is a rare thing. Usually Gangy is all over me, feeding me way too much, and making sure I have enough blankets to cover me, even in July.
O - My indispensable laptop. Probably one of the smartest purchases I've ever made.
S - Watching Bridesmaids and D-minus with old friends, and laughing just as hard as I did the first time. I love my friends. I really do.
A - Squealing with elation when I realized my grandparents owned Hello, Dolly!
T - Whodathunk that Hello, Dolly! could make a grown man get weepy. Thanks WALL-E.

Many of you are aware of one my biggest wishes/inappropriate thought: Marry Tina Fey. Yes, she's super married, and yes, she's totally a hot mom, but I cannot help but seriously swoon when I watch 30 Rock, or that wicked awesome American Express commercial with Marty Scorcese. But, I am realistic, and completely aware of the absurdity of my obsession, so I simply hope that the bride I eventually wed be equal parts funny and hot. Yeah, I wanna funny woman, ladies, so if you desire the flesh de Parker, brush up on your improv, join The Groundlings or Second City, and then give me a ring.

But, it was just yesterday that I realized I have another wholly unrealistic obsession, but possibly more probable: I want to work for Pixar. Not as an animator, as I've abandoned that idea with a series of sub-par sketchbooks, but as a writer. I remember listening to a podcast featuring Michael Arndt, Oscar winning writer of Little Miss Sunshine, and the writer of Toy Story 3, discussing the writer's room at Pixar, which he recently joined. This room, if you were curious, features some of the brightest talent working in the biz, from Pixar's Grand Chef, John Lassiter to a god in his own right, Brad Bird, as well as my new favorite Andrew Stanton (Thanks WALL-E). My mind was blown, literally, when I heard that such a room existed. I'd often heard of television writers rooms, and the idea always gave me a slight orgasmic giggle (all that clever crowded into one room? Yeah, it's a writer's wet dream), but I'd never really imagined a room within the realm of cinema. Mr. Arndt talked about how each and every writer would consult on the various films being worked on by each party, and they would offer support and aid for any story issues and character problems. Now, at this point, I pulled my oxygen mask down, and declared quite boldly that I would someday be a part of this room. A moment of silence passed, and then I sat back down, shrugged, and realized my dream was about as distant as the possibility of Mrs. Fey's marriage falling apart, and me (her new best friend) falling for her romantic comedy style, and then getting hitched. Yeah, I'm sick...

Again, the possibility of my employment at Pixar is much more probable, but that doesn't make it any less difficult. I can only hope that my pure, unadulterated desire to work for such a creative giant will eventually produce fruit, and I suppose that's the only way to move about it. And, I think it'll continue to haunt me, as long as each Pixar film that comes out is as spectacular as WALL-E. I mean, what film could cause me to ever put on Hello, Dolly!, a film I have purposely avoided, due mostly to it's star, and also the fact that I've seen the original play upon which it is based (Thornton Wilder's "The Matchmaker"), which I really didn't find that interesting? I suppose a Pixar movie could, and it did, as that's what is keeping me "entertained" as I blog.

Anyway, enough of that. Back to reality, I suppose. *sigh*. Still, I think I'll do whatever it takes to get to that point, even if takes me to a different, and equally as rewarding point in my life. I'm a firm believer in dreams coming true, if we will them to be. Why? Because if we simply take what we can get, we're always settling, and as I've always said, you get what you settle for. That's not to say I'll sit on my arse until Pixar comes a knocking. I certainly want to try my hand a television writing, and probably some feature writing before I settle down in Northern California, but I think if I do my best to prove my worth as a writer, then the chances are all the more realistic.

So, there you have it. My heart. On my sleeve. Now all my blog-o-friends will know what keeps me up at night, and what keeps me going. I hope Tina never catches wind of this blog, because that would be embarrassing, until she realized my comedic genius (HA!) and invited me to join the writing staff on 30 Rock (double HA!). No, really, it'd be pretty awful if she did see this. She's totally married, people. With a cute baby daughter. And to that, I simply say: Blurg.

I Don't Snack on Meat

C - Tina Fey, because her show 30 Rock, and her character Liz Lemon, offer up some of the brightest and most ingenious comedy on TV today.
L - A children's clothing store in Dubai
O - Drumsticks. You know, the ice cream cones with the unbelievably good waffle cones that have that teeny bit of chocolate at the reverse apex, that's just teeming with orgasmic goodness that I find I can hardly express myself without the use of sexual metaphors, they're just that good.
S - Trying to break my spec for Pushing Daisies, while at the same time get a treatment together for a feature, edit my dern movie, meet with Parkin, find a wife, and figure out what August will bring once I leave my domicile for bigger and better things.
A - Physically injuring to near hospitalization the once lauded M. Night Shyamalan. Three movies full of disappointment hit its peak two weeks ago with The Happening, his biggest ball of suck by far. Redemption will not be easy, nor swift, and by the good gods of Olympus, you better not screw up the Avatar movie, or so help me I'll personally cut your legs off.
T - Never trust anyone wearing pleats in their slacks, especially if they're a woman. Ms. Poundstone, I'm glaring in your direction...

So I'm learning as we speak that absence makes the heart grow fonder. What a dumb cliché, I know, but as someone may or may not have said, "It's resonant because it's true." I am so bored here at my place of employ, I can barely stand it. I finally have time to start working 40 hour weeks here at my editing job, only to find that the first week of 40 also happens to be limbo. Nothing to do here. The person who could be giving us loads of work hasn't shown up in two days, and thus we are stuck to our own devices. One of us is gleefully entertaining himself with Final Cut Pro and prosumer camera tutorials, hoping to someday become so techno-literate, he could make the world's greatest wedding video (which, unfortunately for him, I've already seen *cough*Johanna*cough*, so he's got quite the uphill battle). My other coworker (and "non-sexual life partner" for the past two years) is busy doing whatever his mind tells him is next on the agenda, whether that be reading the comic tomfoolery of Chris' Invincible Super Blog, or just Wiki-ing random names and people for his latest thrill of knowledge. He was looking at Clark Gable not too long ago, which is at least slightly classy (unless he was only curious about Clarky's sexuality, which can be a surprisingly fun game to play with classic Hollywood stars and starlets).

I myself have personally ravaged the video resources available to me, from Hulu to the new thewb.com, which is still only in Beta. I've kinda grown tired of Internet video viewing. I'm not sure whether it's the fact that I'm not on a comfortable couch, or the fact that I'm sitting in an impossibly awkward wooden torture device (read: chair), or just that I'm not comfortable (I'm 98% sure it's screen size). In any case, it gets boring after a while. Real fast.

So, in between random spurts of AD, Buffy, Burn Notice, Raising Arizona, and Eternal Sunshine, I've found myself entranced by the long forgotten joys of Ben Folds courtesy of Pandora, and bits of writing (mostly emails and blogs). It calms me down between fits of intense boredom, but still doesn't solve my problem. What I need is some honest to goodness work. I need to strap myself down in my little wooden chair and multi-clip edit the bejeezus out of some wickedly boring Masterclass. What I wouldn't give to hear the incessant plucking of a slightly out of tune Folk Harp at an Open Mic session, or the jazz harp stylings of Park Stickney, as he thumps the pedals up and down to achieve such a crisp jazz sound. That's what I need right now. That is my drug of choice du jour, thank you very much. How I often used to believe that any double dose of Buster Bluth could cure the boredom of even the most humorless people now seems ridiculous. In my eyes, such a feat cannot fully give a man back his joy.

Work is essential for humans. Haven't we all noticed that the most miserable individuals are those who have not, or are not currently putting in a hard days work, day in and day out? I know of someone now who fits this bill, and his life is utterly (pardon the sharpness) pathetic. He works, yes, but for 4 measly hours out of the day, at a job reserved for high school kids and college freshman. The rest of his time is spent doing who knows what, holed up in his bedroom. He occasionally makes an appearance in our living room, if only to participate in whatever we are laughing at for the moment, even if he doesn't quite get it most of the time (yeah, he's like that). I don't mean to harp (ha!) on the guy, but I pretty much get depressed just looking at him, because I know he's not happy. I've been in his shoes, where I know that I'm not getting the most out of life. It saddens me to think about.

And so, here I am, again, wondering why I'm not working. Well, this time, it's out of my hands. While the money is rolling in at a steady $8.95 an hour, I'm still wasting my time away. And while reading up on Tina Fey's Wiki, or writing on someone's wall on Facebook may sound like the ultimate in luxury if one is getting paid, it's not. It's a little like hell. Each minute that passes is a minute wasted, and you know deep down that there's something better you can be doing.

My hope is that this blog will be a call to action on my part. I need to stop sulking, and find work. I have two projects that desperately need my fingers to type them up, and also countless other ideas that could use a treatment or two. What am I doing wasting my time relishing in the works of others? This time is a gift, given to me to really flesh out the things I've come to find most important to me. If time is not to be wasted, why am I so insistent on complaining about my situation?

I dunno. I really don't. I guess blogging is better than sitting about, so I suppose this is the final complaint; the final straw. No more complaining. Seize the opportunity to creatively expand the world. Seize it, and then go watch something cool.

Faster, must go faster...

Sorry for no real posts, but this was just too awesome, once again...



And this one too...

Thanks Arthur

Best 9 seconds ever...