who dat? contest.

(yo stee. i know
who dat?)

last game:

radio dude ira glass
npr's wonderful this american life

first correct answer:

jen bombpop

strange bedfellows

Yeah, yeah, I know. It's been like eight weeks and shit since I last updated, but the suspicious absences in my office have continued, thus forcing me to actually work hard all last week and so far, (it's only monday), this week as well. I also had a show open this past Saturday night which found me at the theatre some nights last week until 2am.

Let's see... really quickly. Interesting things are happening on the career front. Nothing is yet clear, however. That's how this town works, unfortunately. As I said, our show opened this weekend. The second of three. It was a little rougher than our Dirty Dancing, but ultimately (this is Saving Private Ryan) I think more daring. It's easy to make fun of a movie like DD and we've done similar films in the past, but SPR was our first really serious film (we were going to do Philadelphia but had to draw the line) and I think it went quite well. We've been sold out the whole run so far and Saturday was no different. It's such a nice thing to perform to a full house. There is nothing worse than coming on stage and seeing 7 people out there. The group is auditioning for the Aspen Comedy Festival, which is pretty cool. I have no idea if we even have a shot of getting in, but it's worth trying. And I love festivals. Love them. I hope I can figure things out and make it to Sundance/Slamdance in January. I love cold weather, too. And Hollywood crap. I love it all. And that's the only place where the two are combined to that degree. Plus I want to go sledding with Harry Knowles and Roger Ebert. Dude, think of the speed you could generate with those two!

OK, I just got a call. My comedy script is in the finals at Austin. It's down to my script and two others. Rock! Ooh, shit. I'm visiting my sister that week. And Pamie, the only person I really know well in Austin, is going to be staying at my place in L.A. But I should go. Hmmm, I have to figure this out. The cool thing is this is right after the script made the Slamdance finals last week and was in the trades. I wonder if Austin makes the trades. Well, anyway, I'm sorry if all this shit I'm doing makes this space be sporadic or lame. I'm just one boy. Shit, and goddamn Road Rules is on tonight and then tomorrow I'm sitting through 5 hours of callbacks for the evening of my one-acts that theatre company is doing. And tonight I get to go see M's play. Joy. Oooh, and my poor couch... still there. This is like day 20. It's so not even funny at this point. Someone come pick it up, OK? Stee's old couch! Free! Eh? Shit. Poor guy. Makes no sense.

Speaking of making no sense...

Aw, man. That ain't right, yo.

The Anna Nicole Smith Happy Song Corner

Peel me a grape, crush me some ice. Skin me a peach, save the fuzz for my pillow. Talk to me nice, talk to me nice. You've got to wine and dine me. Don't try to fool me bejewel me. Either amuse me or lose me. I'm getting hungry, peel me a grape. Pop me a cork, french me a fry. Crack me a nut, bring a bowl full of bon-bons. Chill me some wine, keep standing by. Just entertain me, champagne me. Show me you love me, kid glove me. Best way to cheer me, cashmere me. I'm getting hungry, peel me grape. Here's how to be an agreeable chap: love me and leave me in luxury's lap. Hop when I holler, skip when I snap. When I say, "do it," jump to it. Send out for scotch, boil me a crab. Cut me a rose, make my tea with the petals. Just hang around, pick up the tab. Never out-think me, just mink me. Polar bear rug me, don't bug me. New Thunderbird me, you heard me. I'm getting hungry, peel me a grape... speaking of which. I'm getting hungry... Hussan! Hussan! Hey, y'all. This is my new houseboy, Hussan. Hussan just came to work for me today, as a maid and servant and whatever. I don't really need one, but since I'm so rich now, I figured I should really have someone do the important things for me -- like fixing sandwiches and mixing drinks. Go on, Hussan. Good boy. I was going to get a separate bartender until by business manager suggested that I could get one person to do everything. He is watching out for my money, thinking that there's going to be an appeal or something, the worry wart. All I know about "appeal" is that some ice cream would appeal to me right now. Ha. Ha, y'all. I made a joke. I did. I did. Just cuz I'm fuckin' rich doesn't mean I ain't still funny. Now where is my son, the lil' fucker? And where is Hussan? Ooh, I better not find them together in my new walk-in closet again. I swear I better not.
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