I mentioned a while ago my new project I am working on, a short film entitled The Failures of Ed. It's the first project under my brand new production company and I'll keep you posted as to when it is finished and available for public viewing. Until then I wanted to keep those of you who are interested in the loop and let you know how it is coming along.
* I filmed a scene today with a good friend of mine I grew up with, Amy (Reynolds) Hartman. The scene was shot in downtown Auburn and I chose Amy for the scene because I knew she wouldn't be embarrassed if I made a fool of myself in public in front of her. And I did. We especially enjoyed the looks of people driving by who slowed down to see if I was OK.
* A first for me, this film will feature original music. The theme song was written and performed by singer/songwriter/funny guy Fred McNaughton. He perfectly captured the essence of the film and it's just catchy enough to stick with you for the rest of the week after hearing it.
On a side note, I am also working on a new series of short films titled The Guys. Each one will be about 5-7 minutes long and will feature a different set of guys in each episode in various situations. Casting for all three films is almost complete and I am excited to begin shooting on them as well.
And there you go. Just because I haven't put up a bunch of new films lately (I don't really count the wedding video I did for a friend since it was more of an outsourced job) it doesn't mean the wheels haven't been spinning.
I look forward to revealing the new project soon!
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Saturday, April 14, 2007
The Power of Forgiveness
What do you think is more important, forgiving someone else or being forgiven yourself? Which one feels better to you, is more comforting? I'm asking this not because I think there's a wrong or right answer; everyone's response is probably a little different. In the past month or so I've been given the chance to be on both ends, and I still haven't decided for myself.
A few years ago I was wronged by someone and never spoke up about it. I lost contact with them and never got the chance to reconnect. I did the stalker thing and tried to Google them and find them on Myspace a few times, with no luck. I never harbored any resentment against them but always kind of wished our friendship hadn't fallen out. A couple of weeks ago he found me here on Myspace. He sent me a message saying the only reason he signed up for an account was so he could contact me and ask for my forgiveness.
It was weird, to tell you the truth. Not because I didn't want to forgive him, or felt I couldn't, but because he was just so upfront and honest about it. That's a pretty rare thing anymore and I know it takes a lot of guts to admit your mistakes. It does for me.
I wrote him back to let him know everything is in the past and I still love him. I haven't heard from him since but it was nice to get some (Oprah-word warning) closure on it all. I don't know if I'll ever hear from him again but it was really good to get his message and know that everything is cool between us.
Perhaps it was his message that prompted to me ask for some forgiveness of my own. I'm not always perfect and don't always treat people the way they deserve (despite what my publicist would have you believe) and I treated one of my friends pretty badly. I'd find myself thinking about it and regret the way I acted. A little over a week ago a did a little message-writing of my own.
I didn't know if she would forgive me or, for that fact, even read the message before deleting it. I didn't know what level, if any, we would be able to restore our friendship to or if she would even want to try. That wasn't why I was doing it. I was doing it because I felt it was important I told her I was wrong and ask her to forgive me. She would have every reason to say no and I wouldn't blame her, but I felt it necessary to let her know.
And she did. She forgave me. We've been chatting a bit again and it's been really nice to be able to have that friendship there. It isn't at the same level it was before, it might never be, but it's good to be able to drop her an IM and say hey. It's very humbling to confess your mistakes, especially to the very person you've hurt, but it's always worth it. Sometimes those relationships can be restored and sometimes they can't. But you never know until you try.
So what do I think feels better: forgiving or forgiveness? I don't know. Based on these two interactions, probably forgiveness. They're both important, but when you ask for forgiveness, you're giving up any and all control. It's not up to you. It's up to them. There's nothing you can do about it and I think there's something really special about that vulnerability. It's not always the most comfortable position to be in, but without it I don't think the whole forgiveness thing is complete.
As Dennis Miller says, of course that's just my opinion. I could be mistaken.
A few years ago I was wronged by someone and never spoke up about it. I lost contact with them and never got the chance to reconnect. I did the stalker thing and tried to Google them and find them on Myspace a few times, with no luck. I never harbored any resentment against them but always kind of wished our friendship hadn't fallen out. A couple of weeks ago he found me here on Myspace. He sent me a message saying the only reason he signed up for an account was so he could contact me and ask for my forgiveness.
It was weird, to tell you the truth. Not because I didn't want to forgive him, or felt I couldn't, but because he was just so upfront and honest about it. That's a pretty rare thing anymore and I know it takes a lot of guts to admit your mistakes. It does for me.
I wrote him back to let him know everything is in the past and I still love him. I haven't heard from him since but it was nice to get some (Oprah-word warning) closure on it all. I don't know if I'll ever hear from him again but it was really good to get his message and know that everything is cool between us.
Perhaps it was his message that prompted to me ask for some forgiveness of my own. I'm not always perfect and don't always treat people the way they deserve (despite what my publicist would have you believe) and I treated one of my friends pretty badly. I'd find myself thinking about it and regret the way I acted. A little over a week ago a did a little message-writing of my own.
I didn't know if she would forgive me or, for that fact, even read the message before deleting it. I didn't know what level, if any, we would be able to restore our friendship to or if she would even want to try. That wasn't why I was doing it. I was doing it because I felt it was important I told her I was wrong and ask her to forgive me. She would have every reason to say no and I wouldn't blame her, but I felt it necessary to let her know.
And she did. She forgave me. We've been chatting a bit again and it's been really nice to be able to have that friendship there. It isn't at the same level it was before, it might never be, but it's good to be able to drop her an IM and say hey. It's very humbling to confess your mistakes, especially to the very person you've hurt, but it's always worth it. Sometimes those relationships can be restored and sometimes they can't. But you never know until you try.
So what do I think feels better: forgiving or forgiveness? I don't know. Based on these two interactions, probably forgiveness. They're both important, but when you ask for forgiveness, you're giving up any and all control. It's not up to you. It's up to them. There's nothing you can do about it and I think there's something really special about that vulnerability. It's not always the most comfortable position to be in, but without it I don't think the whole forgiveness thing is complete.
As Dennis Miller says, of course that's just my opinion. I could be mistaken.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
A Fair Representation
There are a bunch of little annoying cartoon ads on MySpace: Escape the monkey. Girl vs Sumo Wrestler. Push a safe and smash the other guy. All of them works of pure genius, I'm sure.
The one that was just on my home page was a cartoon entitled "ARE YOU A HEARTBREAKER?" In it, a goofy cartoon guy in a black leather jacket and greasy dark hair is holding a bouquet of flowers. A sexy girl walks up, unprovoked, and kicks him in the shin. If you put your mouse over the cartoon, she then grabs the bouquet out of his hands and smashes him over the head with it, sending his head spinning like Linda Blair in The Exorcist.
Yeah. I guess that's about how it goes.
The one that was just on my home page was a cartoon entitled "ARE YOU A HEARTBREAKER?" In it, a goofy cartoon guy in a black leather jacket and greasy dark hair is holding a bouquet of flowers. A sexy girl walks up, unprovoked, and kicks him in the shin. If you put your mouse over the cartoon, she then grabs the bouquet out of his hands and smashes him over the head with it, sending his head spinning like Linda Blair in The Exorcist.
Yeah. I guess that's about how it goes.
Friday, April 06, 2007
Things I Learned in Indiana
As my time in the Hoosier state begins to draw to a close, it's time for me to look back on this last year or so and reflect on what I've learned. This is a ritual I often do when I move from one city to another. It's good to reflect and figure out what, if anything, you've learned in a certain era of your life. If we don't learn anything we often repeat our mistakes and God knows I sure don't want that.
So here are a few things that come to mind when I think of
THINGS I LEARNED WHILE I WAS IN INDIANA
1. Small towns aren't necessarily bad; I'm just not a small-town guy.
2. If you show interest in a girl and your friends warn you that she is ka-razy, they're not just speaking figuratively. Trust me.
3. If you don't stand up for yourself, no one will.
4. You can inherit a lot of things from your parents, both good and bad, but you can also choose what traits and/or habits you do and don't want to carry on in your own life.
5. When you're away from home for 15 years you don't realize when you go back people will be 15 years older than they were when you last left. Sometimes that's a lot, sometimes it's not, depending on the person. Sometimes you're impressed to see how much someone has grown, and sometimes when someone is "all grown up" it's a little depressing if they've grown too much to have fun.
6. If you offer yourself to someone and they don't take you at face value, there's nothing you can do about it. It's on them.
7. I would rather be hurt than hurt someone else.
8. Blood is thicker than water, but friends can sometimes be thicker than blood.
9. Gas prices are way too high.
10. If there's a local coffee shop in your town, swing by there instead of Starbucks. For real.
11. You can find humor in anything. Anything. You really have to look for it sometimes, but it's there.
12. If you're good at something, find a way to do it.
13. If you've wronged someone, talk to them about it. Admit your shortcomings and ask for forgiveness. It's so much better than staying up at night thinking about it.
14. If you're going through a desert, keep walking. The oasis you finally reach will be more than worth it.
So here are a few things that come to mind when I think of
THINGS I LEARNED WHILE I WAS IN INDIANA
1. Small towns aren't necessarily bad; I'm just not a small-town guy.
2. If you show interest in a girl and your friends warn you that she is ka-razy, they're not just speaking figuratively. Trust me.
3. If you don't stand up for yourself, no one will.
4. You can inherit a lot of things from your parents, both good and bad, but you can also choose what traits and/or habits you do and don't want to carry on in your own life.
5. When you're away from home for 15 years you don't realize when you go back people will be 15 years older than they were when you last left. Sometimes that's a lot, sometimes it's not, depending on the person. Sometimes you're impressed to see how much someone has grown, and sometimes when someone is "all grown up" it's a little depressing if they've grown too much to have fun.
6. If you offer yourself to someone and they don't take you at face value, there's nothing you can do about it. It's on them.
7. I would rather be hurt than hurt someone else.
8. Blood is thicker than water, but friends can sometimes be thicker than blood.
9. Gas prices are way too high.
10. If there's a local coffee shop in your town, swing by there instead of Starbucks. For real.
11. You can find humor in anything. Anything. You really have to look for it sometimes, but it's there.
12. If you're good at something, find a way to do it.
13. If you've wronged someone, talk to them about it. Admit your shortcomings and ask for forgiveness. It's so much better than staying up at night thinking about it.
14. If you're going through a desert, keep walking. The oasis you finally reach will be more than worth it.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Ironic Clothing
Tonight I went to the Goodwill store to browse for new shirts. Have I mentioned this before? I love the Goodwill!!!!
Anyhow, I found a few nifty shirts and one that, as soon as I saw it, I had to have. Especially for just a couple of bucks. I don't know why. Maybe I'll never wear it but I kind of want to just because. Because...well...see for yourself....
Did you catch it? Can you see the awesomeness from this picture? Maybe not. Let's have a closer look at the sleeve.
That's right, jealous people. I now own a Burger King employee shirt!!!!!
Anyhow, I found a few nifty shirts and one that, as soon as I saw it, I had to have. Especially for just a couple of bucks. I don't know why. Maybe I'll never wear it but I kind of want to just because. Because...well...see for yourself....
Did you catch it? Can you see the awesomeness from this picture? Maybe not. Let's have a closer look at the sleeve.
That's right, jealous people. I now own a Burger King employee shirt!!!!!
Hey Ed, what's for dinner???
I'm glad you asked.
Tonight I enjoyed some Polish sausages. But not just Polish sausages. I fried them in olive oil along with green peppers, onions, and portobello mushroom caps. After a few minutes in went the garlic, red pepper flakes, and balsamic vinegar and OH MY GOODNESS.
I'm so glad I bought enough ingredients to cook it again tomorrow night. So...ladies...you know where I'll be. See you at 8.
Tonight I enjoyed some Polish sausages. But not just Polish sausages. I fried them in olive oil along with green peppers, onions, and portobello mushroom caps. After a few minutes in went the garlic, red pepper flakes, and balsamic vinegar and OH MY GOODNESS.
I'm so glad I bought enough ingredients to cook it again tomorrow night. So...ladies...you know where I'll be. See you at 8.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
The Upside of Anger
I'm so angry right now. I won't even go into it, let's just skip all of the babble and get right to the part where I'm angry. Despite how furious I am, though, I'm not distracted enough to miss the silver lining. I drove over to Dad's place because I knew I could go to him and talk about it and he would be honest enough with me to tell me if I was out of line. I know a lot of people don't have that kind of relationship with anyone, let alone one with their father.
I'm the kind of guy who wants friends to not only share in the good times, but also keep me accountable if I'm not thinking straight. I want them to be honest with me when I ask them, "Is it wrong for me to feel this way? Do I need to put the spotlight on myself here?"
Tonight I realized just how blessed I am to know that I have that kind of friendship with Dad.
Even though I'm still fuming, it's a comforting kind of fume.
I'm the kind of guy who wants friends to not only share in the good times, but also keep me accountable if I'm not thinking straight. I want them to be honest with me when I ask them, "Is it wrong for me to feel this way? Do I need to put the spotlight on myself here?"
Tonight I realized just how blessed I am to know that I have that kind of friendship with Dad.
Even though I'm still fuming, it's a comforting kind of fume.
Mixed Emotions (with smells)
Yesterday my doorbell rang. I live in an upstairs apartment and looked out my window to see who it was below. There was some scraggly-looking guy with an old bicycle standing out on my porch. I had no idea who he was, I didn't have any money to lend him, I didn't have a phone he could use, and I didn't want to be stabbed, so I didn't answer.
The doorbell rang again. And again. And again. Then the pounding on the front door began. Pound, pound, pound. Ringringringringring. Poundpoundpoundpoundpound. This guy was relentless and finally I was just angry and eager to tell this guy to leave me alone. I was hoping I'd get to fight. I'm not the strongest guy in the world but I can definitely beat up an old hobo.
I ran down and answered the door, interrupting him mid-pound.
"Is your name Ed?"
"Yea," I answered, and immediately I could smell...I don't know...him.
"Is your name Eddie?"
"Yes."
"I found this," and he hands me my old driver's license, Kroger club card, an expired debit card from a closed account, and a membership card to a video store that has since closed. I had left my money clip in my car overnight last summer and the next morning it was gone. Or at least I thought I had. Knowing me, I was never sure if I just misplaced it. Turns out someone did indeed snatch it from out of my center console where I left it.
"Oh, thanks," I said, trying to sound grateful, but I don't think it was convincing. I noticed the money clip itself and the $10 that was clipped to it were gone.
"I didn't find a wallet," he said.
"Yeah, they were just in a money clip."
"I didn't find a money clip. I found them in my yard."
And that explained the weird smell. I live on a pretty nice block, as evidenced by the picture below. Nothing fancy, but a cute little street. But, like in The 'Burbs, there's one house that doesn't fit in. This particular house is right next door and is actually a little rundown camper. I always wondered what kind of person lived in that camper and now I knew. The stereotype I had in my mind was dead on.
Apparently someone took my money clip, grabbed the cash and clip itself, and then threw the rest over the fence into this guy's yard.
A couple of hours after my stuff was returned to me I noticed my apartment reeked. You guessed it. I don't know how long this guy had my useless cards in his place, but it was long enough for them to absorb the smell of his house (camper) and pass it on to other innocent households. My belongings didn't have the smell of sitting outside in the weather; this smell was 100% man-made.
I threw everything away and lit some incense. I guess I should be more grateful to the guy but the whole thing left me with more questions than before. When he asked if I was Ed I told him yes, and then he asked if I was Eddie and I said yes again. But nothing on any of my cards says "Eddie." Why would he ask if I was Eddie? And just how long did he have my stuff? What was he doing with it?
It seems all very suspicious to me. I'm glad I'm moving soon.
The doorbell rang again. And again. And again. Then the pounding on the front door began. Pound, pound, pound. Ringringringringring. Poundpoundpoundpoundpound. This guy was relentless and finally I was just angry and eager to tell this guy to leave me alone. I was hoping I'd get to fight. I'm not the strongest guy in the world but I can definitely beat up an old hobo.
I ran down and answered the door, interrupting him mid-pound.
"Is your name Ed?"
"Yea," I answered, and immediately I could smell...I don't know...him.
"Is your name Eddie?"
"Yes."
"I found this," and he hands me my old driver's license, Kroger club card, an expired debit card from a closed account, and a membership card to a video store that has since closed. I had left my money clip in my car overnight last summer and the next morning it was gone. Or at least I thought I had. Knowing me, I was never sure if I just misplaced it. Turns out someone did indeed snatch it from out of my center console where I left it.
"Oh, thanks," I said, trying to sound grateful, but I don't think it was convincing. I noticed the money clip itself and the $10 that was clipped to it were gone.
"I didn't find a wallet," he said.
"Yeah, they were just in a money clip."
"I didn't find a money clip. I found them in my yard."
And that explained the weird smell. I live on a pretty nice block, as evidenced by the picture below. Nothing fancy, but a cute little street. But, like in The 'Burbs, there's one house that doesn't fit in. This particular house is right next door and is actually a little rundown camper. I always wondered what kind of person lived in that camper and now I knew. The stereotype I had in my mind was dead on.
Apparently someone took my money clip, grabbed the cash and clip itself, and then threw the rest over the fence into this guy's yard.
A couple of hours after my stuff was returned to me I noticed my apartment reeked. You guessed it. I don't know how long this guy had my useless cards in his place, but it was long enough for them to absorb the smell of his house (camper) and pass it on to other innocent households. My belongings didn't have the smell of sitting outside in the weather; this smell was 100% man-made.
I threw everything away and lit some incense. I guess I should be more grateful to the guy but the whole thing left me with more questions than before. When he asked if I was Ed I told him yes, and then he asked if I was Eddie and I said yes again. But nothing on any of my cards says "Eddie." Why would he ask if I was Eddie? And just how long did he have my stuff? What was he doing with it?
It seems all very suspicious to me. I'm glad I'm moving soon.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
The Death of a Killer
In April of 1984 my grandfather Juan Placencia was brutally murdered. Three boys attacked him at his home in the early hours of the morning. After stabbing him repeatedly they proceeded to rob him of $130 cash and a TV they later sold for 20 bucks. According to the testimony of his attackers, my grandfather spent the entire time pleading for his life.
One of the boys, who served as the "lookout", was sentenced to 10 years in prison and was released after two. The second boy, who did the actual robbing, was sentenced to 50 years and will be eligible for parole in (I believe) 2 years.
The man who did the actual stabbing, David Leon Woods, was sentenced to death and has spent the last 22 years appealing the verdict. This most recent time around Woods' attorney argued that it is illegal to execute someone who is mentally retarded in the state of Indiana and Woods has decided to claim he is mentally retarded. Woods also claimed that lethal injection is "cruel and unusual" punishment and should not be carried out.
You know what's cruel and unusual? Stabbing a man 22 times in the face, back, and neck. You've spent the last 23 years trying to cheat death. And you barely gave my grandfather 20 minutes.
Naturally, a couple of days ago the Supreme Court denied Woods' appeal and their statements about him falsely claiming mental deficiency were almost humorous. This was his last chance to appeal. The Supreme Court has declared Woods be put to death before sunrise on May 4, 2007.
Ask everyone in my family how they feel about the judgment and you won't get any two identical answers. Some have forgiven. Some have publicly vowed never to forgive. Some have admitted my grandfather wasn't a perfect man. Others claim he was anything but.
Woods' death won't bring back Grandpa. I don't believe his death will make me feel any better. But I will be glad when all of this is over.
It's easy to cling to the past and cling to anger and hopefully the execution of David Woods will help some people loosen that grip. When you hold on so tightly to hate and revenge, you don't have any free hands to grasp for hope and peace of mind.
One of the boys, who served as the "lookout", was sentenced to 10 years in prison and was released after two. The second boy, who did the actual robbing, was sentenced to 50 years and will be eligible for parole in (I believe) 2 years.
The man who did the actual stabbing, David Leon Woods, was sentenced to death and has spent the last 22 years appealing the verdict. This most recent time around Woods' attorney argued that it is illegal to execute someone who is mentally retarded in the state of Indiana and Woods has decided to claim he is mentally retarded. Woods also claimed that lethal injection is "cruel and unusual" punishment and should not be carried out.
You know what's cruel and unusual? Stabbing a man 22 times in the face, back, and neck. You've spent the last 23 years trying to cheat death. And you barely gave my grandfather 20 minutes.
Naturally, a couple of days ago the Supreme Court denied Woods' appeal and their statements about him falsely claiming mental deficiency were almost humorous. This was his last chance to appeal. The Supreme Court has declared Woods be put to death before sunrise on May 4, 2007.
Ask everyone in my family how they feel about the judgment and you won't get any two identical answers. Some have forgiven. Some have publicly vowed never to forgive. Some have admitted my grandfather wasn't a perfect man. Others claim he was anything but.
Woods' death won't bring back Grandpa. I don't believe his death will make me feel any better. But I will be glad when all of this is over.
It's easy to cling to the past and cling to anger and hopefully the execution of David Woods will help some people loosen that grip. When you hold on so tightly to hate and revenge, you don't have any free hands to grasp for hope and peace of mind.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
The Big News
It's very rare you find a job you not only love doing, but also love the people you work with. It's also pretty rare to get a chance to do what you've always dreamed of and, again, love the people you get to do chase that dream with.
Even rarer than both of those situations, though, is getting the chance to do it again. Both of them.
I worked at WJTL in Lancaster PA for about three years and have stayed in touch with just about everyone there since I left back in '92. A lot of places claim to promote a family environment but very few deliver. JTL is one of those places and when I got a call from Fred, the station manager at WJTL a few weeks ago, I was more than a little excited. Fred told me about a position he felt would be right up my alley. In a nutshell, they are looking for someone to do audio production, video production, and helping with their website. Of course I was excited because all of those are things I love doing. I mean come on! Web, audio, and video? Count me in!! It wasn't 100% certain but Fred assured me it was 99% sure and would let me know as soon as everything was finalized.
Today Fred let me know. It's official and I'm officially stoked. I have been offered the job and I have accepted. I promised a friend of mine I would DJ her wedding here in Indiana so I will be leaving for Pennsylvania immediately afterward, putting me back in Amish paradise in mid-June.
I'm really excited not only to be doing what I love to do but also to be near some very dear friends whom I consider my family.
But wait! There's more!
If you've read my blogs you know I can't shut up about how much I loved being in New York City and performing at the National Comedy Theatre, an improv theater in Manhattan. It's a passion of mine I've chased for quite some time and the people there are very talented and dear to my heart. Well...Lancaster is only a 3-hour train ride away from New York City. Three hours!!! I have an iPod, so that's nothing..that's like 2 episodes of Saturday Night Live and a Ricky Gervais podcast!
That's right, baby! Not only will I be able to work at a place and with people I already know I love, but I'll be able to go up to New York on weekends and perform at a place and with people I already know I love.
Oh yea...and I'll only be about 45 minutes away from an IKEA.
Sometimes God is much better to me than I deserve.
Even rarer than both of those situations, though, is getting the chance to do it again. Both of them.
I worked at WJTL in Lancaster PA for about three years and have stayed in touch with just about everyone there since I left back in '92. A lot of places claim to promote a family environment but very few deliver. JTL is one of those places and when I got a call from Fred, the station manager at WJTL a few weeks ago, I was more than a little excited. Fred told me about a position he felt would be right up my alley. In a nutshell, they are looking for someone to do audio production, video production, and helping with their website. Of course I was excited because all of those are things I love doing. I mean come on! Web, audio, and video? Count me in!! It wasn't 100% certain but Fred assured me it was 99% sure and would let me know as soon as everything was finalized.
Today Fred let me know. It's official and I'm officially stoked. I have been offered the job and I have accepted. I promised a friend of mine I would DJ her wedding here in Indiana so I will be leaving for Pennsylvania immediately afterward, putting me back in Amish paradise in mid-June.
I'm really excited not only to be doing what I love to do but also to be near some very dear friends whom I consider my family.
But wait! There's more!
If you've read my blogs you know I can't shut up about how much I loved being in New York City and performing at the National Comedy Theatre, an improv theater in Manhattan. It's a passion of mine I've chased for quite some time and the people there are very talented and dear to my heart. Well...Lancaster is only a 3-hour train ride away from New York City. Three hours!!! I have an iPod, so that's nothing..that's like 2 episodes of Saturday Night Live and a Ricky Gervais podcast!
That's right, baby! Not only will I be able to work at a place and with people I already know I love, but I'll be able to go up to New York on weekends and perform at a place and with people I already know I love.
Oh yea...and I'll only be about 45 minutes away from an IKEA.
Sometimes God is much better to me than I deserve.
Monday, March 26, 2007
A "Helpful" Rhyme
Today I drove past the fire department and they had a sign out front that read
I guess they're trying to be cute and rhyme and everything but I think an even more effective sign, and wiser advice, would be
I mean, otherwise it'd be like "I know my kitchen is engulfed in flames but you know what? There's really not much smoke. I think I'll stay put. Besides, I can't be bothered if the smoke isn't thick. I have laundry to fold."
GET OUT QUICK IF THE SMOKE IS THICK
I guess they're trying to be cute and rhyme and everything but I think an even more effective sign, and wiser advice, would be
IF YOUR HOUSE IS ON FIRE THEN GET OUT
I mean, otherwise it'd be like "I know my kitchen is engulfed in flames but you know what? There's really not much smoke. I think I'll stay put. Besides, I can't be bothered if the smoke isn't thick. I have laundry to fold."
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Saturday, March 24, 2007
No, No, NO!!
When I woke up this morning, a fishing show was ending on ESPN. After the final credits rolled, a bumper came on proclaiming ESPN the "home of every sport." Um....
FISHING IS NOT A SPORT!!!!
There are a lot of "sports" out there that really push using the term, but there is nothing you can say to convince me fishing is a sport. It's not. Fishing isn't a sport. In my book, in order for something to be a sport it must take a little bit of skill and sometimes even a little bit of sweat.
Sure, you don't sweat when you play darts, but it does require skill. You don't sweat in poker, but at least you're playing against someone else. In fishing, you have no opponent except whether or not a fish actually happens to swim by.
It's the only "sport" where it's not even guaranteed you'll play. There's no chance of me showing up at a golf course and being told there are no holes. I'll never spend an afternoon playing basketball and walk away frustrated because the hoops didn't decide to show up. If you can spend an entire day with no assurance you'll even get to do the activity, then it's not a sport. Fishing is a hobby, but it's not a sport any more than gardening or scrapbooking.
It comes down to this simple rule: It's not a sport if it can be done from a plastic chair with a built-in beer holder.
It just isn't.
FISHING IS NOT A SPORT!!!!
There are a lot of "sports" out there that really push using the term, but there is nothing you can say to convince me fishing is a sport. It's not. Fishing isn't a sport. In my book, in order for something to be a sport it must take a little bit of skill and sometimes even a little bit of sweat.
Sure, you don't sweat when you play darts, but it does require skill. You don't sweat in poker, but at least you're playing against someone else. In fishing, you have no opponent except whether or not a fish actually happens to swim by.
It's the only "sport" where it's not even guaranteed you'll play. There's no chance of me showing up at a golf course and being told there are no holes. I'll never spend an afternoon playing basketball and walk away frustrated because the hoops didn't decide to show up. If you can spend an entire day with no assurance you'll even get to do the activity, then it's not a sport. Fishing is a hobby, but it's not a sport any more than gardening or scrapbooking.
It comes down to this simple rule: It's not a sport if it can be done from a plastic chair with a built-in beer holder.
It just isn't.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Up with Whitey. And Men.
This blog may seem a little disjointed and for good reason. I am still in a state of shock and can't believe what I went through and witnessed last night. One of the only things worse than seeing a major injustice is the feeling of utter helplessness in knowing there is nothing you can do about it.
My dad, as some of you know, is a former boxer and Golden Gloves champion. He started boxing as a young teen and had his last fight in 1976. He has been a boxing coach ever since and all said has about 50 years experience in the arena. He has a real love for the sport, knows what it taught him in life, and when you see him working with kids you can tell how much he loves sharing that passion. Dad is a father figure to a lot of guys who grew up in less-than-stable households and because Dad let them know they can do anything they want if they put their mind to it, they grew up to achieve successes they may never have attained otherwise: Upstanding fathers and husbands. Lawyers with integrity. Exemplary political figures. Even a NASA engineer.
So last night when Dad and a fighter of his experienced an incredible amount of racism and prejudice while trying to be involved in a sport that has done so much to improve not only his life, but the lives of others, it really rocked his world. It was hard to watch.
Dad has been training a young female boxer named Jessica for a couple of years. Even before I moved back into the area I felt like I knew her whole history because many times when we would talk on the phone Dad would tell me about her and, not only was she a great athlete, but she was a great kid with a big heart. When I moved back into town last year and went down to the club for a few months to train I got to meet Jess and Dad was right. She's a great fighter, a really hard worker, and...well...just a good person. She's the kind of kid (I say kid, but she's a freshman in college) with such a sweet disposition you automatically want to take her under your wing and protect her like she was your little sister.
She works harder and is more dedicated than anyone, male or female, I've seen in a long time. Dad is hoping to get her accepted into the training for the female Olympic boxing team this summer. The hard thing about it, though, is the lack of female boxers in the area. They have a really hard time finding matches for her. It's really hard for Jess because she loves the sport so much yet is often met with frustration when she travels out of town to a fight only to find out her opponent didn't show up or had to back out for some other reason. It's not unlike that feeling of disappointment the Griswolds felt when their family drove across country to go to the Wally World theme park only to find out it was closed.
Dad got a call from a boxing guy in Michigan a few weeks ago who said he had someone who would box Jessica at an amateur show just outside Detroit. Dad and Jess were both very excited about it and when Dad asked if he could borrow my video camera to tape the fight for Jess I volunteered to go along and film. I had never seen Jess fight in an actual bout before and was excited to go along.
On the three-hour drive up there you could sense how excited Jess was. It'd been almost a year since she had a fight and she was chomping at the bit. When you haven't done something you love for so long, and then get an opportunity to do it again, the adrenaline rush leading up to the actual event is exhilarating and that's definitely where Jess was at.
The fight was being held at the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB in ROCHESTER, MICHIGAN. Let's all remember that name. The GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB. Now you know where to send your letters.
We got there and were greeted by a friendly guy at the door, probably a high school or college student, and inside were two friendly girls about the same age who pointed us in the right direction. We got Jess weighed in and had about an hour and a half to spare. We asked what time we needed to be back as we wanted to go and grab a bite to eat and left to get some sustenance.
Upon returning to the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB we saw the parking lot was filled. They had signs up in the lobby advertising "Fight Night!" that included "amateur boxing, fine dining, and fine cigars." Tickets to this event, by the way, were $80 apiece. This is an amateur fight. None of the boxers or boxing clubs represented were getting paid. They were all there just to participate in a sport they loved. In fact, the only people who were probably getting any money were the people who brought the boxing ring. So the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB really got themselves a deal, to say the least.
Upon our return we met Rene, the guy who was promoting and putting together the fight. He seemed like a really nice guy despite looking a little frazzled. He showed us the waiting area, which was a small room off the main lobby. And when I say a small room, that's exactly what it is. Dad and Jess went down the hall so Jess could see the doctor for her pre-fight physical and I stayed behind with our stuff. I sort of drifted toward the wall in the lobby to be out of the way and Rene told me that GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB wanted everyone inside the room; no one could be in the lobby. I didn't think anything of it, as I understood it to be a holding room for fighters and their coaches.
Inside the approximately 12' x 17' room were maybe 10 or 12 chairs and 50-60 people. There were boxers and coaches, yes, and there were also people who had come to watch their families fight, mostly wives and children. It was a unique atmosphere to say the least only because there were a lot of people in a very small room, a lot of boxers, but it was pretty quiet. Everyone was being very respectful of their surroundings, this wasn't a sweaty gym somewhere, and I was impressed to say the least.
One of the two double doors leading into the room was standing open and a few minutes after being in there a woman came to the room, glared at everyone inside and said (direct quote here), "You need to keep this door closed. We don't want our members to see you." Then she shut the door as if we were a bunch of kids who had been sent to our rooms and had been caught sneaking out. No, scratch that...she shut the door more like we were a bunch of people who weren't white and had trespassed onto the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB property.
You would think that when you live in a community so close to Detroit and want to have a boxing show, you're going to expect a few brown people to walk through your door. Of the people in the room, it was probably 10% white, 30% hispanic, and 60% black.
No one said anything. There was no call to riot, no questioning or backtalk. We all just accepted that those were the rules, weird as they may seem, and everyone went back to what they were doing, which was either talking quietly or putting on hand wraps. A few people came up to me, introduced themselves, and I got to meet some really nice folks. That's one thing about the boxing community. As violent as some people think it is as a sport, the people involved in it are some of the friendliest, most humble, and most polite people you'll ever meet.
Soon some people came in from out in the lobby, more than likely returning from seeing the doctor. The doors of the room are the kind that stay propped open automatically and have to be pulled shut and after a few minutes the door to the room was found open again. Not because someone defiantly opened the door, but because people were going in and out of it on their way to and from their physicals.
From outside I heard the Dragon Lady yelling at someone. "You have to get in the room!" There was a pause as whoever she was yelling at responded, but they were using a hushed tone and I couldn't hear what was said. Again the lady yelled, "Just get in the room!"
Soon after a young black man came into the room. He walked over to his friends and said "Did you hear her yell at me? I told her I was just coming back from the bathroom and she yelled at me to get back in the room." This guy didn't have any attitude at all in his voice, he was just talking to his friends like he was telling them what he had for breakfast.
I honestly couldn't believe what I was seeing. You always hear about discrimination at country clubs but I never really gave it much thought. I actually figured it was just people blowing things out of proportion and here I was, seeing it for myself.
A few minutes later the Dragon Lady returned to the room and yelled at no one, "I need you to keep this door closed! We don't want our members to see you people!" I remember finding it ironic that everyone talked to her in polite and hushed tones as if they were in a library, and she talked by yelling. And she worked for the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB. Shouldn't she be the polite one and the rest of us riff-raff be the ones who are loud and obnoxious?
Rene then entered the room and shut the door. He announced that no one was allowed to go in and watch the fights except for the fighters themselves and the coaches. No wives. No children. They were all to stay in the room. I could see the frustration on Rene's face as he said this; I've never gone to a boxing show where this has been the case. He explained this wasn't the rules of the boxing association but something the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB had just told him. He also expressed this was the last time he would be working with the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB in ROCHESTER, MICHIGAN.
You can imagine the disappointment in the room upon hearing this news. Not only could their wives and children not stand in the back of the event room and watch them fight, they had to stay in this cramped little space during the entire course of events. But no one said anything. No backtalk. No sass. No "are you kidding me's." I think everyone was slowly starting to accept that it was what it was.
Dad and Jess finally returned from the doctor and as Dad started to wrap Jess's hands and I filled him in on what had been going on. A few minutes before the fights were to begin Rene stepped in the room and called Dad's name. This is it! I thought to myself, Here we go! Then Rene said he wanted to talk to Dad and Jess. I waited back in the room.
A few minutes later Dad came in and said, "There's no fight." Everyone in the room froze and looked at Dad. I hadn't seen Dad ever look so defeated before in my life.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"They aren't going to let Jess fight because they said it would offend their members."
I said it without even thinking. "Would it offend their members if I went out there and punched them in the neck?"
Dad grabbed his boxing duffel bag and coat. "They're not letting the girls fight because they said "They're girls.""
Dad said, "They won't even let us stay and watch the fights. We have to leave."
"Wow," I said, "I've never been kicked out of a country club before."
You could feel the disbelief and shock as it settled on everyone in the room. Jess came in the room and I could see she was trying hard not to cry. One of the other coaches said, "If they're not letting your girl fight, then none of my guys are fighting."
Another coach agreed. "They've treated everyone here really disrespectfully, and that's not right. If they're not going to let everyone fight, then none of my guys are fighting either." Boxers around the room began nodding their heads in silent agreement.
These things weren't said in a dramatic, loud, call-to-arms tone of voice. Despite what everyone had gone through and how everyone had been treated, everyone was still talking quietly and appropriately. I couldn't get over how impressed I was.
And what really impressed me was Rene's response. I expected, "Now, now, now, let's not get out of hand here, there's still going to be a show." Instead, Rene simply stated, "I know. If you want to leave, you can leave. Maybe we should all leave. I'll never work with these people again."
Dad, Jess, and I left but not before I caught a glimpse of a few guys taking off their wraps and shoes. I also remember seeing the young guy and girls who greeted us at the Country Club when we first arrived. They were still smiling, but their smiles were no longer genuine, as if they just realized exactly where they were working.
I wanted to stay behind to see what happened, to see how many people actually left, all three of us did, but we had a three-hour drive ahead of us and Dad wanted to get on the road.
In the truck I asked Dad what happened when he was called out of the room. Rene told Dad They're not going to let any girls fight. They said it would offend their members. Dad told me, "I couldn't believe he actually said that.It's so wrong."
While they were in the lobby talking to Rene one of the boxers came from the bathroom in his boxing trunks and shoes with no shirt on...like what boxers wear. A man (the Dragon Lady's counterpart, I assume) yelled at the kid to "Get in the room! This is a family environment! There are children here!" (I pointed out to Dad that the only children I saw in the place were the kids of the boxers they had cooped up in the waiting room.)
Dad said he'd never seen Jess so angry before. Jess asked the man if he was the one that said she couldn't fight. The man said he was. Jess asked why and Dad said this guy got a look on his face like no woman had ever dared to ask him that question before. And that's probably true.
He told Jess, "Because you people won't keep that door closed, you're coming in and out, and it's chaos in here!"
"That's not my fault. Don't punish the girls for that."
The man walked up to Jess, pointed his finger in her face, and said, "It IS your fault."
"Why won't you let us box?" Jess pleaded again and his answer was cut and dry.
"Because you're girls."
He turned and stormed away and Jess called out after him, "Haven't you ever heard of women's boxing?"
I don't know what happened after we left the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB. In my mind I see all of the boxers refusing to stand for it and walking out. Their employees, offended by the bias they have observed, quit their jobs. The precious "members", who paid 80 bucks a ticket, demand their money back and the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB takes a big loss.
In reality, that's probably not what happened. I'm sure some of the boxers stayed behind. I'm sure there were some fights. Maybe not as many as they had planned on, but the people got their show and smoked their cigars. And I'm also pretty sure none of the members had any idea any of this occurred.
It's all about the Members, isn't it? Protect the members.
Dad was in a state of shock during the drive home. It broke my heart. And when I saw Jess in tears I could feel my heart bleed. All she could say over and over again was "I've never been told I couldn't do something because I was a girl." I told her it wasn't fair and they weren't right. It wasn't. And they weren't.
I'm not naive. I've been around the block a time or two. I know there is injustice in the world, much of it unprovoked and uncalled for. And I guess I've just learned to put up with it. But the first time someone is exposed to it, the first time they realize some stereotypes are true...to actually witness the moment when someone's innocence is shattered...that hurts like nothing I've ever experienced.
Jess's voice trembled as she said it. "I hope that guy doesn't have any daughters. If he does, I feel really bad for them."
Dad and I did, too.
My dad, as some of you know, is a former boxer and Golden Gloves champion. He started boxing as a young teen and had his last fight in 1976. He has been a boxing coach ever since and all said has about 50 years experience in the arena. He has a real love for the sport, knows what it taught him in life, and when you see him working with kids you can tell how much he loves sharing that passion. Dad is a father figure to a lot of guys who grew up in less-than-stable households and because Dad let them know they can do anything they want if they put their mind to it, they grew up to achieve successes they may never have attained otherwise: Upstanding fathers and husbands. Lawyers with integrity. Exemplary political figures. Even a NASA engineer.
So last night when Dad and a fighter of his experienced an incredible amount of racism and prejudice while trying to be involved in a sport that has done so much to improve not only his life, but the lives of others, it really rocked his world. It was hard to watch.
Dad has been training a young female boxer named Jessica for a couple of years. Even before I moved back into the area I felt like I knew her whole history because many times when we would talk on the phone Dad would tell me about her and, not only was she a great athlete, but she was a great kid with a big heart. When I moved back into town last year and went down to the club for a few months to train I got to meet Jess and Dad was right. She's a great fighter, a really hard worker, and...well...just a good person. She's the kind of kid (I say kid, but she's a freshman in college) with such a sweet disposition you automatically want to take her under your wing and protect her like she was your little sister.
She works harder and is more dedicated than anyone, male or female, I've seen in a long time. Dad is hoping to get her accepted into the training for the female Olympic boxing team this summer. The hard thing about it, though, is the lack of female boxers in the area. They have a really hard time finding matches for her. It's really hard for Jess because she loves the sport so much yet is often met with frustration when she travels out of town to a fight only to find out her opponent didn't show up or had to back out for some other reason. It's not unlike that feeling of disappointment the Griswolds felt when their family drove across country to go to the Wally World theme park only to find out it was closed.
Dad got a call from a boxing guy in Michigan a few weeks ago who said he had someone who would box Jessica at an amateur show just outside Detroit. Dad and Jess were both very excited about it and when Dad asked if he could borrow my video camera to tape the fight for Jess I volunteered to go along and film. I had never seen Jess fight in an actual bout before and was excited to go along.
On the three-hour drive up there you could sense how excited Jess was. It'd been almost a year since she had a fight and she was chomping at the bit. When you haven't done something you love for so long, and then get an opportunity to do it again, the adrenaline rush leading up to the actual event is exhilarating and that's definitely where Jess was at.
The fight was being held at the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB in ROCHESTER, MICHIGAN. Let's all remember that name. The GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB. Now you know where to send your letters.
We got there and were greeted by a friendly guy at the door, probably a high school or college student, and inside were two friendly girls about the same age who pointed us in the right direction. We got Jess weighed in and had about an hour and a half to spare. We asked what time we needed to be back as we wanted to go and grab a bite to eat and left to get some sustenance.
Upon returning to the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB we saw the parking lot was filled. They had signs up in the lobby advertising "Fight Night!" that included "amateur boxing, fine dining, and fine cigars." Tickets to this event, by the way, were $80 apiece. This is an amateur fight. None of the boxers or boxing clubs represented were getting paid. They were all there just to participate in a sport they loved. In fact, the only people who were probably getting any money were the people who brought the boxing ring. So the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB really got themselves a deal, to say the least.
Upon our return we met Rene, the guy who was promoting and putting together the fight. He seemed like a really nice guy despite looking a little frazzled. He showed us the waiting area, which was a small room off the main lobby. And when I say a small room, that's exactly what it is. Dad and Jess went down the hall so Jess could see the doctor for her pre-fight physical and I stayed behind with our stuff. I sort of drifted toward the wall in the lobby to be out of the way and Rene told me that GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB wanted everyone inside the room; no one could be in the lobby. I didn't think anything of it, as I understood it to be a holding room for fighters and their coaches.
Inside the approximately 12' x 17' room were maybe 10 or 12 chairs and 50-60 people. There were boxers and coaches, yes, and there were also people who had come to watch their families fight, mostly wives and children. It was a unique atmosphere to say the least only because there were a lot of people in a very small room, a lot of boxers, but it was pretty quiet. Everyone was being very respectful of their surroundings, this wasn't a sweaty gym somewhere, and I was impressed to say the least.
One of the two double doors leading into the room was standing open and a few minutes after being in there a woman came to the room, glared at everyone inside and said (direct quote here), "You need to keep this door closed. We don't want our members to see you." Then she shut the door as if we were a bunch of kids who had been sent to our rooms and had been caught sneaking out. No, scratch that...she shut the door more like we were a bunch of people who weren't white and had trespassed onto the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB property.
You would think that when you live in a community so close to Detroit and want to have a boxing show, you're going to expect a few brown people to walk through your door. Of the people in the room, it was probably 10% white, 30% hispanic, and 60% black.
No one said anything. There was no call to riot, no questioning or backtalk. We all just accepted that those were the rules, weird as they may seem, and everyone went back to what they were doing, which was either talking quietly or putting on hand wraps. A few people came up to me, introduced themselves, and I got to meet some really nice folks. That's one thing about the boxing community. As violent as some people think it is as a sport, the people involved in it are some of the friendliest, most humble, and most polite people you'll ever meet.
Soon some people came in from out in the lobby, more than likely returning from seeing the doctor. The doors of the room are the kind that stay propped open automatically and have to be pulled shut and after a few minutes the door to the room was found open again. Not because someone defiantly opened the door, but because people were going in and out of it on their way to and from their physicals.
From outside I heard the Dragon Lady yelling at someone. "You have to get in the room!" There was a pause as whoever she was yelling at responded, but they were using a hushed tone and I couldn't hear what was said. Again the lady yelled, "Just get in the room!"
Soon after a young black man came into the room. He walked over to his friends and said "Did you hear her yell at me? I told her I was just coming back from the bathroom and she yelled at me to get back in the room." This guy didn't have any attitude at all in his voice, he was just talking to his friends like he was telling them what he had for breakfast.
I honestly couldn't believe what I was seeing. You always hear about discrimination at country clubs but I never really gave it much thought. I actually figured it was just people blowing things out of proportion and here I was, seeing it for myself.
A few minutes later the Dragon Lady returned to the room and yelled at no one, "I need you to keep this door closed! We don't want our members to see you people!" I remember finding it ironic that everyone talked to her in polite and hushed tones as if they were in a library, and she talked by yelling. And she worked for the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB. Shouldn't she be the polite one and the rest of us riff-raff be the ones who are loud and obnoxious?
Rene then entered the room and shut the door. He announced that no one was allowed to go in and watch the fights except for the fighters themselves and the coaches. No wives. No children. They were all to stay in the room. I could see the frustration on Rene's face as he said this; I've never gone to a boxing show where this has been the case. He explained this wasn't the rules of the boxing association but something the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB had just told him. He also expressed this was the last time he would be working with the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB in ROCHESTER, MICHIGAN.
You can imagine the disappointment in the room upon hearing this news. Not only could their wives and children not stand in the back of the event room and watch them fight, they had to stay in this cramped little space during the entire course of events. But no one said anything. No backtalk. No sass. No "are you kidding me's." I think everyone was slowly starting to accept that it was what it was.
Dad and Jess finally returned from the doctor and as Dad started to wrap Jess's hands and I filled him in on what had been going on. A few minutes before the fights were to begin Rene stepped in the room and called Dad's name. This is it! I thought to myself, Here we go! Then Rene said he wanted to talk to Dad and Jess. I waited back in the room.
A few minutes later Dad came in and said, "There's no fight." Everyone in the room froze and looked at Dad. I hadn't seen Dad ever look so defeated before in my life.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"They aren't going to let Jess fight because they said it would offend their members."
I said it without even thinking. "Would it offend their members if I went out there and punched them in the neck?"
Dad grabbed his boxing duffel bag and coat. "They're not letting the girls fight because they said "They're girls.""
Dad said, "They won't even let us stay and watch the fights. We have to leave."
"Wow," I said, "I've never been kicked out of a country club before."
You could feel the disbelief and shock as it settled on everyone in the room. Jess came in the room and I could see she was trying hard not to cry. One of the other coaches said, "If they're not letting your girl fight, then none of my guys are fighting."
Another coach agreed. "They've treated everyone here really disrespectfully, and that's not right. If they're not going to let everyone fight, then none of my guys are fighting either." Boxers around the room began nodding their heads in silent agreement.
These things weren't said in a dramatic, loud, call-to-arms tone of voice. Despite what everyone had gone through and how everyone had been treated, everyone was still talking quietly and appropriately. I couldn't get over how impressed I was.
And what really impressed me was Rene's response. I expected, "Now, now, now, let's not get out of hand here, there's still going to be a show." Instead, Rene simply stated, "I know. If you want to leave, you can leave. Maybe we should all leave. I'll never work with these people again."
Dad, Jess, and I left but not before I caught a glimpse of a few guys taking off their wraps and shoes. I also remember seeing the young guy and girls who greeted us at the Country Club when we first arrived. They were still smiling, but their smiles were no longer genuine, as if they just realized exactly where they were working.
I wanted to stay behind to see what happened, to see how many people actually left, all three of us did, but we had a three-hour drive ahead of us and Dad wanted to get on the road.
In the truck I asked Dad what happened when he was called out of the room. Rene told Dad They're not going to let any girls fight. They said it would offend their members. Dad told me, "I couldn't believe he actually said that.It's so wrong."
While they were in the lobby talking to Rene one of the boxers came from the bathroom in his boxing trunks and shoes with no shirt on...like what boxers wear. A man (the Dragon Lady's counterpart, I assume) yelled at the kid to "Get in the room! This is a family environment! There are children here!" (I pointed out to Dad that the only children I saw in the place were the kids of the boxers they had cooped up in the waiting room.)
Dad said he'd never seen Jess so angry before. Jess asked the man if he was the one that said she couldn't fight. The man said he was. Jess asked why and Dad said this guy got a look on his face like no woman had ever dared to ask him that question before. And that's probably true.
He told Jess, "Because you people won't keep that door closed, you're coming in and out, and it's chaos in here!"
"That's not my fault. Don't punish the girls for that."
The man walked up to Jess, pointed his finger in her face, and said, "It IS your fault."
"Why won't you let us box?" Jess pleaded again and his answer was cut and dry.
"Because you're girls."
He turned and stormed away and Jess called out after him, "Haven't you ever heard of women's boxing?"
I don't know what happened after we left the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB. In my mind I see all of the boxers refusing to stand for it and walking out. Their employees, offended by the bias they have observed, quit their jobs. The precious "members", who paid 80 bucks a ticket, demand their money back and the GREAT OAKS COUNTRY CLUB takes a big loss.
In reality, that's probably not what happened. I'm sure some of the boxers stayed behind. I'm sure there were some fights. Maybe not as many as they had planned on, but the people got their show and smoked their cigars. And I'm also pretty sure none of the members had any idea any of this occurred.
It's all about the Members, isn't it? Protect the members.
Dad was in a state of shock during the drive home. It broke my heart. And when I saw Jess in tears I could feel my heart bleed. All she could say over and over again was "I've never been told I couldn't do something because I was a girl." I told her it wasn't fair and they weren't right. It wasn't. And they weren't.
I'm not naive. I've been around the block a time or two. I know there is injustice in the world, much of it unprovoked and uncalled for. And I guess I've just learned to put up with it. But the first time someone is exposed to it, the first time they realize some stereotypes are true...to actually witness the moment when someone's innocence is shattered...that hurts like nothing I've ever experienced.
Jess's voice trembled as she said it. "I hope that guy doesn't have any daughters. If he does, I feel really bad for them."
Dad and I did, too.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Recycled Paper
Yesterday Dad took me out for breakfast. When we came in we saw a lady there who said hello to us and she looked really familiar. I wanted to ask Dad who she was, but it's a small place and it was really quiet in there; she was sitting at the table right next to us. I grabbed a pen and scribbled on the paper placemat, "Who is she? Looks familiar."
I passed the pen to Dad and he jotted down the answer. I still didn't know who it was and I scribbled out our writings. We ate our breakfast without further incident and went on our way.
This morning we got together for breakfast again at the same place and grabbed the same table. We sat down, I looked at the table, and you guessed it: exact same placemat, as evidenced by our notations from yesterday.
I'm still not sure how to feel about this. The placemat wasn't dirty or anything but at the same time...it was the same placemat. It made me wonder what else they might be recycling.
I passed the pen to Dad and he jotted down the answer. I still didn't know who it was and I scribbled out our writings. We ate our breakfast without further incident and went on our way.
This morning we got together for breakfast again at the same place and grabbed the same table. We sat down, I looked at the table, and you guessed it: exact same placemat, as evidenced by our notations from yesterday.
I'm still not sure how to feel about this. The placemat wasn't dirty or anything but at the same time...it was the same placemat. It made me wonder what else they might be recycling.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Kiss Me, Apparently I'm Irish
One of my stand-up jokes talks about my ethnicity and how people sometimes have a hard time guessing that I am Mexican, American Indian, German, and Dutch just by looking at me. Well, I can now add Irish to the list.
I actually found out a couple of months ago when Mom told me we have a big bunch of Irish ancestors on her side of the family. How did I not know this? Why did she wait until I was 36 years old to tell me? Why was this kept from me?
This explains so much: my love of Celtic music, my fondness for the guys in the bands The Electrics and Ceili Rain, the red hairs that pop up in my beard when I don't shave, and of course my horrible horrible binge drinking (as if the Mexican/American Indian/and German heritage didn't already explain that).
So Happy St. Patrick's Day, me!
I actually found out a couple of months ago when Mom told me we have a big bunch of Irish ancestors on her side of the family. How did I not know this? Why did she wait until I was 36 years old to tell me? Why was this kept from me?
This explains so much: my love of Celtic music, my fondness for the guys in the bands The Electrics and Ceili Rain, the red hairs that pop up in my beard when I don't shave, and of course my horrible horrible binge drinking (as if the Mexican/American Indian/and German heritage didn't already explain that).
So Happy St. Patrick's Day, me!
Funky BREWSTER
There was a guy working at Gotee Records while I was there named Brewster and he's pretty much one of the coolest guys I know. You know the kind of person I'm talking about. As soon as you meet them you wish you were best friends so you could hang out all the time and just be around someone so cool.
Unfortunately, Brewster wasn't around very long after I got there and soon his adventures led him to Florida, so I never got to know him as well as I would have liked.
Thanks to the miracle of MySpace, I (and you) still have a chance to get to know him a little better. He's been writing some blogs lately that are, excuse me for gushing, pretty darn amazing. I've seen people cut and paste little inspirational tidbits here and there, but Brewster writes some things that really hit home and get you thinking. And then gets you to take action on those thoughts.
So find Brewster, take a look around, and subscribe to his blog. It'll be more than worth it.
Unfortunately, Brewster wasn't around very long after I got there and soon his adventures led him to Florida, so I never got to know him as well as I would have liked.
Thanks to the miracle of MySpace, I (and you) still have a chance to get to know him a little better. He's been writing some blogs lately that are, excuse me for gushing, pretty darn amazing. I've seen people cut and paste little inspirational tidbits here and there, but Brewster writes some things that really hit home and get you thinking. And then gets you to take action on those thoughts.
So find Brewster, take a look around, and subscribe to his blog. It'll be more than worth it.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Foiled Again!!!
I'm really getting a kick out of all of the extra work I did while in Chicago and New York City...and the fact that there's no proof of it.
The Break-Up: Two days in Chicago and my awesome roller blading scene was deleted. It was even deleted from the DVD's deleted scenes!! But like I've said before, I got to roller blade behind Jennifer Aniston, so there are no regrets.
Devil You Know: My role as the snooty matire'd who gives Lena Olin an angry look will very likely always remain a hidden treasure as it never went to theaters and I never heard anything about it since.
Without a Trace: I got to play an FBI employee fleeing from a building and after close examination of the episode, I was nowhere to be found.
And now another one to add to the list. I did work for a new FOX TV show called The Wedding Album about a wedding planner and his zany adventures. I believe I would have gotten some good "hey there he is" screen time but it seems FOX has gone with a different TV show about wedding planners, The Wedding Bells. Awesome.
There's only one left...a movie with Robin Williams called August Rush. I haven't seen any previews for it or heard any buzz yet, so I'll keep you posted. It's currently scheduled to come out in August. On the same weekend as the Bourne Identity sequel. So...good luck.
Who knows. If this doesn't work, I may have to jump back in and try it again. Don't think I won't, doggonit.
*UPDATE
Ok, I found this website on August Rush. Apparently some guy who does special effects worked on the movie and he has a couple of clips on his website of the film and how he made it look like there were actually a lot more of us in Central Park than there was in reality. He has four scenes in his clip; I am somewhere in each of the first three, but it's impossible to find me. Hopefully when the final product comes out I will be ready for my close-up.
To watch the scenes click here. Once you're there, click on REEL in the top right-hand corner and then choose August Rush. If nothing else, it's kinda cool to see the before and after of the effects.
The Break-Up: Two days in Chicago and my awesome roller blading scene was deleted. It was even deleted from the DVD's deleted scenes!! But like I've said before, I got to roller blade behind Jennifer Aniston, so there are no regrets.
Devil You Know: My role as the snooty matire'd who gives Lena Olin an angry look will very likely always remain a hidden treasure as it never went to theaters and I never heard anything about it since.
Without a Trace: I got to play an FBI employee fleeing from a building and after close examination of the episode, I was nowhere to be found.
And now another one to add to the list. I did work for a new FOX TV show called The Wedding Album about a wedding planner and his zany adventures. I believe I would have gotten some good "hey there he is" screen time but it seems FOX has gone with a different TV show about wedding planners, The Wedding Bells. Awesome.
There's only one left...a movie with Robin Williams called August Rush. I haven't seen any previews for it or heard any buzz yet, so I'll keep you posted. It's currently scheduled to come out in August. On the same weekend as the Bourne Identity sequel. So...good luck.
Who knows. If this doesn't work, I may have to jump back in and try it again. Don't think I won't, doggonit.
*UPDATE
Ok, I found this website on August Rush. Apparently some guy who does special effects worked on the movie and he has a couple of clips on his website of the film and how he made it look like there were actually a lot more of us in Central Park than there was in reality. He has four scenes in his clip; I am somewhere in each of the first three, but it's impossible to find me. Hopefully when the final product comes out I will be ready for my close-up.
To watch the scenes click here. Once you're there, click on REEL in the top right-hand corner and then choose August Rush. If nothing else, it's kinda cool to see the before and after of the effects.
Monday, March 12, 2007
More Stuff for the Fridge
Wow..talk about knocking one out of the park! A couple weeks ago I posted a blog about rearranging the stuff on my refrigerator and encouraged my buddies to feel free to send me something to add to the collection. My most recent addition comes from my pal Jen in Florida.
Along with a nice card explaining everything, she sent me some really cool custom-made magnets (one of them featured Chuck Norris telling me how awesome I am, one was a church sign advertising "Brother Ed" in concert, and my personal favorite was the one made up to look like a ticket stub to an Ed Placencia comedy concert (with fellow Hoosier Jim Gaffigan as my opening act)).
She also sent me a couple of pictures of her poodles. So now I have poodles on my refrigerator.
Jen is under the impression that I'm a Photoshop freak. Not sure why she thinks that, but whatever. She doesn't have Photoshop, so she printed pictures of me, cut my head off, and re-pasted them on various magazine photos with hilarious results.
Now my fridge looks even better than before! Thanks, Jen, for the great package and the big laughs! You rock!!
Along with a nice card explaining everything, she sent me some really cool custom-made magnets (one of them featured Chuck Norris telling me how awesome I am, one was a church sign advertising "Brother Ed" in concert, and my personal favorite was the one made up to look like a ticket stub to an Ed Placencia comedy concert (with fellow Hoosier Jim Gaffigan as my opening act)).
She also sent me a couple of pictures of her poodles. So now I have poodles on my refrigerator.
Jen is under the impression that I'm a Photoshop freak. Not sure why she thinks that, but whatever. She doesn't have Photoshop, so she printed pictures of me, cut my head off, and re-pasted them on various magazine photos with hilarious results.
Now my fridge looks even better than before! Thanks, Jen, for the great package and the big laughs! You rock!!
Sunday, March 11, 2007
In Support of My Non-Flakes
My friend Rachael recently posted a blog venting her frustration about her flaky friends...people who just kind of come and go and are there one minute and gone the next. Granted, she lives in Nashville and a lot of people there are part of the CCM music machine, so that's most of the problem right there. ;) I think we all have friends like that (I'm sure I've been that person more than once) but it made me even more grateful for my friends who have always been there.
Yesterday I spoke with Amy on the phone, one of the many talented people I worked with at the National Comedy Theatre in Manhattan. It'd been too long since we last talked and it was great to catch up with her. One of my favorite memories of New York is with Amy. We went to a karaoke bar one night where she entered the big contest and won first prize (an Easy button from Staples). After that we walked through Central Park, despite the fact it was too late to safely do so and then went to a Chinese restaurant. We talked about everything from parents to God and Jesus to relationships. It was one of those times that made you grateful for the people in your life.
Talking with Amy yesterday also reminded me of the rest of the NY gang. Usually when one moves away from somewhere you keep in touch with everyone for a certain amount of time and then that kind of wanes and you end up maybe hearing from one or two of them. Not so with my fellow improv-ers. Adi keeps me filled in on her voice-over work, Chris loves to leave me random video clips, I love hearing what JT is working on, Virginia lets me know how she's doing, Jeff keeps me in check, Jason keeps me laughing, Jacob shares his adventures, Paulie shares his passion for comedy...I'm going to stop listing individuals because I'm going to forget someone but you get the point.
I have one or two people from each city I've lived in that I still keep in touch with and still feel really close to, but New York definitely has the highest ratio. Weird.
And I can't think of my New York friends without thinking of my friends next door in Pennsylvania. I worked at WJTL there and can safely say I still hear from pretty much everyone on a regular basis. Fred, Stacey, John, Lisa, Ethan, Aubrey, Tim, Tom, Mel, and Jen to name a few. I don't deserve to be so lucky.
If you're a friend that doesn't live in one of those two places, don't think I'm saying I like my NY and PA friends more than you...it's just funny to me that there's this huge block of people all within 3 hours of each other that I am still fortunate enough to hear from pretty regularly.
So although it does stink to think of friends that have gone missing or AWOL, it's more than comforting to be reminded of those who haven't.
Yesterday I spoke with Amy on the phone, one of the many talented people I worked with at the National Comedy Theatre in Manhattan. It'd been too long since we last talked and it was great to catch up with her. One of my favorite memories of New York is with Amy. We went to a karaoke bar one night where she entered the big contest and won first prize (an Easy button from Staples). After that we walked through Central Park, despite the fact it was too late to safely do so and then went to a Chinese restaurant. We talked about everything from parents to God and Jesus to relationships. It was one of those times that made you grateful for the people in your life.
Talking with Amy yesterday also reminded me of the rest of the NY gang. Usually when one moves away from somewhere you keep in touch with everyone for a certain amount of time and then that kind of wanes and you end up maybe hearing from one or two of them. Not so with my fellow improv-ers. Adi keeps me filled in on her voice-over work, Chris loves to leave me random video clips, I love hearing what JT is working on, Virginia lets me know how she's doing, Jeff keeps me in check, Jason keeps me laughing, Jacob shares his adventures, Paulie shares his passion for comedy...I'm going to stop listing individuals because I'm going to forget someone but you get the point.
I have one or two people from each city I've lived in that I still keep in touch with and still feel really close to, but New York definitely has the highest ratio. Weird.
And I can't think of my New York friends without thinking of my friends next door in Pennsylvania. I worked at WJTL there and can safely say I still hear from pretty much everyone on a regular basis. Fred, Stacey, John, Lisa, Ethan, Aubrey, Tim, Tom, Mel, and Jen to name a few. I don't deserve to be so lucky.
If you're a friend that doesn't live in one of those two places, don't think I'm saying I like my NY and PA friends more than you...it's just funny to me that there's this huge block of people all within 3 hours of each other that I am still fortunate enough to hear from pretty regularly.
So although it does stink to think of friends that have gone missing or AWOL, it's more than comforting to be reminded of those who haven't.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Guys Night Out
It was a pretty good Saturday night. Dad and I went to watch the regional basketball championship and a couple of old friends of ours, Todd and Adam, came along for the ride.
I literally grew up with Todd and Adam. They lived across the street and for quite a few years mom babysat them in the summertime, so we have shared many an adventure. It was really fun to hang out with them and get the gang back together again. The only thing missing was Rayman.
Even though the team we were rooting for lost, we still had fun at the game griping about the refs and making fun of the other team's fans. Afterward we went out to eat and it was great to be together again making each other laugh. Good times, indeed, and warm fuzzies abound.
See? Not all of my blogs are whiny rants.
I literally grew up with Todd and Adam. They lived across the street and for quite a few years mom babysat them in the summertime, so we have shared many an adventure. It was really fun to hang out with them and get the gang back together again. The only thing missing was Rayman.
Even though the team we were rooting for lost, we still had fun at the game griping about the refs and making fun of the other team's fans. Afterward we went out to eat and it was great to be together again making each other laugh. Good times, indeed, and warm fuzzies abound.
See? Not all of my blogs are whiny rants.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Man, I Stink
I'll preface this blog with the fact that I don't wear much cologne. I'm pretty sensitive to smells (especially cologne and cigarette smoke) and most cologne is just too strong for me. It tends to penetrate that spot right behind my eyeballs and makes me want to bleed out of the top of my head. I tell you that to tell you this:
Yesterday morning Dad and I went to do some work for this old guy named Benny who's known Dad for a long time. We weren't there long...just long enough to prime and paint a couple of patches in his living room. We got there a little before 9 and Benny informed us he had a dental appointment and retreated to his bedroom to get ready.
Apparently while he was in there he spilled a bottle of old-man cologne and then rolled around in it (I don't know what brand it was, but you know what I mean...that stuff old men love to wear that smells like they got a liter of it for 99 cents at CVS). It was horrible. Horrible. And when he came back out from his bedroom, it was worse. It filled the house and there was no escaping it. I could see the vapors rising off him like the heat on a highway on a hot summer day.
But I didn't say anything and just kept listening to my iPod and working away like a good little Doozer.
I was enjoying a nice remix of "Kung Fu Fighting" from a UK Now compilation when suddenly Benny steps right up beside me out of nowhere. While I'm working I only listen to my iPod with one ear bud and keep the volume very low so I can still hear what's going on around me, and this big doofus still managed to sneak up on me.
He said, "This is so all the ladies will attack you today" and the next thing I knew he was spritzing me with this horrendous cologne. He sprayed me three times, right in the middle of the chest, from only about an inch away. Then he started laughing his fat head off and I was instantly pissed. My day was ruined almost before I even knew what was happening.
Immediately my head started to throb. I just looked at him like "What the..." and he continued to laugh. He looked at Dad with a "Pretty good one, huh?" kind of look and I could tell Dad was on my side.
Fortunately, we were almost finished. I was wearing three layers at the time: a long-sleeved shirt, a t-shirt on top of that, and a hoodie sweatshirt on top of that. I started taking our stuff back outside to the truck and while I was out there, took off the hoodie and the t-shirt. I threw them in the back of the truck hoping the bitter 17-degree weather would help get rid of the smell. In the meantime, I still reeked. Despite the fact that I had on three shirts when I was maced, the bottom shirt was still wet from the spray (that's how close he sprayed me).
What the freak, dude? Why would you do that? And with something that smells like liquid angst? And I just did laundry!
After we were all finished working and I had taken everything outside to the truck Dad stayed and chatted with the guy for a few minutes. I stayed outside in the cold in the hopes of diluting the smell quickly. But no such luck.
When Dad came out he jokingly told me "You're riding in the back". I was glad to know that Dad also thought that guy had been pretty rude and he started getting a headache from the smell, too. So that was nice in a misery-loves-company kind of way. All the way home we hated on the guy and I called him bad names and Dad laughed.
Yesterday morning Dad and I went to do some work for this old guy named Benny who's known Dad for a long time. We weren't there long...just long enough to prime and paint a couple of patches in his living room. We got there a little before 9 and Benny informed us he had a dental appointment and retreated to his bedroom to get ready.
Apparently while he was in there he spilled a bottle of old-man cologne and then rolled around in it (I don't know what brand it was, but you know what I mean...that stuff old men love to wear that smells like they got a liter of it for 99 cents at CVS). It was horrible. Horrible. And when he came back out from his bedroom, it was worse. It filled the house and there was no escaping it. I could see the vapors rising off him like the heat on a highway on a hot summer day.
But I didn't say anything and just kept listening to my iPod and working away like a good little Doozer.
I was enjoying a nice remix of "Kung Fu Fighting" from a UK Now compilation when suddenly Benny steps right up beside me out of nowhere. While I'm working I only listen to my iPod with one ear bud and keep the volume very low so I can still hear what's going on around me, and this big doofus still managed to sneak up on me.
He said, "This is so all the ladies will attack you today" and the next thing I knew he was spritzing me with this horrendous cologne. He sprayed me three times, right in the middle of the chest, from only about an inch away. Then he started laughing his fat head off and I was instantly pissed. My day was ruined almost before I even knew what was happening.
Immediately my head started to throb. I just looked at him like "What the..." and he continued to laugh. He looked at Dad with a "Pretty good one, huh?" kind of look and I could tell Dad was on my side.
Fortunately, we were almost finished. I was wearing three layers at the time: a long-sleeved shirt, a t-shirt on top of that, and a hoodie sweatshirt on top of that. I started taking our stuff back outside to the truck and while I was out there, took off the hoodie and the t-shirt. I threw them in the back of the truck hoping the bitter 17-degree weather would help get rid of the smell. In the meantime, I still reeked. Despite the fact that I had on three shirts when I was maced, the bottom shirt was still wet from the spray (that's how close he sprayed me).
What the freak, dude? Why would you do that? And with something that smells like liquid angst? And I just did laundry!
After we were all finished working and I had taken everything outside to the truck Dad stayed and chatted with the guy for a few minutes. I stayed outside in the cold in the hopes of diluting the smell quickly. But no such luck.
When Dad came out he jokingly told me "You're riding in the back". I was glad to know that Dad also thought that guy had been pretty rude and he started getting a headache from the smell, too. So that was nice in a misery-loves-company kind of way. All the way home we hated on the guy and I called him bad names and Dad laughed.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Revenge (The Good Kind)
As faithful readers know, while I've been here in Indiana I've been getting back into stand-up. I did two open mics at a comedy club in Ft Wayne that went really well and I was pretty happy with the audience response.
Did you ever meet someone before and get that gut feeling of Wow, this guy hates me without any reason? That's what happened when I went to this club and started dealing with the Guy in Charge. From the get-go this guy treated me pretty rudely, but I kept on my Nice Guy Face. I am aware that in comedy there is a totem pole, and guys who come in doing open mic are at the lowest spot. I don't have a problem with that; I've always been more than willing to pay my dues. I just couldn't figure out why this guy loathed me so much.
I had gone back for the second time to perform open mic. There are usually only 3 open mic slots of 5 minutes each, but one guy didn't show up. So it was me and this other guy who was also there for his second time. The Guy in Charge took us aside before the show and told the other comic "You can have 6 minutes since there's only two of you tonight. How do you want me to introduce you? Do you have any special music?" Really falling all over the guy. Then the Guy in Charge turned to me and just said, "You're on first."
I wanted to ask if I could have an extra minute, too, or at least ask why only the other guy got more time since it's the second time for both of us but this is his club and I don't want to rock the boat. Just go along with it, pay my dues, and kill the crowd in five minutes.
The Guy in Charge is also the host of the show and he got up there and bombed. Big time. I felt bad...not necessarily because I was empathizing with him but because he wasn't really warming up the crowd. But it went well, surprisingly well, and I had fun.
And that's the last time they've had me there. I've called a few times to see about getting a slot again and the Guy in Charge has refused to take or return my calls. It's just kind of got me wondering because it was without provocation. Since the first time he met me he's been like that with me and I guess it's just one of those things I'll never understand.
I once read that "Success is the best revenge" and I can definitely see that. So that's my plan. How cool would it be to get to the point in my career where they are asking me to come and perform instead of the other way around; where it's not the case that I need them? I've made it up in my mind to find out just how cool that would be. Not so I can be mean back to him or do the whole "ha ha ha ha the tables have turned" speech to him...but just to know that I could. That'd be fun.
Did you ever meet someone before and get that gut feeling of Wow, this guy hates me without any reason? That's what happened when I went to this club and started dealing with the Guy in Charge. From the get-go this guy treated me pretty rudely, but I kept on my Nice Guy Face. I am aware that in comedy there is a totem pole, and guys who come in doing open mic are at the lowest spot. I don't have a problem with that; I've always been more than willing to pay my dues. I just couldn't figure out why this guy loathed me so much.
I had gone back for the second time to perform open mic. There are usually only 3 open mic slots of 5 minutes each, but one guy didn't show up. So it was me and this other guy who was also there for his second time. The Guy in Charge took us aside before the show and told the other comic "You can have 6 minutes since there's only two of you tonight. How do you want me to introduce you? Do you have any special music?" Really falling all over the guy. Then the Guy in Charge turned to me and just said, "You're on first."
I wanted to ask if I could have an extra minute, too, or at least ask why only the other guy got more time since it's the second time for both of us but this is his club and I don't want to rock the boat. Just go along with it, pay my dues, and kill the crowd in five minutes.
The Guy in Charge is also the host of the show and he got up there and bombed. Big time. I felt bad...not necessarily because I was empathizing with him but because he wasn't really warming up the crowd. But it went well, surprisingly well, and I had fun.
And that's the last time they've had me there. I've called a few times to see about getting a slot again and the Guy in Charge has refused to take or return my calls. It's just kind of got me wondering because it was without provocation. Since the first time he met me he's been like that with me and I guess it's just one of those things I'll never understand.
I once read that "Success is the best revenge" and I can definitely see that. So that's my plan. How cool would it be to get to the point in my career where they are asking me to come and perform instead of the other way around; where it's not the case that I need them? I've made it up in my mind to find out just how cool that would be. Not so I can be mean back to him or do the whole "ha ha ha ha the tables have turned" speech to him...but just to know that I could. That'd be fun.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Too Much To Tell
I've had a busy past few days. The kind of busy where you do so much, there's too much to really tell. So, as Inigo Montoya said, "There is too much. Let me sum up."
The Belterra Casino in Southern Indiana rented the boxing ring from the boxing club Dad runs for a fight that aired on Showtime's "Friday Night Fights", so I rode down with Dad and another guy to help set up and take down the ring.
We left early Thursday morning, the fights were Friday night, and we took it down immediately afterward. We got done packing up the ring around 3:30am and left straight for home. I got back to my apartment around 9:30 Saturday morning.
My sleep schedule is still way off. Because the ring is basically a bunch of steel, I'm a little sore and achy from all of the lifting, pulling, dragging, and lugging.
I brought the notebook with me I always carry around in my back pocket and didn't find any good comedy bits per se, but did take notes on a couple of interesting anecdotes I witnessed:
*While dining in the buffet, I heard a man behind me exclaim "We're giving all our money to Iraq!!!" I turned to see who said it and sitting there was this hugely obese guy. Massive. And the first thought that popped into my head was No, you're giving all your money to Hostess.
* While in the same restaurant, I saw a morbidly obese woman (the casino was obviously full of giant people...that's what you get for opening a casino in redneck country) in a huge black and white leopard-print smock. She was eating cherry cheese cake. But not before drowning it in pepper. PEPPER. On her cheesecake. It made me shake my head.
* Because it was a Don King-sanctioned fight, there were a couple of overweight guys in bad white suits running around with Straight-from-the-Sopranos accents who loved letting people know they were from New Yawk. They loved trying to boss people around, and most people let them do it. After you set up the boxing ring, you tighten the ropes a bit and after a few hours you have to tighten them again. Knowing this, we don't tighten the ropes up as far as they can go when we first put up the ring. Mobster Wannabe #1 pulled on the ropes and started to complain they were too loose. "I work for Don King!!" he started to yell. And then he and the other Mobster Wannabe started yelling "We work for The King!! We work for The King!!" Excuse me, but there are only two people who can call themselves The King: Jesus and Elvis. Don King is not The King any more than Stephen King is. You work for the most crooked rat in the boxing business (and in my opinion, someone who dodged a murder sentence). That's not really anything to brag about. At least not if you want to impress me. In a nice bit of irony, though, I have turned their proud claim to fame into a different catchphrase of sorts. Now, when I see someone do something foolish, I shout, "I work for The King!!" Heads up, friends. You're going to hear it.
* One of the annoying things about going to boxing shows is the fact that every guy becomes a wizard of all things boxing and feels they must supply commentary to everyone around him during the fight. Hillbillies aren't good at it, as represented by this horribly mixed-up cliche one tried to get away with: "Boy, he's really clipping the sails out of him." Did he mean "he's really taking the wind out of his sails?" Or "clipping his wings?" I think what he meant to say was, "Boy, I really don't have any idea what I'm talking about."
The Belterra Casino in Southern Indiana rented the boxing ring from the boxing club Dad runs for a fight that aired on Showtime's "Friday Night Fights", so I rode down with Dad and another guy to help set up and take down the ring.
We left early Thursday morning, the fights were Friday night, and we took it down immediately afterward. We got done packing up the ring around 3:30am and left straight for home. I got back to my apartment around 9:30 Saturday morning.
My sleep schedule is still way off. Because the ring is basically a bunch of steel, I'm a little sore and achy from all of the lifting, pulling, dragging, and lugging.
I brought the notebook with me I always carry around in my back pocket and didn't find any good comedy bits per se, but did take notes on a couple of interesting anecdotes I witnessed:
*While dining in the buffet, I heard a man behind me exclaim "We're giving all our money to Iraq!!!" I turned to see who said it and sitting there was this hugely obese guy. Massive. And the first thought that popped into my head was No, you're giving all your money to Hostess.
* While in the same restaurant, I saw a morbidly obese woman (the casino was obviously full of giant people...that's what you get for opening a casino in redneck country) in a huge black and white leopard-print smock. She was eating cherry cheese cake. But not before drowning it in pepper. PEPPER. On her cheesecake. It made me shake my head.
* Because it was a Don King-sanctioned fight, there were a couple of overweight guys in bad white suits running around with Straight-from-the-Sopranos accents who loved letting people know they were from New Yawk. They loved trying to boss people around, and most people let them do it. After you set up the boxing ring, you tighten the ropes a bit and after a few hours you have to tighten them again. Knowing this, we don't tighten the ropes up as far as they can go when we first put up the ring. Mobster Wannabe #1 pulled on the ropes and started to complain they were too loose. "I work for Don King!!" he started to yell. And then he and the other Mobster Wannabe started yelling "We work for The King!! We work for The King!!" Excuse me, but there are only two people who can call themselves The King: Jesus and Elvis. Don King is not The King any more than Stephen King is. You work for the most crooked rat in the boxing business (and in my opinion, someone who dodged a murder sentence). That's not really anything to brag about. At least not if you want to impress me. In a nice bit of irony, though, I have turned their proud claim to fame into a different catchphrase of sorts. Now, when I see someone do something foolish, I shout, "I work for The King!!" Heads up, friends. You're going to hear it.
* One of the annoying things about going to boxing shows is the fact that every guy becomes a wizard of all things boxing and feels they must supply commentary to everyone around him during the fight. Hillbillies aren't good at it, as represented by this horribly mixed-up cliche one tried to get away with: "Boy, he's really clipping the sails out of him." Did he mean "he's really taking the wind out of his sails?" Or "clipping his wings?" I think what he meant to say was, "Boy, I really don't have any idea what I'm talking about."
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
His what?
Today I was at the bank and talking with my Aunt Mary, who is one of the managers there (I think that's her title). While we were yakking a truck drove by outside behind me that was in pretty bad shape; the exhaust pipe had come loose and was dragging on the ground.
Mary looked over my shoulder and said, "Hey that guy's thing is hanging out."
I turned, looked, saw the truck, and then turned back to her. "Totally not what I was expecting to see."
She thought for a beat and then got embarrassed. "That sounded bad didn't it?"
"A little bit," I said, and knew I would be writing about it here.
Mary looked over my shoulder and said, "Hey that guy's thing is hanging out."
I turned, looked, saw the truck, and then turned back to her. "Totally not what I was expecting to see."
She thought for a beat and then got embarrassed. "That sounded bad didn't it?"
"A little bit," I said, and knew I would be writing about it here.
Monday, February 26, 2007
A Friend Indeed
Without going into it too much and being too whiny, I had a bad day today. Really bad, actually. Basically, without provocation, my computer took a dump on me. Since I'm online right now it obviously wasn't a total dump, but it was enough of a dump to make me swear like Courtney Love in a No Smoking establishment. Basically the sound drive is shot which boils down to me not being able to hear sounds on my computer. It wouldn't be too bad except I can no longer hear audio to do my audio and video editing. And that sucks.
I spent the better part of the day trying to fix it and grumbling and hating life when the doorbell rang this afternoon. I was not in the mood for company. I peeked out the window and saw a UPS truck outside. I wasn't expecting anything, so I thought nothing of it until I saw the UPS guy leave my doorstep and return to his truck.
What is this? I was hoping he had inadvertently delivered a box of cash money to my doorstep and so I made my way downstairs.
There on my doorstep was a box and the return address confirmed it was from one John Allen. For those of you who don't know, I first met John when I was in Nashville working at Gotee Records; John was part of the sales team there. Like me he's a fan of movies, stand up comedy, and trivia so it goes without saying we got along well and are still good friends.
A week or so ago I posted a blog about reconfiguring the junk on my refrigerator and invited my buddies to feel free to send me something to add to the collection. John dropped me a line to let me know his son Jake was working on something for me and it would be in the mail soon.
I definitely wasn't expecting a box, though. I thought perhaps a legal-sized envelope or maybe even a Manila envelope, but definitely not a box. I giggled like an inbred monkey as I opened the box and out fell Jake's awesome picture of a purple elephant, a couple Relient K stickers, a mini-poster from the movie Amazing Grace, an autographed insert from the new Switchfoot album, and a crapload of CDs!!!!!
So thanks, John and Jake. Thanks for being so incredibly thoughtful and also for brightening my day so much, even though you didn't know how much I'd need it. It's always nice to get those little reminders of how awesome your friends are. I had a bad day and my computer still isn't fixed but thanks to my buddy John, I don't care nearly as much.
I spent the better part of the day trying to fix it and grumbling and hating life when the doorbell rang this afternoon. I was not in the mood for company. I peeked out the window and saw a UPS truck outside. I wasn't expecting anything, so I thought nothing of it until I saw the UPS guy leave my doorstep and return to his truck.
What is this? I was hoping he had inadvertently delivered a box of cash money to my doorstep and so I made my way downstairs.
There on my doorstep was a box and the return address confirmed it was from one John Allen. For those of you who don't know, I first met John when I was in Nashville working at Gotee Records; John was part of the sales team there. Like me he's a fan of movies, stand up comedy, and trivia so it goes without saying we got along well and are still good friends.
A week or so ago I posted a blog about reconfiguring the junk on my refrigerator and invited my buddies to feel free to send me something to add to the collection. John dropped me a line to let me know his son Jake was working on something for me and it would be in the mail soon.
I definitely wasn't expecting a box, though. I thought perhaps a legal-sized envelope or maybe even a Manila envelope, but definitely not a box. I giggled like an inbred monkey as I opened the box and out fell Jake's awesome picture of a purple elephant, a couple Relient K stickers, a mini-poster from the movie Amazing Grace, an autographed insert from the new Switchfoot album, and a crapload of CDs!!!!!
So thanks, John and Jake. Thanks for being so incredibly thoughtful and also for brightening my day so much, even though you didn't know how much I'd need it. It's always nice to get those little reminders of how awesome your friends are. I had a bad day and my computer still isn't fixed but thanks to my buddy John, I don't care nearly as much.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Daring to Flirt
you know me, what I'm about to tell you might come as quite a surprise. If you really know me, though, it probably won't. I've never ever openly flirted with someone before; someone I didn't know. I may have exchanged a smile or a polite hello or carried on chitchat with a cashier once or twice, but my intention is usually just to be friendly. I've never been one of those guys who can go up to a complete stranger and strike up a conversation.
The fact of the matter is, when it comes to talking to the opposite sex, I'm extremely shy. I guess I should clarify because most of my friends never see that side of me. But that's just it. You're my friends. It's strangers that I have trouble with. But if you think back very hard to the time you and I first met, you may recall that initially I was quite reserved. I have to warm up to someone and get a feel as to how much Ed they can take, I guess.
I say all that to tell you this: Today I decided I was going to openly flirt for the very first time in my thirty-six years. It all happened while I was out by myself at a Chinese restaurant. It was about 3:00, so the lunch rush was over and the dinner rush hadn't even started thinking about kicking in. I found myself entirely alone in the restaurant; not another customer in the place.
I was greeted by a cute Chinese girl who was working as hostess/waitress/manager and she had a nice smile and really pretty, dark brown eyes. I made my way to the buffet, filled up a plate, and sat down to eat. After a minute or two, she also went to the buffet, got a plate of food, and made her way to the far corner to eat. She would come over every so often to see if I needed another soda, smile, and then make her way back to her seat.
I observed her while she ate. Not in a creepy stalker way, but because it was either look at her or look at the wall. I noticed she didn't look up very often. Sometimes she would take a bite of food, swallow it, and then just kind of stare at the tabletop. I wondered what she was thinking about. And then I noticed that I was doing the same thing. I would eat a few bites of food and then find myself zoned out and staring at the empty seat across from me. I wondered if she noticed me and if she wondered what I was thinking about. Or if, in the silence of the restaurant, I just kind of melted into the background.
It was during this time I decided I would try to flirt with a stranger for the very first time. I'd never done it before, so I didn't even know if it was a power I had. I've never ever talked to a girl I thought was cute just up and out of the blue but I figured this would be as good a time as any. I was under no misconception that I would say or do something that would make her swoon and we would end up driving off into the sunset...I just wanted to see if I could. Other guys can do it, why can't I? Why haven't I?
But it had to be real; I wanted it to be genuine. I didn't want to just throw a line out there like an overeager fisherman. And I also didn't want to come off as the sleazy jerk hitting on the waitress. After all, the food there is really good and I didn't want to become "that guy."
I started to talk myself into it. Would I actually be able to go through with it? Or would it just be like every other time where I tell myself I'm going to do it and then, in the moment of truth, I chicken out? I opened my fortune cookie and it read, "Your present plans will be successful."
Cool.
I stood up and put on my jacket. She noticed me and made her way to the cash register. and I got really nervous. Doing stand-up in front of 350 strangers is cake compared to this.
And this is how it went:
Her: Was everything OK?
Me: Everything was really good.
Her: (smiles) Good.
Me: Do you mind if I ask your name?
Her: Jenny.
Me: Jenny?
Her: Yes.
Me: Jenny, you have really pretty eyes. (I didn't tell her this in a Barry White/Ladies Man-type way, but just stated it friendly and matter-of-factly like I was telling her it was a nice day outside)
Jenny looked down and didn't say anything. And then I decided I'm an ass.
Jenny counted out my change and I was filled with self-loathing. I thought everything I said came out sounding genuine (she really did have pretty eyes) and not-at-all cheesy but what do I know. I'm a big dumb guy.
She handed me my change and I thanked her. She still didn't say anything. I smiled and turned to walk out the door. As I pushed it open I heard her say "Thank you." I smiled at her, nodded, and continued out and then she said it again.
"Thank you."
Two thank yous. I guess it could have gone worse.
The fact of the matter is, when it comes to talking to the opposite sex, I'm extremely shy. I guess I should clarify because most of my friends never see that side of me. But that's just it. You're my friends. It's strangers that I have trouble with. But if you think back very hard to the time you and I first met, you may recall that initially I was quite reserved. I have to warm up to someone and get a feel as to how much Ed they can take, I guess.
I say all that to tell you this: Today I decided I was going to openly flirt for the very first time in my thirty-six years. It all happened while I was out by myself at a Chinese restaurant. It was about 3:00, so the lunch rush was over and the dinner rush hadn't even started thinking about kicking in. I found myself entirely alone in the restaurant; not another customer in the place.
I was greeted by a cute Chinese girl who was working as hostess/waitress/manager and she had a nice smile and really pretty, dark brown eyes. I made my way to the buffet, filled up a plate, and sat down to eat. After a minute or two, she also went to the buffet, got a plate of food, and made her way to the far corner to eat. She would come over every so often to see if I needed another soda, smile, and then make her way back to her seat.
I observed her while she ate. Not in a creepy stalker way, but because it was either look at her or look at the wall. I noticed she didn't look up very often. Sometimes she would take a bite of food, swallow it, and then just kind of stare at the tabletop. I wondered what she was thinking about. And then I noticed that I was doing the same thing. I would eat a few bites of food and then find myself zoned out and staring at the empty seat across from me. I wondered if she noticed me and if she wondered what I was thinking about. Or if, in the silence of the restaurant, I just kind of melted into the background.
It was during this time I decided I would try to flirt with a stranger for the very first time. I'd never done it before, so I didn't even know if it was a power I had. I've never ever talked to a girl I thought was cute just up and out of the blue but I figured this would be as good a time as any. I was under no misconception that I would say or do something that would make her swoon and we would end up driving off into the sunset...I just wanted to see if I could. Other guys can do it, why can't I? Why haven't I?
But it had to be real; I wanted it to be genuine. I didn't want to just throw a line out there like an overeager fisherman. And I also didn't want to come off as the sleazy jerk hitting on the waitress. After all, the food there is really good and I didn't want to become "that guy."
I started to talk myself into it. Would I actually be able to go through with it? Or would it just be like every other time where I tell myself I'm going to do it and then, in the moment of truth, I chicken out? I opened my fortune cookie and it read, "Your present plans will be successful."
Cool.
I stood up and put on my jacket. She noticed me and made her way to the cash register. and I got really nervous. Doing stand-up in front of 350 strangers is cake compared to this.
And this is how it went:
Her: Was everything OK?
Me: Everything was really good.
Her: (smiles) Good.
Me: Do you mind if I ask your name?
Her: Jenny.
Me: Jenny?
Her: Yes.
Me: Jenny, you have really pretty eyes. (I didn't tell her this in a Barry White/Ladies Man-type way, but just stated it friendly and matter-of-factly like I was telling her it was a nice day outside)
Jenny looked down and didn't say anything. And then I decided I'm an ass.
Jenny counted out my change and I was filled with self-loathing. I thought everything I said came out sounding genuine (she really did have pretty eyes) and not-at-all cheesy but what do I know. I'm a big dumb guy.
She handed me my change and I thanked her. She still didn't say anything. I smiled and turned to walk out the door. As I pushed it open I heard her say "Thank you." I smiled at her, nodded, and continued out and then she said it again.
"Thank you."
Two thank yous. I guess it could have gone worse.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Simon...Do We Have A Deal?
Ok, Mr. Cowell, here's my proposal:
I promise I'll keep watching American Idol if you promise you'll no longer put Paula Abdul on-camera if she's stoned out of her gourd.
Just thought I'd throw that out there.
I promise I'll keep watching American Idol if you promise you'll no longer put Paula Abdul on-camera if she's stoned out of her gourd.
Just thought I'd throw that out there.
HAPPY FEET An extensive movie review of the third animated film nominated for an Oscar
More like Crappy Feet.
Monday, February 19, 2007
August (Not In A) Rush
Almost a year ago I did some extra work on August Rush, a film starring Jonathan Rhys Myers, Keri Russell, Robin Williams, Freddie Highmore, and Terrance Howard. I spent four freeeeeeeeezing nights in Central Park from 11pm to 6am and the scenes they shot with us were some of the last scenes they were shooting.
I just checked the Internet Movie Database to see when in the world this film is coming out, as I haven't seen any trailers or anything for it. They don't have any trailers listed, no picture or image for the film, and the release date they have only says "February 2007."
What a bunch of liars.
I also looked up the only other project I worked on while in New York that still hasn't come out, a film entitled Devil You Know starring Lena Olin. Imagine my surprise when I saw that the release date was "2006" and it only played in New York City. No box office stats or anything. It is my suspicion this little gem was probably a direct-to-video deal gone awry, but I haven't been able to find anything else on it at IMDb.com or Amazon.com.
Let's go, film people. You've had a year. Ed's tired of waiting.
I just checked the Internet Movie Database to see when in the world this film is coming out, as I haven't seen any trailers or anything for it. They don't have any trailers listed, no picture or image for the film, and the release date they have only says "February 2007."
What a bunch of liars.
I also looked up the only other project I worked on while in New York that still hasn't come out, a film entitled Devil You Know starring Lena Olin. Imagine my surprise when I saw that the release date was "2006" and it only played in New York City. No box office stats or anything. It is my suspicion this little gem was probably a direct-to-video deal gone awry, but I haven't been able to find anything else on it at IMDb.com or Amazon.com.
Let's go, film people. You've had a year. Ed's tired of waiting.
Fridge Decor
This morning while waiting for my Dad to pick me up for work I decided to tidy up the decor on my refrigerator. I have two surfaces to work with...the front and one side. I put up a few things I have gathered during my time in Indiana (mostly photos of my niece and a few friends) and took down a few things as well (some recipes from Men's Health and newspaper clippings).
Because I don't have a digital camera anymore (alas and alack) I'll let you know what's what. The side of the fridge is mostly covered by a map of the NY subway system. It also contains the McBob Annual Christmas Update, a program from the National Comedy Theatre, and the cast roster from my final show at the NCT.
The front of the fridge features photos of the Sattisons, the Blowers, the McRobertses, and the Bishops. There's also a promotional postcard from the NCT and some artwork (one by my niece Valencia, and one by my buddy Adi).
I'd like more, though, so I think you should send me items (photos, something you drew, postcards, cash money) to add to the beauty. You know my address. If you don't, drop me a line. Let's turn this mother out.
Because I don't have a digital camera anymore (alas and alack) I'll let you know what's what. The side of the fridge is mostly covered by a map of the NY subway system. It also contains the McBob Annual Christmas Update, a program from the National Comedy Theatre, and the cast roster from my final show at the NCT.
The front of the fridge features photos of the Sattisons, the Blowers, the McRobertses, and the Bishops. There's also a promotional postcard from the NCT and some artwork (one by my niece Valencia, and one by my buddy Adi).
I'd like more, though, so I think you should send me items (photos, something you drew, postcards, cash money) to add to the beauty. You know my address. If you don't, drop me a line. Let's turn this mother out.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Uncle Joe's Quote of the Day - NASCAR Edition
Today I went over to my Uncle Joe and Aunt Sue's house for a fish fry. NASCAR hullabaloo was on the TV and Uncle Joe stated:
"NASCAR is just 43 hillbillies chasing a redneck."
Well put, Uncle Joe.
"NASCAR is just 43 hillbillies chasing a redneck."
Well put, Uncle Joe.
An Inconvenient Movie
An Inconvenient Truth is a movie nominated for an Oscar for Best Documentary Feature, explaining the dangers of global warming. It is produced and narrated by Al Gore. It's basically the filming of a long lecture on global warming done by Al Gore, with various shots of Al Gore in between trying to save the world.
There is a reason Al Gore has a reputation for being boring.
This movie sucks. Not because of the content, but because Al Gore bores the everliving crap out of me. I tried, I really did, to be interested and listen to the facts, but when they're being given to you by a man with as much charisma as a week-old dog turd, it's a little hard to focus and pay attention. This blog is in no way affected by my personal opinion of Al Gore. The fact of the matter is, he's freakin' boring.
Sorry. This film may have information I need to know, but I'm not getting it this way. I stopped 25 minutes into the movie and can't take any more of it. The worst part of it is the fact that this will probably win the Academy Award for its category. Not because of its brilliant and intriguing storytelling or its revelation of hidden facts, but because Al Gore is popular with Hollywood and he didn't win the presidency. I submit to the jury that the Academy Award this "film" is almost certain to win will be Al Gore's presidential consolation prize.
And I won't have any part of it. Life is too short to mix politics with pleasure. And this film isn't even pleasant.
There is a reason Al Gore has a reputation for being boring.
This movie sucks. Not because of the content, but because Al Gore bores the everliving crap out of me. I tried, I really did, to be interested and listen to the facts, but when they're being given to you by a man with as much charisma as a week-old dog turd, it's a little hard to focus and pay attention. This blog is in no way affected by my personal opinion of Al Gore. The fact of the matter is, he's freakin' boring.
Sorry. This film may have information I need to know, but I'm not getting it this way. I stopped 25 minutes into the movie and can't take any more of it. The worst part of it is the fact that this will probably win the Academy Award for its category. Not because of its brilliant and intriguing storytelling or its revelation of hidden facts, but because Al Gore is popular with Hollywood and he didn't win the presidency. I submit to the jury that the Academy Award this "film" is almost certain to win will be Al Gore's presidential consolation prize.
And I won't have any part of it. Life is too short to mix politics with pleasure. And this film isn't even pleasant.
A Week From Tonight. And I Don't Care
The Oscar Awards are next Sunday, and I honestly couldn't care less. I can't remember being less enthused for the big shoo. Maybe it's because I haven't seen many of the nominees this year. Maybe it's because I don't really want to see many of the nominees this year. Or maybe it's just because there haven't been many movies to get excited about lately.
Of the Best Picture nominees, I saw The Departed (pretty good) and Little Miss Sunshine (amazing). I know LMS isn't going to win, though, and so I honestly don't care who does.
The category I'm most excited about? Best Animated Feature. This is the category they got right this time around, as all of the movies are deserving.
Cars was my least favorite of the Pixar films (I'll be the first to admit that I equate car racing with mullets and rednecks, so it already had that going against it) but the animation in itself was amazing.
Monster House was just fun. Fun, fun, fun. I definitely liked it much more than Cars. Sorry, Pixar. You know I still love you.
I just finished watching Flushed Away and maybe it's just because it's freshest in my mind, but it is my personal favorite of the three. And I didn't even want to see it because I never got into the Wallace & Grommitt series. I know that's heresy with some people, but I just couldn't find them entertaining, and this film is by the same guy. Maybe it was because I was expecting so little that I enjoyed it so much. I laughed out loud numerous times and that's always a plus with me. Definitely the kind of movie that will need repeated viewing (and a good knowledge of European life) to catch all of the numerous jokes that are tucked away in there.
I'm sure the Oscar ceremony will be fun to watch but when all is said and done...well...let's just say Ed's not having an Oscar party this year. And if I did have one, who would show up?
This is Indiana. If there's not a ball involved, there's not much interest.
Of the Best Picture nominees, I saw The Departed (pretty good) and Little Miss Sunshine (amazing). I know LMS isn't going to win, though, and so I honestly don't care who does.
The category I'm most excited about? Best Animated Feature. This is the category they got right this time around, as all of the movies are deserving.
Cars was my least favorite of the Pixar films (I'll be the first to admit that I equate car racing with mullets and rednecks, so it already had that going against it) but the animation in itself was amazing.
Monster House was just fun. Fun, fun, fun. I definitely liked it much more than Cars. Sorry, Pixar. You know I still love you.
I just finished watching Flushed Away and maybe it's just because it's freshest in my mind, but it is my personal favorite of the three. And I didn't even want to see it because I never got into the Wallace & Grommitt series. I know that's heresy with some people, but I just couldn't find them entertaining, and this film is by the same guy. Maybe it was because I was expecting so little that I enjoyed it so much. I laughed out loud numerous times and that's always a plus with me. Definitely the kind of movie that will need repeated viewing (and a good knowledge of European life) to catch all of the numerous jokes that are tucked away in there.
I'm sure the Oscar ceremony will be fun to watch but when all is said and done...well...let's just say Ed's not having an Oscar party this year. And if I did have one, who would show up?
This is Indiana. If there's not a ball involved, there's not much interest.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
No Doves for Me
Still looking back at my old emails from my expired email account and found this little gem. I sent this to Missy Zahn at the Gospel Music Association in February 2004. Her response is below.
From: ED
Sent: Wednesday, February 25, 2004 2:28 PM
To: Undisclosed-Recipient:;
Subject: TOP 10 REASONS WHY I, ED PLACENCIA, SHOULD HOST THE 2004 DOVE AWARDS
10. Experience in improv will come in handy when Carman rushes the stage
9. Would never pronounce Jaci Velasquez "Mizz...Valice-gezz"
8. I'm often mistaken as the 6th Katina
7. Would invite Out of Eden on-stage for a DDR Max Dance competition
6. Promise to keep the Steven-Curtis-wearing-a-kimono jokes to a minimum
5. Would never think of opening the show with a song and dance number like that hack Billy Crystal
4. When's the last time a Mexican stepped foot on stage at the Doves? (besides Salvador)
3. Halfway through the show, we vote one of the Avalon members off the island
2. Will maintain my court-ordered 20-yard distance from Mac Powell at all times
1. It's 2004. Let's shake things up.
From: Missy Zahn
To: ED
Sent: Wednesday, February 25, 2004 3:49 PM
Subject: RE: TOP 10 REASONS WHY I, ED PLACENCIA, SHOULD HOST THE 2004 DOVE AWARDS
Very creative! We enjoyed the ideas. I'll forward it to our producers =)
Missy
Needless to say, I never heard back from "the producers." And as I think about it, I don't think they actually ever existed.
From: ED
Sent: Wednesday, February 25, 2004 2:28 PM
To: Undisclosed-Recipient:;
Subject: TOP 10 REASONS WHY I, ED PLACENCIA, SHOULD HOST THE 2004 DOVE AWARDS
TOP 10 REASONS WHY I, ED PLACENCIA, SHOULD HOST THE 2004 DOVE AWARDS
10. Experience in improv will come in handy when Carman rushes the stage
9. Would never pronounce Jaci Velasquez "Mizz...Valice-gezz"
8. I'm often mistaken as the 6th Katina
7. Would invite Out of Eden on-stage for a DDR Max Dance competition
6. Promise to keep the Steven-Curtis-wearing-a-kimono jokes to a minimum
5. Would never think of opening the show with a song and dance number like that hack Billy Crystal
4. When's the last time a Mexican stepped foot on stage at the Doves? (besides Salvador)
3. Halfway through the show, we vote one of the Avalon members off the island
2. Will maintain my court-ordered 20-yard distance from Mac Powell at all times
1. It's 2004. Let's shake things up.
From: Missy Zahn
To: ED
Sent: Wednesday, February 25, 2004 3:49 PM
Subject: RE: TOP 10 REASONS WHY I, ED PLACENCIA, SHOULD HOST THE 2004 DOVE AWARDS
Very creative! We enjoyed the ideas. I'll forward it to our producers =)
Missy
Needless to say, I never heard back from "the producers." And as I think about it, I don't think they actually ever existed.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Pop Culture Hurts My Head
If you're not familiar with VH1's World Series of Pop Culture, it's basically just what it sounds like. A quiz show about pop culture. And I often found myself shouting answers at the screen and not believing these people actually made it onto the show.
Thanks to a "heads up" from mi amiga Libby, I was able to partake in an online test tonight to try to qualify to become a contestant on the show. It was a timed test with six sections. They would be taking the people who scored in the top 5 percent and then choosing 50 contestants at random from that pool.
I just finished taking the test. My head hurts. The questions were much harder than I remember them being on TV, but I guess it has to be like that to weed out the chaff. My worst section of the test was a portion where they take a movie or episode of a TV show and give you a basic summary of the plot and you have to choose the one word in the paragraph that is wrong. Much to my chagrin, they gave summaries of TV shows I didn't watch (Cheers, Saved by the Bell, Ally McBeal) and movies I had no time for (Broadcast News, Boogie Nights). Thankfully that portion was multiple choice. I'll tell you right now, if I don't win, I know what section was my downfall.
The other five sections I rocked in. I mean for real. I honestly don't think I missed any other questions. I knew the lyrics to the theme from Growing Pains, I knew that Benicio Del Toro was in Big Top Pee Wee, I knew the lyrics to Pink's "Get this Party Started", I knew the original band name of R.E.M., and I knew how many fingers Homer Simpson has on both hands (including thumbs).
So if they pick me, cool. If not, that's cool too. I'm not expecting anything at all, but those of you who know me know how much I love trivia, so it was a nice little diversion and something to do. Now I'm just waiting 10 more minutes so I can watch "Lost" (I had to turn off the TV so as not to be distracted, thus I was unable to watch the episode as it aired and will have to resort to watching it recorded via VHS).
I know what you're thinking, and you're right. Libby and I both stayed inside on Valentine's Day to take an internet quiz and then watch "Lost."
Alone.
That's right. We are the coolest people ever.
Thanks to a "heads up" from mi amiga Libby, I was able to partake in an online test tonight to try to qualify to become a contestant on the show. It was a timed test with six sections. They would be taking the people who scored in the top 5 percent and then choosing 50 contestants at random from that pool.
I just finished taking the test. My head hurts. The questions were much harder than I remember them being on TV, but I guess it has to be like that to weed out the chaff. My worst section of the test was a portion where they take a movie or episode of a TV show and give you a basic summary of the plot and you have to choose the one word in the paragraph that is wrong. Much to my chagrin, they gave summaries of TV shows I didn't watch (Cheers, Saved by the Bell, Ally McBeal) and movies I had no time for (Broadcast News, Boogie Nights). Thankfully that portion was multiple choice. I'll tell you right now, if I don't win, I know what section was my downfall.
The other five sections I rocked in. I mean for real. I honestly don't think I missed any other questions. I knew the lyrics to the theme from Growing Pains, I knew that Benicio Del Toro was in Big Top Pee Wee, I knew the lyrics to Pink's "Get this Party Started", I knew the original band name of R.E.M., and I knew how many fingers Homer Simpson has on both hands (including thumbs).
So if they pick me, cool. If not, that's cool too. I'm not expecting anything at all, but those of you who know me know how much I love trivia, so it was a nice little diversion and something to do. Now I'm just waiting 10 more minutes so I can watch "Lost" (I had to turn off the TV so as not to be distracted, thus I was unable to watch the episode as it aired and will have to resort to watching it recorded via VHS).
I know what you're thinking, and you're right. Libby and I both stayed inside on Valentine's Day to take an internet quiz and then watch "Lost."
Alone.
That's right. We are the coolest people ever.
Phone Calls to Make One's Day
Two phone calls today.
The first was a conference call with Julie, Libby, and Tom. I hadn't spoken on the phone to Julie & Libby since my old radio promoter days and had almost forgotten how much fun they are. It was my first time speaking with Tom and the three of them together was a good time indeed. It was the next best thing to hanging out in person with three people who love to joke around and laugh.
A couple of hours later I called back to wish Libby a Happy Valentine's Day. We ended up talking about everything from Hurricane Katrina to the VH1 World Series of Pop Culture and everything else in between. It was a good time indeed.
If you have a friend you haven't spoken to in a long time and/or have fallen out of touch with, I highly recommend giving them a buzz or dropping them a line. It'll do your heart good and bring on the smiles.
The first was a conference call with Julie, Libby, and Tom. I hadn't spoken on the phone to Julie & Libby since my old radio promoter days and had almost forgotten how much fun they are. It was my first time speaking with Tom and the three of them together was a good time indeed. It was the next best thing to hanging out in person with three people who love to joke around and laugh.
A couple of hours later I called back to wish Libby a Happy Valentine's Day. We ended up talking about everything from Hurricane Katrina to the VH1 World Series of Pop Culture and everything else in between. It was a good time indeed.
If you have a friend you haven't spoken to in a long time and/or have fallen out of touch with, I highly recommend giving them a buzz or dropping them a line. It'll do your heart good and bring on the smiles.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
White Night
I was just finishing up some radio spots for my pal Lisa and happened to notice the clock. I couldn't believe it was past 11 since it's still light outside the window. Or at least I thought it was. It's actually just snowing so much that the sky is an almost luminescent white color, as is everything else outside that is covered with snow.
Weird. Definitely not looking forward to going out in this stuff tomorrow.
Weird. Definitely not looking forward to going out in this stuff tomorrow.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
My Secret Admirer!
Yesterday I found a plastic bag hanging on my front door. Inside were six huge heart-shaped cookies covered in frosting and pink sprinkles.
And that was it. No note. No clues. Who would leave me such a treat? Is it possible someone has had their eye on me and my horrible male radar never picked up on it?
The plastic bag was from Meijer, a grocery store chain in this area...but not one near my house. So it had to have been someone who goes to Ft Wayne to do shopping. But who?
I have to admit, my first thought was the girl I blogged about last week and I really didn't want that to be the case. Really really. I put the bag of cookies on my kitchen table and decided not to eat them for fear they would be poisoned with craziness.
Later that day I was at a basketball game and my sister-in-law Piper asked me if I got the cookies my mom dropped off for me.
Mom.
How quickly I forget that I am back home again.
On one hand I was happy because they were from Mom and that meant I could eat the cookies. On the other hand, it meant they were from Mom, and not from Jennifer Aniston.
And that was it. No note. No clues. Who would leave me such a treat? Is it possible someone has had their eye on me and my horrible male radar never picked up on it?
The plastic bag was from Meijer, a grocery store chain in this area...but not one near my house. So it had to have been someone who goes to Ft Wayne to do shopping. But who?
I have to admit, my first thought was the girl I blogged about last week and I really didn't want that to be the case. Really really. I put the bag of cookies on my kitchen table and decided not to eat them for fear they would be poisoned with craziness.
Later that day I was at a basketball game and my sister-in-law Piper asked me if I got the cookies my mom dropped off for me.
Mom.
How quickly I forget that I am back home again.
On one hand I was happy because they were from Mom and that meant I could eat the cookies. On the other hand, it meant they were from Mom, and not from Jennifer Aniston.
Calling Me Be My Wrong Name
A few people recently have asked me if they should call me Ed or Eddie. For most of you who live out-of-state, that's never been a problem. You know me by one of those names and that's all you ever hear people call me. But here at home, it is a bit of a dilemma.
I'll try to explain. Most people who have known me since childhood call me Eddie. My family (except Dad, who's pretty much always called me Ed), my friends, and people I went to school with. But now when I meet people I introduce myself as Ed. And when they get near my family, that's when the confusion starts because they hear everyone else calling me Eddie. And then they ask me which I prefer.
I guess I don't really have a preference. Whatever you call me is what you call me. But when you call me by the name you don't usually use, that's when it sounds weird. And a couple of times I've actually caught myself signing an email or message with the wrong name and gone back to correct it, most recently with Julie and Libby. So if I ever sign the wrong name when I write you, please forgive me. Sometimes it's hard to remember who calls me what.
All of my friends in Pennsylvania call me Eddie. When I was on the air there, that's the name I went by and how I came to be known. But if someone from PA would call me Ed, that would just sound weird. Likewise if my Nashville or New York friends were to call me Eddie. It just doesn't fit.
So Ed...Eddie...it doesn't much matter. Just pick one and stick with it. But ladies, you can still call me Pablo.
I'll try to explain. Most people who have known me since childhood call me Eddie. My family (except Dad, who's pretty much always called me Ed), my friends, and people I went to school with. But now when I meet people I introduce myself as Ed. And when they get near my family, that's when the confusion starts because they hear everyone else calling me Eddie. And then they ask me which I prefer.
I guess I don't really have a preference. Whatever you call me is what you call me. But when you call me by the name you don't usually use, that's when it sounds weird. And a couple of times I've actually caught myself signing an email or message with the wrong name and gone back to correct it, most recently with Julie and Libby. So if I ever sign the wrong name when I write you, please forgive me. Sometimes it's hard to remember who calls me what.
All of my friends in Pennsylvania call me Eddie. When I was on the air there, that's the name I went by and how I came to be known. But if someone from PA would call me Ed, that would just sound weird. Likewise if my Nashville or New York friends were to call me Eddie. It just doesn't fit.
So Ed...Eddie...it doesn't much matter. Just pick one and stick with it. But ladies, you can still call me Pablo.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Oh....
Today I went to a high school basketball game and learned what to do and what not to do the next time I am invited to sing the National Anthem at a sporting event.
1. Do not forget the words or sing the same verse twice.
2. If you happen to forget step 1 and sing the wrong words, be sure to take the microphone away from your mouth before pausing....waiting...and then mumbling "Oh....crap."
1. Do not forget the words or sing the same verse twice.
2. If you happen to forget step 1 and sing the wrong words, be sure to take the microphone away from your mouth before pausing....waiting...and then mumbling "Oh....crap."
Friday, February 09, 2007
"The Failures of Ed" Update
Just an update to let you know the status of the short film I mentioned I was working on last week. Instead of boring you with a summary, I find bullet points are much more exciting!!
* This film will debut the name of my new production company. The name won't mean anything to anyone except for those people who know their History of Ed. One of the pictures in my MySpace photos is labeled "Garrett, August 1980." If you know the story behind that photo, then the name might make sense. Otherwise...just another production company.
* Seven scenes have been shot. Total running time so far is 2m40s.
* Another cameo appearance by a former co-worker of mine at WJTL.
* Shooting will continue in downtown Auburn IN this weekend.
* Only one scene (so far) has dialog.
* A friend has been contacted about writing original music for the short film but nothing has been confirmed, thus I shall refrain from naming names.
So there you go. Some leaks directly from the set to my favorite friends in the whole wide world. Do with this info what you will (i.e. notify Entertainment Tonight and Lorne Michaels and Marci Klein at Saturday Night Live).
More to follow...
* This film will debut the name of my new production company. The name won't mean anything to anyone except for those people who know their History of Ed. One of the pictures in my MySpace photos is labeled "Garrett, August 1980." If you know the story behind that photo, then the name might make sense. Otherwise...just another production company.
* Seven scenes have been shot. Total running time so far is 2m40s.
* Another cameo appearance by a former co-worker of mine at WJTL.
* Shooting will continue in downtown Auburn IN this weekend.
* Only one scene (so far) has dialog.
* A friend has been contacted about writing original music for the short film but nothing has been confirmed, thus I shall refrain from naming names.
So there you go. Some leaks directly from the set to my favorite friends in the whole wide world. Do with this info what you will (i.e. notify Entertainment Tonight and Lorne Michaels and Marci Klein at Saturday Night Live).
More to follow...
Who ARE these people?
People are spying on me. And I wish they had the guts to step forward and identify themselves instead of lurking in the background.
Ramblings of a paranoid delusionsal? Not this time.
I have that little Trakzor thing that monitors who visits my MySpace page, when they visit, and where they're from. Trakzor doesn't tell me who visits, but because it tells me what time they visit and what city they're in, using a little detective work I can usually figure it who it is. For example, my brother left me a comment last week. So I went to see what time he left the comment and checked with Trakzor to see who visited my page at that time. Sure enough it said someone from Garrett visited me at the same time, so I was able to identify him.
But there are a couple of people who visit my page on a regular basis who for some reason have refused to ever contact me or leave me a message. And so now it's time I call them out:
Ft Wayne, In: Someone from Ft Wayne visited my page 3 times so far today: at 8:21am, 1:25pm, and 4:02pm. This person visits my page on average about 4 times a day. Every day.
Charlotte, TN: This person doesn't visit as much as the person from Ft wayne, but still....they visit a lot. And I have no idea where Charlotte is, which is why this one always stood out.
Nashville, TN: This mystery person has slowed down ther visits as of late, but at one point it got me very curious. They were visiting sometimes as often as 8 times a day. They usually visit bewteen midnight and 1am.
Mesa, AZ: I actually think this person who also usually visits me late at night is my cousin Rich. But he never leaves me a message so I can't be sure. Rich, if you read this, step up, bro.
As for the rest of you...who are you? And why don't you ever message me? There's something that brings you back day in and day out, but apparently nothing intriguing enough to inspire you to come out from behind your mouse pad and 'fess up. I have some suspiscions and some theories, but they're just that.
Come on. stand up and be counted. I double dog dare ya.
Ramblings of a paranoid delusionsal? Not this time.
I have that little Trakzor thing that monitors who visits my MySpace page, when they visit, and where they're from. Trakzor doesn't tell me who visits, but because it tells me what time they visit and what city they're in, using a little detective work I can usually figure it who it is. For example, my brother left me a comment last week. So I went to see what time he left the comment and checked with Trakzor to see who visited my page at that time. Sure enough it said someone from Garrett visited me at the same time, so I was able to identify him.
But there are a couple of people who visit my page on a regular basis who for some reason have refused to ever contact me or leave me a message. And so now it's time I call them out:
Ft Wayne, In: Someone from Ft Wayne visited my page 3 times so far today: at 8:21am, 1:25pm, and 4:02pm. This person visits my page on average about 4 times a day. Every day.
Charlotte, TN: This person doesn't visit as much as the person from Ft wayne, but still....they visit a lot. And I have no idea where Charlotte is, which is why this one always stood out.
Nashville, TN: This mystery person has slowed down ther visits as of late, but at one point it got me very curious. They were visiting sometimes as often as 8 times a day. They usually visit bewteen midnight and 1am.
Mesa, AZ: I actually think this person who also usually visits me late at night is my cousin Rich. But he never leaves me a message so I can't be sure. Rich, if you read this, step up, bro.
As for the rest of you...who are you? And why don't you ever message me? There's something that brings you back day in and day out, but apparently nothing intriguing enough to inspire you to come out from behind your mouse pad and 'fess up. I have some suspiscions and some theories, but they're just that.
Come on. stand up and be counted. I double dog dare ya.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
The Balance of Anna and Indy
There are some people who maintain the belief that there is only so much good and evil in the universe, only a certain amount of room to hold these two entities, and it is the job of the universe to uphold that balance. Many people who hold this belief are a little...I don't know, let's say "touched." Johnny Depp's character in Once Upon A Time In Mexico is a prime example. At a Mexican restaurant he enjoys a dish (Puerco Pibil, in case you're interested. And yes, I know how to make it) that is so good he feels the only way to balance it out is to kill the chef. Something as extraordinary as this pork dish cannot exist in the world without something else good in the world paying the price for it.
I'm not trying to be offensive or insensitive. It's not my intention to say something controversial just to say it and be controversial. But I have to be honest with you, my friends and faithful readers, when I say I was reminded of the balance between good and...not so good today when I saw two very different headlines. It was honestly the first thing that came to mind. I shall present the headlines to you and then let you be the judge on whether or not there really is a battle for this balance being fought.
"Anna Nicole Smith found dead."
"Release date for 4th Indiana Jones movie announced."
Balance, people. It's all about balance.
I'm not trying to be offensive or insensitive. It's not my intention to say something controversial just to say it and be controversial. But I have to be honest with you, my friends and faithful readers, when I say I was reminded of the balance between good and...not so good today when I saw two very different headlines. It was honestly the first thing that came to mind. I shall present the headlines to you and then let you be the judge on whether or not there really is a battle for this balance being fought.
"Anna Nicole Smith found dead."
"Release date for 4th Indiana Jones movie announced."
Balance, people. It's all about balance.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Snubbed!!!
Maybe you didn't notice, but one of the films nominated for an Academy Award this year in the Best Costume Design category is The Devil Wears Prada. And maybe you also didn't notice I was in that film. Granted, it takes a freeze frame to see me, but I was in it nonetheless. And since I was required to bring my own wardrobe to the four scenes I was in, I feel it only fair that I should have been listed as one of the nominees. Right? I mean, if I wore my own clothes, thus adding to the feel of the film, and the film in turn gets recognized for everyone's clothes, am I not due an equal opportunity to bring home a gold statue? Or at the very least attend the ceremony?
Alas, as of this writing I have not received an invitation to the awards presentation. I'm not holding out hope. And something tells me I also shouldn't expect to be thanked in the acceptance speech should Prada win in this category.
But it's OK. Really. It's an honor just to not be nominated.
LOST is found
Don't worry. If you live on the West Coast and haven't seen tonight's episode of "Lost" yet, I'm not going to ruin anything for you. But I will say this:
I was really disappointed in the third season. The first two seasons kicked my butt and I couldn't get enough. With season three, it felt like not only were they not giving enough, but they weren't giving anything. After a long hiatus, the show is back and, in my humble opinion, back on track.
I'm not going to over-hype it and say it was the best episode ever. I'm just going to say I'm excited to find out what happens next. Finally.
I was really disappointed in the third season. The first two seasons kicked my butt and I couldn't get enough. With season three, it felt like not only were they not giving enough, but they weren't giving anything. After a long hiatus, the show is back and, in my humble opinion, back on track.
I'm not going to over-hype it and say it was the best episode ever. I'm just going to say I'm excited to find out what happens next. Finally.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Warning
There's a very comforting ad on TV for Lunestra featuring a magical butterfly. It's one of those new cool drugs to help you fall asleep. And, as is always the case, it comes with a long list of side effects (that don't seem nearly as bad when read to you in a gentle narrator's voice). Next time you see the commercial, pay attention; I'm not making this up. One of the side effects for this pill designed to help you fall asleep is -- ready for this? -- drowsiness. Careful, people, this sleeping pill might make you feel tired.
Hey, Lunestra company! You're idiots! Idiots!!
Hey, Lunestra company! You're idiots! Idiots!!
Brad Moist would be proud
When I was working at Gotee Records I had the pleasure of working with a guy named Brad Moist. Brad, for those of you who don't know, is the king of air guitar. He always had music coming from his desk and whether you were passing by on your way to the back room or he was wandering the office, he was usually armed with his air guitar./
One of my little quirks you may (or may not) have noticed if you've spent any time around me is how easily I absorb little quirks from people I hang around with. I got "Good night" from Jack in Atlanta, overuse of the word "embrace" from Phil in Lancaster, "Duuuuude" from my Uncle John in California, "I know!" and "Iiieeee!" from JT and Chris in New York (respectively), and I got my air guitar from Brad in Nashville. ..
Work lately here in Indiana has been slow and when work gets slow, that means money gets tight. And when money gets tight, I whip out Guitar Hero 2 for the PS2. Not only is it good at keeping me inside and not spending money (which is easy to do around here since there's nothing to do in Auburn except spending money), it also helps me perfect my air guitar abilities.
For those of you familiar with the game, not only have I gotten five stars on every song on the easy and medium levels, but have gotten five gold stars (which means a 100% perfect performance) on the entire easy level and nearly all of the medium level.
What, you may ask, is a Guitar Hero? You're lookin' at one.
One of my little quirks you may (or may not) have noticed if you've spent any time around me is how easily I absorb little quirks from people I hang around with. I got "Good night" from Jack in Atlanta, overuse of the word "embrace" from Phil in Lancaster, "Duuuuude" from my Uncle John in California, "I know!" and "Iiieeee!" from JT and Chris in New York (respectively), and I got my air guitar from Brad in Nashville. ..
Work lately here in Indiana has been slow and when work gets slow, that means money gets tight. And when money gets tight, I whip out Guitar Hero 2 for the PS2. Not only is it good at keeping me inside and not spending money (which is easy to do around here since there's nothing to do in Auburn except spending money), it also helps me perfect my air guitar abilities.
For those of you familiar with the game, not only have I gotten five stars on every song on the easy and medium levels, but have gotten five gold stars (which means a 100% perfect performance) on the entire easy level and nearly all of the medium level.
What, you may ask, is a Guitar Hero? You're lookin' at one.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
YEA, COLTS!!!!
I can hear you now. "What? Ed's blogging about sports?" Well, I must admit, I'm very glad the Colts won. Not necessarily because I'm a huge fan of them or the sport, but because my brother is, and when they lose, he's no fun to be around.
So way to go Colts!! That means Ray will be enjoyable for the next few weeks!
So way to go Colts!! That means Ray will be enjoyable for the next few weeks!
BOO!!!!
How have I only today discovered the TV show, "Ghost Hunters?" Probably because it's on the SciFi Channel and I'm not a geek.
I was flipping through channels this afternoon, caught part of an episode, and was hooked. And wouldn't you know it, it was part of an all-day "Ghost Hunters" marathon!!
I've never seen a ghost and can't say I believe in them, but I've always wanted to see one. So to live vicariously through these guys who go from place to place trying to disprove the fact that places are haunted (and sometimes coming away with some pretty startling footage), it was a fun afternoon/evening.
The marathon ended with an episode about the guys traveling to Ireland to investigate a castle that was built in the year 400 AD and is reportedly home to over 20 ghosts. By the end of the hour I was more than a little spooked.
Good times! Where do I sign up?
I was flipping through channels this afternoon, caught part of an episode, and was hooked. And wouldn't you know it, it was part of an all-day "Ghost Hunters" marathon!!
I've never seen a ghost and can't say I believe in them, but I've always wanted to see one. So to live vicariously through these guys who go from place to place trying to disprove the fact that places are haunted (and sometimes coming away with some pretty startling footage), it was a fun afternoon/evening.
The marathon ended with an episode about the guys traveling to Ireland to investigate a castle that was built in the year 400 AD and is reportedly home to over 20 ghosts. By the end of the hour I was more than a little spooked.
Good times! Where do I sign up?
Saturday, February 03, 2007
-4??
I just happened to look down at the thermometer and noticed that it's -4 degrees here in Indiana right now. That's a four with a dash in front of it. As in freezing, minus 36 degrees.
Someone please remind me why I came back to Indiana. In the meantime, I won't be leaving the house until June.
Someone please remind me why I came back to Indiana. In the meantime, I won't be leaving the house until June.
"The Failures of Ed"
Just a heads up to let you know tonight I began shooting my latest short film, tentatively titled The Failures of Ed. It'll be a comedic short (of course) and I'll be posting it at a secret location online when it is complete.
If you'd like me to let you know where to find it, leave me a comment here or drop me a line and I'll make sure you're in The Loop.
You heard it here first.
If you'd like me to let you know where to find it, leave me a comment here or drop me a line and I'll make sure you're in The Loop.
You heard it here first.
Friday, February 02, 2007
A PRAYER FOR 2007
Dear God/Buddha/Allah/Great Spirit/Higher Being/Tom Cruise,
I have so many things to thank you for. Not only for revealing your true self to me, but for the many different ways you have chosen to make yourself known. The Bible. The Torah. The Koran. The magical book written in stone that you need those special glasses for to read. And L Ron Hubbard.
I come to you with a humble heart. But not so humble that I forsake my identity as the true goddess I am. Thank you for helping me see I am a goddess and also for the beads and jewelry that direct my inner chi and focus my energy and aura. Thank you also for making auras different colors so I can tell what mood I am in.
Thank you for the Tao. Doing nothing for you is so much easier than doing something.
Thank you for the Kabbalah and for making it cool to believe in a religion. Thank you for using Madonna as a vessel to make my faith fashionable. Thanks also for the fact that not only is my religion cool, but it also comes with nifty bracelets.
Thank you for Mother Earth and all of her wonder. Thank you for helping me realize that not only is nature important in the circle of life, but a single blade of grass is more important than I am.
I thank you, Mighty Creator, that you are the parent I always wished I had and that your gender is determined by the latest majority outlook.
I thank you for Jesus, who may or may not have existed and whose possible sacrifice doesn't necessarily ensure my salvation unless that's what I choose to believe as long as it doesn't encroach upon the beliefs of others around me or offend them in any way, in which case I thank you for the possibility of Jesus who was definitely maybe more than a prophet and good man but not in a threatening way. Thank you for putting the "Christ" in Christmas and thank you for letting us take him back out if that's not what we're into.
Finally, thank you most of all for the freedom you've given me and how I choose to believe in you. I know that it's not necessarily what I believe in that counts; just the fact that I believe something is good enough. And if, somehow, I have strayed from your purpose and intent I ask that you show me the way. Just as long as it's not any different from the way I'm already doing it.
Amen.
I have so many things to thank you for. Not only for revealing your true self to me, but for the many different ways you have chosen to make yourself known. The Bible. The Torah. The Koran. The magical book written in stone that you need those special glasses for to read. And L Ron Hubbard.
I come to you with a humble heart. But not so humble that I forsake my identity as the true goddess I am. Thank you for helping me see I am a goddess and also for the beads and jewelry that direct my inner chi and focus my energy and aura. Thank you also for making auras different colors so I can tell what mood I am in.
Thank you for the Tao. Doing nothing for you is so much easier than doing something.
Thank you for the Kabbalah and for making it cool to believe in a religion. Thank you for using Madonna as a vessel to make my faith fashionable. Thanks also for the fact that not only is my religion cool, but it also comes with nifty bracelets.
Thank you for Mother Earth and all of her wonder. Thank you for helping me realize that not only is nature important in the circle of life, but a single blade of grass is more important than I am.
I thank you, Mighty Creator, that you are the parent I always wished I had and that your gender is determined by the latest majority outlook.
I thank you for Jesus, who may or may not have existed and whose possible sacrifice doesn't necessarily ensure my salvation unless that's what I choose to believe as long as it doesn't encroach upon the beliefs of others around me or offend them in any way, in which case I thank you for the possibility of Jesus who was definitely maybe more than a prophet and good man but not in a threatening way. Thank you for putting the "Christ" in Christmas and thank you for letting us take him back out if that's not what we're into.
Finally, thank you most of all for the freedom you've given me and how I choose to believe in you. I know that it's not necessarily what I believe in that counts; just the fact that I believe something is good enough. And if, somehow, I have strayed from your purpose and intent I ask that you show me the way. Just as long as it's not any different from the way I'm already doing it.
Amen.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Helplessly Empathetic
As much as I hate being bummed out and having a crappy day, I hate it more when it happens to my friends. I find it frustrating when I want to say some magical combination of words that will make everything better, put it all into perspective, and the hurting will instantly end.
But that never happens. Never.
So the only other thing I think of to do is just kind of wait and try to be there for them. Sometimes that's all a person needs, but it doesn't always feel like I'm helping out much.
But that never happens. Never.
So the only other thing I think of to do is just kind of wait and try to be there for them. Sometimes that's all a person needs, but it doesn't always feel like I'm helping out much.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
THAT'S your slogan???
I was watching television today and a commercial came on for zit cream. With so much going on in our lives, advertisers have to get our attention as soon as they can and this product had an interesting way of going about it. The opening line in the commercial was, and I quote:
"It's hard to face your problem, when your problem is your face."
That's not an ad slogan. That's something my brother would say to me.
Well done, Madison Avenue. Well done.
"It's hard to face your problem, when your problem is your face."
That's not an ad slogan. That's something my brother would say to me.
Well done, Madison Avenue. Well done.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Um...Thanks, But No Thanks, Sundance
Right now the Sundance Film Festival is going on out west. It's something I've always been very interested in and it's always been a small dream of mine to take part one day.
You can imagine my excitement when I heard they were putting all of the short films in this year's festival online to watch for free. Way to go, Sundance! I decided since I didn't have any plans for the evening I would stay home and watch Sundance movies and feel like I was in on something cool.
I watched five of them, chosen at random, and I think I'm done watching Sundance movies. Let me put it this way: If I ever tell you I have a short film that has been accepted into and will be viewed at Sundance, it basically means I've made a horribly boring, non-sensical, "look how arty I am" steaming pile of crap. With bad acting.
What a letdown. I might as well have re-watched Lady in the Water. At least then I would have known going into it that my time was going to be majorly wasted.
You can imagine my excitement when I heard they were putting all of the short films in this year's festival online to watch for free. Way to go, Sundance! I decided since I didn't have any plans for the evening I would stay home and watch Sundance movies and feel like I was in on something cool.
I watched five of them, chosen at random, and I think I'm done watching Sundance movies. Let me put it this way: If I ever tell you I have a short film that has been accepted into and will be viewed at Sundance, it basically means I've made a horribly boring, non-sensical, "look how arty I am" steaming pile of crap. With bad acting.
What a letdown. I might as well have re-watched Lady in the Water. At least then I would have known going into it that my time was going to be majorly wasted.
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