2.22.2010

Sleep, Perchance To Dream...Then Perchance To Die By Sniper Fire


2.22.10
3:24 pm
So, I am in the process of getting sick.
Last night, with the help of my Beloved, I consumed a whole bulb of garlic, most of a bag of spinach and about three pounds of fresh ginger soaked with lemon Zinger.
When I get sick/am sick, I tend to have very fitful, realistic dreams.
I had two that I remember last night, one involved being unable to shut my computer down for the numerous fake virus warnings I kept getting.
The computer was unable to heal itself for the attacks coming in.
The whole thing spoke very clearly of frustration and insurmountable difficulties.
It was annoying as hell and it kept me awake, not fully, just in that place of no sleep where you lay down and just...lie there.
The other, brought on no doubt, by the HOURS of Uncharted 2 Multiplayer I've been playing, involved walking down a street in Manhattan with my sister and noticing a red beam of light resting on a man about ten feet in front of us, then a crack, then the man falls.
I reported the building's address to the police and they, apparently, arrested the sniper.
But, going down that street later, there were DOZENS of red beams cutting through the air and me and two nameless, faceless yet dedicated friends went to find the real sniper, who had escaped.
We broke into this woman's apartment and found him there and fought him and got all cut up in the process, then we followed him to some lab where we really beat him this time and I had a cut across the underside of my fingers and the woman whose apartment we broke into bandaged it up, but I bled through it.
Man.
I love how my dreams are so unintelligible to anyone but me.
And, upon rereading this, unintelligible even to me.
I am a stew of fucked up at the moment.
Enjoy my carrots.
Oh, I also watched the latest Coen Bros. movie, "A Serious Man".
I think if I were orthodox Jewish and 41 years old, I'd have enjoyed it more.

2.19.2010

Deeez Nutmeg


2.19.10
3:59 pm
Surprisingly good day thus far.
Had an audition at Nutmeg, a place I hate because it's always peopled by "those" actors.
You know.
One guy comes in and sees the other guy:
1: Uh oh, looks like they'll let ANYONE in here!
Subtext: Hey everyone! Look at me!
2: Oh boy! Cancel the audition, __________ is here!
Subtext: Great, this asshole.
1: Hey, man, how ya been?
Subtext: Then YOU'LL have to ask ME!!!!!!!!!!
2: Good good, how about you?
Subtext: He is just going to start jerking off aaaany minute now...
1: Oh good good, did that thing in _____.
Subtext: ME! ME! MEMEME!!!!!!
2: Really? Wow...
Subtext: You. Lucky. Fuckrag.
1: Yeah, yeah, _______ was the director.
Subtext: MEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
2: Wow! Hey, that's awesome, that is awesome. Congrats! You gotta geta copy of that man, and like, tell all the agents and stuff...
Subtext: I wish you cancer of the AIDS of the eyes.
1. Yeah, so, you know, it was a pretty good deal.
Subtext: I came.
That was pretty much verbatim.
This is the same casting house where, another time, this guy just started, ostensibly, reading his resume and talking about how great his summer was because of all the gigs he booked and how well they paid etc.
Pure dick move, psych-out bullshit.
Cool thing is?
The psych-out stuff doesn't work on me, because, unlike on-screen stuff, talent is what gets jobs, not whipping you dick out and rubbing money and bookings all over it.
They just sickens people.
Anyway, the copy was for some financial thing, very typical, direction was: "warm, empathetic, confident, but not arrogant", almost the trite and true Comcast formula, very straightforward.
And I fucking put it in and broke it off on this one.
I'd been warmed up so my voice was buttery leather (something Chris says is going to be in next season?), the kind that gets paid.
I did one take, got notes, did another and she had nothing left for me, but not in a "you're so far off the mark this is a waste of time" way.
I walked out feeling pretty good (not that, in the end, that matters fuckall, but still, it affects your day from that point on) and had about thirty minutes to kill before going to work, so I decided to walk the one or two avenues to Midtown Comics to pick up some more Preacher.
Turns out all their trade paperbacks were 40% off.
On top of all that, the Subways have been treating me very well today.
So, based on all this, I probably have ball cancer or something equally fun.
And:
Last night I watched "Ratatouille".
Not great.
Then again, I'm not 6.
Although I did purchase, eat and enjoy a box of Animal Crackers earlier this week.
I got more enjoyment from the fact that, when he isn't a cute, cooking, talking rat, Patton Oswalt is filthy and hilarious and brilliant.
"Big Fan" might be more up my alley.
BUT
I must address a MAJOR plot hole (in the 'G' rated, animated Disney movie about talking, cooking rats).
*SPOILERS*
So, the climax of the film was the rats making a dish for the big, bad food critic (voiced excellently by Peter O'Toole who also did a great job as Supergirl's father in that shitty, shitty, SHITTY movie from the 80's) and the dish they made was...ratatouille.
They arranged it artistically and when the critic ate it he came in his pants (figuratively) and got all happy (literally) etc.
Thing is: ratatouille is made up of some of the blandest foods in the universe: zucchini, squash, mozzarella and tomato sauce.
Unless I'm missing something huge, that's it.
How can that be so amazing?!
I WANT THAT FUCKING RATATOUILLE!
NOW! NOW! NOW! NOW!
MEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Also checked out the new Stephen King novella, "UR" ("ur", not "you are"), and the first 89% is a competent King, utilizing the always-fun Many Worlds Theorem, but the ending ties in in a very interesting way to the Dark Tower series, specifically raising questions about what happened after the events of the final (final until King writes book 8 in 2011) book of the series.
Man, I hope he doesn't die.
Finally, I came up with a great simile for my job:
It's like receiving a clumsy gummer from an elderly, English bulldog with gingivitis: there are so many things wrong with it that you sort of go numb and give in.
Vive l'amore!!!!

2.17.2010

Eating Your Childhood


2.17.10
3:20 pm
Yesterday, on a whim (so many whims have I...mayhap they be teensy, tinesy partes of some subconscious machination built to destroy my superego??) I bought a box of Barnum's Animal Crackers.
They were just as delicious as I remembered them.
The only difference seems to be that Nabisco is trying harder with the animal shapes.
You no longer really have to guess what you're eating., it's obviously a gorilla.
Not as much fun as it used to be, but I could see today's children being more frightened than delightened by these mysterious, melty monsters they are putting in their mouths.
And they still have that gentle hint of lemon.
Love it.
Also, a few months ago, the new Silent Hill game (Shattered Memories) came out for the Wii.
I was tweaked because it was supposed to be crazy new and different, made for the Wii with the motion controller in mind.
Rather than the typical wander-around-not-knowing-what-the-fuck-you're-doing-or-where-the-fuck-you-are-and-occasionally-hitting-creepy-nightmare-monsters-with-a-board-with-a-nail-in-it-until-the-siren-sounds-and-things-get-REALLY-bad, this game starts with a first person sequence with you and a psychologist who gives you a truncated psychological evaluation .  All true or false answers, nothing too in-depth. Then you become Harry Mason who has just survived a car crash and is looking for his daughter, Cheryl. There are no enemies or weapons, just you, exploring with a flashlight and solving some puzzles (one or two of which are really great). Soon, you get a cell phone (there are phone numbers all over Silent Hill and you can ring them all, plus, the phone's ring tones are all designed to be unsettling) and after that, a call from Cheryl who tells you "you gotta run, daddy, you can't fight them...".  A moment after that, everything freezes solid, massive sheets of ice leap from the ground, swallowing everything and altering your path.  Everything goes dark except for your flashlight and a door, up ahead, outlined in blue.
Then the creatures come out.
As she said, you can't fight them.
You can only run towards the blue outlines, be they doors, walls etc.
Occasionally, you can find a flare that will hold them off for a moment, but it goes out and they continue to pursue, angrier than ever.
Then, back to the doctor's office to do some more psych stuff. 
This is the basic pattern of the game (with some trademark Silent Hill mind fuckery thrown in for fun), but the big difference about this Silent Hill game is that every answer to every question and exercise is collated by the game and then the game alters itself to be more psychologically effective for you.
Sometimes the changes are subtle (the same dialogue but with a totally different intonation) and sometimes the changes are overt (the same female character goes from looking like Francis McDermott to January Jones).
They also alter the forms of the enemies too.
The game ended up being released for the PS2 sans motion controls, obviously, and the game is less effective because of it, but I'm a huge Silent Hill fan and was just happy to get a chance to play it, Wii remote or not.
I've played through it twice now (it's only about six hours) and had a whole slew of differences.
Not sure how "psychologically effective" it's been (haven't had any Silent Hill dreams or nocturnal emissions), but it's been good.
I hope they utilize some of these changes for the next full Silent Hill release, because that series is juuust about stale.
Phil and Grace came up this weekend and hung for a bit.
LIC restaurants were molested, 80's night at Pyramid with Special Guests Jim and Jen, a massive music swap with Phil and the repeated playing of both "I Believe" by Simian Mobile Disco and THIS COMMERCIAL.
Probably more the commercial than the song.
But, seriously, I dare you to watch this only once.
Punk.

2.03.2010

Fuck Martinez! Fuck Fuck Mar-ti-nez!

2.3.10
5:19 pm
Just spoke to Christina who told me she was reading some random blog by some random green guy (as in "aware of his carbon footprint", not "nauseous" or "Martian") who was involved with Method soap in some way and, apparently, my Shiny Suds commercial was attacked for being sexist and pulled by the company.
I'M IN A BANNED COMMERCIAL!!!!
I feel like Mark Twain!
More so than usual!
Just Google "Method scrubbing bubble parody" (or something like it) and you'll find a plethora of delicious, ridiculous controversy.
You can watch this unholy, taboo-breaking piece of minor-impregnating, nun-raping Internet filth right here, any time you want because Method doesn't control the Internet.
And neither do the uppity prudes who think the scary bubbles are real and coming for their dusty hymens.
They should be afraid of Duke frat boys, not animated cleaning products.
Sheesh.
Also, I'm going to add that Christina does not approve of that line about uppity prudes or dusty hymens.
I be allll about fair balance up in this mofo. 


7:26pm
Two mo' things, rull quick:
First, is it wrong to hope someone really annoying who talks with their mouth full (like TOTALLY FULL) all the time chokes (just a little) in order to help them learn to stop talking with their mouth full?
Sometimes Baby doesn't know what "hot" is until three of Baby's fingers are fused together with an acetylene welding torch.
Second, the new Magnetic Fields album ('Realism') is very good, if a bit short (CD's can hold something like 80 minutes, why are artists only using half that? I'm looking at you Beck, eels and They Might Be Giants...Prince, you're okay, I just wish you'd use the space for better music).
Great cello on there.
Check it out.