Soon, I Shall Number Among The Undead/I'm Totally Fine And You Should Come Over

Okay. So that tickling frog in my throat from yesterday has gestated into a rampaging shoggoth. I have decided that I am dying. So, since I am obviously going to turn into a zombie upon my death, I'm taking steps to make sure I become the best possible zombie that I can be. I'm sharpening my teeth, totally encasing my head in a protective covering (except for the sharpened teeth, of course) and reinforcing my joints and body with chain mail. No one's taking ME down without some collateral damage... I'm also attaching a time bomb to my body, just in case. Now, that said, I'm totally feeling much better and everyone I know should come over for tea and soft, frosted cakes. Since it's so hot out, you'll probably want to wear something light and easy to chew through rather than some sort of body armor. Or something. Don't be weird about it. All righty, I'm off to frost some cakes. I hope everyone likes cinnamon!!!

End of the Month Music Bitchfest - June 2012

Nine Inch Nails
Balls.
Sweaty balls.

Beck
Aside from stunning the world by releasing TWO BRAND NEW ORIGINAL SONGS, Beck also did some old school rapping on a track called "Silk Pillow" with some guy named Childish Gambino.
I like Beck's part, but Mr. Gambino left me feeling unimpressed.
Probably because he wasn't Beck.
Beck has started his summer festivaling and, sadly, crushingly, there has been no...new...music nor any mention of any new music.
And my heart...BURNS...

They Might Be Giants
So, while Nine Inch Nails, Beck, Cake, Eels and TMBG are my favorite bands (despite John Flansburgh calling me a hipster on Twitter yesterday...although we resolved things eventually) and I tend not to really put them in order (although it's usually TMBG vs. NIN when I get down to brass tacks); let this serve as a warning to Nine Inch Nails...at this particular moment...They Might Be Giants has got you beat.
Now, how could that possibly happen?
Well...technically, I can't tell you, as I've been sworn to Fight-Club-esque secrecy as a member of the 2012 Instant Fan Club...but, seeing as there are three people that read this and none of them are in They Might Be Giants, I'll tell you...and only you.
A few weeks ago, Flans sent out an e-mail to all the IFC members telling them a surprise would be showing up in our Inboxes. A day or so later, he told us what it was: the complete demo sessions for John Henry*.
This is probably my favorite TMBG album, and, simply for being a member of the IFC, I was to receive alternate versions of the whole thing?
This, THIS is how one does a fan club.
To the casual listener, there's not a whole lot of difference between this demo album and the released version, but to sick people like myself, it's a completely different experience. Different instrument types, additional notes, alternate endings...Jesus what a brilliant surprise for us psychos.
Along with this unexpected boon, Flans tells us that our July IFC package, which contains, among other stuff, an unreleased live CD from their 2011 tour and two new exclusive 7" vinyls, one with versions of music from the new album and one with old and new covers, is almost complete.
Plus, the custom ringtones should be arriving as well.
Folks, please don't let me complain about They Might Be Giants ever again, 'kay (except for when they call me a hipster)? These guys are performing above and beyond what can be asked of a band.
And, on top of all this awesome, Flans is still tirelessly responding to practically EVERY question put to him on the IFC Tumblr site.
I'm actually running out of stuff to ask them.
Anyone have any questions they'd like to ask They Might Be Giants?


A while back, St. Vincent mentioned that she was working on an album with David Byrne of Talking Heads. At the time I thought, "that's probably going to sound pretty awesome." Well, early in June, Annie Clark sent out an e-mail formally announcing Love This Giant**, the aforementioned Clark/Byrne joint. She said they started by sending things back and forth; music without words, words without music etc. and that the whole thing was centered around working with a brass band. She also released a track from the project called "Who" (which is super funky), announced the release date (September 11th) AND an upcoming St. Vincent/David Byrne tour launching fall of 2012...which I won't be seeing because A. the Beacon blows cockass and B. I'm not going to a place that blows cockass for $125, thanks though.
To be honest, I don't know a lot of Talking Heads but this is definitely going to get me to check them out. I know they're supposed to be amazing and ground breaking and all that, so this should be pretty fun.
Hear the track, read about the concept and see the tour schedule as well as a creepy picture of the two of them over at the official site: Love This Giant

I also remembered this month that Mickey Avalon (co-creator of "My Dick") existed. I did a little looky looky at the clicky box box and, holy shit, as it turns out, he released a new album, Loaded, a few months ago. I immediately stuck my face in and, at first, was very unimpressed; only one of two of the eighteen tracks (kudos for making a full length album though) really got my attention, but, after going back to his first album and then returning to the new one, I began to dig some more stuff off it.
While this guy is never going to replace Eminem as the most talented white rapper in the world, he has some pretty catchy stuff.
Also, the manner in which he talks about how rich he is at the start of a sentence and how broke he is at the end of it is pretty amusing...sadly though, I think that may have more to do with lingering brain problems brought on by years of drug abuse and rough living.
If one were so inclined, one should feel good about checking out the following tracks for the following reasons:

• "Girlfriend" - Catchy chorus and a good beat. Fun, strong single.
• "On The..." - Great melody and a solid rap from Mr. Avalon.
• "California Crack Cocaine" - Despite the...less than radio friendly subject matter and maybe a few too many homages to other summer type songs, this could be your next summer jam. The only person standing in your way is YOU. Asshole.
• "Mickey's Girl" - You ever wonder what Mickey Avalon and Lou Reed would come up with? It's this. This song. The acoustic guitar is a delightful surprise.
• "Making Love" - I love the laughter in Avalon's voice on this one, it's infectious...like Avalon himself.
• "Take Me Home" - An excellent anthem with just enough cock rock guitar to make one almost pump their fist...but not quite.
• "Party In My Pants" - See the title? Good. We're done here.

Again, it isn't as strong as the first album, but there's a lot more to this, although I do miss Dirt Nasty AKA MTV VJ Simon Rex. If this album had its own "My Dick", it would be much better, but, alas, a "My Dick" comes once every generation or so...

Aside from that, I've just recently listened to the Inverse Phase project, Pretty Eight Machine.
It's...pretty niche, so I'll feel completely all right if you skip over this one.
Basically, this dude recreated all of Nine Inch Nails' debut album, Pretty Hate Machine, using eight different 8-bit systems.
If you don't know what that means, think of any music from the Nintendo Entertainment System...that's 8-bit. There is some pretty awesome stuff on there and it's worth a listen if you're A. into chiptune and/or B. into Nine Inch Nails...although, after I finished listening to it, I really just wanted to listen to Pretty Hate Machine...which I did.

And, finally, some great news on the Tweaker front: the new album is totally finished and has been turned in to their label for mastering! They have yet to announce a release date or album title or anything, but, judging by the old model of releasing records, I'd say we're looking at a pretty big Q2 2013 for Tweaker.****

That's all for now.
Screw.









*Almost complete, apparently the song "Stomp Box" didn't actually have a demo version.

**Which, for the LAST TIME is NOT ABOUT ME.***

***It's totally about me.

****Prove me wrong, Future Artists, prove me wrong.

No, YOU stop melting my throat...

Figured out why my head felt like a centrifuge full of piss nails and hate spiders yesterday: I'm in the early phases of getting sick.
And, of course, my audition this morning went okay.
Of course.
Because, if I book this, it will record Monday or Tuesday...which will have given the Sick just enough time to sodomize my vocal chords.
Sans lube.
Fuck you, body.
No pizza for a MONTH, see how you like THAT.
Taking it as easy as I can this weekend, probably just doing the movie for Lisa's 31st. We're seeing Ted, which should be Family Guy, but with a teddy bear and Marky Mark.
Which, if I'm in a proper state of delirium, should be AMAZING.

Then, since Chris will be gone for the next 8 days, I'm going to put in the AC, drag my mattress into my living room and squat like a God King in a Palace made of Smiles and Light.
You haven't killed me yet, Summer*, and you won't this year either.












*I'm referring to the season, not Summer Posey, a whore I went to high school with.

Are you a lubriCAN...or a lubriCAN'T?

Bleh.
I can't keep a fucking thought in my head today...which means I'll either die of brain fever or write a screenplay.

Did NOT watch Resident Evil: Afterparty last night because I had to do a home recording for the lovely lollies at TransPerfect. At some point soon, once they overhaul their system, I will be that helpful voice whose face you want to punch for Lenovo. They're either in computers or lubricants*, either way, I'm perfect for them. They just send me e-mails with words, then I say them into a microphone next to my bed, then they give me money. I will tell you a sexy, super-secret secret...I like those kind of acting jobs more than the ones that require auditioning...shhhhhhh...

Then I had to sleep because I had one of those awful auditions where there are other people. It was for some totally amazing web site with a gibberish word as its name.
It's totally going to revolutionize things and the way people do stuff.
Totally.
But I don't think it worked out because I got the note "try it so you don't sound like you're talking about a family members funeral".
In the industry, that is what we call "not promising".

GAH! Fuck! While typing this I just found out I have an audition tomorrow morning at 10:15.
Wow. I'm complaining about auditions...what a cockass.
That's like Phil complaining about having too many ideas for novels or Will complaining about getting invited over to Sir Richard's house (again) for fondue and strip Trivial Persuit...or something.
The good news is the celebrity reference for this is Morgan Freeman. So, I suppose I'd better get busy something or get busy some other thing.
Also, I should stay black and die.
Deep impact.

I guess this means no Resident Evil: Afterbirth tonight either...which leaves me feeling strangely happy...

All right, off to write that screenplay.
I'm calling it "Billy and the Cloneasaurus".








*Personally, I'm a lubrican.

Zombie Jam!!!

I'm just going to jump right to the chase people...I watched Resident Evil: Extinction last night and, put your fingers in your assholes or you are going to SHIT YOURSELVES...it was actually pretty good.

HERE'S WHY!!!

• The attention to detail with regards to making the neverending army of undead look horrifying is BACK! And mostly practical make-up, or so it would seem.
• The huge, over-the-top characters were turned down from a I'd-rather-eat-the-contents-of-a-zombie's-lower-intestine-than-listen-to-you-deliver-your-horrible-tired-dialogue 11 to a nice, intense 4.5. Yes, there was some really awful dialogue here and there but that's to be forgiven...especially in light of the previous entry.
• Fucking EVERYONE DIED. Or, at least, it seemed that way. No one got special treatment, and I find that is important in a horror movie.

Still some shitty CG, a score that tried to mimic the amazing work Manson did on the first film (with results just as one would expect from such an endeavor), some bad writing and the main character randomly developing telekinesis AND pyrokinesis, but that's sort of to be expected in the third movie in a series like this...right? Pyrokinesis? Yeah?

Plus, I think whoever told Paul W.S.A.D. Anderson to "shit up" the script for the second movie told him to "shit down" the script for the third, because, guys, it was a lot less shitty. The director (Russell Mulcahy) got rid of the weird, throwback video effects from the second film (which was directed shat by a monster called Alexander Witt (more like Alexander "Witt The Fick Were You Thinking?")) and just made a pretty solid looking action/horror movie.

I'll nutshell it for you: Anderson and this new director managed to make a ten minute scene in which people are fighting a huge murder of zombie crows NOT CORNY. I say well met, gentlemen.
Also, the intro was pretty brilliantly mindfucking as well.

The really bad news arrives tonight...with the fourth movie in the series...Resident Evil: Afterlife.
I had actually watched this one (illegally downloaded, not purchased or even Netflixed, thank you) around the time it came out and...well...it's like someone told Anderson that Extinction was way too good and that he'd have to make this new one make the second one look like the first one.
If you followed that you are laughing.
Because it was clever.
Dick.

And, speaking of Clever Dick*...I picked up the Silent Hill HD Collection yesterday, which contains HD remakes of Silent Hill 2 (the best SH game in the series) and Silent Hill 3 (the second best game in the series). I'd been wanting to get them, but used my upcoming session with Jen as a catalyst. She has told me she might cry, but, if she does, we have an NES ready to go with Super Mario Bros. 3...just in case. I'm also tossing around the idea of having people over the night of July 3rd for a sleepover but I'm not solid on that yet...

Bouncing back to the movies for a moment, after watching the trailer for the final (bless you, Big Baby Jesus) Resident Evil movie (which seems to have borrowed...everything...from the fifth RE game), I dug up the trailer for the second Silent Hill movie, Silent Hill: Revelations**, and it's pretty awful. Yes, there are some scenes of the protagonist (the chick from the third SH game, based on her appearance and the settings from the trailer) looking terrified while lights go out and the trademark utterly bone-chilling siren wails on and on, but it also features the same protagonist answering a phone (always a bad idea in any Silent Hill situation) and hearing, not any number of nightmares on the other end, but rather someone that sounds a lot like the whiny offspring of Woody Allen and Steve Urkel singing "Happy Birthday". To (somehow) make  this worse, the voice, instead of singing the girl's name, says, "Oh, uh, I forgot your name!" The only thing missing was an "oy" and a "did III doooo thaaaaat?" Anything, literally anything else on the other end of that phone could have made that more creepy. Silence, "Walkin' On Sunshine", a dog farting...anything.
Ugh.

Here, just watch it yourself.

However, as Woody Urkel as it seems, I'll be there Day One (September 26th, 2012) just as I was for the first Silent Hill movie, which Phil and I have discussed at length. They didn't do a bad job, they just needed less dialogue, more indescribable horrors and less awful cultist acting.
I'll guess we'll see soon enough...

Anyway, I'll be back tomorrow with more of my idiot journey through the Resident Evil "films".









*The much loved/feared British childrens' performer from the early 70's

** "Revelations" will always be a horrible subtitle for a movie...especially the second in a series, and superespecially if it's for a movie series like Silent Hill, where explanations aren't really what the series is about. Silent Hill should be about experiencing a nightmare and then, like a nightmare, being unable to describe the logic of it. Jacob's Ladder is a pretty great example of a slightly less stylized Silent Hill movie.

They were a bit...bitey...

Silly, silly, stupid me.
I went ahead and watched Resident Evil: Apocalypse last night.
And it was diapers.

Thing is: I was almost certain that is was, in fact, diapers, but I didn't quite remember.
Now, not only will I have that little burnt smudge in my memory where that movie is, but I'll also have this right here.
So, excuse me a moment, I need to address myself: Paul, don't ever watch Resident Evil: Apocalypse again unless you are drunk as hell or you're trying to win a bet. It was awful.

Okay, everybody back in, we're going to take a ride in the Wah-bulance and discuss this shitty, shitty thing.

First and foremost: we all know that, anecdotally, the sequel is never as good as the original (usually; obviously there are dozens of exceptions). Sometimes it's because the first movie was meant to be a self-contained thing that begins when the film does and ends when the film does, but then it does well and some soulless corporate dude demands more money and has six more movies made, sometimes the people that believed in the first film and made it work don't want a sequel, they said and did what they wanted and they're happy...enter again soulless corporate dude to fire the original team and get some schlock makers in there...whatever the case, they change whatever it was that worked and make some cookie cutter shit that some demographic just gloms onto like blind, idiot children suckling feverishly at some mechanical teat filled with brain-melting yet delicious poison.
But this wasn't just "not as good as the original" bad. The step down in quality was just...stunning.
I was actually stunned at how little work seemed to go into this. There was a drop in the quality and detail of zombie make-up (which was more than somewhat noticeable in a zombie movie. Most of the undead just looked pale and grumpy), myriad awful camera choices (blurred, frame-dropping shots reminiscent of early 90's music videos and b-movies) and the introduction of a veritable parade of horror movie cliches: from the hot, tough chick (who decides to take on the zombie horde wearing sensible boots...and then a micro skirt and a tube top) to the tough but fair commanding officer type to the so-over-the-top street savvy black guy* (in whose every line of dialogue one could find the word "muthafuckah").
I wanted everyone to die all the time.
At least if the zombies won and consumed the earth, there wouldn't be any more bad writing...just the shambling, cannibalistic dead...which would be better.

Now, here's the really confusing thing...the first film was written and directed by Paul W. S. Anderson, the second, while directed by some other person was written by Anderson as well. So...what happened? Did someone just tell him to stop working so hard and just fart on some blank paper? Did he suffer a blow to the head? What the fuck changed?! Also, the lack of Manson's innovative score was palpable. Whoever they got to replace him did a bang up job of making me not notice the score at all.
Ugh.

And you know the worst part?
I'm planning on watching the third movie tonight.
SOMEBODY STOP ME.




*Read "pimp".

Jill, The Master of Unlocking

Thanks, in part, to Jen Rock, I've recently shambled back into the convoluted, absurd and ridiculously Japanese world of Resident Evil.
It all started a few weeks ago when her and I hung out and decided to play RE5 using local co-op (two people playing, at the same time, on the same screen). We finished the game in two sessions, the second of which lasted about twelve hours and ended just as the sun was coming up. It was the most fun I've had gaming in a while.
Since this massive play session, I had a hankering to play through RE5 again in order to unlock a staple in all Resident Evil games...the infinite ammo rocket launcher.
It's a rocket launcher...with infinite ammo...and it is glorious. To be honest, no, it doesn't really add to the tension or horror or feeling of vulnerability inherent in the game, it's more like a fun little thing you get as a reward for playing the living shit out of the game numerous times. And it's delightful; big, Cthuvian nightmare comes shambling and snarling and mewling up to you and then, click, boom, done.
Delicious.

Still on my Resident Evil Zombie Train*, I watched the first Resident Evil movie last night. Aside from some less than amazing CG and computer effects and a handful of trite lines of dialogue delivered badly, this movie still holds up remarkably well. It's a bit more stylized than your typical zombie flick, more sci-fi, but it does a great job of co-existing with the RE video game universe...at least until you start watching the second (of five) sequels and begin to yearn for a time machine. They do a great job with the antiseptic atmosphere of Umbrella's underground labs and Marilyn Manson's score work is astonishing; it fits perfectly and does exactly what it sets out to do. And there is never anything wrong with Milla Jovovich ever. Except in Ultraviolet.

Going back to RE5: it's the best looking game in the series, allowing you to clearly see the horrible creatures and then struggle to try and describe them. In one case, Jen and I were fighting a huge, man-shaped bunch of black squiggles, in another, a part prawn, part whale, part vagina monster. If a Silent Hill game could look this good, I don't think I'd ever be able to sleep again. That was always something I liked more about the SH series, you never really know what you're fighting. With RE it's always an experiment gone wrong and sometimes you even find documents describing how and what went wrong, but with SH, you might get a torn and blood-smeared page from some black tome bound in human flesh rambling on about some awful ritual...and, when you get down to it, horrible supernatural evil is always more frightening than corporate espionage.

So, despite being smart and attractive, I still plan to watch the second Resident Evil movie (Resident Evil: Apocalypse) this evening. I may actually stop myself before watching the third (Resident Evil: Extinction) and I will definitely stop myself before watching the fourth (Resident Evil: Afterlife).
But...will I see the fifth and (please, sweet baby Jesus) final Resident Evil movie, Resident Evil: Retribution, in theaters this September? No. I won't. In fact, I'm so not going to see it, that I'm not even going to make a joke about it. I will never see another Resident Evil movie in the theaters. I saw the first one and that was it. This is, again, not a joke.

I will however, be purchasing the new Resident Evil game (curiously titled Resident Evil 6) the day it comes out.
Because, ladies and gentlemen, zombies are back.
In the past two RE titles, RE4 and 5, the things you've been killing have NOT been zombies, but rather people infected with something called Las Plagas (literally, "the plague"**), an organism that, essentially, removes their humanity, but, in RE6, the good, old fashioned, reanimated-dead-you-have-to-shoot-them-in-the-head zombies are back.

And I look forward to obliterating them all with an infinite ammo rocket launcher with Jen Rock by my side.









*Which sort of sums up the plot of Resident Evil 0 for the Gamecube
**Slow, unimpressed applause

Passing with flying colors...although one of the colors is brown.

The past week was the Hospital's annual visit from the State Department of Somethingorother and, just today, I was informed that we passed...except for the following issues, which were taken from the CEO's e-mail to everyone:

• MDS did not accurately reflect resident status (pertaining to dental)
• Care Plan not updated in a timely manner after a resident fall
• Documentation – refusal of care not documented for several days; vital signs were below set parameters
• Food in the kitchen was not stored in a sanitary manner to prevent foodborne illness
• Facility did not implement hand washing practices consistent with accepted standards of practice
• Facility did not ensure documentation accurately reflected resident condition

Can you guess which two I'm about to discuss?

Yes, numbers four and five.

In my eight years here I have never, ever, EVER eaten ANYTHING that came from the kitchen.

To do so would be to invite horrifying osmotic poops and screaming gastrointestinal nightmares.

And that is not my bag.

How is it that I know not to ingest such poison? Well, believe it or not, the reason is pretty closely linked to item five on the above list: because these scummy fucks in the kitchen don't wash their hands after handling their filthy genitals.

WHO DOESN'T WASH THEIR HANDS AFTER EXPELLING WASTE FROM THEIR BODY?!

Five year olds and the people that work here.

And I wouldn't eat food prepared for me by either.

One question though: how did the State know about these unsatisfactory hand washing conditions? Did they post people in the bathrooms? If so, my earlier question needs some refining: WHO DOESN'T WASH THEIR HANDS AFTER EXPELLING WASTE FROM THEIR BODY WHEN SOMEONE WITH A CLIPBOARD IS HANGING OUT IN THE BATHROOM WITH YOU??!?!?!?

Fucking idiots, friends, fucking...idiots.

*sigh*

Oh, and don't think that any of this stuff is going to be addressed or corrected...what happens now is everyone has a "we didn't get shut down" party...the food for which has been prepared by people with feces on their hands.

Bon appitit!

Switching gears to something that does NOT involve eating food tainted with fecal matter, right at this moment, one Philip Tucker and his blushing bride, Grace, are speeding their way to a new and better life here in the northeast, more specifically, Massachusetts.

I am beside myself with happiness and excitement with their advent.

Next step: get Virgin Galactic and NASA to open offices in New York and get Will and Diana over here.

Then we open an ice cream shoppe and watch the hijinks ensue!!!

All right, I'm through.

BUT, check this shit out, something positive about this weather: my hair looks amazing.

And you're jealous.

The Account

I don't role play much, but almost every time I have, Philip Tucker has been the DM/GM/Storyteller/whatever you nerds call it.
Below is an account of one of the best, if not the best role playing experience I have ever had.
It was all thanks to Phil and further proves how insane, brilliant and beautiful his mind is.
If this doesn't make you want to read more of his work...well, then you're an accountant.
Sorry to be so harsh...but you are.
Enjoy.

These events transpired roughly between 4:30am and 6:30am on Monday, December 22nd, 2008.

Philip utilized the White Wolf dice system which entails the use of 10 sided dice.

He used a random number generating website for dice rolls.

Characters have skills, attributes, etc. that range from 0 to 5, five being world class.

All "dots" were assigned on the fly, in the context of my character, there was no character sheet.

Throughout the playing of the game, the Mickey Avalon album was on shuffle and repeat, although at specific and key moments, Phil would play "My Dick".

Character name: Mickey Avalon

Description: 13 year old kid from the Philippians, a hustler working for Mammon.

    Found myself at a bar, sweating out drugs which I had taken in place of food and water after a three week party that left me stranded in the desert.  I received a call on my cell from Mammon's number and was told by a voice that Mammon wanted to see me.

I told him to send a car to get me and then I turned back to the bartender, who was a pre-op transsexual, and flirted with him, tweaking his nipples (which he did not feel).

A zebra-striped limo arrived outside and a thick, monk-looking fellow in a robe stepped out.  I recognized him and got in.

Disco lights and purple fringe.

Half the limo's interior was blood spattered and the rest was bare where the interior had been torn up.

The windows were tinted from the inside and I couldn't see where we were going.

We arrived outside a hotel on South Beach, it was one of Mammon's headquarters.

I asked the monk for a knife (the weapon with which I am most familiar) and he told me he never carried weapons because-- and then I cut him off and walked inside.

    Went to the elevator in the back.  Mist poured out as it opened and there was only one button which read "MY DICK".  I pushed it and was taken to the fourth floor where I arrived at the remains of a party.  I noticed Lenny Kravitz in a sex swing wearing assless chaps and lipstick.  I took the wallet of some unconscious rich man as well as a letter opener that had been stabbed through his hand.  I then noticed the up and coming flyweight boxing champion sitting in the corner muttering to himself over a deck of Tarot cards, all of which were "The Fool",  I entered Mammon's office where he sat behind a desk, with the monk at his side, I had NOT seen the monk pass me on the way here and there were no other exits or entrances to this room.

    Mammon was described to me as being obscenely corpulent.  I was told he might have a chair under him somewhere and that he was probably pantsless, as usual.  Mammon also has long, curly white hair that went down to his ass.  It was wispy enough to trail behind him a moment after he stopped moving.  He tells me about a job that will pay $10,000 as opposed to my usual $2,000.  I say "hit me" and then lose an initiative roll by one die.  I feel "the tiniest prick ever enter my ass".  I asked Philip for confirmation and he rephrases the statement to inform me that the monk (who is half monk and half ninja) has injected something from a syringe into my ass.  Mammon informs me I've been infected with "some Japanese synth shit" and I will be dead within six hours.  Also in the syringe was a custom made STD and my mission is to infect someone with it, then, Mammon tells me, I will get my money and the cure.

    I decide to go against my normal impulse and I jump up on his desk and put my letter opener less than an inch from his eye.  The monk/ninja fails his roll and "stumbles over an imaginary turtle, which he then stops to contemplate".  Mammon calmly tells me that his foot is now depressing a pedal under his desk that is rigged to 18 Desert Eagles hidden in and around his desk, all pointed up as a failsafe against his death.  If I kill him they all go off.  I interrupt him by pushing the letter opener three inches into his eye.  At this moment, the ninja/monk kicks me in the back of the head, causing the letter opener to go further in.  As I fall behind the desk, I hear "an ominous click" from inside Mammon's skull and an instant later, napalm is spraying out of his eyes, nose and mouth, drenching the ninja/monk (who landed right where I had been a moment ago) in jellied fire.  He falls to the ground, silently.  I kill him, just in case.  I then search the desk and find one Desert Eagle, a few boxes of shells, $200,000 in cash, about a dozen car keys and a pillow case labeled "Virgin's Blood" which is full of cocaine.  Under the desk I find a flamethrower with a full tank.  I take the car keys, the money and the DE with some shells.  I also cut a huge line of coke to ease my pain.  As I'm coming back around, a razor sharp Fool Tarot card buries itself in surface of the desk.  I turn to see the boxer has just thrown one and is about to throw another.  I take a shot with my DE and miss.  He throws again and I attempt to catch the card in my teeth.  I fail and cut the shit out of my mouth.

    As I'm preparing to shoot again, the wall behind me explodes inward.  I look over my shoulder to see a clump of pink tentacles questing around the room; they are moving in a sort of pattern which I cannot discern because I fail a Perception (4) and Crafts (5) roll.  I turn back to see that the boxer has fled into the main room through which I entered.  I spray a few shots through the wall in hopes of hitting him and instead, cause the tentacles to not only find me, but complete encircle me and lift me out of the hole it made in the wall.  I am now four stories above the ocean, looking down at a group of screaming people and a cop trying to keep them calm.  The thing the tentacles are attached to looks straight out of 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, but pink.  I decide to bite it.  It dies immediately and I land, safely, on its body.  I then step, with utmost style and composure from its corpse onto the beach, right in front of the hotel's parking lot.  The cop and crowd are staring at me.  The cop sees my DE and yells to freeze.  I take a shot at him and hit his shoulder.  He uses the momentum from the impact to spin around and take a shot at my knees.  He misses and I put one in his chest, dead.  I then look to see if any of the keys in my pockets match any of the cars in the parking lot.  One does.  The logo on the key is Lamborghini.  I look around and see a slick and beautiful Lamborghini with five models on it, rubbing themselves and being model-y.  I fire a warning shot at them and blow one's head off.  The other four models seem not to notice and the crowd politely applauds.  I get in and see there is no keyhole, only a button on the key ring.  I press it and a voice says "You're not Mr. Mammon."  I tell the car that he's letting me use it.  "Password," it demands.  I think for a moment, smile and say, with utter confidence, "My dick."  The instrument panel slides open, the car starts and it then asks me where I want to go.  I tell it to get rid of the models.  The car emits an electric shock, blowing them from the car.  The crowd applauds more loudly.  I tell the car I want to make a stylish exit.  "My Dick" starts playing and the crowd applauds and dances as I peel out.

    I then extend my arm to the car's dashboard and say "Analyze my blood."  Sure enough, a hole opens and I put my arm in.  Then the car starts to freak out.  It says "Japanese virus".  I ask where I can get the antidote.  It stutters "3....2.....3...." and then stops talking.  A moment later, the voice says "must terminate".  It then starts driving at over 100 MPH.  I take a shot at the engine from my seat and the bullet ricochets and goes in through my stomach, out through my back, back into my back, out through the stomach and in once more from the front.  Black blood starts pouring out of me.  I duck and take another shot, it bounces until it stops.  I brace myself as best I can and the last thing I see is the speedometer reading 140 and a wall.  Next thing I know, I'm sitting in the burning wreck, completely unscathed.  I get out and look for an Internet cafe in which to look up the address "323".  I find a super hip Internet cafe filled with black-clad emo kids.  I turn to the nearest one and ask for his clothes a la Arnold Schwarzenegger from T2.  He begins to give me a smarmy answer so I pistol whip him (getting an exploding ten (allowing another dice roll) which causes me to utterly annihilate his jaw).  He hits the floor and says "thank you".  I'm trying to get his clothes off him when the other 65 emo kids all get up from their seats and start to do the Robot.  They begin to slowly move towards me.  I take the jawless emo kid's iPhone and run outside.  It asks me for a password and I gleefully enter "my dick" again.  Access granted.

    I find out that the only "323" address that could be anything is a beer hall called the Abbey.  I then do as much research on "Japanese virus",  "some new Japanese synth shit", "healing factor", "black blood" etc. as I can via Google.  Eventually, I find two articles, one on Yahoo! and the other from The Onion.  They describe a new Japanese synthetic drug called tricycline 3 that is derived from orca and killer whale cells.  It replaces one's cells with whale cells, hence the black blood and amazing healing ability.  I go to find someone who knows the most about drugs and that turns out to be the head of a McDonald's that is really a huge drug dealing hub.  I need a car to get there, so I use my sex powers to get someone to pull over.  Dozens of cars crash around me, their drivers wanting to touch me. I get in the nearest one as the emo kids (still doing the Robot) round the corner.  I back over one, then again but the third time he has gotten on top of the car.  I take a crazy corner and he goes flying off.  I crush him against a wall and take his wallet.  Phil gives me a MASSIVELY mundane yet detailed description of what's in the wallet including a family photo and four condoms, one sheep skin, one Trojan and two with Japanese writing on them as well as red lightning bolts.  I take one of the Japanese ones out.  It crackles in my fingers, seeming to singe my flesh.  I put it on my dickus and my penis immediately becomes "a power rod".  On the way to McDonald's I stop to sex a man out of his clothes.  At McDonald's, I find Joseph, the 12-year old girl who runs the place.  I ask her if she knows anything about "this", and then I bite a chunk out of my wrist, causing black blood to pour from the wound.  She hands me a hamburger bun and tells me to soak it up with it.  I do so and she takes it back, puts cheese and lettuce on it and then eats it.  A moment later she tells me it's tricycline 3 and that I need to see this Japanese guy to get the antidote.  She holds up a business card, out of my reach.  I ask what she wants for it.  She asks what I've got.  I offer her the 200k but she refuses, I offer her my erect and electrified penis and she says she's a lesbian.  She then asks for me to hold out my left hand.  I give it to her and she produces a cleaver which with she cuts it off.  She then hands me the business card.  On it is written "Stephen Lee, Chemist, Walgreens".  I thank her and drive off.

    I arrive at the Walgreens and go to the pharmacy counter where I see a display for the condom which I am wearing.  A Japanese man appears and I ask him what these condoms do.  He tells me they feed off my chi and that wearing them for more than forty minutes will cause my brain to explode.  I remove mine along with several patches of dick skin.  I ask him about the virus.  He begins to give me "wisdom" and then I plant an image of the mass pelvic thrust from the "Yes" video into his brain.  He begins to furiously hump the counter before slapping himself, swallowing a whole packet of horny goat weed, slapping himself again and then putting one of the lightning bolt condoms on himself. "None of that!" he says.  I ask him what I need.  He asks to see my palm.  I ask him if he has a cleaver and he says no, then licks my palm.  He then tells me I need the poison sac of a Fugu fish, the spit of a pre-op transsexual fried on one of the condoms and then injected via syringe into my heart.  I buy the syringe and two more condoms and then ask if he knows where the bar (with the pre-op transsexual) is.  He then fades like a flower and disappears behind the counter.  I look over and see him lying there, looking up at me.  It is awkward.  I begin to suck on my gun barrel in order to get him to tell and he does.  I turn to leave when I see the front of the store is being slowly filled with the emo kids still doing the Robot.  I flee out the back and see a DeLorean with a sign that says "Drive Me."

    I get in and tentatively say, "Hello?" The car asks where I want to go.  I tell it I need to go to a sushi place.  It begins to spin around and around until it reaches 88 MPH, at which point it's engulfed in lightning.  Suddenly, the lightning clears and I'm in the parking lot as before, with a different configuration of cars.  I ask when we are and the car says, "three hours ago".  We then speed to the sushi place.  Out front there are five live sharks hanging by their tails off which a line of sushi chefs are carving shark steaks.  There are also platforms on which kids are standing in order to be raised inside the sharks and back down again.  I enter the restaurant, which is very trendy and playing German trip hop and ask the chef, in Japanese, for Fugu.  Everyone stops, dropping their utensils, the music screeches to a halt.  The chef says, "White man is not strong" I then interrupt Phil to remind him that I am Filipino.  He then says "This Filipino man speaks like a white" I interrupt him AGAIN to remind him that I spoke in Japanese.  The chef presents the Fugu, still alive, flayed open before me and wearing a breathing apparatus to keep it alive.  I bow (the entire restaurant bows back) and grab a combat knife from the table to remove the poison sacs.  As I leave, I recite the haiku "FOR THIS GIFT OF FISH/ THAT YOU HAVE GIVEN TO ME/I PAY YOU WITH SEX"

This causes people to faint and projectile vomit and the building to collapse.  I get back in the car and tell it to take me to the bar.  I arrive just in time to see myself leaving in the zebra limo. A large group of people enter just before me and, as I am waiting to talk to the pre-op transsexual, I notice that the man at the bar buying everyone shots...is the Judge from Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian.  He looks at me and nods, as if in approval, I nod back, VERY relieved, but still pensive.  The pre-op transsexual comes over and I ask him for his spit in a shot glass.  He obliges.  I head into the Men's room to mix my antidote...

   The Men's room has two stalls. one "out of order" (in the same sense that the stall in Desperado or Trainspotting was "out of order") and one with the door closed.  I had a bad feeling and went into the Ladies' room.  There was only one stall and it was closed.  I knocked, got no response, and pushed the door open...standing inside, naked and with a huge smile on his face, was the Judge with his arms open to embrace me.  He had "annihilation in his eyes".  If you don't know about the Judge, I'll relate what Philip said: "He is immortal.  He is the Avatar of War.  He does not botch."  According to Phil, the Judge has all 6's in a rule set where 5 is the most a character can have.  So, I'm standing there facing him.  He wins the initiative roll and goes to hug me (which, I find out later, is instant death, no questions) AND FAILS HIS ROLL OF OVER TEN DICE.  It's my turn and I debate whether to shoot or run.  I choose to run.  My rolls contains THREE exploding tens (which means I get an extra die to roll), two of which are also exploding tens.  I end up with a total of 9 successes, the Judge BARELY missing me with 6 successes.  I explode into the car, which, thankfully, sensed danger and was ready for me.  I scream to get us away from the Judge and the car says to do so we must enter the time stream.  I scream to do it and the car begins to spin.  Out the window, I see the Judge exit the bar.  On the first rotation, I see him removing the bolts from one of the huge arc sodium lights in the parking lot, on the second, I see him push down the light, on the third and fourth I see him tearing the wiring out and gathering it up and on the fifth, I see him making a lasso out of it.  At this point, the car is up to 77MPH.  I see the Judge throw the lasso and see it snag the car's antenna.  The surge of power sends the speedometer from 77 to 140 and the last thing I hear as I blast into the time stream was the Judge's laughter echoing behind me.

    We reappear in the same parking lot.  The cars are in a different position and the light pole is still down.  I ask the car what happened and it says we've been hurled a few hours into the future.  I suddenly begin to die.  The Judge has sent me just past the end of the six hours the virus took to kill me and I am on my way out.  I roll to put my antidote together and fail.  The last thing I say is: "Take me to Joseph".  The car peels out and streaks to the McDonald's.  On the way, I make the second most important roll of the game and stave off death long enough for Joseph to make an excellent roll herself and inject a syringe of adrenaline into my heart.  With her needle still in, I decide whether I want to attempt to make the antidote now or make it while telling her how to in case I die.  I decide to make it myself and succeed, slamming the needle into my heart an instant after she has pulled the other one out.  A moment later...I'm fine.

    I ask Phil how much money I have in savings from my years of hustling.  He says four million.  I ask Joseph how many people we could get for four million to take someone out.  She says it depends on who we want and how long it would take, I cut her off and tell her it's the Judge.  She screams and runs back inside the McDonald's, slamming the door behind her.

    And the game ends.

    Afterwards, Philip and I go over what's just occurred, bask in our utter and complete awesomeness, and then he drove me to my hotel, where I sat in the lobby for an hour and a half, writing this account.

Tantalization...

I have something amazing coming later today, when everyone can see it...

My Week On The Inside

I am allotted 20 paid vacation days a year. I've not, in recent memory, ever used all 20, but, this year, as it turns out, I had to take five days before July...and I did so from last Monday to last Friday. It would have been more wonderful without having five fucking auditions, but I suppose that's kind of like complaining about having orgasms.

The highlights included writing and recording some music for some things I'm working on (and some just because I had the time and inclination to do so), seeing Christina while the sun was still up, sitting quietly in a darkened room with a sumptuous breeze coming in through the window as I watched endless episodes of Parks and Recreation and playing Resident Evil 5 for nearly twelve hours with Jen Rock. Together, we killed SO many infected Africans...it was...horrifying.
I also got chainsawed in half once and only once.

Obviously, I could go for another week (or 70) of just...being, but I'm astounded to find that my first day back at work hasn't been the Screaming Nightmare I'd been expecting. I'm pretty sure it has to do with the fact that, about a month ago, two of the most annoying in my work life were terminated in two days.
On top of that, cut backs mean there are less people in the office with me at any given time. Sometimes, in fact, I have, literally, hours alone to just...be. It's delicious.
Plus, my idiot supervisor (the one responsible for the top picture here) has been replaced by, get this...someone who graduated...from college! We have cogent conversations! Plus, she isn't conniving and snakelike, which is also a plus.
Long story short, returning to work wasn't assy because the job itself has become less assy.
That is a good thing.
And, folks, it's good...when things are good.

Looking forward to yet another Comcast session on Thursday and some huge amazing news coming up on the Speakaboos front soonish.

The weekend brings a housewarming party for the aforementioned Killer Red, J Rock and the weekend after brings about a Moustache Bash for Lisa's birthday.
I plan to have the best moustache...or die trying.
Or not.
But I'll be there, wherever it is.

I feel as if there is more to tell you...but I also feel like your attention has wandered.
Ah, well then, sojourn forth, oh Hyperborean Wanderer! Find thine serpents and banish them!
Or not.

I'm going to get some muthafuckin falafel.

The Starbucks Chase

Earlier today I had an audition.
On the way home, I devised a game for New Yorkers to play.

1. Start by going to a Chase bank and taking out twenty dollars
2.  Then go to the nearest Starbucks. Get yourself a coffee and walk out.
3. Keep walking in a straight line until you pass ether another Starbucks or another Chase.

• If it's a Starbucks, finish whatever coffee you have left and get another one.
•  If it's another Chase, take out another twenty dollars.

      4.  After leaving each location, change direction, then keep walking and repeat the process; you see another Chase, get another twenty, another Starbucks, another coffee.

The game is over when:

• You finish your coffee (without running into another Starbucks)
• You run out of money (or you reach a set dollar amount)
• You die (you never know)

Have a great weekend guys.

Hi, I'm Sisyphus!

And, why am be I Sisyphus? Well, merely because I've taken about three weeks to go through each one of my seven hundred and forty three journal entries (starting March 9th, 2003) and then categorize them for easier readability.
Easier readability for whom, you silly bastard?
Ah, well, you've got me there, it seems!

But, in any case, I did it. The following are the different categries I have created in which to categorize my internet idiocy:

'The Brave One' wrap party, (Old Lady) Playing Piano, 2006 H.P. Lovecraft Film Festival, 2011 Oscars, 24, 30 Ghosts IV, 5:55, 90's Music, ???, A Night Of Harry Carrie and Garp, A Real Good Meal, Abnormally Addicted To Sin, Ache/Spin/Die/Repeat, Acting/Auditioning, Adventure, Adventures In Babysitting, Advil, Aging, Air travel, Album Review, Alice's Tea Cup, Alien, Alien: Resurrection, Aliens, Aliens 3, Aliens Vs. Predator, Aliens Vs. Predator 2, All about me, All Typesa Shit, Amanda Palmer, Amy Hempel, An Excellect Time, Answers to Various Peoples' Questions, Armageddon, Assassin's Creed: Revealations, Audio and Journal From France, Bacardi, Back To The Future trilogy, Bacon, bad Chinese food, bad Romero films, BAILY, Batman: Arkham City, Batman: The Animated Series, Bear Mountain, Beck, BEECHOUZATRONICON XMAX '06, Big Love, Binding Silence, Birthdays, Bite The Music, Bite The Music (v 2.0), Bitter Sweet, Black Swan, Blip, Bond Movie reviews, Bond themes, Boners, Book of Eli, Book Review, Boondock Saints II, Breaking Bad, Brian Froud, British accent, Bronson, Burke and Hare, Burn Notice, Buying Vinyl, Cablevision, Cake (band), Camp Counselor Party, Can't Keep Johnny Down music video, Capitol Lighting, Casino, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory The Video Game, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Childhood, Chinese Democracy, Chris Cornell, Chris Rush, Christina Lind, Christmas, Christmas Presents, Christopher Walken, Chuck Palahniuk, Cloud Atlas, Clousre, CNN, Coca Cola Light, Coffin Cam, Comcast, Comics, Commenting on the weather, Complaining About Trent Reznor, Concert Review, Cookies, Cop Out, Creative Endeavor, Cube, Cube Zero, Daed Island, David Bowie, David Fincher movies, Davidoff Hot Water, Dead Ends, Dead Rising 2, Demon Days, Depeche Mode, Diesel Dance Party, Dirk and Rico, Discworld, Disney World, Dogwalking, Doritos, DOVA, Dreams, Dresden Files, Drunk At Work, Due Date, Eagle Vs. Shark, Edward Gorey's The Chinese Obelisk, Eels, Elongation of Time, Eminem, Employee Evaluation Sheet, End of the Month Music Bitchfest, Essays About Me By Will, Eugene Mirman, Event, Evergreen Financial, Every Day Is Exactly The Same (music video), excellent Chinese food, Eye doctor, Faith, Fallout 3, Fanta, Fast Times At Ridgemont High, Fat People, First entry, Florida, FluMist, Foo Fighters, Food, Fotch, Friday the 13th (reboot), Friendship, Fringe, Fuckblip, Fuckrant, Fuckrant Xmax, Full Dark No Stars, Fuse TV spots, Gaming, garbage not your kind of people review, George Washington Diarrhea, God of War 3, Going To My Cousin's Wedding With Phil, Good Day, Good Will Hunting, Greenberger video project, Greenday, Grey Goose, Grind Show audio book, Guero, Guns 'n' Roses, Guy Richie movies, H.P. Lovecraft, H.P. Lovecraft homage, Haikus, Halloween Freak Fuck, Hancock, Haribo gummi bears, Harley-Davidson, Having a sonogram machine dedicated to me, Heroes, Hipster nicknames, Hitchhiker's Guide series, Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy, Horrible Bosses, Hounddog, How To Destroy Angels, Hunter S. Thompson's audio commentary for Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Hypercube, Hypnosis, I'm A Total Dick, Inception, InFamous 2, Inglourious Basterds, Internet, IRM, It's Kickin' In (music video), Jack Vance's Demon Princes, Jackass 3D, Jade, Jenna, Jess Wade Birthday ARG, Jesus Made Me Muffins, Jesus' Son, Jim Gaffigan, Joel Peter Witkin, Johnny Cash, Juxtaposition of 'dreadnought', Kaitlyn and I making out, Kevin James, key parties, KFC, Kick Ass, Kids, Knowing, Kristin Schaal, Lady Gaga, Le Mot Juste, Le Petit Ecolier, Lesbian wedding, Less Than Zero, Let The Right One In, Life, Linguistics, List of Interesting Words, Lonely Island, Lost, Lysistrata: The Musical, Mad Max, Major Life Breakthrough, Marilyn Manson, Mark Scharfman, masturbating dog casting, Medea, Media, Megan Boggia, Method Soap, Michelle Mumford, Midgets, Mika, Millennium trilogy, Modern Guild, Monkey Shines, Monopoly, Morgan Freeman reading haikus about puppies, Movie Review, MTA, Muppets, Mushy Snuggle Love, Music, Music Review, Music Review Xmax, my awful roommates, my birthday party, my fan club, NBA promo, Nerd Do Well, New Year's Resolution, Nike, Nine Inch Nails, Nine Inch Nails: Live With Teeth (summer '05), Nine Inch Nails: Live With Teeth (winter '05), Nine Inch Nails: Wave Goodbye '09, Ninjas, Nintendo, Ninth Anniversary, No idea, Not Enough Sleep, Nothing, NY), Obituary, Ocean City NJ, Ok Go, Opel, Other Lives, Patton Oswalt, Paul (the movie), Paul McCartney, Peep Show, People Are Wrong (play), Phil, Phil's house, Phone Book Abortion Clinic advertisments, Photo, Photos From France, Plato, Plavix, Poem, pointless (play), Police Academy series, Portal 2, precursor to Lesbian wedding, Prince, Prince lyrics as mission statements, Promotion, Proto-Bite The Music, Proto-End of the Month Music Bitchfest, Questions for Various People, R.I.P. Hunter S. Thompson, R.I.P. Johnny Cash, Radio Stations, Ramble, Rasputina, Rataouille, Really Simple Pun Aggregate, Red Bull experiment, Red Dead Redemption, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Regina Spektor, Relapse, Reminiscing, Revenge of the Nerds, Review, Rock Band 2, Rooftop Machete Party, Rye Playland, Sandwiches, Saul Williams, Schindler's List, Science, Scissor Sisters, Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World (movie), Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World: The Game, Scream, Sentient iPod, September 11th 2001, Seven Perfect Days, Shark Week commercial, Shutter Island, Sick, Silent Hill: Shattered Memories, Smurt, Snow Crash, Song, Song of Fire and Ice, SONOIO, Soul Boner, Speakaboos, Spike Jonze movies, Star Trek, Star Wars, Starwood, STDs, steam rooms, Stephen King, Street Sweeper Social Club, Stylophone, Sufjan Stevens, Sugababes music video, Sugababes music video shoot, Sugar High, Sunir, Surge/Vaut, Suspina, Swedish Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, Swimming, Taint Stain, Taken From Me, tequila, Terminator Salvation, Thanksgiving, That Mitchell and Webb Look, The (Mis)Adventures of Peter Firehead, The 10 Commandments, The 7 Deadly Sins, The Adventures of Guido, The Best Sandwich Ever (film), the Bottle Con, The Broken Movie, The Day The Earth Stood Still, The Gay Pimp, The Girl Next Door, The Graveyard Book, The Hospital, The Human Centipede, The Human Centipede 2, The Inchoate Trilogy, The Internet, The Invention Of Lying, The Lathe of Heaven, The Lost Destrict, The Lost Room, The Man Comes Around, The Onion, The Onion: Best Music of 2009, The Reader, The Running Man, The Shadow, The Shawshank Redemption, The Simpsons, The Social Network, The Social Network score, The State, The Submarines, The Tesseract, The Walking Dead, Theatre Barn (New Lebanon, Theme for Tetsuo The Bullet Man, They Might Be Giants, Things I Don't Like, Things I Like, Timber Wolves, Tiny Dick (song), Tobacco, Tony Hawk, Top 20 Albums, Tori Amos, Trainspotting (book), Trip To D.C. With Phil, Trip To Florida For Christmas, Trip to France, Truth or Dare, Turtleneck and Chain, TV Review, Tyler Perry, Uber Ramble, Ultraviolet, Uncharted 3, Under The Cherry Moon, Under The Dome, Usher, Utter Nonsense, VH-1 Rock Honors, Viva La Vida, Volcanic Sunlight, Watchmen, We Love Katamari, Weddings, Why We Suck, Will, Will and Diana's Wedding, Wipeout HD, Woodstock, Wu Tang Clan, X-Files, X-Men: First Class, X-Men: The Animated Series, Year Zero ARG, Yes Man, Youth In Revolt, Zombies

 

Some reflections upon looking through the last near-decade of my furious screaming: 

 

• I am brilliantly funny
• Not a lot i these journals prove that
• I have anger issues

And...yeah, that's it.

Some favorite/best written/more astute moments can be found under the label "Le Mot Juste"; there are 22.

Yeah.

All right.

I've done my part, now, spend a few months getting to know/reknow me and stagger at just how little I'm matured in ten years.

If I think of anything else, I'll let you know.

Be gone.

How do you do this EVERY DAY?

I woke up at 7:30 this morning for a VO session at 9. And I wondered out loud to myself...how can people function like this? THE SHADOWS WERE ALL WRONG. Now I am going to watch some X-Files, eat lunch and take a nap. If this EVER happens again, I am going to lose my mind. You Daylighter freaks.

In that case...

Just got off the phone with Will.
We talked briefly about my going through and categorizing these older journal entries. I told him that it's more for me, so I can find things more easily and that I don't actually expect people to go back and read anything I wrote almost ten years ago. Will then said he thinks that I should, I should expect people to go back and read my nearly a decade old journal entries.
So now I do.
Hey, everybody, go and read my old journal entries.
Do it.
Use the handy dandy labels or just type in some word you think I would have used into that there search bar.
And then read my ten year old journal entries.

By the way, Will?
This includes you too.

Biting The Music...again

Fist: I have a booking at TransPerfect tomorrow...at 9am.
Which should be interesting as I don't think I've ever spoken that early in the morning before.
Hope their director wants: slurred and muzzy.

In more excellent news, Bite The Music has just been reborn.
If you're interested or maybe want to try your teeth, check it out.
Very excited about this...

AHHHH! MY TEETH!!!!!

I JUST ATE AN ALMOND JOY AND MY TEETH ARE TOTALLY COVERED IN COCONUT!!!!!
Maybe if I eat more this problem will solve itself.

Five Stars

Ah ha ha ha ha haa.
As I walked into work today, I was told to see the head of my department, a cool cat named Chuck.
He handed me an envelope and told me he was recommending me as a five star employee*.
Someone...is clearly not paying attention.

Had four auditions in two days and I don't feel great about any of them.
My most recent was for a David Lynch style H&M short film thing in which I had to be peculiar.
Yes, I was peculiar, but I could have been more peculiar.
So, I let myself down on that front.

The others were VO; two for Comcast (I prefer it when they just book me) and one for...something else...which I can't remember...oh, American Express.
They're teaming up with Facebook...because neither one is doing very well, I suppose.

Still sifting through past journal entries.
Still impressing myself.
I've also connected my journal with my Facebook and Twitter.
Which will produce:

• Unfriending
• Unfollowing
• Uninterest
• Complaints about using words that aren't real

Or so I firmly believe.

Enjoy the deluge of ME.







*Not ironically.

Laughing in 2009 is NOT Laughing in 2012

Still sorting through and categorizing my fuckrants.
Ran across something that makes me sad.
In early 2009, I made some VERY VERY FUNNY comment about how as long as nine Inch nails has a new album out before 2014, I'll be fine...because it would be ridiculous to think (at that moment in early 2009) that they wouldn't have a new album until 2014.
Well...2014 is about a year and a half away...and Trenty Poo seems to have nothing NIN up his black, billowing wizard's sleeve...
The moral?
Fuck me for making a stupid comment.
See you in 2016, T Rez!!!

The Sorting Twat

After abandoning the burning, sinking corpse-barge that is LiveJournal and importing all my superimportant and relevant and totally smart journal entries to this here Blogger address, I have learned that one is able to label said entries with the topics addressed IN said entries.
Wow.
So, as of right...now, I have labeled about two and a half years worth of my near decade of fuckrants, rambles and fuckrambles®, and I've noticed something...I address a hell of a lot of topics.
My brain is like a beehive filled with angry, stupendous beavers.
A BEEHIVE FILLED WITH ANGRY, STUPENDOUS BEAVERS.

I'm also tired today as I had my most recent recording session with the Speakaboos crowd. We did Jack and The Beanstalk, with me narrating and playing the giant. I was going to play an annoyed cow, but we had some rerecords from previous sessions to take care of as well, so no annoyed cow.
I did get to say a line as an irritated genie in the style of Paul Lynde though, which is better than an annoyed cow.
After that I went home, became sleepy, then set off for a major league soccer audition.
I tried not to laugh, I really did...but...guys, come on...soccer? Me?
You send me out on a Junior Mints audition or a sleeping audition or for some anti-sweating coalition and I am down...but soccer? Sports?
Barking up. The wrong. Tree.

And now I'm here.
Soon after this riveting glimpse into the life of a tall, beautiful voice actor is wrapped up, I'll continue sorting my past journal entries into categories so solipsistic and oblique that you'll HAVE to read them*, just to attain some understanding of me, and then I will finish reading my good friend Phil's latest literary abortion.
Hm. That could be misunderstood.
Phil started writing a new novel and then stopped.
I'm reading it to see if it should remain stopped or if he should consider finishing it.
Not that my word is law, but, sometimes, I my enthusiasm  in such matters can be helpful.
So far I'm enjoying it and look forward to the end of chapter fourteen (which is as far as Phil got), at which point I'll ask him what happens next and he'll shrug and I'll cry.

Tomorrow night is Chris' birthday party.
I'll be there.
That's about all I can tell you for sure.



*You probably won't. Won't have to and won't read them.