single file eyes

Thank you, Dictionary.com

2010-04-09T23:54:00.002-04:00

Gesundheit

2010-04-09T23:50:00.001-04:00

I'm Liberal With My Sugar

2008-10-24T12:37:00.007-04:00

I voted for McCain today at my local 7-11. I cast my vote at 7:45 this morning, and I made my decision very quickly. I couldn't vote for Obama. There was no way. It's not that I disagree with his policies, fear his Socialist ideals, or don't like black people. There were just no Obama cups available. Only McCain.

I have been getting a 20oz cup of coffee from 7-11 every morning on my way to work, and this is the size that 7-11 has been using for their election marketing campaign. Normally, at the 20oz size, you can choose a blue Obama cup, a red McCain cup, or a regular 7-11 cup. I've been going with the regular, because I fear someone approaching me wanting to talk politics. I hate talking politics for the most part and am not a fervent supporter of either side. But today, I had to make a choice. Today, in the 20oz cup size variety (my favorite drive-to-work size) there were no Obama cups. I live in Studio City, CA. It's pretty liberal around here. Even if someone is a McCain supporter, he probably would normally go with a regular 7-11 cup in fear of getting an upside-down "B" lightly scratched into his face. But I didn't even have that option this morning. Not only were there no Obama cups, there were no regular cups! Just bright red McCain cups! Sure, there were plenty of regular 7-11 cups in other sizes that I could have gone with, but I decided that this was a dilemma that truly questioned what kind of man I am. What's more important to me? Protecting myself from the leering scorn of local Obama supporters? Or getting the size of cup that I really desired?

I'm a man of principles. I don't budge on the important issues like coffee cup size. Wait. That's just one principle.

I'm a man of principle.

I grabbed the red McCain cup and filled it. Now the 7-11 employees love me. Not because I'm supporting tax breaks for their franchise. Because I'm helping reduce their overstock of McCain cups.

Olive Juice

2008-02-06T15:15:00.000-05:00

I haven't had much to say for the past eight months or so. There have been plenty of ideas rolling around in my mind, and they've been fermenting there. For too long, some of them. I fear they have turned to vinegar. I always get oil and vinegar on my subs from Subway. And olives. I've been on a black olive kick for two years now. Nothing looks better on a pizza than pepperoni and black olives.

Death Kick

2007-06-20T16:18:00.000-04:00

I just can't afford to go tanning.

Gas prices are actually going down a little bit, but I won't be happy until we're back under $2/gallon...so I'll probably never be happy again.

Please tell me "WEIGHT LOSS" doesn't refer to abortions.

That's not funny. Abortion is nothing to joke about and neither is death...or so I've been told. I disagree. I'm actually on a death kick with a lot of my writing. Exploding heads, executions, dogs eating carcasses, daters eating babies...all of these things are being featured in my recent writing, and I swear it's funny.

I must be working out some issues.

Defamous

2007-06-20T01:37:00.000-04:00

"Make that change." That's good advice, Michael. I don't care that you might have been imagining yourself hiding in a junior high boys' locker room when you wrote those words. I have still taken them to heart. That Man in the Mirror got a good starin' down this past week, and things aren't the same anymore. And I don't think it's just me. Everybody seems to be making changes. The pancake of life is being flipped. The underwear of life is being turned inside-out. Change is in the air. Change is posted on light posts in Hollywood. Quick question regarding the photo to your left. How many actors trying to learn how to do a good Scottish inflection do you think called before they had to add "FOREIGN SPEAKERS" to the advertisement? And can you ever really eliminate an accent? Can't you just learn to use a different one? The whole business is illogical.

Apparently, I'm not the only one who thinks that Robin Williams looks like a uterus as evidenced by Defamer linking my latest post. That was pretty awesome...but not nearly as awesome as finding out that Warner Brothers, producers of License to Wed, sent around a company-wide memo that included a link to the Defamer article! How do I know this? I have spies. That's how. Single File Spies.

Little do Warner Brothers know that the originator of that anatomical comparison to their major motion picture interviewed for an entry-level position at their studio lot today. Totally true. I didn't mention the blog, though, figuring that most bosses don't want their underlings to have a national audience. (Do not look at the hit counter.) I aced the Microsoft Word skills test and typed 80 wpm, so I'm expecting a call from them pretty soon. Actually, the interview did go decently, and I'm qualified for the position, but honestly something didn't feel right about the whole experience. Something inside of me said that I wasn't getting the job. I got the feeling Daffy knew something I didn't.

Pictures!

George Clooney parked his ego here.

My head asplode?

When this building eventually collapses, it will be the first ever pratfall from beyond the grave.

Hey, that looks like a penis!

Starring Robin Williams as The Uterus

2007-06-13T23:22:00.000-04:00

What? No Silver Platter?

2007-06-06T15:34:00.000-04:00

Me? Drive David Carradine? THE David Carradine? Sure--I mean, of course! I'd love to drive him! Oh man, this is going to be so great. Me and David Carradine riding around in my Sentra. We'll become best of friends! I just know it!

And we did become best of friends. We talked about life. We discussed Betamax vs VHS. We talked about David's book which bombed because he didn't promote it. He smoked in my car...with the windows up. We listened to his CD which he gave to me. Everything was going just swimmingly...

...until his head fell off!

Besides the initial heavy rush of grief that hit me after realizing my new best friend was now dead, I also felt a sudden powerful panic. I was David Carradine's driver! They trusted me with his life, and I failed them. His head fell off while in my care! In my care in my car! Not that I had anything to do with his head falling off. I mean...it just fell off! Look, the guy did a lot of kung fu back in his day and maybe he took a few too many chops to the neck. Add all of those cigarettes smoked inside cars with the windows up, and I imagine his whole neck region to be pretty dried out. I mean, just a slight tap of the brakes at his age could totally, feasibly cause sudden decapitation. And that's what happened. And that's what I told them. And they didn't care anyways because he was picture wrapped. So, instead of getting yelled at and fired...we all decided to enjoy the Head of David Carradine.

Like my Head of David Carradine hood ornament?

Everyone's gonna want one!

Eventually, the Head of David Carradine began to smell. Heads don't keep long in the Valley sun. So I had to drive to the desert and bury the Head.

Let's just say that the drive back home from the desert got a little emotional for me.

I'm still sad but keeping that stiff upper lip. I miss you David Carradine...and I miss your head.

So sketchy...

2007-06-05T03:38:00.000-04:00

A very special treat for you and yours.

And now it's time for a breakdown.

2007-06-02T14:04:00.000-04:00

Actually, it's past time. I had my breakdown Wednesday night while driving back home after having my heart removed from my chest that evening. It wasn't ripped out by anyone else. No, no. This time, I decided to dig into my own ribcage, pull it out myself, and fling it at a girl that I love. Of course, it hit her right in the face and blood got everywhere: all over her clothes, all over the floor, and even some on the ceiling. Not an easy clean-up job to say the least. Why would I do that? What got into me? Because I needed to breakdown.

I didn't realize that I needed a release, but my subconscious did. Unfortunately, my subconscious does not care about the feelings of others, and I dragged someone else through my shit on my way to resolution. I'm sorry about that.

So my friend killed himself, and that sucks. It's not fun to be alone, and hopelessness is my least favorite emotion. He would probably still be alive if he had something to strive for, something to look forward to, something, anything. May we all have hope in our lives.

My work on Hell Ride ended Friday and today I began work on Ball Don't Lie. I haven't received the script yet, but it appears to be a basketball flick. The onscreen talent includes Ludacris, Nick Cannon, Sharon Stone, and Baron Davis. I can't say I'm amped about this project yet. Maybe that's because my first day is on a Saturday. My weekend! My precious weekend!

This film doesn't qualify as "something to strive for" in my life. It's just a job. A way to hopefully pay the bills. Instead, I have been working on my scripts. I have a few shorts that I want to make, and I've been working on tightening the scripts. "Roger, You're Making Me a Fat Ass" was finished last weekend, and I sent it off to David to read. Unfortunately, he is losing a battle with his computer and hasn't read it yet, but his girlfriend shares his email and she read it. That was pretty surprising to hear. I have no problem with her reading it...in fact I love that she did. I want everyone to read my stuff. The really great news? She loved it. Reportedly, she laughed outloud multiple times while reading the script. Gooooood. I can't wait to start shooting it.

I miss him already.

2007-05-29T03:34:00.000-04:00

Rob McDill was one of my favorite people.

I'll believe it when...

2007-05-27T23:27:00.000-04:00

This is in reference to these stories:
this-a-one and that-a-one

I first found them both at Fazed.

Git! Git! Git! Git them Duke Boys!

2007-05-23T12:48:00.000-04:00

I have a feeling that this training does not include too much book larnin'.

Dot Commmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

2007-05-15T18:02:00.000-04:00

I arrived at David Carradine’s house ten minutes late, but I waited in my car for another thirty before he came out. While I waited, I got to know his dogs a little bit. He has a Golden Retriever and some kind of St. Bernard-type dog. If a man’s dogs’ personalities are any indication of his own disposition, then David was going to be friendly, aggressive, and may try to mount me. His wife came outside to tell me that he was throwing down some coffee and would be out in a minute, so I sat in my car and ruined my outlook on sports by reading Game of Shadows. I wonder if I can get human growth hormone in Mexico. I want to try steroids. Just once or twice. Just enough to get these guns going.

David came out and practically had sex with his wife just outside my car. As they embraced, they were enthusiastically joined by the Golden, but I think the St. Bernard gets a little turned off by PDA. Eventually, David made his way into the passenger seat of my Sentra, didn’t shake my hand, and we were off.

As far as celebrities go, David Carradine is a nice guy. He was very gregarious the whole drive to the studios. This is in direct contrast to John Larroquette who spent the first five-plus rides with me in brooding silence before eventually opening up…some. David owns a Ferrari, and he loves to talk about it. He has also owned a Mazarati and a convertible Cadillac of some kind, but he did not enjoy them nearly as much as his 1993 Ferrari. I asked him if he takes it anywhere and opens it up, but he does not. “I don’t like talking to cops,” he remarked. “It’s not like it used to be. I used to get a ticket for going 140mph and my agent knew someone in the Hall of Records who would take care of everything and it only cost me 100 bucks. Now they take you to jail.” I hear that. I never drive my Sentra more than 120mph for that very reason.

Immediately after sitting in my car, David lit up a cigarette. He didn’t ask if he could smoke in my car, and I didn’t tell him he couldn’t. He’s a celebrity. This is what they do. They can be as rude as they want whenever they want. For most of their life, people have catered to all of their eccentricities and demands so much that they no longer are capable of seeing others as equals. Could I have told him that he can’t smoke in my car? I suppose…and he probably would have obliged. But, then you can count on word getting back to my dozens of bosses that I was not courteous to David Carradine, and soon I would be jobless. Hey, at least it wasn’t Dennis Hopper. He lit up two cigars in another Production Assistant’s car. Would you ever get into a stranger’s car and just light up a cigarette without asking? Think about that. It is so brazen!

I’m sitting in my car outside of KNB Studios where they do prosthetics and anima-tronics. David’s getting a rubber head cast for the film. Inside the studio there are examples of some of their work. Aslan the Lion greets you as soon as you walk in the door, and David was immediately taken by him. He patted and groped and basically manhandled our Feline Lord right in front of one of the technicians. The technician had a look on his face like some celebrity had just lit up a cigarette in his car without asking. At least David was complimentary about the lion. He really loved it as opposed to the Boar/Warthog creatures which he called "just a joke"…in front of the technician...who probably made that boar himself.

Celebrities are funny. Here are some pictures I took at KNB.

These jokes were in Chronic (what?) cles of Narnia.

Oink

Don't let this guy hold your baby.

Frankenstein started the whole jacket-with-no-tie look.

I'm sad because I have nobody in my life. No body.

The blog entry to end all blog entries! Part III

2007-05-11T14:34:00.000-04:00

So back on the road I went. I should seriously consider becoming a long haul truck driver. I love driving!

The trip to California started off with an important decision at a Southern Indiana pit stop.

It actually wasn't that tough of a decision. One of these places doesn't exist in California, so it was time for one last hurrah.

I'm having difficulty coming up with anything interesting to say about my trip. Maybe nothing happened. Or maybe my brain isn't working right now because my officemate is pelting me with a constant barrage of Elton John and Tori Amos. Are you reading this, Lisha? Stop it. Stop it now.

So, I hit some bugs on the way.

I arrived in Tempe, Arizona a little after noon the day before the Last Comic Standing auditions.

I didn't see anyone in line, yet. Sweet. I could relax, find a nice spot to camp out, play some guitar, work on some new knock-knock-jokes, and wait for tomorr--whoa! What was this behind the club?

Comics

More Comics

Comics with Tents

Comics with Ass Cracks

A Plethora of Comics

There were over 100 comics already in line, and a lot of them appeared to have been there for a looooong time. It was clear that I wasn't going to get to audition. Now what?

Off to Vegas I went. It was my first visit since I started playing poker, and I wanted to see what the atmosphere was like. Small. The poker rooms are tiny compared to the Commerce Casino in Los Angeles. I was really surprised. I hate talking poker on here, since I get the feeling that this is when my average reader tunes me out. Blah blah blah sat at 1/2NL table at MGM blah blah blah played for about 5 hours blah blah blah won $200 blah blah blah saw Antonio Esfandiari playing a guy that might have been David Sklansky at the Bellagio blah blah blah.

And now I'm in Los Angeles...and there are stories to tell already!

The blog entry to end all blog entries! Part II

2007-05-04T12:17:00.000-04:00

Grooming is a situational activity. I participate in varying amounts of self-maint-enance (external) everyday, and somedays, like the days where I play Madden all day long, that means no grooming at all. When more major events come along, like dates or auditions for Last Comic Standing, I do a full upkeep. I break out the razors, tweezers, loofahs, power washer, and turpentine. When you are getting detailed, you learn a lot about yourself, and I'm not going to qualify that statement as purely physical. Your mental makeup has a direct relation to your physical appearance. This means that somewhere in the recesses of my mind there is a part of me that is oblivious to things that normally should be noticed more quickly, things that should be corralled, things that should be contained, specifically things that should be tweezed. Oh yes, whilst performing a full body inspection I found an anomaly that my conscious self cannot allow, something that shook the foundations of my vanity, something that made me question the very direction of my life! I found a rogue hair growing out of the top of my ear.

That sucker was over a half inch! How long had it been there? It surely didn't just pop out over night! Have people been secretly referring to me as Hairy Ears? Or just Harold? Needless to say, this was a pretty disturbing moment. Evolutionarily speaking, how could this giant hair on the top of my ear ever benefit me? Warmth? Wind protection? Help in finding a mate outside my species? What am I? A Hobbit?? It had to go and was immediately plucked. Since this moment, I have been making routine inspections of the tops of my ears. There are some tiny hairs there, but nothing out of the ordinary. I feel like they are waiting for me to let my guard down. Someday, not too far off in the future, I may wake up to find my entire head wrapped in a cocoon of ear hair from which my cranium will emerge in a couple weeks with giant ear wings with which I will fly off to the Isle of Misfit Boys and live the rest of my days in freakish splendor.

I arrived at the comedy club for the Last Comic Standing auditions a little after 3am on the day of the auditions. It was cold. This is Minnesota, remember. It was f'ing fucking cold. And windy. F'ing fucking windy. And cold. When I got there, a few people were sleeping in sleeping bags, but the line was not very long. I counted about thirty people. I froze at the end of the line for about twenty minutes when I realized that the line wasn't getting any longer. I could go sit in my warm car and wait for more people to arrive before jumping back in line, which I did. At about 5:30, more comics began to show up, so I got back in line in the exact spot I was in before.

After freezing for a couple more hours, someone in line near me asks, "Did you sign the list?" List? What list? There's a list? Whose list? There is no one from the show here with a list. I ran to the front of the line where there was a comic with his own makeshift list. This jackass starts off by telling me that everyone is honoring the list and then proceeds to sign me in...as number 154! There weren't even fifty people in line! This isn't even an official list! The guy with the list was number four! I was pissed. Instantly fumingly enraged. Apparently, the local comics at this club had been signing up their friends and whoever else, and these hacks all went home and slept all night while a few of them stayed in line. "This guy's been here for two days," the comic says as he points to a dude in a sleeping bag who gives me thumbs up. "Two days?" I ask. "You better be fucking funny." And I'm certain he wasn't. None of them were.

No one in that line made me laugh all day. 99% of that crowd didn't even have more than three minutes of material. How were they expecting to even do the show without material? Jerry Seinfeld wants to know who are these people! So, I didn't get to audition. I got windburn, sunburn, and lost a nipple, but I did not get the pleasure of having Ant (pictured) tell me I'm not funny. I did however get to do some jokes for a couple reporters from the Minneapolis Star Tribune, which you can see right here. I'm the guy at the beginning and end. Oh, and please notice that I'm wearing every article of clothing that I own, because MINNESOTA IS A GLACIER.

Pictures!

Well, Minneapolis wasn't the last stop for Last Comic Standing auditions. They were going to San Antonio in a couple days and Tempe in a week. I realized that Tempe was on the way to Los Angeles, and I was planning on moving back in a couple weeks anyway. Why not move my trip forward a little bit and stop in Tempe for the audition on the way? That's a great idea! Let's do that! Check back for Part III where I say goodbye to Indiana and hello to a tightly packed Nissan Sentra.

The blog entry to end all blog entries! Part I

2007-04-30T12:13:00.000-04:00

It can't really end all blog entries...I mean, it's Part I! What about the other parts? This title is preposterous! It's self-defeating! It's ironic!

When we last left our hero, he had just quit his job and took off for Minneapolis to audition for Last Comic Standing. It was time to get the hell out of Indiana, and there's nothing like a little life upheaval to get you motivated. Additionally, if there is no danger of starving to death, I'm just not happy, so wind meet caution and here we go.

I love road trips. I love driving. I love myself. I love driving on road trips by myself. This particular trip took me north through Chicago, Southern Wisconsin, and into Minneapolis on the eastern edge of Minnesota.

The first stretch of this trip can be summed up in two words: Toll Road. This particular toll road is brutal. And it’s not the total price of the road that’s so wickedly cruel. It’s the amount of stops. You can barely drive 5 miles on this road before having to pull up to a booth and shell out anywhere from 15¢ to $1.50. When I’m on the road, I want to go. Let’s f’ing drive, man. All these stops are momentum killers. Oh, I like to make stops, but my kind of stops involve caffeinated beverage purchases, refueling, bladder relaxers, and deep knee bends; none of which you can do at a toll booth. The Toll Road Barons want you to purchase their speed pass, so they make paying with cash as annoying as possible. They don’t even post how much to pay at each toll booth until you get all the way up to the window! I could have had exact change ready, you assholes! Exact change!

Ah...the open road!

One of Satan's merchants

Wisconsin didn’t have toll roads, fortunately. They did however have cops. A lot of cops. Before I left, my dad continually referenced Wisconsin as one giant speed trap, and I discovered how right he was soon after entering the state as I saw three state troopers on a single off ramp ready to stop any speeders that an additional cop was shooting with a speed gun from the bridge above. I don't have any pictures of the Wisconsin fuzz, because I was too paralyzed with fear to think about photojournalism. However, I'm pretty sure that outside of their cruisers they all look like the guy to the right.

I went through two crazy rainstorms in Wisconsin. They were hard, heavy, lasted five minutes each, and the sun shone the whole time.

It's raining if you can't tell.

Once the rain stopped, I experienced a much more pleasant force of nature.

Nathaniel saw this picture and said something about Jah.

Who's Nathaniel? I hate qualifying everyone I write about as "a friend of mine" or "this guy I know" or "my deformed friend." This is his Myspace. Go make friends.

I arrived in Minneapolis a day early, so I got a hotel room and relaxed. (It's a little embarrassing to reveal how early I arrived considering what was to happen...) The next day I went over to the comedy club and saw that no one was lining up yet. So what does one do when they’re in Minneapolis with time to kill?

One goes shopping.

Here are some of the highlights of my visit to the Mall of America:

I couldn't fit the whole directory in the shot.

I rode the horse bush.

Learn proper grooming at a young age.

I want to be cool!

Well...not that cool

Obligatory weed joke

Now where is that ferris wheel?

Ah, right next to the Starbucks

No, the other Starbucks

This one has better coffee anyway.

For your heavy shopping needs

Who starts in the mailroom these days?

If it weren't for mannequins, I'd have no idea how to dress!

Am I the only one a little turned on right now?

If I had a time machine, I'd go back to the time of prohibition and get hammered.

Now, where is the exit?

Check back for Part II coming very soon (maybe tomorrow) in which I discover hair in an interesting place, wait in line with hundreds of migraine-inducing comics, make a major decision out on the road, and risk my whole roll in Vegas! ...hmm, I may need a Part III.

Until We Meet Again

2007-03-25T11:28:00.000-04:00

I'm off to Minneapolis for the audition. Wish me luck and try to cope with my internet silence for a few days. It will be difficult, I know.

I don't know why you say goodbye. I say hello.

2007-03-23T10:16:00.001-04:00

Today is my final day at work, my last day of helping people get their cars repo'd. That is, unless I end up doing that in Los Angeles. It's not what I hope to be doing, though. No, no. I'm looking to have a breakthrough career in softcore porn. That's why I posted those sexy pictures of myself. I'm trying to get used to people ogling my hot body. Ogle away, you deviants!

Dan has already accused me of shaving my chest. This is not true! I do not shave my chest hair! ...I trim it with clippers. Look, I get hairy. Ok? And I deal with it. Shaving is abrasive. Nair is worse. It's true. I once tried Nair-ing my chest. It says on the bottle that it will make your skin sensitive...it also says to rub the hair off with a towel. Well, I didn't pay much attention to the first part, but I attacked the towel-rubbing session with vigor. Once I finished, my chest was hairless, and it also looked like a baboon's ass. I almost lost a nipple.

I Heart U

I have no place to live in Los Angeles as of yet, but I do have places I can stay. I'll most likely be crashing at my friend David's apartment which is located in the armpit of Hollywood and Highland. It smells like an armpit, as well. But beggars can't be choosers, and I do appreciate the generosity. I will have to be careful, though. As my deformed friend Jade told me, there's a high probability that I could contract some diseases. Top of that list? Feline aids.

Anyone dare me to do a Knock Knock Joke at my Last Comic Standing audition? I'm seriously considering it. Part of my demented brain believes it might actually work. They all said I was insane! They all said it would never work!! Bwahahahaha!!!

Boo who?

Actually, if I do the Knock Knock Joke, it's highly likely I'd make the television broadcast as "The Idiot That Tried A Knock Knock Joke". I can live with that.

I'm offended by "fat chicks". The term, not the fat chicks...err women of large build.

2007-03-21T09:27:00.000-04:00

One week remains until the Last Comic Standing auditions in Minneapolis, and last night I gave my final open mic performance in preparation for my attempt in front of a crowd consisting of four teenage dudes smoking Marlboros and seven other comedians. Optimum conditions for comedy. I had a few new jokes I gave a whirl and the teen smoke patrol liked one of them. Here it is:

I rarely have a girlfriend because when it comes to relationships, I'm very picky. Please notice that I said relationships and not relations. When it comes to relations my motto is Carpe Diem...which translates to "Seize the Fat Chick."

Note to all girls I've ever been intimate with: that is just a joke. Each one of you is special.

I was a little distracted during my act because one of the kids up front kept reminding me of someone, but I couldn't figure out who it was. It was his hair that did it. It was really weird. Then I finally figured out who it was:

Now an option at SuperCuts

I got some advice from a friend who already auditioned for Last Comic Standing in Los Angeles. She wrote that I have to hit it hard and fast and that I'll be lucky to get more than one minute onstage. Well, that's good news since I only have four total minutes of material...and three of those are fat chick jokes. She also told me that the producers are looking for certain "types" of people. This is perfect for me. I'm hoping to fill the obese Vietnamese angry Black woman type...or possibly the soft edgy guy with the hard heart of gold. America will love me.

There was a high percentage of smokers in the crowd last night. Did you ever notice that whenever cigarettes are mentioned to a smoker that they immediately light up? You can talk about a monkey you saw at the fair that smoked through his asshole, and they will light up a cigarette. You can tell them about a gruesome Public Service Announcement on television about smoking and the thousands and millions of people that die horrible, painful deaths each year due to lung cancer, and they will go for their pack with a quickness. You can talk about an orphanage that burnt to the ground killing scores of innocent children all because of an evil spinster that managed the orphanage fell asleep while smoking in bed, and they will light three cigarettes at once, one for the mouth and one for each nostril. Did you know that Pavlov's dogs had a pack-a-day habit?

Every smoker that read the last paragraph just lit up a cigarette.

I was surprised at how many people in Chicago didn't smoke. It must be all the kickboxing. I should start an anti-smoking/kickboxing campaign. Kickbox the Habit! Man, I have good ideas.

Things I learned from St. Patrick's Day in Chicago

2007-03-19T08:32:00.000-04:00

1. Brady Quinn's stepbrother doesn't have faith in his upcoming NFL career...and he's not afraid to have a conversation at a urinal.

2. All air mattresses are not created equal. "I am so tired. I think I'll go lay back down on that air mattress and wake myself up."

3. If I ever join a gym again, I'm going to the kickboxing class as much as possible. I was the only guy in there, and these girls looked great. I mean, they kickbox.

4. The "kick" in kickboxing refers to your ass the next morning.

5. If a girl catches you doing pushups in her kitchen late at night, she will make fun of you.

6. Do as many pushups as you can as often as you can. Chicks dig beach bodies.

7. Beautiful Girls is a good movie. I think. I watched it twice, but saw very little of it.

8. You only need to eat one meal in the morning if you drink Guinness the rest of the day.

9. Chicago is loud, crowded, and cold...and I dug it.

10. If you're handicapped and live in Chicago, you might as well move. Stairs everywhere.

11. You can fit 6 people in a taxi.

12. The toll road leading into Chicago is a rip off. They should pay you to wait in that line.

13. The "kick" in kickboxing refers to your ass two days later.

Holy Holy Kleenex

2007-03-16T09:09:00.000-04:00

I sneeze a lot. Maybe more than most, I'm not sure. I know I sneeze daily. When I do sneeze, I usually rip off at least three in a row, too. I go whole hog when I sneeze. I don't hold it in, because I don't want my eyeballs to pop out nor do I want a brain aneurysm. It's true. That could happen. Look it up. Personally, I believe that people who hold their sneezes in have psychological issues that they should investigate. Somewhere in their upbringing they received negative reinforcement for sneezing. They were embarrassed by classmates or their parents scolded them for sneezing loudly in church, and that is a shame. Sneezing is natural, necessary, and totally enjoyable when done with vigor.

Now that we have established that everyone sneezes and it's a normal and possibly daily occurence, can we please dispense with all unnecessary superstition and outdated tradition that follows a sneeze? I'm referring to saying, "Bless you!" after everytime someone sneezes. I don't say, "Bless you!" when others sneeze, and I have had people tell me that this makes me rude. Rude? Do you really believe that a sneeze is an indicator of demonic possession? I don't. Do not waste your blessings on imaginary sneeze demons. And the next time someone says I'm rude for not blessing their sneezes I will chastise them for not holding the door for my imaginary friends.

Furthermore, I don't need you to acknowledge my sneezes at all! When I sneeze, we all know what happened. Anyone in a two-mile radius knows what happened. We can just move on without any formalities. The other day at work I had a minor sneezing fit. I rattled off about four or five (nowhere near my record eleven), and the girl across from me looks over and says in all seriousness, "Are you all right?" So I responded, "No! I'm definitely not all right! I think something is seriously wrong with me! It might be cancer! Please get help, immediately!" Pause for silence. "Why are you all just sitting there? Didn't you just hear me sneezing?! Someone call a doctor!"

Of course, this girl is one of those people that hold back their sneezes. That is a personality flaw. So is asking someone who just sneezed if they're all right. If you do this, please stop or face my ridicule.

I'm a Huge Fan

2007-03-14T08:42:00.000-04:00

In lieu of the recent popularity of my site thanks to AOL and Google image searches, I have officially declared Single File Eyes the unofficial fansite of Jamie Foxx. Some of you may be thinking, "Noel, I don't come here to read about Jamie Foxx! I come here for your comedic observations and abdominal muscle updates!" Well, you are outnumbered. If you want to discuss abs, then I suggest you check out Mr. Foxx's midsection in the pictures in the post below this one. I mean, they're the real reason my site is taking off! You and me, Jamie. Together we will take the internet by storm!

Sex Symbol

Face it. Jamie Foxx is an international superstar who has successfully crossed genres from comedy to seriousity to sexosity back to comedy with a little bit of singerosity mixed in. This cannot be denied, and I will not ignore his fame anymore! Jamie Foxx, you are a god among men. Hallowed be thy sweaty abs.

I put in a little stage time last night and had a pretty good set. I seem to be alternating between bombing and doing well lately. Same material. Same energy. It's gotta be the audiences...or the shoes. I wore hightops last night, and a couple of my jokes achieved a tad more hangtime than expected. (rim shot) I don't have much time before the Last Comic Standing audition, so I'm really pushing to write more material. I'm also working on a good story to help me win over the hearts of America. I'm considering getting a tattoo of my baby who died.

The cartoon is in a holding pattern lately, because Ivan took a much needed vacation to Miami. Seriously, this guy works too hard, and I'm glad he finally took some time off. Can you imagine putting in three-hour shifts, day in and day out and day out, occasionally having to actually go into the office?? Incredible, this man's fortitude.

Ivan goes body surfing.

I lied. Let's talk about my abs some more. Ivan has not been bringing it. He's soft. Doughy. Marriage has sucked his will to get a beach body. Not me, though. I'm still motivated and have an ab update for you. I have earned a crease! That's right, a crease has formed down the upper middle of my stomach. I'm very excited about my new crease, and I can't stop touching it. I've been running my fingers down my crease all day. I have to do this secretly, though. I don't want any of my co-workers to see me fondling my crease. If they did catch me, I'd probably have to end up showing them my crease, and then they'll want to touch my crease...and I'm pretty sure we have a company policy against sticking your fingers in another employee's crease.

Flashback

2007-03-12T19:51:00.000-04:00

The number one keyword people are using to find my site is "Jamie Foxx" because of a post I made last year. Well, if this is what the peoples wants, then the peoples is gonna gets whats they wants.

Introducing a new fragrance by Jamie Foxx.

Original idea by Ronan Duncan.

I write the poop the whole world flings.

2007-03-11T19:42:00.000-04:00

Untapped 07

Untapped 08

It's a two-fer!

Strategory

2007-03-09T08:35:00.000-05:00

My time assisting others in getting their cars repossessed is coming to an end. Turning in my two week notice, which I did yesterday, was a difficult decision for me. I enjoy helping people. I'm a giver. It's what I do. And giving people's cars, trucks, and occasionally their campers back to the financial institutions that provided the loans was a rewarding job. The joy I heard in the voices of customers when I told them how to contact certain repo agents to retrieve their babyseats which had been taken in the middle of the night along with their only means of transportation was more fulfilling than you might imagine. Though they might have said, "But I don't have a car to get to the agent's office!" I heard, "Thank you, kind sir. You have been an angel of mercy to me in this world of darkness and despair!" Well, you are welcome, gentle debtors of America. I will miss you, courageous credit challenged ghetto dwellers. Be well, sudden illness caused you to lose your job and your ex-spouse isn't making payments on the car you cosigned and your 65-year-old father used identity theft of your 3-year-old daughter to get a loan and you're in jail or Iraq or jail in Iraq or on an Indian reservation where no one has an address except for "3 miles south of the Jiffy Lube" beautiful people. You are the life blood of this great nation, and I salute you.

But alas, it is time for me to move on.

Soon after I arrived here in Indiana I heard Claude Stuart on the Bob and Tom Show. I know Claude from doing comedy in Los Angeles, and you can read all about this in a previous entry. Well, yesterday I read a bulletin from Mr. Stuart on Myspace that announced he is back in Indianapolis and performing at Crackers downtown. I don't know all the places that Claude performs, but wherever else he may go, he's done all that and is back in town again. The circle of comedy has once again been completed, and thus, it is time for me to also begin to spin. And no, I'm not going to his show.

I'm cereal about comedy!

And so my journey towards career redemption begins. First stop, Minneapolis for the Last Comic Standing auditions on March 27. I get to perform my best two minutes in front of two producers. As to what those two minutes are, I still have no idea. Maybe I'll write something new. Something fresh. Something original. Something about airline food. Maybe I'll do a Seinfeld impression. Years ago I wrote an original Seindeldian joke that probably only I think is funny.

{Seinfeld voice}
I've been hearing people say that they are down lately. "I'm down with this." or "I'm down with that." How did these people become so down? If they are down now, did they used to be up? And if they were up, did they not like it? I-I-I-I-I prefer to be up!

Just remember. If I tell a joke and you don't laugh, you don't get it, and should be ashamed of yourself.

I am assuming that I will be going up against a lot of comics that have a ton more experience than me, so I'm going to need to find an edge. I have decided on the Antonella Barba strategy. I won't be as funny or refined as the other comedians, however I will be publishing racy pictures of myself on the internet. America loves a good slut, and I'm going to give them one.

Coughing Up a Hairball

2007-03-07T08:29:00.000-05:00

It's the Year of the Pig. This year brings luck to...someone...maybe only those born in the Year of the Pig. Not everyone can be lucky at the same time. In fact, I believe that if one person is receiving a certain amount of luck then that means that someone else is being given an equal helping of bad luck. This is from Newton's Third Law of the Pig. I suppose actual pigs are supposed to be getting some luck right now at least. My parents did just accidentally buy turkey bacon the other day. Hey, turkeys received an equal amount of bad luck! Theory proven!

From what I've seen so far, this definitely isn't the Year of the Cat. I've seen more cat roadkill in the past few weeks than I can every remember. There's one crushed kitty that I have passed on the way to work for the past two weeks now. It's been run over so many times that it's almost become part of the road, like the road is carpeted in one spot. I'm not sure if roadkill patrol actually exists around here or if the city just lets nature and machinery work itself out. It's almost pothole season, so maybe city officials are waiting for those to open up so they can dump the highway kill into them.

I bombed on stage again last night, and it doesn't faze me one bit. I just don't really do penis jokes like the crowd seemed to want, and I'm not going to do a routine about the first time I went down on a girl like an 18-year-old rookie did last night. Some poor girl out there doesn't know it (she probably soon will, though) but her unkempt, sweet sixteen nether regions are now being openly discussed on stage in Carmel Indiana. I'm referring to her age as being "sweet", not her nether regions. According to the kid onstage, there was nothing sweet about them. Ladies, if you are considering getting intimate with someone who has a penchant for performing comedy, I would think twice. There's a good chance that your privates may be compared to a briar patch in front of a bunch of people. I realize that I'm shooting myself in the briar patch here, but I am an exception to this possibility. I will never go there onstage...and girls will never stop liking comedians, so all of this is pointless anyway. What a tangled web we weave...and hopefully groom.

I'm irregular............my heart is, I mean.

2007-03-01T08:49:00.000-05:00

Ahhhh! There's nothing like that first cup of coffee in the morning. Not that I need it. I'm wide awake. I have been eating fruit for breakfast and the sugars in these here grapes have really got me going. However, I decided to grab a cup of java anyways. Coffee is good for you. I heard that it's good for your heart and possibly your spleen and maybe your inner ear. But even though I am on a health conscious kick, this isn't why I'm gulping down a pint of hot and black sweetness. Nope. It's because I'm a tweaker.

TWEAK!!

I have a legal recreational drug habit. Some people like to say that they have an addictive personality. Well, that may be true with me, but mainly I just like a good caffeine high. I've cut my drinking way down and I no longer smoke, but I am still caffeine's bitch. Maybe this is why I'm so thin...and vibrate constantly. My legs are in constant motion under my desk. There are now advertisements for medication for Restless Leg Syndrome, and I recently overheard a conversation where a guy admitted to having this Syndrome...like he was proud of it. Does this even exist, or are people simply in denial about their caffeine addiction and a drug company has found a way to make money off this? Is it easier to take a pill to stop your legs from shaking than to admit to yourself that you have a weakness to the uncontrollable urge to amp your heartbeats up to 200/minute?

I may go get another cup. Work is dead today.

I've been in communication with the girl that ripped my heart out, put it through a strainer, and made tea with it. She's found Jesus now, which is good. Apparently, she felt like her life was spinning out of control and religion can be a soft landing pad. However, I'm still boned on ever winning her. When we first met, I was too good and nice for her...and now I'm too evil. Besides, she only likes guys that she has to work hard for, and I'm a softball lob of love. I suppose I could call her, ask her how she's doing, and then tell her to go fuck herself. That actually might work. What's the worst that could happen? That I might really, really, really, really, really never win her over? After I tell her to go fuck herself, do I hang up immediately or stay on the line to hear her response? What's the correct play? It's a delicate thing...telling someone you love to go fuck themself.

Chica: (ring, ring) Hello?

Noel: Hey, it's Noel. How's it going?

Chica: Oh, hi Noel! Pretty good. I found Jesus!

Noel: That's great! I found Waldo! Just kidding. I'm really happy for you!

Chica: Thank you! I'm really starting to feel that my life has meaning.

Noel: I know what you mean. Oh hey, I wanted to tell you something.

Chica: What's that?

Noel: Go fuck yourself.

(long pause)

Chica: What?

Noel: Go fuck yourself.

(long pause)

Chica: I love you.

Cubicle Sit In!

2007-02-28T09:36:00.000-05:00

The Nazis are marching once again. You may not realize this, but they are back in full force. However, they are very difficult to spot for most. These Nazis have traded in their uniforms for striped ties, their Lugers for coffee mugs, and their German Shepards for framed Successories posters. Well, this Lugar (er...Montgomery) isn't fooled. How can I be when they impose their imperialistic will upon me daily? Why would they do this to me, you ask? Why pick on Noel? Isn't it obvious? Let me help you. The maiden name of one of my great-grandparents was Gould. Gould. Are you starting to put the pieces together? That's right. I'm 1/8 Jewish.

My boss' adorable children

The Powers That Abuse have decreed that no internet usage unless business related shall be allowed at work. Well, this Jew just so happens to be the #1 offender of this policy. But what do they expect me to do while I'm on hold all day? I can't do any other work, so why shouldn't I be able to read the news and entertain my tens of readers with these informative and exclusive blog entries? If I'm getting my work done, impressing the clients, and doing more than my other team members, then management shouldn't worry about my occasional exposure to the world via the internet. Screw their rules. I'm breakin' them. Fire me. The Nazis will only hurt themselves, and I'm leaving soon anyway.

They're standing right behind me. Aren't they?

Changing the subject, I have a special announcement to make. There has been a new birth in my family, and I am the proud father. Early this morning, at 12:30am, I gave birth to a strong, healthy abdominal muscle. He's upper left and beautiful. I'm naming him Abby, but don't worry about him getting picked on. He's tough as nails.

Aaaaaah! Oh, they're in my eyes!!!

2007-02-27T20:22:00.000-05:00

Wickerman just made the top of my Netflix queue.

Don't worry about the script.

2007-02-26T09:24:00.000-05:00

Thank God Little Miss Sunshine didn't win Best Picture. It was the only one of the nominated movies that I have seen, and I loved it. However, it had these flaws that just killed me. Script flaws. Story flaws. Serious script story flaws. And it won for Original Screenplay which is a complete traveshamockery! You might say that I'm being picky with my criticisms here, but this is the Oscars! It's supposed to be the best of the best, and if some hack wannabe writer in Carmel, Indiana can spot giant blemishes in a script then certainly the Academy should as well.

Huge Flaw #1:
At a gas station in the middle of nowhere, Frank (Steve Carell) bumps into his ex-lover and his rival. This bothered the hell out of me. Coincidence as a drving force in a script is weak writing. I read recently on a site that agrees with me that this moment brought new meaning to the term Convenience Store. Terrible, horrible B-movie stuff there, and this moment alone should have knocked this movie out of the running for any screenwriting awards.

I needed one of these after that scene.

Semi-Huge flaw #2:
Olive (Abigail Breslin) is giving her brother Dwayne (Paul Dano) an eye test in the car and he discovers that he's color blind and won't be able to fly in the Air Force which is all he lives for. More crap. When I first saw this moment, I thought it was going to be a joke. Who finds out they're color blind when they're 17? Don't they test for that in school anymore? I remember taking this test many times before highschool. Whatever, it doesn't matter anyways because the previous flaw was so huge that the integrity of the script was already ruined.

Can you spot the sailboat?

Don't get me wrong. I loved this movie. The fact that I thoroughly enjoyed it despite these problems is a testament to how entertaining it is. Yet, the fact that it was nominated for Best Picture and won Best Original Screenplay is a testament to how poor movies are lately.

I don't even care about movies that much lately. I'm much more interested in my sit-ups. I've taken my addiction to sit-ups too far and hurt myself. I pulled something somewhere. I was only doing about 300 crunches-a-day. What's the problem with that? Well, now I've got pain in my lower right abdomen, so I've got to chill out for a little while. I still did 40 this morning, though.

Maybe my ab pain is why I'm so cranky about the Oscars. Maybe I'm sexually frustrated. Well, I'm definitely sexually frustrated, but I really don't think I'm that cranky about anything really. I am without worry. I read On The Road by Jack Keroac recently and there is this great passage about people worrying that highly effected me. Mainly, the idea that people who worry realize that they worry and that worries them, too! So, I have cut worrying out of my diet. I'm still aware that things need to be accomplished, but now I just do them without the worry.

I have no woman in my life. No worries, I'll just take the steps to help change this. I'll keep in better contact with the girls I know, I'll work to meet more women, and I'll stay healthy.

I have no career. No worries, I'll just continue to create daily, and allow opportunities to present themselves.

I'm stuck in the writing of the third episode of Highly Effective Device. No worries, I'll just steal from other cartoons.

See? I be happy already!

I don't want to freak you out...too late.

2007-02-23T08:31:00.001-05:00

You all are deformed!

This is what a girl in my third grade class once shouted to everybody in the class while our teacher was out of the room. She was a girl that used to get picked on a little, but she was far from an innocent, sympathetic character as she started most of the arguments she got into. I can't remember her name, but I do remember her calling us deformed, and I remember that we ratted her out when the teacher returned. Did I even know what it meant to be deformed? Usually the insult du jour was to call someone a retard or say they were retarded or call them a retarded retard. But deformed? That was a new one and probably why I can still remember it.

As far as I can tell, I am not deformed. However, one of my close friends is. She only recently learned of her deformity, though she suspected it all along. I cannot say that I thought she was deformed. Just a little off, that's all. She's always been able to do this interesting trick with her hands where she would bend her fingers in an unnatural way that made it look like she had claws. We thought she was double jointed, but according to the doctor, it turns out that she's deformed. She has Swan Neck Deformity.

Swan Neck Deformity

Now that I know that she is deformed, everything changes. I have to treat her differently, like I would treat any deformed person. These are trying times for her, and she needs my support. You better believe I'll be there for her, too. Let's say for example that we are out grocery shopping and some aggressive soccer mom cuts my friend off with her cart in order to grab the last box of Snackwells. I can no longer stand by silently when something like this happens. Instead, now I will forcefully say to this woman, "Hey! Watch where you're going, you insensitive cow! You just cut off my friend! Can't you see that she's deformed?? Or maybe you did see that she's deformed and that's why you cut her off! Just because she's deformed doesn't give you that right! Now if you would please move your cart to the side, we would like to head to frozen foods. Clear the way, people! Deformed girl coming through!"

I see you're a little different.

Her fiancé will most likely leave her soon. It's hard to be too angry with him. Being in a relationship with someone who has a deformity can be a difficult thing, and for some it is just simply asking too much. Of course, I will still be around to support her through this. When she's ready, I will help her fill out her application to Match.com in the deformity division, so she can find that "special" someone like herself who is just as grossly disfigured as she is. It's best for people with specific disabilities to be in relationships with others that have the same challenges. I mean, it's practically a rule of nature. Midgets often date midgets, deaf people with other deaf people, blind with blind, fat and ugly with fat and ugly. And, of course, the deformed with the deformed. And I'll be there to help lead her on this path toward acceptance and healing, to point her towards the other deformed who will be waiting for her with open, mangled arms.

I really shouldn't. Aw hell, just one--CHOMP!

Does being friends with someone who has deformity make me a better person? I think it does. I have learned much about the struggles of living with deformity, and it's helped me grow not only in understanding but spiritually as well. I feel that my aura has strengthened. As an added bonus, I have also grown more physically attactive. This is just a pleasant side effect of being around a deformed person. I am so satisfied with the benefits I have received from having a deformed friend that I am considering beginning a program where you can be matched with your own deformed friend. It's like a deformity outreach program. I'll call it Big Brothers and Big Deformities....or Deformities on Wheels or something. Now remember. You're not supposed to get romantic with your assigned deformed friend, not unless you find that you are deformed as well.

I am also considering starting a Deformed Parade for Deformity Awareness. Everyday, the deformed have to put up with the constant gawking and pointing from strangers as they go out in public. Instead, let's have a day when all of the deformed ride on giant floats through the downtown streets of every major city nationwide and the normal/non-deformed citizens come out to see all of them at once and collectively as a group. This will be the annual Day of Staring when everyone gets all the gawking out of their system at once and the rest of the year, the deformed can go about their daily routines without feeling like everyone's looking at them. This is such a good idea, that I will no doubt get nominated for some major awards and probably get to go on Oprah. But it's not about me, you see. No, no. It's about the deformed. It's about looking at the deformed and learning. It's about looking at my deformed friend and learning about her deformity. You know, since the parade is my idea, I'm going to go ahead and crown the Queen of the Deformed right now. This honor goes to my good (and deformed) friend, Queen Jade. She's not a retarded retard. Nope, just deformed.

A Real Ass

2007-02-20T08:36:00.000-05:00

Apparently, I got fooled by the most incredible butt prosthesis of all time! Good one, Niecy. You got me...and many others. According to that article she lost a bunch of weight from Jenny Craig. I knew that she had dropped a bunch of poundage, too. I guess I just assumed it came back with a vengeance when I saw that first picture. You really have to hand it to Jenny Craig. Apparently, they've expanded their methods to beyond just dieting and exercise and now offer miracles as well.

I remember seeing Ms. Nash barely being able to walk with a cane after she "hurt her back", and it was a very slimming accident indeed. Now, it's not a bad thing to "hurt your back". That is just fine. Go on with your back injuring, butt slicing, thigh sucking self. Just don't be telling the world that Jenny Craig deserves the credit!

Smooth Flavor

2007-02-19T09:32:00.001-05:00

The women in Indiana are smokin'!!!

Seriously, they all smoke. Almost every girl at work can be seen periodically outside the door of shame smoking a cigarette in 10 degree weather. I don't pass irreconcilable judgement against them for smoking, as I was once a smoker, and I do not fool myself to believe that I absolutely will never again be under the vice of nicotine addiction. However, smokers smell. They just do. And everytime a girl who was outside smoking walks by my cube and I get that stale odor wafting by my partially stuffed sinuses, I can't help but be a little repulsed.

I suppose I could be in a relationship with a girl that smoked. It's possible. But I may just have to start smoking again myself, just so we both stink. Every smoker knows that they are impervious to the stale smell of a cigarette smoked. When you consume a cigarette you are immediately blessed with the Radiating Shield of Funk. This shield not only protects you from funk, it repels others by putting off a funk of it's own. Putting on this shield is like telling others, "Funk me? Funk me??? Funk you, Buddy!!"

Man, now I kind of want a cigarette. You see how crazy these things are? Once you've smoked and then quit, you will constantly be hounded by the desire to smoke again! That's another problem with seeing all these people smoke all the time. It's silent peer pressure.

There. It's passed. I'm fine. I have enough other addictions to satisfy me now anyways...like situps. I'm on a crazy situp kick. I'm determined to get a six-pack. Once I get six-pack abs, I will be able to conquer the world. And once I conquer the world, I'll be able to play as many video games as I want. Which is really what life is about. The freedom to play video games.

Not to mention large tracts of land...

2007-02-16T14:00:00.000-05:00

When I worked as a producer for Clean House on the Style Network, one of my duties was to type up and oversee the voice over sessions with Niecy Nash. These sessions can be very frustrating with a lot of actors, because the recordings are so sensitive to each tiny flub, hiccup, scratch, and accent. However, Niecy was gold. She has this natural ability when it comes to performing and would fly through these sessions. We could record a whole one-hour show's worth of voice overs in 25 minutes! Needless to say, Niecy is blessed with a lot of talent. I mean, seriously! Look at the size of her talent! Have you ever seen talent that huge?? Holy talent!!!

The White Stuff

2007-02-15T14:56:00.000-05:00

It's time I got off gay people.

We got destroyed with snow again. I have shoveled the driveway too many times now, however I'm excited with the arm and back workout I got. It's rivaling my P90x extreme routine. If it keeps snowing, I'll be a monster in no time.

Hooray for pictures!

Moses was here

Child labor comes cheap

The last picture of my nephew alive

Carmel Glacier

Look at the potatoes on that guy.

2007-02-15T08:36:00.000-05:00

My attempt at making millions by announcing that I am a gay NBA player has fallen short. In fact, I can't be sure that more than one person even read my confession.

Tim Hardaway apparently hateth the gayeth. Of course, the predictable outrage will follow and his public speaking days are most likely over. However, I can't help but think that a huge percentage of people watching this story on ESPN were thinking to themselves, "Hell, I hate gay people, too! They don't belong in this world!" At least Timmy was up front with his feelings. What he said will do more to lead to understanding and sexual (orientation) healing than when I heard Rip Hamilton of the Detroit Pistons say that he couldn't know how he'd react if he found out a teammate was gay but that as long as the guy played hard and yada yada poop.

Gays are generally despised...at least here in the Midwest. I had an incident while visiting Purdue a couple weeks ago. After many beers, I went with a few friends to Triple XXX, a greasy diner for some 3am eggs and potatoes. The place was packed with drunken, jovial students. I ordered the breakfast special, got some coffee, and started cracking jokes. There was this girl a few seats down who was beyond Thunderdome. She was with her embarrassed boyfriend and I would soon learn a couple other people, and she was shouting at people all over the room. I mean, she was aggro shouting and trying to start a fight apparently. I don't understand girls like this, and I really don't understand guys that are with them. But, hey! If you're getting laid you're getting laid, right?

So the she beast starts yelling that someone is queer. I don't know who, but by this time I was ready to join the fun. I asked her, "Who's queer? I'm queer? You think I'm queer?" To which she predictably responded with "Yep, you queer! You're queer!" It's difficult for me to describe the tone and voice I was using for this next exchange. I call it blubbering hick, kind of a heavy crying, heavy whining, heavy Indiana accent, loud shout voice. Regardless, believe you me that it was hilarious. I used this voice to exclaim with fake tears, "She's callin' me queer, and I'm just tryin' to eat mah potatoes! I just came here to eat mah potatoes, and she's callin' me queer! I can't buhlieve it! She's callin' me queer! I just want some potatoes!"

The whole diner busts up laughing except for one guy I discover as someone grabs my shirt from behind and pulls back. I turn around to see who wants a piece of this, and see a thin farmboy with a whispy goatee who's drunk as hell. He says, "I think you're queer. I think you're gay."

I size him up quickly and realize he isn't a threat, so I told him to go outside and that I'd be out there in a minute. That's exactly what he did as I turn back to my friends and say that finally someone wants to fight with me and he actually skinnier than I am. Of course, I had no intention of fighting with a drunken stranger because I embarrassed some sloshed chicken who was asking for it. It was less than 10 degrees outside, and predictably he left after a few minutes while my friends and I finished our potatoes.

The morale of this story isn't that I almost got in a fight, because that happens almost everytime I go out in Indiana. It's just interesting how hate for gay people can come out completely unprovoked and unmotivated. Actually, one of my friends that I was with is gay. He stayed silent throught the whole thing, and I wasn't about to ask him about it.

For those of you reading this that are wondering if I actually might be gay, let me ask you this. Does it matter? Do you really care? For those of you who definitely think I'm gay, let me say this.

You're callin' me queer, and I'm just tryin' to make a blog entry! I just want to blog, and yer callin' me queer! I can't buhlieve it!

Coming Out of the Locker

2007-02-12T10:56:00.000-05:00

Cuban says a gay NBA player would rake.

I would like to announce that I am a gay NBA player. I've been silent for far too long, and it's time I told the world.

Noel, what is the toughest part about being gay in the NBA?

I'd have to say boxing out and being boxed out. That and the post-game showers. These eyes, they be a wanderin'!

Some say that you are using this announcement to cash in with book deals and other endorsements. Is this true?

Absolutely not. This is about awareness. This is about letting the world know that there are gays everywhere and in every sport, not just the WNBA and men's figure skating. If I happen to make a little money in the process of getting my message out, well then I guess that's just the frosting on the tip of the penis. Er...icing on the cake.

What are your plans for when you retire?

Well, I may retire from being a basketball player, but I will never retire from being gay. I look forward to becoming a gay basketball coach, a gay basketball analyst, a gay entrepreneur, a gay spokesman for hair growth products, and yes possibly a gay politician. My main focus when I retire is to help the children. I want our young gay athletes to not be afraid of letting everyone around them know about their sexual preference. And for the non-gay young athletes, I want to teach them how to accept their gay peers and possibly to experiment with becoming gay themselves. They say that everyone's a six-pack away, but I am totally against underage drinking. That's why I like to say that everyone is a pint of Gatorade away.

Uh oh! I smell endorsement!

It's a good thing I bring it.

2007-02-12T08:13:00.000-05:00

My legs are tired today! It's because zombies were chasing me all night. These weren't your run of the mill limping, creeping, Pepe Le Pew slow-moving brain eaters, and they also weren't the 40 Days Later amphetamine popping track athlete zombies either. They were somewhere in between. Not so fast that I couldn't get away from them but fast enough that I had to constantly keep moving. Luckily, I've been bringing it almost daily with my P90x workouts, so I am in shape enough that I was able to protect my brain, but now I'm spent and have a whole day of work ahead of me. I'm not mad at those zombies for trying to feast on my grey matter. They were hungry, they eat brains, and I have a brain. It's natural. However, I am a little annoyed that they chose last night to chase me around. Friday night would have been much better considering I didn't have to work on Saturday. Damn inconsiderate zombies.

I spoke with my brother about the cartoon last night and received my first legitimate criticism of the script. I didn't cut enough of the dialogue. I knew this, too, but I chose to ignore it. It was pretty difficult considering that I have to explain so much in such a short amount of time and make it funny. I tried to develop the characters too much too early. Oh well. At least the writing should get easier once everything is established. I'm working on the rest of the script now, and I've already been hacking it apart. I'm in the third episode, totally disgusted with what I've written, and ready to attack the Backspace key with vigor. Ivan's animation continues to improve impressively and so should my writing if I'm to keep up. We're knee deep in creating the next installment, and I think Episode 2 will be a big hit as it includes mysterious sticky substances, anal probing, and an unhealthy obsession with a B-list celebrity. This is high brow comedy at its finest.

I just figured out why zombies were chasing me last night. I ate a frozen pizza yesterday, and cheese messes me up, man. I'm not supposed to have cheese, but I was so lazy yesterday, didn't want to cook, and there are all these pizzas in the freezer. I took a couple Lactaid pills, and those definitely helped me in the plumbing department, however they did not ward off the zombies. They need to put a warning on the Lactaid box that reads, "Will not protect you from zombie attack."

Garry and Chee Chee

2007-02-11T18:12:00.000-05:00

This is a project my friend has been working on. Scarface meets Perfect Strangers...an excellent combination.

Garry and Chee Chee: Episode 1

Garry and Chee Chee: Episode 2

My friend is Zach Johnson who plays Chee Chee, so watch what you say bitches! Haha, I'm just joking. No, but seriously. Watch it. He'll kill you.

Save Boston from the Mooninites!

2007-02-11T14:14:00.000-05:00

...if you really care that much.

I did not make this, but I deem it gas station pizza.

Sabotage!!

2007-02-08T21:15:00.000-05:00

In a ridiculous attempt to sway media attention away from the premiere of Highly Effective Device and onto herself, Anna Nicole Smith died today. At the moment, I have a team of lawyers looking into any possible legal options I may have as I feel that valuable worldwide publicity was intentionally and egregiously stolen from the launch of the website. You may think that to be a little extreme, but I turned on CNN tonight, and I kid you not, I saw not one story on the premiere of Highly Effective Device!

You want tits? We got tits! Ivan worked for days on these tits! Let's show a little appreciation, CNN. Try to act like a reputable news organization for once and give the world what it wants: internet cartoons.

I mean, come on! Look at the detail in the shading, there! Hours upon hours upon hours of sketching, molding, and masturbation were put into that character!

Fine. We'll just have to re-launch, I suppose. But you watch yourself, Miss Anna Nicole! My lawyers are ready to pounce if you try something like this again!

And there was much rejoicing.

2007-02-08T08:23:00.000-05:00

We are officially open for business! ...well, with no way of making any actual money, but Capitalism is not what I'm about. I'm about comedy and entertainment and writing and stuff and stuff. The first episode of Highly Effective Device is now officially linked on the website. Check it out. Let me know what you think.

There's some other stuff on the site, too. You can play a game that you'll be sick of after a few tries. You can also download the swanky music we created for the background in the first scene. It's entitled Ring My Dingleberry Bells, performed by the legendary Martian Elaine, and some say it's his best track off of the universally popular album Martian Elaine's Songs 2 Get Sweaty 2.

There's also a Make Your Own Review page, where you can tear us a new one if you'd like. I noticed that Dan has already participated in that. Thanks for the support, Daniel! I also created a bio page for me and Ivan, and it's probably better written than the cartoon itself. Go figure. I like talking about me.

While driving home from Ivan's after finishing up a couple touches to the site and doing our P90x extreme workout (That's right. We bring it, nightly.), I made a couple calls to my friends in Los Angeles to make them watch the cartoon. David was busy playing Madden (he's a very busy man), Jade was MIA (probably cooking for her fiance), but Nathaniel was home and decided to watch it with me over the phone. I'm pretty nervous about how the toon will be received, but this was a perfect way to start as he was very complimentary.

The script for the second episode is already complete except for a little polishing, and the sets and a new character are being drawn. Here's hoping it doesn't take us six months to make this next one.

Have shovel, will travel.....very far away.

2007-02-06T10:10:00.000-05:00

"We've got so much shit to do and just not enough time to do it in."
-What I overheard one bundled up girl say to another bundled up girl in the elevator before they went outside to smoke a cigarette.

There is a lot to be done, but priorities come first. Since I quit smoking a while ago, I can cross that off. Next on the list, plan my escape from Indiana. Don't get me wrong. I have enjoyed my time here. It has been productive and memorable. What a blessing for me to be in Indianapolis for the Colts Super Bowl victory. Watching the game with friends and then partying at a bar filled with Colts is an experience I would have missed in Los Angeles. High five laps around the bar, the victory cigars I handed out and enjoyed, the countless beers and the one shot of Jagermeister too much, the chants of Let's Go Colts!...it's all permanently ingrained in my mind.

Now that football is over, the only thing that's keeping me here is the cartoon. The first episode is finished, and I have no idea if it's funny. We haven't had an official release, because there are a couple kinks to work out, and the webpage needs some tweaking. You could find it if you tried hard enough, though. The webpage even has a link to my blog, so I fully expect my readership to double.

But I do have to get out of here. It's stupid how cold it is. It's snowing right now. How am I going to get home for lunch today? I have to risk my life for a ham sandwich? Who am I? Mama Cass? Don't tell me I'm going to have to shovel a driveway at 7am. I can't handle that. I'm a lover, not a snow shoveler.

I'm supposed to do comedy tonight, but I am predictably underprepared. There are even supposed to be some people coming to this show, but it looks like the snow may save me. Who wants to trek through a snowstorm for open mic comedy? Hopefully no one. I would like to do some material about the commercials during the Super Bowl...though I haven't written any jokes about them. All I could think about while they played is how blatantly violent they were and for no apparent reason! I'm all for violence in entertainment, but it has to have a purpose...and loving chips isn't a good enough reason. In a Doritos ad, some guy got into a car accident, and then a girl rushed out into traffic to help him and got hit by a car! Mmmm...Doritos. I guess the joke is that they're worth dying for, but I'm not laughing. Just having people getting hurt doesn't equate humor. Creativity is supposed to be involved in these commercials! Is that too much to ask? For some decent writing?? I mean, they only cost millions of dollars to produce! Screw Doritos. I'm officially boycotting them for insulting my intelligence with their frivolously violent crap. I suppose next year they'll run a spot where some guy is eating from a bag of Doritos and then some other dude walks up to him, shoots him in the head, and takes the bag. Mmm...Doritos. Worth killing for.

And people said the best commercial involved talking lions. Come on...talking animals? Are we still doing that? The best commercial I saw (and granted, I was paying MUCH more attention to the actual game) was the Coca Cola "Grand Theft Auto" commercial. There was some violence in it, but it was resolved with perfect balance. I liked it so much that I'm enjoying a Coke right now. However, you will find no Doritos on my desk.

Super

2007-02-05T09:06:00.000-05:00

I hope you like football.

2007-02-02T09:33:00.000-05:00

Indianapolis deserves a championship. Indiana deserves a chamionship. We need a championship. I need a championship. And this Sunday, when the Colts win the Superbowl, I will have that championship.

The majority of sports fans in major cities are spoiled. New York, Boston, Los Angeles, Chicago, and all the other meccas have countless professional sports championships. Indiana has none. Well, nothing since the days of the ABA. Personally, none of the teams that I route for have won it all since the 1990 Cincinnati Reds, and then I was too young and not educated enough to truly appreciate it. The fans of teams that have won multiple championships don't understand what it's like to bond with a small market team that has the odds against them. There's something special about that relationship; the bond between fan and team is stronger becuase it's based on hardship. With the big cities...it's like a relationship between a hot girl and a good looking guy. Sure, the physical attration is strong, and the sex is probably great, but do they really care about each other? Aren't they quicker to turn on each other when things aren't going well? Those weak relationships are headed for divorce, and who suffers there? That's right. The kids. Think about the children, you weak-minded sports fans! Think about the children!

I take pride in the struggles I have faced as a sports fan, and I use them as an analogy to my life. All the difficulties I face and hurdles I have to overcome will be worth it when success I finally meet success. It will be all the more sweeter. It's appropriate that Prince is the halftime entertainment for this Superbowl, because come Sunday night, I'll be partying like it's 1999.

Enough of this who deserve what talk. It's time to break down the game. Oh, I know Xs and Os. I know Xs and Os very much.

Bears fans are grasping at anything they can hold onto to say that they have an advantage in this game. The most common argument I'm hearing is that the Colts can't stop the running game. Well, I suppose these Bears fans haven't been paying as much attention to the Colts performances this season and postseason as I have...but then again, I'm a fan and have seen every game. Here's what has happened with the Colts D. They're used to big games in the playoffs. They're addicted to them. So, the regular season games just don't have the same appeal, and it's hard to exert the energy necessary in them when you're waiting for the playoffs. And defense is 80% heart. Add that to some major injuries during the season and you get one of the worst regular season run defenses in history. But now we're in the playoffs and fairly healthy.

In the playoffs, the Colts D has been a completely different animal. Bob Sanders is back (he was being saved for the playoffs) and the defense has a new attitude. In each of the past three playoff games, the Colts were supposed to get run over. Well, instead they stuffed it. Bottled it up. Shipped it Fed Ex. The experts say they can't explain it...well the experts should talk to me, because it's all clear as day over here.

And still! Still, the Bears fans say that the Colts can't stop the run! They say that the stats show that the Chiefs, the Ravens, and the Patriots didn't run enough, that those teams gave up on the run too soon. Did they? Did they really? I hear that the Colts offense was the reason why the Chiefs hardly had the ball and couldn't run. Let's look at that.

There is no debating that the Colts stuffed Larry Johnson. The reason the Colts had the ball so much is that the Chiefs went 3-and-out almost everytime after the Colts D stuffed the run twice and got an incompletion or sack. It was the defense that allowed the Colts offense to have the ball for that long.

I hear that the Ravens had success when they ran, but they just gave up on it too much. Well, the Ravens were playing from behind, and if you watched the game you should have seen that the Colts stopped the Ravens running game when it mattered. It's not about YPC (Yards Per Carry) and total yards (though these numbers were way below what the Colts surrendered on the season). It's about getting to third and long and forcing a pass. The Colts stopped the run when they had to and put the ball in McNair's hands...who then put it into Bethea's hands.

Third, let's look a little more in depth at the AFC Championship game. Bears fans are really harping on this game saying that the Patriots were killing the Colts with the run and simply gave up on it too soon. I admit that the Patriots running game started off well. The Patriots are one of the best teams in football, and they had a couple great drives to start the game. However, a huge chunk of their run production was on a huge run by Corey Dillon (35 yards). I've heard how you can't eliminate large runs when talking about YPC, but this situation is a little different. It was 4th and 1 from midfield, and the Colts stacked the line. In these situations, if the runner breaks the first tackle then he's going to go a long way. Both teams took a risk and the Colts got burnt. You have to discount judging the Colts run D a little on this play, though.

Halfway through the second quarter, the Colts run defense woke up. Check, check, check it out.

Look at all the negative runs. This is why New England stopped running. They were moving backwards. Here, check out the third quarter.

Besides the first Faulk run for 8 yards, the other two runs are negative. Both drives go 3-and-out. In the fourth quarter, the Patriots start off with one more negative run. Since halfway through the second quarter, every Patriots running play except for one went for negative yards. This is why Belichick starting passing every down, and so would any other coach that had a tired defense and knew that he had to move the ball to win the game.

Sure, if you look at the stats through hopeful Chicagoan eyes, it might appear that the Colts were not as successful at defending the run as they were. But it's about the flow of the game and not just blanket stats. The Colts are completely capable of shutting down the Bears running game.

The Colts should win this game. They will win this game. They better f'ing fucking win this game.

Giant Pixelated Explosions

2007-02-01T08:27:00.000-05:00

My aversion to the city of Boston has been tempered by the Colts win in the AFC Championship game. Though I had at least five different coronaries watching it, the satisfaction of coming back from the largest deficit in Championship history to win was well worth the pain I suffered watching it. It wasn't the Patriots and their fans that were the real losers in this game, though. No, that would be all the atheists in the world, because now we have proof that yes, there is a God.

Overall, I have felt that most Patriot fans have been very gracious in defeat, and this is also helping to repair the damaged reputation Boston has in my mind. I've even heard that many of these same fans who chided the Colts as chokers and Indiana residents as hicks will be supporting our team in the Super Bowl. I have to say that, that makes this hick get a little choked up. Bonds are forming. Camaraderie is developing. Wounds are healing. And now a Super Bowl needs to be won. Before I get to discussing the upcoming football game, let me talk about Boston for hopefully the last time for a long while.

Boston had a bomb scare yesterday. Apparently, the city was attacked by invaders...from the moon! That's right, the Mooninites landed and deservingly gave Boston the finger. (I know, I know, wounds healing. This was the final piece of the reparation pie, though.) At night on the Cartoon Network, a segment of the network called Adult Swim plays cartoons that are adult-oriented and that I am addicted to watching. Probably the most popular cartoon played (besides Family Guy because it doesn't count for being syndicated) is Aqua Teen Hunger Force. The Mooninites are characters in this show that make appearances in occasional episodes touting how superior their moon ways are to the ways of the Earth. They often drive their point across by raising a pixelated middle finger at those they encounter and sometimes at the Earth itself from the comfort of their spaceship. Yesterday, they decided to spread their message to the millions of residents of the city of Boston.

Dozens of battery-powered, magnetic light boards were placed around the city that depict Ur, the smaller and fiestier of the Mooninites, in all his glorious fury. Apparently, the majority of Boston residents aren't like me and don't watch late night cartoons, and neither does their mayor, their police, their fire departments, nor their bomb squads who were called in the shut down the city and protect its citizens from this alien terrorist threat. Now there's a huge uproar about this, people have been arrested, Adult Swim has posted an apology, and the mayor is screaming for retribution. I understand that if you don't know what a Mooninite is, you might see one of the displays with it's little battery pack and possibly think it's a bomb, but wasn't there someone...anyone in power in Boston that had enough pop culture knowledge to recognize this character? No one that could say, "Oh, hey! That's a Mooninite! Funny!" Someone had to, right?

I guess not. Well, let's hope not, because if someone did recognize the Aqua Teen character and still thought it might be a terrorist attack then we really are out of touch. I'm not saying that I know terrorists all that well, but I think I can be brazen enough to say that they don't watch late night cartoons. Watchers of these programs are for the most part pacifists, and while they do occasionally make crafts, their creations rarely explode.

Cartoon Watcher 1: Dude, check out this bomb I made.
Cartoon Watcher 2: Dude, you made a bomb??
Cartoon Watcher 1: No, dude! I said bong!
Cartoon Watcher 2: Oh....awesome!
(bubbling noises)

Call me Hoover

2007-01-15T09:05:00.000-05:00

Playoff football has enveloped my life. I spent the last week on the ESPN Colts message board stirring up trouble with Baltimore Ravens fans. It's all very childish and unimportant, and I love it. The Ravens fans were trying to tell us that we should feel bad about stealing their team 23 years ago and that we should petition to give all of the Baltimore Colts records, colors, and team name back to the city of Baltimore. We tried to tell them that we didn't care, but that did not make them quit. They wanted to be angry. They reveled in it, so I decided to help them out by creating a thread to help give them some validity. I'm pretty proud of what I accomplished.

SIDE NOTE - I told my parents about the thread, and my dad laughed...but my mom asked why I couldn't spend that kind of energy on more important things. Mom, I did this while at work. What am I supposed to be doing with this time? Other than working, of course. I've got this job down to a science...like Physiology, one of the easy sciences. I am ready to bail.

The Colts won, and now the hated Patriots will be coming to town. This is how I like it. If we're going to win the Super Bowl, I want it to happen through beating our nemesis. I have to find a good angle for the forums. I think I'm going to be celebrating the Patriots best player. No, not Tom Brady. I'm talking about Bruschi's Steroid Chin. I will elevate Bruschi's Steroid Chin to god-like status. Patriot fans will flip if they think someone's implying that their beloved Tedy Bruschi did steroids. Personally, I think everyone in the NFL is on steroids. It's like every celebrity is on cocaine. But back to Bruschi's Steroid Chin, it's incredible. I think the Patriots could line up on defense with two safeties in the back, two defensive linemen up front, and leave Bruschi's Steroid Chin to defend the middle and still dominate the NFL. That's how good Bruschi's Steroid Chin is.

After the big win on Saturday, I hit the online poker scene. Normally, I don't like to talk about poker on here, because I think poker blogs from amateur players are mind-numbingly boring, but I figure most of you stopped reading by this point anyways, so here goes.

I recently switched back to Ultimate Bet, since the other site I was playing on had terrible tournaments, and tournaments are where I have the biggest advantage over all the idio...er...less experienced players out there. I had $30 in my account when I switched and managed to work that up to $3. Oh, I guess that would be down. Well, never fear. I'm kind of a poker god. I worked that minute sum up to $360 with some stellar play. That's where my total was at on Saturday when I entered a $33 no-limit tournament with about 360 people in it.

SIDE NOTE - $360 is not a big enough bank roll to enter a $33 tournament. But I was a little drunk, so whatever.

Things started poorly for me as my 1500 starting stack got quickly hacked to 450 thanks to a weak player chasing a draw on me and hitting. A lot of players would give up at this point and just throw all their chips in the pot on the next Ace they see. But playing short stacked is a strength of my game, perhaps the strongest point of it. For the opening hour, I picked and chose my battles, and by the first break I had my stack up to 1300. Not good, but I was still alive.

For the next couple hours, I can't remember anything except for that I had my Ipod kickin' out tunes, and I was focused and making some sweet moves. I never had a large stack, but my short stack game is excellent, remember? Suddenly, we were in the money...and then more people kept dropping while I scraped a few more chips here and there...and then even more people were knocked out and lo and behold I was at the final table! Of course, I was in tenth place out of ten...but I play a great short sta...wait, I think I mentioned this before.

I have a special final table strategy. It's called, "Let these other guys get knocked out while I make some sweet moolah." Each time someone would lose, I would move up a spot in the pay scale, and each of these jumps were worth at least $120. Dan, how's that for good business sense? So I laid low and sure enough, three guys got knocked out quickly. I made a couple plays and got out of the way. A few more got the heave ho. I made a couple plays turned on my invisibility mode. More got knocked out. Suddenly, we were heads up. I had around 120,000 chips, and my opponent had about 460,000. I like those odds.

Did I mention that playing short stacked is one of the strengths of my game? I should have if I didn't. Well, the other strong point of my game is playing heads up. I play very aggressively, switch gears a lot, and have a knack for cueing on my opponent's betting patterns. I feel that if I get heads up, and my opponent has a 3 to 1 chip lead on me, I still have a good shot at winning.

I started off fast and began to win pots. I like to win a lot of small pots and as many in a row as possible. This demoralizes my opponent and makes them panic a little. It's hard to keep your cool when you look at the hand history and the guy you're playing just won 8 hands in a row. I try to set it up so that when I catch a really big hand, my opponent will decide he's had enough of my bluffing and reraise me huge with bottom pair. This guy was good, though, and he wouldn't pay me off on my big hands. In addition to this, he rivered two straights on me and should have had all of my stack both times. It took me forever to finally catch him, but I gained the chip advantage after about 40 minutes. That's when I lost my mind.

You have to understand that it was 2:30am at this point, I had been playing this tournament for 4-and-a-half hours, and I had watched the Colts game earlier and celebrated the victory where many beers were consumed. My Ipod had long since run out of batteries, and I was running Pandora which is not my usual music accompaniment. Is that enough stupid excuses? Good, because here's a stupid play. I caught middle pair on a hand, which is a good hand heads up. My opponent came out betting the minimum, which could easily be a bluff. I raised it. He raised me back. This is where I should have let go of the hand, but something told me he was pushing me around. I thought he was getting tired of my nonsense and trying to bully me. Well, after about 15 seconds of thought, I convinced myself this was the case and made a $1200 decision to reraise him all in. ($1200 was the difference between 1st and 2nd place. This is pretty big money, huh?) Well, he insta-called me, and I knew I was boned. He flipped over top pair, and I was drawing to a little more than 5 outs.

But what cometh on the turn?? My card for trips! I sucked out for $1200!! Holy f'ing fucking f'ing mother f'ing holy fucking shit! I scored my biggest win to date. $2962.53.

Thank God for this one. I need that money for my move back to Cali. The Colts win in the playoffs on the road and I win my biggest tournament ever. Now that's a good day!

The Big Pepperoni Upstairs?

2007-01-03T10:09:00.000-05:00

Going back onstage after bombing in your last show is always a nervous experience. I went to Morty's Comedy Joint last night to do the open mic. My good friend Zach was in town from Los Angeles and told me he was going to perform, so I decided I would join him. Last time I went, I was early, signed up first, had to perform first, and predictably ate shit for seven minutes. This time I planned my arrival so that I got there along with the middle of the pack comedian-wise, I signed up seventh, and had to go first. Again! It was an outrage that they put me on the list to bite the bullet twice in a row! Planning on going over my material while the first few acts performed, I didn't even have a set list ready when I found out that I had to go up right after the host. Potential disaster was on its way.

Allow me to now pat myself on the back. (Pat, pat) I did not complain. I didn't say a word. I just quickly arranged some material, slammed a beer, and walked onstage with a good frame of mind once the host finished the tepid warm-up. My performance went great. I'm not saying that I killed, but I definitely had a solid set. I started off with a joke that I've never done onstage before, and I feel that it set the tone for my whole act by giving the audience a good feel for my personality. Here was the opener:

So it's supposed to be an attractive trait in males to have a large penis...
...but having three testicles isn't? That's kind of a double standard isn't it?

In a totally unrelated matter, I'd like it if you would all keep me in your prayers this week. On Thursday, I go in for testicular removal surgery.

I like to start high brow. The best news is that my new material worked. I did about four minutes of completely new stuff and got a great reaction. This includes the Gas Station Pizza bit that I originally wrote here in this blog. However, my final joke in that bit fell a little flat:

The next time someone says to you that something is awesome, you need to look them straight in the eye and say, "God is gas station pizza." Let's not disrespect the big pepperoni upstairs.

If you haven't read the entry on Gas Station Pizza, then this joke definitely won't make any sense to you. It's one of those jokes that if I heard another comic say, I would be howling...unfortunately for this particular joke, the crowd was not filled with a bunch of me...s. But I recovered enough to plod on. My next series of jokes was a very risky choice. In fact, I didn't realize how edgy I was being until well after I started. I did some of my Jesus material. Now, you have to understand that as a performer, you have to write what you know. I know Christianity. I was raised in a very Christian family and still have a lot of strong Christian influences in my life. However, I'm not afraid to make jokes about The Passion of the Christ. I have a unique viewpoint on this subject, and I don't feel that my jokes are anti-Christian at all. Well, the bit was received with luke-warm laughter. It was the kind of response where you could tell that the crowd thought it was funny but were afraid to laugh. That's fine with me. As I transitioned out of that section, I made a quick comment to the other comedians to avoid the Jesus material which the crowd thought was funny. Then I said that it didn't fly because the table up front which had what looked like a business party at it were all Mormons. And everyone thought that was verrry funny. Everyone loves to pile on Mormons.

I ended my set with a few goto jokes, a bit called Ass Food, and left to strong applause. It was a very successful show, especially considering I was coming off a bomb performance, did a ton of new material, and bit the bullet. My friend Zach had a good set, although his material is filled with L.A. industry stuff that won't kill an Indiana crowd. He gave me an awesome call out during his set and told me that I "had balls for doing four minutes of anti-Christian material in the middle of the Bible Belt." Now, I must repeat that I don't feel my material was "anti-Christian", however I will gladly take that as a compliment from Zach who appreciates in when anyone is successfully edgy.

It was good to see Zach again, and I am anxious to get back to Los Angeles. The world is almost ready to learn about Ass Food.

You need the exercise.

2007-01-02T10:44:00.000-05:00

It's that time of the year again. The time for life evaluations. The time for application of lessons learned. The time for resolutions. I have a few resolutions of my own, and most of them involve me making millions of dollars and banging hot chicks. But those aren't that important. They don't help others, and that's what I'm all about, making the world a better place. This is why I'm going to share with you my most crucial New Year's Resolution for 2007.

I will no longer hold doors open for people!

There has been a door holding epidemic that is killing this country, and I will be doing my part to put an end to it. Now before you go all haywire and say that I'm not chivalrous, I'm not talking about slamming doors shut in the faces of women. (Although I have to admit the schoolkid in me smiled a little as I typed that.) I'm talking about when you get to a door and there's someone following five to ten feet behind you. That's too far to hold that door open for them! Too far, I say!

I hate it when someone holds the door open for me in these situations. I don't want to talk to this person; I just want to go inside. Let alone thanking them. Hell, they practically insulted me by holding that door open for so long. I know how a door works. I'm good at opening doors. It's gotten to the point that if I'm walking a little behind someone headed for a door, I'll slow down to where I'll be too far behind them to want to hold the door open. Now they're making me late! I would rather be later by ten seconds than have to go through that awkward door holding/jogging/thanking situation.

And there's no way I'm jogging for a held door. If you decide to hold that door, then you have to deal with my current speed. And what about double doors? If the first is held open for you, do you have to hold open the second? Not anymore. Not me. I didn't sign on for this door holding exchange. You got yourself into this.

Until everyone realizes that door holding has gotten way out of control, I will no longer be holding them myself. I may look like a jerk, but I've been dealing with the myopic viewpoints of others my whole life. Eventually, they will realize that I am sacrificing my reputation for the good of the world. Join me in changing the world for the better! Down with door holding!

Dinner before a big game

2006-12-26T08:38:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas and back to work. Technically, I'm a temp here, so that means that compared to the full timers I get less pay, no benefits, no paid sick days, and I have to work normal holidays. I'm filled with anger and hate right now...but not because of being at work. I just made the mistake of going on a Colts message board after a loss and it's filled with Patriot fans being jackasses. I hate Bostonians. As far as I can tell, the area is filled with nothing but drunken, arrogant assholes who only derive pleasure by belittling as many people as they can. Explain to me why Patriot fans should hate the Colts. It makes no sense. They've won. Multiple times. The city of Boston has won tons of sports championships over the years while Indianapolis has never won any. So why would they feel such anger towards the Colts and Colts fans? Because they're a city full of jackasses. That's why. Oh, but Boston is such a wonderful city, people say. I've been there. I saw a bunch of one way streets, Dunkin' Donuts, Ivy League snobs, and drunks who are envious of the Ivy League snobs. Maybe I've gotten the wrong opinion of this city, but until someone manages to prove otherwise, this is the way it is.

F'ing fucking Colts, though. What an embarrassing defense. I wish I could stop caring so much. I actually got to go to the Monday Night game against the Bengals. I was going to go watch the game at a friend's house and that sounded like a lot of fun, but then my brother-in-law called at the last minute and said he had an extra ticket for me at will call. So I hopped in my car and headed downtown. When I arrived at the Dome a crowd of people were headed to the gates, but I still had about 45 minutes until gametime, and I wanted to get a couple affordable drinks in me before kickoff. I fought against the flow of the crowd looking for a bar. Once I got past the major crush, I saw something that was very special in my eyes. In fact, I've told people about what I saw since this moment occured, and I get the feeling that they don't believe me. But they should. People should understand that I have been blessed with the gift of witnessing amazing events, and that my purpose here on Earth is to share these moments with all of you. Now I'm not sure where this moment ranks compared to the time Erik Estrada asked me to get him a bucket of lemon slushie that had falled onto the pavement or the time I personally made the entire Hollywood Bowl sit down or the time when I saw Erik Estrada knock over a table of video games at Toys R Us...but it's up there. This night before the start of the Colts/Bengals game while the crowd was walking to the Dome, I passed under a bridge in downtown Indianapolis and saw...a man...a little chubby but full of energy...definitely drunk...skipping...wearing a #88 Marvin Harrison jersey...shouting, "Let's go fucking Colts! Mother fucking Colts!!" And as he skipped past me I realized that it was Jared from Subway. He seemed like a pretty fun guy. Honestly though, is anyone's life going better for them than Jared Fogle? That used-to-be-obese-but-is-now-just-a-little-fat fuck has the life. He makes millions of dollars doing commercials while holding up a sail-sized pair of pants, giving talks while holding up his sail-sized pair of pants to people who will never lose as much weight as he did no matter how much or little Subway they cram down their throats, and he gets free sandwiches for life! Free f'ing fucking sandwiches! I'd be skipping, too.

I found a bar, finally got the skank behind the bar to give me a drink after waving at her for fifteen minutes, and headed back to the Dome. My seat was way in the corner of the stadium. Waaaaay up there. You could only go one row higher than my seat. The good news was that the giant pillar in front of me only blocked the left endzone, but if I leaned to my right I could see, yet I risked propelling myself into the fans below. My brother-in-law was already in the seats with my nephews also there in football pads eating nachos. I had completely forgotten. They were on a junior all-star team that was playing the NFL mascots at halftime. That's how we got the tickets. And that's why there was a pillar in the way. I was sitting next to my nephew Race and one of his teammates was sitting next to him. They were buzzing with excitement. Perhaps they were a little too excited.

Some dude recording artist that I have never heard of was doing an average job with the national anthem, when I heard someone's drink spilling near me. I instinctively stepped away from the noise without looking. I noticed that this must be one helluva huge drink that this person was having major trouble corralling because it just kept gushing and gushing. I looked over to my left and there was Race's friend doubled over puking...everywhere! All over himself, all over his dad, all over the ground, all over our row, all over the row in front of us...it was a never ending geyser of vomit! Finally, the torrent subsided and his dad walked him downstairs, but that left us up in the stands surrounded by puke. The smell was less than pleasant. The stadium staff at the RCA Dome has learned something. They know that if some kid pukes in the nose bleeds, they don't have to do anything about it. They don't need to mop it up or water it down. Our seats have already been paid for, and they were the cheap seats at that. So, we did what we could with a couple cups of water and a roll of paper towels. I wiped enough vomit off one section of the row to sit down and fought my gag reflex for the entire game. All in all, I had a great time. Apparently, as long as I'm at a Colts game I'm happy, even if this means sitting in a pool of vomit in the nose bleeds behind a giant pillar.

I don't remember eating a fist.

2006-12-15T15:16:00.000-05:00

Everytime a company provides lunch for its employees, it's cheese-based. I'm not just talking about my current company. This is true for every corporation in the nation. Today, we had a brain numbing meeting followed by intestine twisting lasagne. I prepared myself, though. I knew that management was providing lunch today, so I brought my Lactaid. But I only brought one pill, and it is currently losing the battle against at least three different congealing cheeses.

The fist I'm trying to digest is the only thing keeping me awake right now. I've held back on the caffeine today and am paying the price. By holding back, I mean that I've only consumed a morning Coke, one cup of coffee, a cup of Barq's (the one with bite) with lunch, and a 20oz Mountain Dew. That's holding back. I've got a serious problem.

The cartoon is really coming along. The second scene is well on it's way, and it's much funnier than I was afraid it might be. The webpage is also up, but it has no content yet as it's still obviously being constructed. Ivan probably doesn't want me posting a link to it yet. Just let it be known that the cartoon is called The Highly Effective Device. You don't have to be Sherlock Joelmes to figure out what the website might be called.

We recorded another voice last night, and here is the running voice tally:

Angie: April
Ivan: Guillermo
Joel: Dean, Carmine, Tentacle Alien, Plabberplabt, Martian Elaine, Jessica

It's time for Ivan to starting pulling his weight in the character voice department. I'm slated to voice the upcoming Flabular character as well, but that one just may have to become Ivan's baby.

I have absolutely no time to work on Untapped lately. That's fine. It will still be there when I have the time. My brother looked at them on YouTube and said that I should include sound. I don't know...that would mean a lot more work...and more voices...and possibly background noise...and I can't even get my audio recording program to work until I have internet access on my personal computer again! Perhaps he's just too critical of my work. I think they're pretty funny as they are. I don't think that the YouTube video is the best format for them, but I don't know how else to post them. Any ideas how I could post them in html on my blog?

I'm going to the Purdue/Butler game tomorrow in Indy with my dad and my brother. That should be way too much fun. I tell you, there is nothing I am more passionate about than Purdue basketball. I'm totally irrational about it.

I'll tell you what else is being irrational...this damn lasagne!

God is gas station pizza.

2006-12-12T13:09:00.000-05:00

Listening to the radio, I heard a commercial for a local chain of gas stations. They explained the features of their snack shop which included a pizza value meal offer. After they mentioned the affordable price for this meal, a sound clip played of a female saying, "This pizza is awesome!" She sounded serious. Awesome? This is pizza from a gas station we're talking about, right? Why would she deem this pizza as awesome? Has she never had pizza before? Maybe the only pizza she's ever had prior to coming to this gas station was frat house floor pizza. Or maybe she only recently gained the ability to taste, and everything is awesome to her.

Regardless of the motivation behind her comment, I feel that I have no choice but to amend my definition of the word "awesome". From now on, whenever I refer to something as "awesome", I don't just mean it's good. I mean it's gas station pizza good!

"What did you do to your face?" - my sister

2006-12-11T08:48:00.000-05:00

"What did you do to yours?" - my response

I live in a world of perpetual change. The only things I can commit to are my sports affiliations (Purdue, Colts, Pacers, and Reds). Yesterday I carved my Christmas beard into a Christmas moustache. A Christmas Fu Man Chu, if you will. My ever rotating hairstyles and facial hair creations are a distinct indicator of my identity crisis. Refering to my life I've often heard from my mother, "You need to pick one thing and stick to it." Easier said than done. I would gladly do this if I could, but you don't choose your personality.

Perhaps it was all the acting I did while growing up. Constantly becoming different characters taught me that I could be whomever I wanted for a short while and then change into someone else. Perhaps it's because I was born in the Year of the Snake on the Chinese horoscope. Perhaps it's because I'm also a Scorpio in that other horoscope. Perhaps, as my parents lament, I wasn't raised with enough discipline. Perhaps, as I lament, I was too sheltered in my childhood. Well, whatever the reason, this is who I am, and I have to deal with it.

I'm going to finish that law school application today and work on getting that one last letter of recommendation. See? I've changed my mind again! Not that I'm excited about law school...I just feel that I need some skills other than these nunchuk skills.

Speaking of Napoleon Dynamite, I know that this is a movie that a subset of people don't like. The most common complaint I have heard about it is that there is no plot. That's just incredibly untrue. The movie's brilliant because the plot and motivations are subtle. The characters are so distinct and colorful that they overshadow the plot on some levels. LaFawnduh is what I like to refer to as the "Yoda" character. She brings wisdom to the story and enables Kip and Napoleon to overcome their insecurities and succeed. Uncle Rico is Napoleon's warning to take chances in life when they avail themselves. Before the climax where he dances in front of the school, Napoleon watches Rico throwing footballs in front of his video recorder becoming frustrated when he hits the camera with one of this throws. Napoleon realizes that he could also end up living in the past if he doesn't seize whatever opportunities that may arise, and he uses this info to save his friend and win the girl. I could write a paper on this film. What I appreciate the most about this movie is that it has lessons that I can apply to my life.

Friday night, Ivan convinced me to go see a comedy show at Morty's. I don't like paying to see comedy since I've witnessed hundreds of them already, but going out to a smoke-filled room sounded like it would be a healthy experience...for my mood. When I got there, Ivan and his friends already had a table. Front row. Middle. And what seat did they leave me? The very first one. Assholes. This is not where you place a comedian. I did my best to enjoy the show and not dissect all the jokes, and I only became part of the show once. After five beers, I needed to pee so bad that I started to fear for the integrity of the walls of my bladder, and the only way I was going to enjoy the rest of the show was if I did something about this, but of course I had to cross over the front of the stage to make it to the restroom which involved me actually "hopping" over the corner. My hopping was sufficiently critiqued by the comedian, Mark Ryan, when I came back, and I took it like a man. I'm just glad that he didn't ask me what I did for a living. I wouldn't know what to tell him. Overall, it was a pretty good time, but I am never sitting front row Joe for a comedy show again.

I spent all day Saturday working on the cartoon. Ivan said he wanted to finish the second scene, and I told him he was smoking. Of course, we didn't finish it, but I did manage to lip sync most of the second scene, my newly discovered talent. The characters really looked like they were saying their lines! This is a tedious process though an essential one. Ivan did the lip syncing on the first scene...so I'll have to go back and redo that. We originally we just going having the mouths bounce around when the characters speak, but after watching one actually talk I gotta have more. More! More I say! Give it!

Yesterday I drew a guitar in Flash for one of my comic strips while watching the Colts game. I was stuck between a rock of frustration and a harder place of frustration for those few hours. The Colts were inept and embarrassing, and my animation skills were much the same. Finally after the Colts were torn to shreds, and I finally created something that a five-year-old would look at and guess "guitar" in the first three attempts, I turned on Madden and trounced the Jaguars 91-0. I don't understand what was going on in that Colts game. I had no trouble stopping the run.

Most of my friends are cartoon characters.

2006-12-08T09:17:00.000-05:00

Work is busy lately, and so is that cartoon project. I don't seem to have any time to myself anymore, let alone to work on Untapped. I've pretty much decided to go back to Los Angeles and succeed or starve, so I need to finish the first episode of that cartoon as fast as possible. We've recorded The Highly Effective Theme Song (which doesn't even make an appearance until the second episode), and I'm very happy with it. It's possibly the best song I've ever written, musically speaking. It builds appropriately, tells a story, and pays off with a catchy chorus. It might even be funny...I'm not sure. I've heard it too many times to tell.

Besides the song, we are working in the second scene of the cartoon and just had to do a major backtrack. I was lipsynching one of the characters and realized that I couldn't turn his head to the right. I asked Ivan, my partner and lead animator, about this, and he said he already knew about the problem. The character was created incorrectly, but he was planning to fix it in later scenes. I asked him how we were going to have our character have an entire conversation with a girl to his left when he can only face the right. He told me that his eyes can move and that's it. That just wasn't going to be good enough. The character couldn't just look through the side of his head at people. He'd seem creepier than he's supposed to. We had to redraw the character...and by "we" I mean "he", because I don't know what I'm doing. All I know is taht characters should be able to look to their right and their left. It's kind of essential.

While working last night, Ivan's new wife poked her head in the room to say hi. She then looked at me and said, "Joel, you haven't accepted me as your friend, yet." Whoa! What an intense and forward thing to say! My brain started flying trying to figure out how to handle this situation. I mean, Ivan and I were friends before he met her, and then I moved to California while they started their relationship. Now I'm back, and Ivan and I spend a lot of time working on this project while she goes to nursing school. It's true that we don't really hang out together, but it's not like she gives the impression that she wants to, and she definitely doesn't show any interest in our cartoon. Maybe I do seem stand-offish, though. I suppose that I could try to be more friendly when she's around or something.

"What do you mean?" I replied with the utmost delicacy.

"On Myspace," she said. "I sent you a friend request."

High Energy Playlist - Untapped 006

2006-11-30T12:41:00.000-05:00

Vagina Is the New Nipple

2006-11-29T09:45:00.000-05:00

If you haven't heard by now, Britney Spears is sharing her vagina with the world. She's been going out with Paris Hilton and decided to go all the way with this publicity stunt and flashed the Paparazzi. Paris and Britney are also conveniently reported to be hosting the Billboard Music Awards together, which explains why they're pretending to be friends and going clubbing. But did Britney need to go commando? Why not just go Lohan and show a nipple? Once again, Sherlock Joelmes is on the case. Cue intro music.

Something is coming. Something big. I am Jeff Goldblum and Britney's vagina is the ripples in the Mountain Dew on my desk. Britney's publicists are freaking geniuses, and I'm all over their strategy. They are trying to soften an upcoming blow...job. Have you heard the rumors of a possible Britney/K-Fed sex tape? Last we heard, there is no tape. But I say that there is, the original rumors must be true, and soon it will be all over the internet. A sex tape of Britney would create massive shock and awe throughout the world. It could possibly even be a career killer for her...unless a bridge is created between the Britney we know and the Britney we are about to know. There's cleavage and then there's hardcore sex. In between there is...drumroll...exposed vagina. And who better to expose your vagina with than the one person who has had a sex tape released and remains an A-list celebrity?

Britney's sex tape will be released soon. So says Sherlock Joelmes.

Fine! I'll give you a link to see the pics! Stop asking! Just don't click this at work.
Drunken Stepfather

Two Scoops

2006-11-28T13:14:00.000-05:00

My desk in my cube is made up of two separate desks connected together. In between these desks is a long crack, and today I noticed my crack is a little dirty. I took a post-it note, folded it in half, and used it to scoop out all the unwanted stuff in there. You wouldn't believe all the shit I scooped out of my crack! There was a ton of dirt, lint, and a bunch of crumbs in there. I even found a staple in my crack! You think I'd have noticed that before. I pushed two piles of the stuff into the trash before I was done. Once my crack was clean, I was certain to advise all of my co-workers to have their cracks cleaned as well. It feels good to have a clean crack.

Helpful Instructions - Untapped 005

2006-11-27T12:41:00.000-05:00

Nachos and Caviar

2006-11-27T10:14:00.000-05:00

I finally got to cash in one of my birthday presents last night when my brother and I went to the Colts game and watched them demolish the Eagles. Jade's parents have season tickets, but they don't get to go to many games now that they live in the OC with Mischa Barton and company. They were generous to give me their two tickets to the game last night, and the seats were decent. However, this guy kept standing up in front of me, but I didn't dare ask him to sit down...because he was an offensive lineman. That's how good the seats were, people! They were grab some Gatorade good. They were play with the oxygen tank good. They were get interviewed by Andrea Kramer good. Dungy let me carry the challenge flag. These were some very good seats. Did you know millionaires eat nachos? They do, and they did all around us.

Comic coming today. I've been lazy and haven't been working on new ones, but I do have two already finished and ready to post. I was going to put one up last week, but due to tryptophan induced internet apathy and a sudden addiction to Madden and poker, I neglected.

Thinking back on my disappointing showing at the open mic night, I realize now that I should have bailed on my material and talked to the crowd. I'm such a chicken when it comes to crowd work. It's the dreaded unknown. oooOOOOooo! However, this is a skill that needs sharpening, and I blew the perfect opportunity. I was too stubborn on attempting my new material, but that was an obvious lost cause when my proven opener was met with painful silence. Next time that happens, I'm going straight to the crowd. So what if I don't make them laugh by talking to them. It's not like they're going to laugh at the planned material. Lesson learned. Moving on.

Stick a fork where?

2006-11-22T08:46:00.000-05:00

Hiroshima. Nagasaki. And now Carmel. Perhaps you felt the tremors last night, yourself. That was me bombing at Open Mic Night at Morty's Comedy Joint, an explosion of silence that shall be remembered for decades to come.

I had to bite the bullet last night in front of a crowd that the greatest comedian would deem unfavorable at best. By biting the bullet, I mean that I went up first. The audience was small, and no one sat in the front seats. There was a moat of empty tables and chairs between the stage and the...er...crowd. The audience consisted of comedians, the family of a 14-yr-old comic, and a group of some other people that I should be careful about describing in the wake of the recent Michael Richards incident. Let's just say that they did not relate to my material or appreciate my point of view. They didn't heckle me, though. At one point, I was talking about tattoos on girls and I thought I heard one of them agreeing with me. I turned to him for support and realized he was just talking on his cell phone. This was one show where I wish I was heckled. At least then I could have gotten the audience more involved.

Dan asked what I thought about what happened at the Laugh Factory a couple nights ago, Kramer vs The Evolution of Society. I don't think he stepped over the line with those comments. Oh, no. Instead he backed up thirty feet, got a running start, and lunged headfirst over the line. I liked George Lopez's comments about the situation the best when he said that Michael Richards is not a stand-up comic. He's an actor who's show was canceled and now he's essentially been thrown onto the stand-up stage.

It's a different world on that stage. It can be very lonely up there when the crowd turns on you, and when you get heckled it's very easy to take it personally. Here's what I think happened. Michael Richards was very successful once, and now he's not on television and instead is doing stand-up which is not his regular medium. He was not getting the response he desired and additionally, a group of people were being disrespectful during his act by talking, which can be extremely distracting and unnerving. His pride mixed with his inexperience and quickly turned to anger, and when you want to hurt someone verbally you often say whatever you think will upset them the most. He's not an active racist. He just felt like he was being attacked and lost his mind. That's probably why it happened, but it doesn't excuse it. When you get heckled, you have to keep your cool and remember that you have one huge advantage over them. You have a microphone. They don't. Use the power to be heard over them to convey your wit in handling the situation. The audience wants to be on your side. In my experience, I've found that bare-faced insults (racist or otherwise) directed towards hecklers only make you look like a jerk.

Kramer's probably going to have a tough time getting TV work after this. However, I think Carlos Mencia should offer him a gig on his show. On that show, racism is funny! ...apparently.

I thought it was interesting how Jamie Masada, owner of the Laugh Factory, said that Michael Richards won't be allowed to perform at the club anymore...although he did allow him to do a show there the very next night. Apparently, things changed once the media storm hit.

I'll tell you who enjoyed Richards' act the most. That would be Paul Rodriguez. He got a ton of face time because of this, even more than when his son skateboards in the X Games. His life sounds like a sitcom premise, a stand-up past his prime who has a son that's a successful extreme sports star and his pride for him battling the envy of his fame. I should pitch it with him.

It is football season, afterall.

2006-11-21T10:19:00.000-05:00

Enough to kill a large housecat. That's how much caffeine I've had today, and I feel great! In fact, I've felt extra good the past few days. I'm going to do the open mic show again tonight, and hopefully I can write/find some squeaky clean material to help expand my act. Someone give me a topic, and I'll try to write a joke on it to perform tonight. Just put it in the comments.

I'm moving back to Los Angeles. It is going to happen. I belong there, and I should be using my creativity for income. First, I need to finish the first episode of the cartoon, but soon after that, I'm gone. Meanwhile, I'll continue repossessing cars, writing comedy, creating these highly enjoyable animated comic strips, and animating that soon to be highly enjoyable cartoon. My estimated departure for the West Coast is sometime in Spring.

About the Untapped comics, I am happy to announce that I have broken the 100 views plateau in YouTube for the first two strips. Of course, I did flood my Myspace friends with them in their comments section, and the first strip has the keyword "sex" attached to it... But 100 views is still 100 views. ...and only a few of those are me, I swear! I've been forcing myself not to view them just for this reason. If anyone feels motivated to help me out, I'd appreciate a few ratings on these on the YouTube site.

I'm continuing with the football series for now. I have at least three more coming for this particular topic. The most incredible thing about creating these strips with animation, is that I now have the power of timing! Before, I had to blindly hope that my readers would read each strip with the appropriate timing applied, which takes a lot of faith. Now, I can add pauses and blinks and other little tricks I am discovering to help direct the joke! The freedom! I'll post the next one sometime tomorrow.

Motivation for Injury - Untapped 004

2006-11-19T16:29:00.000-05:00

I wish I was content...

2006-11-16T14:43:00.000-05:00

You may have read by now that Neil Patrick Harris is a "content gay man". I cannot see how this is news. I've known Doogie was gay for years now, ever since he was in Rent and went on the Tonight Show wearing nail polish. Dreadful shade, too. Absolutely dreadful.

Ever since I was a youngster, people have said that I remind them of Doogie Howser. It's because I share a resemblence to Neil Patrick Harris. That and I was a 14-yr-old doctor. Well, I liked to play doctor. Actually, kids should stop playing doctor before they turn 14. I just had a great idea for a new TV show, a 14-yr-old doctor father. Doogie Howser MD PTA.

I like to think that I would make a good father. Someday, perhaps we'll find out. You know, when I finally decide to settle down and steal a kid.

Be a Sport - Untapped 003

2006-11-15T13:03:00.000-05:00

I want to car-ar-toon all ni-i-ight! And repo every day!

2006-11-13T10:49:00.000-05:00

Not wasting time is hard work, and soon it will be rewarding. Or at least, that's what I'm hoping. All of this cartooning is open-ended, and that's a little worrisome. I like instant results and struggle with patience when it comes to my work. But, I realize this and am dealing with it. Meanwhile, I have a bunch of comics ready to be animated and a couple already done that I haven't posted yet. I'll try to ration them out, since I can only dedicate a few hours a week to them. I don't want to run out of ammo too quickly. This 40-hour regular job is for the birds, birds that like to sit in a cubicle all day and repossess cars. I'm considering laying newspaper on the ground in my box and going all the way with this lame analogy.

My brother wants to bring his minister to come see my comedy act. Please take a second to scroll down and see my last set list. I need to write some new material STAT!

I'm not feeling the law school these days. I was watching the Colts game with a guy that's currently in law school, and all he talked about was law and politics. Do any of you ever hear me talking about law or politics? Didn't think so.

Still no applications received for woman of my dreams. I may have to compromise on the good speller requirement. It's not easy to meet girls when you work in a cube all day and cartoon all night.

Say It. Don't... -- Untapped 002

2006-11-12T21:07:00.000-05:00

Untapped Animated!

2006-11-09T23:17:00.000-05:00

Here she be, my first animated Untapped strip. Enjoy!

Oh, and there's not supposed to be sound. Stop messing with your speakers.

Could someone help me get this mic open?

2006-11-08T09:34:00.000-05:00

I performed my first stand-up routine since moving back to Indiana last night at a club called Morty's Comedy Joint here in Carmel. It was Open Mic Night and was packed with hopefuls. I met the owner, Eric Shorts, who looked rather familiar. In fact, he said he thought he recognized me. That's definitely possible considering I'm kind of a big deal. Well, he told me that he wasn't going to be able to squeeze me into the show since I was new and there were a lot of other comics there. I told him I would do two minutes, even one minute just to get up on stage and get my feet wet. He thought about it and decided to give me three minutes near the end of the show.

And what a show it was. Honestly, I can't say that the amateur comedians of Indianapolis are any worse than the amateurs of Los Angeles. They are all equally awful. But they're learning, and you have to start somewhere. Personally, I would start by learning the term "punchline" and the importance of its inclusion in a joke. Also, it's good to learn that when dealing with a small audience, do not begin your act by threatening them with potential bodily harm from a chainsaw. And most importantly, LOUDER DOES NOT MEAN FUNNIER!!

Since, I was going up late and only had three minutes (which thankfully got extended to five somehow) I knew I couldn't mess around with any kind of story jokes or soft material. I had to get the audience's attention fast and keep my pace rapid. My set went very well. Here was my successful set list of material:

Cat Stoned
Drunk Plant
Albino
Leather Towels
Ass Food
Nobra Badtits
That's the Shits
Girl Tattoos

That's a ton of material to get through in three (five) minutes. I was on rapid-fire. My friend, Ivan, was kind enough to come watch, and he hadn't seen me perform comedy in about six years. He said he was very impressed and that I had really matured as a comedian. Go back and read my set list again. That, my friends, is called irony. Also, an important term to learn when considering a career in comedy.

After the show, I thanked Eric for the opportunity to perform. He told me that he liked my stuff and to call him when I wanted to perform again. I will definitely be calling him. It felt good to be onstage again.

My team of experts are still working diligently on the YouTube situation. Very soon we will be up and running.

F'ing F You, Buddy!

2006-11-06T19:08:00.000-05:00

Watermarks, Foreheads, and Salmon

2006-11-06T10:25:00.000-05:00

I was hoping that my post today would include my first YouTube-ified animated comic strip, but unfortunately the computer gods were not with me over the weekend. Soon, my friends. Very soon I will be able to convert .swf files to .avi files without a giant watermark/rubber stamp in the middle of them. That was the problem, you know. I refuse to make my worldwide debut with a horrible red splotch in the middle of my hard work that even Gorbachev would attest to being rather distracting. Right now, I have a team of experts working to correct this problem, and hopefully we will be up and running shortly.

Meanwhile, I'm working on my law school applications. I don't want to be a lawyer. I don't want to go to law school. Why am I doing this? Because I have to do something.

My hairline's recession sped up a little the past few months. I think this may be a seasonal occurence for this time of year. Luckily, I have not yet suffered the misfortune of a bald spot, though I have had many dreams in which I have lost all of my hair that were so convincing I was actually surprised to still have my mop up top when I awoke. I'm determined to stay positive about the gradual recession of my hairline. I'm not losing hair. I'm gaining forehead. And who doesn't like head?

The applications for the woman of my dreams aren't exactly pouring in, although someone named Tim thinks I'm funny. His spelling is immaculate, but he doesn't qualify for the first requirement of being undeniably female. That's okay, though. I'm not losing hope. However, I think my previous paragraph may be hurting my potential desirability. Let the countdown for my application to Match.com begin!

Delighted. That is how I feel about the Colts victory over the hated Patriots last night. Simply delighted. The best part is that everyone was picking the Pats to win. Everyone...except me! I need to start sports betting. I could be a Thousandaire by now. Once you're a Thousandaire, it doesn't matter how far your hair recedes. Undeniable females would instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano.

First, I need a list

2006-11-02T13:18:00.000-05:00

I have officially entered the last year of my twenties, and I have a lot to still accomplish before I die. I had better hurry.

I'm going to post one of my animated strips on YouTube this weekend with a title page pointing to this fabulous blog. Who knows what might happen? Possibly nothing. Regardless, I will be able to scratch this off my list.

I am also accepting applications for the woman of my dreams. Requirements include that the woman is undeniably female and a good speller. Soon, this will be scratched off my list.

Now, I am scratching myself. I can scratch that off my list.

Now, I am sniffing my fingers. I can scratch that off my list.

OOOOcreativity cycleOOOO

2006-11-01T10:34:00.000-05:00

It's a slow work day. There is not much to do, except for try to look as busy as possible to avoid an undeserved reprimand. I've been at work for two-and-a-half hours and have already read every news story, sports story, blog, and email I dare to view. We aren't really allowed to be on any website that's not a mapping site, but I like to live as an outlaw.

I have also managed to write two new comic strips so far this morning. My mind goes through an incredible battle each strip. First I think that I will never be able to come up with another strip again. It's a terrible feeling of low self-worth and feebility. Then I suddenly come up with a situation. It appears out of blue. Today, for example, I remembered about how and why I learned to play the guitar. That's a perfect situation for a strip. Then I come up with a joke set up and punch that I think is funny enough to make a strip out of, and I squeeze it into 3 or 4 frames. Before I know it, I've written a new strip! I feel great! I bask in the glow of my accomplishment for a few minutes...and then I realize that I'll never be able to come up with another one ever again.

Who Framed Kyle Sumnyr?

2006-10-31T16:08:00.000-05:00

I'm back in Indiana, and boy am I motivated. The goal is to get back to Los Angeles, and the means may be cartoons. Sounds mature, huh? Well, I like cartoons. That's just the way it is. So there. (sticks tongue out)

Not that I can draw. I can't. It's well documented. So I have a partner for my project. We've been putting some serious time into a Flash cartoon that we hope to have on the web sometime by Spring, 2010. It's a long process. First, we had to learn Flash, which we're still learning. Now we're actually in the animating process which is a pretty slow-moving job as well. Plus, we're both working 40-hour weeks on our real jobs, so as my mom would say, "T'aint easy, Greasy!" But boy am I excited about what we have so far. If I showed you a snippet, you'd probably poop a little. But, I'm not showing you nuttin'! So stop askin'!

The first episode is too long to publish right away. People that watch web videos have short attention spans, so I've broken the script into three parts which we'll release as installments. Each installment has about three scenes and should be around 10 minutes long. My partner is hoping that our process will become more streamlined as time goes on, so that we can update more often. I'm hoping I'll win the lottery, so I can quit my job and focus on my writing full time. I also wish a was a balla. I wish I had a girl who looked good. I would call her.

Let me tell you a little bit about the cartoon. It's sci-fi comedy. You remember the Jean Claude Van Damme movie, Bloodsport? It's like that only with aliens. And it's called The Highly Effective Device. I tell you no more!!

When I'm not working at my job, working on the cartoon, or applying to law school, I've been animating my comic strip in Flash with hilarious results. I've finished two of them so far, and I hope to get a lot more done. I haven't figured out what to do with them once I've stocked up, but I'm sure that I could make a million dollars with them somehow. I'm open to suggestions. Anyone go to business school?

I Must Become Dumber for the Good of the World!

2006-10-27T10:15:00.000-04:00

I just had the most foul-tasting cup of coffee I can remember drinking. But it has instilled a fervor within me, a fervor for appeasing our clients.

I work for a company that facilitates communication between lenders and repossession agents. It's not the worst job I've ever had, however I am starting to get a little disheartened by the fact that my employers want me to be a robot. My brain is active and adept at solving mysteries. When I am in mystery-solving mode, I put on my double-billed cap and become Sherlock Joelmes. Sherlock Joelmes has solved many complex conundrums in his time and his works have most likely saved the lives of hundreds of innocents. However, now the Man has decided that Sherlock Joelmes needs to be muzzled.

We had a meeting a couple days ago about the clients always being right. This meeting was about me--I mean, Sherlock Joelmes, though he was never specifically mentioned. Apparently, Sherlock was wrong for telling a client that he might be mistaken about an apartment number he gave. The incomparable Sherlock Joelmes astutely noticed that the given number was most likely not for an apartment but instead for a license plate. Not just any license plate number mind you, but specifically a truck in California. Sherlock Joelmes knows his license plates. The car this lender was looking for was an Impala, so the plate wasn't even for the car he wanted. But since this meeting was held, Sherlock Joelmes now knows that the client is always right and he should accept whatever they tell him…even when they tell him that an apartment number is 5M46411.

Sherlock Joelmes has now been replaced with the Joeltron 2800.

The Joeltron 2800 is now drinking a Vault soda to get that bitter coffee taste out of his circuits. He is a car repossessing machine! Well, a machine anyways.

Caffeine. A cure for retardation.

2006-10-26T14:13:00.000-04:00

I have just returned from my first 10 minute break of the day that I like to take at 10:00. I used it to go to my car and retrieve a dollar in quarters which I then used to purchase a Mountain Dew. I'm tired today and need some chemical assistance. There's a wide variety of soda options in the break room, and to be honest I prefer this new Coke product called Vault. It's similar to the Dew, but it's less sweet yet has more bite. Plus it claims to be an energy drink/soda hybrid, and I have a serious addiction to energy drinks. However, today (and the past two days) I have ignored the available Vault soda and gone with Mountain Dew.

Why would I Do the Dew when the Vault is...open? Because I'm a sucker for games. I am a marketer's dream. Mountain Dew currently has a "Collect Caps for Caps!" promotion running where under each cap is either a coupon for purchases at NFLshop (pointless, because I'll never buy anything there), a free 20 oz Mountain Dew (pointless, because there are no 7/11's in Indiana), or an NFL team name (gold, Jerry!). If you match 3 caps with the same NFL team name you win a NFL team cap of your choice! Do I want an NFL team cap? Not really. But as with most games, it's not about the prize. I just love to play! So far, I have one Bears, Texans, Giants, and Chiefs each. God help me if I ever get two of one team. I may start drinking five Mountain Dews a day! Obviously, if anyone is collecting these caps, let me know. Perhaps we can work out a trade.

I love caffeine. It's a known fact. Today, I NEEDED it. I don't think I got much sleep last night. I woke up in the middle of the night and tossed around in that almost dreaming but not quite sleeping state for hours. By the time my alarm went off, I only registered three hours of legitimate sleep. I arrived at work a Zombie, and my morning can of Coke wasn't making a dent in my fogginess. You know you're half asleep when you sprout morning wood in your cubicle. I felt like a kid again! Like a very tired, horny kid.

A little while after the...er...excitement wore off, I had a co-worker ask me if I had change for a Five. I drearily looked in my wallet and counted four Ones. So I told him that I could give him four and he could owe me one. He laughed and said, "No thanks." I wondered why he wouldn't. Was he worried that he would forget to pay me back? I was officially retarded.

Bob & Tom & Claude & and me in my car

2006-10-21T00:45:00.000-04:00

A weird thing happened on the way to work today. I was listening to Bob & Tom on Q95. Listening to this program has been one of the few bright spots in my life since moving back to Indiana. It's not that I find the radio show to be all that hilarious. It's just that it's been so long since I've gotten to hear it, and it holds a sort of renewed novelty mixed with nostalgia that I enjoy. I'm sure I'll be sick of it in a week.

Each morning they have special guest comedians that they pretend to talk to. By "pretending to talk to them" I mean that they do a sort of fake interview that allows the comedian to mix his act into the conversation. A brilliant scheme by most standards. Radio magic, if you will. This morning, the guest comedian was Claude Stuart. This is particularly interesting to me, because I know Claude. I'm friends with Claude. I've performed with Claude. We did the boston Comedy Festival together. And now he's on the Bob & Tom show. They went into the fake interview schtick and Claude got to give his first joke. "I was at this bar and this girl said to me, 'Just because you bought me a drink that doesn't mean I'm going to do you.' And I replied, 'Just because I want to do you...'" And I said the punch line with him, "...doesn't mean I think you're attractive."

Kudos to Claude. He's out there hustling. Getting it done. I'm envious. I always wanted to be on the Bob & Tom Show. Maybe someday. Maybe my internet cartoon will hit it big.

Back Home Again?

2006-05-20T16:30:00.000-04:00

Greetings, faithful readers! I apologize for my absence these recent weeks. I've been dealing with some personal issues, most of which have yet to be solved. As many of you know, I lost my cushy job at Style due to budget cuts. Unlike the Jewish children that clean the insides of bullet casings with their tiny fingers at Schlindler's weapons manufacturing plant, I am not an essential worker. I showed my boss my own spindly fingers, but alas, it was to no avail. Meanwhile, I have been putting countless resumes into bottles and tossing them into the ocean. After about 50-60 attempts, I have garnered one solitary interview.

You can imagine that this process has been a little disheartening to me, and I have been trying my best to deal with controlling my sanity and level of happiness. I was considering moving back to Indiana for a few months in a recovery attempt, but have decided that I would rather struggle here than live at home like the loser I very well may be. I have swallowed my pride and accepted a production assistant that my good friends have been very generous to offer me. Luckily, pride is not very fattening, so I still look great.

I also need a new place to live...by June 1. My notice has already been turned into my slum lords, so I'm a little under the gun. But, I'm sure everything will work out. Totally positive. Couldn't be more excited about the future. Lying through my teeth...er fingers...I am typing this, you know.

I'll continue this later...

Untapped 9

2006-04-27T17:14:00.000-04:00

Untapped

Untapped 8 (the saga continues)

2006-04-25T19:57:00.000-04:00

Untapped

This is part of a series, so feel free to backtrack to catch up. Back to the track with you. Nice backtrack.

Shhh!

2006-04-25T14:11:00.000-04:00

Classic Loft Boys for Earth Day

2006-04-21T23:48:00.000-04:00

Classic Loft Boys

True story from college.

2006-04-19T18:54:00.000-04:00

A New Fragrance by Jamie Foxx

2006-04-14T23:15:00.000-04:00

idea by Ronin Duncan

What if it's his real name?

2006-04-13T21:53:00.000-04:00

Untapped 7

2006-04-12T15:34:00.000-04:00

Untapped

Untapped 6

2006-04-10T16:50:00.000-04:00

Untapped

I just read this comic and my sides started hurting! Not from laughter though...I have horrible gas.

Untapped 5

2006-04-08T18:05:00.000-04:00

Untapped

Untapped 3 & 4

2006-04-06T15:59:00.000-04:00

Untapped

Untapped

I smell a series!

Classic Loft Boys

2006-04-05T19:05:00.000-04:00

Delicious link!

This is not a new strip. Notice the title, "Classic Loft Boys". I'm going to be posting old strips I made while a 5th-year Senior at Purdue University from time to time. I tried to make some kind of frame for the old strips so that's it's easier to differentiate them from the new Untapped series. Unfortunately, the frame I used made the strips even smaller and harder to read, so you'll just have to pay attention. An easy way to tell if a strip is old is if Jack is in it with long, feminine(?) hair.

Back in 1999, when the Purdue Women's Basketball team won the NCAA championship, the students rioted. I was there and had a great time. There was a huge bonfire and girls felt that a basketball championship is a good reason to expose their tits. I happen to agree. In 2000, the Purdue Men's Basketball team defied all odds and made it to the Sweet Sixteen. Of course, the students felt the need to riot again. I didn't participate this time, because let's face it, the Sweet Sixteen is nothing to get all worked up about. It was mainly underclassmen rioting in 2000, and I have a theory that they just felt riot-deprived.

Untapped

2006-04-02T17:10:00.000-04:00

Delicious link!

I wasn't going to post another comic until Monday, but I found myself sitting alone in my apartment watching women's golf and figured I could be a little more productive with my time.

I'm no longer calling the strip Struggling. I've reverted back to my earlier thought of Untapped. I had forgotten about that title completely until a friend reminded me. I think it's better because it has positivity implied with "untapped talent" or "untapped potential". "Struggling" sounds completely negative, and that's no good.

All right, then. Back to the women's golf. Surprisingly, it's loaded with gripping action.

Fun with my new scanner! Part 2

2006-03-31T18:43:00.000-05:00

This is me and my brother when we were about to go deep sea fishing in the Gulf of Mexico many years ago. You can tell that I was going to become a giant. Look at the size of my hands!

When this picture was taken, little did we know that we were about to enjoy five hours of violent illness on the high seas. We didn't take any sea sickness medication, because we didn't want to be drowsy. Well, we didn't sleep much. We spent the majority of the trip leaning over the side of the boat feeding the fish. I still look back on this trip with fondness, however. That's funny. I've probably never been that sick in my life, and yet I love this memory.

Oh, we still caught fish. We're dedicated to excellence in all areas of life. We came to fish, and nothing was going to stop us. However, we do look a little exhausted in the after pic.

Struggling

2006-03-31T15:05:00.000-05:00

Here it is! The premiere strip of Struggling. Hope you like it.

Delicious link!

This hasn't been the best day so far. I woke up hungover for the first time in a long time. I read an email from a girl that broke my heart that said she wasn't physically attracted to me. This isn't news, but it's just something you don't want to start your day with. My fault, of course. I sent her a drunken email last night trying to clear up some things that I would never bother with while sober. Mission accomplished. I am not attractive.

I went out last night to see The Squares and apparently got fairly lubricated. You should really go here if you want to hear The Squares. Tonight, I'm supposed to go back out and see The Whiskey Saints. I don't know that I'll be drinking too much, though. I guess I can't hang like I used to. Besides, drinking does not help you become more attractive...unless everyone else is drinking, too. Maybe I should send that girl a picture of me and a bottle of vodka and tell her to call me when things change.

Looking back and laughing

2006-03-30T21:20:00.000-05:00

Here are the first five strips of Loft Boys from when I brought the comic strip back to the Purdue Exponent during the second semester of my second senior year. The strip got very little recognition when it was previously in the paper my junior year (only one of those), and I think it was because it never grabbed anyone's attention. And why should it have? College students are far too busy with their regular lives to go out of their way to find some obscure comic strip in the student paper. So to get the attention that this strip deserves (and I obviously need), I brought it back with controversy, sex, and alcohol. In other words, I went after the Greek system. My comic strip become a moderate campus controversy, and in my mind, a huge success.

I know these are too small to read. I don't know how to fix that on Blogger. If anyone knows how, please inform me. Meanwhile, there's a link before each strip that will give you a much easier read.

Delicious link!

Delicious link!

Delicious link!

Delicious link!

Delicious link!

I've been writing a few new ones. I've changed Jack's hair, since so many people think he's a girl. That's a little embarrassing considering his hair is modeled after my hairstyle from when I created him. Anyways, he's much cooler now. Just like me?

I think I like setting them in Los Angeles and in "The Industry". They've been out here for about 5 years, and they are not successful. Jack is an actor/musician, and Scott is a comedian/director/writer/producer. Smiley is currently not being included. I know. I'm sad, too.

I need a new title. Currently, I like Struggling. It looks funny, and it's funny to say.

Good advertisement lines:
Struggling is a laughing matter.
Have you had your does of Struggling today?
Who enjoys Struggling? Why everybody, of course!

I'll get some of the new ones up soon. I need to make final sketches, and I do hate finals.

EDIT - The links work now. If you had trouble, refresh this page and try again.

Fun with my new scanner! Part 1

2006-03-30T18:05:00.000-05:00

Dan's doing much better these days.

Hey, last night did you watch--oh yeeeaaaah...I forgot

2006-03-08T20:46:00.000-05:00

I have no more television. Technically, I have no more cable, but I haven't attached an antenna, so that means no TV period. My cable bill + internet was over $100, and frankly I don't gots that kinda cash. It's just internet for me now. That's fine. Maybe I'll finally get some shit done. I still have my Netflix. I still have my Playstation 2. I still have my internet. That's good enough for now. How much home entertainment does one person need anyway?

I'm going to lift some weights now. Get huge. Get pumped. Get ripped. Get acne.

Sherlock Joelmes takes the case!

2006-03-06T20:36:00.000-05:00

I've had two interesting calls today. Twice today my phone has rung without me answering it. And both times, no one left a message. In these times of cellphones and caller i.d., it's pretty unusual for someone to call and not leave a message, let alone for this to happen twice in one day.

These are calls from two different phone numbers, you understand. Were these calls from two different people? It could have been one person from two different phones. But the area codes were different, and neither of them were from the Los Angeles area. If this was one person on two different phones, the caller would have to be either quite a traveler or live in a metropolitan area. Well, the location of these area codes shouldn't be too hard to figure out.

The first call I received was from area code 561 at 11:42am. I was just coming out of the shower when I heard the phone ring. It started ringing when I was only about 10 feet away, so I took my time walking to it. Running to answer a ringing phone is the #8 leading cause for injury in the home. Unfortunately, I was too slow, because just as I opened my phone, the screen read Missed Call. So, either the caller hung up just before I could answer, or my phone gave me the old short ring and went to voicemail. The short ring can be such a pisser.

The second call came from the 407 area code at 4:55pm. This call came while I was trying to do a load of laundry. I didn't have my phone on me and was completely consumed with rage over the fact that the only available washing machine had just eaten another $1.50 of mine. That's $4.50 in the past two weeks! And, it's not just the one washer, either. Both of the washing machines have robbed me during this stretch! I went to my apartment manager who was actually here for once, and she told me that a maintenance guy was here to work on things. I told him that the washer wasn't working, and he said that he was only here to check on the new paint job in the laundry area. So, I said, "Oh. Well, the washers don't work. I'm losing money in them, and my clothes are not getting clean. But the paint looks great!" How do you check on a paint job? What are the walls going to do? Change colors on you?

So, I missed that call completely.

I jumped on my handy dandy internet and Googlized these area codes. 561 is from Southeastern Florida, Palm Beach County. 407 is from Central Florida, Metro Orlando. Those sound fairly close to me. Let's go to the map!

As you can see, the two locations are close to each other but not super close. Certainly, the caller could have a friend that has a phone with the other area code that they might have borrowed to make one of the calls. But, I'm starting to think that these are phone calls from two different people. I have a theory, you see.

What day is it today? Monday. What just went by? The weekend. What happens on the weekend? People party. Why do they party? Guys are trying to get laid, and girls are looking for guys with a lot of money. Do the guys get laid? Not unless they have a lot of money. What do they get instead? A lot of fake phone numbers.

Somewhere from Orlando to Southeastern Florida there's a chick saying she's from Los Angeles and giving out my phone number to guys that don't have enough money for her to sleep with them. These two guys then called my number today and hung up quickly when they heard my masculine voicemail. It is possible that they think I'm this girl's boyfriend or even husband, but I'm fairly certain they've been given wrong numbers before and are a little used to this.

In the meantime, if I receive anymore calls from strange area codes, I think I'll just let the voicemail answer and see if someone wants to leave me a message. Picking up and answering just wouldn't be the right thing to do. It could be even more embarrassing for these poor idiots if they actually had to talk to me, and I feel sorry enough for them as it is.

Well, it looks like Sherlock Joelmes has done it again! Another mystery solved and another load of laundry left unwashed. See you next time, kiddos!

Who names their kid Ludacris? That's ludicrous!

2006-03-06T17:53:00.000-05:00

Ang Lee watched a tape of the 1998 Academy Awards for tips on how to accept an Oscar.

Who watched the Oscars last night? I did. Kind of. Not really. I was actually watching Scream 3 and Scary Movie 3 on TBS and occasionally flipped to the Oscars on the commercial breaks. I just wasn't feeling the Oscars this year. However, I did flip over at one point just in time to see Ang Lee win Best Director for Brokeback Mountain. The first thing he did as he accepted his award was quote his own movie by saying to the little statue, "I wish I knew how to quit you." When Ang Lee saw James Cameron make his acceptance speech for Titanic and exclaim, "I'm the king of the world!" he must have thought it went over pretty well. However, right after Ang said this, the cameras panned the audience where multiple celebrities had a look of horror on their faces. But those expressions quickly changed to polite smiles and muffled laughter, because hey, Ang's foreign and thus deserves a free pass on this faux pas.

This morning, I caught a little bit of the replay of E!'s Red Carpet special. My favorite moment had to be when Isaac Mizrahi interviewed Ludacris.

Isaac (an effeminate fashion designer) told Ludacris (hip hop star) that he admired his sense of style and asked him if there was anyone that he emulated. Ludacris told him that he copies the style of Chris Bridges. "Who's that?" asked Isaac. Ludacris said that Chris Bridges is a new up-and-comer in Hollywood that has already sold over 10 million albums. By this time, it was pretty obvious that Chris Bridges is Ludacris' real name. But Isaac just had this blank look on his face as Ludacris walked away. It was beautiful.

Come on, Isaac. Chris Bridges? Ludacris? I wouldn't be surprised if Isaac Mizrahi occasionally gets baffled by Blue's Clues.

You broke the toilet seat? How did that happen?

2006-03-02T12:58:00.000-05:00

I had no idea you guys were so interested in hearing about my life! Over the past few weeks of internet silence, I have received dozens, nay tens of emails and letters asking me when I would post my next entry. Flattered, embarrassed, shamed, intrigued, giddy, gassy...those are just a few of the emotions these encouraging emails have within me stirred. Normally I prefer to have my emotions shaken, not stirred, but I still feel compelled to once again regale my faithful readers with tales of the past, current, and possibly fictional occurrences of my life.

I'm on hiatus from work. During this time off, I'm supposed to be doing all these important, creative things that will help me move my life in a positive, rewarding direction. Instead, I've been getting distracted. Online poker, television, castings (I'm still kind of working), and online poker have been taking up large portions of my free time. My parents came into town for a week, and that was a welcome distraction.

I'm the only member of my family that is still not living in Indiana. After my brother's family moved back last summer and my little sister got married (which can firmly plant anyone in suburbia), I was the sole Sumnyr left for my parents to visit. But when my parents visit me, they don't come to catch up on the goings on in my life. We don't go on any scenic trips or plays or do much of anything that is considered vacationing. Instead, they come to help me straighten up my life. No complaining here. This time I needed their help.

Instead of staying in a hotel, my parents stayed with me in my apartment. We all slept in the same room, because no one wanted to sleep in the kitchen. They purchased a queen-size bed to sleep in and then give to me. Actually, the charity guys were just here to pick up my twin bed and take it away. So there's one great thing from my parents' visit. I finally have a grown-up bed. And though it was a generous gift from my parents, I do feel like I paid for it a little. I did stay in the same room with my parents for a week at the age of 28. That's a serious test of stamina. I did consider smothering my father with a pillow one night due to his snoring. It's awful, the snoring. It sounds unhealthy. Painful at times. Labored. Stuttered. Loud. Sometimes whistles. I tried putting Kleenex in my ears the first night, but I was scared to roll on my side and have tissue forced into my brain.

My mom and dad bought me a bunch of stuff I needed, mostly from the 99 Cents Store. We went to a restaurant nearby called Mimi's for lunch one day, and my dad was so impressed by the portion of pot roast he received, that he insisted that we eat there each day. It was a lot of pot roast. My mother cleared out the mountain of boxes, books, and junk that had taken over my kitchen. My apartment is now officially presentable thanks to my mother's cleaning and expert placement of three pictures, a dart awards plaque, a table, and a light that actually turns on when you hit the light switch by the door. Not to mention all the scrubbing, dusting, sweeping, and general cleaning of the place. I have a new toilet seat, too. My dad broke the old one on his first of many extended trips to my bathroom. The seat cracked in two. Perhaps Mimi's is a little too generous with the pot roast.

Luckily, my mom apparently didn't find the condoms stored in an extra-bathroom-item-Tupperware. It would have been awkward trying to explain to her how long they have been there. "It's not like I'm using them anyway, mom!" She did however see a t-shirt of mine that says in bold letters, "Poke smot?" I told her that someone gave it to me, laughed it off, and put it in my drawer of shirts I was keeping.

It was a good visit, but now that they're gone I'm finding it difficult to get anything done. I have this overpowering urge to be lazy. Except for my morning hikes. Those are going strong.

Today, I have to write a treatment for a short film that my friend wants to make. Basically, I have to tell the story in paragraph form with no dialogue. There isn't hardly any dialogue in the story to begin with, so that part won't be difficult. However, I'm adding a new scene to the film AND I'm making adjustments to the whole story to make it better for screen. Originally, it was just a short story, so some of the story elements have to change. I can't describe anything. Everything has to be told visually.

I know all these things about what makes a story work and about how films can be entertaining or boring. I'm an excellent critic when it comes to this topic, however, I really don't have much experience actually creating. I'm a writer that never writes. In other words, I'm having doubts about my abilites. It's something I'll have to work through. I know that as soon as I sit down and start writing, everything will come out fine...and that I'll enjoy the process. But, I'm lazy you understand.

Beat you to it

2006-02-09T14:41:00.000-05:00

Apparently, I'm not the only Purdue Alumnus to read the Purdue Exponent online. However, I'd like to think that this guy had read my blog first. But that just can't be true. No one reads this.