Please God, Please Don't Let Me Be Normal!

Today is the first time in the past week where I've actually been able to rest. Well that's not true, yesterday was, but I slept all day yesterday, then woke up to listen to messages that ranged from mocking me with the existence of Scarlett Johansson to the awesomeness of the guest stars in season two of Veronica Mars (which is true, though you also have to take into consideration that the girl working with Joss Whedon was an America's Next Top Model contestant, which kind of sums it all up). It was just a wave of nausea, as I realized, this was my life. Then I had a snack. The week leading up to that point was just kind of a blur, a jumble of film shoots and stolen naps in between. I stayed awake for 36 hours, stole some furniture, pushed a kid out of a window, ate some donuts, drove on Lakeshore Drive, ran a shopping cart dressed like a pink bug/car down my hall at three in the morning, watched a man get drunk and pass out before 11 in the morning (though he woke up to consume a beef sandwich in about 30 seconds), saw a man get blasted away by a shot gun, and bought about 20 cans of creamed corn. Oh, and I finally got around to watching 'The Station Agent'. Great movie.

But of course, in the few moments I had, I spent looking for useless crap on the internet. For, the, I'm thinking five of you who might actually read this. Everything I do. I do it for you.

- What's the best thing about Wes Anderson's Mastercard ad? Robert Yeoman finally gets a speaking part. The man just has 'it', it's undeniable.

- 'Strangers With Candy' was really the first in the recent rush of shows that worked at making it's audience feel, really, really uncomfortable. We now get to see how a condensed two hour version will feel.

- Ronald D. Moore is creating a spinoff of Battlestar Galactica set fifty years before the current series, concerning the Adama family and the creation of the Cylons. Me and my imaginary girlfriend are super excited.

- Feel like buying me something? No, you probably don't. But if you have a Veronica Mars fan in your life, this is the perfect gift. Even though it makes Kristen Bell look like a puppet. And puppets aren't nominated for sexiest vegetarian. Though she doesn't really stand a chance, not when she's running against such super studs as k.d. Lang and Ed Begely Jr. It doesn't get any sexier than an alpaca.

I should sleep though. I have to work on someone's project tomorrow, and then I plan on catching the best double feature ever.

I Wish It Was Last September

I watched '24' last night, I'll watch 'Scrubs' tonight, and I'll watch two episodes of 'Alias' Wednesday night, as the show returns with it's first new episodes since Jennifer Garner's baby break, which are also the first two of what will be the final eight episodes of the series. What's funny about all of this is that this is exactly what I was doing five years ago (of course five years ago I didn't have this awesome beard - best choice I have ever made, ever). These are the first three shows that I ever obsessed over, that I made it a point to be home for every week, that I bought on DVD so I could suck all of my friends down into the glowing, week to week hell that is my life. I love these shows, and, wow, do I need a social life.

But now one of them is dying, by most accounts, a painful death. The first season of 'Alias' was, is, one of the greatest things to ever go on television, but after the 'Phase One' episode in Season 2, things started to slide off the rail (Evil Francie, Evil Lauren, Good Sloane, APO, Vampire Episodes), something series creator J.J. Abrams admits to. It's made watching this show a really, frustrating experience, seeing a glimpse of it's former greatness every now and then, but losing it the very next moment. It's like a big life lesson, some days will be as thrilling as when Quentin Tarantino tried to take over S-D6, but unfortunately most will be as boring as when Dixon gets all weepy and almost kills himself (we get it, you miss Diane). The greatest lesson 'Alias' has thought me over the last five years is, to quote another television classic, "You take the good, you take the bad, and then you have...". There's hope to be found though, in that the show is supposedly going to out on one of it's higher notes.


It's also weird how as 'Alias' shuffles off, the other two seem to be peaking in popularity. Scrubs is guaranteed to come back next year (which is basically the first time that's ever happened), and Kiefer Sutherland just signed on for three more years of '24', and just announced that preproduction is under way for the '24' movie, to shoot next year. Arguably, the show has hit it's stride, becoming a part of the zeitgeist like it never has, and if you needed more proof at how important '24' has become, look no further than the second card on this weeks Post Secret. Like you don't feel the exact same way.

It's Bad News

One of the nice things about my building is that we get to see the security feed from the lobby as a channel on our cable line up, and they play NPR over it, so I can listen to This American Life without having to own a radio, sparing me from ever accidentally tuning into a boisterous, pseudo-authoritative morning DJ humouring some C-rate porn star's breathy stories of her wild life, all while his sidekick laughs that same exact laugh that all radio sidekicks laugh in every market in the country (it's terrifying, like there's a clone army of small little men with pony tails, who just cackle at anything. "Would you like onions on that sir?" "Ha-ha!" "Sir please" "Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha..." "Please sir, there are children present"). One of the perks of this is that one night, as I was watching the police taser and restrain one of our students, high on angel dust, after he had started broadly attacking guests at a party, I realized that I was listening to Greg Kot, author of the Wilco biography Learning How To Die, talking about the greatest albums that were never released. It was almost as entertaining as watching my school mate have a security guard's knee shoved into his back, but then they put on those plastic hand cuff things and the kid just started roaring his head back, and well, there really isn't much that can compete with that. Except of course, this.

But I've stuck with Sound Opinions, and now listen to the show weekly, either over my super exciting security feed on Saturday or as a Podcast on Monday. Look at me, with my fancy words. Podcast. Next thing you know I'll be going on about my robot butler. Actually, why don't we have robot butlers yet? They can carry us, but they can't clean for us? Just one more way 'The Jetsons' set me up for a life of disappointment. Shenanigans man, fucking shenanigans. It's a cool show though, a mix of reviews, random discussions about music, and artist interviews. They talk to Jenny Lewis this week, and even have some of her live tracks up on their site. Hopefully they'll be enough to keep you from crying as 'Portions For Foxes' is butchered in the ads for the new Lohan cinematic masterpiece. I'm super excited for this movie, but then I'm a sucker for an original concept.

I've also begun listening to KRCW's The Treatment a weekly film interview show hosted by Elvis Mitchell. Elvis Mitchell always bothered me a bit with his smarmy film guy act (especially when I caught him on the Today Show saying he thought Scarlett Johansson was fine as an actress 'as long as she didn't say anything'. Dick.), but one thing he was good for was an interesting interview, since he actually knew what he was talking about most of the time. And that's what he's doing on 'The Treatment' (instead of working for Columbia Pictures, the reason he was rumoured to have left the times in the first place), talking to people ranging from David Mamet to Rian Johnson about film. Speaking of Rian Johnson, have you seen 'Brick' yet? Or bought it's soundtrack yet? Because you need to. Go ahead. I'll wait.

Someone Cooler Than You

Warm out today. Warm yesterday. Even warmer today.

Just because it was written by manatees doesn't make it false. It is hot. I worked on the film shoot again yesterday, and this time we were out in the park, where, among other things, I got to have the awesome job of sitting with the stuff. Even when it's nice out, I'm usually never in a position where I'm exposed to direct sunlight for more than an hour or two, so standing around in a park on the brightest day we've seen this year, my poor pale Irish skin was a lamb to slaughter. It's really unfortunate now too, because I've nurturing a beard along for the last month or so, and my hair has hit that point where it doesn't grow any longer, it just helmets out, so add that to a red face, and, I look like a pirate. And not, dashing, Captain Jack Sparrow pirate, more along the lines of a Mr. Smee, but without the glasses of course. It's sad though, I walk down the street, and I see the looks people give me, how they slowly try to cover their gold doubloons as I walk past. Fucking racists.

I saw Sonya Kitchell last night, performing at a bar on the north side of town. I've never actually been to a "bar" bar before, clubs like Helsinki and the Iron Horse have bars in them, but they're mainly clubs. This was a room attached to a bar, so every time the band would quiet down, the noise of about 50 drunken Friday night revelers trying to talk over a jukebox blaring 'Pyscho Killer' would flood into the room. This also led to my first time being carded by a scraggly looking bouncer, who I would have had trouble taking seriously as a record store clerk, who then proceeded to fire off instructions at me - "This room, that room, and the adjoining bathrooms, they are off limits to you. You go to that column there, you take a right, that's your bathroom, you take a left, you're outside, and you can never come back in, you're on fire, you're still outside, got it? You see that poster there, that amusing poster of an ostrich stealing a beer from a fat Irish cop?" "Yeah" "No, no you do not, you follow me?" "Not really." "Alright buddy, enjoy your show." I am forever to be called 'buddy' and 'sweetheart', I just know it. Anyway, the show itself was great, and would be more than enough to dispell your misguided notions against child prodigies. You know, if you have any.

California

I worked a film shoot Sunday, which involved working from 9am to 11pm, getting to sit down for about 20 minutes in there, and then I woke up on 9 Monday to finish editing my project (finished with 3 minutes to spare, yeah I'm smooth like that), and then play it for my class. So today was a sleep day, when I finally got to remember what it felt like to rest my feet, and I got a chance to treat the sunburn I got standing outside all day (seriously, I got sunburned on my lips in 40 degree weather, I cry shenanigans). I'll tell more about the shoot when I'm done (rabbits! mayonnaise! other near death experiences!), but for now, I just wanted to comment on this story. Apparently Mischa Barton wants to leave 'The OC'. And I say, brilliant idea Mischa. And she says, sir, I'm going to need you to step back. It's amazing how much she looks like a threatening body guard. I gave up on 'The OC' about three months back, when Fox moved it to 9, against 'My Name Is Earl' and 'The Office'. I tried watching a bit of last week's episode when NBC tried tricking me into watching the pilot of 'Teachers' (which, despite the fact that it has Jenny from Alias, still isn't watchable), and now, Marissa is on drugs... again, Seth was on drugs, and now is all mopey, and breaks up with Summer for some horseshit reason, and Ryan is off being boring with some girl, who no one cares about. This show sparkled in it's first season, it was the funniest show on TV that just used the soap opera angle as a way to pay the bills.

But now it's just existing because it has to, it's just trodding along, with no where to go. They ruined it at the beginning of last year, where in the first episode where they introduced a slew of new characters who were... boring. And then they forced them on us for half the season, and when they were finally starting to grow on me (oh, look at Marissa's lesbian relationship, and there, Ryan's relationship with his kind of half sister, kind of), they kicked them all off. And they brought in Ryan's brother instead. Whoo! It all ended with Marissa shooting him, and me not caring (Logan Marshall-Green had the worst ends last season, getting shot by a 90 pound girl and then being tortured until he came out to his dad on '24)'. Now the show is just limping along, and if Mischa wants to leave, let her. The only reason she was enjoyable in the first season was to watch her and realize that she actually thought she was acting, and that she was doing a good job at it. But she wasn't, she just wasn't. You have the same reaction face for everything. Squinting your eyes a little more to show that you're hurt doesn't count. So if you want to go off into oblivion with Nicole Ritchie or Margot Kidder, or who ever is hip these days, knock yourself out. If that means the end of the show, even better, because it just means that the rest of the cast will be free to do worthwhile things. Adam Brody was in 'Thank You For Smoking' for about five minutes, but I can think of 10 of his lines right now, he's that good ("I'm going to impale your mom on a spike and feed her dead body to my dog with syphilis. It's an inside joke.")(Or, "That sand's not gonna rake itself, Hiroshi."). And he's going to marry Rachel Bilson, an actress who actually knows how to act cute, which is harder than you think. That's enough to get a career going, and then you can pick up more acting tricks as you go along. She has a movie with Zack Braff coming out this summer, 'The Last Kiss', so we'll see how it goes from there. Ben Mackenzie has been given so little to work with on this show recently ("Brood. No no, brood a little harder, but with softer eyes"), but in his few scenes in 'Junebug' show that if he has something to work with he can be really fucking good. Just watch the scene where he tries to tape the merecat special, or the looks he gives his brother at the church dinner. Peter Gallagher and Kelly Rowan? They've opened themselves up to be type casted as the best parents ever for the rest of their careers, which isn't a bad thing.

So go ahead Mischa, move on with your life. I can't wait to not hear more from you.

But We're Not Robots

I have an odd relationship with Starbucks. I go there not only because it's name reminds me of Katee Sackhoff, but because it's the closest place where I can buy The New York Times. But I never feel comfortable standing in line there, the person in front of me ordering an intricate drink with words that contain syllables like 'ato', 'ano', 'cia' and then usually ends with the phrase "And the foam on that needs to be half half and half and half 2%. Seriously, it's important." I then follow them up by going, "So, is that one cold, or hot?" "Which one?" There's a pause here, as I just scan the board looking for whatever name I find amusing. "Sir?" "I'll have a caramel... machiato?" "Is that an order or a question sir?" "I'll have that. That thing I just said." "What size would you like?" "Small please." "You mean tall?" "You know damn well what I meant."

In the middle of all this though, I noticed the CD that they were hawking in front of the register was Sonya Kitchell's. Sonya Kitchell, a girl from Western Mass, who I saw sing at Helsinki three years ago. When she was 14. Which means she's 17 now. Which means I feel like a total schlep. Three years later, she'll be playing at a club in Chicago to support the national release of her album, while I'll be sitting in a dorm room in Chicago, eating Ramen noodles. It makes sense of course, because she has been working and promoting herself, and the fact that she has a beautiful, captivating voice probably helps too. I tried singing once, but it didn't end well. After what, in my opinion, was a rousing version of 'We Didn't Start The Fire', I was told that I sound like a frog, more specifically a frog that had been run over and then left to bake in the sun a little. My grandma doesn't really make sense when she drinks though.

In other wonderkids news, The Star Wars Kid has settled his court case against the kids who leaked his tape to the world. Recently released documents detail how he was just, mercilessly mocked, which despite what most people think, really isn't as flattering to the kid being mocked as they think it is ("No seriously, I appreciate the effort that went into drawing all of these pictures depicting how fat I am, but all I'm asking is that you look at why I might not be super excited about it."). On the bright side though, he really has become a phenomenon, more than most embarrassing internet videos ever become, getting him referenced on shows like 'American Dad' and becoming a running gag on 'Arrested Development' (We should really get a new tape). I'm sure he would have rather that none of this ever happened, but hopefully in a few years he'll be able to see something positive in all of this. One lesson I hope he learned: always make sure that you have a clear space when you're practicing your lightsaber moves (seriously, the only reason I could see for that rag to be there was for him to slip on it). And, more importantly, don't tape it.

Also, I wanted to mention this great article on Scrubs running in the Sunday Times (which I bought for a buck, rather than the 5 it takes to buy the Sunday edition outside of the New York area, since they were selling it Saturday afternoon.) It tells the tale of why the show has been noticeably goofier this season, and why it'll probably stay that way (a good chunk of that is due to the fact that Howie Mendell's 'Suitcases and Numbers' is the best thing NBC has going for them right now). So, sorry Jake.

Riding To Vegas On A Moped

Scooter Libby has fingered President Bush as the one who authorized him to release a classified document that cited Iraq as trying to purchase uranium, to a newspaper reporter. I linked the BBC's story on it for a few reasons. One, they spell authorized with an 's', and I just think that's adorable. Two, they screw up and call libby 'Mr Scooter'. Here's the quote before anyone realizes the mistake. Or should I say realises:

'Mr Scooter, former chief-of-staff to Vice-President Dick Cheney, is facing trial in connection with another leak.'

I always imagined Mr Scooter looking more like that guy, rather than a grumpy 50 something who is still called Scooter. Mr. Scooter wears nifty sweaters, zooms through the streets of Rome with Audrey Hepburn, occasionally tipping his head back to let out a hearty laugh that ends with a gravel voiced "Fan-tastic." And then he lights up a cool, refreshing cigarette. Because he's just not Mr Scooter, without his Malboros. God, I miss the 50's.

I also just trust the BBC's integrity a bit more than CNN's, seeing how they were willing to run this as their headline, where CNN chose to put it off to the side, choosing to go with the 'We Firmly Support America And It's Adorable Orphans' angle. I know it's a story, but, for God's sake, they have the conviction, the guy admitted that he conspired in the attacks, he's proud of it, he ends every court day with a variation on 'God curse you all', it's not like they need to drive it home this much. Maybe there was a chance that one of the jurors wasn't aware of the impact of 9/11, maybe they've been really caught up in a Dostoevsky book for the last five years, and just kind of missed all of this. Buildings fell down you say? Well, this is what I get for being a slow reader. It all just seems like pandering, the prosecution is trying to cover up past misstep by bombarding the jury with really, fucking sad stories.

Speaking of sad stories, apparently Google Ads is worried about me. Sam sent me an email today where he mentioned Sofia Coppola (and something about a spleen and a dog, in reference to her acting), and Google ads offered me up tests to see if I was contemplating suicide. I'm just surprised I didn't get an offer for free translation in there too.

I'm Only Sleeping

There really isn't a greater feeling than shooting a project till 3 in the morning, and then waking up at 8 to get the equipment back in on time, to come home in the middle of 'My Super Sweet 16' marathon. Watching Bjorn throw up in the middle of his fashion show super party in a mall, well, it makes the fact that I've slept 10 hours in the last two days kind of all right. I've also discovered that the Dicovery Channel is the perfect channel to watch when you're too physically tired to pick up the remote, since it's almost guaranteed that I'll enjoy whatever they have on. I know nothing about motorcycles, or why there is an Orange County in New York, but I still find 'American Chopper' entertaining. Because, you know, they're gruff, and, mildly wacky. Oh, and they yell at each other. I guess you kind of have to be there. When that ends, it's all right, because the Discovery Channel has my back, with a show about real life giants. Did you know Abraham Lincoln was a giant? Because he was. Did you know he ate babies? Yup. For fuel. That's actually what one of the driving reasons for the South succeeding from the Union was, they were just fed up with Lincoln's Yankee, baby eating ways. Oh sure, we remember the slavery, but once they lost, all of the South's strong anti-baby eating positions were forgotten. Damned revisionist history.

The new season of 'South Park' is underway, tonight 'Family Guy' will be added to the pile of things the show rips apart. Though to be fair, I've read a lot of Chris Ware comics, and the main thing I remember about them is that they're so small and so many stories are so packed into his anthologies, that it might be possible that MacFarlane read the comics but forgot about it, and then just subliminally... actually no, that probably didn't happen. But if Ware uses this episode as a way to stir up some controversy, I know somewhere MacFarlane could get a little black mail (Seriously, super hero costumes are something reserved for when you get home, not during school). It'll be interesting to see how this episode is received, since 'Family Guy' seems to be loved by the same people who follow 'South Park'. It'll be interesting to see if this will back fire on the 'South Park' team, because if there is one thing I learned at school, its that people love to quote 'Family Guy'. We don't even do it to be funny anymore, it's more out of the fact that they've destroyed their brain cells to the point when they can only speak in second hand pop culture references that they don't even get. Good times. Also, in more South Park related... things, I was looking up Steven Speilberg's resume as an actor (my life, is just, so exciting) and found this short film he appeared in, which was directed by Trey Parker. This story explains it, but it doesn't explain how a major film studio was purchased by a wine cooler. All I know now is that my apartment is in sore need of a snazzy porcelain deer.

I'm going to sleep, but I thought I'd link this story first. That guy got off easy though, I was savagely beaten with a plunger for four hours after whistling 'Somebody Got Murdered' while standing in line a security checkpoint at Midway. The first two hours were because they thought I was serious, the second was just because the guy was a Sex Pistols fan.


In the fast I've found that I enjoy screetchy guitars and female vocals more than most of my friends, which is a shame, since, Giant Drag's 'Hearts and Unicorns' was one of my favorite albums last year, but I felt awkward about telling anyone about it, so I just sat in my car and listened to it by myself. Then my neighbor next door would give me weird looks, but I would just give him weird looks back, because I was not the one holding a rake in the middle of January. Anyway, these covers are a little more accessible, I've been listening to this 'God Only Knows' cover over and over for the last few days. I'm starting to like it as much as the original, which is saying a lot. And this Chris Isaac cover is alright, but its worth listening to just for the introduction. Cat head indeed.