B.L.O.G.

Apple gave me a hard time with this iPod engraving.

2011-04-06T02:51:00.011-04:00

Just found my old iPod, which thanks to my iPhone, I now never use. This particular iPod was a replacement for a stolen one. When I told the Apple rep what I wanted the engraving to read, she said "it might be a problem," and had to check with a supervisor. "After all" she continued, "we don't want to be encouraging this sort of thing." Come on, the only person who'd really be seeing it is the person who's stealing it.

My ego's gone viral.

2011-03-02T02:50:00.003-05:00

When I look at who's most interested in their work becoming a meme (present company included) it makes sense that the word is "me" twice.

My encounter with an out-of-towner.

2011-02-28T00:53:00.003-05:00

TOURIST: Excuse me, how do you get to Ground Zero?

ME: Practice. Practice. Practice.

TOURIST: (dazed stare)

Jeff 4.0

2010-07-06T00:12:00.009-04:00

To celebrate my 40^th, some friends and I went to Commerce for dinner. Commerce was once Grange Hall, a restaurant I used to go to often but hadn’t been to since it closed years ago.

This seemed like a perfect place to have my 40^th. It was immediately familiar, since they hadn’t changed the interior much at all. I knew where everything was; the bar, my favorite seat, the bathrooms. And a quick glance around brought back memories of dinners, brunches, and lunches I enjoyed over the years. Yet, the menu was completely new and foreign.

It was a lot like being 40. At this point, I know myself pretty well, but I have no expectations as to what might be coming next. I’m comfortable, but not so comfortable that I’ve given up on being surprised. Given how much fun the night was, I hope the rest of my 40's keeps the analogy alive.

Who blogs anymore?

2010-05-26T18:43:00.004-04:00

Now that there's Twitter and Facebook?

You can find me there if you need me. Although there's nice stuff to read here too.

Hey, let go my ego!

2010-02-17T17:47:00.014-05:00

I know of people who vow never to join Facebook. Many of them cite their fear of having their identity stolen as their main reason for keeping away.

To me, this is akin to Navajos believing cameras could steal their souls.

Let's pretend for a moment being on Facebook really did set you up for identity theft. In this reality, eventually, we'd all have our identities stolen. This could teach us a valuable lesson. Maybe we'd come to realize these identities we hold so dear aren't really something we can "own," and that we are too attached to our idea of "self."

But what's so bad about a future where I steal a little piece of your identity? After all, in this world, you've probably pick-pocketed a little slice of mine. My neighbor downstairs might have stashed away some of my identity too. He's probably after those precious years where I had all my hair and zero acne. In the end, we'd all own a little piece of each other. Isn't that beautiful? Our true connectedness would surface and we'd all become One.

I'm ready. I'll get the ball rolling. My Social Security number is 105-75-63... On second thought.

In the news.

2010-02-08T23:49:00.003-05:00

In Antarctica, researchers have found five cases of whiskey buried beneath the ice for over 100 years. The researchers are now frantically digging through the ice in hopes of finding five cases of sour mix.

That was the first joke I wrote for my "Writing for Late Night" class. I preferred the version below, but it didn't go over as well:

In Antarctica, researchers have discovered five cases of whiskey buried beneath the ice for over 100 years. They’ve also discovered Julie, the researcher none of them would have ever gone home with before, is now strangely attractive.

Disastrous

2010-01-21T17:42:00.008-05:00

I think more Americans would text "Haiti" to make a donation if they knew how to spell Haiti.

Stereo-typist.

2010-01-16T02:39:00.006-05:00

Today I discovered I can stereotype 30 races per minute.

Making a blockbuster movie is easy. (Spoiler alert)

2009-12-26T00:00:00.003-05:00

Yesterday, I enjoyed a traditional Jewish Christmas – a movie and Chinese food.

The movie was Avatar, which was visually stunning. Directed by James Cameron, it bore striking similarities to his other blockbuster, Titanic. Both feature a main character that goes on a journey initially meant for someone else. Both of these characters then fall in love with a woman from a completely different world than their own. They are both found guilty of a crime the are truly innocent of, and locked up while disaster occurs all around them. A woman eventually frees them both and they go off to save the day. Both our heroes die in the end, only for us to learn that their spirits live on.

Simple. Go write a blockbuster today.

Usually it's a period, not a hyphen, that causes bleeding.

2009-12-18T03:12:00.006-05:00

I shave in the shower. So I have, what is supposed to be, a fog-less mirror. This would imply it's a mirror that doesn't get foggy.

Rather than "Fog-less Mirror," the box should read: "Fog. Less Mirror." That's what I wind up with - a lot of fog, which leaves much less mirror to see myself in.

Let the clotting begin.

I need to work on my typing skills.

2009-12-15T23:45:00.003-05:00

I misspelled an emoticon today.

On burning up.

2009-11-26T18:00:00.001-05:00

Back when I lived in San Francsico, my apartment had a roof you could easily see both the Bay Bridge and The Golden Gate from. Given the amazing views, lots of us in the building kept grills up there for BBQ's.

One day, I went up there with my buddy Jason Stanfield to make some burgers, only to find my grill was gone! Not just my grill, but everybody's. I freaked out. I mean I really went nuts. I was so angry someone would take my stuff. I took it as a personal affront. Now, this was one of my big issues - taking things personally and ramping out of control. (Okay, those are two issues.)

Jason tried to explain that since everybody's was gone, having the grills up there probably violated a rule of the building. And, in any event, it was just a $40 grill, not worth getting all riled up about. I wasn't having any of that, and I eventually tired myself out with anger.

The next day, the landlady told us the Fire Marshall was doing an inspection, and she hid all our grills so the building wouldn't get ticketed. We were free to have them back now that the coast was clear. After that incident, Jason would use the word "grill" to remind me to stay calm and not let anger get the best of me. Especially when I may not have all the facts.

I'm now back in NYC, and the view from my living room window is the word "grill" in neon lights. It's a good constant reminder to not let the world get to me. Which is real easy to forget in a city like this. Thanks Jace.

Is it bad that I only become aware of historic or socially significant events when Google changes their logo?

2009-11-10T17:24:00.002-05:00

Carbon(ated) dating.

2009-10-19T23:57:00.004-04:00

Recently, the company I work for created an iPhone application for Amp, an energy drink made by Pepsi. It was called "Know Before You Score," and it was designed to help guys pick up women. As reported in the Los Angeles Times:

The application provides pick-up lines and other charming tools to seduce a "wide" variety of females -- 24 in total -- including the bookworm, the cougar, the athlete and the women's studies major. It also has a "Brag" feature which encourages users to "include the name, date, and whatever details you remember" about successful hookups or failed conquests.

Pepsi removed the application after receiving heated criticism for stereotyping women. Ridiculous move Pepsi! You guys make a living selling tons and tons of corn-syrup-infused water to millions. Promoting sex between two (or more) human beings is certainly a much more natural and wholesome offering. I'd continue down that path, and forget the fizzy stuff.

And the app was educational. Who knew there were 24 different types of women?

Let's put national healthcare reform into a giant silver balloon so it can get some real attention.

2009-10-15T13:53:00.004-04:00

Thank your friendly multi-national banking conglomerate for saving your life!

2009-10-08T15:07:00.011-04:00

Thousands of Americans are being driven from their homes by an insidious danger: defective Chinese drywall. This Great Drywall of China contains sulfur compounds, causing foul odors, nosebleeds, headaches, and the corrosion of metal objects and appliances, forcing residents to flee in droves.

So, a hefty pat on the back to our Nation’s housing lenders and banks. For years, they’ve been trying to protect everyday citizens by taking away their homes, one by one.

When the likes of Fannie Mae, Citibank, and Countrywide heard everyday Americans were under attack from a Communist threat lurking within their sunken living rooms, they leaped into action. They didn’t waste time asking if homes even had this drywall, they couldn’t take that chance. They foreclosed first and asked questions later. Every split-level ranch was a potential Manchurian Candidate, a sleeper cell waiting to unleash anti-American fury.

Now, don’t worry about me, I’ve had all my drywall replaced with faith-based interior supports. While government bailouts are a small step towards thanking them for their selfless efforts, my gratitude will likely go a long way in their recovery.

Leave health care alone.

2009-10-01T01:38:00.004-04:00

The New York Times reports 263,000 jobs were lost in September, with the one bright spot being the health care industry, which ADDED 19,000 jobs. By contrast, 64,000 construction jobs were lost last month. I think it's clear that our health care system is WORKING. Literally.

We must all urge Obama to leave our health care system alone! We cannot risk tinkering with a sector that's producing jobs. Clearly, people's lack of adequate preventative health care is keeping doctors from joining the ranks of those unemployed construction workers. I mean if Indians start losing their jobs too, our unemployment lines will start looking like auditions for the Village People. As a country, we can not go back to the days of the Village People.

A booming health care industry also keeps tons and tons of 5-month old magazines in waiting rooms across the nation, and out of landfills. So you see, the current system is also good for the environment. So please join in me in calling for end to health care reform.

Come to think of it, if doctors were to wind up on the unemployment lines, it would put everyday out-of-work Americans closer to their health care providers. Hmmmm. Let me think this over some more.

Facebook Coincidence.

2009-09-17T01:13:00.003-04:00

These two friends of mine know nothing of each other, and just happened to wind up with back to back postings on my wall. The earworms are everywhere.

My book report.

2009-08-14T21:31:00.045-04:00

Recently, I was unpacking some books. As I took them out of the box, I put them randomly on my bookshelf without paying much attention. When I went back to organize them properly, I saw these two books had wound up next to each other.

The universe is one kooky place.

Partly cloudy with a 90% chance of a bargain.

2009-08-13T11:42:00.000-04:00

If you live in NYC, you know it's rained a lot recently. You're probably also keenly aware of those ubiquitous $5 black umbrellas that blow apart in the wind, or from the light breeze of a sneeze.

That's why I was surprised to find a box full of incredible umbrellas for five and seven bucks in the back of this Lower East Side pharmacy. These are seriously sturdy, big umbrellas, for the price you'd pay for disposable one. I have to wonder if they're mis-priced. Go get 'em.

I don't think this neighborhood can appreciate the amazingness.

2009-08-11T01:03:00.028-04:00

Snapped this in Vancouver two New Years Eves ago. Just re-found it in my camera. Click pic to enlarge.

Nice solution.

2009-08-10T11:13:00.030-04:00

I like this billboard for Puma stores down by Lafayette and Houston. I'm sure the assignment was to simply let people know where in NYC you can find their flagship stores and running shoes. The addition of three simple words turns it into a fun and memorable message that makes great use of its location. Well done. (Click pic to enjoy the details.)

Shifting gears.

2009-08-08T00:59:00.029-04:00

I'm a talker. I talk a lot. Sometimes to the exclusion of listening. I can also fall into the trap of being all talk and no action. Today I shifted gears on both these fronts, putting a project into motion while doing a whole lot of listening in the process.

My friend Kyle and I collaborated on a project which had us doing man-on-the-street interviews in Union Square for a few hours. A few hours of listening to all sorts of people. A question here, a little back and forth there, but mostly listening. I found it changed my interactions with everyone that day, even after we put the camera away and stopped shooting.

In the cab from the shoot, I was remembering how much fun it was to just listen to all the different strangers I met. At that moment, the driver started telling me a very long and intricate story about his family history and aspiring music career. I maybe said twenty words the whole ride, but when I got out of the car, he told me how talking with me "made his day."

Later on, I went to an art/music show at PS1 MoMA called WARM UP. In Jonathan Horowitz's exhibit (which I highly recommend by the way) a woman started a great conversation with me out of the blue. Throughout the day, it was as if the vibe I was sending out was "talk to me, I'll listen." I think it took being forced into listening all day to help me realize the fun, and power, in it.

One of the more visually interesting and participatory exhibits at PS1 was this pool people could gaze at each other through. It was a great show with plenty to see, and of course, listen to.

Stupid camera flash. Red eyes every time.

2009-08-05T02:17:00.009-04:00

Obama. Spotted at corner of 6th and C.

The Pump. Deflated.

2009-08-04T02:30:00.000-04:00

The Pump is a small chain of health-conscious restaurants here in NYC. I've been going to them for years, drawn in by their apparent obsession with providing a healthy diet to all. However, the other day, they really disappointed me.

Below is a screen shot from their website.

As you can see (clicking it makes it bigger), they state: "We use only whole, unprocessed ingredients like fresh vegetables, brown rice, and whole wheat pita."

The other day, I ordered their pancakes, which come with with maple syrup. I wondered how they could afford to give out free natural maple syrup since it's usually pretty expensive. I asked to see the syrup bottle. When they showed it to me, the first ingredient in the list was CORN SYRUP. Corn syrup is not only one of the most processed foods out there, but outside of AIDS, it's one of the worst things you can put in your body.

When I complained, they told me to call their main office. What followed was ridiculous.

They first told me they do only use natural ingredients - in the foods they prepare. I explained that their site, and their stores, boast how they offer only healthy offerings, and how corn syrup doesn't fall into that equation. And, by giving this type of syrup away with their breakfast, it IS an ingredient they are using.

Then they tell me they serve this crap because of how expensive real maple syrup is, and how no one else has ever complained. I explained that when your restaurants are plastered with how healthy everything you guys use is, the assumption is that everything here is natural. And, the fact that nobody has "caught" you doesn't make it okay.

They proceeded to give me a whole bunch of excuses. I told them they should at least offer a natural version of maple syrup to those who'd pay the extra, and let people know that some of what's on their menu doesn't subscribe to their health claims. Instead of even saying "we'll look into it," they tried to defend themselves. Silly.

This really isn't about the maple syrup. It's about a company being trustworthy and standing by their philosophy. There's really no way of knowing if the rest of their menu is full of unhealthy items. No matter how you cut it, they're full of shit. Well, shit is organic. Maybe they're right after all then.

Mmmmm. Doubt in every bite.

2009-08-03T11:18:00.060-04:00

Forever?

Like until we die?

Well, how long do you plan on living?

Is it too late to change my mind?

Why are these fucking question marks all over my wedding cake?

Duane Greed. Now easier and more enjoyable to shoplift.

2009-07-30T01:55:00.002-04:00

Saw this poster at the Duane Reade on 2nd Street and Ave. B. Very well re-written in my opinion.

Fill in those blanks in. Yeah, fill 'em in good.

2009-07-15T01:19:00.008-04:00

Shannon, a girl I hadn't seen since high school, came by to spend a little of my birthday with me the other day. We got to reminiscing, and remembered this.

I was her paperboy, and used to hang out with her a bit during my route. One day, she broke out a MadLibs book. I proceeded to fill in the nouns, adjectives and verbs with the dirtiest words my 13-year old brain could wrap itself around. It was prose that would have made Mamet proud.

When I came to collect the money from her dad at the end of the week, he stood there with the MadLibs in his hand. He then had me read from it aloud. It was pretty humiliating. Not so much because I got caught, but beacuse when he pushed me to explain what all the words meant, I didn't really know.

Back then, I didn't know if a blow-job was a noun or a verb, and I had no idea you couldn't conjugate a pussy. Still, I think it was some of the best writing I have ever done.

A funny thing happened on my way to nowhere.

2009-07-07T03:39:00.005-04:00

I’m aware comparing yourself to others will only lead you down a rabbit hole. But, I’m only human. Or in this case, rabbit.

The other day I found myself walking around the city feeling blue. I had just turned 39, and I was going over in my mind how, lately, many of my friends have been racking up some seriously prestigious awards in the advertising industry. Meanwhile, the situation I’m in right now hasn’t afforded me many opportunities to produce finished work and shine as brightly as my buddies.

I’m certainly happier for my friends than I am jealous of them. Well, I might be a bit jealous, but in a way that pushes me to try and do better work myself rather than be all “sour grapes.” And I’m thankful to have so many talented friends. I also know creating your own projects can be fulfilling, as well as beneficial to any creative person’s career, so there’s no need to wait around for your job to plop an opportunity in your lap. Still, on this day, I was lamenting how the accolades of the ad world haven’t been coming my way, and truth be told, haven’t been due.

Then, I tried focusing on something positive about my creative output – my improv. Since returning to New York, the work I’ve been doing at the Upright Citizens Brigade has been met with a lot of positivity by my mentors and peers. While improv isn’t a tangible thing I can put in my portfolio, submit to award shows, boost my salary with, or share with anyone other than the small audiences who see it, I was patting myself on the psychological back for having a creative outlet that made me happy and garnered some recognition.

At that absolute very moment, I happened to look down at the ground. There on the sidewalk lay an empty box from a bobblehead of the character Hiro, from the TV show Heroes. Masi Oka, the guy who plays Hiro was someone I recruited to be in SNAFU, an improv group I put together in San Francisco. Even as I tried to find my way past envy, the world just couldn’t resist shoving another friend who’s achieved a higher level of success and industry acknowledgement than me in my face. I laughed out loud. As good as my comedic timing may be, the universe’s is better. Well, I gotta run. I have a hole filled with carrots to get to.

P.S. I’ve been typing this on a plane to Denver to see my buddy Sean and go on a whitewater rafting trip. They just announced we are about to land and need to close our laptops, right as I’m finishing this post. See, my timing is indeed stellar. Take that universe.

It's all a lie!

2009-07-02T16:15:00.005-04:00

AgencySpy has it all wrong. Yes, there was an outbreak of Swine Flu at our agency. But what is being mistaken for "pandemonium" over a health scare was simply excitement over this being one of the first things our agency's been involved with that has truly gone viral.

(click image to enlarge)

They're off!

2009-06-27T23:53:00.008-04:00

As I sit here reflecting upon all the hearts, and children's privates, Michael Jackson touched during his life, I notice the race to find which celebrity has been most emotionally affected by another celebrity's passing has officially begun.

Hey New York, stop fucking hitting me.

2009-06-02T23:51:00.002-04:00

Look New York, in the past year, I've lost 20 pounds and have gone from 18% body fat down to 11. What I'm getting at is, I'm not taking up all that much space, so stop bumping into me!

I get smacked into, on average, ten times a day. On the subway. On the sidewalk. In the department stores. Everywhere.

When I lived amongst the Los Angeles sprawl, I could go months without a single soul even brushing up against me. Probably 'cause everyone was hermetically sealed away inside their cars. Not that I want to go back to such isolation. LA was pretty lonely sometimes. It got to the point where I considered getting into car accidents just to meet people. But the streets of wall-to-wall people here who act as if I were invisible is too much.

Here's a picture of what I look like (before the weight loss mind you). If you see me, please make some room. Thank you.

Broken English.

2009-05-29T01:54:00.002-04:00

Trump Card

2009-05-24T18:51:00.000-04:00

I was playing a game of Apples to Apples a while back. In case you're not familiar with the game, a card with an adjective is turned face-up. Each player has seven cards with nouns on them. All the players throw down a noun-card they think is the best match for that adjective. The judge of that round then determines whose noun is the best, or funniest, match. Usually, some lively debate ensues as people try to defend their nouns.

During this round, the adjective we had to match was "heartless." Here are the cards that were then thrown down, in order. When I saw "J.F.K. assassination," I figured nothing could top that. Guess I was wrong. Damn you Hitler. Damn you to hell. In defense of my card, I do think feminists are pretty heartless, although they are fun to objectify.

My iTunes plug-in (in development).

2009-05-23T11:43:00.000-04:00

Buying and listening to music has changed a lot since my days of puberty.

It used to be you had to flip through racks of albums, only to find you've wound up with only one or two good songs scattered amongst ten tracks full of filler. Many times, the hunt for the record was more fulfilling than the record itself. You kind of lose that sense of fun when you buy music through iTunes.

In an effort to bring some of the old-school, record store charm to the digital age, I'm developing an itunes plug-in that recreates one of the staples of the days of vinyl. With my plug-in, you simply choose the songs you want in iTunes, click to check out, and then you'll be greeted with a smug, arrogant record store clerk who judges your selection with a roll of his eyes. And because he's digital, he can pop up every time you play the song to remind you that your salaried job will never be able to buy you the coolness he commands at 5.50 an hour.

My Larry David life.

2009-03-27T15:35:00.017-04:00

Larry David and his Curb Your Enthusiasm writers must be following me around, stealing material based on the uncomfortable and awkward trouble which seems to find only me. Here are two recent examples.

A very well known, highly awarded, advertising Creative Director is a Facebook friend of mine. Here's a screen shot of an exchange we had.

I interviewed with this guy before, and was happy he still wanted to work together.

After this interaction to the left, I explained I was now full-time, but if he really needed help, I would try to do a little work for him on the evenings or weekends. He went on to tell me I was a talented guy and that we'd do great work together, blah, blah, blah.

Moments later, we have this exchange.

To those not in the "ad biz," Gerry Graf is another high-profile Creative Director, possibly even more awarded than the guy I'm talking with here.

Then, the next day, I had to see a doctor for a fairly invasive procedure. (I'm fine, thanks asking.) It being my first time at this doctor, I was greeted with a clipboard of obligatory forms to fill out. As I flipped the papers I got to one that seemed kind of odd. Turns out it was another patient's very personal records.

I went up to the office manager who gave me the forms and complained quite harshly, telling him it didn't instill a lot of confidence in me, knowing how this office was being run. He apologized, and I went back and sat down.

Turns out he wasn't the office manager, but the physician's assistant, and was going to be assisting as things were being shoved into my body. There was an uncomfortable vibe in the room, made even more so by my paper gown which failed to fully close in the back. It was faint, but I thought I heard the music from the closing credits of Curb.

The RSVP that got away.

2009-03-13T00:26:00.009-04:00

I was recently invited to give a lecture at The Freedom Law School, an organization that believes federal income tax is unconstitutional. So why would a group like this offer to fly me, an ad guy, all the way out to California (all expenses paid) to give a lecture? Simple, they had the wrong Jeff Greenspan.

They were looking to invite this Jeff Greenspan , the SW Regional Coordinator for Ron Paul's 2008 presidential campaign, and controversial figure in Nevada politics. (For the record, I too dig Ron Paul.) Funnily enough, I've actually met this other Jeff Greenspan. I guess these Freedom Law dudes just went to my site, jeffgreenspan.com, and emailed me from there, assuming I was him.

I made the mistake of telling them I wasn't the Greenspan they were looking for. I should have accepted the invite. I should have gone and gave the following speech:

"Hello Ladies and Gentlemen. I'm Jeff Greenspan. Thank you for having me. Everyone in this room believes we should be exempt from paying any federal income taxes. (hold for applause) So, you want to make use of the nation's highway system, live under the protection of our defense department, and take advantage of the federally funded infrastructure of our country without any contribution of your own. Basically, you want a free ride. Well, I came here with a plane ticket that you all paid for, stayed in a hotel on your dime, and enjoyed a nice daily spending budget which you all graciously provided. But, I'm not the Jeff Greenspan you're looking for. I just wanted a free ride, just like you guys want. Kinda shitty, isn't it? Thank you. Now, if you don't mind, I have an already paid for plane to catch. Good night."

I'd probably get beat up or something. So I just stayed home and curled up with my W2.

Hold please.

2009-03-10T10:10:00.004-04:00

While on hold with my pharmacy, the Spice Girls' "Wannabe," was playing. As I was greeted with the enticing refrain of "tell me what you want, what you really really want," I thought to myself what a poignant question I was being asked, given the large amount of psychotropics sitting on the other end of the line.

What do I want, what do I really really want? Vicodin.

Ahhh, I amuse myself.

2009-01-26T18:54:00.011-05:00

I made a joke awhile back that I thought of the other day, and I chuckled at my own cleverness. I figured someone had to.

My friend Ryan named his son Dash. I asked if that was short for Hyphen.

Haaa hahahha hah hhahahahhahahahah ahahh ahahahahah

In reality, it's short for Dashel, and he's quite cute. His dad (pictured) is pretty talented too. He's the creator and co-star of Sailor Man, a very cool show where the violent exploits of a well-known cartoon sailor are brought to blood-soaked life. It's been getting incredible reviews, and as of this writing, it's about to begin a second run. Check it out here.

Customer service in the afterlife.

2009-01-22T13:19:00.008-05:00

I've come to expect poor customer service nowadays. From the never-present waiter, to the Sprint representative who couldn't tell me why they still sold the HTC Touch phone when the fact that it doesn't ring is one of their "known issues." Yes, I've come to expect lousy treatment like this, and the other day, Duane Read didn't disappoint.

They "lost" my prescriptions. When I pressed for more answers, the girl behind the counter giggled "I don't usually work here, I don't know what to do." There she was in her white lab coat, which when teamed with her skill set, barely qualified her to work behind a Clinique counter, let alone a pharmacy's. One of my most used phrases seems to be "let me to speak to the manager." It's a demand so inextricably linked to my life that I'll likely have it etched into my tombstone.

Mixed signals.

2008-12-28T13:00:00.008-05:00

I've noticed a disturbing trend here in the East Village. The WALK/DON'T WALK lights have been misfiring, showing the red hand for "stop," AND the white walking-man for "go" at the same time.

I'm afraid this case of mixed signals has stretched beyond my neighborhood's traffic signals.

My job: They moved me out from Los Angeles, and pay me well, because they "value me for my creative abilities." Yet, they don't call upon me for these talents; not in a true sense. I find my role as a Creative Director is becoming more and more like that of a producer. My strengths when it comes to conceptual thinking and narrative storytelling aren't being mined, or even scratched at.

Now that I'm dating again, I've been exposed to a smorgasbord of mixed signals. I was recently at a club, talking to someone all night who showed serious interest, even asking me to leave the club and go hang out. Cool, right? I go to get my coat from coat check, and poof - a disappearing act.

I met somebody else who clearly explained we should have a strictly platonic relationship. Friends only. Okay. Then, this person text messages me to ask if I want to come to a "bit of an orgy." As if "a bit of an orgy" wasn't a mixed message in and of itself. How do you have a "bit" of an orgy? Hell, if I'm going to be in an orgy, I don't want some half-cocked (pun intended) "bit" of an orgy. I want a full on Roman-style distgust-fest.

And the other day I saw an online Sprint ad for a holiday promotion. It had a winter-like landscape with the word "calls" written over and over again in white type, falling through the sky like snowflakes. The message was supposed to be that this promotion gives you a ton of calls. All I saw were hundreds of "calls" dropping.

I guess if I'm honest with myself, I put out a ton of mixed signals myself. From what I say I want for myself not lining up actions that get me closer to them, to how I handle relationships of my own. I guess me and the white walking-man from the traffic lights are just trying to fit in, sending out mixed signals in a world where they're everywhere you look.

Sam was a guppy, with an urge to be free.

2008-12-27T14:52:00.003-05:00

Found in Queens.

2008-12-11T01:35:00.012-05:00

Some people see Jesus in their cheese danish.

2008-12-01T01:07:00.006-05:00

Others se the devil in a box of apples.

You gotta fight. For your right. To Democratic Party.

2008-11-14T18:30:00.009-05:00

So by now you may have heard Obama won. ( The large screen here in Times Square may have given it away.) I'm happy to say I voted for him. But not without a bit of a fight.

I went to my polling center and waited in line for about two hours. (I was psyched the lines were that long.) When I got to the head of the line, they told me my name wasn't in "the book," so I couldn't vote. I could vote absentee if I wanted, but that was it.

I had with me my letter from the Board of Elections saying I was indeed registered and was at the correct polling station. That didn't seem to matter. If I wasn't in "the book," I wasn't voting they said.This all powerful book seemed to take precedence over an official letter from the Board of Elections. How do we know a page of this book didn't get ripped out, on purpose or by accident. Maybe someone spilled their mocha latte all over the page with my name. Who knows.

After a prolonged and heated conversation, where they admitted it wasn't fair my name wasn't on the polling station's voter's list, I agreed to just fill out the absentee ballot. As I sat in the corner filling out the paper, something inside me cringed. After enduring the last eight political years, I wanted to PULL A LEVER damn it. Even though I knew New York would go to Obama, I wanted to PULL A LEVER. I wanted to take some sort of ACTION, no matter how small. I wanted my voice heard that day, not by mail. I ripped up the ballot mailer and marched back to the voting line. I'll admit it, I did a bit of grandstanding. I eloquently, and loudly, explained I have a RIGHT to vote on the MACHINE. Finally, they called the head of the Board of Elections for my district.

I got on the phone with him, he looked up my name, then asked "Did they check the supplemental voter's list?" Turns out the polling station guys didn't even know there was such a thing. Sure enough, my name, along with hundreds of others, was in that book. I got to pull my lever after all. But, how many people were turned away before I alerted them to the list? If that was happening in the Lower East Side of NYC, what kind of voter turn-aways were taking place across the country? What kind of people, who may have been less aggressive than I, were handed absentee ballot slips. And how many of those even filled them out and mailed them? It seems we should have a better system now that we're in the 21st century.

The rest of my voting day was filled not only with anticipation, but also with art. I had gone to an exhibit a few hours before Obama was elected. Half the room was red, the other blue. Two giant flat screen TVs stood in the middle, with CNN playing to the blue side and FOX to the red. I liked how both sides were forced to face each other for them to watch their broadcast. (Although I think my friend Seth, who I went with, was the only McCain supporter there.)

The walls around the gallery were lined with portraits off all the presidents of the United States. Directly to the right of George W. Bush's portrait was one of Obama. It was on the floor, leaning against the wall, with a hook above it. Waiting. There was no portrait of McCain ready to go.

Another nice touch was a soda machine turned voting machine. It was blue for Pepsi, red for Coke. All were free, all you had to do was vote.

I watched the results at Syrup, a design house here in NYC that had a huge party. I cried when it was announced Obama won. There were lots of hugs around the room. The streets were filled with strangers embracing each other, horns honking, and shouts of "yes we can." Even if Obama does nothing, he's already done more good than Bush has done in his whole life.

Turned my previous post into a comic strip.

2008-10-21T02:31:00.002-04:00

Fast on the track. Slow on the post

2008-10-19T15:50:00.003-04:00

Months ago, I went go-karting in Los Angeles. I just now uploaded the pictures off my camera phone.

I had gone on (what I had thought was) go-karting trips before. It turned out those were pansy-ass maneuvers in cars that could only reach 15mph max, and were ultimately controled by the operators remotely should you try to bump people.

This was a different story. These went up to 45mpx, were gas-fueled, and you had to wear helmets and gear. I can't believe I didn't get any pictures of the cars. But, you can see all about where we went at dromo1.com.

The only thing that got my butt in gear (no pun intended) to finally get these pics up was my friend Joe's visit to NYC (next post). I did this whole karting trip with him when I was visiting LA. I can't believe he got to NYC before I even posted these.

This bottom pic isn't blurry, it's me still vibrating from the ride.

Confessions of a stay at home tourist.

2008-10-18T18:28:00.021-04:00

If there are no pictures or videos in this post, blame Joe, since they are all trapped inside his camera.

Last week, my good friend Joe came to visit from Los Angeles. It was his first time in New York City, and I took a couple of days off to play tour guide. I wound up having a great vacation of my own. Even though I'm from NYC, there are activities here I have never done, and probably never would have, had I not been showing an out-of-town-er around.

I was surprised how many NYC facts elude me. For instance, I still get my bridges mixed up (Joe, I hope I pointed out the right ones along the way), and there are buildings, even iconic ones, which I don't know the backgrounds of. With that said, our adventures went a little like this...

Saturday:

We went to check out Banksy's new exhibit in the West Village. It's a "pet shop" of sorts, but I highly recommend exploring this link (opens in new window) to get a good idea of what it was all about. I had a great conversation with the "shopkeeper." I asked if he was an actor. He told me he wasn't, and that he simply answered an ad for help wanted at a pet store. When he showed up, he was greeted with, well, you'll see when you click. I was curious if he had started to grow into his "role," and start messing with people's heads a bit. I was happy to hear he had.

Next, we walked around the last of the cobblestone streets of the West Village, and stopped in for some Mediterranean pizzas at Moustache. We made our way up to the MOMA, and charmed our way in to the sold-out Van Gogh exhibit. Although I don't know how much more modern you can get, in terms of art, than Banksy's Pet Shop from earlier in the day.

All the walking around the museum was tiring, so we took a rest on the Great Lawn of Central Park, checking out the crazy roller skaters along the way. Some Red Bulls helped us get to the top Rockefeller Center for an incredible view of the city at sunset. More Red Bulls (now with Vodka) and then off Wo-Hop in Chinatown for dinner before hitting a club, where our charm reemerged to get us in at a discount.

Sunday

My buddy, Ilya, lent Joe a bike and we rode through three boroughs in one day. We went across the Williamsburg Bridge and back, then up to the Queensboro (59th Street Bridge). We passed by the U.N. along the way, and took in Mies Van Der Rohe's Seagrams Building. Once we crossed the bridge into in Queens, we got some drinks at an outdoor bar and wobbled our bikes over to the waterside park for incredible views of Manhattan. We finished up at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater for the longest running improv show in the country (world?)

Monday

Highlight of the night came after some Sushi in the East Village, when Joe got up on stage at Rock and Roll Karaoke at Arlene's Grocery and sang U2's Sunday Bloody Sunday with a live band to back him. The Lower East Side hipster crowd went wild.

Tuesday

His last day here. Not too much time before his flight out, so we just rode bikes down to the South Street Seaport.

If you ever want to have someone visit you, invite Joe over. He's fun.

Sara Palin has made me rethink my entire world view.

2008-10-05T04:29:00.009-04:00

Sara Palin is a self-professed creationist, believing Man and dinosaurs walked the Earth together.

I think she's right. Look at her running mate.

Neon imititaing life.

2008-10-04T04:32:00.013-04:00

Caught this a couple of blocks from my apartment,
just a few days after the bank's collapse.

Planning ahead.

2008-09-30T01:29:00.007-04:00

This may sound weird, but I find it very helpful...

Once a month, I eat cat food as one of my daily meals. Dry cat food, so it's not all that gross, and for breakfast, so I just pretend it's cereal.

This way, when I retire and that's all I can afford to eat, I will have already cultivated a taste for it and it'll be less of a shock. Eventually, I hope to ween myself off cat food altogether, and onto dirt. Even cheaper.

The financial state of this country is terrifying. While I know my retirement savings is to be considered over the long term, it's staggering how much money I have lost in light of what the CEOs of these irresponsibly run companies walk away with. And now I'll have to throw even more of my money into the kitty (pun intended) through my taxes, as we bail out our financial institutions.

My larger fear is nothing will be learned from this, as everyday Americans don't want the details broken down for them in the news. They seem to only get riled up when poked with the fear stick of gays who want to marry and Mexicans who want their jobs.

On that last note, it's not the Mexicans who are taking our jobs, it's robots. And once the robots have taken all our jobs, Mexican robots will take theirs. Adios.

How Facebook brought me and Howard Stern back together.

2008-09-09T16:42:00.034-04:00

I recently joined Facebook.

I'd been hanging out at Friendster (over on the empty side of the internet), minding my own business, when the wave of 30-somethings who've begun infiltrating Facebook's social networking site swept me onto the shores of the 21st century.

I've been catching up with long lost friends I thought I'd never talk to again. I've also had a couple of surprises from people who've "friend-ed" me. One of these was from a guy named Dan Blatt.

Dan and I went to University of Buffalo together, though we didn't know each other well. At some point, I mentioned I had been a guest on the Howard Stern show...Okay, let me explain that one:

Before I went to U.B, I had to bring my abysmal grades from high school up by going to Nassau Community College. I wanted to work at a college radio station ever since I was in the 10th grade, so I jumped at the chance to work at WHPC (We Help People Communicate), the community college's poorly acronym-ed radio station. Shortly after I arrived, they changed the format to an EZ listening station. I also received a letter in the mail telling me things I could not discuss on the air.

To me, this was the antithesis of college radio - music which did not represent the sensibilities of the students, and a clamping down on open expression. I was removed from the station after reading the letter on the air. Shortly after, some other students and I formed a protest against the station. Howard caught wind of this, and invited me on to the show to try and get the word out. What followed was a 20-minute public humiliation.

So, this Dan Blatt guy contacts me via Facebook. He explains he is a HUGE Stern fan, and has archived practically all of his shows. A few hours later, digital audio files of me on the show arrive in my inbox. Incredible. Facebook made it possible for me to get a copy of what I thought I had lost forever. Somewhere, a friend had a cassette tape of it, but he couldn't find it. Even if he could, where the hell would we play a cassette tape?

Even though it was at my expense, I think his take on things was pretty funny, and in retrospect, pretty smart. As I recall, when they went to commercial at the end of our segment, he explained that if he agreed with me on the air, there would be no show. So in a way, he really helped. We had a good showing at the protest, and the school administration made concessions we were happy with.

What follows, in three parts, is my 1989 guest spot on the Howard Stern Show. Keep in mind, I was only 19, and he didn't give me much opportunity to talk. Even though I didn't get to say much, he had me pretty pegged; I still think the world revolves around me. But, I did my best, hoping the whole time that my mom wouldn't pick up the other line to yell at me for being on the phone so long.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

My 100th post. Let's pause for a commercial break.

2008-08-26T22:09:00.033-04:00

Welcome to my 100th post. Enjoy your stay.

So, this copywriter (nice guy actually) named Jeff Kerrin sent his work over to R/GA. One of our Creative Directors looked at it, and then asked me if I had ever been an actor. I told him I hadn't, but that I've been performing improv comedy for years.

"Hmmmm," he says, "because this guy's got some commercials on his reel, and it looks like you're in 'em." I figured he just thought all short bald guys look alike. Then I took a look at his portfolio online. The guy in the video certainly looked like me. He even sounded like me. Wait, it was me.

I had done these eight years ago. How could I not remember being in a commercial? Because I wasn't. These spots (spec spots, obviously) were made from my audition tapes. Back in San Francisco, there was a commercial audition for improvisors. I got there and was told to act like the worst computer salesperson ever. More specifically, a computer salesperson who knows nothing at all about computers.

The idea is supposed to be before you buy a computer, you should get information from those who are unbiased and knowledgeable about them - CNET. I'm a bit surprised he put these in his portfolio, since the production quality isn't very good. (Although you can't expect good lighting and sound from an audition set.) I asked him about his choice to include them (I called the number on his resume), and he said he felt the performances were good, so he included them with his work.

What are the chances he'd send these to the agency I work at? Maybe not all that slim, as our industry is pretty small. So, if you happen to be in our small little industry, and need a copywriter, check this guy out.

$200 salads and the end of the world.

2008-08-25T16:50:00.013-04:00

A co-worker was complaining about how one of his projects was trudging along at a glacial speed. I pointed out due to global warming, that's really not all that slow.

All we need are a few more melting glaciers to cause frozen crops, and another round or two of dead bees, and soon we'll have wars being fought over the scarcity of food, not oil.

In this future, cafeteria food fights will be illegal. Salads will be given as expensive wedding gifts. And our government will tell us the war isn't about zucchinis, but about protecting our freedom.

Bon appetite.

Control Zzzzzz

2008-08-17T14:27:00.017-04:00

I saw Yaz, one of my favorite 80's bands, a few weeks ago in concert. If you want to see what the show was like. Do this:

1. Grab a laptop
2. Stand in front of a mirror.
3. Press any one key over and over and over again.
4. Never smile.

If you want to see what yours truly was like during the concert, stand in front of same said mirror, and yawn.

In other 80's news, my friend gave me a call and told me he had like 20 free last minute tickets to see George Michael in concert. He got them because he's connected with a bartender at one of the bars inside Penn station (below Madison Square Garden). Whenever a show doesn't see out, they throw a bunch of tix his way. Though I wouldn't have bought tickets on my own, I have to say, he was pretty amazing. And the light/video show was hands down one of the best I have ever seen.

Speaking of 80's, the first concert I ever saw was Thompson Twins, with OMD opening. What was yours? Reply in the comments section if you're reading this.

A New York treat.

2008-08-10T00:46:00.011-04:00

For three Saturdays in August (yesterday being one of them) Park Avenue becomes closed to ALL cars. Only bicyclists, rollerbladers, skateboarders, pedestrians, etc, are allowed on the road, BOTH WAYS from 72nd street all the way down to City Hall.

It was so much fun, and a little surreal, seeing a usually busy street free of traffic. There was a stretch in Midtown lined with closed stores and empty buildings (being Saturday in the business district). For a moment, it was easy to pretend everyone had disappeared, and us bicyclists were the only remaining ones on the island. Kind of like that scene in Vanilla Sky where Times Square is empty. Or that horrible Will Smith movie, Legend, where he's the only one in Manhattan. (By the way Will Smith, if you're reading this, you owe me 10 bucks and two hours of my life back. A shit script is one thing, but no 3rd act?)

Anyway, it was one of those special NYC events where adults become kids, and strangers laugh along with each other. Like being out in the city during a blackout.

Everyone screamed as we rode through the Park Avenue tunnel to hear their echo. It was nice to hear so many New Yorkers yelling without any cursing being involved.

Some of the cool parts were: Going up and touching statues you normally can't due to traffic surrounding them. Taking pictures from vantage points like this one, in front of Grand Central Station, which is pretty hard to do any other time. And being able to inspect the sides within the Park Avenue tunnel, and see all the odd fixtures lining its walls. It was a whole new side of the city, and it made me look at my home in a new way. I felt like a tourist, in a refreshing way, taking pictures and marveling at the sites.

A funny thing I heard: A pedestrian trying to cross the street as a slew of bikes whizzed past him. "Fuck, this is worse than when there's cars."

Ahhhhhhh!

2008-08-07T19:53:00.002-04:00

Are Liz Taylor and the Joker the same person?

(click pic to enlarge)

"Is it just me, or is it hot in here?" I said as I melted.

2008-07-30T02:07:00.001-04:00

I was just thinking about an indian sweat lodge I went to in Passedena, before I moved back from LA. This might help If you're not familiar with what one is. And this takes you to the woman's site who organized our lodge.)

It was an eye-opening experience. It was a sensory deprivation, mixed with intense heat, combined with very little room to move. I really wasn't sure if I could make it through the entire ritual. I had a flashing glimpse of a future where our dead bodies are found all piled up inside the tent with the whole thing being written off as some Jonestown suicide pact.

It's funny, right before we arrived at the lodge, my friend Sean was commenting on how annoying it is that I tend to make things all about me. (He's right, and I'm trying to break that pattern.) Okay, now back to me. At one point, I felt like I just couldn't take it anymore and I would have to exit the lodge. Doing this would have disrupted the spiritual ritual of the other 12-15 people in there, and would have certainly drawn attention away from the journey, and on to me. That thought helped me stay put while I endured the, what must have been, triple-digit temperature.

The shaman who led the quest said she had the energy to receive an indian spirit name for only one of us inside the lodge. I was the one who would be receiving the honor. So, at one point, she asks me "Are you ready to accept your spirit name?" "Yes," I said. Then, in a solemn voice she tells me the spirits have named me Dream Beaver.

"Excuse me, Dream What?"

The solemn voice repeats, "Dream Beaver."

So there you have it. I'm a Dream Beaver, which I was told, means I'm a builder of dreams. But beavers also make dams to block stuff out too, don't they?

Pow! Bam! Whack!

2008-07-26T01:57:00.001-04:00

I recently saw Batman, The Dark Knight. I thought it was incredible. Terrific art direction and performances. I also think there's a metaphor for America within the script. It asks, "how long can you be a hero until you become the villain?" Hmmm.

And in Christian's defense, his mom's a real asshole.

Some time in LA.

2008-07-25T04:17:00.001-04:00

I recently went back to LA to direct a couple of Nike shoots. It was a great trip, beginning to end. Not just because I had the opportunity to work with talented athletes like Serena Williams and Shawne Merriman, but because I got to spend some time with friends I hadn’t seen in awhile as well.

I’ve been reading a lot on separating one’s self from the ego; how easy it is to attach our sense of self to our possessions, to our points of view, and to our likes and dislikes. I (or my ego, which perceives itself as “I”) have done this with the cities I've lived in too; certainly with L.A. I still feel very attached to this place, and my old friends. But look, I made a new one! Serena.

She was great to work with; fun, smart, and able to deliver what was needed on cue. At one point, we were checking something on my MacBook, and I asked if she was a Mac or PC person. Without missing a beat she answered "HP." I forgot she was one of their spokespeople. Her agent, hovering nearby, couldn't have been happier. I think they both get a cut each time she says those two letters.

Merriman was great too. We asked him to step outside his normal football comfort-zone, and try his hand at some comedy. It's always tough when non-actors make these attempts, but he got it. He has a great personality, and was willing to be a little self-deprecating on camera. Kudos to him.

Okay, I'm a big time director now. So I have no more time to talk to you. Goodbye.

Did I kill Estelle Getty?

2008-07-24T03:05:00.001-04:00

Just yesterday, I asked a co-worker if any of the Golden Girls were dead yet. One of them must be, I thought.

Two days later, Estelle (Sophia as the Golden Gals called her) died. Fucked up!

The reason I think I may have special powers is that this has happened before.

Speaking of Golden Girls, I have a project planned where I take a Golden Girls episode, and dub in the dialog from Sex in the City. It's really the same show.

SLUT:
Sex in the City = Samantha
Golden Girls = Blanche

INNOCENT ONE:
Sex in the City = Charlotte
Golden Girls = Rose

THE NON-SEXUALIZED CRANKY ONE:
Sex in the City = Miranda
Golden Girls = Sophia

WOMAN WITH A MAN FACE:
Sex in the City = Carrie
Golden Girls = Dorothy

Stay tuned.

A New York first.

2008-05-22T00:55:00.000-04:00

I've lived in New York City most of my adult life. The other day, I experienced a first, on two levels. It was the first time I was the first passenger to be in the cab I got into.

My friend Nic and I were on our way to the Guggenheim to see the Cai Guo-Qiang exhibit. We hopped into a taxi, and this must have been the cleanest place I have ever been in New York City. Or anywhere.

When I commented on the pristine condition of the backseat, the driver told us we were the very first ones to be inside. I tired to get a pic of the odometer, but it was tough. It read 40 miles, and it was 40 miles from the taxi yard to our pick up.

Since we shared such a special ride together, I snapped his pic of the driver. By the way, the exhibit was great. This was my favorite piece. It's an important reminder to not always blindly follow the leader.

Oh, did I forget to mention I moved back to New York?

2008-05-13T01:23:00.001-04:00

Yep. I moved back to NYC a few days ago to start my new job as an Associate Creative Director at R/GA on the Nike account. It's great to be back home.

Even though I've only been gone less than two years, I feel like Rip Van Winkle. It's as if I've been asleep for a century, and while snoozing, prices rose accordingly:

Honest tea in LA - 99¢
In midtown - $2.95

Tom's of Maine Deodorant in LA - $4.99
In East Village - $6.99

My rent in LA - $1,810 (with pool, jacuzzi, and gym). In East Village or Chelsea - Well, one broker said "come on, what do you expect for $2,300 a month?" as I gawked at a room no wider than a queen-sized bed on the 5th floor of a walk-up. But, here in New York, angry glares are free. So, it's got that going for it.

By the way, I wanted to see how much Tom's of Maine deodorant cost at Amazon.com. I see they have used and new. Who's buying all the used deodorant?

I miss a lot of things about Los Angeles already, like the weather. I guess you really don't really appreciate some things until they're gone.

For instance, New York City cab drivers engaging you in conversation. I used to hate drivers talking to me when I was trying to get some peace and quiet. Today, if the driver's talking, it's probably to someone else on the other end of his cell phone. Now I have to listen to one half of HIS conversation, in whatever native language he's speaking, or making up. Hey, I want my meaningless discussions back! With the price of rides being what they, I should be entitled to one.

Yes, prices are definitely higher here now. But, it's good to know somethings remain constant - like the Peruvian singer guy who's still singing that same never-ending song on the subway.

April is Collin McNamee Day.

2008-04-30T03:27:00.000-04:00

The other day, my friend Collin McNamee, pointed out that I've NEVER entered a blog posting in ANY of the months of April. At first, I was honored someone would delve so deeply into my ramblings as to notice such a thing. Soon though, my pride turned to shame; posting so sporadically was no way to treat such loyal readers.

In recognition of trying to get me and my blog back on track, I hereby proclaim every April as Collin McNamee Day! Collin, I'll present you with a proclamation and the Key to the Blogosphere next time I see you.

Let's learn more about Collin: He was with me when I popped my Disneyland Cherry. Here he is sitting next to me on Space Mountain (that's our buddy Sean behind him). That's right, cynical ol' Jeff went to Disneyland; I figured I should check it out before moving out of SoCal. And you know what? It's the fucking happiest place on Earth. I didn't fret about our diminishing economy and culture one time during the whole day!

As you may know, the park is laid out in different sections: FrontierLand, FantasyLand, AdventureLand, etc. One keen observation Collin made was the only place we couldn't get cell reception was in TomorrowLand. We were dropping calls well into the next millennia.

Of course, there were thousands of children there, but one particular kid stood out to me. This one had his name and phone number written on a square piece of paper and taped (heavily) onto his back. Sure, I guess this is a way to help prevent your child getting lost. But to me, it just seems like a pedophile's wet dream. Now he's got your kid's name AND number. (Billy, call me.)

In all seriousness, thanks Collin for being so supportive of my writing, and for the book you gave me to jot down my thoughts. Hopefully, I won't have to dedicate May to someone else just to get my ass in gear.

Immaculate Infection.

2008-03-31T13:41:00.001-04:00

About a week ago, I started experiencing incredible pain when taking a piss. (going wee wee, for our more sensitive readers). The feeling was a unique blend of passing broken glass and fire.

I went to the doctor, thinking it might be an STD of some sort, which would have been weird since I haven't been getting any lately. Turns out it's an urethral infection, the celibacy-transmitted kind apparently.

Another odd, though slightly less painful sensation, was this being the first time my doctor was younger than me. I imagine I'll have many years to get used to this.

Irony and Defeat

2008-03-11T03:36:00.000-04:00

My friend was telling me how the Anthony Robbins self-help CD's made a real positive difference in his life. It's a multi-disc set, but he burned one particular disc for me, thinking I could get a lot of use out of it.

I figured it would be a good thing to listen to in the car. Turns out, my car's CD player can't play writable discs, and kept rejecting it.

Which disc did my stereo keep rejecting? - Overcoming Fear of Rejection. I shit you not.

When did I become old?

2008-03-07T12:46:00.001-05:00

Yaz, the 80's British pop group created by the founder of Depeche Mode and Erasure, are reuniting after 25 years and will play a few shows in America. I was psyched to get tickets for their LA performance, since they used to be on my record player all the time.

I asked one of my younger co-workers if she had heard the news about Yaz, and she said "Yaz? You mean the birth control pill?"

Yes, I'm going to see the birth control pill in concert.

Who says women can't do the same job as men?

2008-02-01T13:25:00.007-05:00

Hey, we went dutch on the popcorn shrimp!

2007-12-27T07:33:00.000-05:00

I recently read a news story about a young man accused of date-rape. He was convicted. Good. But I don't get it. Why didn't he just say they weren't on a date? That's what I'd do.

"Your Honor, that was NOT a date. We were just "hanging out." If it had been a date, I would have taken her someplace nicer that TGI Fridays.

JUDGE: That's commendable, but according to her, that was your third date.

"No. The first time we hung out, we went to the mall, and I was going there anyway. Not a date. The second time, we went to the movies, but with seven other people. Not a date. And the last time we got together, it was so she could help with my website."

JUDGE: Not a date. Case dismissed.

Simple.

Held up at badge-point.

2007-12-02T14:27:00.002-05:00

Airport security agents are doing nothing more than robbing us blind. Snatching our shaving creams, lotions, and moisturizers. All that's missing is a firm "put your hands up!" Oh, wait, they do say that, if you're lucky enough to get waved by one of their magic wands. It's as if every kleptomaniac in the country had been given a uniform and told to report for work.

I'm for airline safety as much as the next guy, but it's not our planes that are being hijacked, it's our dignity and toiletries. Why nothing more than 3 ounces? Do explosive or combustible liquids only come in 3.1 ounce jars and up? Think of the waste! There must be landfills piled high with hand cream, cologne, and KY jelly. Here's an exchange I had a few months ago when flying home to LA from Ft. Lauderdale:

A TSA agent approached me and said, "Sorry sir, you can't bring this on board." The biological danger he was referring to was my St. Ives apricot facial scrub. Maybe he thought my plan was to exfoliate the entire plane to death.

"Don't you watch the news?" he continued. "No, I read the news," I replied. I then explained there had been conflicting reports over the easing of flying restrictions, and that I had flown in from Los Angeles with the very same container. The guard countered, "Well, I don't know how they do things in Los Angeles, but you can't fly with it out of here." "Exactly," I said. "You don't know how they do things in Los Angeles. That's the problem. If this is a federal rule, then it should be consistent amongst all airports. If it's not, then it's a joke."

"Are you calling airline security a joke sir? Because if you are, we'll get the Head of Security down here and HE can decide whether you can fly today or not." I'll go you one further," I said. "It's not only a joke, but it puts us in even greater danger. What you're doing here, sir, is theater. You are putting on a show. You're making it 'seem' as if there's a system in place to keep us safe. That's dangerous. It lulls people into a false sense of security. A false sense of security keeps people less vigilant and less prepared. Just like we were on September 10th.

"Don't call security a joke, sir." (Apparently, he was still stuck on that.) I replied, "but you know it's a joke. I know it's a joke. The woman behind me taking off her Easy Spirits knows it's a joke. Even my apricot facial scrub knows it's a joke. We all know it's a joke"

Some applauded. Others just threw sour faces at me. The head of Security came. I no longer called their efforts a joke. Instead, as I grabbed my bags, I told the guard he should be ashamed of himself for participating in such silly efforts during such serious times.

"Why put up a fuss?" you might ask. I guess, in the back of my mind, I thought if we all put up a fuss, something would be done. My rational side knows that's not going to happen. Maybe I wasn't really angry with the security rules that day at all. Perhaps I lashed out because I felt emasculated. I mean, the only thing more emasculating than carrying apricot facial scrub around is having another man take it away.

Trade offs.

2007-11-11T05:28:00.001-05:00

I had someone in New York who loved me, and who I loved. And now I have things. And I have Los Angeles. Beware of things and Los Angeles.

Florida

2007-09-06T04:45:00.000-04:00

I recently went down to Florida for my father's 75th birthday. While it was great to see my family, they drive me crazy. In all fairness, I drive them crazy too. But in Florida, there's never a dry crazy. Or a breezy crazy. It's just one long hot and humid crazy.

I find each time I go down there, I stay a little less than the time before. 4 day visits gave way to 3.5 day ones. Then I was down to 3 days flat. This last visit was 2.5 days. I expect, eventually, I'll just meet them on the tarmac, wave, and get back on the plane.

Ahhh, family visits. Smothered with attention, unable to lash out. Trapped in Florida. I know how this gator feels.

Happy birthday Dad. For real.

Stockholm, USA

2007-09-02T02:50:00.000-04:00

Stockholm Syndrome: a psychological response sometimes seen in an abducted hostage, in which the hostage shows signs of loyalty to the hostage-taker, regardless of the danger (or at least risk) in which the hostage has been placed. A famous supposed sufferer of Stockholm Syndrome was millionaire heiress Patty Hearst. After two months in captivity, she donned an automatic weapon and actively took part in a bank robbery orchestrated by her abductors.

I personally believe the United States government was complicit in, if not directly behind, the September 11th attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon. Yes, yes, I know. I sound like some looney toon conspiracy theorist. But let's put all that aside for the moment and take a look at some undisputed activities our government has been involved in:

The outing of America's CIA operatives.

Completely ignoring both the warnings, and the destruction, of hurricane Katrina - leaving dead bodies floating in the streets of New Orleans for days.

Engagement in warrantless surveillance of our own citizens.

Removal of judges who don't fall in line with the Executive Branch's views.

Using our tax dollars to fuel the occupation of Iraq, a once sovereign nation, while our schools and bridges are literally falling apart.

Not providing adequate armor for our soldiers who've been sent to occupy Iraq.

And, most likely, the hijacking of at least one election.

So, even if you don't agree our government allowed 9/11 to happen, it's clear they have placed our citizenry in danger. Not only that, but we're paying for the privilege when we pay our taxes. Where is our money going? It certainly didn't go towards protecting NYC, DC, New Orleans, or even our soldiers. It appears our tax dollars are going to fuel an agenda diametrically opposed to what would make us a safe and strong country. You might go as far as to say they're holding us, or at least our money, hostage.

I used to be surprised when I heard other Americans making excuses for our government's behavior. I was astonished I didn't hear more voices of resistance from my fellow citizens. But now I see America must be suffering from a certain psychological trauma. One in which they've developed a loyalty towards their oppressors, and developed a bond with the very institution doing them harm. One could argue, by fueling this administration with their tax dollars, Americans have become willing participants in the crimes committed against themselves. It all smacks of a psychological sickness. One called Stockholm Syndrome.

Can you find him? (click to enlarge)

2007-08-22T13:46:00.001-04:00

(Which is more offensive - using the events of 9/11 to make a joke, or using it as a pretext to create a war-for-profit, and circumvent our civil liberties? Choose what you're offended by wisely.)

Turned 37.

2007-07-08T00:38:00.000-04:00

Went to Vegas with my friend Nic. He came out from NYC for my birthday (July 3rd). Vegas was 116 degrees one of the days were were there. So, we spent much of the time indoors. Here's a brief summary of the trip.

Lost.
Lost.
Won.
Won.
Lost.
Lost.
Lost a lot.
Saw the Cirque De Soleil "O" show.
Won.
Won.
Lost more than I won.
Cooled off in the pool.

Overall, a great trip.

Please don't watch this if you work for Child Protective Services

2007-06-09T04:41:00.000-04:00

Here's the latest episode of Baby in Danger, my friend, Ryan Iverson's, web series. Yep, that's his real baby. I wonder how many he can make before someone comes for his little bundle of comedy joy.

Two Pronged Plug:

2007-06-09T00:08:00.000-04:00

Saturday the 9th, I'll be a part of two comedy shows in Hollywood.

For most of the day, I'll be writing for The Upright Citizens Brigade Theater's monthly Sketch Cram show. It's a sketch show written and produced all in one day. This will be my second time writing for the L.A. version of the show. I had a terrific time writing for it last time, and am psyched to be a part of it again. Come check it out - midnight - at The UCB Theater. Here's a link to show details/reservations.

While we spend all day writing the Cram show, I'll be taking a break at 9:30 to head on over to The Second City Theater for a performance with The Engagement Party, the improv group I recently joined. We're opening for Second City Alumni group, Edmund Serves Coffee. Here's the blurb you'd find if you visited secondcity.com to learn more. See, I do all the hard web surfing for you:

9:30pm: Edmund Serves Coffee: An Alumni Invitational
Each week, Alumni from Second City’s resident companies in Chicago, Cleveland, Denver, Detroit, Las Vegas, and Toronto improvise onstage together. With opening act The Engagement Party performing from 9:30-9:55. $10 at the door, call (323)464-8542 for advanced tickets .

Pick a card.

2007-06-08T13:51:00.000-04:00

I got locked out of my apartment the other day. After seeing it done in movies, I tried to open the door by sliding a credit card between the latch and the door jamb. It didn't work.

I soon realized why; I was using a Discover Card. Those things don't work anywhere.

A piece of my childhood, found on YouTube. Watch it while you can.

2007-05-30T04:29:00.000-04:00

This was produced a few years before I was born, but I had seen it on television a few times in my early youth. It left quite an impression on me. I looked for it from time to time on YouTube, but it was never there. It seems someone posted it there almost 6 months ago. I hope it doesn't get taken down. It's beautifully and artfully executed. Enjoy.

Race relations.

2007-05-30T04:16:00.001-04:00

Hoax alert.

2007-05-29T04:10:00.000-04:00

The Mars landing was filmed on the Moon.

Okay, this is getting ridiculous.

2007-05-28T16:23:00.000-04:00

I've put a couple of posts up before about my growing collection of people with psuedo-sexual surnames oddly linked to their professions. Well, I've found another one to put up on the mantle.

60 Minutes recently ran a piece about the determiners of sexual orientation. One of the research doctors they profiled was able to grow "gay" rats by altering their hormone levels while they were still underdeveloped. And what was the name of the doctor breeding rats that like to engage in same-sex activities?

- drum roll please -

Doctor Breedlove. (see for yourself - link)

It's as if that great scriptwriter in the sky is just phoning it in when it comes to naming characters in this short story of his.

Here are links to the other items in this collection:

one

two

Call your mom.

2007-05-13T03:58:00.000-04:00

Happy Mother's Day.

Cool video passed my way #3 - Stevie Wonder

2007-05-10T13:17:00.000-04:00

Cool video passed my way #2 - James Brown, Michael Jackson, Prince

2007-05-10T13:00:00.000-04:00

Cool video passed my way #1 - David Blaine(?)

2007-05-10T12:28:00.000-04:00

My latest pictures, and...

2007-05-09T03:22:00.001-04:00

So, I haven't written for awhile. That means many of you may have forgotten what I look like. I figured it was time to post a new pic. Rather than go to Sears, I chose to have my portrait taken by one of those 1984 Big-Brother-is-Watching-You traffic cameras that catches people running red lights. This lovely snapshot cost me $382 in traffic fines, plus enrollment in traffic school if I want to keep a point off my license. I think it was worth it. I mean, come on, I look like a bad-ass in this picture. That robot camera really captured my true essence.

I plan on using this red-light-cam picture as my headshot when I audition this weekend for an Upright Citizens Brigade improv house team. Wish me luck. No seriously, if you are reading this before Saturday, hit the comment link below and leave me some good luck. I doubt anyone's even reading this now as I've been pretty derelict in posting. But, I thought I'd put it out there.

Yeah, so I'm auditioning this weekend. I've been doing a lot of practice with improv, and feel I'm making some strides. Here's me playing at a show with a group called Engagement Party. It's made up of folks from Improv Olympic and Second City.

I also got recommended by The Upright Citizens Brigade Theater in NYC to write for their LA theater's Sketch Cram show. That's a sketch show that's written and produced all in one day. We had this show this past Saturday night and it went really well. I really enjoy writing for these under-the-gun shows. A forced deadline combined with some very talented writers (I was really in awe of the other talents involved with the show) make for not only a fun performance, but a kick-ass day of laughs while putting it together. I wrote two skecthes. One about a passive-aggressive GPS for your car. Below is an excerpt from the other sketch. It's based on a real exchange between me and my new therapist I'm seeing for my OCD issues. (I had to get rid of my last therapist after she told me to watch The Secret.) Okay, here it is. Wish me luck. Seriously.

THERAPIST
You know Josh, we all have two inner voices. A critical one, and a positive one. I think your critical voice is doing most of the talking.

PATIENT
How can I balance them out?

THERAPIST
First, let's name them. What's your positive voice's name?

PATIENT
I feel like an idiot doing this.

THERAPIST
You hear that? That's your critical voice. What's the name of your positive voice?

PATIENT
I don't know....The Coach.

THERAPIST
Coach. Excellent. And your critical voice's name?

PATIENT
Uhhh...The Abyss.

THERAPIST
Great. Now, every time your hear The Abyss talking, I want you to..

PATIENT
Can we stop a second? I'm not happy with the name I gave my critical voice.

THERAPIST
The name doesn't matter. You need to...

PATIENT
I know, but come on, "The Abyss?" that's awfully pretentious. I write bullshit advertising for a living.
I have no right to be walking around with some deep existential name for my critical voice.

THERAPIST
Do you see how you're being crit...

PATIENT
Yes, I get the irony. It's almost as funny as you calling our 45-minute sessions an hour.

THERAPIST
Very passive aggressive.

Useful tips.

2007-03-26T22:15:00.000-04:00

Enjoy.

On repressing fake memories.

2007-03-26T20:24:00.000-04:00

As is the case with most new places I work, somebody recently called me Jeffrey. I was quick to explain I prefer Jeff. Happily, that's as far as it went. I wasn't so lucky at the last place I worked. At that job, this guy called me Jeffrey, and continued to do so after I told him I really hated it. He figured the more he called me Jeffrey, the funnier it was.

One day, I took him aside and told him my uncle molested me when I was very young, that he used to call me Jeffrey, and being called that brings up a lot of painful memories so I'd be grateful if he stopped. He looked visibly disturbed, apologized, and never called me Jeffrey again.

My uncle never molested me. He never called me Jeffrey either. But from that moment on, whenever I was around this co-worker, I felt I had to take on the persona of a guy who had been molested by his uncle:

"How would a guy who was molested by his uncle use the water cooler?"

"How would a guy who was molested by his uncle complain about the time-sheet software?"

"How would a guy who was molested by his uncle steal shit out of the office refrigerator?"

It was tough keeping up this charade. I'm glad I have a new job.

Savor this moment of being a reader rather than a consumer.

2007-03-14T05:18:00.000-04:00

That is all.

Will somebody please give this guy a blowjob already so we can impeach him?

2007-03-13T13:52:00.000-04:00

The down-side of suicide.

2007-03-04T20:39:00.000-05:00

If things got really bad. And the whole universe was against you. And you only had one friend in the whole wide world. And you asked this friend to end it all with you by going into a suicide pact together. The worst thing you could hear would be:

"Sorry. I'm already in a suicide pact with someone else."

That would suck.

Where can you combine your love of soup with the nostalgia of slavery?

2007-02-11T16:13:00.000-05:00

Souplantation! - a chain of restaurants here on the west coast.

Why Souplantation? Why not Soupageddon? Or Soupocaust?

While I think it's a awful name for an eating establishment, I do recommend The Indentured Servitude Bisque.

...and I have looked over the mountain, and I have seen...wait, that's my car. Leave my car alone.

2007-01-15T13:00:00.000-05:00

My friend drove us out for lunch today and parked at a meter. Being Martin Luther King Day, a national holiday, we didn't feed the meter.

We returned to find a parking ticket on our car! On MLK Day!

Soon after, we came upon the parking enforcement officer who was giving out more tickets. We stopped and asked what was up with that? She turned around and we realized she was black! A black woman giving out parking tickets on MLK Day! We've come a long way haven't we?

– "Uh, how come you're giving out parking tickets? It's a national holiday today. There's no meter parking on national holidays."

– "It's not a national holiday sir."

- "Yes it is. It's MLK Day."

- "MLK Day is not a national holiday."

- (trying to mask my disbelief that I'm arguing with a black woman over whether MLK Day is a holiday) "Yes. Yes It is."

- "Well, not according to the Venice Beach Parking Department."

So, apparently, the Venice Beach local government can decide what's a national holiday and what isn't. They've also changed my birthday from July 3rd to March 12th. Don't fuck with these fellows, they are very powerful.

Happy Belated New Year!

2007-01-13T04:15:00.000-05:00

It's 2007!

I mean, it's been 2007!

I rang in the new year snowboarding outside of Vancouver. It was a great mountain, with views of the city below. I went with my buddy Jason and we both stayed with our friends Rob and Kerry who just moved to Vancouver.

If you're ever in Vancouver, and want to be treated like a king, I recommend staying with Rob and Kerry - the best hosts on either side of the border.

No reindeer in Austin, but they've got goats. And notes on the continuing decline of my standards.

2006-12-25T11:46:00.000-05:00

I was staying in a cabin outside Austin with my friend Nic and his family for Christmas. While walking through the woods, we saw a bunch of goats on their way to a Christmas party of some sort. Check it out:

And here's me with Nic and his mom and dad. If me and Nic's family were in a band, this is probably what one of our band photos would look like:

His family not only opened their home to me for the holidays, but got me some cool presents too. Amongst the goodies were gift cards for Chinese restaurant, P.F. Chang's, and Banana Republic. That's kind of funny because when I first moved here, these two chain establishments brought to mind how Los Angeles had kind of lowered my standards. On my first week at work in LA, one of my co-workers invited me out for Chinese food. I accepted, but changed my mind when I heard it was P.F. Chang's. As a New Yorker, I didn't consider P.F. Chang's real Chinese food any more than I considered Pizza Hut to be Italian food. After being called a snob, I broke down and went:

Week 1 in LA: P.F. Chang's is not Chinese food.
Week 2 in LA: P.F. Chang's is alright I guess if there's nothing else around.
Week 3 in LA: Wow, I could go for some P.F. Chang's.

And in NYC, I would never go to Banana Republic. There were too many cool thrift stores in the East Village to even bother. But out here, it's all too spread out and sunny to be bothered hunting for clothes. Banana Republic is easy. LA is all about easy. Little by little, my standards get lowered in exchange for easy. And my gift cards will make it all even more Los Angeles-ier, I mean easier. Wise-ass rants aside, I really will enjoy the gifts. Banana Republic does have cool socks, which I really need since all the ones I own have holes in them. And I've already become addicted to the Chicken Lettuce Cups at Chang's. Thanks Briseno family! (especially for the fancy kaleidescope Eddie and Harriett). Merry Christmas!

Let's meet our fellow flyers.

2006-12-24T21:00:00.000-05:00

I'm at the airport on my way to Austin, with my ticket in hand for the post-911 security sideshow. I've removed liquids and gels from my carry-on luggage. I've worn my good socks in preparation for taking off my shoes. I've severed al my ties to Al-Qaeda (except you Shakir, we've got something special, don't worry.)

But hey, what's this middle-eastern looking guy in front of me trying to check in?

Hmmmm.

Uhhhh.

TRIGGER SPRAY?

I don't know what the hell trigger spray is, but it sounds a hell of a lot more dangerous than all the body wash they've been confiscating.

So, who else is here at the airport? There's this guy getting his shoes shined. I found this guy to be quite an oddity. If you care enough about your appearance to get your boots shined, why would you wear them with white socks?

Holiday on Ice. (well, water)

2006-12-24T15:14:00.000-05:00

It sounded like a big party was brewing down the street. It grew louder and louder until it seemed too loud to be a party that could fit into any of the neighboring small houses.

I went to investigate and found a hundred or so people lining the canals to watch a Christmas parade along the waterways.

Leave it to LA to figure out how to have a parade without tying up traffic.

A Christmas story.

2006-12-24T03:33:00.000-05:00

Now that I'm in LA, there's a few things I miss about Christmas in New York. One is snow. Another is walking along streets lined with Christmas trees for sale.

A few years ago, I became fascinated by the Christmas tree vendors who descend upon NYC. For a little over a month every year, these guys leave their Canadian tree farms and LIVE in vans parked throughout Manhattan. It must be quite a culture shock.

I figured it'd be a good topic for a documentary. My plan was to capture the drama behind the scenes of country-folk trying to bring holiday cheer to millions of hardened New Yorkers. I also thought it was interesting how these trees play such an integral role in so many people's holidays, yet little is known about those who cultivate them. So, I set out to make my little movie happen.

Having been raised Jewish, I knew nothing about buying a Christmas tree. How much are they? Do they come in sizes and kinds? Do you tip the sales person? My first step was to research the buying process. That day, I visited the very next Christmas tree vendor I saw. I started asking the salesperson my questions. When I got personal, he got suspicious:

"Are you looking to buy a tree or not sir?"

"Well, to be honest, I'm thinking about doing a documentary on you Christmas-Tree-People."

"No fucking way! I'm not really a Christmas-Tree-Person. I'm a filmmaker working with these guys as research for a documentary!"

What are the chances this would be the first tree guy I ever approached in my life? I half expected all the customers to confess they were merely researching roles as extras in a shopping scene. So there we were. Me pretending to be a customer. Him pretending to be a sales guy. Only in New York. That's one of the other things I miss about Christmas in New York - there's just enough holiday spirit in the air for even the most jaded of urbanites to drop their defenses and realize what they have in common.

We bonded over our phoniness and agreed to try and work together. Alas, he had a baby and shelved his movie plan. I moved here to LA. And while I no longer get to see sidewalks lined with holiday trees, I do live on the Venice Canals amongst some beautifully decorated homes. However, this massive house down the street from me (see below) goes overboard every year.

They do something similar every Halloween too, complete with motion-sensor activated animatrons on the lawn:

You know inside this house there's a loveless marriage.

This being my first LA Christmas, what better place to spend it than in Texas? Yep, I'm off to hang out with my friend Nic and his family in a cabin outside of Austin. Happy holidays!