Wednesday, May 30, 2007

What Happens In Vegas, Stays... On My Blog...

Alternative Title: T.O. Does Not Like To Be Challenged To A Chicken-Fight In The Palms Pool

Man oh man...

My Vegas Bachelor party has come and gone... and I am almost back to normal. It was touch and go there for a few days. I felt like Lindsey Lohan's driving privileges... abused. However, my voice is finally back and my kidney and liver functions are fully restored. I am ready to type this out for you and let you into what happened...

3 of us hit the road for Vegas from Orange County... there is minimal traffic and we arrive at the Palms around 2:45-3:00pm. Right at that time, the East Coast squad arrives in full force to check in: Paul, Derek, Joey, HotMops, Sleepy, Aaron, Happy, Renaldo, Doc, Terrizzi, Ryan, Bubba, and Bashful... shortly thereafter a few more rolled in from various locales... however noticeably absent was The Gagger Himself, which is sad because he would have provided more stories than I could care to type out.
First stop up to the rooms, then everybody convened to the pool area. I am not a big "pool scene" guy, but wow... The Palms pool is the place to be during the day. We met our waitress Paris Hilton and buckets of beers began arriving.
The pool scene faded and the night began, as we made our way to Ghost Bar. Bravo to the Maloofs for combining 2 things I am not fond of... nightclubs and heights. However, the view was amazing and it was a great atmosphere. The drinking stopped around 3:30-4:00am for most I believe... not positive though.

Pool scene part deux... The group was at the pool starting around 10:30 and we were all there by about 11:45 I would say. Paris quickly found us and the buckets started early. Soon enough, Terrell Owens made an appearance and quickly turned into DJ T.O. for the next 2-3 hours.
I think Terrizzi was doing a story for Men's Health because he kept comparing his body size and Renaldo's to that of T.O.'s... as much as we all would like to look like that, it just isn't happening until one of us actually owns a gym.

The pool scene was nice though it took on what I would imagine a Roman Bath was like... i.e. Groups of people drinking alcohol for hours, yet apparently no one felt the need to leave the pool to go to the bathroom...
Eventually T.O. made his way into the pool. I assume now that he probably would like to be left alone... I assume that now. However, my friend thought it would be fun to challenge him to a Chicken-Fight. Immediately this struck me as the best idea I have ever heard in the history of ideas. My friend wisely decided to pass, however I could not let this idea drop... A random fellow heard and decided it was also a great idea. We ventured close to T.O., who much like a distant mountain, got bigger and bigger as we approached. I hopped on this gent's shoulders and proceeded to tap Terrell on the shoulder, he turned and I said "I challenge you to a Chicken-Fight!" He blew me off with a wave of his hand and turned around... I think his skinny posse member wanted to punch me, but luckily he looked to be all of 140 pounds thanks to the pool water weighing him down and he also blew me off... I think he was upset he didn't get to sit on T.O.'s shoulders.
The pool scene died down again as we were some of the last people to leave that afternoon. Everyone went upstairs to change and begin some table games.
Soon everyone was ready to begin our evening... at the Playboy Club. As I said earlier I am not a big fan of nightclubs, but this place was a m a z i n g. We had a private table in the back with our own bunny pouring our drinks. We had access to the 2 floor Moon club above us in addition to the Playboy Club.
Soon enough our table area was brimming with females thanks to the glorious efforts of my buddy... 3 separate times he ventured out and each time brought back multiple groups of women who enjoyed dancing with Terrizzi, as he trapped them against the wall (poor cocktail bunny...).
Eventually the group dispersed and Graeme and I headed to get a 5am cheese steak. Sounds good on paper, tastes bad in my mouth... not because it was a bad sandwich at all, but because it was a 5am cheese steak.
Back to the room and asleep by 5:45 or so...

Pool scene part III... again, it was busy but not quite as insane as the day before. Paris almost twisted an ankle sprinting to the group.

We drank more buckets, and then Terrizzi turned one into an army helmet and tried to swim laps. He also wanted to try and give TO some table gaming advice but I don't think that petered out. Hopefully he got enough info already for his article on him...
The day turned to night and, after a nice sushi dinner, a decision had to be made on where to go... Graeme talked to a gentleman with a suit and a nice phone that promptly informed us of the positive times resulting from the rental of a pool cabana for the evening. This man was wise beyond his years and Motorola Q phone.
At first, it was Graeme, myself, and 2 females that Graeme invited for the evening (not those kind of girls, he knows them from Orange County... wait that still doesn't sound good...).
You know you have a good spot when right next to your cabana, Chris "I need Rush Hour 3 money stat!" Tucker, Gabrielle "Holy Shit I Am Gorgeous" Union, and Baby"career?"Face are in the cabana next to you... for about 30 minutes. They left because the Palms has a zero mary-jah-wana policy which apparently they were not to fond of.
Soon enough the rest of the gang arrived and the place was jumping... right up until it seemed the closed a little early and no more bottles could be purchased.
The next move was to the new Scores strip club in Vegas... $30 to get in even for the ladies... great idea Scores. Apparently at 4-5am (don't really know) the C team is on stage... yikes...
We hung around for a little while but I knew it was time to leave when I walked past a door that swung open and it was sunny outside... not sunrise, full blown sun.
We went back to the hotel where Graeme got in bed with those 2 ladies.... and I got in bed with my buddy Brendon.

Sunday (praise Allah... finally time to go home)
Awake by 10:30 and out the door by 11am. I was pretty out of it, and didn't even checkout... I walked out.
Saw a few people in the lobby and gave a hug and a goodbye...
Got in the car, dropped Graeme off to get a ride home with his 2 new girlfriends, and Brendon and I hit the road home.

Smooth sailing - From Henderson, to Baker for lunch, to Corona to drop off Brendon, to my door in a little over 4 hours... no traffic at all... amazing.

Let's see... to sum up: It was awesome... I am sun burnt, my body is not quite back to normal, and I am broke... but it was amazing.
Thank you to all my friends who came and for all that they did. I am sorry I didn't say goodbye to everyone on my way out, but my body said it was time to go and I had to listen...
thanks again seriously...

Lets get the final Celeb count for the weekend: Adam Levine (lead singer of Maroon 5) played with Roulette with Bubba, J. Peterman from Seinfeld was at the Playboy club, Darryl from the Office (bumped into him 3 times, on the 2nd time I told him to quit following me, on the 3rd he told me I was stalking him and then he and Graeme discussed random shit... awesomely nice guy), Kendra from Laguna Beach (not really a celeb I guess), Chris Tucker, Gabrielle Union, Babyface, Paul Davis (not a celeb at all, just a Clippers Rookie, and a 6'10" white guy), and T.O. (who apparently prefers not to Chicken-Fight with pasty white guys while he is talking to women in the pool, mental note). If I am missing anybody please let me know...

I think I just got drunk from remembering all that...


Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Hollywood Needs To Find... The Glow....

The year... 1985

The movie... The Last Dragon (click here for the description)

This movie remains one of my favorites of all time, there I said it...

The current crop of movies coming out are either pure action with no story, total crap romantic comedy (aka ultra-sappy chick flick), or just recycled garbage to make the studios more money... with a few exceptions here and there of course.

As we speak there is talk of a Point Break 2 starring Patrick Swayze... apparently the huge wave at the end of part 1 did not kill him. Are you kidding me? Don't get me wrong... I loved the craptastic adventure that was Point Break, but do we need a part 2? Didn't they already make that movie and call it The Fast and The Furious? Whoa... I wonder who will play an EFF-BEEE-EYEE AGENT(!!) in this one?

The Last Dragon (getting back on track here... whoa...) was a "simple" tale of a young Harlem resident, named Bruce Leroy, who idolized Bruce Lee (who doesn't by the way?). He was forced to do battle with the Shogun of Harlem, also known as Sho'nuff... one of the best bad guys of all time.

The Shogun was strong and looked like he could not be beat... but our young friend, Bruce Leroy played by a man named Taimak (love the one word name...), looked deep into his soul and found... that's right, the GLOW!

He then proceeded to kick the crap out of the Shogun (possibly killing him even?) and he wins the girl at the end too... played by none other than Vanity! She later became a born again Christian but I guess that is a tale for another time... with that time being never, thanks.

To quickly sum up, we have a hero battling an exciting villain, trying to get a girl, and overcoming adversity, as well as wise-cracking fortune cookie makers, and a slew of extras that straddle the line between amateur kung-fu and amateur break dancing in their respective fight scenes... it is amazing!!

The culmination is clearly the song at the end... which extols the virtues that compliment the Glow (yes you should capitalize it!). I could listen to that on repeat for a week straight and still just start to get into it...

This is the formula that movies need to get back to... Ass-kicking Harlem youths who idolize Asian icons, while at the same time who are forced into battle with charismatic villains who also seem to idolize Asian icons, all while fighting for the affections of 80's pop whores (who then go on to repent for their coke-fueled sins)... It's a can't miss philosophy.

I leave you now with the lyrics to the title track for this film...

The Last Dragon - by Dwight David
Take life one day at a time
That's what a wise man said to me
He said, "Life, in all it's complexity
Is the ultimate test for you and me

When you walk holding your head up high
For the masters watching you from the sky
I know not what trouble lies ahead
Before you fight, use your head

It's time to leave my nest where you were born
This journey you must make alone
(Spread your wings and fly)
There's a power deep inside you, an inner strength
You'll find in time of need
(The Glow)

Like the seasons, love will come and go
If it's right, you'll automatically know
The world of mystery exists only in your head
When you become one with yourself
The wall will fall

The journey now before you is the final test
You've learned your lesson well
(I can teach you no more)
There's a power deep inside you, an inner strength
You'll find in time of need
(The Glow)

You are the Last Dragon
You possess the power of the Glow
You are the Last Dragon
You possess the power of the Glow
You are the Last Dragon
You possess the power of the Glow
You are the Last Dragon
You possess the power of the Glow
You are the Last Dragon
You possess the power of the Glow
You are the Last Dragon
You possess the power of the Glow

Monday, May 14, 2007

amazing story... Helmet's really do save lifes...

I typically prefer to write my own content rather than just linking to random stories on the interweb... but this is amazing...

A man had his head run over by a truck and he is fine...


Friday, May 11, 2007

My Mind Is A Blank Canvas....

Coming up with something that can be described as mildly-interesting to write about can be tough... today is one of those days.

I have so many ideas of things to write about yet I can't figure out which at the moment. If I force myself to write about one of them it will come out rushed and will be a boring read.

I do, however, have a go-to topic that never seems to fail... The Weirdness that is the state of California.

There are some interesting things going on out here this week...

-Griffith Park is on fire

-Catalina is on fire

-It was 90 two days ago and it is 70 today thanks to the always lovely Marine Layer that swoops in and confuses the hell out of you when you are getting dressed in the morning... "Jeez, look out that window... it's cloudy and looks really cold, I should go with long sleeves..." 2 hours later "Holy crap it is hot out! I am sweating my balls off here.... "

-A client of mine walked into her home to find a mentally unstable 19yr old man 2 days in a row, who had broken into her home and smashed the crap out of it... oh and he was wearing all of her and her daughter's underwear too. You can read more about this one by click here San Diego Union Tribune - Burglar Story

-A few days later (referring to the above story), Ike Turner showed up at her home and gave her son a signed Fender to replace his guitar that was smashed... ... ... Ike Turner?? Apparently he is an extremely nice gentleman according to my client, and a resident of a town right nearby her town.

See... California always has something interesting going on...

Hopefully I will have some pictures for you next week after I host a beer pong tournament tomorrow...

Tuesday, May 8, 2007

The Name is Gut... Beer Gut...

My office mates and I are in the midst of a weight-loss contest. Whoever loses the greatest percentage of weight over the course of about 4 1/2 months wins... everyone throws in $100. Of course this has stoked my urge to get in the gym and put that $41.99 a month to good use (other than just playing basketball twice a week before work...).

I cannot workout if I don't have my iPod. If I look in my bag and it is not in there... I will turn around and walk out, simple as that. I don't want to listen to the crap they pipe in, I don't want to hear some meathead slamming some weights down in the corner after he screams, and I don't want to hear my fat ass feet pounding down on the treadmill.

I have found it pretty amazing what a good song can do to your workout. I typically put my iPod on shuffle and skip over any songs which may hamper the workout... For example, I could be working on a great per-mile time because Metallica's "Blackened" is pushing me along when all of a sudden I hit a wall as Coldplay's "Clocks" comes across the headphones.

Usually it can be remedied with a quick push of the button until I find my next song to keep the workout rolling...

Lately however, I have found that one song seems to work better than others... and I am almost ashamed to admit. I say almost because I admit most everything about me. The song is the theme song from Casino Royale.

Chris Cornell's "You Know My Name" is what is causing me to increase the level of incline and speed of the treadmill as I push through the song... and it is kind of creeping me out.

I like to believe it is because I secretly wish I was James Bond (the cars, the girls, the license to kill, the travel, and the alcoholism with no consequences!). However, I think it is because I would like be able to walk out of the beach and look like Daniel Craig (his body not his face... he looks like a retarded soccer hooligan)... and that is the part that creeps me out.

I know that I will never look like that and I am OK with it (so is my fiance thankfully), and if this song helps me slim up while at the same time pocketing about $500-$600, then so be it... I will continue to chase down bad guys in a construction yard (set the incline to 8 and the speed to 7.3), drive my Aston through Monte Carlo (drive my Ford Ranger down the 405), and drink alcohol passionately (drink alcohol passionately).

Do you have a song that pushes you a little harder well working out?

(by the way... down 5 pounds to 219 so far)

Monday, May 7, 2007

Finally an Update on

Go check out my friends website No it is not a porn site as the name might have you thinking...

Wednesday, May 2, 2007

Today's Edition of You Make the Call (queue 80's sports music)

I play basketball in the mornings before work, two days a week. Those days are Wednesday and Friday for anyone looking to plan their schedule accordingly. Me and a few co-workers have been doing this for about a year now and it provides great joy to our weekly routine.

Today was a little different though...

About halfway through our on-going playoff series, a janitor for the gym (I won't tell you which, but there are 24 hours in a day and they are supposedly open for all of them...) was told to come in and start cleaning off the backboards of the surrounding courts.

These courts are in play of the main court we use for our game so the guy as sort of in our way when washing two of the baskets.

That was not the annoying part however... the water from the backboard dripped onto the court and caused one of the players (Let's use the name Disco Dave) to take a good spill to the floor. Of course being the asshole that I am, my first instinct is to laugh because I can clearly see that he is alright... but our second instinct is to be pissed at this janitor fellow. Disco Dave threw out a few swears and we went back to playing our games.

Now I ask you... who is more at fault here: The janitor for not taking the initiative to realize we are playing and he will probably be in the way... or... the manager who told him to go wash the backboards at 7:30 in the morning even though the gym will be a ghosttwon from 9am until lunch time?

I say the manager because, yes the janitor was just following orders, but the manager should have realized that perhaps the morning is what may be referred to as a "peak hour" for gym members to get in a workout.

You could argue that this could simply have gone to clean something else and then come back later but I feel that he doesn't get paid well enough to have to make "split" decisions like that.

After we were done playing, Disco Dave went over and apologized to the man for swearing which was a nice move and the guy said he didn't mind... at least we think he thought this is what he said... I still think Dave could have gone and made a little complaint to the manager perhaps to get his or her head out of their toned ass (I would assume toned since they manage a gym right?).

On a side note... I am really good at shooting a basketball...

Thank you good night...

Thursday, April 26, 2007

A Random But Good Quote...

You don’t stop laughing because you grow old. You grow old because you stop laughing.”
- Michael Pritchard

…Though I guess if you want to live forever you could just do whippets…

Monday, April 23, 2007

What I Do...

The best chance of making a sale is first thing in the morning. You sit down with your coffee and you log into the system. You have anywhere from 2 to 5 fresh leads in your system. If you are the first person to reach these people your odds of closing the deal are high and it could be a great start to the morning. If you aren’t the first person… well, it could be all downhill from here.

This is how a residential loan consultant starts his day… everyday.

You get into the office and you get on the phones. If you are doing your job you will already have deals in your pipeline that you can work on and that will eat up anywhere from 1 to 3 hours of your day. The real meat of your day however, is spent dialing and dialing… waiting for someone to pick up and listen to what you have to say.

I am trying to convince someone who filled out a form online, that they should refinance their home with me. I am honest and I tell it like it is, yet because of the nature of my industry many are prone to distrust me at first.

Do they have a right to be so apprehensive? Absolutely. We are dealing with their most important asset; their home. Are they apprehensive for the right reasons? Absolutely not. They think everyone is a cheat and a crook trying to juice them for anything they can cram into the closing costs of a loan. There are people out there who do this, but more often then not, the person on the other end of my phone has no clue what they should be looking out for and thus end up going with that person unknowingly.

You would be amazed at the things people associate with a good deal:

“This guy is promising me the lowest rate and the lowest closing costs…”
Well, he also left about $4,000 worth of fees off of your Good Faith Estimate. You can’t get lowest fees and lowest rate… it doesn’t work like that, and no one I have met in this industry works for free.

“This person said my home will appraise for $100,000 more than you guy said…”
Well, when that appraisal gets cut in the internal review process, what is your guy going to do then? Create the same loan I am, but increase his fee’s for “his extra work”.

“I spoke to another guy this afternoon who said he can get my 5.00% on a 30yr fixed…”
He could get you that… 3 years ago. Plus, did he put any discount points on his Good Faith to let you see that he is buying down his rate substantially to try and get as close as possible to that rate?

These are very basic things that homeowners get talked into thinking is possible. You will think by going with the cheapest person, you are getting the best deal? That notion is much farther from the truth than you would like to believe.

A good source of information to check out is Blown Mortgage. The author of the site owns a mortgage company and relays all sorts of inside information that you as a consumer may not typically get. Plus he does it anonymously with no ties to his own company.

With this job there are some tremendous ups and downs. My goal is to even those out into a nice flat line so I don’t get extremely excited over a potential $15,000 month because it could quickly turn into a $00,000 month… actually it would turn into a negative month because I would owe my boss a desk fee at that point (since I am a waste of money for him that month). It can be stressful at times…

Don’t cry for me (Argentina) though… I choose this job and all that comes with it. You live with the ups and you live with the downs… I am just trying to make it through to the other side of this industry where I can tell people to make phone calls for me…

Go read Blown Mortgage now…

Monday, April 16, 2007

A Martini Or A Cannoli?

A friend posed this question the other night (while we were drinking)...

Would you rather be Tony Soprano or James Bond (the most recent Daniel Craig variation)?

To me, the answer is easy. I would much rather be James Bond.

Here is why:

  • He drinks like a fish yet is able to remain classy and charming.
  • He gets to drive the most amazing cars in the world
  • He gets to drive the most amazing women in the world
  • He is always traveling to the most amazing locations all over the globe
  • He has a license to kill

Those are the first few reasons that spring to mind.

My friends reasoning for being Tony Soprano is very simple. He feels that Tony is able to enjoy the finer things in life just like James, but he doesn't have to travel like Bond. He does not need to work as hard for what he has at this point in his life. His favorite reason however, is that he can be rich, sleep with hot women, and still be able to look like a fat ass.

He has a decent point there. It would be nice to enjoy a great plate of pasta, some top shelf Chianti, and not worry about hitting the gym in the morning.

Ian Fleming may not have written it in to the stories, but there is no way James Bond looks the way he does without hammering the weight room (remember, Daniel Craig not Timothy Dalton or Roger Moore...) every day that he is not on an assignment.


A jet-setting spy or a mob boss whose turf is part of New Jersey? That is an easy call to me... I will take my toned body, 2007 Aston Martin DB9, and a Vesper waiting for me at the bar...

... the drink and the girl.

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Dear Hair, Please Stay! Love, Don

I love my hair.

It is full and thick and grows fast... and I want it to stay that way until they put me in the ground.

The reason I am so paranoid about my hair is that my father, his 4 brothers, 3 of my mother's brothers, and my paternal grandfather, all have thin or no hair.

...and it scares the crap out of me.

I don't care if it's vain or silly to worry about such a thing, and up to this point my hair is healthy and full. However, I want it to be there for the rest of my life, I don't care if it turns grey as a ghost... if it is all there, I will be a happy (senile) old man.

We hear all the time that you should judge your future hair status by taking a look at your mother's father. I never met him because he died at a young age thanks to the stereotypical combination of alcohol-related liver problems and being Irish.
I am assured that when he passed (around the age of 40 or so I believe), he had a full head of bushy, red hair. Now I like to drink (which is fine since I don't have an addictive personality and know when to say when) but I also love my hair (as you may have been able to pry from the subtle meandering of this post). Things are looking up at this point.

There have been some modern gains in science and medicine in terms of hair restoration it seems. I have a couple of friends who swear by Propecia, and it seems to work nicely for them. They however have health insurance and can afford such things...

If someday I find my drain is getting full and my scalp is getting sunburned, I will most likely be forced to resort to more "affordable" tactics... perhaps in the future, there will be a procedure where they can take the hair off a monkey's ass and put it on my head... but then I wonder, will I constantly smell shit all day and could I develop an overactive love for bananas? Hopefully my coworkers won't walk into the bathroom and find me flinging crap over my stall... now that would be a touch embarrassing at the Monday meeting.

For now I will hold on to the belief that you go by your mother's father... so 3 cheers to my healthy head of hair!!

Shit... maybe I should get my liver looked at...

Thursday, April 5, 2007

Excuse Me Sir, Do You Have The Time? Why Yes, It's About $5,000.

Is there something wrong with me?

I really like watches. I think they are an accessory that is very nice and functional at he same time. It is not as pointless as general jewelry, it actually serves a purpose.

However... the watches that I want to purchase cost ridiculous amounts of money and therefore I cannot afford them.

Is it really necessary to have a watch of this caliber? Do I need a $7,000+ Breitling Montbrilliant Olympus? Do I need to also have a $6,380 Jacob&Co Five Time Zone Watch?

The quick answer is no... (ask my fiance, she will tell you the same answer)

I cannot afford one, nor do I need one.

But I WANT one.

Now, does this make me crazy? Say I do have the money some day and can afford one of these watches... will I be stupid for buying one?

I say NO.

The watch works just like a $15 Casio watch sure... but it also does more than that.

When you look down on your wrist, you will be reminded that you have put in a lot of hard work and succeeded in life financially. Financial success in our culture is a very important thing whether you agree with it or not, and this says to you as well as those around you, that you are doing something right.

As long as you aren't a douche bag about owning an expensive watch, you can afford to purchase it, and you appreciate it... where is the harm?

Maybe my brain is getting too much "Orange County" stimulation (my co-worker, and office mate, is looking at Breitlings on his computer as we speak...) and I need to come back to my senses... or maybe I just need to keep working hard so I can look down and see that $5,000-$10,000 worth of happiness shining back at me?

What do you think?

Wednesday, April 4, 2007

Check out

A friend on the East Coast started a website and he is trying all sorts of things to expand it.

He decided to try his first podcast and interviewed me to test it out.

Give it a listen.

He sounds professional and I sound very unprepared... it is funny and it should only get better.

Click on the link to the podcast near the top of the page and then click the title on the page that opens to open the podcast window.

Friday, March 30, 2007

The Quick Hitter List: Volume 1

The Quick Hitter List: Volume 1

-I went to school with a young lady who had no arms. She was this way from birth. The really interesting part is that she could write… with her feet… Now she didn’t just write clearly… she had beautiful handwriting (footwriting?). I grew up using my hand to write and she grew up using her foot… and her penmanship is outstanding whereas mine is merely passable. The incredibly interesting part is that she has a driver’s license and steers with her foot as well. She is an amazing person and I hope you all feel less capable for reading that… unless of course you have 1 leg and no arms and can do all that… then you can be her hero.

-I went to a high-end car dealership with a co-worker the other day. It was our lunch break and he wanted to see how much it would cost for him to lease a new Porsche Cayman. He was leaning towards this car because, while it is indeed a Porsche, it is not as expensive as a 911 or a Cayenne. We got to the dealership and we quickly found out that a Carrera that is anywhere from a 1999 up to about a 2001, is actually cheaper than the Cayman… has more leg room, is a million times more fun to drive, and holds it value much better. This fascinates me because Porsches have always been my favorite car growing up and therefore have always seemed so out of reach. Yet, someday I could find myself sitting in the driver’s seat of a 911 (albeit one that is 6 years old and has 40,000 miles on it). The sad (very Orange County California) part of the story is that my co-worker friend does not own his home. He rents it. So he will be renting a home with a Porsche out front. Would you rather drive a Honda now and be paying a mortgage on a property that you own OR be paying rent and have a really nice car out front? I am a car fanatic yet I will own property before I buy a Porsche… (or so my fiancĂ© thinks….)

-I am going to Vegas in 2 months. I will be attending a historic “Double Bachelor Party”, that involves friends from both sides of this country. East meets West in Vegas. I am looking forward to it as Vegas is one of my favorite cities in the world. However, upon closer examination it is the most ridiculous and inane place you can go. I am paying the hotel/casino owners stupid amounts of money so I can play simple games…. And I love every second of it. Why do we think it is OK to lose $500 in a game of blackjack, but we may make fun of a friend who just purchased a $200 pair of jeans. His jeans will last for a year at least, but my $500 lasted 30 minutes… and I am now drunk and alone because my friends still have chips and you can’t stand and watch them or you kill their table karma. Does that sound like fun to you? I love Vegas and I can’t wait… VEGAS!

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Dusting off an old one....

Here is another screenplay I started a couple years ago and never follow through with... Not as long as the last one so give it a read.



INT. JACOB’S HOUSE - NIGHT – Three men are sitting on a couch watching a movie. The house is very simply decorated, yet the TV is large and the sound system is good. This room is made for watching movies, which is evident by the random stacks of DVDs pileed near the TV. All the guys appear to be in their mid 20’s. Paul Stead is on the left, Derek Andrews is in the middle, and Jacob Marks is on the right. All three are focusing very hard on the action taking place on the TV. The lights are turned off and all three men are intently watching the screen. They are watching “Point Break.” We can see the men’s faces but we hear the TV, it is clearly the main robbery scene in the movie.

“Man this scene is crap!”


“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Yeah, are you serious?”

“Am I serious? Are you guys for real? Everything about this specific pile of crap is weak. Don’t get me wrong, this is an entertaining movie and all, but the robbery scenes are way off.”

“You’re whacked out of your dome. There is nothing wrong with this bank robbery. The scene is great.

“Yeah, this scene fits in perfect.”

“Look, I know we all love this movie, but I have serious problems with the robbery. I mean the “Ex-Presidents,” come on now, that is really weak. They are trying to be these tough and extreme bank robbers, but I just don’t feel it. If Ronald Reagan was pointing a gun in my face, I think I would laugh my ass off. Come on guys, this is our ##th president. Not only that, he isn’t exactly aging well either.

“Dude, I don’t know what you are talking about. Those masks are freaky looking.

“Yeah, those guys are freaky looking.”

“Plus, if a gun was pointed at me I don’t care if they had a Homer Simpson mask on. I would be leaving some easy to follow Oregon trails in my jeans.”

“Yeah, easy to follow trails coming out.”

“Alright, I admit a gun in the face may be intimidating, but the “surf talk” these guys use certainly is not. If I am a teller standing behind the glass and a robber says “Yo dude, pass me some radical greenbacks so I can shoot the tubes of Australia,” I am going to be laughing so hard I hope I don’t miss the button for the silent alarm.”

“Alright Spielberg, are you saying that you could have done a better job?”

“Yeah, Spielberg here thinks he can do it better.”

“I told you assholes to quit calling me Spielberg. I like the man’s work but it isn’t my style.”

“Oh excuse me, exactly what is your style then Mr. I’m going-to-make-it-someday-just-you-watch?”

“Yeah, what is your style?”

“Well, it really doesn’t have a pre-defined category. I like to call it “New-Realism.” It is a new style that is more realistic than the rest of the fake crap that is being made.”

“Well the rest of the so-called crap is making money, which you are not.”

“Yeah, you’re not making any money dude.”

“Yeah I know. Thanks again for letting me crash here guys. I really appreciate it.”

“Well, I just want you to remember us IF you ever get famous.”

“You mean when.”

“Yeah, I think he meant if.”

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Love Is All You Need... You Son Of A Bitch... Unabridged (v 1.1)
road rage
a fit of violent anger by the driver of an automobile, esp. one directed toward and endangering other motorists or pedestrians.

I have road rage... often. Now, I don't do anything dangerous like try to swerve my truck at someone else or something stupid. I just happen to get extremely angry at all kinds of stuff that happens while driving.

Say someone comes into my lane in front of me and does not use their blinker, even if there is enough room for them to do so, it drives me crazy. Or for example, a person might tap their brakes on the highway when there is no reason to do so... I start using obsenities to describe how their mother might perfrom certain acts involved in making love. it's not nice stuff and I know it is overboard on my part, but I dont roll down my windows and scream it at people. I dont give the finger and I rarely use the horn unless it is absolutely neccesary. I simply make myself upset and I can deal with that.

Yesterday an odd thing happened... I was driving up the 405 on my way home from work and I was listening to The Beatles. Specifically I was listening to the song "All You Need Is Love" and and singing along as I usually do.

Just then a car cut me off with no blinker and I went into road rage mode, swearing at this person... all the while, I was still singing the song.

You son of a bitch, use your damn blinker when you want to cut me off... ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE... (BUM BAH BUM BUM BUM)... Oh look, now you are going to go slower yet you need to get in FRONT of me? ... ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE, LOVE... You piece of shit! Stop hitting your damn brakes, there is no one in front of you!!! ... LOVE IS ALL YOU NEED... LOVE IS ALL YOU NEED...

Needless to say, I was quite confused after I settled down and also quite amused. This countinued for the remainder of the drive home...

Hey asshole, if you are going to turn there give me some heads up... AHH LOOK AT ALL THE LONELY PEOPLE... Jesus buddy, I know it's yellow but you don't need to slam on the brakes! ... ELEANOR RIGBY , PICKS UP THE RICE IN THE CHURCH WHERE NO WEDDING HAS BEEN...LIVES IN A DR- Come ON grandma, what the fuck are you doing here? Your car can go faster than 12!... ALL THE LONELY PEOPLE, WHERE DO THEY ALL BELONG...

It was an interesting drive home to say the least.

Other potential titles for this post were:

  • Paperback Driver
  • Live and Let Drive (that's a good one...)
  • Let It Be... I Wish I could...
  • Hey Jude, Get The F*&K Off The Road!

As you can see I had some options here... I feel that the one I decided on fits with the mood though...

Sunday, March 18, 2007

St. Patricks Day ... in The OC, bitch...

I love Guinness... I will start this off the right way and just profess my love for this beverage to set the tone for this post. I love everything about it. From the taste (bitter and sweet at the same time) to its color (the most beautiful black in the brewer's entire palette), it is not just a "beer", it is a beverage to be savored and truly enjoyed.

St. Patrick's Day is a time when people congregate in bars and pubs across the country and raise a pint of the good stuff.

Since I grew up next door to downtown Boston, I know how to celebrate this day properly. You drink alcohol that comes from Ireland, you wear something green, you hang out with good friends (you might even make new friends), you repeat the first step continously, and then you hope a fight doesn't break out at some point. It's a great day.

I don't live in near Boston anymore however... I live about 3,000 miles away in Huntington Beach, California. Smack in Orange County or The OC as a popular albeit canceled Fox show likes to call it. It's actually 2,992 miles from Boston to my street address here, I checked on Google Maps.

People here dress up in the green colors... they congregate in the bars and pubs... and they drink. It sounds the same doesn't it?

It's not.

I didn't start my St. Patrick's Day at a Sully's Pub/O'Hanrahan's/Kitty O'Sheas/Insert Stereotypical Irish Name Here/etc. I started it at a bar on the beach called Chimayo's. That's a mexican word, it has Mayan roots. This is in fact my favorite place in Huntington Beach because it's on the water however it didn't have a St. Patrick's Day vibe that I was looking for. Sure the Guinness was being served, but there were people eating tacos and nachos and I think I saw a few Corona's and Pacifico's being imbibed. It wasn't right.

A few friends joined my fiance (also from back east) and I and we went to our next location which was further up the street away from the beach a bit. The line was long but thankfully I knew the head bouncer. His skids were in need of greasing but it sure beat the very long line. Once inside I thought I was in a better position because the first person I saw had on a Larry Bird jersey. Jackpot! Well... right then his friend walked up and he had on a Kobe Bryant jersey. The guy wearing the Bird jersey on St. Patrick's is fine, the weather in CA is warm enough where you don't look like an idiot, the shirt is green, plus it's Larry Friggin' Bird... show some respect. Now, the guy in the Bryant jersey , he just looks like an asshole. Not because it's a Kobe Bryant jersey, because it's a Bryant jersey on St. Patrick's Day.

I tried to stick to my aforementioned guns (i.e. my rules for St. Patrick's Day, see above if you forgot them already) and drank nothing but Guinness. However, at one point my friend decided he wanted to do a shot, which is fine, but the shot he choose violated my rules.

He ordered Jaeger shots.

Now I was internally conflicted! Should I brush him off because Jaeger is from Germany, disgusting by itself, and violates my "irish-only" alcohol rule for the day? OR do I stick to my other principal about never turning down a free drink (with one exception) and keep the heritage of Ireland alive because an Irishman would most likely drink it regardless? Easy answer... it tasted like shit by the way.

To start to wrap this up here... people all over the county celebrate this day (except in parts of Utah) and it is a little different depending on where you are. People in Orange County celebrate the day as if it is just another excuse to get drunk whereas people in Boston drink like it's their last day on Earth. The result is the same though everywhere even if the feeling is different... you hang out with friends, you make new friends, and you drink. Sounds like a great day no matter where you are, to me...

Oh the one exception to my free drink rule? If someone offers you a drink called a "Three Wise Men"...

punch them in the gut.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

An Oldie But A Goodie... perhaps... maybe not... ah screw it, just read it.

This is a screenplay I started when I first moved to California. I only got 7 pages in and then lost focus on it... I wanted to post it here to see what people think about it. I had to update some of the references but otherwise it is exactly the same as when I started it in 2003.... Let me know what you think.

Jeff Glucker


EXT. Vegas/Night – Shots of Vegas landmarks

Welcome to Vegas, the real city that never ever sleeps. Dreams are made and broken here. Most people think that these dreams revolve around money, and for the most part they do. Men and women from all over the world roll into this town in search of that one big hit. That idea that anyone can find the needle lost in the haystack of neon lights. I can’t lie; that is all that I thought this town had to offer. I believed that it was merely a place to spend as much money as you can while drinking as much alcohol as you can. Boy was I completely wrong about this place…

INT. CAR/Night – Jake, a good-looking man in his early twenties, is driving the car towards the light in the desert. He and two of his close friends, both of whom are also good-looking guys in their early twenties, are heading to Las Vegas.

I love this road. This is my personal “Trail of Tears.” People are so excited when they are heading east on 15, but it is their attitude on the way back that matters. Right now I am surrounded by nothing but excitement. Sitting next to me in shotgun is my good friend Dan. He is definitely the logical one out of us three. Basically, he knows when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em. I would be surprised to see him in the hole at the end of the weekend. He doesn’t go for the risky stuff. That is where my buddy in the back seat comes in. His name is Paul, and he is the illogical one. He would drop the last five dollars to his name on black. He doesn’t see anything in this town as a risk, just a chance to put more money in his pocket. I love going to Vegas with these two guys because I get to see the extremes of the betting styles. As for me, I tend to fall somewhere in the middle. I try to play smart by not going for the big rake, just going for the small pulls. I just can’t seem to help my self from going for that stupid bet every now and then either.

Holy shit, where almost there baby! I fucking love this road.

Chill out man, you know your gonna be broke by (CHECKS HIS WATCH AND SEE’S THAT IT IS 12:45am) two-thirty.

Screw that, I am going to be soaring by that time. What about you dude, where are you going to be by then?

I already told you guys, I am just planning on chilling during this trip. It’s not every day you too come out to visit me in California.

Well, shit, you know how fucking cold it is back home. I live for our Vegas trips.

Definitely, I love getting out away from the losers at the Seven-Card No-Ante late nights at the wonder of it all, Foxwoods. This is where real people come to play.

Hey, I miss those late nights at the woods. That shit made us who we are today.

Yeah, exactly who are we?

We are bad-asses heading into the jungle to tear it up!

All right then, the plan is going to be check in, change, and right down to the tables?

Damn straight that’s the plan. You ready Jakey boy?

I told you guys I am just going to chill and enjoy the atmosphere. I just love being in the town.

Yeah anything can happen here.

No, only one thing happens here. Casinos take our money, and we take their alcohol.

INT. THE SAHARA/Late night – Jake, Paul, and Dan make their way onto the casino floor at the Sahara. They pause to take in the sights and sounds of one of the greatest things on the planet, the first step onto the gaming floor of a Las Vegas weekend. The boys make their first move towards the blackjack tables.

Ok guys, we just got here so lets take it easy. This place has limits as low as a buck so it is the perfect place to warm-up and get our feet wet for the weekend.

I agree, lets get cracking.


What… I am a little tired so I just want to start slow. For fucks sake relax, I’ll get nuts soon enough.

Hey Jake, where do you want to sit?

I told you man, I just want to relax this weekend. You pick the table, and I’ll sit there for the drinks, they don’t serve bystanders here.

Here we go, five dollar minimum is acceptable I assume ladies.

Yes lets get going; I’m starting to get the shakes.

The guys sit at a table and start to play blackjack. A few people come and go, as do the stacks in front of them. No big wins and no big losses, it is a good start to a Vegas vacation

Our hands are coming and going, no one is really getting into a rhythm but we are having a great time. We are hanging out, drinking and gambling what could be better. Then “she” sits down. There are two other guys at the table and she sits right next to me. I’m a male human being with more than one drink in my system so I notice her right away. She is very cute even though she looks under-dressed just like us. I can’t really blame here, after all it is 1:08 in the morning right now. That isn’t a guess either, I remember the exact time.

JULIE (sits at the table. She is early twenties just like the guys. She has long blonde hair tied up and a great body that is concealed by her late night attire)
Do you guys mind if I sit here?

No we were actually trying to keep this table strictly sausage only.

…What an ass.

Hi, my names Jake. What’s your name?

JULIE (concentrating more on Jake than the others)
Hello, my name is Julie. Where are you guys from?

I just moved to Huntington Beach, these guys are visiting from back home in Boston. How about yourself?

I just drove in from Salt Lake City. That’s cool, Vegas is halfway between us.

That is cool. Do you come to Vegas a lot?

I love Vegas. I come here all the time. I came here this weekend to watch all the college basketball on TV and maybe place a few bets.

JAKE (bewildered)
Really…? That is awesome. You like college basketball?

Are you serious, it is one of the best sports you can watch on TV?

Wow… I don’t know what to say. I’ve never met a girl who likes gambling and sports. I feel like I need a breather.

Yo this table is dying out. I need to find another place to get some action moving.

Yeah, this table is kicking my ass. They keep moving in the damn Asian dealers on me, and you know how that goes. I am going to take a look around.

Uh… Ok, you guys go ahead. I am going to hang out with this table for a while.

Smart move, I think this table is just about to heat up. I’m glad you chose to stay.

Hours seem like minutes in this town, and right now I can’t get enough of them. This girl is amazing, I thought I knew how to gamble but she is showing me how it’s supposed to be done. She’s also doing it with a smile on her face the whole time. I don’t know how to describe what’s going on. I am just having a blast my first night in Vegas. I say night but I mean morning. It is very late. Dan and Paul have already gone to bed, but Julie and me are still going for blackjacks and rolling for sevens. We both decide that it is getting a little too late and make our way to our respective rooms, but first I make sure that I get her cell number so I can meet up with her again if I am lucky. I get the phone number and I head up to my room with no idea of what I have just gotten myself into. I settle into my bed and check the clock. Right before I fall asleep it reads 7:45am, man I love this town.

Int. Hotel Room at the Sahara/mid morning – Paul is sleeping on one bed and Dan is sleeping on another. Jake is sleeping on the floor after coming in so late. Dan begins to wake up, and Paul does the same. As they are getting ready Jake begins to stir, even though he only went to bed a few hours ago. It is now 11am, and a Vegas Saturday is just beginning.

The first thing to hit the room is the light. Someone always opens the blinds before you do. That light is like God shining down in your face. You don’t know what to do so you just sit there for a minute until you can move out of the light. You can’t go far though because that light takes up the entire room. As the light moves through your system you begin to remember what happened the night before. You are up or down, your are hungover or you are stable. That is what normally happens, but this time all I can remember is the girl…

Jake, Dan, and Paul are moving amongst the lines at a buffet.

Dude, we need to start hitting other casinos tonight so that we are spreading our cash around and maybe meeting some chickies in the process, huh?

No shit, I need to move over to the Hard Rock so that I can get my “shwerve” on. The honeys there are hot as can be.
Did you just use the word “shwerve?”

Yeah, so what? We are in Vegas baby.

Jesus… I can’t gamble near this kid anymore. You just said “shwereve” and you fucking meant it? No wonder I lost $150 fucking dollars last night. I got Jaime fucking Kennedy over here, screaming in my ear about getting his “schwerve” or his “mizack” on. How’s this sound, stay the “fizuck” away from me “dizogg?”

Whatever bitch… I just want to get my groove flowing at one of these sweet clubs and everything will be cool.

Ok, I will let those comments slide if you can direct me to some grade-A Vegas poontang. What about you Jake, what do you want to do this fine Vegas morning?

I could use some grub, and then I wouldn’t mind seeing what Julie is doing today.

Who the fuck is Julie?

No shit, who the fuck is Julie?

You assholes, Julie is the chick I chilled with at the tables. The chick who showed up right when you guys went upstairs to go to bed.

Oh, the blondie? You have her cell or something?

Whatever… congratulations, but lets get some fucking food and then you can talk to her all the fucking day for all I care. First lets hit the buffet.

Saturday, March 10, 2007

Hey there... Ferrari Guy... Tone it down a notch maybe?

I decided to put in some hours at work this past Saturday. When you wake up early on a Saturday, your body needs some coffee and some food. This is an undisputed fact. So to give my body what it needed, I decided to stop at a place near work that has a Starbucks and a Bruegger's Bagels side by side.

I pulled into the parking lot and there was a beautiful Ferrari parked right near my spot. For those wondering, it was a 360 Modena Spyder. It was red the way a Ferrari should be... not yellow or purple or something else stupid. It was a very nice car. Sure you see these quite often in Orange County but they are still pretty awesome every time.

As I passed by the car, I wondered to myself if I would be able to tell who the owner was. Could I spot the guy right away or would I be unable to tell...

I was able to tell.

I spotted a gentleman sitting at a table with a friend. He had on a full blue and gold Dolce & Gabbana Track Suit, Ferrari racing shoes, and a hat that just said Prague on it.

I could taste his opulence... it was palpable.

I don't have a problem with someone spending their money. If you have it and you earned, then go ahead and spend it to your hearts content. But I don't think you need to go this route.

The D&G track suit is a little ridiculous to begin with but I can let that slide, really I can. However, the Ferrari racing shoes? Come on now... I don't think he needs to worry about his best "Bagel Run" time. He probably already had that record on lock down. I wonder if he has a significant other at home with a stopwatch waiting by the door. "Alright baby, great time! But I am going to have to ding you a few seconds because I didn't want my bagel toasted. Better luck next weekend." Is he really working on his heel-toe downshifts as he is also pondering how the barrista is going to make his grande-soy-macchiato?

Also, this guy sitting with him... maybe its his pit guy? If he gets a blow out on the way there due to his excessive speeds this guy is ready to hop out and fix that tire in 13 seconds or less. It is really an amazing team they have together, in my head.

The Prague hat really isn't a big deal at all. I often think of being in far off places myself. Though I do wonder if he wears an Irvine hat or a Newport Beach hat when he is in Prague? That would be pretty interesting.

I would like Ferrari guy to tone it down a notch. He already owns the car, the clothes, and the pit crew... I don't think he needs to slam the point home further with the racing shoes.

Maybe I am going about this the wrong way though... maybe we should dress in accordance with the vehicle we own. I drive a Ford Ranger. I think I should start utilizing the bed of the truck more. Perhaps I should also start purchasing lighter wash jeans, hiking boots, and a flannel or two... become more of a truck guy. My middle-class father drives a Ford Taurus so he is already set. The car matches his outfit, title, and station in life perfectly. A co-worker owns a Matrix, what the hell is he supposed to do? Listen to techno and wear full length black jackets well shouting about his post apocalyptic vision of the future?

You don't have to dress to the car you own. Clearly this guy wanted attention. The car should draw enough attention as it is.... he doesn't need to look like J-Lo on top of it.

Ferrari Guy, you're amp may go to 11... bring it down to a 7 please.

Friday, March 9, 2007

I Actually Do Wash My Hands After I Pee... Trust Me...

I am going to assume that most people reading this uses the bathroom or has at least a few times in their life... That is a fairly safe assumption, right?

It is considered good practice and is definitely hygienic to wash your hands after you take a shit. You have just wiped a paper thin cloth across your asshole, which just produced waste material that has traveled through your body. You may have even gotten a little bit of shit on your hand, and you need to be more careful… a light touch is all that is needed, but hey, I am not here to judge you.

The fact of the matter is that you had a thin shit-covered cloth in your hand, so now you know need to wash said hand. I think we can all agree on that.

Where I differ on the bathroom hygiene policy is where it comes to pissing, urinating, pee pee-ing... or Number 1, as the kids are calling it these days. I personally like to call it “evacuating sin” but hey, tomato-tomaHto, right?

This is strictly for the guys now of course, unless we have some pre-op trannies in attendance today, and then, well fuck it, you are already confused enough.

So, guys, you unzip and grab your dick to pee... you grab it and aim your sins into the toilet. Simple, and usually quick unless you have been hanging around with Johnny, Jack, and Jim all night. Then you could be there for a good half-hour… read a book while you are there, it helps to pass the time.

Anyway… you grab your scwhammy in your hand and urinate. You don’t piss on your hands, you piss in the toilet. Why do we need to wash our hands after this? Unless we just got done banging some women of ill-repute, our junk is clean! It has been sleeping all day under at least 1 layer of protection, I say 1 layer because there are the free-ballers out there amongst us. My junk is protected by 2 layers the way God intended... and by God, I mean the fruit of the loom Apple. That guy can sing!

Our junk is clean people! Our hands are probably dirtier than our fucking packages are! We pick our nose, scratch our ass, and shake hands with Steve in accounting, its fucking gross!

If anything, we should be washing our DICKS after we pee! They probably got dirty from our hands. Just go over to the sink, grab the soap and start scrubbing the crap that came off your hands, off your unit.

Ladies, obviously you don’t fully understand because you sit down to pee, and you have to wipe your no-no love hole. Clearly your hands may come into contact with some urine and you should continue your wiping habits.

Guys… stop cleaning your hands after you piss… you don’t need to do it.

(Editors Note: I do wash my hands after I pee... Don't get the wrong idea. I don't think it is always necessary, but I do think it is the social norm and I try to stay somewhere in that range of acceptable behavior.)

Tuesday, March 6, 2007

I Am Paying With My Thunder Card!!

I have come to a conclusion in regards to the credit ratings of perfect strangers... if you have pictures of stupid crap on your credit card, then your limit is probably $350-$500 bucks tops.

The person in front of you paying for their Venti Soy Latte is telling alot about themselves when they whip out the plastic to pay for this item. First off they are saying, I don't have enough in my checking account to cover this $3.50 coffee but I really need it right now so I will use my credit card. The second thing they are telling you is what their fico score is. If you see a plain color like, let's say silver for example, then this person probably has decent credit. However, if you see a cat playing with a ball of yarn... odds are this person probably won't qualify to lease a Kia.

The credit card companies are playing a dirty trick on us. They want to entice you with a picture so you might ignore the interest rate or the total limit. "Hey check out this awesome picture of hot air balloons taking off... you don't need to read any of that small print over there though."

They also throw words at you to describe your new card. Platinum is a popular one these days. A platinum card used to mean you were an established customer of that particular company and they rewarded you with a high limit and a low interest rate. Now they throw it on every card they can. The only term on a credit card that impresses me these days would have to be a Black Card from American Express... or as Kayne West likes to say "... Oh my God, is that a Black Card... and I replied Why Yes, though I prefer African American Express...". If you have one of those cards you are doing something correct financially or you are a popular rapper/producer.

Don't find fault with the person in front of you with that lightning bolt on their credit card however. They may be in a rebuilding phase financially and this is the first card they can qualify for. They are using this card to restore their credit rating and move up in the (credit-oriented) world. They just made a bad choice when looking at all the stickers that came with their new offer for a limit of $500 and a starting balance of $150 due to processing charges and annual fees. A better idea is to congratulate them for trying to "grow" their personal finances, and be "proactive" in their quest for a better fico score, and their "use" of corporate buzz words.

I happen to know from personal experience that it the image on one's credit card might not always peg them for a deadbeat, it might say more about them than you think...

What does my card say about me you ask? Oh, you didn't ask... well I will tell you anyway...

It says I am rebuilding as well...

or maybe it says I know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em...

Monday, March 5, 2007

Orange County: The Magic Kingdom Part 3

Chapter Tres: This is how we do it in the OC...

I have an apartment and a car but no job and no bed. I needed to get started on the job thing first. My floors were carpeted, how bad could no bed be after all?

I tended bar back in Boston before I left strictly for the purpose of gaining experience to become a bartender out here for awhile. Not for too long though, I assumed that Hollywood might come knocking at any time. I decided to hit a few areas that I deemed hot-spots in the area.

The first places I went to look at were those littering the sides of Main street in Huntington Beach, or HB. By the way, why the hell does everyone abbreviate so much out here? Sometimes people are so lazy they just cut off the end of a word, like “late” for example. They took later and turned it into late. What exactly is everyone late for I’d like to know? The word is latER. As in I will see you later, and no I won’t be late. See how easy that can be.

Anyway, sorry about that... As I was saying, I went to a few of the local watering holes adorning Main street. First stop was clearly going to be Fred’s Mexican CafĂ©. I had been testing out there product over the course of my first few weeks in the OC and I always seemed to enjoy myself there. Maybe it was the view the staff of Fred’s provided. No I don’t mean the view of the ocean or the street, I literally mean the staff. It was clear I wasn’t a hot enough chick to get behind the bar here. The other spots on main weren’t hiring either. Things weren’t looking good in Huntington, so I decided to take a spin over to Newport Beach. I went to Sharkey’s, Beach Ball, and a few others to find the same result. Sorry try back later. Fuck that, I need money now! The carpet is only comfortable for so long and gas is damn expensive. I needed to find something else, or sell my truck and buy a sleeping bag and a Honda.

Luck prevailed as I was driving home from another unsuccessful round of job searching. It took the form of a help wanted sign in the window of Mr. Keg. What a great place to work. I was surrounded by beer. Since I considered myself a writer, I also considered drinking... often. This job was fantastic. I would take kegs of beer to parties and private keg refrigerators, or kegarators as they prefer to be called. People would tip me with alcohol and a few bucks here and there. There would be company meetings in the back of the store at closing time where we take a few samples of our product. I was having a fantastic time, right up until payday. There isn’t a lot of money to be had in the thrilling career of a keg delivery person. Mr. Keg wasn’t going to pay the bills. I needed to find something new.

One random day, I was searching job listings online and came across an ad for bar backs and bartenders at the freshly renovated resort in Newport Beach known as the Balboa Bay Club. This is how I came to find myself in the most mythical part of the Orange Kingdom.

Thursday, March 1, 2007

What Happened to Driver's Ed in California?

So my friends on the East Coast want to get some insight into what goes on out here in La-La land...

The first thing that comes to mind to discuss is the driving ability of the general populace here in Southern California. It's not good... Here are my major complaints:

1. On major freeways throughout this county, the left lane is the passing lane. You use it to pass vehicles moving slower than you want to go. Drivers throughout the country realize this and move over when a faster moving vehicle approaches. Also, if there is no one to pass you move over.

People here simply use it as just another lane on the highway. This creates serious traffic hazards. Now, when I come up on someone who feels he only needs to go 60 in the left lane of the highway it forces me to go around him. This means I am now making an illegal pass on the right and I don't want to do this. It doesn't mean I won't/don't do this... I do it, quite often actually.

It drives me insane that this person thinks they are driving safely by doing this. This is also the same person who stays in the left lane until they are 10 seconds away from their exit. They must then cut across 4 or 5 lanes of traffic so that they get to where they are going. A sane driver (aka anyone else in the country) would realize they are missing their exit and simply take the next one, rather than risking every one's life just so they don't have to go to "the other Starbucks".

2. The blinker has become a vestigial option. If I am going to make a turn or change a lane, I use my blinker to let the other drivers around me in on my intentions. Out here it seems it is more exciting to just let people guess what your next move is going to be. I imagine the train of thought for someone in this situation is as follows: "Man, I really need to get over into that left lane... let's see, is there anyone coming... yup, there are a few cars over there... OK, lets give it a shot and hope for the best!" This is not a maneuver that will result in a high success rate over time. You will cause an accident and it will be your fault. The best example of this practice is when you are driving down the road behind another vehicle. The person in front of you decides they need to pull into this strip mall/gas station/El Pollo Loco immediately! No blinker, just a sharp turn of the wheel and they are in there. Meanwhile you are stopped in the middle of the street because you just slammed on your brakes... now your jeans are a mess getting the shit scared out of you and your heart is jumping out of your chest. This person is oblivious to this because they are from Southern California and they are all that matters.

3. Why is that person hitting their brakes right now? Let me paint a picture for you... You are cruising down the highway nice and smoothly. Their is a car in front of you but there is no real traffic in front of them and everything is flowing (which is rare with the traffic out here but it does happen on the occasional Sunday morning at 3:30am when it is raining out). All of a sudden you see nothing but red lights slamming in front of you! That's right.. the person in front of you felt that they needed to slow down a bit and the best way to achieve that is through a series of brake slams. This is highly frustrating and usually leads to me passing them on the right, giving them the "I hate everything about you" glare, and being in a shitty mood for the next 15 minutes as I ponder why people drive like absolute shit in this area.

These are the big there and if I keep thinking this post would be way too long... I do have a theory as to why the driving is so terrible out here. Well actually, my fiance came up with this theory, I am just taking it over as my own.

People only care about themselves out here and this extends onto the roadways. Why doesn't that person in front of you use their blinker when they cut into the In-N-Out? Because the only thing that matters to them is their Double-Double with Fries, not the fact that they only caused a major accident. Why doesn't that person get out of the passing lane? Because they think they are going the right speed, they don't care that it may be 10 miles below the speed limit and a line of cars behind them wants to go faster Why did that person in front of you slam on their brakes for no fucking reason whatsoever? They decided they could slow down a little bit and rather then let the car simply slow down by taking your foot off the gas, they need to slow down right now!

A final analogy... the 405 is how I imagine the Wild West was. Anything goes on the roadway and you should only look out for yourself or you will end up dead... (queue the theme song from "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly" and fade out...)

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Orange County: The Magic Kingdom Part 2

Chapter Dos: How Did I Get Here?

When someone graduates college, I assume that they think of their career path. I say I assume because this is certainly not what I was thinking about, almost the opposite really. I had absolutely no desire to pursue a job utilizing my degree. Oh, it was a bachelors of science in Management Information Systems and a minor in Economics from the University of Rhode Island for those of you keeping score at home. All my friends who were graduating were discussing the jobs they were going to be trying to get. Dan was getting a job in the finance department of Verizon, Patrick was getting a job working for a Massachusetts congressman, and Paul was going to work for his father’s company. I could keep going but I know you don’t want to hear about it. Either do I, and that is what’s important. The only friend who wasn’t looking for something in the “real world” was Karim.

We were kicking around the idea of writing screenplays for quite some time now. Now that I was done with school, I could focus on such a task. I say now that I was done with school, because school is the one place that needs major focus yet it is physically impossible to generate any focus what so ever, but that is a whole other story to be told some day. Maybe if you fuckers buy this, then I can tell it. I digress, quite frequently actually, so back to the topic at hand. Karim wanted to finish a screenplay he had started. It was about halfway finished and I really wanted to see if I could ever put together a piece of writing as large as this. The longest thing I had ever written was a 10-page essay in college about the effect of the Internet on Economics. Quite the page-turner I can assure you, yet it lacked the level of fulfillment I was looking for. I kept thinking that my dad can write so why can’t I?

I needed to put together something massive. I started working with Karim on our little project. He did a very large percentage of the writing on this story, but I was involved enough where I developed a taste for it. We finished our screenplay and we couldn’t have been more excited. It was 92 pages long and the best screenplay ever written. It was going to change the movie industry as we know it. It had plot twists, action, humor, and great ending. We submitted it to Project Greenlight 2. We are two guys from Boston just as Matty D. and B-Lo are, how could we lose?

We didn’t make it past the first round of the screenplay portion of the contest. Some of the criticism was a little on the harsh side. “Is this a joke, I couldn’t get past the first 25 pages before I had to just stop reading....” This was not exactly making us feel too good about our work. I must admit though that not all the criticism was terrible. Some offered constructive comments which were very helpful, and I thank those people. However, we had to move on from this disaster. But where should we go? It was time for some magic to happen.

“We’re moving to California.” I remember those words so clearly. Karim wasn’t asking me if I wanted to move he was telling me that I was moving. What choice did I have? I had no career goals at the moment, I had broken up with my girlfriend of 4 years, and I was living at home (with my dad... I know, real smooth) on the east coast. It was clearly time to go.

We packed up and moved to Surf City USA, Huntington Beach. Driving out here was quite an experience, but it is not part of this story so I will spare you for now. We moved into our apartment here in OC on February 5th, 2003, a date that will live in infamy. We had arrived in Huntington Beach but what the hell do we do now. Karim had a job lined up before we left. He simply transferred from the Outback Steakhouse in Medford, MA to the one in Garden Grove, CA. Hey Garden Grove, just like in that Sublime song! It must be a really cool town.
People ask me why I didn’t move into LA if I wanted to be in the film industry. Well, the answer is quiet simple. I just moved from a big town with a lot of tradition and history. Why would I want to move to big town where people don’t give a fuck about you and the only history involves the Lakers or the riots? I would rather move to a town where the people are happy because all they want to do is surf, and when they can’t surf they just want to drink. This fits in perfectly with my views of life. Well not the surfing part because I can’t surf for shit, I should change that to say people are happy to do what they love, or drink when they can’t. I’ll leave both parts in for you to enjoy, kind of like a director’s cut on a DVD.

Orange County: The Magic Kingdom - Part 1

Orange County: The Magic Kingdom


Welcome to Orange County. Population 3,000,000 and constantly growing. People are moving here from everywhere, much to the chagrin of the current residents. New shipments of bodies arrive everyday. They move here seeking something. That something can be different for each individual, but they are definitely here for something. No one just packs up and moves here without a reason.

Why do they come here? Well I can’t answer that question for everyone, but I think I know why I initially came here. I moved here because I thought I could put a few screenplays together, sell them, and maybe even end up in the films themselves. How hard could it be right? It’s pretty amazing how fast a person losses track of their goals in this place.

Orange County is something of a mythical creature or an urban legend, to those who are from far away destinations such as myself. You hear some stories about this place, but you never actually meet anyone who lives or has lived here. This area is the stolen kidney from the back of the unlucky businessman. It sounds like a real place, but does it actually exist? I’ve even heard they have a castle located at the center of this undiscovered country.

It’s true what they say. About the castle I mean. Disneyland lies at the heart of OC. Oh sorry, OC means Orange County to the layperson. Don’t worry there will be many more things I will have to explain to you later. As I was saying, Disneyland is right smack in the middle of Orange County. Now it may not be located in the geographic center of this fair land, but it is definitely the source of the mystique that swallows this area whole. People think that Disneyland is just a theme park situated in the town of Anaheim. This is not even close to the truth. Disneyland’s borders actually surround the entire county. When you hit San Clemente from the south, Seal Beach from the North, or Brea from the West, you are now in the Magic Kingdom.

This sounds a little crazy, I know. However, if you give me time I will explain this to you. Disneyland is made up of separate towns each with a different theme. Orange County is set up this exact same way; these towns just have real names like Tustin, Santa Ana, Huntington Beach, and Westminster. People who live in Orange County know exactly what to expect when they go into these different towns. They know the themes of each area, just as a tourist at Disneyland looks at their map and know that if they go to Tomorrow land they get to see some futuristic shit. This is comparable to me going to Newport Beach and seeing cars that aren’t even available to the public yet or allowed on this continent. I can drive down the Pacific Coast Highway and stop at a light right next to a Qvale Mangusta being driven by an 18-year old girl. I know what you are thinking, what the fuck is a Qvale Mangusta? Well the only reason that I know what a Qvale Mangusta is because I read car magazines from time to time, and I have read an article on said vehicle. If you don’t know what a Qvale Mangusta is don’t worry, this means that you are perfectly normal. I can barely pronounce the damn thing, and I even know what the hell it is. This car would be like strapping yourself into space mountain and blasting off. Your only going to experience this type of shit in the Magic Kingdom
This example is just the tip of the iceberg with the mouse ears carved on top. I’ll try to share with you as many experiences as a good boy from Boston can remember.

Hello and welcome...

This is my 2nd foray into the wonderful world of web-logging.

I will use this space to ramble about everyday things in life and I will also post short-stories or documents that I have written and are working on.

Please provide comments on anything here you would like and I hope you stick around for awhile if what I post is interesting enough... so good luck to both of us I guess