Friday, March 24, 2017

We All Celebrate In Our Own Way.

I call all dogs “puppies”, regardless of age. They seem to like it.

Yesterday was National Puppy Day, and Ricky spent it the way he spends every day: starting shit with me while I try to eat dinner. I haven’t had a warm meal in five years.

Thursday, March 23, 2017

Supporting An Actor.

I’m the kind of friend that will help you hide a dead body. But if you ever piss me off, just remember: I know how to hide a dead body.

I’ll spare my friend Ariel, because I owe him several dozen favors. Last night I paid one of them back, by helping put him put an audition on tape for a huge film.

By “huge” I mean the names in the scenes were changed to conceal characters, and the script had security settings that made it non-printable.

I’ve said too much. Glad I could help.

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Wanna Go Halfsies?

Please don’t come to my garage sale if you've ever let me borrow something.

Speaking of selling shit that isn’t yours, I passed by a shop on La Cienega the other day that’s selling the original sign from Paramount Studios. Want to own a piece of showbiz history? All you need is 30 grand.

You know who can afford it? Paramount Studios. How have they not snatched it up? Arrival grossed $197 million.

Wait – I checked. Paramount is looking to post more than $500 million in losses from 2016 and 2017.

Still, maybe they can throw a bake sale.

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

Games On.

I show up for my nephew’s Little League games because it’s important that he knows I’ll swear at other kids, too.

Opening day has arrived, and I’m glad it’s here. My brother is coaching my nephew’s team again, and I’m there Friday nights and Sunday mornings, always armed with gum.

It’s tradition for the cousins to share a moment between innings.

Obstructing my view is LA Clipper forward Brandon Bass, whose son is one of my nephew’s teammates. Every dad fawns all over Brandon during games. Less fanatic: the ump on the left, full of chutzpah, about to tell Brandon to get off the field and close the gate.

Monday, March 20, 2017

The Four Bars Of St. Pat’s Weekend.

Are potatoes so much healthier if they’re baked? My friend Greg is baked all the time, and he’s got diabetes.

Still, I loved kicking the weekend off with a baked potato bar. Then shifting gears to more appropriate St. Patrick’s Day bars – the ones offering liquor.

The Sunset Marquis is where all the biggest musicians stay while in town. Seal is there right now. It’s also where my friend Rob is staying while he shoots some commercials here. The back bar there is a hidden, outdoor, perfect spot across a little bridge in West Hollywood.

From there, we stopped by the bar at Barton G., which you may remember from last month’s post about the craziest dishes around. No food this time – only the outrageously decadent drinks. Best $46 buzz in town.

You can have your Taco Bell when you get the munchies, but for those of us who find the cheese to lettuce ratio way off, there’s Fig & Olive. We sat at the bar and had crab cakes and carrot and ginger soup. Even my stoned friend Greg would prefer it over a taco with a friend chicken shell.