Tuesday, April 22, 2014

I Regret Everything.

Quentin Tarantino hasn’t lost his fastball one bit. In fact, I think his films have gotten even more intelligent over the years, while still featuring his trademark violence. The plantation shootout in Django: Unchained made everyone in the theater an accessory to murder.

So I got a nipple hardon the second I read there was going to be a true once-in-a-lifetime Hollywood event this past Saturday: a staged reading of Quentin’s new script, The Hateful Eight. I really wanted to attend, but because it was a Holiday weekend and my all of my friends were either out of town, on shoots or simply not game enough to shell out the big bucks (face-value tickets were $100-$200, and going for $8000 on eBay), I skipped it. Sure, I could have gone by myself, but I have an aversion to attending movies, events and ballgames by myself. They’re all better attended communally, or so I thought; from all accounts, I should have sucked it up and gone solo.

What made the reading extra special was that the script was considered gone forever after one of Quentin’s friends leaked it online and Quentin decided to punish us all by vowing to never let it see the big screen. But he must have softened recently (sorta – he’s going to court over it in January), deciding to work on a new draft and have it read live to an audience who promised to leave their cell phones in their cars.

The cast included Bruce Dern, Samuel L. Jackson and Kurt Russell, who read the leading role of The Hangman. One by one, each character was violently killed off as the audience cheered on with fervor – they were hateful, after all – and Quentin, dressed in a Stetson and cowboy boots, served as both narrator and harsh director, stopping the cast at times and scolding them for improvising and drifting away from his script.

From all the articles I’ve read, the script was excellent, Quentin said he was going to write a third draft, and The Weinstein brothers, who’ve produced all of his films, were in attendance. All signs point to this movie being made, and that’s a very good thing. I’ll be there with Kevlar on.

Monday, April 21, 2014

In Which I Ate, Drank And Landscaped.

At Oaks Tavern, show some respect, and have your drinks roofied away from the felt.

However, if Oaks was angling for a five-point Yelp rating, it had me at the karaoke version of “I’m on a Boat.”

I believe the term is “mono-eater.”

Since Ricky’s been doing his best Pigpen impression lately, I filled his favorite dirt patch with simulated wood chips. (Rubber doesn’t attract insects and I figured it would be comfier.) But Rick is one ungrateful bastard.

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Booked It.

Hey, did you ever get that job you talked about for weeks then abruptly stopped mentioning?

Risky talking about it, for sure, but I did it – last week, after an audition. I had a good feeling about it, I’ll be damned if I didn’t get the good news yesterday. I booked a role in a very good film called Road Hard. I can’t say too much about the plot, but my character’s name is Walter, and I shoot my scene soon, and I’m really excited.

The universe conspires. I owe it one.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Oh Bloody Heaven.

I donate blood in the hopes that mine will overpower my recipient and take control of his body so I will gain another vessel to call my own.

Actually, I donate every eight weeks simply because I can. People need it. Currently, only 1 in 30 people give blood, but 1 in 3 people will need blood in their lifetime.

This is my annual Red Cross plea. Do the math – if 1 in 3 need it, you’re gonna need it. So why not give? I understand if you don’t like needles, but trust me when I say they don’t hurt. The only painful part is being forced to watch Queen Latifah interview Ru Paul in the snack area. That’ll make you pass out.

And yummy snacks indeed, thanks to Keebler. Hey, they were generous enough to donate Chips Deluxe and EL Fudge – so you can part with a simple pint. Okay? Okay.