Friday, October 20, 2017

It Begins.

Opening any day now, right down the street from me, is a brand-new Shake Shack. The proximity to my gym is both troubling and comforting.

I thought it blasphemous when Shake Shack first arrived in LA, in West Hollywood, and my friend Jason claimed the burgers were better than In-N-Out. I’ll be damned, but he was right. They’re amazing.

So are the crinkle-cut fries, the chicken shack sandwich and the shakes. But this weekend, I’ll be enjoying a burger just the way I like it: drunk, on the floor, David Hasselhoff-style.

Wednesday, October 18, 2017

Act III.

I want to have the kind of hope my dog has when my nephew walks around eating chips.

The anticipation is building as I see my sitcom’s finish line. I’ve written seven episodes, and am now choosing two to hone and produce. It’s a beast. Ask your doctor if Adderall can help you vigorously scrub your floors and alphabetize your clothing instead of writing.

Back to work.

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Greatness Does Await.

I feel like being in a fraternity is like being a Yankee fan – it's super cool until you realize everyone HATES THE YANKEES.

And right now, the Yanks have overcome all the odds (they were picked to come in last place while the team was being rebuilt) and are playing to get into the World Series.

But playoff baseball, with the threat of elimination constantly looming, is tough on the tummy. Win, and you’re relieved. Lose, and we self-swaddle.

Still, it’s my favorite time of the year. And those around me root for the Yankees if only to ensure I’m more bearable to be around.

Game 4 this afternoon. Pre=game Zantac at 4:30. Join me.

Monday, October 16, 2017

It Got Ugly.

Vodka giveth and vodka taketh away. It giveth me a hangover, and taketh away my pants.

I swear it started out nicely, in front of the fireplace at The Wellesbourne, but progressed to me waking up still drunk so I could get in a workout in before the Jets game. (10 a.m. games in California are mostly a blessing, occasionally a curse.)

By the time the game began, so did my hangover. Along with my breakfast burrito at Sharkeez, I thought, “Surely this single glass of water will reverse what I did to my body last night.”

 Not so much. But in retrospect, worth it. Hope you’re weekend was semi-memorable, too. 

Friday, October 13, 2017

Rewrite.

I stopped by this car commercial shoot to let them know that “German engineering” is a major reason why I grew up without any cousins.

Thursday, October 12, 2017

Owie.

An open wound, and me without a salt shaker.

I kid. I would never do that to my friend John Kapelos. He’s in Toronto right now, shooting a film, and texted me this pic with the message, “Cut myself shaving.”

I replied: “But I shoot with this hand”: