Friday, August 26, 2016

Last Licks.

I once found a Cheerio in my couch and thought, “That’s odd. I don't have any Cheerios in the house.” And then I ate it.

I’m ashamed to admit how old the couch is, but let’s just say it already had a lot of mileage on it back when it was in my older brother’s fraternity. It’s seen things.

Believe me, I would have replaced it a long time ago, but with a Pit Bull that sleeps on it, loves to knock the cushions off it, and uses it as a giant napkin every time he finishes dinner, I was in no rush.

But lately, I worried I’d come home to find a Fabreeze commercial being shot in my living room, so I went out and bought a nice, new couch, and it’s being delivered tomorrow. Ricky gets one last night on the old one, and then it’s going the way of bulky-item pickup.

Lots of good memories. I slept on that couch many times. (Which is odd, because I’m not even married.) The makeout sessions. The great movies and TV I watched while sprawled out on it. It’s the end of an era. A lumpy, slobbery, threadbare era.

Thursday, August 25, 2016

Time For My Midterm.

I want to become a professor, write a terrible book that no one wants, then force my students to buy it for 80 bucks each.

The complete antithesis of my professorial style is Aaron Sorkin. He’s my favorite writer, and right now my favorite teacher. I’m halfway through his online master class, and so far it’s incredible.

Aaron is thoughtful and brilliant and really loves writing, and he shares everything he’s learned about story and characters. He made the bold promise that at the end of this class, everyone who takes it will become an excellent screenwriter.

It’ll be interesting to dive back into writing my sitcom, and see how my skills have progressed from my typo-laden, limerick style to somewhat tolerable. Can’t wait.

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

So This Is How I Die.

Of all the horrible ways to die, I think healthy eating sounds the most painful.

I’m gonna go quickly – at a high speed that is – with my newest toy. My electric Razor scooter was fun for a while, but I began to yearn for more. The breaking point came on July 4th, when I rode it down the strand to a party, and afterward, it ran out of juice, and I had to push it all the way home.

My neighbor, who has a fleet of scooters and motorcycles, warned me not to fall into the trap of wanting stronger, faster, more powerful. But that’s exactly what I did. Last night, it arrived: the limited-edition, Hyper Racing Gold 2000 scooter. 2000 watts. It goes 40 miles an hour. I took it out for a ride and it hauled ass. I passed cars.

Unlike the Razor, whose charge only lasts 40 minutes, the 2000’s lasts ten miles. And it’s not just fun – it’s practical. I can give my SUV an occasional break, because I have the Tesla of scooters. It has a key ignition, and a super strong headlight and taillight, and a really loud horn. And, unlike the Razor, it has so much torque that getting up the hills by the beach is no longer a problem. It’s actually made to go off-road. I love it.

I woke up this early morning and raced it down PCH, and it was the closest feeling an adult could have to Christmas morning. At the very least, I’m going to break a wrist. Eh – ride and/or die.

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Keep It Shorter. Keep It Shorter. Keep It Shorter.

This weekend, I’m taking my niece and nephew to see Pete’s Dragon. Anyone know how long it is? I need to know what time to pick them up.

Let’s talk about length. Like I did recently with my friend Michael Rutherford, who is a writer/director. Michael wanted to know what I thought about an idea he had to make shorter movies. Not short films, but full-length films that were 45-50 minutes long.

I thought it was a great idea. Why do movies have to be at least 90 minutes long? Because that’s the way they’ve always been done? That’s not a valid reason. Many good things in life evolved for the better because someone finally questioned them. People thought electric guitars would ruin music. Not so much. Apple created computers so simple, they didn’t need user manuals. High-jumpers went face down for years, until Dick Fosbury invented the flop, broke the Olympic record, and no one jumped face-down after that.

After Michael and I talked, I must have had my radar up, because I started seeing that he was on to something. Check out these guys from “What the Flick?!”, as they reviewed an episode of “The Night Of”. Or Jerry Seinfeld, in an interview in Esquire this month about “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee”, said: “The freedom of the Internet was extremely attractive to me. If a movie director or producer was free to put out a movie that lasted for 48 minutes because that’s all they had, movies would be so much better.”

I say go for it, Michael. Make perfect, air-tight movies. Change things for the better.

Monday, August 22, 2016


I don’t technically “save room” for dessert. I just stuff it in there and pray I don’t have an accident.

The highlight of a very good weekend: the Italian hamburger, my favorite dessert from my favorite restaurant in LA: Son of a Gun.

So now the rest of this week can only be a letdown. But let’s all try to have a good one anyway. Okay? Okay.

Friday, August 19, 2016

I Want This Job.

How do you improve even the most menial labor? Gameify.

Thursday, August 18, 2016

The Conspiracy Grows.

The best revenge is living well. Unless you own a flamethrower.

Here’s hoping it doesn’t get to that, but something is definitely up. After I posted yesterday about someone possibly sticking nails and a metal chunk in my tires, my friend Pat linked to a pic of a screw in his motorcycle tire. Pat’s hunch is that this about something we must have done in Denton Hall, our dorm in college. I like this theory.

So then the question is whether this is like the film Diner, in which Tim Daly punches former high school bullies as revenge for him getting beaten up during a baseball game in eleventh grade. Or, is it more like Munich, in which a Mossad team leads an assassination mission against 11 Palestinians responsible for the massacre of Israeli athletes at the ’72 Olympics.

Am I paranoid? No. I don't even know what that word means. I don’t have time to learn new words – people are out to get us.