Gutsy Chick.

I’m sure the show “Glee” is absolutely terrific, but it’s not exactly my cup of tea. If I wanna watch gay quarterbacks, I’ll just tune in to a Cowboy game.

But I am a fan of actors that take charge, and a friend of mine sent a link to this clip of Lea Michele in her audition for “Glee,” stopping and restarting the piano player after he’d messed up her song. She was mortified afterward that she’d been so bold, but the producers loved her for it, and cast her in the lead.

Click above and check it out. (Facebook readers click here.)

Best Of Luck.

I drove across country once, and it took me five years. For real. It included living a year in one city, and three in another. What I learned was this: you can tell a lot about a place by how well its Wal-Mart is run.

Speaking of long road trips, leaving LA for the first time and moving to Nashville is Laura, the main agent at my commercial agency. It’s a pretty bold move, considering Laura, one of the most respected agents in town, only visited Nashville once, for a weekend, and fell in love with it so much that she decided to drop everything and just go.

I’ve seen this particular itch before. People who grow up in LA sometimes have no idea that is the best city on earth, and need to go elsewhere to find out for themselves. Happens every time.

Don’t get me wrong – Laura deserves to be happy, and while she’s admittedly nervous about making such a spontaneous life choice, I admire her for it. Between heart and brains, the heart always wins. Or should.

My 800th Entry.

I can’t believe I’ve written this many entries so far. And by that, I mean I can’t believe I forced myself to write long-form on this damn blog 800 times. Maybe I’ll just use Shakey's Pizza marquees for the next 100.

For now, as is tradition, my five favorite entries since the last century mark:

Greetings From The New Shevin Family. I’m not sure which was more of a relief to remove: the Blue Man paint, or the wedding ring. Grab the jaws-of-life and go here.

The Cure For The Common Commercial Withdrawal. One more automotive tip I’ve learned: limit the sexting to only during red lights. Peek under the hood here.

Fiesta Hermosa In Hermosa Beach: A Blackberry® Photo Gallery. Apparently, I love a good photo gallery almost as much as I hate aquatic-themed art. Dive in here.

The Pilot Shoot: Day One. FYI: the Forum seat fits perfectly into a car trunk. Aid and abet me here.

The Ringling Brothers Circus: A Blackberry® Photo Gallery. If Toyota had given away the elephant flop, it would have been an upgrade. Enter to win here.

Come Back, Sir.

In what can only be described as a potential spinoff to “The Beverly Hillbillies,” my family took a trip to London a few years back. My dad had the biggest bout of culture shock, particularly one night as we tried to cross a street after dinner. The driving-on-the-opposite-side-of-the-street thing tripped him up, and he hesitated, so my mom dragged him across and snapped at him. My brothers and I cracked up, then turned to see a distinguished couple crossing from the opposite side, looking at us as if we were maniacs. And then we realized it was Gene Hackman and his wife.

I’ve been so wanting to work with Gene and mention that story, but it’s looking like I’ll never get the chance. Has anyone noticed that he hasn’t done a film in six years? He mentioned in interviews that he wanted to retire, and seems to really be sticking to his promise, and that kinda sucks. Somebody who knows somebody has to convince him to come back.

* * *

Hey – Friday’s here – best day of the week. With the exception of four or five people, I hope everyone in the world has a really great weekend.

Consider Me Enlightened.

I didn’t realize you stoners were this organized.

See It.

The Other Guys deserves an Oscar nomination.

I suppose my friends have now started entertaining the possibility that I’m being kept alive on a respirator in a secret hospital room underneath my house, with my body-double pretending to be me in public.

I’m very critical of all movies, and I think it's really great. And as long as the Academy has decided to reinstate nominating ten films for Best Picture, in this, a pretty thin year, it deserves a nod.

Will Ferrell, who wrote every sketch in which he appeared on “Saturday Night Live,” co-wrote this film, and it’s as funny as anything he’s ever done. I expected to laugh four times, and wound up laughing four dozen times.

One great scene in particular: Ferrell’s cop character, now on the lam, hides one night in bushes across from his home. To avoid suspicion by both staked-out cops and bad guys, Ferrell’s wife sends her elderly, Latina mother hobbling across the street with her walker to relay to Ferrell how much her daughter misses him. The tender message progresses into the filthiest husband-wife sex talk, and out of the mouth of this kindly, old woman, it's just hilarious and entirely original.

I always thought the day I spoke so glowingly about a screwball comedy would be the day I’d want to commit an unnecessary-roughness penalty on myself. Turns out I was wrong. See it in theaters.

Rainn and I Do A Vulcan Mind-Meld.

The highlight of my Monday – besides downloading my new Dr. Laura ringtone – was seeing actor Rainn Wilson’s latest blog post.

Not sure if I’m more thrilled that great minds think alike, or that I beat his ass by four months on my own blog.

Greatest Kegger Ever.

A theory: if you're in a crowded situation that could turn into a riot (say, after your team has clinched the World Series), and women aren't flashing their breasts, get out of there. I don't know if exposed breasts reflect a crowd's collective feeling, or if the presence of breasts eases a crowd's temper, but I do know this: no rack is trouble.

I like my get-togethers intimate. And that’s exactly what I lucked into the other night, when my friend Jenn made me her plus-one to a music exec’s house in the valley to see John Legend and The Roots, playing together in the exec’s living room.

It was all part of The Living Room Series, sponsored by Microsoft and CAA, and it was truly perfect; the kind of concert that'll ruin us lucky few who got to attend it for all other concerts. There we were – small room, sitting on the floor, listening to John Legend and the band jam. And talk about intimate – at one point during the final song, the homeowner’s Pug walked across the room and under the piano. John looked down at him, smiled and kept on singing.

It was my kind of musical experience: cozy, amazing, utterly memorable. I guess what I’m trying to say is, if you’re planning on having Kool & the Gang play your breakfast nook anytime soon, count me in.

Uncle Once Touched His Bum?

If anyone can explain why this lunatic in Koreatown ruined both his sedans by stenciling “PLEASE STAY OFF MY BUMPER” onto them, I’m listening.

Three Guys I’d Like To Choke.

I'm as calm and forgiving as Nelson Mandela, but with a desire to punch certain dudes in the throat. What I mean is I'm nothing like Nelson Mandela.

I love acting and I love actors, but there's something in my makeup that brings out my dangerously competitive when I see guys at an audition dressed exactly like me.

I’m not quite sure where this particular peeve stems from, considering auditions like the one in the pic above require guys to dress a specific way. (In this case, blue oxfords and khaki pants, or as I like to call it, “The Professor from ‘Gilligan’s Island’ style.”) When I see these guys, first when I drive up, taking my parking spot, then inside, rehearsing their lines with their stupid faces, it all has the potential to play out like the climactic scene from a mafia movie.

I’ve kept it in check. So far. Happy weekend.

I’m With Terry.

I’ve been busting my ass on my career lately. I wish I believed in a fifth quarter, but since I don't, I'll have to play hard and make the most out of regulation.

While pushing myself has been paying off, it's put a slight crimp in my studying for “Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader,” whose producers may be calling me in any day now. It’s also rendered me too busy today to put together a substantial entry, so I’m passing the buck to a fascinating gameshow-oriented article from the best magazine on the racks – Esquire – about a guy who recently had the only perfect bid ever on “The Price is Right” showcase showdown:

“TV’s Crowning Moment of Awesome”

Nobody’s Sherfect, Pithead.

One thing is for certain – I learn from my mistakes. So trust me when I tell you: not all hobos are friendly.

And I had a nice, new learning experience the other day, during an audition for Gold Bond Insurance. The commercial involved a family picnic, so I was brought in to the audition room with a wife and kids to see how we interacted. When the camera was pointed at me and I was asked to say my name and tell a little something about myself, I was interrupted by a Blackberry ringing. My Blackberry.

There I am, above, fumbling to shut it off. A pro's pro. Did I book the job? Hell no.

Nice going, Dad.

Yummers.

I realize it really isn't a good episode of “Man vs. Wild” unless the guy is forced to drink his own pee. But the producers oughta send that guy up La Brea Blvd. to Louisiana Fried, and its C rating. Until then, not impressed.

Wow.

I understand all aspects of disappointment. For example, biting into a chocolate chip cookie and realizing it's an oatmeal raisin cookie is kind of like finding out she's a dude.

Stay with me here. I already have a couple of good agents, but figured I’d also contact a manager and see if he’d be interested in representing me. He loved my website and my reel, and scheduled a meeting.

But then I booked a commercial, and had to postpone the meeting. And then I booked an infomercial, and had to postpone again. When the infomercial folks brought me back again, I asked to reschedule once more, and got this, from the manager’s assistant:

“Thank you for your interest, Matt, but we can no longer keep scheduling appointments. We wish you the best of luck in your career.”

Hey, Chickenshit – I kinda think me booking work is not only a valid reason to postpone, but all the more reason why you might want to share the wealth. I’ve booked all this work happily; imagine how I’m gonna do pissed off.

In a few months, why don’t you check back on what I’m up to. Then grab two brews and jump.

Shabbiest Chiq.

Homeless guy, rocking the swanky bedroom set off Crenshaw Blvd.

Once Again, Out-Of-Context Thank-You Notes I’ve Recently Written To Casting Directors.

• I’ll never get caught with porn on my computer. Unless you consider Facebook to be porn – then I’m going away for a LONG time.
• Seeing as I’ve spent over 400 bucks at NAPA Auto Parts since the audition, it’s safe to say the jingle they had me sing must be catchy.
• I have a special place in my heart for BMW – you always remember the first car you boosted.
• It’s been a lifelong dream of mine to be a filthy-talking cop that drinks, gambles, and chases women. Um… I mean play a cop who drinks, gambles and chases women. Yeah, play.
• I’ve come to find that when you beg a woman to see her tattoo, nine times of ten it doesn’t end well.
• So, me playing a guy who never had a job and has nothing to lose – that is just damn good casting.

I Give Credit.

Hollywood is a magical place. It can create a vivid, 3D, futuristic world. And a white cab driver.

My friend/improv classmate Michael Villar, above, is that cabbie, appearing now in John Mayer’s new video for the song “Half of My Heart.” You can catch him here in the final minute of the song.

Michael had a fun shoot, and said John Mayer is a really good guy. As they drove around downtown LA, making fake banter for the camera, John would say things like “Can you pull over there, I gotta take a shit.”

Michael, by the way, beat cancer recently, and the day after our first Upright Citzens Brigade graduation in May, he beat an insurance company in court, after they tried to reneg on about 30K in bills. Safe to make him an early nominee for Guy Who Had the Most Kickass 2010.

I Was Going To Convice My friend Ben To Move Out To Cali...

But I’ll just let the cute, dancing chick promoting the marijuana doc do it for me.

Is Your Peep On The Fritz? See Me.

Why a pit crew member to promote male enhancement? I suppose a guy that can change a tire in four seconds needs to SLOW IT DOWN in the sack.

The Extenze infomercial shoot went really well. Kevin Conway is super cool, and Jimmy Johnson is a bundle of energy. I was shocked when he said he was 67 – I pegged him for 55. And he was wearing one of his Super Bowl rings, and it was gigantic. When I asked him what year it was from, he said, “I don’t know, I just grabbed one on the way out the door.” May we all achieve a smidge of that success.

I stayed locked-in and gave my all yesterday, because the way I see it, if I can just help one old geezer pop wood for his trophy wife, I’ll have done my job.

Infomercial #3: This Time, It’s Boner Pills.

Enhance pleasure. Improve your sex life. Increase your size. Run for it, girls.

The infomercial people are loving them some me, and cast me in their third shoot in ten days. This time it’s for Extenz natural male enhancement, and no, I won’t be playing Flaccid Guy; I’ll be a pit crew member for spokesman/NASCAR driver Kevin Conway. And his co-spokesman, former NFL head coach Jimmy Johnson.

This infomercial work is a nice, unexpected turn in my career, and I plan on making more out of it than my predecessors. Seeing as Billy Mays did coke, and a hooker latched on to the ShamWow guy’s tongue, I think I’ll zig while they zag, and be the law-abiding infomercial guy. It’s actually kinda catchy.

This booking will also propel me past the other guy at my gym with a late-night TV credit. That's right – suck it, dude who ran into Chris Matthews on an episode of “To Catch a Predator.” (I’m not making this up.) By the way, you should probably avoid using Extenze, ace. That can’t end well.

You’re A Gentleman. And You’ve Got Top-Notch Sperm.

Allowing me to merge in rush hour traffic last night in Hollywood: John Bennett Perry, Matthew Perry’s dad.

Kickin’ Ass And Shootin’ Infomercials.

While squatting yesterday, I kinda lost track of my reps, but I’d imagine they were well into the 400 to 500 range. My butt may never walk again.

It was just another day in Hollywood – okay, Van Nuys – as I shot a role in my second infomercial for Alteril, this time along with Chuck Woolery and mixed martial arts fighter Tim Kennedy. I played a fighter, training in a gym – a fake gym/octagon built inside a studio.

Chuck, by the way, is super nice – friendly, likes to get to know the cast and crew – and is still a good-looking dude. He was everything you’d hope for in a game show host. I’ll say it before someone else comments it: yes, we had a love connection.

So to recap: I got paid to work out and hang out with Chuck Woolery and pro MMA guys.

Acting can be fun. Don't let it get around.

Gig Begets Gig.

Some people will be mean to you for no reason at all. I say just ignore them or sleep with their girlfriends.

Treating people with respect is exactly what I did when I shot the Alteril infomercial earlier this week. And it’s how I always handle myself on set – as the actor people will want to work with again.

Well, again came pretty damn quickly, as the folks who produced the infomercial asked me to come back and shoot another, tomorrow.

You know, when taken as directed, Alteril will give you the restful, deep sleep you need. And pay my rent.

Brett Favre Retired?

Does this mean no more pickup football games in jeans?

I’m available, Wrangler. Call my agent.

Take Two Of These And Do Not Drive This Beast.

I’m a firm believer in keeping a car spotless. No clutter – not on the seats, the floors or the dashboard. It may explain why someone recently got into my SUV for the first time and asked if it was a rental.

Yesterday, I got to spend the day with some classically pristine vehicles, as I shot my role in the infomercial for the sleep-aid Alteril. The location was a classic-car garage in Hollywood, where I played a mechanic who swears by the importance of a full-night’s rest.

Half my lines were delivered while leaning on this perfect, ’69 Camaro. The garage owner started it up for me, and it just snarled. I asked him if I could get that as a ringtone.

Great shoot. Excellent crew. And for all your sleeping needs, you cannot top the blissful goodness of Alteril. Trust me – I’m a mechanic.

Once Again, Hermosa Beach City Champs.

It’s becoming an annual event. And whenever we win, there are strippers and top-shelf liquor for everybody. (Okay, also when we lose).

The trophy never gets old, guys.