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

• I always ask for a refill – especially when it’s my Vicodin prescription.
• Fishermen may be philosophers, but it’s almost impossible to buy decent tackle on a philosopher's salary.
• If the sign on the store’s counter said the sale was “one day only,” why was it laminated?
• If you ever forget what a girlfriend wanted for her birthday, don’t assume it was a Snuggy.
• Whenever I leave my woman in the car, I not only crack a window, but keep a roll of Tums in the glove compartment – in case she gets hungry.

Real Casting Notices I’ve Seen This Week.

• Major production company is looking for amazing singers with missing teeth.
• Looking for conjoined twins for a brand new prime-time show. Please email pictures if you are interested.
• Are you currently engaged, and going to miss celebrating with that special someone you lost in the 9/11 tragedy? Please send a current photo of you and your fiancé.
• Looking for heavily tattooed males who can sing.
• Two Male Dancers are needed as backup for a Madonna impersonator. **PLEASE NOTE YOUR EXPERIENCE**
• Do you have unusual dating habits or obsessions? Whether you are a Trekkie, fan of zombies, fan of vampires, love to wear diapers, atlasphere fans, furry fans, farmers, attracted to inmates, whatever it may be that is your passion or your hobby we want you!
• Person under 4’0” who is an excellent guitar player.

FYI:

No need to crack your knuckles before using the ATM, Chief.

30 Days In The Hole.

Tough weekend. My improv team is in major training. Like, for a month training. I went straight from a casting workshop to training, then woke up Sunday morning for my improv class. And now I think about all the fun things I had planned but didn't get to, like organizing my capes by “cape” and “cloak.”

The tiny space, pictured above, is where the training takes place. It’s drafty, smells like B.O., and is where my teammates say the funniest effin' things that make me laugh 'til my face hurts.

Come to think of it, it was a great weekend. Minus the B.O.

Genius.

My friend Jenn sent me this link the other day. Give the guy credit for pulling off the impossible: making clowns even creepier.

Inside The Actor’s Studio Apartment: Behind The Scenes.

Back in ’08, I was driving on the west side when I passed a blogger’s boner: Batman hawking window tinting. I quickly did a U-turn so I could get a pic, but in true Dark Knight fashion, he’d vanished. I cried like Tom Hanks in Castaway when he lost Wilson.

Luckily, a week later he was back, and I screeched to a halt and took the photo. He walked over to me and tried to shake me down for 50¢ for taking his pic. I found a quarter and flipped it to him. Hell yeah – I lowballed Batman, and the next day I posted.

Everyone have a great weekend. My plans include buying a new toothbrush tomorrow. My old one will be available soon at a Goodwill store by me.

My Kid Is An Honor Student.

Bump into a parent at a party, and it goes a little something like this: they spend the evening telling you how they don't sleep, their kids wake them up at 5 a.m., their kids keep getting them sick, they haven't left the house in three months, they can't find a good babysitter, they never have sex, and they don't have time to watch TV, follow sports, go to the movies or basically do anything at all. Really, it sounds fantastic.

On the other hand, boasting about your dog is more than fine.

Allow me: my week has been so busy that I’ve had a dog-walker take Petey out every day. Pete gets a report card each time, and so far, he’s the bestest non-stop tailwaggin’ Pit in all of Cali. I have written proof.

He must have a good dad.

I Know Smart People. I Swear.

I thought I suffered from ADD, but then I realized my friends’ stories just suck.

Actually, check that – not all my friends. Rob Weintraub is a guy I grew up with in New York, and he’s the living embodiment of the Most Interesting Man Alive.

Rob is a writer/producer, focusing mainly on sports. He’s lived long stretches in Australia and Hong Kong, visited every inch of Asia and once went diving in a shark cage. (Sharks are to Rob what monkeys are to me.) He’s the kind of guy who will be eating in a restaurant in some remote town when it suddenly gets held up at gunpoint. I’ve mentioned him before, and his hilarious take on the ESPN show “Fish On.” I’d kill for his writing skills.

And now, you can enjoy Rob in long form, as he’s written a book called The House That Ruth Built, chronicling the first championship of his and my beloved Yankees. Even if you’re not a baseball fan or a Yankee fan (de-friend me if you aren’t), you’ll love the book’s fascinating portrayal of New York in the 20s.

The book debuts April 4th, but you can pre-order it on Amazon or Barnes & Noble. Just after you put down the Us Weekly, or Juggs, or whatever the hell you’ve been perusing that has made me too ashamed to reply to your texts.

Helpful Hints. With Matt Shevin.

You’re driving along in Los Angeles, and some tough-looking guy pulls a bonehead move, like blocking you from pulling into a parking lot, or a parking spot. He sees you seething in your car, and decides to start in. What do you do?

Roll down the window, and call him the C-word.

Yes, the lady-parts C-word. He’ll completely shut down. You see, more psychotic wins – twice in the last month, in fact.

Now get out there and have a fantastic day.

The First Great Film Of 2011.

You have to wake up pretty early in the morning to fool me. Or by 3 p.m. if it’s a Saturday.

Yeah, it sure would be amazing to operate at full potential, which is why the premise for Limitless – a guy takes a pill that enables him to access 100% of his brain – was all that nine friends and I needed to get pumped to see it opening weekend.

And it turned out to be way more than just an interesting jumping-off point. This is a fast-paced thriller, shot in the style of Fight Club. It’s awesome.

The pill that Bradley Cooper’s character pops takes all of thirty seconds to turn him into a mental super-hero, capable of not only learning things rapidly, but recalling anything he’s ever seen or heard. However, it comes with a hefty price, both medically and criminally.

Interesting to note: there’s already something that’ll actually make you use negative percent of your brain: reality TV. So if you’ve been watching “Super Nanny,” or “American Idol,” (which will sink your brain capacity into negative triple-digits) go see Limitless, and get yourself back on the plus side.

Art Of The Title.

My friend Bru sent me this amazing title sequence culled from 100 years of films.

It made me want to make more movies. Or at least the first two and a half minutes of more movies. Click above, and enjoy.

On A Really Awful Note…

I’ve come to find that, religious or not, no one going through a tough time minds hearing the words “you’re in my prayers.”

My friend Denise’s brother Ken was piloting a plane that crashed in Long Beach yesterday. He didn’t survive.

Every now and then, life really sucks shit. Sorry, D.

I Ain’t Making This Up.

I had a nice honor bestowed upon me last night, as I was asked to join the improv team Master Sword. A talented, nutty bunch of guys. I don’t know why one of them is wearing a diaper, and to be honest, I really don’t want to know.

My already slammed schedule is about to go to DEFCON 1, as my teammates and I are going into a hell month of training sessions that’ll last three hours a night. After that we’ll be appearing on stages around L.A. And after that I’ll have the nervous breakdown I’ve been putting off. But I’ll regret nothing.

Get Your Own Gig, Rog.

People who are unoriginal are boring. There’s always someone who does what you’re trying to do better than you. It’s like a bad comic doing Al Pacino – I’d rather watch Al Pacino.

And yesterday, in an interview on ESPN, NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell did a really bad Matt Shevin. I did the raccoon-eyes shtick first, on my comedy reel, sir. Been done.

I’ll stick to comedy, and you stick to drama. And by drama I mean earning $10 million a year to oversee a lockout and not have games this season.

Stay out of my sun, Goodell.

I Wind Up Teaching An Online Class, And Don't Even Know It.

I’m constantly evolving. For instance, Bud Dry has totally replaced Keystone Light as my favorite driving beer.

And here’s part of an email I received yesterday:

You, my friend, are an aspiring actor’s dream.

I stumbled upon your blog last night, and then for the next five hours proceeded to read every single post from February, 2008 up til your last entry. I took down two pages of notes while reading. Dude, you're hilarious, informative, and such a great writer. I moved to California last year from Virginia. My passion is acting. I'm not out for fame, I would just die to be able to do what I love for a living: act (and recognition would be nice, too : ) ). All this to say, I'm wondering what advice you would have for me? I really have no idea how to get started.

Thanks again for all the valuable information.

Keep on keeping on,
Emily

How about that? I start out with the wiener jokes, and wind up inspiring. Sharks have been jumped.

Sorry, Charlie.

I’ve had relationships that were a lot like porn movies – lots of hot sex, and lots of bad plot and dialogue.

And speaking of porn, I feel the need to bust Charlie Sheen’s balls once more. (He’ll be dead within six months, so I’m just being proactive.) For starters, I hardly think paying for sex is “winning,” dude.

Also, this: driving onto the CBS lot the other day, I was the very first visitor for a brand-new guard who was being trained by a senior guard. I kidded with the older guard, telling him to make sure his trainee didn’t let Charlie Sheen through. Not kidding, the older guard said the powers that be at CBS instructed him to absolutely not allow Charlie on the premises.

So, I’m allowed on the lot, and he isn’t. Phase one of my plan to replace him is complete.

Phase two, have everyone on Twitter unfollow Charlie Sheen today. It just feels right.

Shevin's List.

The Japan earthquake/tsunami is having repercussions all the way here in California, where the waves are a little bit larger than usual, and growing.

Pants, meet shit.

You see, I live rather close to the water, and would really have to haul ass if things got hairy. So, I figured I outghta plan in advance what to grab on my way to dry land. Here they are, in order:

• iPhone
• Toilet paper
• Goldfish S’Mores
• Zubaz pants
• Petey

You Maniacs! Damn you!

I don’t have a lot of rules when it comes to wardrobe, except this: there's nothing scarier than a drunk guy in a New York Rangers jacket.

And there's nothing better than a guy in a gorilla suit. Finally, for the first time since my friend Gregg weighed in on the merits of gorilla suit ownership, it happened – a casting call this week was looking for an actor that owns one.

I'm kicking myself for not listening to Gregg when I had the chance. Oh well – I still can cash in when a film needs an actor with a Gnomeo & Juliet costume. Mine will eventually pay for itself.

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

• I’m not so much Jewish for the business and holidays as I am for the food and medical care.
• I often use the Detective Fitch interrogation technique on my dog after “incidents.”
• Carrying 500 grams of meth and a snubbed .38 in my car seemed like a good idea at the time.
• I would never watch the first season of “Felicity” after a breakup. (I’m more of a “Gilmore Girls” griever.)
• Talk about a fear of death – I won’t even go near brown bananas.

A Truckfull Of Goodness.

After having spent last week in the most horrible place on earth – no, not Ikea on a Saturday – battling a bacterial infection, I finally feel about 98%.

Normally a chain eater, I had no appetite for several days, and lost about five lbs. Not the good kind of 5-lbs., either – more like the Auschwitz kind. Which made it all that much nicer as I exited CBS Radford Studios yesterday and encountered perfection: Cool Haus, a food truck featuring gourmet ice cream sandwiches.

I choose my ice cream, then my cookie, from a great menu that includes a vegan chocolate chip cookie (though I believe eating it with ice cream cancels out its vegan-ness.) Even the wrapper it’s served in is made from edible cellulose.

This is a snack so rich, it should not be eaten, but snorted through a rolled-up C-note. Track down the truck in LA and enjoy.

One Last Time Around The Bases Before He Files For Unemployment.

Give credit to the folks at “Two And a Half Men.” They gave Charlie Sheen chance after chance, hanging on like linebackers trying to keep fate out of the end zone.

Yet Charlie is too angry, too crazy, too addicted, too much, and yesterday he was officially shitcanned from my ultimate dream job: star of a hit sitcom. Judging by every conversation at every table around us during lunch at Mammoth over the weekend, he’s officially captured the attention of all men. (Though he really lost my mom with the anti-Semitic stuff.)

I kind of just feel bad for him, so I'll cheer him up with this, a video I really fell for a few years back. Click above, and check out Charlie going deep at Dodger Stadium in between takes of a directv commercial. Sweet swing.

Weekend In Mammoth: An iPhone™ Photo Gallery.

Rather than dress in animal costumes on the slopes like these attention whores, my friends are more the types to choke these guys with their own animal costumes.

This gorgeous shot, taken from our SUV at 80 mph, is not only fitting of my first iPhone photo gallery, but a reason to dig out my old Blackberry and smash it with a club hammer.

Winning.

Talk about your cinematic injustices – first The Town gets snubbed by the Academy, then this DVD of The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 winds up in the $2.99 rack of a gas station in Mojave, CA, and I’m really just… oh, wait… that actually seems about right. Carry on.

My View.

When you can see the gondola from your kitchen in the morning, that’s a good thing.

Also good: taking off for the weekend. Friends that are so funny that you have to step up your game. Climates different from your norm. Downhills steep enough to question your belief in God. Meals that are a bit pricey but really worth it. The greeting you get from your dog when you get back. Plans to do it all over again.

You may not realize how much you need a vacation, until you actually take a vacation. Take one.

50 Degrees Colder, And 11,000 Feet Higher.

This ten-foot drift is the first thing we step into when we leave our swanky condo… Anyone else wondering why, after I bitched so much about the snow on my last trip, I chose to go right back to it on my next one?... You pass through lots of quirky, little towns on the way here (Translation: lots of meth labs.)… Before I left yesterday, I finally went to the doctor and found out I have a bacterial infection. Sure would hate to be the four guys here with me.

Where The Beer Flows Like Wine.

Today, I’m leaving Los Angeles for Central California. (First sentence of the worst detective novel ever.)

Actually, I’m going skiing at Mammoth, and very much looking forward to a mini vacation. I’m keeping it short so I can get back in time for my Sunday improv class. (#winning.)

I’ll take the blog with me, though Internet will be iffy. I’ll try writing/posting via iPhone.

Everybody behave while I’m gone, and I’ll bring you all back something nice.

I Apply For His Job.

Just when you think Charlie Sheen can’t top himself, he comes up with the Funniest Thing Anyone Has Ever Said in the History of Ever.

He’s the career equivalent of a million Hindenburgs. And now, I take advantage, by asking Chuck Lorre to let me replace him. (That’s if Chuck forgives me for parking in his spot.)

Occasionally, people say I look Charlie Sheen, but I’d like to think that’s where the comparison ends. My argument is threefold:

1. I work cheap. Charlie made $2 million per episode, I’d do it for as little as $1.9 million. For me, it’s about the work.
2. I’m drug free. Though the last few days, my body is two-thirds Robitussin.
3. I’m hooker free. Paying for sex? I have trouble asking for extra ketchup at McDonalds.

I rest my case. Your move, Chuck.