On Saturday, my friends (above is me and my friend Bru) and I shot a little something for a contest we’re entering. And by “little” I mean it involved guns and green screens and motorcycles. Details to come… Ate at Robert DeNiro’s restaurant Taste, and it was excellent. I highly recommend the crispy parmesan chicken paillard and the chocolate parfait devil’s food cake. Also – try to keep the phrase “little bit, little bit” to a minimum during the meal… Waiting for a casting workshop to begin, I heard an actress mention she went to Penn St., and I laughed out loud. She was super pissed at me, then proceeded to tell me Joe Paterno died of a broken heart (or criminal negligence – tomato, tomahto) and that she named her dog JoePa. I laughed in her face. And then, of course, the casting director happened to partner us up to do a scene together. So I apologized and nailed our scene and she forgave me. All good. But change the name of that damn dog, crazy woman… Joe Paterno is the only person ever who died of lung cancer and got off easy.
