Friday, August 29, 2014
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
• My fantasy is to deliver a eulogy in which I simply say “So what?”
• The only way to know a teen in a movie is ashamed to be out with his parents is to have him wearing headphones.
• The Egyptians didn’t worship cats nearly as much as the Internet.
• I’ll never forget where I was the day I learned to add page numbers to a word doc.
• Not being able to sleep is the new sleep.
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
I got 99 problems, but I’m avoiding them all.
My friend John Kapelos, however, is taking them head-on. Check out the video he created last night from his hotel room in London.
Monday, August 25, 2014
That’s pretty much all I know about having or raising kids. But I do understand better about a child leaving the nest, thanks to Rob Lowe. He wrote a very enlightening chapter in his latest book about dropping off his older son at college for the first time last year, and how bittersweet it was for the whole family. I gave the book to my friend John, who just flew across the country to drop his older daughter off UConn.
In the midst of their trip, John’s family went out to eat, and above their table was Rob Lowe’s signed headshot.
Now, I don’t really believe in signs from the universe, but if I did, that sure was something.
Saturday, August 23, 2014
A good article was trending yesterday featuring my friend Ted Melfi, who directed the first movie I wrote, about how he infiltrated the panic-room level reclusiveness of Bill Murray.
Friday, August 22, 2014
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Personally, I use it for good, not evil. And because I was in the world’s longest pre-production meeting yesterday, and didn’t have time to write a proper blog entry, I instead offer some of the more interesting things I’ve found lately while surfing. Click on each one:
After sheep are shorn, they’re sometimes outfitted in Lycra suits to keep them warm.
New York’s Holland Tunnel used to have a police catwalk car.
I want to adopt this kid.
Take a gander at how roomy airline flights were in the 50’s.
Have you heard about the practical joke/drink the Cement Mixer, which curdles in your stomach to induce vomiting?
And finally, Adidas designed sneakers to look like they were worn in mud.
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Thanks, douche. Nonetheless, the man loved his ancient Italian art collection, and really wanted to share it with the public. It’s housed in a perfect setting in Malibu, and my mom was in town, so we spent the afternoon there. Some thoughts:
Monday, August 18, 2014
Saturday, August 16, 2014
Friday, August 15, 2014
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
But at least they can instantly-watch an amazing new HBO documentary called 112 Weddings. 20 years ago, Brooklyn documentarian Doug Block decided to supplement his income by becoming a wedding videographer. After he’d shot over 100 ceremonies, he decided to merge both of his worlds and contact all of the couples he’d shot. His idea: see what had become of their relationships and how it would affect his view of marriage.
Only eight couples agreed. (Let’s assume over 50 were no longer together, nor interested in rehashing what went kablooie for them.) The eight that participated ranged from somewhat happy to downright miserable. To his credit, Block remained unbiased; he was genuinely interested in the dynamics of marriage.
What were utterly fascinating were the instant jumps in footage of young, thin, euphoric newlyweds to older, fatter, benumbed housemates. I got an extra big kick out of realizing the wedding video of the most doomed couple was shot at my mom’s country club. You’ll always have that piggyback ride Steve gave you out the doors of Braeburn CC, Sue.
The movie may unfortunately no longer be on HBO On Demand, but keep an eye out for it to return, or become available on Netflix. See it with a fiancé you lust.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Monday, August 11, 2014
Saturday, August 9, 2014
Friday, August 8, 2014
Thursday, August 7, 2014
And lately, I’ve been wearing my iPhone down to a nub. But busy is the best, even if it’s prolonging my latest comedy shoot.
It seems incongruous that a short film is taking a long time to finish, but in addition to me working on several other writing assignments, my friend Chad and I wrote a lot of setups into the short. Which requires a lot of days. And along the way, we came up with a bit that we love so much, it set the bar super high. Which requires more ideas and more days. (The best problem you can have.)
Eventually, we’ll wrap. I think this one’s a winner.
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
So I’ll turn my focus on Zoe’s next five roles, so at least one of us can complete the Roy G. Biv spectrum:
Red: Red She-Hulk
Yellow: Lisa Simpson
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
Monday, August 4, 2014
Friday, August 1, 2014
He grew up in Canton, OH, but embodied everything a New Yorker is supposed to be: tougher than shit, always played hurt, was the first to defend a teammate. You crossed him, and you were done for. One summer, Cadillac gave Thurman and his teammate, Catfish Hunter, a car to share. As they walked to the players’ parking lot late one night, the car had been vandalized, and Thurman, incensed, whipped out a gun and began firing it into the shadows around the lot. Catfish had to wrestle the gun away.
He was all man. Which meant he wasn’t exactly known for his sartorial splendor. I love the pic above of him walking into the stadium in flip-flops. Once, in Manhattan, Thurman had his family with him as he was putting gas in his car. A guy pulled up and, not recognizing Thurman, who was dressed in a ratty, flannel shirt, asked him to fill up his tank. Thurman did.
My friend Jeff once went to New York and brought me back a Yankee t-shirt with Thurman’s name and number on the back. Any time a Yankee fan saw me wearing it, I got a knowing nod. One time I had it on while I was walking my dog, and a mom pushing her 18-month old daughter in a stroller passed me. I heard a little voice from the stroller say “Yankee shirt.”
But for all his gruffness, Thurman was a devoted family man. While his teammates all screwed around on their wives, Thurman never would. He got so homesick for his wife and kids that he bought a plane and learned to fly, so that on off-days he could visit them as much as possible back in Canton. It was in that plane, soon after he purchased it, that he crashed, 600 feet short of a runway. He had two passengers – his flight instructor and a friend – on board with him, and both were burned but survived. Even if Thurman had lived, he probably would have been a quadriplegic. As he lay there, trapped in the crash with his neck broken, his last words were fittingly unselfish: “Are you guys okay?” he asked his buddies.
No one from New York has been okay ever since.