Set Your Digital Video Recorder.

Mel Brooks has a standup special on HBO tonight.

Mel – you’re 88 years old. What have you done with your life?

Memory.

Last week, when I wrote about the off-campus apartments near my college being leveled, I mentioned I had a picture of my girlfriend at the time sitting with me on the front steps. I found it last night. Check out a young Matt Shevin with his whole life ahead of him.

By the way, if you love someone, set them free. And then follow their life without you on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram for eternity.

Katy Perry Ain’t Got Nothin’ On Them.

The tinier the dog, the crazier the lady.

Puppies are the exception, naturally, and there was a super adorbz goings-on yesterday, as I got to be a part of a promotional visit by two puppies for Sunday’s Puppy Bowl.

Uber delivered Mork and Mindy, who are brother and sister, and at three months, still feeling their way around. Mindy ran right into that glass wall, not knowing it was there.

The Puppy Bowl airs during halftime, and features several Pits. Bet the over.

Not Necessarily For Hire.

Putting tons of bumper stickers on the back of your car is great for telling people what sucks about you.

I hope My friend Ariel doesn’t defile his brand-new pride and joy: a 2015 Chevy Tahoe. Really nice.

However, when I went over to see it on Saturday, I realized the only problem is that it’s 2015 – and every jumbo, black SUV is presumed to be an Uber vehicle.

Sorry, bro. Next time just buy a bright yellow Prius.

Edit Complete.

I’m always a little disappointed when I walk away from my car and it doesn’t explode after I press the lock button.

Damn you, Hollywood. But on the bright side, here in LA, I just locked picture on my latest comedy short. All that’s left is the opening and closing titles, and then I send it off to my friend John Hunter, elite composer, to score the film.

Then I quickly have a kid, so I have someone to refer to as my hero in acceptance speeches.

Aversion Therapy, 125% Goodness And Pot Committed.

Someone either purged or spilled this in a parking garage stairwell. A great test as to whether chicken parm is still my favorite food.

I used one of my new headshots for the very first time in a casting working. The casting director intimated she liked it.

I like to play forecast poker. Yesterday, my friend Emma, who lives in Connecticut, opened with this.

I countered. Straight flush.

Hell Yeah There’s Culture In LA.

Actually, I have no idea what this is, but my friend John Kapelos and I are totally going.

Everything You Love Eventually Must Die.

I don’t call it “hanging out.” I call it “texting with friends in real life.”

But there was a time when we really did get together. In college. I went to the University of Maryland, and I really lucked out. I had the full college experience, and made a shitload of friends whom I’m close with to this day.

Some of the more reckless memories occurred in the Knox Boxes – apartments on Knox Road, just off campus in College Park. We drained kegs blasted music and guaranteed we’d never see our security deposits returned. I have a great picture somewhere of my girlfriend at the time and I sitting on steps just like the ones above on my 22nd birthday.

But now, a developer has decided to level the Knox Boxes, and replace them with the very swanky “Knox Village.” Residents were offered $500 gift cards to soften the eviction.

Time to pour a 40 oz. Milwaukee’s Best for my homies. Progress. Sucks.

I Vote For The SAG Awards.

Someday I’d like to get so thin that Matthew McConaughey tries to play me in a movie.

He was an easy choice for best actor in a drama series for his role in “True Detective.” The real bitch was settling on the best cast in a motion picture. I finally decided Eddie Redmayne and Felicity Jones put The Theory of Everything over the top.

I love the SAG Awards. Acting categories only. Entire casts recognized. It’s shameful that I waited until today, the day before deadline, to cast my votes. But, eh – I ALWAYS bring my fairly adequate game, son. (Drops mic.)

My New Headshots.

Don’t mess with someone taking a photo with their iPad, because they're already at rock bottom and have nothing left to lose.

I stick with the pros. And I went to one of the best headshot photographers in town for these brand new shots.

 

Three-Day Happy Haps.

It’s been a little bit since I’ve written about why everyone should donate blood. I did it Saturday afternoon, and I promise it pinches a little and makes you slightly light headed, but it’s a really good thing. Like being slapped across the face with a surprisingly tasty fish.

That night, drinks at Bar Stella. The cocktails are really pricey, but lucky for me I showed up light-headed, and was an easy buzz.

After donating blood, be sure not to do any heavy lifting for 24 hours. I limited myself to tinier stuff, like this short rib slider at Black Market Liquor Bar. Crazy delicious.

We’ll Draw Blood Our Way, Thanks.

While donating at the Red Cross on Saturday, I noticed the above sign, and felt impelled to ask: Why? Guns and light-headedness totally mix.

Yes, Woman Who Just Cut Me Off.

I’m sure your mirror spontaneously broke off.

Thanksgiving Leftover.

The chemistry between me and any kind of food is just… whoa.

But I’m nothing compared to the dude getting a ride in the back of this ambulance. I’d forgotten about taking this pic on Thanksgiving day, around noon, as I was on my way to my brother’s house. Someone called 911 for what I can only assume was some acute gastric condition caused by overeating. Hero.

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

• People listen to Hozier for the same reason they buy chamomile tea.

• A question for people who bite straight into Oreo cookies: How?

• Everyone on a flight is technically a flight attendant.

• 11 minutes and no boobs. Risky opening gambit, “Game of Thrones,” but I’m intrigued.

• Sorry I was late. I asked an elderly person how their day was.

• How about an ugly Christmas sweater contest, and the winner gets to explain the concept to homeless people?

My Ten Favorite Movies Of 2014.

Is there going to be a third Traveling Pants movie? Asking for ME. ASKING FOR ME.

I do love films. And before the Oscar nominations are announced tomorrow, here are my picks for the best from this past year:

1) Boyhood. My favorite. The 12-year thing isn’t simply a gimmick; it’s fascinating. I wish I’d thought of it.

2) Whiplash. Holy shit this movie is so good. If you haven’t seen it yet, and you get to watch it for the first time, I’m genuinely jealous.

3) Gone Girl. You almost have to feel for Rosamund Pike – she’ll never get to play a role this good again.

4) The Grand Budapest Hotel. My favorite comedy of the year. It made me wish someday I could stay in an elegant, European hotel overrun by Nazis.

5) Edge of Tomorrow. Best sci-fi film in a long time. If you love Tom Cruise, you’ll love this movie. If you hate Tom Cruise, you get to watch him die 50 times.

6) Begin Again. A bit of a fairytale (Mark Ruffalo’s character always finds a parking spot right in front of wherever he’s going in Manhattan,) but a really sweet romantic musical comedy nonetheless.

7) Birdman. The movie features takes that can be ten minutes long, and the cast would practically crap their pants when it got to be nine minutes in and they didn’t want to be the actor who missed a line and ruined a scene. Super inventive.

8) Blue Ruin. A terrific independent thriller about revenge with a entirely unknown cast. (Except an odd cameo by Eve Plumb, who played Jan on “The Brady Bunch,” and is extra white-trashy in this.)

9) The Theory of Everything. You’ll cut your Stephen Hawking jokes by a third when you see the story of him being overpowered by his disease, and the woman who refused to bail on him.

10) The Imitation Game. Nobody could beat the Germans’ ass in WWII. Except a gay mathematician with a wicked case of Asperger’s.

I Choose To Choose For My Own Damn Self.

Things were said. Feelings were hurt. Your car was set on fire. My point is: you’re wrong, and Raphael isn’t the best Ninja Turtle.

You’re entitled to your own opinion, even if it’s wrong. I watched the movie Runner Runner last night. It came out last year, and I remembered the trailer had looked really cool, but I couldn’t remember why I hadn’t seen it. So I checked Rotten Tomatoes, and the crazy low score may have been why.

I watched it anyway. And it’s a really good film.

Back before we let Rotten Tomatoes, Yelp and Amazon make every decision in our lives, we went ahead and saw movies, ate at restaurants and purchased items with our guts. Often we were right, and sometimes were dead wrong. But at least our decisions were ours. And even a really shitty meal with friends is an experience we got to share.

Runner Runner is a very cool crime thriller, written by the guys who wrote Rounders (there’s a gambling theme in both films) and has a kickass cast. And hardly anyone saw it. Now I think about all the stuff I’ve missed out on, because I didn’t trust myself. And that sucks.

My Stand-In, Ricky, Eau De Ricky, And Rest In Peace.

My friend Al posted this pic of Matt Bomer accepting the Golden Globe for The Normal Heart with the caption “Matt Shevin???” To which I commented, “Even gayer Matt Shevin.”

As much as we needed it here in LA, a weekend-full of rain made my dog smell like a health-code violation.

The Ravens were flagged for history’s longest penalty.

Two weeks ago, I started playing a random opponent on Words with Friends, who’s been kicking my ass so embarrassingly-hard I’m a little convinced he’s cheating. But then yesterday, I finally blasted him with a 150-point word. Nerd’s delight.

 
Comedian/actor Taylor Negron passed away, and if you didn’t know much about him before, I promise you’ll love him after you watch this monologue he delivered about his childhood. It’s moving and really funny, and he delivered it last May while he was battling cancer. He led a more interesting life by age 12 than I could imagine.

Why The Terrorists Lose.

Here in America, we have the option of turbo flush for that twosie.

Courtyard By Marriott. Make Room For A Little Fun.

And a lot of shithole under renovation.

Driver, Silicon Beach.

The kid sitting behind me on my flight back from New York had what can only be described as a Rain Man level fear of flying.

So I’m heading down to San Diego today the right way: in a fancy car with a hired driver. I have a big meeting, and we’re leaving this morning. I’ll bring you back something nifty.

2014 Deaths That Sucked.

Phillip Seymour Hoffman. Philip was one of the “oh, I love him” guys. Tell people you saw a movie featuring Philip Seymour Hoffman in it and they’ll automatically say out loud, “Oh, I love him.” Sucks never being able to do this any more.

Mickey Rooney. 340 movies and TV shows, and eight wives. The little man lived BIG.

Harold Ramis. He wrote Animal House, Meatballs, Caddyshack, Stripes and Ghostbusters. Every single best comedy of the 80s. And then the 90s came and he wrote Groundhog Day.

Eli Wallach. 169 movies and TV shows. One wife – for 65 years.

Elaine Stritch. I blogged about her here. 

James Garner. So cool, he almost out-cooled Steve McQueen in The Great Escape. And if you can stomach Mel Gibson, see James steal Maverick.

Robin Williams. I have to re-post the story my friend Jamie told me: “Robin used to bring his cars in to my dad’s old repair shop. My dad said he was the funniest guy ever and equally cool. He brought everybody lunch when he came in to the joint.”

Joan Rivers. Powerful scene in the documentary about her: in the middle of doing her act at a casino in Wisconsin, Joan makes a Helen Keller joke (again, she is so not funny), and an uptight redneck in the audience goes nuts because he has a deaf son. Joan blasts him, and as the dude storms out she tells him her mother was deaf, and reminds him that we need to laugh or we’ll go crazy.

Richard Attenborough. Also a standout guy in The Great Escape. Maybe most well-known for his role in Jurassic Park, but don’t forget he directed Chaplin, Gandhi and one of my dad’s favorites: A Bridge Too Far.

Jan Hooks. Current “Saturday Night Live” cast member Aidy Bryant on Jan Hooks, who was so good at playing it straight: “I feel like that’s such a skill, particularly at SNL, because you’re already juggling so many weird things that you wouldn’t juggle in a normal television show. You’re thinking about cards and all these different things like, okay, I know this is being shot on this camera, so I need to turn this way. And then it’s a quick cut to that one, and I need to turn the other way. There’s so much technical stuff, but whenever I watch Jan, I’m like, wow, she is full-throttle comfortable performing. It seems like she’s not even thinking for a moment about any of that stuff. On this show, 80 percent of what we do is figuring out just how to do it. You just see her performing 100 percent and never think, Oh, I caught her looking at a card, or I caught her – anything. You never see that with her, ever.”

Don Pardo. The average “SNL” cast member spends 3.7 years on the show. Don was the announcer until he was 95.

31 Seconds Of December.

 
My month, one second per day.

Not A Resolution; A Proclamation.

I think 2015 is going to be a great year. And by “great,” I mean “another.”

Actually, I loved my 2014, with its swanky, new living arrangement. Derek Jeter’s last game. The trip to Green Bay with the boys. And booking a role in a big film.

With everyone back to business, today feels like the real first day of the year, and the perfect time to proclaim that I am tanned, rested and ready for even bigger stuff. I’ll finish my two latest comedy shorts, beat my previous film festival acceptance record and shoot a dozen more. I’ll ace every audition. Explore great, new places to eat. Take a trip abroad. Porn will masturbate to me.

Let’s all have that year. Okay? Okay.

Once Again, This Was Not In The Brochure.

The Tenth Great Movie Of The Year.

Not sure if I’m the guy to suggest weekend plans for anyone. I’ve probably spent a solid year of my life just staring into the refrigerator.

But I’ll give it a shot: go out and see a movie. The Imitation Game has got everything you need: great actors, a real-life plot (movies based on true stories make better dramas; the sense of realism and actuality do them justice), and an incredible degree of difficulty. (The film is entirely about stopping the Germans in World War II, and it never once mentions the Holocaust.)

Hey – I was able to complete my list of the top 10 films of 2014 just as the year was ending. Thanks, Germans.

Merry New Year!