Scrappy.

“You sure do know a lot about Pit Bulls.” – the woman on every first date I’ve ever been on.

Yeah, I kinda dig ‘em. Especially one with a really bad wheel. But that leg had surgery performed on it yesterday, and it was a success. Then the fun kicked in. Which included: the vet not telling me I would have to transport Ricky to an all-night hospital so he could have an IV drip all night. And the accompanying cost. (Tack on another 500 bucks to make it an even four grand.) Then I waved off the crazy stretcher they offered and picked up my 76-lb. dog and carried him out to my SUV.

Ricky had been holding in an enormous twosie all day, as they’d neglected to let him outside. It began coming out of him in the back of my SUV, so I pulled an emergency stop and let him finish on some grass. That’s where I took the pic in today’s splash.

Moms and dads, I appreciate the jobs you do and the pressures you face, and I know the needs of a dog are nothing compared to that of a child, but carrying my helpless Pit into the second hospital with his IV and pain meds, watching him confused and unable to sit, knowing all the visits back to the vet and the rehab that lay ahead, and the cost/poop/responsibility was the closest I’ve ever felt to being an overwhelmed single parent.

The vet at the second hospital must have sensed it, and said to me, “Hey – imagine if he tore both knees.” I snapped out of it. Perspective. No charge.

April Fresh.

I haven’t brushed up on my knowledge of semiconductors or reconfigurable engines, but I assume my neighbor putting Mario Kart 7 through the washer and dryer is bad.

Cheering up my neighbor, and the entire neighborhood, really: the sunset last night.

Today is Ricky’s surgery, and this is what the metal piece that will be screwed into his leg looks like. My vet has one of them on his key chain, and it makes me feel better, knowing this is relatively routine. I’ll be bringing Ricky’s shaved butt home later today.

Why? What Did You Do Last Night?

Truth In Signage.

I would describe the cologne on the guy who was on the elevator with me yesterday as “all of it.”

It was easily the most odiferous week of the year. I’ll explain.

Two facts about LA:

1. There are often bright yellow signs around town that guide cast and crew to movie and TV shoots.
2. El Segundo, home of the impossibly foul Hyperion Sewage Treatment Plant, is regularly referred to as “Smell Segundo.”

Yesterday, worlds collided when I saw the sign pictured above, on Rosecrans, pointing toward a shoot in El Segundo.

I’m giving my nose the weekend off.

Riding In Cars With Elderly Asians.

I shot another comedy sketch that I wrote, this time with co-stars Linda and her husband, known only to us as “Mr. Sam.” I assume with a name like that he has an amazing line of wigs.

It went really well, and they were excellent, and I’m adding this to the pile of stuff being edited.

Geu laeb ui. It’s Korean, for “that’s a wrap.”

The Second Great Movie Of The Year.

You know, there’s a support group for people who had tough upbringings. It’s called “Everybody.” We meet at the bar.

Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys had an especially shitty childhood. And early adulthood. Love & Mercy gets into it, and it also shows how much of an innovative genius he was when it came to songwriting and production.

But he was tortured, by both his abusive dad and auditory hallucinations. We see it in both his teens and in his 40s, portrayed by Paul Dano and John Cusack. I really liked this film a lot.

Making it all the more surreal for me was that I saw it at the Landmark Theater on Pico Blvd., less than a mile from Brian’s former studio. I worked there a bunch after it was under new ownership, and seeing the movie prompted me to drive over and take this pic:

Fascinating film. See it.

Adding Injury To Injury.

Do people who say, "Exercise helps me relax" know about not exercising?

If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t have had run Ricky in the park last Saturday. But I had a wedding that night and was shooting the next day, and needed him to be worn out.

Cut to last Tuesday, right before I went to urgent care. I picked Ricky up from the vet. He’d been hobbling around on three legs for three days. The vet did an MRI, and the result was in: a torn CCL – the canine equivalent of an ACL.

This Monday, Ricky is going to have surgery, and the ruptured ligament will be removed and the bones in his leg screwed together with a metal plate. Then a ten-week recuperation begins, to which Jeff, Ricky’s cool, hippy dog walker said was going to be “one bummer of a summer.”

Also terrific: the price of the operation. $3500.

The upside is he’ll be a brand new dog when it’s all over. And I’m totally going to see if his new, metal knee will hold fridge magnets. Until then, it’s like a Civil War triage station in this place. The unwalking dead.

Things I Learned.

Father’s Day lesson from last night’s season premiere of “True Detective”: brass knuckles make you one great father.

This dude behind me at Guess needed a refresher course in personal space. So I turned around and gave him a good look at my black eye. Mission accomplished.

And A Child Shall Recommend Us.

It’s kinda sad that 98% of the population can only correctly use a semicolon if they’re trying to digitally wink at somebody.

Add one more to bunch. My niece graduated elementary school yesterday, and her parents gave her her first cell phone.

I figured I make her first text meaningful, so I found a pic of me holding her when she was 45 minutes old, and sent it.

Turns out not only wasn’t it her first text, she’s way past rookie status. Probably posting a CNET first-look video as we speak. I give up.

Swanky.

Guys, I hope adding water to your shampoo bottles have helped you overcome your financial hardships.

Found a $178 t-shirt right up your alley.

Cruel Irony.

There was a time, before I was disfigured – I call it Sunday – that I shot a comedy sketch I’d written with my friend Chad. The premise involved a home invasion.

The director kept mussing up my hair and rewetting my face, trying to create the right look of trouble. But you know what really would have helped? A black eye. It would have looked my intruder had given me a good tuneup.

One day later, I was given a ridiculous shiner, and now I can’t shoot anything, and I don’t know what I’m going to do if I get an audition.

Sunday went amazingly, and I can’t wait for the edit. But more importantly, thanks a lot, stupid face.

Prognosis: Meh.

When life gives you lemons, mix them with cayenne and tell everyone you’re doing a cleanse.

Getting smashed in the head is bad. It could have been worse. Above is what it looked like right after it happened. Like I’m in the shittiest horror film. Only less painful.

Here’s today. Better. Like a Chris Brown masterpiece. The swelling on my forehead went down because I iced it all night. I thought I was in the clear until blood began to pool around my eye, so I went to urgent care. The staff x-rayed my orbital socket and checked me for a concussion. Negative for both. I’m not in the habit of being injured – proof of which being the last time I was in the building where this urgent care is located, it was a Blockbuster.

Thanks for all the concern and well-wishes. I’m lucky the ball didn’t hit me an inch lower, and even luckier to have such incredible friends and family checking up on me. And that ain’t the Naproxen talking.

Inside The Actor’s Concussed Noggin.

I like my face. I mean, yeah, I’ve got notes, but it’s a keeper.

My forehead, however, is another story. Pitching against the Playboy softball team last night, I got drilled by a line drive. I wanted to stay in the game, but the horror on my teammates’ faces began to change my mind, and then when I could look up and see the damage myself, it sealed the deal.

I actually did not suffer a concussion, but I’m putting my acting career on the 15-day disabled list.

My Friend Jenn’s Wedding: An iPhone™ Photo Gallery.

Jenn got married on Saturday, on a cliff at the Montage resort in Laguna Beach – the complete antithesis of a Holiday Inn banquet room.

Making the Montage all the more perfect: rabbits run freely about the grounds.

No, this was not one of the rabbits being served during the cocktail reception. I asked.

The bride really wore that dress. Me – I wore the same getup I have on in my headshots. I feel shame.

Cleansing the palate: pink grapefruit sorbet. I’m going to start doing this nightly between my turkey meatballs and brown rice.

Every wedding features the obligatory praise for the bride, but on Saturday, it was merited. The groom talked about Jenn always putting others ahead of herself, and making fast friends in every area of her life. He was right. May all the women with hearts as big as hers look just as happy walking down the aisle.

No Objection.

Yeah dude, definitely marry the chick who made you hold a ukulele in your engagement photo.

Sage advice for all guys except Pete, who is marrying my friend Jenn tonight. Jenn has impeccable taste, and both she and Pete are hugely successful lawyers, which simply means this is going to be the nicest wedding I will ever attend.

I think I’ll shower for this one. Pictures Monday.

Ask The Big Guy For Spelling Skills, Too.

My 2300th Entry.

I’ve deleted enough tweets to know that I should never get a tattoo.

And I stick mainly with blog entries. Way too many, in fact. And as is tradition, whenever I hit a century mark, I choose my five favorite posts from the past 100, and list them like so:

Next Generation. Our friendship began when we were in diapers, and looks like it will end that way, too. Bond by incontinence here.

I’m In A Movie In Theaters This Weekend. Oh Hey! Movie theaters! Remember them? They’re for real, and they’re here.

Things I Learned From My Trip To New York. You can tell a lot about an airport by its one-eared Snoopy. Enjoy the vandalism here.

Scary Good. From now on, everything I shoot will take place below sea level. Feel the altitude here.

Trip To Costa Rica, Part One: An iPhone™Photo Gallery. I highly recommend occasionally living like King Shit. Feast your ojos here.

Trip To Costa Rica, Part Two: An iPhone™ Photo Gallery. More goodness. Consider this favorite entry number 5b. Andale here.

Smallish Roles.

I like cheese more than I like most people.

But I especially love the couple that’s agreed to be extras in one of my comedy shoots this Sunday. Very good people.

Not to pat myself on the back, but no one in Hollywood ever recognizes the background players. I mean, I don’t use the term “hero” often, but I’d like to introduce Linda, and… her husband, or boyfriend, or guy she’s sleeping with.

I promise to learn his name by the weekend.

This Guy.

I remember after Phil Hartman died, I read an article in which a casting director said, “Phil was so funny that he simply walked into my office with a straight face and I busted out laughing, and he was like ‘What?!’”

My friend Josh has that same quality. I’m glad I wasn’t there when he knelt down last week and ripped his jeans from knee to crotch, because I don’t think anywhere nearby was qualified to handle a defibrillator.

Season Finale.

“And you swear to God, your parents let you do this?” – me, every 20 minutes, when I'm watching my niece and nephew.

See? I’m a fair to middling uncle. I even managed to see almost every one of my nephew’s Little League games this year. Saturday was his last game, and it sucks a little.

Good weekend, nonetheless. Had a major blackout in my neighborhood last night. It was so dark I figured it was happening – the revolution was on. The power came back in time to catch the end of the Tony Awards, in which Larry David, who finished his run this weekend in one of the best plays I’ve ever seen, sticking it to Broadway:

Sucks To Be An Android.

Thoughts For The Hometown Girl.

Katherine Chappell, who was attacked and killed by a lion in South Africa the other day, grew up in Rye, the town I grew up in, outside of New York City.

Rye is a pretty tight-knit community, and I hope her family is hanging in there. Sorry to hear about this.

Can’t Talk. Shooting.

Next Sunday, I’m going to be shooting at least three new comedy sketches, and possibly a fourth. Feel free to add the word “savant” to my title.

I’ve either written or co-written all of them with my friend Chad, and a really great director I’ve met is going to shoot them. We’re in major pre-production now, and even though I won’t be sleeping for the next 240 hours, I ain’t complaining.

Expectations are high. Careers break upon such rocks. Producers jump off buildings. I love this.

Not Sure How They Audition Over In Poland, But Count Me In.

Speedy Recovery, Sir.

My friend and super talented actor John Kapelos is having knee surgery today, and I wanted to wish him luck before he started sending me pain killer-induced texts.

That’s John, above, splitting cheesecake with me on Sunday. He’s feeling a little nervous about the surgery, and he shouldn’t, seeing as he was literally blown up on “Justified” last season. Hang in there, man.

31 Seconds Of May.

If the plan is “chicken parm now, figure out life later” then yes, everything is going according to plan.

Click below, take a gander at one second per day of my month of May, and you’ll understand: