Have A Good Sunday.

Sunday is the worst. It’s as if God wants to punish us by putting church on TV.

But wait – the heathens at Sundance TV are here to help, with a new show called “Close-Up with the Hollywood Reporter.”

It doesn’t matter if you’re not in showbiz – there’s something captivating about actors and directors talking about their processes. “Inside the Actor’s Studio” is proof, but new episodes are sporadic at best. “Dinner for Five” was amazing, and you can still see most of the episodes on YouTube.

But now, there’s a new show on Sundance, premiering this Sunday morning, that features A-listers getting together and talking shop. Some episodes will feature a group of actors, others executive producers. It looks really good.

The show starts airing this Sunday at 11 a.m., so set your DVRs and you’re welcome.

Here’s What I Have Coming Soon.

I’m in the middle of editing three comedy shorts I shot last month, which means soon you can take a break from all that porn you're streaming and have a laugh.

In the meantime, I’m writing more sketches, and hopefully will shoot them in the upcoming months. I don’t want to spoil the premises, but I will say that for one of them I’ll be coaching up my nephew for his second role, and for another my wardrobe is considered so objectionable it isn’t sold or rented in this town.

Watch for them. Soon.

Bring It Home.

The Adobe update was ready to install, but I thought long and hard about it, and I just wasn’t.

Boston developed similar cold feet about its bid for the 2024 Olympics on Monday, which means LA is most likely the new frontrunner for the Games.

I love it.

First of all, before anyone thinks traffic would become paralyzed here, know this: when Los Angeles hosted the Olympics in 1984, the same fear occurred, and it was misguided. Angelenos handled much like we did for both carmageddons – by listening. Here’s how the LA Times reported it back in ’84:

Years of warnings and intense preparations apparently paid off Friday as a predicted paralyzing combination of Olympic and commuter traffic failed to develop on the busiest day yet of the Games. Instead, drivers enjoyed another day of free-flowing freeway traffic across Southern California. “Black Friday,” transportation officials smugly pointed out to reporters, had become “Good Friday.” The driving public had apparently listened to the traffic congestion warnings and predictions. 

While many recent Olympics were economic disasters for their host cities (check out this trippy slideshow), Los Angeles is still making money from 1984, because it wisely used profits to create an endowment called the LA84 Foundation. It funds youth sporting events and facilities, and pays coaches and buys equipment for LA high schools after budget cuts destroy their programs. $214 million have been spent so far. LA is the best.

I love the Olympics, and I hope we get it here. I’ll go to every event I can. Thanks, Boston.

Ask Not.

While purging the pics on my iPhone, I found one from when I was attempting to check in to JFK Airport on Facebook. Seems a lot more fitting to name a strip club after the man.

Now Batting.

No man with a ponytail has ever failed a black-belt test.

I personally prefer to let weapons do the talking, like my new bat with nails in it.

It’s actually a prop that I used yesterday in a big casting workshop, and it did it’s job really well. It also sent a message to any neighbors who saw me putting it together outside my house. They’ve been warned.

Well Played, Guisados, Well Played.

Partner In Crime.

Facebook should just change its name to Acquaintance Birthday Reminder.

Alright, it occasionally serves a purpose. My college roommate Gregg was able to let me know he was coming to LA, and we got together last night. It was the first time I’d seen him since we graduated.

I highly recommend rehashing the old days. Like how we committed grand larceny on a weekly basis because our roommate Steve worked the register at a liquor store. And all the times Gregg would use his Chevy Nova to sideswipe cars that double-parked in our lot. Or the night he was on his way back to our apartment in a drunken stupor, was offered crack, and went ahead and bought it.

Holy shit – we should have had a lawyer on retainer. Anyway, good seeing you Gregg. And thanks, statute of limitations.

NOTE: Not to worry – when Gregg got home and realized he’d bought crack, he took it out of the ziploc and threw it on our rug. Ah, college.

As In My Idol.

Money can’t buy you happiness. But it can buy you a jet ski.

Happiness comes from within. I was born with the positivity gene, but growing up in New York, where hope goes to be shivved, it was suppressed. That was until Stuart K. Robinson drew it out.

Stuart was my acting teacher, but he’s so much more than that for so many people in this town. His class is a masters in pursuing your dreams and your full potential. I blogged about him a couple years ago – you can read it here.

With his spirit and work ethic, it was a foregone conclusion that Stuart would eventually share his wisdom beyond the classroom, by writing a book. It’s on its way to me, but I can already guarantee it’s required reading for everyone. There’s something you want in your life; now you’ve got the roadmap to get it.

Stuart is currently on a big tour promoting the book, and stopped by KTLA yesterday during their morning show:
  

Right after Stuart shot the segment, one of the KTLA staffers bought his book on the spot.

Smart guy. Follow his lead.

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

• I dread doing laundry as if I didn’t have a machine that washes the clothes for me and another that dries them for me, as I do nothing.

• The number of red lights you will hit while driving are directly proportional to how bad you have to pee.

• When I say “lol”, there’s a 0% chance that I’m laughing out loud.

• A 20-minute wait in line at Ralph’s is the longest hour and a half of your life.

• So you haven’t achieved much financially. Big deal. The important thing is you’re not happy.

Ricky Update.

Gotta hand it to dogs, because their stupid little paws can’t reach anything.

That’s pretty much how it’s been at my place the last few weeks. Administering meds, trips to the vet, and trying to keep Ricky corralled as much as possible so he doesn’t tear out his staples.

He of course tore them out – twice. Despite what you may think, you never get used to seeing bone through a dog’s open skin.

Besides that, Ricky has been a very good dog. He tolerates wearing his cone when I’m out, and listens and lays down if he’s getting too excited. Today, he gets his stitches out (the old-fashioned way), and gets x-rayed, and then hopefully has only five more weeks of rehab.

Unfortunately, there was one bit of tough news. The surgeon looked at Ricky’s MRI before the operation and saw that Ricky had torn both ACLs, meaning there’s a good chance that after this knee heals, he has to go through this all over again. I feel so bad for him, but when it’s all over, the knees will last forever. Feel a tiny bit bad for me, because a second surgery will bring the grand total to $8000.

Eh – it happens. You either love dogs or you don’t.

Rain In Los Angeles: A Primer.

Lightning in LA? Heck yeah, and it got biblical. The beaches were immediately shut down. Palm trees caught on fire. It happened.

Every time it rains just a few inches in LA, out come the obligatory “Storm Watch!” tweets. So hacky, been done a million times. You’re better than that.

The beauty of rain here is that it makes people tentative to venture out, so you get the run of the place. I went to Eat.Drink.Americano, in downtown LA, and felt like a Jew on Christmas morning.

Last night, the Angels game was rained out. It was the first time it’s happened here since 1995, and to put that in perspective, the Yankees have had over 50 rainouts since then. The company producing Angels umbrellas is not exactly printing money.

Including That Floating Plastic Garbage Island That’s The Size Of Texas.

When it comes to ceviche, Petty Cash Taqueria ain’t fooling around.

Better Check The Fine Print.

My SUV needed new brake pads yesterday, so I got a car from Enterprise that reeked of weed. Do I get charged an upgrade for that?

Allergic To Water?

That’s a thing now?

Tastiest Item On The Menu.

I Can Explain.

Try not to read into anything I do. I once dated a girl for two months because she had a trampoline.

I’m mostly talking to you, NSA, about some of the questionable purchases I’ve recently made. Yeah, I bought a wood bat and extra long nails that I’ll be hammering into that bat, but who hasn’t?

Three rolls of duct tape, sure. The pistol, the “tobacco” pipe – yeah they’re mine, too. But I did not buy a temporary swastika tattoo. I merely searched for one. No one sells them. Same goes for the suicide vests I googled.

That’s because everything I’ve bought is simply a prop for a shoot.

Anyway, if you still decide to haul me in, no need to bring handcuffs. I purchased a pair myself.

The Most Nearsighted Meter Maids In All The Southland.

Culver City, big enough parking permit or what?

Things are finally getting intriguing on “True Detective.” And I’m talking about Colin Farrell finally shaving off that 70s ‘stache in next week’s preview.

On Saturday, I took this shot of my favorite Donald Trump moment: leaving LA.

Photographic Memory.

Seeing these disposable cameras last night took me back to a simpler time… when sending a dick pic involved getting it developed at Walgreens.

What Wouldn’t Jesus Do?

Use a seatbelt.

The Fourth Great Movie Of 2015.

High school is extra nuts. And I’m not talking mistaking-the-teaspoon-with-the-tablespoon kind of nuts – I’m talking about Mel Gibson downing a 5-hour Energy and accidentally showing up at a bar mitzvah kind of nuts.

It’s a lot to ask a teenager to navigate through this unscathed. Greg is a senior who chooses not to engage with his classmates, circumventing the system by being pleasant yet utterly forgettable.

That’s until his mom insists he hang out with Rachel, a girl from his school who has been diagnosed with leukemia. Which is when we find out he is intelligent with an offbeat sense of humor. He tries to cheer Rachel up; she encourages him to apply to college.

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl won the Grand Jury Prize and the Audience Award at Sundance. It’s original and funny and tragic and the best film of the year. I can’t recommend it enough.

Finally, You Can Cross Seeing A Pit Bull Tear His ACL Off Your Bucket List.

I’m sure the pain a woman feels during childbirth is nothing compared to the intense pain I endure at the gym during 20 minutes of cardio.

But Ricky has us all beaten. I shoot a second of video every day, and this past month, I happened to be rolling as he ran around a park and tore his knee to shreds. That’s a baseball cap in his mouth, by the way. Extra yummy. Catch it all here, during 30 Seconds of June:

 

Put Him In The Emmy Speech.

Never act with children or animals. Good advice regarding talking teddy bears – not necessarily true of Pit Bulls.

I blogged last week about coaching my friend Ariel for an audition, and Ricky inserting his jumbo noggin into the scene. The result: Ariel booked the role.

It’s for the TV show “Chasing Life”, and it shoots next week. While I’d like to think I had a huge hand in preparing Ariel, he keeps giving full credit to Rick. Congrats, you idiots.

Drive-By Patriotism.

The only people dumb enough to light firecrackers on July 3rd are drunk, and that’s kind of natural selection, so I’m okay with it.

But I’ve got a dog that’s supposed to remain immobilized, and explosions drive animals nuts, so you catch my drift.

It only encouraged my more grownup celebration: barbecue in the afternoon, then a movie, then dinner at Laurel Hardware. Man, you can get a great table on a holiday, then catch some amazing fireworks alongside the freeway the entire ride home. See above. I like LA. Happy 6th.

Do You Think Our Forefathers Would Have Fought For Life And Liberty If They Knew This Is How We’d Use It?

O’Neill Men’s “Murca” Beer Pong Boardshort

Taking Pics While Driving.

Still legal in all 50 states.

Guest Cameo.

While coaching my friend Ariel for an audition last night, someone kept trying to upstage him.

God Blast The USA.

The TNT stands are back in LA, and I realized: fireworks are the only product about which I find myself saying, “They’re not made in China? Well, I’m not buying THAT crap.”