Upstaged.

I got an email last week from the vet wishing Ricky a happy birthday. I replied, asking them to call him because he can’t read.

Ricky was born on Thanksgiving, 2011, and last week he turned five on Thanksgiving day. Your move, greeting card section.

Bit of a gyp for anyone with a birthday coinciding with a holiday, so I gave Rick a big, fat chewy and a preposterously long walk before I deserted him to stuff my own face. He was cool about it. Happy belated.

I Got To Say It Was A Good Actor Day.

I just found a new app that that tells you which of your friends are boring. It’s called Facebook.

That is, unless, you’re my friend Will Radford. I woke up early two weeks ago and saw a Facebook post from Will that read: “Tuesday was another one of those great ‘actor days’ – callback for a national commercial, producer read for a fun role on a network dramedy, and ending with a good class. So grateful for the activity...”

I love Will. I think of him as a brother. But I felt a twinge of jealousy all actors feel – that my career had been a little slow the past month. (Even Aaron Eckhart mentioned going through it recently in the LA Times.) I got out of bed and went to the gym, where I bumped into my other acting brother, Ariel, and told him I needed a good acting day like Will. (Small world: the screen-grab above is of Will on an episode of “Silicon Valley”, a role in which he unwittingly beat out Ariel to get. Oh the pain, William, the pain.)

Hold that thought. Three hours after I spoke to Ariel, I received a callback for a national commercial. Five minutes after that, I got an audition for a drama on ABC. The universe was eavesdropping.

And the very next day, I nailed the drama audition, went to my commercial callback, and am now on avail (one of the top two choices) for a role the commercial. And just like that, I had one of those great actor days.

Whatever you need today, go ahead and bitch about it. Whine like crazy. Be the squeaky wheel. Trust me.

Long Day’s Schlep Into Night.

The entrance into LAX on the Sunday after Thanksgiving is like eight lanes merging into a hiking trail.

I live 4.3 miles away. The first 3.2 miles took me five minutes. I glanced at Waze to see how long the last 1.1 miles would take, and it said 25 minutes. Seemed like a glitch, and it was – it took an hour and 15 minutes.

Eh, I was asked to pick someone up. I’m a giver. Nifty new installation at LAX, by the way – an area for dogs to pee, complete with a genuine fire hydrant:

Full Of Thanks.

We were most thankful to be gathered around together Thanksgiving night, instead of trampled human corpses at Walmart.

A bunch of great people, a lot of great food, and a really phenomenal day.

I Get Thankful.

Thanksgiving is a magical time of year when families across America join together to raise the country’s obesity statistics.

Thank you for reading my blog. I am appreciate you, and want to give thanks to all the things that made it possible:

• Al Pacino crashing my blog 
• Super Bowl Sunday repo man 
• The moonset 
• Two Jews walking into each other 
• Latin George Clooney 
• Campbell’s Chunky Hearty Pizza With Sausage & Pepperoni 
• Prostitutes in Audis 
• Urinals made out of kegs 
• Attending three birthday parties on my birthday – none of them mine 
• Canned pinot 
• Swim trunks featuring my headshot 
• The gas meter-reader lady who saw me naked 
• A mascot presiding over your wedding 
• A Jew walking into a Nazi compound 
• The porn going with me 
• The Randy Jones half-pound hot dog 
• The band God Boner 
• The nail-in-a-tire conspiracy 
• The dude who dropped the watermelon outside the Food 4 Less 
• The Joe’s Barbecue Hogomaniac 
• Canned dog-food jelly beans

By Far, The Worst Peanuts Special.

The Fourth Great Movie Of The Year.

Teenagers, don’t let people tell you that life as an adult is nothing but being poor and tired. It’s better if it’s a surprise.

The Edge of Seventeen was as good as I hoped, and really captures the confusion, angst, and unintentional hilarity of being a teen. The cast couldn’t be any better, and Woody Harrelson steals all of his scenes as the cool, couldn’t-care-less-until-he-knows-he-has-to teacher. Woody is quietly one of the most likeable actors today. I’ll see anything he does.

Check this movie out, if only to see that all it takes 9 million bucks to make one of the best films of the year. (In one weekend, it’s already made half its budget back.) You’ll love it.

Three Nights. Three Places.

Friday night: The Red Room in Encino. 82 types of wine, and I order the only beer on the menu. It’s like going to IHOP and ordering the Swiss steak.

Saturday night: The Running Goose in Hollywood. Salt cod churros – my three favorite things.

Sunday night: Saint and Second in Long Beach. Twice as many wines as Red Room, and I get a Hef. It’s like going to Dunkin’ Donuts and ordering a cruller.

At The Very Least:

I would literally never feel confident enough to drop a piece of equipment as expensive as a mic.

But I came close yesterday. I had a very good acting day. I can’t talk about it yet (there was a non-disclosure involved), but I will soon.

Sorry to tease. I still shared more than any CNN “Breaking News” segment, so that’s something.

That’s About Right.

Let’s Keep The Goodness Coming.

Really want to make America great? Make it a punishable offense to create a movie trailer that uses the record-scratch sound effect.

I’ve posted two below that don’t, for movies I’ve been looking forward to for months, both of which open on Friday. On the heels of me loving Hell or High Water, this is turning into the best movie week of the year.

There’s been a good streak the last few years of films that John Hughes would have made if he were still alive: The Spectacular Now, Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, and now The Edge of Seventeen. I can’t wait just to watch Woody Harrelson playing this part.

The other film is Manchester By the Sea, with Casey Affleck, who nails every role he plays, this time for a film has a 100% rating on Rotten Tomatoes.

I just planned your weekend. Check ‘em out:

The Third Great Movie Of The Year.

I remember I once saw an article on Facebook that a local bank had been robbed. It had one like. I thought they should probably look at that person as the robbery suspect.

Marcus Hamilton would have figured that out. He’s a retiring Texas Ranger in Hell or High Water, and nothing will get in the way of his trying to make one last bust of two brothers robbing banks in West Texas.

I hope the cast (Chris Pine, Ben Foster and Jeff Bridges) shows up on the ballot for the SAG Awards outstanding performance by a cast, because I will vote for them and they will win.

You know, when you think about it, if you attempt to rob banks, you won’t have any trouble with rent/food/bills for the next 10 years, whether you’re successful or not. Either way, go on Amazon or iTunes and watch this movie. It’s great.

Heartening. Disheartening. Heartwarming.

This pic of the sunset from my front door Saturday night is cool, but now I realize that if I added my feet and my dinner, I could have won Instagram.,, After watching the Jets lose to the Rams at Sharkeez, I realized chicken nachos are my antidepressants… But the following cheered me up – the Toronto Maple Leaf’s Tyler Bozak’s baby son Kanon seeing his dad at work:

How The Sausage Is Made.

Slightly less than glamorous prep for a new star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

Not Without A Transgender Time Machine.

Keep losing until hopefully you don’t is how I approach gambling.

It’s how I approach acting as well. I auditioned for a Jeep commercial last month, for the role of a salesman, and felt very good about it. The commercial began running over the weekend, and I found out one reason why I didn’t get the role: they went with a woman.

Man, women are getting all the breaks this week.

My Most Difficult Challenge Yet.

What’s Everyone Else Gonna Eat?

Whenever my stomach makes a really weird noise, I send a pizza down to check it out.

 The other day, I sent a gigantic one down – a 36-incher from Big Mama’s & Papa’s. It was especially meaningful for me. I remember growing up in New York, yearning to someday live in Los Angeles. My big brother came out here for a visit, and returned with a picture from a party he attended of his friend Greg spreading his arms across a Big Mama’s pizza, and a “can you believe it!” look on his face.

It was a life-changing moment for a young Matthew Shevin. It took a while, but mission finally accomplished. I can die now.

Lighting A Fire On Your Monday Morning.

When speaking to my niece and nephew, I always end every sentence with “or else you’ll die” as a motivational tool.

Okay, perhaps I should let Kevin Smith take over. I’m currently reading his book Tough Shit: Life Advice from a Fat, Lazy Slob Who Did Good, which he wrote as a blueprint for success. In one chapter, he talks about wanting to thank all the people in his life who make him look like the smartest guy in the room. He calls them the “Why Not?” people:

There are plenty of “Why?” people in the world. Whenever you hit them with an idea, they start in with their bullshit.
 
“Why bother?” 
“Why try that?” 
“Why do you think you’re better than everyone else?” 
“Why?” 

To counteract this, simply surround yourself with folks who ask only “Why not?” As in: “Wanna make a movie?” “Sure. Why not?” 

Remember: it costs nothing to encourage someone, and the potential benefits are staggering. A pat on the back now could one day result in your favorite film, or the cartoon you love to get stoned watching or the song that saves your life. Discourage an artist, and you get absolutely nothing in return, ever. I’ve spent the better part of my career getting up after screenings and encouraging potential artists in the audience to give it a shot, pointing at myself as proof that anybody can make their dreams come true. I don’t do this altruistically – I’m selfishly insuring that I have cool shit to watch one day by encouraging anybody to following passions like film or storytelling. I’ve been sending a message to the next generation of filmmakers for the last two decades: get ready, ‘cause you’re up next.

Air Bud 4: Out Of Air.

31 Seconds Of October.

October's cool because you can buy 120 Snickers, and the cashier won't even acknowledge it.

Great month, captured one second per day:

 

Vanity, Thy Name Is Horsepower.

When I make my first million, I’m switching from two-ply toilet paper to white bread.

Until then, I’ll settle for a fancier car. My lease was up, so on Saturday I turned in my Acadia and took home a new one. It is not an exaggeration to say that if, today, I had to choose one vehicle to drive for the rest of my natural life, it would be the 2017 GMC Acadia Limited. Partially why:

Fighter-jet technology. Why look down at the dashboard like a sucker when the heads-up display projects speed and tachometer readings, outside temp and the station/song on my radio onto my windshield. For the win.

Heated and cooled seats. My butt will never stop thanking me.

Heated steering wheel. It feels like someone is gently holding my hand, and that alone is worth the price of being pretentious.

Beware.

If you come trick or treating to my place, you will leave with less candy than you had.