I Tour The TWA Hotel.

The lady next to me on the plane yesterday smelled like she ate a bowl of grandmas for breakfast.

I prefer the plane itself have that throwback feel. When I walked out of the JetBlue terminal at LAX, I came upon a great sight: the long-shuttered TWA terminal was now the newly- reopened TWA Hotel. Here’s an extensive photo gallery:

The time-warp begins with a simple choice…

…which leads to a tunnel that has the feel of the teleportation device in Stargate.

Look familiar? Just the other day I re-watched Catch Me If You Can. Tom Hanks and Leonardo DiCaprio in the tunnel.

The desk of Jack Frye, TWA president from 1934-1947, complete with a glass of scotch. Simpler times.

The lobby features 60s TWA fleet automobiles and a giant, old-school, constantly-clacking split-flap departure board.

You can sip cocktails in the Lockheed jet parked outside the hotel.

The cockpit of the jet is almost too accurate, including original, pumped-in traffic-controller recordings over a loudspeaker. I love when no detail is spared. I so want to stay here.

Gone Vacationing.

I told a server I’m going to New York this weekend, so when I left, she said, “Have a good time in New York!’ and I said “You too!” So, long story short, she’s coming to New York with me.

Alright, she’s not. But I am headed back east. An extra-long Labor Day weekend to see my mom, my little brother, my other little brother (Ollie, the dog), and a couple Yankee games. It’s what my union brothers ultimately wanted 100 years ago when they violently fought for this holiday. Thanks, guys. Happy weekend.

Best Dressed.

When I pass, all I ask is to be buried with a walkie talkie, just in case.

On a film set, the entire crew gets to wear nifty walkie talkies with mics clipped to their shirts. You hear the code “10-1” spoken into them pretty often. 10-1 is walkie-talkie talk for needing to take a pee. It’s a nice way to avoid divulging too much information.

That’s why my favorite shirt from my recent shoot was “10-2 Happens.” Simple, profound. 10-2 does happen. It’s a part of life that can’t be prevented. Everybody poops. That’s a big 10-4.

Matt’s Book Club.

Never judge a book by its cover. Besides, you’re on Instagram all day and don’t even read books. Despite the slick cover,

Chris Kattan’s new book never mentions monkeys. (Except for his character Mr. Peepers, which was very monkey-like.) I would’ve bought this book for myself, because I like Chris and all things SNL-related, but my brother beat me to it, giving it to me for my birthday.

He gifted it to me a few days before the book made headlines for a chapter about Lorne Michaels asking Chris to sleep with director Amy Heckerling to keep her happy as they shot A Night at the Roxbury.

The headlines were out of context. In the book, Chris recounted being told by Lorne that Amy had a crush and him, and Chris was pleasantly surprised. They started secretly dating. The real drama occurred after they finished shooting. Because Chris kept the relationship hidden from his co-star/best friend Will Ferrell, Will lost trust in Chris, and refused to return his calls. Back at SNL, Will finally pulled Chris aside and said that while there wouldn’t be a problem with them working together, their friendship was over.

This is a very quick read – which is rare for me and my only-on-the-elliptical reading habit. Chris has led an interesting life. His dad was a Groundling and an actor as well, who appeared in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Chris broke his neck doing a prat-fall during an SNL sketch, and then, afraid he’d lose his job, he risked paralysis by refusing to tell anyone or see a doctor about it. Eventually he did, and needed five separate surgeries. He became hooked on pain pills and cocaine.

Very good book. I recommend it.

Sunday In The Ballpark.

I’m at my most athletic when I’m running up stadium stairs to buy more nachos.

Yesterday was a perfect day at the stadium. My friend Rob (second from left), was in town with his son Marty (all the way on left), whose tenth birthday was yesterday. Our Yankees were also in town, so I grabbed my nephew, whose birthday is in two weeks (and who is unfortunately a Dodgers fan), and we all went to the game.

The Yankees won and played really well. We ate lots of junk and had seats in the shade on an extra hot day, plus this surreal LA experience:

A forest fire beyond left field, which started during the game, and forced residents in Eagle Rock to evacuate. I hope everyone there is okay. And happy birthday, boys.

R,I.P., Ripped Friend.

The reason I’ve decided to replace my old messenger bag with a fancy new one is so that I look more classy and professional carrying nothing but snacks to wherever I go.

Actually, the old bag has had it. It’s splitting its seams in several places beyond repair. While my new Peak bag is entirely groovy, I’ll miss my old one. It’s been everywhere with me. It was at my side in India, China, Brazil, Costa Rica and the Philippines. It was with me at the Cannes Film Festival, and when I flew home for my dad’s funeral. It was sitting at my feet on my flight to Philadelphia last year when I found out I booked a role on a soap opera.

The new Peak messenger bag is killer – so thoughtfully designed and light as air. I didn’t realize it wasn’t just my laptop weighing down my shoulder all these years; my Victorinox bag was made of old, heavy, early 2000s canvas. Bulky and obsolete. Once again, an overdue lesson learned. Indulge me while I quote myself, from my blog after my first visit to the brand new Yankee Stadium:

“Seeing the old stadium across the street made me feel like I was at my new, hot young girlfriend’s place, peeking through the curtains at my ex-wife’s house. Sure, the missus and I had a lot of good times, but she’s old and smelly now.”

The Motliest Crew

Hey, wilderness reality show person who is about to freeze to death with no hope in sight: maybe just cuddle up with the crew filming you.

I love film crews. It doesn’t matter how early my call time is or how little sleep I’ve gotten – when I pull up and the guys are busy unloading trucks and setting up a shot, I am instantly energized.

The crew of this film worked their asses off. Pictured with me above are Joe Carroll, production coordinator, and Steven Luna, second assistant director. They kept me happy and focused every day. Steven always knew where I was supposed to be, and what wardrobe I was supposed to be wearing. Joe, in addition to overseeing an obscene amount of details, busted my balls constantly for free.

There’s nothing like being on a set. You bond instantly with everyone involved. It becomes your community. You're there to make something great, and even better, you’re there for the hang. I missed these guys the second I was driving home after being wrapped. This is what I want to do with my life. These are the people I want to spend it with. See you soon, guys.

My Role.

If movies have taught me anything about being a cop, it’s this: you’ll try to avenge your buddy’s murder even after the chief takes your gun and badge. Also: no cop can chase down a kid if the kid’s riding a ten-speed.

In the role I just shot, I played a detective in a small town. It was one of the leads in a TV movie called DNA Killer, and I had the most fun playing it.

I can’t give away any more about the movie, but it’s tentatively set to air in March. Also: I realize I ranted and cursed about one particular bad cop yesterday, but I play a good one. At least a fascinating one. More than compensating for yesterday’s piece of shit. Stay tuned.

I Rule In My Favor.

I was at the library tonight. 
I know what day it is. 
I didn’t lose my pants. 
This might be my car. 
I know how to drive. 
 –Lies I’ve told cops.

It’s a two-way street. (No pun intended.) The judge presiding over my impending jury duty informed us that a detective would be testifying, and wanted to know: do you think law enforcement always tells the truth, or is capable of lying?

Each juror took an inordinate amount of time answering this simple question. On the third day of trying to assemble these “peers,” I realized what I needed to say:

“Your honor, I hope this doesn’t affect my chances of serving on this case – because I really want to – but in this very building a police officer lied in my presence. Ten years ago, I rolled through a stop sign while going about three miles per hour. While I admit I was in the wrong, I came here for traffic court, hoping the officer wouldn’t show. He showed alright, and told the judge I was going 30 miles per hour. Cops lie. I don’t think the detective will in today’s case, and again, I really want to serve, but you asked and I’m answering.” 

And just like that, I was thanked for my service and dismissed. Thank Jesus. More importantly, thank that shitbag coward of a cop who hides behind stop signs waiting to ruin people’s days, only to then commit perjury, because ten years later it got me out of serving on a jury. Much appreciated, asshole.

My Favorite Movie Of 2019.

If you wrong me, I’ll forgive you, but I’ll hope your death is written, produced and directed by Quentin Tarantino.

It gets a little violent, Once Upon a Time in… Hollywood, but not on the level of his other films. If anything, it’s badass and made me laugh. The film overall is so great, and a perfect homage to Quentin’s favorite place and time: LA in 1969.

Extra surreal for me: I saw it at the Cineramadome, which is featured twice in the movie. (And on the above movie poster.)

I was supposed to see it opening night, but couldn’t for the best reason: I was shooting one of the leading roles in a movie. Life imitating art. Now, three weeks later, you can see the theater is emptying a bit, so see it on the big screen (it’s shot like every other Tarantino film, on 35mm film) before it’s gone.

Make It Stop.

The only people on this planet worse than ISIS are the ones in jury pools who are IN A JURY POOL but don’t know THEY’RE IN A JURY POOL.

The judge told us the case would be in deliberations today, finishing up, but instead, they’re still choosing a jury, because the potential jurors can’t answer simple yes or no questions without long pauses and even longer answers.

It’s like being at the mercy of the slowest passengers getting off a plane, only worse. People who won’t take trains because they’re a couple of hours slower than planes need to meet the people who take planes.

Maybe I’ll spice things up today by reading this blog entry out loud in court so I can get held in contempt. Jury of your “peers.” Right.

It’s Like I’m In Some Sort Of Prison.

Myth busted on my first day in court: NO jester.

Yes, I said first day, because I have to go back today. It’s looking slightly in my favor that I won’t have to actually serve, as I’m still watching from the gallery as voir dire is being conducted.

It’s quite the comedown, going from my favorite place – a movie set – to the place where hope goes to die. Courthouses are depressing. Like crucifixion art.

Speaking of which, pray for me.

Oh For F’s Sake.

Jury duty is like a party you really don’t want to go to. You know showing up is the right thing to do, but you really hope there’s a murder to make it all worthwhile.

I’ve been on call this week for jury duty, and made it through the first two days unscathed. Unfortunately, I have to report today. I have much better things to do than try every excuse in the book to get out of being pulled into a trial. That said, I think my game plan will be to appear “too” happy to serve. “I hate criminals, and I’m SO proud to be able to do my civic duty and put one of them away for good.” Wish me luck.

Oh Yes.

If you see me running and there's no ice cream truck in front of me, trust me – you’d better start running, too.

I can really put it away. So imagine how gloriously my head exploded when I found out the last three days of the shoot would be on location at an ice cream shop. With full access to the ice cream.

Don’t let the above taped-down coolers fool you. “NO” was just meant to ward off the child extras from reaching in while we shot.

Once you get me started... I even ate the prop sundae.

The location was Handel’s in Northridge. A very popular, Ohio-based family business featuring 55 flavors. But it ain’t all wholesome – behind that trash can underneath the register is a baseball bat. Challenge accepted.

I’m In Her Movie.

Kevin Hart is in so many films, I’m surprised he didn’t just wander onto our set and say, “I’m in this now.”

Instead, I got to work with a much cuter co-star: Kylee Levien. She’s 10, and my new buddy. She’s not just a super-talented actress, but an expert when it comes to creating rubber-band bracelets for the entire cast and crew.

She made mine right before I nailed my favorite scene of the movie, so I consider it good luck and have not taken it off since. 16 days so far. Top that, Kevin Hart.

31 Seconds Of July.

Kraft recalled 96,000 pounds of cheese-filled hot dogs. I recall 96,000 pounds of cheese-filled hot dogs, too. That was one helluva July.

Here’s my latest July, one second per day:

Wrapped.

We finished shooting the movie late last night, and I’m really bummed it’s over. It was one of the best experiences of my life. I have dozens more posts about it coming up, but in the meantime, I’ll use my go-to quote, courtesy of Dr. Seuss: “Don’t cry because it’s over; smile because it happened.”

Flawless-ish.

Each day, after they finish with me, I like to joke with the makeup artists on this shoot that “I wake up looking like this.” But later, after I take the makeup off, I look like a Victorian child sick with influenza who won’t make it through the winter.

Men Crush.

I always list Kurt Russell as my emergency contact. That way, I can meet him before I die. Dude’s a legend.

Until then, the closest I’ve gotten to him is happening now. Above is Kurt’s mic pack from Bone Tomahawk. It’s being used by my co-star on my current shoot, and the crew and I are in constant awe. Our sound guy, who worked with Kurt on Bone Tomahawk, said he’s as cool and nice as we all hoped he’d be.

I guess it’s true – not all heroes wear capes.

Greetings From The Set.

Don’t let her dead eyes fool you – we’re having the best time.

Name Your Poison.

Did you know Windex Multi-Surface kills 99.9% of germs, and my toothpaste has tartar control? You would if you sat in my bathroom without your phone.

But he’s a tidbit I learned outside the latrine: poison ivy doesn’t grow in California. That’s good for me, because I was highly allergic as a kid, and it always seemed to find me.

What we get out here is poison oak, and there was plenty of it as we shot in Griffith Park yesterday. The traffic cone the crew threw down to mark it helped until I had to shoot scenes running through the woods at night. If any of that vile weed got on me, I’ll find out today, and I’m not sure what will be worse: the constant itching, or having to rewrite my character as some dude with a nasty skin condition. Let’s pull for neither.

Quiet By The Set.

I don’t understand why people have to “get ready” for bed. I’m always ready for bed.

These shoot days have been the most fun, yet exhausting, days of my life. It’s not a zombie film; I merely feel like a zombie. So at Griffith Park yesterday, I napped in between scenes in my stark, yet cozy trailer.

Forgive me for yet another short entry this week, but I’m about to squeeze in four hours of sleep before recording an early-morning audition and then going back to work. Wouldn’t trade it for a thing.