In Which I Bomb Twice At Ralph’s.

People used to laugh when I said I wanted to be an actor. Well, no one’s laughing now. Wait.

I was in the produce section the other day approaching the green-leaf lettuce, when one just fell off the shelf into my hands. I turned to a couple next to me and said, “Did you see that? It’s a sign. Like the puppy in a litter that jumps into your lap.” They looked at me like I was nuts.

Then, as I checked out, the guy behind me put only Reese’s multipacks and burritos on the conveyor belt. I told him, “Hey, you bought my lunch!” Not even a smirk.

Thanks, folks. You’ve been great.

My Blown Glass.

Keep a glass of vodka next to the water on your nightstand for a refreshing morning game of Russian roulette.

I now have just the glass for it. I picked up the pieces from my glassblowing class, and I’m quite happy with them. They’ll be displayed on a shelf as symbols of my great desire for learning new skills for the rest of my life. Or be destroyed in an earthquake. Whichever comes first.

It’s A Blast.

I barely flinch when I hear gunshots, but I’ll jump a foot in the air in terror if your landline phone goes off.

It was back to the gun-range yesterday – albeit a different one (SharpShooter, in Torrance) – with my friend Ariel. We actors decided we needed a fresh two-shot (no pun intended) of us, and we did just that:
 
We won’t say how we pulled this off, but you’ll see Ariel behind me with our alibi: there were actually three of us there, including our friend Billy, and we chose to have him get in front of us and record. Mistakes were made, etc., etc. Anyhoo, check out the groovy natural sound design. Billy would have loved it.

Maryland Leftovers.

Hey religion: pics or it didn’t happen.

My trip back to Maryland definitely happened, and I extra photos to prove it. Above, basketball and crab nachos. That’s what Maryland does.

Speaking of which, when I was a kid, my family had a vacation condo in Ocean City, MD. My brothers and I spent every Memorial Day weekend on a dock, catching over 300 crabs, which we’d bring upstairs to our dad, who steamed them in a giant pot with Old Bay seasoning. This memory flooded back when I ordered the Old Bae sushi at Kanaki.

One more shot of the boys at Rare, before we sat down to a sensible meal of an 80 oz. steak.

 
The original, and best, flag drop. This gives me chills. And makes me ever prouder to be a Terp.

Good Boy, On A Bad Day.

It’s been said dogs can have the mentality of up to a three-year-old child, and I believe it. They sense when you’re down, or sick, and instantly go into comfort mode. Yesterday Ricky was there for my friend Mark, as I helped him move into a new home with his girlfriend Toni.

It was one of the saddest days in Los Angeles. Kobe Bryant dying really rocked Mark because Mark’s best friend is Lakers’ trainer Gunnar Peterson. Gunnar texted Mark from the team plane as they flew back from Philadelphia, right after Kobe had died, and said the team was inconsolable.

Mark and Toni want to adopt an older Pit Bull soon, and loved having Ricky there as a surrogate. I’m glad he could give them a little lift. Toni rewarded Ricky with a home-cooked meal of salmon and rice. He earned it.

This Is A Baseball Movie Now?

Netflix: Because you watched that one movie that had Christmas lights in the background of a scene, here are 37 original holiday movies you might enjoy.

Die Hard, by the way, is not a Christmas movie. Neither is Lethal Weapon. And if you think they are, the Shining is a definitely a Christmas movie, because there’s snow in it.

That said, Naked Gun is not a baseball movie, Major League Baseball Network. And now that this is all cleared up, we can return to the important debates, like is a hot dog a sandwich.

I Blow Glass.

Just once I’d like to walk around nude drinking a scotch without an art class trying to sketch me.

But I get it. The arts. I’ve recently taught myself how to cook. And paint. I made soap. I grew a lawn from scratch. I’m a renaissance man. Except I’m not riddled with plague.

I don’t recall exactly what made me look up glassblowing classes last week, but I found a great one in Venice, and yesterday, I went from complete novice to a guy who created three pieces of glass. I don’t have pictures of them yet, because they’ll be in the annealer (a kiln-like contraption; I know way too many glassblowing words now) until Friday.

Yeah it’s all nutty, but I love learning new, creative things. It’s meditative. It’s fun. It makes me better at problem solving. It makes me a better actor. Whoever dies with the most skills wins.

Much Respect.

If a cop pulls you over and asks if you know why, just answer “Ae you giving me a ticket or a quiz.” You’ll get a free ride in his car.

I’m suggesting this to you, car in front of me with hats placed on the rear headrests so you can ride in the carpool lane. This scam is just crazy enough to not work.

Superhawk!

How do I like my steak? Gimongous.

Saturday night, ten of us – frat brothers, wives and girlfriends, had dinner at Rare, just around the corner from the White House. Our server, Allison (the job title on her business card is “Captain,” which is cool), sensed we were game for anything, and mentioned something off the menu: “superhawk.” 80 oz. of meat. My pledge-trainer Al, pictured next to me,  is a frequent steakhouse attendee, yet he lit up like a little kid. We all did. Game on.

Back in the kitchen, the chef was thrilled to hear our order. I suppose few rubes like us actually go for this monstrosity. The staff made a show of it. After the chef used a ban saw to cut the meat, Allison hauled it out pre-cooked so we could Instagram the shit out of it. Rare had a woodworker craft a special rack on which to serve it post-grill, Flintstones style. Get the rack – the TEΦ house is here.

Helping us class-up the joint were the ladies. Thank goodness, because the doors to the XXXL wine fridge swung in, and as we men lost our balance taking this shot, our butts came this close to tacking a couple more grand onto the bill. Great night, greater people.

Basketball With The Booze Brothers.

SECURITY GUARD: “Do you guys have alcohol on you?”
US: “We don’t think so. Hold these flasks while we check.”

My friend Jack, above on the right, brought two bladders full of homemade old fashioneds into the arena and we watched our Maryland basketball team beat Purdue. We’ve come a long way since we were keystering in grain punch.

Pregrame. It was snowing Saturday morning on campus, which I think is the most beautiful campus in the country, and it brought back the best memories. If you or your kids are debating whether to attend a big college or a small one, go big – with major sports on campus. You will forever feel an allegiance to your teams, and gamedays are electric.

Post-game, ESPN host and extra proud Maryland alum Scott Van Pelt held court. The guy I really want to meet now is Larry David, who attended Maryland in the 60s, and was a member of my fraternity. When I do bump into him (or better yet, work with him), I’m totally going to give him the secret handshake.

My Brothers.

A fraternity reunion. Catching up. Bonding. Sharing memories about sharing the same bottle of axe body spray.

We had a great dinner and lots of drinks last night. There were many more guys than just the four of us pictured, but I was having such a good time I neglected to snap a lot of photos. More on that later. I’m tired. But it’s good to be back with the boys.

Back To School.

I don’t go to high school reunions because Facebook lets me judge my old classmates every day, and not just every 10 years.

But college fraternity reunions, on the other hand, count me in. I’m headed to DC today for a reunion dinner tonight with my frat brothers, and to see a Maryland basketball game on Saturday. Can’t wait.

If my post tomorrow is in any way incoherent, I plead jet lag.

I Voted.

Every vote counts! Unless you forget to post your “I voted” sticker on Instagram. Then your ballot gets thrown into an incinerator.

The SAG Awards are unique in that they only honor actors – both individual performances and entire casts. The category that challenged me most was outstanding cast in a motion picture. I loved all five films and the performances were excellent. I suppose I chose Jojo Rabbit because it straddled the line between farce and tragedy. Not so easy to make the Holocaust funny, and yet, it happened.

The ceremony airs Sunday night. Go actors.

New York Leftovers.

Forget nudes. Send me your dinner leftovers.

I have a few mutant pics from my holiday trip that didn’t make posts. Above, I’ve mentioned before that a great quirk of my family was replacing each of our blonde cocker spaniels with another one with the same name. I learned how to swim in this pool by our home three Ollies ago.

My mom is a great cook, and makes the best latkes. Just one of the reasons why I put on nine lbs. in ten days.

I love that the arm of my union that provides assistance and educational programming named this building after the nicest man in show business.

For charity every year, Yankees General Manager Brian Cashman rappels down this building in Stamford, CT. This year, with the Yankees pursuing the best pitcher in baseball, office workers in the building got wise, printing “Sign Gerrit Cole!” on 8 ½” x 11” sheets and taping them to the windows down Cashman’s route. A week later, he signed Cole.

Driving through Greenwich, CT, I came upon a pair of old inscribed pillars. Perhaps they commemorated a historic battle of the Revolutionary War? No, they were just kissing the butt of local companies like Conde Nast. For shame.

I thought I loved the retro-ness of the TWA Hotel at JFK Airport before, but now, with a rink outside featuring skaters in pilot and stewardess costumes doing pirouettes, I’m all in.

You may recognize this groovy mosaic at LAX…

…from Once Upon a Time…In Hollywood. Unless things were different at LAX in the 60s, there’s a tiny bit of creative license here with Brad Pitt in the background pushing luggage. In reality, this tunnel takes you from the gate to baggage claim to pick up your bags. Love the movie nonetheless.

This Is What Happens When You Lie On Your Resumé.

Can someone recommend a YouTube tutorial?

My 10 Favorite Films Of 2019.

What the world needs now is a self-help movie, because let’s face it – most of us won’t read the book.
Whatever. Movies are so much better than books. And before the Oscar nominees are announced Monday, I wanted to post list what I thought were the best movies of the year. With the disclaimer that while I watch most of the major films, I did not see all of them yet. (Seeing 1917 soon.)

Jojo Rabbit. A little boy’s imaginary friend is Adolph Hitler. This movie is unlike anything else. Taika Waititi wrote, directed and stars as Hitler, mincing about the boy’s life. Taika is the second coming of Sacha Baron Cohen. Also great in this: Sam Rockwell, one of my all-time favorites, as a drunken Nazi youth-camp director, and Scarlett Johansson, as a playful, loving mom/resistance fighter.

Parasite. I don’t want too much of this movie away. It has grifting and is at times a thriller, but unfortunately isn’t in English. When the director won the Golden Globe over the weekend, he was right when he said that if you can get over the hurdle of one-inch subtitles, you will open yourself up to so many great movies. This one would be a smash hit if it were made in America, and it’s about to be: HBO is turning it into a miniseries.

Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood. Quentin Tarantino doesn’t follow the rules of dialogue, editing, music or endings. Anyone who has a problem with this ending must keep in mind it’s a fairytale. It says so in the title.

Ad Astra. Brad Pitt on a mission to track down his madman father. It’s Apocalypse Now in outer space. There’s a badass chase scene on the surface of the moon. Brad subtly crying is one of the saddest scenes of the year. My only problem is that my friend Matthew’s scene was cut from the film.

Marriage Story. Some films are so real they feel like documentaries. This is a fascinating look into why relationships sometimes just run their course, and how quickly a breakup can go from amicable to attack mode. And then no one wins, except the lawyers. Laura Dern won a Golden Globe for playing a lawyer in this, based on her and co-star Scarlett Johansson’s real divorce lawyer. By the way, nice year for Scarlett and Brad Pitt.

Uncut Gems. Adam Sandler and Kevin Garnett are excellent. This movie is tough to recommend, in the best way. Movies like this – Goodfellas, for example – capture the most disturbing sides of life. Don’t bring the kids.

The Irishman. Like Quentin Tarantino, Scorsese films instantly have a unique feel. I’d pay double to see anything either of them do. It’s so great to see Joe Pesci back – he still has a dangerous presence on screen. Regarding the length, Gene Siskel said it right: a bad movie can never be short enough; a great movie can never last long enough.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood. I read the actual article this movie is based upon, and it proved even more that Mr. Rogers was put on this planet to make it a better place. Seeing this movie will help prolong his legacy by making you a more compassionate person.

Knives Out. A funny murder mystery is a tough putt, but this movie gets is so right. Daniel Craig always seems happy to disappear into something other than James Bond. I was thrilled when my niece messaged me that a sequel is in the works.

Voice, And Embodiment, Of God.

I think it’s risky to have heroes, but I also think there should be a national monument to the brave souls who are “First!” in Instagram comments.

Risky because they really may disappoint you when you meet them. Then again, not if they’re Johnny Holliday, the voice of University of Maryland sports for over 40 years. Johnny was the man when I was an undergrad, and hasn’t lost a step. He’s the tie that binds millions of us who attended the school, and when I met him for the first time during homecoming weekend in October, he spent a long, postgame commercial break getting to know me before he had to get back on the air. I almost shit.

Cut to last week, and my frat brother Buzzy, approached Johnny before a game and shot this:



Next week, I’m flying to DC/Maryland for a fraternity reunion dinner, then staying the weekend to see a game. Plus kibbitz with my good pal Johnny. See you soon.

It’s An Honor Just To Screen The Nominated.

I read about Tracy Morgan getting a kidney from his ex-girlfriend, and then thought about the women I’ve dated who wouldn’t loan out their DVDs.

I legally can’t give out my newest DVDs – they’re screeners for the SAG Awards. There are some very good latecomers this year, including one I viewed yesterday. (It was so real, I may never want to date again.)

I’ll post a list of my favorites on Friday, ahead of Monday’s Academy Award nominee announcement. I’m a giver.

Come And Get ‘Em.

Three things I dip my soft pretzels in:

1) Butter
2) Mustard
3) My feelings 

On the first day of 2017, I kicked off my first resolution – teaching myself to bake/cook – by making buttery soft pretzels. They were delectable, and made my apartment smell like Yankee Stadium, minus the weed.

Two New Year’s Days later, it’s become a tradition, but more importantly, it’s a lesson in making your resolutions attainable – like not becoming pope or getting right out of bed the second you have to pee in the middle of the night.

Either way, stop by if you’re in the neighborhood and I’ll heat one up for you.

With A Bang.

I lived in Texas for a short time. Every New Year’s Eve, the state would run ads reminding people not to shoot guns, because bullets come down. That’s right – they had commercials for gravity.

My new year has been terrific, and I’m trying to do something extra special every day. Yesterday, my friend Ariel and I went to LAX Firing Range, and got our testosterone on. (The employee checking us in asked us if we were police or military, and Ariel replied, “No, but we play them on TV.”)

 
Quick video of me shooting the 9mm. Gravity-free.

31 Seconds Of December

Most months may feel depressing, but December is depressing with tinsel.

My December was actually uplifting. Here it is, one second per day:

Now At A Studio 54 Near You.

If I could time travel, I’d go back and grab me in college and say, “Yes, books will nourish your soul, but take an appliance repair class.”

The Sound Inside is all about books and college and is a fascinating drama. It features only two characters: a creative writing professor at Yale and her student. The professor is played by Mary-Louise Parker, and before the play began, the audience was told no less than five times to make sure their phones were turned off. Then a theater employee told my mom and me to make sure we didn’t relax and put our feet up on the stage during the show. (My mom always gets kickass seats.) I assured the employee we weren’t tourists.

It made me wonder if Mary-Louise had really straightened out the staff about this, but then the play began, and she essentially had 90 minutes of continuous dialogue, and at one point sat on the edge of the stage, dangling her feet, her face about a foot-and-a-half from us. It was clear that any actor needed full concentration to encompass this role. She’s amazing.

The play is currently running at Studio 54, which had been a CBS studio before its outrageous night club era. It’s now reverted back to being a theater, but still retains much of its 70s gaudiness. Check out the lobby:

And the ceiling. All added to the experience. The play is great, and the space just as cool. If you’re in New York, you’ve got to see it.

Happy New Year. I Promise.

Not to brag, but I just completed my childhood New Year’s resolution: I correctly programmed my VCR.

Make resolutions. Seriously. I write them down, and at the end of year, I highlight the ones I’ve kept. My batting average is pretty high.

And even if you can’t live up to them, you have an out – just give them all up for Lent.