The Grassy Knoll. It’s All Downhill.

I still remember what I was doing when I found out Kennedy had been shot: sitting at home, reading the JFK Wikipedia page. 

It’s always surreal to stand on spot on which the world has been focused for nearly 60 years, and it’s a real spot all right. The yellow X on the street in front of the SUV marks where the first bullet hit the President. 

It also marks the only thing there is to do in Dallas besides drinking and shopping. When I was living there, I brought anyone who visited me to the book depository first thing, and then I guess we got drunk and bought shit. And that is the real tragedy.

Wishing Everyone Back Home A Happy Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving in an election year is extra special because it means there will be at least four fist fights and someone’s getting disowned. 

It’s a little sad I won’t be with family for any of those precious moments, but I’m having a lot of fun here in Dallas. In fact, I’m starting the day at the grassy knoll. I should have this whole second gunman thing solved by dinner.

Be More Texas.

In Texas, you’re allowed to shoot someone just for being on your property. Man, if I still lived here I’d host SO many parties. 

Question the theme all you want, and the real rod and boat protruding from the wall, but honestly, this is a finely-detailed painting I thought wasn’t created anymore. Yes, it’s at a Whataburger, and yes, it’s above a menu which includes a Dr. Pepper shake, but still. 

Next to my hotel, this rustic wagon is a nice touch. The venomous snakes are a toss-up. 

Bass Pro Shop. Be more Texas.

You Get What You Need.

I’m like a mother bear defending her cubs, only I’m defending the fresh pan of bacon from other hotel guests at the breakfast buffet. 

During COVID, the continental breakfast Belgian waffles drizzled with syrup that are featured on the Hyatt Place’s online pics have been replaced with a thrice-stapled brown bag “walkaway breakfast” consisting of bottled water, an orange and a sweaty muffin. 

It’s 51% bitter, 49% sweet to be back in Dallas. When I lived here, the part of my brain that helps curb impulsive behavior had not yet fully developed. After breakfast yesterday, I cruised over to find my old apartment. It was located in a thatch of 10,000 garden-style places known collectively as “The Village,” and segmented into such overpromising neighborhood names as “The Lakes” and “Upper East Side.” 

Living in The Village was something you hesitated to share with people. It served its purpose – for $400/month, I had an okay place with tons of free parking, access to dozens of pools, a gym, a restaurant and I played on an intramural-like men’s softball team. But I wasn’t winning. Yesterday, after 45 minutes of confused walking around the maze that is The Corners, I realized my apartment was no longer there. The complex had been cut in half to build a slightly fancier brick-faced/garage parking segment called “Dakota.” 

I drove back to my hotel, and thought about my life in the apartment that is no longer there. Back then, I was verbally abused professionally by some shitbag guys, dated a full-on bitch before letting her break my heart and a Ford salesman sold me a used Mustang financed at 14.5%, assuring me that was a normal rate. These days, I wouldn’t put up with any of that for two seconds. Me today and me back then are Matt Shevin by name only. 

I love living in LA. I’m wired for it. I love my career and my dog and the beach and that my brother and his family live so close by. I became who I was meant to be there. As sentimental as I thought I was, I learned a good lesson yesterday. May we all have our bad memories bulldozed.

Flying, 2020.

Imagine our embarrassment when we both showed up to the flight wearing the same clear plastic poncho. 

In her defense, I much prefer those who err on the caution vs. virus-denying rednecks. Speaking of Dallas, I arrived here yesterday. 

It’s always interesting to be back. Slight change in itinerary: I was supposed to stay with my friend Michelle this week, but she woke up not feeling well on Friday. Her doctor is 99% sure she didn’t contract COVID, but Michelle has been fighting lung cancer for three years and is compromised, so while she waits for her virus test results, I’m staying in a hotel for the first few days. The place is empty. All I need is a Big Wheel to complete The Shining motif. 

So I’m on my own and making the most of it. I ordered out from Cracker Barrel for the first time in my life last night, and my takeaway is that obesity is delicious.

Gone South.

I lived in Texas for a couple years before moving to LA, statistically decreasing the chance I ever get the death penalty, and that’s pretty cool. 

I’m headed back there Sunday, this time for fried Turkey (not fried murderer), when I visit my friend Michelle in Dallas for Thanksgiving. I haven’t been outside LA or Orange County in 10 months, so I’m very much looking forward to this. 

I’ll blog from there, and eat, and avoid committing an atrocity.

This Guy Gets It.

The worst part about working from home is when your coworkers clog the toilet. 

The best part is finding out which of my neighbors have loud leaf blowers and barking dogs. All of them. The answer is all of them. 

But I’m especially impressed with the guy down the street who has turned his garage into the ultimate al fresco Cali workspace, while still retaining its unibomber vibe. I told him if he moved out there because he’s fighting with his wife, he should hire an imaginary coworker to blame things on. You know – “Brad” has been leaving his dirty plates all over the place and we don’t know what to do about him.

29 Seconds Of Fall, 2020.

Some people shouldn’t be informed when this quarantine is over. 

You heard me. Let the rest of us get out there, live our lives and record one second every day. Not this sporadic crap:

 

Done.

Game Off.

If you think today’s kids spend too much time playing video games, you should’ve seen how much time we spent just waiting for the games to load. 

Wednesday night, when the long-awaited PlayStation 5 finally launched, my nephew, Jackson, logged onto three sites and hit refresh for 90 minutes before he miraculously snatched one up. Even New York Yankee star Clint Frazier, with all his connections, came up empty:

i didn't stand a chance at getting the ps5 before it sold out

— Clint Frazier (@clintfrazier) November 12, 2020

Then a new wait began. My brother, as stern a father as they come, wouldn’t let Jackson open it until the holidays. Jackson passive-aggressively left the box in the middle of his room hoping his dad would trip over it and relent. 

My brother then teased Jackson, saying that if he played hard in his club baseball game yesterday, he’d consider letting him open the box. Jackson made like Clint Frazier and raked, including a triple with men on. 

I asked if his dad let him open the PS5 last night, and the status has been upgraded to “No, but he said he would.” Join me in thinking good thoughts.

Who’s With Me?

16 years ago, Greece won Euro 2004. Today, I think Greece would be happy with 2004 euros. 

That said, I stumbled across one fancy spot still there: Stella Resort in Crete. It’s on the ocean, yet also has a swim-up pool to each villa. The second this quarantine ends, we’re going.

Ricky’s Stand-In.

I couldn’t ask for a better partner than Ricky. He’s the Thelma to my Louise. The Ben to my Jerry. The Kanye to my Kanye. 

He really came through when we recreated the door scene from The Shining:

  

Very few dogs will commit like that. But yesterday we stumbled across a neighbor, poking his head through a birthday greeting. Kid’s got the stuff. When the hiatus is over, the cast may expand.

My Default.

If I were an EMT, I would totally use the defibrillator paddles to make paninis. 

When I was donating blood last week, a nurse wanted to know if I was an actual EMT or fireman – mainly because of the Teamsters t-shirt I was wearing, partially because of my demeanor. I was flattered, and gave her the slightly obnoxious but entirely fulfilling answer, “No, but I play them on TV.” 

My new headshots will hopefully help me land auditions to keep getting these roles. Above is my default shot – the one that gives me the most range for comedy and drama. My agent calls it my Don Draper, minus the day-drinking. Very happy with it.

Carry-On.

Thanksgiving is a time to gather with your family and realize why you only allow them in your house once a year. 

That said, it’s still my favorite day. My brother has upwards of 40 people over and we eat the best food and have so much fun. 

But this year, because everything is upside down, it’s not going to happen. My brother is going to his in-laws in San Francisco, and I was bummed about it. Then my friend Michelle invited me to come to Dallas Thanksgiving week and stay with her, and I immediately booked a trip. It’ll be my first time flying since January, and I can’t wait. 

I hope everyone is okay that weekend and around people you love, and if you’re not, I will FaceTime the hell out of you. Let me know.

The Most Silver Of Linings.

Kanye West says he’s the Michael Jordan of music. If he’s talking about the time in which Michael Jordan was playing baseball, then I totally agree. 

One of my brother’s neighbors still has a Kanye placard on his front lawn. If America had elected him President, I would’ve packed up Canada and moved it to Australia. 

Regardless of which side you were on, I think we all can agree and be united over Kanye not winning. The 60,000 people who voted for him, however, ought to be rounded up by Child Services. The rest of us can now get to back to normal. Remember: the secret to happiness is having things to look forward to. The holidays, a new year, a vaccine. That’s what I’m choosing.

Celebrating With A Pint.

 

Thoughts On A Headshot Session.

Michael Jackson would be 62 today if he hadn’t hired such a gifted nap specialist. 

 At least his music lives on. This song came on during my headshot session Tuesday:

   

If you’re going to cover a song, take a big swing at the pitch. It put me in the right mood, which is important when you’re getting your photos taken. Here’s a trick: take your hand and cover the eyes of an actor on his headshot and focus on his smile. If it doesn’t look genuine, he wasn’t comfortable with the photographer. And he’s doing himself a disservice. 

David Muller took my shots. In addition to playing good music, he’s super cool and gets a lot done fast. We talked football in between setups. He used great lighting and interesting backgrounds to enhance my wardrobe. An hour after we finished, he sent me all of the photos from our session. Total pro. Tell him I sent you.

399 To Go.

I thought about becoming a professional photographer, but I’d rather be just a club photographer – so I can take pictures at the club and have people pay me to delete them.

I had a headshot session yesterday with a real pro: David Muller. It went really well. I’m now sifting through 400 pictures trying to choose five favorites. It’s a great problem to have.

Endorsement.

I’m voting for whoever my dog thinks I should and guess what – my vote counts just as much as yours.

Suckas.

The Nerd Is Strong With This One.

I haven’t seen the latest Star Wars and I plan on keeping it that way simply because the reaction I get when telling someone I’ve haven’t seen it is far more enjoyable than any movie I’ve ever seen. 

Ricky even tried to convince me Saturday, with a makeshift Halloween costume. No sale. But the highlight of yet another unfortunate lost holiday. 

This all sucks. But it’s temporary. Don’t forget that.