Another Real Casting Notice I’ve Seen This Week.

And here I thought the mob didn’t exist:

Is there someone in your life that you are feuding with? *A Boyfriend? An ex? A mother in-law? A roommate? A co-worker? A best friend? *Is there someone you can never get to see your point of view? "The Sit Down" is a new series that is steeped in the tradition of the mafia "Sit down". Your age-old conflicts will be addressed over a 4-course meal. Matters of vital importance will be decided. If you are ready to bury the hatched, and sit down with a former New York mobster and craft a resolution, on thing is certain.it is going to be held at a great restaurant over a great meal. Amazing 4 star, 4 course meal, the opportunity to resolve your conflict by talking it out with a renown mobster the old-fashioned way- AND- get paid $250 each!!!!

My Brother From A British Mother.

In a study published in the Psychonomic Bulletin & Review (I read it for the pornography), experts attribute becoming a fan of a sports team as a form of escapism. An excuse to yell at something, an activity that may be constrained in other areas of one’s life. Unless you’re Jewish; then you just take it out on your parents.

It’s science, people.

Richard Price, a blogger in England, recently posted an entry about jerkoff Liverpool soccer fans who walk around town in their team’s entire uniform. He calls them Full-Kit Wankers. It’s awesome.

Snapping pics of idiots and blogging about them is my raison d'être. I love this guy. Keep it up, Richard. I got the states covered.

You, Bob Redford – You’re Good.

Summer blockbusters are nice, but I hear there’s an amazing French indy out right now. How about that documentary on the missing Detroit rocker dude that got a 96% on Rotten Tomatoes? Come on, I just wanna learn something. No? Well, can I get a little red wine going with my flick? Let’s slow jam.

The old Sunset Laemmle theater in West Hollywood used to be the place for less mainstream movies, and I had a real affinity for it. It was cozy, with character. The film that I wrote, produced and starred in screened there during a film festival. But time caught up with it and it grew increasingly more run down and smelly until it finally closed its doors last year. Sorry, Laemmle. Here’s your shawl.

But then Robert Redford stepped up and invested $2 million in the theater, stripping the shit out of it and turning it into his newest Sundance Cinema location. Featuring all kinds of shiny objects: digital projectors, reserved stadium seating with side tables, a bistro and a beer and wine bar. And best of all, it’ll be showing lots of independent films and documentaries.

Today, tickets go on sale for the new Sunset 5 for the first time. I’m gonna be there on Friday for opening night. New theater!

In the meantime, Laemmle, no recriminations. No one’s to blame. We just want different things. It’s not you. It’s me.

Real Los Angeles Heroes.

Here’s to you, guy who dumped about 150 books on the 405 Freeway.

Who needs a Kindle when you’ve got a flatbed trailer and a fistful of bungee cords?

Safe to say one of those books wasn’t a primer on haulin’ shit.

When you get a chance, let me know if the book I ran over and tore to shreds was Fifty Shades of Gray. Fingers crossed.

So way to go, Paperback Litterer. You prove that a guy driving an ’84 Bronco with a big-ass American flag in the rear window actually can read.

Weekend Recap.

This exquisite feast was lovingly prepared at Asanebo, the best Japanese restaurant in all of LA. (On any given night, you’ll be sitting next to George Clooney.) When I asked our server – my friend TJ – what the dish was called, he shrugged his shoulders and said, “Sushi.” He’s a dick… I drove by a roller derby team holding a car wash and some huge broad on roller skates pointed at me and motioned her way. At that point both my car and my boxer briefs needed a wash… Amazing, emotional season finale to “The Newsroom.” Sad to see it end for now, but I won’t miss all the douchey idiots on Twitter who go out of their way to proclaim this show horrible. Go tune in to “So You Thought You Could Watch This Show About Dancing” or whatever the F it’s called and just shut up.

LOVE, LOVE, LOVE This.

On display at ArcLight Cinema in Hollywood: original backlit posters of the worst movies ever made.

Get Your Butt To LA, Part 45: Got Her Butt To LA.

Back in 2010, a young actress named Emily was living in Virginia and dealing with the all the rigamarole that comes with showbiz aspiration: lack of funds, unsupportive family, scarcity of mentors. So when she emailed me asking for guidance, I replied with what the doctor said to me after my hepatitis test: “You got it, sweetheart.”

Cut to last month. As I was signing in to the PetSmart audition, I heard a voice behind me say, “I know you.” It was Emily, now living in Hollywood and interning for the casting office. I was really glad to see her, and after I auditioned I reminded her that if she ever had any questions, she knew where to find me.

Me offering help? Surely not possible. According to the lovely Lisa R.’s hate mail to me, I’m one ginormous, negative piece of shit, and it’s a wonder I didn’t get a “jeers” in Actor’s Blog Weekly.

Though here’s an email I received yesterday:

Hey Matt! Just wanted to let you know that I signed across the board (commercial and TV/movies) with an agent last week! It’s crazy to think that in just over a year and a half from starting to read your blog I’ve moved to LA, interned at a casting office and gotten representation! Thanks again for all your valuable advice. 

Cheers, 
Emily

What Lisa R.’s exhaustive vetting of me didn’t uncover was that the main reason I began writing this blog was to offer any help I could to actors who needed that push to get out here. I’m gonna convince everyone with a dream to move to LA and make it reality AND I’m gonna die trying.

Way to go, Emily.

I Have Magical Powers.

I don’t believe in luck or the supernatural or any of that nonsense. A black cat crossing your path means that it’s going somewhere.

But a couple of years ago, I blogged about having the power to both pick a TV exec up by his throat Darth Vader style, and shut down a C-rated chicken shack. (It’s now a Chase Bank that I assume reeks of fried gizzard.)

Here are a few new spooky circumstances from my life:

• In a writing piece I was working on recently, I joked about dropping a phone into a dog’s water dish. Last weekend, I did just that.

• I tweeted about going up to actor Fran Kranz and praising him for his work in an indy film called The TV Set. Three days later I was assigned a scene from that very film in a casting workshop.

• This one worked in reverse: I mentioned to a friend last month how much of an enormous crapshoot is it to book a modeling job – the casting folks bring in hundreds of people to audition, and you can’t use your acting skills to set yourself apart because they just take still photos of you, etc. The next day I booked the PetSmart shoot.

So it seems I still got it. I mention something, it materializes. Know what else? The Jets haven’t won a Super Bowl since 1969. Reality show producers should be forced to apologize door-to-door. And it’s a truly rare occurrence that a suitcase full of unmarked hundreds gets tossed into my front yard while nobody’s looking.

More Excerpts From My Text Messages.

With my replies in blue:

Random Shots I’m Deleting: An iPhone™ Purge.

Realizing your iPhone is no longer capable of holding a charge is like finding out the hot woman you’ve been dating is crazy.

So as I count the days until the iPhone 5 is released, I’ll occasionally post a pic from my handicapable iPhone 4. Like the one above, from JFK Airport. That would be an illustration of a fly baked into the porcelain of the men’s urinal.

I’ll turn this post over to an article by Robert Krulwich to explain:

“The fly is there on purpose and has reduced spillage by 80 percent. Authorities at Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam tell us that the flies etched on the urinals ‘save us a lot of money on cleaning.’ 

While companies dabbled with a bull’s-eye design, flies seem to have a special appeal. Men like to aim.

Guys want to directly aim at an animal they can immobilize.”

I can vouch, and say with full confidence I pissed the shit out of that fly. You’re welcome, JFK custodial staff.

Do Not Adjust Your Monitor.

Mental note: I may want to go a teeny bit slower than 95 mph when snapping a pic. But hey – you’d speed too if your radio was playing DJ Assault’s “Ass-N-Titties.”

What you’re looking is a warning that Carmageddon II is coming (the sign says the 405 Freeway will be closed from the 10 Freeway to the 101), September 29th and 30th. Only in Los Angeles can a freeway shutdown spawn a sequel.

My Money’s On The Puppy.

Inside The Actor’s Studio Apartment: The Spinoff.

Pulling into my hero’s parking spot I felt a numbness in my belly. That taste of Pulitzer-worthy talent was a pleasurable and addictive sensation. They don’t call it dopamine for nothing.

It ain’t the first time I’ve entered restricted airspace, and it certainly won’t be the last, now that I’m seriously considering a secondary blog, in which I pull into all sorts of iconic parking spaces and chronicle the ramifications.

And then Aaron Sorkin will decide he must make me the third installment in his Mark Zuckerberg/Steve Jobs genius trilogy. Or maybe not. No bad ideas, people.

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

• My friends and I are notorious credit-card splitters. We were most recently banned from Ink on Melrose. Try the halibut; don’t tell them you know me.

• I considered becoming a lawyer, but law school would have gotten in the way of my reaching the 50th level of Super Mario Brothers. Priorities.

• Unfortunately, a car is only the fifth-most embarrassing place I’ve been caught air drumming to Rush.

• The American dream is having someone ask you to gain weight for a role.

• I wish I’d only seen my dad once every couple years, but as a Jew he felt the need to stick around so he could criticize full-time.

• You know, country clubs really do judge you by what you wear. It’s why I never leave home without my Bedazzler.

Let’s Just Retire The Term “Genius” Right Now.

When I was taking improv training, my classmates and I were often asked to rant about any subject for two minutes. More often than not, the topics focused on shitbag roommates. You know the types: greedy-ass homies who help themselves to your bong, or your last rolling paper, snatch out of your roach stash, or drink the last of the Kool-Aid. Or so I’ve been told.

I suppose I’m lucky; the only complaint I have about my roommate is that he’s chewing on my flip-flop – while it’s on my foot – as I type this. But there’s great news for my classmates. Yesterday someone sent me a link to the all-new Ben & Jerry’s Euphori-Lock – a combination lock to keep roommates (and your kids, and your tubby husband) out of your rightful dessert. It’s only $5.50, and guaranteed to make the inventor a millionaire.

So there you go, classmates. Get yourself a Euphori-Lock pronto. Or better yet, get yourself your own apartments. You’re grown-ass men.

More Trailers For Movies I Can’t Wait To See.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m also prepared for disappointment. These films could burst into flames or be found to cause cancer of extremities. But right now, I have to say, I’m fairly psyched:

 
Argo 
Main cast: Ben Affleck, Bryan Cranston, John Goodman
Premieres: September 14th
Thought: Whenever he directs, (Gone Baby Gone and The Town) all Ben Affleck does is hit home runs.

 
The Master 
Main cast: Joaquin Phoenix, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams
Premieres: September 14th
Thought: Argo and a Paul Thomas Anderson film opening on the same night? I’m packing an adult diaper and not missing a minute.

Killing Them Softly 
Main cast: Brad Pitt, Ray Liotta, Richard Jenkins
Premieres: October 19th
Thought: Brad Pitt as a hit-man who investigates the heist of a mob poker game. This movie is a performance enhancing drug.

Flight 
Main cast: Denzel Washington, John Goodman, Don Cheadle
Premieres: November 2nd
Thought: Denzel as Sully. With issues.

Weekend Recap: Featuring A Special Guest Blogger.

My weekend in one sentence: ate half a bag of Pirate Booty, threw it away in disgust, dug it out of the trash, then watched Oasis videos on YouTube. I suck.

My former neighbor Sharon, who now lives in Holland, MI, experienced something far more special on Saturday, and emailed me about it. I edited it down a bit to blog size (forgive me Sharon.) Forget about our athletes in London – this is our biggest win:

A marine who was from the local community died recently in Afghanistan. The funeral was yesterday. 

A friend from a town 30 miles away mentioned to me that she had heard Westboro Baptist Church (the “God Hates Fags” folks) was going to protest, and that locals were going to be outside the church where the funeral was held and along the funeral route to block Westboro folk from disrupting the service/tribute to a well-liked local who died in service. 

About a block from my home I noticed people lined up along the street with flags, wearing patriotic t-shirts, etc, and realized it was probably in honor of the marine. 

Had to run an errand, but when I went to turn on the street, I was directed to turn in the other direction by a police officer. There were literally thousands who had lined this particular street (the cemetery was about a block and a half away). It was both a bit eerie (ie, to be a lone car driving on it) and somewhat awe’ing (sp?) to see so many people lining the street with flags. 

I’m not exaggerating – there were literally thousands of motorcycles that went by, a majority of which had flags. Some had Patriot Guard Riders (the new movement to stifle Westboro) displayed on the lower part of their windshields. And there were thousands of locals with flags lined up on both sides of the streets for 7 blocks (the final part of the funeral route.) Everyone was very quiet & it was very respectful. 

Then the hearse went by, men removed baseball caps from their heads, people (including me) put their hands over their hearts to pay tribute. I found myself quite choked up, lump in my throat, tears in my eyes by everything – the motorcycle tribute, the thousands of locals showing support. I turned and my friend and others were wiping tears from their eyes. It’s something I will always remember; a tribute to a local who fell in service and a community's determination that Westboro would not be allowed to disrupt the honoring of this fallen solder. 

I read in today's paper that Westboro did not show up. I also read that Obama signed a bill last Monday where protests are not allowed to occur 2 hours before or after a funeral. I'm assuming that bill came about because of Westboro. 

Thanks, Sharon. America. F yeah.

Real Casting Notices I’ve Seen This Week.

• Prototypical opera singer with a dynamic voice that can shatter a wine glass.

• Bald athlete with a hair piece. (Must own your hair piece.)

• Someone to safely put cockroaches in their mouth. Must be able to provide photo or video proof that you have experience doing this.

• Males of all different shapes and body types to appear in various TV segments, involving balancing objects on your head, and having plungers thrown at you (to stick on to your back.)

This Week In @mattshevin Olympic Tweets.

• Enjoy your lead in the medal count, team China, before going back to your regularly scheduled lives. #AssemblingMyNewMacbookPro

• My recurring nightmare: NBC is only broadcasting rhythmic gymnastics, and there’s no way to kill myself.

• I like when Bob Costas gets out from behind the desk, puts on the less formal toupée and flirts with the female medal winners. #CasualFriday

• Trinidad and Tobago is the new Eric B. and Rakim.

• How does Chick-Fil-A feel about the men’s synchronized diving warm-down jacuzzi?

• Badminton players tanked matches? I haven’t seen this big a black eye since Rihanna and Chris Brown arrived at the Grammys. Folks!

Andy, With The Assist.

Hiatus is over, and I am only here to work and socialize. And I’m all out of socialize.

I had my busiest day of the year yesterday – so busy I didn’t even feel the earthquake. When I finally got home last night, I had to decide between focusing on Ricky, who patiently waited for me in his crate all day, and writing a blog entry. Rick won. We ran on the strand.

So click above, and enjoy Celeste and Jesse Forever star Andy Samberg, as he delivered this year’s Harvard Day speech. He’s damn good.

An Open Letter To Some Asshole Who Won’t Bother Reading It.

Dear Anonymous Emailer:

When you messaged me last week, asking where you should live when you move to LA, I was more than happy to reply.

But, young “actor” (hereafter I use the word with an asterisk of skepticism), you then replied back to me with this: “Thank you for the heads up bro! Are you also currently acting right now and represented by an Agency?”

I don’t know – am I? You obviously got my email address from the right side of this blog, but apparently it was too much of an effort to move your eyes one inch to the left and read a single entry. Or even the name of my blog.

Yeah, I’m represented by agents (the word’s not capitalized, genius) and watch how fast I recommend you to them. While I’m here, what else would you like? I mean, why not add a PS to your email, asking me to make you a grilled cheese sandwich and suck you off?

So come out to LA, and half-ass it for a few weeks before calling it quits. Then you can go back to sleeping on the floor of your uncle’s mattress store.

Sincerely,
Matthew

The Fifth Great Movie Of The Year.

I think it’s so sweet when people spend more time deciding if they want a tattoo than if they want marriage or kids.

Helping escalate the divorce rate is the continuing history of movies based on a couple of notions: opposites attract (nonsense), and you aren’t complete without a perfect relationship in your life (utter bullshit.)

You didn’t realize emotion could get in the way of living happily ever after? Have you not read the poetry of Jewel?

Actually, one of the best pleasures of seeing movies is experiencing moments of recognition – yes, that's exactly right, that’s exactly the way it would have happened. Shit gets messy.

Celeste and Jesse Forever is filled with moments like this. It has an eye and an ear for the way things really are. About once a decade, a movie captures this realism. In the 80s, it was About Last Night (my favorite movie of all time), in the 90s it was Love Jones, in the 2000s it was The Last Kiss.

Celeste and Jesse Forever stars Rashida Jones as Celeste, and she’s super cute and acts her ass off in a very emotional role. She wrote the film with her ex-boyfriend Will McCormack (now there’s an amicable breakup), who took a smaller role, but steals all of his scenes. Playing Rashida’s husband is Andy Samberg, and his character Jesse is goofy and sad and in over his head.

This is an independent film in almost every way, shot in three weeks with a budget so small, Rashida’s car in the film is her real Prius. Her house is hers, too. So it’s completely driven by dialogue and situations and it’s a film that’s real and hilarious and you should see it. Or just wait ten years for the next one.

Weekend Recap.

After six weeks of trying, my friends and I finally got a table at Ink, one LA Magazine’s top 10 new restaurants. It was completely worth the wait (literally. We could only manage a 10 p.m. reservation.) Pictured above (next to the poutine chickpea fries with yogurt curds on the right) is ham (more of a prosciutto) with manchego biscuits and almond butter. Who would’ve thought to pair almond butter with biscuits and ham? (Besides Elvis)… In a scene in a casting workshop, I had to get into a pushing confrontation with an actor who’s a former defensive end for Utah State. Let’s just say my quarterback would have had his spine severed… This is SO wrong… Ricky, who weighed 4 ½ lbs. when I rescued him in January, is now clocking in at 75 lbs. and still growing. That’s a lot of puppy.

Racist? Maybe. (Unintentionally.) But I Know That Gymnast!

 
I don’t see color. People tell me I’m white and I believe them because police officers call me “sir.”

And if you think NBC is a bunch of racists because they cut to a promo featuring a monkey gymnast right after Gabby Doublas won a gold medal, (click above) you are high. I watched it live and that thought never occurred to me. Face it – if your mind makes that immediate black person/monkey connection, you are racist.

Either way, I was just glad to see my buddy Crystal the Capuchin monkey booked a series. Well done, girl.

It’s Just His Way Of Saying “I Love You.”

Where does Matt Shevin go when he’s out on the town? To the Barnes & Noble bathroom.

But where does my friend Pat go? Out of town, actually, across the country on his Triumph. He’s on his annual summer trip from NYC to the west coast, and stopped by to have lunch and meet Ricky for the first time on Wednesday. (Luckily Pat was wearing his protective motorcycle jacket as Ricky is a pretty passionate greeter.)

Pat’s easily leading the most interesting life of anyone I know. He teaches at Frank Sinatra School of the Arts in Queens, a school founded by Tony Bennett. He’s an incredibly talented artist in his own right, and one of those teachers you only think exists in movies or TV, pushing special ed students to go far beyond their potential, so they can do so much more with their lives than they every imagined.

And he writes an amazing blog, which right now features details (and beautiful photos and stories) of nooks and crannies of America I never knew existed (including this jaw-dropping one in my own backyard.) I can’t recommend enough that you bookmark it and give it a serious gander:

NY Gumbo

My 1400th Entry.

I’m nothing if not efficient. I double-knot my shoelaces. I’ve flossed every day for twenty-two years. In Grand Theft Auto I pay the prostitutes promptly and never hit them with a bat.

But I’m still pleasantly surprised I’ve kept a blog going this long. 1400 entries? Someone better test my urine.

As is customary, I’ve selected my favorite five from the past 100 and post links. Here you go:

Real Los Angeles Heroes. Parking in LA is tricky – unless you’re a hoarder with a personality disorder. Cut the wheel and back it in here.

My Hate Mail. These people don’t necessarily hate me – they just hate my guts. Join hands and sing “Kumbaya” here.

I’m On TV This Week. If the camera puts on ten lbs., here’s hoping I become a big, fat shit. Catch me while I still fit into frame here.

My Favorite Place On Earth: An iPhone™ Photo Gallery. I’d want my ashes sprinkled there too, but I plan on being buried so I can come back as a zombie. In the meantime, grab a Yankee frank and an obscenely expensive seat here.

Get Your Butt To LA, Part 44: I Get Anecdotal On Your Ass. Someday the New York Jets will run a two-minute drill with this efficiency. Take a knee and start Tebowing here.

Why Am I Punishing Myself With A Daily Blog…

…when I can just flip two words and call it a morning?