Tuesday, September 25, 2007


Hi all... it's been a LONG time since my last post. It's been a busy month and I haven't really had the time to throw down with my usual blogging nonsense.

Speaking of nonsense... we all know by now that the only reason I even have a blog is so that I can post pictures of myself. So here is a REALLY current picture of me. I'm talking minutes old.

In the picture you may notice a few things.
1. I'm growing my hair out.
2. I have sideburns
3. My beard is getting longer
4. I'm going bald

Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves. I'm moving on...

Recently I started getting back into drawing and painting, which is something I haven't done since C & C Music Factory was telling Everybody to Dance Now. Anyway, I started with charcoal, then moved to pastels. And after getting seriously frustrated with my inability to control the pastels (and get fine detail), I moved on to watercolors. My first few tries were so-so, but I really like my latest piece.

Take a look and see for yourself...

I still have a long way to go before I am comfortable with the medium, but I thought this was a pretty good start. I also have to get more (better) supplies and I really need to learn many watercolor techniques. Oh yeah... and I need to find the time to add painting into the mix of my daily life.

Good luck with that, self.

Catch ya'll later!

Sunday, September 02, 2007

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME (or setting the world record for most times using the number 37 in one post)

Howdy all,

It's about twenty till midnight, which means I can still get this blog in on time.

I'm 37 years old and I'm not sure I like it. I will reserve judgement since I've only been 37 for 23 hours, but my first impression is that it's nothing to write home about. Honestly, I'm not really feeling 37. I don't even know what 37 is supposed to feel like.

If anyone who has lived through 37 would like to offer some insight, let me know what I'm in store for. Because it's not a landmark age so I don't really know what to expect.

Anyway, that's it for now. I'm sleepy...

Happy Birthday Self!

Saturday, September 01, 2007


Hey peeps,

I'm still pretty swamped with work and polishing my Grey's Anatomy spec (what else is new), so this is gonna be another short blog entry.

Enjoy this picture of my brother STEVE and his son ALEX...

Alex is getting big, huh. They grow up so fast!


Friday, August 31, 2007


Hi all...

I'll try to get on later so I can write something incredibly inane, but for now you will just have to tide yourselves over with a photo of my cousin, ELIZA!


Thursday, August 30, 2007


I just wanted to stop by (virtually speaking) and get in a quick blog before I scoot off to class. So this one is going to be short and sweet... like me circa 1984-85.

For years I have batted this idea around my ahead, and I wanted to put it out there in the universe... you know, throw it on the fridge to see if anyone salutes it.

Okay, mixed metaphors aside... I've been wanting to write a book called...

The Longest Suicide Note Ever

No, I don't want to kill myself... what I want to do is use the concept of a suicide note to say every bizarre thing that I ever wanted to say about anything and everything. No apologies, no holding back... I'm talking pure unadulterated booch dialectics. It will be like my Aristotle's Poetics. (Wow, that feels way self-centered and over-the-top-full-of-myself just writing it... and it might actually be a new low for me).

Okay, I may be overstating things a bit...

Seriously though, I've been bandying this idea for a while because for some reason I am obsessed with the idea of writing a character who believes that he wants to commit suicide, only he is too ineffectual to actually do it. Basically he has serious commitment issues about this upcoming suicide. So everyday he adds another page to The Longest Suicide Note Ever. Is that even mildly interesting to anyone besides myself?!

Any thoughts?

After reading through this, I had to resist the urge to erase the entire thing. Why? Because I think I there is something wrong with my brain, and I am opening myself up to some serious psychoanalysis. Anyone want to venture a guess as to the meaning behind me wanting to write an innefectual loser as my mouthpiece?

Geez... something is really, really wrong with my brain. Luckily I have to go to school, so I have no choice but to stop this rambling.

Somebody FIX MY BRAIN!



Hi all..

just thought I would drop another family photo for my little series. This is of course... PARIS!

He favors his father quite a bit, doesn't he?


Wednesday, August 29, 2007


Okay, in an effort to be less VAIN and SELF-CENTERED, I have decided to start posting up photos of people OTHER than myself. But in keeping with the personal nature of this blog, I will only be posting up pictures of family members.

So without any more fanfare, here's the first family member to grace my new pictorial series called... FAMILY FIRST!

This is my teenage cousin, DAWNETTE...

Isn't she absolutely darling?

Until next time...

Tuesday, August 28, 2007


It has been brought to my attention (by multiple blog readers) that I have a tendency to post only photos of MYSELF on this blog. While I do NOT deny the accuracy of this , I do take exception to the pejorative implication.

And here's my vehement response to that...


2) This blog is strictly a star vehicle.... there's no ensemble cast here. This blog aint called "Brian Booch and his Amazing Friends". It's not "Friends", it's "According to Jim".

3) It's simple mathematics! A picture is worth a thousand words, so think about how much time and energy I'm saving.

4) It's MY blog peoples. The fans come because they want their daily dose of all things Booch. And like any respectable pusher, sometimes I have to hook them up with the good shit... the real primo visuals. When I have that extra potent, high quality shit... I GOTS to lay off on the masses. If you are up on your street game, you will know that it's all about the come back. Gotta keep them coming back for that next fix... and what better way to do it than with pictures of ME.

5) I'm incredibly self-centered.

Okay... I'm done. If I have to justify my actions, then maybe you all don't deserve ANY MORE OF THIS...


Monday, August 27, 2007


Me again... like who else would it be writing on a blog called Brian Booch Blather.

I thought it might be nice to post up the first 6 pages of my Grey's Anatomy spec for any Grey's fans out there who are also Brian Booch Blather fans (yeah, I know that narrows down the field considerably).

I put together an album for the 6 pages (below), but I have no idea if it's easily readable or not. If anyone cares to read it and comment on the relative ease or difficulty... that would be AWESOME! Or at least mildly appreciated.

Anyhoo, here it is...

My Grey's Anatomy Spec... the Teaser!



Hi all...

Today I decided (in honor of my upcoming 37th birthday) to ATTEMPT to collect pictures from every year of my life. I know for a fact that there are going to be some holes... probably a lot of them, but that's okay.

I think what I'm striving, for rather than just a year by year chronology, is to capture the various looks that I have had over the years. And there were many. I'm not going to make any promises about WHEN I am going to post the Booch pictorial retrospective, but hopefully it won't be more than a week or so.

I guess I can just put up as much as I have... then try and fill in some of the holes over time.

Anyway, that's my latest hair brained scheme. Wish me luck! And of course if anyone happens across any embarassing pictures of me, they can feel free to pass them on. I promise to include even the MOST God awful ones (and there are many).

That's it for now...

Sunday, August 26, 2007


I must be on some kind of natural high, because I am blogging like an addict over here! The reason for this one though, is because I just finished the first draft of my Grey's Anatomy spec!!!

I don't know if it's worth a crap and it's running way too long, but at least it's done. And by done I mean just in that first draft, destined to be re-written a bunch of times, sense. I ended up at 68 pages, so I have to cut at least 10 and probably more.

But you wanna hear about prolific? In the past day and a half I cranked out 25 script pages-- which is a bunch, for those who aren't in the know. In fact, it wins the coveted title of most output ever BY ME in a 36 hour period. I'm not sure if its Guiness worthy, but I'll take it.

Too bad they haven't brought back that TV classic, THAT'S INCREDIBLE, because with output like that... I'd be all over that bitch!!!

Anyway, my eyes burn, my ass is sore, and my fingers are bleeding a little... so that's all for now.



Hey there...

A while ago I promised to upload some pictures from my trip to Mexico, but being the LAME S.O.B. that I am, I never got around to it.

I woke up this morning and decided to try and undo some of my wrongs... so here's an album for your enjoyment!



Saturday, August 25, 2007


I don't really have much to say, but I figured I might as well drop another blog entry before I get too sleepy.

Why? Maybe Im making up for last time. Maybe I feel guilty. Maybe I just smoked 1/6th of a very expensive cigar and am feelin' a little light headed.

Here's a picture of me... taken a approximately 11:49 PM.

Don't I look just darling? Or at the very least mysterious?

Feel free to discuss on your own. Me... I'm gonna hit the hay! Now I will end this blog with the exact words Paris and I exchange EVERY night...

Goodnight, sweet dreams, don't let the bed bugs bite, buenos noches and I love you!

And I'm out!


Hi all... just thought I'd put up the long overdo Chapter 8. I haven't read it since 2003, so hopefully it doesn't suck!

Chapter 8

The following day an inordinate number of Totally Toys employees straggle in late, each sporting their own brand of hang over. The director of human resources, Miranda Fellows, knows right away that something is amiss when Henrietta staggers in an hour and a half late. Miranda, dubbed the Tinman by her peers because of her freakish gray complexion and her apparent lack of a heart, interrogates Henrietta. She learns of the previous evening's activities, minus Henrietta's affair with Edwin, wisely omitted from the story. Miranda reprimands her, then forces her to draft and distribute a company memo forbidding employees from going to Hardballs between Mondays and Thursdays.

Henrietta and her stack of memorandums go first to the marketing department, where she is forced to leave Joan's copy on her chair, since she is still not in. Mae, one of the few punctual bar hoppers, takes her memo, reads it, and tosses it in the trash. It is not an act of defiance on her part. In her mind the memo is superfluous; fed up with bars and their inherent falseness, she has decided never to return to Hardballs. Besides, she doesn't even like sports. Henrietta apologizes for the memo and moves on to the next department.

Joan arrives minutes later, sporting a bounce in her step and beaming with satisfaction. Mae spies her arrival from behind the wall separating their cubicles, taking notice of her exuberant manner. Mae's internal alarm goes off immediately. Joan leans over and winks at Mae, and like that, a wave of doom hits her. The hairs on the back of her neck to stand up, confirming that her worst fears have been realized; Joan fucked Danny last night. Mae turns away from Joan, picks up the phone and fakes being busy in hopes that Joan will go away. But Joan doesn't go away. She waits Mae out so she can deliver her grand announcement. Five minutes go by, and Mae's resolve begins to weaken. She runs out of made-up things to say to the empty phone, so she decides upon a new tactic.

“Okay then.” Mae says to the empty line. “I'll drop those reports off at your desk right now. “ She hangs up the phone, grabs a random stack of papers.

“Good morning.” Joan's tone smacks of smugness.

“Morning.” Mae gets up with her papers and starts to walk off. Joan calls out to her, loud enough that Mae cannot keep walking and later claim to have not heard. Mae turns around. “Yes?”

“What time did you get in?” asks Joan.

“On time.”

“Did you have fun last night?”

“It was okay.”

“I'm so worn out from last night. I was gonna call in sick.” Joan walks over to Mae, forcing the conversation. “Have you spoken to Danny?”


“I bet he's not even in yet.” Joan winks.

Mae turns to leave, disgusted with the implication but trying to take the high road. It takes only a heartbeat for her feistiness gets the better of her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don't kiss and tell.” Joan winks again.

“You don't?!”


“Do you swallow and tell?!” Mae winks back at her, then storms off.

Joan, returns to her desk, in a shock caused by what she perceives as unwarranted attack. She allows herself a few minutes for self pity, before trying to figure out why Mae mistreated her so. It doesn't take long for her figure out that Mae has a crush on Danny. Although Joan is relieved that there is at least a justifiable reason for Mae's behavior, she is not sure how she feels about it.

Danny spends the morning writing in his journal. He gives an objective and accurate account of the previous evening, with the exception of his treatment of Joan. Fueled by guilt, he is unusually kind and understanding in his characterization of her failed seduction. He offers up a conclusion that she was fueled by alcohol and perhaps some ambiguity on his part, for not telling her outright that he wasn't interested. He condemns himself for not spotting her intentions sooner, so he could have diffused the situation.

Yet most of his writing that morning is about Mae. He fills page after page with complimentary adjectives, explaining to himself what it is that he really likes about her. After exhausting a thesaurus worth of synonyms for amazing, he spends a little too much time examining exactly why he is so attracted to her. It is his analytical nature that makes him do this, even though the answer is simple-chemical attraction. He fills up several pages explaining the obvious to himself, that he and Mae have extraordinary chemistry, and that there is nothing he would like more than to get to know her better. But, then he fills even more pages with all the reasons why he is not going to pursue Mae. He invents a slew of assorted excuses to masquerade the fact that he is afraid of being rejected. Yet, in all this writing, he never mentions the real reason for his cowardice; if she finds out that he is an ex-convict, and sooner or later she will, then she will surely break his heart. He has felt that sting before, and won't allow himself to go through that again.

Danny finishes his writing exercise and decides to go get some coffee. He tells himself that he is tired and in need of some caffeine, but what he really needs is a fix of Mae. Even though there can be nothing between them, there is no harm in looking. He walks by her cubicle on the way, but she is not at her desk. Her purse and jacket are there, so he is sure that she in just away momentarily. So, he takes his time going to the cafeteria, walking without purpose. Once there, he leisurely fixes his coffee and inspects the snack machine for the millionth time, as though somehow a desirable snack will appear if he looks long enough. When he has killed a reasonable amount of time, he takes his coffee and does another walk by. But she is still not back, so he is forced to leave without having laid eyes upon her.

Mae is outside the business complex, steaming about her encounter with Joan while watching her cigarette burn away to nothing. She doesn't feel like smoking, it is not a social situation, after all, but maintains the smoker's charade by wielding a lit cancer stick. She curses her former friend, even though she is without cause for such condemnation. Mae has a knack for embracing her feelings of personal injury, however unjustified. By holding on to her pain, she can better justify the inevitable lashing out at others that follows these feelings. She tells herself that Joan was most likely lying to her about Danny. She tells herself that Joan's lies were an act of malice, intended to harm her. She tells herself that Danny is too much of a nice guy, and way too smart to fall for Joan's primitive methods.

The unsmoked cigarette extinguishes itself at the base of the filter. Mae takes this as a sign that it is time to go back inside. She decides to return to her desk by way of the first floor, a route that is the long way back and passes by the computer room. She stops by the computer room, peeking her head into the room in search of Danny. She is disappointed to find him missing from the room. She will have to take another trip down here later, so she can look into his eyes and see for herself that Joan is a liar.

The rest of her morning is spent quietly catching up on work. Mae follows through on several old tasks that were put aside out of sheer laziness. She redirects her anger with Joan, using it as fuel to have the most productive morning since her first week on the job. Joan and Mae avoid each another for the rest of the day. Sometime after lunch, Mae's phone rings. It is Danny, calling her under the guise of checking to see how her computer is doing.

“Hi, Danny!” Mae says. “How are thing down there?”

“Not too bad. A little boring. I was wondering, is your computer working okay?”

“Like a dream. Thanks again for fixing it.”


“And thanks for driving last night. I had a good time.”

“Me too.” There are a million things Danny would like to say to her, but somehow with opportunity knocking, he is at a loss for words. After a long silence, in which Mae begins to wonder why he even called, Danny ends the conversation. “Well, I gotta run. It was nice talking to you.”

“You too. Catch you later.”

In spite of its brevity and lack of substance, the conversation is enough to carry them through the rest of the afternoon. Danny sits at the workbench for most of the day, feeling stupid for calling her and having nothing to say, but grateful to have at least heard her voice. He decides that he detected genuine joy in her tone, another sign that she likes him. It makes him feel good to be liked, especially since he doesn't really have any friends. It's not that he is an antisocial person, he is just very cautious about adopting friendships, and the right situation for one has not presented itself in the two years he has lived in California. He starts to think that perhaps he can become a friend with Mae. He enjoys her company, and even if he is too chicken shit to pursue her romantically, there is no harm developing a platonic relationship.

Mae stays busy with work for the remainder of her day. Danny pops into her head on a few occasions, but for the most part she is preoccupied with the business at hand. She doesn't even think much about Joan or anyone else for that matter. She stays in a working “zone” that lasts until it is time to leave.

She is out the door and in her car at exactly one minute past quitting time. She races home to grab a quick bite to eat and take a shower before her Wednesday night yoga class. She looks forward to the time spent stretching and meditating, wanting to release all of the pent up negative energy she has collected in the last 24 hours. She also feels like she needs a break from obsessing about Danny, the object of her desire that she has forbidden herself from having. All of the waffling back and forth has drained her mentally to the point were she needs the refuge yoga provides.

Edwin Rolle drops by Joan's desk on the way out of the office. He pretends that he is just stopping by to say hello, but his real mission is to begin spreading his latest gossip. Figuring that she is the candidate most likely (after himself) to champion a rumor, he makes sure to casually mention his sexual encounter with Henrietta. But Joan doesn't respond with her normal zest for company dirt. Her disinterested harrumph is enough for him to end the encounter quickly, and seek another agent for his rumor-mongering. He hunts down and faux-confides in Oliver Monpierre, the customer service manager and a capable gossiper in his own right. Edwin's news is well received by Oliver, who vows not to tell a soul; a sure sign that it will make it's way to every single pair of ears that pulls a Totally Toys check.


Sorry Folks,

Once again I have to come back to my blog, hat in hand, asking for forgiveness. I can go on and on about how LAME I am (BTW-- i think lame has replaced LOVELY as my most frequently used word on the blog), but instead I will assume that I am fogiven and will move on.

Moving on. Sort of...

I'm busy as usual... doing the same assortment of coloring and writing. SHOCKER-- I'm trying to catch up, which of course never actually happens since more stuff always comes up. SO maybe I'll stop bothering to mention that in future blogs. It's always the same crap.

I'm sitting here at Starbucks, taking a break from my GREY'S ANATOMY spec script that I NEED to finish by Monday. It's going a little (and by a little I mean A LOT) slowly because, frankly.... I'm sick of Grey's Anatomy, and here's why: The first class on doing the OUTLINE was 12 weeks long, and since I finished it pretty much by week 5, I was left idling for the remaining 7 weeks. I wanted to start writing, but I figured it wouldn't be a good idea since I knew I was going to take the second class (WRITING THE SPEC). I figured with a new teacher I would have different input, so why waste my time writing it only to have to do some possibly major rewriting. So I waited until the new class (which was like 3 weeks later because I went missed the first 2 classes while on vacation). So all told, I waited about two months between the time I wrote the outline and started writing the script. Now here I am in week 8 of 10 and I have no juice left for my spec. But I need to finish it otherwise I would have wasted the last 3 months.

Then I can move on to my spec of THE CLOSER, which I am itching to do.

ALSO... another reason why my Grey's script is not going smoothly... they KICKED ISIAH WASHINGTON (Burke) off the show, so I had to remove him from my script. I should have redone my outline and reworked the storyline he was in, but I was so friggin tired of the outlining process that I decided to rewrite it on the fly. DAMN Isiah Washington and his damned homophobia!

On the positive side, I've been going to the gym regularly for a month now. I hooked up with some old friends who work out at my gym, and joined in on their workout. It's pretty awesome, actually. We go Mon-Fri from 8am-10am and work out like a bunch of Lou Ferrignos (Gooey Louey to all you Pumping Iron fans). I've lost 10 pounds of flab, but as of yet I am no Incredible Hulk. But maybe next month, with a little hard work and a lot of anabolic steroids I could be...

Anybody know where I can get some inexpensive steroids? Or maybe if someone has Barry Bond's cell phone number, I can ask him direct. Maybe he's got an extra tube of THE CLEAR lying around.

Oh... let me post a picture of the NEW and slightly improved Booch!

Not too shabby, eh? And yes Steve... I bet I think this song is about me!

Okay then... I gotta get back to work on my stupid spec.

More later!

Saturday, August 04, 2007


Hi all...

Its midnight and I didn't blog like I was supposed to. Man, I am one seriously uhreliable blogger... I wouldnt be surprised if I lost the 10 loyal blog readers that I had. And by ten I mean those family members polite enough to check out my blog from time to time.

I was gonna post some photos from my Mexico trip... but they are on my laptop and I'm blogging from my desktop. So the fine visuals will have to wait. It's just as well because I am tired and I don't really have much to say. Perhaps I will recap my day in a poem called....


I woke up early and went to the gym
I did some coloring revisions for my editor
and emailed them to him

Paris returned from his aunt's place
I was happy to see him
so I punched him in the face (okay, I didn't... but I couldn't think of anything that rhymes with place)

I went to my pal Chaz's birthday bash
I had a couple drinks
but I did not crash (I wasn't drunk, people!)

Okay... that was horrible (and partially untrue)! SO I will just stop while I am incredibly behind.

I promise to write more interesting and thoughtful stuff tomorrow... when I'm not quite as tired.

good night!

Thursday, August 02, 2007

I'm BACK... I'm TIRED...

..and I've got a lot of emails to catch up on. But Xochil and I are safe and sound, and thankful that my brother picked us up at the airport.

I'll check back in tomorrow... along with more promises of blogging and pictures!

good night!

Sunday, July 29, 2007


Hi all...

I'm sitting here at LAX, waiting for my ON TIME Delta flight. So I thought I would hook you all up with a lovely real time picture of myself. It's in snazzy sepia tone because... well, because I'm feelin sepia this morning.

Feel free to download this photo and share it with your friends. Heck, make a T-shirt out of it!

Click the photo if you can't get enough of this pic and you really need to see it 2X larger.



Hello all my beautiful people...

As luck would have it, I am taking my 5th trip in the last 2 months... this time a place in Mexico called Tepic. Now for those Mexican geography enthusiasts this will be old news, but Tepic is as city in the state of Nayarit. And where is Nayarit? As far as I know its a couple hours from Puerto Vallarta... which I'm pretty sure is in the central part of the country.

You will all be happy to know that I am NOT taking American Airlines. This time it's Delta, baby, so I think I have a much better shot at getting some on time flights! Sorry dad, but American has not been kind to me lately. My flight is at 7:15 AM, so we have to mosey on out of here by 4:40 AM. I managed to sleep from 2:15 to 3:40, so I am well rested as you can imagine.

For those of you wondering, this is a scouting trip I am taking with Xochil. We are scouting for property in Mexico, which I know very little about... so don't ask for details. When I get back I should have a bunch more information, which I will gladly share.

The only downside of this trip is that we are going to miss Paris... AND I am going to be breaking my two week routine of going to the gym. Hopefully I won't lose the ridiculous amounts of muscle mass I have gained in the last 14 days. he he...

Anyway, it's time to go... WISH US LUCK!!!!


Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Chapter 7

Hi all..

Just thought I'd offer up the next chapter of Sex Offenders... Enjoy!

Chapter 7

Mae gets home and heads straight for the bath. She takes a long, hot shower and tries not to think about how Danny is faring. For a while she occupies her mind with memories of relationships past, but uncharacteristically finds them old and stale. So, she goes over her finances instead. But, without the benefit of a waterproof checkbook, there is only so much book balancing that she can do. She then tries planning her next vacation, but without someone to go with, she sure as hell isn't going to Hawaii with Joan anymore, the idea of a vacation just makes her feel alone. She even compiles a Christmas card list, making sure to cross Joan off of it, even though it is four months away.

Yet after all this mind wandering, her thoughts returns to the subject of Danny. This time she gives in, replaying the evening in her head from beginning to end. She runs through it four times, editing Edwin and Joan out a little more each time. By the time her shower runs out of hot water, Mae has a complete revisionist version of the evening with no trace of Edwin or Joan. She goes to bed with Danny still on her mind, and in the half hour it takes to fall asleep, not once does she think about her long-standing rule against dating coworkers.

During the night, Danny has a dream about Mae. In the dream he is also sleeping on the couch, although the apartment is different for no particular reason. Mae enters from outside, using her own key to get in. Wearing only underpants, she slinks over and starts kissing him. She pulls up his blanket, revealing his naked body. She climbs on top of him, pulling the blanket over them, her flesh pressed against his. He wakes up and kisses her back, their passion escalating into fondling. He rips her underpants off with unnatural strength, allowing their naughty parts to touch. She reaches down and begins to fondle his genitals. The heat of their foreplay is so realistic that he begins to wonder if he is even dreaming at all.

The overwhelming sensation caused by her dream manipulation of his penis causes him to actually wake him up. But instead of snapping out of the wet dream and finding himself alone, he finds it is really happening, except that it is Joan, not Mae, on top of him. He feels the weight of her naked body against his. He feels the wetness of her tongue on his neck. His hands instinctively grope handfuls of her flesh. Slowly his dormant cognitive abilities return to him and he is able to step outside himself to see what is going on. He realizes that he is not fooling around with Mae, and that it is Joan who is orally engaging his privates.

Danny gently but firmly pushes her face away from his nether region.

“No. Stop.” He manages to say.

“Are you gonna cum? Already?”


“It's okay, go ahead and cum.” She tries to continue her work, but he squirms free. He pulls himself out from under her and grabs the blanket to cover himself.

“What's wrong?” Joan is confused and hurt by his repulsion. “Didn't you like it?”

Danny, not sure how to respond, says nothing. He grabs his clothes and starts to get dressed. Joan is absolutely flabbergasted by his actions.

“I don't understand.” She says.

“It's not you, it's me.” Danny tries to explain. “I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea about things.”

Danny looks up and sees the hurt in her face. Joan, in the midst of the most embarrassing experience of her life, feels the overwhelming need to cry. Instead, she bites her lip, refusing to make matters worse.

“I should go.” Joan gets up and goes back into the bedroom to get dressed. Rather than feel violated, Danny starts to feel guilty for hurting her feelings. He feels awful, as though he is the one who has wronged her. He even tries to justify her actions in some way, considering the possibility that he may have inadvertently led her on. He concedes that it is possible that she misconstrued his intentions, when he allowed her passage into his apartment. He decides to apologize for whatever he may have done.

She returns to the living room, fully clothed, and Danny offers to drive her home. She declines at first, but Danny's persistence gets her to agree to at least let him take her back to Hardballs to get her car. His last words are a heartfelt apology for hurting her feelings.

Not a single word passes between them the rest of the night. He drops her off at her car and returns home. Exhausted and slightly disturbed, he wraps himself up in an old blanket and reflects on the bizarre evening. He doesn't sleep for the rest of the night, overcome with the guilt because somehow, however irrational, he feels like he has been unfaithful to Mae.
Edwin Rolle wakes up with a hangover. The splitting pain, a hundred proof hatchet lodged in his brain, is so strong that he doesn't notice the warm naked body sleeping beside him. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, checks the time on his bedside clock radio. Even though he is already a half hour late for work, he is slow to rise, because he doesn't burden himself with such trivial matters as getting to work on time. He stretches out his arms, then his legs, accidentally brushing against the callused feet that are attached to the mystery guest he was previously not aware of. His first thought is that whoever this person is, she is in dire need of a loufah. It then occurs to him that he has no recollection of what happened last night, and doesn't know the identity of the owner of those poorly maintained feet. Before he checks to see who it is, he confidently bets himself that it is Mae. After all, he is Edwin Rolle.

One glance at the sizable lump beneath the covers, and he knows that he is dead wrong. Edwin is by no means a physicist, but even he can tell that the mass underneath his blanket is too large to be Mae. He leans over and is surprised to see Henrietta Budge sleeping peacefully beside him.

While he is a little disappointed that his conquest of Mae failed, at least he saw some action, so there is nothing for him to be ashamed of. He is a big believer in the philosophy that there is no such thing as bad press, so it doesn't bother him that he slept with a less attractive woman who could generously be described as Ruebenesque. Sexual intercourse is one of the few instances where he shows absolutely no bias. Of course he prefers super models to super-sizers, but he is not one to turn away either when it comes right down to it. He considers it altruistic to bestow his lovemaking gifts on those less fortunate, who might otherwise never get to experience such ecstasy. So, even though he has not yet docked his ship in Mae's port, he declares the previous evening a success, even if he can't remember it.

Monday, July 23, 2007


Hi all

I'm sorry I haven't been blogging lately... I've been REALLY busy with a lot of things that aren't blogworthy.

I'm trying to catch up on my work and my writing and honestly... I haven't been doing a good job. So I apologize to those who have been patiently waiting for my inane ramblings. I still plan to post up some photos of my DR trip, but I'm not going to commit to a time since I blew the last few blog commitment I made (which makes me an unreliablogger).

I guess I can post a couple right now as an offer of good will...


Sunday, July 08, 2007


Hi all...

For all those interested,my script "Lowlifes" failed to make the Top 10 in the Writers on the Storm screenwriting contest.

Those bastards! I think there was some obvious racism at play. :)


Saturday, July 07, 2007


Hi all... I'm finally back home from the DR and in front of my computer where I can freely (actually it's 25 bucks a month) partake of the world wide web. I did a little remote blogging while I was there, so I will post that first. Then later on today I will finish off the final day of my trip... or what I like to call the LONG ROAD BACK!

Take a trip back in time with me as we rejoin our heroes at Miami International Airport where the Pasillas family is in danger of NOT making the flight to Punta Cana....

Okay, I'll save you the suspense (since this was over a week ago)... You’ll be happy to know that Luis and his family DID get on the flight, so we all made it safely to Punta Cana. Unfortunately, our luggage did not. Those bastards at MIA didn’t load any of our luggage onto the plane. That really sucked because there were NO more flights to Punta Cana until the next morning. So day one pretty much ended like this…

It took us 17.5 hours to get to Punta Cana from Los Angeles. That’s 17.5 hours of no sleep (for me) and the SAME CLOTHES. And when we got to the resort we checked out their clothing shop and they wanted 30 bucks for a T-shirt, 60 bucks for men’s swimming trunks, and 80 bucks for a bikini. So needless to say we wore the same clothes for the entire day and I was forced to spend 7 bucks for toothpaste and ONE toothbrush.

Do you wish you were here yet?

Our room turned out to be decent and we have the luxury of 3 beds (one for Paris, one for Pilar and one for Xochil and I). Luis on the other hand ended up with ONE BED for FOUR PEOPLE. And to think, he is a member of the club and is sporting the VIP wristband.

All things considered it was a nice restful day filled with food, sun, alcoholic beverages, and cigars… and I mean a lot of cigars.

The day started with a shower and back into the same clothes (yuck) for the third consecutive day (Wed evening, Thursday travel day, and Friday). There was of course the promise that our bags would be landing in Punta Cana at 11:45 AM and be delivered right to us.

Of course that promise was broken.

First of all, the 8:55 AM flight out of MIA did not leave Miami until 11AM… which got the plane into Punta Cana by 1:30PM. Of course our bags weren’t directly delivered to our hotel. Even after many phone calls and lousy customer service interventions (actually American Airlines customer service could use an intervention), our bags were still M.I.A. The pervading rumor/lie was that they were on some mysterious BUS that was “on its way”. That turned into more unfulfilled promises of our bags getting to the hotel no later than 3pm, 4pm, 5pm… and finally 6pm.

None of that happened.

But let me back up a little and explain the rest of the day. Xochil and I decided to go buy some friggin clothes, so we took the advice of a porter and took a hotel bus to the “shopping center”. I bought an overpriced but undersized T-Shirt and Xochil managed to find a tank top and a sarong type wrap around thing that she wore as a dress. On the way back we decided to get dropped off just outside the hotel grounds, where there was one of those blocks with a bunch of hole in the wall type boutiques/shops. We found clothes much cheaper there, but had spent most of the money I brought along on the bus trip. I had decided to take only 100 bucks and leave the rest of my money and my wallet in my room, so that if were led astray and got jacked, I wouldn’t be losing all my shit.

At this little mom and pop shopping area, we were greeted by an ambitious but friendly shop owner named “Mike”. He gave Xochil and I free good luck necklaces (which hasn’t delivered on that promise yet) and proceeded to sell us coffee beans and cigars.

Xochil and I walked back the 7 minutes to our hotel room and changed into these lovely new clothes…. After our umpteenth showers of course! Xochil felt better, but I was in the same underpants and shorts and starting to feel like a contestant on SURVIVOR… or maybe more like an extra on LOST. Anyway, after having to put on the same underpants for the umpteenth time (after the umpteenth shower) I vowed to retire these draws for good. No washing machine and back onto the front lines… these bad boys were going to get a military funeral and perhaps a memorial of some sort. They served their time well and never complained. God bless those drawers!

Anyway, we all drank a lot and I smoked at least 5 cigars on day two… then we went back to the business of trying to get our luggage. A very helpful employee of the resort was able to get into contact with someone who personally watched them load the luggage into a van… and finally at 6:30PM our luggage was on the way. So I waited outside the hotel until 7:30 PM when the bags finally arrived.

I have never been so happy to get my own stuff. And I’d also like to mention that my entire suitcase was full of new clothes, purchased especially for the trip.

This was the first of five LOVELY vacation days spent doing the same sorts of Caribbean vacation type things: eating, sunning, swimming, reading, writing, drinking, and smoking cigars. The only thing of note that happened to me was that one of the employees of the resort offered to sell me pot, cocaine or any other kind of narcotic that I might have wanted. Too bad for him that I gave up smack for lent.

More eating, sunning, swimming, reading, writing, drinking, and smoking cigars…

Still more eating, sunning, swimming, reading, writing, drinking, and smoking cigars…

Do you see a pattern yet? Lots more resorty Caribbean vacation stuff that is fun to do but not so much fun to blog about.

The same as the other days but with red, white and blue balloons commemorating 231 years of states that are united (not in the Dominican Republic, in America) and free from the clutches of the evil Empire (British, not Star Wars).

Okay... that takes us to July 5th and our LONG TRIP HOME... I'll be back later with tales and photos to astonish...


Thursday, June 28, 2007


I'm in Miami International Airport, sitting on the floor waiting for my flight to Punta Cana, when I should already be there. Our 11:30 flight out of LAX didn't leave until 2:30 AM which got us into MIA (thats the airport code for Miami airport-- which is funny because I think we all feel M.I.A. right about now) at 10:15 AM. Unfortunately our connecting flight was at 8:55 AM so we missed that bad boy.

After getting off the plane we mosied on to our new gate to get our new boarding passes for the 1:05 flight. The flight attendant at our gate was a serious asshole, and should probably reconsider his career choice (customer service WAS NOT his forte). He was dealing with a flight to Panama CIty in which 12 passengers with boarding passes were M.I.A. (and I don't mean Miami International Airport). Still, there was no reason to be a prick to us... especially considering all this mess was not our fault. We got to LAX at 8:30 in PLENTY of time to make our flight. Now, almost 12 hours and no sleep later... we were forced to listen to the rudeness of a friggin' ticket agent.

Rather than wait for asshole to corrale the missing Panama City passengers, I elected to go one gate down and speak with a nicer ticket agent. Strangely, she knew which "rude ticket agent" I was referring to when I mentioned him. But she made up for it by getting our boarding passes-- although the first time around she gave me a ticket for someone named SAYDE BRUCELIA instead of Paris. So we got our tickets and that's the end of the story, right? Wrong! because Xochil's sister's family (Luis, Reyna, Mimi, and Sabina) were NOT confirmed on the flight and are currently on stand-by for a flight that has been oversold by 12.

So, if they don't get on the flight they will have to stay overnight in Miami at a hotel (on American Airlines' dime) and get on the flight the following morning. Needless to say Luis is not happy about that. I feel bad for my good fortune, but maybe this is one of those moments where I seem like the lucky one until my flight goes down over the Atlantic. Then Luis and company can thank their lucky stars that they didnt make the flight.

It's boarding time, so I gotta run... WISH ME LUCK and... pray we don't pull an Oceanic Flight 815.


Wednesday, June 27, 2007


It's 11:40 and I'm still waiting...

While waiting I had a drink with Luis (Xochil's sister's husband) at the airport bar. We were bored stiff, so he offered to buy me a drink. At the bar he elected to get a shot of Johnny Walker, so I said "sure" and ordered the same (on the rocks). The bartender said... "Double shot for three dollars more?", so we agreed. At that point Luis must have regretted offering to buy me a drink because the tab for two double shots... TWENTY THREE DOLLARS. And no, they didn't give us the bottle.

So we stood around and TRIED to drink these double Johnnies on the rocks. Sadly we were not made of sterner stuff because THAT STUFF WAS NASTY. After several cringe filled sips, Luis suggested we get some coke put into our drinks. We did just that, and because of the lovely cola splash we were both able to finish our $11.50 drinks.

Now I'm slightly buzzed (I haven't eaten since 4pm) and STILL waiting for the esteemed peeps at American Airlines to start boarding our LATE ASS FLIGHT!

Again, pray that we dont crash.



Hi all,

I'm sitting here at Los Angeles International Airport (LAX for those in the know) waiting for my flight. Sadly, It has been delayed an hour and a half and is not set to take off until 12:55 AM PST. Right now its only 10:09 so that means I have WAAAAAAAAAAY too much time on my hands. Luckily they have a T-mobile hotspot that I am taking full advantage of (shout out to David).

I don't really have much to say... other than DAMNED AMERICAN AIRLINES!!! This is my 8th flight in the last 45 days and ONLY the 3 American flights were delayed. SO here is the score... Alaska Airlines, Delta Airlines, Horizon Air = ON TIME.... AMERICAN AIRLINES = late, late and LATE! What kind of crap is that?! Alaska Air is my new favorite... they are on time AND they have more leg room than American. American Airlines is booty.

Okay, that's all I have to say right now... hopefully I will be able to get a couple more blogs in later.

Pray my plane doesn't crash to spite me.



Hi all... just thought I'd give you all the next chapter before I left. I dint get a chance to read it over, so I am sorry if it sucks.


“What are you guys drinking over here?!” Edwin says, noticing the pair of cola beverages on the bar. “You guys are gonna have a drink with me, right?”

“No thank you.” Danny and Mae say in sync.

“C'mon, you're off the clock.”

“We can't. Were recovering alcoholics.” Dannys says.

“Agoraphobic alcoholics.” Mae corrects him.

The bad inside joke is lost on Edwin. “That's cool. I won't mess with your wagons or anything.” Edwin flags down the bartender and orders himself a light beer and a round of Jose Cuervo shots for his posse. They down the tequila and in the span of five minutes down several more, as Mae and Danny quietly observe. The group, their first two sheets already to the wind, break of into four smaller sub-groups for some obligatory company bashing.

And with three shots of liquid courage in his system, Edwin finally feels loose enough to begin his conquest of Mae. He pulls up a stool, wedging himself between Mae and Danny, and joins their non-conversation. Mae acknowledges him with a nod of the head and a half-smile, but says nothing. Edwin refuses to look directly at Danny, so there is no exchange between them. Instead, Edwin tries to engage Mae with embellished tales of his all time greatest drunken stupors. Yet he finds her a less than captivated audience. Her intolerance of him is compounded further by his wandering eyes, which seem to be holding their own separate conversation with Mae's breasts. She yawns and orders another round of cokes for Danny and herself, as Edwin concludes his monologue. She doesn't see Joan walk into the now well packed bar. Instead, she makes eye contact with Danny who is already trying to accomplish the same thing. An unspoken understanding is established between them. As if achieved via some psychic transmission, each expresses to the other, the desire to leave the bar together so they may be allowed a some privacy. The vibe is more than sexual, although there is definitely a lust factor involved. The desire for privacy is primarily to satisfy their individual needs to learn more about each other. They are both drawn to one another, feeling an inevitability about their relationship. Unfortunately, their sense of decorum, and fear of emotional ramifications, prohibits them from leaving. Instead they weather the storm that is Edwin, patiently enduring the hurricane winds blowing out of his mouth.

Joan is fashionably late to everything, including events that don't warrant such protocol. It is no surprise then, that she arrives thirty minutes into this little get together. Her arrival is first noticed by Henrietta Budge, who, in the throes of some serious intoxication, stumbles over to greet her. Joan tries to look for Danny, but is dragged into Henrietta's group before finding him. Henrietta forces her to do two rounds of shots before Joan breaks away to find Danny. Feigning a need to urinate, she escapes her new best friend's clutches and hunts down Danny. She is surprised and a little hurt to see Mae there, not because she senses Mae's attraction to him (she doesn't), but because Mae had flat out refused to go with her. For the first time since sixth grade, Joan feels slighted by someone she calls a friend. It is an alien feeling that she finds unacceptable, so she buries it down deep inside, placing it in an unmarked grave beside those middle school memories of betrayal that still haunt her. She forces her bubbly nature to come to the surface, giving out a round of hugs. She takes a seat next to Danny and unfurls her social butterfly wings.

Immediately, the dynamic of the group changes, as Joan forces her will upon the group like the oratory shaman that she is, and resurrects the floundering conversation. Even Mae is compelled to contribute to the conversation, in spite of the two-pronged discomfort caused by Edwin's unsavory intentions, and her desire to leave with Danny. Joan draws them in with a light hearted conversation that is innocuous and free of the hidden agenda beneath Edwin's prattling. She knows that stealth and guile are required when stalking prey, and is sober enough to act according.

“You guys may think I'm stupid.” Joan says. “But I used to drive by this place, and think it was a gay bar.”

“Why?” asks Edwin.

“The name. Hardballs. It sounds gay.” Danny chimes in. “I thought the same exact thing.”

“Me too.” Says Mae. All but Edwin, still slow on the uptake, are amused.

“If I had my own gay sports bar, I'd call it 'The Catcher's Mitt'.” Joan says.

“That's great. If I had one, I'd call it 'The End Zone'.” Says Danny.

“What about 'Switch Hitters'?” Mae adds.” Of course bisexuals would be welcome, too.”

Edwin, finally catching on, starts laughing along with the rest of the group. “Wait. I got one. How about 'Homo Runs'?” Edwin says.

“Homo runs?” says Mae.

It takes a few seconds for the joke to register with the others, but the effect is quite powerful. Unfortunately, it evokes a response that is exactly the opposite of its intended purpose; it kills the moment. One by one the grinning faces are changed into wrinkled brows and blank stares. Edwin stops laughing when he realizes that he is the only one still doing so. It occurs to him (correctly) that he may have stepped over the boundaries of good taste.

“Okay, I got a better one.” Beads of nervous sweat appear on Edwin's forehead. “How about 'Cock Fighters'?”

“I don't get it?” Joan says.

“Neither do I.” says Danny. “Where's the gay reference?”

“Is cockfighting even a sport?” adds Joan.

Edwin looks to Mae for support, but she just shakes her head. Seeking to exercise damage control, he blurts out a flimsy defense for his statement without thinking it through.

“You know, fags like cock, and fighting is a sport.” He is met with the same blank stares. Edwin's sweat glands kick into overdrive. “It is a sport. And they do like cock. I mean, I hear they like cock. I'm not gay, but I have a gay friend, and he says he loves it. He really loves it. I swear. That's what he says.”

No one responds to his rambling. Instead they stare at him incredulously, like rubberneckers at the scene of an accident, horrified by the carnage but unable to keep themselves from looking.

“You know. I'm just saying…” Edwin offers. “I'm just saying what he said.”

“Of course they like cock. Who doesn't?” Danny says, enlivening the mood.

Edwin seizes the opportunity to change the subject, ordering a round of tequilas for the group. The waitress brings back four double shots of Jose Cuervo 1800.

“C'mon guys, bottoms up.” He lifts the shot glass in the air, but only Joan responds in kind.

“On the wagon, remember?” Danny gestures to Mae and himself.

“I respect that.” Says Edwin. He toasts Joan, and with a clink of shot glasses they inhale them. They then take Mae and Danny's unclaimed shots and drink those too. Edwin, his blood-alcohol level well above the legal limit, starts to feel pretty fucking intoxicated.

The four shots give Joan a nice buzz, and produce an eagerness to face the challenge seated beside her. So she spends the next ten minutes feeling Danny out, like a heavyweight contender, flicking quick jabs of innuendo, trying to find a rhythm. Danny unknowingly plays the role of Rocky Balboa in this contest. Like Rocky he is an easy target for her to hit, but to her dismay, his Italian Stallion like constitution enables him to absorb blow after blow with virtually no effect. Danny does not pick up on her intentions even after a barrage of not so thinly veiled innuendoes. He recognizes her overuse of sexual metaphors and her touchy-feely hands, used in subtle but suggestive ways, but fails to make the connection that these signs are intended for him. He automatically attributes it to her outgoing personality rather than consider it an invitation meant for him. For an intelligent man, Danny has a blind-spot when it comes to the opposite sex. He misreads their feelings with a yeoman's regularity, and is all together illiterate when it comes to reading the signs of seduction. But, Joan has a champion's fortitude, and is willing to go the distance if she believes victory is within her grasp. Little does she know that it isn't. She has no chance, since Mae has already put him on the canvas for good.

Edwin, also clueless to his doom, takes a less tactful approach. He tries to be suave and irresistible, breaking into a British super spy routine that took him years to perfect and has yielded a high degree of success in similar situations. But it was never designed for use against women with even the suggestion of self worth, so it has no effect on Mae. In fact, the only indication she gives that she is even listening to his slurred, third rate cockney accent, are the drawn-out yawns that she makes no effort to conceal. Failure of his James Bond schtick gives way to basic gawking as Edwin's alternative tactic. Although, in the entire history of man's mating practices there is no known record of this device ever working, Edwin ogles at Mae as though she were a burlesque dancer flaunting her wares. He does so until she is so uncomfortable that she gets up to go to the bathroom. He trails behind, and waits for her by the restroom door. Danny watches from the corner of his eye, just in case he is forced to intervene on her behalf. Edwin tries to shake of the intoxication so he can muster up one last assault on Fort Mae. She comes out of the restroom and he lays siege.

“Can I tell you something?” Edwin doesn't wait for a reply. “I hope this doesn't sound like a line, but I gotta say, your farts smell amazing.”

Mae decides that there is no acceptable human response to such as statement, so she says nothing.

“I'm serious. I don't care if you had ten cans of pork and beans, I'd still go down on you.”

“I'm going home now.” Mae side steps him and walks off.

Mae returns to her stool to find Joan giving Danny a hand massage as she asks him about computer networking. Danny politely tries to answer in layman's terms, even though he has little interest in the subject. Joan incorrectly assumes that because he is “tech-guy” that he loves talking about computers. Danny finds himself in a position similar to the one Mae spoke of earlier. He wonders if, in the same situation, Mae would disdain Joan's disingenuous interest in what she assumes is a passion of his. This sparks a revelation that feels like an epiphany; Joan is trying to seduce him. Her hidden agenda now clear to him, he takes back his hand in hope of stopping the strange feelings of infidelity burgeoning within.

Mae sees this gesture as an attempt to cover up Danny and Joan's budding love connection. She considers this a slight against her perpetrated by Joan upon an unsuspecting Danny. Mae assumes that Joan's sexual prowess is so powerful that Danny can't help but be sucked into her web of sin. She doesn't notice the look in his eyes that tells her otherwise. Nor does she pick up on his body language, when he turns to face her, giving Joan his back.

“You're back.” Danny says.

“It's getting late.” Mae grabs her purse. “I'll catch you guys tomorrow.”

“I'll take you to your car.” Danny gets up to leave with her, but she doesn't wait. He waves goodbye to Joan, and leaves her to feel jilted by herself. Danny catches up to Mae before she reaches the exit.


“Yeah?” She keeps on walking.

“Hold on a second. I'm you're ride, remember?”

“That's okay, I'll grab a cab. You can stay.”

“I don't want to.” Danny gets her to stop and turn around. “Let me drive you back to your car. Okay?”
She decides that there is no reason to be upset with Danny. All he has ever done is act like a considerate gentleman around her. If anything, her ire should be directed at that conniving tramp she once considered a good friend. With a nod, Mae leads him to the car. As he opens the door for Mae, Joan emerges from the bar.

“Wait up!” Joan calls out. “Can you guys give me a lift?” Joan jogs over to them, stumbling once.

“Where's your car?” Mae asks.

“Over there. But I probably shouldn't drive. Man, if I get another D.U.I, I'm so freaking screwed.” Joan looks to Danny for sympathy, appealing to his big heart with her best Oliver Twist impersonation. Danny, in turn, looks to Mae for guidance. Mae's first instinct is to say no, on the grounds that Joan is faking it so she can horn in on the action. But Mae allows herself a moment to consider how guilty she would feel if she allowed Joan to wreck or get arrested because of her own jealousy.
“Do you mind?” Mae asks Danny.

“Not at all. Better safe than sorry.”

“Great. I owe you one.” Joan winks at Danny in another of her endless stream of innuendoes.

They pile into his car and head out. Danny assumes that he should drop Joan off first since she is the interloper, but she has other ideas. In fact, her lobby to be dropped off last is so strong (and actually makes more sense since she lives closer to Danny's house), that he is forced to relent. Mae, tired and eager to be rid of Joan by any means, offers no objection. So, Danny drives Mae back to the office, in elevator like silence. Danny quietly wonders if Mae understands that he only has eyes for her. Mae secretly hopes that Danny will be able to withstand Joan's pornographic onslaught. Joan concocts a plan to deceive her way into Danny's apartment.

They arrive at the office, exchanging good nights before Mae gets out of the car. Danny watches her get into her own car, concluding their evening in a most anticlimactic fashion. They wave goodnight to one another behind the glass of their windows, a moment that feels like the end of a prison visit. Danny, in the role of inmate, puts his hand up to the glass and watches Mae drive out of sight. Joan, playing the part of prison guard, cajoles him out of the moment with a tap of his knee that turns into a suggestive squeezing of his thigh.

Danny tries to take Joan home, but she turns her drunken routine up a notch by pretending to get them lost. They drive around for thirty minutes until Joan comes to the telegraphed conclusion that she is so smashed that she can't remember where she lives. Not knowing what else to do, Danny reluctantly offers to let her crash at his place. She pseudo apologizes for the inconvenience, and accepts the invitation. The go back to his apartment, and he helps her into his bedroom. Danny takes out a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt for her to sleep in and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. He fishes out an old blanket, his lone memento from his childhood, and an extra pillow from his linen closet, and turns his couch into a makeshift bed. He lays down, turns off the light and allows his mind to drift back to Mae. Minutes later, Joan comes out of the bedroom wearing only the T-shirt he gave her. She turns the light on so he can get a good look at her legs in all their splendor.

“Are you going to sleep out here?” Asks Joan.

“Yeah. You take the room.”

“I don't mind sharing the bed. It would be a shame to make you sleep on the couch when there's more than enough room in here.”

“That's okay, I sleep out here all the time. It's very comfortable.”

“Okay then, goodnight.” Joan goes back into the bedroom and closes the door. Danny turns the light off again, and goes to sleep with visions of Mae dancing in is head.


I know I have been remiss in my blogging as of late, but I have been trying to get as much done as I can before I take off this evening. Where to? I'm glad you asked... Xochil, Paris and I are off to the Occidental Resort in Punta Cana for 9 days of fun and sun. And for those of you who don't know where in the heck Punta Cana is (I didn't), its in the mighty Dominican Republic.

I also need to apologize for not finishing my Spokane tales. But I refer to my previous excuse for those who need reasons. In order to make ammends, I'll try to summarize the rest of the trip for those I left hanging...

Day two pretty much consisted of drinking, eating, smoking cigars and MUCH KARAOKE. My mixed martial arts fighting cousin Mikey and his family showed up and took part in the festivities. Sadly my Spokane photos are not on this computer so I will be unable (actually unwilling to go through the trouble of transfering them) to give you photos. What I may do instead is put together a little album of the trip, complete with witty little captions. You know what... that's how I'm going to recap the rest of the trip... with a photo album. Unfortunately for those of you who are just clamoring for more Spokanie goodness, you are going to have to wait until I get back from the Caribbean. And then maybe it will have been so long that no one might give a flying F anymore. Either way I win.

You like how I got out of that? I do. But what can I say, its been two weeks and all the interesting and funny anecdotes are now wiped from my STM (short-term memory). Sorry, but its not easy being this damned interesting all the time. The burden of amusement weighs on me, and it a heavily load... of crap that I am talking. So I will stop before I sounder any stupider (which is amusing to me because "stupider" is not a word).

Okay, moving on...

Actually, I should rephrase that... I'm not moving on, I'm signing off. Why? Because this has been a horrible blog entry. Honestly, I just didn't "feel it" this time around. My blogatory mojo is not working today so I might as well just stop... right... now--

Saturday, June 23, 2007


Steve said I use the word "lovely" an awful lot on this blog, so I thought I would mention it and see if anyone has been keeping track of how many times I've used the word.

I'm too lazy to count, but I thought it would be an absolutely lovely idea to mention.



Hi all.. I am off to take Paris to go see SURF'S UP, but before I go I wanted to post a few pictures...

Shout out to Steve for sending me this picture of Harrison Ford from Indy 4. Dun da da da- dun da da!

All I can say is... GO SPEED!

Hopefully Indy 4 and Speed Racer won't be too disappointing. I'm keeping my fingers crossed!


Friday, June 22, 2007


Well, actually it's just the same design with different colors. But it feels a different, right? You will also notice that I have added a few things on the sidebar. You can check out my coloring portfolio so you can see proof that I am actually doing the work I am always talking about.

I have also started posting my short film, BLAME, up on YOUTUBE! You can click on the links on the sidebar if you want to see my directorial debut (for those who haven't or those who can't get enough of all things Brian). Hopefully in the near future I will have all 5 parts of the short uploaded... so if you don't like your short films serialized, you can wait until all five links are up there and watch all at once. That is, if you can stomach wasting 24 entire minutes on something that took a lot of people a lot of time to produce.

So that's the 411 on my new and improved blog... I hope to add more clutter soon. Now I gotta get back to coloring. But let me give you the trivia answer first... The connection between Louis Armstrong and myself (and Steve) is that we both went to Intermediate School 227 in Queens... which was named after the late, great Louie Armstrong because at one time he lived near where the school was. See, I told you it was lame trivia.


Tuesday, June 19, 2007


I'm back and ready to take that trip down memory lane. I'm sorry it has taken so long, but perhaps the extra time will enable me to get that added level of perspective that will take the story from pedestrian to pulitzer. Pulitzer?! Uhm, I may be overstating the case a little. Whatever... moving right along...

Okay, so we last left our heroes enroute to Brenda's house and my collision course with the worst Chinese food ever. But before we get there I have to introduce the next round of participants...

After meeting up with the rest of the family we mosied on to the now legendary Chinese restuarant (whose name escapes me). Luckily it was lunch time so we were able to order from the lunch specials menu. Now when I say "lucky" I mean that we were lucky to not have paid full price for the most god awful Chinese food in history (not counting restaurants that use dog,cat and rat meat of course). I ordered the lunch special that was allegedly made up of sweet and sour pork and spicy chicken, along with fried rice and egg drop soup. When the food arrived it... well... I guess a picture is worth a thousand words, so... it looked like this...

If you look closely at my plate, you will notice a reddish sauce over both the chicken and pork, which was peculiar since one was supposed to be sweet and sour and one was supposed to be spicy sauce (of what kind I'm not sure). But being as hungry as I was (having been up since 4:30AM with only a scone and a tiny bag of airplane served banana chips in my belly) I started to chow down on the strange looking fried meats. It was only after I had consumed a good portion of the food that my taste buds registered a complaint. I stopped eating and then all at once it hit me... my food tasted like... CHERRY PIE.

I have absolutely nothing against cherry pie... I like cherry pie. The thing is, I like my cherry pie to be vegeterian. Yeah, meatless cherry pie is the way to go, minus the side of shitty fried rice. So I stopped eating immediately, and although I was completely grossed out, the meal did achieve the objective of taking away my hunger. Unfortunately it also took away my desire to ever eat anything again. But even more unfortunately, that feeling was fleeting because 8 hours later Steve, Mom and I ended up at a sub-mediocre BBQ place for a late night meal of grade C meats slathered with passable BBQ sauce.

Oh and just so you don't think my meal was the only one that sucked ass...

That meal belonged to Steve... and no he didn't order the chicken with apple cobbler on top, that piece of pure culinary perfection was strangely called "almond chicken".

Oh, and lest you think that my food went to waste... it did not. My cousin Jessie and her boyfriend (sorry I don't remember his name) were more than happy to finish my cherry chicken and pork pie. Pictured below...

So there you have it. Although I probably should state again for the record that they served us a platter of cocktail sauce with the food, and saltines with the phlegmy egg drop soup.

I hope you enjoyed that trip down memory lane. I'll be back later to continue with the longest account of a weekend ever. But before I go I will leave you with one of my many picture series from that weekend.

And for the interactive portion of this blog, you can feel free to leave a comment with your title for this picture series.

Monday, June 18, 2007


Do you know who is the oldest person to have a number one hit?

That's right... the great Satchmo, Louis Armstrong recorded "What A Wonderful World" when he was 67. I guess he saved his most well known and often played song for last. And if that wasn't news to you I have the 50 point bonus question... What is the connection between Louis Armstrong and ME?

Stay tuned for the answer (even though its pretty lame)...


Sunday, June 17, 2007


Hi all,

I apologize for not getting back to the business of my Spokane trip, but it has been a hectic week and an even more hectic weekend filled with coloring, rewriting, new outline writing (I just started a new outline for a spec of THE CLOSER), Paris parenting, and snake searching.

Yes, I said snake searching. And by that I mean that while I was feeding Paris' corn snake he got out of his little feeding box and disappeared on me. This caused near massive heart failure and divorce. And by divorce I mean that if I had not found the snake before Xochil came home from her friend's graduation, she would have moved out and probably filed for divorce. As you can imagine she is not a snake person, so the possibility of inhabiting a place with a snake on the loose was... well not really a possibility at all. I am fairly certain that divorce would have been her only recourse.

Luckily I found the snake before she ever knew it was missing. And yes... I did tell her about it after I caught him (he peeked his little albino head out from a crevice under the sink while I was in the kitchen steeling myself for my sad new life as a divorced father). About the only funny thing was that Paris cleverly suggested that I not tell Xochil so that she wouldn't worry. Of course I reminded him that we don't keep secrets from Mommy. Besides, we all know that story ends with her waking up in bed with a corn snake up her nose, followed by... you guessed it... divorce papers.

Anyway, that's the story of my snake search. Oh and by the way, if anyone wants a 1 year old albino corn snake I just happen to have one that needs a new home. And no, Xochil did not ask me to get rid of little Rikki Tikki Tavi (yes I know that's not a proper snake name-- blame Paris). I've decided to get rid of the snake because... in all honesty I am an absent minded fool (blame the bat that smashed my head 17 years ago) and I can't guarantee myself that it won't happen again. So my choice is clear...

Okay since it almost 1AM and I have coloring to do, I'm gonna have to postpone part 2 of the Spokane trip. Sorry folks, but maybe this prolonged wait is building up suspense and anticipation. Too bad that there is no way in heck (can I say heck) that the trip will be able to meet these expectations. Oh well... I'll live.

WAIT!!! Before I go I have to explain the title of this post. You already know why I am lame (like I need to explain), but the reason I am also TOP 50 is that my script LOWLIFES made the SEMIFINALS of the screenwriting contest WRITERS ON THE STORM. For those old school blog readers, you will remember that I mentioned making it to the quarterfinals about a month ago. That was the top 10 percent of the 951 entries... in the semifinals they widdled the 95 quarterfinalists down to 50. Making the top 50 out of almost a thousand is not too shabby if I do say so myself. I'm pretty psyched to be in the top 50, but I will be absolutely ecstatic to make the finals (the top 10). Wish me luck!!!!

That's it for tonight... nighty night!


Thursday, June 14, 2007


Hey there, hi there, ho there...

I finished my coloring deadline, which just means I can concentrate on the bazillion other obligations I have. I finished my Grey's anatomy outline and had it signed off on by my teacher, so that is out of the way. Next I have to do my Witchblade manga translation polish and continue to working on my Fantastic Four pilot rewrite. Oh, and tonight I am taking the family to go see a preview screening of Fantastic Four 2 (shout out to Tim!).

Now back to the Spokane trip...

Steve, Mom and I got up at a little after 4 AM to get ready and be at the airport for our 6:15AM Alaska Airlines flight. We soldiered on through the early morning and successfully made it onto the plane. Nothing of note happened on the plane ride other than the fact that the flight attendent must have been an incredibly lonely lass because she spent half the time chewing our ears off with her intercom abuse. Overall it was an uneventful flight with the added benefit of more leg room than American Airlines planes.

We had a layover in Seattle and were all hungry and ready to eat. The only problem... it was like 9AM and most every place was serving seafood (being Seattle and all). I did find a place that was serving Omlettes, bacon and biscuits & gravy but for some reason I wasn't sold on the quality of their food. The restaurant's name? MIKO SUSHI OF JAPAN, which pretty much explains why we stayed hungry. I guess I'm not made of sterner stuff...

The commute from Seattle to Spokane was on this small prop plane...

I am happy to report that the plane didn't crash even once. So we successfully laned in Spokane and met up with my Aunt Brenda and cousins Dawnette and Eliza. From there we went to our hotel, the not so accurately named SOLAR WORLD ESTATES...

Okay, now you may not be able to tell from the picture, but I must mention that there was little SOLAR stuff going on, and ESTATES may not be the most accurate way to describe hotel grounds that were directly across the street from this...

Call me crazy but I'm not sure if you should legally be allowed to use that word if your property is surrounded on all sides by trailer parks. I dunno, maybe I'm the asshole. Anyway, after checking in to our beautiful two bedroom "suite" we went on to Brenda's house to meet up with the rest of the family.

But that is going to have to wait until next time. So before I insign off, let me introduce all of the players...

Alrighty then... now that I have thoughtfully supplied you with some faces to go with the names, you can all hold your breath until the next installment. Then I will go into (the much anticipated) excruciating detail about our sojourn to THE WORST CHINESE RESTAURANT in the Pacific Northwest.

More later!

Tuesday, June 12, 2007


hey peeps,

Sadly you all will have to wait a little while longer for the Spokane trip blow by blow. My computer freaked out and I am now in the middle of a mad scramble to repair/replace my computer so that I can finish a deadline that is dangerously close to being blown. Thankfully my trusty editors are very understanding.

But before I go I will post a few spokane pics for your enjoyment. The first will be a serious one and the rest... a little less so.

Rest in peace, Paul.

Six words you seldom hear at a Chinese restaurant... "Can I have more COCKTAIL SAUCE?"

A view from the commuter plane.

Who the hell do I think I am?

What time is it?

Anyway, that's all for now... now back to my regularly scheduled computer crisis!


Saturday, June 09, 2007



I just wanted to stop by and let you all know that I am in Spokane for my grandfather's memorial service. I will be back on Monday and fill you in with all the wonderful details. But before I go I will give you a little preview of my Spokanian experience.

I am staying at a hotel called the SOLAR WORLD ESTATES. And let me tell you that the word "estates" is not an accurate representation of the quality of the rooms. I think in the state of Washington estates means "shithole".

I hope that keeps you on the edge of your seat!

See you when I get back. And don't worry... I gots pictures!


Wednesday, June 06, 2007


I don't know...

I must be tired. SO I will give you another couple pictures...

They're old pictures, but if my math is correct they should still be worth 2,000 words... give or take

Good night!

Tuesday, June 05, 2007


These photos were taken a couple weeks ago by Xochil. It was a school function at Paris' school.

There was dancing.


Hey! Another boring day has come and gone without much fanfare. The most exciting thing that happened today was that I watched the LOST season 3 finale. Now I realize that its hard to talk about Lost without giving away major spoilers, so just bear with me as I make another of my grandiose "best ever" statements.

The Lost season 3 two hour finale was the greatest cliffhanger season finale ever!

There, I said it and now I feel better. The Lost writers are friggin geniuses and my hats are off to them. They have successfully turned the show on its head and established an inevitable future that is not exactly the happy ending we had all hoped. In recent episodes I have really started to like Jack the way I did in the first season. The weight of the world is back on his shoulders and he is again reminding me of all of the reluctant heroes that Harrison Ford played when he was pure gold.

Man, I wish I knew some people who were caught up on Lost because I have a serious need to discuss the specifics of the episode. Darn you Steve for waiting for the release of the season 3 box set!!!!!

Okay, that's enough Lost chatter...

I sent off the first 7 pages of my Grey's spec to my classmates. It's just the teaser, but I wanted some feedback so I passed it on. Now those of you that have been keeping up with my blog will know to whom I am refering when I say that SHE is at it again with the opinions. I know she means well, but I gotta say that her opinions grate on me like nothing else! I must be a seriously arrogant prick to get worked up over feedback that I solicited. Yeah, I'm a huge prick Sorry ____________. Sorry that I think your opinions are worth as much as the Scientology mailers I recieve daily. I haven't bought L Ron's $3,000 Mark 7 E meter, and I'm not buying what you are selling either!

Now I'm done. Have a lovely evening...

Monday, June 04, 2007


Hey there,

I meant to blog earlier but...well I didn't so get off my back! It's not like I'm sitting home playing pocket pool all day. Although... that might be nice. I'm going to have to plan an all day pocket-pool-a-thon. Maybe if I ever catch up on my work...

Anyway, in regards to the fix being in...

On Friday I went to the gym and while in the lockerroom I overheard this man talking about how Super Bowl 3 was fixed! At first I thought it was just the ravings of one bored old man talking to another, but the more this guy talked about it the more it seemed possible. Of course I don't know if he was telling the truth, but consider the evidence that he offered:

1. The NFL-AFL merger agreement stipulated that if the AFL didn't win a Superbowl after 3 years then the contract would be null and void. Greenbay won the first two superbowls, so the AFL HAD to win the third.

2. The line for the superbowl went from the Jets being 21 point underdogs to 18 point underdogs the last day.

3. The Colts owner bet $3 million on the Jets (he called the owner Carroll which i looked up and it turns out thats the original Colts owner's first name- Carroll Robinson) . And afterwards during the post superbowl part at carroll's house, he was way too happy for having lost the superbowl.

4.He claimed to be on the team and he referred to himself in the third person (irrefutible evidence that he was a professional athlete)

5. Johnny Unitas didn't play in the game because he wasn't down with the fix. (this one has the least merit since Unitas got hurt in the beginning of the year and backup EARL MORALL started pretty much every game and the playoffs).

Okay, so that was his proof. Now after hearing this I had to know what this guy looked like. I was just praying he wasn't some four foot ten old guy. I turned the corner and was NOT disappointed. He was HUGE and looked familiar to me. Oh, and the name he referred to himself as... BUBBA. I immediately thought Bubba Smith, but then second guessed myself because I didn't think Bubba Smith played on the Colts. But I went home and did my internet validation. Sure enough Bubba Smith was on the Colts, and why did he look familiar? Because he played MOSES HIGHTOWER in the Police Academy film series (can I call them films?!).

So basically I listened to a former Superbowl player and movie policeman contend that Super Bowl 3 was fixed. And for those who don't remember, Superbowl 3 was the one where Joe Namath gauranteed victory. Also, the best part was that the old man he was talking to knew NOTHING about football and was having trouble following the story. When Bubba said that the owner bet 3 million against his team, the old guy asked if he won the bet. Makes me wonder why he chose to tell this story to that old chump. It also makes me think that this is not the first time he has declared this. Okay, so maybe I'm not breaking a new story here... it was still interesting to me!

Moving on.. the rest of my weekend was quiet and dominated by work and homework. I'm practically done with my Grey's Anatomy outline, and have started writing the actual script already. On Friday night I decided to have a Brian's night out, so I went alone to The Grove to do some writing at Barnes and Nobles before watching the 10:55 showing of KNOCKED UP. My thoughts on the movie... ABSOLUTELY friggin hilarious. Without giving any spoilers I will say that the situations and the jokes were dead on... embarassingly so. Judd Apatow (Undeclared and 40 Year Old Virgin) has an incredible knack for showing the messed up side of being a guy. All the dudes are weird, emotionally immature slackers who would rather be watching nude scenes in movies and farting on each other's pillows than making something out of themselves. He also contrasted them with a slightly older married father who was a miserable jerk who longed to be like the slackers (and was tired ofbeing under the thumb of his excitable wife). All of this stuff was REALLY funny. I recommend it to all!

That's all for now... back to work!